but i was really eager to do them so i did them first

Captain Steve Rogers, Lovecraftian Horror

Title: The Miskatonic Project
Rating: PG-13 for horror themes, death
Summary: Abraham Erskine may have invented something new with the Serum – or maybe he re-created something very old. Something…Elder.
Notes: I should be working on like three other fanfics but I had a TERRIBLE DREAM this afternoon and anyway this only took about half an hour to write.

***

Steve came out of the Vita-Ray machine…different. 

Of course he looked different – taller, thickly muscled, skin gleaming. But it wasn’t the change in his appearance so much as the…sensation people felt around him. Howard claimed not to feel it, and Erskine died before he could weigh in. Peggy felt it, but not in the way others did. To her, he seemed otherworldly, but like an angel or a religious vision – comforting under a layer of unreality. She even liked the strange black pupils he’d developed, so big and dark you could hardly see the whites of his eyes at all. 

Others, however…. 

She didn’t see him pull the Hydra agent out of the submarine after Erskine’s assassination. Only three people did – a cab driver, a little boy, and the boy’s mother. The cab driver wouldn’t say a word, and the boy’s mother stuttered and stammered so badly they finally gave up. The little boy just said, “Well, he got him,” and looked admiringly at Steve. 

Steve wasn’t wet, but the submarine lay on the deck of the pier, and the man next to it was dead, a rictus of horror on his face. 

(There is a readmore below! Read more!)

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Loki and Children

I have been having some thoughts about the original mythological Loki and the thought that has been on my mind most is this:

Loki is

1. Surprisingly great with kids

2. Is addicted to parenthood

Let me explain.

As to the first bit, well, yeah, it’s surprising. Or it should be at first glance. Because, seriously, this is fucking Loki. Standing in close proximity to him for longer than a minute is bound to result in theft, arson, a splash of bloodshed for color, and at least one confused party waking up in bed with the fucker. He’s a chaotic, manic, and generally hazardous force to be reckoned with.

To us. That is, adults.

Mortals, gods, giants, trolls, dwarves, et cetera–but only those who are mature.* *Read: there is Something to be Gained from conning, seducing, or otherwise messing with us. Whether it’s to save his own skin, or to get some sweet petty vengeance, or to steal a bauble, or to satisfy some carnal itch, or to just fuck up somebody’s day for the Hel of it, Loki only ever targets those he can take something worthwhile from. 

And what is there to take from kids? 

Plenty of folks on his extremely extensive Enemies List have children, of course. No one in the Norse mythos was especially mindful of dropping their seed. So. Children.

Children–easy to fool, easy to make a hostage, easy to charm and siphon their parents’ secrets and treasures from–should be great big bullseyes to the God of Mischief and Trickery and Assorted Other Unscrupulous Things. Yet there isn’t a single Edda or snippet of lore in which Loki makes cruel use of them. Not once. 

But what’s the big deal? Most of the rude and/or villainous characters in Norse mythology don’t bother with harassing kids either. Except in the case of stories like Loka Táttur.

Loka Táttur is a tale about how a farmer loses a bet with a vicious troll who swears to kill the farmer’s little boy. The farmer calls upon three gods in turn. Odin, Hoenir, and Loki. Odin and Hoenir both disguise the boy and hide him away, but the troll is too clever and each time manages to sniff out the boy’s hiding place. Ultimately it is Loki who hides the kid–pulling an Idunn-in-a-Nutshell gag and hiding him as a speck on the eye of a flounder in the water–and then, rather than stepping back as Odin and Hoenir did from their work, he sits in his boat and lets the troll see him.

The troll, being suspicious, asks what Loki’s business is. Only fishing, obviously. The troll demands to join him. Lo and behold, they bring up a wealth of flounders, including the one where the boy’s hidden. Loki manages to change the boy back to his true shape and hide the kid behind his back without the troll noticing. As Loki brings the boat back to shore, and to the farmer’s boathouse with the latter’s doors open, Loki tells the boy to run through the boathouse. He goes, the troll gives chase, and the troll becomes wedged in the entryway. 

At which point Loki proceeds to chop off the troll’s legs and stick an iron stake in the bastard’s skull. Then he walks the kid back home. The grand payoff for Loki after all this? 

The boy is safe. The troll is dead. The End.

Huh.

Now, much as Loki may have been the catalyst for a lot of corpses pre-Ragnarok–see his business with Thor getting his hammer back and leading more than one giant into a death trap–Loki is actually very rarely, if ever, one to get his hands dirty by killing a victim himself. Even Baldr was done in by an arrow he aimed with blind Hod’s fingers. So why did Loki personally orchestrate this plan in such a grisly way? For what gain?

What, other than the satisfaction of personally slaughtering the would-be child-killing prick troll?

In a less bloody narrative, we see his hand in getting Thialfi and Roskva, a pair of mortal siblings, taken into Thor’s service. While the exact ages of the two aren’t mentioned, they are young enough to still be in the care of their parents. When Thor and Loki are travelling it’s their father who invites them under their roof. Thor’s goats are slaughtered for the evening meal and–in some tellings–it is Loki who entices the son, Thialfi, into breaking a leg bone to taste the marrow. When morning comes and Thor resurrects his goats, one has a broken leg.

Thor’s visibly pissed—never ever a good thing–and so the family offers to make some compensation.

Loki, coughing through his hand: ThialfibroketheboneheshouldpledgeservicetoThor

Thialfi: Uh–

Loki, clearing his throat: Alsotakethesistertwoforonedeal

Rosvka: But I didn’t do anything—

Loki, en sotto voce: Kids, consider your options. Teensy mortal lifetime of toil on Midgard, harvesting dirt and snow on one hand. Potentially immortal lifetime, I don’t know, scrubbing giant blood off Mjolnir in Thor’s hall on Asgard on the other. Verdict?

Both: Sold.

Loki: Excellent! Really, Thor, you’re a master dealmaker, a born barterer, I’m in awe.

Thor: Wh—

Loki: AND WE’RE BACK TREKKING LETS GO

Cue laugh track.

Point being, Loki has been shown to purposefully go out of his way to help kids because…because. Yet how does this translate to the idea of him being good with kids?

I ask this purely hypothetically and am trying not to laugh as I do, because really. Really. How in the hell is a kid not going to be entertained by the Norse god of revelry and recreation?

Oh yeah, that bit’s often left off the résumé.

Loki, God of Mischief, is also God of Recreation. Play, in other words. Because playtime is a thing that is Chaotic rather than a product of Order, and so Loki is naturally all over it. There are some who even credit him with having added that trait to the first humans, Ask and Embla, while Odin, Vili, and Vé were carving them and breathing character into their souls.

On top of that, he’s also the god of flyting—poetic shit-talking.

So we have a shapeshifting, storytelling, magic-wielding, game-spinning, trickster god who can also teach young ears every bad word they could ever hope to learn, and he’s expected not to be a hit with kids? This is all without even mentioning the fact that Loki is a bit of a hyperactive attention hog all on his own. What better audience for him than a gaggle of credulous little onlookers who are too young to sneer at his antics rather than take delight in them? Children are wee balls of mischief themselves, muddled in with imagination and wonder and an eagerness to be wowed or made to laugh themselves into weeping.

All of which brings me to point number two:

Loki is a kidaholic.

Like, even though a lot of his and/or her sleeping around the Realms can be chalked up to an insane libido, there’s also just the sheer number of kids they’ve produced to factor in. Maybe more than even Odin or Thor could boast. At least half being born from Loki herself. Not because Loki was helpless against the workings of nature—it’s impossible to believe that Loki wasn’t smart enough or powerful enough to get around producing new Lokisons and Lokisdottirs with every other bedmate—but because Loki wants more kids. There will never be enough kids.

The guy’s got a case of severe paternal/maternal hoarding going on. I mean

Loki: I need another one.

Odin: You really don’t.

Loki: You’re right. I need two other ones.

Odin: I am positive that you do not.

Loki: Three. Triplets. Need them. Right now.

Odin: Loki.

Loki: Four? Four. Definitely four.

Odin: Loki, please.

Loki: Yeah, let’s go with four. I can give or get. I’ll flip a coin.

Odin: Loki, as Allfather, I am expressly forbidding you to impregnate or be impregnated for at least a century.

Loki: Fine.

Odin: …

Loki: …I’ll settle for three.

Odin: What did I just say?

Loki: Three’s a good number, isn’t it? All good things come in threes. You and your brothers—

Odin, fighting an aneurysm: You and your brothers—

Loki: So you agree!

Odin: I did not—

Loki: Three it is!

Odin: Loki—

Loki: Be back when I feel like it

Odin: Loki

Loki: Give my love to Sleipnir

Odin: LOKI—

Loki, pantsless, vaulting over the wall, cartwheeling towards Jötunheimr’s Ironwood forest: Bye

It’s in that Ironwood that he meets Angrboda and fathers a giant wolf, a giant snake, and the literal corpse-faced queen-goddess of the dead by her. Being that Loki’s scope of attractiveness/aesthetic acceptability is elastic enough to let all sorts of species between his legs, I find it hard to believe that his kids’ unique looks would repulse or even faze him. They’re his children. Therefore they’re great.

And we all know how that happy family ended up. Ditto his second family with Sigyn and his two little twin boys.

Enter Ragnarok, warfare, general Bad Times, and so on.

Anyway.

Comical as it is to envision a Loki who cringes at the notion of parenthood and/or fears his more monstrous children, I just don’t believe it lines up with what we know of the Loki of myth.

Myth Loki is a god who would spend hours entertaining a child, simply entertained that the child is entertained.

Myth Loki is also a god who would hunt down and methodically dismember whichever idiot thought it would be okay to make a child cry within said god’s earshot.

Destiel, Bi!Dean and preparing the audience for a “shocker”.

I just did a re-watch of 12x10 and it really got me thinking again about Benjamin and Cas’s talk in the car with the boys about Benjamin and his female vessel.

At the time the episode aired, I think I was so excited about the prospect of Cas being in a female vessel, and how this could potentially shift a heteronormative audiences perception of Dean and Cas that I didn’t realise just what else they were trying to do.

This is about reassurance.

This is the conversation that was had in the car:

CAS: Benjamin is always very careful. Long ago, he found a powerfully devout vessel in Madrid, and her faith, it… she gave him everything – her trust and her body.

DEAN: Wait. So Benjamin’s a woman?

CAS: Benjamin is an angel. His vessel is a woman. But it – it’s – it’s more than that. She’s not just his vessel.

Just this small exchange is important as exposition for the audience. It is about preparing the audience for what is coming up. The idea that Cas was also once ‘a woman’. Which, okay, no he wasn’t a woman, he just had a female vessel, but imagine how that would have gone down had this exchange not taken place? Imagine how a general audience would have reacted to Cas and his female vessel had Benjamin just been another angel in a male vessel?

Probably a lot like the way Dean acted here, with confusion.

By giving us the Benjamin character and this particular scene as well, the writer has successfully prepared the audience for Cas in his female vessel. Preventing raised eyebrows and confusion because the audience will remember this conversation and apply it to Cas.

“Castiel is an angel, his vessel WAS a woman. His vessel is now a man, Cas is still a dude and it’s not weird. Cool beans.”

(when I think of a general audience watching SPN lets just say that I certainly don’t think of the fandom or tumblr. I think of my brother and that is something I won’t get into here. Heteronormative doesn’t even begin to cover it.)

The fact is, making one of your three main lead male characters a woman for an episode is a weird thing to do, the kind of thing that would probably make some audience members uncomfortable. So adding in this exposition, this reassurance, removes that level of discomfort, it gets them used to the idea first, like a buffer.

See for a show like SPN, whilst its always been a bit weird with its story lines, it’s never been all that progressive. As much as we would all like to wish that all SPN viewers were like us – liberal forward thinking people who are willing and eager for TV to break a few taboos – the chances are that is very much not the case. Its an old show, it has an established audience (apparently a bipartisan audience amazingly) and therefore breaking boundaries the way more modern shows have (such as American Gods, How to Get Away with Murder and Orange is the New Black) just isn’t really in the cards. Those shows established the taboo stories, the queer main characters, the representation, from the start. They built their audience on those foundations. SPN can’t do that without isolating part of its audience – unless it thinks very carefully as to how it may present such notions.

I hope I am explaining this in a way that makes sense. See this is of course about Bi!Dean and Destiel (as if anything on my blog WASN’T about those topics). Because here’s the thing. On any other, newer show, for Dean to come out as bisexual, for two male lead characters to enter into a homosexual relationship, it wouldn’t be a big deal. Those shows could build their audience around those concepts, because they would be ingrained into the show from the start.

For Supernatural, that sadly isn’t the case. SPN didn’t clearly establish Dean as Bisexual early on, and Destiel isn’t canon, it has always been the subject to interpretation with just enough ‘no homo’ so that anyone who chooses not to see it doesn’t have to (again, excluding 12x19 but we’ll get there)

One of the biggest hurdles to getting bi!dean and canon destiel, is for the SPN creators to overcome this fear that half their audience would reject them if they actually went there. It would be seen as coming ‘out of the blue’ and all those heteronormative people would raise their eyebrows and moan and be utterly confused by it.

That’s why Supernatural needs the buffers. It needs the gradual exposition, the subtle desensitisation of a general audience to anything even mildly “progressive”. If Supernatural wasn’t putting these buffers in place already, I would think we would have a problem. I would be much more apprehensive at even the idea that destiel could be a thing that is actually happening.

What is so fantastic, is that just like in 12x10 with the fem!Cas buffer that was Benjamin, we have already been getting buffers all throughout the last few seasons.

Here are some of my favourites:

  • Jesse x Cesar – 11x19 – These guys are my absolute favourite, they were created specifically to show the audience that you can be a gay man and also a macho man. That gay men aren’t stereotypes, that hunters can be gay and settle down and especially that gay romance doesn’t change the theme of the story. The big take away from this episode is that it shows the general audience that men like Dean Winchester can be gay/bisexual.
  • Hannah – 10x17 – This was a real eye opener for any Cas x Hannah shippers. Because Cas didn’t treat Hannah any different, and he had exactly the same warmth and affection for Hannah in her male vessel that he did in her female vessel. Basically this was a nice punch in the face for any homophobes watching. SPN doesn’t care about your heteronormative ships. You wanna ship Hannah x Cas? Fine! But Hannah’s in a dudes body now and guess what? Cas doesn’t care! How do you feel about THAT?
  • God is Bisexual – 11x20 – This was just a nice big fuck you to homophobes everywhere. Don’t like queer characters? This is NOT the show for you! Because in our world even GOD is queer! Yay for LGBT representation! It works as a buffer because once again it is sending a message to the general audience that this is the kind of thing you can expect on our show. We are changed now.
  • Dean rides Larry – 12x11 – Okay so maybe it’s not an obvious buffer, but it is kind of a subliminal message so I’m counting it. Dean riding that damn bull was the most sexual scene we have had on this show in seasons (and no that god awful thing that happened in 12x02 doesn’t count – nor does the same god awful thing from 12x08). The jokes alone, the sexual innuendos. This entire episode is loaded with subliminal messages basically screaming at the general audience to maybe just consider the fact that Dean likes guys.
  • 12x06/12x20 – Max Banes – like Jesse and Cesar Max works as a buffer because he is another way to get the general audience used to the idea that characters that are similar to Dean Winchester can be queer and it’s no big deal. Max is badass, funny, smart and charming and also 100% canonically queer (whether gay or bi we know textually that he is totally into dudes). Sam and Dean don’t bat an eyelid at his sexuality, so neither should the audience. It is just one part of his character and certainly not what his story is all about. Max is proof that you can have a queer character who is a badass and a hunter whose story is basically nothing to do with their sexuality. Their sexuality just happens to be a part of who they are.
  • And finally – Destiel – season 12 – I’m making this its own buffer because honestly? There is no way to view Dean and Cas’s relationship as non-romantic at this point. I think that the writers have slowly been turning up the dial on Destiel probably since 11x18. 12x19 really drummed it in for us though. The angel/human love themes of 12x10, the textual “I love you” in 12x12, the MIXTAPE and everything else about 12x19. This is all preparation. It is indeed a build up to a reveal. Destiel is it’s own buffer and even if people do still accuse it of ‘coming out of nowhere’ once it goes canon, all the writers have to do is gesture at season 12 and the fucking mixtape scene and say to those people “in what universe does the gifting of a mixtape between people who are not explicitly related NOT have romantic connotations?” Only a fool would argue with that if they had any knowledge of pop culture history. Sorry, but that’s the truth.

Anyway, that’s my thoughts on that. A show with a long established audience about to make a move that could potentially appear (but not really) out of left field would need to build up that move through a series of well thought out buffers, symbols, themes and subliminal messages before actually making it.

Like how Benjamin was the writers way of normalising Cas’s female vessel, the past two seasons have been a journey to normalise bi!dean and destiel in preparation for making both of these things explicitly canon. Yes we still have a way to go - it still needs to be stated explicitly in the text that Dean is into guys, in love with Cas bla bla bla, but we are getting there.

In summary. Destiel is endgame. Dean is bisexual. The general audience better learn to throw their heteronormative goggles in the bin because this is the state of this show right now, and it is good. 

Putting Lipstick On A Pig

by reddit user Pippinacious

Except for the whole murder thing, Courtney James seemed like a lovely young woman. She was bright, articulate, a dedicated college student and well liked waitress at a popular restaurant.

I met her when she was sitting in an interrogation room at the precinct. She was a bit on the larger side, dressed conservatively in pastel colors and minimal makeup, and when I came in, she introduced herself with a polite smile, as if we were meeting for a job interview as opposed to a police investigation. She had declined to have an attorney present, so I got right to business.

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The Dress

Hey guys! This is an imagine about the reader doing her best to tease her friend, Tom, because she’s unsure of his feelings for her, in a really hot dress. I’m not even going to lie to you, this story is pure smut? The middle is soft and sweet, but everything else is ?porn? I hope you like it!

