it was hard to narrow it down but yeah

Scruff + Stuff - KageHina Ficlet (Rated T)

Third 1k FOLLOWER FICLET FEST ficlet (FFFf) for @tolhinata​! We’ve talked about glasses/beardy Kags a few times, and NOW tol fran will finally get the goofy lil fic she has been dreaming about ;) (As you can tell, I am somewhat arbitrarily naming these things, so if anyone comes up with something better, holla.) Enjoy!


They’ve done this a few times, now. Stayed up so late watching movies or recorded matches, or talking, or on the rare occasion studying, that Kageyama has to call his parents and tell them he’ll be staying over at the Hinata household for the night. Sometimes they grab the extra futon out of the closet, but sometimes like last night, after Hinata whines in that way he does when he’s half-asleep, Kageyama just grumbles and shoves him up against the wall in his twin-sized bed so he can fit his long, bulky limbs around Hinata’s more compact body and go to sleep. 

It hasn’t happened in a while, though, so when Hinata wakes up on a Saturday morning, face smushed basically into the armpit of Kageyama’s t-shirt (drooling a bit), and blinks the sand from his eyes, his heart stops when he sees it. 

Kageyama is awake, still sleep-messy with his hair standing on end in some places. He’s looking down at his phone scrolling through sports stats or something with his other arm around Hinata, but his sharp jaw is speckled with tiny, scratchy-looking hairs, up around his mouth and under his cheekbones. He has stubble

“Do you shave now?!” Hinata squeaks, and then he sees that Kageyama is wearing glasses too. “And glasses—you wear—you have glasses too!” 

Kageyama, who twitched violently when Hinata yelled in his face, drops his phone and glares at Hinata. “What the fuck, Hinata,” he grumbles, pinching his fingers up under the thick frames of his glasses and jostling them a little on the bed when he nearly clocks Hinata in the head with his arm. “Do you only have one volume? Dumbass.” 

“Well, are you trying to kill me?!” Hinata continues like he didn’t say anything.

“Shut up, I didn’t hit you that hard,” Kageyama says, patting Hinata’s head clumsily and taking a deep breath as he turns toward him. 

“Kageyama!” Hinata slaps his chest and sits up. He wasn’t talking about Kageyama’s wayward limbs. 

“Stop shouting—yes, I’ve been shaving for like, almost a year. And I told you about my glasses.” 

“Nooo! You didn’t!” 

“Yeah, I did, when we had detention for breaking into the gym and we had to—help those girls set up for the winter formal… and that one girl asked you out but you said you were grounded forever.” 

Hinata narrows his eyes down at Kageyama. 

Kageyama just waves his hand at him dismissively. “I told you my doctor said I needed to get my eyes checked.” 

“Uhhh, you didn’t say you were getting glasses! You don’t wear them!” 

“I wear contacts.” 

Hinata’s mouth hangs open, simultaneously offended and amazed. He stares at Kageyama, who’s starting to redden under his scruff. 

“Hinata,” Kageyama says, “what is wrong with you.” 

Hinata shakes his head. “I’m waiting for my heart to restart.” 

Kageyama rolls his eyes behind his square, thick framed glasses, with an orange accent along the bow resting along his ear. “You’re so stupid,” he grumbles, pressing his head back into the pillows. He’s so red now. 

Hinata licks his lips. He has this sudden, niggling desire to lean over his best friend and… He presses his mouth to Kageyama’s scratchy face, just off center of his parted lips, and purses them, squeezing his eyes shut. 

Almost surprisingly, Kageyama’s breath stutters out of him, and then he’s kissing Hinata back. 

Now, this part, it has only happened once, when they won nationals last year and Tanaka Saeko smuggled sake into Ryuu’s hotel room after the final game and Kageyama got drunk and really handsy. Hinata’s not sure if they had a silent agreement to never mention it or Kageyama is just too embarrassed to even bring up that entire day, despite the gold medal he has hanging above his bed at his house. 

This morning, he is willing to keep kissing Hinata until they need to gasp for breath, even though their collective breath is a little morning-sour, even though Hinata’s lips are tingly and his cheeks burn a little from the roughness and he lets out little overwhelmed whines every now and then. 

They break apart eventually, and Hinata blinks his eyes open synchronized with Kageyama below him. Kageyama huffs loudly, tugging his skewed glasses down his nose because they fogged up while they were kissing. 

“Shut up, idiot,” Kageyama says when he sees Hinata smile, then cover it up with his cupped fingers. Hinata gets distracted along the way when he feels his sensitive skin, and grins harder. 

“I didn’t say anything!”

“You were thinking it.” 

“Was not,” Hinata argues. 

Kageyama wipes his glasses on his t-shirt, and then taps them back up the bridge of his nose. Blinks up at him. Smiles a little. 

“So was it the glasses or the stubble?” he asks, a little too sardonic for someone who’s just been kissed silly. 

Hinata hits him with a pillow. And then he kisses Kageyama again. 

It’s the best way to avoid interrogation.

anonymous asked:

Any headcanons on Izuku and Katsuki boarding a crowded train and they keep rubbing against each other on accident?

They try everything in their power not to rub on each other. Izuku stretches his body as far as he can from Katsuki…. Though it ends up not working out. The train is so unbelievably packed, thanks to students going home from school, and adults heading home from work.

It leaves Izuku and Katsuki to cram against one of the back walls of the train, right near the doors. Izuku squeezes himself close to Katsuki now, facing him. His struggle to keep any distance is short lived, since more people enter the train last minute.

“At least its not too long of a ride..“ Izuku says, sheepishly and Katsuki just grunts in response. He can already feel their bodies are probably /too/ close together.
Izuku’s face is a light shade of red, but he thinks the two of them can handle being this close for now– their stop is only four in, so its only about 25 minutes at most!

Everything seems like it’ll go well! That is, until the train starts moving.

Every jerk, every bump, every time someone knocks into Izuku, the two of them feel their groins touch. Katsuki grumbles and subtly tries to back up, but it isn’t working. Izuku is constantly getting bumped and they keep ending up right back on each other.

“Fuck, Deku.. back up! ”

“I-I can’t, Kacchan.. I’m not /trying/ to be so close..” He mumbles embarrassed. How awful would it be if they continue the entire way home like this?? Izuku doesn’t think he can handle it. Being pressed right up against Katsuki… Fighting his urge not to make a sound because the continuous rub and contact is actually starting to feel kind of good– Its a torturous game, and he just can’t do it.

“Well, figure some shit out..!”
Izuku notes quickly that Katsuki isn’t going to be able to handle it for much longer, either. In fact, he’ll probably lose his cool a lot faster than Izuku does.
Izuku is sure that his boyfriend will bend him over right there, if this keeps up.

Suddenly, an idea pops into Izuku’s head. He starts to twist and adjust his body carefully, until he’s facing away from Katsuki. His ass may be getting pushed and rubbed against Katsuki but.. that’s better, isn’t it?

“M..much better..” Izuku nods to himself, already thinking maybe he can last like this. Katsuki on the other hand… doesn’t feel the current position is making much of a difference.

“You made it worse, fucking Deku!” Katsuki says between gritted teeth. Why does Izuku have to have a nice, round, ass like that? Why does it have to move, and push back on him while the train moves?? Katsuki can feel the heat pooling in his groin. If Izuku’s ass keeps unintentionally grinding against his dick, he’s going to lose it.

“I-Im sorry, I dont know what else to do- I can’t move anywhere Kacchan..” he whispers. Then, the train rattles again suddenly. It causes Izuku to stumble back, and he braces his fall by pushing back against Katsuki again.

As he’s about to readjust his stance though, his face starts to heat up darker.

“K-Kacchan…” he swallows hard, glancing back. “Are.. are you-”

“Don’t fucking say it Deku.. what the hell do you expect??” Katsuki’s ears are tinted red.

Yeah, there’s no hiding it. He’s getting aroused. It’s next to impossible to hide something like that in such a cramped territory.

“I- I’m sorry Kacchan..!” Izuku’s blush is rising higher, because the erection of his boyfriend is starting to become far more noticeable with every jerk. “What should I do?”

Katsuki narrows his eyes then, as he looks down at Izuku. He slips his hands down to rest on Izuku’s hips causing the latter to gasp softly from unexpected touch. He holds Izuku’s body close and leans his lips down to rest against his ear.

"I could fuck you right here. ” Katsuki whispers bluntly.
That sends a shiver down Izuku’s spine, and he swallows thickly. He shifts his eyes back to give a subtle glance at Katsuki, before looking down again. The blush is obvious on his face, and he’s trying his best to keep himself from getting too excited.

