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allmyn1ghts · 2 days ago

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⸻ ꜱ ᴘ ɪ ᴅ ᴇ ʀ ɢ ɪ ʀ ʟ ⸻

Pairing: Yandere Batfam x Fem Reader

Headcanon: How is your relationship with batfam in general?

Notes: Reader is a pervert. Reader have the same abilities as spiderman. Again another silly fic that should not be taken seriously. English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

At 22, you were a far cry from the scrappy little thief Bruce and Dick had caught all those years ago. Sure, you were still crass, still brutally honest, and still had a penchant for letting your intrusive thoughts win, but now? Now you were hot.

Like, objectively hot. Your tight black spider suit left very little to the imagination, clinging to every curve and muscle as you swung through the city. And you loved every second of it. The attention? Oh, the attention was your lifeblood. You basked in it like a lizard in the sun.

Dick was still wearing those tight pants, wasn’t he? You couldn’t help but stare. I mean, seriously, the guy had a killer ass. You were supposed to be on a mission, but all you could think about was how the suit hugged his figure in ways that made you forget everything except your growing thoughts. You even compared your ass to his when he wasn’t looking—just to make sure you were still in the running for the Best Butt in Gotham.

“Hey, Grayson,” you called out, voice dripping with amusement. He turned his head slightly, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah?”

“Nice ass.” You grinned, winking.

He blinked. “What?” He stopped walking and spun around, completely thrown off by your bluntness.

“Oh, nothing, just admiring the view,” you shrugged, taking a step forward and pretending to actually pay attention to the mission. His cheeks turned red, but you didn’t care. You were busy eyeing his backside like it was a prize you were about to claim.

You convinced Dick to teach you yoga, but it wasn’t for flexibility—it was so you could watch him stretch.

“Wow, Dick,” you said, laying on the mat and pretending to follow his moves. “You’re really�� bendy.”

He flushed. “It’s not like that!”

“Sure it’s not,” you teased, snapping a quick photo of him in a compromising pose. “This one’s going on the Batfam group chat.”

“Y/N, don’t you dare!”

You were bleeding out. Your side was burning, your vision blurry, and yet you were having the time of your life. Why? Because Jason Todd—walking sex god and part-time vigilante—was carrying you in his arms like you were a damsel in distress.

“Don’t worry,” Jason said, sprinting through an alley as explosions sounded in the distance. “I’ve got you. You’re gonna be fine.”

You stared up at him, dazed but grinning. “You’re so pretty.”

“Y/N, stay awake,” Jason barked.

“I’m awake my angel,” you slurred. Your eyes drifted downward to his broad chest, the tight shirt doing little to hide the muscle underneath. You reached out, resting a hand on his pec. “You got...man boobs.”

Jason groaned. “You're hallucinating, stay awake please.”

“They’re perfect,” you whispered, leaning closer. And then—because you were you—you bit him.

Jason skidded to a stop, staring at you in disbelief. “Did you just—”

“I couldn’t help it,” you said, grinning despite the blood trickling down your chin. “They’re so biteable.”

You discovered Jason was ticklish purely by accident, and you never let him live it down. Anytime he annoyed you, you’d jab him in the ribs or poke his sides until he squirmed.

“Stop it, Y/N!” he growled, swatting at your hands.

“You wish,” you said, chasing him around the room.

The rest of the Batfam watched in stunned silence as Jason “Red Hood” Todd ran from you like a child.

You declared the Batcave chair yours one day and refused to let anyone else sit in it.

“It’s my throne,” you said, lounging dramatically as the others stood around, glaring.

“Get up,” Jason said, crossing his arms.

“Make me,” you replied, sticking your tongue out.

He grabbed you, but instead of throwing you out, you ended up on his lap, smirking. “Guess this works too.”

Anytime you were in the middle of a Dick and Jason argument, you somehow always ended up physically between them. And, oh, you weren’t complaining.

“Move, Dickhead,” Jason growled, pushing into your right shoulder, his broad chest pressing into the side of your face.

“Not a chance, Hood,” Dick snapped, leaning in on your other side, his own muscular frame trapping you against Jason.

