#*crawls back down into the sewers*

[doverstar]

"Okay, first of all, one of you boys has some seriously-bad handwriting, so work on it. Second of all, what do you mean Julie's spirit is M.I.A? And why would it be in the 90s?"

Visuals For My Fics: Julie and the Phantoms from Caught in the Coruscate

[classyrbf]

ᯓ★ BETTER THAN YOUR BOYFRIEND! — JJK MEN

SYNOPSIS...what happens when your boyfriend cheats on you and you look towards your best friend for help

INFO...jjk men (toji, gojo, geto, nanami) x fem!reader, reader gets cheated on, riding, sending a video to your ex, oral (f!receiving), car sex, kinda cute/some fluff in the beginning, pet names (doll, princess, baby, sweetheart), creampie, possessiveness, choking, not proofread

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

ᯓ★ TOJI

When you showed up on Toji’s doorstep in the middle of the night with tears pouring down your face he was more than ready to kill whoever made your cry. He wasn’t surprised when you told him your shitty boyfriend had cheated on you and not with just one girl but multiple. Toji never liked your boyfriend, he could tell that guy was up no to good from the start, reading him like a book. He’d be sure to beat the shit out of him once he helped you gain composure.

“I’m sorry for showing up so late,” you hiccuped as he wiped your tears.

“Don’t worry about it, doll. You know I’m always here for you.” He gave you a soft smile. Toji hated to see you this way, you were too pretty to be crying over some guy who looked like he crawled from the sewers. “That guy was a piece of shit. You deserve better.”

“But, every guy I’ve been with or tried to be with has done me so wrong!” It only made more tears spill from your eyes. Toji engulfed you in a hug, rubbing your back. “Toji?” You sniffled.

“Yeah?” He pulled away from you, wiping your tears again.

“Kiss me. Right now,” you demanded. You had to see for yourself if what you’ve been feeling these last couple of weeks was absolutely true. Toji had zero clue, but you’ve been thinking about him way too much, more than a best friend should, feeling more than a best friend should. And when he planted his lips on yours, cupping your face, kissing you like a starved man, you didn’t quite expect your tears of sadness to be turned into tears of pleasure.

“Nnngh, Toji!” You moaned, his fat tip rubbing against your g-spot with each thrust of his hips. Your arms clung around his neck, fingers resting in his black silky hair.

“Can’t—mmm, fuck—believe he’d cheat on you! His fucking loss!” He growled in your ear, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist, hugging you close to him. Your pussy clenched down around him, milking him for his every worth, juices dripping down his length and onto his balls. “So tight, doll—oh shit!” He grunted. Lewd sounds of his balls slapping against your ass filled the room, echoing off the walls around you. “Been wanting you forever, craving you.”

Your brows furrow in pleasure, barely able to contain your moans as you and Toji stare into each others eyes. “M-me too!” You whimper, nodding your head at him. You lips messily interlock, tongue gliding against one another, swallowing each others moans.

“Let’s show him what he’s missing, baby.” He smirks, reaching for your phone on the couch. His thrusts come to a stop, clicking on your now ex boyfriend’s contact and opening the camera to record a video. “Go nice and slow for me,” he says huskily.

Slowly, you move your hips up and down his thick shaft, whimpering when you feel him throb against your walls. Toji angles the camera up, a devious look in his eye. He moves it back down when you start to move faster, you sloppy pussy squelching when you slam your hips down on his. Toji slaps your ass a few times before grabbing it, guiding your hips to go slower once again. “That’s it, doll. Good fucking girl,” he lowly chuckles in your ear. Toji ends the video, sending it and tossing the phone to the side.

“I can’t believe we actually did that,” you giggle, biting down on your lip. Not even one minute passed before your phone began ringing, vibrating on the couch but you were too busy getting your brains fucked out to even notice. “Ah, you’re so deep,” you mewl, the curve of his dick making your back arch.

“Better get used to it cause we won’t be stopping anytime soon.” He placed a wet kiss on your neck, sloppily thrusting into your poor pussy. “You’re my girl now.” He’s slamming your hips back down on his cock, fucking you deeply, making sure every inch of him is coated in your juices. He quickly pulls out, jerking his cock before thick globs of cum coat your skin before he’s inserting himself back inside your dripping entrance. Neither of you noticing the five missed calls and fifteen unread texts from your ex.

ᯓ★ GOJO

As soon as you called Gojo crying, he basically teleported to your house. When he learned that your boyfriend had cheated on you and you kicked him out, he was the least bit shocked. For the past month you’ve told Gojo that your boyfriend has been acting off, and finally the truth came to light.

“I’m so sorry,” he frowned, rubbing the top of your head as you cried into his chest. It hurt Gojo to see you like this, constantly seeing you get hurt by these shitty guys who didn’t know any better. He had a massive crush on for the longest time and he’s always been afraid to say anything. He’d treat you better, treat you the way you’ve always deserved.

“I just don’t it, Toru! Is it me? Did I do something wrong?” You frowned.

“No, no! It’s not you all! You’re absolutely perfect. He’s a fucking asshole for not seeing that sooner. You’re kind, funny, smart, and beautiful. You’re everyone’s dream girl, y/n.” It may have sounded like he was only trying to be nice, but in reality he was speaking from his heart.

“Awe, Toru, thank you,” you giggled through your tears. Gojo looked at you few seconds, the most sincere expression written on his face.

So how, in only a few minutes, did he make you go from giggling to moaning like bitch in heat?

“Feel better, princess?” He mumbles against your cunt, sucking on your swollen and sensitive clit. “Please tell me you feel better,” he whines.

“Toru—mmph! What’s—ah! Oh my god!” He slides his long, slender fingers into your sopping hole, pumping them in and out, curling them up slightly. Your jaw falls slack at the way his tongue expertly explores your folds, licking up every last drop of your essence. Your hand clings to his fluffy white hair, his hands pushing your legs open each time they threat to close around his head.

“Taste so good, princess. Just like I imagined—mmm,” he moans at your delectable taste, ignoring the way your squirming in his hold and clenching around his fingers as your second orgasm approaches. His captivating eyes flutter open to look at you, watching the way you lose yourself on his tongue. He could tell your boyfriend—ex boyfriend has never pleasured you like this before, let alone made you cum.

“Fuck!” You gasp. “Feels so good—hah, shit! Toruuu!” You cry out, legs quivering when the tip of his tongue runs back and forth over your clit.

“Promise me something, yeah?” He moves his fingers in and out of your sloppy hole slowly, bringing you right on the edge. “Be mine? I’ll treat you so good, princess. Been wanting to for the longest time, god, you’re so fucking perfect. Please?” He presses soft kisses to your thighs that make your breath hitch.

“You’re confessing now?!” You chuckle, trying to catch your breath.

Gojo smiles up at you. “Is that a yes?” He quirks a brow. He presses the pads of his fingers against your g-spot massaging slowly.

“Ah,” you bite down on your lip, “you’re no fair!” You run your fingers through his hair. “It’s a yessssuhh.” You’re barely able to get the word out before he dips his head between your legs again, his wet tongue circling your clit. “Shit, shit, shit, I’m cumming again!” Your head is thrown back as your entire body shakes with pleasure.

“Thank you, princess,” Gojo murmurs.

ᯓ★ NANAMI

Nanami noticed you haven’t been yourself for the past couple of days and he didn’t dare to ask but he had a feeling it had something to do with that obnoxious and egotistical boyfriend of yours. It always had something to do with him no matter what. He didn’t think of it when you asked him if you can come over and watch a movie, but not even five minutes in the door you start explaining everything. You didn’t cry, just talked and talked about it, venting about the situation. He was glad to be an ear. He’ll always be here to help.

“I’m just so frustrated and I hate feeling this way!” You rolled your eyes.

“Maybe you need to deal with it in other ways rather than venting,” he suggested.

“Like what? Drinking my problems away? I’d rather not.” You shook your head, waving your hand in dismissal.

What didn’t cross your mind was the fact your best friend was talking about having you bent over, fucking you into the mattress. “K-Ken! F-fuck!” Your eyes squeeze shut when he thrusts his hips harder, the tip of his swollen cock pressing into your sweet spot.

His thick fingers squeeze into your plush skin, pulling you back onto his cock. He leans over next to your ear, breath fanning against your skin sweaty skin. “He doesn’t know how to handle a woman like you. Not like I do.” He peppers kisses down your back, a contrast of you screaming his name.

Your walls squeeze around him at his words, your pussy somehow growing wetter than it already was, creating a sloppy and sticky mess where you two met. Your hands grasped the sheets below. “Yes, Ken, handle me, show me you can handle me!” You grit your teeth, looking back at him.

A feral growl escapes his throat, blonde hair clinging to his sweaty forehead. He reaches a hand down, grabbing a fistful of your hair and pushes your head into the mattress, the sound of skin to skin slapping against each other growing constant as he fucks your hard and deep with such a grueling pace. “I can handle you, sweetheart,” he chuckles deeply. “Better than your boyfriend.” He licks his lips.

“Mmm—ah, yes!” You laugh with a smile. “Ex.” You’re quick to correct.

“Who gives a fuck what he is—hah, shit, sweetheart, gripping me so damn tight.” He’s so focused on the way your ass ripples against his hips, addicted to how warm and wet your cunt is. It was hypnotizing. Your jaw hung open, eyes rolled back, drool spilling from the corner of your mouth and onto the bed below you. Each rut of his hips had you going stupid, barely able to think.

Successfully, you can say that his method of dealing with your problems has worked better than you could’ve imagined. “Feel so good inside me! Don’t stop!” You cry out, voice wavering. The stretch of his cock against your gummy walls had you craving more. So much more to the point you wanted to feel all of him. “Cum in me.” You’re bitting down your lip so hard you’re afraid you’ll draw blood.

Those three words have Nanami’s eyes wide in excitement. His body runs hot, your words making the blood rush straight to his pulsating cock. “D-don’t say stuff—mmph—like that,” he grunts.

“I thought you could handle me?” You’re smirking, playing with fire. His rough hands grip onto your hips harder, hard enough to leave bruises. Each thrust of his ragged hips shoots bolts of pleasure through your core.

His brows furrow in concentration, grunts and growls mixing in with your moans as his abs tense up, body jolting forward as his sloppily thrusts into your greedy hole. “I can handle you better than anyone else and you know it!” His hand swats your ass, a loud smack cracking in the air. “Nngh, shit!” Before he knows it, his tip kisses your cervix, pulling you back on his cock as his hot cum paints your walls.

ᯓ★ GETO

When you told Geto about your boyfriend cheating on you, he knew you’d needed to be comforted despite what you said. So he planned a day just for you to do your favorite things in attempts to take your mind off of things, but he could see that you were still thinking about it deep down. The both of you sat in the car, watching over the city lights while music quietly played on the radio. The orange sunset casted a hue over the world, shining brightly.

“I’m sorry I just can’t get it out of my head.” You pout, fiddling with your fingers. “I appreciate you doing this, Suguru.”

“Of course, y/n. It’s the least I could do.” He gave a half smile, caressing your back.

“It just keeps replaying over and over in my head,” you shut your eyes, “I hate it. Nothing takes my mind off of it no matter what!” You ran your hand over your face, slouching in the passenger seat.

“Well, there’s something we haven’t tried yet.” Geto raised a brow, shrugging his shoulders.

“What?” You asked, confused.

Minutes later your knees are to your chest, the sheer force of his hips rocking your body into the seat of the car. Strands from his messy bun cling to his forehead, sweat dripping between the divots of his abs. His calloused hand presses down on your lower abdomen, the pad of his thumb reaching down to rub your neglected clit. “Sugu!” You cry out, tears pricking the corner of your eyes.

The car shakes with his feral and animalistic thrusts, the curve of his cock finding your sweet spot, knocking the breath out of you. You’re panting and gasping, clawing at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. “Come on, baby, you can do it.” His lips quirk up into a smirk, his hand reaching out, slipping his fingers into your mouth to suck on. “Let it all go for me.” He moves at a rapid pace, your eyes rolling back and your body going limp, hands falling to your sides.

He removes his fingers from your mouth, his hands gliding down to your throat, fingers ghosting over your skin before he carefully wraps his hand around it, gripping it firmly. “I’ll make you forget everything about him. You want that, don’t you? Fill that pretty little head of yours with nothing else but me.” His sultry words send shivers down your spine. A devilish chuckle escapes from him when he feels you flutter around his throbbing length. “Nnngh,” he plants a wet kiss on your jaw, “cum for me.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck! I’m cumming!” You scream, eyes widening at the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you. “Yes, yes!” You squeal, legs shaking as he continues to rub your clit, dragging every last bit of your orgasm out of you.

His heavy balls slap against your ass at a rough pace, threatening to spill his seed inside of you. “Want to mark you, show that asshole who you’ve always belonged to!” Sinful eyes stare back at you.

Fat tears roll down your cheeks. “I’m yours! I’m y-yours! Ahh!” He puts more pressure on your clit, your body jolting, squirming beneath him.

“Hah, fuck, baby!” He moans, jaw falling open as he tosses his head back. He clenches his jaw, grunting as he keeps the same fervent tempo. He watches the way your filthy pussy clings to him so tightly, your juices forming a ring at the base of his cock, creating a sticky, slimy mess. His thrusts grow hasty, hungry for his orgasm, itching to see you coated in his cum.

He bullies his cock into your cunt, snarling and moaning at how rapidly his orgasm was nearing. He pulled out of you with a drawn out moan and instinctively your soft hand wrapped around his cock, pumping him until you felt warm cum drip onto your stomach.

[hintsofhoney]

Ladies With Experience

Paring(s): Dean Winchester x F!Reader

Summary: When Dean makes an off-handed comment about "preferring ladies with experience", you try (and fail) to not let it get under your skin. You're a virgin, but you've done just about everything else, and when you talk to Dean about it, he offers to be your first. He's your best friend, and you've been in love with him forever... who are you to deny him?

Tags: smut, first time, virgin!reader, dom/sub dynamics, dom!dean, p in v, oral (female receiving), spanking, fingering, not-so-innocent reader

Word Count: 5k

A/N: As always, thank you to my loves @wayward-dreamer and @makeadealwithdean for beta-ing. Would be nowhere without you two 🥰

You can also read me on Ao3!

DEAN WINCHESTER MASTERLIST | SUPERNATURAL MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

“Anyways, let’s say you’re right, fine. Who would want virgins?”

You know Sam didn’t mean it like that , and you felt stupid for letting it bother you. For letting this case bother you.

“You got me,” Dean replied with a shrug. “I prefer ladies with experience.” 

And there it was, like a punch straight to the gut. You hated that it hurt you as much as it did. So what, you’ve never had sex. But you’ve done almost everything else. You knew what you liked and what you didn't. You’ve been around the block a few times with the various sex toys in your nightstand drawer. It’s not like you weren’t experienced at all . But that didn’t make Dean’s words hurt any less. You swallowed down the burger and fries from lunch that were threatening to come up, before standing up from your seat at the small motel room table. 

The brothers looked at you, eyebrows raised.

“I — bathroom,” you managed, before quickly making your way there, slamming the door shut behind you. 

Staring at your reflection in the dirty bathroom mirror, you let the tears fall. Silently, you wiped them away as Dean’s words echoed in your head, and you hated that you loved him. Hated that you’d never be ballsy enough to admit it to him, especially now.

