#on one hand i should probably just wait until i do | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lamentationsofalonelypotato · 10 hours ago

Text

@zepskies

Ooo Yay! I can't wait to see what you thought about this UNHINGED fic 😂

On one hand, perfect makeout music. On the other hand, Dean is SOOOO freakin' jealous, but it's so frustrating that pushing down his own feelings for her has resulted in him being such a dick to her, before and during this moment. 😫😫

Oh yes, definitely setting the mood for the reader and Ben in the back seat lol. We all know that Dean has probably pulled the same thing in the past 😆 Dean is VERY jealous and it's only pushing the reader away from him more, but he can't stop it. He's stuck in a vicious cycle that is turning into one of Dante's circles of hell when Ben showed up LOL.

*snorts* I love both of these analogies. 🤣

Thank you! I was like... what else has a roadtrip in it? 😂

Deaaaaaan you complete and utter idiot!! What's even worse is that she did feel that spark with him when they first met, until he opened his big dumb mouth lmao.

He really has pushed down his feelings, a few people have pointed out to me that Dean is acting like the playground bully who likes a girl but can't express it in a healthy way and that is one million percent what's happening here lol. The reader did like him when they first met, but again he just didn't express his feelings in a healthy way and now he has to sit and watch Ben and the reader make out in the back seat of his car 😂

Lol sounds like the Winchester Way to me. 🫠

Absolutely 👏🏻 The reader is basically the male version of Dean tbh. Except she shoved down her feelings and then went to sleep with someone who looked exactly like Dean 🤣 Because that was also healthy right? lol

My heart was so torn throughout this entire fic, you have no idea!! The way she manages to pacify him loll. So sweet and sexy in a way, but also, you get the sense that she thinks Ben might just see her as a pretty face, even if he does care about her deep down? It makes you wonder where her heart is truly going to lie at the end of all this angsty love-triangle goodness.

Mine was too! I literally kept going back and forth from Ben to Dean, trying to figure out who she should be with. Because she has incredible chemistry with Ben and she understands him in a way that I think he's not used to. And on the other hand Dean understands her because she's a hunter, he's just being a stubborn idiot 🤣

AND you're right! The reader thinks that Ben only sees her as a pretty face at the moment. She doesn't understand that he has started to develop feelings for her. But I think that the reader also believes that Ben has the possibility to become more than just someone she sleeps with. That he could love her if she let him and if she loved him.

Oh my God this part was completely unhinged and it was hilarious! But the way Ben decides to "get rid of her" is unfortunately on-brand, not caring enough about the collateral damage, the risk of the reader getting hurt. 💔 Even though he does check on her afterwards, the way Dean protected her has my heart swinging back to him and melting in a whole different way!! 😫 Gah! This is so conflicting! loll don't do this to me, friend. 😂😂 I need to dive right into Part 3 so I get to see what happens between her, Ben, and Dean, and just who will confess their feelings first...

Yes see, I went to see Wicked with my friends the weekend before I wrote this and you have no idea how much I love the OC Iris that I made for this fic. I was also thinking "how many references to How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days can I put in one fic?" lol. I was sad that I had to kill her- but it had to be done. There needed to be a dramatic moment where Dean chose to save the reader and give the reader a little bit of doubt about Ben and also show the way he is (unfortunately). But Ben coming to check on the reader literally put me on the fence all over again because he was being soft for her 😭

I'm so sorry to do that to you my friend!! But admit it, you love the angst lmao 💞😉

Thank you so much for all your comments my lovely friend! I always love to hear what you think! And I can't wait to read what you think of Part 3! 💗

Part 2: It Is A Big Deal

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Dean Winchester xf!reader,

POV: Reader POV

Summary: Dean's in for a rude awakening when he finds out exactly what you did when you got stranded in another universe.

Tropes: Frenemies (Dean and the Reader), Awkward Situation, Multiverse Problems, ANGST

Word Count: 7.4K

Warnings: I'm gonna label this 18+ just to be sure. Cursing, Making Out, DEATH, Violence (only a little), Jealousy, Pining, Kinda Sad Vibes In Some Places, Sexual Innuendo, References to Sex, Feelings, Angst, Self Deprecating Thoughts? References to Past Sex (it happens quite a bit). References to Future Sex. Soldier Boy Being Soldier Boy (Everyone knows he’s a warning). Dean Winchester Being Dean Winchester (aka. being moody and super hot).

Listen While You Read: Jealous Again By The Black Crowes

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is no use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person

A/N: It was so fun to come back to this universe again! Thank you so much to everyone for all the love and support that you've gave me in writing the first part and thank you for all the encouragement to write a part 2! And also please don't forget to check out Stranded by @justagirlinafandomworld that inspired me to write this fic!💗

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

"Can the two of you stop playing find my tonsils and tell me where the hell it is I'm supposed to be driving to?" Dean grouses from the driver's seat while Sam leans over a road map squinting to look at the small print.

"Ready For Love" is playing over the speakers, barely audible over the thud of fat raindrops pummeling the windshield, blocking out the world around you, and sending the shadows racing across your skin where Ben and you are sitting in the backseat.

“Well, if you’d given me a few hours to fuck her at the motel instead of throwing a bitch fit-" Ben begins to say, turning his gaze your face to stare at the back of Dean's head with a lazy smile.

“Dean why do you care?" You interrupt Ben with red cheeks. "I know for a fact worse things have happened in the backseat of your car than Ben and me making out."

"Really? Because I can’t think of anything worse that you and him sucking on each other's tongues and helping the spread of mono." Dean's hands tighten on the steering wheel and his shoulders tense.

He’s more wound up than a tinker toy.

It has been exactly thirty three minutes since Dean's mental breakdown back at the motel when Ben showed up. Furthermore, despite how much Dean had screamed at you at the motel, it appeared that he was still going to act like a two year old who wanted a cookie before dinner.

Sam's suggestion for the four of you to figure out why Ben was here had been a welcome distraction from Dean's spiral. It had prompted all of you to pile into Baby to try and find where it was that Ben landed in your universe and find a clue as to why.

But so far the trip had been less like riding in the Mystery Machine and more like riding with the Griswold's on their road trip to Wally World…

Dean had been supportive of trying to find a solution to what he deemed the "Ben problem," but it appeared that Dean was going to spend every waking minute getting on your nerves.

Honestly, what's new?

You didn’t understand why Dean was so damn argumentative whenever you showed up, it was like he lived to make your life as difficult as possible.

It had always been that way. Since the first day you met Sam and him at Ellen's bar forever ago, Dean had never once said something nice about you or to you.

He always found some little thing to nit pick, whether it be your aim, your research skills, or your technique when hunting and you were sick of it. Each time the two of you worked together, it was Sam's job to make sure it didn't end in bloodshed. Even Cas noticed Dean's underlying hostility towards you and when he asked Dean what was wrong, Dean had brushed him off with a "not now Cas."

Worse was the time that you got hurt (only a minor injury) on a hunt a few weeks ago when you got thrown into a glass cabinet while facing down a poltergeist. Dean had chewed you out for a good twenty minutes and even with Sam's ability to intervene, you'd broken Dean's nose for speaking to you like that, and then rushed off to your room in the bunker before he had a chance to see you cry.

It was the one thing that you never allowed yourself to do in front of Dean Winchester, cry. He didn't deserve your tears, especially not when he was being a total grade A asshole.

When Sam came in later to help you get patched up, you asked him why Dean hated you and Sam tried to convince you otherwise, but you knew the truth.

Dean Winchester hated you, and you had no idea why. So you decided to stop trying to make him like you, because if he was going to act like a total dick he didn't deserve you being nice to him.

You knew that was why you liked Ben more. Ben appreciated you (sort of), he wasn't mean, he listened to you (sometimes), and he did give you compliments… well, they all revolved around the way you looked and that was nice, but just you wanted someone to give you a compliment that had to do with something else. Or maybe just a simple "I see you."

Is that so hard to ask?

Your few flings in the past hadn't been anything special. You didn't have the kind of stable lifestyle that prompted or supported long serious relationships, especially with non-hunters. Not to mention you'd always had this fantasy about meeting another hunter who understood exactly what you went through and what you had gone through over the years. It was often difficult to find a non-hunter who could understand that.

The bunker was the first permanent address that you'd ever had. Your mother had been one of the best hunters in the US, known by all, and you never met your dad, which meant that growing up on the road was the only life you knew. She'd died a year before you started working with the Winchesters which meant that you didn't exactly have anyone that you cared about or anyone who cared about you.

The thought often brought the feeling of loneliness stirring in your chest, but you pushed it down, throwing everything you had into hunting.

Healthy right?

Ben's muscular arm is wrapped around your waist, his hand splayed over your lower back to keep you tight against his chest so there is no space between the two of you, while your hands locked at the back of his neck. You didn't usually like PDA that much, occasionally yes, but you'll admit that you were only allowing yourself to give in to Ben a little more, because you liked how much it annoyed Dean.

Yes, you thought that it was absolutely ridiculous how Dean was acting, but you wanted to give him a taste of his own medicine. Because in all the years you'd known him, you’d never found one thing to hold over his head or one thing that really irritated him, and Ben was working like a charm.

It also felt really good to kiss him, but that was beside the point.

You understood that Dean was having a psychotic break with his constant proclamations that Ben "was him," but you wanted to at least understand why Dean was still hung up on it.

Ben isn't Dean. Sure they have the same face, but Ben is different… isn't he?

When you'd encountered Ben for the first time you had done a double take, but the more you were around him, the more you appreciated the way he treated you differently from Dean. Yes he was a little sexist, but Ben made you feel wanted and Dean had a way of making you feel stupid and often like a burden, as if you'd been plopped on his doorstep like a box of kittens and he was stuck with you.

There was only so much that you could take.

You didn't know what you'd done to earn such hostility. Dean was far from sexist, and you'd seen him interact with other people, it was just you he treated differently and it made you want to strangle him.

"Calm down kid-" Ben sighs.

"Stop calling me that!" Dean turns around to glare at the man next to you.

"Keep your eyes on the road." Sam says, not looking up from the map. He didn't need to.

"What a wonderful suggestion Sammy, but see I can't because I have no idea where the hell it is I'm going!" Dean snipes at his brother.

I swear at this point if Gabriel pops out of nowhere and tells me that this is all just a fucked up dream, I'd believe it.

"Stop being damn hormonal kid, and keep driving." Ben rolls his eyes and moves his lips to your throat, nipping and biting along the flesh visible over the top of your jacket, making you gasp softly and lean into Ben's warm embrace.

Your eyes meet Dean's in the rear view mirror and just for a second you see something flash through them that isn't anger, but it's gone just as soon as you clock it.

What was that?

Dean slams on the brakes and Ben tightens his grip on your body so you don't go flying forward into the bucket seat.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" You snap, curiosity gone, as you glare at Dean.

The tension in the car is high, popping and crackling around the four of you like popcorn. You still couldn't understand why Dean had such a problem with Ben. If anything you'd think that they'd get along a little bit.

"I am not being hormonal or whatever other chauvinistic shit that is about to come out of your mouth." Dean snarls, ignoring you, as he turns and narrows his eyes at Ben. "And I am not your chauffeur. So tell me where the hell it is I'm going so you can get the fuck out of my car and out of my life!"

Ben opens his mouth to retort something, no doubt that'll trigger Dean, but you speak before he can.

"Ben, do you remember anything about where you came through?" You ask him. You were trying to be more diplomatic even though Dean was making your blood boil.

Just because Dean is mad at me does not mean that he gets to take it out on Ben. Ben hasn't done anything wrong. He got sucked into this reality and immediately got pulled into Dean's soap opera.

Ben huffs out a sigh as he turns back to look at you. His gaze softens a little as his eyes meet yours, turning from a dark green to a jade. "There was a building-"

"Oh wow, how helpful!" Dean snarks. "Did you hear that Sammy? There was a building! Mystery solved!"

Ben whips his head in Dean's direction, the air in the car growing hot as Ben's skin begins to heat, but you gently lay your hand on his cheek to bring his gaze back on you. "Dean is an asshole. We all know." You say to Ben, reassuring him and ignoring the look Dean gives you when you say it. "Do you remember anything about the building?"

Getting Ben angry wasn't the way to get information out of him, he was, after all, more like Dean than you were willing to admit. And just as you'd seen Dean get worked over by numerous women, including Bella, sweet talking worked the best.

Well, it never worked when you tried to do it, because Dean refused to treat you any way other than an annoyance.

But two could play that game, especially with the way that Dean was acting right now.

Ben's jaw tightens and you know that he's biting back some remark to throw Dean's way, but you pull him closer, trailing your hand over his bearded cheek to keep his attention and gently bring your lips to his. You feel the tension shift from Ben's shoulders beneath the palms of your hands as he relaxes into the kiss, and this time Ben smiles when you pull away, giving your hips an encouraging squeeze. "It was a school or some shit. And there was a billboard for "World's Biggest Beer Can.""

"Okay. We can work with that." Sam says giving you a sympathetic look before pulling out his phone to type something in.

At least Sam is being normal about this whole thing.

Sam and you always got along, from the start he was the older brother that you never had, and it was refreshing. Not to mention Sam was your best and probably only friend. The hunter life was lonely and you found it difficult to make friends anyway, but something about Sam always stuck. He got your abnormal sense of humor, he gave the best hugs, and he stood up for you when things got heated between Dean and you. It was his idea for you to move into the bunker with him and Dean, and also him that convinced Dean to let you move in.

It had taken days for Dean to finally say yes. And when he did, he made you move into the bedroom next to his as if he wanted to keep an eye on you because he didn't trust you.

And as much as you hated living with Dean, living with Sam made up for it. You liked helping him research while Dean bitched and moaned about reading through dusty volumes, liked helping him clean up while Dean followed behind you as if you couldn't be trusted, liked helping Sam try to make dinner that ended up more burned than anything else until Dean stepped in and shooed the both of you from the kitchen so he could make something, and liked kicking back on the couch watching movies with Sam while eating copious amounts of popcorn.

Unfortunately, Dean didn't get the hint that you wanted him to leave you alone so he'd follow Sam and you, crack open a beer, and proceed to give a personal commentary on the movie the two of you were watching, occasionally throwing a look in your direction as if he was checking that you were listening to him. Weirder still was the fact that Dean would do that when Sam wasn't with you.

You noticed that sometimes, that no matter where you were in the bunker, Dean just happened to find himself in the same room. But that didn't mean he would speak, sometimes he would just be cleaning one of his guns or quietly reading through a dusty volume or writing something down in a notebook, but you swore sometimes you thought that Dean was looking at you. Each time you looked up though, he was looking down at whatever else it was he was doing.

It was those moments that made you think that things could be civil between the two of you, and then he'd get on your case for doing something he deemed "wrong" when you knew you did it right the first time as if you hadn't been a hunter as long as he had.

He probably does that because he doesn't trust me.

Dean grumbles something under his breath and turns his gaze back out the windshield, watching the wiper blades go back and forth over the glass, crossing his arms over his chest. Ben frowns and you know that he must have been able to hear whatever it was Dean said.

Why can't we all just get along for five minutes? Is that too much to ask?

"Alright I've got something." Sam says ending the uncomfortable silence in the car. "The World's Biggest Beer Can is in Northwood about ten miles ahead of us."

"Finally. At least someone is pulling their weight." Dean states before he hits the gas, the force throws you backwards into the seat.

Your gaze flicks up to the rearview mirror and notice that Dean is watching you again, but you turn away to Ben who smiles wide and pulls you back towards him for a kiss.

But deep down you can't help but wonder if Dean had been watching the two of you in his rearview mirror the whole time and why he cared so much.

The building that Ben remembers is in fact, an abandoned school.

The roof sags inward allowing rainwater to pool in the front lobby over black and white checkered tiles, the lockers are rusted and thrown to the floor at odd angles making you worry about the possibility of tetanus, and there is an ungodly stench that you can only describe as old gym socks, axe body spray, and unwashed feet.

Ben's nose wrinkles where he stands beside you, and you're sure that no matter what your sense of smell is experiencing it's a million times worse for him.

You press your lips into a tight line, toeing around a puddle of something gray and sticky that you can't identify, but know for a fact you don't want it in your shoes. Your eyes squint into the looming darkness that grows the more you stare down the forgotten hallways.

