#ditzy reblogging | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

acid-ixx · 6 months ago

Text

brutus: both arms cradle you now (villain au concept)

ft. yandere! harley quinn (brief mentions of the poison ivy and catwoman) x gn villain! reader

— masterlist !

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

"so, you're saying you hate the batman, for personal reasons, cupcake?"

you've never expected to have a therapy session with one of your mentors who took you in.

harley quinn, the girl who took you into her abode right after she found you bloodied and laying in a crimson bath of your own one faithful night; death your only comfort.

she, alongside her other company, are well-known people within gotham's criminal gallery. she's known to be obsessed with her ex back then, chasing after his toxic love despite hers being consistently thrown away, she's been seen fighting, or even sometimes helping your father when he's wearing the cowl just to find the joker, she dons clown makeup and displays athletic talent for combat—

she's not the type you'd expect to be well-versed with a person's mental health, with her playful attitude and bouncy steps, but with the way she notices your uncomfortable body language whenever you stumble upon the bat, or how you simmer in silent rage watching him care for his vigilante partners during times they get injured; you'd have to admit she's more than qualified to ask you sensitive questions nobody ought to ask a violent criminal like you.

you don't know it, but you share far more similarities with the girl than you thought; chasing after love never once reciprocated, she has every right to know what makes you so triggered seeing the vigilante every damn time he's within the vicinity.

she has every right because she's the one who saved you when you thought your life would be all over.

when you believed that that day would be the time your soul would leave your body, you'd suddenly awoke to her gentle coos and her retelling her company on how she stumbled upon you. and another woman's palms are on your heated forehead, an unnatural shade of green, yet she helps swipes away your hair for your head as she listens intently to harley's story; she gazes at you just as softly as the other. she's seated right beside a familiar face, too, with cropped, jet-black hair and cat-eyes. it was her expensive duvet that you lay on.

it was there that they coddled you collectively.

they've been your saviors then, and your mentors ever since. it's what you've never asked for, to be cared for by criminals who fought on the opposite side from your fathers, but you've been craving affection your entire life that you'd never once complain about.

now, in the same apartment, her question lingers in the back of your head, you feel goosebumps rise on the topmost layer of your skin, and your heartbeats hasten against the cage of your chest.

despite that, she merely looks over at you, her eyes held a calculating gaze. it's not exactly nerve-wracking like batman's whenever you had your occasional encounters with him, but you can tell she's psychoanalyzing every aspect of your being.

like a therapist for most, but to you, she does so because you know she cares.

gone was the ditzy smile she likes to wear on her playful lips, or the active, bouncy lilt she has whenever she sits upon the swivel chair to talk to you. she stares at you, with piercing blue eyes and furrowed brows, nitpicking every reaction you conjure.

it seems like now's the time she wants to open up with such a sensitive topics.

especially right after the incident where you cried after watching batman speak to the youngest robin, with the sweetest, most poisonous tone you've ever heard from the man. it makes you want to vomit watching it, makes you wish to shrivel outside-in your costume and burn until you're mere embers.

you ask yourself, 'do i hate him?'

truth is...

god, you wish you do. but you're different now.

you have new people to care for you, now and you'd rather throw away that heart wrenching life you had back in the past. batman is nobody to you now, you wish you could lead yourself to believe that he was just your usual opponent, nothing more, nothing less.

yet you merely shift on your cushioned seat, ignoring the blaring telltale signs in your head to stay silent, and reply to her albeit the unsureness in your tone. your words taste bitter, sour, salty, and no way sweet. every unpleasant flavor swirls in your tongue in a cacophony of emotions; and you wish to cry the longer you speak, tongue-tied and wishing to will away the ache in your chest.

"i don't hate him, harley, at least not anymore... it's different, i don't know what to feel about him. maybe it's rage, maybe i want to exact petty revenge on him because of my past with him. don't know. it's all complicated..."

"if it's not hatred, then it's something else, no? you feel something deep within for him, don'tcha, sweetheart? you can't lie to me, you're hurt, and scarred, because of him and his other vigilante partners, i can tell."

she replies, quicker than you do, with empathy and comfort laced in every syllable of her words, and you're taken aback at the kindness and understanding. your eyes flutter away from her worried ones, and you look down to your clenched palms and feel the callouses from all the harsh training you've conditioned yourself to endure, dismissing the way she stands from her chair to walk over to you.

hurt... that's true. you're hurt, and all the emotional scars that lay within you are still open, bleeding, and it aches deeply. every time you build new memories with these people, the pain of the past overpowers whatever improvement you make in life; as if it's haunting and taunting you.

when she kneels down to the level of your lap, just right beneath your vision so you could see her beyond the layers of hair that cover your watery eyes, you see her soft gaze and find her dainty fingers holding your palms, ones you didn't notice dig nails deep into skin until the rivulets of blood escape.

when she squeezes your hands, you follow along the patterns of inhaling and exhaling through her squeezing, a silent session with her to help you calm down from your foreboding emotions; your hastened breaths and brimming tears. you've been so used to ignoring all your emotions that you forget what panic attacks felt like in so long, not until you discover that you've been having small bouts of it every day; not until you realize how it's always your mentors comforting you through every one of your silent sufferings instead of ridiculing you for it.

"calm down, cupcake... i just wanted to know why, so i, alongside the girls, could help you through your emotions. what type of mentors are we if we can't help you, no? you've been so tense lately, we couldn't even see your cute, little smile these days. so don't forget you're still allowed to cry, sweetie... let all your emotions out, 'kay?"

she speaks, with a gentle timbre in her voice, and you allow her to embrace your form, one you didn't realize was shivering until now. yet you still bury your head further into her body without shame and allow yourself respite for once; allow yourself autonomy to be controlled by repressed pain and sorrow you've tried to bury deep into the marrows of your bones and the cages of your heart.

and now you realize why, why you're all crying all the same like last time, and you simply cry for longer at the realization.

because what contrasts with love, was indifference, and never hatred. you once loved batman, bruce, with all your heart because you're his kid, and your momma taught you to love without any expectations. but he sees you with indifference, with nothingness. no care, no emotions or opinions about you, unlike harley's who holds you in her arms and comforts you throughout your lengthened crying.

he doesn't even look at you. the thought bothers you more than ever.

"it's— you're right," you whisper through your hiccups, burying your head further on her stomach as her right hand plays with the strands of your hair, scratching your scalp in a comfortable pattern. she hums as a reply, and allows you to continue.

"i'm hurt, harley... it's so painful just thinking... thinking about how much i'm in pain because of him... but he's, he's—"

"shh, you don't have to force yourself to open up anymore, sweetheart."

when she releases her hold on you, you let out an embarrassingly loud cry, hands swiftly trying to pull her back to embrace you; too desperate to let go, too paranoid that this is all a dream, you wish to sink into her warmth forever.

but she holds you back, just as quickly with her warm palms at your wet cheeks, and looks at you. like you're her savior, her peace, and her everything.

her next sentences satiate the foreboding hunger in your heart, one too starved, one that craved and wished to take what it never have.

she feeds you with love and affection too sweet that it rids the bitter taste in the back of your throat and the bile that slowly rises every time you reminisce.

"i get'cha, sweetie. you wanted something from him you can never have, and when he didn't give you that, it destroyed you entirely you felt like you can never pick yourself right back. been there, done that—"

"—but look at where we're both at now! living the best of our lives, doing fun, risky heists and making ourselves happy with what we think is good for us, no? you get where i'm getting at, right?"

you don't. you feel like melting into her hands and never leaving. she gives and you take, take, and take everything she offers you.

and she knows you don't understand, so she continues rambling knowing you'd grasp into every word she says, not once breaking eye contact with you. she stares fondly, you gaze back reluctantly, unaccustomed to the affection your mentors shower you with. but you don't pull back, she becomes sad and sulky when you do.

you want her to be happy.

"sweetheart, i'm telling you the past is past! get him away from your mind and throw all the thoughts about him away! if you were nothing to him, then he should be nothing to you, easy as pie."

"you deserve better people in your life, like me, and pam, and selina. i can tell you're rough around the edges but that doesn't mean you should strip yourself away from any privilege to be cared for and loved for by people who love you as much as you love them. he's nothing to you now, alright? it's painful, but you can move on from him. i trust you can— you know why?"

harley questions you, with all the confidence in her tone, taking your head to lay it on her body again, positioning it so you could hear the buzz heartbeat, you bury yourself deeper into her warm body and nuzzle into fabric. your heart hastens, but it wasn't panic, it wasn't even fear or hurt, but a drive and motivation that burns deep inside of you; that this is what you always wanted, and needed to protect, and what she generously provided.

all her words echo through your head like it's the truth, your holy grail.

"you have us now, sweetheart. to love, to guide, and to protect you. we're everything you need now."

and you believe her like she's god.

just this once, you do. you're allowed to hope, to dream, and to finally feel special. to be embraced like the fantasies you had in the past, to be held and comforted through every gut wrenching experience, just as she does, now.

for once, you allow yourself to be loved, even if it means it's by the same hands that stain itself with blood, all shed in the glory of your name.

a/n: happy halloween! i was laying in bed and suddenly had thoughts about this. i don't like this drabble at all ngl erm 😭 this post is related to events prior to the out for blood chapter (idk if i should make it canon to the plot or not) and what i said in this fanart post. despite this not being my favorite piece of work, i like writing about other charactersn too though, especially when they're so soft to the mc. so yeah! if you guys like more of this, please do comment since idk what to feel about this.