“Th-that isn’t– um. That’s not… it’s not a good idea.” He tries to reply with out making it obvious that Katsuki’s words got to him. Though he can feel the smirk thats forming on Katsuki’s face. “Th..there’s people here.”

Katsuki keeps his lips pressed on the freckled boys ear.
“Isn’t that the best part? I can fuck you right here, nice and slow, and everyone in the entire fucking train will know you’re all mine.” He gives Izuku’s ear lobe a light bite.

“K-Kacchan..” he mumbles and begins to feel his own arousal. He shifts in place slightly, though it doesn’t help ease up any tension. “Stop… ah!”

Suddenly Katsuki is biting at his neck. /Hard/. It causes Izuku to make an unintentional sound, and the people surrounding them turn to look. They give judgemental stares, and turn their attention back to their own bussiness. Though its hard to ignore the two of them. Katsuki is continuing to bite and kiss at Izuku’s neck deapite the crowd. “Kacchan..”
Izuku whimpers slightly, but catches himself. He furrows his eyebrows and quickly elbows Katsuki in the side. “Kacchan stop that–!”

“ow- what?? I can’t help it! You’re lucky I’m not already fucking you senseless.”

“Shh!! Y- you’re talking loud..there’s other people here..!” Izuku reminds him. He gives subtle glances around at the people who pretend that they aren’t staring and giving dirty looks.
Katsuki just sighs and tightens his hold on Izuku’s hips. He stays quiet for a few moments, then hears the announcement for the next stop approaching. A smirk forms on his face and quickly he grabs Izuku’s wrist.

“C'mon Deku.” He starts pushing them through the crowd, making their way to the closest door. Izuku blinks, confused, but follows his boyfriend’s lead.

“um- Kacchan this… this isn’t our stop. ”

“Yeah I know. But ya really think I can wait another 20 minutes??” He asks. And once the train comes to a complete stop, he yanks them out. It’s busy, but he’s shoving his way through everyone and ignoring the remarks being thrown their way.

“Kacchan w..where are we going? ” Izuku asks, after giving fast apologies to the ones they pushed past.

He gets them into the station, before scoping out a bathroom.
“I’m gonna fuck you good in one of those stalls.”

Izuku’s face is bright red now, but he knows theres no way out of it. Not that he truly wants to get out of it… He’d be lying if he said he didn’t want this too.
“Kacchan..”

“huh?”

He got them into the bathroom now, and luckily the largest stall is open.

“… make sure the entire station knows I’m yours.”
Katsuki gives a loving smirk, as he slams the stall door shut. He’s pushing Izuku up agaist the wall, and steals a deep, forceful kiss.

“Don’t worry, baby. They will.”

Imagine breaking Clint from Loki’s mind control

Clint Barton x Reader

Originally posted by daily-barton

“Why am I back?”

You poured Clint a cup of cold water and handed it to him.

“True love’s kiss and bam good old Clint was back.”

The archer grunted and downed the cool drink. “You’re kidding.”

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Lost Series - Part One

So I decided to write a Jerome Valeska imagine series. It’ll start at the beginning before he killed his mother and I want to lead it up to when he was revived.

Summary : A girl who has been on her own since she was young, meets a certain red head at the circus when she returns to her home town, Gotham.

Pairing : Jerome x  Fem. Reader

Originally posted by putoflaco



Ever since I was ten I’ve been alone. Being an only child with no living relatives can be pretty horrible. Sure, I could’ve went to a foster home. But I didn’t want that, I only wanted my real family. And my real family was taken from me.

That night comes back to me in pieces. I remember hearing a man’s voice, but I don’t know if it was my father’s or a strangers. Then I remember stomping and hiding in my parents closet where I found a pistol. The rest is a blur and I don’t remember how I got out alive. Faintly I recall running through the woods but I don’t know if it was real or a dream. To be honest, ever since that night I’ve been living in a dream.

Floating from city to city, stealing what I need to get by. Now I’m 16 and I’m going back home, back to Gotham City.

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Apologies

Originally posted by lovegoocl

Summary: Cassian gets angry with you when you disobey his orders, so you decided to make it up to him.

Author’s Note: Just been having some Cassian feels lately. This popped into my head, so here ya go. I hope you like it! Enjoy ;)

Warnings: Language; smutty smut smut

*******************************************************************************************

“I had the shot and I took it,” I huffed angrily, following Cassian as he stomped onto the ship. “That was the mission, wasn’t it? I don’t understand why you’re so bent out of shape.” The man in front of me stopped abruptly, whipping around so fast that I almost ran straight into him.

“That isn’t the point, dammit!” he snapped, voice raising as he shoved his finger in my face to enunciate his words. “You deliberately disobeyed my orders, Y/N!” Shaking his head, Cassian turned around and marched through the door of the ship, muttering something angrily in Spanish.

Probably cussing me out.

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Survival Tips.

1.] Always keep a penny or a dime on your person. You’ll never know when you need to unscrew something. That shit could potentially save your life.
2.] If you’re concerned that a stranger outside of your door might be willing to do you harm, don’t look through the fucking peep hole if the door has one. That little circle darkens on the other side. Know what that shit means? It means they know you’re there, and where you are. It could be a good way to get a bullet in the eye.
3.] If you’re in dire need of a weapon and you’re lucky enough to be around ceramic tile? Break it. Break it and sharpen it into a knife like shape using the wall or the floor itself. A ceramic knife’ll get through a metal detector and if you got the tip/edge good enough? It’ll go through most clothes pretty fucking easily.
4.] Think you’re being tailed? Take three lefts, or three rights. It’ll essentially be a circle. If they’re on your ass. If you’re on the interstate? Take the exit ramp up, pull into a truck stop, turn around, and then get back off the exit.
5.] If you think there’s a good chance someone’s out to shoot you, and you’ve got the means to fight back? Go into an enclosed space, like a bathroom, or a narrow hall. Closeness is your friend. Your chances of surviving increase the closer you are. They aren’t great, but they’ll be better.
6.] Alternatively, if someone means to shoot you and you don’t have the means to fight back.. Hit up a crowd. Yeah, it’s fucked up, but it means multiple targets, which could mean a reluctance on their part, or maybe even a means for you to disperse or disappear. A hard target’s an uninviting target.
7.] Locked doors stop honest people. You need to kick a door down? Plant your nondominant foot hard into the ground and kick with your dominant foot. aim below the door handle. Drop kicks? Ramming? Fuck that shit, you’re just gonna hurt yourself.
8.] When faced with a dog or a large predatory animal, don’t run. You run? They chase. It’s their nature. Stare it down, make yourself look bigger, and get ready to kill it. The last part’s a final measure, and you may not have to do that, but be fucking ready if you do.

anonymous asked:

what are your favorite books, if you're the reading type?

I mean, I’m not studying to be a librarian because I hate books and want to go undercover to burn them, so yeah. I’m the reading type, I guess. A little. Sort of.

Obviously, you can’t go wrong with Neil Gaiman, and The Graveyard Book is my favourite of his.

Classically speaking, I love Fahrenheit 451 and anything by Bradbury, really.

As a sad Pittsburgh kid, The Perks of Being a Wallflower is simultaneously worse and better than you remember if you haven’t read it since high school. Same with The Catcher in the Rye. It’s worth re-reading as an adult, even just to laugh at the pretentious, whiny parts.

I also love Shakespeare, but what I love even more are Ryan North’s choose-your-own-adventure Shakespeare books (Romeo and/or Juliet and To Be or Not To Be).

I used to have a huge thing for Chuck Palahniuk, and I think Fight Club is still a solid book, but his new collection of short stories was beyond awful and, at times, glaringly racist. Hard pass.

Joey Comeau is my favourite, and I highly recommend EVERYTHING by him, but if I had to narrow it down to three, I’d go with Overqualified, Lockpick Pornography, and The Summer Is Ended and We Are Not Yet Saved. Okay, and The Girl Who Couldn’t Come. And It’s Too Late to Say I’m Sorry… and also One Bloody Thing After Another and We Are Become Pals. That’s, uh. Huh. That’s like all of ‘em. Yeah, read all of 'em.

The Welcome to Night Vale novel was good!

Everything by Caitlin R. Kiernan, but ESPECIALLY Silk.

Anyhow, I’m mostly a poetry kinda kid when it comes to being EXTREMELY into wordstuff, so a ton of novels and short story collections don’t really jump out at me off the top of my head. I’m sure there’s way more I’m missing. Especially if you were looking for fantasy and horror recommendations, because a lot of those are, like… experiences that don’t really develop into Big Faves, you know?

