#silly silly fic

[ambernotember]

a little meddling could go a long way

a very silly episode coda for 9-1-1 8x11 and Doctor Odyssey 1x11

read on ao3

“Sergeant Grant,” Tommy grinned at her as he hopped down from the helicopter. “We have got to stop meeting like this.” “Firefighter Pilot Kinard, thanks for the assist,” Athena said. “If I never see another boat it will be too damn soon.”

or read below the cut

“Sergeant Grant,” Tommy grinned at her as he hopped down from the helicopter. “We have got to stop meeting like this.”

“Firefighter Pilot Kinard, thanks for the assist,” Athena said. “If I never see another boat it will be too damn soon.”

Tommy laughed. “Let’s get you all loaded up and out of here then. I assume you’re Daphne, our VIP?” She nodded and he guided her over to the helicopter. “You’ll be in the back with our aeromedic, and you’re our first stop.” He helped her up, and his partner got her situated. “And next to our FBI guides, we’ll have you two.” Between the two FBI guys, they quickly got Bonnie and Clyde seated as well.

“Sergeant, can I offer you the front seat?” He gave her a jaunty little bow as she climbed in, before he slid in after her. Once Daphne and Athena had been given headsets, and the criminals had ear protection on, they took off.

“Welcome to Kinard Air,” Tommy said over the headsets. “Our first stop is the hospital in approximately two hours. We don’t have in flight entertainment, but you’re welcome to watch the ocean waves out the windows.”

Daphne laughed, audible even though she hadn’t turned on her microphone, loud and bright.

“So Daphne, what are your plans once you’re healed up and out of the hospital?” Athena asked over the headsets. The aeromedic showed Daphne how to use hers to respond.

“Oh Sergeant Grant, I have no idea,” Daphne laughed again. “Dance all night, drive through the wilderness, swim in the ocean. Just celebrate, you know? Do the things I've been putting off, or thought I couldn't do anymore.”

“That sounds lovely,” Athena said. “But if I can make a suggestion? No more cruises. They’re not worth the trouble.”

Tommy privately thought Athena Grant might be the only person who could out deadpan him. He let the conversation fade into the background as he focused on flying, keeping an eye on the time and his nav system.

“Have you seen the new photos of it? Tommy?”

Tommy realized Athena was talking to him. “Sorry?”

“Has Buck shown you the new photos of the house? The kitchen counters just got installed.”

Tommy realized abruptly that Athena thought he and Evan were still together. “Uh, no, I haven't seen them,” he said. They still had an hour to go, and other people were on the comms, so it seemed like the easiest answer.

“Hmm,” Athena said. “Maybe Bobby forgot to send them.”

“Are you renovating?” Daphne asked.

“Building, actually. Rebuilding, I guess,” Athena mused.

“Rebuilding?”

“There was a fire,” Athena said. Tommy knew she was leaving out a lot of details about how and why the fire had started - Evan had told him about it. “We looked for a new place but nothing felt right. So we decided to build something new where the old house had been.”

“Wow. Did you get to design it?” Daphne asked.

“Actually my ex-husband did. He’s an architect.”

“And you’re still close? Wait, sorry, is that prying?”

“Nothing else to do,” Athena said. “We are close. We’ll always be family, and we have two kids together. He and his husband live in Florida now. We got divorced about, 7 years ago now? Almost 8. Then I met Bobby, my husband. Well, we had met before that, on the job — he's a firefighter. That's how I know Tommy here, actually, they used to work together.” Athena smiled at him then continued her story. “We were together a little less than a year when we got married. Part of what I love about him is how much he loves my family. He never tried to take over the dad role but he’s always been there for my kids. And he and Michael — that’s my ex — are close.”

She paused. “Sorry, that was probably a lot information that you were expecting.”

“I mean, like you said, not much else to do,” Daphne said.

“Do you have anyone at home Daphne?” Athena asked.

Daphne laughed again, but it was sad this time. “No. When I got sick — well, I didn’t want to put anyone else through that. It seemed easier to be alone.”

“It can be,” Athena agreed. “The thing I’ve learned as a first responder though, is that none of us are guaranteed tomorrow. If there’s something that makes you happy, someone you love, it’s worth the risk.”

Tommy glanced at her out of his peripheral, but she seemed focused on the view out the windshield.

“And that’s how you feel about Bobby?”

“It is.”

“That’s so romantic,” Daphne sighed.

“Don’t get me wrong, it’s been a lot of hard work too. We almost broke up twice,” Athena confided. “I didn’t want to be seen dating after the divorce and he thought I was embarrassed of him. And then I asked him to move in with me before he was ready.”

“Really?” Tommy surprised himself by asking. “You two have always seemed so solid.”

“Now, yes. But it took us a while to get there.” Athena turned around slightly to see Daphne. “The new romance shine is easy to find. It’s what comes after that that people don’t talk about. It’s a lot of hard work to learn to communicate with each other and trust each other. And it doesn’t stop.”

“It doesn’t?” Daphne asked.

“No, it does not. Bobby and I actually fought about the house design — I wanted to rebuild exactly as it had been, but Bobby pointed out that really, that had been mine and Michael's home. If we were building something, it should be mine and his, even if it was on the same piece of land as the old house.”

“You two sound like a romcom come to life,” Daphne said.

It was Athena’s turn to laugh. “Only because I’ve left out a lot of details. Sometimes it’s a horror show. But I can get through it because I know he’s there for me.”

