#and if you leave your window open at night and don’t have some dog to scare them off you know raccoons would be all over your kitchen

[always-a-slut-4-ghouls]

Every time I see anything about Europeans not having screens on their windows I remember that one post “this is why you got the plague”. I cannot read anything about Europe and window screens without remembering that post, and honestly, I am still confused as to why people there don’t have screens

[mostly-imagines]

Guard Dog vol. II

jason todd x fem!reader

aka don’t fuck with jason’s gf pt. II

3 in 1 blurbs

warnings: mild standard gotham violence, in the 3rd section: attempted sexual assault and panicky thoughts afterwards from reader

“Sweetheart, this is…not good.”

You turn your head over to him, where he’s frowning, hands on his hips as he inspects your bedroom window.

You tilt your head, looking it over from your place on the couch. “What’s wrong with it?”

He sighs, “Well for one, the lock is broken. But even if it weren’t, this thing would be so easy to break.”

“It’s the lock the place came with.” You shrug. At least it has a lock. In Gotham that’s kind of asking a lot.

“Yeah, I can tell.” He frowns at the window once again, moving over to stand behind the couch. “I’m getting you better locks.” He looks to you, “I can install them tomorrow?”

You tilt your head up to look at him, “You don’t need to get me new locks, Jay…”

“Okay.” He kisses your head, “I’m getting them.”

You sigh in defeat, though your smile makes it lose its credibility. “Tomorrow’s fine. I assume you’re staying the night, then?”

He makes his way to the kitchen as he says, “Well, I’m not leaving you alone here with this piece of shit the only thing between you and Gotham.”

“I’ve lived here for two years.” You say flatly.

“Don’t remind me.” He mumbles as he moves behind the counter. “Actually, your door chain’s broken too, isn’t it?” It is, but that’s his own fault.

You had a long day a couple weeks ago and had a very long, very hot shower the second you got home. Unfortunately, it had slipped your mind to text him that you were home safe and he’d broken through the chain in one try to make sure you were okay.

You hum, “It wasn’t doing much anyways.” Clearly.

He grimaces as he heats up the stove for dinner.

You laugh lightly, “What?”

He looks back at you with a frankly adorable frown, “I don’t like that.”

You’d never thought much of it. You hadn’t had any—well, many—problems living here before, and you still had your deadbolt and handle lock.

“It’s okay. I’m safe here.”

He looks like he strongly disagrees. He comes back over, sitting next to you, taking your face in his hands. “Will you please let me set up some security measures around here?”

“Did Jason Todd just say please?” You say in faux-shock.

He rolls his eyes at you, “I’m serious.”

You sigh, contemplatively. “I don’t want my apartment looking like the Home Alone set.”

He laughs at that, “It’s not going to. You won’t even notice most of them. Just do it for me, please?”

“I’ll agree, but only because I know you’re going to do it anyways and I’d like to pretend I have control over this.” That’s not true, you’d agree to literally anything if he said please that sweetly again, but that’s your business.

“Fair enough.” He smiles, kissing your cheek.

No, it’s not fair at all.

It’s late. You’re not even sure how late but the city has calmed from its usual noises, indicating that your boyfriend will be home soon.

You’re coming up heavy on cramps tonight and according to the mockingly empty spot in your medicine cabinet, you’re out of ibuprofen. Yeah, it’s late, but the store on the corner is a three minute walk and fuck your stomach hurts. Jason wouldn’t like it if you went out without telling him though, so maybe you should wait until—

The sound of the living room window sliding open breaks you away from your thoughts, followed by a clatter of something hitting the ground.

You walk back into the dimly lit room, finding your boyfriend sliding the window shut again, holsters abandoned on the ground. He turns and collapses onto the couch face first, body immediately gone limp.

“Hey, baby.” You bite back a laugh, coming over to rub his muscled back from behind the couch. He groans into the cushion in response. “Why don’t you go get in bed?”

He hums almost imperceptibly, sitting up and rubbing his eyes roughly with his palms.

He stands and takes your hand in his as he passes by, tugging you towards the bedroom. The deep ache in your abdomen reminds you of your earlier train of thought. You pull your hand back, stopping in your tracks.

He turns back to you with a frown, wanting to know what could possibly be getting in his way of falling asleep, holding you close.

“I gotta go pick up some ibuprofen. I’ll be right back.” You say quietly, not wanting to disturb the quietness of the night for him. His frown deepens as you head towards the door, watching you.

You’ve got your purse in hand and are reaching for the handle when you hear his footsteps following in suit. “Hey, it’s okay. Stay here, I’m just going to the 24 hour store on the corner.”

He shakes his head, “You’re not going out in Gotham alone at two in the morning. Put your coat on, it’s cold.”

You do as you’re told, shrugging the coat on as you glance over at him. “Jason, it’s okay. You’re exhausted, go to sleep.”

He ignores you, throwing a sweatshirt on to cover up his armor, and follows you out the door; albeit far more sluggish than usual.

He was right though, the night air is bitter and slaps your face with every step forward you take. He lingers a few steps behind you, honest to god almost falling asleep mid step a couple times.

Frankly, you’re not even sure what kind of fight he’d be able to put up in this state. Though, he’s surprised you plenty of times before. In any case, his head snaps up every time there’s any sign of movement around, instantly on alert.

He trails behind you as you browse through the narrow aisles, hands stuffed in his sweatshirt.

As you’re standing at the store counter paying, his neck is craned forward, resting on your shoulder. You rub soothing circles into his hand with your thumb, though you’re sure it’s not doing anything to help his exhaustion.

You’re walking back home, the bite of the air a bit more forgiving in this direction. There’s another man walking down the sidewalk approaching, hands in pocket.

Jason’s too tired to bother with subtlety, glaring directly at the passerby before he could even think of trying anything. And it works, because the guy averts his gaze real quick and speeds up past you.

He continues working at his post from just behind you all the way until you’re back inside your apartment.

He takes the medicine container out of his pocket and cracks it open for you, wordlessly filling up a glass of water after. You gulp down a couple of the pills, and he takes the glass and bottle out of your hand the second you’re done, setting them on the counter.

He turns to you, eyes barely open, mumbling, “Can we sleep now?”

You smile at his fatigued state and take his hand, leading him to the bedroom.

Your neighbor likes you. You know it, Jason knows it.

The worst he’d done was flirt with you, badly, and shut his mouth real quick whenever your boyfriend emerged from your apartment.

And Jason let that go; he knows better than anybody that you’re heavenly and sweet and clever, of course this fucking guy likes you. Jason set an unspoken rule with himself, that he won’t get violent with any guys unless they put their hands on you. Something he knows for absolute fact your neighbor has not done.

At least he hadn’t until a couple of hours ago. You’d been in the hallway at the mailslots, your boyfriend nowhere in sight, when he decided it was the perfect time to make a move. Make several moves, actually.

You’re sitting on the couch, knees to chest, still trying to wrap your mind wround what had happened when Jason sees you. You stopped crying a while ago and you’ve entered the phase of…well. That happened.

Your hear keys jingling outside the door, followed by your boyfriend's entrance. He’s carrying some grocery bags and has a book tucked under his chin.

He lets the bags slide off his arms, and sets the book on the counter with them, beaming, “You’re never gonna guess what b—“ His smile drops when he sees you. “What’s wrong?”

You shake your head, “Nothing.” But your blinking feels off all of a sudden, and you can’t remember what you usually do with your face when you’re not lying. It doesn’t matter though, you could be an academy award winning actress and you’re still sure Jason would be able to see right through you with a single glance.

He frowns, “Don’t lie to me.” He moves towards you, kneeling down in front of you. “Please. What’s wrong?” His eyes are worried now, more than usual.

You don’t want him to worry about this. He already worries about you too much and he’s got all his vigilante stuff and…you just want to believe that this is a manageable situation and not a problem. Not something that affected you.

“It’s just…it’s not a big deal, okay? I can handle it—”

His posture stiffens and his voice suddenly goes low and serious, “What happened?”

You know where this is going. “Jason. Promise me you won’t do anything.”

His brow furrows, and his frown turns to something closer to anger. “Did someone put their hands on you? Who?”

“Jason—”

“Who did it?”

“The neighbor, b—” he immediately snaps to a stand and starts towards the door. You hurry to grab onto his hand before he can escape your proximity, “Jason. Please don’t.”

The break in your voice is enough to make his rage falter and turn back around to face you.

“Baby, if he touched you—” His eyes are pleading, begging you to let him go take care of this. If not for you, then for him.

“It wasn’t—he didn’t do anything. He didn’t get to. I hit him and he backed off.” Which is…sort of true.

He stares at you. “In the hallway?”

You blink. “…Yeah?”

He takes off towards the bedroom wordlessly. You follow quickly on his tail, watching him sit on the edge of your bed, opening his computer and clicking through it quickly.

You slide over next to him, and see that he's pulling up a file under the name of your building and today’s date. It takes you two seconds too long to realize what he’s doing, the thought only sinking in right as you see the hallway security camera footage on the screen.

“Jason—” you try to close the computer but he bats your hand away.

He forwards through the footage, as you scramble trying and failing to reach past him, various building occupants coming in and out of frame rapidly.

“—please just listen to me.” But he did listen to you, and he heard that someone tried to hurt you. That was all he needed to hear.

He stops when he sees you enter the frame, watching closely. He sees you flipping through the mail. He sees your neighbor slither out of his apartment and stand far too close to you. You take a step back only to be met with two steps forward by him. He says something to you, probably asking where your boyfriend is.

The angle doesn’t show his face, but it does see yours, and you look incredibly uncomfortable. You don’t answer him, which evidently was enough of an answer in itself.

Your neighbor tries to brush some of your hair out of your face but you snap your head away, stumbling back a little. He uses your lack of balance as an “excuse” to grab onto your waist, pulling you close to him.

Your hands are out in front of you and you’re shaking your head as he pushes towards you. His lips land on your neck and you try to move backwards, but he grabs your wrists and holds you in place.

You fight against his grip, and upon realizing that your struggling doesn’t matter to him at all, you dig your nails into his wrists so hard you draw blood. He groans in pain and his grip on you loosens.

You snap your hands away and push yourself away, locking yourself in your apartment. Your neighbor lingers for a moment, shouting something at the door before trudging back into his apartment and slamming the door.

Jason snaps the laptop shut, coming to a stand once again. His fists clinch at his sides. “That was not nothing.”

No, it wasn’t. But you feel so helpless right now. You sure as hell felt it in the hallway, and it keeps lingering in you and you’re not sure why. You couldn’t do anything then, you can’t do anything now…it feels like all the bad things in the world are closing in on you and you just have to let it happen.

“I…I don’t want anyone to die because of me…” your words aren’t quite matching your thoughts, but this is the closest you can get right now.

He pulls back to look at you, brows furrowed. “It’s—it’s not because of you. It’s because of him. Baby, if I were on patrol and saw him grab some other girl like that I’d do the same thing.”

You know that. You know that. But communication seems impossible right now even though it’s the only tool you have to stop things from closing in.

“No, I know that. I know…it’s just…” Things are closing in anyways. Alright, this is happening now. Your eyes start watering and your voice trembles.

“Fuck, baby.” His hand flies to the back of your head, other arm wrapping around your middle, pulling you to him.

You feel a bit silly, crying over the potential death of someone who tried to hurt you, in front of the Red Hood of all people.

“I’m sorry, I—I don’t know. It’s—it’s too many bad things. I can’t…”

“Okay. Okay. It’s okay. I’ll stay here. I’m staying here with you, okay?” You nod into his chest, tears dampening his shirt.

This is a temporary solution, you know that even now. But you think once it expires, it might be easier to accept whatever Jason’s going to do later.

He’s quiet for a few minutes, holding you in his arms as you sway back and forth lightly.

“Will you forgive me if I kill him?” He whispers into your hair.

You roll your eyes but smile nonetheless. “Don’t.”

“Is that a yes?”

You pull back to look him in the eyes, face setting. “I’m getting the feeling you’re going to do something regardless of how this conversation ends.” He says nothing. “Just, please, don’t kill him.”

He holds you tighter and you do the same, laying your head against his chest again. You feel him press a kiss to your head as he takes a deep breath.

You think on it for a moment, figuring it needs saying, “And don’t get in trouble.”

Your neighbor comes home late that night, trudging through the front door with a perpetual frown. He opens the door to his notably unlocked apartment. He drops his bag on the ground with a thump and flicks on the lamp next to the door. He shuts the door and turns the lock when the red elephant in the room pipes up.

“Hey, bud.”

He jumps, spinning around, “Who the fuck—oh, shit.” He freezes the second he sees him, sitting in the armchair across the room. The Red Hood nods, loading the gun in his hand.

Your neighbor stutters, “What—what are you doing here?”

He looks up at him, cocking the gun. “You put your hands on your neighbor, yeah?”

He looks fake-shocked at the accusation. “What? No, I would ne—which neighbor?”

He can’t see it, but Hood’s face drops into a deadpan. “That is really not helping your case.”

Your neighbor eyes the gun nervously.

Hood sighs, “I’m not going to kill you. I’ve been told it’s bad manners to execute someone the first time you meet.” He glances down the nail marks on his arm and steels his jaw. “No. What’s going to happen is you’re going to break your lease and move out. Within the next week.”

The neighbors eyes widen, “A week? Are you insane?”

Hood tilts his head a bit before shaking it, “Nah, you’re right. By tomorrow night.”

“This is my apartment. I live here, I’m not going anywhere. And unless you’re secretly Saul the landlord under there, you can’t do anything about it.” He crosses his arms, clearly feeling very proud of himself. Well, killing him isn’t the only option, is it?

Hood stands, making his way across the room casually. “Yeah, I thought you’d say that.” He clocks him hard on the head with the frame of his gun. He goes down quickly and loudly, clutching his head, groaning. “The alternative is getting beaten half to death and hoping whatever hospital you end up at knows what they’re doing.”

Honestly, neighbor boy is pressing his luck as is. Maybe it was a bad idea for Jason to bring the gun.

“Fuck! Fine! I’ll go!” He wails.

Hood kicks his abdomen with the side of his boot, though not nearly as hard as he wanted to. “Shut up. You’ll disturb the neighbors.”

The neighbor groans again, quieter. He mumbles something about Hood being crazy but it gets lost under the grunts of pain.

Hood crouches down next to him, patting him on the head with the barrel of his gun. “Don’t worry, bud. I’ll check up on you. And if I ever see you so much as look in the general direction of another girl I’ll put a bullet in your head. Sound good?”

Your former neighbor drops his head to the ground, hand still clutching the growing swell on his forehead.

[joelscurls]

best kept secret

pairing: dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader

words: 6.7k

summary: In an attempt to keep your relationship secret, Joel agrees to a blind date set up by his best friend / your father. You don't take it well.

warnings: 18+ minors dni, pre-outbreak, age gap (reader is in her early 20s, Joel is 36), secret relationship, angst, explicit smut, oral (f!receiving), unprotected piv, semi-public sex, car sex, creampie, some fluff; lmk if I missed anything!

a/n: so sorry it took me almost a month to post something new ffs - life got busy and my inspiration simultaneously disappeared. but we're back, baby! anyway, dbf!joel owns my ass, so here's my rendition of him. as always, ty to my baby @javisashtray for reading this over for me and helping me through the creative process <3

Joel’s bedroom window offers a perfect view of the sunrise; of shy, pink light creeping over treetops and the roof of your dad’s house across the street.

It’s gorgeous — breathtaking, even — maybe because you can count on one hand the number of times you’ve actually seen the crest of morning. You’re far more privy to late nights and sleeping in as long as you can push it,  never been one to be up with the lark, so to speak.

You don’t mind the early wakeup call, though, not when it’s this: Joel’s head tucked between your thighs, his tongue rolling lazily over your clit, your eyes still adjusting to the light as he spreads you open for him.

He’s humming against you, his coarse beard tickling soft skin, thumbs dug into muscle to hold you in place as your back bows reflexively off the mattress. He looks so sweet like this, so eager to please, staring up at you with blown pupils.

“C’mon baby,” he purrs. “Just gimme one before you go.”

They’re the first words he’s said all morning, the first thought that’s necessitated utterance. His voice is hoarse and deep and drips honey-sweet at your core. 

Even so, despite how badly you want to — because you always want Joel’s mouth on you — you’re not sure you can. 

Because you need to get home before Denise next door leaves for her early shift. Before Susan a few houses down takes her dog out for a walk.

Before the neighborhood wakes and somebody sees you leaving Joel Miller’s house. Or worse, before your dad catches you slipping into the house in yesterday’s clothes, your car in the driveway still cold.

But with another experimental flick of Joel’s tongue, you forget all that, a content little sigh slipping past your parted lips, betraying you.

Just one, you tell yourself, and then you’ll head out.

“Fuck, okay — yeah,” you breathe, twisting your fingers into the roots of his curls.

With your permission, he buries his nose in your mound. Licks at you again — with more purpose, this time. One long, drawn out lap followed by another.  

He’s so gentle with you, so careful, caressing your folds with his tongue like they’re made of paper. It’s a dizzying juxtaposition to the way he laid you down last night and fucked you, teeth scraping your neck and cock bruising your cervix.

You’re still sore, your walls tender where he stretched them, but your pussy is drooling nonetheless, surely making a mess of the bedsheets underneath you.

Because you’re insatiable when it comes to Joel. 

For the past few weeks, since the first time you’d found yourself in his bed, you’ve craved him. Regardless of how sated he’s left you each and every time, you’ve needed more. 

It’s dangerous and stupid and undeniably wrong, having a fling with your dad’s best-friend. But you’re finding it difficult to consider the morality of it all when just his tongue makes you come harder than any other man’s cock ever has. 

That tongue, now dipping into your apex, drawing more slick out of you as his thumb finds your swollen clit — It’s overwhelming how good it feels, how good he is at this.

He’s bringing you to the edge languidly, savoring the taste of you, the feel of your silky flesh. It’s like he doesn’t want this to be over, needs to stretch the moment as far as it’ll go, milk every last second before you slip from his grasp.

But it’s going to end soon; it’s inevitable with the way he’s laving your pussy, the crushed velvet of his tongue gliding through your folds so wet and warm. Your orgasm is building, and you’re powerless to stave it off any longer.

