#I know damn well where would I end up driving to

[emoisthenewemu]

Make The Neighbor's Know My Name - ERWIN SMITH x F! READER SMUT

MDNI 18+

What happens when your hot, (divorced) older neighbor just can't help himself?

wc: 5.5k (sorry!)

cw: SMUT, porn w plot, Modern!AU, age gap, mentions of shitty fathers, DADDY KINK (again, sorry i just know he has one), cursing, p in v, oral on both ends, squirting, general nastiness, breeding kink lol

a/n: wow had sm fun writing this. also this may be tmi scroll if u dont care but shoutout to the dude who made me s****t for the first time i was reminded ab you when writing this, hes a whole dad now lifes crazy

˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚

Erwin Smith is an established man. He has a nice house and a good job-one where he got his hands dirty and worked his way up for years before becoming the boss. He works out on a weekly basis, eats (somewhat) healthy and can (again somewhat) cook. He is clean and well kept, educated and respected in his community. Kids love him, so do dogs and the elderly. With a politeness often associated with much different times and a beautiful, piercing set of blue eyes, he is damn dear perfect. On all accounts-a wonderful man.

So, it puzzles many that he lives in such a nice four bedroom all alone. It was not always like this; he used to be married. Had a sweet little housewife that got to stay home and do what she pleased. But it seems that freedom got to her head, overzealous with how much she could get away with-unfortunately it did not take many years of marriage to understand that it was never going to work. All it took was Erwin working a few months of overtime to push her into the arms of another man, one she claimed would give her more attention than he ever did. Perhaps he had neglected her a bit, let his job take over his life for a while. But it was all for her! So, they could have even more stability and possibly even become ready to start a family.

Nowadays he thanks God they never had a child together. And after the dull ache that was getting cheated on, the divorce, the court process that ensued afterward-the man was convinced that he was better off alone. He could accept that truth. There was no need to go chasing a feeling he had already experienced.

But that is not to say that he does not get any action. He is a man after all and they have needs, he surely does. He is no stranger to going out and chatting up nice women, taking them out on a few dates and making them feel special only to break it off when things get serious. It's a pattern at this point. His friends (employees) tell him he should drop the good guy act and just fuck shamelessly. Skip the formalities and go straight to the good part. Just be honest, it is arguably better than whatever the hell he is doing.

He considers it for about a week, even thinks about downloading an app so the opportunity is always there at his convenience. He knows he is a good-looking man who has much to offer, the matches will certainly come in.

That was until he becomes distracted by you. A cute little twenty something that moves directly across the street from him. He watched from both the windows of his home to the security camera which conveniently already faces your house. You had a few other younger girls helping you, two guys and neither seemed to be your boyfriend so that was a plus. And when he left to go get drinks, truck keys in hand-acting like he was not staring directly at you behind the shade of sunglasses you were bold enough to be the one to utter the first word.

It was after a few giggles of your girlfriends, who were also checking him out, but he was more focused on you. Hoping it would indeed be you that was moving in. "Hi neighbor!"

One of the girls slaps you lightly, mostly surprised you were actually bold enough to call out to the hot dilf across the street that's probably married. But he waves and says hello back before stepping into the large truck and driving off. They laugh as you stand there for a while, the wheels in your head turning.

You've always had a thing for older guys.

You soon come to learn he is not a dilf but the sentiment is there. It begs to argue the question, does a man really need to have a child to be a dilf? It may be in the title, but you see it more as a state of mind. And you also learn that he is divorced, he lives alone actually. Except for the golden retriever you often see accompanying him on runs.

You can thank the nosy old lady that lives next door for all of this top-secret information. It reminds you to accept her invites inside for tea often, you feel like you've met the whole neighborhood thanks to her gossip.

For the first month and a half your interactions with the man are mostly basic. Friendly 'hello's' and small little waves before the two of you leave for work in the mornings.

The first time you have an actual conversation is when you are bold enough to knock on his front door one Sunday morning. You know he is awake because he has already gone for his morning run. The sight of your new sexy neighbor all sweaty in his compression top and gym shorts has now become a part of your weekend routine. You wouldn't miss it for anything.

His hair is wet from the shower he just finished, still slightly dripping onto the thin material of his shirt. You swallow hard, trying to not get lost in the sea of muscle staring straight at you. You look up at him. He is more than twice your size.

You want to climb him like a tree.

"H-hi Mr. Smith so sorry to bother! I heard you own a construction company and well-I have this stupid door coming off the hinges! And I'd do it myself, but I suck at stuff like that! And I'd hate to hire someone to come all the way out here for something so small" You are visibly nervous, fidgeting and playing with your hands as you find it hard to maintain eye contact. He is just so fucking hot you cannot trust yourself to not gawk at the sight of him. "Of course, I'd pay you too!"

You are so cute and helpless. A fucking door hinge? Surely you have at least one friend who could help out with something like that. But as you soon come to learn, Erwin Smith will never say no to you. "Nonsense, no need to pay me. I'm always free to help a neighbor out. Let me go grab my tools"

So, he does and follows you across the street. He definitely does not check out your ass in those tiny little shorts that lift up a bit when you walk. In your defense-it's your day off, you deserve to be comfy!

Your house is exactly what he expected it to be, cute and tidy. It smells nice and everything is so girly. Pink and creme colored decorations scattered about, shiny hardwood floors that he can tell you recently cleaned. Perhaps it was in preparation of him coming over. Of course, the door just happens to be the closet door in your bedroom, with all of your cute little clothes as you sit on your cute little bed and watch.

Fuck, for some unknown reason the man finds it hard to focus. Even as you make small talk, his mind is elsewhere. Stuck on the sweet smell of you, the way you sit looking so pure and innocent-legs dangling over the edge of the bed as you watch him, head curiously cocked to the side.

He feels like a pervert for imagining what you must do in that bed. How beautiful you must look in the mornings when you wake up feeling lazy, stuck between the sheets. Do you cuddle up with the singular fluffy stuffed animal at night? Do you take it off the bed before you fuck someone, or does it stay up there? Even more, how many men have you fucked in that bed?

He forces himself to snap out of it, silently scolding himself for being so crass. This is not very neighborly of him. You would likely be disgusted by his vulgar thoughts. Or maybe you would like it, you don't do much to hide the way you stare at him. Even before this day, it was quite obvious that you had a little crush on him.

Yet as the older, more mature adult in the situation he tells himself that he must not entertain the idea. He is eighteen years older than you. Children have been born and graduated high school in that amount of time. It's downright wrong and these intrusive thoughts need to be put to an end.

It was easier said than done, especially when he catches a glimpse of your pink lacy panties thrown about the closet. He thinks about the underwear for the remainder of his day, if he were a less respectable man, he would have pocketed the pair and took the home. But he would never, he only imagines he did.

Two days later you show up to his doorstep, with a nice homemade lasagna and the sweetest smile on your face to thank him. It is you that he wishes to devour instead. He even invites you inside to talk for a bit but keeps things fairly short. He considers opening up a bottle of wine but talks himself out of it. Remember, he promised himself he would not entertain the idea of you. Although it may be too late because he fucks his fist to the thought of you every night for the remainder of the week.

And one early morning at work, before any of his men have been sent out on jobs a few of them congregate around his desk. Engaging in small talk as they usually do, telling stories of girlfriends, wives, how drunk they go the other night, cars-the usual guy stuff.

"Boss! How're the apps treating you?! You get any action?" Eren, one of his younger employees cannot help but ask seeing as he was the one to suggest in the first place.

"For real! You haven't said shit since we made you download it" Connie walks in, hardhat in hand as the other one holds the phone his crazy girlfriend is currently blowing up. He ignores the calls and shoves it into his back pocket. "Don't hold out on us man I tell you everything!"

"I'm aware" Erwin cocks a rather judgmental eyebrow-there are many stories which would have been better off unheard. Things he would much rather forget.

And then he thinks of you-the only woman which has plagued his thoughts for close to two months now. He sighs, contemplating if it worth bringing up. His heart drops as the realization dawns on him that you are practically the same age as the two young men before him-younger actually. "Shit" He sighs, running a hand through his hair. "There is...a woman. Not from an app, my neighbor actually"

"Ohhh your neighbor! So, you get to hit and just walk right back home?" Connie laughs and the man cannot help but roll his eyes. These two are definitely the wrong people to be discussing this with.

"We haven't done anything; I just find her attractive is all. Probably not the smartest idea to fool around with someone I run in to almost every day anyways"

"Why not? Saves you money and gas" Eren argues. "She live alone too?"

Erwin sighs because he has neglected to mention the most important detail. "Yes, she lives alone, apparently she inherited the house from her aunt"

"All I hear is a lonely lady who needs some company" Connie shrugs, taking a sip of his coffee. "What's stopping you?"

"She's quite young"

Eren and Connie could not be more excited that their usually reserved boss is opening up to them for once. After all of the talking they have done, it is his turn to ask for advice. "Erwin Smith you smooth motherfucker" The shorter man teases. "How young?"

"Last year of college young"

The men all but gasp, smiling excitedly as this is the juiciest piece of information they've heard in ages. They never would have expected it from a man who (with all respect) has a constant stick up his ass. "Younger than us?"

"......yes" He sighs ashamedly as the men whoop and holler. Rolling his eyes as they dap each other up as if they are the ones about to get laid.

"You better do it boss! Chicks these days are crazy. We can thank your generation for being such shitty fathers" He should expect such ignorant comments from someone like Jaeger, a guy who has been stringing his girl best friend along since childhood.

"Forget I even said anything" Smith stands up, grabbing a clipboard and few other necessities for the job site he will soon be off to. But he should know the two young men would persist.

"I say do it boss!" Eren encourages, pumping a fist into the air. "Do it! Do it!"

"Do it! Do it!" Connie joins in on the chanting, they follow the man out his office-ignoring the stares of their fellow colleagues. That is until their boss scolds them to get the hell to work. So, they do, retreating back to their trucks as Erwin stands in place in thought for a while.

They have given him much to think about.

He ponders the conversation for days afterwards. Every time he looks at you, when you have those short little conversations that keep his day going. Perhaps it would not be so bad, he hopes you aren't looking for anything serious. Or maybe he does, his mind remains undecided. It would not be so bad having a pretty young thing like you on his arm. But he is getting ahead of himself.

He talks to you more, striking up longer conversations whenever he gets the chance. You are very polite; he finds it sweet the way you cross your ankles and tuck your hands behind yourself whenever the two of you speak-almost as if you were nervous. For some reason, it makes him want you even more.

After weeks of much of the same behavior he decides he has had enough. It's not so bad, it's not like he knew you before you were an adult or anything. You are a grown woman who pays bills and provides for herself-you have your own house for Christ's sake! He needs to stop babying you, looking at you as if you are just some lost little girl. You have needs of your own. Needs he is more than certain he can meet. So, he invites you inside for drinks one Friday evening, you do not think about it for even a second before agreeing.

Sending a text to your girls about how you are finally going to fuck the hot man from across street, you shut off your phone. You want absolutely zero distractions during your visit, a plan of your own is in the works.

You drink his fancy wine and watch a movie on the couch, carefully maintaining a bit of distance between the two of you. You almost forgot how nervous he makes you, perhaps the liquid courage is what you need to get your act right.

"Come closer" He pats the spot beside him, and you hesitantly follow his orders, setting down the wine glass and closing the gap between the two of you. Your thighs are touching, hands awkwardly stuck on either side of you, the pace of your heartbeat quickens when the man slides an arm down and around your waist. "What's the matter? Am I making you uncomfortable?" He has to make sure before things go any further. Your stiff body language is telling him that perhaps he should slow down.

"Oh no! Never!" You shake your head, trying to ease into his touch. But you are still afraid to touch him yourself. "It's just......you're a bit intimidating"

He exhales a puff of air through his nose, clearly amused by your words. Brushing a piece of hair behind your ear, he speaks again. "Oh darling, I don't mean to be. What can I do to make you feel better?"

His deep voice sends shivers down your spine, it sends shivers somewhere else too. "I-I don't know" You laugh. "You're just so big and..... established. Have no idea what you're doing sitting here with a girl like me"

"Oh, don't say that" He turns his body a bit to face you better, arm still stuck in its place around you. He places the other hand on your knee, you remain painfully aware of its place. "I'm the one who should be questioning how I got such a pretty little thing sitting on my couch" You giggle, it makes him twitch in his pants. "I'm the lucky one here"

His hand slides up to your thigh, massaging the fat in a way that makes you burn with desire. A heat builds deep within you. "T-touch me please"

Oh, your sugary voice is driving him crazy; he had no idea he would be this into something like this, someone like you. He pulls you into his lap, hands dragging up and down either side of your body as he takes all of you in. He lets out a long sigh, hips shifting beneath you as his cock begins to harden at the feeling of your burning skin. He hooks his thumb beneath your shirt, looking up at you. "May I?"

You nod almost frantically before he pulls the fabric over your head. Facing a baby pink, lacy bralette-he is unable to stop the groan from leaving his lips. He kisses the uncaged skin beneath your breaths, inadvertently taking a deep breath in to get more of your syrupy scent. "You wear this for me?" He questions.

You nod shyly, trying to hide your face but he pulls it closer to look at him. A hand guides you to fill in the space between your faces, foreheads pressing together but he does not kiss you. Not yet anyways, he wants to tease you a bit first. "Use your words"

"Y-yes I wore it for you daddy" It was a shot in the dark, most men his age are into shit like that.

He groans again. Fuck. Eren was right, thanks to all the shitty fathers out there, yours included.

You laugh, finally gaining that bit of confidence you need to keep the teasing going. "Wanna see what else I put on for you?"

"Show me darling" His eyes follow your hand which goes down to unbutton your shorts, unzipping them a bit before hooking your thumb to pull them forward-giving him perfect sight of the cute little bow which sits atop your panties. The same pair he spotted in your closet all those months ago. If he wasn't hard before then he definitely was now, nearly bursting at the seams of his pants. And he chuckles, twitching in anticipation as your body rocks with his. "You planned this, didn't you? Dirty girl"

"Mhm" You laugh, hand running down his chest, you let your nails dig into the fabric of his shirt a bit. You are desperate to feel even more of him. "Did I do a good job?"

"So good princess" He confirms, kissing your chest again. "Let's go upstairs"

You agree, making sure to grab your shirt that you clutch to your chest, painfully aware of the fact you are the only one without a shirt on. But your worries are soon dissolved because Erwin sheds his own shirt the second the two of you reach his room, you sit on his large bed, taking him in all his glory. Your mouth practically waters at the sight of nothing but muscle and evidence of years of hard work, the dirty blonde happy trail you wish to see the end of.

He walks up to you, standing at the edge of the bed and you look up to him. You are eye level with the tent of his pants. He brings a hand to gently caress your face, words are not necessary to know what he wants. You're so sweet and obedient that you go to fumble with the zipper of his pants almost immediately. And when he springs out you have to stop your eyes from widening at the sheer size of him. You almost feel afraid again but you don't want him to know that-you seem naive enough already. You'd like to surprise him a bit.

You kiss the girthy tip as if it were his lips, sticking out your tongue to flick over the slit. You press an exaggerated closed mouth kiss to the tip before taking more of him in your mouth. He groans, throwing back his head as you make your way down inch-by-inch. When you reach the base you swallow, throat tightening around him as he looks down to watch you-mouth agape.

Your wide eyes look up at him gleefully, if you could smile you would. The wait for him was sooo worth it-you think as he looks down at you in what seems to be pure amazement. Brows scrunching as he groans as you choke on his length. A mess of saliva and tears as you bob your head up and down, you can feel when his tip makes it past a certain place in your throat, growing conscious of how deep he is reaching.

It hurts but you can't find it in yourself to stop, he looks so good. An absolute mess as his manly groans make you want to play with your pussy. But instead, you take it a step further, you need this man to remember you, to crave you for years afterwards just in case this never happens again. Although you hope it does. You wrap both arms around his thighs, bringing him deeper as he begins to fuck your mouth.

Erwin, who has stayed relatively quiet since then becomes a mess. "Ohh fuck-fuck! So good, gonna fuck this tight little throat.... good girl, good girl"

You moan at his nasty words, sounds of gagging and wet slaps play like a symphony. Until he pulls back once he realizes he was about to blow a massive load down your throat. No, he wants to save it.

He pulls out, strings of spit dripping from his cock as you gasp for air, wiping away the tears from your eyes and mess of liquid around your mouth. "Mmm" You moan. "Was it good daddy?"

"So good darling" He rubs his thumb over your now swollen lips. "You're doing such a good job for me"

He leans down to kiss you, finally. Fervently grabbing at your hair and hips as he makes his way onto the bed. You scoot back, lips never leaving his as he goes to pull off your shorts. Tongues pressing together in-sync, he stops for a moment to suck on yours-eliciting a small whimper from you. Your nails trace up and down his arms, lost in the feeling of his lips. You could stay this way for hours.

But he obviously would like to keep things going, pulling down your shorts all the way before going down to kiss you through the thin fabric. He makes out with your pussy through the lace, stopping to suckle and blow tiny bubbles on your throbbing clit.

"Fuck!" You squeal, bucking your hips into his face as he continues the teasing. His tongue going up and down, creating an even larger wet spot that takes up most of the area. "Pleeease daddy"

"No, you can wait" He scolds, going to kiss your thighs softly. "Be patient. I'd like to take my time with you, get you ready for my cock"

"Mhm" You nod yet your hips buckle up again. "S-sorry"

"It's okay princess" He coos, finally pulling your panties down completely. When he licks a stripe up your pussy you all but scream.

"Mmm yesss!"

He kisses your clit, sucking it before swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud. Your hips try to fuck his face, he lets it happen, diving deeper and deeper into your pussy. He sticks his tongue out and shakes his head side to side, moaning at the way you cry out-so receptive to his touch.

He moves down to fuck you with his tongue, you bump your clit against his nose, mouth open and eyes rolled to the back of your head in a pure state of bliss. You tug at his hair roughly, using it to guide you against him, so desperate for more. Your mind clouds with pleasure, mouth forming into an 'o' shape as your hips begin to stutter, breath catching in your throat. And when he pulls back to spit! on your pussy, not once or twice, but three times you think you have died and gone to heaven.  With the addition of his fingers, and focusing the attention back to your clit, it is not long after that your release washes over you.

You exclaim out loud as your back arches off the bed, softly buckling down onto his tongue as he laps up all of your essence.

The both of you are panting as he comes back up to meet your lips. Tongue assaulting yours as you taste nothing but yourself on his tongue. That's the way it should be-you think. His painfully hard length presses into your stomach, you look down to see how deep it might go inside of you, but you look back up again when you start to feel scared of the stretch. You trust him, that is all that matters.

And before he can even ask if you want him to put a condom on or not, you grab his cock, sliding it down your folds and circling it around your clit. "Want you inside now daddy"

And who is he to ever say no to you? Seconds later he is pressing himself inside of you, thankful that he prepared you for it beforehand because it doesn't take very long for him to bottom out. "Ohh shit" He groans, pulling all the way out them slamming back in. "Fuck...you're so tight"

Your walls squeeze around him even more at his words, arms settling around his broad shoulders as you fight the urge to let your hips run away. He notices the way you pull back; he won't allow it. Bringing your bodies flush against one another, he rests his forehead on your shoulder, strong arms pulling you down onto him. You cry at the pressure, the way he is stabbing at you from inside, so deep you feel it might go out into your tummy. You squeal again, legs crossing over his back. "Erwin! Mmm, no no no, it hurts"

A stray tear falls from your eye, yet your hips begin to seek out his as you grow more accustomed to the stretch. "F-fuck" Your stomach begins to flutter.

"Oh shh shhh darling it's okay" He sounds so gentle, the complete opposite of the mean snap of his hips. "You want me to stop?" Another powerful thrust makes you let out a noise closer to a scream.

"No daddy please don't stop" You begin to claw at his back as he sets himself a pace, loud sounds of clapping begin to fill the room.

Your pussy is choking him, so slippery and needy. It sucks him in with each thrust, a 'slush' noise every time he pulls himself out. "So wet" The man gasps at the sight of all your juices splattered about. He needs to see more.

Pushing your knees into your chest and angling his hips a bit higher, he begins to drill into you at an unrelenting pace. A mix of saccharine moans fill the room, the sound of his headboard slamming against the wall. "Oh, oh oh! Erwin! Mmmm!" You sound so perfect, the sound of you moaning his name alone is enough to make him want to cum.

"Feels sooo good" Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he plows into you in a way that feels mechanical. In a way you have never felt before. He is so experienced, he knows all the right buttons to push, places to touch you and kiss. You are so mind numbingly stuck in a state of bliss that you almost feel lost. Like you could never crave another man after sleeping with him.

"Guys your age ever treat you like this?" He questions, now forcing your legs together with one arm and picking your hips up off the bed. Continuing his assault on your sweet little pussy that has made him go fucking stupid. He usually maintains a sense of composure when sleeping with new women, he knows what he enjoys may not be everyone's cup of tea but you, well you are the most perfect little slut he has ever met. "They fuck you this good?"

"No Erwin!" You cry out, gripping the sheets as he continues slamming into you. "You're the best! Fuck, Erwin! It's tooo much, feels weird"

Your hips twitch, he knows very well what this means. Oh, he needs it, he needs you to squirt all over him or else he will not be satisfied. "Erwin! Erwin!"

"Yeah, keep talking princess, make all the neighbors know my name, huh?" He goes down to toy with your clit, your hips attempt to squirm away. But the arm wrapped around your thighs ensure you stay in place. He pinches your clit, tip pushing against your g spot in a way that makes it hard to speak.

"Nonono, think I'm gonna pee" You shake your head frantically, trying to grab his arms and free yourself of his grip. But he will not allow it.

"Just let go" He orders, hair now sticking to his head as he shakes it back and forth. "Squirt all over daddy princess, I'll clean it up"

You finally reach your breaking point, breath so caught in your throat that your moan is almost silent, too high pitched to even be registered. Your hips and thighs are shaking, stomach quivering and you can feel your heartbeat in your pussy as he does not relent with his thrusts-close to a release of his own. When you squirt all over him, he whines stuck on the juices gushing out of you. His eyes squeeze shut as the image replays over and over again in his head, finally dropping your body back down to the mattress as he is almost where he needs to be. "Such a messy pussy" He moans into your skin, your body lays limp as you try to do something as simple as breathe.

