#Dick: there would be a difference. I’d be better at it

[morganbritton132]

Robin: *fighting a goon*

Goon: Stop! Stop, I quit. I give up.

Robin: Really?

Goon: Yes. Just tie me up for the police.

Robin:

Robin: Give me six dollars.

Goon: What?

Robin, in a fighting stance: Give me six dollars for the book fair or I’ll beat you up. Again.

Goon: *can’t believe they were just getting their ass kicked by a toddler in go-go boots*

Goon: I only got a ten

Robin: Deal.

Batman: *makes him give the money back*

[hoshigray]

love love LOVEE your toji/sukuna fics, mean big guys have me in a chokehold, but even more so if there’s aftercare right after destroying u , I’d like to see how you write that! No pressure, just a suggestion lol

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: no but you're so valid, idk why i keep forgetting about after care, ughhh!! ty for loving my tojikuna stuff <3

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: true form! Sukuna + Toji x fem/afab! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - size difference - monster-fucking (kuna got 2 dicks) - double penetration; anal and vaginal - cowgirl dp position - breast fondling + nipple play + sucking - biting/nibbling - dacryphillia - unprotected sex - aftercare; taking a warm bath together + tending wounds - pet names (baby, [little] dove, pet, princess, sweet thing) - tojikuna being snarky partners; good luck, lmao - mention of blood, drool/spit and tears.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.9k

“Ahaaahhn! T-Tojii, t-too fast, going too fas—Shhaaa!!”

“Heh, y’re complainin’, but y’re the one squeezin’ my dick like crazy.”

“Hmph, right, like some dirty whore…Shit, ass’s so tight…”

You were the partner of both Tōji Fushiguro and Sukuna Ryōmen—a fact that many would be astonished to know and for you to go dizzy thinking about.

How does one lure in the deadly, cursed being proclaimed the King of Curses and a cold-blooded assassin dubbed the Sorcerer Killer? You couldn’t even think of a quick answer to such a question. What you do know is that being a spouse of the terrifying two in this polyamorous relationship was the definition of intense. And that would go for tonight as well.

Being bent and forced to be taken advantage of by your two lovers was nothing out of the ordinary. If anything, it’s almost a daily occurrence when either of them comes and pulls you aside to appease themselves. Nonetheless, what else was a little cute wife like you supposed to do: sit there and look pretty? Not tonight, at least.

You were all confined in your shared quarters, all three bodies atop the futons pulled to the tatami flooring—three bodies stripped from their discarded attire, now nude and meshed together in hot and wanton passion.

Toji was beneath you, yet that didn’t diminish his control over you. You may be straddling him and moving your hips to take in his erect cock into your aching cunt. However, his hands are stationed firmly on your waist, influential to your pace as he bucks into your wetness stuffed on excessive come. The fast ruts make it grueling to find the rhythm—but that’s what the dark-haired man wants, to see you all desperate and wailing from up above. “How ya feelin’, sweet thing?” 

As if you had any room to speak, so winded that wails were the only words you could say. 

“Oi, pet, answer when you’re being talked to.”

And the voice behind you doesn’t make this scene any better.

From your backside, Sukuna’s massive frame hovered over you and Toji’s, his gigantic frame easily dwarfing you both. His lower arms hold you down by the calves, and his upper left keeps him upright from easily squishing his partners. And the upper right crawls up to your throat, suffocating your airways lightly with just his thumb and forefinger.

As the other has you from below, the gigantic cursed man deals with you from above. His lower member is plunged into your rear hole, stretching you to the point of tears with his hefty girth while the other rubs on the crevice of your ass with every push of his hips. The hands on your legs come up to your waist, brushing Toji’s, who moves his to your chest.

His guttural purrs send shivers up to your ears, and the tongue of his stomach probes you with a lick on your sweaty back. “We need words, or else you’ll be crushed without knowing, little dove.”

Because that is what you were: their little wife tending to them as a spouse would. 

You swallow spit before the grip on your throat gets any tighter. “I–I…Feel sho goood…!” You twitch when the behemoth licks and nibbles on your ear so dangerously as if he’s tempted to eat you—he just might be. “—Mmmhh! S-Shoo fuull..”

Toji notices and snickers, “Yeah, baby?” His hands on your breasts are rough, making you whimper. “Doin’ good so far,” he tweezes a nipple, earning a sharp yelp to leave your puffy lips. “Hehm, so adorable, mama…” you cry even more when he pops the other nipple into his mouth; the feel of his tongue on your bud had you hot. 

“—Hnnm!! Fucking hell, this ass…!” Sukuna’s groans are felt, the vibrations rattling your bones. “Keep grippin’ me like that, princess..” He adds more weight and has you howling like no tomorrow. The nails of his fingers leave dents that you’re sure to see later on—just more to add onto the collection harboring all over your skin – bites and marks galore. 

Your eyebrows screw together, drool escaping your agape lips. The laps around your nipple become feverish along with Toji’s thrusts, and Sukuna pistoning his cock so harshly; it makes you wobble, yet you maintain your balance for the older man beneath you to keep sucking and playing with your chest. 

“—Taahh, uhhgg, sh-shiiit,” your hands grip the sheets as your eyes roll to the top–a sign that you were to fall into your release in mere seconds from the constant rubs of your sensitive spots.

Clamping onto their shafts, you shriek during the impending climax, the walls of your holes puckering and contracting around the limbs that graze your sensitive nerves. You finally give in and fumble atop Toji, luckily catching your expected reaction with a smirk. “Fuck, feel so good and tight,” he kisses your cheek and chortles when your arms sling around his neck. “Stay still, baby; let us finish here.”

The two men still undulate their hips, their dicks ravaging your insides even when you’re stuck in your crescendo. You nearly choke on your spit, wailing as you’re forced to submit to their frantic bucks, and the sounds of them moaning and groaning only fuel your ears to clench them even tighter. It has both men hiss and tighten their hold on you, Toji burrowing his face to bite your shoulder while Sukuna’s fangs dig into the other. And you can tell blood was drawn as the giant licks the inflicted marking.

At your scream, they simultaneously bust their loads into your trembling frame, stuffing you with more of their essence in your cunt and asshole. And Sukuna’s upper cock dispels its semen out to paint your back. The sensation of their lengths pulsating inside you has you quiver, hiccupping when they sneak in short yet fierce pounds into your sore holes until their sweaty frames succumb to tranquility. Then, they remove their limbs with a blissful groan to your sob, come sliding and dripping down to your thighs. 

Finally, you sigh into Toji’s chest as he kisses your forehead and kneads your ass lovingly. I can finally rest now…

However, you squeak when your body is pulled upward so quickly, and you’re now being held by Sukuna, who straightens up and stands up. He scoffs, “Relax, dove.” The hand under your legs squeezes the flesh of your thigh. 

Leaving Toji to the futon, the cursed ancient man thunderously strides out to the room two rooms down from the shared room. He slides the shoji door open after the changing room, and you’re instantly met with a wave of humid air from the bathing area. Ripples from the humongous stone bath become more evident as Sukuna closes in, and the water climbs when he gets inside with his massive volume.

He sits, the water sitting above the mouth of his abdomen. He has you sitting on his lap, yet his lower arms still hold you close to his chest. With the upper left, he brings the wooden bucket the servants left behind to scoop with water and pours it gently above your head. 

Your hands wipe the water from your face, but a washcloth and a colossal hand wipe it down for you. “Y-You know, I can clean myself,” you inquire with a scrunched expression as Sukuna wipes your cheeks a little too rough. 

“With your shaky legs, I’d be amazed if you’d even make three steps out of the room.” You pout at his tease, and it only has him want to poke fun at you more. “Like a baby deer trying to walk.”

You snatch the washcloth with a heated face. “Quit it!” Humiliated, you sigh and raise your left arm to dap on the markings decorated on your skin. However, he takes it away from you, his lower left gently grabbing your arm for the lower right to compress the damp cloth on your sore markings. 

“Let me.” He wasn’t asking, leaving you no space to interject his company. He pulls an ointment from the other wooden basket into the washcloth; the lavender scent pleases your nostrils while the minty sensation cleanses your skin. “Sit back,” he orders you, and you allow your back to rest on his torso, watching the man tend to the wounds he and his partner inflicted on you. It almost puts you to sleep, sighing pleasingly and relaxing to the monster’s touch. 

Speaking of, “Wow, so ya leave me at the room to clean up after you two, huh?” Toji enters the bathing space, joining you and Sukuna in the warm water. “What am I, y’r maid?”

“You seem to have walked here on your own just fine.” Sukuna bends to place a kiss on top of your head while the raven-haired other approaches closer. “You have no room to complain, Fushiguro.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” you observe Toji come to you between Sukuna’s legs. “Hey, mama, feel better?” You nod to him meekly while he cups your cheeks with one hand. He then brings you to a soft kiss, mewling to his lips while his wet thumb brushes your cheek. “Mmm, so cute…Stand up fr’ me.”

He takes the wet cloth from Sukuna’s grasp while you slowly rise. He helps you turn around to have your back to him, your hands clinging onto Sukuna’s thighs while the giant gives the human male a cream to place on the rag. Toji then rubs circles on the red crescents of your waist–dents marked from Sukuna’s nails–and you jerk and hiss at the contact. 

“I know, sweetie, I know,” he coaxes you with whispers to the ear and a kiss on your shoulder. “Blame ‘Kuna for doin’ a number on ya.”

“Keh, I know you’re not talking,” the salmon-haired one sniggers as he grabs another dry cloth to wipe your collarbone. “I can count with three hands how many of these hickeys aren’t mine.” 

The other barks a laugh. “Now I know y’r ass is lyin’.” The two men humor themselves on the trauma they just put you and your tiny body through, and you can only shake your head at their insufferableness. Yet, at the very least, they’re taking their roles as your lovers to take care of your body. Not so bad, isn’t it?

Especially when the bathing is over, and you’re all clean from the event that transpired an hour ago, sleep stops evading you, and you return to the shared room ready for slumber. To end the night, the candles are blown out, you’re adorning your yukata robe for your soft skin, and Toji and Sukuna wait for you on the futon to conclude this session. 

Toji has you to his right, arm around your figure to keep you close to his warmth. This gives you the view of his easeful sleeping face; the moonlight from the opened shoji window panels makes it easy to trace his handsome features and the deft scar on his lips. To his left was Sukuna, his tremendous size unavoidable, and his strength still evident as his upper arm cages you and the other older man in proximity. The pink-haired beast purrs at the rub of Toji’s hand on his nape and hair, and you giggle at the display—like a giant cat.

Seeing the Sorcerer Killer and the King of Curses act so leisurely around someone is inconceivable; not many live to see such a picture when met with their brute force and killing instincts. And yet, you suppose that makes you more valuable than anyone, their sole and precious partner.

And as you bury your face and let the blanket of sleep take over, you rest for yet another night, knowing you’re in the best care you could ask for.

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ☆ header edit done by me + dividers by @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more.

[starry-songs-canvas]

Take Care of Him

The boy, who had Damian’s face, couldn’t be more different than Dick’s (alive?) baby brother.

Aside from his Snow White hair, he smiled and laughed freely, making puns on top of his embarrassing story about his supposed twin brother.  

(“Clones don’t have childhood memories right?  So if I have an embarrassing story or two, that’ll give you a way to check that I’m not a clone AND give you ammunition for teasing!”)

“—And that’s how his face—and his pride—was forever wounded by Sparta the warrior cat!”  Danny finished his story with a flourish, cracking up immediately after.

“Huh, and to think he left it at “training”, obviously he didn’t think anyone would let the cat out of the bag.”  Dick said, laughing even as he eyed the lookalike.

Danny snorted.  “Yeah, I doubt he thought anything as Cat-astropic as that would happen.”

They sat in silence for a moment, overlooking the buildings below, with the Dalv. Co. Labs smoking in the distance and the breeze blowing past the two, yet only seeming to affect Nightwing and not the phantom beside him.

“Is he safe?  Is he happy?” Danny murmurs as he looks up at the stars, looking every bit the forlorn ghost he claimed to be.

“…We keep each other safe.  And I’d say once he got past the stabbing faze, he’s pretty happy in Gotham.”

“But I’m sure it’d make him happy to see you again.”  Dick thought back to the comments the vampire-ghost they’d fought earlier.  It didn’t sound exactly, “happy” or “safe” for Danny.  Or anyone else involved.

Danny shook his head.  “Nah.  He’s… moved on.  And with how crazy my after-life is?  I’m already dealing with ghosts, ghost-hunters, and my—err—that frootloop from earlier.  I do not need to add furries and murder-ninjas to the mix.”

Danny sighed as he floated into a standing position.  “Speaking of which, if you could just, maybe not tell him you saw me?  Better to let dead dogs lie.”

Danny’s piercing Lazarus green eyes looked at Dick and he saw the exact same expression B had on whenever he “had to do it alone”.

“Just, take care of him, Kay?  Or I’ll haunt you to the ends of the universe!”  He said, throwing up a peace sign as he turned invisible.

Dick snorted, “Yeah, sure kid.”

Dick got up and started off toward the bat-plane.  He had a brother to interrogate, and another brother/clone of his brother to find.

[rizzanon]

Imagine being the neglected daughter of Bruce Wayne. No matter how hard you tried, you were always a shadow in a house full of larger-than-life personalities. You trained until your muscles ached, went on as many patrols as you could, and pushed yourself far beyond your limits—anything to earn even a sliver of attention from your father or siblings. But it never worked.