It’s always gotta be an old creepy building. Just once I want to get to investigate a donut shop or a burger joint or a Starbucks.

"Any of this looking familiar Captain Sexual Harassment?" Dean asks turning with his flashlight to point in Ben's face.

Ben shrugs and squints at the offending light. "I don’t fucking know."

"Enlightening." Dean huffs out a breath. "Well, guess we can split up and-"

Thank God I won't have to listen to Dean mutter things under his breath and freak out.

"Fine." You interrupt. "Come on Ben." You start to walk down one of the dark hallways, but Dean slides in front of you to block your path.

"No way. You're not going with him." Dean waves his flashlight in Ben's face again and you can see the twitch on the corner of Dean's mouth to see how much he enjoys blinding him.

Why does he always have to act like such a child?

"Why?" You demand.

"Because as soon as Sam and I get out the picture, Grandpa over there is going to pull you aside and fuck you in one of the classrooms." Dean says it without blinking, but it makes you flush red in embarrassment and anger.

"No, he's not!"

"Yes, he is!"

Dean is so close that you can feel his warm breath on your face. His eyes are narrowed in anger, but you can see another emotion flick through them so quickly you think you imagined it. It was the same emotion that you thought you saw in the car, but you can't identify it, not yet.

Ben's hand comes down on Dean's shoulder, a wide smirk on his face. "Look kid, I get it. She's fucking hot and I know you think I'm trying to horn in on your action-"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Dean exclaims shaking off Ben's hand.

"You're jealous because she decided to be with a real man instead of you." Ben shrugs. His gaze travels up and down Dean as if appraising him before he shakes his head with a chuckle. "I can't blame her. Someone like you couldn't handle her.

"I could handle her just fine!" Dean snaps back his face flushing as he forces his chest against Ben's, who only smirks back.

What did he just say?

Your entire body goes stick straight in surprise and you turn your head to stare at Dean. In all the years that you'd known Dean he's never once said something like that to you.

Sure there was the night you met…

You hadn't thought about it in years. You'd been back in town because Bobby had called asking you to help out some friends of his on a case and you'd stopped in to Ellen's bar to see Jo. Dean had come on to you and you'd splashed a beer in his face and also maybe pinned him down against the bar. It had been awkward the next day when you found out that Dean and Sam were the friends that Bobby wanted you to help out, but you pushed past all the weird feelings to help.

Dean had flirted with you that night and you will admit to yourself that you thought Dean was attractive before he opened his mouth, but since that night the two of you hadn't spoken about it. In fact, you were both perfectly happy pretending that it didn't happen.

Or so you thought.

Dean's dark green eyes flick to yours in realization. "That's not what I meant."

"Sure kid." Ben's smirk grows to Cheshire Cat proportions.

"Stop calling me that!"

The weird thing was, you'd seen Dean lose his temper, it always flared fast and hot broken up with sarcastic comments, but for some reason this felt different and you didn't understand why. It didn't feel like Dean just getting angry because Ben was getting under his skin, it felt like something else.

"Whoa!" You get between the two of them for the second time in an hour. "If you guys keep fighting like this I'm going to put you both in time out!"

"He started it!" Dean glares at Ben, who doesn't look the least bit upset.

"I don’t care who started it! You're grown men and you're still acting like toddlers. I shouldn't have to separate you." You snap waving around your flashlight at Dean.

"How about this?" Sam sighs from where he stands a few feet away. "I'll go with Ben and the two of you can try not to shoot each other."

"Why can't I go with you?" You sigh to your friend.

"You want to leave them together? Alone?" Sam raises his eyebrow.

Not really.

Sam takes your silence rightfully as confirmation, because the both of you knew if you left Dean and Ben together it would probably be a Thunderdome situation or a reenactment of the WWE.

"Maybe we shouldn't split up." Dean says looking at his brother.

"You scared kid?" Ben smirks. " No wonder she decided to fuck me instead of you. You’re acting like a little bitch."

"You son of a bitch-" Dean finally snaps and launches himself towards Ben, but your hand fists in the back of Dean's leather jacket to stop him from starting a fight that you know he won't win.

It wasn't that you thought Ben was a better fighter than Dean, it was that Ben had super strength and would have no qualms ripping Dean in half. And despite how much Dean annoyed you, you didn't want him to die. Sure he was a jerk, but he didn't deserve that after everything he'd been through, and Sam didn't need to bear witness to that.

"Fine." You say. "Ben please go with Sam."

Ben rolls his eyes and follows after Sam, leaving Dean and you standing in the lobby alone, the only sound the soft plop of water echoing down the empty hallway.

Great. Now I'm stuck with Dean in a creepy old building. It's a dream come true. The stuff of Disney movies.

"Why did you do that?" Dean snaps at you when Ben and Sam turn a corner out of sight.

"You should be thanking me! Ben would rip you in half without batting an eye!" You turn back towards the empty hallway and try to put as much distance as you can between Dean and you.

Distance is good, nice. It means that I can only partly hear his disapproval.

"You don't know that." Dean catches up with you, sweeping the path in front of you with his flashlight looking for holes in the floor.

"Yes, I do. I've seen him do it before."

By now you were aware that there was a chill in the air, it was unnatural, creeping down the hallway in a thin mist that made a shiver crawl down your spine. Dean must sense it too, because he pulls his gun at the same time you do.

That or he's doing it because he's about to go Rambo on Ben's ass.

Because that'll end well…

"If he rips people in half why do you like him so much?"

“He’s not a bad person if that’s what you’re getting at. Ben did it to save me.” You point your flashlight into one of the classrooms along the hallway noting the rotted desks tipped over onto the checkered floor. “He wouldn’t hurt me.”

Ben's world was filled with more than a few crazed individuals, and when you'd been in his universe Ben had stepped in when a supe threw themselves at you. Truthfully, even though Ben did what he did to protect you, watching him pull someone apart with his bare hands made you sick to your stomach. Given what you'd seen, that was saying something. But you knew that Ben wouldn't hurt you, he wasn't that kind of man, and you weren't afraid of him.

“You’ve known him for five days! How can you tell after five days?!” Dean nudges a cardboard box with his boot sending a family of cockroaches scuttling into the shadows.

"Because I can!" Your lip curves up in distaste at the appearance of the roaches and try not to imagine all the walls infested with the little bugs.

You didn't like roaches. Especially ones that all of a sudden developed the ability to fly in your presence as if it were a miracle.

The two of you continue to walk down the hallway, the sound of your footsteps masking the constant dripping noise that comes from the floor above.

Your temper was flaring all over again. You didn't think that you needed to explain any of this to him. Dean never felt the need to discuss his extensive history with women with you and you didn't feel the need to discuss the ins and outs of your and Ben's situation.

"Come on-" He begins to say, but you don't want to hear it.

"Dammit Dean just fucking drop it." You throw your shoulder against a door at the end of the hallway, putting everything you have into it and a little more. You were getting frustrated at Dean's continuous commentary on your life. "I don’t want to talk about this anymore or listen to any of the ridiculous reasons why you think that it's any of your business who I sleep with."

“I think it is my business because you were about to reenact the scene from Titanic in the back of my car!”

“Oh please. I’m sure that you’ve reenacted it billions of times back there. Mr. Saturday Night!” You roll your eyes hitting the door again with your shoulder.

“It’s my car!" Dean shouts, moving you out of the way in a surprisingly gentle way, before he savagely kicks down the door. "I can do whatever I damn well please!”

I wonder if Sam and Ben are having a better time than us. It wouldn't be difficult to.

The door opens with a snap under the force of Dean's kick depositing Dean and you into a large auditorium. The seats are a faded gray and the curtains that hang from the sides of the stage, once blood red, were more of a muddled pink stained with splotches of dark spots and filled with holes the size of the Impala.

Crawling vines and ferns have begun to tangle over the empty seats and over the floors, absorbing anything in their path. The wooden stage is dilapidated and caving in on itself, the boards jutting upwards instead of laying flat as they should in some places from years of water damage. The carpet beneath your feet is squishy and moth eaten, and each step sends another cloud of dust into the air making the room hazy and you cough into your elbow.

"Not to mention he's me!" Dean continues, tramping into the room behind you.

"How many times are you going to say that?" You pinch the bridge of your nose, trying your best to keep it together.

"As many times as I have to, to get the point into your thick skull!"

You whirl around and poke your finger into his chest. "You know what Winchester? You can take all your opinions and shove them right up your uptight ass!"

"The two of you don't get along at all. Odd given how you seem to get along with my fiancé." A bored voice says from somewhere behind you. "But it is a lot more entertaining than I thought it was going to be."

Dean and you both lock eyes and turn to look in the direction of the voice, but there's no one there.

"Um, did you hear-" Dean begins to ask.

"Yes I did." You reply clicking the safety off your pistol.

"Just checking."

"Though I will say, with the way today is going for you and if this is you having a psychotic break, I wouldn't be surprised that you're having auditory hallucinations."

"Shut up." Dean sighs.

"Hello?" You shout, looking around the empty auditorium for some answer, but it remains empty.

Dean snorts. "Now who's craz-"

"Hello?" The voice mocks in a nasally voice. "Wow you're pathetic. I don't understand what he sees in you."

"You call me pathetic, but you're the one hiding. So why don't you come out?" A chair from the front row plucks itself off the ground and hurls itself at your head. You duck and it sails into the aisle behind Dean and you.

"You're not even that pretty." The voice continues and you can imagine a pout on the end of its words like a petulant child who wishes to get their way.

This is so fucking weird.

"Thanks." You reply dryly. "I like to think I've got a great personality."

"You don't." Dean mutters, making you throw an elbow into his side.

A high pitched giggle echoes through the space making it impossible to identify where it came from, until finally a woman materializes on the stage. You blink your eyes to make sure that she's really there.

Her blonde hair falls over her shoulders in perfect ringlets, and she's wearing a bright pink fur trimmed dressing gown. The kind you'd see on an eccentric billionaire's trophy wife who spent most of her day drinking gin martinis poolside while being fanned by cabana boys or the kind that she'd be wearing when she heard of her husband's "untimely demise." There's a silver diamond crown perched on top of her head and she's smoking a cigarette from a long white cigarette holder, while she lounges back on a golden throne.

What. The. Fuck.

"Do you see her too?" You whisper to Dean out of the corner of your mouth.

"You mean Glinda the Good Witch the later years? Yeah I can." Dean replies looking just as confused as you do. "You thinking Gabriel?"

"I thought he was dead."

"He's pretended to be dead before." He shrugs.

"Fair enough. Any reason why he's making us see her?"

"Maybe your new boyfriend has a fetish."

"Hasn't anyone told you that it's rude to whisper?" The woman says, taking a drag from her cigarette.

"Sorry. Um. Who are you?" You ask.

"I don't speak to homewreckers." Her face contorts into a sneer. You watch her eyes shift from Dean to you. "But I'll answer for your friend. I'm Iris, Benjamin's Fiancé."

If pigs could fly right now an entire fleet of them would be taking flight around you. You tried to wrack your brain remembering a single time that Ben said that he had a fiancé or was in a relationship at all, and you can't find a single moment.

Well… today officially sucks.

"Wow. Nice." Dean looks at you with a scoff. "Real nice."

"Hey woah, I didn't know he had a fiancé." You hold up your free hand in surrender. "He never said anything about a-"

"Hey gorgeous. Did you find anything?" Ben says materializing behind Dean.

"You're engaged?" You shout.

"No?" Ben looks confused. "Who told you that?"

You point a thumb over your shoulder to Iris, who is still lounging on the stage completely in her element. She giggles and wiggles her fingers in a cute wave.

"Hey Benny Wenny, did you miss me?" Her lips curl up in a wide smile when she rises from the throne, her bright blue eyes crinkling around the edges. The air around her seems to sparkle, sending scattered light out into the broken seats.

Ben is still staring up at the woman, looking utterly confused.

"You know that freak?" Dean whispers to Ben who is now standing shoulder to shoulder with him.

"Fuck no."

"Well, congratulations Benny Wenny." Dean snorts. "Guess you're getting married."

"I am not-"

"And don't worry, of course I'll be your best man." Dean continues, holding back laughter.

"Shut the fuck up kid!" Ben snaps at Dean, before turning back to the woman on the stage. "Look baby, I don't know who you are but-" Ben begins to say to the woman, who only laughs.

She throws back her head, golden curls bouncing with the force of her body moving, laughing for an unnatural amount of time before she locks her blue eyes on Ben again.

“Stop being silly. We met a few months ago at Legend’s party. We had a few drinks and then you came back to my apartment where we made love for hours-“ Her cheeks blush. “It was sooooo romantic. What I always dreamed about!”

“Um-“

“My parents are so excited to meet you and my little sister said that she’s so happy to have a big brother!” She giggles. “I even made us matching t-shirts to wear on our honeymoon and a scrap book of our children!" She holds up a magenta colored bedazzled photo album that’s the size of a medium sized dog.

Wow she put a lot of work into that.

“Children?” Ben stutters, his voice cracking on the end a little bit. It's the first time that you've ever seen him look afraid.

“What they’ll look like, where we’ll vacation each year, where we'll live, where you'll work-” Her expression turns sour, eyes flashing a dark pink as she glares in your direction. “But then you met that little whore who took you away from me and poisoned your mind.” She points a perfectly manicured pink nail at you. “So I decided to bring you here so you could help me kill her.”

“I’m sorry rewind-“ You say holding up a hand. “You brought Ben here? How?"

"I found a website while I was looking at destination weddings." She shrugs.

"There are websites about traveling through different universes that show up in the search engine-" Dean begins to say.

"DON'T QUESTION ME!" The girl shrieks and the entire room begins to shake.

"And you wanted Ben to be here because?" You haven’t lowered your gun. Frankly you had no idea what her powers were. She looked more like she would start tap dancing down the yellow brick road rather than start hurling chunks of the stage at you, but you needed a plan.

“Because we’ll get to share this moment together.” Iris sighs looking over at Ben again, who is just as shell-shocked as he was a moment ago.

“Killing me?”

Iris nods enthusiastically. “We'll make love on top of your dead body and no one will come between us ever again!”

Dean snorts under his breath and you elbow him again, trying not to think of the image.

Please let this be Gabriel messing around with me. Because if it's not my life is officially a joke.

The three of you stand there for a minute looking up at where she prances on the stage in mixed stages of disbelief.

And just as Iris takes a step forward, a sandbag falls on her head. She crumples to the floor like a sack of potatoes as Sam appears in the wings of the stage looking from her to where the three of you are watching.

"You guys okay?" He calls.

"Yeah." Ben shrugs. "Too bad about her though. She was hot."

He's kidding right?

"The crazies always are." Dean adds with a sigh, patting him on the back.

"I'm so happy the two of you are having this bonding moment, truly I am, but-" You begin to say, turning your back to the stage, but as soon as you do Sam goes flying across the room and into one of the fern plants.

"That was so uncool!" Iris squeals, hovering over the stage, her hands glowing an unnatural magenta color. "Ben and I are meant to be together, we're soulmates, perfect, fated, destined, and no one is going to stand in my way."

The entire room begins to tremble with the force of her anger, dust floats down from the ceiling as it begins to crack and crumble under her powers. You can feel the warmth of Ben's skin as he begins to power up the beam in his chest, burning through the air like a supernova.

There's a crackling sound that comes from above and you look up to see a giant piece of the ceiling falling in slow motion towards your body. Dean shouts your name, but he sounds far away, the sound ringing through the few seconds that you still have left before it crushes you.

But the hit doesn't come from above, it comes from the side.

Dean tackles you, just as the piano sized piece hits the ground where you had been standing a second ago, to the ground, cradling your head in his hands. Your bodies tumble into the moth eaten carpets as Ben explodes, the heat and power of the beam causing more of the room to fall around the two of you.

There's a terrible high pitched wail that's cut off abruptly mid scream and you don't need to be a genius to know what or rather who it was.

Dean covers your body with his and your hands come up under his arms to hold him tighter to you. You bury your face into the warmth of his coat where his throat and his shoulder meet with a whimper as everything around the two of you shudders and shakes. He doesn't pull away, his muscles tensing as he tightens his grip around you, his own face buried in your hair.