It is hard when he snatches every little gasp out of you. But you can feel him twitching inside you, thrusts grow sloppy as you grab at his hair, your sensitive pussy being pushed to her brink. "Please please cum inside daddy. Fuckkk I need it! Wanna keep it inside all night and remember how good you made me feel"

Your dirty words are enough to push him over the edge, spilling into you and splaying your womb with his seed. Fuck, his dick belongs inside of you. So does his cum, he wants to do this every day when he comes home from work. In the mornings before he even gets out of bed. At night when before he goes to sleep. He wants you stuffed with him at all times. His cum spills out of you as he finally pulls out, dripping down your thighs.

He looks up at you with a mischievous look on his eyes. It feels unnatural to see such a composed man come undone, the way he eats you up with his eyes.

And you are staring at him like he is the most handsome man on the planet, well he kind of is. To you at least. You chuckle, you're in danger, never has a man made you feel this good before. He made you squirt the first time sleeping with you. Fuck, you're dickmatized.

"We should have done this a long time ago" He collapses into your chest, kissing whatever skin is available softy. He will clean you up in a bit, for now he needs to rest.

"Yes, we should have" You play with his hair before kissing the top of his head, making yourself quite comfortable in his sheets. You could get used to this.

And used to it, you become. Erwin is now a daily part of your routine, the same as sleeping and eating. Getting creampied by Erwin Smith was now the highlight of most of your days but it was not all purely physical. He took you out a few times, you even met a few of his coworkers one night over drinks. You spend the night at each other's houses and begin to go on morning runs together.

You suppose you should not be surprised when you end up pregnant several months later. Knocked up by your sexy older neighbor that you now consider to be your boyfriend. He even suggests the two of you get married, but you agree to wait for the baby to come along to see if that changes anything in your relationship.

Now, because of you, he will live up to his true potential as a dilf.

[socksual-innuendos]

I've always said that Raul's quest endings seem a bit misplaced/misdirected and I feel like it's time I finally get around to explaining why.

So, in reality, I think given Raul's backstory and the situation we find him in, the retirement ending doesn't make sense to me. Accept you're an old man and leave the gun slinging to the new generation....maybe, for someone who's actually long hauled fighting and not done scraps only when emotions ran high.

Raul makes cracks about being an old, grumpy man, and while we know ghoulification slows aging/he ghouled when he was in his 30s, "being old" seems like a red herring for his real conflict; isolation.

Raul isolates himself like crazy. We see this in his shack, his town wandering, the outskirts of communities, his "Old Miguel" persona. Even his sees-you-as-Her obsession with Claudia screams outside looking in. He craves community in some fashion and he denies himself it for several reasons. And honestly, denies might he too strong of a word here. The man has 2 charisma, he very well might not know how to integrate into a post apocalyptic society.

I say keep Raul's Ghost Vaquero end as one option, one that reinforces this outsider burden he holds fast to but gives him a new purpose as a ghoul in the post apocalypse, and the other end is where he ends up part of a community, realizing that even if his home and family have gone that there are ways to rebuild with others. More so, either toss retirement out the window completely or make it the neutral ending when the courier aquires him as a companion but doesn't complete his quest.

I still do like the idea of him seeming to think himself too old for things, but he should also self limit when being talked into a "potential" retirement end. Raul doesnt know what he wants yet, he's a pre war man who suddenly had expectations, tradition, and family knocked out of him in several large mushroom clouds.

Retirement sounds Correct for a man his age, even though the proper thing to do at his age is to be a century past dead. But he doesn't feel like he's of retiring time. His knees creak, and his back hurts, and this shit started before he ghouled because he was a man in his 30s who worked on his family's ranch since being knee-high and despite physically feeling like he could keep going, emotionally he has no where to put it.

There is this misplaced sense of self Raul has, where he was very likely not even the spare to his family's ranch (which, I will reiterate again. His family is well off to be running a horse ranch) but he had some inherent place in society via his relationships with other people. He grew up with enough privilege and social guidelines to get by with 2 charisma (assuming this wasn't skill degradation post-war). This would need to be rehauled not only after the bombs dropped, but once societies started reforming in the post apocalypse.

Anyway, I think Raul's two endings best fit him as

Ghost Vaquero, the vengeful spirit of Hidalgo Ranch. This is to work in such a way that it almost strip him of his current identity, taking on all the baggage of his loss and forming it into a driving force for bounty hunting. Actual justice results may vary.

Old Mechanics End. Raul allows himself to settle into a community proper, allows himself to aquaint and even befriend people, and occupationally becomes their mechanic/trade mentor with a bit of gun slinging as needed for town defense.

Which my last addition to this (i am ranting now) is that it seems hilarious to me that being multifaceted with mechanics and being quick with a gun was suddenly placed in an either or scenario. Raul is a boon to have in any community. Man can shoot and man can repair, literally perfect. It makes sense his vanilla retirement end doesnt allow him gunslinging because you basically damn him to depression routine but get him some SSRIs and a knitting circle and he can have his wrench and gun cake and eat it too.

Anyway thanks for coming to my Ghoul Talk, AMA about my boy

[nutelloona]

some nights I really wish my front door wasn't so fucking loud to open/close bc as much as I feel trapped and suffocated in my room on night like these, - and in my house in general, tiny apartments and all that crap that capitalism keeps blessing us with - dealing with questions or concern from my siblings is one of the most unbearable consequences I can picture

[elliee3e]

imagine being logan’s controversially young girlfriend. like, controversially as in 19-early twenties… ugh i’m screaming MMMM

and nobody knows.

content warnings ;

size kink, age play, slight humiliation kink, praise kink, dirty talk, unprotected piv, teasing, brief mention of thigh riding, spit play also not proof read i got lazy !!! sorryyyyyyy😭

nobody knows how you show up to his room late at night in just a little nightdress, when the x-mansion’s quiet — filled only with the soft snores of students slipping out from their room… nobody knows how he’ll open the door for you and you two will be at it crazy.

he’ll take you into his bed — let you cozy up into his big arms until you’re squirming into his lap because you just can’t handle the size difference between you two.

and you were just making it so damn hard to stay rational for logan. every shift, every breath against his skin was making him want you more and more: and sometimes he’d give in, sometimes the guilt would eat at him.

“you’re a goddamn kid, baby. you don’t know what you want, let alone need.” he’d grumble, hand squeezing your soft hips again as he thought to himself that you should be with someone your age. not some old and broken man. and you were pouting at him, reminding him that you were well over the age of a ‘kid’. that small pout of yours that he thought was adorable, that soft, pretty pout, now was going to be the end of him.

“doll, you gotta just understand you’re too young for me. you need—“ he was cut off suddenly by that small body of yours against his thigh, your hips against the thick muscle, driving his mind wild. he exhaled a low groan deep in his throat, his hand gripping your waist on instinct. and this is where he knew he’d lost it.

that single roll of your hips against his thigh made him grip you tighter, his hand on your soft waist holding you down on his lap. He was trying to control himself, trying to think but you were making it damn hard when you were grinding against him like that. “jesus, darlin’..” he’d groan, voice deep and husky. “careful, don’t wanna hurt ya..”

and it was ironic, how he was worried about hurting you right now. because if he’s already that concerned with just you grinding innocently on his thigh, imagine how worried he’d be when you ride him.

as soon as your small thighs were spread on either side of his thick ones, his hands would move down to hold them — gently lifting you up so you could hover just slightly above his aching length, before slowly letting you slide down to take it.

he’d feel you trembling from the big stretch: you were just so small and delicate — and he always felt like he was definitely going to break you. he’d murmur soft little things like: “c’mon baby.. i’ve got ya, got ya right on me— that’s it.. mhm..” into your ear, big roughed up hands running through your soft pretty hair gently; tucking the loose strands behind your ear, watching your face in pleasure.

he’d keep at it like that, just letting you move your hips against him for your pleasure — milking it out of him. until he’d notice your moans turning into little whines, your eyes rolling back and fluttering shut. he knew he’d found that sweet spot when he heard you gasp out how good it was, and god was that an accomplishment for him.

“ah, yeah. there, huh? that feel good, baby girl?” he’d groan, making sure you were alright as his hands would grip your hips tighter, trying to prevent himself from throwing all his self control out the window as he started to push his hips up to meet your now sloppy little bounces. “found your spot, hm? right here?”

you’d moan incoherently at this point, nodding desperately, head lulling against his neck as you’d mumble how close you were, feeling the heat in your belly burning up more as his rough hand found the soft flesh there — grabbing at it. “close, ain’t ya, doll?” he’d pant, feeling more desperate as you’d moan his name desperate for more — your back arching and hips bucking for more.

but he couldn’t have you finish without him, no.

“not yet, baby. gotta hold it.. just gimmie a few minutes..”

he’d curse under his breath to himself as he watched your thighs tremble from the denial. god you were too damn pretty right now. his body trembled as you whimpered and whined even more. he’d then suddenly pull out, making you gasp and leaving you empty, his breathing short and heavy. however his hands quickly went to your hips to flip you over. “on your belly, baby.” he’d pant, needing you in a new position.

and holy fuck would that be the most life changing position ever.

slipping into your gorgeous pussy from behind, letting his cock stretch it to the hilt, buried so deep you felt him all tangled up in your guts with each and every thrust. the type of fuck that had your eyes rolling back in an instant and your lips parting, little whimpers and babbles spilling outta it like they were all your pretty mouth knew.

he’d grab your chin too, tease you for it, make you look at your reflection in the mirror.

“ah, such a mess. look at ya, you see yourself? gettin’ fucked stupid by me, baby?” his rough voice would ask, keeping his hand there to make sure you looked at your own fucked out reflection — and also the catch the drool that had pooled and fell from your lips.

he always loved you like this. it was when you’d get the most messy, and where he could really humiliate you — tease you — and yet even praise you, leaning down and placing little kisses all over the side of your pretty face whenever he had the heart to.

until finally, he’d let you cum.

only after you’d begged so much though your head was getting foggy, till your small body was quivering under his big one to the point that it looked like you were gonna collapse. his rough fingers would snake down and prod at your swollen clit, giving it the attention it had lacked this whole time.

“mm, i ignored her this whole time, didn’ i baby?” he’d lean closer to your ear and ask, as if he didn’t already know the answer. he just loved seeing you struggle even more to form something other than your meaningless babbles. and only when you’d manage to get something other than that, would he let you cum — letting his fingers do the work on your clit as he just kept you nice and full and satisfied, like the pretty princess you were.

౨ৎ

[hoshifighting]

gym rat roommate!seungcheol

— WARNINGS: smut, seungkwan accidentally catch you naked (seungcheol's fault), oral (f. receiving), seungcheol cums untouched, ''begging'', reader tries to be unbothered as seungcheol eats her out, mentions of anabolics jokes and etc. — WC: 3.2k

you never thought sharing a dorm with a leo would be this damn exhausting. when you both got assigned to the same room, you thought it’d be fine—no big deal, just another dude trying to get through college, right? wrong. seungcheol is the textbook definition of a gym rat, spending half his life lifting weights, and the other half driving you insane.

“can you not leave your towel on the bed?” you huff, staring at the damp mess he’s made.

“it’ll dry,” he shrugs, not even bothering to look up from his phone.

“not the point,” you mutter, tossing the towel into the bathroom.

and then there’s the cabinets. oh god, the cabinets. every time he makes his stupid whey protein shake, it’s like he forgets how to close them. it’s a small thing, but it drives you up the wall.

“are you allergic to shutting doors or something?” you ask, eyebrow raised as you gesture at the open cabinets.

“didn’t realize it bothered you so much,” he says, smirking, which only makes you want to strangle him more.

but the stove? that’s where you draw the line. the dude can wash dishes, sure, but he leaves the stove looking like a battlefield, grease splatters and all.

“seriously, seungcheol, you gonna clean that or what?” you snap, pointing at the mess.

“i’ll get to it,” he replies lazily, which means it’s gonna sit there until you can’t take it anymore and do it yourself.

you two bicker like this all the time, the tension simmering just below the surface. it doesn’t help that he’s constantly complaining about your hair everywhere, or the makeup you leave on the sink when you’re rushing out the door.

“do you shed on purpose?” he grumbles, vacuuming for the third time that week.

“do you have to be such a neat freak?” you shoot back, rolling your eyes.

and don’t even get started on the tv. whenever you switch from his boring sports channels to something decent, like a reality show, he acts like you’ve committed a crime.

“i was watching that,” he says, voice low and annoyed.

“yeah, well, this is more interesting,” you retort, settling in for your dose of drama.

the only time you get any peace is when he’s at the gym, and those hours are like heaven. just pure, blissful silence. and for him? the few hours when you’re at your dance classes must be the only moments he’s not silently cursing your existence.

you always wished for a quiet roommate. not that seungcheol was loud—no, he wasn’t a screamer or anything, but his friends? they never left. you couldn't catch a break from the constant parade of guys stomping through your shared dorm like it was their second home. jihoon, one of seungcheol’s quieter friends, was looking for a new roommate at one point, and you almost packed your bags right then and there. the guy was a dream—silent as a ghost and didn’t have a herd of dudes wandering around the place like it was a frat house.

but nope, you were stuck with seungcheol, who never bothered to warn you before letting his friends take over the living room.

and that’s how you ended up in this mess.

seungcheol had left a few minutes ago for the gym, and you were enjoying the peace, taking a long, hot bath. everything was fine until you realized—you forgot your towel. with no one home, you figured it’d be safe to dash to your room and grab it. big mistake.

thinking the coast is clear, you slip out of the bathroom, water dripping off your skin, and make a dash for your room. just as you reach the hallway, freezing your ass off, you hear it—a rustling from the kitchen. before you can even react, seungkwan rounds the corner, a cup in hand, and both of you freeze.

“AHHHHH!”

you both scream like you’ve just seen a ghost, or, you know, each other naked. you bolt for your room, slamming the door shut behind you.

you can hear the guys in the living room getting startled, their conversation cutting off abruptly as seungkwan yells, “don’t come in here! for the love of god, stay put!” you imagine him standing there, one hand clapped over his eyes, traumatized for life—or not lmao.

from the safety of your room, you yell at the top of your lungs, “CHOI SEUNGFUCKING-CHEOL!”

you don’t leave your bedroom until you’re absolutely sure they’ve all left. you can hear them shuffling around, and then, finally, silence. when seungcheol knocks on your door, you yank it open, eyes burning with rage, and immediately start pounding on his chest.

“what the hell did i do?!” he asks, bewildered, as you keep landing blows on him, your fists connecting with his chest repeatedly.

“what the fuck, seungcheol! i’m going to fucking kill you!” you hiss, your voice barely keeping it together.

the boys who are just leaving freeze at the front door, eyes wide, before they scramble to get out, closing the door behind them in a hurry.

“whoa, whoa, what’s going on?” he stammers, trying to catch your wrists, wincing with each hit.

“what’s going on?! you seriously asking me that right now?” you shout, not giving a damn that he’s confused. his clueless expression only makes your blood boil more.

“i wasn’t even here, what are you talking about?” he says, sounding defensive, and it nearly makes you explode.

“you didn’t even fucking bother to tell me your friends were still here! i thought i was alone, seungcheol!” you scream, your voice reaching that pitch where even he starts to look worried. “and now seungkwan’s seen my fucking ass!”

his eyes go wide, shock written all over his face as he stares at you. “wait, what? seungkwan saw you naked?!”

“yes, you idiot!” you practically screech, your face flushing red with embarrassment. “he saw everything, and you’re to blame!”

“alright, alright, calm down,” he says, though his voice is anything but calm. “just… stop screaming for a sec, will you?”

“don’t tell me to calm down!” you snap back, but your hits start to lose their strength. “i can’t believe this is happening. fuck, i’m never gonna live this down.”

“it’s not that bad,” he tries, but you can hear the strain in his voice, as if he’s trying to convince himself as much as you.

“not that bad? not that bad?!” you glare at him, hands on your hips now, chest heaving. “seungkwan saw my naked ass, seungcheol! you have any idea how fucking mortifying that is?”

he bites his lip, and you can see him holding back something—probably a retort, maybe even an apology. but it doesn’t matter, because deep down, a part of him is seething for a different reason altogether.

“you’re not getting off that easy. i swear, if this ever happens again, you’re going to regret it for the rest of your life. i don’t care if i have to tattoo a schedule on your forehead, you’re gonna tell me when your damn friends are over!” you snarl, storming back into your room and slamming the door shut, leaving seungcheol standing there, more than a little terrified.

your luck was that seungkwan kept his mouth shut and didn’t tell anyone. he even apologized to you, which, honestly, wasn’t necessary since it wasn’t his fault to begin with. when he showed up at your door, looking sheepish, you waved off his apologies.

“it wasn’t your fault, seungkwan,” you say, sighing. “i don’t even know why you’re apologizing.”

“i know why,” seungkwan mutters, and you catch the way his eyes flicker toward seungcheol, who’s hovering behind him, looking a bit too innocent.

“he made you do this, didn’t he?” you ask, narrowing your eyes at seungcheol.

“are you really gonna scold me in front of my friend?” seungcheol whines, crossing his arms.

“it was your fault,” you and seungkwan say in unison, causing seungcheol to groan dramatically, dragging a hand down his face.

the next few days, you’re still so mad—the embarrassment has lightened, but the irritation lingers. you ignore seungcheol’s existence entirely, which seems to throw him off more than your usual bickering. but the result? the boy falls right into line. cabinets? closed. towels? hung up neatly. the stove? spotless, along with the dishes. it’s like he’s scared to mess up again.

he even starts working out at home, right in the middle of the living room, just so there’s no risk of his friends dropping by when he’s not there. every time you walk by and give him a dismissive huff, he sulks, pouting like a kicked puppy.

“you’re really not gonna talk to me?” he asks one day, mid-push-up, his voice a little too whiny for someone who usually acts so tough.

you don’t even bother to respond, just let out another huff and keep walking.

“come on, y/n, i’m sorry! what do i have to do, beg?” he calls after you, his tone half-joking, half-desperate.

you pause, glancing back at him, his big eyes pleading with you. you almost crack but manage to keep your composure.

you huff, slumping onto the couch, grabbing the remote to turn on the tv. seungcheol scoffs as he watches you, getting up from his spot and kneeling in front of you. you ignore him, your eyes glued to the screen, but you can feel his presence, and it’s hard not to notice how ridiculous he looks, sarcastically begging for forgiveness.

“y/n, come on, forgive me, pleeease,” he drawls out dramatically, hands clasped together like he’s praying, his voice dripping with mockery.

you finally tear your gaze away from the tv, raising an eyebrow at him. “go drink your protein shake, cheol,” you say, your tone dismissive.

he rolls his eyes, placing his hands on your knees, and there’s something in his touch that makes you pause. “okay, okay, for real now. can you please forgive me?”

your eyes drift down to his hands, warm and firm on your kneecaps. he notices the way you’re staring and moves his hands to rest on his thighs, waiting for your response. you stay quiet, taking in the sight of him kneeling in front of you, looking almost vulnerable.

when he thinks you’re going to ignore him again, you finally speak up, your tone dripping with mockery. “do you really want my forgiveness, cheol?”

he hums in frustration, rolling his eyes again, as if he’s bracing himself for another sarcastic remark.

you let a small smirk play on your lips. “then why don’t you make the most of being on your knees, and put that mouth to better use?”

his eyes widen in shock, your unbothered expression leaving him stunned. you can see the gears turning in his head, but before he can even respond, you slowly spread your legs in front of him, your attention casually returning to the tv.

seungcheol nearly freezes on the spot, almost losing his balance as he processes what you just said. but the sight of you, open and inviting, has him swallowing hard, his throat bobbing as he struggles to maintain composure.

he doesn’t know where to start, caught between the shock of your command and the thrill that’s been building up inside him for ages. he hesitates for a moment, then reaches under your dress, his fingers grazing the edge of your panties—the ones he’s already had a peek at earlier. you keep your eyes glued to the tv, acting like you didn’t just ask him to do what he’s been fantasizing about for far too long.

seungcheol’s never been one for preliminaries; that’s just not his style. so instead of teasing, he pushes your dress up, exposing more of your thighs, and hooks his fingers around the waistband of your panties, tugging them down. his breath catches when he realizes you weren’t prepared for this—you’re not wearing the usual lacy things he often sees in the laundry, and you’re not wet—yet.

his hands are firm under your legs as he spreads them wider, leaning in closer. the anticipation coils in his gut as he spits on your pussy, watching the wetness slowly glide over your folds. you squirm just a little, the sudden sensation making you shift, but your eyes stay focused on the tv, pretending this isn’t affecting you.

the sight of you like this—so casual, so indifferent—only makes seungcheol more determined. he dips his head down, his tongue dragging a slow, deliberate line along your slit, tasting the mix of his spit and your skin. the thought that seungkwan got to see you naked before he did burns in the back of his mind, fueling his movements.

he starts off slow, almost gentle, but the more you keep ignoring him, the harder he goes. his lips wrap around your clit, sucking it hard enough to make you gasp, though you try to keep it quiet. he can feel your resolve slipping as he works his mouth on you, each stroke of his tongue more focused, more intense.

seungcheol’s goal is clear: make you forget about whatever the hell you’re watching on tv and finally give him the attention he craves. he wants to see you fall apart because of him, to know that he’s the one getting you off like this.

he moves one of his hands to your thigh, squeezing it as he bobs his head, sucking your clit harder with each motion. finally, you can’t take it anymore. your head tilts down, and you meet his gaze—his big, dark eyes looking up at you so fucking needy. the sight of him, lips slick with your arousal, head moving rhythmically between your legs, makes your jaw fall slack.

your hand instinctively reaches for his hair, fingers tangling in the strands as you grip him tighter, urging him on. seungcheol hums against your clit, the vibrations making you moan, your focus entirely on him now. the tv is forgotten, the show nothing more than background noise as you finally give him what he’s been aching for—your full, undivided attention.

his tongue flicks over your clit—fast, almost unbelievably so—and your body reacts instantly. your back arches off the couch, toes curling, and your grip on the remote tightens. you squeeze it so hard that buttons are pressed at random, the tv screen flashing through channels, the volume going mute, settings changing. but none of that matters anymore. the only thing you can focus on is the way seungcheol’s tongue works against you, driving you absolutely insane.

he grabs your hips, holding you down because you’re squirming too much, trying to grind against his face despite the overwhelming sensation. every time you move, he digs his fingers into your skin, a low groan vibrating against your pussy. your breath comes out in shaky moans, and even though you can barely string words together, you start talking dirty to him anyway.

