tidbit-fanfic

[tidbit-fanfic]

"Did you know people are masturbating to your smut fics-- 🤢" I hope they get twice as wet as I did writing it, mind your fucking business.

[tidbit-fanfic]

[tidbit-fanfic]

As an interdimensional, time and space traveler, some things you can’t save. Or some ones. Or some times. So when a major event occurs, it forces you to fix it, one universe at a time, all while managing some nagging feelings a couple super soldiers stir up. 

TW: Pregnancy mention (its Reader, but a variant Reader), one use of y/n, TBD

A/N: Argh. Brainstorming led to this abomination that will probably end up being a multi-chapter series (my first!). It’ll definitely include some multiversal madness, which I am beyond excited to dig into, as well as some angst, maybe even smut? We’ll see. Please join me on this journey, and if you wish to be tagged, please let me know! 

The world fell into chaos when the blip happened. And, of course, in the middle of chaos, an evil always surpasses and thrives. Yours? Vought. The creation of superheros in the ashes of the fallen Avengers, and you were their first creation, the beginning. Vought was thrilled, you weren't as excited. Being a test subject wasn’t in your plans. And yet here you were, jumping from timeline to timeline, universe to universe. 

The creation of the Fracture wasn’t something you remembered, and as far as you could tell, there wasn’t a creation. The Fracture just was. So you jumped, trying to find a fix, a way to dissolve all the universes into one, the right one. You thought you’d seen it all. Until you knew, you hadn’t.

Stepping through the rip, after countless universes of nothing but pain, the clear sky and green grass seemed foreign. But the worst part? Seeing yourself staring back at you, the one thing you strived not to do. They smiled, cocking their head to the side, eyes searching you. “You haven’t found them yet?”

“Them?” Your brows furrow, watching as the other you rested their hands on their belly, clearly pregnant. They nod, rubbing soothing circles into their abdomen. “The boys? Our boys?”

You shake your head. “What are you talking about?”

“You definitely haven't met them yet, although them not following in behind you is a major sign.”

“I don’t let anyone follow.” You state, looking back through the rip, into the desolate wasteland, staring back at you, empty, save a few tumbleweeds. With a quick flick of your wrist, the rip stitches itself back together. The other you simply watches, a knowing smile resetting across their features. They seem…happy. Something you never thought you could be. But the proof is here, standing in front of you, pregnant with some man’s baby. 

“You’re best to keep going. Oh, and y/n?”

“Yes?”

“Be patient for them. All of them.” 

You tilt your head in question, before a rip opens and sucks you into another whirlwind of universes. Their words made no sense. But you had a feeling they were right about something. 

Step through?

[tidbit-fanfic]

Fanfiction is so silly. I am playing with my dolls and people are coming over to watch. Some of them even clap and give me compliments. And when I'm done playing, I can go and watch other people play with their dolls.

[tidbit-fanfic]

no because i have the slightest feeling that Mark Meachum is the third brother to Russel and Beau. The triple threat, the reason i have three holes…we shall see….(total not plotting a fic with this, while i need to work on my current wip.)

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AND WE'RE PREGNANT! A new fic should be dropping here soon. I'm so excited for this! I'm beyond excited for you all to read it as well, (although it is a self-indulgent fic). Post date is TBD, but trust me, I'm working hard on this.

[tidbit-fanfic]

im in the kitchen...cooking up something...we'll see how this goes....

[tidbit-fanfic]

Earn Your Stars

Summary: Soldier Boy shows you whose boss.

Warnings: SMUT!!, rough play, possessive Ben, Dirty talk, oral (m receiving), rough sex, dirty talk, mild degradation, praise kink, dom/sub, light choking, rough sex, spanking, manhandling, overstimulation, Power play, impact play, spit, pain/pleasure, tears, possessiveness, MINORS DO NOT READ!

WC: 2.3K

Read on ao3!

The bunker smells like blood and gunpowder.

You should be asleep. The mission’s over, your body sore in places you didn’t know you had. But you’re not asleep. Because he’s watching you.

