#how much more obviously bad things can get than the pure desperation to remove the person for merely the failure to control them?

[katyspersonal]

#/vent #personal #internets #like you can see the attempts to not vent and focus on the positive availed me nothing #this is just really annoying how people are outright not seeing the hypocricy of the whole thing #i perpetually feel like i've finished a quest people normally take years on early and now i just... wait here. all alone. #for other people to catch up with seeing the Whole Thing. #unfortunately you only really GET this when either you face this attitude or someone you know does #there is just an illusion that if you sit quietly and nod along the witch-hunters will not touch you #but honestly the only way to really be safe is to become just like them #because again autonomy is a reason to lose interest in being your friend at least and reason to shun you at most #ugh... i really really REALLY do not know what to search for to make me focus on GOOD things #it boils down to bugging my friends to send me good drawings or funny memes to reblog #or to urgently shutting internet down because over two vents per day is kind of an overkill #i just do not understand why the hypocricy of the witch hunters is not painfully obvious #how much more obviously bad things can get than the pure desperation to remove the person for merely the failure to control them? #the silver lining i guess is that trying so hard means i really get on their nerves. #i am just frustrated #how many years should pass until people come to me and say 'hey you was right and btw they bullied me too xD' #like they kept coming to Mico after having previously tossed him away too #they always come back but it is always too late and always at the expense of them facing the witch hunt too! #what it takes a mf to learn from mistakes of others and not their own? #i will just... stay here. and wait. until people realise the corruption of the Whole Thing. #sometimes i wish i myself had more time to be naive

[elfwoodfae]

“Slow” Harrison Eo Wells x reader

Author’s note: This is pure smut no plot or anything, thank you so much to @harrisonwellsisdaddy for giving this wings and to everyone in discord who feeds the thirst trap.

WARNING: Smut. Please don’t read if under 18.

Gif credits to the owner, I found this one on google.

Rain poured from the sky as he carried you, speeding you to a safe place. It had gone horribly wrong. The plan was for you to leave before he had let the meta-human out of the cell, but of course you had come back and had ended up caught up in the mix. Luckily it was a minor injury, a sprained wrist from being thrown against a wall, but even if you were some sort of an inconvenience, it was on him that you had gotten hurt.

You were still jittery and nervous around him, ever since finding out who he really was. Obviously he had threatened you to shut your mouth up but even as he hated to admit it the look of terror and the tears in your eyes that day had touched him. Before you had found out about him, you had gone on a date, the two of you. He didn’t want to, he tried to shrug you off but you were so persistent and so sweet to him that he had ended up agreeing, there had been sexual tension between both of you, with you always admiring who Harrison Wells was and him being alone for so long and trying to keep you on check had made him grow fond of you. Of course all of that went to hell when you discovered him.

Once he made it through the door with you in his arms he laid you in his sofa, you were soaking wet and he was trying to check your injury. After wrapping your wrist up you had tried to leave, but he wasn’t having it, you were to stay put until that meta-human was caught again.

“Is there anything you need?” He asked as he observed you.

“Since you are planning to keep me here, can I please have a shower? I am cold and uncomfortable.” You told him, avoiding his gaze as you had done since finding out.

Guiding you to the very luxurious bathroom, he handed you a black sweater of his to wear while your clothes dried. His bathroom was huge, a glass panel shower and very extravagant mirror on the walls. He probably loved looking at himself.

After getting cleaned up and drying yourself you grabbed the sweater. It was long enough to cover your ass and fall right before your knees, and loose enough to be comfortable. Opening the door he was right in front of it, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest.

He took you in, the way his clothes fitted you, your bare legs and the way your checks warmed up. Guiding you back to the sofa he reapplied the bandage to your arm, he sat in the end of the sofa, while you laid across it, the fireplace was lighted up to warm you up. Your feet grazed his lap and by instinct you tried to retract them away from him but he was faster and grabbed them, moving them over his lap while looking at the fire, his expression unreadable.

Out of boredom his fingers started caressing your leg, rubbing up and down, never going farther away than your knee. Turning on your back so you could look at him you spoke for the first time in a while without him having to prompt you.

“I wish I hadn’t found out, I am sure we could have been great together, I wanted it to work so bad.”

“I wish you hadn’t either. I didn’t want you, I didn’t want to go out with you, I knew it would only complicate things. But you were so pushy, so sweet and I couldn’t refuse you.” He said still looking at the fire.

“You weren’t supposed to find out like this. Ever since that date we had you became stuck in my mind, I would observe you, wondering how I could have allowed you to screw up my plans so easily.” He finished.

“I always wondered what it would have felt like to kiss you.” In a moment of bravery you admitted. “I wondered how soft your hair was, or how you smelled, but none of that matters now.” You finish looking away to the fire.

Why did you had to tell him that, it was stupid to admit now, suddenly shame came over you and you wished you could just crawl under a bed and hide. Even if he was evil and twisted you still liked him, he still made you nervous and jittery.

His eyes trailed to your form, taking in the way your head was looking to the side, you jawline defined with the light of the fire and your neck exposed as your chest fell and rose softly. He moved your legs out of the way, and as if by instinct, as if a force beyond himself was moving him by command he started to crawl over you. Your head snapped in his direction as your knee lifted up to his abdomen to stop him out of nerves, forgetting that there was no underwear under your shirt. His eyes flickered for half a second down as a smirk played on his lips. Quickly you pushed the sweater down again in case anything had been revealed.

“What are you doing?” You questioned him warily.

“What does it seem like I’m doing?” He replied, moving his hands up your knee to grab it and move it to the side.

His arms came at either side of your head, the space cramped in the sofa. He wasn’t thinking straight and neither were you, but as you looked into his eyes and yours flickered to his lips only one thought crossed your mind.

He moved his lips to yours, softly, tasting you and seeing if you would push him away. Breaking the kiss he moved back, only for your hand to shoot up to his hair and bring him back down again. Kissing him deeply this time, he ran his tongue flat against your lips, asking you to open your mouth. He tasted all of you, exploring you, while his hand rested on your thighs. His lips moved to your jawline, kissing and moving down your neck, leaving love marks and sucking on the skin, making you moan while he bit into it, rubbing his tongue over it after.

He was making you a moaning mess under him, your skin was warm and the way it tasted was driving him insane. He wanted to touch more of you, to feel you. But the moment his hands moved up your thighs his body couldn’t contain the excitement anymore, making him vibrate all of him like the first time he had become a speedster, every cell in his body too excited to be contained, his eyes illuminated red for a second at the same time thunder roared through the sky, making you open your eyes and push your hand against his chest, your heart beating out of your chest.

He was moving too fast, your mind had been able to trick you into thinking that this was the man you knew but the moment he vibrated and his eyes illuminated you were aware who he really was, what he represented and what he could do.

“I’m sorry I just,” you didn’t even know why you were apologizing, but you didn’t want to push him away. You just needed him to go slower.

“Can you,” you swallowed avoiding his eyes. “Can you just take it slower?” You finished while avoiding his eyes.

“Are you sure?” He was making sure you were okay with this, he could be a lot of things but he would never force you into something you didn’t want.

“Yes I am, I am just nervous, I honestly never thought this situation would happen.” You continued and to prove him you were serious you slowly moved his head back down to kiss him.

The hand on your thigh remained still while his lips kissed you softly, moving slowly down your neck again, kissing and nipping at the skin. His other hand tangled in your hair while his forearm held him up over you. He ran his tongue up your neck to your ear, biting the earlobe softly, making you squirm under him and moan at the feeling. He took his time working you to relax, kissing your lips, your neck, making you forget what plagued your mind.

Your hands moved over his abdomen to the hem of his shirt, running them under you could feel his skin, the muscles of his abdomen tensing up at the effort of holding him up. You grabbed on the hem of it and moved it up his body, signaling for him to take it off. He lifted himself momentarily off of you and removed it, moving back down to kiss you, when his mouth left yours and he moved to your neck you opened your eyes to admire his shoulder and his back, from this angle you could see the curve of his ass through his pants.

Your hands ran down his back, feeling his skins, his muscles, while the hand on your thigh started to move up, slowly as he worked harder on your neck. His fingers felt the softness of your skin, moving higher until they reached your hip. Once his fingers grazed over your hip bone, the realization that you didn’t have any underwear on made his cock twitch in his pants as a growl escaped him against your skin. His hand moved up the side of your stomach, until it reached your breast, squeezing it softly and grinding his hips into you out of pure need to feel you, to get some relief. He was making you a mess but he was a mess himself, desperate for some friction.

His hand moved back down, grabbing the hem of the sweater and lifting it over your body, exposing you completely to him. He threw the piece of clothe somewhere behind you and moving back down to kiss you, his mouth running lower to your breast, kissing the soft skin of one while his hand caressed the other, you were so soft, so delicious. He was going to explode in his pants if he didn’t go inside of you soon.

Your hands found the button of his pants, opening them slowly. His hand helped yours to remove his pants, getting his briefs out of the way too letting his cock free. He kissed you while his hand moved to your thigh, running up to your ass, squeezing it roughly and opening your leg to fit himself in between, he was too desperate to wait much longer, his hand moving down to feel you, the moment his fingers grazed your entrance and felt how wet you were he almost came.

Moving his cock to your entrance he moved it through your folds, letting you soak his head before he positioned it against your entrance, pushing slowly to let you adjust since he hadn’t stretched you beforehand with his fingers. When he was halfway inside he broke the kiss, growling into your mouth at the way you squeezed him, making his whole self vibrate of pure pleasure.

Your hands grabbed onto his shoulders, scratching down his back when he was fully inside of you, scratching him down while you took a moment to adjust to his size. He started moving slowly, going almost all the way out before thrusting back in again, making you moan and move your head back, he felt so good and full. His hand found your leg and he hooked it over his hip, giving him a better angle to enter you.

His hand rested on your waist, holding you in place while you squirmed under him, his half lidded eyes taking in your face as you moaned for him, it was taking all of him not to snap his hips against yours at full speed and fuck you into oblivion, he shouldn’t want to come this fast into it but you were maddening him. He moved to your neck, kissing you and marking your skin, making you get closer, while he speeded up his movement, holding your leg higher up his hip and squeezing it harshly. His body started to vibrate, not being able to contain the excitement of his fast approaching orgasm and every time his hips connected to yours the vibrations would go straight to your clit, making you arch your back into him. You were close, so close, feeling the knot tightening up in your stomach.

He felt himself about to come, moving deeper as his hip connected to yours, feeling you tighten around him as your orgasm hit you, making him feel impossibly tight. His hand moved to your chin, keeping you in place as he watched you come, your eyes half lidded staring into his red glowing eyes as he tried to keep his face from breaking down while he came, failing miserably as he came deep inside of you, closing his eyes and opening his mouth while throwing his head back.

Once out of your high he switched you, letting you lay on top of him while he played with your back, both of you looking at the fire while you grew sleepy, soon falling asleep on his chest.

#harrison eo wells x reader #harrison eo wells fanfic #harrison wells x reader #eowells fanfic #harribard fanfic #eobard thawne fanfic #eowells smut #harrison wells smut #reverse flash #eobard thawne x reader fanfic #eobard thawne smut #eowells x reader #harrison wells x y/n

[bxtchforstyles]

The greatest headache ever

Harry Styles x Meredith Cooper

(part of the hey doctor series)

When Harry starts getting headaches bad enough to where he has to go to the emergency room, Meredith is there to help. This is the story of how they met.

Warning: mentions of hospitals, slight mentions of needles, just medical things.

Word count: 2.1k

gif not mine.

Whenever Meredith worked overtime at the hospital, those always seemed to be the same days that Harry didn’t have to go to the studio, or the days that Harry had something planned for the two of them.

Meredith was the definition of a workaholic, making it very difficult for her to often go home on time after her shift. Harry tried to get her to take more breaks as the years of dating her went on, but she never let up.

He would say, “baby, I’m only looking out for your health.”

To which she would respond with, “actually, I’m looking out for my patients health.”

She was at the hospital doing rounds, or maybe at the office seeing patients. She was always working.

So, maybe it was unbearable for Harry to never get to see his girlfriend, but when he really thinks about it, her working overtime at the hospital was the reason he met her.

FLASHBACK:

Grueling headaches were an often occurrence for Harry, so it never really occurred that he would end up in the emergency room from utter exhaustion.

“Good evening, Mr…” She looks down to find out what Harry’s name is on his chart, “Styles, correct?”

He nods, furrowing his eyebrows and wincing as another sharp pain echoed through his head.

“Okay, well I’m doctor Cooper. It says here that you’ve been having ongoing headaches for a while, so what made you want to come in?”

“Um…” He trailed off, scratching the back of his head, “I was at the studio, and I had been standing for a while and I sorta fainted.”

“Hm,” Meredith looked down, expecting any other injuries, “so, I’m guessing you cut your wrist on the way down?” There was a white bandage with blood showing through it wrapped tightly around his wrist.

“Yup.” He laughed as she began to unwrap the bandage, “Not to sound rude or anything, but you look a little young to be a doctor.”

“Unless you are suggesting that I am incapable because of my age, which I don’t think you are, then I take you saying I look young as a compliment.”

“Of course I meant it as a compliment.” Harry shakes his head with a small chuckle, making Meredith smile.

“Ouch.” She winced along with Harry once the bandage was all the way off of his wrist before she set it on the medical tray next to her. “Yeah, you’re definitely going to need stitches.”

Harry’s jaw dropped, “Are you being serious?”

“Do you really think I would joke about something like that? C’mon, I’m not that cruel.”

She was being honest, and Harry liked that about her. She wasn’t trying too hard to fit the entire doctor role that most of the arrogant doctors did.

She patted his shoulder as she stood up from the rolling stood she was sitting in, “I’m going to go grab a suture kit, I’ll be right back to fix you up.”

“I see you’re taking a liking to one of your patients over there.” Meredith jumped as she stood in the supply closet, turning to find Maggie, one of her friends (and colleagues) behind her.

“What?” She asked as she reached for the suture kit she had been looking for.

“Ya know,” Maggie snatched the kit for Mer’s grasp, “nurses are perfectly capable of a couple stitches, that’s their job after all.”

She rolled her eyes, grabbing the plastic container with all the tools necessary inside of it back, “I had some free time, he’s a pretty interesting guy, actually.”

“Guy? That’s it?” Meredith sees her friend's jaw drop, “Do you not know who that man is?”

Her eyebrows furrowed in response, “What do you mean? He’s a patient...”

“You’re about to suture the wrist of like the most famous popstar ever, Meredith!”

She whipped her head back around, “What? Who? Wait, what’s his name?’

Another one of the girls who works with the two of them walked up to where they were standing in the hall, appearing to have been eavesdropping. “Does she seriously not know who Harry fucking Styles is?”

The name definitely rang a bell, and Meredith had definitely heard it before, but she just could remember exactly where.

“What is he? A singer?” She looked towards Maggie, making her groan.

“Mer! You literally listen to his music!” Maggie smacked her friend in the back of the head, making her hiss from the sudden contact, “You know that one song that you were obsessed with over the summer, golden?”

Meredith nodded before her jaw dropped, “Oh my gosh! He wrote that song?”

Maggie copied her previous motion, nodding before turning her friend back towards where Harry sat, pushing her forwards. “Go get ‘em tiger!”

When Meredith walked back up to Harry, she stumbled a bit before setting all her supplies on the small, metal table that sat next to his bed. “Sorry that took so long, you are apparently the talk of the town all over the hospital.”

“Ah,” Harry only tucked his lips into his mouth, “really thought I was off the hook when you pretended to not know who I was, ya really had me sold.”

“Um…” the girl trailed off awkwardly, “I didn’t know who you were.”

"Oh, Im sorry, I shouldn't have assumed that you knew who I was.” He spoke, the shock in his voice was still quite apparent though. "I guess after a while of being recognized everywhere I go, I learned to act as if everyone knows who I am, and have the worst intentions. It's the best way for me to assure that my integrity is saved.”

Meredith nods, "I know I'm not famous or anything, but I somehow understand that.”

Harry's wrist was still obviously hurting, she could tell by the way he flinched every time she came close to touching.

"Okay, you may feel a small pinch when I insert the numbing agent, but after that, the stitches should be smooth sailing.” Meredith grabs his wrist, just above his injury, she had the syringe filled with lidocaine in her other hand, "ready?”

Harry nodded before she quickly inserted the syringe, beginning to numb the area. For a moment, it looked as if all of the color had completely drained from his face, his eyes falling closed.

"You doing alright?” Meredith light-heartedly asked, trying to ease the tension as she finished numbing Harry's wrist.

He looked quite dazed, as if he was in a trance, "I think I'm alright.” He sighed, leaning back in the chair, still having that void look in his eye.

Meredith stood up again, "Why don't I go get you a cool washcloth to put on your forehead while we wait for the numbing to fully kick in, you look a bit pale."

Harry smiled, "That would be great, thank you.”

When Meredith returned from the sink outside the procedure room, Harry was still slumped back in the large chair, his forehead glistening with sweat.

"Here ya go.” She smiled, placing the washcloth soaked with cold water on his forehead. He was surprised by the cool temperature at first, but he sighed in relief moments later.

"Okay, so I'm going to get started on the stitches now, if you're all settled.”

"Yeah, I'm okay, go ahead.” He held his injured wrist out to her.

It only took around thirty minutes for Meredith to finish the stitches, and once she was done she was already suggesting other treatments for Harry's headaches in question.

"I honestly think that you are getting these headaches from just pure exhaustion, the symptoms you are describing sound much like the type of migraines I had in med school, and with such a high stress level job, it would make sense why you wouldn't be getting enough sleep, correct?”

Harry bows his head, "It is true that I could probably use a little more sleep.”

Meredith begins to jot something down on the chart, "and some more water, since you also seem to be showing signs of moderate dehydration.”

"Whatever you say, doc.”

It was beginning to get harder and harder for Meredith to keep her level of professionalism, because all she could think to herself was is this super hot, famous, heartthrob flirting with me right now?

It was safe to say that she was beginning to understand why so many girls, including her own colleagues, found this man so enticing.

"Okay!" She quickly broke herself out of her daydream, "I think that's all I can really tell you, sleep more and drink some more water. But, if you start doing those things and you are still getting headaches, please don't hesitate to come back.”

"And as for the stitches?” He questioned, making her furrow her eyebrows.

¨What do you mean?” She countered immediately feeling stupid when he responded.

"I mean, won't I have to come back to get them removed?"

"Oh! Yes, I would say fourteen days." Meredith was mentally face palming at this point as her embarrassment took over.

She wasn’t even a huge fan of his, hell, she didn’t even know who he was a hour ago, so the reason she was stuttering like a blubbering idiot was beyond her.

“Can I just come back here?”

“Yup, I’ll be here.” She says with a bigger smile than she intended as she handed Harry the medical forms for him to fill out.

“Thank you so much.” He said gratefully as she said her goodbyes before walking out of the room and into the hall, where Maggie, and many other nurses stood, seemingly waiting.

An array of questions began to be shouted from many different people, some including:

‘How was he?’

‘Did you get his number?’

‘Is he coming back?’

Meredith was appalled by the amount of shouting going on, when everyone was well aware that the man they were desperate to know about, was only behind the very thin, wooden door.

