Deek Thinks You Should Be Ashamed Of Yourself

*MC and Sebastian making out heavy in the room of requirement*

Deek: ....Can I get you guys anything? Drinks? Snacks? ....A condom? Lemme know..

~

NSFW Alphabet for Ominis Gaunt

Warnings - 18 + smut

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex) Ominis is very sleepy, but first and foremost concerned with caring for you. He wants to make sure you're comfortable and cleaned up before committing to snuggling into you for a nap

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)Ominis likes his own hands the most. He knows that pleasure he's able to bring you with them and they're what allow him to completely memorize the softness and angles of your body. His favorite part of yours is your stomach, he loves teasing you around it, making you think he's about to relieve you when he isn't. He loves the feeling of it and how it connects to your softest and most sensitive areas.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically) He loves feeling his cum go down your throat, the way you gag around him and he feels you swallowing to get down all of his seed. He praises you while you do it too.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) His dirty secret is that he really loves sex in the Undercroft. It feels like his own private haven and place to relax and being able to have you there just really makes him feel possessive in a good way.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)He's not had a lot of hands-on experience, but he considers himself well-read with thorough research done. He takes his time with you the first time you have an encounter, committing to learning what your body likes the best.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying) Ominis headcannon for that is here he is a slight softy and enjoys positions that keep you guys as close as possible

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.) Ominis is pretty serious and committed to a loving experience or a very dominating experience with you. He can also be a good submissive depending on the day and how stressed he is, but sex is always super important for him to have that connection for you.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) Ominis probably makes an attempt to keep things tidy for his own comfort. His chest is bare, but a trail of light-colored hair goes from his stomach down to his pubic area. The rest of his body is mostly hairless, just covered in some fine blond hair.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect) When you're making love and it isn't just kinky, he's very sweet. He spends the whole time doting on you, praising you, and telling you how much he needs you. He also spends a lot of time on foreplay here, being as sensual and slow as possible to enjoy every inch of you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon) He likes to edge himself for long periods of time. He's really fond of building up his orgasm and tries his best to wait out for you. He lays in his bed at night torturing himself and fighting for his own release.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks) He likes to be called by a term like daddy or sir. He likes the power trip and being able to have it in a safe space with you. He alternatively loves the idea of being submissive to you and begging for your attention. It's euphoric when you finally lay your hands on him.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do) The Undercroft, your room to avoid Sebastian. Sometimes he charms the Undercroft to keep Sebastian out and gaslight the hell out of him into thinking he's going crazy.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going) He's really motivated by how audible your pleasure is, it really spurs him. Since he likes to let space drag on between your encounters to intensify your need for each other he loves to tease you in semi-public settings. Like in the quiet library, he enjoys saying things to get a rise out of you or putting a gentle hand on your thigh.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs) He wouldn't want pain to be a substantial part of anything you two did. Gentle things like scratching, biting, and sucking are okay with him, but nothing more intense than that.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) He loves both so much, but his desire to please you is very high. He gets so many tastes and textures when he's giving you head and teasing your thighs in the process.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.) He's usually a slower pace, but very hard and aggressive strokes if he's the one giving. If he's received he shamelessly likes it fast and rough.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.) He doesn't particularly like them, but if he's desperate enough he'll absolutely shove you up against a wall and be very forceful in taking what he wants.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.) He's open to trying new things with you, he just likes to talk about details a lot beforehand. As long as it isn't inherently for pain, he'll try with you.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?) He has a lot of stamina. You usually have a pretty intense first round of things followed by 2 or 3 slower sessions, taking much more time with each other.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?) He wouldn't want to jump to using toys, he would be adamant about trying to please you with the body parts that he has first. He wouldn't outright say no, though and if you insisted it would make things better he would relent and end up enjoying it.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease) He teases entirely too much, he loves to tease you in the most subtle ways to drive you crazy all throughout the day.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.) He can be quite loud in the throes of pleasure. He's got a lot of gasping and whimpering that comes out alongside moans of your name. He cannot keep quiet to save his life.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character) Ominis is a sucker for letting you undress him

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes) Headcannon for detailed pp info here. Ominis has such fair skin with all of his beauty marks scattered into different shapes, sizes, and shades. His skin flushes so easily when he starts to heat up and he can't hide his desire. He's girthy and grows when he gets hard to a full 8 inches.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?) It's fairly high, but he's excellent at hiding and keeping both of you at bay to build up the tension for sex that's gonna create fireworks.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) Once he knows you're all comfy and taken care of, he's going to crash so fast. He won't even notice the soft kisses you give him as you stare at how peaceful he is.

hobie 🕷️🎸: 1 video

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the video's dark. looks like it was shot somewhere that definitely reeks. but with your brightness all the way up, what's going on in the video.. is crystal fucking clear.

"i- i tried to wait, swear i did love, but i couldn't. couldn't stop thinkin' about you, and your pretty cunt." he’s not shy. even stuttering, he’s cocky and unashamed of what he’s doing. he’s got his hand wrapped around his cock, spider suit unzipped and pants unbuttoned, only hanging onto his waist because of his studded belt. his slim frame looks beautiful.

he's jerking himself off in a busted back alley, camera propped up on a window sill. his pretty tip is already leaking pre-cum, lithe fingers coming up to swipe it down, to make the slide easier.

"got hard thinkin' about you, had to dip off n' take care of it." he flashes a wicked smile, throwing his head back, exposing his neck. his hips cant into his fist, fucking the little circle he makes knowing he wishes he was fucking you instead.

"god, 'm just a fuckin' perv, ain i? pants pulled down in an alley, fuckin' my fist for you?" he chuckles, bringing his eyes down to gaze at the camera, and then down at his cock.