1K notes · View notes

kesadoll · 2 months ago

Text

♡ CWS MDNI 3.8k ♡ brattyblack!reader, boss!shiu, coworker!toji, oral {f + m}, unprotected, d♡ggy, poor y/n gets manhandled over shiu's desk, it gets NASTY. {petnames: doll, baby, brat, slut. ♡}

♡ sum. you came back from a mission to get sent off on another, but before you went your boss & coworker had something to say about your attitude...

kesa's note just wanted to let it be known I made about 4 other drafts after this one but ended up coming back to this..... but it fed something in me i didn't know was hungry LMAOO i hope u like it :p asks & reblogs always welcome!

you walked down a series of halls, each step you took feeling like it drained what little energy you had left. you were covered in what you could only assume was blood, sweat, and mud.

see, you were…a spy of sorts. you’d go gather intel, beat up, and maybe kill someone if you were tasked to, maybe even just for fun. you were a wildcard and a headache for your poor boss, shiu.

you walked into his office, plopping yourself on the large couch that sat in the middle of the room and sprawling out. shiu was there, smoking his usual cigarette, shooting a glance at you as he tidied up some papers. “someone needs a shower,” he said, gesturing over to your dirtied clothes and the way your hair curled at your neck from sweat, his baritone like music to your ears.

you wanted to protest, but you knew better. talking back to shiu usually meant some type of harsh and unreasonable punishment, and you were far too exhausted so you resorted to a grumble. his gaze softened, seeing the exhaustion on your face. he felt guilty for sending you to a job by yourself, but he knew you could do it which is why he sent you anyway.

shiu took a long drag of his cigarette, smoke billowing from between his lips as he exhaled, “it was that bad?”

you nodded faintly, huffing, “didn’t think it would be soooo much work..” he chuckled at your pouting, finding it amusing. it was rare to see you in such a state, but you were much calmer than you usually were, and it saved shiu the headache.

he ashed his cigarette over the fancy-looking ashtray on his desk as he spoke, “you’re capable, that’s why i let you take the job. besides..” he paused, blowing a cloud of smoke towards you, “if you couldn’t handle it, you would’ve been dead the minute you walked in there.”

you lifted your head, your usual wide eyes sending metaphorical lasers right through shiu’s head. this was your normal attitude, kinda crazy and a tad ditzy, but you were extremely lethal and beyond just smart. “mmmh!” you grumbled, resting your head back again, “they almost made me lose a nail!”

shiu let out a sigh, shaking his head slightly at your usual attitude. sometimes, he wondered who's the bigger pain in the ass: you or him. he stubbed out his cigarette on the table, watching as the ashes fall to the floor. he leaned back on his chair, crossing his arms over his chest, a small smirk on his face, "you know, someday that crazy attitude of yours is gonna be the death of you."

“or you’re gonna be the death of me!” you kicked your legs, practically throwing a fit in your seat. “you’re the one who hired me off the street and sent me off to do your dirty work!” after his laugh filled the room, you went limp, being a total drama queen. “what was the main point of me going there anyway?”

he rolled his eyes at your dramatics, but he couldn’t help the smile on his face as he shook his head. “it’s like you never listen to a thing i tell you. i sent you to get intel on some freeloaders that crossed someone important. they’ve gone off the radar and i’m tired of hearing about it.”

“oh yeah!” you recounted, remembering what you came in here to tell shiu, “apparently the guy you wanted ran off to some island i’ve never heard about before. i wrote it down before i dealt with those mangy-lookin’ henchmen.” you pulled a small piece of paper out the pocket of your shorts. you couldn’t help but stretch momentarily, the exhaustion starting to get to you before you began to walk over to him.

shiu’s eyes wandered up and down your body, as you sauntered over towards him. you looked like a wreck, but still beautiful nonetheless.

“goddamn it.” he grumbled, snuffing out his cigarette before grabbing another one. he offered you one, knowing that sometimes after a mission like that you needed it more than he did. “i’ll send someone else to follow up then.”

you couldn’t help but pout, shaking your head at the cigarette as you sat on the desk in front of him. “why can’t i go?!” your voice was almost a whine.

shiu placed a comforting hand on your knee, its scarred digits giving it a gentle squeeze. despite how annoying you could be, you were cute, which made it worse knowing how you got his attention. “let’s use our critical thinking skills. you think i’m going to let you go to some island by yourself?”

he did have a fair point. he wanted as much information about where he was going to send you and since this was a new area and there were time constraints? going by yourself was absolutely out of the question. though you wanted to go, you loved how shiu protected you always.

“you could come with me! i’ve never gotten to see you in action,” you squeaked in defiance, trying to hide the heat you felt in your cheeks at his touch, “i bet you we both could deal without them no problem!”

shiu chuckled at your determination, his hand moving up your thigh slightly. you acted like a spoiled brat, and he found it endearing especially since he knew it was his fault anyway. he lit his new cigarette and took a long drag, smoke billowing from between his lips as he spoke.

“you know i can’t do that, doll,” his dark eyes bore into yours, the nickname causing you to catch your breaths moving faster, “and what if you get hurt, huh? who’s gonna take care of you then?”

“mmmnnn….the nice nurses down the hall, they’re really good!” you giggled nervously, taking off your thigh holster so you’d be able to break eye contact with him. it wasn’t very often the two of you got to spend time together like this, but when you did you tried to soak up as much of it as you could before you got too nervous to even be sitting next to him.

out of the corner of your eye, you noticed he was smirking, his hand moving up your thigh again. despite how much he teased you knowing how you’d melt, he enjoyed the closeness himself and he always tried to let you know, even if it was subtle.

shiu glanced down at the holster you placed on the table, his hand moving to your waist, his thumb rubbing small circles, “i’ll make you a deal. you can go, but he has to go with you.” before you could even process the way his large hand fit perfectly on your hip your eyes shot up at him, almost shouting in protest, but you stopped yourself knowing if you did you wouldn’t be able to go at all.

the “him” in question was fushiguro toji, a coworker of yours you swore was your enemy. the two of you worked together once, and you hoped you never had to again. he was incredibly hot (and the two of you were a breath away from lips touching), yes, but he was an asshole and acted like he hated everything, which wasn’t far from the truth.

a door opened behind you and your eyes narrowed at shiu, realizing he had planned to send you off with toji the whole time. “the two of you will be working together,” shiu said, blowing smoke from his lips again, not at all moving his hand from your hip.

toji grunted, looking back and forth between shiu and the back of your head. “don’t wanna, but i’m here.”

“great, you didn’t have much of a choice anyway.” shiu said, trying to comfort you by squeezing your waist before he stood. toji truly hated working with others, but he had to admit that out of everyone he tolerated working with you the most. you being prettier than a lot of them was only another plus for him. but for you, knowing toji was like shiu’s best friend and right-hand man, it made you sick.

“whatever.” toji spat back, moving over to the couch you once sat on, leaning his cheek on his fist.

you rolled your eyes, your arms and legs now crossed, “he acts like everything is so miserable all the damn time.” you didn’t bother to hide the annoyance in your voice, wanting toji to know that you were just as miserable as him.

“yeah, because it is.” he said flatly, but that stupid smile was on his face. “unfortunately, i’ll be just as miserable working with you, you know we don’t have a choice.”

“you’ll both get over it, yeah?” shiu chuckled, the back and forth between the two of you being amusing to him.

“or not” you huffed, starting to get irritated on top of your being tired.

“she’s so dramatic.” toji hummed against his hand, his eyes trailing up your back.

“fuck you,” you mumbled, making sure either of them couldn’t hear you..or so you thought.

shiu’s eyebrow raised. he looked down at you, an expression on his face you couldn’t quite put a name to. before you could blink, his hands were on either side of you, his brolic frame leaning over you, his muscles begging for release under his dress shirt.

“repeat that for me.” toji’s voice came from directly behind you, making you flinch at the sound.

now you were in a predicament. you were sandwiched between the two big men, seeing toji’s large hand out of your peripherals. if you responded, you were sure not going to be able to go on the mission you were just begging to go on earlier. even if you wanted to say anything the air between the two men was way too thick with their cologne for you, opting to just shake your head no.

wrong answer

“she was being so good earlier, i don’t know what happened.” shiu took a moment to admire your face, studying your features. he raised a hand to your cheek, knowing how much you loved it when he did so, cupping it while you looked up at him, “you’re always causing me trouble and giving me headaches..i’ll give you another chance to use your words.”

you couldn’t help but lean your head into his hand. you brought your hands up to his forearm, holding his arm there. shiu felt a mixture of affection and amusement knowing you’d already sealed your fate as he rubbed your cheek with the pad of his thumb.

“the brat is obsessed with you,” toji leaned over you, looking at shiu. from what you could see when you looked up, toji was giving shiu a dangerous smirk, a form of silent communication between the two of them, except shiu wasn’t so quiet.