Tommy swallowed around a surprisingly large lump in his throat.

Athena pulled out her phone to read a text message. “Slight change of plans, folks,” she said over the comms. “Pick up for Bonnie and Clyde will be at the hospital as well, no need for a second stop.”

“Copy that,” Tommy said, relaying the information to Harbour.

“I’m just going to let Bobby know,” Athena murmured as she typed out a text. “Do you want him to pass the message along to Buck as well?”

“Oh, I have to go back to Harbour anyways,” Tommy deflected. “No worries.”

Athena and the FBI agents spent the last part of the flight coordinating with their team on the ground, and Tommy and his aeromedic kept the hospital apprised of their progress.

Daphne was the first person off the helicopter, the medical team whisking her away to surgery for her transplant. Tommy hopped out for a quick stretch while the LAPD and FBI dealt with Bonnie and Clyde. He was surprised when Athena rounded the helicopter and pulled him down into a hug.

“Thank you for getting me home safe again,” she said. “Housewarming as soon as the tools are cleaned up - we’ll see you there.”

“Uh, I’ll see how my schedule works out.”

“We’ll see you there,” she repeated. “And hopefully never again on a boat.”

Tommy laughed despite himself. “I’ll do my best to avoid it,” he said. He waited until everyone had cleared the helipad, then got back into the helicopter to head back to Harbour, trying to put Athena’s comments out of his mind.

“Thank you for picking me up,” Athena said as she got into the truck. “I could have just had one of the uniforms get me.”

Bobby held out his hand for hers and threaded their fingers together. “And miss out on another second of seeing you? Absolutely not.” He lifted their joined hands and kissed the back of her hand, squeezing tightly. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t with you.”

“It had to be a boat,” Athena said. “You’ll never believe who my ride back was.”

Bobby looked at her in askance.

“Tommy Kinard.”

“That must have been an awkward flight,” Bobby said flatly.

“Actually there was a lovely patient named Daphne on the flight, we had a great time. And don’t talk about Tommy like that,” she chided her husband. “Have you seen him since the breakup?”

“No.”

“Well, that is not a happy man. Regardless of Buck saying Tommy broke up with him,” and he had, many times, and it was the reason Athena’s kitchen was overflowing with baked goods, “he’s clearly hurting.”

“What did you do?”

“Let’s just say there’s an aeromedic and two FBI agents that know a lot about our relationship now.”

“You meddled? You?” Bobby raised an eyebrow at her. “You hate getting involved in other people’s relationships.”

“It was the happiest I’d seen either of them,” Athena shrugged. “Sometimes people just need a little nudge. If it works, maybe they talk and we finally have an end to the baked goods. Or he doesn’t do anything about it and we have to buy a chest freezer for the new house for Buck’s baking.”

Tommy landed at Harbour, refuelling his bird and finishing his paperwork before the exhaustion of the day could overtake him.

When it was done, he took out his phone and sent a text message.

Can we talk? Maybe on Saturday?

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[everwalldigan]

Hear me out: Robin Dick would be the biggest Bruceman supporter and shipper.

This boy hates any of Bruce’s love interest with a passion because then his dad guardian spends less time with him and that’s obviously UNACCEPTABLE, SCANDALOUS even, so when rumours start circulating that Bruce Wayne is in a relationship with the Batman, he jumps right on the wagon.

Reporter, thirsty for a story: Mr Grayson what do you think about the rumours that Bruce Wayne is dating the Batman?

Dick: What do I think about my dads you mean? My very married very taken dads? My very faithful to each other plural dads?

He would fuel the rumours both as Robin and as Dick Grayson, punching criminals for talking bad about Wayne enterprises as Robin (“THAT’S MY STEPDADS COMPANY YOURE TALKING ABOUT!”). He would be on online forums all day talking about how Bruceman is the only Batman ship that makes sense and Doxxing people who disagree.

Bruce is so exasperated because this is happening at a time where only Alfred and Dick know his real identity so he can’t even do anything with ANYONE without making either Bruce Wayne or Batman look unfaithful.

Throw Reporter Clark Kent into the mix who has been sent to scope out the Bruceman story, who Bruce makes the mistake of flirting with at a gala. Both Clark AND dick are scandalised.

Dick, making a scene: HOW COULD YOU! BATMAN IS WAITING FOR YOU AT HOME AND YOURE HERE FLIRTING WITH SOME… SOME REPORTER??

Bruce, sighing: Dick-

Dick, tugging on Bruce’s suit and looking up at him with fake tears in his eyes: Dad, are you and dad getting a divorce? :(

Clark, panicking: NO NO THEYRE NOT GETTING A DIVORCE PLEASE DONT CRY

Meanwhile:

Bruce, crying in the corner: he called me dad

He would even go as far as insisting that Robin is his step sibling

Principal: how do you explain that whenever Robin is injured, Dick fails to show up at school the next day?

Dick: Robin and I are twins :) so when he’s injured I’m injured too and we have to stay home together!!

