( @lacyydollette ) ‘s side blog for reposting fics && appreciating talented writers ୭˚. ᵎᵎ mature content ahead be aware !! use the tags underneath for more fic reposts 𓂃 ⋆
☄︎ Warnings: None, fluffy fluff
☄︎ Pairing: F!Reader x Dean Di Laurentis
☄︎ Rating: PG
☄︎ Words: 1362
☄︎ AN: written for this request. this was so cute ahhhhhh. disclaimer! i have not played the game so all of my knowledge is from watching others play through tiktok and youtube shorts!! So, i’m so sorry about any inaccuracies in gameplay. i hope you enjoy, comments and feedback are always appreciated xx
☄︎ Summary: Your boyfriend’s experiencing a severe attention drought because, digitally, you’re too busy falling for another...
The hours had stretched lazily across the afternoon and bled into the evening. While Dean had come and gone and come back again, you had barely moved from your position on the sofa. Usually, neither of you would mind that too much, your relationship had gotten to the point where you were able to exist in the same space with no words needed to be spoken.
However, ever since he brought you a new game for your Nintendo Switch, a purchase he now sorely regretted, you’ve barely paid him any attention.
Outside, the world was dark and quiet. Inside, the room was dimly lit by the colourful glow of your Switch, and the harsh white glare from Dean’s phone. The soft click-clack of your thumbs pressing buttons and moving the joysticks was the only sound breaking the silence.
“Alight,” Dean sighs, “explain this game to me again.”
The cushions shifted as Dean tossed his phone aside and got up. He walked over to your side of the sofa, scooting in right behind you. Without a word, you wiggled back into the warm space between his legs, leaning back against his broad chest. You lifted the Switch up, propping your elbows on his knees just high enough so you could both see the screen.
“Tell me about this thing you’ve been running for three days straight,” he whispered, his voice tickling your neck. He wrapped his arms loosely around you, trapping you against him in the best way possible. “I’m starting to get jealous of the attention your villagers, or whatever they’re called, are getting.”
When you didn’t respond immediately, too focused on the drama happening with two of your Miis, he leant in and blew a warm puff of air directly into your ear. A shiver ran down your spine, and you laughed, turning your head to look at him.
Dean was already smiling, but his smile grew when you looked up at him. His blue eyes bright in the dark room. He smelt faintly like the cologne he always wore and the shampoo he’d used from his shower after his afternoon practice.
Before you could lean in to smell him, he leant forward and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips.
“Hey,” you smiled, your heart doing that familiar little flutter it always did when he focused all his attention on you.
“Hey,” he said back.
You turned your attention back to the glowing screen. Dean hooked his chin over your shoulder, the stubble on his jaw scratching lightly against your skin as he leant in to peer at the game you were playing.
On the screen, you were hovering over the apartment complex. Around the town, chaos was happening. Dean let out an amused huff against your neck, his chest vibrating against your back. “What the hell is going on?”
“The game is just random like that,” you laughed, tapping the joystick to pan to the other side of the island. “They have a life of their own when you’re not directly influencing it.”
You showed him a few more things on the island, a fight had now broken out between Tucker and a random Mii and you were separating them.
“I made us all,” you grinned.
Dean’s arms tightened slightly around you, his interest fully piqued. “Oh really? What are we doing? Are we fucking?”
You snorted, nearly dropping the console. “Dean! No, it’s a Nintendo game please.”
“Lameeee,” he mumbled in your ear. “Fine. Am I at least as smooth and handsome as I am in real life?”
“You can judge that for yourself,” you chuckled, scrolling until the camera was over his apartment building. “Let’s check on you first. You live on the top floor, obviously. I gave you boyband hair, do you like it?”
Dean’s Mii, with perfectly styled swoopy hair and wearing a fancy robe, was in the corner of his room, hands slamming on the piano keys. You had customised his apartment with a load of expensive looking items, it was for Dean after all.
Humming proudly, Dean pressed a sloppy kiss to your neck. “I’m GLORIOUS!”
“I knew you’d like it,” you said.
“Now show me your Mii, I want to see what my gorgeous girlfriend is up to.”
Zooming back out, you scrolled until you saw your apartment. You clicked onto yourself, your Mii was sat on the floor with a pink bubble.
“What does that mean?” Dean asked.
You giggled to yourself, knowing that Dean was about to be in for the shock of his life.
“Let’s find out together.”
You clicked on the bubble and turned your head to watch Dean’s face drop as a speech bubble appeared over your Mii:
“I can’t hold back my feelings for Garrett Graham. I need to tell him how I feel.”
Dean went completely rigid against you. You could see his eyes widening as he stared at the screen, trying to process this betrayal.
Slowly, his jaw dropped.
“Urmmm, what the FUCK.” He lifted his head off of your shoulder, leaning back so he could look you dead in the eye. “Who the fuck is Garrett Graham?”
Your body jerked as you tried to suppress your laughter. “Well, it’s this kinda hot guy, he’s the captain of the hockey team and-.”
“No,” Dean interrupted, “I know who he is but, we’ll circle back to that kinda hot comment later, who is he to you there.” He emphasised that with an accusatory point to your Switch screen.
You turned back to the screen and tapped the bottom right corner. “He’s my crush, silly.”
Mii you was in the far right, with a pink arrow pointing to Garrett’s Mii with the words ‘ready to risk it all’ written inside. Above your digital head, was the word ‘crush’ in bold. Garrett’s Mii mirrored yours, his arrow having ‘head over heels’ written inside.
“Oh, so you’re ready to risk it all, are you?”
He pinched your sides and then moved his hands to where he knew you were most ticklish. You shrieked, finally letting out the laugh you’d been swallowing. Your entire body shook against his as he launched into a full tickle assault.
The Switch fell out of your hands, tumbling somewhere between your bodies, but you were too busy twisting and squirming in an attempt to escape him to care.
“Dean! Stop it,” you gasped, face flushing warm as tears of laughter pricked at the corners of your eyes.
You twisted a bit too far and tumbled right off the edge of the sofa. Dean followed you down without breaking his hold, his body instantly hovering over yours on the floor.
“This is the price of infidelity,” he said. He leant in and bit at the sensitive skin of your neck, leaving a deliberate and possessive hickey there. “My girl.”
You swatted at his chest. “Yes, you caveman.”
“Who is your favourite?” Dean threatened, his fingers hovering over your ribs again. “Answer quickly and correctly.”
“You! It’s you, obviously!” You laughed, your hands clutching at his shoulders to hold him back.
Dean finally stopped his attack, though, he didn’t move away. He stayed hovering over you, his eyes sparkling with amusement as you took in deep, ragged breaths, your chest heaving against his.
He dropped down to his forearms, trapping you beneath him, his face just inches from yours.
“Good answer,” he murmured, slamming his lips against yours in a rough kiss. You sighed, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer, but he pulled back with a smug grin. “I’m not letting you off the hook that easily.”
Right then, a chime echoed. Dean looked down at you, a single eyebrow lifting, while your eyes widened in pure horror. You were going to get in so much trouble for this.
Dean reached blindly up to the sofa, patting around until he found the Switch. He held it so you could both see what was happening.
On the screen, the game was still running, the Mii having made the decision as you took too long to choose an option.
Your Mii was officially heading out to meet Garrett’s Mii to confess her love.
you have given me the most insane john logan obsession. HES SMTH SERIOUUUSSS BRO 😩😩😩
i made a cute little list of things that are so attractive abt him:
- the whole “closed cans are safer” thing
- “where’s the bentley”, “good for you”, “i’m proud of you”
this sounds so delusional again, but you know how he has to work for everything in life, he’s a handyman low-key. he fixes people’s shit. ugh imagine him with like a spoiled gf or something, and calls you like sarcastic little nicknames, like “pretty princess” or whatever when you act a little bratty. omg i might indulge in this
- him going to malone’s in that mechanics outfit. he looks fuckimg edible with the chain peeking out. wtf imagine it dangling in your face i’m so insaneeee about him
- just him in that carhartt jacket with the chain around his neck
- him in that fucking workout scene with the bandana, and his arms are like coated in sweattttttttt bro
- deadass his voice. he sounds playful, yet serious, it’s a little deep, it’s perfect
- carrying hannah’s bike WITH EASE
- THE ARROW CELLY
- literally when his hair is all messy in the dressing room and his jaw is all tight and shit as he argues w garrett
- the fucking finger twirl
- he looks like he’s so warm. like good hugs, soft kisses, omg imagine the slight scratch of his facial hair as he nuzzles into your neck when he feels extra clingy
- in episode 3 (ig?) when garrett’s trying to study in the living room, and he walks in with those liquid iv boxes and like leans on the sofa?? omg.
𝐒𝐲𝐩𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐬: A summer fling. That's all it was. That's all you were meant to be. Yet Dean was finding it ridiculously hard to keep you off his mind 𓇼
a/n: I'm still watching the show so Dean and Beau might seem a little ooc. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy this little snippet! ( Main fic here! )
Dean, like usual, was splayed out on the couch. Shirtless with an empty beer bottle in hand, arm dangling off the edge carelessly. And a random puck bunny who he forgot the name of in his arms. He stared up at the ceiling blankly, with sweat clinging to his skin. His mind starting to drift due to the buzz from the alcohol.
