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lots-of-pockets · 6 months

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Taken

Chapter: 1

Words: 3077

Warnings: kidnapping, dark Natasha, diapers and a brief mention of throwing up. Let know if I need to add anymore!

Summary: Deep deep down, Natasha knew this was wrong. Taking someone against their own free will was borderline psychotic, let alone very much illegal. But she couldn't help it. After months upon months of watching your every move, she'd become convinced that you were only person perfect enough to become her daughter. She would do whatever it takes to have you, no matter the consequence.

Natasha stares into the fire. It crackles and glows with a radiant gold flame, the smell of burning wood filling her senses. In her hand was a glass of her favourite red wine, the rich liquid velvety on her tongue.

The outside was piercing in contrast to the heat before her. The empty skies were a dull white, and freshly fallen snow was covering all the eye could see. Everything was quiet, muffled, the atmosphere holding a sense of serenity the summer months did not have. It was peaceful and calming, a cherished few moments Natasha allows herself to have in the evenings after a hot bath full of bubbles and her favourite music.

The dancing flames of the fire could be seen in Natasha's eyes as she finishes her wine, setting the class down onto the coffee table with a soft, barely audible thump. She sits back against the couch and tightens the grey, fluffy blanket around her shoulders, eyes drifting to the clock in the corner of the room.

11:35

It was nearly time.

The busy street was quietened by a large blanket of snow, a carpet of cotton batting falling everywhere you looked. As you walk your usual journey to work, it crunches loudly beneath your feet. Your fingers and toes feel numb and are beginning to ache, and you could see the misty fog escaping your lips with each exhale. The trees were rocking back and forth, creaking and groaning just like the sound of an old rocking chair.

One positive about rising this early in the morning was being able to hear the birds on the street. They fill your ears with soft chirps, and you find it almost impossible not to smile at the sound.

Behind you, you hear the sound of a vehicle approaching. Your senses were almost immediately on red alert. The road you were on was almost always deserted. It was narrow and only one way, and you knew there was no reason for anyone to be coming this way this early, especially in a car when the snow plow hadn't even been through.

Your breathing accelerates, and you feel yourself begin to sweat despite the freezing temperature. You try your best not to outwardly react and continue on your way, but the car behind you slows the closer it gets, and you feel yourself become almost paralysed with fear.

You close your eyes for a second and practically force a deep breath into your lungs. You then speed up your pace, knowing that even if the person in the car means no harm, it was better to be safe than sorry.

When you hear the car door open and shut, the fear becomes a tangible, living force that creeps over you like some hungry beast, and it immobilises you, raising the fine hairs on the back of your neck. Your legs pick up on their own accord, but it was no use.

Someone grabs you, and the scream of pure terror that escapes your lips was muffled by a large, cold hand. You flail your body; you kick, you scratch, but your attacker was stronger, larger, and it was evident you stood no chance.

The hand was soon replaced by a cloth, and your senses almost immediately become a blur. Your eyes become heavy, your body becomes a deadweight, and despite the last ditch effort to escape, everything fades into nothing.

When you come to, your disoriented brain takes a few moments to catch up with the events that had just concurred.

You notice you were no longer outside. You were on a bed, and the mattress beneath you was soft and comfortable. The jeans and coat you had on were no longer, replaced by a pair of pyjamas much like a toddler would wear.

Your eyes flicker almost subconsciously around the room. The only light came from a slit between the curtains at the window, the feeble brightness barely enough for you to make out anything.

You did, however, note that the room was of medium size, adorned with white furniture. You couldn't make out any sort of decorations, but the door held a single lock with a touch screen pad.

You stare at it for a moment, and something in your brain seems to click bringing your subconscious to the realisation of what had happened. You'd been kidnapped, someone had taken you.

An immediate feeling of dread creeps up from the pit of your stomach, and your pulse beats in your ears blocking out all other sound.

You could feel your fight or flight responses kick in, increasing your heart rate and flooding you with added adrenaline. You try to sit up, but something was pinning your wrists down. It tugs at your skin uncomfortably, and when you look up, you see that you'd been handcuffed, each metal circle attached to the wooden headboard of the bed.

At the sight, your fear only grows more. You try to scream, but when you open your mouth, you come to find that even words had deserted you. It leaves you to release a choked sob, and you feel hot wet fluid begin to dribble down your legs, a bastion of warm comfort in a moment of primal terror.

The door opposite beeps in warning before it opens, and you feel your stomach grip in protest as a women comes into view. She was tall, and her pose screamed power. Her broad shoulders were held high, but her eyes, a soft green in colour, were gentle, and full of warmth.

The stark difference would have confused you if it wasn't for the sense of overwhelming dread.

"Hi little one. I'm glad to see you're finally awake," The woman speaks in greeting as she locks the door behind her, "I was beginning to grow a little worried." She adds as she flickers on the small night light that was plugged in near the bed before easing herself down next to you.

It bathes the room in a soft glow finally allowing you to finally take in your surroundings.

You couldn't help but tremble in complete and utter terror as your eyes burn with the familiar sensation of tears.

"It's okay," the woman soothes in a soft coo as she reaches for something to your left. "I know you must be scared, and I'm sorry about that." Her hand returns into view holding a tissue, and you flinch almost violently as the woman makes gentle work of drying your cheeks.

She doesn't outwardly react to it, but her features soften and her touch gentles further. You still shift uncomfortably, and it prompts the woman's eyes to flicker down towards the lower half of your body.

When they take in the large wet spot beneath you, your skin prickles with the fear of the unknown. But the woman simply shakes her head, a playful, yet gentle glint in her eyes.

"We'll fix that," was all she says as she disposes of the soiled tissue, grabbing a small bottle of hand sanitizer from seemingly nowhere and squeezing a small amount out onto her hands, "my names Natasha, but you may only call me mama. I'm going to be looking after you from now on."

You simply stare, trying to mask your emotions and pretend like you weren't mere seconds away from emptying your stomach in complete disgust.

"And you're Y/n, right?" Natasha continues, staring at you with a look that tells you she was expecting an answer.

You manage a mere nod, not wanting to upset the woman by defying her. Right now, you had no idea what Natasha was capable of, and you didn't want to provoke her in any kind of way by disobeying.

Natasha smiles in satisfaction as she rises from the bed and heads over to the white dresser placed in the corner of the room, "You were out for a while, so I suspect you must be pretty hungry. I have dinner made, and you may have it once we have you nice and clean." When she turns, you see she was holding a familiar rectangle of padded cotton.

Your cheeks burn, but you soon come to the daunting realisation that the woman must have already seen you naked due to the unfamiliar pair of pyjamas you were currently adorned in.

The bile in your throat worsens when you realise that Natasha could have done absolutely anything to you, and you feel yourself begin to gag in both fear and absolute dread.

Your vision becomes blurry, and as you try your best to keep your last meal down, you distinctly feel one of your hands become free if it's confines. Your body was then turned sideways just in time for you to vomit up absolutely everything in your stomach.

"There there, I've got you. You're okay." A muffled voice fills your ears as a hand gently grazes up and down your back, and having those hands on you only furthers your disgust and you find yourself puking once again.

You want to tell Natasha to get the hell off of you. That how dare she touch you after what she'd done, but there were no more words left in you. You could barely find it in within you to remain conscious, and you deem that more important right now. You had to stay awake. You had to try and protect yourself.

"Are you done?" The voice questions, and you nod ever so slightly. You feel a soft hand grasp your own and raise it once again to rest above your head, the cold cuffs once again circling your wrist.

Through your blurry vision, you see Natasha leave the room, and you allow yourself a moment to close your eyes and get yourself together.