Bruce, whispering: I’m sorry, they’re not really twins but neither I or Bats have the heart to tell hem

[umamaki]

Caleb who is just so fucking big that he has trouble physically fitting into your life. He’s as buff as he is tall, and as hot as it makes him, it’s becoming an inconvenience to you both. Good luck having him over if you own anything less than a king bed. Despite the amount of times his weight alone has split the bedframe, you still haven’t upgraded your sleeping situation. Even laying on his side he’s taking up more than half your mattress. You will typically lay on top of him, but even that gets uncomfortable after a while. Especially after he’s just fucked you to oblivion, assuredly leaving your entire lower half sore for the next day or three. You’ll wake up in the morning somehow underneath him, being suffocated from his huge biceps having unknowingly wrapping themselves around your small frame. Not to mention that his shoulders alone practically measure the width of your shower. He’s just too big. You don’t even entertain the idea of shower sex at your apartment. The glass panes let you watch him struggle to bend down to just get his head under the showerhead, and you feel like some sort of voyer watching him. It’s perverted, it’s creepy. Yet it’s extremely arousing, the way he barely fits into a shower you use so comfortably. And all you can do is watch him and wait until he comes out to finally satisfy your heat.

[capricornlevi]

nanami x reader - w.c 3k, marraige of convenience, mentions of societal pressure but everything is consensual!, nsfw, mdni!

without even meeting him, you agreed to marry nanami kento without any expectations of future love, romantic or otherwise.

the pairing is advantageous for the both of you; you get access to the impressive nanami family fortune that has grown substantially now that kento is managing it, while he gets to enjoy a close association with your prestigious family and the subsequent educational opportunities that your children will benefit from. it's sensible and by far the best option you'd been presented with.

you've exchanged letters with him, polite and concise. you can read between the lines and see that he shares a disillusioned view of jujutsu society, but is more than willing to step up for the good of his family.

you weren't coerced by anyone. far from it -- your mother and father had sat you down and asked if you were sure, that they would understand if you wanted to take more time or to choose a different path for yourself altogether.

but you know the rest of society would not be so kind or understanding. marriage between two sorcerers, as antiquated as it seems, is how you survive amongst all of these competitive, power-hungry families.

from what you've read and heard about him, nanami will provide stability. he's progressive in his thinking, and so wont expect anything from you that he wouldn't be willing to do as well. you've learned that he's a teacher at tokyo tech, and has received glowing reviews; he'll be a good father.

and so on this misty thursday morning, you lay eyes on your fiancé for the first time as he slips a ring on your finger and promises to stay by your side forever.

the ceremony is as bare-bones as your reputation will allow. the guest list doesn't hit the triple digits, a huge departure from society norms, but representatives from the major houses sit in floral-clad wooden chairs to watch you repeat the words that the officiant speaks in your direction.

nanami takes your hands in his. they're warm, which is nice. this dress isn't designed for November weather, but it's an heirloom -- and truthfully, you're glad to be wearing it. you'd never given much thought to a wedding, but it makes your mother and grandmother very happy.

you'd be lying if you said you weren't relieved to discover how handsome nanami is. you were previously shown a few polaroids of him -- staff pictures, mostly, but some with the rest of his family -- and had known he wasn't bad-looking, but the pictures weren't clear enough to give you a proper understanding of his looks.

his blond hair is styled neatly, not a hair out of place. he has nice features, strong jawline and cheekbones, and soft eyes, a good combination. you know his gaze can be piercing when he wants it to be, but now, he looks at you gently.

you know you made the right decision.

more vows, a kiss, and you're married.

___

the reception goes mercifully smoothly. the mix of guests -- powerful sorcerer family heads, rich businesspeople, and just a few of your personal friends -- didn't appear to gel too well on paper, but they mostly stick to their own factions. you greet them all until your vocal cords grow tired.

a meal is served on plates so ornate it makes you feel awkward eating off them. you nurse a glass of wine for most of the evening and nanami does the same, politely waving off the servers who approach to refill his glass.

a promising sign that he doesn't feel the need to drown his sorrows. this is a marriage of convenience, yes, but you'd like to be able to get along reasonably well with your spouse.

and, to his credit, he's been making light conversation with you all evening. he doesn't dip into deep or uncomfortable topics like your marriage or future plans, figuring that's best saved for later, but he asks you questions about yourself. by the end of the evening, you feel safe enough to allude to your desire for a future somewhat outside society's norms -- "I've always wanted to travel, honestly. maybe ... spend a few years abroad" -- and, to your pleasant surprise, he doesn't rebuff them. if anything, he seems somewhat pleased.

you have another glass of wine and before you know it, it's the early hours of the morning. you're nowhere near tipsy but feel ready for bed, ready to wipe off this makeup and slip into something more comfortable; thankfully, guests have started to slip out one by one, with only immediate family remaining.

your unpleasant and friendless older cousin makes a joke about you needing to say your goodbyes to 'go please your husband', and nanami's face sours for the first time all evening. your cousin notices and sheepishly takes a drink, mumbling something about it being his time to leave too.

with some final hugs to your respective families, it's time to leave with ...

... with your husband.

in his last letter before the wedding, nanami agreed that your city-centre apartment would be the best place to live in the first few weeks of your marriage, until you find somewhere more permanent that suits you both, and so that's where you go.

you show him around each room, including some storage space where his luggage had been delivered this morning. interspersed with some more small talk, you explain that although it's small, it's well placed for both of you to get to work. he smiles and nods, thanking you with a warmth that doesn't feel forced.

you offer him some tea or whiskey; he says he's fine.

you yawn. he loosens his tie, clearly exhausted himself.

the last room you show him is your bedroom, and it becomes harder and harder not to address the elephant in the room. there's very clearly no second bed, no room for him to stay that wouldn't necessitate a lot of closeness between the two of you.

the silence hangs heavy and loaded, both of you waiting for the other to speak.

well. this is one issue you hadn't covered before the ceremony.

you have no issue with a sexual relationship -- in fact, you're somewhat looking forward to it, having spent the evening admiring the way nanami's shirt hugs his strong arms and chest. but you're not sure if tonight, the first night you've ever met, is the best night to start.

sure, the concept of the wedding night speaks for itself, but it's not as black-and-white in your situation. he might want to spend some time settling in, first. he might not even be that interested in you.