“f-fuck, seungcheol—y-you're so fucking good at this, fuck—”

your words are laced with moans, stuttering as you try to form sentences. “y-your tongue... oh my god, i hate you—i fucking hate you,” you gasp, but the way you’re grinding into his face tells him otherwise. “i s-swear, you're gonna make me cum s-so fast, you asshole.”

the filthy words spilling from your mouth only fuel him more. he’s close to losing it, just from the sound of you, from the way you’re cursing him out between moans. his tongue flicks faster, relentless, and he watches the way you react, loving the way your body shakes under his control.

“y-yeah, just like that, don't stop—oh, fuck,” you manage to gasp out, your voice rising as he pushes you closer to the edge. he’s so turned on it’s almost embarrassing, the way you’re unraveling beneath him making him throb painfully in his pants. your filthy and breathless talk, your taste and the way youre wetting his tongue more and more, makes him feel like he could cum right there, just from the way you moan his name.

he’s obsessed with the way you’re falling apart, and when you start tugging at his hair harder, he knows he’s got you right where he wants. your head falls back, the tv now nothing but a silent, blurry background, and all you can focus on is the feeling of his tongue, his mouth, the way he’s devouring you like it’s the only thing he’s ever wanted.

“god, fuck—cheol, i’m so fucking close,” you moan, your body trembling as you teeter on the edge. he flicks his tongue faster, sucking hard on your clit, desperate to make you cum, desperate to feel the way you’ll fall apart completely because of him.

seungcheol’s hips grind against the corner of the sofa, desperately seeking some kind of friction. when he feels your breath catch, your voice going silent, he risks a glance up and sees you—your mouth open, almost like you’re ready to take him in, and your hand gripping his hair with an iron grip, showing no mercy. the way you’re spasming on his tongue, the tension in your body, it all pushes him closer to the edge.

he lets out a long, whiny moan against you, eyebrows furrowed in concentration, and then he can’t help it—his mouth slips from your clit, leaving it throbbing and aching, as his hand rushes down to grab his cock. he presses his thumb against his slit through his sweatpants, feeling the dampness already soaking through. he’s so turned on it’s almost painful, his hips bucking against his hand as he lets out a moan into the soft skin of your thigh.

“fuck, seungcheol,” you pant, spreading your legs wider, acting like you’re not just as turned on by the sight of him falling apart in front of you. “you really came that fast? i didn’t think the gym rat would be such a quick shot,” you tease, your voice dripping with mockery. “what, the anabolics making you weak or something?”

his eyes snap up, and he shoots you a glare, knowing damn well he doesn’t use that shit. “shut the fuck up,” he mutters, trying to sound pissed, but the effect is ruined by the way his voice shakes.

you smirk, your gaze mocking as you look down at him. “then stop whining and get back to work,” you command, your tone sharp. “or do i need to find someone else who can actually handle me?”

seungcheol’s jaw clenches, eyes stabbing you as he leans in again. he bites down lightly on one of your folds, making you jolt and laugh, the sound quickly turning into a moan as he resumes his task.

“that’s more like it,” you say, voice breathy, threading your fingers through his hair again, a satisfied smile on your lips as he starts flicking his tongue over your clit once more.

he grins against you, feeling the vibrations of your moan as you finally let go, focusing entirely on the pleasure he’s giving you. it’s a game for him now, teasing you just as much as you’re teasing him, determined to make you lose control all over again. the sound of your laughter + your moans is the only thing he needs, spurring him on as he buries his face between your legs, eager to make you come undone for him, and only him.

[spiritsdiary]

— FIRST DATE with TYLER OWENS

wc: 788 | content: description of intense weather (??)

you had made the mistake of issuing a challenge to tyler owens: “impress me.”

and tyler owens would be damned if he backed down from a challenge.

so he got you flowers and brought you along to thursday rodeos with his crew, and he must have talked to your mama too, because how else he could’ve figured out where to get your favorite pie was beyond you.

“nothing ever throws you off, does it?” you asked him the fifth time he showed up at your door, armed with a box of pie and that damn smile.

he had simply shrugged before reciting his stupid mantra at you. “if you feel it, chase it.”

he laughed when you shut the door in his face. you’d be lying if you said weren’t laughing yourself when you opened the box, grabbed a fork, and dug in, the dessert tasting a little sweeter than usual.

while it was nice, you’d grow bored of this routine eventually, and tyler seemed to know that, too. but he had an idea, and while it was stupid as all hell, he was willing to take his chances.

you barely pulled the door open when he spoke.

“i wanna take you out tonight.” well. that was new.

“it’s not thursday,” was all you could think to say in response.

“i know a spot,” he’d said, completely unfazed, with a cheeky wink and a tip of his hat, and really, you should’ve known what he meant.

because why wouldn’t you now find yourself in the passenger seat of tyler’s truck as he veers off the road directly towards a tornado?

“tyler owens, are you crazy?!” you exclaim, the only response being a bout of wild laughter as he throttles it even faster. “you better not be filming this!”

“you kiddin’?” he gestures to the cameras mounted above the windshield. “don’t worry, this’ll be just for us. we can look back on this in ten years and laugh.”

“if we live,” you mumble to yourself, glad of the wind, rain, and tyler’s blaring radio.

he looks at you for a moment, though, a flicker of concern in his eyes. “you ready?”

you don’t even have to think about your answer. “hell yeah, tornado wrangler.”

“‘s what i like to hear, baby,” he says, rolling to a stop in the middle of the field. “and now… we wait.”

“next time, just say you wanna drive me into a tornado.”

“next time?” he raises his eyebrows at you as he flips a few switches and anchors the truck.

“you’re insane,” you laugh, shaking your head.

“i’m startin’ to think that you like that about me,” he replies, nodding to the tornado only feet away as he makes sure your harness is secure. “better hold on to somethin’.”

you should be scared, but when you grab on to tyler’s hand, fueled by adrenaline and exhilaration, you just feel a sudden calm. like you belong here, with him, in his truck, getting hit head on by a tornado.

and maybe that’s why you let him kiss you.

the tornado swirls around the truck, the wind screaming so loudly you can barely hear his music, and you lean into him even though the harness digs into your shoulders. his kiss is gentle, respectful, and you can feel him smiling as you kiss him back, only pulling away to touch your forehead to his.

the winds of the tornado rock the truck, debris pelting the outside, but you’re too wrapped up in tyler to even care. you breathe him in until the sound of the storm begins to dissipate and the beating of your heart fades in your ears.

“you can open your eyes, sweetheart,” he whispers, watching as you lean back into your seat.

his voice spurs you into action, laughing as you undo your harness and jump out of the truck. he’s quick to follow you, smiling proudly as you let out a loud whoop.

“told you i knew a spot.”

“tyler owens…” you say his name again, slowly turning to look at him where he leans against his truck, arms folded across his chest.

“yeah?”

you could blame his tight jeans, or his backwards cap, or that damn smile of his for what you do next, but in the end you do it solely because you want to.

because you want him.

you run up to him, your hand bumping against the brim of his cap as you throw your arms around his neck, and kiss him, pressing him back against the hood.

and when his hands take hold of your hips, his mouth insistent against yours, you know that however you challenge him, he’ll always be crazy enough to impress you.

good evening twisters/tyler owens nation, i am officially throwing my hat in the ring 🥰

m.list

© qimirdiary 2024. do not repost without permission.

[strawberrymochin]

The cum analysis

A slight analysis on how jjk men would cum | Gojo satoru; Geto suguru; Nanami kento; Ryomen sukuna; Toji fushiguro |

Gojo Satoru

Gojo cums hard and a lot. Like insanely a lot. He would shudder from the build up pleasure with a series of moans as he spurts his load into you. You could say you're milking him rather than making him cum. Sometimes he might cum prematurely while foreplay, which is practically a chance for you to display your dominance and overstimulate him. And when I say he cums a lot, I mean even if he wears condoms to prevent it ending inside of you, the intensity of him cumming would either end up leaking out of the condom or breaking it. If he fucks you raw, his one orgasm would end up filling your cervix upto the brim.

His cum would be thick, creamy and milky white. Super jiggly in texture almost resembling jelly. It would have a slight odour and would taste sweet considering the amount of sweet he consumes in his diet.

Geto Suguru

Geto cums a lot, but he tries to edge himself along with you wanting to sync both of your highs. He would be totally focused on making you feel good, drawing circles on your clit with his tip as his other hand focuses on streching your tight velvet walls for him to make it fit, curling his fingers inside you, drawing orgasm after orgasm, totally neglecting his throbbing penis. When he finally buries himself in you and starts thrusting himself chasing the doors of heaven he gets to experience, rolling his eyes back, swallowing his moans, he would feel his balls getting heavy and his muscles around his pelvic region starting to contract. He would not be able to contain himself and finally cum as he furiously drives you through another orgasm pinching your oversensitive nipples. He would cum in spurts filling you up so good that his cum would be oozing out your vagina messing the sheets even though he hasn't pulled out yet.

His cum would be slick and creamy. It would the prettiest pearly white you've ever seen as it trickles down your legs, when you stand up. His cum would be odour less and might be sweet or salty depending upon his current diet.

Nanami Kento

Damn. He hates making mess, you know right? He's lowkey a clean freak and would hate to mess things up, except that one time where he would lose his shit and cum uncontrollably as he fucks you on the kitchen counter, in low spurts messing the kitchen floor and you both. You just wanted to bake some vanilla cupcakes for him, however he had you now bend over the counter ass fucking you while the cup cake batter laid aside in neglectance. He would twitch uncontrollably as he fucks you senseless while his balls rams on your pussy with each thrust. The fact that he's fucking you mindlessly as both of your slick pool down, in his kitchen made his cock even more hard, as he continues cumming. He cums a decent amount of his load enough for you to feel more than satisfied.

His cum would be sticky and might smell a bit metalic. His texture would be somewhat between creamy and watery. It will be sticky as said earlier and I dunno if it's weird to describe it that way but if you swallow his load your mouth would feel sticky like umm....well.....prime from dark web...what the heck I'm even babbling.... forget you ever read this....but like all those reels if you have seen you would know the texture I'm talking about....whatever let's move on.

Ryomen Sukuna

Hail lord sukuna!! Sukuna- sama's cum would make your head go dizzy. It's almost so addictive that you would be begging him to fill you up to the brim again. And I'm not even kidding when I say this but once you've had it there's no backing away. He cums a heck lot and even after cumming three times or more his still hard cock would be pounding into your pussy mercilessly. He ejaculates fast with lots of load, thus you wouldn't have time to leak out the previous one as another one fills you up, he would creampie your pussy and press his big palm on your lower stomach just to see his cum spurting from the sides of your hole stuffed with his dick. Sukuna- sama and his dick- sama both are merciless. I don't need to explain more....Ig

His cum would be thick and slippery, and so much in quantity that you could save it up and use it as a lube in future. :⁠-⁠) His cum would stink a bit and you love the nasty humid sex smell it gives off. Might even taste metalic or salty. Have fun.

Toji Fushiguro

Toji— the dilfushiguro would cum a decent amount to get your entire lower region sticky and sloppy with his mess. Your ass would pound up and down forming sticky strings, exhilarating the sound of your skin slapping as the moans of you two echoes through the empty room. His fingers would tangle itself, rolling the slick of you both only to stuff it into your mouth wanting you to lick his finger clean. He might also tell you to lick his dick clean after you both ride down your high.

His cum would be sticky, sloppy and thick. I believe it might be slight off cold like of pale white, since being broke baby wouldn't have a proper diet, that still doesn't affect the quality of sperms yk. Also his cum would be odourless.

Other parts of this series- The moan analysis | The Dick analysis

© strawberrymochin 24 | plagiarism won't be tolerated |

[falltoodeepinmymetaphor]

DON'T SMILE

been very busy lately but hopefully ill manage to release more serious content in a bit !

You’d been scrolling TikTok late at night when you stumbled across the trend. People handing their unsuspecting partners a folded-up note with a very suggestive message: “If you don’t smile, I’ll give you the sucky sucky tonight ;>”

Your first thought? Simon would kill me.

Your second thought? Worth it.

You knew Simon was a man of composure, but getting under his skin, and trying to get him to crack, was one of your favorite pastimes.

Dirty jokes, double entendres, inappropriate timing. You had an arsenal of ways to make him groan or roll his eyes.

By the time he got home, you’d already set up the trap.

Your phone was propped up discreetly on the bookshelf in the corner, angled perfectly to catch his reaction.

You grabbed a scrap of paper, scrawled the infamous words with a sly flourish, and folded it up neatly.

When you heard his heavy boots coming down the hall, you called out, “Simon!”

“What?” His gruff response echoed back, as no-nonsense as ever.

“Come here!” you chirped, voice dripping with sweetness.

His hulking figure appeared in the doorway moments later, mask in place, sleeves rolled up from whatever hellish workout he’d just endured. He stopped short, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

“What do you want?”

“Just this!” You shoved the note at him with a grin, practically vibrating with anticipation.

He didn’t take it at first, instead fixing you with that look that said he knew you were up to something.

Slowly, almost begrudgingly, he snatched the paper from your hand and unfolded it.

You watched his eyes dart across the words. Once. Twice. His expression didn’t budge. Not a single twitch, no smirk, no sharp exhale. Nothing. He just stood there, holding the note, his gaze as unreadable as ever.

Your excitement faltered. “...Well?” you prompted, leaning forward like that might help him crack.

Simon’s eyes flicked briefly to the corner of the room where your phone was clearly set up and recording. His gaze returned to yours and slowly, deliberately, he tilted his head.

“I didn’t smile, no?” His voice was low, almost lazy, like he already knew exactly how this was going to end.

You hesitated. “Uh... no?”

There was a flicker of amusement in Simon’s eyes as he folded the note back up with the kind of care that was meant to drive you mad.

He didn’t look at you right away, just rolled the paper between his fingers like he was deciding what to do with it.

“You gonna keep your promise, love?” he asked, finally lifting his gaze.

Your stomach flipped, and you tried to shrug like you weren’t already starting to squirm. “It was a joke, Simon,” you said, forcing out a laugh. “You know, a joke. Ha-ha funny. You’re supposed to laugh and move on.”

He tilted his head, watching you like a hawk sizing up a very nervous rabbit. “I don’t think I’m laughing.”

Your mouth opened, ready to snap back, but then he pocketed the note with an infuriating nonchalance and unfastened his belt.

You blinked. “What are you doing?”

His hands worked methodically, pulling the belt free and holding it in one hand as he stepped toward you.

“Well,” he said, dragging the word out just enough to sound smug, “I’m tired. And you did say- what was it? ‘If you don’t smile, I’ll-’”

“Alright, alright!” you cut in, heat flooding your face. “It’s not legally binding!”

Simon let out a short laugh, shaking his head like you were the ridiculous one. “Didn’t realize you were the type to back out of a deal.”

You took a step back as he moved closer, until your shoulders hit the wall. “It wasn’t a deal!”

“Oh, it was written down. That counts for something.”

He dropped the belt onto the nearby chair, leaning one hand against the wall beside your head as his eyes drifted lazily to the phone you’d set up. The damn thing was still recording.

His gaze flicked back to you, a smirk playing on his lips now. “So, this was the plan, huh? Thought I’d blush? Stammer? You were gonna put me on the internet looking like some poor, flustered sod?”

“I didn’t think this far ahead,” you admitted, trying to duck under his arm, but he stepped in closer, blocking your escape.

“No kidding.”

You groaned, feeling your face burn as his other hand came up to pluck a strand of hair off your shoulder, his movements far too relaxed. He was enjoying this, dragging it out, and you were absolutely furious with yourself for thinking this would go any other way.

“You’re such an ass,” you muttered.

“I am,” he said, letting his hand drop to his side, “but you thought you’d win. Cute, really.”

You rolled your eyes. “You know, I could just delete the video.”

He turned his head to look at the phone again, then reached out and grabbed it in one quick motion.

“Simon!”

Too late. He angled it toward himself, replaying the footage with a flick of his thumb. You could hear your voice echoing from the tiny speaker, your awkward laugh and poorly delivered excuses making him snort.

“This is pathetic,” he said, not even looking at you as he tapped the screen.

“Give it back!” you lunged for the phone, but he lifted it out of reach without any effort.

“You’re keeping this,” he said, his tone smug. “Perfect reminder of the time you tried to play me and lost.”

“Simon-”

He turned off the recording and tossed the phone back onto the shelf like it didn’t matter anymore. “Go on, love. Post it. Let the world see how terrified I was.”

You glared at him, arms crossed, trying to will away the flush on your face. “I hate you.”

“Don't hate me because you’re predictable.”

He stepped back, grabbed his belt from the chair, and shot you a pointed look before turning toward the door.

“Oh, and for the record,” he added, glancing over his shoulder, “still didn’t smile.”

---

Dinner was over, the dishes were stacked in the sink, and the house had settled into a quiet calm.

Simon had made his way to the couch after his obligatory grunt of appreciation for the meal, his usual way of saying thank you.

Now, he was stretched out, one arm slung lazily over the backrest, the other holding a cold beer as the TV hummed softly in the background.

It was football, Chelsea versus Manchester, and, judging by the occasional grunt of approval or muttered curse under his breath, Simon was just engaged enough to care.

You leaned in the doorway, watching him for a moment. You considered not following through but, well, you were someone who kept their word.

He rarely let himself relax like this. He still wore his joggers and that old, slightly too-tight T-shirt that clung to his shoulders and chest but rode up just enough to show the soft curve of his belly when he shifted.

The sight of his happy trail peeking out where the fabric lifted made something stir deep in your chest. Or lower.

He caught you staring.

“What��re you up to?” he asked, though his attention was still half on the screen, his eyes half-lidded and heavy with the kind of lazy contentment that came after a full stomach.

You didn’t answer, not with words anyway. Instead, you padded over, slipping onto the couch beside him, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his body.

He raised a brow at you but didn’t protest when your hand wandered to his thigh, fingers tracing lazy circles over the soft material of his joggers.

“Oi,” he said, his tone half-hearted. “Match is on.”

You ignored him, shifting to straddle one of his legs as you leaned in closer, your hands drifting upward.

The hand that had been holding his beer came down to rest on your hip, his fingers flexing instinctively as you worked your way higher, fingers slipping under the waistband of his joggers.

“Still watching?” you teased, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

His eyes flicked to you, the usual sharpness dulled by the beer and the game. “You’re not gonna let me, are you?”

You smirked, tugging gently at the band of his boxers. “Not a chance.”

He sighed like he was put-upon, but there was a slight upward twitch of his lips as he leaned back against the cushions, his body going slack. “Go on, then. Don’t let me stop you.”

Taking that as permission, you slid his joggers and boxers down enough to expose him, the soft, warm skin of his stomach rising and falling under your touch. His happy trail led downward, drawing your attention like a line you were all too eager to follow.

Simon didn’t say much as you leaned in, pressing kisses along his lower stomach, but you felt the subtle shift in his breathing, the tightening of his hand on your hip.

His body wasn’t all hard lines and sculpted muscle. He carried himself like a man who’d earned his softness, a blend of broad strength and the comfortable weight of someone who lived his life without worrying about perfection.

As your mouth traced along his happy trail, Simon’s head tilted back against the couch. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment before opening again, lazy and half-lidded as he glanced down at you.

His cock began hardening against your cheek, the sight of it making your mouth water. His hand found your jaw, his grip firm, tilting your head just enough for him to guide you where he wanted.

You started slow, dragging your tongue along his length, tracing the veins and swirling around the tip.

A low, throaty groan slipped from him, his hips shifting slightly as he watched you through hooded eyes. His thumb pressed into the curve of your cheek, his grip a little rougher now, sending a rush of heat through your core.

"Don't tease," he muttered, his voice carrying just a hint of warning as his hand tightened on your jaw, holding you steady.

You smirked up at him, letting your lips wrap around the tip, taking him in shallowly before pulling back just to feel the weight of his cock against your tongue.

The way his grip shifted on your jaw, the small hitch in his breath, told you he wasn’t going to let you set the pace for long.

“Enough of that,” Simon said, his thumb brushing along your cheek briefly before he used his grip to push you down onto him. His hips lifted slightly, and he groaned as you took him deeper.

You let him guide you, your hands resting on his thighs for balance as he started to control the rhythm. His cock filled your mouth, stretching your lips as he pushed in further, groaning when he felt your throat flex around him.

His grip on your jaw was firm, his thumb and fingers pressing into your skin as he moved you exactly the way he wanted.

"That's it," he murmured, his eyes fixed on the way your mouth worked over him, your lips wet and swollen as you hollowed your cheeks. His hips rolled in time with your movements, each thrust deliberate, controlled. "Look at you. Taking it so well."

Your throat burned slightly as he pushed you down to the base, holding you there for a moment before letting you pull back just enough to breathe. He groaned again, low and guttural, as your tongue dragged against him on the way up.

“Fuck, love,” he hissed, his grip tightening as he pushed you back down, forcing you to take him again. Simon's movements grew rougher, his control slipping as he used your mouth for his own pleasure.

His stomach tensed, the soft curve of it flexing each time his hips lifted off the couch.

You looked up at him through your lashes, meeting his gaze as you let him drive himself deeper.

The sight of his half-lidded eyes, the flush creeping up his neck, made you squeeze your thighs together. He was unraveling, and you loved every second of it.

Simon’s jaw clenched, his fingers flexing against your jaw as he thrust into your mouth one last time, groaning deeply as his head tipped back against the couch.

His grip on you eased, his hips slowing as he pulled you off him, letting you catch your breath.

Simon smirked, thumb brushing over your swollen lips. “Knew you’d be good for me.."

