#rim brake | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

finniestoncrane · 10 months ago

Text

Date, Digger Style

KTJL!Boomer x Fem!Reader, word count: 6k hi i am sorry, this was supposed to be like. a lil silly thing about what a first date with george might be like. and it ended up being 6k words. i just want him so bad it makes me look stupid quite honestly and i am ok with that 💙 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: sleazy behaviour, groping, tongue kissing, just the tip and then not just the tip but agreeably so, lots of physical affection, reader has tits and a vagina, reader is referred to with feminine pet names, descriptions of a gross kitchen, also let's pretend that he's always a lil bit drunk so his drunk driving seems like the normal state of things. he's a villain. he's allowed to break laws lmao (and it's fiction, so i'm allowed to decide what alcohol does to him)

Sitting on the edge of your sofa, you took a quick look at your phone to check the time and to see if you had missed any messages. Nothing. Not even a quick courtesy text with "on my way" typed hastily, or auto filled. You'd been sitting there for twenty minutes already, with no sign of George. If this was what he considered a good start to your first formal 'date' then you two were perhaps too different after all to make this work. He was laid back, to a flaw. Horizontal. And you were more organised, at least more so than George Harkness.

Just as you began typing out a message, you heard the tell-tale screech of the tyres on his van, followed by the rumbling of the engine as he put the brakes on and came out of the creaking door. The sharp buzz at your door was enough for you to know your suspicions were right, and without answering it, you headed downstairs. At the door, you could see Digger, picking at his teeth and tucking the stray strands of hair back under the rim of his hat before he noticed you and struck a pose, goofy smile plastered onto his face.

He moved to grab you when you met him on the steps leading up to your building, but you dodged him, spitting his nickname at him.

"Digger."

"Aw, are you mad cos I'm late? You're not some bloody princess, I think you can wait five minutes!"

"Twenty minutes."

"Twenty, the- Twenty!?"

His eyes were wide as he looked to you, and you offered a solemn and unimpressed nod in response.

"Fuck... alright, that is a bit much. This'll be worth it though, I promise."

Raising an eyebrow, you silently questioned that. You'd known him for a while now, skirted around the conversation, flirted constantly, but turned him down at every offer of a date. And now, when you had finally agreed and given in to his constant pestering, he was going to show up late and not even dressed differently or in clean clothes? You weren't sure it would be worth it. But, if all else failed, you could always count on him to make you laugh, or at very least conjure up a smile. And despite wanting to still maintain an exterior of disappointment, you could feel the corners of your mouth lifting as he opened up the passenger door and gestured to it with his arm, bowing low.

"M'lady, your carriage awaits."

As you stepped up and into the front of the van, the smell was the first thing that hit you. Stale beer, sweat, and about five other scents just indistinct enough to elude your keen nose. Trying not to think about it, you turned to grab your seatbelt and noticed, out of the corner of your eye, that the back of the truck was filled with empty beer cans and bottles, piles of clothing, some dirty and some clean. And in the middle of it all, a mattress, some pillows, and a scattering of sheets.

"Do you live in here?"

"Don't worry about it, babe."

Before you could ask him any follow up questions, he pulled away from the kerb with a stuttering acceleration, and carelessly pulled into traffic. After a few minutes of teeth grinding, life-threatening driving at high speed, he pulled off the main roads and began taking back streets.

Granted, you didn't know where you were going yet, since Digger was insistent on keeping it as a surprise, you still assumed that after ten minutes of nothing but roads dotted with potholes and routes plagued by speedbumps that it was surely quicker to have stayed on the main route until you were closer. However, it became clear that there were intentions behind this path after all, when you turned to question George about the route and found him quickly glancing from the road to your chest, smiling wider every time a bump jostled your body, causing your breasts to jiggle. With a heavy sigh, you turned to look out of the window, concealing the smile that threatened to give away your façade. There was no way you could let him know how oddly flattering you found his constant gawking, that would be a nightmare.

When the van stopped at a red light, you spoke, still looking out of the window, to try and get Digger to tell you where you were going.

"I just would feel better knowing how long we've got left to drive is all."

He reached over to you, placing his hand on your thigh and pressing his fingers and thumb together, squeezing the ample flesh.

"Listen, don't worry about it, we're almost there."

His palm pressed down and skimmed further up your leg, and as you turned to catch his eye, hoping to at least shame him into not continuing his bold heavy petting, you were instead met with his lopsided, careless grin. With one hand on the steering wheel and one permanently on your thigh, he continued driving for another ten minutes, until you were well on the outskirts of the city. When the van finally stopped, you could still hear the tinny rumbling and sharp clinking of the empty bottles and cans bashing around in the back, feeling like it had shrilly inserted itself permanently into your head. But once you had stepped out of the van and the fresh air, plus the odd stench, hit you, you could hear yourself think clear enough to know that you were definitely beginning to regret this decision once more.

"Told ya we wouldn't be much longer! We're here!"

"Where is here?"

"About twenty minutes outside Gotham."

"Digger."

He slapped his hand on your back and pulled you into a side hug, dragging you along as he walked towards the door of the flat roof building with broken neon lights that stood in front of you.

"Ah, come on babe! Get a sense of humour, or you'll always look fuckin' miserable!"

You weren't sure if he could hear your sighing over the sound of the gravel as you made your way to the front door, and he definitely couldn't hear the louder second one you let out when you got inside. The one that was cut short when you realised you could taste the smell that lingered on the air.

Taking your hand, an oddly gentle move from Digger. The moment was gone quickly when he smacked your ass as he ushered you into the dingiest looking booth at the back of the bar.

"George, really? Here?"

"Yeah, babe! This place is great. Cheap beer, good food. I promise, you just gotta trust me, alright?"

Taking a quick look around the place told you otherwise. But there was just something about him you found hard to say no to. Which you imagined would land you in much bigger problems later on, but for now, potential food poisoning and a hangover of the worst order seemed like a fair risk for what would no doubt be a fun night regardless. It always was with George.

"Aw, I know that face! You're on board! Right, I'm gonna go to the bar and get us some drinks and food."

"I don't know what I want though, I haven't looked at the menu."

"Don't have to, I'm getting us the usual. You'll like it, tr-"

"Trust you, yes, I know."

With a wink, he slid out of the booth and you watched him make his way to the bar, leaning on it with his oh-so-cocky attitude as he ordered for you. And when he sat back down, he slid a pint in front of you and began chugging at his own. Looking over the tip of your glass as you sipped, you tried to get a glimpse at the kitchen. From what you could see, it looked like the kind of place that might give any decent health inspector an aneurysm. The chef's clothes were dirty, the walls were a stained yellow colour that seemed as though it was dripping down the walls, and every surface had a strange assortment of crumbs and stains on it. But still, you persevered.

And still, when the plates were slammed down on the table in front of you by the uninterested waitress, you were optimistic. Because you were determined to have a nice time. It was likely that which annoyed you the most of all, because the moment you bit into the greasy sandwich you didn't care in the slightest what kind of health hazard it was prepared in. You just wanted more.