The Dress

She and Tom had been ambling through the various art exhibits at her city’s center since before ten A.M., and after they were invited to a lavish restaurant with a group of their friends, she insisted that she change her clothes. From a simple, floral sundress, she slipped into something a little more uncomfortable while Tom waited in her living room, doing his best to keep his integrity and not to sneak a peek. Truth be told, he thought that she looked beyond fine in her sundress. The back dipped low and he could tell that she didn’t have a bra on, plus the flowing fabric of the dress shifted around as she walked and Tom enjoyed flashes of her smooth legs. She looked sweet and innocent, and there was something absolutely perverse in Tom that just wanted to mess it up. Alas, they had chosen to take it slow, so take it slow he tried.

    As soon as they had met, Tom knew that she was the only girl for him, but as of then, she wanted to focus solely on her education. He understood, of course, seeing as her schooling was on the same level of importance as his acting, and he didn’t want to disturb her. He couldn’t bare to be without her once he had began to know her, so he settled for being her friend, but he was positive that it was slowly killing him.

    She was the most kind-hearted person that he had ever come across, always doing what was needed to help others. Beyond that, he’s made the mistake of accompanying her on her trip across town to babysit her cousin’s children where he discovered that she was also the most nurturing soul out there. During their stay at her cousin’s home, he had watched as she simplified Philip Roth’s, ‘A Defender of the Faith,’ into terms so easily understood that four year olds could pick apart the intended theme. Beyond that, she answered all of their questions, even the ones that had him snorting under his breath, with complete respect and sincerity. It was right then that he could feel himself drifting into the haze love with her.

    He felt his heart warm towards her again when they went out for dessert and she took a bite of her sundae, eyes blissfully shut as her lips closed over the chilled spoon. As soon as her lashes fluttered open, she offered Tom the next bite. Ever since then, sharing had been their thing and it was hurling him into love with her.

    She wore his clothes, always giving them back smelling of her perfume. He borrowed her favorite books, films, and favorite places in the city to hide out and be alone. Time and time again, when he was in immediate need of a vehicle and couldn’t find one to rent fast enough, she had handed over her car keys without a second thought. Tom smiled as he waited for her to get dressed, fiddling with the ginormous copy of Edgar Allan Poe’s short stories, a personal favorite of theirs to read.

In her room, she stood between two options. One dress was wholesome and cute, a typical outfit of hers, and the other was daring, sultry and, for lack of a better word, tiny. She hopelessly coveted Tom’s affection, but she was unsure of how to obtain it. Sure they had flirted from time to time, but she wanted to make him want her indefinitely, and if the dress would help her accomplish that, than so be it. He was all that was in her heart and all she wanted to do was to immerse him in love. Her best friend had encouraged her to purchase the dress for this very reason, and she refused to let something so pretty rot in the back of her closet. Slipping on some high heels and adding another coat of mascara, she exited her room.

“Are you ready, my love?” Tom called as he listened for the sound of heels clicking against her wood floors. He turned around and saw her before she could respond.

    She looked so lusciously risque that Tom couldn’t even form an eloquent thought in his brain. In the crest if the hallway, she stood in front of him wearing a dress so small and delicate that Tom was certainly convinced he could tear off her body using only his teeth, and sweet heavens, oh how he wanted to.

    “Holy mother of fucking hell,” Tom hissed through gritted teeth, “you’re going to fucking kill me, babydoll.”

    Truth be told, her dress had been located in the lingerie section of the store, but after sending photos of the dress to practically every contact in her phone, despite Tom, she decided it was approved nightwear. People wore less and got away with it all the time, she thought.

She was dressed in a soft, blush-toned, silk nightie that barely reached the top of her thighs. The straps were made of lace and the front dipped low so low that if she were to bend down to touch the floor, the dress would move to reveal her bellybutton. Her back was exposed, seeing as the nightie was backless and she’d made sure to get the next size up so it would be just baggy enough to show a little side-boob. The heels she wore were tall and nude, and they elongated her legs so well that they looked endless.

“Ready?” She chirped, making a show of swinging her hips as she walked past Tom, eager to unveil her dress’s scandalous lack of backing. She heard him mumble unintelligible curses once more.

“You, are you, wearing, you’re going to wear that out?” Tom asked as he locked the door, realizing that there was absolutely no way that he was going to make it through dinner with her when she was practically naked in front of him. He knew it was not his place, or anyone’s place, to dictate what she wore, but he was seriously concerned for his sanity at this point. He was either going to need to leave early or masturbate in the bathroom.

She cocked her head to the side to gaze up at him through her lower lashes, “yes, Tom,” she said, placing her hands on his chest, “why wouldn’t I? Don’t you like it?” She knew full well that she was laying it on thick, but she was determined to break him down.

He swallowed thickly. She was looking at him how he always imagined she’d look at him in bed. Her eyes were glossed over, she rolled her lower lip beneath her teeth, her chest moved rapidly up and down, she smelled like freshly picked daisies and Tom knew he was so beyond fucked. Was she doing this to him on purpose?

“I just don’t want you to be cold is all,” he stuttered out, which was true, but not his only unease about her napkin of a dress.

She’d thought this out as well. It had come to her understanding that Tom liked to see her in his clothes, so she smiled up at him, leaning even closer if humanly possibly and with her lips pressed an inch away from the base of his throat, uttered, “could I borrow your jacket? I don’t have one that’ll go with my outfit, but I really like yours.”

Tom coughed, “yeah, of course you can, sweet girl,” before removing his jean jacket and draping it across her shoulders, praying that she would at least button it up.

Curling her arms around Tom in a hug, she whispered words of thanks and left his coat perched gently atop her shoulder blades. She turned and began to make her way down the apartment complex’s hallway, not waiting for Tom to catch up.

“I’m going to die,” he mumbled before readjusting his jeans and hurrying after her.

On the walk there, she had teased him like no other, and Tom was becoming not only extremely hot, but very bothered.

First, she’d paused and asked him if he could check to see if her buckle on her heels was broken. She had rationed that she would do it herself, but her dress was too short. Once he’d knelt down, she’d shifted so that her leg was lifted almost over his shoulder and ruffled her hands through his hair, claiming that she needed to steady herself so she didn’t fall. She let out at airy groan as soon as his hand curled over her ankle to hold her still, brushing off his raised eyebrows as her just being sleepy. Tom had gotten a clear look at the white, lace panties she was wearing by accident, but he suspected she had done moved just so he would see.

Then, she had asked him if he could hold her phone for her, seeing as she had forgotten her bag. When Tom said that he could, she ignored his outstretched palm and slipped her phone directly into his jean pocket herself. Frankly, Tom was getting a little pissed off.

To make matters worse, when they rode up in the elevator together to reach the restaurant, they’d unluckily gotten stuck on the busiest ride. When he crowded into the corner, she had made sure to rub her bum against the bulge in his jeans the entire way up, apologizing when they got to their floor, telling him that she was just too close to the man in front of her. At this point, Tom knew better. He didn’t know what she was playing at, but he was going to demand to be informed as soon as they were alone.

He’d just have to make it through dinner.

    However, Tom couldn’t even make it through the appetizers before he demanded to speak with her alone. Their friends had taken notice to her attire immediately after she took off his coat because it was so different than what she normally wore and had teased the pair throughout the entirety of their time together.

    Everyone was well aware of their feelings for one another, and did their best to mush them together as often as possible. Due to their party being so large, she was practically sat on Tom’s lap and she offered him food straight from her fork, which wasn’t unusual for them, it just felt different tonight. There was nowhere Tom could put his hands without touching her bare skin and he’d just about lost his mind.

    Securing a firm hand around her waist, Tom yanked her back roughly against his chest, “we’re going out outside right now.” They were sat so close together that Tom could hear her heart beat faster.

    “Why?” She asked, her brow furrowing.

    Tom stood, wrapping an arm around her waist and leading her away from their meal, “are you honestly asking me why?” He scoffed, grumbling out a half-assed lie about where and the reason that they needed to leave. Tom was all too prepared to endure the taunts from their friends, he didn’t care anymore.

    He led her through the sea of people, pushing past without a single ‘excuse me.’ Tom knew that he was being a dick but he didn’t have it in him to care. If she wanted to make it her mission to provoke him, as she clearly had, Tom was sure as hell going to let her know that she succeeded.

    As soon as they were far enough away from the crowd to not be overheard, he whipped around and exclaimed, “what the fuck is this about? Have I done something to you? Have you lost your mind?” Tom began to pace up and in front of her, “like I know you must realize what you’re doing to me?”

    All of her bashfulness returned. Teasing Tom all day had honestly worked her up too. He made her feel so wanted, and thoughts of him touching her and her touching him had wormed their way into her mind throughout their evening. She’d never thought that he would confront her about her actions, and now that he was, and he looked so good doing it, she didn’t know what to do with herself.

    “What do you mean?” She asked, focusing on the uneven sidewalk rather than to meet Tom’s gaze.

    Sighting a cramped corridor near behind a closed shop, Tom took ahold of her hand and dragged her into the corridor’s cover. Now, they wouldn’t be seen by anyone as long as they were quiet.

    He breathing hard and he knew he was pressed into her and she could feel his hardness poking against her leg. “Darling, don’t you dare play like that. I swear I’ll lose my mind,” he raked a hand through his hair, “well, more than I already have.”

    She gnawed on the inside of her cheek, knowing that as of right now, she could either be brave and possibly turn their friendship into something much larger, or she could apologize and have things stay the same. Harrison had mentioned that Tom had feelings for her right after they’d met, so she prayed that he still did.

    She fluttered her long eyelashes and stood on her tiptoes to wrap her arms around his neck. “Do you want me?” She asked, doing her best to make her voice as sultry as she could.

    Tom was hesitant to move from her touch. She smelled like freshly picked flowers, he could feel her breasts rise and fall with her intake of breath, and she was looking up at him through her lashes with parted lips and it was too much for him to handle. “What do you mean?”

    Her next sentence was almost impossible for her to choke out. She was losing her confidence, did he really not know what she meant or was he playing dumb to avoid hurting her feelings? “Do you wanna kiss me?” She averted her eyes before quickly adding, “it’s okay if you don’t.”

    “Sweetheart,” Tom started and she stumbled away from him, not even waiting to hear what he had to say.

    “Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh,” She stuttered, ignoring his pleas for her to come back to him. She couldn’t believe that she had just spent the entire night humiliating herself.

    Tom jogged down the street after her, thanking the universe that the heels she wore were so high that she couldn’t really move too quickly without falling over. He curled a soft hand around her arm, pulling her back into his chest.

    “You didn’t stop and listen to me,” Tom chided, before wrapping another arm around her to keep her in place. “What I was going to ask you is where this is all coming from? You said you didn’t want anything other than friendship, and I don’t want this to be just a one night thing. You mean too much to me for that. I’m just confused is all.”

    “I wanna be with you, Tom, isn’t that obvious? I really like you, and I just thought that if you didn’t like me, maybe this would help?” Her eyes were tearing, her brain was melting and her hands shook. She couldn’t concentrate on anything but him.

    Tom let out a belly laugh, “what are you talking about? Of course I like you, I’ve been telling my mum for months that I love you! This is ridiculous, you didn’t need to do all this!” Tom exclaimed, his words not registering in his mind until a soft ‘oh’ fell from her lips.

    “Can, could, you, do you want to say that again?” She stammered, covering his lips tenderly with her own before Tom even had a chance to respond. Breaking away almost as soon as she started, she took his cheeks in her palms and whispered, “I love you.”

    Everything was happening so rapidly, and Tom firmly grasped her waist and pulled her in to kiss him. They made-out so furiously on the sidewalk that they got numerous honks and catcalls from passing cars and bikers alike.

    Tom groaned into her mouth when her body brushed up against the hardness constricted by his black jeans. “I love you and I wanted our first kiss to be romantic, but I swear to god darling, if we keep at this, I’m going to ruin these pants.”

    She kissed the corner of his mouth before taking his hand and pulling him behind the corridor Tom had found a few minutes before. As soon as the corridor’s pillars provided them coverage, she sank to her knees in front of Tom. “I’ve never done this before, so you’re going to have to teach me.”

    “No, no, I didn’t mean that you had to do this, not if you don’t want to,” Tom said, urging her to get up as the image of her on her knees for him made his jeans even tighter, if that was even possible anymore. He couldn’t imagine her doing it to him here, well he could, but he didn’t want her to feel obligated to suck him off before she was ready, especially seeing as this was her first time.

    “Tom,” she said, without budging, “I want to. I think about it all the time.”

    He cursed again, the thought of her getting off to thoughts of him was almost too much. Tom palmed himself through his jeans.

    “Just tell me how you want me,” She said, her voice sounding as Tom imagined silk would feel against his skin.

    “Fuck,” he mumbled, “you’re sure? If you wanna stop, just say so and I’ll be okay with it.” Tom bent down to kiss her, already planning to reciprocate back at her apartment. “I’m not going to last long because you’ve been prancing around nearly naked all night long.”

    A blush spread across her cheeks as she began to undo his jeans.

    Tom moaned as soon as she touched him, and he moaned even louder when the warmth of her mouth slid down his length. “Fucking hell, baby,” he rasped out, begining to instruct her on how to take him.

    After about ten minutes, he was done. He was struggling to still his hips and his hands had tangled themselves into her shiny locks, and Tom knew that he was going to finish. He swore that if she gagged again, he’d blow right there.

    “You’ve done so well, sweetheart,” Tom groaned, removing a hand from her hair to place it on the hollows of her cheek. “Let me finish it.”

    She didn’t halt her movements but Tom could tell that she was confused. At this point, she was taking him so deep that he could feel her fluttering lashes against his skin.

    “No, darling, I’m going to cum. If you don’t wanna swallow, you need to stop.” Tom advised, not having the willpower to move away from her heavenly mouth.

    On that note, she started bobbing her head even faster, and taking Tom so far back that he was almost positive he was going to hit the back of her throat. He cursed, unable to form a coherent sentence, all he could think of her how good she felt. A moment later, he came down her throat, and she sucked him off even through that.

    When she released him from the slickness of her mouth, the first thing Tom did was bend down to kiss her swollen lips. “I fucking love you,” he groaned breathlessly.

    Her eyes closed and she drifted into the warmth of his touch, “tell me again.” And Tom did, helping her to her feet and removing the jean jacket she’d given back to him at the restaurant. Tom helped her slide it on and buttoned it up almost all the way.

    He kissed her nose, “what do you want to do, my love?”

    She beamed shyly up at him, “can we go home and do it again?”

    Tom pressed an openmouthed kiss to her neck, “oh yeah, baby, you haven’t had your turn yet.”

   


That's Not So Different

@lovelylangst, I saw your idea that Voltron is hit by a spell by Haggar that makes them all revert to their original languages and I loved it so much I made a fic out of it.
I don’t know if you like your ideas being written out, so if you don’t, tell me and I’ll take it down.
Also, I kinda changed the idea a bit, so basically Pidge is perceptive and Allura is an oblivious bastard.

I don’t usually write ff alright.

Word count - 2000+

Pidge stumbled out of her lion, her bayard clasped to her chest, wheezing. Her voicebox felt like it had been clapped in hot iron, and black lightning sparked painfully from her armour where Haggar’s spell had struck Voltron. It had lanced all the way through the metal, and Pidge had heard Hunk whimper in pain.

Keith was sliding down Red’s leg. Some of his armour was shattered - no doubt from the hit - and his helmet was off. Sweat stuck to his forehead. His violet eyes were wide, and full of fear. He didn’t seem to want to look at her.

Hunk and Lance were nowhere to be seen - hiding out still in their lions, probably, like a mouse from a cat’s claws. Shiro eased himself out of his lion’s mouth. His helmet was off, too, but he looked unhurt. Voltron hadn’t won - but they’d escaped. For now, they were safe.

“Shiro! Pidge!” Allura came sprinting up to the hangar, her silvery hair flying behind her - she hadn’t bothered to tie it up. Coran was running behind her. “Lance!”

“He’s… He’s still in his lion, Coran,” stammered Pidge. “Oh, God, that was a hit… I feel all weak.”

“It must have been the komar,” deduced Coran, his hands a flurry at the scanner. “That spell Haggar devised. Do you feel like you’re going to pass out? Are you hurt?”

Pidge shook her head, shakily. “No,” she muttered. “I’m f-fine. Just shaken.”

“Keith? Shiro?” asked Allura. Her eyes were wide. “Are you hurt?”

Keith shook his head. Shiro opened his mouth to say something, but Keith, swift as a whip, stuck his hand over Shiro’s jaw. Shiro glared at him, and pulled his arm away.

“Shiro -”

There was something different about Keith’s voice.

It seemed more accented, sounding a little like Shiro’s when he mumbled to himself in Japanese. Keith didn’t seem eager to say much. He had deactivated his bayard, and was staring at it like he’d lost purpose. Pidge felt a rush of fear, down to her toes. Something was different, and if Keith was acting on it, then something was not only different, it was wrong.

“Kīsu, sore o yame nasai -”

Shiro clamped a hand over his mouth.

Pidge glanced at him, curiously. “Shiro?”

Shiro’s eyes had gone terrified. His cheeks were pale as chalk.

“Shiro?!” Allura sounded scared, her hands tugging at her hair in apprehension. “What’s happened? What was that?”

“Japanese,” Pidge said, exchanging a look with Keith. “Shiro, are you okay? You look -”

She wanted to say like death, but she felt like it might be considered a bit too rude and out of place, seeing as they had just nearly died anyway. Shiro looked like he was going to throw up. Keith, standing beside Shiro, put his arm on Shiro’s shoulder, and led him away without a word.

“What’s going on?” spluttered Coran. He was tapping at the blue lion’s leg with his communicator. “The lions are running, but Hunk’s been knocked out and Lance just won’t leave his! What’s wrong?”

“I think,” said Pidge slowly, “that something is different.”

Slav came running in, just as the blue lion’s jaw opened. The noodle alien paused, his eyes round.

