Prompt Post #1

[ddk_mod]

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Comments

Matt/any, super senses = premature ejaculation

[(Anonymous)]

How does Matt deal with his heightened senses during sex? Can he control them if he concentrates hard enough or does he just orgasm right away?

I'd really like Matt/Foggy, but Matt/anybody would be great.

Re: Matt/any, super senses = premature ejaculation

[(Anonymous)]

Shhhh, so, I don't know, I am all about intense!Matt.


leverage


His mouth tastes like blood and his blood tastes like the street—foul grit under someone's boots—watery oil cast across pavement. He wants something to drink, something that burns clean. There's beer in his icebox, but that won't do the trick. His left eye is swelling shut. Maybe last month, he would've stumbled home, choked down half a tube of toothpaste, and listened to the neighbors' headboard cracking into plaster two floors down as a lullaby. It's not last month. It's an early spring in Hell's Kitchen and the rain is soaking into his bones, gluing him together. It's cold and he wants whiskey and Foggy's place is seven city blocks away.

If Matt were smart, he'd go home. But everyone's made a career out of telling Matt to become different kinds of smart, and tonight he decides fuck them. Fuck them all. His face hurts. His head hurts. He wants a drink.

He can do that kind of thing, now. Go see his—go see Foggy. Absorb all of Foggy's outrage and worry, let it feel good on his skin, like the buzz of electricity inside a telephone pole—like someone humming into Matt's palm. Yes, like that. It makes his toes curl sometimes. It makes his chest feel tight.

He doesn't think anything's wrong. Not until he's jacking up the window to Foggy's apartment, breathing in the scent of four-day-old Chinese leftovers and an overworked iron, taking a big inhale, holding it inside of him. Then he realizes his hands are shaking, his stomach's awash in bile. He's going to throw up. Concussion? No, but there's a wanting in him, an awful edge that's blurring all of his boundaries and sending him desperately to safety. Matt slams the sash behind him and listens to himself drip on the linoleum. Every droplet threatens to drag him beneath the undertow.

Sometimes he's just so sick of seeing nothing but fire—of feeling nothing but pain.

Matt drags the mask off of his face and drops it in a sodden heap. He listens for the slight vibration of glass in the cupboards—a fat bottle clinking against another full of syrup, there, the whiskey, half-empty but promising—and he's prying it free when Foggy stumbles into the kitchen. Foggy must be wearing pajama pants, because the hems drag on the floor.

"Hey," Foggy says, baffled. "Okay. Hey."

Matt sucks down a mouthful of alcohol and it's good, sharp like a cut, puncturing the taste of alley way swill so neatly he could cry. "Hey," he agrees, but it comes out all wrong, in pieces.

He wipes his cheek.

Foggy is probably about to say something—but his heartbeat stutters—a sign Matt recognizes well—and like a flare gun, it wakes up something in Matt that knows that stutter, that knows how to respond to it. He takes another swig from the bottle and heaves himself over. He's never touched Foggy much, because he'd always thought Foggy didn't feel comfortable with that. So it's a shock to the system to have warm, living skin beneath his hand. Foggy is solid, big. He smells like his home.

"Matt?"

He smells so fucking good. Like a real person. Like a good person. Matt shudders and slides his hands down a stomach that's kind of soft—there's hair winding down, coarser—the waistband of his pajama pants, the slightly inflamed ridge where the cord dug in too tight. Foggy is saying something, but the world is narrowed and small and quiet. It's such a relief.

Matt leans forward until his forehead bumps into a nose. Foggy's still talking to him. If he tilts his head up—yes. Yes.

He doesn't kiss him. He just presses his mouth against Foggy's mouth and breathes him in, like it hurts. It does hurt.

It's enough to just taste him: banana Laffy Taffy, a crown that's starting to decay. But Matt must make a noise, he must crumple a little, because Foggy frames his face with his hands and tells him it's okay. "Hey," he says, "hey hey hey. You're okay. We're okay."

"I want," strangles Matt, and can't finish.

"We're okay," Foggy says, clumsy and earnest. "God, is this why you can't keep a woman?" He strokes Matt's cheeks with his thumbs, pulls him in close. "You gotta calm down. This can't be good for your heart, man."

It hurts, but Foggy kisses him, drinks him all in, and that's—good. That's better. Usually Matt likes to take it easy, likes to drag his lips across a woman's, likes to lift the imprint of her gloss and learn her teeth. This isn't slow-going, but it is slow, Foggy licking him open and sinking in, hungry, sweet. He kisses all the air out of Matt. It's not right, Matt thinks in distraction, that Foggy never gets the girl, that everyone passes right over him, because he's got technique, and he means it, nothing's for show.

It goes straight to Matt's cock.

He's always gotten hard quickly, but never like this. Matt burns where Foggy's fingers press in, as if he's been branded and made pliable. Arousal creeps hot and low in his belly, and he wants to be touched more. He wants hands on his hips and under his thighs and pressing down on his sternum and light against his ankles oh Jesus oh god. He wants weight keeping him down, pocketing him against the sheets. He wants out of these clothes.

Foggy must know. He must, because he sucks in a word hard and holds it. Then he wheels Matt into the kitchen wall. The impact rings in Matt's skeleton like church bells. Someone next door is watching the television on mute, because the power is on but the unit's making no noise. That's how Matt feels, too.

"Matt," rasps Foggy, his name a scratch of sandpaper against his jaw. He kisses Matt again and squeezes his sides—presses in like he can compact him—fingernails scraping the bare skin above Matt's hip.