"See, told you it was good."

Nodding in agreement, mouth too full to speak, you swallowed down the rest of the sandwich, although by the time you had finished it and your accompanying beer, Digger was already onto his third pint, and the sandwich was but a memory. Until he burped and you could smell it on his breath, something he found hilarious.

"Lighten up! You try, give it your best shot."

"I'm not having a burping contest with you, George. We're on a date."

"Yeah, but you're on a date with Digger. Way more fun, far less stuffy. Go on."

You mustered up the best you had to offer, cheese and beer and lettuce the most noted flavours in the air you expelled. Closing his eyes for a moment, Digger reached out across the table and took your hands.

"That was, without a doubt... the most pathetic fuckin' burp ever. We gotta get you another drink!"

Before you could say anything, he was already shuffling out of the booth and shakily making his way back to the bar. A bad decision being made and you couldn't really stop him. He could handle his alcohol, definitely, you'd seen him do it a number of times before. Digger could put away what might kill a lesser, for want of a better word, man. But it didn't make him any easier to be around. You'd already found yourself flushing hot, cheeks darkening, a heat building in your stomach with each lingering touch or flirtatious stare. So far this evening, you'd almost kissed him twice. It wasn't going to be any easier to prolong what you felt was the inevitable if he got far too drunk and became his usual, handsy self.

Of course, that's exactly what did happen. One more pint in and Digger was all over you in the booth. He'd leaned in at first to say something to you, speaking over the noise of the bar, close to your ear, his arm reaching up and around you and pulling you close and then keeping you there. As his fingers stroked at your shoulder, the other hand fell to your thigh, periodically squeezing it between his fingers and thumb. And every time you got distracted by how far up your thigh he was snaking his palm, fingers splayed out, pinkie grazing over your crotch, his other hand would pull your attention away as his fingertips skimmed over the top of your breasts.

It was difficult to try and hold him off. You were both tipsy, or at least you were tipsy, Digger seemed to be wasted. No good decision could come from that. But the way he touched you, the way he smelled as he leaned in, sweat, cheap body spray, acrid beer, it was intoxicating. If you'd been any less sober you might have leaned in then and there in the booth to kiss him, tasting the alcohol on his tongue, letting him put his hands all over you, anywhere, anywhere. But luckily, before you could make what you knew was a mistake, he sat back and laughed, one loud and sharp 'ha'.

"I fuckin' love this song, babe! C'mon!"

Before you could argue otherwise, you were being dragged out of the booth to join Digger on the tiny dance floor in front of the band. The song was difficult to dance to, at least you had assumed, given the heavy rock riffs that underlined the inaudible, high volume lyrics. But George wasn't deterred. It was almost endearing, how horrendously embarrassing he was, standing there with his air guitar, throwing goat horns at the band as he bounced on the spot. Cute, nearly. But mercifully cut short as the song ended.

"Aw, just as I was finding my groove."

You smiled at him, rubbing his shoulder in sympathy, biting your inner cheek as you felt how strong he was, impressed by his muscular arm as you let your hand slip down to graze over it.

"A real shame, George. Let's go back to- "

The band started up again, this time, a slower song, one that lent itself well to the kind of 'end of prom' vibes all young lovers were hoping for. And before you could finish your suggestion of heading back to the booth, Digger had pulled you close, his arms around your back, falling to your waist as he swayed back and forth. It could have been dancing, it could have been the uncoordinated shuffling of a man who had one too many beers, but either way, you leaned into it, allowing your head to rest against his chest while you placed your hands, linked together, at the nape of his neck.

It was almost too romantic, in its own, strange way. The dim lights, the other couples around you, the unique twang on the guitars, the stench of the greasy food, and the way George kept his hips, his crotch, pressed tight to you as you leaned against him. Not particularly from a storybook romance, but perfect all the same. You'd known this would happen. One date, and you were already falling for him. Not because of anything he'd done, but because deep down you knew you had been into him, since almost the moment you'd met. But you'd fought it, because men like George Harkness, you assumed, weren't the kind of nice boy you dated.

But here he was, holding you, swaying you, sighing softly as the music swelled. Granted the movements weren't exactly graceful, but they were surprisingly fluid, as though he might be good at dancing when he was sober. Yet another surprise for you to learn about, but obviously not right now. He was trying though, his hands at a respectable height, his head leaning on your shoulder. Every so often, he nuzzled into your cheek, placing a soft kiss to it when the notion took him. And when the song finished, you could hear his words clear, spoken gently into your ear.

"You wanna head out?"

You weren't sure if that was "out" as in "get some fresh air" or "out" as in "let's head home, yours or mine" but either option seemed good. The last remaining bit of sun and a soothing breeze might be enough to sober George up before you brought him back in for more dancing. And if it didn't, you were happy to take him to your place for a coffee, nothing more. Although, you were potentially considering letting him sleep on the sofa. You couldn't imagine how difficult it would be to nurse a hangover in the back of his van.

Outside, finally able to breathe without choking on the stench or the thickness of the air, you watched as Digger shielded his eyes from the sky. His stumbling stopped, and he began walking with his usual confidence, almost sobering up immediately in the light of the day.

"Christ! Still pretty bright out here..."

"Yeah, it's not that late. You tapping out early, George?"

"Nah, nah. Not at all! If I've got you for the night, then I'm havin' you for the night. C'mon, I know a place."

Admittedly, and strangely enough, you really hadn't had enough of him yet. It was one of the few things you agreed on, actually. This was supposed to be a date, you'd set aside the evening for it, so you were keen to make it last as long as possible. You couldn't let George know that, though. Keeping the upperhand seemed to be key with him, so you offered him a reluctant smile and rolled your eyes dramatically.

"Well, I suppose so."

Stepping up into the passenger seat of his van you caught him smiling back at you, knowingly. You weren't kidding him, he wasn't as stupid as he seemed at first pass, but he was kind enough to let you keep up the ruse. It didn't stop him getting a little dig in at you, however.

"Are you sure? If you're not keen I can take you home, babe. Wouldn't want you to be bored or something."

"And where are you planning on taking me that isn't boring, then?"

"Eh... just a little spot I know of. Quiet, secluded. Up that back road to the overlook. But again, if you're not into it..."

"No, no. It sounds... well, it doesn't sound boring, anyway."

Digger laughed, starting up the van which groaned horrendously before sputtering to life. Before he drove off, he turned to you and winked.

"Definitely won't be, it never is with me, babe."

Pulling out of the parking lot, he turned away from the city and onto the quieter roads which led out past the city lines and into the expansive countryside that secluded Gotham from the rest of the world. From the window, you watched the sun slowly setting, clouds turning purple and navy as they pushed in from the sides like curtains on a stage show. You had all the time in the world to gaze peacefully, as George was driving in complete silence, way below the speed limit, focusing intensely on the road. He'd seemed to sober up once you were out of the bar, but you didn't want to distract him while he was doing his best to keep you both alive.

