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astermath · 1 year

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“So? Whatever.”

pairing: dave lizewski x popular!fem!reader

summary: The preppy girl that just about everyone admires has more in common with Dave than he expects. He doesn’t quite know how to handle this information, but it excites him nonetheless.

word count: 2K

♡ LANDING PAGE♡

notes: I haven’t written something like this in a good while, so please bear with me if I’m rusty or there are some mistakes here and there. Reader is referred to with she/her pronouns, I tried to be as non descriptive as possible about her appearance. I do love writing a bit of a mean reader like this, but don’t worry, she’ll warm up to him. This fic takes place in senior year for age purposes, I’m pretty much fully ignoring the timeline of the film. Comments and/or requests are super welcome btw!! Hope you enjoy!! <3

(ps this will get a part two don’t worry xx)

To Dave, girls like you were unreachable. You could hear about them, you could listen to them talk in the hallways, sneak a glance their way… But talk to them? Any single one of their group would consider that social suicide. The only reason any of them even looked in his direction was to ask him to do their homework. So why in god’s name were you at his locker? Why were you acknowledging his existence at all?

“What’s that?” You leaned against the locker next to his, pointing at the piece of a comic book panel he’d taped to the door. It pictured Spider-man putting on his mask for the first time, something Dave looked to when he needed some motivation for the day.

He struggled to get basically any words out, still not fully registering that you’re within such close range. He could smell you… God that was really weird to think about, he felt like a creep already, but you just… Smelled really nice. Like vanilla, mixed with something sweet. He realized he hadn’t answered your question yet and was just staring in front of him like a weirdo. “O-Oh, yeah, that’s uh… That’s Spider-man. It’s this… This superhero I like.” He adjusted the strap of his backpack to keep his hands busy.

You smiled and rolled your eyes. “Duh, I know who Spider-man is, please.” You couldn’t help but think he was doing anything to avoid looking into your eyes, as if you’d turn him to stone if he dared to do so. Which, yes, was exactly how he felt.

“I wanted to know which comic that was from. The art style looks a lot different than the ones I’ve seen.” Now this part was pretty much making his teenage brain short circuit. He probably didn’t hear that right, there’s no way a popular girl like you read comics, right? This had to be some kind of elaborate joke, like you were trying to pull a prank on him by making him ramble about his favorite superheroes. However, he wasn’t close minded. Even if this was a prank, at least you were talking to him, right?

“Yeah, sorry, I uh… Forget he’s a pretty popular character sometimes. This one’s from a collector’s edition. One of the pages was kinda falling apart so I just… Taped my favorite panel to my locker.” Again, he tried to look anywhere else, but it felt rude not to be making eye contact with the person who’s trying to give you a chance at a conversation. His eyes met yours and he realised he hadn’t ever actually seen you up close like this. You were really pretty, he knew that, but he never noticed these particular things about you before. The way your hair framed your features so nicely, the little beauty mark that seemed to be somehow perfectly placed, or the way a dimple appeared on your right cheek when you smiled.

“Hopefully you didn’t pay too much for it, those things cost like, a fortune.” You followed, snapping him out of his haze as you twirled a piece of hair between your index and middle finger. Dave was much taller than you, so you had to look up to match his gaze, which was already hard since he kept avoiding your eyes. You never realized how much he’d matured since freshman year. He looked pretty cute… Really cute, actually.

“S-So, uhm, I really don‘t wanna be rude, but…” He closed his locker before looking at you with a rather awkward expression. “Why are you here? Why are you… talking to me?” Honestly, not an unjustified question. Dave was often the subject of bullying, and the popular girls clique made no exception to that rule. He doesn’t remember you specifically doing anything, although... He has a vague memory of you being in the car with those jocks when they threw spoiled milk at him.

“What? A girl can’t talk to her fellow classmate? This is a free country, you know.” You pretended to be a little hurt by his assumption that you were probably just here to make fun of him. In all honesty he was still a little dumbfounded by this whole ordeal, and the fact that half the people that passed you were giving you two weird looks really wasn’t helping. “You know I sit behind you in English, right?” He responds by nodding. He is painfully aware of this fact, as your friends had expressed their empathy for you when your seat was assigned behind him, though you honestly didn’t mind. And also the fact that he got a fair share of gossip from you and your best friend always whispering to each other. “Well,” you flipped a bit of hair over your shoulder. “I saw you had a copy of Birth of Venom in your backpack, and I... Wanted to ask if I could borrow it...” You looked to the side, muttering the last part. As much as you tried not to care what people thought, you did have a bit of a reputation that you were stuck to. Liking comics wasn’t for you, you were a cheerleader, you went to parties, you liked shopping. Okay, you secretly liked comics.

Dave looked at you with a puzzled expression. “I-I’m sorry, can you repeat tha--”

“Can I borrow your stupid comic or what?” You interrupted him, clearly looking a bit embarrassed.

“Oh!” His face was getting hot, this conversation was lasting way longer than he imagined it would. Usually he’d have his face shoved into his locker by now. “U-Uhm, sure! It’s a bit expensive, but... Well, just don’t damage it, please.” He took his backpack off his shoulder and was about to pull it out before you grabbed his arm.

“Not here you dumbass! Just, like... Ugh, meet me at my car after school’s over, you can hand it to me then.” You were acting like this was some kind of illegal drug deal, but this truly was something important to you. Your dad had already made it very clear that he didn’t want his little girl becoming some kind of tomboy and have her mind run rampant with superhero stories. Especially with this Kickass guy running around...

The bell rang and you silently thanked it for doing so. “Look, I gotta go. White Corvette, by the vending machines.” You walked past him, and a waft of that lovely vanilla scent hit his nose. He damn near melted into the floor when your arm brushed against his. “Later, Lizewksi.”

You leaned against the hood of your car, scrolling on your phone as you waited for the brunette to show up. You couldn’t help but feel a little guilty that you were just meeting him in secret like this. It’s not like you were embarrassed to be seen with him, or that you didn’t like him, it’s just that liking comics and superheroes was just about the dorkiest thing anyone could be into. Especially with Kickass running around, and, well, kicking ass, people would probably be thinking you’d be into this whole vigilante business yourself. Sure, you thought it was cool that people were doing something about all the crime, but you’d rather die than mess up your hair beating some thug’s ass.

You noticed someone approaching and noticed that Dave wasn’t alone. With a bit of a disgusted expression, you gestured to his two sidekicks. “I don’t remember inviting the entire geek entourage to come see me. This isn’t some kinda meet and greet, you know.” Todd and Marty seemed, just like Dave before, a little shocked that you were talking to them.

“S-Sorry, they just uh...” Dave began.

“We didn’t believe him.” Todd followed.

“...believe what?” You questioned, crossing your arms.

“That a chick like you was into comics.” Marty said, before Todd smacked him on the back of the head. “Dude! Don’t say it like that!”

You got a bit flustered, and looked at Dave. “You told them!? What the fuck, Lizewski?”

“I-I’m sorry!” He held up his hands. “They were asking me what we were talking about, and... I panicked.” They were more so insinuating that he was flirting with her, and he didn’t want that rumor going around, in case your jock brother caught wind of that and beat his ass for flirting with his sister.

You sighed, looking down and pinching the bridge of your nose before waving your hand out in a dismissive manner. “It’s... whatever, just leave. Before I change my mind and throw a bitch fit.” His two friends gave him a suggestive look before heading out. “Those two better not snitch or I’ll cut off their shrimps.” He nodded, just a little intimidated by the threat.

He got out his backpack and handed you the comic. “I’m still surprised I uh... I never knew you were into this stuff.” His breath hitched in his throat when your finger brushed over his as you took it from him. You flipped through it, keeping your eyes on the pages.

“Yeah, well... There’s a lot you don’t know about me, as much as I’m sure you guys love to assume.” You realized you hadn’t even told him your name, so you looked up at him and held out your hand, introducing yourself. You know, out of courtesy.

“I-I know your name, but uhm... I’m Dave.” Your hand felt so soft, your beautifully manicured fingers being a real juxtaposition to his. His hand was much bigger and rougher than yours. You wondered why his hand was so calloused anyways... He didn’t look like he did many sports.

“Wait... Your name isn’t Lizewski?” You chuckled. “Christ, my bad... I always thought that was just your first name.” Your feeling of guilt for the boy before you flared up a bit again. He was being really nice to you, offering you something personal of his that he probably spent a pretty penny on. And you didn’t even know his actual name before. No wonder some people thought you were a bit of a bitch, you thought to yourself.

“Hey, uhm... I know you got a bunch of these, and my dad would kill me if he knew I was reading them. He hates vigilantes, and he thinks reading comics will get me into the whole thing. Stupid, I know, but... He takes it surprisingly seriously.” You put the comic away carefully. “So I have a proposition for you.”

His eyebrows rose a little. A proposition, alright. No big deal. Could be literally anything though.

“Come to my house this Saturday, bring a bunch of these, and I’ll tell my dad you’re coming to tutor me for physics or something.” You tilted your head a little, your locks falling gently over your shoulders. “I’ll pay you. Money’s not a problem. It’ll be like I’m renting them from you.”

He thought for a second, but in all honesty... How was this not a total win/win situation? He got to be in a pretty girl’s room, read comics with her, talk about them and make money. What kind of idiot would say no to that? “Yeah! Sounds good to me, uh... What do you want me to...” His words trailed off as you pulled out a pen and reached for his hand, writing a string of numbers on the back of it.

“I’ll text you the address, and which series I like. I’ll let you do the picking. Oh, and Dave?”

“Y-Yeah?” He felt like his heart was going to beat right out of his chest. This is the closest you’ve ever stood to him.

Your grip on his hand tightens, and you look up at him with a death stare. “Not a word to anyone about this.” You followed with a cutesy smile. “Alrighty?” You let go of his hand and put your stuff away before pulling out your car keys.

Dave stands frozen in place, a faint blush already spread across his cheeks. He swore you were going to be the death of him. He looked down for a second and realized that what you wrote down wasn’t just some random numbers. It was your phone number. It all just suddenly felt very real to him, he’d never gotten a girl’s number before. And you were just about the last person he’d expect it from too.

You got in your car and turned on your engine. “See ya on Saturday, Lizewski! Don’t be late or I’ll kill you!” You smile, before driving off at a totally normal and acceptable speed.

He gave a nervous wave before he looked back down at his hand. There was a little heart scribbled behind the phone number. It probably meant nothing.

But boy did it make his heart flutter.

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sully-s · 2 months

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Batman Quest To Get A Birkin Bag

Ok so I have a very indulgent, SuperBats head fanfic that keeps me company on days that I forget to charge my earphones while walking my dog and to bore my wonderfully accommodating friends over dinner.

Long story short it’s a character study about Clark after his death. Doomsday kills him becuase we do not subscribe to Synder movies in this household.

Mostly its about Bruce grieving and reflecting on his ten+ year marriage with the man of steel with a large helping of the Justice League members bonding and finally getting to know Bruce and in turn Clark. (Kal never really got to say specifics about his life because Bruce wanted to keep his identity secret therefore a lot of Clark's life was private.)

For most of the fic Clark’s dead. But I'm one for angst with a happy ending so he comes back. How he comes back I have all kinds of versions but I just want to share this really silly one that I’m slightly obsessed with.

It’s about two years after Clark died. Currently, Bruce and Hal are off-world for a two-month mission. Shortly after they leave the League are battling some sorcerer who's in possession of a Jinn. During the battle two of the three wishes are used and at the end it's Flash who gets to use the last one.

He wishes for Clark to be revived back to life.

Jinn says he can't do that

Flash thinks of course just like in Aladdin you can't bring the dead back, make someone fall in love or wish for more wishes.

The Jinn is like how dare you think that's not within my power of course I can bring back the dead, I can't bring back Superman because Clark's not dead. he's just in his grave too weak to break out of his grave due to the lack of sunlight.

Flash hears this and immediately rushes over to dig up Kal.

The next month and a half are all about Clark adjusting to the changes over the last three years (Like having a new kid at the manor: Tim) Meeting new members (Green Arrow, Martian Man Hunter), and really bonding with his teammates ect.

While waiting for Bruce's return Clark asks Barry what he'd like.

Barry is confused

Clark clarifies that Barry was able to bring back one of Bruce's loved ones “to life.“ That’s never happened and for a man like Bruce who loves deeply for his family he going to be very grateful and he will not take “I’m just glad I could help” for an answer. So Barry needs to think of something or Batman will.

Barry doesn't know what to ask for but knows that Bruce is rich. He figures this would be a great time to get that designer bag that Iris always wanted but they could never justify ever buying. (Listen I don’t know if Iris is a designer girly but in this fic she really just likes this one bag.)

So Bruce and Hal get back and after the big celebration party, the JL held for Clark and Bruce's reunion. Bruce approaches Barry thanks him and asks if there’s anything he can do.

Thinking Barry is going to ask for a house, pull some strings with his Brucie persona so he can better his life at his job or status. Maybe ask for Bruce to fund or set up a wellness program for people in Central City.

But Barry is just like: Uh well Iris has always liked this bag.

And Bruce is thinking Really Barry You brought the love of my life back to life I’d move mountains (without Clark’s help) for you and you want some designer bag for your wife?

Bruce: Do you have a picture?

And as soon as Barry shows him the bag Bruce knows moving mountains would be so much easier.