[rambling-at-midnight]

When the Truth Comes Out

Request: Reader asks, "So, when are you going to ask me to marry you?" I hope I did your prompt justice!

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Summary: It’s been three and a half years since Jason asked you out, and he knows you’re the one. He knows every part of you, the good and bad, and loves it all. The problem is that you don’t know everything about him… and his secrets may ruin everything.

Word count: 3.5k

Jason’s never been one to window shop, but lately he’s been noticing the glint of jewelry.

You give him a weird look when he stumbles in the middle of the department store. It’s because a ring display caught him off guard like a punch to the gut, but he can’t explain that, so Jason waves off your concerned questioning.

You give him a weird look before turning back to the toy aisle. The two of you spent the morning bickering over what present to give Damian for Christmasukkah. You want to give him a keyboard to learn piano, but Jason’s sure that Damian would be happier receiving an art kit. He knows violin, which is a strings instrument, not whatever the piano is. Besides, the kid’s a brat. He’d want a full-size grand piano that originally belonged to Mozart or some shit and costs a hundred thousand dollars, which isn’t exactly pocket cash for the two of you.

And, sure, Jason’s got one of Bruce’s credit cards in his wallet—Bruce offered to give him one in Jason’s name, but it was the principle of using the stolen card, so Jason turned him down—but he’d be damned before he spoiled the kid any more than he already is.

He keeps his eyes firmly on you after that. It’s where they’re supposed to be, anyway.

You end up getting the keyboard after surreptitiously checking your bank account against your projected budget several times. It’s funny. After three years, you still think you can hide stuff like that from Jason. Probably because he pretends not to notice. He makes a mental note to stop by your landlord’s and see if the Red Hood can make any suggestions about lowering rent for your building.

As the two of you walk out of the store, a cold gust of wind tries to steal your breath away. You step closer to Jason, cold fingers twining with his, and he easily drapes an arm over your shoulders to keep you close. “Was that the last one?”

“I think so,” you reply, checking your list again. “The keyboard for Damian, massage gun for Dick, matching pajamas for Cass and Steph, Pokemon expansion pack for Duke, and the fuzzy socks for Tim.”

The socks are decorated with the words ‘I BREACHED CONTAINMENT’ in black stitching. Jason saw them in a tourist trap he saved from a D-list rogue and remembered how Tim looked like the bog monster after falling into the sewers the day before. They’ve been sitting in his closet since the end of August.

“I have too many siblings,” Jason sighs.

“Have you figured out what you’re giving Bruce?”

Jason bites his lip.

You say, “Ah. Well, you still have a couple days.”

Yeah. Jason has two. He’d been supposed to look out for anything to catch his eye in the store, but all he noticed was the stupid ring display.

He opens the car door for you, then shoves the keyboard in its box into the backseat and starts the engine. Jason drives home one-handed. The other holds yours loosely over the console. You’re checking your bank account again on your phone, frowning slightly, thumb brushing up and down Jason’s palm. He keeps an eye on you as he drives, playing idly by squeezing your fingers one by one until you have to try to hide a smile by looking out the window. 

He doesn’t let go of your third finger. Something nags at the back of his mind, like—

Jason realizes that he’s trying to find a ring, and his heart stops. The car jumps forward when he slams on the gas, and he drops your hand to put both of his on the wheel as he swerves around a minivan. You let out a startled yelp, hands flying out for something to grab onto. The stupid keyboard slides off the back seat and into the footwell.

Two cars lay on their horns when he nearly sideswipes them. Jason responds with an emphatic middle finger and cuts across three lanes to get away. The poor car doesn’t respond as well to his driving as his motorcycle does, and the engine whines as he leaves the other cars in the dust until he eases off.

As soon as the car reaches a relatively normal speed, you say, “Jay! What just happened?”

“Sorry,” is all he can say, keeping both arms stiff on the wheel. “Sorry, honey.”

“You okay?”

“‘M good. You good?”

“I’m okay, I was just…” You keep looking at him, and Jason’s skin prickles. Do you know? Can you tell?

Jason creaks like old wood, but he pulls back his right arm and puts his hand on the console, palm up. After a moment, you put your left overtop it. He can feel your pulse racing through the thin skin of your wrist.

He squeezes.

You squeeze back.

The day before Christmas, Jason still doesn’t know what to give Bruce. He’d hoped that baking would fix the block, but as he abuses the poor sopapilla dough, he’s no further to any answers.

You’re at the counter, offering moral support but not physical help. Jason’s a bit of a control freak in the kitchen when he’s anxious.

He’s not anxious. He’s not! It doesn’t matter if he gives Bruce something for Chrismukkah. Bruce doesn’t even celebrate Christmas. ‘Not trying to kill him’ is probably a good enough present.

Or the sopapillas. Sure, everyone’s bringing a dish, but no one said it couldn’t also be Jason’s present. But if he goes that route, then the pastries have to be perfect, and the last batch didn’t fluff up the way they did when Catherine made them.

“Jay,” you say after another five minutes of Jason punching dough that is already thoroughly kneaded.

“Yes, love?”

“I think the oil might be ready.”

Judging by the hiss and pops behind him, it is, and has been for several minutes.

Jason tries his best to follow his mother’s actions through his memory, but this batch doesn’t turn out right, either.

“Here,” he says wearily, placing the overflowing plate in front of you. “Let ‘em cool off.”

You wait as long as you can, fingers drumming on the counter as you watch tiny curls of steam drift up from the pile of pastries. Finally, you give in. “Oh my gosh,” you say around a mouthful that was a little too hot, judging by your wince. “Jay, these are amazing.”

“It’s not right, though,” he argues.

“Jay, I didn’t even think it was possible, but these are better than your last batch.”

He shakes his head stubbornly.

“Well, we’ll keep working on it,” you decide. “But really, if you bring these tomorrow, no one will complain. If they do…” You hold up a fist and shake it, mustering up (what you think is) a ferocious scowl.

Jason’s lips twitch. “What if Damian complains? Are you prepared to hit a child?”

“I can’t believe you would even ask me that,” you say. “I live in Gotham. I’ve been waiting for that moment my entire life.”

Despite himself, Jason laughs. He picks up one of the pastries from the dish and bites into it. They could have used more honey. Maybe that was the problem. But you’re right. These are good, and if they’re not, so what? It’s not like Bruce expects much from him anyway.

Jason’s chest squeezes.

Bruce should just be grateful that Jason is there at all.

Fuck.

It’s getting too hard to deny. Despite all his best efforts, Jason has to admit… maybe he does love his family.

It’s the first holiday season where he hasn’t been incandescent with rage toward one of them or another, and he’d underestimated just how nervous he would be. Despite everything that happened between them, he wants tomorrow to go well. The first night of Hanukkah is the same day as Christmas this year, which hasn’t happened for about twenty years. It’ll be Damian’s third Chrismukkah and the first where everyone is in attendance—Jason wasn’t on speaking terms with the family his first year, and Bruce was in the time stream and Tim was across the world last year.

“Hey, Jay.”

“Hmm.”

You swallow without making eye contact, and if he was paying even a little bit more attention, he would have known to prepare himself for what you said next.

“When are you gonna ask me to marry you?”

Jason is a selfish asshole. It’s a miracle that you haven’t figured that out yet after three years of dating him. He half-expects to come back to the apartment to find his stuff in bags. That’s the main reason he’s still out in the cold.

He’s in the middle of another drag when a teasing voice says from behind, “Ooh, must have been a rough day.”

Jason’s hand twitches for his gun, but he recognizes the voice. So he only rolls his eyes and says around the cigarette, “What do you want?”

“Your partner asked me to check up on you. Apparently you looked pretty freaked when you took off.”

Fuck. Jason groans. “How worried did they seem?”

“Ummm….”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah, you kind of messed up.” Spoiler sits next to him, dangles her legs over the side of the roof, and lets them swing idly. “Or they messed up. I thought you quit smoking?”

He exhales a thick plume of smoke. “I did,” Jason says. Dying from smoke inhalation was bad once, but a habit is a habit.

“If it makes you feel any better, they seemed more concerned about you. Not, like, mad or anything.”

Well, that’s something.

“So what happened?”

Jason grunts. Maybe if he stares into the horizon long enough, Spoiler will give up. That was the technique Batman always used when Robin asked the tough questions like, ‘Why am I going home early so you can interrogate Catwoman on your own?’

It only worked sometimes.

Unfortunately, Spoiler seems immune.

Jason grunts and drops the butt of his cigarette. He itches for another, but you’ll already wrinkle up your nose at the smell of one. And, shit, what are you even going to think about him high-tailing it out after that question, leaving for hours, and coming back stinking of smoke?

“I’m a fucking idiot. And an asshole.”

Spoiler huffs. “Everyone already knows that, dumbass. They certainly do.”

“Thanks,” Jason says drily.

“Anytime!” she chirps.

Her heels beat against the side of the building.

She’s not leaving anytime soon, so Jason sighs and gives in. “They asked when I was planning on proposing.”

Spoiler gasps and jumps to her feet. “Oh my God!”

“Yeah.”

“Oh my God!”

“Yep.”

“So you’re engaged?”

“What? No.”

“What?”

“They asked when I would propose. That wasn’t a proposal… I don’t think so. I mean, there wasn’t a ring,” Jason says helplessly.

Spoiler socks him in the shoulder.

“Ow!” Damn, but the girl can pack a punch. He rubs at the sore spot, scowling.

“You stupid idiot!”

“I know.”

“And you just ran away?”

Jason cringes and admits to his lap, “Yes.”

Spoiler hits him in the exact same spot on his shoulder.

“Goddamn it, stop that!”

“I’m going to kill you, Jason Peter Todd.”

“You could certainly try, Stephanie… Brown,” he shoots back.

“You don’t even know my middle name?”

“I don’t care about you.”

She lifts her fist again, but Jason twists out of the way before she can hit him a third time in the same shoulder. It’ll be bruised tomorrow.

“You don’t get it,” he says, balancing on the edge of the roof and feeling exceptionally unstable, even though he’s walked across ledges like this since he was twelve.

“What don’t I get? That you have an awesome partner waiting for you at home? One that wants to get married? One that—”

“One that has no idea who I am,” Jason hisses. He brandishes his helmet at the girl. “We’ve been together for three years. They have no idea that I’m the Red Hood. It made sense, at first; I can’t go around telling everyone I kiss what my identity is—”

“Right,” she scoffs sarcastically, “like you’re some kind of serial kisser, Todd. Half the city would know your identity if you did that.”

“Shut up,” Jason half-says, half-groans, and by some miracle, she does. “At first, obviously I couldn’t tell them. Then I wanted to keep waiting. I wanted to know that they were, you know, the one and everything.”

Spoiler fake-gags. Jason ignores her.

“And after that it was just too late. I waited too long. I can’t marry them unless they know about the mask, but who would agree to marry someone that’s been lying to them for three years? The entire time they’ve known me?”

“Huh,” says Spoiler.

‘Huh’ indeed.

“So I ran,” Jason says. “I don’t even know if I said anything. The next thing I knew, I was in the street with a pack of cigs and a lighter in my pocket. I came up here to smoke a couple before going back and ending things.”

“You—wait, ‘ending things?’” Spoiler’s head whips around, the white lenses of her domino widening. “What are you talking about?”

“I can’t lie to them,” says Jason. “When I go back, I’ll tell them the truth. And they’ll break up with me for lying for years. I was just trying to put it off.”

The worst thing was, he wasn’t even trying to lie for most of it. You took his excuses easily, believed him about a boxing gym membership to explain away the bruises, and never uttered a complaint about the odd hours he worked. Every time he was late to a date or canceled, you understood. Every time he forgot something important, odds were that you’d forgotten, too, without him to remind you.

All things considered, Jason might have found the single least curious person in all of Gotham, if you hadn’t figured it out after three years. But he’d gotten so comfortable that he’d forgotten that it was a secret, really. It had all rushed back in when he heard your words like a smack to the face, and he’d panicked.

“You don’t know that,” Spoiler says softly.

“Could you forgive someone for something like this?”

She stays silent, and that’s answer enough.

Jason huffs. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He reaches into his pocket, pulls out the pack of cigarettes and lighter, and considers them. Then he sighs and drops both on the ground. “Might as well get this over with.”

The cold Gotham air whips away the reek of smoke by the time he’s back at your apartment. Jason looks at the door like a condemned man looks at the gallows. He could sneak in through the window like he usually does, but he selfishly wants you to open the door for him. Show that he’s welcome now, even though he won’t be for long.

Seconds drag on like torturous minutes until he hears the familiar click of the lock. The door inches open with a screech.

Jason’s mouth goes dry at the sight of your wide eyes. “Hey, darling.”

Wordlessly, you open the door further and step aside to let him in.

Funny how a place he’s practically lived in can feel so unfamiliar. Jason shifts between feet as you re-lock your door.

The moment you turn around, he blurts out, “I’m sorry.”

You say the same thing.

“What?” Jason asks.

“You don’t need to apologize,” you say.

“No, I was an ass,” he insists. “I shouldn’t have left.”

“I didn’t mean to push you. I just saw you looking at rings, and we’ve talked about it, but still, marriage is a big step, so I wanted to be prepared,” you ramble. “I mean, we said that we could get married, but we never discussed when, or when the proposal would be—”

“Honey!”

You fall silent.

“Just wait,” Jason begs. He can’t stand any more of your endless understanding. You’ve only ever understood him, no matter what, and he’s going to miss it so much. He’s going to miss you so much. “Wait one second.” He retreats to the bedroom and returns a moment later with something clutched behind his back. Your eyes dart to the awkward way he’s contorted his arm.

Your face goes blank when he pulls out the spare helmet he keeps below your bed. He’d only used a domino when out with Spoiler, but that wouldn’t do for the grand reveal.

“I’m the Red Hood,” he says in a rush, then braces for your judgment.

You don’t react except to say, “Jason.”

He doesn’t understand. You’re not scared of the killer in your apartment. You’re not furious at the man that’s lied to you for three years. Obviously you don’t understand what he’s saying. “Honey, I’m the Red Hood. The vigilante.”

“Jay—”

You’re still just standing with no reaction. Jason holds the mask up so you’re making eye contact with it.

You push it out of the way and cradle his face with both your hands. “Jason Peter Todd, look at me,” you command.

Jason holds your gaze. It’s the last time he’ll ever be so close to you, and he never wants to forget what your presence feels like.

“Jay, I’ve known basically the whole time.”

What.

Jason blinks.

“What?”

“I already knew.”

“Honey, I don’t think you understand what I’m saying. I’m the—”

“Red Hood, yes, I know.” You muster up a tremulous smile. “And Bruce is Batman. Dick is Nightwing. Steph is Spoiler, Damian is Robin, Tim is—”

“Oh my God, you knew? How did you know?”

“Jason. My love. My darling. My honey bunchkin.” You give him a mildly scolding look. “I’m not an idiot.”

Jason’s ears heat. “And you’re not… mad?”

“That you’re the Red Hood?” You cock your head. “Of course not. I worry about you, of course. But you have to do it. I know that. Or am I mad that you tried to keep it a secret for three years?” You press your lips together to hide a growing smile. “No. I’m not mad about that either. You can’t exactly go around telling your secret identity to everyone you kiss. It’s just something I had to figure out on my own.”

“You knew,” Jason marvels. “You knew this whole time.”

“Most of the whole time,” you say. “But yes.”

“Oh my God.” Jason’s moving before he can stop himself, and he wraps you up in his arms and spins you around. “I thought you would hate me,” he confesses, still clutching you like his life depends on it. “When I finally told you.”

A soft hand runs through his hair. “Is that why you ran?” you ask softly.

“Yes. I’m so sorry, honey, I just—”

“I get it,” you interrupt.

“You were scared.”

A thought occurs to Jason with such clarity he nearly drops you. “Wait, so you were going to marry me even after you knew about the mask?”

“Of course,” you say. “I love you, Jay. Mask and all.”

“I don’t have a ring.”

“I don’t need one. Don’t you get it? I only need you.”

“I only need you, too.”

“Good.”

“Good,” Jason agrees, and he probably looks like a fool with his wide grin, but you can’t stop smiling either. He dips his head, and you rise up to press your lips to his, even though with both your grins you end up clicking teeth.

“Good,” you repeat.

“Good,” Jason says, just for good measure, and this time he makes sure the kiss is better. Lightning shoots up his spine and he pulls back to ask, “Wait, are we engaged now?”

“Um… yes?”

“That’s awesome.”

Your smile is so wide that your eyes nearly close. Jason’s pretty sure he looks the same as he sweeps you up and spins you around. You fit perfectly into his arms. He’s never going to let you go.

“My fianceé,” he says fondly. “I’m never going to get tired of saying that.”

“I’m marrying you,” you marvel, sweeping your thumb over his mouth. “I have the prettiest husband-to-be in the whole world.”

“I love you,” Jason confesses. “So much.”

“I love you, too.”

Seconds before your mouths meet for another kiss, Jason’s phone buzzes. On the off-chance it’s an important alert, he pulls it out, but it’s just Spoiler asking for an update.

Jason stows the device. “I have an idea.”

“Yeah?”

“I think I know how to make the sopapillas the right way.”

“Oh? And how’s that?”

It turns out that Jason’s right.

Making them with your help turns out to be what was missing the whole time.

DC Taglist

@evalynanne @mismatchsposts @cliosunshine @fictionalwhor3 @bellathecatastrophe @lonely-star2044 @flanhog

My inbox is open! Stop by to request something or just to say hi!

[logaenhowlett]

THE WHOLE WIDE WORLD IN HER HANDS - L.H.

Summary: After months of watching you relentlessly try to gain control of your powers, Logan finally takes matters into his own hands.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female Reader

Warnings: Fluff - so much damn fluff, Slight angst, Language

A/N: Suffering from writer's block on a plot-driven angsty Logan fic so I wrote this to focus on something else. Shout out to End by Frank Ocean. Enjoy!

MASTERLIST

“You’ve been going at it for hours.”

His voice makes you pause, shifting your concentration to the man leaning against the door frame. Logan watches as you swing your head down, possibly frustrated by his interruption.

“Professor said I’d get better at this,” You swipe the sweat off your face, grabbing your drenched shirt as it clings to your skin, “It’s been months and I'm nowhere near strong enough.”

He huffs in amusement, he would often catch you in moments like these, tiring yourself hour after hour till you were exhausted enough to finally pass out. It reminds him of his early days at this place. Young and eager to prove himself to everyone here, that he was capable of being good once again.

“Old man doesn’t know what he’s talkin’ about.” A measly attempt to shut down your self-deprecation, he knows nothing will convince you otherwise, that much he learned over the last few times he tried reasoning with you. When you shoot him a questioning glance, he relents, raising his hands up in defense. “Alright. But you’re not doing any good wearing yourself to the bone.”

“I just want to be like Storm and Scott and you.” 

“Well, if that’s the case, the bar ain’t that high.” A teasing grin shining as he approaches you, the annoyed expression on your face does little to stop him. “Come with me.”

“What?”

He chuckles at your confusion, wandering dangerously close into your personal space. “I wanna show you something,” He murmurs.

Flirting isn’t a new concept to him at all. Though you never get used to his attempts, always brushing it off with the assumption that it’s just a game.

“Logan - I need to keep practicing.” You take a few steps back, creating a little distance from his very distracting presence. “It’s the only way I’ll get better at controlling this.”

“Okay.” He drags out, “You can still keep doing this when we come back.”

As you contemplate his request, he knows he has you convinced, a grin tugging on his lips. “Come on. It’ll be fun.”

When he leads you to the mansion's garage, you recall all the times he'd whisked you away from moments of misery and fatigue. He seemed to have this innate ability to know when you're in over your head, too absorbed into whatever you were doing to take a step back and relax. A tinge of embarrassment creeps into your thoughts, feeling bad for him to constantly keep checking in as if you were incapable of knowing your limits. Fuck, I'm a mess. You snap yourself from going down the negative route, shifting your focus to Logan, a chuckle escapes you.

“You know he hates it when you steal his bike, right?”

He swings a leg over, revving the engine. The sound seems to unintentionally comfort you, your mind having subconsciously associated it with him. Despite Scott being the owner of vehicle, he rarely saw it since it was Logan’s choice of transportation. Fucking dickhead, he used to curse up and down, unwillingly giving up after Charles reasoned with him one too many times. You remember the entire ordeal, having to intervene during one of their many childish fights when Scott attempted to blow up Logan’s ass.

“I’ll fill up the tank.”

“No, you won’t.” A short laugh leaves you as you wrap your arms around him.

He flashes a smile, tilting his head back to ensure you’re properly seated. “No, I won’t.”

You hardly pay attention to his driving, instead mindlessly watching the scenery zip past. It wasn't the first time Logan had taken you on a ride. In fact, after the initial fear, you had grown fond of this time you got share with him. A quiet and peaceful journey where you could turn your restless mind off and simply enjoy each other's company. An unspoken vow of trust had always lingered between you two, which was something he cherished more than he could ever express. He smiles softly at the weight of you resting on his back as the breeze encompasses around you.

“How’d you even find this place?” You ask, sliding off the seat as he kicks the stand.

“Used it for shelter during that snowstorm a while ago. The bike gave out on me.”

You hum in response, spinning on your feet to look around. It's an abandoned gas station that had definitely seen better days. Despite all the damage and vandalisation, it was an oddly interesting location, a lake nearby overlooking lush fields. Nothing in Logan's expression gives away his intention of bringing you here. He slowly steps backwards, a hint of a smirk tugging his lips and when he's a decent distance away, “Hit me.”

“What?”

“Use your power, sweetheart. Don’t be scared, you can do it.” It's rather encouraging and not at all akin to his usual cocky tone.

“Logan - what, no!” You exclaim, finding his proposal ridiculous. “I’m not - I can’t even fully control it. What if I hurt you?”

He scoffs, amused you could even suggest such a thing, “Well, you’re gonna have to control it, aren’t ya?” When you make no attempt to try, his gaze softens, “I can take it.”

You take a deep breath, channelling your focus to create a ball of energy between your hands. Despite being small, it hits him with enough force to push him back a few steps. A groan leaves him as he clutches his stomach, you shift to run towards him but he lifts his hand, making you stop.

“Again. Don’t hold back.”

