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doctorbitchcrxft · 3 days ago

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Criss Angel Is a Douchebag | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore

Word Count: 3440

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“I just need an honest-to-goodness case,” you said, sighing. You flopped back down onto the bed you shared with Dean. “Somehow, every time we think we’ve found one, there’s, like, some other-worldly moral that can be learned from it. Just give me a ghost. I’m beggin’ the world for a ghost.”

Dean chuckled from his seat at the table and turned your laptop around to face you. “How ‘bout this one?” he asked.

You sat up and leaned forward to read the screen. “Mind Freak?” Dean chuckled. “Maybe so.”

“I’m in,” you shrugged and began tugging on your boots. “Where’s Sam?”

“Sulking somewhere, probably,” your partner replied.

****

The three of you set off for Sioux City where a new kind of entertainer was taking over: sluttier versions of Criss Angel, quite possibly. Jeb Dexter was one of them, and he performed a mock-demon-exorcism in front of an audience and a camera crew.

“I can't believe people actually fall for that crap,” Dean snorted as you walked away from Jeb.

“It's not all crap,” Sam replied.

Dean rolled his eyes. “What part of that was not a steaming pile of bullshit?”

“Okay, that was crap,” the younger brother admitted, “but that's not all magicians. It takes skill.”

“Oh, right, right, I forgot. You were actually into this stuff, weren't you?” Dean taunted. “I mean, you had, you had, like a deck of cards and a wand.”

“Dude, I was thirteen. It was a phase.”

“Aw, Sam,” you cooed. “That’s adorable.”

“Shut up,” he mumbled jokingly, clearly embarrassed.

“Just… it bugs me,” Dean continued. “Y’know, playing at demons and— and magic, when the real thing will kill you bloody.”

“Like a guy who drops dead of ten stab wounds with no holes in his shirt?” you chimed in, referring to the case you were here to work. It seemed like it’d be a simple witch hunt.

Dean nodded. “That's what I'm talking about.”

****

You spoke to the assistant of the young magician you’d died, and he revealed he’d found a tarot card depicting the ten of swords in his boss’s stuff while he was packing. You had the assistant give you the tarot card before you were on your way.

You turned it over in your hand; it was a standard Rider Waite card. You’d dabbled with the cards in as a teen while trying to escape your parents' extremist religion, and that would undoubtedly prove useful to you in this situation. “I mean, obviously,” you began as you walked up to the place where Jeb and his crew were filming: a magician’s convention. “The guy on the card got stabbed through the back. But there’s meanings to each of these cards. The swords traditionally represent trouble and problem solving. The ten of swords indicates a disaster of some sort, which…” you trailed off.

Sam snorted. “You in some coven we don’t know about?”

You shook your head. “I saw The Craft one-too-many times.”

Dean walked over to two older men sitting near the film crew. The assistant had indicated Vernon Haskell and a man named Charlie as potential enemies. It made sense; they were older, more traditional magicians, and surely, they didn’t enjoy these kids encroaching on their territory.

“You Vernon Haskell?” Dean asked, crouching behind the man.

“Who’s asking?” the man replied, turning around.

“Federal agent. Ulrich,” your partner said. “Looking into the death of Patrick Vance.”

You watched on as Jeb interviewed another older magician and got his name completely wrong.

“What a douche,” you commented quietly.

“Couldn't agree more,” Vernon said.

You smiled lopsidedly, turning to him and pulling the ten of swords out. “You use cards in your act, right?”

Vernon scoffed. “My act? That was a long time ago. I haven't touched a deck in years, y’know.” He held up his shaking hands, indicating a neurodegenerative disease.

“You know anybody who uses ‘em now?” you questioned.

“Well, there was a guy down on Bleeker Street.”

The other older man chimed in. “Oh, yeah. He— he peddles that kind of specialty stuff.”

Dean questioned, “Did he have a problem with Vance?”

Vernon nodded. “Matter of fact, Vance crossed him about a year ago. Probably cost him fifty grand in royalties.” He directed you toward where to find the young man whose name was apparently Chief.

You and Dean walked down a darkened street lined with neon signs to the address Vernon had given you.

“Wait, wait, wait,” you said. “Dean, I think this is the red-light district.”

“So what? Sex workers can be witches, too,” he shrugged.

“No, no, I know,” you argued. “But I think our magician friends are trying to get us pegged.”

Dean snorted. “Look, let’s just go check it out, okay?”

“Oh-kay.” You sighed and followed behind him into the building.