“y/n, wanna make it up to me?” you nodded eagerly, watching as shiu lit a new cigarette, stepping back to take a seat in his chair, “instead of me punishing you, toji’s going to do it. that’s your punishment.”

you stared blankly for just a moment, not knowing what shiu was talking about until toji’s large hands appeared on your thighs, trailing up your body before stopping at your breasts, and cupping them. “but wh-”

“you talk to him like that, you’re also disrespecting me, you know that doll.” shiu cut off whatever you were about to say, watching as his best friend massaged your tits, adjusting himself in his seat once he saw your legs start to spread on their own, his eyes never leaving them, “he’s just going to teach you to watch your mouth, i’ve let you off the hook too many times cause i like you. ”

you got excited hearing shiu’s words but got sidetracked once you felt toji push your shirt and bra up and over your breasts, the cold air causing you to let out a quiet whimper. “i dunno boss,” he teased, bringing his face down beside yours, “it looks like she’s liking this a little too much, huh?”

he did have a point but why would you ever admit that, “ i-i do- ngh!” your hips bucked at the sudden assault on your nipples, toji’s calloused fingers relentlessly tugging, pinching, and rolling over your nipples. head leaned back and you still tried to deny it, which only led to toji turning you around and laying you on your back.

shiu appeared behind you to make sure that you were watching toji as he pulled off your shorts and panties, his gaze darkening once it landed on your cunt that was already so soaked. he dragged two fingers through your folds and you squeezed your legs together, or tried to, only to be met by a slap to your breast by shiu, afterward him reaching down and holding your legs open and up by your chest. “you’re gonna keep your legs open, understand?”

“y-yes sir,” you mewled. toji was merely playing with your essence, enjoying the way you greedily rocked your hips while you lay in shiu’s arms. something about it did so much to him, and he knew it did just as much, if not more, for you as well.

“she’s so pretty, and her cunt is even prettier.” he purred to himself, but shiu agreed nonetheless, his hands toying with your breasts despite him not supposed to be having contact with you, he couldn’t help himself. he really couldn’t help himself seeing now, watching toji bury his face into your pussy. “tell me how good it tastes.”

“t- oji!” you hiccuped, toji humming against your clit in response. his nose was pushed up against your mound, his tongue lapping at your folds nauseatingly before he sucked them up into his mouth while he shook his head. even his stubble was tickling you in all the right places. your eyes rolled so far back you thought you could smell colors, your hand tangling in his dark hair.

“yeah? watch him eat your fuckin’ pussy, open your eyes.” your eyes came back once you felt a tap on your cheek, looking up to see shiu tilting your head back down at toji who was looking right back at you. you truly were trying your hardest, but the way the man between your legs was groaning against, sucking, and swirling at your already puffy cunt made it extremely hard to breathe, let alone keep your eyes open and focused.

you caught yourself going cross-eyed, not able to help the drool that fell from your lips, when toji plunged a finger into your hole, mouth still locked onto your clit. the slutty noises that came from him; grunts, slurps, & groans, reveling in the scent and taste of your pussy..he’s fucking nasty.

just when your lower stomach tightened, shiu said the worst thing he could’ve ever said at that moment, “stop.”

toji didn’t hesitate to release you from his mouth with a pop, giving you kisses up your stomach as to apologize, your whines and babbling pleas making him feel just the slightest bit bad for you.”i’m sorry baby,” he cooed, your hips still grinding up into the air, trying to find some type of friction. “poor thing, you taste so good.”

“if you want to cum, you’ll have to convince me you deserve it, doll.” shiu said sweetly, pushing your beautiful curls out your face and wiping the tears from your cheeks that would’ve been red had it not been for your pretty brown skin.

“give the brat to me,” toji gave you that sickening smile while shiu picked you up like it was nothing and laid you down on your stomach so now you were facing toji..well the thick bulge that was straining through his sweats. “see what you did?”

toji shamelessly palmed himself through his pants, his head slightly cocked to the side as he watched your face contort once in pleasure once you felt shiu’s middle and index finger rub deep figure 8’s into your clit, toji’s nostrils flaring. “she’s s’fucking hot.”

“i told you so.” shiu hummed, his other hand giving your ass a tight grip before he brought his hand down on it, the stinging sensation making you whine and clench around nothing. “y/n, pull his pants down.”

you nodded, nibbling in your bottom lip at the thought of where this thing might be going sooner rather than later. you grabbed a hold of toji’s waistband and wasted no time pulling it down. toji’s cock flopped on your face, causing the three of you to smile or laugh, especially with the squeak you made.

“open,” toji pushed your hair from the front of your face, his fingers gently tangling in with your messy curls. his hand stopped at the top of your head, pulling your head towards him once you opened your mouth.

a gag slipped past your lips and around toji’s cock, his thick and spongey tip catching you off guard once he pushed down. “oh fuck-” a groan resonated from in his chest, his head falling back as he did so. toji began thrusting into your mouth, the motion causing you to push back onto shiu’s fingers which had found their way into your needy cunt.

the room was filled with toji’s grunts and moans, your slew of gags, moans, and cries following his. shiu was taking it allllll in. something about watching your lips stretch around his best friend's cock, the way that your pretty brown eyes watered and rolled back, and the way that your pussy was sucking his fingers in so deep, your sopping wet walls begging him for more..and oh was he going to give it to you.

“fuck this,” shiu muttered through gritted teeth. from what you could hear through your poor, fuzzy ears was shiu scrambling to get his belt undone and his pants unbuttoned, not even attempting to pull his pants down. no, that would take entirely too long and he needed to feel you stretched around him and he needed it now.

“she’s jus’ looks too good, huh?” toji grinned through one of his groans, a breathier one following after your throat tightened because of a moan, your tongue massaging those aching veins of his. shiu brought a hand to the fat of your left hip, keeping you from doing too much squirming while he rubbed the length of his thick cock between your folds, your wetness alone enough to lube him up.

“y/n, play with his balls.” shiu requested of you. you didn’t know why he asked you instead of toji, but the curse that slipped between his lips and the way his body lurched forward, you knew it was to shut him up, a little teasing smile curling up on your lips.

that smile was quickly wiped off your face by the sudden fullness inside you, your aching walls welcoming shiu with pathetic squelches. toji lets you come up for air, his tip just resting on your puffy bottom lip, his pre and your spit dribbling off it. “shiuu!~” you looked back to see shiu focused, both of his hands gripping your ass, still slipping his cock inside you, each little bit that went in making your knees wobble beneath you.

“shhh,” toji massaged the top of your head with the hand he still had in your hair, his other hand turning you to face him. praises erupted from shiu whose hips finally met the fat of your ass. he kept his thrusts slow and shallow, a hand gliding up your back, following that perfect arch you were giving him so soon.

toji’s dick started twitching at the sight: your ass recoiling every time you and shiu’s skin met, watching how his stomach muscles already started tensing and the ring of your cream starting to form around his base. you looked absolutely fucked out, your tongue lolling out your mouth in search of toji. he looked at you with half-lidded eyes, his grip tightening around your jaw, sliding his length right back into your mouth where it belonged.

at this point, saying you were shaking was an understatement. the way your poor body was being slung back and forth by the two dicks, one of which angled his thrusts so deep you thought he’d punch through your stomach at any moment now, the other so far down your throat your nose smushed up against the bottom of his belly now and then, feeling the way his balls tightened in your hand. if that wasn’t enough, both of them talking to you the way that they were had you teetering over the edge, and you could tell that they were too.

“gonna fill you up so deep with my cum, fuck-” shiu spoke in almost a whisper, “fill you up so fuckin’ deep you’ll give me a baby, yeah? gonna let your boss put a fuckin’ baby in you with your coworker’s dick in your mouth?” that was all you needed to hear before your body tensed up, going cross-eyed as you came around shiu, your pussy clenching down on him, your throat and mouth doing the same on toji while a stream of muffled moans left your lips.

the two greedy men didn’t let up, if anything they only went harder. feeling you squeeze made shiu’s hips rut into you faster, his own eyes fluttering shut while he practically had you slamming back onto him with his hands. a series of “oohh fuuuck-”s were flying out of shiu’s lips with each thrust, each one getting longer and needier, his head starting to roll back.

“you better fuckin’ fill her up…fill ‘er little cunt up shiu…do it..” toji grunted in between his own moans which only made shiu plow into you deeper, which in turn had your mouth bouncing on toji’s dick so good he almost fell forward again, his hand moving from your hair to grip onto the desk.

words could no longer be formed between the both of them, only their moans and the slapping of skin circling through the room. toji finished first, muttering curses and praises all while holding your head still, his ribbons of ooey goodness trickling down your throat in little spurts. shiu wasn’t that far behind him either. he finished with a loud “holy shi-”, his hips stuttering, continuing his thrusts until his stomach trembled, finally pulling out of you along with toji.

the both of them stood there for a moment, breathless. they admired how beautiful you looked lying on shiu’s desk. still twitching and panting, not able to help the quiet whines that came off you while you calmed down. “s’much for a punishment, you okay doll?” shiu’s voice was gentle, his hand massaging your lower back.