They always seemed so caught up in their own lives, their own missions, their own struggles. Dick was the golden boy, your father’s favourite no doubt. Jason was the black sheep of the family, but everyone still cared abiut him. Tim was the genius strategist, very much like your father, someone who felt so out of reach for you. Damian was the prodigy heir, the blood son, as he liked to flaunt, and someone able to have a proper father-son bond with Bruce. Cassandra was the silent powerhouse who also had an unshakable bond with Bruce, and Duke? Duke was the bright light—the one who somehow fit into the family dynamic faster than you ever could.

And you? You didn’t fit anywhere. You were just there, occupying space, trying so desperately to carve a place for yourself in a family that didn’t seem to have room for you.

You told yourself it would get better. That one day, they’d see you. But that day never came.

By the time you were twenty, you’d long since lost yourself in the role of being “Bruce Wayne’s daughter.” You couldn’t even remember what you liked or what you wanted for yourself anymore. What’s worde was that you weren’t even acknowledged as Bruce Wayne’s daughter. You were a disgrace, the media and public not letting you forget about your “disgraceful” bloodline. Your mother had an affair with Bruce Wayne years ago, and the moment you were born, she just left you at the doorstep of the manor, and completely disappeared. You weren’t wanted by your mother, nor your father. Nor by anyone else. Yet, you still tried. Hoping that things would change. Things would be different. But then, one night, everything ended.

It was a routine patrol. You’d tracked a lead on a drug ring to a rundown warehouse. It should have been simple. But then the shootout started. You held your own as best as you could, but you weren’t fast enough. You weren’t strong enough.

As you lay there bleeding out, alone in the cold darkness of the alley, all you could think about were regrets.

You wished you hadn’t wasted so much of your life chasing the approval of a family that didn’t seem to care. You wished you hadn’t pushed away your friends—the ones who told you that you deserved better, who begged you to stop throwing yourself into something that was breaking you. You wished you’d never picked up a mask at all.

Crime-fighting wasn’t for you. You knew that deep down. You wanted to help people, yes, but you weren’t like your brothers and sister. You didn’t have their instincts, their skills, their drive. It was like everyone else was built for this life, as if it was etched into their very bones. But you weren’t like them. You were trying to fight battles you weren’t built for, all because you thought it would make them notice you.

And as the world faded, your final thought was this: If I could do it all over again, I’d leave. I’d move out the second I could. I’d erase every trace of (Name) Wayne and start over. I’d live for myself.

Then everything went dark.

When you opened your eyes, the first thing you noticed was the ceiling of your bedroom at Wayne Manor. You sat up, your heart pounding. The pain was gone, your wounds were gone—everything felt… normal. Too normal.

You looked down at yourself, noticing your hands were smaller, your frame slighter. Confused, you stumbled to the mirror across the room, and what you saw made your breath catch.

It was you. But younger. You couldn’t have been older than sixteen.

Your mind raced. Was this some kind of hallucination? A cruel trick? But then your gaze caught the date on your phone. It was four years ago.

You were sixteen again.

Should I write about this??

edit: yes, i think i’m gonna write this now, just need at least a few days to draft the storyline and see where i want to go with it 🫶

edit 2: yes, i’ve already started working on this , go check it out!! <3

[rileysluvr]

simon riley has a thing for lips. your lips, more specifically.

whenever you’re with him, he can’t help but have his attention focused entirely on your pretty lips. stationary or not, smiling or frowning; tunnel-vision takes over and everything outside turns to muffled ringing and blurry objects. they’re just so sweet and full, and the different glosses you coat your lips in throughout the many days at work all have low groans threatening to spill over his own, each and every time he lays eyes on you. though, the only word that comes to his mind as his gaze is tracing over every curve and divot when he knows you aren’t looking, is fuckable. and he knows it’s wrong, but…

your lips would look so, so good wrapped around his cock. as far as the head goes, anyway; he knows just the tip would suffice in filling that tiny mouth of yours. still, his mind runs rampant at the thought of seeing just how much you can take. how long he can use you until you’re absolutely writhing and crying under him, begging for a break.

the way your lips would stretch and turn swollen in a way only he could give you, the prospect has him reeling. he’d turn a perfect, clever thing such as yourself into a fucked-out, ruined little toy. drool pouring from the corners of your mouth, nodding your dizzy head and smiling for more despite already taking everything he gave you.

unfortunately, simon riley doesn’t think his morals could become any more corrupt when he backs you into a corner and discovers you’ve never taken a cock in your mouth, ever.

the smirk on his face grows at your confession, and even more when he sees how flustered and embarrassed you’re getting under his stare. you had no choice but to tell him, you think. he takes your face in his big hands, mumbling something along the lines of, “poor thing…it’s alright, love. i’ll teach ya.”

and before you know it, mental entrapment becomes reality when he’s pushing you to your knees, back against the cold wall as you watch him pull his hard dick out from the confines of his cargo pants. big and mean, just like the rest of him, and you whimper at the lone sight of it. he’s pulling the tactical glove off his burly fist and throwing it somewhere off to the side as you watch dumbly, and wrapping his fingers around the throbbing veins and sheer width of his shaft.

you can’t say you’ve ever been this intimidated by anything, but you absentmindedly lick your lips with hunger as you await whatever he’ll give you, watching him slowly fist his fat cock right in front of your worried face. he snickers at the sight, mumbling more to himself: “i’ve finally got you on your knees, and you still manage to test me.”

“open up, baby, that’s right. stick that pretty tongue out, just like that. i’ll go easy on you,” he huffs, and you listen instantly.

“fuck. watch the teeth, watch it,” he tisks, and when you can’t listen—because, well, who could while being this dumbified on cock? it’s your first time, you can’t be blamed—he’s forced to shove a thumb in your mouth, right beside his cock to hold your jaw down. it’s a tight fit and your lips sting and jaw hurts from the further strain, but a few words can cure all. “that’s right, pretty girl. just lemme use this mouth like we both need, and i’ll reward you soon enough.”

“y’know how long i’ve been meanin’ to do this?” of course, you can only respond with muffled gags as he shoves himself deeper, back of your head pressing up against the wall behind you almost painfully, testing your limits. tears blur your vision but you keep your eyes on him because he told you to, and you’d be crazy not to listen to your lieutenant, even if his ethics have strayed to nothing short of utterly debauched.

“always teasin’ me with those fuckin’ lips, like you knew i’d be watching, eh? that was your goal, yeah, to get me t’teach you how to put them to good use? ‘cause it worked, lovie…doin’ so fuckin’ good for me already… ‘nd we’re gonna make you even better.”

you rub your thighs together and even try to rock your hips a bit, searching for any semblance of pleasure that’s equivalent to his, but it wont come. he laughs at you again, that fucking laugh that shouldn’t turn you on as much as it does. “isn’t that right, princess?”

afterwards, he’ll shove his spent cock back in his pants and redo his buckle as he watches you, desperately panting on the ground in front of him and catching your breath. grasping at your throat, shoulders heaving, beautiful. he’ll join you in kneeling on the floor, frowning sarcastically when you’re barely able to meet his eyes while his are fixated on yours. and christ, the way your saliva and his cum drips over the edges just like he had imagined— no, even better. tears are permanently welled at your waterline and it’s no less than a gorgeous sight. he’ll study your every feature, every detail on your face that can give him any insight to what you’re thinking, feeling, wanting.

rather, it’s the way you shift in your uncomfortable spot and your thighs are squeezed together in his peripheral that has one corner of his lips curling, a scoff of amusement leaving his lungs. oh, he’s got you. his bare hand comes up to cup your face and the thumb that was once prying your jaw apart for his pleasure now caresses the apple of your cheekbone, almost lovingly, like he really cares.

“is my pretty girl wet?” he teases, giving you no time to compute the happenings of before your throat was tainted with the bitter-sweetness of his cum. he pushes a knee between both of yours, ignoring your groggy pleas of embarrassment, and shoves his other hand down your pants. he delves a thick finger in your cunt without any warning, and then another, effectively hushing your babbles and turning them into a strained hmph and bashful whimpers.

“tight little cunt’s practically soaked, and all from suckin’ your lieutenant’s cock?” you open your mouth to explain but a soft moan comes out before any words can, which might’ve been for the best. what could you even say in this moment? “christ, you’re a dirty fuckin’ thing, aren’t ya? and y’won’t even try to deny it… bet y’just love being treated like this, all mindless and stupid for your boss.”

he’s laughing at you, again. “we can’t just leave you like this, now, can we? are you gonna let me help you out, sweetheart?”

and with pinched brows, glassy eyes, and a quivering, alluring bottom lip, you can only think to nod your head, yes, sir.

[deadsetobsessions]

Some night, he flew above the twinkling lights of Blüdhaven’s buildings, wind rushing through his hair and the feeling of weightlessness pushing at the curve of his back.

There were a multitude of things that Dick Grayson appreciated, loved, Bruce for. One of those things would always be that his adopted dad allowed him to fly once more, even after his parents’ wings were cut.

In the air, he was home.

In the air, Dick Grayson felt like he was living up to, flying alongside, the Flying Graysons. Every flip, every trick he used to go faster, to fight better, felt like his parents were there guiding his every move.

Time healed his hurt, but still, the hole in his heart remained.

So when one of his best friends, a ghost vigilante by the name Phantom, asked him if he wanted to see his parents, he froze like a deer in bright white headlights.

“What…?”

Phantom did a flip in midair. “Wanna see your parents? They’ve been asking if they could talk to you.”

“My parents… are ghosts?” That was the least pressing question he had right now, but it was all his mouth could speak.

“Kind of. It’s complicated,” Phantom side-eyed him. “It would require going into the zone.”

And just like that, Dick understood. After the Amity Park came onto the map and the Justice League fixed the human and alien and meta rights violations that were happening right under their nose, Phantom had permanently closed all access to the Zone. Save, of course, for himself and a few magic users, who all refused to anger the King of the Dead.

“The only way you’re getting to my people now, is through me. Should anyone try to get into the zone, without my permission… I will make sure that you and your family’s afterlives will pay the appropriate price.”

No-one wanted to test his threat. The afterlife is something few fucked with and came back whole.

The Phantom they’d seen on the news then was incredibly different than the one in front of him now. Dick knows, understands now, that it was because Phantom trusted him. After years of being denied help, years of struggling all by himself to keep reality from collapsing while avoiding getting experimented on by humans understandably closed his heart.

“You’d take me into the Zone?” Dick didn’t know what he was feeling. Hope, fear, trust, touched, happiness, something.

A lot of things.

Danny shrugged. “Yeah. I trust you,” he said as he glanced back at Dick-at Nightwing. “Only you, though. No one else.”

The question that remained was whether Dick trusted Phantom too. And considering the fact that the ghost king ironically saved his ass from being killed a couple of times meant, “Yeah. I- I’d love to.”

Danny smiled, all pointed teeth and solemn trust. “Okay. Let’s go.”

“Now?!” Dick stood up anyways, his heart in his throat. Danny held out a gloved hand.

“Yeah, now. Haven’t you heard that death waits for no one?” At Dick’s concerned look, Danny added, “Don’t worry. You won’t actually die. You’ll come back whole and alive, I promise.”

“Oh, okay. Let’s go, then!”

——

Clark Kent threw himself out of the window, Superman suit already on.

Seonds later, he was hovering in front of Bruce’s shadowy form on top of a gargoyle.

“Clark,” Batman greeted in his gravelly voice, irritated. “What.”

“Batman, Nightwing’s heartbeat- it disappeared!”

Bruce’s heartbeat stuttered.

[tojisun]

!! minors dni; simon x cam girl f!reader; kinda sexting; UNEDITED and RAMBLING // divider by @/plutism <3

yall know those ‘ask me’ thingies in instagram and how theyre not anonymous? mmmprmn thinkin about simon finally giving in and sends cam girl! reader replies (he’s not tech savvy, forgive him 😔)

the questions are always fashioned the same way, he’s noticed. you only ever post those, anyway, when you’re in the middle of editing a new video but it’s taking too long so to keep your loyal viewers interested, you entertain them with little questions.

“which toy next?” you posted, showcasing four different sex toys splayed on your bed—a purple sucking vibrator, that bullet vibrator you’ve made multiple videos on, a rainbow-coloured dildo, and another one that squirts which is simon’s favourite if he’s being honest.

you always did cum the hardest when you’re being pumped full. simon wonders how much more intense would it be if you were properly fucked and filled; stuffed continuously, repeatedly, until your pussy’s all wet and sensitive. until it takes—

overtaken by his desire, he gives in and he types out his answer, “a real prick would look better in you.”

he didn’t expect you to see it, let alone for you to reply, but you did and simon reads it with a huff.

> ok troll

i’d volunteer myself, really. <

> yeah right. like i can trust you

what? you want proof that i can make you feel good? <

your reply doesn’t come in and he knows that you must want the whole interaction to end there, but simon won’t let you—doll, he’s finally managed to talk to the girl he’s been fantasizing about, did you really think he’d let the opportunity pass? you don’t even know how many times he’s fucked his fist to the videos of you bullying a dildo in your sopping cunt or the ones of you squirting while you ride that saddled vibrator that punches out guttural moans from the base of your throat.

jesus, just thinking about you mewling and creaming, your skin shimmering with your sweat, has simon chubbing up in his sweats.

so he gets bolder, changing his accounts—both this and the one he’s used to subscribe to your site—so that you know it’s him. he uploads pictures, exposing enough of himself that it feels real and authentic, and begins to tack on messages to every tips he gives.

it takes about two months until you finally caved.

