somewhere, in a better gotham, the joker was born a woman, with eyes like candy apples, smooth skin. babysoft.
in the gotham we know, the joker fell into a pit of toxic waste and turned green with envy. in this gotham, the better one, the joker is a tall, thin lady walking down the street. “smile, pretty” follows in her footsteps. when she stands at open mic laughter nights, she’s heckled from the crowd. they won’t smile for her but they resent her frown.
her mother says that her best feature is her body. the joker spends hours staring in mirrors. picturing a trophy-wife kind of life. smile, pretty. smile pretty. smile. pretty. she’s sixteen the first time she tapes her lips up, just to see if she can teach her skin to learn the shape better. your teeth are your best feature. in the wild, smiling is a sign of fear.
she’s twenty and lives alone with her dog and tries to be okay with that. another night where she’s losing money on transportation, but she goes to the open mic anyway. the guy before her talks about airline food. she gets on the stage and immediately booed. and it’s years like this, in a pattern, in the weave of her passion, so that every night is thrown beer bottles and shouting and comments that make her sick to her stomach and being told she’s nothing special and being told women aren’t funny and being told her voice is shrill and ugly and being told when she’s too animated that she’s crazy and being told when she’s too stiff that she’s boring and being asked out by every single sleeze in the zip code and being shouted at when she says no and the neverending tumble of it because maybe tomorrow will be better, maybe tomorrow will be better, maybe tomorrow
he comes up on stage with her and soaks her shirt in beer. now that’s a show! the man calls. he gets cheers. she doesn’t cry, just walks out the back door before doing something stupid. the manager pats her on the head while she leaves. it’s okay, darling. he looks her over. i don’t get it. a body like yours? you should be an exotic dancer. comedy isn’t for everybody. you’re not funny, sweetie.
she’s not funny. not funny. not funny. the words turn alarm bells. the one thing she’s supposed to be talented at. the one thing she loves is just to make people laugh. and she’s not even funny.
hey you know what’s kind of funny? the way it feels at the bottom. how flat everything turns. how unreal. she skims like a rock. your body is your best feature. she tries again on monday. “you know what’s funny? i thought about murder the other day”. don’t we all, sweetie. on the bus, come home with me. on the street, why aren’t you smiling.
maybe some people are born close to the camel’s back, maybe some people have just always been looking for the straw. it’s too much in either direction. she goes home and smears makeup on her skin. tears her hair off. dyes it green, a shock, to match her eyes and spite and envy at men who can tell the same jokes and get laughter for it where she gets nothing and nothing and nothing, where she is pushed off of stages, where she is mocked.
well, isn’t it her turn to do the mocking.
in this story, in this better gotham where vigilante is sometimes good, sometimes a few letters from villain: who will stop her? in this life, when harley walks in, the two are different, best friends, sugar-on-pie because isn’t it true the world has it out for women. in this life, when harley shows up with hyenas, the joker thinks about the wild and the laws of it and says, “oh, of course, let them in”. in this life the violence has a name.
so i recently attended a concert and had a bit of a reflective moment during the opening song. i’ve spent 24 years bottling up something that i’ve always known about myself out of fear of rejection and change. but in that moment, soaked in sweat and cheap beer, i suddenly realized how tired of lying i was.
this past week of coming out to my family and coworkers was equal parts terrifying and exciting. but saying “i am transgender” got easier every time i said it. i know that i have a rough road ahead of me but i’m gonna ride this high as long as i can.
~Y/N and Dean are abducted after a night at the bar and thrown into a maze of horrors. Can Sam track down his brother and girlfriend in time? Can they even hold on that long?~
Dean, Reader; Sam
Series Warnings: Angst. Show level violence. Graphic gore and blood. Extreme situations that may cause anxiety and fear. Character injury and trauma. (Extra Warnings in the tags)
A/N: Thank you to everyone for joining me for this story. I have seen and loved all your comments and feedback and I truly appreciate each and every one of you taking the time to read. <3 I hope you enjoyed. Please let me know what you think…
~Feedback is the crack that keeps the Writing coming back~
ESCAPE Masterlist ~ My Masterlist
Chapter Thirteen: Stairway to Heaven -
Dean gripped Y/N’s hand tightly as they walked to the door. Their bodies were sore and near to breaking; their minds and spirits not far behind. But they had one thing, one thing that was pushing them onward… that luminescent red sign.
This was it, this was the end; their horrid ordeal was coming to a close, and soon they would be back home where they belonged. In the end it didn’t matter what had led them there, the hows and whys didn’t even ring in their thoughts any longer; they just wanted the fresh air, the sun, and the safety of their beds.
Dean gave Y/N a quick smile, and together they placed their hands on the push bar. The door gave instantly, drenching them in glowing white light; the sun come to meet them finally. With hopeful eyes closed tight, they stepped out of the basement and into the light.
Author’s Note: You guys thought I was joking about writing something about me hating that Dylan smokes… never think that I am kidding (except, always assume that I am kidding…). This will be a short series. I’m imposing a limit on myself. Whatever. Don’t read it. It’s dumb. This will likely be the only Dylan shit I ever write. Okay byeeee.
“This is a lot of drunk people… this is just a lot of people in general, and I feel like some people have recognized me, an-“
“Dyl.. you wanted to come with me.”
