#Matt is a girl dad

[sylkiddsey]

The people have spoken and this coincidentally from the section I wanted to preview haha 🤣 Anyway, here’s a little sneak peek :)

🏡🍼❤️‍🩹

She can’t believe he was afraid she wouldn’t like him. She practically melted in his arms when he held her. He’s actually the one who stopped her meltdown when they first showed up to Patty’s.

Now, Julia’s fast asleep in his arms while they lounge on Patty’s couch. She looks so safe with him, and this is all she’s ever wanted since she delivered Julia.

“She loves you,” Sylvie whispers, resting her chin on his shoulder. “I knew she would.”

He grins. “You know, you’re definitely right about her being the cutest baby ever. She’s perfect.”

She really is.

He strokes his thumb against Julia’s tiny cheek. “I can’t believe she’s yours, Sylvie.”

Sylvie giggles at him. He still keeps referring to Julia as just her baby. It’s cute but a bit frustrating.

She kisses his cheek. “Matt, she’s ours. She’s as much yours as she is mine. You’re her dad.”

He exhales slowly. “I just can’t believe any of this is real. You saying yes. This baby. The fact I don’t have to think about you with that Dylan guy anymore.”

She whacks his arm. “Well, you better start believing it because all of it happened.” She holds out her hand. “I’m wearing your ring.”

“About time. I’ve had that thing in a box for way over a year.”

She still can’t believe that. If he just told her at Stella’s wedding that he saw a future with her, she wouldn’t have ended things.

Not in a million years.

Julia stirs from her nap and pops the pacifier out of her mouth. It falls to the ground.

“I’ll get it,” Sylvie says, grabbing it off the floor. “I’m going to go rinse it real quick. You okay here?”

He nods. “Yeah. I’m good.”

She hops off the couch and heads into the kitchen. Patty’s at the island, fixing up some sandwiches.

“You want my help with that?” Sylvie asks.

The older woman shakes her head. “No. No. You’re a guest. I got this.”

Sylvie wants to argue but she also respects Patty’s capability. She heads to the sink and rinses the pacifier under the water.

“You know, I recall having a conversation just the other day about how you were prepared to do this alone.”

She was. She didn’t really want to, but it was her only option. She had no idea Matt still loved her. A lot of her dreams died during the breakup with him.

She had to create new ones.

Sylvie smiles. “It’s funny. Anytime I pictured motherhood in the last few years, Matt was always apart of the picture. At first, I just imagined him by my side as a friend. He offered to do it years ago when I thought I might have to adopt my little sister.”

She was terrified that day at the idea of raising Amelia. She didn’t think she could handle it, but Matt made her feel differently. She didn’t feel alone.

“Oh gosh,” she mumbles to herself, fighting back tears. She doesn’t want to cry in front of Patty. “And then when we got together, I just couldn’t imagine not having kids with him. He’s just one of those guys that are destined to be fathers. He’s so good with kids. He has been since the day I met him.”

Patty nods, wiping her hands on her apron. “He seems like it. He’s great with her.”

She’s wanted Matt to be a dad for so long. She’s seen so many of his opportunities to do so be ripped away. It never felt fair because any child would be lucky to have him as a father. She never imagined she’d be the one to give him that but she’s beyond grateful she gets a front row seat to his fatherhood journey for the rest of her life.

Sylvie quickly wipes at her face. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m so emotional. It’s just…from the moment I helped Amber deliver her, I hoped she’d go to a good family. Now, I know that she’s going to be so loved and so protected by Matt. She’ll have the greatest dad in the world.”

Patty smiles. “I agree, dear but I also think she’ll have the greatest mom too. Don’t sell yourself short.”

She hopes she will be a great mom but with Matt, she knows he’ll be a great dad.

#brettsey #based on a prompt #sylkiddsey prompts #fic #sylkiddsey writes #can’t believe they are parents sometimes #Matt is a girl dad

[pearlzier]

js read niecesitting and it was the cutest thing ever omfg but like i was thinking maybe u could write something similar but vice versa ? like when r introduces matt to her niece and matt sees how reader is js so protective and motherly over her, he’s like oh my god i’m in love

a/n ┆.ᐟ ᰍ ︵ got a lil carried away perhaps + daily sturniolo triplets taglist plug as per usual ۫ .

you really fucking wanted to go to the party, but here you were, with your niece. it's not like you didn't want to take care of her, no, but you did want to have a social life. it was one night but.. you and matt were gonna go out and have fun. pushing these thoughts away, you watched as the little girl sat beside you at the kitchen island mixed up her little concoction of makeup from her baby makeup set.

“wait, come closer,” rue taps your hand with her chubby fingers, trying to drag you closer. you shuffle your body near her, having put down your phone before letting out a soft laugh of your own.

“okay, we have a makeup guru here,” she pats your cheek for you to shut your eyes so she can apply the eyeshadow. her big, cute eyes light up when she sees her masterpiece come to formation. a flurry of giggles slip past her lips and she claps her hands excitedly. there's a childlike, mysterious wonder filling her brown eyes, which soon turns to curiosity when she hears the sound of the door bell.

“i'll get it, auntie!” rue practically runs to the door, despite the fact that maybe the adult should go get it. you're typing on your phone, snorting out a laugh at something stupid you'd read when you hear rue make a little scared sound, and you quickly rise from where you are to check out what's happening at the door.

“rue rue, hey, who's—” your hands slide over to hold onto rue's shoulders as your brow furrows, but your expression softens almost instantly when you realise it's matt. rue clings to your leg as you hold her, and you watch as matt eyes the two of you with total confusion. you can almost laugh at his expression.

“am—am i interrupting?” his blue eyes flicker down to rue's, watching the confused expression on her face.

“auntie? who's that?” she asks, tugging on your oversized shirt. matt tilts his head, probably thinking the exact same thing as the child.

“hi, matt,” you say gently, smiling softly. guiding the child to the side gently, you tilt your head for him to come in, which confuses the little girl. “rue, meet matt, matt, meet rue,” they just stare at each other, kind of like two animals trying to defend their territory. in which their territory is you. rue notices how nice you are to matt, and matt notices how protective you are of her.

“hey, kid,” matt runs a hand through his hair, shutting the door behind him and locking it with the key on the door before he follows beside you a little tentatively.

“uhm..” she seems nervous to say high, to which you gently nudge her to do so, but not forcing her to. “hi, matt,” she says finally, clinging to your side quite a bit. “are you my auntie's friend?”

oh, so you're her aunt, matt thinks to himself. so she's your niece. that makes a lot more sense to him, and he relaxes a bit. he didn't know what he was thinking, but he's glad to know who she is to you. and why you're so protective of the little girl. it makes a little warmth grow in his stomach, which he can't quite put his finger on.

“uh, yeah, yeah,” he nods, arms crossed across his chest as you guys made it to the kitchen where you'd been sat up prior. your eyes flicker to his and an apologetic glint shimmers in them as you gesture for him to sit with you guys. “yeah, your auntie’s friend.”

“mhm,” you glance at him as he sits beside you and rue seems to be deciding something, her little fingers drumming against the table before she spoke up, tone gentle. she looks to you, and attempts to whisper, but it comes out as a quiet shout more than anything.

“do you think he wants his makeup done too, auntie?” she tries to cover her mouth with her hand, and this makes matt smile. matt smiles even more at the way you indulge rue, by doing the same in covering your mouth and whispering just as loud—

“i think so. should we ask?” the way you play with her makes his heart ache. he doesn't know what the feeling is, doesn't know whether he wants to know. but he doesn't hate it. doesn't mind it. might even like it.

“you ask, he's your friend, auntie,” rue decides, glancing at matt in a way she thinks is sneaky, but she just full on stares at him, before looking back at you.

“matt?” he pretends he was checking his phone, just to indulge the two of you in the same way you'd done for rue.

“hm? yeah?” matt leans against the counter, his expression a feigned innocence and obliviousness.

“you think, the lovely rue here, could do your makeup?” you bite back a soft smile as your gaze meets his and especially as matt pretends to not really know whether she could. he leans back, stretching, with a shrug.

“hmmmm, i dunno..”

“please! you'll look so fab,” rue promises, holding up her little pinky to which matt finds himself interlocking his with hers in a pinky promise as he sighs dramatically. a laugh slips past your lips, and soon, you find yourself watching your boyfriend get his makeup done by your niece.

matt is the perfect client, staying perfectly still for rue as she does his blush, his eyeshadow, etectera. you watch in amusement, but also fondness. “are we all done?” he asks after a moment, his eyes still shut. he probably looks ridiculous, he knows that, but he wants to see the happiness on both of your faces.

“mmmh, auntie, what d'you think?” matt opens his eyes and allows both you and rue to see the new look. you hum, letting the little girl lean against your shoulder are the two of you inspect him. the way you treat rue makes him want to cry, tears of literal joy. he bites his bottom lip, but releases it as soon as he senses rue about to protest so he doesn't mess up his beautiful red lipstick.

“he looks perfect, honey,” you smile softly, and rue claps her hands excitedly. you too have your makeup done, and rue had somehow managed to grasp a basic form of colour theory and made your makeup match. as your niece bounds off to grab a mirror so you two can see your makeup, both you and matt make eye contact and burst out laughing instantly. “you do look perfect!”

“y’look even better, sweetheart,” he crosses his arms once more and leans against the table. he admires you silently, for a moment, before he speaks up, “you're good with her.”

“huh?” your brow furrows, and matt notices, so he continues, having now reached out to hold your hand gently.

“with rue. you treat her like your own kid, y'know?” his thumb traces a heart on your palm before he lets go, feeling a little too sappy for a simple moment like this. however, you nod, leaning against the table too as your head tilts to the side a little.

“that kid's my life,” you admit as you look up at him, squeezing his hand for a moment after you'd taken it back into yours. a soft smile plays on your lips, and you continue, “i adore her.”

“yeah?” it's like matt's taking a mental note of this. as he watches you, he nods. he leans over and presses a quick kiss to your cheek, leaving a red lipstick mark on your skin. god, he loves you. you are quite literally, unequivocally, perfect. and that realisation slowly dawns upon him as he searches your gaze for a second before he glances back over at rue's bounding footsteps with a little mirror in her hands.

“okay, line up!” she gestures the two of you over, and you both shuffle over with your fingers intertwined. rue has clearly very much noticed something as she flickers her eyes over the two of you. first of all, the interlaced fingers make her brows raise. then the red kiss mark on your cheek which is suspiciously similar to the tone of red on matt's lips.

you and matt glance at eachother for a moment, stifiling your laughter before you pose with eachother in the mirror, which then gives rue an idea. “auntie, can i use your phone?”

“go ahead, babe,” you smile, pressed against matt's side. rue hops up onto the chair to grab your phone, fiddling with it before she hands you it so you can turn it on. unlocking it, you hand it back to the girl so she can take the photos she wants to of you two.

“say… cheese!” she beams, smiling happily as she snaps a few photos of the two of you. she quickly turns and shows them to you, his eyes searching yours for a moment as you're looking at the photos. a glimmer of pure adoration gleams in his eyes and he glances at rue for a moment, who's looking back at him with a look that's way too knowing for a little girl her age.

“thank you for the makeup, kid,” matt gives her a smile, to which rue beams and nods, giggling.

“anytime!” she shrugs, as if it's nothing, glancing back at you. you look back up at her and you let out a little hum under your breath when you see the time.