The scratch is like an electric current up Matt's spine. He pants and digs his heels in. Rubs against Foggy like a teenager, his zipper digging in uncomfortably. But even that feels good, that little pinch. His heartbeat is in staccato.

"Easy," Foggy is saying, "easy." He presses damp, soft kisses against Matt's stubble, hiding them in his throat. He keeps stroking Matt's groin through his jeans, thumb digging into the seam. "C'mon, buddy, you gotta relax."

"No," says Matt. He scrambles for the cord at Foggy's waist, pausing only when he feels the swelling beneath cotton—hot, and he hadn't expected it somehow—that Foggy would be hard, too, that they'd both be prickly and wanting.

Foggy laughs. "The look on your face."

"You smell like sex," says Matt, feeling stupid as soon as he says it.

"I don't think that's my fault," Foggy says. He pops the button to Matt's jeans; the experience of someone else tugging the denim there fucks with Matt's head in all the best ways. He shudders and impresses back into the wall as Foggy unzips him. "Although if you don't like it, that's cool. We can stop?"

"Foggy," he says, and the syllables resound in everything. They drown out the alley cats—they dampen the soft wet breathing of children to nothing.

"Gotta open your legs some," murmurs Foggy. "C'mon, let me, Matt."

His hand presses in between Matt's thighs, groping, searching. The pressure—small as it may be—wrecks Matt.

"Fuck," he gasps, grinding down against Foggy's palm. "Oh god—oh no, no."

"No?" Foggy asks, worried, but it doesn't matter. The world is already careening and Matt comes clutching a fistful of pajama pants and Foggy's wrist, holding him in place. He's not even touching Matt's cock, not really. Matt hasn't even—he's still wearing his jeans, and it's humiliating, and it's amazing, and—

"Oh. Oh wow," says Foggy. "Really?"

His heartbeat, fluttering beneath Matt's fingertips, says something else.

For a long minute, Matt can't do anything except try to catch his breath. He's sticky and his face hurts again, but not like before. He doesn't realize he's still clutching Foggy's hand until Foggy shifts and grazes his thigh. When he does realize, he swallows.

"I should—" he starts to say, and stops. Then, "I'd like to. I'd like."

"Oh," Foggy says, in a different tone. "Really?"

(When Matt gets on his knees, he can feel the tiles quiver in time with the southbound train. He mouth tastes like blood and his blood tastes like something newly born, iron-rich, like their shared saliva. He presses a kiss into Foggy's hip in personal blessing—a benediction—the free and full forgiveness of school boys over spilt wine.)

Matt/Foggy - Ticklish

[(Anonymous)]

Heightened senses can also mean heightened sensitivity. Unfortunately.

AKA Matt is super ticklish and Foggy is a dick and takes advantage.

Bonus points: Said "taking advantage" takes place in front of Karen, much to Matt's embarrassment.

Re: Matt/Foggy - Ticklish

[(Anonymous)]

Oh damn, this sound adorable! Second!

Matt/Anyone: Heartbeat

[(Anonymous)]

When he's not using heartbeats to determine who is telling the truth, the sound of them really calms Matt down. Can be just a sweet moment with Matt resting his head on their chest or during sex, but I want to see something with Matt focusing on the other person's heartbeat and being comforted by it or overwhelmed with affection.

FILL: Matt/Foggy/Karen schmoop, 1/1

[(Anonymous)]

It's been a week since Fisk was put away, since nearly half the police force has been uprooted and replaced with real good guys this time, since Hell's Kitchen learned the truth about their supposed savior and devil alike - a week since their world nearly fell apart and got stitched back together, and Matt's not sure if his city will ever heal. Or if they will ever heal. He has his hopes and they get a little brighter every day, each time he wakes up in the morning and remembers that this time they actually won. But then he remembers Ben, and Sra. Cardenas, and the sound of Foggy crying as he yelled at him, and the way Karen quietly broke at some point when he hadn't been watching, and the hope inside him fades back to a faint ember. Warm, but barely there, something to protect and hide from the world.

He's more affectionate now - they all are. Foggy was always touchy-feely, but now he insists on a round of bear hugs when any of them leave the office. He doesn't have to say "just in case," but it's obvious just the same. Karen always has a hand on one of their arms now, opening up her personal space to naturally include the other two at all times. More than once she's rested her head on Matt's shoulder when they're reviewing cases and he's done the same in return. And Matt - well, if the kisses he's exchanging with both of them seem tinged with relief and worry, neither Karen nor Foggy have had it in them to point it out.

He tracks them now wherever they are, so long as they're within distance of his senses: the sound of Karen's heels from blocks away, the smell of Foggy's aftershave from the day before. The exact pitch of their voice, the rate of their pulse, everything he can pick up to tell him if they're okay or not. Most of the time they are, or as okay as they'll ever be. But not all the time. Sometimes, there's a quiet hitch to their breath or a fidget as their mind wanders to something that makes their heart rate spike even though there's no immediate danger. Matt wants to take them both by the shoulders and promise that they'll be okay, that he won't let anything happen to them ever again, that he loves them more than he's ever loved himself, but he's not even sure he believes all that, some days.

They fall into bed as naturally as breathing, though Matt isn't there as many nights as he is, and Foggy's still seeing his ex, and Karen's still halfway convinced she'll get the people she invites into her apartment killed. Sometimes there are only two of them and more often than not all they do is sleep in a pile together, clothes tossed to the side and Foggy snoring like his namesake. Sex with all three of them together is... a work in progress, sometimes awkward (because none of them have any experience with threesomes and all of them are bursting with painfully strong love for the others), sometimes not so much. It's here in the darkness of one of their homes, tangled in the limbs of his two dearest friends that Matt finally lets himself go and let himself be overwhelmed by the sheer presence of Foggy and Karen at his side.

