is that a key on his neck

Dinner // H.S.

I open the oven and take out the chicken before turning it off and attending to the green beans on the stove. I fan myself with a nearby magazine to cool my skin. It’s hot. Too hot. I leave the stove after checking that the knobs are all correctly turned, walking over to the living room to turn the temperature down a few degrees. As I turn to make my way back to the kitchen, I hear the jiggling of keys and the click of the lock. A few seconds later, the door opens to reveal a very exhausted Harry.

“Hey, baby. How was your day?”

He scoffs and drops his messenger bag onto the floor before collapsing into a chair at the dining table.

“Not the best, (y/n).”

I walk over and stand behind him, rubbing his shoulders and neck lightly. He had been in the studio every day for the past two weeks and I’ve been noticing how stressed he is. They’ll be touring before we know it and it’ll only get worse.

“How come?”

“We were supposed to be done today, but I kept screwing up this one verse. We ended up just leaving for the day, so we’ll all have to go back tomorrow and-“ he sighs and rests his face in his palms, “I’m just so out of it.”

“You’ll get it tomorrow and it’ll be done early in the day. We’ll do something to celebrate, I promise.” I remove my hands from his shoulders and walk back into the kitchen to make plates for us both. “But, for now, how about we eat, yeah?”

He forces a grin and stands up to join me in the kitchen, opening the fridge and pulling out a beer bottle.

“Y/N, you want anything to drink?”

“Erm, yeah, grab me a beer as well.”

He does so and brings them to the table, along with silverware. I fill our plates with chicken, green beans, and salad before joining him at the table. He sits across from me, but he’s not so far since the table is more of a small square. We start to eat in silence and I mostly watch him stare at his plate and I can tell he’s beating himself up over his little mistakes. I already know there’s nothing I can say to comfort him, but I do know something that I can do. He’ll never admit to it, but he absolutely loves being possessive, and I know I shouldn’t like it, but it’s basically the hottest fucking thing he does. He does need a distraction.

“So, work was interesting today.”

I smile wickedly at him and he finally looks at me.

“Oh yeah? What happened?”

I look down and push my green beans around with my fork, still grinning deviously.

“There’s this new guy at the office; he’s quite cheeky. He kept showing up at my cubicle to talk to me and he’s really quite handsome. He even went out and got me Starbucks.”

I glance up and he is staring at me now, his fists balled up on the table. I try to hide my excitement, but I can see the jealousy burning in his eyes.

“Really. And what else?”

I look up innocently and flip my hair over my shoulder. He’s impatiently awaiting my reply.

“He asked me on a date.”

In all honesty, I laughed in Tommy’s face, pointing at the picture of Harry and I on my desk. He was disappointed, but I could really care less. I already have the man of my dreams and I couldn’t ask for anything more. For the sake of my desire to have Harry fuck me on this table, I lie straight to his fuming face.

“I said I’d think about it.”

I pretend to think little of my response, putting one last bite of chicken into my mouth before deciding I’m done. I look up and his face is red, his eyes narrowed and dark. I pick up my plate and carry it nonchalantly to the sink. I rinse it off, and dispose of the few leftover pieces. As soon as the water shuts off, I feel two large, warm hands grasp onto my hips. Harry presses his crotch into my behind and I try to hold back a moan, but the tightness of his pants against my thin yoga pants is too much. I turn to face him and immediately, he roughly pulls my shirt over my head, letting it fall to the counter next to the sink. He doesn’t kiss me, but presses his lips to my neck instead, pulling the skin between his teeth and sucking harshly. A bruise appears quickly and he releases my neck, rolling his tongue over it soothingly. His mouth finds its way to my ear next as his hands run over my torso before reaching to my back and unhooking my bra.

“This mark is proof that you’re mine.”

He hisses the last part in my ear making my legs feel like jello. His hips push into me harder than before, holding me up between him and the counter. I don’t respond to him, because I don’t want him to be done yet. If I agree, he might just return to his dinner. Instead, I maintain a straight face so that he creates similar hickies on each of my breasts, the contact causing me to pant uncontrollably. My chest rises and falls under his mouth and I feel myself get incredibly wet. I wrap my arms around him, tugging at the hem of his shirt, but he grabs my wrists, slamming them against the cupboard and pinning them there. The harsh contact with the wood makes me cry out, but I love the feeling.

“I’m going to show you, Y/N. You’re mine. No one else’s.”

He flips me around and pushes my back down so that my chest is flat against the freezing countertop. I feel his warm fingers hook onto my pants and thong, pulling them down and leaving them at my ankles. I try to turn around to look at him, but he presses my cheek onto the cold granite. He removes his hand, but I don’t dare move my body, no matter how curious I am. I see from the corner of my eyes as his shirt falls to the floor. I close my eyes and gulp as I hear the zipper of his jeans and the light noise of the material hitting the floor. One of his hands grips onto my hip as I feel his hard member between my thighs. I instinctively spread my legs shoulder width apart to give him room. I want him so badly and he doesn’t even realize what I’m doing. That’s the point. I want jealousy pumping through his veins the entire time. My eyes are still closed when he pushes himself into my entrance without any warning, making me gasp as he fills me up. My hands smack onto the surface, trying to claw at it. Once inside, Harry instantly pulls back, thrusting back in ten times harder than the first time. My lips part, resting against the counter, moans expelling as he continues to thrust, slowly out and very quickly in. His free hand runs up my back and finally reaches my head. He holds tightly to a tuft of my hair, pulling on it lightly. My head lifts from the cold surface and he bends down to run his lips along my shoulder. The position makes his thrusts hit the perfect spot, making me scream loudly. He pulls my hair again and I arch my back, lifting my chest off of the counter as well. His other hand leaves my hip and holds onto my breast instead, holding my body there.

“Say it, Y/N. Say you’re mine.”

I can’t speak. I can’t do anything but whimper and pant in pleasure. He slams into me, this time his hips slapping against my bottom and he stops there. I long for more friction. I need it.

“I’ll stay right here until you say it.”

He tugs at my hair again and leans down to nibble at my earlobe. His lips are tantalizing me even more.

“I’m yours, Harry! Please, fuck me!”

I can feel his devilish grin against my shoulder as he pulls his body back up to stand up straight as he continues the movement of his hips, making my jaw drop in ecstasy.

“All mine, Y/N!”

I feel my climax approach and moan loudly as his fingers reach around my thigh and rub tight circles around my clit.

“All yours, Harry! All yours! Ohh, god. I’m clossse!”

He gyrates his hips to hit my g-spot each time and the loud, deep groans escaping his throat send me over the edge. My legs shake and tremble when he slows his pace down, coming as he mumbles my name over and over under his breath. As we finish together, he pulls out and when he is no longer holding me up, I let myself fall to the floor. He pulls his pants up and joins me, sitting on the wooden floor and pulling me into his arms comfortingly, kissing my lips passionately. I try to catch my breath between kisses, finally resting my head on his shoulder and chuckling lightly.

“I guess I’ll say no to that date, then.”

Captain Steve Rogers, Lovecraftian Horror

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

***

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

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

Others, however…. 

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

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

(There is a readmore below! Read more!)

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tsundere (m)

Originally posted by nnochu

⇢ resident advisor! yoongi x reader, college au

⇢ word count: 11.2k

⇢ summary: according to the rumours, min yoongi is a bad apple- doesn’t take grades seriously, drinks as if he has two livers, a certified bad boy™. when you get paired up with him for a project, you’d never expect that someone like him would have a thing or two to teach you about life itself- and how it should be lived. 