The van bounced along a short dirt trail until it stopped in a small clearing, surrounded by trees on all sides and far above the dim, intrusive glow of the city, which buzzed against the now deep, navy sky. Shutting off the engine, George turned and shot you a smile, eyebrows raised playfully, before he leapt out. He walked quickly to the back of the van and you followed, waiting patiently as he opened the two back doors wide, finally giving you a better look at what had been rolling around there the whole time he had been driving.

There wasn't much you could think to say, being of the opinion that you should only speak if you had kind things to say. From where you were standing, you could definitely tell that you had been correct in your earlier assumptions. This was where he lived. His rolling apartment. Convenient, yes. But it was a long way away from being one of the trendy 'tiny homes' you'd seen. The walls were adorned with four posters in total, all of them the kind of cheap standards you would expect in the bargain bin of some ancient music store, miscellaneous women in very little clothing gazing out as seductively as they could from the airbrushed backdrops. On the floor, there was a stick and poke tattoo kit that looked like it might be the source of several new variants of hepatitis, and it was littered with empty beer bottles and cans, some of which may have been half-full at the point he decided to drive off given how sticky the surfaces looked. And to top it off, there was a worn out mattress. No sheets on it, no sheets around it save for one scruffy blanket. It was covered in stains that you couldn't quite place, which matched the single, dented and almost flat pillow that lay haphazardly to the side.

"You live like this?"

That was what you had wanted to say, but again, your polite nature stopped you.

"Handy to just get in the van and sleep, or get out of bed and go."

George smiled, looking oddly proud of himself.

"See, you get it. You won't believe the amount of people who have been put off by- uh... well..."

He looked to the ground, rubbing at the back of his neck with his hand.

"Not that there's been that many people I've invited into- A-and not that there haven't been any people that have been-"

"George."

You placed a hand on his shoulder and raised your eyebrows, offering him a sympathetic grin. He took the out, thankful that you'd put an end to his suffering, and reached in for the blanket, placing it flat over the top of the bed before offering his hand to you. Taking it, he helped you shift yourself into the back of the van, watching as you got comfortable on the mattress as best as you could, at which point he joined you.

Leaning back on his arms, he looked to the sky, sitting in silence for a few minutes. You had joined him, watching the stars start to sparkle as they became visible against the darkening backdrop. At some point, you realised that he was staring at you, and you wondered how long you'd had his gaze trained on the side of your head. Not on any other part of your body, you noted. He was looking at your face, gazing at your eyes. When you turned, you caught his stare immediately, smiling softly when he blinked and looked away with a cough meant to clear the air of the awkwardness he was bringing about.

Rooting around behind him, he eventually found two unopened beer cans, both of which were loose amongst the rest of his belongings. Keeping one for himself, he passed the other to you. He raised his, tipping his head with a 'cheers' and then cracked it open. You watched the way his Adam's apple bobbed as he gulped, a small trickle of foam slipping past his lips and down his chin. The urge to lean in and lick it off was disturbing, most of all because you felt yourself moving towards him before you even realised it. Settling back down into the strange romance of the moment, you pulled the tab on your own can.

The immediate explosion, the build up of pressure and gasses from the can being jostled around as you drove up the bumpy, dirt track to the spot you now sat in, left you in shock. Your shirt was soaked, completely, and the cool air was already beginning to chill your body. You blinked in shock, watching as Boomer tried to conceal his giggles while he stood up.

"Take your shirt off."

Looking to him, you raised an eyebrow, a look that said "is this really how you're going to make that move?" in a way that he read almost straight away. He began unzipping his blue hoodie, turning from you and passing it behind him, generously, and uncharacteristically, offering you some privacy.

Taking it from him, you quickly made the swap, your body exposed to the cold night air only briefly before you zipped up the hoodie, still warm from Digger's body. You tucked your bra and shirt under the mattress, making a mental note to collect them before you were home, hoping they would be dry. Making sure the zip was up completely, not offering any suggestive cleavage for Digger to hook his ideas into, you settled yourself, noticing that you were smiling. You could smell him on the fabric that covered your body. Beer, sweat, lingering smoke, an acrid smell you couldn't quite place and a sweet one on top of that. As the fabric grazed over you, you could feel your nipples hardening. It wasn't the cold though, it was faint arousal at the way you felt so close to him.

"You done yet, you're only putting a hoodie on!"

"Shit, yeah, sorry."

"I can look?"

He raised his hands, pulling them from his pockets and holding them up to his side, questioningly.

"Mhm, yeah."

When he was facing you again, he let his lips turn into an appreciative expression.

"Looks good. Suits you!"

Thudding back down beside you, George immediately lifted his arm up, wrapping it around your body and pulling you close. You found yourself settling into the hug, a natural embrace, one that made your heart flutter slightly as you let your head rest entirely against him. And then it happened, the moment that secured your confusion about him and his intentions. He sighed wistfully. So deep and joyous, his fingers digging into your arm to let you know you were the reason for the warmth spreading through him.

"It's nice out here, you can actually see the stars. Couldn't tell you what any of them were though."

"Are you kidding me right now?"

He turned slightly to look at you.

"What?"

"What? What are you doing? You brought me up here to look at the stars?"

George narrowed his eyes, his brow furrowing in confusion and slight irritation.

"Yeah! I thought it would be romantic!"

"Exactly!"

"Exa-... what?"

"You're so confusing. This whole evening, you yourself, it's not how I thought it would be. I mean, it wouldn't be you without the occasional grope and cheeky wink, but you've been so... You're so... It's weird to see you being so..."

Digger's hand fell to your thigh, a light pressure aiming to calm you down.

"So what?"

You couldn't answer it, because you weren't even able to settle on a definitive answer yourself.

So confusing?

So disgusting?

So gentlemanly?

So romantic?

So hot?

All of that and more.

And when words had failed you, you decided that you'd have to express your feelings another way.

It was less of a romantic, graceful move and more that you sank into him, falling against his body, your lips luckily making contact with his as you both found your way in the kiss. Neither of you expected it, both of you surprised. The tenderness, the hunger behind it. You could taste everything about him, smell him even better than you had when you had put on his hoodie. You expected he was experiencing the same.

Digger fell back, his hands catching your waist as he pulled you with him, both of you laying now on the mattress in the back of his van. His hands pawed, grabbed, skimmed over you, oddly restrained in fact. That was until you shifted yourself up and onto him, straddling his hips and staring down at him, panting heavily as you both caught your breath and took stock of the situation you were now in. His hands on your waist made their way up to your shoulders, your neck, cupping your cheeks as he grinned at you. Watching your face, your expression, for any subtle changes as he let his hands trail back down your front, fingers catching on to the zip of his hoodie and pulling it down slowly, opening it to expose you to him before he cupped at your breasts as you bit your lip.

"Fuck me..."

