#captain Boomerang x reader

[gilverrwrites]

Conjugal Visit

Captain Boomerang/F!Reader, 2.2K words

AN: I can't remember what inspired this, but it's just a cute, fluffy, smutty thing I've been working on between request and uni work.

Plot: Digger is rewarded for saving the entire world with a 1 hour conjugal visit. It's not much, but it will do. Rating: 18+

CWs: None really, its just fluffy smut! Very mild angst, swearing, unprotected sex, p in v sex, cunnilingus, woman on top.

Please remember: You are a super star!

He’s been sending you origami unicorns and gibberish-filled letters about his good behaviour for months, but the promised conjugal visit never came, at least not until after he’d saved Metropolis, and, well, the whole world, maybe even the universe from an alien invasion. 

When his figure popped up on the news, you’d know it was him straight away, even despite his zipping around like a bonafide speedster. 

Later, when Lois Lane showed clearer footage, had confirmed it was him your heart had thrum with pride. You’d told anyone who would listen “That’s my man! That’s my Digger, out saving the world!” You’d even texted articles to your family, to prove he wasn’t the layabout felon they’d always complained about. They didn’t need to know that he was part of some kind of suicide mission, only out there because the government considered his criminal(-ly cute) ass expendable. No, as far as you were concerned, he was a hero, who would save the world, and come home to your loving arms when he was done. At least that’s what you told yourself to help you sleep at night. 

The positivity paid off though. When Digger and his teammates had saved the freakin’ world, his leader, Waller had graciously offered him a few years of his impossibly long sentence and a whopping 3 hours with you. It was considerably less than standard but you weren’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Digger, however, was. His complaining had reduced his reward time to just one hour, and you were determined to make the most of it. 

As you approach the door, you eyed the various trays shelved next to it. Each one filled with different sizes and brands of condoms, all of which were too small for Digger, and you weren’t allowed to bring your own. Every finger and toe was crossed that the morning-after pill you’d pre-purchased would be enough. 

A straight-faced guard opens the door for you, you thank him as you step inside, disappointed to be the first one here. An ancient off-white plastic analogue clock on the wall loudly counts down each missed second as you wait for him, brushing your hair out with your fingers, sucking your teeth to make sure there are no remnants of breakfast stuck between them. When the door finally opens once more you have your skirt hiked up to your waist as you fiddle with your underwear. It wasn’t the comfiest, but it was Digger's favourite. 

Your efforts don’t go unnoticed, your jailbird boyfriend’s eyes are bulging as he takes in your form for the first time in too long. Your heart races as you do the same to him, suddenly feeling both coy and unstable as you examine the way his uniform hangs from his lean body. God you can’t wait to get those off him. 

From the excited look on his face, he was having similar thoughts about your outfit. You release the hem of your skirt, but before the fabric can even flutter back against your skin, Digger has you in his arms, using all his muscle to lift you up high by your thighs, head nuzzled against your stomach as he spins you around. 

“I’ve missed ya so much, you’ve got no idea. I can’t believe you’re really here. The real you, not just your pictures stuck above me bed.” He blurts all the things he’s wanted to say but couldn’t convey until now. “I stare at you every night, been dreamin’ bout this moment.” 

“I missed you too baby. Now kiss me, kiss me, kiss me!” You jiggle your weight until he begins to lower you. 

“Don’t have to tell me.” He chuckles, situating you at hip height, putting your faces in closer proximity, allowing you to wrap your legs around his waist, as you lock lips with him. He tastes like mouthwash, which was not unwelcome, but strange. Certainly different to the stale beer you were accustomed to. Regardless, Digger didn’t miss a beat, slipping his tongue into your mouth and kissing you with so much enthusiasm it made you miss him again already. 

The way he smiles into your kiss nearly makes you pull away to giggle. The way his calloused fingers tickle your skin as he snakes a hand up to cup your ass does make you throw your head back and laugh out loud. 

“That tickles! Stop!” 

“Nah, I’ve missed this sound too much.” He doesn’t stop, now deliberately tickling both your hips as you begin weakly hitting his shoulder. “You know what else I’ve missed the sound of?” 

You squeal as he releases you all at once, throwing your body onto the bed.

“That!”

You sit up on the bed, arms crossed as you wait for him to stop laughing at you. The bed itself is old, the springs of the mattress creak under every move, and the comforter is itchy as hell, but it will have to do. 

“I should be mad at you for that, but I’ll forgive you this once 'cause I missed you so much.” Leaning back, you spread your legs, revealing your underwear and offering him a come-hither look. 

He looks like a fox in a henhouse, pointy grin, big eyes, and it makes your pussy tingle with excitement. 

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you, Love, but I sure as shit am lucky.” His shirt and trousers are gone before he lands above you. Long fingers lock onto you, clumsily helping you undress until all that’s left is Diggers crew socks. He never takes them off for sex, ‘extra grip for when I’m givin’ it to ya real hard’, so you don’t bother trying to get them off him. 

“Digger, you’re a hero!” You argue between sloppy kisses. “Even if you weren’t, you still deserve good things.” 

“Yeah…” For a moment he looks at you, really looks at you, without the lust or the laughter. It might have felt scrutinising if you thought for a second that he knew what that word meant. “But you loved me before, an’ I really didn't deserve you then.” 

Before you can respond he’s slinking down your body, fingers pushing against your entrance and making you squirm. 

“You’re so wet already, you miss being all filled up by your old man aye? Bet you’ve been feeling so empty. I’m sorry I got me-self locked up. Sorry I left you so high and dry.” He slips one finger in, cupping your pussy, pressing down on your clit with his thumb. He hadn’t always known your body so well, but you’d spent so many nights wrapped up in each other that it was second nature now. 

“Don’t…” you try to speak between deep breaths. “Don’t be sorry, make it up to me.” 

No need to ask twice, in seconds he sucking on your clit and slipping a second finger inside. His crooked nose nestled against your pelvis area, mutton shops scratchy between your thigh as he begins to lap at your core. When he skims your sweet spot at just the right angle you whimper, tugging at his russet hair, which in turn causes him to let out a deep moan that reverberates against you. 

You whine and squirm against the wobbly bed as he continues, the fire in your belly building as duel licking and fucking pushes you closer to the edge. He hits that hot spot inside, and you instinctively wrap your legs around his head. With your orgasm in sight, Digger picks up his pace, slipping in a third finger as he concentrates his efforts on your clit. 

Reflexively, your back arches and your toes curl as your orgasm hits. Your hips roll, searching for more friction and Digger uses his free hand to press on your stomach, holding you in place until you come back down. 

“Ah, crikey. You taste just as sweet as I remember.” He comments as he comes back up, face gleaming with a mix of cum and saliva. “I missed that.” 

Before you can respond he places a wet kiss on your belly button. “An’ I missed this.”

Your sternum. “An’ this.”

“An’ definitely these.” He cups both of your breasts as he lowers himself and begins to rub his face between your cleavage. Green eyes peer up at you full of cheek when you grip his hair and tilt his head to look at you. “What?”

“We're on a time constraint, you wanna spend it all in there?” He purses his lips playfully, looking back and forth between you and your boobs as he pretends to consider the question. 

“I could die happy here.” To emphasise his point, he burrows between them once more before conceding. His cock bobs from side to side as he sits back, shimming his hips. “But we wouldn’t want Digger Jr to miss out on all the fun.” 

“Agreed! Let’s put him to use.” His hips feel pointed in your grip as you grab them, dragging him between your spread legs again. He runs the tip between your lips, teasing your clit and coating himself in your slick. When you feel his head at your entrance, your muscles tighten, trying to draw him in further.

This is the part you’d been craving and dreading. Even when you’d been sleeping together routinely, ‘Jr’ was too big to slide in with ease. The burn of your walls struggling to stretch around him makes your breathing uneven, the lubrication of your earlier climax doing little to ease the process. 

“Hey, hey, relax now, breathe.” Digger coos, leaning in close and cupping your cheek, reminding you that keeping calm is the best way to get through it. You nod, even though your body is in overdrive, you will yourself to relax, steadying your breathing and he gradually works his way into you. “That’s it, Darl’, let me into that tight little snatch.”

“Ew, Digger!” You groan and laugh at his atrocious word choice, but it works. It distracted you enough for him to bottom out. Smugly, he wiggles his bows and his cock at the same time, the motion making you pant and squirm, needing real friction. 

“On your back Harkness.” You order.

“Yes ma'am.” Hands gripping your hips he does the heavy lifting, flipping your bodies until he lays flat on his back, and you hover above him.

Comfortable, you waste no time bouncing on his lap, gripping his shoulders for support as you roll your hips up and down. “Fuck, Digger, that feels so good.”

“Oh yeah.” He agrees between gritted teeth, his hands reaching up to cup your tits, his hips jerking up to meet your thrusts. “This is so much better than jerking off to your photies every night. Nothin’ beats the real thing.” 

The more you rock together, the more he crumbles, face scrunching, hands abruptly grabbing at whatever skin he can reach, no longer just occupied with your breasts. 

“Shit Digger, your dick is the best.” You praise and you can tell from his pink cheeks and rapid movements that he’s on the brink. 

“Fuck. Touch yourself, touch yourself, touch yourself.” He begs, wanting you to cum but too lost to do it himself. You dip your finger between your legs, circling your clit with firm, circular motions, causing tension to quickly coil in your gut, but it's not enough. “Fuck, woman, hurry up and cum.”

“Impatient.” You scold, purposely pumping your body in fast, deep motions to aid Digger's climax.

“Can’t help it.” He whispers quickly, desperately. “You feel too good.” 