When the women returns, you note she was wearing different clothes. You internally smile in victory when you realise you must have puked on her.

Serves her right.

"Okay, let's get you changed." Natasha sits herself down at the end of the bed, and it was only then do you notice that your feet were tied up too.

"I'm going to untie your feet, but if you even so think about kicking me or harming my furniture, I'm going to leave you in your wet clothes for the rest of the night, do you understand?" Natasha's hand rests on the rope tied securely around your ankle, and though the eyes staring at you were still the same soft ones as before, this time, they held a look of warning.

A warning you did not want to test. Not right now when you were still in such a vulnerable position where this woman could so absolutely anything to you and you'd be powerless to stop it.

And so you nod, despite everything in you telling you to fight with all you could.

Your heart races as Natasha unties your feet, legs subconsciously moving of their own accord and rising to a bent position where your thighs were pressed against your stomach.

The woman allows this, and when her hands reach for the waistband of your pyjama pants, your fight or flight instincts break.

You begin to flail your body as much as you could, the woman's prior warnings dissipating into the back of your mind. You had to get out. You couldn't let Natasha do this to you.

Despite your attempts, the woman gets your pants off anyway.

"No!" You finally find your voice, and it comes out hoarse, trembling with fear, "no! Let me go. Let me go!" You cry out as your stomach heaves with sobs.

"Hush now," the woman lightly scolds as she successfully manages to slide the diaper beneath your squirming figure, "There is no need for you to get so upset. I am not hurting you, so I suggest you calm down before I keep my promise and put you right back into your wet pants."

You still at the threat, but you continue to sob. Tears flow down your cheeks, blurring your vision and soaking your hair. Gut-wrenching sobs that tear through your chest fill the otherwise quiet room, and you want nothing more than for all of this to just stop.

You want to go home. You want to be curled up on the couch with your mom watching your favourite movie.

Not here. Not here where you're being emotionally tormented with all the things you no longer have; where you no longer have your independence and would be subjected to the unknown.

"There, all done." You hear, and you once again feel your legs being secured into their former positions. The sheet beneath you was pulled off next, replaced by a dry one with quick and efficient ease despite your presence on the mattress.

Natasha then shifts up the bed slightly, her weight tipping the mattress as her hand comes up to cup your cheek and wipe away the tears.

You flinch, but allow it to happen. The woman obviously knows what she wants, and it was becoming evident nothing you did would stop her.

"No more tears now," another soft coo as a gentle thumb continues to trail over your skin, "you're okay little one. Deep breaths."

You shake your head, "I want...I want to...go home. Please...let me...go home!" You cry as you extraneously squirm to get out of your confines.

Through your blurred vision, you see Natasha shake her head, and your body was wracked with another onslaught of sobs, complete hopelessness converted into tears that pour down your face at lightning speed.

"I know that must be upsetting for you to hear, but you'll get used to it. I'm going to get your dinner. I expect you to be fully calm by time I get back." Natasha once again wipes off your cheeks, the material of the tissue rough against your skin.

You try your best to comply with the woman's wishes, your throat tightening in dismay when you force back the sob that so desperately wants to escape.

Natasha smiles as she gives your leg a soft pat before rising to her feet, "Good girl."

You say nothing, but Natasha doesn't seem to mind. She disappears from the room and returns a short while later carrying a tray that held a glass full of water and a bowl of what appears to be soup.

"You haven't earned the right to feed yourself just yet, so I'm going to do it for you." The woman explains as she sets the tray down onto the nightstand, picking up the bowl along with a plastic spoon.

Soon, said spoon was being held to your mouth, the plastic warm against your lips.

You stare at the woman for only a short moment before reluctantly allowing your lips to part, and Natasha smiles as she places the spoon into your mouth. It was soup, but due to your blocked nose, you couldn't tell which kind it was.

You don't particularly care however, because you weren't in the slightest bit hungry after throwing your guts up just a few moments ago.

"Good girl. Is that yummy?" Natasha coos as she refills the spoon and once again holds it to your lips.

It wasn't, but you nod anyway as you open your mouth and allow yourself to be fed. You were scared if you told the woman any different, you'd be punished and tied up for longer. If you couldn't get away from Natasha, you at least wanted out of these stupid cuffs.

Natasha smiles happily, "I'm glad. Mama worked hard and there's lots more if you're still hungry."

Your stomach churns in disgust at the woman calling herself that, but you nod along, fear constricting you from acting upon your thoughts.

Soon, the bowl was empty, and you watch as Natasha sets it down and picks up the glass of water. You go rigid when Natasha places her hand on the back of your neck to elevate your head, hating the feeling of her touching you.

"Drink." Natasha prompts, and you quickly down over half of the water in the glass.

The woman sets the glass back next to the bowl and reaches for the blanket that was folded and placed over the footboard of the bed, "It's late. Time for bed." She shakes it out and lays it over your body.

"There's a baby monitor placed on the shelf up there, and it can see and hear you. If you need anything, I want you to call for me. I can't help you if I don't know anything is wrong." She brushes the hair saturated with tears out of your face before tucking it behind your ear.

You force yourself to nod.

Natasha smiles and gives your cheek one last gentle touch before rising to her feet, picking up the tray before heading towards the door, "Goodnight little one." She calls softly before leaving the room.

You don't reply.

Sleep does not come easy.

Fear prickles at the base of your spine each time you feels yourself beginning to drift off, a terrible sense of anxiety creeping over you at every little sound you hear.

The light thud of footsteps, the branches of the trees outside hitting the glass windows. Even the sounds of the house settling were unnerving, and no matter what you did, the subconscious of dreamland just didn't want to come.

A part of you wonders if anyone had realised you were missing. You keep to yourself mostly. Didn't have many friends or acquaintances. The only person you did have was your mom, and it had been nearly six months since the effort had been made for a visit. You decide that no, no one would have noticed, and because of your tendency to stay locked up in your apartment for weeks on end, no one would for a while leaving you to Natasha's mercy.

A part of you wants to call out for her. You want to beg her to be un-cuffed so you could at least try and get comfortable. But fear prevents you from doing so. It prevents you from even opening her mouth, so all you could do was lay here until morning comes.

A brand new day would greet you, and your nightmare would continue.

Your thoughts would be appreciated! ♥️

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #marvel agere #age regression #natasha romanoff x little!reader #tw kidnapping #stockhom syndrome #mommy natasha romanoff #dark natasha romanoff #natasha x y/n #black widow #marvel #fluff

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asbealthgn · 1 year

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(part one here)

Steve drives over the Munson trailer first thing in the morning after spending the night at Robin’s. He feels a little bad since he knows that Eddie doesn’t like getting up early, but Steve’s pretty desperate to talk to him. Now that he knows he has feelings for Eddie, he doesn’t want to waste a second.

Wayne’s truck is parked outside the trailer, meaning he’s home from work, but he’s probably in bed by now. All the same, Steve goes around to Eddie’s window instead of the door. He kicks a crate over to stand on to reach the glass and raps his knuckles against it. After maybe thirty seconds, Steve hears motion inside and sees Eddie appear at the window. Steve can’t quite figure out what his expression is—some mix of apprehension and embarrassment and hope.

Eddie slides open the window. “What do you want, Harrington?” he asks.

“Can we talk?” Steve asks. Eddie stares back at him for a long moment.

“What about?”

Steve curls his hand around the window sill. “C’mon, you know what about.”

Eddie is silent for a long moment before shaking his head. “Can we just forget it ever happened?” he asks, “Pretend you never heard anything?”

“Eds, please,” Steve says, ready to start begging. “Will you just let me in? Or come out here so we can talk?”