“Oh, so you survived,” he said. “The probability of that was highly unlikely. Are you sure you’re alive?”

“Yes, Slav,” muttered Pidge. “Go do something else now.”

Slav didn’t move. He twisted a whisker like tendril around his mouth with his top pair of arms, like the way Coran did.

Footsteps tapped behind her, and Pidge looked back.

Lance limped towards them, taking off his shattered helmet. One eye was bruised and puffy. His knee trembled under his body weight.

“Lance!” Pidge ran up to him, but before she reached him, he collapsed, smudging blood on the floor. Allura gasped, and ran to join Pidge beside him.

Lance’s body was battered with bruises. His eyes were closed, one swollen with blood and purple. His armour was a mess, but at least he was breathing.

“Is he okay?” Allura whispered.

“I think so,” Pidge confirmed. She took off her glasses and pressed the lens to Lance’s bruise to test the severity. While she did that, Coran helped a very dazed Hunk out of his lion. He looked confused, but unhurt. Better than Lance and Shiro, at least.

“Why was Shiro speaking Japanese?” Allura asked, in an offhand voice. Pidge looked up.

“Native language,” she shrugged. “People tend to switch to their native language when they’re shocked.”

“Really?” Allura sounded interested. “What’s yours?”

“Sarcasm.”

Allura sighed. “English, right?”

“Yeah,” Pidge admitted, looking a little guilty.

-

“How’s Lance?” Pidge asked.

Coran was standing by the healing pod, twisting his moustache. He started when Pidge spoke.

“Pidge! Oh, you scared me!” He wiped his forehead. “He’s alright. He wasn’t badly injured. An hour more, and he should be raring to go!”

“Right, thanks.”

Coran eyed her.

“How is Shiro?”

Pidge sighed. “Still in shock. Babbling to Keith in Japanese. Clear to God Keith doesn’t understand a word of it.”

“Oh, really?” Coran looked interested. “Had Keith spoken yet?”

“No…” Pidge suddenly realised where Coran was coming from, and a jolt of horror shook her. “No, Coran. That doesn’t happen to us. Besides, neither Keith nor Lance have spoken, and they have English as their first language.”

“Not Keith,” said Coran. “His family - ignoring the Galra side - come from Korea. They moved to Texas before he was born.”

“Fine, Lance then.”

Coran glanced at her, before saying, in a controlled voice:

“Druid magic is capable of many things, Pidge.”

Pidge shrugged.

“It’s different, certainly.”

-

“So, you’re saying…” Allura tapped her nails on the table. Around her, sat Pidge, Coran, and Slav.

“Yes, princess,” said Coran, not needing the question to be finished. “Earthlings have many languages. It’s totally possible.”

“That’s true,” admitted Slav. He fiddled with his fingers, his beaklike mouth quivering.

“Admittedly,” Allura said, “you could be right. But then why is Lance not speaking? He speaks English, doesn’t he?”

“Yes, princess,” said Pidge. “That, I don’t get. He’s biracial, Cuban-American… Maybe he speaks Spanish.”

Allura snorted. “Trying to get attention, more like.”

“Hey!” Pidge retorted. “Lance isn’t like that! Don’t go like that! When he’s breaking like that, it’s dangerous!”

“Pidge, he’s like that every day!” Allura complained. She looked away from Pidge’s angry face into Coran’s concerned one. “So, I chase down Lance, and then we wait for the magic to wear off?”

“If it wears off.”

Pidge glared at Slav. “You know, for someone who’s always complaining about the odds, your pessimism doesn’t exactly help.”

“It doesn’t?”

Pidge fought the urge to throw Slav out the airlock.

“Princess, your idea of ‘chasing down Lance’ doesn’t seem to work in my mind,” Coran fretted. “He’s earned some rest.”

“Which he has now had!”

Coran sighed.

“Y'know, Princess,” Pidge said, trying to relieve some tension, “maybe I should just go get Lance.”

“No,” said Allura, standing up, and brushing her hair behind her in a determined fashion. “He won’t take it seriously if you deliver it. I will.”

And before anyone could say anything, Allura left, shutting the door behind her.

-

“Lance?”

Her fingers stung underneath the icy feel of the doorframe. The sky-blue light swept over the stooped figure hiding in the corner. Cloaked in an olive jacket.

“Lance?” Allura stepped cautiously forward, before gasping, and taking a few hesitant steps back.

Lance was crying.

The blue paladin sat hunched, her forehead on his knees and his tan hands wrapped over his face. Tears glittered on his hands like liquid diamond, rasping unintelligible words to the floor.

“Lance!” Allura said, for the third time, but now her voice filled with panic. She didn’t know why - Lance had always irritated her, even after he had stopped his stupid flirting game - but the Lance in front of her looked like the last kind of person to flirt with a princess. What she could see of the gleam of his blue eyes he was raw with sadness.

“Oh, my god,” Allura whispered. Lance didn’t look up - had he even heard her?

She heard footsteps behind her, and saw Pidge and Keith. Both of them looked stricken. Keith had his hands over his mouth as he hurried to Lance’s side. His eyes gleamed, and he looked horrified.

Pidge stood, her hands on her bayard. She looked angrily triumphant, accusing eyes on Allura, hissing, “I told you! I swear to god I warned you!”

“I - I…” Allura didn’t have the words. She bit her lip, shaken.

Keith was whispering words in Korean, his hands in Lance’s, trying to make him look at him, wiping at Lance’s tears with the hem of his cropped jacket. Allura caught a few words off the side.

“Ulji mal-ajuseyo. Jagiya, ulji ma.” He kissed Lance’s tear-streaked cheek and wrapped his arms around him.

Allura froze. Only speaking one language. Keith’s words were worthless when Lance didn’t know what they meant.

Lance’s eyes glowed a sharp, water blue through the darkness, fixed intently on Allura. He looked more angry than sad now. Suddenly, Allura felt a chill in her blood that had nothing to do with the cold castle.

“No tienes idea,” he spat. “¿Por qué me subestimas? Quiero que mires más allá de tus propias esperanzas por una vez.”

Only one language.

Oh, God.

She had never been more wrong about someone.

Pidge had gasped a little at Lance’s words, but Keith didn’t move. He kissed Lance, on the lips this time. Tears shuddered down his face.

Allura took off running, not wanting to see anyone. She knew Lance’s tears came from more than just pain, of not having anyone understand him. The way he looked at her… It was her fault. All her fault.

When she reached her own room, she cried almost as much as she had seen Lance doing.

-

Pidge sat at Lance’s side.

She hadn’t known something for sure. Guesses weren’t good enough. She cursed herself.

Not knowing something certainly - that was different. Pidge didn’t like different things.

-

“Where is he?”

Pidge looked wary about telling Allura… Anything… About Lance’s position. He looked pretty broken from their encounter from yesterday.

“In his room,” Pidge said eventually. “Keith is with him.”

Allura nodded mutely.

“This is your fault, you know,” she said accusingly.

Allura sighed. “I know. I’ve never been more wrong about something.”

Pidge turned her head to the blueprints on her lap, and didn’t say anything.

“I was wrong,” Allura repeated. “I didn’t listen to you. Not to Keith when he said that Lance needed more recognition. He nearly died for Coran… God, if Coran had died..” Her eyes drifted off into space, but she made them stoic and rigid again.

“I don’t know a thing about Lance,” said Allura. “I didn’t pay enough attention to him - not even so I knew he loved Keith and Keith loved him back, not so I knew he cried like that… I was wrong. You were right. He didn’t speak because he couldn’t. But when Keith and the others didn’t try, I didn’t care, and Lance could easily have been unable to speak as much as the others. But no, I was stupid. I thought he was flunking. I was wrong. You were right, he was bilingual. Spanish is his main language. Worst of all, he couldn’t tell me… But would I have listened?”

Pidge didn’t stop Allura, idly listening to her words whilst tapping on the electronics.

“I was wrong,” she repeated. “You were right. It’s always you who’s right.”

Pidge blinked. Then she smiled, cocky.

“Me, always right?” she asked. “Yeah, that’s not different. That’s not different at all.”

{PART 17} I Won’t Stop You // Jeon Jungkook, Vampire!AU

Originally posted by jengkook

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Vampire!AU, Fantasy, Angst, Smut

Summary; As Taehyung finally reveals his creation to you - you find yourself sharing soft, tender and heartfelt moments with both him and Jimin; before being reunited with Jungkook - The Prince and Princess of the Ball.

I update this series every Tuesday evening, 9pm-10pm (UK Time) 

{Part 1} // {Part 16} {Part 17} {Part 18}

Keep reading

love letters ❥ peter parker

summary : peter, hopeless romantic that he is, has a cache of love letters, all addressed to you, hidden under his bed and expertly crafted. he never anticipated them being read, or the feelings he has for you being returned.

word count : 3.1k (holy fucking hell i’m sorry)

   Peter couldn’t help it, the way that he was. He was a romantic at a heart, though the awkwardness of him had a tendency to prevail rather than the confident, smooth talking, small part of him that had a desperate desire to reveal itself. Spider-man was as suave as a fifteen year old boy could be; Peter Parker was awkward, inept at participating in normal, human conversation and often incapable of forming coherent sentences more often than not. He wasn’t the best at talking to people besides Ned and Aunt May and- on occasion- Tony Stark. Especially not you. If there was one person that he turned into an absolute bumbling, ridiculous mess around, it was you. He loathed himself for it, sure that you thought that he was weird, annoying, the same way that anyone who didn’t know him assumed he was. 

   Ned, however, continuously insisted that you found Peter to be a sweetheart, like anyone who got to know him well enough did, and that you liked him very much- perhaps more than a friend, though Peter had immediately scoffed at the notion. It was out of the question, downright ludicrous. But, of course, Ned had implanted the idea in Peter’s head, and now the boy’s ever creative mind refused to stop constructing various scenarios in which you were Peter’s girlfriend and he was as happy as he had ever been. 

    While he had been a perfectly charming boyfriend in each and every one of those little dream sequences of his, he was hopelessly lost for words whenever you approached him, unable to even ask what class you had next, let alone reveal the pure adoration he had been holding on to ever since you had been placed beside him in Bio in your freshman year. You had always been the one to stick up for him and smile at him and treat him like a decent human being, and so of course he fell for you, and now he could barely look you in the eye without his cheeks turning a lovely shade of pink. So, he bottled his feelings and let them out in a way he had never known could help him.

    He wrote. 

    He wrote to you every single day and poured his heart out in every single letter and expressed every thought he knew, in his heart, he would never be able to say out loud. Writing what he felt was so much simpler than saying the words out loud. That was what he assumed, anyhow. He took his pen and placed it down on the paper, starting it the same way he always did. 

   Dear Y/N… As always, the words spilled over from his mind to the paper as if he wasn’t thinking, just writing and writing and writing until he had filled two pages without lifting his curly head from the paper once. When he finally finished, a yawn stretching across his mouth, he noticed Aunt May standing outside his door. He turned his chair around, raising his eyebrows at her. 

   “Writing to that pretty girl again?” She asked, hand on her hip but wearing a knowing, soft grin. Peter, not bothering to feign shock, nodded solemnly and placed his pen down the paper. “You should think about maybe, oh I don’t know, actually giving her one of the letters you’ve written?” 

    Adamantly, Peter shook his head. “May, I could never. You don’t get it.” He swiveled around in the chair, spinning it until he was dizzy. “These letters are embarrassing. They’re practically my whole heart and soul on a piece of paper. She’d scream and run away if she read how I felt about her.” He sighed, placing his elbow on the edge of the desk and resting his cheek in his hand. He stared up at his aunt, still craving her sage advice. May stared back at him thoughtfully. 

   “Well, in my personal experience,” she came over and gave Peter’s shoulder a squeeze, eyeing the letter that was signed with Peter’s name, “girls are suckers for love letters. And you Parker men write the best ones out there. Trust me.” 

   Peter bit his lip. “Yeah, sure, I’m not an awful writer. But, I still can’t give them to her. I just can’t.” Before she could say anything else, he was folding it up and placing it on top of the shelf on his desk next to his books for English. “Uncle Ben was different. He was charming. You know that.” 

    May smiled wistfully. “I do.” 

    “And that’s one thing that I didn’t get from him,” Peter finished, shrugging his shoulders as he stood up from his swivel chair. “It’s fine.” He waved it off. “I’m happy suffering in silence. I’m gonna go to bed. Big English project starts tomorrow. Love you,” he kissed May on the cheek as she left his bedroom, switching the light off in her departure. He stared at the wall once he was situated in bed, mulling the conversation over in his head. Maybe May’s right. Maybe telling Y/N wouldn’t be as bad as I’m thinking. Maybe I’m overreacting. Actually, never mind. She probably hates me. Ugh. Life sucks. 


    That morning, when he arrived in his English class, you were sitting in the seat that had been previously occupied by Ned pretty much every class since the beginning of the school year. Sucking in a breath, Peter took his first step into the classroom. He knew he was a little late to today’s lesson, but he hadn’t realized he was a full fifteen minutes behind schedule. Ned was in the back with Michelle, giving Peter an encouraging thumbs up when he noticed his best friend finally arrive on the scene. Peter gave him the finger. 

   “Mr. Parker, lovely for you to join us!” Ms. Matthews declared when he decided to shove himself through the door, his heart jackhammering away in his chest and making its way up to his throat. He kind of wanted to throw up. 

   “Um, yeah, well, you know, sleep and whatnot- overslept, haha,” he coughed out a laugh, scratching the back of his neck. The teacher nodded with faux sympathy, though he could tell she didn’t care that much for his explanation. “I’ll just, um, sit. Down.” 

    “Next to Y/N, please,” She instructed, waving her hand in your direction. “Since you were late and unable to choose your own partner, surprising since usually Ned is so eager to work with you, Y/N offered to be your partner.” The teacher gave you a fond smile, as every teacher did. “She can explain the details of the assignment.” 

    Peter gave her a stiff nod before sliding into his chair, and you noticed how rigid he was as he turned toward you with a slight frown. He seemed extremely upset to be working with you, but you wouldn’t let that get in the way. You liked Peter. Really, truly liked him. He was a sweetie whenever he actually talked to and different than the rest of the guys at Midtown. He was genuine.  

    Giving him your full attention, you beamed at him. “Hey, Peter,” you said cheerfully. He gave you a small smile in return, wringing his hands under the desk. He couldn’t stop fidgeting. Your own smile dropped, which he noticed immediately and felt awful about. “Sorry you didn’t get paired up with Ned,” you continued, taking your books out of your shoulder bag. “I know you would’ve preferred it that way-” 

    “No!” He interrupted quickly, practically slamming his hands down on the desk so hard you jumped in your seat, eyes wide. “Sorry, sorry, I just, um,” he laughed a little, his cheeks burning, “I’m, um, happy to have you as a partner. Really, I am,” he added as an afterthought, just to make sure you knew. 

   Your shoulders relaxed as you looked at him. “You’re not just saying that, right? You seem awfully stiff,” you teased, poking his uncomfortably positioned arm as you quirked a brow. 

    “Do I?” He was practically sweating. 

     “I was just joking, Pete. It’s cute, anyway.” Peter’s eyes, a shade of brown that you had come to think of as warm as honey, went wide and he gaped at you, but you pretended not to notice. “So, for the assignment we have to write a short story based on one of the assigned reading books this year.” 

   She called me cute

   “Shit… I think I forgot all of mine,” you were mumbling, your head practically stuck in your bag. “Did your bring yours, Peter?” 

   Oh my god, she thinks I’m cute. She thinks I’m cute. I’m going to faint

   You snapped your fingers in front of his cherry red face, trying not to appear as amused as you felt. He blinked owlishly, an apologetic half smile, half grimace on his face. He was cute most of the time, but especially when he smiled, even if it was only a forced, awkward one. “Do you have your books, Peter?” You repeated kindly. 

    “Um, sorry, I’ll check,” he answered, embarrassed about his utterly obvious staring that had just occurred. He rummaged around in his backpack before realizing he had forgotten them, as well. He popped back up, curls in disarray as his head brushed against the fabric of his bag. “I forgot them, sorry,” he ran a hand through his hair, messing it up even more. It was kind of adorable.

   “You need to stop apologizing for everything, Pete,” you laughed. “It’s fine. We can get started after school. My place or yours?” You were already packing your things, and before he could think about what he was about to do, he said, “Mine.”   

    “Cool,” you grinned again, a grin that made him want to smile for the rest of his life. “Which one of is doing the writing? Or do you want to split it?” 

    “You’re a, um, fantastic writer,” he told you, having read your submissions to the school newspaper more times than he could count. “If you wanna take over, you can. I can edit and stuff.” 

    “Aw, I’m not that good,” you shook your head abashedly, looking down at your lap. “But thank you, Peter. I’m sure you’re great, too, though. Are you sure you don’t wanna write some of it?”

    “I’m not much of a writer.”


    So, you were in Peter Parker’s room. He was having his third heart attack of the day, and was incredibly grateful that he had managed to keep his wits about him for majority of the day. He had only tripped over his words five times, tripped literally twice, and dropped his Metro card once, but it was fine. You helped him back each time he fell with your usual grace, barely acknowledging his multiple social faux pas and only laughing once because he fell over a small dog- which even he would admit was pretty funny. 

   Still, his palms were sweaty around you and he didn’t know how he was going to survive working so close to you for the next week while the English assignment was occurring. He lead you into his apartment and you noticed that his hands were shaking slightly as he twisted the keys in the lock. You walked into the apartment, the first thing crossing your mind was how cozy and homelike it was. You liked it very much. 

   “It’s really cute in here,” you said, smiling around the room as Peter busied himself with a glass of water. He downed it quickly. “Where’s your aunt?” 

   “Work,” he replied, catching his breath after the gulping down of his water. “Here, let’s go to my room.” He placed his glass of water on the counter and motioned for you to follow him, opening the door to his room and wincing at the mess in there. “It’s a mess, sorry about that.”  