****

Around thirty minutes later, the two of you walked out again, and you were laughing hysterically. “I told you!” You wiped tears from your eyes and clutched your stomach. “ ‘You ain’t been had till you been had by the Chief’,” you mimicked the deep voice of the sex worker you’d run into.

“Fine, fine, you were right,” Dean grumbled. “Let’s— Let’s just go find Sam and never talk about this again, huh?”

“Don’t lie, you liked it.” You slapped his ass, smirking mischievously.

He wheeled around, giving you a challenging glare. While you continued to laugh, he slung an arm around your shoulders and pressed a kiss to the side of your head. “Shut up, asshole.”

****

You approached Vernon and Charlie with Sam and Dean hot on your heels.

“The Chief, huh?” You quirked a brow and crossed your arms.

“What's the matter? Chief not your type?” the other magician named Charlie smirked.

Dean smirked back. “Y’know, I could have you both arrested for obstruction of justice.”

“How?” Vernon scoffed. “You’re no Fed.”

“We con people for a living, son. Takes more than a fake badge to get past us,”Charlie explained.

Sam and Dean laughed a little awkwardly. You took the opportunity to step in. “You got us,” you said. “I’m, uh, looking for a gig as a showgirl. Thought by coming to the convention, I could get somebody interested in my… talents.” You looked down at your somewhat exposed breasts, knowing the role of the magician’s assistant in these circles was bordering on sex work.

Vernon considered for a moment, eyeing you up and down a bit despite his best efforts not to be a complete ass. “I’m sure you’ll find someone.”

Then, the man on stage pulled your attention away from your conversation. “Ladies and gentlemen,” the magician named Jay announced, “what you're about to witness is a feat so daring, So dangerous, even the great Houdini dared not attempt it. I give to you… The executioner!” He gave a straitjacket to an audience member to inspect. “Now, sir, as you can see, this jacket is the real article. Thank you, sir. You may take your seat. Now, I will have one minute— sixty seconds— to escape certain death. Let's see if I can do it.” The curtain fell on Jay, and you could see his silhouette as he tried to get out of his straitjacket with a noose wrapped around his neck.

As the clock ticked down, Dean whispered to you, “I don't think he's gonna make it.”

You kept your eyes glued to the silhouette, and when the clock struck zero, Jay appeared from behind the curtain completely unharmed.

“That was amazing!” Dean cheered, clapping. “That was fuckin’ amazing!”

You furrowed your brow, standing next to Sam as he said, “That was not humanly possible.”

****

After the show, the three of you headed back to your motel room to regroup.

“Looks like this guy Jay was a pretty big deal in the seventies,” Sam explained.

“Which, in magician land, means what, exactly?” Dean asked.

“Big enough to play Radio City Music Hall.”

“What got him stuck in their ‘Where are They Now?’ file?”

“He got old.”

You drew your lips together. “Okay, so, maybe he’s using real magic to make a comeback?” you suggested.

Sam shrugged. “It's possible. Some kind of spell that works a death transference.”

“How does the tarot card mix into it?” Dean questioned.

“You can use tarot for those kinds of spells,” you explained. “It’s heavy-duty magic. Almost like planting the tarot card is what lays the curse; the card is what carries the energy.”

Dean nodded, thinking for a moment. “Man, I hope I die before I get old. Whole thing seems brutal, don't it?”

“What, you don’t wanna hunt ghosts with me when we’re ninety?” you smirked, sitting down next to him on your bed.

He tossed an arm around you and pulled you to his side so the two of you were lounging against the headboard. “You’re great and all, but no.”

“You think we will?” Sam asked.

“What?” you and Dean replied in unison.

“Die before we get old,” Sam replied.

“Haven’t you and I already done that?” Dean laughed.

You nudged his ribs with your fist lightly. “Don’t remind me.”

“C’mon, Dean.” Sam rolled his eyes. “I mean, do you think we'll still be chasing demons when we're sixty?”

“No, I think we'll be dead for good,” he responded.

His words cast a solemn shadow over the room.

“What?” Dean said. “You wanna end up like— like Travis? Huh? Or Gordon, maybe?”

“There’s Bobby,” the younger brother suggested.

“Oh, yeah, there's a poster child for growing old gracefully,” Dean snickered.

“Maybe we'll be different, Dean.”

“What kind of Kool-Aid you drinking, man?” This conversation was clearly confusing Dean. “Sammy, it ends bloody or sad. That's just the life.”

As brutal as that was, it was true.

Sam went silent, but only for a moment. “What if we could win?”

“ ‘Win’?” Dean scoffed.

