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"Are You Blushing?"

love me some drover :)

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✨🐟PROMPTS FILLED: "Open your mouth" + "Let me see what that pretty mouth can do."🐟✨

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Day 6 - Kneel

Prompts: 9: “Open your mouth.” + 27: “Let me see what that pretty mouth can do.” Character: Matt Murdock Reader: Matt Murdock x Reader Word Count: 1545 Warnings: Explicit smut, dirty talk, oral sex (m receiving), mild hair-pulling, gentle mouth fucking, the Black Suit of Sin, the Devil of Hell's Kitchen. Taglist: @loves0phelia, @nowheredreamer, @beezusvreeland, @yarrystyleeza, @justvalkyrie, @shouldbestudying41 Tuna-Tober 2024 Masterlist

A little later than I originally planned but I hope worth the wait.

Kneel

The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen was somewhere in this apartment. Your only light was the billboard outside. It transformed your apartment from somewhere familiar into an forbidding landscape of crimson and shadows. Your Devil favored the shadows, only letting you catch glimpses of him as he stalked around on eerily silent feet.

It was easy to see why he had scared the piss out of people.

Not you. You found it exciting. In more ways than one. Your heart might be racing but there was also a wet heat forming between your legs.

A dark chuckle merged from the shadows behind you. “Haven’t even touched you and your body is already begging me. Are you so eager to be fucked by the Devil?”

You couldn’t deny that so you didn’t try. “Yes.”

“Naughty girl.” His breath ghosted over your ear. You shuddered. He was close enough to your back that you could feel the heat of his body.

Then, just as suddenly as he had appeared, he disappeared.

Not entirely. You knew he was somewhere in the apartment. You couldn’t see him. Couldn’t hear him moving around. But you knew he was there. Beyond the unlikeliness of him abandoning the little game you were playing without a warning, you could just feel his presence. The sensation of being observed.

Your breathing sounded inordinately loud in the otherwise silent apartment. Your Devil remained in the shadows, letting the anticipation build.

Then he appeared in front of you with a suddenness that made you gasp.

The red light bathing his body seemed to highlight every visible muscle. Of which there were many as the black suit fit your Devil like a second skin. You couldn’t help staring, greedily drinking in those broad shoulders, powerful chest, defined abs, and thick thighs. Nor did you miss the bulge tenting those pants.

Your cunt clenched around nothing. If you hadn’t already been aching for him before, you would be now.

The Devil before you was fully aware of effect he was having on you. You could see it in that smirk. The way he licked his lips before he moved close. His walk was unhurried but with an unmistakably predatory slink. Rather like a cat stalking after a mouse. Apt. As you did feel rather like prey.

But not in a bad way, you thought, pressing your thighs together in an effort to not squirm. Something that did not escape the Devil standing directly in front of you. That confident smirk spread wider. Feeling your cheeks warm, your gaze dropped to your bare feet. So close to his heavy black boots, they looked . . . dainty. Fragile.

Matt wasn’t an exceptionally large man. But something about the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen made you feel almost small . . . no, that wasn’t the right word . . . maybe delicate? Yes. You felt delicate, standing before the Devil dressed in an almost sheer negligee that was - barely - long enough to cover your ass.

Delicate. And more than a little naughty. Your Devil had really hit the nail on the head with that one.

A gloved hand gripped your chin. The grip was gentle but you could feel the strength in his hand. The careful control of that strength. He tipped your head back, pulling your eyes away from your feet. Your breath caught. You had never met anyone else who could give you the feeling of intense, intimate eye contact without actually meeting your eyes. But your Devil could. In many ways, having his full attention on you felt even more intense, more intimate, than mere eye contact.

And this close, you could see the hair dusting his jaw. Not quite long enough to be called a beard but too thick to be called stubble. He hadn’t been shaving. And you hoped that this behavior continued. You couldn’t put into words why exactly the idea of your Devil with a beard was so hot. You just knew that it was.

His fingers tightened, then he was kissing you. It was not gentle. Kiss was almost too mild of a word. An explosion of passion where he all but devoured you with his lips, teeth, and tongue. A kiss that deepened when his hand slid to cup the side of your face and tipped your head back further.

You returned his kiss with just as much fire. His other arm snaked around your back and pulled you against him. You moaned into his mouth, your fingers digging into his arms. You wished that erection pressed against your bare thigh wasn’t trapped in his pants. You ached for him.

You whined when the Devil broke off the kissing. Even if he looked really pretty with his lips kiss-swollen. He ran his thumb across your lip. You shivered, tempting to see just how much your Devil could feel through those gloves . . .

“Such a sweet mouth,” he mused. You shuddered. His Devil voice always did things to you but this quiet, almost conversational tone? Similar to his courtroom voice but deeper and richer? That really sent the tingles straight to your cunt.

If his other careers didn’t work out, your Devil had a bright future in erotic audiobooks. Didn’t even need to be erotic. Reading the phonebook in that voice would leave anyone hot and bothered.

“Is there more that this sweet mouth can do?”

You nodded eagerly.

“Well then,” he said. “Kneel. Let me see what this pretty mouth can do.”

You were quick to comply. As you sank to your knees, the Devil reached for his belt. Soon he was tugging down his pants and boxers. But only just far enough to free his cock. As far as dicks went, your Devil had a pretty one. Long, thick, and already leaking. Your mouth watered at the sight.

You gripped his cock in one hand and licked up one of the beads of pre-cum trailing down the side. The Devil hissed. Then, feeling suddenly mischievous, you stuck with licking. Short, flat swipes of your tongue up and down his cock. But you give particular attention to the head and that little sensitive spot just under it.

Hands grabbed your hair, firm but not painful, then pulled your head back to look at his face. The Devil’s snarl should have been scary. Was meant to be frightening. And it certainly was intimidating. But you also found it incredibly sexy.

Something, judging the flaring on his nostrils, that was not missed by your Devil.

“Very naughty girl,” he growled. “Teasing the Devil . . . soaking your panties . . . such a bad, bad girl.”

