Thank You So Much! 💖

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

sam monroe x female reader hcs

some mentions of sex, drugs, alcohol, prostitution + angst and fluff

sam monroe would glare at you as you looked at him from across the room, trying to scare you away.

sam monroe would eventually become friends with you after you practically forced yourself into the poor boys life.

sam monroe was very confused that a girl—especially one like you—would ever want to be friends (or more) with him of all people, i mean, he’s goth, and he isn’t nessicarily masculine. little did he know, you adore his eyeliner, his piercings, and his clothing

sam monroe quickly became infatuated with you, obsessed with the time you would spend with him, even if it was a quick conversation about how your best friend fucked the popular jock.

sam monroe struggles with drugs— and you weren’t aware of this until a few months into your friendship with him, you immediately tried helping him, but he pushed you away.

sam monroe invited you to his house one day after school. as soon as you two were in his room alone together, something clicked inside of you two, and sam immediately clinged himself onto you and it ended up in some..intimate activities.

sam monroe opened up to you a bit more after he found out his father has cancer, and he stayed at your house for a bit, and refused to leave your bed for a week. eventually you got him out of bed with a promise that you would let him fuck you in the shower. that horny fuck.

sam monroe was convinced by josh to try prostitution for one night— in order to get drug money. you were shocked when he came running to your house in tears, babbling about how “he made a huge mistake” and that “he promises he’ll never do it again.” it ruined his self esteem a lot, and once you found out what really happened, you made sure he never took any drug again.

sam monroe and you had a awkward friends-but-still-knew-you-both-liked-eachother phase. it consisted of you and him never outright saying you were dating, but you both knew what was what.

(sam monroe did convince you to let him still smoke weed, though)

sam monroe has a big dick.

sam monroe loves deftones and muse

sam monroe let’s you boss him around and yell at him, (even in bed)

sam monroe hates parties— he hates getting drunk, mainly because of the hangover. he surprisingly hates the loud music, the bright lights, and the many amounts of people. he would much rather have a quiet night watching star wars with you.

sam monroe loves to cuddle you, nuzzling your chest and biting you playfully

sam monroe loves when you show him off. sam loves when you attach your mouth to his neck and use his skin as a canvas for your art.

sam monroe loves doing his makeup with you. even though he only wears eyeliner, he still finds it enjoyable.

sam monroe loves blowing smoke into your mouth

Lust

Sebastian Sallow x f!Reader

WARNING: 18+ smut, dark!sebastian,

NOTE: Anon request for "Seb + lust potion". Everyone is aged up! Tbh I don't know how I feel about how this turned out

Sebastian wasn't innocent at the beginning or end this quest. He had taken an interest in the dark arts since his 4th or 5th year at Hogwarts. He was driven by his parents ceaseless curiosity while they were alive and later in life by trying to cure Anne. After everything happened with his uncle and everyone involved chose to spare him the justice of the wizarding world, he toned it down.

That didn't mean he let go of it entirely. He continued to explore things that could be considered "dark arts" but things that could be used day-to-day or at least when it was convenient. Currently, he was in his home at Feldcroft, alone without Anne or Solomon to be his keepers.

He drank a bit too much Dragon Barrel brandy, especially for someone trying to accomplish what he was. He wanted to modify a draught of Amortentia in a way that made it more than some temporary infatuation, but a way that made someone painfully lustful. And the someone he wanted to give it to was you.

You were the only person who was really in his corner anymore, but he hadn't been able to think straight since he'd officially lost everyone else. He hadn't been able to settle with all of the guilt and fear that any day one of you would just turn him in. So, he had taken to drinking and being a degenerate no matter how much you tried to save him.

If you knew his secrets, maybe you would finally turn your back on him for good, but for now, you couldn't help that you loved him all these years.

Sebastian's problem was now that in the midst of his drinking and scheming, he took the Amortentia himself as opposed to having more of his brandy. He passed out shortly afterward, at least making it to his couch. Which is where you found him in the morning.

