Batshit Crazy

24, any pronouns, just reposting Fandom stuff, there is 18+ stuff here. ask is always open to talk about blorbs

[coldgardengentlemen]

Main blog for fandom and general posting. Side blog for general horny posting @twisted-dog

Master list:

Jealous!House x Reader

Decoy!House x Reader x House

Decoy!House x House!Reader x House

Robert House x Assistant!Reader

Don't Make Me Call Bobby House x Wife!Reader x Decoy!House

Synth!House x Courier!Reader

Stepdad!Franco Barbi x Stepdaughter!Reader

Stalker!Dex Poindexter x Drunk!Reader

Kidnapper!Dex Poindexter x Fisk!Reader

List of characters I need more x reader smut about:

Robert House (Fallout New Vegas and Fallout Prime) + body double

Zeno Wesker (Resident Evil 9)

Victor Gideon (Resident Evil 9)

Karl Heisenberg (Resident Evil 8)

Victor Zsasz (Gotham TV)

Ignacio Varga (better call saul)

Lalo Salamanca (better call saul)

Tuco Salamanca (better call saul & breaking bad)

Anthony Chigurh (no country for old men)

Timothy Bryce (American psycho)

Trevor Philips (Gta 5)

Simon (TWD)

Rumplestiltskin/ Mr Gold (OUAT)

Franco Barbi (outlast trials)

Captain Boomerang (suicide squad)

Thomas Hewitt (Texas chainsaw)

Helmut Zemo (MCU)

(List is on-going)

[blindshotblue]

a human weapon

[missmanlykink]

[✿] ⁺ MAKE IT BETTER — 𝒞ousin!𝒲ade

𝜗୧ MDNI 18 + / navigation◞ m.list◞ taglist 𝜗୧ / (✦. INBOX OPEN ! ) 𝜗୧ ⁺

content warning ♪ – fauxcest/stepcest or smtg idk yall, allusions to smut (fem!oral specifically), alcohol (beer), mention of toxic parents, you and wade have known eachother for a while ♪ NOT PROOFREAD ♪

word count ♪ – 0.6k

della's note ♪ – got a little inspired by @s4ngel 's stepverse and wrote this in 25 minutes. no i have not finished hart of dixie but u cannot tell me he isnt cousin-coded...

MORE UNDER THE CUT – MINORS DNI </3

Cousin!Wade is your best friend. You've known him for so long, and you think he’s the coolest guy ever. He's a little bit of an asshole, but never to you—he treats you like a princess. He's a bartender, he plays the guitar, and when you're hanging, he lets you do anything you please. His place is like a haven. Whenever you needed a break from your bickering parents, you'd slip out the front door and make your way to the mayor's property, where Wade lived. Wade was always waiting there for you with open arms, a beer, and a kiss on the forehead. But…when you guys get a little too tipsy, you lose all agency. The usual closeness you’re comfortable with feels heated; the loose arm that’s wrapped around your waist makes you feel a little dizzy. You clear your throat and pull yourself out of his arms. Wade would notice, of course. “What’s the matter, kid?” His words are slightly melted together by the beer, just like yours. “Nothin’, Wade. I think I drank a little too much…” It’s the partial truth. The amount of alcohol in your system is an issue, but that’s not why you’re acting the way you are—at least you don’t think so.

Wade would always reply with the same thing: “C’mon then. Let’s get you in bed.” Normally, that’s one of the last things you say to someone before sleep parts the time you spend together awake, but not with you and Wade. You guys were different. He’d drag you into his room, tuck you into his bed, and lie beside you. You’re always facing each other. The rough pads of his fingertips drag down your cheeks slowly while a drunken smile bends on his lips. “You’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen…” Your heart rate quickens at the sentiment and the warmth between your thighs grows. Wade sees them squeeze together and gives you an all too familiar look. “Want me to take care of you? Y’know I always know how to,” he’d whisper, dragging his hand down from your cheek to your arm and across your thigh.

“Y-you don’t have to. I’m alright,” you reply, throat clenching harshly as you look into his eyes. “Now, you know better than to lie to me. I know you better than anyone else.” He begins, sliding his thick fingers between your legs, parting them with one hand. There’s no resistance from you; you know how this always ends. “…just let me help you, sweetheart.” You give in like you always do, nodding gently at his advances. He calls you a smart girl, his voice dropping to that low tone you love, before pressing a soft kiss to your lips. It’s no secret that what you’re doing is bad—you’re not stupid. You know that if this were to get out, the people of Bluebell would burn you two at the stake. Yet, you push that thought to the side and focus on the pleasure that somehow makes it worth it.