“i think it's someone's bed time,” rue whines, and she looks at matt as if he's gonna agree, but he shrugs his shoulders with a little laugh.

“your aunt's right, kid, c'mon,” she pouts, but she hands the phone back over as she glances dramatically at the stairs. her eyes roll and she glances back at you once more.

“can you get my bedtime story ready?”

“you got it, missy, stay right here you two,” you agree to do your niece's bidding, and you head on upstairs to sort out her pajamas and stuff, which leaves matt and rue together. a comfortable silence settles over the two of them.

“so when are you getting married?”

“i don't.. we aren't—what? who.. hey, woah, no—what colour ring would she like?”

tags ┆.ᐟ ᰍ ︵ @junnniiieee07 , @st7rnioioss , @mimi-luvzyu , @freshloveee , @onlynextdoor ۫ .

#✿ ꒰ drabbles ) ₊˚੭ #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo drabble #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo drabble #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nick sturniolo drabble #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo triplets x reader #sturniolo triplets smut #girl dad matt

[goldenloverss]

Everyone shut up my dad's r back together . Life is good 🙌🙌🙌🙌🙌🙌

#aew #matt menard #daddy magic #cool hand ang #angelo parker #roh #daniel ur dad ang has NOT abandoned you just yet . faithful days #que girl whos going to be alright meme #all elite wrestling #2point0 #2.0

[poopydroopt]

chris and matt are and will be girl dads.

#chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #reality shifting #girl dad #no other way #chris sturniolo fic #chris sturniolo x reader

[bellaxgiornata]

I like that the fandom collectively agrees that Matt is a girl dad 😭

Honestly he gives me massive girl dad energy which is my first reason for always giving him daughters in fics 🤣 But yes, it does seem the fandom just gravitates to giving him daughters! Though I've always had in mind to give him a son in another story of mine, which is why I tend to lean towards daughters everywhere else, too 🙃

#bella answers #he absolutely gives off girl dad vibes #matt would be wrapped around his daughter’s finger though #and like #how goddamn precious would that be?? 😭

[live-from-new-york-its]

this was my version of a hit on reddit so here you go

with the little information we know about season three, I can’t help but speculate what comes next

I kind of imagine a full new storyline with four new dads and four new families somehow. I saw anthony comment on another reddit post that he’s going to be taking a break from dming (also confirmed in teen talk) I wondered what it would be like if that lasts into season three.

so here are some dads I’d like to see him be (ft. some ideas for everyone else). he’s so very talented and I desperately would love to see what he does with each of these ideas or any of his own.

#dndads #anthony burch #i am most proud of girl dad for will #he’s my favorite #and i know he’d do it justice #will campos #beth may #freddie wong #matt arnold #dndads s3 #dungeons and daddies #reddit #mine

[vixenicks]

u get it u get it. the ending to murderdocks storyline felt lowkey corny as hell there was so much potential there for his and gwens dynamic like what if instead of blackmailing her she didnt know he was kingpin in the first place and thought he was helping her get her dad out of jail altruistically? slow manipulation to get close to her to convince spider woman to work for him of her own volition and then he rips the rug from under her in killing her father both isolating her and keeping her dependent on him and fulfilling his gwen stacy kin dreams, i dont think shes see him as a father figure but itd kinda be a echo and fisk dynamic “i trusted u and u killed my father i hate u and am still attached to u at the same time” kinda thing. anyway i think murderface should pee in his bed and his bed smells like cat pee forever and ever.

RIGHT RIGHT RIGHT YEAH. i think murdock would've gotten covid if gwen saw him as a father replacement, there's definitely the world's worst found family thing going on with them though and it makes me sick, she's like his emotional support teen intern

heavy on the maya and fisk vibes for sure like u said anon SOOOO MUCH COULD'VE BEEN DONE WITH HIM. WITH THEM. RAAAGGHHH the blackmail and coercion that occurred in the comics wasn't even like that good murdock had so many different opportunities to corner her into a predetermined decision and litchrally none of them were taken. Murdock already has the World's Worst Upbringing and i think alot could've been done with them forming their doomed bond to each other and him creating a false sense of security around her — specifically the way in which i view murdock's attachment to others is always something thats very consuming and unclear, his driving force is turning her into his successor and making her experience the same horrible fate he had and just UUGUGHGHH missed opportunities. also i think it would've been funny if murdock went to jail and they ended up being roomies when gwen got arrested she was fighting for her life in there imagine that fucking guy ontop of that she would've bit his arms off

#gwen stacy #matt murderdock #murderdock #asks #anon #he calls her his daughter in a panel but buddy the feeling is NAWT mutual #he calls her alot of things actually just never gwen #which i think is psychological warfare in of itself #hiii gwenny apple sunshine suprise. little soldier spider girl my meow meow heart of hearts #he definitely held back too much with her dad tbh #both his parents are dead and her dad repeatedly got in the way of his plans #regardless of how much murdock mightve wanted to take him on a candlelit date #anyways #shes not gonna kin you man

[chaoticfvckingdisaster]

I'm so obsessed with how gentle 11 is

#he loves so deeply he's just like me *cries* #I'm so touch starved I need him to be my dad #amy and clara are his girls :(( #and he's so in love with river oh my god dont talk to me #I've gone into the new year obsessed with doctor who before I can do it again #doctor who #dw #11th doctor #eleven #eleventh doctor #matt smith #chaotic's posts #I wanted to add the scene in The Name of the Doctor where he looks at clara and is immediately like 'what's wrong?' but I couldn't find it #the doctor #the 11th doctor #the eleventh doctor

[courtforshort15]

Little Monsters

Pairing: briefly mentioned Matt Murdock x AFAB Reader, but this mostly Matt and Foggy friendship fluff

Word count: 2,100

Summary: Matt and Foggy reflect on the series of shenanigans that is the journey of parenthood.

Trigger warning: none, just more fluff because I am nearly incapable of writing a sad Matt Murdock

Masterlist

Matt is so heavily engrossed in his work, earbuds shoved tightly in his ears as his computer reads off yesterday's notes, that he almost doesn't pick up on the quiet, fast-paced heart that slowly enters his office. 

Tiny footsteps pad on the carpet towards his desk, and if it weren't for his enhanced sense of hearing, he would never have heard them. As it was, the footsteps are a dead give away now that his attention has swayed from the deposition he'd been going over to the small form standing a few feet in front of him. He bites back an amused sigh. 

"Foggy," he calls out, knowing his partner's office door is open and that his voice will carry. "Come get your little monster."

"Hey!" An indignant voice objects immediately, cloth rustling as arms are crossed over a small chest. "I'm not a monster."

"Really?" Matt asks, leaning back in his chair, wide grin on his face despite the interruption. "Then why were you creeping into my office like one, if not to scare me?"

"I wasn't trying to scare you, I was trying to be sneaky."

"And why were you trying to be sneaky?"

"Dad said you always have the best candy in your desk," the seven year old says in reply, and it’s as if she had thought the answer was obvious. "He said I should steal some."

Matt snorts, he can't help it. He does have a stellar candy selection, full of rich dark chocolate that costs a pretty penny, if he's being honest. He hasn't been able to find many sweets that aren't too overwhelming for his senses over the years, so when he was introduced to the brand, he hadn't been able to resist stocking up on it. 

He knows you constantly check his stash of chocolate whenever you visit the office, always making sure he has enough for him to snack on when he's in the mood for the treat. Everytime he opens the drawer, he smells you mixed in with the chocolate, and he can taste it on his tongue when he takes a bite. It always leaves him hungry for you. He's ended his work day early more than once because of the scent alone, eager to go home and feel you wrapped around him.

Today, however, it seems his secret collection has been exposed to the local candy thief, though Matt isn't disappointed or upset in the slightest.

"You're not supposed to ruin my master plan, Lauren," Foggy says, stepping into Matt's office, reaching out and rustling her hair. Lauren pushes her dad’s hand away with what Matt assumes is a scowl. "I told you to wait until he left for lunch."

"But Dad," she whines, and Matt hears her set her hands on her hips, the child's sass completely unparalleled. She goes in for the overkill and stomps her foot on the ground, the echo of it reverberating in his ear. "I wanted some now."

Matt laughs, finally deciding to take his headphones out and placing them on his desk, full attention on the people crowding his space. There’s no hope in continuing work for the next few minutes, anyway. "You could always ask for some."

"But that's boring."

Matt's eyebrows raise in amusement, head tilting in his law partner's direction. "Asking politely is boring? Are you even trying to teach your kids some manners, Foggy?"

"Not at all," Foggy says cheerfully, lifting his cup of coffee to take a quick sip. "I enjoy having little heathens around my home. Makes things interesting."

"I'm not a heathen, Dad," Lauren objects, and Matt can almost picture the way she tilts her pointed chin up in defiance. Her hair slides across her shoulder at the motion. "Mom says I'm precious."

Foggy's loud bark of laughter echoes throughout the office, rivaled only by the laugh Matt lets out to match it. It’s not exactly the word Marci tends to use when they all meet up for happy hour occasionally, eager for time around actual adults who don’t throw temper tantrums at the slightest inconvenience. Marci loves her children, absolutely dotes on them, but she’s convinced they’re going to send her to an early grave. "That's what all mothers tell their children."

Matt can practically feel the way Lauren rolls her eyes, and he bites back another laugh. "But Mom actually means it with me."

"Mom says that about Noelle, too," Foggy tells her, and Lauren must make a face because Foggy laughs again. She clenches her fists at her sides as she stares up at her dad.

Mat observes the entire interaction with a shit-eating grin, enjoying the way his friend is slowing going nuts because of a seven year-old. He reaches into his drawer to grab a candy bar, thoroughly enjoying the show.

"But Noelle is a brat."

"I could say the same about you."

"Hey!" Lauren says in offense. "I’m gonna tell Mom that I keep getting called names.”

“Go ahead. It’s your word against mine,” he taunts, letting out a huff of laughter when Lauren’s jaw drops in indignation. But before Lauren can reply, Foggy gives Lauren a light shove, encouraging her to walk out of Matt's office and into the empty lobby. "Come on kiddo, Matt's got some things to care of today. We’ve got a big case in two days."

"But Dad," Lauren whines again, figuratively digging her heels in the sand. She pushes her dad’s hand away with a loud smack. "The whole point of bring your child to work day is for me to see what you guys do every day."

Foggy considers his daughter for a moment. “I'll buy you ice cream if you give us at least one hour of uninterrupted work time," he decides to bargain, crossing his arms over his chest.

Ah, bribery. 

Lauren tilts her head in contemplation. "I want at least three scoops."

"Two." 

She pauses for a moment, no doubt sorting through her options. "Two and one of Uncle Matt's candy bars," she says, copying her dad's body language and crossing her arms over her chest.

Matt throws back his head in a laugh. "You drive a hard bargain, counselor. But we accept your terms." He re-opens the drawer that's next to his knee, reaching in for one of the candy bars and then tossing it in Lauren's general direction.  He knows she's got excellent hand-eye coordination for a seven year old, so he's not surprised when she catches it easily. 

Lauren is digging into the candy bar before he's even closed his drawer, peeling back the wrapper excitedly.

"Wait a minute, Lauren. What are you supposed to say?" Foggy asks, reaching out to grab the tiny hand that is already raising the chocolate to her mouth. 

"Thanks, Uncle Matt," she says quickly, shoving the bar in her mouth once Foggy lets go. Without a word, she leaves his office, leaving Matt and his partner behind.

