⚬ warnings⇁public sex, slight voyeurism/exhibitionism, dirty talk, dom!junghope, demeaning names during sex if you aren’t into that, jealousy
⚬ word count⇁5.5k
You’re not supposed to fall for Jung Hoseok and his repertoire of awful pick-up lines—but you do. The problem is: he’s afraid of commitment, and bolts at the idea of settling down. After that, you decide to stay far away from fuckboys, but his friend decides to test your new found resolutions.
↳ or : Jungkook wants to see how far he can push Hoseok until he snaps
Hello Loves!!! OMG it’s been too long! Is everyone still breathing? You okay? I know I was completely shook after all the videos from last night. But here we are. And with a request fulfilled! Sorry for my super long absence! Midterms have been kicking my butt. This little story kind of got away from me but I hope you like it. As always, my masterlist is linked in my bio and requests are still open. (even thought they may take me a bit to fulfill!) I love you all!! XR
“Harry Styles and Y/N getting cozy at The Grammy’s After Party? Is love in the air?”
Summary: You finally get the courage to yell at the noisy neighbor upstairs and begin to realize that maybe you should’ve gone up sooner.
a/n: pls be kind first smutty thing I’ve written in A WHILE, idk if it’s any good I’ve literally re-read it like 15 times before posting. Enjoy! Hopefully more of my writing is on the way!!!
“Are you fucking kidding me!” You yelled in exasperation. The floorboards above you creaked and thumped as your neighbor pounded on their floor.
It was currently 11:30 and you were trying so hard to get your presentation done for tomorrow’s class. You grabbed the broomstick that was becoming less for sweeping and more for hitting on your ceiling in shallow attempts at getting the ruckus to quiet down.
Bellamy was pounding into you at such a hard pace that you couldn’t even think straight. Nails scratching down backs, heavy moans and groans being the only human noises. The rook reeked of sex and before you could even think about what you were saying, the words slipped between your lips.
“Oh daddy please don’t stop.” Bellamy ceased his thrusts as he stared down at you. Your eyes widened as he looked at you with a slow spreading evil grin.
“Daddy huh? He smirked as he snapped his hips forward. You let a needy moan out as you stared up at him with pleading eyes.
“I like that…beg for daddy won’t you princess?” He said as he continued to thrust harshly into you.
John secretly had a daddy kink and you knew it. He loved to spank and you knew that he loved to be in charge. You decided tonight was the night to confront him. You spent the whole day teasing him with brushes against his crotch and low cut shirts. You were bent over in front of him and he finally snapped. Grabbing your butt causing you to straighten up.
“Princess we need to talk.” He growled. You giggled and turned to face him.
“Do we ever…daddy.” You whispered as you murmured hotly in his ear. He grabbed your ass with a low groan.
“Don’t start something you can’t finish.”
“Just try to keep up daddy.” You winked as you strutted away from him leaving him hot on your heels.
Jasper wasn’t prepared at all the moment the word tumbled from your lips. You both stopped as it sunk in what happened. You looked at Jasper with a blush spread across your cheeks in embarrassment.
“Say it again…please.”
“Daddy…” And with that he was pounding into you. Your nails raked down his back as he slowed down long enough for you to put your legs over his shoulders causing him to get a deeper angle.
“Oh yeah baby girl…cum for daddy.”
Monty had been wanting to have a night where the both of you could try out kinks. You both made a list and at the top of his you read ‘Daddy Kink’. You smirked as you looked at him.
“You want me to call you daddy?” He squirmed. You giggled as you crawled on top of him. “Don’t you like that daddy?” You asked innocently. He grabbed your face with a growl as you almost gasped.
“You better be ready princess…daddy doesn’t plan on stopping.”
The sun rays peaked in through the white curtains in your bedroom. It created a shadow on your sleeping boyfriend’s sun kissed skin.
You studied his features and the little things he did as he slept. His long lashes rested perfectly on the apple of his cheeks. His lips were slightly a-jar showing off a few of his pearly white teeth. His nose would twitch every once in a while and he would shuffle his legs around in search for yours. Once he felt you were still next to him he would stop and wrap his arm around you. You loved having his arms around you.
It made you feel safe and protected from everything happening around you. He would always sleep shirtless but the scent of his cologne would always linger on his skin.
Everyday you wondered how you got to be the lucky one to call him your boyfriend. He was your definition of perfect. Yes, he had his flaws but who didn’t?
His flaws are what make him perfect. You could go on and on about all the things you love about Grayson.
You love his little mole on his chin that was just above a small scar on his chin. You love his deep laugh and his voice that made him sound a bit congested. You love how protective he is of his siblings and how close of a bond he had with his family. You love how he can’t lie to you because he always giggles or can’t look you in the eye. You love how much passion he has for his job. You love his creative mind. You love how he can be a goof ball and be serious when he has to be. You love his mature he’s gotten in the three years that you’ve known him (out of the three you had been dating for two). You love how he knows you so well. You love that he never tries to be someone he isn’t.
