i am sure someone here will tell me exactly where this was taken

Good Girls Go Bad

Set in the 40’s. Y/N was your stereotypical girl next door, growing up in the apartment right across the hall from James Buchanan Barnes. She had always been the shy, reserved girl; she was the complete opposite of the enigmatic ladies man. Despite their proximity, she was sure that he didn’t even know she existed. What happens when they run into one another during a night out on the town? Is just one night all it really takes? 

Word Count: 3,408

Warnings: swearing, smut


Originally posted by evanstansource


You sighed, adjusting your dress as you gazed into the mirror. Even though it was still rather conservative, you couldn’t help but notice that it was more revealing than you were used to. The neckline plunged rather low, the collar fastened with a bow that drew attention to your cleavage. The waist was cinched, showing off your figure. Paired with the red heels that your friends had chosen for you, you were looking like a regular bombshell. Your friends had insisted that you go out with them tonight. You had turned them down too many times. They said that now, of all days, you had to accompany them. The newest army recruits would be shipping out tomorrow, and it was sure to be a lively night.

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Slight Changes || Park Jimin

Originally posted by lonastic

Word Count: 1.9k

Genre: Angst/Fluff


“You can’t be serious Y/N, it wasn’t even my fault.” You ignored Jimin’s voice as you stormed away from him and walked into the kitchen. The only thing you wanted to do right now was get away from him, but it seemed that no matter how far you got from him he would just appear right behind you again.

“Yes, Jimin, I am serious. What would make you think otherwise?” Your tone was bitter, anger flooding through you and exiting in the form of words. There was no other way for you to release it so you just had to deal with trying your best to stay calm and not completely flip out on your boyfriend. Jimin sighed loudly before speaking again, causing you to turn around and look at him.

“She was just a fan, fan’s get close. It’s not my fault.” He argued. You rolled your eyes, feeling more anger rise at the fact that he was trying to defend himself over this. The picture had been all over twitter and it seemed that ARMY’s were going crazy over it. They had been tweeting it at you, waiting for some kind of reaction, but you held back until the moment he got home and you could confront him about it.

“It’s your fault that you didn’t try to ask her to move, and it’s your fault that you didn’t mention me, you know, your girlfriend.” You said.

“God you always get like this.” Jimin’s tone surprised you, and you couldn’t help but feel a little taken aback by his words. There wasn’t anything about it that was very different, just a slight undertone of frustration that you weren’t used to. Jimin was always calm with you, even now while you were practically yelling at you he was keeping his normal tone.

“What do you mean I always get like this?” You asked.

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Among the Crowd (Soulmate AU)

Summary: Soulmates’ worlds go from black and white to colors when they are in the same room for the first time. Bucky is a famous actor in the middle of a convention, trying to find his soulmate, you.

Word Count: 2,232

A/N: This is a re-write of a Dean W. fic and I hope you all like it :D 

Originally posted by v-writings


Bucky took a swig of water, tightening the cap on the bottle before setting it to the side. His meet-and-greet was about to start. He could hear the bustling of the crowd right outside the door and took a deep breath. Alongside him was Clint, a co-star.

“You doing okay, buddy?” asked Clint, eyes concerned as he placed a hand on Bucky’s shoulder.

Bucky smiled. “Yeah, I’m alright.”

After a few minutes, Nat Romanoff and Sam Wilson took their seats next to each other and the writer of the show, Bucky’s oldest friend, Steve Rogers, emerged from behind the black curtain that had been put up behind the actors.

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The Eternal Problem: A Meditation on Mortality in Sherlock S4

When asked about S4 during the promotional lead-up, Moftiss repeatedly said this new series would be about one thing: consequences.  Now that we stand on the other side of S4, what do we think they meant?  It obviously wasn’t legal consequences for shooting Magnussen, or physical consequences of overdosing on drugs.   

In this meta, I argue that TAB and S4 are above all about the moral, metaphysical, and narrative consequences of Sherlock faking his death during the Reichenbach Fall—an act which continues to reverberate through the story two series later, both for the characters and, significantly, for the writers.

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✧ ( SHAMELESS SENTENCE STARTERS.

warning: triggers apply. adult language, sexual themes, violence, offensive subjects, offensive behaviors. please read & reblog with caution.

❛ And what exactly does “hooked up” mean? ❜
❛ It’s like a car wreck… you can’t not watch. ❜
❛ What’s that smell? It’s either vomit or fancy cheese. ❜
❛ There is no God. We’re all gonna die. ❜
❛ The hell? You’re supposed to negotiate! ❜
❛ If you’re looking for money, I don’t have any yet.  ❜
❛ How do you feel about metal splinters to the eye? ❜
❛ Are you up-to-date on your rabies shots? ❜
❛ I don’t like that you’re getting hurt on purpose to make money. ❜
❛ You’re kidding me? You’re actually serious about this shit? ❜
❛ You’re kinda growing on me. ❜
❛ Wanna see how fast I can unhook your bra? ❜
❛ You make my life a living hell and I want you out of here now. ❜
❛ Half of the world has penises, why do people get so upset about seeing them? ❜
❛ You’re nothing but a warm mouth to me. ❜
❛ I think I’m depressed. I’ve been feeling kind of funky lately. ❜
❛ I never said it was yours. You just wanted it to be. ❜
❛ Wouldn’t be the first time somebody’s disappointed me. ❜
❛ I don’t mean to be an asshole. It’s just… genetic. ❜
❛ Fuck you is what you were invited to. ❜
❛ I can’t even begin to imagine what kind of pussy you’d be in juvie. ❜
❛ I want normal people problems. Like, am I getting enough fiber? ❜
❛ Hey, I think I just insulted myself. ❜
❛ Hey! What the fuck man! He’s/she’s dead! ❜
❛ Oh, could you be a little more vague? ❜
❛ You came all the way down here to talk about my pubes? ❜
❛ How the fuck do you not have a gun? ❜
❛ Sure you’re ready to pop your armed robbery cherry? ❜
❛ You should have seen your face. ❜
❛ You don’t know who you messed with, bitch. ❜
❛ You fuck with the bull, you get an ass full of horns! ❜
❛ I’m not used to having people yell at me all day long. ❜
❛ I have this friend. I think you two might really hit it off. ❜
❛ I’ve seen you put out after the first drink. ❜
❛ You know, I’d hug you but neither of us would like that. ❜
❛ I don’t get why just don’t use her/his face for target practice. ❜
❛ I want a fucking lawyer motherfucker! ❜
❛ You’re covering your own ass and you know it. ❜
❛ You know I used a condom. ❜
❛ Do you know where I can buy a gun? ❜
❛ You think you scare me? Bring it, bitch! ❜
❛ I’m starting to get fucking homicidal. ❜
❛ I will make this kitchen my bitch. ❜
❛ They’re having a party for kids across the street. No booze. ❜
❛ A shrink at school says I’m one of God’s mistakes. ❜
❛ I believe the answer to that question, like the answer to most questions, is fuck you! ❜
❛ Did the two of us finish an entire gallon of box wine the other night? ❜
❛ I can’t handle anything up my ass without alcohol! ❜
❛ I’d be crying right now if I wasn’t so high. ❜
❛ I’m not my dad. You hear me? I’m not my fucking dad! ❜
❛ I would never do half the shit that you’ve done to us. Why are you even here? ❜
❛ Even the homeless get better stuff than us. ❜
❛ I am just as likely as anyone of this family to make something of myself. ❜
❛ You want to get shit faced in the middle of the day.  ❜
❛ You have no money yet you’re going into a grocery store. Interesting. ❜
❛ Let’s go get drunk and buy a gun. ❜
❛ It’s a shame when someone you love gets taken away, isn’t it? ❜
❛ If this is a relationship you wanna save, then you gotta fucking save it. ❜
❛ Off to deal drugs on a Saturday morning? ❜
❛ I’m probably biased, you deserve better than him. ❜
❛ If you don’t get out right now, I will shoot you. ❜
❛ Still don’t want your family to know? ❜
❛ Did I mention that I’m falling in love with you? ❜
❛ You can’t feel a persons headache by touching his head. ❜
❛ Are you robbing me with my own fucking gun? ❜
❛ How can you tell when you’re in love with someone? ❜
❛ Is that supposed to be some kind of insult? ❜
❛ I’m done living the way other people want me to live. ❜
❛ I think I was trying to prove something, not to you but to myself.  ❜
❛ If it wasn’t sex then what was the problem? ❜
❛ What do you want me to say? That I’m self-destructive? ❜
❛ Random destruction makes you think of me? ❜
❛ I haven’t abused marijuana like the rest of you, so yes I remember. ❜
❛ Your turf? What is this West Side Story? ❜
❛ All I’m gonna be thinking about while you choke me out is how much I love you. ❜
❛ If I don’t invest in myself, no one else will. ❜
❛ It smells worse than a dead hooker’s ass in there. ❜
❛ I don’t wanna be me anymore. ❜
❛ Why would anyone go to the zoo sober? ❜
❛ I’ve had so many abortions the next one is free. ❜
❛ I’d trade my left nut for one more hour of sleep. ❜
❛ How do you do that? The nice thing? ❜
❛ I’m sick of living in your shadow. ❜
❛ I never thought I’d say this but you were right. ❜
❛ Where can I get knives and blunts? ❜
❛ I can’t share a room with someone in constant state of arousal! ❜
❛ I’m sneaking antibiotics into his toothpaste just in case. ❜
❛ I got tasered for like a second and I crapped myself. ❜
❛ I’ve never seen you put on deodorant before. ❜
❛ I haven’t had a drink for two days…well granted I was unconscious. ❜
❛ I’ll be in the bushes across the street stalking you. ❜
❛ Is there anything more enjoyable on earth than humiliating your peers? ❜
❛ I need to buy a gun. For protection. In case there’s a shooting here. I’m scared. ❜
❛ It’s my job to tell you when you’re making a huge mistake. ❜
❛ Have you ever woken up naked in the street with no idea how you got there? ❜
❛ You’re either boning or you’re waiting to bone. ❜
❛ Doctors are thieves, they just have degrees to keep them out of jail. ❜
❛ You want me to be realistic? Okay, I’ll be realistic. ❜
❛ I confided in you and you told everyone. ❜
❛ I have no idea what that means but I’m enjoying trying to picture it. ❜
❛ I never made any fucking promises to you! ❜
Hold Me

Originally posted by alphabetbet

Raphael x Reader

Hold Me

Prompt: Could you write a Raph one where his s/o is in a random mood for major cuddles and he gives in to her cravings for affection and practically showers her in it with lots of fluff??? Thanks! 😄😄😄

You stared at your phone for a few long moments. You needed cuddles. And you needed them now. You picked up your phone and pulled up Raph’s contact and punched in a text.

