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#Literally he wrote to me???
mattmewrdock · 4 months
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Hes a cute first-year law student and over 18 but he's still 5 years younger than me....... He's also crazy into me for some reason, we literally have been talking for 3 days but he admitted to having been stalking me on insta since the summer??? He occasionally makes jokes about having a family together???
I need to turn him down right? Like for his own good?
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crybaby-bkg · 5 months
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I think Deku has a bit of a mean streak, actually. he’s no Bakugou—that’s for sure—but he’s not this innocent, sweet angel baby that the media has painted him out to be. but you only catch it when you least expect it, when you’re pushing his nerves, when the stakes to everything around him are high, when he’s tired of endless sleepless nights and just—snaps.
“Oh?” you go, grin unfurling like some grinch, chin resting on your hands as you leer at him from across his expansive desk. “You’re mean.” your words are teasing, a snarl that curls your mouth up. Deku stutters, eyes going wide, jaw snapping shut in surprise as he tries to think back on how rude he just sounded.
“No, I’m not—I mean, you wouldn’t stop and I just—there’s a lot on my plate right now—and you just—you keep on—I’m not—I’m not mean.” He’s sputtering, hands all over the place, the glasses perched on the bridge of his nose falling even lower with how he jabbers on and on. it’s endearing really, to see how he tries to upkeep his image of being so kind and understanding, even though his nostrils just flared at you. and his eyebrows turned down and he gritted at you, his hands were balled into fists, his words were so nasty, so ugly, so unbecoming for Deku.
you liked it. loved it even—vowed to get him like this every single fucking second that you could.
you pick and poke at him whenever you see him, teasing him and pulling at him. pushing him around even though the hero is so much stronger than you, so much bigger. and he lets you, tries to defend himself but—that’s not what you want. you want the ugliness, the snark, the mean.
he snaps, eventually, when you least expect it. grabs you up in black whip when you go to push him against the wall for the third time in only a minute, his eyes suddenly dark, the aura of the room suddenly charged.
“That’s what I was looking for.” you whisper to him, the grin spreading your face quickly dissipating in only seconds when you become the prey. when you become the one pushed up against the wall with teeth at your neck, a hand in your underwear, bullying your hole with too thick fingers.
“Why do you want me to act like this? Be so mean to you, huh?” he sounds so frustrated with himself, with you, growling and nipping and licking when you don’t answer quick enough. but your breath is caught in your lungs because finally—finally, did you get what you wanted. it just took a little bit of pushing, you suppose.
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ruporas · 1 year
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i’ll find you again in every universe. let us be a little more honest, let us have a little more time.
#vashwood#vash the stampede#nicholas d wolfwood#trigun#despite it all though badlands rumble is like. the only universe where we get wolfwood thinking vash died first... and i think that means a#lot to their relationship and how it may bloom if there was more to badlands rumble considering vash literally saw wolfwood carrying a piece#of vash after his supposed death. u know! despite the short time they were together vash still meant so much to wolfwood that he couldn't#just move on or forget him in anyway. needed to keep a piece of him for himself and the rest of his days. but ofc vash lives and wolfwood#was like ill beat ur fucking ass into tomorrow. there's just so much honesty in vash being able to see that gesture bc he wouldnt know#otherwise just how much he might mean to him. ANYWAY. trimax with with the eternal pining featuring the two chapters where imo#where the both of them really fell for each other... i wrote my thoughts about this on another comic i did before#but vash solidifying his feelings during the hospital arc -- ww solidifies his when he realizes his allegiances are permanently with vash#98 my lovelies but also to me they are so one-sided bc ww pined like no tomorrow and vash only realizes after ep 23?24? his heart did tickle#whenever ww complimented his smile though#and tristamp vw my beloveds. it really just feels like they get the  chance to be closer and closer and more honest with each other#with every version that comes about. in trimax they knew how little time they had but struggled so desperately to get closer. in 98 ww felt#more willing to forsake for vash. in badlands rumble theyre Angry but as mentioned earlier ^ more blatant truth... due to circumstances#mainly but has the chance to lead to discussions and tristamp literally. first day of knowing each other ww saves vash - 2 days later vash#saves ww like. Man. AND NOW THEY MAY POTENTIALLY GET EVEN CLOSER!!!! with s2....#ruporas art
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puppyeared · 1 year
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I just skimmed through the art part of your blog and holy bajeebus your LMK art is so beautiful and the headcanon ideas you come up with are so good I wanna steal em-
Kinda wanna see like a part 2 of the little angst you did between MK and Macaque a while ago. It's so interesting and I wanna see Macaque's reaction in your art style. (You don't have to of course, it's just a suggestion [idk if i spelled that right])
Thanks for reading and hope you have a good day/night!