You had come as you did every morning to make sure he at least ate one meal without booze. You came over sleepy and with just a knitted shawl to cover your night dress. It wasn't as if Sebastian was ever aware enough to notice you anymore, not like the hungry glances you used to see from him. And it was always dark when you wandered over from your stay, getting ready for the rest of your day in Sebastian's home.

When you came in the first thing you noticed was that he hadn't even made it to bed last night. It made you let out a sad sigh. You weren't cleaning up the mess of potion bottles he left out for god knows what, he could deal with that on his own, but you at least planned to wake him up.

"Sebastian..." your voice was soft as you shook his shoulders, unable to be anything but tender with him despite everything.

He heard you and groaned. He expected his skull to be throbbing from last night, but he felt really confused when the blood rushed to a different head. His eyes shot open and he startled the both of you, making you stumble to a seat right next to his knees.

"Sebastian?! What the hell did you drink last night?" He figured that out about as soon as his eyelids felt heavy looking at you. He could see the outline of your breasts, your hips, your curves; he could see everything through your thin gown and felt like he was going to explode. Did you always come over here like this? Is he that stupid to not have taken you yet?

His thoughts wandered all over the place as you placed a hand on his chest in worry. "Sebastian? Are you in there? What's wrong?" You hadn't seen him look this sober in a year or two honestly.

He squeezed his eyes shut tight, running a hand threw his hair before he propped himself up, face just inches from yours.

"I-yeah, I just had some really strange dreams. I don't know what happened last night."

You crossed your arms, ignoring the lure of his rough morning voice before scolding him, "Well, I'm not cleaning up whatever all this is. I'm not your maid."

His maid? Is that really how you felt? You stood up, shuffling over to his kitchen to get hot water started. His jaw nearly fell to the floor as he saw your entire silhouette through your gown; with the way, the sun was shining it was like you were delivered to him on a silver platter.

He couldn't think straight. He was thinking about how constricting his pants felt, how hot his skin was, how much he wanted to practically eat you alive.

He stood up to stretch before he followed after you like a puppy. He peeled his old shirt over his head without a care. He felt like he was going to melt with it sticking to him.

When you turned around to meet him you had to work hard to contain your expression. You were looking right into his chest with how tall he'd gotten. All you could see were fleshy arms and chest just absolutely covered in freckles.

"Wait," you looked up at him, unable to contain your surprise as he spoke, "I know you're not my maid. I know how much you take care of me here," he used his fingers to swipe some loose hairs from around your face, "let me be your maid today."

You couldn't contain your laughter at how goofy he sounded. It made him a little bit angry, he just wanted to say whatever would get you to let him ruin your soft skin and he couldn't even manage that right anymore.

"Sebastian, I don't know what's going on today, but just go do whatever you do."

You waved him off, attempting to turn back towards the kitchen when he grabbed your wrist tightly, "I can run your bath for you?"

He dropped to his knees in front of you, looking up at you through his lashes as he brought your hand to his cheek.

"Please. I know I've been a burden, I've been - I've been bad, but I want to help. I want to do better by you."

You eye him strangely, unsure of what is going on. You've seen his charades and empty promises before and this definitely sounded like that. If you didn't know better you would almost think he was trying to seduce you in some weird way, but that would be a first.

"Seb. I love you dearly, but I don't know what you're doing and you know I don't trust you."

He groaned, dropping your hand, leaning his head against your legs. He was completely unable to resist running his hands along the back of your calves.

"Okay, you know how I go to Penny's Pub."

"Yes, Sebastian, unfortunately I do."

He started speaking again, standing up slowly as he did and caressing your curves the whole way up, he decided to play the helpless card, "I'm embarrassed," he intentionally avoided your gaze, " some woman I never met bought me a drink and I didn't feel so good so I came back here."