The bag Barry wants to get is a Birkin Bag.

Now if you know anything about Birkin bags 1. they’re stupid expensive. 2. If you can afford one that doesn't mean you get to buy one. Hermes the company that makes them has this irate practice that you have to work up a good relationship with the store and the sales associates in said store to even get the privilege to buy a Birkin (usually by buying a ton of other Hermes products you don’t want.) Sometimes you buy half the store but if you’re not a high-profile client or they don't like your image they just brush you off and postpone your chance to ”buy” a Birkin. And if you do all of the above prerequisites You don't even get to pick the bag they "give" you one. Want a pink colorway? Sorry here's lime green you're welcome.

Now Barry has no knowledge of any of this and just thinks a Birkin is just some overpriced bag. The problem is Iris only likes this one colorway ( Size 35cm, Red Alligator Exterior, Gold hardware, Yellow Slik interior ect.)

This is going to be near impossible.

But In Bruce's mind, Flash did the impossible in bringing back Clark (Bruce thinks Clark was wished back to life because that's the story everyone is sticking to. Because the emotional trauma of letting Bruce know that Clark was alive the whole time rotting away in a grave for 2 years is not on anyone’s todo list.) So he will get this bag Even if it kills him. He's the goddamn Batman.

And all this lead up is to what I'm actually obsessed with

I just love the idea that Bruce is running around Brucie-ing it up to try to get in Hermes' good graces but his image of being a drunk playboy is activity stopping him from buying any bag.

He calls up the Daily Planet and starts setting up all these puff PR-boosting articles to up his image. Which starts rumors becuase Burce Wayne doesn’t do interviews so why now?

Gotham elite catches wind that Burcie Wayne wants a Birkin richest man in America can't get one. So they all start getting Birkins. They ware them to his galas, just to troll Burcie. The elite jump on the waitlist inflating the list to stupid long. Hermes starts to wear the exclusivity of Brucie Wayne as a sign of good taste and prestige. Bruce searches the second-hand market and can't find the colorway Iris's wants.

Bruce goes undercover as a worker for a local Hermes store to become his own sales associate just so he can get around the prejudices of Bruce Wayne image and start racking up a sales history. (He just selling and buying to himself lol.)

So Bruce is playing a luxury salesman using his background of old money and Alfred’s butlering to woo potential buyers. Working his first retail job ever. Having to suck up to management so he can plead his case about Bruce Wayne. Using his access to get informed on what bags are currently available, who’s on the waitlist, where they rank, and criteria on how and what moves you up the list ect.

After months and becoming the number one salesman, he makes his case to allow Brucie Wayne to buy a bag.

It’s declined.

So he switches tactics.

He just makes a new cover as a recently won lottery winner looking to burn cash and wants to burn it with Hermes. And starts a new sale history. Using all of his knowledge and intel about what gets you on the waiting list.

He gets stonewalled a few times by former co-workers that he gets around by blackmailing them with gossip and infractions he witnessed or was told In confidence when he was a fellow sales associate.

Finally, his lottery winner persona is put on a waitlist. The only problem is he’s at the very bottom.

So what does he do?

He suties up As Batman and starts intimidating all those who are higher on the list than his lottery winner cover rocketing him up the list.

He hits a roadblock when he tries to scrace a woman on the list who doesn’t believe he’s actually Batman becuase “Why would Batman even want with a Birkin?”

Which leads to an escalation that gets him an earful from Superman who’s called to the scene by said woman whos terrified after Batman strings her upside down over the edge of her high-rise penthouse.

Clark offers to buy the bag becuase who wouldn’t want that kinda of PR endorsement?

Which Bruce vittamently refuses becuase it would cheapen the gift.

Finally, after a week of terrorizing wait-listers, his lottery winner persona is “given“ the opportunity to buy a bag.

But disaster strikes when that lucky break he thought he got because he was next on the list was actually bad luck becuase the person was bumped off becuase they bought the bag that Bruce had painfully calculated to purchase which was the only bag that would be made in the next 3 years that has the colorway that Iris wanted.

So Bruce tracks down and comforts the buyer in the dead of night as Batman. The buyer freaks out and says they didn't even want this colorway and really wanted a Caranery yellow ostrich skin colorway and if he could get her that one she'd trade for it.

This leads Bruce to play matchmaker for a series of buyers that have Birken Bags they don't love and would trade for their dream bag. And after months of fetch questing and matching sad Birken owners around the world with their dream bags Bruce he pulls it off. He finally gets a Canary, yellow ostrich skin colorway Birkin bag trades it for Iris’s dream bag. Only to find out it was ruined in a car crash that was caused by an alien invasion 2 months before that the JL had a particularly nasty time with and it was Bruce’s Batmobile that was thrown into her parked car.

The bag is a mess the zipper borken, missing hardware, leather scratched. But Bruce so done with everything accepts the trade and takes it back to the cave. Where he proceeds to 3D scan the bag then composite a CAD model and starts to collect all the raw components of the bag himself.

Getting only the best materials (much better than what Hermes was using) Talking to Killer Corc on how to find the best alligator pelts. Flying to India to personally pick out the red dye for the color. Mining the gold for the hardware from an asteroid that was threatening the Watchtower.

After he has everything Bruce proceeds to by hand construct an exact replica of Iris's dream bag. Essentially making the most over-budgeted fake to exist. Where he finally gives it to Barry (who has no inkling of the time and effort Bruce has put into this side project that has taken the better part of a whole year) who jokes in saying “Oh wow takes 12 months to run to the store huh?”

#Shit I'm never going to write #Fic Idea rambling #Silly Ideas #Superbat #The Flash #Batman #Superman #Burcie Wayne #bruce wayne #Messing Around #DCAU #Stupidly long #I'm great at parties ;)

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pearlywritings · 1 year

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His little hero

synopsis: it was you who always saved him from nightmares, but it seems that another precious girl decided to take that role upon herself.

pairing and characters: (implied) Kaveh x fem!reader, your daughter

tw: established relationship, hurt/comfort, girldad!Kaveh, domestic moment

word count: 1.2k+ words

a/n: I am slowly coming back, and let’s say this small fic is the first step of me returning on my way of writing

"Dad!"

Kaveh jolts upright with a startled gasp, pink padparadscha eyes wide and chest heaving. Blood is thumping in his veins, in his head, in his throat, in his everywhere, turning the whole world in the sounds of his widely beating heart. He doesn't register how sweaty he is or how his frame is trembling - the veil of sleep is too thick to shake it off of his conscience.

"Dad?"

Oh, but he has to, he needs to fight it and get a hold on reality. Shaking his head and making the hair messier than before, the man in his late thirties turns to look to his side, only to be met with the same soft gem-like eyes, reflecting the light of a nightstand lamp. Wait, the lamp has been turned on? Or did he forget to switch it off in the evening, after he told his daughter, who sneaked into her parents' room and wormed her way to her father's side, many stories to lull her to sleep? And why is there such immeasurable worry on the surface of these pinkish pools, staring at him without blinking?

He wants to lift his hand to rub at his eyes, but realizes that two small hands of a five-years old have an almost death grip on his long fingers. What has frightened her so much? He is sure he didn't tell her any horror stories - he probably wouldn't have been able to fall asleep himself. Then what is it-

"Dad, what's wrong..?” It twists his heart, how sad and small she sounds. “I am scared… are you okay?"

She is scared..? Of him? Or…for him?

Shit.

"I'm fine," Archons, this tired and hoarse voice is so strange, yet painfully familiar to him. Kaveh turns to face her properly and reaches the free hand to gently cup her little cheek, fore and middle fingers smoothing her locks behind her ear. “I really am,” he tries to sound softer, leaning down and placing a kiss to her forehead, pushing his fears behind to comfort his sweet girl. “Shh, it’s okay, baby, don’t look so sad.”

“But…but you were crying…” her lower lip trembles and the man immediately brings her close to his chest, folding legs and settling her against them. Artistic fingers carefully adjust her cute flower-patterned pajama, smoothing the fabric and rubbing at her back intact with the rocking of the architect’s body. Lips press to the top of her head, sweetly murmuring words of reassurance and promises that he really is fine.

He wants to believe he is. After all, Kaveh has an amazing wife, a child - the most wonderful girl in the whole world, he has a stable well-paying job, a nice house he built for his little family, great friends (maybe just a little bit annoying at times), and everyone around him is happy. He is happy.

But sometimes… Sometimes he is so-so scared of losing it all. To not hear the laughter in tavern at the table his pals reserved, to not have a home to come back to, to once again struggle with providing for his loved ones, to not have this bundle of sunshine in his arms, calling him ‘dad’ and expressing her happiness through the brightest smile on her adorable face, to not kiss you good morning and good night while holding your hand and smoothing his thumb over the metal of a band wrapped around your finger.

He knows how easy it is to lose everything - it happened to him way too many times he’d like to admit. And now, when he has so many wonderful things all at once? He cannot stop thinking about it occasionally. The nightmare of such a kind shouldn’t be surprising, but must've it really come to him, when his daughter sought her dad's cuddles on a night when you went for a sleepover to your friend’s?

Kaveh sighs heavily, running a palm down his face, as if wiping the remnants of sleep and clinging worries, refocusing his gaze on a child in his lap. She sniffles a couple of times quietly, but doesn’t look like she is about to cry, though the man is fully prepared to comfort her. Instead, she bumps her forehead against his ribs, butting them.

“Do you miss mom?” He has to strain his ears to hear that, but he does. Running his digits through her silky locks, the architect hums, glancing at the photo of you three on his nightstand - it depicted the moment right after he sneaked behind you, lifting you bridal style, while your girl was in your arms. Ah, her and your smiles are the sunniest, and he knows you’d say that his is just as beaming.

“Of course I miss mom, baby.”

“Were you crying because of it?”

Ah… Of course she is still worried for him. It kind of reminds Kaveh of himself - though he was older and it was to his mom.

The sudden comparison makes him shudder.

May his daughter never experience the same thing.

“I don’t know, love. I had a nightmare, but I don’t remember much,” half-truth and half-lie. He might not remember the details, but he knows what caused it. “You saved me from it though. You know what it makes you?”

“I saved you?” She lifts her head and his heart melts at the sight of her eyes, widened in astonishment. “I really did?”

“Mhm, you did.”

“Am I… a hero?”

She is. Just like her mother.

“You are, little feather. The greatest hero, the conqueror of nightmares, the savior of dads!”

She giggles, hiding her face in his chest, turning bashful. He kisses the top of her head again, cuddling her small body into his, sensing how with every second spent in his daughter’s dazzling presence less and less fears remain in his heart and brain. She truly is a wonder. His and your wonder.

“I am like mom!” Oh, many would beg to differ, considering the stark resemblance the girl holds to her father, but Kaveh knows what she means. “You say mom saves you every day.”

“She does,” an almost dreamy sigh escapes him, “she really does. But even heroes sometimes get tired and have to restore their power. That is why mom is out today having fun with her friends, whom she hasn’t seen for a long time. As for the little heroes, they should sleep at night to grow into even mightier heroes. So why don’t we-”

“For how long?” The girl cuts him off, lifting her head again and glancing at the man with curiosity. “A day?”

“No,” he chuckles, realizing that’s going to take a while now to get her to sleep, “longer than that.”

“Hm… Two days?”

“No, it’s not like the weekend at school.”

“Three days!?”

This time he shakes his head, listening with a smile to how the number of days keeps growing along with the size of her eyes and opening mouth. It never seizes to amaze him how a simple conversation with her makes everything so much better. There is a slither of guilt about waking her up and worrying her so much with his state, but watching her play the guessing game eagerly only five minutes after she was ready to cry for him - soothes Kaveh.

Moving closer to the headboard and settling against it, the blond decides to entertain her more, until she is sleepy enough to get back to the dreamland. After all, even the little heroes need rest, and that’s the least he can do for his.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #kaveh x reader #kaveh x fem!reader #kaveh #dad!kaveh #genshin impact fluff

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pxrplebxtterfly · 1 year

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Feeling Warmer? (Dean)

18+

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem reader

Warnings: blood, nudity, oral sex, penetrative sex, nothing too dark bc this is my first fic ever.

Summary: Dean shows up at your door freezing and bleeding.

Word count: 3k

Notes: This is my first fic!! I’ve never written anything like this before so if anyone has any advice, please let me know! Also, this fic is in first person but does not use any particular name for the reader. Also, this same fic but for Sam, will be posted on my account. Thanks so much for reading, I hope you enjoy! (all gifs belong to me)

❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀

I've known him for two years now. Within these two years, I’ve found myself attracted to him more than I’d like to be; especially because he’s a friend. But there’s something about his character that stirs something in me.

As a self proclaimed “good” witch, I focus my craft on helping others. That's how I met Dean and his brother Sam.

Both hunters, they kill monsters like me; except I'm not a monster. I met him when he came to town on a case, hunting another witch. Locals talked to them about me and they confronted me at my home. Before killing me, the other witch appeared, to watch them kill me and then to kill them.

Either way, before they could hurt me too badly, I was able to recite a spell and trigger the hex bag the other witch stood under. She sparked into flames and burnt to ash in my doorway.

Realizing I had helped them, they decided to hear me out and let me explain myself. I told them how I was raised by a wiccan, that was devoted to nature and the ways it can be harnessed to do good.

They let me live, noting I was still mortal. Since then I've been helping them occasionally, when they need it.