You moaned, feeling your cunt clench around nothing. The grip on your hair tightened. Not exactly painful, just the slightest sting.

“But I’ll have no more of your teasing, naughty girl. Open your mouth.”

You obeyed. He feed his cock into your waiting mouth. In a sharp contrast to his air of aggression, this was done slowly and carefully. Your Devil’s reckless streak was reserved entirely for himself. You? Not so much. 

Even with your Devil’s caution, it didn’t take long for you both to find a good rhythm. Your ears were filled with his grunts and moans along with the wet sounds of his cock filling your mouth again and again . . . the deep groans when you swallow around him . . . 

Your jaw is starting to get sore but you don’t care. You love it. Feeling your lips stretch over his girth . . . . the heavy weight on your tongue . . . the salty-bitter taste . . . that all you can smell is your Devil’s unique blend of leather, copper, spices, and old paper . . . .  you loved it all . . .

You could absolutely understand why your Devil couldn’t get enough of burying his face in your cunt.

You moaned around his cock, then felt his rhythm get sloppy. He was getting close. You moaned around him again. Digging your nails into his bare ass, you encouraged his cock further into your mouth. The deepest down your throat he had ever been. His hands, still tangled in your hair, pulled as he swore and came.

After one last suck that your Devil swearing again, you let his limp cock slip out of your mouth. Leaning your head against his legs, you closed your eyes and tried to catch your breath.

As you did, you became aware of other things. Like the aching need in your neglected cunt . . .

“Take them off.”

“What?” you asked, confused by the growled command.

“Your panties. Take them off.”

That sounded like a great idea. Your panties were uncomfortably wet. Accomplishing this was a little awkward but you managed, throwing the soiled panties somewhere into the shadows. But your Devil wasn’t done making demands.

“Stand up.”

“Why?” you asked, even as you complied with this newest demand.

A dark chuckle. “Oh, naughty girl, did you think we were done?”

He herded you backwards until your back hit the wall. “Do you think I can’t smell just how soaked that pussy is for me?”

He put his hands on the wall, either side of your head. Boxing you in. His grin was fierce . . . feral. “Because I can. And I intend to drink my fill.”

As the Devil began to sink down to his knees, he added one last command. “And naughty girl? You better not hold back a single sound.”

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✨🐟PROMPTS FILLED: "I'm not good enough.” 🐟✨

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I'm Not Good Enough🌧️

this movie was fucking ADORABLE i love it so much

Ship: Charlie Denton x gn!Reader

Rating: 13+

Wordcount: 994

Warnings: angst, alcohol, self-doubt, anxiety

Series: Leg's Tuna Tober

Chilled beer flowed past your lips as you drank from the green bottle. The fizz tickled at the back of your nose, bitter and biting, before gliding down your throat. Condensation clung to the glass and wetted your palms.

The digital clock on the end table to your left read "10:23pm," almost half an hour since Max had gone to bed. He would undoubtedly still be awake. That little trouble maker was always working on Atom, reading a booklet on robot boxing, or sketching away at his next big project. His mind never seemed to stop swirling inside his 10-year-old head.

You supposed he got that whirlwind of a brain from his father. Charlie was always two steps away from a nervous breakdown. Anxiety riddled his tired mind on an hourly basis. He'd constantly look to you for reassurance, whether it was about his parenting, his career, or simply how he treated you as a partner.

He sat to your right on the brown leather couch. Twin bottle of beer to your own clutched in his hand, body practically melted into the sofa, head resting back on the cushions with his eyes firmly shut. Wrinkles cracked his tanned skin in the corners of his eyes and the space between his furrowed brows.

"Doing okay?" you asked as quietly as you could, scared to break the uneasy silence that had settled ever since Max was sent to bed. The air in the cluttered living room was heavy with an unidentifiable unease.

Charlie shrugged as his hazel eyes fell open, "Usual bullshit. Don't worry 'bout me."

You sighed as you set your beer on the end table. An array of rings were stained into the light wood from countless nights spent drinking on the couch. Leather creaked under the weight of you shifting to face Charlie.

"I'm always worried about you, hon. What's going on?" you insisted with a gentle prod against his shoulder. He grunted at the poke, lazily swatting your hand away.

"Don't wanna bother you. Forget it," he muttered. Further worry lines creased along his face as he took a long drag from his beer bottle. His Adam's apple bobbed with each thick swallow.

A sigh blew from your pursed lips in a thin stream. Dating someone as anxiety-ridden as Charlie had its challenges. You tried your best to navigate through the raging tempest inside his mind, course-correcting his lost ship along the choppy waves, keeping him from sinking to the ocean floor.

Some days were easier than others. That metric ton of stress that weighed on his mind seemed to lighten, his smile wider, more energy spilling from his bright, hazel eyes. He'd be more willing to practice with Atom on the robot's boxing combinations or to guide Max through verbal commands.

Today was not one of those days.

"How about you tell me the first thought that pops in your head and we leave it at that?" you offered with a kind smile. Seeing your partner like this drove a grief-lined spear through your heart every time. Forced to watch as this extraordinary man folded in on himself, reduced to barely half of his size, as he wallowed in his racing heart and clouded brain.

Charlie considered your proposition for a few moments. He tilted his head back and forth, stretching the tense muscles lining his broad neck.

"Alright," he finally said. You sat up straighter amongst the couch cushions. Focus fully fixed on the man beside you, chin resting in your palm and eyes passing between each of his. He sighed, clearly uncomfortable with your undivided attention, then mumbled, "I feel like I'm not good enough. For Max... And for you."

You kept your expression neutral as his words slammed into your stomach like a sack of bricks. Swallowing the lump that'd gathered in your throat, you said, "What makes you think that?"

"I'm always like this. Always caught up in my own head, not giving both of you the attention that you need. That you deserve," Charlie nearly rambled, voice barely above a whisper. The words tumbled from him like stones dipped in sorrow.