“What are you thinking about?” A groggy voice asked you pulling you out of your trance.
“I’m thinking about how lucky I am to have you in my life and about all the things I love about you,” you smiled while lifting a hand to lightly trace his jawline.
You giggled as he shivered under your touch. You loved having that type of effect on him.
“What do you love about me?” He asked as he kept his eyes closed making you pout. You wanted to see his beautiful eyes, so you decided to get up and straddle his hips.
Just as you predicted Grayson’s eyes shot open as he looked up at you now on top of him with just his low v-neck t-shirt on.
“Well Mr. Dolan I love many things about you. I love your soft fluffy hair, your beautiful eyes, your soft lips, your little mole, and the scar right below it,” you whispered as you softly traced his face before pressing a kiss to the side of his face.
Summary: James Barnes is the strongest and youngest Laird in Scotland. He’s starting to learn his family’s trade but he can’t seem to focus with only one thing on his mind, the cute healer that’s his mother’s apprentice, you.
The word lair is a designation afforded the owner of a large estate in Scotland, it is the Scottish word for lord, but holds no nobility or power.
I also have zero knowledge on Scottish Lairship. I’m using the information I looked up on google and my imagination, please be gentle if stuff if inaccurate.
Mo ghràdh: scottish gaelic for my love.
Word Count: 2.3k+
Warnings: swearing, lil bit of angst, lil bit of fluff, brief mentions of smut & sexy times but nothing explicit.
This was bad, very, very, very bad.
I had fallen head over heels in love with the head Lairs’ son, Lair James Barnes. I know that they technically hold no power because they don’t have noble blood coursing through their veins, but they owned nearly of the land in the Highlands, even though Queen Mary controlled the entire nation. They had money and unintentional power, and that’s dangerous. I’m just a simple girl that’s learning how to become a healer. I had no intention of falling in love with him. It just… happened.
So I wrote about three different angsty scenarios for this prompt but then I thought - you know what, these boys have had enough hardships in their life - so this is a quick little drabble put together roughly at work today.
Andrew Minyard wasn’t Neil’s first kiss. But he was the first kiss that mattered; the first kiss that stole Neil’s breath; the first kiss Neil would risk his own safety for.
Andrew Minyard kissed like he punched - fierce, passionate, precise, powerful, hard. It was split knuckles and bitten lips, bruised skin and hungry mouths.
Andrew Minyard was a full-body kisser. Kisses were a choreographed overload of tongue, teeth and lips; fingers and hands pressing promises into scarred flesh; knees and thighs holding the weight of uttered yes’s and no’s.
Andrew Minyard tasted of cigarettes and chocolate. The bite of nicotine echoed in teeth grazing lips, soothed by a balm of sweet cocoa and wet tongue.
Tom Holland x Reader requested by @boyfriendtom 1800′s AU bc why not Words: 2,065 Disclaimer: i;m not fancy, but i love how this turned out. also, you’re british so read everything with a british accent.
there will be three parts to this so i guess it’s my first fic. enjoy!
(i didnt even put the prompt in until part two so uh stick around)
This July had been a particularly warm one. The fans your father had imported from Japan were doing a scarce job at keeping you and your younger brother cool. He wanted to spend all of his time outside, but when you were outside you felt the sting of being in a world where so much was waiting to be explored while you were merely living as a piece in the game of chess. A pawn so that your family could merge with another wealthy family and share the riches. Wealth was nothing if not the anchor to a greedy man’s heart. Your parents had already selected a man for you, and though he was fair and gentlemanly, he was not the one who had caught your eye.
Hello there:) I'm hoping that I could make it in time (and it's not open, no worries, I'll going to ask in other time:3) and I'm not sure if this request is already done, but... ¿Can I have some little drabbles for Soldier 76 (my bae<3), McCree, Hanzo and Reaper (separately, of course) while supporting theirs wives in labor?:') BTW, nice writing tho:3 - Greetings from México:)
(Aw, thank you! Greetings from the east coast of the US!)
“I hate you I hate you I hate you!”
The words streamed out of your lips like a prayer as another, stronger contraction hitting you in the back and side, your hand squeezing Jack’s until it turned white. You pressed your head back into the pillow of your hospital bed, toes curling and relaxing as you waited for this one to end. Jack’s other hand still continued to brush through your hair with his fingers, murmuring soft words of encouragement to you.
“You’re doing great beautiful”, he breathed softly, maintaining his composure as you crushed his hand. You had to admit, a part of you needed his calming presence here, to pull you out of your mind and the anxiousness that kept bubbling up. The other part of you, however, wanted to punch him for knocking you up and trying to act like he understood what you were going through. “Breathe, babe. You have to breathe.”
