#‘it’s just that ill always chose you’

[https-murdock]

All Yours - Matt Murdock

summary: after a bad day, all you can think about is Matt - all he can think about he making you relax.

word count: 835 (lil one!)

warnings: smut with plot! (i’m getting better at adding plot to porn lol), oral f receiving, super fluff

note: i feel like ive used this pic for a fic before ?? so if anyone knows which one let me know and ill change it lol <3 enjoy

Walking in through the apartment door, you’d expect for the weight of the world to fall from your shoulders - but when you don’t see Matt’s glasses on the side, next to his cane, things feel a lot heavier.

“Matt?” You call, dropping everything near the door and collapsing onto the couch, mind spinning with things that have happened through the day. How much you’d give to see him.

Just as the tears were starting to prick at your eyes, the door flings open with that usual sense of urgency he always has.

“Hi sweetheart, sorry got caught up-“ Matt says, starting to explain what his day entailed but in the blink of an eye you’re in front of him, arms wrapped around his shoulders and head against his chest just listening to his breathing. “Woah, hey… y’ok?” he smiles, and he can hear the way your heart starts to race at the question.

“Yeah just… bad day.” You say, cheeks squished into his chest, his gentle heartbeat soothing you slightly.

Dropping his cane to the floor and throwing his glasses to the kitchen side, he scoops you up into his arms, bridal style.

“Missed you.” You mutter, feeling suddenly weightless under his strength.

“I’ll make you feel better,” He starts, and by the time you open your eyes he’s laying you down on the bed, “Missed you all day. wanna make you feel so much better.” You wonder if he’s more so just telling himself what he’s going to do with you.

“You just take whatever you want, i’ll just lie here.” You giggle, giving him his free pass to have his way with you. You could always say that to him in confidence, knowing that no matter what he chose to do, your safety was always at the forefront of his mind.

“No no, shhh, it’ss about you.” He lets his hand find your mouth, gently covering it and keeping you quiet. “Let me do that, you don’t say a word. just wanna hear those pretty little moans.”

His fingers dance up your waist, lifting your shirt over your head, and if you listen closely you can hear the small whispers of praise he’s speaking into your skin, lips trailing across your stomach.

Next thing you know, his soft touches have brought your clothes to the floor, leaving you stark in front of him - body begging for more from him. He’s in his boxers, head nestled between your legs, leaving little kisses splayed across your thighs.

“Matt-“ You begin, almost forgetting he set the rule of no words to come from you, before he speaks again, “sweetheart, shhh, just let me do this. lay back, i’ll relax you.” He giggles, and the display of happiness from him almost relaxes you enough to finish right there.

You let your head hit the pillows behind you, finally feeling him place a slight kiss to your clit, a gasp escaping your chest at such a soft feeling.

Finally, Matt lets his tongue delve deeper to where he is craving to be - licking a gentle yet strong stripe from top to bottom, his tongue finishing on your clit by leaving behind a gentle suck. You can tell he’s relishing in the sound of the moans he’s already grasping from you.

“You’re still the most gorgeous person i’ve ever seen, even when you’re so wet for me.” He says, reaching up to pick at both nipples at the same time, earning a very loud “Fuck, Matt.” from your chest.

He continues his gentle assault on you, sucking and kitten-licking on your clit and moaning as he’s tasting as much of you as he can access - the vibrations of his low voice running up your spine and setting off goosebumps across your skin.

“Oh-Shit…” You moan, voice running higher pitched at the end as he lets his teeth graze across your folds, your hands finding his hair and gripping.

You pull softly on his dark hair, eliciting a moan from him again - your body telling you that it was inching closer to that mind blowing orgasm he always gave you.

“You’re so beautiful when you’re close.” he’s saying, hands moving yours from his hair to clasp them down at your sides, his fingers intertwining with yours.

Again, he grazes his teeth so softly you can barely feel it across your clit, and that’s when you snap - falling into an ear ringing, eye rolling orgasm, back arching so far off the bed that Matt has to crawl up slightly to keep up with where you’re taking him.

