#you take it away and you get relatively normal brothers

[lambmotifz]

most of the sexual aspect of wincest comes from gothic horror elements of kripke era AND from dean being controlling/obsessive/possessive towards sam

[thetriumphantpanda]

new religion | joel miller

Summary | Joel's never much been a religious man, but if he were, he'd ask the Lord what he'd ever done to deserve you.

Pairing | Jackson!Joel Miller x F!Reader

Word Count | 1.5k

Warnings | Explicit. Religious imagery, basically porn without plot, oral (f receiving), unprotected PiV sex, cumshot, dirty talk, Joel worshipping you like you deserve, nothing bad happens to him ever and he dies peacefully in his sleep at age 101, no use of y/n. Written and edited on phone so please excuse any mistakes.

Authors Note | God bless hbo for that teaser am I right? I just want Jackson Joel to always find peace. Also thanks to All Time Low and their song New Religion for the Inspo. I hope you enjoy!

Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi 

Divider by the ever wonderful @saradika

I found God and we found heaven, On the bedroom floor.

Joel Miller isn’t sure how he got here. Knees creaking and painful, a dull ache in his back that never goes away, and years behind him that have led him to right now.

Years of being closed off, scared to open up to anyone in case he failed them as well. Years of using his anger at himself to reign terror on others. Years with Tommy that were strained, years with Tess that were less so, even good sometimes, and now years with Ellie, good, bad and everything in between. The relative safety of Jackson was unsettling, after years of fighting to survive and barely making it, scars on his body testimony to that, the normality was unsettling.

He’s getting used to it though, slowly but surely, and he thinks that along with his brother and Ellie, it has something to do with you.

You, stood in front of him, backlit by the setting sun, nude and waiting, whilst he kneels in front of you. Pained be damned, he’s going to worship you like the goddess you are.

Tommy has spent the past year absolutely rinsing his older brother for this. When Joel and Ellie had arrived back, he’d made it his mission to set Joel up with one of the many fawning ladies available. There was Esther, who was nice enough, and Lindsey who had been far too forthcoming, and others that Joel would rather not remember, telling Tommy that he didn’t need anyone, didn’t want anyone, was more than happy on his own.

Then he’d met you, sunshine to his clouds, sharp, quick-witted and funny. A take-no-shit kind of gal that had gotten under his skin more than he cared to admit. The first few times it was quick, fumbles in the alley behind the tipsy bison, or hurried moments bent over the dusty couch at the lookout on patrol, convincing himself that once again this was nothing but stress relief.

Then things changed, you started making him laugh, started sitting on his porch with him, laying on his couch whilst he played his guitar, and then he started spreading you out on his bed, started taking his time, learning what made you respond best, how you liked it, how you clenched so tight around him when he clasped your fingers in his and pounded you into the mattress.

Joel has never been much of a religious man, not since the end of the world, but he thinks, right here on your bedroom floor, that he’s found God. When you walk towards him and run your hands through his greying hair, tilt his chin up so he’s looking at you, hands on your hips like you’re his altar.

He brings his face closer to you, tongue licking through your folds as you stand before him. Your fingers tighten in his hair when the tip of his tongue finds your clit, your own head tipping back, face to the real Lord if he exists, muttering his name over and over in your own twisted prayer.

His jeans are tightening as he licks at you, the sounds you make doing what they always do, shooting straight to his cock. It’s why he can’t quit this, even if in the back of his mind he knows he probably should. You’re younger than him, though not scandalously, and he can feel that the years of his prime are fading the more comfortable he gets here. He knows that wanting you as much as he does is a sin in itself, but walking away? That somehow seems worse to him. He finally wants to be selfish, to think of himself and his own happiness for once, and it’s the taste of you on his tongue when he drags it down to where you’re leaking for him that convinces him he has to stay.

“Oh, Joel,” You whimper, knees shaking, “Keep going.”

“Ain’t plannin’ on goin’ anywhere, pretty girl.” He groans into your pussy, his big hands holding your hips in place to keep you upright as his tongue drags back up from your fluttering hole to your clit.

You widen your stance a little, spreading the lips of your cunt for him so he can fuse his mouth over your clit, suckling at it whilst his tongue works against the swollen bud in the way that he knows will have you tipped over the edge in no time.

He loves when you come for him. A reminder that he’s still got it, that he can learn your ins and outs and keep you satisfied, even at his age. He has to press his fingers into your hips a little tighter when you do come for him, keeping you upright before you knees can buckle underneath you as you cry his name out into the darkening room. Pulling his mouth away from you before you start whimpering that it’s too much.

Normally he’d pull you over to the bed, but there’s something in him tonight that means he can’t wait the extra seconds, so he’s pulling you down onto the floor with him, cradling the back of your head with one of his hands so you don’t hit in on the wood as he crawls on top of you, legs spread wide for his thighs as he pops the buttons of his jeans and drags the zipper down.

He’s in too much of a rush to undress properly, pulling his jeans and underwear down just enough to free his cock. You’re reaching down, taking his length in your hand, dragging it up and down as he pulls his shirt over his head.

There are tiny droplets of sweat across your forehead, the open window and the breeze no match for the heat in the room, and he doesn’t know why he does it, but as he leans down, your hand guiding his cock to your soaked cunt, he lets his lips kiss across your forehead, like it’s holy water and he’s being reborn as he slips into your tight heat.

He doesn’t think he’s heard a sweeter sound than the ones he hears from you as he drags his cock in and out of your pussy. Gasps and whines and whimpers, never too loud, like they’re just for him. No-one else needs to know how good he makes you feel, just him. He presses his mouth to yours as he grips your wrists, pinning them to floor, swallowing your sounds as he fucks you.

Joel knows that it takes him a little longer these days, knows from the way you’re squirming that the ache in your hips is setting in. He knows that your body aches the same as his does, that your back aches and your knees hurt after a long patrol, but you’re being so good for him.

“Such a good girl,” He coos into your ear, “Y’can take it, can’t you?”

You arch your body up into him at his praise, “It’s so good,” You moan, your hands reaching behind him to sink your nails into the meat of his ass, “Harder, please.”

He can never deny you, so he pushes himself up, takes your knees in his hands and presses them down towards your chest, hooking his arms there to keep you spread open as he guides his cock back into you. He can feel his own sweat appearing across his skin as he does exactly what you asked for, he fucks you harder, as hard as he can, listening to the squeals you make as he bottoms out inside you and the slapping of his skin against yours.

“M’close,” He moans at you, “M’gonna come, baby.”

“Please,” You groan back, squirming underneath him, “Come for me Joel, please.”

And he does, pulling out at the very last minute, letting go of your legs to pump his cock with his fist before he comes, splashing his spend across your belly as he tips his head back and praises the Lord for you.

He knows he will pay for it tomorrow, but he collapses onto the floor next to you, pulling you into his chest. He can feel the sticky cum mixing with the hair across his stomach, but he doesn’t much care, pressing a kiss to your forehead as you settle together on the cool ground. His fingers trail up and down your spine as you lie together in the quiet of the early evening, finding peace with it all for once. After years and years of being on his own, of being scared to open up and let someone in, he finds he doesn’t much mind the thought of it anymore.

And above all, whether he makes it to the real thing or not when his time is up, that he’s found heaven, right here on your bedroom floor.

[demonic0angel]

Dead Silent Ship Prompt: The Bat boys decide to do the normal male relative thing and warn Danny off of hurting Cass. Cass immediately shows up to scare them into stopping. Danny, of course, is oblivious to all of this.

(It got kinda long lmao)

"Hey."

Danny turned, looking up at the four Wayne sons that were surrounding him. Jason had his arms crossed, emphasizing his biceps, while Tim frowned, Dick had his hands on his hips, and Damian held a sheathed sword in his hands. All four of them looked grim and serious.

"Hello," Danny said, perking up. "What's up?"

"You know that we love our sister a lot, right?" Dick said.

Danny nodded. "Yes. I'm glad she has such good brothers like you guys. I'm pretty jealous of it."

After all, his brother was an alternate universe version of himself who hated his guts and all humanity (with the exception of their sisters). Danny also wanted a brother who he could hang with, but it was great that Cass got such good brothers.

He wondered why they were talking about her now, though?

Dick faltered. Jason and Tim grimaced.

"Well, you also know that she's our only sister. So that means that we care for her a lot, and as her brothers, we have to protect her," Jason said.

Danny nodded again. "Yeah, I get that. I want to protect my sisters too. That's a pretty admirable trait!"

Jason paused and then looked at Tim. Tim then said, "Well, Cass is a good person. In fact, she's the best. In fact, I can almost say that she deserves a whole lot better than you."

It seemed as though he was about to continue, but Danny couldn't help but agree. "I know right? She's amazing. I'm so lucky to have her as a girlfriend."

Tim frowned and they all looked at each other with unreadable looks. It almost looked confused?

Danny blinked. Was he not supposed to say something? Maybe he shouldn't have interrupted.

Damian hesitated, looking at Dick for reassurance before he turned to Danny with a glare, pulling out his sword. His blade glinted as it made a sharp sound after being unsheathed. “If my sister gets hurt, be sure to remember that I will be the one to clean up the filth.”

Oh, would Damian be cleaning up the blood or something? Well, Danny didn’t need the extra help, he was already pretty good with it, but if Cass was hurt in this hypothetical scenario, then it would be good if he had an extra pair of hands to take care of other matters while he soothed her.

“Thanks!” Danny said, smiling warmly.

Now all four of them exchanged baffled and dismayed looks.

Danny also wanted to join in. He was starting to feel like they weren’t on the same page for some reason.

The window opened and Cass slipped inside, her expression set in a glare with a light pink on her cheeks, like she was pleased but also displeased. She scowled at her brothers, while their expressions changed into something guilty.

Danny blinked as another invisible conversation started between them all. He was beginning to think that there was something going on that he didn’t understand.

“What did they say to you?” Cass asked, much later when she had unfortunately driven her brothers away.

Danny looked at her, blinking.

“Honestly? I’m not really sure.”

[idesofrevolution]

Quality Time

*PING* Rocco looked down and smiles. He'd been wondering what Carlo and their father had been up to for the past week. Ever since their mother left a couple of years back, their father had been relatively distant- choosing to spend his hours away from the office at the gym instead of at home with his sons. To be fair, Rocco had left the house at 18, and now at 24 he wasn't home as often as he'd hoped. Nonetheless, it took both boys by shock when their relatively distant father decided to take a month off of work to spend some "quality time" with his sons. Carlo got the first two weeks, and Rocco would have the second. What they were in for, their father wouldn't say.

Hey, Roc. Dad wants us all to meet up tonight. We're at the gym on Broad Street, meet us there in 30 minutes.

The text was odd, definitely different than the normally chipper tone his brother is known for having. There wasn't even a single emoji... Rocco had hoped that everything would go well, but from the curtness of Carlo's message, it wasn't looking good. He sighed, walking his lanky ass over to the closet and throwing on some clothes, wasting no time making the 20 minute walk down to Broad street. The dim neon glow of the Planet Jacked sign illuminated the front of the strip mall; at 9PM on a Wednesday, the gym was the only business open compared to the vacant suites and GameStop next door.

Rocco pulled open the door, pulling out his phone to text Carlo that he'd arrived. The response was immediate:

In the kettlebell room. Hurry up.

Something did feel off, but Rocco had dismissed it as an irritated Carlo trying to pawn their gruff and macho dad off on him. Neither were "manly men" by their father's standards, not that he'd ever treated them poorly by any means. It just meant that they had little to nigh in common with eachother, and little to build a very "buddy buddy" relationship on. But, at least he was making an effort.

Rocco made his way through the gym floor, weaving through benches and weight machines to the double glass doors that houses the calisthenics room. He pushed open the door, and walked inside. Right off the bat, his suspicions that something was off were proven to be justified as he saw his brother flexing in the mirror. Or at least, he thought it was his brother. The man had Carlo's likeness: his short stature, his green eyes, the black and green headphones... but this was not his brother.

Carlo was easily 100 lbs of muscle heavier than when he'd left with their father on Monday morning. His hair was buzzed short, his formerly friendly face now scowled an aggressive smoulder, his arms and legs were bursting with hard muscle. Compared to the 5'2" skinny 19 year old Rocco had known, this man might as well have been a stranger.

"Get my bag over there, gotta shower and change." His voice was harsh, gruff... as if he'd smoked eight cigars before working out. He remained flexing in the mirror, as Rocco stood there gobsmacked. His eyes quickly shifted from his physique to his brother standing perplexed at the door. "You gonna sit and stare or are we gonna get going?" Rocco slowly walked over to Carlo's gym bag, picking it up and straining to shlep it over his shoulder. "Jesus, Roc. We've got to get you into the gym. C'mon, let's go." Carlo turned and walked out of the room, with Rocco hastening to meet his pace.

"Uh, Carlo... Did you... take something? I mean, I'm not accusing you of anything, but how did you..."

"Get this fuckin' jacked? Dad helped out a bit." Outside of Rocco's eyesight, Carlo smirked devilishly. He sneered, hocking a mouthful of spit onto the garbage can. Rocco nearly dropped the bag and bolted. This couldn't be the sweet, naive little brother he'd grown up with. If anything, he was acting more like their father than himself. As they entered the locker room, Carlo stopped at the mirror again, pinching his chin as if he were checking himself out in the mirror. "Yeah, Dad was saying he wanted me to try some pussy this week, and that girls liked a guy with guns. Heh, it worked." He flexed his massive arms, the putrid scent of heavy unwashed musk wafted from his pits as he did. Rocco pinched his nose, dropping the gym bag onto the bench.

"Since when have you been interested in girls?" Rocco spoke with genuine concern in his voice. Carlo had been an out and proud gay man for years now. Their father never understood it, but it never really bothered him any. To him, as long as his sons were 'getting some' then all was well. But this, combined with Carlo's inflated ego and body...

"Since I felt like it. Thought I'd give breedin' a try. After six girls this week, I'm tuckered out." Carlo sauntered toward the shower stalls, tossing his hat and headphones to his brother before turning to face him. "Dad will be here in a minute, just wait here." With that, he walked into the stall, and Rocco could hear the water starting to flow. He fell backward onto the bench, awestruck. Turning to the bag, Rocco imagined vials and vials of steroids and testosterone hiding within. It was the only logical explanation. Taking a deep breath, he slowly unzipped the bag, and ripped the top open to reveal:

Nothing. Carlos' normal street clothes, albeit a bit stretched out now, and an empty shaker bottle. No drugs, no syringes, nothing incriminating whatsoever. Whatever had happened to him, it wasn't due to roid rage.

"NNNNUGUUHHHH" Carlo's voice echoed in the empty locker room over the sound of the showerhead. Rocco stood up quickly, darting toward the shower stalls. Before he could ask if his brother was okay, the noises began. Wet noises- unaffiliated with the running shower. Rocco slowly crept closer, and the sounds had become clearer. Slimy schlorps and squelches combined with Carlo's moans of seeming pleasure. Was he fucking a pocket pussy? Surely not, he assumed, though in the back of his mind, the brother he'd seen was not the Carlo he knew. "uuuuuuUUUUUUUUUUUUUNNAGHHHHHH!" One final moan and a rubbery slurp, and the room was silent again.

