my name is pea, and i've got lots of interests - you'll probably see posts relating to the mcu (marvel cinematic universe), formula one, and various other tv/movies (animal kingdom, the pitt) - there may also be a project or personal post from time to time!
absolutely NO MINORS on this blog!! things may not always be 18+ material, but any under 18 or ageless blogs will be removed. only you are responsible for your media consumption. please disregard any typos, i rather you know it was written by me than put together by AI slop.
DNI - minors, homophobes, transphobes, republicans and zionists ! i hope to curate a safe and fun space, disrespect of any kind is not allowed. that being said, please feel free to send in any headcannons you want to share, i'd love to chat!
a PSA for the rude and nasty messages i'm getting !!
hello lovelies! since i am quite new to posting, i wanted to set this precedent down very fast.
this is not directed at the lovely folks that have been commenting positive and kind things on my fics!! i love that you are reading and enjoying it, and i love seeing your ideas for where to take my stories next!
that being said - any messages i do not care for that are commented on my work, sent to me as a DM or as an ask will automatically be deleted. mind you, i am not talking about constructive comments on my writing, as i love feedback, and it is highly appreciated! however, i do not tolerate anyone taking the time out of their day to come to this blog and threaten me with harm and ill wishes on me and my family over someone not liking a fanfiction that they willingly chose to read.
i am a grown woman with a full-time job, and i do not have to justify to strangers and argue my case about why i write the things i write on the internet.
if you do not like what i am posting, you are responsible for your media consumption.
contents: jack abbot x clumsy!reader, descriptions of some injuries reader sustains, tiny mention of blood, meeting for the first time at the ER
jack abbot was reluctant to date after his wife was gone. not only did he feel a little guilty for it, but the dating scene had changed drastically since he was younger. he wasn't meant for swiping on apps and "you up?" texts at 2am, so he's very thankful that you appeared at the pitt one evening, even under bad circumstances.
you drove yourself there after a nasty fall at your house left you with a cut on your leg. when you first saw jack walk in to analyze the injury, your first thought was 'hm...he's pretty cute,' but when you saw the ring, you squashed that thought down. "so, how'd you manage this?" he asked gruffly, concentrating on cleaning you up.
"i was, um...removing popcorn ceiling in my house, fell off the ladder," you admit quietly as your cheeks turn pink.
he lets out a short laugh, glancing up at you. "don't they have professionals for that?" he asks you, and before he can stop himself he adds, "can't have you getting all banged up, sweetheart. be careful," as he finishes the placing the bandages.
your skin is on fire and you can barely keep the blush off your cheeks as you sign your discharge paperwork.
jack watched you leave with a curious look, almost wishing he had said more. he can practically feel the stare of robby's eyes on the back of his head and it's confirmed when he turns to see robby with a smirk on his face.
"shut up." "i didn't even say anything!"
the next time you end up at the pitt, it's worse. while trying to build the bookshelf you saw online, your hand slipped as you pressed your nail gun to the wood, sending it into your thumbnail. after some tears and a little freaking out (okay, a lot of freaking out), you drove yourself to the ER for the second time this month.
jack is there again, and your teary eyes and tight frown break his heart when you're finally brought back to a bed. "alright, let's see the damage," he murmurs, bringing your hand into his to assess it. you wince and refuse to look as he takes off the red stained dish towel you wrapped around your hand. "jeez, kid. how'd you manage this?"
he nods when you tearfully recount the story, a small smile on his lips as you finish talking and he finishes numbing the area. "you know they sell bookshelves, right? ones with no nails or screws needed?" he tries to lighten the mood. it makes you laugh just a little as you keep your eyes closed tightly. "i- i know, but i wasn't gonna pay all that money when i can build it myself."
the nail is removed and he's able to bandage you up just fine, giving you the care instructions with your discharge paperwork. "little word of advice: start hiring someone," he says quietly to you as he signs you out for the evening. you respond with a small nod and pink blush on your cheeks.
it takes one more unfortunate accident before you're seeing jack again. after trying to install your pantry shelves alone, the top one gave way while you were trying to screw it in, the edge lacerating your forehead.
with a wrapped bag of half-melted ice on your head, you wait in a bed until jack opens the curtain and sighs. "what on earth could you have possibly done now?" he asks you as he walks over and gently pulls the ice away.