He was really trying to playing it up as he ran his fingertips up and down the back of your neck, "But I, I think she slipped me a lust potion. It's some gross modification of Amortentia."

He avoided your gaze, the redness in his cheeks in ears made it seem like he wasn't lying through his teeth.

"O-okay and what am I supposed to do?" The rise and fall of your chest came quicker, "You got yourself into this mess, it's nothing to do with me."

You did your best to brush him off, not wanting to give in to whatever game this was. Even if it was true, it didn't mean you owed him anything. He wasn't the Sebastian you used to know.

You attempted once more to turn away from him, but his grip along your jaw tightened. "I need you," he spoke aggressively before his lips met yours in a crushing kiss.

You placed your hands on his chest in attempt to push him back, but he responded by pinning you to the counter, tilting his head so he could speak low into your ear, "I know you need this too," his hand drifted to your skirts, dipping beneath to trace the skin of your thigh, "you can fight me, but I know I'll find you dripping underneath of here. I need the tight little pussy I've never been strong enough to take."

You could feel him drifting closer to the wetness you were ashamed of, you squirmed, but it made no difference. You could feel how stiff he was against you, how his hot commanding breath felt on your neck. "I can't hold back anymore," he whimpered, almost sounding sorry and pathetic for what he was about to do. His fingers passed through your slick folds, smearing it around to press a lubricated thumb to your clit.

"Sebastian..." You gave yourself to how good it felt, hands turned to fists as you clenched onto his pecs.

"I've been so stupid. Could've had you drooling on my cock like this the whole time." You let out a sharp moan of disappointment as he took is hand away before hoisting you onto the counter top.

He looked at you sinfully, your flushed demeanor of want and fear, your rumpled clothes splayed out over your legs you didn't even know you were spreading. He couldn't contain himself as he growled low in his throat, taking the collar of your gown and tearing through the buttons. He yanked harder still until the skirt tore straight in half.

There you were, naked, swollen, soaking, torn between the "no" you know you should give him and the fact that you can't seem to open your mouth open.

"You're so fucking perfect," for a few moments he couldn't bring himself to do anything besides stare and drink you in, "I'm going to leave bruises here," he palmed the skin of your hip, over the curve of your belly, continuing upwards, "and here. Maybe bite marks, maybe I'll leave my seed here to stain you," he flicked his fingers across your nipple, massaging the warm flesh.

He took the step forward to be directly between your legs, pinning your wrists to the counter top. He looked right into your eyes, "I might tie these up to mark them up too. So everybody can see what you let me do."

He knelt in front of you, his blown pupils never looking away from yours as he grabs you by the thighs and pulls you into his mouth. His lips cover your mound, tongue tracing your folds before flicking across your clit.

Your mewls and moans drive him to keep going and work harder, sucking on the sensitive nub and digging his fingers into your thighs. He looked beautiful between your legs, a mess of auburn hair with freckled fingers holding you hostage to his assault.

"Sebastian, Sebastian, I -" Your legs clenched and he gripped you hard to keep you from closing them, he knows your close. He's nearly done in for himself with your taste and scent, he felt like you could be his last meal and he would die a happy man.

When he feels the final tension from your legs he completely releases you, standing up and holding you by the hips. You nearly have tears in your eyes from how close you were when he denied you of it. You could see his damp mouth and chin just inches from your face.

You flinch when he swipes a finger through your folds before bringing it up to your lips. You feel embarrassed to smell and see your arousal. He uses his clean hand to drag your chin down and force your mouth open, "Taste how dirty you are, Y/N. You've been so needy for me this whole time."

You can feel the tears of frustration about to come out as you let him pop his finger into your mouth, forcing you to clean it all off.

"I bet it hurts to be so pent up, so close, but not able to get what you want," a wet slap echoes through the room as you bite your lip to hold back your pleas, "that's how you've made me feel this whole time. Trouncing around in a harlot's clothes, waiting for someone to stop being a gentleman," he chuckled darkly, "but I bet you didn't expect it would be me who would torture you."