   You rolled your eyes at him playfully. “Didn’t I say stop apologizing?” You entered his room as if you had been there many times before, taking your shoes off and setting them by the door. You threw your bag on his bed and took a seat in his swivel chair, and he liked how natural it seemed for you to be in his room. He liked how comfortable you were, sitting there. Something about it made him happy. 

   “Yeah, my bad,” he shrugged. You tilted your head, pointing your finger at him while he raised his hands defensively. “It wasn’t technically an apology!” He took a step out of the room. He was finally being normal around you, he realized delightedly. He would still need more water, though. He could feel his mouth getting dry. “I’m gonna get more water. Want anything?” You shook your head, spinning around in the chair as he left. 

   Your eyes scanned over his desk, taking in every inch of Peter Parker’s life. He had bad books stacked everywhere, his desk was a mess, there were clothes thrown about the room. Star Wars posters, Avengers posters, notes scattered across the desk. You admired the artful messiness of it all. You leaned up to where his English books were, spotting the one you were most interested in and yanking it off the shelf. As you did, a folded piece of paper fluttered down off the shelf, just when Peter was walking back into the room. 

   “I thought you said you weren’t a writer, Pete,” you raised your eyebrows at him, holding the letter in your hand and waving it at him. 

   He almost threw up right there. “Um, I’m not, please give that back,” he reached for it, but you jumped out of the chair, raising the letter high in the air. “Y/N!” He whined, grabbing for it again. “C’mon, please,” he pleaded desperately, pouting at you with such intensity it almost made you want to give it to him. 

    “Can’t I just read a sentence, Peter?” You pushed out your bottom lip, batting your eyelashes at him. 

     He almost gave in. “No, Y/N. Seriously, give it back.” He sounded scared now, upset as well. You pursed your lips, handing it back to him. He was so anxious about you reading it that it dropped on the floor, opening far enough so that you could see your name scrawled across the top in Peter’s defining chicken scratch handwriting. 

    “That says my name, so now I have to read it.” You stood directly in front of Peter, hands pressed together in a pleading motion, the expression on your face so genuinely interested that he had to give it to you. He picked it back up with a lump in his throat and handed it over, scared as ever. But this was what May had advised. Maybe she’d be right. 

    “Dear Y/N,” you read aloud in a loud, terrible accent, glancing back up at Peter as you read the line after that. He was staring down at the floor, preparing himself for what you were going to say when you read the letter, read his heart. You sat in his chair, realizing it’d be better if you didn’t read it so publicly. He sat down on his bed, waiting. 

   Dear Y/N. This is maybe the tenth letter I’ve written to you, and each time I say the same thing, so if one day you are reading this in proper succession, I’m sorry for being so utterly repetitive. You’ll probably never read this, though. And that’s why it’s so easy for me to write. I think you’re the only person to ever truly be interested in me when I’m talking about science. Not even Ned has an attention span that long. But you do. And you don’t know how much I want to thank you for that. You make it really difficult to not like you, to not be in love with you. I think that’s what it is… love. And if I’m not in love with you yet, then I’m certainly falling for you. Who wouldn’t? You’re a wonderful person without trying, you’re a beautiful hurricane, a sunset on the horizon of my bleakest hours, and you make me feel as if I’ve been standing in the sunshine for my entire life. 

   You put the letter down, smoothing it over your lap. You didn’t need to read the rest. That was enough. Peter gazed at you now, the way you’ve yearned to be looked at before, and you shamed yourself for being so blind these past two years. He wasn’t simply just staring. He was looking. Admiring. You slid next to Peter, placing the letter behind you. He moved his hand, curling his fingers around yours tentative as ever. Your free hand grazed up the side of his face, toying with the hair on the back of his neck before resting on his cheek. He shut his eyes. When he opened them again, you were so close that he was able to count each individual eyelash that you had, every single fleck of pure beauty in your deep eyes. 

   “I like you very much, Peter Parker,” you murmured. He felt his heart soar, and then, he felt himself kiss you. It was an out of body experience. He was there, he was the one kissing you, the one who had initiated it, but it felt like he wasn’t. He was up in the clouds, too far lost in the way it felt to run his hands through your hair as he had always dreamed of to notice Aunt May sneaking past the door, overjoyed to see Peter finally with the girl he had been loving in silence for far too long. You pulled away from each other, eyes opening slowly and hesitantly and your lips practically still connected. 

   He wanted to tell her that he adored her, but Aunt May’s voice flowed from the kitchen too loud to overpower his thoughts. “You read her the letter, didn’t you? I told you it’d work! Worked for your Uncle Ben and I was right as I always am!”

   He jumped up from the bed, sticking his head out of the doorway and pressing his finger to his lips. “Maaaayyyy, you’re embarrassing me,” he whispered-yelled, practically whined. “You were right, okay? Thank you, let me go get a girlfriend now. The girlfriend.” She beamed at him, but no one’s smile could shine brighter than Peter’s. 

    He retreated back into the room, and you were clutching the letter in your hands. You looked up at him hopefully. “I was thinking that maybe you could read me the other nine letters. If you’re up for it.” 

    Peter couldn’t possibly say no, taking a page out of his Uncle Ben’s book the way he should have done in the first place as he found the hiding spot for the stack of letters he had been writing for the past few months, sliding them over to you and feeling confident for the first time in a long time.

Writing is Hard, pt 9: Sexting

Summary: You send Dean some dirty pictures.

Read Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Warning: Smut, taking pictures during sex

Word Count: 2600ish

A/N: This is all written with love for fan fic. I’m teasing, not putting it down in any way. Hope you enjoy! (Sorry, tag list is closed!) XOXO


You hold up the phone, then almost instantly put it down.

This is stupid.

No. This isn’t stupid. This will be hot. Just do it.

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The Smart Way

A long time ago, I worked at a big-box store, pulling boxes off trucks, stacking them on pallets, and sending the pallets out to the sales floor to stock. It was hot, tiring, and not particularly fun, but they paid me, so that was good enough.

I had a coworker that those of us in the warehouse liked to call Crackhead. Crackhead wasn’t really a bad guy, but his choice of vice was really beginning to affect those around him. Unfortunately, he had an industrious, git-‘er-done attitude, which management absolutely loved; if a supervisor told him to run head-first into a brick wall, he’d do it with a smile. Which, I suppose, isn’t all that bad either, at least as far as management is concerned. Except… “charging head-first into a brick wall” was his go-to strategy. If the boxes on the beat-up conveyor belt got stuck, his solution was to shove as hard as he could, slamming the boxes into each other until something broke or fell off and everything started moving again. Of all the breakage we experienced that wasn’t broken in transit, 90% of it was from Crackhead. We lost gallons of paint because he wanted to know what the bottom of the paint box looked like. We lost a case of shampoo because he opened it to see what it smelled like, and dropped it on the cement floor. We even lost our lunch hour once because he somehow broke the time-clock so we couldn’t clock in or out for lunch, and told management that everyone had “totally had taken lunch already” and “oh man, those guys are so lazy, they want two lunch breaks.”

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okay so i’ve always headcanoned sana’s dad as a doctor, and i’ve always headcanoned isak as a future med student, so i would picture their first meeting to go something like this: 

  • sana and isak have this big important test to study for, and they end up studying for hours and hours and it’s almost time for diner, but they’re obviously not done yet 
  • so isak stays over for diner 
  • and isak is a very polite guest. always saying thank you. and he actually doesn’t decline sana’s mom offer of a second portion, and thanks her again when she fills his plate 
  • and you know, sana’s dad is the one who asks them “how is the studying going?” and they both mumble “it’s going okay”, and her dad says “i’m sure you’ll do well. isak, sana always mentions you, her very smart friend who always gets sixes”. and isak almost raises his eyebrows at sana and tries to conceal his smile, and sana wants to roll her eyes. and isak smiles a polite smile at her dad, says “i try” 
  • and then it finally comes, that “do you know what you’d like to do after high school?” and isak is pretty quick to answer that he wants to study medicine. 
  • and her dad! he gets so excited when he hears that, his eyes literally light up. and he starts asking all these questions, like “do you know what specialty yet? would you like to do some shadowing this summer at the hospital? i could arrange that for you! sana did it last summer, and she loved it!” and sana is like “dad”, because she doesn’t want him to overwhelm isak with all these questions, but isak just has this big smile on his face, and he tells her dad that he’s not sure what his specialty will be yet, and he thanks him for the offer, and tells him that he’d love to
  • so yes, sana’s dad is really really fond of isak. and the nice thing about this is that…isak has never really had that, a paternal figure who gets so excited about his studies, about his future. he never felt like his own dad really cared, he certainly didn’t get all excited when isak first told him he wanted to study medicine. but sana’s dad really seems to care, and is so eager to help and answer his questions 
  • and most importantly, this reminds isak and sana that they’re so glad to have found each other, this other caring friend always challenging them and helping them grow, this friend they share this very important common interest with. they’re so glad to have each other when they apply to the same university, when they both get in, when they both meet up on the first day of school, when they both sit next to each other in class, ready to face this new adventure together 
  • and sana’s dad, aaaah, he’s there to cheer them throughout this entire journey!

imoyu-trashblog  asked:

While reading your Gaston headcanons and just imagined where he picks you up to carry you across a large puddle, only for him to trip on a loose stone. Oops, both of you are covered in mud now. Fluff ensures...?

I said no but i couldn’t stop mySELF.

Originally posted by good-gay-sherlock

Title: Muddy.
Pairing: Gaston x Female!Reader.
Words: 3,104.
Rating: T.


It had just rained not ten minutes ago, and vendors were already back on the street. Some didn’t even bother protecting their produce and products and let the rain do what it wanted. It wasn’t the typical gentle sort of rain either, it was a consistent downpour that wasn’t expected by anyone in the village. You had sought shelter under a small patio of a neighbor as it happened on your way to get some eggs. As a result of the heavy rain, the Earth now smelt clean and fresh. It was a soothing scent, one that made you forget your worries, if only for a few minutes. Giving your kind neighbor a smile for letting you stand under their roof, you waved at them, saying, “I’ll see you later,” before stepping out. A few drops of water hit the top of your head as they dripped from the roofs edge.

Drawing a deep breath in, you began walking. Tightening your shawl around your shoulders, you were appreciative of the sun now peeking through the clouds above. It would warm up soon, drying everything in the process. Mindful of your steps now as most of the ground was either emerged with water or was a seeping puddle of mud, you ran into the sights of a friend.

Friend wasn’t the right word, you thought and looked at Gaston with curious eyes. He was currently checking himself out in the window of the bakery, smiling on and off. Probably checking the wrinkles around his mouth, you laughed to yourself, remembering how he told you that women found them to be rather attractive. ‘It gives me a sort of… Older appearance.’ He told you once with a wide smirk. He was right, they did make him look different than other men you knew, but not for the reason he gave you.

The lines around his mouth gave his smirk, his smiles and his grins even more prominence and seemed to captivate those around him. As if his eyes weren’t enough to get the job just right. In fact, most of his attributes were enough to get anyone he set his eyes on, really. He was the definition of tall, dark and handsome. There were the occasional few that saw passed this facade, and you just happened to be one of them. Not that it came in much luck because Gaston had a keen sense on picking out women and men who he didn’t quite captivate. You supposed this came into play with his need for a chase. Whether it be chasing his next prey while hunting or chasing the next woman in his life, he enjoyed it regardless.

You raised your eyebrows in amusement as Gaston shot his reflection a wink and a kiss. You took this as an opportunity to walk past him quickly, in slight hopes that perhaps he wouldn’t notice you so you could get what you wanted and not linger around to talk.

He was more of an acquaintance, you decided tip toeing your way behind him, not a friend. You both knew each other, acknowledged each other’s existence, spoken here and there, flirted a bit but ultimately kept your distance. It wasn’t as if you hated him, in fact, you didn’t. You just found him to a be a bit… overpowering sometimes and it only elevated when you figured out that he was entirely interested in you. Of course, the smiles he sent your way, the tone of voice he used with you, his gestures and body language were all alarms going off telling you that Gaston thought he was a bit more than acquaintances with you, but it only hit you full on when he finally got around to asking you to have dinner with him.

It’s not like you weren’t interested him and hadn’t thought of being together with him. You figured most everyone in the village had, even the men. Gaston was certainly appealing and was very careful on making himself seem as attractive as he possibly could. But, giving a man his way when he thinks he’s entitled to it is something you didn’t want to feed into. An egotistical man is something you didn’t want to feed attention to. You owed him nothing. You were your own person and he’d have to realize that if he was really interested.

“(Name)!” Your face balled up in defeat. Stopping your movements, you turned on your heel and faced Gaston. In the time that it took you to do that, you relaxed your expression into the most neutral face you could muster. You watched rather intently as he pulled on the bottom of his tan overcoat to straighten it, clearing his throat while doing that.

You swallowed softly and smiled politely at him. “Good morning, Gaston.”

He didn’t miss a beat, grasping your hand and kissing your knuckles gently. He smiled against them, looking down at you through slightly half-lidded eyes. Your heart churned at the meager gaze that held a bit more than invested attention. He let go of your hand, almost hesitating doing so. Your hand was left to drift in the air before making its way back to your side.  “Good morning.” He finally said, his tone dipping into his chest voice. “Any plans for this evening?”

“What’s today? Wednesday?” You thought and looked around, eager to avoid his eyes. Crossing your arms in front of your chest, you thought of an excuse. It didn’t need to be a good one, just a logical one. You spilled out the first thing you thought of, “I’ve got to do laundry.” It was unintentional for your statement to come out as a question, but unfortunately, it came out that way. You just hoped that Gaston bought it as an obtainable excuse.

Slipping his hands onto his hips, you found yourself rather fixated on the shape of his torso. His fingers expanded there, cupping and holding himself as if he didn’t get enough from the women who’ve touched that very spot. He didn’t cock his waist to the side perse, and much rather, straightened his back to make himself appear even larger. The light brown pants were tailored to fit his body specifically, and if he moved just right, it left little to the imagination. His feet were a part giving the absolute definition of confidence and self-awareness though Gaston on more than one occasion, was completely clueless. At this moment in time, he wasn’t. He was thinking about your words. There was really no sense in doing laundry in the evening because if you left it out to dry overnight, the frost would most definitely freeze most of your clothes.

“In the… Evening?” Gaston inquired, his right eyebrow arching upwards in curiousity. The white ruffled shirt under the vibrant red vest lined with gold clung to his torso and defined his shape. Under the tan overcoat, you could see that Gaston was just as gentle on the eyes. Many didn’t see this for many only say the broad shouldered war hero. For a brief moment, you wanted nothing than to reach out and graze your hands up and down his sides. They appeared smooth.

“Uhm, yes.” You tore your eyes away, deciding that walking away was probably the best way to avoid any sort of eye contact. If he’s walking beside you, preferably a foot behind you actually,  it’d be hard for you to maintain gazes. Gaston followed you rather diligently, letting his eyes fall to the back of your head as you began speaking again, “It’s a lot easier to get it done in the evening when no one else is there.” That made complete sense, you reassured yourself.

“Then, can I join you?” You knew that was coming. Laughing quietly, you stopped in front of a rather large puddle that almost looked more like a pond because of its size. “I’ve never done it myself, but I’m sure you can help me.” Gaston informed you, studying the small body of water in front of you and your mild hesitation on how you wanted to get around it.

Without any chance to ask what he was doing, Gaston bent down, grasping your hips and picking you up seamlessly. It was sudden action and with your feet leaving the ground so quickly made your head reel. For a second, you were almost sure he was going to hike you over his shoulder and carry you like a sack of potatoes, but his arm remained around your waist and within moments, he was holding you rather securely while your feet dangled helplessly in the air.

Unable to protest now, he started walking forward through the puddle you were debating on how to get around. You sighed in defeat. He was nice enough to help you so there was no point in arguing now that he was halfway across. “Or better yet, you can do it for me. You see, I usually get women to do it for me, it’s amazing how they throw themselves on their knees for the opportunity really.” Gaston smirked at the thought, readjusting his grip on you.

Shutting your eyelids to reserve yourself from snapping at him, you wrapped your arms around his neck to feel a bit more stable. You could feel his muscles shift under his clothing and found it difficult to ignore the musky smell that seemed to linger with him. He smelt like the woods mixed with the smallest amount of gunpowder. You knew this wasn’t a scent you should grow attached to, but you still found yourself taking deep breaths in just to enjoy. Fluttering your eyes back open you looked at him. Your gaze was a threat in itself, telling him that he’d pay for it if he dropped you. Then, you began speaking, “I won’t do it for you, but I can show you how to do it.”

Gaston laughed quietly. He figured you’d say something of that nature and merely nodded in agreement. He shuffled slightly, feeling something under his feet slip and slide, and before he could really process what it was, the two of you were tumbling down. A few seconds later, you were sitting in a rather large puddle, covered with water and mud. Sitting up, you blinked back the mud near your eyes. You swallowed thickly and looked down at Gaston as he actually managed to catch you and soften your landing. You couldn’t say the same for him for you had actually landed on top of him.

Resting on his back, he groaned quietly and opened his eyes. Gaston looked blankly at the sky for a few seconds before rocking back into reality. Realizing you were on top of him, a small smirk crept its way onto his cheeks. You could feel the eyes of a few villagers digging into you as they watched the entire thing play out, and some villagers who just got there and were met with a rather compromising scene as you were straddling him.

Staring down at him, you came to one conclusion rather quickly. “You did that on purpose.”

“What reason would I have for doing it on purpose? I slipped on a loose stone. It does happen, I’ll have you know. I’m sorry.” He groaned while sitting up, reaching back and holding you close to him. It was unintentional and more of a habit, but you could feel the heat dancing from the tips of your ears to your face at the action. Your eyebrows rose in slow amazement.  He wasn’t usually one for apologizing for anything, even it was his fault. Gaston had a knack of making it seem like things weren’t truly his fault, so why did he take responsibility this time? You were still perched in his lap as he slicked back some of his now drenched hair, a bit offended that you assumed that he did it intentionally.