Your eyes peeped open, glaring at your husband bitterly, only receiving that trademarked relaxed smile of his. Opting to listen, rather than curse him out you took in several shuddering breaths, body going lax as your contractions started to subside.
“Good job”, Jack murmured, pressing several affectionate kisses to your temples, his blue eyes filled with love and affection. “You look so beautiful.”
Despite yourself and the fact that you had been married for years and were literally about to give birth to his child, your face burned in a blush. His words poured over you like sweet ambrosia, coaxing the stress and agitation from your mind. A small smile tugged at your lips as you looked up at him.
“Well then”, you started softly, staring him down playfully, his smile growing a bit more. “Your beautiful wife would like some ice chips please.”
“I can’t do this, Jess. I can’t.”
You were slightly bent over, standing with your arms wrapped tight around Jesse’s waist with your face pressed into his shirt. If you weren’t in so much pain, you would appreciate the fact that he smelt so good; sweet yet smokey like his cigars without all the smoke. You shifted one foot to the next, your contraction waning off as tears rolled down your cheeks.
You were absolutely exhausted, eight hours of active labor and increasing contractions stealing every ounce of energy you had. The only reason you were standing is because it was the only thing that didn’t make you feel like your spine was trying to escape your body. Jesse’s hand smoothed down your back, moving in slow, methodical circles to ease a bit of the pain you were feeling away.
“Darlin”, he drawled softly, his voice soft and sweet, a quiet comfort to accompany his soothing massage. “I know you’re hurtin’ something awful, sweetpea. If I could, I’d’ve taken all that pain away…but I know you got this, sugar. ‘Nother one starting? Ah breathe in darlin, like we practiced…there ya go.”
You whined, shaking your head against his shirt as another contraction started, your hold on him tightening up again. He had been acutely observant the entire time, picking up on each of your contractions as they began and walking you through them until they ended, something you were beyond thankful for. He talked you through your breathing, keeping his voice even and soft, your cowboy’s gentleness helping to ease some of that stress away.
“Make them go away…please.”
Your face was pressed into Hanzo’s chest, bouncing half-heartedly on the exercise ball you had requested. Hanzo sat higher than you, his arms loosely wrapped around your middle, as your hands clung to his shirt. He had his chin pressed to the top of your head, his hands moving in small circles on your sides, your head tilting from side to side as you breathed heavily through the pain. This is one of the moments you absolutely adored the fact that he was a quieter man, his strong, stoic presence grounding you without the need for words. Sadly, the nurses had not understood your need for silence.
You could hear the sound of nurses moving about the room, shifting things and preparing for the actual delivery. They weren’t speaking loudly, but they were loud enough for it to grate at your thinning nerves. Your hands curled and uncurled around the fabric of his shirt, a low whine hissing from your lips before you tilted your face up to look at your husband. You could see in his dark eyes that he was nervous, but he wouldn’t allow it to show on his face, especially when he knew you were relying on him.
“Beloved”, he said softly, brushing his hand over your face, your exhausted eyes shutting for a pregnant moment before opening up again. “If that is what you want, I will do that for you….but might it be best to wait until after the delivery?”
You groaned, a part of you hating his logical side but understanding why he said it. Rocking back and forth on the ball you sighed again before nodding your head to indicate that he was right. Hanzo placed another soft kiss on the top of your head, humming softly against your hair.
“Gabriel Alejandro Reyes for the love of god, stop phasing!”
You were kneeling on the padded floor, your arms wrapped tight around the large red birthing ball, trying not to bite your well-intentioned husband head off. Gabriel’s hand were massaging at your lower back and ass to coax away the pain there, at least when his touch was solid. He’d massage in solid circles, pressing the heel of his palm hard into the aching muscle until his touch would suddenly phase to nothing. It would throw you off, just as you began to go into a slight trance, it would stop.
You knew he couldn’t help it, his phasing while mostly controllable, reacted to his emotions. He was excited but worried, fiercely protective and anxious. He absolutely hated hospitals, they brought back nothing but negative memories and the fact his wife and arriving child had to be here…you sighed, squeezing the ball again and pressing your face into the rubber. Another contraction began to start, your breath hitching for a moment before you released a harsh exhale.
“Lo siento mi reina”, Gabriel apologized honestly, pressing a kiss between your shoulder blades and then another to the back of your neck.
You murred low in your throat at his cool kiss on your heated skin, one of your hands flying back and grabbing at his shirt, pulling so he fell against your back. Gabriel chuckled lowly, adjusting himself so you and the ball were between his legs, his chest pressed carefully into your back. You sighed in satisfaction as the cool of his body bled into your overly heated skin, turning into Gabe’s touch as his hand stroked your cheek.