Hey.

Hey.

Can you come over? Pretty, pretty please?

Yeah, why?

I’m looooonely. And booooored. And…I really need someone to cuddle with.

Do ya think I’m some sorta personal teddy bear, shorty?

Pleeeeeaaaaaase?

The guys are gonna tease me.

Then don’t tell them.

Raph?

U there?

Idk if you’re worth gettin’ teased over…

Raaaaaaaaph.

Hush. I’m comin’. Give me a minute.

Yesssssss.

Dork.

You love it.

I know. Yer lucky I care.

I know.

You waited for the big buff turtle in red to show up at your window. He wasn’t your boyfriend, despite the feelings you hoped he shared. But God, you wanted him to be your boyfriend. Personally, Raphael hadn’t asked you out for one reason: he though he wasn’t good enough for you. You were pretty, smart, funny, and worst of all…you were human. A pretty, smart, funny human girl could have any guy on the face of the earth. Why would you want a mutant reject that lived in the sewers?

But nonetheless, he showed up at your window a few minutes later, heart pounding and extremely nervous for whatever was going to come next. Sure, the two of you had had movie nights, but you had never cuddled. Ever. He wasn’t even sure why you had asked him to come here to satisfy your craving for touch.

Three taps on the window signaled his arrival. You slid the window up and helped him clamber inside. He looked down at you in your cute little Deadpool onesie. And though he tried to ignore it, he couldn’t deny that you looked good in red. Really good.

“Well, you look cozy.” He smirked. You smiled.

“Picked out a movie for us.”

“Oh yeah? Which one?”

“Fantastic Four.”

“Are ya kiddin’ me?”

“Nope.”

“Yer kiddin’ me. Didn’t that bomb?”

“Yeah, but…” you blushed at the thought that ran through your head. “Nevermind. Just settle in. I’ll make the popcorn. Wanted it to be fresh.”

He watched you run off to the kitchen while he got settled in your bed. It creaked under his weight. God, sometimes he forgot how heavy he was. How huge he was. And then there was you, this delicate little flower that he was so scared he would break.

Every time he thought about you, his heart did a backflip. The mere inkling of you was enough to drive him crazy. The thought of your tiny little hands in his, your tiny little feet and all of your adorable human toes. And then came the thoughts of how your skin would feel against his, how soft and silky it must be compared to his rough scales and callouses.

He exhaled a sigh, mentally scolding himself. There was no reason to tease himself with something he couldn’t have.

“Comfy?” You asked, setting the popcorn on the table beside your bed, which was pushed up against the wall. Raph was hunkered into your mound of pillows, half laying down, half propped up.

“Y-yeah. Sure am.” He wanted to punch himself for stuttering. You smirked a little and hopped into the bed beside him, transitioning to a comfy position laying on top of him, head pressed against his plastron. And there, thump-thumping in his chest was his heart. You smiled as you listened to it hammer, faster and faster with each second you were there with him. “Am I doin’ this right?”

“Doing what right?”

“You know…cuddlin’. Or whatever.” He paused, exhaling a somewhat embarrassed breath. “I ain’t exactly a pro.”

“You’re doing fine.” You giggled. “Just…here.” You pulled one of his muscular arms around your back and snuggled deeper into his plastron. “Perfect.”

“All right. Good.” He grabbed a handful of popcorn with his free hand and you started the movie.

***

“So which of ‘em’s yer favorite?” he asked as the credits rolled. Your heart hammered. Here was the moment. The moment you were hoping he would set up. And now you could finally take the opportunity laid out before you.

“The Thing.” You replied casually. He let out a little breath of surprise.

“Why’s that?”

“Because…” You blushed as deep as Raph’s mask. “I like my guys big and strong and a little rough around the edges.” You shrugged. “But I mean, where would I ever find a guy like that?”

“Yer sayin’…” It took him a few seconds to put the pieces together. “Me. Ya…ya like me.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“The reasons previously stated, and also: you might not admit it, but you, Raphael, are a huge softy and I love that.”

“I ain’t soft.”

“Look at us right now.”

“Point taken.”

“And your eyes are gorgeous.”

“Umm…”

“And you’re super buff and brave, and you’ve saved the world like twice and-”

“Why not Leo?” Raph’s words caused a sudden silence.

“What?”

“Leo’s all ‘uh those things. He could treat ya right.”

“Okay, but I don’t love Leo, Raph. I love you.”

“Y-you what?” Raph almost choked.

“I. Love. You.”

“I l-love you too.” He paused, mulling over the exchange that had just gone down. “So then are we…are ya my girlfriend?”

“Do you want me to be your girlfriend?”

“Hell yeah.”

“Then I think that answers that question, boyfriend.” You pressed a kiss to his cheek. And then it hit you. That was the first kiss he had ever received. Ever. The blush that spread across his cheeks only confirmed your theory. You were not going to let this moment pass without taking it one baby step further. You pressed a soft hand against his rough face and turned it to face you. His eyes darted from your lips back to your eyes and he gulped, green eyes wide as you leaned closer to him.

Raphael decided in a single moment that your lips were the softest things on earth. They were also the sweetest things he had ever tasted, freshly coated in cherry lip gloss. Bright and red and now they were his to kiss whenever he wanted. This night had taken an unexpected turn indeed. But he couldn’t complain. He would never complain, so long as he had you.

“So uh…now what?” He asked after a long pause.

“Well…we could pop in another movie and cuddle some more, or we could go back to the lair and brag to your brothers.” You suggested. Raph smirked, imagining the look on Leo’s dumb face when he came home with a girlfriend.

“We’re goin’ to the lair.”

“That’s what I thought.”

anonymous asked:

Sorry for asking but you're okay with straight allies, right?

in my line of work, you eventually reach a point where you know when you’re being followed. you stop registering exactly what it is that tips you off. it’s one thing, or it’s the other; whether it was the snap of a twig, the skittering of an animal into hiding behind you, or an eerie silence drawn too long, it doesn’t matter. what matters is how you deal with it after you realise.

this is one of those moments i can’t dial back to figure out what set it off. i’m focused on the details of the present. i’m focused on making sure i don’t change my pace. making sure i don’t look like i suspect a thing. the rhythm of walking is familiar, almost casual. you don’t live this long if you’re not good at what you do, and accusations of ego be damned, i am one of the best.

the checklist in my head runs faster than the small hand of my watch, a blur of contingencies. marked: the gun readied in my grasp, the knife in my boot, the twinge of pain in my left shoulder. security got one good hit in before i was gone. some part of me thinks i let that happen. that i wasn’t entertained enough to bring flawlessness into tonight’s equation.

it’s an easy figure that i’ve been trailed since i left. the night is disturbingly still, even for what it is. in this part of the world, the darkness brings a cold that bites right into your bones.

the alley i turn into smells overwhelmingly of blood.

not willing to take chances, i don’t bother stopping to see where the scent’s coming from. i could be drowning in the stuff now and not know it. by the overpowering stench, i might well be. the minutes have been gauged down to the final heartbeat, and this is exactly when it’s about to turn. whoever is following me should know by now that i know. the only thing we have left to figure out is who wins this game.

it doesn’t take longer than a few seconds, drenched in vertigo. there is a resounding crack against the brick wall of the alleyway, and i whirl to take a step forward, handgun-first. my free hand has found its position at the switch on my earpiece, ensuring HQ will hear every second of what is about to ensue. the breath i’ll use to tell my attacker to stand down has already been taken by the time i realise there is no one there.

jerkily, as if witnessed under strobe lights, i lower my weapon. the quiet buzz of my earpiece seems muted underneath my suddenly racing heart. everything flickers. in the suffocated seconds between, i raise my hand to my face. the alley doesn’t smell like blood; my nose is bleeding. i search blearily for a solution. poison? that would explain the fogginess.

a swear under my breath gets filtered out and hidden underneath the sickly saccharine tone of a voice behind me. “sorry for asking,” it croons, “but…”

my vision is a flashing, afterimage-infested mess as i spin to try to track the source of the voice. what i see is something i’m not certain i really see at all, something i doubt you could find in daylight. something i doubt you could find anywhere that still holds life. i fumble for my gun again but the beast before me takes hold of my hand and stills it. it is so close to my face that i can see nothing else. an acrid smell, like petrol, covers up even the blood.

in my head i’m begging for something to happen, praying that my earpiece still works. someone has to hear this. someone has to help or snap me out of this nightmare. i’ve been here long enough to know how to show no fear, but it still catches up with me. i hear the twinge in my voice, spitting, “don’t touch me,” and pretending it is some kind of threat.

the beast doesn’t heed it. it leans in further, brushing against my cheek. i do not want to hear the question it has. i expect it to kill me.

“… you’re okay with straight allies, right?” the beast whispers, and i hear the remaining static from HQ fizzle out.

dylanlovesthemets  asked:

“You look pretty hot in plaid" this could go both ways w sterek i think, like derek complimenting stiles on his daily outfits or stiles seeing derek in plaid for the first time

@dylanlovesthemets i almost listened but it kind of got away from me :D 

“Move, Scott,” Derek grumbles, irritated and tired and protective.

Stiles is limp in Derek’s arms after being struck by the monster of the week. Scott had once again failed to account for Stiles’ fragility and left him without so much as a bat to defend himself.

Derek had seen it happen, seen the big scaly tail knock Stiles off his feet and into a tree. And he’s done what he could to hear if Stiles was hurt worse than a concussion and so far hasn’t been able to hear anything out of the ordinary. Heartbeat still in a normal rhythm, no bones creaking or scraping against each other as Derek rolled Stiles onto his back to check him over.

He’s got Stiles bridal style in his arms and is walking back to the cars now that the thing has been taken care of. But Scott is hovering.

“We should take him to see Deaton, or at least have my mom look at him,” Scott is saying, still trailing behind Derek, gripping at Derek’s shoulder and Derek bites back a growl of irritation. He just doesn’t want anyone in his space right now.

“I’m taking him to my apartment. His dad is working tomorrow and through the weekend and Stiles is going to need someone to wake him up every couple hours if he does have a concussion. A test which I am well equipped to do, Scott, since I am an EMT,” Derek impatiently explains as they come up to the cars all parked together in a clearing.

“I know, I know,” Scott is quick to answer but he’s still hesitant. Derek knows they trust each other but apparently that trust doesn’t extend to trusting Derek with Stiles.

Once Stiles is laid comfortably, but still unconscious in the back of Derek’s Toyota he turns to face Scott’s worried face.