Digger let out a low groan that followed his short, to the point statement. His fingers circled your nipples, tightening around them as he teased you. His hips bucked up, jostling you, letting you feel how hard he was. You could tell just from that motion that the rumours about how gifted he was had truth behind them.

Bending down to kiss him again, you let your tongue slip past his lips, his own meeting in your mouth. He tasted divine. Sweet, but acidic. Earthy almost, definitely addictive. Everything felt dream like, surreal. Mostly, you assumed, because you were doing something you'd never dream of, something you knew was ill-advised, a little bit silly, embarrassing in the right company. But it was hard to care.

You were quickly brought out of the dream like state however, as you felt Digger's hands between both of your crotches, unbuckling his belt and fiddling with the zipper on his jeans.

"Wait... on the first date? You think you've charmed me enough for that?"

With the smug, self-satisfied grin you had grown oddly fond of, George looked into your eyes as he spoke.

"I think you started this, so it's a pretty good indication of how much I've charmed you."

He winked as he let his fingers tug at the waistband of your own pants, pulling at them as you leaned in to another kiss. Your attempts to stop him, or at least to pretend that was your intention, were put to one side as your body reacted to the feeling of the cool air against your bare skin, his hands, rougher than you expected, holding your thighs, pulling your pants down further until he needed you to move.

"Well... have I charmed the pants off you at least?"

Smiling back at him, you nodded your head from side to side as though you were weighing up his efforts over the evening.

"I suppose you have charmed the pants off me, yes. But... I'm not sure how much further your winning personality has gotten you."

"There's plenty of time for me to catch up, then."

Clumsily, and with very little grace, you shifted and removed your pants, blushing as you noticed Digger watching you intensely, taking note of every movement, every second of you undresssing, as though you were offering him the performance of a lifetime. As you steadied yourself, he hooked his fingers into the band of your underwear and pulled you back to him, landing you flat on top o f his body, your hands on his chest.

Teasing at the band of your panties, he dipped two fingers underneath the fabric, skating over your mound and down to your lips, stroking them gently before spreading them apart. He rubbed one finger up and down, collecting your slick as he licked his lips, desperate to know how you tasted. Bringing his fingers to his lips, he ran them on his tongue, sucking them with his eyes rolling back.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck me."

He continued unzipping his pants and pulling them down, boxers included, to reveal his more than impressive cock. At least ten inches, easily, thick, perfect, topped with a tuft of almost flaming red hair. Trying to control yourself, you leaned back.

"What are you planning on doing with that, Harkness?"

He squirmed, pressing his eyes shut and biting his lip before he managed to strain himself enough to speak.

"I just want... I want you... touch it... feel you... something... come on, please!"

Shuffling forward, teasing him knowingly as you felt his head, his length, against your thighs, you mused out loud, humming as though you were actually considering it, as though you hadn't already made your mind up yet.

"I suppose... this was a pleasant enough date. I could give you something, throw you a bone."

He nodded furiously below you, muttering his words of agreement.

"But! Just the tip. I'm not sure how much more of that I could take. It should come with a warning."

George actually blushed, looking away from you for a moment, as though the comment had genuinely embarrassed him. It did seem odd to you in that moment that he wasn't constantly bragging about his prowess in that area. He struck you as exactly the kind of person who would mention the size of his cock at any opportunity. You wondered if had the effect on others that it had on you. It was daunting, a little bit nerve-wracking. How many of the few people who had made it this far had given up at the sight of it, you wondered.

Most, you assumed, as despite how desperate he seemed to fuck you, he agreed enthusiastically, happy to be offered any opportunity to get as close to you as possible. He was already pulling at your underwear, grasping at it, trying to pull it down before deciding to push it to the side as he lined up the head of his cock with your swollen lips.

Looking directly at you he maintained the intense eye contact as he slid himself between your lips, pushing at your tight entrance slowly, carefully, only allowing his head to enter you. It felt amazing. So good, better than you thought. It stretched, filled you up, and that was ten percent of what he had to give. He hissed, gritting his teeth in concentration, trying his hardest not to move his hips, to buck them, to push himself any further inside of you.

As you balanced yourself, trying to contend with the little of him that was inside of you, he brought his thumb to your clit, rubbing it, making you twitch, contracting against him, tightening the grip your cunt had on his head. As he groaned, you couldn't help yourself anymore. You wanted him, all of him. You were willing to risk it.

"God, George... just fuck me."

"Wh-what?"

"Fuck me! Just..."

Realising you might need to take matters into your own hands, you let yourself slide down his cock, each inch stretching you further, a shockwave of pain followed by dull throbs of ache and arousal coarsed through your body, the pit of your stomach feeling pressed, your insides stuffed with him. Llike you were being entirely consumed, enveloped, in George Harkness.

"Christ..."

It was all he could manage with the limited breath he had, his whole body stopping any other function to focus on not letting himself cum inside of you immediatel. The sudden warmth, the tight, wet embrace, the way you leaned back, breasts bouncing as helped yourself to him, riding his cock as he lay back and held your hips. His thumbs, stroking against your skin, where the top of your thighs met your lower stomach, feeling your own desperation as you worked him harder, faster, palms resting on his chest to balance yourself as you took everything he had.

Brows furrowed in concentration, pursuing your orgasm, you wailed as his fingers found their way back to your nipples, teasing them, grabbing at your breasts as you rolled your hips and felt his cock twitching agaisnt your walls. It hurt, but in a way that was delicious, a way that felt like it should be borderline illegal, like most things that provided such a wonderful, addictive experience were. But there you were, enjoying it. Loudly, explicitly. And very publicly. It didn't matter to you, and it really didn't seem to matter to George. You were quite happy to scream it from the rooftops then and there, how much you were enjoying it. Being fucked by Captain Boomerang, as ridiculous as his name always seemed to you. You'd be quite content to tell everyone that he was making you cum, that he was one stroke of his thumb against your erect nipples, one tap of his cock against the exact spot inside of you, from losing all composure.

"George... George..."

"Yeah... yeah, it's good... eh? I'm good."

"Fuck, you are. Yeah. Yes! Yes!"

One final, loud, resounding 'yes' echoed around you, filling the air, bursting through the trees. You imagined that anyone within a five mile radius might have heard Digger coming. His cock, falling from you against his body, still dripping with your slick, still spurting streams of his thick, white cum all over his abdomen, covering his thick pubic hair. His hands, still embedded in your skin, creating deep, red marks where the grip was far too tight, stinging so perfectly pleasantly.

Your own notes of pleasure hadn't exactly been all that much quieter than his own, but still drowned out by the amped up grunting and wailing of George. At least you could hold that saving grace. Allow yourself to cling to that modicum of your dignity.

Because you certainly weren't bothered about any other facets of it, as you slid down beside George on the dingy mattress, curling around his body, hand on his chest, smugly satisfied to know that you had contributed to the stains that would no doubt be a permanent feature.