“‘Sokay”, you murmured softly, content as Gabriel’s cool hand stroked your damp forehead and cheek tenderly. “Just don’t move…”
Julian runs his fingers along the inside of the magician’s wrist, slowly, drawing loose circular patterns over their veins and thoroughly distracting them from the new spellbooks they’re checking over for the shop. He’s pressed against their back, his head lolling into the crook of their neck as they lean over the counter, brushing soft kisses against the skin of their shoulder up to their pulse.
It’s absolutely maddening.
“Julian,” they try, for the millionth time. “Cut it out.”
“Mm?” he hums, other hand skimming along their waist. “Whatever do you mean, darling?”
“You know what,” they scold. “I’m trying to read.”
“So am I!” he defends, and they half-turn to squint at him. He puts on as innocent an expression as he’s capable of, and the magician sighs.
“Just - stop with the touching,” they say. “It’s distracting.”
“The touching?” he asks, with the same, feigned innocence. The magician narrows their eyes again, flicking their gaze pointedly to where his hand is sneaking underneath their shirt. He follows their gaze, and makes a show of comprehending their meaning. “Ohh. I see. So none of…this, then?”
He runs his hand up their forearm, long fingers barely brushing over the skin, sending soft tingles in their wake. The magician snatches their arm back, and he has to bite back a chuckle, withdrawing his wandering hands - for now.
“Yes,” they say. He raises an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. “No. I mean - you know what I mean! Don’t do that! I have work to do. Don’t you have medicines to stack, or something?”
“I’m afraid not,” he says, grinning broadly, and rather too unapologetically for their taste. He gestures vaguely with both hands, giving them a full display of his low-cut shirt. “I’m all yours.”
Their knees weaken, and they sit firmly on the stool, glowering at him.
“Quit it, or I’ll bite,” they snap, red-faced and furious, and Julian leans forward, voice dipping into something they do not have time to react to right now.
They let out a quiet scream of frustration, picking up the nearest thing - some of the packing paper, sadly enough - and launching it at his head. Julian merely laughs, putting his hands up and retreating behind the curtain into the back, with rather too much sway in his hips, in the magician’s opinion.
They last ten minutes before they give in, and follow him out.
Pairing: Yoongi x Reader Genre: Fluff Word Count: 7318 Description: In which Yoongi’s a tattoo artist and you’re a rebel against society. Author’s Note: WOW IM NOT DEAD ISNT THAT AMAZING IM BACK AFTER 10 MILLION YEARs
The characters on your wrist are so black they can’t be covered. It is not the same black as ink, or the same black as onyx, but a black that seems altogether blacker than black, deeper and darker than the darkest color on earth.
And you hated them.
Every human was born with the same black smeared on the inside of their wrist in the form of neat, different characters that built names. Most commonly, there was only one name, on the inside of the dominant hand, but it was not unusual for people to have two names, either (though this in no way meant they were ambidextrous).
The wrists, the black, the names — soulmates. Each person had their soulmate’s name engraved on their wrist. Nobody hurried to find love anymore, because love would surely find them. They would find their ‘One’, fall in love and be happy, propose or get proposed to and be happy, and then get married, most likely have children, grow old together, and be happy.
You respected that Joe needed a lads’ holiday, you really did. You were excited for him to go to South Africa with Caspar, Josh, and Oli and come back with a million stories to tell. It was just that his absence was seriously frustrating you. You were never one to be able to get off just by reading something or watching porn. You needed Joe to be there.
Finally one night, you couldn’t handle it anymore. You had seen enough pictures of him shirtless and wet poolside in Knysna. You had to do something, and you needed him to help you through it. “Hello, love,” Joe said as soon as he picked up. “How’re you doing?”
“Are you alone?” you asked, your voice quiet.
“I’m in my room, yeah,” he said back. “What’s going on?”
“Go lock your door,” you breathed out, relieved that he was there. “I need you.”
“Fuck,” Joe breathed out. You could hear him get off the bed and walk over to his door. “You don’t have to tell me twice.”
“Tell me what to do,” you told him. “You know I can’t do this without you.”
“What are you wearing, babe?” Joe asked. You heard his belt buckle clanking.
“Your MTV shirt,” you said, laying down on the bed and tugging at the hem of your favorite shirt of Joe’s.
“That black lace pantie and bra set that you love,” you said, earning a groan from Joe’s end of the line.
“Take off the shirt,” he said, his voice low. “The shirt and the bra. Take them both off but leave the panties on.” You did as he said, your core pulsing. “Are they off?” he asked.
“Yes,” you said.
“Good. Now, just focus on those beautiful tits of yours,” he said. “Roll your nipples between your fingers, just like I do.” You let out content hums and occasional gasps at the feeling of your hands massaging your chest. “Go down to your panties, baby,” Joe said. “Rub yourself through your panties. Just through your panties, don’t you dare take them off yet.”
“Mmm,” you moaned out.
“How wet are you?”