"pantry shelves...didn't stay in place," you murmur. he shakes his head as he cleans the cut. "i don't know what we're gonna do with you. you're gonna be all bumps and bruises by the time you enjoy your house."
you let out a small huff of air as he puts butterfly strips on your head, his touch extremely gentle. he's never had to get this close before, but his presence is intoxicating. his cologne, his body wash, the detergent on his scrubs...everything. you're almost a little bummed when he finishes.
he feels the same way. he could sit and smell your perfume and your shampoo all day, he even takes a little longer than necessary to finish your bandages.
once he comes back with your paperwork, he hands it to you and takes a step closer than needed. a bright yellow post-it is stuck to the packet with a 10-digit number scribbled on it. "if you ever need help with one of those big projects, give me a call."
MDNI, 18+ content - reader x frank castle, reader x matt murdock
MATT MURDOCK loves when you don't wear a bra. it's not like he can analyze the visual aspects of you forgoing one, but he loves to hear the difference it makes. the sound you make when your nipples rub against the fabric of your top, the catch in your breath when it gets a little chilly and they pebble up. he especially loves the fall and winter time when he can find you curled up on the couch with nothing underneath the hoodie you're wearing so he can slide up next to you and plant his warm hands directly on your tits with an insincere "i gotta keep you warm, honey. just let me hold 'em."
FRANK CASTLE, however, hates when you don't wear one. the second that you're out together and a breeze comes through, your nipples are stiff and straining against your top...and frank can't look away. any waiter who's eyes linger on them too long or any cashier that definitely isn't looking at your face when they give you your change is getting a death stare from frank as he stands beside you. as soon as people are out of earshot, he's got a grip on your waist while he scolds you. "all that money you spend at victoria's secret and you can't wear a bra when we go out to dinner?" "the straps would look strange with my dress, and no one even noticed!" "sweetheart, everyone noticed."
contents: andrew 'pope' cody x fem!reader, soft!pope, kinda ooc!pope, reader that doesn't ask anyone for anything (lol me), kinda materialistic!reader - enjoy my little angels 💕🦢 this is purely self indulgent given my upcoming birthday and my recent online shopping habits (someone send help, i spent $200 on jellycats)
andrew really never clicked with someone until you. he felt like he needed to offer every bit of himself to keep you around, to keep you his. he had an urge to provide for you and to show you just how good he can be.
you never saw it that way, just enjoying him for who he is. "i don't need your money, andy. i just need you," you'd tell him when he insisted on paying for something.
obviously after a while, you understood what andrew and his family did. it took lots of reassurance from you for him to believe that his secret was safe with you but you promised him a million times over that you'd take it to the grave.
with his unconventional career, he tended to have a lot of money laying around. he wasn't one to blow it on coke like his brothers, so who better to spend it on then you? but there's just one issue.
you buy yourself everything.
not in a bad way, of course! you just love the self sufficiency of buying your own things. a purse you saw at the store? it comes home with you. a pretty bracelet you find online? the package is in your hand before andrew can even order it. you even insist that you're the one that makes the rent payments since the apartment was in your name first.
he loves that you're independent, but it's hard for him.
he feels a duty to provide for you, and he feels like he can't fulfill that when you buy yourself anything you need. eventually, a couple of weeks before your birthday, andrew breaks through the comfortable silence while you're eating chinese takeout on the couch.
"don't buy anything this week. or next."
it catches you off guard a little. "what?" you laugh gently, biting off the end of your egg roll. "what do you mean, andy?"