"want me to take the couch?" he asks quietly, with no hint of resentment or offence in his voice. he makes the offer with a sincerity you haven't heard from a man in a long time.

you don't break your silence, but not because you're uncomfortable or anything of the sort -- you're just assessing your options.

"there's nothing i expect from you, just so you know," he continues, and you turn your head to face him, seeing his eyes scan your face for any sign of unease. "the last thing i want is for you to do ... this ... out of obligation or pressure. we have a lifetime to get to know each other, to reach that point -- i want you to be comfortable around me."

your upbringing has made you a sceptic, a pessimist at times, but for some reason, you believe him. maybe it's the look in his eyes, or the fact that he's taken your hand in his own, interlocking your fingers, but there's something about him that sets him aside from normal sorcerers.

he seems real. he seems as though, powers and fortunes and family names aside, he has some substance about him.

"do you want to?" you ask then, voice almost inaudible quiet from a day spent conversing with guests at your wedding.

he doesn't hear you, so he dips his head in your direction; you repeat yourself and wait, hoping you hadn't pressed the issue.

his composure doesn't crack, but something flashes in his eyes as he processes your question. he has such control over the movements of his features, over every expression in his body, except for his eyes, you think.

maybe you just happen to be good at reading him.

he mulls it over for a second, his grip on your hand never slacking.

"i want to," he finally admits. "i've wanted to for a while, truthfully. I've spent a lot of late nights picturing how it would feel to be inside you, to hear what my name sounds like when you say it. but i only want that if you want it too."

you smile without meaning to. "you imagined that from just reading a few letters?"

"yes, and it's a testament to my trust in my new wife that I'm telling you that," he replies, still polite but tinged with amusement.

it feels strange standing at your bedroom doorway, hand in hand with this almost-stranger, imagining what it would be like to indulge in these thoughts you've both been having, spending your first night together tangled up in the sheets and allowing some of the indulgence you've long denied yourself.

duty gets tiring. for a long time, you've been unsure what it feels like to genuinely want something.

now, you're pretty sure it feels something like this. it's organic and unforced, a natural desire that sends heat curling in the pit of your stomach.

wordlessly, you guide nanami into your room, closing the door behind you. there's a hint of a smile on his lips as you ask him for help to untie your wedding dress, the intricate pattern of buttons trailing up your spine proving too technical for your own hands. he's methodical in his work, careful to not damage the delicate clasps.

soon your dress is loose around your hips, your chest covered by the thin slip you wore underneath. you set the garment carefully aside before returning the favour and starting to undo nanami's shirt, avoiding eye contact as your hands expose more and more of his bare chest.

you want to do this, you know that for sure, but that doesn't mean you won't feel a bit of awkwardness at the start. you're not well practiced, having had too busy a life for romantic relationships until now. you hope that instinct will kick in sooner than later, but you've no doubt nanami will help you along the way.

when you finally build up the nerve to glance up at him as he shrugs off the shirt, he's looking at you as though you're the only person he ever wants touching him.

you hear the soft clink of metal and realise he's undoing his belt.

"are you sure?" he asks one more time.

that one question, and the earnestness with which he speaks, erases the last shred of doubt you had. you place your trust in him for the second time today.

you nod and reach across to his belt in the same breath, helping him pull it free from the loops to be tossed by the armchair near your desk.

you move as though controlled by something other than yourself, the decisions coming so naturally it feels as though you've been imagining it for weeks as well.

and maybe you have, you think to yourself, as you confidently guide him back slowly until he's sitting down on the plush armchair, his suit pants still on as you crawl onto his lap, pressing your chest against his. the thin fabric of your slip means you can feel the heat of his body against your skin, nipples hardening as they graze against his muscles.

you've just about balanced yourself, carefully perched on his lap when you feel his hand on the nape of your neck, pulling you in for a kiss that has you grinding against his thighs before you can even catch your breath.

you've never been kissed like this. the few kisses you've had before have been with partners who see you as a means to an end, be it for your family name, your reputation, or just for sex. you've never been kissed by someone who seems to get more from your pleasure than from his own.

you now know he meant it when he said he's been picturing this.

you kiss him for as long as you can, and you're not sure if it's for seconds, minutes, hours. you kiss him until there's a heat burning between your thighs you can no longer stand, that you need to have satiated by the visible, prominent bulge in the front of his suit pants.

when you finally break away, lips numb and kiss-slick, nanami's hair is touselled - you don't remember running your hands through them, but you must have at some point - and he reaches up to run his fingers under the straps of your slip, asking with his eyes if he can guide them off your shoulders.

you nod, and your chest is exposed to the cool night air for a split second before nanami's mouth is on one of your nipples, tongue circling the sensitive skin and making you cry out.

one of the words you moan must be his name, because you feel him smile as he turns his attention towards the other nipple, hands now at the small of your back to keep you close to him.

you can't take it much longer. you need to be touched so badly, you didn't even think you were capable of wanting it this much -- and you only want him to do it, now and maybe forever.

maybe he can read your mind or maybe you babbled out the request, but nanami finally takes pity on you, giving your nipple one final lick before resting his shoulders back against the cushion of the armrest and sliding his hands up your thighs, hooking your underwear with his fingers -- you lift your hips up to let him slip them off.

his composure slips further when he finally touches you between your legs, feeling how wet you've gotten for him, seeing how you react when he slips his index finger inside.

your head falls back and you hold a breath, focusing all of your attention on the sensation of him inside you, on the way he curls the digit ever-so-slightly before pulling it out and fucking you with two this time, almost -- almost -- tipping you over the edge.