“So wet, Joe,” you said. “Please, I need-”
“No,” he almost growled. “You do what I say, how and when I say it.” You let out a sound that was somewhat of an agreement, just so Joe would keep going. “Now take them off,” he said. You discarded them quickly. “One finger in babe.” You let out a moan and slid a finger into your soaking core. “How does it feel babe?”
“So good,” you said. “But nothing like you.”
“What do you want?” he asked. You could hear his skin slapping on the other end of the line. “Use your words, tell me what you want.”
“I want another finger, Joe,” you said. “Please, can I add another finger?”
“Baby, I want you to add two fingers,” Joe groaned. “Add two fingers and tell me how good it feels.”
You now had your ring finger, middle finger, and pointer finger all inside you, pumping in and out quickly. “Joe,” you moaned, arching your back off the bed. “It feels so good Joe.”
“How close are you princess?” he asked, his voice almost coming out like a growl.
“Close,” you breathed out.
“Good,” he said. You could almost hear the smirk in his voice. “Now use your thumb from your other hand and rub your clit. Make sure you keep pumping those fingers baby.”
“Joe,” you nearly screamed out. “I’m gonna cum Joe.”
“Cum for me baby,” Joe said. “Scream my name. I need to hear you say it.”
Your toes curls as you reached your high, calling out Joe’s name like he told you to. “Yes baby,” Joe said. He let out a loud moan. “Talk to me,” he said. “I’m so close.”
“Oh Joe,” you said. “Imagine it’s me. Imagine my pretty little mouth sucking you off.” Only a few more seconds and Joe groaned out your name, and you knew he finished. You were both breathing heavily and you smiled, picking up your phone from where you laid it on the pillow beside your head.
“That was great,” you breathed out. “Fuck, thank you.”
“I’m glad you called,” Joe said back. “I’ve needed that.”
“I miss you,” you said. “The flat’s quite lonely without you.”
Joe laughed, “I’ll be back soon.”
“Yeah, I know,” you said with a smile. You spent the rest of the night talking to Joe over the phone until you fell asleep.
A/N: Much hype!!! I introduce to you guys the very first installment of the Thinkin’ Bout Boys collaboration project from the admins at @smols-n-tols which I’m proud to be working with! (I’m admin Minhyun over there fyi if anyone was interested lmao) I hope you guys enjoy the content all the admins will be putting out!!!
START: Kim Taemin
Boys, boys, boys. Those three words fluttered through your mind as you wandered through the crowded living room. The bass reverberated through the floor, and the scent of sweat and something a little more risque floated through the air. It was your friend’s birthday, but you had quickly lost her as you went on a search for the perfect boy for the perfect party hook-up. “Y/N, there you are!” your friend called from behind you, “I thought I lost you for a second.” You turned around to see Donghyuk bobbing through the crowd. “Dude, you have to be my teammate for beer pong!” he exclaimed, already dragging you towards the table. “Donghyuk, I’m not going to be your partner because you absolutely suck at-” your voice cut off when your eyes caught sight of the man standing across the table. “Y/N, I’m against my brother right now, so I’m gonna need all the help I can get,” Donghyuk pleaded, clasping his hands tightly together. The man walked over to your side, he sent you a small smirk before directing his attention on your friend, “C’mon, little brother, ready to lose?”
Your eyes widened in shock. Kim Taemin? This was Kim Taemin? The weird older brother that shrieked every time he saw a bug? You eyed him up and down, doubting your own eyes. Granted, you haven’t seen him since you were twelve years old before he went off to boarding school. Puberty sure hit him like a goddamn fire truck. A glint crossed your eyes as you looked up at Taemin, a smirk also gracing your face, “I don’t think Donghyuk’s gonna be losing anytime soon. He’s got me.” Taemin only quirked his eyebrow at you, “Oh really now, Y/N? Didn’t think my brother would go find a partner so quickly.” Donghyuk, oblivious to whatever was happening piped in, “Hyung, you offered me a handicap,” he motioned to you, “they’re my handicap.”
A game and a half of beer pong later, you found yourself in the downstairs closet; back pressed against the wall as someone trails open mouthed kisses down your neck. Your hands had a firm grasp in their hair, and you let out an embarrassingly loud moan when he kissed a certain spot on your neck. “Hm, didn’t know you could make those sounds,” he said, pulling away from your neck to flash you a shit-eating grin. You pulled him back down towards you, slamming your lips together. Speaking against his lips, you said, “Shut it, Taemin, or I’ll leave you here without any sense of satisfaction.” His hands gripped at your waist as he pushed his body closer to yours. A gasp came to the back of your throat when his hands slipped under your shirt. He pulled away from you suddenly, taking your face in his hands, marvelling at his handiwork. You panted softly but stilled once his thumb ran over your bruised lips. “By the look of it, babe, I don’t think you’re gonna follow through with your threat,” he lightly taunted, ducking his head down to return his attention to your neck.