Thinking back to distant memories. Not about the time he spent with the boys in the hockey house. No — But of you.
Dean had a crush on you for a while now. A long time actually. A year and a half to be exact. Which was unusual for a guy with a fuck boy reputation.
Since you were Beau's cousin, he'd see you often at family events or small gatherings with friends. And what started as casual conversations — gradually became something more.
On a deeper level? He'd became more comfortable around you. More open.
Soon, you become the person he looks for first whenever he entered a room.
He admires your paint stained fingertips whenever you finished an art piece and showed off your portfolio. Bright eyed and relieved whenever Dean complimented your work.
He also loves how you're so observant, have a great sense of humour, yet impossible to impress with Dean's charm.
Which was a lie, you are indeed quite charmed by him. You were just good at hiding it from him.
Unlike most girls he's met. You carried yourself with a quiet maturity. Meaning, Dean could rely on you for advice. Or emotional support after a bad hockey match. Feeling safe in your arms whenever you comforted him in rare cases where he felt vulnerable.
Then there was last year. Days spent in the Maxwell's summer home for the holidays. Was a memorable summer that he'd never forget. Beau was there too ofcourse. Protective over you as always, even if your mentality was much more mature than his own.
"Can you guys maybe not makeout on the counter during breakfast." Beau would say with a look of disgust. Walking by the couple in the kitchen with a bowl of cereal in hand. Mouth full as he spoke as he pointed at them with his spoon. "It's fucking gross."
You scramble away from the blonde man with flushed cheeks and messy hair. Dean, however, tried to go in for another kiss without a care in the world. Even with Beau's judging stare burning into his skull from behind.
"Sorry Beau - " you apologise with a shy grin, breathing heavily. Placing a hand infront of Dean's mouth to stop him from kissing you. Only for him to press a cheeky kiss into your palms. Making you laugh softly. Still, you tried to the insatiable man at a distance. "You heard him Dean. No kissing on the counter."
"Bummer. Beau could've been our audience." Dean mused. Reaching forward to tuck hair behind your air with a smug grin. The suggestive comment causing Beau to choke on his cereal. "DUDE! Nuh uh. Don't drag me into this!"
"I agree with Beau on that one." You chimed in. Getting ready to hop off the counter to make breakfast. Dean helped you in the process since last night's antics made it hard for you to walk. You hold onto his shoulders for support before pressing a small kiss to his cheek with an appreciative smile. "Thanks Deanie."
"Thanks Deanie ~" Beau mimicks you in an overexaggerated childish way. Breaking up the otherwise cute moment. When Dean sets you back down on your feet. His hand slides around your waist, tucking you into his side.
He had a sense of pride with you wearing his jersey. It fit you like a glove, like it was meant to be yours.
"Ah -" He spots an empty beer can in the corner of his eye. Snatching it quickly then chucked it towards the brunette. Hitting him directly on the head which even caught Dean by surprise.
"Oops. Must've slipped from my hands."
"Oh. So you wanna play it that way huh?" Beau sasses back. Setting aside his cereal bowl with a clatter. He then ran towards the cooler to grab a full can of beer, shaking it up violently. Looking straight at the pair with a smirk and playful glint in his eyes.
"Oh fuck no -!" Dean's mutters, eyes widening in fear before turning to you to lift you off your feet. You let out a surprised sound as he makes a beeline towards the backdoor. Beau chases after the couple as he opens the beer can with a click.
Dean almost trips over the wooden stairs that led to the beach down below. Feeling the warm sand beneath his bare feet with Beau not too far behind. Not even bothering to close the door despite being told off about it multiple times.
Dean turned a corner, kicking up sand when he does so as he made a run for it. All while you clung onto him for dear life as the two of you laugh uncontrollably.
At some point you look over Dean's shoulder to see that Beau's not too far behind. Hitting his chest dramatically to let him know. "He's gaining on us - Run faster! "
Beau catches up to them eventually with the beer can frothing at the surface in a menacing pace. Albeit the lack of oxgen going to his lungs since Dean was well fater than him.
"Can't run from me forever bro!"
Yeah. That time was long gone now. Just a fond memory in the back of his mind.
warnings: he calls you a bratty girl (teasingly) and slaps your ass once
logan slams the door to your dorm shut, a little out of breath. he just got back from a thirty minute drive all the way to hastings to get you the chocolate strawberries you were craving so much.
he can’t help himself. if you ask for something, you just have to get your way. no room for argument. what’s more, logan wants to go the extra mile for you. everything for his spoiled girl.
especially if he gets your soft kisses and warm hugs in return. that’s a great payoff.
“johnny, you there?” your melodic voice bounces off the walls before logan hears the light sounds of your feet padding over to him along with the tinkly sounds of your anklet following every step you take.
you’re clad in a tiny, baby pink tanktop and comfy shorts, glittery highlighter emphasising your beautiful cheekbones, and your glossy lips so plump and pouty.
all logan can think about is how badly he wants to kiss them.
“hi, baby!” you giggle excitedly, instantly throwing your arms around his broader shoulders, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek. “missed you, johnny.”
logan is not necessarily an icy person. still, he feels himself melt into a gooey puddle of warmth every time he’s with you.
“missed you too, baby.” he was only gone for thirty minutes.
he silently holds up the paper bag with the chocolate strawberries. “for the pretty princess.”
you pull away from the hug, opening the bag a little bit to take a peek at the content. “oh,” you mumble softly, tone a little disappointed.
“what was that, baby?”
“but i wanted them covered in milk chocolate,” you pout, eyes glistening a little bit as you look back at your boyfriend. “you got them with dark chocolate, john.”
this is so typically you. calling him john when things don’t go your way. logan cups your chin between his fingers, giving your chin a little wobble. “sorry, baby. my fault. i’m an idiot.”
you swiftly turn around, hips swaying as you walk away. “that’s right.” oh, you could be a brat when you wanted to be.
logan releases a soft chuckle at your reply, giving your ass a playful swat as he follows behind you, one hand jammed into the pocket of his jeans. “shut up and eat your strawberries, you bratty girl.”
dean’s chain swinging back and forth in your face… 18+ mdni. contains smut.
another grunt tore from deans throat, his head dipping down and eyes following down to where your bodies were connected. your legs wrapped tighter around his waist, keeping him planted deep inside you. sweat was beading in his forehead, damp locks of blonde hair sticking to his forehead. the air was thick, your bodies sticky and slick with sweat. you had lost track of how long you two had been at this and to be fair, it’s because you were under a spell.
dean’s gold necklace swung back and forth with each of his movements, completely mesmerizing you as he fucked into you. his heavy breathing matched yours, his breath mingling with yours. the pendant glistened in the LED lights dean had glued to the wall, which only mesmerized you more. of course you could feel him inside you. the way he reached all the way into your tummy, stretching you out… but you were also completely hypnotized by a stupid little chain.
“going silent on me already?” dean teased softly, eye scanning over your face, watching the way you eyes follow the necklace. your lips curled into a cheesy little grin, biting your lip as you had been caught red handed. your hands left dean’s scratched up back, his movements slowed as he watched you carefully. your finger hooked around the chain hanging from his neck, tugging it down towards you. dean leaned down, chasing the necklace as you guided it, and him, closer to you. he knew what you were doing, now and it made him smile, his dimples making your heart melt.
now, dean’s lips were hovering above yours, his nose brushing against yours softly. your heart was racing, thumping like a drum in your chest. you loved being this close, and intimate, with dean. finally, his lips pressed to yours, your arms wrapping around his neck to keep him pinned flush against you. he was still moving his hips, just much more slow and deliberate now.
he pulled away, just enough to really look at you, and there your eyes again. lain right on his chain again. he figured since you were already distracted by the little movements of it, he’d really make it with your time. dean picked up the pace, his lips slamming into yours, the bedroom flooding with the sound of his skin slapping against yours. your back arched, eyes rolling back as he desperately gripped at his flexing biceps. you felt like your body was ascending and gripping him was your only way to stay right here on the bed with him.
“don’t look away now, baby. keep your eyes on that chain, okay?” dean’s voice was soft, sweet, fucking innocent. he leaned down again, his nose rubbing yours. “open your eyes, baby. keep watching that chain.” he cooed, his voice so soft, it was melting and turning your insides to goo. turned your brain to goo too. your eyes slowly shifted back to his chain that was swinging back and forth directly above you. dean couldn’t help but smile as he noticed you finally looking at the pendant again. “good girl.”
within seconds, you were pretty much gone. completely hypnotized by the chain in your face, looking so pretty… on an even prettier man. the bedroom reeked of dean’s expensive cologne and sex, but neither of you cared. dean’s hips rocked into your yours, each thrust making your tits bounce. “fuck, you feel so good, baby. like an angel on earth. my angel.”
your eyes were trained on the metal still rocking in time with dean’s hips, a moan falling from your lips at how good he felt. his large hand splayed out on your outer thigh as he hitched your thigh up on his hip, giving him access to a slightly different angle. an angle that let him go deeper. “got a little drool.” dean teased, wiping the corner of your mouth though there was nothing there. okay, maybe you did have a little drool there. you leaned up, opening your mouth and gently biting down on the pendant swaying, your eyes locked on dean’s.