“Are you guys fucking insane? Patient confidentiality!” She defended, adjusting her white coat before beginning to make her way back towards the nurses station at the end of the hall.

******

Meredith wasn’t expecting to ever see Harry again after he came in to get his stitches removed, which was a long, drawn out process because of Harry’s attempt to stall the doctor.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to see him again either, she would have been perfectly happy to. He was charming, and didn’t seem too arrogant, which was something she completely adored about him.

But it wasn’t until about three weeks after he had gotten his stitches removed that she felt someone approaching her on the cereal island that she stood in Whole Foods.

“Meredith?” She turned around, being met with a surprised look at Harry. “Sorry, can I call you that?”

She laughed at that, “I mean I wasn’t expecting you to call me doctor when I’m not even your doctor anymore. Can I call you Harry?” She countered his question.

He let out a sigh of relief, remembering how down to earth Meredith really was for being someone with such a high profession. “Well, I’m not your patient anymore, now am I?”

She looked back at the shelves, picking up her choses box of cereal, throwing it into the basket that was hanging around her wrist.

“I guess you do know who I am, don’t you?”

“I do now.” She responded, not really knowing what else to say.

Harry on the other hand, was debating whether or not it would be inappropriate to attempt to make a move on his doctor. Was she even technically his doctor anymore? He didn’t know.

He was always very straight forwards through, which was something he prided himself in. “Would it be weird if I were to ask you out on a date?”

Meredith liked the game that they were continuing to play, the one where he would ask her a question, and she would counter back with almost the exact same one. “Would it be weird if I were to say yes?”

“I guess that answers both of our questions.”

It was safe to say both of them left the grocery store blushing and smiling like idiots.

#harry styles #harry styles blog #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles x ofc #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #solo harry #harry styles masterlist #hey doctor series

[bitch-for-a-rainbow]

So there's a blanddcheadcanons post that says that "Kara is the mortal avatar of Rao" and I really don't like it, especially in the context of SG 3x04 (The Faithful). At best, as was pointed out to me by a friend with whom I discussed this post, the House of El is likely blessed and somewhat sponsored by Rao, which probably doesn't do much but produce Krypton's greatest heroes, given what the word "El" **means** in Kryptonian. I'm interested in your thoughts on this (pls post your answer).

    I reject the headcannon solely because if it were true it would mean Coville was right and I fucking hate that bitch.

     In all seriousness, though, this is an idea I've seen a lot and I'm not a huge fan of. I don't know much about Raoism beyond what appears in the show and that which can be inferred off of the show. One thing I would point out though is that El in Kryptonian (while obviously being intended to mean God by the original comic writers) can mean Sun or Stars, and since the Kryptonians in the show are, as far as I can tell, monotheistic, and worshipped only one particular star, the El family is not necessarily named God. It would, however, signify their enormous prestige on Krypton and contribute to the famous El pride (or rather, arrogance). I’m not sure it would necessarily have to mean anything more than that-- that the Els are a respected house who have produced a variety of successful politicians, civil servants, and scientists. And (this time reaching a little bit) that they are perhaps so old and respected that their house name was once a title. 

      There is a certain allure to the theory, for sure. Kara is a paragon character. She always, always does what she thinks is right, regardless of the cost, personal or global, and regardless of what other people might think of it. She has a very direct moral compass, and there are only a handful of times when she doesn’t follow it, all of which involve saving Lena. Ship who you want, but it is notable that Kara routinely prioritzes Lena’s life over that of others given the rarity of that happening otherwise. She never even considered breaking Rick Thompson’s father out of prison when he kidnapped Alex, and all he’d committed was bank robbery. Kara has lines she does not cross (though murder is clearly not one of them). She is a character that has seen some of the worst that sentient life is capable of, has seen more death and suffering than most people could imagine, and she came out of it with an all-encompassing desire to protect others. She lives to give people hope. Plus, the humor of having Kara-- the one person most offended by the idea of being an Avatar of Rao-- turn out to be an Avatar of Rao is great.

       But, I would also say that having Kara want to do good because she is the avatar of a benevolent god is reductive and not particularly true to her character. It is true that helping and protecting people is a large part of the core of who Kara is. But there is a difference between altruism and the self-destructive, bordering of suicidal desperation to save absolutely everyone that Kara practices. And to anyone who doubts the suicidal bit, I direct you to the season 1 finale where Kara literally goes on a goodbye tour because she thinks if she goes out to fight Non she’ll die. She still goes because she has hope, but that hope is that she can at least save Earth with her life. She doesn’t fight because she is certain in the ultimate victory of good and justice. She does it because she more afraid to lose another family than she is to die. Kara doesn’t become Supergirl and risk her own life because she believes in good, she does it because she can’t stand to listen to people suffer-- because she has suffered. To use Alex’s words in 1x13 “You fight everyday to keep people from struggling like you have.” Notably also in 1x13, Kara wakes up from the Black Mercy and her first words are “Who did this to me?” and then she goes after Non in what could arguably be described as a homicidal rage-- a rage that is fueled entirely for personal reasons, not the greater good of Earth (though that comes as an added benefit), which is.... not very befitting the avatar of a benevolent god. 

     A major part of season 1 is Kara dealing with grief and rage. She nearly breaks a guy's arm in episode 6 because he screamed at her for damaging his car, to hell with the children he'd almost hit with it. In season 3's Midvale flashbacks we see her first put both hands through a lunch table, then attack Jake when she suspects him for Kenny's death. She gets better at controlling it as the seasons progress, but during Crisis she very nearly melts Lex. Also not particularly godly of her. 

     Then there is the fact that so much of who Kara is is shaped by fear: fear of the government, fear of humanity, fear of abandonment, and fear of herself. In her civilian life, Kara is, for the most part, unnoticeable. She's polite, soft-spoken, doesn't wear a lot of bold colors or styles, and is often a pushover. As shown by her encounter with Red Kryptonite, Kara would not dress or speak the same way to people without the pressure of hiding her identity (though much of her dialogue is purely the loss of her "don't be an asshole" filter, some of it is stuff she had every right to say before and just didn't). I have always found that episode to be very interesting purely for the fact that Kara doesn't actually seem to be seeking harm on others so much as seeking their attention. Her argument with Alex is almost entirely about how much she hates having to hide and pretend to be less than she is. Kara drops Cat off the balcony and then catches her. She attacks the police when they point weapons at her but doesn't kill or even hurt them that badly, instead of destroying the car they're using as shelter. Red-K removed her inhibitions, made her angrier, yes, but if her goal was to actually hurt people, she could have done so-- would have done so, and with great ease. She goes to a public bar and uses super strength to smash bottles by flicking peanuts. Why do that at a crowded bar? Why not just flick potato chips at the windows in her own apartment?

      This is Kara at her absolute worst-- but does she seek out the DEO agents who shot her out of the sky? Does she go after Maxwell Lord or Non? No. She tries to make people pay attention to her. Her most shameful and hideous desire is for people to give her respect. (Admittedly, respect gained through fear, but still.). Kara's a nice person-- much, much nicer than average-- but a lot of that "nice" is just her avoiding conflict to avoid attention.

      Kara is a good person. Kara inspires people. But that is because Kara gets up every day and chooses to be good and to inspire. It's one of the reasons I enjoy Non as a villain so much-- he and Astra are Kara's narrative foils. They also remember Krypton and grieve its loss. They also were trapped in the Phantom Zone. But where Kara had the Danvers to convince her that some good people existed and would risk themselves just to help others, Non and Astra had Alura sentencing them to eternal suffering rather than helping them save their planet (through the means they thought necessary) and then landed on Earth and found it headed on the same path as the planet they'd just lost. Kara had people to help her grieve. Non and Astra were surrounded by misery. They lost hope. Kara discovered it.

     Kara is the Paragon of Hope because she has been hopeless. Because she has suffered so much, seen so much, and because she chooses to believe in a better future. She didn't have hope her first time in the Phantom Zone. She didn't even have hope for a while on earth. From what we can gather, Kara's choice to start actually believing in the future was a gradual shift that occurred sometime after Kenny's death and has lasted her ever since. For Kara, hope is learned. She chose to hope and she won't let it go, and to assign that incredible victory off to her being a God is an insult to her growth and to her character. 

   Now I personally thought “The Faithful” handled this concept very well. 3x04 is one of my favorite episodes of television in general, let alone in Supergirl. Season 3 is my second favorite season, and that says a lot for its good episodes when the bad of season 3 is so, so very bad (To say nothing of the episode to episode production value, we have the waste of Argo, Mon El’s return as obviously he’s grown he has a beard Mon El, and whatever the hell was going on with Kryptonian genetic engineering eclipse causing witches). To this day I don’t know why Kara had magic dreams. The show did nothing to explain it and I can’t imagine up a reason. 

     But “The Faithful” works because it highlights the whole paragon part of who Kara is. When you realize that every person in the room of Coville’s cult is a person she has personally saved-- that hits hard. Especially since only a fraction of the people she’s saved would ever set foot inside that building with the totally not-creepy, entirely wholesome way they deliver the invitations. (“Your daughter is special. She has been chosen. As have you.”) It works because it focuses on how the average human must view Kara, the ones who don’t see her argue with her sister over potstickers and crush her phone when she gets mad. It works because of how desperately hard Kara tries to be a human. It works because the writers know that we, the audience, do not see Kara as anything but a regular person with irregular abilities: a kind and remarkably devoted person, but not a god. 

#I didnt discuss it above. but Kara gets REALLY mad about Covilles whole deal #I really love watching her reaction to kryptonian artifacts #girl goes suspicion first and anger second #and it highlights her humanity #even as it puts her on a pedastal #Kara saved all these people but she will still tear her holy book from your hands #and scream at you for daring to quote it #Supergirl 3x04 #Supergirl 1x13 #Supergirl 1x20 #Supergirl #Kara Danvers #Supergirl meta #Kara Zor el #Raoism

[rebelwrites]

Possessive/Jealous Sex - Jax Teller

Requested by @witching-hour

A/N PURE FUCKING FILTH

Pissed off wasn’t the word right now, in fact you were fuming. All because your old man wasn’t paying you any attention. The anger was only fuelled by the alcohol running through your veins. You knew you looked fire tonight by the attention you were getting off the other sons but you didn’t care about that, all you cared about was the attention from one man, attention which you wasn’t getting.

Downing the shot you slammed the glass on the bar, if he wasn’t paying you attention then you’d give him something to give you attention you so desperately craved. You knew you were playing with fire but didn’t care. You had a need that needed satisfying and you were sure as hell going to make sure it did. And plus a little flirting never harmed anyone right.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing here all by herself?” A voice next to you said.

“Not much” you shrugged looking at the guy, you didn’t recognise him so he must have been a brother from another charter that was visiting. “Just wanting to have some fun you know”

“Well then if fun is what you are after then look no further” he smirked “I’m Ben”

“Y/N” you smiled at him taking in his features, he was no Jax but he wasn’t bad looking and obviously didn’t know who’s old lady you were.

The time passed and flirty banter was being thrown around, giggling at everything he said. Your plan was working as you felt a hole being burned into the back of your head. The power of Jax’s gaze set something inside of you alight and it would only be a matter of time before he came storming over and play time would begin.

And as if on queue he did, as soon as Ben’s hand landed on your thigh, you heard the scrap of his chair against the floor, smirking to yourself as you felt his hot hand land on your wrist, gripping you tightly.

“With me now” Jax snarled, dragging you away.

Mission accomplished, now time to have some fun. Feeling your back make contact with the wall you smirked at Jax.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He growled as his hand made its way around your throat, pinning you against the wall, creating a heat between your legs.

“Maybe if you showed me some fucking attention I would be acting like a whore” you spat knowing you were poking the fire.

“Is that what this is about” Jax laughed his blue eyes darkening “you want some fucking attention”

“Finally you caught on” you smirked.

“You want to act like a whore” he smirked “I will fucking treat you like a worthless fucking whore that is only good for one thing”

He hadn’t even done anything and you knew you were wet.

“Do you want me to treat you like a dirty little whore darlin’” he growled “use you as my little fuck toy and fuck that perfect cunt until you can’t walk”

His words made you ache for him.

“Yes daddy” you said looking up at him through your lashes.

“My dorm now” he growled, removing his hand from your neck, pushing you in the direction of his room.

You had never moved through the clubhouse so fast, barging past everyone. As soon as you were in his room Jax picked you up, throwing you on the bed, roughly pushing your dress up.

“Such a naughty girl” he growled as he unbuckled his belt “not wearing any panties, I can see how wet you are already, do you like it when daddy is rough and treats you like a whore”

“Yes” you breathed “I just need you to fuck me please”

“So fucking needy” he smirked slapping your pussy “but you need to be taught a lesson you slut”

Gulping slightly, you had awoken the beast now as he grabbed a fist full of your hair, pulling you to the end of the bed so you now had his thick cock in your face.

“Well it isn’t gonna suck itself bitch” he growled as he pushed his dick into your mouth making you gag as he pushed his full length a smirk playing on his lips as he grabbed a fist full of your hair “god you look so pretty choking on daddy’s cock”

It didn’t take long for saliva and pre-cum to be dribbling down your chin as he fucked your face, tears were streaming down your cheeks.

You got a small break when Jax pulled out of your mouth but you knew the punishment didn’t end there as he pulled you over his knee and without warning his ring cladded hands made contact with your ass cheeks, you couldn’t help it as a moan escaped your lips. The pain turning into arousal with each spank.

“Such a dirty bitch” Jax growled as he pulled your hair as his spanks got harder, you knew your ass would be so red right now but you didn’t care. “Fuck this, daddy wants, no daddy needs to fuck you, I want to see my cum dripping from that sweet cunt”

The way he man handled you made you wetter.

“Who does this pissy belong to whore?” Jax grunted as he pushed into your soaked pussy.

“Fuck” you breathed as he stretched you out “it belong to you daddy”

“Damn right it does” he snarled as his hand went around your throat “and daddy doesn’t like sharing”

“I’m sorry” you panted as he squeezed slightly on your throat. Everything was getting too much and you were so close already and Jax knew that.

“I can feel you clench around my cock” he panted “you like it when daddy fucks you like a little whore don’t you”

“God yeah” you moaned as his increased the pace he thrust into you hitting the spot every time “can I cum please daddy”

“Hold on a little bit longer babygirl” Jax smirked as his hand moved from your throat to your throbbing clit.

“Please daddy” you begged “I can’t hold it much longer”

You screams were so loud as Jax purposely pushed you to the edge you couldn’t help it as you came in that instance, it was the hardest he had ever made you cum, you could feel your own wetness running down your thighs but Jax powered through he wasn’t quite done yet as he grabbed the vibrator from the nightstand putting it on the fastest setting and holding it against you clit. Within minutes you felt like you were gonna explode.

Jax knew what he was doing ever since he made you squirt a couple of months ago he’d always try and make you do it again when he was being rough.

“Fuck” you cried “daddy please”

“Come on slut I know you have one more in you” Jax panted sweaty rolling down his abs.

The constant vibration on your clit and him pounding you senseless took you to heights you had only experienced a couple of times and it wasn’t long before you came again but this time three times harder than before, the feeling of you clenching his dick so hard made Jax cum.

Your whole body was exhausted as you continued to cum, you know the sheets would be soaked.

“You feeling okay darlin?” Jax asked as he littered your face with soft kisses.

“Mmmm” you groaned keeping your eyes closed.

“You ass isn’t too sore is it?” He asked.

No matter how rough Jax was he always made sure he didn’t cross any lines.

“No” you mumbled “just sleepy”

“Rest up baby” he whispered nuzzling his face in your neck “I will carry you to the car soon and then we will have a bath and put a film on and cuddle until you fall asleep”

SOA TAGLIST

@chibsytelford @talicat713 @corebore123 @nothingeverdies @teapartydreams @mrspeacem1nusone @khyharah @itmejado @woahitslucyylu @beth-winchester21 @minnicelli @everyhowlmarksthedead @trulysuccubus @haynsey @witching-hour @destynelseclipsa @edonaspanca @abbiesthings @angelreyesgirl @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat @jadesamhart @lady-pswrld @ly--canthrope @hennessyauntie @gemini0410 @i-love-scott-mccall @est11 @mystic-shadows42 @sugary-x-sweet @starrynite7114 @skyofficialxx @terminallygenius @sadeyesgf @lauraashley93 @leaalfred @angelreyesgirl89 @sheeshgivemeabreak @marquelapage @meteora-fc @penny4yourthot @justahopelessssromantic @ilikechocolatemilkh @mayans-sauce @xbreezymeadowsx @ben-c-group-therapy @-im-fantastic- @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @milaxmariex @fvckthisbxtchup

#jax teller oneshot #jax teller x reader #jax teller imagine #jax teller fanfiction #Jax teller #sons of anarchy

[slyttherins]

A Jily wedding | Wolfstar

Summary: Slices of life leading up to Jily’s wedding

Pairing: Sirius Black x Remus Lupin / James Potter x Lily Evans

Word count: 2589

-

James, Sirius and Peter sat at a table at the Leaky Cauldron, drinking beers and celebrating James' last days as an unmarried man.

''I can't believe you're getting married. Married!''

James rolled his eyes and finished the last of his beer. ''Shut up, Pads.''

''I mean, who would've thought you'd end up marrying Evans. All those years of trying and failing to get her on a date finally gave something.''

On the other side of the table, Peter snickered, remembering how desperate James had always been for her during their years at Hogwarts. Someone will without a fail mention it during their speech at the wedding. There were so many good stories about James Potter's grand flirting techniques - and failures -, it would be a shame to not share some with their guests.

''Moony, where are our beers?'' James called out to him.

''Coming!'' he replied from the bar, only now receiving the tall glasses. ''You're getting the next round,'' he told Peter when he sat down.

Sirius wrapped an arm around his shoulders and toasted to James - again.

''I don't get it. How can you be so calm about this? You're getting fucking married in twelve days, Prongs!''

The closer they were to their wedding day, the less nervous James was - unlike Lily who was a nervous wreck, planning everything with his mother. Sometimes, she'd ask his opinion on things like cake toppers or flowers, but James always told her the same thing: I don't care, do what you please. To some, it could pass like he was behaving like an ass, but he truly didn't care whether there were white or blue or yellow flowers on the table-centers. To him, all that mattered was that his beautiful fiancé would become his wife at the end of the ceremony. That Lily Evans would become Lily Potter. The rest...was just confetti.

.

''Is Petunia coming?''

Remus Lupin knew nothing about weddings, but, unlike the other marauders, he was helpful. He had come to the Potters' to help Lily with some last minute preparations like the final seating chart and making sure everything was in order for next week - and she couldn't be more thankful.

Lily looked down. ''No. She...she isn't,'' she replied, feeling her eyes welled with tears.

Remus pursed his lips into a thin line, now regretting asking. ''I'm sorry.''

''She made her choice a long time ago. I don't know why I ever thought for a second that she'd send a positive RSVP...''

''She's your sister. You're allowed to be upset.''

''I thought she could make an exception for one day, for my big day, and put her hatred against the wizarding world aside, but I guess not.''

Family was a difficult subject for Lily Evans. Mainly her relationship with her sister, Petunia. They used to be very close, but her witch abilities put a strain between and their relationship had kept deteriorating until they became completely distant.