Something like five minutes passed and you knew you didn’t have long before one of the boys — likely Sam — would come knocking to check on you. You flushed the unused toilet so they wouldn’t suspect anything and turned on the faucet, splashing your tear-soaked face with cold water before using a hand towel to wipe it dry. When you emerged, the guys were packing up their duffels.

“Did you find them?” you asked, hopeful.

Dean checked his gun, before flipping the safety on and stuffing it in the back waistband of his jeans. 

“I sure as hell hope so, ‘cause if I’m about to crawl through the goddamn sewers for nothing —”

“They’re down there, Dean,” Sam replied, giving him a pointed look. He turned his attention to you, and if he had noticed anything off, he hadn’t let his face show it. “You coming?”

You grabbed your gun off the dresser and holstered it in reply.

Six hours later, the three of you were sweaty, panting, and splattered in blood after a close fight with dragons in the sewers. Thankfully, you hadn’t had to wade in any actual sewage. You hadn’t said a word to either brother since you had gone to the bathroom six hours ago, and to keep them from growing suspicious of your sudden silence, you opted to take a nap in the backseat of the Impala on the way back to the motel. 

You stirred awake as Dean pulled into the parking lot, barely conscious enough to catch the end of the brothers’ conversation.

“I’ll get her,” Dean said. 

Sam nodded and got out of the car, gently closing the passenger side door before heading inside. 

You rubbed your eyes, blinking away the sleep in them as Dean’s face came into focus. He was looking at you over his shoulder, one arm resting on the top of the front bench seat. 

“Mornin’, sunshine.”

It took a moment for the feeling you had been filled with prior to your nap to come back to you, his words from earlier echoing in your head. I prefer ladies with experience . You shot him a cold glare.

“Alright. What’d I do?” he asked, turning in his seat to better angle himself towards you. 

The question caught you off guard.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You haven’t said a word since we left for that hunt, Y/N.”

“How do you know Sam didn’t do something?”

He replied with a knowing look.

You stared at your hands, clasped together in your lap, and muttered, “It’s nothing. Stupid.”

“C’mon, talk to me,” he urged.

You hated this. How easy he was to talk to. How you had always been able to tell him what was on your mind.

But not this . You couldn’t tell him this. 

You shook your head. 

“Hey,” he said softly, shifting in his seat. He was fully turned around now, reaching out to tilt your chin up, forcing you to look at those green eyes. “Talk to me,” he repeated, no room for argument in his words.

“I can’t,” you whispered. You wanted to throw up. He was your best friend, and you were utterly, irrevocably, head-over-heels in love with him. He preferred girls with experience, and you had none. Not in the way that it mattered. And he had known that, thanks to a late-night stake-out game of Never Have I Ever . 

His jaw clenched. “You can tell me anything, you know that.”

You briefly met his gaze. You couldn’t hold it for long. 

“Was it something I said?” he prodded. 

You stared at the buttons of his open flannel, your eyes quickly darting up to meet his in silent confirmation. 

He sighed, pulling his hand away from your face and folding his arms on top of the backseat, resting his chin on his forearm.

“Do I at least get a hint?”

“Dean, I —”

“C’mon, Y/N. You’ve never not told me anything.”

“Why are you pushing this?”

“Because I can’t stand not talking to you.”

Your heart leaped at that confession, however innocent it might have been. 

“I’m talking to you now, aren’t I?”

“Because I’m making you. You would have silent treatmented me into next week.”

You didn’t respond.

He sighed again, defeated. “Y/N, c’mon. Please? Whatever I said, I’m sorry. I’m sure I didn’t mean it.”

“You didn’t mean that you ‘prefer girls with experience’?” you retorted quite sassily. The question tumbled out before you even had time to think of the implication that came with asking it. 

Dean opened and closed his mouth like a damn fish. 

“Thought so.” You began to move to make your way out of the car, when Dean reached out and grabbed your wrist.

“No,” he finally said. “I didn’t mean it.”

“It’s okay if you do. I told you, it was a dumb thing to be upset about.”

“No, it’s not. I didn’t stop to think about how this case might have been affecting you. You know I wouldn’t have let anything happen to you, right?” 

You swallowed, nodded. His hand felt like fire around your wrist.

“But for what it’s worth, I wasn’t serious. I don’t prefer anyone one way or the other. Sex is sex. If anyone’s willing to have it with me, I consider myself lucky.”

“Romantic,” you quipped.

A smile tugged at his lips. “I could show you, y’know.”

You almost threw up right there in the backseat. Your eyes grew wide.

“What?” you croaked.

“Well, if you’re worried about not having any experience… I just mean I’d be happy to, y’know. Show you the ropes.”

“… Of sex?” Really, you thought it was cute that he had this misconception of you. You knew about the ropes. You’d just never been tied up with them. 

“Of whatever you want.”

“You think I want to have sex with you?” It came out harsher than you meant it to, like part of you still thought you could hide the fact that you were in love with him. Like if you just joked it off it would go away, and you wouldn’t have to cross this line with him, even though you so badly wanted to. But you had to protect yourself, your heart. 

You didn’t miss the flash of hurt in his eyes.

“No, that’s not what I —”

You suddenly felt the need to clarify your question.

“No, I — I didn’t mean it like that either.”

Dean’s face morphed into one of confusion. “…So you do want to have sex with me?”

Your cheeks flushed red, and your throat bobbed. “Uh…”

“Forget it, stupid question, you don’t have to an—” 

“Yeah,” you answered, your voice barely above a whisper. Fuck it. Who were you to hold yourself back from the one thing you’ve been wanting for years? You cleared your throat. “Yeah, I really, really do.”

Dean’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “Seriously?”

“Oh, cut the shit, Dean. Like you’re surprised. Everyone wants to have sex with you.”

He scoffed. “ Everyone , Y/N, really?”

“There are literally smutty fanfictions written about you,” you replied, reaching into your back pocket for your phone, dead set on proving your point. 

“Gross. And Becky doesn’t count as everyone.”

“Actually, Becky only writes for Sam.”

You realized what you said at the same time he did, and he eyed you suspiciously.

“Why do you know that?”

God dammit. “I don’t. I mean — I — like, she obviously loves Sam. So, like, she wouldn’t write porn about you. Obviously.”

“Uh huh…” There was an uncomfortable silence for a beat or three. And then, “How much smut have you read about me?”

Your face felt like it had just been rinsed with fucking lava, and you knew it probably looked as red as it, too. 

“None!” you exclaimed, way too quickly. 

Dean smirked. “You do really wanna have sex with me,” he remarked, like he couldn’t believe it.

“Trust me, the urge is fading by the second.”

His grin disappeared almost instantly. “Would it help if I told you that I think about fucking you all the time, too?”

“Well, I don’t think about it all the —”

“Y/N.” He said your name like a warning, and the tone of his voice settled right in your core. 

“Yeah,” you squeaked. “Yeah, that helps.”

“Good,” he smirked, before grabbing his phone from beside him. 

“Uh… What are you doing?” You watched as he scrolled for a second, pressing a button before putting the phone to his ear.

“Telling Sammy to beat it.”

Your eyes grew wide. “What!?” you whisper-yelled. “No! Just — we can just do it back here!”

He gave you a pointed look. “I’m not taking your virginity in the backseat of my car, Y/N.”

“Why not!?”

“Because we’re not sixteen, for one. And for two… I wanna make it special.” He rushed the last bit out, like he was embarrassed to say it. And he should be. You cringed as you heard it. 

“Oh my God,” you began.

“Shut up.”

“You did not just say that.”

“Shut up. Sam, answer your phone, God dammit!”

“I have done, like, almost everything else, you know. In the backseats of many, many cars. You don’t need to make it special for me, Deano,” you teased. 

“For the last time, shut your mouth, or I’m gonna shut it for you,” he said, the look he gave letting you know he wasn’t in the mood to play. No, he wanted to fuck you. Beyond that, he wanted to dominate you. And you were more than happy to submit.

You might have been a virgin physically, but mentally? Mentally, you’d probably give Dean a run for his money. 

Sam didn’t answer. Naturally. He was probably in the shower, but you were kind of grateful because as much as you wanted Dean, you didn’t want to make Sam uncomfortable. Or worse, give him any reason to give you the talk . Because he totally would. After trying his brother two more times, Dean decided it would be better to just get a room of your own, and you were much happier with that decision. 

You watched as he unlocked the door, pushing it open and stepping aside, gesturing for you to go ahead. 

“Ladies first.”

“You mean you’re not gonna carry me over the threshold?” you joked. “Thought you wanted to make this special .”

He gave you an unamused look, and you shot back a sarcastic closed-mouth smile before you were being swept off of your feet and over his shoulder faster than you could process.

“Dean!” you squealed, as he carried you through the doorway, kicking the door shut behind him before practically throwing you onto the bed.

He was hovering over you seconds later, his face a few inches from yours, and the mood shifted from playful to serious.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked.

You nodded, your fingers coming up to play with the collar of his flannel.

“If I tell you something, you promise you won’t make fun of me?” you questioned, your eyes glued to the plaid pattern on his shirt.

“Promise.”

“I was kinda… holding out for you.” You drew your eyes up to meet his.

“Seriously?” he asked, half laughing. You could tell it wasn’t because he thought it was funny. It was because he couldn’t believe it.

You swallowed nervously, nodding again as you stared into those green eyes, and you hoped that this meant as much to him as it did to you. Something told you it did.

“I wasn’t kidding, you know,” he said.

You tilted your head in question.

“About making it special for you. I know it’s like, the grossest thing I could have possibly said but, you deserve so much better than me, and so if —”

“There’s no one better for me, you idiot.” And you almost told him everything. That you’ve been in love with him ever since you met one summer at Bobby’s, back when you were just kids. That everything felt like it led up to this moment. That you wanted him to fuck you and make love to you all at once. That you didn’t want this to be the only time he did. But instead, you grabbed his face in your hands and pulled him towards you, your lips meeting in a kiss that felt like it could have powered an entire country’s electric grid. 

He deepened it, and the two of you were nothing but tongues and teeth and lips — it wasn’t sexy. It was hungry. Starved, more like. Like he had been thinking about kissing you just as long as you had been thinking about him. 

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling his hips down towards your denim-covered core, down until you felt the hardness underneath his jeans pressed up against the spot where you needed him most, down until you couldn’t help but grind against it. He moaned as he kissed you, so you did it again. And again. And again. And —

“You need to stop that.” It wasn’t a suggestion. It was a command. You noticed that your arms were above your head, his hands pinning your wrists against the mattress. You don’t know when that happened, but you weren’t complaining. In fact, it spurred you on. 

You smiled mischievously and rutted against him once more. 

“What’re you gonna do about it, Winchester?”

He dropped his forehead to yours, steadying his breaths.

“I can fuck you like it’s your first time, or I can fuck you how I actually want to.”

“And how’s that?”

He took a shaky breath, like he was actually having a hard time controlling himself. You felt a sense of pride shoot through you at that.

“Like the fucking brat you are.”

You almost came from that alone. 

Wanna know some common misconceptions about virgins? That they don’t have kinks. That they don’t watch porn. That they don’t have a plethora of sex toys  in their nightstand. That they sit and crochet in their convent dorm room all day. Sure, you were years past the age when girls typically lose their virginity, but you were no saint. In fact, you enjoyed being quite the opposite. And you enjoyed being put in your place. 

“Do your worst.”

It was like something in him snapped. His eyes were lust-blown and hungry and you didn’t miss the way his jaw ticked, and then he was undressing you so fast that you could’ve been part of a quick change act. He muttered something about a light system as he took off your clothes, and you nodded in a way that let him know that you already knew how all of that worked. 

When you were down to just a black lace bra and panties, he paused as his fingers hooked under your waistband. He stared at you, his expression serious, and you knew that he was going to give you one more warning. One more opportunity to say, “Actually, I’d like to have a totally normal, non-kinky, first time experience, please.” But that wasn’t what you wanted. 

“You sure you know what you’re asking for?”

You rolled your eyes. “I trust you. Put me in my goddamn place, Winchester. You’ve only been wanting to do it for the past two hours.”

“Oh, I’ve been waiting to do it for a lot longer than that, sweetheart.”

“Really?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, yeah,” he replied, huffing a small laugh before pulling off your panties in one swift motion. His hands came to rest on your bare thighs as he locked his eyes with yours. “Any hard limits?”

You shook your head. “I trust you. I mean, like, don’t pee on me or —”

“Not gonna happen. But… most everything else?”

“Dean,” you began, looking at him pointedly, “I trust you. If it helps, I’ve used like, toys on myself before. And I don’t mean just a vibrator, I mean like… well, you get the gist.”

“So I don’t have to go easy on you, is what you’re saying?”

“Put me in my place,” you repeated.

“Alright,” he replied, his hands gripping the underside of your thighs as he roughly pushed them apart, “but just so we’re clear, that’s the last order you’ll be giving tonight.”

Your throat bobbed and you nodded. “Yes, Sir.” 

You meant it as a joke, but it didn’t come out that way. No, the title came out in a way that made his jaw clench and his eyes darken and it stoked the fire raging in your core. 

Dean didn’t waste any more time talking after that, his tongue moving through your folds seconds later, drawing gasps and soft moans from your lips. You arched into him, your hands in his hair, silently begging for more. It wasn’t the first time a man had gone down on you, but it was the first time it felt like this . 

He pinned your hips down to the bed with one hand splayed over your abdomen and then his tongue was inside you and “eating you out” didn’t come close to describing his ministrations. He was devouring you like his life depended on it, like the sounds you were making were a goddamn Zeppelin song that he wasn’t anywhere near done listening to. And then he added a finger, and then another, and it didn’t matter how many times you had imagined him doing this while you had your own fingers inside you — nothing would have prepared you for how good the real thing felt.

“Oh — fuck,” you gasped, and he chuckled into your sex and you had to actively think about not coming on his face and ending this whole experience early. 

“You’re close,” he observed, flicking his tongue over your clit as he continued to pump his fingers in and out, and it was so fucking hot how he just knew that. It was like he had been fucking you for years, the way he knew your body, your tells.

You nodded. “Mmhm,” you confirmed, unable to form words with the way the coil in your abdomen was tightening. 

“Hold it,” he ordered.

Your eyes shot open, because it wasn’t the command you were expecting, and you tried to lift your head to shoot him a cold glare but you couldn’t. And he just kept pumping, flicking, licking, chuckling — fucking asshole.

“Mm — fuck — please!” you cried out.

“When you come tonight, it’s gonna be on my cock. So hold it.”

You didn’t think you could. You had played this game with yourself and your vibrator and your self-control was majorly lacking and God his mouth and fingers felt so fucking good and you were there, the coil wound so goddamn tight, it would take nothing for you to let it snap, and then — 

He stopped.

He pulled his mouth away from your core, his fingers out of your pussy, and you were writhing underneath him, because you had been right there and you needed him to be touching you again right the fuck now.

You whined.

He spanked your pussy. Not hard or anything, just enough to see if it was okay with you, and fuck, was it. 

“Stop whining,” he demanded. He positioned himself so he was hovering over you again, his face inches away from yours as he stared into your eyes. “Or I’ll give you something to whine about.”

You were curious as to what that something would be, but sensed that right now wouldn’t be the best time for that question. You nodded instead.

“Good girl.” He smiled when he said it, like he knew exactly what those two words would do to you. 

You squirmed underneath him, it had been too long since he’d last touched you. Too long being thirty seconds at most, but still. It had felt like hours.