“Well, I didn’t want to just sit at the house all day.”
“You’re going to be fine. You have sunglasses and a hat and some of this crap.” Julia rubbed her fingers against the stubble on his face in an aggressive, teasing sisterly way. “No one’s going to recognize you, why don’t we get you a drink so you can chill out.”
Dylan rolled his eyes, regardless of the fact that he knew his sister would not be able to see it behind his jet black Ray Ban sunglasses. He sighed and followed her through the throngs of sweaty and beer-soaked bodies towards the bar. He sidled up next to her and pressed his elbows against the bar.
“That’s cool.” He said sarcastically, pursing his lips, as he removed his elbows from the beer-soaked counter, and peeled a sticky bottle cap off of his skin. His head whipped around when he heard someone say his older sister’s name excitedly.
Summary: Tomorrow came, as it inevitably does, and now the reader has to think about her relationship with Dean. But what will happen if they have to share more than a bed?
Author’s Note: Okay guys, here’s part two of the Warmth Series! I can’t thank you all enough for the amazing response the first part of this got and I hope you guys enjoy this just as much! There will be either one or two more parts of this series, depending on how many words it takes me to write what’s left of the story. If you want to be tagged in the next few parts of the please add yourself to This List or send me an Ask. Feedback is appreciated, and enjoy!
P.S. I’m going to stop using the Pond Taglist soon so if you’re on there and want to keep getting tagged in my fics please add yourself to my tag list. Thanks!
If you would like to read any of my other fics please check out myMasterlist!
*Gif is not mine, all gifs used on my blog are from Google Images.*
It was tomorrow.
When you’d opened your eyes this morning you became acutely aware of the unfamiliar weight still around your middle, Dean’s muscled arm caging you in in a way that - despite your best efforts - wasn’t unwelcome, but you knew had to be stopped as soon as possible.
Getting involved with a hunter was dangerous and only ever ended one way: badly. He’d die and leave you alone, or you’d die and leave him, and no matter what happened someone was getting hurt – whether fatally or not. You couldn’t risk emotional attachment or compromise your ability to think rationally – which would most certainly happen if you had a relationship clouding your judgment.
Mercifully Dean woke up and rolled over at that point, stretching his arms and yawning. Then he flung a pillow at Sam to wake him up.
And now here you were, sitting in the back seat of the impala and heading back to the room with the beds - the two beds – ready to do it all over again. You promised yourself tonight you would be stronger, promised tonight you would keep your distance and stay away from the man on the other side of the bed, from the man you loved despite your best efforts not to. But you knew the truth. If he pulled you close, if he offered his warmth, your fortitude would crumble and you wouldn’t reject him.
Imagine the reader/S/O has crushed (but she's shy) on Ignis for so long but hears a rumour he is fond of someone else so she gets drunk for the first time and ends up running into him and what would his reaction be?
Okie here we go, alcohol cw below. This was a drabble that ran long, oops.
Drunk reader runs into Ignis
You’d been crushing on Ignis for a while now. Something about that always calm expression, those sharp green eyes- Astrals, that voice- drew you to him like a moth to a flame. You could never bring yourself to say anything to him though, just being around him felt like a gift. But that day you’d heard that he had been having a quiet word with Gladio about asking a girl out- someone who’d been on his mind for ages.
Honestly? It hurt far more than you were willing to admit. You had never told him how you felt but it hurt all the same. So when your friends invited you out for a drink at the end of the day you drank ever so slightly more than you usually did. About four tequila shots more than you usually did, and you could feel the difference. You were usually smart about your limits but this time you just wanted some of the cheer you could hear from the other bar patrons.
It didn’t work. The alcohol loosened the knot in your stomach but all that came out was tears. Your friends handed you napkins as you cried your heart out onto the bar, too drunk to care about their concerned looks. You realised about twelve napkins in that this was not helping. You waited for your breathing to calm down long enough to ask the bar man to call you a taxi, then said your goodbyes and staggered outside to wait for it.
You had just perched on a low wall to wait for it when you heard a familiar voice say your name. A very familiar voice. You thought if you ignored it, it might go away, that the beautiful painful voice would not be behind you. The tequila made that easy to believe, until you felt a hand on your arm and had to look up into those piercing green eyes. Ignis said your name again, concerned this time, and for the first time you realised how you must look with your eye makeup left on those bar napkins and your face puffy from crying. Shit.
“What happened? Are you alright, do you need a ride home?” Astrals, it was all you could do to to nod and accept a gloved hand up without bursting back into tears. He was so kind, so perfect, and he cared for someone else. The car journey was tense, and you couldn’t look at him. At least until he spoke again.
“What were you thinking? Alone, in that state… Anything could have happened.” When you turned to look at him, his brows were drawn together in a stern line, worry written in every angle of his face. You couldn’t lie to him- you didn’t think your brain worked well enough to try, anyway.
“I drank too much… Had a bad day.”
“I can see that.”
“I… found out that someone I care for, cares for someone else.” Glancing over, you saw Ignis’ hands tighten on the steering wheel. You knew that below the gloves, his knuckles would be bone white.