I hadn't heard from them in a while until one of them, the one I've always liked more, shows up at my door.

“Oh my god, are you okay? What happened?” I ask.

Dean's standing on my doorstep, the cold, dim light from the porch lamp creating deep shadows over his tall form. Snow is piling up outside, coating my lawn and the fields around my house.

He’s covered in snow, soaking wet, and almost frozen, making him shiver intensely. There’s dried blood from small cuts on his face.

“Demon” he pants.

Bruises are starting to form on his eye and jaw. I grab his wrist to pull him inside and feel that his skin is like ice.

“Jesus, come in, I’ll start a bath for you, you’re freezing” I say, feeling his large hands between my own. I walk to the bathroom and kneel next to the bathtub. I turn on the hot water and the water starts to fill the basin.

“What happened?” I ask.

“I was a quarter way to the city and my car ran out of gas. I knew it was something else when the gas meter was still on half a tank. A demon pulled me out of the car and roughed me up a bit but I've got the knife so I was able to… get away” he hesitates and adjusts his words appropriately but I know what he means. “Out here, you’re the closest to where I was” he explains, teeth chattering and pain in his eyes.

“How long did it take you to get here?”

“Forty-five minutes maybe” he says, hugging himself and still shivering.

“Where’s Sam? I didn’t know the both of you were in town,” I ask, getting up from my knees to face him.

“He’s with Bobby in Tulsa working on a case. I was on my way down there, and was hoping to make it by morning.”

“Why weren’t you with them?”

“Since when did you become so inquisitive?”

I roll my eyes and say “Nevermind, I was just wondering”

Steam begins to rise off the water's surface and that’s when I say, “Okay, cmon get this stuff off.”

He begins to pull off his jacket but has trouble with his cold, stiff muscles and frozen clothes so I reach over to help. I pry his jacket off and then lift his shirt. He shivers when I peel his shirt off his back.

I can't help but admire his tanned, muscular torso, chest, and arms. I sometimes forget just how enjoyable his body is to look at.

“This is so pathetic” he says, and looks so shy about needing help.

“No it’s not, your clothes are frozen to your skin, just let me help you” I say.

Without thought, I sit on the edge of the bathtub and begin to unbuckle his belt. I look up at him and shrink when I see the way he’s looking at me. A look of shock and desperation is painted on his face.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t even think-” I apologize and remove my hands from his hips.

He pauses, collecting his thoughts. I stand up, the most embarrassed I've ever been, and wait for him to move so I can leave.

Instead, he says, “It’s okay” softly and cautiously, looking at me. He pulls his belt off timidly and tosses it on the floor next to me. He continues undressing, unbuttoning his pants. I look away from him and let him peel his jeans down and off his legs.

He stands upright, just in his underwear now, and looks down at me with coyness. Trying hard not to glance down I say, “I don’t want to intrude”

“It’s alright” he nods and slides his boxers off. I don't look, but hear them hit the tile floor.

I cannot begin to process the fact he’s bare in front of me. I'm so flustered at his lack of privacy that I can't move my feet. So instead, he takes a step past me to get into the bath.

I turn around and watch, hypnotized, as he lowers himself in, big hands, clutching the sides of the tub. I hold my breath watching his muscles work to ease him in.

“Nice and warm,” he says and looks at me.

He’s so big he barely fits in the tub; thighs pressed against the sides, arms draped over the edge.

Trying to distract myself from his naked glory, I turn the faucet off.

“Okay, um, I’m just gonna go read a book or something” I say, trying to brush off the awkward sexual tension.

There is no friendly explanation for the occurrence that has just happened between us, and I need a moment to myself, to freak out alone.

“Actually, will you stay?” he asks, puppy eyes and pretty eyelashes blinking at me.

“You want me to stay?” I can't understand what’s happening between us right now.

“Yeah, I… I don’t want to be alone right now” he almost begs.

“Oh-okay” I nod and say gently.

I notice the washcloth on the counter so I grab it, and sit next to the bath. The side of the tub cuts off part of my view of him so I'm able to relax a little bit more.

The swarming heat in my body, due to him, makes me confident enough to ask him something I'd never ask anyone else.

“Do you want me to?” I gesture at his cuts on his face with the washcloth.

“Sure,” he says and sits up.

I soak the washcloth in the water and then bring it up, dripping wet, to his face. I tenderly pat at one of the wounds, dabbing at the blood. I hold his face gently with my other hand to steady my movements. He seethes slightly under my touch and the heat and longing in me increases. His eyes are shut in uncomfortability.

When I finish cleaning up the cuts on his face, I dip the rag back into the water and then bring it to his shoulder. I rub his shoulder with the cloth and then squeeze it so the hot water can run down his back. As I rub him, I watch his skin and the way the water trickles over him.

“Thank you” he says, his head hung, hair floppy, and the back of his neck on full display. There's something so tantalizing about it.

“Of course, you looked like you had hypothermia,” I say.

“Nah, I’ll be okay” he looks over his shoulder at me, as if to say that he’s okay because of me.

I bite my lip in an attempt not to smile but it doesn’t work and I blush. I push myself to my knees and loom over him, trying to get a better angle for my arms. I don't look at what I want to look at, I stay focused on the rag. Even though my core is aching, I'm putting his comfort first.

I dip the cloth back into the water and this time bring it up to his chest. I run it over his collarbones and feel his heart beating fast. We stare at each other while I drag the washcloth over his tattoo and down his sternum.

He looks up at me, so nervous, yet so bewitched.

Once again I bring my hand back down into the water but this time, my fingers brush something hard. I look down to see what I touched and see his erection.

“Oh, I didn't mean to-“ I stutter and look at him. He's looking right back at me with intense shame.

“I’m sorry,” he pants, “You’re just touching me so gently and you’re being so kind, I- I can’t help but-“

I shake my head, an apologetic look on my face and say, “Oh god, really it’s fine! I’m the one who should apologize, it’s my fault, I should have known, it wasn’t my intention”

He looks away, “I should leave,” he starts to say, but I can hear in his voice it’s only because he’s embarrassed.

“And go where? You don’t have a car, outside’s a blizzard by now, and I'm not driving you into town at this hour, no place will be open" I say, trying not to sound desperate.

While I completely am, if he’s not okay with this, then neither am I. However, that doesn’t mean I don't want to try to seize the opportunity.

“You’re right but this is really embarrassing and I don't want to make you uncomfortable” he says, almost restless.

“You’re not,” I say, “I- I’m willing to- I just want to take care of you. Will you let me help?”

This is the moment. The moment I've been waiting for since I met him.

He hesitates, “What do you mean by help?” he asks and looks so infatuated.

“I mean this” I say and go in slowly to kiss him. After I kiss him he stares at my lips for a second, but then kisses me back deeply. He brings his wet hand up to my face, tangling my hair. He caresses my face with his other hand as I timidly slide my tongue into his mouth. Our kissing is passionate and aches with years of unspoken lust.

I place my hands on his shoulders to steady myself, and then run them up his neck to hold his face and then back down again.

I decide to get bold, so I submerge my hand in the water and wrap it around him.

He moans into me, surprised by my boldness. He whispers out “Fuck” as we part and searches my eyes, as if trying to figure out if I’m insane or not. He leans back letting me continue. I begin to pump and he closes his eyes in pleasure.

His chest is heaving and he’s biting down on his fist to try and keep himself at bay.

“God,” he hisses, “you’re so good at that”

His hips start to raise and thrust into my fist and that’s when I decide he’s done bathing.

My arms and knees are sore and I need to sit down on something comfortable. I let go of his cock and he groans.

“Can we go to the living room?” I ask, standing up.

He doesn’t answer, just scrambles to drain the tub and get out.

He follows me down the hallway, damp feet padding behind me. When we get to the living room, the fire in the fireplace is burning bright and I sit on the couch in front of it.

He has the towel wrapped low around his waist, hardly covering anything.

Before I'm even able to invite him to sit next to me, he’s kneeling in front of me, face hovering in front of my knees.

“What are you doing?” I giggle.

“I just want to look at you” he breathes out, unable to hold back a grin.

“Okay” I whisper and smile.

He peppers kisses on my knees and my thighs, slowly working his way to my core. Before he goes too far he asks, “Can I?” referring to the pajama shorts I'm wearing and I nod.

He reaches up and tugs my shorts off leaving me in just my panties.

He spreads my legs apart and says, “Fuck, you’re so wet,” noticing the damp spot on my underwear.

He brings the knuckle of his finger to my cunt and brushes the wet patch. I whimper, wanting him to touch me more. He looks up at me and scoffs through a smile. He doesn’t break eye contact as he begins to kiss and suck all over the insides of my thighs.

Naturally, my legs try to close but he keeps me spread with his huge hands, so that he can tease me a bit.

He pulls back and slips his hands in the band of my panties and pulls them off me.

“Fuuuck, look at you” he drawls when he’s eye level with my throbbing pussy. “Can I taste you?”

I nod enthusiastically, and watch as he kisses my clit. I feel his finger run through my entrance collecting my arousal. He brings his finger to my clit and rubs it gently.

I moan at his touch, and the way he cares to make sure I’m wet all over. Then he wraps his arms around my legs, enabling him to stay nuzzled close to me.

He slides his tongue over my hole. I lean back into the couch. He begins to make out with my cunt and I almost faint from how sexy he is and how good he’s making me feel.

“Jesus” I stutter. His mouth feels so nice on me that I sit back up and hold his head while his nose is burying into my clit. I squeal as he tongue-fucks me and grind up into his face. I run my hands through his hair pulling at it and he moans into me.

I can’t help but groan from the waves of heat I’m experiencing. I’m almost at my climax but I want this to be drawn out as long as it can, so I decide to stop him.

I push at his head and he looks up at me, the lower half of his face shiny.

“God,” I whisper and shake my head slightly, in disbelief at his perfection.

“What?” he asks.

“You’re just so…” I can’t finish my thought with my head swimming the way it is.

He laughs at me but stretches up to kiss me. I taste myself on him and it only makes me feel hotter. I pull his body flush against mine and can feel his dick through the towel on my lower stomach. Evidently he feels it too and begins to rut against me.

He pulls the towel off and now his cock is poking at the hem of my shirt. I once again wrap my palm around him and massage his pre-cum into his dick. I rub my thumb underneath the head of his cock and he moans.

“Oh, do you like that?” I ask sultrily.

“Fuck yeah I do” he replies against my neck. His hands are digging into the cushions of the couch beside my legs.

I take my other hand and alternate between fondling his balls and pumping along with my right hand.

“You’re so good to me” he says breathlessly, his head buried into my shoulder. He keeps trying to kiss my shoulder and collarbone but fails due to the overwhelming pleasure.

“I know baby” I say into his ear and kiss it.

He’s moaning and thrusting into my hands, but pulls away so he can look at me. I become even more wet as I watch him get off in my hands.

“Hold on,” I say and slow my movements.

He grunts as I slow down and says, “You’re killing me”

It’s because I’ve edged him twice now and I chuckle.

“I want you to fuck me”

“I can do that” he nods, drunk off his denial.

“Oh good” I reply and kiss him.

I reach over to the little end table next to the couch and pull out a condom.

He raises an eyebrow at me, intrigued that I keep them close. I hand it to him and let him put it on while I lay back on the couch.

Condom on, he climbs on top of me kissing my stomach up to my breasts, neck, and then mouth. He rubs my clit with one hand and I rock my hips into his palm.

He’s breathing fast when he pulls away and looks down at my entrance. He swipes his dick through my folds and prods at my weeping hole.

“Please” I whine, begging him to fill me.

He pushes into me and instantly seethes and moans when my tightness tries to push him out.

“Jesus” he stutters as he begins to fuck me.

I’m whimpering under him, completely helpless to his massive frame. He’s looking into my eyes while I run my hands up into his hair and hold his body against mine. I can’t stop muttering curse words and babbling nonsense as he hits that deep spot inside of me.

He’s panting and groaning in my ear and I feel myself clenching around him, and building up to my climax.

I reach my hand in between our bodies to help further myself along, when he whispers “I’m so close”

Instantly I’m reaching the edge and so is he. In a tremendous peak, we both come. He continues to fuck into me while we ride our orgasms. I think I’ve gone both blind and deaf with the surge of pleasure I felt.

As we come down from our highs, he slows his thrusts and kisses me over and over, everywhere on my face. He eventually pulls out and we both sigh, at the feeling.

He pulls the condom off and flings it in the wastebasket under the end table.

Then, he lays next to me on the couch and holds me against him. He kisses my forehead again and again while he rubs my arm gently. I bury into his side and drape my arm over his torso.

“Feeling warmer?” I tease.

“Absolutely,” he laughs.

#supernatural #dean winchester #dean winchester smut #smut

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actiniumwrites · 7 months

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Hihihhii! Congrats on 2.5k~ for the event, can i request thoma+college au+lepidolite+clear quartz? :)

synopsis: your boyfriend cheers you up during a stressful time in college

with the prompts: stress + healing from hurt !

characters: thoma x gn!reader

wc: 527

warnings: hurt/comfort, college au, modern au, stress, crying, college is a pain in the ass

notes: this is part of my 2.5k followers event! thank you so much for participating in the event! i definitely relate to this fic a lot, but unfortunately do not have someone like thoma around to help me 😭

“Well, this sentence is a little out of place but that’s okay!” Thoma says awkwardly as he highlights yet another error on your paper for a final in one of your classes.