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Hope this is to your liking ^^
Part one here
#I’m sure there are some character nuances im forgetting but well 🤷🏽#I want their misunderstanding or whatever they have going on between then come to a head. literally just going ‘wait what’#for me I think it’s entirely possible that there was an actual fight and maybe tension leading up to that point#cause I feel like macaque is not just bitter about thinking he died to wukong but maybe some stuff that built up to that#maybe the fight was just the breaking point. maybe they’re idiots who don’t talk about it because they think they’re on the same page idk#chipper-smol wrote a cool theory abt them using macaques ‘you’re nothing’ line in s4ep1. from what I understand it could be a direct parall#parallel to when he said that to MK right before MK regained his nerve and hit macaque in the eye.. since flying bark foreshadowed monkey mk#waaaay back in season 1 (where his shadow is his monkey form in the opening) i think that could be deliberate#and they could have gotten billy to voice an entirely different line for that scene. but they reused his line from s3#in a very specific scene with wukongs narrative foil. hm#that aside I would have liked to hear billy voice the ‘you abandoned me’ line that would have killed me. but that’s just me lol#also looking at this I should have shaded the last frame to make it look more dramatic and serious but I ran out of time :(#if anything I want to see MK try and help them get back together. poor kid tries so hard to understand people so I think it would be cool to#see that happen. that’s what I like about him.. he asked macaque why he was working for LBD instead of accusing him of dooming everyone bc#he wants to and he tried to comfort spider queen by admitting he was scared of LBD too 😭😭#my art#myart#Lego Monkie kid#lmk#Monkie kid#lmk spoilers#Lego Monkie kid spoilers#lmk macaque#six eared macaque#lmk sun wukong#lmk swk#lmk MK#lmk xiaotian#lmk season 4#Lego Monkie kid s4
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mxrisacoulter · 2 years
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a fucking idiot (affectionate)
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willowser · 11 months
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bakugou + strawberries ; 2.7k ੈ‧₊˚ for our meet fruit collab ! ‧₊˚✧ ₊˚
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mina suggests speed-dating.
first as a joke — you think — after the two of you spend too many weekends in a row watching sappy rom-coms on her couch while crying into a bowl of trail mix, and then a second time, and then a third time, after you refuse.
in her last attempt, she pulls out the big ones: her upcoming birthday. it will be so fun!! she tells you, with her big eyes and bigger pout, looking at you as if you'd hung the stars by saying yes. it's a cheap shot, really, because she knows you or anyone would do pretty much anything when it comes to mina the birthday girl.
— and that's how you find yourself here, sitting in too nice of an outfit to be spending your allotted time listening to a man bash his ex-girlfriend.
you might have found him a bit cuter if he wasn't doing that, or if he showed even an ounce of interest in you whatsoever. instead, he's treating this like a therapy session, and you're not getting paid for it.
when the timer rings, you're more than thankful. irritated enough, even, to spin around the room in search of mina — who is happily watching on as two men grapple with each other for who gets to sit across from her next. you suppose being a top hero is good for that, finding someone who is willing to give you their all.
to yourself, you sigh quietly and turn back to the little bowl of strawberries in the center of the small table, the flutes of champagne on either side of it. mina's bottle, you noticed, is almost totally empty; your last date hadn't even looked at yours, nor did he seem to think to offer you a drink.
it's not that you're jealous. really. you wouldn't even say that you're interested in dating right now, finding your job at the agency to be too much of a whirlwind to balance, anyway. you love mina: she's your closest friend, your home away from home, your cheerleader and personal hero — but working for her is nothing short of a full-time job.
sometimes your bed is a little lonely, when she's not staying the night in it after another rom-com evening, but you really can't think that you'd like someone in it, anyway, much less a stranger. it's hard to explain where your time goes, who it goes with; having to share that with someone, you think, would take more emotional energy than you have right now.
and maybe it also sorta, kinda has to do with the fact that the one and only man you're thinking of outside of work — is the same man you see inside of it every single day.
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the very thought of bakugou has your stomach turning, painfully. the image of him in the late afternoons with the sun glowing in his hair, the gentle look he spares you as you wait for the elevator, how he'd looked at you today, when you told him where you and mina were going; you don't know how anyone could make you feel the way he does, at least right now.
the seat across from you is taken up suddenly, then, and you look up into the eyes of someone that looks — nice. a little shy, a little nervous, as they introduce themselves. they decide to pour you a glass of champagne, and they even tell you, openly, voice shaking, how nice you look tonight.
you smile so hard that your cheeks hurt, much to your own surprise.
"i'm actually allergic to strawberries," they tell you with a laugh, gently pushing the bowl closer to you. "that would be a hell of a first date, wouldn't it?"
you agree. "definitely one to remember!"
"well, in that case—" they joke, suddenly leaning forward as if they're going to pull it back towards them, and it's so earnest and sweet that you feel your heartbeat in your throat a bit. "i sound like i'm kissing up to you, but—you have a really nice smile, also."
you have to sit back in your seat, fanning your face dramatically as you both laugh. "wow, i'm not used to someone—"
"time's up, extra."
you blink so hard that your eyes are crossed when you open them, and you look up at the man standing there, waiting for his turn, just as the timer dings and the room comes to life with a bustle. the person across from you only frowns, too timid to say anything in response before they're getting up and casting you a regretful glance. they're barely a foot away before the chair is taken, so aggressively that it scrapes against the floor and shakes the table.
you can't believe what you're seeing. you can't believe bakugou is sitting across from you, right now, ruining everything.