Two years ago, Lily - alongside James - had attended Petunia and Vernon's wedding. Although they hadn't talked the whole night, Lily saw this as a step into rekindling their relationship, but Petunia had proven wrong when she didn't return the favor and checked the RSVP as 'no' for Lily's wedding.

''My parents cannot make it to my wedding either. It's so sad to think that on my big day I won't have any family there to see me walk down the aisle. I don't even have someone to give me away to James-'' She pushed her face in her hands, more upset than she let on.

Remus' heart broke at the sight of a crying Lily, five days before her wedding. She didn't deserve this. She deserved a beautiful wedding with all of her loved ones in the attendance. A wedding filled with love and happiness.

He squeezed her forearm. ''You have me. I can be your family for one day.''

At Hogwarts, she and Remus had become best friends - much to James' jealousy. Their friendship wasn't to the marauders' level, but they were very close - thanks to being both prefects, and studying and potion partners.

If James were there, he'd add that they were both bookworms too.

Lily raised her head, the couple tears she had let slip now visible. ''You'd do that?''

Remus nodded. Yeah, he'd do that.

.

This morning, a letter had arrived from Madam Malkin announcing that their robes were finished being crafted and that the boys could come in and try them on in the afternoon.

The accent color of the wedding was a rich purple-y red color which somehow suited everyone. When Madam Malkin revealed the robes to the marauders, they were pleasantly surprised and excited to try them on.

Everyone's robes were different while being cohesive, just like their personalities. The base of the outfit was simple: white shirt and black trousers - except for Peter who was the ring bearer. James, as the groom, had a cloak, a vest - matching with his best man - and a bow tie. Instead of a bow tie, Sirius and Remus had matching ties. Remus also had suspenders instead of a vest because Lily prefered that for him - and, according to Sirius, he looked fine.

''How do I look?'' James asked, standing in front of the floor length mirror and perfecting the cloak over his shoulders.

''It looks nice. But, won't you get hot in this?'' Peter replied, slouched in one of the chairs, munching on some snacks and leaving crumbs on his nice dress shirt.

''Probably. I'm only wearing the cloak for the ceremony, though. Padfoot? Moony, what do you thi-'' James turned around and groaned, seeing the two kissing in the corner. ''Bloody hell, can you two not suck faces for ten minutes?''

At James' voice, Remus pulled away and looked down, sheepish. ''Sorry.'' His lips were slightly red and a piece of his hair was sticking up at the back.

Sirius, on the other hand, was unbothered and still staring at Remus as if he was some bone to munch on. ''If Evans hadn't put Moony in bloody suspenders and fit trousers, it wouldn't be an issue,'' he defended, taking a seat beside Peter. ''Have you seen his ass-''

''I don't want to hear it!'' James interrupted before Sirius could finish, raising his hands to cover his ears like a child.

Madam Malkin appeared in the fitting area. ''Everything alright here? I heard screaming.''

''All good, Madam Malkin,'' Remus replied politely with a small smile, hoping she hadn't noticed his burning cheeks.

Sirius looked smug and Peter was snickering in his seat, amused by the situation.

''If one of you tears or stain anything before the wedding, you'll be paying for the repairs,'' James warned them - Peter included.

.

One week before the wedding, James did the unthinkable and walked in on Lily trying on her dress. It wasn't intentional - he didn't even know she was home -, but Mrs. Potter had shooed him out of the room quickly, screaming that it was bad luck to see the bride in her dress before the wedding.

''I didn't even see the dress!'' he promised from the other side of the door. ''But, just so you know, I'd still marry you if you were wearing a pillow case.''

Lily had laughed. She was going to marry that idiot. ''And you better have a dress robes when I see you at the altar, Potter.''

.

''So...who's next?''

''Next what?'' Remus asked, confused.

''Who's the next marauder to tie the knot?''

''Well, Peter. But I suggest you take a seat because that's not happening for a long time. Have you seen him flirt with Dorcas? He can't even pick up that she isn't interested in boys!''

They both bursted laughing.

''It must be you, then.''

Remus choked on his tea, almost spittering it all on himself. ''You know Sirius and I can't get married, Evans.''

''Not now, obviously.''

''Even if we could, marriage isn't Sirius and I's deal. We love each other very much, but have no intention on getting married - ever.''

Although it could sound nice to call Sirius his husband, Sirius' view on marriage had been heavily tainted because of his family and blood purity obsession. In the Noble House of Black, you didn't marry out of love, but to keep the bloodline pure. Toujour pur.

A few years ago, his parents had even tried to force him into marrying his cousin, Narcissa. Sirius had found it morally disgusting and was very thankful when Narcissa married Lucius Malfoy.

''He might changed his mind for you.''

.

''How was your afternoon with Lily? Has she gone all bridezilla yet?'' Sirius asked when he heard the door of his and Remus' shared flat open and close.

Remus chuckled as he removed his boots. ''Surprisingly, no. She'd have all the reasons to, though. She received some last minute RSVPs and has nowhere to place them on the seating chart, the florists got the wrong colors for the arrangements and the Ceremony Official mixed up his dates and Lily and James' date isn't available anymore,'' he explained. ''If I were her, I'd be crying on the floor - but don't tell her that.''

Sirius laughed and went around the counter to greet Remus properly, abandoning the sandwich he was making himself. ''Your secret's safe with me, love.'' He kissed Remus who scrunched his nose, smelling a mix of exhaust and leather on his boyfriend.

''You've taken out the motorcycle?''

''Yeah. I went on a ride with Prongs. We came up with a genius idea to drive him to the altar on my motorcycle, but there's very small chances Lily will let us.''

''With reason.''

Much like Remus, Lily wasn't a fan of that motorcycle. Motorcycles itself were dangerous and had a high risk of fatalities, but Sirius' was huge and fast and could fly, which made it ten times more dangerous. Plus, James and Sirius were very reckless on that motorcycle and had once been chased by muggle authorities.

.

The ceremony went on smoothly - if you don't count Peter almost dropping the rings. James had shed a few tears when he saw Lily in her white dress and Lily didn't forget her vows, which she had been nervous about. Her memory wasn't the best under stress.

After saying 'I do', everyone had moved to the magically enlarged ball room for the reception. As expected, the place was beautiful. Rich purple-y red and white flower arrangements, chic drapes, floating lights and a massive cake.

Like expected, Sirius had filled his best man speech with embarrassing anecdotes of the couple - mainly on James' end. He did tease a bit Lily too - otherwise it wouldn't have been fair -, but he was harder on James, as expected. The guests had laughed and James was embarrassed, which was all Sirius wanted.

''You just wait for payback on your wedding day, Padfoot,'' James threatened as they shared a shoulder hug.

.

Lily might not have gone all bridezilla on her wedding planning, but she insisted on handing her guests a list of rules for the night. There weren't too many and they were simple and basic. No pranks. No gorging yourselves at the buffet table. No exhibitionism. No drunken speeches. No getting so wasted you can't walk. No white for the women attending.

Some were specifically hinted toward one or more people, but she figured that all their guests could use those rules.

Lily had joined Remus at a table as the guests danced to rest her sore feet. She had charmed her shoes before putting them on so they wouldn't hurt her feet from wearing them all night, but the charm must've worn out by now.

''Mrs. Potter,'' Remus greeted, nodding his head.

The redhead chuckled and took a sip of her champagne. ''That's me.''

''You look beautiful, Lily. Radiant.''

''I can't believe I'm married, Remus. Married! This is insane.'' She smiled and took another sip.

A few feet from them, Sirius' shirt was halfway unbuttoned and his tie was undone as he danced with James, a drink in his left hand. His hair was pulled into a messy half-up, too hot to let them down fully, and Remus watched with discouragement and endearment. They looked ridiculous.

''Seeing this makes me regret what I just willingly signed up for.''

Remus laughed. ''Worry not, we're in this together.''

''They look like idiots.''

They laughed and James held on to Sirius who's drink tilted and almost made a mess. Sirius brought it up to his lips and kept on dancing with his best friend.

''You think Sirius will make it till the end of the night? How many drinks has he had?''

At this moment, Sirius tripped on his own foot, making him vacillate and almost falling. More than he should've.

''I'll handle him,'' Remus assured.

.

When Remus decided it was enough, he pried Sirius from the room and led him to one of the couches in a secluded part of the ball room to - hopefully - sober up before going home.

Lily had offered them a sobering potion, but Remus had declined it, knowing Sirius would be annoyed and want to drink more after - which he really shouldn't if he doesn't want to get alcohol poisoning. It wasn't his first time dealing with a drunk Sirius - and he didn't really mind. He was easy enough to manage.

Sirius' head rested against the high armrest of the couch, sprawled like his bones had been replaced with jelly. Drunk and dazed, he reached out for his boyfriend and dragged him down with him, making Remus squeal in surprise.

Sirius took hold of his hand and brought it to his face and leaned into it as Remus sat on his lap.

''Where's your tie?'' Remus asked, not seeing the silky strip around his neck.

Sirius looked down and shrugged, only now noticing that it was in fact not there anymore. He shrugged, not caring much about the lost tie. It's not like he had planned to wear it again.

''You're very drunk.''

''And you're very pretty.'' Sirius wrapped his arms around Remus' neck and started kissing his jaw lovingly and drunkenly. ''I love you, Moony.''

In his last stage of drunkenness, Sirius Black was a needy and affectionate drunk - before blacking out, that is. Once he was past the goofing with James stage, he was the neediest person, wanting nothing else than to hug, cuddle and kiss everybody he knew - especially Remus.

He'd look around the room, searching for Remus just so he could wrap his arms around him and kiss his face and flirt with him. To love and be loved in return. It was all a drunk Sirius wanted - needed.

Remus tried to resist Sirius' kissing and pulled away, insisting on keeping his promise to Lily and following her wedding rules. He looked down at the raven haired wizard, seeing clearly how much of a mess he looked with pieces of hair were falling into his heavy eyes, a soft smile across his lips and the smooth skin of his chest on display from his half buttoned shirt.

''Shall we go home?'' Remus took a piece of Sirius' hair and twirled it around his fingers.

Sirius shook his head in protest, feeling the effects of alcohol dissipate a little. ''Wanna stay a little more,'' he said...only to change his mind less than a minute later, which made Remus laugh.

''Let's go say goodbye to the newlyweds, first.'' Remus helped him get up from the couch and walked back to the party area.

#wolfstar #wolfstar fic #jily #jily fic #sirius black #remus lupin x sirius black #Remus Lupin #james potter #lily evans #harry potter fic #marauders era #wedding fic

[ververa]

Easy Lover - preview

A/N: Okay, so, this is actually a part of a long story, which finishing is taking me a lot of time. And because a few people asked me to write some smut and I have no idea when or if I will ever finish this story at all, I decided to post this part.

I'm not a master of writing smut, but I hope this can be considered a good enough answer to the question - what’s underneath Billie’s dress. 

I'm sorry if this is bad 🙈🙈🙈 Also any kind of feedback would be really appreciated. 

Hope you enjoy it!

Billie Dean Howard x fem!reader

Word count: 2 356

As she heard your steps Billie slowly turned round to face you. She wasn't at lose of words often, but when she laid her eyes on you, she was taken aback. You had on a silk robe from underneath which she could easily notice a set of black, lace lingerie.

"Oh my" she smirked "Is there any special occasion?"

You shook your head no and approached her. Billie couldn't hide her shit-eating grin, neither could she keep her hands to herself. She immediately pulled you closer to herself and kissed you passionately. You smiled against her lips and kissed her back, but then pulled away, as she tried to remove your robe.

"No no no, Miss Howard. No touching" you said taking her hand and guiding her to your living room "Sit down" you ordered gesturing towards one of the armchairs, in which you both spent countless nights watching TV or making out.

Billie Dean smiled to herself. She absolutely loved when you were taking the control over. She let herself sink in the piece of furniture and watched you with anticipation. She could say you were both excited and nervous, even though you were doing your best to hide it. Billie was observant and knew you too well - not to notice how you were slightly bouncing as you barefoot moved around the room or how you were biting your lip and playing with one of your robe tapes. She found you both adorable and sexy, but she knew better than to let that apparent innocence of yours deceive her again.

"Thank you, honey" she said when you handed her a glass of her favourite wine

"You are welcome" you beamed 'accidentally' brushing her arm as you were moving to stand behind her

Billie smirked, she knew exactly what you were doing. Getting to see that confident and bossy side of you was a pure bliss. 

Billie closed her eyes feeling your body pressing against her from behind. You leaned in and kissed her cheek and down her jawline, while your hands found their way to her blouse and began unbuttoning it. You were doing it mercilessly slow and she was getting more and more impatient. She wasn't a huge fun of foreplay, especially when she was worked up and wanted nothing more, but to have you on your knees straightaway. That's why she tried to take the control over by grabbing your hair and holding you in place to kiss you deeper, to feel you closer.

"I said no touching" you broke the kiss and freed yourself from her hold

Billie growled, but you paid no attention and continued to unbutton her shirt.

"Y/N... We can skip the foreplay... I'm already worked up and ready for you" she complained between kisses that you placed on her neck

"Oh, I know that" you said amused by how desperate she was "I just like torturing you..."

"You little-" a gasp escaped her lips at the feeling of your teeth grazing her earlobe

"And making you say 'please'" you added exposing more of her skin

Your hands slipped under her blouse. Billie whined when you started massaging her breasts.

"Y/N, sweetheart, could you just-" she gasped once again as you sucked on her neck "P-please?"

"Please what?" you moved back just a little, giving her a chance to form some coherent sentence

"Please give me what I want"

You smiled with satisfaction. You absolutely loved the fact that you were the one to make Billie Dean Howard beg.

"Since You asked so nicely, I think I can do that for you" you packed her lips and moved to stand in front of her

"Yes. Please, please, honey"

You stopped a few inches from where she sat and took of your robe, Billie licked her lips lustfully looking at your body.

“You’re beautiful” she praised

You could feel a blush forming on your cheeks, but you ignored it and kneeled. The blonde watched you as you crawled towards her. You didn’t hurry. You took your time, before you finally positioned yourself between her legs. You placed your hand on her ankle and then slowly moved it up her leg. Billie quivered with excitement when you reached to unzip her high-waisted skirt. She shifted, so that you could take it off. You removed her skirt and tossed it to the side, looking appreciatively at what was underneath.

Under her silk blouse and tight skirt she had a set of black lingerie with a suspender belt and transparent stocking. You smiled - she had obviously had plans for that evening.

“Well well  well” you bit your lip “What a nice surprise, Miss Howard”

“Like what you see? I bought it for you”

“Of course, I do, but I’m afraid I’ll need to mess it up a little bit”

“It’s all yours. You can do whatever you want”

You smiled mischievously going back to your previous position between her legs. You gently took off her high heels and put one of her legs on your shoulder. You trailed open-mouthed kisses up to her thigh. Then you unclipped the suspender belt and took off her stocking. You did the same with her other leg and removed her panties, so that you had a better access.

“I want you to touch yourself” you said

Billie looked at you a bit surprised. Usually she was the one to give such kind of orders, though she didn’t mind letting you be the boss from time to time. In fact, she was happy to obey.

You stepped back a little, so that you could see all of her. You watched as Billie slide her hand down her belly and moved her fingers right where you wanted her to. 

You sat on a fluffy carpet, right opposite her, sipping on your wine and watching her - skillfully moving her hand.

“Am I allowed to use my other hand, ma’am?” drawing your attention to her face for a minute

Billie realized you rarely had a chance to be the one in charge when it came to sex. You may have been in control in different aspects of your relationship, but as soon as you entered the bedroom, she was the dominant one. That’s why that one time she gave in and submitted.

She watched you out of the corner of her eye as she was touching herself. She could say you were pretty content with the turn of events. You looked as if you were in the zone. You were so focused on her hand that you needed a few seconds to process her words.

“It’s okay if I’m not” she continued “But in that case I think I’ll need some help”

You lifted your head and looked at Billie. The ecstatic expression on her face and her eyes -black with lust made you feel a tingle. You nodded emptying your glass before standing up and making your way towards her.

Billie’s eyes were locked with yours as you straddled her lap. She wanted to say something, but before she could you kissed her. Billie moaned at the taste of wine on your lips. You slowly moved your tongue around her mouth. After a moment she could feel your tongue all over hers and by the look in your eyes, she could say that your feeling were driving you wild.

Billie let you keep the control and dictated the pace of kisses, while she kept working on building her orgasm. You carried on kissing until you were both breathless. As you pulled away Billie looked at you. She smirked and kissed your jaw.

You could say she was close and much to her dissatisfaction you put your hand on hers and made her stop. Billie looked at you trying to figure out what mischievous idea had come to your head and for how long you were going to torture her. She waited for another command, but you said nothing. Instead you used your thumb to open her mouth and made her suck on your middle and index fingers. She hummed enthusiastically curling her tongue around your fingers, making you moan.

Billie Dean was amazed with how you had changed during the past few months of your relationship. You grew even more confident than you had been before and you for sure got to know her body better than anyone else. You might have been younger, but you sure were a fast-learner.

Billie kept the eye contact. She wanted to see your eyes, your face, that smile of satisfaction. Yet you surprised her once again. You used your free hand to bring Billie’s wet fingers to your mouth and copied her actions - swirling your tongue around them. There was a familiar gleam in her yes and just the you knew you were doing good.

You couldn’t keep your hands to yourself any longer, so you moved your fingers from Billie’s mouth to where her own hand was just a few seconds before. She moaned as you slipped your fingers inside her.

“Oh.my… Yes!” she whined 

Billie took her fingers out of your hot mouth and grabbed you by your hair to pull you closer to herself, so that she could kiss you. She moaned into your lips at the feeling of your moving inside her.

It wasn’t easy to gratify her needs. She had a great stamina and could keep going for hours. Though you had practiced enough to know exactly how to satisfy her.

“Honey… I’m g-gona… come” she panted

“Do it” you said

Billie ran her nails up and down your back, before her hands rested at the small of your back. She squeezed your waist tighter. You were pretty sure that you would have bruises in the places where she held you, from how hard she gripped your flesh, but you didn’t care. You were too busy, watching Billie in awe. Her head fell back and she rolled her eyes as the intensive sensation took over her body. She cried out your name and let her eyes shut for a moment.

You smiled looking at her and pecked her lips before pulling your fingers out of her. You licked them clean making sure that Billie was watching. The things you were doing to her… the feelings… it was all driving her crazy. She couldn’t hold back any longer. She wanted to mess you up. 

Before you had any time to react or process what was going on, Billie already held you in her arms. Quickly, but carefully she laid you down on the carpet. She was kissing you passionately, while you helped her remove her shirt. You placed your hands on her waist trying to pull her closer. She smiled against your lips before moving to suck on your neck. You whined at the feeling of her hot breath and warm mouth.

Billie was about to take off your bra, when suddenly, out of nowhere, you heard your father’s voice. Your eyes widened with terror. You had completely forgotten that you had asked him to bring you some stuff and that he had a spare key.

“Fuck” you mumbled pushing Billie off of you

You began putting on your clothes back as fast as possible. But there wasn’t enough time. No matter how hard you tried it was impossible to dress properly and compose yourself.