“shit, just like that, sweetheart.” dean groaned, the sound music to your ears. he wasn’t going to last much longer and he could tell you were close too by the way your pussy was gripping his cock. with just a few more thrusts, dean’s cock hitting your cervix, both of you came. hard. your body shuddered and jerked beneath him, toes curling and back arching. dean had let out this primal roar, his cock twitching as he filled you, painting your walls white. he gently brushed some hair from sweat slicked face, his fingertip lingering on your skin as he looked down at you.
after several moments of both of you just trying to catch your breath and come down from your fierce highs, you finally spoke. “i want that chain dangling in my face 25/8. not 24/7, that’s not enough. sun up to sun down. life or death.” too dramatic? dean let out an amused chuckle. he was definitely, absolutely, not opposed to that plan. whatsoever.
normally, if someone ever came back from an event or gala as prestigious as the ones you and bruce often go to, they would be knocked the fuck out and drained from all the social interactions and boredom
dont’t get me wrong, both you and bruce do get tired from them. but tonight said otherwise.
because here you were, lying on your stomach and arching your back, your dress rolled up to your waist so bruce could feel the warmth and flesh of your ass pressing on his hips. the rhythmic, deep pace of his cock stuffing your pussy did nothing but make you whine and claw your manicured nails on the leather seats of the limo, feeling the cold metal of his belt meet with your ass and your necklace bounce on your chest
“take it baby, take all of me”
“gonna leave this limo all filled up with my cum, yeah? you want that? you’re gonna have to speak louder, dear”
“keep that ass up for me, sweetheart”
was bruce fucking you in the back of the limo with the partition rolled up? yes. were you two loud? also yes. and did the driver hear anything? with the headphones that were blasting music in his ears, he didn’t even know that the richest and most powerful couple in all of gotham were getting the seats dirty
“gorgeous” he groaned, giving you another deep thrust and feeling his grip on your waist tighten. “absolutely gorgeous” bruce’s tie was thrown somewhere in the limo, the first few buttons of his collar were undone and the sleeves were pulled up to his elbows, his armani belt unbuckled and hanging from the belt loops of his pants
“couldn’t focus at that damn gala with you lookin’ like that” you felt bruce’s large hands slither under your dress to squeeze your boobs and pinch your nipples, making your body immediately jerk and his name leaving your stuffed mouth
“all i could think about was bending you over. your dress —hah— ripped in shreds, your body under my touch and squeezin’ my cock dry with that pretty cunt, just like now”
your sounds were muffled from the panties stuffed in your lipstick-smudged mouth thanks to bruce, spreading your legs more and arching your back to take more of his length— as if its entirety wasn’t already buried in you
bruce leaned forward to bury his lipstick-covered face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your perfume that had been clouding his senses all night as his chest was pressed to your back, groaning on your skin. “my gorgeous wife—” thrust. “my wife—” thrust. “mine” thrust.
his tip pressed on a spot that felt so good it made your pussy flutter— almost clenching more than it already was— over his cock, a choked groan of your name leaving his lips and his pace now speeding up and getting irratic to chase the high that was approaching both you and him
the gala may have ended, but the fun was about to start
—————————————————————————
masterlist!
(a/n: if asia asks, asia gets <3 little long for a drabble but we ball. im so shocked as to how i never wrote this for bruce.... good thing thats changed)
there wasn’t a single man on earth who wasn’t jealous of bruce wayne
i mean, look at him— he literally has it all. besides his face and physique, bruce belonged to one of the founding families of gotham and is single-handedly the richest and most powerful man in the entire city. not to mention, you were his striking and beautiful wife, always by his side as a wife any man would dream for
a group of men approached you and bruce’s table, watching you laugh at something he whispered in your ear with a faint smirk. “wayne” one of the men spoke, making both bruce and you pause your conversation and look at them
“we need to talk about business” the other said, his eyes darting at you before quickly looking away and clearing his throat, almost distracted by your beauty. i mean, you were wearing bvlgari
bruce raised a small eyebrow, his smirk fading. “gentleman i’d love to. but as you can see, me and my wife—"
“it’s fine” you turned to give him a small, reassuring smile. “i can go”
“are you sure, sweetheart?”
“mhm. plus, i spotted dinah with ollie”
bruce gave you a soft, worried look. a look that silently told you that you didn’t need to do this and that he’d rather spend the night with you. but your smile just softened, and you silently nodded as an ‘i’m-sure’, not looking offended at all. of course, you didn’t like it when your husband was busy. but at the end of the day, business is business
you got up from your seat, feeling bruce’s hand on your waist reluctantly slither away from the soft silk of your dress. but before you could fully walk away from the table, your hand slowly trailed on the top rail of the chair before gently lifting bruce’s head for you to kiss him from behind— a kiss that was soft and deep, a kiss that would immediately turn passionate if it were not for the group of men that were watching
you pulled away— despite bruce wanting more— before giving a polite smile to the group of men and walking away towards dinah and ollie's direction, wiping your smudged lipstick with your finger
meanwhile bruce turned to face the men, his lips now having very visible traces of your lipstick— all with no intention from him to wipe it off. instead, he gestured to the free seats in front of him.
“gentlemen” he spoke, not caring about the color on his lips while ignoring the slightly dropped jaws from the men and envious eyes. “lets talk business”
what a lucky man bruce wayne was, indeed
—————————————————————————
masterlist!
(a/n: its been SO long since i wrote wife!reader for bruce stop thats my #dada anyway i wrote this on the train in like 10 mins help)
Dick Grayson was a productive man. He was so productive that he only slept for four hours when he came home from patrol at two in the morning and woke up at six. He was also a very cheerful person so he was never grumpy due to the lack of sleep.
It’s like his body had made peace with the fact that it only got four hours of sleep a day, five if he’s had a particularly hard patrol, so it barely ever gives out.
Either that or the copious amounts of coffee he drinks.
So when he started feeling light headed and like his body was being pulled down by an anchor by noon, he ignored it. He didn’t even sit down to catch his breath or check his vitals, he just got another cup of coffee and went back to work without a complaint leaving his mouth.
He stared at the computer screen for another two hours before his eyes started to get droopy as his vision darkened. He simply got up and washed his face which resulted in a string of sneezes. He let out a curse as he felt his head starting to feel like it was being pelted with rocks.
He had realised that he was officially sick.
He didn’t let that stop him though, it was only two in the afternoon and he had work to do. Crime to solve. Lives to save. He only washed his face again and went back to his desk, setting down and grabbing a pen to make notes.
An hour or so later, the door to his apartment opened up and his girlfriend strolled in with a bashful smile on her face. But when she took in the sight in front of her, her smile disappeared and got replaced with confusion.
“Dick?” You called out softly, walking over to his desk where his head was resting and his eyes were closed.
He never took a nap. He was fine with his four hours, he literally aways refused a nap so when you found him in this state, you were not only confused but also worried.
You touched the back of your hand to his forehead, pushing the sweaty hair back to feel his temperature and sure enough he was burning up.
“Hey baby?” You cooed, gently brushing your fingers over his face in an attempt to wake him up.
“Huh,” Dick shot up, knocking your hand over and frantically looked around. “Oh, hi,” he greeted you with a sweet yet painful smile that had your heart softening and tugged you closer so you could stand between his legs.
“Hi,” you smiled back. “You’re burning up love,” you informed him, raking your fingers through his hair.
“M’fine,” he mumbled with a sleepy smile and pressed a kiss to your tummy.
“No you’re not, please get in bed I’ll make you some soup.”
“I’m really okay sweetheart I promise,” he reassured you but the string of sneezes that followed betrayed him. “I’ve had worse, way worse, a cold won’t kill me.”
“Dick,” you scolded lightly. “Please at least take a nap.”
“I don’t take naps,” he scoffed like the mere idea of letting his body rest for a bit offended him.
“That’s why I found you passed out on your desk,” you chided.
“I’m okay. I have to crack this case I’ve been racking my brain for hours,” he said, grabbing his pen again to go back to his notes.
“You’re no good if your brain gets foggy and your body gives out,” you sighed and grabbed the pen out of his hand. “Come on just get into bed.”
“Mhmmm,” he mumbled something unintelligible and closed his eyes, rubbing his temples.
“Dick,” you coaxed, pulling him out of the desk chair and into the bedroom. “Just lie down okay?”
“Okay that doesn’t sound so bad,” he breathed out and let you drag him to bed.
That’s how you knew he was really sick because Dick Grayson refused to rest even when he had a day off. Even on weekends when you took your occasional naps, he pressed a kiss to your forehead and sat down next to you in bed reading case files while giving your sleepy state occasional glances.
You sat him down on the edge of the bed and opened the bedside table drawer to grab the thermometer.
“Open up,” you said to Dick whose eyes were getting droopier by the second.
He opened his mouth and let you put the thermometer in before letting his head rest on your tummy as he let out quick short breaths and let his arms grasp your thighs with whatever energy he had left.
“You need to listen to your body boy wonder, this isn’t healthy,” you murmured with a frown and began running your fingers through his hair, making him let out little hums of comfort.
The thermometer beeped a couple seconds later and he took it out of his mouth before handing it to you. The little screen read ‘102’ which made you sigh.
“You’ve got a 102 fever and you were gonna fight it with coffee, hm?” You asked, looking down at his shiny eyes.
“I still insist I’m fine,” he murmured and let a sleepy and tired smile take over his face.