“I… see. This is not a healthy or safe way to deal with this sort of thing.” Ever the gentleman, even when he was calling you a silly dumbass. You could even ignore the fact that he was the one you were drinking to forget. As he pulled into your driveway, that fact hit you again: you were in love with him, and he was in love with someone else. The tears were coming again, and you couldn’t stop them, and his arms were around you. You couldn’t stop them and his shirt smelled like him and this wasn’t helping but you couldn’t pull away.
“I can’t stand to see you hurting like this, you know.” His usually calm voice sounded almost angry. “To see your smile gone and not be able to help. Like someone has knocked the sun out of the sky.” You couldn’t hold back a snort at that.
“Now I know you’re making fun of me. I’m more like a low-energy bulb someone kicked in.” That earned a wry smile, at least.
“Well then I wouldn’t mind having words with the one who did the kicking.” His banter was so easy, so natural, that you responded without thinking.
“Talking to yourself is a bit sad, you know.” Shit. Shit. Realisation crossed his face and he stopped you before you could say anything. Was that pity or horror on his face? You couldn’t decide which would be worse. You reached for the door to escape but he stopped you with a gentle hand on your arm.
“The ‘person you cared for’ is… me?” You couldn’t trust your voice but nodded anyway.
“And you heard I cared for someone?” You nodded again, knowing that the tears were coming again.
“And you went out drinking because… that hurt you so much that you did this?” Why was he doing this? Why was he making you say this? You nodded. He put his arms around you again, his glasses cool against your face as he spoke softly into your ear.
“Astrals, I’m sorry. It was you. I was going to ask you to dinner, I never would have thought…” You didn’t know what surprised you more, the things he was saying or the fact that he, the great Ignis Scientia, was lost for words. The surprise made way for giddiness as what he’d said sunk in, that the person from the rumours had been you, that you’d cried a whole days worth of eye makeup into beer soaked napkins over yourself.
“Dinner… sounds great.” You managed to sniffle. You walked out of your house the next morning with your keys, your first hangover, and your first date with one Ignis Scientia.
A request oh heck oh boy it’s been a while! I know both of these have been done before by others but here’s my take. (Sorry for the weird message crop my phone doesn’t like to crop beyond a certain size)
Preston - smells like hickory smoke and the wood varnish from the museum he got his uniform, and if you get close enough, he smells like apples and sweet grass and nature in the freshest sense. He especially likes baked foods, and mutfruit pie is a favorite.
Piper - smells like ink and eraser shavings, and worn leather and old newsprint. Her favorite foods are Takahashi’s noodles and sweet rolls, of course.
MacCready - smells like cigarettes and gunpowder, and a cheap aftershave he looted from a department store. It wouldn’t be an unpleasant smell, if he didn’t put too much on. His favorite foods are anything processed he doesn’t have to cook, from Salisbury steak to fancy lad cakes.
Cait - smells like whiskey, but not as strongly as you might think. She smells like sweat and leather, but not unpleasantly, with a sweeter note like hay. Her favorite food is anything that can be piled in a bowl, mixed together, and eaten in one go.
Deacon - doesn’t have a smell you can pin down. It’s always changing. He has 20 different colognes (and perfumes!) And use a different one every day. He’s been known to rub dirt or plants on himself to mask smells. He commits to the sneaky. His favorite food is, like he says, mirelurk omelettes, though anything mirelurks is good in his book.
Curie - smells pleasantly and naturally perfumed, because she mixes all of her perfumes herself from flowers. If she’s spent all day working, she may have a lingering scent of chalk or sulfur from the lab. Her favorite foods are anything with lots of fresh vegetables, gourds and tatos and melons especially.
Nick - smells like old copper pennies, and cigarettes, and a tasteful amount of a classy cologne he used to wear when he was human. His favorite foods he ate before the war were any good homemade Italian meals, especially lasagna or spaghetti and meatballs, though he did have a soft spot for the occasional corner hot dog stand.
Ada - smells like motor oil, and the chemical ozone smell left in the air after a laser blast. She doesn’t eat.
Codsworth - smells like hot metal, lemon cleaner, and clean burning thruster fuel. He doesn’t eat but his favorite thing to cook is any large roast, especially radstag. It gives him a sense of pride to get it just right.
Danse - smells like iron and rubber, and like homemade soap. Nothing flowery or spicy, just honest and clean. Though the brotherhood gruel in the mess hall is anything but flavorful, he associates it with safety and home and it’s a comfort food to him.
X6-88 - smells clinical like a hospital. All of his clothes were manufactured below ground in the institute and he wears no scents. He claims to have no favorite food but like all Gen 3s he harbors a secret love for fancy lad snack cakes.
Old Longfellow - smells very heavily of whiskey and like wool coats stored in mothballs. There’s also a lingering scent of fish oil. His favorite food is fish, preferably the biggest sea monster he can kill himself.
Gage - smells like beer and used brass bullet casings, gun powder and campfires. He doesn’t particularly care what he eats but like to soak it in beer for added flavor. He’d be the king of beer can chicken prewar.
Hancock - smells like old history textbooks, and the vapor from jet, and a little hint of cinnamon. He isn’t very discerning about food, but his favorite food is anything the people he cares most about cook for him. The fact that they were willing to do such a thing makes it taste amazing to him.