"for the next two weeks," he nods seriously. "don't buy yourself anything. i need to get you a gift you'll like, but you can't buy it for yourself."
you set your food down on the coffee table to turn yourself towards him more. "andy, i don't need anything big and special for my birthday. i don't need a fancy gift," you explain, grabbing his free hand. "you need an idea for something i want?"
he nods almost immediately. "yeah, lay it on me. what can i get you, sweetheart?" he asks, almost unsure.
"i wanna have dinner here. i want us to make it ourselves, and i want dessert from the italian bakery down by the cove, deal?"
he was looking for something a little more materialistic, but he nods and goes with it. "dinner and dessert, i can do that."
"good," i lean in, kissing his cheek. "now let's keep eating."
when the day finally comes, true to your word, you didn't buy anything. no online shopping, no mall trips on the weekend, not even instagram scrolling where an ad can tempt you.
andrew made the most amazing pasta for dinner and picked up cannolis from the bakery you requested. he poured you wine, let you taste test everything as he cooked while you sat on the counter next to him, and let you talk about anything you wanted while quiet music played.
"andy, this was the most amazing birthday, thank you," you praise, kissing him as you both sit on the couch after dinner is cleaned up. "and i loved dinner, it was the best gift you could give me."
he shifts on the couch, standing up to excuse himself as he walks down the hall and into your shared bedroom. he arrives only a few seconds later with a gift bag and a small smile on his face.
"andy..."
"i know...i know, you don't like huge gifts and i know that you buy everything for yourself, but of course i had to get you something. i couldn't...not, you know?"
you smile and take the bag as he hands it to you, and whatever is inside takes you by surprise with it weight. "andy, this is heavy! please don't tell me you spent a ton of money," i pout, waiting for him to sit next to me to open it.
"don't worry, honey. just open it," he encourages as you start to pull away the tissue paper. on top is an envelope. a very thick envelope. you pull the card out and gasp as gift cards fall out onto your lap when you open it. scrawled inside the generic card; 'the only way i can get you to spend my money. love, andrew.'
your eyes water as you pick them all up. your favorite grocery market, the bra store you like, the bookstore...he thought of everything. a folded piece of paper catches your eye, brows furrowing as you unfold and read it.
a payment statement that the rent has been paid for the next three months.
andrew is shocked by the speed at which your arms wrap around him, your wet eyes brushing his skin as your bury yourself in his neck. "this is the dorkiest and sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me...thank you, andy," you mumble, making him chuckle.
"of course, sweetheart. keep going, there's more in there," he says gently, kissing your temple. the gasp that you get out when you uncover the object under the pastel paper makes his heart light up.
contents: smut, established matt murdock x fem!reader, mentions of an injury and stitches, unprotected piv, finishing inside, cuck!matt (again lol), overuse of pet names, matt telling reader what to do - to the people that actually encouraged a part 2, this is for you!! please excuse any typos, and thank you for reading! this is a loose continuation of my last matt/frank blurb, but can be read as a stand-alone
All work on this blog is done without the use of AI.
after the night that frank dragged matt home, there was an unspoken...domesticity, one may say, between the three of you. a couple more occasions like this had occurred, never being spoken about between you all.
it started this time with matt bringing frank into your home after a fight left a nasty slash across frank's back. matt insisted that you did good stitches on him in the past and dragged frank into the apartment so you could tend to him.
"what did you get cut with, a chainsaw?" you wince as you take a look at the jagged cut across the back of his shoulder blade. his vest and shirt had been shed and tossed on the armchair, left only in his black pants and boots.
"nah, don't worry 'bout it, sweetheart. besides, matt told me i'm in good hands," he smirks. the heat on your cheeks is almost instant as matt sets the suture kit beside you. you mentally scold yourself as you thread the needle. 'get a grip! stop thinking about him, just be gentle,' you tell yourself, but it's hard to focus with his rippling back muscles tensing and flexing under your touch.
you make quick work of cleaning him off, even when he hisses from the sting of the alcohol. "m'sorry, you're doing great," you murmur, unsure what to tell the wall of a man in front of you. he only laughs dryly at your sad attempt at comfort.