You? You just stood there, smiling like a cat with a bowl of cream. “Ooh, I love this. It’s like being sandwiched between two very attractive brick walls.”

“What?!” they shouted in unison.

Jason shot Dick a death glare. “See what you did? You’re giving her ideas.”

“Me? You’re the one pressing into her like some kind of Neanderthal!”

You just smirked, leaning back into the tension. “Don’t mind me, boys. Please, continue. This is very entertaining.”

Dick was your favorite pillow, and you made sure he knew it. Anytime you were hanging out in the Batcave, you’d just casually rest your head on his shoulder or lean against his chest.

“Comfortable?” he asked, chuckling softly.

“Very,” you replied, closing your eyes.

He smiled, wrapping an arm around you. “Good.”

You peeked up at him, grinning. “You know, you make a great pillow. Very firm, but also soft in the right places.”

Dick laughed, shaking his head. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Thanks,” you said, smirking.

Dick’s ass was basically your personal stress ball at this point. It didn’t matter if you were on a mission, in the Batcave, or just walking through Gotham—if the opportunity presented itself, you’d take it.

SMACK!

“Jesus, Y/N!” Dick would jump, spinning around, his cheeks flushed.

“What?” you’d say innocently, shrugging. “It’s just so perfect. You work hard for that, right? I’m just appreciating the effort.”

He’d sigh, rubbing his neck, but you knew he secretly loved it.

Jason’s chest was another favorite of yours, especially when he was shirtless (which, let’s face it, happened a lot). You’d walk up to him, your fingers twitching, and—pinch!

“Damn it, Y/N!” Jason would glare at you, rubbing the spot where you’d gotten him. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” you’d say with a cheeky grin. “Just checking if these are real.”

He’d groan, shaking his head, but you’d catch the tiny smirk he tried to hide.

You loved teasing, and nothing was off-limits. During a mission, your suit "mysteriously" ripped—right in front of Jason and Dick.

“Oh no,” you said innocently, looking over your shoulder at the tear just below your back. “Guess I’ll have to fix this later.”

Jason’s jaw tightened. “Y/N, stop.”

Dick looked away, flustered. “Maybe cover it up or something?”

“Why? You guys can’t handle a little skin?” You smirked, adjusting your suit to make it worse.

Jason grumbled, “I’m about to shoot that suit off you if you don’t stop playing.”

You had zero shame. Once, during a stakeout with Dick, you leaned over and kissed him right in the middle of his report to Bruce.

“Nightwing, report—” Bruce’s voice came over the comms, but you cut Dick off with your lips, pulling him into a deep kiss.

“Y/N!” he protested, his face red as he tried to pull away. “Bruce can hear us!”

“So?” you replied, shrugging as you went in for another kiss.

The first time you met Superman, you were not prepared.

“Y/N, this is Clark Kent,” Bruce said, his tone clipped as ever. “He’s Superman.”

You blinked up at the man of steel, all 6’4” of farm-boy perfection, and immediately zeroed in on one thing: the bulge.

You weren’t subtle about it either. Your eyes widened slightly as you stared, your head tilting to the side like you were trying to calculate something.

Clark, oblivious, smiled warmly. “It’s nice to meet you. Bruce has told me a lot about you.”

“Uh-huh,” you muttered, still staring. “Damn, you’re packing. Your wife must be so lucky.”

The room went silent. Bruce closed his eyes, looking like he was about to have an aneurysm. Clark cleared his throat, cheeks turning bright red.

“What—what does that mean?” Superman asked, clearly flustered.

“Oh, nothing,” you said, shrugging. “Just making an observation. By the way, you ever need help with Lois, let me know. I’m excellent at teamwork.”

Bruce groaned audibly in the background.

“Anyway,” he stammered, shifting awkwardly, “I, uh, wanted to talk to you about Damian and Jon.”

You didn’t hear a word he said.

Poor Tim. Sweet, awkward Tim. He didn’t deserve you, and yet you tormented him at every opportunity.

You were taller than him, which you used to your advantage constantly. One day, after a successful mission, you wrapped your arms around him from behind, pulling him into a tight hug. Your boobs pressed against the back of his head, and you could feel him stiffen like a deer caught in headlights.