Soldier Boy leans in the doorway of your temporary quarters, arms folded, broad chest rising and falling under that tight black tee. He doesn’t speak. Just looks — slow and heavy — like he’s deciding whether to eat you alive or fuck you through the wall.

Maybe both.

You meet his stare with a raised brow. “You gonna keep watching, or are you planning to say something?”

He smirks, but there’s nothing sweet about it. “You think you earned the right to talk to me like that, sweetheart?”

You swallow, but don’t back down. “I think I saved your ass back there.”

He pushes off the doorframe, steps inside like he owns the room — owns you. “Yeah? You want a medal for that?”

“I’d settle for a ‘thank you.’”

Soldier Boy stops in front of you, towering, heat radiating off his body like a storm. He tilts your chin up with two fingers, gaze narrowing.

“Nah. You want something else.”

You don’t reply. Can’t. His hand slides down your neck, rough calloused fingers skimming over your collarbone until he’s fisting the front of your shirt, yanking you flush against him.

“You walk around here like you’re not begging for it. But I see it. Every time I look at you.”

Your breath hitches. He smiles, wicked and slow.

“So why don’t you quit pretending, and let me give you what you’ve been aching for?”

He doesn’t wait for permission. His mouth crashes against yours — all teeth and heat and tongue, stealing the breath right from your lungs. His grip is firm, unrelenting, like he’s been waiting to ruin you since the moment he laid eyes on you.

And maybe he has.

He walks you backward until your knees hit the mattress. You fall, and he’s on you in an instant — pinning you down, hand between your thighs before you can blink.

“You’re soaked,” he growls, pressing the heel of his palm where you need it most. “You do like being manhandled. Filthy little patriot.”

You moan, arching into him, trying to grind down — but he pulls back.

“Ah ah,” he smirks, licking a stripe up your neck. “You wanna come on my fingers, you ask nicely.”

You grit your teeth. “Please.”

His mouth grazes your jaw. “Say it like you mean it.”

Your pride flares. But your body burns hotter.

“Please,” you whisper, breath ragged. “Make me come. I want your hands on me. I want your cock in me. I want—”

He growls, shoving two fingers deep inside you, the stretch glorious and unforgiving. “That’s more like it.”

He ruins you with his fingers — slow at first, then brutal, curling and pumping until you’re begging, panting, clawing at his shoulders. His other hand pins your hips down when you try to move. “You come when I say you can.”

You’re close. So close.

Then he stops.

“Ben—!”

“On your knees,” he commands, voice rough. “You want your reward? Earn your fucking stars.”

You obey, trembling as you drop in front of him, your eyes locked on his belt.

“That’s my girl.”

You drop to your knees like he told you to — chest rising, thighs tight, heat burning between your legs even after he pulled his fingers out. He’s watching you like a predator. Like a god.

“Go on,” he says, voice dark with amusement. “Show me what that pretty mouth can do.”

Your fingers tremble as you reach for his belt. He doesn’t help. Just stands there, broad and looming, letting you work — like unwrapping something dangerous.

The buckle clinks. The zipper lowers. You free him from his pants, and your breath catches.

He’s big. Thick and heavy, already hard, a drop of precum glistening at the tip. You swallow, heat pooling between your legs again.

“Oh, you like what you see?” he smirks. “Don’t just stare, princess. Be a good little patriot.”

You wrap your hand around the base of his cock and lean in, tongue flicking over the tip. He growls — low and primal — and his hand fists in your hair instantly, tightening just enough to make your scalp sting.

“That’s it,” he grunts. “Open wider. Take it like you want it.”

You do. Inch by inch, your lips stretch around him, cheeks hollowing as you sink down. His hips twitch, and he moans — an honest, filthy sound.

“Fuck. That mouth—”

You bob your head slowly, then faster, saliva dripping down your chin as you stroke the base with your hand. He watches every movement, groaning when you gag just a little, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

He pulls your head back suddenly, his cock glistening with your spit.

“Bed. Now.”

You scramble up and he’s right behind you, grabbing your hips, pushing you onto your stomach. Your ass is bare before you can blink, pants dragged off roughly. You hear the rip of foil — he’s fast, practiced — and then the blunt head of his cock is pressing against your entrance.