"i'm doin' great? and what's my reward for doin' great, beautiful?" he ask quietly. if he hears your breathing change, he doesn't comment...but matt does.
"yeah, sweetheart...what are you gonna show frank for doing so great?" matt asks teasingly from his seat near the end table. you swallow, just trying to focus on placing stitch after stitch.
"what," you swallow, working up the courage to ask matt. "what do you want me to show him?" you ask just above a whisper. you don't let your eyes leave the needle in your hands as matt chuckles at your newfound shyness. "what about the thing we've been working on, yeah?"
that really gets frank's attention. "workin' on somethin' special? i gotta say, don't think that mouth can get any more special-" he starts, but matt cuts him off sharply. "no. tell him, honey."
your face goes red hot. don't they know you're trying to work here?! you let out a heavy sigh before responding, trying to shake off the nervousness. "um...matt was showin' me how to be on top."
it comes out no louder than a mumble, but you know frank heard it. "he's teachin' you to be on top? what, you've been a princess forever, haven't ya? just laying' there and takin' it for everyone?" he lets out a dark laugh. "that's adorable."
your skin is on fire by the time you're tying up the last stitch. you cut the thread and stand up, making quick work of the suture kit and scurrying to the bathroom to put it away and get a grip. your pajamas aren't anything special by any means, just an old shirt and some cotton shorts, but you put in a little effort underneath. you have a feeling that the black set that you were wearing for matt to take off later will be taken off by some rougher hands this time.
back in the living room, frank is sprawled on his back across the couch, trying to limit the stretch he puts on his new stitches. "you really gonna let her show me, red?" he asks matt with a shit-eating grin, even though matt can't see it. matt sighs and shakes his head with a small smile. "be nice, she's trying her best."
by the time you're back in the same room, matt has a bottle of his terrible IPA in his hand, sitting back in the chair like he's ready to play coach. "come here, hun. show frank what you've got on," he instructs as you stand close to him. before you could ask him how he knew, he beats you to it. "lace sounds different against your skin, i can tell."
his comment doesn't help the burning in your skin at all, only getting worse actually as you remove your t-shirt. frank lets out a low whistle from the couch as he watches, one hand resting over his clothed cock. "you got the matching panties on too, baby?" he asks quietly. you nod tentatively, but matt removes your shorts before you can think too much about it, leaving you standing almost bare in the living room.
"how's she look?" matt asks, one hand on your hip.
"like a fuckin' dream," frank responds, working to unzip his pants as he lays there with his eyes fixed on you. "so, you gonna come ride or what?"
you're stuck swallowing at the blunt question, nodding as you make your way closer to frank. you watch him take himself out of his pants. holy shit. not that matt doesn't satisfy you, because he certainly does, but frank is different...thicker. "you want me to show you, like, right now?" you ask quietly.
"yeah, honey. c'mere," frank nods. his hand reaches out and he helps you swing your leg over his lap, getting yourself situated right above his cock. his finger hooks into the bottom of your panties so he can slide the fabric to the side, letting his tip rub against you. you both almost forget about matt's presence. almost.
"sink on it, honey," matt encourages. "show him what you do for me."
frank helps you line yourself up with him, gripping your hip as you finally sink down on him. the air feels punched from your lungs as he fills you, the groan leaving his lips making matt laugh darkly. "we've been working so hard, haven't we, baby?" matt coos with fake sympathy for your whines as frank stretches you.