You resist the urge to bang your head against the table or maybe just slump into your boyfriend and go to sleep, forget about that stupid class altogether.

Thoma glances at you from his spot on the floor next to you, a worried look on his face as he examines the dark bags under your eyes. His back rests against the sofa behind him, and he places the paper down on the small wooden coffee table in front of him, “We can take a break, if you’d like? I could cook you something?”

“No,” you mumble tiredly, “it’s fine, let’s just get this over with.”

Thoma nods and adjusts the sweatshirt he’s wearing before picking the paper back up, dragging the back of his highlighter across the page until he found the paragraph he left off on.

The following five minutes consist of him pointing out small grammatical errors, a few misspelled words, but he mostly just mumbled incoherent things to himself. Meanwhile, you close your eyes and lean your head back against the couch cushions, mindlessly nodding along to whatever he says.

“Did you get that?” he asks.

You hum and he continues.

“This whole paragraph right here is way too vague, if I’m being honest.” Even though his words sound sweet, you can’t help but feel a sharp pain in your chest from the building stress.

You still had another exam to study for tomorrow at noon, a project due for a chemistry lab the day after, and several other small homework assignments from some rather stingy professors that couldn’t bear to give up a day of work — even at the end of the semester.

“So if you just take out this part…” Thoma trails off as a sniffle rings out. Immediately the paper falls from his hands and he’s turning to face you, “Wait, are you crying? Oh no, did I say something wrong?”

Your face falls weightlessly into your hands to shield him from seeing your tears and all the stress that pours out with them, “I’m sorry.”

“No, no, no! Hey, it’s okay! You don’t need to apologize, we all get stressed sometimes,” he rubs gentle circles on your back as you lean into him. The gentle features of his face crease into a frown as you continue to cry.

Quietly, his arms wrap around you and pull you into a tender hug. And he just sits there and listens so patiently it almost makes you cry a little harder from how gentle he is.

“I can’t do it, Thoma,” you sniffle lightly as your tears subside. His hand reaches to hold yours as he moves so you can lay against him more comfortably.

“Of course you can,” he says reassuringly, placing a tiny kiss to your temple, ”and I’ll be here to help you, okay? We can finish this together.”

“Really?” you look up into his eyes.

“Mhm,” he hums sweetly, “I’ll always be here to help you.”

#—event: 2.5k followers!#genshin #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact fanfiction #thoma #thoma x reader #thoma x you #thoma x y/n

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therealvinelle · 2 months

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Today I bravely ventured further than ere I’ve gone previously into the twilight fandom and discovered in no short order: Garrett and Kate winning a poll as a side couple; fluffy (?) head canons about Edward and Bella; discussion of wholesome Cullen family holidays where everyone more or less gets along and likes each other (including Edward and Jasper even!!!); and discussion of how cute an adopted cat could be for Rosalie to look after. And there weren’t master lists! Or many textual references at all! They thought the animal-eating Cullens with super strength who terrify animals could have a pet without a problem!

I have retreated to the ranks of familiar metas where I’m not made to feel unduly cynical about it all and everything makes sense (… unlike Edward and Bella as a functional, healthy, genuinely in love couple after no demon pregnancy and he turned her???). Soon I shall once again venture forth but I think recuperation is in order. It was a surreal experience like watching the Harry Potter films with someone who hadn’t read the books and them thinking Hermione was a well adjusted person socially (… she refused to acknowledge Ron had a right to feel bad his pet died for a good part of a year, I don’t know emotional intelligence is on her list of outstanding traits).

Well, the point of this blog is that I have very poor reading comprehension and therefore completely fail to get what I was supposed to from my reading material. Very bizarre interpretations of canon result from this, and we get blogs like this one (or @thecarnivorousmuffinmeta for that matter).

It's a significant and important not to forget factor that Muffin and I developed our understanding of Twilight canon during quarantine, we were sitting alone in our respective homes going a little feral in ways we are still coming to terms with. We weren't always like this, at least not about Twilight.

As for the Twilight fandom, the thing is that a lot of the people I see on my dash and who I disagree with on a lot if not everything, tend to write much better characterised Cullens than I manage. I'm very happy with my fics and wouldn't do anything differently, but the fact remains that even people who disagree with me on a lot on the surface level still characterise many of the characters (with notable exceptions like Aro, who is one of this fandom's characterisation chameleons. Everybody has their own Aro) very similarly, sometimes better (this especially pertains to Edward, a character I find difficult to write).

Also, I have to warn you- if this was what seeing the Twilight fandom did to you, stay far away from Harry Potter fandom and if you do venture into the Harry Potter fandom, the second you see a post tagged "Lily Evans" in the wild you run. Close the tab, turn off the computer, because the odds of the post being wildly and/or hilariously misogynistic are ten to one.

#twilight #twilight renaissance #twilight fandom #harry potter #harry potter fandom #about this blog #darkwinganimus

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whywhatswrongwithblue · 10 months

Text

DW REWATCH

S1E1 ROSE

When Rose Tyler meets a mysterious stranger called the Doctor, her life will never be the same again. Soon she realises that her mum, her boyfriend and the whole of Earth are in danger. The only hope for salvation lies inside a strange blue box.

1. LOVE this opening. Such a great bedroom hahah. Perfectly messy and pink—makes me wonder what t2r’s shared bedroom must look like now!

2. What does Jackie do for a living? I know it’s canon (or fanon?) that she’s a hairdresser but do we actually ever see her working as one?

3. Who’s Derek? And why does Rose think a mannequin prank would be up his lane? RUN. Such a great meet cute 😭😭😭😭 these two are married now you guys!!!!!!!

4. ‘Cos to get that many people dressed up and being silly, they got to be students.  That makes sense. Well done. 🥺🥺 nothing just the Doctor always appreciating the insight Rose brings🥺🥺

5. WILSON’S DEAD

6. ‘So, I'm going to go up there and blow them up, and I might well die in the process, but don't worry about me. No, you go home. Go on. Go and have your lovely beans on toast.’ ohhhhh he wants her to join him so bad 😭 the poor guy. This is right after he’s destroyed his entire planet and there’s just SOMETHING about Rose he sees, huh? 😭🥺 also ’Nice to meet you, Rose. Run for your life.’ Such a great line!

7. TARDIS appearance!

8. ‘Honestly, it's aged her. Skin like an old bible. Walking in now you'd think I was her daughter.’ oh my God Jackie Tyler I have missed you. Imagine your mum reacting to you almost getting blown up like THIS though 🤣 yikes!

9. Rose doesn’t tell Mickey about the Doctor—no matter how ridiculous the plastic plot sounds she believes him, even if it is unconsciously at the moment

10. All the calls Jackie is getting one after the other insinuate a pretty closely knit neighbourhood, doesn’t it? All these people know where Rose works and are concerned enough to call up. Imagine how traumatic the sudden shift to Pete’s World must’ve been for Jackie—I know she’s got the parallel version of Bev but it’s not the same, and it must’ve taken a WHILE to adjust to everything.

11. “The airs and graces” comment. So much to be dissected here! Jackie’s relationship with herself and with her daughter implied very heavily in this one line. She seems to be jealous, even.

12. They have a cat flap! Rose confirmed cat person moment (1). The Doctor waiting outside the flat xD. Talk about picking up strays🥺

13. The dialogue is so damn gooood. And Christopher’s delivery is so endearing

14. Jackie hitting on the Doctor!!!!! Need tentoo to bring this up ASAP. She’s his mother in law😭

15. Staircase shot is incredible. Love the Sort of, yeah❤️ bit. Also love how the Doctor repeatedly checks on how she’s handling the information (*Are you alright? Do you believe me?*)—however unconsciously he’s doing it, he IS checking her suitability as a potential companion 🥺

16. Mickey SMH. Also apparently he doesn’t wash his dishes 🤣

17. Loveee Clive. RTD’s writing is so immersive, it really makes the whole world come alive. These side characters add so much depth to the story—something sorely missing in the Moffat and Chibnall eras.

18. THE WHEELIE BIN. I always forget how fucking ridiculous this episode is until I rewatch it 🤣 also lord Rose is so uninvested in this relationship. P-P-PIZZA will always be one of my fav lines

19. The infamous Jimmy Stone! I love how we’re given the one line about him and it’s inspired thousands of fics. Rose considering completing her A Levels here—would that be something she’d be interested in doing in Pete’s World?

20. TARDIS!!!!! Doomsday theme begins here 😓😓 love how the Doctor is judging how easily she can accept his alienness—he claims to be done with human companions every time but he is undoubtedly impressed by Rose. Also find it incredibly interesting he didn’t even think about Mickey being dead. This, contrasted with other alien lives (including the Daleks, sometimes) that the Doctor seems to value…is an intriguing juxtaposition. Is there a little simmering jealousy of the boyfriend already? Is he slightly unable to look at consequences of actions beyond his own? He has just come off of a genocide at this moment

21. Mickey’s mother! Bit of a mistake here, we learn that he was raised by his grandma in *Father’s Day*

22. Lots of planets have a North!!!

23. I always found it funny that Rose, who seemed so upset about Mickey a second ago, is now holding hands with Nine and running down the bridge lmfao. They really are very alike in their love for the thrill.

24. ‘Yeah, that was always a possibility. Keep him alive to maintain the copy.’ You knew that and you never said?  Can we keep the domestics outside, thank you?’ hmmm. Jealousy, perhaps? Or a disregard for lives he doesn’t believe are at the same level as that of higher beings? As much as he rejected the Time Lords, he is a product of his origin, and has quite a condescending view of humans

25. Shunt off. God, I love you RTD

26. The Nestene Consciousness is alarmed when it recognises that he is a Time Lord. Later in the show, it’s implied that the Time Lords were almost, if not as bad as the Daleks were, during the Time War.

27. RIP Clive 🕊️ fingers crossed it’s your cameo we’re getting in the 60th

28. Rose! My beloved! Bronze medalist! This screencap in particular is very Bad Wolf

29. I honestly can’t wrap my mind around people who say Rose was wrong for going with the Doctor. He came back for her!!!

30. The perfect opening episode. Extrapolation is done so elegantly and we even get a sense of how absurd the show can get. 10/10, and one of my favourite episode 1s!

#dw rewatch: s1 #ninth doctor #rose tyler #ninerose #nine x rose #rtd #meta

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genderdoe-sly · 9 months

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abedison fic recs (sfw)- no specific order

@swagittariusrising asked and i said why not. Also @abpleboo cause they will probably have even more recs. (CHECK OUT THEIR ART TOO!!!!)

this list is sfw because y'all don't need help finding porn. Maybe when I'm 18.

Always Means Always by MicrosuedeMouse (13,286w)

I say no specific order but this is defintlry #1. 5/5. The best abedison fic I have ever read. Summary: Annie breaks up with Jeff who she has been dating after Greendale and goes to see Abed. Sunny, emotionally vulnerable vibes. Like lying in bed with the sun coming through the blinds. In my top 3 fics of all time list.

For the Record by MicrosuedeMouse (5,162w), Weird by womanaction (1,605w), and I Will Take Good Care of You by gingerteaandsympathy (1,182w)

These three are all about either Troy or Britta noticing small extremely close or plainly romantic moments between Annie and Abed. All are amazing, and great reads when you aren't looking for something particularly plot-heavy.

Scars by thenofutureshoe (13,318w)

I'm not as into this one as the other ones, but it's a sfw troy-leaves staple that isn't very heavy, which I really appreciate.

So Cliché by borchrtslab6 (3,263w)

This one is a bit less strictly sfw, but I'd still categorize it that way. It gives more of a wait-oh-this-is-COLLEGE feel than the others. The Blurb is great this time, but it's a bit long to copy and paste, so I recommend you go read it yourself rather than me trying to explain.

make me by nereid (1,575w)

Heart-wrenching in a very still way if that makes sense? The only characters in this are the two of them, and it works so well. A peak into two early to mid 20s autistic loners; one trying to trust a new main life partner and the other trying to trust themself.

Introduction to Persuasive Essays by gingerteaandsympathy (2,910w)

So sweet I can practically feel if sticky on my fingers. Summary: Sometimes your friend gives you a love letter in the most autistic way possible, but you think she just wants your advice on how it's written because she forgets to address it to you.

she wants to live in shades of blue (cat eyes, warm jazz, cool attitude) by Yellow_Bird_On_Richland (6,001w)

Sometimes a fic is a hit for a reason, and that's this fic. Lady x Servant Au sort of? (he is technically a duke but it's those nobility hierarchy vibes) Class differences and fighting for Maturity are the main themes, but also fashion.

When the Camera Cuts away by serindipitysays (7,555w)

1/2 of the ship is THE meta character. Of course I had to include a fic like this! It's season 6 focused and only slightly canon-divergent. You can really feel how much Abed cares about Annie in this one

Adjusting for Unanticipated Factors by MicrosuedeMouse

Good enough for me to not cap this list a 10 fics. Sunny Morning vibes again, MENTION OF SEX, dialogue heavy.