You can't find any words as you see the look of nothing but lust on his face, he has no compassion for you right now, he's thinking only of doing all the things he's wanted for so long.

You find yourself slightly surprised as he lifts you up to carry you into his bedroom where he tosses your bare form onto the bed. You feel like prey with how he looks down at your form.

Yet you can't find it in you to look away as he pulls his belt from his trousers first, then unfastens the button to allow the to hit the floor, taking his undergarments with them.

He's bigger than you anticipated. His cock is swollen looking as if it's about to burst at any moment as he crawls between your legs to pin you down. You yelp as he pulls you by you hips to meet his cock, grinding against you while he covers your lips with his.

The kisses are sloppy as his tongue traces patterns on your lips before you let him in, he pulls at your lips with his teeth leaving bitten flesh before you finally let him inside. They're suffocating and intoxicating all at the same time, every sensation feels like it's magnified at this point.

You wrap your arms helplessly around him, feeling his pulse through his biceps and the tensed muscles along his back. He moves down to your breasts leaving a trail of bites while you rut against each other for relief.

He pulls back to take in the full site of you before positioning himself at your entrance. He wants to see you fall apart when you have the full force of him inside of you. Without any time to react he thrusts himself into you, the room filling with the sounds of moans and wet skin.

All he cared about was how you practically swallowed his cock. You were wet and needy and he felt like he could have cum on the spot, but he wanted to hold back. He wanted to make you sore, to show everyone what he had done to you.

He fucked you relentlessly with one hand braced on your hip and another he moved down to play with you once more. He needed you to like it whether you wanted to or not. He needed to know he made you finish with the full force of his cock and his fingers.

You could see how flushed he was in the face and chest, clearly holding back. You couldn't deny how attractive he was as he pounded in and out of you. As you noticed all the freckles on his body in place you had never imagined they'd be; the way his hands looked pressing into your skin almost painfully.

The way he looked down at you with hooded eyes, intent on leaving you destroyed as he fucked you and fought to give you the orgasm he so abruptly took from you earlier.

You felt it building in your stomach and pulled Sebastian down on top of you, feeling greedy to want to feel his weight all over you when you came crashing down. You felt it through your stomach like electricity as you squeezed your legs around him crying out nonsense from the pleasure.

When he realized you were there he picked up his pace, allowing himself the permission to release right inside of you. He grunted and you could feel him so deep inside that you thought you were going to fall apart. He had wanted to shoot his ropes of cum all over you and see you as his crumpled-up little mess, but he didn't have the strength to do it.

He collapsed against you and you both breathed heavily together. He didn't know if the potion made these things any more intense, but he felt like he could see stars from how hard he had just finished. He clutched at you a little more gently than before, nuzzling into your neck.

"Y/N..." your name fell off of his lips in a deep sigh. The smallest bit of guilt settled in with him now that he was 100% not under the influence of anything else.

You let yourself play with his hair softly as he spoke up, "I need to tell you something."

omggg I have this fanfic idea where reader is a new recruit in Alchemax but it takes miguel sometime to see you face to face and when he does it's a slap in the face for him and hes in utter shock because you're the spitting image of his wife in an alternate universe !!! he panics so bad because he knows in every universe there's a thing between you two whether it works or not so he does his best to stay away from you for your own safety, but one day he has to supervise the new discovery made by a group of researchers and you're one of them!!!! he mentally slaps himself because he didn't look into the id of the researchers beforehand but he didn't expect it because you're a new recruit !!! but you're a genius !!! and it only takes him the small interactions he has with you that day to lose his mind because you're such a deal breaker for him, he loves hearing you talk about your work and you seem so invested and committed and he respects that, he can hardly keep himself away from you from then on, stolen glances, accidental touches, and it only gets harder the more he has a chance to talk to you, until you get promoted and get to work in his personal laboratory, he can never escape his fate of falling head over heels for you.

godd I haven't written a fic in years and I KNOWW this will be in chapters if I did but omg I want to write for him I love him mi bibito

Audio Masterlist 🎧

Some 18+ audios that I’ve heard that sound a little like the LADS men to me.