Imagine: After you get hurt on a mission, John insists that you go home to get looked out. You’re still out for blood though, and not nearly as willing to let your target escape… especially, because your vendetta happens to be a personal one. John is having none of it though, and a fight ensues -one worthy of two assassins who happen to be entangled romantically. 

TW: Violence in a romantic relationship. (Non-abusive though).

A/N: *Whispers* No one asked for this… but I wrote it anyway.


“John, get out of my way,” You said, clenching your jaw and inhaling what was supposed to be a calming breath. “I don’t want to hurt you. But I won’t hesitate to, if I have to…” 

“Sorry,” John replied, in a low voice; curt yet somehow polite as ever, as he blocked your from pursuing your escaping target. “But, he’s not worth dying over.”

He needs to pay,” you scowled, feeling your voice strain. 

“He will,” John replied, drawing closer, in an attempt to help you. “Just not today…”

Fuck off,” You snapped in an annoyed voice, steadying yourself against a nearby wall and weakly pushing him away. “I’m fine.” 

John gave you a wary look over. 

“Yeah,” he huffed, severely unamused, taking an intimidating step closer to you. “This isn’t debatable, (Y/N); We’re going home. Now.” 

You let out a low growl; John may have been armed, physically much bigger, and, well, not bleeding half to death —unlike you—, but even that couldn’t keep you from putting up a fight and acting on pure rage. You didn’t even give yourself time to think before reaching for the tactical knife tucked at the back of your jeans and yanking it out with enough force to send a whooshing sound through the air.

John jumped back, dodging the knife and your attempted stabs with ease, deflecting each of your blows with a series of calculated blocks before prying the knife from your hand and throwing it across the floor.

“Alright,” You huffed, limping forward as you balled your much smaller hands into fists. “Hand to hand, then?” 

“Seriously?” The man asked, almost indignantly, cocking an eyebrow. “We’re really doing this?”

“You should have let me kill him,” You bit back, bringing your hands to your face in fighting stance. “Babe.”

“I’m not going to fight you, (Y/N)” John huffed, before deciding to pull your jacket hood over your eyes and hit you in the chest hard enough to knock you back onto your ass —a somewhat idealistic attempt to dissuade you from carrying on any further.

You groaned, rubbing your chest with the palm of your hand and gingerly rolling onto your stomach in an attempt to push yourself back up into standing position.

Stay down,” John barked, grabbing you from behind and restraining you.  

“Let go of me!” You screamed.

Let it go.” The man forced through clenched teeth, tightening his grip around the you as you continued to thrash around wildly. “Is he really worth losing your life over!?” 

“He needs to pay!” You struggled, kicking the wall in front of you and pushing off hard enough to send you and John crashing to the floor. 

John let out a low grunt of pain with the hit, but was otherwise unaffected, managing to keep his arms secured around your body as he quickly disarmed you and pinned you down with his bodyweight. After a minute of rolling around and banging each other against various objects and furniture, John finally managed to get the upper hand: Pinning you against the wall, leaning in and searching your eyes. 

Honey, think this through,” He tried to reason, still struggling to restrain you as you tried to gouge his eyes out with your thumbs. “He’s already gone… If you carry on like this, you’re going to bleed out… then you’ll never get your revenge.”

You narrowed your eyes at your long time partner, biting down on his shoulder and head butting him in the face hard enough to send a trickle of blood running down his nose. 

“Yeah!,” You retorted. “Because you let him go, you bastard!”

John stared at you with bewildered brown eyes, deflecting a fury of punches and bites as you tried to barrel your way through him. 

After what felt like an hour of screaming and fighting, John finally pinned you to the floor, sitting atop you and securing your arms down with both his hands. You let out a guttural sound, scrunching your nose for a moment before throwing your head back against the floor in exasperation and giving in to your exhaustion. John gave you a questioning look, as if to ask, “You done yet?”. You only scowled, letting your eyes search the room and lock on a last resort escape route. 

Don’t,” John warned, realizing your intentions. 

He sounded tired; unamused and unwilling to let you put up a fight. The man let out an exasperated sigh, giving you a vexed and final look over. After a moment, he decided to do the only thing he knew would diffuse the situation entirely: He knocked you out with a quick blow to the back of the head and hauled you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing. 

“I told you this wasn’t debatable,” he said, lifting you up and ducking out through a nearby door. 

Bite Me

Sirius Black x Reader

Request: Omg I just read this prompt could you do it with sirius? Where they are dating please?? Y/n “bite me!” Sirius *smirks “where?” Y/n *tiny gasp*

Originally posted by lastwordem

Y/N and Sirius are sitting in the library, desperately cramming for their potions test the next day. At least Y/N is cramming – Sirius is idly toying with the pages of his textbook, biting his lip and staring at Y/N.

Heaving a huge sigh, Y/N’s head snaps up in annoyance to glance at her boyfriend. “Are you just going to keep staring at me, or are you going to start working for once?”

Sirius’ eyes widen in mock indignation. “I work hard, babe.”

Y/N scoffs. “Yeah, okay.”

“Don’t believe me, do you?” Sirius asks with a smirk. “Fine. Then answer this. What are the four main ingredients of Confusing Concotion?”

A line appears between Y/N’s eyes as she frowns at him, trying to remember. Exasperated, she huffs and crosses her arms over her chest. “I don’t know.”

Sirius lets out a very self-satisfied grin and leans back in his chair. “Well, I do.”

Y/N narrows her eyes at him. “Bite me,” she growls, then bends her head back down to her textbook in an effort to ignore Sirius – but suddenly, he’s at her side, his lips on the tip of her ear. She shivers at the feel of his warm breath on her neck and shoulder.

“Where?” Sirius asks, and Y/N swears she can see his smirk even though he isn’t in her line of sight. Eyes widening, she gasps and shoves him away.

“N-not now,” she stammers, eyes darting around the quiet room and resuming her previous position – but her concentration is again ruined by Sirius softly rubbing her tense shoulders.

“You’re too stressed, love,” he murmurs. Y/N leans her head back to meet his eyes, studying long forgotten as she loses herself in the feel of his warm hands exploring her back. She raises her face slightly, and Sirius gets the hint. He, in turn, lowers his face in an attempt to make contact with her lips – but suddenly, the two are wrenched apart by a shriek.

“This is a library!” the shrill voice of Madame Pince resounds through the room, making Y/N jump and turn beet red. “Hardly the time and place for such antics!” She flaps her arms at them, and they barely have time to grab their books before they are chivvied out of the library. They run out into the hall, breathing hard and laughing.

Sirius turns towards Y/N with a mischievous glint in his eyes, and pulls her back into his arms with one quick motion. “Now – where exactly did you want me to bite you? Here?” He asks, pressing his mouth to the top of her ear and gently nibbling. “Or here?” Using his nose to gently push her neck to the side, he starts nuzzling into her neck.

Y/N tilts her head more, granting him easier access, and smiles. She would really have to say that more often.

anonymous asked:

30!

30. “you can’t run so it’ll be faster if I just carry you” (from this post)

“Spock. No.”

“Jim.” Spock reached out to Jim, trying to keep the exasperation he felt out of his voice and utterly failing. “You cannot run. I will carry you.”

“My leg is broken, not my whole body.” Jim said, pouting a little bit, but he didn’t bat Spock’s hands away like he had been doing at the past attempts. Spock counted that as a win, even though there was too much blood seeping through Jim’s pant leg. He gently pulled Jim into his arms in a bridal carry, careful of his injured leg, and tried not to think about how fast he’d have to run if they planned on making it off this planet alive. He realized Jim was shivering, most likely from shock, and he felt something a lot like fear snap through his mind.

“You’d think by now Starfleet would’ve invented some kinda transporter that worked through rock, wouldn’t you,” Jim mumbled into Spock’s neck. “Would save us from things like this.” He waved vaguely at the cave ceiling above them, then curled tighter into himself in Spock’s arms.

“I will inform Mr. Scott of his new project immediately upon our arrival.” Spock said, voice dry, and was pleased to feel Jim’s smile against his neck. He began to make his way back through the winding cave tunnels, focusing on Jim’s warmth in his arms.

“My- my leg really hurts, Spock.” Jim said quietly after a bit, tightening his hand in Spock’s shirt. Spock pulled Jim further into his chest, but kept moving. He would not let his captain die on this planet.

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117. Old people looking on at the two of you fondly. [Dean Winchester]

A/N: Day number 3 of this prompt thing I’ve taken on. Prompt #117.

Word count: 599

Warnings: Mention of sex, otherwise just fluff I suppose

-

“Say, Marlene, don’t these two remind you of the good old days?” a kind man asks his partner.