Dogmeat - smells like whatever he’s been rolling in, usually dirt or sweet grass, and the warm musky scent of dog fur. His favorite food is any bone he can get his paws on, especially Brahmin or radstag bones.
I can’t believe I am finally here, in my daddy’s bed. I’ve wanted to sleep with him for so long, since I was so little. I always knew he looked at me and probably thought about me when he came, but who knew it would take me being a little whore to get his attention? I’d been sneaking out and hiding it for so long. But this whole time, all he wanted to do was punish his little slut baby girl with his big cock.
Let me rewind. I’m 21. My daddy has been living with us forever. He’s my dad. My mom used to be this hot little ballerina type and I would hear them fucking all the time when they first met. He would pull my mom by her panties into their room right in front of me and slam the door. I never heard the click of a lock, instead i heard my mom fall to hear knees and start gagging on daddy’s cock. I heard him demand “take it harder. come on girl. you can take it all in that big mouth.” I think they wanted me to hear that. Maybe I should’ve gone in. Maybe they would’ve liked that.
When they were done, he would fling the door open and walk out naked, with his cock still half hard. Once, I was still in the hallway when he made his exit. I looked in between the french doors to their room and saw my mom’s naked body on the floor, with her hand still teasing her pussy. Her eyes were closed, but she couldn’t seem to stop touching herself. Moans were still coming out of mouth. Daddy walked out into the hallway and crouched down to me, about 13 at the time, when he saw me. He was maybe 30. He said “It’s okay. You can watch me and your mommy having fun. We like having fun with each other. It makes daddy’s cock bigger and makes your mommy’s pussy wet. It’s good for you baby!”
The next night, daddy came into my room and woke me up by dragging me by the panties to his room. This time, mom was still there. She was sleeping. He pulled me and my panties onto the bed, but they were ripped in half by the time I got there. Our house was big and the hallway was long. He brought me into bed to sleep with him and said I needed to take my panties off because that’s the only clean way to sleep. He kept his hand on my pussy all night long, but that’s all that happened.
But that was years ago. Me at 13 years old didn’t know what was going on. I honestly thought nothing of my dad and his loving behavior. I was his little girl, and he loved me.
Sometimes we had daddy/daughter only nights, where we would watch romantic movies and my dad would take me shopping. He liked to be the one to buy me my bras and underwear. He said I needed a man’s opinion, and he liked to make sure his baby girl felt sexy. Nobody ever argued with him when he came into dressing rooms with me as a girl of 14, because he was so charming and handsome. He just explained how he needed to help his little girl with these things, because I was so uncomfortable and I only liked to undress for him. They always found that endearing. Sometimes, daddy would take a picture or two on his phone of my outfits so that my family could give their opinion. He knows I need my brother and uncles approval before I buy anything. Daddy is what matters most, but they are good tie breakers. Back then, my daddy worshipped my body. He liked to massage me and tell me how much I was growing. He would tell me that men were going to be trying to get close to me with their cocks. I always knew nobody else’s cock would interest me. I was my daddy’s girl.
And now, I’m 21. Since high school I got a job at a hotel downtown and my dad comes to visit me a lot because I stayed close by in Nashville. I dress in a silk bunny dress and an apron, so I get hit on a lot. I like when daddy comes in because he doesn’t tell anyone who he is. He just scares off the perverts who want to touch me. I’m old enough to make him mine, but I know he’s too shy to get me on his own. There was one night, right after my 21st birthday. We’re at work and the clock strikes 2. I say “Daddy, i’ve never even taken one shot at work since my birthday. You have to take one with me!”
So i pour double shots of rumple mints and kiss him on the check.
“Oh you’re a lot of fun dad! That’s why I love when you visit me.”
I pour us two more.
And two more after that.
By now, I’ve pulled him behind the bar with me and start sliding the straps off of my costume. It’s so uncomfortable.
“Little girl, keep your clothes on! You’re at work. I need to take you home.”
He drove me home that night but the whole way home I was begging him to turn around. I wanted to go back to a bar and dance!
I just wanted to keep having fun!
So, when we got back to his house, something had clicked. He loosened his tie.
“You’re right. It’s too early. Let’s keep this night going…”
He went to the bar and poured us both cocktails.
“You’re old enough to drink now, so we can have as much fun as we want. Can’t we? Go pick out a song you like.”
I put on Rihanna and started dancing.
He was dancing too. “My little girl has some moves!! Show me whatcha got?”
I started to wiggle around with my ass out, grinding to the floor.
“Wow. Is that how you dance when you’re out, little girl? You look like you’re looking for trouble. You look like you’re a slut.”
I was shocked.
“DAD! Did you just call me a slut?”
“Well… no. I’m just saying you were getting really sexual. It looks like you’ve been fucked before Charlie!”
“Wow, dad! Clearly you like what you see!!”
“Charlie! Now I need to know. How many guys have you fucked!!?”
I sit down. Dad pulls me back up by the wrists.
“Dad. What do you want me to say? I like sex.”
“Oh do you, baby girl? Have you been stretching that pussy out?”
“You don’t show me and I’m going to find out for myself anyway baby. Show daddy how much of a slut you are!”
Daddy threw me over his shoulders and took me to his bed. He told me to wait there and to be a good girl. I got comfy and snuggled up to the down comforter.