"shit, wish it was you, doll." he speeds up, moaning shakily. "'s not wet enough, need your pretty pussy," he groans. his hand leaves his cock, coming up to his mouth, and he spits, trying the best he can to simulate the wet warmth of your cunt. he looks so gorgeous, with his pretty dick with it’s pretty upward curve held tight in his hand.

he starts his pace again, fucking his fist with visions of you own your knees doing it for him instead, the sound of his own hand moving against his dick loud and unmistakable. he’s desperate, whiney, broken moans falling from his lips. he looks so good, happy trail just barely visible. his taut stomach flexes with his every thrust, the expanse of pretty brown skin looking beautiful even with the darkness of the video.

lips parted and slick with spit, dick hard and leaking for you, he looks the image of a god. your god. and yet, he’s pleading to you, begging for salvation that he knows he won’t receive until he gets back home. his fist’ll have to do for now.

and it does, as long as he keeps you in the forefront of his mind. and he does.

“‘m close already,” he murmurs, eyes fixed on where his cock disappears into his hand and comes out on the other side, swiping his thumb over his pretty brown tip. “shit, you’d make me cum so hard, know you would. jerk me so good i’d be shootin’ blanks.” he can’t help but laugh again, breathless and wanting.

“cum with me, yeah? know you’ve been touchin’ yourself to this— fuck, wish it was me instead. should be me, with my hands all over you.” his thrusts pick up, his hand speeds up too.

“‘m g’na cum, please cum with me, love, don’t w’na cum alone,” he whines, deep and sincere. “fuckfuckfuck,” he spills into his hand, moaning loud, throwing his head back again. he rambles mixed together letters of your name and wishes that you were here, that you were the one making him bust.

he comes down with a heaving chest, hand still stroking slowly at his cock. laughs start to rack through him, his eyes focusing back on his camera. wiping his hand off on a tattered piece of fabric with a blissed out look on his face, he pulls his suit back up and fixes his pants.

“hope you liked it, love,” is all he says before he ends the video, pretty face frozen on your phone screen.

we used to be a happy family

[spoiler below]

why did you ruin it for us

Beneath Some Old Moon

Summary: After a close call with the Two Face Gang, you offer your savior--the mysterious Crusader--some hospitality.

(alternatively, save a horse...)

Pairing: Cowboy!Bruce Wayne x reader

Words: 5.9k

Content/warnings: old west cowboy au, historical inaccuracies probably, threatening scenario, guns, p in v sex, cowgirl (get it?), sort of sub!bruce, unprotected sex, reader is not described, reader's horse is not named

Wind whips across your face as you ride as fast as your horse will take you.

The Two Face gang hoots and hollers behind you. At the front, Harvey ‘Two Face’ Dent, leading his group of men.

You’d stayed in town too long, caught up in the gossip of a stranger riding in. The rumors were he was the same guy who stopped some bandits down in the prairie. Of course, your current predicament doesn’t really seem worth the whispers, because wherever his Crusader stranger is, it’s not here. It’s just you attempting to outrun a gang of five as they quickly gain on you.

Your horse may be well trained, but she isn’t used to this speed the way the gangs’ likely are.

Shots ring out around the ground by your horse’s hooves, drowning the men’s laughter. Dirt kicks up into the air. Before you really know what’s happening, you’re flat on your back, the air knocked from your lungs. Above you, clouds collect over the stars, leaving nothing but the large bright moon.

If you’re killed here tonight, you hope that’s the last thing you see.

The gang circles you on their horses. Yours runs off towards the ranch. You imagine it waiting by the stable for you, only for you to never arrive. You think of your cows, come morning waiting to be fed. You take what little solace you can knowing the widow nearby will notice when the animals begin to get rowdy from their hunger if the neighbor boy’s late to help as he often is.

Hooves trample around you as the men trap you. You feel something damp along your side, and for a moment, you think you might be bleeding. As you raise a trembling hand to your side, it takes you a second to realize it’s not blood at all. One of the jars of canned peaches you picked up in town shattered when you hit the ground. Shards of glass jostle in your satchel as you try to sit back up.

You’re still gasping for air, trying to fill your aching lungs with everything that had been knocked out of you. Thoughts race through your head as you try to think of any good way out of here, but you’re surrounded and unarmed.

A sudden yell snaps you from your oxygen-deprived daze. Dent is now on the ground with you, outside the ring of horses, and being dragged away.

Yelling and hooves trampling deafen you before you can process what’s happening. Shots ring out again, and you flinch, anticipating impact. Instead, powerful legs race by you as the horses charge towards a single man.

A full moon’s light illuminates the fight. You wheeze and stagger back. Two Face wriggles on the ground in the restraints of the lasso around his shoulders.

Though you can’t really be certain, you feel an innate sense of knowledge that this is the stranger people whispered about in town. You’d accidentally met his eyes this morning. They were bluer than the sky on a clear day. Like peering into a stream of crystal clear water.

Now he lures the gang away from you, his horse weaving to avoid their shots. You keep waiting for the moment he pulls his gun out on them, but the moment never comes. The stranger ducks as he guides the men between two boulders. Your vision still swims slightly as you squint to figure out why.

Your questions are answered when the first two men following the stranger hit something and spring back from their horses towards the other two men behind them. Dirt kicks up around them as the horses fall into disarray, bucking and crying out before running in all different directions.

The stranger turns his horse, dismounting before the pile of outlaws sprawled out onto the ground. You watch in stunned silence as he unties a rope from the boulders, wrapping it around the dazed group of men.

When his work is done, the man straightens up and turns towards you. Yet again, you’re stunned by the blue of his eyes. In the moonlight, they look almost ghostly.

He takes his horse and leads it over to you by its reins. He towers above you where you’re still on the ground. Embarrassment creeps up your spine as you think about the fact you should have stood up by now.

“Are you alright?” he asks, stretching out a hand dressed in black leather for you to take. His voice is gruff, the words clipped. In his other hand, he holds his hat. He took it off as soon as he approached you.

After a moment’s hesitation, your hand wraps around his. He pulls you back up to your feet with ease. You nod and manage to breathe a thank you, finally beginning to catch your breath. Your eyes drift towards the gang tied up on the ground. The sound of the stranger’s voice pulls your gaze back up to him.