“Where are my panties?” Billie asked zipping up her skirt

“I don’t know… They have to be somewhere…” you said furiously trying to put on your clothes and fix your hair

It was too late to look for the missing piece of Billie’s garment. Your father was already upstairs.

“Y/N…” he stopped as he saw his boss

You were both standing there awkwardly, trying your best to look as natural as possible.

“Oh, Billie? I didn’t know you’re here”

“Hello, Robert!” she said adjusting her skirt “Well, I haven’t expected to meet you here either” she added, at which you shot her a warning glance  

“It’s nice to see you anyways. I’m glad Y/N has some company”

Billie tried hard not to laugh.

“I came only to leave some things Y/N asked for”

“Reliable as always” Billie commented

“Thanks dad”

“No problem”

“Behave yourself!” you warned her making use of the fact that your father wasn’t looking at you

“Yes ma’am” Billie said, but it was hard to take it seriously, especially that she found you more adorable rather than dangerous and the whole situation, itself, was just ridiculous

“Y/N, you could clean here from time to time” your father said picking up a pair of panties from the floor

You could feel your cheeks turning red when you heard his voice and then Billie’s giggle.

“These are mine actually” she said

“Oh… OH!” his eyes widened as it suddenly clicked for him

He looked at you and you hid your face in your hands desperately trying to compose yourself. You wished the earth could swallow you up, while Billie Dean just stood there as if nothing happened. She could barely hold her laugh back - amused at how both you and your dad got so flustered.

“Well…” he spoke up “I’ll… I am… I’m going downstairs. Yeah. Y/N, shall I see you… Yep. Great. I’ll just…” he shook his head ready to leave

“Umm… I’m sorry, but could I get my panties back?” Billie asked doing her best not to burst into laughter

“OH… Yes” 

“Thank you, Rob” she said taking her panties from your father, who didn’t even look at her

“I’ll… I’ll just go downstairs” he said

Billie nodded and as soon as he was gone, she looked back at you.

“Oh Lord. Oh Lord! Oh fuck…” you kept repeating

“Are you okay, honey?” she laughed approaching you

“Did you really have to do that?”

“Do what?”

“Ugh… You’re the worst” you complained

“The worst?” she arched her eyebrow playfully “Well, last time I fucked you properly, you screamed something completely different” she pouted

“Billie!”

“Come on, he would find out anyway” she said pulling you closer “Now, calm down and let’s go downstairs”

Tag list: @midnight-lestrange​, @natasha-danvers​, @stopkillinglilyrabe​

#billie dean howard #billie dean howard x reader #AHS #ahs imagine #ahs murder house #sarah paulson imagine

[thexam-union]

Straight-To-Video Sequel

Here’s a fic about Alphecca and their Nonsense! They’re a clown and a fool but I care them so much, especially when they make things so much harder for themselves for entertainment value.

Length: 1370 Words

General Overview: Alphecca’s bored and goes on a “20 minute adventure” to keep themselves sharp. They’re bored of the base material, so they shake it up a little!

Warning(s): Arson, Being chased down, Serial Killer

( If you need anything else tagged/forewarned about let me know!! )

The air is cold, biting at you like teeth without a sense of weight to them and with an endless hunger only obtainable without a stomach. The rain is pelting at you with equal force and hatred, spattering haphazardly on your face. You blink more than usual, but this is what you have to deal with. There’s a threat on the horizon. You know what it is. It’s a man. About your height. He has a machete, and smells of blood and rotting meat. He drove you out of the only shelter for miles around, and you are running. You are running in this forest in the driving rain, careful not to slip and fall but every bit as desperate to just get out. He can smell your breath in the cold air, the warmth of your shaky heartbeat. He can move faster than you in the storm, and you know it.

Alphecca jumps into these scenarios every other day. For fun. Sometimes alone, sometimes with other people. It’s a personal favourite, but overdoing it removes any and all appeal. So they shook it up. This time, the killer can smell you. A slight retelling, diction to a recorder, but it’s worth it! It’s always worth it to shake it up a little, and dashing around in the dark in the rain with sunglasses of all things on? It was a fun experience, actually. Especially since they didn’t know how the story would end this time.

They see a sturdy-looking tree with a low-hanging branch, and start to climb. They fall off once, but pick themselves out of the mud and pull themselves up again. If they feel in actual danger, they can just leave. They don’t want to, of course, but they do remind themselves of their power in this situation. Turning on a gamemode where you can’t die when you’re actually at risk so nothing bad actually happens. But they swing up into the tree, regardless, and push up their glasses with a satisfied sigh, even with their hoodie tied around their waist despite the chill in the air and the driving rain, they’re enjoying themselves. They look at the ground below, but they know their little diversionary tactic is a very short-term solution. Of course, they’re unarmed - it’s no fun when you drop into a situation with a tailor-made fix - but these branches should be able to accomplish something. Maybe. A blunt instrument’s a blunt instrument, despite the encumbrance. The adversary’s faster and has every advantage, after all. Actually, that’s a good point.

Untying their hoodie from their waist, Alphecca tied it around a branch with a satisfied nod before continuing on their way. A meaningless distraction, but there’s better options elsewhere, and that elsewhere’s back at the lakeside cabin. So a meaningless “make the opponent scramble up a tree” means they have time. And obviously, they’re not dressed their best when going up against this scenario, so they don’t have to worry about damaging their favourite jacket. Just a hoodie that’s a bit on the small side and some easily-repaired trousers that are probably going to be caked with mud. All in all, not much problem if it was a close shave. They like things better that way.

Next course of action on this mad dash around the trees is to circle widely and then beeline for the right place. The wind may be howling, but in these make-believe fictions it’s an inconvenience that’s there for the sake of immersion and fear factor. Fear, in all its forms, can make the world go round. That much they live by. The chase wasn’t their main scene, but getting lost in the same trees over and over again? That had the perfect zest.

They were starting to lose steam a little bit into this, which is always disappointing, but ultimately expected. It’s fine, though, they knew they were going the right way, even if it was just by muscle-memory and general awareness of the area. The off-step snapping of twigs that occasionally hit the ground like a bunch of kids with a bag of bang snaps wasn’t a good sign, but what was a good omen was the lake coming into view. A supposed holiday location gone wrong, but who in their right mind would want to have a holiday here? The only reason Alphecca chose to be here was the fact there was a risk and hazard to experience, not the lakeside view. They have no interest in fishing, either, but it’s not as if the fish in the lake are anything but dead.

Alphecca slammed the door behind them and jammed a chair under the handle before taking a minute to breathe and wipe off their glasses. No, they weren’t coming off during a killer chase. They’re iconic, for one thing, and the lamps in the building were just too bright. Now, as for potential defense mechanisms, the best thing to grab is a ranged option. Wood not recommended but might have to be settled for - they didn’t take in every detail of the building even in their numerous passes, because who would? - but something they did like the look of was the rope. Bang.

Not to go full Home Alone on a nonproblem, but rope’s the gift that never stops giving, and those banisters are looking very tetherable. Especially with this thickness and length, where it’ll take a few slashes to take out a shard, and could probably be a safe exit. Killers aren’t that smart, or they’d find the sweet spot immediately. Burning the place up isn’t an option for a few reasons, but that never translates into “don’t even try”. It’s actually very cinematic to douse-- Ohoho, that’s devilish. And the new plan!

Picking up a bucket and a canister of fuel and pouring it in, Alphecca saw the door start to give with a crack. That had to be done manually, then. Fine! No problem. Just throw it at him through the ropes and maybe hit it into the lake while they burn the place? Sure. Sounds good. Sounds very dramatic, so of course it had to be the solution. No one min-maxes their killer escapes, thank you very much.

The door gave way and the chair did too in the same moment, splinters going everywhere as the man started clanking up the stairs at a pretty steady rate. At least, until the gas was thrown at him, along with a lantern that started the fire. Bingo. Next up, window! One end of the rope thrown over the edge, and shimmy down it ju-

Or not! That hurt, actually. Hopefully nothing was broken in the fall, they could still stand, but they’d probably be limping for a bit. Not good. At least the screaming from the local inferno wasn’t coming in their direction. They’d call that a win, actually. Nice!

Alphecca reached into their handbag, pulling out their recorder and hitting the stop button, and the familiar smells of popcorn and pure sugar were in the air more than blood and rain and burnt wood. Their hoodie lied at their side, undamaged, but equally damp and in the same tied position as they’d left it on the branch on.

Their leg still really hurt, but nothing that sitting in the projection room with it up couldn’t fix. They’d been through worse! Besides, that was an escape if ever there was one! Put that in the history books. They coped so much better than that clumsy bint that didn’t know what an arson was.

Alphecca stood up with a self-satisfied smile, popping the tape out of the player and heading into the employees only room to pick up their ‘bag of tricks’ - bag of tapes was more accurate, but magicians never reveal their secrets - and to continue their day. Probably spend some time elsewhere to dry off, they were chilled to the bone, but that implied that the local beach was anything but overcast on a given day. The jungle was warm, sure but forests after that, uh… no! Best chances were probably over in the District, given that rain was pretty rare. That meant they could see the friends over there, too!

#thorpe park oc #fic #theme park ocs #🖋️ } Beltrame's Writing #🎠 } Beltrame's Jesters #⛰️ } The Island Like No Other #👻 } The Island After Dark #🌲 } The Jungle #📼 } Trailers #📼 } Alphecca #cw arson #cw chasing #cw serial killer

[stuckonstarker]

the importance of family

TW: Incest, Implied Underage (age unspecified),  Slight Dub-Con

@taestarker3000 this ones for u boo 😘

Tony figures it’s time to give his fresh-faced son the talk. Peter is fairly awkward and shy about anything he deems inappropriate, but apparently his curiosity trumps all because his first question is:

“What if I want to give my boyfriend a blowjob?”

Tony's mouth opens in pure shock. There's no way his little boy just asked him that. And there’s not a snowflake’s chance in hell Peter’s giving anyone a blowjob .

Tony shakes his head, “You’re too young.”

“Pretty hypocritical for you to tell me that,” Peter mumbles.

“Excuse me?” Tony says, eyes darkening. He will not have Peter disagree with him on this topic. 

Peter shakes his head, knowing a useless fight when he sees one, “Nothing, daddy.”

“No,” Tony says, “tell me what you think.”

“It’s really nothing, daddy,” Peter whispers, all his previous sass sapped away. He looks delectable with his thick-rimmed glasses and oversized sweater. God, the fabric swallows his lithe frame. The poor boy looks emaciated unless he devours a whole buffet.

Tony takes a moment to examine Peter - which is obviously making the younger Stark uncomfortable. Tony knows he should drop it. Peter’s old enough, and mature enough, to make responsible decisions. He isn’t a little kid Tony gets to boss around anymore, but when did Tony ever care about doing the ‘right’ thing?

Peter squirms under Tony’s harsh scrutiny. His face is getting hotter and hotter by the second along with his regret for asking about a blowjob of all things.

Tony laughs, a wolfish grin spread on his face, “You’re a little piece of jailbait, Pete. I know guys who’d eat you from the inside out.”

Peter gawks. He opens his mouth and flounders to find his voice: “...What?”

“Right,” Tony says with a taunting laugh, “like all the little-dicked boys at school don’t chase your twink ass twenty-four-seven.”

Tony shakes his head; it’s patronizing, like he’s talking to a child about something that’s obvious to everyone else. He presses a sickly soft kiss to Peter’s temple.

“You’re so sweet, Pete,” Tony whispers. Peter can feel his dad’s hot breath on his forehead.

He nods, unable to voice how he feels. There’s a rush of warm arousal traveling straight to his dick and he can hardly focus on anything. Every second his dick is trapped in his pants is another second he’s losing his mind.

Tony sighs, “Why did you ask about such a vulgar thing then?”

“I was just curious,” Peter whispers, averting eye contact like his life depends on it.

“So you expect me to believe that you asked about a blowjob because you were curious and not because you have some little boytoy waiting to get his fix of a dumb, young twink’s mouth?” Tony asks, like it’s the craziest thing in the world.

Peter flinches at the word dumb.

“All I’m saying, Pete,” Tony continues, “you’re asking a little too much from me.”

Peter hates the thought that his dad might think less of him. Hates the thought that he might not be good enough.

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” Peter says, trying to reassure his father, “I’ve never been kissed. And… I - uh - never… I’ve never been with-”

“You’ve never been fucked?” Tony asks.

Peter squeaks, “Yes.”

“Good,” Tony says.

He pushes his son onto the bed. A horrified realization seems to hit Peter as Tony towers above him.

“What’s happening?” He asks, gawking.

Tony says, “Take off your shirt.”

“What?” Peter asks.

“Take off your shirt, since you’re so fucking curious about sex,” Tony says.

Peter shakes his head, “I-I… I didn’t want this-”

“Too bad,” Tony cuts him off harshly, “this is the sex ed you’re getting, kiddo.”

Normally, Peter would tell his dad not to call him kiddo, but they’ve gone way past normality at this point.

“What if it hurts me?” Peter asks. There’s a meekness in his voice that tugs at Tony’s heart and even makes him consider stopping. Consider.

Tony sighs, “Do you really have such little faith in me?”

“Well, you are being really weird right now, daddy,” Peter says.

“I promise,” Tony says, “that my special boy will feel good.”

Peter pauses, “Promise?”

“Swear on it,” Tony confirms.

Peter takes a moment - like his decision will really matter to Tony in the end - and says, “Okay.”

Peter feels like he’s overheating while his stomach does flips. It really feels like he’s having an out-of-body experience. He must be hallucinating or something because there’s no way that this is happening right now. 

Peter slowly removes his shirt, eyeing Tony like prey staring in the eyes of a predator. His face is flushed soft pink and he can’t help but shiver as the air hits his suddenly bare torso. Luckily, his humiliation makes a good heater as his face, neck and shoulders begin warming. 

Tony yanks Peter’s loose jeans off, followed soon after by the young man’s boxers.

Peter goes to cover himself, only to be stopped by Tony. 

“Keep your hands here, unless you want to be punished,” Tony says.

Peter nods, allowing his wrists to rest above his head. He doesn’t want to make his dad more upset than he already is.

Tony smiles at Peter’s obedience. Such a trusting boy.

He takes a moment to admire Peter’s soft, porcelain skin that’s only marked by freckles. That’s going to change today. He leans down and presses soft kisses on Peter’s thighs to start.

Even the featherlight feeling of Tony’s lips makes Peter mewl. Every slight motion sends small sparks running up and down Peter’s body like pinpricks. Tony begins nipping and sucking on Peter’s inner thighs and it sends a rush of warm arousal flooding to Peter’s abdomen. 

Peter’s hips buck up, but Tony’s quick to hold them down.

“Dad,” Peter whispers.

Tony chides, “Don’t be a brat.”

Peter’s soft whimpers of want sends delicious delight through Tony’s veins. He can’t help how his calloused hands run along Peter’s hips and stomach. He loves groping every inch of Peter’s soft skin, memorizing every single detail for later.

Tony looks at his young son’s cock. It’s small - adorable, much like everything about his son - and flushed, perfect and exactly what Tony had imagined.

Peter's face heats up again. Tony nips gently at Peter's sides. Peter squeaks and pulls away. 

“That tickles,” Peter complains.

Tony smiles, “My apologies.”

Tony continues running his hands all along Peter’s perfectly sensitive body. Such a cute little virgin, he could be trained into the perfect cockslut with enough determination. Tony could probably spend all day groping Peter’s sweet body, but he has a bigger goal in mind.

Peter watches in awe as Tony frees his own cock. It’s considerably bigger than Peter’s and it's surrounded by a bush of thick, black pubic hair. Peter feels his face heat, suddenly aware of how his own size lacks.

“Have you ever seen another man’s cock before?” Tony asks.

Peter shakes his head.

“Don’t lie to me,” Tony snaps, “I see all the filthy shit you look up, Pete, all the porn you get off to. There’s some very questionable shit in there, hon, I didn’t think I raised you to be such a little slut, but I can work with it.”

Peter isn’t sure he can be more humiliated. All he can do is nod shakily and obey whatever his father says next. 

“Get on your knees,” Tony says.

Peter does as told, a sharp gasp jumping from his throat as he sees the thick, lengthy, veiny cock in all its glory. It has a heady musk. A loud voice in Peter’s head urges him to put his mouth on it. He wants to choke on the thick cock so intensely it actually scares him.

“Open your mouth.”

Tony barely gets the first syllable out before Peter’s eagerly opening his mouth like some whore. Tony groans, if he had known his son was such a little slut then he wouldn’t have waited this long.  

Tony begins, “Keep your throat relaxed. I know that might be hard for you. And watch the teeth.”

Peter nods, trying to follow his father’s advice to the best of his ability.

The tip of Tony’s cock slowly breaches Peter’s mouth. It feels indescribable for both parties. The warm, wet cavern of his son’s virgin mouth almost making Tony lose his self-control. Every slight movement sends a warm rush of lust through Tony and it takes every fraying piece of self-restraint not to brutally fuck his son’s mouth.

Peter can hardly even take the first few inches of his dad’s thick cock. It’s overwhelming, every single detail burning into his brain like an iron branding. The feeling of the dick twitching in his mouth, how it smells musky and overwhelmingly perfect. His mouth is just so stuffed with cock, it’s making his brain malfunction.

For a brief moment, he truly believes this is what he’s always been made for.

Tony admires how beautiful Peter looks. He is a virgin with no experience whatsoever, so it’s understandable that the poor boy can’t fit the whole length in his mouth yet. But the pitiful thing sure is trying.

There’s a soft pink flush that paints Peter’s face while tears prick at the corners of his eyes. There’s some drool leaking from the poor boy’s pretty pink lips. He looks absolutely debauched and Tony can’t get enough of it. 

“Do you realize how gorgeous you look?” Tony groans, “Mouth stuffed full of my cock… I know you love it. This is exactly what you’re slutty little body was made for.”

Peter moans around the dick stretching his jaw.

Tony smiles, “Good boy. You know what a dirty slut you are, don’t you?”

Peter gives the smallest nod.

Tony laughs and pets Peter’s hair encouragingly.

Peter begins bobbing his head on the cock that stuffs his mouth. He hollows out his cheeks as he slowly takes the whole dick. He can’t possibly take the whole cock, being his first time and all, but he’s certainly going to try.

Tony’s head lolls back, eyes screwing shut. He groans through gritted teeth. The warm, wet pleasure his son’s mouth provides is truly sinful. A salacious desire blooms throughout Tony’s abdomen. 

He holds Peter’s brown curls in a knuckle-whitening grip. He’s fighting against his instincts, he wants so desperately to force fuck his babyboy’s throat. 

It’s quite obvious Peter’s inexperienced, but that doesn’t make him bad by any stretch of the imagination. His enthusiasm more than makes up for it. He desperately swallows Tony’s cock, gagging on it and taking it like the perfect little slut. 

Peter gags as the tip of the dick hits the back of his throat. Tony holds Peter so that he can’t pull away from the cock choking him.

Peter can’t say that he minds.

The cock is thick inside of his mouth, his jaw strains around it. It aches, he must admit, but he loves it either way. He looks up as he continues to take the cock in his mouth

The wet warmth of Peter’s mouth sends electric pleasure surging through Tony. Peter’s soft hand rubbing him to completion. There’s a tight knot forming in the bottom of Tony’s stomach; a harsh discomfort screaming at him to cum.