“Good boy,”

“Y/N,” he croaked, his voice an octave higher than usual.

“Hmm?”

“Let go.”

“But you’re so cute when you’re flustered.”

“LET GO!”

Tim was your little puppy, and you made sure he knew it. Anytime he looked stressed (which was, like, always), you’d grab him by the shoulders and pull him down onto your lap.

“Shhh,” you’d coo, stroking his hair while he sat there stiff as a board. “You’re working too hard, Timmy. Just relax.”

He’d blush furiously, stammering out a protest, but you’d silence him with a kiss to his forehead.

“Good boy,” you’d whisper, your voice soft but teasing. “You’re doing great.”

Poor Tim would be a mess, his face redder than Jason’s helmet, but you didn’t care. It was adorable.

Jason walked in once and nearly gagged. “This is the most disturbing thing I’ve ever seen.”

When you first met Damian, you were charmed. Not by his skill, or his intellect, or his reputation as the Demon’s Son. No, you were charmed because he looked like an angry little bird.

He’d just finished beating the crap out of Tim in the training room when you walked in.

“Who is this?” Damian demanded, glaring at you.

You clasped your hands together, grinning. “Aww, you’re so cute!”

Damian bristled. “I am not cute! I am an assassin!”

You squealed, bouncing on your heels. “Look at him! He’s like a tiny murder pigeon!”

Tim, still lying on the mat, muttered, “Please kill me.”

“So adorable,” you said, holding your hands together in a “squee” motion, jumping up and down like a fangirl. “I didn’t know you were so mad! Look at you, little angry pookie!”

Damian, of course, was not impressed. “Shut up, woman.”

But you? You couldn’t stop giggling. “You’re, like, a pocket-sized villain. So cute.”

Since then, you’d taken to treating Damian like a literal baby. You’d sit him on your lap, spoon-feed him during meals, and ruffle his hair at every opportunity.

Damian was your baby, no matter how much he tried to argue otherwise. You gave him the most attention—whether it was ruffling his hair, pinching his cheeks, or straight-up kissing him on the forehead during missions.

“Y/N, cease this nonsense!” he’d shout, trying to push you away.

“Aw, but you’re so cute,” you’d tease, holding his face in your hands.

Damian would glare, but the faint pink on his cheeks betrayed him. You knew he secretly loved it, especially when you called him your “adorable angry bird.”

Jon Kent adored you. But when he let it slip in front of Damian?

“Y/N is… well, she’s amazing,” Jon had said shyly, scratching the back of his neck.

Damian froze, his eyes narrowing. “What did you just say?”

“Uh, nothing!” Jon backpedaled, but Damian was already chasing him across the Batcave, sword in hand.

“YOU THINK YOU HAVE A CHANCE?!” Damian yelled as Jon flew for his life.

Bruce wasn’t immune to your antics either. You’d long since dropped the “old man” or “Bruce” in favor of something much more fun: “Daddy.”

“Good work tonight, Y/N,” Bruce said one evening, his tone professional.

You leaned against the Batcomputer, smirking. “Thanks, Daddy.”

Bruce froze, his eye twitching slightly.

“Stop calling me that.”

“Why? You always been my suger daddy, it's only make sense if I call you daddy.”

He walked away without another word.

You made it your life mission to annoy Bruce whenever possible. During one of his infamous brooding sessions in the Batcave, you casually walked up to him, poked his nose, and said, “Boop.”

He froze, slowly turning to glare at you. “Don’t.”

“Boop,” you repeated, doing it again.

Dick and Tim were in hysterics in the background, and Jason muttered, “She’s got a death wish.”

Bruce, exhausted, pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why am I not surprised?”

It started as a joke. You stole one of Bruce’s button-up shirts and wore it around the Manor. Now it was a regular occurrence, much to Bruce’s annoyance.

“That’s mine,” he’d say.

“Yup, and it’s comfy,” you’d reply, lounging on the couch.

Once, during a mission debrief, you leaned on the table and purred, “What’s the plan, Daddy?”