He’s a beautiful withering mess beneath you, gleaming under a layer of sweat. All sharp edges and soft freckled skin. Eager to put him out of his misery you press harder at your clit, rubbing as fast as you can muster until you can’t help throwing your head back, panting as you approach your peak, and Digger is right there with you, gripping you with bruising force as he finally lets himself release. Pleasure seeps through your body as you ride out your orgasms together, Digger grunting with every spurt of cum he releases inside of you. 

“Wow.” You pant, as you relax, collapsing onto his Digger's chest. “I missed that.” 

When he’s recovered enough, Digger wraps his arms around you in return, pulling you closer for a deeper hug. “We’ve still got it.”

“Still got it.” You concede. Sex with Digger is always good, but the come down, the cuddling and the pillow talk is comforting. As much as you want to, you can’t fall asleep in his arms, can’t have a thumb war over who has to go get snacks, can’t stay up all night talking about that guy you hate from work, or Digger’s latest heist plans. “I just wish we had more time to talk. I want to hear everything.” 

In sync, both your heads turn. Yours to the clock, Diggers to you. 

“Not much time, is it?” He probes, you know he can only read digital.

“No, just a little under 10 minutes.” Determined not to let your limited time together get you down, and feeling Digger’s cock already growing hard inside you once more, you offer; “Think we can squeeze in another quick?” 

“Don’t need to be quick, don’t care what they do to me.” Digger flips you over, his turn on top. “They’re gonna need one of them giant magnet thingys to pry me off of you, Love.” 

Request Info || Prompts || DC Masterlist || Ko-Fi

[lanae111]

When he’s a red flag but you need him

[gamingdreamland]

I think we all need more Boomerang in our lives :3

[nobitchs-world]

If you’re gonna make a smut fic please specify which sexual acts that will be in it I don’t want to be surprised attacked by a nigga getting his butt fingered

[riddled-with-fear]

Hi! It’s Catie from Ao3. I’m so glad I found your tumblr because the Boomerang brainrot is like diabolical.

Literally only bought SSKTJL for the dear Captain. I don’t know if this is like too vague for a request but his nose in that game is so incredibly attractive. I don’t think I have words that describe how badly I want him and his nose specifically lol

And of course I hope you’re having an amazing day!! 💜💜

Omg giving you a forehead kiss because LITERALLY! this is such a good ask for him🙂‍↕️🫶🏻

Thank you for your patience as I got this written! I hope you enjoy!<3

NSFW under the cut!

Down Under

Summary: Digger has been frustrating you, and you can’t seem to get him out of your thoughts, or more specifically, you can’t seem to get his nose out of your mind.

CW: NSFW! Mutual pining, Stubborn Digger, Face sitting, oral(Fem receiving), male masturbation.

The day had already started off a bit frustrating. Waller had called for an early morning meeting with Task Force X, Harley had been talking your ear off all morning, Deadshot was being an irritating asshole, King Shark was asking questions every five minutes during Waller’s meeting, and Digger… Well Digger was frustrating you in another way.

Digger had been the last member of Task Force X to walk into the room for a debriefing. You couldn’t help but eye him up. You stared at the way his Strawberry Blond hair peeked out of his blue beanie. You couldn’t help but stare at his green eyes, at the freckles that dusted his face… and… his nose. His strong, sloped nose.

God his nose would be so perfect to-

“See somethin’ ya like there, Sheila?” Digger interrupted your thoughts.

You felt your face heat up in shame. You quickly turned away from his gaze and heard him chuckle to himself. You quickly assumed position by Waller as she wrapped up the meeting.

“Keep an eye on these four, you’ll be overseeing them for the next Twenty-Four hours.” Waller stated.

You nodded your head, and sighed once she was well out of ear shot from you.

Great. You groan internally.

You busied yourself with cleaning up the files, and gathering up the rest of the tech left behind by Waller. You stuffed electric cables into a black computer bag, and carefully placed an A.R.G.U.S issued laptop inside the bigger compartment.

Digger bounced up to you, clasping his gloved hands together and whistled. Trying to, but failing, at being nonchalant.

“What do you need Harkness?” You quickly zipped the bag up.

“Awh, nothin’ really…” he gave you a goofy grin.

You only cocked an eyebrow in response. You looked around the room and noticed the other three had left already.

“Don’t you have a mission to get ready for?” You slung the bag over your shoulder and brushed passed Digger, ready to leave the room yourself.

“Well, I’ve got some time ta’ kill. I reckon you wanna tell me what you were lookin’ at earlier?”

You stopped mid-step. Your face flushed, your heart began to pound. “I… uh, it was nothing. Just focus on your mission.” You resumed walking.

Digger rushed past you, blocking the doorway. He leaned on one arm and crossed his legs at the ankles.

“I know I’m a looker! Ain’t nothin’ I ‘aven’t been told before!” He winked at you.

You rolled your eyes at his arrogant comment. “Move, Harkness. I’ve gotta make sure everything, you four included, is in order for this mission.”

You tried squeezing past him, but he didn’t budge.

“Ah, ah, ah, what’s the magic word?”

“Uh, move or I’ll kick your ass?”

“Oh, you wound me!” Digger feigned pain as he playfully grabbed his chest.

You loudly sighed, “Digger, I’m serious.”

“A’right, A’right. I’ll let ya through.”

“Thank you.” You began to move forward.

“Only on one condition.”

You groaned. “Fine. What is it?”

“Tell me what had ya starin’.”

You pressed your lips into a thin line, “Anything else besides that.”

“Nope! I’ll stand ‘ere all day if I gotta. An’ I’m quite stubborn ask anyone!” Pride washed over Digger’s face.

You looked around for any curious ears before you looked back to Digger. You took a deep breath, “I was staring at… you. Your… nose really.” You looked down to your boots too ashamed to make eye contact with Digger.

Digger’s eyes widened at your confession. His sun-kissed cheeks turned rosy. Digger would never confess, but your admission had him self-conscious.

“Oi, erm, what about it!” He reached a gloved hand to cover his nose.

You closed your eyes, as if he would magically disappear. Hoping he would disappear. “I… I like it. It’s-you’re- handsome. I just.. I don’t know. I was admiring it.”

Digger’s hand slowly fell to his side. He opened his mouth to speak, but was at a loss for words. He stared at you, wishing you’d look at him.

As if you read his mind, you opened your eyes to be met with an already staring Digger. “Sorry… that’s weird, right? Yes. Well! Let’s focus on this mission.”

Digger still didn’t say anything. Instead, he grabbed your face and pressed his lips to yours.

Your eyes went wide, your body went rigid. A million thoughts raced in your mind. You pushed all of your thoughts out, and only focused on the kiss. A kiss in which you leaned into. You closed your eyes, wrapped your arms around Digger’s neck, and kissed him back.

Digger pulled away much to your chagrin.

“Whaddaya say we get out o’ere? We got some time ta’ kill.” He pressed his forehead to yours.

“Oh.. uh, yeah. Yes! Sure, let’s get out of here.” Lust laced your voice.

Digger led you to his room, the two of you sneaking past other A.R.G.U.S guards, and especially Waller. Digger quietly opened the door and led you inside where he promptly shut and locked the door.

Digger turned back around to face you, and continued the kiss you both shared in the meeting room. Each passing second your shared kiss became more heated.

Digger started undressing by removing his beanie first, freeing his mussed up Strawberry Blond hair. He broke the kiss to remove his red scarf, and immediately pressed his lips to yours once more. He bit your lower lip lightly causing you to open your mouth in surprise. He took the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth. You greedily accepted.

Digger shrugged off his tan leather coat, and broke the kiss once more. He took off his shirt exposing his tattooed-covered torso. He helped you out of your shirt, and walked you over to his bed where he pushed you down onto.

“Tell me to stop an’ I will.” He kicked off his shoes, undid his belt, and slipped out of his pants.

“I don’t want you to stop. Please, don’t stop.” You followed suit in removing your boots and pants.

With both of you down to just your underwear, he climbed on top, adjusting you under him. “Let’s get these off of ya’!” He grabbed the waistband of your underwear and yanked them off while you undid your bra.

Digger let out a low whistle at your nude body.

He hoisted you up, gripping the back of your thighs, just under your ass, guiding you atop him as he laid down.

“C’mon Love, sit on me face.” Digger hungrily begged you.

“Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been so sure.” He manipulated you above him, straining his neck upwards, and licked a long, hot, stripe up your soaked cunt before forcing you to settle down on his face.

You made contact with Digger’s mouth, your clit making contact with the tip of his nose. You moaned at the pressure his nose gave you. You instinctively rocked your hips, gaining more friction as he tongue-fucked you.

His grip loosened, his hands slowly trailed up the back of your thighs until his hands reached your ass. He tightened his grip as his tongue greedily lapped up your arousal. His nose pressed perfectly into your throbbing clit. With the way Digger’s iron grip grasped you, you couldn’t move your hips like you wanted. You had to be patient and get your pleasure solely through Digger.

He moved his head back and forth as he fervently licked your folds, his nose rubbing, just right, into your swollen clit. You let out sweet moans and soft whimpers above him, which passed through Digger’s ears, going straight to his cock. He had never been so painfully hard.

Digger’s grip went slack, and you seized the opportunity. You gripped the sides of his head and began rocking back and forth on his face, grinding yourself harsher into his nose.

This time he let you, using his now free hands to take out his stiff and leaky cock from his constricting boxers. He spread his pre-cum over his shaft before pumping himself into his hands.

His moans were stifled under you, you just barely heard them. The lewd slicking sound of his cock fucking into his hands filled your ears pushing you closer to the edge. You continued rocking your hips in tandem with his tongue lapping into you, Digger continued fucking into his hand.

“Oh-fuck!- Digger I’m so close!” The hot coil behind your navel wound impossibly tight, ready to snap.