“Of course, Fred,” the older woman returns, smiling as she watched the pair fight over who would pay for their dinner. “I’ve been watching them all evening.”

The elderly woman’s gaze directs to the younger couple a few tables away.

“You said last time that I could pay this time!” the girl protests, reaching across the table in a very unladylike manner for the tab that Dean had already picked up.

“It’s called a date,” he tells her, swatting at her hand. “The guy always pays on a date or else it’s not a real date.”

“It’s the twenty first century, Dean! Girls can pay for food too!” she says grouchily, scooting her chair closer to the diner table in an attempt to get a further reach.

“Yeah but you’re not gonna!” he catches the waiter’s eye, gesturing him over.

“Dean, I swear if you don’t let me pay for this, then I’m not going on a hunt with you for two weeks,” she threatens, and he pauses for a moment, trying to judge her seriousness.

Two weeks without her on hunts would make for some long days, that much he knew.

“Look, darling. She just said something that made him second guess what he’s doing,” Marlene nudges the old man beside her. “I remember I used to do that all the time.”

“And more often than not it made me look like a fool!” Fred returns, offering his wife a knowing look. “I can feel for that poor man.”

Once more their gazes travel to the couple.

“Don’t be that way,” Dean remarks, watching her pout. Pouting never worked on him, but every single time he was a few seconds away from breaking when she gave up. “You can get the check next time.”

“That’s what you said last time!” she explodes, shooting him a glare. “And the time before that!”

“I know, Sweetheart,” he says with a mischievous grin as he hands the waiter his card. The waiter takes it and walks away, leaving her scowling after him. “How about I make it up to you when we get back to the bunker?”

“How could you ever make it up to me?” she asks, watching his smirk grow.

“That depends on how you want me to make it up to you,” he returns, reaching for her hand over the table.

She pauses for a moment, weighing her words carefully.

“You can make it up to me by letting me drive Baby,” she says, watching his eyes narrow.

“That’s playing dirty,” he growls, taking his card from the waiter as he returned.

“Or…” she trails off, squeezing his hand. “You fuck me hard in Baby once we get back to the bunker. Your choice.”

He gives her a long look, as if trying to judge her seriousness.

“I’m driving,” he says with a smirk as he stands up, and she rises shortly after him.

He leans down and gives her a soft kiss on the cheek while his hand falls to give her ass a subtle squeeze before he guides her out of the diner.

“Yeah, those two bring back the good memories,” Marlene sighs as she watches the young couple depart.

Fred rises to his feet and offers his wife his hand, as they had already paid their bill.

And in a momentary spur from their youth, he reaches behind and grabs her rear, just as he had seen the young couple do moments before.

“Good memories, indeed, Marlene.”

anonymous asked:

Therapist or doctor Phil having sex with his patient Dan?

Warning!! Smut: rough sex, office sex, Dans a whore tbh, I love him, therapist! Phil, sex addict! Dan, hair pulling, etc.

I didn’t quite know what was wrong, it never occurred to me that I was possibly addicted to sex. I mean, in my defense, it feels good. I guess it isn’t the best thing in the world, but I do enjoy it. Probably too much, in all honesty. Which is how I got landed here, in a therapist office for sex addiction. So here I’m sat, my head rested against the wall and my leg across my knee, waiting to be called in for the appointment. I’m not particularly nervous, more like embarrassed. Because let’s be honest right now, going in and telling this guy or whatever ‘hey, I orgasm at least 5 times a day and have sex twice because hey, I’m addicted to the feeling I get when I fucking cum.’ is a little embarrassing, don’t ya think? I think.

But it doesn’t matter, I’ve given up on caring about being seen as a dirty pervert, because let’s face it, that’s exactly what I am. I spend half my day with my dick in my hand and the other with a dick inside of me, and no I’m not at all ashamed to admit it. It’s been like this since I was a teenager, maybe 13 or 14, and I do not give a fuck anymore. I am also currently lying to you. I’m mortified whenever the subject comes up, I am ashamed. Well, maybe. I guess it depends who i’m talking to. Yeah. Thats a good way to narrow down my feelings on the subject. I guess. We’ll go with that for now.

Finally I hear my name being called, honestly could that have taken any longer? It feels like I’ve been here for hours on end. Well, okay, 45 minutes. Don’t judge me and my bad judgement of time. I’m basically hard, because I haven’t gotten off all day, which never, never happens for me. I made an exception to make sure this appointment would be worthwhile, so I could explain to the guy better what exactly was wrong.

I walked into the back of the offices, going to the one whose appointment I was set up with. Dr. Lester it said. Sounded boring. I walk in, sit down and look at the guy. Damn. Certainly isn’t helping my issue currently now is it. I chuckle to myself out loud, amused by my own humor before realizing I had verbally laughed, and now I’m trying to cover it with a cough. Smooth. He smiles at me, this adorable crooked smile that really is not helping me right now, and I smile back to be polite. Why is a smile turning me on? Whatever, I don’t care. I can do this. I can control myself. No I can’t.

“So, Dan Howell.” Dr. lester started. That sounds hot. Fuck. “What are you in here for exactly? I hear from the secretary that you have an addiction, of sorts. But she didn’t specify.” he said and I blinked, my head blank.

“Uh.” I replied. Great move Dan, way to hit it off. “I’m here because i’m addicted to uh…orgasms. I guess.” I coughed awkwardly, avoiding eye contact as I was embarrassed still.

“Well.” he smiled brightly, his expression almost pleased with my answer. “I can help. What exactly are some of your uh..symptoms, we’ll call them?” he asked.

“I get off, quite a bit in a day.” I chuckled awkwardly. “But mostly by myself, most sexual partners don’t have the stamina to help me out.”

“So I’m guessing your girlfriend doesn’t exactly have any interest in helping you out with this issue?” He questioned, like he was trying to learn my sexuality. Was he hitting on me? No. I’m just horny.

“No girlfriend. I’m gayer then Elton John.” I reply casually, trying to seem more calm than I really was. “But no, I don’t have a partner. I have a friends with benefits, but his stamina, like I said, doesn’t match up with mine. I can go two three four seven rounds, after one he falls asleep. It’s annoying.” I tell him, starting to feel more comfortable with the subject.

“Does sound slightly frustrating.” He agreed, nodding solemnly. “You just need to find a partner to satisfy these needs.”

“Don’t you think I’ve tried?” i chuckle, looking at him. “No one can fuck me hard enough where I’m not ready for another round right after. Everyone is so vanilla and soft, maybe that’s my issue.” I said, shrugging, not really having thought of that before.

“Well, maybe look into more kinky things. Like public sex, or rough sex, gags, leashes, I don’t know what you’re into but find someone to fuck the hormones out of you.” He suggested.

“I don’t know any guy who would possibly have the stamina and energy or capability in general to do that to me.” I sigh, wishing I did in all honesty.

“Guess you haven’t met me, huh?” He chuckled, and I raise an eyebrow at him.

“Isn’t it inappropriate to hit on your patients?” I ask, tsking at him with a small smirk. “Although, I’m not exactly complaining. I just don’t think you could handle me. You talk a big game, but are you really able to fuck as much as six times a day just to keep me satisfied?”

“Oh please.” he chuckled, taking off his glasses and smirking. “You wouldn’t be able to do it six times with me.”

“Cocky, aren’t we?” I tease, chuckling deeply and licking my lips. “Think you could really fuck me /that/ well?” I challenge.

“I don’t think it’s wise to taunt me like that, Dan.” He hums and sits back. “Do you have lube on you?” He asks me and I instantly turn red. I always did. It’s my thing. The guy with lube. Okay, not really but yes I always had lube.

“I always do..” I reply and his smirk seems to grow if at all possible.

“Of course you would, a dirty slut like yourself would huh?” he chuckled, putting his hands behind his head and looking at me. “Go lock the door would ya?” he asks and I nod bashfully, standing up and locking the door quickly. “This room is soundproof. It’s a feature.” He shrugged.
“Any reason why?” I decide would be a good question.

“I masturbate a lot.” He said, shrugging as if that was the most casual answer.

“Makes sense honestly.” I respond, smiling at him and sitting up on the desk. He stands up, looking at me and humming. I feel his hands rest on my thighs, his hands are large too, warm and big. He leans in close, like he’s going to kiss me. I feel his lips ghost over mine, making me shiver slightly as he squeezes my thighs. I let out a soft moan, his barely sexual actions already making me physically aroused. I tilt my head, my breathing already starting to strain as I close my eyes. His lips press against my neck, nipping at the smooth skin slightly and grazing his teeth over the side of my neck. One of his hands start to move up my thighs, going over my crotch, putting pressure on my semi erection and swiftly shoving up my shirt, his nails roughly dragging down my side. I shiver again, letting out a rather loud moan for such a non-sexual action.