“Joel,” you warn, his name a high-pitched whine. 

“Shh, I know babygirl; it’s okay.” 

Two of his fingers hook at your entrance and push in, pacifying you as his thumb continues working your clit. “I got you. Let go for me, sweetheart.”

The soothe of his voice floods your senses like nitrous; renders your body loose and your head foggy. You come apart with a string of shattered breaths, eyes rolled back and fingers twisted into the duvet.

Joel talks you through it: that’s it, pretty girl; so good for me; always so good for me, and though he sounds so far away, his words are the only thing keeping you tethered to reality.

The world comes back into view slowly. Air settles in your lungs. And you can’t help but laugh at how fucked-out you feel when you peer down at Joel, his gaze already locked on you, expectantly.

“Okay?” he asks, rubbing at your inner thigh.

“Yeah,” you exhale, corners of your lips pulling taut. “More than okay.”

He smiles back at you. Props himself up with hands planted either side of you on the mattress and hovers over your feeble form.

“Good,” he whispers, dipping his head down to kiss your forehead, your nose, your mouth. He licks into you, letting you taste yourself on him — a little sweet, a little bitter — and his lips are so soft that you nearly melt. “Did so good, angel.” 

You want nothing more than to spend all day in this bed with him. Return the favor a few times over. Learn what he looks like in the afternoon sun against the backdrop of navy blue sheets. What he tastes like after his coffee rather than before.

“I don’t want to leave,” you admit against his mouth and he frowns, taking one of your hands in his. He presses a kiss to each of your knuckles, one by one, his eyes never straying from yours.

“I don’t want you to either, darlin’. But you can come back tonight, yeah?”

Tonight. Hours away. A whole day between now and then. But it’ll have to do. 

“Tonight,” you repeat. Solidify it. 

You slink home just as the street lights dim.

The house is quiet when you enter, apart from the incessant ticking of the grandmother clock in the living room. It sets off a throbbing in your head, a dull pang right at the front of your skull that you massage with two fingers as you ascend the stairs.

You move cautiously up each step, wincing at every creak of old wood. It must take minutes to reach the second-floor landing, and then you’re tiptoeing past your father’s room, listening for signs of sleep behind the seal of his door. Sure enough, you catch it, a single, drawn-out snore, loud enough that you let your feet fall, shuffling the rest of the way to the bathroom across the hall.

You immediately crank the shower on, climbing in as soon as you see steam. Lathering your skin with citrus-scented body wash, the smell of sex washes off your body and down the drain.

The warm water soothes your sore muscles; bittersweet relief. You stand there until the stream grows icy, stepping out and toweling yourself off just as you hear the familiar blare of your dad’s alarm on the other side of the wall.

By the time you’ve dressed and made your way downstairs, he’s already in the kitchen, nursing a cup of coffee with his back to you. 

Sink empty, counters borderline sparkling, a coaster tucked under his warm mug — your father is a neat man. He does not take kindly to mess.

God forbid, anybody disrupt the sacred balance of his home; move something and forget to put it back, break something of his that should be kept intact.

“Hey.”

“Hey, kiddo,” he yawns. Turns to face you. “You were up early. Heard the shower going.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” you lie.

“Something on your mind?”

Heat blooms across your chest and up your neck. There’s no way he knows — you’ve been far too careful. Still, you’re on edge, and the question lodges itself between your ribs uncomfortably as you frantically search for an answer.

“Uh, n-no,” you stutter. “Just work stuff, I guess.”

He seems to buy it, reaching for the percolator and re-filling his mug with a sigh, “Just gotta give it time. You only just started. Plus, it’s your first job out of school. They don’t expect you to know it all right away.”

It’s good advice, if not misguided. You nod as if you’re absorbing it, taking it straight to heart. As if your mind isn’t preoccupied.

You grab a mug from the cabinet. Fill it with coffee and creamer. Perch yourself at the breakfast table and take a slow, steadying sip.

The caffeine has just about seeped into your bloodstream when-

-there’s a knock at the door.

Your dad shoots you a puzzled look, one which you immediately return. Who could that be, so early on a Wednesday morning?

And when he pushes open the door to reveal none other than Joel, you just about fall out of your chair. Your nails absentmindedly dig into the wood of the table in an attempt to brace yourself.

“Oh, buddy — hey! Come on in,” your dad says, patting him on the back as he steps over the threshold. “Wasn’t expecting you.”

You grasp the handle of your mug like a lifeline. For a fleeting moment, you worry the ceramic will shatter in your hands.

Joel is dressed — blue cotton t-shirt covering his broad back and the deep, red scratches you left there when you dug your nails into skin, your legs hiked over his hips and your face tucked into his chest.

The pair of boxers peeking over the waistband of his jeans are different from the ones you pulled off of him last night, the ones he shimmied back into before you slept cradled in his arms.

He’s a different Joel here, now — your father’s friend, your neighbor — not the man who breaks you down with his tongue or the one who calls you his good girl while you take his entire, throbbing length. 

No, this Joel, standing in your kitchen in the presence of your father, has never betrayed him. Hasn’t tasted his friend’s daughter or felt the tight embrace of her wet, warm cunt around his cock. This Joel is reliable, honest, not one to do harm.

You do not desire this Joel, cannot. You must look at him with apathetic eyes. Must keep the boat of your longing at bay. 

Easier said than done. It’s as if your desire for him is a feral beast, fed by his touch and left starving in its wake. You feel like you’ve just run a marathon, sweat beading at your collar as you not-so-subtly follow the subconscious flex of his hands, the bunching of fabric over his biceps.

His voice bounces off the backsplash, and your fingers tighten around the handle of your mug.

“Yeah, I uh — I went to make myself coffee and realized I was out. Was hopin’ you might have some to spare?”

He can’t be serious. He came over for coffee? He couldn’t get some on the road?

“I’m afraid she took the last of it,” your dad’s eyes point to you, and you ignore the burn of Joel’s gaze when his follow.

“Ahh,” he says. “‘ts okay. I’ll grab some on my way in.” 

His fingers taptaptap on the edge of the countertop, bottom lip tucked between his teeth like there’s something else. Another reason he came here.

And then you spot it — your wallet, dark red leather, poking out the top of Joel’s back pocket. 

You must’ve left it in his room before you hurried home. Somewhere amongst the mess of trinkets and trash on his dresser. You half-remember dropping it there last night as he’d kneeled in front of you and peppered kisses up the length of your leg.

Thankfully, your dad is oblivious as ever, giving Joel the perfect opportunity to inconspicuously slip you your wallet when he turns around and crosses the kitchen, placing his empty mug in the sink. 

Joel sidesteps once, twice, extending his arm and snapping it back as soon as you have the wallet in your grasp.

Your father clears his throat. Spins to find Joel exactly where he was. “I’ve been thinking,” he starts, wrestling a slice of bread out of the bag and dropping it into the toaster, “I gotta set you up with this co-worker of mine, Deb.”

Joel freezes. You watch as the color drains from his face and his large hand anxiously cards through dark curls. You’re pretty sure you freeze too, breath caught somewhere in your throat until your dad turns to you and you remember to exhale. 

“You know Deb, right, honey?” he asks. You mentally flick through the rolodex of your dad’s coworkers. 

There’s Leanne, tall redhead, hosted a potluck a few months back at which you tasted the worst mac & cheese you’ve ever had. And Barbara from accounting, who he got into a heated argument with over who makes the best BBQ in the city. You only remember her name because he hadn’t shut up about how wrong her opinion was for a full week. 

This woman actually thinks the Smoke Shop has got better ribs than Lou’s. I said to her, Barbara, your taste buds must be absolutely torched.

But Deb? You don’t recall a Deb. Still, you’re pretty sure you hate her, just in hearing her name in this context. 

You shake your head, no. 

“Well, I guess you haven’t seen her in a while. She was there that day I brought you into the office.”

“When I was ten?” you retort. 

“Yeah, I guess it was that long ago, huh?”

You shrug. He returns his attention to Joel. “Anyway, Deb – she’s around your age, just got divorced about a year back, and she’s a real nice woman. I think you two would really hit it off.”

“Is that so?” Joel replies. You swear his voice wavers. If your dad notices, he doesn’t say anything.

“You’ll like her Joel, I promise. I mean, when’s the last time you went out with a nice lady? Not since – what was her name — Jean? And if things were going well with her, I’d hope you’d tell your old friend.” The toaster pops, and he retrieves his slice of toast. Grabs a butter knife from the utensil drawer.  

“No, I ain’t seeing Jean,” Joel sighs. Flashes you an apologetic glance as your dad slathers his toast in artificial purple jam, blissfully unaware.

“Well, you gotta get back out there!” 

Joel’s gaze rolls to the ceiling. “I don’t know – I’m just not real interested in datin’ right now.”

You exhale, then — a quiet declaration of relief that seems to go unnoticed — unperturbed even when your dad continues his pitch. 

I’ve known this woman for years Joel, I’m telling you, the two of you’d be the perfect match; she’s a looker too, real pretty.

Ew. Tuning him out, you check the clock, find that you only have a few minutes before you need to get going. You stand from the table and make your way toward the sink with your now-empty coffee mug in hand.

Would I ever lead you astray? your dad is asking just as you brush past Joel. His hand, idle by his side, catches the fabric of your blouse and you have to fight to ignore the pinprick of electricity it ignites under your skin.

“No, I know,” Joel grumbles. “I trust your judgment ‘n all, ‘ts just-”

“Will you just give her a chance?”

“Jesus; fine.”

The mug slips from your grip, falls into the sink with a clang.

Your dad glares at you, expression softening only when you gesture to the still-intact ceramic lying on its side in the basin.

He’s quickly distracted, then, jotting a series of numbers down onto a scrap of notebook paper, the blue ink pressed in so hard that it’s beginning to bleed through. 

“Atta boy,” he drawls, sliding it across the counter. Joel pinches it between two fingers, folds the paper without looking at it and stuffs it into his front pocket. 

“Promise you’ll give her a call tonight? I may or may not have already talked you up, and I need to know you’re not gonna make me look bad here.”

Joel has to see you staring at him out of the corner of his eye. He must. If looks could kill, he’d be six feet under already. But he’s refusing to meet your gaze, eyes glued to the cabinet directly in front of him as he nods. “Yeah, I’ll call her tonight,” he says, a small, unconvincing smile pulling at the corner of his lips. 

He’s actually agreeing to this?

You need to get out of here before you say something rash.

The anger bubbles in you slowly, then all at once, threatening to boil over as you slip on your shoes and sling your bag over your shoulder. 

Marching toward the door, you offer a half-hearted bye, not bothering to look back before you leave.

The office is already milling with people by the time you stroll in, ten minutes late. 

The conversation between Joel and your dad is still running laps in your head as you sneak past your boss’s door.

It sticks there through the morning and well into the afternoon, your dad’s words an incessant earworm: I think you two would really hit it off.

The thing is — you can’t blame Joel for saying yes to the setup. Not really. Your situation is complicated, messy, bound to end badly.

Maybe he’d be happier with Deb. 

They could take walks together, stroll through the grocery store or down the street  hand-in-hand. Throw dinner parties and shamelessly gush about their relationship to their friends. All without fear of being caught doing something wrong.

Because that’s what this is, you and Joel — it’s wrong. Not like you weren’t already well aware of that. Leave it to some woman you’ve never met to rub it in.

The day passes infuriatingly slow.

The pile of emails in your inbox only grows larger by the time you’re due to clock out, stack of reports on your desk barely touched. You wince when your boss stops by your cubicle on her way out, eager for an update.

“Sorry, Linda; a couple of these were more time-consuming than I’d hoped,” you lie. But you can tell she doesn’t buy it, not one bit, her expression souring as you shuffle through papers.

“I need these done by the end of the week, no matter what.”

“Of course,” you mutter, face heating with embarrassment. “I’ll get them done and on your desk by Friday.”

“Thanks.” Her heels are already clacking on tile when you open your mouth to apologize again, your sorry lost to the ether.

You gather your things and scramble to your feet as soon as she’s out of view, not sticking around to watch your computer power down. By the time you get to your car, Joel’s number is already dialed on your phone.

He picks up after two rings.

“Darlin’ — are you okay?”

It’s admittedly uncharacteristic for you to call him so early. You usually wait until after dark, when you’ve both retreated to your respective bedrooms, away from listening ears.

But this can’t wait. It’s been eating at you all day, digging into your work. If you don’t talk to him about it, you’re going to end up unemployed. You don’t bother to ask if he’s still on the job site, around other people. “You’re going on this date.” It’s not a question. More of an accusation.

“Baby,” he sighs. You try your best to ignore his molasses drawl and the way it seeps into your chest. 

“Why didn’t you say no?” 

“How could I?” he groans. “There’s your dad, askin’ me if I’m seein’ someone, sayin’ he’s already told this lady about me – what am I supposed to say?”

“I don’t know.” Your voice comes out a whine. “Make something up. Tell him you’ve taken a vow of celibacy.”

He laughs, low and breathy on the other end. “Yeah, baby. Think he’d believe that one, f’sure.”

“Fuck,” you huff. “I just— I don’t-“

You want to tell him not to go. To cancel. Fake his own death. Do whatever it takes to get out of this. But you have no right, not really. The two of you aren’t dating. You don’t have any control over what he does or who he sees. And you don’t want that, no. You just want him to choose you.

“I don’t wanna go, darlin’. I really don’t. But if I do this, I think it’ll get him off my back for a while. He won’t have a reason to suspect that I’m foolin’ around with his daughter.”

Fooling around. His phrasing is a metaphorical punch in the gut.

It’s not exactly a lie. You haven’t put a label on this thing, whatever it is. It’s been purely physical: lips slotted to lips, tongues pressed together, swapped sweat and saliva. But hearing it reduced to two words, words with such a casual connotation — as if you haven’t been driven by overwhelming desire — makes your stomach churn.

Joel doesn’t seem to clock it when you go quiet, a cocktail of rage and sorrow sloshing around your insides. “It’s for the best,” he adds, a shot of hard, burning liquor. 

“Yeah,” you say defeatedly. Choke back the pathetic tears that creep up your throat. “For the best.”

He ends the call with the excuse of bad cell reception. Promises to talk to you later. You’re not sure that you believe him.

The phrase fooling around curls up in your head, a wet dog, its fur dripping into the crevices of your rattled brain the entire drive home.

You dodge Joel’s calls for the remainder of the week.

There’s no use in talking to him when you have nothing to say, when you know any words you attempt will be overtaken by tears.

Even so, it doesn’t stop him from trying. His number lights up the screen of your phone at least twice a day.

He leaves voicemails that you do not listen to. You can’t. The last thing you need is his syruppy drawl in your ear. You’ll break; you know you will.

So instead, you delete them. Rid yourself of temptation.

But you still ache for him — a devastating truth. You lumber through the days, bones heavy with hurt. Find yourself kept up at night by thoughts of Joel and the infuriatingly soothing timbre of his voice, the intoxicating callous of his fingertips against your soft skin. 

It’s a lonely thing, yearning for Joel Miller.

On Friday, your father beams at the dinner table. He’s grinning like a child as he stuffs a forkful of rice into his mouth.

“Joel and Deb’s date is tomorrow,” he says. “Think they’ll really hit it off, don’t you?”

You’re dumbfounded for a long moment — can’t believe that this is your life now: being asked about your thoughts on Joel and the ever-elusive Deb as a couple. When it takes too long for you to answer, your father’s fork stills pointedly on his plate, and you sputter.

“Oh! I mean, I don’t know. Like I said, I don’t remember Deb.” You can’t help your condescending tone. Your dad doesn’t seem to catch it anyway. 

“Well,” he says, “I think they’ll be a match. Hoping so, anyway. The man has been such a hermit lately — maybe if he has a lady, he’ll get out more!”

“You sound real excited,” you grumble. Stab four peas on the prongs of your fork.

“It is exciting. I’ve never set anyone up before. And the best part is, the place they’re going to — the Tavern — it’s got rooms you can rent out for wedding receptions. Just imagine if down the line, they got mar-“

“Dad,” you stop him. You think you’ll be physically sick if you let him finish that sentence. “Sorry, I just — I’m really tired, all of a sudden. I think I’m going to head to bed early.”

It’s not a complete lie. You’re emotionally exhausted as a result of the past couple days. Sleep sounds like a much-needed, blissful escape right now.

Your dad doesn’t question you. He just nods. Swipes your plate from in front of you and brings it to the sink along with his.

Of course, you find it impossible to actually drift off that night. Tossing and turning, you battle the glaring urge to get up, slink into the home-office and look up directions to the Tavern. 

Not that you’re planning to go there anytime soon — you’re just curious. That’s all. 

Around midnight, you give up, pad down the hallway and into the room parallel yours. The computer dials up slowly, and you chew your bottom lip as you wait. 

You snatch a piece of paper from the printer and a pen from the #1 Dad mug that sits next to the monitor. Click on the internet icon and type the words into the search bar.

This is definitely a bad idea. Maybe the worst you’ve had in a while.

You jot the address down anyway.

Downtown Austin is buzzing with life. 

Patrons spilling out of bars, tourists striding down the street in their brand new Stetsons – it almost distracts you from the task at hand. 

At just past seven, you’d told your dad you were going out, meeting a friend for drinks. He’d been a bit taken aback, seeing as you’re not very social these days, but he’d seemed happy. Relieved. 

That’s not what you’re doing, of course.

No – in reality, you’re turning into the parking lot attached to the Tavern. It’s packed to the brim with cars, but you still manage to find Joel’s truck, its license plate number burned into the back of your mind after countless mornings of absently reading it as you snuck past.

It’s idle and empty when you inch by, and even though you knew he’d be here, on this date, your heart still sinks. Because maybe a tiny part of you had hoped he’d stand Deb up. 

You should leave. It was stupid to come here in the first place. What are you going to do — storm inside and demand that he leave with you?

You consider it for half a second, groaning when you realize how pitiful you are. Defeated, you swing your car into a spot at the back, facing the building, and shift it into park. You hug the steering wheel dejectedly.

From here, you have a straight-shot view of the restaurant’s entrance, a set of double doors at the side of the building. Groups spill out every so often, every pair that emerges causing your back to arch reflexively.