As you start to come down from your high, Matt is holding himself above you, muscles rippling with his strength.

Your ears come to, and the sounds of all the traffic outside bring you back to earth.

“Can’t believe you’re all mine.” He trails off, almost sounding like he wants to say more but can’t find the words, until your mind is ready to speak, “All yours.”

— tags —

@lambmurdock @parker-murdock @silas-aeiou @blushingrn @audreyclimbs

[zaiinab]

why would she ever do this to me

[spearxwind]

Happy 10th birthday to Cercerion!

OUGHHH UR RIGHT CERCIE IS 10 YEARS OLD NOW !!!!!!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY BABY BOY BELOVEDEST DID NOTHING WRONG EVER IN HIS WHOLE LIFE !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[feroluce]

So I went to the wiki page for the henghill Bullet & Brain mission of 2.2 looking for some dialogue I had missed and

a) I found something incredibly tasty that slotted into some other thoughts I'd been having, more on that on another day, and

b) I saw this super fun little trivia at the bottom, which!

I knew Penacony characters like Boothill took a lot of inspirations from old movies, but I didn't realize it was even in his and Dan Heng's relationship, that's so cool!!

It fits them very well, it's such a fun reference. "Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid" was an old buddy Western film (from 1969- nice) about a pair of outlaws. Butch Cassidy was the leader of a gang, and described as clever, affable, and talkative. Meanwhile, his closest companion, the Sundance Kid, was known as a man of few words.

Cassidy's original birth name was much more plain, but similar to Boothill, he took on a new moniker when he became an outlaw. "Cassidy" had been the last name of his beloved mentor, who taught him how to shoot and ride. And Sundance Kid was known as he was because Sundance was the name of his hometown, and it was the only place that had ever managed to catch and jail him, back when he'd been younger (also similar to Dan Heng, but ouch).

These two stick together like glue throughout the length of the film- through Cassidy's leadership of the gang being challenged, through a train robbery gone wrong, through being pursued by mercenaries, and even through fleeing to Bolivia and trying to start over together.

I don't want to say too much more, since the mission title is referencing one specific movie that I've never seen. I kinda wanna watch it now, though, just to see the inspiration that went into Boothill and Dan Heng and how they get along. I just think it's really sweet that these two were literally made to be the best of bros, how lovely is that. 💕

[ourhouseishaunted]

my brain for the past like 2 weeks

[tariah23]

Twitter is literally just… Liveleak/ rotten.com all over again. You cannot go on there even casually without running into fucking assault shit, animal abuse (a few zoo clips just went viral within the last two days……….. TWO had been rec to me because of twitters atrocious algorithm that just puts literally anything on your feed. I don’t really go on my feed like that anyway so I miss out on most stuff. I scrolled by so fast🗿), child abuse, hardcore gore/murders, and accidents, literally anything, man.

[secretlyofthefeywild]

i yearn for domestic life with my best friend

not a romantic life

i don't need to fall in love, not in the romantic sense at least

i want to have a person

a person that i know will always be my person

that they will love and cherish me

just as much as i love and cherish them

a person to come home to

a person to cook dinner for

a person to love deeply, intimately, platonically

i yearn for domestic life with my best friend

[purpldawne]

im gonna try redoing some of my old school pieces. just cuz.

[oathofpromises]

My heart found solace in your radiant sun.Through the tapestry of existence,entwined,Destiny's threads weaving our souls as one.

[martyrbat]

[ID: The title panel for 'The Bat-man' and 'The Case of the Chemical Syndicate'. In it, a mysterious silhouette is standing on a rooftop as they look out at the skyscrapers in the background. The silhouette has giant wings that resembles a bat! They flare out on each side of the figure as their human-esque legs and head stick out from it. The sky is light blue as the narration explains: The "Bat-man", a mysterious and adventurous figure fighting for righteousness and apprehending the wrongdoer, in his lone battle against the evil forces of society… His identity remains unknown. END ID]

detective comics #27 | (#627 reprint)

(full comic & ID below cut!)