“He’s going to be fine and if he’s not, you’re the first person I call,” Derek says and it’s true. If Stiles wakes up in more pain than a concussion warrants or he stops breathing or something, Scott would be the first person Derek would contact…along with Melissa and John in the group text.

But the reassurance is enough for Scott who nods and steps away. Derek talks quickly to Isaac, Erica and Boyd, making sure they’re all still in one piece after the small tussle in the woods. But they’re fine and he gets an eye roll from Erica so they’re really okay if they’re able to sass their alpha at 3am.

Now he just has to get Stiles back to his apartment and make sure he wakes up in a reasonable amount of time.


Derek is pacing slowly in the apartment. He’s not overly anxious, Stiles has been awake since they got in and confirmed only a headache before swallowing some advil and going back to sleep. Derek is still concerned there might be other aches and pains that Stiles is waving off that should be addressed.

For now, he’s on concussion watch though so he’s trying to keep himself awake for the next hour until it’s time to wake Stiles again. He’d sleep himself but the couch isn’t appealing tonight and he knows when he falls asleep it’s going to be hellish to drag himself out of it. He’d rather get another check in with Stiles before he loses consciousness for the next few hours.

The pacing is to keep his mind focused on something, one foot in front of the other, eight steps, turn, eight again. He can hear Stiles’ steady, shallow, sleeping breathing as he does and he thinks he’s pretty calm despite the circumstances. He’s more surprised that he’s surprised than actually startled when the door opens and Stiles is standing there, leaning against the door jam. His eyes are droopy but Derek can still hear his heart beating exactly how it’s supposed to.

“You look pretty hot in plaid,” Stiles says, his clear voice showing that despite his sleepy expression, he’s completely alert.

Derek looks down at his pajama pants before looking up at Stiles with a soft smile.

“You’ve said that before,” Derek replies, tracing his own steps as he walks over towards where Stiles is wavering on his feet now that he’s no longer leaning against the door frame.

He settles his hands on Stiles’ warm waist and relishes the small smile he gets at the welcome touch.

“It’s worth repeating,” Stiles says and tilts his head back, Derek is all too happy to oblige and press a quick dry kiss on his lips.

This thing between them is new, not so new that Derek questions the kiss but it is still something they’ve kept just between them. And it’s something they haven’t taken much further than kissing. Derek had been set and ready to tell Stiles he needed to wait before things got physical in their relationship. But Stiles had been the one who put limits on things.

The pack doesn’t know. And Scott doesn’t know. But the Sheriff knows and that’s enough for them right now. It’s why Derek was so determined to get Stiles to his apartment. The sheriff really will be at work for the better part of the next few days and they both would want someone with Stiles while he’s concussed. The fact that Derek has his EMT license now only furthered the Sheriff’s approval of him dating his son. He’s been doing more to get his life together, to be a contributing member of society.

“How are you feeling,” Derek asks quietly and pushes Stiles’ hair off his face gently.

“Like I got my head smashed into the ground,” he murmurs as his eyes close again and he leans into Derek’s chest.

“Thanks for bringing me here,” he says into Derek’s chest and Derek brings his arms up to rub Stiles’ back comfortingly.

“Of course,” Derek says gently and starts to walk them back into the bedroom.

“Don’t know if I’ve said this but, I feel safe here. With you. Your space. You make me feel safe, Der,” Stiles says softly and Derek tries to keep from letting the excitement those words incited from leaking out.

“I-“ Derek clears the emotion from his throat, “I’m really happy to hear that Stiles. How are you doing for painkillers? Do you need me to get more advil? More pain drain?” Derek offers but Stiles shakes his head.

“No, just you. Come lay down with me?” he requests as he crawls into the bed with Derek holding the covers up for him to settle beneath them.

Those sleepy eyes, the soft fluffy hair and the circumstances have Derek capitulating without much resistance.

“Let me just grab you some water and I’ll be right back,” Derek explains as he tucks the covers around Stiles.

Stiles nods into his pillow and Derek dashes quickly back to the outer rooms. He checks the door again, fills up a large glass with water and snags the bottle of Advil – just in case. He makes quick work of putting both down on the nightstand next to Stiles. He crosses to the other side of the queen size bed and gently lifts the covers, stealing beneath and wrapping Stiles close in his arms.

After a few minutes of slow steady breathing Stiles snuffles into Derek’s chest.

“Thanks, Der,” he mumbles and Derek’s arms squeeze gently in a closer embrace.

“Anytime,” he says and is completely unsurprised that he means it. That he means something more, something they haven’t said to each other yet. But, Derek thinks, maybe they say it in other ways.

anonymous asked:

WTF was all that pure pastel pink promo shit weeks ago? I feel like I dreamt it. Now when I look at the album art and listen to the lyrics about different women and sex and I make no correlation to the pure soft vulnerable bare Harry on the cover. WTF is the hard candy lyrics? WTF is going on with 'I am not a womanizer' image. Oh yeah sex, drugs & rock'n'roll. That's what's going on. As a fan of rock music I am so proud of the album. As a fan of Harry, I am disappointed.

Hello, and thank you for your message.

I completely understand. In fact this morning I did a full rant about my thoughts on the matter via Twitter. You can read it here. Like high key, Twitter is where I have no filter and am like “THIS IS WHAT I’M THINKING!!” and Tumblr is where I’m an analytical hoe about things, so let’s analyse!

I listened to the breakfast show last night (as I am currently in LA) and then fell into a mini rage coma because I, too, was like, “What the actual fuck just happened?” Then I woke up to this:

And I was like, “Well this is probably the most damage control we’ve ever gotten or will get.”    

HOWEVER! The dichotomy from Harry rainbow-wearin Styles and this NO HOMO I HAVE HETERO SEX WITH ALL THE WOMEN Hersh makes me…uneasy. That’s the only word I can come up with. Let’s be honest, last week Harry looked about one tattoo and rainbow away from coming out. This might as well have been him at that hockey game:

And then today with this…

There’s just this constant push and pull between what Harry DOES and what he says in interviews. But I get it. I do. Harry Styles is a billion dollar commodity. Do you understand how much revenue he’s brought to Sony in the last month? He sold out a tour for music that no one had even heard in minutes. 

At one point in my vida loca I was offered a publishing deal with a company that everyone has heard of. They wanted to publish it through their non-fiction department and they wanted me to say that I had slept with a don or professor at my university. Which I hadn’t. This was during my final year at university, and whilst I’m sure my life would’ve had a much different trajectory I’m also sure that once people figured out who I am (as many have), I would probably be stripped of my hard-earned Oxbridge degree for lying and shaming my university. Which is why you’ve never read any kind of SCANDAL at Oxbridge. Just the normal undergrad sex and drinking stuff. I rank quite low on the list of outrageous alumni if you look at the last 900 years of students. 

Back to Haz. 

Whilst I never compromised my morals, I also didn’t sign any kind of deal with the devil when I was 16. We have absolutely no idea what the details of his employment are. And he is an employee. Harry is owned by someone. Whether you like it or not, the bottom line doesn’t stop at Harry, it stops at the people who are investing in him and relying on a substantial profit. 

Perhaps the rainbows and pink and very romantic vibes he’s got going on with just about any man in his vicinity thing were all put out there to test the waters. We know that they monitor the fandom, and maybe the analytics didn’t hit their “okay to be gay” criteria. I’m speaking bluntly in terms of business because I can guarantee you that Sony cares about exactly one thing: the money that they are making for themselves. 

Something else to consider when recovering from whiplash because of this complete 180 Harry’s done since last week, is that interview with that horrible woman who said, “Fans are convinced that ‘Sweet Creature’ is about your relationship with Louis Tomlinson. Is it?” After which Harry spent approximately 138 seconds saying “Uhhhhhhhh” before refusing to say “no”. He could’ve said no! He could’ve SHOUTED no, as he did at Grimmy when he said, “Here’s a song about Taylor Swift!” One thing we got from that interview is that Harry does indeed have the word “No” in his vocabulary. “No. This isn’t about Taylor Swift.” vs “Yes. I can understand why fans think this is about Louis because it is but I would lean towards them maybe being wrong.” That isn’t how you say no. And that didn’t go over anyone’s head. 

Honestly, I love this album. “Woman” is actually my favourite song from it at the moment. I can’t really listen to “Two Ghosts” because it sounds too much like “Revelry” by Kings of Leon and that song is forever associated with a very bad time for me so yeah. “Woman” just reminds me of Bennie and the Jets and 27 Dresses.    

I just wish it could’ve been left at, “ It’s much more powerful when not taken simply as what it is.” Because that’s so true. This album is so layered and brilliant and I think I’m mostly mad that they’ve reduced it to such a boring and blatant interpretation. We got the very opposite of what Harry’s been telling us when he all but said that these songs are about actual women that he literally slept with. 

So I guess my question is…what exactly is Jeffry helping with aside from bringing back a narrative that Harry seemed to have tried relentlessly to debunk?

I just can’t reconciliate the Harry that they’re pushing this week with the Harry that reacted this way to being called a womaniser in an interview:

Regardless of what you think or ship, I do think that it’s fair to feel like you’re being asked to accept two completely contrasting versions of Harry Styles right now. 

Pink Floyd

Originally posted by riverdaleselite

A/N: I’M BACK… and so soon as well. Enjoy, beautiful (yes, I’m talking to you).

Request:  Hi honey ! <3 I was wondering if you could write an imagine, where Jughead always sees a little girl in Pop’s, she eats ice cream or drink milkshakes after school, and she is really talkatvive, annoys him a lot, but she reminds him so much of Jellybean so he never was mean to her, only in playful way, and when he find out, that she has a cute older sister at his age (reader) he likes her even more ? ^^

Word Count: 1,913

Warnings: None

Keep reading

TST is so goddamn blue: a meta

TST is just all kinds of weird. Everything feels off, and even the first third, which is supposed to be light-hearted and funny, is unsettling in many ways (for instance, why was John, a doctor, driving the car when his wife, Mary, was going into labor instead of having Sherlock drive? We know Sherlock can drive very well from THoBV, so wtf? And why would Sherlock ever say that Mary is better than John when it clearly hurt John that he’d say that? And what was the narrative point of the dog being there, apart from the fact that Sherlock likes dogs? Anyway, I digress.)

One theory that I’ve seen going around is that Sherlock is narrating this episode, and therefore, we’re dealing with an unreliable narrator. If Sherlock is in fact telling this story to his therapist, Ella, at the end of the episode, and is lying about some parts of his story, then what is he lying about? Well, one option is that he’s lying about how Mary died in order to protect someone. But he’s Sherlock… who would he bother protecting?