Wade kisses down your body, leaving prickly goosebumps under each inch of your skin his lips touch. Once he’s between your thighs, a deep sigh comes from his lungs, like he’s been waiting for it all along. Pulling apart your legs is a treat for him, all of it is. The way your brows draw together, how your pretty little fingers twitch by your sides, the softness of your skin. The skirt of your dress gives him easy access to relieve your tension. A chuckle leaves his lips when he gets a look at the mess seeping through your floral panties. “Jesus Christ…Is this my fault, angel? Did I get you like this?” he asks, words taut with mock sympathy. You hum out a shaky, “Mhm,” in response. You gasp when his lips meet the wet patch, putting your arousal on display. “S’okay. I’ll make it all better like I always do.”

[strangelure]

so um, virgin!dex who moans in sync and just as loud as you when he's using his fingers inside you for the first time, trembling because he can't even believe he gets to touch you like this, eyes zeroed in on your face as it turns in almost horrified awe at his dexterity (🤭) like. literally. once his digits are moving in and out your hips instinctively buck up at their relentless precision, you make a startled and heated "oh god?- baby!" and dex responds in turn with an equally wrecked "f-fuck!", that fact that you're moaning at his touch overwhelms him too much, he's gasping into your mouth and echoing every obscene sound he rips out of you, the cacophony of it all is probably enough for the neighbors to complain about too

[storm-of-feathers]

a severe thunderstorm warning that doesnt follow through is worse than orgasm denial

[joe-spookyy]

how it feels to watch hickey get Punished as a Boy

[mawofthemagnetar]

The problem with being low support needs is that people mentally autocorrect that to “no support needs” and then proceed to give you absolutely nothing and then get surprised when you implode after six months.

[xoxotropical]

[lazer-exe]

I'm gonna say it, I do think that even the laziest person imaginable should have a roof over their head, food in their stomach, and access to healthcare

[sesterion]

Escape plans comic. Part 1/?

[coldgardengentlemen]

UGH! I NEED MORE MATTFOGGY X READER! BEING TOO SCAR3D TO CONFRONT THEIR FEELINGS FOR EACHOTHER SO THEY PUT ME IN THE MIDDLE! MATT GIVING HIMSELF THE GOOD OL CATHOLIC GUILT FOR LIKING BOTH HIS FRIENDS! HIS GREED KNOW NO BOUNDS!

[bodeckerhedron]

WILSON BETHEL as BENJAMIN 'DEX' POINDEXTER

➤• DAREDEVIL: BORN AGAIN (2025)

[castielscaplan]

That's Mine

Summary: Foggy sees someone flirting with you in a bar. He intervenes and some truths get revealed. [wc 824] [ao3]

Warnings: FWBs, flirting, confessions, friends to lovers.

Request: @sideblogmeanz I saw your taking request for Foggy! If so can you write something about reader and foggy being in a situationship type thing but he gets jealous when someone flirts with reader

Foggy Nelson was very good at three things:

talking his way out of trouble

talking his way into trouble

pretending he wasn’t emotionally involved in either

So when you two ended up in whatever this was—late-night dinners that turned into staying over, inside jokes that got a little too soft around the edges, hands that lingered a second too long before remembering to let go—he was very committed to calling it “nothing serious.”

Which was adorable. In a deeply incorrect way. It happens at Josie’s. Of course it does. Josie’s Bar always feels like it’s one spilled drink away from becoming a legal problem Foggy has to solve out of principle.

You’re at the counter, laughing at something Matt said, when the guy next to you leans in. Too close. Too confident.

“Didn’t know they served anything that pretty in here,” he says, like he’s invented charm.

You blink at him. Polite. Mildly unimpressed. “Pretty sure they mostly serve beer and disappointment,” you reply.

Matt snorts into his drink. Foggy, a few seats down, goes very still. At first, he tells himself he doesn’t care. He’s mid-conversation with Karen. He’s got a case on Monday. He’s definitely not watching the way this random guy is suddenly very invested in your personal space.