⇢ warnings: angst, smut

🎵 song recommendation: something just like this by coldplay x the chainsmokers

a/n: finally something that isn’t pwp????? :”) 


Panic races through your veins and fills up your airway, causing your breathing to double itself, chest heaving in an attempt to calm yourself down. No, this can’t be happening, you chant to yourself over and over. The clock on your laptop is glaringly bright in the near darkness of your room, and the numbers burn themselves into the back of your eyelids. When you close your eyes, the uncomfortable stinging of your contact lenses makes your eyes water and at this point they might as well be tears of desperation.

It’s not like you’ve never had writer’s block before, you reason with yourself. You just have to start writing and edit along the way. Your own voice of reason is drowned out by the anxiety that echoes all the possible consequences of not acing this paper. It’s nearly 4 am and the essay you have so far in front of you is not enough to get an A, you know it in your bones but you can’t come up with anything better either. You could just submit this as it is, but anything less than an A on this paper would pull you down from the cusp of that ever elusive first class honours. And you can’t afford to graduate with anything less than that. The very thought of it sends a fresh chill of panic that creeps down your spine and jolts your fingers into a typing frenzy, spilling thoughts and ideas onto your screen till you reach the end of the page.

But when you read over what you’ve written, it doesn’t make sense at all, just incoherent rambling sentences strung together into a never ending paragraph. In frustration you shove your laptop away from you and push back your chair, reaching for your keys and phone. Sneaking a peek at your roommate’s still form across the room, you let yourself out of the room silently, feeling your tensed shoulders relax immediately as the cool night air embraces you with open arms.

It’s a little chilly to be out in just a long shirt and sleep shorts, but since there’s no one awake to catch you dressed like this, it’s the least of your concerns for now. The balcony that is attached to your room affords a little privacy, and it’s one of the perks of occupying the corner room on this floor. The tranquillity of the cold, autumn night directly contrasts with the millions of theories and concepts running through your mind, and any attempts at clearing your mind are failing pathetically. The residential halls are eerily silent at this time of the night, and as you glance down over the protective railings, you consider how easy it would be to just climb over, just one leg over and then-

“Late night?” You whirl around at the interruption of a raspy, gruff voice sounding from behind you. Your eyes are met with a figure clothed in an oversized sweatshirt and jeans, but it’s only when you squint in the darkness to survey his face that you realise who he is.

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Smooth Criminal

Officer!Bucky Barnes x Drunk!Reader

Summary: Bucky’s a cop and got called to a crime scene to arrest a criminal but he realizes the criminal is the person he’s dating

Word Count:1,892

Warnings: Police!Au, Language, Drunk Shenanigans, Major Floof

A/N: Written for Manu’s writing challenge, couldn’t help but write cop!Bucky again. @jurassicbarnes thank you for the fun opportunity.

Originally posted by uncensoredsideblog

It had been a quiet night for Officer James Buchanan Barnes and his partner. So far, they had to deal with a fight between two drunk men, an exhibitionist and a few reckless drivers.

Bucky had started his shift at 10 p.m. the previous night and it was now just after 4 a.m. He kept repeating ‘only two more hours’ like a mantra and tried to imagine you all wrapped up and sound asleep in your bed. He really wanted to be with you.

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Horror in Room 1046 

Just after lunch time on 2 January, 1935, a young man entered the Hotel President in Kansas City, Missouri. He had no luggage and asked if he could have a room for the night. He signed his name as “Roland T. Owen” was given the key for room 1046. Shortly afterwards, the maid arrived to clean the room. As she opened the door, she found the man sitting on the bed in the dark. Even though it was still light outside, he had tightly drawn the blind. She recalled that the man seemed somewhat afraid or nervous. As she was cleaning, he put on his coat and left the room, asking her to leave the door unlocked because he was expecting a friend to arrive later on. At approximately 4PM, the maid arrived at room 1046 to leave fresh towels for the evening. The man was lying on the bed with a note beside him which read: “Don, I will be back in fifteen minutes. Wait.

The following morning, the maid arrived once again to clean the room. Once again, she found the man sitting in the dark. As she cleaned around him, he took a call from “Don” and told him he wasn’t going to get any breakfast. Before she left, he began to question her about her role within the hotel and what duties she was to carry out. When she returned later on in the afternoon with more fresh towels, an unidentified male grunted that they didn’t need any. Later on in the afternoon, another guest reported hearing a woman’s voice coming from room 1046 and relayed that she sounded angry. At around 11pm that night, a man driving downtown saw a man running down the street in pants and a shirt - strange clothing choice for the brisk winter air, he though. The man asked the driver, who he initially mistook as a taxi driver, if he could give them a lift to somewhere that he could flag down a taxi. He noted that the oddly dressed man had a large wound on his arm and looked in a bad shape.

Back at the Hotel President the next morning, it was noticed that the phone in room 1046 was left off the hook. A bellboy was sent up to inform the guest. When nobody answered, he used a master key to enter the room. At first glance, he saw blood smeared over the walls and over the floor. In the bathroom, “Roland T. Owen” was on his knees with rope tied around his neck and wrists. He had been repeatedly stabbed and bludgeoned across the head. Still clinging to life, he said he had “fell against the bathtub.” He died later on that night. An investigation of the room turned up nothing. Not one piece of clothing could be found nor any complimentary hygiene products or towels. It was soon discovered that the man had given a fake name, thus his body was displayed at a local funeral home in the hopes that somebody could recognise him. The man who had picked up the bewildered hitchhiker the night before recognised him immediately. Multiple people from separate establishments, including other hotels and even a wrestling arena, came forward to identify him. However, each person that identified him said that he gave a different name.

As the weeks passed, the man remained unidentified, even though many could identify him by appearance. He was intended to be buried in the city’s cemetery for the unidentified but as locals caught wind of this, police received an anonymous letter from somebody who asked them to hold the burial off until they would be able to forward a hefty amount for a decent burial and funeral. Days later, the money came in and he was buried in Memorial Park Cemetery. A local florist also received an anonymous donation for a bouquet of flowers that were signed off with “Love Forever - Louise.” Other than a couple of investigators working on the case, nobody attended the funeral. 

The case remained cold until 1936, when Eleanor Ogletree read about the murder in a magazine. She believed the description of the man sounded like her brother, 17-year-old Artemus Ogletree, who had been missing since 1934. The family had assumed he was okay because in spring of 1935 - months after “Roland T. Owen” died - they had received several typewritten letters from Artemus, claiming he was sailing to Europe. The family were initially suspicious of these letters because Artemus couldn’t type. A few months after these letters, they received a phone call from a man who told them that Artemus had saved his life in Egypt and that he was happily married to a woman he had met in his travels.

The Ogletree family were shown a photo of the murder victim. It was Artemus, they unfortunately confirmed. His identification led to even more questions. Why had he used so many fake names? Who was the woman in his room? Who was Don? What happened to him the evening he was picked up by the driver, looking dishevelled? Who paid for his funeral? Who was Louise? Who sent the letters to his family? And finally, who killed him and why?

You Owe Me

Spencer Reid x Reader (smut)

Requested: Yes. You guys wanted a part two to Let Me Help and so I delivered ;)

Word Count: 1,811, Warnings: Swearing, NSFW, Oral Sex, Wall Sex, Just sex in general tbh.