“You ready, baby?” he growls against your ear, one big hand gripping the back of your neck. “Because I’m not taking it easy on you.”

You push your hips back. “Do it.”

And he does.

One brutal thrust, and he’s buried to the hilt, stealing the breath from your lungs. The stretch is overwhelming — perfect — and he doesn’t give you time to adjust.

He sets a punishing pace, hips slamming into you with the force of a freight train. You scream into the mattress, but he just groans, fingers bruising into your skin.

“This what you wanted?” he pants. “Getting wrecked by a fucking legend?”

“Yes—!”

He pounds into you harder, sweat dripping down his chest as he leans over you, hand sliding around your throat.

“Heaven has nothing against being wrapped up in your body,” he growls. “Goddamn, you feel like sin. I could die right here.”

You tighten around him at those words, nearly sobbing when his thumb brushes your clit.

“You gonna come?” he whispers, biting your ear. “Soak my cock like a good girl?”

You nod frantically. “Please — I’m so close —”

“Then come.”

And you do — violently, helplessly — clenching around him as pleasure shatters through your body like a white-hot explosion. You feel him follow you seconds later, growling your name like a war cry as he empties himself into the condom, hips twitching.

Silence falls. Heavy breathing. Slick skin. You collapse into the sheets, shaking.

He pulls out carefully, discards the condom, and flops down beside you, dragging you into his arms.

“It’s 3AM,” he mutters against your neck, voice hoarse. “And all I want is you.”

You smile, dazed and spent.

“I’ve got a comfortable bed,” he adds, pulling the blanket over both of you. “And I’m not letting you leave it.”

--

You're still panting, boneless and dazed against the mattress, skin damp with sweat. But his hand doesn’t leave your waist.

Not even for a second.

“You think we’re done?” he rasps near your ear, voice thick with heat. “Sweetheart, I’ve barely started.”

Before you can respond, he flips you onto your back with one arm like you weigh nothing. His eyes roam your naked body, dark and wild and hungry.

“Look at you,” he growls. “Fucked out, shaking… and you still want more.”

You nod, breathless.

His palm closes around your throat, not tight — not yet — just enough to make you feel the weight of it.

“You gonna be my good little slut again?”

Your thighs twitch. “Yes—please.”

That’s all he needs.

He grabs your wrists, pins them above your head with one hand, the other trailing down your stomach. His fingers swipe through your soaked folds — and he smirks.

“Already this wet again? Damn, baby. You were made for this.”

Without warning, he pushes two fingers inside you, curling them fast and rough, no teasing this time. You cry out, arching against the mattress.

“Keep those legs open,” he warns. “If you close them, I tie them up. Your call.”

You obey. Barely.

He works your cunt hard, fingers pounding into you while he leans in, tongue flicking over one nipple. You’re moaning now — loud, desperate, writhing under him — and he drinks it in like a man starving.

“You want my cock again?” he growls, licking his way up to your throat. “Want me to ruin you?”

“Yes—God, yes—”

He sits back on his heels and fists his cock again — thick, hard, ready to split you open all over. “Get on your knees. Face down, ass up.”

You scramble to obey, and the next thing you feel is the crack of his palm on your ass.

“Good girl,” he purrs, rubbing the sting. “You follow orders real well. You should’ve worn that mouth out on the battlefield too.”

You barely gasp before he drives into you again — harder this time — no gentleness, no slow build. He takes you like he owns your body, and fuck, maybe he does.

The headboard slams the wall. The sounds of skin and breath and filthy moans fill the air.

“You’re mine,” he pants, gripping your hair and yanking your head back. “Say it.”

“I’m yours,” you cry out, nails digging into the sheets.

His hand slides up to your throat again, squeezing now — tight enough to make your vision blur, just shy of pain.

“You gonna come with my hand around your neck, baby?” he hisses. “Come choking on how good I fuck you?”

You nod frantically — dizzy, desperate, so fucking close — and when his hand slips between your legs to rub your clit again, you lose it.