“Were you out walking at this time of night?” he asks. His voice makes it sound as if he’s accusing you of something.

You huff slightly. “No, I wasn’t walking out here,” you snap. Guilt quickly takes over for your short fuse, but the stranger doesn’t seem startled either way. You imagine he encounters far worse than the likes of you. “My horse ran off when they started chasing us. They were shooting at the ground. She threw me.”

The stranger nods. “Where were you going?” he asks.

You have half a mind to lie. It would be the smart thing to do, wouldn’t it? All you know of this man comes from town gossip, and the incredible feat you’d just seen in front of you, neither of which give complete promise that you’re safe with him. What’s to say he isn’t going to want something in return for helping you? What good would giving this man your address do?

At the same time, however, you realize this really is no place for you to be wandering round at night, even with the moon so full and bright. The silvery light casts shadows over the man’s face, and you catch sight of a scar across his jawline.

“My ranch. Just that way,” you say, eyes flickering towards the small outline of the ranch at the top of the small slope ahead.

Wordlessly, the man mounts his horse again, gloved hand yet again out for you to take. What he expects of you is obvious.

“What about them?” you ask, looking back to the gang.

“Sheriff’ll pick ‘em up,” he replies. He hand still reaches out towards you like he knows you’ll take it.

You do.

He hoists you onto the horse behind him. Up close, he smells like earth and sweat and the smoke of a bonfire. Your arms wrap around his sturdy torso. You get the feeling that the display of skill you’d seen earlier is only a portion of what this strange man is capable of.

You catch yourself wondering what he must look like beneath the dust-coated clothes he wears. For your own sake, you write it off as being flustered from the whole ordeal.

You trot back to the ranch, your grip tight on the man. You realize he might be going slow for your sake. You could get there in half the time if you told him he could ride faster, but you don’t. The slower you go, the more time you have to digest everything that’s happened.

Silence falls between the two of you. You’re thankful he doesn’t ask questions. For a man of his reputation, you can only imagine what he must think of you getting thrown from your horse so easily.

Above head, thunder rolls, filling the lull. People in town talked plenty about the storm that was going to roll through. After the man your arms are wrapped around, that was the hot topic. You won’t admit it out loud, but you’re relieved then to have gotten a ride with him. At least you wouldn’t get caught in the rain.

From a distance, you spot your horse trotting around in front of the stable at home. The man slides off the saddle before holding out his hands to help you off. His gentlemanly charm catches you by surprise. The gruffness of his voice had led you to expect something else.

“Thank you,” you say again.

He regards you carefully with his icy eyes for a moment. “You should be more careful,” he says.

Suddenly, being whisked away by a mysterious stranger loses the allure.

You cross your arms over your chest. “That’s awfully presumptuous for a man who just road in,” you reply. “How do you know I’m not careful?”

“Because I had to scare the Two Face Gang off of you.”

The scowl deepens on your face. “How do you know I’m not usually careful?”

He holds your gaze a second longer than is comfortable. “Two Face isn’t in the business of asking if you’re usually careful,” he replies.

Your eyes narrow to slits at him. His expression has never changed—always a carefully guarded, unreadable frown—but you imagine he’s being smug, or whatever his version of smug is. You don’t appreciate this man you don’t know telling you what to do, and you’re sure as hell not going to let him think otherwise.

You scoff. “You have been here all of a couple of hours. Forgive me if I take whatever it is you think I should or should not do with a grain of salt.”

He stares at you. Already, this man prickles your nerves in a way no one else ever has. You’re not used to silence like this; he’s using it against you, but for what, you’re not quite sure.

“What’s your name, anyway?” you ask. Your weight shifts into one of your hips.

“They call me the Crusader.”

You try not to roll your eyes. “I know that’s what they call you. But what’s your name?”

Silence. Your eyes narrow even more.

“Not much of a conversationalist, are you?”

“Nope.”

You curse under your breath. “Fine. Thank you for helping me. Thank you for the ride home. You can leave.”

He doesn’t budge, nor do you. You want to scream in his face and ask him what he wants. If he’s not going to talk, why is he haunting your doorstep? You’re not sure what kind of response to expect from him with that kind of outburst, though, and you’ve pressed your luck enough as it is for the evening.

Finally, he speaks.

“I’m not...good at this sort of thing,” he says. His fist is clenched at his side, yet you’re not sure it’s meant as a threat.

“What sort of thing?”

He scowls at you like you’re supposed to understand someone you just met.

“What, talking to people?” you add when he doesn’t explain himself. “Yeah, I can kind of tell.” And everything starts to click. The silence isn’t that of a grumpy, worn cowboy—at least not exclusively—but of a man who spends so much time on his own, he no longer knows how to connect with anyone.

“What’s your name?” you ask again. This time, there’s more patience in your voice.

“Bruce,” he replies. For what feels like the first time in the very short period you’ve known him, you get a straight answer. You return the favor by giving him your name. He repeats it like he’s savoring a treat.

His loneliness is a ghost, threatening to haunt you if you turn him away.

Thunder cracks in the sky again. A heavy drop falls from the sky, splattering on your shoulder. The stars are blocked out by the heavy clouds that had been collecting all day. “You aren’t thinking about going out in that, are you?” you ask.

“Just some rain. Never hurt anyone.”

You purse your lips together. There isn’t a single reason you should trust this man enough to invite him into your home while you sleep. But you can’t just let him wander off into the storm, can you?

You don’t want him wandering around soaking wet, shirt clinging to his broad chest, pants tight across his thick thighs He’d catch a cold. Plus, the man is lonely. You can imagine the isolation of the prairies are something that could wear on a person. He could use someone to talk to. He saved your life, after all.

“You should stay,” you say.

He looks surprised. Or maybe his face hasn’t moved and it’s just your imagination. But he doesn’t respond right away. His horse shakes its mane. You turn away from him, grabbing your horse’s reins to lead it to it. You’re in awe when Bruce follows.