“If there was a way we could just…” the brunet paused to search for the words, “put an end to all of it.”

The older brother’s tone became serious. “Is there something going on you're not telling me?”

“No.”

“Sammy—”

“No. Look, I'm just saying— I just wish there was a way we could… go after the source. That's all. Cut the head off the snake,” he explained.

“Well, the problem with the snake is that it has a thousand heads. Evil bitches just keep piling out of the Volkswagen.” Although dejected, Sam conceded, “Yeah. Guess you’re right.”

“Why don't you go see if you can track down Jay?” Dean suggested. “We’ll see what we can dig up on this tarot card.”

Sam nodded. As soon as he was out of the room, you and Dean sat up to look at each other.

“Something’s definitely wrong, right?” Dean asked you.

You nodded. “Yeah, definitely.” You felt your stomach drop, hoping to god he wasn’t planning on using his powers again. Your fear was maybe irrational especially considering he knew what you’d been asked to do; you hoped he wasn’t that stupid.

Dean gave you a quick peck on the lips to pull you out of your thoughts. “Hey, c’mon. I’m sure he’s fine.”

Still a little zoned out, you nodded.

****

Sure enough, Jeb had been found hanging from the ceiling with the Hanged Man card in his back pocket. Your theory about the cards acting as targets for energy transference seemed to be right on the money, and Jay had been crossed by both men in the days before their deaths.

“Up against the wall!” Dean commanded, having followed Jay to his hotel room.

“God, who are you? What do you want?” he asked, clearly frustrated.

“Now!” your partner commanded again.

“We know what you did,” you told him, helping Dean pin the man to the wall.

“You been working some real bad mojo to jump-start your act,” Dean continued.

“What?” Jay scoffed. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Look, we know you put a spell on those tarot cards,” Sam said.

“Messing with real magic?” Dean added.

“ ‘Real magic’? Come on, there's no such thing as real magic,” Jay replied, struggling under you.

“Oh, is that so?”

“Yeah, believe me. I've been around this stuff my whole life. It's all just— It's— It's illusions. It's tricks. It— It's all fake!”

“Jeb Dexter strung up,” Dean argued, “was that just an illusion?”

“What? Something happened to Jeb?” Jay seemed genuinely surprised.

“He was found hanged in his room,” Sam replied, voice considerably less harsh. “Right after you slipped the noose last night.”

“I don't know what you're talking about. Please, just let me go.” “Something's not right,” you said.

“Usually they're whipping some badass hoodoo at us by now,” Dean affirmed.

The three of you tied Jay to a chair to keep him still so you could deliberate your next move. By the time you turned back around, though, Jay was gone.

“We shoulda seen that coming,” you sighed.

“Come on,” the brunet urged. “He couldn't have gotten that far.”

You followed him out of the room, but there was no one in the hallway. The three of you headed down to the lobby to get more of a look around.

Then, you saw the police at the door.

“Oh, fuck, guys.” You nodded at the men looking around the lobby.

“That's them!” Jay called as he appeared next to the police. “Those are the nut jobs that just broke into my room!”

****

Every encounter with the police was just starting to piss you off. You’d evaded them enough times to know this wasn’t going to be too much of an issue, but this was hindering your ability to do your job. Whoever was working with or for Jay now had even more of an opportunity to kill someone else.

You bounced your leg up and down while you sat on the bench in the holding cell, a few feet away from where another detainee slept. Dean paced, and Sam sat beside you. None of you spoke, each too pissed off and consumed by your own thoughts to form words.

Then, around midnight that night, the guard opened the cell. “Alright, Ulriches. You’re free to go.”

You exchanged a look with Dean, knowing something had probably happened to result in Jay dropping the charges. And thus, you met up with him in the hotel lobby.

“We have to talk,” he told you when you arrived. He brought you into the hotel’s bar where he gave you the news that Charlie had been killed during his act that night. “I was just a kid when we first met,” he lamented. “All I knew was how to cheat at cards. Charlie got me out of more scrapes than I can count. Hell, I would’ve been dead by the age of twenty if it hadn't been for him.” He sighed heavily, then took a swig of his drink. “He was more than my friend. He was my brother.”

“I'm sorry, Jay,” Sam told him.

“Look, I should have listened to you guys when you told me that my show was killing people.”

“Well, you weren't the one pulling the trigger,” Dean replied.

He put his glass down on the bar. “Yeah, but someone did, and I want to find out who did this to Charlie. So I'll do whatever you guys say. Just tell me what to do.”