#captain boomerang #digger harkness #george harkness #captain boomerang x reader #captain boomer x you #captain boomerang fanfic #finnie writes

635 notes · View notes

rafeyscurtainbangs · 3 months ago

Text

House-Sitting - JJ Maybank One Shot

+18 Minor DNI

JJ x Girlfriend!Reader

⭐️ republished ⭐️ <- my first ever JJ post 🥹

+18 Minor DNI

🪄 warnings: SMUT, shower stuff, lots of pet names, lovey JJ, oral (male receiving), unprotected p in v, practically plotless

📖 You’re house sitting and smut ensues

✨ You bite your lip and shake your head ‘no’. Your focus shifts, drifting lower, watching as he brings the stream of water to your pussy, hitting your clit, making your knees buckle. You let out a moan, echoing through the bathroom. ✨

3.4K

Reader’s POV:

Your feet pound against the sand, as the sun rises high in the east. My lungs are on fire. Silent screams of pain flood your mind. You glance over at JJ, totally unfazed. His eyes meet yours; a devilish smirk follows. No, JJ. He moves a little faster, just a smidge, a few inches in front of you. You pick up your pace, running next to him.

He chuckles, breathlessly. You return a scoff in annoyance; picking up your speed, and moving ahead of him. JJ breaks out in a sprint, tearing down the beach.

“Jayj!” You scream.

Fuck. He’s fast.

You’re streaming after him; your feet unstable in the sand, birds scuttling out of the way, screeching and swirling overhead. There’s no way you can keep up. His feet kick up sand, peppering you as you take up the rear. “Stop. You little shit,” you hiss. He throws on the brakes. You run past him at full speed. Oh my god, JJ. Turning around your eyes meet his; your hands on your hips, reaching for air.

“Y/N… when did you get so damn slow,” he smiles, voice barely audible. His abs flex tightly with his breathing, sweat drips down his stomach.

Agh… He’s in trouble. But damn… does he look fucking good… His tanned skin glistens in the sun. Two chiseled v’s on his tight waist; his grey shorts clinging tightly to his thighs. His smile widens. “Did you hear me? Or are you too busy gawking, sweetheart? I can repeat myself if you’d like?”

“Mmm…”

“What?”

“To think… I was going to suck you off in the shower this morning.” You pant He looks at you wide-eyed, regretting every single word. Turning pace you trudge back through the sand, making your way to your house sitting house. “That would have been fun. Right, Jayj?” You yell loudly, giving him the finger. You hear him jogging up behind you—you wipe the shit-eating grin off your face.

“No… No. No. No!” JJ barks. “Don’t be a sore loser, baby.” He paws for your ass, giving it a squeeze.

“Knock it off,” you say flatly, pushing him away.

“Mmm… come here, beautiful. Don’t be like that,” he croons, reaching for your arm, grabbing your wrist, and pulling you close. He pinches the rim of his hat, flipping it backward.

Ugh… he knows that drives me crazy.

He lifts you up, walking you towards the house. You wrap your legs around his waist, your arms draped lazily on his shoulders. “You’re glowing, baby.”

“Fuck off.”

“No! I’m serious,” he burns, licking his lip, his head tilted slightly.

“Yeah… yeah… serious about getting your dick wet…” You roll your eyes. “Please.”

“What? Me? Never,” he smiles, leaning in closer, you do as well.

“I’m not kissing you, JJ,” you whisper onto his lips. “And I’m sure as shit not showering with you either.”

“Can I change your mind?“

”No…“ You clip.

“Y/N…”

“JJ…”

“Baby…”

“Maybank…”

“Please…”

“Not a fucking chance.”

“But you need me…” he smiles. “You obviously wanted something from me.”

“My fingers will do the trick but thank you for your concern.”

He smiles wickedly. “Nah… Those things are too small. Look at these,” he chuckles as he wiggles his finger high, showing off his come hither motion.

“Can you set me down?” You scoff.

He steps into the grass, moving towards the house. “Not a fucking chance,” he mocks with a sly smile. His eyes drift to your chest, your breasts pressed together in your black sports bra. He hops, adjusting you in his arms, watching as your chest bounces.

“Ugh…You’re a fucking dog.”

“Yeah… But I’m your good boy. Right?” He barks a few times, giving you a wink.

You scoff, your smile trying hard to push its way through. JJ grabs the door handle, pulling it open; the chill of your air conditioner hitting your glazed skin. You shiver; goosebumps fall over your body.

“Wow… you look chilly, baby. We should probably warm you up.” He presses the door shut. “With like… a shower or something.”

“Enough.”

“Please…”

“Let’s just wait until we get back to The Château. The Williams trust me. If they find out they’d kill me for sure or, at least not let me house-sit. The money’s too good Jayj.”

“They won’t find out,” he pouts. “And, the little note said ‘make yourself at home’. What do you do in a home, doll-”

“Jayj,” you cut him off.

“You fuck,” he finishes his sentence, drawing out the word in an overly seductive tone trying his best to get you to laugh.

“You’re trouble.”

“No shit, baby,” he smiles. JJ jumps again, watching your cleavage recoil on impact, his blue eyes roll back, meeting your gaze with a stare that makes you throb.

“Fine.” You wind up, smacking him roughly on the ass. He lets out a fake moan one second, charging at you the next, tickling you as you fight him off, the two of you scampering down the hall.

“I said ‘leave me alone’,” you squeal.

“Eh. You don’t want that, darlin’,” he chuckles. JJ grabs you, easily pinning you against the wall, kissing you deeply.

“Can we make it to the bathroom at least?” You tease.

He grabs the bottom of your sports bra, tugging it over your head. You clasp your hands to your chest, letting out a gasp. “Hey! I wanna see ’em,” he groans. You give him a little swat on the arm.

“No. They probably have cameras and shit.”

“So?” You smack him again, making him clutch his arm jokingly. “Are we gonna fight fight?” He taunts, swiftly taking you into his arms.

“We are already fighting” You answer flatly, arms wrapping around the back of his neck. “I just slapped you.”

“And, you think you’d win this fight, Y/N?”

“Absolutely.”

“You’re probably right,” he smiles.

“I’m always right,” you sigh as you work your finger into his hair. His eyes shut softly, leaning in for a kiss as you pass through the threshold.

“No. No way. Not their room.” JJ kicks the door shut, not letting you out of his arms

“What’s the point in havin’ a girlfriend if you can’t bone her anywhere you’d like?” He holds back his laugh as the words pass his lips, your mouth, hanging open in disgust.

“What’s the point in having a girlfriend? What? Are we twelve? You’re kinda bein’ a dick.”

“Wanna sit on my lap and tell me how awful I am?”

“Stop. Guest room now.”

“Uff… I love when you boss me around. Do it again.”

“Now. The shower’s nicer anyways.”

“Yeah? Were you thinking about doin’ this,” He taunts. “Were you dreamin’ about me all wet and sexy?” JJ whispers, fighting back a chuckle, but he’s not wrong.

“’Course I was,” you whisper. Making him smile against your kiss.