“It’s always you, John Watson.” Of course. It probably has to do with John. With saving and protecting John, as is Sherlock’s MO.

One theory by @the-7-percent-solution that I’m extremely fond of at the moment is that John killed Mary, and Sherlock is lying to his therapist in order to protect John (just like Watson may have lied in the original ACD story Charles Augustus Milverton to protect Holmes after Holmes presumably killed Milverton, which is what Mofftiss believe happened), and to give John an alias. Which would mean that quite a lot of the episode is either a fabrication, or changed slightly in order to make the story more convincing.

And, since I noticed that there is a LOT of blue in this episode, I decided to go through and examine the most blue-lit and blue-colored scenes, and see if I anything popped out at me. Something did. It might be nothing, but I’m gonna roll with it and see where it goes.

This is the scene where Sherlock discovers the A.G.R.A. memory stick in the Thatcher bust, and fights with Ajay. Everything in this scene is blue, or lit up with blue: the pool, the pool lights, the waves painted on the walls (real subtle with the Water Thing there, Mark), the police lights. It’s overwhelmingly blue. Which means that, if blue coloring or lighting means that Sherlock is lying (and I will explain why I think that might be the case in just a second) then Ajay’s story about why he’s actually hunting down Mary - or even the way/reason that Sherlock discovers the memory stick - might be either a lie, or a half-lie on Sherlock’s part (assuming he’s telling Ella all this after it’s happened.)

These screenshots are taken from the montage of Rosamund Mary’s escape trip. Again, there is quite a bit of blue, especially in the transitions and maps. And the dice. Again, just like the scene where Sherlock finds the A.G.R.A. memory stick, this part of the narrative has been twisted or is unreliable. We’re not seeing the full truth here. Maybe Rosamund Mary had a much more sinister reason to leave London than just escaping another assassin. (I’m not sure this part holds up as well as some of the other blue-colored scenes, but still. I thought it was very interesting how they stuck with this one-color scheme across so many scenes in this episode.)

This is the scene where Rosie begins crying, and John texts the girl from the bus stop. Again, everything in this scene is pretty damn blue; at least it stood out as being strangely blue to me. I mean, c’mon, even the bathroom tiling and towels are blue:

So maybe that means that this scene isn’t entirely true, either. The unreliable narrator - Sherlock, possibly - has embellished or left out something critical to understanding (in context) this scene. I’m not entirely sure what to make of this one, but maybe someone can help me out with figuring out how/why this scene might possibly have been a lie or a half-lie.

So I think this one is pretty self-explanatory. This whole scene is so strange and off, as many people who are much better at this whole meta thing than I am have already pointed out (I.E., John, an army doctor, not doing anything other than talk to his dying wife when he could clearly do so much more to help save her… jfc?)

Maybe Rosamund Mary didn’t really die in this sccene. Maybe, after finding out something about Mary’s past or present while confronting her about the A.G.R.A. memory stick or Morocco (again, assuming that both those scenes weren’t shown to the audience exactly how they happened) John killed her, and Sherlock’s protecting John by not telling the story how it really happened. Or maybe it’s something else… but there is an incredible amount of blue in this scene, which very clearly connects it (for me) to the previous scenes I’ve mentioned.

After Rosamund Mary’s death scene, the camera pans up and we get this shot:

A blue shark. And since sharks have repeatedly been associated with villains already on this show, that’s pretty damn suggestive. The shark is still swimming - it hasn’t stopped, and therefore it hasn’t died.

After the blue shark, we immediately get this shot a box (coffin? Ashes?) burning with blue flames:

Again, this is sticking to a common color scheme present in many other scenes that could easily have been changed or fabricated to hide a much more sinister side of Rosamund Mary, and a very different version of that aquarium scene. So maybe Rosamund Mary isn’t actually dead, or the how/why of her death is a lie, or, or, or…

And that brings me to why I think that blue might be important.  In one of the last scenes in the episode, we see that Sherlock is in therapy, and trying to figure out what to “do about John.”

Strangely, the therapist, Ella, has an office that’s painted blue: walls, ceiling, everything. (It is also shaped similarly to the tube in the aquarium, and lit in a very similar way to the room where Rosamund Mary died, but I’m not entirely sure that has any significance?) Oftentimes, when pressured to make something up or lie about something, people will look to what’s around them to help them come up with material for their lies. So if Sherlock is recounting this story from his memory, isn’t it possible that his surrounding are leaking into how he sees those memories, especially the ones that aren’t coming from his memory because they’re partially or fully falsehoods?

And then the episode ends on this shot:

More blue, with Sherlock framed in front of water, on his way to “save John Watson.” Real subtle, Mark.


((If anyone recognizes a reference to one of their metas in this post, please, please, please tell me and I’ll tag you and give credit! I really don’t want to seem like I’m stealing anyone’s theories, I just got excited by all the metas I was seeing and decided to make one, too!))

poeedamerons  asked:

I was reading a fix where Lydia tells Stiles that Derek is a nuclear engineer major and Stiles was very attracted to that and another that Derek was a video game designer and Stiles was also very into that, what I am asking is: can you guys rec me some fics Stiles is totally attracted to Derek but also his nerdy/brainiac profession/major? Since I am here do you guys know any Jurassic Park or Jurassic World sterek au?

I did the dinosaur one here. Roooooaaaar. And here’s smart!Derek and Stiles digging it. - Anastasia

Originally posted by hoechlin-alpha

Derek is Smart by Kateomega97

(1/1 I 474 I Not Rated)

Exactly what it says on the tin.

Stacking Up by bravelittlesoldier

(1/1 I 8,286 I Mature)

Stiles is working in the basement of the Library of Congress and is feeling his social skills quickly deteriorate. Then along comes a new librarian working at Circulation who is most definitely a male model. Maybe its time to start re-socializing.

Better With You by fatale

(3/? I 10,465 I Teen)

Derek is the runt of the litter - a lowly freshman twerp in a family of gorgeous Amazons. He likes to read, has a gift for languages, and a nervous apprehension of everything that high school has to offer. When smug, sarcastic sophomore Stiles Stilinski (say that three times fast) nearly runs him down on the first day of school, it is just the spark of enmity that will affect the rest of their high school years together.

Put Down in Words by paintedrecs

(9/31 I 36,301 I Mature)

“Oh,” Stiles said, his voice coming out low and breathy, “fuck me.”

“I don’t think that’s on the syllabus, but we can check to see if there’s a spot open in any of his classes,” Scott said, grinning.

“This isn’t an actual professor, though,” Stiles insisted, unable to resist brushing his thumb over the sharp line of the man’s bearded jaw. He was laughing at something off-camera, the shot taken in three-quarters view, his coat collar casually rumpled and opened to reveal a sliver of a simple grey t-shirt. The whole thing was deliberately calculated to lend him a more accessible feel, and god help him, Stiles was falling for it.

*

When Stiles signed up for Dr. Hale’s intro to history class, he had two goals: knock out the credits his advisor was bugging him to complete before he graduated, and spend a few hours a week daydreaming about his sexy professor’s salt and pepper beard.

Derek, a few months away from turning forty and not sure when his life had started feeling so damn lonely, had never encountered someone like Stiles before. Bright-eyed, sharp-tongued, determined to throw Derek’s carefully cultivated world into disarray…and absolutely the last person Derek should be falling in love with.

Who Knew by SourWolfie (pieprincess_andthe_fallenangel)

(26/26 I 88,161 I Explicit)

Stiles finally scraped together enough money to get his own apartment and he’s really fucking proud of it, okay? He just wishes shit would stop breaking. He also wishes he hadn’t just bitched out his incredibly hot landlord, but that ship has sailed right along with his dignity.

ryvetted4  asked:

Hii! For the 3-sentence fic could you do Sterek? Where Stiles is a taxi driver it's raining and suddenly this stranger dressed in a tux and patent leather shoes hurriedly flags him down. He smells the money and expensive cologne before he even gets in and Stiles is all "Shouldn't you have your own limo or something?"

This got… a little out of hand

Stiles wasn’t exactly sure why someone at the MET Gala called for a Lyft, most of those guests had limos or town cars at the very least, but he didn’t really care; it was a relatively slow night because of the rain and the girl who called the Lyft was pretty. 

There was a tap on the window and Stiles jumped, he had just sent the ‘I’m here’ text so he wasn’t expecting his passenger already, “Are you Stiles?”

“Yeah but you don’t look like a Cora to me,” Stiles said before he could stop himself. His brain to mouth filter was pretty shitting on the best day and when there was a guy who was hotter than the sun standing in a tux worth more than his Jeep looking like something out of a Rom Com it was nonexistent. 

The guy, who looked oddly familiar, huffed, “I’m Derek, she’s my sister. My phone died and I needed to get out of there so she called the ride, can I get in?”

“Oh yeah, sure, yeah,” Stiles said, running a hand through his hair, “Like I said I’m Stiles and you’re not Cora.”

“Right,” The guy said with a smile, “Derek, Derek Hale.”

Stiles brain short circuited for a second. Derek Hale, son of Talia and Joseph Hale, New York City billionaires, was in his shitty Jeep. 

“Well, Derek, Derek Hale,” Stiles said once his motor functions came back online, “Where am I taking you in your fancy suit. Wait shouldn’t you have a limo or something?”

“Paps follow the limos when they leave,” Derek said, “I just wanted some peace and quiet.”

“So… home then?” Stiles asked, not sure what to make of the handsome billionaire in his car.

Derek looked at him then, really looked at him, his eyes soft and earnest, and said, “This might sound really stupid and you can say no, but would you just take me to some hole in the wall diner in like Queens and eat a meal with me? I want to be around someone who isn’t fawning over me and you haven’t done that yet.”

“I’m very good at hiding my fawning,” Stiles said with a smile, “And I know just the place. No one will bother you there, not even me.”

“You can bother me if you want,” Derek said with a little smile, letting out a breath as Stiles pulled away and headed toward Queens and his favorite diner, the one his mom used to take him to when he was a kid.

When they got there Stiles put the car in park but didn’t get out, “This is a good place, tell them you know Stiles and they’ll make sure you’re taken care of.”

“How about you tell them I know Stiles,” Derek said with a shy grin, “My treat, this time.”

“I’ll get the next one then,” Stiles said, shutting the Jeep off and getting out into the rainy night.

“I’d like that.”