> so… youre not a troll :(

why the sad face? did you want me to be? <

> course not!

> hby? what do YOU want

simon licks at his chapped lips, his legs unconsciously spreading already.

how about pics? show you what i was volunteering? <

> uh

> you wanna send a dick pic?

yeah. evens out the relationship, don’t it? after all, i just about know how your pussy looks and how it squirts. <

> youre soooo weird LOL

> but sure yea why not ig

simon snorts because try as you may, you don’t sound unbothered at all. after all, he knows you’ve been looking back at him—you followed him back in his socials, you even respond to all his tips and messages, and one time you even moaned his alias out loud during your stream. really, you’re not subtle with your own interest at all.

he pulls his sweats down and takes a pic of his half-chub. it’s a little blurry, and the angle captures more of the tuft of hair than the way his cock’s all flushed and filling-out, but simon knows what a decent dick picture looks like—they’ve all received numerous from mactavish—and this one looks good enough so he sends it to you and watches as his message goes from delivered to seen.

you don’t reply right away, nor after three minutes—he knows because the commercials ended and his game’s back on—and simon wonders if you’re back to ignoring him when—

> oh

> thats a good dick

he laughs, booming.

oh so you want it now? <

a speech bubble appears, then it disappears, then it appears again. this happens for a while and it’s somewhat entertaining to simon, mirth filling him up. then, you finally send your reply and this time simon couldn’t stop the barked out laughter that rumbles from his throat because you sent him your address.

simon’s out the door in minutes, his bike keys clutched in his fist.

[bonebrokebuddy]

honestly? I love that. As someone who has multiple siblings, I respect that take heavily

What if I lived in a reality where Wally and Bart were close

[leonkennedygvrl]

My father loves me with every inch of his manhood.

real dad leon x virgin reader

🌹 warning: 18+, p in v, oral (m recieving), creampies, incest, size difference, dead dove, tummy bulge, squirting, rape kink, baby trapping, murder, gore, leon’s gross and weird so beware! and enjoy :)

divider credits to @firefly-graphics

Oh, what a mistake she was! Leon felt a fool for thinking she was the one, maybe the sex was satisfying at first but God slicing through her felt even better. Her pussy was never tight enough anyways, and he’s a man with needs. That’s why he made you watch. Pretty little daughter, hardly resembles her whore of a mother. You’re trapped in a cage down in the basement, watching your daddy straddle your mommy.

And flesh was ripping. Audible. Blood was everywhere, flowing. Her eyes were wide. Just like her wounds as he slowly plunged the knife back inside her body. Again, again, and again. Ignoring your muffled cries, stupid silly girl. It’s okay, he had plans for you.

“Dad—daddy, please stop! She’s dead! Mommy’s dead!” You screamed with all your might, but it only earned a raspy chuckle. You were just… so shocked to be disgusted by your father. And even more so when he stood up and grabbed your mother’s hair, shoving her face against the glass you were behind. A gasp leaving your lips, her face was fucked up. You didn’t want to look at it.

You squeezed your eyes shut, hiding behind your palms as you turned away.

“She’s prettier like this, baby. No? You don’t think so?” Leon asked, her neck was slit. A gaping cut, multiple stab wounds over her décolletage. Blood coating her jewellery that he bought her, maybe he’d pass it down to you. That shit was expensive. Plus, you liked pretty things. Pretty girls did. And you were very, very pretty. That’s why he was hard, and it was not because he’d murdered your mother.

Okay, maybe a little bit. He liked the control. He watched you sob, back hunched over that he could see your spine in the cute dress you wore. You were such a sweetheart, your closet consisted of a fashionista’s dream! Heels, frilly socks, garters, purses and accessories. Much better than your mom, she was just basic. At least to him.

“Baby, it’s alright. I love you, that’s all that matters. You don’t need mommy.” He cooed, releasing the grip on her hair and kneeling down, watching as you meekly peeked through to look at him. Soggy tears all clumped together and your lips pouted. He felt his stomach flutter. “Yeah, attagirl. Cm’ere, I’d never hurt you.”

You always wondered why you were just a little bit fucked up in the head, yes mommy’s death hurt but daddy was just so much more important. Mommy couldn’t protect you, her press-ons would probably fall off if she even tried. But daddy was strong and he’d tear down anything to help you. Your shaky hands touched the ground, crawling over to him and pressing your palm against the glass.

“But you hurt mommy.” You doubted. Foolish, right? You expected him to be irritated but his eyes were soft as he looked down at you, but there was something in there. Something dark. Something that wanted to ruin you. He pressed his own palm to the glass, so much bigger than yours. “I miss mom, please… she—she…”

“Shh, don’t worry about her. You gonna let dad come in there with you?” Leon asked, he was dirty with blood but his dick hurt the longer he looked at you. In his eyes, you were perfect. You just needed a little tweaking. His dick could do that.

You looked at your mother’s limp body, wanting to puke. You should’ve hated your dad, but you couldn’t. You actually think you hated your mom a little more, she wasn’t the greatest individual.

Little feet of yours pattered on the ground, you were just a toddler in need of some love. Dad was never around, at least not much. He was gone for weeks at a time, so you’d always go to your mother but she was busy as well. On the phone, talking to Katie. Katie was her best friend since university, and as much as you stood by her legs, grabby hands wanting to be picked up, she paid no mind to you.

“No, no, no. I told her she couldn’t just nitpick about everything, Katie! She just doesn’t listen, and now she wants my advice? That’s not happening.” Your mother scoffed into the phone, hardly sparing you a glance as she shooed you away and leaned against the kitchen counter. “Honestly, I’m glad Mark cheated on her. Maybe that would teach her a lesson.”

Or another time when you were a little older, just beginning elementary school. You were scared. You were never good at socialising, and as your mother opened the car door she ushered you out quickly, still on the phone.

“Oh my, really? That’s great news, I’m sure Graham is a nice guy. Is the ring good? I mean, if he isn’t emptying his wallet on you then he’s probably not going to be a great husband Katie.” Your mother chatted, and you looked up at her, hoping for at least some reassurance.

No, she didn’t care much about you. You were just an annoying addition to the family because Leon wanted children. That’s when she got a little turned off, but she stuck with him because he gave her cash. And while he was off on missions, you observed everything.

Also, the first day wasn’t great. You got bullied.

Teen years you were a little smarter, always eavesdropping on your mother. But she started getting a little TMI with Katie, and you figured it was just the best friend privilege. You didn’t have much of that growing up, kids avoided you.

“He’s perfect, Katie. He has it all, you know? I don’t know why I even bothered with Leon, he’s such a prick sometimes. He doesn’t make any time for me and it’s just frustrating! Like, you know that italian restaurant I told you about? A few months ago, they had an all you can eat and I told him about it and guess what,” your mother rambled, openly admitting her afair. This is where you held a dislike for her deep down because how dare she? “He went on another goddamn mission!”

You thought back to all of that as you stared at your mother’s dead body, maybe dad was right. She deserved this, you don’t know why you felt guilty. So you nodded, and the grim smirk that had crossed his face made you a little uneasy.

Leon stood back up, digging into his pocket for the key to the cage and once he entered, he almost orgasmed in his pants at the sight of you looking up at him from the ground. He shoved you back against the glass, eliciting a little confused noise from your lips before his bulge was in your face and you felt sick.

“Oh, baby. You didn’t think I was going to come in ‘ere and pamper you or something did you?” Leon asked rhetorically, not much care in his tone as he unzipped his jeans and pulled his dick out of the confines. Big, bigger than the ones you’ve seen in porn. Except they were all circumcised and bare to fit standards but he wasn’t, his pubic hair was shaggy and he pulled his foreskin back.

“D—dad, no! This is wrong!” You exclaimed, feeling the bulbous tip press against your lips making you tilt your face to the side.

And now the softness was gone as he grabbed the hair atop your scalp, tugging hard and straightening your head. It hurt, your lips parting in surprise.

“Shut up, pretty. Should be thanking me, mmm..” Leon cut himself off with a groan as he pushed into your warm, wet mouth. Your tears had come back, streaming down your puffy cheeks as your lips stretched around his cock. “Been working for so damn long, providing for you. Got you cute things to make you happy and I got rid of that fickle bitch.”

He felt your throat stutter around his dick as you gagged, making his abdomen clench. Tight mouth, tight pussy, pretty face and a cute body. It made sense though, he made you after all. And he knew that deep down, you liked this shit. You could’ve used your hands to stop him, but you didn’t.

“Hm, smart girl.” He praised, pulling almost all the way out and then shoving his hips forward. A warm and gooey sensation in his gut, he could’ve cum right there. Your mom didn’t like blowjobs, figured it’d give her wrinkles. As if she wasn’t boxed up on botox. That he paid for.

“You just need dad, I know you do.” Leon repeated the action, feeling your hands finally press onto his thighs but you made no attempt go push him off — instead your nails dug into his skin, your vision blurred with tears as you watched him, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

And his words, well, they made your panties feel wet. You didn’t know what it was because the only time it felt like this was when you got your period and didn’t realise you needed pads, you avoided tampons; doing enough research because ignorant momma didn’t want to teach you a thing, and you heard of TSS and it scared you.

Your throat was constricting the harder he thrusted, lips closing around his dick until your cheeks hollowed out. You were sucking his dick, like a popsicle. Because in a depraved way, you liked the taste. It was musky but clean, like he used soap on it or something. And your nose was buried in his pubes each time he bottomed out, different variations of grunts leaving his mouth.

“God, better than your mom. So much better,” Leon moaned weakly, tightening his grip on your hair as he thrusted with increased fervour. He just wanted a taste, he didn’t want to cum inside this pretty mouth. Save that for another day. “But you don’t need to breathe, right baby?”

“Ggmmph—“ You tried, feeling his fingers pinch your nostrils effectively suffocating you as he stilled his movements. Your throat was even tighter now, and he felt jittery, biting down hard on his lip. He always wanted to choke a girl this way.

When you started turning all blue, he pulled out of your mouth and grinned darkly, pulling his hand away as your mascara was running down your face and your nose was all snotty. Cute. He liked the messy type.

“Sorry, baby. Did I hurt you?” Leon asked condescendingly, putting his hands beneath your armpits and forcing you to stand up as you coughed and stuttered, feeling brainless and dizzy. You couldn’t reply, the world was spinning right now and your dad was about to rape you. And you were letting it happen.

For two reasons, you knew it was absolutely pointless to try and stop him and you didn’t hate this. You remember a few accounts on twitter that post incel porn and you would cum faster to that, rubbing your clit.

“Time to test your pussy, but I hope you don’t mind honey. Dad doesn’t have a woman now, you made me kill her.” Leon muttered, bunching the hem of your dress up at your hips and pressing his fingers against the soaking wet gusset of your panties, feeling your engorged clit.

“You little slut, you’re getting off to this. You’re wetter than ever,” He degraded meanly, pulling them to the side and rubbing the head of his dick against your slit, watching as you jumped and convulsed, head tilting back against the wall as you weakly protested. “Daddy’s dick is just crying for this pussy, baby. Be a good girl and take it, okay?”

You sobbed, eyes fluttering closed as he pressed his dick into your entrance and then shoved it inside, breaking your hymen almost instantly as you squealed from the harsh intrusion and immediately grabbed his shoulders.

“F—fuck, fuck! Dad!” You cried, hearing his shaky exhale as you clenched down repeatedly. He was too big, you could feel him in your stomach. You tried pushing him away, but then his large hands snaked around your hips, pulling you up and straight back down onto his throbbing cock.

“You’re… a fucking virgin?” He questioned, shaking his head and then laughing mockingly. His sweet girl was cursing now, that was new. He thrusted at a slew rate, one hand moving up your body, touching the bulge in your lower abdomen, ghosting over your breasts and then grabbing your chin.

He squished your wet cheeks together, pursing your lips like a fish as whined.

“Answer me, baby. Tell me you’re a sweet virgin.” Leon said, tightening his grip painfully when you didn’t answer making you flutter around his dick. Slick gushing down his heavy balls, the plap, plap, plap noises reverberating through the basement.

“I—I’m a… sweet virgin, daddy..” You whispered, eyes opening wide to look up at his reprobated face, though he looked a little red himself as he moved his hips rhythmically feeling your chubby pussy pull his dick in like a suction cup.

“Yeah, a sweet virgin turned whore.” Leon mocked, stilling his hips until his tip pressed against your cervix, watching as your expression contorted into a mix of pain and perverted pleasure. If he was a better man, he’d feel guilty. But the blood on his hands served to say that he was maybe a little, or a lot, deranged. And it’s alright because he knew you were too.

“Dad… please,” you moaned, feeling too full. You needed him to move, to touch your abandoned clit, to give you something other than the pain you were feeling. “Please just… move, just fuck me.”

Leon tilted his head, had he really corrupted your little brain? He hummed, resuming his movements and watching as your lips parted in a silent gasp, and then the punched out moans that escaped you. Yeah, he knew it. You were a perfect little thing, toes curling the harder he got, the frilly socks were a little stained and looked miniature in comparison to his boots.

“I am fucking you, honey.” He muttered, pressing a few kissed along your jawline as your head leaned up and your eyes rolled back when his fingers ghosted across your clit, rubbing firm circles around the sensitive bud. “Cute little pussy need a baby inside it, right?”