"what—are you doing?" you hiss, though your feelings — with a mind of their own — flutter like butterflies in your stomach at the sight of him.
the scowl he gives you is ugly, as always, but his face is smoother than you remember it being today; freshly shaven, maybe. the cologne he's wearing is strong, woodsy, potent enough that it dizzies you from across the table, that you can only imagine how sweet it smells soaking into the soft skin of his neck. even the shirt he's wearing, you notice, is a button down that you've never seen him in.
"the hell do you mean?" he growls, face pinched as he leans closer, so that his voice doesn't carry as it usually does. "'s'it look like i'm doin'? saving you from some sorry dumbass."
"bakugou," you grit, though the room quiets as everyone takes their seats again, and you have to swallow back your annoyance so you don't draw anymore attention to yourself.
you're not dumb enough to think he'd get away without some people fighting for his attention, too, the same way they did to mina, and — as irritated as you are, suddenly, at his appearance — you're not exactly keen on sharing him, either.
"they were very nice, thank you very much,"
"psh," he rolls his eyes, a muscle in his jaw jumping. "couldn't even look me in the eyes to tell me to fuck off—"
"maybe because they were worried you would blast them through the window—"
"and i would have—"
"oh!" you clench your hands into fists and squeeze your eyes shut, trying to will your anger back down. losing your cool isn't a good look, especially in a room of people that are trying to get to know you. "are you serious right now? why are you here?"
"you really wanna spend our five minutes doin' this?"
and there's something about the way he says it — our five minutes — that has your stomach turning in that horrible way it always does, whenever you bite into the softer parts of him. the look on his face is pensive, nervous if you thought that he was capable of being nervous. his shirt, his shaven cheeks, his alluring cologne; he's here, right now, on a date with you. pushed his way into it, even.
you straighten in your seat and sit back, dropping your eyes to the table, ashamed at the fire you've just thrown at him. "can you at least tell me why you're here in the first place?"
bakugou is silent for long enough that you can't stand not to take him in, how appealing he is to look at, how your heart sings when he looks back. one shake of his head has him sighing and then he's leaning back, too, staring only at the strawberries.
"this is her birthday thing, ain't it?"
"yeah," you murmur in agreement quietly, fiddling with your own fingers in your lap as your nerves harden into bitter disappointment. he's here for the same reasons you are, you tell yourself: for your friend, only.
distantly, you try to remind yourself that this nothing out of the ordinary. that you shouldn't be thinking of him this way, getting so hung-up on someone that's never expressed an interest in you to begin with. there have been a few late night conversations in the stairwell, that ran longer than they should have, that revealed more than they should have — but it doesn't make him yours. not in the way you want it to.
in an attempt to swallow down your own sourness, you reach for a strawberry, picking through them until you find the fattest one, and then bite it to the stem. a little stream of juice sprays out, dripping down over your bottom lip as you scramble for your napkin. you lick after it before patting at your face, spreading the sugar, the sweetness.
bakugou leans across the table so suddenly that you startle, mouth twisted like he's struggling to say what he's about to say. "alright, look—"
the timer rings, horribly, but his ruby stare never dims, never leaves yours and yours never leaves his, either, as if you're both suddenly trapped in a weird limbo of in-between; in-between the quiet moments, in-between the loudest ones, in-between everyone else, together.
and then mina notices.
"oh my god, blasty, you came!" she shouts, springing up from her seat to wave at you both from across the room. her earrings jingle loudly, bracelet beads knocking together as she leans too far to the left, champagne-drunk already. it snaps the moment between you and him, worry filling the gaps as you think about how you're going to get her out of here, once the night is over.
bakugou sinks a little further into his chair, as if it will hide him, before grumbling to himself. cheeks reddening, you realize; strawberry-kissed. he heaves a heavy sigh before digging his fingers into his eyes, deep enough that an ache develops in your own, and he opens his mouth to speak again when someone else approaches the table.
"okay, time to switcheroo!" he sings, grinning too cheerily at you, enough to make you laugh at his enthusiasm.
it darkens bakugou, considerably; "piss off," is all he says, scooting his chair further into the table as if to claim it. he barely gets another word out before the man is starting to protest, and the look he gives him then is awfully viscious: nostrils flared, looking up from beneath his long lashes and furrowed brow, as if this stranger had pissed in your champagne. "i said, fuck off, before i howitzer you through the—"
"okay!" you interrupt, reaching across the table with both hands to close one of bakugou's. his fingers are curled dangerously, and you swear you can see little sizzles of steam slipping between your linked fingers. "let's just—do an extra skip this time, okay? how about you just gives us this one, and you go to the next table?"
the man frowns — which is a bit flattering — but ultimately takes the lifeline you offer, trailing away without another word down to the next table. you can feel the couple on the other side watching you and bakugou now, a little open-mouthed, and your heart quickens at the worry that they're noticing him, that your new five minutes are going to be wasted, too.
—but his hand hasn't moved from yours and his eyes have returned, full to the brim with some emotion you can't read. if you had to guess, you'd say regret, maybe, but you aren't sure how to take that, and so you don't.
you should let him go, literally and figuratively, but the solidity of your logic is no match for the soft beat of butterfly wings in your gut.
"what are you doing?" you ask him again, softly, surely, because you want to hear the answer whatever it is. he either needs to deny you, here and now so you can move on — or he needs to acknowledge the confliction on his face, the soft intertwine of his fingers into yours.
bakugou looks at you now the way he does in the stairwell, the way he does when the sun is painting you warm, too. "i told you," he murmurs, "savin' you from some dumbass."
"but why do you even care?"
another heavy sigh falls from him and you can feel your glass-fragile heart breaking when his hand slips from yours, a little roughly. it surprises you when he grabs the champagne bottle from the center of the table and pours himself a small glass, downing it in one, bitter go before filling up your flute, too.
liquid confidence, maybe; his cheeks darken, noticeably, before he's running a rough hand over his face, still struggling to wash out the words.
"why the hell do you think?" he finally says, though his harsh question lacks the abrasive tone his voice usually has; instead it's gentler, more sincere, bakugou — katsuki — in his rawest form. "why d'you think i do—any of this shit?" one hand waves around to gesture to the span of the dining room, but you know he means more than that, much more. "you think i spend that much time after work just 'cause i have time to waste? jesus."
"i don't know," you say, earning a flat look. "why do you?"
"why do you?"
you take the glass from the center of the table and peer down into it, how it bubbles. maybe you're playing dumb and maybe that's what's really bothering him, but — someone like bakugou deals in absolutes, and you need him to do it now.
the struggle is clear, though, across his face, thickening how he swallows and turning down his lips that much more. you feel a bit bad in the silence, when the timer rings and the muscle in his cheek jumps again.
before anyone can even approach the table, he simply sticks his hand out, and the man beside you was definitely watching on, because he doesn't spare you a glance before going around.
and maybe, you think, decidedly, that's enough.
"because i don't want to go home yet," you tell him honestly, trying to ignore the blood rushing in your ears with his mouth twists and he starts to squirm at your truth. "because i'd rather spend the night with you in a stairwell, than anywhere else."
there's a ludicrous amount of tension that leaves his shoulders then, so much that you didn't notice it until it was gone, and he slumps back into his chair with pink ears, now. the sight makes you smile, widely, as if the sight is a confirmation.
maybe for him, it is.
"yeah, well," he grumbles, eyes dropping to the strawberries before darting away, as if he'd thought of something he shouldn't have. "that's what 'm sayin', too."
"no, you're not!" you laugh, nose crinkling when he side-eyes you with a frown. "you're not hardly saying anything!"
"i'm here, ain't i?" he argues, huffing like a bull. "makin' a damn idiot of myself just to stop you from—"
"—going home with some dumbass?"
"well, yeah!"
"so you want me to be going home with you, then?"
"yeah! no! i mean—" he scowls when you laugh again, lip pulling up over his teeth as if he means to bite into your softest parts, too. the thought is more thrilling that you're willing to admit — at least for now. "quit laughin'!"
but it's not just you; across the dining room, you realize mina's giggling, too, turned around in her seat, ignoring the chatty man that wouldn't shut up about his ex. when bakugou turns around to glare at her, she nearly tips out of her chair by throwing her head too far back, and when he moves to stand up like he needs to help her, all she does is wave at him to turn back around.
and he does, to you, cheeks flaring as he grabs the bottle of champagne again, pouring himself his own glass to glare into. he mutters out another quiet, "jesus" before slamming both his elbows on the table, rudely, and holding his glass up for — what you belatedly realize is — a cheers.
behind him, the afternoon sun has long since set, replaced now by nightfall and stars that shine through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows — but he glows regardless, and the look he gives you is just as warm.
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fatuismooches · 2 months
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Dottore and a sensitive s/o... agh.. knowing dottore (specifically omega) and how he can be sarcastic and mean at times. Tearing up when he says something slightly rude or in a certain manner to them. Or when he raises his voice just so slightly. This is out of character for dottore but just imagine him doing this unconsciously, or out of frustration when a dose of said cure has failed.
You had long become accustomed to hearing Dottore's remarks in the Akademiya. It had taken some getting used to, seeing how blunt he could be, but after some time you were able to see it as more entertaining rather than truly mean. You still felt the same even after you woke up after so long. In fact, perhaps you missed it after being away for a few centuries. However, after a while, it seemed that your once confident nature began to dwindle.
You're blessed with a lot of things, but you're also cursed with other things. It feels like you have a world of problems on you sometimes. You don't want to deal with things that hurt you even more, self-esteem already suffering. Now that he was older, he had no need for brash comments. Dottore could carefully weave his words to hit you where it hurts, having no need to be direct. Which, can arguably hurt more than just him being straight up.
You know that it's dumb for you to have such a reaction to it. But subtle remarks or rudeness don't help your already shaky state, even if you know deep down he doesn't genuinely mean it. All rationality seems to leave you as soon as you hear that tone. All the calmness you've been keeping up as a front. You don't want to be sensitive, to start a fuss over something this small, but you can't help it. You already know you're a burden, but you don't want to hear it.
Dottore notices the slight shift in your expression the first few times, but he doesn't dwell on it too much - you can handle it, he assumes, you have before, what has changed? And if you have a problem, surely you know you can just say it. He trusts you to speak your mind. It's not until he actually sees you cry that he realizes that perhaps his words have far more of an impact than he initially intended.
He doesn't want you to think you're an inconvenience to him, because you aren't, and never will be. And so he is at a loss as to what to do - apologize? He could, but he doesn't think it would mean much, considering the state you've probably been in for a while. Say he'll never do it again? A lie wouldn't do you any good either. He thinks he understands your brain but there are times he is proven utterly wrong. And so he resorts to what he seems to always end up doing - silently holding you until you're exhausted.
He knows he's not a gentle or tender lover. He's not the sweet one you've always desired (despite your firm statements that you would choose him over anyone else). But for you, he'll try his best to show you his love, because you deserve that, at the very least, right?
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jameswilsonsupremacy · 4 months
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i hate james wilson. he wears that stupid mcgill sweater and suddenly I’m twirling my hair and kicking my feet. the dumb antlers from the holiday episodes? got me giggling & shit. don’t even get me started on when he rolls his sleeves up to reveal his forearms. christ.
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fromtheseventhhell · 6 months
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Imagine being 9 years old and asking your dad about the things you're interested in doing when you grow up and he's like "No ❤️! But you can get married, have babies, and then maybe your sons can do those things ☺️🫶 "
#arya stark#one of those /wtf Ned/ moments#then people act like she invented misogyny cause she was like /uuuhhhhh no thanks that's not me/#/Arya is masculine/ and she's literally just a child who has interests outside of her patriarchy-assigned role#the way people read this and then demonize Arya for not silently conforming like people expect her to...#that's the ingrained misogyny from being socialized in a patriarchal society speaking babes 😭#cannot stress enough how Arya is just an average little girl and what makes her behavior stand out is their society's strict gender norms#her life + learning almost entirely revolves around the fact that she is being raised to be a wife and people resent her for wanting more :#she is NINE in AGoT and her parents are discussing her refinement because /In a few years she will be of an age to marry/#the way misogyny is explored in Arya's story is actually so brilliant and well-written (+ underappreciated) though#we feel the full weight of how restrictive their society is through her POV and get the experiences of lower-class women too#which is why it's so significant that George wrote her based on feminists who realized they wanted more than becoming wives/housewives#she's one of his key characters who will /change the world/ but people think he's sticking her on a boat bc she isn't feminine enough 😭#thank god he's writing the books and not any of these reductive hacks who thinks misogyny is subversive 🙏🏾#sidenote: would've loved to see this from her POV to get her feelings when he said this cause I'm sure it doesn't match Ned's perception#considering he views her main issues as being stubborn/difficult while we know about the self-esteem issues she has
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katasstrophy · 1 year
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those tiktoks that are like “using my scary dog privilege to walk alone at night” but when you turn your phone the scary dog is just your insanely ripped and a little fucked in the head pro athlete boyfriend shidou ryusei<3
cheeky bastard wears a white muscle tank that clings to every sculpted crevice of his body, so flimsy you can see his nipples poking at the fabric even under the weak blare of the yellow streetlights. flexes his rippling biceps at you on purpose so the camera can catch the well defined veins running up his tan skin (WHORE) before tilting his head to side and flashing a predatory smile that leaves you with goosebumps forming in its wake, a toothpick rolled between his all white supermodel teeth until it catches on the curve of his slightly fanged canine.
and your followers may think, what a nice little detail, that the magenta of his irises matches the color of the choker resting all pretty and inviting on his jugular, but you know better<3 know it serves more as a collar you tug on as you take your personal little demon - your feral hellcat - on his daily walk. know it serves as a life line you dig your desperate, shaking fingers into, not caring if your nails scratch, because you know ryusei gets off on the sting of the angry red lines you mark his throat with when he unleashes himself on top of you.
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denim-devil · 1 year
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Dauntless | D.W
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Summary - A close call has Dean asking questions, hoping to gain some clarity of the current situation, the flames ignite bringing the butterflies that had once lay dormant, to life.
Warnings - Soft!Dean, Alcohol, Smut, M x M, P in A, Spanking (slightly), Dom!Dean, Dirty talk, Mentions of a certain white liquid I-, Kissing, FLUFFY DEAN-
“Not Proof read- sorry”
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Dean hasn’t realised.
How could he? With each swig of whiskey that trickled down his chest with a certain wanting warmth brought his thoughts into a swirling mess.
His eyes grew slacker by the minute, focusing on the way you laughed at his stupid mindless jokes. At first he thought it was because you had as much alcohol as him to succumb to the euphoria that closely followed but no…he saw the way you glanced, eyeing up his fully clothed form.
Dean tried to let it go, with each passing moment his focus grew shorter and shorter. Watching the older hunter shuffle in his seat, you had guessed the wooden structure left nothing but an aching numbness that chimed like church bells, one of his legs crossing over the other.
Unphased by the sudden bodily manoeuvre, you go back to sipping on the bronze liquid Dean happily shared between the two of you.
“So…what was that back there? Did you have a plan?” Dean rasped, plump lips lingering on the edge of the smooth glass, ridges of detailed shapes littering the outside, his fingers delicately gripping the cold object.
You shrugged allowing the liquid courage to take control, mind empty and your tongue dozily laying still in your mouth as if words themselves were hard to form.
The room fell in silence, the bunkers structure stuttering, disputing low rumbles, you had guessed it was the age of the frame, bricks beginning to fade with time, it was easy to lose focus, especially with experienced hunter sat closely next to you.
“No…”
It was clearly painted across your expressionless face, his eyebrow cocks as if confused but also curious. The whole ordeal in itself costed the use of your left shoulder for the next couple of days, the stiffness still lingered but with each sip of the beverage at hand left you feeling limp and unbothered.
He could see it, how the whiskey melded your new form as if it gave you the strength to hold your lips closed before letting something carless slip past and into the open, into Dean’s ears.
“No? Why do I not believe you?”
The questions at hand left you sinking into the rickety chairs of the library. Each passing moment ticked with time itself as if in every possible outcome it would leave you cold and trapped.
The sudden crumpling of his shirt, each wrinkle shadowed by the dim light above growing as he reached over, his hand settling above your own as if was ment to, attached to the skin of your open palm, fingers dancing along the heated skin.
“Tell me”
He ordered, his tone stern and deep, wanting to uncover the factor that had lead you into a certain type of doom and gloom.
At first you had tried gaining some sort of control, tying each and every word into a sentence worth while but with each passing second it proved harder. The truth was almost hurtful but it was also showered in gold, a blinding sort of glimmer that rolled up in the back of your mouth and out into the open.
“I’m afraid, Dean I can’t”
Your words were like a dagger. Surely you would hold and place every inch of trust and respect into the man that had made something out of you. His fingers almost soothed the irradiating warmth with coolness that managed to settle you, his eyes slightly flinched knowing that he could be the reason.
“Try me”
His words were sharp like the same dagger that struck him moments ago, cutting into your skin harshly forcing the lump to unravel in your throat, bubbling up into a strung up sentence.
At first you tried, cheeks twitching as you shuffled to face him, fearful of what he would think, how careless it was of you to be distracted in such a dangerous job.
“I- It was you…at first I tried…I really did to ignore it”
You stopped, palm growing sweaty as Dean’s own covered yours, which instantly calmed you like a bedtime story, putting you in a trans-like state which inevitably forced you to speak nothing but the truth.
“I couldn’t function with you so close to me-“
Dean gripped onto you hard, hard enough to make you stop like a deer caught in headlights. The glass he held so tight onto was discarded before he pealed his crossed leg away, both planted securely onto the cemented floor beneath.
You could feel it, the change. The way he fumbled and lost control of his features, how he somehow had gotten closer, his breath fanning across your now crimson cheeks.
“I nearly costed you your own life?”
His mouth hung agape, brows again burying themselves lower slightly. Nodding, eye contact seemed to be the only comfort, followed by his calloused palm that clung to your own tightly.
“N-No, not you, but…you were so close to me-“
It clicked. Like train-tracks slotting into its own fitted journey, his heart beat wickedly picked up, ringing in his own ears clouding his judgement. It was obvious now, just as time itself, it was obvious.
He grew closer, lips almost searching for it’s perfect surface, your own. He held his own, awaiting a certain go-head before taking ownership of the situation, eyes dimming from a emerald green to a suggestive darkness that rocked your entire existence, a growing lust travelling from the pits of his stomach upwards.
“How about now…sweetheart?”
The nickname rolled from his tongue effortless, stilling, you can only keep focus on how his whole demeanour changes much like seasons but this one stayed, the concentration that plastered across his face only drew the two of you closer until the gap was no more, his lips attaching to your own fiercely.
Dean wanted you in more ways then one, away from here, riddled away in his sheets, touching and holding you in every way possible.
——
You had no plans on messing this up.
Despite how small and rickety Dean’s bed was, you still managed to both fit onto it, slotting above his now naked body, hands and legs moving against each other igniting the everlasting lust you kept locked away for years.
It was easy for Dean, he was protective in ways that could seem possessive, loving in ways that could seem down-right heavenly, he had you right where he desired.
“I’ve dreamed about this…”
His mumble was loud enough to send shockwaves throughout your body which splayed itself across his own, against his body, somehow you had both managed to find a position that suited the circumstances.
It’s everything you had imagined and more, back pressed closely to his chest, his hands soothe small circles into your thighs before picking them up, just enough so they were level with your ears, body now folding in half just how Dean wanted you.
“Me to…”
You shyly hiss once his thick, reddened tip lingers against your pucker, his smirk growing once you needily whine into the thin air of his room.
“You want it that bad? Why didn’t you say so-“
His tone was deep and lust-filled, distracting you enough to push himself upward and inside, grazing the velvet walls you claimed, writing his mark with each inch.
“Dean-“
It couldn’t have felt better, biting your lips to suppress the hungry moans threatening to expose the two of you hastily gripping onto strong biceps wrapped around your thighs, slightly grounding you enough to keep composure.
He was thick and long, each ridge, each vein easily felt against the disappearing muscle that pushed the limits you were use to already, feeling full had never felt so good.
“You know how many nights- fuck; that I stayed up…” finally bottoming out, he stills allowing you to utilise the stretched out feeling, his balls pressed firmly against the cleft of your ass, enough to send you into overdrive, you had finally acquired all of Dean.
“Jerking off over you and your pretty little ass-“
Guttural, loud, pornographic. Each word described the temptation that riddled you both and the moan that slipped from his open lips moments ago, it felt surreal to be in the warmth and grip of your teacher, and the best hunter the world had ever had.
“I- I can’t”
Mumbling incoherently, blubbering as the tears slip from your damp lashes. It gave Dean both the pride and confidence to carry on, pulling himself out until his tip lingered on your entrance.
“You can honey, i’ve got you”
Sinking back in with ease, he could feel it all, how soft and wet and pretty you were for him, how it all joined and created something unfathomable, something from a porno Dean was frequent with, but this, this was real and it had his emerald greens rolling back into his head and his hands trembling against your sweat-slicked skin.
“Oh fuck- sweetheart, so fucking good for me”
He was almost insatiable, from his confidence to the cocky attitude that had you a mess, cock weeping and twitching with every word and every touch.
“Dean, feel so full fuck-“
Smirking against your neck, he breaths, tonging at the spot that had you shaking in his grip. Ultimately his stamina had grown, fulfilling every need you had, like a bucket list, checking off every single damn thought you previously had of him.
In time, his speed grows to a certain speed that littered each corner of the room with loud slaps, his balls smashing against your cheeks with urgency, although lewd and slick, Dean had no plan of stopping, sliding in with each lap that had now moved to the shell of your ear.
“Wish I had you sooner, woulda stopped me from fucking the wrong one-“
He was vulgar to say the least, trapping you against his body, you had no escape but that was the dream you were once sold on, now, it was a reality you wanted to delve in for eternity, wrapped up in his body, entangled with nothing but the lust and drive to see stars.
“W-Wish I had you sooner-“
Dean didn’t think twice to turn your head slightly with his strong grip, his fingers scrunching up your hair, smashing your lips together, engulfed by the flames that surrounded you both.
It didn’t last long, but it was short and sweet, all tongue and love. You were mistaken if you thought Dean had any softness in his bones when he began to fuck up into you without remorse, holding your legs up and wide, hitting the bundle of nerves that had you limp against his front.
Doe-eyed and delirious from his affection, each thrust sending you into a blissful heaven, you let go, the walls crumbling around finally falling completely, you spray into the open air, each glop landing onto the manly forearms holding you still.
“That’s it- atta boy-“
With a swift slap to your glutes that rang out like a rusty spring snapping, Dean holds you down by the hips, slowly rolling, riding out his high. A few “fucks” had managed to escape him, voice now hoarse from the lingering tipsiness.
Each splatter painted your insides white, finally claiming what he had dreamed of forever, you.
Panting, breathing in the same air, your both left feeling weak and limp but better, it was almost as vivid as the dreams you had experienced in the past that involved the very man that had you cum hands free.
He chuckles, green eyes flicking up to meet yours. His glare was sincere, sweet almost overbearing if it hadn’t been for the soft pat he gave your ass, slowly enveloping your lips with his.
It lasted longer then before, more lips then anything else, deep and inviting. Pulling away for air, glancing down at him had never felt so intimate, his smile big and bright, blinding in every best way possible.
“Not the first time that’s happened”
He points to the mess dripping down your thighs and backside, chuckling in amusement as you blush, burying your head in his neck giving him the right amount of space to slip out of you, already you feel empty, yearning for the next time.
“That’s the first time it’s happened…”
Mumbling against his neck, breathing his scent in, the aftershave that spoke to his character invading your senses, delirium flooding back into your veins.
“It won’t be the last sweetheart, for a very long time-“
You laugh immediately before pecking him on the lips, returning to nuzzle in the crook of his neck.
It was if you were both lost in the darkness of the room, tangled together, damp and basking the afterglow of bliss, witnessing the relaxed smile he offered was your golden ticket to a happy every after, his arms holding you close, he had you now and you had him…
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sergle · 8 months
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Worth mentioning that I'm partially switching doctors bc when I was running all over the place trying to get my surgery shit set up in time, and I went to the bloodwork lab for the second time, I vented just a little bit to the woman who's been working there a long time. being like. I've had to do this and that and my doctor said this and that he can't find this... and she was like Hmm. You have Dr. (name of my doctor), don't you?
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Sorta a continuation of this post.
I’ve been thinking more about reverse robins AU with Duke as the Dick/Nightwing parallel, and I have some ideas.
So like, Duke came first. He was the light to Batman’s darkness. I don’t know if he would start off with Signal or another mantle and become Signal later on, but he definitely had the bright colors from the start. Batman might be the Dark Knight but Duke was Gotham’s (K)night Light. Batman fought what hid in the shadows but Signal chased the shadows away, provided a guiding light home. He was the Sunshine when the never ending grey clouds got too thick. He was Gothams hope and inspiration for a brighter future.
But don’t forget he was also a menace. I don’t think it would go down exactly like it did in the comics, it was the early years for Batman-and for the villains as well. After Duke’s parents were gone (maybe by Joker still turning them mad with Joker gas in Joker earliest year, maybe year one for him or something else) he started planning. He started working harder in school, focusing on the sciences to one day make a cure but also would go out looking for his parents, like in canon. He would stumble into things way bigger, overhearing plots from villains and mafias and decided to become an inconvenience for them. Letting the airs out of tires when no one was watching, a fire alarm pulled right before an attack, door stoppers on the outside of each door to a warehouse trapping the villains who where planning inside. A sudden strong of bad luck befalling the main terrors of Gotham. It didn’t go unnoticed, especially by Batman. Duke kept his streak of being unseen until one night he crossed paths with the Bat.