Your laughter started, soft at first before getting louder and louder. Gaston was shocked, his face twisting into an expression of confusion. “What could possibly be so funny?” He moved his head back a bit so he could see you more clearly and something inside of him slammed against his heart like a giant wave.

“You’re a mess.” You tossed your head back in absolute pleasure. You’d never seen Gaston like this before. Physically dirty and unappealing to most because of the mud, but also a bit more human for having apologize for making a mistake, for having a flaw. Grasping your sides from laughing too hard, you heard Gaston’s laugh mix with yours. Unsurely at first, before he started literally cackling. It was something that you never actually heard prior, because he had many sorts of laughs.

The cocky laughs, the fake laughs, and the hateful or scornful laughs. Those were the ones he used more often than not so to hear his actual, human, genuine laugh made yours die down so you could admire it a bit more. There were wrinkles around his eyes, as they were shut, his mouth forming what you would describe as being one of the most beautiful smiles you’d ever seen. The sound itself was a bit different as well and instead of resonating in his chest like you thought, it was a lighter, more flowful sound. Grasping a leaf that had made it’s way into his hair, you tugged it out gently and tossed it to the side. “I’ve known you for years but I’ve never heard you laugh like that.” You stated and wiped some mud off his forehead. In the process though, you had only managed to smear it with the water on your fingers.

“You best bask in it then. Not many people have heard it.” He whispered a bit too quietly and looked away. Surely, it was a subject you could press and see why he implied that it was rare for him to laugh like that, but you were in no true position to do so. You were acquaintances. If more, then perhaps you could seep into his childhood, the days before you even knew Gaston.

Leaning towards him ever so slightly, you stared into his eyes as if you were reading what emotions were swirling in them. Remarkably, as many people have told you, his eyes weren’t a complete and solid brown. You supposed that you had never paid attention to the flickers of green that were washed around the darkness of his pupil. The sunlight seemed to elevate the appearance of his eyes, giving them a much softer glow than darker light would give. Resting your hands on his chest, you swallowed back any intentions of going any further than this mishap and tried to convince yourself that standing up would be your safest way out.

You tried, but your legs weren’t moving. A refusal would be the best way to put it. Your mind was refusing to move your body, to flee from the scene. Why?

Silence ensued between the two of you as he stared back at you. From the vague expression on his face, you thought that he was going to lean forward and plant a smooth kiss onto your lips. You were positive that was what he would do had any other girl fallen with him. Why else would he need the excuse to get so close to you? His movement seemed almost hesitant and as he rested back on one arm, he reached the other up and wiped some mud off your cheek with the wet sleeve of his tan coat. You didn’t want to tilt your head towards his graze, but that’s exactly what you did. Your action led to Gaston cupping the side of your face, his fingertips damp against your soft skin. You were almost positive he could feel your heart beating against his touch.

It would be so easy to kiss you right now, he thought to himself and let his eyes drop to your mouth before seeking your gaze once again. One swift motion towards you and he’d have his lips on yours, something that he had thought about since the first day he met you. That was years ago. To pine after someone for so long was typically not his style but here he found himself wanting nothing more than to embrace you and to let you have him. Gaston swallowed, the muscles in his neck contracting as he did. He wouldn’t say that he was nervous because he wasn’t. He just found himself… Unsure of what to do now. He could kiss you and change things between the two of you forever or he could stand up, help you up and go on with life the way things were.

He had chased you long enough.

Now was the time to take some action.

You laughed quietly, pulling away from his touch, “We should probably start laundry earlier-” The sentence came to an abrupt stop as Gaston craned his head forward and captured your lips. Your eyes were wide with surprise, though deep down, you knew he was going to kiss you. And, despite that deep down feeling, you did nothing to stop him. The second he started kissing you, you had stopped lying to yourself. You wanted to kiss him just as much. You wanted to hold him closer and never let go.

It wasn’t quite a kiss, as half of his mouth actually landed on the space next to your mouth. He didn’t move for what seemed like eternity, constantly reassuring himself that he had done the right thing. And when he did move, it was to readjust his mouth so he could kiss you fully. Lifting both hands, he cupped your face tenderly while the hands that were resting on his chest rose up to hold onto his shoulders. 

You wondered what it must look like, the two of you kissing in the middle of the village, in the middle of a puddle, both soaked to the bone and covered in mud. You didn’t care about that for very long though as your eyes fell shut. Gaston didn’t completely devour and allowed you dominate slightly. Kissing him back, you squeezed his shoulders and laughed slightly when the small amount of facial hair tickled your face. He laughed as well, pulling his mouth from yours. They remained puckered, almost asking for another kiss, his eyes still blissfully shut.

You didn’t allow him the pleasure, at least, not yet as you finished your sentence from before, “because we need to get the mud out of these clothes.”


Holy crap that ended up way longer than I had anticipated. Reblogs and likes are appreciated guys, thanks for reading!

Can’t Get It Out Of My Head (Peter Quill x Reader)

Originally posted by bukcybarnes

For @ravingmadstark to whom I’ve owed this since January. 

In which you slow dance with the one and only Star-Lord. (insp.)


He so desperately wanted to be called Star-Lord, but everyone called him Quill. Except for you. You preferred to use Peter, and maybe that was why he fell in love so hard. Rarely did anyone address him without a tinge of sarcasm or playful banter in their voice—something he was very guilty of reciprocating—but when you spoke to him, he felt validated in ways he never knew he could. You gave him a sense of responsibility. A feeling of warmth and excitement. A drive in life, fueled not by a desire for the admiration of others, but rather, a need to make you feel the same way he did. Happy.

Your initial glimpse of Peter was the day of Ronan’s defeat. Hair disheveled. Clothes torn. Face scratched up. He was dancing to a song you’d never heard, and your entire body reacted. It tingled and shook from your toes, to your heart strings, up your throat, to your brain where the sensation settled, leaving only one thought. Shit.  You’d gone through life thinking love at first sight was nothing more than a myth. But there you were. In love. Or something like it. You were stubborn when it came to things like that, so you chalked it up to lust—somehow that felt more dignified.

There was alcohol involved in your first encounter. That was always how these things seemed to go. The big hero, off to celebrate at a local bar; you, the plain civilian, coincidentally at the same place, standing in a corner.  Music was playing, but the melodies were foreign, and you could only assume that they were his. Most of them were upbeat, but occasionally things would slow down a little, and that’s when he shined the brightest. He’d move about the room fluidly, pulling the other patrons close. Dipping them, spinning them, pressing his body against theirs. Leaving a trail of longing eyes in his wake. You couldn’t help but feel jealous, but at the same time, you were grateful. Unless you were alone in the safety of your room, dancing was not your forte. And so you nursed your drink and watched.

He moved closer and you got a better look at his face, confirming that he was the most unrealistically handsome man you’d ever seen in your life. It was the sort of thing that held a hypnotic element, capturing your eyes and refusing to let them free of his spell. The sappiness of it all was enough to make you inwardly wretch, but as the gap in proximity closed, it became harder to deny fact.

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100 Banging Kinks: Fuck Machine

Originally posted by complete-fandom-trashhh

Pairing: Bucky / Reader

Word Count: 651

Warning: Smut (bad horribly written smut but smut the nevertheless), language, and just toys?

This is my first time writing smut so bare with me. But with the celebration of Bucky Barnes 100th birthday, I am participating in @bucky-plums-barnes 100 banging kinks! I hope you enjoy.


You moaned lowly as Bucky took his fingers from your wet folds and brought them to his mouth, sucking them clean. “Fuck baby, you taste so good,” he cursed and you whined, arching your back in pleasure.

Bucky was sitting against the headboard, you between his legs with your back flush against his chest. He gripped your thighs and spread your legs wider, draping them over his before bending his knees so you were really on full display.

“Bucky~” You whimpered and felt his chest vibrate as he chuckled close to your ear.

“Eager are we kitten?” He asked and you tilted your head back against his chest as a blush formed on your cheeks. But your eyes never left the contraption in front of you.

A few days ago, you and Bucky made the horrible decision to get drunk and one thing led to another and that night, one of your kinks were revealed. Since then, Bucky had made it his mission to fulfill that kink.

“I want you to watch yourself,” he murmured in your ear and your eyes drifted up to where he had moved your mirror so it showed you and him everything that was about to happen. His icy blue eyes bored into yours through the mirror and it was in that moment you saw the remote in his hands.

His thumb clicked the button on the remote and your back arched again as you gasped. The fuck machine came to life under Bucky’s control and did exactly what it was supposed to.

Bucky’s arm wrapped around your stomach to keep you still as his other hand came to your breast, groping and massaging the mound as the dildo thrusted in and out of you in the first speed.

“Bucky!” You groaned and instinctively rolled your hips to meet each thrust, your eyes closing as it continued to slid deep within you. Bucky then clicked the remote again and the machine sped up its movements causing you to cry out snapping your eyes open to look at Bucky through the mirror.

“I said to watch yourself,” he growled lowly and you felt his erection against your back.

The view he had of you was intoxicating. His eyes couldn’t keep away from the dildo that pushed between you wet folds over and over again causing you to cry out and squirm in his grasp. A thin layer of sweat was stuck on your body and your legs kept tightening against his in attempts to close while your hips simultaneously moved meeting the fuck machine so it would slid in deeper.

“Bucky,” you groaned and his eyes looked towards the mirror where you were already looking at him. “Bucky, I’m close-” you whimpered and moaned your hands finding their way to his hair, pulling it as you closed your eyes again, the familiar heat forming within you.

Bucky smirked and slid his hand down to your clit, rubbing the bundle of nerves in figure eights as his other hand clicked the remote one more time making the machine go the fastest it could go. You cried out in ecstasy and your hand gripped his wrist to ground yourself as you felt your legs begin to shake.

You then felt his other hand wrap its way around your throat, squeezing just right as his breath fanned over your neck. “Cum,” he demanded and it was all you needed as the tension that built in your body snapped and your body shook as you felt what was maybe your strongest orgasm wash over you.

When you finally came down from your blissful state you realized the machine had came to a slow stop and Bucky was stroking your hair as he kissed your shoulder gently. “We are definitely doing that again.” He murmured and you nodded your head lazily, your legs still slightly shaking in post-orgasmic shock.

“Fuck yes.”

Ultimate Viktuuri FicRec

(☉‿☉✿) I know y’all have been craving some Viktuuri fics, even more so since it’s already ended and we have to wait for season 2. So what better way to pass time than to read some good ol’ fanfics. Here’s a list for you guys. ENJOY   (ノ◕ヮ◕)ノ*:・゚✧


From the moon by ButterBeerBitch

Victor Nikiforov, the living legend, winner of five consecutive World Championships and five straight Grand Prix Finals - was in Yuuri’s bed. Yuuri’s bumpy, squeaky bed, with the Pokémon stickers peeling off the frame and the unwashed sheets.
“Smells like you,” Victor mumbled, careful and coy.

Yuuri was on the verge of passing out.

-

Or that one time Victor finds out why Yuuri has never let him inside his bedroom because….well, we all know why…


Things we’re all too young to know by incode

Victor miscalculates a date.


Family Arrangements by xshiroi_aki

“It’s like watching a kid, his parents, and his grandparents.”

Her marriage status aside, it kind of made sense.

That was an arrangement she could work with.


In your area by Suzariah

“Hot Russian singles are in your area.”

Yuuri probably wishes he had adblock. Victor is amused.


Get me to the Church on time by InsomniacArrest

Stories of various characters on the day of Victor and Yuuri’s wedding.

Everyone on the big day as Victor and Yuuri prepare to get hitched.


Disaster by LFMH021

“I know that one way or another, Viktor will marry you anyway. I will be your best man right so–” Phichit stated.

Chris raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me? I’m pretty sure I am the best man in their wedding.”

Yurio frowned and crossed his arms. “I was the one who suffered when these two were still pining each other. I think I deserve to be with them at the altar at the very least.”

Yuuri and Viktor glanced at each other, torn.

Yuuri didn’t really expect that Viktor’s statement about their engagement and [if] marriage would bring disaster and chaos into their night right before the Grand Prix Final’s Short Program.


Habit by LFMH021

Yuuri has developed a habit. Before competitions, whenever he wants to concentrate and exercise at the same time, he faces the wall, braces his forearms on it and then wiggle his hips while trying to recite over and over again his routine.

With earphones in and eyes shut, he doesn’t see the way others stare at him. Viktor does, though, and try to bring their attentions away. Phichit and Chris are little shits, as usual.


Amateur or Expert? Watermellonsmellinfellon

“The instructor at the local ice rink was cute. Cute with his glasses on and downright sexy with them off. And Victor just really wanted to spend some alone time with him, but there seemed to be no free time in the other’s schedule. Which left Victor considering other methods.”

In which Victor pretends he isn’t a figure skating genius all so he could talk to Yuuri.


Next time he’ll ask by Kaylin and Kira (Saphie)

Yuuri gets experimental and tries out something new in bed – calling Viktor “daddy” – but because of Viktor’s insecurities about aging, things go unexpectedly (and absurdly) wrong. [Not a daddy!kink fic so much as a humorous subversion.]


Passive-Aggressive by JapaneseAnimeFreak16

Chris has seen many strange things in his life, but he’s never seen this.

“Victor…why are you eating cereal with a spatula?”


Love Like You by LFMH021

“Viktor, it’s your turn to throw the garbage, right?”

“Nope~ Can’t remember such an agreement~” Viktor sing-sang, tiptoeing back to their bedroom.

“Yuuri, did you eat my pint of ice cream while I was out?”

“H-Huh? No way!” Yuuri spluttered with a speck of chocolate on the corner of his lips.

With each other and Makkachin by their sides on their own cozy home with framed (stolen, random and wedding) photographs occupying most of the wall, Viktor and Yuuri couldn’t ask for more.

[Basically, just a domestic Viktuuri fluff wherein Episode 11 was resolved, both of them retired but they both applied as coaches [with Yuuri as skating tutor for kids], they got married and were now living happily in their own home with Makkachin in Spain. Alternating POVs.]


Liar Liar Pants on Fire by shingeki_no_llama

Yuuri’s (not-so-secret) secret gay crush on Victor is discovered after Victor storms into his room unannounced! How will his idol and newfound coach react?

Hint: he will be very touched *wink*


Of Onsen-Holly Water by Moe_Bear

So, here’s the deal: in order to achieve such perfection, one must obligatory have contracted with Satan himself. There is no other explanation. Yuri Plisetsky is damn sure about it.


All the Times Yuuri ran from Viktor, and the One Time He Didn’t by Reisil

Or, the five times Yuuri ran from Viktor, and the time that Viktor held on.
In which Yuuri finds that he is constantly running from Viktor, until Viktor decides he’s had enough.


Just Date Me Already by Ame (Ulan)

Victor has never wanted anything more in his life.

“Yuuri, go out with me.”

“Eeh?”


let him know by mutation

Victor returns to Hasetsu alone. When he arrives at the Katsuki household, someone is waiting for him.


remembrance by doubletan

Victor remembers the confusion, hurt and rejection when he finds the empty hotel room that had once been occupied by an individual bearing the name of Katsuki Yuri hours ago, and said individual was now en route to Japan. He remembers sinking to the carpeted floor in his pajamas before returning to his own room to curl up in his comforter. He remembers Yakov coming over to help him pack with pity evident in his eyes when the check out time had long past and Victor was nowhere to be found. And all Victor could do was lie immobile on the bed with tears he thought would never end. He remembered lecturing his own self mentally, that it was ridiculous to act this way for someone you had only met once, but yet, he could not deny the fact that last night was the first time Victor had felt honestly living, relieved from the burdens and expectations as a renowned and international ice skater. Being with Yuri had felt absolutely right.

or a fic of how a heartbroken Victor had fared since that banquet and how he finally won Yuri’s heart


Looking for A Clue by rosenlight

It takes one touch and Yuuri’s head goes haywire.


Take My Hand - Take My Whole Life Too by shingeki_no_llama

Victor Nikiforov thinks he knows just who has their thoughts scrawled so carelessly on the back of his hand. He can only pray he is right.

———
Soulmate AU where the thoughts of your soulmate inscribe themselves on your skin in a temporary ever-changing tattoo


Ask Me by MarginalMadness

Sometimes life doesn’t work out the way you want it to. Especially when you give someone else the power to break your heart.


stay by my side by paranoid_fridge

“Finally!” somebody shouts and Yuuri jumps. Russian Yuri stomps toward him, expression dark. “He’s on his third round of that.” Yuri jerks a thumb to the rink behind his back. “Make him stop before he hurts himself.”

Aka Yuuri says “let’s end this”, Viktor turns to melodramatic skating, they get to cry and kiss (in that order) and all is well in the end.


Masks off by emulikule

And so the story goes that a playboy comes to a town, makes it fall in love with him and then proceeds to get himself enticed by the most mysterious person there.

Wait… did it really go like that?


Stress Is Bad by MEIXIU

“I can’t handle this. Stress is bad for the baby.” Yuuri deadpans.
If everyone were drinking something, they would have spat out their drinks in surprise.


An Examination of Stamina by Viktor Nikiforov by Anonymous_Ostrich

“Viktor…” Yuuri’s voice was low and gravelly, his teeth grazing the bend of Viktor’s neck, “Is it really okay to keep going?” His cock stirred inside of Viktor, still rock hard, still eager. The feeling of Yuuri’s semen trickling slowly out of his stretched hole made Viktor shiver, and he grabbed Yuuri’s chin in his hand, yanking his face up so that their eyes could meet.

“I’ll say this once, Yuuri. Give me everything you’ve got. Don’t stop even if I beg for you to.”


Accidentally Seductive  by braveten

Yuuri Katsuki is a walking contradiction.

(And it’s driving Viktor mad.)


Out For A Walk by Cinnamean

Yuri goes out with Yakov to explore town and gets separated from his coach. Walking around town with no money for food, he runs into the two infamous lovebirds.