But, Tony has bigger plans than cumming on his son’s face. 

“Okay,” Tony exhales, “that’s enough, baby boy, get on the bed.”

Peter stays on his knees for a moment with wide, confused eyes. He looks so sweet. And so dumb.

Tony laughs, “I’m not feeding you my cum today, baby, we’ve got other things to do.”

 Peter nods and stands up. His legs are shaky like a newborn fawn. The bedsheets are cool to the touch and work to soothe Peter’s overheating body. 

Tony’s eyes are dark; nothing like the loving father he had been just an hour earlier. There’s a dangerous, predatory darkness that seems to lurk just beneath the surface of his soul. Something about the danger makes Peter reel with want.

“Daddy,” he whispers reverently.

 Tony smiles, it’s sharklike, “Yes, baby?”

Peter pauses. He isn’t sure why he called for his father in the first place. There’s a dim want buzzing underneath his skin. His eyes trickle down to Tony’s cock.

“Does my little slut want his daddy’s cock?” Tony asks.

Peter nods, “Yes.”

Tony laughs and gently caresses Peter’s face for a moment. Peter’s body is overrun with shivers, there’s something so intimate about what his father is doing that it almost makes Peter gag.

Tony’s wolfish smile doesn’t leave his face. He manhandles Peter, maneuvering him to be face down ass up.

A loud debate erupts within Peter. Two halves of the same coin; one yelling that this is wrong and the other arguing this is what they need. Peter himself is at a loss. Every inch of his body seems to be alight with want, but there’s also a sick nausea - he’s so exposed to his own father of all people.

Before he can fully make up his mind, Tony’s calloused hand is running down Peter’s spine, goosebumps trailing close behind. The buzzing want grows into pleasured pinpricks wherever his father’s hand lands.

“I’m scared…” Peter whispers so close to silently that he isn’t even sure if he said it or not.

Tony says, voice gentle, “You’ll be okay, baby. I promise. Your daddy would never hurt you, would he?”

Peter looks over his shoulder. Tony’s eyes are gentle, filled with sweet promises.

“My daddy would never hurt me,” Peter echos.

Tony smiles, “Good.”  

Peter’s dick is impossibly hard between his legs. He’s aching for some relief, no matter what kind. There’s a heavy want that rests in the pit of his stomach. The longer he goes without his father’s touch the more he realizes he depends on it.

Tony presses a lubed up finger against his boy’s tight entrance. Peter’s walls cling tightly to the finger. Tony could cum even from imagining shoving his cock into Peter’s tight ass. 

Slowly spreading Peter open only serves to rile Tony up more. Even can hardly even think past the fog of his lust. Peter’s ass looks perfect taking his daddy’s fingers, spreading his legs and arching his back like some whore. Peter’s always had a nice, firm ass.

Tony spanks him lightly with his other hand, just to watch the way his ass bounces.

Peter moans distantly. The fingers feel awkward, but they do send sparks of pleasure rushing through him occasionally.

After sufficiently prepping Peter - or, in other words, after Tony’s patience had fully snapped - Tony allows himself to rub his aching cock between the flushed cheeks of Peter’s bottom.

Peter mewls, looking back at his dad. His hips roll, desperate for more. He wants more, even if he can’t handle more - especially if he can’t handle more.

“You want me to fuck you, baby?” Tony asks, “Huh? You want this cock to ruin you?”

Peter makes an affirmative noise.

Tony smiles, “Too dumb to speak?”

Peter nods frantically. He spreads his legs. The low buzzing beneath his skin turning into a roaring wildfire. His body is overheating. He needs and he needs it now.

Tony pushes his tip in, not wanting to rush. The sight is one to behold. Peter flushed, already aching with want - ready to take anything his daddy is willing to give. His eyes go from being impossibly wide to screwed shut and his mouth is open in a perpetual ‘o’.

The tip stretches Peter nicely; his father’s impressive girth not disappointing. Tony pushes his cock deeper into Peter - watching in awe as his son’s tight body swallows his cock.

Pleasure rockets up Peter’s spine and he lets out a desperate cry. The thick cock rubs up against a perfectly sensitive spot and it refuses to relent. Peter can feel every vein in his body being bombarded with fiery lust, every inch of his body being covered in an unholy blanket of want.

“Please,” Peter whispers, tides of desire overtaking his mind, “please, daddy, please.”

Peter can feel every inch of the massive cock filling him up and taking his virginity. It’s making him sore in the best possible way. His mind and body spark alive with electric pleasure; it rockets up his spine and runs through his limbs. 

The sudden surge of pleasure makes Peter’s eyes water. It’s just too good. It feels like every inch of the cock that enters him only serves to push him further into his sinful desires. Tony’s cock rubs against every sensitive spot in Peter and stretches him so perfectly.

Peter moans and begins rolling his hips backward, trying to get more of that perfect dick deep inside him. He can feel Tony holding his hips, guiding him and allowing him to take every inch of that amazing cock.  

“Daddy,” Peter whines.

It’s too good to contain. Peter can feel it all, the way the cock stretches him and strains against his walls. He can feel how the tip of the cock relentlessly rubs against his sensitive spots, making him desperate for more.

The moment his father is fully sheathed inside him is one Peter will never forget.

Peter makes a strangled noise. There’s something so delightful about being spread open and taken. Something deep within him coming to light. An unexpected fulfillment. He feels so good that it aches. He never knew something could feel so right.

“Please,” he whispers through the fog of lust that’s overtaken his mind.

Tony groans. Peter’s walls cling around his cock so tightly… The feeling is indescribable. He pulls out and, with a sharp snap of his hips, thrusts back into Peter - provoking a yelp from his son. The pleasure is so overwhelming, he grits his teeth. 

Tony starts fucking Peter with a rough pace. His cock slams into Peter’s tight ass over and over again, ripping the boy’s innocence from him.

Peter moans. He feels detached from his body. Like he’s floating in the sky amongst the clouds. Bliss blooms in his abdomen, like a flower sprouting from the ground.

There’s a tight pressure that’s beginning to form in both of them. Peter can feel every slight movement of Tony’s cock rubbing against him. It’s too mind-numbing. It hurts… But Peter can’t say that he wants it to end.

Peter’s breath is being stolen from him. His body strains against the thick cock fucking into him. Every snap of Tony’s hips sends another wave of painful lust through Peter’s body.

Peter’s eyes are screwed shut. He bites his lip in a vain attempt to restrict his whorish moans for more.

Tony forces Peter to take every agonizing inch of his massive cock, stretching the poor boy beyond his limits. It hurts in a way that makes Peter’s body light up with pleasure, it screams under his skin and takes over his mind. His legs are spread open, his body presented to his dad like little more than a fuckhole.

Peter cries into the pillow. His hands cling to the bedspread. He looks a mess, hair clinging to his sweat-sodden forehead, his eyes watering with unwept tears, his lips red and soaked in saliva.

He can only focus on the dick slamming into him. It feels too perfect to be real, too good to be wrong. It’s all overwhelming. The head of Tony’s cock relentlessly rubs against every sensitive spot inside of Peter’s body. It sends lightning strikes of pleasure coursing through Peter’s veins. 

“You look so sweet-” Tony groans into Peter’s ear, “-so sweet and just for me.”

Peter can only nod as he barely registers the words.

Desperate pleasured cries are ripped from Peter’s throat. Liquid fire pools in his abdomen, pleasure blooming deep inside of him. He’s uncomfortably hot, his breath comes out in strangled moans and pained pants of pleasure.

Tony has a hand on Peter’s hip, holding onto him so tightly that it’ll surely leave a bruise. Fucking Peter feels like a religious experience. Tony’s never felt something so overwhelming. Peter’s so tight and wet and warm. He’s daddy’s perfect boy.

It’s all so much - too much. Tony’s thrusts are sharp and hard and they hit that perfect spot in Peter every single time. It’s mind-numbing. 

Peter spreads his legs, wholly unaware of what he’s actually doing. He claws at the sheets. He’s sent reeling forward with every rough thrust. His brows furrow, every muscle in his body tightens. He aches for his finish. He can feel his end so close yet so far away. It’s too good, so good. He cries loud and desperate.

“Please, please, please,” Peter repeats like it’s the only word he knows.

It’s so good he’s choking on it. The waves of lust inundate him, he feels like he’s drowning. His dad holds him in place - it’s cathartically rough. Peter whines, his vision is blurred and his words are slurred. He rolls his hips backward, deliriously trying to meet his father’s rough-paced fucking.  

Peter continues to beg, “Please, please, please.”

He can’t get enough of it, but he can’t handle more. The pleasure is gathering, tightening into a small ball of want deep in his stomach. His body aches, tightens, begs for release.

He’s losing his mind. When his hysterical pleas die down his mouth remains open in a silent scream. He tightens his grip on the blanket. Euphoria rushes throughout him, it’s hot and raw and real..

He’s so painfully hard, but he can hardly focus on that. There’s an endless onslaught of pleasure and pain assaulting him at every turn. Peter makes a strangled noise and screws his eyes shut again. He grits his teeth, every overwhelming sensation attacking him at once.

Peter’s convinced he’s in heaven. There’s no way anything could feel better than this. Than Tony’s cock fucking into him, spreading him open and taking him. Tony’s thrusts are rough and carelessly perfect, it sends Peter’s mind spinning.

It’s humiliating how satisfying it is to be used as little more than a sex doll. Peter tugs at the blankets, biting his lips in a desperate attempt to restrain his pleas for more. It’s all so overpowering, he can feel every movement, every single thing. It’s all so perfect.

Peter’s hips roll backward in a frenzied attempt to meet his dad’s cock. He doesn’t care how desperate he seems, he is desperate for his dad’s cock.

He can hear Tony’s groans of pleasure above him. It sends a flood of warmth throughout Peter’s body. He lets out an aborted plea for more as the coil of need in his abdomen tightens. He feels desperate for more, desperate for it to end.

More. More. More.

Peter cries, “Please!”

“I’m going to come inside you,” Tony says, voice husky, “make you all mine. Ruin you for anyone else.”

Peter nods frantically. That’s exactly what he wants. He can feel it. Being fucked harder and harder, making him dumber and dumber.

It’s all so much, all so little, all at the same time. He collapses fully into the sheets. His body tightens. He aches for more. He can feel his father pressing into him, stretching him and fucking him so perfectly, so roughly, it’s mind-numbing. It’s impossible to focus on anything besides his dad’s amazing, massive cock.

It all builds up and explodes. Peter lets out a scream as he feels himself cumming on his dad’s cock. His hands scramble to find purchase in something other than the endless pleasure. It’s impossibly good, it’s so good. His body tightens around the thick cock buried deep inside of him.

He lets out a string of overstimulated whines as Tony continues to fuck into him, eventually cumming inside of his son.

Peter’s whole mind is foggy. The afterglow of his orgasm has fully taken over. He feels like he’s floating on a bunch of clouds. He struggles to breathe or even think. He’s forgotten even the most basic functions. It’s like he’s gone through a factory reset.

He’s aflame. Sweat clings uncomfortably to his skin and his father’s cum deep inside of him is foreign feeling. Tony pulls out slowly, it’s weird and slightly painful. Mostly, though, Peter’s focused on the strangeness of what just happened.

“Daddy?” Peter asks softly.

Tony gives him an acknowledging noise.

Peter looks at him with wide, honey eyes.

Tony smiles, “So sweet. My baby boy, good boy.”

“Your good boy,” Peter repeats, “your good boy.”

#starker #nff #tw incest #max writes

[llamagoddessofficial]

OK, now you’ve got me curious. What would happen if MC got fired?

Oh boyo. It’s probably someone new in management who doesn’t quite understand how important she is in keeping the prison actually running considering the two most powerful and dangerous inmates are smitten with her. They decide her relationship with the inmates is unprofessional, and they’re too attached to her… she’s out within the day.

Under the cut because Skull gets… upset. Tw a lot of death and blood.

Sans: He finds out first, considering he gets checkups with her so often. He goes to his checkup and it’s a new doctor… he asks if she’s sick, and he’s met with a cold ‘Ms. Mc was let go yesterday.’ So he does what he does best- lies. He immediately starts to feign worsening health, not eating, not drinking, not sleeping. He claims that Mc was the only one who actually knew how to treat him properly, and that the prison staff is neglectful and untrained. He knows how important the prison’s reputation is to them, and exactly how much privilege he has just by being so weak… And management is far too terrified of letting one of their physically weak monster prisoners die that they allow Mc to come back just to treat Sans.

Who obviously miraculously makes a full recovery upon her return.

Red: When Red finds out he’s furious. The one person he genuinely likes is the one they get rid of? Not on his fucking watch. He gets his boys together and stages a full-on prison riot- they can’t put all of them in solitary, and the new guy very much underestimated Red’s stranglehold on the interior population. They’re more afraid of Red than they are of the officers. His demands are very clear- he’s going to make every single goddamn day hell for the guards, cleaners and managers until he gets his little sweetheart back.

Skull: Let’s just say it isn’t pretty. He gets agitated after a whole day goes by without her visiting him, but he chalks it up to her being sick. She’s been sick before. He counts the seconds, the minutes, the hours… at the two day mark he stops eating. And on the third day, while a group of guards try to get close enough to keep him down while a doctor sedates him so they can make him eat, one of them accidentally offhandedly mentions that it’s a ‘shame’ Mc got fired and ‘won’t be coming back’ because she dealt with him so easily.

And Skull completely snaps.

He kills a guard before anyone has time to think, tearing his arms out of their restraints and slashing his chest open. A guard has enough wits about him in the panic to hit him with a taser but Skull’s running on such pure rage and desperation that he shrugs off the pain and pins him, tearing out his throat- the remaining guards fucking bolt out of there with the doctor while Skull beats and tears up a corpse in a complete blackout fury. No one can get in to get the bodies out; but it really isn’t a mystery what Skull wants, since he’s screaming Mc’s name so loudly it starts to choke him. The doctor ends up calling her and telling her to come- he doesn’t care what management says, they need this beast soothed.

She shows up in home clothes. The second Skull sees her in his room, he...

He just starts to weep. He’s relieved, confused, tired, and not even sure if it’s really her- he’s hallucinated her voice and face multiple times over the course of the last three days. He’s covered in blood and the room reeks of death… but she gently removes his mask and cradles his skull to help him calm down while he clings to her midriff and apologises over and over and over because he knows he did a bad thing and he’s getting bloodstains from his massive hands all over her pretty shirt and he hates that he has no control over himself anymore, but the only time he ever feels lucid or happy is when his face is buried in her clothes or hair or against her skin.

The bodies are removed while she’s holding him, and her job is returned to her within a few hours.

#llamagines #prison au #baby skull just needs an mc and a mug of hot chocolate

[sserpente]

A/N: Request from anon. Pure smut. Really. Enjoy. ;-)

Words: 2265 Warnings: smut smut smut

Oh, for Heaven’s sake! Frustrated, you closed your laptop shut and placed it on the empty space on your bed next to you. Porn was so obviously an exaggeration with women moaning in ecstasy at the slightest touch near their pussies and men with long and thick dicks that probably wouldn’t even fit into horses.

All you had meant to do was find some inspiration to get yourself off. The image of a strong man above you, pleasuring you by every trick in the book, doing hot things you had seen in some of the videos you had watched.

It was no use. As soon as you closed your eyes, your hand sneakily wandering down your body until you reached your dripping folds to tease yourself, the only man you saw in front of you was the Norse God of Mischief, his raven hair tickling your skin and piercing blue eyes devouring your naked form beneath him.

A sigh escaped your lips. You might as well… your fingers found your slit, gathering some of your wetness to circle your clit lazily. The simple touch made you shiver, your body arching its back in joyful anticipation of what was to come all the while the one you imagined exploring your soaking cunt was him, with long and soft digits taking the time to examine you.

Loki had been dominating your thoughts for weeks, months. It had all started during a risky mission, one that had almost cost you your life if it weren’t for Loki who saved you. Before that, he had been the mysterious, cocky but also restrained little brother of Thor, the bad guy and handsome god of trickery you occasionally imagined fucking. His heart was locked away in a chest, out of reach even for him—but on that day, you got to see a very different side of Loki.

His stunning blue eyes had been sparkling with concern for you, his body shielding yours in the most vulnerable manner. He had carried you back to the helicarrier without so much as any hesitation, ensuring the doctors on board would treat your wounds.

Loki was so much more than he let on; not only pleasing to the eye and skilled with a mischievous nature… but he was a good man. A good man with a warm heart which had been hurt, sliced and cut open one time too much, a heart which he himself was afraid of to lose to darkness and evil.

You loved his dominant aura, picturing the things he could do to you in bed… and yet you longed to see his soft side again, the side he hid so well from the Avengers and SHIELD because to them, he would always remain the war criminal. The villain.

The thought excited you, your hand starting to move faster. Loki would bury his face between your legs, ravishing your cunt like a sweet dessert, his skilled silver tongue working its magic on your sensitive bundle of nerves until you begged him for your release. And only after forcing you into countless orgasms that left you sweating and screaming his name, he would push your legs wide apart for access and sheath his huge and hard cock deep inside you.

The God of Mischief had, of course, not the vaguest notion of your growing feelings for him. For all he knew, the whole compound loathed him for his actions in the past. Sometimes, secretly, you imagined walking up to him determinedly, in front of the entire crew and the Avengers and kiss him senseless to shut them up.

Gods, you were so wet…

“Loki…” You moaned, throwing your head back into your pillow. “Loki…”

 -

They hated him. And of course, how would they possibly not? Thor’s own hostility had driven a dagger into Loki’s tormented and tainted heart and now he remained as what he had been born—the outsider.

For all he knew, his help on various missions as well as the fact he had saved countless human lives ever since his return to Midgard was considered but a means of compensations for his actions in New York. Actions which he had not been entirely responsible for and yet, even his own brother refused to listen to his one attempt to explain himself. He should not be surprised.

This shortly before Halloween night, causing some mischief around the compound was the least he could do. He was a Trickster, always had been. If a good laugh upon seeing the famous Avengers scream and howl in fear posed his only reward for tolerating his new life on Midgard, then so be it.

Tonight, it was your turn—and since sleep would rarely come to him these days, the subconscious fear of the nightmares returning too great—and reading through Stark’s library proved to be ineffective, he might as well have some fun with triggering eye-watering reactions by casting eerie shadows, turning objects into snakes, skulls and body parts and even shapeshifting into repulsive creatures from the horror movies they all liked to watch so much at this time of the year.

Smirking to himself, he approached your room, knowing you never locked it at night. He knew you were terrified of the scary dead girl from “The Ring”. If he was lucky enough, you’d even jump into his arms for protection. He had very much enjoyed taking care of you before. The way you had clung onto him, trusting him with your life during that one fateful mission… quite frankly, you were the only Avenger in the compound he, so he had admitted to himself, had taken quite the liking into.

Loki was as quiet as a mouse when he turned the doorknob and peeked inside your room. The lights were out, your petite form, to his anyway, moving on the bed and breathing heavily in your sleep. He was about to send an illusion of the horror girl into your room when he suddenly heard it.