"Both Max and I know that you have your quirks," you began in a joking manner, attempting to lighten the dreary mood, "No one's perfect, Charlie. No one expects you to be at 110% every single day. You're not one of our robots, you're a human. And a great father, at that. I see the way Max looks at you. That kid loves you so damn much. He's a smart kid, he understands what you're going through. Guess what? Doesn't make him love you any less."

The brief speech seemed to settle on Charlie's shoulders like thick snow. His breath shuddered, lower lip quivering, as he screwed his eyes shut, "Do you mean that?"

"Of course I do, hon. We both love you," you said softly while running a hand through his buzzed hair. The short strands tickled at the skin between your fingers.

He threw you off kilter as large arms enveloped you in a tight embrace. His pointed nose buried in your hair, beer long forgotten on the floor, arms squeezing you so tight you couldn't even dream of escaping. Not that you wanted to.

You were quick to return the hug, hands locking behind Charlie's back. Gentle hums leaked from your closed lips as you rested your chin on his shoulder. A little off-key, not quite matching the song you and Charlie had claimed as your own, but it comforted him nonetheless. He settled in your arms like a deflated balloon.

Anxiety is not an easy thing to deal with. It wracks one's mind with endless worry and near-paranoia at times. Makes one's heart race, their skin itching like it's on fire, stomach tying itself in knots. One day you'd get Charlie to see a therapist. Until then, you'd continue plotting his course through the hurricane and into your open arms.

screaming crying throwing up etc.

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"You don't need to do that." "I want to."🪻

leo is just the perfect vessel for fluff. I DON'T MAKE THE RULES

Ship: Duke Leopold Mountbatten x f!Reader

Rating: 13+

Wordcount: 774

Warnings: periods, possible endometriosis, cursing, nausea

Series: Leg's Tuna Tober

You ached all over.

Not just your abdomen, where your willful uterus throbbed with every breath and sent shocks of agony down your spine, but everywhere else. Your breasts were sensitive to the touch, your back was stiffer than a board, and the muscles in your hips gave out a few hours ago.

All you could do was bury yourself in the couch cushions and groan occasionally. Waves of nausea emanated from your stomach, coursing through your body in violent bursts. You couldn't get up and get water because your head hadn't stopped spinning since you woke up.

Periods. Fucking. Suck.

The ice pack you'd grabbed before your symptoms truly set in had long since melted. A puddle of water cradled the ice pack tauntingly where it sat on the rug. You stared at the blue plastic through half-lidded eyes. If looks could kill, the room-temperature ice pack would be nothing but ash.

Jingling keys in the apartment's door drew your ire from the hunk of plastic. You watched the brass knob turn, the hinges catching a bit, as Leo forced his way through the troublesome door. A large plastic bag crinkled where it was gripped in his large hand. Bulging boxes stretched at the thin material.

"Darling?" he called as the door swung shut behind him. One of your loose sweatshirts hung from his broad shoulders. What seemed monstrous on you just barely fit Leopold. The green of the cotton made his bright, hazel eyes gleam in the apartment's ceiling lights.

"In here," you grumbled tiredly. Another throb centered in your abdomen made you wince. You ground your teeth, eyes screwing shut, as you tried to work through the pain.

"Oh, my love. How bad is it?" Leo asked, voice growing closer as he approached what felt like your death bed. Well, death couch. You peered at him through squinted eyes.

"Bad," you answered with a groan. The plastic bag crinkled as Leo set it next to the couch. You just barely caught a glimpse of the pads and tampons he'd bought while he was out.

"How ba- Lord!" he exclaimed. It seemed he'd found the puddle. Your giggle at his misfortune quickly shifted to a strained sigh as the muscles in your back creaked. Leo adjusted where he knelt by your head, "Damned ice. How's your nausea? Any better than before I left?"

You gingerly shook your head, "Nope."

"When was the last time you drank some water?" he asked. A warm palm rested on your oversensitive shoulder. It was soft, strong, the fingers massaging circles into your sore muscles. An involuntary sigh escaped your chapped lips.

"Can't remember. Been a while," you replied, eyes falling closed as Leo smoothed his hand up and down your arm. He always had a way of calming the turmoil inside you. Like a lighthouse guiding a battered ship to shore.

"How about I get you some water, hm? You can rifle through what I've bought while I do that," he suggested with a kind smile. You couldn't help but mirror the expression.

"You didn't need to do all that, hon. I could've ordered it," you said.

Feigned offense washed over Leo's face. His eyebrows furrowed, nose scrunched near the bridge, as a forced frown tugged at his mouth, "I'm shocked that you'd even consider using your telly-phone over your perfectly good me!"

The laugh that shook your chest felt revitalizing in a way. Like the first rays of sunshine after a violent storm. It was easy to forget your pains for a moment.

Leo's charade didn't last. His furious expression broke as he laughed with you, saying "Besides, I wanted to. I like caring for you."

Warmth blossomed in your chest. Petals of kindness and utter devotion floated across your lungs with every breath you took. This man. This out-of-time man, the one who'd completely won your heart, was as infatuated with you as you were with him. The thought helped ease the aches slithering up your spine.

"Pilfer the bag, I'll get your water," Leo uttered quietly. He pressed a gentle kiss to your hairline. You couldn't help the way your pulse involuntarily kicked up at the action. He always had a way of making your heart race.

Having your period was never easy. It fucking sucked. From the agonizing ache rooted in your uterus to the full-body shakes you'd get, that time of the month could be an utter nightmare. But, as you pulled several bars of chocolate out of the plastic bag, the nightmare was starting to look more like a domestic dream. One you never would've expected with Duke Leopold Mountbatten.

Y'ALL I'M IN LOVE WITH A FAKE PERSON

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Day 7 - Distant

Prompt: 7: Honest Apology + Alt: “I’m in love with you, and that scares me.” Character: Frank Castle Pairing: Frank Castle x Reader Word Count: 2318 Warnings: Break-up fears, referenced near-fatal injury, referenced canon character death, fear of death, fear of loss. Taglist: @loves0phelia, @nowheredreamer, @beezusvreeland, @yarrystyleeza Tuna-Tober 2024 Masterlist

Companion piece to Day 27 - You Are To Me, Day 1 - Why?, and Day 11 - Proof of Life

Distant

You put down your phone. You took a deep breath, shallowing the lump in your throat. You weren’t going to cry. Not here at the coffee shop. You hated crying in public.