This time you think of Charles, remembering all the lessons and training sessions you've had with him. Where you had always doubted yourself, he had constantly reassured you and your ability to control your gift. The ball of energy grows more between your hands, crackling with intensity. Using all your might, you aim at Logan once again, hitting him square in the chest, thrusting him back several feet, the impact denting the ground in the process. He stands up feeling a bit lightheaded, though that sensation disappears as he flexes his muscles, grateful for his healing factor.

“I did it!” You laugh in surprise, running to him.

His arms immediately wrap around you, slightly lifting you off the ground. “You did it,” He says with a faint smile, taking in your satisfaction.

Caught up in moment of finally making progress, you notice the lack of space between Logan and you. And suddenly, his hands on your waist, his tender expression, it all becomes too much, making you pull back. “You’re insane. That could’ve gone so wrong,” You spit out, trying to relieve some tension.

“I trust you.” He whispers, softly.

Your body seems to be on fire, everything about this begins to overwhelm your senses. With a shaky breath, you try stepping away from his gentle grip.

“Why do you always run from me?” His words still your movements. His eyes can't seem to find yours, instead settling on the charred ground beneath him, "I know… you feel this too.”

“I’m - I don’t…”

“Let me in, sweetheart. I won’t run away.” He approaches you, giving you the space to reject his advances. ”I promise.”

When you don't respond, he hangs his head low, accepting your decision. “Let’s go home,” He mumbles.

As you walk down the hallway to your room, you can't seem to shake the urge to run back to him. You take a moment, hand grasping your doorknob before you spin around. Within seconds of knocking on his door, he swings it open catching your distinct heartbeat on the other side.

“Logan - I just…” The words die on your tongue. Every little feeling you'd held for him comes rushing forward. As he stands there, growing concerned for your wellbeing, all you can think about is kissing him till the air leaves your lungs.

“You okay?”

That's enough for you to slam into him. You grab the collar of his white shirt, pulling him down. Your lips find his own, slowly moving against the soft flesh. It takes him less than a second to comprehend what's happening before he reciprocates your actions.

You tilt your head back, inhaling his comforting scent. He continues peppering kisses on your face, unable to stop once he finally got a taste. “I'm sorry, I was scared. I am scared,” You whisper.

“I know. But I’m here for you. I’m always gonna be here for you.” He murmurs against your lips, “If you let me.”

Your smile sends flutters to his heart. His low chuckle echoes within you as he leans down, capturing your lips with a hunger he'd suppressed for as long as he could remember. When your moan teases his senses, he lifts you with ease, one arm securing your waist and the other gently stroking the underside of your thigh. He lowers you down onto the bed, noting your exhaustion from earlier. Sliding right next to you, he presses a light kiss on your temple, pulling you into his warm embrace. A silent promise that he'll never let you go.

[5sospenguinqueen]

Team Betrayal | Red Bull! Reader x Platonic! Grid

Summary: Y/N Y/L/N races for Red Bull but when she's caught out drinking another brand, she enacts her revenge until the Grid outs her snitched.

Apologies but this is a female reader.

Warning: Bad writing. I'm not sure what this is but it was prompted between an energy drink dilemma I had the other day.

There is no timeline for this. Make it up.

Main Masterlist.

━━━━━━ ༻𖥸�� ━━━━━━

Swiping away the sweat that ran down the back of her neck, Y/N grinned at the camera, drinking in the euphoric energy enveloping her on all sides.

"Thank you for joining us after such a long day." The interviewer beamed, pleased to have been able to catch the Red Bull racer before debrief started. "How're you feeling? You look absolutely drenched."

"Yes. Max thought he was funny tipping the entire can of Red Bull over my head. I'll wash my hair three times and still go home smelling of the stuff." Y/N joked, dabbing the drop of sticky liquid rolling down her forehead.

Pleased that the conversation had naturally developed down that path, the interviewer smirked at the camera before turning their attention back to you. "So, you've been driving for Red Bull for 2 years now? Is it safe to say you're also a big fan of the drink?"

She laughed nervously, unsure why such an odd question was being asked after a Grand Prix. Usually the media used this opportunity to ask how she felt about losing/her teammate winning. Again. "Who isn't?" Y/N joked.

Whipping out her phone, the interviewer (dressed in traitorous McLaren orange) thrust it in front of her face. The grin from Y/N's face instantly dropped as she squinted against the blinding sun. Disbelief painted her face.

"Where did you get that? That's actually me!"

"One of your fellow racers provided it earlier." The interviewer informed, tucking away the damning photo of Y/N drinking a can of Monster Energy, dressed in her Red Bull racing suit and attempting to hide her behaviour behind a laughing Lando Norris.

"Who?!"

"I'm afraid we're not at liberty to say. We promised confidentiality in favour of the photo," teased the interviewer.

"That's my face." Y/N's eyes darkened challengingly. She leaned into the microphone, staring down the camera. "In that case, those boys won't know a moment of peace until I get my answer."

She straightened just as soon after, smile flickering back into place as she heard her name being called. "Oops, I was meant to be in debrief a minute again. Thanks for talking to me. Catch you later!"

"Thank you for your time." The interviewer called after the retreating navy figure. She turned back to the camera. "Ladies and Gentleman, I think it's safe to say that Y/N Y/L/N is as ferocious off the track as she is on it. I don't know about you but I would not want to be a member of the Grid this evening."

━━━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━━━

The interview went viral.

YourUserName this you? (She retweeted with a pic of Lando wearing a Monster Energy hat, a can of Red Bull in hand)

→ LandoNorris no.

User 1 not Lando deliberately lying about his own face

User 2 oh, no. Lando. What have you started?

User 3 not me checking my phone every 2 seconds to see if Y/N has posted after she vowed vengence.

→ Your User Name 👀👀

User 4 don't drag poor Maxie into this. He's always seen drinking Red Bull.

User 5 she never was good enough for the team, hope they drop her after this.

User 6 may as well just go to McLaren with how much time she spends with them.

OscarPiastri just a warning. I can hear her laughing evilly next door.

YourUserName so just to clear a few things up. I have never bought a Monster Energy in my life.

YourUse Name i am always supplied with them by people who are attempting to remain innocent in this scandal.

PierreGASLY yeah, well. My shoes are cleaner than yours so...

→ LandoNorris you sure showed her.

User 7 not the Grid coming for my girl only to end up fighting for their lives.

User 8 coming for his teammate

User 9 not the whole Grid teasing her for betraying Red Bull

User 10 always knew Max didn't like them. This just confirms

YourUserName not you too. You said you had my back

→ Max33Verstappen this is why you didn't get on the podium

Max33Verstappen not my babies?!

→ YourUserName i may not have a podium but I do have your cats.

→ Charles_Leclerc you're making this worse for yourself

→ YourUserName watch out or Leo's next

→ Charles_Leclerc *horrified gasp*

User 11 alex fighting for his innocence.

User 12 the Grid are feeding us tonight.

User 13 what's the odds that they're fighting for their lives in the gc?

User 14 bet they're compiling a list of times they gave her Monster

→ User 15 trying to figure out who might be next

User we found the snitch

User 2 anyone else see Red Bull lurking in the likes?

LandoNorris @ danielricciardo this is why she didn't respond

Max33Verstappen daniel's currently crying.

redbullracing christian said you have a meeting with PR tomorrow.

→ YourUserName crap.

User 3 can we take a moment to appreciate all the Grid content we got this evening?

→ User 4 and look at how quick Y/N's responses were. Boo was ready for them.

→ User 5 what are the odds they were all sitting next to their phones, terrified every time it buzzed

→ lilymhe can confirm.

[pinkmirth]

KEEPER!

SYNOPSIS! ⸻ you’ve fallen for your darling bodyguard, and you’re over the moon to discover that he feels the same. but this feels borderline forbidden . . . for just how long can you keep what you have with reiner under wraps?

CONTAINS⸻ ( 5k+ words of . . . ) bodyguard!reiner x fem!reader (black coded), fluff, nsfw, modern au, scion!reader (descending from a rich family/influential bloodline), hyperfeminine ‘girly-girl’ reader, reiner’s german, mutual pining, secret relationship / sneaky link, public display of affection (pda), food play, car sex (unprotected), slight dacryphilia, creampie, use of pet names ( e.g. mama, baby, honey, princess), reader calls reiner ‘ papa, ’ explicit language, lowercase intended, minors shoo!

MY LOVE LETTER! ⸻ this post is an answer to an anonymous ask: ‘ what about secret dates (turned sneaky links) with body guard! reiner??? ’ oh. my. goodness! nonnie, you’re a sexy genius and you should know it. tagging the amazing @ramonathinks! she’s the one who even introduced this bodyguard!rei-rei concept to me, and for that i’m so grateful :) ramona my love, thank you again for all the delicious reiner thoughts you always send my way! now enjoy, xoxo ♡︎

reiner’s your bulking shadow, never trailing too far behind.

he’s been hired by your parents to ensure your safety. nothing more, nothing less. he’ll follow your every step and drive you wherever you please; after all, it’s what he’s paid to do.

things started off the way they should— professional. from the very beginning, reiner knew to keep his distance, and that he did. but he soon realized just how hard that would become . . . you’re effortlessly gorgeous, sharp with your words and caring to a fault. his growing affection was only a matter of time.

nowhere on the criteria for the job does it say that he should be developing feelings. observing your habits, committing them to memory and predicting your behavior is the only thing he’s got any business doing. yet, he loves to feel the softness of your palm in his hand when he helps you into the backseat of your car, even if the contact is just for a split second at most. he finds himself peeking glances at you from the rearview mirror, soaking in how pretty you look when you’re unaware of his gaze. in truth, reiner wishes you didn’t have such an effect on him; that would make work-life much easier on his poor soul. well, love isn’t known for being simple, now is it?

it takes about four weeks on the job for him to grow a soft spot for you. reiner’s always been a hopeless romantic, oh-so quick to fall. he’d willingly lay down his life for the sake of your own, and not just because he’s getting a paycheck for it. thanks to the job description, his devoutness isn’t questioned.

before long, reiner can tell you’re becoming attached to him as well. on a fateful night, he even overhears the phone call between you and your friend, something about ‘ mister braun being so sexy that it hurts . . . ’ your bodyguard is nothing if not a man of dignity. he never meant to eavesdrop! it’s just that he's stationed outside your room for night patrol. he’s now especially glad about being up at five in the morning; he wouldn’t have been able to hear this otherwise. your confessions pry a subtle grin from his lips. there he stands, smiling to himself in the dimly lit hallway where nobody can see him blush like a schoolboy.

‘ nuh-uh, i can’t! that man works for my parents . . . he’s completely off-limits. it's a damn shame, isn’t it? ’ you release a sigh, one so exasperated that he can hear it through the other end of the door. call reiner crazy, but it sounds to him like you’re yearning to have him all to yourself. in a sudden moment, you're emerging from the room, donned in a tiny pink nightgown. cute, but thin as fuck. leaves nothing to the imagination, even. it’s the flimsiest thing he's ever seen you wear.

reiner’s cheeks burn so red that is downright embarrassing, thankfully you're unable to see him. he’s quick to lift his head and look towards the ceiling instead— much more suitable than ogling the tits of his very own client. you wouldn’t be able to catch him staring regardless, considering how the entire corridor’s tainted with darkness, but he wouldn’t dare try to steal a peek anyway.

what he can see, though, is your leisurely smile as you tell him you’re headed to the kitchen to grab a cool glass of water.

“would you like to escort me there too, mister braun? or can i go do something by myself for once?”

you’re playing with him, he realizes. just mere teasing meant to be absolutely harmless. your voice sounds much sweeter at this hour; soft and casual, coated lightly with fatigue from a busy day’s schedule.

“as long as we’re indoors, you can go anywhere you like, madam.” says reiner, “i’ll be here if you need me.”

you make your way to the refrigerator, prancing down the mansion’s luxe spiral staircase, and reiner’s rampant heart finally begins to calm. he wonders if you’d meant for him to hear you on that call. (by now, he knows just how cheeky you can be; it was definitely purposeful.) nevertheless, he's got a job to keep. neither your mother or father would respond kindly if they were to find out that he's become attached to you, or vice versa. he can hardly imagine playing the boyfriend when in reality, he’s supposed to be making sure nothing suspicious comes anywhere near a mile-long radius of you . . . it’s laughable! he’s sure your parents have more than enough money to make him disappear in the blink of an eye— that chilling fact alone puts him on his best behavior.

reiner decides to conceal it; the way he feels for you. keeps his back straight and arms folded to portray the unapproachable persona that got him hired in the first place. you eventually decide to question him over why he so-often wears that solid expression, ‘ like he doesn’t know how to smile, ’ is how you put it. it’s the very first time that you ever hear him laugh, and you turn out to like the sound. rumbly and full of bass. he couldn’t bring himself to admit that in every waking moment, it takes everything to suppress his smile whenever he sees you.

eight months of being in his company brings you to notice that reiner’s a decent listener. he makes for a great conversation, too. sure, he’s just your bodyguard, but he’s got a good ear and a smooth voice. your talks with him are always so lovely; he gives you the comfort to open up about things you’d never be able to tell your parents. pride washes over him when you admit that he’s the only one you genuinely trust. and in these moments, reiner allows himself to get vulnerable too. he tells you of his love for football as a youth, how he takes combat classes five times a week, and that he’s got tons of sisters, brothers and cousins back home in the countryside. the pair of you are so different that the contrast could almost be considered terrible. though, the longer you stay in each other’s presence, the less you can bring yourselves to care.

you and your bodyguard have grown . . . close, to say the least. the way you’re always latching onto his brawny form seems much more than friendly, especially to your parents. ‘ i feel secure with him! ’ is your claim. they’d beg to differ, but your wellbeing is enough to keep them satisfied. reiner excels at his job, and more importantly, the big blonde lug makes you happy. nobody they’ve hired in the past was ever able to get in your good graces; you utterly hated all your former bodyguards. they were much too controlling, lingered too close.

but mister braun was able to differentiate himself. he listens to your dreams and fears alike, treats you like a capable woman instead of some spoiled brat. it also doesn’t hurt that he’s incredibly easy on the eyes . . .

reiner can no longer take it. the woman of his dreams is right in front of him, and there’s not a damn thing he can do about it. the smoothest advance he can make is standing at your right side and slinking an arm around your waist, with claims of it being for your ‘protection.’ but the both of you know it’s only the proximity he’s chasing after. the way he looms beside you was always more self-indulgent than it was for safety. he just liked the closeness of it all.

he feels so much for you, and he’s virtually dying to tell you. but there’s countless reasons why he shouldn’t— particularly the risk of losing his job. every now and again, reiner chooses to be a little bit stupid, all consequences be damned. he works up the nerve to release his confession with slow and careful words. you quickly reciprocate, arms thrown around the back of his neck and tugging him into a cozy hug. he takes you by the waist and pulls you closer in— god, he’s been wanting to do this for so long. reiner hums when your manicured fingers ghost his nape, nails grazing the ends of his hair, with your tits pressed to his own chest. the pair of you fit better than he ever could’ve imagined.

you don’t know whether to call yours and reiner’s relationship ‘ official ’ — can it really be deemed as such when you’re the only ones who know? you dare not mention this to your parents, ‘cause he’s got a job to keep and you couldn’t possibly bear him not being around.

so, you’ve both decided that it’ll be a secret. shared only between you and him, so nobody’s able to intervene. dating your bodyguard is fun— brief kisses being shared when you’re the only ones in the room. the way he snugly hooks his arm around your body when escorting you feels tighter, a little more intimate. in a way, keeping things under wraps feels exhilarating.

your particular relation with mister braun isn’t verified to the outside world, but people are catching on. whenever you go out, reiner’s sure to follow. paparazzi-taken photos of you are occasionally uploaded to the internet, and it’s always a given that he’ll be included. after several months of being seen together time after time, it’s typical of people to assume that this so-called ‘ bodyguard ’ of yours is more of a boyfriend. they aren’t too far off, but you clearly won’t go out of your way to confirm their suspicions. you’re always captured in a picture of you clinging onto his burly arm with a glossy smile. your sweet expressions contrast nicely with his forever-furrowed brows. he’s handsome in this intimidating way, the tabloids say.

it’s a slow-moving thursday when reiner decides to take you on your first date with him. he waits a good hour and forty-five minutes for you to get ready. he’s used to this, of course. by now, he’s got nearly a year’s experience of waiting on you hand and foot. but tonight, his nerves get the best of him. you finish up when he least expects you to— for fuck’s sake, you even catch him pacing in the goddamn kitchen. the sight of you melts his concerns, just a little. you’re done up glamorously from head to toe, and reiner can’t contain his smile, nor hold back his stare. your light lashes are curled and wispy, with blush scattered along your cheekbones. your plush lips are pink with tint, and you’ve got on this figure-hugging outfit that he’d love to tear off of you.

you scan your surroundings, peering at every angle of your spacious home in search of your parents. after ensuring the coast is clear, you engulf him in your arms, wishing you could kiss him but you’re all dolled up and your lips are lined and glossed. reiner nuzzles his nose into the crook in your neck, inhaling faint traces of your most beloved vanilla parfum.

“god, you look so fuckin’ beautiful,” his whisper is soft against your warm flesh. you rub your hands along his broad shoulders, then slide them down his firm biceps. “and you look sexy in black,” you perk up at him, eyes round and gleaming. he loves you, he’s come to realize. and the last thing he wants is to screw this up . . .

he’s thinking too damn much. you can easily tell. it’s obvious in the way his thin blonde brows wire downwards like something’s wrong.

“reiner . . . stop it.” you order, voice serious. you only ever speak that way when you want his utmost attention. to that, he fixes his posture and stands tall as if he’s on patrol.

“stop what?” is his vague response, hands loosely positioned at either one of your hips. you lift your palms to cup his face, feeling the definition of his high cheekbones and firm jawline beneath your fingertips. he’s gorgeous, you think.

“for one, you’re clenching your teeth,” you mention, caressing his rigid jaw line until the tightness lessens. his stubble’s rough and scratchy, but it fits him so damn well. “and you’re frowing, baby.” next, your thumbs trail up to his brows, gently kneading at the creased arch. “relax.”

“m’sorry,” reiner lets out, tone low and pleading. his hands rub at your sides in an anxious pattern. “it’s jus’ that you’re so important to me . . . i wanna do this right, y’know?”

“i bet you will, rei. no need to worry, hm?” you shoot him a soft smile, and he returns it; one of the rare times you catch a glimpse of his nice and shiny teeth. “now show me a good time, papa.”

right before taking your leave , your parents have questions for you— almost too many. you don’t have any business meetings or mall trips on your schedule, so where on earth is he taking you to? rei-rei claims that he’s bringing you to a new restaurant that you’ve been meaning to try. he’ll drive you there and stay on patrol; or so he says. they decide not to question the unusually neat way his blonde hair is slicked back, or how his black dress-shirt and slacks look sharper than usual. hell, he smells amazing too. it can’t be denied that mister braun cleans up nicely.

see, reiner told a partial truth to your family. you’re on your way to a new german restaurant that’s about twelve minutes out, it’s just that you wanted to try it out with him in particular. on the drive there, you just can’t seem to restrain yourself from gazing at the man. reiner looks so put together like this, in a strapping black outfit that‘s snug against his arms, chest and thighs. his side profile’s flawless— he’s got a perfectly defined nose that slopes down to his lips, and you yearn to lick on his protruding adam’s apple. he’s got one hand on the wheel, merging into lanes and making u-turns, while the other that’s unoccupied intertwines with your softer, smaller one.

upon reaching a red light, he takes the opportunity to lift your hand up to his face, trailing his lips along the back of it. “lieblich . . .” he murmurs something in his native tongue that you can’t seem to understand, though you know its meaning is a sweet one. your grin makes him forget all about the risk he’s taking.

upon reaching your destination, reiner’s back in bodyguard-mode. that’s how he gets whenever you’re in public. yes, you’re on a date, but your safety will forever be his number one priority. he escorts you in with a large hand fit snugly into the small dip of your back as he confirms the reservation. his touch never leaves you, not even for a second. he does that thing; where he takes a brief one-over of the area, scrutinizing his environment before making the next move. you go one, two, three stories up, to the VIP floor where your dinner seats reside.

it’s a lot, he knows— the velvet floors, fancy cream-white seats and glass-like walls that showcase an aweing view of the city. you’re more than used to the finer things in life, so the only thing he wants to give you is what you deserve.

you’re raving on about how nice everything looks, leaning back into your seat as you sip on a flute of sheer-pink rosé. he’s relieved to know that he was able to make you smile tonight. a waiter presents themselves, and reiner effortlessly engages with them in german conversation. his words are smooth and fluid as he translates all the entrée and sides you asked for. even when placing a simple order, he’s still the sexiest man on earth. would now be a bad time to kiss the hell out of him?

the next three hours go by quick. you’re chatting and laughing and trying bits of each other’s platters ( though, it's mostly you eating a over half of the food from his plate . . . ) you got yourself salted-caramel ice cream for dessert, and reiner’s mischievous enough to lean close and lick the dripping residue off the corner of your lips. you gasp at him and deliver a playful kick to his foot from under the table.

“what? you had somethin’ there.” is the given excuse for his rascal behavior. naughtiness twinkles in his golden-brown eyes. there aren’t many people up here on the expensive floor, apart from two other occupied tables located on the other end of the room, and a handful of waiters that leave the kitchen every now and again. he’s lucky there isn’t anyone to catch you both.

“you’re crazy,” your laugh is infectious, “don’t make me return the favor.”

in a quick motion, reiner swipes a finger into the ice cream, his touch meeting a subtle cold. before the caramel gets the chance to melt all the way down the length of his digit, he smears some across his bottom lip. his tongue juts out to lick up the rest of the treat from his index finger.

“oh, please do.”

being away from probing eyes has made reiner bold as ever. you take him up on his request, tilting forward so that your tongue can eagerly swipe over his lips and wipe them clean. mostly sweet, just the tiniest bit salty. you want more of him already.

there’s isn’t a soul watching, so reiner escalates it. in an instant he’s got your lips merging, his hand squeezing your thigh from under the table, hot puffs of air escaping you both. “oh my god— you’re g’na get me in trouble, rei!”