A/N: So I seriously don’t know whether this is good or not lmao, I tried my hardest. I was listening to Feel It by Jacquees whilst writing it and just oh my god if you haven’t heard it please listen to it. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy it!

After you managed to catch the UnSub that was disfiguring women and stabbing them in the chest you and the rest of the team were heading back to Quantico on the jet. You sat down in the comfy, creme coloured chair and closed your unrested eyes as you heard the rest of the team load onto the jet. You hugged your form as the air conditioning pumped throughout the plane whilst getting ready for take off. You felt someone sit opposite you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to open your eyes. You were so tired from the long nights and the constant moving around that you just wanted to relax for once.

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Helplessness is watching a person you care deeply for deteriorate right before your eyes without having the means to help them.

Desperation is shouting for hours and hours at the top of your lungs for help until your voice is raw and throbbing.

Defeat is knowing that there’s nothing you can do. You’re stuck and forced to live day after day in a small, cold cell. Whatever hope of help coming is replaced with a numbness, a slow realization that this is how your life will end.

“Stop…. Pouting….”

Keith blinks back into reality at Lance’s weak, raspy voice. The latter is using his lap as a pillow, and Keith glances down to meet the brunet’s eyes.

“I’m not.” Keith answers, and despite Lance’s ashen face colored only with a deep flush across his cheeks, the brunet’s face lights up as a breathy laugh escapes.

“You literally… pouted when you… said that.”

On instinct, Keith moves to purse his lips out into a pout, but he catches himself and breathes out a low sigh instead.

He tilts his head back up to stare at the stone ceiling. How many days has it been now? Twelve, maybe? He lost track after Lance stopped eating, too worried to care about anything else but the brunet.

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Alluring Tune | m

Pairing: Yoongi x reader
Genre: Fluff, a lot of smut
Warnings: Mature content
Word Count: 4.5K

His voice was almost a whisper, warm breath hitting the shell of your ear. And the heat coupled with the slow, savory movements of his fingers overtop the thin fabric had an almost numbing effect, your mind drawing a blank as you enter an intoxicating haze.

“I thought there was no punishment?” you manage to say, swallowing back the moans that threatened to escape.
“This is a demonstration baby, not a punishment.”

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Feelings

Originally posted by shoot-the-smiley

Series: Tom Holland Imagines

Relationship: Tom Holland x Reader

Warnings: SMUT ASF. Also mentions of Domestic Abuse 

Request by: @talia-grace-daniels Imagine based on the song Feelings by Maroon 5 :) Also Incorporated @delish-duck ‘s request for the reader having an abusive boyfriend and Tom being protective

Word Count: 3,500

A/N: People fr need to stop coming after me in my messages. I know I write smut. I’m 20 years old and write this stuff for people who actually want to read it. That’s why I put warnings before the imagine starts so I don’t have to deal with messages but I still get them.. -.-

I’M 20 LEMMA WRITE MY SEXUAL THOUGHTS BOUT TOM. BYE.


ps. I used the word trousers because its fun to say? Let me live lmao


*Slides down the pole throwing the smut to you hungry darlings*



[Reader’s POV]


“Fucking asshole” you mutter throwing your phone onto your bed. Tears were falling down your cheeks. You couldn’t help it. Your boyfriend, well ex boyfriend now had been cheating on you for months.


   You caught him fucking her when you stopped by his apartment a day early. He thought you weren’t coming back so soon. You just got back from visiting the states and came home to heartbreak. It never occurred to you that he would be cheating on you. Everything felt fine and nothing seemed wrong.


   Wiping off the rest of your running makeup you wash your face. Looking at yourself was so pathetic. You were too blind to see his deceit and look at you now. Crying over someone you thought you loved. Letting out a sigh you head back towards your bed.


   Picking up your phone you click the home button. Using you Touch ID to open it up and click on the phone app. Scrolling through your contacts you click on your best friends contact. Putting the phone to your ear you hear the dialing tone. After a short few rings it stops.


“Hello love, what’s up?” Tom’s voice fills your ear making you smile. Tears spill over and you whimper from the pain in your chest forming again.

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things I picked up in my second watching of it that I missed/didn’t catch

-BEV HAS BRUISES ON HER ARMS IN THE SHAPE OF FINGERPRINTS IN THE SCENE OF HER IN THE BATHROOM (almost as if someone had been holding her down)


-pennywise starting to stutter as he dies and repeating bills anti stuttering tactic


-the television telling kids “playing in the sewers is fun, okay there with your friends” and something about finding clowns while Bev comes home with her tampons


-during the part with the projector ritchie running to hug Eddie when he was afraid


-eddie reaching for ritchies hand while hugging bill at the end but pulling away


-pennywise getting offended when his house was called a crackhouse


-bill face changing when he realizes it’s not georgie after “georgie” calls the boat an it


-bev wearing 3 rings at the beginning but at the end only has two (maybe a ring from her dad/promise ring?)


-the Tim Curry pennwise in the room of all the clowns


-what looks to be a painting of the original pennwise in the clown room also


-pennywise laughing at the end of the credits


-what looked to be a nesting area in the pile of children’s accessories


-patrick licking his lips and looking at ritchie, ritchie noticing and makes a joke but is obviously afraid


-pennywise’s eyes turning yellow whenever he’s hungry, at the end them being deep yellow and bloodshot (he hadn’t eaten in a while)


-the greywater is always a sign pennywise is close


-bev wearing an uncut key around her neck.


-pennywise saying fear as his last word may be referring that bill stutters when he’s afraid, and penn began to stutter when showing his first sign of fear.


anyone else pick anything up/have theories on why he said fear or anything else? aight I think that’s all later egg boys

SO

i would JUST LIKE to point out a few KEY THINGS:

1) Finn gets stabbed TWICE and is thrown across the drop pod during a thunder storm while foaming at the mouth

2) MURPHY????

3) Jasper is speared then hung up on a tree and then later got his neck sliced into

4) Raven is shot with the bullet pressing on her spine and loses feeling in her bottom half of her leg after going through multiple *life threatening* surgeries with no pain medication, she also suffered head trauma 3 times & bone marrow extraction w/ a drill and no meds????

5) fREAKinG MUrpHY

6) Bellamy is hanging upside down BLEEDING INTO TUBES FOR HOURS

7) Maya is exposed to radiation and comes back and SO DOES JASPER

8) Lincoln dies like three times and was a dang REAPER

9) Clarke was beaten to almost death all throughout the series

10) Indra gets SHOT over and OVER AGAIN

11) Abby AND MARcus are trapped underground after an explosion, then 2 cave ins and fucking GET OUT after Marcus already died

12) M U R P H Y

13) Jaha floats himself with no cord across the freaking outer space with HIS HELMET BUSTING BEING EXPOSED FULLY TO THE SPACE VACCUM, makes the landing, and flies down to earth in a broken piece of JUNK

14) EMERSON???

15) THEY LIKE ALL SWALLOW AI’S?? AND SURVIVE THE KILL SWITCH??