Their skin, warm and heavy with the mix of musk, and cooling sweat, and soap, and perfume.

The gentle rise and fall of their chests, a steady reminder that they're still safe, still alive.

Their hearts, beating at their own slow rhythm as they sleep, a welcome percussion in his ears.

Slowly he shuts down his awareness of anything beyond the room. (As best he can, anyway. He'll never not listen for sirens, for voices and footsteps that shouldn't belong, for the metallic scent of guns or knives or whatever else might be used to hurt the people he cares about.) The sounds of nighttime traffic across the city fade in his ears as he focuses on their hearts - Foggy to the left of him, Karen to his right. Combined, the two heartbeats form a pattern all their own that chants to him we are still here, we are still safe.

He loves them, he realizes, and not for the first time. It's such a strong, immutable fact that it still takes him by surprise. Somehow it seeped under his skill and filled his entire body when he wasn't paying attention. He'd loved Foggy for a long time and had long since come to care for Karen, but the two of them, here, together, or hunched over a table, or slinging back shots at Josie's, or just being at Matt's side no matter how much of a fool he might be -

Still here. Still here. Still here.

Matt lets everything else fade away. His own heartbeat slows in response and finally he lets himself fall asleep.

Wesley/anyone, Fine Print

[(Anonymous)]

Someone fails to read the fine print. Wesley does what he must.

Matt/Steve Rogers, body worship

[(Anonymous)]

There's a new guy at the gym, and somehow he piques Matt's interest.

Re: Matt/Steve Rogers, body worship

[(Anonymous)]

seconded!

Wesley/Fisk, Leash

[(Anonymous)]

Fisk keeps Wesley on a tight leash.

Re: Wesley/Fisk, Leash

[(Anonymous)]

+1

Karen Page/Claire, sweet.

[(Anonymous)]

Anything between Karen and Claire, maybe some h/c with an emphasis on comfort.

Vanessa/Fisk, romance

[(Anonymous)]

I'd love to see any kind of story about Vanessa and Wilson Fisk's relationship, during or after the show!

Re: Vanessa/Fisk, romance

[(Anonymous)]

Aw me too! I hope someone fills this!

Matt/Clint sex after battle

[(Anonymous)]

There's a few dumpster bro fics but no romantic/smutty ones.

So Hawkeye and Daredevil meet while beating up bad guys and after a while it becomes a thing for them to team up sometimes for missions/fights.

So after one particularly hard fight where they almost died, Matt and Clint decide they need to do something about their growing sexual tension and they have sex. Desperate, tired, "I'm so glad we're alive" celebratory sex.

bottom!Matt is preferable.

Re: Matt/Clint sex after battle

[(Anonymous)]

Oh shit now I want this so bad I might have to try my hand at it! Heh.

Foggy-centric - Sports!

[(Anonymous)]

Inspired by both the baseball bat and the fact that the actor who plays Foggy was one of the Bash Brothers in Mighty Ducks: Five Pieces of Sports Equipment Foggy Nelson Used to Ward Off Bad Guys (And One Time He Got Hit in the Head. By Love.)

Matt/Foggy, body swap

[(Anonymous)]

Matt and Foggy switch bodies. Hilarity and/or drama ensues.

Fill "Sandcastles" 1/X

[(Anonymous)]

The thing is that considering the circumstances there will definitely ensue a lot of drama but I also think that a bodyswitch-fic without some hilarity is useless so I'm aiming for 'and'. Though part one is mainly drama really.

And it's unfortunately gen because I'm always that person on a kink-meme.

---

It starts of as a boring and straightforward hit-and-run case.
It becomes an annoying case when the witness they are trying to find turns out to be strangely elusive. They rush from one place to the next and everytime they hear that the people there know whom they're talking about. Everywhere they hear that he's been here recently just not right now but they know another place where he might be.
It turns into a really strange case when they finally find him and call for him. He shoots them a panicked glare and yells something that doesn't sound like any language either of them has ever heard and runs away. Foggy wants to go after him but it feels like he's walking through cotton and he wonders what just happened. When the feeling has passed the witness is gone.

"What the fuck was that?" Foggy asks.

"I'm not sure..." Matt is hesitant.

"But you have an idea?"

"Well. I was fighting a mugger once who suddenly also started yelling something I couldn't understand. It felt a lot like this just afterwards and the next three days I felt like haunted by the migraine from hell and the worst hangover ever combined."

Foggy takes a moment to interpret what Matt just implied. "You hunted a wizard-mugger once and he put a migraine-spell on you?"

"I don't know. The two things could have been unrelated. I also can't tell you if that guy just said the same or just if that was in the same language. All I'm saying is that it felt a lot like that thing back then."

"Whatever", Foggy shrugs. The list of things that still surprise him has become a lot smaller since he learned that his best friend is secretly a ninja. Magic isn't that much weirder.

It's late because they spend the best part of the evening hunting down their witness who turned out to be a wizard (possibly). Foggy's apartment is closer so he invites Matt to crash on his couch and Matt agrees because he is really tired after this day.

---

The odd thing is that the first thing he notices is that he just fell down from his couch and he is certain that he went to his own bed tonight. Matt had taken the couch. Only then does he notice the pain that woke him up. It's everywhere. No it's just in his head but it's so unbearably horrible that it feels like it's everywhere because something so intense can't just be in one place.