The room continues to shake and fall apart in the aftermath of the blast, dust and ash rising in clouds. But you can’t see any of it, Dean's body is shielding you from the room as it crumbles around the two of you, tucking you further beneath him the longer it goes on, making it impossible for anyone or anything to hurt you.

You could feel something curling in the pit of your stomach the longer you laid there under him, an odd feeling that you'd tried to push down whenever you were around Dean, a warmth that begins to spread like wildfire through your body everywhere the two of you are touching. His body is warm and heavy, but it's not oppressive, it lays over you protective and unyielding in the wake of the destruction.

The smell of him invades your senses, a mix of gunmetal, leather, and a spicy scent that tickled your nose. You'd smelled Dean's shampoo before, when it wafted out of the bathroom as you walked down the hallway, imprinting itself in your mind. It was how the impala smelled, always like Dean, and with it brought a feeling of comfort that you'd never known before.

It was odd.

"Are you okay?" Dean whispers, and you can feel the rumble of his words through his chest where it's touching you, his hips laying in the cradle of your thighs. He pulls back to look at your face, the rough grate of his stubble catching your chin as he does so. His eyes are wide with worry and it's the first time that you'd ever seen him look at you that way.

Dust and ash caught in his hair in graying clumps, sticking to the shortened brownish gold strands, the ones that were just a little shorter than Ben's. You longed to run your fingers through, to feel if it was as soft as it looked.

"I think so." You murmur, not used to the weight of his body on top of yours, but you're also trying not to notice how a part of you liked it. "Are you okay?" Your fingertips trail against the smooth leather of his jacket, working up to the back of his head, feeling just the subtle brush of the hair at the nape of his neck.

You don't miss the soft sigh that rushes out of Dean's chest when you do that, fueling the fire that was spreading in the pit of your stomach.

What is happening?

"Yeah." Dean's fingers brush your hair from your face, so quickly that you think you missed it, but the burn of his skin over your cheeks is the only reminder. You gasp softly with the movement, confused as to why Dean was acting this way, why he was worried about you, and why you liked it. Your arms are still wrapped around his body, fingers curled into the back of his leather jacket, but Dean makes no move to get up, he continues to look at you.

You'd never seen Dean look at you like that, look at you as if he wished to understand you, as if he saw you. No one had ever looked at you that way in your entire life.

"Dean!" You hear Sam yell from somewhere, followed by your own name.

It jolts Dean out of wherever his mind is and he gets off of you, but he helps you to your feet, one of his warm calloused hands taking yours to pull you up before dropping it as if he didn't do it in the first place.

The room is destroyed. The roof has completely caved in allowing the rain to soak through the remaining seats of the auditorium and into the musty carpets. The stage no longer exists, all that remains is a black blob of what you're sure used to be Iris, and although a part of you feels bad about the turn of events, you can't help but feel a little relieved.

She was going to kill me. You think to avoid the wave of guilt that washes over you.

"Ding dong the witch is dead." Dean mutters under his breath, but it doesn't make you feel better.

Fires burn over the edges of the stage, small and controlled, but sending rivulets of smoke into the air. You knew it meant that the fire department would be here any minute and that's the last thing you wanted to explain. That and the body on the stage.

Ben stumbles to his feet a few steps away from Dean and you, pushing off a piece of roofing that must have landed on top of him. His suit is covered in dust and drywall, but he looks okay. He's got that far-away look in his eye he always does after he uses his power.

You step towards him to make sure he's okay, but Dean stands in your way.

"Are you out of your mind?" Dean snarls at Ben.

"What the fuck is your problem?" Ben snaps.

"You almost killed us! Almost killed her!" Dean gestures towards you.

"I fixed the problem." Ben rolls his eyes and glances to you, as if trying to reassure himself that you're okay. You knew that Ben might have wanted to only have a physical relationship with you, but you knew that he did care about you in his own way. "You okay sweetheart?" He pushes past Dean, gently touching your face, tilting it up to his. "Did you hit your head?"

"No. I'm okay." You smile tightly at him, but a part of you can still feel the ghost of Dean's fingertips trailing against your cheeks to push away your hair and feel the weight of his body over yours. "Are you okay?" You ask, noting the way his eyes still are a little unfocused.

"Course I am." Ben scoffs. "Takes a little more than a building to bring me down doll."

You nod, while Ben's hand still continues to rest on your chin, and just as he leans down for a kiss, you see Dean's face in the corner of your eye and finally you're able to identify the emotion reflected in his gaze. It's the same emotion that you saw in the car when he stared at you in the rearview mirror. It's the first time that you've ever seen Dean look at you that way in all the years you'd known him.

It's hurt that flashes behind the green eyes you knew so well, shifting to jealousy on around the darkened edges the longer he looks at Ben and you.

And when Ben's lips touch yours, you feel guilt begin to creep along your skin and extinguish the sparks you'd felt moments ago in the pit of your stomach.

A/N: I'm not going to lie, I did not mean for this part to be a little sad... but oh my word 😭 BUT I also promise that the next chapter will have a happy ending ❤️

Thank you so much for reading! Likes, Reblogs, and Comments are not required, but are always appreciated. I love hearing what y'all think! If you'd like to be added to the taglist for Part 3 please let me know!

Taglist:

@roseblue373 @mrsjenniferwinchester @livya99 @zepskies

@winchesterwild78 @ladykitana90 @spnfamily-j2 @whyyouegg

@suckitands33 @pizzagirlxnsfwx @s0uz4s @schinug @just-levyy

@xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @minas-fantasies @ladysparkles78

@mochminnie @peachhiz @impala67stellawinchester @nancymcl @lunaleah

@lightdancingwords @kamisobsessed @justwhisperingfantasies

@lunaleah @kamisobsessed @kmc1989 @djudy99

@bitchykittenconnoisseur

324 notes · View notes

suzukiblu · 1 day ago

Text

Day one of February’s second weekly WIP behind the cut; “mistaken identities and interdimensional refugees”. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

Kon sighs, then dusts his hands off and eyes Croc’s unconscious body, debating how the fuck he’s supposed to handle this situation. Fuck knows where the cops are, and there’s already a bunch of civilians taking pics and shit of him, so he really doesn’t wanna wait for ‘em. Also, like, explaining why he committed aggravated assault on a giant crocodile dude to the cops does not sound like his favorite time anyway, especially Gotham cops. He technically does have an emergency comm on him, but it’s obviously not tuned into any of the local Bat-channels and he doesn’t really know if he’d be able to sync it up to ‘em.

Admittedly, Alfred is like, half a block down the street with a cell phone and probably already told his boss literally everything that just happened, but still.

Actually, speaking of Alfred . . .

Kon refocuses his hearing back towards the limo, and hears–

“Wowwwww,” Jon says from the backseat, sounding awed about . . . something–who knows what, given he’s like ten and Kon doesn’t even know the grown-ass version of him well enough to know what kind of shit the dude thinks is impressive–and Alfred makes a little “hm” sound.

“Mr. Kent, I do hope you’ve got an ear out,” he says, which even if Kon didn’t would’ve caught his attention pretty quick. “The police have an estimated time of arrival at two and a half minutes, and they were informed to come equipped for Killer Croc. Please do retreat out of the public eye for now, though I’m sure Master Bruce would appreciate the consideration if you wouldn’t mind keeping a bit of an eye on the situation until they have Mr. Jones secured. We’ll rendezvous with you on Pearl Street in seven minutes.”

There is literally no version of Bruce Wayne that has ever “appreciated” a single thing Kon has ever considered in his life, except maybe for that one weirdo in Hypertime who’d definitely just wanted a Robin that was bombproof this time, but whatever. Kon nods once, short and sharp, and then takes off with superspeed in the opposite direction from Croc and the fucked-up street, if not Super-speed. That he saves ‘til he ducks into a conveniently out-of-sight alley, shoves the security camera over the emergency exit in the back of it askew with his TTK, and then takes off straight up into the air too fast for human eyes to follow.

He should’ve avoided tearing up the street like that, probably, even if Croc and his boys had already fucked it up pretty bad. Didn’t mean he needed to go making shit worse. He’s maybe a little stressed, but he fucking knows better.

Ugh.

Kon hangs out above the heavy gray smog and cloud cover, wishing there were some sun up here instead of just moonless night, and keeps one ear focused on Croc and the other half-paying attention to the limo, just in case. The cops do in fact show up in two and a half minutes, and by then Alfred’s already taken Jon and the limo most of the way to Pearl Street. Kon can hear Jon chattering excitedly about something and Alfred at least making some more little “hm” sounds in response, though he doesn’t focus in enough to eavesdrop. Rude, for one thing, and also a distraction he should be avoiding anyway.

He waits around to make sure they get Croc locked up nice and secure in the heavy-duty restraints and armored truck they brought without him waking up and taking anyone’s head off or anything like that, and it goes surprisingly smoothly for Gotham, though the cops have a fuckin’ time of it getting Croc’s K.O.’ed ass into the back of the truck. Kon would be more concerned about the possibility of a head injury with the guy staying out for so long, but a quick X-ray glance already cleared him for at least the first-aid level basics, so like, it’s probably that weird “toxic mobility” thing Tim was talking about that time he was explaining Croc’s whole thing to him. Or–no, “tonic”, and “immobility”. Whatever, he just knows Croc usually stays out longer than a baseline human would and it’s not a concern. Just some weird side effect of his whole . . . everything, basically.

This is not in any way his circus or even his monkeys, but hey, why not be the interdimensional version of neighborly? Like, just while he’s in the reality and all. Lend the local Bats a cup of sugar, metaphorically-speaking. Batman’s gonna bitch about him doing it and how he handled it the first second he sees him, obviously–even after Alfred asked him to do it, he’ll definitely bitch–but whatever. He wasn’t gonna let anybody get hurt just because Batman gets pissy when vigilantes without any Bat-branding exist in his territory.

So yeah, he waits around.

#kon el #conner kent #superboy #superfamily #wip: mistaken identities and interdimensional refugees

95 notes · View notes

thefrontmanscockwarmer · 2 days ago

Note

HUSBAND IN HO SMUT PLEASE. SOMETHING ALONG THE LINES OF READER GETTING BRATTY AT AN IMPORTANT DINNER PARTY AND IN HO TAKES US HOME TO “TEACH A LESSON” 😩😩 (only if you are 100% comfortable with that request) I LOVE YOUR WRITING BTW U ARE A GENIUS

AWWW THANK YOUUUUUUU

Also note: this song came to mind but I couldn’t find a better one than this one, IM SORRY GUYS. I TRIED HONOR LANA BC WHY NOT

Dinner Party

Player 001 x reader [SMUT] 📸

You and In Ho stood in the mirror, looking at yourselves as you got dressed and prepared to go out. Your gold dress matched his black suit and gold tie perfectly. Your wedding rings shiny and bright.

You smiled at his as he adjusted his tie. What a fine couple you were. Clothes so expensive a name isn’t on them. A dress made by Alexander McQueen himself and shoes designed to accompany them. In Ho’s outfit was a casually tailored piece by a man you’d never heard of. Handsome and expensive, just how you liked it.

“Darling” you say absently toying with the charms on your bracelet. “What time will the car be here?”

“In a minute, we should probably go downstairs” he said as he sprayed cologne on, you followed suit with the woman’s version. He gripped your hand as you walked down the stairs of your penthouse apartment in the middle of Seoul.

Time skip:

You sat bored at the table complete with men, and some women, one of which was hitting on your husband.

“Honey, is my ring big enough?” You say drably showing the woman. “He keeps saying the ring is too small for his wife, that I need a bigger diamond” In Ho cleared his throat.

“Yes honey, I’ll buy you a new ring tomorrow”

“no i want it now” you pout.

“(Y/n), I said tomorrow. Stop acting up” he said sharply. He looked at the woman who was now too embarrassed to talk. He put his eyes on the investor across from him. Beginning to talk about funding for the next set of games. You flagged a waiter,

“I’d like more wine please” you say. Moments later he returned, filling your glass until you ordered him to stop. You stood up, your eyes flying around you. Looking at the woman as she walked to the bathroom.

“Where are you going?” He gripped your wrist. His eyes not leaving the investor as he spoke. Engaged in conversation.

“The restroom” you pull your arm away.

“Not with the glass of wine, don’t be rude.” He said. “It is impolite to carry a glass to the restroom”

“Ah no, Hwang, we don’t mind” one of the investors said, overhearing. “Besides, the drunker the better” he added with a wink. In Ho chuckled. You walked away quickly, to the restroom. You leaned haphazardly against the sink, glass of red wine in hand.

The woman exited the stall, pausing as she saw you.

“Oh excuse me” you say as you pushed past her. The wine threatening to spill over the rim of the glass.

You used the restroom and when you returned she was still there.

“Is there a reason you’re still here?” You spit venomously. “I’m surprised you’re not out there flirting with my husband”

“Don’t act so spoiled” she returned coldly.

“How can I possibly act spoiled when I am spoiled? Do you not know how it works, honey?” You laugh lightly.

“A bigger ring, pfft. Your rings already the size of Korea” she scoffed. “Your dress is shabby, poor looking”

“Yes, says the woman dressed as Hilary Clinton from the 2016 American Presidential Debate” you throw your head back. She fumed at you heatedly, her eyes fierce. “You want to see how spoiled I really am? I’ll ruin my Alexander McQueen dress and watch how my husband reacts” you spilt wine, her eyes widening as she realized what you were going to do.

You screamed loudly, she darted out of the bathroom. You waited a moment before stomping out in your soiled dress. You walked straight behind her and dumped the remainder of your glass on her head. In Ho shot straight up to face you, your soiled dress burning his eyes.

He looked down at the woman, then back at you as your make up started to smudge as you faked tears. He fumed at you. His face screwed up in anger.

“I’m gonna have to take this one home” he spoke calmly. “Teach her a lesson. I’ll be back gentlemen” he picked you up, throwing you over his shoulder and walking towards the penthouse.

“Put me down” you beat against his back.

“No.” He said sharply. “I am palm-achingly mad” a slap against your ass. “I cannot believe you. Acting that way in front of the investors, and that woman. Oh my god, (y/n), I swear you are the most bratty girl I have ever been around”

“I am a woman” you sassed.

“Not with the way you were acting” he made it to the doors of the penthouse building. Walking inside you held yourself up on his buttocks, waving to the doorman.

“Hi Tang-sho” you smiled. The doorman nodded as you got into the elevator. In Hi standing stiffly as you squirmed in his arms. “Can I get down?” You ask impatiently.

“No.” You finally reached the top floor, In Ho walked into the grand room. Setting you down in front of a mirror, “take off the dress. Get on all fours and face the mirror”

“But I-“

“Don’t want to hear it. You need to learn something and learn it now.” In Ho pulled his slacks to his ankles as you undid your dress, doing as he asked. A sharp palm came down against your ass. “You cannot behave that way”

You moaned loudly, arching your back at the delicious pain. Another slap on your ass.

“You cannot behave like that at an important dinner party” two more slaps in your ass, your cheek red, In Ho’s hand print forming.

“Yes daddy” you say as you sink down to your chest, further pushing your ass up to him. Your arousal as vividly dripping from your cunt as he slapped both of your cheeks, reddening them.

"Fuck you, (y/n)" he whispered in your ear. His anger and lust combined into one emotion, creating a whole new meaning to the word, fuck. He was mad and turned on.

"Do it then, In Ho" you whisper in his. He rammed into you. He pulled your hair as he roughly fucked you on the floor.

"Do you know, how hard I tried to keep myself together (y/n)?" He bit your neck. Your nails scratching down his biceps as he fucked you relentlessly.

"No" you moan.

"No?" He growls. "Being here, fucking you relentlessly when I should be at an important dinner isn't a clue?" He said working on leaving hickeys in your neck and chest.

You creaming as you tightened around him. Moans of pleasure getting louder as you neared your climax.

"Fuck, fuck, fuckkk. You're close aren't you?" You nodded. "Tell me when you're about to. I want to hear you say it."

Your moans turned him on so much more.

"I'm coming" you say breathing heavily.

"What?"

"Fuck, In Ho, I'm coming"

"One more time." His grunted as he gave three rough pounds in between each word.

"Fuckkk In Ho! I'm coming, I'm coming" you began to tear up. He pulled out and flipped you so you were in missionary, so he could see your pretty face.

"No you're not" he growls as he hammers your pussy. The sound of balls slapping skin, and moans and grunts fillling the room.