He lowly hummed in approval, licking you quicker, and picking up the pace in which he stroked himself.

You braced your hands above his head as you rocked your hips for the final time, “God, Harkness! I’m gonna cum!”

Digger nodded under you, moaning as his own orgasm approached him, coating his hand and his lower abdomen in his own spend.

You came right after, moaning in ecstasy. You sat still, trying to regain composure. You took a deep breath and sighed in relief before remembering you were still sat on Digger’s face.

“Oh, shit! Sorry Harkness.” You rolled off of him and laid by his side, still panting, still sweating, your cunt still fluttering around nothing.

“S’okay, Love. I’d have you sit on me face forever if I could.” He heavily breathed out, his face glistening with your slick, his hand still holding his softening cock.

“That was… wow.” You stared at his ceiling.

“Make that two ways I’m yer Captain from Down Unda’!” Digger chuckled at his own joke.

You rolled your eyes and playfully groaned at his horrendous sense of humor. “As much as I’d love to stay like this, I’ve gotta check in on the other three and Waller.” You got up and made yourself decent.

“Right. Erm, maybe next time we can have a proper root?”

“Next time?” You raised your eyebrows.

Digger scratched his head, “yeh… next time.”

“Ok,” you smiled, “next time.”

[finniestoncrane]

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.

[rodolfoparras]

Brb, putting Digger in a Boomerang-shaped chastity cage to boost that humiliation kink he's just discovered

-💀

Digger would absolutely love the idea at first, all hot and bothered at the thought of his big fat cock trapped in a cock cage, unable to touch himself, or just wearing it while out and about in public, maybe even opting to go without boxers just so the little contraption is clearly shown through his prison uniform, proudly smiling at anyone looking down at his crotch.

However as soon as it’s actually on and he’s unable to touch his dick, he’s over this little fantasy, especially when you go out your way to tease him, groping and rubbing up against him til he’s begging and pleading for you to take the cage off of him, speaking to him in the way that usually has blood rushing down to his dick, telling him how a slut like him shouldn’t mind that his cock is locked up, he doesn’t even know how to use that thing at all, riling him up so much til there’s nothing left to do but show him mercy by pounding into his ass and through your laughter asking him how a greedy slut like him fails to reach his orgasm, knowing fully well it’s because of the little mechanism.

He’d most likely try to find ways to break out of it, getting so frustrated he sneaks away, pants pulled down his legs and thighs parted; ready to take any weapon at hand to the cock cage and if you were to catch him in the act he wouldn’t even care, he’d just smile at you, face flushed from exhaustion, body drenched in sweat, cock finally free, fully hard and weeping and eagerly waiting for you to punish him

[creepling]

⋆.˚☀︎٠ ࣪⭑ A KNOCK AWAY

synopsis: returning packages and a broken washing machine lead you to spend the night with your hot neighbour, digger harkness.

tags: smut - minors dni. fem!reader. age difference (early 20s x late 30s). domestic elements. reader described as "shy" but not really. sexual tension. alcohol use. drinking games. awkward moments. oral (f receiving). couch sex. big dick (it's canon it's out of my control!!!). p in v. creampie. 4.4k words.

Your neighbour had a habit of ordering ludicrous amounts of packages but is never at home to collect them. It was almost every day they arrived and piled at your front door. The last few days you’ve knocked on his door to give them, but met by silence. Your small apartment is running out of room if any more decide to show up. You had been going in the afternoons once you came off work, but he either didn’t answer or wasn’t in. This time, on Saturday morning, you decided to knock on his door. Who cares if it’s the weekend, or it’s too early, you were determined to get those packages out of your house.

You knock gently at first and wait for a minute. No answer. A week. A whole week of this bullshit. Impatience clouds your sympathy, and you knock on the door harder. You hear a thud, a clank of glass, and a curse on the other side of the door. You knock again, calling up a groan of annoyance and an “I’m coming!”

The door opens, and you’re greeted by your neighbour for the first time since you moved here. He is shirtless, showing off a collection of tattoos. His mop of hair hadn’t met a comb yet; still scuffled by sleep. You could tell he was older, and you were taken aback by how attractive he was. Given in a rugged way. You half-expected a balding divorcee with a beer belly.

“You’re George, right? I live next door,” You introduce.

Eyes squint and bloodshot, he looks you up and down before nodding. “You know what time it is, sunshine? Too bloody early to be knocking on people’s doors.” He said, fighting through a hangover to communicate. The twang of an Aussie accent was the second thing to surprise you. Even with the twang of annoyance in his tone, you bite your cheek to fight off a flattered smile.

Your bashfulness forces you to ditch the defiant speech you prepared. “I’m aware of that- but I’ve tried to get a hold of you all week, but you seem to not be in during the afternoon.” You shuffle to your open door, grab one of the packages and gesture it to George, “There’s a ton of packages here for you.”

George’s annoyed face began to soften, and he let out an idle chuckle. “Shiiiiit, I forgot about those!”

He opened his door wider and began collecting the parcels from you. You got a peek inside his apartment. Your suspicions of his home were accurate, resembling what all men living alone succumb themself to; their own squaller.

“Thanks for holding onto them for me. And sorry for being cranky, hangovers, y’know?” George said, his tone now different, one more pleasant. You smile, feeling pleased that you have the chance to converse with a neighbour and know who lives next door.

“Hope you had a good night so it’s worth it,” you chuckle, taking a stack of the packages and shuffling to his door. George takes them from your hands swiftly. This left you standing by his door, looking around the living room, stumped on the small talk. You were never really good at this.

“I mean- it was alright. They just hit you more when you get older,” he dropped the remaining boxes by his door, rubbing his temples as he stretched. His abdomen extended, shifting the waistband of his pants, making you look away and stand in silence. George scratches the back of his neck as he looks at you, feeling the interaction fade to a farewell.

“I better get going, you’ve got a lot to unbox,” you say, slowly backing away.

George gets to the door, nodding and shooting you a smile. “Thanks again for keeping them safe.” You could have sworn he looked you up and down, in a different way this time. Sizing you up, for other means. Maybe it was your imagination.

You meekly wave before retreating to your apartment. With the packages gone, your eyes adjust to the clear space, and the lingering images of your neighbour hot in your thoughts.

The washing machine was stuck again, and no matter how hard you hit it, it was still broken. Today is not going well, and you were on the edge, especially since the only other machine in the block has an ‘out of order’ sign on it. You rub your hands along your face, the skin already flushed from anger. A shuffle of footsteps approaches the entrance, and you reveal yourself to see who is witnessing your self-pity.

“Useless fucking thing, ain’t it?” It was George, the first time you’ve seen him in clothes that weren’t pyjama pants with socks and slides. He looks like he’s back from work, or the gym, it is hard to tell. You did wonder what he did for a living.

“I’m lucky it broke before I put my laundry in,” You look at the bright side with heavy eyes and a half-assed smile.

“Well, I don’t wanna brag, but I do have a machine. Wouldn’t mind ya using it until they fix it,” George shrugs with a ‘no big deal’ attitude. Suddenly your neighbour was a beacon of hope, and the stress left you with a sigh of relief.

“That would be really helpful, thanks,” you pick up your laundry basket, following up the stairs. He hunched the duffle bags over his shoulder. Reaching the top of the stairs, he unlocks his front door and lets you in first, taking a look at his living room and huffing. “Sorry about the mess.”

Beer bottles and cans littering the coffee table, clothes on the floor or hanging from the couch and chairs. You take one breath and smell the stale air, keeping a straight face. “It’s okay,” You smile through it, not wanting to place judgment. Maybe he’s just a busy guy.

George quickly shows you the settings on the machine (which he wasn’t so sure about) before excusing himself to the shower. Before you could ask questions, he was dashing to the bathroom, leaving you to your own devices. You load the machine, press the button and hope for the best.

Alone in his apartment was daunting and you begin to explore. Mostly focused on the messiness, the environment nagging at your senses. Clean space, clean mind, as they say. You pick up the trash and throw it out, starting with the beer cans. Luckily you didn’t find anything too disgusting, with the odd dirty plate you could place in the sink. You open the curtains, coughing from the dust and open the window to release the smell of stale pizza and beer. Your mind is clearer, you go to wash your hands until you spot George standing by the entrance of the living room in awe. He is still in his towel, his right hand clenching the side to keep it in place, his hair wet and slicked back. You turn away immediately, looking anywhere but him, a kick of adrenaline overtaking your insides.

“Wasn’t aware I ordered room service,” he joked, amused by your embarrassment.

“I’m sorry- I should have just left and come back later for the laundry. But- I don’t know- your place looked like it needed a tidy-up. I can’t help myself, it’s a habit. God- I’m so stupid-”

“Don’t get your undies in a twist, it’s fine. I appreciate it,” George reassures, rubbing the back of his neck, “As you can see, I don’t get many visitors.”

When he closes the bedroom door to change, it’s safe for you to look again. That feeling in your stomach didn’t go away, it still brewed in the pit and crawled its way up your core. It makes you think about him again, like those sleepless nights after your first encounter, and your cheeks grow hot. Maybe this is a good time to slip out and avoid him like the plague. But what else would you be doing? Watching TV? Playing video games? All alone in your apartment, like you always are. That’s how your life has been, work, home, bed; absent of social life, of anything remotely adventurous. You keep your feet firmly on the ground, chewing your lip in thought. There was a time when you lived life on the edge, out every weekend, hooked up with people. Letting your old self come out to play wouldn’t be so bad, would it?

“Where do you keep your cleaning supplies? I could do the rest for you if you want,” you call, inching towards the bedroom door so he can hear you. He opens the door quickly, startling you, wearing casual grey sweatpants and a white tee.