“My girl.” His tongue slips between your pout, rolling slowly as you moan softly into your kiss.

He turns the handle, water spilling from the head, still cold leaving you the perfect amount of time to play. Your lips meet his neck; a soft kiss, feeling his heartbeat under your lips. You palm his cock, rolling your fingers gently over the fabric. He moans deeply, vibrating against your lips.

You work a little lower, JJ setting you down as you kiss and trace his toned chest and abs, working to your knees. Your fingers run softly against the indentations of his v-lines, making his muscles flex. You smile up at him sinfully, catching your fingers under the band of his shorts, pulling them to his feet. You watch as his aching cock springs free. JJ meets your eyes; his guide shifting as you start to touch your tits as well.

“Fuck, Y/N,” JJ groans.

You take your hands, running them gently against your breasts, circling your nipples with your fingers as he eyes your every move. Steam gathers above as the shower gets warmer, JJ’s features, a little hazier than before. You return your focus below, running your nails up his thighs.

”Fuck you’re huge, Jayj,“ you praise as you take him in your hands.

”Yeah?“ He groans, watching you near his tip, a pearl of precum gathers on his head, rolling slowly down the length of his cock.

“Mmm… Mhmm.” You hum, cleaning him up with your tongue. JJ closes his eyes, tilting his head back to the ceiling.

You continue to toy with him, little licks and flicks. JJ cradles your head in his hands as you swirl slowly. ”Oh my god, Y/N,“ he grunts.

JJ’s eyes open, watching as you kiss him sloppily, teasing him with the thought of your lips wrapped around him, the warmth of your mouth swathing him.

”Shit,“ he whines, sexual frustration painted all over his beautiful face. You smile wickedly, lips parting slightly. His mouth mimics yours, watching in anticipation as you squeeze the tip of his dick. “Those fuckin’ lips, Y/N. Please.”

“Please what?” You taunt. “You were being a dick to me… Why should I suck yours?”

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he soughs, pitching his hips forward. You snake your tongue around his head, working in slow circular movements as you play with his balls. JJ’s eyes shut tight when you alternate directions. ”C’mon, baby. Give me what I want,“ he drawls. You open your mouth wider. JJ chuckles lustfully as you comply with his request. You take him into your maw. “Fuck,” he moans, drawing out the word with a deep breath. You bob back and forth, gagging on his cock each time. He takes your head in his hands as you increase your speed.

JJ starts to quaver on your tongue, mumbling words of praise as you add your hands. He tugs your hair causing you to moan, JJ, answering with the same. He seizes control, stroking slower, taking a different grip entirely. His strong hands holding your cheeks. The head of his cock kisses the back of your throat, spit seeping from the corners of your lips.

“I’m sorry I teased you, darlin’… I just couldn’t help myself,” he sneers, not an ounce of remorse in his voice. He lets out a deep chuckle. “So fuckin’ good at suckin’ cock, Y/N. Jesus Christ” He thrusts deeply a few more times before giving you back the reins. You draw off him fully, a gasp for air releases from your open lips. You spit on his cock, stroking him with your hand, letting your breasts bounce with each movement.

“Do you want my mouth, JJ?”

“Yes, baby.”

“Beg.”

He shakes his head and smiles wickedly.“Yeah, angel? You want me to beg?”

“Mhmm…”

“Please, Y/N. Can I please have your mouth?”

You raise an eyebrow, waiting for more.

“Fuck, Y/N… I need that pretty little mouth wrapped around my cock… I’m beggin’ ya… Please, baby.” You wrap your lips around his tip, creating a suction that makes him groan. Your hands wrap around, gripping his ass as you start to stroke. Lewd noises fill the bathroom, JJ panting and moaning, and you slurping and squelching with each bob.

He hisses out a breath as you drag your nails along his skin. Tears run down your cheeks, eyes locked on his, watching as he starts to near his peak.

“So good, baby… I’m gonna – Fuck.”

You run him even quicker, sucking a little harder as his brows knit tight. His blue eyes soften on yours, fighting to keep them open. You feel him quake on your tongue. Releasing him from your lips you pump fast; arm, wrapped around your ribs, pressing your breasts together. Your mouth opens wide; tongue flat

“Holy shit,” he grunts, inhaling sharply, surrendering to his finish, warm, white ropes landing on your tongue and chest. You bind your fingers a little tighter, milking out his last bits of pleasure, skimming your tongue along JJ’s tip, cleaning up the rest, making his hooded eyes roll back.

JJ takes a clasp on your wrists, pulling you up and into his arms. You wrap your legs around his trim waist, melting into him as he breathes laboriously, coming down from his high.“God damn, baby. You’re so fuckin’ good at that,” he mumbles breathlessly against your lips. “Do you know how good you make me feel?”

You smile against your kiss, sucking off his plump bottom lip slowly, taking it between your teeth. “You make me feel so fucking good, Jayj,” you respire between kisses as he steps into the large walk-in shower.

The water is warm, remnants of his release rise off your body, swirling down the drain. Steam and heat hang heavy in the air making it almost impossible to see. You hook your ankles, driving your body closer as he presses your back into the cool tile wall. He shuts the glass door. JJ’s large handprint streaks across the gathered vapor.

“That feel good, baby? Not too hot?”

“No. It’s perfect,” you whisper.

“Beautiful.”

JJ reaches for the shower head, taking it off the base, turning it to a steady stream. He kicks your foot out gently. A smile spreads on his kiss-swollen lips as he sees you start to put the pieces together.

“Jayj?” You giggle breathlessly.

“You ever done this before?” He questions, gripping the detachable shower head in one hand, the other pinned just over your shoulder as he looks down at you.

“I mean maybe,” you smile.

“No one’s ever done it for you?” He groans, letting the warm water spray against your thigh, working higher and higher.

You bite your lip and shake your head ‘no’. Your focus shifts, drifting lower, watching as he brings the stream of water to your pussy, hitting your clit, making your knees buckle. You let out a moan, echoing through the bathroom.

“Y/N… Fuck, baby. Too much?”

“No. It’s good, Jayj. So good,” you sigh. “Don’t stop.”

JJ moves his arm from the wall to your waist, drawing you closer, rocking slowly, increasing and decreasing the intensity, making you throw your head back in pleasure. JJ’s lips quickly lock onto your skin, kissing you harshly before biting down, making you squeal.

He watches your body carefully, your face, changing with each passing second as you drift closer and closer to your breaking point. You feel your pleasure building fast, the pressure of the water stronger than any toy you’ve used in a while.“You like that. Huh?” He grunts. You nod your head rapidly. JJ leans down, taking your nipple in his mouth, sucking and flicking, causing you to arch your back.

”JJ… Oh my god,“ you hail as your vision starts to cloud—stars in your eyes.

”I can’t wait to fuck you baby. This is just a warm-up, sweet-“

“JJ!” You cut him off, crying out in pleasure as you wrap your arms tighter, nails digging into his shoulder blades. He lets out a devilish laugh, forcing the stream a little closer. “Jay-JJ,” you stutter.