"I'm sorry" you cry. "Daddy please let me come."

"You're sorry?"

"Yes" you scream.

"Then show me" he says letting go of your hips.

"Fuck me like this to show me you're sorry" you grinded your hips on his cock roughly but at a staggered pace. He could see your body spending and he decided to finish you off. Just the way you liked it.

"I'm sorry I fucked up my rhythm" he says in your ear. "I just wanted to see how gorgeous you look without watching your face through a mirror" he grabs your neck and thrusts into you . Your back arched off the tile, eyes red, and tears streaming down your face. You screamed as he roughly pounded you.

"Look at you" he said sweetly. "So pretty for daddy" your faced moved as he dogged your clenching pussy hole. "Sooo fucking beautiful"

"Fuck fuck fuck (y/n). Can I bust in there?" He groans as you begin to pull him to the edge. You nodded. "Can daddy cum in that tight pussy?" He asks again.

"Yes please, In Ho, please" you cry your core burned. You began to orgasm. He pulled your head up again.

"Let's cum together" he says as he began to cum, filling you up, you were soaking his dick with your juices, squirting around his dick.

"Good girl" he says as he fucked you till the end of his climax. Thrusts getting sloppy as he pulled out. He stood up, putting his cock back in his pants and zipping himself back up, he helped you to your feet. Leading you to the bathroom to fix your make up, grabbing you a spare gold dress from the closet with a new pair of shoes to match.

“Are you ready to behave yourself?” He asked.

“Yes daddy” you smile sweetly. Letting his help you get dressed again. Your pussy ruined from his cum inside of you.

Taglist:

@christinamadsen @sebbymybaby21 @player279achlys @galaxygurlll @whamzou @watasinekoru @angelofthorr @amandalol1414 @supersonika143

118 notes · View notes

earnest-jumping · 2 days ago

Text

Helloooo so I couldn't help myself and had to write a (semi-small, 2000+ word) fic to go along with this. I hope that is ok!

Fic under the cut:

Mornings in the Wachowski household were a production.

Of course, that wasn’t to say nighttimes weren’t a production. Wrangling three super powered kids to bed was a circus all of its own.

But mornings? Mornings were their own ballgame. Shadow remembers the first one he’d been a part of. The false sense of security in waking to find Maddie the only other conscious member of the household, busy fixing coffee and eggs. Eyes taking in cups of juice that sat beside plates piled high with bacon and waffles.

“Might as well get a plate and enjoy the silence,” she’d instructed, gesturing with the spatula she was using to scramble eggs, “while you can.”

His forkful of waffle had been halfway to his mouth when the morning had started with a bang. Knuckles above them, beginning his day by jumping from his bed and doing pushups. Then Tails, loudly complaining the echidna had woken him up-

And Sonic, already a chatterbox from the minute his mind drifted back to consciousness.

But even in the middle of all the chaos, there seemed to be some balance. Tom and Maddie above it all, stern but good-natured. Theatrics that never truly went too far. The easy and almost practiced way in which syrup, salt, and jugs for refilling juice all got passed from hand to hand.

Easy.

He should be used to it by now.

So when Shadow wakes on the trundle bed pulled from beneath Sonic’s racecar bed just for him, an odd fluttery something filling him from the sounds of everyone already up and making a racket downstairs? He doesn’t like it.

He’s grateful the distance from the attic to the kitchen is enough to muffle the noise. He couldn’t imagine immediately waking to whatever was currently taking place at full volume.

I’ll just wait here a little longer, he thinks. Just until it calms down.

—

Twenty minutes go by, and it does not calm down. Shadow heaves a sigh as he pushes himself to sitting up.

The mishmash of blankets and sheets that had tangled around him are rubbing his fur the wrong way, and-

Elmo had fallen off the edge of the bed.

Hands dart out to rescue his red-furred stuffie from the floor next to the trundle. Elmo’d landed face down, a slight squish to his stitched grin. And yeah, maybe he was just stuffing and stitching. But that same fluttery feeling in him has Shadow’s emotions in a muddled mess, and he’d dropped his stuffie, his friend, his first really, truly his possession since his return to some semblance of normal life- on. the. floor.

Sorry. He thinks, smoothing a fist in circles over his chest. Sorry for dropping you. Sorry for being careless.

Elmo says nothing. Just continues looking at him with his ever-patient smile.

It’s okay. The smile says back. It wasn’t on purpose. Elmo forgives Shadow.

Another raucous laugh drags the hedgehog from his conversation, the clinking of metal on ceramics an adjoining melody to the hollow growl of his stomach. He’s hungry. Sleeping in was nice while it lasted, but he needed food.

Maybe he could snag a bit of the french toast he smells in the air, before it goes soggy. It’s this goal that gets him finally untangling from the mess of fabric he’s lost in, one hand keeping hold of Elmo the entire way down the attic ladder and to the first floor landing.

“-because when he finally, I mean finally got to the end of the doors, he found probably the best and coolest secret in the whole universe!” Tom was narrating, waving an apple in one hand for emphasis. His boys are clustered around, leaning in over their plates to hang on to every word.

“What was it? What treasure did he behold at the end of his quest?” Knuckles urged him, attention nowhere near the open door frame Shadow hovered in.

Tails’ ear twitched. “It’s got to be really cool if it was behind so many different doors.”

“Tell us!” Sonic cried, french toast-topped fork flinging little drops of syrup towards his father.

Tom’s grin took on a sharp edge while he leaned back in his chair. “Well, y’know, you’re not part of the monks, so I can’t tell you.”

“No way!”

“How could you- that story was so long!”

Knuckles threw himself back in his chair, arms crossing. “I admire the adherence to the monk’s code of honor, Father Donut. But I am blindsided by your deceit!”

Shadow watched the way Tom cackled, proud of himself for his long-winded joke. Gloved hands squeezed Elmo to his chest while he shuffled further into the kitchen.

“Oh, man- you only get to tell that joke to someone for the first time once. I can’t believe I forgot to use it until now!”

“I can’t believe you’re still stuck on a joke you heard in your sixth grade science class.” Maddie quipped from her spot leant against the countertops, hands cupping a lopsided, handmade mug painted varying shades of purple and pink.

Sonic groaned while stuffing his mouth with more french toast. The scene is so very homey, so domestic and comforting, but Shadow still can’t shake this squirming in his chest.

He moves a bit further into the room, and finally eyes find his own.

“Well, good morning, sleepyhead.” Tom chirps, moving his chair over a bit to make room for Shadow to fit in between him and Sonic.

Instead of taking it, Shadow looks down at the head of Elmo. That same smile is peeking back at him, reassuring and gentle.

Already, there are multiple hands trading serving spoons and offering helpings of whatever is on the table to be ladled onto a new plate. Tom is busying himself with pouring a new cup of juice to set at the spot made for him.

Sonic is opening his mouth to speak, hand holding a fork speared through with a new piece of french toast. Then he actually looks over to Shadow, and the ebony hedgehog watches eyes track down his face to land on the vibrant red friend in his arms.

The squirming feeling intensifies for only a moment. Shadow stands in a stalemate, unable to make himself move as he watches flickers of confusion and surprise roll like a wave over his blue counterpart’s features.

Finally, he raises one of Elmo’s paws. His fingers help it to wiggle side to side in a happy wave.

Elmo says good morning to Shadow’s friends!

The rest of the family continues on their morning routine around them. Sonic’s brows smooth out from their confused furrow, then raise in understanding.

“Good morning, Elmo.” He calls, attention drifting just long enough to place the french toast onto the plate he’s finishing making for Shadow.

That attention turns right back to the two of them, standing in the middle of the kitchen as Shadow’s squirmy feeling settles into a low fuzziness. Sonic’s tail gives a lazy wiggle behind him to match Shadow’s energetic one.

To their credit, the rest of the room only manages a small hiccup in their routine before choruses of Good Morning Elmo! and Hi Elmo follows behind Sonic.

Only then does Shadow’s feet unglue from their spot on the tile, pushed forward by another growl in his tummy and the smiles sent his and Elmo’s way. The chair he settles in is big enough to cross his legs in, so he uses the lap space to sit Elmo in, upright and facing the table.

He turns his head to share a smile with Sonic to his left, who mouths another ‘good morning’ at him.

“We can cut up an apple for Elmo, right, Maddie?” Sonic requests, eyes big and pleading. One of his hands has wiggled its way to holding onto Shadow’s pinky, the touch firm but yielding in case it wasn’t wanted.

“As long as Elmo promises not to waste it or make a mess.” Maddie responds right away, looking to the little stuffie in her son’s friend’s lap with a raised brow. Shadow thinks for only a moment, then motions the monster to nod his head in agreement.

“One apple in slices, coming right up.” Maddie acquiesces, moving to do just that after dropping a kiss to Tom’s head on her way past.

—

Once bellies have been sufficiently filled, and Tom has done his rounds of good-byes and gone to work, Maddie gets started on the dishes with the explicit instruction for the boys to ‘play nice and give her some space’ until at least ten thirty. With that in mind, the Wachowski boys lead Shadow and Elmo out into the backyard so they can show off their blueprints and plans for a treehouse structure spanning three sycamores.

The woods behind the house are huge, they explain with enthusiasm, and are perfect for a base of operations for all kinds of mischief.

“And as training grounds for our recruits, eventually.” Knuckles adds, tapping at the space he’d mapped out in marker for a climbing wall and obstacle course.

Shadow gives a nod, unsure where these recruits would come from or what they would even be for. The idea looks interesting, at least.

“Y’know, we can add a space for you, too. Give you a room in one of the treehouses.” Sonic offers, picking up a red marker to do just that. Shadow’s nodding grows more enthusiastic, moving his hand to get Elmo to join in on the action.

“Can I ask-“ Tails begins, voice steady but awkward, “Shadow, why’re you bringing Elmo everywhere today?”

“I am wondering that as well. Could it be related to the vow of silence you have chosen to partake in?” Knuckles joins, hands at his hips. Eyes dart between the hedgehog and the monster he was keeping propped up to look like he was sitting on the picnic table.

Shadow’s stomach fills again with the squirming feeling. He’s ready to slide Elmo off the table and into his lap to cradle, or maybe even put away completely, when Sonic speaks up.

“It’s ‘cause I’m the best gift giver and he can’t contain how much he totally loves it. Plus, who doesn’t like soft and fluffy things? Right, Shadow?”

Yeah? Yeah, maybe that was it. Having Elmo around just kind of helped, today. Like as long as he could keep the fluffy monster at his side, he would be alright. Even not talking was okay, if Elmo could do it for him.

Elmo thinks it’s nice to take some time to be quiet for yourself, every once in a while. The smiling stuffie coos to him. Shadow plays with the soft arms, waving them up and down a few times before making him nod their agreement.

Tails looks unconvinced, but a single look from Sonic has him bending back over his blueprints with his green marker. “You never got me a super nice present like that.”

“Nonsense! You were very enthusiastic about the miniature train building device Sonic gifted you for the holiday tradition of gift-giving!” Knuckles argued, “You spent many hours on many days piecing together the delicate metalwork!”

“A stuffed animal would be nice, too.”

“Then perhaps I shall gift you one for your naming day! I will have our matriarch take me on a day when you are not with us, so it will be a surprise!”

Shadow tunes them out after that, content to run his hands over the soft fuzz on Elmo’s back like he was calming an upset child. Elmo didn’t mind. Elmo never minded if he was a little too squished in a hug, or if Shadow needed to squeeze his arm tight when his chest was too warm or his head felt too loud, like now.

“Hey.”

Sonic’s voice pulls him back, free hand wrapped in his to squeeze him back into his brain. “You know you don’t gotta be embarrassed or anything, right? You can carry Elmo and not talk if you wanna.”

I know. Shadow mouths, squeezing back once before taking his hand back.

“Good.” Sonic nods in approval, some tension ebbing out of his shoulders. “And Tails and Knuckles didn’t mean to make you feel that way, or get you upset. Sometimes they just let their mouths run ahead of their brains if they’re curious about somethin’.”

Only Tails and Knuckles?

Shadow quirks a brow, making Sonic duck his head and laugh. “Okay, me too. But trust me, it’s all good.”

Friends that care about each other ask lots of questions to learn more about their friends! Elmo does it all the time.

Shadow brings the stuffed monster to his cheek, letting the threads of his smile brush over the fur there in soft back-and-forth motions. The squirmy feeling finally leaves again, and he settles Elmo back into his lap just as Knuckles and Tails are busy bickering over where they would put the ziplines.

“Do you wanna hear a joke?” Sonic asks, eyes glued to Elmo when Shadow turns his head to look at him.

A joke? Shadow tilts Elmo’s head up, bead eyes looking at his. A joke would be nice. It might be better than sitting listening to treehouse plans that he can’t contribute to.

Elmo loves jokes and laughing!

Both of them turn to Sonic, nodding. The blue hedgehog breaks into a wild grin, body moving on the picnic bench to fully face the two of them.

“Okay, so there’s this monk place, right? And a guy’s car has broken down there a bunch, and every time he sees these monks going in and out of a secret door-“

The chatter over treehouses grinds to a halt, and twin groans interrupt Sonic’s story.

“You’re not telling it right! And it’s called a monastery-“

“Perhaps we should wait for Father Donut to tell it.” Knuckles offers, though the idea is immediately forgotten, and they all begin an easy trade off of bits and pieces in a story about a man, monks, and a secret behind an alarming number of doors.

Shadow’s face twitches into a smile as he listens, arms wrapped tight around Elmo as they both settle in to listen.

------

Ahhhh I really hope you liked it! Selectively mute, autistic Shadow is SUCH a relatable character and his attachment to Elmo is such a mood and so cute.

N.E. Ways, tysm for your beautiful art !

Okay, another small thing for Shadow being the biggest Elmo fan.

#shadow the hedgehog #sonic the hedgehog #sonic movie 3 #sonadow #sonic x shadow #shadic #sonic movie universe #nonverbal shadow #autistic shadow #my writing #Ryan writes #sonic movie fanfiction #work for others #shadow the hedgehog fanfic #sonic the hedgehog fanfic

472 notes · View notes

nightwriter357 · 3 days ago

Text

Just friends 12 - waiting for the other shoe to drop

I can't believe this story is almost over. My prediction is 2-3 more parts until we say goodbye to them. I hope you enjoy this instalment!!!

You were stretched out on the couch, your legs comfortably draped across Damien's lap. The low hum of the TV provided some background noise, but the real focus was the conversation brewing between the two of you.

"We should talk to Shayne and Angela soon, test the waters." You murmured, breaking the silence.

Damien turned to look at you, his hand resting on your thigh. "Number 3 on the list, huh?"

You gave him a small smile, nodding. "Yeah then it's just number 2 and then .. Telling people, being together... all of it."

For a moment, his fingers stilled against your leg, and you noticed the soft tension in his jaw before he exhaled with a light chuckle. "Crazy, huh?"

You shrugged slightly. "The 'being together' part feels normal. It's the 'other people knowing' part that gets me."

Damien's lips quirked. "Same. But... I want this." His voice was soft but firm. "I want us."

You felt warmth spread through your chest at his words, and you tapped your fingers against his knee. "So, how do you think Shayne and Angela will take it?"

Damien smirked before responding. "Calmly" laced with irony.

You smiled back at him. "Well, Angela probably already knows."

That earned a small grin. "Shayne will need a PowerPoint."

You laughed, nodding in agreement. "True. So, you can handle Shayne, and I'll take Angela."

Damien groaned, leaning his head back against the couch. "Do I have to?"

You raised an eyebrow, giving him a pointed look. "Seriously? He's your best friend. He'll take it better from you than me."

"Yeah, but he's Shayne," Damien protested. "He's going to ask a million questions, make me say it in like five different ways, and probably tease me for the rest of my life."

You smirked, leaning forward as an idea popped into your head. "Listen. You do Shayne, I do Angela then.. afterwards you do me, and I'll do you."

Damien froze for a beat before a slow grin spread across his face. "Oh, is that part of the deal now?"

You shrugged, trying to keep your face neutral even as your cheeks betrayed you with a flush. "Well, I mean, it's only fair. You take one for the team; I'll make it worth your while."

His laugh rumbled low in his chest, and he shook his head. "You're unbelievable."

"And you're stalling," you shot back, poking his shoulder lightly. "Focus, Damien. The plan."