I lied to you. I do know how to love people. Maybe you already know the truth. That’s the thing about eyes. Mine don’t lie. I’m sure some people can, but me? I cannot, I will not, I do not know how. If I’m in it deep, you’ll know. Even if we break, I’ll always love you and that’s the thing about me and how love was always broken. I’m the kind of writer that owns a dictionary, but makes promises that I’ll look up every word that you mean to me, put you into a poem, put you into my thoughts, call you late at night, when I’m too high and I can’t function, so I want to hear your voice, I can’t sleep, I don’t sleep well, my mother is getting skinnier, I’ve got worries on my mind, what if she never sees her son rise, the kind of man who would gladly kill his lungs just to feel okay, I don’t know why I smoke, but I just keep lighting it up, I keep lighting it up, I keep lighting it up, I keep fucking things up, and maybe I shouldn’t have kissed you, maybe I shouldn’t have bought you flowers, maybe I shouldn’t have told you that you were pretty, maybe I shouldn’t have cried while you were around, I’m not weak, it’s just not healthy to keep those tears inside, ask anyone, the heart doesn’t lie. Do you ever feel like you could be someone else? I don’t know when I got this way. I don’t know how to open up and it’s hard to interact with people. It’s like I’m running on fumes and I’m constantly exhausted. It’s like I’m all out of love and I can’t memorize the guidelines of how to love yourself. Are there guidelines? I was catching feelings, I was. I did have feelings for you. That’s the thing about me. If I ever write to you, at fucking all, truth is, you’ve already got my heart. Maybe that’s why I stopped loving her. She stopped writing. When you said that you fell for me. When you said that you were in love with me. When you said that you didn’t know what we were. When you didn’t know how to respond to nosey people, what are you two? Is he your boyfriend? Does it really matter? Can’t I just be good to you? I guess I love too deeply without intent and that’s my exact problem. Always searching for the next fix when I’m still like this. And I can’t accept that I feel pressured to call you the one, but you’re not. And I’m not the one for you. Things are getting kind of critical, so maybe that’s why I feel this way. Everywhere I look, it’s be careful, you’re still tender. Do you ever feel like we could be different people? Move to a new country, learn the language and change our identities? The truth is, even if we did. We’d still end up here, like this, in this place, as who we are. Which way does my heart point? Some nights it points to her, some nights it points to the stars, I just want to go home already. Burn my body and pour my ashes into deep space. Let me be the first one to be scattered where it’s cold enough to freeze tears. I want to know why Icarus did it. I want to know what the road less taken feels like. I want to be the poison that they drank. I want to be that one piano key that just keeps breaking. I want to be the hands that you’ll let go of when things get kinda hard, so I can tell you that I told you so. But I’ll never let it get that far. I’m not with the heartache. I’m not with the heartbreak. I’m not with the bullshit. I’m not with the pressure. I’m not a diamond. I’m not a gem. I’m not a star. I’m no one special, just another fucked up individual trying to feel less lonely and maybe that’s where I went wrong. I’m not in the business of letting girls cry alone because I used to let her cry all night long. Why do you always cry? Won’t you stop? So I didn’t leave that night. I comforted when I should’ve left. And I’m really sorry, I’m less of a man because I’m not brave enough to love you. My only excuse is that I don’t know how to love myself. I’ve made so much progress although I’m still back at square one when I take another pill. I won’t let anyone ruin it for me and maybe that’s why I’m selfish. I am. Can’t I be? Can’t I just love myself? I shouldn’t have led you on and that’s the only thing I’m really sorry about. I’m being real with you, won’t you accept me? You ask me these things, how come no one loves me when I’m finally starting to love myself? I do love you, I’m just not in love with you. You’re strong and you’ve got more backbone than I do. You’ve got a voice of sirens and banshees, you know who you want and who you need. Baby, I’m not the guy. I’m the guy that would explain it all, but you’ll never get a chance to read this. And if you find this some day, you’ll know exactly who you are. So read this when you’re alone. Read this when you’re drinking your favorite wine. Read this when you’re finally in love with someone else.
—  yours, yours
Unwanted (Bucky x reader)

This one is a request by @buckyslocalfarmer and I gladly accepted. I thought it be a really good fic to balance out the angst of Battered and Bruised. (If you love Bucky, then I think you’ll like my series, Battered and Bruised. You can find it here in my masterlist.) 

This turned really smutty really quickly and I’d just like to say that this is my first time writing smut and I’m sorry if it’s bad. I’m gonna work on it. So please forgive me for the cringy writing. 

Request:  Could you do something with Bucky where reader is feeling useless, due to her work, friends or something like that and Bucky comforts her? Something fluffy or hot.

Warnings: SMUT. and cursing


Your boss had asked you to come to his office to tell you something. You were nervous, you had a terrifying boss who gave scowls everyone in the building. Maybe he was promoting you? You honestly had no idea. You came into his office and shut the door behind you. 

“You said you wanted to s-” You were cut off immediately. 

“You’re fired, F/N.” He gave you one of his famous death glares. You had no idea what to say, so you nodded and turned, leaving his office for good. You didn’t understand. You were doing everything that you were supposed to do and you made sure all your deadlines were met, even going as far as to getting them in a few days early. You groaned in frustration as you packed up your things from your cubicle and headed to the car. The rest of the employees peered from their work spaces, their eyes like lasers in your back. You could feel everyone staring at you. 

You snapped. “What the hell do you all want?” When they realized that you could tell they were staring they darted back to your work, acting like they hadn’t done anything at all. 

“That’s what I thought.” You walked out, your blood boiling. When you reached the car, you threw your box of belongings in the back seat and got in. Your car ride was silent. No music. Nothing. You were beyond upset. You felt so useless. Every time you tried to do well, and go above and beyond, they hated you. 

Keep reading

the fall

Sirius Black knew what stunning felt like. He had been stunned several times by the likes of Lily Evans, Remus Lupin and even James Potter when he didn’t behave as he should. He knew what it felt like ever since he was 9 years old because sometimes he just didn’t know when to shut up. So when Bellatrix’ spell hit him, he felt that familiar tingle all over his body, soon he’d fall to the marble floors of the Department of Mysteries, he would feel the cold of the marble all over his skin and Harry would continue duelling for him, he was as good as James was, he could handle that git Malfoy himself.

When he lost his balance, he heard familiar voices that didn’t belong to anyone in the room with him, calling his name, telling him to be careful. They sounded like.. James? 

Sirius felt his body become weightless as he fell backwards, the last thing he heard was Harry’s piercing scream and Bellatrix’ chanting.

I killed Sirius Black. I killed Sirius Black. I killed Sirius Black.

He was falling like you would fall in your nightmares and wake up suddenly from the pull but this time he didn’t wake up. He kept falling like he threw himself from a tall building, it was like the time stood still but he kept falling. When he finally reached the ground he didn’t crash as he should have but he landed gracefully, which didn’t sound very much like him. Sirius felt hard ground behind his back but it wasn’t cold like the marble would have been. He couldn’t really be dead, could he? Bella liked to exaggerate things and Harry could have screamed about something else. Sirius was almost completely sure Bella hit him with a stunning curse, was he weak enough to die from a stunning curse?

Sirius didn’t dare open his eyes as the reality settled in, he didn’t hear Harry or the others in the room, not Moody’s orders nor Tonks’ rapid duelling, he didn’t hear Remus’ strong curses either. For the first time in his life, or his existence was a better choice of words now, he wanted to hear Bella’s screeching voice.

“Siri?”

Sirius felt like he was shot in the head. His eyes flew open as he heard the familiar voice of his little brother. Regulus was extending a hand for Sirius to take but Sirius ignored it and pushed himself up. Second shot, this time through his heart. James Potter was standing right there, in flesh and blood. Was this his heaven? As he was thinking about what was going on, Sirius saw the taller boy running to him as his wife slowly walked behind him.

James looked the same as Sirius had left him on the floor that October night, his hair perfectly messy and glasses still crooked. Lily glowed the way she did before the war, the beauty of her heart somehow always reached the surface. They were as Sirius had left them and they were not real. How could they be? When had Sirius been that lucky?

James threw himself at Sirius and Sirius felt himself melt because the way James hugged him hadn’t changed in all those years either and Sirius could feel the warmth radiating from him. If this was a dream, how did he feel that? James kept mumbling “I’m sorry” quietly as he held Sirius tighter. He had replayed James’ hugs millions of times in his head when he was locked up, they always made him feel safe and of all the things that could have happened to him, he never expected this. When James finally pulled back, Sirius could see the warm honey eyes of his brother looking back at him glistening with the tears he was trying to hold back.

“I’m sorry,” whispered James once more. “I’m so sorry you had to live like that and it’s all because of us.”

Sirius didn’t know what to say, did it even matter if he was a part of his imagination? He then stared at Lily who had his hand on her mouth as she always did when she was about to cry, he could see her chin trembling as she tried to keep it in.

“You should see this,” she murmured and pulled Sirius by the hand and now Sirius was looking at Harry who was running after an ecstatic Bellatrix for revenge leaving Remus behind. “I don’t know how he will heal after this.”

“He will Lils, he has so much of you in him.”

Sirius had no idea what was going on, if this was real or not but seeing Harry like that was the second most hardest thing he had to endure. He was so broken, almost as broken as his Moony was, Sirius could feel it from wherever he was. He could hear the way is heart shattered into sand sized pieces but he knew, he knew Harry would get better. He knew his godson. In the two short years he got to share with him, he had seen him grow more and more like James with a heart of gold and he was sure, Harry was strong enough to get over him, too. 

Sirius finally looked away from his godson, seeing that Dumbledore was there and he would be alright, he fixed his gaze on James who was standing right next to him.

“Are you real?” asked Sirius, he couldn’t help but touch James’ face and shoulders and all of them a proof that his brother was standing right in front of him after all these years.

“Yes.”

It was Sirius’ time to hold on tight, it could be a lie but he didn’t care, he might be dead but he didn’t give a shit because he had his Prongs back. As stupid as it may sound, Sirius didn’t feel like he was dead, he even felt alive because he had already died on 31st of October fifteen years ago when he had seen James lying on the floor life drained from his eyes. 

“I tried so hard to take him, Lils,” said Sirius as he was staring at Lily Evans’ green eyes and smiling at the thought of how they were the exact same of the boy downstairs. “I never wanted him to be taken to Petunia’s and I’m so–”

Lily hugged Sirius so genuinely, Sirius knew it was her way of telling him that it wasn’t his fault. 

“We should be the ones apologising to you,” said Lily in between her hiccups.

“For what exactly?” challenged Sirius because he really couldn’t see any reason for them to be sorry for. It was all his fault.

“You had to live in Azkaban for twelve years because of us Pads, you lived with those creatures and I watched you, how you lost your senses and your soul–” James began but Sirius raised his hand to shut him up.