“Has anyone ever told you,” he began, dipping his head to place a soft kiss on your collarbone, “that you are very,” another kiss to the other side, “very,” one more to the middle of your chest, “impatient?” He slowly pulled down the left cup of your bra, your breast spilling out of it. “Makes me wanna take my time.” 

His eyes stayed glued to yours as his head moved down to your hardened nipple, taking it into his mouth at a goddamn snail’s pace. You arched your back, and he let you this time, chuckling at how easy it was to make your body react. His other hand slipped underneath you, unclasping your bra in a way that reminded you that he had a lot of experience doing so, and you refused to water the seed of jealousy that had sprouted from the thought. It didn’t matter that he had done this a million times. All that mattered was that he was doing it now, with you. 

He pulled your bra off and threw it haphazardly over his shoulder, and you were suddenly very aware of the fact that you were completely naked, and he still had 87 fucking layers on, the outermost of which was still speckled with dragon blood, and it’s not that you were anywhere near clean, but you certainly didn’t want those clothes touching your bare skin.

“Dean?” you rasped, and he pulled away from your nipple to give you his full attention.

“You okay, sweetheart? Do you want to st—”

“No! God, no. It’s just —” you sighed, exasperated. This was dumb. You were going to stop him for this? Your eyes landed on a spot of blood on the shoulder of his flannel. Yes, yes you were, because that’s gross. “It’s just that your clothes are covered in monster blood and I’m like, totally naked, and I don’t want —”

He chuckled like you were the most adorable thing he’d ever seen. “I gotchya, baby.”

Baby. Baby ? You tried not to overthink the pet name as he climbed off the bed to take his clothes off, watching you the entire time. Sweetheart, you’d been called a million times. He called everyone sweetheart. But baby? Baby was his car, and no one else. Unless, that’s what you were to him now. His, and no one else’s. You filed the thought away under “Things to Think About After You Lost Your Virginity to Dean Winchester”.

He was in nothing but his boxers now, his cock already hard underneath them, and you bit your lip as he hooked his thumbs under the waistband and slid them off. And then, there he was, exactly like you’d imagined him but also better, because this was real and happening. You gaped at him, at his size. He wasn’t any bigger than the fake one you had in your nightstand, but that one was nine inches and you could never fit it all the way in. He was perfect. All of him. 

“You okay?” he asked again, crawling back onto the bed.

“Mhm,” you managed, gulping.

He was on top of you again, his forearm holding up his weight as his free hand came to grab your thigh, hooking it over his hip and leaning down to kiss you. You could feel him against your core, his cock moving between your folds as he moved his hips, teasing you with it. 

“Dean,” you breathed.

“Hm?”

“I want…” you couldn’t find it in yourself to finish your request.

“I know, sweetheart,” he whispered.

You decided you liked “baby” better. 

“Please.”

“I thought you wanted me to put you in your place?”

You shook your head. “N-next time. Just, please .”

His eyebrows shot up, and you realized what you had said. 

“Next time, huh?” he asked, with that shit-eating grin of his. 

You rolled your eyes. He stopped moving, the smile wiped off his lips as he gripped you underneath your chin, somewhere between rough and gentle, the look on his face telling you he wasn’t messing around. 

“Roll your eyes at me again, and next time I’ll really do my worst.”

You bit back a smile, and you just knew he was thinking, Brat. But you asked your question anyway.

“But not this time?” There was a devilish gleam in your eyes. You were tempting him, and he knew it.

“Do you ever get tired of being such a brat?” 

“Dunno,” you shrugged. “Do you ever get tired of it?” 

His jaw tensed, and he forced a sardonic, closed-lip smile. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

“Hm. But not this time, right?”

“Y/N —” he warned.

“Afraid you’re gonna hurt me? Scare me? What’s really keeping you from putting me in my place… Sir?”

For the second time that night, something in him snapped. You yelped as he flipped you over and grabbed your hips, dragging them upwards so your ass was in the air and your chest was on the mattress. Four hits to your cheeks came down in quick succession, and when you reached your hand behind you to block them, it was quickly pinned to the small of your back. Three more hits followed, accompanied by a pathetic, “Ow!” from your lips.

“Color?” he questioned roughly.

“So fucking green,” you replied, dazed.

Seven more hits followed, each one harder than the last, and you didn’t think there was anything better than the sting you were feeling right now. There was nothing more you wanted than for him to mark you up like this.

“Fuck, you’re dripping,” he commented. Five more hits. 

“Oh, fuck!” you cried out at the last hit, one that felt like it reverberated through your entire body. One that definitely left a handprint behind. 

“Yeah, but you like it, don’t you?” It was a rhetorical question. He spanked you four more times. “You just wanted me to mark you up, is that it? Think of me every time you sit down for the next few days, hm?” Three more. 

“Mmph!” Your cries were muffled by the comforter. 

“Yeah, I can tell. Look at this fucking mess.” He dragged his fingers through your soaked folds. “Jesus Christ,” he said under his breath, and then he was flipping you back over. He nestled himself between your legs, his tip teasing your entrance. His expression softened as he stared into your eyes. “Are you sure?”

You nodded. “Yeah,” you replied breathily. 

He slid into you slow and easy, your mouth open in a silent moan as he bottomed out. 

“Good?” he asked.

“So fucking good.”

When he started to move, you thought you were going to die. In a good way. In a way that made you decide right there and then that when the time did come, this was how you wanted to go out. 

“Harder,” you encouraged, and he obliged. “Faster.”

He was properly fucking you now. Hard and fast and dirty. Your legs were wrapped around his waist, your heels digging into his ass, forcing him to go deeper. His head was buried in your neck, your nails were clawing up his back, and the room was filled with moans and pants and expletives that put a sailor’s mouth to shame. 

“Shit, baby,” he panted into your neck. “God damn, you feel good. So fucking tight.” He sped up his thrusts, and the bed was squeaking so much that you thought it was going to fall apart underneath you, but you were too far gone to care. He reached a hand down in between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit, circling it expertly. You were on the precipice of your release in seconds. And then —

“Come. Soak that fucking cock, baby. Come for me.”

And you screamed loud enough to get both you and him kicked out of the motel if they cared enough as your orgasm ripped through you. He fucked you through it, his pace only faltering moments later, right before he pulled out and painted your stomach white. It looked like a Jackson Pollock on your abdomen. Kinda hot, actually. 

“You okay?” Dean asked, looking down at you as he finally caught his breath.

“More than,” you smiled.

He mirrored the look on your face before crawling off the bed and heading to the bathroom. He came back moments later with a damp washcloth, gently cleaning his masterpiece off of your skin. When he was done, he threw it across the room, aiming for the bathroom, and it landed on the tile in front of the toilet. He laid down next to you, pulling you into his chest as he pressed a soft kiss into your hair, and you wanted to ask so many questions, all at once. What were you two now? How long had he been wanting this? Would there be a next time? Instead, you opted for —

“You know in fanfictions, they write you as a submissive most of the time.”

He snorted. “They’re half right.”

“A switch?” you asked, surprised. “Lucky me.”

He chuckled softly. “Sorry about your ass.”

You shrugged. “I was asking for it.”

“Oh, you were definitely asking for it. Still, I… I dunno. It was your first time, I didn’t want to get too —”

“It was perfect, Dean.”

“Yeah?”

You nodded, smiling, dozing off already. “Yeah.”

[yanderenightmare]

Mahito

♡ TW: NSFW, noncon, psychological torture

♡ FEM reader

Mahito is so scary because you're the only one who sees him. 

You can't tell your friends, you can't call the cops, you can't even discuss it with your therapist for fear of being committed. 

You're all alone with him—half the time convinced you’re going insane.

He doesn't even need to kidnap you. Why would he? He likes your cozy apartment. To see you in your natural habitat with all your personal trinkets. Your books, your decorations, the contents of your fridge, your makeup, your clothes, not to mention the soft warmth of your bed…

Sure, his sewer has its charm, but you probably wouldn’t like it there very much. Not that it would stop him, but he’s sure you’d be boring if all you did was stay cooped up there all day. 

This is much more interesting. To be there when you come home from work, having trifled through all your belongings, dragged everything out—made a mess like a new puppy would. To watch you try to cling to your sanity, going about life, trying to live it normally even when he’s right there on your sofa wanting to dish about how much you loath your pissy boss or that loud neighbor and what fun it might be to kill them.

You brush him off as intrusive thoughts—a manifestation within your mind. That’s the only explanation that allows you to keep your wits with you.

But it’s become hard to bring anyone home. Even though others can't see him, he’ll walk about your friends and the odd date and comment on all the things they do, ridiculing them when they say something cheesy, feigning puking before giving it away with a snicker, then asking you why you bother hanging out with them at all. And you wonder if that’s what you really think… why else would a figment of your imagination say something like that?

No. You decide. He doesn’t represent your thoughts. He’s just… a roommate who knows no boundaries. 

Funny enough, you don’t really recognize that he’s any dangerous before you’re getting dressed after a shower, opening a drawer on your dresser you rarely look in—only to find it overfilled with dozens of tiny shrunken heads.

You scurry back on the floor with your hand clasped over your mouth until your back meets your bed—skin crawling. There’s no air left in your lungs from the shock to produce any such thing as a scream—so instead, you start heaving—then crying.

“Oh—I was wondering when you’d find them!” A cheer is heard from your bedroom threshold.

Your eyes pan to look at him—or it. Mahito, with a big grin on his face—clapping as though impressed by your performance.

“Wh-what– what is this?” You splutter, trying not to throw up—casting shifty glances over at the lump that had fallen to the floor—its face twisted with agony, unrecognizable, but you think you still knew… “What have you done?”

It doesn’t smell of rot, but something else—like unwashed clothing – sweat and piss and shit—you don’t understand how you hadn’t smelled it before. You don’t understand how you hadn’t heard it before—the moaning, though only in hoarse weak voices, still there, in a chorus, crying in pain.

“I’ve been studying them.” He says—casually, padding across the floor before bending down to pick the one up.

He looked at it with disappointment, throwing it up and catching it like one would a baseball—then clicked his tongue. 

“But I must say you’ve got boring taste… I don’t feel like I learned much of use from any of them at all.” 

He drops it to the floor in a fleshy splat, and you cringed anew—wanting to crawl away, wanting to get out, to call the police—maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea to be committed—maybe there was something genuinely wrong with you…

Mahito doesn't share your concerns, though. He’s got his mind on other things. 

“I think I’ll learn better through practice.”

You don’t realize what he’s talking about before you’re being lifted up on the bed and then pushed down against it.

His lean but muscular frame has you dwarfed as he crawls after you—caging you between his arms and legs.

“I wouldn’t mind the floor, but I’m sure you’d prefer the bed. That’s how you humans usually like it, right?” He smiles—as though he’s doing you a favor. 

He’s taken off his usual tunic—showcasing a pale grey chest patchworked together in crude stitches—and you don’t really understand why you’d ever conjure something that looked like it. So human, yet still… so not. 

“I didn’t know what size you’d want—they were all so different—but I think bigger is better, isn’t it?”

It doesn’t register before you feel the weight of it on your stomach. 

Fat and warm, ridged with veins and hard against you. 

Looking down, feeling the situation settle on your skin like the raw cold—you realize, though you don’t understand it—Mahito isn’t just some imaginary friend. 

Whatever he is—he’s neither friend nor imaginary.

Your chest flares. “Mahito, no – ”

Your hands fly to try and push him off, but they’re easily caught. His fingers stretch inhumanly like playdough, using only one hand to reign in both wrists, pinning them to the pillow above you.

“No? Still too small?” He asks, as though your uproar had been a cry for more—his voice in a playful lilt. “I can make it bigger if you like~”

You squirm when the thing between your thighs grows an inch—swelling up into something fatter than your wrist—weighty and twitching atop you. 

It alone churns your guts, but the sight of his face gleaming so innocently makes it all so much worse. 

You whimper as he drags a rude finger through your folds—bluntly poking at your hole.

“You’re supposed to be wet, no?” He posed, keen eyes watching your face grimace in discomfort—drilling his digit inside you despite it. 

When knuckle-deep, he curled it, nail scraping into the gummy of your tender walls—making your whole body twist with an ache, shaking your head while sinking your teeth into your lip.

“Stop-” You croaked pitifully, still trying to wring your wrists free—but the hand keeping them jailed had hardened into something that was no longer skin.

He just yawned at your struggle. “So noisy...” Bored while looking down at you and the ugly way your lips curled at his crude fingering—but then his eyes widened. “Wait—oh! I get it now! So, this is what kissing is for…”

He didn’t give you much time to turn away before his mouth locked on yours—more in an attempt to swallow than to kiss, feeding you his tongue—which felt so much longer than it should be—winding through you until it licked your gag-reflex and made you choke.

You tensed in response, clenching the finger prodding you—and he took it as an invitation to squeeze another in—making you squeal out a sob in his mouth. 

But though it was a cruel ministration, it was enough to tickle the instinct—dragging wet out from within you, bathing the digits that now slid with greater ease in and out.

“See~ I told you I’d learn better through practice...” He mumbled against your lips—having felt the change—also noticing the quiet that befell you… looking so cute beneath him. 

He chuckled—the taste of your kiss still warm and wet on his lips.

“That really did shut you up, hm~ you humans are so funny.”

That thing resting heavily on your belly does a little jump, and you flinch with it. Left panting after being throat-fucked by a tongue—you’re really only able to shake your head as he slips the beastly thing down between your thighs—its fat head licking your clit on its way until kissing your entrance.

Two fingers haven't done you any justice—nothing could—to prep you for something of that size.

“I think this is correct…” He muses, nudging himself against the slim coin-sized hole—looking a little confused while he did so—though not exactly unsure of himself… more as though it was the whole procedure in and of itself that was at fault and not him. He was just following instructions, after all.

Sucking his teeth at the tautness, he continued to press the tip through you. 

A whine was ripped from your chest as it arched off the bed—thighs quaking on each side of his hips, kept spread despite wanting to force themselves shut.

“It’s better if you relax.” He offered then, though without much sympathy. Sounding almost jaded—as though you were keeping him waiting. 

But then a thumb pressed down on your clit, forcing another jolt to rush through you. 

“Women like to be touched here, right?” He rubbed crass circles into it—worse than amateurishly—rough patterns that bore no real intention of making you feel good. 

Then his mouth slid from your mouth, down your neck—only to sink teeth in your tit.

“And here~” He giggled while nomming your nipple, rolling the little nib between his teeth before flicking over it with his tongue again and again, sucking on it harshly.

None of it made you relax like he’d suggested. Either way, he continued to sink his length one thick chub at a time as fast as your hole allowed. And soon enough, he reached your end before your hole could reach his. But that was no issue…

The hand on your clit, cupped your mound instead—and beneath it, where warmth pooled, you felt inner things alter—change, rearrange, allowing the giant member inside you to sink deeper even though you knew there couldn’t possibly be any deeper to go.

“Wow~ look at that…” He awed when his pelvis smushed against your mound—kneading into your clit as he pressed a curious hand down on the bulge he was making in your belly.

Strings of drool stuck from his lips to your chest—and a sick look pooled in his eyes.

Thicker and thicker breaths left him. He swallowed thickly. Barely blinking.

“I think I get it now…” His voice had shed its humorous tone, now sounding soft with something you didn’t want to have the attention of. “It’s like our souls are playing together…” 

His hand stroked your stomach—like he was petting something you couldn't see.

“Feels good.”