“so be it,” reiner mumbles in reply, his words ticklish against your lips. from underneath his fingertips, reiner senses how tightly you press your thighs together, hungry for friction. he’s even beginning to feel worked up himself. but, the pair of you haven’t gone that far yet. the most you’ve done are hour-long makeout sessions on your king-sized bed in the earliest points of the day, when you have enough privacy to get away with it. but you wouldn’t mind feeling him in a new way tonight . . .

“you wanna get out of here, don’t you, mama?” reiner coos, cheeks rosier with his eyes slightly lidded. “mhm,” you’re quick to agree. so he puts the payment for the meal on his tab, takes your hand in his and leads you back down to floor one until you’re out of the building and back inside your window-tinted g-wagon.

mister braun is big. you’ve always known it from his appearance alone, but fuck, it holds a much greater meaning when he’s got you tucked into the backseat of your mercedes with his slacks pulled down to his ankles and your dress strewn sideways, making a slow attempt to press himself into you.

“fuck. let me in, princess,” reiner’s grunt is low, throaty enough to make you clench. your flesh feels hot and your pussy’s leaking all over the coffee-brown suede seats. he knows well enough to play around with your clit, reveling in the noises you make when his pressure increases. simultaneously, his lips suction at the smooth flesh of your neck. it feels like you’re burning up, and he’s the only one who can quench your fire.

experimentally, his hips tilt forward, and another two inches make its way in. he’s only got his fat tip and then some past that dripping hole of yours, but it’ll take much more to stretch you wide open for him. he’s groaning and muttering all sorts of profanities— about how tight you are, how good you feel, how fucking nasty this is of you.

“c’mon, woman,” reiner sucks a sharp breath into his lungs, goading you on, “lemme fuck this tight pussy.” he’s got you dangerously aroused, done by the effort of a few dirty words. wetness dribbles down from your slit to the place you and reiner carnally join, slicking up his girthy shaft as he continues to break himself past your tight rings of muscle. you claw at his solid arms, basking in the stretch. his size is imposing, forcing you open to accommodate all of him. it burns in the best way possible.

“m—more, papa,” you make out a pretty whine, knowing just how he loves your begging. you’ve got your lips agape, kissed raw from reiner’s earlier advances. you grow restless and begin to rock your hips, aching to take the entirety of him.

“mm, don’t worry, baby. i’ll give it to you so good,” it takes a little more of reiner bucking his pelvis, movements careful and shallow, for him to finally make it in. he’s bottomed out, and you can feel the throbbing from his underside. having you wrapped around him feels so incredibly right. you clench rapidly, enveloping him in an incomparable warmth.

by the time he’s made everything fit, you’re a darling little mess. your hair’s gotten frizzy and your eyes are all big ‘n glassy, with your lower lip tucked underneath your teeth. one moan after another escapes you, streaming into his ears like liquid gold. reiner throbs at the sound of every little mewl. he licks away your tears which you hadn’t even known began to fall, catching them before they can roll down the apples of your cheeks. you love the feeling, it’s just that there’s so much of him to handle at once— his fat cock, searing-hot tongue, large roaming hands . . . he's this close to consuming you whole, and you want him to.

reiner’s attentive with the way he fucks you. out, in, the pattern goes, hips drawing back before he slams back into your shaking frame all over again. he hits so unbelievably deep every time, like the width of him can’t help but prod against every spot you have. he manages to stimulate every inch of your walls, bumping every crook and ridge possible. not a part of you goes unattended to. reiner dips his head low to catch your beaded nipple between his lips, while his cock drives further inside and impels you to make more room, just for him.

as gentle as he may try to be, reiner’s undeniably a hefty man. taking it slow won’t make any difference; every deep plunge he makes into your cunt has the car creaking on its very own wheels.

“i fuckin’ love you,” he drops the heated words, punctuated with drilling thrusts; but the dick’s got you goin’ all dumb on him. it’s cute, he can’t deny, but reiner needs you to know exactly what you mean to him. so he grips at your chin from either side and lightly squeezes your cheeks together, tender with care but steady enough to make your eyes uncross and focus on him alone.

“you hear me? i— goddamnit, love you more than anything. love you so much,” the deeper he pushes in, the less you can manage to breathe. you feel the pulsing of his cock in your tummy, and it’s like the tip snags so deep that it nearly lingers in your throat. you feel yourself bounce against the seat, tits jiggling whenever he sinks inside, draws out, and snaps right back into you. your gut feels tightly wound up, and your pussy’s become impossibly more sensitive.

you’re close, he can feel it. your walls flutter with more ardor than before, squishing against the base of him with a tightness gratifying enough to spur moans from deep within his chest. you even bring your hands down to claw at his asscheeks, firm and round to the touch; the perfect source of leverage.

“r— reiner!” you cry out to him, and he’s sure his name hasn’t sounded so good up until now. he wonders if you can actually hear yourself and just how slutty you sound. “you’re close, aren’t you, baby?” to that you nod, head bobbing desperately. you don’t have to tell him, he knows. reiner’s knowledge is keen on the topic of you. what you like, what you don’t, and when you’ve had enough. now he’s truly taking his sweet time getting to know you from the inside out.

he presses a consoling peck to your forehead, maintaining that undoing pace of his. the repetitive ‘plat’ of his heavy balls smacking into your sticky cunt is dull compared to the huffing, panting and whining, but it’s there in all its vulgarity.

“ooh, i know exactly what y’need, princess. papa’s g’na take care of you . . . ” reiner doesn’t even say it above a whisper, just declares his devotion in the softest way he can. he slips a hand down the middle of your sweat-streaked bodies to bring some attention back to your precious clit, lewdly slick and much puffier than earlier. he gives swift strokes using the pads of his fingers, combined with the fluid roll of his hips, until you're arching into his broad chest and snapping your quivering thighs closed, trapping his wrist in between them.

reiner can unravel you with such ease, like he lives for the sole purpose of your pleasure and nothing else. you convulse against him, so he slows. but reiner hardly lets up. not completely, that way he’s able to ride you through it. he continues on, feeding you shallow thrusts to near his own high. his movements turn borderline erratic; thighs trembling, cock throbbing. he’s so close, “gonna cum,” his warning comes off as a groan, straight from the depths of his gut, erotic and primal. he’s clenching his teeth again— this time, for good reason. “where do y’want me?”

not a second is wasted before you plead, ‘ inside! ’ and with that, you’ve officially fucking broken him. never did he think his wildest dream would’ve come true by the very first date. lucky mister braun, getting to fill you up— especially when it’s what he’s been stroking himself to the thought of every other night. now, you’re practically crying for him to give it all to you. undoubtedly, he will.

he comes through one final, sloppy jerk of his hips. with a breathy grunt released into the car’s stuffy atmosphere , his warm seed spurts into you, tainting your womb. once reiner slips out, his thick cum pours down to present the most obscene view. it’s all so slippery, seeping down until there’s a wet puddle of your and his making beneath your ass. reiner’s body goes lax, thoughtfully balancing himself over you with his face propped onto your boobs. it’s only now that he realizes, legs cramped up, that he’s a bit too large for the backseat.

“ . . . i meant what i said earlier.” reiner’s voice comes off muffled, with his face stuffed between your tits and all. he looks adorable this way, gazing up at you with his lips curled into a slight pout. his arms loop your waist, snug and secure.

“mm, you said a lot of things earlier,” is your soft laugh, recalling his crude mouth and how worked up it made you. he allows you to rake your nails through his short blonde fringes.

“applying for this gig is the best thing that’s ever fuckin’ happened to me,” reiner makes an attempt to sit upright and show his conviction, but he ends up with his back hunched over in the restrictive space. he disregards his comfort and reaches for your hands, clasping them in his own. “i said that i love you . . . and i mean it.” his words are airy. he’s still winded from the sex.

“and i love you,” you mean it, too. with all your being. you love him in a way you've never loved anybody else. mister braun keeps you safe, sprinkles you with compliments, slips on your heels for you, puts you first. he makes you feel like this pairing has a chance, like you don’t have to hide it. besides, he deserves your all. you should be proud to call him yours, and that you are.

reiner always wants your kisses. in the morning when you wake, right before dinner, and as you’ve recently discovered, after sex too. you’re always eager to receive his lips pressed to yours. “i love you,” reiner adds in between pecks. he now says it like it’s second nature— he loves you. it makes your heart leap from beneath your chest. he kneads your bare thighs in his palms, slowly gliding his tongue into your mouth. without shame, you moan against his lips. slivers of spit tether you both even after you part.

“i want everyone to know that we belong to each other, reiner . . . my family, too.” you admit, peering up at his handsome face through your curled lashes. you’ve got your hands planted at his chest, feeling at the solidity of his pecs.

“tonight?” he asks, tone unsure.

“yes, tonight, rei!”

he adores your sudden zeal for honesty. he truly does, but—

“maybe another day would work better, princess,” reiner muses, “when your parents wouldn’t kill me for all those hickeys on your neck.”

©PINKMIRTH! . . . all rights reserved! do not steal, plagiarize or repost any of my works. please and thank you! ୨୧

[jupiter-letters]

Dating Number 4/ Klaus Hargreeves would include☂️👻:

Fem! or GN! Reader TW: Brief mentions of addiction

A/N: I started Umbrella Academy a week ago and I’m obsessed, I’m almost done with season 3 and I can’t wait for season 4. I’d managed to fall in love with Robert Sheehan all over again and all that love has to go somewhere so here it is.

Waking up to little peppered kisses on your back and up your torso. If you don’t open your eyes he’ll just start blowing raspberries into your neck and on your face. Once he hears you laughing he’ll stop and flip you over. He likes being the first thing you see when you wake up. Some days are a little more peaceful and less silly, you wake to see him still asleep. A mess of curls and smudged glitter eyeshadow is the first thing you see. He’s at such peace and the most still you’ll ever see him. 

Putting makeup on each other, whether it’s going out or just playing around with new looks it doesn’t matter. Being able to experiment with new colors and combinations with each other is so much fun. On date nights you’ll pick outfits for each other, sometimes even just wearing each other’s clothes. Doing things like this with him leads to doing most things together. 

Why have him do things when you can do it for him? Or even with him? He loves having you wash his hair. Showers, baths? Of course we have to both be in there at the same time! Klaus is so touch starved any reason to spend time together he’ll take it,an added bonus is your company keeps the spirits away. 

You’re always in close proximity to each other, so your skin is always touching. Klaus just can’t get enough, physical touch becomes his middle name. He’s a natural affectionate person but just having you near is very grounding for him. 

He’ll draw on you with little glitter pens he carries in his pocket, he likes to call you his “canvas and his muse.” Even without the pens he’ll trace random shapes and words onto your arm or your back when you both lie in bed. Klaus also likes to play with your fingers when he’s bored.

Kissing!! He’s such a fiend for kissing my god, after that first kiss he’s finished. He always says he wants just one but it ends up escalating to a full on make out sesh. Doesn’t matter if you’re public or not you look too good it’d be a crime not to kiss you. Klaus doesn’t really give a damn about public embarrassment, if you wanted him to he’d run through central park naked, he would.

 Once he knows you’re ok with all the random bursts of affection he really piles it on. Neck kisses, shoulder kisses, nose kisses, not one day goes by where he doesn’t kiss you. He kisses like he wants to devour you, if he wasn’t able to kiss you that’d be hell on Earth. If you’re a fan of random kisses at the most inappropriate times he’s a professional. You’re driving, he’s gonna make out with you. Out shopping, kissing! Right now! Doctor’s appointment? Kisses under your jaw in the waiting room, he can’t help it, he's bored.

Helping him get clean, you and Ben have been pretty good influences in his life. Trying to keep him on the straight and narrow for the sake of his health. He wants to be present for you, he wants to be able to remember the things you do together. You help him find fun things to do without getting drugs involved. Taking your time and being patient with him means the world to him. He loves his siblings but they aren’t the best at helping him with it. They do try a little harder when you come around seeing how serious you are about helping him. You stay awake with him when his nightmares get too bad or when the withdrawal is really wearing him down. If it’s the ghosts that are bothering him you just tell them to piss off.(he really appreciates that)

Klaus begins to teach himself new skills to help you out around the house, cooking, cleaning you name it. He doesn’t do it very well but you appreciate the effort anyway. Chores become another activity for you both to do. He’ll even indulge in some of your hobbies just for the fun of it. 

Tattoos! He gets something on his wrist that reminds him of you, he can’t wait to show you too. If you get one related to him, god forbid a little number 4 on you he’ll cry. He does eventually tell you about the rest of his journey in Vietnam and Dave. Klaus wants to be sure you know he won’t compare you to him, He’ll always love Dave but he doesn’t love you any less. He’ll get really shy if you kiss his hand tattoos, there aren’t a lot of ways to fluster him so that’s a good one. 

Being surrounded by death and destruction most of his life really makes him appreciate what you have. The way you indulge in his antics and impulses makes Klaus feel so seen. You don’t feel real to him sometimes; late at night he’ll just lay his head on your chest and listen to your heart beating. 

When some crazy new developments or drama happens in his family you’re first to know. Luther tells him something very personal and secret and 15 mins later he’s calling you on the mansion’s phone. 

Luther: “This stays between us Klaus I mean it…” Klaus: “Of course Lulu I wouldn’t dream of telling anyone you’re dirty little secret” A few moments later… Klaus: “Babe you’ll never believe what Luther just told me!”

He’ll always be looking at you, wherever you are and whatever you’re doing you have his full attention. Klaus will just be gazing at you lovingly while five is trying to talk to him, eventually he’ll just ignore him and go to talk to you. You're his favorite person to talk to; he never gets bored with you.

Thanks for reading! Lemme know what you think. Please like or reblog if you like my stuff.

[beardedjoel]

oasis

dbf neighbor! joel miller x f!reader. one shot.

main masterlist | ao3 | kofi

summary: your dad's friend is tasked with looking after you while he's out of town. he ends up finding you somewhere you absolutely shouldn't be. blackmail ensues. 8.3k words.

for @iamasaddie's writing challenge! my genre was dark and the prompt was "please don't tell my dad!" thanks for the amazing challenge! 💌

warnings: 18+ MDNI! dark themes, joel is pervy and sleazy, age gap (reader is under drinking age but an adult so 18-20, joel's age unmentioned but he calls himself an old man and he's 50+ in my head), consensual but there are elements of coercion and blackmail so... (it's dark! okay!), unprotected piv, lap sitting, lap dance, thigh/crotch riding, orgasm denial, pussy pronouns, dirty diiiirty talk, cumshot?, reader has hair that can be pulled and wears lingerie but otherwise is undescribed.

a/n: this is less edited than my usual work but i hope i did it justice! it was very fun and silly to come up with this idea and i ended up loooving how crazy it got!

Keep an eye on her while we’re gone, eh?

The words from your father ring through Joel’s ears when he hears the start of an engine from where he sits in his living room, his view on the plush couch offering a perfect view through the large picture window on the front of the house. Right to where you live with your dad, where he can see the lights of your car come on. Bingo. He’s got you now.

Obsession felt like a strong word, but Joel could describe it no other way as soon as you’d moved in across the street - your dad was a longtime friend and neighbor, talk of his little girl rampant for years before he’d had the chance to meet you. You were going to be going to college nearby, so you moved from where you lived with your mom in California down to your father in Texas, right across the street from where he’d had the pleasure of laying eyes on you for the first time.

Young. Supple. Beautiful. And so damn shy. 

He hated just how much it turned him on when your timid eyes would find his. The pervy old man who couldn’t keep his eyes off a young girl - what a god damned cliche he’d become. He kept tabs on you, at first not really realizing he was doing it, eyes peering out the windows to catch you on your way out the door or coming home soon escalated to trying to see into your bedroom window at the front of the house. His time with your father mysteriously seemed to double, then triple, any chance he could to get close to you, see you in your natural habitat, hoping to learn more about this special girl that had captured so much of his attention.

You dressed modestly, too - far too modestly for his liking - he knew your father was a strict man, and assumed just as much about your mother from the way your dad talked about his ex-wife. He never got to see enough of you, except for the few times you had on shorter dresses when the summer heat just got to be too much to bear, and those rare occasions burned themselves into his memory, a bank of images to pull from when he took a hand to his cock and thought of you.

He’s up in a flash, smiling softly to himself as he quickly slides on his shoes and swipes his keys from the front table, exiting the house and seeing your car still parked in the drive. You always sit there too long before driving off, probably playing on your phone, texting your friends, whatever the hell young girls like you do. All Joel knows is he’s grateful it gives him enough time to sneak to his truck before you can get too far, waiting until you pull out and start down the street before starting his own car.

Joel checks the time as he starts down his driveway and sees it’s well after 9:00 pm. Where the hell could you be going, you naughty thing? Your dad has a strict curfew for you, he knows, and if he’s tasked with keeping an eye on you, he might as well do it right.

So he follows you. You get on the highway, heading towards downtown, and Joel’s eyebrows raise as he turns up his music, cruising along behind you, so unaware as he sees the outline of your own head bopping along to your music when he can get a clear enough view.

When you finally park, the city streets bustling with people out late on a Friday night around you, Joel sits in his truck, eyes peeled as he watches you round a building, disappearing. Oasis, the glowing sign on the front says. It looks a bit seedy, this area of town, a bouncer on the outside that you’d given a curt wave to sending Joel’s expression into pure shock before a determined smirk crosses his lips.

It turns out it’s not as exclusive as having a bouncer would make it seem. Joel waits in line with the others, feeling a bit out of place but his appetite to bust you outweighs all of it. Not more than ten minutes later he’s inside, the dark hallway opening up to a massive room laid out in front of him. It’s busy - bodies everywhere, the smell of sweat, alcohol, and arousal permeating everything and Joel blinks to adjust his eyes to the dim mood lighting. A dance floor takes up most of the middle, crowded to the max as music bumps through the speakers, and two bars flank either side, fully packed as well. There are lounges everywhere - cushy leather couches with tables, and as Joel’s vision comes in in full, he sees more private spots along the edges of the room on a slightly elevated area, curtains closing them in.

Too busy taking everything in, he doesn’t even notice the most important detail right away - the waitresses. More specifically, the way they’re all dressed. Gorgeous bodies of all shapes and sizes, parading around in what is essentially lingerie - a lacy black bra paired with a matching set of panties, sheer black stockings and a garter trailing down their legs all the way to the heels that adorn their feet. Joel feels a twinge inside his belly, pulling low and taut when he spots one of the waitresses with thick thighs and a plush stomach grinding on a woman sitting on one of the couches, the receiver throwing her head back in teasing, pleased laughter before taking a long sip of her drink. He continues scanning the room, seeing another man closer to his age being straddled by a different waitress with one of the nicest pairs of tits Joel has ever seen in that same uniform, her hips swaying and grinding so close to his crotch as she gives him a lapdance.

Fuck.

His mind spins faster, blood going hot as it runs through his veins, his cock twitching under the denim of his jeans. It’s been too long - all the pining, the built up frustration, and he’s needy. He finds it hard to believe you’d just be out partying at a place like this, certainly not the neighborly girl he knows. Bringing over leftovers you’d cooked for you and your dad, always with a little treat on the side and a soft smile, your frilly socks and white tennis shoes, collars that never revealed much past the very top of your gorgeous tits. But it still made him fucking crazy, all of it. He wanted to be the one to ruin it, to see who you really are underneath all of the fluff and sweetness. Because at the end of the day, he knows he wasn’t imagining that glint in your eye that told him you had more to offer.

Joel shakes the distractions and his dirty, racing thoughts, eyes scanning the room for you, remembering his mission. He is about to internally ask himself the question when your appearance answers everything he needs to know. Slack jawed, he looks on as you step out from behind one of the bars, tossing a smile over your shoulder at one of the other workers as you start to move carrying a tray full of drinks. 

When you emerge in full, strutting your way across the room, you’re wearing it. The outfit. The skimpy bra and panties to match all of the other servers. Your coworkers. Oh, he’s so thoroughly fucked right now, he thinks in a rising panic. But then again, so are you.

“Thank god you’re here! You’re seriously such a life saver,” Kristina says breathlessly as you breeze into the locker room. She’s one of the supervisors here at Oasis, the club you’ve been working at since the beginning of the summer. Sure, you were underage to serve alcohol, but the owners of this club seemed willing to turn a blind eye to a lot of things to gain good talent. Good pay, direct cash, and an insane amount in tips. Enough to pay your way through college, you hoped. Beyond all of that, once you’d gotten into the swing of things you found that you liked it, too. The power you felt in these heels, the way eyes followed you everywhere, you’d never felt so desired, so free or sexually open in your life. Although the only time you’d actually had sex was with your one ex-boyfriend, and it never felt like you do here - sexy, with raw desire filling the air, something so tangible you feel you can reach out and touch it sometimes.

You pull your shirt over your head, unclasping your regular bra and swapping it for the black, lacy one that lives inside your locker. Kristina stands nearby, unfazed by your bare chest as she thanks you. She’d called you about forty five minutes ago, begging for you to come in on your night off when another server, Rochelle, got sick right as things started to pick up. Friday night tips hadn’t sounded so bad when you had no plans apart from watching TV in your dad’s empty house, so it felt like a win.

“No problem,” you say, smiling at her. “Happy to help.”

“You’ve got section five tonight - Justin has Laura covering right now, just switch out when you’re ready, kay?”

You confirm, quickly finishing up your swap into your uniform, admiring yourself in the mirror with a soft smile, still getting used to the look of lingerie on you. You’d have been stupid to keep something like this in the house with either of your parents, not worth the risk if they found out about it.

The noise of the club blares, making you wince for a quick moment as you step out from the calmness of the locker room to the deafening noise beyond and get your bearings behind the bar. It really is busy, but all you can see is money when you glance around, admiring how full the place is tonight. 

You’re stopped in the middle of your flow after swinging by the bar to pick up drinks for one of your tables. It’s an extra flirtatious group of men who are practically ready to feast on you, but for all the poorly managed things about this club, they at least have a strict no touching rule with the staff that is enforced by any number of the security guards around. So you get to have your fun, keep your distance, and hope they pay extra for a lapdance from you and tip you well for it.