“I’ll get you some soup okay?” You checked before untangling yourself from him but he only tightened his grip and whined, gluing you in place.
“Stay,” Dick whispered.
“I’ll be back baby, let me take care of you,” you smiled and gently pushed him back on the bed, covering his body with a comforter.
“Don’t take too long,” he said with a pout, earning a chuckle and a kiss on the forehead from you.
Within twenty minutes, you were returning to the bedroom with a bowl of chicken noodle soup that you helped Dick eat before he laid back down. You took the empty dishes back to the kitchen despite his protests and grabbed a paracetamol and a cough syrup from the bathroom.
You handed him the pill and a glass of water and he quickly obliged, downing it without a peep. Maybe he wanted to heal as quickly as possible so he could go back to neglecting his body again or maybe the look in your eyes told him you were not about to take his shit. Either way, you were glad he had taken the medicine.
But when his eyes landed on the cough syrup in a little measuring cup on the side table, his eyes widened.
Because Dick Grayson, Nightwing, an adult man and a vigilante who had gotten drugged by poison ivy multiple times, who got shot at every night, who had broken every bone in his body, who had almost died on multiple occasions, who you had seen down neat tequila shots, hated taking cough syrups.
“Dick,” you warned.
“I don’t even have a cough,” he defended.
“It’s for precautionary reasons,” you insisted and brought the cup to his lips but he turned his face to the side and folded his arms over his chest.
“Don’t be a baby,” you groaned and tried making him take the medicine again.
“No!” He exclaimed.
“You’re a grown man!” You yelled back and got on top of him, straddling his torso over the blanket, making his eyes widen and his lips part.
You grabbed his face but he brought his arms up and held both of your hands in a tight grip, keeping them away from his face. You rolled your eyes and gave him a tickle on the side of his stomach where you could reach and the second his grip loosened on your forearms, you pinned his hands under your knees.
“You’re drugging me! It will make me loopy and I’ll be asleep for hours I have to go on patrol tonight,” he protested.
Little did he know that’s exactly why you wanted him to take the syrup so he could sleep for an hour or two.
“Too fucking bad,” you said and grabbed his chin between your fingers and thumb, puckering his lips so you could pour the syrup in his mouth.
Which resulted in Dick letting out a coughing fit after he swallowed the cherry flavoured syrup and glared at you with betrayal in his eyes.
“You’re cruel,” he huffed.
“Whatever,” you said with a victorious smile. “Go to sleep.”
“Come lie with me,” he murmured in a voice so soft you couldn’t help the smile that broke out on your face.
You obliged –flu germs be damned– and the second you laid down next to him, he clung to your body, resting his drowsy and sweaty head in your chest while his arms gripped your waist. You brought your hands in his hair, gently scratching and massaging to help him relax under your soft touch.
A few moments later, you felt his breathing get softer and slower and his arms loosening their death grip around you. You kissed the top of his head and brushed his hair back that was stuck to his forehead and gazed at his resting face.
He looked so childlike and small like this that you wondered when was the last time he had someone take care of him when he got sick. When was the last time someone he had someone take care of him period. He was feeling clingier than usual –which was not something you were complaining about, despite the risk of you getting sick.
His nose was a deep red colour, the same blush dusted his cheeks while the rest of his body looked pale. His eyes were half open and not in the way he deliberately made them look when he wanted to be in between your thighs and was trying to seduce you, but with the weight of his body finally giving out and begging to rest. They drooped so low and shone bright with heat his body was radiating, you could only see little slits of his blue irises.
“Good night boy wonder,” you murmured and planted another kiss to his head before closing your eyes and letting sleep take you.
men will walk into ongoing traffic and still be fine but a fever kills them.
likes reblogs and comments are appreciated! hope you enjoy <3
heyy can i request an smau with the batboys + clark where they or the reader refers to the other as their spouse to another person (like friend or coworker) while on the phone with reader and the text exchange is just them teasing or being flustered about the title since their only dating? thank you <33
My Husband
featuring: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Duke Thomas, Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent
Summary - They believe that you are fighting and try to make it up to you- only to find out you aren’t fighting.
Characters - Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd
Bruce Wayne
⭐︎ You and Bruce don’t fight often, which is why it makes it such a dire situation to Bruce.
⭐︎ Your fights are usually quiet ones, a comment here or there but no yelling or shouting. Bruce isn’t an explosive man, his irritation and anger runs cold. You match his energy in a way that is both good and bad, especially when you are fighting.
⭐︎ It had started with you getting angry at him getting home late from patrol. He was irritated at first that you seemed to disregard the people who needed him. Then after a few days he calm down enough to see it from your perspective.
⭐︎ Bruce Wayne is not someone who believes that actions speak louder than words so he calls up your favorite florist and sends multiple bouquets of your favorite flowers to your office.
⭐︎ He is slightly nervous to talk to you since you have been a little distant after your fight. Multiple times on the walk to your office he messing with his tie, just to give himself something to do to sieve off the anxiety.
⭐︎ You are looking at the note he told the florist to write when he knocks on your door. Your smile is radiant as you look over at him, no trace of irritation or anger on your face to be seen.
⭐︎ Bruce feels like he did a good job when you walk over to kiss him. He hasn’t had too much contact with you for a couple days since he was keeping his distance so he welcomes your touch like a man starved.
“What is this for?” You ask after pulling back from kissing him. “Did I miss something?”
Bruce blinks down at you in confusion, “You were upset with me about arriving home late, I am sorry for worrying you.”
A look of confusion crosses your face before you start laughing.
“The whole time you thought I was upset with you?” You stop laughing to give himself something a soft look. “I’m sorry Love, I was busy with work so you must have thought I was ignoring you.”
Bruce feels sheepish now that he got the situation wrong. “You don’t need to apologize for my misunderstanding-”
You kiss him mid sentence, cutting him off.
“The flowers are perfect don’t apologize.”
Dick Grayson
⭐︎ Dick would like to think that you don’t argue often and you agree except for the constant back and forth of him stretching himself too thin and putting everyone’s needs over his.
⭐︎ The fight happens when he misses a date because they needed his help in Gotham. He had left you a note and a text about it. There was a lot of apologies in both. But when he got back to his apartment all the lights were off and you were gone.
⭐︎ Your fights are usually conversations, there isn’t yelling involved unless it’s really bad. You always wanted to talk things out rather than just leaving them lie. So you leaving without talking about it made him scared.
⭐︎ Dick is a little desperate when he feels like he is being left. There’s an involuntary coil of dread that settles in his stomach every time. He always needs to make it right as soon as possible, he can’t wait because he is afraid of never seeing you again.
⭐︎ So he runs down to the 24 hour convince store a block down from his apartment to get, admittedly, a lot of your favorite candy. Then he breaks into the florist shop across the street to grab a premade bouquet of flowers, he makes sure to leave them money plus a little extra because he broke in.
⭐︎ He is stressing himself out the whole way to your apartment. The thought that you won’t have the window unlocked like usual crosses his mind. He imagines you locking him out and refusing to even see him.
⭐︎ When Dick knocks on your window at 2am you open it up with sleep still in your eyes. You look beautiful even half asleep, confused and in one of his old tee shirts. Your eyes eventually focus in on the bag and flowers.
“Dick? These are wonderful,” You take the flowers from his slightly trembling hands. “but why are you bringing me flowers at 2am?”
Dick pauses midway through climbing through your window, “You are mad at me for missing our date so I thought getting you flowers would help.”
Your expression softens as you take a deeper look at him, seeing the anxiety in his rigid posture and the desperation in his eyes as he takes off his domino mask.
“Oh baby.” You says softly and pull him into a hug. “I am so sorry my friend had to rush her pet to the vet and had no car so I drove her. In all the rush I forgot to text you that it was fine.”
Dick exhales, all the tension in his body leaving with the air. He slumps a little as the adrenaline from crime fighting and this whole debacle evaporates.
“Thank god.” He whispers as you guide him over to your bed and gently pull him down onto it.
“I will always tell you if I have an issue,” You press a kiss to his brow, “promise.”
Jason Todd
⭐︎ You and Jason try not to fight often. It reminds Jason of darker days and you just don’t enjoy the conflict.
⭐︎ But when it happens it’s loud. Jason doesn’t start out yelling, he doesn’t enjoy it. But that’s usually what it devolves into, the two of you yelling over each other over something you can’t even remember.
⭐︎ Jason always needs time to cool off after. He leaves the apartment so he can get some air, climbing up to the roof or going on patrol early depending on what time it is.
⭐︎ This time was a little different, there wasn’t yelling or raised voices, just a slow sigh and you leaving the apartment.
⭐︎ The fight started over a bookshelf. You were insistent that you could put it together yourself while Jason wanted to help. After a couple minutes of him trying to help you told him that you wanted to do it yourself. He left the room then a few seconds later you were grumbling, putting on your shoes and slamming the apartment door.
⭐︎ Jason knew that you enjoyed doing things yourself so him trying to help must have made you angry with him. He didn’t leave like usual, instead he began to clean. It was a nervous habit that stemmed from needing control over something. He left the book shelf alone because it was the source of the argument but everything thing else he could clean was.
⭐︎ You came home an hour later to a spotless apartment and dinner ready. Jason was moving around the kitchen silently when you set the bag you got from the hardware store on the counter.