Jason choked on his drink, Dick coughed awkwardly, and Tim turned bright red.

Bruce didn’t even look up. “I will ground you.”

“Kinky,” you replied with a grin.

You had a thing for flirting with dangerous villains, and the Batfam hated it.

“I could totally take Deathstroke,” you said once after a fight.

“He tried to kill you!” Jason snapped.

“Yeah, but did you see the way he looked at me? Sparks, I tell you. Also who said I was talking about fighting?”

“She’s insane,” Damian muttered, but you just shrugged.

During a fight with the Joker, you’d stopped mid-battle to tilt your head and give him an appraising look.

“Y’know,” you said, webbing one of his henchmen to the wall. “You’d be kinda hot if you didn’t look like a corpse. Ever thought about skincare?”

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” Dick had yelled, dodging a swing from Harley Quinn.

“SHUT UP!” you shot back. “I CAN FIX HIM!”

Despite all the chaos and teasing, there’s a hidden, vulnerable side to you that craves attention—not just the kind that’s lustful, but the caring kind.

After a long night of missions, you’ll often crash in the Batcave. The family can be in the middle of an intense discussion or debriefing, but you’ll barge in, throw yourself onto Tim, and use his lap as a pillow.

Jason will grumble and say something about you “acting like a child,” but then you'll casually climb onto his back, burrowing your face into his shoulder as you cling to him.

Of course, Bruce just looks away like he’s done with all of you, but deep down, he knows that if he even tried to stop it, the whole family would turn on him. You're the glue holding them all together.

Main Headcanon

@ʀᴏᴛᴛᴇɴꜰʏʀᴇ 2024. ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴏʀ ᴜꜱᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡᴇʙꜱɪᴛᴇꜱ.

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allmyn1ghts · 3 days ago

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- 5k sim dump -

heyyyyyyyyyy! THANK YOU for 5k followers on instagram! to celebrate i'm bringing you a sim dump! thank you everyone for all your support and love! <3 love you guys!!

- if you want to check out my instagram you can do that here

- if you wanna check out my youtube channel, you can find it here

Anywayyy, you can find these sims HERE

- sims in left to right order -

Vanessa Houston / Lorena Choate

Naomi Norris / Bianca Alston

- they have their everyday outfits done.

- all i ask is that you don’t reupload and claim as your own! okay? ty <3

- i don’t own any of this custom content and i wanna thank all the cc creators for making these amazing pieces!

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allmyn1ghts · 6 days ago

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UNDER YOUR SPELL.

18+, mdni.

warnings: angst, smut, fingering, unprotected piv, fem!reader.

word count: 3,152

it was constantly back and forth between you and sam. he loved you, but that love had gone unrequited for months. time and time again, he was there to pick up the pieces of broken messes you made, lifting you up whenever you felt like you were drowning. that love and affection he felt slowly morphed into frustration and anger, but not hate, he could never hate you. no matter how often you bruised him.

he was there to save you, but what were to happen if he was drowning too? you were both in the same wreckage—getting dragged under by burdens of the world. it wasn't a secret he was struggling, fighting an internal battle. hunting was his life, but it tore him apart. you tore him apart, and he was convinced you knew it. there was no way you'd gone so long and hadn't picked up on his pining. he didn't even bother trying to hide it anymore.

during a particularly dangerous mission, you nearly got yourself killed. in those brief moments of panic, sam nearly lost himself. he jumped in without a second thought, willing to lay his life down for you. it was absolutely fucking stupid, he knew that, and on the ride back to the motel dean had certainly both of you an earful. now, once again, sam was left to pick up the pieces.

he was frustrated, yes, but not at you. at the whole goddamn world. with a clenched jaw, he turned on the sink to wash his hands as you sat on the closed lid of the toilet. he exhaled sharply through flared nostrils, shaking his head as he refused to even look at you.

“i can't keep doing this,” sam admitted, lips and tongue forming words involuntarily. his voice was strained and it took every ounce of his will to keep himself in check. the truth spilled nonetheless. “i love you, you know that.”