Joel and Deb are probably discussing their interests right now, bonding over a shared connection with your dad. You can vividly picture the smile likely plastered across his face — the same one you’ve elicited with sweet filth whispered in his ear.

And you’re here, sitting in your running car, watching the door. Your pulse thumps obnoxiously loud in your ears.

Minutes pass like molasses, slow and thick. You watch the clock on the car radio obsessively, betting with yourself on what time they’ll leave. After thirty minutes of nothing, you’re convinced that they’re going to close the place out.

But then the door opens again, and you straighten up, immediately met with the sight of Joel and Deb. 

She’s talking animatedly, eyes widening every few words, blonde hair wafting around her narrow face. It’s undeniable that she’s stunning, even from far away; possesses the kind of beauty you see on magazine covers in line at the grocery store. The jealousy that pools in your gut burns like acetone in an open wound.

She takes his arm as they walk toward the parking lot, and he lets her, despite the rest of his body appearing strangely rigid.

You wonder if he’ll take her home. Lead her to his truck, help her up the step to the passenger seat and sneak a look at her ass under her dress before shutting the door. If they’ll leave her car in the lot for the night, come back to retrieve it in the morning once he’s helped her forget about her loser ex-husband; let the scent of her perfume seep into the bed sheets to cover up yours.

But he doesn’t lead her to his truck. You watch as they unexpectedly turn down a row of cars, disappearing from your view completely, his arm still locked with hers. 

He could still kiss her. Press her against the car. Promise her that he’ll call — and he will, first thing tomorrow. He’s probably just being a real gentleman. Treating her like a woman he might want to marry someday. 

Maybe he knows, after just one date, that she’s his soulmate. He’ll buy the ring in a couple weeks. They’ll be engaged in a month’s time, and he’ll say he just couldn’t wait any longer. 

She’s the one thing I’ve been missing.

You stew in the agonizing unknown for what feels like hours before Joel materializes once again, backside illuminated by headlights as he strides toward his truck.

And then — he stops. You see the exact moment he notices your car in the parking lot, his eyebrows threading together and his hands splaying over his hips.

He’s staring directly through the windshield. At you.

Fuck.

He takes a few slow steps. Stops in front of the hood. Narrows his eyes and flexes his jaw.

With a deep breath, you unlock the doors. Gesture for him to get in the passenger side. 

He immediately rounds the car, prying the door open and climbing inside just as a SUV pulls out the row he and Deb had walked down. 

The door slams when he yanks it closed. The sound echoes through the cab of the car.

“You wanna fuckin’ explain what you’re doin’ here?” he snaps. You’re afraid to look him in the eye, embarrassment and now, anger, spooling hot behind your ears.

You know you’re in the wrong. You shouldn’t have followed him. But does he have to be so hostile?

When your gaze finally meets his, he looks — distraught — jaw clenched and lips set in a straight line. His fingers absently dig into denim-covered thighs.

“I don’t know,” you mumble, “I just wanted to see how you were with her.” And it’s the truth; not one you want to be admitting right now, to him, but it’s the truth nonetheless.

“Doesn’t give you the right to spy on me.”

“So what was I supposed to do? Sit at home and mope while the guy I was seeing is on a date with someone else? Oh no, I’m sorry,” you throw your hands up, form air quotes with your fingers, “the guy I was fooling around with.”

This seems to strike a nerve. His jaw twitches, and his fingers still on his lap.

“It wasn’t like that,” he grits

“No? Isn’t that all this was to you: fooling around?”

There’s a beat. Joel sighs. 

“No — fuck, no. Of course not.”

His expression softens. A crack in solid stone. “I tried callin’ you,” he says, voice barely above a whisper.

“I know,” you admit.

He nods. Another beat.

“Did you kiss her?” you ask.

“No.” He says it with intent, with promise, eyes firmly locked on yours now. 

Your mouth goes dry.

“No?”

“No,” he repeats. “I didn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I didn’t want to.”

“You don’t want her?” 

“No,” he says flatly, his pupils bulging in the lamplight, black bleeding into the brown of his irises. “I don’t want her.” 

“Why not?” 

He leans forward. His weight presses into the center console and his breath fans your face — warm, tinged with the scent of cheap beer.

“I don’t want her,” he says, voice an octave lower, “because I want you. I thought you knew that?” 

The radio drones between the two of you, some classic rock song you think you recognize flitting through the speaker. Your pulse beats staccato in your throat, off tempo.

“You want me?” you ask, a little breathless, and the next words you say are beyond dumb, beyond reckless, but you say them anyway. “Prove it.”

Joel doesn’t hesitate. He closes the slight distance between you and kisses you, hard, his tongue frantically sliding against yours through parted lips.

It’s sloppy, and desperate, and you feel drunk on the taste of him, on longing laced with carnal need. He’s groaning into your mouth, grabbing your head with both hands, burying his fingers in your hair — as if he can’t get close enough, as if he’ll only be satisfied once he’s swallowed you whole. You’re pretty sure you want him to.

Your hands move frantically to his t-shirt, then, bunch into the fabric and pull. You need to feel the skin underneath, need to rove your hands along his bare chest. He accommodates, tugging the shirt by the back of the collar, lips separating from yours ever-so-briefly to bring it over his head and toss it onto the backseat. 

And then he’s back on you, licking into your mouth again, eliciting a whimper from you when his hand wraps around the side of your throat, just under your jaw. 

Your palms splay across his torso, wander over warm, golden skin. You’ve missed this, god, you’ve missed this — but it’s still not enough. You need to feel more of him. In your mouth, in your hand, in your cunt — you’re not picky. Just need him in whatever way he’ll provide.

“Joel,” you whimper into his mouth, fingers winding around his bicep. 

He pulls back. Peers at you through hooded eyes. “What is it, baby?” he asks through labored breaths. 

“Need you — please.”

He immediately unbuckles your seatbelt. Lowers his seat back and manhandles you onto his lap. You go easily; slot yourself to him with legs folded on either side of his thighs. 

Wrapping your arms around the back of his neck, you grind down into his lap. His cock strains against denim underneath you. He groans when you swivel your hips and brush the heft of it again with your clothed heat.

“You gonna let me fuck you?” he asks into your mouth, his forehead pressed to yours.

Your breath catches. 

You know what he’s really asking: are you going to  let him fuck you here, in the parking lot of a public establishment, where anybody could see?

But you don’t care. In fact, you’re way past caring, the emptiness of your cunt too painful to ignore any longer. Let them watch him take what’s his.

You nod frantically. “Yes,” you pant. “Please.”

Joel nods too, as if he’s accepting his fate. He’s going to fuck his friend’s daughter in the passenger seat of her car. There’s no way around it — not when you’re begging for it. He’s going to give you what you need.

“Okay,” he soothes, “I got you baby.” 

He helps you out of your pants, then; clumsily maneuvers them down and off your legs along with your panties and tosses them aimlessly into the back.

He doesn’t bother to take his jeans off. Lets you unzip them and pop the button open, your nimble fingers making quick work of it. And then you’re pulling his cock out of his boxers, stiff and leaking in your grasp.

You steady yourself with hands on his shoulders just as he begins to pepper placating kisses along your neck. “Go ahead baby,” he whispers into your ear. “Take it; it’s yours.”

His head falls back against the seat as you stroke him a few times and line his cock up with your dripping entrance, his hands clasped around your waist. 

You sink down slowly, savoring every inch of him as he burrows in deeper. He’s so thick, stretching you like it’s the first time again, your walls fluttering as they relax around his cock.

“Fuck,” Joel slurs, fingers digging into your skin impatiently when you still, fully seated on him.

“Gotta move baby — please move.”

He’s so fucking deep, though, his cockhead bumping your cervix, and your entire body feels gelatinous atop him. A cloying sort of heat hangs around your head. You swivel your hips weakly, your forehead falling to rest on his with a heavy sigh.

Joel is happy to take control, bucking up into you so hard you see stars. You can’t suppress the string of moans that spill from your mouth, and Joel doesn’t seem to mind. He’s just as loud, anyway, his broken sounds bleeding into yours, bouncing off glass and leather.

Neither of you can muster an actual word, though, not with him rutting up into you, sheathing himself in your pussy over and over again. He’s relentlessly hitting that spot — the one that has you practically clinging to him for dear life. 

It’s approaching too quickly; he’s going to make you come.

One of your hands flies to the roof of the car in an attempt to brace yourself, flat palm pressing into it so hard you worry it’ll pop. 

Joel takes the opportunity to drag you down in his lap, spearing you on his cock, and the sudden change in angle makes you cry out.

“Oh f— ahh, oh my—“

“That’s it,” he coos, “you got it, babygirl.”

His words tip you over the edge, your entire body locking up as you gush around him. You’re wetting his lap, slick splattering his thighs, and he loves it, his fervid moan telling you so.

His movements begin to falter then, hips stuttering underneath you as he chases his own high.

“Cmon, baby,” you goad, “please fill me up.”

He grunts when he spills inside, his face nestling in your chest, heaving as he works through it and begins to come down. You don’t move, not that Joel would let you, still holding you on his lap like he’s afraid to let you go.

You nuzzle into his embrace as his cock softens inside you.

You stay like that for a while, probably too long given that anybody could easily look into the car and see you straddling him. You don’t have the energy to care.

Eventually, you lift your head from its spot on Joel’s chest. Look up at him with bleary eyes.

“Joel,” you say.

He meets your gaze, face shiny with sweat and his hair a mess. He looks gorgeous like this, you think. The way only you get to see him.

“Yeah?” He grazes along your arm with featherlight fingers. His touch raises goosebumps on your skin.

“Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?”

“About wanting me.” In truth, you’re not sure you want the answer. But you need to know, definitively, if Joel is yours. You’re done sharing him.

“Oh, baby,” he drawls. “Of course I do. You’re all I want. Do you want me?”

And it’s a stupid question. He has to know that. You’re nodding before he can even finish it. “Yes,” you breathe. “I want you, Joel”

“Then it’s settled. It’s me and you. No more…interlopers.”

You giggle. Reluctantly separate yourself from his body and re-dress. You settle back into the driver’s seat with achy legs.

You’ve never felt more content than you do in this moment.

Still, you’ll have to hide — won’t be able to share the news of your new relationship with friends or coworkers, your dad — and neither will Joel. 

You don’t care much, not as long as he’s yours, but you need to be sure he feels the same.

“Joel,” you stop him as he opens the passenger-side door to get out. He stills with one leg swung out the door.

“Yeah, darlin’?”

“Are you sure you don’t mind…being a secret? Don’t mind keeping me a secret?”

He looks at you like you have two heads.

He pulls his leg back into the car. Shuts the door and leans over the console again.

Taking your chin between his fingers, he forces your gaze. Makes sure you’re listening.

“I want you — doesn’t matter who knows or doesn’t know. Long as you’re mine.”

Your chest tightens, and your heart squeezes inside your ribcage.

“I’m yours?”

He smiles. Presses a chaste kiss between your eyes, on the tip of your nose, on your lips. The same way he did the other morning. 

It all feels somehow sweeter, now.

“Yeah, angel. You’re mine. My girl.”

end notes: tysm for reading! please consider commenting and/or reblogging if you enjoyed! I've been toying with the idea of turning this into a series so lmk if that's something you'd be interested in hehe.

Also, I hopped on the bandwagon and made a sideblog for notifs! I'll be doing away with a taglist from here on out, so follow @joelscurlsupdates & turn on notifications if you wanna be notified when I post a new fic :-)

tag list: @janaispunk @amanitacowboy @fhatbhabie @frannyzooey @lola8888673

[devil-in-hiding]

It’s a downpour tonight. The roof overhead rattles with the force of the winds outside, keeping you awake. Your eyes drift towards the window periodically, watching the lightening illuminate the night sky, thunder rolling closer and closer as the wind hails. Your four loyal mastiffs lay around your bed, dead to the storm raging outside. You’d normally have them out in the barn, but with how hard it’s coming down you would have felt terrible leaving them out in the rain.

But now you lie awake, worry in the pit of your stomach. Some of the goats had just given birth, and with this storm you knew the kids had to be distressed, and their bleats often agitated the horses.

You absentmindedly reach down to run a hand through Dixon’s fur, who lets out a pleased huff, nuzzling your palm. You try to let the beat of rain lure you to sleep, eyes finally feeling heavy as your breathing evens out.

But then you hear it, over the raging of the storm you can still hear your stallion, Sebastian, neighing, and then the pound of his hoofs against his stalls, and your flying out of your bed.

Nothing spooks your stallion, absolutely nothing.

You race down the stairs in just your nightgown, rushing to pull on your boots, no socks, as Dixon, Grimes, Judy and Maggie come bounding after you. You throw open the door, the screen slamming against the house from the wind but you pay no mind, running towards the barn, barely catching yourself from slipping in the mud.

The closer you get, the louder you can hear all your stock. Your hearts pounding harder than the rain when you reach the barn doors, and you can hear the dogs barking behind you as you reach to yank the double doors open.

Locked.

Your barn is never locked.

From the inside.

“Hello?!” You yell, slamming your palms against the wood, guilt wracking your body when you hear something scurry away on the other side.

“What are you doing in there?” You scream, shaking the handles with all your might, but they held strong, and after a harsh yank, your hand slips, sending you flying into the mud.

You can hear what can only be described as chaos in the barn, and tears prick your eyes as you crawl forward, banging your fists against the doors.

“PLEASE! Please don’t hurt my animals! They’re already scared from the storm! Please- AH!” You scream as the door flies open, sending you face first into the barn floor.

You barely register the blood dripping from your hands as you scramble to stand up, taking in the scene.

The mares were going wild, bucking and kicking the doors of their stalls while Sebastian raged, having busted his door down, prancing infront of his ladies protectively.

Your goats were huddled in a group on the corner, the kids tucked between their bodies and the sheep standing in front of them, shaking so badly their wool was trembling. The rest of the stock is scattered, hiding in various corners of the barn.

You whistle, which immediately catches Sebastian’s attention, huffing and puffing.

“I’m here! It’s okay, ma is here!” You hush them, slowly walking towards the stallion with your hand out, palm up.

He neighs, tossing his head, leaning down to sniff your hand, when he stops, and suddenly a new sound reaches your ears.

Dixon and Grimes are growling out a warning.

Before you can even blink, there’s a hand over your mouth, and the pressure of something cold at your neck, an arm wrapping around your chest pulling you into a firm, solid figure.

“Not. A. Sound.”

[save-the-villainous-cat]

With all the strength they had left, the hero crawled into the villain’s apartment through the window. After surviving the superhero, this should have been easy but it turned out to be exhausting.

The hero had landed in the bathroom and without wasting another second, they pulled themselves up and searched through the cabinets. Unfortunately, their bloody hands left enough evidence of them breaking in already. They supposed they’d have to face the villain sooner or later, even if that meant the villain was going to throw them out again.

For now, they found something close enough to practical — a razor — and opened the first aid kit the villain usually stored under the cabinet. Before they could take out the blades, the villain opened the door.

“You’re not as quiet as you think.” The hero looked at them and smiled softly. Teeth stained with blood, heavy limbs.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” they said. With no hesitation, the villain helped them up and took the razorblades out of their hands.

“What happened to that pretty face?” they asked. With one hand on the hero’s hip, they reached for a clean towel and turned on the sink. They let the soft fabric drench in warm water and gently cleaned up the hero’s face.

It all happened so fast. The villain didn’t seem to mind that the hero was here in the middle of the night.

And they were close. So close.

Whereas the villain was focused on the hero’s face and getting rid of all that blood, the hero stared into their eyes. Maybe it was this cruel change: brutal violence coming from someone they had adored to gentle tenderness from someone they had loathed.

The villain looked down at them. Their thumb traced the hero’s jawline and the hero looked away, almost ashamed.

“You look like shit,” the villain whispered. “And you woke me up.”

“I’m sorry,” the hero said. They looked at the villain’s clothes — their underwear and a shirt. The hero blushed a little. They took the villain’s hand and reached for the razorblades. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

The hero let go of them with a gaze that lingered a little too long.

“They chipped me,” the hero explained. They cleaned the blade with some rubbing alcohol and took in a deep breath. “Chipped me like a fucking dog.”

They cut into their own forearm, watching as the blood ran down their skin. It burnt even more than the open wounds on the hero’s back. They supposed they just had gotten used to that sort of pain, even if that was impossible.

With the blade, they dug through skin and muscle, clenching their teeth until they found the little tracker. They cursed when they pushed their fingers into the wound to fish it out.

Once they had the bloody device in their hand, they let it fall to the ground and crushed it under their boot.

“I knew trackers are useless at your place. You’ve slipped through my fingers quite a few times that way.”

The villain didn’t say anything. They just stared at the hero who cleaned their arm.

It wasn’t exactly easy to crawl to their nemesis and beg for shelter. The hero was too proud to do that anyway and they had planned to leave after cutting out the microchip.

“I’m sorry to have bothered you,” the hero said.

“You didn’t bother me.” The villain took a step forward and took the hero’s hands. “Are you alright?”

The hero frowned.

“Of course I am. I’m fine. I’m doing great.”

“You’re sure about that?” The villain let their fingers intertwine and suddenly, the hero felt very tired very quickly. “You’ve been so busy these last few days. I barely got to see you. They sent over some other lame heroes.”

The hero chuckled tiredly.

“I mean, why would they think I am satisfied with all the other rabble?” One of their hands glided down the hero’s forearm where they put pressure on the wound. “You always wanted to be a hero. When did that change?”

“I don’t know,” the hero said but the desperation and the hopelessness were already settling in. It didn’t even buy them time to lie to the villain. One way or another they found out anyway and most of the time, they asked the hero questions they already had the answers to.

The hero couldn’t really take it anymore. The pain was too much, their mind was breaking more and more.

“Oh, so many tears on such a pretty face,” the villain said. They pulled the hero closer and wiped their tears away with the back of their hand. “Don’t you know it’s not your fault?”

“They turned against me,” the hero said. Their voice trembled. “All of them. They chipped me, they put a bounty on my head. They’re trying to kill me because I don’t agree with…with all this shit.”

The villain cupped their face. “With what?”