He’s afraid Eddie’s going to shut the window. The way he’s eyeing it is definitely concerning, so Steve puts his other hand on the window sill as a deterrent. Eddie looks down at his hands and then sighs.

“Meet me out front on the couch,” he says. He backs away from the window and disappears to where Steve can’t see him. This is progress though.

Steve makes his way back around the trailer. He skips up the porch steps and settles in on the couch. A few seconds later, Eddie emerges wearing a hoodie, his hands inside his sleeves and arms crossed. It’s a little cold out here, but not freezing. Steve thinks it’s more a defense mechanism than a response to the temperature. Eddie sits down on the couch, leaving a couple feet between them.

“Eddie—” Steve starts.

“Listen, I’m really sorry,” Eddie says, squeezing his arms tighter around himself. “I didn’t mean for you to hear that.”

“It’s okay, I—”

“I get it if you don’t want to be friends anymore, seriously,” Eddie says, “I know I made things weird—”

“—no, Eddie—”

“—but I do really want to be friends with you,” Eddie says, plowing over Steve. “Our friendship means so much to me, and I don’t want to do anything to fuck it up.”

“Eddie—”

“So please, please just pretend like I never said anything. I can get over it, I can—”

“—Eddie, will you please—”

“—I get that you’re straight, I know nothing will happen between us, I don’t want to ruin—”

Clearly this approach is not working. If Eddie isn’t going to let Steve get a word in edgewise then he’ll just have to resort to more drastic measures. And maybe this is really stupid, but it’s honestly the only thing Steve can think of to shut him up and get his point across at the same time.

He grabs Eddie’s face in both hands and kisses him.

If Steve still had any doubts about his feelings for Eddie, then this puts them to rest. He feels warmth spread out from his belly through the rest of his body. God, he likes kissing Eddie. It takes a few seconds for his brain to catch up and realize that Eddie is completely frozen against him.

He pulls back. Eddie’s eyes are wide, mouth falling open. The seconds stretch without a response, so Steve speaks. “You didn’t ruin anything,” he says, brushing his thumbs lightly over Eddie’s cheeks. “And I don’t want to forget what you said. It’s what made me realize that I have feelings for you.”

That finally gets a reaction out of Eddie, a series of quick blinks. “You…have feelings for me?” Eddie asks, voice almost inaudible.

Steve nods. “I do,” he says, “I really do.”

“Kiss me again,” Eddie whispers.

So Steve does, leaning forward and pressing his lips back to Eddie’s. This time, Eddie kisses him back, and fuck. This is everything Steve could have hoped for and somehow so much more. It’s only been about seven hours since he figured out he likes Eddie and he already doesn’t know how he’s lived his whole life without kissing him. He doesn’t know how he’s ever going to stop.

“Steve,” Eddie murmurs, pulling back slightly. Steve can’t quite hold back the whine that starts in the back of his throat, which makes Eddie smile. “We should go inside,” he says, glancing around. It’s not like there’s anyone else out here, but they’re still pretty exposed.

Steve gets up and follows Eddie inside. As soon as the door shuts behind them, Steve grabs Eddie again and pushes him up against it, kissing him. Eddie starts to say his name, but Steve swallows the sound, desperate to never let go of Eddie again.

From the direction of the kitchen, there's the sound of a throat clearing.

Jerking back, Steve looks over and sees Wayne standing by the counter, eyebrows raised over the edge of his Garfield mug. His eyes are sparkling.

“Mornin’, Steve.”

tagging: @bisexualdisastersworld @cr0w-culture @axl-is-online @awkotaco24 @justforthedead89 @bumblemyrtle @justmiiriam @brassreign @beautifulphantomstarlight @croatoan-like-its-hot @cosmicanamnesis

#i don't plan on writing more of this #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #wayne munson #stranger things #ficlet

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honeystwiggypeach · 2 years

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Funny thought, imagine gojo, geto, nanami and toji reaction when their baby tries to breastfeed on them like reader wasn’t home or was busy in another room while they take care of the baby and they were holding them in their bare naked chest so the baby thought that they had food like momma does. What would their thoughts be?

#iwantsomedilfcontent

I will gladly provide you dilf content, because unfortunately I am unhinged for beefy men😞and bestie with a few of these men I don’t think it’s a one time i like they don’t learn that poor baby is going to just try the next time they pick baby up😭tysm for requesting let me know if you want to see anything else because I love requests!!(I’ll make a jjk masterlist soon guys😭😭)

Tw- breastfeeding, idk how to call it but whatever is described in the request, also the word nipple😭, I do 100% know what you mean but like idk how to phrase half of it and it could be bad so idk! Let me know if I missed anything!!

Gojo

You’d fallen asleep pretty early and of course, Gojo thought it’d be nice to let you rest so of course when your baby started to cry he’d slowly gotten out of bed and creeped over to her cradle picking her up and laying her against his warm bare chest.

And she just scrunched up closer as he worked his way back in bed beside you. It normally took her awhile to go back to sleep anyways.

As Gojo adjusts himself he lowers her a bit down in his chest and poor little angel takes the opportunity.

Gojo winces.

He pushes her off of himself tsking lightly as he wags his finger like she knows any better before he gets her a bottle.

Geto

If you want me to be honest, it’s not the first time it’s happened😞it happened with the girls too but he just never learns.

You told him that morning to when you’d glanced over to see your son continuously try and lean over to get ahold of his dad’s chest so he’d been warned he just seriously couldn’t believe you!

“My boy would never do that” he scoffs turning as he bounces him on his hip lightly.

That is until you hear him shriek loudly.

“Oh what happened” you ask faux concern lacing your voice, you already know what happened.

“He bit my nipple!” Geto tells you holding his nipple with one hand and his son in his other arm.

He limps to the door as your precious baby claps and giggles happily when he sees his sisters appear behind you with their brows furrowed.

Needless to say, Geto did not take it well because his son bit him.

Nanami

You were taking a well deserved nap, Nanami having heard his alarm go off gently bounced your little girl in his arms.

The only sound in the house really being your soft snores and your daughter’s little gurgles.

Nanami pours the milk into the bottle before he places it into the warmer. Before he can even take it out he feels his daughter wiggle in his grasp, before she can do what she plans to Nanami adjusts her, “not today squirt” he whispers and she whines loudly to impatient to wait for her bottle.

Toji

You’re both laying in bed, Megumi is still asleep but your daughter is wide awake, she has been for quite some time. You’re scrolling through your phone and Toji has your daughter propped up on his stomach as she sits up.

She glances down and back up at him, before he knows it she’s lunging at him.

He pushes her back up by her forehead when he realizes and she’s got the cutest little pout obviously as she’s a baby she doesn’t realize it isn’t the same, you turn when Toji looks at you with furrowed brows as your baby continues to try and plow right through his hand with the determination of a grown man you burst out into laughter, Toji however is not impressed.

Pls send more dad!jjk they’re so fun to write I love it!!!

#anons #requests #reader insert #x reader #mom!reader #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #dad!gojo x reader #dad!gojo #geto x reader #dad!Geto x reader #dad!geto #nanami x reader #dad!nanami #dad!nanami x reader #toji x reader #dad!toji #dad!toji x reader

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ellephlox · 9 months

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Muted Dawn

Pairing: Matt x fem!reader

Summary: You get mugged in the middle of the night, but Matt isn't there to save you.

Warnings: mugging, canon-typical violence, swearing, injuries, physical/verbal assault

In mid-summer, the midnight air of New York had a surreal balminess to it. You wore a tank top and a thin red jacket on top, your suitcase rolling loudly behind you as you hurried down the sidewalk. Every crack, every pebble, every sewer grate — they were all thunderclaps compared to the otherwise quiet evening. The luggage was too heavy to carry, though, so it would have to roll behind you.