They're not supposed to be them, but in the audio, it kinda matches the sounds or phrases they've said in their cards.

NOTE: These audio tracks are not from the game. They are 18+. Do not interact or listen if you are underage.

*WARNING: USE HEADPHONES 🎧*

Xavier

Zayne

Rafayel

Sylus

Caleb

Come Back

pairing : sam monroe x gn!reader | wc : 2.9k | 18+MINORS DNI

summary : No one's really there for him, except you. So after his night with one of Josh's clients, he looks for comfort in the way only you know how.

warnings : sam and user are in college, prostitution and drugs, internalized homophobia, toxic masculinity and slut shaming, hurt and comfort, smut, unhealthy coping skills, relationship is sort of toxic, sam is bipolar coded, oral ( m receiving ), degredation

a/n : sammy my beloved <3; tw for literally any of what was mentioned in the warnings.

You’re at your dorm room in bed with Sam, sat on his lap as he smokes a cigarette you stole from your step mom this morning. His eyes shut and his taps his foot along to the drums of the song playing on your stereo right now, one hand on the cigarette and the other on your waist, rubbing at you softly. You can hear one of your roommates banging at your door to try and get you to turn the music down but Sam just turns it up to drown her out.

You carefully outline his eyes with your eyeliner pencil and he’s perfectly pliant for you, letting you twist and turn his head without too much of a struggle. “Which band is this again?” You ask as you keep working.

Sam opens one of his eyes, and looks at you before grumbling, “A Perfect Circle.” He shifts his shoulders slightly and blows out his smoke before he talks again. “You almost done yet?”

“Yeah, just let me…” You murmur before you smear his eyeliner for him, when you're done, you lean in to kiss his forehead and his hands slide up to your chest. 

“Thanks babe.” Sam whispers, kissing you quickly on the lips before letting his hands slip below the hem of you shirt, deepening the kiss as he pulls you to him. You drop your eyeliner to hold him to you by the back of his head. As your tongues dance, you taste the lingering smoke in his mouth and his hands grab at your belt loops, holding you to his hips. Slowly, he starts to grind up against you, making you moan. He holds back a groan by sucking a hickey on your chest, a smirk lining his face when you gasp in surprise.

After another minute, his phone rings and he checks the caller before he all but shoves you to the side and stands up to answer it. As he starts to speak in a hushed tone over the phone, you look up at him, feeling upset that he was starting something he wasn’t finishing. You listen in closely and you know what he’s doing, his whispers of “only once” and a frustrated groan of “either 300 bucks or the weed?”

So when you hear him start to say goodbye, you loop two fingers through the top of his shorts, smirking up at him. “Sam… finish what you started.” You whine and he rolls his eyes.

“Lay off of me, I got things to do.” He says, pushing you off of him. You were used to his mood swings and moodiness, so you reach out and hold onto the hem of his shirt, trying to keep him close. “Where are you going?”

Sam groans and pulls at your hands. When you let go, so does he, so he turns to stare at you, his face inches from yours. “You can't keep me here, you know.”

“Can’t I try?” You murmur, grazing your lips against his

“You're persistent, aren't you?” He says, shutting his eyes as he runs his hands through your hair, leaning in for a long kiss. As soon as you kiss back, his grip tightens on the back of your head, allowing him to take control of the kiss.

“Don’t go meet up with Josh” You whisper softly, resting your forehead on his. “I know you need something, but maybe we can find something else.”

“You're cute but naive. We can't afford weed or anything else.” He says, his voice flat and his tone serious. “Josh doesn't have money but he does have drugs. And since I'm out of them, I need to get more.” He lean in as he moves his lips to your neck.

