hard to get a shot of his face sorry :

anonymous asked:

Harry thought Y/N was his friend so he slapped her ass in greeting 😂

“I’m not lying, Beth!” You were barely able to speak, the laughter in your body erupting out in embarrassingly loud fits. “He really did!”

Beth was leaning over the bar, her body shaking with giggles. “I can’t believe you made a guy cum just by kissing him.”

“Well, I guess I’m either a really good kisser, or he just-“

Your words were interrupted by a stinging pain on your ass. Your eyes shot open, along with Beth’s. She glared down at the hand that had slapped you so hard, shock and slight amusement visible on her face. You felt a pair of lips behind your ear, the slightest whisper hitting your neck.

“Lookin’ good tonight, love. See yeh like to tease.”

Your body quickly turned around, the unfamiliar voice sending a slight chill up your spine. The man, who was previously smirking, now looked like a ghost. His mouth hung open, eyes wider than any you’d ever seen, unable to get out the right words.

“Oh, God, I’m so sorry- thought yeh were- fuck, I can’t believe I just- wow, I’m so bloody stupid-“

“Got it, thought I was your girlfriend. Have a good night.” Before you could turn back towards Beth, he continued to speak.

“No, thought you were my friend Amy. Don’t have a girlfriend.” His eyes quickly glanced up and down your body, making you tense slightly.

“So do you slap all your friends on the ass?” You tried your best to sound vicious, but you failed. You sounded innocent, and God forbid- turned on.

“Jus’ a joke between us. I’m Harry.”

“Y/N”

He extended his hand out, waiting for you to grasp it in a firm handshake. You pushed it down, watching it fall at his side. He looked at you with a puzzled expression, his eyebrows furrowed and his shoulders slightly shrugged. You smirked at him, head slightly shaking.

“Don’t think we need to shake hands. You already slapped my ass.”

Daddy Issues (One-Shot Request)

Requested by anon: one where Bucky & the reader are arguing and he raises his hand to fix his hair or something and the reader flinches.

Warnings: angst, kissing (?), swearing, A CLIFFHANGER I’M SORRY I’LL DO A PART 2 I’M WORKING THROUGH SECOND PARTS OF ALL MY OTHER STORIES

Word count: 2059

Other one-shots here.

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The Mistake (Bonus #6) - Stiles Stilinski

Author: @were-cheetah-stiles

Title: “The One Where Stiles Uses Some Spanish He Learned From Derek”

Author’s Note: Just more sex. I am, ahem, a bad person? They left Vegas after this Bonus Part. This was the end of Part 6.5. This idea really cracked me up though. Also, I had to protect Parrish. #ParrishDeservesTheBest

#1 - #2 - #3 - #4 - #5 - #6 - #7 - #8 - The Mistake Masterlist

Originally posted by tess453

Y/n gripped onto the side of the bed, pulling more of the blankets off and letting them fall onto Stiles’ legs. She threw her head back and moaned as she felt his hands move up her torso to grab at her breasts. “Oh my god.” She groaned as he pinched at her nipples with force. 

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SF!Paps x Reader Fluff

Raffle Winner One-shot
For @artsietango
SFW SF!Paps x Reader smooch/ confession


Papyrus came in every day, like clockwork, and ordered a shot of whiskey and a bottle of barbecue sauce.  

You’d been working at Muffet’s for several months now, and despite the fact that it was monster-run (and that the job had taken you a considerable amount of courage to accept with your arachnophobia), your presence as a human had helped draw a more diverse crowd.  Muffet mixed the drinks with a deft, practiced speed that only someone with three sets of arms could possess, while you carried a platter of drinks from table to table, and numerous little spiders took pastries and burgers to customers from a network of webs in the top of the tavern.  

And every day since you started, Papyrus would walk in and sit at the same seat in the same booth and order the same thing.  

You slide the barbecue sauce to him as you pass his table and wink.  Papyrus usually chuckles and calls you saucy, but this time, he doesn’t even acknowledge you.  He’s got his hood pulled up, and he’s looking down at the table, his usual laid-back grin pulled into a grim line.  The expression startles you enough that you falter in your steps and cause the tray to unbalance, a few drinks sliding along the edge of your platter.  Hurriedly, you correct yourself before they spill and keep going, but you’re distracted as you distribute your orders.

What was wrong with him?

By the time you make it back around to his table, he’s already got two empty shot glasses in front of him, and three spiders are bringing a third glass down the web.  "Hey, Rus.  You didn’t even say hi to me,“ you state lightly, trying to rib him into a response.

His phalanges close around the shot glass, and he shrugs lightly.  His posture’s slouched, with his elbows on the table.  "hey.  sorry,” he mutters, holding up the whiskey to stare unseeingly at it.  

“You’re really pounding them back,” you observe, trying to tread lightly.  Usually, your friend is full of jokes and flirtatious remarks.  You’ve never seen him in a mood this sullen.

He hums, though the sound is nearly lost in the music playing from the jukebox.  "jus’ needed somethin’ to whiskey me away for a bit,“ he murmurs, before taking the shot.  He chases it with a swig of barbecue sauce, straight from the bottle.  You’ve never understood the appeal, and it doesn’t seem to be a monster thing.  But it’s definitely a Rus thing.

“Wanna talk about it?”

He finally turns his head to look at you, his orange eyelights shifting along your body, up to your face.  When his gaze locks with yours, you see resignation flash through his expression, before it hardens.  "actually, yeah, i–“

"Hey!  You!  Can I get my drinks here or what?”

You turn to face a group of humans sitting at the booth across from Papyrus’s.  They look like a rowdy crew to you, but you know you have to keep your smile on your face when you address them if you want to keep them placated.  "I’ll be with you in just a moment,“ you insist in your Professional Voice, which only makes another one of the men sigh.

"We’ve been waiting forever, but those creepy spiders aren’t coming!”

Ugh.  You turn toward Papyrus, but he’s already shaking his head and taking another gulp of his barbecue sauce.  "work’s callin’ you,“ he states the obvious.

He’s right.  If it wasn’t a Friday night, you’d have a better chance of being able to sit and talk to him.  "I’ll be right back,” you promise with a sigh, before turning and going to collect the human group’s order from the bar.  

When you reach the humans, you place your platter on the edge of their table to balance it.  "Okay, so who ordered what?“

One of the men grins.  "Why don'tcha guess?”

You really don’t have time for this.  "I really don’t know.  Did you have the bourbon and coke?“

The group laughs; apparently, you got it wrong.  

One of the man’s buddies leans in.  "What kind of drink do you like, babe?”  His eyes flick up and down your body.  "Sex on the beach?“

Ugh.  Keep your smile on your face; you’re representing the entire establishment when you serve someone.  Muffet taught you that–and if the customers decided to leave, your pay would end up docked.  The spider monster happened to be fiercely competitive, likely because of the bakery that had opened up across the street.  Apparently, Muffet and Grillby had some sort of bad history Underground. 

You laugh without any feeling behind it and shake your head.  "So you must be the one that ordered the Screwdriver,” you state tightly, moving the drink in front of him.  The others laugh, and you take a moment to cut your gaze toward Papyrus’s booth.  He’s staring at you directly, another empty shot glass in front of him, his expression blank and unreadable.  It’s difficult to even see his eyelights within his sockets at this point.  

This is taking too long.

“And you must have the Magic Night,” you guess randomly, sliding one of the cocktails with magic liquor in front of another human.  It crackles and fizzles, swirling with purples and reds.  

“So what’re you doing after work?  I can show you a real magic night,” the human states with a smirk and a brow wag, while his buddies laugh and shout exaggerated ’Oooohhh!’s

Your smile tightens.  "I doubt that,“ you shoot back before you can stop yourself, which wipes the smirk right off his face and causes the others to shove him with more exaggerated shouts.  They’re obviously already drunk.  

"Ouch.  Well, I could at least buy you one,” the man offers, holding up his magic cocktail for emphasis.  

“I’m sorry, but I–”  you glance back toward Papyrus… only to spot him walking out of the bar.  Your heart sinks, and you start unloading the rest of the drinks randomly onto the table.  "I have to go.“

You rush toward the front doors, calling out to the bouncer (a hamster monster in a leather, studded jacket), "I’m taking my break!”

You burst through the doors and spot Papyrus leaning against the building, a lit dog treat between his teeth.  Purple smoke curls around his face, and your steps begin to slow as you approach.  "Rus, I thought you wanted to talk.“  Your voice is slightly shaky.

"ya seemed busy tonight,” he replies with a shrug, holding the dog treat between his index and middle phalanges.  “’sides, it’s nothin’ really.”

Your chest clenches; you hate seeing him like this, so unlike the grinning pun-master you’ve come to befriend… and have a huge crush on.  Tentatively, you reach out and place your hand on his arm, gripping the thick fabric of his jacket.  His eyelights shift down to your fingers, staring at them, and you begin to feel self-conscious.  Usually, he’s all about physical contact and casual touches.  

“It doesn’t look like nothing to me, Rus.”

He flicks ashes on the sidewalk.  Standing outside, this close, you could smell just how heavily the alcohol is clinging to him.  It’s obvious now that he had been drinking before he even came to Muffet’s.  “jus’ somethin’ m’lord said to me today that’s been on my mind.”

You relax slightly.  You’re getting somewhere now.  “What did Sans say?”

Papyrus shrugs the opposite shoulder.  “it’s busy in there.  you should be gettin’ back.”

“No,” you blurt, hard enough that his gaze immediately flies to your face.  You know that your expression has hardened, your grip on his jacket tightening with your resolve.  “They can wait.  I don’t care.”

There’s an instant where his gaze searches yours for something, but you’re not sure what he’s hoping to find.  Then, he rather abruptly snags your waist with his arm and twists around the corner of the building, reversing your positions so that your back’s against the brick and he’s got one arm above your head, supporting his weight as he looms over you.  The alley is dark enough that you can see his orange eyelights clearly glowing in their dark sockets, and you can smell a mixture of alcohol and smoky barbecue permeating from his breath.  

Instantly, your breath catches in your throat.  His arm is still around your waist, trapped between your back and the wall, and now both of your hands are fisted in the front of his jacket.  

“but you care about me?”  

The query catches you by surprise enough that you forgot the last sentence that you had said, instead wondering if he’d somehow picked up on your crush.  Your face flushes hot, but you hold his gaze, taking in the sight of his sardonic smirk.  It wasn’t his usual flirtatious one–no, this one looked off, almost cruel.  Was he mocking your feelings?

Or mocking the possibility?