Rocco quickly rushed to the end stall, ready to rip the white curtain open, only for it to open on it's own: revealing the hulking figure of his father. The shock was palpable, as thick as the steam in the air. His father towered above him, as he always did, a massive slab of hard meat with a face. Sweat dripped from every part of his hulking body, and his face was already plastered with a surprised expression. As if he weren't expecting Rocco to see him yet.

"Dad... Is Carlo oka..." Suddenly, in the corner of his eye, he saw his brother slumped over on the shower seat, passed out under the hot streams of water: still in the shorts and running shoes he'd been wearing moments ago. His muscled body could barely bend at the waist, so his limp torso sat at a slight angle to the rest of his body. Rocco turned to his father, whose expression hadn't yet changed.

"I said I'd be there in a minute, Roc." The limber young man tried to rush to his passed out brother, only for the iron grip of his father to stop him in his tracks. "He'll be fine. He'll wake up just the way you know him, with a couple of extra pounds. Don't you worry."

"Dad, what the fuck is going on?" Rocco shouted at his father, whose brows began to furrow. The hulking man grabbed the white curtain, shutting it behind his son. Slowly the look of shock turned to one of seriousness, and a twinge of nervousness shot down Rocco's spine.

"I'm on vacation, Roc. With my boy. And now it's your turn to spend some time with your old man." Rocco took a step back, confused and anxious. "You're what, 24 now? Let me tell you something, Roc. When you hit 50, it doesn't matter if you're the sexiest god damn man alive- women just don't look at you the same. They take one look at you and see a stacked old man. They look at you like you're disgusting, Roc. I just wanted things to be the way they used to, when I was your age." Another step backward, and Rocco felt himself pinned against the wall. "It doesn't hurt. Carlo said it felt damn good. He'll wake up feelin' like a million bucks and go right back to sticking that greasy pole into some man ass. Might even be better than before. But you..." His father leaned in against the wall, the wafting stench of his BO encircling the two. "You swing both ways. So will you do your pop a favor, Roc?" Rocco swallowed his spit, as his father leaned in until they stood inches from eacother, eye to eye.

"W... What kind of favor?"

"Let me be young again. Just for a couple weeks. I'll hop back in Carlo if things get out of hand, he's already said he's good with it. Let your old man take you for a spin, show you how I used to do it back in the day. Then at the end of the month, I hop right out. Deal?" His father stuck his hand out, waiting for him to accept this insane deal. Rocco turned to his brother, slowly coming back to consciousness.

"... One week. And if you don't fuck things up, I'll think about the other two." His father smiled as Rocco shook his hand in agreement.

"Turn around, boy. And just take some deep breaths." Rocco did as he was told, slowly turning around and placing his hand onto the brown tiled wall. He could hear Carlo coming to, and hearing the wet clap of his father's hands rubbing together. "Alright, boy. It's gonna be tight, deep breath!" Rocco took a slow inhale, feeling a strange tingling sensation as he felt his father's hands on his bony shoulderblades. As he exhaled, he could feel the calloused hands slowly sink into his back. "Ohhhh, fuck." His father's gravelly bass voice growled in the cavernous room, soaring above the wet schlorps of his huge arms slowly sinking deeper into his son. Rocco watched as his father's hands appeared beneath the skin of his arms, the outline of his fingers sliding down his biceps and forearms was quickly followed by the sounds of rubbery creaks as his father's considerable muscles slid into his own. Bones cracked and skin stretched as powerful biceps and firm forearms swelled with the invasion, as his father's hands slipped into his own like two tight gloves. His meaty fingers cracked under their own volition, as his father flexed his new triceps.

"Da... Dad? Oh fuck, Roc! It's your turn now, huh, bro?" Carlo's chipper voice cut through the wet sloshing as his father stepped forward, shoving his huge sweaty feet forward into Rocco's heels, immediately swelling to fit his size 14 boats. His father's ripe foot sweat started to pour from his soles while his calves started to sink in as well. "Feels great, right? I mean look at me? Dad promised a rockin' bod, and I mean, fuck! What guy is gonna turn me down now?" Rocco continued his deep breaths, trying to ignore his brother's bizarrely normal demeanor.

"Boy, you remember what your dad taught you. Take control, and fuck hard. They'll be beggin' for that cock." As the words left his father's mouth, he thrust his groin against Rocco's rear, letting his son's skin wrap around his thick ass as he slid his beer can dick into the sheath of his boy's- quickly swelling thick and musky as his balls grew into the size of clementines.

"Roc, just wait. Dad's gonna take good care of you. We're closer than ever, right pop?" His father's hard, hairy torso sank quickly into Rocco, his back expanding as his body fully enveloped his father up to their necks. Massive, juicy pecs and washboard abs pressed against his taut skin, and sputterings of the old man's hair started to sprout across his legs, arms, and chest. Rocco looked down at his massive body, no longer under his control, inflated with his father's stature. He could feel the scratchy scruff of the old man's beard against the nape of his neck.

"Alright, boy. Let me just slide..." He felt his father's nose press against the back of his head, and as it sank in, his vision became fuzzy. "Right..." His neck bulged and stretched, his jaw clenched and sharpened. "On..." His hair grew thick and messy, his eyebrows fuller and lower. As the last of his head was swallowed by the back of Rocco's head, a final crack of his neck and a slow exhale signaled that Rocco had already sank into the recesses of his mind. Facial hair sprouted across his chiseled jawline, as he smiled his pearly white teeth. "In." His father's gravelly tone now bellowed deep from within. He pushed himself off the wall, stretching his now 6'3" body, dripping in his old man's fragrant sweat. Turning to Carlo, he raised his eyebrow.

"Alright, boy. Let's go get some ass."

---

"Yeah, this is my brother's place, we'll be alone here. Don't you worry!" Carlo led the couple into Rocco's apartment, the boyfriend ogling his juicy ass as they walked inside. "Yeah, he's in the other room. This way." Carlo smiled as he threw his arm around the duo, the woman blushing as she turned to him.

"You sure he's down for this?" Carlo only smirked as he opened the door to the bedroom, revealing 'Rocco' in all his glory, swiping through the endless supply of thirsty messages on his Taimi. The couple's jaws dropped at the very sight of him, fresh from the gym, smelling of a locker room right after a basketball tournament.

"Oh wow... Uh, Hi there... I'm Victoria and this is Ollie..." 'Rocco' barely looked up from his phone, picking up his ripe gym shoe and socks, and tossing them to Ollie.

"Sniff, boy. When you're done with that, you can do the same for my brother." The boyfriend eagerly started to huff the stinking sock, moaning in pleasure as he did. "And you..." He put his phone down onto the table, turning to Victoria with a wry smirk. "Come show daddy some love."

[citricacidprince]

I wanted to ask if you can make a doodle of that drifting star gravity falls au but it’s relativity falls. Stan gets sucked into the portal and Dipper has to take care of him.

Took a hot second but I finally did it!!!

This family makes me wanna lose my mind I adore them so so much <333

(Sorry it’s a bit messy and clunky, my brain is fried atm lol)

Notes under cut!

I like to think that Dipper is oh so tired and is trying so hard to find a way to kill Bill so he can get back home to his sister as fast as he possibly can that he’s sooooo willing to aim guns at people. Like sure a laser gun works fine most of the time, but it’s soooo much easier to bring lead to a knife fight, ya know?

Stanley would think Dipper is so fucking cool and Dipper has to do a double take because no one has ever called him cool and meant it

Stanley is wearing a mini version of his homeless hoodie, as a treat :]

Mabel was inconsolably crying for a hot second after this all happened and Stanford was utterly pissed and in denial, weakly kicking her and hitting her with his little baby arms to bring his brother back

Mabel manages to reverse engineer the memory gun to erase the government agents minds, but unlike Dipper, who could’ve done it in 5 minutes tops, it takes her about an hour, so she tells Stanford about her brother Dipper and everything that happened while she does so

While doing this she asked Boyish Dan to block the door and gave him permission to beat up anyone who tried to get in, something the concussed teen was very happy to hear

They manage to buy time, and thankfully Mabel already knows how to open the portal again, but it’s gonna take a week or two maximum to get it fully running again

Stanford is still very very pissed, but it’s a silent and resigned anger aimed at Mabel. She lied to them all summer, she not who she said she was, she won’t stop apologizing when she looks at him now, how could he not be mad?

Besides it’s easier to be mad when the alternative is being so sad you feel nauseous over the fact your brother is missing, you have no clue if he’s okay or even alive, and every passing moment is making you regret trying to push him away all summer because you miss his stupid jokes and laughter and antics so bad it makes you steal all the blankets off his bed and praying to something, anything, that he’s going to be okay so you can just hug him one more time.

Mabel isn’t doing very well either. She completely locked down the Shack until she can bring Stanley and Dipper home. She told Dan and Anjelita that they didn’t have to come to work, something Anjelita gladly accepted, while Dan insisted that he could help. After all you expect him to go home and be normal about this later??? He got a concussion and punched an FBI agent so hard he passed out. He’s in this for the long haul.

I don’t want Stanley and Dipper stuck in that portal for longer than a week, because even if Mabel and Ford opening that portal again would cause Weirdmageddon they don’t care in the slightest, they just want their brothers to come home

[vervainandspritz]

DANCE WITH ME, SHELBY

Word count: 2,4k

Warnings: swearing, angst, fluff, Tommy is a silly goose, blood, injury

INTERACT WITH THE STORY PLEASE

***

How could it get that bad? That one sentence filled his head to the brim, causing a hellish headache. Staring at the ceiling in the small room in the back of the building, just a wall separating the frustrated man from the chaos in the Garrison. Blue eyes, usually sharp and focused, now glancing all around, internally looking for that one moment where he pushed her too far.

A race of thoughts caused an annoying gnawing at his insides, going back to all the situations he could have used to… speak up, but he didn't. His foolish ego wouldn't let him live that down.

The music was so loud he could hardly analyse, but he successfully brought in the sight of Y/N dancing in a Peaky boys’ arms.

If only he didn't ruin it back then, Thomas groaned. Running a hand through his hair, he set the cap on a table before returning to the main room.

Straightening his back and looking around, Tommy noticed his brothers dancing between all the drunk people, cheering happily and laughing obnoxiously, just like they always did when there was a reason to celebrate.

The Garrison wasn’t normally a place for song and dance, but after the victory at the races, Thomas made an exception for his men.

Winning races was a big thing in Birmingham, no matter whether the races were fixed or not. Nobody would dare to ask anyway.

Among other people sitting by the bar, he spotted her. The woman so unforgettable, that there wouldn't be a day when he wouldn't think of her.

The sound of the door slamming shut went unnoticed by the loud crowd as he made his way to the bar. Several chairs away from Y/n Thomas took his seat, letting out a quiet sigh as he grabbed the bottle of whiskey that Harry instinctively set on the counter in front of him. Pouring a generous amount he nodded towards Y/n, and the bartender immediately got the right idea, pouring her a glass as well.

Tommy planned on watching her reaction closely, but to his surprise she knocked it back without missing a beat, making him raise his eyebrows.

Harry nodded proudly seeing the same scene unfold, before turning around and serving other people.

Usually at least a couple of guests would line up to him by then, but Thomas’ horrendous mood was hanging in the air like a thundercloud, warning off anyone who would think of coming around. Taking advantage of the relative solitude he let his mind spiral down the familiar way.. again.

~~

“What happened!” Polly gasped, slamming the door shut behind her, seeing Thomas and Y/n make their way through the small living room. Blood dripped from the boy's nose, bloodying the already dirty carpet.

“I'll explain, I promise!” Y/N yelled from the bathroom before another slam of the door could be heard. Sitting him on the stool, Y/n tried to breathe steadily just to not start sobbing again. Her knees burned like hell, but she couldn't live down the way Tommy's face looked.

“I'm sorry” she said, shaking her head while reaching for a towel, and dipping it into the small amount of alcohol she had. Her hands were shaking, and so was her voice.

“Y/n” he said, but when she didn't react, his hand grasped her smaller one, holding it for a moment until she looked into his eyes. “It's okay, nothing big happened.” He tried to convince, smiling in a silly way despite his bloodied nose and a black eye. “C’mere” Tommy added after she shook her head, pulling her in for a tight hug. “It's okay, I'm fine, I promise. I didn't want them to hurt you, and I succeeded, like a man, yeah?” His voice soothed her slowly, just like his hand rubbing up and down her back. After a long minute she pulled back, nodding lightly as she held his head, cleaning up the cuts.

Tommy didn't say a word for another few minutes, just watching her face as she worked her magic until her cheeks turned bright pink. Clearing his throat, he finally spoke up.

“I'll be ugly for a while now.” Was enough to make her chuckle, and like always, Tommy's laugh followed right after.

“Thank you,” she said. “For saving me and… and being so fearless.” Y/n added shyly, not used to them saying all these nice things to each other.

Thomas shook his head with a breathless chuckle, before looking down.

“I wasn't fearless,” he confessed, making her raise her eyebrows in surprise. “After all, have you seen them? And me? I'm… short.” He chuckled and she immediately followed. “But I couldn't let them hurt you, no matter what.”

“You're not short! You're taller than me!” she argued with her cheeks all red.

“You're a girl, Y/N.” He pointed out, grabbing her hips as she started giggling some more, the gauze on his face shaking along with her arm. A comfortable silence fell between them for a couple moments, before he got up, standing right in front of her.

Taking a deep breath, Thomas ran a hand through his hair.

“Will you kiss me for bravery or am I too ugly for it now?” he asked, trying to appear even more confident with a smile still plastered onto his face, ready for a rejection… that never happened. Y/n nodded at him with a smile as she reached for his cheeks, standing on her tiptoes and pressing her lips against his in a sweet kiss.

“Take me on a date. To the cinema. Tomorrow.” She decided as soon as they parted, looking at him with big, round eyes and Tommy couldn't help but nod, with his face completely red.

“Okay”

~~

After another two glasses sent her way, Thomas chuckled under his breath, eyeing the glass in his hand, when suddenly another hand pulled it out of his grasp. As fast as it disappeared, a feminine hand slammed an empty glass on the counter.

“Are you trying to get me drunk, Shelby?” Y/N asked, coming into his view as she leaned on the counter, eyeing him with a serious expression.

“You were drunk before I stepped foot into the Garrison, eh?” he replied, turning around and facing her fully.

“Hardly” she said, tilting her head to the side as she noticed his hardened expression. “What's got you so down, boss? I thought we're celebrating tonight.” Y/N asked half seriously, gesturing to Harry for another bottle.

“Business as always” he responded, lighting a cigarette and offering her one. She only shook her head, leaning forward and pulling the cigarette out of his lips instead. Tommy kept looking at her, not caring enough to light another one. Just drinking in the sight of her eyeing him like that.