“Thanks for making dinner Jay.” You walk over to wrap your arms around him.
He tenses a little and you pull back immediately.
“You are sending me mixed messages.” Jason says with a furrow between his brows.
You frown in confusion, “What do you mean?”
“You left earlier because you were angry and now you aren’t upset.” Jason points out to you.
Your eyes widen with realization then soften, “Jay, I didn’t have the right screw for the bookshelf.”
Jason feels the tension bleed out of him at your words. You hug him again and he won’t say it out loud but he holds you tighter than he has ever held anyone else.
“If I am angry at you believe me you would know.” You laugh.
“Good.” Jason breathes out in relief.
“Now,” You pull away and walk to the bag. “do you want to help me put this together? I am way past the point of having any pride to defend.”
He grins, “It would be my pleasure.”
Blue’s notes - Imagine being in a family prized for detective skills and misreading a situation lol. None of these men can have a straight forward conversation about feelings. Also Dick’s is so much more angsty then intended, it originally was just a funny misunderstanding then my brain was like ‘make him suffer’ and I succumbed to the voices.
let the games begin (nsfw)
poly!primehood x fem!reader
mentions: threesome, competitiveness, also possessiveness, oral sex (f!recieving), tongue fucking, fingering, sliiiight edging? dirty talk, petnames, praises, can we say overstim too, boobplay, groping, tip rubbing help wtf is that called, am i missing anything else
(the way this was supposed to be a drabble.....)
—————————————————————————
jason todd and clark kent— prime— only had one thing in common, and that was being competitve
so when you put two competitve people in the same room, on top of the same bed and eating you out at the same time, best believe there will be competition
“hey! move over!”
“and give you this pussy? fuck no”
you couldn’t believe what you were seeing-- two grown men, between your legs and facing your drenched cunt, arguing about eating you out like refusing to share candy. god, the heat in between your legs and them doing nothing about it made you frustrated
“oh shut the fuck up” you spread your thighs wider and buried your hands in both of their hairs to shove both of their faces on your pussy at the same time. and the synchronized slow drag from their tongues on your clit made you knock your head back with a loud moan, the sensation buzzing through
clark’s tongue was focused on your clit, the pace fast and quick and enough to leave you breathless, feeling his tongue repeatedly both play and abuse your clit. jason’s tongue was in your pussy, slow yet deep as his warm tongue was making your walls pulse like crazy
“that’s it, baby” clark purred, two fingers gently spreading your folds apart without his pace stopping, making sure your clit truly felt every part of his tongue. “tell jason who’s really makin’ you feel good”
that made jason roll his eyes, slowly retracting his tongue back, your walls now clenching on nothing. you whined from the empty feeling, but it quickly trailed into a moan the moment you felt two of his thick, calloused fingers bury themselves in your pussy till his knuckles were nudging.
the way his fingers filled up the space and went along perfectly with clark’s tongue was making your brain foggy. for two people who were different, they surprisingly worked really well together
“attagirl” a smirk formed on jason’s lips, his green eyes dark with lust as they were pinned up on you. “tell him whose girl you are” a choked sound left your lips when you felt his fingers curl in you, nudging in all the right spots
clark’s eyebrows furrowed in frustration, flattening his tongue and pressing it flat onto your clit. the pressure made your hips jerk back, a small yelp heard from you and your grip on his hair both twitching and tightening on his locks. now that formed a grin on clark’s busy lips
“you should feel the way she’s grippin my hair” he spoke from your pussy, resuming the insatiable pace. “says—“ lick. “a lot—“ lick. “doesn’t it?” lick.
your voice was trembling, arching your back for more of jason’s fingers, for more of clark’s tongue, for more. “jaso- ohhh clar- mph!” poor you couldn’t even get their names out.
and of course, clark’s words got into jason’s head, making him lean forward and grab your jaw with his free hand to pull you into a kiss— passionate, sloppy, all tongue and saliva— all while his other hand was still pumping his digits at all the right ways
“that’s it, gorgeous” he murmured on your lips, biting your bottom lip to slide his tongue in. “you’re my pretty girl, arent you?” his curled fingers were now nudging on a deep spot. and just by the way your clit was twitching on clark’s tongue from his licks, you were about to be close
and clark knew— of course he did; this man knows your body like the back of his hand. there was no way you were going to cum on jason’s fingers first, not when he was right here
right where you knew one last flick from clark’s tongue would have been it, his mouth detached itself from your cunt. that made jason swallow a frustrated whimper from you from the lost warmth and sensation.
but all was forgiven when you felt clark’s thick tip rub onto your cunt, hard and already leaking with pre cum. the feeling of his tip, rubbing on your saliva-covered clit with the pre-beads of cum made both of you moan
just like jason, clark hovered on top of you, trailing his lips to the sensitive parts of your skin and leaving open-mouthed hickeys and bites, saliva trailing all over. his hand went to your boob, squeezing and fondling it while brushing his thumb on your hard nipples, his touch making you arch your back to press your boob more to his palm as you moved your hips for more friction for clark’s tip and jason’s fingers.
all while both of them were mindlessly blabbering praises, your head so fucked you couldn't tell who was saying what
“ohhh fuck, even she prefers me more than him”
“cmon baby, be my good girl and prove him wrong”
“say my name out of those pretty lips, won’t you?”
“mmmm, that’s it. take it all, take it all from me”
let the games begin!
you know what would be hot…..a clark kent x the boy is mine mv cross over.
tags: pwp, handjobs, congressman!clark, cum eating, psycho!reader, breaking and entering, slight angst, body worship (700+ wc)
—
the television screen, mocking, casts a white glow across the room. clark doesn't recall turning it on, much less the news airing of superman in city hall, a news coverage from earlier in the day.
he turns to the source of his own speech, smiling, being the picture of hope when he felt like a complete imposter. his gaze is locked on the intruder — a figure perched on his duvet covers. it doesn't scare or deter him when he finally takes you in, the glass that was stilled, presses to his lips as he takes a healthy gulp.
"you've been…a busy little problem this week." he says after a beat, "making my job…more complicated than it had to be."
you grin at his gentle chiding, kicking your legs off his bed with a glint in your eyes. "complicated or better?" he tiredly moves across the space, turning the television off.
"just making your life easier, handsome."
clark's jaw visibly twitches at your purr, his glass of water thudding against the polished wood by his nightstand.
"…i wouldn't call breaking into my home in the middle of the night making things 'easier'."
your hand snaps out, gripping tightly around his wrist before he thinks to put a polite space between you both, and he lands on the edge of his bed. a surprised sound leaving him.
clark lets out a resigned, weary exhale. "listen. i don't have the energy for this."
your lips twitch. the insinuation was clear — he didn't have the energy for you.
"don't you wanna just…not feel at all? for once?"
your offer briefly hangs in the air, colliding with the gentle patters of rainfall hitting the floor-to-ceiling windows. "that's…pretty impossible. i feel everything."
"i know," you whisper, sympathetically, knuckles grazing past his sternum. "i see you working…so so hard. but it hurts here, doesn't it?"
the fabric there is dampened from his quick-drench in the fly back home, "that's not — … you don't get it, all of it is some…pathetic performance. this sham of a superhero congress…it's all pretend." he chokes.
"tell me where it hurts, congressman."
clark's jaw tenses as you shift closer, the veins tensing his pulse when your thighs rest flush against his. "everything," he admits, broken, "aches everywhere. behind my eyes, a constant gosh-darned headache —"
his breath stills when as your shadows case him, a hand comes up to grip your shoulder, flexing there. "my hands, they shake at all the promises i can't keep because this job is —"
you peel his hand off your shoulder to kiss at his knuckles, to his palm and his wrists.
" — i-is going against…everything i stand for. my chest just hurts from the lies i constantly find myself telling."
clark doesn't get to the end of his sentence as you lower your head, leaning in to trail gentle kisses down the column of his throat, where the rasp and shake of his voice felt warm against your lips. he relaxes with a low groan at the gesture that finally gets him to crumble.
"i can make it quiet." you promise in a soft whisper, sliding your hands past his belt to undo his buckle. "where does it really hurt?"
he let's his forehead slump against your shoulders.
"just … everywhere you aren't touching."
your admission makes your moves decisive, kneading him over his boxers. clark's body responds instinctively, hardening like rock under your touch. his breath warms your cheeks, ragged and full of guilt.
"this…isn't me." he manages, muffled in your skin.
clark's cock grows fully erect in your palms, his thick and rigid length pulsing with its own heartbeat, eager for friction.
you kiss his clothed bicep, forming a tight ring with your fingers around him, inviting the micro-nudges he makes, bucking subconsciously into your palms. clark hisses as you drag down to the base, dry-rubbing his cock.
it doesn't take long for his arousal to coat his entire length, making it easier for your hard jerks, "i didn't earn this."
you shake your head quickly, "you deserve this. all of it. you've worked — " your voice cracks from its intent delivery, pitching to a whine when he throbs in your palms, " — so, so fucking hard. you deserve everything."
clark's protest comes in the form of a strained whine, his hips, a mind of its own, pistons into the tight, hot ring of your palms. "no…i-i don't. traded — mmhn…hahh…m-my super-suit, for some cheque u-upgrade."
you watch clark with bated breath, his control slipping the more frenzied he thrusts, "no. you've helped people. and — fuck, wanna milk you until you're soft — until you're not feeling any pain."
clark's body grows taut at your confession, feeling nothing but the truth with the shake of your voice. he curses under his breath, spilling hot and thick over your fists. it coats your knuckles completely.
you hum in content, bringing your cum-slick palm to your lips, locking your gaze with his as you lap his release off your digits.