“You’ve got a, uh, private request,” Justin says, speaking quietly but leaning close to your ear so you can hear him. You pull back, a look of surprise on your face, a questioning glance that he confirms with a nod. “We’ll cover your tables. Room seven.”

Your mind spins faster as you walk towards the room. The rooms aren’t fully private, just a halfway curtain that gives the impression you’re more alone than you are. That luxury doesn’t come cheap, so whoever booked this room and asked for you must mean business. In fact, management hasn’t even put you on serving private rooms regularly yet, reserving that right to the more tenured employees until you work your way up the ladder. You smile, wondering who it could even be that specifically requested you - a regular that loved the banter you’d offered? A new customer who was drawn to you from across the room? It makes your heart skip a little, anticipation and a hint of nervousness coursing through you as you reach the curtain, stepping beyond to see your mystery customer.

Holy shit.

The sultry smile you’d plastered on fades right off your face, replaced with a deep set frown, your mouth open but unable to speak. Your stomach is rapidly dropping to depths it's never known before as your face starts to burn hot, cheeks feeling like they’re on fire. Your arms fly up to your chest, crossing them over as some kind of futile cover of yourself, but his eyes are trained there unashamedly, seeing the way your arms have really just accentuated your cleavage. He’s spread out on one of the loveseats, completely alone, knees wide apart, lap open and desperately inviting when it absolutely should not be.

“M-Mr. Miller?”

Joel was having far too much fun with this. The priceless look on your face that had wiped off the pretty grin you’d had was worth every damn penny he’d spent on this ridiculous room just to get you alone. You think you can cover up, somehow, but it only really offers Joel a better view of your bottom half, the lacy shorts style panties a treat for his weary gaze, the garters sitting against your soft skin one of the most enticing things he’s ever seen. He instantly feels his cock getting hard as his eyes rake up and down your body, settling on where your tits are now pressed together against your crossed arms.

“Mr. Miller?” you stutter out after a long, dense silence between the two of you.

“Don’t cover up on account’a me, sweetheart,” Joel replies cooly, threading his hands together behind his head, looking even more relaxed than when you’d first walked in. Your arms seem to tighten around you, the complete opposite of Joel.

“Wh-what are you -” you start trying to ask, and Joel notices how you suddenly look unbalanced, legs shaking underneath you. You attempt a step forward, bringing yourself further into the room and it gives Joel an even closer look at you, and god damn you’re gorgeous. Your skin looks flawless, so smooth and soft looking - the apex of your thighs coming closer to eye level as you move forward, all adorned by that lace that’s making him wild. He’s never seen anything close to this much of your skin before, and he has half a mind to grab you right here and toss you over his lap, taking everything he wants from you.

“Could ask you the same thing, couldn’t I?” he questions you, enjoying the tease, the way he sees your face screw up a little tighter at the very valid point he was making. You’re caught, and there’s no way around it now, he thinks smugly.

Your face falls, eyes going to the ground and watching your feet shift nervously in your heels. “I-I get it. You made your point. I’ll go home, okay? I know I shouldn’t be here -” you stammer out, and the guilty look on your face tells Joel what he’d already suspected - your dad knows absolutely nothing about this job of yours. 

“No, you shouldn’t,” Joel says, but he makes no move to get up, keeping a steady, unrelenting gaze on you. When you flick your eyes up to him, he sees they’re watery, and it makes his insides twinge with a strange mixture of regret and pleasure as he sees the tears brimming along the edges of your eyes, the subtle panic he can see growing. 

“You’re bein’ very bad, ain’t ya? ” Joel tuts, and you seem to almost flinch at the words from where you awkwardly stand in front of him still, unsure of what to do, where to go. Joel feels that pleasure growing warm in his gut, knowing he has you right where he wants you. “I mean, look at that outfit, sweetheart -” Joel starts with a low whistle, sitting forward slightly so you can see just how much he’s admiring it, his eyes narrowed in inspection, the weathered lines in his face apparent with the way his brows are raised. “Thas’ a far cry from those clothes you wear on my doorstep, play actin’ a good little girl.”

“N-no! I don’t - I didn’t mean - I am good.” You’re more and more visibly flustered, your arms wrapping around yourself as Joel continues to tease you, intent on bringing you down a few more notches.

Joel gives you a condescending glare. “Darlin’, ain’t nothin’ good about this. Lemme tell you what I think…” He leans back again, staring up at you, not once inviting you to sit, and knowing you won’t unless he does - he wants to make you sweat. “You never got to have that rebellious streak w’ both your parents bein’ who they are, did ya? An’ you thought you deserved it, to have a little fun, didn’t you?”

Your lip quivers and you blink back another set of hot, embarrassed tears, eyes trained back on the dark, faux marble floors, refusing to speak.

“Didn’t you?” he asks again with more bite. Fucking brat. Good thing Joel had plenty of tactics up his sleeve to whip a wannabe brat back into a good girl, he thinks with a sly smile to himself.

“Y-yes! Okay? I wanted to do something… for me,” you finally admit, feeling yourself shake a little at his demanding words.

“Now was that so hard?” Joel asks, becoming acutely aware of just how hard he is, almost painfully so now that he’s been teasing you, fantasizing about this moment for far too long. You shake your head, still hung downwards in shame before bringing your eyes back to his. They look soft, youthful and desperate, and Joel has never felt so turned on in his goddamn life, all the power he’s feeling rushing right to his cock.

“J-just… please don’t tell my dad,” you say, almost quiet enough Joel can’t hear it over the distant bump of the music. But he made it out, the words he’d been hoping you’d say, the ones he knew you’d have to utter.

“I won’t,” Joel starts, seeing the relief flood your face, nearly laughing at how quickly you put stock in his words before even hearing what else he has to say. So naive. “But what’s in it for me, hm? Ain’t gonna keep a secret without a little… incentive.” Joel’s hands plant on his thighs, running up the length of them as he watches your emotions shift in real time, your jaw going slack, eyes widening and barely blinking. You just stutter, completely taken aback and Joel had expected as much - you’re too good of a girl to navigate a situation like this. Good thing he already has his next words planned and loaded up to help you along.

“Laps feelin’ mighty empty, y’know…” Joel muses, leaning back and spreading his palms out on the leather couch next to his thighs. You flash your eyes to his legs, then his face again, mouth gaping open, finally realizing just what he’s asking for. 

You can’t believe this is happening to you. You should never have taken this job, kept such a big secret from your dad that you knew he’d absolutely kill you for if he found out. You were technically an adult now, but that didn’t mean you could just throw away his rules while you lived at home with him. 

And now you were being blackmailed by his friend. His very handsome friend, but you’re trying hard not to think about that right now. There’s no way he’s serious about this, no way he could actually want this from you? The neighbor girl, his friend’s daughter? Mr. Miller had always been kind, just a bit of a grumpy edge to him but he loved to joke around with your dad. You often caught them laughing together, too shy to have inserted yourself enough with someone who made your skin grow hot just from glancing into his dark, chocolate brown eyes. But without that buffer of your dad, here alone in the dim lighting of the club, it was like he’d become another man. 

“Y-you want me to…?” you say, blinking hard as you stare at his thick thighs and crotch, all spread wide open. It’s enticing - normally even with an attractive customer you find yourself thinking of it more as work - fun work, but still work. But with Joel… you’d felt heat pooling between your thighs as he observed you this entire conversation, the desire starting to outweigh the embarrassment you were feeling. 

“Paid for it, didn’t I?” he remarks practically, a nip of impatience edging his voice as you swallow hard and step forward. 

“Y-you don’t have to… we can get a refund if you don’t want me to do it…” you say, trying to remind yourself not to mumble, but your nerves are getting the best of you. 

Joel’s head shakes slowly, his hand drifting out smoothly from his body towards you, tenderly locking on to where your wrist dangles at your side and pulls you closer. Closer. Closer, until he’s pulling you down so that you have to bend down, coming face to face with him. Your cheeks burn, breathing heavy and stunted as the tension in the air thickens, his lips so close to yours. You can’t help but glance at them, the inviting curve of his lips drawing you in, but Joel’s eyes are elsewhere, peering down right between your bodies where your tits are on such display for him, spilling out of the bra at this angle. 

“Like I said,” he coos softly, eyes obviously drifting up towards your face, “I need a little incentive to not spill your dirty little secret, darlin’.” A smirk grows on his face before he lets go of your wrist, and you stumble backwards a little. 

“Y-you -” you stutter again, trying to counter him, but you come up short. “O-okay…” you mutter with a sigh, taking a deep breath before you hesitantly turn around, facing your back to him. 

Joel tuts immediately at your lack of enthusiasm. “None of that, gimme the full show, sweetheart, or the deal’s off.”

You huff quietly, taking a few steps away from Joel, readying yourself. He can see the change in your demeanor already, the more confident strides you take before turning around, facing him again. Then you begin your routine, practiced and ready, pacing towards him with a feline, graceful energy, heels clicking on the floor as you slip one leg in front of the other, heading towards him. You almost hesitate, pushing yourself through the doubt as your hand reaches out, grazing along his shoulder, moving inward towards his collarbone.

Your fingers drag along his chest, where one button of his flannel shirt is open, wishing you could delve your whole hand inside and feel the more than likely gorgeous planes of his chest. Christ, he’s so meaty, so thick everywhere you touch. 

A soft rumble escapes his chest before you turn around, grinding your ass downwards and then back up, teasing him by getting a little lower each time. But it’s not enough, he knows you’re holding back, your movements a little stilted and awkward. His cell phone is out of his pocket before he can think much more about it, snapping a photo of the way your ass is grinding down towards him, just enough of your side profile in the photo that it’s undeniably you. 

“Come on, know you can do better’n that.” Joel clicks his tongue, making you freeze, hovering awkwardly above him. “Do this for a livin’ lord knows how many nights a week. If you ain’t gonna give me what I paid my hard earned money for I can call your daddy right now… maybe jus’ text him this picture. What d’you think about that?” Joel asks, holding his cell phone forward and into your eyesight. You gasp, hands grabbing for it just as he snatches it away. 

“D-delete that! Please!” you cry out, feeling panic squeeze at your chest. Fuckfuckfuck you are so thoroughly fucked right now if Joel has photo evidence.

Joel smiles down at his phone, peering at the image one last time before pocketing it. “No can do, sweetheart. Now, I don’t really wanna have to ask again, yeah?”

You only gape at him for a moment longer before snapping your mouth shut and positioning yourself above his lap again. “F-fine. Jesus,” you mutter angrily, finding that the irritation you’re feeling is starting to spur you on as you begin to move again, feeling yourself turned on by Joel’s musk in your space, the heat of his body radiating towards yours in this close proximity. Not to mention you can sense just how turned on he is, how much this is affecting him as you move with more conviction, hips delicately swinging in front of him. If he wants a show, you’ll give him your best yet, you think with determination.

“F-fuck… attagirl,” Joel lets slip when you brush his crotch with your ass. He’s barely holding it together with your curves swaying tantalizingly in front of him, something even his wildest dreams likely couldn’t have conjured up. He’d never think he’d see you like this - so sensual, so fucking gorgeously in control of your sexual aura that it could make a man lose control. Your customers were beyond lucky, he thinks with a pang of jealousy shooting through him, making his blood boil hotter, his possessive side come out. While he’d been at home pining over you, thinking about you with a hand stroking his own cock, you’d been here - rubbing your pretty ass on all those lucky fucks and their undeserving crotches. 

The thought makes him insane, the image of you doing this to any other man, so when you lean back against him, pressing your back to his chest, your ass just beginning to grind on his jeans, his hands go to your hips instinctively trying to bring you down onto him, to claim you. You slow your movements to a stop, leaning your head back towards his ear so that you’re almost entirely pressed against him now. 

“Not s-supposed to touch,” you say, you voice the only thing giving away just how nervous you still are. 

“Don’t fuckin’ care, if I’m honest,” Joel huffs back quietly, his voice husky and breathless. You bite back a moan as his rough hands wrap around each side of your waist tightly and help guide you that last inch downwards, sending your ass fully rolling over his crotch. 

“H-holy shit…” you whimper when you feel the rough denim brush along the outside of your panties. You feel a flush run through you, your skin burning hot as you realize you won’t be able to hide how wet you’ve gotten for very long. It began slowly, just with his brooding, questioning eyes on you, now reaching a fever pitch as you’re in his space and feeling the prominent bulge in his pants. 

It’s been far too long since you were satisfied. Truly satisfied. 

Your breath catches as Joel fingers wiggle inward a little after hearing how much you’re getting into it, even closer to the waistband of your panties, the two of you facilitating the grinding motion together as you bear down a little more on his lap. Joel lets out a pleased hum, still somehow giving you the sense that he’s the one holding back now. His hands still have an air of respect to them, like they’re vibrating with the need to wrap completely around you and pull you to him, to roam your skin and grab at all the forbidden parts of you. 

When the thought flashes across your mind, you realize you want him to. 

“T-touch me…” you whisper, immediately clamping your betraying mouth shut as the words float out into the air. You hold your breath, waiting to see if Joel heard you.

“What’s that, gorgeous? Couldn’t quite hear you,” Joel says, his tone a low, mocking sound that tells you he’s baiting you, that he wants to play with his food before eating it. Your eyes narrow before they shut completely, rolling back when he forces your ass to move along his bulge again.

“F-fu- touch me,” you spit out a bit louder. “Please.”

“You poor thing,” you hear him tut from behind you, forcing your hips upwards and away before grasping onto your hands, turning you around to face him. “Can’t get us in trouble now, can we?” he asks tauntingly, his eyes giving you a heated staredown as they widen, almost looking sympathetic if there wasn’t so much of an appetite behind them.

You whimper, visibly whining as your face screws up, squeezing his hands with yours. Joel tugs, so lightly that you’d almost think it was your own idea as you start to come back down towards him, pressing the warmth between your legs against his thigh. You sigh shakily, eyes fluttering shut as you slowly swing one leg over top of his and bear down a little more, straddling his thigh.

“We w-won’t… we won’t…” you breathe out, knowing it’s not the complete truth, but room seven is especially tucked back, hardly getting any traffic. In fact, it was known for bending the rules a bit. 

“She’s so needy, huh? You all wet for me, sweetheart, that it? She need a little relief?” Joel taunts, and when you open your eyes to meet his gaze, he’s practically pouting. Your cheeks burn at how desperate he’s making you sound, but your hips twitch of their own accord, sending a zing of pleasure up your spine and you whimper quietly again, giving yourself away even further. 

“Y-yes, Mr. Miller…”

“Keep on doin’ your little dance, pretty girl, jus’ right there,” Joel urges you, a hand finding the small of your back, the other locked onto your hip as you start to rock forward, then back again. Relief instantly floods you as your clit brushes against the ripples in the hard denim, making you move harder against him, mouth popped open in fresh ecstasy. 

“Close that mouth before I shove somethin’ in it, you fuckin’ tease,” Joel grits out, his eyes burning wildly, finally giving you a glimpse at how affected he is as he keeps his stare on your face, starting to sheen with sweat. Your mouth snaps shut, a stifled moan pulling from your throat and behind your closed lips, threatening to burst out of you.

“This ain’t against the rules? Havin’ a pretty girl ride my thigh?” he asks in cruel teasing, flickering eyes glancing down to where your hips are shamelessly rocking on him.

“I- I don’t - know-“ you choke out, your legs starting to tremble as the pleasure slowly, steadily builds deep inside of you. “I d-don’t care…”

“Riiight, she’s on her rebellious streak now, ain’t she?” Joel mutters facetiously, smiling a devious grin as he watches your face screw up in concentration. You truly don’t care, you can’t care anymore when whatever the hell is going on feels so good. Damn this job, damn Joel’s games, you’re going to get what you need out of this right now, too. Your head is thrown back as your whines and moans escalate, showing Joel just how close you’re getting. 

“That’s it, god you’re beggin’ for it, ain’t you? So dirty…” Joel’s hands grip tighter along your hips, starting to drag you inwards, towards his aching, clothed bulge. “Beggin’ for your daddy’s friend's cock while you make a mess all over his thigh, aren’t you? Who would’ve thought a good girl like you’d be wantin’ to get fucked by an old man?”

His words make you clench around nothing, the harsh tone making your insides twist in pleasure as you roll your hips a little faster. “F-fuck… I - I need to - Mr. Miller -” you plead aimlessly, feeling your core tightening, the obscene wetness driving you to full on madness as your pussy aches, cries out for Joel.

Your leg is being dragged over top of him, forcing you to fully straddle his lap, thighs stretched wide and burning at how wide you’re going to accommodate his huge frame. You’re in disbelief at the rough, needy noise Joel makes as soon as your cunt is pulled down onto him, Joel’s hands forcing your hips to start thrusting against him. You nearly lose your balance, wrapping your arms around his neck to hang on as he looks at you with determination. Hands planted firmly on your ass, squeezing hard as he relishes in the feel of finally having you like this, feeling your warm heat seeping through his denim right to where he’s desperate to have you most.

“Joel,” he corrects in his haze, stunting your hips to press down hard on his cock, sending a gasp flying out of your mouth at the sheer size of what’s to come. Your mouth is practically watering, so close to what your body craves now, what it needs. When your fingers graze the button of his jeans, he stiffens, seeming to snap out his lustful fog as he swats your hand away.

“Fuck… later,” Joel says suddenly, using every bit of self restraint to push you back, moving your heat from his bulge, the instantaneous lack of you devastating him to the core. 

Your brows quickly knit in confusion at the sudden change in course. “W-why…?” you whisper breathlessly, bringing your lips near his neck, kissing the rough skin, working your way up to his patchy, gray flecked beard. His hand is at the back of your head, yanking you backwards by the hair, tearing your lips off of him in a brutal rush. He holds you there, the pull on your scalp starting to prickle harder as you sit staring at him like a tamed animal being held up by its scruff. 

“Can’t fuck you properly in here. Too many fuckin’… people. Prying eyes wantin’ to see what all the fuss is about.”

“I-I can be quiet,” you retort, hating just how much it sounds like begging but the hold he has on you right now is so intense, so inexplicable that you’d say anything, you think.

Joel huffs, a tiny, incredulous snort coming out of his nose. “No, you can’t. Not if I’m doin’ what I plan on doin’ to you. We can’t have anyone come snoopin’, can we?”

You shake your head, suddenly wondering if he’s about to drag you out of here, take you home to his bed, or your bed, you think with a shudder. You feel a pull inside your belly, thinking you just might let him if you don’t get your head back on straight soon. 

“An’ you still gotta work the rest of your shift, make your money, don’t you babydoll?” Joel says with a smirk growing, making your face fall completely into a deep frown. “Call it a little punishment for bein’ such a bad, naughty girl, yeah? Then you can finish up givin’ me my piece of the pie.”

You find yourself gaping at him for the umpteenth time tonight in disbelief. He wasn’t going to just leave you… like this? Was he? You can feel your clit pulsing against your panties, your body tense and wound up, on the precipice of coming so hard you saw stars only a few moments ago. 

“Up, now,” Joel says, shifting his legs so that you’re forced to move, scrambling up onto your shaky legs, feeling like a newborn fawn getting your footing again.

“W-wait… I already - didn’t I… give you what you want?” you ask, suddenly feeling yourself snapping out of the heady, lust filled haze Joel had you in. This was insane, right? You can’t fuck him, you shouldn’t. It wasn’t right for either of you, and you’d been crazy to have just been this close to letting him stuff you full.

Joel’s head tilts, watching your slightly messy hair and smudged makeup for a few beats with a discerning gaze. “Nah, darlin’, you just gave me what I paid for. This is what I want.”

Your heart and stomach sink to new depths. “N-no. Joel! You said… if I gave you the lap dance you wouldn’t tell my dad. And I gave you a hell of a lot more than that -” Joel stands, interrupting you, coming forward and crowding your space, his hulking mass like a tower next to you, shadowing you with his commanding energy.

“Watch your mouth,” he snips, a hand gripping onto your wrist. “I’m the one callin’ the shots here, an’ I changed my mind once I saw just how pretty that sweet little pussy of yours can be. So here’s what’s gonna happen…” Joel’s fingers come up to ghost along your cheek, trailing down your neck, along the swells of your breasts as he speaks. You can’t help but shudder at the attention, how good it feels on your sensitive, needy skin.

“You go on out there, tell ‘em what a great job you did in here, work the rest of your shift like a good girl, thinkin’ about just how fuckin’ wet you got these pretty panties, how bad she needs a little help from Mr. Miller.”

Your breath is caught in your throat at his words, hitching further as his touch skates further down, sending your hips twitching forward. 

“An’ I’ll be waitin’ for you after, darlin’, for what I’m owed.”

Your heart pounds as you slip out the side door and into the alleyway, pausing to let the cool night air wash over you as you gather your thoughts. Your mind is at war with itself, one half of you knowing this is a terrible idea, setting you up for complete disaster in the future. How could you ever face Joel again if you two took it that far? Then again, you weren’t sure how you’d be able to face him in the daylight already, anyways, without your cheeks burning so hot they caught fire. The other half of you was winning, had been winning as you worked the rest of your shift in a complete daze, hardly recognizing your own movements as your body burned hot and needy, mind completely scrambled by the conundrum of your father’s closest friend coming onto you and more.

You spent the rest of your shift coming to terms with the fact that you do want to fuck him. So badly. Even if it’s wrong, a complete mistake in every single way. You also know your mind isn’t to be trusted right now, running on pure horniness and desperation, never having been fucked in the way you know Joel could. His experience, his power, the way his lustful eyes had drank you in like the sweetest balm - it was all too hard to turn down. You turn, looking the opposite way down the alleyway from your car, starting to think you might be able to sneak around the block and get in your car and drive off without him noticing, wondering exactly where he’s waiting for you. You don’t see a soul, hear anyone else in this alley apart from the distant music from inside and chatter from along the main street which is a far cry from where the employee exit to Oasis dropped you. 

You take the risk, heart thrumming wildly as you start down the alley, saying a silent apology to Joel in your head, and then yourself for letting this secret come out, knowing Joel was definitely not bluffing if you didn’t follow through on your end of the deal. Better to face punishment from your father than have to deal with the consequences of fucking his best friend and facing the feelings that would come after. You’re only halfway down the alleyway before a warm, rough hand is slapped against your mouth and an arm is draped around your middle and tugging you backwards. A wall of muscle meets you and you whimper loudly behind the hand, starting to yell.