Only after a moment he looked away, glancing into the crowd with a barely audible sigh. Y/n knew him long enough to be able to tell how troubled he was feeling at the moment.

“Come on, Shelby.” She said, swiftly slipping off the counter and grabbing his hand. “You're gonna dance with me” Tommy immediately started shaking his head but didn't let go of her hand even for a moment.

“I don't dance, Love.” He replied in a hoarse voice, but Y/n wouldn't take a “no” for an answer when it came to dancing. Tommy somewhat reluctantly stood and let Y/N lead him to the dancefloor. The music was an energetic tempo leaving little to no space on the dancefloor between dancing, drunk people. Y/n led him through the crowd right into the middle of chaos, to ensure he wouldn't leave at any given moment.

By the time they weaved through the crowd, the celebratory song ended and the musicians played a sweeter slow song.

Hearing it, Tommy looked at her with eyebrows raised, making her giggle.

“Too late to change your mind now. Embrace me, Shelby.” She said sternly, in a joking manner.

Thomas didn't need much more convincing, the thought of getting to hold her was enough of an incentive. Stepping forward, Tommy pulled her closer, wrapping his arm around her hip, keeping some distance between them for her comfort. She, however, closed the distance between them. Their bodies pressed together, moving in the rhythm. It came much more naturally than either of them would expect. As the music got more sensual, their senses became sharper. His big calloused hands kept her in a firm hold, leading her through the dance just right. Tommy felt suddenly a little more drunk than ever, taking in consideration that he had just two glasses of whiskey. The scent of her skin, her hair, the sweet flowery notes clinging to her skin made him want to get even closer. Closer than physically possible. Forget the alcohol, it was her he was truly intoxicated by.

Y/n could feel how heavy his breathing got, as he slowly let go of her hand, both hands wrapping around her hips and keeping her close. She leaned forward, both hands on Tommy's chest which made her feel even more… dizzy. His heart was beating even harder than hers. That was until he stepped forward again, and her face almost settled in his neck. The best part of the song came on, and the tension between them was palpable. Their breaths grew shallow and Thomas felt like he might explode if she didn't look him in the eyes just then.

Pulling back, he leaned down causing his nose to brush against hers, and as soon as Tommy's warm breath touched her lips, the song suddenly ended.

So did the moment, because Y/N immediately sobered, taking a step back and letting go of his touch.

Thomas could see the slightly panicked look in her eyes.

“Y/N” he started out, shaking his head lightly but she took another step back.

“Thanks for the dance, Shelby.” She replied, before turning around and pushing her way through the crowd towards the exit.

“Bloody hell” He hissed under his breath, trying to follow her as quickly as possible. It took him a longer moment, but Thomas finally burst through the door, immediately looking around and finding Y/N walking towards Small Heath.

“Y/N!” He yelled, going after her. For some reason it felt like an important moment which Tommy couldn't afford to fuck up. “Y/N, wait!”

Y/N kept walking, not paying attention to his shouting. Had he taken it too far with their almost kiss? She had kept drawing nearer to him throughout the dance, because the pull was impossibly strong, yet she couldn't bring herself to move past… that.

“Y/N!” He yelled, being mere metres away before finally a strong hand grasped her shoulder, making her turn around. He prepared a few words to say, but all of them disappeared from his head as soon as he saw her teary eyes.

“Why? Why didn't you come back then? I waited for you, Tommy, and you didn't show up.” She immediately said in a vulnerable voice, unable to keep it in any longer. “I was preparing for three hours to look pretty for you!” She was taking short breaks to sniffle quietly, and he tried to find words, but as always in such situations, it was difficult. Y/N had held onto the heartbreak of being stood up by him for years. The only man she could never hold at arm's length, making her feel so foolish. As he tried to stutter out an explanation, “and… and I..” Y/n started out, but got suddenly cut off by his voice.

“He took my fucking money!” He hissed out, pacing back and forth. Sighing deeply, he ran a hand through his hair while Y/N got… confused.

“What? Who?” She asked, her eyebrows furrowed. Only then did he stop right in front of her.

“Finn” He replied, looking into her eyes with his own eyes wide. “Back then… fuck, I was saving for that moment, alright? Times were fucking tough and… and I wanted to go!” He said loudly, rubbing the side of his jaw with frustration. “But this little bastard didn't leave me a single fucking penny! Took all the money and I couldn't show up in my old, worn down clothes and then… not take you anywhere! Not YOU, Y/N! Fuck!” He gave up on trying to talk calmly, the old frustration and annoyance coming back to the surface. “..and then, then you left Birmingham for a while, and i had no fucking clue how to come back from what happened. What to do or say. I was… I was ashamed.”

Y/N remained silent for what felt like eternity which was probably less than a minute. Thomas sighed deeply, bracing for harsh words as he came up, grabbing her chin and tilting her head up to meet his gaze.

“I'm sorry, Love.” He added, when suddenly… she burst out giggling, making him cock an eyebrow in surprise. Only then did she manage to reply between the sniffles and giggles.

“You're an incredibly silly man for a gang leader, Thomas.” She started out, and then.. he knew it would be okay. “If you came wearing a bloody potato sack and wanted to sit under a tree and talk, I would be the happiest girl in the fucking world!” She exclaimed loudly, pushing him lightly. “I never cared about what you wore or where we went, bloody hell, I was following you everywhere! Because I wanted to be around YOU, and that's all that mattered, Tommy.” Her hand covered his much bigger one, eyes becoming more shiny as she spotted the little grin on his face.

“I panicked. I can't explain how sorry I am, Love.” He added, his hand caressing her cheek while his softened gaze remained on her eyes. “I thought about you every single day. Not a thing ever changed for me.” He confessed with a heavy heart.

Y/n became quiet for a moment again before her fingers grazed his reddened, cold cheek.

“You look like you've seen a ghost.” She eventually said, making him chuckle as she pushed his hair away from his eyes.

Thomas took a final step forward, his face mere inches away from her own.

“Well… am I too ugly for a kiss then?”

“Shut up, Shelby.” She sneered, pulling him into a deep but sweet kiss. One she waited for so long, too long.

[mystictimemachinedream]

Irrevocably Yours

a/n: I always wanted to make a yandere x yandere fic. I feel like it didn't come off as dark as it could have been lmao.

Cw: Yandere x Yandere(which means usual talks about killing, love potions, confinement, etc), Yandere!Levi, Yandere!MC(but you're trying to do better), Double Penetration, Rough Sex, Levi having two dicks, some dub-con(there's protests at first but MC actually wants him), Fem!MC, kinda ooc.

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It was becoming too much—how you felt, the way your emotions churned inside you like a storm you couldn’t control. You were trying so hard not to give in to your usual behavior, to be normal, to keep it together. But the obsessive thoughts, the relentless impulse to take, to control, to own, were beginning to creep up, growing stronger with each passing day.

You’d managed to keep that side of yourself under wraps—relatively speaking—by focusing on anything and everything else. You buried yourself in distractions, anything to keep your mind off the darker urges. That was why you avoided relationships, why you pushed away any romantic feelings.

But that wasn’t enough anymore, because you were in love. Completely and utterly in love. The target of your affection was Leviathan, the shy, awkward, but endearing otaku. You hadn’t meant for it to happen; you’d kept your walls tall and unyielding, only offering detached friendship to the demon, just like you did with his brothers. But somehow, that detached friendship had morphed into an actual friendship.

You reasoned with yourself that it was okay to have a friend, as long as it didn’t become more. Friendship was harmless, right? You could handle that.

Wrong.

You quickly went from being just another normie to becoming his Henry, and with that came a shift you hadn’t anticipated. He started dragging you into his room more often, refusing to let you leave with those big, sad eyes and that lovely blush on his face. He’d ask you to stay just a bit longer, his voice tinged with a plea you found impossible to resist. Maybe your mistake was relenting so often, convincing yourself that you were doing it for the sake of your friendship, feeding into the denial that you weren’t crossing a line.

It was during one of those many nights spent gaming together that the truth hit you—like a bucket of ice-cold water. You were infatuated with him. The realization came when you found yourself wondering how you could keep him isolated, how you could ensure that no one else could be around him but you. The thought startled you, made you question everything. You were trying to be good, to do better. You couldn’t possibly be infatuated. That wasn’t you, not anymore. So you decided you needed to distance yourself from him, just a bit, so you could get over whatever it was you were feeling. It should have been easy, right?

Wrong again.

You didn’t anticipate Leviathan’s persistence. You thought of him as too shy, too easily flustered to chase after anyone, least of all you. But he never gave up. He whined in your ear, his voice desperate and needy, tugging on your clothes like a child afraid of being left alone. He even went as far as staying in your room with you, refusing to leave your side. It was so out of character, so unlike the Leviathan you thought you knew, that it rendered you speechless every single time. (And maybe, just maybe, another mistake you made was not paying closer attention to the hidden obsession lurking in his eyes, the way they darkened with something deeper, something more dangerous.)

Seeing such persistence warmed your heart, though. It showed you that he was willing to fight for you, to keep you close no matter what. Infatuation quickly turned into love—so completely in love. But just because you were in love didn’t necessarily mean it had to be obsessive or controlling, right? It could be a pure love, right?

Completely and utterly wrong. (And you wondered, in those rare moments of clarity, was anything you decided ever the right choice?)

The thoughts about being the only one around him consumed you. The maddening jealousy you felt when you heard him talk to his friends online, the burning urge to destroy all of his Ruri-chan merchandise—because how dare he love anything else but you?!—the overwhelming need to check all his electronics to make sure there was no one else… it all started to eat away at you.

All you could think of was him: Leviathan, Leviathan, Leviathan.

But still, you tried. You tried your best to fight it, because you were trying to do better. To be good. You wanted to love him in a pure, wholesome way. You didn’t want your love to be so obsessive, so twisted. But it was getting harder and harder to suppress the urges. (But were you really even trying hard enough, or were you just kidding yourself?)

It took all your willpower not to give in, but even with that, there were small things you did without his knowledge—like taking articles of his clothing, savoring the way they smelled of him. You took harmless peeks here and there at his computer and even his phone (and it wasn’t like he made it hard to figure out his passwords when he put it in right in front of you). Occasionally, you’d discourage him from going outside, convincing him it was safer, better to stay in. But it was all harmless, at least that’s what you wanted to believe, because at least you hadn’t snuck in a love potion to make him yours. (Not yet, at least.)

Still, you knew deep down that you couldn’t continue like this. The thought of hurting Leviathan twisted your heart—but you would, without hesitation, if he ever so much as looked at someone else. HE WAS YOURS. The intensity of your love for him made it clear that you needed to try again to put some distance between you, even if it meant spending time with one of his brothers instead. (It was almost laughable how desperate they were for your attention.)

That decision is what led you to your current predicament. It was your fault, yes, but your intentions were pure—at least, that’s what you told yourself. (Or was it that you were just too afraid to surrender completely?)

“I can’t,” you repeated firmly, holding your ground as you rejected Leviathan’s invitation to hang out. “I have plans with Beel.”

“P-Plans?” he echoed, his voice thick with disbelief, as though the word itself was foreign to him. His tone softened into a desperate plea. “Come on, it’ll be fun. Beel will understand if you cancel.”

The way he looked at you—so sweet, so hopeful—almost broke your resolve. But you knew you had to stay strong. “I already said I can’t. I’ll hang out with you afterwards.”

With one last, fleeting glance in his direction, you turned and walked away. If you had only looked back, you would have seen the dark, ominous scowl that had settled on his face.

When you returned from your outing with Beelzebub, who was sweet but unbearably boring, you found yourself debating whether to go see Leviathan. But you decided against it, reminding yourself of the need to maintain your distance, no matter how much it hurt. You clung to that conviction even as you ignored the constant stream of message notifications chiming from your D.D.D while you got ready for bed.

And maybe—just maybe—if you hadn’t been so completely lost in sleep, you would have noticed Leviathan standing silently at the foot of your bed, his demon form fully revealed, with slitted, orange-glowing eyes fixed intently on your figure.

This pattern continued for an entire week. You spent time with one brother after another, each day rejecting Leviathan’s invitations with an ache in your heart. But then, something strange started happening. Random pieces of your clothing—mostly your panties—began to disappear. Objects like your notebooks, chapstick, hair ties, and even pillows vanished without a trace. By that point, you knew it wasn’t just your imagination.

It made you want to scream. Someone actually had the audacity to take your things—and how dare they covet you when you belonged to Levi! The thought burned in your mind, making it nearly impossible to focus as Satan tried to engage you in conversation at the cat café. The soft meows and gentle purring of the cats around you did nothing to soothe the growing anger bubbling inside. Every time you saw a playful swish of a tail or felt a soft nuzzle, your thoughts drifted back to the house, to the annoyance you were going to have to deal with. You knew you’d have to investigate more thoroughly the moment you returned.

Once the two of you finally arrived back at the house, you were on a mission. Barely muttering a goodbye to Satan, you made a beeline for your room, your heart pounding with anticipation. The hallways blurred as you stormed through them, your mind solely focused on getting answers, to check and see if anything else went missing. Reaching your door, you flung it open with a force that made the hinges creak. But the sight that greeted you stopped you in your tracks.

Leviathan was sitting on your bed, his posture casual yet somehow possessive, as if he owned not just the bed but the entire space around him. His presence filled the room, and for a moment, you faltered, the anger you had felt earlier mixing with surprise and something else you couldn’t quite name (was it excitement?). You closed the door behind you, the click of the latch sounding louder than it should have in the stillness.

“Levi?” you questioned, your voice wavering slightly. The intensity of his gaze when he finally looked up at you made your breath catch. His usually soft and shy demeanor was replaced with something far more focused, almost predatory.

“Did you have fun with Satan?” he asked bluntly, his voice low and steady. The stillness of his figure, the way he didn’t move a muscle, made you instantly cautious. It was like he was waiting for something—for a slip, a crack in your composure.

“I did,” you lied easily, though the words tasted bitter on your tongue. The truth was, you had hated every second of your time with Satan, and it wasn’t just because of him. You loathed going out with any of Leviathan’s brothers.

Leviathan tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing as he observed you. It felt like he could see right through your lie, peeling back layers to uncover the truth you were trying to hide. The intensity of his scrutiny almost made you shiver. But then, as quickly as the tension had arisen, it dissipated. Leviathan looked away, his fingers beginning to fidget with his D.D.D. The shift in his demeanor was almost surreal.

“W-would you like to come to my room? We haven’t s-spent time together,” he asked, his voice softer now, almost hesitant. When he looked at you again, his eyes were no longer sharp and probing but soft and vulnerable.

You hesitated, weighing your options. It should be fine to go with him this one time. You told yourself you’d make it quick—just a few minutes in his room, and then you’d leave. The sudden foreboding feeling you had should had deterred you yet you chose to ignore it (or maybe you just didn’t want to see the signs right in front of you).