16) um…. all the people who surVIVED THE BOMBS IN THE FIRST PLACE

AND YOU THINK THE *COMMANDER* CAN BE TAKEN DOWN BY *ONE SHOT* BELOW THE CRITICAL TORSO AREA WTF SHE SLAYED THE QUEEN OF THE ICE NATION BY CHUCKING A SPEAR AT HER FROM ACROSS THE BATTLE GROUND, SHE’S FOUGHT SO HARD AND IS SO STRONG AND YOU THINK YOU CAN JUST KILL THE ONLY PERSON/BEST FRIEND/LOVER THAT NEVER STOPPED LOVING CLARKE FOR A SECOND, PLEGED HER LIFE TO HER VOWING TO PROTECT HER NO MATTER THE COST AFTER EVERYTHING SHE DID AND PUT 100 % OF HER TRUST IN HER EVEN AFTER LOSING COSTIA AND OPENED UP TO HER AND PROTECTED HER EVEN AFTER DEATH this is such bullshit

did i miss anyone ELSES INSANE COMPLETELY IMPOSSIBLE NOT PLAUSIBLE SURVIVAL?   

anonymous asked:

Dr Who but each incarnation is swapped with one of their companions.

omg?? I love it??

The First Doctor: 

She’s not completely unfriendly, exactly, she just doesn’t have time for humans being idiots. In the right circumstances, she can actually be very warm. She loves history, which is lucky because her granddaughter Susan does too (they tell people Susan is her daughter, but even then it’s a bit of a stretch, human ages are weird). Of course, then two of Susan’s teachers follow her home one night, and next thing the Doctor knows she has a crotchety old history teacher and a handsome young science teacher on her spaceship with no way to get rid of them that isn’t morally questionable. 

Whoops? 

The humans help her lose some of her haughtiness. She leaves Susan in the 22nd century to become her own woman. 

Along the way and against her better judgement, she falls hopelessly for Ian Chesterton. He wants to stay with her forever, but she knows it would never work, and encourages him to go with John Foreman in the Dalek Time Machine to get back to his own time. 

Later, in other lives, she checks in on him occasionally. 

The Second Doctor:

The baby face is a problem. It takes a good twenty minutes on a lot of occasions to get anyone to take her seriously. On the bright side, a lot of Polly’s clothes fit her now. 

She finds a best friend in Scotsman Jamie McCrimmon, whose rather naive approach to futuristic technology is extremely refreshing, as is his unique insightfulness. 

After Ben and Polly leave them, they rescue Victoria, who Jamie is utterly taken with. Victoria is unsure about living a life so unsupervised by someone older and won’t listen to the Doctor’s insistence that she is in fact perfectly qualified to look after them all. 

She and Victoria spend a good many nights aboard the TARDIS talking about women’s history and the things to come for women in the future and how women act on other planets. Victoria is fascinated, occasionally horrified, and often quietly thrilled at the things she learns. 

It’s a shame to see her go, but all she ever wanted was a family and security, and the Doctor can’t provide that. 

They meet an eccentric man on a space station, with funny trousers and an obsession with the recorder. The Doctor and Jamie like him instantly, and invite him on board only to learn that the man had been considering stowing away if not invited. 

The Time Lords take her friends away from her. She is forced to regenerate and exiled to Earth, as punishment for her interference. 

The Third Doctor: 

Shrewd, passionately devoted to science, and not one to take kindly to interruptions or anyone trying to talk down to or even disagree with her, it’s a wonder the Doctor even gets hired by UNIT at all. But then again, beggars can’t be choosers. 

On the bright side, this fellow John Smith from Cambridge seems to be the one person around with an actual brain and not just a penchant for attacking first and thinking later. 

They’re friends instantly. Or, they are once she makes it perfectly clear that she is the cleverer of the two. The look on his face when he realises is a memory she’ll treasure forever. 

He eventually leaves to go back to his own research, upon realising she doesn’t need him. 

It’s a shame and she misses him, but then Jo Grant comes into her life. Despite an awful first impression, the two women are soon fiercely devoted to each other. Jo keeps going on about women having to stick together amongst all the army boys, and while the Doctor could usually not care less about gender politics, if it means Jo hangs around her more, then so be it. 

The Master turns up. It’s exhausting and exasperating and oh so much fun

Meanwhile, the Doctor’s told herself to not let herself fall for humans, after how much Ian hurt. But with Jo, it’s impossible not to. (Not that she hasn’t noticed the Brigadier’s lingering stares, or failed to appreciate him in his uniform. But he’s far too professional to ever do anything, and too trigger happy besides.) 

Jo is like sunshine and she’s always there and smiling and pressing herself against the Doctor out of fear or shock, until one day they’re in the supply closet of a spaceship and they’re kissing furiously instead of listening out for their pursuers. 

It’s wonderful, being with Jo. Until Clive Jones comes along, and the Doctor has to tell her to forget about her and marry the nice young man who can grow old with her and give her the life she wants. 

She drinks more champagne than she is proud of that night. 

Luckily, along comes Sarah Jane Smith, who is exactly the kind of human that the Doctor automatically adores. Inquisitive, sharp, and a vocal feminist. What a woman. 

Of course, then giant alien spiders happen, and it’s time for a change.  

The Fourth Doctor:

Or… not. Apparently, she’s doomed to be young, attractive, humanoid, and pale skinned throughout all her lives. There are worse fates, but she wouldn’t mind a little variety, frankly. And being so small is getting infuriating. 

Harry takes a long while to take her seriously, but once he does, he is steadfastly loyal. Sarah Jane takes the regeneration in stride for the most part. 

And after them, Leela, who is so strange and savage but so utterly charming in her honesty. They share a few kisses, but nothing more. 

Then comes Romana. A young Time Lord who looks older than her, is far taller than is sensible, and has an even more absurd grin. She can’t stand him, with his bragging about his grades and thinking he knows everything. 

She soon teaches him that experience wins every time. 

Of course, then he spots some pretty princess on Tara, and next thing she knows, the moment the whole Key To Time mess is sorted, Romana is now a less taller, less ridiculous, utterly beautiful Time Lady in her first regeneration. 

She tries to argue against what she can only consider body theft, or at least copying, but it is a relief to not have to crane her neck up to speak to her companion. 

Romana becomes a most dear friend. She’s missed being around someone like her, someone who understands. It makes it all the worse when she leaves, leaving the Doctor with only Adric and his incessant questions. 

The Fifth Doctor: 

There’s something about this body, a regality, that commands a little more respect than the ones before it, despite it following the pattern of her others. 

Adric’s questions exasperate her, while Tegan’s demands to be taken home are met with gentle requests for patience and promises of Heathrow airport, and this Traken prince she’s picked up is thankfully one of the most polite people she’s ever had in the TARDIS. Decent brain on him, too. 

Tegan’s smile sometimes makes her stomach do backflips. The Doctor ignores it. She’s learned her lesson. It’s almost a relief to see Tegan reach her breaking point and leave, except it isn’t, because for a long while it feels like a part of her is missing. 

Turlough is a curiosity, but a nice one who makes for surprisingly good company in the absence of the others. 

Perpugilliam Brown is a surprise. The Doctor remembers why she has tried to avoid America where possible in her travels. Americans are loud. But in the case of Peri, it involves shouting at the Master, and as such, the Doctor decides that Perpugilliam Brown can stay as long as she likes. 

Between the two of them and soon Erimem, uncrowned Pharaoh of Egypt, they make quite the team.  


The Sixth Doctor:

It’s about time! Finally, a more weathered model. Peri is surprised to say the least, and seems a little disappointed to lose out on her best friend who had until now looked a very similar age to her, but soon realises very little has changed. 