Frank hadn’t answered your call. He hadn’t been answering any of your calls. Or your texts. And he hadn’t tried to call back. Not a single word out of him. And you hadn’t seen him either.

You knew he wasn’t dead. Someone would have told you. They wouldn’t let you just sit and worry.

And you didn’t think he had his phone. Or otherwise couldn’t communicate. None of your mutual friends had called or come to see you, asking if you had heard from Frank. Which they would have if he hadn’t contacted any of them for a week.

You didn’t understand. Frank had never done this. While he did have a tendency to slink off to nurse his wounds or illnesses in private, he had always responded to you. Always called or texted back. Likewise he had done some missions where it was too dangerous to contact you until it was over. But he had always warned you about that before he left. This time he hadn’t. He had just left.

Just walked out of the door of the place you shared like it was ordinary morning. With the exception that he hadn’t kissed you good-bye like he usually did . . . and then nothing. You hadn’t see him. You hadn’t hear from him. He had just walked out. Without a single backwards glance. Like you meant nothing.

Tears burned your eyes. You tried to fight them. You weren’t going to cry  . . . you weren’t . . . you weren’t . . .

Something thumped onto the table, startling you. It was a coffee. And sliding into the booth across from you was Karen. She looked concerned.

“Hi Karen,” you said, trying to conjure a smile.

Her worried frown deepened. Apparently your efforts failed to pass muster. Seemed to be pattern.

“What’s wrong? You look like you’re trying not to cry.”

“Nothing,” you lied. “Everything is fine.”

“Lie,” Karen said.

“Is Matt contagious?” You asked. “Should I watch out for signs of ninja syndrome? Are you experiencing the sudden urge to jump out of random windows?”

Your attempt at humor fell as flat as your smile. Karen just looked at you, skeptism mixed with concern. “I don’t need Matt’s ninja skills to know you were lying. But while we were on the topic of Matt, he said you smelled like stress and like you had been crying yesterday.”

Thinking back on it, Matt had seemed more concerned than usual when he asked how you were doing . . . kept asking if you were sure that you were fine. If his recess hadn’t been ending, he probably would have pushed . . . 

You startled again when you were touched. Just Karen again, her hand resting ontop of yours. Her blue eyes full of sympathy and concern. “You know you can tell me. What’s wrong?”

Maybe it was the sympathy in her voice. Maybe it was the geniune worry. Maybe you just really needed someone to talk to. But soon, the whole story came spilling out. About how, about a week after you had gotten out of the hospital, Frank had been . . . different. Quieter, more distant. Obviously stressed about something. He had nightmares. Something had been bothering him but he refused to tell you. Not entirely unusual. Getting Frank to open up sometimes was like pulling teeth. From the mouth of a particularly angry tiger. So you hadn’t thought it worrying, thought that he would talk to you when he was ready. Just like he had before.

Only this time he didn’t. And then he left.

By the time you reached the end of your explanation, you had lost the battle with the tears. Karen had moved to sit next to you, so she could give you a hug. It was one-armed hug because of the booth but you’d take it.

“I’m so sorry,” Karen said, her voice a mixture of sympathy and anger. “I thought something was up with Frank. But I didn’t realize he was pulling this shit.”

“I just don’t understand,” you said. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “My best guess is that it has something with you getting shot. That really scared him.”

“I know,” you said. You remembered the look on his face just before you lost consciousness. The look when you woke up in the hospital. And when the doctor came in to explain just how lucky you were to you and your ‘husband.’ But he had been so attentive when you first got home . . . then it was like a switch had flipped. And all that warmth had disappeared.

“Did anything out of ordinary happen?”

“No,” you said. “The nightmares were bad just before he left but that’s happened before. And he didn’t take off. Might have slept on the couch until they settled down but he stayed.”

You shallowed. “Until now. Only other difference between then and now was that I told him I loved him.”

Karen smiled. It was a sad, little smile. “Finally told him? When?”

“The hospital,” you said. “He wanted to know what the hell I was thinking, pushing him out of the way like that. And I wasn’t . . . There was a gun pointing at the back of the man I love and I just . . . reacted.”

Karen made a thoughtful humming sound. “I’m guessing he didn’t say it back.”

“No,” you said. “Maybe because he doesn’t feel the same way.”

There it was. The truth that you had been trying to avoid. That Frank didn’t feel the same. Oh, he obviously cared about you. He liked you. Found you attractive. But none of that meant he loved you.

“Maybe,” Karen said but she didn’t sound convinced.

You felt a surge of rage. “The fucking coward could at least tell me to my face. Instead of just . . . ghosting me.”

“I agree,” Karen said. “It’s a shitty thing to do . . .”

Then she got that ‘eureka’ look on her face, like all of the puzzle pieces had just clicked together. “I think I know what’s going on. And how to get it fixed.”

“I don’t know if this can be fixed,” you said morosely, feeling very tired. That surge of anger had used up what was left of your energy.

“You’d rather he stay gone?”

“No,” you said. “I love him. I want to be with him forever. Guess he just doesn’t feel that way. I just wish . . . if he doesn’t want to be part of my life anymore, that he’d just say so. It will break my heart even more than it already is but at least I’d know. I deserve that much.”

“You’re absolutely right,” Karen said. “Now let’s get you back home. I’m going to fix this.”

You didn’t mean to doubt Karen. Normally you had every confidence in her brilliant mind and determination to achieve whatever she set out to accomplish. But you weren’t feeling particularly optimistic today.

She must have seen the skepticial look on your face. “Trust me. I’m an expert of getting stupidly stubborn men to remove their heads from their asses.”

***

You should have never doubted Karen. Because two days later, there he was. Standing by your front door with a bakery box in his hand. He at least had the grace to look sheepish and awkward.