“i know.” you said softly, in contrast to his strained voice as you got up from the closed toilet lid and stepped over to stand next to him. as you looked at sam's face in the mirror, you could see his hands coating the water red in your peripheral as he washed his bloodied hands.

though sam was upset, he was still unable to fully ignore your presence so close to him. once the water from the sink ran clean, and his hands were free from blood, he shut off the the faucet with a huff. “you don't even care,” he said, voice hoarse with unbridled emotion. he gripped the edge of the bathroom counter, knuckles whitening as he hunched forward. his shoulders were up, tensed with emotion.

“sam—i care. i care so much.” you said, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. “don't say that. ever. c’mon—i’m sorry. okay? i knew it was dangerous, and i still went and did it. i’m sorry.” you added, your voice still gentle and tender compared to his.

that voice.. that tone. sam fell weak to it, especially now. he hated it, hated how much he was affected by you. it should’ve been easy to ignore you.

sam exhaled slowly, trying to calm himself as he turned to look at you. his eyes flicked from your hand, to your face, then to the, now cleaned, wounds and bruises on your arms. “you’re sorry?” he repeated, an almost bitter scoff escaping his lips. “you’re always sorry, but you keep putting yourself in danger, anyway. so really, how sorry are you?”

you had never seen sam so—angry. not towards you, at least.

“sam—i really am sorry. please—i won't do it again. ever, i swear. please. i just—don't know what else to say—i don't even know what else you want me to say.” you said, not even knowing what you were pleading for.

for him to not get upset? probably. you always knew when he was upset, it was obvious. but pleading wouldn't probably get you anywhere because right now, he wasn't even trying to hide his frustration.

but sam didn't want an apology, for what that was worth. he was starting to get sick of the endless apologies, the broken promises. it was getting tiresome, and at this point, he was fed up. “you know what i want,” sam spoke through gritted teeth, “you know what i've wanted for a long time.” his words came out harsher than he meant them to, but he hardly cared to filter them at all in this moment.

“sam. you know i don't get—attached. what if i actually-.. what if i actually did die one day? or– or have to leave? it just causes pain. for both you and me. and i couldn't do that to you.” you said, sliding your hand to sam’s upper back, gently caressing him there.

he clenched his jaw hard at your words, struggling to stay even slightly composed right now.

“damn it, don’t give me that bullshit,” he let out a humorless laugh. “you're scared. you’ve had bad experiences, okay—i get it. but you can’t keep using that as an excuse.” he turned to face you fully, shaking his head as he gripped your shoulders and held you in place. sam’s eyes darkened, emotions getting the better of him. “i’m not some random guy. we’ve been through everything together.”

“i know—i know, sam. but it's not bullshit, though. what if something were to actually happen to me? something permanent. i just don't want to hurt you.” you said, your hand falling to your side.

sam had always spoken to you with such kindness, so to see this side of him, so blinded by rage and hurtful words, it hurt. bad.

but sam, he was only starting to grow more agitated. frustration was getting the better of him, and his voice raised and shook his head hard.

“bullshit,” he nearly yelled, jaw clenching again as his grip on you tightened, “how would you leave more of a dent if we were together, huh? you think it wouldn’t hurt to lose you even now? you drive me insane—you don’t have any idea how long i..” he swallowed hard, biting his tongue to keep from saying anything more, from going too far.

“sam—please..” you said, gently placing her hand on his. “i like you, sam—i don't want to hurt you at all. i’m sorry—i’m really sorry.” you said, feeling your eyes start to water.

but you couldn't cry, he was in pain, and you caused it. you couldn't cry for something you caused, but just—seeing sam so angry and hurt, that stung. bad.

“oh, no,” he growled, “no. you don’t get to cry.” he said, with a sharp edge to his voice. he held you in place with one hand, the other quickly moving to grip your chin between his fingers. he made sure you looked directly at him.

“you don’t get to act like the victim. you are a coward. nothing more. you're too damn scared to care about something more than yourself for once.” he nearly spat the words, leaning down so that his face was close to yours. close enough that you could sense the heat from his skin. for a moment, he simply studied your face, your eyes—before he spoke again.

“just once, show me you care more about me than your goddamn baggage.”

that pissed you off.