“Sure.” A word that sealed your fate.

As you walked with him through the dimly lit hallway, the anxiety grew stronger, tightening its grip on your chest with every step. Leviathan was close enough that you could feel the occasional brush of his arm against yours, and each touch sent a jolt through your body, heightening your unease. The closer you got to his room, the heavier the air felt, as if the walls themselves were closing in on you. You wondered if you would be able to bolt if things spiraled out of control, your mind already calculating the distance to the door and the speed you’d need to escape.

When you both stood in front of his door, the tension in the air was palpable, a suffocating presence that made your skin crawl. It was almost ominous when he opened the door and gestured for you to step inside, the sound of the door creaking open like a warning you were too stubborn to heed. As you walked in, your eyes darted around the room, searching for anything out of place, but everything looked the same. His usual setup, the familiar clutter of manga and figurines… So why were you feeling like th—oh.

Your breath caught in your throat as your gaze landed on his desk. Those were your items scattered across it, some new things that you hadn’t even realized were missing yet. And there, in his tub, nestled among his many sheets and body pillows, were your clothes, panties and pillows, arranged almost reverently.

You stood there, paralyzed by shock, even as you heard the door close behind you, the sound of the lock sliding into place echoing loudly in your ears.

“Levi, that’s… my stuff, my clothes,” you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper, but you knew he heard you. He was standing so close behind you now that you could feel the heat of his body radiating against your back, making you shiver involuntarily.

“Why have you been avoiding me?” he asked, his voice low and eerily calm, completely ignoring your statement as if it were irrelevant. His breath tickled your ear, sending another shiver down your spine.

This wasn’t what you expected. Leviathan wasn’t supposed to be like you, caught in the same struggle, battling the same obsession. The thought made your heart race. That wasn’t good—you didn’t want to be pulled further into obsession, into depravity. You wanted to be normal, to be better, to be good. You chanted those words to yourself like a prayer, a desperate attempt to cling to sanity, even as you finally turned to look at him.

He was looking at you with an intensity that made your breath hitch, his eyes locked onto yours as if you were the only thing that existed in his world.

But you couldn’t give in. You were determined to have a wholesome, pure romance with him. You had to resist, had to keep things from spiraling out of control.

“Don’t make me ask you again,” he growled, his voice dropping an octave as he grabbed your chin with a firm hand, his hold almost bruising in its intensity (and his aggressiveness shouldn’t have been so arousing to you).

“Things were getting too… intense. I just wanted a bit of space so things could mellow down between us,” you answered hesitantly, your words stumbling over themselves as you tried to make him understand. But even as you spoke, you could feel the flimsiness of your excuse, the way it barely held together under the weight of the truth.

“Intense?” He grinned, a smile that was more a baring of teeth than anything else, with an almost maniacal edge to it. His eyes gleamed with a knowing light, as if he could see right through you, as if he knew all the things you’d done behind his back, all the secrets you thought you’d kept hidden.

But you stubbornly kept your mouth shut. You could do this—you could talk him down, make him see reason. You would keep your distance and regain control (liar, liar, liar. All you did was lie).

“I know you want me. At first, I couldn’t believe it because why would you want me? But then, you started taking some of my clothes.” He looked deeply pleased as he let go of your chin, bending down to nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck. His breath was warm against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine as he spoke. “I could even feel your envy, your jealousy when I’d game with my friends or when I gave too much attention to anything else that wasn’t you.”

You sucked in a breath as he slowly nipped at your neck, his teeth grazing your skin in a way that sent a jolt of sensation through your body, heat pooling in your core despite yourself.

“I thought things were going well,” he paused, his voice darkening as he continued, “but then you started spending time with my brothers. You were ignoring my messages and invitations to come to my room.” As those words left his lips, the nipping grew harsher until he bit down on your neck deep enough to leave a mark but not enough to draw blood. The sudden sharp pain made you yelp and squirm in his grasp, but his hold was unrelenting.

He snarled at your attempts to break free, the sound vibrating against your skin, and you froze again, your body betraying you as a wave of desire crashed over you. You wanted to give in so badly—you wanted him to be yours. You wanted to be his. This side of him was so unexpected but definitely not unwelcome.

“I need you to explain yourself. Now.” His grip tightened as he fisted his hand in your hair and yanked it back harshly, forcing you to meet his gaze.

You licked your lips, trying to steady your breathing. “Levi, this just isn’t… healthy. I’m trying to do better.”

He scoffed, as if your answer was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. “We want to be with each other. Does anything else matter?”

His words were tempting, far too tempting. But you wanted your love to last, to be built on a solid foundation (but really, you were just a fucking coward).

“It does matter. How about you let me go back to my room so we can think about this?” you suggested, your voice trembling slightly. The grip on your hair tightened, pulling at your scalp, and you winced in pain (but you wanted him to be even more aggressive, to show you how much he loved you).

“You, better than anyone, should know that you aren’t going anywhere. If I have to tie you up, then I will.” He released your hair with a sudden force and pushed you down onto the floor. The impact was harsh, and you barely managed to catch yourself with your hands before your head could hit the hard surface. He stood over you, a blank expression on his face as he watched you struggle to steady yourself.

“L-Levi, just calm down. We can talk about this,” you pleaded softly, your voice trembling as he dropped to his knees, caging you in his arms against the cold, hard floor. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, mingling with the coolness of the floor beneath you. If he kept pushing, you knew you would give in.

“For someone who wants me just as badly, you’re protesting too much.” His voice was low, dangerously calm, as he leaned his forehead against yours. His breath ghosted over your lips. “But don’t worry, I’ll fuck the fight out of you. And if that doesn’t work, well, I don’t mind using other methods if it means keeping you with me.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn’t help the way your body reacted. Heat pooled between your thighs, your panties already soaked through. You almost moaned at the sheer threat in his voice, and you wondered just how much rougher he’d get if you kept resisting. Would he lose control entirely? (You hoped he would.)

“Levi, please. We can’t,” you whined weakly, your resolve wavering as his lips brushed against yours. You somehow managed to turn your head away, but the gesture felt futile. The air around you shifted as he pulled back, his energy darkening. When you glanced up at him, his demon form was already out—scales glistening under the dim light, coral horns out, his tail swaying predatorily, and his glowing orange eyes fixated on you with an intensity that made your breath hitch.

“Fine, I guess we’ll do this the hard way,” he growled in your ear. The words sent your mind spiraling, and before you could fully process what was happening, everything became a blur of heat and sensation.

You gasped, eyes widening as his hand slid under your skirt with purpose, fingers expertly finding your soaked core. He moaned—a deep, guttural sound that sent a thrill through your body—when he felt how wet you were even through the thin fabric of your panties. It was the only confirmation he needed, the last bit of proof that you truly wanted him, needed him, despite your feeble protests.

With a heated urgency, his hands tore away your panties and skirt, ripping through the delicate fabric like it was nothing. Your shirt and bra followed, shredded under his impatient touch, leaving your skin exposed to the cool air and his hungry gaze. He didn’t waste a second, pulling you into a smoldering kiss that was all heat and desperation. Just like that, your resolve shattered, crumbling beneath the weight of your desire. You returned the kiss with equal fervor because you wanted—no, you needed—him so badly it ached.

He smirked against your lips when he felt you go pliant in his arms, the tension leaving your body as you surrendered to him. His mouth broke away from yours, only to descend upon your chest, his hot breath trailing over your skin as he left a path of bruising bite marks in his wake. Each nip sent a jolt of pleasure-pain through you, drawing breathless moans from your lips.

Your hands tangled in his hair, tugging him closer as he zeroed in on one of your nipples, his mouth hot and eager. He sucked on the small nub, his tongue swirling around it before his teeth grazed the sensitive flesh, sending sparks of pleasure straight to your core. Meanwhile, his thick fingers pumped into your wet, warm cunt—two at first, then three, and finally four, stretching you open with a pace that was fast and merciless. The sensation was overwhelming, the roughness almost too much to bear, but you craved it. You needed more.

He didn’t give you a moment to adjust, didn’t let you catch your breath as he fucked you with his fingers, driving them in deep with each thrust. His thumb found your swollen clit, rubbing tight, desperate circles that had you crying out, your body arching off the floor. The pleasure was intense, almost unbearable, but you loved it.

You hugged him closer, your whines and pleas for more filling the room, mingling with the sounds of your slick arousal as his fingers moved in and out of you with relentless speed. He was going to make you cum already, and you hadn’t even gotten started. His mouth finally released your nipple, leaving it glistening with his saliva, and he pulled you into an almost desperate kiss, his tongue plunging into your mouth as he curled his fingers just right inside you.

Your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, crashing over you with a force that left you breathless. You cried out, the sound muffled by his mouth, and your cunt clenched around his fingers, gushing wetness all over his hand. He didn’t stop, didn’t slow down, riding you through your orgasm as if he wanted to wring every last drop of pleasure from you.

It was all so rough, so fast, but it felt so right, like this was exactly how it was meant to be. You could only watch with half-lidded eyes, your breath coming in short gasps, as he finally pulled his fingers out of your throbbing cunt. Your juices coated his hand and he brought his fingers to his mouth, licking them clean with a look of pure satisfaction.

But he wasn’t done. Not even close.

He leaned back, his glowing eyes never leaving yours as he reached for his zipper. The sound of it being pulled down was almost deafening in the silence that followed. He didn’t bother fully undressing, only tugging his jeans down just enough to free his cock—no, cocks. He had two of them, thick and throbbing with need.

Your mouth watered at the sight of him, and your cunt clenched on nothing as you imagined the sensation of him fucking you open on those thick, pulsating cocks. The mere thought made you shiver. You spread your legs wider, a silent plea, an open invitation that had him settling between them eagerly.

“This messy cunt belongs to me,” Leviathan rasped, his voice low and gravelly, as he rubbed both of his cocks against the slick folds of your cunt. The friction sent a jolt of pleasure through you, making you gasp as he gathered the wetness on the heads of his cocks, teasing your entrance with slow, deliberate movements. “You belong to me. I need you to remember that because I will kill anyone you so much as look at for too long. I don’t even want you leaving my room at all.”

You mewled softly at his words, the sound escaping your lips involuntarily, and you knew in that moment that there was no going back. You couldn’t deny it anymore—couldn’t even pretend to care how twisted your love had become, how unhealthy it likely was. All that mattered was that he was finally yours, and you would do anything to keep him that way.

“Do you understand?” Leviathan’s tone was harsh as he gripped both of his cocks firmly, positioning them at your entrance. He pushed forward slowly, just the tips breaching your slick, swollen folds. The stretch was intense, borderline painful, but the pleasure that accompanied it was undeniable. A high-pitched moan tore from your throat as your eyes became teary at the sensation.

“Levi!” you whined, desperation lacing your voice as you attempted to roll your hips down, to pull more of him inside. But his tail coiled around your waist, holding you firmly in place.

“I asked you a question. Do you understand?” Leviathan remained still, his gaze dark with lust, waiting for your answer. When you didn’t respond quickly enough, his hand moved to your breast, fingers tugging one of your nipples harshly. The sting made you gasp, a mixture of pain and pleasure that sent a jolt straight to your core. “Or are you so cock-drunk already that you can’t even answer me?”

“I—I understand,” you panted, finally finding your voice. You reached up, your hand tangling in his hair as you yanked him down, bringing his face closer to yours. “But that also means you belong to me. I will kill you and myself if you ever try to leave me.”

“Fuck,” he cursed, and you felt his cocks twitch at your words. His lips crashed into yours in a sloppy, heated kiss, all teeth and tongue, as if he was trying to devour you whole. The kiss broke only when he pulled back to latch onto the side of your neck that was still unmarked, his teeth grazing your skin before sinking in, marking you with more bruises that would be visible for days. And then, with a snap of his hips, he thrust both cocks fully inside you.

The stretch was overwhelming, the sensation of being so utterly full making you sob with pleasure. He didn’t give you time to adjust, his pace punishing as he pounded into you, each thrust harder and faster than the last. It was as if he were releasing all the pent-up anger from the week you had avoided him, taking out his frustration on your body. But you welcomed it, craved it even. You’d always loved the bite of pain with your pleasure, always been a bit of a masochist for it.

Moans mixed with cries of pleasure, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the room. It was loud, lewd, and unmistakable, and you knew anyone within earshot would know exactly what was happening. But the thought only fueled your desire for him, making you arch against him, desperate to take him even deeper.

You felt another orgasm building, coiling tight in your core as one of Leviathan’s cocks hit your sweet spot with each thrust, while the blunt tip of the other bumped against your cervix, making you see stars. The sensations were overwhelming, your mind going hazy as you babbled incoherently, slurred pleas and moans spilling from your lips.

Leviathan’s eyes were glued to your face, watching every expression, every reaction. The sight of you—completely fucked out, cock-drunk and lost in pleasure—sent a surge of smug satisfaction through him. He moaned loudly, the sound almost desperate as he lifted your legs, pressing your knees against your chest, and somehow, impossibly, drove even deeper inside you.

You wailed as another orgasm tore through you, your cunt clenching and throbbing around him, the pleasure almost too intense to bear. He whined at the sensation, his own pace faltering as he neared his release. With a final, forceful thrust, he buried himself deep inside you and came, his hot seed flooding your cunt. The feeling of him filling you, marking you from the inside out, made you moan weakly.

He panted heavily as he finally stopped cumming, his breath ragged as he slowly pulled out, even as you whimpered from the overstimulation. Cum leaked from your thoroughly used cunt, trailing down to your ass as he admired the state he’d left you in.

For a moment, he just looked at you—as if memorizing every mark, every bruise, every inch of you that he’d claimed. Then, with surprising gentleness and a now adorable flush on his face, he picked you up, holding you close to his chest. He carried you to his tub and he climbed in, laying down with you on top of him, his arms wrapped securely around you as he pulled a soft sheet over both of you.

You snuggled closer against his chest, your eyes fluttering shut as exhaustion washed over you. The romance between you two was never going to be pure, never going to be simple. It was twisted, dark, and even dangerous—but it was real. You belonged to each other, and that was enough.

You would do anything to keep him because Leviathan was finally yours. And really, this was the best outcome you could have hoped for. Now, you didn’t have to go through with your darker plans of somehow knocking him out and trapping him somewhere. You only hoped he took you seriously about never leaving, because you truly would kill him if he tried. He belonged to you, after all.

[temis-de-leon]

Gn!MC with chronic joint pain

Characters: Mammon, Leviathan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub and Belphegor (x reader, separately, could be read as romantic or platonic)

Main Masterlist

Anon request: Could I request the brothers with a gn!MC with chronic joint pain? Sure, medicine makes it feel better when they take it, but it never 100% goes away and the meds aren't without side effects. On a good day, they can function relatively normally even if they do certain things at a slower pace. However, on a bad day, they can hardly get out of bed or do basic tasks (brush their teeth, lift a coffee cup, use a hand towel, etc) without difficulty, and require a fair amount of support when flare ups happen

A/N: I'm pretty sure Google thinks I'm the one with chronic pain

.