“With all this stupid collateral damage and these dumb advertisements. Most of the time I feel like a mascot, I’m barely saving any people.”

“Oh, darling.” The villain tilted their head. Their presence was comforting in a way the hero hadn’t had experienced before. Whatever they’d done to each other in the past, the hero didn’t care. They were familiar, they were warm. The hero wasn’t going to let anyone take this moment away from them. “And who exactly beat you up like this? Your boss, I assume?”

“…yeah.” They could play pretend. They could pretend the villain was closer, that they were more than acquaintances. Even if it wasn’t real, even if the villain was using them, the hero needed some affection right now. They’d gladly give the heartbreak to their future self.

“My poor hero,” the villain said softly. “Would you let me stitch you up?”

The hero nodded.

“I’ll protect you,” the villain promised. They pulled them close to hug the hero. The hero didn’t understand why they were so gentle, so kind. Most of the time, they insulted each other like children. But the hero needed this. They really did. “They will pay for this.”

[tojipie]

BABES i love ur writing sm ugh can i request a how prisoner toji met the love of his life? mwah thank you

prison bf series linked here !

content: (p in v smut, car sex, fluff, angst, fem!reader)

you met toji on a weeknight during the short time you worked as a waiter in the city.

the restaurant was empty, save for him at a table in the corner. it was 30 mins before closing time, and the older man showed no signs of leaving. whether that was to your chagrin or your delight was still unclear.

“so that’s the foie gras and the bottle of La Grande Dame?” you ask sleepily, setting the meal down with a shaky hand.

“that’s right.” the raven haired man tells you, pouring himself a glass of the ridiculously pricey wine. “thanks kid.”

to say that you were nervous would be an understatement, you were terrified. the man in front of you was gorgeous, broad with raven hair and a deep scar running the height of his lips. you’d be blushing if it weren’t for the fatigue that’d settled throughout the length of your body. 9 hour shifts were no joke.

toji glances over at you, taking in the tremble of your hands. you’re a sweet little thing, probably new to the college you attend, working past midnight to pay off whatever you still owe from last semester.

“hey.” he whispers, motioning to the table, “sit down for a little.”

you glance around the restaurant in horror, he’s not talking to you right? he can’t be. you slowly let him lead you into the chair that lies opposite to his, sighing at the relief you feel in your thighs and shoulders.

“thank you.” you mumble, laying your head down on the cool wood of table. he chuckles at that, watching you rub the aches from your neck and shoulders. you don’t care who sees, much less if this interaction costs you your job.

“tired?” he teases, pushing his plate towards you.

“have some, pretty girls need to eat.”

“mm no thank you. i don’t like duck.” you mumble, letting the deep bass of his laughter lull you right to sleep.

you were fired within minutes, that much is obvious. doomed to hand in your little name tag and apron while the raven haired man bickers with your manager at the door.

“you call yourself a businessman? you work her like a fucking dog and you think that makes you a pimp or something? i told her to nap. she fucking needed the sleep!”

you tug on the sleeve of his suit jacket, urging him to follow you out the door. toji sighs, running hand through his hair.

“it’s ok.” you tell him, “i was gonna quit before spring break came anyways.”

sleeping on the job at a Michelin star restaurant probably wasn’t the best course of action. though it wasn’t all bad, you did end up receiving the best fuck of your life that same night.

“oh my god—fuck! oh my god.” you pant, digging your fingernails into the driver’s seat headrest. the raven haired man ruts into you from below, wrapping both hands around your waist to use as leverage.

“shit, you’re a nice piece of ass kid.” he mutters, reaching down to rub your little button with the pad of his thumb. you feel your stomach erupt in flames at the crude compliment. why hadn’t you tried fucking customers before?

you hang onto the back of the seat for dear life, wailing as you drip all over his thighs.

“look, that’s all for me?” he asks, pulling your cheeks apart to see where the two of you connect. the older man leans forward to suck on your neck, voice shaky with the force of his impending climax.

“you’re gonna make me fucking cum, you know that? fuck.” the way he holds you so sweetly deeply contrasts the filth he spews right into your skin. you’ve never been this cock-drunk in your life, babbling nonsense in the back of a horrifyingly spacious bmw while a man you met an hour ago pummels your cunt open.

it’s quiet as the two of you drive back to your place. toji’s suit jacket is draped around your shoulders, shielding you from the frigid night air. the windows are cracked to let the cold in, no doubt to try and get all the glass in the car to unfog.

jesus. you just want to go to bed.

“this is me.” you tell him, gathering your bag from the floor to enter your apartment. the raven haired stranger slips you a card with a number on it. you pocket it and thank him, giddy at his implication of seeing you again.

“i had fun tonight.” you tell him shyly, leaning over to peck the scar on his mouth. he groans, pulling you towards him to kiss your forehead.

“you take care of yourself ok? no more dead end jobs.” you nod, kissing him again.

“here.” he says sternly, slipping a rubber-banded roll of cash through the opening in your purse.

you pause, stomach turning sour at the gesture.

“i’m not a hooker, you don’t need to pay me just because we had sex.” you mutter, digging in your bag to give the money back.

“you know that’s not why i gave it to you.” he tells you plainly. tucking a loose strand of your behind your ear.

“do what you need to do, pay off what you need to pay, and then call me so i can take you out on a real date.”

you pause, looking at the ground shyly.

“ok?” he asks.

you nod, reaching to intertwine your fingers.

“ok.”

tag list ! <3 🏷️

@honeybee54321 @m150-50up @kuryoomi @t4naiis @serendippindots @sillyalo @levixbby @powerrwa @tojishugetiddies

[compact-turtle]

Yandere Farmer character x GN reader 

Concept: Yandere Farmer x GN reader 

Tw: Delusional Yandere, Age-gap?, Obsessive, Possessive PART 2 <-

-Yandere Farmer who lives alone on a farm.  There was no one to comfort him, make him any meals, or lay in bed with. It hadn’t dawned on him how much he desired a family. 

-A cute little spouse who would stay home and greet him with a kiss. They’d whisper sweet words as they threw their arms around his neck. Children that would run to his side after a long day. 

-Yandere Farmer who opens the door to three college students. They’re all standing on his porch eagerly asking if they can stay the night. They explain that their car died on the road. Honestly, he doesn’t give a shit.  He’s about to kick them off his property until they offer him money. 

-Yandere Farmer who reluctantly lets them in. He tells them they can figure out sleeping arrangements in the living room. He’s about to go to bed when one of the students stops him. They ask for a favor. Their stubborn friend refused to follow them and insisted on sleeping in the car. They ask for him to pick up their friend. 

-And he’s about to decline the favor. Until they offer some more cash incentives. He groans internally but hops into his red pickup truck. His trusty revolver is strapped onto his side. However, he deploys his two guard dogs to watch the house before he leaves. 

-He drives down the road until he spots an abandoned car. He gets out of the truck with his flashlight.

- Slowly, he approaches the car windows. He shines a light inside and his heart skips a beat. There you are fast asleep tucked in with a blanket.

- The moonlight shines over your face as you snuggle deeper into the blanket. You were the prettiest thing he'd seen in a long time. 

-You were so vulnerable.  What if he was a bad guy? It would be so easy to take advantage of you. Good thing he stumbled upon you instead of some creep. 

-It feels like hours as he simply stares at your face. You look like a fairy who descended upon earth. He felt wrong waking you up from such a peaceful slumber. Yet, it’d be much safer in his arms at his house rather than this dingy car. 

“Ay, Wake up.” 

-He watches as your eyes begin to open in confusion. You look around until he knocks on the window. Your eyes dart up and go wide. Just like a deer caught in the headlights. 

-He explains the situation then insists you get into his car. You reply that you’d rather spend the night in the car. You don’t want to trouble him. 

-How sweet. You think you have a choice. 

-In the end, you were forced into his pickup truck. He threw your luggage in the trunk then slid in the driver seat. The car choked to life as he shifted it into drive. The atmosphere was tense. 

-You’re silent. He’s silent. 

- Yandere Farmer who doesn’t know what to talk about. He doesn’t have much experience interacting with other people. He grew up mainly isolated with overbearing parents who were abusive. (Good thing he fixed that problem though)

-However, his gruff voice breaks the uncomfortable tension between you two.

“What’s yer name?” 

“Y/n” You answered back meekly. 

“Got a loverboy waiting for you?”

-You shake your head. He listens to how you mentioned that you’ve never been in a relationship.  

-Good.

[lilac-5ky]

Holed Up (Husband!Toji x Fem!Reader)

mini kinktober tribute: stuck in a wall/hole

plot: you should've known that asking Toji to help you out of a hole would lead him inside another—or that time you got stuck in the dog house and he bailed on you for KFC.

tags: MDNI, stuck in a wall/hole, pet play (kinda), breeding, doggy style, fingering, oral sex (f. receiving), spanking, pet names (bitch, baby), established relationship, crack plot, unsolicited kfc orders, i promise toji loves reader, he's just joking guys.

wc: 2.2k

Masterlist | Kinktober Masterlist | AO3

“Whatcha doing?”

Sarcasm rolls from your husband’s tongue as he stares down at you. Back arched, knees bent, and head encased by wooden planks. Not the most flattering position to be found in, especially with how the light autumn breeze blows at your dress and parts its layers, opening a window to the pink panties of your choice.

His question feels excessive. He knows exactly what you are doing. It was only this morning that you asked him to dig poor ol’ Mister Stinky’s remains from the dog house and he claimed he’d rather buy his son a replacement. No arguing there, but should Megumi see what became of his favored stuffed animal—fuzzy entrails gutted out of the frog’s shredded belly in a path initiating from his bedroom—he’ll be having nightmares for weeks to come.

Besides, you doubt synthetic is the kind of fiber your vet prescribed for your puppy's diet.

“What you should’ve done instead.” You finally spit out, contempt over what Toji’s long fingers could’ve accomplished without him needing to stick half his body into a hole like your, admittedly, dumbass self did.

“For thirty minutes straight? Damn, seems I overestimated ya.”

Even though your view of him is limited to a pair of overworn black slippers, you can vividly picture his scarred lips pulling over his teeth in another of his complacent smirks that scream I told you so.

“Don’t have anything better to do than time me?”

“Nah,” Toji drawls. “Grew tired of waiting on ya, so I thought I’d come see how it’s going.”

“It’s going great!” You lie through your teeth. Anyone with a functioning pair of eyes could see how non-great this is going. “Anything else you need?”

“Well it is noon.” He points out.

“And?”

“And my darling wife’s out ‘ere, rolling in the mud when she should be having lunch with me.”

A snort flares in your nostrils. He is unbelievable.

“What a cute way of letting me know you’re hungry, Toji. You know, if you’d actually helped, I would’ve had the time to set the table and give Mister Stinky a proper burial, but I can’t do both at the same time, can I?”

“Mhm, so how ‘bout we help each other?” He suggests, undeterred. “I get your ass out, and you cook us somethin’ tasty real quick.”

“Wh-who said I was stuck? I can get out whenever I want.”

“Really, huh? What keeps ya from getting out this instant, then?”

“I don’t want to.” You answer wryly. “I like it here. It’s quiet, and I could use some time for myself.”

“In the dog house.” His tongue clicks against the roof of his mouth. He’s not buying an ounce of what you’re selling. “C’mon, don’t be stubborn. You’ll end up reeking of dung if ya stay here a minute longer. Lemme give ya a hand.”

You know that accepting his help comes at the exorbitant price of utter humiliation, but he’s got a point. Last night’s downpour emanates strongly from the saturated wood, a dizzying smell that turns overwhelming when combined with the strong odor of what you sincerely hope is not piss. Your knees are on the verge of collapsing, and there’s more dirt in your nails than if you dug a grave barehanded. Right now, a day in the bathtub seems like a panacea for your every issue.

Almost.

Kissing your teeth, you resign with a long-drawn sigh that’s barely audible over the rumble in your stomach. You shouldn’t have skipped breakfast.

A moment passes before you hear the crunch of leaves as they rustle beneath his feet; see a second pair of knees take place between your own. Then it’s two hands gripping at your hips, and eventually, a face—your husband’s handsome face that beams with a smug smile and eyes of mischief.

“Lookin’ good, sweetheart.” He greets, though you doubt he sees your face with all the hair that’s curtaining over your eyes while you hang upside down.

“What are you doing, Toji?” You recycle his question in an aggravated tone that fizzles out the second you feel his thumb press against your panties and tug the fabric to the side.

“Nothin’. Just curbing my hunger.” His finger teasingly glides across your nether lips and lands at your clit, while a palm large enough to envelope both your ass and cunt kneads at the tender flesh he’s offered. “Fridge’s empty, so.”

“This isn’t funny!”

“‘m not laughing, but c’mon. You hafta admit it’s pretty damn funny.” Warm air wafts from Toji’s mouth as he inches closer to your thighs. “Y’always whine when I fuck you from behind, but now? Look at you. Bent on all four like a real bitch.”

“T-Toji!”

Your breath hitches in your throat as he slides two fingers in your hole, languidly scissoring them in and out until there’s enough slick to lather your clit with. He circles around the nub while his fingers prod deeper inside, the icy touch of his wedding band clashing with the heat that sparks through your body when he bottoms out. A smothered moan gains echo as it bounces off the walls and into his ears.

“Such a well-trained pup,” Toji praises, retrieving his palm to lick his fingers. “Might win yourself a collar at this rate.”

You bite back your tongue before it can react to his backhanded comment, reminding yourself that you’re still outside, right where your neighbors can peek over the white picket fence for a quick hello and catch you slutting yourself out on your husband’s fingers.

“Can’t we continue this inside? Mrs. Honda is right next door, and M-Megumi—” You stutter when his palm returns to your body, its twin joining in spreading your cheeks further apart.

“Kid’s at school for another hour,” Toji mumbles, his hot tongue parting your folds with a long stroke that has your knees buckling. “So fuckin’ good,” he groans, his nose buried between your two holes while he lazily laps at your juices. “That sweet cunt is the reason why I married ya.”

You keen to his touch, hips bucking into his mouth, and walls clenching for more. “Only reason?”

“Nah. Consider that tight little ass as the second.”

His fingers burrow into the supple skin to squeeze at it, only lifting to deliver playful smacks that cause your ass to jiggle against his face. He growls into your pussy, mouthing all sorts of filth that gets drowned by your moans. It feels so good when he eats you out—it always does—but the probability of being caught in such a compromising position adds to the excitement.

The hand that’s trapped with you inside your pet’s house scratches at the wood, while the other rakes at the soil for grounding. Your orgasm creeps up on you, turning your vision blurry and tinting the darkness of space with colored specks. You are so close; all he needs to do is keep swirling at your clit, swallowing the entire bundle of nerves in his mouth, and sucking hard until—

“Ah, right.” He stops, words slurring from the threads of saliva that link his mouth with your cunt. “You said ya wanted time with yourself.”

Anger washes over you in place of the orgasm you were robbed of, the pleasurable fireworks traded for the obnoxious red alarm that goes off in your brain. “Toji, I swear to God, if you don’t fuck me right fucking now, the only lunch you’ll be seeing is KFC buckets for the rest of your life!”

A low chuckle falls flat from his lips. “Three. I love that snappy mouth ‘f yours.”

In an attempt to meet his eyes, you duck between your legs. Your hair mops the floor as you watch him pull down his pants and boxers, the last thing you see before blood shoots up in your head being the hard cock that dangles out of reach. The heat in your stomach stirs at the sight, anticipation building rapidly when you feel him run the reddened tip between your puffy folds.

“Sure you don’t want it here?” Toji taps his cock against your ass hole and your entire body jolts in response, a loud Toji amusing rather than deterring him. “A’right, a’right! Gotcha the first time.”

His profound dream of burying himself nine inches deep into your ass crumbles as he aligns his cock with the entrance of your pussy. You brace yourself, patiently awaiting that initial sting that never goes away; no matter how many times he fucks you or how diligently he preps you, the thickness of his girth always threatens to split you in half.

But now he’s stalling, a complacent smile sitting on his lips while he contemplates your silence. “Bet you’re red as a beet in there, aren’t ya?”

He plunges himself inside before you are given the chance to either prove or disprove him, a silent scream punched from your throat as his cock rams straight into your g-spot. He huffs a deep breath, barely keeping a groan bottled, when he feels your walls tighten around him. It’s suffocating. Wet, and tight—a little similar to what being stuck in that small space feels like for you, but infinitely more pleasurable for him.

"Mm, such a sloppy little cunt. Got yourself stuck in there for this, didn't ya?"

His fingers latch onto your hips, bruising you as his nails dig meanly into your skin. He drags his cock halfway out of your cunt only to snap his hips back in, picking up a pace that ramps up over time. His quick thrusts fuck you further into that hole, your tits bouncing and slapping against the hard wooden planks while your dress rides higher to expose your back.

Toji bends your body into an arch, a heavy palm situated on your stomach until you’re able to hold the position on your own.

“Like it when your husband fucks ya like a bitch?” He grunts, catching the hand that’s squirming on the grass beside him and twisting it behind your back. “Pounded in broad daylight f'everyone to see how dumb you get over my dick, huh?"

Your whimpers don’t go unnoticed by him. He laughs at the high pitch your voice has assumed, babbling his name an incomprehensible amount of times that exceeds the frequency with which his swollen cock head kisses your pulsing core. You can't think enough to reply, and you can't bring yourself to ask him to stop.

He smacks your ass loud enough for you to whine, alerting every last neighbor in the block to what is happening in their quaint suburban neighborhood. “Answer me.”

“Yes, Toji—fuck, love how big it feels.” Your thoughts stem from your pussy without being filtered by your brain. All your body knows is how badly it needs to be pushed over the edge, disregarding the scornful looks you’ll definitely be receiving at the next neighborhood watch assembly.

“That’s not what I asked.” Toji smacks your ass again, softer this time—or so it feels because of your numbing skin. “I asked, Who owns this pussy, mm?”

“That’s not what you asked at all!” Your talking back earns you a third spank. You realize you’ve got no agency of your own.

“Won’t ask again. Who. Owns. This. Pussy?” He punctuates each word with a thrust sharper than the one before, his cock twitching when he hears you screaming your answer at the top of your lungs.