"such a pretty wife," he mumbles almost under his breath, voice and gaze reverent as he watches you rock yourself against his hand. "my beautiful, perfect wife, aren't you?"

you want to answer him but can't, lungs feeling near-empty as you fumble with the buttons of his pants.

"i will never be able to think of anything else but you, i think," he muses, half-smiling. "you in my lap ... you making those pretty little noises ... i might be a ruined man, you know. and I'm glad of it."

he only stops speaking when you finally get your hand on his clothed cock, his breath catching in his throat as you trace it with your fingers.

you want tonight, the first of many times together, to start with you cumming on your husband's cock.

nanami just watches as you finally pull him out of his underwear, his length thick and hard in your hand as you give it a few messy strokes. it's all the both of you can manage before you need to have it inside you -- you shift your hips to sit on it, nanami's eyes fixed on the site of the head slipping inside.

it's a stretch, as you expected, but one you've been craving since you closed the bedroom door. you take him inch by inch, lowering yourself down as his breath quickens, clearly battling the urge to thrust up inside you.

but he's careful with you, and doesn't want to hurt you. his wife.

you lift yourself up too much and his cock slips out, slapping aginst his stomach and you nearly cry at the sudden emptiness, eager and clumsy as you guide him back inside you.

he kisses you when you sink down next, tongue massaging your own until the feeling of almost-too-full turns to a perfect, satisfying heat in your core.

eventually you're ready to quicken the pace, bouncing on his cock before long, your mind working too fast for you to keep up as you see nanami's cheekbones flush pink, his pupils dark as you ride him until your thighs ache.

you power through the sensation, nanami helping you along by meeting your hips with his, his thumb tracing uneven circles on your puffy clit. he calls you perfect and other beautiful words; you don't say anything besides more, more and, soon after, nearly there, nearly there, please, please, I'm so close --

your entire body lights up with the most wonderful sensation, hitting you like a wave and sweeping you away in its warm glow, with nanami's hands now on your hips, guiding your movements in exactly the way you need it -- not too hard, not too slow, not too fast.

you're still pulsing around him when you feel his body stiffen, his strong thighs tensing as he groans through gritted teeth. he pulls you in for a crushing kiss as he finishes, filling you up and thrusting as deep as he can until oversensitivity takes over.

the afterglow has you a contented and exhausted mess, muscles aching but satisfied in a way you'll spend forever seeking.

reluctantly, you slip off his cock to retake your place on his lap, marvelling at how undone you both have become, a far cry from your perfect wedding appearance.

you look perfect to him, though, you know as much from the kiss he presses to your sweaty forehead and the way his arm wraps around your shoulders.

"we didn't even make it to the bed," you observe, eyebrows raising as you finally return to your own body. "i ... wasn't expecting that."

"we have a lifetime to spend in bed," he replies, a smile in his voice.

and once again, for reasons you still don't understand, you believe him.

[dragonbonez]

He adopted him after that.

[sunsburns]

imagine asking wade if he still likes you when he’s literally inside you LMAOOO I just know he’d be so flabbergasted

i know a normal people fan when i see one (18+, fluff)

but jokes aside, and dicks inside, wade would likely get whiplash; his head turning so fast he can hear a crack in his neck, staring at you like you're crazy because just seconds ago you'd been running your gentle hands over his skin. your fingers brush against the divots of his scarred skin, your cheek pressed to his chest, humming softly, close enough that your lashes tickle whenever you blink.

wade's a little out of breath, sticky with sweat, and miraculously, rendered speechless. to others, a rarity, but with you, while still rare, is more frequent, especially after sex.

sure, he drops a joke or two, but there is a window where wade likes to sit there, holding you, skin against skin, in silence; listening to the sounds of your shaky breaths as you come down from your high, the sounds of the bedsheets ruffling with slow movements from the both of you, even the sounds of the old crackly fan on his ceiling.

and so, in that small window of silence, the two of you lay there in a warm embrace, listening to each other's heartbeats as wade's dick slowly softens inside you.

but then that small window starts to close, the silence breaking with you. you shift, turning to press your chin against wade's chest while looking up at him, "hey," you whisper, a smile growing against your lips.

"hi," he whispers back to you, but he continues to stare at the window, watching the soft light of the rising sun peeking in through the white lace curtains you picked out, a part of you in the dingy apartment he shared with blind al.

"we've officially gone at it all night. fucking like rabbits. and i can't believe i'm saying this but, i'm fucking spent. i might need a few weeks to recover. i asked for a bone and you threw a whole skeleton at me, peanut."

you snort, rolling your eyes, "yeah, right."

"okay, fine, a week is too long." wade hums, he finds your hair and runs his hand over it, twirling a strand around his finger, "i'll be good as new by tonight or at least by the time you scroll to read another fic of me, of course."

you're still staring at him, and wade, ever the observant, notices. he shifts, sits up, holds onto your waist, and brings you up with him. you have to bite your tongue to hold back a moan, sensitive to the way he's touching you, the way his dick keeps you full.

wade raises his brows (or at least, where his brows would be), "what? is there something on my face? i know i'm ugly but i thought we were past that. your staring is making me a little self conscious, sweetbuns."