"s-so fuckin' good, frank," you whine. "wanna bounce on it."
that all it takes frank for his control to snap. "you wanna bounce on me? you fuckin' bounce then, sweetheart," he encourages roughly. he holds your hips as you work your way up and down his length, your release starting to puddle at his base. the coarse hair at his pubic bone makes you whine when you grind all the way down, brushing your clit just right.
the two of you set a steady rhythm, but it isn't enough for frank. he grabs the back of your bra and yanks it apart, tossing the fabric to the floor. his hands immediately find your nipples and he makes it his mission to make you whine. "fuck, these tits are so perfect...shame that matt can't fully appreciate them," frank grunts. "i'm not sure, frank. i appreciate them every night, like you wish you could."
when you catch a glimpse of matt, he's enjoying the sounds of the show with one hand around his beer bottle and the other stroking his cock. the grunts and moans from you both, the wet slap of your hips meeting his, the staggered breathing that fills the room - it all encourages matt's pace in his own hand.
you clench at the sight, making frank groan. "s-shit, honey, you do that again and i'm gonna cum, i swear," he grunts out, using a hand on your hip to bounce you faster while the other pinches at your nipple. your nails dig into frank's chest as you brace yourself, sinking down completely to cum around him, your fluttering cunt making his hips falter as he empties himself inside you.
the sound of matt finishing all over his hand gets the attention of both of you. feeling completely weak, your chest meets frank's as you both catch your breath. he softens inside you slowly, but even then his cock is still impressive.
"y'know, sweetheart...that was a pretty good lesson matt taught you. maybe our next one can be a group project."
contents: smut !! established matt murdock x reader but fem!reader fucks frank, voyeurism (matt is present), dub-con (no explicit consent but reader is into it), super brief blood mention, reader cries a little, not set at any timeframe in particular
feedback is appreciated, i've never really written smut before 😠and thank you for reading!
a heavy thud on the fire escape was nothing new since living with matt. you barely flinched at the sound anymore, knowing that it's usually just him climbing in the window after taking one too many hits throughout the night. you hear the window open and close, not paying mind to the quiet grunts from the living room. "matt just needs me to play nurse for a little bit, then i can get him into bed," you think. easy peasy.
stepping out of the bedroom in your pajamas, you gasp at the sight of matt slumped in one of your kitchen chairs. a man that you've come to hear a lot about stands next to him, hungry gaze eating you up with a stern look on his face. "wow...you're coming home to a treat every night and you don't even know it," he scoffs to matt.
"are you okay?" your voice is tight and quiet as you talk to matt, keeping your eyes on frank the whole time. a crack in matt's helmet and blood on his temple catch your eye. "you're...you're bleeding."
"he's fine, doll, but i don't think he's in any condition to take care of you tonight," he shakes his head, walking closer. "and that's such a waste when you're in this cute little number," he hooks a finger in the neckline of your top, pulling it forward to peek inside. the lace bra does just enough to hide the sight of your nipples, but not enough to hide how stiff they are from the attention.
"does he really deserve all this?" he teases as he turns back to matt. "she's got the prettiest color on, y'know...it would really be a shame. you feel like sharin', red?"
it would really be terrifying if the cocky look on his face didn't make you press your thighs together in the little cotton sleep shorts you have on. with the way matt can hear your heartbeat and smell the arousal from you, he can practically read your mind.
"i don't think she'll mind." matt huffs out. "will you, sweetheart?"
now the edge of the kitchen table bites into your hipbones as you take every devastating thrust from frank. you arch in his grasp while your eyes stay on matt where he sits, just listening to every mewl spilling from your lips.
he threw the shreds of what was once your pajama set to the floor, lace underwear pushed off to the side while he's got you bent over. this is sick, this is wrong...but god does it feel good.
"jesus, red...dunno how you leave her alone every night," frank groans, heavy balls slapping against your clit as one hand stings against your ass in a hard slap. "cunt's just pullin' me in like it needs me, you been takin' care of her?" he teases, hands pulling you open to spit down to where the two of you meet.
your hands scramble for purchase against the wooden table, nails biting into your palms with your arms in front of you. it's only when frank grabs your chin and forces you to face forward that you're snapped out of the cock-drunk daze he's put you in.