♡ MAHITO masterlist ♡ JUJUTSU KAISEN masterlist

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

Crawl Into Place

~1k words

There is an itch in his bones when he's away from you. Jason can't put it into words, at least not in a way that doesn't make him sound crazy.

His fingers always twitch towards where you are. He can be halfway across Gotham and knee deep in the sewers, tracking a lead, and he'll just– reach for you. He can't help it.

There's a part of him that's missing, when you're not there. The familiar blanket of anxiety that always seems to well up from the pit of his stomach returns. His shoulders tense, and his throat tightens, and nothing seems right and everything is wrong, and he doesn't know what to do, and then he'll finally get home.

And it all disappears. His world comes down to a single focus– a clarity that only exists in your presence. Sometimes, you'll be awake, offering him a smile and hug and a mug of hot liquid. Sometimes, you'll be asleep, curled in the center of your bed, and tucked away from the horrors that linger in the shadows.

(Either way, he finds himself frozen in awe every time, stunned by the fact that you're still there, always there– waiting for him to return)

You asked him once, if he had a preference. And honestly, he doesn't. Jason just thrives when you're there. Awake. Asleep. That floaty place somewhere in between where you know enough to reach for him but not enough to speak. It doesn't matter, as long as you're there.

He needs that– you. He feels the claws of desperation sink into his flesh when he's without you. There is no sanctuary without your arms, no rest when your steady breathing isn't filling his ears.

He's never been so attached, so solely reliant on one person until you.

At first, he hated it. He's Jason Todd, Red Hood, ex-crime boss turned vigilante, and he's what? Dependent on whether or not you're around? He's happier when you're happy?

It was an embarrassment, a weight, something indescribable and unknowable. But now he can't think of anything better. You bring peace. He doesn't know how, but you do. Now he craves the smell of your soap, the softness of your weight against his, the heat of your touch, the taste of your skin on his tongue.

So he stashes his busted gear in his safe house, showers off the grime and the dirt, and he makes the staggered trek home to you. It would be easy to collapse on the old, dusted couch, of course. But it's worth every aching step when he'll end the night in your bed– at your side.

(He'll never give you a reason to believe he doesn't want to be there over everything else)

Something in his soul just settles at your closeness. A piece of him that never fits quite right in his chest snaps into place.

It's freeing, to have somewhere where he feels like he's truly meant to be. And in finding that with you, there isn't a thing in this world or the next that would keep him from being near you.

It's a big statement. He knows it, knows it could scare you off or be too heavy. So he doesn't speak it. He just stations himself in the same room as you, follows you from task to task, curls around you when he finally crawls into bed at night.

There is never a time when he's too weary to carry himself back to you, never a mission too grand to keep him from holding you close. Not in this world or the next.

It becomes a mantra for him, of sorts. In this world, he savors every second with you. In this world, he gets impatient when he's away for too long– gone too long without feeling your warmth. In this world, he loves you. And he will in the next.

He doesn't think you realize just how much he feels for you, how much his very essence is tied to you. And maybe it's better that you don't.

It's easier to let you laugh and joke about needing a bigger bed if he always sleeps next to you. (As if he'd entertain the idea, he likes being tangled so close he can feel the very rise and fall of your chest)

It's easier to let you tease him about being clingy when he curls his fingers into yours and lifts them to press a kiss to the back of your hand. (He loves the way you go shy no matter how many times he does it)

It's easier to let you put a doormat under your window sill and tell him to wipe his feet when he comes in, because having to vacuum every morning is getting real old. (He's happy to take off his boots wherever you want. He'll clean away the filth he leaves too, as long as he gets to stay)

Learning how you take your tea is easy. Learning what blankets go in what order on your bed is simple. Learning which closet you keep your jackets is thoughtless. Learning where you like to sit and read is quick.

What isn't easy is putting it all into words. How could he explain that the fractured parts of him mend together when the air filled with your laughter? How could he tell you that every step he takes is with the intent to return to you?

He can't say it. Doesn't know how. So he kisses your temple before he leaves your room. He holds you so close under the sheets that you might as well be one, even if the sun has been up for hours and his stomach is starting to growl. He engraves every smile and every word you gift him with onto his heart.

And he loves. No matter where the mission takes him. No matter how far he strays from your side. No matter how many nights and days he has to go without you. No matter what he has to do.

He finds his way back to you. He whispers his devotion into the shadows of the night and into the curve of your throat when your mind is too clouded with sleep to really understand what he's saying. He presses kisses filled with promises to your ear and vows he'll always be around to do so.

He breathes out his confession into the dark like he's scared something will break if he says it too loud. He loves you. So much. Maybe too much. But in this world and the next, he belongs next to you.

[allurilove]

Yandere Stalker x you

Rated 18 + — mature short content !

Includes: Stalking, blood, non con—he goes down on you without you knowing, fem reader, perverted and lewd behavior, again he’s weird and so delusional, mentions of violence against women.

*Happy Pride month!!! 🫶🏻This fic is influenced by You—specifically season one. I’m trying to give him a joe goldberg vibe. This is also part two, and check out part one and part three! Your stalker doesn't have a name, and this fic is in his point of view. This is purely fictional writing!*

Synopsis: Your stalker decides to celebrate one year of staking you by giving you a little visit.

What’s more dangerous than a lustful and starved man?

You wanna know what’s great about New York? That every apartment seemed to have a fire escape. Yours is tastefully decorated with a rug, and a small chair that has a plaid blanket draped over it. What's also so great about it is that it gives me access to you. You live on the fifth floor of this red-bricked building. It’s somewhat old but has a nice rustic charm. You seem to have an eye for knackered and worn-down things, as I’ve seen you pick up a used vanity and refurbished it. Inside, there’s a lobby with a doorman that is barely awake half of the time, he picks up a huge breakfast and clocks out after having a food coma. He's old, flabby, and not nearly ready to protect you like I am.

I seriously doubt he could jump over his desk and grab the throat of any danger coming your way. It's quite concerning, you know? You often sleep with your window open, and with the current rise in crime...you could get stabbed, kidnapped, bound and tied, and thrown into the back of a truck in a matter of seconds. Trust me, I have seen it happen before.

Don't get me wrong, it's understandable. It’s a hot spring day, and even if the moon gave the city a bit of a break from the sweltering heat, the lingering humidity continued to have a tight grip on everyone. Every crow resides in the trees for shade, every stray cat hiding in the alleyways, and even the rats seem content with steaming away in the sewers. The pavements are hot, the wind is hot, and you can see and smell the stench of people's BO in the air. I mean, c'mon... have they heard of deodorant?

June is just a month that comes before my favorite season.

Summer, and in other words: “An excuse to wear more revealing clothing.” There’s something amazing and titillating seeing you in tiny, tight tank tops, walking around in flip flops with freshly painted nails, and your hair up so I can see a bit of your neck.

And today marks one year since I first saw you. I know how you drink tea since coffee makes your head hurt, how you dance around your apartment after having a good day, and how you always leave your apartment at 12 p.m. for lunch.

I memorized the exact time you close your curtains for bed, just before I catch that perfect glimpse of you in your robe after a hot and steamy shower. I want to be your bath mat so badly. Step on my ribcage for all I care, and let droplets of water from your body fall onto my face. Let me see up your towel and gaze into what I consider to be the gates of heaven itself. Let me lift my head up so I can suck the remaining bathwater on you. Let me get all of my questions and prayers answered, and let me see all of you.

I have reached the top of the steps, my hand gripping onto the window to push it up higher, and I duck down to crawl into your bedroom. The floors seem to creak with every step I take, yet you haven't woken up. A heavy sleeper, are we?

My eyes adjust to the lack of lights. My pupils expand as I drink in your nude form. You look so serene with your soft snoring, your arms splattered, and my gaze traveled over the peaks of your tits rising and falling with your breathing. Your blanket was just thrown to the side, clearly disregarded with a bit of anger, and I could see the sheen of sweat on your forehead.

Your legs were already sprawled wide open-- a reward for my tremendous bravery. I lick my lips. I notice a white string sticking out from your underwear, and I reach out to gently tug on it. It looks stuck, and I wrap the string around my finger and give it an extra hard pull.

What could that be? I know you’re on your period, and I still have your pad that I grabbed from the trashcan earlier. I sort of understand what a period is, and all I really know is that the sight of your blood causes my head to spin. I pushed your panties to the side, and my curiosity piqued as I slowly removed the feminine product out of you.

I inspect the hygiene product I haven't really seen before. It looks different from a pad, and in my opinion it looks like a sperm— well the shape anyways. I put the tampon in my mouth, gently suckling it as if I were an infant. You taste salty, copper-like, and your plasma is warm. It's almost soothing. I then let the tampon fall out of my mouth. I tug on your underwear, pull it down from your legs, and stuff it into my pocket.

I rub my hands on your thighs, and I can feel the slight stubble on your legs. My fingers graze over your sex, and it follows the outline of your pussy. I put your legs on my shoulders, my head then leaning down so my tongue can lick stripes on your slit. The tip of my tongue touches the wet curls of your hair, and a frisson of pleasure runs down my spine. Your cunt is an eesome sight, the hair dampened by my saliva, and it covered your core like it was protecting the most precious jewel. And in a sense it was. I become more brazen, a single finger pushing inside you, and my jaw dropped at the sight of you sucking my finger in. You welcomed it so nicely, and there was a nice pressure of tightness.

I curl the single digit, intently staring at your face for any reactions towards my fingering. I use my thumb to circle your clit. I have read that some women can't come based on penetration alone. Hopefully, my tongue and fingers can help bring you to the brink of an orgasm.

I also hope that you never wake up. How else am I supposed to memorize your body? Would you even think that I am worthy of you? Or would you run away just by seeing my face alone? Would you think I'm crazy, or would you be flattered by the way I devour your cunt like it's my last meal? I hold your hips down firmly onto the bed, you're slowly squirming around and starting to gain consciousness.

It's like I'm drowning in a never-ending pool of crimson, and no matter how many times I swipe my tongue, it just oozes out of you so effortlessly. Your aroma is intoxicating, and it's like your body lured me--the prey-- into your little trap of ...

"Where are you going...?" I instinctively mutter as I miss the presence of your warmth against my mouth. You seem to crawl away, your limbs trying to save you from the repeated administrations of teasing.

My eyes shoot open as I realize that you're screaming. I immediately reel back, my ass landing onto the hard floor and I wince. "Shit-- I'm sorry!"

I scramble onto my feet and I try to duck every pillow you throw at me. I trip on my way out, and the wind gets knocked the fuck out of me as my bottom half got stuck in your window.

"This is literally my worst nightmare...!" I grunt as I try to wiggle my hips. I feel pain coming from my crotch, it's compressed against the window sill, and of course my dick had to be as hard as a rock.

You continue to hit whatever you see-- which means my ass. I yelp as you put your hands on my bottom, and you muster as much strength as you can to get me out of your house.

Why is this oddly arousing?

With one final shove I landed onto my face.

There's nothing dignifying about walking down the street with a clear boner and a bloody nose. I just look like a pervert that got punched after leering at someone. Wait.

No, that's not what I was doing. I'm not a pervert. I just have wandering eyes that are glued to whatever you're doing. I just happened to notice how your chest bounced around when you were running late and had to run out of the house. I happened to carry a tiny vial to collect any fluid and essences that dripped out of you after our encounter. My hand reached into my pocket, and I sighed in relief as I am comforted by the soft material of your panties and of the long plastic tube. I feel a sense of relief knowing that they didn't fall out as you kicked me out.

Am I crazy? No. Am I the only man you'll ever meet that has done this to you? Probably. I am one of a kind, after all.

Allure: Someone slap some sense into him.

[dcxdpdabbles]

How about one where Danny saves Tim after Damian cuts Tim’s line?

Danny is throwing out his trash when a hero falls into his arms. He had just finished settling the lid of the bin, stretched his two arms outwards, lacing his fingers together to pop them, and the very second he unlaced them, he heard the shout of alarm.

Glancing up, Danny watches in open astonishment as a body descends from heaven, and he barely has the time to bend his elbows into a catch as the body slams into his arms.

Thankfully, Danny was quick enough to cushion the landing with a big ectoplasm, letting it burst from his forearms and spreading into a makeshift glove that deflates as soon as he catches the body.

Owlishly, he blinks at the white lens of a mask that belongs to the man he caught. A vigilante, one of those bats, he thinks. Danny doesn't pay much attention to the news regarding them, so he has no idea who he's holding.

The other seems frozen in shock, so Danny looks at the sky, wondering where he came from. Standing at the edge is Robin, looking genuinely unsettled.

A rope swings in the wind, obviously been cut. The impaled knife shaped like an R is on the wall next to it. The same R that the kid is wearing on his uniform. His parents are genuine, but it doesn't take Danny long to figure out what happened.

The kid cut this guy's line, which could have easily killed him if not severely harmed him. In all his mature wisdom, Danny does the most natural thing to him.

He flips the bird, jolting the human in his arms into a more comfortable carry and retreating back into the manhole he had crawled out of. The kid seems startled, flipping down from the building, but it will be too late by the time he gets down.

Danny had actually placed a portal to his house in the Infinite Realms right at the diameter of the manhole. The second Danny recovers them with the metal plate, he swings back into the yard of his lovely garden and snaps his fingers to seal off the portal.

By the time the child gets the manhole cover, all he will see is the entranceway to Gotham's sewers. He may even be tempted to search for them, but Danny and his guest will be on an entirely different dimension.

The man in his arms slumps in his hold, looking utterly exhausted. "Where are we?"

"My house. Would you like to come in for some coffee?"

There is a moment where the stranger thinks it over before shrugging, "Why not."

Later, Danny realizes that the easy way Tim allowed himself to be brought inside was a facade. The little shit had just been gathering information on him before he flipped the table and attempted to beat Danny up with impressive martial arts techniques.

Then he stole his specter speeder, flying off into the Realms while Danny wheezed on the ground. Rude. He even took Danny's inbox of who knows what artifacts.

Danny was tasked with discovering their purpose and fixing them as his part-time job as a Ghostly Artifact repairman. Now, his client's stuff was stolen by a spandex-wearing weirdo from what he called the "Trash Dimension."

All because some other spandex-wearing ninja chose to cut his line.

"Crude, one of Clockwork's time amulets was in there," He mutters, wobbling to his feet and shifting into Phantom. He better catch the human before the idiot messed with a timeline. Last time, he took his trash out on a Wednesday and the usual Thursday. This is what happens when he breaks his routines.

[ihaznoclue]

hello! Can we have movie shadow x a seriously hurt reader prehaps? The reader is now close to death after them getting the second cannon key and shadow finds them close to deaths door and saves them after growing close to them as the mission for revenge has gone on?

Pairings -> Shadow the Hedgehog x Reader

Warnings -> Injuries, near death experiences, getting shot

Note -> Reader gets seriously injured when getting the second key luckily shadow finds them and saves them

Genre -> Angst

Shadow The Hedgehog

This was your mission, a mission that you couldn't mess up or there will be consequences for you You were willing to help for shadow, his revenge for his friends death. You wanted to help shadow, after all his pain and suffering you wanted to help him get his revenge towards G.U.N.

You didn't like G.U.N either, many things you hated about them and you wanted to change everything that they did.

Now your mission was to get the second key from the G.U.N base that was in London. You never been to London before but here you were now in the G.U.N base, quietly getting through security.

Luckily you went through the vents to get to the place you needed to be, crawling the tight space as you looked to the side to see so many G.U.N members walking around keeping guard.