Matt can practically feel the look of exasperation that Foggy’s sending his way. "When did she turn into Marci's mini-me?"

Matt shrugs, smile wide and downright joyous at the interaction, despite his interrupted work time. What’s five minutes when you get to listen as your best friend argues with a child a quarter of his size? "You tell me. You're the one who is surrounded by all girls at home. Seems to me Marci enjoys having two daughters to help her gang up on you."

Foggy knocks his head backwards against the office door with a groan. Matt hears the coffee in his mug slide up and down the ceramic at the movement, very nearly spilling over the side. "I swear she's training them that way very intentionally."

"Wouldn't surprise me."

Foggy sighs loudly. "The attitude at home is insane," he complains, reaching up to rub at his tired eyes, no doubt due to the seven and five year-olds at home who run Foggy and Marci all over town with dance classes and baseball practice. He's told Matt on several occasions that he's lucky if he gets more than a few hours of sleep, the comment always causing Matt to smirk because he's been living off of that amount of sleep for years. "I swear, I can't get a word in without some sort of sassy back-talk that makes me want to pull my hair out."

"Can't relate, Foggy," Matt says with another laugh, completely unsympathetic to his friend's plight. He hears Foggy stand up straight, no longer leaning against the door. "Sounds tough."

"Just wait until Jackson starts walking and talking back," Foggy says, finger pointing at him in something akin to an accusation. "He's going to run you ragged."

Matt thinks of his son with a fond smile, briefly remembering the way he had kissed the soft skin of his forehead goodbye hours ago before heading to work, the infant still in your arms as you fed him. 

"You're assuming that he doesn't already run me ragged."

"Your poor wife," Foggy says with a mock sigh. He takes another long sip of his coffee, gulping down the luke-warm substance quickly. "She already has to deal with one menace in the household. I can already picture Jackson running and leaping off of shit he's not supposed to."

"She's already threatened to turn me into the police if I teach him anything before he turns fifteen."

Foggy snorts. "She wasn't joking, was she?"

"Nope."

"As tough as the girls are, I don't envy you having a son that's going to be just like you," Foggy says with a laugh, finally turning to leave Matt's office, though he doesn’t step out just yet. "Though maybe it'll be karma for all the times you've scared the shit out of me, you stubborn asshole."

"I have the added benefit of being able to tell where he is for the most part, or know when he's lying," Matt says with a shrug of his shoulders. "That kid won't get away with shit."

"Using your powers for evil, I see."

"It's not evil if it keeps him safe," Matt protests lightly. He stands up suddenly, reaching for a file he had left on the corner of his desk. "Don't be jealous, Foggy. You have your gifts and I have mine."

"And what gifts do I have, exactly?"

Matt considers his friend for a second before he answers nonchalantly. "You are the most convincing speaker I've ever met. You can get up and talk someone's ear off with no prep time, and I'm sure it comes in handy when you're laying down the law at home" he says, fiddling with the file, fingers running lightly over the pages within to find the one he needs. He tilts his head towards Foggy, lips twisted into a smirk. "I'm guessing that's how you convinced Marci to marry you. You talked her into it until she was convinced it was her idea."

Foggy makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat. "Are you saying I coerced my wife into marrying me?"

"I'm saying you make people listen, Foggy," Matt tells him simply, still smirking at his friend’s reaction. "People either say yes because they agree, or because they're hoping it'll shut you up."

Foggy's pen comes flying at him, having no doubt been rapidly pulled from his chest pocket, and Matt leans out of the way just in time to avoid getting hit in the face. "You're an asshole."

Matt snickers. "I just call it like I see it, Fog."

"You don't see anything," Foggy points out. "You're just a dick. Can your senses detect the truth in that statement?"

"You're assuming that this isn't something I've heard before," Matt says with another laugh. "From you, no less. It's lost its novelty."

"I hope Jackson's first words are fuck you, dad."

"Your kindness is astounding."

"So is your lack of empathy an-–"

"Dad?" Lauren suddenly interrupts from lobby couch that's situated in the lobby, just outside of Foggy's office. "What does fuck you mean?"

The office fills with the sound of Foggy choking on his own goddamm spit.

"Shit," Foggy finally manages to hiss out, wiping saliva of his chin, and Matt can feel the heat of the glare he's aiming his way. "This is your fault! I ca--stop laughing!"

Matt can't help the way his mouth has parted with the sound of boyish giggles that are tearing their way from his throat. He has to bend over and place his hand on his desk so that he doesn't fall to the ground.

"How has she never heard that word before?" Matt manages to choke out, breathless with laughter. "She has Marci as a mother."

Foggy glowers at him. "Shut up, Matt."

"I'm just saying--"

"Shut. Up."

"I asked a question, Dad," Lauren prompts, her tone annoyed. "What does fu–"

"It means you get two more extra scoops of ice cream if you don't tell your mother where you heard that word," Foggy cuts her off hurriedly. He gives Matt a quick flash of his middle finger before turning on his heel and leaving his office. 

"Four scoops."

"Three."

"Three and I get to play on your phone for the rest of the day."

"Deal." Foggy hands Lauren his phone without another word, giving in without question if only to avoid Marci's wrath, and she immediately opens up an app to play on, the sounds of some game floating through the office of Nelson, Murdock & Page. 

Matt hasn't yet regained his composure when Foggy pauses at his own office door across the lobby. "You're dead to me, Murdock," he whispers heatedly, knowing Matt can hear him easily. "Dead."

He’s still laughing when he tells you the story hours later, hanging on to the counter for support while tears prick at the corner of his eyes, barely focused enough to keep his hand off the stove he’s using to make dinner. You giggle along with him, Jackson on your hip, and Matt decides he doesn’t care much what his son’s first words are, as long as he’s there to hear them.

#daredevil #matt murdock #human disaster matt murdock #marvel #foggy nelson #matt murdock fluff #daredevil fluff #matt murdock x you #foggy nelson would definitely be a girl dad

[little-red-devil]

MATTY BOY IS GONNA BE A GIRL DAD MY HEART!!!❤️❤️❤️

#matt turner #usmnt #girl dad #my boys ❤️🥹 #I can’t wait for this time next year when all tho boys are gonna be babysitting

[dreamings-free]

.

#a little note to self 1DCU recap… #first up baby news: #joni is a grandpa aww #he posted about it last week #04.04.23 #with some very cute pics #also matt v became a dad for the 3rd time in march #a little brother to his two girls #01.03.23 #helene has an album out on may 12th #lt team #and for the stunt edition: #E parted ways with river talent mgmt #she was removed from their website yesterday #09.04.23 #$ #. #oh and forgot to add: #a video of daisy on tikt*k live saying L doesn’t have a gf finally surfaced #rip l*ufie lol

[aliengirl]

welcome, little baby <3 everyone meet Layla Elle Golden-Howell

#golden #golden gen 1 #the sims 4 #sims 4 #sims 4 screenshots #sims #sims 4 gameplay #melody golden #matthew howell #layla elle golden-howell #i chose lily rose cuz was pretty #then louise may cuz lou #*matts dad aka her grandpa #and it would be just CURSED to not name the third with a L name #if it was a boy i had the perfect name #but i guess the girl genes are stronger

[brettsey-two-tts]

I'm still ugly crying over the finale and then came across this video in insta that I desperately need a Brettsey fic written of (if you're so inclined)

https://www.instagram.com/reel/CdpVMrlIVs1/?igshid=YmMyMTA2M2Y=

No worries if you don't want to 💜

Sylvie and Matt loved their daughter fiercely. The moment she was born, they didn’t hesitate to share her with their beloved firehouse family. Everyone cooed and awed at the miniature version of the parents because with Sylvie’s blonde hair and Matt’s blue eyes it really wasn’t hard to tell.

Sylvie transitioned from maternity leave to paternity leave, wanting to be with their daughter as much as humanly possible before she was forced to go back to work. Their daughter, Olivia, wasn’t fussy and was normally very quiet, which was something they did not expect at all. During the late stages of Sylvie’s pregnancy, she and Matt dreaded the nights when they would be jolted awake by sharp cries but seldomly did it happen. After feeding, Matt would carry her against his shoulder and she’d fall asleep almost instantly. Sylvie spent every single second doting her husband from afar as he carefully lowered their daughter into her crib; it was when she noticed his tendency to linger at the peaceful sight of his sleeping daughter. (When she asked what he was thinking about, he told her, ‘Everything’. He was basking in the wholeness of his family and all the unconditional love that surrounded them. He felt so very lucky.)

On the days that Matt had to go to work, he spent at least ten minutes saying goodbye to his wife and his daughter. Their daughter would reach out to him, expecting him to hold her and carry her around the house, but since he had to leave for work soon, he couldn’t. He would eventually give in and carry her for a minute or two, but the moment he had to give her back to Sylvie, it felt like his heart was crumbling. As he drove off in his truck, he’d look in the rear view mirror and see Sylvie and Olivia waving goodbye at him. Knowing how dangerous his job was, he’d whisper his promise to return to them.

When Matt returned the next day, he would spend all morning with his daughter, telling her how much he missed her and how much he loved her. One day, after putting Olivia down for her afternoon nap, he confessed to Sylvie how much he missed them and how weird it was being at the firehouse while they were at home. She tried to do her best to console and reassure her husband, but she could practically see his heart break in two, so she did her best to cheer him up during his long shifts by sending him pictures of her and Olivia throughout the day.

.

.

.

When Olivia turned one year old, Stella and Violet thought it was a cute idea to see what type of firefighter she would want to be when she grew up. They put three objects on the table: a children’s firefighter helmet, a stethoscope, and a navy blue kids hat that said ‘Squad 3’. Even though it was just for fun, Matt and Sylvie vowed to support their daughter in whatever she wanted to do in the future. Before they brought Olivia to the table, their daughter’s eyes were already set on one particular object. As they brought her closer, Matt watched in awe as Olivia immediately reached for the small firefighter’s helmet. His heart absolutely soared at the sight of his daughter looking so happy in her new shiny red helmet, and when her sparkling blue eyes met his thereafter and the words ‘Dada’ excitedly left her lips, he teared up. It wasn’t until Sylvie cooed at how cute she looked and asked, “You want to be a firefighter like Daddy?”, did tears roll down his cheeks.

On a particular day, one that Sylvie used furlough for to give Cindy Herrmann a day off of having to watch their daughter, Matt spent his usual ten minutes saying goodbye. He kissed Olivia on the head, ruffled her hair a bit, and basked in her tiny giggles, and then he kissed Sylvie softly on the lips for a little longer than usual.

His gaze lingered on his wife and soon, a loving smile appeared. “I love you,” he said softly. There was a twinkle in his eye as his head lolled a bit to the side, almost silently hinting at another kiss. He loved Sylvie so much; while they were cuddled under the sheets and awaiting slumber, he’d often tell her how much he loved her and how thankful he was to have someone like her as his wife and as his daughter’s mother. His dream of having a family came true and he never failed to show Sylvie how lucky he felt.

Sylvie adoringly beamed at her husband. “I love you, too, Matt.” Their lips met a few more times before they reminded themselves of their tiny human between them.

“Wuw you, Dada!” Olivia squeaked with a wet smile.

Matt and Sylvie’s ears perked and then their eyes widened in shock. Up until then, Olivia had only said ‘Mama’ and ‘Dada’ and sometimes ‘Yeryer’ (her stuffed tiger that she often carried around).

“Did she just…?” Matt asked in awe.