“What are you on about?” asked Sirius angrily. “I am the reason you two are– are- are here.” He wouldn’t say the other word, it had been almost fifteen years and Sirius never used that word when it came to James.

“But you were-”

“Nothing makes up for the fact that I was a coward for backing out of being the Secret Keeper,” confessed Sirius as he took a deep breath, he had never said that out loud before. He was a coward and he got his brother and his wife killed because he couldn’t just step up for once. “It should have been me and I should have died for you after all the things you had done for me.”

“I didn’t do those things for you to die for me Pads, I did them because you deserved them. Just like you deserved a happy life, with or without us,” argued James as he pushed his glasses up to rub his eyes softly. James Potter didn’t like crying, Sirius remembered clearly.

“We can play the blame game forever Jamie, just for once in your life, let me take the fall for you because this time, I need to,” begged Sirius. “Also we forget who the real culprit is because we are like that, we never let another take the fall.”

James smiled warmly at him and Sirius tipped his head to the right to look at Regulus who was now hiding behind Lily, there was no point in avoiding him anymore.

“And may I ask what the hell you are doing here, Reggie?” demanded Sirius angrily. Regulus didn’t belong where James and Lily were, he didn’t deserve to be in the same place as them.

All three of them went silent, Lily and James were most possibly communicating telepathically and Regulus was just staring at his pale hands.

“He died so maybe someday someone might defeat Voldemort,” said Lily quietly and Sirius felt his world come crashing down around him, Lily wouldn’t have lied to make him better but how was that possible? The last time he checked Regulus was a Death Eater. He walked straight to Regulus to look into the identical grey eyes as his, it was almost like looking in a mirror.

“You did what?”

“I never planned it to be a suicide mission Siri but it was. He had-– I still can’t say his fucking name.” Regulus steadied his breathing and picked up from where he left off. “Voldemort had tortured Kreacher and left him to die. I just– I couldn’t find you anywhere so I took the matter in my own hands and ended up here.”

Sirius just gaped at his little brother. The boy he had blamed for being a pawn to his mother had died because of the small possibility that someday someone might defeat Voldemort and Sirius just assumed he died miserably.

“I am so proud of you, Reggie.”

Sirius saw the smile on Regulus’ face widen as he smiled back at him but he felt the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“I am sorry because I wasn’t there for you and because I didn’t protect you from them,” apologised Sirius. “I wasn’t a good brother to you because I was busy being a good brother to Jamie. It never occurred to me that I could do both and I am sorry for that.”

“You were what kept me here Siri, you were the reason I never moved on because I wanted you to know that I didn’t disappoint you,” babbled Regulus as he played with the loose strings of his clothes. “I did that to make you proud and to make up for all the things I did.”

“You are not leaving, are you?”

“No, I won’t leave before I see that man defeated,” replied Regulus with disgust in his voice.

Sirius pulled his brother in to bone crushing hug like he did when they were around 10 years old Walburga was having a particularly cruel day, Sirius hadn’t hugged Regulus like that since he was 12 and Merlin, it felt good.

“James?”

Sirius could hear the panic in Lily’s voice, not a lot of people knew that but Sirius knew Lily like the back of his hand, okay maybe his left hand but he did nevertheless. Sirius walked with James and Regulus to where Lily was standing rigidly and he saw Harry was now in the Headmaster’s room. Sirius and James had spent considerable time in that place.

Sirius looked down at his godson, he was wreaking havoc in Dumbledore’s room and yelling at the Headmaster with so much anger that Sirius felt like Harry got his temper from him, Sirius had never been subtle about showing his anger however this was different. Harry was yelling because of him and how he had had enough because apparently Sirius’ absence was the last drop for him and Sirius felt his heart drop to his stomach, he still had his heart after all, albeit not beating.

“Can I, um, see Moony from here?”

One question was all it took and before others could reply, Sirius could see Remus, Merlin knows where, with a good supply of Firewhiskey by his side as he stared into oblivion. Sirius slowly realised he was in the room where he kept Buckbeak, why would he shut himself up in that miserable place? Remus was rocking back and forth, Sirius hadn’t seen him do that since he was thirteen, he did that when he couldn’t handle everything going on around him.

He’s gone, he’s gone again. He’s gone.

It felt like all Sirius did was disappoint. The black sheep of the family, the coward that got James and Lily killed, the useless brother and constantly absent lover. Sirius hadn’t realised up until now that being with James meant that he would be without Remus. He had disappointed the man who loved him yet again, he never could do right by Remus and he had left him alone, again

Writing #4

Non-binary Sirius!
-
Sirius entered the common room. They could see comfortable sofas, armchairs and pillows absolutely everywhere, and a main fireplace. There were windows looking out on the grounds, and they could see the grass and flowers still sprinkled on the ground, and the lake they had just come through. Looking back into the room, Sirius observed portraits and books. Then they saw the two staircases.
Two.
Presumably, they thought, one leading to the girls’ dormitories, and one leading to the boys’…
“Hey!” a loud voice exclaimed, interrupting their thoughts. Sirius turned around to see James smiling widely and looking around excitedly. “I had no idea it would be this big! Look, there’s where we’re not going to do our homework, and that’s where we’ll plan pranks, and here…”
James’ voice faded as Sirius started to panic. There were TWO staircases. And they were NOT a boy, or even a girl.
Shit. Shit shit shit. They had never come out to anyone about who they truly were. What if they had to put on a huge fake smile and just go up the stairs to the boys’ dormitories with James? What if the stairs rejected them? Sirius had heard rumors about stairs turning into slides if you weren’t the right gender. The staircases to come up here were already hectic, so they were ready to believe anything. Even worse, what if they WERE allowed to go up? Would that mean… that they weren’t actually non-binary?
Fuck, now Sirius was questioning their entire existence. What if this was what people would think it was: just a phase, or a way to rebel from their parents? No. They weren’t a boy. And they weren’t a girl. They were… somewhere in between. They still hadn’t figured it out yet, but Sirius still cringed when people called them by he/him pronouns. This wasn’t the time to think about how much they hated that, though, because James was tugging on their sleeve and leading them to Remus and to the staircase.
“James, I- James…”
“What is it? Come on, I wanna go see the size of the beds!”
“I- I don’t…”
Sirius was looking around frantically, trying to find an excuse to extend their time in the common room. They were trying to smile as if everything was fine and they had just spotted something cool behind James’ shoulder, but James could see how worried Sirius looked.
“Hey, man, what is it?”
Sirius grinded their teeth.
“Um, well… don’t you want to go explore the castle first? Right, Remus?”
Sirius looked around James at Remus. Remus had seemed the sort of person they could trust, a kind individual who laughed softly and looked at everyone with a certain happiness.
“Uhhh… I guess?”
“Exactly! Let’s go- let’s go explore!”
“But, Sirius… Didn’t the headmaster tell us to go to bed?”
“Well, Remus, this’ll be our first bit of rule-breaking! Are you guys in?”
“Are you okay, Sirius?” James asked, concerned. “You look nervous about something.”
“Of course! I’ve just never gotten out after my bed time, is all!”
James and Remus exchanged looks.
Suddenly, Peter, another person Sirius had met on the train, showed up and planted himself in front of James.
“H-hey James! I heard we were in the same dorm! Wanna go see?”
“Yeah, let’s go see where we’re placed, Sirius, then we’ll sneak out,” James promised, then turned and started up the stairs with Peter. Obviously, the stairs didn’t reject them and they went up a bit further before sticking their heads into a doorway and loudly exclaiming.
“Wow! You’ve gotta come see this!” James called.
Remus, still downstairs, turned his head to look at Sirius for a second before yelling “We’ll be up in a second!” and grabbing Sirius by the bicep. Remus brought Sirius into a darker part of the empty common room and sat down on an armchair.
“What’s going on, Sirius?”
Sirius moved their eyes up from the ground but kept their head down. They rubbed their nose and ran their hand through their hair.
“Is it something about not wanting to be in a dorm with us? You can tell me, I won’t be offended,” Remus said as he took his turn at looking down at the carpet.
“No, that’s… that’s not it at all. I just, uh… I…”
They were going to have to tell Remus. With no preparation, no ideas on how how to break it to him, no courage. They had not planned on coming out this way at all. They just couldn’t do this, they couldn’t tell him about not being a boy or a girl. They were rocking slowly on the sofa cushion now, thinking this over, and a silence established itself. They could tell Remus was going to give them as much time as necessary to tell him what was wrong. But Sirius just couldn’t do it! They had only just met Remus and they actually didn’t really know what he was like. What if he had grown up in a homophobic and transphobic and everything-phobic family like theirs? What if he had opinionated retorts? What if he completely rejected Sirius? What if he told everyone?
Sirius had too many questions and too many doubts. They just couldn’t do this.
“I’m- I’m sorry. I can’t tell you right now.”
Remus was looking at them strangely. Sirius could almost see the cogs turning in his mind, trying to figure why they wouldn’t want to go up the staircase.
“Oh. Oh! Is it… I don’t know if you’ll find it’s weird, or offensive, that I thought this could be the reason why you don’t want to go up there, but… are you trans?”
Taken aback, Sirius looked up surprisingly. Their brows were high on their face.
“Um… that’s…”
“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry, oh my gosh. Uh- well- um, I’m sorry-”
“No, it’s… it’s fine… it’s just that that’s not exactly it…”
Remus’ naivety had saved them. He must have been brought up in a really positive and accepting family to assume that Sirius wouldn’t be at least disgusted by his assumption. Remus definitely hadn’t seemed grossed out himself at potentially having a transgender roommate, so wasn’t that a good sign? He had just seemed so worried that he had offended Sirius, not that there was anything offensive about being trans. Sirius was smiling now.
“No, it’s just that I- I’m not trans, I’m… I’m non-binary. I’m… actually not sure what I am, exactly, but I’m just- I’m not a boy. So… I don’t- I don’t know where to go.”
Remus was open-mouthed, but his expression disappeared quickly to be replaced by a warm smile.
“Oh. Okay, well, I just- I wondered if you were nervous for the same reason as me, because I’m- I’m trans and I’m really scared the stairs won’t let me up.”
They were both grinning nervously now.
“That… that problem is still there, though. And James and Peter are expecting us…” Sirius trailed off, and they both started panicking again about where they had to go, or if they even had beds for themselves.
Sirius picked at some strings coming out of the armchair they were sitting on. There seemed to be only two options: stay down here and wait for Peter and James to ask them a million questions, or try to go up the stairs.
“I don’t doubt that you’re a real boy, Remus, so you would be able to go up, but I’m… I’m not. There’s no staircase for someone that’s neither a boy nor a girl.”
All of a sudden, a voice “tut-tutted” behind Remus. Sirius looked up to see a portrait of a person wearing period clothing and a large hat, waving their finger.
“You just have to look for it, Sirius,” said the person in the portrait.
“I… who are you?”
“I’m Sarah. Unfortunately, in my time, I was not allowed to change my name, so people usually treated me as a girl, when I am not one. I was faced with this same problem when I came to Hogwarts, dear. The staircase reveals itself to those who need it, and it will offer you a choice: you can choose a special room, just for you, or you can choose a pathway to friends whom you know will accept you. I chose the staircase to my best friend’s room, and he ended up being… not who I thought he was. But Remus here, he’s a boy, and you already know he is accepting of any gender. He will be able to go up the boys’ stairs, and you will find the special staircase.”
“I…”
Sirius was surprised. They had never heard of non-binary people in olden days. They would have to talk more to this Sarah to learn about their experiences.
“Where is the staircase?”
“I told you, dear, you’ll find it on your own, once Remus has left the common room,” Sarah said, and then they turned to Remus. “You’ll be able to go join your friends upstairs, sweetie.”
Sarah smiled warmly and promptly walked out of their portrait.
Sirius was still wide-eyed. A portrait had just directly spoken to them and told them what to do. The portraits at home just fired off curses and insults.
“So…” Remus smiled. “I’ll see you upstairs?”
“I… yeah, I… I guess.”
Remus put a hand on their shoulder and then walked to the boys’ stairs. He took a deep breath and climbed the first few steps. Nothing happened. He grinned, looked at Sirius one more time, and disappeared up the steps.
Everyone had gone up to bed now, and Sirius was alone. They looked around the room, trying to find a clue, but they didn’t have to search long before hearing a “click” between the two normal staircases. They turned around and saw a wall separating, revealing a small set of steps leading up to a source of light. Sirius gathered their courage and made their way to the other side of the room and up the stairs. The wall closed behind them.
They were in a small lounge, chairs and couches everywhere, and they could see an open door. Beyond that door was a room containing a few beds and a sink. Everything was decorated lavishly, and everything was clean and non-dusty, although this room didn’t seem to be used very often. But what caught their attention was another, spiralling set of stairs, leading up into the ceiling. They guessed that whichever friend they thought of, this staircase would lead them to them. Sirius was ready.
They concentrated hard on Remus, with his messy light brown hair and warm, amber eyes, and started up the stairs.