It was a long day. You'd flown out to visit family, and your return flight was supposed to be midday. It had been cancelled, though, leaving you to scramble for a layover that could get you to New York by morning. It was a complete shit show, and you'd had to sprint to your gates at the airport with this stupid shitty suitcase that you were half-tempted to just dump in the garbage.

Matt still thought you'd arrived in the evening. He texted you earlier that he had a case to work on with Foggy, and that he'd be up in the office plowing through work, probably until early morning.

You didn't have the heart to tell him that you'd actually touched down in New York at eleven p.m. because that would be a surefire way to pull Matt out of work to meet you at the airport. Dragging him from his responsibilities — which were already too numerous — was the last thing you wanted.

So, solo travel in the middle of the night was your only option. You took the airport train to the nearest station, and from there took a train, and from there took another train that deposited you at 50th Street. Matt's apartment was only a ten minute walk, tops, from the station. Just a short walk. Too short to justify calling an Uber, mostly because you didn't exactly have a lot of money left in your wallet and your next paycheck wasn't for another few days.

Thump thump thump thump thump thump thump—

"Shit," you said aloud, staring between your luggage wheels and the sidewalk, which had switched from mildly smooth to practically cobbled. That didn't bode well for your plan to walk quietly back to the apartment. You snapped the handle down and tried to carry the suitcase again, but managed only to go a few steps before your arm felt as though it were going to break off. "Come on."

"Need some help?" The voice that came from the shadows was most definitely not Matt's, and goosebumps ran down your arms immediately. You didn't bother answering; it was always best to ignore anyone who tried talking to you on the streets of Hell's Kitchen. To regain some speed you pulled your handle back out — no sense in trying to be quiet now — and continued on your way, the thumps more rapid this time as you picked up the pace.

Thumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthump—

"I asked you a question, darling." To your horror, mingled with the sound of your suitcase wheels smashing along the sidewalk were now footsteps, and a figure appeared in the corner of your eye.

"You gonna answer? Not very nice of you." He jogged in front of you, blocking your way effectively, and now you could properly see him. He was pale — practically pasty in the moonlight — and wore a sweatshirt so stained it might as well have been a used napkin at a greasy fast food joint. He had a beard, untamed and straggly, and despite the wild look to him that suggested he was hungry, he was big. Most definitely someone you didn't want to try taking on in a fight.

"Get the hell out of my way," you snapped at him.

"I want to see what's in that suitcase. It's making a hell of a racket."

"Sorry to disappoint." You tried to weave your way around him, but he stepped in front of you again.

Damn it. You suddenly regretted not texting Matt about your late arrival. If you had, you wouldn't be alone on the street right now — Matt would have been beside you — and this wouldn't be happening. Fear, potent and throbbing, swirled in your stomach like a dense fog. You felt like a wild animal, ensnared in a trap with nowhere to go. You glanced behind you; the street was just as empty and silent, with the few streetlights flickering menacingly as though about to burn out.

"Look, bitch, you want to do this the easy or the hard way?"

"I said, let me get by. I don't want any trouble."

"Trouble?" he said, then laughed, scanning you from head to toe. "You look like little Red Riding Hood. What're you going to do?"

"I can scream. People will come and you'll be in deep shit."

"You're a fucking idiot if you think that. These back streets of Hell's Kitchen are the furthest you can get from help, darling."

"Unless the devil hears me," you breathed out, depending on the hope that this man had heard of Matt's other persona. "Then I have a good feeling your legs will get broken. You heard of him?"

Except the devil wasn't out tonight. He was instead filing paperwork, far away on the other end of the Kitchen, and probably wearing a suit. Unless the man in front of you fell for the bluff... you were thoroughly screwed.

But the man pulled out a gun, which you had not been expecting. "Devil ain't out here. No one's seen him in a few days. Hard way it is, then. You scream, darling, and I'll shoot you between the eyes."

You froze. Never had you felt so helpless in your life. Your heart was banging against your chest like a frantic bird, trying to escape, and yet your limbs wouldn't move, for fear of that black weapon pointing directly at your head. "Please," you said finally, the word coming out in a rasp. "I just want to go home."

"And you can, once you gimme what I want." The man pointed the gun at the suitcase. "Open it up."

You trembled slightly. Should you try fighting him? Sure, Matt had taught you some basic self-defense, but this man had a gun. What could you do against that? Maybe you could try grabbing the gun, or kicking it from his hands, but... that was ridiculous. You had hardly any training. Most likely you'd end up falling on your ass, and then the guy would put a bullet in you.

No, your best chance was to comply. Slowly you bent down and fumbled with the clasp of the suitcase, your hands shaking so hard that it wouldn't open up.

"I said open it!" the man demanded, jabbing the gun against your temple. It was cold and hard, and against your volition you yelped, squeezing your eyes shut. When the bullet didn't come, you slowly opened your eyes, and resumed your struggle with the clasp, finally popping it open. Shame grazed your face as you opened the luggage to unfolded laundry and toiletries haphazardly thrown in; not that this man cared, but somehow you felt as though your last shred of dignity was chewed up and spat on.

Maybe Matt would finish his paperwork early and put on the suit. Maybe he could hear you, right now, and he was on his way, leaping across rooftops. But no one was coming, and you stepped back, allowing the man to root through your belongings. He stooped over the suitcase, his gun now dangling at your side. You eyed him. Though you weren't exactly fast, especially compared to Matt, maybe you could make a break for it, and at least get away. Your suitcase was a lost cause at this point, but frankly, you didn't care.

Do it. Now. While he's distracted. Before you could lose your nerve, you took off, terror burning in your veins and making you pump your arms as hard as you could. You were only a few blocks from home, not far at all —

But footsteps rang behind you, heavy and faster than you. You chanced a look over your shoulder, and hardly had time to react before the man behind you overtook you entirely, tackling you to the sidewalk. Pavement slashed and gnawed against your skin, burning white hot — your cheek, your knees, the palms of your hands.

"Never run away from me like that before I'm done," the man said, in an almost childish way, as though a toy had been taken from him. He grabbed you by your arm and pulled you roughly to your feet. "I'm not finished with you yet."

By this point, tears were flowing down your cheeks, and all sense of shame was gone. Nothing mattered now except surviving, leaving this man and getting into the safety of home. Desperately you thought of the couch, and the shower, and bed, places that had seemed so close just ten minutes ago and now felt impossibly far away. "Please," you begged him. "Please. Take whatever you want, I just want to leave. Please."

He wrenched your arm in response, twisting it back much farther than it wanted to go. You shrieked, thinking that your arm must be broken, but then he let go and slapped your face, right across the cheek that still burned from the fall.

"Quiet!" he said roughly. "Let me finish." He kept his grip on your arm as he bent down to return to the suitcase, and you were yanked off your feet, falling to the ground like some absurd doll in the hands of an aggressive six-year-old. You didn't watch closely what the man took, because your vision was too blurred, but a dazed glance downwards told you that your laptop, earbuds, and jewelry were gone.

"Where's your wallet?" he asked, turning back to you. You didn't question him at all and reached into your pocket, your fingertips searching obediently for the wallet. Where are you, Matt? The man wasn't patient, though, and plunged his hand into your pocket to take over. You stayed stock still, the feeling of his hand against your thigh more disturbing than you could have predicted, as he extracted the wallet, then your phone, and pushed you away.