“Jay, whoever's doing this,” the younger Winchester began, “they like you. They're probably close to you. Did Charlie and Vernon get along?”

Jay looked almost offended. “No. No, it’s not Vernon.”

“He's the only one that makes sense,” Dean urged.

“Charlie and Vernon were your family, Jay,” Sam added.

“And now Charlie's gone.”

“Yeah, but… they butted heads sometimes, but Vernon could never do something like this,” Jay tried.

“It doesn’t make complete sense to me, either,” you said, and all three men turned to you. “But he’s really the only option here. And real magic… it’s almost a drug. That kind of power can corrupt people in ways you may not even notice at first.”

Jay looked down at the granite in front of him. “You better be damn sure about this,” he finally said heavily. “Vernon's all I got left.”

“Well, let us go take a look around his room first,” you told the old man. “I mean, I’m assuming y’all have been on the road your whole life. Everything he owns will be in that room; including whatever mojo he’s working.”

Jay agreed and found a way to get Vernon downstairs. When he was gone, you began your search.

“Guys, it’s just a bunch of old-timey magic crap,” you noted, dropping a few red balls back in the cups they belonged to. “No herbs, no candles, and no tarot cards.”

“I'll be damned,” Dean breathed out.

At your and Sam’s questioning looks, Dean held up a poster to you. “Look like anyone we know?”

****

You and the Winchesters crept into the theater with your guns drawn. On the stage, you saw a much younger version of Charlie talking to Jay and Vernon about how he’d gained his immortality. Apparently, P.T. Barnum had given him the grimoire that taught him everything he knew about magic.

“And who else has to die so that we can live forever?” Jay argued.

“What's the price tag on immortality? This isn't right, Charlie; what you're doing. You know that. Somewhere, you know that.”

“I know I don't want to come back alone— to start all over, alone,” Charlie replied.

“Jay,” Vernon said hesitantly, “we can be young again.”

“The three of us together— Vital and alive forever.”

“Not so fast!” Dean butted in, stepping forward into the light on the stage. “I ain't Guttenberg, and this ain't Cocoon.” He nodded at Charlie. “Immortality. That's a neat trick.”

“It's not a trick. It's magic.” A noose appeared behind Dean as Charlie spoke.

“Dean, look out!” you screamed, but it was too late.

The noose dropped around Dean’s neck, lifting him in the air.

You and Sam immediately shot at Charlie, but he caught the bullet in his teeth.

“Hey, bullet catch,” Charlie chuckled, “been working on that.”

“Get him!” Dean choked.

“Let him go!” you shouted, rushing Charlie. You tackled him to the ground and slammed your fist into his face. He flipped you off him, taking out a knife and stabbing you through the stomach. Though, no pain ever came.

Instead, Charlie began to choke on his own blood, clutching his abdomen. “Jay,” Charlie panted, “you picked these strangers over me?”

Jay couldn’t answer him, and you pushed yourself upright to go check on Dean. “You okay?” you asked, supporting his head in one hand so you could see his neck and inspect it for injuries.

He grabbed the wrist holding his face. “Yeah. Yeah, I'm alright, sweetheart.”

You kissed his cheek and threw your arms around his neck while he held your waist.

****

When the dust had settled and Charlie had been taken to the morgue, you and the brothers met Jay in the hotel bar to say goodbye.

“Hey, Jay,” Dean said. “We wanted to thank you for what you did.”

“I just killed my best friend, and you want to thank me?” Jay responded, voice nearly devoid of emotion. His face held a sorrow you’d never seen in him before.

“Where's Vernon?” you asked.

Jay pursed his lips. “Oh, he's gone. He said he didn't want to speak to me again after what I did to Charlie.”

“Well, he’s a shit friend, then,” you said matter-of-factly. “Charlie was never gonna give up killing. You did the right thing.”

Jay turned to face you. “Are you sure about that? You know, Charlie was like my brother. And now he's dead... because I did ‘the right thing.’ He offered me a gift, and I just threw it back in his face. So now, I have to spend the rest of my life old and alone. What's so right about that?” He got up from the bar, leaving you and your boys in contemplative silence.

“Jay,” the bartender said, nodding to the pack of cards he’d left on the bar, “your cards.”

He took one last look at them before finally saying, “Throw them away.”

You watched as Jay left, heart bleeding for him.

“Well, I don't know about you, but I could go for a beer,” Dean said, sitting down on a barstool.

You laughed half-heartedly. “Me, too.”

“I'm gonna take a walk,” Sam told you and Dean. He was walking away before you or Dean could respond.