There are screams and some small part of him that's still capable of rational thought realizes that the screams are the cause of his headache. The screams and the smells. It smells like everything. Like fresh food, burned food and foul food, like animals, like unwashed people and people doused in perfume, like trash and like blood and so much more. Everything together smells disgusting and he wants to throw up except that he's already screaming in agony and it's impossible to do both at once.

The fact that he also can't see is something he only notices as an afterthought. It's frightening but nowhere near as frightening as the other stuff that's happening to him.
And then there is something else. Something that feels good inbetween all that horror. Somebody is hugging him and it feels so intense but also a lot less terrifying than anything else going on. After a while he has calmed down enough to make out that Matt (it has to be him. Who else could it be?) is saying something. It is hard to make out at first but he clings to the words like a drowning man to a life belt and finally they come through.

"Breathe. Just breathe. In and out."

He keeps repeating "In and out" while slowly stroking his back and eventually Foggy's breathing settles into the rhythm.

"You have to...focus on the things close to you. Try to...try drawing smaller and smaller circles until you only focus on the thing in this room.
At first Foggy has no idea how that is going to work because everything is just loud and how is he supposed to differentiate between what's far away and what not but then he realizes that now that he's calmer he can. There's a couple arguing on the street, a dog is howling. He pushes that and all the other things happening on the street away. Just like the guy in the apartment above him who is taking a late (early?) shower and the woman below him who is watching TV. It all becomes backround-noise and it's still painfully loud but it's a pain he's already used to. He focuses on Matt, and his breath. That's easier and less weird than the heartbeat. Then his voice that is still telling him what to do, and now there is no doubt that this is Matt but not Matt's voice.
It's obvious what must have happened.
He pauses at the thought and remembers how two months ago his life consisted of hoping that the law-firm he had with his best friend would one day make enough money for him to afford a nice holiday and some fancy presents for his family. Now he's woken up in the middle of the night in excruciating pain and after having calmed down his first thought is that it's obvious that a wizard must have though he and his superhero-vigilante-ninja best friend need their own version of Freaky Fucking Friday and he doesn't consider that strange at all. Foggy almost wants to laugh if it wasn't so terrifying.

Matt is still telling him to breathe and to focus and his voice sounds dry and strained as if he's been doing that for a long time by now. Foggy raises his hand because he doesn't yet trust his voice.

"Foggy?” He sounds so desperate and sad.

"Yeah."

Then there's silence - or what passes for silence when you can hear everything. What is there to say?

When he is fairly certain that he can speak without sounding hysterical he says "Could you - uhm - some water? I'm parched and you sound like you could need some as well."

Matt has jumped up and is halfway through the room before he's finished the sentence. For a moment he has to fight another wave of panic after Matt's hand disappears from his back but he quickly recovers and remembers that he can feel Matt anyway. That's the only thing that's keeping him sane for the moment. It’s a fragile sanity, like a carefully constructed and elaborate sand-castle made out of bone-dry sand. Just going near to look at it will bring it crashing down and Foggy rather doesn't want to be in the same room with himself when that happens. But as long as Matt is here he’ll manage – at least that’s what he hopes for the sake of them both.

This is just my day job

[(Anonymous)]

Matt gets attacked/captured not as Daredevil, but as his everyday lawyer self. Maybe for revenge, or kidnapping him for leverage? (Most bad guys probably wouldn't expect much fight out of a blind guy.)

Up to author whether he easily dispatches the bad guys with his Daredevil skills or if it turns into a situation where he needs outside help!

FILL: Part 1/? Untitled (as of now) [GEN (I know this is a kink meme but sorry)]

[(Anonymous)]

Foggy gets the call from Brett just as he finally gets to the doorstep of his apartment. He fumbles awkwardly for his phone with one hand as he mentally curses his past self for having the bright idea of putting five keys on the same ring. They all look the same, barely Illuminated as they are by the weakly flickering light over his door, no matter how hard he squints.

“Sup, buddy? What’s going on?” He says, pressing the phone between his cheek and shoulder as he tries to force a key into the slot.

It jams about half way in, and Foggy mutters a half-hearted curse under his breathe. Sure, it would be easier to do this without holding onto an insanely heavy briefcase, but Nelson & Murdock had finally gotten a case (one that didn’t have to do with murderous crime lords or devil-suited vigilantes, thank God) and he had a lot of important papers in there that he didn’t want to get stolen or stained with unmentionable liquids, because ew.

He’s about to try the second one when Brett answers, his voice uncharacteristically serious – real serious, not when they do the whole ‘enemies’ routine. “Foggy, get your ass over here. One of your friends just came in reporting a kidnapping. I don’t know the details, but -”

Foggy drops his briefcase. “What?” He says – okay, shouts – into the speaker, because holy crap, Matt had told him and Karen to keep an eye out, but it had been weeks since Fisk had been put behind bars and nothing had happened, and – they had put their guards down again, haven’t they? Just like what happened with Mrs. Cardenas, and with Ben, and with Karen in her apartment –

Oh shit, Karen. They had already gone after her multiple fucking times, how could he be so stupid - “Matt’s – Matt’s down there now, right?”

But… that didn't make sense, not really. Matt was – Matt was Daredevil, he was the guy who brought down Fisk in the first place. Foggy had left a bit earlier than Matt and Karen had, they must have been walking out together (which seriously wasn't a concern for Foggy, because come on. His friendship with both Matt and Karen were stronger than that.)