"Now here's what's going to happen," he said, pulling the gun out again. "I'm gonna let you live, because bodies are hard to take care of. But if you try squealing, if you go running off to a cop — if you tell anyone at all, I swear I'm going to find you and kill you." He took out your license and read it aloud — your name, your height, your weight, your address. "See, darling, I know everything about you. And if I get a whiff that you've tried telling someone about this little exchange we had tonight, I'll come to your address, and I'll slit your throat. Got it, darling?"

You nodded violently.

"Now get out of here," he said, and shoved you one last time. You didn't hesitate, and ran.

He could have taken more. Your clothing, your bracelet from Matt that you wore, your body, your life. All those you still had. The things he'd taken were meaningless, just trinkets. Things you could buy again.

But this reasoning didn't comfort you at all, and the moment you were in the safety of the apartment, with the door locked, you broke down altogether. You could hardly breathe, and every two seconds you ran to the window to check the street, certain that you'd see that stained sweatshirt ambling along the sidewalk, or hear a sudden knock at the door. Your phone was gone, so there was no way to call 911 if you needed to. And Matt wouldn't be able to reach you, either. You wished, like never before, that you could have his hearing. The ability to know when Matt was on his way back, and to hear him coming down the sidewalk, would be infinitely comforting; even more so would be the assurance that you'd hear that man who mugged you if he decided to come to the apartment.

But all you could hear was the whir of the refrigerator and your own shallow breaths.

It was therefore a heart-wrenching shock when you heard the deadbolt unlock, maybe an hour later. Maybe two hours later, or three. You weren't sure; time was a vortex, or even a black hole, with an event horizon so monstrous that everything was sucked into it.

Matt's home. As if you were dropped into an icy bath, you suddenly leapt to your feet. You hadn't showered. Your clothing was torn at the knees, and that man's scent was probably all over you, not to mention blood was smeared across your face and hands from the scrapes. Not good. Not good at all.

You ran into the bathroom just as the front door sprung open, and you only caught the smallest glimpse of the storm cloud of emotion already on Matt's face before you slammed the bathroom door shut and locked it.

Why, exactly, you were hiding from him, when there was no doubt he could smell the man and blood either way, wasn't clear to you. Maybe it was the shame of him seeing you like this. He was so capable, so responsible, and to sense you on the floor like a puddle... it made you feel even worse than you already felt. Yes, you'd wanted Matt to save you, but it was too late now, wasn't it? Now you were just going to be another thing he had to take care of.

So, a shower it was.

Matt's fist pounded on the door. "Y/N? What happened?"

"I'm showering."

"It's two in the morning. I can smell your blood and your heart is flying. What happened?"

This time, it wasn't Matt asking, but the Devil of Hell's Kitchen. You could hear it in the low growl of his voice, the restlessness that simultaneously wanted to defend you as well as throw a punch at something.

"I'm okay, Matt. I'm okay. I just need a minute to clean up," you told him, starting the water. "Please."

"Y/N, if you don't unlock this door, I'm going to knock it off its hinges."

The thought made new tears spring to your eyes all over again. Your money — all gone. You'd have to cancel your credit cards now. And while you'd spent most of your money while visiting family, you'd had at least two twenties in your wallet — forty dollars, now gone, and forty dollars less to fix a broken door with.

Matt must have sensed the tears, because his next words were much gentler. "Whatever happened, you can tell me. I can—"

He fell silent. You peeled off your jacket, examining the scrapes on your hands briefly. Those would sting in the water, undoubtedly. Taking care of them was an imperative. Matt had a case to work on, and a city to save. The thought of him being preoccupied with your damn hands was enough to make you want to throw your fist into the wall with anger. Anger with yourself. How could you have let yourself get mugged? If you'd just called a fucking Uber from the station, then this would never have happened.

Matt said something on the other side of the door, too softly for you to hear.

"Didn't catch that," you said, as casually as possible. Priority number one was making sure Matt didn't know the extent to which you were freaked out.

"I said, who did this?"

"I don't know," you said evenly. It was harder than you thought it would be to keep your voice steady, when every instinct in you wanted to say it with a sob, and to curl back up on the floor. Standing was too hard, listening to Matt was too hard, simply breathing was too hard — every time you closed your eyes, the feeling of the gun against your temple returned to you.

There was a sudden click, and the door swung open. Matt had unlocked it, somehow, and you didn't have the energy to question how he'd done it.

His presence was like a live electric wire as he stepped into the room. You could feel the tension rising within him, threatening to spill over if you didn't give a name or a hint of what happened. You crossed your arms, wishing you'd left your jacket on, even though it didn't make a difference for what Matt could sense about you. The scrape on your face seared angrily and the fleeting thought passed through you that Matt could probably feel the heat of it just as clearly as you.

"I said I was fine," you said finally, keeping your voice controlled. "I told you I needed a minute."

"That doesn't matter when you're hurt. I need to know how hurt. Let me just feel—"

"Matt, please." You were shaking now, and torn between collapsing into his arms and never letting him know the extent to which you were absolutely petrified. Matt froze.

"Do you need me to leave?" he asked softly.

"I... no. I don't know what I need. I need..." A thrill of horror raced through you at the realization that you hadn't checked the window in awhile. What if the man was coming up the street now, on his way to break in and finish the deed with a bullet in your head? A bullet in Matt's head? You brushed by him and hurried to the window, squinting out at the dark.

Matt followed, and this time he didn't wait before coming up right behind you and cupping your cheek with his hand. It was gentle, but not a romantic act — you could feel the way his fingertips grazed over the scrape, accounting for the grit and sweat and blood that adorned it. Unable to bring yourself to move, you stood like a deer in the headlights as his hands then moved to your temples.

"No concussion," he said, but his jaw remained just as tight as he lowered his fingers to your own hands, breezing over them gingerly.

"These scrapes need to be cleaned." His face tensed as his hand hovered near your thigh. "Did he—?"

"No. No, I was just..." Mugged. It was too embarrassing to admit, and the word lodged in your throat. "Just some things were taken. Phone. Wallet. Suitcase."

"Jesus, at seven in the evening? Did anyone see? I want a name. A description. Anything. I'll find him and—"

"It wasn't seven in the evening." You dipped your head, tears welling again. "My plane was delayed."

You feared that he was going to be pissed, but instead he simply looked bemused. "Why didn't you say anything? I would've met you at the airport."

"Because you had work," you said, more stiffly. "And I know that me getting robbed looks bad, but I don't want to be your burden. Foggy needed your help tonight, not me."

"Not you? That's bullshit, Y/N," Matt said, and the electricity that had been buzzing in his movements finally exploded. "The reason I put on the damn suit anyway is because I care about people, including you. And you — you're above the rest, because I love you. Don't you see that? I need this, I need to find whoever did this, because if I don't, then I've failed you. I've failed myself, I've failed the city, I've failed my faith."

"Matt, it's not that serious. I overreacted, that's all."

"Like hell you overreacted. How do you think I felt when I left work and heard your heartbeat from two blocks away, racing like you were staring death in the face? When I got into the apartment and could smell your blood? When I came in here and could taste your fear?"

"I didn't ask you to sense those things," you snapped, and the moment the words were out of your mouth, you regretted them. It wasn't as though you could have simply elected to not see Matt that time he'd arrived at the apartment, torn up and bloody, or simply turned your head when you'd heard him yelling in the hospital as Claire stitched up his guts. In fact, it was impossible to not pay attention even more at times like that. Your mouth was dry as you shook your head. "I'm sorry, Matt. I don't mean that."

Still, he didn't get mad at you. "I know."

And it was that, his patience despite the energy palpitating in his fists that made you sink onto the couch, placing your face in your hands. "Shit, I'm so sorry. I... I can tell you what happened. It's just that admitting it makes it so much more real. It's humiliating."