You looked after him as he left, anxiety gripping your chest. Something in you told you he was up to no good.

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-nesmith @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #spn #supernatural #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #spn series rewrite

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xoxomilesteller · 1 day ago

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#icanteven

fwb!reader x cj braxton | MDNI

cw: mentions of underage drinking, addiction, cheating (again..), angry/rough sex (protected), cursing

wc: 1.9k

fic & title were both inspired by #icanteven by the neighborhood!

you and cj met at alcoholics anonymous, both underage heavy drinkers. but the thing about addicts, is that usually, when they give up one addiction, they fall into another.

for you and cj, it happens to be sex.

you both decided it should be best to not start a relationship, well really, you suggested it and cj was a bit.. hurt, he wanted something serious, but you didn’t. you know how you are, you don’t like commitment and weren’t willing to test if you’re ready for a relationship on cj, because you didn’t want to lose him. being friends with benefits with someone is more freeing, you’re allowed to do whatever you want to do. and even when cj started talking to jen, you guys still remained friends.

you felt some jealousy towards jen, but you just felt that maybe it’s because she was starting to spend more time with cj. instead of you and cj, it was jen and cj, especially at the stand.

but what cj failed to mention, was that he was actually dating jen. he didn’t know why, but he just didn’t want to tell you.

you guys had fallen into that spiral, you told cj that you wanted a drink, not that you actually had one recently and broke your sobriety.

which is why when joey told you, “cj is such a good boyfriend to jen,” your eyes nearly popped out of your sockets. you didn’t know what you felt entirely, but mainly, betrayed. and already, you’re at a party that a male friend, tyler, invited you to. where there’s drinks.

cj had invited you too, but you declined because of the drinks. you don’t even know why you said yes to tyler. you don’t know a lot of things.

you start searching around for tyler, wanting to let him know that you’re leaving.

you don’t understand why you’re overreacting, why you’re even contemplating a drink over someone you’re not even romantically involved with because you chose not to.

it’s just betrayal.

you have a graveyard shift with jen at the stand tomorrow, so maybe she’ll say something about it.

so once you find tyler, you pull him in for a make out session in front of many people.

is it immature? yes.

but is it better than drinking? absolutely.

and tyler doesn’t back away either, because he has a crush on you, which you know about.

making out has always seemed to solve your problems, besides drinking. if you felt a wave of overwhelming emotions, you’d just call cj if he wasn’t already there and stick your tongue down his throat.

but it’s not the same with tyler. his mouth tastes like alcohol, which isn’t good. he’s moving his mouth slowly against yours, instead of cj’s usual quicker and steamier style.

cj is mid walking with jen when he stops in his tracks at the sight of you kissing another man.

he’s jealous. and pissed.

“tyler,” jen smiles, “he’s a nice guy,” she tells cj.

“mhm,” is all cj can get out, the feeling of his stomach churning at the sight, “let’s go”

the graveyard shift is when the stand gets a lot of calls. you get there first, setting up your station and you see cj walk in.

“isn’t supposed to be me and jen today?” you ask

“i’m covering for her,” is all he says.

he actually asked jen if he could cover her shift because he wanted to talk to you, but just at the sight of you, his blood is boiling.

it’s quiet at the stand. really quiet. both you and cj have things to need to say to each other, but neither one of you are willing to say it out loud. thankfully, it’s only you two, because anyone else would feel extremely uncomfortable at the tension between you two.

you decided to break the silence, “you and jen are dating,” it’s not a question, but a statement

cj sips his coffee, “not my girl”

you scoff, “that’s not what joey said”

“i wasn’t the one with my tongue down someone else’s throat,” he places his cup of coffee down on the desk rather harshly.

“right,” you nod, “you have a girlfriend”

cj licks his lips, “she’s not my girlfriend, you’re not my girlfriend”

“so why are you pissed about me kissing someone else?”

he huffs, “do you think i’m overreacting?”

you widen your eyes, “yes”

he throws his head back on the chair, “you can’t even say that”

“what?” you sigh, face scrunching up in confusion

he stands up from his chair, “you told me I wasn’t like anyone else”

it is the truth.

you also stand up, crossing your arms, “i say whatever comes to mind when you’re inside of me, can you blame me?”

cj is slightly taken aback by that comment but he dryly chuckles, “you can’t ever admit when you’re wrong, can you?”

your mouth twitches, “i didn’t say either of us were right or wrong”

he groans in disbelief, “you always gotta be right, don’t you?” he takes a few steps closer to you, “but you treat me like every one else you’ve fucking met”

“what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

cj is now chest to chest with you, “that you made me think i was special, guess i’m not”

you raise your hand up, palm to his face, “you say a lot of things you don’t mean when we have sex too, don’t even start with me”

he roughly exhales, nostrils flaring, “i don’t mean them?”