"wade?"

"yes, cupcake?"

"do you like me?"

"what-?" he stares at you, eyes wide and nearly popping out of his head. "do i- what? what the fuck kind of stupid ass fuck ass question is that? you think i don't like you? we literally fucked all night. literally did every position in the book. i let you peg me! you might be the only person on earth that matches my freak-"

"yeah, i know but-"

"bitch, i'm literally still inside you."

that's when you can't help but laugh, grinning against his neck when he wraps his arms around you and pulls you closer. you love the way his body emits warmth, and you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him even closer like you want to live inside his skin.

wade holds you, his cheek pressing against the top of your head. and he groans loudly when you say, "you never answered my question."

"oh my god," he huffs dramatically, "of course i fucking like you. like no shit."

"okay, great. i was just making sure."

[tiredofsatansbullshit]

WHAT DO I DO NOW??

[bones-of-a-rabbit]

idiots to idiots in love with an even bigger idiot

[whalesharkstho]

these fucking guys….

[majunju]

cold

[cursedyuri]

so, your best friend accidentally sent you a video of her masturbating. what now?

18+ below! smut smut smut!

ellie’s bedroom is heavy with the scent of sex, her fingers still pruned from her own wetness. she’s spent the last few minutes tense and panicked, too paralyzed with anxiety to get up and put some clothes on, and she’s considering what she’ll change her name to and where she’ll move to start a new life when you finally, finally text her back.

it’s okay. give me a second to reply, alright?

the weight on her chest eases a bit at your reassurance, but a new spark of uncertainty flares up at the second part of the message: give me a second to reply. jaw tight, she sends you a question mark, then follows up with you don’t have to respond. it’s probably better if you don’t?? again i’m so fucking sorry.

but as the minutes tick by, slow and lazed, she starts to panic again. her mind conjures every possible response you could send her next: an angry thesis statement on why ellie’s a disgusting pervert, a seething comment about how stupid she must be for sending a video like that so carelessly. would you ever look at her the same way? would things ever be the same?

all it takes is another notification from you to make every imagined worst-case scenario evaporate. ellie clicks the notification as soon as it pops up, chewing on the soft flesh of her inner lip.

it’s a video.

you sent her a video.

she hits the play button without a second thought, heartbeat thudding in her ears.

“i know you’re probably embarrassed,” you say, head tilting as you frown with sympathy. a blush paints ellie’s cheeks bright red. “but i need you to know how wet that made me.”

holding the camera up, you extend your arm outwards to reveal the rest of your body - your naked body, ellie realizes with a shock. she sits up in bed, back ramrod straight, her phone shaking as a nervous tremor strikes through her. but she can’t look away - not when you’re tracing a hand down the soft curves of your body, fingertips grazing over one peaked nipple, then moving lower, lower. ellie swears she’s forgotten how to breathe.

you release a pleased hum. “i liked watching you touch yourself,” you say, so matter-of-fact. “i hope you like watching me.”

and she does, god she does. she settles back down onto the mattress, eyes never leaving the screen as you work two fingers through your soaked folds. you moan and sigh and keen, rolling your hips down against your own hand, the wet sounds of your pussy so intoxicating, ellie can’t believe she’s gone her whole life without seeing you like this.

and it might be wrong, the way her own hand drifts between her legs to find herself still hot and wet, but she doesn’t have it in herself to care. she dips a finger inside of herself as she watches you ride your own hand, grinding down on your palm as your fingers work in and out of your cunt. she finds a rhythm that matches your own; soon enough, you’re both gasping at the pleasure building beneath your waistline. with every roll of your hips, ellie’s cunt tightens, flooding with slickness - as if she could get any wetter.

as you get closer to the edge, your grip on your phone falters and the camera starts to shake. ellie hisses and curses under her breath when your phone captures the blissed-out look on your face: eyes rolled back, brows pulled together, teeth sinking into your lower lip.

“oh - oh my god,” you stutter, panting, “i’m gonna come, ellie.”

ellie. ellie ellie ellie.

“holy fuck.” ellie’s pussy clamps down around her fingers at the sound of her name on your lips; her thumb glides over her clit just right, and she didn’t think she’d come this fast but she does, her vision exploding into blinding white as her orgasm crashes into her. it’s the only time she looks away from the video on her screen - but she certainly hears your orgasm, all high-pitched moans and ragged breaths, your cunt gushing onto your fingers.

when ellie finds the strength to open her eyes again, the video is still playing. you’re catching your breath, chest shimmering with a thin layer of sweat. you look at the camera and smile. ellie thinks she might pass out.

“thanks for the video,” you say, lifting your free hand up to wave.

when you bring your fingers to your mouth and purse your lips around them, sucking them clean of your own come, ellie’s sure she’s going to pass out.

and then, she decides, she’s going to fuck you stupid.

[dindjarindiaries]

Clueless

character: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian)

prompts: “Are you flirting with me?” “Have been for years, but thanks for noticing.”

main masterlist • prompt masterlist

You tapped around the usual controls you could reach from the chair behind Din's as the cockpit of the Razor Crest groaned to life around you. "How's the hyperdrive looking?"

Din kept moving his gloved hands along the main console as he answered. "It's online." He gave his helmet a quick tilt as he pushed one more button above his head. "For now."