“Shh, shh, no screamin’,” the voice coos, distinctly recognizable. Shit.

“Tryna sneak off on me, huh, pretty girl?” Joel says next to your ear, his neck craning down to breathe you in, groaning. It’s so feminine, so light and soft, the faded scent of your perfume and body wash makes him instantly mad with need for you. His hand slips down, giving your lips some room to answer now that you’ve stopped fighting him, leaning back into his hold a little more.

“N-no,” you choke out, lying. “S-swear.”

“Didn’t change your mind? Want me to send those pretty pictures to your daddy?” Joel coos, starting to walk you towards the brick wall of the building, pushing your body forwards until you’re pressed against the cool, scratchy surface. You hold back a moan when his body leans into you fully, completely dominating you as you’re at his mercy against the wall.

“I j-just d-don’t think we should -” you utter half heartedly, feeling heat rush to your cheeks, fearing what might come next after your suggestion.

“Why’s that?” he asks, dripping with condescension. “Seemed you couldn’t wait to get stuffed full of me not too long ago, yeah?”

“I-it’ll be weird after, w-won’t it? How can we… be around my dad? How can you?” You finally find your voice, your bravery, to ask him the question you’d been thinking the entire night.

A small chuckle blows past the side of your head from where Joel’s mouth sits against your head. “Think we both learned tonight I’m willin’ to keep a secret,” he says, his voice getting more harsh, a needy coarseness to it that sends goosebumps along your skin.  Joel feels a frenzy overcoming him when he notices your thighs clenching, how shallow and wanting your breaths are becoming now. He can’t wait much longer… can’t stand the torture he’s endured at your sweet teasing for a second longer.

“I-I want it…” you finally say in a harsh whisper, your resolve faded within seconds. Your ass ruts back into his hardness, an ache that hadn’t subsided in the least in the last hours as he waited for you. Patiently. Like he had already been all of these months. 

“You know I’m gonna ruin anyone else f’you, darlin’, don’t you?” he asks as his lips trace along your shoulder, now clad in a tank top that you’d changed back into. The bits of bare skin he touches taste like heaven, feel almost unbearably soft and inviting against his plush lips. He couldn’t possibly deserve any of this, but he couldn’t help but take it, anyhow. He could pay for his sins later. Your neck is next on his list, another supple spot of heaven to taste as he mutters the words again. “Don’t you?”

You just nod at first, dumbstruck by the feel of his lips, turning your head to try to meet them. “Yes,” you tell him softly, knowing it’s the truth, and there isn’t a turning back from this moment anymore. His lips are suddenly all there is, devouring your own whole as he takes in bounds, your tongues and teeth and mouths in a desperate clash, panting into one another as Joel starts to tug at your jeans, fingers flying desperately to tear them down.

You let him.

The second he’s pushing into you, you see bright white flash across your vision - that pulse of pain shooting through the very fabric of your being, your nerves lit up and screaming out from deep inside of you. Joel’s groan is barely audible through the ringing in your ears as he doesn’t stop, finding solace in your tight heat when he pushes himself into you in full. It’s heaven incarnate, you are heaven incarnate, he thinks, practically panting out the words as he feels your wet tightness pulling him in, walls pulsing as you adjust to the sheer volume that is Joel. Your cheek is crushed against the brick, mouth propped open in shock, the rough scrape on your face the only thing keeping you grounded as you whine out a long, wanton sound, something completely foreign to you.

“So… fuckin’... dumb on this cock,” Joel utters as he starts to move, a slow drag of his cock out and back in before he makes good on his promise to ruin anyone else for you, to never have a comparison to the blinding pleasure you feel rocking your entire universe as he quickly ruts into you. “Fuckin’ heaven.”

“J- fuck -” you stutter out, completely speechless. When one arm wraps around you, finding your clit, needy and puffy from hours of torturous edging, everything else melts away. The dark alley, the fact that you could be seen at any moment, the way you weren’t even sure you trusted Joel to keep your secret despite you following through on your end - none of it fucking mattered anymore.

“W-wanted this so bad, y’don’t know what you do to a man, sweetheart… Jesus fuck,” Joel says, uncharacteristically soft as his hips roll, sending your own bouncing onto his hurried fingers swirling along your clit. Desperation clings to the both of you now, hot and heavy air, hurried movements like this could be torn away from the two of you any second.

“Joel… I’m fu- I’m close, so close, please…” you rush out, feeling a pull of warmth at your center, his cock brushing along just the right spot to send you to that edge. You start to moan louder, the noise echoing in the open space around the two of you, your hand hurriedly slapping over your mouth to muffle it as the high starts to rock through you. His name screams from behind your hand, the sound still clear enough to send Joel to a state of crazed fervor, thrusting into you at an impossible pace, sending you bouncing harder against the wall. You twitch and shake, your eyes rolling back as you come harder than you have in months, maybe ever. Just like he’d promised, the absolute bastard.

“Fuckin’ creamin’ on this cock, shit, you’re so fuckin’ wet,” Joel marvels breathlessly as the obscene squelching of your bodies meeting only gets louder. “Oh, good girl, such a pretty, messy slut for a dirty old man, aren’t you?”

“G-god, yes, fuck… I am…” you whimper out with flustered nods, completely spent as you come down from your high, letting Joel use your cunt to chase his own now. You twitch at the overstimulation, your body still tingling pleasantly as he turns you into his own personal fuck toy, your body his for the taking. 

“Pretty as a picture, all fucked out like this,” he says slyly one hand planted on the wall next to you now, the other playing lazily with your aching clit. “Never gonna be able to give me up now, are you?”

You shake your head, lost in the moment with your answers as you feel another orgasm washing over you, less intense but still pleasant waves of pleasure rolling through while you gasp for breath, completely full of Joel each time he thrusts heartily into you, stealing away your air. 

“Please… c-can’t…” you mumble through your climax, hardly able to take the stimulation anymore but knowing the sick little part of your brain is happy to do it for him, let him use you until he’s completely spent himself. 

You don’t have to wait much longer for your wish, hearing Joel grunting, almost whimpering when he’s suddenly gone from you with a wet, slick pop, leaving you cavernous empty. He barely makes it out of you before his hand grips his cock, twitching in his palm as he comes towards the ground right in between your legs, ropes of cum coating your pulled down jeans and underwear, the brick wall, the pavement below you. His forehead is pressed to your back, sticky and hot as he catches his breath for a silent beat.

You’ve never felt anything like this, this satisfaction, this pure unadulterated filthiness and pleasure. The addiction already grips you, your poor, sore cunt already anticipating the next time he could ruin you. 

But then it hits you like a train, pulling you out of your reverent little bubble - this can’t happen again. It’s out of your system, out of his, and now you both have a secret to keep. You start to pull your pants up, the movement seeming to bring Joel to his senses, reaching down along with you. 

“Sh-shit, here, let me,” he says in a rasp, tugging your jeans up, the immediate feeling of wetness sticking to your body and making you cringe. “Little souvenir for ya,” he comments cockily, knowing his cum is now sticking to your skin, knowing that thought will sustain him for at least the next few hours. But that’s wishful thinking, he realizes, knowing that he could find himself buried in you the entire night, over and over again, considering hauling you away to do just that when you interrupt his thinking. 

“I- I’m sorry…” you mutter, not even fully sure of why you even say it. For some reason, you are sorry that you put the two of you in this position, even if it ended in something so incredible that you have a hard time even putting it into words. 

Joel spins you to face him, thumbing your chin and pinching it, bringing your face to look him in the eyes. They look a little softer than they had inside the club, more like the neighbor you’ve come to know. So charming and disarming when he wants to be. 

“Don’t be,” he says, leaning down to kiss you more gently than he had before, something tender and sweet that you find yourself immediately falling for, body melting into his as you hang your arms around his neck, wondering when along the way you started feeling so comfortable with this.

“Besides,” Joel adds, a devious smirk pulling his lips upwards. “Your daddy ain’t home for a few more days. Think we can find a few more ways to convince me to keep your little secret.”

[azsazz]

Cold Shoulder

Hockey!Azriel x Ice Skater!Reader

Summary: Anon Req: after sprinkles of luck and doubt i cant stop thinking of hockey!az being weird and distant and then comes in figureskater!eris to be readers skating partner and the jealousy that ensues ooooooooo

AKA Part 2 to Sprinkles of Luck and Doubt

Warnings: Angst

Word Count: 2083

Other Fics in the Hockey!Az AU: Penance, Shut Out, Out of Order, All's Well That Ends Well, Brr-eakdown Shots & Spins Sprinkles of Luck and Doubt

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“Where’s your guard dog?” The boy you’ve been trying to ignore since practice started says. He skids to a halt at your side, his skates spraying shards of ice across the worn ice. It’s due for a Zamboni soon, and glancing at the bright red numbers ticking the time away, you have twenty more minutes of skating until you’re done for the day.

It works perfectly for your schedule because you haven’t been able to focus since Azriel left you with a somber look after sneaking into the women’s locker room before his weekend away with his hockey team.

You don’t know what had gone wrong. Everything seemed fine when he pulled you into his body and you could feel the press of his thick cock in his pants against your stomach. He’d been more than excited to see you, and you’ve never felt more important than in his arms right then. Because he’d snuck into the women’s locker room to say goodbye. He could have easily left you with a text, or nothing at all—you knew his schedule like the back of your hand by now—but he felt inclined enough to break the rules to see you one more time before he left.

You get the saying now, because if he really wanted to, he would.

What you can’t grasp is the sudden change in Azriel’s mood. He’d gone stiff against you like the flip of a switch, and it wasn’t the good kind of stiff that reflected in his jeans. It was the kind of stiffness that you clocked immediately, fed on. When his body locked up, yours did too. When he refused to meet your gaze as he said a soft farewell, you didn’t have the heart to watch his off-putting demeanor.

It's been days since you’ve seen him. An entire week, almost. You’ve seen Cassian and Rhysand in passing, but they haven’t offered anything about Azriel and you hadn’t asked.

You’re not going to be that girl, even if the prolonged no-contact with someone you thought you could fall for is driving you up the wall.

“Practice,” you bite at the boy staring down at you. You wince at your tone. You answered much too quickly and with much to emotion for anyone to believe you, and you see it in the way Eris’ amber eyes soften a touch.

You don’t want his pity. You don’t need it.  All you want right now is to get off this damned ice—because of course it reminds you of Azriel, nearly everything does—and head back to your dorm to ice your throbbing knee.

You’ve known Eris since you transferred to Velaris University. He’s a challenge at the best of times and a menace at the worst, but he’s arguably your first friend outside of your dormmates, and even then, you’re not entirely sure they actually like you or if they just tolerate you because you all live together.

Maybe you need to start being a little friendlier.

“What happened?” Eris asks softly, and your throat grows tight with emotion. He’s the first person to ask, and for the first time since Azriel disappeared on you, you want to break down and let it all out. You want to spill every consuming thought you’ve had while you were overanalyzing and you want someone to feed into your delusion as much as you want someone to talk you off the ledge of crazy.

But you can’t do that, not in the middle of practice, because as soon as you open your mouth to spill, coach is shouting at you and Eris to run through your routine again.

You sigh in frustration, but it does nothing to ease the heaviness in your heart. After finally admitting that the injury you’re recovering from has been bothering you as of late, coach decided that working with a partner would help ease the stress on your knee while also keeping you working towards your goal.

You know you’ve had the option to work with a partner, but you’ve always been solo, and it’s difficult to allow yourself to put this much trust in someone else. The last time you put your trust in someone, he left you feeling like a wet towel abandoned on the shower stall floor.

Eris is well aware of your injury and how your recovery has been going, and he’s been more than happy to gently ease you into the routine. He’s been gentle with you during tricks, and you’re more thankful than you let on. As you get into position to practice one more time before you’re dismissed, you remind yourself to thank him properly by taking him to dinner or a movie or something he enjoys.

Eris counts you off and then you’re gliding across the ice together. His hand is a warm weight against your hip but it feels all wrong. It’s nothing like the hand you want there, the one that’s a brand against your skin.

You startle when Eris’ hand finds your other hip, preparing for your first trick. You wobble on your skate and he rightens you with a frown that you brush off with a head shake, taking a breath and focusing on what you do best.

Two, three, four, jump! Eris lifts you with ease, hauling you above his head. You engage your core and pose for a beat, two, and then he’s lowering you back to the ice with a gentleness that you haven’t experienced in pairs before.

This go-around, you’re mostly practicing lifts. Coach wants you and Eris to accomplish a triple twist lift, but you’re rusty working in pairs, and you need to work up to it. Plus, your knee screams in agony during your next trick, no matter how many times you’ve done a spiral.

Gods, you’re pushing it.

But to be the best, you have to.

You’re focused so intently on ignoring the pain flaring up your leg and the tricks you’ve yet to master to notice the figure across the arena. Hockey practice just let out, and a quick glance to the clock on the wall would have told you that if you’d been keeping an eye on it. Of course, you know the hockey schedule by heart. At first it was because you and Azriel would try to align your practices to get out on time so that you could find a dark place to touch each other, but now it’s because you wanted to escape any chance of seeing the broody hockey player you’ve decided you’re giving the cold shoulder to.

Azriel’s hazel eyes latch onto you and the hand he has wrapped around his hockey bag tightens until his knuckles turn white. He doesn’t know the guy whose hands are all over you, doesn’t like the way he grabs your hips to lift you, doesn’t like how close his face is to yours, how his eyes glitter with amusement when you curse under your breath. He doesn’t like the way your body looks molded to his when you jump or the way that you stare at each other at the end of your routine, both panting so hard that your chests nearly brush with every inhalation.

He definitely doesn’t like the ire flooding his bones like magma, nor the prickling sensations of jealousy that threaten to overtake his body, march him onto the ice, and beat the shit out of the guy that’s touching what’s his.

And he most certainly doesn’t like the way that you favor your uninjured leg as you make your way off of the ice.

Azriel can’t help himself, he’s a fool. A fool for leaving you. A fool for not messaging you that he needed time to figure his own shit out, that things with you were becoming too real. A fool for every doubting whatever you had in the first place.

He fucking missed you. All weekend, all week. He should’ve found you sooner, but with the loss against the Sparrows, coach has been making the team do double practice so they’re prepared for their next game tomorrow night, and with his classwork and personal life stacking up, he hadn’t prioritized you.

He’s realizing now that he should have.

Azriel doesn’t know what he’s doing until he’s halfway to where you’ve come off the ice and are listening to your coach. Eris stands too closely to your side as you nod, and it takes you longer than he wants to admit to notice him.

He watches your pretty eyes go wide, drink him in from head-to-toe—which he secretly preens at because you still want him, even after he’s acted like a jackass all week—and then narrow in a glare so harsh his steps falter.

Surely, he knows he fucked up, but he hadn’t gauged just how angry you’d be.

Very, apparently.

Azriel’s still trying to muster up what to say when coach dismisses you. You turn to Eris instead of moving towards Azriel, and the black-haired boy bristles at that fact. He can’t hear what you’re speaking about, but when Eris graces you with a charming smile and an agreement, Azriel knows he doesn’t like that one fucking bit.

You snatch your towel from where it’s hanging over the edge of the bench and wrap it around your neck, following Eris towards the locker rooms. You have to work to keep your face neutral, but your knee is killing you. All you want to do is go home, prop it up and ice it, maybe even devour a pint of ice cream or two, but upon seeing Azriel waiting for you in the walkway off the ice, you hastily invited Eris to grab dinner with you instead.

You want nothing to do with Azriel at the moment.

He’s still glaring at your friend when you try to pass by. Azriel grabs your arm but it’s gentle, and sends a zip of lightning up your spine.

“Hands off, hockey douche,” Eris defends, but Azriel doesn’t pay him a second glance, his intense eyes focused entirely on you.

“Can we talk?”

His voice is so soft, eyes pleading, that you want to cave immediately. Crawling right back into his arms sounds like bliss right now because you know Azriel well enough to know that he’s noticed how badly your knee is bothering you, and he’d be a great caretaker. But that means he’s also noticed how he left you, by the remorse in his eyes, and how upset you are with him.

“I can’t,” you respond, sticking to your guns no matter how painful it is. Azriel’s hand is warm on your arm, and his touch alone is already battering through your weakened defenses. You lift your chin and reprimand yourself all in the same motion. “I have plans.”

“Cancel them.”

“I don’t think so,” Eris huffs, hovering by your side. Azriel’s face hardens and you manage to hide your wince when he turns his glare on your partner.

“This conversation doesn’t involve you, firedick.”

“Azriel,” you hiss, and he hates that you’re using his full name. He hates that you sound so upset. “Apologize.”

He sets his jaw, staring down at you. You stare right back, arms crossed fully over your chest. There’s a bead of sweat brimming at your hairline that Azriel wants to brush away, and it’s a struggle not to haul you into his arms and drag you back to the hockey house with him to talk.

After a few terse seconds of silence, you scoff. He’s not going to apologize to you, and he presumably liked you, there’s no way in hell he’s going to apologize to Eris for calling him a crude name.

You manage to sidestep Azriel, though you’re sure you only get away with it because he lets you. He’s a persistent man and usually gets what he wants, but not today.

If he wants anything to do with you, he’s going to work for it.

“I’m sorry,” Azriel says when you’ve taken two steps away from him. You know it isn’t directed at Eris, but at you. Your steps falter and your lip wobbles with emotion. You wonder if Azriel knows what he’s sorry for, or if he’s just saying it to appease you.

You glance at him over your shoulder, cursing your wet eyes for giving you away.

You say thickly, “Yeah, me too,” and continue down the hall to the locker rooms.

Azriel watches you go.

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Azriel Hockey!AU Tags:

@whyonearthisyourusernamethi-blog @going-through-shit @crazylokonugget @lilah-asteria @girl-who-writes-stuff @moosemahboi @sherayuki @lyinginameadow @acourtofatboydreams @blackthorngirl @shadowsingercassia @evergreenlark @hannzoaks @bloodicka @whyshouldihaveanam3 @elle4404 @cherry-cin @quinzzelx @i-am-infinite @feeriqueivre @blightyblinders @kennedy-brooke @nyxbranwenn @dee-writes-smut @konaanaria13 @sunny1616

[fancyfeathers]

I love the batfamily and daughter series!!! Now, I know this would be incredibly difficult for daughter reader to achieve but what if she kissed someone at school? When they do ask she doesn't deny it she just says, "Yeah. I kissed that person. I like them and they're smart, talented, and respectful. Shouldn't you be proud I picked someone like that?" or something along the lines of it. Thank you for reading!!!!

Yandere Batfam w/ Wife/Mother!Darling & Daughter/Sister!Darling Masterlist

She is absolutely in trouble, so much trouble.

Damian is the first person to find out because he sees it happen, it is after school and they are supposed to be heading home because Dick is picking them up and waiting for them. Damian goes out to look for her only to find her kissing a boy from her class in the staircase and oh my god he is pissed. If he had not been restraining himself for the sake of their civilian identities he would have probably beaten the boy to death or damn near it, but instead he shoves him against the wall, holding his collar.

“If you dare even talk to my sister again I will end you, do you understand me?”

“Y-yes”

He then proceeds to drop the boy to the ground and drag his sister along to the car where Dick is waiting and he immediately tries to defuse the situation when Damian quite violently shoves her in the backseat of the car.

“Hey, hey, Damian you know we don’t ever get violent with her-“

“She was engaging in inappropriate behavior with a boy in the stairwell, Richard. Which is also not allowed, father has made that very clear.”

“Let… let me talk to him about this, you two need to behave.”

He drives them both back to the manor and while no words are said the disappointment is incredibly heavy, she can see Dick looking back at her in the rear view mirror with glances that make her heart sink to her gut.

The thing is when they get home Bruce already knows what happened, the boy’s parents called the principal’s office and now there was a whole lot of trouble brewing because of their actions. Bruce scolds Damian first, because of his threat and violent action he may have and up getting expelled and so now they’ll be having the family over to make amends and clear up this whole mess. Then after that his daughter gets chewed out for breaking one of the rules, she’s far too young (even if she is a teenager by this point ), what if he finds out about their secret identities, what if she and her mother get put in danger because that information gets leaked? It is one of those situations where he speaks without letting her speak, letting go her guilt build up to get his point across.

“Father, he is the top of my class, he is part of the service outreach program, he is-“

“That is not the point, it is to keep you safe, to keep your mother safe. There are people out there who would hurt you and your mother if they found out. I am not letting anyone die again.”

“Father-“

“I will pull you out of school if you keep fighting me on this, young lady.”

“Fine…”

She just agreed to not fight him on this, not to not kiss or date the boy.

Tim found out by listening to Damian talking to a very stressed out Dick about it and well curiosity and caution get the better of him and he does a whole background check on the boy and his family to find something to show to his little sister that this is not the type of person she want to be around or dating-

Perfect, he is literally spotless, so is his family, quite literally model citizens.

He is very bitter about this fact and it only infuriates him more because he does not want his little sister with him but there is not solid reason to give. So when the boy and his parents come by to sort out this incident, Tim hates him already, he is just so insanely perfect.

Then there is Jason who looks like he is about ready to strangle the kid when he sees him walk through the door of the manor with his parents. Tim may or may not have found the footage of what happened in the school’s security cameras and shown them to Bruce and the others, and at first Jason did not really care, she broke the rules so she will deal with the consequences, but then he sees the video and he is pissed. That boy was practically feeling up his little sister and she was to him, but that doesn’t matter. Then also like Tim, he hates how perfect he is, literally nothing to really hate, he is respectful to his sister, talented, romantic, a goody two shoes.

The other family is very civil, even after the fact that Damian threatened their son. All of them have to keep calm when they see their little sister and this boy laughing and talking all during dinner. Bruce even had to grab Jason to hold him back when the boy kisses her cheek when saying goodbye after the incident has been resolved.

“What? Shouldn’t you be happy I picked someone who is nothing like you?”

She is grounded for half a year.

Aldo a little extra bit to think about, her boyfriend and his family being a part of the Court of Owls and he is a potential yandere for her, just a thought.