“But hes gonna…” You start but he cuts you off.

“He’s gonna pimp me out to some guy. Just gotta be some guy's bitch for 2 hours and I’ll get enough weed for a week. Just once, just this one time.” He murmurs, licking at your neck before he pull away, staring down at you. “I don't have any other choice. If I want to get my fix, then I do it or I don't get anything. It's my only option.”

“Just, be careful.” You murmur softly, kissing him again. “Come back here after, I'll be here waiting for you.”

“I'll be back in a few.” He says, straightening up, putting on his jacket and walking to the door. Then he pulls it open, walks out of your dorm and to Josh’s car. You can see Josh’s smarmy face from your window and he recognizes you, waving at you with a smile. You give him the finger before you wait to see Sam get in and leave.

A few hours later, the sun has disappeared and the night sky is visible. A car passes the dorm, then stops. And Sam gets out and walks up to the door, getting all the way to your room and knocking. “Y/N, are you here?” I wait a few seconds before trying again. “Y/N!”

After a second, you make it to the door and open it up. You’re just in your pajamas and your roommates are in the common room, looking over. “Sam.” You whisper breathlessly, looking him over.

“Hey.” He murmurs as he stands outside the door, visibly exhausted after what he went through. “Thanks for waiting for me.” He looks down, ashamed, knowing you saw him come out of a man's car.

“C'mon” You whisper, taking his hand and leading him over to your room and he follows you, sitting on the bed as you start to look for an extra towel and clothes for him. After a few minutes of silence, but Sam breaks it. “Do you still think less of me for what I did earlier?”

“No.” You whisper, exasperated. You drop what you’re holding and move over to him, cradling his face and kissing his cheek softly. He smiles hesitatingly, placing his hands on your hips as he leans in, pressing his lips against yours. He pulls you tighter into his arms, kissing you deeply and passionately. 

Sam’s mind is all over the place. He can feel the bag of weed in his jacket pocket but all he thinks about is the shame and the mans hands as they grabbed at him. When he shuts his eyes, its like he’s back in the car, feeling the old fuck’s thick fingers pawing at him. He had his own partner already, and they tried. They didn’t want him to go. Was some weed worth this? 

As he sits, Sam starts to subconsciously tug at his clothes in discomfort. When you notice this, you get all of the supplies you gathered and sit next to him. “You should take a shower.” You say gently, before giving him another one last kiss and stand up to find a towel for him.

He gives a sad grin at you over his shoulder, taking the towel. Then he goes shower and lingers under the hot water, cleaning the stench of the other man off him and leaning against the cool tile to cry. No matter how he felt, he couldn’t cry in front of you. Then he would be proving his asshole stepdad right, he’d be some fucking sissy. He punches at the tiles to distract himself before he takes a breath and focuses on finishing up. When Sam’s done, he towels himself dry and heads back to your room, smiling when he spots you laying on your twin sized mattress listening to music with your eyes shut to bide the time until he gets back. 

Be a man. Sam thinks to himself. Be a man. He watches you for a moment before getting dressed and laying down next to you with a sigh. Be a man. Be strong. She wont love you if you’re not tough. He scoots in behind you and softly kisses the back of your neck, laying his head next to yours. “Are you mad at me?” He places a hand on your hip, drawing your body closer to his.

When you realize that he’s back you pull of your headphones and toss them across the bed. “Why would I be mad at you?”

“Um…” He mutters, trying to remember what bullshit you told him about taking a breath and saying what you feel. “I have the feeling you think less of me for what I did today…” He whispers his lips lingering on the nape of your neck.

“I don’t.” You murmur, one of your hands brushing against his hand, causing him to nuzzle in closer to you. “I just don’t wanna push you do do anything you might not want to do. Sometimes… people need time before they feel comfortable being affectionate.”