Sylvie’s grin widened at the realization. “She did!” She smoothed out her daughter’s blonde hair and gave her cheek a kiss. “Can you say it again, Olivia?” Both of them held their breath as they watched closely in anticipation.

A moment passed before Olivia looked between her parents and happily repeated, ‘Wuw you!’.

She didn’t know what the words meant and almost looked confused why her parents were excitedly smothering her with hugs and kisses. Sylvie bounced their daughter in her arms as they celebrated her new words and when she returned her gaze to Matt, she felt her heart stop. Matt was smiling warmly at their daughter as love and affection seemed to visibly pour out of his chest. His heart felt like it was going to burst out of his chest, tears welled in his eyes, and he gasped a couple of breaths. He looked so incredibly happy.

He held his emotions behind pressed lips and almost choked out, “I don’t know if I can leave for work, Sylvie.”

Sylvie chuckled softly and moved closer to her husband so they could sandwich their daughter between them. Matt wrapped his arms around the both of them and kissed Olivia’s head.

“We’ll be here when you get back,” she reassured him.

Matt reluctantly left, but not without smothering his daughter in wet and sloppy kisses that he knew would make her giggle.

That adorably infectious bubbly giggling sound replayed in his head many times during his shift and it made him miss them that much more. Stella picked up on her Captain’s small pouts and frowns, and when she asked him if everything was okay, he practically gushed about Olivia’s new words. He confessed that he felt horrible for leaving afterward and continued to let out lengthy sighs. It wasn’t the first time she had seen Matt look so sad; his depressed mood was practically expected after entering fatherhood. So, she tried to think of a way to cheer him up, but truth be told, there was only one thing, or rather two things, that could cheer him up. Stella confided in Violet about her plan and together, the two called in a favor.

Later that same day, Truck and Ambo were called out to a small fire. What started out as a small grease pan fire turned into a full-blown kitchen fire. Thankfully, all that was needed was a good hosing from a fire extinguisher and some assessment from a couple of paramedics.

With the situation in the kitchen very much under control, Matt walked out of the house to see if Violet and the floater needed any extra help.

“We’re good over here,” Violet told him as they were wrapping up one of the victims.

Matt nodded in acknowledgment and turned around to talk to Stella about the situation in the kitchen.

“Any clean-up needed?” Matt curiously asked.

Stella shook her head. “The fire pretty much charred the walls and melted most of the surrounding appliances but the ceiling looked decent. They should definitely think about remodeling.”

Matt looked like he was about to smirk at her comment until something out of the corner of his eyes caught his attention. He did a double-take at the familiar red firefighter’s helmet and blonde hair. His heart fluttered and a beaming grin immediately spread across his face as he watched his daughter run up to him in sneakers, a lilac skirt, and a little white CFD shirt (Sylvie tried to mimic his white Captain polo), all while wearing her red firefighter’s helmet on her head.

His heart skipped and soared at the image of his daughter practically dressed like him (sans turnout gear). He looked so incredibly happy as he bent down to pick her up. “Hi, Sweetpea. What are you doing here? Did you already learn how to drive?” He turned to his wife that was cautiously trailing behind their daughter to make sure she didn’t fall and flashed a very surprised look. “Hi, Honey,” he greeted her with a grin that could only get bigger and bigger. “What are you guys doing here?”

Sylvie, dressed in a pair of faded denim jeans, a white blouse, and tennis shoes, mimicked her husband’s elated smile. “Stella and Violet said you were missing your family a lot, so they texted me when you guys got called out. They figured you could use a pick-me-up during your long shift.”

Matt’s eyebrows raised at the mention and gave Stella a curious look. Stella shrugged nonchalantly, as if the whole thing was no big deal, and replied, “We can’t have our Captain lose his morale, now can we?” She was honestly just happy to see her Captain smile again.

Sylvie looked on proudly as she encouragingly and gently asked their daughter, “Do you remember what we practice today, Olivia? Can you tell Daddy?”

While the red firefighter’s hat looked a little too big for Olivia’s head, she nonetheless looked up at her dad, who was wearing his own helmet, and said in a soft murmur, “Wuw you, Dada”. Matt gasped in awe; words nearly clogged in his throat as he hugged Olivia to his chest, despite his turnout gear, and replied, “I love you, too, Sweetpea.”

Stella watched Sylvie move closer to Matt as they privately basked in the overwhelming cuteness that was their daughter. She then offered to take a picture of the family and was soon handed Sylvie’s phone. If Stella could note one thing about her observation of Matt Casey and his daughter, it was that Olivia Casey had her dad completely and utterly wrapped around her little finger.

#brettsey #matt casey #sylvie brett #brettsey-drabbles #brettsey-prompts #my tear ducts are literally dry from this #this whole fic had me crying #matt casey is such a girl dad you cant change my mind #also sorry to anon for changing a few things based off the video #excuse me while i cry forever at the thought of sylvie and matt having kids

[brooklynislandgirl]

Do you know me? [Coulson]

In All My Reverie || -

What’s their full name?: 

“Josiah.” Skye wrinkles her nose. “Really?” Beth shrugs and holds up the results of the other woman’s physical. “Is right dere, top of his file.” ~*~ “Jacinto.” Ward raises a brow. “What?” “On a chilly April aftahnoon in Eighteen-T’irty Six, a strip of coastal prairie rang wi’ da boom of cannon, crack of musket fiah, an’ shouts of “Remembah da Alamo!” an’ “Remembah Goliad!”. Despite bein’ outmanned, General Sam Houston’s army of settlers, Tejanos, an’ foreign volunteers decisively defeat General Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna’s forces, an’ won Texas’ independence. T’ commemorate it, Mistah Coulson senior named him aftah-” He leaves before she can finish, so Beth shrugs and goes back to knitting. ~*~ “Jamiroquai. Like da band.” May kicks her out of the cockpit, and she is grateful. She escapes back to the lab. Only to run into Fitz-Simmons. Who half talk, half telepathically communicate over their pet project. They ask where she’s been. She explains, and sure enough the question begins to live rent free in their heads, on their faces. So of course they ask her. She smiles blandly. “Javert. Named aftah main antagonist from Les Miserables.”

~*~ Beth stares at a spot just above his shoulder and to the left, her hands behind her as she stands at parade rest. Exactly as she would if addressing the Admiral. The biggest difference is that Coulson’s face isn’t lemon-sour, but rather simply curious. The question as to why she keeps telling different people what the J stands for in Philip J Coulson, each increasingly worse, lingers between them. When she answers, it’s barely audible. “Because dey aks me, sir. Didn’ wanna seem rude or dismissive. An’ hones’ly, no one seems to know, but I assume it’s actually Julian or Julius, aftah ya maddah. But it’s not my right f’ tell, or anyone else’s f’ demand. I’m sorry. It won’ happen again.”

When’s their birthday?: She doesn’t know the time, exactly. Nor does she try to ask him because she knows he’ll see it as unimportant. But she sits on her bunk, several books open. A multifunctional geometric ruler near her knee along with several different coloured pens, a large drawing pad already marked in pencil as she does her research. Without consulting charts, 8 July 1964 makes him a Cancerian, like her. There’s so much water in Phil’s chart, and it explains so much about him. Though she would argue, even with herself, that a person can be summed up in a mathematical sequence. He’s more than cryptic ciphers and star charts, surely. More than he’d even realise if the question of his identity were posed to him. She picks up her green pen and steadies the ruler against the page.

Where were they born?:

Manitowoc, Wisconsin is hell. Oh it tries to fool her, it really does, sitting in the open mouth of the river of the same name, right there on the edge of Lake Michigan. Depending on the inflection of the Ojibwe word, it is named ‘dwelling of the great spirit’, ‘spirit spawns’, ‘spirit woods’ or ‘spirit lands’. The Menominee people ceded the land in a treaty after a small eternity of negotiation on what to do with the tribes removed from New York, and rehomed ~as if they were pets or burdens~ to Wisconsin. Two years before Coulson was born, a twenty pound piece of Sputnik 4 landed on North 8th Street. It is home of the state’s Maritime Museum, and has a great amount of history attached to it, not all of it pleasant. Just ask Gwendolyn Brooks.

But right now, Beth is absolutely convinced that it is the origin point of Fimbulwinter. The icy teeth of the wind rip right through her, going so far as to turn even Pele’s blood in her veins to slush. Her joints ache, her head hurts. She is never going to see the sun again. This is how she dies, without a rainbow bridge or a last glimpse of Kawela bay and her Mother’s warm waves welcoming her as they race toward the Pipeline. “Fire’s roaring,” Phil says, pushing a cup of cocoa ~whipped cream and cinnamon topped~ into her shivering mitten-covered hands. “Are you sure you won’t come in? Or do you intend to make another snow-angel?”

What’s their favourite colour?:

Sometimes, Phil’s suits are black. Exactly like the movies and the rampant conspiracy theories say it should be. When he does put that one on, he occasionally pairs it with a periwinkle shirt and the subtle colour looks sharp on him. Other times he’ll wear dark navy or slate grey. Besides his trademark sunglasses though, the thing that she notices most is that he always wears a touch of blue; shirt, tie, jacket…ambient lighting. It tends to bring out his eyes, though she doesn’t think that’s why he loves the colour. Rather it’s the meaning that seems to nurture something in his soul. Blue is sky and it is sea. That fact isn’t lost on her. It is associated with open spaces, freedom, inspiration, and sensitivity. It spans depth, trust, loyalty, sincerity, wisdom, confidence, stability. It is the colour of faith and intelligence.

It can represent rest and there’s studies that show that it causes the body to produce chemicals that are linked to calm, and releases feelings of tranquillity. Each and every one of these is a trait he embodies or fosters in others. But none of this answers the question he asks her. “This one,” she says, and runs her fingers over the tie he holds up in his left hand, favouring the deep cobalt stripes over the diamond-patterned maroon in his right. She takes it from his grasp, and slides it around the back of his neck, adjusting it so that she can start to tie it. “Masculine. Subtle. Definitely power move.”

What’s their favourite perfume/cologne?:

The minute his door opens, Beth’s head jerks upwards, her nostrils flaring. Cucumber, hints of water lotus. Szechuan pepper, cedar. Sandalwood and musk. It reminds her of the ocean and deep woods. She lets it trickle down into her senses. The scent is light, doubly so because it’s used so sparingly. Embraces a casual effortlessness, distinctive but not in the least attention-grabbing. The ghost of it won’t haunt a room.

“CK Eternity Aqua,” she murmurs, naming the scent. “Should we not wait up for you, sir?” Beth doesn’t even register the tone of her own voice, or the hint of envy that creeps into the back of it.

Do they like baths or showers best?: I’m going to take a shower, then we’ll debrief. She nods as does the rest of the team. If she’s being honest, it’s probably for the best. Once viscera begins to dry out it also tends to smell, tends to crust and it’s just gross. And she knows that Phil works on his own schedule. Showers work better for him, showers also work better for the team. She forgets what they call this particular bunker but there’s plenty of room for everyone in the locker room style bathrooms.

But she still intends to eventually get him in a bath. Soaking overused muscles. Letting essential oils strip away the layers of ache and grit. She spends the whole fifteen minutes she is scrubbing down planning it.