“Your horse have a name?” you ask, turning back over your shoulder to look at him. It’s a peace offering, of sorts.

He’s tall. You were able to more passively figure that out when you first saw him, but up close, it’s even harder to ignore. Not only is he tall, but he’s broad. You see manual laborers all day, but Bruce is something else. “I call her Bats.”

You laugh softly. “Why’s that?” you ask. Something about the name tempers your nerves. A name isn’t enough to totally give your trust over to Bruce, but you hear the fondness as he speaks of her. A man who has proven himself to be very gruff, with his reclusive nature, has a soft spot for his horse.

“Found her over in some canyons by a bunch of bats.” He rustles her dark mane. Your lips quirk up into a smile.

Bruce waits at the front of the stable as you stable your horse. You pretend like you aren’t unnerved by his staring.

“You’re welcome to keep her here,” you offer again.

A bright light flashes behind Bruce’s back. A few seconds later, a loud clap of thunder. Bats lets out a startled whinny.

“Alright,” Bruce says, though he makes no pains to sound happy about it.

“You’re not from around here, are you?” you ask. Your knees are pulled to your chest. You watch the flames from your fireplace flicker across Bruce’s face.

He took his hat off when he came inside like a gentleman. Despite his brusque attitude, he has manners. One that seem deeply ingrained in him. You have more questions you’d like to ask, but considering you have to wrestle every piece of information about himself out of him, you decide not to press your luck.

“Nope,” he replies. Flames flicker in his eyes.

“Where are you from?”

The fire crackles. Rain patters against your roof. Thunder rolls in the lull of the storm. Bruce says it’ll come back. You trust him on this.

“Out east.”

You nod. “Did you save people out there, too?”

“No.”

A thin scar runs through his thick, dark brow. He stares into the fireplace like he’s hoping to learn a secret. You feel like you’re interrupting something every time you say something, so this time you don’t.

With how unwilling he is to speak, you worry you’re bothering him. He said he’s not good at talking with people, but you wonder if it’s because he just doesn’t like it. Or maybe he doesn’t like you. So you let the storm and the fire fill the silence.

You don’t mind Bruce’s presence, even if he might mind yours. He’s still a stranger in your home, but you’re becoming more convinced that he isn’t unkind, even if he is maybe unlikable. But unlikable feels like too harsh of a word, even for a harsh person.

“You get lonely out here on your own?” he asks. You hadn’t been expecting for him to ask you anything at all, let alone something so personal. Maybe you are a little lonely; you’d been pondering this man’s loneliness, hadn’t you? You’d guess he was something of an expert.

“I suppose I do.” A beat. “Do you get lonely out there?” You nod towards your rain-speckled window, though you mean the greater world outside of it.

“I’ve got Bats,” he says.

You nod again.

What’s he looking for doing the things he does? Despite your best attempts, he’s still a mystery to you. A hard shell with some sort of kindness buried inside, though what kind and for what reasons, you’re not sure. He helps people. You heard about his reputation in town. He’d helped you. He takes his hat off and helps people down from horses. That has to count for something.

Bruce doesn’t seem like the kind of man to get attached. Beyond that, you shouldn’t be so optimistic or naive to believe he’s the sort of man you want attachments to. A lifestyle like his isn’t one that lends itself to a long life.

“You’re welcome to wash up, if you’d like,” you say.

He raises an eyebrow at you. “Are you saying I smell?”

You shrug your shoulders. “I’m just offering the accommodations I have.” But, truth be told, you were concerned about the dirt you’re sure he’s picked up traveling around. You’re the one who will have to wash the world out of your sheets once he leaves you behind.

He doesn’t argue with you, but there is a brief hesitation. You wonder how much of this is just who he is, or if it’s at all just a result of the world he navigates through. How many strangers has he encountered who took advantage of his trust. But surely he must recognize up against him, you’re not much of a threat. But maybe your attempts at getting to know him are threat enough.

You were the first to turn in. After tossing and turning for a while, worrying about the unattended stranger in your home, you fell asleep.

Darkness still swallows you room when you next open your eyes. You’re not sure what rouses you. The once violent storm has subsided to just pattering rain on your window. The house is still. For a moment, you think Bruce may be asleep, but the stillness feels more firm than that. It’s not a house asleep; it’s a house emptied.

You get up, and slip your robe on. You carefully avoid the creaky floorboards you know by heart as you creep to your door. You turn the knob slowly, not wanting to alert your strange new friend. But as you sneak about your own home, you realize he’s not here. The bed he’d been laying in is empty, sheets turned over.

Your sleep-addled brain wants you to rummage through the house, make sure he didn’t sneak off with anything while you slept. But an unfamiliar worry knots your stomach for a reason you can’t seem to pinpoint. Almost like you’re disappointed he’s already gone.

As you run out into the rain, you decide you’ll blame this all on waking up in the middle of the night. You’re clearly not fully awake just yet. You stagger through the mist and into the stable, expecting to see an empty spot where Bats should be.

Instead, you see Bruce, back against the gate, chin slumped to his chest. His black hat covers his eyes, arms crossed over his chest.

“Oh,” you breathe.

As quiet as you’d tried to be, the soft utterance is enough for Bruce’s head to snap up. His muscles tense, and he looks very suddenly ready for a fight.

His eyes land on you, standing in the frame of the stable in your night clothes, and he relaxes some. “Just you,” he says, laughing to himself. He takes off his hat, and his heavy-lidded eyes land on you. You realize he’s expecting you to say something for interrupting his sleep.

“The storm’s passed. I thought you might have…” You trail off. What would it matter if Bruce had gone off? What difference would that make, and why do you you care?

He looks at Bats’ sleeping form in the hay. “She’s not much used to being alone.” His deep voice is rough with sleep. Your mouth feels dry. “Didn’t want her skittish from the storm.”

A nod doesn’t seem to be a sufficient reply, but what are you supposed to say? The kindness of this man sleeping out in your barn when he has a bed inside leaves you speechless.

“Right.” Your gaze follows him as he stands up.