When he came out, he scooped me up off the bed into the bathroom. He told me to put on a triangle pastie twin top and triangle thong bottoms. He told me this was my mom’s swimsuit when she was a young slut. It’s only right that I put it on and suck some cock.
When I put it on and looked in the mirror, I could see my daddy sitting behind me with a big fat boner. He was in awe.
“Bend over for daddy.”
I did, of course.
“Daddy, I want to get into the bath.”
“Take off the suit first, then, baby.”
I did, of course.
As soon as we got into the water together, Daddy wouldn’t leave my nipples alone. He wanted to touch and feel them. I let him, of course.
Daddy had brought a bottle of champagne into the bathroom. He told me he wanted me to feel special. Mommy was out of town for the week on vacation with her friends.
“Baby girl, I want you to sleep with me tonight. There needs to be another woman in this bed. You know your mommy won’t sleep close to me anymore, right? Why don’t you get ready for bedtime and you can think about it while we go have a nightcap.”
I usually slept naked, so… I thought a crop top and boy shirts would be a good in between.
When I came out to the living room and laid down on the love seat, daddy walked up to me with a glass of vodka. I noticed he was only wearing his red plaid pajama pants with nothing underneath. He was doing that on purpose.
“OK girl, time to be straight with your daddy. Are you getting naughty with these boys at school? What’s going on at your parties? I’m sure people are fucking.”
“What? You’ve got nice big tits and I’m sure you have a tight pussy. Those young cocks are gonna want to fuck you. Hard.”
It was true, obviously. I had gotten double fucked between classes more than once. But none of it was good enough. No dick was good enough.
But should I take daddy’s bait? Do I tell him about those young cocks? Yeah. I do.
“They have no idea what they’re doing.”
“Ohhh girl. You’ve tried them out haven’t you? Naughty.”
“Are you mad at me daddy?”
“No, baby girl. I like a slutty hole. Your mother won’t even open it up to me. I bet you’re tight and ready to get filled up.”
“Filled up?! Yeah right.”
He reached his hand over and reached to my panties, pulling them towards him.
“Open up your hole.”
Daddy grabbed my hand and took my through the sliding glass door and to the outdoor pool. we had two lounge chairs facing the water, right outside our doors.
The lights were on and the water was calm. A patio that was swarming with beer-soaking vacationers and kids by day was now ours.
He hopped into the shallow-er end, at about 4’. He pulled me in.
“Come on in, pretty baby.”
As soon as I was under water, he said… “Be a good girl and take off your top. Don’t worry, it’s nothing I’ve ever seen before. I bet you look just like mommy.”
I couldn’t say no… I saw my daddy’s cock get harder under his pants. He started to touch it. He was getting shameless, now.
“Oh god, baby those are some nice titties. Daddy loves when you show them off. Go ahead and swim around. Don’t forget your drink.”
I was giggling and floating around now, bouncing up and down so my tits shook.
Daddy sat back on a lounge chair and watched me, hand on his cock. He took it out of his pants and pulled down his waistband so he could jerk his cock and balls at the same time. He was rock hard. I couldn’t pretend not to stare, and he knew it. His cock had to be at least 6 inches, and it was thick. No wonder he was horny. He needed new pussy.
“Come over here baby girl.”
“Daddy! Get in the water with me. Please!”
“Aaaah” he moaned. “I love the view sweetheart. Daddy is so hard for you.”
“I see that…”
“You want to see me up close don’t you?”
“Yeah, I kinda do daddy… so what?”
“Don’t get sassy.”
“Sorry daddy.” I swam up to the curb of the pool and reached up to touch his leg. “Can you please come in the water? Just take your pants off. No one is going to see.”
“I don’t care if anyone sees. We’re just having a good time and nobody is gonna stop it. You love daddy daughter time don’t you baby?”
“You know I do.”
In one motion he pulled off his pants and slid into the water with me.
“Now this isn’t fair. Your daddy is totally naked and you have your bottoms on. Take them off, girl.”
He pulled them down for me, and I climbed out. Now i was naked too. He took my bikini bottoms and threw them on the chair. He then picked up our vodka glasses and clicked with me as we both took a drink.
“Drink it all, baby girl. Let’s have some fun!”
“I’m a lightweight daddy! Vodka makes me crazy.”
“That’s what i want, you little slut!”
He grabbed one of my ass cheeks, hard. He pulled me closer.
“You always wanted to see your daddy’s hard cock, didn’t you? You were always a horny little pervert. You loved watching me fuck your mommy. We kept you in the room because we knew how wet it got you. You got so wet we would find puddles. You came right along with mommy, didn’t you?”
I was a bit embarrassed. I’m sure all of this was true…
He took his other hand and started to play with my pussy.
“You used to play with your pussy just like this didn’t you? Every time I like you see my cock. Didn’t you baby?”
I moaned, quietly. He drank it up, moving closer to my ear to whisper, as he rubbed my clit.
“You’ve been thirsty for daddy’s cock for years. I know, baby girl. Maybe tonight is the night I let you have it.”
I moaned louder. He rubbed harder. I could feel his hard cock against my shaking leg.
“Oooh baby, you’re gonna open that wet hole up for daddy. I’m gonna take it whenever I want. You won’t need any other cocks anymore. Is that understood? No other cocks, just daddy’s.”