“look at her,” he moved your hair out of your face, revealing a cockdrunk smile and drool still dripping from your chin, “of course she liked it.”

“you little slut.”

orignal works by me ♡ reblogs welcome, do not steal/recreate..

mechanic!nanami next

316 notes · View notes

ditzyredrobin · 5 months ago

Text

Some of the mods from @corefourweek are throwing one last event next year and prompt submissions are OPEN! @timkonweekend the event will run from October 31st through November 2nd.

If you’re interested check both events out! Submissions are open for @corefourweek until December 19th!

Welcome to TimKon Weekend! ❤️

Join us for a week-long event celebrating the relationship between Tim Drake and Connor Kent/Kon-El.

TimKon Weekend will run from October 31st to November 2nd 2025, no sign ups necessary! Any and all fan works are welcome!

❤️TimKon Weekend Schedule❤️

• Prompt Submission Period OPEN: Nov 21 - Dec 21 - SUBMIT HERE

• Prompt Voting Period: Dec 22 - Feb 1

• Prompt Reveal: Feb 7

• Work Period: Feb 6 - Oct 31

• Core Four Week Begins!: Oct 31 - Nov 2

Questions? Check our Rules and FAQ, or send us an Ask.

#corefourweek2025 #corefourweek #timkonweekend #timkonweekend2025 #tim drake #batman #connor kent #kon el #kon el kent #ditzy reblogging #superboy #dc robin #red robin #fandom event #fandom

21 notes · View notes

goldenlikedayl1ght · 1 year ago

Text

born to die - m. murdock

a/n: IM NOT DEAD i am very busy with finals but this has been rattling around the old noggin for a while now. i took a lot of inspiration from @ellephlox 's fic strawberry rhubarb which i 100% reccomend bc its better than most fics including this one! hope you enjoy! as always reblogs and comments are always appreciated! <3 warnings: oh boy. torture (cutting, burning) some sexually suggestive talk (nothing happens but it's not consensual) readers dad abused her, nightmares, lots of major character death (but not permeant) ANGST!!! but with a happy ending! kidnapping, medical stuff, cursing, and if i missed anything, let me know! word count: 4.8k summary: as matt murdock's wife, your life is rather full of surprises. getting kidnapped by wilson fisk takes the cake as the worst one. pairing: matt murdock x wife!reader now playing: born to die - lana del rey "choose your last words, this is the last time/'cause you and i, we were born to die"

You would think after patching him up too many times to count, five years without him, and countless sleepless nights worrying if he was alive, you would think you’d be used to Matt Murdock and his world of surprises.

And then you get kidnapped, so maybe you’re not so immune to surprises.

It’s really such a shame too, because you’re storming out of the apartment, too angry to take notice of your surroundings.

Silly, foolish, ditzy you.

Because it isn’t like Matt hasn’t told you time and time again that you need to be careful, especially when you go out alone at night. But he’s so angry that he doesn’t even think about the potential dangers of Hell’s Kitchen at three a.m. when Daredevil has been tucked away for the night and Matt Murdock comes back out to play.

He’s been taking more and more patrols because with Fisk being out of prison he can’t help but be constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop.

How silly he was to think that maybe he could have it all—A successful law firm, good friends and a loving wife.

Silly, foolish, ditzy Matt.

But after a week of nonstop patrols, you’re both fed up and tired, and above all, you’re yearning for each other. Neither of you allow yourselves to be totally happy all the time. It would just make everything too easy.

So, after yelling at each other over, what? Patrols? Cases? Burnt dinners? You’re freezing on the streets, and you get about five blocks before you stop and rub your eyes.

This is dumb, you rationalize. Of course, you’re both stressed out and tired, but you’ve gotten through rougher times before, and you both made an oath. To each other, in front of his God, to love each other no matter what.

You realize you left your wedding ring on the table, the ghost of the metal around your finger haunting you. You were dumb for leaving and Matt was dumb for telling you to go. You’re made for each other.

You turn around to go back to your shared apartment, and then, someone grabs you from behind. Your first instinct is to yell for your husband, but you don’t get the chance to before you’re knocked out, by what you can only guess to be a gun or maybe a large fist.

• • •

You wake up in this dingy room, the lighting not suitable for much of anything except to make you afraid. The set up is almost comical and in a fucked up away, stereotypical for a kidnapping. You’re tied up to a chair, and the lights shine only bright enough so you can see shadows and rats scurrying along.

The air is this weird musk of salt and earth, and you realize you’re near the docks, and that’s about all you know about your current location.

Your head is still pounding from whatever it was you were hit with, but you can see another chair a few feet from you and a wooden table with various weapons laying on it. You don’t feel good about this one. Also on the table is an old school record player. You have no idea what the intention is with it.

You try to keep your cool, knowing that wherever you wander, your husband will not be very far off. That whatever is happening, he will be coming to find you no matter how upset he is for whatever it was you were fighting about earlier.

And then, out of the shadows, there he is.

But he’s too big to be Matt, and he has a man standing next to him.

Frank, maybe?

And then you realize who this man is.

He’s Wilson Fisk, the kingpin who has done nothing but torture and kill people, shoving it in Matt’s face for years. Matt only met you after Fisk was put back in prison, and you know at some point in the five-year blip without Matt, he had escaped prison.

So, this is the first time you’ve had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Fisk. When he meets your eye, you do nothing but stare.

“Good evening, Mrs. Murdock. It’s a shame we must meet under these circumstances.” He tells you, taking a seat in front of you. His henchman stands behind the chair.

“It’s regretful to say the least.” You tell him, not intending to make any more of an enemy out of him than Matt already has, not right now.

“I wanted to congratulate you on your wedding. I remember my own, it was a rather special day.”

You know that was the day Matt took him down. The night that he, Karen and Foggy took him down.

“I’ve heard stories. It seemed like a lovely day.”

“You’re a much more gracious guest than your counterpart.”

“Well, I’m sure people say similar things about you and yours.”

He seems to consider this for a moment before nodding.

“You’re probably right about that, Mrs. Murdock. I wanted to tell you I’m terribly sorry these are the circumstances in which we are finally introduced. But it seems Mr. Murdock has been interested in finding out more about my endeavors. And you see, we simply cannot have that. I made a promise not to hurt Miss Page or Mr. Nelson but it seems you were not included in that deal.” Of course not, it had been a long time before you showed up. “So, you’re how we’re going to send Mr. Murdock a message.”

Huh.

So, this is how you die.

Well, you might as well go out with a bang.

“You see, Mrs. Murdock, When I was a boy—”

“I’m going to stop you, Mr. Fisk, because your sob story is rather dull. I know who you are. You were beaten by your father, just like I was. The difference is that I don’t use that as an excuse to murder my way to the top of the food chain. And you can torture me, assault me, whatever you feel you need to do. But if you think for a second that I’ll forget who’s coming to stop you, you are sorely mistaken. And if you think he’ll ever stop trying to find me, you do not know my husband very well.”

Fisk stares at you for a while, his gaze hardening into a glare.

“You’re right. You do know who I am. Because we’re rather similar.” He stands up and nods to the man nearby. “If Murdock can hear her far from here, make sure he hears her screaming.”

Then Wilson Fisk walks away, and you are left with the sickening gaze of a man who has no good intentions.

The man goes to the record player and starts to play a song you recognize quickly as “Fly Me To The Moon” by Frank Sinatra. As he does this, he speaks,

“Hello, Mrs. Murdock. I’m John.” You stay quiet, and he just enjoys the song.

He picks up a knife from the table and goes to you, this grin on his face that makes you sick.

But you remember a trick from not only your childhood, but also from Frank who told you the key to remaining strong under torture—Distraction.

You stare straight ahead, trying not to mind as the man runs the knife over your skin. You think about Matt. You imagine him in his wedding suit, the smile he had on as you approached him down that aisle. You think about when he asked you to marry him, and—

A sharp pain slashes down your arm, cutting open the shirt you’re wearing. You yell in pain, before moving in to try and take deep breaths.

You can do this. Matt will be here soon.

You continue to breathe through the anxiety and the pain, trying not to think too hard about when John hums along to Sinatra’s voice, guiding his knife around your skin. Another cut finds itself on your shoulder.

This goes on for a while, with the classic song looping over and over again. John never seems to tire of it, no matter how badly you will for it to end. As the song ends in one particularly good loop, John hits your face hard, and your nose starts bleeding.

You try to think of Matt’s voice. You don’t listen to John’s torments, knowing it will only egg him on further. You just want him to burn at that point.

By the end of… Countless Frank Sinatra serenades, you have cuts littered around your body, dry blood on your face from your nose and tears running down your face. When he’s eventually done, two men cut you out from the chair and drag you along to a smaller, darker room. You are left in there with a small meal, and you just huddle against a corner, nearest a barred window out of your reach.

And then, you begin to speak for the first time since you saw Fisk.

“Matt,” You whisper, “I’m by the docks.” You tell him, not sure if he can even hear you. “Please, I’m sorry for everything, please just come find me..” You mumble, too tired and aching to try and do more.