And now she lets the Doctor take care of her a bit better. Thank goodness for that! The maternal instincts in this body are absurdly strong, she has no idea what she would do if she couldn’t express them. 

Now, the borderline narcissistic but quietly lovable history professor she accidentally picks up some time after losing Peri is a trickier matter. Still, at least he shares her love for chocolate cake. 

The Seventh Doctor: 

Bright, bubbly, and able to get most people to like her within ten seconds. Now this is a regeneration she likes. Plus, her most impressive set of lungs yet. Handy, for calling companions who like to wander off. 

She tries to not encourage Ace’s use of explosives, but it’s difficult when she sees how genuinely happy they make the girl. She’s getting soft in her old age, she knows. 

Still, at least her brain makes up for it. She can out-think a computer, easily. The universe is her chessboard and she’ll do whatever the hell she pleases with it. 

The Eighth Doctor: 

She’s a jolly thing. Always keen for adventure, ready to shout at anyone who deserves it, and just wants to have a good time, really. 

After a rather rocky start involving amnesia and kissing the cardiologist who had caused her regeneration in the first place, the Doctor is just minding her own business when she accidentally messes with history. 

It seems that saving this stowaway on the R101 might not have been the best idea after all. But he’s so charming and sweet and genuine, sharing her utter passion for life, that by the time she realises her mistake, she’s not willing to part with him. 

That goes… about as well as one might expect. 

The Ninth Doctor: 

It’s funny, being a weathered old war veteran with a guilty conscience, and simultaneously looking like someone who could be on the front of a magazine. 

Life is hard, after the time war, but she meets a man with big ears and blue eyes and things get better. A lot better. It feels good to smile again. 

The addition of Captain Jack Harkness is an interesting one, but she’s always said the more the merrier. Their other companion is not quite as happy about this development, but before long they’re the best of friends. 

The Tenth Doctor: 

She’s gentler now, somehow. Oh, she has her anger and her snark, and boy does this body have a set of lungs on her. But she’s so much softer, underneath. 

Losing her friends from her last body takes its toll. She at least manages to avoid comparing Martha to them that came before her. Martha is wonderful, always completing even the most impossible tasks that the Doctor puts to her. They part on good terms, after the Master’s ravaging of the Earth. (The Master had not been so impressed with this version of her. He had trouble seeing the strength within, seeing that she was more than the duality of compassion and shouting.) Martha needs to look after her family, and that’s probably for the best. 

And then there’s the skinny idiot in the suit. He actually talks faster than she does, which is absurd, but she wonders if that’s simply because of his questionable family. Perhaps not letting them get a word in is how he survives. 

Either way, they get along like a house on fire. Losing him, wiping his memory and seeing him stare right through her and smile that stupid smile, is almost enough to break her. 

No more companions, she swears. 


The Eleventh Doctor: 

It’s all about fun, now. Impressing the little boy whose garden she crashes in and then impressing him when he’s grown up and has waited 14 years for her. (To hell with her rule about no more companions. Her old self was full of dumb ideas anyway.) 

Oh yes, she likes Rory Williams a lot. And his best friend John isn’t bad either. Mind you, that nose… 

She has her spaceship, and her boys, and life is good. Well, there’s River Song to worry about, but she can never be sure if the archaeologist is more interested in her or John. Just one more mystery, it seems. 

Losing Rory, and then John, is hard. But she knows that they’re happy, and that’s enough. 

The Twelfth Doctor:

Short, bossy, a control freak, and a slight obsession with tartan. Also, her English teacher companion is secretly a rock star wannabe, disguised as a reclusive Scottish nerd. 

What’s a girl to do? 

(Apparently, find out that her best enemy is alive, and now also female. And Scottish like her companion. The first kiss had been… shocking to say the least. The ones after, against her better judgement, decidedly less so.) 

She cares about her companion more than she will ever say, and when faced with losing him, takes things too far. Further than anyone should ever take anything. And when it is all said and done… she can’t remember his face, or his voice, or how he sounded when he mocked how large her eyes were. 

River is there to comfort her, though, in those 24 years on Darillium. 

And then Bill. Brilliant Bill. Oh yes, they make quite the team. And Nardole helps sometimes too. 

Send me an AU and I’ll expand on it! 

Mess o’ Mine

Harry X Reader: Angst, smut

In which Harry’s stolen from you and needs to fix it.

Request? No

Part 2: Mouth o’ Mine // Part 3: Mind o’ Mine


The apartment is dark, lights dimmed so you can set the mood for what you expect to be an emotional performance. Your laptop is plugged into the television and the screen is flickering, splashing colors across your face from a product commercial. Harry is across the world, about to premiere a song from his upcoming album on a popular talk show. Despite how excited you are to hear the music, you’re still nervous for him, as you always are. There’s no doubt in your mind that he’ll smash whatever he performs, but he always seems to get in his own way.

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Polaroids : Jonathan Byers x Reader

Originally posted by gillijacobs

A/N: Oops, I went a little crazy on this one, but I hope you like it!

“Happy Holidays, Byers family!” You shout throughout the little house, all decked out in a cheesy Christmas sweater and Santa hat.

“Jonathan! Your favorite weirdo is here!” Will yells from the couch. You just give him a playful glare and he laughs. “You know you’re my favorite, (Y/N),” he says with a smile.

“I better be, Byers.” You point your finger at him and toss a box into his chest. Will reacts just in time and catches the box upright. “You’re welcome.”

Will’s eyes go wide and he jumps up to hug you. “Thank you so much, (Y/N)!”

Presents were a rarity in the Byers’ house, so you made sure that you would bring gifts for every holiday. Whether it be Christmas, birthdays, Halloween, or even weird ones like Arbor Day. You started doing that when you first spent Christmas with the Byers’ two years ago. There were maximum 8 presents to split between everyone under their little Christmas tree, and it made your heart hurt. 

“You’re welcome, Will. I have some more for everyone in my car if you want to grab them,” you pry him off and present him with your car keys. He eagerly takes them from your hands, dashing to the driveway. Jonathan finally appears in the living room with his hands behind his back, obviously holding something. 

“Hey, babe,” you say, greeting him with a small kiss. “I have a present for you.”

“You know you didn’t have to get me anything, (Y/N),” he starts. “You always get me gifts, even for pointless holidays.”

“What?” you pout. “I can’t spoil my boyfriend?”

Jonathan places the little box on the couch before his arms snake around your waist, pulling you closer. You wrap your arms around his neck and give him another kiss. “It’s just that…I feel like I need to spoil you. You’re so amazing and you deserve everything, which I can’t give to you.”

“Hey, Byers, I don’t need any gifts. You are the best thing that I could have.” You smile, looking straight into his eyes. “Plus, I enjoy spoiling you guys a little. You all work so hard, especially your mom, and you all deserve it.”

Jonathan touches his forehead to yours gently. “Wow, I love you,” he whispers before attaching his lips to yours in a passionate kiss. You start to melt a little when you hear the front door slam, prompting you both to pull away. Will stands at the door with a pile of presents in his arms, trying not to topple over. Jonathan just shakes his head at you, knowing that all of them were from you.

“What?” you attempt to look innocent but just end up smiling. You go over to help Will place all the presents under the tree as Jonathan takes a couple off the top of the pile. You all make your way over to the tree and set them down gently. Joyce walks in on you three, drying her hands on a towel, completely puzzled with what was taking place.