“Everything alright?” he asks. He takes a half step towards you.

You nod again, your feet deciding to move up a step in return. “Yeah. Just…”

Just what, you don’t know. This is another silence with Bruce you don’t know how to fill. You watched this man outride the Two Face Gang. You watched him best Two Face himself when you’ve heard the whole town talk about how fierce he was supposed to be. And he’s sleeping out in your stable because he doesn’t want his horse to be spooked.

He’s a few feet away from you. Too far. Even when you sat beside the fire together, you were still too far away from him. You can’t stand it anymore.

You cross the stable, stopping only a foot away from him. You could reach out and brush your fingertips along his jaw if you had the nerve to raise your hand. He doesn’t step any closer, but right now, his attention is only on you. You feel naked before him, stripped just from his survey. Your breathing grows heavy just from the way he looks at you.

His dark, heavy brows only add to the intensity of focus. His chest rises and falls; you realize now he’s down to his undershirt, the cotton thin and worn. You catch sight of the dark chest hair sprawling across his skin.

Finally, just when you feel like you’re going to explode, you wrap your arms around him, your face angled towards his lips, hovering just before them. He doesn’t look away. His gaze is fixed on you, but he never makes any sign he wants you to stop.

His large palms reach for your waist, keeping you firmly in front of him. Your heart leaps. You want his hands all over you. You want to relish in him, marvel he is. Make this lonely man feel a little less lonely.

His lips are dry as yours brush over them. Riding out in the sun and the cold is tough on the skin; you know that well. You wonder what the last real taste of tenderness this man has experienced is.

If Bruce needs another place to surrender, let your body be it. Let him find peace with you, even if for a fleeting moment.

Finally, you press a soft, chaste kiss to his lips to test the waters. His fingertips curl into your clothes as if that touch alone would reassure you’d kiss him again. He may not have much to say, but even buried beneath all the stoicism, you find he needs touch just as much as anyone else.

You wonder how long it’s been since he’s touched someone else with tenderness.

Your drive comes from the eagerness of his response. You like to feel needed, too. Like knowing there’s a purpose you have here. You have a way to thank him for helping you, something more than a roof over his head. Something less temporary, because at least when he rides away, he’ll have something to remember you by.

When you kiss him again, you’re more eager, more confident of your goal. Bruce responds in kind. He kisses you like a man starved. You know almost nothing about him, and yet, you feel as if you understand him. Maybe it’s just the close call with a bad crowd. Maybe it’s just the fact that a man so worn by the weather shouldn’t be that gorgeous, and you just want a reason for wanting him this badly. Whatever it is, you feel like he might understand you, too.

He leans against the stable, holding you to his chest as a hand cups the back of your head. Your fingers fold into his hair, wishing you could wrap yourself around him fully. Wishing there was a way to get rid of all of the space between the two of you.

Your teeth graze his lip, poking the boundaries again. His grip on you tightens even more. You take that as a positive reaction and gently bite down on his lower lip, pulling back some.

By the time you pull away, you’re breathless and dizzy, drunk off his presence.

You grab him by the front of his shirt, tugging him out of the stable, still crowding in his space. If Bruce minds, he certainly isn’t giving any signs. He guides you as you blindly walk backwards through the ranch, his arm hooked around your waist to keep you upright.

The security of his touch has you pulling him back to you, crashing into a kiss yet again as the brim of his hat keeps your lips sheltered from the rain. He keeps the both of you moving. You let him; he’s been inside the house now. You know he knows where he’s going.

And soon, you feel your back hit the door. You reach behind you, not bothering to look as you fumble for the door handle, one hand still gripping onto Bruce like you can’t stand to lose him. He has you pressed onto the door. When you finally find the handle, the door swings open. On a different day, you would have fallen flat on your back. Bruce catches you. Not even that, because he’s holding you, you don’t even begin to fall.

You manage to tear apart long enough for him to pull his shirt off over his head. Your eyes widen at the sight of his scarred skin. Dipping in some parts, puckering in others. Carefully, you run a hand up the skin, fingertips brushing over the coarse hair on his chest.

There isn’t time for more observation before he’s working your clothes off as well. When you’re clothes are scattered all around the room, he pulls you back to him. Warm skin presses into warm skin. The feeling of him even just like this is intoxicating. You could bury yourself in him and be the most peaceful you’ve ever been in your life.

Bruce doesn’t resist as you turn him around, pushing him down onto the bed. It squeaks with his weight. He looks up at you, sitting off the end of the old mattress. You climb on top of him, straddling his lap.

He holds you against his chest. His lips brush over the skin of your neck. You sigh, fingertips tangling in the ends of his hair yet again. You feel a growing bulge against your thigh that has the corners of your mouth pulling into a smirk.

You grind your hips down, breath hitching at the rise of pleasure. Bruce sighs against your skin. The rush goes to your head; here you have a very skilled man with a reputation for being unstoppable in your bed. He’s surrendered himself to you, and you imagine that’s not something he often does.

Once more, your hips press down into his. Your head falls back as you let out a soft breathy moan. Bruce groans into your skin as his kiss trails down your chest. His calloused hands run up the exposed skin of your legs, gripping onto your hips. When you don’t move, he moves you himself. He grinds against you while rolling your hips towards his.

You let out another pleasured cry. Your nails bite into his shoulder, and his breath picks up. Figures he’s the kind of guy who wants it to hurt at least a little.

Bruce rocks you against him, but it’s just not enough. Not close enough, not full enough. You need more of him. You pull back slightly. The hand that isn’t clawing at his skin pulls his face back from your chest. Your nails drag across his back as you slide off his lap, bending down to undo his pants.

His cock springs up. The outline of it presses up against the thin cotton of his drawers. Warmth pools in the pit of your stomach. Your ache for him comes to a desperate mount.

When it’s nothing but the two of you stripped bare, you rest your hand back on his chest, pushing him down into the mattress. He smirks and goes down willingly, cock twitching as he stares up at you.