Darling, Please Don’t Ask Me by HisRedEmpress

Sometimes, letting things left unsaid can be harmful.

But sometimes, only sometimes, there’s just no words needed.


yuri is even more done with everyone than previously believed by thankyouforexisting

There are things Yuri isn’t proud of, regardless of how superior to everyone else he is. Few things, of course, but still there nonetheless, though he loathes exposing them. One of his regrets might be, for example, not reading the summary of Fifty Shades of Grey before his mom mentioned off-handedly, “We should watch it, Yura.” (He can never look at her in the same way again.)

Going out for Victor’s “ exciting stag night” (which is a terrible name for it, as it mostly consisted in him sitting down and watching skaters get progressively drunker as they tried to do jumps off ice on the corner of a busy street, while everyone stared) and allowing himself to be roped into a hopeless bet has just become his newest, most fresh regret.


Unwritten by kaizuka

Soulmates AU where whatever you write on your own skin appears on your soulmate, but when there is a language barrier, meeting becomes just a little more difficult than it should be.


A Safe Place To Fall by uchiuchi

“Can I…?”

Viktor’s voice breaks Yuuri out of his trance and he focuses on Viktor, waiting for the words to come out. But Viktor doesn’t say anything more, eyes flickering between Yuuri’s eyes and mouth, and then his finger stops moving and he pulls it back.

He looks like he has more he wants to say, but doesn’t.


I’m Right Next Door by i_like_my_eggs_benedict

“The first time he heard it, Yuri Plisetsky thought he was imagining it.”


On Our Love by LiaoftheDawn

Everything was so easy and real with Yuuri. Even with the lingering tension and the unspoken inevitability of separation, they somehow managed to fall back into something close to a routine, effortless conversation, easy jabs and quiet smiles and something he wanted to hold on to for the rest of his life. Home.

Or the one where Victor thinks he’s doing the right thing, manages to disappoint all the Yuris in his life, and still everything works out at the end.


victory cheer by SportsAnimeRuinedMyLife (KnightOfRage)

Victor kissed Yuuri. You better believe all of these people have something to say about it.

Or…Mari is exhausted, Minako is confused, Nishigori is supportive, Yakov is annoyed, Yuri is pissed, Phichit is the best friend anyone could ever have and Yuuri just wants to kiss Victor again.


Five Kisses by oh_imintrouble

It hadn’t seemed out of the ordinary at the time. Victor had always been free with his affection; throwing out compliments, light caresses, even the occasional peck to the cheek. After a little over a week of having him as his coach, Yuuri was sure he had gotten used to it. It was just a Westerner thing, no use getting riled up if Victor wasn’t going to be stopping it anytime soon.