“Aaahhh, yes daddy. No other cocks.”
“Good girl. Now tell daddy what you want.”
“I need you to fuck me.”
“Ooooh naughty. I knew you were going to be a slut. Take another drink. Show daddy what you want.”
I turned to the wall of the pool, took the rest of his drink and spread my legs, pushing my ass into my daddy’s cock.
“I’m ready daddy.”
“Oh I bet you are, little slut. Baby girl bring that ass to daddy.”
He guided his cock into me within one or two seconds. I immediately started moaning and pushing myself further and further onto his hard cock. It was huge, perfect for me.
“Good girl, fuck that cock!”
He had a tight grip on my ass and was fucking me HARD. I was running out of breath.
“Keep that hole open for daddy. Come on and ride it! I know you want to! Work that ass baby girl.”
I let loose on his cock and felt his cock get even harder, somehow. I took ever inch. I was mesmerized by the waves we were making, almost losing consciousness. Daddy had my tits in his hands now and was whispering in my ear again.
“I bet you’ve never been fucked like this, little slut.”
“No daddy, never” I slipped out, with the little breath I had to spare.
I looked up and saw two guys with beers in their hands, sitting on the front porch chairs. They were leaned back and muttering to each other in raspy whispers that were full of testosterone and rage. They were clearly watching us.
“It’s okay baby, those are just a few of daddy’s friends. I told them we’d be here and they decided to stop by.”
I was too high to respond, or put up a fight. If they wanted to watch, fine. They could talk about it later and jack off.
“Don’t you dare stop baby girl. They came here to see a show.”
I looked up again with hazy eyes and noticed they both now had their cocks out. Their fully hard cocks were almost as big as daddy’s. I didn’t know my dad liked when men watched. God, he is just the horniest man. I love it. I love him.
“Come on girl, lets have you lay on a towel. We’re gonna switch it up.”
He lifted me out of the pool, one of the guys got up off a chair and daddy laid me down a towel before resting me on it. He spread my legs wider.
“You keep that hole open girl!”
He turned to each of the guys, cocks still hard in their hands.”
“You like what you see boys? My daughters got some good ass pussy, that’s for sure. How should I fuck her next? You know what, maybe we should full up another hole of hers. She needs it.”
“Daddy i don’t know if I can take it.”
“You’ll take it, baby.”
Before i knew it daddy laid down, pulled me on top of him with force like he always did, and I was riding his cock again, my pussy dripping wet. I was never going to be able to say now to his cock.
I could feel daddy stretching my ass out. First he put one finger in, and I loved the extra jolt of juice in my pussy. He got to three fingers and I was moaning for him to keep going. Not two seconds later and I felt a cock ram my ass without warning. All 5 inches into my tight little asshole and I was moaning so loud a few lights went on in other rooms surrounding the pool.
“Shhh baby girl, relax. Just relax and open those holes. Doesn’t that feel good honey? You’re mommy won’t let us double stuff her anymore, so now that’s your job. You can do that can’t you little slut?”
“Yes, daddy. Ooooh this feels so good I want to cum.”
Authors Note: Hey, Hey everyone, I hope everyone has had a great day and evening. This is the second chapter to Manhattan, my Frat Boy AU. I am not sure whether this will be a fanfic or a mini-series, or what it becomes. It depends on the reviews I get on it from you guys.
I hope you enjoy this chapter, is a bit different from the first Chapter, but it is building on characters, I guess. I don’t know. Anyway, enjoy! Xx
Harry Masterlist foundHERE To Enter to win tickets for Harry Styles IN Nashville TN, HERE
It has been several days since the ludicrous frat party I attended. My dress still emanates a damn brewery, and I swear I can’t cleanse the stench of beer off my skin, but everyone else appeared to have loved it— it’s all I have heard about the last few days.
Apparently, it was such a great gathering that there’s going to be another… one that I will NOT be attending.
I don’t care if they do some keg standing drinking game or if there’s some kind of absurdly amazing beer pong match where that dickhead gets his ass beat— I am not going. I have no desire to.
I haven’t seen or heard about Harry either.
He seems to be mysterious, I am starting to wonder if he even attends the same University or if I managed to lure a creepy man to my dorm room while falling for his British charm.
Maybe he isn’t even British and it’s all an act. Who knows?
Besides the tailgate party and the after game entertainment that has been circling around conversations, the month of September is the beginning of football season—a season of deranged fanatic students’ screaming and rumbling at a football stadium, rooting for our blue and white team, while trying not to get drunk in the stands.
Today, September sixteenth; Well, today isn’t just the day for kick starting the glorious season of men in pads, pounding each other for a football, but it kicks starts against a rivalry that has been brewing for years.
We start the season against the Cornell Big Reds.
Despite my piling stacks of work and notes that need revising, I can’t help but fall for the first day, kick off, shenanigans of college football. I guess, I felt it was compulsory to act within the typical expectations of a college student and tag along with tailgating before the game.
Little did I know that this decision would be the start of something unknown.
At first glance, I disregard him, having to carry a double take before realising that it’s him, Harry.
I tilt my head to the side, my eyes blazing into him as they discern that he’s bearing red. Although he seems rather dainty in crimson, the blood humming through my veins seems to disagree with his judgment of colours, both for a good and bad reason.