He is absolutely not watching your smile. He is definitely not tracking how close the guy is leaning in. He is also not clenching his jaw so hard it should be illegal.

“Foggy?” Karen says.

“Yeah,” he answers automatically.

“You’re not listening.”

“I am.”

“You’re staring.”

“I’m observing.”

Karen follows his gaze. “Oh,” she says slowly. “That’s not observing. That’s jealousy.”

“I am not jealous.” Across the bar, the guy laughs at something you said. Foggy’s grip tightens on his glass. “…I’m just… irritated,” he corrects.

“Uh-huh.”

The guy finally reaches out—light touch, your arm, too casual to be accidental, too confident to be anything else. Foggy stands up so fast his stool scrapes the floor. He doesn’t even realize he’s moving at first. Just suddenly there, behind you, sliding into your space like he’s been there the whole time. “Hey,” he says brightly. Too bright. That lawyer voice that means someone is about to lose a case or a limb.

The guy turns.

Foggy smiles. It is not a friendly smile. “Sorry,” Foggy continues, “didn’t realize we were doing the whole ‘talking at my almost-girlfriend like she’s not a person’ thing tonight.”

Silence. Even Matt looks mildly impressed.

You blink. “…your what?”

Foggy doesn’t look at you. Coward. “I said,” he repeats, still smiling at the guy, “didn’t realize we were doing that.”

The guy raises his hands. “Hey man, I was just talking—”

“Yeah,” Foggy cuts in, “I’ve got a PhD in ‘just talking.’ That wasn’t it.”

There’s a beat. The guy clearly re-evaluates his life choices. Then he backs off. Quickly. Very wisely.

When he’s gone, Foggy exhales like he’s just won a war he didn’t admit he signed up for. Then he finally turns to you. And immediately regrets it. Because now you’re looking at him like that. Like you saw everything. Like you’re enjoying it.

“What?” he says, defensive already.

You tilt your head. “Almost-girlfriend?”

Foggy opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again. “…I was in the zone,” he says weakly.

“The zone?”

“The legal zone.”

“You were at a bar.”

“Emotionally legal zone.”

Matt coughs into his drink again, suspiciously amused.

You step closer. Just enough that Foggy has to stop pretending he’s not aware of you. “You got jealous,” you say.

“I did not.”

“You absolutely did.”

“I was protecting—”

“Me?”

“…the situation.”

“The situation being you liking me?” Foggy freezes. That was not the answer he was prepared for. A long pause. Then he runs a hand down his face.

“Okay,” he mutters. “Maybe a little.”

Your expression softens slightly. “A little?”

Foggy sighs. “…a lot.”

That honesty sits between you both for a second. Less awkward now. More real. Foggy glances away, scratching the back of his neck. “I don’t like people touching what’s—” he stops himself. Clears his throat. “What’s… important to me.”

You raise a brow. “Important to you?”

He looks at you again. This time he doesn’t dodge it. “…yeah,” he says quietly. “You.”

For a second, everything else fades out. Josie’s noise. The bar. Matt pretending not to listen very aggressively. Just him. Just that look.

You bump his shoulder lightly. “Good,” you say.

Foggy blinks. “Good?”

“Yeah,” you shrug. “Because I don’t like them touching what’s mine either.”

That does it. That breaks him a little. In a good way. 

Foggy lets out a laugh—soft, disbelieving, a little breathless. “Yeah,” he says, shaking his head. “We are so screwed.”

You grin. “Probably.”

A beat. 

Then he nudges you back gently. “…you still calling it a situationship?”

You hum thoughtfully. “Depends.”

“On what?”

“How jealous you get next time.”

Foggy groans. But he’s smiling.



[larosebisou]

"Hot summer nights, mid-July

When you and I were forever wild"

[coldgardengentlemen]

dude you should do more vanessa x heather x reader fauxcest! last time was so hot.

i have no ideas to prompt beyond that sorry lol.

Anon you caught me at the right time (wanting older women to be mean to me)

Also, since it wasn't a specific prompt, I'm just gonna throw everything at the wall

Stepmom vanessa and fisk!reader being sent to therapy together so they can get closer, and closer they do get thanks to Dr Glenn's more unorthodox forms of therapy. I'm thinking stuff like hypnosis, clicker training, etc. Therapy basically turns into obedience training for stepdaughter reader.