“Of course I do, Rus,” you evenly reply, lifting your chin ever-so-slightly.  A challenge.  “If something’s bothering you, then it’s bothering me, too.”

That seems to catch him off-guard; the smirk fades around the edges, the sides of his teeth twitching.  “heh, you sure ya wanna know?”

“Papyrus.”  Your hand moves up to cup his cheekbone as you say his full name, and his eyelights seem to glow even brighter.  His face tilts into your palm.  “Just talk to me.  Please.”

“ok.”  He sucks in a breath.  His fingers have wiggled beneath the hem of your shirt to trace idle patterns across your skin.  It’s not the first time he’s done this during your flirtatious moments, but it feels so much more intimate in this moment.  “humans and monsters really don’t mix in the long run, ya’know?”  You blink, sucking in a breath to refute him, but Papyrus shakes your hand off his cheek and continues.  “’specially skeleton monsters.  we’re a buncha bones, like a zombie or some kinda halloween decoration.  so why would a human want to be with a spooky skeleton when they could have their pick of any normal human out there?”  He shrugs, his fingers pressing into your skin, feeling the spinous processes of your spine.  “it jus’ sucks.”

His gaze focuses on yours, and he leans in closer, his face only a few inches from yours.  

“‘specially since there’s a human i’m really attached to.  i could probably get ‘em to jump my bones if i tried hard enough, sure, but… they’re not that kinda person.  they deserve better than that.”

His smirk has completely faded, and you feel your heart bottom-out into your stomach.  You’re looking at him with wide eyes, slowly processing the implications.  Your hand’s even still hovering near his face.  He starts to shake his head slightly and pull back, but you grip onto the front of his jacket again and stop him from moving away.  

“Wait.”

He freezes, his hand at your back stilling.  You’ve never been the one to make the first move, but dammit, you can’t let this opportunity go to waste.  You tug sharply on the front of his jacket and lean away from the wall at the same time, pressing your lips to his teeth.  He’s completely caught off-guard and stumbles back a step (okay, maybe you put a little too much momentum into the kiss when you pushed away from the wall–whoops), but his arm immediately tightens around your waist, pulling you close against his chest.  You try to put all of your reassurances, all of your feelings for him, into that kiss.  

And then you pull away, your face burning and your lips numb from the tingle of his teeth.  He smirks suddenly, and it’s finally a smirk you recognize on his features–teasing and confident.  “hey, ya’know what they say ‘bout assumin’, dont’cha?”

Oh shit.

Your heart drops.  You begin to backpedal.  “Shit, shit, sorry, I–”

Papyrus starts to chuckle, backing you against the wall again.  His forehead touches yours.  “darlin’, you’re adorable when you’re flustered, ya know that?  ‘course i was talkin’ about you.”

You groan.  Your heart’s hammering in your chest.  “Ha, ha.  Why don’t you stop talking and put your money where your mouth is.”

“ah, so you’re jus’ tryin’ to get tips from your best customer.  i see what that kiss was about now.”

Your arm winds around his neck, and you kiss him straight on the smirk.  He holds onto you tighter, forcing your back to arch away from the wall, pulling your body flush with his.  The sweater he always wears is too thick for you to feel his bones, but your fingers play with the ridges of his neck, and you feel his teeth part your lips.  Something slips into your mouth, warm and crackling with electric magic, and you realize it’s his tongue.  It’s not the first time you’ve seen it, but you never knew it would feel that amazing.  Your body feels hot and tingly, and your heart is pounding so forcefully against your sternum that you’re certain he can feel it, too.  

You’re drunk off his kiss–or maybe just the lingering taste of whiskey in his mouth.  You suddenly remember just how drunk he is and pull back.  His mouth immediately moves to your neck, his orange tongue sliding down your skin, sending delightful tingles straight to your chest.  Your fingernails involuntarily scrape his vertebrae, and he groans.  

“Rus.  Rus, wait.  Were you drinking because Sans said something about me not wanting a monster?”

He pauses, his tongue receding so that only his teeth rested against the juncture of your shoulder and neck.  “eh–somethin’ like that.”  He shrugged, but didn’t move away from you.  “not like it isn’t the truth, i jus’…”  He trails off, obviously trying to censor himself despite his filter being partially down from the booze.  

“It’s not true.  What, you think I just want a quickie in the alley?”

“heh, ya mean this isn’t you just throwin’ me a bone?”  He lifts his head enough to smirk again.  

“Nope.  I like you, Rus.  I’d like to give the whole dating thing a try, if that’s something you’d want.”  

Good lord, you’ve never been this direct before–but after his admissions, you feel like it’s necessary to spell it out.  

“ok.  i’ll be your bonefriend,” he agrees, his smirk turning shit-eating.  You shake your head, laughing.  It always comes so easy when you’re around him.  

“Great.  Now that this is settled, wanna come back inside?  My break’s been over for a while now.”

“sure, i could go for another drink or two.”  He finally steps away, letting you step out of the alley on wobbly legs.  Just like that, everything between you both had changed.  It felt different, putting a label on the mutual feelings you shared, as if everyone could see the charge between both of you now.  

Your face is still blood-red when you re-enter Muffet’s, and you feel the eyes of the booth-ful of humans land on you again.  Papyrus instantly slips his arm around your shoulders, narrowing his gaze on them.  You remember the way he had looked through you while they flirted with you, the way he had obviously been thinking about what his brother said earlier, that you would end up with another human.  

And you turn and rock up on the balls of your feet to press a kiss to his cheekbone.  It actually lights up a soft orange, his eyesockets widening at the brazen display of affection.  

“I’m all yours,” you reassure him, before you step out of his possessive hold so that you can continue your shift.  

He chuckles, his usual lazy smirk more tender than usual.  

“darlin’, that’s my line.” 

(* Mobile Imagine Masterlist  )

Night Changes

Pairings: Sebastian Stan x Reader

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, unwanted sexual advances (It’s mild but it still might be graphic guys, read with caution) forced kissing, mentioned violence, angst 

Word Count: 1660

Summary: You see Sebastian out a bar months after you broke up and make a decision that goes horribly wrong. 

Request: Hello! Could I request prompt #8 ‘can you hold me?’ With Sebastian Stan? Like they broke up a while ago and one day she is drunk and it’s raining and they run into each other at the bar and he drives her home and fluff perhaps?

A/N: Thanks for the request Sweetheart, hope this is what you were looking for ! I deviated away from the prompt a little, and it’s way more angsty but this was just the idea that came to me. 


Your name: submit What is this?

Admittedly, it should never have gotten to the point that it did. 

I should have had control over myself, over my emotions. I shouldn’t have drunk as much as I did and I certainly shouldn’t have been dancing as provocatively as I was with a man I didn’t know, letting him think that this was heading somewhere it wasn’t. I could still feel the way his fingers had dug into my hips as he rutted up against my ass and it made me feel sick. His breath had been stale with beer and I could still taste it no matter how many times I washed my mouth out. It was like he was lingering on me, reminding me of everything that had happened.

The night had started out harmlessly enough, a few drinks with the girls after work at the bar just down the road from our office. It had only just opened up and there was no better opportunity to try it out than Friday afternoon after a hard, gruelling week. We were having fun, teasing Sarah over her crush on our boss while we worked our way through our second round of cocktails.

It was only when I offered to get the next round that I saw him, the breath catching in my throat as he laughed, tilting his head back to finish off the beer in his hand while clapping the other onto his friends back. I stood there, in the same spot I’d frozen, just staring. It had been months since I’d seen him, since we’d called things off and honestly, it still hurt just as much as it had back then. Our lives had been in different places, his job taking him away for months at a time while mine continued here in New York.

We had the long distance relationship down pat, phone calls, texts and skype, we managed. But it was when he came home that the problems arose, each of us having to learn how to be together again. It was inevitable that our relationship was going to end.

A knock to my shoulder brought me back from my thoughts, my tongue licking over my lips as I continued on my way to the bar, my heart hammering inside of my chest. He looked happy, at ease and it only made me feel worse.

I took a deep breath as I rested my hands on top of the bar, my fingers drumming on the hard mahogany surface.
“What can I get for you?”
“Vodka,” I answered. “Straight, in a shot.”
The bartender quirked an eyebrow but said nothing as he grabbed the bottle from the shelf behind him, pouring out the shot and placing it in front of me. I threw it back quickly, wincing as the alcohol burned down the back of my throat, the tears stinging at the corner of my eyes at the strong taste. When it was all the way down, I raised my hand for another.

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Tinder Date From Hell

Originally posted by lum1natrix

Request: Could you please do a fem! reader fic where y/n is on a first time tinder date, so she wants mark to come with her just in case because she doesn’t know the guy shes meeting. Then the date starts to go bad and mark helps you escape in a funny way? Thnks💗 

Summary: Bad Tinder date. OlderBrother!Mark saves the day, kinda.

A/N: Idk man I meant to have this up on the weekend but I’m glad I waited because damn this is great lol enjoy y’all let me know if you figure out who the date is with lmao

Wordcount: 1580 longer than usual yay

Requests are closed at the moment, sorry folks!