Then it happened.

~~~

Victor likes kissing Yuuri and Yuuri is frustratingly dense


rumour has it by lunaetude

Viktor Nikiforov is a genius. He tops the level without having to study and he can perform most spells without his wand. He was the second-ever first-year Seeker in the school, and the first Slytherin one at that. He’s a Parselmouth and he’s tamed the other basilisk hidden in the school’s plumbing. He has washboard abs and really defined hipbones. He’s the only son in a long line of pureblood Slytherins and he’s half-Veela and he can speak Mermish and he was born as Voldemort’s secret daughter which is why he’s prettier than half of the girls in school and—

‘Where do you even get all these?’ Viktor asks, eyebrows drawn together in bemusement. ‘I’m not even a pureblood, I’m Muggleborn.’


Dance Along by feelslikefire

Five Times Victor Kissed Yuuri, and One Time Yuuri Kissed Victor


Hold Onto Me by novocaine_sea

“Let’s end this.” Yuuri said, but it was the last thing he meant.

That was the last thing he wanted to say.


True Eros by Nerd_Queen

Viktor can’t sleep. Thats when he hears it.

A groan


the history books are made for us by d10smessi 

Victor thinks, I’ll never love someone this way again.

or: Victor Nikiforov, on loving Katsuki Yuuri.


a kingdom, or this by perennials 

The problem is, Yuuri sees Viktor’s face light up at every performance except his own.

The problem is, Yuuri takes off his glasses when he skates.

The problem is, Yuuri doesn’t see.


Addicted (to the taste of you) by smudgesofink

It’s mortifying. Of course it’s mortifying.

But even with his hands restless by his sides and his stomach buzzing with butterflies and adrenaline and nerves, Yuuri finds that he oddly doesn’t mind the attention. Or rather, Yuuri can’t bring himself to care, for once. He’s exhausted to the bone from his performance, eyes slow and limbs heavy from running on little to no sleep for more than 24 hours now, not to mention kind of emotionally drained from his mental breakdown earlier.

If anything, Yuuri kind of wants Victor to kiss him again. Preferably right now.

At once.

Immediately.

(It’s turning into a problem.)


Five Times Viktor and Yuuri Were Jealous of Makkachin (and the one time they weren’t) by braveten

“Viktor will do whatever is necessary in order to never see Yuuri cry again. He’d walk miles across broken glass. He’d relinquish all of his gold medals to JJ Leroy. He’d let Phichit hack his Instagram account.”


Viktor and Yuuri are jealous of Makkachin on multiple occasions, but the adorable brown poodle might be the only way to get them to realize their love for one another.


constellations of me and you by theargonaut

He can’t look away from Viktor, even when he turns and catches him staring. Truth be told, he can never look away from Viktor. Not even in the beginning; surely, not in any dimension or attic of spacetime, could Katsuki Yuuri have ever looked away from Viktor Nikiforov. And when Viktor looks back at him, smiling, it’s all that matters to him.


Question and Answer by chellethewriter

Viktor is growing old, and his competitors seem to be growing younger and younger. Thus, with every passing year, Viktor finds fewer familiar faces at his Grand Prix banquets, and he wonders whether his attendance has become pointless. What he doesn’t realize, however, is that one unfamiliar, alcohol-reddened face can make the whole night more than worthwhile.


(A canon-compliant retelling of the banquet in which Viktor falls head-over-heels for a certain drunk, Japanese figure skater, and Yuri Plisetsky is both displeased and incredulous).


Pretty For Me by blushunder

A month and a half into becoming more than just skater and coach, Viktor is struck by a realization while Yuuri tries on his old costumes.


Nighttime Sparklers by brumalbreeze

“If anyone should feel lucky, shouldn’t it be me?” Yuuri murmured. “I mean, you’re the Viktor Nikiforov, after all. You could have anyone you want….”

Viktor let his breath fan evenly over Yuuri’s neck as he listened to his words. Though he couldn’t see it, he could imagine Yuuri’s knit brows and small frown. He tightened his grip around Yuuri’s waist and thought about what had happened earlier in the day. This was a different scenario, but Yuuri was feeling anxious and unsure again, and he needed comforting. Viktor didn’t want to mess up this time. He wanted to do things right.


i know my madness by astoryaboutwar

It’s hardly a secret that Victor Nikiforov is a massive player.

(In which Yuuri doesn’t blow the Grand Prix Finals the first time round, does blow Victor, and everything changes but ends up the same.)


– updated version below this  (✿◠‿◠)–


I want to stay close to you by Cloud111

Yuuri swallowed, letting his head turn back to the legend sprawled out on his bed. To the first person to reach out for him after he’d pushed them away. To the man that had taught him to love himself and taught him to want things because he could get them if only he tried.

“I want… you.”


Yuuri!!! On Pole by Noble_Nook

Viktor Nikiforov is an accomplished, world famous dancer-turned-choreographer who has struck out to rekindle a spark he seems to be missing after so many years on and off the stage, only to soon find it wrapped around a stripper pole in Japan.


Until My Feet Bleed and My Heart Aches by Reiya

‘…Of all the rivalries in the world of sports over the years, perhaps none has become so legendary as that of Russian figure skater Viktor Nikiforov and his rival, Japanese Yuuri Katsuki…’

A single event changes the course of Yuuri’s life, throwing him into a bitter rivalry with Viktor Nikiforov that spans across his entire skating career. But as the years go on, rivalry and hatred begin to develop into something very different and Yuuri doesn’t seem to be able to stay away, no matter how hard he tries.

Hatred and love are two sides of the same coin and even though everything changes, some things are still meant to be.


On My Love by RikoJasmine

For the second time, the Sochi Grand Prix Finals arrive, and with it a reborn Yuuri Katsuki. “Viktor,” Yuuri thinks over the pounding of his heart, the crowd going silent as the music begins. “I’ll show the world what you meant to me.”

Yuuri often thinks of his life as Before and After Viktor Nikiforov, the marking point being the day Viktor swept into his life and turned his world upside-down. After many years together, an accident leads to Yuuri suddenly waking up in the Before—back in Detroit, before the GPF, before he ever knew Viktor as anything other than his childhood idol.

As if it had all been just a dream.


I Wanted To Check by insatiablerealist

Yuuri is an artist, Viktor is a ballet teacher, and they find themselves sharing an apartment in Barcelona. The only problem is they speak two different languages, but despite that, they fall in love.

Love Actually AU based on the Colin Firth/language barrier storyline, you don’t need to know the movie to get the story. The setting etc is all changed but the plot is mostly the same.


you’re like heaven to touch by lazulisong

“Is this because I let you watch American movies as a child,” says Yakov flatly. “The ones where the popular boy gives his coat to the pretty girl?”

Victor puts up both eyebrows in a delicately mocking gesture that was unbearable when he was a fey creature of sixteen and makes Yakov yearn to clip him around the ears now, when he’s twenty-eight. “'Let’ me?” he says.


5 Lessons on Sexuality Victor Taught Yuuri (+1 Lesson Yuuri Taught Victor) by angel_kink

Whether Victor realized it or not, he taught Yuuri many valuable things about sexuality. But Yuuri had a lesson for Victor as well.


Move Close by SigmundFreud

Now fully awake Victor could feel his morning wood pressing against his lover’s ass. Damn. He wondered if Yuuri would be upset if he woke the student up for a short love making session before work and school.


the distance between our fingers by awkwardedgeworth

If Otabek were a bystander, he would see Victor Nikiforov being a ruthless coach, raising his voice at Yuri’s less than stellar free leg, It’s a normal occurrence, the older retired skater pointing out areas Yuri can work on.

But Otabek is not a bystander, and he sees the glint of a golden ring from Victor’s right hand, slipped around his ring finger like a reminder.

A reminder that Victor, estranged with nowhere else to go, was picked up by Yuri and Yakov to go back to Russia so he can have a semblance of a life back.

A life without Yuuri Katsuki.


I see the universe in your eyes by fangirlandiknowit

Before Yuuri realizes what’s happening, he’s been kissed by Viktor Nikiforov.

It’s a small kiss, but Viktor’s lips are soft and dry, brushing over his slow enough that he can feel the tingle of it for minutes afterwards.

It was a kiss, and-

If Yuuri wins, he can ask for another.

Maybe more than one, even.

(Maybe he’ll ask for as many kisses as there are stars in the universe.)



The Grass is Dead by ztellar

It had been two days since the house next door had been moved into, and today, Saturday, it seemed that whoever was going to live there had finally moved in themself. It was all anyone in the neighborhood would talk about, Morooka had even stopped by for a surprise visit so that he, Phichit, and Yuuri could watch their new neighbor from Yuuri’s kitchen window.


The only cue of someone even living in the house was the chitter of a sprinkler in both the front and back lawn.


“He’s got a pretty nice looking car, from here,” Morooka commented.


“Yeah but who has a nice car and moves into a shady house?” Phichit retorted, his question seemingly rhetorical. After a beat of silence he made a tch sound and cocked a hip, “Only pimps or rich kids running from their super sad and oppressive lives, that’s who.”


An Alternate Payment Scheme by exclamation

Yuri and Victor never did discuss what Victor’s coaching fees would be. When Yuri brings the subject up again, Victor has some interesting ideas.



Hell No by LoveActually_rps

Would you tell anyone when you accidentally learn that the person you adore the most and the person you hate the most are actually soulmates? Hell no! [– a novel by Yuri Plisetsky]


Buy 1, Get 50% Off by ayyyywhatsup

Yuuri is just a 21 yr old college student who is trying to win at life. When he gets into an argument with his roommate, Phichit, he rushes out of the apartment to make amends. The only shop he can afford is a dainty flower store in the busy city of Detroit.

Flower shop! AU


Then you should have put a ring on it by ObsidianAbyss

Recently, it’s become a trend for students to exchange rings with their significant others. Although Yuuri is very much single and uninterested, he wears a pretty ring that mostly goes unnoticed by his peers.
That is until Victor Nikiforov starts wearing an exact copy of Yuuri’s ring and flaunts it around.

Loosely based on Only the Ring Finger knows


He Did More Than Drink Till Dawn by TrashBambi (orewakei)

Viktor had spent so many nights fantasising about the Japanese man, remembering the way he’d ground against him as he begged Viktor to be his coach. 


Anything Could Happen by Creepikat

After two years Viktor and Yuuri finally get married. They rent a Hotel near Detroit, in a beautiful and snowy place. Everyone’s here. The future husbands are idiots. Phichit is a best man. Christophe too. And somehow he’s even more dashing than usual. This is gonna be a merry mess. 


To Savior by Kaishiru

“Today is all about you,” Yuuri breathed, fingers fanning out over the obvious bulge in his lover’s trousers.

In which Yuuri makes Viktor’s birthday a day he will never forget.


Mille-Feuille by hanakoto

“You-you were talking dirty, weren’t you?”

“Wow, Yuuri! How can you tell? I could be talking about eating chicken soup and you wouldn’t even know.”

Yuuri discovers that Victor is fluent in French.


Better Romance by EttaMills

Yuuri was no playboy, but he did, to people’s shock, have romantic experience before Viktor. However, it was no love story and bad memories tend to reopen old wounds.


Luckily, Viktor is more than h
appy to not only patch up those wounds, but rub a little salt in the person that caused them. 


Clap Back by EttaMills

A few months after the embarrassing Instagram incident, Yuuri had foolishly thought there would be no consequences.


However, certain hockey players learn that you can’t go after Ice Skating’s number one katsudon without dealing with the squad.


a certain playboy by fan_nerd

@v-nikiforov - The handsome playboy has returned to town. Please pay special attention to my Free Skate tomorrow. ♥♥♥

There’s no way that Victor, Yuuri’s childhood idol, could be calling Yuuri a handsome playboy, just because they’d met eyes at two skating events. Besides, a total stranger had given Yuuri the tickets. It would be totally absurd.

Yuuri frowns, turning his head on the pillow. Wouldn’t it?


Later Date by triste

“Here’s the thing, see,” Victor breezes. “Yuuri mysteriously misplaced his suppressants, so now he’ll be going into heat. It’s a terrible shame, I know, but I could never leave him to deal with this on his own. I’m his alpha, remember? And his coach. And his fiancé.”

“It’s the middle of the season!” Yakov roars. “Vitya, you can’t just–”

“See you in five days!” Victor says brightly.

Then the line goes dead.

Yakov hurls his phone at the window in impotent rage, and it actually makes a bigger dent than Yurio’s did.

“I wish people would stop doing that,” Georgi sighs.


Break the Cycle by SigmundFreud

Yuuri’s neck was bright red, matching the colors of his cheeks. His eyes were half-lidded with pupils blown wide. He could try to avoid Victor all he wanted, but standing this close to the man made Yuuri lose all rational thought. Victor was like a drug, the strongest drug Yuuri knew, and he could never reject those lips.

College AU where Yuuri is a grad student addicted to fucking his ex, and Victor is secretly suffering from heartbreak.


Russian for Dummies by cutthroatpixie

“Are you a beginner?”

Viktor was not a beginner. Viktor was the TA supposedly in charge of this study session. Viktor spoke Russian. Viktor was Russian.

“Sure!”


Strange Bedfellows by ikemegane

When Yuri’s childhood crush showed up at his door, naked, full of impossible promises, the young skater didn’t even know what to think. When Yuri somehow ends up with said childhood crush in his bed, however, his body does the thinking for him.


santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight by frolickingangels

Yuuri has a sweet, little surprise for the birthday boy.


Consequences of Jetlag by paintstroke

The morning after Yuuri arrives in St. Petersburg he decides that this might be his one chance to wake Viktor up however he wants…

Shameless fluffy smut, PWP.

Japan is 6 hours ahead of St. Petersburg.


We’ll Remember These Nights by Cornflower

“You look just like the poster in my room,” Yuuri slurred, barely holding himself up in Viktor’s arms, “but you have more clothes on.” He giggled. The words hit Viktor hard, and he didn’t know how much more his weak gay heart could handle. He barely even noticed Yakov leaving the room with his head cradled in his hands.

Or in other words, what really went down at the banquet last year, and what that meant for them now.


So that’s it for now! I’ll update this from time to time but here are some of the fics I found  ╰(◡‿◡✿╰)

Remember to give kudos to the authors!

UPDATED!! (January 02, 2017)

((I know that I didn’t really add a lot but I promise I still have some that I’m going to post, I just feel really lazy atm (▰˘◡˘▰) haha whoops. I thought about making the updated fics into a separate post, sort of like a part two but eh, I decided no to. If there are some repeats from the earlier fics I rec’d let me know so that I can edit it out and also, if you want to submit a fic, please do!   ◕‿◕ ))

Fire and Ice // A Dylan O’Brien Smut

Prompt: He’s a die-hard Mets fan, but you just so happen to be dedicated to the Yankees + request

Warings: NSFW, Explicit Sexual Content, Smut, Fingering, Oral (both recieving), Different Kinks (masterbation kink also releasing on girl’s face), Basically the dirtiest and most descriptive smut I think I’ve ever written. 

Relationship: Dylan O’Brien x Reader

Word Count: 6,200 (Sorry not sorry, I got carried away with the details)

Song: Bad Things by Camila Cabello and Machine Gun Kelly

A/N: I literally grew up loving the Yankees (still do) and I honestly don’t know how I hadn’t thought of this before. Also, get ready guys ‘cuz some cool things will be happening the next few weeks and I really hope y’all like it. 

P.s. I was originally gonna post a gif, but then I saw these two pictures and fucking lost it.

Your name: submit What is this?

 

“Oh, for the love of God!” The young woman complained before taking a long gulp of her drink as she watched her team’s pitcher fail for the fourth time tonight. “Sal, I swear, I’m gonna kill him.”

“Well, at least you’re still in the lead.” The bartender chuckled, wiping down the countertop in between the two.

“Yeah, no thanks to Bryan Mitchell.” She sighed, shaking her head in disappointment.

It wasn’t exactly one of the biggest games of the season, but to her it just about was. The Mets had a surprising comeback in 2016 and the last thing her Yankees needed was to lose to that pathetic excuse of a baseball team. With her eyes glued on the television in this small but cozy downtown bar, (Y/N) placed her glass of whiskey back on her lips and let the hard liquid tear its way down her throat.

As soon as the batter of the opposing team failed to successfully hit the ball, (Y/N) let out a much needed breath of relief. Her attention was completely dedicated to the game playing on the tv screen. Well, that is, until she heard the sound of the front door opening. She didn’t quite know why, but (Y/N) felt inclined to look at whomever was arriving at this small bar she frequented so much. And, boy, was she glad she did.

Her breath hitched in her throat the second she caught sight of the incredibly handsome guy walking inside, a backwards cap settled on his dark brown hair that she felt the sudden desire to run her fingers through. The first thing she noticed was the sexy as hell scruffy, but surprisingly tame, beard on his jaw, her imagination immediately lighting on fire with dirty thoughts. His toned arms and veins straining against his muscles as he coincidentally sat on the stool beside her and lifted his arm to get a hold of the bartender was what caught her focus next. The employee instantly strode towards the beautiful stranger and asked what he wanted to drink. He politely made his order and (Y/N) couldn’t find it in herself to take her gaze off of his plump and inviting lips.

Embarrassment like never before washed over her now blushed cheeks when he, suddenly, turned to her with a confused expression and she realized she had been caught staring. She tried her best to dart away from his stare, but his eyes locked onto hers and eager chills ran down her spine when a small smirk made its way on his pink lips. She took the opportunity to really look at his eyes and they certainly didn’t fail to make her knees weak. They weren’t just a regular hazel color, they were warm with a liquid golden-brown that also had a spark of mischief in them she felt so inclined to get to know. It was strange how they both connected so easily just through looks even though neither one of them believed in love at first sight. The two did, however, believe in infatuation at first sight.

The smirk on his face didn’t leave even when she managed to break the stare the moment she heard the crowd cheering on the tv and she, immediately, turned to discover what just happened in the baseball game. Dylan certainly noticed that his Mets had just made a homerun, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of the girl in the stool next to him. She wore high-waisted jean shorts that definitely worked in favor of her, breath taking, legs and his mind already came up with different scenarios of them spread before him. Her shirt wasn’t revealing in any way, it was just a plain Star Wars tee, and yet he still felt attracted to it. Maybe it’s the fact that he already knew they had a common love for this geeky movie series without even needed to exchange in small talk. But, the way her natural hair perfectly fell on her shoulders made Dylan want to push it aside and nibble down on her inviting neck.

“Are you serious?!” The gorgeous girl shouted, angrily pointing towards the screen even though she knew the umpire couldn’t actually hear her. “That was clearly foul play!”

Her words sparked interest in him and, reluctantly doing so at first, Dylan eventually turned his head towards the sports game. A smile lit up on his face as he watched his team celebrate their newest point only to, suddenly, remember the girl he had his eye on was complaining about this very achievement.

“Foul play?” Dylan questioned and (Y/N) immediately turned around towards the source of the charming voice. “Wait, are you a Yankees’ fan?”

“A proud one to be exact.” She smiled happily and if it weren’t for his shock with this new discovery, he certainly would’ve swooned at how beautiful she was.

“Perfect.” He sighed, only now realizing the bartender had left his drink in front of him when he was too busy gawking at her just moments ago.

“What?” She asked, genuinely confused at his odd reaction and watched him take a sip from his bottle of beer. Then, the realization hit her like a truck and she shook her head with disappointment. “Oh, no. You’re a Mets fan, aren’t you?”

Dylan didn’t even say anything. He just put his bottle back down on the surface and reached behind his head to turn his baseball cap forwards. Immediately revealing The New York Mets logo stamped on the hat and (Y/N) held back her laughter at the unexpected situation they found themselves in.

“A proud one to be exact.” Dylan repeated her words and, this time, (Y/N) actually let a laugh fall from her lips. It was music to his ears and he desperately wanted to hear it again.

Their attention was back on the game when the sound of bickering and chaotic commotion came from the tv, both now focused on what was happening. Neither one of them knew why the two teams were now fighting, but their hearts lodged in their throats as they watched the players lunge at each other. It was hard to tell who exactly started the fight, but by the commentaries coming from the voice-overs it seemed to be the Yankees’ fault.

“Of course.” Dylan shook his head, taking another gulp of his beer. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

(Y/N) immediately turned to glare at him, rage and frustration rushing through her veins at the sound of disregard towards her favorite baseball team.

“Excuse me?” She hissed, completely offended at his remark.

“Oh, I’m sorry, does the 2000 World Series not ring any bells to you?” He retorted with a cocky smirk.

“You mean the year we completely destroyed your team’s ass?” She replied, a grin on her face as she proudly spoke. “Something we had already accomplished countless times and would continue doing ‘till, literally, this very day.”

“Roger Clemens and Mike Piazza.” Dylan simply stated, chosing to ignore her bragging and (Y/N)’s eyes widened at the familiar names.

“There’s no proof Clemens intentionally hit Piazza in the head with that fastball.” She defended and he let out a dark chuckle.

“Seriously? You’re really going to defend someone who gave a fellow baseball player a concussion just because he had terrible anger management?”

“Okay, you know what?” (Y/N) scoffed, rolling her eyes at him. “At least we have players that are actually good at pitching.”

That spiteful comment was enough to spark something in him other than desire for this girl and, needless to say, Dylan was outraged. No one can just mock his beloved Mets and think they can easily get away with it.

“Says the girl whose team lost to us, their biggest rivals, in a 15 to 6 defeat in 2008.” Dylan retaliated and didn’t expect the sudden chuckle (Y/N) let out.

“Sure, but what’s one losing game compared to the 27 different World Series said girl’s team has already won?” She shrugged and Dylan hated the fact that she was right. “Making her baseball team the one with the most wins ever.

“And sweetie,” (Y/N) continued, placing a hand on his thigh that sent lustful jolts throughout Dylan’s entire body. “You’re sad little team isn’t even close to being an actual rival of ours, not when you’ve only won a pathetic amount of 2 World Series. How about you try to insult me when you catch up with us big boys, huh?”

“Fuck, I don’t know what drives me crazier.” Dylan whimpered at her touch, his eyes boring into her dilated ones and there’s no doubt both of them clearly wanted to rip each other’s clothes off. “The fact that you keep dissing my Mets or the fact that you’re extremely sexy talking so passionately about baseball like that.”

With a sly smile on her face and confidence she didn’t actually know she had in her, the young woman extending her hand towards him.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N).” She greeted as he slipped his own hand into her grasp and shook them together. “Huge Yankees fan who apparently also happens to be very sexy.”

“Dylan O'Brien.” He smiled back at her, a small chuckle escaping his throat at her comment. “Long suffering Mets fan.”

“Nice to meet you, Dylan.” She laughed and he laughed along with her when her eyebrows, suddenly, furrowed. “Wait, why do I feel like I’ve heard that name somewhere before?”

“I, uh-” Dylan nervously scratched the back of his neck. “I’m an actor.”

“Hey, that’s right!” She exclaimed, now putting together the puzzled pieces in her mind. “You’re that kid from that werewolf show.”

“Yeah, Teen Wolf.” He corrected and she let out a long oh of realization as she remembered all the times she flickered through her channels and passed by this show without second glance.

“So, what brings a Hollywood star like you to this unknown bar?” (Y/N) asked, a playful smirk on her lips. “Shouldn’t you be out partying with models or other celebrities?”

“Nah, I hate that stuff.” He shook his head. “I really love my job but despise the attention.”

“I see.” She smiled, not expecting to meet such a humble famous person. Living in LA, you meet a few here and there and they’re usually always very egotistical. It’s quite refreshing to get to know someone that’s the complete opposite.

“But, what about you? What do you you do?” Dylan asked, taking another gulp of his beer.

“I’m the, um, GM of the Dodgers.” (Y/N) stated nervously and it took everything in him not to spit out his drink in utter shock. The woman giggled at his astonished gaze, his eyes practically bulging out of their sockets.

“Y-You’re the General Manager of the fucking Los Angeles Dodgers?!” Dylan exclaimed after he managed to successfully swallow his alcohol.

“Why so surprised?” She challenged and Dylan couldn’t stop staring at her in complete awe. “Is it because I’m a woman?”

“No!” Dylan frantically shook his head. “It’s because I was already so attracted to you and, now, fuck… I think you might just be the death of me.”

“Well, O'Brien.” She grinned and Dylan suddenly moaned when she unexpectedly gripped tightly onto his thigh. “I’m very attracted to you, too.”

“Hey, do you want to get out of here?” He asked, beyond ready to do so many sinful things to her that even the devil himself would be ashamed of.

“Ah, the game’s still on.” She shook her head as she pointed towards the television. “Can’t stop supporting my Yankees just for a hook up.”

“The fact that you work for one baseball team yet your favorite is a completely different one amazes me.” Dylan chuckled, his eyes lingering over her body before landing back on her own.

“What can I say?” (Y/N) shrugged, the actor internally moaning when she bit down on her bottom lip. “I like to keep people on the edge of their seats.”

“Well, you certainly have me on mine.”

The sexual tension between the two was so strong that even the bartender could feel it seething off of them and taking over the entire room. He, honestly, thinks he could cut it with a knife from how palpable it was. (Y/N) still hadn’t removed her grip on his thigh and Dylan silently prayed to any god out there that she wouldn’t, his body craving her touch so much it made him hazy.

“How about a little bet to make things interesting?” She proposed and Dylan’s eyes perked up with intrigue.

“Go on.” He gestured, leaning in closer to her.

“If, after the game, the Yankees have won, you have to tweet out that my team is better than yours.” She stated with a grin and Dylan immediately scoffed at her proposal. “However, if the Mets win, you can take me to your place and have your way with me.”

Dylan’s cock already felt hard just at the offer alone as he watched her take a sip of her whiskey with a naughty smirk. It took all of the self control he had in him not to moan out and crash his lips against her red ones from the beautiful lipstick she was wearing.

“Deal.” He nodded and they shook hands for the second time tonight.