Still chuckling, he ran a hand through his hair, his grin lingering. "Alright, fine. I'll take Shayne. But I'm definitely cashing in on that deal later."

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn't hide the small smile playing at your lips. "Sure, sure. But don't mess this up. Remember, this is strictly recon. No spilling the beans."

Damien gave you a mock salute. "Recon only. Got it. But if Shayne starts asking for charts or pie graphs, I'm sending him your way."

You laughed, nudging him with your foot. Then your expression softened. "You know... I still feel like I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop."

Damien looked at you, his eyes full of something tender. "if it does..." His hand slid down to your ankle, squeezing lightly. "I'll get you a new pair."

Your breath caught slightly. "It's that easy, huh?"

He nodded, thumb brushing idly against your skin. "Yeah. It's supposed to be."

You swallowed. "I guess I just... don't trust easy."

Damien's expression softened. "I know. But you trust me, right?"

You reached out and squeezed his hand in response, his fingers curled around yours like an unspoken promise as you spoke. "I guess it's strange having spent so much time and effort wanting something just like this"

He let out a small laugh. "to accept that you do?"

"Yeah."

Damien smiled, giving your hand a squeeze. "Then I guess I better go talk to Shayne so we can make this official ."

You sat up, swinging your legs off his lap. "Great. Hey, Shayne!" you called toward the hall. "Damien wants to talk to you!"

From somewhere down the hall, Shayne called back, "Can't, I'm going out!"

"Well, Damien wants to join you!" you shot back quickly, grinning as you stood up.

Damien's mouth fell open slightly. "Wait, what?"

"You'll be fine," you teased, patting his shoulder before getting up from the couch. "And remember, you owe me first."

"Looking forward to it," Damien called back, his voice warm with amusement.

And with that, you grabbed the bakery bag from the counter and slipped out the door, leaving Damien to fend for himself.

You knock twice, balancing the bag in one hand and your phone in the other. Angela's familiar, muffled shout of "Coming!" echoes through the door. It swings open moments later, revealing her in a sweatshirt that could double as a blanket and fuzzy socks that seem permanently affixed to her feet. Her sharp gaze immediately lands on you.

"This is unexpected," she says, stepping aside to let you in. "What's in the bag?"

"Bribery," you reply, holding it up as you step into her cozy living room. "Cinnamon rolls."

"Smart move," Angela quips, closing the door behind you. "Coffee's already on."

The apartment is its usual level of organized chaos—blankets draped over the couch, half-full mugs on the coffee table. But what grabs your attention is Sarah Christ standing in front of a corkboard, red string connecting photos and notes in a way that feels straight out of a crime drama.

You pause. "I didn't think people actually used red string to connect evidence and people."

Sarah Christ, without looking away from the board, replies, "You'd be surprised just how connected people can be right under your nose." She turns, finally meeting your gaze with a knowing look. "Like, say... right under this apartment. Just connecting all over the fucking place"

Angela waves her off. "Ignore her. She's just in work mode."

Sarah huffs, taking a cinnamon roll from the bag before retreating to the other side of the room. You settle onto the couch, the warmth of your coffee seeping through the mug.

Angela sits across from you, legs tucked under her. "So, what's up? You don't usually bribe me with baked goods unless it's serious."

You roll your eyes. "Can I not just bring you breakfast out of the goodness of my heart?"

Angela stares.

You hesitate, the warmth of the coffee grounding you as you search for the right words. "I just... wanted to get your opinion on something."

Her brow arches. "About Damien?"

You laugh nervously. "Why do you always assume it's about him?"

"Because it always is," Angela deadpans.

You glance down, realizing your fingers are fidgeting with the handle. "Okay, fine. It's about Damien."

"Shocking," Angela says, her tone laced with sarcasm but her expression curious. "What's the dilemma this time?"

"I just..." You take a breath. "Would you be okay with it? If something happened between us?"

Angela doesn't answer immediately, studying you instead. "You mean if you finally act on what we all know is inevitable?"

Your face warms. "Angela."

Your face burns as Angela smirks. "Just be prepared, because as soon as you make your intentions known, he's gonna wanna have your babies."

"Angela!" you hiss.

Sarah, still picking at her cinnamon roll, chimes in without missing a beat. "She's right."

You groan, covering your face with your hands. "I should've gone to Courtney."

Angela snickers. "She'd say the same thing, just with more dramatic hand gestures and a burp at the end."

You lower your hands, exhaling. "I'm serious, though. Would you be weird about it?"

Angela tilts her head. "Do you really think I'd be against you two?"

"I don't know," you admit. "You're my friend. He's your friend. I don't want it to be—"

"Weird?" Angela finishes for you.

You nod.

She leans back, crossing her arms. "I think Damien is good for you. And I think you're good for him. So, no, it wouldn't be weird. " Then she smirks. "At least not weirder then it already is."

You let out a relieved breath. "Okay."

Angela raises a brow. "So, are you actually gonna do something about it, or are you just here to get my blessing for like the millionth time?"

You glare at her. She grins. Sarah snorts.

Angela, takes another sip of her coffee, unbothered: "And hey, maybe if you finally bang it out, some of that sexual tension will fade away."

Sarah, reaching for another cinnamon roll, snorts. "Yeah, you'd think."

Your get up from the couch, trying to distract Angela from what Sarah Christ just said. "Okay, I'm leaving."

Angela, calls over her shoulder as you leave, "Good luck."

You shake your head, but the nervous weight in your chest feels just a little lighter.

You barely make it inside before you hear the front door open again. Voices carry through the apartment—Damien and Shayne, still caught up in conversation. You freeze, heart skipping, then quickly slip into Damien's room. Your shoe accidentally fell off on the way but it seems to be in a place where they won't notice. They're still talking, and the last thing you want is to interrupt.

You leave the door slightly ajar, just enough to hear them clearly.

"Man, living with people is weird," Damien says, his tone casual but thoughtful. "Like, you spend so much time with them, see them at their worst, at their best. It makes you think."

Shayne snorts. "You getting sentimental on me?"

"No, I just mean... when you live with someone, it changes things. You start to see them differently."

There's a pause. Then Shayne lets out a sharp breath, like he just realized something. "Oh my God, Damien. I'm flattered, really, but—"

"What? No!" Damien sputters immediately, caught off guard. "Shayne, what the fuck?"

Shayne gasps, putting on a mock-serious tone. "Damien. This is so sudden."

"Why does your mind go straight to that?!" Damien groans, clearly exasperated.

"I don't know, man! You're being all serious about roommates and how they change things—what was I supposed to think?" Shayne says, barely holding back laughter.

Damien sighs, trying to recover. "Look, I'm just saying... sometimes, you live with someone, and you realize how much they add to your life. How funny they are, how smart. How they get you in a way no one else does."

There's a pause, then Shayne hums knowingly. "Ah, okay. Now I see where this is going."

You hold your breath, fingers gripping the edge of Damien's dresser.

"It's not just about me," Shayne teases. "Maybe it's also about someone who, say, also lives here?"

Damien chuckles, but doesn't confirm or deny anything. "I'm just saying, sometimes it's worth appreciating the people closest to you."

Shayne puts his hand on Damien's shoulder, "I appreciate you too, Damien." He gives him a final pat on the shoulder before heading toward the kitchen. Damien, still smiling to himself, pushes open his bedroom door—

—and nearly jumps when he sees you.

"Jesus—" He stops short, hand still on the doorknob. "What the—why are you in here?"

You give him a small, sheepish wave. "Uh... surprise?"

He blinks, clearly trying to process this. "How much of that did you hear?"

You tilt your head and squint at him. "Mmm, enough to get a little jealous."

Damien groans, rubbing his face. "Great." He exhales sharply, then looks down at your feet and smirks. "So the other shoe did drop?"

You glance down at your naked foot, a small smile tugging at your lips. You’d been waiting—waiting for something to go wrong, waiting for an excuse to keep holding back, waiting for the inevitable moment when this whole thing fell apart. But now, standing here, partly shoeless and in love with a man you'd trust with your life—maybe even trust enough to buy you a new pair—waiting seemed overrated.

"It did," you murmur, lifting your gaze back to his. "And I'm not waiting for the other one to drop."

His eyes flick between yours, searching. "So... does that mean we're actually doing this?"

Your stomach flips, but you nod. "Yeah. As soon as we complete the list."

A slow grin spreads across his face. "Right, so what does this make it? Three out of five?"

You huff a small laugh. "Yep. We just need to hang out alone as just friends and—" you gesture vaguely at his face, "—you still need to stop looking at me like that."

Damien smirks despite himself, stepping closer. "I can't. I think my face is stuck this way."

You roll your eyes, but your breath hitches slightly when he moves closer, hands bracing on either side of you. He studies you for a beat before his lips twitch.

His hand lifts to cup your cheek. "So... about that 'you do me, I do you' thing..."

Your eyebrows lift. "Did I say that?"

Damien let his fingers slide to the back of your neck as his thumb brushed your jaw. "I'm pretty sure you did."

You pause, biting your lip as you look down. "Well, if you say so... but we need to be quiet."

Damien leans in, voice dropping. "Can you be quiet?"

You meet his gaze, heat simmering between you. Then, with a smirk, you murmur, "Absolutely not."

#smosh #damien haas #smoshblr #damien haas x reader #damien haas x you #fanfic #smosh fanfiction #smosh squad

35 notes · View notes

louiseolivier · 22 hours ago

Text

Fluffebruary: Moving in Together

Written for @bucktommyfluffebruary

AO3 link

It was dark out and late, probably close to 10PM. All their friends and family had gone, leaving Buck and Tommy alone in their new home—a 90’s built split-level in a truly sickening shade of yellow. Unfortunately, painting the siding was low on the list of maintenance the house needed.

Buck had his stint in construction, and Tommy painstakingly renovated the Craftsman he recently sold for a small fortune, so a lot of it they could do themselves. What they wouldn’t fuck with was electrical, and the house needed a new A/C unit. Of course, it was the middle of July, and their choices were to wait a week for a crew to come out or pay what Buck considered grand larceny to bump their job up to priority. They stupidly chose the former.

Buck sat on the floor in front of the couch, keying in streaming passwords, and, WOW, was that a conversation he never thought he’d have.

“So, do we keep my Nexflix?”

“No. I’ve been with them since they were disc only.”

“Bu-but my recommendations.”

“Too bad.”

Tommy came in with the fan from their bedroom. “Oh, thank God!” Buck groaned and threw his head back, reveling in the blast of air as soon as Tommy turned it on. The doorbell rang, and he gave a punch of joy. The pizza had arrived. The first delivery to their home. Just in time, too, because Buck was ready to gnaw his arm off.

Tommy returned with the pies and unceremoniously plopped them onto Buck’s lap. He swung his leg over Buck’s shoulder and sat behind him on the couch. Buck handed Tommy the top pie, opened the one on his lap, and then they both closed their respective boxes and switched.

Buck hated onions, and Tommy hated green peppers, and both were sick of abstaining for the sake of the other. They could, and did once, order half and half, but it was impossible to not find a stray onion on Buck’s side or for the green peppers not to permeate the entire pie. Now, they each order their own. Which was no hardship, honestly.

They didn't keep their own Netflix accounts. Not at over $17 a month, they weren’t. They canceled and kept Tommy’s Hulu bundle and Buck’s Max account, but if they decided to resubscribe in the future, they would sign up with their email. The joint email their joint bills were sent, like the mortgage, gas, electric, and garbage. All the things Buck hadn’t had to deal with being a lifelong renter. It was freaking exhilarating!

Buck turned his head and kissed Tommy’s knee. He rubbed his stubble against it and then dug into his onionless pizza. “How’s your back?” he asked around a mouthful.

Tommy’s blunt nails scratched against his scalp, and Buck moved into it. “I’ll live. I thought about digging through the bathroom boxes for the heating pad, but it’s so hot, I’m sure you putting your hand against it would be just as good.” Buck snorted and then groaned, throwing his slice back into the box. “What’s wrong?” Tommy asked.

“This one wants the password. No QR code. And it’s one of yours, so it’s, like 20 characters,” Buck groused.

“Poor, baby,” Tommy cooed.

Buck gave a soft grin. He couldn’t see him, but just from his tone, Buck knew Tommy had his head tipped back, eyes closed, chewing absentmindedly. They were both exhausted, and all Buck wanted to do was start a movie and eat pizza with his partner. In their home.

“Hey, remember cable?” Buck asked. He pulled his phone close and tried to figure out if the next letter was an uppercase I or a lowercase l. “It was kind of amazing, right? Maybe we should cancel all of this and get cable instead.”

The hand in hair gripped and gave a light tug. “I do remember, and I remember how hellish it was trying to get out of it. No dice.” Tommy went back to scratching, and Buck grunted, dissatisfied with his answer but understanding Tommy’s point of view. “You know what else I remember?” Tommy asked. “Antennas. Our father refused to get cable until 1997. Not only that, but the TV we used the most was black and white.”

Buck twisted around to see Tommy's face. He was right. Tommy's head rested against the couch, and his eyes were barely open. Buck grinned uncertainly, not sure if Tommy was kidding. “Really? You only had black and white?”

“I didn’t say that. We had a huge—well, huge at the time—36” color TV that did picture-in-picture and had the option to add surround sound. But after 5PM on weekdays, and forget about the weekends, that TV became my father’s. That left the 12” black and white that still used a rotary tuner for my brother and I to fight over.”

“And since he was three years older...”

“Got his way, yeah.”

Buck gave Tommy’s knee another kiss. “I’m sorry,” he said, feeling bad for little Tommy.

Tommy shrugged. “That’s life, right? Anyway, it worked out on Fridays. TGIF was pretty much the only thing CJ and I agreed on.”

“Was that a TV show?”

Tommy froze, slice halfway to his mouth, and then he frowned. “I can’t tell if you’re fucking with me or not?”

Buck smirked. “I am. Sorta. Like, I’ve heard of it I’m just not 100% sure what the line-up was.”

“Most of the time, I forget there’s an age gap, and then you’ll say something...”

“In my defense, I was popculturally sheltered. Mom and Dad wanted us to read...”

“Which you hated.”

“...which I hated,” Buck agreed. “When I did get to watch, I was mostly relegated to PBS.”

“Mostly?”

“I caught a rerun of Mystery Science Theater 3000 one Sunday morning and was hooked. They didn’t object for whatever reason, so most of my movie knowledge comes from bad B movies from the 60s and 70s.”

Tommy chuckled and said affectionately, “Nerd.” He pulled himself down with a hand around Buck’s neck, and they shared a greasy, pizza-y kiss. Tommy tasted like pepperoni, sauce, and onions. Gross, but sometimes sacrifices had to be made for love. Buck pushed Tommy’s pizza box out of the way and straddled his lap, logging into their streaming services forgotten. They kissed again, and Buck knew Tommy was suffering just as much with his green pepper breath.

When the kiss broke, Tommy nuzzled into Buck’s neck, and Buck stroked the sweat-damp hair at the back of Tommy’s head. It was too hot to be this close, but Buck couldn’t bring himself to care, and he was pleased to know Tommy felt the same. “You know, going forward, TV, movies, music, technology, all of it, we’ll get to experience together. The gaps between us are going to narrow.”

“They barely exist now,” Tommy said. He pulled back, staring at Buck intensely. His fingertips followed the line of Buck’s jaw, and with just a touch of pressure to his chin, Tommy tilted Buck’s face. Their lips brush together two and then three times. “I think we’re going to be happy here,” Tommy confessed.

In the house they bought, in the relationship they built, and with the love they made, Buck agreed. "I know we will.

#bucktommyfluffebruary #tevan #bucktommy #tommy kinard #kinley #buck x tommy #evan buckley #tevan fanfiction #bucktommy fanfic

25 notes · View notes

centuryberry · 16 hours ago

Note

I'm thinking of Unpaid Babysitting again, specifically yuetian in that world

Their disaster first meeting of Yue finding him about to kill Wukong and being like "unhand my father you fiend-! Oh wait shit you kinda cute fr" and xiaotian brain freezing from Pretty Girl.