Mammon

Although he’s the one who spends time with you the most, it took an embarrassingly long time to notice how significant your winces and fatigue were. After all, his initial belief was that humans were naturally weak.

He thought he understood why you stayed too long in bed from time to time or why your brows would frown when you grabbed your backpack if it was especially heavy some days.

You’d say you couldn’t help it whenever he teased and of course, you talked with frustration each of those times, so he learnt to ignore it; just like you tried to do.

Then came the day when he crushed you in the hallway while running away from Lucifer. The only thing he could do before both of you fell to the ground was twist your body so he could act as a cushion, but even that wasn’t enough.

You started to complain before he had the chance to ask for payment for his ‘sacrifice’, but it wasn’t just words or berating; Lucifer was already doing plenty of that.

It was a mix of gasps and moans of pain that stopped both brothers in their tracks.

The only reason why the eldest didn’t obliterate the younger demon on the spot was because the guilt was already eating him alive.

He helps you with no asking needed, carrying your backpack to and from school, helping you put on your coat or making you breakfast, although it’ll most likely be burnt.

He’ll stop if it makes you feel useless or incapacitated on days when you are mostly okay, but if you’re barely able to lift your head off the pillow, you can bet all your money he’s laying right next to you ready to make you some company, even in silence.

It will take him some time, but, eventually, you will have his undying support.

Levi

Being as distracted as he is, with his eyes glued to a screen most of the day, wasn’t an excuse for him to ignore all the pill bottles in your bathroom cabinet or the way you sometimes couldn’t keep up with him when he was excited and walking too fast.

He feels like a horrible friend when you tell him. He should’ve known!

You will have to explain the whole situation to him in the comfort of his room, moments after he requests your presence for the testing of an arcade shooting game that will, for sure, make your arms sore for the next few days.

Although you assure him you can still play, just not for excruciatingly long periods and on lower difficulty, he still feels like he failed you in some way.

Sharing his interests with you will never be enjoyable as long as it has the possibility of causing you pain.

Fortunately, he knows countless games where long-range movements are not required and you can have fun anyway: visual and choice-based novels, turn-based RPGs, social simulation games…

He especially likes the choice-based ones. From your views on morality to romance and friendship, each important interaction with the characters or the lore helps him know you more and more as the game progresses.

It doesn’t stop there, though.

He will also try, not so subtly, to find games, shows, comics and manga where you can relate to the main character in one way or another.

It could be seen as pity, but that isn’t his intention at all. You should enjoy the media you interact with! Either heroes or villains or something in between, you should have someone you can understand on the screen or paper.

Asmo

Since observing you and everything related to you is an enjoyable pastime of his, it doesn’t take him long before he figures out your medication schedule. At first his beauty-driven mind thinks your pills are vitamin supplements, but then he notices the headaches, the stomach issues and the exhaustion; no doubt side effects.

It is on one of your worst days when he knocks on your door asking to spend the evening together. The only thing you can do to greet him is throw a weak peace sign from beneath the blankets and that’s when he pouts and frowns in worry.

He hopes you trust him enough to talk about it in case you want to keep it a secret and, if not, why would he treat it like a taboo subject?

He may be the only one who straight-up asks with absolute normality.

Changes are not noticeable at first seeing that he already liked being around you and dotting on you before knowing anything, but rest assured he will be there if you ever need him.

On days when you feel like you can’t take care of yourself, the only thing you have to do is send him a message.

Whatever you need, he will do.

From drawing a bath so you don’t have to stand up while holding the shower head to applying dry shampoo on your hair so you don’t get out of bed at all. He will also do your skincare routine and even your makeup if you're up to it; brush your teeth and your hair and organize your room while mindlessly chatting with you.

His favourite shared activity is painting your nails since you don’t have to move at all and you still enjoy each other’s company.

The rest of the brothers need to remind him from time to time that you aren’t a doll for him to dress, but he won’t ever do something that makes you uncomfortable in any way.

Beel

He doesn’t really notice until it comes up naturally in conversation.

You’re both in the kitchen, getting a snack to hold on until everyone is ready for dinner, and he starts talking about a new workout plan he is following in the gym. A famous bodybuilder posted it on his Devilgram account and he was too curious not to give it a shot.

Although he can do it on his own, he likes to spend time with you, so he innocently asks if you want to go with him someday and try it, even if it’s a watered-down beginner version.

It’s not like you can’t go to the gym, but the number of exercises you feel like you can do is limited and you need to be mindful while doing all of them. Hell, even at home you need to be careful with some of your movements, doing simple chores like making your bed or washing the dishes.

You remind him how you cook too, usually doing one-pot meals and trying to use your body as little as possible; there are human influencers (highly recommend) that show specific tricks to make cooking easier for people like you, after all.

Luckily, he understands immediately, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to give up.

Unbeknownst to you, he researches specialized exercises and routines, as well as food, made to alleviate pain and strengthen your weakest points.

It isn’t a definitive solution, and certainly not the best, but it’s the thought that counts and he’s genuinely trying to make your life more comfortable and pleasant; not so draining.

He won’t push if you decline his offers and options (he’ll never force you to do anything, even if it benefits you), but will be extremely happy if you accept.

Belphie

He never asks, but you never have to tell him either, he just knows.

Your pain reflects in the way you move and live your day-to-day life, slower than the rest of them and always taking precautions, medicating yourself periodically even if sometimes that isn’t enough.

All of them have dinner in your room when you’re feeling way worse than usual and each time his memories can’t help but go back to that fateful evening in the attic.

He willingly and excitedly caused you abysmal pain back then, but he doesn’t want to imagine how underestimated his measurements are.

You suffered, yes, but all of that happened in the past.

Asking you what exactly hurts and what makes it worse won’t help his guilt at all.

Now that he can help you, he won’t do anything but.

Being who he is and liking what he likes, he has a trustworthy list of mattresses and pillows that he doesn’t hesitate to share with you.

He knows better than anybody else what a well-rested body can do to the mind and, although it may not help much, he insists you try at least once.

Going shopping for something like this and doing it with him is a double-edged sword; while he couldn’t be a better critic, there’s also the possibility of him falling asleep on one of the mattresses on display.

And you know perfectly well you aren’t going to be the one dragging him back home, so inviting Beel as well is always the best choice; especially since you can hang out after shopping knowing that you will have your purchase delivered.

If you still feel like you aren’t getting any rest, he will use a little bit of his magic to make you fall asleep more easily without waking up in discomfort.

.

.

Taglist: @hatchers-hoard @ilovecandys2010  @ollieoven @kingofspadesdelusion @whimsybloom

[devoutekuna]

Meeting their new siblings

Includes- Toji, Sukuna, Nanami, Gojo, Geto

Sukuna-

"Why does he look like that daddy?" Pointing to the baby, her brother was currently fighting back a sneeze, so of course they made an ugly face. "Cause he takes after your mother" your husband always made sly remarks about you despite being one of the prettiest women he's ever seen. "Leave mummy alone!" Trying to hit the man. Only for her hand to be caught by him. "You take after her too, with that bratty attitude" now dangling in the air by her hand. "Shut up ugly!" Kicking him in the chest.

Nanami-

He had just picked his daughter up from a relative's house, strolling into the house with his daughter running Infront of him to try and race him for whoever gets to see the baby first, unbeknownst to her, he was at the hospital as you gave birth so he already met his daughter. "Daddy look!" Pointing at the baby, she was asleep in your lap. "Quieten down sweetheart" he seemed more tired than you, despite you being the one who actually gave birth. Then again, he always seemed tired and stressed so it wasn't anything new. Placing himself right next to you. "Isn't she cute?" Your newborn daughter was currently asleep on your lap, so she couldn't get the best look at her face.

Geto-

His daughter hates the fact that she'd shave to share her father, though she loved her new siblings. Poking at her newborn sibling as he laid sleeping in their crib. "Daddy, he won't get up" dragging him over to look at the baby. "Cause they're sleeping" stopping her hand from waking up his newborn. "Wake him up, I want to play with him" looking up at her father as she tried to sneak her hand back into the crib. "No, leave them" trying to drag her away only to be met with restraints from her as she held onto the side.

Gojo-

"The number after twelve" that's all you could hear, normally your son would never talk to himself, your daughter was asleep in your shared bedroom, your husband downstairs with you. And your son being left upstairs in the room closest to your bedroom..

"Baby, are you in my bedroom?" Walking up the stairs, leaving Satoru downstairs to fend for himself. Walking into your bedroom to find your eldest child sat in the crib putting stickers all over her new swaddle. Gasps erupted from your mouth as you saw her, fortunately she was fast asleep. Having no words to come out as you saw them, quickly picking up the toddler and putting him on the bed.

Toji-

"Eat baby" this is why he never left his daughter alone with younger children, she was so out of pocket. Trying to stuff a bottle of milk into the little boy's mouth. "Eat" the poor kid was crying his eyes out. Though from her perspective, he was just crying because he was hungry not in pain or anything like that. "Leave him alone." Sighing in response, out of the two of his children, his newborn son was one of the hardest to soothe. He could cry for hours on end before falling asleep from exhaustion. Grabbing the poor baby. "But he needs to eat" unwrapping the swaddle. "He's not a toy".

[jube-art]

Hi!! I really love your Kryptonian au. I’m just curious, what is Clark and Conner’s relationship like in this au? Another thought - would the bats be unsettled by the fact that Kon isn’t fully Kryptonian and has Tactile Telekinesis? Have a great day!

The greenhouse had plenty to do in it, for the four hours a day the refugees could sit in it without adverse reactions. Plenty of plants they hadn't seen before, plenty of plants they had. Food larger than even back home on Krypton, growing freely to take and eat whenever one of them had enough energy to reach out and grab them. The large windows shows a barren landscape of nothingness, of blinding white and snow that reminds Bru exactly of Kandor, back when Kandor still existed.

They were brought things, while they rested in the greenhouse, to keep them warm. Fluffy strange towels used to wash off the water that they were allowed to bask in- water abundant and clear and overflowing, circulating constantly, filled to the brim unlike anything Bru had seen before. Little strange things that gave off heat to warm their bones, chords coming off of them leading away into the main chamber, brightly colored and strange. Plush chairs to rest on, shade to hide away under when they started to get dizzy.

Daym was already asleep, snoring gently as he drifted. Te normally floated around, bouncing slowly off the sides of the water enclosure, but Jae, Dic, and Bru, towards the end of their time in the greenhouse, usually just talked.

Today, like most days, the topic was of their generous hosts, the members of the noble house of El.

"-I heard that Kon-El was a clone of Kal-El." Dic whispers to them, wrapped up in a thick bundle of fabrics and with his feet towards the little portable heat source. "Can you believe it?" Bru can, he watches them both, a bit farther away and talking in that strange, disjointed language they do. They look remarkably similar, more similar than Bru and Dyam do, even, it's not unusual for a leading political or scientific figure to be cloned to continue on their work after the original has passed. A little odd to have them be so close in age, of course, but if Kal-El really does have a whole, living breathing clone, so vividly well done, then this world truly is a paradise.

--

Clark and Kon have their canon, comic relationship of being strange Brother-Uncle-Nephew-Cousin things, and are relatively friendly with each other. As for the cloning, we're saying that it's not unusual on Krypton (because they're all pod people) for important figures to be cloned over and over again to continue on their work. (Similar to if we just continued to clone FDR and elect him president every four years.)

[baizhuswifey]

The demon brothers as babies

So it was a regular ol day Solomon was over at HoL and the brothers were screaming and arguing a little bit more than usual which is weird cus it's usually not all seven of them arguing so Solomon gets the great idea to use a mystery spell and turn them all into something random but he does it without telling them...you were onboard because they need to shut the hell up they've been arguing for hours on end.so without warning Solomon whispers his spell and all the brothers poof away.you and Solomon gets scared for a quick second because you don't know where they are but you suddenly hear the loud cries of....baby leviathan hidden under his over sized clothes.you two originally planned to keep it secret.but after 30 minutes or so diavolo gets worried because lucifer hasn't answered his texts and thats so weird he never takes more than 40 seconds.so he heads over to HoL to see you and solomon dealing with seven very unamused babies.and somehow barbatos luke and simeon end up at HoL too with the babies. You guys knew how to turn them back but you decided that they could spend a week or two as babies so that's what they did.

Lucifer

He's a quiet baby never really crying unless there's something really wrong but he's also very specific about how he wants things.he wants his bottle cold but not too cold but he wants his bath water warm but not warm.hes just calm lil guy.forbid anything be wrong from how he wants it he's gonna scream and cry he won't stop until the problem is fixed.if you are someone he's fond of (like simeon and diavolo) he'll blow you little kisses.dont let him see any of his brothers upset he doesn't not like seeing them upset it hurts his feelings.if theres a problem you can't solve he knows what to do.one time you made baby asmo mad and he was side eyeing you the rest of the day

Mammon

He's a Velcro baby please don't put him down or he's going to cry.dont move away from him,don't let anybody else hold him (for some unknown reason he will let barbatos and Luke hold him without problem)he's relatively normal baby just don't separate yourself from him...he has separation anxiety.dont wear jewelry around him he will pull it take it and chew it.hes so cuddly tho he loves forehead kisses.but don't do too much he'll push you away. He will watch over baby belphie while he sleeps to make sure hes safe

Leviathan

He's a Velcro baby just like mammon but he will let anybody hold him.he cries more often than not.he just won't stop crying he's like full time cry baby.other than that he's the sweetest baby out of all the brothers (being rivaled with beel and asmo)he will blow you kisses and clap for you.he's really cuddly just don't move his around too frequently he's used to staying in one place for a while.he really likes bath time you have to bribe him to get out water.he and mammon do that little thing where they pat their hands together it's really cute

Satan

He's cool it's just easy to make him mad.you don't do the airplane motion when feeding him smashed fruits he will throw the whole bowl at you and kick you.he won't cry unless he's hurt.but for the life of any life form near don't make him upset babies have strength like no other. When reading book for him to sleep he wants to sit in your lap and look at pictures or flip the pages.wont wear clothes unless it has a cat on it (unfortunately you had to learn the hard way and he bit you) don't let him near baby Lucifer or he'll pull his hair and you basically have to keep them separated

Asmodeus

Bro is such a sweetheart and a cutie pie it makes you want to cry he will let anybody hold him but his favorites are simeon and solomon.do not get food on his face or anything relatively messy get on him or he will have fit like full on screaming and biting.hes a clean baby so it's not very hard to clean him up.other than he's okay with everything else.he does little dancie dance when he's happy.helps clean baby beels face after he finished eating.

Beelzebub

He is very sweet and calm just don't let him get hungry or let him near his brother's while they eat he will take their snacks,well not belphie he will spare his snacks.the only things that make him made are being separated from belphie, not feeding him and seeing belphie upset. Anything else and he doesn't really care.he cant stay in the same place he likes to move around just as long as baby belphie is with him. often stealing snacks from Levi because he knows he won't fight he'll just cry.