The mattress dips as you lean a knee onto the bed, moving to straddle him yet again. His eyes are intense in the dim light. Steely eyes fixed to you with such focus, you’d maybe be unnerved if having all his attention to yourself didn’t fill your stomach with butterflies.

You wrap your hand around his cock as you slowly sink down onto him. The weight of your head tips back yet again as you adjust to how very full he makes you feel. Burying him inside of you alone is enough to have you seeing stars; his cock hits a spot deep inside of you, something blinding you can’t quite reach on your own.

Bruce’s hands dig into your hips again like he wants to take charge, but he holds back.

When you get used to the sensation of him inside you, you pull his hands away from your hips, threading your fingers between his.

“Relax, cowboy,” you whisper, your cunt fluttering around him. You take his hands and pin them next to his head. “Lemme say thank you for saving my life.” You lean down, so slick you slide up his cock with ease. You feel him jerk against your walls as you press a soft kiss just below his ear.

You’re positive it would take no effort for him to flip you over, take you exactly the way he wants to, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t even struggle against you. He’s at your mercy, but only because he’s allowing himself to be.

Oddly, you feel honored.

You sit back up, hands sliding down Bruce’s scarred arms, pussy engulfing his cock yet again. A breath catches in your throat as you hit that same spot deep inside. Your palms rest on his chest, fingers splayed out, and you begin to rock your hips against him. He doesn’t protest the weight of your hands. His palms ghost over the skin of your arms, sliding up your back to wrap into your hair. There’s no escaping his gaze except in the moments your eyelids flutter with bliss.

Grinding against him has a sweet warmth building in your stomach. You groan and sigh as you ride him, and he starts to smirk.

“You sound beautiful, darlin’,” he says, pulling you to his lips again. Your cunt is still wrapped around his tip as he cups your jaw with one hand, the other smoothing down the skin of your back. From this angle, you can’t sink back down onto him, and your pussy feels woefully empty,

But Bruce shifts suddenly, legs bent, and begins thrusting into you. His lips don’t dare to leave yours, muffling your gratified cry. He grips your ass, lowering you onto his cock as he thrusts up, getting deeper than even before.

You gasp, knowing you won’t be able to keep back your climax at this rate.

“Let’s see if you can handle some bucking better now than you did earlier,” he growls. You’d feel embarrassed that he’d seen your horse throw you if you weren’t so cock drunk. But it’s just enough to embolden you.

“I told you earlier, Mr. Crusader,” you say, swatting his hands away. “I know how to take care of myself.” You lean back onto your knees again, bouncing on his cock. His hands run over your chest, your ass, whatever he can reach, but he doesn’t seem to be able to get enough.

You can relate.

“Sit up,” you order breathlessly.

“Yes ma’am,” he complies with a playful smirk. The contrast between the gruff man who’d swept you away from danger is staggering. Now, you would even go so far as to say he seems to be enjoying himself.

His chest presses up against yours. You crash your lips against his as you ride him. He winds one arm around your waist again, the other back in your hair. For leverage, you keep your palms onto his shoulders. Your teeth graze over his bottom lip again before biting down. His grip only tightens.

The pleasure is mounting. Your rhythm begins to get sloppier, less steady as you try to chase your orgasm.

“C’mon, sweetheart. Lemme see you take care of yourself,” he teases as you pull away from the kiss, working him deep inside of you.

Your nails dig back into his skin at the words. Your breath catches again. You grind down onto him at just the right angle and everything seems to fall away.

You cry out. If Bruce wasn’t there, you’d fall just like before, but he catches you as you release. Your cunt squeezes around him, and he growls again.

“That’s right. You got one more for me?” he asks. As you ride out the afterglow of your orgasm, Bruce takes your hips again, using his strength to keep you sinking down onto his cock.

“Uh-huh…” you pant, nodding as you give the work over to him.

With his hands on your ass, he moves you up and down onto him. His grip is secure. With what little focus you have at this point, you find yourself fixated by watching the muscles of his arm work your body weight with ease.

Without a break between your first orgasm and the now furious pace at which Bruce fucks himself with your cunt, you feel another climax approaching. Bruce knows. His focus has never waned from your face, infatuated with the details of your expression as you ride him.

Now that he’s doing all the work, you take your hands and cup his cheeks, your lips finding his again in a messy kiss. You’re ravenous for him, wired off of your own bliss. If you don’t ground yourself with him, this seemingly endlessly grounded man, you’d fly away.

Bruce bites down on your lip now, a forceful grip that has you moaning.

His hips stutter. You feel it just as you’re teetering over the edge. One hand moves from his cheek, tugging onto his hair. He moans, and the sound alone pushes you until you’re throbbing around him yet again, body shivering with the force of your release.

Bruce marvels at your open mouthed cries, eyes pinched shut. He slams you down onto his cock, his grip almost bruising as you feel him twitch and cum inside of you.

There’s a beat as you both float on your high, still clinging to each other. Your heart hammers against his chest. Bruce breathes against you. It’s still not close enough, but it’s the closest you’d likely get.

You duck your head into his neck, resting your forehead against his sturdy shoulder. Half-moon indents linger on his skin from your nails. You just smile.

“How’s that for a thank you?” you ask when you finally catch your breath.

He chuckles softly, the tips of his fingers brushing against the skin of your back. “Well, next time you’re in trouble, just call for me. Me and Bats’ll come running.”

AN: huge shout out to @janybabyy, @fic-over-cannon, and @youknowwhoiamperiod for helping me with brainstorming this 💛 i appreciate it big time

On the Quieter Nights

Richard Grayson x Jealous! reader

Lots of angst😁I hope whoever requested this is happy.

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Gotham was always alive, even in the dead of night. The city that never slept had a heartbeat of its own, its dark alleys and towering buildings all wrapped up in a never-ending cycle of crime and hope. But tonight, it was too loud, too close, and your thoughts kept racing in directions you couldn’t control.