“are you joking?” you said, your voice now stern, more firm. “so now i’m selfish.” you said, more of a statement rather than a question.

“you're a sweet guy, sam. but i don't get attached. jesus—we work together for christ's sake. what if something were to happen to either of us?!”

he felt anger—rage even—at your response. sam let out a bitter laugh, keeping you in place as he held your chin tight. “if you’re scared of being in a damn relationship with me because of your baggage, fine, fair enough. but don’t hide it behind the whole working-together thing.” he paused, shaking his head.

“i’ve seen you lose partners,” he said through clenched teeth, “and you were sad, sure, but you moved on. got over it. every. goddamn. time. this is about me.”

“i’m not scared of being in a relationship, i’m scared of the consequences, sam.” you replied.

“what if something were to happen to the either of us? something either permanent or temporary?” you added.

“that isn't a good argument and you know it.” sam kept you in place, keeping his gaze fixated on your face as he spoke more.

“if you’re genuinely worried something going to happen to one of us, why keep on working together? why not just quit? hm?” he asked the question in a mock-innocent tone, already knowing your answer. before you even responded, he let out a scoff.

“coward.”

and that pissed you off even more.

“are you fucking kidding me?!” you snapped. “quit? just quit—are you stupid?! i can't just quit, sam, you and dean know that!” you spat, actually livid.

there was a flicker of something close to shock on his face. He expected your response—practically counted on it—but your outburst still came as a surprise to him, nonetheless.

he was not done with you, though. it didn’t matter that he was the one who started this, it didn’t matter that this wasn’t really about your hunting lifestyle. sam wasn’t going to back down. not until you gave him a damn genuine response that he was satisfied with.

“no, i’m not kidding.” he said simply, still holding you in place.

“you want me to quit? i’ll fucking quit.” you snapped back, pushing you away and walking out the bathroom, slamming it shut.

sam stood frozen for a brief moment after hearing the bathroom door slam. the sound only served to snap him out of the shocked daze he was in. he followed you out of the bathroom, moving fast. once he was in the main part of the hotel room and saw you packing your bags, he couldn’t stop the anger that flared within him. you were already back in the main room of the hotel, you had grabbed her bag and practically threw it onto the bed, and started shoving the hell out of your clothes and necessities in it as well out of pure anger.

“hey—hold on,” he said, grabbing your wrist to make you stop, which resulted in a, “fuck off, sam!” and a shove of his hand from you. but instead of letting go of you, he held your wrist tighter and forced you to look up at him. his eyes flared with anger, anger and disbelief. “you can’t just up and leave,” he grit his teeth, “we haven’t even—i haven’t—”

his mind was running at a mile a minute, trying to find the right words to stop you. he could feel pure panic rising in his chest, fear of you leaving completely taking over any logical thought.

“do you think i like rejecting you? do you actually think i fucking like it?” you snapped, looking back at you again. “i don't. i really don't. so I’m sorry, sam. i’m real fucking sorry.” you added, still pretty pissed.

“no, i don’t think you like it,” he replied, his voice strained. it was hard for him to keep any kind of composure at this point. “but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

sam didn’t let go of your wrist. in fact, he only held on tighter. “maybe,” he began slowly, choosing his next words with careful consideration, “maybe you should prove that you’re sorry. hm?”

“what are you talking about?” you asked, pretty much still blinded by anger.

for what seemed to be the thousandth time, sam gritted his teeth. this time, he used his grip on you to push you against the wall, holding you in place with his body. his voice was low and controlled. “stop playing dumb. you know exactly what i’m talking about.” he said, searching your face.

and so out of blinded rage, you crashed your lips onto yours, your hands going up to grip his jaw.

it took a moment for your sudden act to register in his mind, and even longer for him to fully accept it. he was shocked—not at your actions, but at the fact that you were even giving him this. for the first time, you were doing something more than denying or brushing off emotions. so, not wasting another moment, he immediately returned the kiss. sam pressed himself against you, letting go of your wrist to hold your hips. he nearly melted into your lips.