Lastly. Check out my stuff! INFJsly. I have 8 fics out and am desperate for commenters

#abedison #community show #community #community nbc #community tv #annie edison #abed nadir #fanfic rec #fanfic authors #ao3 fanfic #fanfiction #ao3fic #archive of our own #posts by sly #post request #tw all caps

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tadpolesonalgae · 6 months

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i think u might be tired of getting these asks abt the writing pace and how long the fics are and etc so sorry if im just adding to the pile but 😭 honestly i thought ur pacing and focusing on different aspects of characters and reader's life inside the world of CBMTHY beyond just the relationship w azriel was really interesting and refreshing 😭😭 maybe im just used to reading 100k+ word fics on ao3 but for what it's worth, my 2 cents is that the pacing was fine and even with chapters that weren't necessarily focused on azriel or eris or bas it was fun to explore the consciousness(?) of how reader thinks and interacts with other characters and living in the acotar universe 🤷‍♀️ especially the scenes with mor, i found them the most interesting because it seemed so realistic? the way reader acts around mor made soooo much sense (like, reader is severely insecure abt herself and clearly envies mor's beauty but she also enjoys her bubbly personality but she also doesn't really know how to act around mor bc they're not that close and there's prob also the azriel thing and skdjmfhshs so many nuances that play into their interaction. they're like 2 ppl in a friend group that hang out as a whole but are kinda awkward when left alone w each other and it's fun to see reader interact with a female character that's not her sister and isn't instantly best friends or enemies like in most other fics) and the convo they had abt the meat thing just makes "reader" as a character more complex and interesting? it almost makes me forget that it's technically a self insert fic which tbh i don't mind at all.

like.. there's a reason there's a whole genre dedicated to angst and slowburn. for me, the frustration and miscommunication of it all IS the fun part. bc that means whatever is to come that is the moment of reconciliation/resolution will be that much more satisfying 🤌🤌✨️

anyways yea, just wanted to say that personally i didn't mind ur writing style/pace/storyline choices and if anything for every chapter i finish i end up being more excited for the next <3

‘i think u might be tired of getting these asks abt the writing pace and how long the fics are and etc so sorry if im just adding to the pile’

No absolutely not! Any and all feedback is always appreciated because I get to see different people’s opinions and thoughts? Also again I only get to see/read cbmthy from a writers perspective, so I know what’s going to happen, I know why there are certain details mentioned and why reader stays away from certain characters but still none of that has been touched on which can be confusing on the receiving end? What I’m saying is it’s helpful hearing your interpretations with things that I hadn’t even thought about because it helps me adjust things for the future :)

‘maybe im just used to reading 100k+ word fics on ao3’

100k+ words??? 😃

‘it was fun to explore the consciousness(?) of how reader thinks and interacts with other characters and living in the acotar universe 🤷‍♀️’

I’m glad you’ve been enjoying it and not finding it boring!! They are supposed to give a little insight and be fun but I understand sometimes you just want to know more so having downtime can come across as filler?

‘especially the scenes with mor, i found them the most interesting because it seemed so realistic?’

Those scenes were often quite difficult to write because I wanted to convey the awkwardness but then that would often stunt the conversation so it would come to a dead end, which then lead to a block so I’d have to rewrite and rework the scene so there was a clear hesitance on one side without it being boring? (I don’t know if that actually worked or if I succeeded in keeping it from being monotonous, but it was the aim at least 🫠)

‘for me, the frustration and miscommunication of it all IS the fun part. bc that means whatever is to come that is the moment of reconciliation/resolution will be that much more satisfying 🤌🤌✨️’

Oh my gosh I’m so glad you enjoy that 😭

I don’t usually read angst unless it’s by a writer I’m familiar with so I think that’s a slight deficiency on my part? Like back near the beginning of cbmthy someone mentioned enjoying the resolution and until that point I was pretty committed to making it end sadly without any reparations (which isn’t happening anymore, don’t worry🧡💛)

#anons <3 #cbmthy #feedback #🧡💛

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saetoru · 2 years

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Tee. Do you have any tips when it comes to writing fics??? i really wanna write one but its either i don't know how to or im just too lazy. (you're one of the most talented writers here in tumblr i swear)

help i definitely am not up to par with half my moots buuuuut i will attempt to give you some advice

sometimes not planning helps you plan best—like sometimes if you just sit with the empty doc in front of you with a vague idea and start writing, a story will just naturally come to you as you write. just write what comes to mind, even if its choppy and messy and fast—the editing is where you can reread and add and take away and adjust, etc. this is usually the norm for me in short pieces like drabbles n stuff

for longer fics, i usually think of the "conflict" and the ending first. and then depending on if the conflict is internal vs external, i break up the scenes that build up to the conflict, then the scenes following it to the end / solution, and i plan who the scene will be centered around—as in if its reader-centric or the character-centric bc that's the person you'll be developing more / giving an inner monologue for in the scene most likely. breaking the fic up into scenes gives you a solid idea of your progress—like if you're 4/7 scenes along, that tells you how much you've developed the story you know ?? and this is especially nice for when you're feeling stumped / uninspired bc if you're on scene 4 but its slow and hard to write it, and you really wanna get to scene 6, you can just skip to scene 6 and get ur creativity flowing again. connecting the scenes if you skip around can be a bit challenging sometimes, but once you slowly weave them together, you can sometimes come up with good ideas that add to the plot.

also, if there is a certain detail you'd like to remember if the future to hold significance, highlight it in the google doc and leave a comment like "connect later"

if you think of any dialogue that you'd like to use for later scenes you're not at yet, write them at the very bottom of the doc for safe keeping—it is very possible you can (and will if you do not do this sobs) forget dialogue that could've been really good

and as far as planning scenes go, it depends on person to person—i find making my outlines too structured makes me lose interest in writing bc it feels like the whole story is tangible and right there for me to see and then i lose motivation to actually develop the words and bring it to life. some ppl need a whole outline of how the scene opens, develops, key dialogue, and how the scene ends, etc. try playing around with how you outline your scenes—but id say the most important part is splitting your fic up into the major scenes and their purpose in developing the story.

theyre like "arcs" if you will sdjhghsdgf. anyway i rambled WAY too much IM SORRY SOBSOB but i hope this helps at least a little !!

#♡ — one new notification !!#♡ — unknown number.#tumblr tips

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rawliverandcigarettes · 2 years

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Ask Game : ALL OF THEM !!!!!! Or, perhaps slightly more realistically, 💭 ! 👓! 🚀 ! 💥! and/or [INSERT PREFERENCE HERE] ! (they're all free choice, answer as many or as little as you like)

Hahaha yes that would be maybe A Lot (though I did have fun, these are good asks! I might answer more at some point!!)

I have already replied to some of them here!

💭 What inspires you and your writing?

I always found the "inspiration" questions to be really hard to answer, because I'm not always 100% sure what qualifies as inspiration to be honest? If I had to answer beyond the obvious (just living one's life, watching others live theirs, get involved with other people's art, learn cool facts about being alive and how we made it obtuse and complicated), I think my thing is to notice intersections, heighten them and push them in a direction that I can then observe? I think it's why I really like fan creation: there isn't the arbitrary part of making things up that could be literally anything, it's more about reckoning with particular feelings and exploring where they come from and what they mean. I think I create in a very... reactory way, if that makes sense? Which sounds awful put like that, but oh well!!!!

👓 What helps you focus when you write?

Two things!

Music and a drink of some kind (generally tea or coffee, but can be a nice cold something, or even alcohol in rare occasions)

NO INTERNET.

This second part is so crucial. As time goes by, I think I have a fairly decent amount of suspicion that I fall somewhere on the ADHD spectrum, and so the internet simply murders my ability to focus. I didn't use to be so bad, but two burnouts before hitting 25 years old will mess up a brain real good, and now I need my way out of the interwebs to do anything remotely productive.

I am so worried about the inevitable moment where my old phone dies and I *have* to get a smartphone.

🚀 Do you like to outline your fic first or create as you go?

It mostly depends on the story. If it's a short piece, I either don't outline or outline in extremely broad strokes.

When it comes to longer pieces, I do outline pretty extensively! I have developed a method that works extremely well for me and involves some sort of table that recaps what's going on in a given chapter, but also notes any crucial information we're supposed to learn regarding main character arcs, main plot and subplots. I only get to the table phase once I have a seriously good idea of what the story will be, which usually takes several notebooks to iron out.

Even then, the outline is pretty loose, and I know I will make adjustments while putting the actual words on the page --there's always something I forgot to take into account, or a narrative opportunity I didn't realize was there to begin with.

(also sometimes I forget what I put in my outline and remembers too late oops)

💥 What is one canon thing that you wish you could change?

Oh nooooooo this is so hard!!! And what is hard about it is to only pick one!!!

So I'm trying to pick the one that would have the most positive impact overall, and that reflects my arbitrary bias the least (it still will, but I'm not picking something like "more salarians", which for sure would be great for me but wouldn't do much to enhance the story as a whole)

So. I love Mass Effect 2, I really do. It's my favorite of the trilogy, mostly thanks to its bold narrative design that was pretty revolutionary at the time, and its cast of amazing characters. But... I think the main plot kind of makes very little sense, and its connection to the rest of the trilogy is tenuous at best.

The thing I would change is that instead of Collectors reaping out humans colonies to make a Super Human Reaper, which is pretty stupid, Collectors are still there (and maybe still kidnapping colonists why not), but they are used as an inside job inside the Terminus Systems to stirr trouble and mess things up between different factions, increasing tensions between Council Space and the Terminus Systems before the invasion strikes. We can keep the whole game pretty similar, except that the danger is less in humans disappearing (which... ok mary sues why is it always about you) and more in "we are eating our own instead of being united against the Reapers when they do arrive". We could get a great peak of who are these people opposing the Council and why, and get a sense of the "dark" side of the Milky Way --which I think was always the intention, though it got a little muddied-- and why it still deserves to be saved. We can keep everything: the suicide mission, us being allied with Cerberus and questionning the Alliance, the diverse perspective of all these suicidal outcasts... And!!! That would justify giving depth to batarians, I did it, I made batarians part of my change without making it seem as if the one thing I would change is to write batarians in a better way!!!

(my other pick for those who are curious would be to rework Priority: Thessia and make it less sexist. I really think just reworking this mission would make ME3 overall less weirdly bitter --though toning down the sexism in the entire game also works)

And I'm throwing a wildcard generated by a number generator for good measure:

🎁 Have a piece of a WIP you want to share?

That one's pretty easy! Here's a snippet from The Empire of Preys, from the perspective of the one and only, our favorite eugenist, racist and misandrist space frog: Dalatrass Linron!!!

(it's not edited, first draft, etc, thread with caution --also Dalatrass Linron's first name is Nemore)

Nemore ignored the alien’s brutish sturdiness to return the salarian his defiant gaze; a pastel shade that looked like a discreet blush, an unbecoming secret. He was young, his clothes baggy and practical and unkempt; used to run away from the local city watch, his angles sharpened by the toll of constant revolt, or the streets, or long-term overdose. She wondered whether his mother knew where he was, if she knew about the imprint that krogan claws left on his skin and how it was now overpowering the imprinting on her; whether these claws ever dug deep enough to soil her son’s blood.

She clenched her teeth. Her crusade had never been about saving everyone –especially not souls desperate to sink themselves back to lower cycles. The Salarian Union was a collective struggle, but collective didn’t imply all-encompassing. Nemore was well aware of the sacrifices left to make. All those wayward girls and motherless boys; tragically lost, incapable of being saved.

She wrenched her attention away from the nauseating pair, and back at the crowd chanting her name.

“They’re too close,” Nemore murmured to her security chief. “Get them away from my people.”

Thank you so much, those are really fun!

From this ask game!

#asks #fanfiction #mass effect critical #mass effect 2 #halfway home #the empire of preys #batarians #dalatrass linron #yes the snippet is in fact about a salarian and krogan punk boyfriends #fucking up dalatrass linron's rally #and we do stan

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applesontheground · 2 years

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Hiii I've been reading all your fics for about a week now and I love your writing so much. Especially all your house of wax stories. Love how detailed you are and I think you capture the characters so nicely ESPECIALLY in the more smut filled fics lol. if it isn't too much to ask could you write something with Bo where he's in a particularly cruel mood and humiliates the reader maybe by making them ride his boot or his thigh, calling them more names than usual n overall being kind of a hard dom but afterwards when he gets his aggression out he's a little fluffy and praises reader for putting up with him. Thank u so much all ur work is literally so amazing!!

aaa this made me have to take a moment to hide my face in my hands because of how sweet it is. (;///;) thank you, really! it means a lot to hear i'm doing a decent job.

now, let's see what i can do. i forget how much i like bootriding until i get things like this to remind me >:3

stand up in the deep end 🕯️

NSFW | Word Count: 3,062 | Bo Sinclair x GN Reader

contains: canon typical/mentions of blood & murder, degradation, boot riding, eventual softness

🎼: x, x

It was always a little too quiet after the night’s work had wrapped up. This was true whether or not people had stopped into town, which they had. Even the most inept tourist more often than not dragged the deed out into the evening, which they did.

It had only been two of them. It was nothing the twins couldn’t handle.

Still, you never cared for the silence that followed evenings, sending another glance through the open garage and out at the driveway of the station. Bo was standing directly under a beam of a white streetlight with his back to you, holding a limp hose to the crimson spatters on the pale concrete and staring down at it. The other hand was shoved deep in his pocket along with the shiv he had used to cause it all.