"gosh…you're — nuts." he rasps, the awe in his voice evident. and despite himself, his cock only twitches at the gesture.
jason who started smoking when he was a preteen in crime alley, and picked it up again once he became lucid after the pit. it helped him feel normal after returning from the grave; a rare connection to his life before. that, and the nicotine soothed his frayed nerves.
he knows it’s not good for him, honest! he won’t argue with you on that. it just feels too good; it’s too easy to lean on it when things get stressful. they call it a crutch for a reason.
you weren’t sure whether you approved of his ‘habit’ (admittedly he does look sexy), but all of his ashtrays were sterile and lifeless — colourless glass or featureless aluminum. the least you could do was bring some joy into it. one day while thrifting, you’d come upon a little glass ashtray, pink and heart-shaped.
a soft laugh rumbled from his chest when you gave it to him. “thought you didn’t like me smoking, baby,” he remarked wryly, turning it over in his hands. he planted a kiss on your temple and vowed to use it until he smoked his last cigarette.
***
over time, he develops a collection, courtesy of you. there’s a cartoon frog, a marijuana leaf, an intricate silver dish, a coffin (he finds this one particularly amusing), and a dozen others just made from colourful glass. a couple of them are tenderly misshapen attempts from amateur pottery classes. each of his safe houses has a different one — each ashtray serves as a little reminder of you when he’s away from home.
right now, just the sight of the smouldering cigarette in that glass heart dish is making his heart ache. his boots are kicked up on the desk. he’s got fifty different cctv feeds open on his dozen-odd monitors, criminal case files and breaking news pages, but his eyes are glued to that little pink ashtray.
fuck it, he thinks. there’s nothing going on tonight. all his contacts are reporting as planned, nothing of note has popped up, there are no big moves happening. his fingers twitch towards the dwindling cigarette. bringing the filter between his lips and taking a drag, he knows there is zero reason he can’t go home to you right now.
so he does. he stubs out the cigarette butt and shuts off the computer. the room goes dark as all those blinking monitors sleep for the night. a twinge in his chest; he’s here in a dark, concrete bunker and you’re probably cozied up in the living room with your book. it doesn’t matter. he’s coming home to you.
it’s getting to that point in the year where the evening air is balmy even with the fresh breeze, instead of piercing through to the bone like the few months prior. jason doesn’t even need a jacket, really, but he keeps it on because he likes to tuck his hands into the pockets. the magnolia trees have almost shed all their flowers in favour of glossy, green leaves. the sun only set a couple hours ago; the scent of sun on pavement is still ripe.
he practically throws himself up the fire escape. it’s frantic, almost irrational. he slides open the living room window, then there’s the thud of his boots hitting the hardwood, his eyes move towards the couch as if magnetized and—
there you are. his sweet baby.
just like he thought you’d be, you’ve got your book and your favourite blanket, cuddled up in your favourite spot on the couch, with your favourite drink on a coaster near you. something in his chest immediately settles, his mind goes quiet. that right there — the peace you bring him? that’s better than any nicotine rush.
after shedding his jacket and boots, he lowers himself to his knees on the floor in front of you. jason nudges your book out of the way and instead lays his head in your lap. deep breath in, deep breath out. your familiar scent fills his lungs (again, better than nicotine).
“you’re home early,” you muse quietly, fingers slipping into his fluffy locks. it’s late, but not according to gotham’s vigilantes.
“couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you,” he murmurs. “comms were quiet, no big moves happenin’ tonight. besides, i’d be useless out there if anything did happen; only thing runnin’ through my mind is you, angel.”
his gaze meets yours as he leans into your touch, making him look like a puppy in need of attention. jason’s eyes are an interesting colour which has always fascinated you: they’re almost hazel, but the green is so bright that you’re not quite sure it qualifies. regardless, it’s hypnotizing— he’s hypnotizing.
“i’m not sure what you’re trying to butter me up for,” you tease, “but it might work.”
“swear to god i’m not,” he replies, voice softened by your thumb now smoothing over his cheekbone. his soft (even if a little chapped) lips press to the fleshy part of your palm just below your thumb. “just… it’s stupid, but i kept lookin’ at that ashtray you got me. y’know, the pink heart? couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you.”
a soft hum resonates from your chest. at first glance, most people think jason is some tough, unfeeling delinquent. they don’t know how much he craves the soft warmth of your skin. you’d call him touch-starved, but you both know he’s not starved for it at all. not as long as you’re around.
“should we go to bed?” you tilt his head up a little more towards you.
those big, pretty eyes stare back. he nods.
“are you gonna go smoke first?” you ask, leaning down to peck his lips.
“don’t need it,” comes the answer. “so long as you keep kissing me.”
i don’t know what this is or where it came from but it’s been sitting in my drafts for two weeks so i’m releasing it like a feral animal. jason’s eye colour to me depends on my mood but i was feeling hazel today #canonwho
c/w ᝰ.ᐟ so much teasing, using panties during sex, unprotected p in v, over-the-panties stimulation, denial, mid-sex banter, rough-ish, pet names (bunny/bun, princess, sweetheart, pretty + no y/n), did I mention teasing, more evidence dean is down bad, post-sex sweetness + hunter davenport is still catching strays
He leans in and kisses you before you can say anything else. The kiss is messy and deep, all tongue and heat, breathless laughter whispering in the spaces between as he carries you toward his bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him with his heel.
“Fuck,” he murmurs as he breaks the kiss, reaching for breath, his voice low and thick. He sets you down and backs you up against the wall, his body settling against yours with a heavy weight that makes your breath catch as your spine meets it.
His mouth drags along your jaw before finding yours again, teasing you with a kiss before drawing back slightly.
“Been thinkin’ about this all fuckin’ night.”
“I’m here,” you breathe back, the words coming out soft and breathless against his mouth. “Don’t make me wait.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He takes his turn smiling into the kiss, sending chills down your spine, cocky and desperate all at once. He dips in again, kissing you slower this time, deep enough to make your head spin and everything else fall away.
“Clean sweep,” he murmurs against your mouth.
“Show off,” you whisper and he lets out a low laugh against your lips.
“Cashin’ in on that bet.” His hand wraps around your waist, the other gripping your ass, pulling you off the floor, into his arms again.
Your head swims as you kiss your way to his bed; your body melting into him, legs wrapping around his waist.
Your hands come up, settling around the back of his neck, your fingers drifting into the hair at his nape. Dean lets out a quiet breath and closes his eyes for a second.
“Jesus Christ.”
“What?”
“You got any idea how pretty you are?” A crooked smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “I’m so serious.”
“So sweet when you want to be, Di Laurentis,” you chuckle tiredly.
“Got a little crazy back there, huh, bun?”
“Uh, yeah,” you mumble. “You did.”
“You spent two hours makin' me watch Hunter Davenport touch you,” he mumbles.
“Nobody made you watch—”
“Couldn’t help it.” His gaze drops from your face, lingering for a second before making its way back up again. “You drive me insane,” he sighs before he kisses you again, your hand coming down to reach for the hem of his shirt.
Your fingers hook into the fabric, pulling upward, and he laughs softly against your mouth when he realizes what you’re doing, lifting his arms automatically so you can drag the shirt over his head.
His hands settle right back on you the second the shirt’s gone, leaning in to deepen the kiss.
“You know what the problem is?” He asks.
“What?”
“I don’t even care if you wanna be casual or not,” he mutters half-serious, half-laughing against your mouth.
“Dean—”
“M’serious,” he hums, the zipper of your jeans gliding down slowly beneath his fingers. “Just wanna end as many nights as I can exactly like this. Don’t even care if you make me place stupid bets and I gotta dust his ass every goddamn weekend. I’m in.”
“You’re in?”
“Mhmm.”
“Funny. Took Hunter Davenport talking to me to figure that out.”
“Damn,” he mutters, letting out a weak laugh like those words actually stung. “That’s what you think, huh?”
Your lips draw to the side, eyebrow arching, challenging him to give you a response instead of a question, and he nods like he’s accepting the challenge.
“You’re right… Shoulda told you a while ago. I deserved everything I got tonight.”
“You did,” you remind him.
Dean shakes his head and laughs under his breath. “Yeah. I did.”
He peels your shirt over your head next, leaving you in nothing but soft mesh, and whatever he was about to say disappears completely. His chin drops as he blows out a heavy breath. “What did I do to deserve you—”
“Just fucking kiss me,” you giggle and he lifts you easily off the floor, tossing you back onto the bed.
Your body bounces against the mattress, and before you can settle he’s helping you the rest of the way out of your jeans, tugging them down your thighs impatiently.
By the time you try to prop yourself up on your elbows, he’s already climbing over you, bracing his weight above you while his hands catch your wrists and press them into the mattress on either side of your head.
He looks down at you with a tilted smile, hair falling into his eyes, his chest still rising a little harder than normal.
His shoulders flex every time he shifts closer, his tanned skin warm against yours, his chain dangling off his neck, landing cool against your hot skin.
“Playin’ after you agreed to come up here was impossible?”
“You were winning.”
“Yeah,” he murmurs, pressing his forehead against yours and closing his eyes for a second, your lips barely brushing. “Still would’ve rather been up here.”
You keep lifting your head off the pillow to follow him when he pulls back even slightly, leaving you chasing his mouth. Each time you do it he lets out the faintest laugh against your lips, the sound making a steady pulse beat between your thighs.
His hands slide up your arms, gathering your wrists above your head in one hand. His body grinds at the same time, the rough denim of his jeans dragging against your panties.
The chill of his belt buckle brushes against your skin, pulling a quiet breath out of you. Your back arches instinctively, fingers tightening into fists, his fingers curling a little tighter to keep you in place.
His stomach tightens, abs going hard every time his hips rock, every little movement making you react.
His free hand drops between you to work at his belt as you kiss him through it, smiling against his lips when he finally manages to shove his jeans down far enough to give himself room to kick them off.
The whole time he keeps finding you again between breaths, refusing to lose you for longer than he has to.
You moan against his mouth when his hand cups your pussy, clicking his tongue like he knew this is exactly how he’d find you—soaking wet. “Yeah?” he rasps. “Thinkin’ about this all night?”
“Maybe,” you whisper.
“Too wet for maybe’s, bunny,” he mumbles.
You giggle, bratty and breathless, before his tongue slips into your mouth, rolling slowly as his fingers do the same, rubbing tight circles on your clit.
“Laughin’ at me, huh?” He asks. “Still think this shit’s funny?”
“Mhmm,” you whimper then gasp against his lips as he pinches your clit between his fingers, his lips sucking and biting down on your bottom lip just enough to pinch.
“Brat,” he mumbles, not sounding bothered by it in the slightest. A grin pulls at his mouth when your hips betray you, bucking into his hand.
Dean slowly rises up onto his knees above you, his eyes never leaving your face as he pulls down his boxers, his cock slapping against his bare skin with a snap. His eyes drop from your face, lingering for a second before making their way back up again.
“So fucking pretty for me.”
Your hands shift instinctively and he catches the movement, snatching your wrists again to push them into the bed with a little more muscle.
“Keep your hands where they are,” he whispers against your lips.
The mesh fabric between your thighs is already clinging to your skin, practically opaque from how wet you already are. He exhales slowly through his nose and shakes his head as he takes his dick in his fist.
“Pink?” He mutters under his breath, tapping the wet fabric with his tip, the precum gathered on his hard skin mixed with your arousal on the slick material separating the two of you. “You wore my favorite color.”
“Is it?” You ask—but you did.
“You wore this for me, huh?” He breathes. “Could’ve told me before I started throwing shit, huh?”
“Unfortunately that was hot,” you whisper.
Dean’s head drops immediately.
“I knew you’d like that shit, bun,” he chuckles. “Damn, we’re a fucking problem, huh?” He laughs against your lips as he traces his dick along your slit. The fabric drags against his sensitive skin, rubbing along you with every slow pass.
He thrusts his hips forward, the tip pressing there, and warmth spreads through your body despite the thin barrier still between you.
The pressure alone is enough to pull a moan from both of you. You bite down on your lip, both of your hands clawing into the sheets beside your head, twisting the fabric between your fingers as his cock rubs over your clit again and again.
Your eyes roll back as he spits on the place where the two of you meet, his hard cock slicking through the wetness, stroking in a rough, steady rhythm.
Your tongue runs along your bottom lip and the knot in your stomach tightens. Your pleasure builds, the sight of his strong body rolling into you without penetration doing nothing but teasing just how deep his cock would go, pre cum dripping off his tip as it drags across your skin.
“Yeah?” He pants. “C’mon, bunny—”
“Shit,” you whimper, matching his movements with a swivel of your hips.
Dean keeps talking you through it, his voice low and warm as the praise slips out between sharp breaths. “Fightin’ so fuckin’ hard,” he tells you, looking up at your hands as you white-knuckle the bedsheets; looking down at your thighs to watch them quake. “You gonna cum for me? I know you want to,” He grunts and you whimper a ‘yes’.
You cum with his name on your lips and your pussy pulsing around nothing as he continues to stroke. Your eyes pinch shut and your hands reach for him quickly, grabbing him by the hair and the neck to pull him to your lips.
He swallows your moans, not letting up his movement until you're melting underneath him, your mind doing the same.
He grips you firmly and shifts your body in one smooth motion, guiding you forward and turning you until you are on your hands and knees, his big body pressing flush behind you, hard cock swinging between your thighs.
Dean’s hands settle on your hips first, sliding a little higher until his palms are full, squeezing and kneading your ass in his hands. His thumbs drag slow circles over your skin while you glance back over your shoulder at him, and the smugness painted all over his face starts to bleed out of him.
“Probably shouldn’t have told me you liked that,” he murmurs quietly, his thumbs tracing along the hem of your panties like he’s deciding whether to move them aside or make you wait, choosing the latter, snapping the fabric against your skin with a smirk. “Gave me way too much information, sweetheart.”
You laugh and roll your eyes, still trying to catch your breath. “And what information did I give you, Di Laurentis?” You mumble as his hand leaves your body and his fingers curl beneath your chin.
He guides you back toward him so your spine arches and your shoulders dip, bringing your mouth close enough that he can lean forward and kiss you over your shoulder.
“That you like me jealous. That you like me losin’ my mind over you. Were you trying to make me jealous, baby?” He murmurs against your lips.
You smile softly at that, catching his mouth for a second, sucking and tugging before you pull away. “I’d never,” you whisper and he laughs against your lips.
“I don’t share real well.” He smiles playfully, spanking your thigh, making you press your ass into him further. His eyes lock onto yours. “And then you’re gonna tell me that's what turned you on?”
“Doesn’t sound like something I’d say,” you mumble and he just smiles, still toying with you.
“Bullshit.” The words come out through a tight laugh as his hands return to your hips, sliding lower again as he shifts behind you. His palms spread over you while he adjusts his position slightly.
Every inch of his body gives him away—you can see it all over his face, feel how painfully hard he is when he slaps his dick against your ass but still he resists.
You reach down instinctively, your fingers brushing the edge of your panties as you start to shift them aside.
“Hands on the bed, bunny.”
“Dean,” you scold, but all he does is snicker, his hand cupped below your lips for spit.
“Put that mouth to good use—been causin’ enough problems with it all night,” he taunts as you spit in his hand. “Knew you were enjoyin’ yourself.”
He rubs the spit over his stiff cock, eyes unwavering on your body. His hands settle on your ass, thumbs spreading you apart as he glides his dick through the narrow space between them.
Stroke after stroke, tease after tease, his heavy balls slap against your clit with each push of his hips, making the muscles in your body jump with sensitivity.
You look over your shoulder with a pout. A quiet chuckle slips out of him. “You think poutin’ is gonna help?” He murmurs, his voice softer now. “Like I’m gonna feel bad for you?”
“Maybe,” you breathe.
A laugh slips out of him. “S’fuckin’ adorable,” he breathes and just when you think you won, he grips your panties and thrusts, his thick dick tracing between your ass, tip pushing against the rough mesh of your panties, still not giving you what you want.
“So damn wet,” he groans as his balls finally slap against your pussy, skin against skin, the wet smack filling the room along with his moans as you whimper and whine. “Shit, I could probably get off just like this—”
You scoff through a sharp breath, feeling yourself getting closer and closer from the smacking of his balls against your clit alone, but you want more.
“Where the fuck are you goin’?” He laughs, catching you as you crawl forward like you've finally had enough, yanking you back, grabbing your panties in his fist, just to wrap them around the base of his cock, binding you together before he pushes deep in your pussy.
Your moans blend together, your head falling forward and his throwing back as he bottoms out completely.
“Oh—Oh shit, baby,” he groans, stalling out for a moment as your wet warmth surrounds him, your body squeezing him tight. So wet he’s pinching his eyes shut, thinking about anything else but the moment to keep from cumming on the spot.
His hips draw back, the panties tightening around his cock the farther he pulls away. The delicate stitching strains with it, sounding like it might snap.
He presses forward slow, watching his dick dip deep. The panties wrapped around him make his cock redder, the veins mapping each inch standing higher—until his body is flush with your ass.
“Fuck, Dean,” you moan, rolling your hips a little, his blunt fingernails digging into your ass at the feeling.
The air knocks out of your chest as he pounds into you, the wet mess that he made squelching through the room, both of you sure you aren’t going to last much longer like this.
“Feels so damn good,” he grits out, one hand landing against your shoulder before dragging down your arm, searching for your hand. His fingers wrap tightly around yours, pinned against your back, your face coming down to press against the mattress as he cracks you at the perfect angle.
You whimper that you’re close, the words barely making it out of your mouth. “Fuck, I’m cumming,” Dean stammers, and his grip tightens around your hand, your pleasure enough for him to break, jaw tightening, brows furrowing, filling you up but refusing to stop until you finish.
You follow close behind him, pussy fluttering around his cock as it throbs inside you, leaving him sucking in a breath as you milk him dry.
Dean’s grip is still locked with yours when he finally shifts. The room around you is heavy with heat and sex, but the weight that had been sitting on your shoulders all night is gone.