There you go, with a shaky scream you clenched down hard on his dick. The words were enough to bring a clear liquid squirting out of your pussy, his hips stuttering as he moaned, you were just convulsing, back arching into him as your breasts bounced until they were peeking out of your dress.

“Yeah, you do. Fuck, squirting around me like a goddamn slut.” Leon grunted, voice a little more hoarse at this point. He was nearing his own orgasm, and he wanted to fill you up completely. He wanted to do so much to you. He wanted to crawl up inside you and watch his sperm take, watch the entire beautiful process of conception.

He thrusted a couple more times before pausing inside, his warm and gooey cum filling your womb up completely until you felt like it would leak out of your mouth.

The beads of sweat that had formed on his forehead made the front strands of his hair a little wet as he watched you pant and tremble in his hold, his arms wrapping around the arch of your back and holding you against him. Yeah, he was a dickhead but he cared.

“You’re perfect, baby. Such a good girl.” He murmured, kissing the top of your face as you melted into his embrace. He didn’t bother pulling out. “Gotta keep you plugged up.”

A million times better than your mother, and speaking of which he’d need to dispose of her stupid body. Maybe after another round, and then a bath. And then a night of sleep.

[messenger-of-babel]

Doorstep Ghosts

Summary: Dick takes you into his apartment when you appear on his doorstep, unable to cope with the recent accident. (Dick Grayson x reader)

Word Count: 1.9K

Notes: Is this even angst anymore? I don’t know. I might have missed the mark a little bit. Warning for sensitive topics and alluded to mentions of suicide. Maddd survivors guilt. If you are triggered I’d suggest to avoid all together just in case. If you are feeling that way, please reach out to someone and call the panic line in your country. There's always someone willing to listen. <3

I had to try and research the difference of whump vs. angst and I still don’t fully understand so I’m just gonna run off of vibes. This might classify more as hurt/comfort actually. Waah idk. Much love, RiRi~ xx

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Since the accident, Dick had been keeping close tabs on you.

He had asked Tim if Red Robin could keep a tab on you, even though Tim had his own ordeals to handle back in Gotham. Bruce had even chipped in when Dick asked, transferring him some money so Dick could move you into a safer apartment. Dick hated taking Bruce's money, he could do fine without it, and quite frankly he didn't want to take what he hadn't worked for himself. However, when it came to your safety, he put that aside for a moment. He wasn't going to risk it, so within the week you were in a nicer part of Bludhaven with a state-of-the-art security system secretly set up to ping him if anything went wrong.

He had been so careful, so meticulous about making sure that you were okay that when you appeared on his front step one night, soaked through to the bone and dripping on his doorstep he was stunned. Your eyes were red rimmed and puffy, snot building in your swollen nose. Your arms hugged around yourself to bite back the chill of winter, hair matted to your forehead.

"Can I come in?" you sniffle, quaking. Wordlessly he steps back, arm opening to usher you in and shut the door behind you. His mind is reeling, unsure how you managed to find your way here, halfway across town, without him or anyone back in Gotham noticing. He frowns softly, pulling you into the living room and disappearing to find you a towel. Bringing two fresh ones back, he hands one to you and unfurls the other. Softly he begins to dry your hair while you wipe down the rest of your body, jacket peeling away and making a wet plop on the floor next to you. "It's unsafe for you to be out, especially this late at night. How did you even get here?" He murmurs, squeezing the water from your scalp.

"I took the train." you say back weakly, voice crackly from hours of crying. His frown deepens, fingers clenching in concern.

"You know the train is dangerous on the best of days. No way to get off or go anywhere if something escalates. Not to mention, only gangs use the rail this late. You know better, why didn't you call me?" he chides softly, flinching at the way you hang your head at his tone. he hadn't meant for it to come out like that, he was just concerned for your safety.

"I didn't want to bother you," you sniffle back. "Not to come get me."

"It worries me more when you don't let me come get you. If you wanted company, I would have come to your place-"

"No." you say firmly, towel wrapped around your shoulders and voice firm. "Anywhere but there, anywhere else just not-" you cut yourself off, biting on your lip harshly. He turns you to face him, hands soft as they grip your shoulders.

"No what?" he asks softly. "Come on sweetheart, you gotta work with me here."

"It doesn't feel like home. It's not-" you begin to break into a sob again, and he sighs while rubbing your shoulders.

Home.

He knows how badly you want to go home to your old apartment. The one you had moved into the very first day you set foot into Bludhaven and poured your heart and soul into. The one that you shared with your elder brother, or had.

"I know. But you can't go back there sweetheart," he murmurs, thumbs running small circles over your skin. "It's an active crime scene, and it's unsafe-"

"It's home." you say weakly, hands coming up to wipe at your eyes. "I just want to go home, want to go to my bed in my room."

"You do have a room," he tries to soothe. "I made sure we found you somewhere nice and big, where you can take the master bedroom and have all the freedom to do what you want with decorating it, just like you always wanted."

He can't stand the way his voice sounds so condescending, as if throwing money at the problem as going to make the wound in your heart heal over. He knew it couldn't erase the horrors that you saw or fix the gaping hole in your life. He knew it wasn't going to bring your brother back, but he couldn't find the right words to take the pain away.

"What did you come here for?" he asks gently, crouching down in front of you so he can meet your gaze, heart clenching at the way you hang your head to hide your face. "I've got the spare bed made, or you can share mine. I'll even sleep in the spare room if you want it to yourself, you know I've got the best mattress." He tries to make a teasing remark, but it wavers with uncertainty.

"I…I was thinking." you murmur, hands beginning to quake. His eyebrows furrow, hands coming to grip yours.

"Thinking?" he inquires softly, not liking the ton of your voice.

"If I had been me instead." you hoarsely whisper, making panic flare through his chest.

"It's lucky it wasn't." he counters quickly. "This wasn't your fault, and it wouldn't have made anything better. You're here still, and that means you keep fighting." he stresses, thumbs tracing the back of your hand.

"It wasn’t lucky for him though," you say, voice trembling badly. "It was my fault it happened; it was all my fault. I'm the one who took the photographs of the deal and gave it to him, I'm the one who said he needed to stand up to other police on the force, I'm the one who said he should try to go against the corrupt ones. He took my advice, and it got him killed."

"Sweetheart, no." he tries to stop your rambling. "Listen-"

"It should have been me." you finally sob. "It should have been me, I don't know how I'm supposed to just keep going when all I want is to be with him again." you cry, breath coming out in chokes and eyes clenching shut. Your hands shake in his grip, trying to catch your breath in between sobs. "I want so badly to see him again." you manage to whisper out, voice tight. "I wanna follow, I just want to go."

Dick stands to his full height upon hearing that, pulling you tight. He buries his face in your hair, one arm coming around your back to press you firmly against him, the other on the back of your head. "Stop that." he says firmly. "We don't talk like that; we don't give into those thoughts." His voice comes out stern, but the sharpness of his words is dulled by the panic they're wrapped in.

"I... I know…" you choke out. "I’m... I’m confused Dick. I was convinced but then I got scared about it and I-I…" you trail off, breathing becoming quick and broken by hiccups. "I ran all the way here. I'm a coward, but in that moment, I just felt-"

"Scared." he finishes softly, hand softly petting your damp hair. "You were scared."

You nod against him, sniffling into his worn sleep shirt. "I don't know what to do. I don’t know where to go, where to turn." you whisper fearfully. Dick tightens his arms around you, senses dulling around him as he focuses on you. The sharp intakes of your breath, the erratic ticking of your pulse. "You stay here." he says softly. "With me. You tell me when you're having those thoughts, and I'll make them go away. You won't have to be scared, not when you're with me."

"And when you're not with me?" you ask quietly. He frowns at that, pulling back slightly to look at you.

"Sweetheart," he says adoringly, the faint traces of a warm smile gracing his lips. "Even if you can't see me, I'll always be with you."

Your eyes water more, and you let your head fall forward again. "When you have no one else to turn to, don't forget that you can turn back." he murmurs gently. "Because I'll always be behind you. Always, every step of the way." you say nothing back for a moment, but he holds you as you shake.

"Why?" you ask softly, hiccupping.

"Because I love you." he replies instantly, and you look up at him. Your eyes ware nearly swollen shut from the amount of crying you've been doing, and quite frankly, a mess. "I love you." he repeats. "So don't you dare try to leave, okay?" his own voice wavers, eyes clouding with a sheen of concern. More and more under his soothing you begin to relax, until you're barely standing by yourself. He guides you to bed, helping you change out of the wet clothes and into some of his freshly laundered ones before slipping you under the sheets. He gives you your favourite side of the bed before following suit.

As soon as your head hits the pillow you're out like a light, hand still gripping his softly. He adjusts so he's comfortable, not letting your hand go. With a soft sigh he stares at your worried and beaten form, the worry lines that have formed on your forehead and the bags that have developed under your eyes. You look exhausted, with faint tremors even as your breath evens and you fall deeper into sleep.

He can't even begin to comprehend the horrors that you had seen coming back from work that night, entering your apartment as usual only to walk in on a gruesome scene like that. he had seen it himself, as Nightwing. He had only seen the aftermath though, once the body had already been taken away. He never got to see the body, never saw the carnage that undoubtably the mob had left behind. What he had seen though was the blood splatters over the wall, and the array of household items that were being bagged for murder weapons. He had seen the message scrawled on the wall, crimson letters dripping with a warning. He had seen you, sitting with the paramedics as you stared off into the distance, eyes unseeing as they draped a shock blanket over your shoulders.

He moved himself closer to you, pulling you into him. He wasn’t going to let something like that happen to you, not if he could help it. he was Nightwing, if anything, he should have the power to stop these things. However, the fear that it would slip through his fingers plagued the back of his mind, the nightmare of you fading away like your brother bouncing around painfully inside his skull. He couldn't bear to lose you, not to the mob, not to yourself. He takes a deep breath to try and control his own emotions, careful not to wake you up. As he exhales through his nose, he lets himself relax slightly, gently snaking an arm over you for extra protection. He doubted he'd be sleeping very deeply tonight, but it was the price he was willing to pay to keep you safe.

He'd do it every night for the rest of his life if it meant keeping you by his side, keeping the flickering flame in your heart alive.

He'd keep his arms around you till eternity ended, just so you could know that even if you didn't think you had anyone, you would know you had him.

That is the thought that finally lets Dick flutter into sleep quietly himself, room filling with the sound of the rain outside and the quiet duet of even breaths.

[emotionalmessss]

hope you’re well ♥️ may i request a headcanon where yan!chrollo’s partner escaped but when he confronts them (or however you write it-it’s up to you!) they are really remorseful like “i knew i shouldn’t have left” on their own volition? thank you! ♥️

A/N: ouu, I really like this idea. I can never say no to Yan!Chrollo lol. I’d be more than happy to answer, and I’ll try my best! Thank you for the request, enjoy! :) (this ended up much longer than I expected)

Warnings: yandere themes, unhealthy/forced relationship, stalking, implied kidnapping, kinda implied non-con, psychological abuse, hardcore manipulation. chrollo is a dick.

Chrollo is no saint, but he definitely has the patience of one–though only to a certain extent. With you, however, he seems to have all the fucking patience in the world. Because of Chrollo’s emotionally complex nature, I kind of feel like it’s difficult for him to form emotional attachments, especially with those outside the Troupe. Connections have never really been a priority for Chrollo, nor do they come easily to him. But, with you, it’s different. You’ve always stood out, and his relationship with you is something that he treasures deeply. In his own twisted way.

Ever since Chrollo first laid eyes on you, he’s been utterly fascinated–a reaction that probably confused him at first, considering his interests usually only involve the wellbeing of the Troupe, books, and stealing valuable objects and Nen abilities. Chrollo has utilized all his available resources to gather as much information about you as possible, spending countless hours studying every single aspect of your life. Say goodbye to your privacy because there’s no such thing when it comes to Chrollo. And sure, a few members of the Troupe probably found Chrollo’s behavior unusual, but they knew better than to question the boss.

Chrollo might be completely infatuated with you, but he’s not blind to how difficult the situation is for you–he is well aware of human nature, and even more familiar with you. In fact, he completely understands your struggles. But, does that mean he’s going to let you go? Fuck no. As far as captors go, Chrollo has been incredibly lenient with you, hoping that you’d eventually realize that there is no one else in the world that could cherish you the way he does. And when you escaped from him, you betrayed that sliver of trust he gave you.

Your escape was successful, congrats. Managing to slip past Chrollo’s defenses was a challenge in itself–and you should be proud–not everyone can outsmart the head of the Spider. But, that’s just the beginning, don’t celebrate just yet. Surely, you’ll have to deal with a fuck load of complications, like starting your life over from scratch, fending for yourself, constantly watching your back, and maybe, just maybe, going as far as adopting a completely new identity. Things couldn’t get any more complicated, could they? Oh, they can and they will. 

It wouldn’t be long before you started to doubt and question everything–your thoughts, your feelings, your emotions, your choices, and most importantly, Chrollo. You might’ve thought you had the upper hand, but somehow, for some fucking reason, Chrollo always has the last laugh. Chrollo would never allow himself to show it, but he would definitely feel slightly irritated with the situation and your behavior. You actually had the audacity to run away from him? Have you forgotten who he is and what he's capable of? It’s not very often that someone would defy him, and part of him secretly applauds your pathetic–yet somewhat amusing–actions. Did you truly believe that he wouldn’t be able to find you again? 