You tried to find some sort of coherent reply to his taunt but came up with nothing. You resorted to slipping your hands downwards to grip onto the back of his shirt. A low moan came from your lips again when Taemin sucked at that one spot. “Kitten’s got your tongue?” he said as he pulled away from you once again. In the beat of silence that came between the two of you, he let his guard down. Instantly, you pushed him against the opposite wall, pinning him against it with your body. He could only look down at you in shock. “What’s wrong, babe? Kitten’s got your tongue?” you purred up at him, pressing a kiss at the junction between his neck and shoulder. Taemin smirked down at you, gripping your hips to twirl you around, pushing you up against the wall again. “Don’t mess with what you can’t handle, Y/N,” he whispered against your ear. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down until his nose barely grazed yours, “Who said I can’t handle it?”
The air was chilly, nipping at the exposed skin of your legs. You passed by boutiques and cafes on your way home, until you paused in front of one cafe. The sound of someone singing could be heard softly through the door. Peering in, you could see a boy sitting on the small stage, strumming the guitar and singing. Suddenly your phone buzzed; you opened it to find a text about another party on the other side of town.
could you please write some headcanons for an indiana jones!ben solo au? like he's his son and he's somehow even more cocky and smug and you are w e a k for it LOVE U
OH ABSOLUTELY. UTTERLY.
benjamin henry jones is more his father’s son than he cares to admit. henry jones junior was a complex man; part overbearing father, part absentee, part best friend, part worst enemy. his father taught him to be both a free spirit and a conformist, to value knowledge and to kick ass.
but as he grew, ben grew away from his father, ultimately pursuing his own career as a for-pay excavator. he does dangerous jobs in uncharted territory, recovering lost artifacts and bringing them home to whoever pays the highest price. he’s suave, he’s free-wheeling, and he’s somehow even more rough and tumble than his own father was. he gets in more fights, more close shaves. his father’s daring-do runs in his veins, but ben turned the dial up to an eleven.
but as much as ben prides himself on blazing his own trail, escaping the colossal shadow cast by his legendary father, it seems that there are more ties to him in ben’s life.
like the number of artifacts he routinely recovers for the university his father used to work at.
he’s, effectively, their man on retainer. they’re a very, VERY well-funded establishment, so they can hire this wild man to run out to tibet and find them some lost scrolls, some ancient tomes.
and ben does it because it’s good money.
and because he may or may not have his eyes set on a very different treasure indeed: the literary theory professor.
she’s everything he isn’t; a homebody, quiet, reserved. but she matches his passion and intellect, and everything she does lights a fire in him. the way she plays hard-to-get, how she can quip back and forth with him, understanding all of his references, all his archaic knowledge. she’s everything.
he’ll frequently stop by her classroom and watch her teach, standing in the doorway with his low-cut shirt, dirty slacks, scuffed boots. countless students turn and stare at him, giggling and gossiping because “oh my god he IS as handsome as people say!” and “have you ever seen someone like that before?” his crush glares at him from her desk, annoyed that he’s disrupting her lesson, but he just twirls his hand, prompting her to go on silently.
“-and as i was saying,” she snaps, turning away from him to jot more notes on the board- “-the brothers karamazov is a notable novel for it’s inclusion of-”
a wave of giggles and dreamy sighs rises behind her, but she doesn’t turn. she hears footsteps, and the bell rings, cutting her point off entirely.
“remember to read chapters twenty through twenty five,” she yells over the din of feet and backpacks. “there WILL be a quiz in the coming week! so please-” but no one’s listening. they’re all filing past her, smirking at ben as he leans on her desk.
there’s an apple on her desk with a bite taken out of it, and he grins at her, eyebrows raised.
“hiya, teach,” he purrs. “you looked mighty cute teaching about russian literature.”
“and you looked mighty putrid as you ruined my class,” she hisses back, shoving her papers and dog-eared novel into her bag. “it’s not easy to schedule this kind of work, much less have someone step in and ruin my whole lesson plan!”
“aw, don’t be mad. i’m just here to learn!” his deep brown eyes almost compel her to listen, but she whirls away, getting ready to storm off to her office. ben is faster, though, and steps in front of her, leaning into the doorway. “i’d love to hear your take on the literary value of lady chatterly’s lover.”
she pretends that she doesn’t know that he’s talking about one of the most famously sexual novels in the world. she ignores him and brushes past, stepping into the hallway as ben quickly uses his long legs to outstrip her own pace.
-stupid heels make her walk slow, stupid hallways so tight and confining, bringing him close enough that she can hear him breathing, feel his warm skin close by, smell his aftershave-
“you know, you still owe me one.” she glowers at him, seeing his smug smile.
“one what, jones? i hardly recall owing you anything.”
“you do. i got that first edition of a christmas carol for you! and now you owe me something in return.”
“first,” she snarls, “i didn’t ask you for that book. it was very nice of you to give it to me, yes, but i thanked you and that’s all i needed to do. it wasn’t obligatory, so there’s no debt to pay.”