“Um, hello?” Joyce suddenly says, startling all of you. You’re the first to stand, followed by Will then Jonathan. “What’s going on?”

“Hi, Mrs. Byers!” You say, rummaging for one of her gifts. You find the one in gold wrapping paper and hand it to her. “Merry Christmas!”

A small smile forms on her face and she pulls you in for a hug. “Thank you so much, (Y/N). You have no idea how much this means to me. I feel like I need to repay you.”

“It’s really no problem, Mrs. Byers. I promise.” You hug her back and when she finally lets go, you can see a few tears in her eyes.

“Oh, wait! Let me go get the camera!” She quickly adds, wiping her eyes. She comes back a few seconds later with an old Polaroid camera in her hands. “Alright, all of you get together!”

You three arrange yourselves in front of the tree and smile wide, arms wrapped protectively around one another. “One, two, three!”

Joyce snaps two pictures and grabs them one by one as they slide out of the camera. She hands one to you and holds on to one for herself. 

She smiles at the scene in front of her, content for once in a long time. “My beautiful little family,” she whispers to herself. “My beautiful, little family.”

It didn’t happen often, but even once would probably be more than Aaron would be willing to admit. The first time it happened was shortly after their game against the Ravens that ended in Riko’s death.

Thanks to Katelyn, Neil knew about Aaron’s occasional nightmares, which was why he was only mildly surprised when one night the door to their bedroom opened and the second Minyard brother stood in their doorway. A quick glance to the digital clock on Kevin’s nightstand told Neil it was half past two in the morning.

He watched from his bed as Aaron quietly, probably hoping not to wake anyone, made his way over to Andrew’s bed.

As he stepped into the little bit of moonlight that found its way through their blinds, the pale light illuminated his tired features and Neil was pretty sure Aaron had gotten little to no sleep yet. He almost felt sorry for him.

“Andrew,” he heard Aaron whisper, a safe distance between him and his twin, “Andrew, wake up.”

Rustling sheets and a sudden, dull thud told Neil Andrew had woken up - as violently as always - in the bed beneath his.

“What.” It didn’t even sound like a question, just a very tired and annoyed remark.

“I-…” Aaron cleared his throat and looked at the ground beneath his naked feet. He looked uncomfortable. Embarrassed. Scared.

“…..can I stay?”

There was a long silence, and Neil began to think Andrew would do his usual spiel of staring someone down until they got the message and left him alone.

He didn’t know what it was that made Andrew decide against this. Whether it was some sort of brotherly affection Andrew had towards Aaron, but didn’t quite know what to do with yet. Or maybe it was his excessive sense of duty towards those he called family. Whatever it was, it made Andrew scoot over in his bed. An almost unnoticeable sigh of relief left Aaron, and he climbed into his brother’s bed.

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Dean doesn’t drive. 

He hands Baby’s keys to Sam, clasps his brother’s shoulder once and then climbs into the backseat with Castiel. The angel looks disheveled, roughed up and tired.

His face is still pale, like he is going to pass out any given moment. But he’s alive, alive and breathing and blinking up at Dean with tired blue eyes. The hunter wordlessly reaches out and pulls him close. Tucks Cas’ face against his neck and holds on.

One of Dean’s hands press over the spot where the lance had wounded Cas. It’s drenched with dried blood but underneath the shirt, Dean feels warm skin, unharmed and it’s everything he needs.

Castiel’s confession goes around in his head. The angel had looked at him and told him he loved him.

Dean holds him a little tighter, lips pressed into brown hair.

“Love you too, Cas”, he whispers.

Teasing, Showers, & Man Buns

A/N: Any of my friends on here that know me and see me IRL, please just keep scrolling. Don’t @ me… This is my first time writing smut, so I apologize in advance for whatever the hell this is. I’d like to thank The Litty Titty Committee™ for pushing me to bring this little idea to life. Hope you enjoy.

Harry’s been back home from tour for three days now, and he’s been nothing but a tease. It’s been over six months since he’s touched you. You would’ve thought he’d have jumped you as soon as he got off the plane, but no, his smug ass thinks it’s a great idea to just taunt you until you cave first.

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True Colors

Named after the song by the Weeknd bc I am trash. Thank you to @caspercassiecas for being my beta. This is my first fic on this account, and my ask box is always open for requests. Hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 3606

Warnings: Smut, fluff, disgusting dude at a bar, reader has a dragon tattoo, sex related humor at the end.


“Y/N!” You heard Lin shout, and you sighed heavily, still holding the coffee that the man had sent you to get. You looked around for him, noticing that he was on the other side of the stage. The stage where the company was practicing.

You groaned, sprinting across the stage, ducking and spinning around dancing people. You somehow managed to get across without spilling the coffee, handing it to Lin and smiling before you heard your name called again.

“Y/N! Come meet Diggs! He was sick yesterday, so you didn’t get to meet him!” You heard Christopher shout, and you groaned again, sighing heavily. You looked over, trying to find where Christopher was standing.

“You guys are lucky I do sports.” You muttered, Lin cackling and patting your shoulder.

“Yes, we are. You’ve got a busy second day ahead of you, kid.” Lin laughed, and you groaned, running back across the stage, doing a slide on your knees between a dancer’s legs and ending up at Christopher’s feet, scrambling up.

“Sorry, I learned yesterday that if I time it right, I can get across the stage without being hit.” You explained, brushing yourself off before smiling widely at Christopher and the tall man beside him.

“Y/N Y/L/N, Daveed Diggs, Daveed Diggs, Y/N Y/L/N. Y/N is our new intern since Jessica quit the other day.” Christopher introduced them, and you smiled warmly, shaking Daveed’s hand. He opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by Phillipa calling out for you.

“Y/N!”

You made an apologetic face, wincing.

“Sorry, it was lovely meeting you, Diggs. I’ll catch you later.” You waved, weaving between the dancers once more, yelping when one grabbed your hand, spinning and dipping you. You went along with it, doing a couple dance steps with him before he let you go and you ran off to find Phillipa.


You were backstage, delivering Leslie a tea before he had to go on. You sighed heavily, rubbing your eyes as you knocked on Leslie’s dressing room door. You heard a muffled ‘come in’ and opened the door, absently tugging on your hair with your free hand. You poked your head in carefully.

“Hey, Leslie, they didn’t have chai, so I had to get you vanilla, I hope you don’t mind. If it’s an issue, I can run down to the corner store really quick.” You greeted, voice rough from how much you’d spoken that day. The three men in the room turned to you, all smiling. Anthony stood, opening the door for you fully. Daveed waved and smirked from his spot on the couch. Leslie was leaning on his vanity, smiling widely at you.

“It’s no issue, thank you, Y/N. Have you met Diggs? He was out sick yesterday when you were here.”

“Yessir, I have met Diggs. Though I’ve been bouncing around all damn day so I haven’t had a chance to properly speak to him.” You laughed, handing Leslie the tea and smiling at Anthony, who appeared to be struggling with his collar, which wouldn’t stay down.

“Anthony, do you need some help?” You asked, furrowing your eyebrows and tilting your head slightly. He looked up and smiled brilliantly.

“Yes, please, actually. I can’t get it to stay down.”

You clicked your tongue, muttering under your breath as you reached a hand to your side, pulling a safety pin out of your jeans. You carefully stuck it in the fabric of Anthony’s coat, pinning it down.

“Alright. Anyone else need anything while I’m in here?” You asked, eyeing Daveed out of the corner of your eye. You noticed his eyes on your legs, moving around your body. He caught your eyes and you raised a brow.