Belphegor

He's always sleeping but the second you move beel from him he's awake and crying.he gets cranky easy so just let him have his sleep until it's time for feeding time or bath time. other than that he just sits there staring into space or playing with beel (they have a giant ball and they like to push it to eachother back and forth) he really only lets you and Luke hold him he does not like being moved around. he likes to cuddle tho and over all he just doesn't give a damn. He likes to sit with baby Satan while you read for them

When all of them transformed back into adults they were all in your bed and Satan and mammon were on the floor, Levi was on your chest,asmo was holding your leg Lucifer and beel were nuzzled next to you and beel was above your head and when they all woke up it was super awkward

"uhhh why the hell are we all in here"

"better question weren't we just arguing and then we blacked out"

"and why am I in a footed onesie with airplane on it"

You explain to them and they get really embarrassed and hide for the rest of the day

Should I write part two with the dateables and undatables😋😋😋😋😘😘😘❤️❤️❤️anyways thanks for reaching and if you have any suggestions dm them to me

[fishsticksloser]

Since we have sfw mating season turtle's, what about a nsfw one?

HEAR ME OUT-

(Feel free to ignore if your uncomfortable or your too busy to do it)

Mating Season Pt2

Future RotTMNT x gn!reader

Warnings: smut ish, fluff, feral turtles, talk about rough sex, talk about biting/marking, wounds mentioned

A/N: I'm not gonna write small little drabbles, but I will go more in depth

Donnie

He still had precautions

But you insisted on helping him

Who was he to say no?

He went through everything his species does during mating season

He explains that you will have to be under water for an extended period of time

That he can bite and scratch

Donnie really really wants to make sure you're okay with everything that might happen

This is a huge step in your relationship

It doesn't matter how long you've been together, Donnie would never ask you to be with him during this time

You can tell it's starting because he gets more affectionate

Normally kissing your neck more

He talks about the way you smell

But when the time comes, you're there with him

He made sure there were things for you to do, things for your safety

Like oxygen for you when you're underwater

He made a really big nest for you

When you see it, he grins like a little kid

He made it for you after all

If you don't show that you like it, he'll tear it apart and restart

Donnie bites a lot

He does accidently scratch you a bit, but that was just because he was trying to hold on

He's also fiercely protective

He growls and snaps at literally anything

When he sleeps, he's wrapped around you, not allowing you to leave

You're his

When mating season is over Donnie is affectionate

He feels so bad for biting and scratching you

Being rougher than normal

He'll try to convince you not to join him again

Leo

Obviously there were still precautions

Can't have the boss going feral now can we?

Leo tried not to show when it's coming on, opting to remove you from the situation completely

But it doesn't work, he needs you too bad

Leo gets overly touchy

He taps your butt, your hips, your chest, your neck, your face

He whispers in your ears about how good you look, how you smell, how soft your skin is

The few nights before his rut actually starts, he's goes at it with everything he has

He mumbles about how pretty you are under/on top of him

But he keeps it passionate, not rough

When his rut actually starts it's a different story

He's loud

Moaning, whimpering, and... yes, talking

Leo is rough, but tries to make it pleasurable for you too

He's still a talker even when not in the middle of coitus

The tapping becomes a bit harder, more consistent

Mostly tapping your face, hips, and butt

He still whispers in your ears, but its more about what he wants to do to you, how pretty you look while he takes you

Leo bites a little, he still has some control of himself

If he feels like he's going to bite, he'll find something else to bite

The nest he builds is relatively small, but so comfy since he's allowed to have pillows and bulky blankets

When it's over, you better believe this man is worshipping your body

He'll cover any bite or scratch in kisses, making sure you feel loved beyond measure

Mikey

Since he's gotten older, it's gotten a bit worse

He's still pretty normal, but he can get territorial

Someone touches you (even by accident) or is talking to you?

You might wanna take him back to your room

He gets hot, literally since his ninpo is fire based

Mikey acts pretty normal until something happens to you (like stated above)

It's best if people stay away from you, especially his brothers

Leo has had a scar on his right arm (cause that's his prosthetic now) from Mikey attacking him after he helped you with something

Why specifically his brothers?

Because they're turtles too and they're too much like him so what if they try to steal you

That's Donnie's theory at least

The nest he builds is comfy and warm

He really likes having you in it all the time so it stays warm

He'll crawl in and snuggle with you, letting our tiny chuffs

He's not a biter at all during rut

Mikey does scratch a little, but its more when he's trying to hold on

He still has a lot of control, so he tends to be very loving and passionate

But on his bad days, he's slightly worse than Leo

He defiantly still talks, overall he's almost completely normal except for the territorial and protective aspect

Afterwards, he almost cries

No... He does cry over what he's done to you

He really needs reassurance that you're okay

Mikey will give you lots of cuddles and kisses a little while after they heal

Raph

He gets a bit like this

He also gets worse as he grows

Whereas when he was younger, he was pretty chill

Raph gets more territorial

People steer clear of both of you because of how big and scary Raph is

He tends to become a bit mindless, focusing on only you

He sniffs and nuzzles you, chuffing loudly

If anyone so much as looks at you, he growls and pulls you into him

His next is huge to fit his large body

When you see it, he pulls you into the nest, wanting to make sure you like it

It's not as bulky and soft as Leo or Mikey's but not as thin as Donnie's

He is a chaser, he will run after you

It's part of his species mating rituals

Though he does go slower than necessary due to how fast he is

Raph is a biter

The first few times, he bit you hard leaving a scar

Now he tries to get old tires, something else so he doesn't hurt you

He also scratches, trying to keep you close

When it's over, Raph will cry and apologize while he takes care of your wounds

He feels so bad

Like Donnie, he will also try to convince you not to join him again

[klara-v-klyare]

I've just re-watched Logan 2017 and I got a little upset. (Well, not a little, but I'm not talking about the movie).

In most of the fanfics I've read, and I've read something like 1500 completed ones on Deadpool & Wolverine because I have an obsessive hyperfixation like a disease...

Nevermind.

So. In these fanfics, Laura always remembers her Logan as a hero, a respectable father figure, etc. Although, in reality (in the movie), Logan initially behaved like a god damn fucking asshole, he didn't give a shit about Laura.

He was very tired, he saw that his body was tired too, it was not regenerating normally, he was bleeding, his claws did not come out all the way and made the wounds from them fester. He knew that he was getting poisoned by his own adamantium bones. And he just wanted to run away to nowhere in the middle of the ocean with Charles Xavier, the only person he respected who was still alive and for whom he was ready to take responsibility. But the professor had other beliefs his whole life, which Logan himself may have helped shape, if you go by the lore of the other movies. And that is to help and protect the younger mutants.

Logan is very tired, he's an alcoholic and suicidal, and he's just waiting for the end to come. But it was Charles who was his moral compass until the very end. Logan had hardened over the years of shit that happened to him, he was used to letting people go, getting over their deaths and moving on without an alternative. Yes, he freaked out after Xavier's death, because, probably, besides his brother, it was the longest (not exactly human, but you get it) contact in his life with another person who knew and understood and accepted him. And he didn't even want to get involved with Laura after that. Most of his heroism was that he finally died for what the person he respected so much believed in. He died for the idea of ​​a future for new young mutants. For the fact that they are not God's mistake.

And I'm glad that after this gut-wrenching drama, there's a relatively fun Deadpool movie where Logan's skeleton is used as a weapon in the opening credits fight. Where "the worst Wolverine" gives Laura a high five with the Dogpool paw. Where there's a happy ending for all of them in some other dimension. And I'm so grateful for that.

And honestly, I want someone to write a fanfic where Laura finally comes clean to the new Logan in her life about her dad, how he wasn't such a perfect hero and how he and other Wolverine are so much alike, how Laura only knew him for a short amount of time, a few days, and how "the worst Wolverine" shouldn't worry about the rivalry because the fact that he tries, and tries constantly, for a long time, and tries consistently, makes him the best in the world for her.

(Doesn't mean that she gotta forget her own father. Just that her Logan doesn't have a holy halo of heroic immunity. Both Woverines are the same as men who try and make mistakes, but they're still different.)

And no, I don't want someone to replace any other one. I just want them all to know that despite all the shit in the past they all have a chance to start over with each other, to let go of the past trauma and not compare what that they are and what they do and what they mean to each other to anything that happend before.

Let Laura have things. Let Laura have family. Let Laura have unkillable multiverse dads, who are not eaten alive by inner demons that they're not good enough. Why fucking not?

That's it.

(And fuck X-men movies timeline, it won't ever make sense, but I'm all in for the emotional side of this bullshit).

[lilywastaken]

⇝ cowboy .

Rodolfo Parra x Fem!AFAB!Reader.

SUMMARY: You don't like Rudy's new hat.

WARNINGS: NSFW!! Some fluffy moments<3.

A/N: Based on this image here! Finally got it out 😭 I'm going to pass out now good night! (Please reblog and comment it helps a lot!!!) Also not proofread, that'll have to wait till tomorrow 😭.

WORD COUNT: 3.5k.

Translations are at the end!

Also on ao3 !

MASTERLIST.

"What. Is. That."

"¿No te gusta?" Rodolfo chuckled, pinching the rim of the hay and running the fingers along it, adjusting it over his head of curls, the contrast between the sombrero and the boxers he was currently sporting enough to make you laugh. "Era de mi papá. Found it looking through my mom's attic."

"Rudy…" you trailed off, sucking in air through your teeth as you watched him admire himself in the mirror, a goofy smile plastered on his face. "I think it's the underwear that's not doing it for me."

You meant that innocently, of course. Imagining him in his normal clothes with the hat was way more attractive than whatever was going on right now, but by the way he turned towards you with a sparkle in his eye and his hands resting on his hips right above the elastic band of said underwear, he'd clearly taken it the dirty way.

"Oh? So you'd rather me without them?"

Your face went warm, rolling your eyes and turning around in your shared bed, clicking your tongue in annoyance. "You know I didn't mean it like that. Take it off and come to bed."

"Aguafiestas." He grumbled, balancing the hat carefully on top of the full length mirror before adjusting his underwear, climbing back into bed per request and wrapping his arms around you instantaneously. "My father told me that mom took one look at him in that hat and fell head over heels for him!"

"Yeah? Well your father lied, Rudy. Go to sleep."

"Ay, cómo me hieres, mi vida."

A few weeks passed before you saw him wear the damned hat again. It hung on the mirror where he'd left it, and it didn't move until some of his family came over to his house to celebrate one of his niece's birthdays, since of course, uncle Rudy had the biggest house and was always willing to have his family come over.

You were very fond of his family, as were they towards you, so you had no problem with them celebrating at your place since it was always a whole lot of fun, and you could just snuggle with your husband on one of the chairs they put outside and sip on a beer while chatting away with his relatives.

And that's exactly what you were doing, sitting on Rudy's lap in one of the plastic chairs his brother had brought over, running your fingers through his hair while he worked on finishing his second beer and entertained his smallest nephew, who's current fixation was apparently cowboys. And as luck would have it, Rudy was one (well, a self proclaimed one, you doubted he and Alejandro actually did any horse riding or used lassos back at base.), and the small boy had immediately taken a liking to him after his father had redirected him towards you both, no doubt wanting to get some peace with his own wife.

"And you wear hats? Like the movies?" The boy spoke, waving his hands around his head to further his point, gasping as Rudy nodded and slapped a hand down onto your thigh, your immediate response being to hit him in the chest.

"Así es. Shoot guns, too."

"Woah!" The little boy had sparkles in his eyes, which only brightened when his grandma came over and placed a hand on Rudy's shoulder, gesturing towards the house.

"How about you go show him the hat? I'm sure your dad would like to see you wear it too."

"Dale, ahora vuelvo." He grinned, pressing a kiss to your cheek (you didn't miss the cheeky look in his eye) before sliding out from under you, rushing back inside.

"He told me you fell for his dad as soon as you saw the hat." You commented over to his mother, taking the almost empty beer Rudy had left and finishing it off.

She snorted, waving her hand at you dismissively. "Ay, no, he looked ridiculous in it. Just didn't have the heart to tell him."

You deadpanned at her, not believing your ears. "So why'd you give it to Rudy?" You whined, making her laugh.

"Thought I'd enjoy seeing you suffer a bit, mija."

You threw your head back in exasperation, hitting it against the hard plastic of the chair as soon as you saw Rudy return with the hat on, whistling and compliments erupting from everyone as he quite basically sauntered back over to you, lifting you up and taking back his rightful spot with you on his lap, an unamused look on your face.

After entertaining his nephew for a bit, he turned back to you, arms wrapped around your waist and a sweet smile on his lips, his hands stroking at the warm skin your clothes didn't cover. "Ay, come on, it can't be that bad."

Well… he wasn't wrong. Although it still clashed a bit with the clothes he was currently wearing, you couldn't lie that it didn't look horrible on him, at least it wasn't one of the Mariachi hats you'd seen hung up at his dad's house the last time you went over.

You raised a hand to cup his cheek, face growing warm as he immediately leaned into you, eyes fluttering closed and a soft sigh leaving him, relaxing under your touch.

"It's… not awful." You murmured, bringing his face closer so you could press a short kiss to the tip of his nose. "Mi vaquero."

He laughed, tilting his head up to kiss you properly, pulling back after a bit and smiling. "Eso es, tu vaquero."

You spent the remaining hours of the night like that, perched on his lap sharing short chaste kisses with him, only stopping for him to get another beer or when his father came over to slam his hand onto Rudy's back, laughing boastfully about how he told him the hat worked.

And you were horrified to say, at the end of the night, that his father wasn't wrong.

Watching him clean up and wash the dishes with the hat still on, shouldn't have been as attractive as it was.

Some of his family still loitered outside, and watching Rudy with his hands on his waist like his mother usually did telling his brothers to make sure to clean after themselves before leaving was definitely one of the highlights of your night, but you didn't mind.

After throwing away some empty bottles, you passed the guest bathroom, stopping in your tracks as you saw Rudy standing in front of the mirror, rubbing at his stubble with a concentrated look.

"Howdy, cowboy." You said in an overly western accent, getting a laugh out of him as he turned to look at you. "What happened to our bathroom upstairs?"

"Oh, one of the kids spilled their drink all over themselves, my sister's cleaning them up." He explained with a shrug, watching you carefully as you walked in and closed the door behind you, hopping up onto the counter and sending him a wide smile. "¿Qué?"

"Nothing." You reached out a hand to brush against his cheek, warmth pooling in your tummy as he instantly melted into your touch, running your fingers over the five o'clock shadow he'd been sporting for a while. "You know… The hat's actually doing it for me."

The way his whole face brightened could've been enough to rival every single star in the galaxy.

"¿En serio?"

"En serio." You repeated with a smile, watching him slowly make his way between your legs, his warm hands running down your exposed thighs and making their home there, cockiness oozing out of him.