"you gotta thank him, baby. he was runnin' his mouth out there, 's the only reason i'm puttin' the work in on this pretty pussy," frank growls into your ear, holding your chin to face matt. "go ahead, say it."
"t-thank you- fuck! thank you, m-matt..." you sputter out with tears welling up your vision.
frank lets out a deep laugh, shaking his head. "atta girl, let him hear you," he lets your face go, hands finding your hips. "you keep bein' so good and i'll drag red home every night if this is my reward...maybe i'll even let him join next time."
hello! this is my very first post after being a long time lurker on tumblr. likes and reblogs are always appreciated, never expected 💕🦢 contents: andrew 'pope' cody x fem!reader, possibly ooc!pope, domestic!pope, no 18+ content in this post - enjoy!
all work on this blog is made without the use of AI.
crafty!reader making her own clothes and getting excited to show andrew - "andy!" you squeal as the front door opens, untangling yourself from the balls of yarn scattered all over the couch, planting a quick kiss on his cheek and taking a step back to hold up the lopsided sweater you've been working on.
"i'm done!" he looks at the baby blue sweater in your hands; one sleeve slightly longer than the other, a purple pocket on the left and a pink on the right. he give you a small smile, reaching out to touch the knitted yarn. "looks pretty, sweetheart. love it."
crafty!reader's apartment that andrew finds...overwhelming at first. every free surface is covered in pieces of you. the walls lined with artworks and photos in handmade frames, windowsills with hand thrown vases you made during a pottery class last summer, pictures and notes and doodles jammed in the frame of the mirror in your bedroom. the colors and clutter seem overwhelming at first, but he loves to see the passion that you put into your projects, he finds it endearing to see how proud you are of your work (and he likes to keep fresh flowers from him in your vases at all times).
crafty!reader getting better about cleaning up after themselves. andrew is a very tidy man, known for rarely having things out of place so when he moves in, it's definitely an adjustment. the paint bottles on the kitchen table, the yarn and thread strands that are scattered depending on whatever you're currently sewing, the minuscule paper clippings after your scrapbooking sessions. he gets antsy when he sees what gets left behind even when you try your best to clean. it takes only a couple weeks to see that it bothers him (despite him not saying anything directly), but you try to make sure that it's one more thing that doesn't irk him when he walks in the door.
crafty!reader making andrew a handmade birthday card. you would have decorated the apartment and gone the whole nine yards, but you didn't want to be so extra for a day he tends to ignore. when you hand him the sparkly card, he doesn't say anything at first. 'maybe i overstepped, was it too much?' but he cuts those thoughts off with a gentle but tight hug. never once has he felt so appreciated and seen, especially when he knows how much love goes into your projects. "d'ya like it?" you whisper, and he confirms with a tight nod. "love it, honey. thank you."
crafty!reader not skipping out when it comes to decorating for the holidays. paper hearts hanging from the ceiling in february for valentine's day, or asking him with a sweet smile to gut your pumpkin in october so you can carve it because "it's so icky and cold, andy! and i don't wanna get the guts under my nails, i just painted them," to which he sighs and rolls his sleeves up (but don't let that fool you, he's done things so much worse with his hands). his favorite work to see you display is helping you hang up the handmade ornaments on the christmas tree. little felt stockings that you beaded on the couch next to him and wooden slices on twine that you painted with beautiful snowy scenes. the smile on your face when you see your work on display makes a permanent smile live on his face for the day.
crafty!reader not checking the time in the middle of a project. andrew waits on and couch mindlessly half-watching tv and waiting for you to wrap up. it's a little after 11 when he glances at that kitchen table and sees your head slumped into your palm, half asleep with a paintbrush in your other hand. the tv turns off and he walks over, taking it out of your hand and dropping it in the water cup in front of you. he gently lifts you from the chair despite your mumbling and rubbing at your eyes, bringing you to the bedroom with a quiet "s'okay, sweetheart. it'll be waiting for you tomorrow."
thank you for reading! please excuse any typos and feel free to message me with ideas 💕