You were nervous yes but you were willing to do this, because you agreed that instead of the Robotniks to get the key you would do it instead.

Shadow didn't like the idea of you going alone but you reassured him that you will be fine as you would go in and out quickly.

Shadow stayed with Stone in the crab underground in the sewers, watching a film movie while you and the Robotniks went inside. Shadow was staying put until he was told to help just in case.

You were crawling a little bit more in the vents trying to keep quiet, hearing voices here and there as you finally reached where the key would be.

You needed to kick down the vent in order to get out, which was a bad idea as it made so much noise so you waited for a couple of seconds to here if anyone was coming.

No-one

You sighed in relief as you got out of the vents as you stood up stretching form being in that tight ass vents for so long.

The place was empty and quiet which was a bit eerie for you but you spotted the key, you were going to reach it but..

"Hold it right there!"

well shit.. you were caught

You knew that would happen for kicking the vents so God damn loud so you froze putting on a act to help save you from getting shot or something like that.

"Turn around and put your hand where I can see them"

You obeyed as you turned around and put your hands up, you need to think of something to get out of this situation

All that you could do was

Run?

Hide?

Get shot?

Run it is...

"Come back here!"

You ran and ran where your feet could go, that was until shot were fire towards you

"Are you kidding me?!" You shouted as you ran passed more guys as they put up there Guns

You didn't know where the exit was and if you did go to the exit you were sure there would be more people there to stop you from leaving

You were scared that you were going to die, as you turned a corner a shot hit your shoulder which caused you to scream

Blood staining your clothes as you ran more, a another shot hit the side of your hip only slightly as more blood came out

You were sure going to lose a lot of blood for this, you turned around as you saw no-one following you anymore as you lost them

You then hit your head on the wall as you came to a dead end, your head was throbbing as you slouched down of the wall into sitting

You needed to get someone to come and get you

Whispering Shadow's name as then everything went black as you passed out

With Shadow, he was with the second key as he took it from Tom who he thought was the commander

Now all he needed is to find you, hoping you were okay as he used chaos control to teleport everywhere in the base to find you

Eventually he did as he spotted you in a terrible state he didn't want to see you in, blood spilling on the floor, who ever did this to you would pay but he needed to get you out of here

He never used chaos control with a human before but he was willing to try to get you to safety and to get you healed

He needed to save you or else he would lose both of the people he loved and cared for the most

He wanted to you alive and he was willing to fight for it

-A<3

[flamingpudding]

Glitterbombs for rogues

A/N: I got sick over the holidays. So I did not do any of the writing I originally wanted to do. So instead of that Christmas Story you get this Mark Rober inspired little tidbit.

Tim had a new favorite Engineer Youtube. The boy was a bit younger than him but a genius Engineer judging by the hand full of videos Tim had marathoned through. According to the listed self-introduction part of the video, Danny was currently an engineering student in Gotham with the goal to work one day for NASA. (Tim held out some hopes that he maybe could snag the kid for WE if possible. He had already sent out an internship offer after the third video he had watched)

Either way, Danny had potential and ideas that borderlined on mad science. But made his videos of his little projects even more entertaining and interesting to watch. Tim's favorite so far was Danny's explanation on how he reconstructed his toaster so that it would launch itself into space after the third his roommate burned toast with it. He did buy his roommate a new toaster at the end of the video though.

Still Tim liked this guy and his videos. So with anticipation he clicked on one of the newer videos. The title having caught his attention: 'Why Glitter'.

Instead of the usual introduction bit with little highlights of Danny's previous project the video started out with a big fat warning in red letter to not attempt to replicate anything in the video. That had Tim very curious already, but then a little video clip following that had Tim spitting out the coffee he was just sipping from.

Thankfully he missed spitting on his phone, still he jumped out of his cozy bed where he had been watching YouTube on his phone and hurried over to his laptop. The video, meanwhile, was continuing playing. He could hear the usual music from the introduction part as well as Danny's voice explaining his reasosn -which were valid, Tim had to agree with some of them- once that part was done.

By now he had fired up his laptop and was researching. The video in the background was explaining how Danny had build his Glitterbombs similar to the once another youtuber had but slightly modified them since he was not going to use fart-spray. Tim eyes widened as he found the first correlating news articles, wondering how they hadn't seen them sooner, but a glance at the date revealed that they were only posted a couple of hours ago.

Danny in the video was no explaining about his fist chooses victim and Tim dived onto his bed from his desk to get his phone back in his hands. Wide eyed, he watched as Danny obviously with a GoPro strapped to his head, crawled through what looked like an air vent. Once he reached an opening he looked through the slits into what appeared to be Riddlers hide out. Danny took the Camara of his head so that he could grin into it making the sign for silence as he barely contained his own chuckles. The other then waited for a moment, the camera work now getting wonky and the video even glitching out but a second later Danny was back in focuse before pointing down and then directing the Camara to his view. There in Riddlers hideout now sat Danny's self engineered glitterbomb.

"No he didn't..." Tim muttered as the video cut to a different scene. Danny was now walking through the sewers, humming cheerfully while explaining why he chose who he choose.

Another cut and... Tim spluttered. How the hell did Danny manage to just walk into Arkam?! So he hadn't seen wrong at the beginning of the video.

Growing paller with every cut on how Danny delivered his self-engineered Glitter bombs, Tim started to fear for his new favorite youtubers safety. Thankfully he had already done his work on Danny's person when he sent the internship offer. Now he just needed to get Danny to freaking safty.

He dragged himself to his laptop still in disbelieve as various clips of the rogues getting glitterbombed from the bombs perspective started playing. And yep, he definitely didn't see wrong now in the beginning. The Joker was one of Danny's chooses victums. Aside from the fact that he was so going to download and save that video for eternity as well as share it with his brothers and friends, (because as funny as it was that most of them were Gotham rogues, Luther and another millionaire by the name of Masters had also been made victims.), he still had to figure out how to ensure this definitely insane youtubers safer from the warmth of 90% of their rogues now.

Great newly discovered favorite youtuber has just painted a big fat red target on himself.

Tim was just about to call everyone in when a bonus at the end of Danny's video started to play.

He recognized that safe house.

He recognizes the weapons displayed on the walls also.

Oh... that's...

Still laughing Tim still sent out a message to everyone. When asked why all he did was sent them the link to the video with to timestamps.

The first one of the Joker getting glitterbombed

The second one being Red Hood getting glitterbombed.

[hunniebunniebear]

DO YOU THINK

GGODDDDD

Do you think when Silco found Powder, freshly jinx, sobbing for her sister, breaking down completely, he hesitated because not only did she remind him of himself but of the exact events that followed his own rebirth?

Do you think when he finally crawled onto the pilts shore, he too screamed and yelled for vander to come back. That he shattered to pieces as the last person left that believed he was more than the dirty little thing he’d been born as, that he’d THOUGHT believed him to be more, left him as barely more than a drowned sewer rat. His throat ripped raw from the wailing grief that Vander was right he had killed the only other person who cared for his dirty, wretched self, when he’d only been trying to help. He’d only been trying to set them free. She died and it was his fault. Vander, please!

And no ome came to him on that cold shore. His rebirth was cold and agonising.

So when he looks upon this girl, her shattering to pieces, he knows (among many things) he can offer her what little warmth he has left.

[morethanmemory]

Cold on during a night?

Crawl into Phosphorus' bed without anyone noticing so the guards can have a little freakout in the morning <3

Pairing: Doctor Phosphorus/Reader

Warnings: None; Some suggestive touching

Notes: Thank you for the request, anon! Just some short Phosphorus fluff for y'all (: Reader has draconic heritage so Phosphorus's radioactive flames don't burn because uhhh I said so ! Y'all will not believe the amount of research I did on underground temperatures and sewer lines just to see if it made sense for the non-human wing to be cold, and yes, Belle Reve (according to wiki) is in Louisiana!

---

Winter at Belle Reve is, by far, the worst season. This deep underground, the Non-Human Internment Division should be marginally warmer than the world above, but fifty years of deteriorating, shitty-to-begin-with insulation has left the entire wing about as toasty as the North Pole. The old concrete does little to ward off the night chill, especially when it rains. Nestled within a web of storm drains and sewer lines, coupled with crappy plumbing, the Non-Human wing is the unfortunate victim of leaky pipes and dank cells every Louisiana winter.

Phosphorus's personal hellhole is no exception.

Plink. A drop lands on his brow, evaporating the moment it touches his radioactive skin. Hiss. He turns with a grumble, tugging the threadbare, itchy blanket over his head. Plink. Another droplet hits his foot. Hiss.

Cold. Wet. Miserable. Winter at Belle Reve is, by far, the worst season.

But, there is one bright side.

The air vent in the center of his room shudders, filling the cell with the groan of rusty metal. A second later, you're unceremoniously tumbling from his ceiling like a baby bird tossed from its nest. You land by his bed in a crumpled heap, and he has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from bursting into laughter.

With a pained moan, you get to your feet, dusting off the cobwebs that cling to your uniform.

"You really stuck the landing this time," he snickers softly as he props himself up on his elbows to get a better look at you.

"Fuck off," you hiss under your breath. You pick a dead spider from between the silver scales running up your forearm and flick it at him with a scoff. It burns to a crisp as he yelps in disgust.

Still, he lifts his blanket as you pad nearer.

"You're a terrible house guest."

"Oh, I'm sorry," you apologize dramatically, placing a hand over your heart as you hover above him. "You must forgive me. I believe I forgot my fucks in the air ducts about three cells back."

You can hear him rolling his eyes even as he reaches up to place his hand on your hip.

"You're a real comedian tonight, aren't you?" he murmurs playfully. His hand slides to the small of your back, gently pulling you down beside him. The old mattress springs shriek in squeaky horror beneath your combined weight, squealing as you both shuffle under the single sheet.

You stifle a laugh as his head hits the concrete wall behind him in his haste to make space for you, and Phosphorus pinches your hip in retaliation.

"Shut it, Smaug the Terrible," he mutters, drawing you closer. "I'm trying to be a gentleman."

A soft chuckle slips past your lips, and you fix him with an amused look. "You? A gentleman?"

"Is it that unbelievable?"

Your silence answers him loud and clear.

"Asshole," he huffs, pulling the blanket over you, and you can't help but giggle.

His warmth, radioactive and sickly as it is, is a welcome reprieve from the biting cold of the cell. The phosphorescent glow of his skin illuminates your features, glinting off your silver scales like the Northern Lights dancing over a dark lake. Soft shadows stretch themselves over the rough scutes along your brow and cheeks, and you let out a quiet, happy hum as he gently traces the jagged trail of scales with his thumb.

He doesn't tell you that you're hogging the blanket or that you've yanked it high enough to leave his feet bared to the seemingly endless drip of freezing water from the pipes above. Instead, Phosphorus lazily drapes his arm around your waist and tugs you closer.

"You'd think we'd at least get upgraded to bigger beds for saving the world," he grouses, fingers slipping beneath the hem of your shirt in search of soft skin and sharp scales.

"What, the ping-pong table wasn't thanks enough?"

Phosphorus snorts out a light laugh and catches your chin between his thumb and forefinger. "I would've preferred they approved my other request."

"The cafeteria soda fountain?" you grin as the tip of his thumb drags along your bottom lip. He leans closer, close enough that you can feel his breath dance down the bridge of your nose. Slowly, Phosphorus tips your head back until your warm eyes meet his hollow sockets.

"Yeah, sure," he whispers, lips brushing your own. "The soda fountain."

You can't see it, but you know he's smiling, can feel the curve of it as his lips press against yours. And then, he's kissing you. Slow, soft, sweet. He cradles your face in the same hand that's melted through the flesh and bone of countless men. His touch, though, is anything but deadly.

The hand under your shirt travels higher, mapping out the arch of your spine and the ridge of razor-sharp spikes running up it, and you whine for more. More of this tenderness neither of you have known in so, so long. The tip of his tongue drags over the seam of your lips, and you let him in without a fight. Sharp words fail you both in the face of this soft sweetness. The warmth that rolls off his tongue is still unfamiliar but not unwelcome. It seeps into every fiber of your being, liquid hot in your veins, molten metal down your throat. You should burn beneath his hands, crumble to ash and dust like everything else he's ever known, but you don't.

Your hands swiftly find their way to his jaw with a clumsy desperation, and sparks shoot across his skin as your scales scrape against it. He moans into your open mouth, fighting down a hungry growl, but his body betrays him. His hand hikes your shirt up; his hips roll against your own. He's kissing you a little faster, a little harder.

Plink.

The splatter of one, two, three droplets of ice-cold water against your forehead cuts through the building heat between the two of you, and you pull away with a quiet giggle. Phosphorus groans, a low rumble caught between irritation and amusement, chasing after your lips.

Plink. Plink. He sneezes as a few drops of water tickle his nose. Hiss.

With a defeated sigh and a final nip at your bottom lip, Phosphorus relents, surrendering to the battalion of leaking pipes. At least, he thinks, you're still here, laughing in his arms. As your laughter fades, you bury your face in his chest and breathe him in deep. He smells like the world after a thunderstorm, and your eyes drift shut as you commit the scent to memory.

"Don't let me fall asleep," you yawn, nestling yourself against him despite how his prison-issued shirt scratches your cheeks. "The guards—"

"I know," he shushes you, kissing your forehead. "I won't."

He tries his best. Really, he does. He talks to you about everything under the sun. Nuclear physics, his favorite composer, the time he watched Weasel spend five minutes trying to hack up a fork. You tell him about ancient runes, your favorite authors, the time you ate a police officer (completely in self-defense) and nearly choked on his femur.

Leaving before sun-up, sneaking out before the guards catch you, making sure you don't fall asleep so the scales you've grown above the tracker in your neck can stay up and disrupt the location transmission—they're all an excuse. Because, truth be told, all either of you really want are a few more stolen moments. Another story shared in hushed whispers beneath his fraying bedsheet. Another teasing touch that leaves you both wanting more. Another hour, minute, second. You don't remember falling asleep.

When you wake, it's to angry shouts and rough hands. One moment, you're wrapped up in Phosphorus's sturdy arms; the next, you're face down in a puddle of dirty water on the floor of his cell, pinned down by a guard that smells of nacho cheese. You feel the unmistakable burn of blazing radiation fill the tiny room, see the bright glare of his skin flaring like wildfire before your eyes, hear a shrill shriek of a horrified guard echo against the concrete walls. For a split second, you think it might actually work this time, that your fight for a few more moments won't be futile, but a skull-splitting pain rips through your body. You know Phosphorus feels it too when he limply lands beside you with a dull thud.

Your eyes meet, and with the little strength he has left after the shock, Phosphorus reaches out to brush his hand against yours.

Solitary confinement for the week is worth it. Every time.

[slash-me-please]

Hi! Can I request a Fem!Reader x Pennywise Smut where pennywise uses his tounge to fuck reader?

Literallsfsdfsdfsdfsdsdsd yes you can. I haven't written for Pennywise in a GRIP.

I present to you:

Drops from a Nectarine

warnings: fem receiving oral, dub!con, cunnilingus

Sun pours in through the open shades fallen onto your bay window. Eyes fluttering open with an exasperated moan, you turn your head to the side to get away from your offender. They do not follow. Your head sinks into the plush, microfiber sheets of your full-sized bed and for once, you decide to stay. Your bliss isn't taken advantage of, dread filling your chest as the overwhelming feeling of an uninvited visitor overcame the morning euphoria.