“Are you like a freelance maid or something? This how you get clients?” He leaned an arm on the door frame, looking down at you. He becomes the only thing in eyesight and you freeze, giving a shy smile.

“No, I just like cleaning, that's all. You seem like you need it, being a busy guy and all.” You study his eyes, wondering if he sees right through you.

George slowly nods, then snaps his fingers, heading towards the front door and sliding his shoes on. “Tell you what, love. I have to run a few errands, while I’m out I’ll leave you to it.”

You frown, crossing your arms. “You’re just gonna leave me, your neighbour you’ve met like once, in your house alone? You trust me like that?”

He shrugs, taking one of the duffle bags full of… something. “I’ve got many weapons I can pull on you if you try anything. Plus, you’re young and don’t look that strong, so I think I can take you on.” You weren’t sure if he was joking, but there was a cheeky look in his eye that allowed you to chuckle.

“That would do it. You can trust me.”

George gives a little salute, exiting the door. “Stuff’s under the kitchen sink. Good luck!”

You look at his limited supply, an empty bottle of bleach and a mysterious liquid in a spray bottle. You decide to use your supplies, grab them from your apartment, and come back to start the work.

You collapse on the couch gasping for air. People underestimate how much energy it takes to clean, especially when cleaning George’s house. Within an hour you cleaned the living room and kitchen and hung up your laundry to dry in your apartment. The worst part was the vacuuming, as like not owning cleaning supplies, he also didn’t have a vacuum. Go figure.

George eventually returned, greeted by your efforts and your limp body sprawled on his couch. You quickly got up, hoping he didn’t mind. Heck, this guy doesn’t have a vacuum, he can’t be the judge. “So, what do you think?” You anticipate.

“You did a bloody good job, I’ll tell ya that,” a smile on his face, making you smile too. “And since ya the best neighbour on this side of Metropolis, I got ya a lil payment to say thanks.”

George pulls out a crate of beers and takeaway pizza, presenting them to you. Your eyebrows knit in confusion, but you smile at the thought. “Thanks, George.”

“Please, call me Digger, everyone calls me that,” he said, “Thought we could have a couple of beers and I’d feed ya, but I’m no chef, hence the pizza.”

“So, Digger… is this you inviting me over for dinner?” You ask, pursing your lips. He thought about it and then nodded his head. “I guess I am,” he smirks.

Pizza crusts and beer cans decorate the coffee table, the television musing low music. You laugh at a joke Digger told you, hiding your mouth to not spit all over the place. He sits low on the couch, his hands resting between his legs with a beer. With your legs close to your chest, you take a sip of beer when a silence falls between you.

“Thanks for having me, I’m having a lovely time.” You confess, a little tipsy. You get shy admitting that, focusing on the music, unaware of Digger’s eyes not leaving your sight.

“I didn’t have a college kid cleaning my house on my bingo card,” he muses teasingly, smirking at your bashful smile.

“I am not a college kid! I graduated ages ago.”

“And by ages ago you mean in the last five years?”

He chuckles at your look of defeat. “Says the guy who’s five years off getting a pension,” you tease in defence.

“I’m not that old!” He defended back, “Nowhere near it!”

“Well, you’re at least old enough to clean your own house and have a vacuum.”

“You got me there…” he says into his beer.

The silence fell between you once again, but surprisingly it was not awkward. The air was thick, and not with stale air like before. You convince yourself it’s one-sided, keeping yourself together. You had an idea, but it was juvenile. When he doesn't say anything to keep the conversation going, you go on and suggest it.

“How about we play truth or drink?”

“How old are you? Five?” He scoffs.

“We already established my age, remember? C’mon, it’ll be a good icebreaker. Don’t you wanna get to know your friendly neighbour?” You nudge his arm playfully, realising you’ve been going that a lot since you had a drink. Mostly when he told a joke. You try not to cringe, realising your inferiority. He probably thinks you’re immature, and you suddenly see yourself as a fool. But when he turns his body towards you, giving you his full attention while cracking open another beer, you feel a little better about yourself.

“Who’s asking first?” He asks.

You volunteered since you suggested playing. You turn towards him, fighting through a fit of giggles, liking the way his eyes smile at you. He has nice eyes, light in colour, a mix of blue and grey with crow's feet winging the sides.

“Okay, let’s start easy. How long have you lived on the block?” You ask.

“‘Bout five months, I’d say,” he says.

“Do you move around a lot?”

“Oi, thought you ask one question at a time?”

“Yeah, sorry. Just curious,” you dart your eyes to his smirking lips before looking away.

“To answer your other question, I do move around a bit. It’s a job thing.”

You look back at him, catching his stare, the one that never seems to fade from you. You like the way he stares at you, so attentive like he refuses to have you out of his sight. It’s the type of stare that makes someone feel special.

“My turn,” he chirps, “are you always this shy around people?”

“What? I’m not shy,” you scoff.

“Really? You’re not shy?”

“What happened to starting easy?”

“No, you said that. I didn’t. I never start easy,” he says haughtily.

You roll your eyes, taking the beer can to your lips and taking a sip. Digger scoffs in shock, “No way are you drinking to that.”

“It’s a ridiculous question, plus I technically did answer the question. I’m not shy.”

Digger shakes his head in disappointment, breaking eye contact to chuckle into his hand. You narrow your eyes, readying the next question.

“Do you have a wife and kids?” You ask.

Digger didn’t act like you struck a nerve, but he wasn’t laughing anymore. He shook his head, and you take that as an answer, not wanting to press further. Yet, he begins to speak, in a tone softer than the one you’ve been getting used to;

“I know at my age I probably should, but it’s never worked out, y’know? The whole love thing I’ve never gotten the hang of.”

You resonate with him, meekly returning a smile. “Me either.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Digger said.

“Really?”

“Yeah, you’re good-looking. Woulda bet somebody snagged ya by now.”

You can’t help but chuckle, hearing how wrong his words are. “I guess I’ve gotten close before, but it was never meant to be.”

Digger nods in agreement like he is in the same boat. You had a strong urge to move closer to him, but resort to fidgeting with a thread on the coach. “Who’s turn is it?”

“Mine,” Digger returns his gaze to you. It was more intense, and you feel him all over you. As you grow the courage to meet his eyes, you see them trailing from your lips to meet you, his icy eyes darkening and lips parting as he readies his words.

“How would you feel about kissing me?”

Your stillness speaks volumes to him, and from the look of shock in your eyes, Digger’s smile fades and turns sour. He hides his face in his hands, cursing under his breath.

“Fuck- Just drink to that, it was bloody stupid,” his self-depreciation eats at you and you try and find the words to explain yourself. He was right, you were shy, and it got in the way of your feelings. So much for being the big flirt like you planned.

“No, it’s fine, honestly-”

He cuts you off, “I just thought- why else would wanna hang out with an old fuck like me? Keep my packages, clean my house,” he groans out a sigh, “and the way you look at me, fuck, it’s been driving me insane all day.”

“Digger-” you catch his attention, softening your face, and placing your beer on the coffee table. You shift your body closer to his, your movement swift but gentle. “I’d like it if you kissed me.”

He blinks, adjusting his eyes to the proximity, noticing the small details of your features, the softness of your lips. He swallows back his nerves, “Nah- you’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

There is only one way to prove him wrong, and you did it by making the first move. You press your lips against him, and you're struck with his immediate touch as he engulfs you in his arms. Your hands snake up his chest to the back of his neck, deepening the kiss as he beckons you to press your body against him with his firm hold. He grins into the kiss at the sound of your whimpers, holding the small of your waist and guiding you to his lap. You go with the motion, swinging your leg around and straddling him, enamoured by the hold he has on you. The makeout was sloppy, tipsy on beer and getting more drunk on each other’s lips. Digger’s kisses were firm and deep, his chapped lips coated in your sweet spot as he glided his tongue along yours. His hands lay haven on your asses, rubbing his callous palm around the fabric of your pants, enchanting your hips to move ever so slightly.

“Ain’t so shy now, are ya?” He grunts into your ear, migrating his lips down your neck, sucking and nibbling on your faint skin. You see stars, closing your eyes in bliss, your fingers tugging at his shirt and fighting off the urge to rip it off. He takes the time to remove his t-shirt with your eager assistance, latching onto you once you discard it.

“Please, I need you,” you plead. You gaze down at him, your stare both close and far. His bucking hips invite your crotch to feel his length, the tip of his bulge grinding against your thigh.

He whispers to you, “Tell me what you want.”

 “Use me, I know you want to,” you taunt, enjoying the light that ignites in his eyes, his grip tighter on your skin.

“You’ll regret saying that, but I bet you can handle it,” he jesters, pulling your hair to expose your neck, his lips latching back onto your sweet skin. His other hand pushes your top over your breasts, exposing your hardening nipples. Licking towards your nipples, sucking on them gently and cupping your tits in his hands, grazing his teeth when you grind down on his erection.

Digger, hungry for more of you, lays you down on the couch. His eyes demand your attention, taking time to pull down your pants and underwear, drenched in your arousal. He lowers his head to your cunt, prying your legs open as you try to hide how wet you were.

“Don’t hide from me, love, show me how pretty you are,” he muses, admiring your glistening walls, lapping them tenderly with the tip of his fingers. Relishing in your squirms, he gazes at you under his lashes. “Fuck, you’re drenched.”

Your hands grip his hair when his tongue makes contact with your sensitive walls, his prominent nose snug on your clit as he eats you out. His movements are deep and steady, keeping himself in place between your quivering thighs, refusing to come up for breath as a rising feeling of release fills your insides. Shifting his tongue from your walls to your clit, his nose taking place not to neglect your pleasure, his eyes checking your reactions as his pride swelled from your raptured state. He takes a breath to tease you in between, his hoarse voice wavering against your heat, “Look at you, getting so worked up for me.”