• • •

The next day, or what you presume to be the next day since you have no way to tell how much time has passed, you’re woken up by a loud banging on the door of your.. cell..?

The same two men enter and drag you back to the room, where John waits for you.

“How are you feeling today, Mrs. Murdock?” He asks.

You glare.

“Fuck you.”

He laughs and shakes his head.

“What happened to the polite young woman Mr. Fisk and I met yesterday?”

You’re filled with unprecedented anger.

“I said, Fuck you!”

He wastes no time, grabbing a lighter off the table and starting the record player again. Once more, Frank Sinatra’s voice fills the room, and you’re pretty sure once you’re done with John, and then Fisk, you’ll bring Sinatra back from the dead just to kill him again.

You’ve never really been a violent person, but you suspect that it lives in the worst parts of you, just as it did with your own father. You’re much better at keeping it all at bay. Besides, it does you no good to be violent while you have Matt. He’s plenty angry for the both of you.

Oh, Matt..

This is how time passes for you. While John tortures you, burning you or carving into your skin, you think about how great it will be to choke the life out of the singer… And you think about Matt. When you’re in your dark little room, you talk to him. Even if he can’t hear you, you must hope that he’s looking for you.

• • •

Days pass. How long have you been here?

One night, you have the following dream:

It starts out as a memory. A memory of you and Matt. You’re lying in bed with him, and the sunlight is hitting his face just right. You love this memory, it’s one you recall often. He just has this angelic look to him.

Yeah, most people who encounter him, especially at night, meet the devil. But occasionally, you get glimpses of the angel you know he is. He’s sleeping, and you think in this state, he is the most relaxed you’ll ever see him.

Then, before your eyes, the dream shifts and you’re in this black void, on the ground.

Foggy, Karen, Frank, and Matt stand around you. You run to Matt but hit a clear shield keeping him from you. You bang on the glass, well, maybe it’s glass, you don’t know. You try to scream, but your voice never reaches your ears. You begin to look around, looking for a way out.

An eerie version of ‘Fly Me To The Moon’ plays as you glance over to Foggy and watch in horror as his body begins to turn to ash, just like Matt and Karen did when they were blipped. You scream, banging against the shield, but your screams are silent.

You glance back and see the same thing happening to Frank. No, no, no! It was never supposed to happen this way! Frank and Foggy, they lived! They got their time! They don’t die like this!

And then Karen starts too. You start sobbing, not wanting her to go. You had missed her so much, and you only just got her back. But soon enough, she’s gone too, and you’re left in front of your husband.

His hand comes up to rest on the forcefield and he frowns softly.

He says your name gently, and then adds, “You know it couldn’t last forever, right?”

And then just as quickly as before, he is gone again. You remain there in that void, sobbing and screaming though no noise reaches you. This can’t be it! You just got him back, you needed him! You couldn’t take being alone for another five years… Or more…

The dream transforms and you’re in this grand ballroom. People are dancing elegantly and you’re in this.. obnoxious ball gown. But across the room, you can see Matt. He’s dressed in an all-black suit, with a red masquerade mask covering his face. The mask has little red devil horns on it.

Now, the orchestra plays their rendition of Sinatra’s romantic classic. And you step towards Matt, attempting to make your way towards him, only to be met with a masked man, beginning to twirl you around.

You jump from man to man, until eventually, you’re dancing with a man in an all-white suit, a man you quickly recognize as Fisk. No matter how hard you try to escape his grasp, he holds on tighter. The two of you stop dancing now, amid the crowd of moving bodies.

Fisk grabs your chin and tilts it in Matt’s direction, just in time for you to see him bowing to another woman, kissing the back of her hand. Your eyes widen and you think, this can’t be real.

“When I kill you,” Fisk says, “He’ll move on. You’re easily replaceable, Mrs. Murdock.”

And then, in an instant, the woman with Matt pulls out a dagger and plunges it deeply into his abdomen. It’s then that the other dancers, besides you, Fisk, Matt, and this mystery woman, disappear. Matt turns to you and falls to his knees, clutching his stomach.

He tries to crawl to you, blood seeping onto his hands and the beautiful ballroom floor. He yells your name, and the woman stabs him again from behind, and you watch as your husband dies. You hear him screaming, hear him yelling your name. But Wilson Fisk keeps you in place. You can do nothing but watch as Matt Murdock meets his end again, unable to save him. You start to scream, thrashing against Fisk, ready to claw your way to Matt.

You wake up screaming, the nightmare haunting you. A guard bangs on your door, yelling at you to keep it down.

It was just a nightmare, you tell yourself. Maybe Matt heard your screams.

Maybe he’s already dead.

You force yourself not to listen to the voice in your head that says that.

• • •

One day, Fisk visits again, only this time, He’s covered in blood. That damn song is still playing.

You just stare. They have long since stopped tying you up, recognizing that you no longer have the energy to try and fight back. He has this sick grin on his face.

“Good evening, Mrs. Murdock.” You say nothing. “Have you been enjoying your stay with us?”

You glare.

“I hope Matt kills you when he gets here, because it will be a lot less painful for you if he does it instead of me.”

Mr. Fisk just laughs at this and tosses something at your feet. You get down off the chair to see what it is.

Your face goes pale with realization. You pick it up and slip it on your thumb, with it being too big for your other fingers. Matt’s wedding ring. You know it’s his, it has your name engraved in braille on the inside. How did he get this?

As if reading your mind, Fisk speaks again. “I took it off his body after I killed him.”

Your head shoots up to him. What did he say?

“No.” You deny. “Fuck off, I don’t—I don’t believe you.”

“Your husband is dead, Mrs. Murdock. I killed him with my bare hands because he was stupid enough to come after you. Your friends will mourn you and Matt Murdock for a while, and the city will come to the realization that Daredevil did nothing but harm. I win, Mrs. Murdock.”

You feel tears start to fill your eyes, and you realize, no. He hasn’t won because you’re still alive.

Maybe not for long, but you are.

You gather the rest of your energy and leap up, lunging at the large man covered in the man you love’s blood. And there’s a part of you that gets it. Okay, universe, you win. Most people don’t get a second chance like the two of you did. And now he’s dead, and soon you will be too. You can at least try to kill Fisk.

But you barely get a scratch in, yelling and screaming obscenities at him, as John grabs your arms from behind pulling you away. Fisk laughs and shakes his head again.

“It’s been lovely knowing you, Mrs. Murdock. I’m sorry you’ll have to die, you had so much potential. John, when you’re done doing whatever you’d like to her, kill her.” You hear him say it, but you’re blinded by rage, by grief.

John laughs behind you and forces you back into the chair, tying you back up once more. He looks at you, enraged and grief stricken, and just shakes his head.

“You and I are going to have a lot of fun.”

He leaves for a few minutes, and you realize this is the first time you’ve been left alone in this room. You tug at the knots and realize that while John is a gifted torturer, he’s not much of a knot tier.

So you manage to wiggle out of the rope, approaching the table in front of you. You don’t have much time. Okay, maybe you won’t be able to kill Fisk, but John will do. You take a golf club off the table in front of you and turn to the record player.

You begin to smash the thing in, angrily cursing at it as Frank Sinatra’s voice fades off into nothing. When the song ends, the lights turn off. And then, red flood lights turn on in their place.

A back up generator. Lovely. You think that your smashing of the record player couldn’t possibly make the whole building’s power go off, but you don’t really care at that moment.

You’re tired. You won’t make it far, but you need to try. You grasp the club and open the door, being greeted with a man you don’t recognize. You smack him in the face with the club hard enough for him to fall to the ground.

The red lighting adds an eerie tone to the hallways as you creep around, concussing various henchmen that Fisk has working for him. You don’t mean to kill these ones, only John.

But you’re running out of stamina, peeking around corners. And that’s when you see him. John is just standing there like he knows you’re there.

“Come out to play, Mrs. Murdock?” He calls, approaching the corner where you are waiting on the other side.

You focus on his footsteps, taking a swing around the corner when you know he’s close enough. You hear a sharp crack! As he falls, and you can’t see the blood in this lighting. Good. You begin to hit his head in, sobs mixing with yelling. You hate him. You want him to die before you’re killed.

But you don’t get the pleasure, because a pair of arms are pulling you off him, and you begin yelling.

“No!” You yelp. “No, Fuck you! Let go of me! Stop!” You think it’s another one of his goons, and you just want to be able to finish the job before you die. The figure forces you to drop the club. “Please, stop, don’t hurt me—”

But he’s saying your name and turning you around to see him. You know that voice.

“Sweetheart, hey, it’s just me—” He pants, his hands going to your cheeks. “It’s me, It’s just me. I’ve got you.”

And you can’t believe your eyes.

“Matt..?” You whimper, not able to believe it. “No, you’re dead, this has to be—”

And then, Matt does something he wouldn’t do for anyone who wasn’t his wife. He pulls off his helmet so you can see his face. Oh.

“I’m right here. I’ve got you.” He says softly, his thumb gently rubbing against your skin.

That’s when you start to sob, falling against him, no energy left to carry yourself. His arms wrap around you, and you say it again.

“He told me you were dead..”

“I know.. I’m sorry, I don’t know how he got my ring but we’ve gotta get you out of here.” He tells you.