Matt was some blind ninja badass, there was no way he couldn’t have taken down a couple of kidnappers, especially when they were after Karen. Unless…

“Matt?” Brett repeats, confused. “No, it’s that woman who got involved with the Union Allied fiasco back then. Karen, right?” A brief pause. “Y’know, your girlfriend?”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Foggy says quickly. “I don’t know. It’s complicated. But – wait, so Karen’s the one down at the precinct right now? Matt’s not with her?”

“Yup. It’s just her. Look, Foggy, just get down here fast. I don’t know the specifics, and I’m just guessing here, but… I think its Matt who got taken. She was crying too hard for it to be someone she didn't know –“

Yeah, that was where his thought train was going as well. “Shit,” he says, then, “Damn it. Brett – Buddy, thank you so fucking much. As soon as I get the chance, I’m going to get Bess the best damn cigars I can get my hands on.”

“Hell, Foggy, who do you think I am?” Brett scoffs disbelievingly. “Matt’s my friend too, and I’m not even gonna mention the obvious. All I need from you is to get the hell down here right now.”

“Yeah. Shit. I’ll be there.” Foggy hangs up, yanks his keys from his door, and breaks into a run. He’s halfway down the street when he realizes that he has his briefcase with him, its weight nothing compared to the sheer panic he’s feeling.

He sees the flash of yellow and thank God for New York taxis for operating even when any sane person should be asleep. Foggy’s seated inside within a minute, and he finally gets the chance to take a breathe and think, because –

Matt got kidnapped? Seriously, Matt? Maybe a month ago, Foggy would be shitting his pants at the realization that his blind best friend just got nabbed off the streets by people who do not have his health as a top concern (obvious understatement.) Now, with the knowledge that his best friend was also some kind of ninja, as well as a vigilante who dressed in bullet-proof devil armor to patrol the streets four nights a week… he was slightly less worried (slightly, because he still remembers all the fucking blood and how many stitches had he needed?)

Foggy still had no idea how exactly Matt’s super-senses worked, but judging from the number of scars on his body, they didn’t help him much in the whole, ‘not getting the shit beat out of him’ department. Why hadn’t Matt beat the shit out of those guys? Maybe he didn’t want to expose his identity to Karen – but Matt had always been the sensible one.

Had they taken him by surprise? Knocked him unconscious before he could punch them out? Or – Foggy swallows then, his fingers clenching at his seat – maybe he had been too hurt to do anything. Jesus Christ.

“Hey,” he says loudly, getting the taxi driver’s attention. “Twenty bucks if you can get to the precinct within five minutes.”

[AN: First kink meme fill I've ever attempted, as well as first time writing for Daredevil. Please tell me if I'm getting any character/plot detail wrong. Also, is there a way to do italics without doing all the html?]

Matt/Peter

[(Anonymous)]

After the events of season 1, Matt meets Peter at Midtown where Matt does a kind of blind awareness/law education presentation (idk really random). Matt likes Peter's charisma even though the teen proves to be a science prodigy. Peter asks Matt to meet outside of the presentation/school setting to discuss careers/university and smut ensues :D

Matt/Peter intense

[(Anonymous)]

Matt's augmented senses allow him to feel everything much more strongly than a normal person, so who's not to say he has intense sex no matter how gentle or sweet Peter is? What even seems like normal sex could leave him a whimpering, fucked out mess. That combined with hearing Peter's heartbeat during sex makes his sexual experiences intense as fuck.

Re: Matt/Peter intense

[(Anonymous)]

I honestly need more fucked out mess!Matt in my life

Foggy/Matt, Matt is desperately in love and everything hurts

[(Anonymous)]

Stick accused Matt of surrounding himself with "soft" things in episode seven. The worst part is, Matt knows he's right. Because the soft things make it better. The soft things take care of him and they don't ask for more than he's able to give.

Foggy's a lot harder to get rid of than silk sheets, though.

Yeah, there are beautiful women. But Matt Murdock has only ever fallen in love with one person - and he keeps him close, even though it hurts like a bitch to know that heartbeat only changes for Karen.

(OF COURSE IF YOU WANT TO BE REALLY NICE, MAYBE MATT GETS PROVEN WRONG, AND MAYBE THERE'S SOME QUALITY TLC FOR OUR BOY. NO JUDGMENT. ACTUALLY SHOULD PROBABLY JUST REQUEST SOMEONE FEEDING MATT MURDOCK PANCAKES IN BED.)

[FILL] Foggy/Matt, Matt is desperately in love and everything hurts

[(Anonymous)]

Soft Things

Matt stands amidst the wreckage of his apartment, Stick’s words ringing in his ears.

He does surround himself with soft things. It doesn’t make him soft. They’re just things, easily replaced or left behind. They make the world bearable; remind him why he does what he does, that there’s more than fists against flesh and powerful people trying to fuck over the less fortunate in the world. Just because he has them doesn’t mean he needs them.

And since Stick’s pathologically unable to form attachments to anything, he doesn’t see that it’s not the things that make Matt soft. It’s just one thing. One person, against whom Matt has no defenses.

Foggy.

Who forces him to be better, reminds him he’s not just a warrior but a person who deserves good things. The one thing he can never leave behind. Even if he’s counting down the days until Foggy does. It may come sooner than expected, if the way Foggy’s heart races when he’s talking to Karen means anything.

Matt lies against his silk sheets and lets the silence of his apartment slip away as he immerses himself in the cacophony of Hell’s Kitchen.

***

Foggy finds Matt bleeding on the floor and knows.

Matt wakes up on his couch, hurting, and Foggy’s voice as cold as he’s ever heard. Anger and pain eclipse everything about Foggy Matt’s come to know; his heart beats boldly in his anger. He’s had at least three beers, waiting for Matt to wake up. He steels himself for Foggy’s anger.