“friends-“

“with benefits, right? that’s all we are? ‘cause friends with benefits get jealous when they see their girl kissing another man?”

you open your mouth to state his contradiction, but he continues, “‘cause friends with benefits tell each other how much they mean to each other in one of the most vulnerable moments a human can go through?”

“shut up,” you clench your jaw

“you cheated on me,” he says through gritted teeth, “do you even feel bad at all?”

“we’re not dating”

“It sure doesn’t feel that way”

“if that’s your argument, you cheated on me first,” you point your finger at his chest

“we’re on the same page then? we cheated on each other?”

“n-“

cj cuts you off, placing his mouth on yours and shoving you onto a desk. your legs hook around his waist, hands going under his shirt. his hands are everywhere. sliding up your back, tugging on your hair to pull you closer. you bite on his bottom lip, a broken sound erupting from his throat. he pushes you down on the desk, your head bumping a keyboard.

“ouch cj,” you hiss

he slips his hand under your sweatpants, toying with the waistband of your panties, “did i cross your mind at all?”

cj is pissed. so are you. he has no right to be mad. but this is fun, so you provoke him.

“no, you didn’t,” you lie

he slides another hand up to your throat, not putting any pressure at all, just simply holding you still, “you’re a fucked up person,” he whispers

“we met at a place for fucked up people, cj”

he nips at your neck, pulling your pants and panties down to your ankles, “guess you’re right,” he presses two fingers on your slit, “fighting with me makes you this wet?”

“you say that like you’re not hard right now”

“doesn’t make what you did okay,” he rubs tight circles on your clit, “i can’t even believe what you did to me”

you chuckle, “you act like i killed someone”

“oh no,” he smiles, but it didn’t reach his eyes, “you played with me”

“how?”

he stops rubbing your clit to pull his pants and boxers down enough to free his length, he rolls on a condom, biting his lip and lining himself up with you, “you told me we should just be friends with benefits,” he circles his tip around your entrance, “so i’m gonna ask you again, am i like everyone else?”

“you’re my friend,” you say, not wanting to give him what he wants

he shoves himself inside of you, all at once. your nails scratching the hard wood of the desk while your moan and walls flutter around him.

“you drive me insane,” he whispers in your ear,

“don’t act like you don’t like it,” you whisper back

his hands gripping onto your hips roughly, “since we started talking, i wanted you,” his fingers dig into your soft skin, “then you go and tell me some bullshit but fuck,” he moans, pressing his forehead to your shoulder, “i couldn’t say no.”

it’s taking all of cj’s willpower to not moan at every syllable, but he has to tell you this. but fuck him, it’s hard. your moans at every bruising thrust, they way you’re gripping around him perfectly, it’s all making it impossible for him to just give in.

“and then you go and play with my head, telling me i’m your person,” his hand returns to rub your clit again, “telling me i’m the only one that can make you feel this way,” he buries himself deep inside of you, stilling, “tell me it’s true,” he looks at you with pleading eyes, “tell me what you said is all true”

you don’t know if it’s true or not.

your silence speaks a lot of volume to cj.

“got it,” he nods once, his hips returning to that brutal pace, “i mean when i say this, that we’re over, ‘cause everything that i’ve ever told you, is all true”

your eyes snap open, “no”

“yes”

“no”

“did you mean it?” he places his forehead on yours. when you still don’t give him a response he asks again, a lot harsher, “did you mean it?”

to you, it’s hard to form incoherent thoughts because cj does know how to make you feel good. all you know and feel is the approaching orgasm, his tip hitting your spot, his body against yours. you don’t know why you’re so scared of accepting that you’ve formed something more than just sex with him.

each thrust shows how jealous he is, angry, and something more, like genuine care for you. this is the first time cj has ever been this rough.

“i don’t know,” you strangle out, walls clamping down on him, “you make me say stupid shit”

“so it’s stupid?” he raises his brows, fingers applying more pressure to your bundle of nerves

“i don’t know,” you moan loudly, gushing around his cock, body arching off the desk

his hips start moving sloppily, “alright,” a moan getting caught at the back of his throat. he buries himself inside of you again, shooting inside of the condom and quickly pulling out.

his lips graze yours, giving you a chance to kiss him as a way to prove to him that you do know something at least.

but you don’t.