“’m so close,” that was music to Digger’s ears, egging him on to keep up the pace.

Your whimpers rise into moans, and your thighs shiver under his grip and come undone. Digger doesn’t stop, pressing a firm hand on your stomach, keeping you in place so he rides out your high. You’re flushed in humility, but fuck it feels amazing. You break a sweat, shivering at the cooling of your hot skin, sighing in relief when Digger finally relaxes his hold on you. His face meets yours, your arousal coating the stubble on his chin and spreading to his chops. He is ferocious and light-headed – as if drunk on the taste of you.

“Hope you’ve still got some spunk in ya,” he pants, “I’m as stiff as a board here.”

Digger invites your hand to feel his erection. You didn’t think he could be harder than he was before, but he comes full of surprises. He slings the waistband of his trousers down and his cock springs free, twitching at the touch of your flinching fingers.

“Jesus fucking Christ-” Blessed by the man himself, his size was insane. You straighten in intimidation.

“I’ll go slow, okay? Just- fuck- I’m bursting at the seams here,” he begs, cupping your cheek with a reassuring hand.

You nod with a morbid curiosity, unable to deny the instinct to have him inside you, to feel every inch of him. Digger litters you in kisses, sloppy and idle as he dampens your cheeks and lips. Opening your legs wide, sucking in a breath, you watch as he lines his cock to your entrance. There was no fuss in sliding inside you, your dripping cunt lubing his tip and coating his shaft, the feeling of him inside you more filling than painful. It sets a spark in your mind, your eyes distant, the twitch of his cock against your walls melting your senses.

An unexpected moan escapes Digger’s lips, but he is attentive enough to coo for your attention, holding your face and bringing you back to earth.

“You still with me, hun?” He chuckles at your dazed look, trying to keep himself together as you tighten around him. You blink back to reality and wrap your legs around him, mewling at the slow thrusts coming into you. You eventually nod a reply, straining your neck to witness his cock buried inside you to train your hole for his massive size. He takes advantage of your position, locking a hand behind your head and picking up the pace. He is smitten by your squeaks. His rough hand clenches your hip, setting out to fuck you good. As you will soon learn, Digger has a habit of getting carried away. You learn a lot of dirty things about him that both shock you and fill you with sweetly sick lust.

Digger has you bent over the arm of the couch, his cock pummelling in and out of your abused cunt, muffling your feral moans with a hand clasped over your mouth. He arches your back and presses his lips against your ear, reminding you that he can see right through you.

“Is this what you wanted? To fuck you; get you drunk on my fat dick. Bet you didn’t think I had it in me.”

“You’re so good, so ‘fucking good,” you moan, your eyes glued to him with lust, a sly smile across your face. Digger sticks two fingers into your mouth, teasing your tongue to swirl around them, smirking at your eagerness.

“Shit, that’s enough to make me finish,” he says in a low voice, “And you wouldn’t want me cumming inside you, would ya?”

The way you clench around his dick and the sidious look in the dim light suggest the opposite. “No, come inside me,” you seal the deal.

“You’re so bloody dirty.” Digger’s eyes turn dark, his hand wrapping around your neck, rutting into you faster and harder than before. You see stars, giving into the numbing pleasure you succumb to. A dumbfound smile stretches across your lips once you feel the warmth of Digger’s seed filling your cunt, hitting against your womb. His weight falls on you momentarily, leaving kisses along your back while his energy is slowly sucked out of him. His cock slips out and before his heavy eyes close over, he gazes at the cum dripping from your slit, groping your ass for a better view.

Digger gathers his senses, only noticing you struggling to get up from your stiff knees. He brings you onto his lap, soothing your legs and resting your head on his shoulder.

“Well, that was something…” He chuckles, “Ya think we got a little carried away?”

“I think I’ll never be able to walk again,” you joke, yet anticipated the next few days entailing leg pain.

He felt guilty, knowing to make up for it he would need more than pizza and beer. He continues to sooth your legs, nuzzling his nose into your hair.

“How’s about I run you a bath?” He suggests.

There he is again, that beacon of hope. He is going to find it hard to get rid of you now. “That’d be amazing.”

[theghostsoftheuniverse]

I love how I'll be scrolling through the most sinnful X Readers, and an AD for TherapY comes up, like, GEEZZZUS, Don't call me OuT like ThAT! 💀🙇🏻‍♀️

Anyway, let me continue with my reads😌

[acapelladitty]

Captain Boomerang/Female Reader - Unexpected Visit

Summary - Digger interrupts a 'private' moment and the fallout is more fun that you could have anticipated.

It wasn’t the fact that you were two fingers deep in your cunt - curled digits stroking along those sensitive parts within your walls that made your breath stutter as your toes curled against the sheets. It wasn’t even the fact that your bed directly faced the door which Digger was currently filling like he owned the place.

No.

The issue was the headshot of Digger which lay clenched in your free hand and the fact that the shit-eating grin on his face told you that he had heard you moaning his name as you stroked frantically along your aching clit.

“Thinking about old Digger, eh?” Digger announced, his laughter somewhere between a growl and a giggle as he palmed his rapidly-stiffening cock with his left hand. “Maybe, if ya ask nicely, I’ll see fit to replace those fingers with something almost twice as big and throbbin’ for a quick root.”

Shame burning across your face, the heat in your cheeks as your fingers pull free of your hole with an obscenely wet noise flares in an instant; your throat tightening across the moan which threatened to break free as he pulled his fat cock from his jeans and gave it a quick tug, readying it for a chance at your willing hole.

x-x-x-x-x

Not that he was bad at it. Far from it. What he lacked in practised technique he more than made up for in enthusiasm as he quickly read the signs of what movements made your thighs tighten around his ears as your lips moaned and vibrated around his fat cock. His beard and muttonchops even provided a wonderful sensation as the graze of the coarse hair on your thighs and soaked cunt added a layer of burning discomfort that made you writhe all the more desperately in place.

Following your embarrassing little impromptu show, Digger seemed determined to experiment with various positions and it had been his stellar idea to indulge in some mutual oral sex. His appetite was ravenous and even the very thorough fucking he had only just finished delivering didn't seem enough to appease him.

But still, even you had to admit that the man had a talent for suggesting amazing ideas which very quickly went awry.

So, no.

He wasn’t bad at it.

However, this did not prove to be the issue either.

But where Digger’s good idea went to die was in his decision to take the ‘below’ position in your sixty-nine adventure. A surprisingly gentlemanly choice given that he seemed to enjoy the sensation of you pinned beneath him, held in place by his thick frame while he railed you with a messy ferocity.

Being on top had suited you to begin with, the freedom of movement allowing you to set the pace as you hollowed out your cheeks and worked slowly around his pulsing shaft. His cock wasn’t the longest but the sheer girth of the thing made it a difficult task as any attempt at taking further into your mouth essentially plugged your throat entirely.

What Digger had failed to consider, when proposing this little game, was the impressive strength which you could muster with your inner thigh muscles and how tightly you were able to hold him – his face buried deep within your cunt as you rode your orgasm out on his thick features. In that wonderful moment, his natural need to breath was long disregarded and it wasn’t until his blunted nails dug bloodied crescents into your outer thighs that you recalled that little facet of the human condition and pulled yourself free of his face with a panting gasp.

“Not the worst way to go.” Digger exclaimed cheerily as he sucked in huge, desperate inhales of air. His lower face was a mess, glistening and visibly wet with your juices as his pink tongue lapped at his own lips like a particularly thirsty dog. “But I don’t think me old mum would appreciate a retellin' of the story at my eulogy.”

[va-3]

They're Injured

Masterlist

Joker:

Joker was always being hunted, shot at, and chased in car chases. Yes, you were always with him, and it technically was your job to sacrifice your life for his if it eventually came to such a point, but Mr. J had switched the roles. A gunfight had broken out in Mr. J's club. You'd repeated yourself at least ten times, yelling at Mr. J to get him to either leave or get down. Instead, he managed to switch roles and send you rolling under a table to watch him get shot in the shoulder. It goes to say that you were as pissed as you were worried, seeing that your greeting to him later was a sharp punch to the stomach followed by a passionate kiss. 

Captain Boomerang:

Digger was used to being in the line of fire, and was less than worried when he took a shot to the leg in a less than pleasant robbery. You, on the other hand, upon discovery of his wild adventure and injury, panicked in the most subtle way possible. Unfortunately, subtle in your dictionary was drive over to his house at 2am, kick down the door, scold him, and then proceed to break down crying. 

Deadshot:

In his line of work it was not unusual for him to be hunted in return, as was the occasional "battle-wound". You, on the other hand, found yourself worrying more than you should've. Death was a difficult enemy of mortals, not you, therefore you were entitled to the worry and fear that accompanied the blossoming of your relationship. Needless to say, you had him on a house lock-in for quite some time after his shoulder had been shot clean through. (snuggles were very much included)

El Diablo:

Injuries in battle were hard to avoid, as were near death experiences. You watched in horror as Chato shoved the ancient being towards the location of a lethally powerful charge. When it went off, you were nowhere to be found for a good few seconds. The team was confused until they heard you sobbing from behind the blasted ground, cradling an unconscious, severely injured, but alive Chato.

Killer Croc:

Waylon, bruised an battered after the battle with Enchantress, was pleasantly surprised when you body-slammed/bear-hugged him to near death. You'd never been so worried in your entire life, and although the injuries he sustained were little, your entire being was telling you he was gonna die. It was hard to explain that he was okay through your mix of blubbering and cursing. 