The two eagerly watched the game, both way too excited with what would happen right after. (Y/N) knew that, even if she does win, she definitely won’t be spending the night at her own house. They would constantly and shamelessly glance at each other, neither one caring about embarrassment. The lust and desire was so strong at this point that every stare, glance or lick of the lips was more than welcome. Not only were their bodies attracted to one another, but so were their minds. The two had more in common than they imagined and they enjoyed every second of mindless chatter and laughter. Dylan loved it when she laughed carelessly at his stupid jokes and (Y/N) felt like she was on cloud nine everytime he listened to her speak with such intrigue.

“Seventh inning stretch.” (Y/N) sighed, taking a sip from her third drink of the night as she groaned at the score. “And it’s tie.”

“Want to make things even more interesting?” Dylan smirked, narrowing his eyes in mischief and (Y/N) swooned, still not used to this man’s beauty.

“Just how interesting are we talking here?” She grinned, putting down the glass of alcohol she had in her hand.

“Let’s raise the stakes of this bet.”

“I’m listening.”

“If the Yankees win not only will I tweet they’re better than the Mets, but I’ll also record a video singing the Yankees’ theme to go along with it.” Dylan quirked his eyebrows and (Y/N) carefully listened to every word that came out of his mouth. “However, if my team wins, you have to come back to my place tonight and go on a date with me.”

(Y/N) eyes widened at the request and she, suddenly, felt her heart beat a little faster. With a happy smile now spreading across her face, she took her glass back in her small hand.

“Alright, O'Brien.” She nodded, clinking her drink with his. The sound echoing in their little bubble as they stared each other down. “I’m down with that, but you better start warming up your voice because there’s no way the Mets are going to win.”

It was as if the words she said immediately cursed the entire game the moment they fell from her red lips. The Mets were unexpectedly scoring homerun after homerun and (Y/N) would cringe everytime they did. Dylan, on the other hand, had a permanent smirk on his face the whole game. He would watch in awe whenever (Y/N) would angrily scream at the television screen and he couldn’t wait till she screaming under him. It didn’t take long for the game to end and (Y/N) question her entire existence. It’s not that she didn’t want the things that came with Dylan winning, oh she definitely wanted them, it’s the fact that her incredibly skillful and talented Yankees lost to the fucking Mets.

“Well, well, well.” Dylan grinned, standing up from his stool as (Y/N) groaned at his taunting. “Looks like my sad little team caught up with the big boys.”

The beautiful woman glared at his mockery towards the exact words she used just a few hours ago. They were meant to work in her favor not Dylan’s. She stood up from her own stool and took a step towards him, their faces now inches from each other.

“It’s only the beginning of the season.” She defended and Dylan smiled at her proximity, the smell of alcohol on her breath making him drunk on her. “The Mets won’t survive the entire year and you fucking know it.”

“I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.” Dylan retorted and she couldn’t keep her stare away from his lips as he tugged the bottom one in between his teeth, (Y/N) instinctively doing the same. Dylan’s eyes looked down at hers and it was as if their little feud immediately disappeared and now all they could focus on was what was going to happen next.

“Okay, okay.” The bartender broke their stares, blushes painting both of their cheeks. “(Y/N) take your boy toy and get out of here already before you two start having sex on my countertop.”

“Sorry, Sal.” She cleared her throat and Dylan nervously scratched the back of his neck. “We were just leaving.”

The two shared smirks, lust taking over both of their pupils before they ran out of the door. Sal laughing at them as he closed his bar down.

“Kids.” He shook his head with a smile plastered on his face.



The ride to Dylan’s house was surprisingly pleasant. They found more things they shared in common like their love for goofy comedies and their incredibly similar taste in music. Dylan put his phone in the radio of his car and they spent the rest of the ride singing loudly to the songs they both knew by heart. Laughter was the second main theme of the night, right after desire.

“Do you want something to drink?” Dylan asked the second he unlocked the door to his one bedroom apartment and they both walked inside.

“No,” (Y/N) chuckled as she watched him throw his house keys on a small table and turn around to face her. “I’m pretty sure I had enough at the bar.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” He laughed, nodding. “What about something to eat?”

“Not hungry.” She shrugged. “But you can eat if you’re hungry.”

“Oh, I’m hungry.” Dylan licked his lips, walking towards her in a predatory fashion and (Y/N)’s swallowed nervously at how sexy he looked. “Just not for food.”

Her breath hitched in her throat at his comment, jolts of lust rushing through her body and landing in her core. Dylan didn’t even wait for a possible response before crashing his mouth on hers and kissing her with such force he had to hold her lower back tightly so she wouldn’t fall. Both of them have been anticipating that moment the entire night and it was so much better than either could’ve expected. Their lips meshed together in sync with the perfect combination of hard and passionate. (Y/N) wrapped her arms around his neck to drop his baseball cap off his head and finally be able to run her fingers through his dark hair. The second Dylan bit down on her bottom lip, she tugged at the roots provoking a moan to escape from his mouth. The sound sent shivers down her spine and she knew that she desperately wanted to do more than just kiss.

(Y/N) broke the kiss to take a breath, but Dylan didn’t dare stop. He pushed her waist closer into him and she moaned when she felt his growing bulge against her body. Dylan left lingering kisses on her neck which spread goosebumps all over her skin. (Y/N) tried to reach down his back and pull the blue t-shirt off of him but Dylan just grinned against her neck.

“I’m in charge here, remember?” Dylan stated, his hot breath fanning across causing (Y/N) to shiver in response. “And I want to take things slow.”

“Fuck.” She whimpered when he nibbled on her pulse point and began sucking, clearly wanting to leave a hickey there.

Dylan took his time leaving kisses and hickeys wherever he damn pleased and it drove (Y/N) crazy. His provocative touches and the way his lips moved against her skin made her knees weak, wetness already pooling in her panties just from the teasing alone.

“Do something.” She moaned.

“Are you gonna beg for it?” He snickered and (Y/N) moaned again just at his dirty talk.

But, (Y/N) does not beg. She never had to beg to a man before and she won’t start now. Then again, she’s never met anyone like Dylan before. He had her wrapped around his finger just from one night alone.

“I don’t beg.” She shook her head and Dylan slipped his hands down to her ass, squeezing roughly.

“You might as well start learning how to.” Dylan’s face returned to hers, their lips slightly touching. “Because I love it when a woman begs.”

“And I love it when a guy actually fucking touches me.” She retorted and the smile on Dylan’s face didn’t go unnoticed.

He let go of her completely and she whimpered at the loss of contact, wanting desperately to feel his body back on hers. They took this moment to stare at each other and both loved the sight. The two had swollen lips from kissing so hard and smudged red lipstick all over their lips, chins and cheeks. Dylan placed his hand on the hem of her Star Wars shirt and pulled it off her, (Y/N) slightly shivering at the new lack of warmth. He kissed her gently, mostly to tease, as he unbottoned her high-waisted shorts and let them fall on the floor. As she stepped out of the jeans, Dylan licked his plump lips in appreciation at her gorgeous body. She was wearing a matching pair of simple a bra and panties, but the black heels she had on made her look beyond sexy to him. Dylan’s cock twitched against his jeans, desperately wanting to be inside of this breath-taking woman in front of him.

“Take off your bra.” He commanded and usually (Y/N) wouldn’t like being the submissive one during sex but this dominant side of him was turning her on more than she expected.

Slowly reaching behind her back, she unclasped the bra and brought the straps down until she was finally bare. Dylan’s eyes immediately stared at her breasts, the rosy pink nipples perked and ready to be played with. Which was exactly what he decided to. He took two quick steps towards her before returning his hands on her waist, (Y/N)’s back arching the second Dylan’s lips attached to one of her nipples. His hand carefully massaging the other breast he currently wasn’t working his tongue against. She couldn’t contain her moans at finally being able to feel something, but her core still ached in anticipation. When Dylan bit down on her nipple and pulled at it with his teeth, (Y/N) had to press her thighs together to be able to relieve some of the pressure.

“Ah, ah, ah.” Dylan tsked, shaking his head before removing his mouth. He pressed the hand that was on her breast on her thigh and pushed her legs apart. “I call all of the shots.”

“Ple-” She was just about to beg but realized what she was going to do and stopped herself immediately.

“What was that?” He smirked, gripping onto her skin and (Y/N) whimpered at the pressure that was in one place but should’ve been in another. “Were you about to beg?”

“Never.” She panted, his lips back on her nipple.

“Oh, come on Yankees Princess.” He snickered and she not only moaned at the new pet name but the feeling of him sliding his fingers closer to the place she needed him most. “All you have to do is ask.”

She chose to remain silent, not at all trusting her own voice and mind. (Y/N) was already putty in his hands and she didn’t want to give him anymore satisfaction. That is, until he completely broke away from her and took a step back. She stared at him with wide eyes and Dylan grinned sexily before removing his t-shirt. She felt cold and odd without his touch as he unbuckled his belt, pulling it out of his pants. Their eyes full of lust and desire never left each other even when he unbottoned his khakis and brought them down to the floor. Dylan kicked them away, but didn’t approach her again like (Y/N) expected. Instead, he folded his arms across his toned chest and cocked an eyebrow.

“I’m not touching you until you beg for it.” He challenged and her jaw dropped in awe.

Her eyes broke their gaze to look over his body and she swallowed nervously as she took the sight in, frustrated with herself because she now felt inclined to actually beg. Thanks to his crossed arms, Dylan’s muscles were pressing against his skin and it made her head spin. (Y/N) bit down on her lip when she looked at the trail of dark and scruffy hair above his boxers which held the massive erection bulging against the fabric, precum seeping through the cotton. Her core throbbed like never before thanks to the handsome man in front of her.

“Fine, fuck it.” She groaned and Dylan’s ears perked at her words. “Dylan, please touch me. I need you.”

It wasn’t exactly as desperate​ as he initially wanted, but it was enough for the desire pulsing in his own veins. He, too, wanted to touch her just as much as she did. And in a matter of seconds, Dylan rushed to her and instantly ripped apart her panties. Before she could even complain, his hands moved down to her ass and lifted her up. He kissed her passionately, tongue and all, as he brought her to his bedroom. Placing her down on his empty desk, Dylan spread her legs and fit himself in between them.

He trailed wet kisses down her body and (Y/N) buzzed with excitement. Once he reached her stomach, Dylan kneeled down in front of her and gripped his fingers against her heated thighs. He licked his way towards he left thigh and trailed his tongue close to her core. Just as he was about to touch her there, Dylan immediately switched course and began licking her right thigh.

“I’m gonna kill you.” She hissed through her clenched teeth and Dylan chuckled against her skin.

“Patience, Yankees Princess.” He teased as he nibbled. “Good things come to those who wait.”

She grunted, but accepted none-the-less. Although it’s not like she actually had a choice, the Mets did win after all. (Y/N) ran her fingers through his hair, slightly pulling the strands and Dylan would hum in appreciation. The vibrations shooting through her body and increasing the pain in her core.

When Dylan felt like she’d been teased enough, he let his tongue trace against the place they both desired the most. (Y/N) immediately moaned, not at all caring how loud she was being. His tongue spread apart her soaking wet folds and the young woman’s hips bucked when he momentarily trailed against her swollen clitoris. Dylan’s hand grasped tighter onto her legs as he gently slid his tongue into her, the ache in (Y/N)’s core now being replaced with pleasure and satisfaction.

She whimpered when he pulled his tongue away after working inside of her a few minutes but almost screamed out the second his lips attached to her clit and sucked furiously. One of his hands came into contact and slowly slipped a finger inside of her, her hips bucking instantly at the delicious pumping.

“Fuck.” She moaned and Dylan’s hard cock felt uncomfortable in his boxers as he watched her become a panting mess.

The feeling of his finger inside of her heat and pressing against her soft walls made his head spin, his dick begging to replace his hand’s place. But, Dylan was determined to make her cum with just his hands and mouth first. When he felt she was ready for a second one, he put another finger in and pumped at a faster pace. One of (Y/N)’s hands was buried in his hair and the other gripped tightly on the edge of his desk, her knuckles going white at the pressure.

With the mixture of his fingers curling against her walls and his tongue drawing figure eights on her clitoris as his lips sucked, it was more than enough to quickly build up an orgasm inside of the woman moaning uncontrollably. It didn’t take long to build and, the second Dylan unexpectedly bit down on her clit, her orgasm spilled over her entire body. Dylan didn’t dare stop what he was doing when her legs shook intensely along with her back arching up against the wall. He didn’t even stop when they did. The sounds that fell from her swollen lips and the way she looked as she came made Dylan greedy and he desperately wanted it to happen again. (Y/N) was still sensitive from her first orgasm and in a matter of minutes, she was cumming for the second time tonight. The sensitivity of her core making it easy to reach the edge of her pleasure again.

Even though Dylan removed his head from her inner thighs and attached his lips back onto hers in a forceful kiss, (Y/N) could still feel the burning of his scruff scratching against her tingling skin and she truly hopes the sensation never goes away.

There was more precum spread across his boxers that earlier and Dylan was beyond ready to get rid of the excruciating pain his cock felt from the lack of attention. He made his way back in between her legs after pulling his underwear off and kicking them somewhere far from his body. Dylan brought his hand to his member and pumped a few times in preparation. (Y/N) immediately moaned at the sight of him touching himself and Dylan certainly didn’t expect it.

“What-” He smirked, biting down on his lip at the feeling of his own thumb spreading around the precum on his tip. “Do you have a masterbation kink?”

“Maybe.” She confessed, a bright blush painting her cheeks as her pupils dilated when he increased his pace.

“Damn.” Dylan groaned, throwing his head back with shut eyes. “As much as I love this new discovery, I really want to fuck you right now.”

“Oh, please do.” She grinned, spreading her legs apart even further.

Dylan didn’t even need to think twice before placing both of his hands back on her thighs and lining himself at her entrance. His cock throbbed as he coated his tip in her slick wetness, lubricating himself. The two loudly moaned the moment he easily slid into her, the feeling of them becoming one making their bodies throb with excitement. Dylan let his forehead fall on her shoulder as he waited for to adjust to his size.

“Go ahead.” She stated when she was ready and Dylan immediately pulled back before pushing in again. He started thrusting into her slowly, moaning shamelessly at the feeling of her soft and wet walls tightly around him and (Y/N) loved the delicious feeling of Dylan stretching her as he pumped their bodies together.

(Y/N) wrapped her legs around his waist, giving him a new and deeper angle which he gladly accepted. His hands now moving their positions to thrust harder into her, his left palm flat out on the wall behind her and his right gripping harshly on the edge of his desk. She, however, decided to keep her hands on the arching muscles of his bare back. Considering how turned on they already were, it didn’t take much for the familiar knot to grow inside of the two. Dylan had to use every ounce of self control in him not to cum the second she unintentionally clenched around his shaft and, instead, he sunk his teeth into her shoulder.

Dylan pounded deeper into her, now continuously hitting her g-spot no one had ever found until this very moment, and his dream of hearing the beautiful Yankees’ fan from the bar screaming under him finally came true. Her voice echoed in the room along with the sounds of his desk mercilessly banging against the wall and wet skin slapping against wet skin.

“Fuck, I’m almost there.” Dylan panted, loving the feeling of her breasts bouncing against his bare and sweaty chest.

“Me, too.” She shouted, bringing her own hand down to her clit since Dylan was using his for stability.

It took her about 15 seconds of furiously rubbing her already overly sensitive nub before she felt the tight knot inside of her explode and spread mind blowing pleasure throughout her entire body. Dylan tried to hold his orgasm in him the best he could since he didn’t exactly want to cum inside of her without a condom. It was extremely difficult to contain himself, especially when she clenched around him again and dug her nails into his back, but Dylan somehow managed to contain himself as he shouted in frustration. Once he noticed she was back down from her high, he immediately pulled himself out of her and took a step back.

“On your knees.” He panted, his voice weak as he pointed to the ground in front of him.

Even though she was completely hazy from the ground breaking orgasm she just had, (Y/N) slowly slid off the desk and instantly fell to her knees. Dylan didn’t know wether or not she fell due to how weak her legs were or if it was actually intensional​ but the second she gripped his member and licked his tip, the thoughts immediately flew out of his head. Dylan’s mind now focused on her taking him into her warm mouth. His hands instinctively dug into her hair as she slowly bobbed his cock. In a matter of seconds, (Y/N) hollowed out her cheeks to make an even tighter environment for him and Dylan moaned shamelessly at the feeling.

(Y/N) absolutely loved that when her tongue grazed his wet member she could taste her juices on him and she decided to deepthroat him in appreciation. She took him in as far as she could, her nose buried in the patch of his dark hair and her throat gagging at the fullness. But, Dylan definitely loved it because his dick instantly twitched in response and he quickly pulled himself out of her mouth. His hot cum squirted out of his tip and he watched with hooded eyes as it painted her blushed cheeks. Normally, (Y/N) would never allow any man do such a thing to her but the way Dylan was looking at her with pure pleasure and enjoyment swimming in his dark pupils was enough to make her want it to happen again. His liquid dripped from her face and made its way down her breasts, Dylan unable to contain his groans at the sight.

“So, I’m guessing this is your kink.” She chuckled, coating one of her fingers with his release and putting it into her mouth.

“One of many.” Dylan smirked, extending his hand for her to grab with her free one.

They stared at each other with satisfaction in their eyes as he helped her stand, both of them simply knowing without the need to actually say that that was the best sex the two ever had.

“I’ll be right back.” Dylan stated, placing a lingering kiss on her lips before walking away and disappearing into his bathroom.

One of (Y/N)’s eyebrows quirked at the sudden sound of water from a sink running momentarily but, when he returned to her with a small and damp towel in his hands, everything made sense. He kindly wiped away the now sticky cum on her skin and she smiled up at him.

“Now about that date.” Dylan grinned, throwing the towel on the desk when he was done cleaning her body. “How does the premiere to my new movie with a romantic dinner afterwards sound?”

“A first date in the eyes of the public?” She questioned, challenging him. “Borderline crazy.”

“So, is that a yes?” He smirked and (Y/N) instantly laughed.

“Definitely yes.”

Greedy ( Jeff Atkins x Reader)

Request : Hiiii can you make a Jeff Adkins smut where he gets jealous because your talking to Zach? Idk lol if you want to😊

A/n: Hey yo was goodie  guys is your girl back with another smut this request was lowkey fun to write idk why but anyways thank you so much for over 500 reads on need a hand and 330+ followers I honestly feel like this was a shitty imagine because it was rushed because i have finals so I’m sorry if you don’t like it I promise not to suck so bad for the next one. Anyways if you’re waiting on the Jason imagine or the rest I’ll try to get them all in before next weekend key word try because finals have me pulling my hair out.

Warnings:Smut sin sin sin more sin just you know sin eating out , slight dominance coming from Jeff? jealousy you know the usual. Also they are juniors in this imagine so 

You and Jeff had never been the fighting type if you guys had a problem you would talk it out in a mature non-violent way. Lately things have changed Jeff wanted to argue with you about the littlest things. When you took to long to answer his messages because you were taking a shower or too busy doing homework. When you didn’t spend enough time with him. When you didn’t show up to his baseball practices. Little things that never bothered Jeff before now let’s not get it twisted you loved spending time with Jeff after all he is your boyfriend for a reason but lately you both have been so stressed and busy looking at colleges and preparing for the SATs that you guys had no time for each other. 

Junior year is a stressful year you both knew and understood each other or at least you thought you did out of nowhere Jeff started acting really possessive and weird towards you. You tried talking to him but he wouldn’t budge to tell you what’s been on his mind. You decided to go to his baseball practice since he was complaining the whole week that you hadn’t gone. It was Friday and honestly all you wanted to do was go home and sleep but you decided to come support your boyfriend. You were making your way towards the field when you spotted your friend Zach .

“Hey y/n” he said as he spotted you

“ oh hey Zach ” you said hugging him

 Change POV 

“Where are you going ?” He asked

“ I’m gonna go watch Jeff practice you know I have to support the boyfriend ” I say giggling

“ ah I’m heading there too I’m waiting for Bryce you want me to walk you ? ” he asks 

“ yea sure why not ” I say smiling

We walk together into the bleachers laughing at dumb jokes zach is making. When we reach the bleachers I look to the field and spot Jeff looking at me I smiled and wave but he just ignored me or maybe he didn’t see me. I shrug it off and take a seat in the bleachers watching the practice until is over. When the coach blows the whistle I run up to the field and hug Jeff he doesn’t return the hug instead he mutters and awkward hi. I give him a concerned look but he just shoves past me going to the locker rooms to change. I decided this needed to stop and I should talk to him. I start walking to the car deciding to wait for him there. A couple of minutes later Jeff comes in the car throwing his duffel bag on the back seat and putting the key in the ignition.

“ Are you coming over today? ” he asks not even looking at me

“ As a matter of facts yes I am there’s obviously something we need to talk about ” Waving my hands In front of me to emphasize my point.

“ I don’t know what you mean there’s nothing to talk about ” he says as he starts to drive to his house. I stay quiet for the rest of the ride.

When we arrived at his house he opened the door letting me in first Jeff might be mad at me and act like a dick sometime but he never looses his manners. I rush upstairs to his room throwing myself on his bed and letting out a frustrated groan. I feel the bed tip and he lays besides me. He grips my waist but I pull away from his hold.

“ what’s wrong babe ?” He says coming closer.

“ I should ask you the same thing since you decided to be a dick one second and then a sweetheart the next” I say standing up and going over to sit in his computer chair.

He start walking towards me he grabs a hold of my wrist and pulls me up pushing our bodies together. I try to get out his grip but it’s not very useful since he’s stronger than me. He pulls me towards the bed and throws me on it.

Pinning me down he starts kissing my collar bone and he whispers “ Do you want to know why I’ve been so moody lately ” he nibbles on my neck

“ Well I mean it’s not like I’ve been asking for the past 2 weeks now ” sarcasm dripping from my voice he might have me pinned down and it’s slowly turning me on but there’s always room for sarcasm.

He cups my face kissing me roughly “ you’ve been spending so much time with Zach the little giggles here and there , laughing at his jokes , hugging him ” he says with a husky tone. “ do you think I don’t notice oh sweetheart , baby girl you have a lot coming if you think you can play with me like that ” he says attacking my collar bone again.

Originally posted by kissing-pleasure

He sucks on my neck harshly marking me moan. He makes his way down my body slowly teasing me.  He suddenly rips my shirt and I gasp.

“OMG ARE YOU SERIOUS THAT SHIRT WAS TWELVE DOLLARS” I say looking at my now ripped shirt.Jeff only smirks and continues kissing down my body.He reaches the hem of my skirt and pulls it off in one swift movement.My heart beats faster as the heat between  my legs starts increasing.

He moves his hands trailing them up and down my bare legs admiring them.I had to admit that would be kind of cute if i wasn’t so eagered for his touch.

He comes back up kissing me passionately and pulls me up to unclasp my bra, He slides it down my hands and throws it across the room.He kisses down my bare stomach reaching the hem of my panties grabbing the elastic and letting it go so it emits a sound.

Originally posted by kissing-pleasure

He pulls my panties down slowly tormenting me and throws them across the room joining my bra.He starts kissing on my thighs and  I close my legs rubbing them together to create some friction Jeff smirks and pulls them apart coming closer to my core but not yet touching it.  I feel his breathing hit my spot and I shiver from anticipation.He suddenly licks a stripe parting my lips apart and a loud moan fall from my  mouth.

“Jeff stop teasing babe” I said whining

“Tell me what you want then” he says rising and eyebrow 

“ I want you to do something” I said whining again

“ and that something is “ he says moving his hand over my thighs 

“ I want you to fuck me with your mouth” I say frustrated “Is that what you wan- OH MY GOD” I couldn’t even finish my sentence he plunged his tongue into me cravingly exploring my insides like his life depended on it.


My hips bucked upward from the pleasure as moans escaped my mouth here and there.I grabbed onto his hair pulling it slightly and he moaned into my core making a waveof pleasure  run through my body, I felt on cloud nine with his mouth working wonder as he gripped my thighs forcefully trying to keep me steady.My eyes rolled back from the pleasure, I could hear myself gasping slowly every time he moved his tongue. He was writing words or maybe the alphabet at this point I couldn’t tell. His appetite didn’t seem to be satisfied every taste he had made him want more.


His greed, urgency and desire all came  together to form a combination I couldn’t explain.I felt myself coming closer as pure bliss kicked in a harmony of melodies falling from my mouth along with some curse words. Jeff plunging his tongue into me ,drawing patterns and pulling me closer all of that combined  pushed me to the edge and I felt a wave of rhapsody run through me I slowly rode out my high thrusting my hips upward as Jeff wiped me clean.

He stood up with a satisfied smirk wiping the corners of his mouth coming closer to my face .He kissed my forehead “ you “ he kissed my left cheek “ know” he kissed my right cheek “ I’m”  he kissed my chin “ greedy “ he kissed my lips passionately “ and that I hate sharing baby so why do you push me “ he says smirking. 

“ I don’t Mr.Atkins” I say in between pants 

He pulls me up by me hair and whispers “ you know you’re mine “

“ I’m all yours my greedy man” I say pulling him in for a kiss.