“Frank,” you greeted, managing to keep your voice cool and even.

“Sweetheart,” he returned

“Am I?” you asked, a hint of your anger entering your voice. “Because you could have fucking fooled me.”

“You are,” he said, grimacing. “Through I can see why you’d think otherwise.”

He took a deep breath. “May I come in?”

At least he didn’t think he had the right to just waltz right in like nothing had happened. And while the angry, hurt parts of your heart want to shout no, go away before you hurt me again . . . the larger part of your heart, the part that loved Frank enough to take a bullet for him, won. “You may.”

You moved to unlock the door, drawing his attention to the grocery sacks in your hands. He scowled and said, “The docs said no lifting anything above a couple pounds.”

For some reason, this made your blood boil. You glared at him. “That I’m not supposed to pick up the milk jug right now didn’t seem to concern you when you fucking walked out without a goddamn word!”

He grimaced. “You can be pissed at me. You should be. But please, sweetheart, don’t hurt yourself. Let me carry the damn groceries.”

You wanted to argue. The angry, hurt part wanted to insist that you could carry them yourself. That you were fine on your own. That you didn’t help. Especially not from him. But good sense won out. Your injured shoulder was screaming at you, the dull ache growing into something sharp and throbbing over the course of the grocery run.

“Fine,” you said, allowing him to take the bags. You were given the bakery box in exchange. Holding it in your good hand, you let him into your apartment. He refused to let you put anything away, pointing out that even as individual pieces, some of it was still too heavy. You decided not to argue. The idea of raising your arm above your head right now made you want to cry.

Watching him move through your kitchen - the kitchen that you had hoped that he would one day think of as ‘ours’ instead of just ‘yours’ - made the tears prick at your eyes. But you refused to let them fall. Frank had gotten enough tears from you this week.

To distract yourself, you looked into the bakery box he had brought. Inside were two small cakes. One was a blackout cake and the other was chantilly cake with fresh raspberries. You felt your heart skip a beat. You had mentioned that you weren’t sure which cake you wanted for your birthday. You loved both so much. Made a joke about that as soon as you picked one, you’d get a craving for the other one.

An off-hand mention in a conversation from months ago. And he remembered. 

More tears pricked at your eyes, torn on what to feel. He remembered. But he had also abandoned you without a word . . .

“I’m sorry.”

You looked up from the cake, startled. “What?”

He was standing by your counter, his shoulders slumped. Regardless, when he realized that you were looking at him, he meet your eyes. You knew him well enough to see the regret, the remorse on his face. In those big brown eyes. “I’ve been an asshole. Leaving you without sayin’ anything - you’re right. That was the coward’s way and it was a rotten thing to do. You didn’t deserve that. I’m so sorry.”

“Why?” you asked. “Why did you do that? I thought we had a good thing going here.”

He took a deep breath. “Because I’m in love with you, and that scares me.”

You could have been knocked over by a feather. He loved you? Truly? “You love me?”

“Yeah,” he said, fidgeting with a can of peas. “Realized it when you were in the hospital.”

“And this scared you?” You said. “Why?”

“Because I almost lost you!” He shouted, his hand squeezing the can of peas. He took a deep breath, visibly regained control of himself. Put down the now-dented can. “You almost died, sweetheart. I felt your pulse getting weaker and weaker . . . You almost died.”

He swallowed thickly, then added, “You noticed the nightmares?”

“Yeah.”

“In my dreams, the ambulance didn’t make it in time. Or you died in surgery. I could see your body, cold and lifeless, along side . . . . Maria. Over and over again.”

He ducked his head. “You almost died. Because of me. Just sheer dumb luck that you didn’t . . .  like . . . my family. Baby, I can’t do that again. I can’t. I’m not that strong.”

He might be hiding his face but you could hear the tears in his voice. “I can’t lose you too. I can’t. There’s not enough left of my heart to survive that.”

You couldn’t take it anymore. No matter how angry you were, you couldn’t ignore his pain. You walked over and wrapped your good arm around his waist. He wrapped his arms around you and buried his face in your hair. This close, you could feel him shaking. The rapid pulse in his neck. He really was terrified. Truly terrified. “I’m not dead, Frank. I’m alive.”

“This time,” he muttered in your hair. “Next time-”

“There’s no next time. You wouldn’t lose me.”

“You can’t promise me that,” he said. “I wish to God that you could. But you can’t.”

He was right. You hated that he was right. “Then I’ll be more careful. We’ll both be more careful.”

This time, you shallowed hard. Fighting the lump that wanted to lodge in your throat, “Unless you’d rather not risk it. If you want to leave . . .”

It would break your heart in itty, bitty pieces but you’d let him go if you had to. You couldn’t make someone stay who did not want to stay. Not without destroying everything good between you.

His arms tightened.

“No,” he said, his voice thick. “I don’t want to leave you. I love you. I’m terrified. But I love you.”

“I love you, too,” you said. “I accept your apology.”

You more felt than heard the sigh of relief. “I’m still hurt. We’re going to have a very long talk about it. But I love you and I forgive you.”

“Got some groveling to do, don’t I?” You could hear the smile.

“Yes, you do. But that cake is a good start.”

He laughed. It was watery but genuine.

Things were by no means perfect. But as you said, it was a good start.

Author’s Notes

A blackout cake or Brooklyn Blackout cake is a layer chocolate cake filled with chocolate pudding, frosted in chocolate frost, and topped with chocolate cake crumbs.

A Chantilly cake is a layer cake filled with berries and chantilly cream (a type of sweetened whipped cream), frosted win the same cream and topped with fresh berries in a pretty pattern.  In this particular case raspberries but it can be any berries so feel free to imagine different berries.

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Day 1 - Reading to Each Other

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader Word Count: 827 Content: Fluff!! Long distance relationship (but like not really), no use of y/n, gender neutral reader Tuna-Tober 2024 Masterlist <- check out the other fics posted this month!

A/N: And so we begin. . . five days late but it's alright! I cheated the prompt a lil bit; it's for a good cause, trust me. Be sure to like and reblog if you enjoy and let me know if you want to be a part of a taglist!