[ID:

We see a young man sitting in a blue chair and smoking a pipe as an older man sits across from him. The narration reads: The home of Commissioner Gordon, who at the moment is entertaining his young socialite friend, Bruce Wayne. — Bruce is wearing an amber, windowpane checked suit and has his black hair neatly combed back. Gordon, the older man with silver hair and glasses, wears a white suit with black lines forming a herringbone pattern across it. Bruce has his chin resting against his palm in boredom as he asks, "Well, commissioner, anything exciting happening these days?" Gordon responds, "No-o – except this fellow they call the 'Bat-man' puzzles me!" He's interrupted by his phone ringing.

Gordon talks into the phone, "Hello… What's that? Lambert, The Chemical King… Stabbed to death? His son's finger prints on the knife? – I'll be right over!" He hangs up the phone and tells Bruce, "Talk about something exciting… Old Lambert has been murdered at his mansion… I'm going there now. Like to come along?" Bruce nonchalantly says, "Oh well, nothing else to do, might as well." They speed off to Lambert's residence, where they greet the police sergeant. He leads them to the scene of the crime and after a thorough examination, Gordon begins to talk to the murder suspect: 'Young' Lambert, who's already insisting that he wasn't the one that killed his father!

Gordon orders the distressed man to calm down and explain what happened. Young Lambert wipes at his forehead nervously as he reluctantly elucidates, "Well sir… Tonight I came home early, and as I was passing the library I heard a groan... I rushed in and there was my father lying on the floor, with a knife in him! … And as I rushed in, I got the impression of something leaping out of the window… I also noticed that father's safe was opened… I pulled the knife out of my father's body, and turned him toward me just in time to hear him say 'contract'... And then he died. That's how I got my fingerprints on the knife… That's the truth, commissioner!" Two panels accompany Young Lambert's words. It shows him finding his father's body by the open window before cradling his father close to him. 'Old' Lambert vaguely warns his son about the contract before dying in his arms.

Gordon raises his hand to his chin in thought before asking, "Hmm! Did your dad have any enemies or people who had an interest in his business activities?" The man hesitantly answers, "... not that I know of, except his three former business partners... Let's see, they were Steven Crane, Paul Rogers and Alfred Stryker." Before Gordon can continue to question him, he's interrupted by another cop. He's alerted, "Commissioner, there's a man named Steve Crane who wants to speak to Old Lambert... When I told him that Old Lambert was murdered he got very excited and wanted to speak to you!"

Gordon takes the phone and asks what's the trouble. Crane hastily explains, "Yesterday, Mr. Lambert called and told me he received an anonymous threat on his life... today I received the same... That's why I called up... and I'm afraid I'll be next... what shall I do?" Gordon orders, "Wait… And do not let anybody in… We'll be over soon as we can – what's that, Bruce?" He hangs up as Bruce Wayne's actions distract him. Bruce – who's been silently observing this whole time – smacks his tobacco pipe against his open palm, dumping the ashes onto the floor of the crime scene. He apathetically announces, "Ho hum! I'll leave you here to finish your work… I'm going home."

Meanwhile, Crane sits in his home library with a feeling of impending danger as he waits… Before a gunman suddenly breaks in! He shoots Crane dead without hesitation before stealing a paper from his safe and leaving through the window! He joins his partner on the roof, who checks if the murderer got the paper. The narration reads: ... As the two men leer over their conquest, they do not notice a third menacing figure standing behind them… It is the "Bat-Man!" — The cowardly criminals recoil in shock at the masked man. He wears a cowl that conceals the top half of his face and has bat like ears sticking out. His arms are crossed as he broadly stands with his legs spread. On his chest is a bat emblem and he has a big, dramatic cape draped from his shoulders that flare out – it too resembling a bat.

But suddenly the Bat-Man punches the accompanying partner, knocking him unconscious! He grabs the murderer in a headlock and with a mighty heave, he sends the burly criminal flying through the air and off the roof! Commissioner Gordon and his men are just arriving at the scene – the commissioner announcing it's the Bat-Man and to 'get him', prompting the other cops to start firing at the mysterious stranger! The Bat-Man flees from the scene at once, but not before quickly snatching the paper the criminals stole from Crane's safe!