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au where isak is a young professional golfer and even is a photographer and there’s this event in the golf club and they hire even to take pictures and its all good until isak steps on the field and even cant stop taking pictures of him and then isak notices him and even lowers his camera and they just stare at each other for a long second then isaks attention is back to the others next to him. then later when they serve all kinds of food and snacks and drinks, even finds isak again through the lenses and he captures him smiling widely with a champagne glass in his hands (which he holds in a strange way and it makes even smile) and while even’s going through the pictures on his camera,isak walks up to him whispering like “why do you keep taking pictures of me?” and even swallows hard, “i was hired to take pictures” and isak looks like a child about to whine ,”yeah but its..always me” and evens hands are shaking a little, “you just,have a photogenic face” and isaks mouth closes and he furrows his eyebrows and then even’s leaving with a “im sorry, i won’t bother you anymore”. and then its late, getting dark and not many ppl stayed behind but even did for night shots (maybe more for himself than to who hired him) and then he turns around to the sound of footsteps and its isak, walking up to him with his hands in his pockets and he blows air out of his nose, “you really made sure i didnt see you for the rest of the event” and even just shrugs and watches isak stop next to him and smirk, “i was there looking all photogenic for nothing” and even raises his eyebrows, “too bad” and copies isak’s smirk, then isak bites the inside of his cheek and nods then points to the camera in evens hands “are you done?” and when even tells him yes ,isak takes it from him with a questioning look and even lets him, then isak holds it in front of his face and clicks, “sorry, youre just really photogenic” and even rolls his eyes, “im not” and isak pulls an offended face, “excuse me? im the photographer, i know my thing” and even shakes his head with a laugh and isak clicks again then evens like, “alright, thats enough, give it back” and isak chuckles,”take it” and takes a step backwards and even tilts his head to the side, “are you serious.” and isak shrugs and starts walking backwards and even follows him but then isak starts running and so does even,and theyre shouting and laughing breathlessly and isak takes a few pictures while theyre running and then he stops and even almost bumps into him and he takes the camera and isaks laughing, “that was fun” and evens like “for you!” and isak frowns, still smiling, “okay then, what would be fun for you?” ,”going home” ,and isak snorts, “right. what about the stars?” and even looks at him confused “what about them?”, then isak just. lies on the grass with his hands on his stomach and starts saying some facts and stuff, and even raises his eyebrows still standing, “you love the stars?” and isak smiles, “im fascinated by the universe” and thats what makes even lie down next to him and they stay there, even listening to isak talk and he has to sit up after a while before he does something stupid like kiss isak. then they part ways and even walks home. and when he’s printing the pictures out and comes across the ones isak took, he cant help but smile.and after finding out which one isak’s locker is at the golf club, he starts putting the pictures in there with different facts about the stars or his own point of view on the whole thing they talked about and there’s always a reply in a little creak between the lockers and even reads them every night. on the last picture he places in isaks locker there’s smth different written on it and this time he makes sure that isak’s there that exact time and he waits until isak finds it, he waits lying out on the grass where they ran to the other night, and isaks finally walking there and he’s sitting down next to even, holding the picture out to him, “lets look at stars?” he quotes the text on the picture, “its 4 in the afternoon. there are no stars” and even turns his head to look at isak, popping on his elbows, “thats weird. im pretty sure im looking at one right now” and isak rolls his eyes and pushes even back to the ground then he himself lies down too, then they lace their little fingers and soon enough they are looking at the starry sky and wishing on a shooting star. and kissing isak may or may not have been even’s wish but it happens regardless

The Truth *Derek Hale x Reader*

Warnings- Angst, smut, language, I think that’s. Besides most likely shitty writing.

Requested?- Yes, @arlaina28


Derek Hale, the perfect definition of a heartbreak waiting to happen. Yet, why do I still love him when he sees me as a kid he’s babysitting? In reality I should have an undisputed hatred towards him, yet still I can’t bring myself to hate him. No it’s not just because of his dastardly good looks, or his tragic backstory. It’s because of the rare glimpses I get at his heart. Those moments that I get to see him have true emotion in his eyes instead of his typical brooding glare. Those are the moments that made me fall head over heels for Derek Hale, and I hate myself for it.


“Y/n?” Derek barked from behind the door, waking me with a start.

This is not how I wanted to start my morning I think to myself as I answer back a simple yes not wanting to anger him more than he already is.

“Get your ass up and get out here now!” his voice sounding more like a growl than anything.

What did I do now? That’s when I realize, my diary was still on the table from last night. That entry was all about him. My eyes immediately dart to the window calculating in my head if escaping through it was a better alternative to what awaited for me behind my bedroom door. 

In the end I decided to just face the music and be berated by my alpha for writing of him in such a way, that made me out to be a fool. Anxiously trying to by myself time. I got up and instead of keeping my pajamas on until it was time for me to shower, I got dressed. Carefully listening to my alpha pace around the living room where I knew he was waiting for me to leave the safety of my room, that’s one of the very few rules set by Derek, if the door to someones personal room is closed you are to leave them be until it is opened. Finally walking out of my room I’m greeted with the sight of Derek, only in his sweatpants, pacing the living room eyes glued to the book in front of him, that book being none other than my diary. I tried to get a scent of him to figure out how angry he was but all I smelt on him was anxiety and something else I just couldn’t put my finger on.

“It appears a certain beta has been keeping something from her Alpha,” Derek spoke breaking the tension in the room, “Any idea reason why you decided to keep something like this from me?” he continued on in a voice that began to have more of sultry tone rather than annoyance.

“I didn’t want you to be upset with me Derek… I’ll leave if you want me to, I’d understand completely why you’d hate me even more now,” my voice shaking tears threatening to spill from my eyes.

His eyes softened at my words, the smell of confusion filling the air. “What do you mean hate you even more? Who said that I hated you?” his voice soft, almost as if he was speaking to a scared animal.

“I just assumed seeing as you always seem pissed whenever you have to deal with me. I just figured you hated me for intruding on your life, you just never gave off the impression that you liked my presence…” my voice small, in that moment I only wanted to curl up in a ball and disappear. My eyes fell to the floor not being able to stand looking at my alpha anymore.

“Y/n I, I don’t hate you… and I’m sorry I made you feel that way… Look I’m not mad at you for writing this stuff,” he spoke softly while slowly moving closer to me until his hand rested on my tensed shoulders. At this point tears were leaking out of my eyes no matter how hard I tried to fight them. “Y/n look at me,” Derek requested using his pointer finger to guide my head to look up, worry shining in his eyes by the tears rolling down my cheeks.

“I’m sorry Derek… I didn’t mean to fall for you…” sorrow filled each word as I spoke, choking up on my words. I didn’t expect Derek to pull my small frame into his chest and his strong arms to encase me in the warmest embrace I’d felt in my life. 

“Y/n you don’t need to be sorry and you certainly don’t have to cry. The reason I’m so hard on you is because I care for you, and that anger you think is aimed towards you is more aimed towards myself because I’m supposed to train you and lead you, not fall for your quirky self,” his words surprising me as my head shot off his chest to look at him.

“What?” astonishment laced the word, eyes wide and mouth left agape.

“I mean it’s hard not to, with your lively spirit, and the face you make when you finally get a move correct in training. And your voice? You probably don’t think I hear you when you decide to sing in the shower, whether it be a known song or one you make up, it sounds like angels coming down from the heavens. You’re a gorgeous, intelligent, and talented woman Y/n, any man who knew you like I do would feel the same,” each word he spoke caused love to shine in his eyes, a smile gracing his features.

“Well that’s a relief,” giving him no time to respond asking what that meant, my lips crashed into his, taken aback by my initiative Derek grasped my hips in his large hands and kissed me back with all his worth. 

Not breaking the kiss until our lungs burned with the need for oxygen, our eyes met and a silent question hung in the air. A small smirk graced Derek’s face causing me to raise an eyebrow. Opening my mouth to speak I was cut off by a gasp as Derek swiftly bent down and lifted me with two hands gripping onto my ass. His lips meeting mine again as he walked us to his bedroom.

Dropping me on his bed, the tension thick. “Do you know how hot you look right now? But before I do anything else, I have to ask… is this what you want?” he spoke into my ear in a seductive growl sending a shiver up my spine.

Instead of answering him with words, I ripped my top off and pulled his head down to kiss him again. A growl escaping his throat at my actions. Derek dropped his lips to my neck and sucking behind my ear. 


“You know,” his voice tantalizingly low, “you had some pretty intense stuff in that diary of yours. I’ve never gotten hard just reading something but God that shit got me harder than steel,” Grinding his hardening cock against me almost to prove a point, a moan escaping me. “Shit baby that was hot,” Derek groaned into my ear.

My mind was clouded with Derek, already close to cloud nine and he hadn’t even touched me yet. “Derek,” desperation present in my voice, “I need you to touch me, please Derek,”.

“Don’t worry babygirl I have you,” his voice getting impossibly deeper as his hand grazed down the middle of my abdomen, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Gasps of breath leaving my lips as he got closer to my sopping pussy, only to slightly brush over it. His skillful hand went and unclasped the button and zipper from my shorts, dipping his fingers into the waistband of my panties after doing so. “Shit baby, you’re already so wet for me,” Derek whispered into my ear.

“Only for you Der, please stop teasing me I need you,” Derek decided to take pity on me and pushed his ring and middle finger into my tight heat curling them in a come here motion. Moans fell from my lips without hesitation. The alpha in front of me was taking effect to the sounds I was making.

“The sooner you cum for me this way, the quicker we can get to the real fun,” Derek all but growled into my ear, biting down on the lobe causing a whimper to escape me. Without warning I was cumming hard, taking the suggestion as an order from my alpha, eyes flickering to their golden color. Taking his hand out of my pants, Derek sucked his two fingers into his mouth and groaned, eyes flashing crimson at me. 

“Derek take me, make me yours alpha,” my pants and panties were ripped from my body before I could speak another word, Derek’s shirt and pants following soon after. I was in complete awe of my alpha as he slowly took his boxers off, his hard cock slapping up against his stomach. Everything about him was perfect, his cock at least 8 inches and thick, my mouth watering just looking at it. Derek shoved me to my back and snapped my bra straps with his claws. I shrugged the torn fabric from my shoulders, insanely turned on by the way my alpha was looking at me.

“You ready babygirl?” Derek asked as he gripped his cock in his hand stroking it slightly. 

Not trusting my voice, I nodded enthusiastically, eager to please my alpha.

Lining his cock up with my soaking pussy, he slowly pushed into me groaning as he bottomed out. “Fuck, you’re so tight Y/n,” Derek groaned out pausing to allow me to adjust to the stretch. 

Bucking my hips up in an attempt to get him to move, Derek gripped my thighs and hooked my legs over his shoulders. He began thrusting erratically into me. 

“Oh my god, Derek yes!” I screamed out, the pleasure of having my alpha fucking me so well, hands gripping at the sheets.

“You like that babygirl? You like how your alpha fucks you nice and hard?” Derek groaned out, “You’re so fucking tight baby, you squeeze my cock so well,” his head thrown back in pleasure.

“Fuck Derek, I’m so close,” I moaned out the knot in my stomach tightening getting so close to snapping.

“Cum for me baby, let me feel you cum around me,” Derek groaned out, his cock twitching signalling he was close to his release as well.

Just like that, the dam burst and I was crying out, back arching, and toes curling. “Derek! Alpha, yes!” I cried out pleasure entirely consuming me. 

“Oh shit Y/n I’m so fucking close,” his head dropping down to look at my face, biting his lip as if to keep his noises at bay.

“Do it alpha, cum in me, wanna feel it, please” I pleaded, already close to cumming for my third time in the night. “Need you to claim me alpha please,”

“Shit,” Derek dropped my legs down and nuzzled his head into my neck, “Fuck I’m cumming baby,” I moaned out as I came along with my alpha, crying out his name. “Mine,” Derek growled before baring his teeth and clamping down on my shoulder.