your mouth fought for dominance as one of your hands went up to tangle in his hair, pulling hard on the strands out of frustration which resulted in a involuntary groan from sam, his grip on your waist tightening. he didn’t know how long he’d been craving this—a taste of what it would be like to have you. he’d been imagining it constantly for what felt like forever. he had no problem in giving in, letting you have control of the kiss. however, his hands began to wander from your hips, grabbing at your thighs to hoist you up without breaking the kiss. it was impossible for him to care about you being so harsh when your legs wrapped around his, bringing your body flush against his.

he had you pinned, your back against the wall, and he did not want to let you go. one of his hands snaked up your back to tangle into your hair, allowing him to deepen the kiss. he couldn’t help but be amused by—and slightly turned on by—this new aggressive side of you. his hands squeezed the soft flesh of your ass, keeping you pressed flush against him. he knew he should probably be more controlling, but he was just as desperate as you. he let you have complete control of the kisses—at least for the moment.

sam began moving, slowly making his way over to the bed. once his legs hit the side of the bed, he quickly turned and sat down, keeping you in his lap. his hands slid over your thighs, slowly moving up to the hem of your shirt. he broke the kiss, only to quickly pull the fabric over your head, letting it fall to the floor. he took a moment to just look at you, taking in every detail. then, his hands smoothed over your skin, caressing every new inch of you that he could touch. he then leaned his head down and planted sloppy kisses along your collarbone and continued to leave marks along your neck and shoulders, his hands moved down to the button and zipper of your jeans. he was getting impatient—needy, so he made quick work of them, pushing them down and off of you. without warning, he flipped you over so that you were lying on your back, body cushioned by the bed. that, in which resulted in a giggle from you.

he took off his own shirt, revealing his toned chest as he threw the fabric carelessly onto the floor. sam went back to kissing sloppily on your neck, slyly unclipping your bra so he could take it off and resume his kisses down to your chest, and eventually take your breast in his mouth. your lips fell open, and your hands went to him, just grabbing wherever you could reach.

he made sure to gently tug on your hardened bud before releasing your breast with a pop, then kissing his way back up to your lips as he fumbled with his jeans, unbuckling and unbuttoning them so that the second they fell to pool around his ankles, he could kick them off.

he would constantly whisper sweet nothings in between kisses, just reminding you how beautiful you are, or how much he's been wanting and waiting for this.

he then gently pulled away from your lips, to hook his fingers underneath your panties and pull then down and off of your pretty legs, and his own boxers weren't on for much longer after that.

he slid a finger in between your slick folds, your wetness coating his fingers, which resulted in a soft whimper from you.

“you're so wet, baby.” he commented, as his middle finger prodded your entrance, and slipped it in.

you gasped, his finger was so cold, but it felt so good when he started curling it inside you, and then slowly started thrusting it in and out of you. he soon after slipped his ring finger in, continuing his curling and thrusting motions.

suddenly, he slipped his fingers out and before you both knew it, he was lining up cock against your entrance, and moving his tip between your folds, coating it in your juices. you bit on your lip and gasped when he finally slid his tip inside your tight hole, your hands coming up to grip his shoulders.

“sh, shh,” sam cooed. “you alright?” in which, you nodded in response.

he didn't say anything in response to that, instead, he slid more of his cock into you, which resulted in a moan from you, and a groan from sam, your walls practically sucking in his length.

“fuck-.. so fuckin’ tight..” sam muttered, already starting to move his hips, your arms snaking around his neck, holding onto him for dear life, his hands were on your hips, gripping hard.

his thrusts only became more and more hard by the minute, each one harsh but deliberate. the sound of your moans and his groan's filled the room, followed by the sound of slapping skin as he repeatedly hit your cervix.

by the time your walls were starting to flutter around his cock, close to your climax, he was already close too, his thrusts still harsh, but becoming sloppy.

“sam–..” you moaned.

“i know, cum for me baby–..” he groaned, biting his lip.

and that was enough for the knot in your stomach to snap, your walls clenched around his length, followed by a loud moan and your hands dug into his skin.

the sight was enough for sam to cum along with you, his hands gripped your hips as his cock sent white ropes into you, coating your clenched walls.

he slowly pulled out, and flopped onto his back, but making sure to pull the messed-up sheets over the both of your naked bodies. and for a moment, nobody said a word. until–of course sam, broke the silence.