He escapes to his red sedan and reads the paper he took from the killers before a grim smile stretches across his lips. He speeds off to an unknown destination! During which, the butler informs Gordon and his men that Crane has been murdered. Gordon tells another cop, "That's two dead partners out of the four that received threatening notes. The other two must have received them too… Let's go to Rogers next!"

Meanwhile Rogers, who has learned of Lambert's death by news broadcast, has already gone to the neighboring laboratory of his erstwhile partner, Alfred Stryker… — Rogers greets Stryker's assistant, Jennings. Jennings invites the distraught man inside before clubbing him in the head and tying him up in the laboratory's basement! Jennings schemes to himself, "Heh! Heh! One more out of the way – soon I'll control everything!"

Rogers wakes to find himself in a trap and calls Jennings a fiend! Jennings laughs again as he taunts, "This is the gas-chamber I use to kill guinea pigs, to experiment with – but now you are my guinea pig! When the glass lid covers you entirely, gas will come through the jet and kill you! I'm going down now to turn the gas on… Sleep well!" he leaves with one last giggle and with a pull of the brake to cause the glass chamber to start to descend!

But at that very moment, the Bat-Man jumps through an open transom! He seizes a wrench from a table and leaps for the gas-chamber, barely managing to get inside before it seals itself against the floor! Swiftly, the Bat-Man plugs the gas jet with a handkerchief. He unties Rogers and with a powerful swing, he uses the wrench to break the glass!

Jennings returns and is startled at seeing the Bat-Man! He reaches for his gun but the masked vigilante 'greets' him with a flying tackle and punch, knocking the murderous assistant unconscious!

Meanwhile, Stryker has heard the crash of the gas-chamber being broken. He enters the laboratory and finds Rogers and his assistant, failing to notice the Bat-Man has secluded himself in the shadows. Rogers exclaims that Stryker's assistant tried to kill him! Stryker responds, "So he didn't get you after all… Well, I'll finish you and then throw your body in the acid tank below." He pulls a knife and goes to attack Rogers before the Bat-Man springs into action!

He grabs Stryker's hand harshly, forcing him to drop the knife in shock! Rogers asks the masked man why did Stryker try to kill him as the Bat-Man holds the would-be murderer by his collar to prevent his escape. He explains, "This rat was behind the murders! You see, I learned that you, Lambert, Crane, and Stryker were once partners in the Apex Chemical Corporation. Stryker, who wished to be sole owner, but having no ready cash made secret contracts with you, to pay a certain sum of money each year until he owned the business. He figured by killing you and stealing the contracts, he wouldn't have to pay this money."

Rogers can't help but to admire, "Hmm, a very clever scheme, and being the contracts were a strict secret between the four of us, our heirs or the outside world wouldn't know a thing about them… But how did you know all this?" The Bat-Man pulls a rolled up piece of paper out of nowhere before simply stating, "I secured this contract from one of his hired killers."

Suddenly, Stryker, with the strength of a madman, tears himself free from the grasp of the Bat-Man… — He shoves himself away in an attempted escape but the Bat-Man knocks him off-balance with a right hook punch to the man's face! He stumbles backwards and crashes through the flimsy railing, falling into the tank of acid. Bat-Man solemnly remarks that it's 'a fitting ending for his kind'. Rogers turns to the mysterious man, starting to ask how could he ever thank him, but the Bat-Man is already fleeing by the skylight window.

The next day, young Bruce Wayne is again a visitor at the commissioner's house… Who has just finished telling Bruce the latest exploits of the "Bat-Man". — Bruce is skeptical of the story, telling Gordon, "Hmm! A very lovely fairy-tale, commissioner, indeed." After Bruce departs, the commissioner mumbles to himself, "Bruce Wayne is a nice young chap – but he certainly must lead a boring life… Seems disinterested in everything."

Bruce returns to his home and goes to his bedroom. A short while later, the door slowly opens, revealing to us Bruce Wayne's greatest secret and something that would surely amaze all… That he himself is the Bat-Man!