I glance around promptly, noticing I am the only one not gathered in the crowd up ahead with their chants and their eager anticipation. I sigh, leaning against my roommate’s car, my eyes fluttering back towards him.
He makes his way over to me, my teeth sinking into my bottom lip as a nervous reaction.
“Hi, I’m surprised to see you here.” He flashes me a Cheshire grin, his eyes appearing to glisten a radiant emerald that I can admire more in the dusk sunset then I could in the moonlight the other night.
“Hello,” I nod, “I’m just as equally as surprised,” I comment, part of me rather enthused with the fact he’s bearing a rival colour that nobody dares to sport on such a day like today. “Nice colour, surprised your blood isn’t spread all over it— wait, don’t tell me,” I gasp, leading with a small pause. “You’re one of them.” I add, considerably amused by the fact that he may be unknown territory that is ’forbidden’.
Anon Request: Could u do an imagine where reader isn’t dating joji but he gets jealous of her hanging around and laughing at other people’s jokes then just grabs her by the waist and whispers “mine"
Y/N’s POV I somehow heard a knock on the door over the sound of everyone’s chatter and the soft sound of the music, someone else was waiting to get in. Great. Not that I didn’t like people, I was social and actually enjoyed the company, but the place was getting crowded enough. I opened the door, a smile spread across my face. His black hair was somewhat covering his face as he stared down at his phone, as he looked up, his eyes beamed, a smile spreading across his face. He looked good despite me not seeing him for a few weeks. I expanded my arms out, letting him embrace me as he buried his face into the crook of my neck.
“Hey, Joji.” I said, still smiling.
I considered Joji my closest friend up until a few weeks ago when he randomly stopped coming over and communicating with me altogether. There was an incident that occurred at a friends house party where someone had drunkenly put him on blast, claiming that he had a crush on me, and feeling embarrassed and awkward, he kept his distance thinking that maybe I didn’t feel that way about him but it ‘wouldn’t hurt to take precautionary measures’…and I did feel that way, but I knew that he didn’t, which is obviously why he kept his distance in the first place. He pulled away from the hug rather quickly, which of course left me red-faced and a bit ashamed. I let him in and shut the door behind us.
“You look nice.” he said looking around, seeing nothing but groups of people, “This place looks different, you remodeled?”
“Nah, I just moved the furniture around a little bit. I needed a change.” I answered.
He nodded, uncomfortably standing there. I offered him beer, to which he followed me into the kitchen to receive. I took one out of the fridge for him, handing it over, he spoke, “Do you think we can talk? I have some stuff I wanna get out of the way…”
“Uh, yeah, we can go-“ I said before I was interrupted by Henry, one of my friends, calling me from the living room.
“You gotta see this!” Henry laughed over the music and everyone’s constant rapid talking. I excused myself politely and went over to Henry who showed me a video of some sort of meme. I couldn’t help but laugh and roll my eyes at him. Soon enough, I had forgotten about George who was in the kitchen still rummaging the cabinets for more alcohol. I danced around with several people, feeling great, singing along and laughing all through the night. Deciding to take a break, I went into my room to change out of my top. It was soaked in sweat and beer so I went with something a little more revealing around my cleavage area and my stomach just for fun. Walking out into the hallway, I saw Joji leaning against the wall.
“Hey, George. You okay?” I asked, “Are you enjoying yourself?”
“Uh, sure. You’re looking a little…revealing.” he pointed out bluntly.
“It’s hot in here.” I answered shrugging.
He walked off, taking a giant gulp of his drink. Maybe he still felt awkward…and that made me feel like shit. It was probably best to forget about him the way I saw him, so that’s what I focused on doing. I drank more, circling myself with my friends as everyone else danced. I laughed at the weird shit they tried pulling and the jokes they told. Catching my breath, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned to see a guy that was invited by one of my friends, she was trying to set me up. Since I wanted to forget about Joji as much as I could, I started chatting the guy up. Lightly touching his arm every now and then, giggling at his little antics. I could see George behind the guy, glaring over at us as he clenched his jaw. I paid no mind to him, focusing on the guy again. A few minutes passed by and the guy leaned in to my ear to to tell me something, I couldn’t hear him over the music blaring louder than before. I noticed George throw his cup somewhere and angrily lumbered over to us. He yanked me by my wrist, pulling me into his chest. Smelling his scent I shut my eyes, I missed him more than I thought I did. Although I was confused, I didn’t mind it. Trying to get over Joji would be a challenge. I opened my eyes and processed what was going on.
“What are you doing?” I asked harshly, pushing away from him as I realized what a dick-move that was. He disappears for weeks after denying his feelings for me, treating it as some kind of joke, making me feel like a complete idiot for feeling the way I do about him and now here he was cock blocking. Joji clutched me by the waste, pulling me in close, joining our bodies together.
“Mine.” he whispered into my ear in a gravelly voice, “All mine.”
His hand resting just above my butt as I felt his lips nip at my neck, working their way to my lips. His free hand cupped my face. Joji looked me in the eyes, searching my face with his eyes, as if trying to assure me everything was okay. He tilted his head lower, hesitating. I grabbed his face in my hands and pressed my lips to his hungrily. Everything around us felt like it disappeared, even that stupid guy who was hitting on me. I wanted George, I’ve always wanted George, and now that our feelings for each other were reciprocated, I didn’t have to hide that anymore.