“you don’t even know what i was going to ask for,” he chirps. “it’d be so easy. in fact, it wouldn’t put you out at all. you could pay up right here and right now and be done with it.”
“fine. what do you want?”
they still their walking as she arrives at the door to her office, and ben leans in close, one hand gravitating to the doorframe to prop his weight as his face inchestowards hers. his eyes skate over her face, lingering on her lips, and he smiles, beautifully crooked teeth on display.
“one, single, itty bitty kiss,” he croons. “just one. though you might find that just one will make you want just one more, and another, and-”
“if i kiss you, will you shut up and leave me alone?”
“if it’s what you really, truly want,” ben replies with a shrug. “but it won’t be what you want.”
her heart is racing. she has to admit, the thought of his full lips against hers, his hand on her cheek, his big nose rubbing hers softly- oh, but what is she thining. she sets her brow and stops her hands from shaking, then closes her eyes, screwing them up tight.
“get it over with,” she says, as if waiting for him to punch her instead of kiss her. “but just one, three seconds long at maximum, and no tongue.”
“tut, tut. such a taskmaster. but i am at your disposal,” he hums, and before she knows what’s happening, a big hand is under her chin, and he’s tantalizingly close, so near that his breath is upon her skin.
“if you really don’t want me,” he whispers shyly, “all you have to do is say ‘no’. i won’t make you do this. i will never make you go through something you don’t want.”
“just kiss me, jones.”
and he does. he presses his lips to hers and she is so- so- so glowing. her skin is on fire and her head bursts with colors and it’s only three seconds, just as she asked, but suddenly she wishes she had been more generous.
ben pulls back, suddenly more shy and boyish-looking than she’s ever seen him, and he sheepishly looks down, his whole face flushed red, even to the tips of his big ears.
“sorry, i- i shouldn’t tease you to get that from you.”
he looks up. she never calls him that.
“come into my office. i think you were right.”
her hand tangles with his, and his chest stirs, his heartbeat racing.
“i think that just one wasn’t enough.”
and his eyes are glittering, golden, warmed and alive, and oh, how he smiles. he smiles like it’s christmas, and he just found the big, shiny, bright red bike under the tree.
“yes, ma’am,” he breathes, following her as she tugs his hand and guides him into her arms.
Best at sarcastic comments, have tried (and failed) before to polyjuice into each other and play for each other’s quidditch team, for some reason no one realises they’re dating for the longest time because of stereotypes. On more than one occasion have they worn each others robes ad tried to get into as much trouble as possible, in an attempt to lose them house points. Dates include; visiting the shrieking shack on a dare, broomstick races at midnight, who can mess with filch the most, pick nicks in the field where most of their time is spent judging other couples. The hickeys given to the Gryffindor are art, and he likes wearing his most low-cut shirts with pride after he gets some, whereas the Gryffindor gives hickeys in more… discreet areas, like a secret between the two. They play with each other’s hair nonstop and will always hold hands in class.
This prompt is super sad, and I used to be so good at angst but I’m not sure if this’ll justify my previous talents. I hope you all enjoy! Anything in Italics is the mother (which is also you) and in the flashback with the child birth, Mary and John are not married yet.
Requested by @foureyedsiopao: Being Sherlock Holmes daughter is one of the most tragic parts of your story. You never knew what happened to your mother but be it as it were, Mary and John Watson have adopted you as their own daughter. But every night you woke up having the same dream… A dream that includes the man who left you behind.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
“Sherlock, take a look at me and use your deduction skills. What do you see?”
Sherlock looked up from his laptop to his wife standing in the kitchen, wearing one of his dress shirts and low hanging sweat pants. Her face was clear of makeup and her fingers were wrapped around the rim of her favorite tea cup. “I see that you’re breath taking.” He said lowly, wrapping his fingers around your hips. “And you’re not drinking your normal coffee. Your clothes are baggy and low hanging-”
A soft smile spread across your face as you set your cup down on the table in the center of the room, cupping his cheek in your small hands. Hands that had memorized his body through the darkest hours of the night, hands that had held him as he cried over the uncertainty of his their future. “You’re getting warmer, Detective.” You whispered. “Lower your hands.”
Having a bit of a rough day and asking for an emergency request: Kidd, Doffy, and Corazon scenario with them having a seemingly innocent and happy s/o, but in truth has a tragic past and hides her pain behind a smile.
Sweetie, I really hope it gets better for you, and know that I’m here cheering for you because everyone has a rough day that can be solved with encouragement and lots of love. If you ever need to talk, don’t be afraid to message me! I hope you enjoy this! (Doflamingo’s was a bit yandere, like wut? Sorry for that…)
It was his usual stare, she had thought. Maybe it was lasting way longer than usual, which, in fact, was starting to bug her, but she didn’t dare to comment on it. Usually, he would get tired of this silent stare contest, get up and leave her while muttering about doing something else. She always let him be; she thought he might not understand her problems. But Kid was far more knowing than one would guess.