"Hmm… I told you it worked. You should be glad you're the only woman I've worn it around…" He joked, leaning in to continue the kisses you'd both been sharing across the night, letting you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer.

"Like anyone else would love you and your dorky hat the way I do." You teased, pulling down at his hat from the back and giggling as he furrowed his brows and pursed his lips in mock anger.

"Hmph." He stopped moving, leaving you to be the one continuing the kisses, stopping in your tracks when you realised you were the only one putting effort into your little makeout session.

"What?" You laughed, knowing his anger wasn't serious. "Little cowboy can't handle the truth?"

The condescending giggle and the way you pulled down at the front of his hat so it would cover his eyes turned his fake anger into a simmering irritation, the grip he had on your thighs tightening.

His cheeks burned from beneath the hat, although he couldn't lie that the spot around his crotch wasn't growing tighter, your mocking tone making him want to do nothing more than to bend you over the counter and teach you a lesson. Despite how rarely he got into this state of mind where all he wanted was to fuck you as roughly as he could, when he did, the only goal in his mind was to get you to a point where the only thing coming out of your mouth was his name.

And now, he knew it was a tiny bit ridiculous getting this worked up over some teasing jokes, but from past experience, he knew you never complained when he got like this.

"Oh, c'mon. Are you crying?" You snickered, flicking the brim of his hat up so you could see his eyes, ready to crack and start giggling when you would inevitably see his own face struggling not to laugh, but you froze in your tracks when you saw the way his eyes had darkened.

Oh.

Oh.

A pleasurable shiver ran down your spine as you realised what you'd gotten into, dropping your hands down to his that were still perched on your thighs, taking them and directing them to grab onto your waist, freezing as he pulled them back away from you and grabbed onto your thighs once again, wrapping them around his waist and pulling your along.

"¿Te crees graciosa, mi amor?"

You kept your mouth closed, slowly hooking your feet behind his back to keep him close, shaking your head at him.

"Shy all of a sudden? What happened to that snarky mouth of yours?" He grumbled, one of his hands coming down to slap at the top of your thighs, near your ass. "Think we can find a better way to keep it occupied that isn't insulting your poor husband?"

You immediately nodded, giddiness filling your body as you watched him step back and start unbuckling his belt, taking that as the clue to jump off the counter and slide to your knees, shuffling towards him and sitting down on your heels expectantly, looking up at him through your eyelashes as he unzipped his fly.

"Cálmate."

Despite the angry façade he was trying to keep up, he couldn't help the smile that pulled at his lips as soon as he held his cock out in front of you, the awestruck look that you wore never failing to boost his ego and make him giddy.

"Venga. You can touch."

As soon as those words had left his mouth, you took him into your own, enjoying the slight salty taste he had from having sat outside in the sun for so long, arms coming up to grab at his jeans as you took him all the way down to the base, eyes rolling into the back of your head as his hand grabbed at the back of your head, pushing your face into the tuft of curls that adorned the base of his beautiful cock.

"Ay… Así es, mi amor… good girl …"

You moaned at his praise, sending vibrations right up his spine and making him throw his head back, the feeling of your mouth drooling around his cock always a beautiful sight.

You pulled back, resorting to giving yourself a quick break and peppering kisses all over him, taking a few moments to press a few to his balls, knowing he was extra sensitive down there, before going back to training your throat to take him once again. It wasn't like you'd never had him in your mouth before, hell, you'd spend all day between his legs if you could, but you were never fully able to get used to his massive size, always slightly struggling when giving him a blowjob and when taking him normally.

"Ay, que linda te ves…" He sighed, brushing some strands of your hair away from your eyes so he could gaze into them properly, thighs stuttering as you gagged around him, closing his eyes and taking a few deep breaths to regain his proper mindset. "Okay, come on… Dios, I need to fuck you so badly."

You seemed to have forgotten who'd been in charge a few moments back due to how his tone had changed back to his normal, sweet one that he used during soft sex, completely ignoring his request and continuing to slide his cock down your throat, fingers running over the sensitive base and massaging his balls.

He growled, throwing his head back and indulging you for a few more moments before finally grasping at your hair and forcibly pulling you back, looking down at your tear and drool stained face as you both regained your breath.

"I told you to stop. Can't listen to a single thing I say, huh? Let's see if you get this one, then. Arriba."

You immediately got up as he tugged at your hair upwards, not rough enough to hurt, but hard enough to convey the message.

He met you with a sloppy kiss, not even caring that you'd been sucking his dick mere moments ago, just needing to have your lips against his.

"Venga, venga." He murmured as he tried pulling away, but got too distracted on how pretty you sounded while he kissed you dumb, hands grabbing at your waistband so he could pull down your shorts while distracting you with his breathtaking kiss. "Up." He breathed out once your shorts were lying on the ground, raising your arms so he could easily tug your shirt off and wrench off your bra, hands immediately grabbing at your breasts, thumb and pointer finger pulling and tugging at your nipples until they were hard and sore.

"Oww, Rudy…" you whined against his lips, crying out as he grabbed you by the hair again and moved you both back to the counter, carefully yet still roughly bending you over and pushing your flushed face against the cool marble.

"Stay." He snapped, slapping at you ass when he saw you try to squirm, tugging at his cock a few more times with a few breathless moans before deeming himself ready enough, pushing aside your panties to reveal your sopping wet hole. "No mames… You're fucking soaking, mi vida…"

You whined in embarrassment, trying to move away from his burning gaze but only getting another slap to the ass instead.

"Ay, nothing to be embarrassed about…" He cooed, smiling at the loud moan that left your lips as soon as his cock pressed against your entrance. "Makes me feel real happy that you're this turned on because of me."

Without even letting you reply, he pushed right in, the sound that left you akin to a scream and muffling the moan that escaped him.

"Rudy!" You cried out, tears bordering your eyes as you pulsed around him, whimpering once his hands landed on your waist and he leaned down to kiss all over your back, rubbing his stubble against your skin with a snicker to watch you squirm.

"Yeah, it's me… Come on, you tell me…" He murmured between soft kisses, despite the bad guy stance he'd taken at the beginning still worried about your wellbeing and enjoyment during, waiting for you to adjust so he could pound into you.

After a few moments of deep breaths and getting used to his cock pressing deep against you (also enjoying the soft kisses he was peppering all over your skin), you let out a small whimper, grinding your ass back onto his cock and waiting for him to get the gist.

And when he did, oh, his hand landed over your tailbone, using that as leverage to pull out and slam back in, your body jolting at the sudden intrusion and the weird feeling of your tits rubbing against cold marble, the warm sensation your husband was causing down there contrasting with how cold your upper body felt when pressed to the cool counter.

"So, so good!!" You praised with a cry, one of his hands grabbing at your wrists and tugging the back, holding them together as he continued to slam in and out of you, the head of his cock almost always hitting that one spot he'd memorised by now, feeling every single ridge and vein rub against your insides in the best way possible. "So good, Rudy!!'

"Yeah? That good, mi vida?" He moaned out, rolling his hips to get deeper and to pull a crying mewl out of you, chuckling as he saw the drool dribbling down your mouth and onto the counter. "¿Tan solo empezamos y ya estás tontita?"

His knees pushed your legs further apart, giving him more space to ram his cock into and make you see stars, body shaking around his cock as you both got closer to the edge despite his initial remarks, the rough feeling of his cock battering your insides enough to get you both to your orgasms quicker than usual.

"'m- gonna-"

"Sí, ya sé. You can do it, amor… Cum for me, okay?" He whimpered, his free hand coming down to where you both connected to find your clit, rubbing his thumb against in the way he knew would drive you crazy, smiling sweetly as you looked over your shoulder to make eye contact with him, almost rolling your eyes out of exasperation when you saw the hat still sitting on his now dishevelled curls. "Still here."

Whether he was talking about the hat or himself, you didn't know.

Once the knot inside of you had snapped, and your walls had tightened around his cock, juices squirting around his cock and staining his crotch, he finally gave himself the liberty to cum, letting your wrists go and grabbing onto your ass, using it as leverage to quickly rutt into you, biting down onto his tongue as you made no move to stop him from cumming inside, heart rate spiking as he got more and more excited to finish inside, making eye contact with you once again while he was about to near his release only to see the dumbstruck smile that pulled at your lips, as if you were explicitly waiting for him to finish inside.

That was enough to have his eyes rolling back and his hips stuttering, pressing himself deep inside you and letting himself go, his seed filling you and almost immediately overflowing, your combined juices leaking out of you despite his cock acting like a plug.

"Got a bit excited there, huh?" You said through deep breaths, mentioning the way you'd seen him grin almost manically as he thought about cumming inside. "Degenerate."

"Cállate." He laughed, taking his own deep breath as he leaned over and pressed your lips together, hat sliding off his head and hitting your forehead. "Ay, perdón."

You slapped his hands away before he could take it, pushing him away and forcing him to pull out in the process, allowing you to finally turn around and sit down on the counter like you had before, taking the hat into your hands and placing it messily over your dishevelled hair.

"How'd I look?" You laughed, leaning your sweaty body against the mirror and closing your eyes out of exhaustion.

A beat.

"Rudy?"

Silence.

You cracked one eye open, jaw falling open as your eyes landed on his once again hard cock, unbelieving that he'd gotten turned on after such a session just by seeing you in his hat.

"Oh my god, Rudy. How are you-"

You both froze as the door to the upstairs bathroom opened, listening to his sister and her son talk all the way downstairs and disappear into the backyard, turning back to each other as soon as silence reigned again.

You squealed as he lunged towards you, grabbing at your plush thighs and letting yourself wrap around his body, arms and legs clinging onto him as he didn't even bother to grab at your discarded clothing, slamming the bathroom door open and loudly running upstairs with you in his arms, not wanting to accidentally flash anyone.

You laughed as you both landed on your shared bed, hat still somehow intact as he pulled it off you, putting it back on with a goofy grin.

"How about a second round, mi vida?"

¿No te gusta? — You don't like it?

Era de mi papá. — It was my dad's.

Aguafiestas. — Spoilsport.

Ay, cómo me hieres. — Oh, how you wound me.

Dale, ahora vuelvo. — Alright, I'll be right back.

¿En serio? — Seriously?

¿Te crees graciosa? — You think you're funny?

Cálmate. — Calm down.

Qué linda te ves. — You look so beautiful.

Arriba. — Up.

¿Tan solo empezamos y ya estás tontita? — We just started and you've already gone stupid?

[theblue6ook]

A Mundane Day

Summary: Is it ever really mundane office life as Bruce Wayne’s assistant? Bruce saves Y/N’s brothers from suspension.

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x fem!reader

a/n: Hello, hello. I hope everyone enjoys this fic. If I forgot to add you to the tag list please let me know! Enjoy :) [B (23) Y/N (22)] [Eventual slow burn with Bruce] [Y/N/N is your nickname]

It was 3 pm. Bruce stretched, rising from his desk chair, with a groan. If he was lucky, he could take a nap before his night shift. Glancing at his desk, he sighed at the files there. A mix of his cases with Bane and Wayne Enterprise documents. He felt like groaning as he sorted them out and threw his case files into his briefcase. Pulling the Wayne Enterprise documents into a stack, he slipped a paperclip at the top to secure it.

It had been a relatively boring day. There weren't many meetings or executives to debate with, just lots of paperwork. Everyone was getting ready for the next quarter, and the files were coming in hot. Not to mention, he and Y/N hadn’t been the most comfortable around each other. After her broken engagement and falling asleep in each other's arms, it was like walking on eggshells. No one knew where the other stood, and Y/N had just become single. Bruce didn’t want to be that guy. So, they were lightly stepping around each other, waiting for the other to crack.

It sounds so immature or superficial to think about with everything else going on in his life. Paperwork, cases, and patrol, and here he is worrying about how to interact with a girl. How old is he, fifteen? But still, he couldn't help himself but think back to her body. How it molded against his, pressed chest to chest, with knees knocking. The sweats she wore still smell like her. It made him want to dunk himself in cold water. Tell himself to forget it. After what happened to Rachel, he knew he shouldn't. She barely made it away from him with her life, and she was lucky all she got was feargassed. Y/N deserved better than that.

Stepping out of his office and into Y/N's. She sat quietly at her desk with her blue light glasses tucked into her hair, knawing on a red pen. She was in intense focus. He silently handed her his stack of files, and she quietly mumbled a thank you, still focused on the work in front of her. Bruce moved to the coat rack to slip on his jacket with mild difficulty. Last night, he tried following one of Bane's freighter trucks. It had not gone well for him.

Finally, he shrugged the coat on in one motion, trying to minimize the pain as much as he could, while hoping to appear as normal as possible. Y/N glanced up at him as he prepared to leave, but once he shrugged his coat on, his button-down shirt slipped forward, and a bruise appeared bright and uncovered. 

The bruise was a bright, ugly purple that took up a large chunk of his collarbone and peck. Her eyes widened, "Oh my god, Bruce."

Bruce smiled lightly, playfully rolling his eyes. She used his first name. It never happened much unless she was either outstandingly pleased or uncomfortably serious. Bruce loved it and would take it either way, especially since it broke the silence. 

Y/N rounded the desk in a flash and took him by the collar. She pulled his face down to her level, trying to get a good view of the bruise. Bruce again rolled his eyes, trying to act like it was no big deal. Slowly, he worked to pull away, but she manhandled him, pulling him back down harder, popping the top button on his shirt. He tried to act oblivious, "Y/N, what are you doing? You know, if anyone else did this, it would be harassment." 

Y/N watched the bruise silently, with her brows furrowed. She looked over the top of his shoulder down to his peck. Without thinking ahead, she stuck out her hand and placed her cold palm on his warm chest. He tensed. At the temperature or her touch, she wasn't sure, but she smoothed her hand over the bruise. It was like ink had stained his skin. She looked up at him, frowning. He was closer than she thought, her nose almost hitting his chin. "What is this?"

“A bruise,” he stated plainly. Her eyebrow rose, and Bruce sighed, “I’ve been spelunking.”

“Spelunking?” she said quickly, “What is spelunking?”

“A rich man's sport.”

“Mr.Wayne-”

“It’s cave exploration,” he admitted, smirking down at her. 

“If people belonged in caves, they would be there,” she was interrupted by a harsh ring. Pausing, she looked up at him once more, “This conversation is not over. You stay there.”

He thought about making his exit, but she would no doubt follow him whether she was on the phone, or not.

She cleared her throat, “Bruce Wayne’s office this is Y/N… Yes, this is she… What? You’re kidding… Yes, yes I understand. I’ll be there as soon as I can… Okay, thank you.”

Covering her face with her hands, she groaned. She moved on quickly, though, shoving files in her bag. “What’s going on?”

“It’s nothing.” Bruce raised his eyebrow at her, and she looked over her shoulder at him, “My brothers are in the principal's office. I have to go pick them up and talk to the office about it. If I leave now, I can catch the bus-”

"I can drive you-"

"That's really not necessary-"

"Y/N, don't be ridiculous. Come on." He walked out of their office with a swagger, as if she didn't just catch the bruise on his collarbone and she really had no choice but to follow him. 