When you had taken it in after the noise had settled, almost marveling in the spots blood had managed to get to keep from falling into a pit of terror, he had mused he could’ve made it a lot worse. You didn’t know whether he said that to comfort or to warn you.

It was a successful night for him in that respect, but you knew well that you hadn’t made it easy. It showed in the large gash on your arm, something you were waiting on taking care of for when the two of you made it back to the house. Lying wasn’t your strong suit, and despite having to adjust to what was needed of you, sometimes things just didn’t work out in your favor.

Huh, you then concurred, Bo usually gives an earful when I get myself hurt like this.

“You know, they would’ve killed you if you let ‘em.” Your hand froze in where it had been realigning things in the shop, making it look neat like it had been that morning, and scoffed as you registered the bitter words.

There it is.

Without looking back, you kept working and replied through the open doorway, “Well, I didn’t.”

“Got close, [Y/N]. Real close.” The hose sprayed on another patch of the concrete, washing the evidence down the gutters, “Thought I showed you enough to keep you outta that mess, but guess we need to go over it again.” Water went in yet another direction, and his voice got a tad louder, “Actually, I think I should just keep you out altogether if you can’t perform.”

You exhaled loudly again, and he went on, “Believe me, if you weren’t so goddamn insistent on followin’ me everywhere, I’d just keep you back at the house. Safer that way – for all of us.”

A thousand reasons why that wouldn’t be safer crossed your mind, plaguing you as you stood up from the low shelf you had been in. People sometimes went in the house. Bo would be the one that let them in, occasionally offering it as a ruse to show just how inviting he could be. Even if you were out of sight, sometimes the struggle wasn’t just a slash to the body and a thump on the floor. You didn’t know why the hell he’d do it, but you weren’t the one who had spent the last twenty years doing it, were you? Finally, you decided on the hapless ethos appeal, and murmured, “Well, I’m sorry I like to be around you, Bo. I’m sorry I like to try and save your town, and I’m sorry I like to make sure you’re alright.”

Finally, he fell silent. The water kept hitting the concrete despite the blood and oil being long gone. Spite caught in your throat, and you couldn’t help what followed. Even if you had the last word, you weren’t about to let it be the spot where you two would sit for the rest of the evening.

“If anything, I’d think someone who kept me locked up where he could see me at all times would understand that.”

The second bout of silence was heavier, and you heard the hose shut off. From where you could see, glancing over your shoulder again, Bo was standing stiff as a board and looking straight ahead. It looked as though his eyes were on the street past the station, maybe sinking into the town itself. The slouch was gone, replaced with the tense square of his shoulders.

Before you could play it off as something more lighthearted than what it had become, his head turned sharply. You held your stare as he finished the turn, his eyes dragging along to meet yours from over his shoulder. Nothing in his glare was hidden in that layer of charm he had been sporting all day, rigid blues immediately tearing into the person who dare remind him where this all began, the natural pout on his face defined by a tight pull of his lips into a frown. Regret was sitting in the sweat starting to drum up on your palms. You bit your cheek, straining to hold eye contact and giving a careful nod.

You think I forgot?

“Now, where’d you learn to run your mouth like that?” Bo asked, and it was the only warning he gave before dropping the hose and turning on his heels.

You dared shoot out the side door, trying to slide into the garage and eyes set on making it out of the large open door. Even with the will to run, you knew it wasn’t going to help you. You couldn’t even guess where to hide, and to be honest it wasn’t worth an almost juvenile attempt to escape. You said that shit, and it wasn’t necessarily your fault that Bo didn’t know how to handle it without resorting to this.

Still, you could’ve done without the roughness. You felt his foot tripping you at the halfway point, the momentum from being stopped making your body careen to the floor in a grandiose trip. Hitting the concrete chest first, you let out a ghastly noise, bracing the ground as the perpetrating shoes came up on either side of you, standing directly on either side of your shoulders.

“Really now?” Bo huffed, “You’re gonna run, [Y/N]? Where were you thinkin’ on going exactly?” He stepped off, and you rolled to sit on your side, propping up with shaking arms. You glanced up from your place on the ground, trying to close your mouth to hide the shivering breaths. He shook his head slightly, mowing his bottom lip with his front teeth for a second. Coming down slowly, he sat on his haunches and flashed a grin at you. It was a harmless one, but just a little too quick and a little too cold. His smiles rarely eased you, almost rehearsed in a way where you couldn’t take it in good faith. You supposed you just knew him too well.

“How many times do I have to show you how to act, huh?” He prodded, “First, you go and get the daylights kicked outta you-“ He shot his hand out and grabbed your arm, driving another pained noise out of you as he held it much too close to the scrape, “And now, you’re pulling this? I’m just trying to help you.” His tense glare held onto you again, and you could see him trying to intimidate that look off your face. Still, you clung to the tight brow, a resting frown remaining as you simply waited for whatever came next.

Bo never knew what to do when you only spoke with your expressions, refusing to feed the fire but showing some sort of reminder that you were taking everything in. You’re the one doing this, he read it in the way you rolled over, swallowing any other noise you could possibly make and looking at the floor instead. Another denial coming from the broken eye contact made him let go, and he then dryly asked, “What do I have to do to show you we’re in this together, [Y/N]?”

“I don’t-“ You began, the word together terrifying you for a million reasons, mind flying to the carnage and the wax museum. You had no direct part in that, but before you could even begin Bo was up on his feet again, and with a ratty shoe in the sternum nudged you back against the wall of the garage. You were upright, collecting dirt on the backs of your pants as you slid, hitting the brick while locking eyes with him again. Uncomfortably adjusting, you grit your teeth slightly, fighting the glare growing on your face.

“Ain’t goin’ anywhere now.” His legs were brushing against your bent knees, and your eyes fell to his shoes again as he nudged your legs to open a little more, gently pushing his own against yours, “Not until we find some common ground. We aren’t gonna work out if we can’t even do that.”

Tempted to say you got it in the sense that he might kill you if you didn’t, your mouth opened again – but without a warning the damp sole of his boot settled on your crotch before you even had the chance to talk.

The words fell away to a yelp. You braced, holding on the metal bar that lay horizontal between the legs of a workbench you were wedged next to. The rubber dug harder against your seam, and you knocked your knees into his calf in protest while looking up at him. The wobbly frown on your face only made Bo cross his arms, lazily pushing the sole against your [cunt/cock] with a gentle rhythm that he established in seconds.

He couldn’t help the grin crawling over his face, and you felt the air tumble out to see it was starting to show a real sense of amusement compared to what he had given you before. “Look at that, not so tough now. Who d’you think you were back there, talkin’ to me like that?” He wasn’t scowling, or even speaking with that stifled contempt for others that you knew he was more than capable of. You grimaced again, uncomfortably trying to shift away from the throbbing pain starting to build in your core, but he didn’t budge.

“Don’t think so.” He warned, raising his eyebrows as his smile faltered for the sentence, “You try and stand up, I’ll just put you back down.” The smile came back in a scoff, “Don’t know why you’re cryin’ about it.” He leaned down in the same careful manner, his boot pausing in the rub just to dig harder against your [cunt/cock], and with a maddening casualty he muttered, “Think you more than earned this.”

You could see the outline of an erection even clearer as you stayed where you had fallen and he straightened back up, your back muscles finally relaxing in a half-slump and letting the pain mix in a sick mess with the pleasure you were sensing in your gut. It was almost a forced reaction, your body rolling with the drag of his boot but biting back the moans.

“Go on.” He hummed, rolling his neck as he jutted his chin at you, “Run that dumb little mouth a little more, [Y/N]. Sure weren’t shy a minute ag-“

“God, shut up.” You arched against the wall, scratching against the floor and getting dirt embedded in your nails, “If you’re gonna hurt me, just do it.”

“Aww.” Bo’s eyes flashed with a pained squint, the sarcasm nearly driving the goosebumps out from your skin on your arms as he kept rutting against your crotch. You clenched again, and he asked, “How stupid d’you think I get? I feel you gettin’ off on this. How about you stop being stubborn, [pretty girl/boy/thing].”

With the light from outside being the only thing cascading over your face, you finally muttered, “I…I do.” You hadn’t even noticed he had stopped rocking his boot, letting you continue to roll yourself against him by your own accord. Glancing down, you could see the beginnings of the dirty water staining your pants, and then looked away with a roll of your eyes.

“Can make you feel good, or can make you feel bad. Up to you.” Bo braced the workbench, and you locked eyes with him with the beginnings of tears stinging the corners of your eyes. You made a face at him, closing them as another moan sounded from deep in your chest. You tried to choke on it, but he only gave you that shit-eating grin yet again.

You clenched your jaw, and suddenly began riding his boot harder, letting it hurt you, letting it drive against your [clit/head]. You gasped for breath, trying to tell him you were close. He only shushed you, and that was what made you come undone. Gasping again, you babbled, “Oh f-fuck, I’m gonna-“

He seemed shocked at how fast you had reached the edge, standing straight again and his face releasing slightly as you were already clenching your thighs around the beaten edge of his sole, letting the ecstasy surging from your core keep you moving. You drove your shoulders back a little, daring to look him in the eye as you hummed and grimaced through your orgasm. You even dare try to pull against the metal bar you had been holding, making the workbench shift slightly as you jerked your hips in a vicious thrust, the final movement before you finally sucked in a hiccupping breath. As you fell back, he drove his heel into your taint one last time. The smile was much more enamored than spiteful as you jerked your body to the pressure, hunching your shoulders and baring your teeth, mouth inches away from his toe and letting out a grunt that was somewhere between desperate and defiant.

Bo suddenly removed his boot from you, and you let him step off with splayed legs. In the afterglow of an orgasm, you were staring off into space despite him still standing over you. Bo never knew where your mind went when you got like that, almost like you had left your body for a moment to gather your thoughts, gather what made you the person that walked around with him day in and day out.

Did you do it for the same reasons you ran from him? Because you wanted out? He couldn’t help the frown at your refusal to acknowledge him when he began painting it in that context, and cleared his throat to snuff the thought altogether. You looked up slowly, and then the familiar spark came back in the form of your eyes registering him with the puppy dog level of fondness, smitten by the little features of his face and smirking at how he crossed his arms again.

“There you are. Tired?” He held his hand down to you, and you gave it one momentary glance before taking it. “Sure, a little bit.” You stammered, “Besides everything else you put me through today, you just made me cum so hard I left Earth for a second.” The smile was somewhat forced, turning into a grimace as you brought yourself to stand, feeling the sharp pain of your seam against your throbbing [clit/head].

You half expected him to rub it, but when you caught him staring again his eyes were half open, tracing your body, quiet again. The hand on your lower back was bunching the fabric of your shirt and releasing in a familiarly methodical motion, and that was when you saw the hard-on still sitting against his leg.

“You know,” You murmured, peering up at him, “I think you bark at me because a part of you wishes I could be with you all the time. Am I wrong to think that?”

Bo blinked, one hand picking at the hem of his pockets. He sighed as he let his other hand raise, settling against the side of your face and thumb finding itself tracing the soft skin under your eye. You tipped your head into it, a little confused at the shift but welcoming the chill of his palm against the maddening heat on your face. There was a moment of pure desperation in his glance, shown in the way his brow crumpled when he took in another deep breath, but when he let it back out finally admitted, “Wish you didn’t fight me all the time. Get that enough from everyone else.”

You nodded slightly, hand settled on the crook of his arm as you shifted close to his side. Part of you was mad, even a little distracted from what had just went down, but you still felt the pang that came from his plea. He wasn’t exactly the easiest guy to not get into arguments with, but you could see how it wasn’t his favorite thing to do when it came to people he didn’t beat senseless. He was a person who spoke with action more truly than anything he could say, but still you were stuck in that limbo: knowing it wasn’t okay, registering your part in what he did day in and day out... but finally, realizing under all that anger he was asking for some sort of solace.

When he only stared at you through the silence, you pointed out, “Well, maybe if you didn’t try to look for one, I wouldn’t be so mean.” He scowled at that, but when you only shook your head at him he finally grumbled, “Fair ‘nough.”

Bo wasn’t going to say it, but you didn’t mind filling that spot. “I’m sorry.”

His expression let go again, showing something more relaxed. Before he could answer, you then sank back to your knees, ignoring the ache from your crotch in favor of positioning yourself at his feet again. Hands coming up to hang off his belt, you asked, “If you want us to be together in this, maybe it’s time I start helping you, huh? Maybe stop fucking with you so much.”

The pressure was returning to his dying erection fast when you gave another look up at him. Bo rose his eyebrows, the way your hands shook slightly as they paused on his abdomen made his cock twitch. Trying not to let you make him short of words, he shrugged lazily and murmured down at you with that familiar, smug growl.

“Wouldn’t hurt ya.”

#bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair x y/n #slasher x reader #slasher x y/n #requests #notsfw #✏️#🕯️#also ty ty ty for being patient!! i'm sorry it took so long ;;

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jackrrabbit · 4 years

Text

cuffing season /// Ushijima x f!Reader (18+)

Summary: [Shiratorizawa fanweek day 5—Firsts] You convince your boyfriend to try something new in the bedroom, but as it turns out, old habits die hard.

A/N: Heard it was Shiratorizawa week 👀 technically I did originally post this on day 5, but I had to repost bc of tag issues, whoops :P Let’s pray it works this time!! edit: apparently it’s still not listed in the tags :<

The song that I mention is Bruno Major’s Old Fashioned (although it doesn’t fit the tone of this fic in the least).