"Good morning, Bee." He tumbled over his words. That fucking clown. You tense, legs curling up and away from the foot of your bed.

"Go away Clown..." You murmured, voice shaky and unstable as his gloved hands pressed down on your sheets. He was covered in a thick layer of grime, as he was always. The sewers were no place to live, and a sewer-dweller had no place in your room. But still, he insisted, mimicked knuckles spreading and pulling against your clean sheets and effectively ruining them from further use. You'd have to burn them later, it was the only way.

"Buzz... Buzz... Buzz..." His head twisted rapidly towards you, faintly jingling as he crawled up your bed with a twisted grin. Pennywise's puffy red lips dripped with saliva, you watched a little too long to be the perfect victim. "You always know where to sting." You turn away as he lunges, towering over your frail, be it in comparison, body. Your limbs begin to shake with fear, anticipation as he watches over you with a blank expression.

"Why are you here Pennywise." You ask, it comes as a plea, and you fall deeper into the plush safety of your dirtied sheets. He gives you a smile, a fake one, which has your stomach twisting with something evil. "I am... hungry." He replies to your question as if it had been a simple answer, not one you had tossed and turned for the last few nights. "I do not fear you."

Pennywise grips you by the thighs, claws breaking through makeshift gloves to rip apart your underwear to shreds. "I've had my fill on fear... I am satiated." He giggles, head tilting downwards to glare at your exposed cunt. "I need a different type of food." And so he leans, his claws pushing your legs backwards and into a position which had you gritting your teeth. One that would have him giggling his crazy little giggle again.

With that, his tongue extends and begins to lap at your swollen folds. He holds you down as he tortures you with a callous tongue. His head ducks further, spreading them open to reveal your aching clit- which he nudges with his large tongue again. Your hands find his hair as you arch against the bed, pushing your heat against his dripping tongue. He tortures your clit with a cruel precision, one that has you knowing he's racked up quite the body count in his thousands of years alive. You cannot bring yourself to care, a whimper falling from bitten lips.

"I told you not to come back!" You sobbed, legs involuntarily squeezing around his head. And his head drops further with that, tongue parting you to dip inside your warm heat. Pennywise moans against your cunt, eyes rolling back and teeth enveloping the lower part of your pelvis. It felt as if he was eating the soul inside of you, yourself slipping through the closed fingers of your spirit and falling into his mouth where you'd meet your sweet demise. His tongue pistoned in and out of you, sucking in your wetness with loud slurps and squelching. You'd never been eaten out in such a way, eaten like he wanted more than just your sex. Like he wanted you.

"God!" You cried, pushing against his head as his claws drew blood from your skin. It rolled down your thighs and into your sheets, the same ones you had ran your fingers through and grabbed. Pennywise jingled for a moment, tongue rubbing against the roof of your heat as you thrusted your hips against his mouth. "Mm close!" You gasp, fingers rubbing against his head as his hands hold you in place.

Pennywise chose not to respond, instead his chest rumbled with a feral growl as he pushed his tongue impossibly deep into your cunt, a gloved thumb moving to rub circles around your clit. And with a loud whine, you released into his mouth. He drank you in like you tasted better than any blood that had ever touched his tongue. Back curled over your pelvis as he held your heat flush with his face, his eyes were rolled back and his teeth had sunk deep into your skin. Fear erupted with the blossomed pleasure which ran hot through your veins and Pennywise audibly moaned.

"Let go..." You gasped, pushing lightly at his hands. You already wanted to go back to sleep. Luckily he obliged, pulling away from you and licking his lips with a lewd glare. It didn't take long before he dropped your legs and crawled over your shaking body. You pressed your hand against his chest and sighed. "You'll be back?" You mumble, and he slots his thumb between your lips. "Can't get enough of this cunt..." You release a hollow giggle, nipping at the tip of a gloved finger and pushing Pennywise away. He watches you slip underneath the covers and stays until you fall back into a restful sleep.

He'll be back.

[idontcaboose]

Haunted Car Au part 16

Probably won't see another update for 2 weeks? ish? Work is going nuts, and weddings to go to. Yay. But look! Babs pov!

Previous. Masterpost

Barbara Gordon knew she could find anyone if she really tried. The fact that she had such a hard time finding one boy was getting to her. She could back track the boy, Danny, all around Gotham, only losing him briefly when he stayed in Jason's turf. If it was only the cameras that were giving her issues, she could push down the annoyance, but as far as she could tell, the kid didn't exist. The farthest back she could find of him was him crawling out of a sewer drain about five months ago. No missing persons, no CPS reports, nothing.

There were days where the kid would return to the sewer grate and disappear for the day, which was concerning, but he would always return.

Barbara made notes to have the Bat-boys search the sewers for some weird commune of families. Hopefully it was that and not some strange sewer cult like the Court of Owls. It does beg the question of why Danny ventured to the surface and no one else, and how he was able to stay on the surface for days and only check in with the sewer once a week. She would expect that it would be the other way around if he had any semblance of a good family life.

Barbara leaned back in her chair and rubbed her eyes. What she was able to backdate on the cameras showed a kid that just wanted to help the other unfortunate kids around him. From making heaters from scrap, to bandaging alley girls, the kid was a saint in hell. She wasn't sure which would be better for the kid, either the Wayne's would have a new brother by the end of the month, or the family will be moping about for a good while.

Sighing, she shut down her computers and went to bed. Jason was still looking and said he was going to check the Batmobile itself for clues, it will probably be a few hours before he checks in, might as well take a needed nap.

“I'm a Barbie girl, in a Barbie woooorrrlllddd”

Next

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[roosterforme]

Always Ever Only You Part 32 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You try to keep it together as much as you can in Annapolis, but that's easier said than done. Bradley realizes that while this week feels unbearable, a deployment would be much worse. And you cautiously tell Bradley there are two people you think should be the first ones to know about the baby.

Warnings: Swearing, adult language, pregnancy topics, angst, fluff

Length: 4100 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order. Always Ever Only You masterlist. Gorgeous banner by @mak-32

Monday morning came way too early on the east coast, especially when you barely slept and couldn't stop throwing up. "Why?" you groaned from your spot on the floor next to the toilet. You had exactly three hours until you had to give your presentation at 10:00, but Cat was already texting you from her hotel room across the hallway about getting breakfast. You'd be lucky if you could stomach a single peanut butter cracker and squeeze yourself into your uniform on time. 

You crawled back out to the bedroom and rummaged in your suitcase for one of the ginger candies Bradley packed for you. It couldn't hurt at this point, so you shoved it in your mouth and pulled yourself up onto the bed. It was amazing that you could possibly feel this shitty. Your ribs and back hurt from constantly throwing up, and you were starting to feel dehydrated, but the idea of drinking something was too taxing to even consider.

"Why are you so mean?" you moaned as you rolled onto your side, letting your hand rest on your belly. "I actually love you, and you're being so mean to me all the time. Why?" You sucked on the candy and laughed. "You'll prefer your dad, I can already tell." 

You kind of wanted to call him, but you didn't want to wake him up at four in the morning, so you settled on trying to get dressed instead. It was amazing that you did nothing but throw up, yet you were still all bloated and puffy. Your khaki pants were a little too snug for comfort, but you had no other option at the moment. When you looked at your butt in the mirror, you shrugged. 

"Whatever," you whispered, buttoning your shirt as your stomach growled angrily. "Please, make up your mind," you begged your body as you heard a knock at your door. You pasted on a fake smile and opened it to reveal Cat Coleman looking like a million fucking dollars while you looked like a sewer rat. "Morning," you rasped.

Her eyes went a little wide as she pushed your door open. "Did you not get any sleep? You look awful."

You huffed out a breath, realizing you buttoned your shirt up wrong. "I'm fine," you muttered as you fixed it. "I'm just not quite ready to go yet."

"Yes, I gathered that much," she replied, eying you up and down. "Are you going to be able to present today? Because I can't do this without you."

You shot her a scathing look. "Of course I can present today. I'm fine. Great. Golden." You were in all honesty on the verge of throwing up again.

"Okay," she said with zero conviction. "Well, just knock on my door when you want to grab some breakfast and head over to the Naval Academy."

"Will do," you promised her. As soon as she was gone, you gagged into the toilet one more time before brushing your teeth and putting on enough makeup to hide the fact that it looked like you were going to fall over. 

You felt weak as you tried to eat a pack of crackers so your stomach had something in it. This was a lot easier when Bradley was with you, rubbing your back and holding a glass of cold water for you to take sips from. You moaned softly and fought against the tears. If you thought about him too long, you were going to cry. Or worse... start to get turned on. 

"I don't have time for this," you whined as you checked your phone. How was it already 8:00? Fuck, it was still too early to call Bradley, but now your mom and dad were both texting you to see if you were coming for dinner on Thursday. You knew you were going to have to invite Cat to come with you, since you only had one rental car. The idea of trying to get through the night with all of them was too much to consider at the moment. 

Ignore it. Ignore everything. That was all you could do. Ignore. Ignore. Ignore. Focus on the presentation. Focus on not throwing up. That was the key.

You knocked on Cat's door, and she opened it immediately, dragging the tub of equipment out into the hallway with her. "It's late, so I figured we would eat breakfast and then head right to the conference?"

"Sure," you replied, picking up one end of the tub. But it really was heavy, and you struggled to get it to the elevator with her. "I'm actually not that hungry, so we can just get whatever you want on the way."

Cat scoffed. "I wanted to eat at Waffle House. I miss Annapolis so much."

Just thinking about the sticky floors and smell of maple syrup was turning your stomach at the moment. "Maybe we can do that tomorrow morning instead? Since we don't have our second presentation until Wednesday?"

"Fine," Cat agreed, and the two of you took the bin out to the rental car. She offered to drive, and you let her. Apparently you fell asleep on the ten minute ride, and she had to wake you up to go through security. "They want your ID card to get through the gate," she said, shaking your shoulder. 

"Oh," you groaned, digging it out of your pocket and handing it to her. 

"Seriously, are you sure you're okay?" she whispered as the guards inspected the car.

"Just jetlag," you promised, resisting the urge to roll down the window and barf. "I'm totally fine. Let's get this show on the road."

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

Bradley poked at his burrito bowl in the cafeteria. Even the green hot sauce wasn't helping his mood since you couldn't actually eat it right now. It was just making him sad. He'd written five pages in the notebook for the baby, but it just made him miss you more. He wondered what you were doing right now. Surely your presentation must be over, but he hadn't heard from you. Maybe you had already checked in with Bickel. Maybe he should go up and talk to your boss and see?

"Wow," Nat said, snapping her fingers in front of his face. "Focus, Rooster."

"I'm sorry," he replied, trying to give her his full attention. "What did you say?"

"I asked you three times if you wanted to go see the new Tom Cruise movie with me tonight. I have a coupon for a free large popcorn that's about to expire."

"Yes. Absolutely." He'd do anything to keep himself busy this week. "What time?"

"6:30. I'll pick you up so you can call your wife from the car and talk to her before she goes to sleep east coast time."

"Sounds good," he agreed, taking his phone out to let you know about his plans. After work, when he was eating a bowl of cereal for dinner, you finally wrote back. 

Baby Girl Bradshaw: The first presentation went pretty well. Have fun at the movie. I love you.

"That's it?" he asked Tramp after reading the message twice. Nat knocked on the door at the same time he called you. 

When you answered with a soft, "Roo," followed by a groan, he had to take a deep breath.

"You okay, Sweetheart?" he asked as he headed for the front door to let his friend in.

"No," you moaned. "I had a rough day. I feel disgusting, and now your voice is making me horny."

This was admittedly not the best time for phone sex. He paused as he said, "Nat just got here, but if you need me to cancel the movie plans, I can do that."

"No," you gasped, "don't cancel your plans. Go have fun. We can talk tomorrow."

He shook his head as he said, "I'd rather talk to you now. I'll cancel."

"No! We can talk now. Put me on speaker so I can say hi to Nat."

"Fine," he agreed, unlocking and opening his front door. Tramp made a run for Nat as Bradley tapped the icon for speakerphone and said, "My wife wants to say hi to you."

His best friend took the phone right out of his hand and had a full conversation with you while she rummaged through the refrigerator and helped herself to a seltzer. Bradley stood there as patiently as he could, simultaneously feeling annoyed that you were telling Nat all about your presentation while also feeling relieved that he remembered to hide the ultrasound photos. You and his friend laughed and laughed together, and then he started tapping his wrist to get her to move things along.

"We'll be late," he told Nat, and she rolled her eyes at him.

"Here's your husband back," she told you. "Have fun in Annapolis. Who knows, maybe you'll meet someone less annoying."

"Don't tell her that," Bradley said as he turned off speakerphone. "Don't listen to her, Sweetheart."

But you were just laughing now as he held the phone to his ear and followed Nat out to the driveway. He had to kick aside so much trash to get in her car, he was about to offer to drive instead, but she was already starting the engine. "This is fucking disgusting," he told her, covering the mouthpiece of his phone. "Clean your shit."

She just tore out of the driveway and said, "Talk to your wife before we get to the theater."

"Are you in the car?" you asked softly.

"Yeah. Unfortunately," he grunted. "Can you tell me about your presentation?"

"I nailed it even though I threw up so much this morning," you told him, but then you moaned. "Am I on speakerphone?" 

"No."

"Bradley! I am so fucking horny, Daddy!" Your voice was extra whiny, and the last thing Bradley wanted was an erection in front of his best friend, but he could hear in your voice how badly you needed him. "I was talking to Commander Patterson after my presentation, and I swear Roo, he asked me if Top Gun aviation was a good fit for me, and all I could think about was your cock the whole time. I even told him that things from Top Gun aviation are a really snug fit for me!"

Bradley felt his cheeks warm up. He had no idea who Commander Patterson was, but he said, "I think Top Gun aviation is the place for you, Sweetheart. Nothing else is gonna fit you quite right."

"Bradley!" you whined, and the sound went straight to his cock as Nat adjusted the air conditioner settings. "Fuck, you remember that time you fucked me in the back of our Bronco after I texted you dirty photos at dinner?"

"Yeah," he grunted, closing his eyes and actually trying not to think about it.

"Remember on our honeymoon when you finger fucked your cum into my pussy and then traced my tattoo?"

He growled out your first name. "I absolutely do, but I think perhaps we should talk about that later?"

"Yes, yes, you're right. I'm sorry. I'm going to get my vibrators out and listen to old voicemail messages you left for me so I can get off, okay? Have fun at the movie. I love you."

The call went dead right as Nat pulled into the parking lot, and the trash at Bradley's feet shifted as she went careening over a speed bump. He was trying to catch his breath. All he really wanted was a little more information about your presentation and to make sure you and the nugget were okay, but what he got was a semi that he was trying to keep at bay.

"If I get nachos and a soft pretzel and popcorn will you eat some?" she asked as she parked. 

"Yeah," he grunted as he unbuckled his seatbelt. 

"Listen," Nat said as she fixed her hair in the mirror. "I know you miss her, and rightfully so since she's way cooler than you, but if you just give me one word answers all night, it's going to piss me off."

"Sorry," he added, trying to remember how to talk. Right now you were possibly getting off while listening to old voicemail messages that you kept? Of him just talking to you? Jesus, why was that making him so hot?

Nat was glaring at him now. He needed to focus.

"I'm sorry. No more one word answers. Let's go. It's time for Tom Cruise."