END ID]

[tragedykery]

I love taituk they’re so funny. they’re simultaneously really cool and capable and. kind of a loser. wet cat of a woman (not actually a woman). a dykefag AND a fagdyke. they can’t tell when people are flirting with them and suaveness is Not in their vocabulary. everyone wants them and they’re involved with quite literally every crew member their age. their reaction to there being “men’s work” and “women’s work” is “I will simply do everything. all of the work.” they’re fine with the concept & reality of death but thinking about killing somebody with their own hands makes them physically ill. they will quite literally heal their enemies so they don’t die. they’re eldestsiblingcore but only see their siblings like. twice a year. they could be stabbed and bleeding out and their only reaction would be “ugh now my favourite jacket will be stained :/”. they don’t know what’s going on at any given moment. they’ve been permanently banned from the ship’s kitchen even though they’re the captain. by god they’re even transgender. they’ve even got long hair

[1980ssunflower]

everyone look at my stupid silly husband 🥺💖

[dellinah]

I recently lost my best friend to cancer, and words cannot describe how incredibly painful every waking hour has been since I got the news.

They say time heals all, and I can only hope that the memories that suffocate me now will soon become nostalgic treasures that will soothe my longing.

Right now, it fucking hurts tho

And grief is just a weird feeling. It's trying to face a reality that you cannot comprehend, much less accept; but it forces itself onto you regardless, bc there's no way back.

No way out.

This how it is now.

But really, in trying to process this new reality, it has dawned upon me just how... weird, it is.

Just how weird it all feels to me.

I still know his birthday by heart.

And when it comes around, I know I will think of what gift I should get him for a second - before remembering he's gone, and crying all over again over a wound that never truly healed.

I still know his favorite shows, and I know that he collected funko pops of them. There's a list on my phone with the ones he already had, so that I knew to look for new ones when shopping around.

The messages we sent are still on my phone. Still among the most recent ones, for now.

And when I click on them, the last words we ever exchanged (and will ever exchange) stare back at me. Just like they're any other ordinary message, unaware of the massive weight they carry to me.

As does his profile picture, a frozen image of what he will forever look like in my mind.

Spared the burden and the blessing of aging beyond his mid twenties.

The audio messages are still there, too.

His voice still calls me, by name, every time I hit play. Like an echo of what once was, a voice I will never hear again in this lifetime.

But the recordings remain.

And it hurts me so, so bad.

Yet, I play it over and over again.

Maybe hoping the words will be different at one point, like he's just recorded something new.

But by now, I know each audio by heart.

Over and over and over again.

I still know by heart all of the inside jokes that only he and I knew. And now, I have no one else to tell them to.

When I see a pair of blue pants, or finding nemo merch, or a news reporter wearing yellow; I'll have to keep it to myself from now on.

Because no one else in the world gets why that is funny to me.

Or why it was funny to us.

It's just, I didn't expect everything to vanish when you did.

But I didn't expect just how much what you left behind would hurt.

Your birthday. Our inside jokes. The recipe we always made together. The road where we'd drive at night almost every weekend. The shows we watched together that you'll never see the end of. The path we walked home after school as teens. Your favorite color. The book I borrowed and never gave back.

You are gone, but so much of you remains with me.

It's like a letter adressed to an empty house.

What do I do with it all now?

[everdreamtree]

.

[apyrrambles]

everytime I think about Judas and Al i take +10 psychic damage

[acid-ixx]

a loving family, an unpalatable desire

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

a/n: would anyone hear me out if i ever wrote romantic yan! bruce (ft. platonic yan! batfam AND romantic yan clark kent alongside the superfam ofc) with a neglected spouse reader... because uhm, i've been thinking about it lately just yk... so anyways PLSPLSPLS send in asks about this, ive been thinking about it so much lately.

imagine wanting to raise a family so badly with a man who adopts problem children as a side hustle. you're not some invasive spouse, you've always been good, always been loving, so... so accepting, never questioned where or how he picked them up from the side of the streets, never once complaining about the hickeys on his neck or the once neat tussles of his hair now tangled accompanying lipstick stains on his white suit.