“I thought we were friends.”

Matt doesn’t say, We’ve never been friends. Calling us friends is an insult to what you mean to me.

They stumble over Claire, the explosions, the dead cops. That hurts, the accusations, but Matt has always been good at taking a punch. He lets Foggy ask his questions, and answers honestly, baldly. Gives up everything to Foggy, lets him see the box, because it’s always been his for the asking. He’s just never known what questions to ask.

He listens to Foggy’s conversation with Karen, and for once Foggy’s heartbeat doesn’t tick up talking to her. It keeps on its steady, angry pace. Matt feels a twisted, temporary kind of relief, that’s very short lived, because the questions start up again and Foggy has never been a fool.

Talking about his father still hurts. Talking about Stick hurts, for similar reasons he doesn’t dwell upon. And with every word, every confession, Foggy’s heart ratchets up, the sweat gathers on his skin. Matt’s never seen Foggy truly scared about something and never wants to again—especially when he’s the source—but he owes it to Foggy not to deflect.

“You can hear a heartbeat? From across the room?“ Again, words fail him. He can hear a heartbeat from across the room; he can hear Foggy’s from a block away if he needs to. He knows Foggy’s heart better than anything else in this world. It grounds him, keeps the world at bay, reminds Matt that he’s human and that’s okay. Reminds him what it is he’s fighting for.

“Wait. Are you telling me that since I’ve known you, anytime I wasn’t telling the truth, you knew? And what? You just…played along?”

“Basically.”

“If you weren’t half dead I would kick your ass, Murdock! Am I lying about that?”

“No.” He’s not, is the thing. He would try and Matt…would let him. There’s no defense against Foggy Nelson.

“…was anything ever real with us?” Matt would rather get stabbed in the side again that hear the betrayal in Foggy’s voice. Than know he’s caused such doubt.

Because Foggy’s the only real thing in his life.

***

There’s a lull in the accusations. Matt’s managed to sit up on the couch, which was probably not his best idea. Foggy’s sitting with his back to the sofa, an untouched beer warming on the table. Everything about him screams defeat, and Matt hates himself for being the person that did this.

“So you’ve known? All this time?” There’s hurt buried in Foggy’s voice, a hint of tears on the air and Matt wants to fix it so badly. Maybe he can.

“Yeah,” Matt says on a sigh.

“Christ. Sorry! I meant fuck.” Foggy slumps down and covers his face.

“It’s…it’s really not that bad, Foggy. You should go for it.”

“Excuse me?”

“I know you think it’s weird. But you should really go for it with Karen. She’s into you. Her heart speeds up too.” It may be the hardest thing he’s ever said, but Foggy deserves all the soft things in life.

“Karen,” Foggy repeats, oddly flat.

“Yes? You have no idea how distracting it gets whenever you two are in the same room. You both…” he makes a vague hand gesture meant to evoke the kind of nauseatingly adorable love teenagers are capable of. “It’s like two drums beating out of sync.”

“Wow. Wow. Okay.” Matt smiles grimly and lets his head fall back against the couch. He’s always been good at doing the things that hurt the most. “Yeah, not what I’m talking about.”

“What?” Matt snaps up and pays for it as blinding pain surges through him. Terrible idea. Foggy’s silence feels damning. Judgmental. Matt’s body tenses, ready to fight, to take on whatever is hurting his…Foggy. “What are you talking about, Foggy?”

“Are you really going to make me say it?” Foggy’s anger burns over Matt’s senses. He rolls onto his knees and faces Matt, so close. “Fine. This is not going to be one of those things we ignore and pretend doesn’t exist. We’re going to deal with it like adults. I love you. I’ve been crazy about you since, like, five minutes after I saw your stupidly handsome duck face. Thanks for not being an asshole about it, I guess, but all in all I think I’d have preferred to live in ignorance on that one. But I cant, we can’t, so. Yeah.”

Matt…has no idea what to say. Foggy’s looking at him defiantly, and while his heartbeat is a little elevated from general agitation, it’s fairly steady.

“I…didn’t know.” He sounds incredibly pathetic. Lost.

“You just told me what I had for lunch yesterday. You can hear my heartbeat, and my breathing, and a phone call if you want…and you’re going to sit there and tell me you had no idea about something that was a running joke in my Punjabi class.”

“You. You don’t…”

“Don’t tell me how I feel, Matthew.”

“No. That’s not what I meant. It’s just. You don’t.” Matt takes a moment to collect his thoughts. “Your heart doesn’t race when you talk to me. Or when you touch me. You don’t smell like…teenage hormones when we’re close. You don’t sweat or stutter or ramble. I’ve seen you with people you like, Foggy. With Karen.”

“Jesus, Matt,” Foggy says, like he feels sorry for the poor blind kid and Matt grabs onto the spike of anger that flares up because it’s better than feeling so exposed.

“I told you I never asked for your—“ Foggy’s hand gently cradles Matt’s face, his thumb resting against Matt’s lips and silencing him.

“Matt. That stuff. The, the racing hearts and sweaty palms and the stupid rambling, all the blushing. That’s not love. That’s nerves. That’s ‘how much of a fool can I make of myself and still live tomorrow’ and ‘will she like me when she finds out more about me’ and ‘could this be forever.’ That’s sex and lust and, and being uncertain about new things. We’re so far beyond all that, Matty. We got through it all in college. You already know that I’m an unforgivable dork. You know exactly how dumb I can be, you were beside me for just about every stupid thing I ever did. You know every important, embarrassing, ridiculous thing about me, and you’re still around. I just found out you’ve been hiding this massive, INSANE thing from me and you better believe I’m going to be pissed for a while but I’m not going anywhere. Because I don’t have to wonder if you’re forever. You’re stuck with me, buddy. No matter what.”