Din exhaled a heavy breath and wrapped his hands around the joysticks, giving them a squeeze before he maneuvered the gunship off the ground. The breath you let out was one of relief; the two of you had certainly been trapped on worse planets before, but you were glad to see the sight of it fading below you.

"Glad you're confident in your work." You failed to hide your growing smile as you relaxed and let Din take care of the rest.

"This isn't a confidence problem." Din spared a look at you over his shoulder before he lifted his hands to grasp the hyperspace levers. "The Crest just manages to surprise me from time to time."

With that, Din pulled back, and the stars stretched out before you. They then burst into the familiar plethora of blue and white swirling lights, beginning yet another long journey through hyperspace.

Hopefully one that you wouldn't get forcefully pulled out of. Again.

But you were still stuck on what Din had said: This isn't a confidence problem. That drew a pleased hum from you, one that you didn't bother to keep hidden from him. It wasn't like he'd get it, anyway. Not if he hadn't the other countless times you'd done it.

"I like that."

Din, now leaning back in his chair, swiveled in his seat to face you. His helmet was tilted in genuine confusion. "Like what?"

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes as you instead gestured to him with your chin. "The confidence."

Din shrugged. "Comes from experience."

You smirked and kept your arms crossed over your chest. "I'd like to see what kind of experience."

Din didn't move, but his tone spelled out all the confusion you likely would have seen on his face if it wasn't covered by his helmet. "Was getting pulled out of hyperspace hours ago not enough experience for you?"

That time, you really did let yourself roll your eyes as you laughed and stood to your feet. Honestly, the tally of your advances versus Din's own cluelessness was getting difficult to keep track of. "Fair point."

You stepped over to Din and set a hand on his armored shoulder.

"It's been a long day. I'd say it's time for some beauty sleep, but you've already got the first part covered." You gave his pauldron a squeeze and turned around. "And no, rest isn't an option this time."

You could only get a few steps away, however, when you suddenly heard Din stand up behind you. "Wait."

You froze in place and looked at him over your shoulder, lifting your brow as you awaited him to retaliate with some kind of meaningless yet humorous joke.

Instead, you saw him nervously shifting his weight between his feet. Even his gloved hands were pulling tight into fists before he asked a question you never thought you'd hear.

"Are you flirting with me?"

As surprised as you were to hear the words, you didn't miss a beat with your response. "Have been for years, but thanks for noticing." You flashed him a wink and started walking forward again, letting your sudden adrenaline carry you. "See you in a few hours."

You had only just started to cross the cockpit's threshold when Din found his voice again. "What?"

You laughed to yourself but didn't stop your stride as you stepped over the ladder towards the storage space you had claimed as your own private bunk. The door slid open for you, but before it could close, something—or someone—stood in the way.

"Hold on."

Din sounded out of breath, and when you turned around, you saw him leaning against the metal material of the storage room's threshold. His body was still rigid, the same way it looked when he was preparing to leap into battle.

"You can't just... after you..." Din gestured absently behind himself, to the open cockpit.

You sighed and crossed your arms over your chest again as you fully faced him. "I know this incredibly obvious revelation is somehow news to you, but it's not to me, and I'd really like to get some sleep."

Din just shook his helmet in pure disbelief. His modulated voice was lower than usual when he spoke again. "All this time?"

You huffed and looked down at your boots. "What did you think I was doing?"

Din's tone with thick with embarrassment. "Being nice."

You laughed again. You couldn't help it. "Of course you did." You reached forward and tapped your knuckles against his helmet. "Your skull must be as thick as your beskar."

You stood back where you were before and watched Din carefully. His visor was focused on the floor, and his gloved fingertips were fluttering thoughtfully on the hand he had propped up by his head.

You closed your eyes and sighed. His cluelessness was even worse than you thought it was.

"Listen, Din, you clearly need some rest. Just... go to sleep and we can talk about this later. Okay?"

Din's helmet snapped back up to you at that. "No. I'm sorry, let me just..."

He leaned off the threshold but continued to stand in it, keeping the door open for himself. His gloved hand palmed his helmet as his chest rose and fell with a frustrated breath.

"Kriff."

You chuckled and shook your head at him. "Din, it's really not that big of a deal."

Din stared at you before his armored shoulders deflated. "It isn't?"

You let out a softer breath as your chest squeezed. "I didn't mean..." Now you were the one palming your face. "Not like that. I just meant that I'm not offended or anything."

Din tilted his helmet. "Offended by what?"

You shrugged, too overcome by your newfound embarrassment to look at him as your stare returned to your boots. "You not reciprocating."

Din let out a sigh so heavy that you had no choice but to look up at him again. He had changed his position so that his hands were set on his hips as he shook his helmet.

"That's the thing." His visor found your gaze before he nodded. "I've been trying to."

Now, it was really your turn to be shocked. You blinked at him a few times as your heart somersaulted in your chest. All this time, you thought your flirting was just a vain effort to get the attention of a man who would never be open to you or what you had to offer. You were starting to wonder if you had somehow managed to miss something.

You found your voice, but it was only a squeak. "What?"

Din gestured with a gloved hand behind you. "I'm not good with words, so I tried to do things. Like helping you set up this room. And cleaning your weapons." The next part was a mumble you nearly missed. "And making you that blanket."

You whipped around, spotting the blanket—your favorite, by the way—that had just shown up one day on your makeshift bunk. You huffed in disbelief and turned back around to face him. "That was you?"