Bruce for his part would have know about the little boy who lost his parents in the attack, and it would have also brought up some memories for him as well. He would have kept a small track of him, but noticed he was in foster care so didn’t do much until one day he came across the reason behind all the karma the villain have be having. Looking into the boys eyes and seeing the same fire that he had, blazing more fierce as Duke explains how he will find his parents and save them, and if he could prevent more bad things along the way he will. Something pinging in Bruce’s soul, this kid lost his parents like he did but not fully, and he still had hope among the need for justice, something that had faded so long ago for himself. He took Duke back that day, promising that he will find Duke’s parents, and kept a closer eye on him after the fact.
Duke noticed that after that day it became like clockwork, he would sneak out, search Gotham, cause a little chaos, get caught by the Bat and brought back to his current foster home. Bruce did some digging, looked for Dukes parents but also found out that Leslie Thompkins was the person in charge of Duke’s case. After a few weeks of the new schedule he met up with Dr. Thompkins. They talked about how Duke has been bounced around from home to home and sneaking out to find his parents almost every night. After a long conversation, and not as much convincing as one would expect, Duke found himself being driven to his next foster home, Wayne Manor.
Okay I’m going to leave this here for now. I ended up writing so much more than I though I would lmao. I have more ideas and will probably continue this soon.
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stealingyourbones · 2 years
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Jason’s body isn’t meant to exist in the mortal plane. His existence is an affront to reality. It started a year or so after being revived. Jason’s body is wracked with pain as his body flickers with unearthly static, his soul rebelling against being in the wrong plane of existence. The first episode lasted only a second or two but it felt like hours. After that night, the episodes of glitching back in and out of reality became more and more frequent. Jason tried his best to prevent any and all confrontations with his family. He didn't want to worry them that he was slowly dying. His spirit forcibly trying to go back to the afterlife when all he wanted to do was stay alive.
The episodes happen every week now and last a minute or more. Each one saps Jason of all of his energy and strength. Jason spends many days just staring, eyes unfocused towards the ceiling, and just wishing for hours on end for the pain to stop.
Danny first saw the boy around three years ago. A teenager with a white streak in his hair kneeling on a nonexistent surface and clutching his head. His mouth was open to yell but Danny couldn't hear his scream. The figure flickered in and out of existence like jarbled tv static for only a moment before he vanished.
Danny tried to figure out ways to locate the man but came up with nothing. He put the issue behind him as his new title of Ghost King required almost all of his available free time. For two years he has spotted the screaming man flickering in and out in the Ghost Zone. The man has been appearing more frequently now. He wears different clothes each time, sometimes wearing a strange red helmet, but his position is still the exact same: Curled in a ball, hands clutching his head, and mouth open in a silent scream. Each time he would flicker in and out of existence before vanishing back to where he originally came from. 
Danny didn’t know what to do, he never saw anything like this before and felt helpless. He contacted Frostbite who couldn't find any previous examples of this happening in the Ghost Zone. Contacting Clockwork the man just smiled and told Danny that everything is happening exactly the way it should.
One episode of the screaming man changed everything. He appeared directly next to Danny. The man was without his helmet, he was dripping sweat and his eyes were glazed over in pain. Danny acted on impulse and knelt down to the man to rest a hand on his shoulder to ground him. 
The second Danny touched the man’s shoulder he cried out in agony as he felt the mans pain as if it was his own. God, he’s seen this person for the past three years and did nothing as this man suffered to this extent? Through the pain, Danny promised himself that he would do everything in his power to help this man. Focusing on the man's spirit, He could feel the man’s soul pulling him back towards the mortal realm. Danny latched onto the man's soul and let it carry him to the man's physical form.
Jason was fully dissociating from the pure agony his body was consumed with. His skin flickering and distorting and twisting out of place, his vision filled with nauseating swirls of greens and purples. It was always the same colors, why was it always the same damn colors?!
Suddenly, the pain became a background hum. It was still excruciating but Jason had gained a frighteningly high pain tolerance over the last three years. 
Jason felt something on his shoulder and noticed a figure in his house moments before the wave of exhaustion from dealing with the episode hit him like a brick: A man in extremely detailed battle armor with a long flowing cape behind him stood hunched over him, grasping his shoulder in a vice grip. Iridescent white hair flowing in a nonexistent wind and face contorted in agony as he flickered in and out of existence. The man had taken his burden. 
The last thing Jason saw before his eyes closed was a glowing crown of dark energy glowing an eerie green light atop his head. Something about it radiated a sense of safety and protection. 
He didn't know who this figure was but he knew that for the first time in two years, he had hope.
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dilutedconfusion · 1 month
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I did a thing…again.
Just realized that ya’ll need to click for better quality for some reason this post looks especially bad 🤚
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ventiswampwater · 11 months
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Griffin Dunne as Jack Goodman in An American Werewolf in London (1981)
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