“still mad?” he asked, which you quickly interrupted.

“give me a fuckin’ minute.” you panted out, the both of you knowing damn well you needed more than a ‘minute.’

he chuckled in response. “yep got it.”

aaaaa i rlly hope you guys like thiss it took HOURS and it is my first smut post so thats why it's kinda booty lmao kinda rushed at the end

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allmyn1ghts · 7 days ago

Text

MONDAY NIGHT RAW | 12.09.24

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allmyn1ghts · 9 days ago

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The fact you currently write for Dave and tangerine is SENDING me I need Tan sm. Anyway here's some food for thought:

Being in an LDR with Dave. Todd and Marty are convinced he's being catfished until you randomly decided to visit his town for a suprise. And you see him in the booth window of Atomic Comics so you go in. And chaos. :3

yes!!! i love aaron <33 if you have anymore requests for him send my way !!!! <3333 w; none! college!dave & just fluff and todd and marty being silly. this does have she/her uses - my apologies! plus lower case intended!

“and who are you talkin’ to?” todd reaches for dave’s phone but his hands are quicker, quickly pulling away. both todd and marty’s eyebrows lift with a shared glance.

“no one.” dave dismisses, shoving his phone into his pocket before grabbing his pen once again, going back to his assignment that he needed done before comic-con.

“sure seems like no one,” todd scoffs, leaning back and grabbing the foam ball from his nightstand, tossing it into the air, catching it as it falls down.

“oh, wait,” marty snickers. “his girlfriend, right?” todd lets out a loud laugh, tossing the foam ball up in the air again.

“what’s so shocking about me getting someone?”

“because i haven’t found anyone yet,” todd chimes up from the bed. dave rolls his eyes, shaking his head. “you haven’t even told us her name? let me guess - barbara?” dave pinches his brows together and stops his writing.

“or harley? kate?”

“okay, your just naming off batman women,” he tosses his pen down and turns towards todd who has a smug look on his face. he grabs a pen and tosses it at his cheek.

todd lets out a huff when the foam ball drops against his forehead, giving dave a look.

“she’s real.”

“i’ll believe it when i see her.” marty speaks up.

“leave and let me finish this.” he motions towards his paper.

“you forget that we’re dorm mates.” todd stands despite wanting too, grabbing his bag from the floor.

“sadly.” dave mutters.

two weeks and there’s still nothing knew with todd and marty bothering dave about his ‘girl’ - as if.

dave was picking through the comics, chewing the inside of his cheek as his head tilts.

“i have that one,” marty mentions in passing as he slips out a joker comic. “you can borrow it if you—” he pauses when he tilts his head, watching as someone steps up behind dave.

dave peeks up, brows lifting slightly at the look at not only marty’s face, but todd’s. “what? you both look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“there’s, like, someone really…really pretty behind you,” todd points. “and i’m not for sure why she’s smiling like—”

dave turns and his eyes widen. “no way?”

you laugh softly, holding your hands out to your sides slightly. “surprise?” his arms are quick to pull you into a tight hug, nose pressing into your hair as he presses a kiss to your forehead. you laugh and wrap your own arms around him.

“i decided to stay two weeks instead of just one.” you pull back, thumb brushing over the faded bruise on his cheekbone with a frown.

“i’m so lucky, huh?” he grins and presses his lips to yours before pulling away too quickly for your liking. his arm drops over your shoulder as he turns to look at marty and todd - a smug look on his face now.

“your name wouldn’t happen to be barbara? would it?” marty asks.

“or kate?” todd asks.

your head tilts slightly and a small, yet, confused smile pulls at your lips. “no,” you introduce yourself. “dave and i have been dating for five months now.”

“oh.” they both say in unison, sharing a look with one another.

“mhm,” dave says. “now. if you’ll excuse us…” he grins and pulls you with him. the bell dings and they watch as you both disappear down the sidewalk.

“told you she was real.” marty says. todd smacks his arm, walking away from him.

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