Harley Quinn:

When Harleen freed you from your solitary-confinement room, she was not herself. You were happy to see her, but the joy was quickly overrun with worry when you spotted the two burn marks on either side of her temple left behind by what you knew was electroshock. Concerned, you questioned her like an officer would a criminal until she gave out and let you tend to her wounds before fleeing the cursed institution(no regrets there). 

June Moone:

June's well being meant everything to you, any moment you felt she was in danger you try your hardest to keep her from it. But mental damage was something you could not fight, or shoot. June was tormented nightly by the dangerous being using her as a vessel, and it broke you to know that you could not do anything about it. Instead, you did your best to comfort her: held her close, calmed her with kisses, and gave her the love she needed to mend her broken soul. With your love, June felt the power to face anything. 

Enchantress: 

The mortal soldier held your love's heart in his hands, threatening to crush everything you loved for something he loved. When she refused, your eyes flashed with panic. The soldier began to crush her heart, causing her to shriek with unbelievable pain. Terrified of losing the only person who saw you as a blessing, you snatched the heart from the soldier in a bolt of light. In the flash of light, time slowed around you, giving you just enough time to sway Enchantress' spirit from the human girls body and into one you summoned from your own power. You and your lover backed away from the mortal and his human lover, happy to be safe.

Next

[gilverrwrites]

Quick and Dirty

Pairing: Captain Boomerang/Reader

Digger has an idea, it involves highly inappropriate usage of the Speed Force Gauntlet. (Please ignore the fact that the gauntlet doesn't actually extend to the fingers - at least i'm pretty sure it doesn't)

You're currently reading the AMAB version

>[Please click here for the AFAB version]<

Rating: 18+

Words: >800

Content: Established relationship, coercion (kinda), handjob, vibrations, dirty talk, spit, swearing.

Please remember: to do the things that make you happy.

Ko-Fi || Masterlist || Request Info

“No. Fucking. Way.” You warn, leaning back against the wall and crossing your arms defensively. “You keep that thing away from me.”

“Oh, come on, Darlin’.” Digger is still smiling, crooked, confident, casual. He gestures to the speed gauntlet strapped to his other arm. “It’s perfectly safe. You’ve seen me usin’ it.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” You examine the glove in question. It would be a lie to say you weren’t intrigued. You didn’t know much about the speed force beyond whatever half-truths Digger rambled on about, it seemed intricate, and unsafe. But Boomerang was a good lay, and he’d used that thing to save your skin in the field more than once, so you were willing to tentatively hear him out. “If that thing goes off midway, I don’t want my bits going with it.”

“That won’t happen… Probably.” Concern did flash across his face briefly, but it was quickly hidden by his usual bravado. He stepped closer to you, not quite close enough to touch, but enough that you could smell him, that you could feel the high energy radiating from him. Or maybe that was the gauntlet. “Have a little faith in ol’ Boomer, aye. I’ll treat you right, make you feel real good.”

“Okay… but if anything happens to mine.” You point to your crotch before gesturing to the growing erection in Digger's trousers. “I’m using yours as target practice.”

That might have been a boner killer for other men, but Digger's enthusiasm when it comes to sex or showing off knows no bounds, and this is a perfect opportunity for both. His eyes glint with mischief, with victory. He licks his lips, and you know there’s no backing out now, you’re fucked.

Digger maintains eye contact as he reaches out, there’s no pleasantries. He makes quick work undoing your trousers, hooking his gloved fingers in your boxers, and pulling them both down until they’re positioned halfway down your thighs.

“What, no foreplay?” You challenge, raising your brows at him.

“You’re not gonna need it.” The look he gives you is so coy, so amused. It should fuel your cynicism, but it looks hot on him. “But, since ya asked so nicely, I guess I can spare a lil somethin’.”

He rests his unarmed hand on the wall beside you and leans in, occupying your lips with his. You’re only allowed a moment to enjoy it before you feel the brisk metal finger plates of the gauntlet wrap around your half hard cock. You hiss at the contact, and Digger pulls his hand back immediately.

“Sorry bout that. Shoulda warmed it up first.” His expression flips to sheepish as he brushes his fingers against his scarf. He blows on it a few times before spitting into his palm and continuing. “Right, let’s try that again.”

He resumes the position, one hand on the wall, one hand slinking back between your legs, and his face just inches from yours. The temperature has barely improved, but he’s able touch your dick without causing you to flinch this time.

You’re still underwhelmed as he starts slowly pumping up and down your shaft. To give him a fighting chance, you close your eyes, hoping it will help you focus on the feeling.

“Aye, no no no. Keep your eyes open.” As you follow his instruction, you hear a quiet whizzing from below, a lesser sound than the gauntlet's normal powering up. “I wanna watch your reaction.”

Then it hits you, an intense pulsing, jerking you at an impossible speed. The wall prevents you from being able to roll your head back, so you stare at Digger, wide-eyed as your body tingles and burns.

“Shhhhiiiiit, you like that.” His voice is dripping with fervour, and it only serves to add an extra level of throbbing to your cock. Already approaching your climax, you’re unable to find the words to respond, instead fisting your hands around Digger's leather lapels in anticipation. “You reallllly like that, don’t ya?”

A nod is all you can manage as you begin to jerk and quiver, hitting your climax in record time. It’s hot and searing, like lightning is running through your whole body. Seemingly endless ropes of cum spills between your bodies, sullying both your clothes and the gauntlet.

The tips of your fingers and toes, among other things, are still twitching as you start to catch your breath moments later. You can barely comprehend whatever Digger is prattling on about. He’s waving the gauntlet around, his arm moving so fast you can’t make it out. There’s lots of brash laughter and ‘I told ya so’s. You’re finally able to fully tune in as he in as he declares; “We have gotta do that again, soon.”

[dem-obscure-imagines]

New Year's Eve Kisses 2024

Note: It is once again that magic time of year. As is tradition around these parts, I have written five drabbles of characters from different fandoms to celebrate the New Year, specifically, the tradition where people kiss the one they love as midnight strikes. Sorry I’ve been so inactive as of late. I’ve been working on some big things in the writing sphere (as far as my original fiction is concerned anyway), but I hope you all enjoyed the two big fics I did post this year. May the new year smile on all of you, and may your reading and writing endeavors be fruitful. Love ya!

For additional context, Poe’s is a continuation of I Know the End, my big Star Wars fic from earlier this year. You don’t need to read it to enjoy this, but if you’re confused, that’s why. A little gendered language in that one (Princess and such) but the other four are gender neutral.

Fandoms: Wicked (Movie), Star Wars, DCEU (rip, she will be missed), DC CW Universe, Bridgerton (Show)

Total Word Count: 4.2k words

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, kissin’, some language

Fiyero Tigelaar

Words: 0.6k

Fiyero Tigelaar, the Winkie prince, was no stranger to a party. Unsurprisingly, he was tearing up the dance floor, dressed in his finest, just before he was meant to be sent off to his next school. When he’d arrived, he’d warned you he wouldn’t last long. He’d been right. He was going to Shiz University. But tonight, he intended to make the most of it.

As always, he had a flock of followers around him, fawning at his every move. You smirked into your glass, trying to avert your eyes. He didn’t need any more attention.

That, of course, didn’t stop him from coming over to you with that intoxicating look in his eye. The guy was charming, you had to give him that.

“And what are you doing over here?” He asked, leaning against the bar where you were perched.

“Celebrating the New Year, Your Highness.”

He grinned. “What, all alone?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“You should be out there. On the floor. Dancing.” He said, motioning to the others, still lost in the rhythm of the song.

“Seems a little crowded.” You reasoned, smirking. “Don’t you have enough cronies?”

“I could use another.” He all but murmured, the tone of his voice making your heart shudder. “Besides, it’s my last night. I feel like I didn’t get to know you well enough.”

“Well, you did warn me not to get attached.”

He hummed at that, nodding. Still, he offered his hand and you hesitated for a long time before finally taking it. One final leap. It wouldn’t matter, in the long run. He was transferring schools, and you doubted you’d ever see him again. But you were kind of glad your paths had crossed.

And so you danced and danced and danced, twirling and laughing, not just with him, but with the others there, gathered on the dance floor while the Animal band played you off into the new year.

Then, at the end of the night, just before he could slip out unnoticed, you caught Fiyero leaving.

“Leaving so soon?”

“Told you not to get attached.” He said quietly, going through his satchel, that wry grin returning to that impossibly handsome face. “Came to see me off?”

“Didn’t mean to. I was making my escape, too.”

“Ah, I see. Well, it sounds like you’re missing the countdown in there.”

“That was kind of the point.”

He smirked. “Come here.”

“Why?”

“I never properly thanked you for your help in class. I’ve been told I’m quite…”

“You’re not stupid. I know you pretend to be.”

“Still, I was forgetful. Careless. You covered for me.” He smiled softly. “Thank you.”

Finally, you were right in front of him. He held something out. A token. A little, stitched seal from his home territory.

“I know it’s not much, but if you ever need anything, where I’m from, this is enough to get it for you.”

“Thank you, Fiyero. That’s really sweet.” You said softly.

“Happy New Year. Good luck with the rest of the year.” He said earnestly before that infamous smirk pulled at his lips again. “Try not to miss me too much.”

“No promises.” You said with a chuckle.

Then, something inexplicable happened. Fiyero took a step forward and pressed a long, soft kiss to your forehead. It was meaningful. Unlike the countless times he’d made out with countless members of the student body. Men and women alike. And yet, at the same time, you knew you were just a stepping stone. Passing ships.

Still, as you watched him ride off, you were glad you’d met.

Poe Dameron

Words: 0.9k

On base, no celebration was taken for granted. With all the constant fighting and battles, loss and destruction, you needed to spend some time celebrating when things went right. And for so long, so many years of your life, that had been the case.