How do they sleep? Do they snore?:

She never understood how he could sleep on his back. Sure, the pillow cradles his neck. With his eyes closed, Phil seems to be at peace, not even breathing hard. Just deep. Soundless. His chest rises and falls and Beth can’t help but blush a little when she notices he isn’t wearing a shirt. It doesn’t stop her from climbing onto the bed and curling up beside him. Her arm comes to rest across his hips. Her head nestles on his chest, where she can hear his heartbeat change from rest to wakefulness. But he doesn’t say anything. She imagines if she looks up she’ll see that Mona Lisa look, a little confusion etched around his brows. But what Phil Coulson doesn’t do is question her. Maybe because he knows her file like the back of his hand. Maybe because he knows she’d ventured into the lion’s den and barely made it out with hide intact, the Admiral’s jaws all but clenching around her. Regardless, he only shifts a little; one hand lifts the blanket when his fingers graze the cold of her skin before the hand slides up her arm to cup the back of her head. There’s nothing sensual about any of this, not in the way some people would look to take it. He’s offering her shelter. He’s offering her enough safety to let her own eyes close. Neither of them really sleep.

What’s their favourite flower? If they have one which one?:

The gunshot splits the air. They have guns, the team only has icers and she can’t do a thing with that. She doesn’t waste microseconds wishing she had a gift involving the art of seasons…Time. It isn’t a spell, or countermagick, so much as it’s a wild and desperate Hail Mary call, and she flings her mana like water or glitter. Reality takes hold of it and shapes it. Offers a new and different trajectory. What would have caught Coulson in the chest is redirected. But all things come with a price and the impact knocks her back. Pain splinters outward from her lung and she can feel herself trying to breathe her own vital fluids but chokes on them instead. A minute, an hour, an eternity later his hands come to put pressure on the wound. “I’ve got you,” he says. She watches his lips move, but she can’t hear what he’s saying. Her lashes flutter. “Agent Riley!” The darkness rises up like a plunging wave, spawned from offshore winds. They have high energy and travel swiftly, making them dangerous to unsuspecting surfers. “Beth. What’s…what’s my favourite flower?” Whether it’s the wound or something deeply intrinsic to her subconscious, Beth closes her eyes, and blames the tears on not being ready to let go. “Daisy.” Do they drive? If so how’s their drivers licence picture?:

He never asks her why. Neither does she volunteer. She doesn’t fight him pushing the wheelchair out of the sliding glass doors of the hospital entrance, it’s regulation and she doesn’t have the energy to baulk. She knows he looked up the statistics. She knows he wants to ask why she didn’t allow him to get her back to Jemma to be treated, or SHIELD medical. What wasn’t a surprise was that she’d chosen Columbia. And why when she woke she was critically disappointed. All the unspoken things crowd in around them as he makes her sit in the passenger’s seat. No one drives Lola but Phil. Not even Beth.

“Do you even have one drivah licence?” she finally glances at him, slow when she turns, gingerly readjusting the seat belt. He fishes out his wallet and hands it to her. The Coulson in the picture is almost eight years younger. The only difference she can really see is slightly less laugh lines, and slightly more, darker hair. Phil has always been handsome, it seems, in an entirely average way. A warm and friendly mien, an immeasurably wide aura of calm. Of patience. Of basic human kindness that cannot be corrupted.

“So. How’re you doing?” She hands it back. “Not gonna lie, could murder a bacon cheeseburger righ’ now.” A brow raises at the comment. “Kinda low on iron.” “I know just the place.” Coulson pulls smoothly into traffic.

Do they like reading? If so guess how many books they have?:

Her fingertips glance across the spines of the small collections of books on his shelves; westerns, biographies, histories weighed down by the dust of the dry academic language. They might as well be fantasies, of old myths for as familiar as they are to her. But then she stops. Her lips pull tight as she pulls the volume and traces the bright red title on the blue background. The tightness becomes a full sneer over the misspelling. Lost Kingdom: Hawaii’s Last queen, the Sugar Kings, and America’s First Imperial Adventure by Julia Flynn Siler. Beth opens the flap, reads aloud the summary; “Only one American state was formerly a sovereign monarchy. In this compelling narrative, the award-winning journalist Julia flynn Siler chronicles how this Pacific kingdom, creation of a proud Polynesian people, was encountered, annexed and absorbed. Around two hundred A.D., intrepid Polynesians paddled thousands of miles across the Pacific and arrived at an undisturbed archipelago. For centuries, their descendants lived with almost no contact from the Western world but in Seventeen-Seventy Eight, their profound isolation was shattered with the arrival of Captain Cook. Deftly weaving together a memorable cast of character-” The book slams shut with very little regard for its safety. Sneer becomes vitriolic rage burning in her eyes, choking her throat. “You’re upset,” his voice is mild. Beth turns, imperiously lifting her chin despite being nearly a foot shorter, and far less intimidating that he could ever be. Here it is. A descendant of those ancient kings and queens, royal blood from both sides of the family tree, standing ready to defend her homeland. This might be the one time the Admiral could show any pride. “Of da hundreds of books you own, dis? Dis is da one you bring wi’ you?” “I thought it was a good place to start-” “Betrayin’ da Kanaka Maoli? Relishing in da illegal occupation of our lands, deposin’ our Ali’i Lili’uokalani?-” “-To understand the mistakes of the past, so that we don’t continue to make them in the future.” His tone is low, as it is tight. She bears her teeth. It isn’t a smile. Phil closes the distance between them, gingerly laying his hands atop hers before gently prying the book out of her grasp, returning it to its place on his shelf. “May I suggest something else to take to bed with you?” She leaves him standing there as she flees his space, cheeks impossibly red. It took almost a precise two weeks and a movie with the younger agents for him to understand what exactly had happened.

Public or state school?: “So, d’ you t’ink dere’s a difference between governmen’ school like you went to, as opposed to a private one?” The question posed comes on the heels of her trying to explain how important one’s high school alma mater was to the Hawai’ian identity. By government, she meant public school where as private meant a religious institution, a military or prep academy, charter, or otherwise funded by the often very rich parents that patronised them. It might not be a surprise that she could name his schools, ~Jackson Elementary, Washington Middle, Lincoln High School~ even if everyone, including himself, is reasonably sure she doesn’t much know the difference between Wisconsin and Minnesota. “Of course there is,” he begins carefully. “Allocated and logistical resources for one, the varying arts and culture that can be offered based on funding by a state rubric that makes no fiscal sense. I’m pretty willing to bet that aside from sadistic nuns, you would have been more comfortable at an integrated Kamehameha school than you did at Sacred Heart.” She raises a brow and he has to confess. “It’s because everyone has at least one Catholic school called Sacred Heart.”

Did they attend university? If so which one and what is their degree?:

As the night progresses, they talk of opportunities and the importance of providing safe avenues for education, they talk fond memories, embarrassing incidents, and Phil maybe laughs more than he has in a while. Beth becomes highly animated when she’s passionate about things, and she makes him remember things he hasn’t thought about in decades. She seems most embarrassed about receiving early admission to university, and was offered a scholarship that would have provided for everything she could need to succeed, and she turned that down. Said someone else benefited from her family’s ability to pay for pre-med and medical school a hundred times over without feeling it. But then her tone softens. “D’you t’ink, Uncle, dat when you retire….ah…if.... If you retire, ya might go back to school? Mebbe take up ya teaching degree? I know Director Fury poached you straight out of high school, an’ I no can help but feel dat might be one of ya regrets.”

Who’s the chef and who’s the taster?:

There is something indescribably sensual the way she breathes and then exhales that into a moan, all while hovering by his side. Her kitchen is a wreck and he knows it, but she did offer to do the clean up. It’s also taken him hours to do all the work; creating the roux, scalding the milk so it’s not scorched, then slowly stirring in the various cheeses. Then there was boiling the noodles while the dough rested and rose, then got punched down to rest again. It’s an old recipe from his childhood, but it seemed like the perfect thing to make for his vegetarian leaning shark; macaroni and cheese pizza. Now it’s baking in her oven, and he’s putting the final touches on the salad that is going with it, a token nod to health concerns. Like a cat, Beth seems content to prowl around him, stopping on occasion to put a hand on his exposed forearms, and looking up at him with a beatific look. He plucks a halved cherry tomato from her wooden bowl, and offers it to her. Then Beth becomes a goblin. She doesn’t take it from him with his fingers, instead carefully putting her teeth close to his skin, close enough that her lips form around his fingertips. Weaker men have toppled empires for less. Phil only smiles. “Table set yet? Can’t let you eat out of the bowl.”

Do they like wine? If so Róse, red or white? Beer? Whiskey?: “It is, yes.” Full words, a rarity. And like a ghost, she vanishes from view. When she appears again, she’s just on the edge of his periphery. A splash of colour from her floor length, gauzy skirt, but sleek and tawny from the arms up in a grey camisole. The bandage that peeks out might bring a frown to his face. It’s been a while now and the wound isn’t healing like he knows it should. He almost wants to ask her why she doesn’t use her gifts on it but somehow he knows her answer would be similar were she to ask why doesn’t she let him give him his old arm back. Some things need to be lived through, survived. Or maybe the enemy has finally found something that prevents even her accelerated healing to kick in, and that worries him. Almost as if she can follow his train of thoughts, she smiles. This time the expression is a little dreamy at the edges, lacking the sharp physically longing look from moments ago. She holds up a glass of wine in one hand ~hers~ and in the other… Phil blinks. “Spotted Cow!” A farmhouse ale that can only be found in his home state because it’s not sold anywhere else. It’s never easy to catch him off guard but she’s managed that. “Where did you even--” She giggles. “Magic.”

Any favourite items of clothes?: She sits on the end of the bed, the black lace dress fitting her like a second skin, the scalloped edges flirting with her knees. Her hair is half up and half down, she’s wearing tasteful diamond solitaire earrings. She hates having to leave the safety of the Retreat but rebuilding SHIELD requires funding from indirect sources, and one of her best job skills is the ability to schmooze. She looks up when Phil enters the room. For once his tailored dress shirt is open at the collar, though the tie still hangs down his chest. She makes an appreciative murmur. It will never cease to amaze her that he actually likes wearing ties and suits, and that while they are technically a uniform, they look incredible on him. She rises and meets him halfway where his hand comes up to cup her cheek, his fingertips losing themselves in her hair. “You’re going to do fine,” he tells her. He means it as an assurance. She’s taking it as a direct order. Her hands come up and she wraps the loose ends of the tie around her wrists, holding them tightly in her fists. Her eyes half close and she takes a deep breath for calm, thinking if she can just envelope herself with him, that she can do anything asked. “Can I take dis wi’ me?” She gives the tie a tug. “Only if you promise you’ll give it back. I know you still have my one denim shirt, Agent Riley.” She can’t help but grin. “Yes, sir.”

Anything you like of theirs that makes you smile when they wear it?:

“What….is… dat?!” “It’s a bathrobe.” “No, dat is a crime of nature is what dat is. Where did you even ge’it?” “This little gift shop in Santa Fe, on my way to Puente Antiguo. I think it’s rugged.” “I t’ink it’s…jus’...wow. “You want I should take it off-” Oh the colour in her face. Especially as he unbelts the robe and his chest beneath is bare.

What do they wear on holiday?:

“Absolutely not.” “What?” “Ya not wearin’ suit an’ tie f’ da beach, Phillip.” “It’s a beautiful day, Elizabeth. I was going to leave the jacket behind.” “Soonah ya wear dis bikini.” “Somehow, I don’t think it would fit. But I do like the bottoms.”