Your orgasm rips through you like lightning, blinding and brutal. You clench around him, pulsing and crying out as he fucks you through it.

He groans, deep and primal, and follows you over the edge — spilling into the condom with a strangled growl, hips still jerking as he buries himself deep one last time.

For a moment, neither of you speak. Just sweat, breath, and the sound of your racing hearts.

Then he collapses beside you and yanks you back into his arms.

“That’s it,” he murmurs. “That’s my girl.”

He kisses your temple, chest still heaving.

“Round three,” he adds, voice wicked and low, “is in ten minutes. Drink some water.”

--

You’re still shaking, wrecked and used, cradled in the heat of his chest. But Ben doesn’t sleep — not yet.

“Tired already?” he murmurs, knuckles brushing your jaw. “No, no. You’ve got more to give me, sweetheart. You’re not broken yet.”

His fingers wrap around your throat again — not tight, but commanding.

“Time to see how many times I can make you cry for it.”

He moves fast — suddenly pinning you flat on the bed, both wrists caught in one of his massive hands above your head. You barely gasp before he drags you down the mattress, spreading your thighs and locking his hips between them.

You’re sore. Overworked. Sensitive.

And dripping.

“Fuck, look at that mess,” he growls, spreading your folds open with two fingers. “You made such a pretty mess on my cock. But I think you can do better.”

He slides down and licks you — slow and filthy, tongue lapping through your folds like he’s starved. You arch, writhing, too sensitive already. He doesn’t care. His beard scrapes your thighs and his hands keep you pinned as he devours your cunt, moaning low in his throat like he’s enjoying your overstimulation.

You start crying — real tears this time — not from pain, but the unbearable, dizzying pleasure of it.

He pulls back just enough to murmur:

“That’s it, baby. Give me the tears. Let ‘em fall. Let everyone hear how good I fuck you.”

He slaps your inner thigh, then leans in again — rougher this time — alternating between flicking your clit and sucking it into his mouth, fingers pushing deep inside you again.

You come again — hips bucking, throat raw from the scream — and your body tries to curl away, too spent to keep taking it.

He doesn’t let you.

“One more,” he demands, crawling up your body. “You can give me one more.”

He lines himself up again, and you whimper, nails scratching at his forearm.

“Too much—”

“I know, sweetheart,” he murmurs, kissing your cheek. “That’s the point.”

Then he slams into you — merciless, brutal — fucking you harder than before, your slick letting him glide in deep and fast. Your body’s past thought now. You’re all nerve endings and cries, eyes rolling back as he ruins you for anything else.

He wraps a hand around your throat and spits into your open mouth.

“Swallow,” he growls. “Be a good girl.”

You do — without thinking — and he groans like it’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen.

He doesn’t stop.

He takes you until your whole body’s shaking, tears wetting your cheeks, your throat raw from moaning. He slaps your ass, your tits, grips your jaw and makes you look at him as he fucks you through another screaming orgasm.

And when he comes this time — snarling your name, hips stuttering — he kisses you like he’s claiming every piece of you.

You don’t remember collapsing. You just wake up to his strong arms pulling you close, a warm towel between your thighs, water bottle pressed to your lips.

“Shhh. You did so good, baby. So fuckin’ good,” he murmurs, voice softer now. “Breathe. I’ve got you.”

He wipes your tears with callused fingers and kisses your forehead, even as your body trembles.

“That’s my girl,” he adds. “Earned every fuckin’ star tonight.”

--

\\PLEASE REBLOG!//

[tidbit-fanfic]

it may take me a month to put out a chapter but at least im not using ai to write it.

it may take me a month to put out a chapter but at least im not using ai to write it.

it may take me a month to put out a chapter but at least im not using ai to write it.

it may take me a month to put out a chapter but at least im not using ai to write it.

it may take me a month to put out a chapter but at least im not using ai to write it.