“What, princess?” Your body jolts as you fight him slightly in overstimulation, continuing to ride the waves of your orgasm, pussy clenching tight. ”Does it feel good, baby?“

“Yes. Fuck!”

“Then just take it,” he rasps in your ear; sending chills down your spine. You feel your body relax; heart, pounding in your chest as you reach for air. JJ returns the water head to the base, cranking up the heat, pressing you into the wall once more as you continue to kiss, your ears ringing slightly, feeling the after-effects of your bliss.

“Fuck me?” You whimper, desperation laced in your tone. ”Please.“

“Anywhere, baby? Where do you want it?”

“Bed… Start here.”

“The bed? You sure? I’d hate to upset the Williams.” JJ reaches down, taking a grip on your thigh, looping it in his bicep, muscles flexing as he lifts you slightly.

“Just fuck me.” You tilt your forehead against his, the two of you watching as his long cock nears your warmth. “Shit,” you whine as he circles your sensitive clit with his velvety head, making him smirk. JJ moves a little lower, gliding through your folds, teasing your entrance with his tip.

”JJ. Please.“

“Please what?” He teases you again.

”Fuck me.“

“Baby…” He lets out a gravelly laugh. ”Beg harder.“ JJ swipes his head across your bud again making you gasp.

”JJ, can you please fuck me? Ple-“ He thrusts his cock into you, rutting up, breasts pressing against his chest as he steals your breath. JJ grabs your ass and picks you up swiftly causing you to sink deeper on his cock making you mewl onto his lips.

”Y/N,“ he moans.

“Yeah,” you stammer.

“I fucking love you.”

“I fucking love you, JJ.”

He pins you to the wall, leaning in, rutting quickly. His strokes are merciless, incredibly deep as you cling to his shoulders again. The hot water cascades down your body, increasing your pleasure as it flows between the two of you, the stimulation alone making you feel like you could climax.

“Ready?”

“Yeah,” you mumble against his lips.

JJ draws open the door, his cock still buried deep as he brings you to the bedroom. He’s sauntering, a slow stroll as you kiss at the perfect cadence. He sits down on the large mattress, letting you straddle his lap.

JJ adjusts slightly, his cock, reaching a different angle, making you suck in some air. You lift your body, rising up fully before spreading your thighs wide again. JJ grips your ass in his hands, following you as you move. “Fuck,” you whine, bottom lip quivering, as you feel him stretch you out.

JJ looks down watching where your bodies connect. A low moan releases from the back of his throat. “You’re so fuckin wet, Y/N. Holy shit.” You hook your hand behind his neck, leaning back slightly, changing the angle for a better view. Watching JJ’s thick cock glisten with essence.

Throwing your head back, you hit the perfect spot, feeling every curve and ridge as you push yourself further. JJ’s thumb presses against your throbbing clit rubbing circles on top causing your thighs to shake. ”Takin’ me so well, baby girl,“ he drawls. ”So fucking tight.“

”JJ…“ You sigh, feeling yourself about to cum again, head, pounding with your heart.

“Yeah? That’s the spot. Huh?”

“Y-Yeah,” you stutter, cock-drunk, thighs quivering uncontrollably, making you lose your rhythm.

“Let me, baby. Let me,” he groans.

JJ fucks into you, striking the perfect angle, making your muscles tense up. ”Shit… Right there, Jayj. You’re gonna make me cum.“

“Yeah? This pussy was made for me. Cum on my cock, Y/N…” Your orgasm rips through your body, pleasure hitting you harder than your first release. Toes curling as you’re sent into ecstasy. You lock down around him, JJ taking his cue; pounding into you at an even quicker pace.

Before you can come down, he picks you up; throwing you on the mattress, thrusting into you suddenly. The sounds of his skin clapping against yours echo through the large room. You let out a cry, far louder than intended, in a house that’s not your own, even if it’s empty. You cover your mouth with the back of your hand.

JJ quickly grabs your wrist, pulling it away from your mouth, shaking his head ‘no’ as he tacks it and the other against the plush mattress. “Never do that again,” he pants through a smile, punctuating each word with a thrust.

“Closer,” you beg. JJ leans in, pressing you against the bed, knees wide, striking deep inside, making your eyes slam shut. He loosens the grip on your wrist, fingers weaving into yours. Your mouth falls open, a mixture of pleasure and pain.

“Look at me, baby.”

You do, seeing every muscle at work, water still glistening on his tan skin, his blonde fringe, wet and messy.

“JJ…”

“Me too, Y/N. Fuck. Me too,” he moans. He drops a hand, pressing two fingers between your lips. You suck them roughly as you fight to keep your eyes open. JJ slips his hand low, his skilled fingers brushing fast.

”Yes! Just – Just like that. Fuck. JJ,“ you murmur. ”Oh shit-“ Your orgasm spills over, soaking his cock, wetting the sheets below. The sound of his strokes intensifies as he works you through your climax, stimulating your clit, brushing through spurts as he makes a mess of your thighs and his. ”That’s it… Good fuckin’ girl.“

His hips snap into you one last time, filling you with his warmth, toppling down on top of you. You can feel everything at this moment, his release and your own, the two of you glazed with sweat, soaked from the shower. You focus on the sound of his heartbeat, complementing your own; the way your body fits in his, JJ’s weight on top of yours.

“That was amazing,” he praises, kissing you sweetly.

“So good… So fucking good.”

#rafeyscurtainbangs library 📚#jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank smut #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #jj obx #outer banks #obx #jj outer banks #jj x reader #jj #jj maybanks #jj maybank x you #jj maybank x y/n

263 notes · View notes

literaryvein-reblogs · 2 days ago

Note

tips on writing physically disabled (wheelchair bound) characters?

Writing Notes: Characters Using a Wheelchair

"Wheelchair/wheelchair-bound/confined to a wheelchair"

People who use mobility equipment such as a wheelchair, scooter or cane consider the equipment part of their personal space, according to the United Spinal Association.

People who use wheelchairs have widely different disabilities and varying abilities.

National Center on Disability and Journalism Recommendation: It is acceptable to describe a person as “someone who uses a wheelchair,” followed by an explanation of why the equipment is required. Avoid “confined to a wheelchair” or “wheelchair-bound” as these terms describe a person only in relationship to a piece of equipment. The terms also are misleading, as wheelchairs can liberate people, allowing them to move about, and they are inaccurate, as people who use wheelchairs are not permanently confined to them but are transferred to sleep, sit in chairs, drive cars, etc.

Other terms to use: “wheelchair user” or “person who uses a wheelchair.”

Wheelchair

A chair with wheels to help people move around.

Used by individuals who have impairments that limit their ability to walk.

Typically consists of a seat supported on two large wheels attached towards the back of the seat and two small wheels (castors) in front near the feet, a good braking system, footrests and a cushion. There are often small additional features to prevent toppling or to assist in mounting curbs.