“Coffee would be nice.” Daveed murmured, and you nodded.

“Any specifics on how to make it?”

“I like mine how Lin takes it.”

“Lin takes any kind of coffee I give him.” You snorted, tugging at your hair again as you left the room, sighing heavily.


The Next Day

You were helping one of the dancers through a run, copying his movements effortlessly.

“Y/N! Need you!” You heard Daveed call, and gave the dancer a sad look, jogging off to Daveed’s dressing room, knocking on the door and waiting for the signal to come in. You jumped as Lin opened the door, putting a hand over your heart.

“Jesus! Lin, you almost put me in cardiac arrest.” You scolded, furrowing your brows as you slipped in.

“Sorry, Y/N. I was just leaving.” He laughed, waving as he shut the door. You turned your head, spotting Daveed by his vanity. Your mouth ran dry. He was in a tight black t-shirt, one that outlined every single one of his muscles, and a pair of jeans that fit just right on his hipbones. You forced your eyes to his face, smiling.

“Hey, I was wondering if you could help me with the Lafayette bun. I can’t seem to get it right today.”

“Uh, yeah, s-sure.” You stuttered, blushing bright red. You mentally cursed yourself, walking over and carefully pulling his hair up, forming it into the bun.

“You’re blushing. Are you feeling okay, Y/N?” He practically purred, and you flicked your eyes up to look at him in the mirror, still putting the hair tie around his hair.

“Yeah. Just a little warm in here.” You lied effortlessly, finishing the bun and smiling at him in the mirror.

“Need anything else?”

“The cast is going out tonight, Lin wanted me to see if you’d come. He had to run to set before he could ask himself.”

“He could’ve shot me a text. But yeah, I’ll come.” You murmured, pulling a pocket notebook out of your jeans and scribbling down your number, tearing it out and setting it on his vanity.

“You’re the only person who doesn’t have my number. Text me the location and dress code tonight, please.” You murmured, walking out of his dressing room.


You almost fell out of the shower trying to grab your phone in time to answer the incoming call. You stood, dripping on the floor, pressing the phone against your wet cheek.

Hey, it’s Daveed. I’ll come pick you up. Tell me your address and wear somethin’ nice, aight?” He greeted, and you made a humming sound.

“Will do. Uh, I live in the Deerfold Apartments on eleventh, number 112. I’ll have to buzz you in.” You answered, running a hand through your still soapy hair.

You sound out of breath. You feeling alright?

“I was in the shower when you called. Almost fell trying to answer.” You laughed, listening to his own warm laugh radiate through her speakers.

Alright, I’ll let you finish your shower. See you in about 30 minutes.” He said, and you hummed. The call ended. Or so you thought.

You put your phone down, stepping back in your shower. You went back to your singing, belting out the lyrics to old rock songs at the top of her lungs, running conditioner through your hair. You quickly washed your body and shaved, turning off your shower. You grabbed the towel you kept by, sighing at the puddle of water on the floor.

“Dear god that’s so much water.” You said to yourself, drying off quickly before putting the towel on the floor to soak up the water.

You pulled your hair into another towel, twisting it up and whistling as you stepped on the other towel, singing once again. You picked up your hairbrush and phone, starting on Lemonade, Beyonce’s new album. You picked up the towel and your dirty clothes, walking out to your bedroom, singing at the top of your lungs.

You can taste the dishonesty,
it’s all over your breath,
” You sang, tossing your phone on the bed. You continued singing, putting your dirty clothes and both towels in your hamper. You quickly brushed out your hair, accidentally tripping over a pile of clothes and letting out a loud string of curses. You heard quiet laughter, popping up and trying to find the source of the sound. You scrambled to your phone, finding that you were still in a call with Daveed.

“Diggs! Why didn’t you hang up?!” You exclaimed, turning bright red.

I heard you singing and wanted to stick around to see if you’d sing a song from the show.” You heard his familiar voice crackled through the phone.

“Jesus Christ.” You groaned, knowing you’d never live this down.


You buzzed Daveed in, walking back to your bedroom and stepping into your dress, pulling it up. You struggled with the zipper, getting it up about halfway before you heard a knock on your door. You sighed, walking over to your door and opening it. You gave Daveed a slightly awkward smile.

“Can you zip me up, please? I can’t seem to get it.” You asked, and he laughed, nodding his head. You turned, holding in a shiver as his warm hands ran up your spine, zipping the dress. You felt his fingers lingering, brushing along the dragon tattoo at the base of your neck.

“Nice ink. Do you like dragons?”

“No, I hate them.” You said sarcastically, rolling your eyes and stepping into a pair of heels, grabbing your jacket and purse.

“Alright, let’s motor.” You smiled, spinning your keys around your finger. He nodded, stepping aside to let you out. You locked your apartment, linking your elbow with his and letting him escort you.


You laughed at the story Lin was telling the people at the table, sipping your wine. Daveed was digging into his steak, being quieter than usual. Anthony was on your other side, casually sipping his wine as well.

“Hey, D, you doing okay?” You asked, voice quiet. You glanced over at him, raising a brow. He smiled, nodding.

“I just can’t cut this damn steak.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head and sipping your wine again. The waiter walked over, setting down a wine glass and a note in front of you. You raised your eyebrows. You glanced at the table, making sure they weren’t paying attention before you spoke.

“Oh, I didn’t order this, sir.” You said, smiling up at the waiter.

“It’s from the gentleman in the blue shirt at the bar.” The waiter smiled, and you nodded, looking at the glass of wine and flicking your eyes up to the guy at the bar, who smirked and waved at you. You opened the note, reading it and suppressing a disgusted face. You pulled your notebook and pen out of your bag, scribbling down a note back and chugging the wine. You handed the note and empty glass to the waiter, smiling.

“Tell him he has awful taste in wine, but thanks anyway.” You requested, and the waiter read your note and laughed, nodding his head.

“Yes, ma’am. You have a strong voice in your writing.” He commented, and you smirked.

“I’m aware. Thank you very much.”

You sipped your previous glass of wine, looking over at a call of your name.

“So, Y/N, what did blue shirt guy say in his note?” Lin asked, and you sighed, shaking your head.

“I should’ve known better than to think that would’ve gotten past you. I thought it would be a nice note, but it was vulgar as all hell.” You muttered, shaking your head and glaring at the note.

“What did you say back?” Renee laughed, and you shrugged, smirking.

“I said that he was a pussy for saying it in a note with wine instead of to my face, and if he really expected that to work or get him laid, then he was more idiotic than I thought at first glance.” You answered Lin, who snorted loudly, cackling.

“Wait, lemme see his note! Y/N, you gotta show me!”

“Lin, read it out to us!” Oak laughed, and Y/N giggled, passing the note to Lin. He cleared his throat, getting out his most dramatic voice.

Hey, I really like your dress. I think I’d like it better on my floor, though. I like your lips as well, and I sure would love to see them wrapped around my 11-inch cock, come take charge of me, honey, I can show you a good boy,” Lin read, and you listened to the table burst out into loud laughter. Anthony gave you a sympathetic look, and Daveed swallowed his piece of steak before speaking to her.

“Are you even into being the dominator, Y/N? I get a more vanilla vibe from you.”

You raised your brows at him, laughing softly.