You’re so tired. You’re slumping against him as you try to walk, the warmth radiating off his body just drawing you to sleep.

The last thing you hear before you fall asleep is Matt’s voice, begging you to stay awake.

• • •

You see flashes. Your parents, your dad. Nightmares of Fisk killing Karen, Foggy, Frank, and worst of all, Matt. You see John’s sickening grin on the body of spiders, and you’re chased by his cruel laughter.

But the dreams are filmier compared to what’s happening around you. You know Claire shows up at some point, and you’re thankful to her. Karen sits next to you sometimes, petting your hair, or sometimes it’s Foggy, talking your ear off.

You have fever dreams of Frank in full military gear, tormenting you.

“Not so tough now, huh, girl?” He teases. “You really thought you’d kill the big bad wolf? Solve all your boyfriend’s problems?”

You say to him, “Husband, He’s my husband.”

• • •

Even in your dreams, where you were slashed and burned aches, and you long for the pain to end.

You wake up only once throughout these dreams, and it’s when Karen is playing music to try and calm you from your insistent nightmares.

Only one song snaps you out of it, and you hear it clear as day.

‘Fly me to the moon,” Sinatra sings, “Let me play among the stars,’

He only gets through a few more lines before you’re sitting up on the couch, screaming.

“No! Stop, please!” You cry, and in an instant, Matt’s arms are around you. “Matt, please, don’t let him hurt me, please! Please don’t die, don’t let him keep hurting me!” You beg, in a hazed, frenzied state.

“I’ve got you, No one’s going to hurt you..”

Karen turns off the music somewhere deep in the apartment.

“No..” You begin to grow tired in his arms again. “Matty, please.. You can’t die, please..” You whimper out, continuing to mumble out pleads as you fall back into your weird dream state.

• • •

You really wake up two days later. Matt’s hand is clasped over yours, and he’s just.. Sitting on the floor next to the couch, praying into your clasped hands.

Praying for what, you don’t know.

Your body aches. But something in you tells you you’re safe.

“Matt…?” You whisper gently, and his head shoots up.

“Hey..” He says softly, one hand leaving yours, coming up to brush your hair out of your face. “There she is..”

“You’re alive..”

He seems a little concerned you still had some doubts about this.

“I am. Fisk lied to you.. He never even touched me.” You nod.

“Did I kill him? The man you found me..”

“No. He’s just in a coma, I checked. He’ll be brought to justice.”

“I only wanted him dead when I thought you were too..” Because really, you would have nothing if Matt wasn’t there. Nothing to live for. When he was blipped away, you had the hardest time readjusting to life. Now you know if he died again, you’d probably go off the rails.

No love story is saved more than once. You used up all your luck. Now it will be doomed if he’s ever killed again.

“I know.” He said gently.

“How long have I been out? How long was I in there?”

“A week, and then you were out for four days here. They got you good, baby..” He says gently. “I’m sorry I didn’t find you earlier.”

You frown softly.

“You did find me though. That’s all that really matters anymore.” You know you’ll be nursing scars for a long time. Physical or not.

“Still..” He said gently, and he brings your hand up to kiss it gently. “And I’m sorry I told you to leave that night. I was just upset, but this past week and half.. I feel like I’ve been going crazy without you. No matter how mad at you I am, I never want to spend another night without holding you. Knowing that you could have been…” His voice breaks, and he just sighs, taking a moment to lean his head on your hand. “I love you, so much.” He kisses your palm again.

How are you so tired again? All you’ve done is talk to him, but it feels like you just ran a marathon.

“I love you. It’s why I married you. Because you and I, we were always meant to be with each other. No matter what.”

He smiles weakly and reaches over to the coffee table to grab something. He slips it on your finger and for the first time in over a week, your wedding ring is back where it belongs. You see Matt is wearing his. Your Matt. Your husband. The only one you were ever meant to be with.

“Did Claire patch me up? I remember her being here..” He nods softly.

“Yeah, we.. we really owe her one. She was a huge help..”

“Karen and Foggy were here… And Frank?”

“No, no, Frank’s still in Illinois, I think?” You nod softly. “You were mumbling to him, though. I heard you… you were telling him you had a husband.”

You would laugh if it didn’t hurt.

“He called you my boyfriend. I had to correct him.” You grin.

“That’s my girl.” He hums. Matt gently lifts you so you can sit up and drink some water. Then, he climbs onto the couch and brings you close. His arms wrap around your freshly wounded skin and you have a rare moment of gratefulness for his blindness.

You sit in silence for a while.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks gently.

You think about it all. The torture, the cuts, burns, the small room. Fisk’s laughter, John’s grin. But something sticks out to you.

“Fisk said I was just like him.”

“What?”

“We.. We grew up similar, Matt, I mean.. What if he’s right? What if the only thing separating him and I is one bad move?”

Your husband frowns and shakes his head.

“Sweetheart, you are the.. the most amazing person I’ve ever met. You’re the complete antithesis of Wilson Fisk. Yeah, you grew up like him, but you’re living proof that you don’t have to go down the path he did just because of his background. You and I both know that there will never be a world where you end up like him. Especially not with me.”

You find comfort with his words. Not only did you make every choice not to be like Fisk, but you must’ve also made all the right decisions if in the end, you ended up with Matt. Oh, it won’t be easy, you know that for sure. You’ll never be able to listen to Frank Sinatra, and your upcoming nights are filled with nightmares and hauntings.

But one day you’ll be okay. One day You’ll be able to sit in the silence without thinking about it. One day you’ll get the image of dead Matt out of your head. You’ve spent many nights wondering about who will go first, you or him.

And then you realize the best-case scenario is that the two of you die at the same time, never living another moment without each other.

How would there ever be a world where you and your husband weren’t with each other, even just for a moment?

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock #daredevil #daredevil x reader #daredevil fic #netflix daredevil #matt murdock angst #matt murdock x you #matt murdock fic #matt murdock fanfiction #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock hurt/comfort #matt murdock my beloved #hurt/comfort #angst with a happy ending

875 notes · View notes

allisluv · 2 months ago

Note

a little self indulgent but finnick with reader who has a lisp and has always been insecure about it and one day they hear others making fun of it and it ends with him comforting them :(

water off a ducks back.

pairing: finnick o'dair x fem!reader

content warnings: pre-established relationship, men being men (not finnick though we love him), reader has a lisp and gets made fun of for it, crude comments, finnick being protective, the capitol, light-hearted banter between reader and finnick, mainly comfort

word count: 1.1k

a/n: two finnick blurbs in one day watch me drop off the face of the earth for a month now (/hj.) i do not have a lisp but i do hope i've handled the topic with care! <3

reblogs and comments are highly appreciated!!

Finnick is practically glued to your side as the two of you glide through the Capitol gala, forced to make small talk with new and old Capitol elites alike. Neither of you enjoy these parties really, but as Finnick had reiterated as he zipped up your dress in the hotel, it was a simple formality, one of the many prices of being a victor.

After your twenty-fifth conversation with a group of men who keep making explicit remarks, too strewn out on alcohol or other substances to pay attention to Finnick’s pointed glares and the forced laughs that slip past your lips, you excuse yourself to get a drink.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Finnick asks, tightening his grip on your hip ever so slightly. It’s not even done intentionally; it comes as second nature to him now, especially when you’re in the Capitol.

“I’ll be fine,” You reassure him, offering your boyfriend a small, tight-lipped smile. You squeeze his hand before prying your fingers out of his gentle grasp. “I’ll be right back.” You say over your shoulder before disappearing into the crowd.

Multiple people try to pull you into their conversations, but you pretend not to hear them. You’ve always been painted by the cameras as a bit of a ditzy person, anyway, so you’re playing right into that narrative. It’s a win-win, really.

Only a few stragglers remain at the bar as you hop up onto a mahogany stool. You scan the drinks menu, tapping your fingers on your thighs as you think of what to get.

Your attention is pulled to a womans high-pitched voice, and you try not to eavesdrop, really, you do— but then you hear your name, and all bets are off the table. You shift your position on the bar stool and subtly lean in closer, trying to catch what they’re saying.

The woman has a posh tone and you immediately recognise it as a Capitol born accent. She doesnt bother trying to keep her voice down, and you know for a fact that she wants you to hear what she is saying. “Yeah, her.” Out of the corner of your eye, you see her nudge her partner in the ribcage, and gesture to you with her flask of champagne.

A loud hum, followed by a man’s voice. “Ah, yes, I remember her. She’s the one who talks funny. Pronounces her words like a child.” He scoffs. “Its a shame, really. A pretty face like that.” He tilts his head to one side, scrutinising you.

You can feel the heat flooding your face, and you duck your head, digging your fingernails into the skin of your thighs to stop the shame from eating you alive.

The woman nods her head furiously. “Uh-huh. Imagine having to hear that in bed,” she snickers, sipping her champagne. You can hear her mock the way you spoke in your victory speech, and that is the final straw for you.

As quick as a flash, you wobble to your feet, head held high. You refuse to shrink underneath their gaze, despite the roiling in your stomach and the embarrased blush on your cheeks. In your haste to put some distance between the two of you, you bump into someone. An apology lingers on your tongue, but you relax as the smell of saltwater and expensive cologne fills your nostrils.