“Fuck yes alpha!” my body arching into his as he rode out our orgasms. Derek released my neck from his teeth and flopping down onto the bed next to me. Out of breath and legs beginning to go numb I turned to look at him, to find him looking at me already.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/n,” a smile planted on his face as he spoke, “I really love you, you know that?”

My heart fluttered as he spoke, tears of happiness threatening to spill from my eyes, “I love you too Derek, always have.” With that I snuggled into his side and we quickly fell asleep.

Derek Hale was mine, and I was his. Who would’ve thought that’s how this day would’ve gone.

Swept Off My Feet (Part 8)

Misha x Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: the slightest bit of angst, fluff, mention of opioids/pain medication, mild suggestive language.

A/N: Sorry this took so freakin’ long. Here it is. Enjoy. <3

Swept Off My Feet Master List

You stared at the beeping monitors as you stood in the doorway of Misha’s room. His deep brown hair lay in a messy swirl atop his head, crowning his alabaster face. A deep bruise covered a large portion of his right cheek, and his torso was wrapped in white gauze. Specks of red blood seeped through the large bandage.

“Oh, Misha…” You gripped the doorframe as you struggled to hold yourself up. There was the man you truly cared for, the man who you loved. There, you admitted it… to yourself. You loved Misha. And now, he was lying unconscious, bruised and battered, in a hospital bed.

Keep reading

sniperpilot ideas/prompts 2

• Dancer AU where Cassian is a former dancer now a choreographer, who works with Bodhi, a dancer who’s awkward in rehearsals but awesome on stage. He’s a kind of person who never gets a principal role just because he’s too nervous in auditions. All Cassian needs to do is to convince Bodhi his dance is perfect. 


 • Cassian is about go on a mission and he’s convinced himself that he won’t come back from this one. So he suddenly tells Bodhi “I don’t love you anymore” just to set him free instead of making him wait and worried sick. Bodhi is confused and extremely upset, storms out the room and that’s the last they speak to each other. The problem is that Cassian surprisingly manages to come back months later, only to find that Bodhi has left the rebellion to live with Chirrut and Baze who are retired. What will he do now?


 •After Scarif AU in which Bodhi leaves the rebellion as soon as he recovers. He did what he had to do, and Cassian doesn’t stop him so he ends up going back to his gambling life. Thank the force one day Cassian bursts in to his temporary lodgings door and goes like"I need your help Bodhi or we both are gonna die today" Straight back into the middle of a mess, Bodhi realises where he truly belongs and Cassian, he needs to be honest about his feelings this time or Jyn will punch him in the face.


 •Bodhi is stuck in a loop, from the day Galen hands him the message, and every time he fucks up and dies he wakes up on that day. Basically he can’t get out of it until his mission succeeds on Scarif(which means, he also can’t survive…) The first time he reaches to Eadu he tries to stop Cassian from assassinating Galen but he pushes too hard, that he gets shot by the captain, who says"I’m sorry pilot" in a strangely sad voice. So from the next time Bodhi is more careful about this captain, who’s actually stuck in a loop too.

rebelcaptain; flatliners au iv

Some discussion of death, in this one, and near death experiences. Dunno if that’s triggering for anyone, but there’s a content warning, at least. Also: content warning for mentions of alcohol. 

I’M PROCRASTINATING OKAY I’M SORRY. 


She can’t tell if she looks different.

Jyn yanks the paper towels from the dispenser, and wipes her hands off. She’d done her makeup carefully, this morning. She thinks she might be paler than usual. Her lip is split from where she’d bitten it, during the initial shock from the defibrillator. Other than that, there’s no evidence, other than the ten miles she’d run this morning, that she’d died. One minute, forty-two seconds. One hundred two. She tosses the towels in the trash. I was dead for one hundred two seconds.

There had been a beach. Wide and dark. Choppy water, like off the coast of Aberystwyth. The tide had tugged at her ankles. Up and out through the roof of the hospital, spiraling across oceans to a beach she’d never seen, rocky and sloping down to grey water. One hundred two seconds. Where did I go? She meets her reflection in the mirror, inspects herself for evidence. There’s no reason for anyone to be able to tell.

One hundred two.

She ducks out of the restroom.

They’re all in the conference room, already. Bodhi’s saved her a seat beside him, the way he usually does. He’s fidgeting. He’d stayed at hers, last night, but he’d been out the front door before she’d finished showering after her run, back to his own flat to get fresh clothes and wash his face and panic out of her line of sight. Han and Leia are very studiously not looking at each other, on opposite sides of the room. Cassian’s in the corner, staring out the window, and Cassian’s the one to draw her eye. His hair is down. She can’t remember ever seeing him with his hair down, before. She’d thought, at orientation, nearly two and a half years ago now, that it was unprofessional for a male medical student to have such long hair; he kept it pulled out of his eyes, but she always wondered about contamination in testing, about it getting in his face during examinations or surgeries. Now she can’t picture him without the stupid little knot at the back of his head. It’s hiding his face, stringy around his cheekbones. He’s not showered, she thinks, and sinks into her seat, slowly. And he’s not looking at her.

Jyn, come on. She’d heard that much, at least. A murmur. Come on, Jyn. Come on. Then, softly, his eyes creasing at the corners: You’re okay.

She can’t remember him ever looking at her like that before.

Keep reading

So I just finished rewatching Voltron: Legendary Defenders and THEY’RE JUST SO CUTE???

(sorry for the bad pictures)

1. Pidge refered to herself as Kitty Rose??? idk why but its adorable

2. Keith thinks it’s an honor to fly with the other paladins, even though he’s only known some of them for less than a day.

3. SHIRO FOCUSING AND TRYING SO HARD TO STACK HIS LION ON TOP.

4. THEIR LITTLE SITS

LOOK AT LITTLE PIDGE

SO PEACEFUL

CRISS CROSS APPLE SAUCE

5. They DO get along.

6. So pure, just imagining it is cute

7. LANCE BABY NO

8. ALLURA’S FACE

9. I’m sorry but THEY’RE SO BEAUTIFUL WHEN THEY’RE IN PAIN???

10. Keith has beautiful feet. (also this shot is slightly suggestive when taken out of context)

11. IT’S THAT SPONGEBOB MEME

12. dis “handshake” though

13. Lance’s impressions

14. JUST THIS WHOLE SCENE IN GENERAL

15. SAME MOUSEY, SAME

16. THE YELLOW LION IS A BOY???

17. ha we’ll see shiro…we’ll see… (maybe not but we still need you T^T)

I can’t wait for season 3.

Flight pt. 1

Hey guys, so my husband and I flew into Berlin yesterday and the airport was a nightmare. So while Ol sleeps off a bit of a hangover, I took myself out for coffee and imagined Mickey and Ian trying to navigate an airport together :) Please feel free to share any thoughts or prompts for the next chapter - thanks for reading as always, Han xx

“Well this fuckin’ sucks.”

“Can you just stop fussing for two minutes, please?”

Ian shot Mickey a look that he usually reserved for Yevgeny when he was on the verge of a tantrum. Mickey raised his eyebrows and widened his eyes with an expression that clearly said ‘Well you fuckin’ brought me here’.

“Look, the security check is always the worst bit…”

“Yeah, if you’re a god damned terrorist which we’re NOT!”

The last word lifted in a shout at the old black security guard stood by the body scanners. The guard frowned at Mickey but then rolled his eyes and mercifully decided to ignore him.

“Would you stop?”

Ian hissed, jerking Mickey round to face him. Mickey’s cheek distorted as he pushed his tongue into it and Ian sighed and allowed a smile to touch the tight line of his compressed lips.

“What’s the matter? Is it really the wait or are you worried about flying?”

“Course I’m worried about fuckin’ flying! You put a load of assholes in a tin can that is powered on fire and …”

“What?”

Ian laughed and Mickey spread his hands in front of him with a gesture of impatience

“Fuckin’ fire, Ian.”

“They don’t … wait … Why do you think they run on fire?”

“Flames shoot out the back of them when they take off, I’ve seen it on TV. It’s fuckin’ crazy.”

Mickey murmured absently as he peered around the woman in front of him and scowled at someone at the very front of the queue who was rummaging for something in their suitcase, a small pile of clothes and shoes beside them.

“Oh sure, by all means start unpacking your shit here, that oughta speed things up real well.”

“Sir, don’t yell at the other passengers.”

The security guard sounded tired and Ian kind of felt for the guy but Mickey, always happy to spell shit out for people, pointed his passport at him like a gun and snapped

“Then you fuckin’ do it, numbnuts. We all got flights to catch and personally I wouldn’t mind missing mine and goin’ home but pretty sure all these other people want to get fuckin’ movin’.”

The security guard stepped forward angrily, ready for a confrontation and Ian gripped Mickey’s arm hard

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

He breathed, not bothering to look down at his boyfriend. Mickey cleared his throat in a manner that suggested Ian remove his hand immediately but Ian retained his grip and smiled sweetly at the guard

“Sorry, nervous flier. But uh, he does kind of have a point. Think you could maybe get that guy to let someone who’s ready go ahead of him?”

The crowd around them made a low murmur of agreement and the guard, pooched his lower lip out as he considered his options with regard to the two young men before him. It almost certainly wasn’t worth the headache of trying to take on the small one and the bigger one had raised a fairly decent point …

“I’ll see what I can do, but you gotta watch your tone, son.”

Mickey returned the open eyed stare but remained silent much to Ian’s relief.

“Thank you, Sir.”

Ian smiled and watched the guards retreating back for a moment before letting go of his boyfriends arm.

“OK, you have GOT to calm down. You’re going to end up getting frisked or something.”

“I ain’t got nothing to hide. You told me I couldn’t bring shit. Fuckin’ insisted as I recall.”

The accusation in his tone was evident and Ian fought back a smile

“I like having you around and orange is not your colour.”

“Yeah well, it’s fine. We’re goin’ to California not Colombia. Man, the shit I could have brought back if …”

“Shhh.”

Ian made a shushing gesture with his hands and Mickey rolled his eyes impatiently.

“Still say we could have drove there.”

“Well yeah if you wanted to spend weeks on the road not the beach.”

Mickey grinned at that and nodded

“I am lookin’ forward to the beach. Sand between my toes, Hawaiian shirts and watchin’ your ginger ass burn up like a mother fucker.”

“I bought sun-screen. It’s factor fifty.”

Ian sounded rather proud of this and Mickey put an arm around his waist and squeezed briefly

“It could be factor one thousand, firecrotch. Your people just ain’t made for the sun.”