You were moaning his name.

-

You were close, so close, so close! Moving your hand furiously now, you applied just enough pressure to trip over the edge. You imagined Loki wrapping his arms around your hips dominantly, his tongue greedily lapping up your juices and his blue eyes locking with yours as you came undone for him. Your walls clenched around emptiness, longing to feel his cock inside of you, your orgasm rippling through you like thousands of waves of electricity.

“Ahhh… Loki!” You screamed, bucking your hips in a desperate attempt to ride out your climax.

Loki swallowed thickly, his trousers tightening with a start. You were not asleep. You were wide awake. You were… masturbating to the thought of him?

He gnashed his teeth, a sudden hunger awakening in his body. Having your small body in his arms, it was one thing… fucking you roughly to satisfy both his and your carnal needs was entirely another. The urge to join you on the bed rose, to force your legs apart, smell your arousal and bury his hardening length deep inside you, giving you what you so obviously craved.

You wanted him. It had been a while since a woman had longed for his touch instead of Thor’s.

Another moan escaped your lips as you withdrew your fingers from your dripping pussy. Covered in your juices, you simply wiped them off on your bedsheets, then turned over and closed your eyes, hoping that the relaxing orgasm would help you fall asleep faster.

Loki smirked to himself. If he held such power over your thoughts and imagination, he might as well hold power over you for real. Now, there was another way to scare you a little.

Without making a sound, he treaded into your room, approaching you hungrily. When was the last time he had shared his bed with a woman, satisfied his most carnal needs?

Before he could change his mind in fear of rejection, he pressed his palm against your mouth to keep you from screaming. You reacted instantly, thrashing around and struggling, attempting to strike your attacker.

Loki shushed you. “It’s me, little mortal.” You calmed down just a bit, attempting to say his name through his hand. “And I must say,” he continued. “That was quite a tempting show you put on for me. You could have just asked, you see… perhaps I would have taken pity and satisfied you. I can be a merciful god, after all.”

Loki’s voice was hoarse, your eyes widening upon hearing those dirty words coming out of his mouth. This was too good to be true. Surely, you were dreaming, even though… even though it felt so real. How could he… had he… was he watching you cumming and screaming his name?!

A moan escaped your lips, your arousal heating up your body faster than a lightning bold.

“Would you like me to take care of your needs?” Loki whispered darkly. “All you need to do is say the word.” He needed your consent, needed to know that this was what you really wanted. He was many things but he was not cruel. He liked to manipulate and trick but he would not force a woman to give him pleasure if she not wished to do so herself.

Unsure of what to expect, he removed his hand from your mouth. You were panting. “Yes… Loki, please do.”

Loki growled. It was all he needed to hear. Impatiently, he climbed on the bed, hovering above you like a predator all the while freeing his hard manhood from his black leather trousers. If only you could see him properly in the dark… for he adored the way your lips parted, tongue flicking out in joyful anticipation of what was to come.

Your legs fell apart willingly when he forced himself between them. What by the Norns had come over him? Devouring a woman without having courted her properly? His mother would have chided him and yet… the lust filling the warm air in the room clouded his mind like the moist autumn fog in the mornings.

“Loki…” You croaked out of breath, overwhelmed by the wonderful sensations he elicited. His skin against yours, his hands exploring your curves, kneading your breasts and playing with your nipples until they hardened under his touch and then, suddenly, he reached down to grab both your wrists and hold them down to both sides of your head, immobilising you.

You whimpered, afraid of losing your mind in this tornado of pleasure threatening to tear you high up and away, even more so when you felt his hard and warm length pressing against your dripping entrance. You moved your hips up, eager for him to sink himself inside you but Loki took his time, making sure he would not hurt you—claiming you agonising inch by agonising inch.

He growled like a wolf once he had finally sheathed himself inside your welcoming heat, your walls moulding around him like your body had been made for him. You threw your head back, exposing yourself to him devotedly, and when he withdrew and thrust back into you, you moaned his name so loudly you feared the others would hear you.

“Does that feel good, my sweet little mortal? Is this not better than your own hands bringing pleasure upon that tight quim of yours?” He muttered into your ear, his cool breath sending pleasant shivers up and down your spine as you climbed the ladder of orgasm higher and higher.

Loki fucked you both gently and roughly at the same time, his cock filling you so perfectly hitting all the right spots.

Unable to respond, you simply nodded, your hips bucking to meet his eager thrusts until you were ready to burst into a million pieces.

“Don’t you dare cum yet,” you suddenly heard him order out of breath. You swallowed thickly.

“L-Loki… please…”

His chuckle was dark but soon replaced by his own animalistic grunts as he neared his climax. Loki picked up his pace, rutting into you wildly and relentlessly. His lips came crashing down on yours, abusing your mouth for a passionate kiss which left you breathless. Oh, oh, you were going to…

“Loki, please!” You shrieked.

“Cum! Cum around my cock, now!” The God of Mischief choked out, stilling as he came and spurted ropes of his seed deep inside you, marking you all the while you obeyed him helplessly, your own high washing over you like a tidal wave. You clenching around him rhythmically, milking his cock for all it was worth.

Loki rocked into you a few more times, helping you ride out both your orgasms until he collapsed on top of you completely spent, only now letting go of your wrists. For a brief moment, neither of you moved but enjoyed each other’s bodies, still joined, and listened to each other’s rapid heartbeats and breathing.

Eventually, he withdrew, leaving you feeling empty at the loss of his now slowly softening length. He sighed. This… this had been amazing. Too amazing to be true. Perhaps it would be for the best if you believed it had been but a wet dream, his irrational fear of rejection returning with a start and hitting him in the chest like Thor’s hammer.

Loki pressed a tender kiss on your forehead, making you smile as your eyes closed before he reluctantly pulled up his trousers and left the room so he would not forget himself and pull you in his arms, bathing in the affection you had just showered him with.

-

A/N: No worries. Read Part II here.

Check out my blog to find more Imagines and take a glimpse at my first (to be) published novel! Also, if you enjoyed this story, I would appreciate so much if you supported me on Kofi! ko-fi.com/sserpente ♥

#loki #loki imagine #loki x you #loki x reader #loki smut #loki laufeyson #loki laufeyson imagine #loki laufeyson x you #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson smut #loki odinson #loki odinson imagine #loki odinson x you #loki odinso x reader #loki odinson smut #thor #thor imagine #the avengers #the avengers imagine #marvel #marvel imagine #mcu #mcu imagine #tom hiddleston

[writingsofmyimagination]

Instinct |5|

Attack on Titan Fanfic

Levi x Reader 

Summary: An unwelcome(ish) blast from the Captain’s trainee days comes back to the Scouting Regiment and old habits die hard.

Instinct: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 |

Words:2803

Warnings: Swearing (Obvs), Smut - Orgasm denial, knife/cum play (Oh yeah I went there!).......Sub Levi.....Like Oooof!

This took me wayyyyy to long to finish. So i’m sorry! Thank you to everyone who has messaged at one point or another asking if there will be more chapters.

This was going be the last chapter...but I decided that i loved it too much. There will be more but there will just be a time jump to a much more recent arc. So if you wanna be tagged let me know :)

Huge shout out to @submissive-bangtan who not only inspired me to do a Sub as f**k Levi but also helped me out with a few ideas (knives and cleaning of certain fluids :P) when my Smut brain died for a while.... Thank you, you’re amazing and I purple the hell out of you!!!

Permanent tags: @spideyboiiiiiii @pjimochi @nefelimalfoy​  

Sooo enjoy:

“Hhhhhmmmm Cold” Levi hissed as you removed the ice filled packet from his ballooned ankle.

“Obviously”

It was a rare sight seeing Levi actually laying in his bed, you just wished it was under better circumstances. You’d done as much first aid as you could for him, his ankle had been iced and was now elevated comfortably under a few pillows.

The mission had for most purposes failed. Levi’s squad was slaughtered as well as countless others from the unit. The female titan had surprised everyone with a hardening ability everyone had yet to even comprehend; allowing her to escape. The corps nearly lost Eren, it was only thanks to Levi and Mikasa you didn’t. Mikasa disobeyed direct orders resulting in the subsequent injury of Levi. Things were not looking good for humanity. Faith In the corps had gone to lower depths than you’d thought possible; Eren’s custody was to be transferred tomorrow to the Interior police. Erwin had one last final plan; the option of failure for this non-existant.

“Don’t move!” you ordered

“I’ll be back with some tea” Levi responded with nothing but a huff but even Levi dare not move under the gaze you shot him before heading downstairs.

“How’s he doing?” Hanje asked

“As grumpy as you can expect” you responded placing the water jug over the flames. Hanje smiled weakly, even behind the bright glare of her glasses you could see the dim and tired dying out glow.

“I know everything looks bleak but even when we discover the smallest amount of knowledge about the titans it will help” she offered

“I know, just wish the squad would feel your optimism, but this plan has got to work tomorrow otherwise we’re fucked even you can’t deny that surely?”

“I try not to dwell on any other outcome than our victory tomorrow.”

//

“I thought I told you not to move?” Frowning at Levi who’d sat himself up, legs dangling over the bed. As petite as he was the tone on hi body was near ridiculous as was his physical strength. The underwear only teasing his thighs.

“You did, I’ve ignored you. It’s not bad, I heal fast” You placed the tea next to his bed, sighing with a shake of your head.

“This is why I … At least let me strap it first” You grabbed a bandage from the draw and plonked yourself next to him and shoved him on his back and cradled his leg over your thighs and began wrapping.

“I wish you’d just listen to me, just once” you confessed defeated as you got up sliding your shoes off near the door subsequently locking it. He did used to listen but only when he submitted in the bedroom, never in the field.

“I’m going to keep you off your feet for a little longer” You offered with finality to a Levi who already had his legs dangling over the bed ready to get up again. You hindered him from getting up any further pushing him back as he went to stand. He conceded, bratty pout slapped on his lips; he pulled himself up to resting his head against the pillow. Your legs clamped either side of his waist resting on the back of your calves trapping him where he lay. Even injured he was strong enough to put up a fight but he didn’t.

Wise choice! Plan successful!l

“Yeah?” he questioned, his lips curving up at either end wickedly; his hands rested and gripped at your behind. You naturally arched into him.

“Mmmhmm” your hands found solace brushing up his undercut from the side and tangling in his hair.

“I was thinking we could play a game, like we used to or have you forgotten how much you like it when I’m in charge?” you traced a finger from his neck in a delicate soft move to under his chin. He chased your finger meekly into a kiss, soft at first. His grip on your behind grew tighter. His lips rougher, dancing with yours. His eyes flashing back to the echo of training days, two cadets sneaking out to the training posts.

With enough motivation to stay where he lay you slid of the bed and scooped up his harness that was hung pristine and delicate on the back of the door.

“Take everything off and put this on, I’ll be back in a minute” The leather was removed from your hand with instant obedience.

You took ten minutes to return, you only needed three. The other seven were purely for his imagination to stew.

On your arrival back he’d done as you asked.

“Good Boy” His eyes bloomed. Those words. Coming from anyone else would easily have earned a broken jaw, but from you; they riled something at his very core. He would sin to the heavens for you just to hear those words roll off your tongue. The leather, ribboning round his skin. Beautiful as it tried to contain the muscle underneath.

You grabbed the chair, wrist swinging it in front you. Your head nodded to the chair

Sit!

He sat.

“Did you think I’d forget how my Levi likes to be treated?” Your fingers clasping together at the base of his neck, your chest almost to his, your hips angling into his groin; his palms already applying pressure at your hips.

“Did you think I’d forget every last dirty thing I can get you to do to me?” your words slipped into a whisper at his ear as smoothly as your lips enveloped his ear lobe. Adams apple bobbing a deep groan in his throat as your teeth pinched the skin and your hips rolled into him hard.

“You sound so beautiful when you moan for me” praise tickling awakes the triggers at the back of his mind. He was weak for it, but what really drove him when you were in charge was the need to please you; to drag every breath, moan and obscenity from your lips. When you demanded it of course. When he was yours, the ability and familiarity of following orders to a fault remained in tune with his Corps life.

“Wanna play?”

“Yes” You tugged at his hair.

“Yes, M’aa…m” You ground your hips against him again for a final time as he grew hard beneath you.

“I’ve just got to grab something from downstairs”

“Again?” he whined.

//

His hands were locked in yours, pinned above of his head. His wrists looking so pretty with rope weaved around them. He was unable to see the way your mouth had curled into a smile, laced with satisfaction. Thee make shift blindfold seeing to that. He’ll have a reason to smile every time that cravat is round his neck from now on. His eyes had blown out so beautifully when he saw what you’d brought from downstairs. His thighs were tinted red, small red squares. The way he hissed through his teeth as the riding crop struck. Your core hovered, aching for the pressure of his thigh centimetres below.

“If I don’t cum from your words while I’m riding your pretty thighs you’re going to say blind and tied and I’m going to ruin every orgasm that I allow”

“If you do” he countered.

“If I do… you’ll be able to see and touch me and when I’m finished with you I’ll let you make me cum once however YOU want. Does that sound good to you?”

You lowered onto his toned muscle. His agreeance of his reward was tainted by a sigh that melted into your ears like honey when your hips circled; spreading how much he affected you.

“I’ve hardly even started and yet feel how filthy your thigh is already, coated with me”

His body fidgeted; Adams apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. The thought of getting dirty with you was too good. He wanted to feel your cum coat his thighs as you unwound above him and he wanted to SEE it.

“I’m waiting” You prompted. You wanted his words mixing with your hip movements. He’s was never much of a talker, so all them years ago you started doing these ‘games’ to get him to articulate what he enjoyed the most; and he was ridiculously good!

//

“I bet you wish it was my tongue in between your legs instead of my thigh don’t you?” Your fingers curled into his skin just above his chest, pressing more weight through your hands.

“Why don’t you tell me why…I should” you prompted through supressed moans as he tensed his quads beneath you. His hair falling off of his forehead as he rolled his head to the side, veins twitching frustrated in his neck.

“You love when my tongue glides through you, the way my teeth leave pretty little bruises on the inside of your thighs”

“Mmmm” you hummed in bliss rocking your hips.

“The long flicks of my tongue, the way you quiver and your leg tighten around my head”

Your hips circled in long drawn out ones, rushing to that high quicker than you thought you would.

“Your clit in my mouth, the way you arch your back when my fingers disappear into you. I love it when your fingers scratch down my back, marking me whispering how good you take my cock into your ear”

Your hips jolted along his tensed muscle, nails dragging down his chest

“Fuck” you hissed leg muscles dancing, clenching his thigh. A victorious smirk plastered across his face.

“Didn’t take you long were you that desperate?” You gripped his jaw harshly bringing his face to the centre, his lip partially pouting.

“Watch your mouth” you shoved his head to the side. He huffed, the regretful moan that followed when your hands clamped down around his weeping cock.

“You’re now going to suffer a bit longer for that cockiness” Your hands weaved through the harness tugging gently.

“But I’ll do as I said after”

//

“How’s that” you preened talking over the deep groan rolling around his throat as you lowered yourself down on him.

“Mmm tight…soo good” he whined. He had the audacity to roll his hips into you without permission.

“I don’t think so…” you half choked keeping your moan from him.

“You’re NOT going to move and you’re NOT going to cum are you?”

“No ma’am” Muscles twitched in his arm as the frustration was tugged onto the rope cocooning his wrists. You weren’t going to make it easy for him. The rhythms of your hips were something Levi confessed in being weak for; especially when he couldn’t control them. You could never get over how sexy it was when Levi’s bottom lip disappeared under his teeth, groans filtering through.

“…..”

You stifled yourself as you lent backwards grabbing your next play thing. His cock now pressed firm against the velvet patch inside you. Your fingers traced over some light lines on his chest, a subtle hint and memory triggering gesture.

Red trickled over tense pectorals, the stain spreading through the white linen. Hisses passed through pursed lips. Your hips circling torturous and slow clenching around him; his hips jutted up minutely as the glinting silver blade caressed over his skin. His head rolled back into the sheets; drunk on the sensation, goosebumps igniting a pathway where the red trickled down.

“Did you think I’d forget how much you love it when I make you bleed?”

“God I can feel your cock twitching; you love it when I mark you don’t you”

“Mmmhhmmm” he hummed, redirecting every ounce of energy he had to not fuck up into you. His cheeks secured in your hand fast.

“Excuse me?” you cued.

“Yes, fuck!” He whined.

“Does that sound like you want more?” You gave him a moment to retrieve a breath which you only stole clenching around him.

The knife edge balancing elegant over his collarbone. Obedient metallic soldier waiting for its command.

“More” he pleaded.

“Manners” Your hips had stilled waiting for the magic word. You detected slight exasperation amongst the breath of his whine of the sudden stopped motion.

“Please, god please don’t stop moving, you feel so good. Please mark me as yours, please”

“Much better” you praised, your hips resumed their light circles; your breath hitching when he reached the velvet goldmine at the front of you. Eliciting hisses from his lips, clenching and drawing neat lines soon to be littered with little pin pricks of red.

“So pretty” you cooed, hands ghosting down the centre of his chest; his muscles tensing at the contact.

The rope fell away from his skin, pretty rose pink lines now glazed on his wrists. His eyes flitting adjusting to the light finally landing between your thighs and his. Cum and arousal glistening off them. His arms had dropped above him resting on the squishy cotton of the pillow. His pupils fully blown out saturated with desperation.

“Can I move now?”

“Mmm yes, but you still can’t cum until I say” He didn’t need permission twice. He sat up, his freed hand supporting you at your lower back. Your own hands tightening together at the back of his neck; fingers gliding past the soft prickles of his undercut. The moment your back touched the mattress his head dived to the crevice of your neck allowing him to nudge your head to the side. Hot thirsty kisses decorating your neck, kisses becoming heavier across your clavicle. Fading red petals drifting away quickly. The kisses across your scarred side were longer, almost more sincere and compassionate. The warm comfort of oxytocin you brushed away pushing his head further down to where was really aching and pressing on your priority list. Humanities strongest weak for the treasure between your legs offered no resistance.

//

“Fuck…Stop!” you cried yanking his head up from your core, his chin glistening, cheeks tainted light pink from the heat.

“Just fuck me now” you whined. Moist plump lips made their way up your body. Your devilish eyes holding onto his with a vengeance.

Heavy breathed expletives diffused into the air. Levi’s low grunts getting deeper rapidly. His head already buried heating up your neck with nips and bites. Blossoming pink half crescents indenting on his back.

“You feel so fucking good” you managed in unison with the harsh juts of his hips.

“Fuck… I can’t” he struggled.

“After 3 and you can cum, you’ve been such a good boy” you purred. You were trying your hardest to control your muscles, hindering them from releasing the intoxicating waves.

“3”

“2”

“Ugh I can’t” he whined again. The desperation emitting through his struggling pants shoved you straight into a convulsing mess. He broke. Pulling out unable to hold just one more second. Spilling out over your stomach.

“That desperate you couldn’t even hold on one more second; and now you’ve made a mess” you were chasing your breathes, body basking in the aftershocks.

Exhausted pants fanned across your neck, low groans soaked in his throat.

“Mmm, I’m sorry” He whimpered. You dragged him into a suffocating kiss, his knee pressing against your soaked core causing sweet shudders.