You sat on the balcony of Dick’s apartment, staring out at the sprawling skyline, your fingers nervously tracing the rim of the coffee cup in your hands. The air was crisp, cool against your skin, but it couldn’t quell the heat in your chest—the gnawing jealousy, the hurt, the confusion.

He had promised he’d be home soon, but you already knew what that meant. Soon meant hours. It always meant hours. He was always out there, fighting in the shadows, protecting Gotham with the team—Barbara included.

Barbara.

You could never escape her. She was always there—somewhere in the background of every conversation, every story, every mission. It wasn’t like you didn’t trust Dick; it wasn’t like you didn’t know how much he loved you. He did love you, didn’t he?

But the way he looked at her… the way his smile lingered when her name was mentioned, the way his voice softened when he talked about her intelligence, her strength, the way they fit together in a way you would never understand—it all ate away at you, bit by bit. Every moment you shared with him, you felt the echo of her presence. It wasn’t enough anymore. You weren’t enough.

You heard the door creak open behind you, but you didn’t turn. You couldn’t bring yourself to face him, not yet. Not when your heart felt so raw, so exposed.

"Hey, beautiful," Dick’s voice broke through the silence, and you could hear the exhaustion in it. You could always hear it when he returned from patrol. "You’re up late."

"Couldn’t sleep," you said softly, avoiding his gaze as he stepped closer, his warm presence filling the space around you. You couldn’t help it; you still felt the pull to him, even when it felt like you were slipping further away.

"Everything okay?" Dick asked, his hand resting gently on your shoulder, a simple gesture that once brought comfort but now only seemed to remind you of the things you couldn’t escape.

You didn’t answer immediately, unsure how to voice the weight pressing on your chest. "How’s Barbara?" you finally managed to whisper, your voice so small you almost didn’t recognize it.

Dick frowned, confusion etching his features as he sat beside you, his arm brushing against yours. "Barbara’s fine, same as always." He paused, looking at you, his expression softening. "Why do you ask? You know she’s part of the team. She’s… she’s family."

You clenched your hands around your cup, trying to steady your breath. "Yeah. She’s family," you repeated bitterly, the words slipping out before you could stop them. You felt his hand tighten on your shoulder, but you couldn’t look at him.

"Baby, what’s going on?" His voice had a gentle pleading edge now, a hint of worry in his tone. He didn’t get it, did he? He didn’t understand how much it hurt to see her so effortlessly wrapped around his life.

"Do you ever think about her?" You heard yourself ask before you could stop. "I mean, really think about her? The way she… she doesn’t have to try to be in your life. She’s already there."

Dick blinked, clearly startled by your words. "What are you talking about? Of course, I think about her. She’s been through a lot, babe. She’s part of my world. But you’re in my world now. You’re the one I’m with. You’re the one I want."

His words were soothing, but they didn’t feel like they were for you. They felt like empty promises, like things he was saying because he didn’t know what else to say. Your heart twisted painfully in your chest, and you couldn’t stop the tears from falling.

"I don’t want to be second place," you whispered, barely able to hear yourself over the rush of blood in your ears. "I don’t want to keep feeling like I’m competing with someone who’s already everything to you."

Dick’s eyes softened, and he reached for you, pulling you into his arms, but you stiffened. He didn’t know how to fix this. He didn’t know how to make you feel like you mattered more than she did. Because to him, you did matter, but to you, it always felt like Barbara’s shadow loomed over everything you did together.

"You’re not second place," he said quietly, but there was uncertainty in his voice now. "You’re everything to me, beautiful. Please, believe me."

You wanted to believe him. God, you wanted to believe him so badly. But how could you, when every time he spoke of Barbara, his eyes lit up with something you would never have? How could you believe him when you saw the way his smile lingered when she was around, the way he held her a little too long, the way he called her family, as if that was supposed to make it better?

"I see the way you look at her," you whispered, your voice breaking. "I see the way you’re different with her. She’s the one who’s always been there, Dick. She doesn’t have to try to be a part of your world. She’s already in it. I’m just… I’m just the girl who gets to spend a few hours with you before you go off again."

"Baby, please," Dick’s voice cracked, and he pulled you closer, his arms tight around you as if he could hold all your pain in that single embrace. "I love you. You’re not just a few hours. You’re not just an afterthought. You mean everything to me. I swear, I only want you."

But the more he whispered those words, the more you felt like they were just… words. They didn’t change the fact that you would never be her. They didn’t erase the history they shared, the years of partnership, of friendship, of everything that made her so deeply ingrained in his life.

"I’m so sorry," you whispered, your tears falling freely now, soaking his shirt. "I don’t know how to be enough for you when she’s always going to be there."

Dick stayed silent for a long time, and when he finally spoke again, it was soft, almost like he was afraid of breaking something inside you. "You don’t have to be enough for me, sweet heart. You’re already everything. But I don’t know how to make you see that. I don’t know how to make you believe me."

You pulled away from him, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand, feeling too small, too fragile. "I wish I could believe you, Dick. But I don’t know how. I don’t know how to keep pretending that I’m not just a shadow in your life, living in her light."

Dick’s expression faltered, his blue eyes filled with pain and confusion. "I don’t want you to feel this way. I never wanted to hurt you. But I don’t know how to fix this…"

You looked at him for a long moment, the ache in your chest unbearable, before you whispered, "Maybe you don’t need to fix it, Dick. Maybe you just need to let me go."

He stared at you, eyes wide, as if he hadn’t heard you correctly. "What?"

"I’m tired of feeling like I’m competing for your love," you whispered, voice breaking. "I’m tired of being second place. I don’t want to be the girl who always comes after her. I want to be enough, but I don’t know if I can keep pretending anymore."

The silence stretched between you, suffocating. And when Dick reached for you again, you couldn’t bring yourself to meet his gaze.

"Please, babe," he begged, his voice raw. "Please don’t say that. I love you. I need you."

You shook your head, turning away from him, your heart breaking in a way you couldn’t put into words. "You’ve always needed her more, Dick. And I… I just can’t keep living in her shadow."