What do they wear if they’re just around the house?: Time is hard to tell in an underground bunker, but if she had to guess, it’s just past three in the morning; the witching hour. Phil isn’t curled up beside her when she jolts awake and puts her hand out and all she can think to do is crawl out from under the covers. She’s still in the cargo pants and tee-shirt she’d been wearing when they’d arrived, an almost identical outfit to his. They needed to blend into the dark. Once they’d been certain that the base was still secure, they’d sacked out as is with no energy for anything else. The dark is eating at her as she moves through the fairly narrow confines; this was meant to be a bolt hole, not a holiday hotel room in a five star resort. “Phil?” She whispers as she moves into each new room, only to hear her own footsteps and the hum of electricity in the walls but for no purpose she can gather. She could, if she put her mind to it, find its source and trace its routes but terror and exhaustion make clear-headed thought almost impossible.

After an eternity, she comes into a small space allotted for food and its preparation. A single spare bulb glows overhead, and there he stands, hunched over a map. She immediately rushes him, throwing her arms around his chest, and kneading his arm with her brow. “Phil!” “Hey. I’ve got some of the gps working and for now, it seems we’re safe here in--” A pause. Then a low mixture of concern, and stiffness. “You okay?” She clutches his leather jacket tighter, not thinking about the animal who sacrificed its skin. “I woke up and you…you were…” He presses a kiss to her forehead. “Yeah, I get it. Why don’t you sit, and I’ll make you a cup of coffee.”

Who’s the holiday planner and who isn’t allowed to hold the passports?:

“Okay.” One word is all she says but it takes at least three times as long to pull herself away from him and even then she still feels a little queasy about it. He expects her to be made of sterner stuff, though, and she can’t bear disappointing him again. Her eyes follow him as he moves through the space. There are so many questions but she doesn’t even know where to begin. Maybe it’s the touch of otherness, the Spirit of Vengeance existing within him, that hears her anyway. “The last verified ping on May was thirty-six hours ago at an old second generation secret base, one called Radiant. How’s your Russian?”

“Ya imeyu v vidu, moglo byt' i khuzhe.” It could be worse, she says. “Good girl. Now, our best bet is to get to the Finnish border, drive the rest of the way. What do we have in the way of resources to get there?” Beth looks a little green around the gills. “I think I know someone who can get us there, but…I don’t think you’re gonna like it, and that’s assuming she’ll talk to me.”

Which type of phone do they have?:

Phil pulls out his Vivo. It’s an old generation but it’s running a proprietary OS designed specifically for SHIELD, the same one she runs on her Galaxy. He goes to pitch it once, twice, before he lets go and she catches it. Proof her reflexes are getting better despite the fact that she’s still too thin, too banged up for his taste. Reading her face, he frowns. “What’s the problem?” “She doesn’t use phones.” “Then how do we get a hold of her?” “You’re not going to like it.” “Why? We have to find the others. If that involves--” She cuts him off. “I’m going to need salt, bread, an’ your patience.”

What music do they like? Be specific if you know?: The bunker is entirely too quiet. It’s not anything like the bus where there’s a constant stream of subaudible white noise and the lives of the other people on it. Staring up into the blackness with little else to distract her beyond Phil’s breathing, the urge to toss and to turn, to get up and pace the floors until she’s worn ruts in her circuitous path, is near overwhelming. Drowning on dry land is what she would call it if she spoke aloud. Very carefully, she starts to slide her way towards the edge of the bed. And gasps when the hand not made of flesh and bone coils around her forearm. She’d never felt or heard him wake up, didn’t realise she’d disturbed him. “I’m sorry- I-I couldn’t sleep.” He nods. This is not new for him. He was used to her wandering all over the bus while others dreamed, was used to finding her curled up for those few moments of sleep inside of Lola. Where she felt safe. He is gentle as he pulls her back down, turning on his side and turning her, too, so that her back was pressed into his chest, where his other arm wrapped around her waist. She doesn’t know what to make of the bridge of his nose and his mouth close to the shell of her ear. At least until his voice, which wavers in its own way, a pleasant but raspy tenor, a contrast from her brother’s baritone. But she recognises Assemblage 23, and particularly the words of Lullaby.

“May you find solace…in the gentle arms of sleep. Despite the wolves outside your door. In time you will see them all as harmless, and their idle threats easy to ignore.” His voice pours right through her and she bites back the slightest gasp. “And if ever fate should choose to smite you; stand your ground, never walk away. Please don’t ever let the world defeat you, don’t get buried in its decay. As you drift into the gauzy realm of dreams, may you take comfort in the thought that you are safe…” Beth turns in his arms, resting her face just under his chin and slides one leg between his own.

Any favourite movie/tv shows?: “I loved Star Trek and Star Wars growing up,” he says while his eyes never leave the road. “The Man from U.N.C.L.E, too.” Her brows knit. “I dunno what is dat.” “It was a show centred on a two-man troubleshooting team working for the the multi-national secret intelligence agency, U.N.C.L.E ~United Network Command for Law Enforcement~” “Wha’ is it wi’ spy networks an’ dey like ridiculous uhm…breviations? Is dere like a room somewhere dat got a bunch of people from lotsa countries sittin’ around makin’ dis stuff up?” He laughs. She isn’t entirely wrong. “...Anyway, there was American Napoleon Solo played by Robert Vaughn, and Russian Illya Kuryakin played by David McCallum. Leo G. Caroll played Alexander Waverly, the British Chief of the organisation. Barbara Moore was eventually introduced by Lisa Rogers, in the fourth season. Fun fact-- the series, while fictional but probably loosely based on SHIELD, reached such cultural prominence that props, costumes, documents and a video clip are now housed in the Ronald Reagan Presidential Library and Museum’s exhibit on spies and counterspies. They have similar displays in the museums belonging to the CIA and other intelligence agencies.” “F’real, how you know all dis stuff?” Her answer is that Mona Lisa smile.

Do you see yourself being with them for a long time?:

When the metaphoric and literal smoke and fire clear, Beth turns away. Phil and May deserve a moment’s privacy to reassure one another that if nothing else, they are alive. Safety will come later, after they’ve left. She’ll assure him that he can take Melinda in the car, that she will meet him at the rendezvous spot and can get there, sight unseen, under her own power. What she won’t tell him is that she will do so by traversing the umbra, and once on the other side of the Gauntlet, she will shape-shift into something sleeker or faster. A bird, a cheetah. The contact that they owe will be pleased to get this favour done, and if Beth has to borrow a few things, the cost won’t be much. The time apart will be all well and good. It will give her time to grieve in privacy for the things that she will lose, now that they are slowly starting to repatriate the rest of the team. She’ll miss the feel of his arms around her. The gentleness in those embraces, the kisses that follow. Her bed will feel like some sort of barren wasteland without the warmth and comfort of his presence.

She will never be far from Phil. There to call on and do as he wants her to at a split-second notice. For as long as he wants her to be. But oh, how she’s going to ache for these last few weeks, fraught as they were. She clears her throat but it sounds brittle, rusty in her own ears. “We need f’ go soon, dey regrouping, sir.”

Do you share a home? If not why not?:

It is a gruelling trek back to the secret bunker. She still doesn’t know what secret name this one is called, but the homecoming is bittersweet. While May is taking a shower and Phil is rustling up a meal for them in the kitchen, Beth is in the room they’ve been sharing. She packs her meagre things carefully, not that there is much, but she knows better than to leave behind any sort of spore. Briefly, she picks up his pillow and hugs it to her chest. She breathes in the scent of him, and holds it in as long as she can. Some part of it should have known it would all be temporary. He’d rescued her first because she’d been one of the last to be taken into custody, ultimately inconsequential. The only threat she really posed was easily disabled by the collar. He’d needed her resources, her informational intelligence, the comfort of not being alone. She turns to go. And nearly jumps out of her own skin when she’s brought up short with a sharp, audible gasp. Startled to the point she drops the pillowcase she used for packing. She hadn’t expected to see him standing there, watching her silently with a face like a thunderstorm.

“Beth?” A wealth of questions in a single word. It takes her a moment to realise what he’d called her, and it wasn’t Agent Riley. “Y-you don’ haf’ worry ‘bout dis being a scene, Phil. I jus’ wan make da transition easier-” “What transition?” She gestures with a head-tilt in the direction of where the shower is running, presumably with May still under the hot water. “Huh.” Not a word, not even an inflection really. She doesn’t know what to make of it, or the fact that he crosses the narrow space and envelopes her into his arms. The embrace pulls her close and he bends down to put his chin on the top of her head. She isn’t treated to the sight of his eyes boring holes into the wall behind them, nor the look of his own grief when he closes them. “You…don’t have to.” “But she-” “Agent May is an adult. My oldest friend. I’d like to think she’d be understanding.”

What quirk do they have that you love?: “Oh, oh! Is this the part where you threaten to tear us limb from limb? Because I’ve got to say, I’ve already watched this movie and bought the tee-shirt.” Clearly, the moke of a HYDRA agent wasn’t sure what to do when Phil didn’t cower under the weight of his threat. Or reasoning that the threat was stupid, as Coulson implied, because half of the enemy were laying in pools of their own agony thanks to Agent May, and Beth herself has fried most of the electronics at his command thanks to a few little tricks up her sleeve. She absolutely loves those moments where, the more dire the situation, the snarkier Phil gets, an unparalleled aplomb of sarcasm and pop culture that is so incongruous with his typical unflappable mien. She gazes from Phil, where she sees that muscle in his jaw pop, to the HYDRA jerk, to Daisy’s face, where she can still see traces of pain from the jolt the woman received from the arm cuffs on her, so similar to the collar they’d kept Beth shackled with. It all takes place in fractions of seconds. She mouths the word “duck.”

Lastly what do you like watching them do?: Daisy does as she’s told, confused but understanding that she hasn’t got time to argue. At the same moment there’s the crack of bone that gives Beth an almost uncomfortable twitch through her whole body and the roar of fire. Phil gives himself over bodily to his Vengeful Spirit, and then the gun fires. She can smell the burning ozone of the blast, charring metal and flesh and cloth alike. Honestly, he should have listened to Phil when he politely requested the man turn Daisy over and let them walk away. Sometimes, though, Darwin is right and she feels no pity. If anything, she’s blushing and it has nothing to do with the heat the Spirit puts out. So many people seem to underestimate Phil Coulson. All they see is a mild mannered government angel. They never take into consideration that beneath the veneer, he’s a badass superhero. Even without having the benefit of being the Devil Driver. The Spirit relinquishes its hold, and Phil once more is himself. He shoulders that mini-canon, and helps Daisy up to her feet. Like with May, and Beth before her, he takes a moment to quietly ask her if she’s okay, to promise her she’s safe. Once they’ve had a few moments and May joins them, Beth comes over, and takes hold of the arm cuffs. A quick manipulation of the energy sequence and the hum winds down into a soft sound of unlocking. Daisy is now free to be Quake again. Beth takes her place on the girl’s other side, and for a brief instant, her hand and Phil’s brush. She leeches the lingering heat of them. “T’ree down, two f’ go,” she murmurs and he nods, a weary smile in place. “With that in mind, ladies, let’s go home.” “Wheels up in five,” May says and leads the way.