IT MAY TAKE ME A MONTH TO PUT OUT A CHAPTER BUT AT LEAST IM NOT USING AI TO WRITE IT

[tidbit-fanfic]

Come What May (Dean X Sparking Diamond! Reader)

A/N: Ahh yes, my submission for @impala-dreamer's Through His Eyes writing challenge. It's short...I may expand on it later, but this is just my major pining moment for this man. Seriously though? This was a challenge, but definitely got me out of my writing slump. Anways...ENJOY!

TW: none? Heavy pining, sexwork?, swearing.

He was gonna enjoy killing that fucking fairy. It was the only thought ringing through his mind as he stood toward the back of the building, watching the dancers waltz around the room. He knew he must’ve stuck out like a sore-thumb; men of this era didn’t wear leather or jeans, yet there he stood in all his modern-esque style. He needed to focus on finding that damn fairy, in all her greenness, and get back to his time period, not whenever this was. 

Men brushed past him, their noses upturned when they spotted him, the dancers weaving between them, snatching money from their pockets with each wink, muttered words, or simple drag of their fingers. Dean's existing goal prevented temptation, and yet, when the music slowed, red lights dimmed, his attention shifted. 

Spotlights landed on a single individual lowering from the rafters, sequins and crystals reflecting every little movement. She perched elegantly on a swing, legs crossed daintily, preventing her from revealing too much to the crowd. The dim lighting caressed her body like a covert lover, every scintillating movement emphasized by the shimmer of the sequins that adorned her curves. Her hands teased at her skin, kissing against the softness of her skin, and for a moment, he could imagine his own hands in place of hers.

She moved with a grace, with a sense of pride, nothing directly sexual and yet, he felt the heat creeping up his collar. Hips moving and swaying, dancing themselves into a stupor, as if they could separate themselves from her. A hypnotizing image, the music answering to every sway, every caress of her body. A silvery sheen of moisture settled in the hallow of her throat, reflecting the light as she careened her head backwards, exposing the lushness of the delicate skin resting there, and damn if Dean didn’t feel the urge to sink his teeth into that throat, to claim and mark. The way she held herself, it was if she knew that no man could touch her, no man could satisfy her, strutting about as if she had them all wrapped around her finger, and from appearances, she did. 

He felt dirty, wrong even. This woman, you, weren’t directly doing anything sexual, and yet, here he stood, jeans ineffably tighter. And just when he thought it couldn’t get any worse? She locked eyes with him, and then and there, he knew, come what may, he was yours. 

[tidbit-fanfic]

My goal over the summer is to write more. Because I’ve had time to do it, but my lazy ass didn’t. So asks are closed for now while I catch up on WIPs as well as working on some new stuff. (Don’t worry, Come What May will be out here real quick.)

[tidbit-fanfic]

Currently working on my submission for a Dean POV writing challenge...but I also found this WIP that will probably never see the light of day. 18+ under the cut.

Her hands engulfed my breast, her fingers tracing my nipples from above my shirt. “Mmm, I love these tits, maybe I should tell Jensen to fuck my baby into you. Watch these perfect tits fill up with milk to feed another life.”

She pinched at my nipples as I arched against her, letting out a whimper. “Yeah? You’d like that? You’d like carrying my child, caring for it?” Daneel’s voice purred. 

“Yes, yes!” Her hands slipped underneath my shirt, fondling my breasts, now with no fabric between them. A rich moan sounded from my chest as she teased the stiff buds. My legs spread out in front of us, landing on the outside of hers as  I ground into the air, my core leaky and aching. 

“Aww, baby girl is so desperate for mommy to fill her up? So, so needy.” My head flew back to rest on her shoulder, he lips attacking my neck. 

“Please.”

“Please what? Use your words.”

“Please mommy, fill me up. Fuck your baby into me. Please.”

She hummed, one of her hands sliding down my body to play with the waistband of my shorts. “I don’t think you want it enough baby.” I choked on a whine, wiggling my hips in an attempt to get closer to her hand. She pulled back, setting her hands on either side of her. 

“Please, pretty please. Make me a mommy. Please mommy?”

A deep voice rang from the doorway. “C’mon Daneel, don’t let our girl suffer.”