Xiaotian going "the destruction of the universe can wait for now,,," after getting meeting one pretty girl he's so real 🙏 god bless him and his unbeatable yearning for yue

Do you perchance have any more tidbits of them in this verse for me to gnaw on :3 any silly thoughts I can eat :3 /nf

Oh gosh, an opportunity for some silly/fluffy Yuetian after writing so much angst! Okay, here I go:

Wukong and Macaque may kinda approve of Ink!Xiaotian since he bested them in combat, but they're no way happy that their little girl is so blatantly smitten with this stranger who came out of nowhere. She's too young for this, dammit! (Everyone else: No, she's not.)

Since Xiaotian is technically a criminal, Yue had to collar him. Not a celestial circlet (Yue banned those things ages ago) but a special collar that Yue carved seals into to make sure he behaves. This may or may not have awakened a few things in both of them but that's not important. A bell had to be added to the collar since he kept scaring everyone by being so quiet.

Ink!Xioatian and Peng beef with each other so hard. Yue had to take a step back from her daily verbal sparring matches to hold her new boyfriend - I mean, responsibility back from roasting the bird.

Ink!Xiaotian is often seen holding Yue's hand and trailing after her everywhere.

Red Son and Mei are older in this AU, so Yue often goes to them for romantic advice and they're like - IDK, she/he just came to me prepackaged. Our marriage was arranged. Our parents handled everything. (Red Son: Also, can I punch him? As an older brother figure, I feel like I should punch him. Yue: No. One, I like his face and two, he'd probably deck you.)

Ink!Xiaotian adores the baby monkeys of FFM. He's been surrounded by corrupted souls for so long that innocence was just a concept until he met them. They're so soft and trusting and playful. He loves them. He thinks he and Yue should have thirty.

#queen of the mountain #answered ask #lmk #unpaid babysitting #yuetian #ink!mk #qi xiaotian #yuebei xing #yue #the sundown era #shadowpeach #dragonfruit

21 notes · View notes

noellawrites · 2 days ago

Text

Dark!Sonny Carisi R*pe and Impregnation HC’s

a/n: happy anniversary my love @rafaslittleboy <3 also gender neutral but afab reader

warning: DARK CONTENT AHEAD, please do not read if this disturbs you! includes: rape, impregnation, virginity loss, inaccurate portrayal of abortion laws, manipulation, forced pregnancy, lmk if i missed any

- As Dominick Carisi Junior’s paralegal, you have a very professional relationship with him. Always running errands, filing papers, gathering reports

- But one day, he asks if you’re free that evening to babysit his three kids

- And you agree, of course, knowing he’s been going through a rough period with his wife

- But when you arrive, only Sonny is there

- “Sorry kid, there’s been a change ‘a plans. ‘Manda’s mom’s watchin’ the kids, ‘n ‘Manda’s off doin’ work stuff,” Dominick sighs, welcoming you in

- You’d been alone with Mr. Carisi many times, but this felt… different. The vibes were off

- He tells you to stick around, that you can help him out with work stuff and he’ll still give you money for it

- You share a few drinks, not unlike some of the late nights you’ve spent in his office together

- Later on, you’re definitely tipsy and sitting on the couch next to your boss

- All of a sudden, his lips are on yours in a passionate kiss, and you feel sick and confused

- Your brain is lagging behind your body, and Mr. Carisi is pulling your underwear and bottoms down your legs

- “Shh, this is jus’ between us, kiddo. Lemme make ‘ya feel good,” he say in your ear as your head lolls back

- At some point, you end up on the bed and he’s pulling his dick out of his pants

- “Been waitin’ so long f’this,” you hear him growl before he pushes in, painfully taking your virginity as you lay paralyzed with fear

- “Mr. Carisi, s-stop!” you whimper, which is pretty much all you can do as he fucks you deeper and more passionately

- He’s thrusting so roughly, and after a few moments you can feel him blow his load in you as he tells you how tight your hole is

- You pass out at some point and wake up in his marital bed the next morning with a dull, throbbing pain between your legs and a check for seventy-five thousand dollars on the nightstand next to you

- You think you must’ve imagined it, you’re in shock and disbelief. Your boss, the man who has worked to bring sexual predators to justice for the last decade? Raping you?

- And the next day at work, Mr. Carisi acts totally normal. Talks about how proud he is of his kids, how his son just took his first steps. It’s almost like nothing ever happened between you

- He gives you a wink, saying he’s always down for some more fun, and that’s the last you hear of it

- You love your job, and you need it, so you go back to acting normal with Mr. Carisi

- Until six weeks later, when you start arriving late and disheveled, sometimes calling out entirely

- “What’s goin’ on with ‘ya, kiddo? C’mon, talk t’me,” Sonny presses, putting a hand on your shoulder comfortingly

- He hasn’t crossed your boundaries since that night, so you’ve gotten more comfortable with him again

- “I’ve just been really sick,” you mumble, rubbing your forehead

- “Maybe ah’ should take ‘ya to a doctor,” he frowns, feigning concern. He knows exactly what’s “wrong” with you.

- “I’m fine,” you mumble, but after a few moments you get up and run to the bathroom to puke again

- “Let’s go,” you sigh, “I probably have the flu or something.”

- The doctor writes down your symptoms and orders a blood test, and you wait in the lobby with Sonny for about an hour until your results are ready

- You know you must be imagining it when the nurse tells you that you’re pregnant, about six weeks along

- Sonny hugs you, tells you how amazing it is that you’ve created the miracle of life together, and you stand still in shock.

- The first words to come out of your mouth are, “when can I come back for an abortion?”

- Sonny’s smile falls and he grabs your wrist, “what tha’ hell?”

- You tell him you don’t want a kid, you’re too young and not ready for it, but he’s not listening

- "'Ya really want an abortion? I ain't gonna let that happen, kiddo. I'll see 'ya in court," he snaps.

- The nurse gives you some resources but you know that Mr. Carisi will find a way to get what he wants, like always

- Your lawyer tells you that Amanda has been unfaithful to Sonny and he just found out that Nicky Carisi isn't his biological son, which is why he's so adamant on forcing you to carry to term

- Your lawyer goes for the rape angle, since you were actually raped and shouldn't be forced to carry the child

- Needless to say, Sonny and his lawyer eviscerate you on the stand, and it's emphasized by the sob story of what happened with Amanda

- He truly sees you and this child as his second chance, and there is no way he's letting you ruin it

- You can't take care of your newborn in New York City on a paralegal salary, and Sonny convinces you to move in with him and out of your shitty apartment

- You share custody, but slowly you can feel yourself becoming more attached to both Sonny and your baby

- You have to work from home, both the new baby and the postpartum struggles making it too hard to go in and do your job

- Before long, Sonny is already talking about baby number two. He needs this family, needs to rebuild what he lost through Amanda's infidelity

- That's when you realize, it was hopeless to ever try and leave

#law and order svu x reader #dark sonny carisi #yandere law and order svu #sonny carisi x reader #law and order svu #law and order svu imagine #carisi x reader #dark law and order svu #yandere sonny carisi #dark law and order imagine

23 notes · View notes

ishgard · 10 months ago

Text

Okay this is not going to be a very official looking post because 1. I don't have the steam for it and 2. I think the timing with Dawntrail's release would probably not be great.

But I did a while back make a "WoL-y" (pronounced like the fish "walleye" to sort of rhyme with "July") monthly prompt list. Normally I'd attempt to make a nice little graphic for it, but after trying a couple of times and feeling dissatisfied I've woefully given up :'D (If anyone feels possessed of the desire to do so, by all means feel free!)

Alternatively if you want to just pocket these for later once the DT hype has cooled a bit, go for it! OR trim a couple out and make it a countdown to DT, I'm just setting them free. So without further ado:

A Warrior of Light Month of Prompts!~

Morning Routine

Adventure

Companions

Fond Memories

Patron Deity

Origins

Specialty

Laughter

Adventurer's Guild

Favored Weapon

Discovery

Secret

Echo

Beach Episode

In Another Life…

Best Friend

Dungeon

Holiday

Habits

Darkest Hour

Victory

Crafting & Gathering

Allied Tribe

Haunting

Beloved

Beloathed

Sanctuary

Family

Bad End

Perfect Day

Bedtime Rituals

#i would love to see them if anyone does them #but i simply do not have the spoons sadly #on one hand i should probably just wait until i do #but also it's one of those things on the shelf of my mind just nagging at me to finish so X'D

160 notes · View notes

torchickentacos · 13 days ago

Text

I just got an email from a professor notifying me that it's the last day to submit the first assignment, and this is somehow the first time that anyone's actually called me out on my habit of getting stuff done 6 hours before it's due. huh.

#on one hand I do appreciate the concern. on the other hand I live like this constantly and have it under control :)#by 'under control' I mean I'm waiting for the panic motivation to set in and just chilling in the meantime #but literally it's fine. i swear. it's not a big deal until like 10 PM. I have ages. this is FINEEEEEEEE.#did anyone else have to watch the instant gratification monkey ted talk in some sort of high school counselor group #because I did. and it's that.#and I have not learned a single thing since then.#i have not rerouted my monkey. i simply know how to work with him now. this is my circus and this is my monkey but I am the ringleader.#britney spears actually wrote circus about procrastinating. it's a little known fact that's totally true and not made up at all #anyways.#i'm typing this with my work open in another tab so i guess i should probably start it if I want it turned in before 11:30

6 notes · View notes

disagigglebilities · 2 years ago

Text

Fuck it. I'm buying a wheelchair when I move. We have one small step inside which means if it's a light one I can probably get it up and down by myself so. At the very least it might make it easier for me to get out of the house.

#the question of course is do i bother trying to get doctor approval #all the doctors are afraid ill lose muscle mass if i use a wheelchair as if i dont simply not go anywhere #i wonder who i should talk to tho #my supposed PCP who hates me #my neurologist #one of my PTs #my hand therapist (mostly to just verify that my hands probably eont get too fucked up if i use both my legs and arms to move)#hm hm hm options #i could also wait until i move and discuss it with the new pcp that ill have to get

11 notes · View notes

osamucide · 5 months ago

Text

⊹ I AIN'T NOTHIN' BUT A NASTY DOG!

. . . BSD MEN AS OVERUSED PORN PLOTS!

wc: 5.3k

cw: MINORS DNI—explicit sexual content, gn!+afab!reader, a lot of anonymous sex, dirty talk, BIG DICK MEN, probably a good amount of ooc, some questionable dynamics/dubcon that can be read through the lens of roleplay and/or prior consent. character-specific warnings—chuuya: public sex, penetration; dazai: penetration, riding, creampie; kunikida: professor/student, oral (m!receiving); fukuzawa: secretary/boss, office sex, oral (m!receiving), facefucking; atsushi: HEAVY DUBCON WARNING, stuck, perv atsushi, penetration; akutagawa: blackmailing if you squint, degradation, choking, penetration; oda: penetration; ango: public sex, penetration, riding; nikolai: dubcon, home intruder f!masturbation, penetration; sigma: a tiny bit of perv sigma, oral (f!receiving); fyodor: priest!fyodor, religion/blasphemy kink, christianity-specific, oral (m!receiving)

reid: putting my dual major in journalism to work by subtitling these like bad porn videos. little not so thought out drabbles many with no definitive ending just silly whore thoughts. some are more stupid than sexy but either way i hope you enjoy because this was a blast to write HAHAHAHA

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

⊹ CHUUYA NAKAHARA—HOT GYM BUDDIES CAN’T WAIT UNTIL AFTER THEIR WORKOUT TO FUCK!

“Yeah, that’s a lot better. Look at you, you got it,” the pretty redhead mutters, his hands still firmly on your hips as he spots your squat. “Give me one more, I know you can.”

The praise prompts you to draw in a deep breath that has nothing to do with your next squat; anyway, this gorgeous man, kind enough to help you with your form, believes in you. So you bend once more, squatting down, down, and pushing back up—until on your way back up, you feel your legs begin to buckle.

“Woah, woah.” It’s sweet how concerned he sounds as his hands fly up to the bar and his feet nudge you forward to help you replace the weight on the rack, but his hips end up pressed to yours, and you’re gasping. “You okay?”

You’re fine, caged between him and the bar as he leans over your shoulder to glimpse your face that’s flushed from exertion. Only exertion, surely, even though your ass is pressed firmly to his pelvis. He doesn’t seem hard, but you can still feel it, and it feels big.

“Yeah,” you breathe, moving to duck under the bar, but it’s low and you’re feeling a little dizzy, so you teeter backwards into him, and as his hands find your waist again. “Yeah, I’m about to be done anyway.”

“You should really stretch after maxing out like that,” he suggests, turning you around. “Don’t wanna be hurting, do you?”

But you can only look into his intense eyes and shake your head lightly before he’s easing you to the ground on your back, settling each of his knees over one of your thighs, and slotting his shoulder beneath your hamstring. He pushes forward, gently, slowly, looking to you for anything wrong; and there isn’t.

There’s nothing wrong, except for the fact that you can feel his huge dick against your pussy through both of your shorts.

It’s all you need to start moving blindly, reaching down for his waistband, pawing at his neck, mashing his lips to yours, and he doesn’t hesitate to do it back—he lets up on your leg only to slip your shorts off before your ankle is back over his shoulder and he’s grinding the head of his cock into your wetness.

“You gonna let me in, baby?” he pants hotly, looking down at you squirming beneath him. “Yeah, I know you will—you’re strong, you can take it.”

His tip catches on your clit, and you gasp before he’s plunging into you, setting a brutal pace. “Oh, fuck!”

“Oh, fuck, yeah,” he groans. “So fuckin’ tight.”

He hits the inside of you perfectly, his soft ginger hair falling loose from its low pony—you wish you knew his name so you could scream it, but you settle for moaning, panting, cussing, as he throws your other leg over his shoulder and drills into you on the gym mat. ⊹

⊹ OSAMU DAZAI—MY OLDER BROTHER ALMOST CAUGHT ME FUCKING HIS BEST FRIEND!

“Shit—I’ll be back, gonna go shower this off. Asshole.”

That was what your older brother, Chuuya, grumbled at Dazai before scurrying off to the bathroom. The three of you had just gotten back from getting ice cream, and Dazai had the brilliant idea of snatching Chuuya’s cone from him and sticking it in his hair. Cursing ensued the entire walk home.

And Dazai popped the tail end of his cone in his mouth and grabbed for your wrists as soon as your brother was out of sight, which leads you to now—in the living room, on the couch, bouncing furiously on his cock as he grunts.

“Osamu—be quiet!” you plead with him, but you’re moaning, too.

His lips fall into a grin. “Don’t worry, cutie, I can still hear the shower—fuck! Just keep—keep doing that, you feel so fucking good.”

So you reinforce your grip on his shoulders and slam your hips down to meet his, over and over, drawing sinful sounds from both of your bodies as you’re separated by a single thin wall from your brother—Dazai’s best friend, who would probably murder both of you if he found out you were fucking.

And then the water turns off. You muffle the choked cry you let out into Dazai’s shoulder, so damn frustrated that you won’t get there, not before Chuuya comes back—but Dazai’s flipping you onto your back, grabbing you by your hips, pulling you into him with such fervor that you almost shout.

“Need it, baby, I need to cum in this pussy—”

“Osamu!”

But even you can’t tell if you’re egging him on or warning him to stop—with no sound buffer and Chuuya undoubtedly coming back any minute, your body decides for you that you need it, too, you need to cum and you will, no matter how much your mind protests; your eyes flick nervously up to the hallway when they’re not rolling back from how Dazai’s rearranging your guts.

“He’s gonna come back—unh—and you’re gonna sit here with my cum in you, and he won’t even fuckin’ know.”

He’s digging his nails into your hips and ass, making you twitch, reaching down to rub your clit hard, and when you cum, clenching around him, he shoves his palm over your mouth and spills into you with a last few wet smacks.

Dazai’s scrambling back into his pants as footsteps pad down the hall; he all but throws himself at the other end of the couch as you curl up, dressed but fucked silly, focused on not letting the evidence of what just happened gush out of you and leak onto the couch.

“Fuck was that noise?” Chuuya mumbles, sauntering out as he’s tying his wet hair up.

“Hm? I don’t know, I didn’t hear anything.”

When Chuuya turns toward the kitchen, Dazai tosses you a wink. Your face burns as you feel yourself leaking. ⊹

⊹ DOPPO KUNIKIDA—COLLEGE HOTTIE SUCKS DICK FOR EXTRA CREDIT!