#Mahalo!Matt <333 #Uncle Wine Dad|Phil Coulson #Every Girl Needs a Hero|Phil and Beth #Hooked To The Silver Screen|MCU #Agents of SHIELD|AU #Burning Chrome|Devil Driver verse

[volixia669]

ngl, finding out Marvel has its own Paranormal division, that even calls itself the Howling Commandos makes me MUCH more interested in reading Marvel comics

#marvel comics #marvel paranormal #marvel blade #yes i'm reading 2006 blade #because watched movie #i dunno i just never got too big into marvel comics beyond what i read growing up #and what i read growing up was literally the origins of various characters #and 80s xmen comics that my dad had BOXES of #i'm pretty familiar with dc paranormal side of things #as anyone who follows me knows #but yeah i've mostly read those comics plus the matt fraction hawkeye run plus a black widow comic #oh and that deadpool issue with the suicidal girl he helps out #that was a good one

[gamermattsgf]

Teddy bear // breeding Matt

Warnings: major breeding kink / lowkey dad Matt / creampie / fingering / female stimulation / established relationship / spit kink / hair pulling / classic missionary position / major praise kink / cum kink / unprotected sex (pls don’t do this) / slight male stimulation / mommy kink (sort of?)

Summary: after a visit to see your neighbour Darrel’s new born baby girl, Matt is so in awe of her that he decides to exercise an age old kink he has on you later that night.

Author’s notes: FINALLY. This one’s been highly anticipated for a while now so I hope you all enjoy reading about my favourite kink to pair with Matt in the whole entire world. Obviously it’s not for everyone, so if u don’t like this kind of thing just don’t read it and politely move along... but, BABIES. Plus yes, the reader is on the pill for heavens sake!! Wrap it before you tap it people. (Also happy early birthday to my sweet @asturniolos this one is for you baby girl ;)).

“But lately you’ve been feeling so good, I forget my future, never pull out” - Prom, SZA

‘Oh- my god’ Matt squeaks with his mouth parted slightly and a twinkle in his eye as soon as your neighbour’s baby girl is dropped into his awaiting arms. The pastel pink blanket swaddled around her squirming body falls gently over Matt’s cradling hand, he automatically starts to bounce her.

‘Hi little girl’ he tucks his chin into his neck and mumbles gently down to the sleeping girl that smacks her lips with her eyelashes feathered. She wriggles about in her sleep, her little mittened fingers tiredly stretching up and then falling to tuck back into the warmth of her blanket.

This almost makes Matt swoon. He struggles to hide his peep of delight at the baby’s action, his smile splitting his cheeks whilst his eyes quickly flick down to yours.

You smile happily up at him, knowing how long he had been waiting to see your neighbour Darrel’s newborn. As soon as you told him Darrel’s wife had birthed a healthy baby girl he had constantly been pestering and poking you to take him to go and see her.

He had been talking about it all morning and as soon as you two had entered the threshold of Darrel’s house he had been practically bouncing off of the ceilings to have a go at holding her.

‘So I take it Lily didn’t disappoint your expectations then?’ Darrel chuckles whilst Matt slowly rocks the blanketed baby from side to side, looking at her with an adoration that only comes from a man that wants one of his own. He then repositions her within the nest of his arms so that he can lift one of his hands up to poke his pointer finger out.

‘Ahw she’s so small’ he coos in disbelief.

Softly feathering his fingertip against Lily’s little appled cheek, he traces it around her soft skin, tickling her face until her nose scrunches and she opens her mouth to babble sleepily.

‘Isn’t she just’ Darrell sighs.

Matt felt as though he could just melt into a puddle of pink joyful goo, he never wants to let go of the small child, he’s in too much admiration over how little she is.

The tiny pink shells of her lips, her soft head of blonde hair, and her whispy little eyelashes. All of these features make him subtly glance back down to you, his sweetly mature girlfriend. He bites his lips at the ‘what if?’ possibilities he fantasises in his head.

It’s almost concerning how easy it is for Matt to imagine Lily as his own baby girl gently balanced within his protective arms like a smooth little pebble worth treasuring. He utterly adores her as he stands in his white sweater and grey beanie, the weight in his arms as light as a feather.

When a person wants something, it’s easy to tell, because when you look at what you want there always seems to be this sharp tug in your gut that lets you know how desperately you want it.

Well… Matt’s heart squeezes, and his gut contorts at yet again another action of the sweet baby girl within his arms mumbling and then tilting her head to the side so that she can snuggle further back into the blanket surrounding her.

Matt really fucking wanted a baby.

‘She really is’ you decide to chime into the conversation, agreeing with an awestruck Matt that looks as though he’s on the verge of tears because of how cute Lily is. You know that Matt absolutely adores children, so the sight alone of his sunny beam down at Lily’s chubby face makes your posterior soften. You blush at the look of him effortlessly cradling the baby within his arms before subtly squeezing your thighs together and biting your lip.

Fuck. This shouldn’t make you throb in between your legs as much as it does.

‘Oh that reminds me, Matt and I thought it would be nice to buy Lily a little welcome home present…’ you begin again, trying to distract yourself by catching Darrel’s attention. You lean over from your position on the couch to riffle around in your bag, until you find what you’re looking for. ‘Ah, here it is!’ you mumble triumphantly and wrap your fingers around the soft furry body of the little teddy bear Matt had insisted on buying for Lily.

‘Can we please get her a teddy’ he had begged you the day before, with sparkling eyes and a pout that you just couldn’t refuse.

So you had both gone down the stuffed animal isle of a store and Matt had let you pick out a small brown bear with beady black eyes and a button nose before taking it with him and happily going off to pay for it whilst instructing you to go and wait for him in the car.

Later that day you had wanted to personalise it and so decided to go to the dollar store and pick up a roll of pink ribbon, cutting off a strip and tying it around one of the teddy’s arms into a sweet little bow.

Your smile only increases the more you pull it out of the bag because of just how adorable it is. You had been itching to give it to Darrel for a while now.

As soon as he realises what it is, his eyes soften. ‘Oh goodness, you two didn’t have to do that, it’s lovely…’ he gushes, reaching out to take the teddy bear from your offering palms, to which Matt can’t help but crack a smile at your pretty face.

He cuts into Darrel’s rambling to put him at ease. ‘It’s alright- we wanted to do this for you guys, Lily deserves all of the teddies in the world! Don’t you honey?’ He affirms, before cheesing as he looks down at Lily to speak to her in a high-pitched babied voice, the kind of voice you would use when speaking to a puppy.

‘Really. It’s very nice of you, I’m sure Lily will love it… might have to wait till she gets a bit bigger to actually understand what it is though…’ Darrel cracks a joke, and both you and Matt laugh fondly. However, the vibrations in Matt’s chest manage to wake Lily up, and she opens her big doe eyes sleepily to look up at Matt in confusion.

This catches Matt’s attention and he gazes down at her, admiring the glassiness of her irises before gently shushing her and rocking her back to sleep.

‘Well what d’ya know Matt… you’re a natural, mind babysitting with your girlfriend every once in a while? Could use the help’

Both you and Matt make excited eye contact, not much persuasion needed to take special care of the tiny little angel lying in Matt’s arms.

‘We wouldn’t mind at all Darrel…’

*

You and Matt have been quietly laying in bed for a while now, one of his bedside lamps twinkling on a low setting as he sleepily rests his head on top of yours. He spoons you, his warm chest cozy and his bigger arms cocooning you into him further as his massive palms splay about either side of your ribcage. He gently strokes the pads of his thumbs over your dewy skin and occasionally will press a lazy but affirming kiss to your temple before groaning and settling back down again.

You have your eyes closed, fully relaxed as Matt threads his haired legs in between your smoothened ones, his bearded face scratching your cheek every single time he squirms around ever so slightly to reposition himself.

The room is silent aside from the subtle squeaks of his springy mattress underneath his weight and each of your gentle breaths mingling with one another.

Suddenly Matt’s chest expands, and he heaves a deepened sigh, his cheeks reddening shyly at the thought he conjures up in his mind. He’s suddenly really quite horny, and the quietness within the room prompts him to start thinking about the hold he currently has over your body, and what he could be doing to it instead.

The atmosphere in the room turns hot, and Matt almost starts to overheat because his cheeks burn so much. He swallows thickly and allows his mind to wander, electrical pulses making their way down his lower half and tightening up his pants.

You of course, are oblivious to this sudden change in mood.

That is, until Matt starts to feather one of his stroking hands down your torso ever so slightly. It tickles, and his hand raises goosebumps wherever it touches, especially when his pinkie subtly nestles its way into the top of your panties, dipping downward before pulling back out and snapping the elastic waistband onto your skin suggestively. You catch on to this and furrow your brows with playful suspiciousness.

‘Matt… what are you doing?’ You muse cheekily, already clearly know what his intentions are because now you can feel his prick, its thickness hard and needy for you as it presses into your backside.

Matt doesn’t answer, instead lets out a shaky breath and simply leans his scratchy face back into your cheek to press a spongy kiss onto the now pink skin.

As he does this, the hand down at your core sensually slides over your underwear.

Matt bites his lip as he feels warm dampness already emanating from your centre when sliding two of his fingers down into the cushion of your thighs.

He touches you, slowly, teasingly, rubbing the pads of his fingers in a circular motion as he presses them into your clothed clit. This makes your folds ache, and you hiss, arching your back away from him. But Matt grunts at this and still manages to keep his torturous hand all over you, his other arm tightening around your torso and hauling you back to him aggressively.

‘Shhh, you stay put now angel’ he hushes, mumbling into your skin as you whine meekly, one of your hands coming up to squeeze the arm that is slithered around your chest whilst the other one grapples to grip onto something below Matt’s silky brown sheets. That thing you yearn to grab onto just so happens to end up being Matt’s thigh, that is clothed in his red pyjama bottoms.

You squeeze his strong muscle and feed your bottom lip into your mouth to bite it.

You then feel his smirk on your cheek as his hand begins the horrifying descent back upwards. This time, it slips underneath your underwear. ‘If you can’t hand my fingers I dread to think of how much of a mess I’m gonna make of you with my cock…’

Your breath hitches as two of his fingers slide right down your sticky slit, gathering up as much wetness as he can before stretching out your hole. This time instead of hissing, you let out a breathy moan.

‘What? Not got anything to say back to me baby?’ He taunts you when you refuse to even think about trying to formulate a proper sentence after the soft curl of his fingers around your velveteen walls. He strokes them at a languid pace.

Matt sighs when all you do is breathe heavily, ‘you’re so soft around my fingers honey… gonna feel so fucking nice around my cock too, aren’t you?’.

Your toes curl at Matt’s sweetened praise, his worship of your physicality smelling like strong vanilla scented candles and melting over your body like a dollop of sugary ice cream.

Matt loves to praise you, you’re always so good for him, and he would spend hours with his head in between your thighs just to show you how much he loved you if he could.

Kiss after kiss, his tongue layering up your dripping centre as he forces his fingers into your mouth to swallow how loud you’re being with his eyes constantly trained on just how euphoric he’s making you feel.

‘Fuck- y-yes Matt, m’always ready for you…’

You finally muster the words to express how you’re feeling, and they tumble from your mouth like a broken melody, the result of them making Matt grin even harder. He’s feeling especially bold tonight, the memory of bouncing Lily on his hip still fresh in his mind and prompting him to relay his fantasy freely onto your awaiting figure.

Suddenly, he’s sliding his fingers out of their teasing hold over your sopping wet cunt, before moving away from you and rolling you onto your back.

Matt hungrily licks away at his fingers whilst doing this, wanting to taste you whilst you’re at your freshest and untainted by him.