He pulls you back against his chest, the two of you still on your knees, his skin damp and his heart thundering against your back as you both try to catch your breaths. He presses a soft kiss against your shoulder and then another against the side of your neck, adrenaline leaving his lips trembling against your hot skin.
His arms wrap around you a little tighter, nuzzling into your neck like he can’t help himself.
“Good thing you wore these for me,” he mutters. “M’sorry, pretty. I’ll buy you a new pair, yeah?” You whimper as he pulls out, the loose panties tumbling uselessly off your hips.
Dean grabs for you, rolling you on top of him. Your hands rest on his chest while his big arms wrap around your body, keeping you close.
He looks up at you and sighs, brushing your hair out of your face, amusement pulling at the corner of his mouth before he speaks.
“Fuck, that was incredible”—ding!
Your phone lights up in the pocket of your jeans half-hanging off the mattress. You blow out a shaky breath, muscles trembling, reaching over for it.
“A deal’s a deal,” he murmurs, warm against your skin, chuckling through the exhaustion. You pull your phone out and look back at it, a message telling you to come find him later, despite knowing full well where you are and who you’re with.
His palm rests solid on your hip, tracing slow circles over your skin absentmindedly.
Dean rolls his eyes and takes the phone from your hand, jaw tightening for half a second before he drops it onto the mattress.
“I don’t give a shit,” he murmurs quietly.
“You don’t care?” you whisper, and a little panic sets in. You can see it on his face. He cups your cheeks in his hands, guiding your gaze to him.
“Woah, bun. Just—no. ‘Bout you? Absolutely. About him? No. I don’t give a fuck. I mean, look at where I am, huh?” He mumbles, pulling you down into a kiss.
You let out a little sigh against his lips, relief and satisfaction mellowing you out.
You melt into him as his rough fingers trace lower, moving down your spine and back up. He smiles up at you before pulling you down into another kiss.
“I’m in,” you breathe and he hums out a satisfied groan that buzzes all the way to your toes. His grip on you tightens and you gasp when he rolls you beneath him.
“You serious?”
“Yeah,” you whisper. Dean stares at you for a second before dropping his head with a laugh, chain swinging loosely off his neck.
“Thank God.”
“What?” You ask curiously as your hands wrap around the back of his neck, fingers sliding into his messy hair.
“Would’ve been real fuckin’ awkward if I went downstairs and lost that bet to Logan.”
Your lips fall open in disgust, nose scrunching up. “You were betting on me?” And again, his eyes go wide as he scrambles to explain himself.
“Bunny—Baby, c’mon now,” he chuckles, his voice raspy and deep. “On us, alright?” He corrects himself. “And I’m just kiddin’, alright?”
You roll your eyes away and he grabs your cheeks with a single hand, turning your face back toward him.
“Besides,” he murmurs, his thumb dragging slowly across your cheek.
“Besides what?”
“Shit wasn’t exactly a fair competition.”
“Why not?”
Your hand drifts down his arm, fingers tracing over the hard curve of his bicep before settling on his skin, squeezing and feeling the muscle tighten underneath when he leans closer.
The corner of his mouth lifts as his lips brush softly against yours.
you take control in bed and rafe can't handle himself (18+, smut)
"you want to what?" rafe asked, not really paying attention to your words, his eyes still glued to his book. "i-i want to take control in bed rafe" you said, raising your voice from a barely audible whisper to a slightly louder tone.
he doesn't even turn to you at your claim, chuckling softly "that's real funny baby" you huffed, he wasn't taking you seriously at all. you moved quickly so that you were sitting between his legs that were spread out on the bed, staring at him as he didn't even move to look at you.
you wrapped your fingers around the top of his book, pulling it back softly so he had to look up at you. rafe seems to pay attention to you now, watching you with a bored expression. "im being serious rafe, i think id be good at it" you stated as he brought his hand up to your head and tuck a piece of loose hair behind your ear. "good at what baby?"
you rolled your eyes at his question, does he ever listen?
"good at being in charge, you know, all bossy and controlling." you pouted as he raised his eyebrows suggestively "i am not bossy and controlling" rafe answered, clearly not believing the words coming out of his own mouth as he played with the hem of your sundress.
you narrowed your eyes at his claim, causing him to sigh. "please rafe, please, please, please. I promise i'll do good!" once you see him roll his eyes and sigh, you know you've cracked him.
and that's how you ended up straddling his toned shirtless waist, clad only in your panties as you peppered kisses softly down his chest. he stared at you as you got to his v line, his cock standing tall and oozing with pre-cum.
"you ready rafe? remember your safe word alright?" he tried to mask his chuckle at your statement, ticking his jaw to the side. "yes baby, i remember the safe word, think i'm gonna have to use it?"
you shrugged at him, extremely distracted by his massive cock merely inches from your face. you placed a small kiss to the base, leaning your head on his inner thigh as you pumped him up and down slowly.
you heard him inhale sharply, restraining himself from grabbing your head and shoving your throat all the way down his cock until you gag. he watched the thoughts spin in your head as you left one last kiss on the tip of his dick, shifting around so your entrance was now in line with his cock.
he groaned as he entered you, your walls so impossibly tight around him. you lowered down slowly on him, squeezing your eyes shut at how fucking massive he is. you had to brace yourself with your hands on his chest as he bottomed out inside of you, hitting places that made you whine. you lifted your hips up slightly, you knew that neither of you could handle him that deep inside without cumming in two seconds, though he would never admit it.
you looked at rafe with impatience, waiting for the feeling of his death grip on your sides as he helped you ride him, but it never came "rafe, what're doing?" you asked, feeling impossibly full and needing to move. "what do you mean princess? you're moving us. you're in charge."
"o-oh, right." you squeaked, taking a second to breathe and ground yourself before slightly lifting your hips up and slamming back down. you never thought it would be so hard to ride rafe without his hands guiding your body and lifting more than half of your weight above him, but then again, you had never thought you were ever going to be in control.
your thighs burned as you lifted yourself up for the third time, refusing to look at rafe's smirking face at your restlessness. you nearly felt bad for rafe in that moment, you didn't even realise how much hard work went into being in charge.
you don't have nearly as much stamina as rafe does, and it showed through your now shaky thighs and unstable strokes of your hips. "goin' a bit slow baby, are we getting tired already?" you didn't even have to look at him to see the cocky smile on his face. not ready to admit to him that you were wrong, an idea popped in your head.
you felt him twitch inside of you as you sat balls deep on his cock, rocking forward so there was no part of his dick that wasn't buried in you. he snapped his head your way, parting his lips softly and taking a deep breath. you didn't move for what felt like hours, which in reality was only a few seconds, your walls squeezing him nearly out of you.
"oh so you want to play dirty baby?" he asked, moving his hands quickly to your ass and landing a sharp smack to your skin before kneading the area. "i don't know what your talking about" you stated, trying not to show how close you were to moving so you didn't explode from pleasure.
"god, you're such a fucking brat" he spat, taking your wrist in his hand and twisting your arm so it was behind your back, pushing your body so you were now laying on his chest. you let out a moan as he started slamming into you at a ruthless pace, his strokes deep and uncontrolled.
"is this what you wanted baby? for me to lose my fucking mind? hmm?" he asked, knowing in your mushy state that you couldn't give him an answer that wasn't purely unintelligible babbles or moans. he took his free hand and grabbed your chin, lifting your head up so you had to look at his face as he fucks you.
he watched you flutter your eyes shut, biting your lip and going limp in his arms. he knew that face. you were about to cum, hard. "come on baby, give it to me. you got it, i got you" he chanted, his strokes turning sloppy as he was nearly at his breaking point.
"atta girl, that's my pretty girl" he sighed as you came around him, falling into his body as you felt his load empty out into you with a groan. "r-rafe" you whimpered, coming down from your immense high as you both made no move to let his dick slip out of you. "yeah baby?" he answered, wiping your hair away from your face softly.
"i love you" you spoke. he smiled down at you, god you were just so sweet, especially after he just destroyed you on his cock. "I love you too princess. did so good for me, always do" letting out a content sight as he kissed the crown of your head, you heard his voice again.
"hey baby?" he asked, running his hands up and down your back with a soft touch. you hummed at his question, inviting him to speak.
"never fucking ask to be in charge again, or you won't like what'll happen next."
-> when you agree to go to javi's holiday/company launch party, you don't expect to end up in bed with his cofounder, the most aggravating man you think you've ever met.
☆ on call — mr argumentative pt2 (🌶️):
-> you realise detaching from scott while pregnant is gonna be a little harder than you think
☆ indecent proposal (🌶️ ):
-> scott comes over one day with an interesting proposition
☆ just friends? (🧸, 💌):
-> scott gets a little offended when you refer to him as "just a friend" after running into some of your friends on a family day out.
☆ perfect little valentine (🧸) :
-> scott takes your daughter out for valentine's day
☆ big green monster (🧸, 💌):
-> Scott finds himself consumed with jealousy when Lacey lets slip that she heard you talking to a mysterious guy
☆ special prize (🌶️):
-> when your five-year-old daughter asks for a sibling as a reward for her good behaviour, Scott wastes no time in making sure she gets what she wants
☆ you've got mail! (🧸):
-> Scott takes you and your daughter out to his parents' cabin for her winter break.
🏷️ if you'd like to be added to my scott miller taglist please go this post 🩷