I feel his lips latch onto my neck, starting to suck and bite roughly. His teeth sink into my skin, an action i thought would hurt but made my toes curl. I let out a loud moan, louder than I should since he wasn’t even touching me. Maybe he was right about the rough sex. He pulls away, and I find myself wanting more. I’m a horn dog but /fuck/. His hand squeezes my hips before snaking around my waist, pulling me closer to him, and my legs instinctively wrap around him tightly. He starts to grind into my, his hips making slow rolling movements against mine, like he knew what would get me going most. His lips touch mine, kissing me and nipping my bottom lip. My arm slinks around his neck, pulling him closer as his tongue slipped passed my lips. His hands both move to under me, squeezing my ass so hard I feel like it’ll bruise, and for some reason the thought turns me on even more.

His tongue works over mine, skilled, even more so then I would have thought. His hands go up, slipping under my jeans and squeezing me through my boxers now. After a few moments of heavy petting, he pulls me to my feet. His hand goes under my thigh, pulling it up around his hip, kissing me more heatedly, it seemed like he was timing when he did what. I pull back, tugging off my shirt and discarding it to the ground, smirking a little as I leaned back in, kissing him roughly. I jump up, my legs both around him now. He turns pressing my back against the wall as we kissed. One of his hands are firmly planted on my ass, squeezing the soft skin and his other arm is wrapped around my waist to hold me up. His hips gyrate into me, I feel his hard on pressed against me. I moan into his mouth, reaching down between us with one hand and unbuttoning his jeans, with quite some effort. I moan loudly, looking at him and he sets me down.

“Strip.” he instructs and I nod, quickly stripping down the rest of my clothing and watching as his eyes went up and down my body, biting his lip and smiling, pleased with what i had to offer. He walked over to me, my hands starting to unbutton his shirt before he shook his head, smirking still and turning me around, pushing me over the desk. HIs hands run down over my bare ass, his finger tips light and feathery, making me shiver with anticipation of what he’s going to do to me. “Where’s your lube?” he asks and i tell him, pointing to my belt. He quickly grabs one of the packs I hide under my belt buckle, smiling softly and ripping it open with his teeth, pouring them onto his fingers. “When’d you stretch last?”

“This morning. I didn’t cum though.” I reply, chewing my lip as I waited.

“Good. More fun not to stretch you anyways. A little pain never hurt anyone.” he smirks and I hope to god he’s being ironic with his wording. I feel his tip, I assumed he’s already lubed up. He rubs against my hole, gently pressing in and making me moan before cruelly pulling out, knowing it would drive me wild. He presses in a bit more the next time, pulling out again. The stretch was big, he wasn’t a size I was used to, that’s for sure. He keeps teasing for a few minutes, eventually pushing in all the way, hard fast and all at once. I cry out, he was purposely avoiding my prostate so far as i could tell as he began thrusting. He wasted no time, gaining pace quickly, his hands firmly on my hips and squeezing tightly. His hips snapped back and forth, pushing in and out of me, shifting in order to hit my spot. He relentlessly fucked into the same spot, deliberately hitting dead on knowing it would make me scream. His hand moved away from my hip, his other one tightening in grip. His now free hand makes it’s way to my hair, lacing through my dark locks and starting to pull roughly.

He yanks my head back by my hair, leaning down and kissing me from the side. His hips roll in and out of my expertly fucking me in a way i had never had before, his hand tightly gripping my hair, his tongue roughly and messily running over mine as he fucked me harder than I think i’ve ever been fucked. I move my hand between my legs, starting to stroke my cock as his length worked me. I moan loudly, my voice echoing through the soundproof room. I can’t stop moaning, my noises getting progressively louder and louder as I near my climax.

I run my thumb over my tip, my nail swiping through my slit and causing me to release, spraying cum on the side of the desk, screaming out loudly as I did. He noticed I came, chuckling and not relenting as he fucked into me /harder/ which I had not thought possible, abusing my prostate and making me cry out loud. His hips stopped, yanking my hair back and kissing me still as he started to cum, thrusting slowly and hard in and out as he rode out his orasgm inside me.

I whimpered at the feeling, collapsing on the desk, my arms under my head as I tried to catch my breath. He wasn’t just being cocky. He actually made me not want to go another round. I just want to sleep right now. /Fucking hell/. He pulled out, chuckling as he moved behind the desk and fell into his chair.

“Good?” He asks me, his arms behind his head again as he smiled, the after sex glow apparent on his face.

“I think the real question is.” I panted, looking up at him from my arms. “Is when’s my next appointment?” I chuckled breathlessly.

A/N: Preston kept texting me while I wrote and I told my datemate I was in love with them.

ricca-raccoon  asked:

For the Overwatch prompts: Zarya trying to come to terms with having to work with all these damn Omnics?

Hi friend!

I don’t know why I immediately thought Lúcio for this prompt, but I hope you like it! I love the frog son and need to use him more.

Also shout out to my first time writing Zarya!

Thanks for the prompt, I hope you like it <3


Lúcio knows she’s staring at him, but he doesn’t quite know what to do about it.

           “She’s harmless,” Hana had soothed him, eyes never leaving the screen of her tablet. “Honestly. A big Russian teddy bear.”

           Which—sure, Lúcio would believe—if he were Hana Song. Because everything is harmless to Hana Song because she—at the ripe age of nineteen—possess more military honor than half their team and has a button on her wrist that lets her call a fucking mech.

           So Hana is not a good judge of what is and is not harmless, and Lúcio continues to try and not panic every time he feels the great Russian woman’s gaze settle across his shoulders.

           Like, now, for example.

           “You seem anxious, Lúcio.” The soothing, temperate voice of Zenyatta draws Lúcio back. He blinks, focusing on the Omnic monk calmly assessing him from a few feet away. “Are you quite well?”

           “Oh! Uh, sure thing, Zen,” Lúcio hastens to answer, pulling a smile from god-know-where to flash back. “Just zonin’ out I guess.”

           “Hmmm…” Zenyatta hums noncommittally, which Lúcio has taken to mean the Omnic is processing whatever bullshit he’s just been told and is deciding he doesn’t buy it for a goddamn second. He tilts his head to the side slightly, looking past Lúcio now.

           “And you, Zarya?” he asks politely. “Are you well? You seem tense.”

           Lúcio goes stock-still, because of course Zenyatta would feel the need to engage the angry Russian who has been sizing him up for the better part of a week instead of, y’know, leaving her the hell alone, but he reluctantly turns to face her as well.

            He’s not sure when Zarya stared regarding him with suspicion—she used to just not look at him period, which to be honest, is his preferred scenario—but now he can hear her heavy steps shadowing his skates and he has no idea why.

           “Do you think I offended her?” he’d asked Hana. “Like, I don’t know, maybe she heard the wrong part of one of my jokes or somethin’.”

           Hana shrugged, eyes narrowed at her tablet as her fingers tapped rapidly across the screen.

           “I dunno, Lu,” she’d remarked without looking up. “Maybe she hates frogs.”

           So Lúcio turns around, staring up at a woman who may possibly hate him or frogs or hate him and frogs, with only an Omnic monk to serve as witness to what may very well end up being his murder.

           “Uh, hey Zarya,” he greets her, cautiously lifting a hand in greeting. “How’s it hanging?”

           Zarya bypasses glaring at Zenyatta—which, even though Lúcio loves the monk dearly, he really would have preferred—and zeroes in on Lúcio, who may or may not have audibly gulped.

           “You,” she begins, frowning hard at Lúcio. “Your legs. They are Omnic technology.”

           “What?” Lúcio blinks, blurting the word out without thought because, I’m sorry, his fucking legs? He looks down automatically, as if someone had somehow swapped his fucking ligaments out when he wasn’t looking.

           But, nope—his trusty prosthetics are right where they belong.

           He glances back up at Zarya, offering a one-shoulder shrug.

           “Uh, yeah. It’s Omnic tech.” A pause. God Lúcio hates the silence. “Why….why do you ask?”

           Zarya just narrows her eyes. “Be wary,” she warns, accent ringing out hard and strong.  “Omnic technology is not to be trusted. I would suggest using it sparingly.”

           “You, uh,” Lúcio swallows. “You want me to use my legs sparingly.”

           Zarya just huffs at this, crossing her arms. Lúcio watches her muscles flex and tries no to imagine his head caught between her bicep.