“All yours.” I smiled as he leaned his forehead against mine.
Nicole entered the Homestead feeling exhausted from
an intense day with Wynonna, Dolls, and Doc. It had only been a few weeks since
she had been recruited into the Black Badge Division, and between patrolling
shifts for P.P.D. and B.B.D., she felt like she was about to collapse. Waverly
was recovering from touching the black goo, and was assigned to look into the
creature that attempted to enter Purgatory when Willa crossed the line. Since
coming into contact with its remains, she obtained certain powers that she was
attempting to control, which was exhausting for her as well.
Nicole placed her jacket and Stetson on the kitchen
“Waves?” she called.
“Gimme a sec!” Waverly answered.
She entered the dining room holding an envelope,
excitement in her eyes.
“What is that?” Nicole asked, reaching for it.
“An invitation to my high school reunion!” she
responded with glee, “it seems like only yesterday I was cheering on the
Purgatory Devils, now here I am, kicking actual devil ass.” She winked.
“That you are.” Nicole smirked and took the envelope
and opened it to reveal a formal invitation. While reading, she asked, “So…a
Notes: This one’s a little different. Not only is it way more personal than anything else I’ve published, this oneshot is an emotional response to something that I’ve been trying to process for the last twenty-four hours. I’m not sure why I’ve chosen to share this rather than keep it to myself, but I’m not overly concerned with trying to figure that out. And I just want to say a huge thank you to @iraullylikeyou for supporting me and encouraging me to write so that I’m able to get a better grip on my feelings through this ordeal. The writing might not be the best, but I couldn’t care less. This is just simply me grieving in a way that works for me. I would say enjoy, but that’s not the point of this.
TRIGGER WARNING: Suicide. Please, if you are ever feeling as if there is no other way out, please please please seek help. So many people love you, and so many people would be missing you.
The bar was crawling with Kingsman staff – the entirety of Medical was here celebrating someone’s birthday, it seemed, and staff from Tech, Wardrobe and Weapons were lingering among the pub.
“Grab us a few pints, yea, Ham’?” Lancelot shoves a bill his way and Merlin nods. He needed to stretch his legs. Being cramped in this booth discussing policy within the agency was the last way he wanted to spend his Friday. The lanky Scotsman scuffles over to the bar, and mid-way notices you seated in a corner booth with your friends. Swallowing a bit of nervousness Merlin raps his knuckles on the oak of the bar and waving the bartender over.
“Four pints a’ Guinesses, yea?” he hands over the bill, voice raised over the sound Foreigner playing from the speakers in the back. The bartender gives him a nod, and Merlin’s eyes turn to the TV above the bar playing the Arsenal game. Harry slips beside him at the bar, moving to help carry the other two beers.
“Did you see that Y/N is here?”
Merlin shoots him a look. “Don’t.”
Harry, seeming very pleased with himself, smirks. “And she’s headed this way.”
Merlin’s about to turn and look, when Harry shoves him roughly with his shoulder and Hamish collides hard with a body half way to the bar and is drenched in beer. Merlin’s eyes widen.
Your face is twisted into absolute horror as you blink down at the mess you made. Your blouse is soaked, and foam from the beer is in your hair. Even worse, the man across from you is wearing your drink.
“Oh my god,” you breathe, “I am so sorry!”
“No, no,” Ham’ is quick, “All my fault.”
Harry just grins and watches the entire scene play out.
Merlin has frozen up completely now realizing he is currently face-to-face with his one and only office crush. You’re a pretty, young receptionist down in Tech – the one he had to pass every morning when gathering his necessary tools for working on the computer mainframe. The Scotsman was shy – blame it on a lack of self-confidence, Harry always said – and Harry could tell his friend was in a world of panic.
Harry watches as you blink up at the man you’d crashed into and recognize him. “Hamish! Oh my. I am really really sorry. I was focused on not spilling and ha. Well.”
Of course it’s Hamish. Your eyes fleet to your friends locked in a corner booth – they’re all giggling with wide-eyes. It was no secret you liked Hamish. Nearly every girl in Tech liked him. He was kind and polite and that accent! Those legs! Hamish was a handsome man. And without his normal large glasses?
My god. His eyes are green.
Merlin’s white dress shirt is soaked through and you try desperately not to stare as the see-through fabric clings to his waist. Using a napkin, Merlin dabs quickly, laughing. “Tha’s alright. I, uh, wasn’t looking where I was goin’ either. Th’ shove from ‘arry here certainly didn’t help.”
“I’m not even sorry,” Harry, that posh bastard, quips. He saunters off after tossing his mate a wink, leaving you both soaked and without drinks.
“Let me buy y’ a drink?” Hamish offers, his voice soft, “S’ th’ least I can do fer ruinin’ yer blouse.”
His eyes fleet down and the pattern of your bra is showing through. It’s white lace. His face is beat red. He regrets looking down.
Logan: *short, outrageously hairy, smells like an ashtray soaked in beer, communicates primarily in a language only spoken by badgers, will fall asleep on your white couch with a bag of flaming hot cheetos and won’t pay to have it reupholstered*