Psudo daughter!reader getting jealous of how close vanessa is getting with Heather and feeling left out and acting out, probably being rude to Heather. And vanessa promptly inviting Heather to participate in your punishment for acting so rudely to her friend. Being forced to watch, tied up as they makeout and pleasure eachother. "Maybe if you were a good girl you could have joined us"

Reader who likes to help put at the mayor's office developing a crush on Heather and always volunteering to help her with whatever. Heather catching on and slowly pushing the boundaries, a hand on the waist, brushing the hair out of your face, giving you instructions in a fairly dominant voice, "good girl" whenever you do a good job. Vanessa also catching on and testing it by having Heather sit next to buck and then watching you pout all night and act distant. Vanessa then telling Heather and them both confronting you late one night at the office.

That's all I can think of for now, but thank you for the ask! Feel free to send me in more ideas and thoughts.

[scarlet48]

[aquaticmercy]

what would freak4freak reader do if Dex threatened to lock her up in a basement?

Dex Thinks He Can Lock You Up In His Basement “For Your Own Good.” He Didn’t Expect This.

WC 1.4k

TW freak4freak, established relationship, switch!dex, mentions of violence, confinement, restraint and gagging, humiliation and degradation kink, free use arrangement, and explicit sexual content. Fem! Reader. Reference pic at the end of the post!

Task force agents almost killed you, so Dex killed them all.

It was simple math, really. 

You had gone out looking for trouble, because apparently you adored him for killing task force so much that you had decided to try killing them yourself just to feel closer to him. Dex found you standing in the middle of the aforementioned trouble, killed everyone that you hadn’t already, and cupped your face.

He checked your pulse with two fingers, ran his fingers and eyes over you to make sure you weren’t hurt. 

“They almost killed you,” he said.

You smiled a little. “I’m fine, baby.”

“They almost killed you,” he repeated.

“Dex—”

“They almost killed you.”

And then he bent down a little, shoved his shoulder into your stomach, and hauled you up over him like you weighed nothing. His arm was locked over the backs of your thighs, the other braced against your hips, as if you were gonna wander into gunfire if he put you down for even a second. You kicked once, more out of principle than hope, and Dex only tightened his grip.

By the time you got home, he went straight for the fucking basement.

“Dex.”

He only huffed.

“Dex, put me down.”

His hand flexed against your thigh. “Pretty girl,” he murmured, voice feverish, like he was talking to himself more than you. “Can’t stay out of trouble for five minutes, can you?”

Your stomach dropped.

“I’m gonna keep you down here for a little while, okay?” he said, already reaching for the door. “Just while I clean up the mess. Then I’ll come back and make it nice. You’ll be safe.”

You went cold.

“Benjamin,”

He paused, because you using that name meant you were pissed pissed. 

Then the lock clicked under his hand. He had made this safe room for you, when you were manic and erratic and borderline uncontrollable. It worked, but you hated it, even if it did save your life more times than once. 

After all, free use was one thing. You had both agreed to that. Dex could have your body whenever he wanted, and you could have his, but your freedom was still yours, right?

“It’s for your own good,” he said.

Poor, stupid Dex.

He really should have remembered who he was in love with.

When he reached the bottom step and shifted his weight to unlock the inner door, you grabbed the heavy flashlight from the shelf beside you and swung it as hard as you could into the back of his head. Not enough to kill him, of course! You loved him. Just enough to knock him out. 

When he woke up, he was upside down.

His ankles were tied to the ceiling, body tied to the support beam in the center of the basement. His shirt was halfway dragged open by gravity, blood still smeared over his skin, rope shoved between his teeth like a gag and tied tight enough to keep all his bad ideas trapped behind it.

You knelt beside him, a pretty skirt pooled around your thighs.

Dex stared at you, testing the ropes.

His eyes were wild.

He was scared, and not of the ropes. Dex could chew through pain and spit out the bones. No, he was scared because you had that sad look on your face. Apparently, he had fucked up badly enough that you had stopped fighting and started doing whatever the hell this was.

“You hurt my feelings,” you said.

The sound he made around the gag was wet and pathetic. Spit had already slicked the rope, leaking from the corner of his mouth, sliding wrong over his cheek because he was hanging upside down. He tried to say your name. You could hear it outline of the noise: Sorry. Baby. Please. 

All those half-hearted apologies were useless behind the rope.