           “You are a good healer,” she rattles off. “Fast, difficult to hit. You would be a great annoyance if you were not an ally.”

           “Thanks,” Lúcio manages. A glowing compliment.

           “I do not want you to be inhibited by Omnic technology,” she finishes, arching an eyebrow. “I need you to be one-hundred percent. Understand?”

           Lúcio can only stare. Did Zarya just…express concern for him? Fucking Zarya?

           Shit on a stick. Hana was right. She’s a Russian teddy bear.

           A Russian teddy bear with muscles the size of his head, but the point still stands.

           “Hey, thanks Zarya,” he replies, cracking a genuine grin. “I promise I’ll stay on top!”

           She just gives him a firm nod, and turns to stride off, but not without one last lingering look at his legs, and then at Zenyatta.

           “You two seem to be getting along quite well,” Zenyatta remarks once she’s left. “How fortunate for you.”

           “Do you think she’d wear one of my concert t-shirts if I gave her one?” Lúcio asks very suddenly.

           “I think she would do anything Hana asked her to do,” Zenyatta replies serenely, drifting away. “I believe her size is an extra large. You may want to cut of the sleeves in advance though. I do not think they will last long.”


Send me an Overwatch prompt!

This Ain’t No Joke, Sweetheart - Chapter 8

SPN FanReality

~Let me tell you about my weekend…~

Beka, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Bill 

2,900 Words

Warnings: Angst. Suicidal Thoughts. Redemption

A/N: Here’s the end of my weekend. Hope you enjoyed hearing about it. It was quite an experience.

Go To Chapter: One ~ Two ~ Three ~ Four ~ Five ~ Six ~ Seven ~ Eight

Chapter Eight - Sunday Night:


The plan was simple: I was to stay in the car. Yup, that was Dean’s big master plan: keep Beka in the car while we do the scary stuff. Yeah, that wasn’t happening. I yes’d him to death the entire ride uptown, and promised to stay put right up until the second I slipped out the passenger side door.

Dean protested, Sam shrugged, and I headed off towards the house, ripping a strip of yellow caution tape from the front door as I entered.

The house was plain but comfortably decorated. The front door opened right into a living room with an old blue sofa with bright orange pillows. Goddamn Mets fans. Bet Bill would love that setup. He loves baseball more than hanging out with you. That’d fit right into his man-cave.

Keep reading

fujoshichan69  asked:

Strip tease. For the writing prompts

64. Strip tease (i’ve always wanted to write this oops)

Levi hadn’t meant to drink so much champagne. He hadn’t meant to run his mouth at the fundraiser either, but somehow it had worked out in their favor, as they’d secured enough money for the next expedition and thus, for the moment, Erwin’s mood was relaxed and pleasant by the time they made it to their private room at the inn.

“Hey.” Levi said after they’d set their things down, nearly forgetting about everything else except for how much he’d wanted to kiss him since the night had begun. “Come here.”

“Yes?” Erwin responded teasingly, offering Levi a small, fond smile that made his cheeks warm even as he tugged at Erwin’s jacket.

He pulled him down while he stood up onto his tiptoes to press their lips together, his arms sliding around Erwin’s neck when he took his waist so he could tangle a hand in his hair. His movements were a bit rough and uncoordinated, of course, because of the alcohol, but he barely noticed, and the way he’d made a chunk of Erwin’s blonde locks stand up straight on top of his head just charmed him all the more.

“You did good tonight.” Levi told him, the warm buzz from the champagne making him feel uncharacteristically giddy and venturesome. “Maybe we should celebrate.”

“Celebrate?” Erwin asked, raising an eyebrow while he gazed down into Levi’s face.

“Yeah. Because you got the money. You deserve a reward.”

“You helped, though.”

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Trimberly prompt: Trini isn't as forgiving as Jason was when Kim confides in her about how she cyber bullied Amanda with revenge porn.

Also posted on AO3

Kim paced the length of her bedroom, wringing her hands and trying to keep them from shaking. She had texted Trini over fifteen minutes ago saying that she needed to talk to her and the wait was absolutely killing her.

She had invited Trini over to confess the horrible thing she did to Amanda. It was high time her friend knew. But she was scared out of her mind because she just didn’t know how Trini would react. Jason had taken it well enough, but that was him. Trini…Trini was different.

Trini knew what it was like to be bullied all the time and had been on the receiving end of many malicious words and deeds. Her locker had been defaced numerous times. She’d been called “dyke,” “fag,” and “wetback” (all of which made Kim want to cut a bitch) more than any of them could keep track of. And maybe she hadn’t had nude pictures of herself shared without her permission, but both were forms of horrible bullying all the same.

So what if Trini hated her?

“You planning on burning a hole through the floor with all that walking?”

Kim jumped as Trini’s voice startled her. She shook her head and said, “You just scared the shit outta me.”

“Yeah, I could tell,” Trini laughed. “What’s got you thinking so hard that you didn’t hear me climb in through your window?”

Kim bit her lip and gestured to her bed. “Can we-can we sit down? There’s something I gotta tell you.

Trini narrowed her suspiciously, but did as Kim asked. “Alright, you’re acting, like, super weird. What’s up?”

Kim sat down next to her, fingers plucking at the comforter. She stopped when she felt a hand cover hers.

“Hey. What’s going on?”

Kim took a deep breath and said, “You know how I have detention every Saturday? Same as Jason and Billy?”

Trini nodded.

“Well, there’s a reason for that. I…I did a bad thing, Trini. A horrible thing to one of my friends.”

Kim didn’t look at Trini the entire time she spoke and Trini never interrupted her once. She sat back and listened with rapt attention, letting Kim explain everything. How Amanda shared the naked picture with her. How she’d leaked the photo and humiliated Amanda beyond belief. How she’d been ostracized by her (now) former friends and all but kicked off the cheerleading squad. But most of all how badly she wished that she could take it all back.

After she was done, she finally worked up the courage to look at Trini. The other girl was staring hard at the wall in front of her, completely silent. It was a long uncomfortable moment before she said anything.

“So that’s how you fell from grace, huh?”

“Yeah,” Kim said quietly. “And there isn’t a day that goes by where I don’t regret what I did.”

“That doesn’t take back what you did to Amanda, Kim,” Trini said, an edge to her voice. “And as much as I hate that girl’s guts, no one deserves their privacy invaded like that. No one. How could you? Why would you ever think that was a good idea? I mean, revenge porn, Kim? That’s the lowest you can get. I-I just….” She sighed heavily leaned forward, elbows on her knees.

Kim’s worst fear was coming true. Trini couldn’t even look at her. Her mouth was set in a grim line and Kim didn’t know what to say.

“I thought you were different,” Trini whispered. She was feeling betrayed. The girl she had fallen for, the girl who made her heart ache, the girl who made butterflies stir in her stomach, the girl who was her best friend had done the unthinkable. Trini wasn’t even sure if she could still trust Kim or not anymore.

“I am,” she insisted. “I’m still the same Kimberly Hart who trains everyday with you and the boys. I’m still the same person who saved the world from an ugly green alien lady who wanted to destroy it. And I’m still the same person who would die for any one of you. I made a mistake, Trini, and you all deserve to know what I did.”

Trini closed her eyes and stood up, walking over to Kim’s still open window. “I just…I need time. To process it and…,” she trailed off before finally looking up at Kim. “Just give me some time.”

Kim swallowed hard, blinking back tears that threatened to escape. She didn’t—couldn’t—lose Trini. She was her best friend. They understood each other and meshed in a way the other Rangers never would with either of them. They had their own unique relationship that allowed the two of them to be stronger together than when they were with any of the others.

As Trini swung a leg through her window, ready to climb down, Kim couldn’t help it. She just had to ask. “Do you hate me now?”

That stopped Trini right in her tracks. “No,” she said eventually, staring at Kim with sad eyes. “I don’t think I could ever hate you, Kim.” Then she was gone.

Hockey Camp - Auston Matthews (Part 7)

Auston Matthews x Reader

Word Count: 2671

Warnings: Some profanity, what else is new

A/N: This is the longest chapter I’ve written yet, but many important things happen, so stick around! Also, just wanted thank you for your enthusiasm for this story, and for all the likes, reblogs, and lovely messages you send my way :) it really helps me stay motivated to keep writing!

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6]

PART SEVEN

It’s been about a week since it happened. Or, nine days, seven hours, and forty-six minutes to be exact. Not like you’re counting or anything.

You’re sitting on the edge of your bed in the cabin, watching Steph apply makeup. It’s Friday, and there’s some social event, movie night-type thing going on in less than an hour with everyone at the camp. It’s optional, however, so you’re definitely skipping out on this one.