“You do, T-Toji. My pussy is yours—ngh!”

“And who’s bitch are you, baby?”

“Your bitch!” You answer willingly, your mind clouded, and your logic dulled. “Fuck, Toji, you know I’m all yours.”

“Damn right, y’are.” He hums in response, hunching over your body to rub tight circles around your clit, jerking the nub up and down, round and round.

You’re almost there, and when he asks you whether you wanna be bred like one, the tension in your gut finally snaps, eyes involuntary crossing as white waves of pleasure overtake you.

He fucks you through your high at an animalistic pace, the thought of filling your belly with a baby that’s half his and half yours flooding his brain before your answer registers, his cum spilling deep within your pussy with a few sloppy pumps that squelch to the sound of your mixed fluids.

His moans mingle with yours, the rough sound of his voice raising goosebumps from where he kisses your back to the resounding ringing in your ears. He wraps his arms around you almost tenderly, peppering your back with kisses that almost convince you he’ll finally pull you out of that miserable hell hole but that’s not his intention. It never was.

A final smack meets with your ass right before he rolls his pants back up and walks toward the house, undisturbed by the screams that follow close on his trail.

“You said you’d get me out of here!” Your fist hits the ground, finges clenching around a tuft of grass blades that you violently root out.

“And you said you can get out whenever ya want. That you needed time for yourself, ‘member?”

“I didn’t mean that!” You object, your tone too squeaky to be taken seriously. “Toji, you’d better help me or else—”

“Or else what? KFC until I die?” He snorts. “Relax, I’ll come back before Megumi gets ‘ere.” You hear his phone buzzing as he—presumably—punches something in his search bar. Hot wings don’t sound too bad; he whispers for himself to hear, speaking up only when he asks you if you want him to order you a twister wrap or something before he closes his order.

a/n: the episode excited me too much, apologies. i was gonna post this later asdfghjkl but toji is back and we cum.

[thewritetofreespeech]

Could I request Astarion and his s/o getting into a sass competition where Astarion ends up confessing to her by accident and now he's all flustered?

Astarion x Reader

“Can’t you go any faster?”

“I’m not exactly as well versed into taking these off as I am in putting them on, darling.” Astarion quipped at you as he fiddled with the lock on your cuffs.

Being somewhat of an anti-hero liaisons these days, the group had been pinched on some trumped up but completely true & legal charges of petty theft and larceny. Your options were fight, flight, or get arrested when confronted by the guards and charges. And since you couldn’t fight a whole city’s worth of Iron Fists, and running also seemed unplausible as you’d have to come back to the city sometime, you decided to take you lumps and went to jail. Luckily, where there’s a will there’s a way. Or in this case: a vampire with a lockpick up his sleeve.

“Why did you wait to do me last anyway? Just to see me suffer?”

“Well,” Astarion cooed, “it does have a certain visual appeal.”

You clicked your teeth and rolled your eyes. “Could you just hurry up? I’m starting to lose the feeling in my hands. All the blood is rushing out of them.”

“Oh, well, we wouldn’t want that.”

“Well, if you want my blood again, you should be more sympathetic to my pain.” You told him. Sighing heavily as one arm was free and Astarion moved on to the other one.

“Don’t you threaten me. Besides, if you won’t give me what I want, I’ll just move on to some other lucky companion in our camp.”

“Ha! Like anyone else would have you.”

Astarion frowned. “I’ll have you know that there are plenty of people who would welcome my teeth at their necks. Hundreds. Thousands!”

“Yeah. One blood obsessed drow and…who was the other one you tricked again?” You pulled at the shackles, which jiggled the irons and knocked the lockpick free, but unbroken. The vampire growled at you.

“I tricked you easy enough, didn’t I?”

“Only because I took pity on you.”

“Pity?!”

“Yeah.” You told him. “That poor, sad, puppy dog ‘please feed me’ look was just something I couldn’t say no to.”

Astarion growled again. “That is not how it happened. Besides, if you didn’t like it you wouldn’t keep asking for more.”

“Oh sure. Blame the victim.”

“You are not a victim!” He snapped at you. He seemed a little wounded by that one. Maybe you went a little too far. “Gods.” He cursed under his breath with a frown. “You are lucky I love you so much, otherwise I would just leave you here, chained up, and never bite you again. No matter how much you begged me.”

The lock finally snapped open and your arm fell to the side. You lifted it to rub your wrist but were uncharacteristically silent.

“Would it have been too much to expect a thank you??”

“Did you just say you love me?”

Astarion froze for a moment. A little wide eyed at your question. He seemed to be racking his brain for a moment. Trying to remember the conversation before an ‘Oh. Shit.’ expression came over his face. “What? Oh, that. Figure of speech darling, of course.” He let out a single nervous cough after that and a rushed, “let’s go meet up with the other.” Before he turned on his heels and made a speedy exit.

You rub your wrist one more time as a soft, shy smile came to your lips behind his back. You follow after him and meet up with the others. Waiting just outside the prison for the two of you, as apparently just around the corner was enough of an escape from the mighty Iron Fist.

“Ah! I just love this fresh air.” You exclaim, followed by more comments on how dusty & dank your cell had been, but really just watching Astarion’s shoulders tense.

You spent the rest of the day subversively tormenting Astarion. Making comments on how much you loved the weather, or loved a dress in a window. How much you loved dinner that night. How much you loved getting a good night’s rest that night.

By the time everyone had gone off to their respective tents for the evening, Astarion had apparently had enough and slunk up to yours. “I know what you’re doing. Now stop it!” He hissed.

“But I thought you’d love it.”

“Stop it!” He hissed again. If he could right now, he would blush. You were tempted to let him feed on you for a moment to get the full effect. “I mean it! How would you like it if I threw every verbal misstep in your face? I don’t keep bringing up the time you said Ibis instead of Ignis, now do I??”

It was pretty funny when that bird showed up.

“So, are you upset that you said it and I’m teasing of you, or are you upset that you didn’t mean it and I keep bringing it up?” You honestly didn’t know which answer would be worse at this point. You felt bad you had wounded his pride to the point that he came to talk to you. But you also don’t think you could take it if he told you that he didn’t love you.

Astarion just stood there for a moment, thinking, before he sighed and waved you off. “Just…knock it off ok. I’ve had quite enough today. I’m going to get some sleep and I’ll see you in the morning.”

He turned to walk away and just before he fell out of ear shot you called to him. “Hey Astarion,” he looked back over his shoulder at you, “I love that you could come and talk to me about this.”

He huffed, but you could see the corners of his mouth struggling to keep down. “Oh shut up.”

[moonlightisdancing]

Like A Virgin/ j.t.k

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: NSFW 18+ MINORS DNI practically smut w no plot, mentions arguing/drinking/parental issues, sneaking out, consumption of weed, pure awkwardness, some fluff, oral sex (m+f receiving), loss of virginity (m+f), penetrative unprotected sex

as always please lmk if anything’s missed

inspired by my dear nick & this song

a/n: sorry if this is kinda cheesy/short/whatever… just needed to write a virgin jake fic

——————🌸——————

“Yeah, maybe we can hang out this summer!”

Those were the last words you’d hear from Jake Kiszka after graduation as he scribbled his phone number and a smiley face next to his picture in your yearbook. He must have known you had a small crush on him that may or may not have developed during senior year calculus after some group work.

His number was saved to your contacts that day but it wasn’t until August came around before you ever texted him, but he wasn’t your first thought. You knew he lived relatively close to you, one block to the left and over the train tracks, all the way at the end of the street. Meanwhile, you only lived a block away from your best and really only friend, Kiera, so she’s who you’d spend most your time with.

Today has been the longest day of your life. A screaming match with your mom over the gap year you decided on last minute, your dad drinking again, an entire summer of pent up anger bouncing around the walls of your home had finally bursted at the seams. You spent all night crying, your mind traveling to the darkest of places. It just felt like you needed a hug, for someone to hold you and tell you it would all be okay.

“Hello?”

It took five rings before Kiera answered her phone. In her defense it was roughly two in the morning and you should have been asleep, too.

“Kiera? I-I could really use your company if you can.” The sobbing hadn’t stopped, the words barely coming out.

“Y/n… My parents won’t let me out this late, you know that.”

“Even if I walk there? I-Kiera, I just need a hug or a blunt, something. And I don’t know anyone else.”

“Well, you know Jake, and his mom’s much nicer than mine.” She sounded irritated but you knew she was trying her best to be patient.

“I haven't talked to him since grad, I can’t just hit him up.”

“Just text him? He posted on Snapchat like fifteen minutes ago and he lives right there.”

“Okay, okay, fine. But what if he thinks-”

“Just do it and let me know, okay? I love you, good night.” She hung up before you could even respond.

Breathe, Y/n, it’s fine, everything is fine.

You: Heyyy Jake it’s Y/n

Jake K: Hey stranger, what’s up?

You: So super awkward, but I’m in desperate need of a blunt and a hug

Jake K: Done and done. Remember where I live?

You: Yeah

Jake K: Come on by, porch lights on

How could you forget where he lived? Sure, you went once for Jake and Josh’s graduation party, but after learning how close your highschool crush lived to you, you’d never forget. You fixed your hair in the bathroom and splashed your face with cool water in attempts to bring down your swollen red eyes. A little bit of deodorant and some perfume would be the finishing touches before returning to your room. You couldn’t leave through the front door, the dogs would bark and it would add one more thing to the list of arguments yet to be had. It doesn’t matter you’re eighteen, as long as you lived under your parent’s roof, it was their rules. You opened your window and climbed out, using the junction box outside your window for leverage.

It takes eleven minutes to walk from your house to Jake’s, where he’s already standing on his front porch waiting for you. He’s in basketball shorts, slip on Vans and a pullover hoodie, and somehow he still looks good as ever. You weren’t half way up his driveway before he began walking towards you with his arms wide open. At graduation he only offered an awkward side hug, so this sure was new to say the least. Jake wraps both his arms around your shoulders, pulling you into his chest. You inhale his scent, he just smells like home. Not yours, most likely his, but home with a hint of worn off cologne. Your heart begins racing a lot faster than you want to admit as he holds you until you let go.

“Shall we?” He asks in a deep silly voice as he leads you through the gate to his backyard. There was a firepit in the middle of some chairs and a cute little picnic table off to the side. You follow him towards the mahogany stained wood and sit across from him. The only light was that of the full moon washing over everything in a blue tint.

“Do you know how to roll?” Jake asks as he empties the contents of his pockets on the table.

“Uh-uh.” You shook your head.

“S’okay, I can show you.” Jake turns the flashlight from his phone on, handing it to you to hold. He walks you through the process, admittedly you paid more attention to the way his fingers moved than the actual task itself.

You watch as his tongue parts his lips and licks across the blunt, sealing the weed inside. Jake reaches for his phone, his fingers brushing gently against your knuckles. The two of you stand awkwardly from the table, the moonlight illuminating Jake’s soft features.

“C’mere, I know a spot.” He holds his empty hand out towards you and waits until you place your palm in his. Jake guides you to the side of his house and down a tiny path that leads to a creek. There resides an old metal bench that Jake directs you towards. He places the blunt between his plush pink lips and brings the lighter to the end, the red hot cherry casting a golden hue against his cheek bones. A couple silent puff, puff, passes happen before you speak.

“I’m sorry I didn’t text you sooner. Life’s just been kinda…” You trailed off.

“Hey, don’t apologize,” He shifts to face you, bringing his one leg up. “We’re here now, that’s what matters.”

More silence occured as the blunt was worked down to nothing, but the silence was comfortable. You didn’t want to talk about your problems and ruin the safe bubble that naturally surrounded Jake’s existence, opting to ask him about his plans instead.

“So, is the band doing good or are you gonna go to college?” You ask, matching his stance by turning to face him.

“Band’s going places, I think. I dunno, gotta wait for Sammy and Danny to finish school, then we’ll really know. You?”

“Taking a gap year, but who knows? Maybe I could be some rockstar’s girlfriend.” Sheesh, the weed had you feeling ballsy.

“Yeah, maybe.”

The comfortable silence had now grown awkward as you struggled to even look in Jake’s direction.

“You should hear me play some time. I-I mean if you wanted to I can right now.” Jake stumbles over his words, presumably a mix of anxiousness and marijuana.

“Sure, yeah, that sounds good.” You nod and stand at the same time Jake does, taking his hand once again as he held it out for you. His palms feel warm and clammy, usually you’d be off put but his nervousness is endearing.

He opens the little side door to the garage and flicks on the light. It smells very garage-y, the whirring of the fluorescent lights really tying it together. He walks to the opposite side and grabs his acoustic guitar before suggesting you sit on the couch next to him.

“We’ve been working on this one for a little bit, it’s called Flower Power.”

He plays chords to a song you hadn’t heard, singing chunks of lyrics alike. It was a beautiful song nonetheless, maybe even one you’d listen to on your own accord.

“Wow, she must be a lucky girl.”

“Think so? Why’s that?” Jake giggled as he discarded his guitar. He flicked on a lava lamp before shutting the flourecent light off and returning awfully close beside you.

“Are you kidding me? If someone wrote that about me, said that to me?! I think every girl wants to be loved that way.”

“Yeah?” He laughed again, shaking his head.

“Yes!”

“And what if I told you someone did?”

“What?” Your cheeks flamed red, matching the color of the lamp beside you.

“That’s your song, Y/n.” Jake reaches his hand out to yours again for the third time tonight, this time interlocking his fingers with yours.

“Mine?”

Jake nodded before some force pulled the two of you together, your lips crashing into his. After months of wondering what he tasted like, the flavor of weed and spearmint on his lips was one you’d never forget. The kissing grew quickly heated as Jake’s hands found purchase on your hips, his knee planted between yours as he hovered over you. You found yourself rutting your hips up against his as he did the same, the feeling of his hardening length against your clothed center driving you places you’d never been. The kissing led to shirts being removed, ultimately leaving you in your bra and underwear, Jake in his shorts.

“What d’ya wanna do?” He whispered between kisses, his hands migrating to your breasts.

“Um, not sure… I’ve never-”

“No, me either, it’s okay.”

“I can- do you want head?”

“You okay with that?”

“Yeah,”

Jake sat beside you again as you stood between his legs, lowering yourself to your knees. You’d never given head before, or done anything along these lines. Your body filled with an unfamiliar sensation as you progressed, dipping your fingers past the waistband of his shorts and boxers. His length sprung straight up and your eyes widened at the sheer size of him. Never would you have thought he’d pack so much heat. You gently wrap one hand around the base of his cock, slowly stroking his length as you work your lips over his blushed tip. You watched a few videos here and there to sort of have a general idea, trying to remember anything from those as you bobbed your head up and down. Jake’s hands cupped either side of your face as he moaned and whined before grabbing your hair into a makeshift ponytail.

“Is this okay?”

“Mhm.” You hummed with him in your mouth, his dick twitching in response.

“Can I give you head?” He asks, lifting you from his length. You nod eagerly as Jake laid you down on the sofa, kicking off his shorts and boxers. He kisses up the inside of your thighs before hovering over your center. You’re embarrassed by the polka dot cotton panties you wore, but he doesn’t seem to care as he tucks his fingers into the elastic waist. He looks up at you and waits for approval before pulling them down your thighs, tossing them amongst his.

It’s a matter of seconds before his tongue begins exploring you alongside his fingers. Jake’s mouth marries perfectly against your aching bud as he switches between flicking his tongue and sucking. His fingers tease your entrance as he finally pushes a finger in, his mouth continuing its task. You watch him grind his hips against the cushions, his groans growing louder the faster his mouth and fingers move.

“Jake?” You whine, writhing under his touch.

“Hm?” He pulls away, staring at you with his soaked chin and lips.

“Do you wanna have sex?” Bold. The weed was giving you all the courage you could ask for.

“I don’t know where there’s a condom.” He kneels on the cushions in front of you, stroking his length.

“You don’t have one like in your wallet?”

“Why would- I’m a virgin.”

“Right, sorry.” It was kind of implied earlier, but hearing the words leave his mouth felt foreign. It truly astounded you that he was a virgin. People said he got around a lot, it was one of the reasons you felt you had no chance.

“Maybe just the tip? Just to feel?” He shrugged, placing his hands on your knees.

“Yeah… But what if it feels too good? And we wanna keep going?”

“Pull out?”

You knew that was almost always a bad idea, but you let yourself think with the wrong head as you agreed to the idea. Jake pushes your knees apart and slowly brings his hips forward, the pillowy head of his cock rubbing against you. You reach a hand down and situate him at your entrance, bringing your legs up to ease him in. Jake places his hands against the armrest of the couch above your head, his chest hovering over your face as he slowly introduces his length.

“More.” You begged through a breathy moan, wincing as he did exactly as you asked. Jake feeds his entire length inside, his thighs flush against yours as you both revel in the feeling.

“Fuck, this is so… You feel so good.” Jake places a kiss on the top of your head before trailing his mouth down to yours.

The pain of his thick cock stretching your tight pussy quickly subsides as he begins slowly moving his hips back and forth, his lacking rhythm quickly being found. His lips remain on yours, only pulling away from time to time to check if you were okay. Your nails find a home digging into his back each time his hips crashes into yours. With each thrust came the familiar warmth washing over your body causing you to tighten around Jake.

“Are you close?”

“Yeah,” You respond, hardly able to breathe.

“Suck for me, baby.” Jake brings his middle and index finger to your lips, pushing them into your mouth. After you coat his digits with your saliva, Jake brings them to your clit, rubbing circles over your bud. That only brings you closer to your orgasm, one that feels more powerful than any other. The pleasure that rips through you simply could never be replicated by your own fingers again.

“Jake, fuck, mm,” Your moans begin to sound like cries as your body shakes beneath his.

“S’okay, I got you, pretty girl.” He brings his hand back up, wrapping his arms behind your back as he hugs you to his chest. “I’m gonna cum, too.” Jake removes himself from your aching pussy, resting his cock on your belly as he lowers himself and begins thrusting again. It takes seconds for his hot release to paint your skin, being spread by his weight against yours.

“So do you wanna be a rockstar’s girlfriend?” He asks kissing up and down your neck, occasionally sucking on your sensitive skin.