“I gotta punish you for wanting to lock me up in the basement again.” You frowned, reaching past his face and tapped the metal column he was tied to once to taunt him.

Dex swallowed around the gag, eyes locked on yours, then flexed his bound fingers.

Then, you looked up from where you were kneeling.

You could see that he was very clearly hard.

Of course he was fucking horrified and guilty and scared half to death, and still hard enough to strain obscenely against his pants. His length was trapped thick under the fabric, too obvious to ignore, the head pressing a dark wet spot where he had already started leaking.

You laughed under your breath. “Oh, Dex.”

His eyes squeezed shut.

You reached your hand up while still kneeling, sliding your palm over him anyway.

Dex groaned through the gag.

His hips jerked, hungry and humiliating. The ropes held him in place, but not enough to hide what he wanted. 

Your hand rubbed higher over the shape through his trousers, palm dragging up until you felt him throb under the cloth. He made a strangled sound as drool gathered at his lip and dripped onto the concrete.

Messy, just as you liked him.

Dex was always so clean, so fucking orderly. Seeing him fall apart just tickles that sweet spot in your brain. 

You shifted a bit, and your skirt swayed.

Dex looked straight up from  under the hem, and he went so still it was almost funny.

The angle was filthy. His face was right there, upside down beside your thighs, and he could see exactly what you had been pretending he couldn’t: your panties were soaked clinging wet to you because apparently nearly dying, getting carried like a hostage, knocking out your boyfriend, tying him up, and scolding him over his hard on turned you on. 

“Fucking perv,” you breathed.

His length jumped under your palm as you widened your knees a little enough to be cruel.

Dex made a sound so needy it should have embarrassed him. Instead, he looked up your skirt with his mouth forced open around the rope, spit on his forehead, eyes lustful and glassy, twitching in your hand like the sight itself was going to finish him by itself.

You squeezed him through the fabric, and he arched as much as the ropes allowed, hips trying to fuck up into your fist through his pants. You finally stood up and leaned closer, your mouth hovering over the strain. 

You kissed his clothed bulge, and he had a better view up your skirt now.

A gutted groan tore through the gag as your lips pressed a flutter of kisses over the wet spot at the head. Your palm held his thighs while your mouth dragged over the length, kissing little pecks here and there. He shivered. Big bad Dex, hanging upside down in his own basement, gagged and drooling while you made out with his arousal through his pants.

Your lips pressed harder over the head of him, and his hips kicked uselessly into your mouth. His eyes were glued under your skirt, like being denied made him fixate harder on the wet little mess between your legs.

You pulled back with a slick sound.

Dex whined.

“You don’t get to feel any more than that,” you said, sweet as rot. “You tried to lock me up.”

His eyes went devastated, but he twitched anyway. “Yeah,” you murmured, rubbing him again. “I know, baby. It’s awful when someone else decides what you’re allowed to have, isn’t it?”

His eyes darkened as fear sank deeper. Shame, too, perhaps, because he finally realised he had hurt you and would have gutted himself open if you asked sweetly enough.

You kissed him through his trousers again, because you weren’t merciful. You had never promised to be.

This time it was filthier. Your tongue dragged up the hard line of him while your fingers pressed into his hip, holding him still as you left a trail of damp in your wake. You mouthed at the clothed head, until his thighs strained against the ropes, until every breath came out muffled, until he looked split between begging and apologising and coming in his pants like a fucking loser.

Then you stopped.

Dex jerked forward, chasing your mouth.

The ropes didn't allow for much movement. 

You laughed softly. “There. Lesson one.”

You stood over him, smoothing your skirt down.

His eyes were still glued down there, shameless.

You bent down and kissed his forehead, then the scar on his cheek.

“I’ll untie you later,” you whispered, sickening and loving all the same. “After you’ve learned not to lock me in the fucking basement.”

Dex made a broken sound.

You kissed the corner of his gagged mouth, tasting spit and rope, before you turned toward the stairs.

Behind you, Dex was silent, and not because he had learned his lesson.

Because the creep you called your boyfriend was still too busy watching the slick gathering under your skirt every step of the way.

—

Note: phew, this was done in under 30 minutes and I just needed to get it outta my system 🫠🫠🫠inspired by this Batman #147 variant cover by Jorge Jimenez! (Not saying reader is Punchline and Dex is Joker, this is just a pose reference for the story!)