“Seeing as you couldn’t control yourself you can clean your mess up” He nodded accepting his task, shifting upwards to leave the bed.

Oh no!

“With your tongue” you added holding his arm.

He made sure to scatter your breasts with wet prolonged kisses. The attention firing through your nerves like a flame spreading through gasoline. He smirked as his lips engrossed around your nipple which was already stood pining attention. His body shuffled down; eyes face to face with his mess. Your eyes never faltered, fixed on the all too intoxicating view of his tongue brushing against your skin, lapping up his own cum. A starving kitten getting all the cream.

“If only everyone else knew just how filthy you really are. The clean freak stops at the bedroom door” you shuffled under his mouth, already feeling that fuzzy feeling in between your legs pooling round your bundle of nerves.

“Nobody would believe you baby” he cooed in response creeping back up to nudge into the crevice of your neck; you could only hum in response.

“Enough now, let me go and get a towel and some water so I can clean you up” you offered glancing at the red smeared over his chest.

“Not yet”

“No?”

“If I know you and you know I do; you watching me clean up my own cum would have easily made you want to fuck again…so… I’d rather do that” Fingertips trickled down your body, dipping between your legs.

“Mmm see…your just as much of a slut as I am. Annnddd you said I could have you once exactly how I wanted”

“Well you know I’m a woman of my word”

#attack on titan #LEVI ACKERMAN #levi x reader #shingeki no kyojin #Attack on Titan Imagine #instinct #captain levi smut #attack on titan smut #yes i'm a damn hoe

[bouwrites]

Even Heroes Have the Right to Dream: Chapter 16

It’s the little things that separate the good from the great.

First, Previous, Next. Ao3.

Story under read-more.

Superboy makes his debut with the Teen Titans, alarming many and confusing many more. Jon thinks it’s frankly ridiculous that anyone is confused about the name being ascribed to a new teenage hero rather than twenty-two year old Jon considering that Robin exists, but, really, it’s not much of his business either way.

That doesn’t mean it isn’t strange, though.

Jon was sixteen once. Big for his age but still a bit smaller than Conner is now. Large muscles didn’t spare him the roundness of his face unlike Conner, who if he weren’t with the Titans might be confused for a few years older than he is. (Jon desperately tries not to think about the fact that Conner is, in truth, much, much younger than even that.) Jon also never bothered with the gruff affectation that his little brother seems to adopt that ages him so, the cute huffiness (and not at all fake temper) that Jon knows hides a lonely kid just looking for approval.

After all, if that isn’t at Conner’s core, there’s no reason for Conner to keep visiting him. Jon isn’t a hero, he’s not Superboy, he has no information or advice for Conner to do his hero job. The only connection between them, really, is that Jon accepts the kid as his adorable little brother.

Sometimes it feels like Conner spends a little too much time at Jon and Marinette’s cramped apartment, considering New York and Jump City are on opposite coasts. Jon tries not to think too hard about that, and instead takes time with his little brother at face value. Something that gets harder when he finds out that despite the time Conner spends in New York with him, Superman essentially only sees Conner on the job.

Not that Jon himself is having much luck talking to Superman right now. Ever since Jon found out about Conner, his dad has been avoiding him. Easy to do, with Jon tied to New York for his classes, but not at all appreciated. Superheroes are damn tiring even when Jon isn’t one of them.

Jon spent his whole life trying to live up to the image of his father. The Man of Steel, Superman, some even call him a god among men. Jon grew up watching his dad on television. He still has videos of himself in action, filed away on his computer, both with and without his dad at his side. Jon knows, logically, that he’s younger than any of the Teen Titans in some of those videos, yet watching Conner jump into the fray as Superboy is a gut-wrenchingly visceral feeling to him regardless.

Because Jon sees Conner’s face and he sees the lost kid closing himself off at the farm, wary but hopeful, volunteering information up until the point of embarrassment when he’ll turn away and pout like a child because he doesn’t want to admit vulnerability. The pure joy and shock and awe in his face, how completely flabbergasted he is to simply be called brother. The uncertainty, the confusion, the respect shining in those eyes, the same as Jon’s own, when Jon admits why he isn’t Superboy anymore.

The little kid who wants family, and who wants to make his own way in life, who suddenly and inexplicably finds a brother who accepts him without thought (seemingly, to him – Jon ensures that’s what he sees), who does exactly the opposite of what’s expected of him for no other reason than that this is what he needs to do to be happy in his life.

Conner looks at Jon almost the same way Jon used to look at Superman, and Jon is doing everything he can to never let Conner see just how deeply that unnerves him.

It shouldn’t. It’s not the first time a young man has looked at Jon that way. When Jon was Superboy, he got looks like that all the time. And yet… there’s something so incongruous about watching Conner punch bad guys with the rest of the Titans on television, and that little boy that looks at him with that look. Because that look makes every cell in Jon’s body scream at him to protect, to take Conner into his arms and never let the cruelty of the world touch him. But Jon can’t do anything for him when he goes out looking for that cruelty all on his own. All he can do is offer a home to return to, and a brother who undoubtedly loves him, no matter what else.

Conner’s attitude, the front he puts up when he works on missions with the Titans, when he’s on television, ages him several years, yet when Jon watches Conner still just looks so… young. It makes his insides squirm, and a voice deep within him rage at the memory that despite it being basically his own fault (because he surely would have gotten into trouble all on his own, especially with Damian dragging him around) Jon himself was put into that position at ten. Jon distinctly remembers being upset because he was too young to join the Teen Titans of the time.

Blame it on his newfound pacifism, but that thought is paralyzingly horrific to him now. Why the hell did Dad allow it? Jon can’t help but think. Because even if Jon would still have gotten in trouble, if only at Damian’s behest, forbidding him from hero work would at least have lessened the ridiculous number of terrible situations Jon was in. As a child. How strange, that Jon has to grow up so much for that thought to even occur to him. It seems like it should be obvious.

Or maybe it’s not age, so much as separation from hero life. He wonders if his view of the world seems as warped to them as theirs do now to him.

The boys are startlingly accepting of Conner. Jon really expects them to question it more, but after they are introduced to Conner when they all visit before the holidays, David turns to Jon and whispers in his ear, “So, your brother is totally baby, but also I think he could bench press me, so I’m really confused right now.”

Jesse scrunches up his nose. “Gross, dude, he’s a minor.”

“I didn’t mean it like that!” David protests. “I mean look at him!”

Mason chuckles, shaking his head. “No, I get what you mean. He’s just like Jon.”

Jon makes a face. “What?”

“Exactly!” David says cheerily. “Totally baby, but also could throw me like a football.”

Jon just shakes his head at the boys. “I’m not baby.”

Tamias giggles, along with – the traitor – Marinette. “Sorry, Jon,” Tamias says, “you’re kind of baby.”

Jesse dramatically slaps a hand to his face. “Boys, boys, come on. You’re seriously missing Jon’s big himbo energy?”

Jon squeaks in indignant protest, but it’s David that comes to his defense. “Jon’s way too smart to be a himbo, dummy. You’re a himbo.”

“I’m a mechanical engineer, dude!”

“That’s true, but also, and I mean this with every ounce of love my body possesses, you’re the dumbest man I’ve ever met.”

“Jesse’s a twig.” Mason snorts. “He can’t be a himbo if he’s a twink.”

“Thank you!” Jesse exclaims, huffing in finality for a moment before his eyes go wide once more with outrage. “Wait, what?! Rude, dude! I can be a himbo if I want to be!”

Marinette rolls her eyes. “Boys!” All the boys immediately quiet to stare at her. “Jon and Tamias are obviously both baby. David, you’re a himbo.” David squawks with outrage, though his smile tells them all he’s not really upset. “Jesse’s a boi, and Mason’s a daddy.”

Jon actually, physically cringes. “Marinette, I love you with all of my heart, but please never say any of those words again. I’m begging you.”

Marinette just shoots him a look that seems to say, “Hey, they’re your friends.” God. I know.

David coughs conspicuously into hand. “She’s right though.”

Mason cackles and wraps one arm around Jon and the other around Tamias, bringing both of them close in a hug. “My children.” He says mockingly.

“I can crush your head with two fingers.” Jon warns, glaring at Mason, who just continues laughing at him.

“You can.” Mason agrees. “But you’re too baby to actually do it.”

Jon hates, with every fiber of his being, that Mason is absolutely right. “I hate everything about this conversation.” He says, peeling himself away from Mason. “I’m going to go find my baby brother.”

Jesse snickers. “Baby brother.”

“I hate all of you; oh my God.”

So, yeah. As Jon swiftly removes himself from that conversation, it occurs to him that none of his boys seem to think twice about him suddenly having a little brother. It’s nice, he thinks, that not everything has to be a big federal issue all the time. This, and definitely not the conversation Jon steps away from, is why he loves those guys.

The apartment is small. Too small, really, to be hosting any number of people comfortably, which is why Jon is glad that his boys, and the girls, who stop by earlier, are only dropping in rather than hanging out. Just a small visit before the holidays, to say hi, to steal some cake that Marinette makes (because they have to, of course), and swap presents (not to open until Christmas, which David is insistent applies to everyone, including the girls) then head back home.

When Jon casts his gaze through the place, Conner is nowhere to be seen. Which leaves four options. The bathroom, and given how Jon’s dad is also missing, Jon hopes that isn’t the case, that they leave the apartment entirely, and Jon is sure they will at least tell him when they do, Marinette’s room, which for their sakes they better not be in, or Jon’s own room. Jon doesn’t mind that. It is a lot of people in a small space with all the boys over, so he’s not surprised Conner ducks out after meeting them.

Why his dad follows, however, is a different question. Judging by the growl on Conner’s lips when Jon opens the door, it’s not something that spells peace and unity for their family.

Luckily, the two of them apparently learn their lesson from the first time, and as soon as they have Jon’s judging gaze upon them, they both duck their heads in apparent shame. Jon just sighs, closes the door behind him, crosses his arms and arches his brow.

“Clark has been avoiding me.” Conner rats out their dad quickly, then amends the statement. “Us.” Conner crosses his arms, fingers digging into his biceps. Jon tries not to wince at how Conner’s knuckles turn white. “If he doesn’t want me around, he should just say so.”

“Conner,” Clark protests, “that’s not-”

“I’m sorry.” Conner says quietly, directly to Jon. “It’s because of me that you aren’t getting along with him now, too, isn’t it?”

Jon takes a steadying breath. “No, Kon. It has nothing to do with you.”

Conner’s eyes go wide for a moment. “But-”

“I’m pissed at Dad because he kept you hidden from me for a month. And because he’s been avoiding talking about it since then.” Jon glares at his dad for emphasis. It’s almost pitiful how Superman can look so small, especially in the face of his own son. “None of that is your fault, Kon.”

“But I-”

Jon marches right up to his little brother and throws his arms around him in a big hug. “It’s not your fault.” Jon says again. “You haven’t done anything wrong, so don’t convince yourself you have.”

As Conner’s arms slowly wrap around Jon in response, Jon narrows his eyes. Casting his gaze sideways, he swears his dad is just a little closer to the door than he was. Whether he is or is not trying to sneak out, though, doesn’t matter. He freezes under Jon’s watch.

Jon separates from Conner, looks him in the eye and nods, satisfied that Conner looks a little better, and then turns fully to his dad. “And how long did you think you could get away with ignoring me?”

Clark rubs his neck awkwardly. “Jon, it’s almost time to leave. We shouldn’t-”

“What?” Jon scoffs. “Shouldn’t talk this out? Consider it a Christmas present, then.”

“You have guests over. Now isn’t the time.”

Jon taps his foot. “Kon?”

“Y-yeah?”

“Will you please go let Mom and Marinette know what’s happening? Marinette can handle the boys until they leave if we’re not out by then.” Honestly, they’ll be so distracted by Marinette’s baking that they probably won’t even notice how long this’ll take. Jon doesn’t intend for it to be long.

Conner looks between him and Clark, indecision clear on his face, but eventually he nods and scurries out the door. Good. Jon thinks. Probably better if he’s not listening, anyway. When Conner closes the door again, Jon waits just a moment before turning back to his dad. Finally, without his baby brother watching, Jon breaks down just a little. A tremor in his voice, a shake in his frame. “Why?” Jon asks. “Why would you do… any of this? Especially with Kon. Don’t you see that he needs you? I can’t- I can’t be his dad and his brother I- I’m doing what I can, but…”

Clark shakes his head sadly, shamefully. “I’m so sorry, Jon.”

“Kon deserves the apology.” Jon says through gritted teeth. “You hurt him a lot more than me.”

Clark grimaces. “But I did hurt you.” He says. “And I’m sorry. I know I should have told you about Conner as soon as we found him, I just… I was scared. He was an unknown; there was no way to know he wasn’t a threat – I couldn’t just welcome him into the family if there was a chance he’s trying to hurt us. And I especially couldn’t let him hurt you.” Jon grits his teeth, biting back every retort in his throat. The shame and sincerity in his father’s voice deserve to be listened to. “You wanted to put this life behind you, and if Conner tried to target you…” He sighs heavily and shakes his head. “I’m sorry.”

Jon’s eyes and throat sting. Still, he says, “You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t have the exact same fears? Did you ever- ever even look at Kon? He needs you. I don’t care where he came from or even if he is… programmed, or whatever, to hurt us. He’s a kid, and he needed you, and you…” Jon forces out a sharp breath and draws a new one in. “I know you don’t really understand what I’m doing. I know you don’t get the way that I’m trying to live. And I appreciate that you’re trying to protect me, but how on Earth could you think that I wouldn’t want to meet him?”

“I knew you would.” Jon’s dad protests. “That’s why I didn’t tell you. I knew you’d find him, and I couldn’t risk dragging you into this again.” His eyes shadow as he averts his gaze. “I already did that once, and because of that, you still have nightmares. Panic attacks. I hurt you, maybe permanently, so bad that you had to give up being a hero entirely, because I wasn’t a good enough father. I just… wanted to protect you. I didn’t ever want to see you… like that day on the farm.”

Jon stares at his dad, unable to utter a word. That’s what this is about? He blames himself for Jon’s trauma?

“I keep thinking about what I should have done different.” His dad continues quietly. “And I just- it seems like every option was the wrong one. I- I don’t know where I went wrong. All I ever wanted is what’s best for you. And now Conner keeps trying to… connect. And I just keep thinking that I’m going to let him down, too.”

“Dad.” Jon’s plea comes out more like a choked sob. “I never blamed you for that.”

Jon doesn’t say any more than that. Just that one small, weak little statement. He doesn’t say any more not because he has no elaboration or nothing else to say, but because no more words allow themselves to cross the threshold of his throat.

Jon might mention how he often thinks about his father’s choices, and ponders if they were really wise, or even good. He might mention how angry he gets, thinking about not just himself and Conner, but all the young heroes who fight battles even grown adults should never have to go through. He might mention how, once upon a time, he idolized Superman just as much as the most devout of Metropolis, how he wanted nothing more than to be Superman, and how nowadays it’s not that he just can’t be Superman but that he actively doesn’t want to.

But he doesn’t say it. He doesn’t say any of it, because just like saying that he still thinks about the possibility of Conner being a sleeper agent will hurt Conner to an impossible degree if he hears it, if Jon says any of that right now, any of that equally true and valid thought that lingers in his head, it will tear his father apart.

It would be possibly the most violent thing Jon will ever do. Punches and kicks hurt, but this? That’s why he won’t. That’s why he can’t. That’s why he says the thing that he can, even if it’s not enough. Because that is also true. As much as Jon doubts his dad’s decisions, as angry as he is at his own childhood of danger and strife, even when he occasionally allows that anger to be directed at his dad, Jon never has and never will blame him for it.

Jon’s trauma, everything he’s seen and been through… some of it may have been avoidable, yes, but the worst of it? The parts that haunt him? That, he thinks, was inevitable. Based on his own personality, his own dream of being just like his dad, that was never his dad’s fault. If anything, his dad has always erred on the side of caution with him. It’s only after he slips out (with or without Damian’s help) and does it anyway that Jon’s dad corrects the rules to let him do those things he would do without guidance otherwise as safely as he can.

Maybe he was too accommodating? Maybe too sentimental, too hung up on his own struggles of growing up without an outlet to use his powers? Maybe he just made mistakes? But he did his best. He kept Jon as safe as he could, and Jon has never been anything but thankful for that.

Nothing else needs to be said. “I never blamed you for that.” Jon repeats, stepping forward to hug his dad tightly. He doesn’t blame his dad for that. Not any more than he blames Marinette for being Ladybug once upon a time.

“I-” Strong arms wrap around him in return, one of the most familiar embraces Jon knows. “Thank you, Jon. That means… more than you know.”

“You don’t have to be perfect, Dad.” Jon mumbles. “I know- I know everyone expects Superman to be, but you don’t have to. I love you, and Kon just wants the chance to love you, too. That’s all.”

Clark laughs, half pride and half disbelief. “When did you grow up into such a smart young man?”

Jon laughs as well. “Marinette helped.”

Clark holds that glimmer in his eyes even as he sighs. “You’re right. I’m… I’m going to talk to Conner. I’m going to be there for him.”

“You were always there for me.” Jon says. “So, I know you will.”

Jon is pleasantly surprised by just how calm the holidays are. Unlike the first two years, he’s not stressing at all for his finals before them – he is on top of his work from day one. Conner showing up does momentarily throw his schedule off, but at this point Jon is nothing if not adaptable. He doesn’t let it affect his studies.

Of course, he does owe a lot of that to Marinette and, oddly enough, Wayzz (the little kwami is heaven sent for reminding him to stay on top of his responsibilities, honestly, especially when Marinette is too busy with her own to spare the time to help him) but he isn’t totally irresponsible on his own. Even if he were, three years of Marinette looking out for him from the beginning is more than enough to get him into good habits of his own.

He just forgets, sometimes. Marinette does, too, but when she spends too long watching television, or engrossed in a book or her sketching, Jon is happy to return the favor.

Wayzz, their ever-watchful guardian, and on occasion Tikki, are by far the most consistently responsible ones, but then they’re not the ones that actually have to do the work.

But finals come and go and Jon has to say goodbye to Marinette for the holidays and, when he does part ways with her at the airport, Jon suddenly feels so incredibly lonely that he could cry right there. It’s so stupid of him. They part with much less fanfare every other year, and it’s not as if she wasn’t important to him from the start, but… now, her plane doesn’t even take off yet and he misses her so terribly. It’s like the moment she crosses that security line, Jon is left all alone in the airport. It feels as if even the many, many people making their ways to and fro aren’t even there. He feels completely and utterly alone.

He supposes he’s just too used to her company now. He felt the same before summer, too. Too used to her hand in his, or her looping her arm around his, or just the steady beat of her heart. Now that that rhythm is gone…

Jon shakes his head and moves on. He’ll visit soon, just after Christmas like last year. They can have a romantic date like their first, and it’ll mark a full year for them. (Jon still isn’t totally sure whether their technical anniversary should be Thanksgiving, the first day back from Thanksgiving, or that day not long after Christmas, but nonetheless the holiday season has one more thing for him to celebrate.)

It’s during the holidays, sitting out on his tree and staring at the stars, that Jon realizes that next semester is the last one. Only one more semester of college, then he graduates and… then what? He laughs at himself, shaking his head. All that soul-searching, all that trouble, all that drama, and now, closing in on his last semester in school, he still has no idea what he’s truly going to do after.

It’s got to be a joke, at this point. There’s nothing to do but laugh, really. He knows he’s going to stay with Marinette, if she’ll let him, and she’s got a much more solid career plan laid out, so he’s just going to have to consult with her. At the very least, she can tell him what city he’s going to be looking for jobs in. Paris? It wouldn’t be so bad. Marinette’s friends are awesome, and it’d give Jon a good excuse to put the French he’s learning to actual use (though, if that’s the plan, he should practice with Marinette a lot more in the upcoming few months). His family will be far, yes, and it’ll be far easier for him to visit home than for everyone to visit him, but it will be pretty easy for him to visit.

Or maybe even Metropolis? Or New York? Maybe they can find another small apartment right next to the garment district. Hell, maybe they can just keep on staying in the apartment they’ve been renting for three and a half years already. (Well, Marinette won’t have FIT to work and store all her projects at, so they’ll have to get her a studio, or just a larger apartment, but they can figure that out.)

Whatever way, the question doesn’t weigh too heavily on him anymore. He’s not scared of it like nineteen-year-old Jon was. In fact, he’s excited. He can see the stars, every star, each one a possibility, but he’s narrowed down his search enough. He’s staring directly at Hercules, and once upon a time that might bother him, but not anymore. Because he’s comfortable now. He still can’t bear getting into a fight, he still has nightmares, his gut still turns at getting to close to heroism as he grew up knowing it, but… that’s not all there is to being a hero.

Hercules isn’t Perseus. The word “hero” doesn’t mean Superman, or Batman, or Wonderwoman, or any of the people who go out dispensing justice with their fists. Hero can mean anything to anyone. Marinette pulled him from a dark place, she gave him a home when he was so close to rejecting the one he had, when he was trying so hard to find one of his own. She stands with him, comforts him, reminds him to turn his light on when he’s studying on his computer after the sun goes down, brews a cup of tea for him when he needs it, or coffee if that’s what he needs instead (usually, she knows better than he does), nags him about the shoes he hasn’t forgotten to take off for a long time, makes dinner for him when his classes run later than hers so that he can focus on studying.

Marinette is, without a doubt, a hero. And even if neither of them are fond of the term, so much so that Jon will never speak it aloud, that doesn’t make the term any less apt. Jon only wishes he can find the words to tell her how ardently he loves her. Thanksgiving was a good attempt, but now that they’re together properly, especially because they’re together properly, he has to keep saying it.

(After all, he thinks, he already plans to spend his life with her, so… if they get married, he’s going to need his vows to be perfect, won’t he? But that’s thinking far too far ahead for now. No, now, he just needs to remind her how important she is.)

His most recent opportunity to do just that was when Thanksgiving came a second time. It’s a perfect time to fluster her the same way he (inadvertently) did back at last year’s Thanksgiving. It’s clumsy and inelegant, just like the first time, and he repeats a lot of what he said that time, too, but the effect it has on Marinette is just the same as well. And Jon just grins like a fool because he’s never been happier in his life. He doesn’t mess up this Thanksgiving starlight kiss. Not a chance.

Then the next semester starts, they’re back in their tiny apartment in New York, Marinette is giggling over a faux-leather jacket she makes for Conner that Jon admits works with his personality, and a pair of faux-leather pants for him that just leave him gawking at Marinette wondering if she wants him to strip in them or something. (He’s assuaged that it’s just a joke, though the thought lingers sinfully in his mind, and he’s entirely unsure how he feels about it. He does wear them, just once, because he loves her, though. She’s allowed a picture under strict confidence that Jon’s boys never ever see it, though he feels so awkward wearing them that he’s sure the picture isn’t great anyway.)

Of course, even though the pants are just a joke for Marinette’s giggles, the “gift” still starts another gift war (Motivated primarily by Jon knowing how much fabric costs. The pants aren’t real leather, thankfully, but that still can’t be a cheap joke. Jon begrudgingly adds them to his closet and wears them on rare occasions for that reason alone – they do look good, if not his usual style, especially as he slowly gets more comfortable in them – despite Marinette’s insistence that it’s unnecessary). Jon makes his grandma teach him to bake over the summer and holidays and he has recipes to shower Marinette with, so it’s a perfect opportunity to use them. This gift war eventually ends when the both of them decide they don’t want to get fat from eating baked treats all day every day. Even with them sharing with all their friends, they have a bit of a surplus. Their friends, needless to say, mourn the day this particular gift war ends.

That’s life, though, isn’t it?

Well into his final semester, Jon is frowning at the chessboard set up on their table, contemplating his next move, taking a sip of his tea (which Marinette gets him into – tea is great, actually), when his opponent says, “I am curious. Do you still believe the Girod to be an impossible ideal?”

Jon blinks at the kwami perched on the edge of the teacup on the other side of the table. Wayzz shoots him a knowing smile, which drops when Jon makes his move on the chessboard. “Yes.” Jon answers honestly. “Why?”

Wayzz hums a little, floating up higher to get a better view of the board. He moves his piece before he says, “I’m simply wondering. I never did ask; if you believe it’s impossible to achieve, why strive for it at all?”

Jon bites his lip, torn between the next chess move and his answer to the question. “Well…” Jon says, reaching for a piece but hesitating. “To me, it’s not so much that I need to… exemplify the Girod. Frankly, even if that is how people were on Krypton, I’m not a proper Kryptonian, anyway.”

“You do not feel a desire to keep Krypton’s culture alive?”

“…Not particularly.” Jon takes another sip of his tea and decides on his move. “I know I’m studying it, and it is interesting, but… I don’t know. Maybe Aunt Kara will be mad at me for saying this, but… it’s pretty much just academic to me. Despite all the powers and my heritage and all, I’ve never really had a connection to Krypton. It was destroyed before I was even born. There’s definitely value in learning about it, and I am into it as a subject for study, but I’m not going to change the way I live just because Kryptonians did something a different way. I’d never be happy just emulating history.”

“A thoughtful answer.” Wayzz says sagely. He takes his turn and returns to his own teacup to take a drink. “Then why bother with the Girod at all?”

“Because there’s value in it.” Jon says. “Even if I don’t believe it’s possible to be all those things at once, even if it’s impossible to be wholly virtuous, that doesn’t mean it’s not worth trying for, don’t you think? It… gave me direction when I needed it. Marinette helped, too, obviously, but it was something to hold on to.” Jon frowns at the board, reluctantly making his move. “Maybe I don’t need it anymore. Honestly, I can’t tell if it’s too soon or not to stop trying for it, but… the Girod gives me virtue outside of heroism. Used to be that I thought I had to be a hero, because Dad’s what’s good, and Dad taught me that being good means getting involved and helping anyone I can, and that because I have these powers, that means that I have to be a hero to be good.

“…Now that I’m thinking about it, I don’t think he really meant it that way.” Jon says. “But I was just a kid learning all that, so it was easy to confuse. The Girod was my… ethics guidelines that I can use without the need to run off and save the day all the time. Really, it was just an excuse so that I can stop calling myself a bad person for stopping hero work. But…”

Wayzz nods slowly. “There is value in it.”

“Yeah. Even if I’m not trying to live like a Kryptonian, I think there’s room in my life for truth, and justice, industriousness, peace, blah, blah, blah.” Jon waves a hand dismissively, chuckling just a little. “And hope. Hope is really important.”

“Hm.” Wayzz moves another piece. “Good thing Marinette is always carrying it around, then, yes?”

Jon’s mind immediately conjures the image of the delicate silver “S” hanging from Marinette’s neck. The symbol of hope, and also of his family. His cheeks warm, but he smiles and nods and sips his tea calmly despite that. “Yeah. It’s great.”

——-=——-

Tag List: @moonystars14 @pawsitivelymiraculous @magic-miraculous @vixen-uchiha @buticaaba @bigpicklebananatree @lozzybowe @moonlightstar64 @amayakans @theatreandcomicfreak @toodaloo-kangaroo @too0bsessedformyowngood @justcourttee​ <3

#miraculous ladybug fanfiction #ml fanfiction #ml x dc #maribat #marijon #ehhtrtd

[jj-lives]

Dragon Inktober Bmblb

Wow 2 days in a row!!

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As finals drew near there became less and less time for date nights, whether solo or their frequent double dates with Ruby and Weiss. And no matter how convincing Blake thought she was being, Yang refused to accept studying as a date.

“But Yang, Isn’t us spending time together the point of a date?”

“Yes, but studying is not spending time together.” Yang retorted, giving up on her Bio text for the moment. 

“But us reading in the apartment is?”

“That’s different!”

Blake scoffed amused. “How so?”

“Well-“ How was it different? “Because we are sharing something you love to do so I feel like that brings us closer.” Blake looked up from her text with a soft smile. “And no matter how much you tell me studying will benefit us in the long run, you will never convince me this is something you enjoy doing.”

“You’re right about that.” Sighing Blake closed her text and started packing up.

Excited at the turn of events Yang began haphazardly shoving her belongings into her bag as well.

“No, no no.” Blake put a hand on the text Yang was about to pack up. “You are not finished. Keep studying.”

“But-“

“I have to go see if I can catch my History Prof before she leaves campus. I’m having some trouble understanding how her notes say one thing but the text is telling us another.” Blake took a half step passed Yang but paused as the saddened expression Yang was giving off as she pulled her things back out. “You will survive studying. You don’t have to look so sad.”

“I’m not sad about studying.” She defended. “I just- You know what? Never mind.” Yang smiled up at her girlfriend. “I’m just being dumb. You better hurry to catch your Prof.”

“By now I would think you would be aware you can’t placate me with fake smiles.”

“I’m just,” she slumped to rest her forehead on the table. “Everyone is so busy studying I feel like I haven’t seen any of you in weeks.”

“Yang.” 

The soft pitying way Blake said her name unnerved her. She didn’t like being pitied. She was strong and independent and should be able to last the few weeks of finals without the others’ company.

“Like I said,” Yang spoke up stubbornly. “I’m just being dumb. You should get going. Should I wait here for you?”

Blake didn’t answer right away. And Yang knew she would be contemplating how to deal with her.  But right now Yang did need space to sort out her head.

“I’ll meet you at home. I have something I need to pick up at the store. Don’t stay here too late, okay?”

“I only have a few chapters to make it through before heading home. Shouldn’t take more than an hour or so.”

“Okay.” Blake placed a kiss to the top of Yang’s head before taking her leave. It pulled a smile from Yang at least.

She groaned loudly once Blake was out of earshot which garnered her a nasty look from a student at a nearby table. She waved sheepishly in apology before turning back to her text. 

She thought forced studying with Blake had been bad, studying without her was even worse. 

It had taken her longer that expected to get through the remaining chapters. She thought not having Blake around would have been less of a distraction. But the lack of noise from her flipping pages, or the little noises she made when she found what she was looking for through her notes were all things Yang became acutely aware she missed once they were absent. 

So almost three hours later she finally dragged herself into their apartment. Glancing at the whiteboard on the fridge she saw a note from Ruby.

‘Yang grilled cheese in fridge.’

Too tired to make anything else she grabbed the sandwich from the fridge and took a bite. It definitely would have been better warm but she really couldn't be bothered. She picked up the hanging marker and wrote a quick ‘Thanks’ under Ruby’s message before throwing her bag on the couch and making her way to the bathroom.

That’s what their interactions had become, notes on a whiteboard. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d seen Ruby. She was spending almost every waking moment with Weiss, studying. Yang knew she couldn’t be mad over Ruby’s absence; She was basically doing the same with Blake. She just missed her sister. She even missed Weiss, not that she would ever admit that out loud.  

She let the shower’s hot spray relax the tense muscles formed by being hunched over a table for hours. Feeling a little more relaxed as she exited the bathroom. Yang crept quietly into her room assuming Blake was already asleep.  Her assumptions were proved correct when she saw a still form on Blake’s side of the bed. Quickly and quietly she threw on a clean tank top and shorts to sleep in before gently sliding into bed beside Blake. The other shifted in the darkness when the bed dipped and Yang stared at the ceiling, trying to remain still as Blake fell back to sleep. 

What she missed most was Blake. Yang shifted to her side, facing her girlfriend’s back. If Yang was honest, she was lonely. But it sounded ridiculous in her head, she wasn’t about to voice it to anyone. How could she be lonely when Blake was right there, not even a foot away from her?

Closing her eyes, Yang told herself tomorrow would be better, even though she knew she was telling herself a lie. Her last exam may be the next day but Ruby, Weiss and even Blake still had a couple more weeks left.

“Ugh,” Yang breathed, sliding into her truck. “It’s over.”

The last exam wasn’t as hard as she thought it was going to be; she did have to give that credit to Blake though, it was the constant studying that had accomplished that. 

Tapping the steering wheel, she tried to figure out where to go. She could go back home, but she knew no one would be there. She’d woken up to an empty bed and empty apartment. Blake just left a note on the fridge wishing her good luck on her exam. She could try the library. Blake might be there studying, but without her own subjects to study Yang knew she would more than likely just be a distraction rather than a welcome surprise. 

Not knowing where to go and not wanting to go home Yang ended up driving aimlessly around Vale. She treated herself to a milkshake from the vendor in the park and spent some time trying to relax on a bench in a secluded part beneath some trees. When she had nowhere left to drive and no reason to keep her out she decided it was time to head home. 

She hadn’t expected Blake to be there, not until late, but she was pleasantly surprised to see her sitting on the couch.  

“How was the exam?” Blake asked, getting up to meet her at the door. 

“It wasn’t horrible.” Yang groaned which pulled a smile from the other. 

Blake wrapped her arms around Yang’s waist before leaning in for a kiss. Yang couldn't help but sink into her embrace. She knew Blake only meant it as a welcome home kiss, but Yang just missed her, a lot. And she didn’t seem to mind the slightly desperate way Yang’s lips moved against her own. 

When they pulled apart they were both breathing hard, but Yang kept a tight hold on Blake’s hips; she wasn’t ready to let go just yet.

“Thanks for making me study so hard.” She whispered, lips still millimeters apart. 

Blake’s entire body shivered and Yang revelled in the physical response she could pull from the girl in her arms. Blake initiated the second kiss as well, but this time the desperation seemed evenly matched. 

“Ugh,” Blake growled as they separated. She buried her face in Yang’s collar and sighed deeply. “When finals are over we are making time for us to be alone, deal?”

Yang laughed. “I would have made time during finals. You can prioritize better than me.”

“Oh?” Blake chuckled into her neck before pulling back to look Yang in the eyes. She placed a hand on Yang’s cheek and one more quick chaste kiss to her lips. “My willpower is finite, and it’s been crumbling pretty quickly the past few weeks.”

“Really?” Yang was surprised. It hadn’t looked like Blake was struggling at all.

“Yes, I miss you Yang. But I knew one of us needed to be strong. I didn’t want our relationship to be the reason you failed an exam.”

“I think I did better on these exams than the winter ones, thanks to you.”

“You are welcome. But as much as I have suffered and have to continue to suffer for a few more weeks, I know I’m dealing better with this than you, Yang. I’ve been used to solitude and being on my own. But you are the complete opposite.”

“I’m fine.”

“I know, but I got you something anyway.” Blake stepped back, a mischievous smile forming.

“You got me something?”

“Well us. I got us something.” She led Yang to their bedroom. “I needed something to both cheer you up and keep you occupied for the next few weeks while I focus on my own exams.”

“Should I be scared?”

Blake laughed.

“I hope not.”

Yang noticed there was a blanket covered box in the corner of the room which Blake made a beeline for. But when she removed the blanket it became apparent it was not a box at all. A metal crate that was housing a small black and white puppy.  

“You didn’t!” Yang squealed, dropping to her knees and hastily unfastening the hooks to open the door.  The previously sleeping puppy was quick to wake at the excited voice of someone new. “What’s its name?”

It had the colouring of a border collie, all black but with a white chest and legs but it didnt have the long hair a collie normally wore. Its tail had about half an inch of white tuft at the end and was as thick as a foxes. 

“I haven’t given him one yet.” Blake dropped beside Yang as she scooped the small bundle into her lap. “I thought we could name him together.”

"He's not a pure bred is he?" 

"No." Blake supplied even though it was quite obviously a mutt. " but with the way you took me in after my apartment and all, I didn't think you minded taking in strays."

Yang smiled. Was that what Blake was, a stray?

“Well if you were trying to distract me from missing you, you may have gone a little overboard. I may never need to give you attention again.” Yang lifted the pup up to Blake. “Look at that little face!”

The puppy kicked its hanging legs and stretched to give Blake a kiss before Yang pulled him out of reach. 

“Hey! Watch yourself mister. Blake’s my girl.”

“You were saying, about never needing to give me attention again?” Blake teased. “Looks like I have another admirer.”

“Of course you do.” Yang rolled her eyes. “Anyone would be stupid not to fall in love with you.” 

She turned the puppy to face her and it stopped trying to give kisses but it did turn its head and try to nip at Yang’s fingers holding it. 

“Hey, that’s rude!” 

She placed it down and laughed as it chased her hands around the carpet. When Yang’s reflexes were too fast for him, he became annoyed and growled at her. 

“He’s a little monster I think.” Yang thought for a moment. “Monster? No that’s not any good.”

“What did you just say?” Blake voiced softly.

“Monster, but that’s not a good name.”

“No.” Blake placed a hand on Yang’s arm, “before that.”

The colour drained from Yang’s face as she realized what she’d let slip. They hadn’t said those words yet and Yang was waiting for a romantic time to tell her. She thought after finals, when she could take Blake on a proper date. But she couldn’t really take the words back now, and laughing them away as a joke would be a lie.  

Yang grabbed the puppy and placed him back in her lap, smiling down at the terror before searching Blake’s face for any clues to how she was feeling.  

“I said anyone would be stupid not to fall in love with you.” Blake ducked her head as her cheeks turned red. “And I may be a dunce in many regards, but falling in love with you was the smartest thing I’ve ever done.”

“I love you too.” Blake said after some silent moments. 

“Well that’s a relief.” Yang joked, trying to relieve the tension.

Blake elbowed her. “Though why I do is still a mystery.” 

“What good is love without a little mystery?" Yang winked. "Speaking of, what are we going to name our little love child?” Yang asked as he curled up in her lap.

“Ew, don’t call him that.”

“Well then pick a name!” Yang laughed. “Or LC will stick.”

“Please no.”

“Well we could just name him by his last name for now until we decide. Xiao Long?”

“Why does he get your last name?” Blake asked as she reached to scratch the pup's ears. He lifted his head and nipped at her hand playfully. “You’ve already taught him the bad habit of nipping hands… he is definitely your son. Xiao Long it is.”

Yang chuckled. “I’ll unteach him. But how about Dragon?’

Blake pondered for a moment. 

“Drako means dragon in Latin.”

“Ooo, I like that.”  

“Drako Xiao Long it is.”

"His name can't be Small Dragon Dragon. So Drako Belladonna it will have to be."

"If you insist." 

#bumbleby #inktober #dragon #my writing #2 days in a row!