It’s all true. Foggy’s sitting here, being braver than Matt ever has, and his heartbeat is steady as a rock. It’s the same heartbeat that got Matt through college parties, through frustrating days when he couldn’t find the braille versions of the books he needed, when it hurts to breathe because he cracked three ribs but he soldiers through because Foggy’s counting on him.

Didn’t even falter when he was confessing his love for Matt. Which means Matt’s such an undeniable, unshakable part of Foggy’s world that there’s nothing they won’t get through. Nothing that won’t see Foggy standing by his side, come hell or high water.

And nothing Foggy will ask him to change.

“You love me.” It doesn’t come out with enough wonder in it, because Matt had had that stripped out of him well before Sticks, but…

“I’ve TOLD you that,” Foggy says. He’d told his mother he loved Matt once. But he doesn’t just mean in the romantic sense. Foggy has called him his brother and his best friend in the same conversation before, and Matt realizes that maybe Foggy agrees than friend is a weak, watered down facsimile of what they are. Matt just…wasn’t giving him enough credit.

“You love me.” Foggy flushes, a wave of extra heat turning the reds brighter in Matt’s vision, and Matt grins.

“Dude. Come on. Give me a break.”

“No,” Matt says, face hurting from smiling. “I don’t think I will.” He snakes one leg around Foggy’s thighs and fists a hand in Foggy’s shirt. It’s laughably easy to make Foggy to sprawl over him, hands braced on either side of Matt, body heat quickly warming the space between them.

Matt’s always been better with actions than words. He leans in, inhales the unique scent of Foggy and slides their cheeks together, loving the way his scruff feels against Foggy’s smooth-shaven skin. He lets his senses guide him, until his lips ghost against Foggy’s, their breath mingling. He’s a hair’s breadth away; one tiny shift would have them kissing.

“Your heartbeat,” Matt says, smiling broadly, “is racing.”

“Is this going to be a Thing?” Foggy asks as Matt lets his hands trail up Foggy’s chest. “It’s going to be a Thing, isn’t it?”

“You said we were past this part.”

“No, no, that is not what I said!” Foggy is, for lack of a better word, adorable when he’s earnest. “We’re past the, the nervous this-is-only-lust-and-or-sex aspect. This is love Matty, I’m entitled to a steady AND a fast heartbeat!”

Matt laughs, loud and joyous, and presses it against Foggy’s lips. Shares it with the best thing he’ll ever have.

They’re just getting to the good part, where Matt loses himself in Foggy, when one of his stitches pulls and Matt’s choking back a gasp of pain. He’s pretty successful, but Foggy knows him and immediately starts fussing, threatening to call Claire back. Matt’s disappointed, especially when Foggy helps him shuffle into bed. He wants to touch, and taste, and share everything with Foggy, but the man refuses to cooperate. Just spoons up behind Matt, scrubbing a hand through his hair, soft and soothing. He smiles against Matt’s shoulder and says, “The fast and the steady, Matty. We have time.”

---

A/N: Sorry, no pancakes. Maybe next time, if Thing 1 and Thing 2 cooperate. ;)

Also, this really has a secondary pairing of Matt Murdock/Martyrdom.

Matt/Foggy, Matt in a priest outfit

[(Anonymous)]

For whatever reason (undercover work?), Matt is dressed like a priest and ends up having sex with Foggy. Matt feels super guilty, but not enough to stop himself.

Re: Matt/Foggy, Matt in a priest outfit

[(Anonymous)]

seconded so hard oh my god

Foggy/Matt, comfort sex

[(Anonymous)]

After a rough night Matt needs some calming down, Foggy jokingly suggests sex, which Matt enthusiastically takes him up on.

Re: Foggy/Matt, comfort sex

[(Anonymous)]

Matt feels like he's coming out of his skin, like he swallowed a star, a supernova, a volcano. The world's on fire, so is he, and he can't beat up enough people, can't take enough hits to put himself out.

His hands clench around a bottle of....something. It was the only alcohol in the office, and it's disgusting, but it burns going down, burns him from the inside out.

He sank to the floor, with the wall at his back grounding him. He takes a swig and slams his head back. It hurts, but so does everything else.

It's his lucky day though, because that's the moment Foggy walks in, to see him drinking on the floor and banging his head. There's blood on his face and hands, and Foggy sighs.

This was a familiar scene.

"Cmon, Matty, get off the floor at least, it's filthy." Foggy drags him up and steadys him.

"Leave me on the ground, it's where I belong," Matt whines, and Foggy laughs.

"Could you be any more dramatic? What happened now?" Foggy's using his body to keep him from sliding down again but Matt just shakes, and buries his head in Foggy's neck.

This was the worst that Foggy had seen him. Usually all it took to get Matt back on the level was some human contact. Foggy didn't understand it, and Matt hadn't really explained it, except for a few broken sentences of how his heightened senses sometimes made him feel like he didn't quite fit in his body.

World on fire, right.

Matt was still shaking in Foggys embrace, and desperate times called for desperate measures.

The kiss was awkward and kind of weird, what with the shaking and the crying, but Matt kissed him back like a dying man. Foggy took that as an okay.

It's not like Foggy hadn't thought about it, Matt was a very good looking guy and Foggy wasn't the blind one here.