*

Once they finally made it through security, Ian led them down the maze of corridors that marked the way to their boarding gate. Mickey had wanted to stop at the duty free and get a bottle of vodka but Ian had fibbed and told him they really didn’t have time. He hated being dishonest with Mickey but the closer they got to the flight time, the more twitchy his boyfriend was getting and Ian knew that adding hard liquor to his nerves was not going to end well.

“Holy fuck. Those things are huge!”

Mickey pressed his face to the glass wall overlooking the taxiway, his hands splayed against it like a kid.  

“Yeah. Come on.”

“Which one is ours?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is it the blue one?”

“Maybe.”

“It better not but that fuckin’ white one over there. Thing looks old as shit.”

“Nah, that one belongs to Air Italia. Ours is American Airlines”

“Well that thing ain’t makin’ it all the way back to Italy. They’ll have to tow it or tie it to the top of a bigger plane or something”

Ian couldn’t help but laugh as he took a firm grip on Mickey’s collar and gently steered him away from the window.

*

There was another queue to get onto the actual plane and Ian glanced anxiously down at Mickey who was rocking up on the balls of his feet to try to see the front of the line.

“Are you OK?”

“I’m kinda excited actually. Sort of feels like when you’re runnin’ from the cops and you’re scared as shit cause you got a fuck ton of coke strapped to your chest but also you’re lovin’ it cause they’re dumb, fat fucks and you know you got a pretty good chance of out running ‘em. You know? Feels like that.”

By Mickey’s usual standards, that was a monologue worthy of an Oscar. Ian nodded as if he knew exactly what he meant and pressed a kiss to the top of his boyfriends head. The woman in front of them was looking around worriedly, clutching her purse to her side a little more tightly than she had been. Mickey didn’t notice but Ian did and stuck his chin out pugnaciously, giving her his best ‘angelic thug’ smile and put his arm protectively around Mickey’s shoulders.

She blushed and turned back around quickly. Ian kissed Mickey again and squeezed his shoulder, feeling a rush of protective love for his wild, brash and wonderful man. Mickey looked up at him, surprised and then reached up and pulled Ian down for a proper kiss.  

“Maybe this flying thing isn’t so bad, huh?”

He smiled as they broke away. The steward at the front of the line listened to something on her headset and then beckoned the first passenger and opened the line. Boarding had begun.

*

“FUCK! Jesus Christ, Ian. What was that?”

“It’s the engines starting.”

Ian tried to free his hand from the death grip Mickey had on it but the tattooed fingers were clamped tight around his own and refusing to budge. Mickey’s eyes were wide with alarm and his chest was rising and falling in rapid breaths.

“Hey, it’s fine. Look, no one else is worried. We’re fine.”

“All these fuckers must have a death wish. Shit. This sucks. This fuckin’ sucks.”

Mickey tucked his chin onto his chest and pressed his lips tightly together, eyebrows furrowed in a stern frown.

“You want a drink?”

“I want a smoke.”

“You can’t smoke on the plane.”

Mickey’s head shot up and he stared at Ian in open horror

“The fuck I can’t!”

“It’s illegal.”

“So is most of the shit I do.”

Mickey quipped and leant across Ian to catch the sleeve of one of the female stewards walking down the aisle, his most charming smile lighting his face

“Excuse me, miss. Can I get a smoke?”

“No, I’m sorry sir. There is a strict no smoking policy on all flights.”

Mickey’s face dropped and he bit his lip hard

“Shit. OK, you got booze though right?”

“Yes, the drinks cart will come around just as soon as …”

“I’m gonna need something now.”

Mickey interrupted her and she looked down at him sympathetically

“Not a great flyer?”

“No.”

“He’ll be fine. It’s his first time.”

Ian carefully removed Mickey’s grip on the woman and patted the back of his hand reassuringly

“Don’t talk about me like I’m not fuckin’ here. Listen, lady, I don’t wanna be an asshole but if you don’t want me smokin’ you have got to get me a drink and I mean, like, now. Beer, vodka, whisky … anything with a percentage.”

The steward blinked, taken aback and then nodded and held up one finger and winked at him.

“Thank you. Jesus.”

Mickey sat back and closed his eyes.

“Think of the beach, Mick. Think of the ocean!”

Ian smiled hopefully and rubbed Mickey’s leg in encouragement. The reply was characteristically short and informative.

“I’m thinkin’ of drowning you in it for makin’ me do this.”

“Fair enough.”

Ian kissed his cheek and settled back against his seat wondering how Mickey was going to cope with take-off and hoping that the drink would arrive quickly.  

anonymous asked:

OH MY GOD I JUST THOUGHT OF A REQUEST YOU KNOW THERES THAT ONE TEXTPOST ABOUT JUNGKOOK MOST LIKELY TO CARRY YOU BRIDAL STYLE THEN BUMPS YOUR HEAD ON THE INTO THE DOORFRAME UNF YES THAT

I had a lot of potential scenes laid out for this scenario, but I ended up going a little more fluff-y route ^-^ hopefully you like it! <3


It starts as a favor. Your friend from class, Yoongi, needs someone to be a model for his photography project. You agree because he’s nice, and you both get along well. However, you have to admit that you’d had no idea what you’d gotten yourself into.

Walking up the steps of the church isn’t nerve-wracking at all, but the minute you step through the doors and see Jeon Jungkook up head, dressed in a well-fitted tux, you kind of feel like melting into a puddle. Or maybe just dying. But either way you can’t handle this.

It’s not like you have a crush on Jeon Jungkook or anything—in fact, you’re actually well acquainted with him, and may even call him a friend—but you’re used to seeing him in sweatpants and a jacket at the library, quietly studying away. Seeing him here in front of you, black hair styled perfectly and messing with his cufflinks, an innocent look on his face (like he doesn’t know how freakin’ stunning he is)—it’s really messing with your brain and heart.

“Oh, Y/N,” Yoongi says at spotting you and waves you over. Embarrassed, not knowing how long you’ve been standing in the entrance staring at Jungkook like an idiot, you jog forward and meet the two at the head of the row. When Jungkook smiles at you in greeting, you smile back and hope that the rapid thumping of your heart isn’t visibly showing.

“Here’s your dress,” Yoongi suddenly speaks up, shoving a bundle of fabric into your arms. Surprised, you blink down at the fountain of white that you’re holding and then look up to Yoongi, utterly confused. Rolling his eyes at your oblivious look, the older male nudges you towards the nearby bathroom.

“Go get changed. Let’s get this photoshoot over with sooner rather than later, yeah?”

Unsure what to do, you simply follow his directions and head away, shielding yourself behind closed doors. When you emerge a few minutes later your red cheeks are contrasting your brilliant white dress, and despite your obvious embarrassment at wearing a cocktail length wedding dress both males attention immediately turns to you.

“Wow,” Jungkook says, eyes shifting from you to himself. “It looks like we’re actually about to get married. What the hell, hyung?”

“My photography teacher is tired of me turning in profiles filled with still life and neutral emotions. She wants me to give her something…alive. Something happy, I guess. So, when I thought of the idea of being happy, getting married was the first thing that came to mind, so here we are.”

“Why didn’t you just get married to Jimin then?” you mumble under your breath. “Then you’d actually be happy.”

“Nice,” Jungkook laughs behind his hand, and the two of you high-five, ignoring the way Yoongi is glaring at you. Luckily, he sighs soon after and waves you both off, starting towards the back of the church hall.

“Whatever—let’s get started. The two of you just need to act like a happy couple, alright?”

“Alright,” Jungkook responds quietly, watching Yoongi’s back as he walks away, fiddling with his camera. Gulping, you turn your head and look at Jungkook, a little overwhelmed, because dear god the two of you are supposed to act like a happy couple together??? Your heart is thumping already…

“Hey, you good?” Jungkook comments, snapping you out of your worrying thoughts. All embarrassed at having been daydreaming right in front of him, you nod your head and try to shove any of your distracting thoughts away.

“I’m good!” you comment, smiling (albeit a bit nervously). “Let’s not keep Yoongi waiting!”

Nodding, Jungkook smiles back at you reassuringly, takes your hand in his, and gently tugs you up the aisle.

Oh, how you’re going to explode.


“Alright, we’re almost done!” Yoongi announces, dropping his camera and fiddling with the lens. A moment later Jungkook’s hands slide down your waist and brush over your hips before a small sigh tickles your ear and he leans back away from you.

“Who would’ve thought posing would be so hard,” he says, rubbing his neck, and you laugh quietly in agreement, feeling a little more comfortable around him, but still embarrassed nonetheless. Having Jungkook hug you and hold your waist, placing his head near your shoulder with your cheeks nearly smushed together…you’re hoping your pink face can double as looking like blush in Yoongi’s photos.

“Let’s get one last shot of Jungkook carrying you outside and then we’ll be done! I have enough here I can work with,” Yoongi announces in a loud mumble, turning to head outside without looking at either of you.

“Sorry,” you immediately say, placing your hand on Jungkook’s shoulder. He just rolls his eyes, and bends down, hooking his arm under your knees. A second later your find yourself strongly held against him, his face peaceful as he effortlessly carries you towards the doorway.

However, right as you’re about to pass through you see something out of the corner of your eye, and before you can say anything your head clunks against the doorframe.

Shit,” you curse quietly at the pain that resonates throughout your skull. You instinctively bury your face into Jungkook’s chest and lift your hands to cradle your head. Not a second you hear Yoongi’s distant swear, and Jungkook intake a shocked breath.

“Oh, shit–! I’m so sorry, Y/N! Are you ok??”

Cracking your eyes open, you notice that Jungkook is no longer holding you, but has set you on your feet, your back leaning against the doorframe as he brushes your hair out of you face. His dark eyes are filled with worry and he gently picks up your hands and moves them away, eyebrows furrowed as he tenderly checks over your head.

He’s so damn precious like this, worrying over you and so apologetic and caring that you can’t take it, and you let loose a laugh because dammit this is just too much. You have such a crush on him, and at this point you’re so done stressing out over it. He’s so freakin’ cute.

“Dammit, Jungkook,” you laugh, rubbing your head and hitting his chest playfully, a disbelieving smile pulling at your lips. “Remind me to never marry you. Jesus.”

“Wha…?” he starts, taken aback, and he breaks out laughing as well, grabbing your hand still lingering on his chest and holding it tight. “How are you gonna say you don’t wanna marry me when we haven’t even gone on a first date yet?”

“First date?” you repeat, eyebrows waggling, and instantly Jungkook’s ears redden at realizing what he’s just said.

“I, uhhh…wanna go on a date?” he stutters awkwardly, trying to regain his footing in the situation, and you giggle quietly, cheeks blushing yet again.

“Of course I’ll give you a shot, dummy. When are you free?”