“And I think that’s my cue, sorry, guys, I have to wake up early and run around all day tomorrow.” You spoke, avoiding the question as you slipped on your coat, digging your wallet out of your purse and handing Lin $20 dollars, paying for your food. You waved as you walked out, blowing a kiss at them.


You stretched up, grabbing a pack of powder creamer from the cabinet, dancing to the singing you heard from the stage. You stirred it into the cup of coffee that sat in front of you, singing along softly. You nearly jumped out of your skin as you felt a pair of hands on your hips.

“Did I scare you away last night, baby?” Daveed whispered in your ear, and you shivered.

“N-no, Daveed.” You replied, shivering at the feeling of his breath on your neck.

“You gonna answer my question, baby girl?”

You had to forcibly suppress a moan, subconsciously grinding your ass against his crotch. He laughed quietly, pressing a small kiss to the juncture of your neck and shoulder. You released a shaky breath.

“I don’t like to dominate, I like being dominated.” You muttered, and he bit into your neck, hard enough to leave a bruise and draw a moan out of you.

“Can’t fuck you here, baby girl.” He murmured, and you whimpered.

“I’ll swing by your place later.” He murmured, and you nodded desperately, grinding against him once more before he pulled away, smirking at you as he walked away, leaving you panting and blushing at the counter.


You buzzed Daveed in, practically bouncing as you walked off to your bathroom, checking your appearance one more time, perfecting everything. You heard him knock, walking cautiously over to your door and opening it, stepping aside to let Daveed in.

“You can take your shoes off by the door, and, uh, hang your jacket on the free hook.” You greeted, blushing bright red.

“You’re cute when you blush, baby. If at any point you want me to stop, say ‘red’ okay?”

“Got it. Red. Okay.” You murmured, nodding. You blushed impossibly brighter when he grabbed your hips again, tugging you against his chest. He crashed his lips down onto yours and you moaned into his mouth, circling your arms around his neck and grinding yourself against him.

“Fuck, Daveed, bedroom.” You managed when you broke free, pointing to your bedroom door. He nodded, grabbing the undersides of your thighs and picking you up, walking toward your bedroom, leaving kisses on your neck. He tossed you on your bed, tugging his shirt off and unbuckling his belt. He smirked at you.

“Take off your clothes and hold out your wrists, baby.”

You were quick to comply, pulling your clothes off in record time and holding out your wrists for him. You moaned a little when you saw he’d finished taking off his clothes while you were distracted with yours. He pulled his belt tight around your wrists.

You moaned when he trailed a hand down, running a finger along your slit. You tossed your head back, bucking your hips up when he pushed two fingers into you, curling them just right and rubbing your walls. Your mind went blank, moving your hips to meet his fingers as he thrust them in and out of you. He ducked his head down, sucking at your clit, drawing a damn near scream from you. You were impossibly close. Though, to be fair, you’d been close since he’d kissed you.

“Please, sir, please, let me,” You babbled, mindlessly begging.

“Can you take three, baby?”

“Yes, sir, please,” You moaned, arching your back up sharply when he pushed another finger into you, keeping you right on the edge. You started begging again, whimpering when he held your hips down with one of his hands, stopping you from moving.

“Cum.” He ordered, and you practically screamed his name as you obeyed, back arching, fingers reaching out in your bonds, mind going completely blank. Before you had time to recover completely, he was inside of you, hitting your g-spot immediately.

“Daveed!” You moaned, dragging out the syllables in his name. He wrapped a hand around your throat, biting hard into your shoulder as he pounded into you. You felt his other hand gripping your hip so hard that you knew you’d have his fingerprints branded onto you for weeks. You moaned again when he bit hard on your breast, then moved his hand and bit into your neck again.

“You’re mine now, baby girl, no one else can fuck you like this.” He growled into your ear.

“Yes, sir, yours.” You moaned back, gasping for breath as he slowed down, almost sobbing.

“Say it, baby. Who’s are you?”

“Yours, sir! Please!” You moaned, trying to buck up and get him to go faster again.

“Who’s?”

“Yours, Daveed! Fuck, please!” You sobbed, then felt him unbuckle the belt around your wrists, then start up again. You threw your head back once more, raking your nails up his back. You knew there would be marks the next morning from your nails, and that made you moan more, scratching up his back again, then burying your hands in his hair, pulling. He groaned, nodding his head.

“Good girl, Y/N, fuck. Cum for me, baby girl.” He groaned out, and you let your orgasm take over again, seeing stars. You felt him bite hard into your shoulder, possibly drawing blood, as he came. All the muscles in your body went slack, and you winced at the oversensitivity as he pulled out of you, taking the condom off and tying it, tossing it into the trashcan by your bed. He ran a hand through his sweaty hair, smiling at you.

“Where’s your bathroom, baby, we need to clean you up.” He asked, voice soft. You groaned, lifting your arm and pointing to a door, sighing when he picked you up. He walked into your bathroom, making a pleased noise at the sight of your bathtub, setting you down on the counter and running you a bath.

“I’m tired, Daveed.” You muttered, whining as he picked you up again, sitting in the bath with you between his legs, leaning against his chest.

“I know, baby, let’s just get you cleaned up and then I can take you to bed, okay?”

“Mm, okay.” You murmured, letting him wash you off. You let your eyes slip shut as he shampooed and conditioned your hair, washing your body gently. You felt him moving around as he cleaned himself, then as he pulled the plug to drain the water. You felt him leave the tub, drying himself off, before picking you up and drying you off, carrying you to your bedroom. You sighed, tossing the towel around you into the hamper in your room before he laid you both down, pulling the blanket up to you and wrapping his arms around you.


“Hey, Y/N, what’s with the turtleneck? It’s super fuckin hot in here.” Anthony called, and you spun around, smiling at him.

“That is subjective, Ant. I think it’s really cold, actually.” You lied, shrugging. He raised an eyebrow.

“Or you got laid last night.”

You didn’t respond, the color draining out of your face.

“Holy shit! Guys! Y/N got dicked down!” Anthony shouted, and you pinched the bridge of your nose, groaning.

“Yes, I did. Is there a reason why my sex life is so exciting to you, Ant?” You sighed, putting a hand on the hip that wasn’t bruised all to hell and glaring at him.

“Lemme see what the guy did, Y/N, I know you have a tank top under that damn turtleneck,” Anthony said, and you snorted, rolling your eyes.

“Lin! Make Anthony go away!” You shouted, Lin looking over and laughing at the two of them.

“Do you even remember the guy’s name? Did you get his number? Are you gonna hit him up? I saw you walking weird earlier but I thought you just pulled a muscle, was he that good?” Anthony shot off, and you groaned, sighing.

“Hi, baby. He bothering you?” Daveed asked, wrapping an arm around your waist and gently pecking you.

“Holy shit.” You heard Lin say, then heard Anthony and Oak burst out in laughter.

“Jesus Christ, we knew you liked her! Lemme see what he did to you, you gotta show me now!” Ant cackled, and you made a grumbling noise, looking up at Daveed for permission. He gave a single nod, and you sighed, tugging your turtleneck off and allowing them to see the plethora of bruises on you. Including the scabbed over bite on your shoulder, claiming marks.

“Jesus Christ, Diggs, you don’t hold back.”

“He would’ve but I didn’t tell him to. Is your curiosity sated?” You snapped, glaring. Anthony and Oak held up their hands in mock surrender.

“Well, now we won’t have to ask why you’re walking funny.”

“Shut up.”