Matt sat next to you, just shy of touching you. Waiting for your permission, likely. "Who was it?"

"Bearded man. Stained sweatshirt, really large — probably six foot four."

"Where?"

"Three blocks directly west of us."

"How did you get the scrapes?"

You closed your eyes. "I tried to get away. He tackled me. There was a gun, too. He kept it pointed at my head, and — Oh, God. He said if I told anyone, that he'd come here. He's got our address because of my license. He said he'd come here with the gun and—"

"Pointed at your head?" Matt's voice dropped to a dangerous low again, reminiscent of the devil. "You could've been killed." He got to his feet, stalking to the cabinet and unbuttoning his shirt.

"Matt," you said weakly, unsure of how to make the request for him to stay. He wanted to leave. He needed to let out the energy and protect, as was his standard, but you needed him to protect from here. The thought of being alone in the apartment was unbearable; you wanted him by your side, keeping you safe with his presence, not the mask.

"I wasn't there for you." Matt's fists were clenching and unclenching rhythmically as he stood in front of the suit, shirtless. Contemplating, or strategizing? You weren't sure. "I — if he had shot you — I can't—"

"Matt," you said again, louder this time. "I need—"

You were about to say "you" but the energy broiling in Matt's stance made you fall short. He needed to do this. You could be alone for a bit longer, you told yourself. "I need the bandages," you finished. "They're... not in the bathroom."

"They're under the kitchen sink," Matt said, and suddenly he turned around, his expression softer. "Let me help."

Inwardly sighing, you sat on the armchair, hugging your knees, while Matt cleaned your scrapes with a steady hand. He didn't say a word as he worked, his eyes darting about uncharacteristically. You still couldn't get a read on exactly what he was thinking. There was no chance he'd be angry at you, but that didn't preclude him from being disappointed.

How many other people would have been able to hold their own against that man? Everyone else in Matt's circle would have been capable. Frank, Jessica, Danny, Luke — they wouldn't have been even fazed at all. Elektra would have had a field day with him. Even Karen and Foggy had proved themselves quick to react in dangerous situations, and you couldn't help but think anyone in that situation other than you would have walked away unscathed. Your cheeks burned at the thought, as much as you willed them not to.

"What is it?" Matt said, his voice so low it was almost a whisper.

Of course he'd notice the shift in your temperature.

"Maybe I deserved it," you said, a bit bitterly. "I shouldn't have been walking out there. Like you said, I could've called you. And I didn't. I could've learned more self-defense over the past few years, and I haven't. It's my own stupidity that's got me where I am."

Matt stilled. "You're blaming yourself?"

"I'm blaming my lack of foresight."

He resumed dabbing at your hands, and was silent for so long that you thought he wasn't going to answer. Finally, he said, "With that line of reasoning, then it's my fault Elena Cardenas was killed. I should have done more."

"That's not the same, and you know it."

He ignored you. "It's also my fault that Foggy got shot, that time we were in Reyes's office. If I had been listening more closely to what was going on down the street, then I would have heard the threat coming sooner."

"Matt, come on. You know what I meant."

"And it's my fault that Fisk got out of prison. If I had the wherewithal to kill him the first day I met him, he would never have—"

"Stop it!"

"Do you get it?" he whispered. "It's not your fault. We could preoccupy ourselves all day with the ifs that might have changed what happened. But you can't beat yourself up over the ifs that you couldn't have predicted. The bad people in this world don't get to benefit from your own self-degradation. Never take the fall for something they've done."

You let out a short laugh through the tears that caught in your eyes. "You give great advice, Matt, but you're terrible at following it yourself."

"Touché. Take off your pants for me?"

You smiled. "You really know how to sweet-talk a girl."

Matt brushed his thumbs over the corners of your eyes, exactly where they were still damp. "Well, maybe once your knees are cleaned up, I'll show you how it's really done."

You pulled off your pants and tossed them onto the couch. "You're not... heading out onto the street?"

"I'd rather be here."

You hardly dared to believe it. "You sure?"

"Positive." He didn't hesitate as he bent down onto the floor, methodically poring over the scrapes with the washcloth. "You're my priority."

A warm glow flushed through your cheeks, this time out of relief, and the smile that tugged at Matt's lips told you that he sensed it. You let him finish bandaging up your knees before you grabbed his arm and pulled him next to you on the armchair. There wasn't much space, but you lifted your knees so that he was partially underneath you, squeezed next to one another so tightly that you could feel his heartbeat.

"Hey," you said, after a moment. "How'd you unlock the bathroom door without a key so quickly?"

"It's an easy trick. Stick showed me years ago."

"Can you show me?"

"A good magician keeps his secrets," Matt said. At your frown, he laughed. "I'll show you tomorrow."

"I love you," you said, resting your head on his shoulder.

"I love you more than you'll ever know," he answered. You fell asleep to his hand running through your hair, the billboard outside rotating between hues of violet and cobalt, and the faint thrum of the muted air conditioner in the apartment above.

When you woke, you were in bed. It was still early; the dawn outside was muted. Matt must have carried you into the bedroom, because you had no memory of moving in there yourself. For a moment you feared he had taken to the streets, but feeling the warmth on your left, he was still there, and had been for some time. You shifted, trying to get nearer to his warmth. He said nothing but tugged you in even closer, his arms and legs thrown over you protectively.

What if you had been shot and killed? The thought was eerie. This bed would be empty. Matt would surely be out for the man's blood. And all this... you wouldn't ever get to experience it again. It was far too easy to take each day for granted. Far, far too easy.

One day at a time, then, you decided, and closed your eyes again as Matt's hand crept over your own.

#matt murdock #reader insert #matt murdock x reader #marvel #daredevil #daredevil x reader #reader #mcu #x reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #hurt/comfort

767 notes · View notes

konigsblog · 8 months

Text

SFW and NSFW headcannons for each 141 character...

༉‧₊˚. PRICE

SFW

never lets you out bed in the morning. his grip is firm and tight as he sleeps, so if you ever wake up before him, you're stuck. follows you into the shower, the water burning hot as he lathers soap (not john mactavish...) onto your back. definitely holds you against his chest whilst naked and bare, the warmth comforting.

really appreciates getting drunk with you. not in public, a few glasses of whine and some whiskey and beer, your smile making his heart warm.

NSFW

corruption kink, that's it. definitely enjoys the idea of ruining you into a wet mess, desperate and always begging for his meaty, thick cock. he'll watch as you spread your cunt apart, open and spread, presenting yourself to him and letting him admire your wetness.

choking and headlocks... please. his thick, burly arm wrapped around your neck as he plows into you, pounding deep into your cunt, pussy dripping and sticky. also places and applys pressure onto your throat, fucking you against his desk, dick sliding in and out your tight hole as he degrades you for being so greedy.

༉‧₊˚. GHOST

SFW

drinks tea with 2tsp of sugar and milk. he'll lie about it, telling new recruits that he only drinks black tea. the only person that knows about this is price, seeing the light brown tea before he'd put a lid on it, keeping it secret and laughing about it to himself.

hates early mornings, but forces himself to wake up at 5am. definitely goes on morning runs after his sugar boost, probably addicted to energy drinks yet refuses to admit it.

NSFW

enjoys a handjob, a lot. loves the way you stroke him, his dick twitching and throbbing with each thrust, his head thrown back, taking another drag from his cigarette while you jerk him off.

loves throat fucking and doggy style. true believer that simon's an ass man, and you can't tell me otherwise. he adores the sounds of your gags; the struggle as he bulges out your throat, sloppy sounds from the saliva and his hard cock thrusted down your throat, making you gasp and pant. and just can't get enough of the way you ass looks and bounces when he fucks you, one hand on the small of your back as he plows into you.