“I’m not a bitch. If I wanna kiss you and touch you, I’ll fucking do it.” He growls against your neck, shutting his eyes as he leans his head into your neck, enjoying the warmth radiating off of you, his hands slide under the hem of your shirt, cool hands warming up as he rests them on your midriff. You let out a quiet hiss at his hands before you whisper.

“I care about you, Sam.” You whisper, letting him rest against you and staying still as he continues to readjust his body feeling out of place and wrong no matter how he rests against her. As he keeps moving, his frustration starts to bubble. Why wasn’t he able to just get comfortable, they had been dating for over a year, they’ve done this enough times for it to  make sense. “Sammy?” You ask quietly.

“Shut your trap! Can’t you see I’m trying to get comfortable?” He shouts before he moves away from you, facing the wall and resting his head in his hands.

After a few moments of stunned silence, Sam sighs, rubbing his eyes. “I needed the money, and that was the only way I could get it. But I feel dirty. I feel ashamed. Like I cant even look at you.” He grumbles, tears in his eyes. “I don't want you to hate me…”

“I don’t hate you.” You whisper, sitting up and crawling to his side, lifting his head to yours and kissing him gently. Instantly, he runs his fingers through your hair, hugging you to him. He closes his eyes, laying his head against your chest. 

“I'll be better. I promise I won't do any of this anymore... I just-” He sniffles, wiping his tears. “I just needed money. I didn't want to do it.”

“I know.” You say calmly, rubbing his back. “Do you feel like… emasculated?”

He stays quiet and takes a breath, trying to contain his emotions. “Yeah. I feel emasculated. I feel humiliated, disgusted with myself, dirty. It's just- I just feel so bad about myself.”

You stay silent for a moment, but slowly, he starts to turn to you. “I want to... I want to feel powerful again. I want to not feel like this anymore. I want to be in control.” He murmurs, tugging you to him again, his hands sliding up your pajama shirt as he tugs you on his lap. “Please?” He groans, leaning up to nibble on your collarbone, kissing his way up to the spot right under your ear, kissing you softly.

“Okay.” You murmur, reaching down to rub his shoulders gently. His eyes light up once you agree and he slowly kisses his way down your neck, gently biting you. His hands hold on your waist, pulling you tighter to him before he tugs your shirt off, throwing it across the room. 

“Did ‘ya know you taste really fucking sweet?” He whispers before he pulls you into a kiss, his tongue shoving its way into your mouth, hands grabbing at your waist. When he pulls away, you're both panting and he goes in again, biting at your lip and tongue, relishing in the way you jump and squeak. “You taste like mint and- uh… mint and”

“Coconut?” You offer, grinding your hips onto his, gasping as you feel his hardening member hit your thigh.

“Did I ask you?” Sam grunts as he tugs your hair back to kiss at your neck, sucking in hickeys across the base of your neck. “But yeah, coconut. Thanks babe.”

You beam with pride as he smiles, before he pulls you forward again and whispers in your ear. “You wanna make me feel in control? Wanna help me feel better? Get on your fucking knees and open your whore mouth.”

With a light push at your shoulders you get up and sit betweens Sam’s legs at the edge of your bed. You watch wordlessly as he unzips his pants, and stands to let his baggy shorts drop to his ankles. Once they pool on the ground, he sits and guides your head to him and you take a breath as you look at the sheer size of him, your mouth watering. You move on your own, your hands moving to give him a few quick strokes and watching as his eyes narrow at you and his chin juts out.

“What, you scared? Need me to hold your hand? Tell you how its done? We both know you’ve done this before, slut. I bet I’m not even in the first 20, probably not even the first 40.” He hisses at you, before you lean in and lick his tip, your eyes still looking up at him. Slowly, you start to slide him in your mouth and that earns you a groan, one of his hands, covered in a bunch of bracelets rushes to your head, gently rubbing your head as you ease him into your mouth.