Finnick arches a sharp eyebrow, taking in your expression. “Are you okay, angel?” You nod once, feeling too stupid to open your mouth in case they poke fun at your speech again. He tilts his head to one side, analysing you. “I call bullshit.” He says firmly, but not unkindly. “What’s going on?”

“N—Nothing!” You squeak out, but your voice wobbles, and it definitely doesn’t help plead your case of being fine.

The couple at the bar burst out laughing, and you tongue the inside of your cheek, willing yourself to keep the tears at bay.

Finnick picks up on the sudden shift in your mood, and while he may not understand exactly what is going on, hes atuned to you enough to know that something is going on. Narrowing his eyes, he turns to the couple, who keep giggling and staring at you. “Is something funny?” He asks coldly.

The man shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly. “Not a problem here, darling. Although, I do have a question.” He doesn’t wait for Finnick to answer before asking, “She talk the same way while the two of you are screwing?”

The woman coughs out a laugh into her flask of champagne.

Finnick scoffs, and shakes his head in disbelief. Taking your hand, he turns to the woman, who’s still trying to catch her breath. “I hope you choke on that.” And with the last biting comment, he guides you to the exit, point-blank ignoring people who try to strike up a conversation with him.

He waits until the two of you are out of the ballroom and hailing a cab back to the hotel before he talks. “What else did they say?” His jaw is set in a firm line.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Like hell it doesn’t. Prick’s lucky I didn’t deck him right then and there.”

“I’m used to it, Finn. It doesn’t bother me anymore.” You lie. “Like water off a ducks back.”

Finnick sighs and helps you climb into the back of the cab. Instead of sitting on the opposite side, he settles in the middle seat, clipping in your safety belt. As the car begins to move on the road, he takes your hand and presses a kiss to your knuckles.

You rest your head on his shoulder. “I hate this place,” you mutter.

“Yeah. Me too, angel. Me too,” He sighs, letting your intertwined hands rest in his lap. A beat of silence passes. “They had no right to say that.”

You shrug. “It happens.”

“It shouldn’t.” He says firmly. “There’s nothing wrong with you. There’s nothing wrong with the way you speak, and there’s nothing wrong with you. Do you hear me? That says more about them than it does about you. And I know it doesn’t mean a lot, but I wouldn’t change a thing about you for all the money in the world. You’re perfect. Just the way you are.”

“You’ll make me cry,” you warn, leaning over to nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck.

“You can cry if you want to. No shame in that.”

“It’s not that. I just don’t wanna ruin my makeup.” You pout.

Finnick laughs heartily. “Well, stained makeup or not, you’re still the most gorgeous girl I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He kisses your forehead and sighs. “Now, I think when we get back to the hotel, we make some calls and find out who those bastards are.”

“Why?” You ask suspiciously.

“I think they have a parcel in the shape of laxatives coming their way.”

#grace talks🐚🌷#the hunger games #thgs #thg #finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x you #finnick odair hurt/comfort #blurb #blurbs #drabble #oneshots #oneshot #drabbles #fem!reader #mockingjay #sam claflin #catching fire

77 notes · View notes

lostinthesaucexx · 5 days ago

Text

Sooooo this ditzy little doll got her phone disconnected (whoopsies 🤪) and is needing to replace getting it turned back on! If anyone has any requests I’ll be taking them on Snapchat - the joining fee is the cost of a sweet treat 🥰

Reblog as always if this tummy and twins got your attention 🤭

#thickaf #curvy and cute #good slvt #thick and juicy #thick babe #attention slvt #big tiddy committee #needy slvt #bimbo training #bimboification #natural body #hornyasf #hornyposting #real thoughts #yummy tummy

222 notes · View notes

hederasgarden · 7 months ago

Note

May I please request "You heard me. Take. It. Off.” with Mafia Jake Seresin? (make it as dark as you'd like!)

This got…wildly, unexpectedly dark guys.

Pairing: Mafia boss!Jake Seresin x F!Reader Word Count: 1.3K Warning: Threats of violence (sexual and physical), mafia themes, and a very not in character Jake (basically just a dude wearing his face). Some themes are not tagged. A/N: I’m gonna need you guys to be gentle with me on this one. It is my first foray into writing darker content. I have zero idea if this is the vibe you guys were wanting or not. 😅 Please comment or reblog if you enjoyed this and want to see more. Or scream at me in my inbox. That always makes my day.

You can tell something’s wrong when Rooster arrives to collect you from your desk at reception. He usually greets you with a joke and a smile, leaning over the divider to flirt with you, but today his expression is all business.

“The boss wants to see you.”

If his demeanor wasn’t enough to raise alarm bells, his choice of words certainly is. The Boss— not Jake or Hangman. A wave of anxiety rushes through your chest, settling like a stone in your gut.

“Of course,” you reply brightly, trying to mask your nerves. “Let me just grab my phone and notepad.”

“Leave them,” he instructs. “Just you.”

“I’m not getting fired, am I?” you ask, letting a hint of genuine anxiety slip into your voice. You school your expression into that of the wide-eyed, ditzy front desk girl whose only concern is keeping her job. They can’t discover who you really are.

“I know I lost that package last week, but Bob said it was okay,” you lament, trying to stall. “Am I in trouble?”

“I was just told to get you,” Rooster replies tersely.

As you round the desk to pass him, he grabs your bicep with a tight grip. You stumble to keep up with his brisk pace in your heels, but he doesn’t slow down, almost dragging you across the bustling warehouse floor. Though none of the workers look up as you pass, you can feel their eyes on you. By the time you arrive at Jake’s office your hands are shaking and you feel like you might actually throw up. It’s a struggle to push through the panic and remember your training. But eventually you do, plastering on a pleasant but confused expression. You have to play your role, your life could depend on it.

Jake watches you from behind his desk, his dark green eyes cutting over your figure before moving behind you. He jerks his head and the door closes. You’re alone with him and you swallow, throat bobbing in instinctive expression of fear.

“Mr. Seresin…” your words trail off when he raises his hand.

“I’ll admit, it took me a while to see it,” he says, his attention focused on unbuttoning his cuffs to roll up his sleeves and reveal inked skin. “Do you want to know what gave you away?” he asks.

Something, somewhere went terribly wrong you realize. He knows who you are.

“I’m sorry, Sir. I don’t understand what’s going on. If this is about the package…”

He fixes you with a withering look, the tick in his jaw at odds with the calmness of his demeanor. “Don’t,” he says softly.

You fall silent and hold your hands together in front of you, toying with the bracelet on your left wrist. Hidden within the heart-shaped charm is your panic button. You press it and force yourself to stay still; it won’t take your team long to respond. You just needed to keep things from escalating.

“It was your eyes that gave you away,” he continues. “You fluttered your lashes and swayed those hips with the best of them, but it’s hard to mask that kind of intelligence.”

When you don’t react to his words, his grin disappears. “I’m paying you a compliment, sweetheart. Say thank you.”

Years of training urge you to maintain your cover, but deep down, you know it's pointless. The past three months with Jake Seresin have taught you that he doesn’t like being deceived. You know keeping up the pretense will only make him angrier.

“Coming from you, that’s no compliment,” you say, sounding more composed than you feel.

As a slow, genuine smile spreads across his face, the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Something is very wrong. Everything about this conversation feels off —from his calm, measured tone to the deliberate, unhurried pace of it all. He should be worried, even scared, at finding a cop in his operation.

“Let’s skip over the part where I ask if you’re wearing a wire and you lie to me,” Jake says, moving to stand in front of his desk. You instinctively take a step back but he simply looks at you, making no move toward you. Instead, he casually leans back, crossing one leg over the other. “Take off your dress.”

The abrupt shift in conversation and his tone have your mind spinning to keep up. “What?” you ask uselessly.

"You heard me. Take. It. Off.” You stand rooted to the spot and he sighs, rolling his eyes. “I’ll do it for you if you prefer.”

You glance at the clock on his desk. It’ll be at least another 10 minutes before backup arrives, and a lot could happen between now and then, none of it good.

“No, no. I’ll do it,” you’re quick to say, desperate to maintain some sense of control over the situation.

With trembling fingers, you reach for the zipper on the back of your dress, moving deliberately slow to buy yourself a few extra seconds, though you know you can't delay the inevitable. You hunch forward, raising your shoulders to let the fabric slip down your arms. As the dress pools at your feet, you step out of it, leaving yourself in just your undergarments. Goosebumps spread across your skin as you stand there, shivering and exposed.

“There’s no wire,” you tell him, jutting out your chin.

Jake grins, reaching into his pocket. “I know. You’re far too clever for that.”

One by one, he pulls out the tiny bugs you had hidden in his office and the warehouse, letting them fall to the floor. As he grinds them under the heel of his Italian loafers, you can only stare at him in stunned silence.

“Right about now you’re trying to figure out how to stall me long enough for your team to get here. Am I right?” He asks.

You shake your head, terror swimming in your veins. If he knew about your panic button, then—

“It’s shockingly easy to get a cell phone jammer these days,” Jake tells you.