“I would love to.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Animal Instinct

Warnings: noncon/dubcon, violence, and dark elements

My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Summary: Your love of animal attracts a new type of beast. 

Character: Kraven the Hunter

Dedicated to my dear @honeybee-reads

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Barley is at your heels as you throw out a handful of peanuts into the grass. The squirrels scale down the trees and the crows plunge down to steal a few for themselves. Chipmunks pop up from their burrows and cluster around the next scatter you toss. There are a few brave enough to come up and claim a shell directly from your hand. 

You watch the critters for a while then grab the bag of seed to fill the feeder. You pour into the opening in the top of the house-shaped trough. A rush of feathers and tweets comes in response and you back up to watch the birds eat. 

Your life is simple. Quiet. And small. It’s just you, your dog, Barley, and whatever other creatures wander this far out. 

You sit on the steps and scratch Barley’s head. You’re startled as he pops up onto all fours and bounds across the yard. You call after him but he doesn’t respond. 

He stops, fixated on the brush. Even in the morning light, there are pockets of shadow nestled between the leaves and branches. You call him again, even whistle, but he just stands and stares. His ears are back, his tail low. There’s hardly a moment when he isn’t wagging incessantly. 

The hair on the back of your neck stands up. He’s never done that. Not even when that coyote showed up by the fire one night. He usually tries to play with anything he finds. 

You get up and look around. You grab the garden shove and slowly approach the brown labrador. His nose is sniffing, his head moving subtly, as he stares into the bushes. 

You peer out but don’t see much. There’s a waft of pine and dirt but nothing else. Your nose isn’t as strong as his. 

“Bar,” you touch his head and he flinches, stamping his feet, then spins and wiggles his butt happily as if he hadn’t noticed you. 

You scratch behind his ear and turn back, commanding him back to the house. He looks off again into the woods before he obeys. You walk together to the back porch. You notice then how the birds and squirrels and all have disappeared; the feeder is still full and some peanuts still litter the grass. 

As you go inside, you realize you still have the shovel in hand. You don’t know what you expected to ward off with it. You put it on the ledge of the kitchen window. You try to shake off the strange feeling gnawing at you. 

When you looked into the trees, you saw nothing, but you felt something. Like you were seen by whatever you could not spot. Barley pushes his cold nose into your palm. You stroke his nose as much to comfort yourself as him. 

You distract yourself with your usual chores. You feed Barley and yourself. You sit and eat at the table. Then you wash the dishes and put them away. You sweep up the dirt you tracked in then hunker down to read. 

You get through half a chapter before you grow restless. Barley’s tapping around the kitchen, no doubt looking for stray morsels. You go out to put the kettle on and let him into the back. You can see him through the back window. Besides he doesn’t go very far. 

You watch him pee and circle around the grass. You set the kettle on the burner but keep from turning it on. You look back to the window as Barley hurdles towards the trees barking. 

“Woah!” You race to the back door. 

You stagger out to catch him but he’s gone before you’re halfway to the trees. You stop before them, breathless. You shout for him, whistle for him. You plunge through the bushes only to be flung back. The hand on your throat sends you sprawling across the grass. 

You hit your ass and whimper as the pang in your tailbone tingles to your toes. You prop yourself up on your elbows and gape at the man standing before you. His dark hair is filthy, his beard and face too. He looks feral as his blue eyes glimmer at you and his fists ball tightly as he growls. 

He steps closer and you push yourself back with your heels and hands. You have no chance to wonder how he got there or why he’s there. He lunges on you and you cry out. 

“Ah, please,” you whine. 

His hand covers your mouth and he snarls again. You stare up at him, horrified as he straddles you between his knees. He tilts his head, his lip curling like predator before a feast. Shanks of his dusty brown hair fall forward and shadow his features. 

He reaches back and dislodges something from the back of his belt. He raises the knife with the hooked tip and you writhe as you clasp onto his wrist. He aims it at you and swings it down. He stops it just above your cheek and hushes you. 

You quiet and blink as your eyes gloss with terror. He pokes you lightly with the blade and peels his hand from your mouth. You lay paralysed on the grass, your body locked up with fear. He drags the blade along your jaw and throat. 

He bears his teeth as he trails down your chest and snags the top of your shirt. He cuts through the fabric, backing up as he rents it open to the hem. He comes to rest above your pelvis as your breaths turn shallow and rampant. 

He uses the knife to push aside the shorn fabric and his eyes drink in the sight of your torso. He slips the blade beneath the front of your bra and snaps it easily. You curl your fingers into the dirt, crushing strands of grass, as he bends over you. 

His nose touches yours and he growls again. He nuzzles you roughly then pinches your lower lip between his teeth. You quiver as he nipples on it then proceeds to drag his nose down your chin. He retraces the path along your throat and curls his shoulders as he gropes one side of your chest and wraps his lips around your nipple. 

Your cheeks wet as your fear spills over. He kneads your flesh, suckling and teething, snarling as the pressure plucks inside of you. He inhales, as if smelling you as much as tasting you. 

His hand crawls down your stomach as his other comes up to press the knife against your neck. You flatten yourself as much as you can. He picks at the laces of your drawstring pants. He tugs and rolls them down as he lifts himself on his knees. 

He shoves his hand between your thighs. You whimper but don’t resist. You’re too confused to do anything but let him. He swipes two fingers along the crease of your lips then delves between them. You squeak in surprise as he flicks over your clit. He swirls around it until you quake even harder. 

He sits back on his heels and watches himself place with you. He drags the knife down to trace lazily around your tits as he rubs between your folds. You slicken at his unwelcome touch. Shame speckles across your flesh. 

He pushes his hand further back and bends his fingers. He dips inside of you and you croak. You seal your lips and turn your face away. He slips in and out, as if exploring you, seeing how much he can do. 

He turns the knife in his hand and holds it flat over your stomach. He slowly pulls his fingers free and wipes your juices along your thigh. He bunches your pants at your knees and hooks his arm around your legs. He bends them as high as he can and lets them rest against his shoulder as he repositions himself. 

He leans on you as he unloops his arm from your legs. He reaches behind them and shifts on his knees. You close your eyes and dig your fingertips into the dirt. 

He growls again and he brings the swollen head of his dick along the back of your thigh. He brushes it up and down, smearing precum along your skin. He teases you with it until you’re whining and wriggling. 

He angles down and puts his tip against your thighs. Your legs part just enough for him to dip between. He uses his thump to push himself against your cunt. He stretches you around him, just an inch inside, and he takes a breath. He groans and brings his hand around to splay across your soft stomach. 

Your legs bend slightly, your feet just above his shoulder. You brace yourself and heave. You choke on your sobs as he forces your legs up even further. He snaps his hips and impales you in a single thrust. You shriek and arch your back, reaching to touch his hip. Ow. 

He snarls and does it again, lingering deep in you as he wiggles, testing your limit. You weep and latch onto the top of his slack pants. You shudder and dare to look at him, your lashes webbed with teardrops. 

“Please,” you beg. 

He ruts again and your voice evaporates. His eyes dilate, black almost to the rims, and he pounds into you with his long, punctuated strokes. Snap, snap, snap. Each thrust crushes you further into the dirt as he folds your legs higher and higher. 

You dig your nails into his forearm and bite your tongue. The pain is excruciating, but what’s worse, is that it doesn’t all hurt. As your body slowly awakens, responding to the rare touch, to his proximity, there’s worse than the physical invasion.  

There’s shame. There’s the awareness of everything single detail of your body and his. There’s the battle of pain and pleasure. Of you and him. And as you long for him to stop, you want just as badly for him to keep going. 

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

Excitement [Joel x f!reader]

Read on Ao3

Ship: Joel Miller x you/f!reader (reader has tits and pussy, weight undisclosed, same age as Joel)

Tags/warnings: Exhibitionism, fingering, P in V sex, creampie.

Summary: Jackson is safe and quiet. Too quiet. You don't know what to do with yourself on a snowy night when you're cooped up inside. Luckily, Joel knows exactly what to do.

Words: 2,319

A/N: @pazizz and I were talking about Mads Mikkelsen, I think? There is a very explicit sex sequence with him in the film Polar that I had to check out, and that got my mind working... So this is super inspired by Mads Mikkelsen's snowy night sex in Polar.

It's too quiet. It makes you jittery, restless. There's a tightness in the pit of your stomach, an anticipation of dreads to come.

No place is completely safe, but Jackson is as safe as it gets. And it throws you. You haven't been relaxed for so long you don't know how to do it anymore.

Especially on a night like this, when it's snowing thickly, and everyone is Jackson is cooped up inside, except for those poor souls on guard duty. You're pacing the house, going from one room to another in search of something to do. But there are no chores because there is barely any laundry to do, dishes to wash, furniture to dust. You have everything you need in Jackson, but nothing extra.

You walk back to the living-room and look out through the gridded window at the empty street outside. The light strings are dancing in the wind, their light barely visible through the thick snow. Not a soul out there, which makes you even more fidgety. Surely life can’t be cuddling in front of the fireplace on a stormy night?

You make the decision in a split second, go to the entry, and start to put on your boots and jacket. It’s crazy to go out in this weather, but you’re going just as crazy indoors. As you pull your hat down over your eyes, the door opens, and Joel enters, bringing with him a gush of chilly wind and snow.

He shakes the snow off himself like a dog, then sees you, the line between his brows deepening.

“You startin’ a search party?”

“Almost. Glad you’re home,” you tell him, sincerely relieved that he’s back from guard duty. You accept a kiss from cold lips, but don’t stop dressing.

“Where are you goin’?” Joel wants to know.

“Out.”

“Out?” he echoes incredulously. “What for?”

“Just need some fresh air.”

He stares at you in disbelief as he hangs up his coat. You shrug.

“I just need to go out.”

“I’m not letting you.”

“You can’t very well stop me, Joel.”

“Can’t I?”

He stands in front of the door, arms crossed over his chest, and you know he’s right: you can’t move him, he’s a goddamn brick wall. You purse your lips, stare him down, but he doesn’t budge.

“Fine.” You take your outerwear off, leaving them in angry heaps on the floor, before stomping back to the window to look out at the whirling snow. Joel joins you, arms slowly winding around you from behind. His bristles tangle in your hair when he kisses your temple.

“What’s up?”

“Just keep waiting for some shit to go down,” you mutter. “It’s too quiet here.”

“I know. I feel it too.”

You relax when you hear Joel’s confession. It makes you feel less crazy.

“But the right way to handle that isn’t to go out looking for trouble, or winding up frozen to death in the snow,” he adds, a little bit of teasing in his voice. You turn your head to glare at him.

“It’s not like there’s anything to do in here.”

“Isn’t there?”

Your lips are pursed when he kisses you, but you quickly yield, parting your lips for his tongue, your hand coming up to his cheek, still wet from melted snow.

“Think you can deflect with promises of sex…?” you murmur, trying bravely to sound disapproving. Joel holds your hips and turns you to face him.

“I know I can, sweetheart.” His quiet confidence is equal parts annoying and sexy. You scoff, but gasp immediately after when he pushes you up against the window. Even with your wool sweater, you can feel the cold coming in through the glass.

“Joel!”

“Trust me.”

He crowds you against the glass, lips seeking out yours anew, hands already unbuttoning your jeans to reach inside your panties. You wrap your arms around his neck, greedily taking his kisses and humming when he presses his fingertips against your clit. A shiver runs through you, and Joel hums in approval. He fingers you lightly, teasing you wet and needy until you're pulling at the buttons on his plaid.

"Careful," he grunts, finally tearing his mouth from yours. You're pleased to note that he's out of breath. "Don't lose any buttons."

"I'm gonna lose it if you don't fuck me soon," you whine, but you slow down with the buttons, knowing full well that there rarely are replacements for lost ones. Joel's fingers dip into your wet warmth before escaping the confinement of your panties. You glare at him as best as you can with the feeling of bereavement thudding in your clit, but Joel only smiles at you, deceptively gently, as he licks his fingers.

"So sweet," he murmurs, and you finally get the plaid off of him. He, in turn, pulls the sweater over your head, and you're so heated up from an internal fire that you don't even notice at first how much colder it is without the garment.

"Turn around," Joel asks you, and when you're too slow for his liking, he puts his hands on your hips, and directs you to face the window.

"What are you doing?" you ask breathlessly as he kisses your neck, hands moving down to squeeze your ass.

"Creating excitement for you."

He caresses the jeans down your hips and pulls you into him so that your entire length is connected to him. He exudes warmth and safety, and you become aware of the draft from the window. Your nipples pebble underneath the t-shirt, and you rub your ass against the stiff bulge pressing against it.

"Oh, baby..." Joel's voice is tight, his fingers dig into your hips for just a second before relaxing into a new caress. "Sweetheart... fuckin' love your ass."

"I know," you purr, pushing back even more. Joel's hand comes sliding up your waist, under your t-shirt, tickling your ribs as it curves to your front, fingers finding your nipple to tweak and pinch. You exhale in a small moan, eyes falling shut at his slow ministrations. Your panties are wet in the crotch, and you reach behind you to pop open Joel's belt buckle.

"Already?" he chuckles in your ear before nibbling at the lobe.

"Tell me you don't want to," you quip, and Joel's hand draws back from under your t-shirt. You turn around to meet his velvety gaze as he unzips his jeans.

"Couch?" you want to know, already moving towards it, but he grabs your arm and pulls you back.

"Here."

You gaze flickers towards the window. "By... the window?"

"That's right." He cups your cheek and brushes his lips over yours. "Tell me you don't want it. Tell me you don't want anyone who's foolish enough to go out tonight to see me fuck you."

You only need a split second to make up your mind.

"Anyone who goes out tonight deserves a treat," you whisper, and you see a flash of bared teeth before Joel turns you around again. You bend over slightly, hands landing on the sill, leaning your weight forward. You hear the rustle of Joel's jeans, then feel his big, warm hand on your ass cheek, thick fingers seeking between your legs and pulling the crotch of your panties to the side.

"Spread 'em a little more for me, darlin'."

You obey, gasping when he reaches your yearning lips, and then his fingers are replaced by the fat head of his cock. He hisses when he slides it in, all in one slow go, sheathing himself in your welcoming pussy, his upper body draped over yours as he kisses your neck and breathes his praise onto your burning skin. You bask in his words, in the thickness of his cock lodged deep inside you, in the chill outside licking your face and seeping into your fingers. His hips move, pulling out halfway before he slides in once again, slowly but with a quick snap when he's balls deep. It's not forceful but still knocks the breath out of you with a low moan. Joel grunts, scatters kisses over your neck, bites your shoulders through the thin fabric of your shirt, all the while repeating the slow but devastating roll of his hips. You grip the windowsill so hard your fingers turn white, before releasing one hand to rub your clit. Your pussy immediately clenches at the new pleasure, and Joel groans as he slips out.

"Fuck, you're so fucking tight when you do that," he puffs, lining himself up again. You rest your fingers to give him a chance to enter you again, which he does with a harder thrust than before. He settles into a rhythm, hands on your hips to keep you from escaping.

"Fuck, Joel," you whimper, straightening your back so that you can turn your head and kiss him. Your lower back protests at the uncomfortable arch you're forcing it into, but Joel lets go of your hips and wraps one arm around your upper body, helping you to twist. His other hand sneaks around your waist and disappears inside your panties to tease your clit as he pumps into you. His breathless kisses miss your mouth, but it doesn't matter, you lick his lips, his cheek, his scruff tears at your tongue, his breath is hot on your skin, his body is hot, your body is hot, together you're fire. You scramble to pull off your t-shirt, Joel helps you impatiently, you hear a seam rip but don't care. The shirt is barely on the floor before Joel grabs your tits in his hands, pushes you forward a couple of steps, and glues your tits to the ice-cold window. You shriek, the chill a small shock to your system, but Joel has already picked up the pace and is fucking you harder, faster, and the assault of his cock is more all-consuming than that of the cold. His hand is back between your legs, and you moan loudly when the pleasure soars higher and higher. Joel is babbling nonsense against your neck, Is anyone there, can anyone see us, is anybody looking at your gorgeous fucking tits, no?, their loss, oh God it's their fucking loss, you're so fucking pretty, baby, you feel so fucking good, you're so good to me, your pussy is so good, your tits are so fucking sexy, yournipples are so stiff it's nothing short of a miracle they're not cutting through the glass. You gaze out through the window but all you can see is whirling snow. The windows of the house across the street are lit but you can barely even see that in the blizzard. Your brain conjures up images of what this must look like from the outside, the flesh of your tits spread out over one pane each, your arms out to the sides, your face twisted from pleasure and excitement, Joel's broad frame behind you, fucking into you like a man much younger than his years. What a sight, what a shock if anybody saw it, what a shame nobody can see you getting fucked like this.

The mental image sends you over the edge. Your thighs clamp shut, and your legs shake as your pussy spasms, and you let out a wail that surely must have been heard outside, even in the storm. Joel grunts, withdraws his hand from between your legs, grabs your hips again, and slams into you, again and again, panting for air but still going strong. Your pussy is raw and jubilant, the seam of your panties pushed to the side is cutting into your groin, but you don’t care, your head is wired to feel nothing but bliss. The cold doesn't bother you anymore, you're even sweaty when Joel's grip turns tight and his hips stutter. With a choked snarl, he shoots you full of hot cum, moaning loud when you buck back against him. You clench, drawing forth a breathless gasp from him, then another when you clench again, bucking back to prolong his orgasm, harassing his sensitive cock for as long as he keeps it inside of you.

Joel groans your name into the nape of your neck but stays inside, pulling you upright and covering your ice-cold tits with his slightly sweaty hands. When he finally slips out, his softening cock is followed by sticky cum running down your inner thigh. With trembling fingers, you adjust your panties, the fabric catching the rest of his spend.

“Exciting enough for you?” he murmurs against your ear before kissing it. You place your hands on top of his to squeeze your tits.

“I think I’ll make it without having to go out now.”

He barks out an exhausted chuckle before releasing you and taking you by the hand, leading you to the couch. Plopping down on it, he brings you into his side, arm wrapped around you.

“You’ll be the death of me,” he sighs deeply, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand.

“I’ll be in the grave next to you,” you remind him of your age. “But that was maybe worth it, right?”