The user moves by pushing with his/her hands circular bars on the outside of the large wheels, known as the hand-rim or push rings.

Types of Wheelchairs

Based on variations in the basic design, there are many types of wheelchairs, with being highly customized to suit individual needs.

Manual wheelchairs are mostly propelled by the user. Other features such as foot/leg rests, front caster outriggers, adjustable backrests and controls can be added to the basic model. The seat size (width and depth), seat-to-floor height, seat angle (also called seat dump or squeeze) relative to the horizontal plane can be modified. Users who have specialized needs may opt for a custom-built wheelchair.

Attendant-propelled chairs are designed to be propelled by an attendant using the handles, and thus the back wheels are often rimless and smaller. These chairs are often used as ‘transfer chairs’ possibly within a hospital or airport to move a mobility-impaired person when a better alternative or a user’s standard chair is unavailable.

A rigid frame wheelchair is usually a non-folding type with a base of support on which the person sits. In some models, the backrest of the chair can be folded down, and the wheels have a quick release mechanism to enable easy transportation and storage.

A folding frame wheelchair is one whose frame is collapsible sideways by the use of an “X” mechanism in the frame. This mechanism is lockable, and the wheelchair folds on release of two locking levers on the chair.

A motorized wheelchair, power chair, electric wheelchair or electric-powered wheelchair is propelled by means of an electric motor rather than manual power. Motorized wheelchairs are useful for those unable to propel a manual wheelchair or who may need to use a wheelchair for distances or over terrain which would be fatiguing in a manual wheelchair. They may also be used by people with cardiovascular and fatigue-based conditions.

Interacting with People with Mobility Disabilities

Do not push or touch a person’s wheelchair/scooter without their permission – a wheelchair is part of the personal body space of the person.

Try to ensure there is space in your waiting room and your office for someone in a wheelchair or scooter to comfortably wait in their chair.

If you are speaking with a person who uses a wheelchair or a person who uses a mobility device for more than a few minutes, place yourself at eye level in front of the person to facilitate the conversation.

Writing about People with Disabilities

Words are powerful. The words we use and the way we portray individuals with disabilities matters. Below is a guide for portraying individuals with disabilities in a respectful and balanced way by using language that is accurate, neutral and objective.

Emphasize abilities, not limitations. Choosing language that emphasizes what people can do instead of what they can’t do is empowering.

Use language that emphasizes the need for accessibility rather than the presence of a disability. Examples: "Accessible" not "handicapped" parking; "Accessible" not "disabled" restroom

Portray successful people with disabilities in a balanced way, not as heroic or superhuman. Do not make assumptions by saying a person with a disability is heroic or inspiring because they are simply living their lives. Stereotypes may raise false expectations that everyone with a disability is or should be an inspiration. People may be inspired by them just as they may be inspired by anyone else. Everyone faces challenges in life.

Do not mention someone’s disability unless it is essential to the story It is okay to identify a person’s disability when it is necessary for clarity or provides important information. For instance, “Virali, who uses a wheelchair, spoke about her experience with using accessible transportation” is totally fine, since it adds a new layer to the story. In other instances, the disability may be irrelevant. For example, do not say, “Charles, who has a congenital disability, wants more sugar in his caramel espresso.”

Create balanced human-interest stories instead of tear-jerking stories. Tearjerkers about incurable diseases, congenital disabilities or severe injury that are intended to elicit pity perpetuate negative stereotypes.

In the 1990s, some health care and disability activists introduced the term “differently abled” as a substitute for the term “disabled.” While well-meaning, this term is euphemistic and works to avoid talking about a person’s disability in honest and specific terms (critics point out that in a pure dictionary definition, everyone is “differently abled”). Use of the term waned in the mid-2000s, and now many individuals in the disability community consider this term condescending or offensive.

Best Practices around Terminology for Disabilities

A foundational part of disability rights is using the right language and terminology to be respectful to members of the disability community. Here are a few best practices:

Avoid outdated terms. There are a number of terms for people with disabilities that are outdated, ableist, and potentially offensive to members of the disability community—terms include “differently abled” (and “the differently abled”), “handicapped”, “special needs” or “special education”, “wheelchair-bound” (as opposed to “is a wheelchair user”), and “cripple.” All of these terms have negative connotations, either because they serve as euphemisms or because they suggest that people with disabilities have a worse quality of life than people without; avoid these terms and replace them with more appropriate terms.

Consider how you describe nondisabled people. In addition to appropriate terms for people with disabilities, there are appropriate terms to use when describing people without disabilities. Avoid words like “normal,” “able,” “abled people,” or “able-bodied,” since these inappropriately suggest that those with disabilities are abnormal or do not have able bodies; instead, use language like “people without disabilities,” “nondisabled,” or “enabled.”

Learn whether to use “people-first” or “identity-first” language. Just as with any other group, people with disabilities are not a monolith. When talking about people with disabilities, remember that they are multifaceted human beings rather than an easily categorized group. To reflect this, opt to use person-first language whenever possible—for example, “a person with epilepsy” rather than “an epileptic person,” or “a person with blindness” rather than “a blind person”—to emphasize the individual and avoid letting their disability serve as their only defining quality. However, some communities prefer identity-first language over people-first language—for example, many people in the deaf community who use sign language prefer the term “deaf person” to the term “person who is hard of hearing,” and many people with autism prefer the term “autistic person.” Always use the individual’s preferred terms.

Refer to a person’s specific disability. Where relevant, avoid referring to people with disabilities as a homogenous group—the range of disabilities varies wildly, and individuals with disabilities have very different experiences depending on their condition and other factors. In addition, avoid the phrase “the disabled” and be careful when using broad terms like “cognitive disability” or “learning disability” when it would be more specific and appropriate to mention their exact condition. Instead, when discussing a person’s disability, use words that refer to their specific condition—for instance, as a person with ADHD—to respect their unique experience and needs.

Respect individual preferences. Individuals have different preferences when it comes to discussing their disabilities, and some people prefer particular terms over others—for example, many people with dwarfism prefer the term “person of short stature” or “little person.” Learn the individual preferences of the people around you to use their preferred terms.

Sources: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 ⚜ More: Writing Notes & References

Thanks for the question, learned some new things from these notes as well. Hope this helps with your writing!

EDIT

Ambulatory wheelchair users

Individuals who, despite having the ability to walk short distances, rely on wheelchairs for mobility due to various health conditions.

Can walk but need wheelchairs for longer distances or when experiencing fatigue. Conditions like multiple sclerosis, arthritis, or other mobility-impairing diseases often necessitate this dual mobility approach.

Many ambulatory wheelchair users report being judged, stigmatised or accused of faking their disabilities to cheat their way into support.

#writing notes #writing reference #writeblr #spilled ink #dark academia #fiction #creative writing #novel #light academia #literature #character development #writers on tumblr #writing prompt #writing tips #writing advice #writing resources

111 notes · View notes