As the door softly clicked shut behind you, you knew it was over. And maybe, somewhere deep down, you had always known it would be.

-----------------------------

Masterlist

NSFW Alphabet for Sebastian Sallow

Warnings - 18 + smut

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex) Right after sex, Sebastian is exhausted and unable to form many coherent thoughts. He is ready to snuggle right up with you and pass out.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s) His favorite body part of his is his arms, he likes to think that he's decently muscular with bulky biceps. He knows that if he's playing with you no matter what you'll probably get a good look at them and he hopes you enjoy the way they look. Sebastian loves thighs, squeezing them, kissing them, biting them, you name it. They're so versatile and plush and he's definitely thought about just rutting his cocking back and forth between your shut thighs to get some friction.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically) He's a slut for wanting to taste your cum. He loves it if he's the one who's initiated the reaction from you with his hands or his mouth, but even if he's watching you take care of yourself he's there to lick it all up until you're clean. For m!partner he loves getting your cum on his face or straight into his mouth.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) Sebastian's dirty secret is that he likes to use the underwear that you wore for the day in his masturbation endeavors. (yes he's that guy)

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?) He's probably had a reasonable amount of casual encounters, but nothing that was ever truly kinky or more than an easy way for him to get off with somebody else's help. He's charming and knows how to utilize it to get what he wants even if it were just a quick handjob or blowjob.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying) Entire headcannon just for this here. In general either missionary or face-off one of you is in the other's lap glued together. He likes being close to his partner and able to see all their expression and feel every move their body makes.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.) Goofy or serious just depends on the mood. If it's a situation where one of you is feeling particularly dominant, he usually takes his role seriously. If it's softer lovemaking he's definitely likely to say something silly and have you giggling throughout.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) He has fairly thick pubic hair that he does attempt to keep neat since there is so much of it. He has a dusting of hair on his chest and lighter-colored hair on his arms and legs.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect) Sebastian is never particularly romantic during sex. The best you'll get out of him is him being needy for you and begging, telling you sweet things to try and convince you to give in and let him have his way.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon) If he's unable to have you, he's masturbating a lot and driving himself crazy doing so. He takes off all of his clothes and tries to run his hands over his body as you would, but it's never the same. It leaves him very frustrated.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks) He likes being dominant or submissive, but enjoys this over a more equal dynamic during sex. He enjoys being choked and in turn likes watching you choke or gag on his cock. Definitely interested in impact play and humiliation.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do) He's the master of finding secluded areas for sex that could get you in a lot of trouble if anyone found you. He enjoys outdoor sex quite a bit for the same kind of reason, that you always could be caught or overheard.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going) He's easily turned on when you're slightly angry with him. He likes to push your buttons and find your breaking point until you let him take control and make it up to you or you just take control and knock him down a peg.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs) Really the only thing he probably wouldn't give a go is things related to certain other bodily functions (don't make me say it)

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) He likes giving and receiving equally. He loves being able to please his partner and taste them. When he's receiving he loves how you look stuffed full of his cock, drooling and crying. That does more for him than how good it feels on its own.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.) Usually hard and fast, but he slows down to make things last longer.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.) It's not a preference of his, but it goes along with the idea of sex in risky places. If an opportunity arises he's going to take it.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.) Most definitely willing to experiment and try almost anything. He's so addicted to you that anything you asked of him he would try at least once before deciding how he felt about it.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?) He can probably last for one or two rounds especially if it's been a little longer since you've been together. But he's definitely going to be exhausted and overstimulated after round two.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?) He's open to the idea of things, especially paddles and whips, items that can inflict some manageable pain. He really enjoys having those types of things used on him. He would probably have something to use anally on himself if it wasn't already a part of your anatomy to do so.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease) If he can tell you're riled up, he'll spend a lot of time teasing you. Eventually, he'll get to a point where he's feeling animalistic himself and can't do it any longer, but he'll take as much of your time as he can. And then be a huge brat when you do the same thing to him.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.) Low, raspy whispers and sinful, loud groans. Not much in between. He's a sensitive lad and can't keep his mouth shut.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes) Detailed information about his dick here. He's got a pretty bulky body type with thick, wide arms and thighs. He's got a soft tummy with a nice trail of hair leading down to his pelvis. He has a very soft and sizeable bum. He's about 6 inches hard, obviously uncircumcised, but girthy.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?) He's a man fueled by a lot of raw and terrible emotions which means his testosterone is going wild and he's got a pretty high sex drive. If you express you need a break or need him to back off, he'll 100% respect that, but be very pent up in the meantime.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) He's ready to conk out, rest, recover, repeat.

miguel's fav position is def mating press, but what about hobie. do u think he likes you on top so he can touch everywhere or on all fours, using his size to press against you?

hobie’s favorite position is… baby i’m drawing a blank i feel like he likes every single position like he just loves being inside you but if i had to choose… it’s either missionary with your legs over his shoulders or with you on top cause his dirty talk goes crazy with you on top 💯 you bein in control turns him on BAD so he’s literally encouraging you and telling you to take what you need and to ride him “just like that” and to “show me how much you love this dick, yeah?”

(bonus! he also rlly likes when you talk to him while he’s fucking your brains out. he’s all about your pleasure so over time he’s taught you to tell him when he’s doing something you rlly like. say he angles his hips a certain way. he presses up against your spot n you go crazy and start saying shit like “yeah, right there, feels so good” … he will go insane. makes sure he presses against that spot with every thrust and he’s moaning “yeah? right there? tell me how fuckin’ good it feels, love.”)

Mallowsweet Muses PART 3 - Sebastian Sallow/Ominis Gaunt/Female! Reader

Summary: Sebastian had been right all along… three heads really were better than two.

The OT3 sexcapades have arrived and now I’m gonna go crawl in a hole

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: 18+, aged up characters, explicit sexual content, F/M/M, polyamory, rough sex, gratuitous smut 

Full fic can be found here on Ao3 ! Part 1 and Part 2 are linked here for anyone interested on Tumblr.

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