You want to smile at him, but you focus on letting your mouth adjust, your nose resting against his trimmed pubes and the end of his cock hitting the back of your throat. No matter how mean he got with his words, his actions showed how he felt. He never rushed you, he wanted to make sure you were okay. And for a moment, you shut your eyes, letting him rub your scalp before you start to pull back, hollowing your cheeks as you find your rhythm. 

“Fuck.” Sam groans, his head falling back as he lets out a breath, only for his breathing to pick up. His eyes screw shut as he continues to rub your hair gently. “Perfect. Keep going.” He says breathlessly, and you watch him through half-lidded eyes. You hum and his hand grabs your hair tightly as his hips roll into your mouth on their own, set into motion by feeling of the vibrations on his cock. You keep moving, picking up speed as you listen to Sam’s groans and pants, and when you feel him start to tense up, you pull him out of his mouth. As you start stroking him until he cums on your face in thick ropes, you smile as you listen to his drawn out moans and gasps for air, giggling to yourself as the warm fluid hits your face and bare chest. Sam’s head is thrown back and you can see he’s smiling up at the ceiling, coming down from his high.

Once he’s drained, he lifts your chin and taps two of his fingers against your lips, smirking once you take them in your mouth. “Make sure you get them wet enough. Don’t need my little slut crying about how I didn't stretch them enough.”

Headcanon for boys being absolutely smitten by Mc Sfw and Nsfw plz

Hehehev

Aged up btw!!!

SFW

Sebastian

Stares at Mc during class and gets in trouble for it.

Will tuck hair behind their ear if it's out of place like mid-conversation (doesn't matter who its with professor or friend)

Will drag them into a classroom to kiss them all over their face and then send them on their way all giggly and dazed

Has one of Mcs buttons in his pocket at all times. It's his good luck charm

Tells Anne all about his relationship with Mc for advice (not everything everything ;p )

Writes them really cheesy and not so good love poems

Saves every note they write him in class

Ominis

He's so gentle I just know it

He takes a little walk every day and gives Mc the best-smelling flower of the day

When he kisses them he always holds the side of their face so he knows where the lips are

Will listen to any rant whatsoever he loves them

Is obsessed with them describing things to him

Likes when Mc drags him around to shoe him something

Anytime he lends mc a book or he returns something to mc he always leaves a little gift in between the pages

Garreth

Once thought Mc looked so beautiful he fell to his knees

Has a journal filled with all of his favorite memories with them

Always has a lil treat on hand for Mc

Will randomly take their hand and give them a lil spin

Rests his chin on their head frequently

Has sprinted across the castle to give them a hug because someone was like “haha ur partner said they missed ur hugs”

Will always buckle/tie their shoes for them

NSFW

Sebastian

Is obsessed with leaving hickeys it makes him so wild.

Will crumble if Mc leaves a lipstick mark

If mc gets all dressed up for him he will beg! It's who he is

Is really playful in bed

A bit rough will grab mcs thighs too hard

Sometimes stops mid-way to just look at them

Cannot be on the bottom for the life of him

Ominis

He takes his time!

He will ghost his fingers over Mcs body and leave goosebumps

Likes to feel their breath against his skin

Compliments them in between kisses

He likes to bury his face in their neck

Likes when Mc is on top he doesn't mind tho

Gets super flustered afterward

Garreth

Has said “yes sir/ma'am” a few times on accident

He does as he is told! On his knees? He's been there! On the bed? He's jumping on that bitch

Gets overwhelmed by how much he's enjoying it a lot

He is a leg man doesn't matter if mc hasn't shaved or if they're not toned

He likes to eat out if ya know what I mean

Insists on Mc finishing first

Does the best aftercare he likes to cuddle and will bring a rag

SPIDER-MAN: ACROSS THE SPIDER-VERSE (2023)

Sam Monroe Dating Headcanons

Credit to the gifs owner - Please be specific about characters wanted in requests 

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