I’d imagine that Chrollo probably saw your sudden absence as nothing more than a minor inconvenience. Annoying? Yes. Unexpected? No. Would he have expected you to be remorseful after escaping? Not entirely. Fortunately for him–and unfortunately for you–Chrollo knows you very fucking well. So well, in fact, that he’s become really good at predicting not only your next moves, but also what goes on in your head. He knew it wouldn’t take long for your mind to overwhelm you–that fresh start of yours isn’t feeling all that fresh anymore, is it? 

Chrollo wouldn’t go find you right away, no, he’d let you struggle for a bit before he made a move. The Troupe would probably question their boss’ somewhat unusual approach to the situation, but they wouldn’t push their luck–they knew better than to risk overstepping any boundaries, especially when it involves you and Chrollo. Just because his love for you is fucked up unconventional doesn’t mean he’s going to act impulsively to get you back, that's not how Chrollo operates, his methods are much more refined and efficient than that. 

But, that doesn’t mean Chrollo won’t be thinking of you. You’re always on his mind. He’d deny it, but the mental image of you–somewhere far away and stressed out, trying to move on with your life–was oddly satisfying. Some might say that’s cruel, but Chrollo sees it as conditioning. And Chrollo is a master manipulator. He may appear relatively passive on the outside, but you should never underestimate him. I feel like nothing is off-limits with Chrollo, and he’ll do anything and everything to make it impossible for you to leave him. Not just physically, but emotionally as well. So, it's really not much of a surprise that you’re remorseful about running away. That’s exactly what he planned. 

From the very beginning, Chrollo has been subtly manipulating and conditioning you, instilling doubt and dependency within you. He’d isolate you from the outside world and from the other people in your life, both physically and emotionally. He kept you by his side, never allowing you to stray too far. Even when you thought you were alone, he was watching. He gave you the illusion of freedom–a door that was occasionally left unlocked, access to his entire apartment, the opportunity to go outside, but only with him. He’d make you question the relationships you had with everyone that wasn’t him, slowly turning you against them. Do they actually care about you? Do they actually understand you like he does? Those were his ways of making sure there was nobody else you can interact with, forcing you to become dependent on him for everything.

Chrollo wouldn’t stop there. There were times when he would let his guard down, allowing you to see moments of vulnerability. He would tell you things–his past, his thoughts–enough to make you believe there was more to him than the monster you feared. When you eventually opened up to him about your own thoughts, he’d listen. He always listened so fucking carefully. He made you feel like he understood you better than anyone else ever had, or ever could.

And it all paid off in the end. For him, at least.

It’s almost been two months without Chrollo and surprisingly, it doesn’t feel as good as you thought it would. In fact, your newfound freedom feels fucking horrible. It doesn’t make sense–you should be thrilled that you’ve managed to escape after being held captive for one year. You had planned this escape for months, spending countless nights going over it again and again in your head until it was foolproof. It worked, yet you were far from satisfied.

Feeling more than a little conflicted about your state of mind, you move to sit on the couch in your living room. The old, faded piece of furniture creaks beneath your weight as you settle into the cushions. It felt cold and unfamiliar. The couch was probably older than you–faded, torn, and pilling–unlike the expensive plush one that Chrollo has. That one felt warm and familiar. Anxiously, you stir your half drank cup of coffee and take a sip, grimacing slightly. Even his fucking coffee was better than yours. 

This new life was supposed to be a fresh start, but instead, it was a constant reminder of everything you left behind. It seems that no matter how hard you try, you just can’t get Chrollo out of your mind. Every little sound–footsteps, doors opening–sent you into fight or flight mode, always on edge. It felt like you were living with a shadow that was slowly closing in, but you weren’t entirely sure if you wanted to run away from it. Fear, longing, and resentment were just a few of the emotions you’ve learned to cope with, but it never got any easier. 

Part of you missed the late night, deep conversations, the way he listened intently, as if your words were the most important thing in the world. Now, your nights are restless, haunted by constant nightmares involving a certain raven haired man. Maybe it's Stockholm syndrome? There’s no way to be sure–therapy costs money, and you aren’t exactly rolling in it. Your hands tremble as you place the mug down, spilling the dark liquid all over the side table. Still trapped in your mind, you get up from the shitty couch and head towards the kitchen, moving to grab a rag to clean up the equally shitty coffee. 

A small creak from behind catches your attention, making you pause momentarily to glance over your shoulder. Like countless other times, there's nothing there. Maybe you don’t even need a psych to diagnose you, since you’re already going insane. Sighing, you grab the rag and start walking back toward the living room. 

“A bit late for coffee, is it not?” The smooth sounding voice instantly makes you freeze in place, suddenly feeling overwhelmed with a rush of emotions. There’s a certain lightness in his tone that’s not usually present–it’s almost like he’s teasing yet chiding you. Either way, you weren’t going to concern yourself with the semantics.

It feels like your body has been completely paralyzed. Yet, somehow, you manage to summon the courage to slowly turn your gaze towards the source of the voice, finding it at the front entrance of your apartment. What you see is enough to make you feel faint, your head spinning and your stomach dropping like a stone–it’s Chrollo, looming in the doorway, his large eyes focused solely on you as a soft, enigmatic smile plays on his lips. Unconsciously, a whimper escapes your lips and your mind suddenly kicks into overdrive, frantically attempting to process the overwhelming reality of what’s happening. All those conflicting thoughts from moments ago flood back into your mind.

You find yourself caught in a whirlwind of emotions, torn between the relief of finally seeing him again and the chilling fear of what this unexpected encounter might bring. You had started a new life here, a life that was simpler, quieter, more peaceful. But as you stand there, facing Chrollo and the flood of memories he brings, you can't help but question–was it truly peace? You must’ve only been standing there–stuck in your thoughts–for a few minutes, but Chrollo seems to notice your dazed state and decides to speak up again, effectively snapping you back to reality. 

“May I come in? We have so much to discuss.” Chrollo says, his voice as gentle and as reassuring as you remember. Without waiting for your response, he's already stepping across the threshold and moving into your apartment, making his way toward the living room. His approach is calm and measured. It’s almost as if he’s been in your apartment a thousand times before, and as if he has all the time in the world. Rooted to the spot, your hand trembles as you clutch the damp rag, watching as Chrollo takes your previously occupied seat on the couch.

“Chrollo?” You find yourself whispering, your voice barely more than a shaky exhale, hesitant and filled with uncertainty. Saying his name after the silence of these past months feels strange, foreign, but oddly enough, you find yourself not hating it. Chrollo doesn’t immediately respond. Instead, his gaze remains fixed on you as he sinks deeper into the couch, leaning back casually and letting his hands rest on top of his thighs. The silence stretches on, lingering too long, and a part of you believes he’s doing it on purpose. 

“You seem troubled,” Chrollo observes, his dark eyes softening a fraction. “Come, sit. Let’s talk.” He insists softly, tilting his head toward the empty spot next to him on the couch, a silent command for you to join him. Despite his calm demeanor, it’s quite clear that he won’t take ‘no’ for an answer. He won’t deny it–your little escape was mildly infuriating. But he wasn’t entirely without compassion–at least, that’s what he liked to believe.

Your chest tightens painfully at his words, each breath feeling like a struggle, as if your lungs are refusing to expand. Your vision blurs as tears gather, threatening to spill over at any moment. You’ve reached your breaking point–the emotions you’ve been painstakingly avoiding have finally surfaced. The ache of remorse gnaws at you, a torrent of regret and guilt that you've been desperately trying to suppress. You open your mouth to respond–to say something, anything at all–but find yourself choking pitifully on a sob, no words coming out. 

The tears start to fall, pouring down your cheeks as you stumble blindly toward the couch, dropping the rag on the ground and barely registering the resigned sigh that Chrollo lets out. You plop down onto the couch next to Chrollo, feeling utterly pathetic about your current state. Not even a second later, Chrollo’s arm slips behind your back and wraps securely around your waist, pulling your trembling body toward his. You don’t fight it, instead allowing your face to bury into the comforting warmth of his chest, while his hand gently cradles the back of your head.

“I’m sorry,” you repeat over and over again, your voice cracking as you sob into his chest. 

Chrollo’s quiet again, the silence only broken by your sniffles and unsteady breaths. His fingers thread soothingly through your hair, softly shushing you. “You’re okay, I’m right here,” he reassures, his voice stripped of its usual firmness, now softer, gentler, almost tender. His expression remains unreadable as he looks down at you, his eyes revealing nothing of thoughts that are undoubtedly coursing through his mind right now. Internally, however, he feels a tinge of satisfaction upon hearing your apologetic pleas. Maybe things can go back to the way they were, or maybe they'll morph into something new, something better. 

There’s another pause, a moment where he lets you compose yourself. He doesn't mention your escape, or the remorse you've shown–not just yet. In truth, Chrollo is not the least bit surprised by your emotional spiral. He knows you well enough to understand that this is not merely a reaction to his relentless pursuit and eventual discovery of your whereabouts. No, this is an entirely different kind of response, one born out of internal conflict.

If it were any other man in this position, they might have felt guilty for putting you through so much torment. But Chrollo is not ‘any other man.’ Far from it. As he watches you break down in his arms, he doesn’t feel any guilt. He doesn’t see your suffering as something he should apologize for. Why would he? For Chrollo, he sees this as a necessary consequence of the bond he’s carefully created. And he can see that you’re finally starting to understand.

During your time together, Chrollo had a way of making you question everything. Slowly but surely, he instilled a sense of doubt and dependency within you. It was never obvious. That wasn’t his style. 

He had a way of making you believe that the outside world was cruel and dangerous. Every time he caught you looking at the door, he’d remind you–without even needing to say a word–that he was the only one who could truly protect you. A raised brow and slight tilt of his head was more than enough to remind you of everything he had told you before. He was never threatening about it, he didn’t need to be. A simple look from him was all it took for you to hesitate, to second-guess walking out that door. 

Would it really be better out there than here? Could you really handle Yorknew City? Surely, there were people out there much worse than him, right? People who wouldn’t think twice about taking advantage of someone like you. You could imagine it so vividly: faceless men with rough hands that wouldn’t give a shit about you, your struggles, or your pleas. They’d only see you as a pretty little thing to use. Chrollo never said it outright, but the implication was always there: he wasn’t like them. His touches, though somewhat unwelcome and borderline possessive, were never violent. 

At least with Chrollo, you knew the rules and boundaries–his rules and boundaries. And he never lied to you, not really. The world really was dangerous. There really were people out there who would hurt you. He made sure that you believed he was the best choice. And who else was there for you, really? Not your friends, the ones he slowly convinced you that they didn’t care as much as they claimed. Not your family, who couldn’t possibly understand the complexity of your situation. No, it was just Chrollo. He wasn’t the monster you wanted him to be. He was something far worse: he was everything you didn’t know you needed. And that was much more fucking terrifying.

Finally pulling himself from his thoughts, Chrollo decides that he’s made you suffer in silence for long enough. “You should not have tried to escape, [name],” he says, his voice gentle but carries a clear note of criticism and disappointment. He deliberately uses your name, refraining from the endearing nicknames he usually employs. It's a subtle punishment, a way to remind you of your mistakes. He knows exactly what kind of impact it has on you–how the distance it creates makes you feel small, like a reprimanded child. “Predictably, it didn’t end well.” His tone is soft, almost conversational.

Chrollo pauses again, his fingers suddenly halting their soothing rhythm in your hair. Abruptly, he withdraws the comforting contact, depriving you of the warmth you didn’t even realize you’d come to depend on. You can’t stop yourself from tensing in his arms, struggling to stifle a choked sob. You can’t see it–not with your teary face buried in his chest–but there’s a faint curl of his lips, a flicker of satisfaction at your reaction. The bastard knew exactly what he was doing. He lets out a deep, exaggerated sigh, his hand pulling away from your scalp completely. Now it rests on the frayed backrest of the couch, lazily tracing patterns on the rough fabric. 

“Running… it doesn’t suit you.” The words are so plain, so final. It's not suggestion or opinion, but a fucking fact. It’s the way he always spoke to you, as if he knew you better than you knew yourself. “It only leads you to pain and suffering. Surely, you’ve realized that by now?” There is no anger or frustration in his voice, just that same steady, disorientating calm that makes you second-guess everything. He speaks as if this entire situation is simply an inconvenience to him, which makes it near impossible to decipher his true thoughts and feelings. 

And then, Chrollo gently but firmly tilts your head up, leaving no room for you to resist him. Not like it would do you any good. Forcing you to meet his gaze, he studies you intently, his dark eyes partially shielded by the strands of raven hair that fall across his pale face. “You’re an intelligent woman,” he murmurs, and for some reason, it felt more like he was mocking you rather than giving you a genuine compliment. “I’m certain that you can grasp the situation.” As he speaks, his grip on your face tightens significantly, hinting at the threat that lies beneath his words. It’s his little way of telling you that you should know better.  

You wince as his fingers dig into the soft flesh of your jaw, more out of surprise than pain. The pressure isn’t unbearable, but it’s enough to remind you of his control. You don’t have much faith in your ability to form a coherent sentence right now, not when your throat feels tight and your thoughts are a jumbled mess. Instead, you nod in response, hoping it’s enough. 