Jungkook smirks, rubbing his neck. “Are you free after this?”

“Indeed I am,” you respond, and before you and Jungkook can fully get lost in your own world of flirting, Yoongi’s voice cuts in.

“Wow…in the future when you two get married I better get credit,” he says, stepping forward, and both you and Jungkook sigh in embarrassment. Yoongi only grins and continues, patting each of you on the shoulder.

“Now, now—don’t let me keep you two! Go and get changed and go out for your little date~”

“Hyung…,” Jungkook whines, but nonetheless allows Yoongi to push him back into the church, and you follow closely behind them, a wide smile hiding behind your palm. For someone who was terrified of potentially having a crush on Jeon Jungkook at the beginning of this shoot, you’re sure not minding it too much at the end.

TomTord Week Day 3 - Redemption AU 
This may have ended up more of a post-The End fic than a true Redemption AU…. 

- - - - - - - -

               Everyone thinks he’s dead. When that harpoon pierced through his robot, they assumed he’d been destroyed in the crash. He survived. He tore himself out of the wreckage and flopped down on that bloody earth to observe the aftermath of his failures. He allowed himself to be dragged away, patched together, and propped back on his feet like someone’s Frankensteinian art project.

               He didn’t want forgiveness- didn’t deserve it anyway. It wouldn’t change what happened, and it sure as hell wouldn’t fix anything. Tord never had a family, but the boys in that house had come the closest. They were the family he’d never asked for. He’d never wanted to get so attached, and had hoped (like a fool) that those feelings would dissipate in their years spent apart.

               I. AM NOT. YOUR FRIEND!

               The declaration still echoes through his mind at the worst opportunities. It should not hurt as much as it does, but something shattered that day. His friends made him week.

               In the years following the disaster the Red Army has completely fallen apart. Tord lost his passion for the fight, and despite his best efforts everyone could sense the change. It’s hard to lean an army of renegades when your heart isn’t in it. Paul and Patryk stuck around for a while, likely as a result of some displaced sense of duty or obligation. Tord didn’t have the energy for it- for them. They expected things of him that he could no longer deliver. He had already proved that he wasn’t fit to lead the army, and having his right-hand men around only served to pour salt in the wounds. They deserved better than a broken shell of a leader.

               Recent history has found Tord spending more and more time lurking in the areas his former housemates frequent. He knows it’s likely some sort of masochistic desire he should have squashed a long time ago, but he can’t be bothered to care. Watching them heal from the disaster- to mourn and laugh and move on- it hurts. It’s a pain he deserves, but it still hurts.

               It’s a cliché horror movie night when Tord is forced from observation to action. It’s dark with clouds blocking the moonlight, rain falling in sheets, occasionally broken up by flashes of lighting. He’s watching the blurry figure of Tom stumble his way out of some back alley bar, clearly well on his way to black out inebriation. Tord cringes somewhat watching him take another swig from his flask before stumbling down the steps and into the rain.        

               Tom looks up at the sky like it offended him, and Tord tries to find amusement, although he’s never really enjoyed seeing his friend steadily drink himself to death. He tries not to think about how much fuel he’s personally added to that fire with his mistakes. He’s so lost in thought that he nearly misses the burly figures emerge from the door and start gesturing at Tom. They appear to be yelling, but Tom just flips them off and finally starts walking away.

               One of the cowards jumps down and clocks him upside the head once his back is turned, sending him sprawling onto the dirty concrete. He doesn’t move right away, and Tord leans forward from his vantagepoint, squinting to try and better make out what’s going on. He’s too far away to be able to tell if Tom’s still conscious, and he feels the moment wrench anxiety in his stomach. He forgets to breath until Tom struggles up onto his hands and knees.

               His breath is abruptly knocked out of his lungs again when one of the goons throws a knee into Tom’s exposed gut. He barely has time to flop onto his back before both men are throwing kicks at every inch of his vulnerable body that they can reach. Tord can’t quite remember deciding to intervene, but he finds himself with one assailant unconscious at his feet and the other staring down the barrel of his gun. “Take your friend and run,” he chokes out, voice gritty from lack of use. The man doesn’t move, so Tord makes sure he can see him cock the gun. “Now!”

               The man was sizing him up- Tord knows he doesn’t possess the most threatening physical presence- but the oaf isn’t quite stupid enough to challenge a loaded weapon. Thankfully, he finally relents and gathers his now half-conscious companion, leaving Tord to re-holster his weapon and rush to Tom’s side.  

               “Come on Thomas, we have to go.” Tord slings an arm around Tom to support his weight and drag him to his feet. “The police will soon be on their way. Come on!”

               Tom’s half-conscious, drunk and bloody, but he starts walking with Tord to the end of the alleyway. It’s then that he stops, much to Tord’s frustration, and blinks blearily at him. His eyes narrow and he leans in closer before leaning back again. There’s a pause before, “Tord?” It’s quiet, slurred, and marked with disbelief.

               There isn’t time for this right now. Tord hoists Tom up by the waistband of his pants and half-drags him the rest of the way into the street. He’s staggering under his weight, but forces himself to move briskly to his car. Tom protests everything with a few garbled curses and groans, but he’s too weak to put up much of a fight. Idiot.

               Tom is passed out cold by the time Tord makes it to his apartment, which is all well and good except it means Tord trying to sneak him in when he’s all dead weight. Tord is panting, clearly out of breath when he finally makes it to door, luckily able to find the key and make it inside before anyone took notice. He flops Tom onto the couch and goes to grab the first aid kit.

               It’s as he’s dabbing at a split lip that Tom flinches slightly, and the tension in the room skyrockets when his eyes blink open. Now that they’re no longer obscured by darkness and rain, it’s harder to hide. There’s a long silence where neither of them moves, Tord too afraid of setting Tom off and Tom- Well. Tord can’t begin to guess what’s parading through that vodka-addled brain right now.

               “You’re dead.” Those two words drop like a sack of bricks and Tord finally lowers his arm and rests both hands on his knees. He can’t bring himself to meet Tom’s eyes, so instead busies himself studying the differences between metal and flesh.

               “Apparently not,” he finally mutters in response.

               “You blew up the house.” There’s no emotion behind the words- they’re merely statements. Either Tom is still too drunk to fully grasp the situation or things are about to get very ugly very fast.

               “Yes.” Tord does his best to keep his tone neutral.

               “I loved you.”

               Oh. The confession had been delivered with the same flat tone as the rest, but it echoes in Tord’s ears like the aftermath of a gunshot. His head whips around and he stares at Tom, slack-jawed and wide-eyed. Surely he misheard. “What?” it’s barely a whisper, so he’s not sure Tom even hears it.

               “I miss you.”

               Tord wants to scream. Words like these should never be spoken like this. It feels sick- he feels sick. They churn in his stomach like burning acid, and he hates Tom for speaking them like facts instead of feelings. He can feel it welling up in his throat and isn’t smart enough to prevent what comes out next, “What is wrong with you?”

               Inky pools flash dangerously, and Tord knows with absolute certainty that he’s messed up. “What’s wrong with me?” There’s a growl in his voice, and Tord briefly regrets wishing for an emotional response. “You almost killed us and you’re asking what’s wrong with me?”

               “Thomas I’m sorry, I-” he’s cut off by a hand fisting in the front of his shirt.

               “You don’t get to be sorry you commie fuck!” he’s much closer to shouting now, practically spitting the words in Tord’s face. “You don’t get to be sorry when you come back and pull that shit! You don’t get to be sorry for lying and turning them against me! You don’t get to be sorry for bruising Matt’s face! You don’t get to be sorry when you destroyed our home! You don’t get to be sorry when you killed someone and would have killed us if I hadn’t shot you out of the air!”

                He’s breathing hard. Tord tries to focus on that, but he’s dizzy. His heart is pounding so hard that he can hear it in his ears. After all this time, he never realized. They really think- Tom really thinks-? “I never would have killed you, Thomas!” he exclaims in disbelief.

               “Bullshit.” There are tears welling in Tom’s eyes. His voice is shaky, but his face is still contorted in absolute fury. “That’s fucking horse shite and you know it! You would have killed anyone who got in your way you fucking psychopath! You wo-!”

               “Stop.” He can’t take it anymore. It’s every nightmare he’s ever had all mixed up in a single moment. He knows he fucked up, but to have his failures thrown in his face like this? He wants to be angry, to fight back like he used to, but he’s too tired. He can’t play this game anymore.

               Tom’s eyes are narrowed into thin slits. “Don’t tell me what to do, asshole!”

               “Okay.” Tord’s defeated tone apparently pisses Tom off more, because it earns him a bruised cheek. He tries not to see the irony as Tom lands hit after hit on an unwilling opponent. Finally Tord lightly grabs his fist and asks gently, “Are you done?”  

               He catches him as Tom falls forward, sobbing into the fabric of Tord’s shirt. Tord is startled to say the least, unprepared for this change of mood. He does know what to do, so he starts rubbing circles on his back like Edd used to do when one of them was sick. He doesn’t have any other options- doesn’t know what to do or say. He can’t fix this. He was a fool to come back, but he’d known that from the start.

               It isn’t clear who moves first or how exactly they end up pressed together, blood mixing with clash of lips and tongues. It isn’t love or passion; it isn’t really what either of them want. It’s anger and sorry and pity and regret. It’s all of the things neither of them have the words for. It’s tearing each other apart bit by bit in the most excruciating way possible, because throwing punches is no longer a sufficient means of punishment. It’s destroying their entire world all over again.

               Hours pass and finally things are quiet. The city is quiet in the way it only is after a storm and just before the dawn. It should be peaceful, but while the tension may be gone, all that’d managed to take its place is the flat sort of exhaustion that comes after a truly horrific loss. Tord is wrapped up in Tom’s arms, marked and spent. They’ve been silent for some time now, and he isn’t eager to shatter it just yet.

               He feels Tom press a kiss to his hair, and the gentleness of the act cuts deeper than a blade ever could. “I want you gone before I wake up,” he whispers softly.

               Tord’s arms are wrapped around his waist and squeeze tight for a moment before going slack. “Okay,” he agrees.

Teased

@mckenziesimpson Baekhyun smut

Author: Admin M

Character(s): Baekhyun (EXO)/Reader

Word Count: 881

Summary: It’s always fun to tease your boyfriend, right?

“Babe stop.” I whined pushing Baekhyun back in he’s seat. 

“Come on. I will be fun.” He gave me those stupid puppy dog eyes.

“Ugh fine but make it quick.” Baekhyun leaned over my seat to the plane’s window seat where Chanyeol was sleeping. He got his marker out and lightly began to draw on his face. 