Steph, on the other hand, has been freaking out about what she’s going to wear for the past two hours. Apparently Mitch said he would, “see her there”, and so she’s turned into a hectic mess, pulling out every bit of non-athletic clothing she brought with her, trying it on and twirling around in front of the mirror. Eventually, you convinced her that her olive green top and white tennis skirt were perfectly acceptable for a movie night.

She turns to you suddenly. “How does my eyeliner look?”

You glance up briefly. Her wings are perfectly even. “It looks great, Steph. Try not to stress too much.”

“Yeah, but I think my right wing isn’t as thick as my left. I’ve got to make them perfect.” She turns back to the mirror, sticking her tongue out as she drags the liquid liner across her eyelid.

“Steph, Mitch isn’t going to care about your eyeliner.”

“I know, but-”

“But nothing. He definitely already likes you, so he wouldn’t care if you showed up wearing a mismatched pajamas and eyeliner only on one eye.”

“Okay, you’re right” Steph agrees, putting down the liner. “Maybe I should just calm down. It’s just a movie night, not a date.”

“That’s only what I’ve been telling you for the past three hours.”

She rolls her eyes. “So, what are you wearing?”

You glance down at your go-to pj’s: grey sweats and a well-loved Maple Leafs t-shirt. “This?”

“To a movie night?”

“I’m not going.”

“What?” she cries. “Not happening, I am not going alone.”

“Steph,” you say firmly. “I can’t go.”

She narrows her eyes at you. “So what if Auston’s there? You don’t have to talk to him or look at him or anything.”

“Yeah, not like that will be hard or anything considering him and Mitch are attached at the hip,” you point out.

“If you really don’t care about Auston as much as you claim to, and truly are putting hockey first, then this shouldn’t be a problem. But obviously by the way you’ve been hiding from the boy all week, you have still have some feelings for h-”

You stand up. “I’ll go.”

Steph can barely conceal her smile. “I’m assuming you didn’t bring anything cute to wear with you.”

“Are we basing it off your definition of cute or mine?”

“What do you think?” Steph digs around in her pile of discarded clothes and chucks something white and lacy at you. “Put that on.”


Forty minutes later, you’re wearing Steph’s shirt, a white tank top that has a low cut v-neck lined with a tasteful amount of lace, your favourite comfy cardigan, and some jean shorts. Steph had curled the ends of your hair and you’d put on a touch of mascara and brow gel. You felt pretty and confident. So what if Auston was there? That didn’t mean you couldn’t have a good time.

“You ready?” Steph asks, sliding on her sandals. “I texted Alexis and told her we’d meet her and the other girls there.”

“Sounds good,” you say, taking one last glance at yourself in the mirror. Tonight would be fun.

As you and Steph make the short journey from the cabin to the rec hall, where the movie was being screened, you take in the peacefulness of the night. The moon hangs full and bright in the dark sky and crickets chirrup from the bushes surrounding the path you’re walking on. A warm breeze ruffles your hair. Sometimes you forget to stop and appreciate everything that life has to offer. You’re always in such a rush to leap from one goal to the next, that you tend to take the little things for granted - like taking a walk at night with your best friend and teammate, at the most elite hockey camp in the country. All the hours of hard work and dedication have brought you here, and will continue to carry you wherever you decide to go.

You sigh loudly, satisfied. Steph glances over at you quizzically. “What are you smiling about?”

“I’m just so glad we’re here.” You turn to look at her, and you see in her eyes that she understands the significance behind your statement.

“Yeah. Yeah, me too.” She reaches over and squeezes your hand.

You squeeze back before letting go and hooking your pinky with hers. “D’you want to run? For old time’s sake?”

She doesn’t answer but takes off, nearly yanking your arm from its socket. You sprint to keep up with her, the two of you looking like idiots as you make your way towards the hall, laughing and swinging your arms around like little girls.


The hall is already busy, most of the players already milling around, grabbing their seats on the set of wooden bleachers. You and Steph greet Alexis and your teammates before getting in line for snacks. You force yourself to not look around for him, and instead keep your eyes straight forward, trying to decide what you want to eat.

You’re lost in the long list of chocolate bars when someone taps you on the shoulder. You turn around to face Mitch and several other of his teammates you’ve seen around before, but never formally met. For a half second, your heart drops, disappointed that Auston’s not with them. But why do you care so much? You should be happy he isn’t here.

“Oh, hey Mitch,” you exclaim, nudging Steph with your elbow.

She whips around and blushes as Mitch grins widely at her. “Hi Mitch.”

“Hey Steph.” Mitch looks down at his feet, suddenly reserved. “You look um…you look great.”

“Thank-you,” Steph says, tucking a strand of her hair shyly behind her ear.

“So Mitch, are we going to get an introduction, or are you going to stand around all night embarrassing yourself trying to compliment a pretty girl?” one of the blond teammates teases.

Mitch’s face goes red and he scowls at the blond guy. “Shut-up.” Mitch jabs a finger towards him. “Steph, Y/N, this obnoxious Swedish prick is Willy-”

“That’s William to you.”

Mitch ignores him, pointing to the second guy, who’s also blond, but has thicker, slightly wavy hair. “This is Kasperi, or Kappy as we call him.” Kappy is quiet, but gives a little wave hello. 

“And Brownie.” Mitch throws his arm around the redhead standing beside him.

“My actual name’s Connor, for the record.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you all,” you say, smiling. You turn to Steph, “What do you want to eat? It’s on me.”

She glances over at the concession. “Oh, um, I’ll have-”

“No, Y/N, don’t worry, I got it.” Mitch pulls his wallet out of his shorts’ pocket.

“So, you’re paying for us as well?” Will asks, raising his eyebrows.

Mitch gives him a look. “I think you can answer your own question.”

Will walks up to the concession stand. “Hi there, could I have a large coke and some sour cherry blasters? Oh, and could you throw a twix bar in as well? It’s on the guy behind me with the hat.” He grins and points to Mitch, who is not impressed.

The rest of the guys order their snacks, all the while Mitch scowls at them.

“Are you sure, Mitch? I don’t mind paying for myself,” you whisper.

He smiles and shakes his head. “Thanks for the offer, Y/N, but it’s alright. I’ll get them back for this, trust me.”

Once you all have your food, you make your way over to the bleachers. There aren’t many seats left, so you let Mitch and Steph squeeze into the space for two people on the lower bench, while you, Kasperi, Will, and Connor sit on the bench above them.

“So,” Will says, rubbing his hands together. “Let’s make a bet on how long it will take for Mitch to get the balls to ask Steph out. Thirty bucks on the table. Losers pay ten each.”

“I’m going for two weeks,” Connor says, taking a sip of his drink. “He always delays.”

Kasperi nods in agreement. “Same, but I think not until camp is almost over. Mitch…he overthinks things. Sometimes you just gotta go for it.”

“Okay, solid guesses boys, but for myself I’m gonna go with a week and a half. What do you think Y/N?” Will turns to you.

“Never.”

“Ooh, damn,” Connor exclaims.

You roll your eyes and continue, “Steph will ask him out before he does. Boys can honestly be more indecisive than girls when it comes to dating.”

“True,” Kasperi agrees. “That’s probably why Auston took so long to make a move, right?”

You freeze. Kappy notices and appears slightly perplexed. “I mean, you are Auston’s girl, no?”

“Um, no. I’m not.” You feel like you’re about to cry.

“Oh, I’m sorry. He just talks about this girl, Y/N, all the time, so I just assumed-”

“Kappy, shut-up,” Connor interjects.

“No, it’s okay.”

An awkward silence falls over the four of you.

Will steps in and directs the conversation elsewhere: “So has anyone seen the prequel to this movie? I thought the acting was terrible.”

Immediately, Connor pipes up: “Are you insulting my man Chris Pratt?”

“Maybe.”

With that, Connor goes off on a tangent about how excellent Pratt is in a number of films. The conversation is relieved of its tense atmosphere and you feel yourself relax again.

You catch Will’s eye and shoot him a grateful smile. He nods and winks.


The movie isn’t great, but it isn’t terrible either. Will’s sarcastic commentary makes up for the film’s lack of a plot line. You find yourself bursting out laughing one too many times, earning you glares from the other players seated around you. By the time the film ends, you’re both giggling at something stupid one of the characters said in a dramatic moment.

“Who even says that? His freaking cat just died!”

“I know. And he says it so seriously too. He’s all like…” You imitate the dumbfounded look on the actor’s face and Will cracks up.