Chrollo’s eyes flicker with approval, and maybe a hint of amusement. It’s impossible to be sure with him. He releases your jaw as he lets out a satisfied hum of acknowledgement, now wiping away a few stray tears from your damp cheeks. The gesture should feel comforting, but instead, it leaves you feeling hollow, like being soothed after a punishment you never deserved. “Good girl.” The praise rolls off his tongue easily, but there’s no warmth in it. “You’re emotional,” he says, almost to himself. “But you’ll understand in time.”

“It’s time to go home. We’ll continue this conversation later,” He adds, reminding you that this matter is far from resolved.

[worldlxvlys]

hiiii!!! so can I have a chubby ready or a plus size reader for matt?? it can be a smut or fluff. you can chose.

her

matt sturniolo x plus size! reader

warnings: smutttt, cursing, semi-public sex, p in v, unprotected sex, tittie fixation, oral + handjob (male receiving), slight overstimulation, lots of praise + fluff

a/n: i love youuuu <33

i do this every time.

i convince myself that it’ll end different, that maybe it will go well for me for once; but of course not.

how silly of me to think that something as simple as clothes shopping would be as easy for me as it is everyone else.

now here i was, standing in front of the mirror in the fitting room, comparing myself to the girl i saw on tiktok wearing the exact dress.

except, on her, it actually looked good.

don’t get me wrong, there are plenty of times where i love my body and i feel confident. this just wasn’t one of them.

because on her, it hugged every single curve on her body perfectly. the dress was damn near made for her.

it was silly of me, really, i set myself up for disappointment.

of course the dress looked perfect for her, i’m not her. usually, i’d just suck it up and look for different clothes.

but, how could one piece of clothing look so drastically different on two different people?

when i imagined myself in this dress, this is not what i had in mind.

but i guess i should just be grateful they even had it in my size, right ? when i first walked into the store, i wasn’t even sure they would.

plus size clothing is hard enough to find, especially in LA.

i shook my head lightly as i stared at myself in the reflection.

“what’s wrong ? you don’t like it?” matt asked, taking in my disappointed expression.

he moved to wrap his hands around my waist from behind, staring at my reflection in the mirror.

“it’s ok, i guess. it’s just…not what i envisioned it to look like on me” matt knew exactly what that meant without me having to say a word.

“was what you were picturing based on your body, or someone else’s?” i let out a sigh as i turned away from the mirror.

“look, i’m sure it looked good on her body type, but it looks amazing on yours” he gently cupped my jaw with his hand, moving it so my gaze was back on the mirror.

“why would you want it to look like it does on her when it looks breathtaking on you?” he asked, rubbing circles into my hips.

“you’re just saying that” i spoke lightly. he pushed his hips into mine suddenly, his hard dick poking my thigh eagerly.

“does that feel like i’m just saying it?” he rasped. “you look good, bet you’ll feel even better”

“matt” i let out a whine as his fingers ran up and down my thigh.

“what do you like about it?” he asked as he began to leave teasing kisses along the back of my neck.

i tried to focus on my breathing rather than his hand teasingly moving closer and closer to my core before retreating back down my leg.

“nothing to say? i’ll answer for you, then” he whispered into my ear, his hand disappearing under the dress.

“i like how it shows off these pretty thighs” he breathed, rubbing my thigh gently.

“i like how it covers your tits to everyone else, but when i wanna see them, all i have to do is…” he trailed off before untying the front of the dress, watching as it loosened and my tits fell free.

“so fucking gorgeous” he mumbled to himself, gently caressing my boobs.

“i like how it’s the perfect length, such easy access” he whispered the last part to himself, finding the waistband of my panties and pulling them down.

“i don’t know if it’s the dress i like so much as that fucking body” he spoke, turning me around to look at me.

“i love every inch of you” he spoke as he sat me down on the small bench.

he pulled down his pants and boxers, his dick springing free while i watched in anticipation.

the sounds of my soft moans filled the dressing room as matt pushed himself into me slowly.

his forehead was pressed to mine while he stared into my eyes with a look that made my heart race.

i let out a particularly loud moan when he began to thrust into me deeper, his cock kissing my cervix.

“you gotta stay quiet for me, baby. don’t want anyone hearing, do you ?” he asked as he continued to thrust into me slowly.

i covered my mouth with my hand, shaking my head as i tried desperately to contain my moans.

“feels so- god, you feel so good. you’re so good for me, my perfect girl” he groaned as he held leaned his hands on the bench on either sides of my thighs.

“you have no clue how fucking beautiful you are to me….how much you mean to me” he spoke before moving his face towards my chest.

“gonna show you” he whispered before bringing my nipple into his mouth.

“hmph, matt” my moans were muffled by my hand, my free hand finding its way to his head.

my head fell back into the wall behind me as matt swirled his tongue around my nipple, licking and teasing the sensitive bud.

when he finished, my boob had dark marks on it, staying attached to his mouth by a string of spit.

“god, i love your tits” he mumbled before getting to work on the other one.

his tongue worked my nipple while he continued to thrust sharply and deeply into me.

i tugged on his hair harshly, eliciting a moan from him while he looked up at me, watching me fall apart under him.

“matt i’m so close” i moaned out rather loudly, causing him to pull away from my boob.

he brought his lips to mine, swallowing my moans as our lips danced across each others.

i wrapped my legs around his hips, pulling him as close to me as possible as our lips molded together.

“look so pretty like this, my love. so good for me, could fuck you like this all day” he whispered against my lips.

my eyes squeezed shut when he reached between us to rub my clit, my jaw falling slack.

“matt-” “i know” he cut me off, feeling me clench around him, “come on, give it to me baby. i got you” he whispered as i cried out.

my legs shook around him, hands squeezing his biceps as i released all over him.

my body continued to shake lightly, the aftershocks hitting me every now and then as matt continued to thrust into me.

“can i-” he cut himself off with a guttural groan, “will you let me cum on your tits? please?” he asked me through his grunts.

my face lit up at that, “yes please” i answered. he grinned at that, pulling out as soon as i agreed.

i took his length into my hand, pumping him quickly and watching his face contort in pleasure. “fuck, you’re so good to me” he breathed out.

“you deserve it” i told him “you close? gonna cover me in your cum?” i asked him, his cock twitching at the statement.

“yea, fuck yes”

i stroked him a few more times before thick spurts of his cum flew out of his tip, dripping down my chest.

“yes, yes, yes, yes" he chanted, his voice breaking slightly.

i continued to pump him, watching his seed flow out of his tip, before he pulled my hand away.

“s-sensitive baby” he groaned out, knees beginning to buckle slightly.

“gotta clean you up, right ?” i asked before bringing his tip into my mouth, his hand automatically flying to cover his own.

his eyes rolled to the back of his head as i licked him slowly and gently, collecting every drop of his pleasure and swallowing it.

i removed him from my mouth with a pop, smiling in satisfaction at his fucked-out state.

i brought my hand to my tits, wiping him off of me and licking my hand.

“you trying to kill me?” he asked, mouth hung slightly.

“there are no paper towels” i shrugged at him.

he lightly shook his head, a small smile overtaking his features while he helped me to fix myself up.

i helped him do the same, before picking up the dress.

“so ? are we buying it?” he asked, eyes filled with hope. i smiled at him lightly, “hm, yeah, i think so” i answered.

his smile grew wider at that, “good, because that won’t be the last time i fuck you in that dress” he whispered into my ear.

“well, in that case, i might have to wear it again today”

🧡🧡🧡🧡

masterlist

tag list: @lustfulslxt @flowerxbunnie @sturnssx @mattslolita @its-jennarose @sophssturn @bernardsleftbootycheek @queen161718 @cupidsword @imwetforyourmom @nickmillersn1gf @mattsneezing @chrisstankyleg @sturniolobltch @bethsturn @bernardenjoyer @mbbsgf @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @ssturniolo @blueeyedbesson @mxqdii @sturniolowhore @readerakayourname @defnotayonna @urmom2bitch @rootbeerworshiper @starsturniolo @hearts4chriss @theyluv-meee @carolinalikesthings @itzdarling @chrisstopherfilmed @judespoision @sstvrnioloo @littlebookworm803 @nicksdrpepper @chrisloyalgf @robins-scoop @fandomhopped @chr1sgirl4life @bbglmfao @55sturn @sturniolololover @meg-sturniolo @yamamasjumpercables @vanteguccir @ineedchriscock @junnniiieee07 @breeloveschris @luverboychris

[hannieehaee]

sorry to hear you’ve been feeling unwell, I hope you’re starting to feel much better and congrats on the milestone!!

I’d love to request a fic where both junhui and oc are on separate work trips, missing eachother not being able to talk much, arrive home separately on the same day and have the most super intense and passionate fucking EVER bc they missed each other ever so much :’))))

thank you thank you for your beautiful writing!!

18+ / mdi

content: bf!jun, softdom!jun, afab reader, smut, reunion sex, penetrative sex, dry humping, etc.

wc: 1734

a/n: thank u so much for ur concern im feeling way better now c: and thanks for requesting!! i hope u enjoy<3

masterlist

"okay, so you're getting home at 5, right? please tell me there's been no change of plans, fuck, i'll go crazy if-"

"jun! yes! i'm getting home at 5. nothing has changed. i'll see you today at 5, okay, babe? stop overthinking it," you reassured your boyfriend before he could go on yet another rant about how badly he missed you.

throughout the past three weeks, you and your boyfriend had had a bit of trouble aligning your schedules. he had left on a work trip about twenty days ago all while you left on your own trip two weeks after that. having returned home a few days ago, he was bummed to realize that he'd be coming back to an empty home as you finished up your own work.

finally, after far too many days away from one another, your schedules aligned. after three grueling weeks in separation, your return was set for today, with a ride already booked to bring you home at around five in the afternoon. jun had only been home alone for two days, but he had been itching to see you for far too long already.

it was uncommon for the two of you to spend so much time away from each other. work trips were not usual for either of your work schedules, so such a sudden and prolonged separation had thrown you completely off guard.

jun had taken the brunt of it, constantly spamming you with texts and calls detailing how much he missed you – and which parts of you he missed the most.

your boyfriend was not shy to express his desire for you even through the distance. although he missed the softer and less explicit parts of your presence, he was a little extra vocal about the carnal ways in which he yearned for you these past few weeks. calling you for phone sex became a common occurrence only a few days into your separation, as jun would call you every other day with his dick already in hand.

every single one of these calls would be accompanied by hints at all the things he would do to you the moment you were back together, leading you to becoming just as pent up as jun clearly was.

unsure, yet excited for what was to come when you finally arrived home, you prepared yourself the best you could to finally be dicked down by your boyfriend. you were practically vibrating with anticipation by now.

"okay, fuck, sorry," he apologized, "i'm just so excited to see you."

"i know, baby. me too," you reassured.

"don't even knock when you get here. i'll leave the door open. just run to the bedroom. i don't think i'll be able to waste even one second without touching you," he rambled on, completely serious too.

you chuckled, "okay, junnie. i'll be ready for you to tackle me with your dick."

"you think it's a joke, but i will!"

~

"baby? are you in the room? i'm hom- hmph!"

despite the lighthearted discussion you'd had about your return, you assumed jun had been exaggerating a bit. you expected a soft welcome accompanied by a hug and maybe a kiss before being ultimately led to bed to get the dick you'd been thirsting after for weeks. jun had different plans, though.

the moment you walked in, jun jumped you, running out of the room and meeting you as you'd barely crossed the door to your apartment. interrupting your inquiries for his location, he locked your lips in a kiss, forcing your bag off your shoulder with rushed hands and walking back into your room as he held onto your hips for guidance.

there were no thoughts in your head as you followed along, kissing him back just as passionately as he did you, putting everything in the kiss; everything you'd been holding back these past weeks. in a similar fashion, jun moaned and groaned into your lips, gaining pleasure from the mere contact with you.

clearly pent up and with a heightened sense of need for you, he continued to whimper and moan as he felt you up, hands liberal in their touches of your ass and tits.

"missed you so much, fuck. feel so soft ... so pretty and good for me," he breathed out as his lips trailed down your neck.

his hands went straight to your clothing, attempting to rip it off after a mere five minutes of kissing, quickly becoming frustrated by the lack of skin to skin contact.

"need to get this shit off you. been thinking about your body for weeks," he huffed, throwing off your shirt and clipping off your bra, "seeing it through a screen isnt enough."

he was a mess as he took off your clothes, but eventually got the job done, pushing you lightly onto the bee before doing quick work of his own clothes as he stared down at your bare body with a look in his eyes that could only be described as immense desire.

"junnie, hurry the fuck up!", you rushed him despite how accelerated he already was. you couldnt help yourself when he looked so good as he stripped down for you. his eyes only gave you indication of how good you were about to be fucked – how could you resist in riling him up a bit more?

huffing again, he basically toppled you over, making you lay flat against the bed as he climbed over you. immediately reconnecting your lips, he began to aggressively make out with you once more, hands groping at every inch they could reach. both your hips were uncontrollable, messily humping into each other in search of some sort of friction.

"baby, need you so fucking bad," he breathed against your lips, "gonna fuck you so good. been thinking about it every night," he mumbled into your skin as his lips trailed down your neck, leaving a trail of red marks and saliva behind.

"then fuck me already," you whined with grabby hands digging into his back, pulling his hips against your own by your legs.

with a rush, he reached into the bedside table, hands bumping into the table a few times before finally making it to the drawer and pulling out a long line of condoms.