༉‧₊˚. SOAP

SFW

loves taking you out on dates. anywhere, could be a picnic during the summer, or a winter walk to a warm coffee shop in the winter. just little dates, sometimes dinner dates.

always comes back with a bouquet of flowers everytime a flower dies. takes a flower and keeps it with him to know when the flowers die, turning up with another bouquet of fresh flowers, letting you place them in the vase. you always comment on how it's the perfect time, never letting you know how he knows.

NSFW

spitting kink. not just in your mouth, but onto your pussy. using his saliva as lube to ease inside your dripping pussy, although your wetness is enough. definitely fucks into you roughly, praise and heavy breathing against your ears as you tighten around him.

always down to experiment. would try wax play, sucking on your raw nipples and running his tongue over you hardened tits, sucking on them whilst you shudder and shake, weep and squirm. your sobs and mewls going to his hard length, rubbing his bulge against your clothed pussy.

sticks his cock into your panties and humps your panties, slit coated in cum, thick dick pushed inside and coating your panties in cum and your slick.

༉‧₊˚. GAZ

SFW

appreciates perfume and cologne. really does enjoy a good smelling cologne, and can't get enough of it whenever you smell like roses and vanilla. usually wears something woodsy, but with a note of vanilla.

he will do skincare with you, and will always ask about each product. kyle loves doing face masks, your hands smearing a clay mask onto his face, complaining about the burning sensation before rinsing it off. definitely touches his face the entire day because it's softer.

NSFW

again, an ass man. he'd rim you, sucking as your asshole and lapping over it, coating it in spit and teasing your pussy with his fingers. his grip is usually firm as he strokes his tongue back forth along your asshole, making you shudder and mewl for mercy -- to be fucked ruthlessly.

anal with him... i'd do anything for it. he thrusts so deep into you, fucking you with a mean passion, praising and degrading you till you're a confused, fucked-out, dumb mess!! also enjoys a blowjob like simon; especially if it's in the morning after he wakes up with morning wood, his cock smacking against his abdomen as you lick up his shaft, sucking him off nicely.

reblogs and comments are appreciated 🌷

479 notes · View notes

ohbo-ohno · 8 months

Note

what happens the first time Johnny comes home with some new sex toys for reader?? Cue your absolute PANIC as he pulls them out to show you, ecstatic at the thought of trying them out when Simon gets home, and then Johnny having to do damage control when he sees how he’s freaked out his precious baby :////

YOU!!!!!! Get back here!!!!!! You genius!!!!!

1.6k, nsfw below the cut. this one’s pretty long lol it really got away from me. pretend it’s a gift since i just hit 100 followers <3

Johnny’s like a dog with a bone when it comes to you - he can literally never get enough. When you don’t wake up to his mouth licking and sucking somewhere on you, you wake up to the feeling of him humping your back. On one occasion Simon threatened to “cage your little cock if it’s all you can think with, Johnny.” So like… you know they use toys. You probably should’ve expected this at some point.

But knowing they are probably comfortable using toys and staring at the goddamn spread of sex toys on the dinner table? Two very different things.

There are things you can’t even name. You spot several different types of vibrators, butt plugs of varying sizes, anal beads, nipple clamps, a few gags smaller than the ones they’d used on you a few times, several loops of rope and handcuffs, a fucking hook that you don’t even want to think about what it could be used for, and the goddamn crème de la crème - a butt plug with a fucking tail hanging from Johnny’s hand.

The bastard is smiling. Fucking beaming, like he’s found the meaning of life in a pile of sex toys.

It’s barely 9 a.m.

“Good morning, lovie!” Johnny says, pulling you towards him and placing an oddly chaste kiss on your forehead. “We’ve got a long day love. D’you know Si’s birthday is in a week?”

You can’t tear your eyes away from the cornucopia of sex toys, hardly listening to him as he prattles on.

“Bloody unfair he’s got the anniversary and the birthday so close, means I hafta get the man all sorts of gifts in just a month.” He glances down at you and shoots you a wink, twirling the tail in his hand likes it’s a fidget toy. “Some of them are for both of us, though, so I can’t complain too much, aye bonnie?”

You don’t answer, but he plows foreword anyways. “This’ll be the first part of the gift. Gonna let Simon play with you - well, both of us, but I had to buy the new stuff for you.”

You swallow dryly, hand twitching forward as if you’re going to grab one of the toys. “Play?” Is all you can manage to ask.

Johnny hums low in his throat, tucking himself behind you and wrapping both arms around you. He takes your wrists, still holding the toy in his hand, and guides your fingers across the spread in front of you. “Yeah, lass. You like playing with us, huh?”

You shake your head minutely.

“Don’t lie now,” he rumbles, and you remind yourself that he’s just as terrifying as Simon, only in a different way. Somehow you always forget to tread as carefully around Johnny, but the deep growl of his voice reminds you. “You’re soaked when we play, wailing loud enough we had to explain to the landlord what the noise was. You like it plenty.”

You whine a little, flinching backwards into his body at the reminder of your behavior at night. You don’t like it, don’t like thinking about how much you love being between the two of them, how right it feels.

“Now,” Johnny’s voice shifts back into its normal cadence, hands giving you two little taps on the front of your thighs as he steps away. “Si won’t be back until tonight, so the two of us are gonna test these out and have some fun. Excited, lass? I’m thinking we’ll start with this, work on your posture a bit.”

He picks up the fucking hook. You can’t help but lose your shit.

— — — — —

Ghost is in decently high spirits as he finally gets home. His work had been cut short hours early, and he was looking forward to spending a night in with his two precious little pets, curled up together on the couch and maybe even having a home cooked meal. He’d have to see if you could be trusted with a knife, but the idea of watching you and Johnny dance around each other in the kitchen is enough for him even if he doesn’t get to see it realized.

That all goes out the window when he steps into the flat.

He can hear the two of you, Johnny’s voice a little urgent and yours more than a little panicked. Not the most unusual thing, but the absolutely demolished living room is.

He and Johnny hadn’t decorated much - neither of them had an eye for it and once they got you they wanted to let you decorate your new home - but what little they had done is out of place. A picture frame on the floor, dining room chairs feet away from the table and knocked over, a goddamn knife stabbed into a side table next to the slightly askew couch.

And a shit load of sex toys, both on the dining room table and the floor all around it.

It barely takes a heartbeat for Ghost to piece together what’s happened. He sighs wearily, resists the urge to rub at his eyes with his forefinger and thumb so he doesn’t track paint all across the house.

He moves further into their home, heading straight for the bedroom. Sure enough, Johnny’s got you cornered. You’re slid down on the floor, back pushed as far into the wall as you can go and knees tucked up under you.

Johnny’s crouched in front of you, one hand holding both of your wrists securely in front of you and the other holding your ankles together. He’s got scratches down his face and arms, a few that are seeping just a bit of blood, and a nasty bruise forming on one cheek.

He’s also rock hard in his sweatpants.

Both of you snap your eyes to Simon when he steps in the room. Johnny’s expression is pure relief, but yours is a mix of what looks like relief and fear. There’s a little spark in Ghost’s chest at the knowledge that you see him as a helping hand here, even against what’s probably your better judgement.

He tilts his head a bit. “Johnny.” Not a question, but an expectation.

“She freaked out on me, L.t.,” Johnny says - nearly whines - eyes big and pleading.

“Because you-!” You start up, thrashing in Johnny’s grip. “You fucking bastard, I was defending myself!”