He pushes off his desk and you scramble back, body coiled and ready for a fight but, to your surprise, Jake stops a few feet in front of you. He picks up your dress.

“I want you to remember this feeling,” he says, gaze wandering over your exposed skin. “I want you to remember that I can do whatever I want with you. You’re powerless here.”

He tosses your dress at you. “Put it on,” he demands. You stand frozen and unsure of what game he’s playing. “Or not. I don’t mind.” He adds, his smirk making your stomach flip unpleasantly.

You scramble to redress. Once you’re clothed again, you still feel vulnerable.

“Now that you understand the score, let’s talk about how you’re going to help me.”

You stare at him in confusion.

“LAPD’s personnel files are shockingly easy to hack into,” he reveals, picking up a folder on his desk and thumbing through the pages. “Rooster’s on the way to pay your grandmother a visit,” he informs you.

The anxiety and fear you experienced before pales in comparison to the overwhelming terror that grips you as you come to a horrifying realization: it’s not just your own safety that’s at stake. You’ve damned your poor, sweet, elderly grandmother who thinks you still have a desk job at the precinct.

“I wonder if she’ll offer him those same homemade cookies she gave me when I stopped by,” Jake asks with a smile.

Send me a request

#jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #ivy after dark #hangman x reader #hangman x you

153 notes · View notes

thyme-in-a-bubble · 9 months ago

Note

croissant - send me a sfw request!

steve harrington x anxious!ditzy!reader friends to lovers

a/n: hey babyyy 🥰

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist

“Oh, there you are!” the rumbles of the party poured through the door as Steve slipped into the dim office, “what are you doing hiding out in here?”

“I’m not hiding,” you continued to clutch your knees to your chest as you sat in the tufted armchair nestled by the window.

Closing the door behind him, he leaned against it and squinted in your direction, “…you hate it don’t you?”

Cocking your head gently to the side, your heart still thumped harshly in your chest, “hate is a strong word…”

“I shouldn’t have dragged you along, should I?” a look of guilt washed over his features as he gazed upon your form in the shadows.

“There’s just a lot of people here,” the booming base kept your body tense, “a lot going on.”

Stepping closer to you, Steve kneeled down beside where you were seated, “are you okay?”

Opening your mouth to answer, you nearly spat out a polite lie before averting your gaze and uttering, “not really… but it’s alright. Nothing I’m not used to juggling on an everyday basis. Don’t worry about me, you should go back out there, don’t let me spoil your Friday night.”

“Y/n,” his tone commanded your attention and ushered your eyes to meet his, “I don’t wanna be here if you’re not. Do you know what I’ve been doing for the last 30 minutes? Looking for you. So, if you wanna go, if you don’t wanna be here anymore, then let me take you home.”

#lea’s writing #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington hc #steve harrington headcanon #steve harrington hcs #steve harrington headcanons #steve harrington scenario #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington hurt/comfort

247 notes · View notes

bwabys-scenarios · 1 year ago

Note

Kurapika + clumsy reader?

Kurapika with a Clumsy Reader HCs

!!REBLOGS APPRECIATED!!

-oh my god you make this man WORRY

-every time he comes home from work he’s checking you for any bruises or scrapes and treating them as soon as possible.

-every time you fall he’s quick to help you up, offering to carry you or hold you hand to make walking easier.

-if you wear skirts or dresses he buys you shorts to wear under them so when you trip your underwear isn’t exposed.

-he’s quick to kiss any injury left on your skin, feeling personally responsible. Kurapika wants to protect you more than anything, so seeing you with any kind of wound makes his heart hurt. He just wants to kiss it better 😭💗

-Kurapika started carrying around a small first aid kid specifically to take care of you. It’s actually come in handy for himself a few times.

-if anyone laughs at you or calls you stupid/ditzy he’s ready to fight on behalf of you. He won’t let anyone make fun of his beloved, especially after you get hurt and are already upset.

-has offered to buy you knee pads or any kind of protection really to help

-carries you around like a princess when he can. Kurapika just genuinely enjoys having you in his arms, your clumsiness is only an excuse… he might even blush when you kiss his cheek and thank him.

-Yandere!Kurapika would swaddle you in pillows and make your home accident proof to keep you safe. His paranoid mind would have him kidnapping you way faster, wanting to have you in a setting where you would have a less likely chance to fall and hurt yourself.

389 notes · View notes

dollwrites · 2 years ago

Note

“Oh you’re a greedy, greedy little girl, aren’t you?” with the man himself, Alucard 😈

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), maid!fem!reader, hypno kink, dub con, rough sex, noise control, dumbification, all characters featured are aged 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3

compulsion.

you never knew the true meaning of that word until you looked into Alucard’s eyes. they were vermilion, and seemed to glow against the dimness in the room. so deep that you lost yourself in them. even pinned to the grand coffin lid, with one of your knees brought to your chest, you calf bouncing haplessly against his broad shoulder, you were an unblinking, thoughtless object now, staring up into them, swept into his trance.

he hadn’t stripped you at all. rather, your panties had been ripped off without so much as disturbing your skirt that he invaded you from underneath. the way your sleeves slid down your arms, revealing more and more of your heaving breasts as your neckline sagged, well, that was from your body going limp at his command and conquering. if you weren’t so hopelessly locked on to his gaze, you might’ve watched how your foot bounced around haphazardly behind his wild, raven tendrils, or listened to the humiliating squelching of your needy sex as he drove a mighty cock into you in merciless, deep thrusts.

Alucard grins, wide and wicked. “Hm, you know, I am almost amused at you, little one. All of that screaming and thrashing when I first caught you.. but now?” his gloved hand grabs your face, holding it steady amidst how he jostles you. “You didn’t fight the compulsion at all. Not even for a moment.” he chuckles, a thick and devious rumbling in his throat. “So easy it was to snap your little mind in half. Although, I suppose, you didn’t have much to break in the first place up there, did you?” he teases, through his toothy grin. sharpened fangs peek out from under the devilish curl of his lips.

your jaw is slack, tongue threatening to hang out from your parted tiers, and you pant, like an animal. you make sounds that you’ve never heard yourself make. he croons at them all, his sharp eyes never once allowing you a moment to regain an inkling of your sanity as his thumb careens over your chin to delve into your mouth. pushing the pad of it against the fleshy inside of your cheek, he anchors it there, tugging at your lips. “Stay nice and quiet,” his own voice drops to a lusty whisper, one hardly audible over the vulgar slapping of your skin as he pounds you, “don’t make a peep. We wouldn’t want your boss to find out his ditzy, little maid was snooping through guests’ room when she thought no one was awake. Would we?”

even as he brutalizes you, ramming his cock deep, bumping your limit, you can’t elicit anything louder than ragged panting. you could feel every throbbing, mighty inch, your walls fluttering and spasming as they stretched around him, and your stomach twisted into tight knots, but he had commanded you to be silent, and your body obeyed. drool gathers on your tongue, dribbling slow from where it rests against your chin, fully limp, and splattering against your breasts.

“There we go.” he chuckles, seeing your demise scribbled all over your puzzled, obedient expression. “You’re an obedient airhead.”

“I’m… an… obedient…. airhead…” you gurgle the words back to him, verbatim, your lips struggling to form the syllables as his thumb tugs at them. but you felt the words, deep in your being. you knew them to be true. because Alucard had spoken them.

an evil howl of laughter escapes his throat, baring his teeth in pure delight, “Aha, exactly, my dear. Exactly!” his free hand embraces your sex, clothed fingers dancing over your swollen clit, and your breathing gets heavier, still. your muscles tense, and you clench around his cock. “And so sensitive, aren’t you? With a tender, little clit.” a dark brow quirks, “I would wager, had I allowed it, you’d be screaming when I so much as do this…” his fingertips brush against your button and then pinch it. his trance is too strong for your body to misbehave, but your insides clamp down harder, a gurgled whine dying at the base of your throat, your eyes still fixed on him. “I can feel you trying to cum,” he grunts, shifting angles to pound at you from a fresh perspective. you slide against the lid of the coffin until your arms and free leg dangles off it, breasts jiggling out of your dress as his ferocious drilling reaches a truly maddening velocity. you’re limp, head rolling around against the coffin, mouth open and drooling, and your body is crumpled up as this man, no— this monster, uses it however he pleases. “tightening around me the deeper I go, oh you are a greedy, greedy little girl, aren’t you?” he’s taunting you again, looking over you: a mass of obsidian, porcelain, and ruby in the darkness of the room. “Sneaking in to raid my belongings, and then taking my cock as deep as I can bury it in your fragile guts, and cumming from it? How delightfully pathetic you are! How filthy!” he snickers, fucking your limp body with reckless abandon. you merely stare up at him, your mind void of any thoughts except the one he speaks into it. “You can cum, greedy thing.” he permits with a chuckle, “And make quite the mess of yourself when you do. I’ll have you lick your taste off of my cock.”

#alucard #alucard x reader #alucard x you #alucard hellsing #alucard smut #hellsing #hellsing ultimate #hellsing x reader #hellsing x you #hellsing smut

2K notes · View notes