"oh? you have a big night planned?", you snickered at the sight.

"shut up," he rolled his eyes with a laugh, getting up to rip off the condom and put it on.

in the meantime, you flipped yourself over, getting on all fours and arching your back for him with the knowledge of how pent up and desperate he was. the sight was usually able to flip a switch in his mind, making him lose all composure and fuck you senseless. today was no different.

upon realizing your change in position, he groaned deep in his chest, rushing to press himself up against you and grabbing harshly onto your hips to push them up into his cock. with no further warning, he eased his way into you, slow in his entrance but accelerating the moment you nodded back at him to give him the green light to begin moving.

with an inhuman speed, jun fucked into you almost animalistically, completely losing sight of himself and babbling nonsensical praise to your cunt while embedding himself into the pleasure. his fingers dug deep into your hips, surely leaving marks that he'd have to kiss later.

forcing your back into an even deeper arch, jun began dragging your hips back and forth into his cock, coordinating the rhythm of his own rocking of his hips. despite the mindless way in which he harshly fucked into you, he let out the most pathetic whimpers at the feeling of your cunt wrapping around him. faring no better than him, your own cries accompanied his own in filling up the otherwise silent room.

"missed this cunt so badly ... you have no idea how much," he grunted breathlessly, "t-tell me you've missed me too," he practically pleaded afterwards.

"missed you, junhui, so much ..."

"tell me how much," he demanded, hips never ceased in slapping against your ass.

"s-so much. missed you so fucking much, junhui," you cried out when his hips accelerated even more, making your eyes roll back at the aggressive yet finessed manner he fucked into you.

"missed you more," he let out in a huff, "gonna show you all night. gonna make you cum again and again til you're begging me to stop," he reassured in slurred words, clearly almost at the point of losing himself to his high.

"'m gonna cum, junie, please ... cum with me," you begged, needing to make him delirious with pleasure in the same way he did you.

with tears in your eyes, your orgasm reached you, making you hiccup moans and cries of jun's name while he continued to fuck into you.

"so fucking good for me, shit. got so t-tight, oh fuck- g-gonna cum, shit."

his orgasm was not far from yours, catching him off guard due to the pulsing of your cunt during your own high. somehow he managed to become even more desperate in the canting of his hips, making you cry out in sensitivity but prevail throughout it as the impact was too pleasurable for you to actually want to push him away.

almost falling against you, he leaned into you as he caught his breath. meanwhile, you were a shell of your former self, completely spent under him and attempting to regain your own breath.

in just a few moments, jun began silently kissing up and down your back before pulling out and ridding himself of the condom, immediately going back to loving on you with his lips and massaging at your hips tenderly with his hands.

wordlessly, he helped you lay down on your stomach as he wrapped around you, continuing to kiss and rub at your sore form before finally speaking up.

"i really missed you," he began with a murmur, "was that too much?"

"no, junnie. i missed you too much to not let you fuck me like an animal," you chuckled after recovering your ability to speak.

"good, cause i'm planning on using that whole pack of condoms," he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

your body might not make it til the next day, but reuniting with your boyfriend and his endless stamina made it worth it.

[mountainsandmayhem]

Taste Her, Little Dove (18+)

Joel Miller x f!reader x female

Summary: Joel encourages you to indulge in your curiosities towards women.  CW: girl on girl (Happy International Women’s Day), oral (f!receiving), fingering, dirty talk, pet names (little dove, baby etc.), sub/domme dynamics, sort of voyeurism on Joel's part, male masturbation, lots of orgasms, one night stand AN: practice safe sex!! This is unprotected sex, be better than my writing! STI’s may be less likely in lesbian hookups but please use dental dams or gloves with a partner that you don’t know. Stay safe! Dividers by @saradika-graphics WC 3.6k

More Little Dove Here

You sit at the kitchen table, phone open in one hand reading an article, fresh morning coffee in the other. “What’s it like to go down on a girl?”

Joel almost chokes on his coffee, folding the corner of his newspaper down and looking at you over his reading glasses. 

“Jesus, babe. It’s 8 am!” His hair is tousled with sleep, still wearing just his boxers and a white t-shirt. 

“Didn’t realize 8 am was prude hour,” you joke. Cupping your hot coffee in both hands and inhaling the steam. 

“It’s just not what I thought was going to come out of your mouth.” He says with a laugh, putting the paper down and placing his glasses on top of it. “You never cease to amaze me, my love.”

“Well, I adopted Ellie in my second year of college, the first year I was too busy with classes. I didn’t get those wild college years. You know?” 

The sounds of the morning birds chirping merrily fills the kitchen for a moment while Joel looks at you. 

“Alright. I fucking love it. It’s powerful watching you fall apart as I lick you.” He smirks a little, a dimple forming in his cheek before he sips his coffee. 

“So the same way I feel when I give you a blow job?” You shrug. 

“I guess. I don’t know, the female anatomy is a lot more complex, but finding that right combination of licking and sucking, along with fingers. It’s like…” he trails off, thinking for a moment, “like a game of chess. Every time I go down on you it’s different. Sometimes you like the tip of my tongue to flick roughly, other times you like gentle kitten licks and lots of kisses. I almost have to read you and figure out the best way to win the game.” 

“Huh,” you suddenly feel a little insecure, he’s doing all that work and you - “I just do the same thing every time. Am I doing it wrong?”

“No babes,” he laughs, reaching across and taking your hand in his. His thumb caresses the smooth skin along the top of your hand. “Dicks are pretty easy. Grip them and move up and down. You are amazing at blow jobs.” 

He smiles at you and your gaze falls back to your phone. He picks up his glasses and paper and goes back to reading. After a few minutes, you break the silence. 

“How would you feel about me going down on a woman?” 

His eyes light up as he takes you in, he bites his cheek to stop the shit eating grin he can feel forming. “Go on….”

“I’m curious. I’ve never been with a woman.” 

“Ok,” he folds the paper up again. “Are you doing this for you? Is this something YOU want?” 

“Yes,” you say confidently. 

“Ok. So are you asking for a threesome? Because if I’m being honest, I don’t think I want to be with another woman.” 

“No! Oh god,” you try to stop your voice from sounding horrified, “I don’t want to see you with anyone.”

You’re quiet for a second before adding, “You know what, nevermind. I don’t like this.” 

“What baby?” He asks encouragingly. 

“I feel selfish. I’m going to ask you to let me indulge in my curiosities when there’s nothing in it for you but to watch. I’d want you there.” 

“Hey,” he stands and walks to your side of the table. He stops behind you, wrapping his strong arms around you and rests his chin on your shoulder. “You’re not being selfish. I don’t want to be with anyone else but I sure as fuck would watch you play with another woman.”

Finding a woman was surprisingly easy. After taking Joel’s advice, you put on a little red dress and the two of you headed to a bar near your house. Joel went in first and sat at a booth near the back, ordering himself a whiskey. After touching up your lipstick and fluffing your hair in the rearview mirror you strutted into that bar like you owned the place. Heels clicked on the floor as you walked over to the bar and ordered a martini. You sat there, eyes flicking around at the patrons, trying to make yourself look approachable. 

A gorgeous long-haired brunette woman was sitting across from you with an almost empty drink. This was your chance, you call the bartender over and ask him to send her a drink. As he walked over to her the music in the room seemed louder, and butterflies started to flutter around your stomach. But she took the drink and then came to sit with you. 

She agreed to let Joel sit in the wingback chair in the corner of your room. “I’m not interested though, lover boy. So you can watch but hands off.” 

Joel smirked at her, “Feelings mutual. I’m only interested in my Little Dove.” 

Now that the three of you are in your bedroom, you’re not as confident. She’s completely naked, you just a bra and panties, and Joel sitting in the dark corner, ankle resting on his knee. 

“Give me a colour, Little Dove.” 

“Green,” you say shakily, hands hanging by your sides and eyes dancing around the naked woman in front of you. She steps forward, linking her fingers with yours. You lean into her touch, the tip of your nose tracing down the bridge of hers. 

“Can I take your bra and panties off?” She whispers. You hear Joel stifle a groan, which encourages you to keep going. 

“Yes please,” your hands trail up her arms as she reaches behind you to unclasp your bra. The cool air pebbles your nipples as the garment falls to the floor.  Her soft lips find your neck, kissing towards the dip on your collarbone, her thumbs hooking into the waistband of your lacy panties. 

“Don’t stop,” you whimper, hands sliding into her long hair, guiding her to your aching nipples. Her tongue flicks over one as she gets to her knees, panties slipping down along your thighs as she goes. You use her shoulder to balance you as you step out of your thong. 

“You’re so wet for me,” she hums, kissing up your thighs to your hip bones. You won’t survive if both she and Joel start talking, and that’s further solidified when Joel’s deep voice adds, “Good girl, Little Dove” from the corner of the room. 

Your body shutters as she stands, sucking a peaked nipple into her mouth. She sucks and licks, the other hand teasing your slit. Your head falls back and you gasp at the feeling of her. Being with a woman is so different from being with Joel. She’s soft, her hands are like silk as they move across you. 

“Get on the bed,” you moan. You swear you hear Joel’s breath become heavier as he watches you. When you glance towards him he’s in the same position, chin resting between his thumb and forefinger, elbow perched on the arm of the chair. He shoots you a wink before you climb into bed. She’s on her back, legs open for you and can’t help but lick your lips at the sight of her puffy pink pussy. She’s glistening for you and you swell with pride at how you made her like that. 

Laying on top of her you start kissing her lips and grind your hips into hers. She moans into your mouth, hands grabbing your ass. “I wanna lick your pussy,” she says between kisses, “please.” 

You already know she likes to be in control, it was part of your conversation at the bar and with Joel. The two of you roll in tandem, sheets tugging around you before she throws them off. A groaned ‘holy fuck’ floats across the room. Joel is loving this more than the two of you. 

She settles herself between your thighs, her warm breath hitting your clit, causing it to twitch. She stares up at you as you writhe underneath her, your eyes clamped shut. “Look at me,” she says, voice husky. 

You peel your eyes open, they flick to Joel and then settle on her. The bedside lamp casts warm lighting across her face. She’s truly quite beautiful and you can’t help but notice the similarities between her and Joel. Deep brown hair, and warm amber-coloured eyes, she licks her plush lips before teasing your clit with the tip of her tongue. Pleasure courses through your body and your hips buck forward involuntarily. 

“Sssh,” she hushes you gently, and one of her forearms comes to rest across your pelvis. “Do you like that?” 

“Y-yes,” you coo, “again. Please.” 

“Mmmm,” she hums, teasing you again before adding, “such good manners.” 

Little sparks fizzle across your whole body at her gentle caresses. So different from when Joel devours you. Her arm is slender and soft against your belly, no facial hair to tickle your inner thighs. You moan her name, hands tangling in the sheets as that ache builds. 

“You gonna cum for her, Little Dove?” Joel’s voice is deep and thick with arousal. Your eyes flick back to him, he looks dangerous sitting in the dark like you’re the prey, which is exactly how you like it when it comes to Joel. The tongue between your legs stops and you cry out at the loss, “No, please.” 

She’s quickly up to be inline with you, one hand gripping your face under your chin, squeezing your cheeks slightly. You moan, yes being the prey is exactly how you like it. 

“Don’t look at him. You’re mine,” she kisses you hard before pulling back and adding, “Do you understand?” 

Joel's heavy breathing fills your ears and you can’t help but look at him. “Tsk, tsk,” she taunts and then turns to Joel. 

“I think she needs to be taught a lesson. Is that ok with you?” 

They’re wholly focused on each other, almost as if you aren’t even in the room. “My Little Dove will never learn,” he says, “what do you have in mind?” 

She glances back at you with a mischievous grin, “Come sit behind her and hold her down.” 

Joel stands, adjusting himself in his jeans as he walks over. The bed dips under his weight, he props a few pillows against the headboard before hooking his arms under you and pulling you flush against his chest. His hard cock throbbing against your lower back. 

She laughs at you, “can’t see him now. Can you?” 

You shake your head. “Answer your mistress, Little Dove,” Joel whispers in your ear in quiet demands. 

“N-no mistress,” you whisper. 

“That’s better,” she says, nails tickling your inner thighs. “Open your legs, he’s going to hold you open for me and I’m not stopping until you beg.” 

You swallow hard, Joel’s cock jumps before he reaches for your legs, strong hands wrapping around the back of your thighs, pulling them towards your chest and encouraging you to open more. She dives in with much more hunger this time, lapping at your clit. 

You throw your head back to rest on Joel’s shoulder. “Oh fuuuck, don’t stop.” 

She doesn’t listen, stopping abruptly and laying a quick slap on your inner thigh. Joel hisses in your ear and your eyes widen in shock and arousal. “Watch your mouth,” she says in a dark, commanding tone that you didn’t think a sweet looking woman like her was capable of. 

“Sorry, mistress.” The heat from her slap travels up your thigh to your pussy and it clenches around nothing. “Felt s’good,” you whine. 

“No swearing,” two of her fingers tease your entrance. “Good girls don’t say words like fuck,” her fingers slide into you and you bite your lip hard to stop from swearing and yelling and moaning. 

“Say yes mistress,” she taunts, curling her fingers forward. 

Joel’s strong arms hold you down, you’re completely at her mercy. “Ye - oh god - y-y-yes mistress.” 

“Do you wanna cum, baby?” Joel whispers as she continues teasing you, bringing the tip of her tongue to tickle your clit again. 