The sight before him makes his prick drip with precome, sticky white fluid uncontrollably seeping from out of his tip as soon as he catches how pink and alive you look. It wets his underwear and almost makes him shiver, the thought of devouring you right then and there.

Sliding your shirt up for himself, he peers down at your tits to see that your nipples have already hardened just for him, the cooler air helping with their stiffness. Matt’s mouth waters at the sight of them.

‘Hmm, holding that baby today really got me thinking about how pretty you’d look with one of mine…’ he breathlessly mumbles, dipping his head down to suck on your bottom lip. His hands soon after slip up to cup just beneath your tits that pebble and ache to be coated in his spit.

You utter a quick whine of approval back at him, your own hands trailing up his goose-bumped flesh to touch the soft scruffiness of the hair on the back of his head.

He smirks at your responsive nature. ‘Yeah? Want me to give you my babies? Fucking fill you up and keep my cock in there n’breed you?’.

Matt’s cock throbs at even the thought of this, the thought of rutting his hips into you so fast that you start to drool with your tits shaking and your back arching for his cum. The cum that he’s going to have you absolutely swollen with by the end of the night. He doesn’t want a single drip leaking out of your hole, he’ll cockwarm you if he has to, simply to hold it in there with his own slickness.

‘Please Matt… you can- you can do whatever you want to me’ you shamelessly plead, the heat between your thighs juicing up and wetting your panties, already readying you for him. He smirks at this, his pretty blue eyes twinkling as he gives your mouth one more sloppy kiss before moving downward.

‘Fucking gorgeous’ his mouth muffles upon contact of your tits as soon as he decides to take one of them into his mouth and wetly kiss on it ‘gorgeous tits… all for me yeah? All mine?’ He questions possessively, one of his hands curling around your spare breast and squeezing it wholeheartedly.

‘All yours Matt- all fucking yours’ you reply in a breathless stupor, liking the way he sucks your tit and gently rolls around your nipple with his hot tongue.

‘These tits gonna be for my baby hm?’ He questions patronisingly after pulling away from your now sticky skin, a couple of purpling marks bruising to the surface of your delicate flesh where his mouth just hadn’t been able to help itself.

Your back arches and you hum a whine in agreement, vigorously nodding your head before letting Matt roll you two around so that now your thighs are gently straddling him and he is leaning against the headboard of his bed, the silk sheets underneath you two making him slump downwards a little.

‘Wanna make you a mommy so bad… would you do that for me? Take all of my cum and keep it? I want you to be selfish with it baby…want you to be greedy for more of it’.

It’s no secret that Matt has a smooth tongue. You two spend hours rolling around in the sheets, playing with each other as he makes sure to utilise it in whatever way he possibly can. But, for some reason his words have been hitting extremely different tonight. As though he has flipped a switch and pulled out all of the stops to lay it on extra thick.

Clearly, that time with you and Lily earlier had affected him in the most filthiest of ways.

Matt has shared words of breeding you before, but never to this extent, and you hate to admit it, but fuck does it soak you more than usual. Maybe just both of you being around the baby this morning makes it all seem extra real as he starts to roll your hips into a grinding motion over his bulge, but whatever it is, it’s working.

Both of you hold blushing eye contact as Matt does this, his mouth hung open and his eyes dilated. Fuck. You can physically feel the throbbing heartbeat sitting from in between his legs as he harshly grinds you over himself and releases raggedy whimpers into the air. You can tell he’s pent up, he needs you terribly, he wants you selfishly. He would fucking die for a feel of your walls sucking against his naked skin, it’s all he’s ever yearning for.

‘I want your cum Matt… please- please give it to me’ you freely beg, your head tilted down to look at him as the heated atmosphere boils in between the two of you. Your tits quickly become a focal point of interest for him before you get up off of his lap to speedily take off your slick underwear.

You toss them somewhere into Matt’s room and hear the fabric hit the floor gently. Matt gazes at your frantic figure with some form of satisfaction, his smugness evident due to the way you had absolutely begged for his cum.

He tilts his head and observes the way you clamber back onto his thighs, your hair all tussled and your skin lighting up with honeyed brilliance in the warm lamp light, casting beautiful contours all over your tits.

‘There’s a good girl’ he quips, before giving in to your expectant hands that wander alongside the waistband of his pyjamas. He simply cannot resist your puppyish eyes that stare at him to take them off. He lifts his hips up and feeds one of his hands into both his pants and underwear that teasingly travel downwards at a slow pace.

After Matt’s cock springs free, it careens back to hit his stomach and leave a wet dribble of precum near his dark snail trail. His tip is red and the veins popping over his thickness almost hurt to look at.

You swallow and start to shyly edge your way forwards, but not before leaning over to look inside of his bedside drawer. Your attention is focused on trying to rifle around Matt’s things, but he only has eyes for you, and can’t help but quickly lift his hand up to his lip line so that he can spit a thick dollop of saliva onto it.

He spreads it all over his cock and whimpers a little at how sensitive he feels whilst your hand skirts over the outline of his car keys, his rings, his wallet… until you find exactly what you’re looking for. Selecting a foil wrapper out of the drawer you messily close it once again with your chest heaving and a dewy layer of perspiration coating it.

Your weepy centre stings now, because it hasn’t been touched for a while, and you can’t squeeze your thighs together for traction because you’re currently straddling Matt’s.

You hand him the condom wrapper and he closes it within his thumb and pointer finger, before looking down at it in contemplation. After taking about 3 seconds of silence, he looks back up at you with a smirk, your hands already propped up on his shoulders for support.

You watch in horny silence as Matt effortlessly chucks the condom away. ‘We’re not gonna need one of those’ he quips as the wrapper patters gently to the mattress, now completely forgotten about in favour of Matt wanting to feel everything.

You didn’t think it was even possible to get wetter in attraction, but you were wrong.

Butterflies press against your gut as one of Matt’s hands slither up to the back of your neck. His fingertips thread into your locks and he gets a firm hold over the roots of your hair before dragging you down to have your lips on his once again.

He forces his tongue into your mouth, his desperation present with every stuttering moan he takes as he somehow manages to push you onto your back, his torso toppling over yours to change the power dynamic between the two of you once more. His fluffed hair is ruffled and bushy, his beard dark and prickly as it scrapes against the skin of your face with every twist of his tongue.

‘Always so pretty when you’re wet for me sweetheart, want my baby to have your eyes’ he mumbles through every clash of your teeth, kissing you so vigorously that sometimes he has to bite and pull on your bottom lip. He drinks you like he’s desperate for water, and you’re the only cold spring around- not that you complain though.

These thoughts only make your back arch up into his stomach, your core beyond desperate to be stretched out by him now.

‘Matt… please touch me baby- m’so sore’ you cry up into his lips, meekly pleading for him to comply and give you what you need.

And he does. Pulling away he smirks at you before trailing his nose down your jaw and focussing his kisses onto your neck. He sucks on the supple flesh there, and as he does so, makes sure to grasp ahold of his prick so that he can paint it all the way over your pink clit.

The moment his head crowns through your folds is a moment of extreme pleasure, and Matt stops all of what he’s doing to possessively look down at your face whilst he slides himself inside of you.

You suck him in, and his hot skin cushions perfectly around you. He fucking loves stretching you out like this and listening to the way you let out mangled sounds of discomfort, it lets him know he’s big and it strokes his ego when you whine in pain because of how full you feel.

‘Shit… I’m never gonna get used to that…’ your voice shakes with your nose scrunching up sensitively, but Matt hushes you gently. ‘Shhh baby… I know, I know it hurts, but you’re being such a good girl, love when you let me know how nice and thick I am’.

You nod, trying to only pay attention to the way Matt soothingly strokes the backs of your thighs with his fingertips as he pushes himself deeper into your throbbing heat.

Matt makes sure to hitch them around his hips and hook your legs over his back so that the balls of your feet can brush against his ass, because it stretches your inner thighs out further.

Matt fucking lusts the colour your cheeks turn whenever he fucks you, especially on a day like today. He groans as an overwhelming amount of pleasure overcomes him.

Neither of you are lasting long for this, that he already knows.

‘Fuck- I’m never wearing a condom again with you. You feel too good wrapped around me like this’ he whimpers, and slowly begins to start up a grind. He adores the way your chin falls back in euphoria as he starts to move you on the mattress, your thighs twitching and your slick walls stroking perfectly against his stickiness.

Your eyes twinkle up at him, his words managing to almost melt you on the spot. It’s not long before he picks up the pace, his breathing rate increasing and becoming more of a breathless pant.

You almost drool at the speed of his frantic hips and can’t help but struggle a moan after every time you feel him press against your g-spot.

‘Fuck baby… if you’re not careful imma hide your birth control pills n’breed you properly. I’ll tie you up and keep you in here until I’ve fucked you enough to see that baby in your stomach’.

Matt is 100% serious at this statement. The feeling of not wearing a condom with you easily becomes one of his new favourite things as he gets drunk on the oxytocin it gifts him.

Tears almost stream from your waterline at the statement, your back now permanently arched and begging for his cum. It’s as if those words coated in pure filth just did it for you, because soon after they’re uttered and Matt reaches down to start playing with your clit, you feel an orgasm dawning over you.

It sparks and bubbles like an undulating wave that gets even stronger after every time it crashes against the walls of your gut. Your breath hitches.

‘Matt I- I think I’m gonna cum’ you struggle up to him, and Matt nods quickly, his mouth dropped open and his hips getting sloppier the more his skin erotically slaps against yours. ‘M-me too’ he stutters, his whole entire body drenched in the sweat of his efforts.

Your orgasm rattles from your stomach all the way to your ribcage, melting over your body like a psychedelic dream before you hear Matt also whimpering loudly into your ear. His forehead crashes down to hit against your collarbone and his arms shake as he too feels the phenomenal rush of his orgasm.

As he continually ruts his hips at a lazy pace, he makes sure to fill you up with all of his thick ropes of cum, the slimy hotness of it drenching both his cock and your walls with an ample amount. Finally, after feeling like he can go no more, his hips relax and slow to a stop.

Both of you pant tiredly as you trail one of your hands up to Matt’s head just so that you can appreciatively stroke it, his cock still comfortably stuffed inside of you.

As far as Matt’s concerned, he’s not moving it an inch because if he does, the cum still coated on it would come dripping out of your spent hole with part of it still strung onto his head and your folds like a string of saliva connected by two pairs of lips.

‘You keeping your cock in me?’ You muse to him sleepily, but with a tone of playfulness as you regain your breathing and stare up at Matt’s ceiling.

You can feel his gentle smile curling against your skin.

‘Wouldn’t want to get our cum all over my bedsheets now would we?’ He responds in just as playful a manner.

‘No, we wouldn’t…’.

Author’s notes p.2: yayyyyy I’m baaaack. I thoroughly apologise for not keeping up with my one smut every weekend schedule but I literally had no time to write last week, it was crazy. However, I’m grateful that I’ve finally finished this one because I’ve been so fucking excited to share it with you, plus people have been dying for it for so long… good to keep the tension building you guys, some slow burn action for you all hehe. Someone tell me why the start of this one is so fucking cute tho?? That’s exactly how I imagine Matt would react with a baby in his close proximity and it makes me want to mother his children lol. Next up is racer Chris so look forward to that, plus ask and request what ever as always!!! Love you all my little cinnamon buns 💋 (Apologies if I miss anyone out on the taglist there’s so many of u now, if I’ve accidentally missed anyone out, pls re-comment on this post that u want to be on it and I’ll add u to my list :))

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