“One whole week?!” Foggy cries out, “How will you ever survive without them?”

Matt shakes his head and goes back to feeling the braille for the newest case they’re working on. “I’ll be fine.”

“Right.” Foggy stretches the word out and looks over to you. You’re standing by the entrance of Nelson, Murdock and Page arms crossed and giving the both of them a knowing look. 

“It’ll go by faster than you think,” 

Foggy laughs and walks over to the kitchen. “Are you reassuring me or Foggy?” Matt asks.

“Yes.”

“Ha!”

You glance behind you and stick your tongue out at Foggy, he reciprocates.

“But really, it will be okay Matt,” You walk over to him and hug his shoulders. He smiles up towards you and sighs. “I do have a surprise, but you gotta promise me you won’t listen to it unless you miss me.”

Matt raises an eyebrow, “Oh? And what would it be?”

You roll your eyes at him, “It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you, now would it?”

You reach into your pocket and pull out a beat-up mp3 player. You flip it around in your hand, trying to calm your nerves before holding it out in front of Matt. 

His smile increases as you gently take his hand and put the mp3 player in it. He wants to laugh at how nervous you are, your heartbeat absolutely pounding out of control, it’s so cute.

“Don’t laugh!” You bring a hand up to cover your embarrassment. Maybe a small chuckle did escape, it’s worth it to feel your blood rushing towards your face. You shake your head, trying to clear your head. You glance at the clock on the wall and your breathing increases.

“Oh god, I’m going to be late for the Amtrak.” You mumble. You give Matt a quick peck on his lips before rushing out the front door. 

“I’ll call you once I get to the hotel, or if I get bored on the train.” You wave goodbye and before Matt could say goodbye back you’re gone.

The rest of the day passes by so slowly for Matt that by the time he gets back into his apartment he just wants to hold you in his arms. . .but you’re not home.

He tries his best to shake off the lonely feeling slowly creeping into his chest. It’s been months since you and Matt have been apart for more than a day and he already feels like he’s losing it. 

Matt takes a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. You were simply going away for work and would be home soon. His phone buzzes and he reaches into his pocket. Opening it up he hears the automated voice tell him, “One new message: Arrived at the hotel and already missing you. Be careful tonight, I love you; heart emoji, devil emoji.”

He smirks and sends an audio message back. “I miss you too Sweetheart. I’ll be sure to give you a call in the morning before I head to court. I love you.”

“Message sent.” The automated voice informs.

Surprisingly while the Devil patrols there isn’t a whole lot of activity that he needs to deal with. A few carjackings here and there as well as a couple of muggers, but thankfully nothing big. Once he gets back to his apartment, Matt starts removing his suit and tries to meditate, but his mind is clouded with thoughts of you though.

Words cannot describe how much he misses your gentle hands grounding him and helping him release the stress from patrolling. He misses the way you would read out whatever story you’re reading that night while he rests his head on your chest, helping him drift off to sleep.

Wait. . . what was on that mp3 player?

He walks over to his bedroom and reaches for his jacket laying on the ground. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the mp3 you gave him earlier in the day. He finds a pair of spare earbuds and sits on the edge of the bed.

Unsure of what he’s going to hear he tentatively presses play and waits.

“Hello Matty! I know I’m going to be gone for a while so I thought to make a couple recordings of what I’m currently reading. If you want I made a recording for 6 chapters that way you can listen to one each night that I’m gone.”

He smiles. He can feel a warm feeling grow in his chest; a reassurance that you will be there to help him no matter what. Your voice rings out starting to read aloud the chapter you were currently reading for your book and as you read aloud you sometimes pause and give your opinions on what’s happening to Matt before getting back into character and reading the story again.

He finished all 6 recordings that night, which you scolded him for once you got back home.

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✨🐟PROMPTS FILLED: ALMOST GETTING CAUGHT🐟✨

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Day 6 - Almost Getting Caught

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x Reader Word Count: 405 Content: Fluff, a little suggestive but it's not smut, Reader is Yuji's Aunt (she's his mom's sister) Tuna-Tober 2024 Masterlist <- check out the other fics posted this month!

A/N: Once again I wrote this in about 20 minutes so it's definitely not perfect. That being said this is a small little taste of a series that I'm working on and want to post soon (I just want to have most of the fic written out before I start posting it)! Also this is from the backup prompt list of Tuna-Tober. Enjoy!!

“Hey Auntie, I had a quest-”

“YUJI! What a surprise!!” THUNK! You come out of your bedroom, slamming the door shut and straightening out your teaching uniform.

Yuji looks at you with confusion, his hand resting on his chin, eyes squinting like he’s in deep thought. You know what’s really going on in his head is just radio silence. You shake your head to avoid laughing at how serious he looks.

You fix your hair, “What is it hon?”

“I was just wondering if you would spar with me, but if you’re busy-?”

“I’m not busy at all, just um. . .” You brush off stray dust off your skirt, “I was just going for my usual run and I sensed you walking towards my room and I figured I’d save you the trouble of finding me.” You smile at him, hoping that would be convincing enough.

He breaks his concentration and gives you a smile back, “That’s really thoughtful of you Auntie.”

“Well, I can meet you at the gym in about 15 minutes. Let me get into something more appropriate for sparring.”  

“Okay I’ll see you in a bit then!” He salutes at you as you lead him out of your room. Once he’s out of your sight you sigh and shut the door. Your bedroom door slowly opens as Gojo peaks his head out.

“Well?”

“He bought it.”

“Seriously?” Gojo fully opens the door, shirt fully off and his blindfold askew.

“We only have 10 minutes though,” You start unbuttoning the top of your uniform, walking up to Gojo.

“I seem to remember someone saying she’ll meet Yuji in 15~” He leans down and starts leaving a trail of kisses down your neck.

You try to push him away, your resolve weakening, “10 minutes Gojo.”

He works his way back up your neck and gives you a quick kiss on your lips, “15.”