"You do realize I'm going to have to fail you," your professor informs you, looking into your eyes with a little regret. Truthfully, you've always been personable in class and shown promise as a student, and he's disappointed. Not in you, just in your poor academic performance during your final semester.

"There has to be something I can do to make up for it," you nearly plead, hands clasped together on the edge of his desk as you look to him with hope. You know you've been slacking, but you need this class to graduate.

"I don't know—" He sighs your name, clearly confliced. Your attendance record is less than impressive these days, and Kunikida's enforced a strict class participation policy throughout his years of teaching—as well as no extra credit—something he makes clear to all of his students in all of his classes, and you especially should know better after taking his classes for four years. "I don't know. Like what?" Maybe you can do a few credits in the summer and still walk at graduation, or pick up an internship. But he wants you to take the initiative and accountability.

He doesn't really know how to protest when you're slipping out of your seat and sinking to your knees as a spark starts to gleam in your eyes. You rattle off a few academic ideas for posterity, but ultimately find your hands sliding up his thighs and fiddling with his belt.

Fuck it, you think, you'll be out of here soon enough. Plus, Kunikida's always been kind, compassionate, understanding, and sexy—too invested in his field to even notice that handfuls of students on campus would throw themselves at him given the chance. Maybe he'll finally understand, you muse to yourself, as you work his hardening cock out of his dress pants.

He chokes out your name when you take his length in both of your hands; he's all the way gone when you're swirling your tongue over his tip, giving in to your little idea for extra credit sooner than he'd ever admit to himself.

"Oh, fuck—" He's staring up at the ceiling of his office in pure bliss because his student is working hot, sloppy kisses down the underside of his cock. His hands twist into your hair, and you gaze up at him, doe-eyed, as his head falls forward and he looks at you through his glasses. "Keep going. Don't fucking stop."

He's trying not to thrust into your mouth when you fondle his balls; his pretty blond bangs are dampening with sweat, and you can't take your eyes off him as you bob your head faster, hollowing your cheeks around him and moaning at the taste of your professor's cock heavy in your mouth. He twitches and jumps at your attention to detail—your fingers raking tracks down his thighs, your frantic tongue, your fluttering lashes and sugary moans, gags, and slurps that are music to him.

You know, as he falls apart more and more by the second, you won't have to worry about this class anymore.

"Unh—uh, yes, oh, fuck, we'll work something out, yeah, gorgeous? Just don't stop—d—don't stop, don't fucking stop, I'm gonna cum down that pretty throat, yeah, and we'll get it all figured out." ⊹

⊹ YUKICHI FUKUZAWA—NAUGHTY SECRETARY SEDUCES HOT BOSS!

You're perched on his desk when he returns from the meeting—Yukichi, your boss, who, lately, you can't stop thinking about climbling like a tree. You're sure your coworkers see it, too, but you're his personal assistant; no one gets to be as close to him as you, and he trusts you.

Which is why you'll put the moves on him today.

He runs a hand through his silver hair—obviously stressed—sighing as he pulls his office door shut and turns to you. He speaks your name, holds a few papers in your direction, begins instructing you on what he needs from you next.

But you know better what he needs. The papers that make their way into your hands are quickly forgotten about on his desk as you uncross your legs and hop down, sauntering up to place on hand on his arm, the other on his chest.

"Sir, you look so tense. Are you sure there isn't anything else I can do?"

He makes his way to sit down in his office chair, disregarding your touch in a way that has you following after him like a puppy in need of attention.

He doesn't answer, but he also doesn't protest when you settle between his knees beneath his desk and push his yukata and haori up to pool around his hips. His dick is thick and veiny, even soft; when you spit in your hand and begin to work him up and down his mouth falls open with a sigh, and he grows at least two inches as he hardens beneath your grip.

You didn't think you'd be able to fit his absolute monster cock in your mouth, but you find yourself, throat open, with your nose pressed to his happy trail as you swirl your tongue and breathe through your nose frantically; he holds your face down, speaking very little but making up for it with the way he grunts hotly in that deep, rough voice as he bucks into the back of your throat.

"Unh—ugh..."

You breathe through your nose as his hips fall into a brutal pace; his hands on either side of your head keep you pinned in place as he uses you, takes his stress out on you. Your fingers massage his balls, and you can't help the way you hum around him when he twitches in your mouth.

Yukichi pulls out of your jaw and you gasp for air, wiping the spit that drips down your chin with the back of your hand, but he's not done. When he does speak, it's demanding, low, and it makes your cunt throb with need.

"Get up. Get up, sit on the desk. 'Need to fuck you."

You do as you’re told, open up for him with no hesitation, smiling as he works his fat cock into you—yeah, his stress will be gone in no time with the way he fucks your hole so hard and fast that you shake with each creak of his desk. ⊹

⊹ ATSUSHI NAKAJIMA—STUCK IN THE ELEVATOR WITH MY SEXY NEIGHBOR!

"Ah! Atsushi, open the door!"

"Um," he frets, punching the button until he's sure it'll break. If it's not broken already. "I—I can't, it's not working!"

Not working? Is he fucking serious? You're trapped in the door—all you did was try to reach back out for your bag you'd set by the elevator and now you're stuck, by the waist, between the two sliding maneuvers, your bag dangling from your hands.

"It's supposed to have a sensor! It's not supposed to even close when someone's on the threshold!" you cry through your teeth as you try to squirm out. Atsushi's mind is already working, though, over the way you're pinned in half, wiggling your ass as you struggle against the industrial strength of the elevator door. "Atsushi, help me, please call someone or something—"

But his hands are on your hips, pulling backward, and you can't help the noise of surprise that slips out of you.

"Atsu', I seriously don't think that will work, please, just call—Atsushi!"

His hands shake as he slides your pants and underwear down your thighs, exposing your ass; he tunes out your protesting as he undoes his belt. You hear the clink of it hitting the ground, you feel his fingers dipping into your cunt from behind, and he cannot be fucking serious.

"I'm sorry," he cries like it's out of his control—he feels like it is. "I'm sorry, you're so hot, you're right here, I've wanted this for so long."

And you feel yourself beginning to drip at his desperate tone. You can't fucking believe it—this is depraved. This is some shit you would've never expected from the sweet, cute boy in the apartment across the hall who helped you drag your bedframe and couch from this very elevator to your room but here he is, prodding at you with his pathetically leaky cock while you're stuck in the damn elevator door.

And you'd be frustrated with how your body reacts, but as he slides his dick along your cunt, drenching himself in your wetness, you can't help but arch back into his touch.

"Atsushi, you have to fuck me, please."

And he does, fast and unpracticed—he whimpers for you, tells you you're all he thinks about when he jerks off; he confesses that he looks through his peephole when he knows you're leaving for work or school just to get at least one glimpse of you everyday to fuel his imagination, and you gush around him, the pain of the door trapping you falling irrelevant, drifting out of your mind, as he buries his face in your shoulder and humps into you like an animal, pounding against your cervix.

"Fuck, that's right, so good, so, so good—better than I could've imagined—agh, fuck, that's right, take it all, take it, take it, take it...!" ⊹

⊹ RYUUNOSUKE AKUTAGAWA—HOT BABE HAS NO MONEY, LETS THE DELIVERY BOY DESTROY THAT PUSSY!

You rifle through your wallet and hum when you come up short. "Um, I... know you said you don't have a card reader, but I don't have enough cash."

The delivery boy looks at you with little more than boredom until you invite him in.

"Here, let me look in my room—I might have more stashed somehwere..."

He stands over you, searching you with his curious gray eyes as you dig through a drawer, a bag, another bag, only to come up short again. You even peek under your mattress for good measure, but you're just out. You turn to him sheepishly.

"I, uh... I don't have enough, I'm really sorry."

"Well, I can't leave without some form of payment," he deadpans, and you try to think of something, anything—you have a few giftcards for other delivery services, some jewelry—but he's letting his bag fall off his shoulder and grabbing you by the hips before you can register what he means.

You end up face down, ass up on your bed as a compromise, his hips rutting into you from behind as he holds your wrists behind your back. Ryuunosuke his name tag read—you're quick to adopt a way around that mouthful, moaning out, "Ryuu, Ryuu, please!" as he splits you open and calls you a whore.

"Fuckin' slut—"

When you're able to glance back for a second you can see his pretty black hair swaying with each rough thrust, and you're sure he's hitting your lungs—he's so fucking deep inside you, and you're gasping, moaning for more.

"—so eager to—unh—take this dick. Probably hiding your cash somewhere."

But whether you are or not doesn't matter; your eyes are rolling back to the hard smack of his hips against your ass and the white-hot pleasure that rolls through you every time he plows straight into your g-spot, and he's throbbing inside of you at the way your cunt grips him. Your pizza's getting cold on the counter in your kitchen, but you don't care—not when he bunches his fingers up in your hair to arch you back up to him so he can wrap his other hand around your throat.

You hold onto him as he bends you, pulling air down into your lungs when you can, and his gravelly voice barrages you with more words that make you gush around his cock.

"Gonna let me cum in this pussy so you don't have to fork over a few bucks for a pizza? Pathetic."

His teeth sink into your shoulder, his other hand reaches down to torture your neglected clit, and you're sure he's gonna break you over this, your hot delivery boy who just so happened to have the idea to fill you up as payment. You pant his name desperately between thunderous moans—you're gonna cum soon. ⊹

⊹ SAKUNOSUKE ODA—THIS PLUMBER FIXED MORE THAN JUST MY PIPES!

"Okay, that should do it." The man stands up, back to a height at which he towers over you, and you lean on the doorframe to the kitchen as he shuts the cabinets beneath your sink. "It's all movin' again."

You were in your robe when you answered the door, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't run to the bathroom to fix your hair and swipe on a little lip balm while he was working. Really, you hadn't meant to try to fuck the plumber. But this man was gorgeous, with his auburn hair, stubble-lined jaw, large hands, broad shoulders. You felt your eyes widen when you first laid eyes on him, and now you'd been throbbing thinking about what those thick fingers could do other than plumbing.

You pull your robe tighter around yourself, hoping to subtly accentuate the outline of your body. "Thank you so much, really, I don't know what I'd have done without the sink."

"Probably used the dishwasher a lot more," he cracked dryly, and your previous words suddenly feel stupid, but it only serves to make him hotter.

"How should I pay you?" You stride over to him. "Cash?"

"You can just pay online." He looks tired, but he has a well-meaning smile on his face.

You look a little incredulous. "Really? I can't—do you accept tips? Seriously, top notch work and super quick. I can't not thank you."

"I'm really not supposed to take tips," he drawls, running a hand through his hair. You find yourself biting your lip; you can't look away from him. You must look like a rabid animal right now, but you can't help it.

He doesn't tear his eyes away from yours.

"I mean, unless..."

Those three words are what find you on your back in your bedroom with your robe thrown open, the sweet and efficient plumber named Sakunosuke standing at the edge as he impales you on his cock. He worked you open with those fingers first, fast and harsh, just how you begged him to, but nothing could've prepared your weeping hole for the stretch of his fat dick—and now he's pounding into you, his hands clutching your waist as you hold your legs open for him to thrust deeper, deeper.

“Oh, shit. Unh—so wet—“

His groans come from his chest, deliciously—he looks a little like he knows he shouldn't be doing this, but your cunt is sucking him in like it was what he was supposed to come here for all along. You spasm and clench around him and he throws his head back, your whole body rippling as his strong hips and heavy balls smack lewdly against your ass with each thrust.

“Mmph—fuck—break that sink of yours more often, alright?” ⊹

⊹ ANGO SAKAGUCHI—I JOINED THE MILE HIGH CLUB (EXTREMELY RISKY)!

The man you met in the airport bar—oh, he’s pretty.

He's even prettier in your mind when the pilot announces phone permissions now that you're in the air, and the first notification your phone receieves is from him.

I have an open seat next to me in first class. Come visit.

You don't hesitate for a moment. You stride forward from the economy section, past the flight attendants who protest at you flimsily to search for his seat number—you see his unmistakably gorgeous hair, his glasses, his sharp side profile as he speaks to an attendant, catches you in his peripheral, and then shoos her away.

There's hardly niceties before one of your legs is slung over his knee and he kisses you with fervor. You don't think too hard about the people around you—none of whom can actually see you but without a doubt will know exactly what's happening in a few minutes—as you grind down onto his thigh, bite his lips, draw soft gasps from him when your knee nudges his bulge.

Before you know it, his cock is free and he slides your underwear to the side so you can sink onto him; he groans shamelessly when your wet heat envelops him completely, causing heads to turn in your direction, but you just brace your knees against the airplane seat and your hands on his shoulders make quick work of milking him of everything he has.

He kisses you, hot, heavy; he smells good, he smells expensive, and you tear his dress shirt open to rake your nails down his chest as he grabs your hips, letting his head fall back and a full-bodied moan into the cramped air of the plane as he does so. You lift up to let him thrust, let lewd smacks resonate throughout first class, and with your chest in his face he rides your shirt up to latch his teeth to one of your nipples; you echo him, moaning unabashedly, running your hands through your hair, gripping him as people look on.

"Fuuuck, yeah, feels so good," he praises from beneath you. "Knew I had to fuck you from the second I saw you." His eyebrows draw up in concentration as he looks down at where your bodies meet and continues fucking up into you hard. "Hah—listen to that cunt cry for me. You like being watched, huh? Gonna let me fuck you 'til the plane smells like sex? Huh?"

You nod, messily, desperately, and he quickens his pace ever faster, pulling you back down into a sloppy kiss.

An attendant awkwardly approaches in the aisle, but the gorgeous man who's destroying your insides just holds up a palm, shoos her away again.

"Fuck—so sexy. Keep takin' this dick." ⊹

⊹ NIKOLAI GOGOL—LUCKY INTRUDER GETS TO FUCK HORNY VICTIM!

You're splayed out on your bed, two fingers stuffed deep in your cunt—and he's just surprised you didn't hear him breaking the lock on your front door.

When you meet his eyes, you're so glazed over with pleasure that you barely miss a beat, your gaze only blowing wide when he peers around your bedroom doorway. His snowy white hair, his sharp features—you can't find the sense to be alarmed at this unfamiliar man, the one holding your laptop and—is that your wallet?

Doesn't matter—they're clattering to the ground, another factor here you can't find it in yourself to care about as his gray eyes are locked onto you fucking yourself open on your sheets. The sheen of sweat that covers your skin, your desperate moans as you grind your clit against your palm, the obscene squelching that comes from your wet cunt—they all serve to propel him over to you, prompt him to dig his already-hard cock out of his pants as you just watch, beg him with your stare to come fill you up. You're so lucky he's here, really—you look like you're struggling to get deep enough with your pathetic little fingers; he guesses it's only fair that he repay you for the material goods he's about to rob you of and pawn off on whatever sucker will buy them for cash, right?

"Right? I'll help you out—" He gives his cock a few pumps as he positions himself between your legs, "—looks like you need it, sweetheart."

You can only bite your lip to supress the moan that leaves you as he enters your cunt and lifts your fingers up and out of you by your wrist to swirl his tongue around them, lick them clean. He's huge—even your third and fourth fingers weren't enough to prepare you properly for the burglar’s dick in your needy pussy, so you let out strained combinations of gasps and screams when he starts to drill into you mercilessly. You can't help the way your ankles link behind his back, the way you reach for him—and he smiles wickedly when your eyes roll back.

"You like having a stranger's cock deep in your guts, huh?" he speaks between deep sighs and grunts. You can only babble your incoherent agreement, your laptop and wallet forgotten, the actions of this man forgotten, everything but how desperately you need to squirt all over him forgotten—you reach down and rub your clit, play with your nipples as your mouth is frozen open as you moan, moan for this man who's just broken into your home. "Uh—yeah, you're gonna like takin' all my cum, too, I bet." ⊹

⊹ SIGMA—MASSEUR HELPS HIS SEXY CLIENT RELIEVE STRESS!

"Oh, yeah—right there," you groan softly as the heel of his palm meets the center of your back. You've been looking forward to this full-body massage the whole week, and this man was not disappointing.

He works his way down your back, twisting knots out as he goes—his lithe fingers feel like heaven against you, overworked from hours at your desk hunched over your computer.

But it's a full-body massage, as mentioned before; when his fingers dig into the plush of your asscheeks, you can't help the groan that leaves you.