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

When you woke up on Tuesday, you were snuggled up and so warm, you reached for Bradley. "Roo?" But when you opened your eyes, you were met with the sterile looking hotel room through your blurry vision. Now you remembered talking to Nat and Bradley on the phone before masturbating and falling asleep. When you sat up in bed, you definitely didn't feel as awful as you expected. And when you eased yourself to standing, you were surprised that your stomach didn't lurch. 

You had one text message from your husband, and when you put your glasses on to read it, you laughed. 

Bradley Rooster Bradshaw <3 <3 <3: baby girl, i'm going to need you to describe in detail for me exactly how you got off. while listening to my voicemails? please, as much detail as you can. i hope you came hard thinking about me. i love you. the movie was good. i'll take you next week if you want.

You wrote back to tell him that you did in fact come while you listened to a long rambling voicemail he left you a few months ago about how he left the house without his shopping list and made it all the way to Costco before he realized it. "Your Daddy has a nice voice, little nugget," you whispered, pressing one gentle palm to your belly. 

It was 8:30, and you didn't have too much planned for the day other than breakfast at Waffle House with Cat. You had to give another presentation tomorrow, and you were excited to talk to some more superior officers afterwards. You were also supposed to make it to a cocktail hour this evening, but you were planning on ditching it and hoping Cat could network for both of you. It would be nearly impossible to avoid drinking without drawing attention to yourself when there were waiters walking around with flutes of champagne. 

You took a quick shower and got yourself ready, and you tapped on Cat's door. When she opened it, she eyed you skeptically. "You look so much better today. Everything okay?"

"I think it was just the jetlag," you told her smoothly. "Wanna go to Waffle House?"

"Hell yes," she replied, turning to grab her bag. "Hopefully we don't run into my ex or anyone I used to work with."

In all your morning sickness and preparation back in San Diego, you had forgotten that Cat also had roots in Maryland. "If we run into Mike, point him out to me. I'll punch him in the face."

She laughed. "I would personally love to see that."

You drove the rental car through the familiar town to the diner you'd been to many times with Cam when you were at the Naval Academy together. You snapped a picture to send to him before walking inside. Sure enough, the floors were sticky, but it smelled like strong coffee, and your stomach started growling. You silently prayed that whatever you ate managed to stay down, at least until you were alone again. 

"What are your plans for the rest of the day?" Cat asked you as you glanced at the menu, a little disappointed that they didn't have avocado toast. 

"I thought maybe I would take a nap at some point."

"Oh, that's actually a great idea. I might do that as well. I never get a full night of sleep when I'm home with Jeremiah."

You ordered a stack of pancakes and some bacon and then listened to Cat order the signature waffle. When the waitress wandered away, you asked, "Is Jake watching him this week?" with a little smirk. You already knew he was. Well, him and Hondo both were.

She played with the container of sugar and didn't meet your eyes as she said, "I think this week will make or break my relationship with Jake."

"Why?" you gasped. 

She was quiet for a moment as she glanced out the window. "He practically begged me to let him help watch Jeremiah. So he and Uncle Bernie are sharing duties. I just... know how my uncle feels about Jake. They clash, and none of it is really Jake's fault. I just need to make some decisions when we get back."

Your stomach lurched. "What kind of decisions?"

She shrugged and poked her silverware. "If they can't get along, then I'll have to decide if I can reasonably keep putting everyone through this. I'll likely never be able to afford my own place, and Bernie is the only family I still talk to. But Jake...." She had a dreamy look in her eyes as she said, "I wasn't expecting to ever fall in love again."

The only thing you could think to say was, "He loves Jeremiah."

She didn't humor you with a response. Instead she asked, "Are you planning on seeing your parents while we're here?"

"Yeah," you answered as the food arrived. "About that... you mind if I use the car on Thursday evening? You're more than welcome to join me, but they want me to have dinner with them at home."

"You can use the car all you want," she replied. "And I'll think about it. Thanks." As you were coating your food in syrup, she asked, "Weren't Bradley's parents from Maryland as well?"

"Virginia," you replied immediately. "They were both from the Norfolk area. Nick grew up closer to the beach, and Carole grew up in the city." As you took a bite of pancake, your stomach growled awkwardly, but a warm thought lit up in your mind. "Hey, so you wouldn't mind too much if I actually used the car today?"

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

Bradley was in the air all day on Tuesday, and he kept looking at his little collection of photos longingly. He had one of you from when the two of you were dating. You were mid laugh, face lit up, looking right at him. And then he had a wedding photo as well. It was the one the photographer took where the sun was just hitting the horizon behind you. And now he also had a little stack of ultrasound pictures to look at.

When his comms crackled to life, he tucked the photos away and got himself in position for some tactical dog fighting with Nat and Bob. Bradley loved flying, but more and more he had been considering what might come next for him. One day he could get injured or fail an eye exam. Then what? Other than being home with you and the nugget at that point, he didn't know what else the Navy could offer him.

"Tally, tally!" Bob called out, and Bradley easily dodged the attack. He knew he was good. He knew he was the right mix of cautious and impulsive. He had to be. But there also needed to be more, because if this week was teaching him anything, it was that too many long deployments away from his family would be unbearable. 

When he finally touched down on the runway at 2:30, he was hungry and thirsty, and Maverick dismissed him to the rec room along with Nat and Bob. When he checked his phone, he had a bunch of missed calls and texts from you. 

"Hey, you go ahead," he told them. "I'll be there in a minute."

"Alright," Bob replied, and Bradley watched them walk inside the tower while he read your most recent message. 

Baby Girl Bradshaw: I have a little surprise for you. Any chance you can facetime?

He had no idea what you could have in mind for him. A little surprise could be anything. Shit, it could be dirty. He glanced around before tucking himself up against the side of the building with his aviators perched on his nose. He dropped his helmet gently to the ground and ran his fingers through his sweaty hair as he called you. 

"Bradley!"

Your gorgeous face filled his phone screen, and he smiled immediately. "Hey, Sweetheart. You look pretty."

"Thank you. I feel good today."

"How's the nugget?"

You laughed. "As finicky as ever."

You were obviously outside somewhere, and the sky was cloudy behind you as you walked past some trees. "Where are you? And what's my surprise?"

You bit your lip and looked between the phone screen and something else before you knelt down on the ground. "I just had this silly idea earlier when I was eating breakfast." You tilted the phone away from your face, and then Bradley knew exactly where you were. "But I thought we could tell them the news together? Let them be the first to know?"

He pulled his sunglasses from his face and stared at his phone screen as tears blurred his vision. "Baby Girl," he gasped as he looked at his parents' gravesite. Both headstones were decorated with fresh flowers which you must have just placed there today, and you had tucked an ultrasound photo underneath a few pebbles as well.

"Do you want to tell them?" you asked, your voice just the softest whisper that made him ache even more. 

"Yeah," he managed to say as he fought to keep his composure as a tear slid down his cheek. "Hey, Mom. Hey, Dad. That's not just my perfect wife sitting there with you. That's your grandchild, too."

He could hear you laughing and crying at the same time as you rearranged the pebbles. "Still just a nugget right now, but we'll bring him or her back again someday. Right, Roo?" you asked, turning the phone back to your gorgeous face. 

Bradley nodded as he sobbed. "Yeah," he rasped as you smiled at him and swiped at your own tears. "Of course. The three of us will come back together. We can have a picnic. Let the kiddo meet Grandma Carole and Grampy Goose."

"That sounds perfect."

"Hey, Sweetheart?" he managed as he cried. "I fucking love you so much. You know that, right?"

Your voice was still soft, and Bradley wanted to melt into it. "Yeah. I know."

He wiped his cheeks with the rough sleeve of his flight suit as he asked, "You really drove three and a half hours from Annapolis to the cemetery?"

You curled up on your side next to the ultrasound photo as you said, "Yeah. It seemed like a no-brainer. I thought they should be the first ones to know."

"Fuck." He had to fight for composure. "I would marry you a hundred times. A thousand times. I would marry you a million fucking times, Sweetheart."

You laughed softly. "I'd let you."

Those were some of the sweetest words Bradley had ever heard in his life, and you said them as you and the baby were curled up there with the memory of his mom and dad. He would literally never get over how perfect you really were. 

Then you popped up and groaned, "Oh no." And Bradley was treated to the vivid facetime experience of watching you run a few feet to your left before you threw up in the shrubs. 

"Take some deep breaths," he coaxed, just like he would if you were in the bathroom at home. "Do you have some water and the ginger candy with you?"

"In the rental car," you told him as you set your phone on the ground. "I was doing so well today, too."

He didn't want to say it, but he knew this meant the baby was nice and healthy. "Why don't you curl up with Carole again, Baby Girl. She told me she threw up non-stop when she was pregnant. I'm sure she can commiserate."

"Actually, I think I will," you told him when you picked up the phone once again. "I'm going to hang out with my in-laws a little longer. Have a chat about how much I adore their son. Maybe get their opinion on some baby names."

He laughed. "Don't let them talk you into Bradley Junior."

You shook your head adamantly. "I'd sooner allow you to name the nugget Bronco."

"Hell yes!" he cheered. "Bronco Bradshaw is still on the table."

You cradled your forehead in your hand, but you were smiling. "Get back to work while the nugget and I spend some time with your mom and dad."

"I love you more than life itself, Baby Girl."

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

She treats him so well. Fuck, this even made me tear up a little bit. Grandma Carole and Grampy Goose would have been the best. Next we will find out what kind of trouble awaits in Maryland. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 33

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[hotheadedhero]

In Unrequited Love - Part 3

AN: Hey, can I be sappy with y'all a moment? When I first started this story, I was admittedly pretty proud of what I came up with but I never anticipated the amount of love it would receive, so thank you everyone! <3 I also thank you for your patience, you have all been great 😋 With that said, I now bestow the conclusion to this renegade of emotion

Part 1 - Part 2

Donatello x Reader

Pathetic. That’s the one word that keeps ringing in your ears like echoes of a bug-infested cavern, the erratic scuttling serving loudly as your reminder. In no respect towards yourself, you are. All you have done since Casey escorted you back home is wallow in bed, tossing around the agonising reprieve that you are a love-strung puppy awaiting its next pat on the head. That’s why you’ve kept texting Donnie to a minimum; cut yourself off from the source and deal with the withdrawal symptoms. Doing this has you riddled with guilt but what else are you meant to do? Everybody loves somebody, right? But you don’t want to love anybody if it isn’t him. Perceivably dramatic, yes. After all, he is still a valued friend. Currently, the way you see it, it’s best to let yourself get over this puppy-dog sickness before that friendship can continue. Again, dramatic but the only logical option with April so tantalisingly strung in the picture.

Living a life of solitude hasn’t been all bad. For starters, you’ve been able to rest your ankle. Walking on it is still a fair challenge but it’s much more manageable than it was before. These past couple of days have also given you amble opportunity to reflect, as it were. It’s kind of easy to understand why one would fall for the resident bad boy in High School but a mutant turtle living in the sewers? No disrespect to Donnie, of course, but you’re just surprised. You don’t even think about all of that when you think of him. All that comes to mind is the heavenly warmth of his eyes; the soft care in them when you would help him out in the lab or when he’d be tending to one of your bumps. Euphoria’s temptress beckons you in once more in its rose-tinted glaze as you fantasise about some superfluous daydream involving him. The sweet melodies enrapture you in this cosy bubble as you curl up in bed but the sharp force of reality is swift and knocks you down before a peak is seized.

Perhaps trying to get over this infatuation isn’t quite going as planned. Groaning out into the open air, you throw a pillow into your face and continue your muffled whining. This is so unfair. Why can’t he be the one that you don’t want? You just can’t seem to escape the fact that you need him. In your state of disarray, you’ve even tried to figure out how to become the one that he thinks about. To try and curate him into being the other half of what you’ve never had. Closeness. A deeply set solitude that seemed so alien to you before you started hanging out with him. Time is slipping at this point. You swear you must be going crazy because of it. There have been a couple of nights when you swear something - someone - has been lingering outside your bedroom. Yet, when you get up to check, there’s nothing there. Part of you hopes that it’s your long-awaited love checking up on you whilst the other screams that you have indeed lost your mind. 

As it would turn out, you’re not as deluded as you might think yourself to be. Indeed, Donatello has tried many a time to meet you in person but to no avail. Many times he has attempted to knock on your window only for his courage to crawl back into the ground and, alas, he does the same by retreating to his home in the sewers. What is he meant to do? You hardly message him if at all these days. Considering the state of injuries you’d endure, he’s worried about you. He has every right to be worried about you. What more could happen to you whilst unsupervised? He doesn’t want to be overly protective but he has valid grounds for such concern. His only assurance that you’re alright is when he sees your shadow through your curtain at night but that isn’t enough. Of course, it isn’t enough. He wants to care for you and cater to your every need and undying whim. 

If only words could do him justice in articulating how he feels about you but he has never been so eloquently spoken unless it’s with regards to the sciences. He’s yours but you’re not his. He just wants you to be with him. If he had to - if he could - he would take the light out of the stars to help you see that. Anything for you to understand just how much he loves you. These spats of poetry are easy enough to site to himself but he knows he would tumble the moment he does as much as even consider reciting such lullabies to you.

Donnie leans over his desk, head in his hands, and sighs heavily for the umpteenth time this day, ever thankful that the streets have been quieter than usual. It’s not as though he can focus on much of anything. All surfaces of his brain have been overtaken and overruled by the thought of you. At this point, he doesn’t even care if nothing happens between the two of you. More so than anything, he just wants you back in the lair. It doesn’t matter if you’ll never be more than friends, he misses his lab partner. It isn’t as though he’s been particularly subtle in his grovelling, either. Figuring out that he had a crush on April was a no-brainer but this has been much more obvious and much more detrimental. His brothers can’t seem to get him out of this funk as much as they may try. Day in and day out, it’s the same thing: Donatello sulking in his lab, staring off into space and pretending to look busy on one of his gadgets. Desperate times call for desperate measures and if he needs a smack up the head, there’s only one person for the job. 

“Come on, Donnie, when are you gonna stop beating yourself up over this?” Raph asks, palming at the desk and resting his body weight against it. 

“Oh, yes, because I stand so much of a chance with (Y/n),” his brother remarks sarcastically. 

The shorter of the two shifts his attention elsewhere, lips turning to the side shamefully. He never wants to feel bad about poking fun or laying out the hard truths of their shared situation being mutants. The bitter contempt within his brother's voice is fair given the fits of teasing in concordance with the cold facts that mutants and humans can’t be. In hindsight, he and his brothers could have treated the situation with more care. Still, as brash as he can be, Raph hates to see a family member suffering as such. Whilst his methods aren’t all conventional, sometimes it’s necessary. 

Raphael huffs and rolls his eyes. “You know what you need?”

“For you to go away?”

“No,” he responds quickly, stifling the annoyance beneath bated breath, “what you need is to get your head out of this storm cloud. Sitting around and moping all day isn’t gonna change anything. So what if you don’t stand a chance? You won’t know until you try.”

“Thank you, Raphael, your input is valuable as always,” Donnie scorns rudely once more and exhales heavily. “I think I just want to be left alone.”

As heartbreaking as it is, such a wish can be respected, especially by the turtle that frequents isolated periods when he’s in a bad mood. Raph takes his leave and reconvenes with Casey for their night of watch duty. They sit atop an apartment roof, scathing the barren area for trouble that never seems to come. It doesn’t take more than a few minutes before the main matter at hand becomes the point of conversation. 

“He just needs to take action,” Raph claims as he smacks a fist down into his palm. “I know we haven’t exactly been supportive but it’s eating him up. The sooner he gets it over with, the sooner he can be done with the whole thing.”