You give him a look as he starts helping you undress, “10.” 

He doesn’t stop smiling as he kisses you again, “15.” 

“10.” You breathe out once he pulls away. You tug his blindfold off and push him towards your bed. 

He reaches out to you, “You’re not winning this fight sweetheart~” 

“Five of your minutes just ticked away~” You put your hand in his and he immediately pulls you into the bed with him.

“And that leaves us with 10 minutes, it’s settled then. Glad we could figure this out.”

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Tuna-tober Day 4 ALT

Here's day 4 of Tuna-tober! I used one of the alternative prompts for this day!

Prompt: Moving In Together

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Reader

Word Count: 433

You and Michael had been seeing each other for quite some time. Moving in together was the next logical step in your relationship. And yet, you were nervous. You tried to hide it from Michael, not wanting him to think you didn't want to move in together. Because you did want to move in with him. You wanted it more than you could tell. 

But anxiety was not logical. It liked to remind you of all the things that could go wrong.

You found yourself hoping Michael wasn't able to pick up on your anxiety. You didn't want him to think you were having second thoughts. This was what you wanted. You were just nervous. 

Too bad things didn't always go your way.

Michael approached you the morning before you moved and watched you carefully. You were in one of his shirts and you were in the process of making coffee. But he could see the way you'd chewed your lip to the point of bleeding. He could see the way you would get lost in thought. He knew something was wrong and he was so worried that you were changing your mind. 

“Pet?” He called out softly. You jumped at his voice but thankfully you hadn't picked up the coffee yet. You turned to face him with your hand clutched over you chest.

“Mikey! You scared me.” He chuckled and moved closer, pulling you into his arms. He kissed your temple.

“‘m sorry, pet. It wasn't on purpose.”

“I know. Gonna put a bell on you so I can hear you coming.” You both chuckled at that. “Did you want to ask me something, Mikey?”

Michael swallowed hard before nodding. He smoothed a hand down your back.

“Just wanted ta check in with ya. Ya still wanna move in, right?” He asked timidly. You immediately pulled back to look at him.

“Of course I do! Why would you think otherwise?”

“I noticed that ye've been nervous lately. Anxious. I just wanted ta make sure ya hadn't changed your mind.” He said quietly. You sighed and settled your forehead on his shoulder.

“That's because I have been. It's not that I don't want to move in with you, because I do. It's just that I'm nervous. This is a big step for both of us and I want to make sure it goes smoothly.” Michael slipped a hand under your chin and tilted your head back so you were looking at him.

“Yer right. It is a big step. But we both want it and we're both ready. So let's take it. Together.”

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Day 7 - Nothing Underneath (18+)

Paring: Matt Murdock x Reader Word Count: 947 Content: SMUT!! So this fic is 18+ MDNI (I mean it kids, go read some fluff or angst! This ain't for you!) Tuna-Tober 2024 Masterlist <- check out the other fics posted this month!

A/N: So this is my first time writing smut so I’m sorry if it’s awkward ; I’m trying to push myself writing wise with this writing challenge. Also I’m so so so sorry in advance for the abrupt ending, I wanted to make sure I got this fic out tonight. Ya girl is tired and has a morning shift to wake up for please forgive me (╥﹏╥)

Matt always feels a twinge of guilt every time he has to leave you alone in the apartment when he does his patrols. 

Especially on a night like tonight.

I mean it was just your typical day. . . excluding the fact that you both are just very horny for each other. 

And it wasn’t like you aren’t usually! It was just neither of you had the chance to fuck each other in a couple days and the tension was starting to get to Matt.

“Red?”

Every small touch you did, every time you kissed him goodbye before his patrol, even the one call you did earlier in the week had him getting hard.

All he wanted to do was stay between your thighs and love on you, was that too much to ask?

“Red!” 

Apparently it was. Matt looks over at Frank who was smirking.

“Go home man, you clearly need to work through some things.”

“What are you talking about? I’m fine.” The white knuckled grip on his billy clubs says otherwise, so Frank just rolls his eyes.

“Uh-huh,” He looks back at the empty lot that they’ve been watching over for the past two hours. They got tipped off that a drug deal was sighted around this block, so they’ve been keeping watch to see where it could potentially lead to.

“Y’know. . .” Frank starts, “I’ve been doing just fine without your special senses for years now,” Matt tilts his head in the direction of a building that was seemingly empty, his lips forming a thin line. 

Frank stills and waits. . . nothing.

“Just go home Red.”

. . . “Fine.”

Frank’s eyebrows shoot up, but his expression remains the same.

“There’s not a lot of activity happening inside the building anyways, call me if that changes.”

“You got it Red.” Frank wouldn’t call tonight, Matt figured as much, but it was still worth it to remind him.

Matt starts heading back to his apartment, leaping and bounding across the different rooftops, trying to make it back home before you head to bed.

You figured the Devil would be out late again tonight, just as he had like the past few days. You couldn’t be upset at Matt, but that doesn’t mean you can’t feel frustrated about the circumstances. Almost every time you tried to make a move on Matt he would have to go to work, go patrolling and when he got home you were asleep.

This night was going to be different, you thought. You were determined to fuck him tonight, you just needed to stay awake along enough to do so.

At first you figured it would be good to wear some lingerie to get you in the mood, but after about an hour of just lounging around waiting for Matt to come through the window you could feel your eyes wanting to droop.

You shake your head and decide to just fuck it and not wear any clothes, yeah that’ll do it! You weren’t even sure if he would be able to tell unless he was close enough to you. Smiling, you remove the lingerie you put on and walk back into your shared bedroom. You slip under the covers, completely naked, just scrolling on your phone waiting patiently for your devil to return home. Still a bit bored, but horny, you slowly reach down and start slowly toying with your clit, thinking how Matt would be so much better.

All you wanted was just his mouth to devour you, no maybe have him fuck you til you couldn’t cum anymore. A small moan escapes your lips as you keep playing with your clit, moving your fingers in a circular motion but barely putting any pressure.