"Didn't Alfred drop you off?" she called after him, "I don't want to bother him."

"No," he laughed, "I can drive myself, you know."

They took the elevator down to the garage, and in his own personal spot was a four-seat, scissor-door Gordan Murray. Y/N had only heard about this car. It was over two million dollars, in a sparkling black that reflected blue in the sun. Oh, she wanted to drive that car.

He looked behind him and flipped her door open, "You getting in?"

She didn't know what to do but laugh. Come on he mumbled grabbing her bag and slipping it in the back before she got in the car. He closed it behind her like a gentleman. The interior was a mix of black and white leather. The seats were peak comfort and she wondered if this was what heaven was like.

The car rode like a beauty and they sat in blissful silence for some time. She saw Bruce glancing at her every now and then, curiously. She finally said, “What’s up?”

Truth be told, he was observing her. He needed to see if he had crossed a line when he pulled her into his arms. All he wanted to do was blurt out did I make you uncomfortable? Would you do it again? But everything in his head told him it would only lead to disaster, so he opted to ask a different question. “Two brothers then?”

“Two brothers in trouble,” she replied. 

“Parents couldn’t help out?”

Y/N laughed dryly, “I’m their guardian and emergency contact when it comes to school. We keep Frank out of it.”

“Frank?”

She sighed and spoke cooly, “My dad.”

Her cool tone seemed annoyed by the topic, but Bruce could tell her body language was anxious. Nodding silently, he decided not to pry. Bruce wasn’t even sure where he stood with Y/N, he’d rather not test his luck asking questions about her family, so they rode once again in blissful silence.

Pulling into the school parking lot, Bruce pulled Y/N’s hand away from the door handle and moved out of the car to open the door for her. He had another pleasant memory of his mother, be a gentleman, Brucie, pop into his head. It had become second nature to him now. As Y/N stepped out of the car, she noticed Bruce stepped with her toward the school. Turning to him, she said, “You don’t have to come with me.”

“I drove you here,” he said. She narrowed her eyes at him and he shrugged. “Honestly, I’m kind of in it now.” 

Y/N huffed, turning to reluctantly walk inside, and Bruce followed after her. Y/N knew if she really pushed, he would have stayed by the car, but she didn’t even feel like arguing. She had enough on her mind. Fighting, she thought, I’m gonna kill them. Buzzing into the office, she turned quickly to him, pointing at one of the chairs sat in the office lobby, “You can sit there.” 

“Whatever you want. I’m here for moral support,” Bruce replied as he plopped into one of the plastic, cushioned seats.

Liar, Y/N thought as she approached the receptionist's desk. The receptionist, an older woman with a shorter, choppy haircut, had given Y/N the basic rundown of what happened, but it felt like a few details were missing. Some boys were arguing over an article with Carl, and it caused a little tiff between them when Lucas got involved, and that’s when the… physical violence started, she had relayed to Y/N. What article? Why did Lucas get involved? Who was Carl fighting with? It wasn’t making sense. 

“You can follow me,” she said. She moved behind the desk to lead her over to the principal's office, but not before glancing over at Bruce Wayne and looking back towards Y/N with a curious look. Y/N mumbled, confused, “After you.”

Bruce had sat nice and close to the entrance of the principal's office. He wanted to be in range if Y/N needed anything. Not that she would, but just in case. God, what is wrong with him?

“Why would you fight him?” she scolded, sharply.

He could hear her brother try to defend himself, “He needed help!”

So, that must be Lucas.

“He needs mental help,” she teased back. “Seriously, you’re already on your third strike. What’s going on?”

“They were talking shit about you,” Bruce could hear who he could only assume was Carl mumble. That’s my cue.

It seemed as if Bruce had manifested in the doorway, “What’d they said about your sister?”

“What are you doing in here?!” she bellowed at him. Bruce took in the situation. Y/N was squatted in front of her brothers, who sat in similarly uncomfortable cheap chairs as they had in the lobby. She had her hands placed on their forearms, in a comforting manner. The oldest one, Lucas, looked like he was maturing well. He could see similarities between him and Y/N, but for the most part, he had his own individual look. His eyes were bordering on sunken in, and his cheek sported black and blue from his fight earlier. The second boy Y/N was with had to be Carl. He looked younger and impressionable. He clung to Y/N’s arm as if she hung the moon and sported a black eye and busted lip. Not only that, he was the spitting image of Y/N, but that wasn’t even the most shocking part. There at the desk was no one. No principal. Not a single person. 

“Where is your principal?” he responded, unbothered.

Carl stared up at Bruce Wayne flabbergasted, “Holy shit.”

“Don’t swear,” Y/N said with clenched teeth. “You need to go sit in the lobby-”

“Sorry, I’m late, Ms.Y/L/N,” the principal stepped in. “I had to settle a matter with the other student.” Their principal, a stout man with a slick combover, looked over at Bruce Wayne with what seemed to be slight shock and then a knowing look. He cleared his throat and gestured to the two empty chairs. “Please sit down. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr.Wayne.”

“I’m sorry he really doesn’t need to be here-”

“No, it’s fine,” he said, interrupting her. Bruce looked over at Y/N and gestured his hand for her to sit first. She was embarrassed enough as it was, she really didn’t want him to hear about her dysfunctional family here, at her brothers' school, of all places. 

“I’m sorry,” Y/N broke the silence, “Where are the other student's parents? I’d like to speak to them about this whole situation.”

“Well, that would be me, Ms.Y/L/N.” You have got to be fucking kidding me. Y/N looked over at Bruce in disbelief. Should the principal be handling situations his own son is involved in? She certainly didn’t think so. 

“Don’t you think that’s a little inappropriate,” Bruce started, “to be handling your own child’s punishment? Regarding the situation, I mean.” Y/N gave him a sideways glance telling him it wasn’t his place to butt in, but he seemed to ignore it.

“Mr.Wayne,” the principal seemed to become defensive quickly, “I don’t suggest you put your nose into other people's business. These aren’t your kids.” Wasn’t he the one to tell Bruce to sit in? Y/N became visibly annoyed.

“As a donator,” Bruce smirked, and Y/N felt her ears perk up, “I just can’t support a school that handles issues in such a way. You understand?”

The principal’s face turned white, and every negative feeling Y/N had about Bruce Wayne, had dissipated. She could kiss him on the mouth.

Oh, he was good. He was so good at getting around people, getting exactly what he wanted to be. She felt a sigh of relief leave her chest, and Bruce placed a knowing hand on her knee. He was letting her know, I’ve got you. 

-

After the sour meeting with Carl and Lucas's principal, Y/N had suggested she and the boys take the bus home, despite her brother's protests. Bruce simply wouldn't allow it; he had other plans for the four of them. So here they all sat at Lucy’s Pancakes, a breakfast diner near the office. Y/N couldn’t even be bothered to be annoyed with the change in plans after Bruce’s stunt earlier. Her brothers might have been suspended if he hadn’t stepped in.

So she pleasantly ate her Choc-O-Chunk pancakes sitting across from Bruce Wayne, who looked like peak domesticity. He gave his full attention to her brothers, answering their every question and whim. With his shirt slightly unbuttoned and his sleeves rolled up, she couldn't help but grin. It was all too sweet.

Her brothers threw all kinds of questions at him. 

How much was your car?

What do you even do?

How did you meet our sister?

How much money do you have?

How many girls have you dated?

“So you broke up Y/N and Russ huh? I’d call it an upgrade.”

Y/N swore her head had completely swiveled when Carl asked that question. Bruce looked up at her, unsure how he should respond. He had to remind himself it wasn't his place, but he found himself shaking his head anyway. Y/N raised her eyebrows, "Carl, what?! No-"

Bruce cleared his throat and slipped out of the booth, "I think I should go pay the check."

Y/N couldn't help but feel so embarrassed, watching Bruce head toward the cashier. "Okay, not funny, Carl. What are you talking about?"

“You didn’t see the article?” he asked.

"That asshole kid was saying you were Bruce Wayne's bitch," Lucas said angrily, "Carl headbutted him."

"The article in the Daily Planet,” Carl handed her his cracked iPhone. There on the screen was her and Bruce at her birthday dinner. Y/N was photographed with Bruce’s arm on her bare waist, fingertips dipping into her dress. He was whispering in her ear in the picture, and she blushed about as red as her dress, but other than that, she looked good. It was the headline that shocked her. Bruce Wayne Breaks Up Assistant’s Engagement By Lois Lane. She snatched the phone out of her brother's hand. 

Bruce Wayne’s assistant, Y/F/N Y/L/N, was seen at The Ocelot wearing her engagement ring, but where was it the next day? Bruce Wayne might be the answer. 

Sources say the bachelor's assistant was involved in a four-year engagement with her high school sweetheart, Danny Russell. After witnesses saw Wayne mingling with Y/L/N in the Ocelot, the assistant appeared ringless as she walked into Wayne Enterprises the next day. Sounds like a classic romance trope to me-

“This is bullshit,” Y/N read.

“I dunno,” Lucas spoke pointing to the picture. “You look pretty close there.”

She slapped his hand out of the way, “Bruce is not the reason I’m done with Russ-”

“Your sister was lucky to dump that cheater,” Bruce emerged again, placing a tip down on the table. 

Carl turned toward Y/N for confirmation. Once he realized it was true, his eyes turned cold, “I’ll burn his house down.”

“He couldn’t afford a house and even if he could it’s none of your business,” she spoke pushing Carl’s head down, “now eat your pancakes.”

@pastelsweaters-and-bubble-t @mariadvorak @100520s @st0rmyt @maxinehufflepuffprincess @padsfirewhisky @moejoeflow @pank0w @qardasngan

[nhlclover]

𝐅𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐂𝐋𝐔𝐁 | 𝐑𝐔𝐓𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐂𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐘

summary: your boyfriend and his friends drunkenly create their own little fight club, in which he winds up getting hurt.

warnings: blood, mentions of fighting, mentions of drinking, slight angst, indications of nsfw content.

note: fun fact this is what my brother and his friends do for fun. they have their own walk up songs and everything.

word count: 0.9k

It was somewhere around midnight, or around when you finished page 4 of 8 of your paper, that you heard the crash and shouting from downstairs.

You needed somewhere to get your paper done, and with your roommate's boyfriend in town and the library closed at this hour, you turned to your boyfriend. He lended you his room while him and his roommates hung out downstairs.

They had been relatively quiet until a couple of minutes ago when the shouting started. You assumed they were playing video games, getting competitive as they normally do, however the crash was making you think something was wrong.

You set your laptop down, making your way out of Rutgers room and down to the living room where the boys were hanging out. As you turn the corner, you run smack into Ethan, coming out of the kitchen holding a wet rag.

“Oh, hey y/n!” He says, his voice louder and higher pitched than normal.

You are immediately suspicious, narrowing your eyes at the boy. “What’s going on? I heard a crash.” You ask.

“Nothing, just… spilled a drink is all.” Ethan says. You almost want to believe him but a sudden shout from the living room that sounds like your boyfriend makes you hesitate.

“Ow! Don’t touch it!” Rutger shouts.

You push past Ethan, going into the living room. On the coffee table are several bottles of beer, along with hockey helmets and boxing gloves. Sitting on the couch with a bright red gash on his left cheek, is your shirtless boyfriend, Dylan on one side and Frank on the other.

“What the hell is going on in here?” You ask. Ethan comes in after you, walking to Rutger to hand him the rag.

“Busted.” Mark says, standing beside the fireplace, sans shirt but wearing boxing gloves and a hockey helmet.

You look around noticing all of them shirtless, some wearing boxing gloves. “Okay what the fuck is going on?” You ask, now concerned more than anything.

“Hey babe.” Rutger smiles. He winces as his cheek muscles move. “How’s the paper coming?”

“Don’t change the subject.” You say.

“Okay, we had this really great idea that we would box but wear hockey helmets so our faces wouldn’t get fucked up.” Gavin explained. “But Roger here didn’t attach his helmet properly cause it slipped off, cutting his cheek when Mark gave him a sweet right hook.”

A look of horror appears on your face as you recognize the situation. “So you guys got drunk and decided to form your own fight club?” You ask.

There’s a beat of silence then all the boys nod, exhibiting a chorus of ‘yeah’s.

You shake your head in disbelief. “I am fully convinced none of you graduated kindergarten because what is wrong with you guys?”

They sense your disappointment, all of them hanging their heads slightly. You walk over to your boyfriend, taking the damp rag from his hand.

“C’mere.” You say, taking his hand and bringing him to the bathroom.

You re-wet the rag, dabbing it against the cut. He winces, pulling away. “Oh don’t be a baby, it's just water.” You say.

“Yeah…but it still hurts.” He mumbles.

He meets your eyes, reading the disappointed look on your face. “I’m sorry.” He says.

“Yeah, you should be!” You say, the fear that had manifested into anger spilling out. “Do you know how stupid this is?”

“It was just… a drunk idea.” Rutger shrugged.

“Exactly. What are you going to tell coach Naur when he asks where you got the cut on your cheek from? Are you gonna tell him that you got drunk and fought your teammates?” You ask.

“I didn’t plan to get my face all chopped up!” Rutger counters.

You step back, sighing. “I just… please be smarter?”

Your words seem harsh but Rutger understands what you’re saying. “I know. I'm sorry.” He says.

“I’m sorry too.” You say. “I was too snappy.”

“No it’s warranted. We were being idiots.” Rutger chuckles.

“You were being such an idiot.” You laugh, going back to cleaning his wound.

“I may be an idiot but at least I’m your idiot.”

You snort. “You really know how to talk your way out of trouble.”

“Hey, it works.” Rutger says, throwing his hands up in defense.

You clean away the rest of the blood, dabbing it dry. “You’ll need to go and get a proper bandage for it tomorrow.” You say.

“Or I don’t and I get a cool scar out of it.” Rutger says, checking out the cut in the mirror.

“No. No scar.” You shake your head.

“What? I thought scars were hot and mysterious?” Rutger asks.

You find yourself not being able to disagree with his statement, biting the inside of your cheek. You turn on the sink, cleaning the rag of your boyfriend’s blood.

“Oh I knew it.” Rutger smirks. He snakes his arms around your waist, making eye contact through the mirror.

He slowly places kisses up the nape of your neck, leaning around to place more on your jaw. You tilt your head, giving him better access.

His lips unlatch from your skin, you whimpering from the lack of contact. “How about a break from your essay?”

The pair of you exit from the bathroom, you sticking your head into the living room. “Sorry boys, the fight club is over. We’re heading to bed.” You tell them.

Rutger barely waits for you to finish your sentence before he hands your waist, yanking you back into the hall and towards the stairs. You let out a shriek as you’re pulled into his arms.

“Are you guys switching to wrestling now?” Mark shouts after you.

You guys ignore him and the rest of the boys jeering after you, stumbling your way up the stairs.