But the war was over now. You were back on your home planet, Mariposas, ringing in the first new year as the princess of your people. The first new full year of peace in the galaxy. You dressed in one of your nicer gowns from the first war. One the Ewoks had made for you. It was hand-dyed with materials from their home moon, Endor.

You did your hair, setting a tiara on top. There was a knock on the doorframe, and suddenly, your fiancé was standing there, fiddling with the sash of some traditional Mariposan garb. It was a new thing, as he was not Mariposan. Instead, he was human. Very human. Now, an all-but-retired human pilot. A war veteran, and the soon-to-be prince of your home planet.

“Alright, give it to me straight. I look ridiculous.”

“You look handsome.” You reassured, walking closer, taking both of Poe’s hands in yours. Large and rough. Tan and calloused, both from the steering rod of his X-Wing as well as the blaster he fired for so many years. It hadn’t seen action in quite some time, thankfully. Still, it remained at his hip, much like your lightsaber remained on yours. “Princely, even.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“I’m not.” You insisted, shaking your head, gazing up at him. Your eyes glimmered with love. “Since when do I lie to you, Commander Dameron?”

“Hey, I thought we said no titles in private quarters, Your Highness.” He replied, lacing his fingers through your own, pulling one hand to his lips and beginning to kiss up your exposed arm. “You really think it suits me? I don’t want those dignitaries to laugh me out of the party.”

“I think everything suits you. But if you’re really that worried about it, I’ve still got that old flight suit of yours tucked into the back of the closet.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You and that flight suit…”

Rey cleared her throat. “Ready?”

“Yeah, we’re good. Heading down in a second. You look lovely, Rey.”

“Thank you. So do you.”

“Looking sharp, Poe.” Finn agreed, following after her in his new and improved Jedi robes. Since he’d finally begun the last leg of his training, it only made sense that he looked the part. It suited him. It really, really suited him.

“Right back at ya, Finn.” Poe grinned, watching as your friends walked down the hall. He let go of your hands and offered his elbow instead. “Well, shall we?”

You looped your arm through his, following him down to the beginnings of your party. The ballroom was filled with people. Mostly, your war friends and allies. Leia was there, Lando, Wedge, Snap and the rest of Black Squadron, and of course, your sister and her husband and son. Finn, Rey, and Ben. They all chatted, mingling through the large, mostly reconstructed ballroom.

You and Poe melted into the crowd, catching up with the people you hadn’t seen in forever, congratulating them on weddings and new babies, while all of them asked about yours, your planned wedding to one Mr. Poe Dameron, your fiancé and the love of your life. Admittedly, wedding plans had taken the backseat in favor of building your home planet back up from the literal ashes, opening your doors to war refugees, victims of the First Order who now found themselves without homes. Many of them were now in the room with you, celebrating their new lives, however different they were from their old ones.

It was good. It felt right.

Finally, at the end of the night, after several glasses of Mariposan mead, Poe found his way back to you, grinning that tired, tipsy grin of his. His arms wrapped around your waist and he rested his forehead against yours.

“Heeeeey, Princess. There you are. You look stunning. You having fun?”

“Definitely. Looks like you are, too.”

He nodded, smiling. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, pulling you closer. “When’re we getting married, baby? The people wanna know.”

“Oh I know. They’ve been asking me, too.” You chuckle. “I’m sorry it’s been relegated so far back. It’s just been busy with the planet reconstruction and the new Jedi Temple and…”

“Nah, that’s okay. I knew what I was getting when I proposed to a princess. You’re a busy lady. I don’t care when we get married so long as it happens. But…I wouldn’t mind soon.”

You smiled softly, nodding. “I think soon sounds good.”

The droids let you all know the new year was approaching and people gathered to count it down.

“I love you, Princess. Thank you. For all of it. For coming into my life. For winning the war. For saving me. For letting me hang out here on this awesome planet even though I am totally overstaying my welcome.”

“Stoppppp.” You giggled, shaking your head. “Thank you for waking me up. Without you, I literally would not be standing here.”

“Alright, well, if we keep thanking each other for every little thing, we’ll be here all night and I don’t know about you, but I have some more pressing plans for the evening.”

“Like what?”

“Like this,” he replied, pulling you closer and pressing his lips to yours, movements languid and loving as the party around you rang in a fresh new year, the war long gone, and the peacetimes just getting started.

Digger Harkness

Words: 0.9k

Holed up in a dingy bar while chaos ran rampant through Metropolis was not the way you thought your New Year’s Eve would go. But being a member of the Justice League…stranger things had happened.

You, alongside a group known as Taskforce X to some, the Suicide Squad to most, had just, more or less saved the world. But due to the disarray, their envoy hadn’t yet been dispatched to pick them up. Hence the bar. And you, as the one trusted person that knew of their existence aside from Rick Flag and Bruce Wayne (because Bruce knows everything), were relegated to babysitting duty while Rick filed the paperwork. Standard stuff. Breakdowns of the battle, heroic acts by the group members, that kind of thing. Things that would reduce their prison sentences, in theory, if doing so many of these impossible missions didn’t kill them first.

You perched on a barstool, chin rested against your fist as you watched the clock tick, listened to the sounds of the sirens in the distance as things calmed down. Crisis averted. Another Tuesday in Metropolis.

Boomerang scooted some rubble aside with his elbow, motioning to the stool beside yours. “Anyone sittin’ here?”

“Nope. Knock yourself out.” You said, chuckling softly, shaking your head.

“Aw, come on now, (L/N)! Why the long face? We saved the world, again.” He said, bumping his elbow against yours playfully. “It’s worth celebratin’, ain’t it?”

“Definitely. Celebrate away.” You replied, managing a tired grin.

He hesitated, eyes scanning you. “You feelin’ alright? Didn’t use too much of that energy of yours kickin’ alien ass?”

Your smile grew and you shook your head. “No. Sometimes, Boomer, I’m just tired.”

He glanced at the clock, as the New Year neared, closer and closer every minute. “You had plans, didn’t you? Tonight?”

Bingo. “Yeah, it wasn’t anything major, just…a night in with some college friends. Watching the ball drop. Sipping cheap wine.”

He hummed, nodding. He glanced around the rundown bar, windows cracked in from the near-apocalypse that had just blown over. In the corner of the room, Deadshot and Killer Croc were tweaking the wiring of a slightly damaged TV. It flickered a few times and then, against all odds, the countdown came on.

“Well, there we go. There’s one down. Let me rummage around back here.” He walked around the side of the bar and dug through the supplies before pulling out a bottle of sweet, cheap wine. One of the brands you liked. He pulled out the least damaged wine glasses he could find and poured you each a glass, sliding one across the bartop to you.

“You don’t have to do this, you know.” You said, trying to fight the smile on your face. Trying to keep your wall up. You were a hero. He was a criminal. A diamond thief. Your antithesis. And yet…his charms had been chipping away at the barrier around your heart since you first met. Even moreso since you’d been fighting on the same team.

He shook his head. “You deserve a nice New Year’s. Shouldn’t have to give it up to hang out with lowlifes like us.”

You wanted to retort, but you didn’t, instead sipping your wine as the anchors on the TV talked about the disaster in Metropolis, how this New Year’s Eve had very nearly been the last. “Well thank you anyway. You’re not bad company.”

He huffed at that, looking unconvinced.

“I mean it. I…don’t know what I expected when I signed up for this, but…it wasn’t you guys. I thought you would all kinda hate me. It’s nice to be tolerated, though.”

“And I thought you were gonna be some prissy buzzkill that looked at us like we were…” He shook his head, not finishing the thought. “But you’re not.”

You were quiet for a moment. “Thank you.”

“I already told you, this is nothin’—”

“Not for the wine. For earlier. You took a pretty bad blast for me. Blocked me so I could take the final shot. You saved the world.”

“You saved the world. I just gave ya a boost, love.” He murmured into his wine glass. The word curled around his tongue gently. You’d never heard him use it before. Not directed at you.

“You saved me.” You insisted, meeting his gaze.

His eyes softened. “I did my best.”

You reached over, gently taking his hand, like you were approaching a wild animal. He flinched, but his rough fingers curled around yours, giving your hand a squeeze.

“You have a resolution?” You asked.

“Yeah.”

“What is it.”

“Can’t tell ya or it won’t come true.” He replied, grinning.

“That’s birthday wishes. Not New Year’s Resolutions.”

He looked conflicted for a moment before saying. “Nah, it really won’t come true if I tell ya.”

“Why’s that?” You asked as Harley began to loudly count down from ten in the corner of the room.

“It’s so unrealistic, is all.” He explained with a shrug, eyes searching yours as the seconds melted away until finally, midnight struck and the others yelled out, celebrating the new year.

“Let me be the judge of that.” You murmured, leaning forward and capturing his lips.

He gasped into your mouth, squeezing your hand as he kissed you. His surprise evaporated into something much more solid and real. You could tell he’d been waiting for it just as long as you had. Maybe longer.

When it was over, he rested his forehead against yours. “I still have to go back to Belle Reve.”

“I know.”

“But…you’ll come visit?”

You chuckled, giving a wry grin. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Cisco Ramon

Words: 0.7k

A cute, sparkly New Year’s Eve fit? Check. More alcohol than any human could reasonably consume? Check. A metahuman headache from hell? Also, check. Unfortunately. After sending out a few texts, cancelling your plans, you gathered a stack of DVDs, some fuzzy pajamas, a pile of blankets, some tea, and some painkillers.

You let out a sigh, taking in your surroundings. Sure, you were cozy, but you really had been looking forward to spending time with your Star Labs coworkers. They’d welcomed you to Team Flash without so much as a hesitation, especially once they found out about your powers. They were some of the only people that understood you. Over the last few years, they had become everything to you.