He blinks his eyes open and gazes at you. “Did anybody see us?”

“Not that I could see.”

“Hmm.” He pulls you in even closer. “Better luck next time.”

You smile through your yawn and cuddle up against him. Your tits are still cold, but Joel’s torso exudes heat, and the front of his t-shirt is damp from sweat. You’ll be warm all over in no time.

“Thanks,” you tell him quietly. His fingers play a loving tune on your arm.

“You’re welcome.” He knows what you mean, neither one of you need words beyond that. You place your hand over his heart and feel it slow down after the exertion, and by the time it’s beating at a normal pace, you’re both asleep.

[horrorchicxoxo]

The Perfect Morning

Jake Sully x Human!Fem!Reader

Summary: You are the adorably short wife of Jake Sully who receives mind-blowing morning sex.

Warnings: Smut

Notes: I had to make an adjustment to the height due to concerns that were expressed to me.

Requested by @jsuli

The sunlight streamed through the windows, painting the bed where you and your husband lay with a soft glow. The warmth that it emanated gradually pulled you out of your sleep. You were cuddled close, your legs wrapped around his midsection. You were very small compared to your 10-foot-tall man, but you made it work. He found your 5’2 1/2-inch height adorable, which only made him fall in love with you even more.

As you opened your eyes, you were met with the stare of your true love. His locs spread were spread wildly on the pillow, giving him an adorably silly look.

You smiled and moved closer to rest your forehead against his own.

"Good morning, handsome," you uttered, nuzzling your nose against his.

"Good morning, beautiful. How did you sleep?"

"I slept very well. You completely tired me out last night. Where did you learn some of that stuff?"

He smirked, recalling last night's activities.

"I didn't have to learn anything. I just know exactly how to please my woman."

As if on cue, he grabbed your ass and pushed you even closer against him, rubbing his bulge against your core.

You mewled quietly, trying in vain to pry his hands off you.

“Jake, we can’t do this right now. The kids could be up any minute.”

A hint of mischief crossed his eyes.

“Well, I guess you you’ll have to stay quiet then, huh?”

You moaned quietly as he turned he laid you on your back. His lips found yours, passionately sucking on your bottom lip. He then trailed kisses down the side of your jaw and down your neck.

You moaned and grabbed his huge head as he licked and sucked on your breasts. His fangs nipped at your nipples, causing to jump in surprise and lightly hit his shoulder.

“Watch yourself, big boy. I do not need you drawing blood,” you scolded seductively, biting your lip.

“Sorry, babygirl. It’s not my fault that you have such a hot ass body.”

Once he said that, he continued trailing sloppy wet kisses down your body.

It wasn’t long before he arrived between your legs. He looked in awe at your glistening pussy.

“Already so wet for me.”

He immediately began devouring you, wasting no time.

Your head fell back against the pillows, your eyes rolling into the back of your head. His tongue was huge, wet, and thick. It reached all best places deep inside you, leaving no spot on you neglected.

When he started sucking on your clit, your hands flew to grab his locs, giving them a tug. He groaned at this sensation, sending vibrations to your pussy.

You bit your lip, holding back your moans. Jake lifted his head from your core to look you in the eyes.

“Let me hear you, baby. Don’t hold back your little noises from me,” he said in a low voice, kissing the inside of your thigh.

You nodded, watching as he lowered his head back down.

He went back to work on your pussy, lapping at you like a thirsty dog.

Eventually, you legs started to shake and you came hard, squirting on his mouth and chin. He rode you through your orgasm, sucking up your juices.

When he was satisfied, he went back up to kiss you again, allowing you to taste yourself on his lips. You moaned against his mouth, enjoying the taste of you on his lips. He then pulled back, staring deep into your eyes.

“Get on your side now, baby.”

You obeyed him, rolling onto your side while he got comfortable behind you.

He lifted your leg and lined himself up with your entrance. Without missing a beat, he slipped inside you. You hissed from his size, but soon that feeling was replaced by pure pleasure.

“Are you ready, baby?,” he asked.

“ Yes, my love. Pound me til’ I can’t walk for a week.”

He growled deep within his chest at that remark, and began to thrust into you. Your breasts jiggled from how hard he was ramming into you, something he enjoyed immensely. He kissed your neck while taking his hand and rubbing your clit in circles. You mewled and you raised you arm to grip the back of your neck as he did.

“Oh— my—God, Jake! Right th—there!,” you whimpered.

At the sound of this, he went harder.

You started moaning uncontrollably, your head falling back against him. It wasn’t long before that fire deep inside your belly became white-hot.

“I—-I’m —- gonna — cum— Jake —“

“Let go, baby,” he breathed into your ear, licking the side of your neck as he did.

You came hard, moaning pathetically as you squirted for a second time onto his cock. He helped you ride your second orgasm of the morning, with him coming deep inside you not long after.

He let himself grow soft inside you, pulling out with a hiss from you both. You looked back at him over your shoulder, giving him a dazed smile.

“Wow. I already know if I try to stand up, I’m done for,” you giggled.

“Damn straight. Now let me clean you up.”

He got up from the bed, ducking through the doorway of the bathroom. He retrieved a warm rag and walked over to you. He cleaned you up and once he was done, he laid back down behind you.

He leaned over you to plant a kiss against your cheek, giving you a warm smile. “I love you, my precious wife.”

You smiled, leaned you and pecked his lips a couple of times.

“I love you, too, my darling husband.”

With that, you laid back down, his chest pressed against your small back. It wasn’t long before sleep took hold once again, his soft, even breaths warming the back of your neck.

[shroomdreams]

Awoo!

Male Wolf Hybrid x Fem Puppy Hybrid Reader

NSFW

CW: Non-con, reader in heat, p in v, creampie, implied marathon sex, breeding kink, impregnation, reader is depicted with breasts and vagina A/N: Something short for y’all to chew on. Also i know i said i'm not into non-con but I've been reading a lot of josei smut manga and it's bled into this fic sdgjhdslkgjh 1.5k words

Imagine being a puppy hybrid dealing with your heat.

As one of the dog hybrids tasked with guarding the farm, you’re trained to take down threats and keep your friends safe. Your pack consists of you, your little brother, and your grandpa! Grandpa’s been getting on in years, and your little brother is still a bit too rowdy to be a proper guard dog, so most of security duty goes to you.

However, if there was one thing you hated about being a puppy hybrid, it’s the heats you go through.

Curling up on your bed, you growl and tear into your chew toy as your hips desperately hump the pillow, staining the fabrics with your juices. It never gets any easier dealing with heats, especially the aftermath where you bleed all over everything. To make matters worse, the owners of the farm have been thinking of getting a dog hybrid for you to mate with! Absolute nonsense. You don’t need any mates, not at all!

Still, you’re grateful that your owners decided to give you the week off to deal with your heats. Much as you despise the process, it was a chance for you to somewhat relax while your little brother takes over your job for the mean time. However, the toys your owners bought weren’t anywhere near enough to stamp down the fire in your loins, but it was better than nothing. Unbeknownst to you or anyone in the farm, things were about to change.

In the early hours of the morning, a lone man stalks the near the woods, his wolf ears flicking around for any sound of prey. Then, a tantalizing scent wafts to his nose. He’s off, quickly tracking down the delicious scent. His feet carry him to a farm, where everyone was still slumbering. The scent comes from a little hut just a few ways off, fenced off from the rest. Though as the wolf made his way to the hut, he’s stopped by a smaller figure, who fiercely glares at him.

“Heck off, stranger! Yer trespassin’ on private property!”

Unimpressed, he raises a brow as he crosses his arms. “And what are you gonna do about it, runt? You’re way too scrawny to be a threat.”

The dog hybrid shakes his head, clearly agitated by his presence. “Don’t matter, I can take ya!” He growled. As the wolf takes a stance, the two are interrupted when the hut’s window flaps open. The scent practically rolls out as you snarl at the two of them.

“WILL YOU TWO PIPE DOWN?! AH’M TRYIN’ TO GET SOME SLEEP HERE!”

“Eek! Sorry sis!”

The wolf hybrid takes a moment to assess the source of the scent he’s been tracking. You’re definitely way older than the pup who called you sis, and your body has been toned from years of fighting off enemies. He eyes your dribbling pussy, your flushed cheeks, and your agitated body language.

Oh yeah, he’s come to the right place. He doesn’t get another chance to eye you up before he’s face-to-face with the barrel of a gun. Right in front of him is a much older dog hybrid wearing glasses. “Howdy pardner. Ya got ten seconds to step away from ma grandbabies b’fer I put lead in ya.”

He wisely retreats, his hands up as he steps back into the woods. The whole time he does, he’s kept his eyes on your hut, watching you squint at him as you slam your window shut. Now that he’s confirmed your presence, there’s no way he’s just going to leave.

He spends a day or two observing your brother and grandpa’s behavior, taking note of their quirks. His tongue licks his lip as his hand strokes his cock, thinking about your previous appearance. You didn’t bother throwing on a shirt or undergarments, as your heat made wearing clothes extremely unbearable. The wolf grins, as he waits for the sun to go down…

…At night, you’re awoken by the sound of your door creaking open and the smell of a wolf inside your room. Before you could fully open your bleary eyes, the wolf hybrid pins you down, your combined weight sinking into the mattress. “You smell better up close,” The wolf growls, nibbling at your neck. You thrash about, trying to push him off of you. “Quit squirmin’-”

Your freeze when you feel his hardening length slide against your folds, your pussy instantly clenching around nothing while secreting arousal. “G-Get offa me!” You say, hitting his shoulders in a futile attempt to drive him off. However, the wolf manages to grab your hands, holding your wrists down with one of his own hands while the other caresses your body. An involuntary whimper leaves your mouth when he fondles one of your breasts, kneading the flesh in his palm while his cock smears itself in your juices. You’re acutely aware of how large he is, and you haven’t at all taken a toy that matched anywhere near his size.

“Poor thing. Haven’t your humans gotten you a mate yet? Then again, I bet they’d just grab some random stray off the street… But don’t worry, girl. I’ll make sure to satisfy ya.”

His lips crash into yours, tongue forcing its way inside and tangling with yours. Your moans are muffled as he presses his body closer to yours, legs parting wide open. “N-Noooo…” You whimper, trying in vain to shut your legs, watching as the wolf angles his cock towards your entrance. The tip breaches your entrance, causing your legs to fly up from the stimulation as you become breathless. Gasps are wrung out of you as your walls struggle to take the wolf’s length. He growls, hand on your hip as he tries to coax you into loosen up.

You struggle to breath, eyes rolling into your skull as he fully sheathes his cock within your warmth, the nearly kissing your cervix. The wolf huffs, noting the little ring of white decorating the base of his shaft as he draws his hips back, shallowly thrusting inside. “Squeezin’ me real good there, girl. You’ve been hungry for a man’s cock for a while now, haven’t you?”

“N-No- Mmh!” Your protests are cut off when he gives you a sharp thrust in reply. Your hut quickly fills with lewd slapping as you pant out, your poor cunt being constantly rubbed by the wolf’s length. “T-Take it out! I don’t- Aaah! I d-don’t wanna be your mate! Oooh!” You yelp when he suddenly sinks his fangs into your neck, marking you as he roughly slams against you. You’re suddenly flipped on your front, ass up in the air while your face is smooshed down on the pillow.

“This whole den of yours will be perfect for our cubs,” The wolf groans, grinding himself close to your ass while his cock stirs your insides. You shake your head, tears dripping into the bed sheets as the wolf picks up the pace again, making you cry out for mercy. “Fuck- What do you say? I’ll give you a- huff- A litter. We’ll make a whole new pack together.”

“I- I don’t wanna-” You sniffle. The wolf chuckles as his hand swoops down to tease at your clit, the sensation making you cry out in alarm. “I don’t want a litter! I- I don’t-”

“Your pussy says otherwise. Huff- It’s squeezin’ the life outta me. Guess I’ll have to give your body what it needs.”

“N-no! Ohhh! Ahhhhhh! N-Not inside, please! Ah! Ah! I ain’t ready to be a mama! Ah! Ahhhhhhhhh!!”

Gripping your hips tight, the wolf pounds you hard until the feeling in your stomach snaps when you feel his knot squeeze in with a pop!, clamping down on his cock while he pumps his seed inside. You go brainless as your hips push against him, tongue lolling out while he snarls in approval. “There you- pant- go. See how nice you feel?”

Your world spins as he pulls you up, your back against his chest as he gently bounces you up and down on his knot.

The next day…

The poor farmhand who is sent to check on you is thinking about possible jobs he might take after he witnesses the scene happening within your home.

Your legs were wrapped your mate’s waist as he bounces you in tandem with his thrusts, streams of cum leaking from your drooling cunt and onto the floor below. The wolf hybrid growls, forcing his knot in your cunt as you whine from the overstimulation, pulsing around his cock as your arousal gushes around him. The farmhand wisely decides to leave you two alone when the wolf snarls at him, closing the door as he walks off.

“...I ain’t getting paid enough for this shit.”

A few months later, you’ve given birth to a healthy litter of wolfdog hybrids. Your mate licks the bite mark he left on your skin as your children suckle on your breasts. Though your grandpa was less than pleased, he begrudgingly puts up with the wolf hybrid as he watches over his great-grandchildren, while your brother plays with one of your daughters.

Safe to say, you won’t be getting rid of that darn wolf any time soon.

[makethatelevenrings]

Contaminated // D. Grayson x f!reader

Requested? Yes!

Warnings: SMUT 18+ ONLY. Minors get BACK. Go yearn for the mines awaY FROM HERE. Emotions! Sex pollen but it’s enthusiastic consent. Unprotected sex.

Summary: Three months ago, Dick Grayson told you he didn’t love you anymore and walked out the door. Tonight, you found yourself the unwitting victim of a Poison Ivy attack that forces Dick Grayson to end up on your doorstep once again. Will he help or will he leave once again?

Your hands shook as you unlocked the door of your apartment. Your skin prickled as the fabric of your hoodie scraped against the sensitive skin of your arms. A desperate whimper escaped your lips at the way your very cells seemed to burn with the strength of a thousand suns.

Somehow you got your mind straight long enough to lock the door behind you before you stumbled towards your bedroom. You kicked off your shoes as you went and your hoodie soon followed. Fuck, it wasn’t enough. Everything was hot but at the same time, you felt sweaty and chilled like you had a fever.

Something was wrong.

Grabbing your phone, you fought against the blurring of your vision in order to locate the contact you needed. You knew she would pick up the phone in seconds because she was glued to her tech everyday.

“What’s up, babes?” Barbara answered after the first ring. “If you’re calling to reschedule brunch, I have terrible news for you. I won’t allow you to skip out aga-”

“Babs,” you rasped. “Something’s wrong.”

The cheery tone fell from the redhead’s voice in seconds and you heard her start typing on her keyboard. “Where are you?”

“Home. I was walking home from work when Ivy attacked the park and I think I inhaled some of the spores. I don’t…I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Barbara swore under her breath. “The closest person to you is Nightwing.”

Your heart dropped. No. Not him. “Who else?”

“Everyone else is busy. I’m sorry, but I’m sending him.”

Your stomach cramped painfully, nearly knocking you to your knees, and you let out a groan. “Okay, okay. Fuck it. Fine.”

“We’re going to help you. I promise. I have to go handle something right now, but I’ll make sure I check on you.”

“Thanks, Babs.” Your breath escaped you in short pants, like a dog in heat. Fuck, it was hot in here. You wanted nothing more than to strip off your pants and shirt and lay on the cool tile of your bathroom, but you couldn’t. Not when he was coming over.

Richard Grayson, your ex boyfriend. Richard Grayson, the man who came over one night three months ago and broke up with you on your doorstep. Richard Grayson, the man you had loved for years until your heart shattered with a few words.

“I don’t love you anymore,” he had said. And then he dropped a box of your things on the doorstep and walked out of your life.

Fuck Dick Grayson. Fuck Nightwing. Fuck him and his pretty boy smile. He could go to hell.

“Shit.” As if the mere thought of your ex triggered it, you were suddenly acutely aware of the seam of your pants pressing against the sensitive flesh of your cunt. Shit shit shit, you cannot be horny in front of Dick Grayson. You just needed to keep a level and calm head until he gave you the antidote and then you could send him out on his ass.

Another wave of shaking wracked through your body and you let out a hiss of pain, doubling over until your face met the soft fabric of your comforter. Your body joined you on the mattress and you pulled yourself up until your cheek rested on the cool rayon fabric of the pillow. Curling your knees up towards your chest, you let the shakes consume you and prayed that Dick wasn’t so over you that he refused to come.

As though he heard your thoughts, you heard the window to your living room slide open. The slight screech of the old rubber sides sounded faster than normal and you figured he just wanted to get this over with.

The window shut and footsteps pounded towards the door to your bedroom. Your teeth chattered violently as you shook with this hellish hot/cold state your body had been thrust into. The shaking made it hard for you to lift your head, but you were able to make eye contact with the last man you wanted to see.

“Fuck,” Dick said in greeting. “Babs said Ivy got you, but she didn’t say it was this bad.”

You willed your jaw to stop rattling and shrugged. “Ran home so I didn’t pass out on the sidewalk or something.”

He stripped off his glove and pressed the back of his hand against your cheek. Shit. Oh fuck. Just the feel of his skin against yours was euphoric. A small mewl escaped you and your back arched in some desperate attempt to get closer to him. Dick ripped his hand away, a panicked look flitting across his masked face.

“Damnit Ivy,” he snarled.

“Am I dying?” It certainly felt like it. Your skin prickled painfully at the loss of contact and you tried to hold back the burn of tears that grew in your eyes.

“No, you’re not dying.” His hand drifted up to his ear where you knew a comms device rested. “Ivy hit her with sex pollen.”

A startled, albeit bitter, laugh escaped you and you shook your head. Of fucking course. Sex pollen meant you would have to wait for the antidote and get progressively hornier and in more pain. Or you could get off…

On autopilot, your hand drifted down to the waistband of your pants but the small part of your brain still in control screamed at you to stop. Tearing your hand away, you inhaled deeply and pressed your face further into the pillow. Not when he’s here.

“Just go get the antidote and I’ll suffer for a bit,” you snapped.