"So, this is uh, different....but I would really like to blow you now, if that's okay?" Foggy internally smacked his head, because wow, way to be totally awkward about it.

Matt laughed, "That was really smooth."

"I know I know. Not all of us are Blind Matt Murdock. But seriously, can i?"

Foggy ran his hand down Matt's chest, and toyed with his waistband. They were still pressed against each other.

"I guess?" Matt stammered out, he had kind of assumed that this was all just a ploy to get him out of his own head.

Foggy grinned, and kissed him again. It was sloppy and wet, and Matt couldn't quite stop laughing, but then he was gasping too.

Foggy went to his knees with a groan, " I'm getting too old to be blowing cute guys outside of a nice comfy bed."

If there was one thing Matt had always loved about Foggy it was his totally irreverent sense of humor. Here he was about to give his friend head and he was still making jokes. Foggy laughed with him as he undid Matt's belt.

"How do you pick out your belts, Matt? Do you just assume that all your belts are the same color?" Foggy ran his mouth against that muscle at Matt's waist, how how how did Foggy deserve this?

Mat gasped and grasped at Foggy's hair. "Please, please, please." Foggy sucked a kiss there and Matt's hips jerked up. Foggy stifled a giggle and pushed down Matt's pants.

"This is gonna be a lot of fun." He licked a stripe from the bottom of Matt's cock to the head and Matt whined. He was leaking precome from the tip and everything was on fire but now it was different, bareable, not the color of rage but the color of love.

"Don't- dont tease me, Foggy, please. I want-"

Foggy glanced up at him, "What? What do you want?"

Matt rolled his head to the side, and whined and again. Foggy still refused to touch him, "Say it, Matt."

"Fine, just -okay. Suck my cock, Foggy, please put me out of my misery."

Foggy was always good at doing what he was told. He got to work and soon Matt was a writhing mess. He tried to keep still, but couldn't keep himself thrusting into Foggy's mouth when Foggy sucked particularly hard.

When he came, he came with a gasp, his orgasm surprising him. Foggy didn't let up until he had wuing every last drop from him. He sat back on his heels and smiled up at Matt, looking for all the world like the world's most impish angel.

"Feel better?"

Matt laughed, "You know, I actually do."

Matt/Foggy or Matt/anyone plausible, college days masochism

[(Anonymous)]

So college days, Matt must have had the same awful and seemingly genuine dichotomy going on where he's both this super-sweet snarky puppy (avocados at law, man) and this raging focus of damaging intent -- which he now puts to use as the resident Hell's Kichen chew toy.

Before he had that as his regular outlet, though -- how did he work it out? You have to learn how to like getting hit that much, and college tends to be where most kids try and work their kinks out.

Re: Matt/Foggy or Matt/anyone plausible, college days masochism

[(Anonymous)]

UH PLEASE, I NEED THIS THREE HUNDRED PERCENT

Matt/anyone, ridden hard and put away wet

[(Anonymous)]

What the label says, and any interpretation thereof though begging and orgasm denial would be beautiful I am just saying. Please. *Please*.

(remember Jesus forgives)

Re: Matt/anyone, ridden hard and put away wet

[(Anonymous)]

Seconded! Orgasm denial + super senses sounds more than a little amazing.

Gen or Foggy/Matt, Foggy meets stick

[(Anonymous)]

Foggy ends up meeting the man who trained Matt as a boy, despite Matt's best efforts to keep that from happening (and also his best efforts to get Stick to leave the city and get out of his life). It explains a lot more than Foggy wants it to.

Hurt/Comfort, with Matt trying to protect Foggy, but Foggy ending up getting super protective of him. Also, Matt and Stick's super complicated and fucked up relationship.

Xover with Agents of SHIELD, Skye and Matt

[(Anonymous)]

Skye and Matt both went to St Agnes orphanage. I want to see something where they were there at the same time and knew each other. You can write about when they were at the orphanage or have them meeting again later in life, but I want some exploration of that shared life experience.

It might also be interesting to explore their different takes on faith (though not in a way that vilifies their beliefs), what with Matt being a Catholic with extra-emphasis on the guilt, who feels like he had the Devil inside of him, whereas Skye is presumably an Athiest who didn't like the Nuns' pushing the Devine Punishment idea, but always liked the interpretation that "God is Love".

Re: Xover with Agents of SHIELD, Skye and Matt

[(Anonymous)]

oh holy crap yes

Matt/Karen/Foggy, puppy pile

[(Anonymous)]

Team Avocado all lying together in a heap and snuggling. Bonus points if someone falls off the edge of the bed.

Re: Matt/Karen/Foggy, puppy pile

[(Anonymous)]

ohhh my god, I am COOING at that mental image

Gen, Claire and Matt take care of Santino

[(Anonymous)]

It's probably really silly, considering he was only in two episodes, but Santino is my poor sweetie baby, and I need to see him get comforted a little. He spent the whole time we saw him scared and later beat up, I just need to see something with Matt and/or Claire taking care of him a bit.

Re: Gen, Claire and Matt take care of Santino

[(Anonymous)]

Seconded! He's like maybe in high school and got in waaaaay over his head. Poor kid needs a hug!!

Matt gets possessed by a demon

[(Anonymous)]

Exorcism time? Father Lantom gets to be a badass.

Matt giving a blowjob with the black mask on

[(Anonymous)]

That's all I need from life.
(Consensual, please)

Re: Matt giving a blowjob with the black mask on

[(Anonymous)]

What if art fill

(I get a new tablet in like a week tho)