"That okay?" he inquires; you think you hear a shake in his voice.

"More than okay," you reply, thinking you could fall asleep as he works you into relaxation. You could close your eyes from how good it feels, or you could peek behind you and see his face burning with blush at your sounds. You do the former, but smirk a little at how sweet it is of him to check in.

He checks in again when his hands are inching your underwear down, and you tell him of course, he's the professional.

He's still the professional when he climbs up on the table behind you and buries his flushed face into your cunt. You arch up and back, crooning, as his hands stay massaging you, spreading you apart, kneading your ass with career expertise and plunging his tongue into you with enthusiasm.

"Oh! Oh—feels good," you breathe, grinding back into his face, onto his nose. He laps at you happily, this masseur you've barely looked upon for a total of twenty seconds, but you can't lie to yourself and say you didn't think he was pretty when he led you back to his room; he hums into you, sending you shivering, twitching. "Please, more."

"Mhm," he mumbles, releasing one of your asscheeks to lay back beneath you and insert a long, thin finger into your pussy; you sigh, you settle onto his face, and his tongue speeds up in this new position in a way that rips a high moan from your lungs.

Not hunched, but arched, the stretch feels heavenly on your back in combination with the way he pumps another finger into you; you graciously sit up, throwing your head back, begging, pleading for more until his tongue settles into a tight back-and-forth rhythm over your clit. "Please, please, please—"

You grind against his nose, your moans become more erratic, and you dig a hand into his hair as your hips move in dizzying circles over his head.

"Cum for me?" he asks, muffled by your pussy; you'll ride him until his face is soaked. ⊹

⊹ FYODOR DOSTOEVSKY—CONFESSING MY SINS ENDS IN HUGE CUMSHOT ALL OVER MY FACE!

“And I’ve been terribly, terribly lustful, Father Fyodor,” you say with regret. “It consumes me. I really never used to be like this."

"Temptation lurks everywhere," the priest sympathizes. You can barely see him through the grate, but his soft, forgiving voice sounds close to you. "The Devil and his army are constantly exploiting our vulnerabilities to try and turn us to sin, but worry not, child of Christ; we're human. I'm here to guide you. Continue."

You shift on the wooden seat in the booth, crossing your hands tighter over your lap. "That's really all. It's been very concerning to me. I think about it... I think about it so much."

"About what?" Father Fyodor prompts, and you bristle even more at being asked to elaborate.

"Sex," it barely comes out as more than a whisper. "I can't help it—it's everywhere. It leaves me feeling so... exhausted and frustrated, and the only thing that helps is... Well..."

But you're met with silence. You know he wants you to go on. You're here to confess, after all.

"...touching myself. I do it at least once a day. It's like a burning within me—nothing helps but—but—cumming all over my fingers." Your voice is laced with shame—the throbbing of your cunt as you talk makes you feel all the more guilty, and you can only imagine how he's shaking his head. "That's all. That's all."

"You'll do penance," he says, comfortingly. "When we bring our sins to the Lord and repent he cleanses us of them."

The grate pops out of the window, and you see the the waist of his alb as he speaks his next words.

"You'll take communion, now—" the cinctures around his waist fall undone beneath his hands, and the alb is hiked up to reveal a leaking cock, pretty and pale and bobbing in the air of the confessional. "—and be saved from the flames of perdition.”

"Yes, Father, please. Anything to be saved." But your mouth waters in a way that you know has little to do with your thirst for salvation.

"Take this; eat. This is my body," he recites the scripture as his length reaches through the window; your hands, eager and already on the threshold, accept him willingly. As you wrap your mouth around him, he groans, and it's like seraphim singing their holy, holy, holy.

"That's it—child of God, follower of Christ; I absolve you of your sins," he gasps as his tip hits the back of your throat which was begging for forgiveness moments ago. His hands reach through the window to stroke either side of your face, and then hold you in place to fuck your throat. "The Lord will forgive you for this." ⊹

12K notes · View notes

mostly-imagines · 3 months ago

Text

Careless Accidents

jason todd x fem!reader

aka you get hurt and jason’s pissed

warnings: reader’s wrist is accidentally sprained from being grabbed to hard

You could hear scuttling from somewhere else in the garden, an estate more than sizable enough than the game afoot.

You were under the distinct impression though that the bats and birds are playing with you similar to how they would a child. Slower, weaker, and less experienced than the big kids. You weren't complaining though. Because, frankly, it was stressful. They tend to operate more like they’re in a warzone than a game, you felt like you were about to be sniped out at any second.

Rightfully so, apparently, seeing how silently Stephanie had crept up on you.

“Hey,” Stephanie hissed, ignoring the way you jumped. “We’re doing alright for ourselves,” she said smugly.

“Yeah,” you’d nodded, like you agreed with her more than you probably did.

“Okay listen, I think the flag—” what flag? “—is by the fountain so, I think because there’s three of us and two of them, we should bait-and-switch.”

“We’re on teams?” you asked, no longer completely sure you know what you’re playing.

“We are now!” she smiled, starting to run. “I’ll bait!”

She stopped briefly in her tracks and turned back to you hissing, “Don’t trust Cass,” before scurrying away.

Rather than sit around and wait there for…something?...to happen, you jumped up darting in the opposite direction with little to no indication whether this is a good move.

What you didn’t see is Cass rapidly approaching from your rear.

What you also didn’t see was Dick crouched down in a row of shrubbery, which gave him the perfect opportunity to snatch your arm up and yank you down with him. You’d mewled a bit as your wrist made contact harshly with the grass, immediately buckling under you.

Cass was keen to your pain immediately, slowing her sprint to a stroll as she observed you.

“Are you okay?” she signs.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good.”

The response was instinctual and you didn’t actually have time to register whether or not you were okay by the time you gave it.

You pushed up on your elbows, trying to figure out whether Dick is even on your team, but the way the others approached had you halting consideration. They’re savvy to the situation at a speed in which you can only attribute to their vigilantism, looking at you with concern.

“You good?” Tim asked, approaching languidly.

“That looked like it hurt,” Cass commented, crouching down next to you to see your wrist better.

Dick shook his head, “No, she’s okay.” He turned to you, prodding, “You’re okay.”

“Yeah, I’m, um…” you winced, looking at your wrist. “It hurts a little.”

Cass examined it closely, tilting it gently to the side. “It might be sprained.”

Dick paled.

“No.”

Tim pointed a thumb back towards the manor, “We can get it wrapped upstairs.”

“No.”

You were only then able to clock the barely contained grin on Stephanie’s face, begging to break.

“Ooooh. He’s gonna kill you.”

Cass had then kindly offered to take you inside and wrap it up for you, which you accepted, unexpecting of the plus-one of Dick trailing behind you like a guilty puppy all the while.

“You know I didn’t mean to grab you that hard right? I—”

Cass laughs quietly as she wraps the bandage around your wrist, amused by Dick’s now-third explanation/apology for the incident.

“I know, Dick,” you say, trying to appease him.

“I’m sorry,” he tells you genuinely, but you can tell there’s more there that he isn’t verbalizing.

You nod, “I know, Dick. It’s okay. It was just an accident.”

Cass pins the wrapping in place securely and with a smile, signs to you that she’s all done.

You rotate your arm a bit, testing your movement under the wrap. As Cass leaves with the first aid kit, Dick remains sat at your side, leg thumping up and down.

He takes a deep breath, “What if…what if you avoid him until it heals?”

“Dick.”

He takes your uninjured hand in his with urgency in his eyes,

He looks down at your jointed hands before loosening his already mild grip significantly.

“Are you going to tell him?” he asks, looking like he’s bracing for bad news.

You shake your head sympathetically, “No. I can’t guarantee you that he won’t find out, but I won’t tell him.”

Dick takes a deep breath, looking at the ground with intense focus. “Okay. Okay.” He stands, “I need to go.”

You watch in amused bewilderment as he staggers out the door, looking around frantically.

Within the next few minutes, he creates and enacts his plan A. He walks into the living room, sitting down next to a very disinterested Tim, eyes forward and serious.

“I’ll give you two grand right now if you tell him it was you.”

Tim barks out, “Absolutely not.” He looks at his brother, still laughing. “No fucking way.”

Dick breaks the serious facade immediately, looking at him. “Five.”

A deadpan from Tim.

“You don’t have five thousand dollars.”

Dick throws his head back, back thudding against the couch. “Dude, please! He’ll kill me!”

Tim scoffs, “He’d kill me!”

Dick huffs, “No, it’s different for me! Do you have any idea how many times he told me not to do that?”

“Well then it sounds like you fucked up,” Tim sneers.

“Oh my God.”

He takes off again, combing through different rooms in the house with hope of finding a quick but effective hiding place for, say, the next twenty years?

He bursts through the study, unwittingly interrupting Bruce and Alfred having a discussion over tea.

The latter sits up with a tense brow, “Master Dick?”

The former turns around in his seat, “What’s the matter?”

Dick struggles for a second before confessing, “I accidentally sprained someone's wrist.”

Bruce scans his face slowly, nodding. “Alright…you’ll have to take responsibility for their patrol duties—”

Dick cuts him off with a sharp breath, “Said person doesn’t have any patrol duties to be affected...”

Bruce processes for a moment before shaking his head.

“I can’t help you.”

Dick’s panic takes over again, prompting him to continue his scurry through the room, towards the other door.

Alfred interrupts his process with a very logical argument, “You don’t think running away will make this worse, Master Dick?”

“I—I don’t know!” Dick whines, stopping in his tracks. “I don’t know what to do!”

Bruce purses his lips, gesturing, “Dick, when you make a mistake…you have to submit to the consequences, you know that.”

Dick gapes, “This is not a normal consequence!”

Meanwhile, you’ve busied yourself with fiddling with the knick knacks and mementos lining the shelves of Jason’s childhood bedroom.

You’re admiring a picture of him and Alfred from when he was young as the door creaks open behind you.

“Sweetheart?” Your boyfriend calls out, head barely poked in through the crack.

“Hey, Jay,” you smile, setting the picture frame back on the shelf.

He enters fully, covered in motor oil and grease, and smiles his sweet, easy smile when he sees you.

Moving onto the next trinket on the shelf, you pick up a stuffed animal placed intentionally at the front. Your gaze finds the mirror, watching his reflection as he pulls the stained shirt off his back.

You smile to yourself, noticing the way his back muscles flex as he adjusts. “How’s the bike?”

“Better than it was this morning,” he sighs. “Where’ve you been?”

He turns around to look at you, taking easy steps towards you.

You return the toy elephant to its place, moving to face him. “Uh, we were outside, playing…at least three separate games at once.”

The second you’re in proximity, your hands join like it’s second nature.

He nods, all too familiar with the family’s unique methods of gamefair.

“Did th—” He looks down at your intertwined hands, brow furrowing as soon as he spots the bandage wrapped around your wrist. “What happened?”

You glance down, shrugging. “Overexerted myself playing tag.”

He looks at you skeptically, but says nothing about it.

He turns your hand over gently, asking, “Is it sprained?”

You nod, relaxed. “Yeah. Cass said it’s mild.”

“Does it still hurt?”

“No,” you say, sweeping his hair back with your other hand. “Barely hurt then.”

He nods, but he doesn’t look satisfied with the conversation.

Regardless, he turns away again, shuffling through a drawer for a clean shirt.

“You, uh, you wanna stay for dinner tonight?” he asks, pulling his arms through, his head following.

“Yeah,” you say gaily. “Alfred said he’s making his ‘special spaghetti’, apparently it’s a household favorite?”

He wavers, halfway to between decisions. “Yeah…”

He huffs quietly, turning back to face you fully. “Can I see it?”

You nod, happy to ease his mind.

You start to unwrap the bandaging, him doing half the work for you. The work is done silently until your wrist is exposed, revealing your bruised skin.

You both see it at the same time—the hand-shaped bruise wrapped around your wrist.

You’re both quiet for a second—him putting pieces together and you waiting for the shoe to drop.

He takes off suddenly, clearly having come to a likely very accurate conclusion about what had happened.

“Fucking idiot—”

You try for his hand but he’s out of reach before you can grab it.

“I’ll be right back,” he grumbles behind him.

“Jason—” you sigh, “At least help me wrap it back up first.”

He hesitates, halfway to the door, ultimately returning to you in defeat. He takes your forearm gently, scanning it over again before beginning to wrap it.

You watch his face closely, noting the clear vexation. “It was just an accident,” you tell him.

He scoffs, “It better have been.”

You drop your shoulders and lull your head to the side. “Jason. I’m not made of glass, you can’t expect other people to act like it.”

“I don’t. I expect him to mind his own strength, and if he can’t do that, he needs to keep his fucking hands to himself.”

You sigh, “Just don’t do anything harsh. Please. I think he’s worried you’re gonna punch him.”

“He should be,” he says shortly. He finishes off the wrapping, pinning it in place firmly.

You grab onto his forearm before he can pull away, “You’re not going to. Right?”

He doesn’t answer so you try to make his gaze meet yours, “Right?”

His eyes roll, “Yeah, fine.”

You smile, holding his face. “I love you.”

He huffs as though he’s inconvenienced, but confesses the obvious truth nonetheless. “I love you.”

He looks you in the eye, face serious. “You promise me it doesn’t hurt?”

“I promise,” you nod, brushing your fingers against his palm.

“Dick!”

The angry voice bellows through the tall halls of the manor, heavy footsteps thudding.

He stomps into the living room, Tim, Cass, and Stephanie watching the entryway with wide eyes.

“Where is he?”

Unwitting shoulders shrug and heads shake. Truthfully, at that. Dick, smartly, did not tell anyone where he was hiding.

Jason scans the trios faces, looking for any sign of apprehension.

He clocks the grin shamelessly plastered across his sister's face quickly. “Stephanie?”

“I don’t know,” she says honestly. “But let me know when you find him, I wanna see—”

But Jason’s moving onto the next room before she can get the last words out.

He enters the dining room, looking right to left before finding his target, halfway to stuffing himself behind the fine china cabinet in the corner.

There’s a brief, tense moment in between where the pair realize what they’re seeing and when Dick sets off in a sprint towards the kitchen, Jason quick on his tail.

“Really? Really?” Jason shouts.

“It was an accident! It was a fucking—”

He narrowly dodges a swipe from Jason, then ducking before a ladle could make contact with his head.

“Are you stupid? Are you the dumbest motherf—”

Dick rounds the kitchen island as fast as possible, Jason testing him on the other side.

Dick takes a breath, “Dude, it’s fine now, it’s not that big of a—”

Jason recoils, “‘It’s not a big deal’? Come here. Let me sprain your wrist, asshole!”

He circles the counter quicker than the elder boy can think to move away and lunges at him.

Dick throws his hands up in front of him, “Wait, wait, wait! Truce! Truce! Truce?”

Jason drops his shoulders, leveling his older brother with a look. “You can’t call a truce if you’re the only one who did anything wrong.”

“I…” It doesn’t take him long to piece together that his defense makes no sense, so he resorts to his last option.

“Please?” Dick asks, nothing short of imploring.

Jason relents—slightly—upon hearing his brother's tone, but still finds it in him to shove him, though not nearly as hard as he’d been planning to.

“I told you a hundred fucking times not to grab her so hard—”

Dick nods heavily, waving a hand. “I know, I know—”

“Clearly you fucking don’t!” Jason shouts. He huffs, running a hand over his face. “You sprained her wrist. You’ve been doing this vigilante shit for fifteen years, how do you still not fucking know how to control your own strength?”

Dick grimaces, “I do! I do, I just screwed up, I’m sorry!”

“Don’t—” Jason narrowly holds back a scowl, “Did you apologize to her?”

“Yeah, of course I did!”

For a split second, Jason looks ready to keep arguing before purposefully dropping the anger from his body.

The resulting relief almost drowns Dick.

It only lasts a moment though, before Jason looks at him again, sneering, “Idiot,” before pushing him once more.

“Jason.”

Your voice has Jason dropping all turbulence in an instant. He and Dick both whip their heads towards the door, equally unexpecting of the interruption.

You tilt your head at your boyfriend with a knowing but disappointed stare.

He looks back at you like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar, lips parted.

“I didn’t hit him.”

⭐️ your options are: (1) reblog fics or (2) be a little bitch ⭐️

8K notes · View notes