“Done.” He smirked. I looked over and he had drawn a curly pencil mustache on his upper lip. 

“You are so childish.” 

“That’s just a part of my charm baby.” He winked.

The plane ride was long and it was late at night. Most of the passengers where asleep already. Including me. I had fallen on Baekhyun’s shoulder. He enjoyed the scent of my new shampoo. He gently laid his head on mine. Smiling at the fact he was back with me once more. 

It has been a while since I’ve seen Baekhyun. He was traveling for his work and I happened to surprise him on one of his concerts. We were currently flying back to Seoul. Then the bumps and turbulence began to happen. 

Keep reading

Moriarty X Reader

“James, you better make this quick. I’m not going to wait around for you all day out here,” you told your husband, James Moriarty.

“I promise Y/N, this’ll be quick,” he said as he kissed you and walked inside the theatre.

You pulled out your phone and wasted sometime checking social media, waiting for James to stop messing with Sherlock. After playing a mobile game, you looked at your watch and realized that he had been in there for almost an hour.

Fed up with waiting, you entered the theatre, looking for Jim. “James? It’s been almost an hour, let’s go. This is ridiculous,” you called out.

You walked past the lobby and into the actual theatre. You saw James and Sherlock, battling it out with witty comebacks. Sherlock had a gun pointed at Jim, and a red dot pointed at Sherlock.

“Jim!” you said, not fearing Sherlock. You walked up to the stage. “Let’s. Go,” you said angrily.

“Y/N! What are you doing!” James yelled.

“You said this would be quick! It’s been an hour and I’m ready to go. You can play with Sherlock another day,” you said looking at Sherlock who looked confused.

You walked up to him and yanked his ear. Jim let out a giant sigh and sent you a loving death glare, if that’s possible. “Sorry Sher, I’ll kill you some other time. The wife is calling,” Jim said flashing a smile at Sherlock.

“See you soon, Sherlock,” you called to him.

“Y/N,” Sherlock called. “Stop by Baker Street sometimes, your brother misses you.”

At that you gave a small smile up at him. “Thanks Sherlock I will.”

“Also, Moriarty, I’d suggest keeping her close. You never know who is going to try to hurt you by getting her. Everyone has a weak spot, and yours is her. Watch over her for us.”

Jim didn’t respond but just kept walking out of theatre with your hand in his.

“It would be a lot easier if you all just got along,” you told Jim. You had been missing your brother a lot lately.

“I know Y/N. I’m sorry this is hard on you. You can always go see him, if you want,” Jim offered as you two walked into the sunlight of London.

You smiled a giant smile and went to hug Jim. “Thank you James!” You were about to get in the car when you felt something rip through you.

You looked down and saw that you had been shot, blood staining your shirt and hands. You feel down in shock not able to stay standing. “James!” you called.

His face had lit up in anger and fear. “It’s okay Y/N, I’ve got you,” he said catching you. “Somebody help me!” he called.

Sherlock came running out of the theatre, and saw you laying on the pavement. “Y/N!”

Jim put pressure on the wound, trying to stop the bleeding. “It’s going to be okay, Y/N,” he said trying to calm you down so you wouldn’t go into shock.

Sherlock dialed his phone and was requesting an ambulance.

“Jim,” you said softly, as he got closer to hear what you were going to say, “It’s no use,” you told him as you burrowed your head into his chest. “I love you,” you mumbled.

“I love you too,” he said as he began to cry. He held you until the paramedics showed up.

“She’s gone,” they said after checking your pulse.

James face quickly turned from sadness to rage as he walked up to Sherlock. “That bullet was meant for me, wasn’t it?” he yelled.

Sherlock wore his guilt on his face as he went into shock.

“You killed her!” Moriarty yelled. “I swear to god Sherlock. “I will burn the heart out of you. Just you watch,” he said menacingly as he went back to cradle you in his arms, wishing that you would be here with him. 

because i am absolute garbage and i love to cause myself emotional pain, i bring you yet another ‘neil gets injured’ headcanon (loosely inspired by this post)

Neil knew Riko and Kevin had rabid fans. He knew how mercilessly dedicated exy fans were to their favorite teams, and players. But he’d never imagined himself staring down the barrel of a gun because of one.

“It’s because of you,” the guy shouted, waving the pistol the slightest bit.
You are the reason Riko is dead. You are the reason Kevin never rejoined the Ravens. You, you, you!” He was shouting now, his voice verging on maniacal.

All Neil could do was breathe. His brain was filling with a sharp panic that pushed every reasonable or logical thought out of his head. Just like that, he was back with his father, with Lola, with every threat he’d ever seen in his life.

The fan had caught him on a jog, and Neil still hadn’t recovered from someone sneaking up behind him while he stopped for water. The cold tip of the pistol had sent a shiver down his spine.

He was so close to Fox tower, too. A minute more, and he would have been walking through the doors. But it was five in the morning, and no one was around to see this.

“Nothing to say? Do you have no defense? Or do you already know you’re guilty?” The fan looked less maniacal and more angry now, and Neil was searching for something, anything, to say. 

He opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. He thought what kind of joke Andrew would make right now, something about Neil finally shutting the hell up. The thought of Andrew sent a pang through his chest, but it was also  grounding thought. Even the memory of one of his deadpan jokes brought a insistent half-smile to Neil’s face. He immediately regretted it the moment he felt the muscles twitch in his cheeks.

“So you think it’s funny huh? I can be funny to,” the fan’s face went taught, and Neil only had a second to realize what he meant before a loud echoing bang went off.

Neil felt it hit him with a force that sent him immediately to the ground. He couldn’t tell where the bullet had hit him, but he knew his chest was on fire. 

Distantly, he heard the gun clatter to the ground. The fan whispered a small “oh my god oh my god,” before footsteps thundered past Neil’s head and faded away.

Neil began to feel cold, and his mind was growing slow. He knew what that meant; he was losing a lot of blood, and fast. He kept thinking if he could just roll over, or crawl, or do anything, he could get help. He lifted his head and was smacked with a wave of vertigo that had him slamming his head back down on the pavement. 

“Help,” he said, trying to yell but instead his voice came out as more of a whisper. 

Again, he found his mind wondering to Andrew. Andrew, and his knives, and his sharp attitude that Neil liked for whatever reason. Andrew, who always smelled like cigarettes. Andrew, who was going to find him dead on a sidewalk.

“Help,” Neil tried again, his voice at least coming above a whisper. He heard a door bang open, and Neil thought for a moment that it was Andrew. That Andrew had come to be his saving grace now, like he had been for the past year. 

Neil lolled his head to the side and saw that it was only a random resident of Fox tower, someone he had never seen before. He was blonde though, so in his dazed state Neil pretended, just for a moment, that it was Andrew.

“Oh my god!” The guy yelled, practically throwing himself the several meters towards Neil. 
“I got up early to study, and I heard the gunshot, and I…” He trailed off. Either that, or Neil was losing so much blood that the other man’s words were growing fuzzy. He swore he heard the blond mumble ‘oh my god’ again before picking up his phone.

As he heard the guy begin to go through the script to calling 911, he closed his eyes. He was tired, and he figured he’d be woken up when the ambulance got there.

“Hey, buddy, c’mon. They said I have to keep you awake. Please, you can’t-”

Neil ignored the student’s pleas and kept his eyes firmly shut. It felt too good. Soon he drifted into a cool unconsciousness. 


Flashing lights are the thing that bring him out of it. And after the lights, it’s the sirens. After the sirens, it’s the screaming. Neil can’t make out who it is, but someone is raising their voice louder than everyone else. It’s low, and angry. Like everything this morning (was it still morning? Neil couldn’t tell) the voice reminded him of Andrew, but he couldn’t match Andrew’s face with the sound.

“Andrew,” Neil choked out anyway, barely getting the word out. The yelling stopped. 

“I’ll get him for you, kid,” the voice replied. Neil fell back asleep.


When he woke up again, he was blasted with a bright white light. His first thought was that he really was dead. His second was that he couldn’t believe the white light cliche was true. Then everything stared to piece themselves together. The area around the light came into view. White ceiling tiles.

He tried to get up, but a sharp pain in his chest stopped him, as well of several painful points in his arm that prevented movement. He moved his head as much as he could and saw that he had an IV hooked into each arm. 

With this, he also saw a tuft of blonde hair laying very carefully next to him on the hard hospital bed. A hand sat next to Neil’s; close enough to be touching, but very consciously not. Neil grinned. Finally, he thought.

“Andrew,” he whispered, followed by a coughing fit. His mouth and throat were so dry they felt like sandpaper. Immediately though, the figure bolted up off the bed as Neil took a last long breath to calm down.

“Yes or no?” He asked, looking over Neil like he was assessing the damage of his car. Neil only nodded, and Andrew slipped his hand into Neil’s own while the other went straight to his neck.

Andrew looked for a minute like he might start interrogating Neil right then, but he let out a breathe and moved his hand down to Neil’s chest.

“You’re making it really hard to do my job, Josten. I can’t protect you if you get yourself shot before I even wake up.” Andrew paused, his face as emotionless as ever. “Damn Wymack had to come and tell me you were here.”

Neil would point out hat it wasn’t Andrew’s job to look out for him anymore, but he didn’t have it in him to argue. 

“I won’t do it again,” was all he said, staring at his own fingers interlocked with Andrew’s. He brushed him thumb over Andrew’s hand ever so slightly.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Josten.”

A Strange Kind Of Home 4

Author: AvengeSuperWhoLock

Word Count: 1644

Pairing: BuckyxReader

Summary: Set in 1941 just before Bucky leaves for England to fight in the war. You tell him about your plan to become a soldier which forces the two of you to revisit a night in the past that you’d rather forget. 

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9

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2

WARNING SMUT OF ALL SMUT SMUT SMUT , DADDY KINK, ROUGH , DRUG USAGE.

INSPIRED BY : DON’T THREATEN ME WITH A GOOD TIME BY PANIC AT THE DISCO.

My vision is so blurry, waking up I have no idea where I am or what the hell happened. In what looks like a ghetto apartment, wearing nothing but my underwear, looking around there are a good amount of liquor bottles on the shelves completely empty. My head hurts so bad looking around, I didn’t remember anything or how I got here. Getting dressed I could hear the shower running, I left quickly to avoid the awkward “oh your not gone yet” talk. Putting on my shade I walked to the nearest coffee shop. , since I have no idea where my car is. Sitting down with my coffee, sipping on it carefully, I walked back to the bar I met my friends at. “Oswald” my car sat in its parking lot, driving home all I could think about was a hot shower. Getting undressed I noticed bite marks on my hips and neck.  