Tags/warnings: mild bondage, size kink, rough sex!!!, marking (bruises/hickeys/etc.), power play/power exchange, reader tries & fails to dom Mr. Ushijima 😳, all characters are adults

Look, Ushijima’s a great boyfriend. Perfect, almost. Sure, he may not be the most expressive guy, but you’ve been dating him long enough that you’re able to pick up on the little gestures that tell you that he cares about you—the way he presses his face into your hair when you hug him after you’ve been apart for a while; his hands stroking circles into your skin when you fall asleep in bed next to him; all of it. He’s everything you could possibly look for in a man, except for one not-so-little issue:

The sex.

Because Ushijima, your sweet, wonderful boyfriend, who kisses you so gently it’s like he thinks you’ll fall apart if he’s not infinitely careful with you, is for some reason incapable of exercising the same degree of restraint (or any restraint at all) when you’re in bed together. When it comes to sex, your boyfriend is a fucking animal. And you’re not really sure how much more you can handle.

Maybe your concerns would seem petty from an outsider’s perspective. It’s not like Ushijima doesn’t take ‘no’ for an answer, and it’s not like you don’t want to have sex. You’re attracted to him, of course you are! Almost 76 inches and 190 pounds of pure muscle, a body that looks like Michelangelo could have carved it from marble, and that beautifully solemn expression that had you salivating over him from the stands before you even knew his name? You want to have sex with him, you’re just fairly certain you can’t, not when it always ends up with you completely and utterly wrecked, so spent you don’t even have the strength to lift your hips off the mattress so he can wipe his cum off your thighs.

Look, anyone in your position would feel the same way. It’s awful and you’ll never admit it to him, but you almost broke up with him after the first time you two fucked. You knew going in that it wouldn’t be easy—the man radiates big dick energy and boy did he deliver—but it was just too much.

That first time had started off so innocuously, with you inviting him to your place for a nightcap after your sixth date. You’d set candles and put on your romantic sex playlist for a nice backdrop to let him hold you in his lap and make out—how the hell had you gone from that to having him rut you into the mattress, your belly pressed into the sheets and ass arched up so he could pound into you so forcefully that your rickety bed smacked into the wall hard enough to rattle the furniture with every movement, and you couldn’t even hear it over the sound of your own moaning? You hadn’t changed the playlist, and it felt downright obscene to listen to Bruno Major croon about love and courtship while Ushijima fucked into you like he was trying to carve the shape of his cock into your pussy.

You’d had to call in sick the next day because you could barely walk. The bruises from where he held your hips had taken weeks to fade, and by that time he’d already given you new ones. To his credit, Ushijima felt bad when he saw the evidence of how rough he’d been and he promised to take it easy on you next time…but after a few more rounds of mind-numbingly savage sex you learned that the man apparently doesn’t know what ‘take it easy’ means.

To be fair, at least some of it is your fault. You really shouldn’t have offered to go on the pill as a three-month anniversary present to him. At least before, he had to give you a break while he changed condoms after he came; now he has no reason to hesitate, instead going for round two (and sometimes round three) without pulling out. You never thought you’d see superhuman stamina as a bad thing, but…

“You don’t get it! It’s like getting fucked by a stallion. I need to plan to have three days to recover whenever I take him home with me,” you whined to your friends over cocktails when they told you you shouldn’t complain about a good thing—after all, Ushijima is just as committed to your pleasure as he is to his own, and there’s never been an occasion where he didn’t get you off before fucking you himself (probably at least a little because there’s no way in hell you’d be relaxed enough to take him otherwise).

“Can’t you just tell him to go slower?” one of your friends asked. “If he doesn’t listen to you, then that’s fucked up and you need to dump him.”

“It’s not that he doesn’t listen. If I tell him to stop, he stops,” you sighed, stirring your drink with the straw and watching the decorative sprig of mint fall under the surface to be overtaken by a chip of ice. “It’s like he can’t go slower. He’s not adjustable—it’s either crazy brutal or nothing, and then neither of us get what we want. Like a vibrator you can’t turn off the highest level. I don’t even think he realizes in the moment how intense it is for me.”

“Aren’t you ever on top? You can set the pace.”

“I’ve tried, but Ushi just—“ you made a gripping motion with your hands and mimicked raising something up and setting it down vigorously— “like, bounces me.”

One of them raised an eyebrow and then her eyes widened. She turned to your other friend and the two of them whispered to each other for a bit, then shifted back to you. “Tie him up,” she said with the air of an elder imparting sage knowledge, and your other friend nodded.

“Oh, come on.” You rolled your eyes.

“I’m serious. Guys usually love it when girls are in control, you just need to take the initiative. Get him tied down and then you can show him exactly how you like it. Let him feel like he’s at your mercy for once.”

The idea had seemed unthinkable at the time, but you hadn’t been able to forget it—which is why after weeks of contemplation, hours of research, and a single extremely awkward trip to a sex shop, you’re now crouching over Ushijima’s naked chest, wrapping a leather cuff around one of his wrists.

“Are you sure that this is something you want to do?” Ushijima asks in that weighty baritone that makes you shiver with need. He doesn’t pull away, but he eyes your actions warily as you thread the chain of the cuffs around a rung in the center of your headboard and reach over to do the other side.

“…Yes,” you tell him, a little less firmly than you would have liked, and you lick your lips to try to make up for how suddenly dry your mouth is. “Anyway, isn’t that my line? We don’t have to do the cuffs if you don’t want to. I won’t force you.”

“It’s alright. You and I both know you couldn’t force me, (Y/N).” Dark eyes pin you down and it’s incredibly unfair how much power he has over you even when he’s the one chained to the bed.

Ushijima’s right, obviously—if he didn’t want to be exactly where he is right now, he wouldn’t be. You’re sure as hell not strong enough to force him to do anything he doesn’t want to, but he didn’t have to say it like that.

“Okay then…good,” you reply, adjusting the straps of the cuffs to accommodate for how stupidly thick his wrists are. When you’re satisfied that they won’t chafe but he can’t get out of them without your help, you sit back next to his chest and admire your handiwork. Ushijima lays on his back, naked, relaxed, even with his arms stretched up to your headboard and cuffed there. He looks good, mouthwateringly good, and you’re ready to get your hands on him when you remember there’s something you need to get straight first. “Wait, before we—before I do anything, remember— what do you say if you want me to stop?”

“…Vanilla,” Ushijima says, reciting the safeword you decided on when you were hammering out details, although the look in his half-lidded eyes is telling you very clearly that he has no intention of needing to use it.

Privately you agree, but everything you’ve read on the kink blogs you’ve been trolling for research tells you that a responsible adult doesn’t put cuffs on their partner without deciding on a safeword first, and you’re determined to do this by the book. “Good boy,” you say, and the diminutive feels awkward in your mouth until you see Ushijima’s reaction—the flash in his eyes, a minuscule hitch in his breathing next to you, and the scrape of metal against wood as he gives a light pull at the cuffs.

With everything safe and accounted for, you give a final tug to the chain to ensure it’s secure, then inch back and swing one leg over the broad expanse of his chest so you’re straddling his abdomen (and he’s so damn big that there’s a twinge of soreness in your thighs just from sitting on top of him). Fuck, he looks good like this, all spread out and pinned underneath you, so masculine and bulky that you’re feeling your pussy get wet just from watching him watching you.

It’s not often you get to appreciate him like this—usually you’re too focused on not losing your mind from how deeply he’s fucking you—so you savor it, massaging his shoulders and sliding your fingers down his sides, tracing the smooth skin with a feather-light touch and then dipping to kiss under his jaw. Feeling more than a little devious, you let your teeth graze over the thin skin at the base of his neck and with your chest pressed into his, it’s not hard to feel his sharp intake of breath.

“The marks...my teammates will notice.”

“Maybe I should stop, then,” you murmur against his skin, lifting up just enough to brush over his nipples. He stiffens, and once again you hear him tugging at the cuffs.

“…Don’t. I want them to see,” Ushijima says, and once you have his permission you don’t waste any time in latching your mouth to his skin and sucking. It’s been ages since you’ve given anyone a hickey. Usually you’re the one marked up like a teenager after Ushijima has his way with you, so this is a nice change of pace, especially when you can feel him flexing underneath you.

Well, kissing is nice…but you’re getting impatient and you know he is too. Once you’re satisfied that your hickeys are going to show up nice and bright red around his neck like a collar, you sit back, walking your hands back on his chest, stroking over his abdomen and giving a little roll of your ass on top of him. Ushijima’s hips twitch—unconsciously, you wonder?—and he glares at you in a way that tells you in no uncertain terms to hurry up and let him fuck you.

And damn it, something about that look has you feeling weak. Needy. Obedient. But this time you’re supposed to be in charge, so you smirk and lift your hips, pulling your body back so his cock is nestled between your legs, not quite touching your pussy. He’s already hard—no surprises there, considering how intently he’s watching you as you mess with him—but you only take a second to stroke his cock up and down before shifting up so he can see you slick your fingers up in your own pussy.

“(Y/N)…” Ushijima’s voice is low, annoyed, and he looks hungry. But you’re so amazed at how wet you are under your own fingers that you don’t bother to pay attention to him shifting his position under you to try to get stimulation. Your juices are literally slicking up your own thighs, just from chaining up your boyfriend and teasing him a little? You should have done this a long time ago.

You push two fingers into your pussy and pump them a few times, making sure to angle your hips so Ushijima can see them go in and out. The stretch is almost uncomfortable for a second and you wince a little before schooling your expression, knowing you’re about to have something a lot bigger than two fingers stretching you open. Ushijima catches it though, and he frowns, trying to sit up before remembering the cuffs that are holding him back. “Let me—let me do it for you—“

“No, stay down,” you say quickly, using your other hand to push him back into the mattress while you continue to touch yourself. Ushijima lets you (and there’s no doubt in your mind that he is letting you), but his eyes narrow as he zeroes in on the way your fingers are glistening with your own pussy juices.

God, you’re—you’re supposed to be in control, aren’t you? So then you shouldn’t be feeling like this, eyes drifting closed as you fuck yourself on your fingers, letting your lower knuckles rub against your clit while you try to curl them to rub against your g-spot. Ushijima’s been spoiling you…you can’t remember the last time you’ve had to do this yourself, and as you feel the tension building up slowly you catch yourself wishing it were him fingering you instead.

His fingers are just so thick. And long, and so rough. You bite your lip thinking about the way he does it when he preps you to take his cock, mashing his palm into your clit, petting along inside you and scissoring his fingers and… “Mmh,” you hum, holding back a real moan for Ushijima’s sake.

There’s another click of the chain sliding over the headboard wood and it reminds you that he’s right there, you could just uncuff him and he could touch you and fill you up with those thick fingers, make you cum, make you cry. But the urge to seek your own pleasure is outweighed by the image he’s making as he looks at you, his expression almost angry in its intensity now that he’s watching you do this to yourself and he has no way to get his hands on you.

“Ahh—“ you whine, letting a real whimper out at the thought of what you’re doing to him. “Ushi, Ushi, do you wanna touch? Wanna touch me?”

His head ducks into a hasty nod and his jaw clenches at the strain of having to ask for what he wants instead of just taking it like usual.

The longer you touch yourself, the closer you’re getting…but you don’t want to cum, not just yet. You draw your fingers out of your dripping cunt and open them up in a V, showing off the juices that connect them, the evidence of how wet you are for him. “Mmm, I don’t think so. I think there’s something else I want in me instead.”

And then you’re reaching to the side for the lube, squeezing a healthy dollop into your palm and then wrapping your hand around Ushiijma’s cock. And—fuck, he’s big. Sure, you’ve had sex with him plenty, but no matter how often you take him, you never stop feeling absolutely torn up after. A tingle of trepidation races up your spine at the thought of riding him like this—can you even put it in by yourself?

Even just looking at it is intimidating. He’s painfully hard, cock flushed red and bobbing up against his lower stomach every time you let it go, and, Jesus, how is it even possible that this thing would fit inside you? When you wrap your hand around him your fingers don’t touch; he must be thicker around than your own wrist.

Halfway. That’ll going to be your goal tonight, to take him halfway. And even that…is going to be a stretch.

The anxiety must show on your face because once again you’ve got Ushijima straining at the cuffs. “(Y/N)—“ he spits as you stroke him up, nudging your palm against the tip. “(Y/N), you need to finish first. Let me make you cum.”

“No, this time I want to—I’m gonna cum on your cock,” you say, adjusting your position so you’re kneeling above him, the head of his cock sliding between your lips. “Gonna cum on your big cock, Ushi, okay?”

His cock jumps in your hand at the provocation. He’s glaring at you, but he’s also leaking precum, the sticky fluid mixing with the lubricant. You give Ushijima a moment to say the safeword if he really doesn’t want you to, and when he stays quiet you raise yourself up a little more and line the head of his cock up with your weeping slit. You hold your pussy lips open with your fingers, easing your thighs down and pressing the head into you and—

“Oh—oh—oh, fuck, oh fuck, Ushi—“ you stutter out helplessly.

It’s been almost two weeks since he last fucked you. One week, six days and about three hours, and at the moment this measure of time seems unreasonably important because it’s been almost two weeks since you last let Ushijima split you in half with his ridiculously huge cock.