you love your children, you tell yourself all the time. you love them, you love bruce— even if he doesn't love you. you said it in your vows, despite it being scripted, despite your family finally sighing in relief in the sidelines at finally being able to sell you off to one of the wealthiest man in the world, rather than being wasting off under their care— your vows are real.

you wanted someone to love you, unconditionally, so viscerally eternal that it eats you up.

really, all you wanted was to play that fantasy life of trophy house spouses. all you wished for was a loving, healthy relationship. the american dream: the picture perfect family frames, your husband kissing you on the cheek as he leaves for work, your children bickering at the dining room, with the scent of homemade meals wafting about the vicinity. all you wanted was the warmth in your chest to flicker like candlelights. all you dreamed about was that domestic life, an escape from the abusive household you were raised in.

yet the manor is too cold, too unforgiving for a soul such as yours.

the longer you stay inside claustrophobic, yet oh-so large hallways, the quicker you drown in a neverending pool of self-hatred.

but you're not allowed to show them your sufferings. they've been through much worse, you tell yourself. they've suffered more, and as what good spouses do, as what you're taught, you stay silent, enabling them to turn you into their own emotional punching bag.

you only allow yourself to cry at the dead of the night, under the sheets of your too-cold blanket and your too-hot pillows. when the manor is filled with deathly silence and a looming sense of dread and ill fitting thoughts of ifs and when they'll come back in one piece, will you grant yourself temporary respite; worry for a family who never even called you their parent.

yet you've always been so considerate. despite the pang in your chest every time bruce flirts with anymore potential love interest at a gala, you chose to instead monitor your chaotic children, who have always never bat an eye on you despite you always gazing lovingly at them.

you know of their interests, they don't know yours, yet you still give them extravagant gifts on their birthdays, with tired, yet glinting eyes, and a silent excuse to return to your room; one separate from bruce.

you know of bruce's hardships, but you don't push too hard, don't force him to talk, only provide him your silence and an offer to serve him dinner; all the time he refuses without looking at you. you give him comfort only if he ever allows you, only if he allows his walls to crumble— but not even his spouse can amount to a warm, crackling fireplace. to him, you're probably only a matchstick under the deadbeat glaze of the snow in a winter night.

maybe that's why you're such a ghost in the manor, stalking through the hallways, looking out for any of your children in case they come across you with any injuries. maybe that's why eventually your resolve weakened.

and maybe the absence of familial love led you to find comfort in another man's arm.

''til death do us part,' is such a tragic saying in your case, because you know it in your fragile heart that bruce's love for you was never alive in the first place. and yet you allow him to play you like a fiddle, allow him to slowly allow you to slip away from his nonexistent grasp.

and now, you're a stand-in parent for clark's son, jon, after the tragic loss of his wife. now, your world seems a lot less bleaker, as you play the fantasy of a loving house spouse, fully abandoning the life you left behind, a life you've never been gifted with until now. you want to feel guilty, you want to feel absolutely terrible but the heartache of neglect has become too much and all you do was allow clark to warm you up each night, kissing away your tears and spooning your deep-seated anxieties away.

you don't let the past eat you up, not when the present is too perfect, too freeing, too delusionally beautiful.

your son, jon provides you every joy a parent could have. parent's day gifts, heartfelt letters at every nook and cranny of your shared bedroom with clark— even reading him bedtime stories, allowing him to sleep in your lap after he slowly nods off, with clark knocking softly on polished wooden doors, greeting you with a loving kiss on the lips and a bouquet of your favorite flowers in hand—

it's everything a parent wants, needs even.

and you're everything clark, and especially jon wants, needs in their life.

so it's such a stupid mistake, really. a slip of the tongue, a too-enthusiastic smile, incredibly bright, shining eyes. it's not jon's fault, you still love him either way. but it's an error still— one a complicated matter at hand, so dreadful for you, that jon accidentally, all-too-suddenly, mentions you as his parent to damian.

a loving, wonderful parent, he says, with a picture of you in his wallet shoved right in front of his friend's face.