“oh fine then,” he stands up straight, discarding the condom, “don’t kiss me or talk to me, see how much i care,” he readjusts his pants, so he’s fully decent again and walks back to his chair

you stare at him.

he’s never not taken care of you afterwards.

he usually cleans you up and you both stay in each other’s arms.

you pull your panties and sweatpants back up, “cj, you’re overreacting-“

he scoffs, “i’m done, this is over between us”

AN: FIRST CJ FIC OMG

banner by: @elleisdesigning

tags: @redhairedgardenfairy

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aurora-starlight-silly · 1 day ago

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Soo since you guys would actually like if it if I stream, which is suprising- I mean I didn't excpect that -w-, I'm trying to figure out how to :p

I found a cool vidéo that shows how to stream, even one from the same person with how to be a PNGtuber but there's a few issues:

-I want to make my own overlays and idk how to- I mean I know how to draw them but idk how to put them on da stream ?

(I mean I could ask eri but idk if she'd use the same app-)

-I've seen a/some streamer just pull things on the stream like that how do they do that ?? (Well maybe I should actually try the app and begin before asking so many questions)

-I don't have a pc in my room and I don't want all my family hearing me speaking english, but they said they have a pc left I could use, idk where to put it in my room trough- I mean I could use my desk but that mean I can never use my desk for something else then ? And I need to see if the pc works well also for mods, cuz it's a pretty old pc TwT

I have an idea for streaming art even if I have a portable tablet trough, so that's one problem solved (if it works) :p

So yeah just know I'm trying, but I hope I'll be able to, but if I struggle I'll maybe try the first streams without a good overlay and just take a random one I guess IwI''

Also I might just do a sketch for the PNGtuber but then draw a real one on stream >:]

Anyways just, you'll have to wait, sry ^^''

#aurora yaps #just a little announcement

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erikiara80 · 3 days ago

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Robin says that if she and Steve just combined, all their problems would be solved (behind them, the poster of The Last Dragon)

Maybe the answer to what combining means is in S3: moving at the same time

They're also the ones who talk about Back to the future and what Marty has to do (well, Alex P. Keaton. Same face, different character, interesting): he has to go back to the future, because he is in the past. So the future is actually the present, which is his time

#stranger things #steve harrington #robin buckley #and in both scenes they're twinning

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wearyweasel · 6 months ago

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How the fuck is PHP a serious language? "Yeah I'm going to make a scripting language with no experience as a fun personal project. It's going to have zero consistency and half the features feel incomplete. It'll be used on 75% of websites in 2024."

I'm casting arrays as objects and then using variables to access the object properties. A serious language would never allow this to happen.

#PHP #software development #things that make you go “this will never pass code review”#but this actually solves a problem so maybe?

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iamfuckingsorry · 4 months ago

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So I've recently realized that murderbot's been translated into my native language and it's apparently a he in the translation (which admittedly makes sense, because it's a heavily gendered language and 1. gender-neutral language doesn't really exist in general and 2. "bot" and all the related words - I believe they use "droid" for mb in the translation - are grammatically masculine).

It made me curious how it's been handled in other translations though!

*e.g. being referred to by multiple gendered nouns/pronouns depending on the context, like both "bot" (masculine) and "machine" (feminine).

#Tmbd #Murderbot #Murderbot diaries #the murderbot diaries #I'd also love to hear about ART too. I've heard some languages have different solutions for mb and ART (maybe because ART is 'ship/vessel"?#And about your languages if you're willing to share #Also I'm not gonna like this makes me feel kinda ugh.#Because mb Not wanting to be a part of the stupid made up human gender system is important to me okay #But also. It's genuinely a difficult problem to solve language-wise in some languages #Like using a pronoun like “it” is technically possible (even though it's very dehumanising to actual humans) but it also #Doesn't work grammatically in connection to nouns which are all inherently gendered #Also all the adjectives and verbs are gendered too #Like every time mb says “I said” or “I did X” those verbs will need to be grammatically gendered #so the translator's hand is kinda forced. They have to make a decision in order to translate the text #Anyway #Mostly just curious i guess #Herr's personal tag

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nagareboshiko · 22 hours ago

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Problematic. She couldn't say she was exactly a problematic person or one who dwelled herself in actions that would put her in some kind of uncomfortable positions. Or, well, on an ordinary amount of times that was acceptable.

On the other hand, regarding Ajax, she had brought that problem into her life herself.