“Stop with that smile.” He finally grumbled, crossing his arms before his chest and leaning back. His order shocked her, the curve of her lips faltered for a second, but she kept grinning.
“I don’t understand, Kid,” she said, trying to look playfully disappointed, “I thought you liked my smi-”
“I hate when you fake your happiness.” He firmly stated, and her façade nearly faded away, but she took the last strings of her pride to stay strong; she wanted to know where he had come to guess.
“Really, what are you talking about?” Her voice trembled, and her hesitance gave Kid the hint he needed to prove his thoughts.
“You’re not okay.” He frowned, waiting for a reaction that never came. “Look, I might not be the best person to go to for comfort, but I’ve been through a lot of shit too and can tell when I face something bad in a person.”
He scoffed, but knew he was right when the muscles of her face that covered her feelings in an empty smile twitched, unwrapping her grieve into sight.
“Look, just be honest with me. Don’t come to me with something fake. I’ll try to help you get through whatever is bothering you, but I can’t promise good results.”
He wiped her tears away with a rough finger, and saw as her head moved into a nod. She mouthed her thanks, speechless, through a smile that really looked true. To him, to her. She felt like smiling again next to the man she knew was going to stand by her.
He himself did that too. Behind the smug smile hid the pain of his childhood, seemingly overcome. He knew what was going through her head, even though her face showed otherwise.
She wouldn’t tell him easily. She might not even know that he knows, but he does. And he won’t face her right away, either. If she needed comfort, comfort he would provide in his own twisted way, be it by introducing her into a life of pleasures to forget her former one, or by eliminating anyone who had dared to hurt her. He waited for her words, her confession.
But it never came.
She really did a good job hiding it day after day, smiling, singing, jumping. Nothing wrong at first sight. Doflamingo knew better. It had been nearly a year since he met her, and half of it since he started waiting for her to tell him. He kept waiting.
Until one night, she broke down.
So much pain, so much sorrow, and she could only overflow with tears as she clutched Doflamingo’s shirt for dear life. He stayed still, patting and caressing her back, her hair, her arms, at much. He said nothing, just listened to her sobs in the dark.
“It hurts so much,” he heard her hiccup, “Doffy, I can’t take it.”
“Just let it all go.” She did just as told, letting the blond embrace her as she cried into his chest. Just forget, just don’t think. For that night, she would do just that. “Don’t forget that I am here for you, darling. For anything you might need.”
The smugness of his voice would have made suspicion bubble into anyone; she wasn’t just anyone. She knew better. Doflamingo was a cruel man, he knew so much. But she also knew he wouldn’t hurt her.
He would make her forget her past, and that was everything she needed at that moment.
‘We’re going to be late,’ said Corazon’s note as he sat next to her. She was applying her make-up, doing the last touches on her hair, fixing her dress. A smile ran across her cherry red lips, she nodded, and got up, twirling so her lover could give her his opinion.
But he didn’t speak.
“Is everything okay?” She asked, concerned. The answer she got came after he had closed the ajar door to her boudoir, blinding and muting the space from prying eyes and curious ears.
“I should ask you just that,” his low voice spoke, startling her. He only really spoke by himself when they were alone, and not even that often. “Do you really want to go?”
“It’s a party in his honor. It’s the least I can do.” She smiled, but it didn’t deceive him.
“No, it isn’t. Doflamingo… you hate him, right? You don’t have to do this.” She shook her head, apparently unfazed, but he gave her no chance to speak. Instead, he came closer. “You hate living here with him around.”
“It’s not like that!” Her voice came out as a whisper. Obviously, she didn’t want anyone to hear them. Even though she knew no one could. Corazon scooted closer, and grabbed the crimson red lipstick on the dressing table. “What are you-”
She felt the tug on the skin of her cheeks as he dragged the stick up to her ears. She wanted to retreat, to scold him for ruining her make-up, but the expression on his face told her not to.
“Look at yourself,” he finished, and turned you to look into the mirror. “What do you see?”
“Honestly, I look like you,” she sighed. Corazon shook his head..
“That’s what I see in you everyday: a fake smile. I hate it. I want to see you smile truly for once. And that won’t happen if you go to that party. It won’t happen it we stay here.”
“Cora, what are you-”
“I promise…” He took her hands in his bigger ones, staring into her eyes; once he saw the black mascara she so thoroughly had put on mixed with the crystalline water of her tears, he knew he had found the gem. “I promise I won’t let you stay here. We will get away, be free. We can start a family, with Law too. What do you say?”
Her embrace felt warm as she cried into his shirt, a low string of words that he couldn’t make out. He could only think of the single “yes” that has left her mouth seconds before. He would make sure to change things for better.