Casey’s cheeks puff up into his hands and he frowns, only for a wry grin to quickly take his lips. “Or, he just needs the expert to give him a helping hand.”

“Oh? You’ve changed your tune.”

“Hey, as long as he isn’t trying it on with Red, I’m all good.” Jones shrugs and pulls out his phone. “Now, watch a pro at work.”

Just a few blocks down from our duo lies your rotting form within the confines of your bedroom. It feels as though the space has somehow gotten smaller these last few days. You’ve chosen to spread eagle on the floor seeing as the bed has suddenly become uncomfortable, too. Rolling onto your side, you grab your phone and flick through your music, every song you pass turning out to either be a love song or something somber. Thanks, fate. Turning out to be a great ally here. You scroll a little longer in search of a distraction when a notification takes your attention. 

Hockey Junkie: Hows the ankle treatin ya, everyone in the lair misses u

It hasn’t been uncommon for any of the gang to message you but Casey being somewhat sentimental isn’t inherently natural. You suppose it was only a matter of time. You have been quiet for a short while now. If this has been good for anything, at least you know your friends care about you. It’s only fair that you halt your pitiful oath of silence. 

Nerd’s Assistant: I can walk on it fine but I might give it another day or two just to be sure Hockey Junkie: Playing safe, gotcha Hockey Junkie: Forget that crap tho, get your butt down here, the guys think ur dead

You huff a laugh to yourself and rest your weary head against your folded arm as you roll onto your stomach. In truth, you could have returned to the lair a couple of days ago but that sinking sensation sullies your stomach any time you contemplate the idea. All the more reason to stick to this seclusion. Without knowing what to say, you put your phone down and sigh into the carpet. The sweet melodies from your speaker are almost all-encompassing until your phone dings again. Then, again and for a third time before you decide to take a look.

Hockey Junkie: Look lemme be real with you Hockey Junkie: Gap tooth aint doing so hot right now Hockey Junkie: Can you at least give him a visit? Do it for your favorite classmate yeh?

The last cocky comment goes amiss with the main picture here. What’s wrong with Donnie and what has it got to do with you? All you can think on the matter is that he misses having someone to vent about April to. No, that isn’t fair to him. There’s more to him than just being madly infatuated with her. He’s a beautiful person of vision, albeit a little on the awkward side but that just makes him all the more adorable. Seeing as you haven’t replied to a lot of his texts, he must be bloated with a bad conscience. That must be what Casey is getting at. It takes some effort but you convince yourself that Donatello indeed misses his friendly assistant and that it’s high time you make a move. There goes your vow of distancing yourself. Goodbye, vegetative bed rotting.

Walking to the lair after so much time would be alien was the route not learned via muscle memory. There’s still an unsettling energy that becomes all the more poignant with every step you take but you’re putting that down to your nerves. You should probably text first; let him know that you’re coming but you’ve already made it to the large doors of his laboratory. As your fingers trace over the smooth metal, you think about the day that started this all - the day that would mark a start to something so unexpected that it almost doesn’t seem real. This is real. The alarming beat in your chest is all too loud for it to be a dream. It’s now or never. Taking a deep breath, you knock and pull one of the doors to the side, revealing the beaten-down turtle surrounded by unfinished projects and forgotten inventions alike.  

He slumps further and throws a hand up loosely. “I know you’re trying to help but I already said-” He stops speaking when he turns around and sees it’s you. 

You wave awkwardly with a just as clumsy smile to greet him. He springs up to his feet and bounds towards you, going in for a hug, only to stop himself just a few steps in front of you. That’s too much too soon. Your arrival is just so unexpected but by no means is it unwelcome. Many questions. There’s a lot he wants to ask and much more that he wants to say, like how much he’s missed you, how concerned he’s been, or please, never do that again. 

Instead, he says the only thing he can rationally think to, “How is the, uh, ankle doing?”

“Much better. Some positions still hurt but…” You do a little spin on the spot to demonstrate how much you’ve healed, laughing shortly. “... I can walk now at least.”

Donnie laughs as well, glad for that much. “So, no more injuries I need to worry about?” he asks playfully with raised brows. 

“Nah~” you resound melodically, winking with a waggishness. “Sorry to disappoint, Doc.”

Not a disappointment at all. Knowing you’re in good health, at least physically, is a huge relief. Between the shared chortling and the all-together prospect of dismantling the initial awkwardness, it’s great to have you back. It’s good to be back and you’re inwardly scolding yourself for depriving yourself of pleasant company. An aching heart can make you do stupid things and you’re about to realise just how stupid going quiet was. Donatello rubs the back of his head and seems to look everywhere but at you. 

“So how come you never messaged?” he asks slowly. “I got worried.”

There’s the guilt you had expected but you didn’t realise it would be so gut-wrenching. He’s trying to mitigate how hurt he was but it’s clear as day on his face. You contemplate reaching for him as extra consolation, finger flickering towards his. Instead, hold onto your forearm and tilt your head shamefully.

“I’m sorry. I never wanted to worry anyone, especially not you. Just needed some time to myself, I think. You know, reflect on stuff.” Ah, he thinks to himself, Casey stuff no doubt. You blow off a cackle and shrug. “Without sounding like a complete pessimist, I think it’ll be easier to accept that no one could ever fall for me.”

You play it off as a joke - for the most part, that’s how you meant it - but he isn’t having that for a second. His hands jolt for your shoulders unexpectedly. Nothing follows and your wide eyes blink furiously with the abrupt action. 

“Donnie?”

Still, nothing. Gaze turned downwards, he just holds your shoulders, as though he’s thinking long and hard about something. He is. He’s thinking so very hard about this. Even the risk of making a fool of himself can’t scare him out of doing it now. There’s only so long he can carefully tread on this ice before it eventually breaks beneath him and swallows him whole. One might argue that’s not as bad as flat-out rejection but he doesn’t care anymore. It’s time to put those words to the test. 

He breathes deeply to collect himself, to avoid falling into a blubbering mess, and closes his eyes before getting straight to the point. “I know I could never stand any chance with you, as much as I like to pretend that I do, but I’d like it to be known at least. Even if you could never feel the same way, just know that you are loved - that you’re worth loving - and that… I’m in love with you. Don’t ever say stuff like that because it’s not true.”

All you can do is stare. Had he kept his eyes open, he would have witnessed your face shift into every conceivable expression whilst you tried to unpack what had just been said. You don’t know whether to laugh or cry. Both could be an option were you not so stunned to the point of near incapacitation. The lack of response is jarring yet still, he can’t bring himself to look at you. 

“Oh my God,” you suddenly wheeze under a whisper, afraid that if you speak any louder, you’ll surely burst into tears. “Are you for real?” Confused, he goes to answer but you continue. “Donnie,” you breathe more weakly, “I have been hopelessly in love with you for weeks and now I’m hearing that you feel the same? In all this time where I’ve been in my own head. I just thought that- with April-” You cut yourself off and step back, jerking your shoulders away from his clutch. “No. There’s no way. This isn’t funny, Donnie. Just stop.”

There’s a brief period of chronostasis - a beautiful phenomenon in which time stills and he has the space to reflect on what has just sputtered from your mouth. He almost can’t believe it and, it seems, you can’t believe his own words either. He wants to jump with joy, spring with glee, and throw it in his brothers’ faces for ever doubting such circumstances. The overconfidence can wait. At this moment, it’s just the two of you with this air of reconciliation, though dampened by doubt. Your doubt. 

He holds a hand out to you only for it to clasp into a soft fist. It would be easy to act on the defensive but that wouldn’t amount to anything. If it’s evidence you seek, so he shall provide. He walks over to his desk and retrieves a small box - the same box that you had snooped on the other week, the one containing the quaint, little bracelet that is surely meant for April. That’s what you assumed, which is why your heart clenches tightly. He carefully takes it out of its packaging and fawns over it in a moment of vulnerability. You’re awaiting words of inclination towards the redhead but he remains silent. A green thumb skips over the turtle charm and Donatello outstretches his other hand to you. Wearily, you oblige and bestow yours to him. He cups the back of your hand and turns it over so that he may place the delicate-looking jewellery in your palm, making sure the charm is turned up on its backside. You frown at his peculiar behaviour, only to realise that something is inscribed on the turtle’s underbelly: your initials. 

When it all comes to light, your head turns up to meet him again. He’s glanced away shyly but there’s an awkward smile on his lips. One would think that this shared admittance is something to be celebrated with a fantastical display but it feels much too surreal. You have this horrible vision of waking up in your room, finding this to be another one of your crazed dreams. When he finally meets your stare, those fears vanish. Wild imagination or not, you could never replicate that warm glow of those maroon eyes. Even thoughts of being embarrassed about the tears in your own couldn’t ruin this moment. You fawn over the little bracelet again and shimmy it onto your wrist. The exchange is silent but there’s an ambient comfort: an unfamiliar familiarness that paves way between the two of you and closes the gap you’ve both been aching to be rid of. Neither of you is well-equipped with your words, so this alteration best suits the moment. Everything that has come to be may have been born from unrequited feelings for your friends but the birth place doesn’t matter. Value is held in each other’s happiness and simply loving one another unconditionally.

You lean up, lifting yourself on your good foot mostly, and kiss him on the cheek. His inelegant grin drops and you’re sure the tassels of his mask would have flickered up if they obtained sentient life. A primrose hue blossoms his face - one that you become well-acquainted with when he cups your cheeks and presses his lips to your forehead. With you both soaring ever higher, he pulls you into a long-awaited embrace, holding you close as your bodies transcend orbit and go off into the stars. 

Man, he sure does love being a turtle.

[lovelyjj]

Hi! Hope you’re doing good! If you’re still doing OBX requests, I’d love to know your take of the scene in season 2 where Kiara almost drowned in the sewers and if that happened to reader instead, and had JJ all freaked out and panicked and protective!! Please and thank you 🙏🩷

Sewer

jj maybank x reader

wc: 1.0k

a/n: sorry if this sucks.

“No. No way. Not happening. You’re not going in there.”

“JJ… who else is gonna do it? We have to get the gun somehow,” you countered.

“I don’t want you going in there y/n, I mean it.” JJ crossed his arms.

“What’s the worse that can happen? I get a little dirty?”

“Just promise me you’ll be careful,” JJ pleaded slowly giving into letting you do this.

“I will I promise thank you!”

“She’ll be fine,” Pope chimed in.

“Yeah I’ll be fine,” you gave JJ a reassuring smile.

JJ gave Pope an uneasy look but then nodded his head towards you.

With JJ’s reluctant approval your made your way to crawl into the sewer. It was muddy and wet and full of trash.

You crawled your way through the tunnel trying to hold back your gag. It was dark and dirty but you volunteered to do it so you couldn’t really complain.

JJ was worried, he started biting his nails. He didn’t know what he would do if something happened to you.

“I don’t see anything yet,” you called out.

“It’s probably at the bottom of the catch basin,” Pope shouted.

“Ugh,” you cringed as your shook the muddy water off your hands.

“Gun gun looking for a gun,” you murmured to yourself.

“Guys, I think I found something,” you voiced.

“You guys, there’s something dead in here!” you shouted.

Your screamed and then yelled, “Oh my god! There’s something dead. I repeat…”.

“… there is something dead in here!”

Meanwhile Rafe and Barry were up top by the drain. Rafe bent down and listened to the drain.

“Well, they’re in the sewer,” Rafe commented.

“Flush them out,” Rafe continued.

Barry scoffs, “you flush that pipe, you gonna kill the rat.”

“Yeah.”

“The last thing you need is more dead bodies showing up around this bitch,” Barry warned.

“You realize what you’re doing if you do that?” Barry hissed.

“I mean if you wanna be a pussy, you can leave,” Rafe argued.

“Do you not realize what you are doing, bruh?” Barry looked Rafe in the eyes.

“Get the hell out of the way,” Rafe ordered.

“All right, then. All right, then, tough guy,” Barry backed down.

“You don’t wanna be here for this, go find the truck, okay?” Rafe instructed.

Rafe started turning the wheel that let the water out.

Pope spoke to JJ asking, “Do you hear that?”

“What?” JJ responded.

“Listen.” Pope put out.

You were down in the drain when you herd the sloshing of water.

“Oh shit!”

“Guys? Guys the water!” you yelled.

“Shit! Oh my god! Y/N get out of there now,” JJ shouted.

“I don’t have time! JJ!” you screamed.

“This can’t be happening. Why did I let her go in there?” JJ talked in a panic.

JJ chest was tight and his heart was racing. He was so worried about you he didn’t know what to do with himself. He was panicking.

The water was coming in fast and you were screaming for help.

A flood of water came out from the gated hole where JJ and Pope were standing.

“Maybe there’s a manhole!” JJ shouted.

“Y/N!” Both JJ and Pope called out.

“Go go go go go!”

They started running to the manhole, screaming your name. It took everything in JJ not to faint. Allowing you to drown would be extremely traumatic. He couldn’t, he wouldn’t. He had to save you, there was no other option. A world without his girl is a world he wouldn’t want to live in.

You started climbing the ladder desperately trying to stay above the water. Eventually you reached the top and you stuck your fingers through the slits of the manhole.

“JJ! JJ! Pope! Help! Please i’m over here!” you shouted.

JJ and Pope ran as fast as they could. They finally reached the manhole and were breathing heavy.

“Pull! Pull it!” you said with urgency.

JJ and Pope both grunted as they pulled up on the manhole.

“Hurry! Hurry!”

JJ and Pope continued to pull it.

“JJ! JJ! Please! Please!”

“We are gonna get you out of there I promise baby,” JJ spoke.

The water was rising fast and it soon came up past the drain. JJ and Pope were pulling with all their strength. You were starting to think you were gonna drown. But then by some miracle the drain lid lifted up and fell down in front of the hole, as you emerged into the fresh air.

You collapsed on your hands and knees coughing up a storm.

“I for sure thought I was a goner for a second there,” you coughed.

“You made it baby,” JJ praised.

“ Y/N, You good?” Pope and JJ both questioned at the same time.

“Yeah I’m fine,” you cleared your throat.

“This wasn’t what we needed was it?,” you held up the gun from being stuck in your waistband.

“Holy shit you did it!” JJ cheered.

“Oh my god! Way to go,” Pope exclaimed.

JJ was so proud of you. His heart was so happy that you made it out safely.

The three of you embraced in a group hug and went to take the gun to Shoupe.

————

When the day turned into the evening, you were at heyward’s seafood using the outside shower. JJ was sitting on the bench waiting for you to come out.

You were showering away all the sewage. You felt grateful to be getting clean. You sighed finishing up your shower. You outstretched your hand for a towel which JJ gladly gave you.

The air was crisp and chilly and you felt the wind on your wet hair. You dried off and got changed. When you emerged from the shower stall JJ was smiling at you.

The two of you decided to sit on a nearby table.

“Ya know you really scared the shit out of me today,” JJ started.

“Yeah i know i’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault baby,” JJ soothed.

You gave JJ one of your signature smiles and his heart just about stopped. You enjoyed these moments with JJ. Where it was just the two of you and you enjoyed being together.

JJ was your person and without him you’d be lost. You think maybe if it weren’t for JJ you wouldn’t of got out of the drain. So you were eternally grateful.

“Thank you for saving me J,” you whispered.

“ah it was nothing. I’d do anything for you, you know that right?”

“Yeah i do,” you smiled.