A problem she couldn't solve, one that deep down maybe she didn't even bother to. After all, wasn't she said problem in the first place? She got... Addicted to his presence. At first she wondered if it was just loneliness to have her keep him around her, simple curiosity for his person, to see how long he would actually resist to follow her if sex was, after all, what he was after. But he did stay, and she let him. He was unique in the way he presented himself, catching that clumsiness that broke that mask of charm he pulled off so often, so naturally. He was hard to not like. That was the problem, indeed. Or she was just easily pleased. Probably both, but could anyone blame her?

Or maybe she was just out of her mind. She wouldn't be surprised if this addiction of hers had sent her sanity to hell.

It might have not been a miracle to cause their encounter, however with his hand running close to her neck and his fingers moving inside her just like that, she might just give in to the idea that whatever they had wasn't explicable in simple terms.

Not when he made her feel like she could just let go of any ounce of control around him, fall on her knees for him if he wasn't holding her against his body.

Her head spun, or perhaps it was just his fingers moving the universe along with them with each stroke, with each breath moving mountains and oceans against her ear. His erection wasn't unnoticed either, even more arousing to know that he was already that hard again, just by touching her. He was barely deep enough though, and yet so painfully close to had the stars burn bright again in her body, see her before her eyes when they'd explode in all their beauty.

He opened his mouth, she rolled her eyes in response (and her hips, to meet another thrust of his fingers).

Ohhh, so that was the kind of game he wanted to play now.

"Do you need it written down, Ajax?" His name rolled out of her lips in a pant, not missing to press her lower back further against his wet cock. As if her thighs jerking for more friction, more movement were not enough of a sign of what she wanted huh.

Two could play that game. She had a pen in her bag somewhere, though.

She felt the head of his cock rubbing against the crack of her bosom, a turn of her hips and she felt it rub against her pleasantly, leaving its juices sticking to her skin as she rolled again, and again, working her own pleasure up, leaving him hanging. If he felt that bold to ask such a question, then surely he could take this too, or use his imagination to understand what she really wanted if he was that much of a smartass.

Words are the tools of men who lack the strength to hold a sword. Who told him that? Had he read it in a book? He couldn't recall. But he always felt an aversion to it. Ajax believed in the power of words as much as the power of a weapon. It just depends on who wields it. Now, he had never been good with words, not in the grand scheme of things. Give him a soliloquy, give him a monologue, or a poem and he'd learn to recite it with the same dedication he had to combat and sport. But that was just it. He could regurgitate what he was taught with dedication and precision; to lose was to grow, to win was a mark of his strength. Yet, stringing his own words together, weaving a flower crown for royalty from syllables and playful double meanings was not his forte. He lacked the gift of creation, he was a conduit for those who could.

Simply put, he learnt quick.

He had learnt in such brief time how her sinews gave way her thoughts and feelings and how she was truthful to her wants- when she realised she wanted them. They were the same in that regard.

He felt her weight against him, the hand on her ribs moved up to her warm breasts, gently massaging them and rubbing his palm over her nipple until it hardened under his touch. He moved further up, to her chest, to her neck. Ajax held her closer to him, the pressure more in his palm just under the point between where her clavicles met than in his gentle fingers that instead found the feeling of her pulse.

Then she slid her hand over his. He eagerly cooperated, letting her guide him, letting her use his fingers to fill herself. Fuck that drove him insane. The sensation of her wet made him swallow thickly, the way he slid into her hole, the words from her lips he just about caught. The height difference was a slight detriment to their position, but he cherished it nonetheless; straining his wrist to get barely two knuckles deep, as far as he could go, before gently pulling out and pushing back in again. With no latex between them, he could feel each bump of her insides. God he wanted to learn her body like a blind man learns braille. Blue eyes washed over her body as best they could, seeing through the blond of her hair, mostly the mounds of her milky breasts and pink nipples, their hands disappearing beyond that.

He was hard. He felt her pulse under his finger tips. He pushed in to her. Pulled out. Exhaled a shakey breath at the quick idea of hearing her say his name as he came inside her.

"Do you want me?" He asked, low, breathy and needy. His fingers continued to work, faster that before, still only two knuckles deep, knowing he could go deeper but the position stopping them. "Do you want me inside you again, Lumine?" He loved the taste of her name in his mouth. Gods know he'd mutter it like a prayer when he'd touch himself, thinking about this moment.

#usfw #her: uh sure I can write it down for you?#･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─ verse; college au #･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─ tosxah; down a knife of dawn #･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─ tosxah; the sea swallowed the falling stars

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