Caitlyn sent you a text telling you to feel better, as did Barry. Nothing from Cisco. You expected him to send a Tiktok or something to cheer you up, but you didn’t beat yourself up over it. You were sure they were all out having fun at a karaoke club or something.

Until there was a knock on the door.

Eyebrows furrowing, you stood up and walked to answer it, pulling it open. Cisco was standing there, holding a pizza box, a scarf wrapped around his neck, snowflakes caught in his long black hair.

“Pizza Delivery for a (Y/N) (L/N)?” He asked, looking you up and down. “Is that you?”

“Thanks, Cisco.”

“Don’t mention it.” He grinned, stepping through your front door and kicking the snow off his boots before taking them off in the doorway and setting them down on your shoe shelf, as he had so many times.

“Whatcha doing? Don’t you have plans?”

“I did. And then one of my friends got a wicked headache from their awesome superpowers, so…plans changed. What are we watching?”

“Uhh, Howl’s Moving Castle right now. I was gonna switch to the countdown after, though.”

“Ooh, Howl’s! Classic. I got your usual. With that cream cheese dip you like. And, I stopped at the pharmacy on the corner and got you migraine meds.”

You smiled at that, heart swelling as he said it. “Cisco…”

“What?” He asked, taking off his coat and tossing you the bottle of pills. You caught them, reading the label on the bottle.

“You really didn’t have to do this.”

“Uhhhhh, yeah I did.” He shrugged, plopping himself down on the couch, setting the pizza on the coffee table, gently moving your mug aside. “Come on. Settle in. This castle isn’t gonna move itself.”

“Actually, it kinda does. That’s the whole point.” You chuckled, settling into the spot next to him, leg brushing his.

The two of you watched the end of the movie and your migraine meds started to kick in. You felt a lot better. Still, as you flipped the channel to the New Year’s Eve countdown, where some singer was on stage. You got up and carried the leftover pizza to the fridge, fetching a bottle of the beer Cisco liked, which you always kept stocked…just in case.

When you returned, he grinned, looking at the bottle. “See, you take care of everyone else. It’s about time someone took care of you.”

“Yeah, yeah, just drink it.” You chuckled, settling back in, sitting even closer to him this time, his arm perched on the back of the couch. One thing led to another, and somehow, your head wound up on his shoulder and his arm wound up around yours.

You sat in comfortable silence as the show played on, making comments and jokes every here and there. You laughed a lot. You always seemed to when he was around. Then, finally, they started counting down.

“Hey, uh…” Cisco started. “This is totally not the reason I came here, but…um…would it be alright with you if I…”

You smiled, lifting your head from his shoulder and turning to look at him, impossibly close. His warm brown eyes searched your features for any sign of hesitation. Of rejection. Instead, you reached up to touch his face, pulling him in for a kiss before the ball even reached the bottom.

He smiled against you, leaning into the kiss. You could tell he’d been wanting this. Waiting for it.

And when it was over, a few minutes after midnight, if you were honest, he rested his forehead against yours for a moment before pulling you back against his chest. “I’m glad I came. Best New Year’s Ever.”

“I’m glad you did, too. And if you want…I, uh…I’d like to keep kissing you. Into the new year.”

He grinned. “Fuck yeah.”

Penelope Featheringon

Words: 1.0k

The Queen was no stranger to a good party. She loved the drama, the intrigue, the young love blossoming all around her. Which was why it was no surprise to you when invitations to a grand New Year’s Eve Ball arrived in the post. All of London was buzzing with speculation of who would wear what, who would dance with whom, and most of all, if the infamous Lady Whistledown would be in attendance, hashing out all of the details in a special holiday edition of her newsletter.

You, for one, couldn’t wait to find out.

As the evening unfolded, you mingled a bit. Reconnected with old friends you hadn’t seen in months, since the majority of the Ton had retreated to their country estates for the colder months. You watched as the Bridgerton brothers controlled the room. Every eligible lady and then some had their eye on them, much, it would seem, to Benedict’s dismay.

Meanwhile, you turned your attention to Penelope, who stood at the corner of the room. Listening. Watching. She was good at that, it seemed.

“Hey, Pen. You look lovely this evening.”

Her cheeks flushed pink at the sudden attention. So used to being invisible, it was hard, being seen. “Thank you. You look g-great as well, (Y/N).”

You smiled. “Thanks.”

The silence grew in the space between you. Like weeds in the pavement.

“I can’t believe it’s the end of another one. I feel it’s gone so fast. These last months, especially.” You said.

She nodded. “Yes, since October, it’s been quite the blur. Any prospects?”

You laughed. “None. Yourself?”

“Oh, no. It does surprise me, though. That you don’t have any.”

“Haven’t been social enough, I suppose. Mother keeps trying to drag me to parties, but I’m completely content at home with a good book and a glass of wine.”

“The solitude is nice. Gives one time to think.” Penelope said quietly, looking around the room. “Although, I don’t mind a party.”

You raised an eyebrow at that. “Really?”

“Not in the slightest. I think they’re quite fun. I like people watching. Listening to the drama. Mr. Silver over there, for example, just spilled champagne all over his wife’s new silk gown. Mr. and Mrs. Rose married in a hurry, but seem to be on rocky ground, despite seemingly being a love match.”

“Lust match, is more like it.”

Penelope laughed at that, nodding in agreement, making a mental note to use that for later.

“I guess I’ve never seen it like that. I’d been so focused on my own loneliness at these things that I never realized there was so much going on.”

“Well, if you ever do find yourself alone and unhappy, we can be alone together, if you’d like.” She offered, eyes sparkling with sincerity. And perhaps something more, though you couldn’t be sure.

You smiled, nodding. “I’d like that.”

As midnight approached, you wandered out onto the terrace, snow falling from the starlit sky. It was cold out, but you didn’t mind. It had been getting rather warm inside, what with the roaring fireplaces and the room full of people. It was quiet. Not to mention gorgeous.

You took a long moment to think. Penelope Featherington. Penelope. Someone you’d been friends with for so long. Someone who, you’d thought until tonight, had never carried anything but friendship in her heart for you…now, you weren’t so sure. For the first time, you’d seen something more in those wide, gorgeous eyes of hers.

Your next breath floated off into the sky, a puff of steam in the cold winter air.

“You’ll catch your death out here.” A voice said, the door to the terrace opening. It was Penelope, dressed in her cloak, clearly getting ready to make her escape.

“Where are you going?”

“Home. It is nearing the stroke of twelve and I wish to get home and rest.” She said. “Why are you out here?”

“I was getting warm in there.” You confess, though now, you’re trembling.

“Aren’t you hoping someone might kiss you when the clock strikes twelve?” She asked softly. “There are plenty of options roaming the floor, on the search for their victims.”

“That would be the other reason I am out here, then. I have no desire to have my lips…entangled with some of those bachelors. I have never had a New Year’s Eve kiss, none of them will be my first.”

“Neither have I.” She confessed, footsteps crunching softly in the snow. “A New Year’s Eve kiss, or…any other.”

“I could kiss you.” You blurted suddenly. “If you like. If not…forget I ever—”

“You would?” She asked, almost too quickly. Silence hung between the two of you, as thick and sparkling as the snow.

You stepped closer, footsteps crunching impossibly loudly as the murmurs of the party drifted up into the cold winter air. Vaguely, you could hear them counting. But it didn’t matter. All that mattered was you and her. “I would. If you want.”

“I would like that very much.” She whispered as you finally stood in front of her.

Slowly, gently, you leaned forward, a tender hand touching her face. Her breath hitched, eyes flicking from one of yours to the other before finally landing on your lips, just as you closed the distance between the two of you. It was sweet. It was slow. It was everything you expected it to be and more. Her floral scent drifted through your nostrils, that intoxicating scent that reminded you of spring, even in the dead of winter.

When you pulled apart, you brushed the vibrant red hairs from her forehead before pressing another kiss there, as well. “Happy New Year, Penelope. Thank you, for letting me get a head start on my resolution.”

She smiled softly, gazing at you. “To kiss as many eligible women of the Ton as you can?”

“No, to kiss you.”

And as soon as those words left your lips, you soon found hers on them again…

[gamingdreamland]

I am not... normal about him

[nobitchs-world]

Me when my favorite tag updates when it hasn’t been updated in months

[riddled-with-fear]

Sigh… just thinking about freshly out of Arkham Digger.

NSFW under the cut!

•Digger who can’t stop peppering you with kisses, who kisses your temples, your cheeks, your nose, your lips… Digger who takes your hand in his, pressing his warm lips to your knuckles leaving soft, gentle kisses in his wake.

•Digger whose hands haven’t left you since he got out of Arkham. He’s touching you in some capacity whether it’s holding your hand, placing his hand on your thigh or lower back, slinging an arm around you, or grabbing your ass to which He swears it was an accident! His hand just slipped!

•Digger who can barely keep his cock in his pants once he gets to be with you again, who is constantly finding himself erect at the smallest things. Like the way you bend over to grab something, or the way you gasp and sigh, or the way your tits bounce when you walk… the way your jeans fit so snug around your ass and thighs…

•his cock is weeping to be sheathed inside your warm, wet, tight cunt. He can’t think straight around you at all. All of his blood is supplying his throbbing erection.

•Digger who is on the verge of dropping to his knees and begging-whining-to fuck you. He needs to let out his pent up frustrations and you’re just so cruelly teasing him!

•Digger who subtly-not-so-subtly brushes his erection against you, craving any sort of friction he can get without being too obvious. Unfortunately for him it can’t be obvious enough.

•Digger who all but cries when he finally gets to stuff his thick cock into you. Fucking up into your welcoming cunt, blissfully fucked out.