“Mmm-hmm,” you moan, turning your head to nuzzle into Joel’s neck. And your body tenses up into his grip. 

“Ask her nicely,” he says. 

“Mistress, fuuu-, can I cum?” It comes out in a high-pitched moan, you’re clenching so hard to not cum, teetering right on the edge. 

“Only if you scream my name while you do it,” she says in her demanding tone, working her fingers inside you faster. 

Joel’s thumbs rub little circles on your legs and after you relax into him you release. Pinned by Joel the orgasm runs through you hard and fast, and it’s over too soon, but she keeps going. That familiar tingle builds quickly again and before you’ve caught your breath you cum again, screaming her name over and over as you cum on her hand and mouth. 

She sucks your clit into her mouth. Stars start to light up in your vision, muscles start to hurt from how badly you’re shaking. As you start to cum again it all starts to feel like too much. “Stop. Stop. Please!” You beg. 

She releases your clit with a pop and slows her fingers. “Look at me sweet girl,” she coos. She smiles at you gently when you make eye contact, it's almost like looking at a completely different person from the woman who slapped your inner thigh just minutes ago, “Do you actually want me to stop.” 

“Yes, sorry. But yes.” You say, gasping for breath. 

She slides her fingers out and Joel releases your legs. They whisper to one another and Joel slides himself out from behind you and heads back to his chair. She pulls you into her arms, head resting on her soft breasts. No wonder Joel likes to cuddle up to you like this, it’s warm and inviting. You can hear her heart beating softly as she plays with your hair with one hand. The other draws little circles up and down the arm you’ve draped across her. 

It’s silent for a while before you start to giggle. 

“What’s so funny, Little Dove?” Joel’s voice is light. He’s used to this part when you come down from the high and have a feeling of comfort and elation. It might be his favourite part, especially now that he’s seeing it happening from the outside. Your cheeks are pink, and your hair is disheveled, but there’s a big happy grin on your face. 

“Fuck. That was….” You trail off, looking up into her brown eyes. “Well, that was amazing.” 

“Good,” she cranes her neck to kiss you lightly. 

“Umm, can I?” You ask, hand trailing down her body and stopping just above the slit of her pussy. You pout out your bottom lip at her, eyes turned soft and pleading. 

“Christ, lover boy.” She says to Joel but doesn’t break eye contact with you, “How do you ever say no to this sweet girl?” 

Joel chuckles from the corner. “I don’t.” 

You take her sly smile as a silent yes and climb on top of her, taking one of her nipples in your mouth, swirling your tongue around it while you use your knee to nudge her legs apart. Kneeling between her parted thighs you kiss across her chest to her other nipple, cupping her breast in your hands and massaging them gently. 

Hearing her little moans leave her lips is intoxicating. When Joel moans it’s usually deep and from his chest, but she’s so pliant to you right now, sweet, little high-pitched whimpers leaving her parted lips. 

You kiss down her body, gently nipping at her hip bone, a small squeak of surprise fills the room. You kiss the sore spot gently and settle yourself between her legs. Now that you’re this close to her pussy you are almost unsure of yourself. You swallow the lump building in your throat. Joel can see you hesitating. 

“Taste her, Little Dove,” he whispers. “Just place a long lick from the bottom to the top. Go slowly.” 

You place your tongue flat near the entrance and slowly slide your tongue up. She tastes amazing. Sweet with a hint of saltiness, she gasps and twitches as you hit certain spots. 

“Did you feel that, baby?” Joel asks. 

You nod your head and repeat the same lick, mapping out the spots that drive her wild. Once you have them figured out Joel speaks up again, “Good girl. Use the tip of your tongue and put more pressure on those spots. Swirl your tongue around them. Figure out what makes her twitch.” 

“Fuck this is so hot,” she whimpers as you follow Joel’s instructions. 

You swirl your tongue around her hardening clit, before lapping up the fresh wave of her arousal, moaning at the taste of her. She’s shifting underneath you, one of her hands tangling in your hair. 

“Tease her with your fingers, Little Dove. Slide one in, just a little while you lick her.” 

“Yesyesyes” she chants, breaths coming in quickly. The way her breasts rise and fall causes a throb in between your legs. You thought you were orgasmed out but she looks incredible. You slide your middle finger in, stopping at the first knuckle, curling it forward. She cries out, you aren’t ready for her to cum yet so you pull your tongue away and place little kisses around her mound, carefully avoiding the sensitive spots as you explore her more with your finger. 

“You’re so tight. Do you want me to use two?” You ask, sliding your finger in all the way. If you were Joel, you’d never want to be anywhere else than in between your legs. He was right, this is a feeling that can’t be described. There’s an almost overwhelming sense of power once you’ve figured out what they like and have relaxed enough to enjoy it. 

“Please. Oh god - yes please.” She’s almost mumbling the words between moans and when you slide your ring finger in with the middle her legs start to shake. 

“You gonna cum?” You ask, kitten licking at her clit. 

“Don’t stop,” she whines. You curl your fingers again hearing the squelching of how wet you’ve made her and then suck her hard little clit into your mouth. She calls your name out to the room, “Yes yes. Just like that. Fuuuuuck.” 

You can feel her cunt tightening around your fingers. “Stay at the pace, Little Dove. You’re doing so well.” Joel’s voice seems thicker and you wonder if he’s touching himself, but you keep your focus on her. She looks like a goddess in the dim lighting of the room, head thrown back and mouth open, calling out your name through her moans. You feel the wetness between your thighs growing. 

“I’m gonna cum,” she cries before you feel her pussy spasm around your fingers. You keep your pace the same, curling your fingers forward and tracing the edges of her pulsing clit. You’ll go until she says to stop, even if your jaw is starting to cramp. You feel drunk watching her, this is so much better than you could have imagined. 

“Ride me,” she says, squirming out of your grasp. She straightens one leg and you crawl up, straddling yourself around her raised leg, hooking her knee in your arm across your body. The wetness between the two of you is magical, sliding your clits against each other. 

You can see Joel now, he shifts in the chair as he removes his jeans, freeing his cock from his boxers. He spits in his palm and starts to stroke himself in time with the two of you. 

“Does that feel good?” She asks, bringing your eyes back to her. 

You nod, biting your bottom lip as the tension behind your belly button starts to build. You grind your hips in slow circles as she moves back and forth, both of you growing wetter. 

“God your pussy feels so good against mine,” you moan between her gasps. “You’re making such a mess.” 

She wraps her hands around your hips and pushes you down onto her hard, grinding into you faster as both of you start to breathe heavier. “Don’t fuck stop,” she whines. 

“So needy. This little pussy,” you say. You’re not entirely sure what’s come over you, Joel’s ragged breaths from his chair fill you with encouragement, he loves hearing you talk dirty to her. “Wanna cum all over your tight cunt.” 

You hear Joel’s breathing jump, glancing over to see him spilling into his hand. The tension in your stomach snaps, and you look back at her as the two of you cum together, grinding sloppily. The sounds of your wet pussy’s rubbing together and your moans and squeals are the only thing you can hear. 

You both ride it out together, you feel like you’ve been cumming for hours by the time it slows. Both of you calming your movements. You kiss her kneecap before falling to the bed beside her, the two of you gasping for breath. Joel sits quietly, smiling over at you. 

“Fuck,” she says after a few minutes of silence. “Are you sure you aren’t a lesbian?” 

You and Joel both laugh. “I think it’s safe to say that my Little Dove is bisexual.” 

You giggle to the ceiling and then look towards her, “I think it’s safe to say that I’m only straight for Joel Miller.” 

Taglist:

@corazondebeskar @hiddenbabynyc @rainstorms-library @smutsmutslut @sullyrocky44 @keylimebeag  @pimosworld @casa-boiardi @pedritoferg @paleidiot @lorilane33 @pansexual-potatoes @baar-ur @jessthebaker @jasminedragoon @koshkaj-blog @pedroswife69 @strawberri-blonde  @none-of-this-makes-any-sense @iloveenya @javierpena-inatacvest @wannab-urs

[helluvapoison]

How do you think Adam x reader x Lute(poly) work work out? Because I don’t think Adam would mind having a poly relationship if it’s with Lute because they trust each other, but I wonder how it would even go down to begin with

Adam x Reader x Lute

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

• Honestly? It could go either way starting with Adam and you or Adam and Lute. He’s a greedy bastard, one lover isn’t enough for him! He’s owed it actually! Considering you know who stole his first two wives

• (This is a lie. Deep, deep— seriously however deep your thinking, it’s deeper— down he doesn’t feel like he deserves any)

• Regardless, Lute doesn’t care for you. She tolerates you for Adam’s sake but the difference in how she treats you both is enormous. He can get away with murder— literally! Where you can’t make a smoothie without doing it wrong

• In a way Lute sees all her sisters as potential, future competitors. She rivaled with Vaggie over Adam’s attention until she finally had it all for herself. Who’s to say that won’t happen again? That she won’t be the one to be tossed aside next time? Then you came along and made her fear so much more plausible. So you’re no different than them

• Except you were

• When Adam asked you to bring food, you never failed to ask what Lute wanted. You set three plates during date night or made reservations for three. You bought a third controller for Adam’s game that she never wanted to play in case she changed her mind

• When Adam knocked both of you out of bed in his sleep, twice, you sat up with a smile aimed right at Lute. Flaring, she was ready for you to banish her to the couch. You didn’t. You joked that you three would need an even bigger mattress. In the darkness of night she saw you in a new light, gently illuminated by the stars peaking in through the window

• Adam was fucking ecstatic to see you both having coffee that morning, throwing his arms around your necks, “Fucking finally! Aww, look at my two hotties getting along!”

• Lute didn’t open up overnight but immediately her treatment of you took off. Turns out she did have manners and used them in a much kinder, more genuine tone instead of sarcastically and only when Adam told her to. She praised you for little things even you didn’t notice, walked you to and from wherever you needed to go. So this is what it was like to be on her good side?

• Adam calls you two Double Trouble when you “bitch” at him

• You’re better at shrugging off his retorts

“You love us.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’d love you more if you didn’t nag me,” He mumbles

Lute’s head snaps in his direction, “What was that?”

“I said yeah, I love you! Fuck, get off my dick already.”

[brucewaynehater101]

I’d love to see more of the Emotional Marks AU. I want to see the reveal and the Bats having the realization that just because they’re doing better /now/, it doesn’t fix the damage they did before. And that they can’t force things to heal. Healing takes time.

Post being mentioned is here

What I'm curious about is if it's a human only thing or if others (like Kyrptonians, Martians, Atlanteans, etc.) also get marks.

Anyways, here's some more stuff I thought of. As always, take as little or as much as you'd like of it ^^

Tim never takes off the object hiding his marks, even for himself. It's part habit and part desperation to never see how much his loved ones have actually hurt him.

He's unique in that he isn't sure where most of his marks come from. People usually see the marks within 24 hours of their appearance. Tim has gone years between seeing his own marked skin.

As I've stated before, the object works like glamor. Therefore, those with enough magic power would be able to see past it. This is part of why Tim wanted pants for the Robin uniform (any magicians working with Robin would see the moment they saw any of Tim's bare skin). Tim is very lucky the marks on his face only appeared a bit before he became Red Robin (and part of his reason for the cowl).

Marks typically stay away from the face. They only appear there if symbolically significant or if the marks are running out of space elsewhere on the body. Bart and Kon dying really did a number on Tim even though it wasn't their fault.

YJ and Dick have helped soothe some of the marks left behind by the Drakes (and Bruce too if you want good dad Bruce). Quite a bit have even fully disappeared due to them.

Tim still collected them like Halloween candy, though.

Major marks and their placement [though feel free to offer different ideas]:

Bruce calling Tim "Jason" - x on the back of neck

16th birthday - Major gash on right temple hidden by hair

Janet dying - splintering cracks along hand (bigger version of the one Janet fakes)

Jack coma then death - line in left calf then up to mid back of thigh

Bart dying - right side from under armpit to end of ribs gash

Kon dying - giant oval over sternum

Jason's TT attack - left foot/ankle cracks

Damian's attacks - stomach area

Losing Robin - largest slash diagonal across back (left shoulder to right hip)

There's more marks, but the ones on his face are caused by people not believing in him [this is not a "they should have" argument. It would have hurt regardless of what they should have done]

Hmm... So, the reveal? I'm thinking a magician. This would be after Tim switches back to just a mask and no cowl. His face marks would be on display for magicians but no one else. He, wrongly, assumed he'd be fine.

He's playing nice with the Bats at this point, even if he doesn't fully trust them. He loves them and wants to keep the peace. He'd never voluntarily show them his marks or tell them about it.

The Bats are being nicer under the idea that their assumptions about markless were incorrect. It weirds Tim out and usually has him ghosting them for a few days if they try to initiate feeling conversations with him. He kind of wishes they would just go back to normal.

It's a few months of this behavior before some magician makes a remark about Tim's facial marks. Something along the lines of, "You okay, Red? You're aware of how dangerous it is for marks to progress as far as the face, right?"

Cause what happens when there's no more room for marks? Drastic decrease in physical health. Could lead to death.

The Bats overhear and promptly freak the fuck out again.

Tim, who has been dealing with their bullshit for the last few months and doesn't want to deal with the confrontation, disappears. He's waiting for them to process their shit before returning [he loves them but does not want to be caught in that fucking whirlwind. Bats notoriously do not handle emotions well]