"Who else?"

It was Din's turn to laugh, though it was only a raspy chuckle for him. He even turned your own question back on you.

"What did you think I was doing?"

And your answer was nothing different. "Being nice."

Din let out the biggest sigh you'd ever heard from him, and you couldn't even blame him.

Oh, the irony of it all. Maybe you were actually the clueless one.

"So..." You clasped your hands behind your back and rocked on your heels. " What now?"

Din shrugged. "Hell if I know." He gestured with his helmet behind him. "I think I just proved I'm not the most qualified in this area."

You spared another glance at the blanket. "Clearly, I'm not much better."

Din looked off to the side the way he always did when he was planning something. After a few heartbeats, he nodded to himself and looked at you again. "I might have an idea."

You lifted your brow. "Yeah?"

Din nodded again. "We should switch."

"Switch what?"

Din shifted his weight and used his finger to gesture between the two of you. "Techniques?" The suggestion came out as a question. "I'll try words, and you try actions."

You hummed in consideration before ultimately nodding. "Okay, yeah. I like that idea." You smirked at him. "You first."

Din, for once in his life, stammered. "What? I—Well, I can't just..."

"You can." You took a step closer to him. "You have something to say to me. I know you do."

It was then that something overcame Din, and you could see it in the way his posture relaxed into something much more familiar and comfortable. His visor gave you a steady once-over as he took a smaller step closer to you.

"I have a lot of things I want to say to you."

You let yourself embrace the flustered feeling even as you let out an impressed whistle. "That was good, Djarin! You're learning." You gave his armored shoulder a pat.

Din gave his helmet a soft tilt. "Your turn."

You grinned, letting your hand fall from his shoulder to instead grasp his arm. You other hand rose to meet it, and gently, you pulled him further into the room, causing the door to slide shut behind him. Din looked back at it in surprise, but when he looked at you again, he didn't seem displeased.

"I'm offering you my bunk." You gestured back towards it. "Because I want you here, but also because I don't want you sleeping on that sorry excuse for a bed down in the hold anymore."

Din chuckled at that, the sound thick with both amusement and admiration as he nodded. "Fair enough."

You helped him get settled into the bunk with you, draping the blanket he had apparently made over both of you as the final touch. Your face was the closest it had ever been to his visor as you laid beside him. Surprisingly, he was the one to break the brief silence.

"This is a good start."

You smiled, humming once more before getting close enough to rest your face against his cowl. "I agree."

The gloved hand you felt on your back was enough evidence of the fact that he was just as comfortable, now, and not as clueless as you had thought him to be.

[milktrician]

(what the. who threw a wife plot device in the middle of a peak lord meeting)

i thought about this bit at the end of the airplane extras the other day. bro why are you looking at your coworkers like that rn

[strngedve]

We know Castiel is based on Cassiel the archangel but my favorite little headcanon is that he was the archangel Cassiel.

He was created as the angel of Saturday, patron of the vulernable and the overlooked, the angel of tears, angel of temperance.

But that was it, wasn't it? Castiel lacked temperance -- He could never be like the other angels, God hadn't created him to be a warrior like his brothers; Cassiel was a gift to humans, the angel of strife and duality, something so fundamental to humanity. The only angel who could really understand them. The angel who sat and watched, waiting to be called upon to deliver peace. Cassiel was God's love for humanity. How could God not know Cassiel would get too close, too involved with humankind? Maybe he did, but he could never know his own love would ever defy him. Maybe he could never know that whatever he burned with his divine love was also scorched with his divine wrath, enough of it to break ranks when he finally tired of watching Heaven play with the Earth.

So God punished him, bent him into the shape of a solider and named him the shield of God as a reminder of what his role had always been. But Cassiel was special, he would always be special, so he disguised Cas, protecting him from the persecution of the other angels. Maybe he even wipes it all from Cas' mind, gets rid of the memory of rebellion before Cas can hurt himself with it again.

And Castiel does it right this time. He stays just as detached as he needs to be, he protects only who he needs to protect, he does only what he is told to do. So God gives him another chance, another opportunity to prove himself with something big, the perfect task for his angel of the vulnerable.

Go fetch Dean Winchester.

What could go wrong?

[somerandomcockroach]

The first part of the fic "Mistakes on mistakes until" in a nutshell

[improvapocalyps]

You have 90 minutes to complete. (original poem: r.a.)

In participation of the MCYT Recursive Exchange 2024 hosted by @mcytrecursive!

Inspired by know that all my love will be your breath (i will save you when your lights go out)

[text under cut]

1. Have you ever been in love? (Please circle your answer.) a. It's me and him b. Our hearts beat in sync c. Our lives intertwined

2. Do you understand what you’ve done? (Please circle your answer.) a. I couldn't do anything b. I lost my balance c. I doomed us both

3. It's been god knows how long since you felt phantom hands on your neck and there is no one in sight. If you were soul-bound to him and both of you died at the same time then why are you still waiting in the void? Please answer clearly, in full sentences. (Not a correct answer：I just wanted to see him one more time).

4. Define two (2)： Fate | The feeling of his forehead against yours Curse | The moment you realise he isn't linked to you anymore

5. True or False： i. It was your fault. ii. You wish you had met him under different circumstances. iii. You can’t regret a single moment that you had him. iv. You would do it all over again if you could. v. It ended long before either of you said anything.

thumbnails:

sketch cover thing for imgur link: