#opening the post and immediately forgetting what shit looks like and drawing from memory

[adhdvane]

once again i have the worst pen for drawing on my switch, literally taken from a dermatologist office skjdfls

#splatoon 3 #sammy liveblogs about spoon3 #art #opening the post and immediately forgetting what shit looks like and drawing from memory #i need to go back to drawing in photoshop or at least paint

[mxvladdy]

Lost Affections: Part 3

Ayyyyoooo. Here is the last part to @marymaryroo's request!

On to the next one :)

Magic is a beautiful and powerful thing. It permeates the Devildom like an eternal fog. For the residents, it is as common as breathing. From the strongest of their kind down to the lowest inhabitants, it is integral to their culture and daily life. Mistakes and accidents happen daily with young and old alike learning or experimenting. Magical rebounds and mishaps mean very little to them, especially the brothers. From the Celestial Realms down, they have seen it all.

Sometimes they forget that to you, magic can be a volatile and dangerous.

Beelzebub

Beel would never call himself accident-prone. He didn’t trip and stumble like Belphie when sleep deprived. He most certainly wasn’t as bad as Mammon when he was without his glasses or contacts. No, he would never say he was that bad. While not clumsy he knew he could be careless, especially when food was in the picture. He didn’t think twice about eating random things. It did hurt anyone, not physically. Sure, Luke and Satan got a little put out when he swiped something, but it didn’t hurt them.

He just forgets sometimes that you are different. You and he go together so well he forgets that you aren’t a demon. You don’t have the steel stomach or fast recovery time that he has. You make up for it. When you go out to eat you always research the place ahead of time. Does the place have non-enchanted food? Human grade options? If not, you make sure that Beel has his fill before taking him somewhere more appropriate for your stomach. Neither of you thinks about residual contaminants.

His life with you unravels with kisses. It is a slow, inconspicuous death. It builds over time with each brush of his lips to yours. Neither of you notices the taste of magic clinging to his mouth or tongue, neither of you thinks of the implications of all the weird potions and food he samples.

It starts small, you forget simple things about him. When his club activities ended, or what his favorite post-game drink was. He brushes it off, it’s trivial really. You are busy and these things can happen to the best of them. He keeps brushing off the nagging worry until he can’t.

It comes to a head one night at the door to your room. “Beel?” You yawn, pulling your robes closer around you. “What’s up?” You glance down at the box of snacks and pillows in his hands. “Did I miss something?”

“It’s date night.”

Your brows shoot up, facing heating. “What.” You sputter. Beel frowns, placing the box at his feet. With slow movements, he places his hand on your forehead. You were a little warm.

“Mmmmm.” His hearts flutter with nerves. Was his little human sick? He ignores the way you stiffen when he touches you. “Do you need a doctor?” He asks bending down to look you in the eye. He catches a whiff of something when you exhale. It is faint but clings to your breath, it’s sickly sweet and sharp to his nostrils. “You need a doctor.”

Without a second thought, he grabs your arm and drags you out of your room. His food forgotten in the hallway with your protests buzzing in his ears. “Beel...Beel!” You stumble after him. He ignores you each step he takes determined and picks up speed. Before you know it you are sitting next to Gluttony in Purgatory waiting for Solomon, beyond confused and anxious.

You fidget on the couch, peeking glances at the troubled look on the red-heads face. This wasn’t like him. He was a man of few words, sure, but this was new. Beel left you to your devices mostly, a few polite conversations here and there, but you two never hung out a lot. You zone out when he starts talking to Solomon. You were still half asleep from Beel waking you up. You had been sleeping so soundly beforehand. “Are you alright?” You jerk awake unaware that you started dozing again. Solomon crouches in front of you.

“I think so?” You had no idea what this was about. “I’m just tired.” The mage says nothing to you, instead turning to glance at Beel. He jerks his head to the door, a clear signal for the old demon to wait outside.

With one last pitiful glance, Beelzebub leaves the two humans to converse. “Now then.” Solomon rounds his piercing eyes back to you. “Tell me how's your stay in the Devildom?”

You tell him confused but willing to play along with his odd request, the sooner you wrap this up the sooner you can go back to bed. An odd feeling of missing something begins to grow as you tell him. Soon you began to fumble, the harder you try to recount something the harder it was to collect. You still were convinced anything was seriously wrong but the growing look of concern on Solomon’s face was making you think otherwise. “So,” You finish rubbing your knees with sweaty palms. “I’m I dying or something?”

He laughs dismissing the notion with a wave of a well-manicured hand. “No, no your soul is still firmly in place.” He rubs his chin. “But you have lost your memory, only when it comes to Beelzebub though. It is very peculiar. Have you ingested anything weird of late? Done any experiments with Satan?” You shake your head. To the best of your knowledge, you have been really careful with your food intake while down here. Devildom foods were delicious but had potential side effects for you and Solomon.

Solomon nods. He figured that. “Could I draw some blood? It sounds to me like you might have trace contamination of some kind. Diavolo and I discussed that this might happen but I wish to double-check.” Well, that’s worrisome, you nod and begin to roll up your sleeve. Solomon bustles collecting a few vials and a mouth swab for extra measure.

“Thank you.” He smiles looking at the samples with scientific glee. “I will let you know what I find. Until then, I guess just go about your regular day. Unless you feel ill, in that case, come to me immediately.” With that, he leaves you depositing you back with Beel.

The walk back to the House was more subdued, both of you were confused as to what to do next. “So,” You flounder. “We were-are an item?”

He shrugs looking down at you. “Yes. We’d hang out in your room on Saturdays, and get brunch on Sundays... do you still want to?”

You shrug feeling awkward. You felt nothing but platonic friendship to the large demon, though Solomon did fill you in on what you apparently have forgotten. “If you want to? I’m up now, and too nervous to sleep.” Beel grunts clenching his fists at his side.

“No,” He shakes his head. “You should rest, even if you can’t sleep. This is overwhelming. I’ll see you at breakfast tomorrow?” You feel bad. He sounds so hopeful when he asks, like a good night’s sleep was all you needed to fix whatever this was.

You reach for his big hand and squeeze it. “Sure, Beelzebub. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He lets you go watching you head back into the house. Running on instinct he turns and heads into the dense forest surrounding the house. He needed to hunt for a bit.

That’s how his twin finds him, gorging himself on the fauna of the forest. Belphie’s socked feet pad loudly over the dried grass and scattered bones of the once lush lowlands. “You know Lucifer is going to be pissed. It takes forever for the wildlife to come back after one of your benders.” He tosses his oversized pillow onto the dead grass and lays down. Belphie doses for a moment, the sound of his brother’s many mouths and whistling of wings a white noise to him. Up until an obnoxious locus landed on his nose.

“Beel.” He flicks the bug off his face, shooting the swarm coating his brother’s skin a sour look. “What’s going on?”

Forgot. Me. One of his mouths rattles out, flecks of meat and vegetation falling from between crooked and jagged teeth. Another opens near his rib cage to speak. They. Don’t. Love. Me.

“I’ll kill them.” Already Belphie is back on his feet. He feels for his brother and his plight, but the thought that you betrayed him after you promised to never hurt Beel took precedence. The storm of bugs goes quiet, all the millions of eyes now turn to him. They jerk and twitch in unison before converging back on the mass of leathery gaunt skin of his brother. His human form takes shape slowly, shiny wings and many mandibled skulls melding together to create his flesh.

Beel grabs Belphie’s shoulders. His claws dig into the soft fabric of his nightshirt. “It’s not their fault.”

“Then who?” Beel chuckles weakly at his brother’s blood lust. He couldn’t deny that he felt it too, but he had no idea where to channel this anger.

So he ate. It calmed him a little. If he could get into the village and eat there...no. The last time he siphoned the emotions from the populous at large Lucifer got mad. The whole of the Devildom had to shut down for a good week to recover. He rubs his stomach a feeling of agitation growing in the pits of them. “Don’t know. Solomon is taking a look at it.” Belphie snorts a sneer growing on his lips. “He is helping, Belphie.”

“Sure-right. That boy meddles in all shorts of shit he shouldn’t. Careful he doesn’t try to bargain with your skin for this.” He eyes where your mark rests on his brother. It would be a perfect lure to entrap his twin in a pact.

Hmm.

No, none of this would do. Belphegor would rather die than let some human-like Solomon meddle anymore in his family’s affairs, and as far as he was concerned the moment you started seeing Beel you were as another sibling. “Come on. Let’s get you back to the house. I’ll bring dinner up to our room.”

After settling Beel under the covers of his massive bed Belphie went on the hunt for more food in the kitchen. He stops by your bedroom door picking up the box of goodies still left in front of it. He piles more things into the box when he reaches the kitchen. Swiping up snacks at random Belphie piles the box sky high. His hand stops over a few of your favorite human snacks. Should he? Honestly, it was a blind shot in the dark if it would comfort his brother or not. After a bit more debate Belphie puts the chocolates back, a different idea already turning in his head.

Back in their shared room, he listens to his brother run down the last week between huge bits of sweets. As he recounts every little thing that has gone down they both began to notice just how strange you have been. Both twins sit in the aftermath of Beel’s words, a wasteland of wrapper and silence stretching between them. “Think it will come back?” The twins lock eyes, Beel’s large and unsure but simmering with foolish hope.

“Possibly.” Belphie grits out, breaking their eye contact. He could never lie to his brother, at least not to his face. “Get some rest. I’m sure someone will have a plan in motion by tomorrow.” He’ll set his plans in motion tonight.

Lying in wait some hours later Belphie listens through the walls of the massive house for your quick little human heartbeat in your bedroom. He matches his shallow breaths with yours feeling yourself slip into slumber and his realm. Once you are completely under he drifts off himself.

He enters your dreams and scowls unused to stumbling inside of a dreamscape. Your dreams are muddled and clotted with stick webs of confusion and hazy memories. Odd bits and pieces of images drip around the edges of your mind. This place was a disgusting mess. With a deep sigh, Belphie begins trudging through the quagmire.

He peers around making note of the black holes in your mind like canvas ripped from their frames. Rotten magic assaults him from all sides. Stopping in front of a particularly deep gash in your mind he rolls up his oversized sleeves finding what he was looking for. He knew this memory was in it, just on the outskirts of the scene playing out. He could knit this rip back together easily, after that it should give him some clarity on the others he couldn’t place.

This was going to take a lot of energy. No one would notice if he stole some energy to get things started. Belphie smiles to himself already tapping into Lucifer's dreamscape, taking a bit more than he needed. You deserve only the best after all.

__________________

“Morning everyone.” You chirp plopping down in your chair. The brothers reply with groggy acknowledgments, completely unlike themselves. You look around at the bunch. “Are you all ok?” The group grunts collectively yawning or rubbing their weary eyes.

“Tough night.” Lucifer looks up from his newspaper. He was half-dead in his chair, a cup of coffee shaking in his hands. Asmo sits beside him looking on the verge of tears as he gently pokes his swollen cheeks and eyelids. The only two that seem to even be remotely coherent were the twins. The youngest of the two sleeping oblivious to the turmoil of his siblings while his brother stares at your every move. “Good morning Beel.” You nod feeling awkward in this shared space.

“Morning.” He smiles at you, a few crumbs clinging to the corner of his mouth. Something ticks in the back of your mind at his look. A foggy image comes to mind. It feels like a dream, but so real at the same time. It makes you nauseous, a weird sense of dejavu fighting its way to the forefront. “You ok?” He puts a hand on your shoulder.

You blink noticing the room at large turning their gaze to you. You nod, reaching across from him for some leftover food. The moment a bowl of cereal was in your hands Asmo swept you up in a conversation about his “fading” looks. You don’t think of Beel and your predicament for the rest of the day, not until Solomon invites you over to his hall for tea.

“You were poisoned.” He states simply over his sorry excuse of scones. You pause in the middle of trying to break a piece off on the table.

“I’m sorry?”

“Nothing to apologize for, unless you did it intentionally.” He laughs. “It appears to be through slow ingestion over a long period of time. The levels in your blood are staggering but not lethal. It looks like the magic took root in the temporal lobe-much like a tumor, really quite fascinating- and has been eating away at the memories of the person, or in this case, a demon that poisoned you.” Beel had been poisoning you? Solomon waves his hand at your look of concern. “I am quite positive that it was not intentional. Mind you he does find the most wondrous things to shovel down his gullet. The fact that it mixed perfectly into a potion instead of a lethal toxic is sheer dumb luck on your end.” You breathe a sigh of relief finally tossing the baked good away as a bad job. Well that's...something. At least you’d be alive to stumble around your apparent “forgotten boyfriend”.

“Any chance of fixing this?”

Solomon shrugs. “Possibly? I need more time to figure out exactly what components are involved in your test results. Then making a tonic to undo all the magic is another thing entirely.”He discusses a few other options with you for a few hours, going over in great detail the ins and outs of potion-making. Soon the windows of the sunroom grew dark, the glow of the lamps outside growing brighter so you could see the pathway back to the house.

“I better head back.” You stretch looking out into the pitch outside. Hmmm, if you remember correctly Levi should be off of work by now. He said to call when he was done to come to pick you up. As if on cue a sharp knock on the door disrupts you. Instead of a shock of blue hair, you are greeted with orange. “Oh-hey Beel.”

“Hey.” The corner of his mouth twitches in a facsimile of a friendly smile. “Ready to go?” He picks up your forgotten school bag and takes your sweater from the coat rack. With a well-practiced motion, he slings the bag over his shoulder and holds your sweater open for you. He obviously did this a lot before…

You stare back wide-eyed at Solomon who only smirks, nodding at you to hurry up.

Out the door and into the chilly night you sneak a peek at Beelzebub walking quietly beside you. He catches your look and raises a brow. “Sorry.” You feel your cheeks heat a little under his thoughtful gaze.

“About?”

“All of this.” You wave at yourself. “Please don’t feel obligated to hang out with me. Until we can get this settled. I don’t want to hurt your feelings.”

Beel grunts, stopping in his tracks by a low garden wall. “I was hurt-am still hurting.” He admits. “But this isn’t your fault, so what good does it do to blame you for it? Even if you don’t remember me as your partner, you still remember me as a friend...right?” A warm smile spreads across his face when you nod. “Then I’m ok with this. I haven’t lost you completely and even if you don’t ever feel the same way about me anymore, I think I will be ok.”

“I- thank you Beel. That means a lot.”

“Of course.” He hums. “Let’s head back. I think Asmo left some food out.”

You dream of Beel again, a weird amalgamation of scenes all tossed together in a great pile with you in the middle of it. You could do nothing but watch like a film as they rush by you in a blur. Some scenes didn’t line up right, bouncing around like a scratched vinyl, but it still made sense in a way only a dream could. You play out each dream like an actor, the script coming to you naturally with each little venette. You sit outside his locker room, a basket of food and drink in your lap, your heart fluttering in your chest. You and Beel were watching his brothers on the beach, his broad hands rubbing sunscreen into your skin. Beel walking you back to your room after a long night in the library holding your hand in his strong, sure grip. Saturday afternoons spent hopping from one cafe to the next sampling the sweets and drinks to both of your heart's content.

It grips your heart but slips away with the rise of the young morning moon.

When morning comes the night is nothing more than a few smudges in your mindscape. Yet, a light, sweet feeling stays with you. You found yourself smiling more around the redhead and gravitating to him during the day. He accepts you back with a friendly hug and a friendly ear.

He treats you no differently than you remember. It’s nice. Even if a part of your yearns to see how he treated you when you were more than friends.

You begin to get excited for when your head hits your pillow. The dreams become clearer and clearer each night. Some new pieces show up and fall into place as the weeks progress. You start seeing bits of your dreams in the day too. After-images of you hand in hand with him walking down the other side of the street. The taste of something sweet on your tongue or a familiar scent in your nose.

After one particularly vivid dream, you wake determined not to let the contents of this dream slip through your fingers. This time you dreamt of the kitchen, dirty bowls, and units scattered about the cluttered counters. You had been baking something, and failing miserably.

Sneaking down to the kitchens you pull out all the things you could remember. For some reason, this dream lit a fire in you, like it was the last piece of the puzzle to getting it all back. You don’t think, instead, you just let your body take control. You baked a cake.

Well, it was supposed to be a cake. The center was too spongy and collapsed inward while the sides were dark and cracked. The icing was badly blended and melting from the still-warm pastry. It was almost exactly like the one from your dream.

You stare at it waiting for some great revelation, but nothing comes. Great. Now what?

“I smell food.”

“Gods!” You jerk smacking your knee on your bar stool. Beel’s deep voice scaring you half to death. “Should put a bell on you.” You grin. Beel peeks his head through the door brows furrowed.

“This is familiar.” He walks in pulling up another chair to sit next to you.

“Ye?” You look back at him.

“Yes. This was our first kiss.” You drop your icing spoon. “You wanted to surprise me before a big game.” He put a finger through the thick black and purple icing and pops it in his mouth. “Ah- You forgot the bane extract...I had thought that perhaps you remembered.” The hope in his voice stung your chest.

Oh. You look down at the mess you made, whatever feelings of satisfaction are lost. “I thought I was forgetting something, but my dreams are all blurry.”

“Dreams?” Beel pauses reaching for a slice. “You dreamt of this?”

“Yes. Been dreaming about you a lot of late.” You flush. “Little things that are starting to build a bigger picture. I just had this dream of a cake and the urge to make one...so- here we are.” You wave your hand out over the messy kitchen. Sighing plopping your chin down on your palm. “Guess I can sleep on it a bit more huh?” You shoot him a quick wink and sad smile.

“Or just ask Belphie.” He shrugs, taking another large slice of the disaster. “Sounds like he’s been meddling.” That realization hits you like a ton of bricks. Damn, you could have slapped yourself. “I’m sure he meant well, but he shouldn’t force you if you don’t want to. I could tell him to stop.”

What! No! You shake your head. “No. I-I don’t mind it. Solomon has yet to figure anything out, and whatever your brother is doing seems to be helping a little.” Beelzebub said nothing to that and just continued to eat while you started the dishes.

“Do you want to end tonight like we did before?” He asks sometime later, half of the dishes now drip drying in the rack. His long arms box you in on either side holding on to the lip of the sink. His head dips low, his chin resting on the top of your head. Deep down you knew that you could leave at any time. His grip was loose and easily breakable, considerate as ever to your comforts.

You turn to face him, a soft look crosses his face. “And how did it end?” He grins moving closer. You would have to thank Belphie for his interference. Just, perhaps later. You doubted he would want to be in your dreams tonight.

#obey me fan fic #obey me beel x mc #obey me beelzebub #fan fic requests #obey me fandom #obey me

[shoichee]

Hello! Can I perhaps ask for no. 28. “Make me” from your prompt list for my beloved Imayoshi? It's so nice seeing him here on your theme and avatar and that pERFECT url, it feels like I finally found my people.

HELLO HELLO, and YES I WAS SO SURPRISED THAT NO ONE TOOK THIS URL... considering that it was just an alternative spelling of shoichi and its a rlly short handle too mwehe // im sort of a particular person when it comes to how something looks, whether itd be outfits, drawings, coloring, and the UI of a blog, u name it.... i may have spent hours trying to have the perfect colors for this theme PLEASEEEE, but without further ado here is our man, our little shit, Imayoshi

@knb-kreations howdy! another new work posted here!

Imayoshi x Reader

28. “Make me”

Word Count: 2331

prompt list here

»»—————　☼　—————««

Imayoshi doesn’t exactly know how he feels about you.

Scratch that, he does know. He’s quite amused at the shenanigans you pull on others around you, and a lot of times, you actually elicit a few dry laughs out of the guy. Other times though, he’d wish that you would just shut the fuck up, especially when all he hears amidst his studying was your loud “whispering” and “hushed” jokes. How you were always nearby no matter where he is was still a mystery that he casually ponders about from time to time. Perhaps your natural tendency to project your voice creates the illusion that you were near when you really weren’t?

No matter, such trivial thoughts can’t occupy his mind when college entrance exams loom closer. Then again, they weren’t particularly difficult; they were simply a hassle to secure near-perfect scores, especially when his chances of admittance rely critically on how well he does.

“That’s an awful drawing of a samurai,” Susa comments, snapping Imayoshi out of idle thought.

“Ho? Is it really terrible if you were able to tell what it is?” Imayoshi chuckles. “The point of a drawing is to convey the right idea or emotion. It seems that my drawing skills hit a bulls-eye with this sketch, no?” He playfully spins his pencil around, patiently waiting for his reply to goad him.

All Susa does in response is to roll his eyes before he turns his full attention back to his notes. He knows better than to try a comeback against Imayoshi, who can easily make it backfire against the person with a pleasant close-eyed smile. Imayoshi, seeing Susa’s nonverbal resign from engaging further banter, also looks down back to his book of scribbled notes and chicken-scratch drawings before he exhales an inaudible sigh.

School just doesn’t cut out to be mentally stimulating for him. It’s a little too repetitive and mundane for his taste.

“Argh!! Oh no!” your voice rang out, despite your poor attempt to be reasonably quiet. “I forgot applications for the Coca-Cola scholarship are due today!”

Coca-Cola… what?

Everyone looks up to warily eye you, and your few friends, who are currently rushing to pull you down and slap their hands over your mouth to mute you, were panicking at the new attention you managed to garner. Even still, your mind seems more fixated on whatever was on the laptop’s screen, rather than what they were doing to you.

Imayoshi can’t help but stifle his audible mirth from how you manage to change the mood of the entire library within seconds.

“How do you even forget something as important as a huge scholarship like that?” Susa says in dismay. “Makes me kind of wonder how (l/n) would handle life after graduation, to be honest.”

“Well,” Imayoshi begins. “I wouldn’t worry too much. It’s best not to underestimate (l/n)-san. Surely we’ve learned our lesson with Seirin?” He toys with the pencil grip before he sporadically draws some lines loosely resembling another sketch.

“Drawing again?” Susa raises a brow. “Have you even been studying?”

“Well,” he replies. “There’s still plenty of time before exams—months to be exact. Could you even study with the current distractions in here?” At his own words, he nudges his chin in your direction.

“It’s not just any exams though, it’s—”

“Whether they have more importance or not doesn’t really concern me. After all, standardized testing isn’t worth stressing out for when we’ve taken essentially the same thing all our lives.”

“What most are worried about is the content inside the exams, Imayoshi,” he said, carefully treading into dangerous waters with Imayoshi’s tendency to take all replies as mind-game challenges for his own amusement.

“‘If you have been paying attention consistently throughout the year, you wouldn’t be having much trouble…’ that’s what you once oh-so-wisely said to Wakamatsu yesterday, hmm?” His mimicking tone drips a hint of arrogance. “Unless you mean to tell me my ears do not work? But by all means, please feel free to correct me.”

“That’s different,” he sighed, his face clearly evident that he was done with Imayoshi’s shit. “That exam only tested content for the past year, not your entire academic repertoire over the courses of middle and high school.”

“I’d like to think that the logic still applies the same way.”

“Well,” Susa heaves with a languid stretch. “You generally score better on the exams than me, so you’re probably right. Still, don’t neglect your studying.”

“Right, right, Susa-senpai~”

“... Please don’t call me that again.”

“... If you say so,” he said, but his smile blatantly showed his real intentions of never stopping his irritable quips. Susa gets ready to pack up his book bag before he heads out the door with a friendly wave. Imayoshi half-heartedly returns the gesture with a casual wave of his own. He immediately notices you also packed up and about to leave with a worried frown, and of course, while audibly mumbling your concerns and makeshift schedules to accommodate time for last-minute essay writing. By now, all of your friends have left for home.

“Ah, biology lab due next week, kanji worksheets due tomorrow, hmm, um, how would I finish this on time… ah, calculus test is tomorrow too, ah shit… should I ask someone to tutor?—ah, but it’s super last minute, and there’s still that scholarship… argh, fuck!” Your voice peaked in volume at the end, and the librarian immediately shot daggers at you.

“Shhhhh!”

“A-Ah! S-Sorry, sorry!”

Imayoshi was watching you with his chin on his arm propped up on the desk, unable to control the smile that escaped his lips. You really were entertaining to watch, and you never cease to bore him.

He turns away to crack his neck and roll it around before methodically packing up his writing utensils and notebooks. Soft shuffling filled the air as he rearranged the items inside his bag. As he turns to pack the last thing on the table, which happened to be the notebook filled with his idle doodling, his face slightly softens at the drawing he did after the samurai. Yes, the one Susa chastised him for when he could’ve been studying. Yes, perhaps he was right when he was terrible at drawing after all; your panicked face and wild hand gestures didn’t really translate well into paper, and it looked a little too much like a horror comic and less than a sketch of you. Still, he’s oddly proud of it.

Imayoshi promptly pushes the chair in and leaves the library, but when he rounds the corner of the adjacent hallway, he bumps into you.

“Er—hi! I mean, please, uhhh… if it isn’t too much to ask—canyoupleasetutormeforthecalculustesttomorrowbecausemyfinalgradedependsonthat?”

Imayoshi winces at the sheer volume of your voice and plugs his ears in out of habit to block out some of the decibels. Wakamatsu was eerily similar to you in that regard. Only difference between the two of you was that you were deceptively intelligent. Extremely so.

“My, my, if it isn’t (l/n)-senpai!” He fakes a surprised look, earning him an eye roll on your end. “You need someone like me to teach you the works?”

“I—what? We’re literally in the same calc class, Imayoshi,” you retort. “Besides, drop the ‘senpai’ honorific. It feels so slimy when you say it so disingenuously… Aren’t we both 3rd years too?”

“I’m so hurt,” he mocks. “What if I was really genuine with you?”

“Look, right now, no remarks from you, Evil Glasses,” you say. “It’s really, really urgent and I don’t know how to grasp the material for the class lately, plus my essay, ugh…” You rub your fingers against your temples in an attempt to make the stressful headaches disappear while Imayoshi simply watches with his eyes slightly open.

“... You usually do well on all your exams, no? Unless my eyes and memory fail me.” It was true; even though you were as loud-mouthed as Wakamatsu, you would often shock a lot of people when your name always appeared in the higher percentiles of exam results. Apparently most students and teachers associate your rowdy personality with an expected subpar academic performance. He has you to thank for when your score reports always cause reactions of utter disbelief from the teachers. You really do liven up the school and make it a lot more unorthodox.

“I guess…” you mumble. “But I really wanna do especially well for this one because math is my weakest subject, and you always score the highest for these types of exams, so…”

“It may be my best subject,” he says, leaning slightly closer to your face. “But I’m not the one with the highest scores in any math subjects throughout these years, and we both know that quite well, don’t we, (l/n)? Why don’t you come clean about the real reason why you’re here?”

“Oh my literal fuck—Imayoshi, you’re one of the best students in calc right now regardless of exam results,” you petulantly huffed, not backing down from his intimidation. Imayoshi notes your cheeks reddening, and he figured it was either because of the close proximity between your faces or the fact you were frustrated… perhaps both. “And you’re the only one around here on campus who I could ask!”

“Really now,” he chimes, moving closer to whisper in your ear. “Are you sure?” With incoherent stammers, you backed away from him, slapping your hands against both of your ears to protect them.

“W-W-What the fuck are you doing?!”

“Looks like I won this one, (l/n)-san,” he purrs, relishing the fact that only he could render you this quiet. “Ho? What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?”

“I—Shut up!” you lamely shoot back. “You can just say no if you really don’t wanna do this—urgh, I’m leaving, I’m not gonna waste any more time—”

“How hurtful,” he dryly remarks, standing up straight again after leaning for a quite a while. “It’s almost as if you’re rejecting me~” He knew you would always take his bait and quip back (unlike Susa), regardless of whether or not you tell him that you weren’t going to engage further.

“As if,” you snorted, making another exaggerated eye roll. “You’re the last person who would ever be hurt from this.”

“Dear me!” he exclaims. “Have you ever considered that perhaps I don’t help out people for free? Did you think I would be a gracious, selfless person who would help you like a saint?”

“Okay, fine! Perhaps I didn’t think that far ahead, okay? You just were the first person that came to mind, and I thought asking you wouldn’t hurt.” His smirk widens almost maliciously at your words, lips already opening to deliver another irritating quip before you immediately spoke again to stop him. “Okay, Imayoshi, you little shit, just shut up—I don’t wanna hear anything from your mouth right now.”

“I don’t see any reason why I should listen to you at all,” he muses. “Why don’t you make me?” He has a shit-eating grin plastered across his face, eagerly eyeing your next move, and as he expected, you let out a frustrated noise that prompted passerby students to shoot pointed looks towards the both of you.

What he didn’t expect was for you to take a huge step towards him, unceremoniously pull him down to your level, and press a reverberating smack on his lips. His eyes are immediately blown wide open to look at your embarrassed, but determined face. His fingers unconsciously move to touch his warmed lips.

“... That was quite romantic, wasn’t it, (l/n)?” he dryly says, recovering almost immediately from the shock. All the other students fled from the blatantly bold scene to save face. Not that Imayoshi really cared.

“Okay, you know what? Bye, I’m not gonna play anymore mind games with you,” you grumble. “Essays and studying aren’t gonna be done by themselves—wah!”

Imayoshi gently tugs you back to reciprocate back a kiss, meticulously slipping his hands behind your head and on your waist to accommodate you. Your eyes are completely open from the shock that the Imayoshi Shoichi was actually kissing you. You don’t close your eyes from the sensation, completely entranced when you make eye contact with his half-lidded eyes watching your every reaction closely. The kiss ended all too soon, and Imayoshi separates himself from you, secretly admiring your dazed look.

“That was quite a strong reaction to just a simple kiss.”

“I—that was not just a ‘simple kiss!’”

“Now would you like to tell me the true reason why you approached me?”

“You’re… insinuating that you know something.”

“Well we wouldn’t know unless you come clean,” Imayoshi purrs. “I can sometimes be wrong too.”

“Ugh, what the hell—fine, I am quite enamored by you, and uh, I… find it infuriating to be with you, but it also gives me butterflies… so I thought I could be with you more… if I asked you—don’t get it twisted, though! I still need your help to study!...” He covers his mouth to suppress a laugh at your honesty.

“Was it really so hard to say that in the beginning, (l/n)-san?”

“Okay, that’s it! I’m really, really leaving! Fuck off, Imayoshi, I swear to—”

“Ho? Just a minute, darling~” he tuts, reaching to hold your hand. “Perhaps if you offer more kisses as an incentive, I’d be more inclined to offer my expertise.”

“How quaint,” you dryly reply. “It’s almost as if we’re in a relationship.”

Imayoshi can’t help but bark out a genuine laugh. You even managed to pick up some of his mannerisms so quickly.

“That’s an interesting proposal, (l/n),” he murmurs. “Should we try that?” You tut at him irritatedly as you tug your interlocked hands while speed-walking ahead.

“Hurry up, or I’ll consider breaking up with you right now.”

“Ah ha!~” he chuckles at your attitude. “How mean, (l/n)-san! Too bad that we both know that’s not going to happen anytime soon.”

#ask #narnvaeron #knb #knb scenarios #kuroko no basket #imayoshi shouichi #imayoshi shoichi #imayoshi x reader #imayoshi #knb fic #knb fluff #100 followers #100 follower milestone

[joonie-beanie]

Wet Dreams

Pairing: Belphegor x Reader

Word Count: 3,564

Preview: Basically, the 4th night of "Good Night Devil", but if you ended up alone with Belphie instead. Seriously...his brothers are idiots to trust him. He's just as horny as the rest of them. Especially for you.

“Do you want me to fuck you? Do you like that I’m toying with you while you’re asleep?”

“Yes. A lot."

WARNING: This chapter focuses on Sonmophilia. If you are not comfortable with this, or the idea of con-noncon/dubcon, please do not read.

** Please note that this is a cross-posting **

This chapter was originally posted on 2/14/20 as a part of my “Devil Doms” series on AO3.

Belphegor finds himself staring at you as you sleep.

For the first time in 3 nights, you’re actually resting—curled up in the middle of your spacious bed, breathing softly. Thanks to Lucifer’s ongoing “sleep experiment”, tonight Belphie has been instructed to stay in your room with you.

Originally, he had been paired with Satan, but after Satan had teased the eldest brother with a remark on how “Belphie being around won’t stop me from doing what I want”, Lucifer had taken it upon himself to keep you protected while rooming with the Avatar of Wrath.

So now, on the final and fourth day, Belphegor finds himself alone with you.

Honestly, he’s a bit offended that Lucifer had paired just the two of you together. Does his older brother not think he’ll try anything? He likes you just as much as the others, he just…doesn’t show you as much affection as Beel, or Mammon (even though the second oldest will definitely deny that he does at all).

Sighing, Belphegor runs a hand through his messy hair, his eyes refocusing on your sleeping form once more. You really do look cute like that…

At that moment, you shift in your sleep—the covers around you sliding down your torso as you flip to your other side. Immediately, Belphegor’s gaze focuses in on your squished-together cleavage, and his cheeks redden. Why do you have to sleep in only a tank top and shorts? Shouldn’t you be a little more careful around him and his brothers?

After all, it’s not like they don’t have desires…

His eyes rake over your soft skin—settling on the curve of your neck, as he imagines how pretty you’d look covered in hickies. A dull ache settles in his gut, and while he knows he should stop, he continues to let his mind wander.

He imagines your breasts in his hands, and the quiet little sounds you’d make as he touched you—unable to help yourself. He’s sure your skin is soft, and he wants to caress every inch of it, until he knows of each mole, scar, or otherwise.

Shit, he thinks to himself, hand moving down to palm at his crotch. He’s hard thanks to his roaming imagination, but…as much as he wants to touch you, that would be wrong, right?

His thoughts return to last week, when he’d accidentally run into you at the junction of two hallways. He’d ended up on top of you—one of his hands firmly planted on your breast, and his knee pressed up against your pelvis. You’d both immediately flushed red once realizing the position you were in, and Belphegor had stumbled off you—stuttering apologies.

“It’s okay,” you’d told him, attempting to laugh it off. “No worries, Belphie. I know that you didn’t mean to touch me in that way, but…I’d trust you anyway.”

Your words had weighed heavy in his mind following that day. You’d reassured him that it’d be okay if he touched you, even though he hadn’t meant to in that moment. Did that mean you wanted him to touch you like that?

The Avatar of Sloth swallows harshly, his hand reaching down to grab the edge of your covers. Slowly, he peels them down your sleeping form—not too surprised that you don’t awake. Beel had informed him that during the time he and you had roomed together, he’d picked up on your sleeping habits—one being that once you got to sleep, it was very hard to wake you during the first few hours.

Belphegor hates that he gets aroused at the idea of touching you while you’re unaware. But…it would be so easy. To just slip your tank top down your shoulders…listening to you quietly moan as he sucks on your tits—his fingers finding their way beneath your shorts…

Before he can think twice, he finds himself lowering onto the bed beside you. Gently, he grips your shoulder and rolls you onto your back, releasing a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding when you don’t stir.

If he were a human, surely he’d be going to hell for this, but since he’s already here…

Reaching out, he cups your breast though your shirt—the flesh squishing beneath his fingertips. He feels your nipple harden—pressing up against the flat of his palm—and a quiet chuckle sneaks past his lips. Even in your sleep, your body can’t deny it’s desires, huh?

Gaining a little courage, the Avatar of Sloth slips the straps of your tank top off of your shoulders—additional inches of skin becoming exposed to his hungry eyes. And despite wanting to rip your shirt off of you—Belphie works slowly—peeling the fabric down inch by inch until finally, your breasts are fully accessible.

Immediately, he leans over—flattening his tongue against one of your nipples and giving an experimental lick. At the sensation, your breathing hitches slightly, but you don’t awaken. He grins, hand reaching out to claim the other mound as his mouth continues working at the present one.

Despite being asleep, it’s clear that your body has sensed a change. Quiet whines begin to build in your throat—eyebrows furrowing on your forehead. However, the sounds only urge Belphie to proceed.

His tongue continues swirling around your taut nipple—teeth gently nipping at the bud on occasion, and the whines that leave you in response has the Avatar of Sloth’s cock straining against his underwear. Without ceasing, his eyes drag down your torso, pausing at the crotch of your shorts. He can see your thighs clenching ever so slightly.

I wonder, he thinks to himself, his hand releasing your breast. His fingers sneak beneath the hem of your shorts—oh-so-very-gently parting your folds—and sure enough, immediately your arousal coats his skin.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” he mumbles to himself, his hot breath fanning against you. “Do you like that I’m toying with you while you’re asleep?”

Belphie sucks your tit into his mouth, his fingers rubbing at your clit, and you mewl beneath him. You stir slightly, your limbs stretching against the sheets, but Belphegor is too distracted to care. If you wake up, then you wake up. However, until then, he has no intention of stopping.

His hard-on presses against your side as he teases a finger in between your walls. Your juices coat the digit, but it’s not enough to draw you out of your slumber. So, he pushes in a second—realizing that the current situation is becoming something akin to a game to him. At this point, he’s curious to find exactly how far he can go before you finally wake up.

“Mmm,” you moan, your body shifting. Your hips roll against his hands—clearly your subconscious knows something is going on—and Belphegor laughs quietly. He curls his fingers against your walls—his lips nibbling at the skin on your chest.

“You look pretty all marked up,” he whispers, admiring the fresh red marks he’s created. He knows by morning they’ll be a delicious shade of purple, and the thought causes him to ache. Frowning, he reaches down and strokes himself over his pants. Oh, how he wishes he could just fuck you awake.

…wait.

Tongue darting out to wet his lips, Belphegor scoots down the mattress and in between your thighs. Arousal has pooled between your legs—wetting the fabric of your shorts—and Belphie peels the cloth to the side. Your cute, glistening folds stare back at him, and he reaches his hands forward, spreading his fingers in a V shape so he can see you in all of your glory.

“You haven’t let any of my brothers see you like this, right?” he questions, his tone possessive. He shoves his sweats down his thighs, his hands grabbing your lower half. He drags you down to meet him, his cock rubbing between your soft folds—his pre-cum smearing with your own arousal.

The Avatar of Sloth toys with you for a few seconds—basking in the way your fingers curl into the sheets when the head of his cock flicks against your clit—but finds his self-control wearing thin. He wants to be inside you.

Reaching down—he grabs his length with one hand, and lifts your hips off the bed with the other (really, sometimes it’s easy to forget he’s a demon, and has strength you can’t fathom). Slowly, Belphegor aligns himself with your entrance, his eyes glued on the space between your bodies as he slowly pushes himself inside of you.

In fact, he is so preoccupied with drooling over the way your pussy feels around him, that he fails to notice your fluttering eyelashes—your groggy gaze shifting around as you try to figure out what’s going on.

Until just a moment ago, you’d been having a strange dream. At first, it’d started off as nothing out of the ordinary—you were wandering around the House of Lamentation, doing nothing in particular—but part way through, things had suddenly turned…sexual. Belphie had appeared out of nowhere, whispering dirty things into your ear as his hands found their way beneath your clothing.

Now that you’re awake, the images are beginning to blur in your memory, but you remember, at the very least, that things had just been starting to get good. His mouth on your tits, his hands parting your legs as he prepared to enter you.

“Mmm,” you whine, eyebrows pinching as you feel some pressure in your lower half. You feel…stretched, full—and instinctively clench your muscles, wondering what could be wrong.

“Mm, fuck,” you hear someone’s voice catch—a groan caught behind closed lips—and your eyes open a little wider. You brain fully boots-up, and you become aware of quite a few things at once.

One, your chest is in the open air—your nipples hard, and sore, but somehow, you feel that the reaction isn’t from your lack of covers alone.

Two, the pressure you’re feeling in your lower half is not just a figment of your imagination. Something is inside of your pussy and—

Just as you begin to panic, your eyes flit downward, and you pause. You spot the Avatar of Sloth between your legs—his bottom lip caught between his teeth, and a pure look of ecstasy on his face as he bottoms out inside of you. You can feel the head of his cock pressed up against your cervix, and you gasp—cheeks going red as you finally realize that you hadn’t just had a wet dream coincidentally. No, Belphegor had actually been touching you in your sleep.

“B-Belphie?” you question, pushing yourself up slightly to stare at him. He startles out of his bliss, his orange eyes meeting your embarrassed gaze, and in that moment, you can see an array of emotions flash across his face. He’s embarrassed at being caught, scared of how you’ll react, but…in the end, he still desperately wants to fuck you.

“You know,” he says, experimentally rolling his hips against you. The feeling of his cock inside you is suddenly very prominent—his girth a little overwhelming—and you struggle to catch your breath.

“You got really wet in your sleep. Were you dreaming about me doing this to you?”

“I…,” you can’t find the words to say, your blush creeping down your neck and onto your chest. Belphegor grins happily, his fingers pressing into your skin as he drags his cock out, and then forces it back in again.

“Oh? I was just teasing, but it looks like I hit the nail on the head.”

Your mouth opens, but no words come out. How are you supposed to respond? Had he really been touching you in your sleep? It’s not like you weren’t interested in the youngest brother, and hadn’t daydreamed about him before in this light, but…you hadn’t imagined him ever being bold enough to literally fuck you out of your sleep.

Belphegor grinds into you once more—his cock pressing into your sweet spot—and you moan, your spine curving upward off the mattress. You can sense the pleasure that has already pooled in your gut—the sensation either left over from your wet-dream, a product of Belphegor’s actions in real life, or both.

Humming, the youngest brother coasts his hand up your torso—his fingers dragging across your supple skin and causing goosebumps to rise. His touch ghosts between your breasts, his warm palm settling against your throat as the pads of his fingers squeeze firmly on either side of your neck.

“Do you like that I played with you without you knowing?” he asks, but you can tell he already knows the answer. He rocks against you—his length dragging between your walls at an agonizingly slow pace. One that has a whine building in your throat—your body shifting down to try and quicken his thrusts.

In response, Belphegor squeezes your neck a little harder, and you feel light headedness beginning to set in.

“I’d really like it if you answered my question.”

“Yes,” you respond. As if rewarding you, the Avatar of Sloth bucks his hips a little harder—his pace speeding up incrementally.

“Have you been wanting this to happen?” he continues, an edge to his tone. You realize that as you reaffirm his suspicions, his arousal grows. He wants to hear you admit all the dirty things you’ve thought about him and have kept to yourself.

“A lot.”

Again, Belphegor ups the intensity—lewd, wet sounds echoing throughout your room as he penetrates you. His hair is messier than usual, a dark look in his eye that lets you know he’s enjoying this a bit too much.

Despite not being the best of friends with Lucifer, he certainly has inherited a bit of his older brother’s sadistic tendencies…

“Belphie, mm, please,” you beg, your eyes half lidded as you glance at him. He’s pounding into you with no remorse, the bedframe creaking with his movements. At the same time, his fingers continue to tighten around your throat. You can still breathe perfectly fine (albeit your breaths coming out short and hitched thanks to his cock and the wonders it’s doing to you), but things are starting to become a bit fuzzy thanks to the lack of blood flow. Yet, somehow, the sensation only causes the fire smoldering in your gut to reach new levels.

Belphegor feels your pussy clench around him, and he basks in the way your head falls back against the sheets—your eyes mindlessly watching him as he unravels you. Really, he wants to choke you even more—keep you a mindless little puppet who can do nothing but take what he gives—but he doesn’t want to hurt you. You’re a human, and this is the first time you’ve both been intimate like this, so. Despite his deep, dark desires, he loosens his grip.

Immediately you breathe deeply, your eyes regaining their light as your mind becomes more aware.

“Do you want to cum?” he asks, his hand still holding your neck firmly. You nod your head, bottom lip catching between your teeth. The look on your face is one of pure ecstasy—a hint of desperation beginning to knit between your eyebrows—and Belphie licks his lips.

Truly, he wants to burn this memory into his mind. You—writhing against the sheets, filled to the brim with his cock—your tits bouncing at every thrust, and your fingers gripping at the sheets. He’s not sure he’s seen anything so beautiful.

“I want you to beg.”

“Please,” you respond immediately, never breaking eye contact. “Please, Belphie. I want to cum so bad.”

“How bad?” Even if his member throbs painfully at your words—his own release taunting him—he doesn’t feel like letting you off so easy.

“V-Very bad,” you stutter, knowing that you could cum at any moment. You’re only holding on by a thread. However, there’s a submissive part of you that wants his permission first—even if holding back makes you feel like you’re going insane.

“I need to cum, Belphie. Please. Oh god, please!”

Your spine curves, eyes pressing shut and knuckles turning white, and Belphie knows this is it. You’ve reached your breaking point.

“Cum,” he commands, permitting your release. Immediately, your walls hug his cock—a guttural groan sneaking past your lips as you let go of yourself. The Avatar of Sloth loses himself in the way your pussy grips his length—attempting to milk his orgasm out of him—and it works.

He curses, his fingers once again pressing against your neck as he empties himself inside of you. You whine at the feeling—wet, and sticky, and perhaps you’ve gone a bit light headed again from his grasp (but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t love it).

“Belphegor,” you whisper once you’re sure his bliss has subsided—his eyes fluttering open as his gaze falls on you. You look a little helpless now—and immediately the youngest brother sweeps down to kiss you. The gesture is sweet—his lips soft—and you lift your arms to wrap around him.

“I’m sorry,” he says, a little heartbroken by how defenseless you look now that the heat of the moment has subsided. Even if you had both enjoyed yourselves, Belphegor is guilty of quite literally fucking you out of your sleep, and he’s sure the entire scenario is a bit startling.

Beneath him, hugging him to your chest, you shake your head.

“No, it’s okay,” you reassure him, your cheeks flushing pink. “I enjoyed that. It was just…unexpected.”

“That’s what makes it fun,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss beneath your jaw. You giggle, your hands petting through his hair.

“I suppose you’re right.” 

You’re quiet for a moment, and Belphie blinks when your hands suddenly leave him. Glancing up, he finds that both of your palms are now covering your face—your blush beginning to sneak down onto your chest.

“Ahhhh~ I can’t believe I woke up with your dick inside of me,” you whisper, clearly frazzled. Belphegor laughs, pressing more kisses to your naked skin.

“And you loved it. Now stop freaking out, and let’s go to sleep. I’m exhausted.”

“Lil brat,” you grumble, but the Avatar of Sloth only laughs again. He rolls beside you—his head still resting on your chest, and you sigh. Of course, the demon who had decided to startle you awake is now the one so easily passing out atop you.

“You can dream about round two until we get to it in real life,” he says with a yawn, his cheek nuzzling against your breast. Your face feels warm again, but you don’t respond. Instead, you soak in Belphegor’s warmth—and within minutes, his steady breathing has lulled you back into sleep.

“How was your night?”

Lucifer’s voice startles you as you walk into the dining hall for breakfast the next morning. You jump, turning to face him with wide eyes. There’s an innocent smile plastered on his face.

“Good,” you respond, forcing a smile of your own as you try to keep any intimate memories of the previous night from resurfacing in your head. “I actually got some sleep.”

“Whhhhatttt? I figured Belphie would keep you up all night. He’s the king of night owls,” Leviathan speaks up from the table, turning to look at you and Lucifer.

“Well, he did wake me up, at some point,” you respond without really thinking, and immediately seven pairs of eyes are on you.

“Why?” Satan questions, his eyebrow raised curiously. Gazes shift between you, and Belphegor—who is sat at the far end of the table. He seems unbothered by the entire situation.

“I was feeling needy,” he says, and you can hear the grin in his voice, even if it doesn’t show his face. “Y/N helped me out.”

Immediately Mammon is choking on his food—Beel reaching over to smack his back. Asmo looks a little too giddy at his brother’s proclamation, eyebrows wiggling suggestively as most of the brothers turn their attention back to you—awaiting your response.

Obviously, the only logical option is to roll with it.

“Why are you all looking at me like that? I can tell what you’re thinking, you perverts.”

Neither a confirmation, nor denial. So, not necessarily a lie!

“Wow, what kind of person do you take me for?” Belphegor joins in, enjoying the moment way too much. Lucifer’s eyes narrow, not very convinced, but he doesn’t press the matter.

“I’m glad you managed to get some sleep. I’ll be awaiting your report,” he ends up saying, and then leans in a bit closer. “I expect it to be written in full detail.”

A chill runs up your spine, and he smiles at you once more before stepping away from you and heading to the table. You join him after a moment, your eyes landing on Belphegor as the youngest grins—dancing around Mammon’s questions as the second oldest begins interrogating the Sloth Avatar on the true meaning of his words.

Belphie is practically beaming as he teases his brothers, and you find yourself rolling your eyes—a fond smile tugging at your lips.

Oh gosh, what are you going to do with him…

…and oh fuck, what are you going to do with your report?

#om! #obey me #obey me! smut #om! belphegor #belphie! smut #belphegor smut #belphie x mc #belphegor x mc #belphegor x reader #belphie x reader #boy I hate tagging #belphie fic

[ghostdrew22]

One Of Those Days || Draco Malfoy

Requested: No

Pairing: post-war Draco Malfoy x fem!reader

Warnings: Some police detective talk(not good but something) and a few mentions of murder and whatnot. But it’s quite fluffy in my opinion.

Summary: Draco and Y/N work as detectives in a muggle police department and she has a really rough day after it looks like one of her cases is about to fall through. Draco can sense that she’s had a bad day and offers to help her get her work done.

WORDS : 2001

~

Draco prided himself in knowing as much about you as possible- it was his hobby in fact. Draco could tell your silhouette through stained glass windows, he could tell your laugh from three storey’s above you, he could sense your footsteps from kilometers away and he could pinpoint whatever emotion you were feeling with just a single sound from you. Some people would find it creepy- the way he focused so intently on every detail of you like he needed to commit your entire existence to memory- but you loved it, relished it in fact, especially on days when it felt like the entire world was against you and all you needed was for him to comfort you.

That’s why when you’d come by his office to get him for dinner that night he’d known that you weren’t up for it. You were trying very hard to hold it together- it was date night with Blaise and Pansy after all- but he just knew that today had been one of those days, and he made quick work of getting you comfortable on the little couch in his office. It was in the heavy steps you took when you came in- like you couldn’t bare to carry the weight of your own body even though your own office was barely a few paces away from his- and the fake smile that didn’t reach your eyes.

“Are you okay?” He asked once he’d finally got you seated comfortably- pulling your feet into his lap so he could start massaging them- and you tried your best to feign stability with a nod.

“Yes, just a long day.”

“There’s no need to lie, love.” He persisted and moved one hand below your chin so he could lift your head to look at him. “I know something’s up.”

And he was right, as usual, something was up and it had been bothering you all day. One of your cases just didn’t make sense, no matter how hard you looked there didn’t seem to be the missing string that would tie it all together. You knew who the murderer was, it was textbook really, but you just couldn’t find any evidence tying him to the murder no matter how hard you tried.

“Is it the case?” He asked- referring to the homicide case you’d been working at relentlessly for three weeks now- and you merely nodded meekly in response, feeling too hopeless and tired to manage more.

Both you and Draco had wanted to pursue law enforcement for as long as you could remember- particularly homicide investigation- but after the war neither of you could bare the idea of being aurors- the trauma deterring you both from wanting anything to do with fighting the dark arts- and so you decided that working as muggle detectives was the next best thing. And you loved your jobs, really, but it was a hard job to do when every other aspect of your lives benefitted from the use of magic. I mean, how would you explain to a jury that magic helped you track down a suspect in record time? It was absolutely outrageous and it made sure that you both stuck by the book. But it could be immeasurably exhausting despite your love for it, and today was one of those days.

“He’s going to walk.” You said before a sob escaped your lips and Draco was quick to grab you by the shoulders gently and pull you into his chest for soothing- knowing that all you really wanted was for him to listen to you complain and hold you tightly. So you began to explain your situation to him and he listened intently- absorbing every single detail that he could and running his hand up and down your arm to keep you at bay.

“Do you want help going over the files?” He asked once you’d finished explaining. The truth was that you did want help- particularly his help because he was the only person in the entire homicide department with an eye better than your own when it came to this kind of stuff- but you didn’t want to ask for it in fear of adding to his workload, and so you bit your lip and shook your head softly.

“It’s okay Drac, don’t worry about it.” You tried to brush it off, but Draco knew you too well to fall for your antics and he shook his head back at you.

“Nonsense love, I’ll help.” You opened your mouth to protest- already feeling guilty at making him help you- but he was quick to interrupt you, already knowing what you were going to say. “You’e not adding onto my workload Y/N, I’ve always got time to help you and you know that.”

You sighed in defeat- knowing that you weren’t going to win- and looked up at him with a pout, “Are you sure?”

“I’m positive.”

“Hey! Who’s ready to get-“ Blaise had barged into the office excitedly but stopped his speech immediately upon the sight of you and your husband on the couch. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t think we can do tonight mate, Y/N’s case has hit a standstill and I’ve offered her to help her go over the case files to find something that’ll help.” Draco answered his best friend with a solemn expression and Blaise nodded in understanding.

“Is it the Yarvis case?” Blaise asked and you nodded faintly with a sigh, “I could help too if you need an extra set of eyes.” Blaise had also decided to join you and Draco in the muggle detective business, but where you and Draco were homicide detectives, Blaise was focused on Narcotics. Ironic for someone who had been the biggest stoner in your year group.

“Blaise, you really don’t have to. I know you and Pansy have been looking forwa-“ You started but Blaise was already shaking his head and dropping his coat onto the hanger by the door before you could finish.

“That’s absolute nonsense Y/N, we’ve been looking forward to spending time with the two of you and this would count. Think about it, we can order Chinese food and crack into those files around the table like one of those cheesy muggle movies you love?” Blaise offered with a soft smile and eyebrow raise and you had to resist the urge to cry on the spot.

“That would actually be great, thank you Blaise.”

“Anything for a friend. Let me go ring Pansy and tell her to bring Chinese on the way.”

“Okay.” Draco replied to his best friend with a thankful smile.

“The usual?”

“Yes please!” You shouted back as Blaise made his way out of the office with a chuckle at your excitement.

And that is how date night turned into the four of you laid out on the floor around a little table in Draco’s office, eating chow mien and going over your case files- trying to find any inkling of evidence that could tie the suspect to the murder.

“Hey Y/N?” Pansy calls from across you as she strains her eyes at an image from one of the folders- although Pansy is an auror, she has a particular knack for muggle crime as well.

“Yes?” You hum as you slowly bring your eyes up to meet hers.

“What’s this in the corner?” She passes the image to you for you to see what she’s referring to.

“It’s just a photograph in a frame, I think it’s the parents and their children.”

“Okay, now look at this.” She passes you a second, almost identical, image of the scene and the photo frame is nowhere to be seen.

“Where’s it gone?” You ask in disbelief.

“I think it disappeared while you were on the scene of the crime, I think it was magic.”

“What?” You furrow your eyebrows at her as you look back down at the images.

“A delayed protection spell perhaps?”

Draco doesn’t say anything but moves closer so that he can also see the two images.


“Why magic? It could’ve been bagged as evidence.”

“No, there are no photo frames in this evidence log.” Blaise pipes up as he passes you the log to inspect yourself.

“Hmm.” You huff and narrow your eyebrows at everything you’ve been handed. “But I’m pretty sure that they’re a muggle family, what could magic have to do with this?”

Pansy shrugs with a thin smile and you sigh- realising that you’ve hit yet another stumbling block- as a silence encapsulates the room.

“Shit.” Draco mumbles as he drops the images onto the ground and quickly jumps off the ground to walk toward his desk his desk.

“Shit?” You ask as you observe his suddenly frantic state as he tries to find something- feeling excitement bubble up inside you at the prospect of him having a lead.

“Yes, shit.” He pulls out two large files from one of his desk drawers and drops them onto the surface, “That- that picture, look at what’s behind the family.”

You narrow your eyes at frame that’s in the evidence shot. “The park?”

“The man that’s on the bench in the park.” Draco responds as he shuffles through papers, “A few months ago I had a case to this where we couldn’t pin the murder to our prime suspect because it all fit so perfectly together but none of the evidence was sufficient enough to withstand trial.”

“Was that the-“ Blaise starts.

“The Hunter Street case? Yes.” Draco answers, “Then right before it looked like she was going to walk, some random evidence perfectly matched up and tied her to the entire thing. It was almost too good to be true.”

“Oh yeah, I remember how confused you were about that.”

“Now I remember why I was so unsettled by it, she wasn’t the culprit.”

“She’s been in jail three months now, a bit too late to be pointing fingers.” Blaise adds with an awkward chuckle and Draco’s lips draw upward slightly at the comment.

“Who did it then?”

“There was a neighbor, a man, who came out as a witness and claimed to have seen her on the night of the crime. I didn’t interview him but I caught a glimpse of him and he is that man in the photograph.”

“How can you be so sure?” Pansy furrows her eyebrows.

“I never forget a face.” Draco utters sternly as he looks Pansy dead in the eyes and you smile proudly.

“So how does he connect to everything?” You ask with furrowed eyebrows.

“He’s the missing puzzle piece, but I think he’s working with someone on the inside.”

“So you think someone discarded the frame for him? On the scene of the crime?”

“Yes! But it definitely wasn’t the photographer, and it means whoever did that arrived after everyone else.” Draco continues and you nod- digesting the information.

“Okay...” You agree with him- feeling a sense of relief wash over you at the fact that finally something is starting to make sense.

Yes, it had been one of those days but everything felt like it was worth it when you could watch your husband in action. You stared at him in awe as he rummaged through the pile of papers in front of him- already connecting the millions of dots that had started forming in his head- and you had to resist the urge to pull him into a kiss of adoration.

“Found it!” Draco explains as he pulls out a small piece of paper and squints to read what’s written on it. Without a second of hesitation he strides toward the door and pulls both of your coats off the hook then stands against the door frame and waits for you.

“Are you coming? We’ve got a murderer to catch.” He asks as he waits for you by the door and you quickly nod and hop off the ground to join him- feeling warmth consume you at the sight of the excited glint in his eyes.

Yes, it had been one of those days… But those days would always be easy to take in stride when you had Draco with you.

<~>

 I feel like I kind of half-assed this toward the end just because I needed to get it done before I lost the love for it, but I still love the general concept either way. I wrote this because I can see Draco wanting to solve crimes and be a detective but I can’t see him wanting to be an auror after the war because he’d be fighting the very same people he ‘worked’ with once and working with the very same people he ‘fought’ against once, and the trauma from the entire situation would be too much to handle and make him hate his job- so muggle detective Draco is born! :)

anyway, love you all,

jean <3

#draco #draco malfoy #draco x y/n #draco imagine #draco fanfiction #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy one-shots #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter x reader #blaise zabini #pansy parkinson #y/n

[dragonofthedepths]

9/100 (9th of June 2021)

Written/posted for the #100daysofwriting challenge by @the-wip-project Structure as offense and characterization as defense, or the other way around. Is this something you think about? Do you have other metaphors when you think about your stories and how they work?

Nope, I don’t do sports at all. And no, at least none that I use more than once out of the blue and immediately forget about afterward.

Outlines for the blurps posted yesterday!: 

Fukaboshi timetravel Intelligence Agent.  23.5.21 The Crown Prince of Fishman island went missing when he was an infant, The reason for this is that little timetraveling baby Fukaboshi took off almost as soon as he was born in order to get as much of a head start on the many things that need doing as he could, and drawing from his future Haki and his King’s (Luffy’s) Will made it all the way across Paradise in time to watch Roger’s execution. By the time canon swings around Fukaboshi has succeeded in accomplishing as much as could possibly be expected and has laid the groundwork for a fair bit more, and become a highly secretive and sought after (and therefore endangered) informant in the information wars of the black market, with a habit of popping in unexpectedly on both Shanks and Fisher Tigar.

And We Would Be Diminished                                22.5.21 Luffy dimension hop v Shirohige. Inspired by a One Piece fic I read a long time ago and have no idea how to find again. Nothing is going well, chaos is everywhere, the world is on the brink of aimless collapse, WG is out of ideas and tries summoning the strongest person from another world to see if they could be convinced to help. It’s Pirate King Monkey D. Luffy. He does not help them. He does run off and begin causing incredible amounts of trouble as he waits for his crew to find a way to blast open a hole to this universe and come get him. (Luffy knows that he and his crew exist in this universe, he also knows it doesn’t matter. They are... diminished, somehow. He can feel it.) All the Mugiwara kind of... mentally failed in this universe. They made a bad decision, took a turn they shouldn’t have, and didn’t become what they could have been. Jinbei gave into hatred back when he was still a guard, so he never became as close with the royal family, and he sided with Arlong and left with him so he never became a Shichibukai and is much weaker. Whatever Sora took to make Sanji normal didn’t work, and he’s exactly like his brothers. Brook probably died somehow. Not sure if Luffy failed before or after he got the Strawhat but I’m leaning toward after because then it can match the "if something went wrong" drawings Oda did for what Luffy would look like in the future, and I kinda want him to still have the first three on his crew whoever they’re hanging around being useless. Ect. ect.

Shichibukai timetravel.                                 24.5.21 All seven original Shichibukai unexplainably come back in time from somewhere vaguely between the current manga and Luffy becoming the pirate King to mildly pre-canon. This happens in the middle of a Shichibukai meeting when they were all stuck in a room at a table together somewhere at Navy HQ and the tension was already high. Then they kind of blink for a second as they all get their memories back, then all hell breaks loose at once as Moria has a breakdown (he died), Jinbei attacks a suddenly cackling Doflamingo and Hancock backs him up (a member of Luffy’s crew, Luffys enemy who’s an evil nutcase, Luffy’s self-proclaimed wife), Crocodile and Mihawk both cause massive damage to property and personnel on their way out (Mihawk is the one who ends up having to pause to explain that they’re all from the future, and as at the point they’re from they’ve been fired none of them feel at all like sticking around to continue playing by the military’s rules when they know it’s just waiting to backstab them.), and Kuma just up and leaves in what would probably normally be a very notable manner but is a little hard to notice with all the other chaos going on (Revolutionary who just got the last of his free will back).

Marco reincarnation pain.                               23.5.21 Inspired by a fic I read recently that I could probably find a link to if given the time. Centuries have passed, everyone has reincarnated time and time again without their memories except for Marco who has just lived through everything as an immortal. Some groups find eachother again and again like the ASL and the Mugiwara (you challenge Luffy’s King status to any of the Mugiwara and they will bite your head off even if they’ve never met any of the others this lifetime, this is something Marco knows well) but for some reason the Shirohige never do, which brings Marco incredible pain. The only other person who keeps their memories is Luffy (and possibly Roger), so when the Shirohige randomly all get their memories of their canon life and forget to broadcast this fact to Marco with no idea it’s been hundreds of lifetimes since then as they reform and attempt to drag him into the middle of this he has a breakdown and seeks out the second Pirate King as has been his go-to for a good many lifetimes now.

Sabo is bad at being a Tenryūbito         ? >2021 Yeah long story but Sabo is a Tenryūbito not just a noble and something happens to Marco and the Shirohige don’t know what or where or if he’s alive, Tenryūbito!Sabo spots him in bird form in a cage in Mariejois and clocks that that is Ace’s crewmate Shirohige’s crew and oh shit that needs to be fixed and is still panicking when he gets to Sabaody where he sees a random female member of the Shirohige and panic-announces that he’s going to marry her because then she’ll have to come to Mariejois and she can see Marco and tell Shirohige and they can come rescue him and this works except for the part where he forgot that she’d be living with him and he spends the better part of a fortnight doing a very bad job of pretending to be a normal Tenryūbito until he just gives up and just blatantly takes a pipe and goes into his massive forest room and kills and cooks and eats a crocodile like the feral forest child he is. Then the Shirohige get there and they sneak in through his house and that’s how Ace finds out that Sabo is alive he was just recaptured by his parents. 

#100daysofwriting #One Piece #Monkey D. Luffy #Edward Newgate #Fukaboshi #Mugiwara no Ichimi #Portgas D. Ace #it’s gonna take so many tags to future-proof this #i don’t have the brain power right now #it’s more than 20 past midnight already #but for reasons I can’t understand my IPad clock insists on being an hour late and I can’t fix it #so according to it it’s still 11 something #so I’m gonna go with that and call myself good #fix tags later

[justagirlsearchingforamuse]

A/N: So here is my first twd and first Negan smut, I posted this on ao3 where I will take requests and the link will be somewhere around here but I hope you guys enjoy and have a good filthy fucking time, lol.

The sound of heavy footsteps could be heard in the empty store covered and coated with dust, serene silence had filled the entire store long ago and left it untouched and latex was a scent that remained strong in the store. His eager forest green eyes darted around the store as so many things caught his interest, so many things to play with, so many ways to punish you and the rest of his lovely wives. He had a few other men with him like always, grumpy and always seen as no shit taken kinda guys but with this trip, they couldn't stop grinning and staring at everything that the store had. "Mmh, so whaddya' think guys ... should I pick up a few toys for my girls? ... Give them something to fuck themselves with whilst I'm gone." Negan chuckled devilishly to himself as he crouched down in front of a tall shelf full of many phallic-shaped toys that were now covered in large amounts of dust. A wide box with many smaller yet more pleasurable toys lied in the box, picking up one of the toys, he rubs the dust off of the small silver vibrator, grinning devilishly at the small toy he chuckles. This will be perfect. That's all that Negan thinks of with a sly grin on his lips, he slips it into his back pockets before picking up the dusty old box of toys and motions one of his men over. "Here, take this to my truck, I just wanna have a look around ... see whatever the fuck there is to see," Negan announced, handing the large man the dusty box.

"Of course, boss ...", the man answered carrying the decently sized box out into the driveway, obeying his commands sheepishly almost with a cheesy grin at the mere sight of anything shaped like a penis. Negan grins to himself before sluggishly moving his way towards the opposite end of the store, eager to see what else the untouched store had to offer him. An almost genuine grin always rested upon his lips. But my, my, my did he have some plans for you being his latest wife that he took under his wing. You had taken your time with Negan, you knew he had his eyes on you for quite a while but you weren't going to marry him without knowing something about him, you spent a little while getting to know him. You went on dates here and there even though a good portion of those dates were just you guys driving away from the Saviors and having lunch somewhere else. Or Negan and you spend almost all day in his bedroom, no fucking, no weapons, no zombies just two people in baggy clothes and not a fuck to give in the world as you guys either talked or watched movies. Honestly, you had made your decision when he started opening up to you more or when he started to smile more around you, or when he just seemed lighter and more alive. You thought things might be different. Now here you are, hanging out with one of his wives, a glass of water for you as you both talked about your past lives before hell had became reality. You both relaxed on the couch, she grinned widely at your past with more than one of his wives always holding a glass of wine, honestly, you weren't a big fan of alcohol especially since you didn't have the best past. One dealing with alcoholism and it was your past that you kept buried.

The wives weren't that bad at least not most of them, sure some of them gave you the side-eye or would bump into you purposefully but you weren't big on conflict or drawing attention to yourself so nothing ever came of it. You take a sip of your water, unaware of the mischief that Negan has in store for you and only you alone. Sighing to yourself as one of Negan's wives rambles on and on to you about one of her stupid shitty exes, you can't help but feel Negan slip and slither his way into your mind. You thought about when he would be back, even wondering if he was safe, licking your lips a sigh soon falls from them before you see the wide black doors swing open and there is your husband, Negan. He's grinning widely, forcing it on a little too much as he comes in a tall yet decent sized box, immediately almost everyone's minds wondered what was in the box. "Hey, ladies ...! As you know I always keep my promises and I promised to bring my lovely wives something that they'd enjoy. Just a little token of my appreciation for ya'll ..." Negan exclaims excitedly, moving and rubbing his hands together as the poor prisoner who had to carry it had set it down, opening the box and you could hear glass clinking together. Ugh, alcohol. You immediately rolled your eyes, sighing to yourself before thinking of maybe snagging a bottle of something in case of emergencies, you knew that Negan and mostly everyone there loved alcohol. It's not that you didn't like alcohol especially since you found yourself drinking more often than not due to stress but you just didn't want to acquire a habit that you couldn't get freed of. You watched as all the girls got up to go see what was in the box and the excitement that you could feel in the room as they all began to raid the box for alcohol.

You remained seated on the couch with a glass of water, sighing to yourself before taking a sip, thinking to yourself about your past for a few moments making you swallow your water deeply at the painful memories. "Why don't you go and grab a bottle before they steal it all ...? Oh, my bad ... you know starting to get forgetful, you rarely drink and even then you always complain about how bad it smells ..." Negan chuckles to himself, grinning at you eagerly as he couldn't stop thinking about the small pocket vibrator in his back pocket, all he had to do was do a little convincing and maybe you'd agree to it. You nearly jumped at his sudden appearance, you chuckle at his words before resting a hand upon your chest as you couldn't stop yourself from grinning in front of Negan. He is standing right beside the couch, right next to your body, you sigh deeply before finally responding. " ... I don't have a favorite ... I mean ... eh, I'll tell you more about it as time goes on and if we're still standing. Also, wanted to cut back a bit on my drinking, ya know?" You respond, holding a now empty glass in the palm of your hands, both of your eyes meet for a few moments and you can sense the lust, the eagerness that darkened his eyes. "Yeah, but since you're not doing anything, darling ... I wanted to talk with you in my room, that's if you don't want to sit here and just drink water ..." Negan snickered, taking your hand into his own before you sighed deeply and got up from the couch, his hand still intertwined with yours. You both walk out of the room, the women almost done searching for their preferred bottle of alcohol, his bedroom was a door or 2 down from that room. He opens the door to his bedroom for you with a wide grin resting upon his lips, you enter his bedroom which was neat as always which you always appreciated. "So ... what did you want to talk about? ... Is it good or bad?" You ask, crossing your arms as you couldn't deny that always on edge feeling that stuck like gum at the bottom of your shoes. He chuckles at your question, he licks his lips before sitting down on the bed, rubbing his chin he can't help but like how smart you are, how you question his intentions.

"Awe, darling you always keep yourself on your toes, don't ya? ... I have a very special gift for you, my darling ... it may be small but it does plenty of fucking damage." He answers, a smirk curling onto the sides of his lips, you can sense the mischief in his expression and you expect it to be something that would embarrass you but it also left you eager to find out what it was. "What are you bringing Dwight to fuck me ...? Cause you already know my thoughts on that, love." You chuckle, rolling your eyes with a devilish grin curling onto your lips, Negan couldn't stop himself from chuckling before putting a hand on his chest. "Oh, darling ... aren't you able to murder people with your words? But that's not it, my dear wife ... I'll show you it, I think you'll enjoy it. A lot." Negan chuckles, stopping himself from nearly bursting into laughter at your words, he digs his hand through his pocket and pulls out the small silver bullet vibrator. He then pulls out the remote control he found scavenging through the store, you stare at the silver toy in the palm of his hands for a few moments before biting your lips. "I ... we can use it in the bedroom ... you don't have to ask me twice, ha. I'll enjoy this gift, Negan ... thank you, love." You say, trying to hide the smile that curled onto your lips, you sit beside him and reach out to take it from the palm of his hand before he balls his hand up into a fist. "Ah, ah, ah~ ...! Not yet, my darling ... you must know that I want to do so much more than just use this in the bedroom. ... If anything, I've been thinking of all the ways I could use this little fuckin' toy on you outside of the bedroom." Negan confesses, a smirk resting upon his lips as your mouth becomes agape at the idea that he just explained to you.

"But ... I don't know if I'll be able to handle it. I just have never done something like that, I mean that sounds like it can be so fucking embarrassing. Is that what you want to do? Embarrass me?" You exclaim, your cheeks now a rosy red and your lips pursed together. Negan chuckles before moving his hand onto your exposed thigh, you can feel your stomach flutter with butterflies as you can already see it. You can see you making a fool out of yourself, you can see yourself being branded in the eyes of some as a slut or a whore because of this idea. It mortifies you. "Come on, darling ... you know if things get too messy or too embarrassing I'll drag you off to my bedroom and make it up to you, love. It'll just be for 10 minutes, I wanna see how you handle it. Still, we don't have to if you're not keen on that idea." Negan purrs in your ear, you can feel your body shudder at the lewd and sultriness that drips off of every word, you take in a breath as you can feel his hand travel even higher. Licking your lips, you can feel your cheeks become even hotter and your body is surrendering to all of his charms and you can't stop yourself from being interested in the idea, you can't stop yourself from wanting to see how it plays out. " ... I'm interested in it. But you better keep your promise, if things get too embarrassing or if I draw too much attention then drag me out of there." You exclaim, grasping at his infamous leather jacket and you turn your attention towards him, you could see and just sense the lust and the arousal that darkened his eyes, that influenced his body. He chuckles as his devilish grin grows even wider, he licks his lips before burying his face into your neck, sucking and nipping at the smooth skin.

"Mmh ..." You groan, your fingers tangle themselves in his air and you can feel his hand press against the hem of your panties, igniting this spark of arousal that had you gasping his name lowly. You feel his fingers pull and tug at the waistband of your panties as he slowly pulls them down to your ankles, he then takes the slim and short toy and spreads your legs apart. You can't help but shiver and shudder at the cold feeling of the metal entering you, your walls cling to the slender toy and you can feel Negan's hands pull your panties back up onto your waist. He pulls away from your neck, before pressing a sloppy yet messy kiss against your lips, he savors the messy aspect of the kiss as you can feel his tongue try and pry your lips apart. You grin into the kiss before pulling away shyly, your eyes dart away from his lustful ones, your hands rest themselves on his shoulders. "Come on, let's see how this goes, love." You shyly say, getting up from the bed as you straighten your skirt out, you can feel every hair on the surface of your skin stand tall and your nerves become more visible. Boy, did he make a fool out of you, God the first 5 minutes were mortifying.

You were 5 minutes into it and you already felt your legs were numb, your thighs were soaked and dripping with your juices that struggled to stay in your underwear, your entire body was throbbing and aching with demand. Biting your bottom lip, you found yourself on the balcony where Negan announces whatever he needs to tell the community, you felt the toy vibrate erratically and strongly inside of you causing you to bite your tongue hard. Everyone had given you weird looks, you could barely contain yourself and you were completely redfaced, gripping the railing you were panting heavily as Negan had stood right beside you, shit-eating grin widely on his lips. Him enjoying this was an understatement, fuck, he loved seeing you struggle to contain your filthy fucking urges, he loved hearing those low moans that you let slip when no one else was around. But most of all he loved when you came, how your eyes rolled to the back of your skull, and how your legs shook before an audible groan slipped from your lips, he's surprised at how much control he has over himself. He's surprised he hasn't bent you over yet and fucked you hard, oh wait he might do just that. "Negan ... please ... oh fuck ... turn it down, please ...!" You whimpered, leaning against the railing before a moan was pried from your lips at the feeling of the vibrations becoming even stronger. You felt your body weaken and give in to those strong jolts of ecstasy that traveled all over your entire body, leaving it aching and begging for more. "Not yet, darling ... do you know how fucking hot you are right now? I'm surprised I haven't done this sooner, babygirl. I bet you're just so fucking wet because of a stupid fucking toy, aren't you, darling?" Negan chuckles, his words whispered in your ears as not to alert the guards who remained below you both. Biting your bottom lip, you just want him inside of you, you want to feel his cock throbbing in you, you want to feel his hot cum fill your insides. "P-Please ... I need you so fucking bad, love ..." You whine, clutching at his jacket once again, your eyes pleading desperately with his own, smirking devilishly at you, he grabs you by your chin with greedy eyes. "Beg for it, darlin' ... show me how much you want me to fuck that tight little pussy of yours ..." Negan purrs in your ear, his other hand feeling up your trembling body as you gnawed at your lips, hating him for teasing you even more. "I swear to fucking god, Negan ... please ... give it to me." You whispered, tugging even harder at his leather jacket before you greedily devour his lips, his large slender hands cup your cheeks as he grins into your lips, letting a deep groan slip in between your lips.

"Mmh, darlin' ... show me how much you want it. Get on your knees, baby ... worship my cock and give me a reason to fuck you until you're beggin' for more." Negan chuckles, licking his lips as you waste no time in getting on your knees as your fingers grope and rub against the tall bulge in his jeans. "You better keep your word ..." You mutter beneath your breath as you unzip his jeans, you can hear low and distant snickers from down below, making you nearly roll your eyes at the thought that they were listening. Negan didn't care. No, he didn't give a fuck. As long as they did their damn jobs, everything is gonna be peachy. You can feel his hand cradling the back of your head as you pull his boxers down as well, his thick meaty erection sprang forth, leaking and eager for your warm touch. "Go on ... I'm startin' to get a bit impatient, darlin' ..." Negan coos, a devilish smile planted on his lips before that smile fades away into a long satisfying groan leaving his lips at the new yet familiar warmth wrapped around the head of his cock. Fuck. You lightly suck on the head of his throbbing cock, you wrap your hand firmly around his meaty veiny shaft, you slowly stroke him causing sheer waves of bliss rippling through him. "Damn, darlin' ..." He groans breathlessly, licking his lips, low sucking noises echoed through the large garage, he is savoring and relishing in the idea that his own men are seeing you bend to his very will. Goddamn. You start to move your hands away from his shaft and you wrap your slender fingers around his thighs to keep him still as you engulfed more of his throbbing cock in between your lips earning a light tug at your hair. He's biting at his tongue, swallowing the saliva that had coated his mouth,  he could feel the warmth just surround and embrace his throbbing cock eagerly, strong and sustained jolts of ecstasy washed over him mercilessly. "Fuckin' hell, that feels so fuckin' good baby ..." Negan groans, the urge is there to shove your head down further onto his cock but he knows that with patience comes good things. That's if he could handle it or hold himself back.

"That's it, baby ... worship my cock, take my cock in between those pretty little lips of yours like that ..." Negan chuckles before a moan is pried from his lips, you begin to suck him off even harder, causing this energetic sensation to wash over him, of course, it's indescribable but only with thoughts of it being fucking amazing. You begin to slowly move your head back and forth on his throbbing cock, you can feel him twitch and throb in between your lips as you take him almost effortlessly in your mouth. Negan isn't holding back, he's groaning your name and clutching a fistful of your hair as he isn't shy about showing how good your mouth feels around his cock. Little to no time passes before you're bobbing your head at a swifter pace, your head glides up and down his throbbing cock earning deep groans and curses from Negan at the ecstasy that plagues his being. He can feel his body become heated, his heart is pulsating and throbbing in his ribcage as he can feel his entire body fall victim to the ecstasy that you gave him. Groaning deeply, he yanks you off of his cock with a sharp pull of your hair before grabs you by your arms, nearly shocking you before he bends you over onto the balcony instantly. You can feel him nearly rip your panties off of you as they fall to your feet. "Baby, you still want this ...? I promise I won't be gentle ..." Negan whispers in your ear, you grin devilishly at him before agreeing eagerly. "Alright ... don't be shy when I'm up in that tight pussy of yours ... let them hear how only I can make you feel, baby girl ..." Negan purrs in your ear.

He licks his lips before rubbing the head of his cock up and down your soaked slit earning a closed mouth moan from you before he drove himself swiftly into you. "Fuck ..." You gasp at the unfamiliar sensation of Negan's thick meaty cock stretching your walls once more and filling you up to the brim. God, you felt everything in your body just tingle and throb with greed and a need for Negan to fill your pussy with his hot semen, just the thought made your body ache for his cock. Grabbing a fistful of your hair, his thrusts start heavy and rough earning low needy whines of his name leave your parted lips along with heavy breaths that rang through the room. You can see 2 men guarding the balcony with long rifles in their grasps, their backs turned towards you and you know that they're hearing everything, you heard them snickering and smiling to themselves but you don't care. Negan grunts deeply, your walls cling to his throbbing cock and the warmth is even better, burning hot waves of ecstasy tear through him with every heavy and rough movement of his hips inside of you. Tugging at your hair, he continues to slowly move his hips in and out of your heat yet he's struggling to keep himself from moaning like a woman in heat, fuck he'd have to fuck you more often now. It was exhilarating. "Negan ...! I thought you promised me ... anything but gentle ..." You groan, trying to tease him into ramming his cock into you at a much faster pace. He chuckles, heavy breaths leaving his lips before his hand swiftly smacks across your ass causing you to jump at the stinging sensation that spread across your ass. "Don't tease me ... I swear I will have you screaming my name without giving a fuck ... I'll do it over and over again until you pass out. If anything I might as well do that, ha ..." Negan purrs in your ear, chuckling before he begins to slam his hips into you earning a hoarse cry from your lips at how his cock repeatedly hit your sweet spot. "Negan ...! Oh, fuck ...! Oh, yeah!" You cried out shamelessly, pure fucking ecstasy rippling and vibrating through you relentlessly, leaving you clinging to the railing as cries flew from your lips. Negan's grunts echoed through your ears as he continued to pull himself out of you swiftly before slamming back into you relentlessly and mercilessly. The way you said his name, fucking hell, it just drove him to fuck you even harder.

"Yeah, take it ... scream my name, don't ever let me catch you ... saying anyone else's name ... you're mine. Mine." Negan growled deeply in your ear, he's lightly tugging at your hair before he pulls away from your face, his hands are gripping your hips firmly as his hips slam into you harshly. Your pussy is clinging firmly to his throbbing cock and you're only getting wetter, he can taste heaven when he's inside of you, he can feel how amazing, how mind-numbingly amazing it was to be inside of you. Continous waves of bliss vibrate through him as heavy grunts make their way out of his parted lips, quickly the sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the area earning a deep blush on your cheeks when you heard the sound. The 2 men stood there, rifles in hand with massive erections and thoughts that were less than pure, to them it felt so embarrassing yet so ... arousing to just hear the sounds you're making. He continues for a little while, your cries of ecstasy echoing through the sanctuary as the night went on, it wasn't too long before your cries became screams. "Oh! Yes! Negan ...! Haah ... Negan ...! I-I'm close!" You cried out breathlessly, clutching the railing as hard as you can, you can feel your stomach coil and sink into your ribs, your body awaiting your orgasm. Grunting deeply, his hand smacks firmly against your ass, leaving a slightly red mark against your skin earning a gasp from your lips before yanks you by your hair, bringing your head further towards his mouth. "Mmh, baby ... cum for me, cum all over my cock ... don't forget to scream who you belong to, darlin' ..." Negan growls in your ear, his words are dripping and soaked in wanton possessiveness that nearly drives you mad. Your mind is screaming and soon you'll be screaming along with it. Negan grunts deeply, his cock throbbing erratically inside of you as he can feel himself tipping and teetering on the edge, biting his bottom lip hard, he slams his hips into you as hard as he can feel himself finally reach his peak. A hoarse and strained cry of Negan's name leaves your lips as you can only describe it as lightning striking you, leaving your body trembling and petrified with ecstasy that vibrates throughout your being.

His semen coats your insides, leaving you full to the brim with his heated cum before you let out a deep breath, you already know that you'll be all that the saviors will talk about. You know that you'll have to try not to die out of embarrassment or perhaps blame it all on Negan and his perverted mind but honestly, you know that they'll forget about it in a week or so. Licking your lips, you feel Negan slip out of you and you can hear the sound of his belt jingling and you begin to pull up your soaked panties, you fix your dress before letting another deep breath leave your lips. "Mmh, come on darlin' ... let's get you cleaned up and I'll get you straight to bed, got a long day tomorrow. But this has to be one of my favorite nights with you, perhaps the most memorable ..." Negan says, rubbing his chin as he wraps his arm around your waist as you both make your way back to his bedroom. "Of course this will be the most memorable to you ... but seriously, I kinda enjoyed it. Ya know, the ... open aspect and the not giving a fuck feeling that I felt as time went on." You say, grinning at him before resting your head on his shoulder, honestly, a bath and bed sounded so fucking amazing after the day that you had. "Glad I could make you happy today, darlin' ..." Negan says, kissing your forehead as he opened his bedroom door, he sits you down on his bed before he goes to the bathroom, he turns on the warm water and pours a glass of wine beside the bathtub. But by the time he came back you were knocked out, curled up with soft breaths leaving your lips. Smiling softly to himself, he gets you out of your dress and puts you in one of his old tee shirts, and lets you rest in his bed before he leaves you to go attend a bath waiting for him. "Man, this one is different ..." Negan thinks to himself before sleeping right beside you or getting as much sleep as he possibly can get.

#negan smut #negan x y/n #the walking dead negan #the walking dead #twd smut #negan x reader #negan x female reader #twd imagine #twd smut imagine #twd negan x reader

[avengersassemble-fics]

You Again

part 010/?? “the encounter with oliver queen”

masterlist

previous part // next part

word count 6k jorwbngjroeagn

WARNINGS: slight mention of thoughts of suicide; smut i.e expressive word usage, dry humping

an: erajibgijrea;bgj;ire don’t kill me. this was the dress inspo. also, for those who didn’t see my post, I was considering switching Bruce Wayne descriptions and face usage to our new batman, robert pattinson. and also switching barry allen to the grant gustin one.. yikes so much has happened to our dc people huh?

Being back in Star City (although the last time you wandered the streets it was still known as Starling) felt like you were eighteen again. You were instantly hit with the memories you had shared with your college roommate Laurel wandering these streets at night from one destination to another every Friday night. You also remembered why you were jumping destination to destination, and that was following in the steps of her high school sweetheart: Oliver Queen.

You had only met him once or twice in passing. One of those times was when you had returned from that first fateful trip back home and he nearly immediately left the room. The second and final time you had seen him was shortly before his disappearance, and with him went Laurel’s sister… But Laurel pushed through, and last you knew still lived here in the city. You wondered how Oliver’s reemergence from death affected her. Regret settled into the pit of your stomach with the thought that you hadn’t been there for her with that, but you chalked it up to being in two different worlds now.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when the front desk attendant was handing back your credit card and a little envelope with the standard two keycards. You nodded your thanks and walked back over to Clark, who had been patiently waiting close by the elevators and carried all the bags. “Got the keys?”

“Yup,” you replied. You had moved to grab at least your bag from him but he shook his head. “Oh come on don’t be a macho man. I can carry a bag”

“You have a bag,” Clark grinned and motioned to the small wallet in your hand. You rolled your eyes and tapped the button on the wall. “Really it’s no problem. I’ve carried more.”

The door dinged softly before the doors opened, and you each stepped inside. You could feel the elevator shift slightly with Clark’s weight and couldn’t help but bite your cheek. When the doors finally closed you let out a small chuckle. “Yeah yeah. Cars, planes, spaceships--”

“Buildings,” he chimed in. You smiled a bit.

“Oh yeah can’t forget the buildings.”

Your voice trailed off, watching the floor numbers move one by one. Clark had caught the tone shift, but he didn’t push any further. He let you lead the way when the doors reopened to a hallway, he followed you down a few feet and then around a corner before coming to a halt before a door. You pushed it open for him and held it ajar for him to easily enter, and when he did he set the bags down on one of the couches that adjourned the suite. It was a large room, or rooms really, and he took a quick glance around. “You paid for a suite for only one night?”

“No,” you said as you worked on grabbing things out of your bag. Clark raised a brow before you looked up and offered him a smile. “Bruce is paying for this for only one night.”

Clark chuckled a bit but continued to watch while you pulled out a garment bag, which must have housed your dress, other pieces of black fabric, and then a bundle of essentials. You hummed quietly to yourself, and went over to one of the double doors and pushed it open, and he was knocked from his train of thought. “I’m going to shower then get ready.. The other room should have a bathroom as well if you wanted.”

“Yeah, I probably will. Thanks,” he replied. You gave him another smile before closing the door behind you and Clark finally let out a pent up sigh. He went to rummage through his own bag when he heard the shower turn on, and he could hear the faint echo of your feet hitting the shower floor. Clark took a deep breath before moving again to the other room, he needed to cloud his senses so he couldn’t focus on the sound of you drenching the included loofah in soap before running it over your skin. He quickly turned his own shower on to block out the sound the fabric made as it worked across what he knew to be bare skin. Clark couldn’t help but shutter as he himself discarded his clothes and stepped into the freezing water.

Anything to get his mind off of the idea that he could just easily be in the other shower with you.

It was nearing time for them to leave. Though the venue was a short ways away from where you had chosen to stay, though now that Clark thought about it this looked to be the nicest hotel in Star City, he was eager to get what they needed and get out. He knew who Oliver Queen was, he had also seen some of this Green Arrow’s early work, and though he knew you could handle yourself he couldn’t help but worry about how tonight would go. Clark was looking out of the ceiling to floor windows when his phone began to vibrate in his pocket. With one fell swoop he pulled it out and answered it.

“Diana,” he greeted through the line. Though he couldn’t see it, Diana was sitting comfortably back at the warehouse bunker, enjoying the peace and quiet not having people around brought her.

“Hey. Listen I was going through Bruce’s information on Star City, and wanted to give you a bit of a warning.”

Clark took a couple steps away from the window and raised his brow. “What exactly are you warning us of?”

“Well,” Diana sighed into his ear. “There have been attacks recently. The media refers to him as the Throwing Star Killer. Nothing you can’t handle, but.. Something to keep an eye out for. I’m not sure if Mr. Queen’s presence will draw any unwarranted attention from this guy.”

“I won’t be too far from her then,” he said. The two mumbled goodbyes to one another and when Clark went to put his phone back into his pocket he heard you tumble in the other room, followed by a quiet “shit”. Cautiously he neared the door and tapped on it with a couple of his fingers.

“Yeah!” You had called out, though he could hear the exasperation in your voice. Clark cleared his throat, shuffling his feet a bit to speak closer to the door.

“Is everything alright?” He asked. You hesitated for a moment from what he could tell before he heard your feet shuffle over to the door. You unlocked one of the sides and pulled one door open just a crack, just enough for your face to come into view. Clark could see your work, your hair shaped in a way that framed your face, which was painted in a way that accented your skin perfectly. If anything you knocked the wind out of him, but he couldn’t help but see you hide yourself behind the door and look over him with curiosity.

“You look nice,” you offered him. Clark looked down at himself for a second before meeting your gaze again.

“Thank you,” he said in a light tone. “Are you..?”

“Ready? No, I.. I kinda need help.”

“Help,” Clark repeated. He felt his stomach twist but he kept his cool, only offering you a nod. “I can help..?”

“Okay,” you replied back rather quickly. “Hold on just a sec.”

You had closed the door again but didn’t lock it. Clark wondered where you were off too but he didn’t have too long to think about it before you cleared your throat and offered for him to enter. Clark carefully pushed open the door again, letting himself in and glancing around the room. When his eyes fell on you he had to catch his breath. You were standing inside your dress, which draped down you beautifully in a light grey color. The strapless number was framed in the front in a low v shape, with two straps that hung over your arms. Clark could see you holding the fabric up with your hands, your own fingers draped across your chest and he blinked when you began to speak. “I was putting it on and the zipper stuck and.. Well can you finish zipping it?”

Speechless, Clark could only offer a nod but you turned away from him regardless. Now taking steps closer, he held his breath in fear of what being so close to you would make him do. Clark had never been one to be able to control his desires around you, and with your back turned he got a full look of your soft back. As he stood behind you now, one hand worked on the zipper and pulled it up carefully as to not ruin this beautiful piece of clothing. He had to ignore the feeling of your skin under the graze of his fingers, up and up until the zipper was done, and he could close the little latch on top. He could see the little ruptures of goosebumps across your back, and for some reason he was able to play it off cooly when you turned around again. If you had felt anything, he couldn’t see it past your offered smile but then your face changed.

“Oh hold on,” you told him. With another simple nod you turned your back to him and grabbed something from the bed. When you turned back to face him you held a set of heels near in color, and you grasped onto his shoulder and knelt down to slide your foot into one shoe, then face him at a higher level and smiled. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Clark chuckled. You switched the hand that held onto him to balance yourself and moved to put the other shoe on. Clark could almost sense it before it happened, the foot already in a heel wobbled a bit, and he quickly gripped onto your waist to steady yourself. You inhaled sharply, stopping your movements, and you both stared at one another, as if daring one to make a move. Clark slowly took the heel you were still holding from your hand and kneeled down before you. Careful not to shudder at the intimate way he was before you, and your one hand now seemed to tense up around his shoulder, you slowly lifted the slit of your dress to arch your leg for him. Clark gripped onto the soft skin of your calf and ankle and slowly ease your foot into the heel, fighting the urge to follow the curve of your leg up past the material that covered you.

The room held a heavy feeling in it when he straightened back up, now at near equal heights both could see the slight darkness in the other eyes. It was dangerous territory, and luckily before either could make a move they might regret, the sudden burst of the main hotel room door broke them apart. Barry Allen stood gracefully tugging at the clasps on the wrist of his suit.

“Did I miss something?”

These galas were everything you had always loved about your job. With the recent contract signed with a notable client, due to an NDA you couldn’t discuss of course, you were always in search of something spectacular for them. Spectacular pieces were found in spectacular places after all, right?

Tonight was no different. It was easier to be relaxed in a place you had frequented before (you actually had done your internship with this particular company during your undergrad in the city) and though you didn’t know it, any hint of a threat was hidden by Clark. Entering at separate times, when you did catch a glimpse of him he was surveying something, but he seemed to hear your entrance. You offered a slight nod to one another, and as you made your way through the small crowds surrounding pieces of art, you looked around for the Mayor himself.

He seemed liked by the people, like he cared about the city which was a refreshing thing to know given who you knew him as all those years ago. In all honesty, looking at the piece before you kind of reminded you of him. The legacy behind Oliver Queen, that was. It depicted a new beginning, being brought from the darkness and into the light. If that didn’t scream Queen then what did? It also made you wonder while purchasing it, that maybe Bruce wasn’t so far gone as well. You didn’t look back towards the entry until you heard the feverish snaps of cameras and calls from outside, all echoing the same word.

Queen.

Oliver Queen looked near identical from what you could remember in passing. Though he had light traces of a beard and was definitely more muscle now, there was one thing that hadn’t changed. The smile. It dazzled even all the way across the room. You were brought back to the moment when the art curator offered their hand, and you obliged in a simple shake. Once they departed you you grabbed a flute of champagne and sipped on the bubbly drink as you lingered around the outskirts of the room. Soft music rang in your ears, some swaying to the stringed instruments, but you wanted to look around a bit longer. Your eyes gazed over the intricate painting, splashed with green but the figure in the water distorted and lonely.

It made your chest tighten. It was speaking to you directly.

“Covo’s Swimmers would be one of my favorite series of paintings I’ve seen,” a voice said from beside you. You swirled your flute around as the person settled in by your side, letting out a sigh at the tilt of their head. “The lack of distinguishable features really makes you feel it--”

“That it’s you,” you finished the thought. You glanced over at the person who tore their eyes from the painting and greeted you. You smiled a bit before facing them fully. “I didn’t know you were a man of art, Mr. Queen.”

“And I believe we’ve met before,” Oliver offered. “We have haven’t we?”

“Briefly. In passing,” you chuckled a bit. “Though you probably wouldn’t remember me. I was Laurel’s roommate in college.”

He thought for a moment before something seemed to click. You didn’t know if he was playing this off, but if so he was good at it. He was so casual with himself it would’ve fooled anyone. “It was after the fall break right? If I recall correctly I booked it as soon as I heard the crying.”

“Yeah. Yeah you did,” you said lightly.

“I’m sorry,” Oliver offered. But you feverishly shook your head.

“Oh god, no, really it’s fine. Who really wants to hear about hometown boyfriend drama anyway?”

Oliver laughed a bit, and you could see why the people liked him. He was easy going despite his name and title, he just looked to connect with people. If he was the Green Arrow, then you wondered what that looked like. You heard the menacing stories, but for some reason they didn’t line up with who you were talking to right now.

“Are you still living in Star City?” He asked you. You both had moved on, walking shoulder to shoulder and he grabbed a flute of champagne for himself. He occasionally glanced over at you, really engage in what you had to say. But you also couldn’t help but notice Clark linger at every word too in the distance.

“No, I primarily work out of Gotham now,” you explained. “I was in Metropolis for a couple months but--”

“Let me guess,” Oliver cut in. “Someone kept you in Gotham.”

“More like bamboozled me,” you joked. “We aren’t together anymore. But gosh that’s neither here nor there.”

“But you stayed,” Oliver stated. You nodded a bit to yourself before sighing softly.

“I did. Partly because I thought something would work out, and partly because I can’t get out of my lease agreement.”

You tried to make light of the situation, and though you had hoped for more time with him, to try and sprinkle in some kind of notion that you needed to talk to him alone. Another man came to his side, whispering something into Oliver’s ear and when offered a nod, disappeared nearly as quickly as he had shown up. Oliver turned back to you and offered a smile, but also offered a goodbye.

“My apologies but--”

“Duty calls?”

Oliver smiled and nodded. “I’m afraid so, but it was nice to catch up again (Y/N).”

You watched Oliver disappear back to the front, and out the exit before being met again with the flashes of cameras and hollers of his name. You were stuck in your place, not noticing Clark moving around the room but when you both were able to share a gaze at one another, it was as if you shared only one thought.

You didn’t remind Oliver of your name.

Tonight was a bust. You certainly didn’t get what you wanted.

After departing separately, when you had gotten back to the hotel room and slid the key into the lock, you were met with the quiet and emptiness the room had to offer. You set the key down on the table as you entered, the click of your heels radiating against the linoleum floor, as you headed over to the minibar (well it was more like a full sized bar, definitely held more than your average hotel) and poured yourself a glass of bourbon. Though the champagne left you just slightly warmed, you wanted more. As you sipped at the darker liquid you made sure to press the button that closed the blinds on the large windows before setting yourself down on the couch. The fabric of your dress sat nicely on the cushions and you crossed your leg over the other, the slit letting your exposed skin breath. You didn’t have long to wonder what the other two knuckleheads had been up to.

One drink in. That was for Bruce and his dumb little credit card.

Two drinks in. Another one for Bruce and his dumb little credit card and equally dumb Catwoman. You hope they choked.

Three drinks in. Okay maybe not choked. Maybe just hoped that it was not as good as you knew it to be.

Four in? Doesn’t excuse the cheating.

You were on five you think when the door beeped quietly and it was pushed open by Barry, followed by Clark. Barry was talking about something or the other but you couldn’t quite hear him over the rampant thought swirling in your head. The warmth in your chest also helped make his voice a little more garbled as you set the glass cup down on the table, and squint over at them. Barry grabbed his bag from where Bruce had left it and glanced towards the room you had gotten ready in. “I have dibs on the other!”

With his declaration he was gone in a flash and the door was closed shut behind him. You were left alone with Clark who had undone his jacket and placed it over the back of a chair. He surveyed the room before looking over you, and could see the light flush of your cheeks. “How many did you have?”

You tapped your fingers on your thigh and hummed a bit, eyes fluttering shut at the sensation. “Hmm.. Five. But tiny glasses.”

“Tiny glasses, yeah, okay,” Clark said as he picked up the half empty bottle. You smiled sweetly at him and he looked over to the only doors open in the hotel still. “Think we should get you to bed.”

“I think you should leave me be,” you said, nearly immediately followed by a small hiccup. Clark bit the inside of his cheek to not laugh.

“Still can’t hold your liquor huh?”

“Still can’t leave me alone, huh?” You mimicked. Clark rolled his eyes and walked over to you offering his hand.

“Come on,” he said, wiggling his fingers at you. You grumbled in response but took his hand to help you up. You gripped onto his hand as he walked you to your room, but the alcohol didn’t stop you from talking.

“He knew me, Clark! Isn’t that weird? I mean I only knew him from my friend, but we never met met. Y’know? S’all a little weird, hm?”

“Definitely a little weird,” Clark offered you. You hummed happily and eased yourself to sit on the bed. You had easily taken the heels off by yourself, and Clark looked over at your bag, which you took as an offer to grab you something.

“Oo oo can you grab the tank top and black shorts?”

Clark nodded and did as he was asked as you stood from your spot. He laid the pieces of clothing out on the bed and you turned your back to him, and he knew what you were asking. He moved your hair over one shoulder and relished at the fact he got to undress you again. He pulled open the delicate clasp, and managed to get the broken zipper down. Clark didn’t know what to expect, not with the state you were in, but he wasn’t expecting you to let the dress fall to the ground. He watched you turn to grab the clothes he had just seen, the curve of your body he couldn’t seem to forget about, bent over for his full viewing. He could see from the side the perfectly round sides of your breasts and erect nipples, more likely from not only the alcohol but rubbing against the fabric now on the floor. But he also couldn’t help but look over your perfectly round ass, stretched up for his eyes only, and how the fabric of your panties seemed to quench around your pussy.

Clark was in over his head. He thanked someone, anyone, when you were finally covered up, but it didn’t help the dryness in his mouth or the tightness he felt in his core. You pulled your hair out from the shirt and turned back to face him. “Get some rest.”

Clark needed to get out but when he moved towards the door he hadn’t expected you to grab a hold of his hand again. “Where are you going?”

“To sleep on the couch,” he said, turning back to face you. You frowned at him and glanced over his shoulder.

“You wont fit.”

“It’s okay,” he tried to reassure you. He tried to turn away again but you didn’t let him go. You looked over him with curiosity, and shook your head.

“This bed is big enough, Clark,” you said. Your voice didn’t shutter or hold any trace that you weren’t sully aware of what you were offering. Clark looked over your body, and took your other hand in his, giving you a firm squeeze.

“I’ll be fine on the couch,” he repeated. You narrowed your gaze at him, though it didn’t look menacing at all. You were trying to win this fight, and he knew that with a heart like yours, you wouldn’t settle with an oversized man sleeping on a small modern couch like in the other room. Clark wasn’t going to win this battle. He sighed and you smiled. “Okay fine.”

You clapped one of his hands before you finally climbed into the bed. Clark averted his eyes as you crawled up to the top and peeled back the covers, and he had to quickly grab his bag and lock himself in the bathroom. Clark peeled himself out of the formal dress top and fumbled with his own pants. He had to collect himself before going back out there.

Was he acting irrational? Yes, of course. He had only had a few good interactions with you, who was he to feel any kind of attraction towards you like this? Like nothing had ever happened? His mother raised him better than to think he was entitled to anything. Whether that was forgiveness, or especially your body. You deserved better than the rampant thoughts that coursed through his mind. Even if he had seen you so exposed, that didn’t mean you were asking for him to ogle you. Clark caught his breath, made sure the persistent twist in his stomach was gone before he opened the bathroom door and entered the room again.

You were laid down on the side closest to the bathroom, so Clark made sure to close and lock the door to the main room before moving to the other side of the bed. You rolled onto your side as Clark climbed in under the sheets, laying flat on his back as you watched him. He let out a long sigh as his muscles relaxed into the bed. And with one flick of his fingers the lamp on his side was out, enveloping the room in near darkness. The only light that peered in was from the window, peeking under the curtains in a dim light, just enough to where you both could see one another. Clark positioned himself with one arm under his head, the other neatly by his side. But you peered over him and nestled your head into the pillow you laid on.

“Clark?” You asked, and he replied in a small hmm. You hesitated to ask him something, but when he turned to meet your gaze, you smiled a bit and whispered to him. “Can I ask you a dumb question?”

“I’m sure it isn’t dumb,” Clark whispered back. You scoffed a bit, but moved just a tad bit closer to him.

“I mean I’ve read some of the stuff written about you but I never knew if that reporter was right or not--”

“What reporter?” Clark asked. You hummed a bit as if searching your memory before nodding to yourself.

“Louie? Lana?”

“Lois,” Clark breathed. He felt you nod again and he sighed a bit. “What she wrote was right.. She was the uh, woman I was seeing before-”

“Oh,” was all you needed to say before he went too far with the details. You had rolled back onto your back, and Clark felt something drop in his chest. You had pulled away from him. Silence enveloped the two for a couple moments before you spoke again. “What did you find out? When you left I mean.”

“I learned that I’m from a planet called Krypton,” Clark began to explain. “It orbited a Red Star which enhances our powers, but here this sun isn’t as strong, almost poisonous. But since I’ve been here since birth it doesn’t affect me like it could others.”

“The others who came here a few years ago.. They were from your homeworld?”

“Yes,” Clark replied. “They wanted to rebuild Krypton on Earth. I couldn’t allow that to happen. The symbol.. It stands for hope. And what’s hope is you’re eradicating people from their own homes?”

“When I read the stories about Superman, before seeing any pictures I knew it was you.. Deep down,” you smiled to yourself in the dark. “I was happy you found what you were looking for.. But honestly I was jealous.”

“Jealous?”

“Mhm,” you offered. “You figured out your purpose.. Not everyone gets to figure that out.”

“You don’t think you have a purpose?”

You shrugged your shoulders. “I don’t really know.. I think about it sometimes, now more than ever y’know? You’re a literal superhero, Diana is a goddess, Barry is not only a genius but also a superhero, and Bruce, as angry as I am with him.. He’s a genius. A philanthropist.. He can enact change. Even that woman you mentioned got to help save the world from what I recall.. What have I ever done?”

Clark didn’t even think about the fact that Louis had been able to tell her story about helping him defeat Zod in some way. He never thought about how that would have settled in your mind, someone he told he wanted to protect from that life only to then throw someone else into it. But seeing it plant this seed of doubt in your mind made him roll over to face you.

“You stood up for the alien boy without even realizing it because it was the right thing to do. You became his friend and his rock through the most turbulent years of his life, when all he wanted was to make it all stop, but you always showed up at the right time. You let him be him. And you stuck with him through his stupid phases, and never forgot who he was and who you always thought he was going to be.. You graduated as Smallville’s valedictorian, and top of your program at your university.. Now you work at the most flourishing company in Gotham City. All that? All of that was because of you.

“And now you’re risking your life for others.. Call me crazy but that’s what a hero does.”

Clark had watched your face in the dark. The shock that wrinkled at the corner of your eyes when he spoke about his own dark thoughts. You had rolled over to face him, offering a shake of your head. “I-I didn’t know--”

“I didn’t want you to know,” Clark cut you off. He instinctively brought his thumb up to wipe the small tear that had slipped down your cheek. “All I ever wanted was for you to live your life without worrying about me. Nothing I do or say can make up for making you feel.. Less than what you are. But fuck I regretted it everyday.”

He could see your eyes flash over him with his words. The slight tilt of your head as you brought your own hand up to his cheek, your fingers glided over his skin until your thumb rubbed at the slight stubble of his chin. Clark felt as if he was holding his breath, but when you moved in closer all the tension in his body evaporated.

You ghosted over his lips for a second, allowing him the chance to stop it. But Clark was almost all too eager to close that gap and taste the hint of vanilla dancing on your lips. It was a slow and tender kiss, allowing one another to gauge themselves, which was needed on both accounts amongst all the thoughts in their minds. It was short lived, the two figures letting their lips detach and taking another glance at one another. Their breaths mingled as one, the darkness hid the flush in your cheeks, and Clark’s hand trailed down to grip onto your waist, and then your lips were on his again. This time everything was more aggressive, your fingers had entangled themselves into his hair, and he dug his fingers into your hip, any tighter and he would more than likely leave a beautiful bruise.

The thought Clark had all came rushing back as you had moved to close the gap between the two. Clark tilted your hip in just a way that forced you to arch your leg up a bit. The feverish kisses grew more rough and sloppy, mouths parting and tongues slipping against one another that when you pressed against him he wasn’t ready. You rolled him over to his back, pulling yourself along with him as your legs wrapped perfectly across his waist. Clark could feel you settle on him, his cock tenting up beneath you and stretching against what he could feel was that pretty little pussy he remembered. He twitched at the idea that this may really be happening, that he may be blessed enough to feel your clenched walls around him, but the throbbing made you pull away for a second.

On top of him you looked him over with wonder, and caution. Your hands trailed down his chest, and your fingers dug into his shirt and tugged on the fabric. Clark sat up, arm snug around your waist as he slid himself backwards to rest against the headboard. You still sat on his lip, perfectly elevated by his grip on you. His hands traced up the length of your back, fingers gliding the fabric of your shirt up and over your head, which you let him toss to the side. When his hands traced back down the curve of your upper body, his thumbs rubbed over your rough nipples, which earned him a small gasp. The cool air did you no favours, and as if to pay him back for the sudden pleasure, you grabbed a hold of his shoulder, and deliciously rolled your hips against him.

Clark groaned a bit, much to your satisfaction. He could only imagine what it would have felt like to feel you closer. He wondered if you would be as brave with your movements. You took your chance when he was distracted and lifted his shirt above his head, going over every glorious detail of his chiseled body. Clark ran his hands down to your waist, and you moved in time with him and lifted yourself up slightly to get your shorts off. He gripped a hold of your ass with one arm, and pulled his own pants down and kicked them off. Clark was left in his boxers, his cock eager to be released, and you readjusted yourself only left in those silky panties on top of him. Clark could feel the wetness seep through the soft fabric and press against him and he inhaled sharply. He could just make out the smirk on your face when you rolled yourself against him again. He guessed you were just as brave even with nearly nothing on.

With each roll of your hips he could feel his cock press against your folds. You pressed into him at just the right angle not only for yourself but for him, and Clark was falling apart beneath you because of it. His lips fell and encaptured your nipple, and his nibbled on the soft skin. You let out a quiet moan, and rested a hand behind you on his leg, and rolled your hips against him sharply. Clark in turn nibbled on your other breast, his free hand pulled you against him roughly. Tensions were at all time high, he was ready to flip you over and relish those sweet juices he could feel through your panties when a knock at the door sent you both scattering. You had flopped back beside him and hidden under the covers, and Clark took a second to fix himself when another knock was heard. “Are you guys awake?”

“What is it Barry?” Clark called out, doing his best to hide the irritation in his voice. He glanced over at you who smiled a bit and watched your eyes flutter shut.

“I just got super hungry, are you guys up for Big Belly Burger?”

“No, Barry, that’s-that’s alright,” Clark replied. He listened as the speedster grabbed his things and left the hotel. With a relieved sigh Clark laid back into the bed, and glanced your way. You had managed to pass out, probably the alcohol finally catching up to you. But he didn’t mind. It took him awhile but eventually his body calmed down, his mind following soon after, and right before he had fallen asleep completely, you had rolled over back into him. And as if instinct he enveloped you under his arm.

They could deal with this another day.

- - - - - - - - - -

this is the old tag list y’all I cannot believe im doing this to you, if you wanna be removed just let me know but I think its updated correctly, if I missed you pls lemme know!

@panic-angel3314 @dutifullyfuriousnerd @mrsemmaevanswriting@fourtristattoos@offlikeadirty-shirt@barrel-racing-lover @sexyvixen7 @bless-my-demons @sarcastic-ohohoh @whovianayesha  @my-dccomic-dreams @hellomistressj @avengersgirllorianna@spunky-89@dammitkyloben@topthis808 @theboldandthebootyful@andtheytoldustotellyouhello@amandakwoodstock @brooke-supernatural16@kissingwintergoodbye@missthang2734 @random-fandom-lady@supernaturaldean67@crimesolversherlock​ @lunaticgurly @sweetiele-ash @alwayshave-faith​ @fightforspring​ @tweedlydumbtweedlydoo​ @starrybounds​ @chewymoustachio​ @blackrockshooter780​ @cheeseman​

#clark kent #clark kent x reader #clark kent x you #superman #superman x reader #man of steel #man of steel x reader #man of steel fic #Clark Kent fic #superman fic #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x you #you again

[artificialqueens]

Justify My Love (Gigi x Jan) - Joley

ao3 link

It had started out as a completely innocuous comment during Untucked. Jackie and Jan had been talking about their time going out to bars and clubs in Manhattan, and more specifically, how Jan approached dating and hooking up when he was single.

“I swear, Jan has like a sixth sense, a bottom superpower or something. She can, without fail, always pick out the tops in a crowd. Sometimes it’s top-leaning verses, but it’s still a talent,” Jackie was saying with Jan nodding happily in agreement.

The other queens looked at her with curiosity. “So what about here? Are your top senses tingling?” Crystal asked curiously.

“Not with you,” Jan retorted with a laugh. “I mean I know Jaida is, I got those vibes from Nicky too, and obviously we have Miss Dom Top Girl Bye over here,” she gestured to Heidi. “Um… Yeah, am I forgetting anyone?”

Gigi cleared her throat pointedly, and Jan looked at her with sincere surprise. “What? Don’t look at me like that. I prefer topping. Is it that surprising?”

Jan strummed her fingers against her glass. “I mean… kinda, especially after I throttled you across the set. Honestly, you give off more ‘bossy bottom’ vibes, like Jackie.”

“Hey!” Jackie chimed in with a laugh.

“You know it’s true,” Jan cooed before redirecting her attention to Gigi. “No but really, if you’re a top, you’re a top. The sixth sense isn’t foolproof.”

The conversation tapered off after that, but the whole exchange was stewing with Gigi, who was simply unsatisfied with the result. It shouldn’t have continued to nag at her the way it did. It shouldn’t have still been lingering when they were nearing the end of the last episode. “Do I really give off bottom vibes?” she asked Jackie.

Jackie looked at her, perplexed. In the time since, she’d completely forgotten the exchange until Gigi jogged her memory. “Are you talking about what Jan said?”

“Yeah…”

“I guess I get what she meant. You can sometimes come off a little bratty, could be where she drew that conclusion,” she shrugged. “Is that really still bothering you?”

Gigi shifted uncomfortably. “It’s just that it’s totally inaccurate!” she insisted.

Jackie furrowed her brows. “Why are you so concerned with what Jan thinks?” She studied Gigi’s reaction – the red face, the averted gaze – she only had one conclusion to draw. “Do you… have a crush on Jan?” She didn’t let the younger queen answer. “Oh my god, you do! That’s so cute!” She cupped her face. “Aw, my sweet baby Geege,” she cooed.

Gigi swatted her hands away. “Knock it off, I don’t need that shit spreading around. Doesn’t she have a boyfriend, anyway?”

The enthusiasm immediately left Jackie’s face. She felt bad for not having thought about that, and embarrassed, considering all the double dates they’d been on. “Right, right, sorry. But hey, don’t get too down about it. Stranger things have happened.”

–––

Gigi had thought her feelings would dissipate with time. They weren’t around each other all the time, she was constantly busy. It should be out of sight, out of mind, right? And maybe it might’ve been the case, if it weren’t for the fateful text she got from Jaida one November night.

‘Did Jackie tell you Jan and her boyfriend broke up?’

Of course Jaida found out from Jackie, she thought. ‘No, when did that happen?’

‘A few days ago, Jan’s crashing on Jackie’s couch until she can lock down a new place. Said she’s been busy helping or she’d tell you herself. Apparently it’s important that you know.’

Gigi turned red at that, hiding her face in her pillows and letting out a groan until she could collect herself. ‘Did she say anything else?’

‘Yeah: I told you so’

She rolled her eyes. “I told you so,” she mocked to herself. Leave it to Jackie to be a gossip and a know-it-all. Still, the next thing she did was check her calendar, hoping she would be in New York sometime very soon.

As it turned out, ‘very soon’ ended up being about ten days. And Gigi thought that was enough time, especially if she did decide to do anything. But even though there was a part of her trying to talk himself out of it, the rest of her had been drowned in the same feelings she had on set, and she knew that crush hadn’t dissipated in the slightest.

It didn’t help that most of Jan’s instagram feed was post-breakup thirst trap pictures. It had caught Gigi off guard, but she certainly wasn’t complaining, nor was she planning on deleting the screenshots of those photos from her phone anytime soon. Beyond that, she refused to show even the slightest drop of nerves when she got to New York. She was going to be the confident Gigi Goode everyone knew and nothing less. And she was going to make certain Jan knew exactly how much of a top she was by the time she went back to Los Angeles.

Once in the hotel, Gigi took a quick shower and changed into a clean outfit that was far more fashionable than the sweats and oversized hoodie she’d arrived in. After writing and rewriting a text a few times, she asked Jan if she wanted to go out to a club, and to her relief, she got an enthusiastic ‘yes’ in reply.

Gigi was expecting to meet Jan at the club, but just as she finished getting ready, he got a text from Jan asking for her hotel room number.

“Hey, I missed you!” Jan greeted warmly when Gigi opened the door. She hugged her tightly, liking the way the other queen seemed to melt into his arms.

“I missed you too. How’ve you been?” Gigi asked as she ushered her inside. “You’re all settled into the new place, right?”

Jan nodded, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I have. It’s the first time I’m living alone and… honestly, it’s freeing. It’s nice, but a little lonely,” she admitted.

Gigi nodded and sat beside her. “Well, you won’t be lonely while I’m here. I’m going to annoy you incessantly until you’re ready to dropkick me back to LA,” she nudged him lightly.

“You could never annoy me,” Jan cooed and wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer. “Well… maybe not never, but I’m still happy you’re here.”

Gigi had forgotten how physically affectionate Jan was, it had been a bit jarring at first. She had grown up with everyone keeping themselves at arms length, and normally that was how she liked things. But Jan was a hugger, a kisser, everything Gigi normally couldn’t stand, but somehow Jan was the exception. “I’m happy I’m here too.”

“And…” Jan pulled back to reach into his bag, “I thought we could do a little pregaming before we go out,” she set the bottle of vodka and cans of soda she’d gotten from the vending machine on the table.

“You’re the best,” she grinned as they fixed themselves drinks. “Cheers, to not being lonely tonight,” and they clinked their plastic cups and took long sips.

Jan took another sip and sat back down. “What’ve you been up to? Still a top?” she teased.

Gigi bit back a grin, this was just the segue she’d been hoping for. “I sure am. Still doubting me?”

“That really stuck with you, huh?” Jan chuckled. “I thought I saw it get under your skin a little bit,” she took Gigi’s hand, swinging it aimlessly. “Not still mad at me, are you?”

“Oh, I was never mad at you,” she assured, then sat straddling Jan’s lap. “But you have to understand that I can’t just let you be wrong like that,” she added, running her fingers through Jan’s hair. All the nerves she had come in with seemed to have vanished, and she let her lust and desire take control of her words and actions.

Jan seemed just as interested, brow raised and arms looped around Gigi’s waist. “Yeah? You’re gonna show me how much of a top you are, Geege?”

Gigi put two fingers under Jan’s chin and tilted her head up. “Honey, that’s only the tip of the iceberg. Is that why you wanted to come here first? Wanted to see if I’d fuck you? There’s no need to play games, you know. You could’ve just asked.”

“But where’s the fun in that?” Jan bat her lashes innocently.

So this was how she was going to play? Gigi smirked, not minding a bit. She grabbed Jan by her shirt and pulled her into a heated kiss. Her tongue slipped past Jan’s lips, swirling and wrestling it in a battle of dominance that she knew she was going to win. When she needed to come up for air, it was never more than a few seconds at a time before she eagerly dove back in, until finally she rested their foreheads together as she caught her breath. “Shit, do you have any idea of all the things I wanna do to you? Wanna fucking ruin you.”

“Please…” Jan’s voice was soft and breathy, but filled with an undeniable need that sent a thrill up Gigi’s spine.

And Gigi simply couldn’t leave it at that. “Please what?”

“Please fuck me, ruin me, take me like I know you’ve wanted to,” the words were spilling out too fast for Jan to realize she had admitted to knowing how Gigi felt about her at first. But she knew Gigi wasn’t one to talk about feelings, so she hoped that would be overlooked.

Gigi was, in fact, more than willing to overlook it. She just kissed Jan deeply, biting her bottom lip and slowly pulling back. “I don’t know how rough you like it, like… Will we need a safe word?”

Jan’s brows rose in interest, her hands splayed across Gigi’s thighs. “That’s exactly the kind of rough I like,” she purred.

“So, what’s your safe word?”

“Madonna.”

“Jan, too soon!”

Jan scoffed in mock offense. “How is it too soon for you?” She then giggled, hiding her face against Gigi’s neck until she could collect herself. “Sorry, sorry. I’ll just tell you to stop.”

Gigi got off of Jan and pushed her down onto the bed. “You’re ridiculous. Take your fucking clothes off.”

“Oooh, yes Daddy,” Jan purred, taking interest in Gigi’s firm tone. But she paused after she took her shirt off, tilting her head. “Or… Mommy?” She looked to Gigi for clarification.

“Doesn’t matter, Daddy’s fine,” she assured, then smirked. “Now go on, Daddy didn’t tell you to stop,” she gestured to the fact that Jan was still dressed from the waist down.

Jan breathed out an apology and quickly stripped down, then pushed herself up to her knees to undress Gigi as well.

“So eager,” Gigi chuckled, lifting her arms up so Jan could take her shirt off. “So desperate to get fucked, aren’t you?” she cooed as she kicked off her jeans and underwear, pinning Jan underneath her on the bed once they were both naked. “You might not have had me figured out, but I knew you were a greedy little whore,” she attacked Jan’s neck with kisses and bites, leaving marks from the base of her jaw to her collarbone. She sat back, straddling Jan’s waist and gently raking her pointed, manicured nails down Jan’s chest.

Jan felt goosebumps spread down her arms, breath hitching in her throat. Gigi’s gaze bore down into her soul, sending electricity coursing through her body. She always found Gigi to be beautiful, she’d always been attracted to her, but something about seeing her at this angle, gazing up at her – she looked ethereal, and Jan couldn’t help but melt under her touch.

Gigi wrapped her hand around Jan’s dick, stroking lazily as she looked around. “I take it you brought lube and a condom?” she asked, only letting go and getting off of Jan so she could retrieve it. “Of course you did, slut,” she smirked and snatched the bottle from her hand. “On your back, legs up and apart.”

Jan laid back, propping pillows behind her to give Gigi an easier angle to work with.

“You’re so pretty like this, on display for me,” Gigi mused as she slicked her fingers up with lube and sat on the back of her legs, positioned between Jan’s thighs. Her free hand kept a steady grip on Jan’s hip as she eased a finger into her, waiting a moment before starting to thrust.

“Fuck…” Jan grunted softly, arching towards Gigi as her eyes fluttered shut.

Gigi landed a firm smack of disapproval on Jan’s inner thigh. “Don’t you take your eyes off of me,” she hissed as she worked in a second finger.

Jan whimpered softly, but kept her head up and eyes on Gigi, which was a sight she really had no complaints about. She gasped out when Gigi twisted her fingers in just the right way. “Fuck, fuck right there.”

“That the spot, baby?” Gigi didn’t wait for an answer before thrusting her fingers against it several times over.

“Yes, yes, fuck, Gigi, please,” Jan panted, all but fucking herself on her fingers.

She smirked, slowing her thrusts to a halt. “Please what?”

“Please fuck me. Fuck, I need your cock, Daddy. Want you to fuck me so hard, I’m still feeling it when you’re on your way back to LA,” Jan was shamelessly vocal with her pleading, already aching for more.

And Gigi looked down at her, listening to the desperation in her tone and, to be honest, she would’ve given her anything in the world. But there was no way she would’ve given Jan the satisfaction of knowing that. Instead, she eased her fingers out and grabbed the condom, tearing it open with her teeth and rolling it down her length.

Jan quietly studied Gigi’s naked form. She didn’t expect such a lithe, little twink to be hung like that. She never noticed on set, most of the time she spent around Gigi, she was thinking about strangling her or tossing her across the room again. Perhaps it was those spiteful feelings that compelled Jan to seek her out – it was the best way to hash out months old tension as far as she was concerned.

And while Gigi’s frustration with Jan had stemmed from something completely different, it didn’t make her desire to fuck Jan senseless any less potent. She grabbed one of the pillows and propped it up under Jan’s back, hooking her legs over her shoulders as well. She carefully lined herself up and pushed in, letting out a quiet stream of curses until she bottomed out.

Jan’s eyes were blown wide with lust, the heat of arousal over taking her. She felt like she was on fire without the slightest urge to put it out. It took a moment for her to realize Gigi was waiting for her to give a sign that she was ready to continue, so she nodded eagerly.

Gigi began thrusting instantly, starting slow at first, but quickly picking up the pace. “Look at you, taking my cock so well. This what you wanted, baby? To get fucked like the dirty little slut you are?” She wasn’t satisfied with Jan nodding, so she grabbed her jaw and leaned in close. “Answer me.”

“Yes! Yes, fuck, it feels so good,” Jan moaned out sharply.

“Good boy,” Gigi hummed and moved back upright, thrusts becoming harder until she was fucking her at a brutal pace that was almost beyond her control. Her hips snapped forward at an almost animalistic speed. She couldn’t get enough, and neither could Jan.

It was when Jan started squirming against her that Gigi decided to pay her more attention. She wrapped her hand around Jan’s cock, her hand still slick from the lube. “Gonna make you come for me, baby doll, gonna have you screaming my name.”

Jan’s moans were already loud and guttural, reminding both of them that Jan did make her living off of vocalizing. “God, fuck, Gigi, I’m so close, gonna come…” But there was a tinge of hesitation.

It hit Gigi after a beat – Jan was waiting for her permission, and the way she had gotten her so utterly submissive made Gigi moan. “Go on, come for me,” she goaded, thrusts slowing down a bit so she could properly watch and appreciate the sight. “God, that’s fucking hot. Gonna make me come,” she murmured, slamming forward a few more times before stopping, an idea forming.

Jan whined softly, but she was still coming down from riding out her orgasm. Still, she looked at Gigi as if to ask, ‘what gives?’.

Instead of a verbal answer, Gigi pulled herself out. She got up to discard the condom and sat back down on the side of the bed. “On your knees,” she said, then snapped, “now.”

Jan pushed herself up and off the bed, sinking down to her knees between Gigi’s legs. She didn’t need any further instruction from there – she took Gigi’s cock into her mouth and began bobbing her head.

Gigi allowed it for a moment before grabbing onto Jan’s hair, which immediately got the other queen’s attention. She began bucking her hips forward, slowly at first, to make sure Jan was okay. And after a nod of approval, she went ahead with fucking her throat.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, Jan had incredible breath control and no gag reflex, so she was able to comfortably stay still while Gigi continued thrusting her dick in and out of her mouth.

When Gigi came, she held Jan’s head in place, moaning out wantonly as she came down her throat, then slowly eased out. She swiped the come dribbling down the side of Jan’s mouth with her thumb and licked it off.

Silence followed for a few moments as Jan pushed herself up and got back on the bed. “Well,” she started, “I guess I was wrong. You’re definitely a top.”

“Mm, say it again,” Gigi cooed. “Wait, actually don’t, hearing you say you were wrong is just gonna get me hard again,” she laughed.

Jan tossed a pillow at her. “You’re a little fucking bitch,” she snorted.

“A little fucking bitch that made you scream,” she corrected, shifting to lay beside Jan. “We’re not going out to the club, are we?”

“Nah,” Jan decided, wrapping her arm around her. “I’ll just listen to you talk about how wrong I was until you’re ready to fuck me again.”

#rpdr fanfiction #gigi goode #jan sport #gigi x jan #smut #canon compliant #joley #s12 #on set fic

[highfunctioningflailgirl]

Whumptober No. 1

No.1 Let’s hang out sometime

Prompts: #1 hanging #21 hypothermia

 Stop staring at me.

 Strike gave the carcass hanging next to him a hateful look. Dangling from a chain on a meat hook, just like the detective, the dead pig’s empty eye sockets were on one level with Strike’s eyes, and he gave an involuntary shudder. Kicking his legs, he rotated away from the grim sight - only to be met by a likewise eviscerated gaze on the other side. This pig, its slashed throat gaping, seemed to be grinning at him.

 I’m starting to hallucinate, Strike called himself to order. The fucking cold.

At least the sub-zero temperatures in the butcher’s shop had eventually numbed the pain in his wrists. In fact, he could no longer feel his hands or the blood trickling down his forearms into the sleeves of his coat. The chain had bitten into his skin, and his efforts at freeing himself had only made things worse. When he looked up, his hands were two puffy and bluish appendages that seemed to have nothing to do with him anymore.

 He could still feel his shoulders, though. Both joints felt as if they were about to pop, muscles and tendons screaming, and a burning sensation was fanning across his ribcage. Breathing was becoming increasingly difficult, as the relentless pull on his chest muscles widened his ribcage, rendering each inhalation more shallow than the former. Dazedly, Strike wondered what would happen first: dislocation or suffocation. At least the latter would be painless.

  “Fuckin’ hell,” he swore feebly.

 Below him, on the tiled floor, the cracked screen of his mobile phone lit up as it vibrated with an incoming call. Chin on his chest, he could make out the caller ID.

 Robin.

 He’d lost count how many times she’d already tried to reach him, and he’d run out of ideas of how to try and get down from this bloody meat hook and answer her call. Straddling the carcass closest to him to hoist himself up and off the hook hadn’t worked due to his false right foot. Without the benefit of a full calf muscle, he just couldn’t dig the artificial heel into the meat deep enough to create leverage. And although his disability had resulted in solid upper body strength, he was too heavy to swing himself up and slip the chain off the hook. 

 Shouting for help would have been useless. The butcher’s shop had been closed for the night, pitted into darkness safe for a few security lights when they’d strung him up and left him to die. Bitterly, Strike’s gaze slid to the industrial grinder on the other side of the room. Disposing of his corpse would not be a problem once he’d frozen into a six-foot-four popsicle. 

Below him, the phone was buzzing again, and, once more, Robin’s call went to voicemail after thirty seconds of ringing. His partner knew something was wrong. Otherwise, she wouldn’t keep ringing him.

 Call Wardle, he sent her a telepathic message across London. Get him to locate my phone by GPS.

 Once again, he cursed himself for turning off the search function for his mobile in the settings. He kept it deactivated for security reasons, of course, not wanting to risk getting followed or giving his position away to anyone who had an interest in him. Robin would’ve been smart enough to log into his account and ping his GPS. But he’d cut that safety rope.

 Stupid.

 Groaning, he pulled himself upward a little to draw a deeper breath. His arms shook with the effort, and when he dropped down again, unable to hold himself up for longer than a few seconds, something in his shoulder gave with a sharp snap. He yowled, eyes watering from the pain.

 “Ahh, shit, Christ!” He cursed, his breath billowing in a white cloud. The pain was bad, zinging through his arm and upper back, somehow even more pronounced by the cold. He clenched his teeth and tried to breathe through it, to let his good arm take more of his weight, but he’d run out of strength, and he couldn’t draw enough of the icy air into his lungs to fuel his stiff muscles. In spite of himself, he felt a few tears spill down his cheeks, hot on his cold skin. 

 Come on, Robin, he pleaded. Come on!

 He could imagine her in a patrol car with Wardle, shouting at the policeman to drive faster, her Yorkshire accent thick with urgency, her face pink and bright eyes flashing as she kept dialing his number. She would still be wearing the workout clothes she’d had on this morning to follow Fitbit, as she’d dubbed the mark of their current case: skin-tight black leggings and a matching top that hugged her curves in just the right places, and a baseball hat to cover her memorable hair, tied back in a ponytail. The smell of her hair - he remembered it, would never forget after he’d buried his nose in it at her wedding. 

 Roses. 

 As the pain seemed to settle at a level he could manage - if he stayed still, hanging limply from his hook - he noticed that his fear was lessening. It wasn’t a good sign. Exhaustion was turning into sleepiness, and he had stopped shivering at some point. The grey shapes of the machinery and the cutting tables around him seemed to blur further in the darkness. 

 Oxygen deprivation? Hypothermia? Probably both.

 Strike blinked and forced himself to stay awake. He wasn’t ready to give in yet. Not while there was still a chance that he could hug her again. Inhale that scent. And, this time, not let her go. 

 Silver spots were beginning to flicker in the dusk. Pixels, dancing in the cold like fireflies. Strike’s head swam as he sucked in another breath. His shoulder answered with a stab that traveled all the way to his sternum. His heart gave a sudden jolt before returning to its slowing throb. The room began to slowly spin around him. Strike felt his eyelids grow heavy and the cold air crystallize in his nostrils. 

 Breathe. Stay… awake…

 He did. For another few minutes, another hour - who knew? But the pain eventually gave way to unexpected warmth. A comfortable coziness lured him in and embraced him, and all of a sudden he thought that this was easy… letting go… and his eyes slid closed… 

 Roses.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~

 Disinfectant. 

 The smell was almost overpowering when he woke, and flashbacks cascaded through his mind as he blinked his eyes open, heart racing.

 Afghanistan. Helmand. The Viking.

 Roses.

 “Hey.”

 Robin sat by his bed, hair glinting red-gold in the neon lights of what had to be a hospital room. The sight anchored him immediately.

 “Hey,” he croaked back, gathering his bearings while bloody memories faded back into the desert they had sprung from. 

 “How are you feeling?” Robin gave him a soft smile.

 “I don’t know,” he said hoarsely, looking down at himself and shifting to gauge the condition he was in. “Have I lost any more parts?”

 “Fortunately, you haven’t.” Robin’s smile was a bit shaky. “But it was a close call.”

 She pointed at his hands. Both wrists were bandaged, and his fingers were swollen and had a bluish tint. When he tried to curl them into fists, they felt stiff, and pain flared up in his right shoulder.

 “Oh, you shouldn’t do that,” Robin said apologetically as Strike, hissing, clutched his right arm and the sling it was settled in. “You tore a few things in your shoulder, and they couldn’t do the surgery yet. They wanted to wait until your body temperature had returned to normal.”

 Strike gritted his teeth. “Fantastic.” 

 Now that Robin mentioned it, he noticed the steady warmth emanating from a heating blanket they’d stuck underneath him and some sort of probe taped to his chest, apparently relaying his thawing status to a monitor next to the bed. From the number he could make out, he was still a little below par. Which might explain the chill he felt crawling through his limbs.

 “Who… who got me out of there?” Strike asked. He didn’t have any memory of a rescue.

 Robin’s eyes turned serious. “Wardle and I did. Traced your phone and got there just in time. You… you were barely breathing when we found you. And you were so cold, I thought…” She trailed off, shuddering at the memory, and Cormoran felt his heart clench.

 “Cormoran,” she said quietly, “would you do me a favour?”

 Of course he would. Anything.

 “What?”

 “Would you turn your bloody phone search app on?!” 

 Strike blinked, swimming in sudden warmth and a bit of pain and feeling grateful and like a guilty bastard at the same time.

 “Yeah,” he replied softly and held Robin’s furious, watery gaze. “Yeah. I will.”

__________________________________________

(This story is also posted on AO3, here.)

#whumtpber 2020 #whumptober #strike whumptober #fan fiction #cormoran strike

[ellipsesarefun]

DAMIRAE DAY 5: Soulbond

A/N: SO THIS CAME OUT OF NOWHERE I SWEAR HAHHAHAAH. It’s probs the coffee talking but damn. Finished this baby todaaayyy after reviewing for a subject (and damn is this a weird day because writing and studying feels like two different worlds) so this will be queued to post on the 14th or 15th? Maybe I’m too excited but it’s been awhile since I’ve been excited to write something.. Been awhile since I’ve used 1st POV. This is probs a bit messy :( But I’ll edit some stuff out someday..

May not be participating anymore but I hope to come back to DamiRae <3 It’s been a comfort to me during my study breaks.

------

There are some things about my magic that I cannot fully comprehend nor explain. 

Ever since I’ve healed the young Robin, I’ve been receiving vivid dreams. I can’t fully grasp the images but the emotions that wake me to reality are always filled with heartaches, pining, and desperation. I never bothered to clue anyone in on what they are. Kory knows I have dreams but I can never tell her what happens in them because I don’t know how to describe them.. Damian has his ways of knowing. The little bird never lets me forget that. But he never asked, just implied. And I never said anything, merely let him draw his own conclusions.

I’ve been harboring feelings for him for a long time but I never acted on them for a number of reasons... Sometimes, we were romantically and sexually involved with other people. Other times, there never seemed to be a time and place to voice it out on the open. The moments we spent alone meditating, reading together, flying during my nightly rituals are the moments I cherish too much to let him feel my burden.

But out of all the reasons I've expounded, My father is the center. Even when I have created an enchanted fortress created out of his and my own demonic magic (with the help of Constantine and Zatanna), I still fear that he may one day break through those chains and destroy Earth... and kill Damian. Trigon senses the bond between us and it disgusts him.

His insults hit right through my own insecurities. I mean technically, he is trapped in crystal that’s stored in a small box that I carry around but damnit there are times when his thoughts crowd over to mine and... it terrifies me.

The mechanics of the bond isn’t the “if he dies, then I die too” but more of “I feel his presence more than I let on”. I still have no idea if it also might be the former, but the latter is one that I experience often. I don't always know what he is feeling (I may be an Empath but I have my mental barriers to maintain). It's only when he's in danger do my senses burn right through my barriers. It probably comes with this strong sense of protectiveness within me, a desperate need to keep him safe... and it’s becoming a little too obvious.

Throughout the six years as Titans, training with Damian has gradually become a torture... Every urge to shot turns into every urge to shield him from the pain... Every scar he receives fuels my anger against those who dare to hurt him, especially the enemies we’ve faced during missions and/or patrol. 

The last one was worse. I arrived at the scene with him on the floor, body tainted with bruises and then..

I saw him on the floor.. suddenly burnt into ashes.. face barely recognizable... I heard my screams of agony, despair, and heartbreak as I watched my other self enveloping him in what seems a spell..

I love you...

And it wasn’t a dream but a memory... It all felt so real, like I was in Apokolips (what the hell is Apokolips?) once more and the Earth has crumbled to its fucked up state and he was gone and I needed to save him (from what?)...

I didn’t even stop to comprehend what it was and I lost my control. 

AZARATH. METRION. ZINTHOS!

...

I blacked out, I think, and now I find myself back in the infirmary of the Titans Tower. Not a single glimpse of a sunlight reached the room and nothing stands out from the dark except a figure sitting beaide me.

"Hi." Is the only greeting I offered. Damian stands and turns the lights back on. He sits back down, burning holes into my skull. I squint at the brightness and immediately force myself to focus at some place that isn't him.. I couldn't bare to look at him.

I hear a sigh but I let my gaze linger at the clock far longer than I liked, matching my breaths with the ticks and tocks of the arrows of the clock. His agitation prickles at my senses like a thorn to my side. The damned urge to come and wrap him in my arms gradually resurfaces once more. 

He clears his throat just in time, like he already knew what I was thinking and I look down, hoping he doesn’t notice the heat pooling my cheeks. 

“Look,” he says and I pause my train of thought, “You and I both know there’s more to this that letting your demon lose and almost killing Dr. Light, so let’s not beat around the bush.” I couldn’t look at him, I just can’t bear to.. But I nodded, just so he knows that I’m taking his words seriously (and I always do)..

I might as well tell him..

“I’ve been having nightmares ever since the first time I healed you.” There’s movement from my periphery but I ignore it, “Of you.. dying...” Silence is his only answer so I continued.

“It wasn’t that bad at first but through years it’s been difficult to fight this desire to protect you all the time.” I haven’t reached the most important part yet and I’m already feeling the rising tension in the air. He holds up a hand, and I wait for him to speak as I try to calm my heartbeat. 

“Raven, I was trained by the League of the Assassins. I know how to handle myself-” 

“I know you do, Damian.” I cut him off, hearing my voice rise a bit,

(And I realize later that he didn't need to say this because damnit the smart ass saw right through me. He only did so to bait me into confessing.)

“But these aren’t nightmares.. not really. They’re from another timeline.” I let out a sigh. This conversation is beginning to exhaust me but he needs to know. I turn to him this time and he’s not holding back his own concern etched on his face. He gets up from his chair and sits at the edge of my bed. My gaze drifts to his hand. I remember a lingering feeling, probably from another memory of that timeline, that he’d reach out and hold my hand in his. 

“There was a war.. We were around at this age..” I continue, “We were trying to stop someone and... you died in the process. I revived you.. brought you back from the dead.” I watch him watch me. Not a single gasp was uttered nor any ounce of surprised was showed on his face. I didn’t sense any of that. There was so much I can pick from that unreadable frown. 

Longing, concern, understanding.. and it’s only occurred to me that he knows. He’s known this whole time. I was too engrossed to what he felt and what Trigon may do that I didn’t stop to read through his actions. But does he...

No.. I shouldn't ask... not when I haven't laid all the cards out..

"We have a bond.. sort of." I say, and he nods, confirming of his own assumptions, "But I'm not sure if this will get us killed. So far the pain inflicted on you does not mean I receive the same kind of pain. It just fuels my drive to protect you."

"And you think that this was a result from our previous affections to one another in that timeline." He concludes.

"We never really spent time together as... together." I say. It feels out of the blue but something about what I said needed to be heard, "You left for the League of Assassins. You offered me a place there because you had feelings for me. I would have went with you if Trigon hadn't threatened me to kill you if I stayed..."

I face him, feeling this odd confidence swelling within me. "I do still have feelings for you. And Trigon still wants to kill you so.. that hasn't changed.." 

There is a slight elation and giddiness within me as I catch a mixture of bewilderment and amusement on his features. But my heart begins to soar as I watch a tiny, tender smile drawn by his lips.

I've seen that smile before.. a couple of times. There were only glimpses of that smile during our many glances throughout the years, hidden beneath the layers of his mask.

And now the last of his mask has finally come off.

"Raven," he says and I feel the tingle in my ears at the sound of my name, "You should know by now that my perseverance exceeds the fear of being devoured by demonic conquerer of worlds."

I frown at him. "You sound so sure of yourself..."

"You've defeated him twice, Raven." He reasons, "In this timeline and probably in other timelines. You were lucky, you say, but now.. you're--no, we're, more than four times as lucky."

"Damian.. where is this all coming from?" I ask, because he makes it sound so simple. Like he's up against merely a strict father who wouldn't let his daughter marry the person she loves in those cheesy romcoms. But this isn't a romcom. This is Trigon, for Azar's sake..

"He isn't called a Conquerer of Worlds for no reason!"

"And that doesn't stop you for creating a tiny fortress that entraps and gradually diminishes his demonic magic instead of trapping him in a crystal and sticking it to your forehead from your other timeline. Look Raven,” he continues, “You and I both know that there’s something between us? Why wait for the inevitable?” Why wait till I leave for the League of Assassins? Why wait till the possibility of Apokolips comes around again? He leans in and his bright green eyes search my own.

I keep my frown on my face, not wanting to give in to his charms. He throws back a smirk because he's fucking...

"Insufferable. That’s what you are." I spit the words at him, only halfheartedly at best. He laughs. The cheeky fucker is laughing me.

"But I'm a kind and generous soul." He teases with a grin on his face. And shit, I can't fight my own my smile any longer. He reaches out and I meet him halfway, entwining our fingers together. I haven't affirmed anything but the gesture already is the answer. Our answer. We’ve been dancing around this for a long time. Might as well take the chance before it’s too late.

Something magical, his aura perhaps, loops with my own. I close my eyes let the magic guide me.. and him. A meadow materializes itself and I find him in the distance, his smile warm and inviting. I extend my hand to him and he mirrors my actions. A raven flies out of my hand and another one out of his. At the same time we open our eyes and-

The magic suddenly bursts forth into a kaleidoscope of colors, a plethora of shapes of any kind. They all coalesce into a giant raven. A white raven. It soars above us, circling around the room with a happy tune. It eventually disappears into a sparkle of fireworks. We laugh and turn our gazes to one another. 

With foreheads pressed against each other, we guide our silent conversation with twinkles in our eyes and smiles forming on our lips. It's like those typical chessy lovebird montage things people see in romantic subplots. It might be the calmness of the air or the sleep edging its way through my train of thought but I can sense our heartbeats in sync. A lullaby to my woes, perhaps, but someone like me can hope that this bond is knitting our souls into a comfortable blanket, however mysterious and unpredictable it may be.

Trigon's box rattles on the table. I almost forgot that it was there in the first place. I feel his presence, cursing disgusting words at the edge of my aura but I pay no heed. 

After all, I'm a billion times luckier now.

#damirae week 2020 #damirae #Damian Wayne #Raven #ellipsesarefun writes #life is just.. a mess #Someday I'll comeback to this #queue

[missjanjie]

Justify My Love | Goodesport

Title: Justify My Love Summary: Gigi and Jan might have butted heads on set a few times, but the one thing that stuck with Gigi was Jan not believing she's a top. So she comes to New York with a secret mission, but Jan might just beat her to the punch. Word Count: 3089 Relationship(s): Goodesport (Gigi Goode x Jan Sport) Rating: E

read on ao3

It had started out as a completely innocuous comment during Untucked. Jackie and Jan had been talking about their time going out to bars and clubs in Manhattan, and more specifically, how Jan approached dating and hooking up when he was single.

“I swear, Jan has like a sixth sense, a bottom superpower or something. She can, without fail, always pick out the tops in a crowd. Sometimes it’s top-leaning verses, but it’s still a talent,” Jackie was saying with Jan nodding happily in agreement.

The other queens looked at her with curiosity. “So what about here? Are your top senses tingling?” Crystal asked curiously.

“Not with you,” Jan retorted with a laugh. “I mean I know Jaida is, I got those vibes from Nicky too, and obviously we have Miss Dom Top Girl Bye over here,” she gestured to Heidi. “Um… Yeah, am I forgetting anyone?”

Gigi cleared her throat pointedly, and Jan looked at her with sincere surprise. “What? Don’t look at me like that. I prefer topping. Is it that surprising?”

Jan strummed her fingers against her glass. “I mean… kinda, especially after I throttled you across the set. Honestly, you give off more ‘bossy bottom’ vibes, like Jackie.”

“Hey!” Jackie chimed in with a laugh.

“You know it’s true,” Jan cooed before redirecting her attention to Gigi. “No but really, if you’re a top, you’re a top. The sixth sense isn't foolproof.”

The conversation tapered off after that, but the whole exchange was stewing with Gigi, who was simply unsatisfied with the result. It shouldn’t have continued to nag at her the way it did. It shouldn’t have still been lingering when they were nearing the end of the last episode. “Do I really give off bottom vibes?” he asked Jackie.

Jackie looked at her, perplexed. In the time since, she’d completely forgotten the exchange until Gigi jogged his memory. “Are you talking about what Jan said?”

“Yeah…”

“I guess I get what she meant. You can sometimes come off a little bratty, could be where she drew that conclusion,” she shrugged. “Is that really still bothering you?”

Gigi shifted uncomfortably. “It’s just that it’s totally inaccurate!” she insisted.

Jackie furrowed her brows. “Why are you so concerned with what Jan thinks?” She studied Gigi’s reaction – the red face, the averted gaze – he only had one conclusion to draw. “Do you… have a crush on Jan?” She didn’t let the younger queen answer. “Oh my god, you do! That’s so cute!” She cupped her face. “Aw, my sweet baby Geege,” she cooed.

Gigi swatted her hands away. “Knock it off, I don’t need that shit spreading around. Doesn’t she have a boyfriend, anyway?”

The enthusiasm immediately left Jackie’s face. She felt bad for not having thought about that, and embarrassed, considering all the double dates they’d been on. “Right, right, sorry. But hey, don’t get too down about it. Stranger things have happened.”

–––

Gigi had thought her feelings would dissipate with time. They weren’t around each other all the time, she was constantly busy. It should be out of sight, out of mind, right? And maybe it might’ve been the case, if it weren’t for the fateful text she got from Jaida one November night.

‘Did Jackie tell you Jan and her boyfriend broke up?’

Of course Jaida found out from Jackie, she thought. ‘No, when did that happen?’

‘A few days ago, Jan’s crashing on Jackie’s couch until she can lock down a new place. Said she’s been busy helping or she’d tell you herself. Apparently it’s important that you know.’

Gigi turned red at that, hiding her face in her pillows and letting out a groan until she could collect herself. ‘Did she say anything else?’

‘Yeah: I told you so’

She rolled her eyes. “I told you so,” she mocked to herself. Leave it to Jackie to be a gossip and a know-it-all. Still, the next thing she did was check her calendar, hoping she would be in New York sometime very soon.

As it turned out, ‘very soon’ ended up being about ten days. And Gigi thought that was enough time, especially if she did decide to do anything. But even though there was a part of her trying to talk himself out of it, the rest of her had been drowned in the same feelings she had on set, and she knew that crush hadn’t dissipated in the slightest.

It didn’t help that most of Jan’s instagram feed was post-breakup thirst trap pictures. It had caught Gigi off guard, but she certainly wasn’t complaining, nor was she planning on deleting the screenshots of those photos from her phone anytime soon. Beyond that, she refused to show even the slightest drop of nerves when she got to New York. She was going to be the confident Gigi Goode everyone knew and nothing less. And she was going to make certain Jan knew exactly how much of a top she was by the time she went back to Los Angeles.

Once in the hotel, Gigi took a quick shower and changed into a clean outfit that was far more fashionable than the sweats and oversized hoodie she’d arrived in. After writing and rewriting a text a few times, she asked Jan if she wanted to go out to a club, and to her relief, she got an enthusiastic ‘yes’ in reply.

Gigi was expecting to meet Jan at the club, but just as she finished getting ready, he got a text from Jan asking for her hotel room number.

“Hey, I missed you!” Jan greeted warmly when Gigi opened the door. She hugged her tightly, liking the way the other queen seemed to melt into his arms.

“I missed you too. How’ve you been?” Gigi asked as she ushered her inside. “You’re all settled into the new place, right?”

Jan nodded, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I have. It’s the first time I’m living alone and… honestly, it’s freeing. It’s nice, but a little lonely,” she admitted.

Gigi nodded and sat beside her. “Well, you won’t be lonely while I’m here. I’m going to annoy you incessantly until you’re ready to dropkick me back to LA,” she nudged him lightly.

“You could never annoy me,” Jan cooed and wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer. “Well… maybe not never, but I’m still happy you’re here.”

Gigi had forgotten how physically affectionate Jan was, it had been a bit jarring at first. She had grown up with everyone keeping themselves at arms length, and normally that was how she liked things. But Jan was a hugger, a kisser, everything Gigi normally couldn’t stand, but somehow Jan was the exception. “I’m happy I’m here too.”

“And…” Jan pulled back to reach into his bag, “I thought we could do a little pregaming before we go out,” she set the bottle of vodka and cans of soda she’d gotten from the vending machine on the table.

“You’re the best,” she grinned as they fixed themselves drinks. “Cheers, to not being lonely tonight,” and they clinked their plastic cups and took long sips.

Jan took another sip and sat back down. “What’ve you been up to? Still a top?” she teased.

Gigi bit back a grin, this was just the segue she’d been hoping for. “I sure am. Still doubting me?”

“That really stuck with you, huh?” Jan chuckled. “I thought I saw it get under your skin a little bit,” she took Gigi’s hand, swinging it aimlessly. “Not still mad at me, are you?”

“Oh, I was never mad at you,” she assured, then sat straddling Jan’s lap. “But you have to understand that I can’t just let you be wrong like that,” she added, running her fingers through Jan’s hair. All the nerves she had come in with seemed to have vanished, and she let her lust and desire take control of her words and actions.

Jan seemed just as interested, brow raised and arms looped around Gigi’s waist. “Yeah? You’re gonna show me how much of a top you are, Geege?”

Gigi put two fingers under Jan’s chin and tilted her head up. “Honey, that’s only the tip of the iceberg. Is that why you wanted to come here first? Wanted to see if I’d fuck you? There’s no need to play games, you know. You could’ve just asked.”

“But where’s the fun in that?” Jan bat her lashes innocently.

So this was how she was going to play? Gigi smirked, not minding a bit. She grabbed Jan by her shirt and pulled her into a heated kiss. Her tongue slipped past Jan’s lips, swirling and wrestling it in a battle of dominance that she knew she was going to win. When she needed to come up for air, it was never more than a few seconds at a time before she eagerly dove back in, until finally she rested their foreheads together as she caught her breath. “Shit, do you have any idea of all the things I wanna do to you? Wanna fucking ruin you.”

“Please…” Jan’s voice was soft and breathy, but filled with an undeniable need that sent a thrill up Gigi’s spine.

And Gigi simply couldn’t leave it at that. “Please what?”

“Please fuck me, ruin me, take me like I know you’ve wanted to,” the words were spilling out too fast for Jan to realize she had admitted to knowing how Gigi felt about her at first. But she knew Gigi wasn’t one to talk about feelings, so she hoped that would be overlooked.

Gigi was, in fact, more than willing to overlook it. She just kissed Jan deeply, biting her bottom lip and slowly pulling back. “I don’t know how rough you like it, like… Will we need a safe word?”

Jan’s brows rose in interest, her hands splayed across Gigi’s thighs. “That’s exactly the kind of rough I like,” she purred.

“So, what’s your safe word?”

“Madonna.”

“Jan, too soon!”

Jan scoffed in mock offense. “How is it too soon for you?” She then giggled, hiding her face against Gigi’s neck until she could collect herself. “Sorry, sorry. I’ll just tell you to stop.”

Gigi got off of Jan and pushed her down onto the bed. “You’re ridiculous. Take your fucking clothes off.”

“Oooh, yes Daddy,” Jan purred, taking interest in Gigi’s firm tone. But she paused after she took her shirt off, tilting her head. “Or… Mommy?” She looked to Gigi for clarification.

“Doesn’t matter, Daddy’s fine,” she assured, then smirked. “Now go on, Daddy didn’t tell you to stop,” she gestured to the fact that Jan was still dressed from the waist down.

Jan breathed out an apology and quickly stripped down, then pushed herself up to her knees to undress Gigi as well.

“So eager,” Gigi chuckled, lifting her arms up so Jan could take her shirt off. “So desperate to get fucked, aren’t you?” she cooed as she kicked off her jeans and underwear, pinning Jan underneath her on the bed once they were both naked. “You might not have had me figured out, but I knew you were a greedy little whore,” she attacked Jan’s neck with kisses and bites, leaving marks from the base of her jaw to her collarbone. She sat back, straddling Jan’s waist and gently raking her pointed, manicured nails down Jan’s chest.

Jan felt goosebumps spread down her arms, breath hitching in her throat. Gigi’s gaze bore down into her soul, sending electricity coursing through her body. She always found Gigi to be beautiful, she’d always been attracted to her, but something about seeing her at this angle, gazing up at her – she looked ethereal, and Jan couldn’t help but melt under her touch.

Gigi wrapped her hand around Jan’s dick, stroking lazily as she looked around. “I take it you brought lube and a condom?” she asked, only letting go and getting off of Jan so she could retrieve it. “Of course you did, slut,” she smirked and snatched the bottle from her hand. “On your back, legs up and apart.”

Jan laid back, propping pillows behind her to give Gigi an easier angle to work with.

“You’re so pretty like this, on display for me,” Gigi mused as she slicked her fingers up with lube and sat on the back of her legs, positioned between Jan’s thighs. Her free hand kept a steady grip on Jan’s hip as she eased a finger into her, waiting a moment before starting to thrust.

“Fuck…” Jan grunted softly, arching towards Gigi as her eyes fluttered shut.

Gigi landed a firm smack of disapproval on Jan’s inner thigh. “Don’t you take your eyes off of me,” she hissed as she worked in a second finger.

Jan whimpered softly, but kept her head up and eyes on Gigi, which was a sight she really had no complaints about. She gasped out when Gigi twisted her fingers in just the right way. “Fuck, fuck right there.”

“That the spot, baby?” Gigi didn’t wait for an answer before thrusting her fingers against it several times over.

“Yes, yes, fuck, Gigi, please,” Jan panted, all but fucking herself on her fingers.

She smirked, slowing her thrusts to a halt. “Please what?”

“Please fuck me. Fuck, I need your cock, Daddy. Want you to fuck me so hard, I’m still feeling it when you’re on your way back to LA,” Jan was shamelessly vocal with her pleading, already aching for more.

And Gigi looked down at her, listening to the desperation in her tone and, to be honest, she would’ve given her anything in the world. But there was no way she would’ve given Jan the satisfaction of knowing that. Instead, she eased her fingers out and grabbed the condom, tearing it open with her teeth and rolling it down her length.

Jan quietly studied Gigi’s naked form. She didn’t expect such a lithe, little twink to be hung like that. She never noticed on set, most of the time she spent around Gigi, she was thinking about strangling her or tossing her across the room again. Perhaps it was those spiteful feelings that compelled Jan to seek her out – it was the best way to hash out months old tension as far as she was concerned.

And while Gigi’s frustration with Jan had stemmed from something completely different, it didn’t make her desire to fuck Jan senseless any less potent. She grabbed one of the pillows and propped it up under Jan’s back, hooking her legs over her shoulders as well. She carefully lined herself up and pushed in, letting out a quiet stream of curses until she bottomed out.

Jan’s eyes were blown wide with lust, the heat of arousal over taking her. She felt like she was on fire without the slightest urge to put it out. It took a moment for her to realize Gigi was waiting for her to give a sign that she was ready to continue, so she nodded eagerly.

Gigi began thrusting instantly, starting slow at first, but quickly picking up the pace. “Look at you, taking my cock so well. This what you wanted, baby? To get fucked like the dirty little slut you are?” She wasn’t satisfied with Jan nodding, so she grabbed her jaw and leaned in close. “Answer me.”

“Yes! Yes, fuck, it feels so good,” Jan moaned out sharply.

“Good boy,” Gigi hummed and moved back upright, thrusts becoming harder until she was fucking her at a brutal pace that was almost beyond her control. Her hips snapped forward at an almost animalistic speed. She couldn’t get enough, and neither could Jan.

It was when Jan started squirming against her that Gigi decided to pay her more attention. She wrapped her hand around Jan’s cock, her hand still slick from the lube. “Gonna make you come for me, baby doll, gonna have you screaming my name.”

Jan’s moans were already loud and guttural, reminding both of them that Jan did make her living off of vocalizing. “God, fuck, Gigi, I’m so close, gonna come…” But there was a tinge of hesitation.

It hit Gigi after a beat – Jan was waiting for her permission, and the way she had gotten her so utterly submissive made Gigi moan. “Go on, come for me,” she goaded, thrusts slowing down a bit so she could properly watch and appreciate the sight. “God, that’s fucking hot. Gonna make me come,” she murmured, slamming forward a few more times before stopping, an idea forming.

Jan whined softly, but she was still coming down from riding out her orgasm. Still, she looked at Gigi as if to ask, ‘what gives?’.

Instead of a verbal answer, Gigi pulled herself out. She got up to discard the condom and sat back down on the side of the bed. “On your knees,” she said, then snapped, “now.”

Jan pushed herself up and off the bed, sinking down to her knees between Gigi’s legs. She didn’t need any further instruction from there – she took Gigi’s cock into her mouth and began bobbing her head.

Gigi allowed it for a moment before grabbing onto Jan’s hair, which immediately got the other queen’s attention. She began bucking her hips forward, slowly at first, to make sure Jan was okay. And after a nod of approval, she went ahead with fucking her throat.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, Jan had incredible breath control and no gag reflex, so she was able to comfortably stay still while Gigi continued thrusting her dick in and out of her mouth.

When Gigi came, she held Jan’s head in place, moaning out wantonly as she came down her throat, then slowly eased out. She swiped the come dribbling down the side of Jan’s mouth with her thumb and licked it off.

Silence followed for a few moments as Jan pushed herself up and got back on the bed. “Well,” she started, “I guess I was wrong. You’re definitely a top.”

“Mm, say it again,” Gigi cooed. “Wait, actually don’t, hearing you say you were wrong is just gonna get me hard again,” she laughed.

Jan tossed a pillow at her. “You’re a little fucking bitch,” she snorted.

“A little fucking bitch that made you scream,” she corrected, shifting to lay beside Jan. “We’re not going out to the club, are we?”

“Nah,” Jan decided, wrapping her arm around her. “I’ll just listen to you talk about how wrong I was until you’re ready to fuck me again.”

#goodesport #rpdr fanfiction #rpdr fic

[criminally--reid]

library lovers

I h8 the title- n e ways... here's the fix that's been promised to be posted at least twice a week for the past month 😌✋🏽also if u want untagged yk who u are smsbsj lmk,, i just thought id use the anon tag so u could see it snsbsj n e ways let's get on wiv d shit show

warnings: awkward chaotic gay, general smutty stuff y'know, mutual masturbation, i’ve never written mxm fic before so yonkers :| 

word count: 2.6k

Pairing: bi!spencer x (dom-ish)male!reader 

//a.n.\\ somehow the reader ends up in charge and i kinda like it tbh. i'm shit at storylines,  but honestly,, highschool homophobe masturbating with spencer reid? Call that character development 

`°•○●○•°`

You hadn't seen Spencer in years. Remembering the terms the two of you ended on, you weren't surprised either. All throughout highschool, you were the movie-esque tormentors of the frail, nerdy kid. The bully that wasn't actually supposed to exist. The absolute nightmare that had kids like Spencer trembling, dreading to relive the same terror another day. 

Shock couldn't even begin to cover what you felt the day you watched him walk into the library you now owned. You had been working on forgetting him since graduation. Just when you thought the remnants of Spencer had dripped entirely from your memory, everything came flooding in the matter of milliseconds the moment he walked through your door. All the times you watched him eat alone, pick his things up alone after someone had thrown them out of his hands; all the times you could've stepped up and just chose not to. You promised yourself you'd be different. Now was your chance. 

You subtly watch Spencer as he looks through the many isles of books. Beginning at young adult, trailing quickly to non-fiction, and eventually ending up in the classic section. He doesn't spend much time amongst the books - 5 minutes at the most since he walked in - before bringing a stack of 6 books up to the counter; you anxiously waiting to scan him in. 

"Did- did you find all your books alright?" You manage to ask. Spencer merely nods his head, crossing his arms and bringing one of his hands up to his mouth, chewing on his fingernails. His brows furrow and you're worried he's about to say something. 

"I'm a little surprised to see you working here actually." This throws you off. You did not plan for this- this confrontation. 

"I take it you remember me?" 

"I'm not really one to forget things, you know." Fair enough. 

"Well, yes. I actually run the place now. My grandfather had passed it on to me." 

"Oh he's…? I'm so sorry for your loss." 

Spencer's look of sincerity throws you off. After all the years of you being his worst fear, he still had room in his heart to be genuinely kind towards you. 

"It's fine, really. It was so long ago now. And besides- now I have this grand, ancient bookstore." You end with a chuckle and finish scanning the barcodes in each of his books. 

"Thank you- uh actually, could you help me find something else?"

"Of course! What're you looking for?" 

"Everyone keeps recommending me Donna Tart, where could I find some of her work?" 

"Follow me," you gesture and move from behind the counter. 

You walk him over to the very back of the store where all the dark academia-esq books are. While sifting through the books, he asks you a question that catches you completely off guard; his voice nothing above a whisper. 

"And I take it that you don't still hate me-" 

You immediately know what he's talking about. How silly of you to think the past wouldn’t be brought up.  

You clear your throat before speaking up. "I- n-no of course not. I- I uh- I know this is extremely cliche, and I'm not trying to excuse away any of the horrible things I did to you but- I was hiding." 

"From what?" Spencer chimes in quietly. 

"I just didn't know how to feel about myself. Gay this and gay that- it was all so negative. I didn't want to be known for something that was apparently so wrong. I definitely couldn't let the football playing circle jerkers I called my friends know about how I felt towards other guys. An-and I saw how they treated people like you and I didn't want that, so I joined them." 

"So you're gay?" Spencer asks, and you nod slowly. "And you and your 'circle jerking buddies' tortured me because you all thought I was gay?" 

"Well- I- we uh- that's what they said. I knew it wasn't good, but I didn't do anything because of what I was. I know the word 'sorry' will never make up for anything I've ever done or said to you, but I am so so sorry, Spencer." 

"You guys just knew I was gay? -Gaydar that strong, huh?" Spencer ends in a chuckle, easing up your tension, allowing you to slip out a soft laugh, too. 

"Obviously, it wasn't too good. I somehow managed to skate by for four years." 

"That you did." For the first time in years, when you look at Spencer, he doesn't look upset. A content, lazy smile accompanies his happy eyes as he. "Well- actually, I'm not entirely gay so I guess their gaydar needed some tweeking, hm?" 

"Oh, you're-" you attempt, but get cut-off. 

"Bi? Yeah. I realized I was bi when I realized I had a crush on you and your tenth grade girlfriend. What about you?" 

Still skimming the pages of a Donna Tart book, never looking up from it. So nonchalant. Him being so upfront with you was honestly exciting. You never imagined that you'd be remotely friendly with Spencer Reid, let alone him revealing he had a crush on you. "Ah, about junior year, I figured out I kinda had a thing for you." 

"Say, uh," Spencer started, tucking his hair behind his ear and slipping the book back onto the shelf. "I liked you; you liked me. Why don't we hang out sometime or something-" 

You could tell Spencer was trying hard to mask his enthusiasm. You were too. 

"Erm- yeah totally! I get off in about an hour actually; I could call you, and we could grab coffee or something." 

"Sounds great," Spencer says hurriedly as he fishes around in his pocket, drawing out a small slip of paper and drawing the pen from his shirt pocket. He hands you the freshly used paper with his number inscribed on it in smudged black ink. 

The next hour, excitement coursed through you. You're bustling around, fidgeting, unshelving and re-shelving books, sweeping, mopping - anything to keep your mind off of the end of your shift. The busiest yet slowest hour of your life. Your shift ends and your excitement reaches its peak. Your finger hovers over the call button at the bottom of your screen, hesitating. For a split second you get the courage to press call, but then you immediately regret it - that is until his hurried, excited voice slips through the speaker. 

"Hey, y/n! It's Spencer! Uh- you know.. that.. of course. Anyways, uh there's this coffee shop about a block away from my place. I wondered if maybe you'd wanna go and have an early dinner or something." 

You can't help but chuckle at his excitement; trying to calm down your own. "That sounds great, Spencer. What's the place?" 

"Café Negra-" 

"What?!" you cut him off "I go there all the time! How have I never seen you?" 

"What? That's insane. How have we not crossed each other there?" 

"No clue.. Anyways I'll meet you there- uh about 20?" 

"Perfect." Spencer hangs up without any formal goodbyes, but you couldn't care less - you couldn't wait to meet him at the coffee shop. 

The date - which neither of you bothered to assign that title to the event, but you both knew it was, in fact, a date - went impressively well. It's like you two had never been enemies in the first place. Those four years in high school wiped clean of any hard feelings as the two of you drank coffee way too strong for 6p.m., ate double chocolate muffins, and laughed away. 

When it comes time to leave, Spencer stands up first, throwing away his cup and muffin wrapper; you follow quickly and do the same. 

A mutual agreement was somehow made to take it back to Spencer's place. Maybe it was the lack of goodbyes that he seemed prone to. Whatever it was, the evening didn't feel finished. 

Once inside his cozy apartment, he welcomes you to his couch before maneuvering to the tv stand, kneeling down and pulling out three movies. He gestures for you to choose one, and you choose Titanic. Not the greatest choice of the three, but you had a feeling you wouldn't be focused on the movie too much anyways. 

He puts the disc into the player before joining you on the couch. About twenty minutes into the movie, he moves closer to you, resting his shoulder slowly, cautiously as if asking permission. You ease his nerves by welcoming his head on your shoulder and leaning against him in return. The next half an hour is full of stolen glances, light touches, and snuggling. All innocent until Spencer slides his hand up your thigh. You try not to mind it much. Maybe he's just absentminded in all the contact. He doesn't know what he's doing. You try to focus on the movie and not on his hand getting ever so dangerously close until you just can't anymore. Looking down at him, he's already making eye contact with you, driving you wild. Instinctually you connect your lips with his. 

Spencer shuffles over and straddles your lap, never disconnecting your lips. Your hands roam around his shoulders and back before dipping underneath the hem of his shirt and pulling it off. He makes quick work of returning the favor. After a few more chaste kisses, he stands up, pulling you up with him, and pushes his pants to the floor with you following suit. Spencer places his fingers under your chin, bringing your face up to his in an attempt to place another open-mouthed kiss on your bite-swollen lips. However, you muster up a burst of courage and manage to flip the script. Placing your fingers on Spencer’s chest and holding him at arm's length, you keep eye contact while you take a seat on one end of the couch. You motion for him to take his seat at the other end. 

Spencer, still unsure of the current situation, watches you move. He watches as you run your fingertips up and down your thighs. As you wet the palm of your hand with your tongue before running it up and down your shaft. Lightly tracing your fingertips over your reddened head, hissing at the contact. 

“Your turn,” you say barely above a whisper. 

Spencer’s eyes go wide, but he still obliges, wetting his hand and repeating your actions on himself. Hissing and cursing at the contact with his eager cock. He soon gets lost in his own world of pleasure. Moving faster and moaning barely-there profanities. Watching the show, you bring your hand back to yourself. Your eyes shut as you listen to Spencer; his pretty gasps like music to your ears. 

“Y-y/n? I’m- I’m close.” 

“Awh, so soon? You sure you can’t hold on for me just a little longer?” 

Spencer lets out a strangled moan and forces himself to slow his pace. Watching him struggle to contain himself turns you on even more. His desperate whines and pleas for release getting you closer to the edge. “Look at me, bubbas,” you coax. 

Spencer looks up at you, pushing a tuft of hair from his eyes. His other hand still desperately attached to the base of his cock, awaiting further instruction. 

“Listen.. We’re gonna cum together okay?” Spencer only manages a nod in response so you continue. “I want you to move faster again; get closer. But I want you to let me know when you’re about to cum, okay?” 

You’re met with a furious nod for an answer as he works at his waist, bringing himself closer to his climax; you simultaneously doing the same.

“F-fuck fuckfuckfuck! -M gonna cum. Shit! I’m cumming!” Spencer's cries of pleasure send you over the edge and you both spill over together. Your head dips back over the armrest of the couch as you try to catch your breath. You bring your head back up and look at Spencer, only to see him leaning sideways against the back of the couch, still out of breath and coates in a layer of sweat. 

“Why don’t we go get cleaned up, hm?” 

Spencer nods his head in agreement before getting up off the couch and leading you to the bathroom. You definitely aren’t going home tonight.  

#criminal minds #spencer reid #gay #mlm #x reader #self insert fanfic #matthew gray gubler #mgg #cm #smut #fluff #spencer reid x reader #🕯anon

[t-hollands-bitch]

Rom Howney request: the rest of Tom's family is away so Robert fucks him on his literal childhood bed. Bonus points for Starker roleplay. 😏😏😏

Childhood memories

Warnings: SMUT, Starker rp, oral, anal, Daddy kink, degrading (a little), unprotected sex, everyone is obv of age, spit and saliva as lube, and I say again SMUT!!

Pairing: Tom Holland x Robert Downey Jr

Word count: 2k 

A/N: This was supposed to be a blurb but I got carried away heh sorry

*****

They had just been at the Dolittle movie premiere in London. The movie was so fun to watch but most important, Robert looked so good at the premiere in his suit and coat and the whole outfit just made him more mouthwatering than he already was. Tom just couldn’t keep his eyes off of him. 

The way Robert touched him, looked at him, smiled at him, it all made Tom’s heart skip not just one beat but a thousand beats. The light touches on his back when they took pictures, the way Robert put his hand on Tom’s thigh when they were watching the movie made Tom dizzy. Robert knew exactly what he was doing to him. He knew how easy it was to get Tom’s attention. 

Robert would lie to himself if he said that the boy didn’t have his attention as well. Tom dressed in all black was his favorite thing ever. The boy looked like a three-course meal. The jacket, the shirt underneath it clinging perfectly to his upper body, those tight jeans -fuck, when Robert saw Tom in those jeans, he almost got hard immediately, thank god his willpower and self-control didn’t disappoint him- and his hair that was slowly growing back and soon within a month or two would be a curly mess again. 

Tom’s parents were out of town and sadly couldn’t attend the premiere, only Sam and Harry were there but they were going out with some friends afterward, so it was just Tom and Robert going back to Tom’s house. Tom felt a little homesick after the couple of months that he had been in Cleveland filming Cherry. 

Tom had only taken his jacket and boots off and sat on his bed, scrolling through the pictures from the premiere while Robert had gotten out of his dress pants to change into a pair of sweatpants before he was stopped in his tracks by Tom.

“Should I have this as my first picture?” Robert turned his head at Tom’s question.

“Which one?” 

“This one, you look fabulous in it,” Tom said with a subtle smirk on his face.

It was the picture where Tom was on his knees, looking adoringly up at Robert who was standing there as if he was the king of the world. 

“Hmmm.. yeah, that looks good” Robert’s response came out more raspy than it was supposed to. Robert remembers when they were taking that picture. He turned around and saw Tom on his knees as if the boy was ready to suck his dick right then and there in front of everyone, and the more Robert looked at the boy the harder it became to control himself. 

“I mean, there were some pictures where your boner could be seen so I’m not gonna post those, cause I don’t like sharing what’s mine,” Tom said cheekily while turning to look at Robert who now sat next to him with his arm around Tom’s shoulder. 

“Oh so that’s where your eyes were the whole time, I think I remember seeing some drops of drool on your chin.” If Tom wanted to tease, Robert was better at it.

“Yeah, probably, you looked so damn gorgeous and honestly, it was hard not to look especially with the-” Tom cut himself off.

“With what?” Robert nudged Tom so the boy now straddled him with one leg at either side of Rob. Bowing his head down to give Rob a kiss.

“With- oh-” Tom’s breath got caught in his throat as soon as he sat down in Rob’s lap. 

“Woah, what was that now?” The curiosity in Robert had now peaked and he couldn’t help but put his hands on Tom’s ass and run his hands over them kneading them lightly.

“Oh- Rob-” 

“Wait a minute now…” Robert realized that Tom was getting more excited every time he pushed against his ass. Not that Tom wouldn’t otherwise, but these gasps… oh.. what if.. Robert got an idea and decided to put it to test. So he brushed his hand against Tom’s ass but this time pressing where his hole was and the boy let out a loud moan.

“Do you have- Tom do you have a buttplug in?” The question together with Robert’s smirk made Tom blush and the boy looked down. “So that’s why you were whimpering and moving around in your seat when we were watching the movie.” Tom buried his face in the crook of Robert’s neck and planted a light kiss there before whispering.

“Maybeeee..” He said as he kept sucking and licking and kissing the older man’s neck.

“Get out of these jeans right now!” And like the good boy that Tom was, he immediately got up and pulled down his jeans and boxers in one movement. His dick was hard between his legs and the pre-cum made the tip glisten and slick. Before he got to sit down, another demand was given to him.

“On your hands and knees.” 

The sight in front of Robert when the boy did as he was told made him drool and his blood rushed immediately down to his dick. 

“Fuck… Tom..” Tom had a red buttplug in with blue in the middle of it looking like the arc reactor from Iron Man. 

“I-I thought that you might like it… Mr. Stark” The last part was quieter than a whisper and came out shaky, but Robert heard it and the words went directly to his cock. Of course, Tom called him Mr. Stark when they were shooting or if they were asked about each other related to the marvel movies, but never like this.

“Oh, so it is Mr. Stark now? Well, thank you for being so considerate Peter, I like it a lot. So much that I think you deserve a little reward for it.” Tom let out a whimper when he realized that Robert was in on the role-playing and because of the praise he got. They had never done it before so it excited Tom even more.

Robert started to slowly pull the plug out and when he did, Tom’s hole clenched and fluttered around nothing. 

“Oh Petey, this little hole of yours looks so hungry, should we maybe do something about it?” Robert’s teasing voice only got a muffled moan from Tom in response. And that was the sign he needed. He put his hands on Tom’s ass cheeks, spread them and dived in, planting small kisses around the hole before starting to give it small kitten licks and wetting and teasing the poor boy underneath him. Tom’s hole fluttered against Rob’s tongue and he slowly pushed the tip of his tongue inside the boy drawing a filthy moan from him. 

“Mr- Mr. Stark, please touch me. Pleasepleaseplease, my cock is leaking, it’s so hard for you it aches.” Tom was rambling nonsense with his face pressed against his pillow, face turned to the left with two of his fingers shoved in his mouth in a poor attempt to keep quiet.

“Aww, Pete, why so needy? Let Daddy take his time. You know how I hate to be rushed.” With that, Rob’s hand came down on Tom’s ass causing a loud smack and a light print of red on the fair skin. 

“But Tonyyyy pleasee!”

“It’s either Sir, Mr. Stark or Daddy for you young man! Don’t be disrespectful or else I will stop everything I’m doing right now and leave you like this.” Robert’s tone now firm with another smack on Tom’s other cheek.

“Yes Daddy, I promise, I will be a good boy for you.” And with those words, Robert shoved two fingers inside of Tom and started pumping them slowly and curling them slightly which made the boy cry out in pleasure and his cock leaked pre-cum onto the bed. “Please, I am already prepared, please Mr. Stark, I want your cock inside of me, please Sir.” Tom was a whining mess. His head was spinning with arousal and he couldn’t stop himself from begging for more.

“Needy little thing, aren’t you? Turn around.” Robert’s cock was aching inside his boxers and he could start feeling the wet spot forming on the fabric. When Tom turned around, the tip of his dick was red and slightly swollen from all the blood that had rushed there. It looked kinda painful to see the boy this desperate after cock, tears had run down his cheeks, his lips were puffy and just like his cheeks, a hint of red could be seen, but Rob wanted to take his time with him. 

Robert hooked his fingers around the waistband of his boxers and pulled them down enough so that his dick and balls were in perfect display for Tom. The older man moved closer to Tom’s face and gave his cock a light stroke before putting it on Tom’s lips and telling him to open his mouth. Tom being the good sub that he was, he obeyed and took Robert’s cock in his mouth all in one move.

“Fuck, I love your warm little mouth Petey-boy. I love how it only belongs to me and is made just for me.” Robert hissed at the feeling of Tom’s mouth wrapped around his dick. After all, all the deepthroat training had paid off. Telling by the way Tom whimpered at the praise, Robert turned around a little to see the boy’s dick twitching and he couldn’t help himself dragging his fingers lightly over the red throbbing cock lying on Tom’s stomach. The light touch made Tom yelp and buck his hips up and he felt as if he could cum right then and there.

Robert grabbed the boy by the head and started to fuck into his mouth and was completely lost in the sensation and the sound of Tom gagging. Tom had lost the gag reflex with time and training but he still did the sound because of the way it affected Robert and made him feel more in control. The warm mouth had become a pleasure-giving-heaven for Robert and he just couldn’t stop himself from thrusting into it at a fast pace.

Robert pulls his cock slowly out of Tom’s mouth and replaces it by his ass, pushing slowly into the tight hole. His ass was still so fucking tight despite it having a buttplug inside for hours and being stretched out by Rob’s fingers. Robert went slow at first but the sound of Tom’s heavy breathing and moans encouraged him to go faster. He started fucking the boy relentlessly into the bed making Tom forget his own name. Sweat making the boy’s fit body looking shiny like a star.

“Such a filthy boy you are Peter, letting me fuck the shit out of you in your childhood bed, making you take my cock.” The words falling from Robert’s mouth combined with his hand that comes up around Tom’s throat, the pressure on his spot deep inside of him, the stretch and the sight of Robert does it for Tom.

“Mr- Mr. Stark I-I’m gonna- oh” And the boy spurt strings of cum onto his stomach. The intensity of the orgasm hitting Tom like a truck, almost making blackout for a second. 

Few more thrusts from Robert and the clenching, the tightness of Tom’s ass and the filthy moans falling from Tom’s mouth, making Robert follow soon after, painting Tom’s walls white with his cum. 

He carefully pulls his dick out and searches for the plug on the bed and puts it back in Tom’s ass to keep his cum in there and making the boy whimper and drawing a whine from him because of the overstimulation. 

“The plug looked so good on you baby boy, you should keep it on a little longer.” He winked and kissed Tom tenderly on the cheek and then on his lips. 

Tom got up to get something to eat with his clothes still being on the floor, and the subtle swing of his hips drove Robert crazy that he felt like getting up and fucking the boy again on the kitchen counter. 

———-

A/N: This was my first smut, I kinda liked it but it can always be better, so please, feel free to leave some feedback! The requests are still open! I’m currently working on a blurbish-one shot right now! (The one with the building collapsing on the reader, based on a request I got!)

Send me blurb and fic ideas! 

#anons #H's blurb time #rom howney #rom howney fluff #rom howney smut #rom howney fic #starker #starker fic #rom howney blurb #starker smut #starker blurb #starker fluff #starker one shot #rom howney one shot #H's writing

[stick-man-simp]

Some stuff about my stick oc Evans that no one asked for!!!

You wanna hear my headcannons about the actual thsc characters?? To bad!!! /j/lh (under the cut cus this is long lol)

1. What’s your oc’s most irrational fear? Is there a specific reason this fear came about?

They’re really afraid of something happening to their neck, like you know, that kind of stuff, ouch, no real reason for this fear, they just have it. They’re also really afraid of being abandoned and being alone oof

2. Is your oc picky about food? What kinds of foods do they like and dislike? What do they consider a comfort or “safe” food?

They hate tomatoes and milk with a passion, but otherwise most foods are okay with them, it’s more about the texture for them, not the taste, but if it has a weird texture, big oof moments. They really like any sort of fast food (except Wendy’s) and they love Dr Pepper so much lol

3. What does your oc’s voice sound like? (Or, if you have one, what’s their voiceclaim?) Can they sing, whistle, or roll their rs? Do they have any speech impediments or notable dialects/accents?

Their voice basically sounds like mine, but low key deep, and kinda raspy too. They can sing alright, not great but they like singing along to songs. They can whistle really well, the kind of really good whistling that pisses you off >:) lol. they cannot roll their r’s lol haha loser can’t roll their r’s :’). they used to have a stutter as a kid and it comes out when they’re really upset.

4. Is your oc good at keeping secrets?

They are great at keeping secrets, because they care a lot :), but also cus they have terrible memory and will probably forget it lol

5. What kind of clothes is your oc most comfortable wearing?

Their usual comfy everyday outfit is just a t-shirt and jeans, and hoodie when it’s cold. Same thing at home, but sweatpants or pj shorts

6. What kind of clothes is your oc least comfortable wearing?

Dresses >:( they’re ugly and uncomfortable, also flip flops, they hate them (they wear crocs lmao)

7. What song reminds you of this oc? Does this match up with the type of music your oc likes to listen to?

I actually made whole a playlist for them oop- https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7qxg8Wm7qbMXKu2FRBKYI4 It kind of matches what they would listen to, upbeat with kind of sad lyrics

8. What’s it like inside your oc’s mind? (Literally, or metaphorically.)

No thoughts head empty, jk it’s a mess, they may seem really chill and confident on the outside, but on the inside they are always worried about saying the wrong thing and scaring people away, they just want friends :’(

9. What are your oc’s goals for the future? Relationship-wise, career-wise, or other?

Nothing much, they don’t like thinking about the future, they just go with the flow really, not good but whelp, it’s going ok so far. NO relationships tho, they are aroace, but boy do they wish they had some friends oof

10. Who’s the first person your oc goes to to talk about something that made them happy? Sad? Angry?

Usually... no one, maybe their cat or maybe their mom, but in the time where Evans is friends with Ocelot (Coelpts oc), they would go to him about literally everything lol and then get worried about annoying him oof

11. Does your oc have any interests/hobbies that they hide from everyone? Why do they hide these interests?

Not really, they have a bunch of hobbies, but cringe culture is dead so they are open about them all to whoever asks, but no one ever does aaa, but they do stuff like gaming, drawing, knitting, embroidery, baking, cooking, model trains, lots of stuff

12. How does your oc handle talking to somebody they can’t stand? What if it’s a situation where they’re forced to work with this person?

They don’t lol, they don’t take shit from no one and will say to their face that they don’t like them lol, but if they have to work with them, they will cooperate, but their gonna be a bastard about it

13. What’s your oc’s dream home like?

A cozy cottage in the woods, with lots of hiking trails all around, a chicken coop, and close to their friend’s house :’)

14. If your oc spent one day free from any consequences or recognition for their actions, how would they act?

They wouldn’t do much lol, probably just steal a bunch of Dr Pepper and snacks from the store

15. What’s your oc’s morning routine like?

They wake up at like 6 am and scroll on their phone in bed for a bit, and then get up at 7:45 to get ready lol, and leave at 8 to got to work, I mean it works but wtf Evans

16. What’s your oc’s nighttime routine like?

They usually just sit on the couch with their cat and some snack and watch TV or play games for a while before going to bed and scrolling on their phone for like an hour before finally passing out

17. If your oc had a social media page, what would it be like? What would they post about? How much personal information would they feel comfortable posting on it? How often would they update it?

They have a Tumblr, they don't make many posts, just reblog stuff, and they would totally share their fucking home address  if someone asked nicely, they are unhinged

18. How does your oc see themself? How does this compare to the way other ocs see them?

They look at themself and think ‘woah that’s one sexy motherfucker’, they are a bastard man with way too much confidence, I don’t have any other os’s that would interact with them, but Ocelot totally thinks of them as just a big dumb puppy (he would never say that out loud tho lol)

19. How would an enemy describe this oc?

An arrogant son of a bitch (and they’d be right >:D)

20. What’s a superpower or magical ability that this oc would hate having?

Being able to read peoples minds, they would hate this so much, because it would make them feel evil and uncomfy, and they don’t wanna know what people are thinking about them, they think it’ll be bad oof

21. What’s a fact you haven’t shared about this oc?

They are nonbinary, AFAB, they used to wear a binder but they got top surgery at 20 years old, now they don’t wear a shirt at the beach and they’re making that everyone else's problem!! >:D

22. What’s your oc’s dream job? Is this similar to what they’re doing now? Do they believe they could ever achieve this dream?

They work for the CCC right now, and they had their dream job as an agent, but the promotion they got kind of ruined the dream, and their job is boring to them now

23. Who would this oc consider their family? What is their relationship with these people?

They have their mom, who is really great, their dad died when they were young, they don’t have any siblings, and they aren’t close with any other family. But, any friends they have they immediately get really attached to and think of as family

24. What is one thing that, no matter who it’s coming from, would anger your oc?

Getting called a coward (haha Marty McFly kinnie lmao), they are not a coward >:( (this gets them in a lot of trouble sometimes oof)

25. How does your oc handle sadness?

Not well oof, they mostly just cry a bunch and eat a lot, anything to get their mind off it

26. How does your oc handle anger?

Basically the same as with sadness but with furrowed eyebrows and ranting to their cat

27. How does your oc handle fear?

They are pretty brave so not much scares them, and they have to be brave for others, but when it comes to stuff that really scares them or just plain anxiety, they usually try to calm down as best they can, or they just run, they can run fast too

28. What’s your favorite thing about this oc?

Himbo :)

29. What’s your least favorite thing about this oc?

They have a primal urge to insult people, they don’t mean to really upset people, it’s all in good fun, but they can still be pretty mean sometimes, especially when they do it with strangers oof

30. Tell a random fact about this oc!

They’ve always wanted to have a beard or a mustache, but even with T they can’t grow much facial hair :(

#if you read all of that I love you so much wow #this was fun #I just wanted to rant about Evans lol #to get it out of my system I guess #if you send me an ask about Evans I will probably combust from happiness lol #if you listen to the playlist I made for them well just consider me deceased babyyy #my oc evans #evans #stick oc #thsc oc

[things-that-nobody-asked]

I know that you do more child!Stiles with adult!Peter and make it really creepy, but I was wondering if you could do a murder husbands fic with adult Stiles and have them both be a little less disturbed? I really like your writing, even if it’s a bit too dark for me! (Most murder husband fics are post fire, so it would be cool to see one where the fire never happened)(I also really like magic Stiles) Sorry for this being so long!

I'm happy to know you enjoy my writing even if its not completely your cup of tea. Sorry if this took a long time, I had some problems with my wifi and myself.

Honestly, this is the best first request, I loved it and I hope you like it!

Here you can find it in Ao3. Thanks to @drminty for beta it <3

...

After dinner, Peter volunteered to do the routine patrol, saying that, since he was going to retake his duties as Left Hand, he would have to do it again. Talia smiled at him and he rolled his eyes without venom.

He wouldn't say it at loud, but he missed his family.

While he was walking for the reserve, he couldn't help thinking about Cora's friend.

He could remember the sheriff's son, a cute little thing, always full of energy and with somethng to say. He never talked to him, but he had one memory about the kid that he couldn't forget.

A very curious memory.

His niece always talked about him in their Skype calls and the things she said were flattering, and for her to esteem someone so much, his sister finding him charming, the pack to love him, and even Derek liking his presence, he had to be interesting enough.

He could admit to himself he was disappointed when Cora said he was busy and wouldn't go that night.

Still thinking about it, he heard something not very far from him.

Loud and wet.

He started to walk to the source, and with every step he gave, the noise became a little clearer.

There was a voice.

Five steps more and he smelled something he didn't want to smell again.

Wolfbane.

Mountain ash.

Hunters.

Peter immediately ran, faster than he had ever done, his senses focused on getting at the place from where the noises came. His mind wouldn't think on anything else.

And clearly it couldn't, since he didn't notice what the voice was saying until he got there and was taken aback by what he saw: bodies on the ground, no pulse, the smell of wolfbane and mountain ash betrayed their nature, their corpses were gored and mangled.

But that wasn't what had his attention. No.

The thing that had his attention was the attractive young man who was hitting the bodies with a feral violence. And a bat. Discharging his rage even though it was obvious life abandoned them a long time ago.

His scent was familiar, a mixed of ozone, petrichor, honey and fire, and he was surprised at finding himself not hating the last one.

“You had to come fucking today”

Hit.

“Why today?”

Hit.

“I'm so close to finishing my project and you come today!”

Hit.

“Do you know how many days I've been without sleeping for that shit? A lot”

Hit harder and the hunters' faces couldn't be called that anymore.

Peter thought on Cora, what she said about her friend not liking being interrupted when he was doing something important and having a rather bad temper when that happened.

He knew who was the person in front of him.

He gave another step and the violent boy stopped and turned to him, and when the amber irises were over him, Peter was breathless.

Wild, deep, calculating. So much crude and dangerous power.

He was assessed by the beautiful crature, who relaxed after doing it. The pretty pale face lost its sharpness and Peter didn't stop himself from contemplating the stars that decorated it.

“You must be Peter” he said.

Peter couldn't control the wolfish grin that formed on his face.

“And you must be Stiles”

The boy just gave him a mischievous smile.

--

Peter wakes up, he lets out a yawn and rubs his eyes with his right hand. He looks at his chest and can't help the smile he makes for the scene he sees.

His lover sleeping peacefully, his close eyes fluttering and little snores slipping from his mouth.

Peter knows he's smiling like an idiot and he doesn't care.

He lows his head and leaves a kiss on Stiles' hair, then stays there for a moment, just enjoying the sweet scent of his mate.

Ozone. Petrichor. Honey. Fire.

The moment was interrupted by a loud sound at his left, he turns and sees his boy's phone alarm ring. He tries to turn it off without moving too much so he can continue sleeping with Stiles, but before he gets at the phone, he feels movement on his chest.

He looks down to meet two captivating eyes, looking at him with so much love he finds it hard to breathe.

That beautiful wildness it's still there.

“Good morning” Stiles says, still sounding sleepy and with a soft smile on his lips.

He touches his face with his left hand, Peter takes his wrist and passes his fingers over the bite mark placed there.

“You don't need to go” he says.

“I do need to go” the youngest man replies.

Peter frowns slightly, which makes him receive a short kiss on his jaw.

“After school I'm all yours, I promise”

“You're mine” Peter can't stop himself from saying.

Stiles just laughs before giving him another kiss.

“Yeah, I am. You're grumpy today”

After that, his boy gets out of bed, letting him see his lithe body that it's covered with one of Peter's henleys. Stiles leaves the room, surely going to the kitchen and make some coffee.

He takes a minute before getting out of bed too. He goes to the bathroom to do his necessities and brush his teeth, then goes to the closet, he takes a shirt, jeans, and starts getting dressed.

He goes to the kitchen and finds Stiles drinking his coffee, he looks at the table and smiles when he sees another mug, he takes it and takes a sip.

Just like he likes it.

Peter continues looking at Stiles while the young one finished his coffee, the young man lets out a satisfied sigh when he's done and leaves the mug behind him, he walks forward to Peter to give him a last kiss before going back to their room.

When he's gone, Peter starts making breakfast, hearing his lover get ready.

Just when the food is ready he hears Stiles coming to the kitchen, he turns and finds him using another one of his henleys and black jeans, his backpack in hand. He sits on the table, Peter takes the plates and sits too.

They eat in silence, touching their feet under the table from time to time.

Peter takes the plates again and puts them on the sink for later, he walks at the door and takes his keys.

“You know, I could go by myself” Stiles says behind him, like he always does.

He nods. “You could” he says, like he always does.

The boy rolls his eyes fondly and then gets out of their house, being followed by Peter.

They get into the car, Stiles lays down on the passenger seat, still a little tired, and they start to drive to the young man's college. During the way, they take hands while Stiles hums softly.

After fifteen minutes they get to their destination.

Stiles straightens and leans to give him a kiss, he puts his hand on Stiles' nape and deepens the kiss, letting their tongues and purring at the low moans he hears. He nips his lower lip before Stiles draws away.

“I'm all yours”

Then he gets out of the car.

Peter waits a minute before driving home.

--

Stiles was in bed, with his pajamas and special pillow, ready to go to sleep.

He was ready to go to sleep when he felt something.

He didn't know what, it was weird and it had never happened to him. It hurt, but not like his mom's words, the burning scratches of her nails, the tact of her hand against his skin, or the suffocating feeling of her hands around his neck while being drowned.

A ghost pain. Sharp. Constant.

Feeling confused, Stiles got out of bed and started to walk downstairs. In the living room, he took the phone and dialled the number of the fire station.

“The Hale House is on fire”

He hung up, went to his room and got in bed again.

He didn't close his eyes.

Five minutes later, he heard his dad being called, getting dressed in his work clothing and closing the door.

Then Stiles slept.

The next day, his dad wasn't home yet when he woke up. It was sunday, so he took his time to make breakfast for himself and a lunch box for his dad. He didn't want to get dressed so he stayed with his pajamas and set his way at the sheriff station.

While he was walking he could hear people gossiping between them, in that tone of voice that pretended to be a whisper but wanted to be heard by others.

Hales and fire were the most used words.

Stiles continued walking until he was in front of his dad's work and then in front of Tara's desk. She leaned on the desk to see him and smiled.

“Hi, Stiles! Did you come to bring your dad his lunch?” the kind woman asked, not pointing out at the fact that he was in pajamas.

“Yes”

“He's a little busy, you can sit there and wait for a moment”

Stiles noded and sat on one of the closest chairs.

Being there, he noticed people next to him: a girl about his age who was moving nervously, a teenage boy with a blank face, and a young woman who couldn't stop biting her lip.

Cora, Derek and Laura Hale.

He looked at the floor, trying to not put his gaze over them, feeling a weird sensation with their presence.

A couple of minutes passed until the door of his dad's office was opened and he looked up, seeing his dad coming out of there and being followed by two people. He recognized the tall dark-haired woman and the handsome blue eyed man as Talia and Peter Hale.

Stiles waited until they thanked his dad and started to walk away from him, then he stood up and walked at his dad.

He felt a look over him but ignored it.

He was beside his dad and saw the Hales go, after that, he turned to his dad.

“Your lunch”

“Thanks, kiddo” he said, tired, like he had been sounding for some time.

Stiles noded, said goodbye to Tara, and went home.

He passed the next two weeks watching the Hales, learning their routine, sometimes going close to their house. He knew he could get in trouble but his curiosity didn't let him stop, he needed to know what happened.

Flashing eyes, fangs and howls was what he got.

A monday he sat with Cora Hale during recess, she looked at him, clearly wondering what wanted a kid one year younger to do with her.

“I'm the one who told the firefighters to go to your house, I know you and your family are werewolves, I think I'm something too. Help me” he said.

Her eyes widened.

“You're not lying”

“I'm not”

She looked at him, let her eyes flash for a second.

“Sure”

--

“Are you ever gonna tell my mom what you are?” Cora asked.

They were in his house.

“Maybe. I think. One day. I don't know” Stiles said.

She sighed, already knowing that was gonna be his answer. She sat properly on his bed and looked at him, that look that said she wasn't happy with him but still couldn't be angry because she loved him.

“You know, I can continue bringing books from the library all that you want, but it would be easier to train your shiny powers-”

“Spark”

“-if you had someone to help you” she said.

“You help me”

“Someone who is not thirteen”

He sat properly too.

“I'm good with you” he shruged. “I've always been a self-taught person”

“I know that” she said with a hard tone.

Stiles grimaced, he didn't want to touch that topic right now.

“And I'm going well with just the books. I already learned how to hide and change my heartbeat, hide my steps, my scent, muted noises, burn stuff, paralyze things and break bones, and in only two years. I would call that good progress”

Cora looked at him a little longer before she sighed.

“Okay, yeah, you're doing fine on your own. I still think you should tell mom about it”

He shruged again.

“I'll do it, just not really soon”

His friend gave up at the end, knowing she wouldn't win this battle, and three hours later she went back home.

At the door and saying goodbye to her, he remembered they needed groceries, so he took some money and got out.

In the way at the store he made a mental list of what he had to buy since he forgot to make one, he didn't need to buy a lot since it was only him and his dad, but he needed to know if he had enough money.

After half an hour in the store, Stiles came out of the establishment, happy he got everything he wanted and still had extra money.

He was going to go straight home when he felt something.

A ghost pain.

Similar to the one he felt when the Hale House was in fire.

He started to walk to a hardware store, even though he didn't know why and he had never gone to that place before. Inside there, he walked, passing next to ropes, wires and batteries, until he got to a hallway with tasers.

There was a woman.

Blonde. Tall. He would probably find her pretty if she didn't make him want to open her chest, take her heart and step on it until it was just a bloody mass of skin and nerves.

She turned to him, then smiled.

“Well, hello” she said, an amused voice that just made Stiles want to cut her tongue.

“Hello” he said, trying to hide the dicomfort he was feeling.

“Are you lost?”

He shaked his head.

“Oh, then you want one of these?” she pointed at the tasers.

Stiles noded. He walked to her.

“They seem fun”

The woman laughed. And he just wanted to rip her throat.

“That's something curious for a boy like you to say. I think I like you”

He wanted to gouge out her eyes.

“I like you too, what's your name?”

She looked him up and down, she didn't speak for one full minute.

“Catherine”

Lie.

“K or C?”

“With C”

“It's cute”

“And yours?”

“Michael”

They stayed in silence for a while.

“I should go, my parents only gave me five minutes”

He started to walk away from her, but her voice stopped him.

“Weren't you going to buy one?”

He looked back at her, then smiled.

“My dad said I could see them and tomorrow he would buy it. I think I want one like yours”

And he got out of there.

Stiles went home, put the groceries on the fridge and the pantries, then took his phone and texted Cora.

Ask your mom if she knows a female hunter whose name has a K

He waited two minutes before he got a reply.

Cora: She started to shake, asked me why I wanted to know and then said Kate Argent

Cora: Stiles what happened?

He let out a curse.

What did Derek say was his last girlfriends name?

This one only took a minute.

Cora: Catherine

He let out another curse.

I have to go

He didn't wait for a reply. He hid his scent and steps, then he got out of his house and walked to the reserve.

It was a bad idea. He should have told Talia about it. It was a really bad idea.

Once he was a long way into the reserve, he started to walk more carefully, not wanting to step on something by accident. Stiles wandered for some minutes not knowing where to go, but then felt that pain again and his feet moved by themselves.

He quickly found Kate, who was being followed by four men, clearly hunter by the guns and various weapons they had on them.

Stiles wanted to hurt them, torture them, extend their death as much as he could.

But then he thought better about it.

He wasn't well trained yet, he didnt know how to fight, and the Hales were close and he still didn't want Talia to know about him.

So even if he wanted to take his time, he actually didn't have that option. Instead he chose the easier thing.

Fire.

Without a second thought, with all the power he had in him, he paralyzed the five hunters and, before they could begin to scream, muted them.

He walked to them and stood up in front of the only woman. He saw how her eyes widened in shock.

“I lied to you, Kate, I don't like tasers, I prefer other things”

In a second, the four hunters behind her were covered by high flames. The fire was so strong, that all that was left once the fire disappeared after a minute was dust.

Even Stiles was surprised.

“I didn't expect that”

Stiles shaked his head, sat on the ground, and then turned his attention again to the woman.

She was looking at him with hate.

“You hurt Derek, and I'm sure you were the mastermind behing the fire two years ago, so I'm gonna try to make it slower for you”

The hunter wanted to say something, even if she wasn't going to be heard, but she couldn't open her mouth before she was surrounded my fire.

Stiles managed to make it slow. He could see the way her hair burnt, how her skin turned red to be bleeding raw flesh and then bone, he saw her pretty face become an abstract painting of hate, disgust and pain.

When everything was done, he got off the ground and started to walk home.

He had to tell Cora what happened.

--

Stiles dodges the hunter before swinging his bat and cracking it against his head, looking at the way his neck breaks and how the bat and ground get covered in blood.

He hears the click of a gun and then a growl, he turns to see Peter ripping out a hunter's throat, his claws dripping crimson liquid and the body falling down. Before he can say something, his wolf turns to another hunter who is distracted and mercilessly jumps over him.

He's really mad because their dinner was interrupted.

He can't continue thinking about it when he sees from the corner of his eyes a hunter.

The man suddenly paralyzes and Stiles hits him on his ribs, making him fall. He starts to hit him repeatedly on his chest, stomach, legs and face, hearing how the bones break and the head loses its form. A puddle of blood and another fluids painting the ground.

He's a little mad too.

Stiles turns to the body with the broken neck and starts to hit it in a similar way, focusing more on his head than the other, hitting until no one could tell who this person was before.

He remembers this one shot Peter.

When he's done, he turns to his lover. He looks for a moment at the bodies close to him, seeing their open throats and chests, one of them without eyes and the other doesn't have skin in good parts of its face. His attention goes to his wolf, who was breathing heavily.

He walks to Peter, takes his hands and rest his head on his shoulder.

“You're indeed grumpy today” he says.

The wolf doesn't respond and stays still, Stiles can feel him taking breaths of his scent.

“I can't forget the first time I felt you. I was surprised by the little kid who smelles like ozone, petrichor, honey and fire”

Stiles takes his face, smiling when Peter leans on the tact.

He gets close and kisses him.

The kiss is needier than the one of this morning. He feels Peter putting one hand around his waist and one behind his neck, Stiles feels him graze his tongue between his lips and then chase his tongue. He moans when Peter draws away to bite his lips and then seeks for his tongue again.

Stiles can feel his mind going hazy as Peter sticks his hand under his shirt, passing his finger for his spine and then resting on his ass.

With all the self-control he has, Stiles moves his hands to Peter's chest and puts some space. He sees the sulky look on Peter.

“Though I'm not against continuing this later, I still want to know why you're so angry”

“I can tell you later”

“I want to know now”

His wolf makes a face before moving away. He watches him look for something in his pocket.

“I wanted to do this in another moment, but I guess I don't have an option”

He looks at Peter confused when the wolf raises his hand between them.

There's a ring in his hand.

Stiles stays quiet.

Seeing his lack of reaction, Peter puts the ring on his finger.

A ring. On his finger.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god”

Peter doesn't talk yet.

“This is- you are- that's why- now-” Stiles can't find the words.

The oldest looks at him with an amused smile while he continues babbling for another five minutes until he finally talks.

“Mieczysław”

Stiles shuts up.

“Do you want to marry me?” Peter asks.

He feels the tears falling from his eyes.

“Yes” he whispers. “Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes! I will!”

Peter smiles brightly at him, so pleased and happy than Stiles can't think on anything more beautiful.

He gives a step forward and takes Peter's lips with his.

The tears are probably mixing with the blood on their faces, they will have to get rid of the corpses soon, and maybe his dad won't be very happy with this.

But he doesn't care, they can take care of that later.

Right now, it's just them and the ring on his finger.

#stiles stilinski #peter hale #steter #request #I'm so happy I finished it #fanfiction #fanfic #murder husbands #my writing