Dick barked out a sardonic laugh. “Do you really think I’m going to leave you like this?” Oh, the irony. If you weren’t burning up, you would laugh in his face and tell him to get the fuck out. All you could manage was glaring at him from your fetal position.

“I thought leaving was your specialty,” you hissed, venom lacing your tone. Your barb made a direct hit because his trained impassive face crumpled for a brief second. The cool drag of a tear along your cheek made you aware of the rising heat in your face and you brushed the tear away.

“Fuck you Richard Grayson. I know you don’t want to be here so you can go. I’ll just wait until someone can bring me the antidote.”

“You’re in pain,” he said barely above a whisper.

“Yeah, well, as if you care. I’ll just call Wally or Kaldur. Hell, I’ll call up Jason. I’m sure he won’t mind helping.”

“Stop,” he growled. “You won’t call anyone. I’m here. I’ll help you.”

Despite the aching weakness in your bones, you pushed up off the mattress so you could face him fully. Your arms trembled with exertion, but somehow you held yourself up.

“You left me. I don’t know what I did to make you hate me or whatever, but you left me and so you don’t have a right to be concerned. So do what you do best, Dick, and leave.” You were impressed by the way your voice stayed firm despite the tears streaming down your face. You were bracing yourself to see him walk out once more, leaving you in pain, both emotional and physical this time.

He turned away, showing you the kevlar spandex weave of his suit on full display. Just a few more steps and he would be out the window and out of your life again. Your breath caught in your throat, the pain surging through your veins. You whimpered and started to slowly lower yourself back down, but two strong hands settled on your shoulder and waist. Dick curled himself around you as if he could protect you from the fire licking at your insides. You shuddered at the firm pressure of his hands on you and in the moment of clarity, raised your chin to meet his gaze.

He had taken the mask off.

“It hurts,” you whispered.

His head lowered and he inhaled deeply before speaking once more. “I can’t, baby. You’re not thinking straight.”

Clasping your hands against his cheeks, you drew his head up and leveled him with a look. “Please, Dick. Make the pain go away.”

You had missed the taste of him. Dick’s hands drifted down to your hips as he slotted his lips against yours and pushed you back to lay against the bed. A gasp escaped you and he swallowed it with his tongue that pushed into your mouth. Everything was happening so quickly that it made your head spin in the best way possible. You shuddered as he unbuttoned your pants and slipped his long fingers under the band of your underwear.

“Oh,” you moaned as he brushed the rough pad of his finger along your slit. He chuckled and pressed a kiss to the hollow of your throat before nipping at the soft skin of your jaw. Your legs closed instinctively as the toxin mixed with instinctive lust surged through your veins. Dick tutted and tugged at the hem of your shirt. You let him remove it and then he made quick work of your pants and underwear.

And then he stood up, unzipped his suit, and revealed the body you had dreamed about for nights.

Dick wasted no time in scooping you up and settling you between his legs, your back against his chest. One of his hands tugged your knee, pulling your legs apart, as the other drifted down to your soaked pussy.

“That’s my pretty girl,” he purred as you sagged against his chest. Dick nuzzled his nose against your temple as his fingers rubbed in lazy circles over your swollen cunt. Anytime your hips shifted, he made sure to keep you steadily locked in his hold.

“That feel good, baby?” he breathed. You nodded, too blissed out to speak, and he grinned that cocky smile you missed so much. Dick tipped your chin back and pulled you in for a filthy kiss, his tongue searching your mouth and leaving the lingering taste of his peppermint gum on your lips.

Your orgasm rocked through you faster than you expected thanks to the pollen flooding your veins. Legs trembling, you shook and thrashed against Dick as your cunt clenched around empty air. Dick held you tightly against him and continued his ministrations until you were whining about how it was-

“Too much. Ah! Dick, too much.”

“You’re still burning up, baby,” he murmured.

“I need your cock. I need you to fuck me again. I missed the feel of you in me, Dick.”

His tongue trailed along the sweaty line of your neck and your back arched off of his chest as he left along a cool trail. His slick soaked fingers drifted up to rub and pinch your nipples, alternating between both with equal devotion.

“Did you fuck anyone else?” he panted. “Tell me, baby. Did another man make you feel as good as I do?”

“No!” You needed him to fill you. You would combust if his long cock didn’t enter you in the next five seconds. You struggled against his grip in an attempt to flip yourself over and ride him, but Dick was too strong.

“No,” you gasped. “I touched myself and thought of you. No other man could satisfy me.”

As though you were a delicate package, he cradled your head as he slid you down onto the mattress and slotted himself between your spread thighs.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good, princess.”

Any retort left you as your mouth dropped open. Three months without him had made you forget how fully he consumed you. Your folds parted as he split you open with his shaft, whimpers and pants escaping him as he slowly and surely slid into your waiting body. He hefted your legs up and you wrapped them around his waist as he finally bottomed out.

“I missed you,” he murmured.

You, your traitorous mind echoed. Not this. You.

No. This was just his way of helping you.

A throaty groan tore past your lips as he pulled out, the veins of his cock dragging against your walls, and then pushed back in. Your eyes rolled back as he brushed against your g-spot. He was more than just his name, not by much. Dick Grayson laid pipe like he was a union plumber going on forty-five years.

“Fuck me like you mean it, Grayson.”

He yanked his hips back and drilled into your cunt. You clawed at his back as he started to jackhammer into you. The fever was slowly abating as your second orgasm built. You lifted your hands to play with your own tits but he batted them away. Dick ducked his head down and enveloped your right nipple in his mouth, sucking and licking at the soft skin there. The constant stimulation adding to the electricity surging through your veins and you threw your head back. Dick let go of your breast with a soft pop and he stroked your cheek, dragging your attention back to him.

“Look at that, princess. Look at how well you take me,” he said. You nodded dumbly at his words and he forced your head up. Your gaze fixed on the way his cock slid in and out of you and, coupled with the feeling of him inside of you, had your second orgasm crashing over you like a wave.

“That’s it. There’s my good girl. You were made to take me. I missed fucking this pretty pussy. I. missed. you.” He punctuated the last three words with deep thrusts before he pulled out and let his cum streak along your tits. Dick’s chest heaved with exertion but he reached up and pressed the back of his hand to your forehead and then to your cheeks.

“How…how is it?” you asked.

He scooted back a bit and leaned forward so he was bracketing your hips. “You like doggy style, right?”

A pounding headache and a dry mouth was your morning gift. The warmth of the sun touched your cheeks gently and you relaxed when you realized you were no longer sweating buckets and burning up.

But a heavy, warm presence was still in your bed.

You slowly turned over to face Dick who was already awake. He reached up and checked your temperature again before offering you a wry smile. “Fever broke. You passed out around orgasm number six. I got you some water and snacks and you’ll need to take a shower. I can start the laundry once you’re in the shower. I’ll wait to leave until you’re feeling alright. Just to make sure you’re okay.”

Your heart ached at the tenderness of his words. This was the man who practically launched himself off the couch to get you a bandaid after you gave yourself a papercut while reading a book. This was the man who kept your favorite coffee and tea stocked at his place. This was the man who walked out on you and told you that he didn’t love you anymore.

“Dick…” Your soft voice stopped him from climbing out of the bed. He settled in next to you, the thin sheet pooling at his waist and revealing his well-muscled torso.

“I left because they put a hit on your head,” he said. Warm breath washed over your face and you shivered at the contact. His azure eyes searched your face before he continued.

“I couldn’t risk losing you. Permanently. I’ve buried too many people, baby, and I refuse to lose you until you’re old and gray.”

“No one knows I’m connected to Nightwing,” you whispered.

“No, but they know you were connected to Dick Grayson. There are a lot of people that aren’t happy about what I’ve been doing to help Bludhaven. I’ve made enemies and they knew exactly where to target.”

“But Nightwing stopped them, right?”

His full lips lifted at the corners, amused at your unfailing trust in him, and he nodded. “Destroyed their entire operation.”

“So there was no threat.”

His eyes softened and he reached up to touch your cheek. “Being with me puts you at risk. Always.”

“I never felt as safe as I did with you. Last night, you helped me because you would never let anything hurt me. Right? You’ll never let anyone hurt me.”

He moved in close and pressed a delicate kiss to your forehead. Your eyes fluttered shut as his lips drifted down to lay a kiss to each eyelid, cheek, your nose, chin, and finally landing on your lips. This wasn’t the rushed, burning kisses from the night before.

This was soft and gentle and, underneath the veneer of sweetness, it was an apology.

“I’ll go get the shower started so it’s warm,” he murmured once he pulled away. “And I’ll cook breakfast while you’re getting clean.”

“And we’ll talk?”

He smiled. Not the fake media smile he perfected years ago. Not the confident, cocky grin he gave his teammates. It was the smile only you saw. The soft, tender curve of his lips as his vulnerability shone through.

“Yeah.” His fingers interlaced with yours. “We’ll talk.”

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[shortcakesturns]

𝐅𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 - 𝐌. 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐎 𝟎𝟐

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: 𝐓𝐰𝐨 𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬, 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐫: 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐨𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐫 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧: 𝐘/𝐧, 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫. 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐝 𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡, 𝐲/𝐧𝐬 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲/𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐬𝐜𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐥𝐞. 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐬 𝐢𝐧?

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. 𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓, 𝐒𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐍, 𝐃𝐑𝐔𝐆 𝐔𝐒𝐄, 𝐀𝐋𝐂 𝐔𝐒𝐄, 𝐔𝐍𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐏 𝐈𝐍 𝐕, 𝐒𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐓, 𝐏𝐔𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐂 𝐒𝐄𝐗, 𝐏𝐄𝐓 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒, 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐒𝐇 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐆𝐄

part 1

The moonlight gleams through my window reflecting into my floor. The silence is overbearing, my eyes focus on random things in the dark trying to make out what it could be.

My thoughts race and my mind can’t grasp what had just happened tonight, Brad got in a fight with my enemy Matt leaving me with a date to homecoming.

I wasn’t excited for homecoming anymore, I didn’t want to see brad and I most certainly did not want to go with matt. However, the thought that lingers in my head is seeing Brads stupid face when he sees me and Matt together. Twisted and confused his mouth agape, whispering to his friends while Matt keeps a smug smirk on his face.

A loud ding comes from my phone and with that I’m snapped out of my thoughts and my eyes are glued to my screen, an Instagram notification from Matt.

“What’s your number?” the chat reads.

I roll my eyes and type out my number, as soon as I hit send I see his icon typing.

“thanks.”

Another notification pops up but this time from messages.

“y/n.”

“matt.”

“what color is your dress?”

“it’s red.”

“Lucky for you I have a red tie, i’ll pick you up tomorrow an hour before the dance so we can get pictures and I can take you out to dinner.”

“okay matt, but don’t expect anything to happen. THIS IS JUST, keyword JUST to make brad jealous, okay?”

“don’t want anything to happen so chill.”

before I can respond another text is sent, “Go to sleep, it’s 1am.”

“your not my mother matt, i’m going to sleep now anyways.”

He sends a thumbs up emoji and I exit out of messages, looking at my wallpaper of me and brad. I decided to change it to a picture of me and my dog oatie. I open my alarm app and set alarms at 7:00 and every five minutes until 8. I shut my phone off and the familiar darkness is back again but this time i’ve been able to ease up and focus on going to sleep.

The sunlight shines through my window replacing the moonlight from the night before and my alarm blares me awake. I look around for a second before getting up and putting on a button-up pj shirt and silk bottoms, and head downstairs.

“You ready for your appointments?” my mom asked.

“Yeah, yeah i’m ready let me just go put some shoes on and eat some food.” I smile excitedly.

“No,no y/n you don’t need to be eating food before the dance you’ll bloat.” my mom looks disappointed and I nod.

“right,right…” I turn around to get shoes and brush through my fair toned hair and grab my phone.

I rush down the stairs and shut the front door and head to my mom’s car so I can go to my hair and makeup appointment. I sit in the front seat and as we make our way to the places, I look out at the views and try to comprehend that this is real.

*lil time skip*

I stand in my room looking at my makeup and hair, my hair curled beautifully in a half up half down with flowers intertwined with the strands of braids for my half up half down. My makeup perfectly fitting my face.

I look at the time and it’s 30 minutes before Matt is supposed to be here, I slip my red silky tight fitting dress on and fix the thin straps. The dress is long enough to cover what it needs to but short enough to show off my body perfectly.

I feel my phone buzz and look down.

“What’s your address?”

I send him my address and the nervous pacing begins to start, my mom always liked Matt. She knows his mom and his brothers, did she like Brad? i’m not sure, but I know she’ll be ecstatic to see Matt. That makes one of us.

My pacing continues, and the nerves grow and grow by the minute, the doorbell rings and i’m knocked out of my thoughts knowing that just below Matt sturniolo is dressed in a suit in tie ready to take me to a dance.

I hear the door open, “MATT!!!” my mom screams, “MARYLOU!!!!” she screams again, her screams pierce the air. “Y/NNNN!!!” at this point I was sure my ear drums bursted.

I walk down the stairs and as soon as my eyes meet Matt he checks me out and smiles. “wow, you look beautiful.” Oh my ear drums definitely bursted cause what is this?

“thank you matt.” I smile back hiding my confusion.

I walk up to him, he holds my arm out and puts on the corsage. Surprisingly I didn’t even ask for one. I put on his flower and we take pictures for our families.

After 15 minutes or so of awkward posing Matt and me leave together in his car to go out to dinner.

He opens the door for me and I sit down and buckle my seatbelt, matt gets in and slams his door.

“that was absolutely fucking terrible.” he hits his head on the steering wheel.

“beautiful? that was crazy.” I glare at matt and he lifts his head.

“Don’t let it go to your head, i said it for show.” he spits out harshly, I turn my head towards the window and he begins driving.

No I wasn’t bothered by what he said, I was used to it from him. I was bothered that he called me beautiful.

We arrive at a super fancy steakhouse, matt gets out of the car and opens the door for me.

“After you I guess.” he says blankly. I step out of the car and matt follows closely behind me.

We walk in and get seated, We sit across from each other matt letting me take the booth seat.

“So what are you gonna get?” Matt asks.

“Prob just a salad.” I look up at him.

“Shut up.” he squints his eyes. “Get a steak, it’s a steakhouse dumbass.” He points at a steak.

“I can’t my mom said i’ll bloat.” he smacks his head.

“Do you think I give a fuck? no. nobody does but her. so you’ll get a steak and that’s that.” he pulls back and the waiter comes over.

“can I just have a sprite?” matt laughs at my question.

“i’ll take a water with lemon please.” matt asks the waiter.

“and for food we’ll both take a original well done steak, thank you.” he smiles and turns to me as the waiter walks back.

“Did you really just order a sprite, are you a child.” he laughs.

“what sprite is so good.” I smile.

We engage in conversation and eat or food once it came out. I check the time once we finish and Matt pays.

“Matt..we have 10 minutes to get there.” Matt shoots up.

“shit, come on.” we get up from the seats and rush to the car and matt starts his way to the venue.

after some time we make it to the venue and Matt gets out of the car, opening the door for me and I step out. “Y/n, this is what we’re gonna do. Act all cute together and happy and make brad jealous then i’m gonna take you home and we will never speak of this again. Got it?”

I nod and matt takes my hand and we enter the venue, turning heads as we walk past. Eventually we walk past Brad and his mouth drops, his face is twisted and Matt has a smug smirk just as I imagined . Matt’s hand snakes around my waist and turns to look at me.

“it’s working.”He grips me tighter.

“I know.” I whisper.

“Let’s go dance.” he says loud enough for brad to hear.

The music plays and we begin to feel the music flow through our veins, I get carried away and grind up against matt, his head is thrown back and jaw is clenched his grip on my waist is deadly.

he leans down, “Quit it..” he groans out.

“Why matt, can’t handle it?” I smirk

“No, you won’t be able to handle the aftermath of this.” He mutters.

I continue to grind up against him, before im being dragged out of the venue glancing at everyone and then i’m met with the darkness of the sky. Matt continues to grip on my wrists and pulls me to the car. Throwing me down in the backseat with the door still open he stands there. “you want this?” he asks.

“Yes, yes please matt.” Matt lifts my dress up to reveal a thong. Nothing else.

“damn, so your a whore?” he inquires.

He flips me on my stomach and pulls my thing to the side and fumbled with the belt before his pants hit the concrete. The thrill of being caught making my wet spot grow. A harsh slap collides with my ass leaving a bright red mark as Matt spreads my cheeks.

“So wet I can just slide right in there.” he breathed out.

He slides his dick in with no help from his hands and bottoms out at my cervix. The stretch and unfamiliar feeling making me slightly uncomfortable. “Don’t worry baby, I know you’ve never had this big i’ll let you adjust.”

He does just that and waits. “Matt..” I moan out.

“hm, what baby?” the dirty familiar smirk is heard in his voice.

“move, pl- please.” I stumble over my words.

“not being able to talk right, damn princess it really that good?” he begins to move harshly against my hips.

His dick hitting it deeper by the thrust. Within no time a white ring forms around the base of his dick. “Fuck it’s so good matt, I can’t believe this.” He pounds into me relentlessly.

“I know baby, I can tell. F-Fuck best pussy ever.”

My mind is hazy as Matt continues to fuck me, I feel a tug on my hair and I moan out, “oh fuck.”

“oh you like that pretty girl, oh your such a slut.” He pounds me harder as I begin to feel myself shake and clench around his dick.

“I’m gonna cum matt, i’m gonna-.”

“Let it out sweet girl, let it out.” He cried

With a couple more thrusts we release at the same time.

“Pull that dress down.” he lifts up my chin and I quickly pull my dress down and get in the passenger seat.

Matt sits in the drivers seat and standing before us is brad, fuming with a red face.

Matt rolls down the window, “can you move buddy?”

Brad scoffs, “What’s are you doing with him?”

“I took your bitch.” he speaks.

“is that true?” brad looks at me.

“sounds about right.” I nod

“Yeah, so move.” matt agrees

Matt starts up the car and drives me home and in my driveway the silence is broken.

“This won’t happen again.” I look out the window.

Matt moves my face to see his, “Yes it will and you know it, text me if you need me.” He smirks.

—-

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