Jensen made his way to the bed, taking in my state, his eyes a dark shade of green. Daneel leaned into my ear, whispering into it. “You hear that baby? Sounds like daddy wants a show, doesn’t it? We don’t want to keep him waiting now, do we?”

I shake my head, lifting my arms as she pulls my shirt off, my shorts following leaving me only in a pair of panties....

I have no clue where all this came from. Just so you all know. ALSO no disrespect to the Ackles whatsoever, this was purely a work of fiction written on a random date at a random time.

[tidbit-fanfic]

three bad bitches at the same damn time… (HELP)

pray for my addiction to ancient super soldiers.

[tidbit-fanfic]

mwahahaha. (these are my faves.)

I love love love your account, and I figured since you and your fan base all love jensen ackles this would be the perfect place to ask!!

Essentially, im getting a new tote bag for college and I came across this customisable "i ❤️ my boyfriend" and in the heart you can add your own photo. Naturally I was like omg I can put Jensen in there, but how the hell do i pick one picture!?!?

Pls lmk what your favourite pic of jensen is or favourites because I really don't know which one to choose!

omg i love this hold on i have SOOOO MANY

hope you dont mind that i just sent 1/4 of my jensen camera roll as options hehehe I HAVE MORE SOMEWHERE. BUT HERE IS SOME OPTIONS 🩷‼️ & also if u guys have ur own favs pls reblog with them ‼️‼️

[tidbit-fanfic]

i see you.

I want more.

more of my faves being chubby chasers.

more of my faves tossing chubby! y/n around because my faves don’t like that y/n is insecure about their weight.

please.

[tidbit-fanfic]

I love Dean so much right? But I love Beau more. I can’t explain it. Daddy issues go brrr…

[tidbit-fanfic]

i want my tiddies played with so bad right now. So here we go:

all of Jensen’s characters (including the man himself): are tittie guys. you can’t tell me they wouldn’t just sit there, looking at em, feeling em, sucking em, the whole nine yards. probably at least half of them have an obsession with your nipples.

Dean’s a fucking menace about it too. You even mention getting them pierced and he’s either a) learning how to do it, or b) forking over the cash and insisting he comes with. He’s gonna hate the hands off time, but I don’t think he’ll complain if you just let him start at em.

Oh god. Russell and Soldier Boy are ten times worse. Nine times out of ten you’re gonna find them buried in your tits, not a care in the world. Their screensavers are definitely one of those pics (that you made them take) of them holding your tits, not a shirt or bra in sight. And when you let them fuck them? I’m praying for you, because damn are they going to be pushing for that constantly.

Speaking of Soldier Boy…he’s snorting off of them like crazy. Might even just lay face down in them, borderline suffocating himself before he comes back for air. Absolutely insane for your nipples to. If his lips aren’t wrapped around a cigarette or a joint, they’re sucking on you like crazy. Get the balm out bestie, you’re gonna need it. And don’t you dare expect to walk away without hickeys and bite marks.

Oh Beau, sweet sweet Beau. He’s blown an entire paycheck on lingerie for your top half, and swears he’d do it again in a heartbeat. He’s so tender with them, longing stares, gentle touches. And when they’re covered in lace? He’s a goner. He’ll spend hours playing with them, not even caring about the raging hard on he’s sporting. And when you get tender near your period? He’s rubbing them, cooing up at you, his pretty girls. You wear something with cleavage and he’s fighting the urge to just pull it down, to kiss on his two girls. And yes, he refers to them as the ‘other’ women in your guys’s relationship.

What’s Tom doing here? Good question. Probably the same thing Alec and Jake are doing. Face buried in them, nursing on your pretty titties for comfort. It’s so bad, they need it, can’t you see? They’ll be whining and begging you to just let them suck on em. They’ll be so good, they promise.

And then there’s Boaz. I swear he’s been begging you for weeks now to get them pierced. Probably burned all your bras at some point, and no, he doesn’t give a fuck that they were expensive. He wants to see your nipples peaking out through his shirts that you steal. And yes, he’s gonna sneak up behind you and play with them through the fabric at any chance you give him.

JESUS.