“what the hell happened?”

Getting out of the shower I put on my biggest t shirt trying to remember, it only 2 in the afternoon so I have all day. Laying back memory just started to pop up. I met jade at Oswald for our usual girls night out. We were getting shot when this guy bumped into me spilling my drink onto the floor.  

“why cant I remember his face!”

Pulling my pillow over my face my phone started to ring. The number showing I have never seen before, answering it all I could hear was a man, with a growl like voice speak.

“where did you go ?”

“who is this?”

“really?”

“im sorry, im having a hard time remember what happened.”

“well lets have a retake, meet me at Oswald’s at 8 and wear something sexy.”

He hung up after that, I have no idea who he is or what happened but when he commanded me to meet him, I felt myself get a little wet. Getting dressed in my little black dress I called jade to me meet.

“hell no, not after last night, you went crazy. I love you but I need recovery time, love you y/n.”

I got crazy. It was always laughable, I never lost control of myself. Heading to oswalds I was anxious to meet the man on the phone. When I arrived the familiar sound of music and chatter filled the air, I sat at the bar ordering a apple martini. I sat for a moment when a man sat across from me putting his hand on my thigh. Looking over at him, he had bright orange hair and a wicked smile.

“hey there puddin.”

“hey”

‘still no memory?“

’'none.”

“well TAKE 2!”

He yelled while clapping his hands like a director, causing me to giggle.  

“well first things first, see  the man over there in the chiffon skirt?”

“yea the weirdo, what about him?”

“hes gonna bet you I can out drink you”

“bull shit.”

The man in the skirt walked over, he was definitely crazy but I’m kinda having fun.

“she take your bet Bert.”

“whats the bet?”

“if I can out drink you, you have to wear these all night.”

He pulled out a pair of 9 inch black stilettos from his bag.

“and if I win?”

“ I will just tell you what happened.”

“deal”

We ordered a round of 6 tequila shot each, the bartender shaking his head at me, clearly telling me I lost this battle before. Shot for shot we went, after round 2 I started to feel messed up.

“ANOTHER ROUND!”

“No more”

He looked at me smiling.

“I win?”

“yes.”

'good, not lets have some fun, names Jerome princess.“

’'nice name , mines.”

“I already know yours but tonight your whatever I want.”

He ordered 2 shots each and I took them down harshly. Out of nowhere Jerome leans over to me.

“that man in the booth over there , go sit on his lap.”

'why’’

“to start  a riot.”

With way to much alcohol In me I walked over sitting on the man’s lap, the man responding like any drunk pervert immediately started rubbing his dick on my ass through his clothes. Suddenly Jerome came over swooping me up he punched the man In the face.

“what the fuck you doing with my girl man!”

The man swung on Jerome, which caused insane laughter from Jerome as he beat him to the ground.

“lets go baby.”

He grabbed my hand as we ran away from Oswald’s, laughing the whole time. Hiding behind a corner Jerome stood in front of me his face just inches from mine. His hand traveled down to my hip pushing me against the cold brick wall. His lips made contact with my neck biting down causing a small whimper to come from my mouth. One of his hands snaked it way down to my crouch when he started rubbing his hang over my panties under my dress. His touch made me so wet as he bit and rubbed in the same rhythm.

“please don’t stop!.”

“the nights just begun baby.”

Taking his hand away my legs shaking, I slid down the wall, Jerome squatted down in front of me.

“we need some fun things.”

Jerome stole the nearest car and we drove to the nearest shady ally we could find. Jerome told me to stay in the car while he did something. While I waited I could feel my pussy craving him to just fuck me now. Thoughts of him just taking me filled my mind when the car door slammed shut. Jerome held up a small baggie of cocaine.

“really?”

“it’s a hell of a feeling thou.”

“I don’t know.”

“ you did last night, and I won the bet.”  

“okay”

We drove to the docks, where Jerome set up our lines and we snorted them really quickly. Feeling the sensation go through my body.  feeling like I could take over the world. Jerome drove us to the nearest grocery store.

“lets raise some hell.”

He handed me a black ski mask while he put one on to. Grabbing to bats, Jerome through me one while he used his to bash jars of pickles everywhere. Grabbing my bat I could feel my energy surging through my as I cracked open fruit and other things. Hearing people scream and Jerome take control was such a rush. Jerome hastily walked over to me grabbing me by the hips and lifting me onto a register. 

His lips crashing into mine, his tongue darting into my mouth while his hands gripped my hips roughly. When he needed air he let our kiss break only to reconnect to my neck to bite hard causing a big purple bruise and a loud moan escape from my mouth. Decided he wasn’t the only one who can have fun too, I pushed him back grabbing his hand and running out of the store stealing a pack of camels, a smoke alarm some champagne and a shopping cart.  

We rode through the streets howling into the nights, popping champagne and drinking it down. Feeling the bubbles lift me up, suddenly the cart stopped. Jerome pointed to the gas station, running over we paid for gasoline drenching the shopping cart and filling a stole gas we ran to the nearest field and set the cart, the smoke alarm on fire. Dancing in the light of the flames Jerome grabbed my hips bring me to his chest.

“we’re going to my house now!.”

He stole the nearest car, driving to his house, it was the apartment I was at this morning. Jerome slammed the door shut  coming at me a look of chaos on his face. Picking me up he slammed me against the wall, biting my neck. Lifting me higher and higher, Jerome threw me onto his bed, ripping my dress off so I was in my panties and heels.

“take them off now!”

Sliding my panties off, I handed them to him, he put them in his pocket.  reaching for the heels, he caught my hand.

“ I said all night.”

Jerome stripped of his clothing, standing over me, his hard dick tapping on my pussy as he teased and snickers at my begging whimpers. He dropped to his knees, kissing and biting my thighs as he looked up at me while his devil eyes.

“you don’t remember, how I made you scream , beg  and cum last night.”

“nooo.”

Arching my back, my pussy needing some kind of friction. I hear him laugh.

“want me to remind you?”

“yes daddy.”

He drove his tongue into my pussy, sucking on my clit while he put two digits in my begging pussy. Pumping his fingers roughly as his tongue worked magic on me.

“fuck yesssss, oh god daddy!”

I could feel myself cumming around his fingers.

“im coming daddy.”

Cumming around his fingers. He lifted his face up, my juices still dripping from his chin, leaning up I brought his face to mine, kissing him deeply, sliding my tongue into his mouth I sucked on his tongue while my  hands jerked his cock. Sliding off the bed, I got on my knee, taking his hard dick into my mouth, his hands running through my hair, as he began to mouth fuck me harshly.

“fuck, yeah. You like that my little slut.”

He pulled my head off his dick so I could answer.

“yes daddy, I love it when you fuck my mouth.”

“then your gonna love this.”  

Throwing me onto the bed face first, he drove  his hard dick straight into my pussy, his pace was harsh and rough causing me to jolt forward with every thrust. One of his hands went under my leg, his fingers playing with my clit while the other pulled my hair. His dick hitting all the right spots, I couldn’t help my scream his name while his fingers played with my pussy.

“fuck yes!!.”

'say my name!!’

“fuck me daddy!!!”

He pulled his dick out, flipping me onto my back, thrusting it back in, with every thrust, I could feel myself getting closer to cumming. Jerome’s hand suddenly on my throat , he started to squeeze his fingers causing my breathing to get harsh. My orgasm came to a brink when he let me go and thrusted faster.

“cum for me baby girl!”

I screamed his name as I came around his hard cock, still thrusting into me.  

“good girl, flip over again.”

Getting onto my hands and knees, he took his dick rubbing my cum all over the head , I felt his rub his dick against my ass, my body reacted wanting me to let him ravish me now.

“please daddy, fuck my ass.”

Without pause Jerome spit on his dick, sticking it into me slowly. My moan filling the room and his dick started to thrust harder and harder into me. Jerome now moaning and grunting, took his fingers and began to play with my pussy.

“god, your ass is so tight. You like this baby doll, when I fuck you like a whore.”

“yes daddy , please .”

“last night you were just like this, calling me daddy, begging me to cum on your pretty little face.”

He thrust began to become quicker and out of rhythm, feeling myself reach another orgasm. Jerome shoved his finger into my pussy forcing my orgasm to come. My face fell into the bed as I screamed out Jerome and cum started to drip from my legs. Jerome pulled out pulling me to my knees.

“suck my cock, clean it.”

Taking his dick coated in my cum into my mouth I ran my tongue along his shaft making sure to get every drop.

“that’s right baby, clean it, your gonna swallow my cum tonight.”

I began to suck on his dick, I wanted his cum, I wanted to make his moan and want more of me. Feeling his cock twitch in my mouth Jerome grabbed my head shoving me up and down when he finally came filling my mouth with his liquid.

“open, let me see.”

Opening my mouth, I showed him the pool of cum in my mouth.

“good girl, swallow it.”

Swalloing his cum in one gulp and re opening my mouth to show that it was gone. Jerome pulled me onto his bed. Pulling out the camel cigarettes he lit one handing it to me.

“damn baby, round two was even better.”

“maybe a round three is in your future.”

“I hate fortune tellers, liar all of them.”

“sorry.”

He pulled me to his chest. His heartbeat sounded slow. It felt right laying here, even if I didn’t really know him. Falling asleep, I kept hearing Jerome’s voice, screaming my name. Waking up the next morning I was wrapped in bed sheets and a rose was placed next to my head. Hearing the shower turn off Jerome came out. Naked steam still coming off his body.

“morning puddin.”

“morning baby.”

Walking over to him snatching his towel away, ran to the other side of his kitchen table.

“I have things to do today for the man who set me free y/n , give me my towel.”

“no”

A evil smirked spread across his face.

“give daddy his towel.”

He ran over grabbing me and pinning me over onto the table.

“bad, bad , bad.”

Each time he spoke that word his hand smacked down on my ass leaving a red hand print. Without warning he plunged his dick into my pussy fucking me hard. Rocking the table all while pulling my hair and smacking my ass.

“the fuck you doing? Saying no to me!”

“im sorry daddy”

“ I think you wanted this.”

He picked his speed up fucking me harder. I could feel my orgasm getting closer with every smack on my ass. My orgasm flooding over me, I screamed out in pleasure, when I felt his dick twitch and Jerome let out a small animal like growl.

Pulling out , I flipped over kissing him passionately.

“great now im late .”

Kissing me one more time before Jerome went out.

“be ready when I get home, I want dinner and a show.”