My Virgin Sacrifice


Pairing: Lucifer X Reader
Warnings: Smut, DaddyK!nk, bossy!Lucifer, blood, bad language.
Summary: Y/n is witch who is being sacrificed to Lucifer. In a twisted chain of events there is a wicked witch, a good witch, and a handsome devil. 
Author’s Note: Hi everyone! My drabble Sinful for Lucifer took off so well these last few days, and since I can’t get the Devil out of my head, I decided to give you guys a whole story. I am not sure if it any good, but let me know. I hope you like it. As always, please see my page for more of my work, and look for the master-list which should be out very soon!
Word count of story: Approximately 2500 words


    Your grandmother was a witch, just as your mother was. You had grown up with a love for witchcraft sprouting from their teachings at a very early age. Of course, your family and home coven stayed far away from anything too sinister and dastardly for obvious reasons. Curses, hexes, and demons tended to backfire, or at least end very badly for the witch. Especially when hunters got involved.
    As you grew older you grew fonder of the idea of traveling, absorbing all the knowledge and wisdom you could across the lands. And with a lifted heart and demeanor, you did. Seeing everything you could-learning all you could-of evil and good. But even you could tell that the world was shifting. Demons became more and more frequent, hauntings became more and more deadly, and good witches became few. Even the hunters began to fizzle out one by one. By the time your grandmother left this earth and your mother took control of the coven, rumors had begun to spread about the rise of the true king.
The true one to rule hell and all those that belong to hell. The archangel that had started and would restart the war between Heaven and Hell.
                                   

                                                  Lucifer.

Growing worried for your mother and the good of your coven you returned home, only to find your coven in a state of power-hungry, evil infused paranoia under the charge of a lady who called herself Sirena. Sirena was a force you had never met before. She was cunning and vindictive, and seemingly all knowing. Sirena was quick to punish those she doubted and the returning daughter of the head witch she had overthrown was just that. An opponent to test her power and dedication to her King Lucifer.

     She had attacked you before you had time to even register what had happened.  And after you lay bruised and battered on the ground, she commanded those who used to be your trusted friends to help her bind you.

“Y/n, it’ll all be fine. Lucifer will be every so gracious of your sacrifice. Why, he might even be as gracious as to grant our coven everlasting favor in the courts of Hell! Think of the good you’ll be doing here!” Sirena preached to you as she pulled the ropes tighter to your skin.

“I didn’t sign up for this, Sirena. You know that! You have taken a peaceful coven, and turned all these women vengeful,” You say as you struggle against the bonds that hold your hands and feet.

“Oh sweetheart, that was what your mother thought too, but you’ll see. Everyone will see. I’ve finally perfected the perfect spell, and it’s sure to reach our King’s ears this time,” she said with a wicked laugh. She back away from you to pick up a long-curved dagger from the table nearby. “Just think about it,” she started with another awful cackle, turning back towards you as she played with the knife, “you’re the perfect sacrifice! I mean before I killed your mother, I had heard about her talk about you to the others. You’re still pure-in more ways than one.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” you cried, swinging your gaze to your once friends who stood facing you on the far wall, pleading with your eyes for them to save you.

 “Oh Y/n, that won’t work. They are no longer easily persuaded. Now, back to the matters at hand. You know exactly what I mean when I say ‘pure’. You’re still pure of heart, in fact you almost have a childlike sense of wonder,” Sirena pressed the dagger under your chin, forcing your head up and your eyes to hers. “You also have never been-bedded, to put nicely. So innocently pure. A virgin sacrifice for the King. How classically polite.”

   Your eyebrow raised automatically. The bitterness of the situation finding you now, “You polite or nice? I’ve known you five minutes and I’m tied to a chair being sacrificed because I’ve never been ‘bedded’.”

  Sirena’s smile twitched and you watched as her eyes glazed over for a split second before her hand moved. In that second, she moved and you felt the cold sting of the blade across your cheek. When she pulled back again, the dagger was lined with blood, and Sirena? She was looking quite proud of herself.
       “Fine, fucked. You’re just as picky as your mother was. I was trying not to offend your delicate ears, but now I don’t care. With this offering of your blood, Lucifer will practically praise me. That is of course after he rapes and devours you,” Sirena cackled.

She began reciting a spell you in a language not even you had ever heard, but you couldn’t really pay attention to any of that. Your face and your body hurt. Your mother was dead, and your coven betrayed your family. Your life was officially sucking right now, and you could give a damn less what else was happening around you.
A bright light in the room caught your attention, if not for the simple fact it practically blinded you. Sirena began laughing again, spinning and clapping, searching the room with her eyes. She turned to you when the light completely faded with a scowl.


  “It didn’t work!” she raged. “How could have not worked? You slut! You must have fucked someone, or else it wouldn’t have worked. You filthy whore liar! I’ll-“


“Now, now, let’s not be quick to kill anyone, especially my sacrifice,” a cold male voice said filling the room.


       “My King!” Sirena said dropping to her knees. “I apologize for disturbing you, but I thought this sacrifice would prove my willingness to serve.”


  “No, it doesn’t,” Lucifer says stepping into the dimly lit room.

Originally posted by missviciderossignol


When your eyes found his, you almost gasped. He was gorgeous. He was blonde headed and freckled, lean but built, and he had a very arrogant bad boy nature. He regarded you in a calm, distant expression, but it didn’t seem to be one of hate. His eyes seemed to glow back at yours for a second more before he shifted his attention back to Sirena, his look darkening.


“I am trying to plan and carry out the Apocalypse-or did you forget that?” he asked Sirena pacing closer to where she was standing near you.


“I apologize King, I thought she would please you.”


“She looks-quite tasty, but that is not the point. Disturbing me is very rude, when you could have come to me like every other damn demon has with their signs of loyalty. Instead you summon me? Do you have any idea what I was in the middle of?”


“I am truly sorry, it won’t happen-” Sirena began, but Lucifer swiftly cut her off with a hand to her throat. 


The glow of his eyes seemed to brighten and he hauled her into the air with one hand. “Oh,” he said coldly, “I know it won’t.”

Just then Sirena emitted a beam of light from every orifice of her body. Lucifer pretty much burning her from inside out, and casting her lifeless body aside. He turns to you with a raised brow and relaxed look.

  “I loathe power hungry twats who disturb others, don’t you, love?” he asks almost nicely.

You blink back at him for a second before replying, “L-love?”

Lucifer doesn’t answer your question. Instead he comes closer to you expecting your bruises and cut up face. He runs his hands across your bonds, and you feel them dissipate. “No running, pet. Daddy has to heal you and take you home,” he says almost absentmindedly placing his hands on your face.

“Excuse me, what?”  You ask just as the warm feeling over takes you. It spreads through your body, making it hum and shiver, and you shift just slightly in your seat. Lucifer’s eyes connect with yours again and it’s as if he’s warning you to stay still with just his gaze.

The feeling intensifies as it spreads, and soon your body is on high alert, but tired at the same time. You feel your eyes begin to shut of their own accord. Right before the blackness of unconsciousness takes you, you hear Lucifer’s voice once more.

    “Now, let’s get you home.”

Originally posted by lucifersagents

   You awoke atop of a king size, black satin covered bed in a dark room. You no longer hurt, but you didn’t know where you were. You weren’t even sure if what you thought had happened had really happened. That would be ridiculous, right?

“It might be for an average human, but not you,” a cold voice that you were becoming all too familiar with said. Glancing up to find Lucifer starring down on you, you almost screamed, but he had already raised a hand to silence you. “I will not hurt you, Y/n. I promise. I even healed your wounds for you, pet.”


“Oh, just stop it with the ‘pet’ stuff already. We both know the only reason you are interested in me is because of that stupid ritual and the fact I am a virgin. I am not yours,” You spat out before you could think to stop yourself.


You watched Lucifer’s eyes darken menace and almost gulped in fear. “I assure you, that isn’t true. In fact, you are mine and I will prove it,” he said darkly.


“You just said you wouldn’t hurt me!” You accuse him quickly.


“And I won’t, but let me show you why you should belong to me.”


You mauled it over for a second. It would if nothing else prevent something like this from happening again, and after his virgin sacrifice infatuation wore off that was the only risk here. He did promise not to hurt you. You looked back at him and nodded. “Okay.”