Your breathing shallows as you start moving your hand faster and faster, but it just doesn’t satisfy you. Feeling frustrated you remove your hand and roll to your side putting your phone down. Maybe you should just go to sleep, you guys can fuck in the-

“Sweetheart?”

“Matt?” You turn around and see Matt, breathing heavily but with each breath you see him get more and more tense.

“Fuck, are you naked?” His voice lower than before.

“Yes, I just-” He walks over to you and you look away from him, “I dunno-” He shifts you to face him his body right in between your legs, “I thought-”

He kisses you with a searing passion cutting you off. You moan into the kiss grabbing onto his face pulling him closer towards you. You can feel him smile as you reach the base of his neck, gently tugging some of his hair. 

He starts moving down your neck, kissing every exposed part of you “I want you like this every time I come home.” He tells you in between kisses. You breathe out a laugh, seeing that he’s still mostly dressed in his nightly outfit.

“Matty your suit-”

“I don’t care.” He kneels down to go further down your body until his face is at your cunt. He sighs happily as he moves his hand up your body, gently grabbing onto one of your boobs. With his other hand, he inserts two fingers into your dripping cunt, slowly working them in and out.

You moan his name as he continues to work his hands on your body, waves of pleasure making your eyes go hazy. 

He removes his hand from your cunt and takes a taste from his fingers, moaning. You look over at him and notice that he’s managed to remove his pants just enough to start palming his cock with the hand that was just inside you. 

This was going to be a long night, but you both needed it.

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✨🐟PROMPT FILLED: SOMNOPHILIA 🐟✨

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Day 3 - Sleeping Beauty

Prompt: 1 - Somnophilia Character: Matt Murdock Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader Word Count: ~900 Warnings: Somnophilia, referenced oral sex (f and m receiving), hand-job, p in v sex, unprotected sex Tags: @loves0phelia, @nowheredreamer, @beezusvreeland, @yarrystyleeza Tuna-Tober 2024 Masterlist

Sleeping Beauty

It was early. Far too early to be awake on a day neither of you had anywhere to be. You really ought to go back to sleep. That would be the most sensible thing to do.

But you didn’t want to do the sensible thing.

Not with Matt sprawled across your bed, the early morning light painting his nude body in an ethereal glow. It was sight fit for a Cavaragio. One of his fallen angels. Or one of the martyrs. Something holy. Which was pretty ironic. Given that your thoughts were anything but holy.

No, your mind was on all the ways Matt could make you scream. There were so many. You were rather amazed that you hadn’t gotten a noise complaint. It wasn’t lack of effort. You certainly hadn’t been quiet earlier this week when he had his face buried in your cunt. Not that you ever were. Matt had a very talented mouth. And a lot of enthusiasm for eating you out.

Not that your man was a one-trick pony. Far from it. He was equally talented with his hands and his cock. With similar level of enthusiasm. You were pretty sure that if he could, Matt would spent the rest of his life between your thighs. With his biggest dilmenia being deciding between fucking you with his tongue or his cock.

If you were being perfectly honest, that didn’t sound terrible.

But that did remind you that it had been too long since you and Matt last had sex. Probably not by someone’s standards since it had only been three days. But that was three too many as far as you were concerned. You wanted him inside you.

It was stupid early but you doubted that he would complain about being woken up for sex. You considered your options. Simply shake his shoulder until he woke up? Or ride him until pleasure pulled him out of the depths of slumber?

The second option had a lot of appeal. It was straightforward. It would turn Matt into a blissful puddle. And he had been very intrigued by the idea when you had first shared the fantasy with him. Unfortunately, turning that fantasy into a reality had proved trickier than either of you had anticipated.

You had gotten close on the last time. Very close. Maybe this time you would succeed.

Settling between his legs, you took a deep breath. Held it, then let it out slowly. If there was one thing your previous attempts had taught you, it was that this required patience. Go too fast and he’d wake up before you were ready.

Holding your breath, you placed your hands on top of his thigh. He didn’t stir. You breathed a sigh of relief. The first touch was among the most fraught, one of the moments where he was mostly likely to be startled awake. You gently massaged his thigh, marveling as you always did at the muscle laying under his skin.

He shifted, murmuring something too soft and jumbled for you to make you. For a moment, you thought you had failed. Again. But just as soon as it had started, the movement ended. When your fingers dared to brush against the more sensitive skin of his inner thigh, the skin rippled but otherwise there was no reaction.

Except his cock. It was waking up even if the rest of him wasn’t. As it had every time you had tried this. Could be the touching. Matt loved being touched, always leaning into your touch and looking a little disappointed whenever the touching stopped. Could be your arousal. You could feel how wet you were. Matt had shown himself unable to ignore such things. He might be able to restrain himself from ravishing you on the pool table at Josie’s but not from whispering all the things he wanted to do with you once you were alone in your ear.

Your cunt clenched at those memories. And had to take a moment to supress the urge to just grab his partially erect cock. As much as you wanted him inside you, that would absolutely wake Matt up. And you didn’t get that many chances to attempt this fantasy.

Your patience was rewarded. When you slipped your hand around his cock, it twitched and Matt murmured again but did not wake. Feeling more confident, you used a combination of your hands and mouth to work him into full hardness. All the while, Matt’s murmuring increased, sometimes becoming clear enough to be understand (sweetheart . . . . yes . . . please), along with his restless movements. Still in the depths of sleep but he was swimming toward the surface.

You didn’t have much time left. It was time to be bold. After making sure his cock was coated in your slick, you lined it up with your entrance and began to sink down. You couldn’t contain your moans. Even the smallest amount of him inside you felt so good . . . a feeling that only grew as you brought him deeper and deeper inside you. Until he was fully sheathed inside your cunt.

And wonder of wonders, Matt was on that gray zone between sleeping and awake. His eyes hadn’t fluttered open yet but he was aware enough that his hands were grabbing your ass. Not quite aware enough to stop the restless movements of his hips. Or the whiny moans from spilling out of his mouth.

Smiling in triumphant, you braced your hands on his chest and began to ride him.