You’re not ready, should’ve prepped more, should’ve let him make you cum like he said—fuck, it feels like you’re losing your virginity—and the mixture of dismay and relief that spills over you when the thick swell of his head pushes past that tight ring of muscle is almost nauseating.

The tip? Seriously, just the fucking tip, and you’re already delirious, shaking, your thighs quivering on either side of his. It’s taking all of your strength to keep from going slack—but you know if you do, his whole cock is going to slide up into you and even thinking about that has your cunt clenching and unclenching around what you’re able to fit inside.

“Do you need help?” Despite the strain in Ushijima’s voice at being teased like this, there’s an undercurrent of amusement. He clearly doesn’t have faith in your ability to take him deeper by yourself.

It’s this—this quiet arrogance, this belief that he knows what’s best for you and he’s the only one who can give it to you—that gives you the guts to convince yourself to lower yourself down onto his his cock until you’re literally gasping for air. It fucking hurts, but you’re not going to give him the satisfaction of hearing you say it; instead, you brace your hands against the stiff muscle of his chest and try to focus on the way his cockhead is pressing into your g-spot.

Halfway…he’s gotta be at least halfway in, right? You sneak a glance up at him and bite back a curse at the look on his face, serious as ever, so focused on the place where your pussy is reluctantly eating up his cock that you feel your insides tense up around him again.

You don’t even know how it’s possible for you to get tighter around him but somehow you must be able to, because you hear Ushijima grunt underneath you, and his muscles contract under your palms as he tries again to sit up. When he can’t, he hisses in frustration. “Move…now. Or I won’t be able to control myself.”

Funny, aren’t you supposed to be the one controlling him? But it sure as hell doesn’t feel that way when you’re barely able to stay upright just from trying to ride his cock. You nod desperately, chin jutting up and down like a bobblehead, and lift your hips up off his cock until just the tip is left inside. When you push yourself back down you can’t help whimpering at the feeling of him stretching you, sliding up into you, that stiff, wet cockhead dragging over your g-spot.

By now the pain has faded into an uncomfortable stretch, like leaning too heavily into a foreign pose in yoga, enough that you’re able to feel the arousal building in the pit of your belly and hold onto it as you rock your hips up and down him. The pace is slow—almost too slow; you marvel at yourself for wanting it faster—and there’s a fair amount of Ushijima’s cock that you’re not able to take, but this is really all you can handle.

“Mmm, Ushi, fuck, you’re so big, so big and hard inside me, feels so good on your cock—“ you moan, knowing you sound less like the dominant partner in this position and more like you’re teasing him, pushing his limits.

Ushijima’s breathing is heavy. Labored. He’s trying to hold himself back. “(Y/N), deeper—take me deeper, now.”

Part of your brain vaguely recognizes that he isn’t supposed to be giving the orders here, but you’re too drunk on the feeling of fucking yourself on his cock to complain, so you lower your hips and try, but it feels like you’re just too weak to do it yourself. “Ushi please, it’s too much, too big, I can’t, please—“

And your pleading must sound like an invitation, because his eyes flash and you feel him shifting the position of his legs behind you—and then he bucks his hips up and his cock sinks into your cunt, pushing up into your gooey insides until the head is pressing into the tight opening of your cervix.

“Ahn—?” you squeal, startled. What? He—what? Fuck, it’s deep, it’s so deep, you can’t hold yourself up so you flop downward, holding onto his shoulders for dear life, “ohhh Ushi pleasepleaseplease” and you barely hear yourself over the lubed-up slap of his pelvis against your skin.

Fuck, it feels like he’s knocking the breath out of you. Feels like you can’t fucking breathe like his cock isn’t just pushing against your stomach but your lungs too, can’t breathe so you bear down on his shoulders try to hold yourself up try to let yourself adjust but—

Ushijima’s in control now.

Not that he ever wasn’t, you’d think if you were capable of thinking except you’re not because as you try to situate yourself make yourself relax around that monster cock filling you up, he’s not giving you a moment to catch your breath, instead thrusting up into you at his usual breakneck pace. Apparently he doesn’t need to use his hands to make you bounce—you’re not even moving yourself now, just trying to hold still as his hips slam his cock inside you again and again and again, and again, rubbing up against that sweet spot in your pussy so quickly that you think you might go crazy from it.

“Nngh, so tight,” he growls, and you can tell from the way the words are choked out that he’s gritting his teeth. You almost want to roll your eyes—of course you’re tight, anyone would feel tight around him—but it feels like if you do your eyes might roll back in your head so you don’t.

Jesus fuck, you can’t even understand how long it’s been but you do know that it’s absurd for you to want to cum already, only the thick mass of his cock pushing into you is somehow hitting all the right buttons, just like it always does. Even if it’s rough you want more. By now you’re trying to meet his thrusts, rolling your hips in time with him fucking you open, doing your best to participate but really it’s all you can do to even stay still with how roughly he’s fucking you. “Ushi, fuck, so deep, wanna cum I wanna cum please let me cum—“

“Touch yourself,” he commands breathlessly because he’s still tied to the headboard and he can’t do it, and you barely have the strength to pick one of your hands up off of where you’re scratching into his shoulder and pull it down to rub at your clit.

It’s not enough and you whimper desperately, you don’t want your own fingers, you want Ushijima’s, you want him to touch you. You’re probably saying it out loud by now, begging him to put his hands on you—his eyes widen and then the sound of the metal cuff chain grating over wood reaches you—you can see the skin of his wrists get lighter from lack of blood flow, he’s pulling at the cuffs, pulling too hard, he’s going to hurt himself, you have to stop him—and then you hear a snap.

Aw, shit. The bed.

The thought comes in a singular moment of clarity as you watch the rung Ushijima’s chained to separate itself from the rest of the headboard, splintering, the nail that held it in place looking pathetically flimsy next to the veins bulging in his arms as he slides the chain away from it. He flexes his hands, forming fists and then unclenching them to restore the interrupted blood flow, and then you’ve only got a second to prepare yourself before he’s upright, dragging your hips up to meet his.

“Ushi, Ushi, Ushi, I want, please, I want you,” you beg, but you didn’t really have to because you’re pretty sure there’s no force on Earth that could stop him from holding you up so he can fuck down into you with a ferocity that could be mistaken for anger if you weren’t certain it was really lust.

The entire bed is creaking and rocking against the force of his movement, but you don’t really have the headspace to worry about more property damage considering he’s got you supporting yourself on the mattress on your back and shoulders, your spine curled up so he can kneel and still have your hips aligned with his, your legs dangling bonelessly on either side of him.

Fuck. Holy fuck. You open your mouth but words don’t come out, only a choked whimper, but if you could speak you’d be saying yesyesyesyesyes, touch me.

Despite your inability to speak, Ushijima picks up on what you need and then along with his cock carving its way in and out of you you’re getting the feeling of his fingers padding over your clit. Rough and callused, not gentle, nothing like the way you touched yourself earlier, but you’re starting to realize you don’t mind the aggression. In fact, it’s good, it’s so good, so good you’re gonna cum.

You’re gonna cum.

A long, drawn-out whine is spilling out of your lips before you can stop it; you wrap your hand over your own mouth out of shame or maybe courtesy to your neighbors (although by now they’ve probably invested in earplugs after listening to you squeal like a pig on Ushijima’s cock dozens of times in the past). Still, as your climax rocks through you shove your thumb between your teeth to bite down on it, but the sharp pain is nothing compared to the pleasure.

“Ushiiiii—“ you sob around your own fingers. Your spine arches—or rather, you try to arch your back but you can’t, not with Ushijima’s full body weight pressing into you and keeping you pinned to the mattress.

It hurts, it feels good, you’re seeing stars, you’re hearing Ushijima snarl as your pussy tightens up and convulses on his cock. His one-handed grip on your ass gets painfully tight as he abandons whatever pretense of restraint he had left and pumps his cock into you so hard and fast you’re pretty sure the headboard isn’t going to be the only thing broken, but you don’t fucking care because you’re cumming, you’re cumming, you’re cumming so hard you think you black out for a second, holy fuck.

It’s only when you hear Ushijima’s panting breath and feel him pulling your hand away from your mouth that you regain your grip on reality. “You’re bleeding,” he says, holding your hand up and inspecting the shallow indentations your teeth made on your thumb.

“…You broke my bed,” you reply tiredly once you’ve gotten in a lungful of air, what feels like the first full breath you’ve been able to take since he put his cock inside you.

“I’m sorry,” Ushijima tells you, although he doesn’t look particularly sorry.

You roll your eyes. “Did you cum?”

“Yes. When you did.” Without him holding you up there’s nothing to prevent you from sliding down off his softening (but still unfairly impressive) cock. You’re certainly not strong enough to keep yourself in position.

Even if he hadn’t confirmed it, you’d still be able to feel the familiar heat of his semen plastering your insides, and once your still-sensitive pussy is exposed to the cool air your inner muscles squeeze involuntarily but hard enough to force some of his cum out—you sense it, hot and thick, dripping out of your pussy to smear against your thighs. “Can we take a bath?” you ask, knowing you’ll barely be able to walk over to the bathroom, much less stand under the shower unassisted.

Ushijima nods and moves off the bed. “I can carry you,” he adds when you try to stand up and your knees almost give out before you flop back onto the mattress.

At this angle, with you sitting and him standing in front, it’s difficult not to see that despite cumming literally less than two minutes ago, he’s already getting stiff again. Jesus, is he even human? After how hard you just came, the thought of letting him fuck you again is giving you something stronger than butterflies, but you look up at him and offer anyway. “Wait, do you…um, want to go for another round?”

Ushijima’s gaze meets yours and then travels over your body underneath him. You must look like a mess—sweaty, hair all fucked up and tangled, body still shaking with the aftershocks of your climax and barely able to sit comfortably on your aching pussy—and you guess he sees how jittery (nervous?) you feel because for the first time since your relationship started, he shakes his head to turn down an offer of sex. “No, I’ll take care of it. Let’s clean up first.”

“Okay,” you sigh, releasing a breath you didn’t realize you were holding and raising your arms to let him pick you up.

“(Y/N).”

When Ushijima doesn’t move to carry you, you frown. “Hm?”

“The cuffs.”

Oh, right. The black leather is wrapped around both of his wrists, chain still intact. Apparently these cuffs are stronger than your headboard. Good quality. Too bad they’re going in the trash. You make quick work of the release and then undo the straps carefully, massaging over the light pink marks on your boyfriend’s wrists once they’re free.

“Sorry, did it hurt you? I didn’t mean to—I mean, I just wanted…” You trail off, feeling infinitely embarrassed that despite all your claims of dominating him, he still ended up with the upper hand, cuffs or no cuffs. And you liked submitting to him. There’s no denying that.

“It didn’t. And…I enjoyed having you on top,” Ushijima tells you, lifting you effortlessly into a princess-carry now that his arms are free.

“Yeah right. We’re never using those again,” you scoff, tucking your head into his chest as he carries you to the bathroom. “My boss is going to get mad that I keep taking sick days every time I have sex with you. I’m just going to throw the cuffs out.”

From your position, so close to him, you can barely see the upward quirk of his mouth that would be as good as laughter for anyone else. “Don’t get rid of them. I think…next time, I would like to have you wearing them, (Y/N).”

Well, fuck.

#ushijima x reader #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #hq x reader #ShiratorizawaFanweek2020 #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#hq #hq!!#ushijima #ushijima wakatoshi #ushiwaka #ushiwaka x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #hq imagines #haikyuu!! imagines

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pxrplebxtterfly · 1 year

Text

Feeling Warmer? (Sam)

18+

Pairing: Sam Winchester x fem reader

Warnings: blood, nudity, oral sex, penetrative sex, nothing too dark bc this is my first fic ever.

Summary: Sam shows up at your door freezing and bleeding.

Word count: 3k

Notes: This is my first fic!! I’ve never written anything like this before so if anyone has any advice, please let me know! Also, this fic is in first person but does not use any particular name for the reader. Also, this same fic but for Dean, will be posted on my account. Thanks so much for reading, I hope you enjoy! (all gifs belong to me)

❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀

As a self proclaimed “good” witch, I focus my craft on helping others. That's how I met Sam and his brother Dean.

Either way, before they could hurt me too badly, I was able to recite a spell and trigger the hex bag the other witch stood under. She sparked into flames and burnt to ash in my doorway.

Realizing I had helped them, they decided to hear me out and let me explain myself. I told them how I was raised by a coven, that was devoted to nature and the ways it can be harnessed to do good.

They let me live, noting I was still mortal. Since then I've been helping them occasionally, when they need it.

I hadn't heard from them in a while until one of them, the one I've always liked more, shows up at my door.

“Oh my god, are you okay? What happened?” I ask.

Sam's standing on my doorstep, the cold, dim light from the porch lamp creating deep shadows over his tall form. Snow is piling up outside, coating my lawn and the fields around my house.

He’s covered in snow, soaking wet, and almost frozen, making him shiver intensely. There’s dried blood from small cuts on his face.

“Demon” he pants.

Bruises are starting to form on his eye and jaw. I grab his wrist to pull him inside and feel that his skin is like ice.

“What happened?” I ask.

“How long did it take you to get here?”

“Forty-five minutes maybe” he says, hugging himself and still shivering.

“Where’s Dean? I didn’t know the both of you were in town,” I ask, getting up from my knees to face him.