You were pushed back against the black satin sheets, your arms falling to rest by your head. Your legs spread of their own accord, unable to hide the sudden arousal caused from the angel above you. 


 Lucifer hovered above you, leaning down to capture your lips in a searing kiss. You moaned into his mouth as his teeth tugged on your lower lip. One hand snaked up to tangle in your hair, using it to roughly pull your head back so he could access your neck. You gasped and closed your eyes as his teeth grazed your skin and found a soft spot you never knew existed.

Originally posted by tess453


Obliviously, Lucifer had done this before. You had not. Starting to feel a bit insecure, you brought your hands up to push back against him, but he wouldn’t budge.


“Lucifer,” you gasp, trying again. “I’m not good enough for this I barely know how to kiss.”


“Don’t even think about it like that, pet,” He ordered silkily as his jean clad hips ground against yours, his manhood already hardening. 


You wrapped your legs around his waist, almost automatically, with a desperate gasp for more affection, or attention, or really anything you could get. One of his hands cupped a breast, squeezing and kneading, while his lips found the curve of the other. He sucked your skin into his mouth, his tongue leaving a cold fire across your skin. You tightened your legs around his waist, feeling a sudden wetness pooling between your legs. And in response, Lucifer ripped the shirt from your body.


He chuckled at your attentive responses, grinding his hips against yours. His hand slid from your breast down your side, his fingers a seductive dance on your skin. 


“So responsive for me, pet,” he murmured, kissing his way back up to your neck. He sucked on your neck and as his fingers slid into the waistband of your jeans and ripped those off as well causing you to moan. “That’s my girl,” he grunted, biting your neck. He pulled back and smiled proudly at the dark hickey he’d left on your skin, marking you as his woman for all eternity.


He worked his hand down to your wet heat slowly, and thrust a finger into you, his slow pace never faltering as you wiggled and bucked against him. His hips helped to keep yours steady while he worked you with his hand, his other hand tugging at your hair and his lips alternating between decorating your neck and devouring your now naked breasts.


  You felt a foreign knot building in your belly, but before it could burst, Lucifer removed his finger. You whimpered shamelessly at the loss of contact and he chuckled darkly. He hovered above you, angling his hips so that his manhood rubbed against your entrance, and you noticed you had completely missed how he had gotten his jeans off.  Finding yourself not caring, however you tried your best to hint to him that you needed him with your body.


He growled back at you when he noticed your slight shimmies for his attention and sprung on you like a wild tiger. His lips attacked your skin, as he rubbed his manhood through your wetness. The contact rubbed against your clit, causing your hips to jerk upwards.


“That’s right, kitten. Let Daddy take care of you,” he instructed, sitting back and using his hands on your hips to help position you. You complied, finding little shame anymore in Lucifer’s arms.


Lucifer positioned himself above you, his hands on your hips as he thrust into your sex slowly. You moaned at feeling him inside you, and although slightly strange-there was no pain. Your legs began spreading more to entice him further. He understood, pushing in as far as he could. His hands gripped your hips bruisingly as he pulled almost all the way out and slammed back in. Working you over very well for your first time. You moaned loudly and your hands gripped the pillow, all of your senses gone. All you could focus on was Lucifer pounding into you like he owned you. This archangel making you his prize.

Originally posted by palehand


  He leaned over you, one hand tangling in your hair and tugging your head forward. You mewled and turned your head to meet his lips in a possessive kiss. He sucked your tongue into his mouth as he continued his thrusts. While you were lost in his kiss, the hand on your hip slid forward between your folds to rub mercilessly at your clit, earning a string of loud whorish moans from your lips which he eagerly swallowed. 


The knot in your belly exploded, your orgasm gushing. He kept his pace causing you to drag your nails down his toned chest. His hands gripped your hips so he could thrust his hips into yours, his pelvis striking your clit with each thrust, sending your orgasm skyrocketing upwards yet again.


Your name fell from his lips like a moaned prayer, the sound making you moan in return. “Please…” You stammered, wrapping your arms around him. “I-I… I can’t…”


“Not yet.” He ordered and you struggled to take a ragged breath, in a failed attempt to get a hold of yourself. “You are absolutely delicious, pet,” He informed you. “So responsive, so willing.”


“Please….” You whispered. “Just… please.”


“I’m sorry, what was that? Who are you talking to, Little Girl?” He asked innocently.


“Lucifer, please I need you…” You pleaded, grinding your hips up as best as you could. He grunted, but still did not relent. 


“No, pet. What is my name?” He demanded once more, slowing his pace almost completely.


You groaned out, frustrated, but completely turned on. “Daddy, please!”
“Much better, pet.” He growled and without pause, he was buried up to the hilt inside of you once more. You couldn’t help the shriek that was pulled from your lips as he began to brutally slam into you. His lips once again lock onto your chest, sucking. You barely notice as your hands wrap around his back nails digging into skin. “Moan for me, Little Girl.” He grunts, hitting that spot deep inside you.

Originally posted by sensuous

“Daddy!” You manage to choke out as he hits that spot with every thrust.


“I can’t hear you.” He punctuates each word with a snap of his hips.


“Daddy!” You scream as the knot that was building once more explodes, cause your whole body to jerk. Lucifer’s own orgasm followed yours, and as he cried out with you, he held you close as he worked you both through it, slowly. When you both had finally calmed down, he withdrew and looked at you. His next words shocking your ecstasy ridden body.


“If you think you are leaving me, Y/n, you are wrong. You are mine. Forever. My virgin sacrifice.”


Originally posted by sparkling-lucifer

“Forget" Negan x Reader

Words: 3,788

Negan x Reader

Request: Can I make a Negan x reader request? So like where Negan is injured or something and the reader finds him unconscious on the side of the road and takes him to her house to patch him up. When he wakes up Negan has temporarily lost his memory so he stays at the reader’s place. Whilst she takes care of him she falls in love with him, but is terrified that he doesn’t feel the same and will just leave her when he gets his memory back. Thank you!!!

Warnings: Language. Blood. Mentions of death. Alcohol usage. Implied smut. Some inappropriate conversations/talk of sex. Fluff

Originally posted by fallenhuntersx


“Fuck!” You hear a voice yell from a distance. There are a few other male voices that follow, but they are incoherent.

You stop in your tracks, cocking your head in the direction of the yelling. Part of you begins to feel worried- the yelling was going to attract walkers, and the last thing you needed was to fight a herd of walkers alone. You’re out hunting a mile away from your house, and you don’t have enough bows with you to take on very many.

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Disposable pt 15

Being friends with benefits with Min Yoongi can be complicated (at best) by itself. But when you accidentally tell your family (and his boss) that the two of you are dating, things get messy. It only complicates things more when you blackmail Yoongi into pretending to date you, and neither of you can quite keep your feelings separate, no matter how much you try.

Angst, fluff, slight smut at times.

Yoongi x Reader

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14


Once you got a grip of yourself, you made your way back outside to the party. You avoided Yoongi for the rest of the night, busying yourself talking to anyone but him. Part of you wanted to demand to know why he always had to hurt you, and what you had ever done to deserve it. Another part of you wanted to crawl under the covers of your bed and cry while eating ice cream. Neither were options at the moment, so you settled for evasion. Not that Yoongi was making that very easy, he kept trying to talk to you. He would catch your elbow and ask if he could have a minute, and you would blow him off every time.

“I’m busy.” You said for what had to be the tenth time that night.

“You’re really not, this time. Please, can you just tell me what’s going on with you?” Yoongi pleaded. His eyes looked genuine, and you realized that all the smiles and laughter from the previous day must have been all a show—maybe so it would all hurt that much more when it was over. You guessed you should have known, from the day you first met Namjoon for lunch you had seen that Yoongi was a good actor. In the back of your mind, a little voice was saying that it was your fault for blackmailing him in the first place, because who wouldn’t want revenge in some way after that?

“Nothing is ‘going on’ with me. Don’t you have someone else you can bother?”

Yoongi’s eyes flashed with hurt, and he dropped the hand that was holding your arm. “I don’t get it, what did I do?”

You let out a sigh of frustration. “I said we would talk later.”

You could see the beginnings of annoyance on Yoongi’s face, which just furthered your own. He was the one who was always going out of his way to hurt you, but you don’t want to talk to him for once and he gets his feelings hurt? It wasn’t fair, none of it was, and you realized you didn’t even have anyone to talk to about it. The only person who knew your whole situation with Yoongi was Jackson, and he had left abruptly several hours earlier. He said something about getting an urgent phone call and ran off before you ever got a chance to talk to him.

Taehyung was waving to you, and you walked over to where he sat slightly reluctantly. He was holding his cat, the one he twisted his ankle rescuing, kissing its head before looking back at you. “What’d he do?” He asked. You weren’t particularly happy with Taehyung at the moment either, as long as he had known you (and your mother) you felt like he should have known better than to repeat what Yoongi said to your mother, but you knew that it must have been an accident. Your mother was good at getting exactly whatever information she wanted out of someone, and if Taehyung hadn’t given it to her, someone else would have eventually.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You said tersely. Taehyung rolled his eyes at you, scratching behind the cat’s ears.

“You look like you want to punch Yoongi every time you look at him.”

“You know what, Taehyung? Our relationship really isn’t any of your business. In fact, it isn’t any of anyone’s business, so I don’t know why everyone has to know everything about it all of the time.”

“You’re mad at Yoongi, not me, remember?” Taehyung raised his eyebrows.

“No, I’m mad at everyone who seems to think they have some right to know everything about my life. I shouldn’t have to justify everything I do to everyone I know.” Maybe some of your anger was misplaced, but you couldn’t be bothered to care at the moment. You turned on your heals and walked away from where a completely bewildered Taehyung sat. You didn’t bother to talk to anyone you passed by, ignoring their attempts to gain your attention. You passed Jungkook walking up the stairs to go inside, and he caught your eye for a moment.

“Are you okay?”

“I wish people would stop fucking asking me that.” You snapped as you walked passed him.


The bedroom door clicked behind Yoongi, but he didn’t move further into the room. The party had finally ended, and you still weren’t talking to him. He had decided that maybe he should just let you have your space, but you still had to share a room.

You were on your phone when he walked in, and looked up briefly to scoff and roll your eyes before turning your eyes back to the screen.

“Look, if I did something, you have to talk to me. Just being angry isn’t going to fix anything.” He said, trying to contain his own annoyance. You were being a child, and he really didn’t have the patience for it right then.

“Right, like that would do any good. You just want to hear how miserable I am. You’re a fucking sadist.”

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