“Against me?” Johnny makes a sad noise, one Simon knows is more manipulative than it sounds, leaning in to hover over you even more. “Baby, you know I’d never hurt you. How could you think that, huh?”

“You wanted to stick a fucking hook up my ass!”

That gets a raised eyebrow from Simon. Seems Johnny’s plans for the day were far more exciting than he had let on.

Johnny can’t help but bark out a laugh, which gets a little scream of rage from you and reinvigorates your thrashing. Johnny leans more weight into you, pulling your wrists further out to keep you off balance. It just works you up more, and Ghost can see Johnny’s cock twitch in his pants.

Alright. Time to do damage control.

He steps into the corner with the two of you, lays a heavy hand on Johnny’s nape and squeezes. His boy doesn’t let go immediately, but he does go loose, leaning one shoulder onto a wall and blocking less of your body.

You’re heaving as Simin crouches down, but your eyes are dry. A good sign for the progress you’ve made.

Simon brings his other hand up to grab your chin, pulling it up and forcing eye contact. “Didn’t want to play around with Johnny, love?”

You’re a little scared - always are, when he comes home with the mask and the makeup - but you don’t tear your eyes from his. Your tiny chin quivers in his grip, but you don’t cry. He can’t help but feel a surge of pride for you and your strength

“I didn’t want him fucking with me. I’m allowed to say no,” you hike you chin in the air a little, stiff and all but daring him to disagree.

He doesn’t play into your hands, just hums and strokes both of his thumbs - one over your chin and the other over Johnny’s neck. “You are,” he agrees, fighting down a smirk at the clear shock on your face. “But did you give Johnny a chance?”

“No-“ Johnny pouts, huffing and shifting in place.

“Quiet,” Simon growls, hand squeezing just past comfortable on his neck. “You’re already in trouble for doing all this shit without askin’. Keep pushin’ and you won’t be sleeping in bed tonight.”

That gets a whine, but no more arguing. Good.

You look a little confused when Ghost turns his attention back to you, but he doesn’t bother explaining.

“You are allowed to say no,” he starts again. “But you should give new things a chance. What if you’d liked having,” he can’t resist a smirk, let’s it seep into his tone, “a hook up your ass?”

You flinch back, and Simon bites down a sigh. You’re not in a place for joking yet, apparently.

He stays crouched there for a few minutes, petting both you and Johnny and watching as you both go limp - Johnny quickly, you with a little more work.

“Alright,” he days eventually, standing and tugging the both of you up with him. “Let’s rest for a bit, get the two of you calmed down, and then we’ll talk punishment.”

You and Johnny wear matching pouts, and Simon doesn’t even fight the smile as he tugs all three of you into bed.

#if I ever write a third chapter this is getting edited and stuck in there somehow #sorry for any spelling errors spellcheck was on my ass and kept turning correctly spelled words into completely different words #bo writes #asks and answers #dlmliyh

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cuethediscoandthedrinks · 1 year

Text

trying something a little different! enjoy (˃ᴗ⩹)

avatar reactions - squirting ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ｡⋆

jake ⋆ ﾟ☁︎｡⋆ ﾟ☾ ⋆

• pretty experienced in sex, so the prospect of seeing you in such a state of pleasure wouldn't exactly surprise him; that said, the hot, clear spurts of your sticky essence all over his long blue fingers would illicit an expression of sheer delight for jake

• he'd keen to your writhing form, still bouncing on top of his flexing fingers as they continued to pump deep into your clenching, slicked up pussy--"..goddamn it, sweetheart..aah, ffuck..atta girl, there you go.."

quaritch ⋆ ﾟ☁︎｡⋆ ﾟ☾ ⋆

• he's laying underneath you, tongue fully sheathed in the hot, wet entrance of your cunt; eyes closed, brows scrunched and mouth smirking in lust at the feeling of your soft thighs and gyrating hips on his face; nothing makes this man happier than seeing his pretty girl get what she needs from him

• quaritch had been teasing you for a while now, but had finally relented and graced you with the opportunity to swerve hard onto his open mouth, and although he could sense your enjoyment, he hadn't quite expected the warm gush of your sweet juices. dribbling down your legs, your continued needy humping only further smearing it across quaritch's eager face--through muffled groans and amsued chuckles, he'd let out a "..now that's my girl..gimme all you got darlin', that's it..mmphm"

tonowari ⋆ ﾟ☁︎｡⋆ ﾟ☾ ⋆

• this baby had been 100% oblivious to your oncoming orgasm; so lost in pleasure as his hips bucked up into your throbbing pussy. spooning, he'd only meant to cum swift and quiet before you awoke, but feeling your grinding hips and hearing those soft, sleepy moans made it virtually impossible to not plow hard enough to wake you up

• so here he lay, angled deep enough to reach the sweet spot that made you whine; the slick leaks of precum oozing from his pulsating cock, as tonowari continued chasing his orgasm. but once he heard a whine of especially needy anticipation, and the tell-tale wetness working its way down your thighs and onto his girthy blue length, tonowari could do nothing but bury his face in your dark hair as he released his creamy, warm seed deep into your clenching pussy.

tsu'tey ⋆ ﾟ☁︎｡⋆ ﾟ☾ ⋆

• although mature, tsu'tey was yet to experience all forms of intercourse that the human race had explored; but seeing your quaking hips and higher-pitched moans, he felt the urge to continue grinding his toned thigh in between your spread, writhing legs. he'd been rubbing the rougher skin of his leg against your hot mound as he humped the grass beside your hips; his orgasm was swiftly approaching, but tsu'tey's focus remained fixed on your form: squirming, bucking, whining

• such a sight only made his spear-like cockhead pulse and leak for you. once you began to gyrate up into the firm of his knee, he could tell you were getting close; although he didn't expect the hot streams of your arousal coating the outer flesh of his thigh. your hips continued to grind as his cock released reams of milky white cum into the grass below, all the while taking in the erotic view of you underneath him.

ronal ⋆ ﾟ☁︎｡⋆ ﾟ☾ ⋆

• she'd been doing her best to hold back her breathy moans, likewise using one hand to clamp over your mouth as you rutted your wet openings against each other; one leg on each side, likely grinding hard enough to leave dents in the sand beneath you. in spite of the early morning and noise of the rolling waves on the shore, your groans and whines couldn't be kept quiet enough

• in aims to reiterate the need, ronal jutted extra hard into your pussy, in hopes of breaking you out of your lust-stained haze; all it did was make your back arch further, and juices spurt across both your legs as the increased stimulation rocked your orgasm through you. soon ronal was cumming too, both of you sharing a sticky, arousal-slicked release in the early dawn; she'd made it happen before of course, but never when she was trying to actively quieten you down--"asshk..this mess won't clean itself..come and lick it up for me love.."

neytiri ⋆ ﾟ☁︎｡⋆ ﾟ☾ ⋆

• never one for slow and steady foreplay, neytiri was already knuckle-deep inside your clenching opening; index and ring jostling right up against your sensitive spot, making your hips buck onto her fingers as your hands further gripped the thick tree trunk in front of you. you'd endeavoured to swiftly reach your orgasms before the clan meeting, but what had begun as a quickie had soon become full-blown finger-fucking. she'd already made you cum twice from her tongue, but neytiri wasn't done there

• she'd decided to pummel her long, lithe fingers deep inside you; the squishing and slick only exacerbating the lewd noises from your throbbing pussy. "..let um'ma hear you, sweet one..can feel it..you clench for me..tssshk..release, release.." she'd whisper out, grinning as she felt the gush of your orgasm flow between her fingers, dripping onto the lush forest floor below you.

+reqs open my lovelies :)

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