“Whoever the casting director is, they should be fired, honestly. We could do a better job.”

“I really think we could. Screw hockey, Hollywood, here we come!”

You both laugh and then sigh. The hall is clearing out, and out of the corner of your eye, you catch Steph and Mitch walking out of the door, holding hands. You smile to yourself, happy for them.

“So, do you think I could get your number?”

“Huh?” You look up at Will, realizing he’s been talking to you.

“Your number. For casting purposes, of course.” He winks.

“Oh. Um, sure!” You dig your phone out from your back pocket, unlocking it and handing it to him. He does likewise, and you type your name into his phone, putting a little film emoji next to your name.

“There you go.” You hand his phone back. He grins at you, and places your phone in your hand. ‘Willy’ is his contact name, alongside a smiley face sticking its tongue out.

You’re about to say something else to Will when you see him. He’s standing near the exit, glaring furiously at Will’s back. The smile slides off your face.

“Hey, I gotta run. Steph just said she needs me to help her with something - girl emergency.”

He frowns. “I didn’t see any text on your-” Will starts, but you cut him off.

“See you later, bye!”

You speed walk around people standing and chatting in the hall and slip out the exit door, pointedly not looking in Auston’s direction.

You’re walking quickly towards the cabins, hoping you can avoid him, but you hear his footsteps crunching on the gravel as he breaks into a jog.

“Y/N!” he calls.

You ignore him and walk faster.

“Y/N, I know you can hear me!”

You stop and swing around to face him. “What do you want Auston?”

“I just want to talk.” He stands in front of you, his brown eyes so earnest and hopeful that you can’t say no.

“Okay, so talk.”

“Can we go somewhere else…like, a more private place?”

“Fine.”

“Is by the beach area okay?”

“Yeah, sure.”

You both walk in silence. You can feel Auston glancing periodically over at you, trying to gauge your expression. However, you purposely keep your face blank of any emotion. You have to be strong.

When you reach the beach area, he stops by one of the benches facing the volleyball court. “D’you wanna sit down?”

You don’t answer but sit down on the bench, keeping your eyes forward and away from him. He does the same.

There’s a long pause. “Listen, Y/N, I just want some answers. You’ve made me very confused, and I’m not sure if it’s something I did or said that upset you, but I-”

“No - Auston, I already told you that you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“But I had to,” he insists, looking at you very seriously. “Why else did you run away from me? I thought everything was going great and then all of a sudden you just went cold. Unless…” he pauses, putting it together in his mind. “Unless you like Willy. That’s it, isn’t it? It’s so obvious, I can’t believe I didn’t notice it before. Oh man, I feel like a total idiot.”

He goes to stand up but you stop him. “Auston, no. I don’t like Willy that way. He’s nice, but I literally met him today.”

“So you don’t like me is what you’re saying.”

“No, Auston, I do. You’re a great guy, it’s just-”

“It’s just better if we’re friends, right? Don’t worry, you don’t have to give me the speech, I already know it by heart.” He starts to stand up again, but you grab his wrist.

“Auston!” you shout, more harshly than you intend. “Would you stop jumping to conclusions for one minute and just let me explain?”

He sits down, very quiet.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself. “Auston…I like you. More than a friend. I think you’re funny and incredibly talented and not to mention crazy hot. I don’t think I’ve ever been more attracted to someone in my life.” You drop his gaze, a sudden wave of shyness coming over you. “I can’t believe I just said that,” you laugh to yourself.

“So what’s the problem then?” Auston asks softly.

“The problem is…the problem is that I can’t be distracted. I’ve given up my entire life to hockey, and I’m finally on the verge of obtaining my goal, the dream I’ve had since I was a little girl. I got into this camp, and I was so excited, because here was my big break. But then you came along, and everything changed. Suddenly, all I could think about was you, not hockey, and that scared me. It fucking terrified me. I thought to myself, what happens if I miss my one shot at my dream because I’m pining after some guy? And if that happens, I know I will regret that for the rest of my life. I will never be able to forgive myself.” You pause to take a breath. Auston’s face is unreadable, his eyes cast downwards as he takes everything in.

“So that’s why I ran away. That’s why this,” you say, gesturing between the two of you, “isn’t going to work.” You stand up, giving him one last apologetic look. “I’m sorry.”

And with that, you turn and walk away, leaving Auston alone on the bench.

[Part 8]

pain is part of the package, darling

I should be working *cough* WIPs *cough* on so many things but my muse has abandoned me and I couldn’t concentrate so instead this happened. This is one of those Someone-on-the-team-gets-a-wake-up-call-in-regards-to-Tony. It happens in a bit of a different context though…as it turns out my mind really works in weird ways. Let’s just say that not everything is as it seems in this ‘verse. Or I’m way more obvious than I realise, which is entirely possible. Enjoy :)

Summary: IronFalcon. It’s pure coincidence, the first time Sam notices the bruises. And, just like that, he can’t stop noticing them. Read on AO3.


Part I

They haven’t been in a fight in over three weeks, which is the only reason why Sam even notices.

The team has come together in the kitchen on one of those rare Sunday mornings where everyone is accounted for and nobody is in hiding to avoid retribution for their latest prank, which is in itself unusual. So is Tony joining them, not wearing his perfectly fitted bespoke suit but a lose T-shirt and sweatpants.

Which is not adorable at all, because Tony is a grown man and Sam really needs to get a handle on this ridiculous crush he’s been harbouring for his team mate for an awkwardly long time. Even when Tony is glaring blearily at everyone but Clint—who hands him a cup of freshly brewed coffee, which explains the lack of hostility—Sam wishes the genius would be leaning against him instead of the damn counter. He never liked the stupid thing anyways—and yes, definitely ridiculous.

Keep reading

Dangerous: Patrick Stump fanfic

A/N: Not going to lie, I’ve gotten a ton of smut requests in my inbox lately… So be ready for a lot of that coming soon. Also a reminder that I’m starting school again so that means my schedule’s going to be really weird, sorry guys. Hope you enjoy this one…

Anonymous said:
Hi! Could you do a Patrick Stump X Reader where the guys are teasing him about the reader always faking her orgasms and when he gets home he gets really dom with her? Thank you


*Reader’s POV*

Sunlight slowly filtered in through the blinds of the bedroom and you heard your boyfriend hum softly beside you, placing a light kiss on your forehead. Flashes of last night swirled in your mind. It was his lips so sweet and his hands on your body and the way he was so gentle, so kind, so caring. It was his kiss and getting lost in his eyes and holding onto him so tight and shedding the layers of your clothes until it was only the two of you. It was late hours of the night when you were still exploring each other’s bodies, trying to savor each inch of skin, pausing to catch your breath before going at it again. There was nobody else you would rather be with. He stirred slightly, then sat up as if to leave, and you sleepily grabbed ahold of his arm. “Patrick,” you mumbled, yawning halfway through his name.

“Yeah?” he chuckled, amused.

“Where you going?” you wondered, rubbing the sleep from your eyes and sitting up as well. The two of you had a long night yesterday, barely getting any sleep, and both of your bodies were sore by the time you woke up. You didn’t complain though, Patrick was always so good to you, and even though you lost a couple hours of sleep and you felt sort of shitty the next day, it was always worth it.

“To the studio,” he laughed. “Remember? I have a job?”

“But I want you to stay with me,” you whined playfully. “Just a couple more hours.”

“I have to go, baby,” he argued. “But I’ll be back soon. I promise.”

“Okay,” you sighed, laying back in bed and closing your eyes.


*Patrick’s POV*

When Patrick arrived at the studio, he wasn’t prepared for what followed. “Hey Pat,” Pete smirked when all the boys had sat down around the table, taking a break from recording for a little while. “You uh, have an eventful night with y/n yesterday?”

“Shut your mouth,” Patrick narrowed his eyes. He was cranky from not getting enough sleep last night, plus, he was talking to Pete, who was known for being quite the antagonist when it came to picking an argument. “You’re just making shit up.”

“I might be, but the hickeys on your neck speak for themselves,” Pete snickered.

“What?” Patrick’s eyes went wide, self-consciously covering his neck with his hand.

“Yeah, it’s hard to lie when there’s obvious evidence,” Joe chuckled.

“How’s she been treating you anyways?” Andy raised an eyebrow.

“She’s been treating me just fine,” Patrick grumbled.  “Why such sudden interest in y/n?”

“I don’t know,” Andy shrugged. “I mean, it’s your first girlfriend in a long time.”

“Yeah ‘Trick. How are you holding up?” Joe gave a playful jab at his side. “You haven’t kissed a girl in ages. Is she too much to handle? I’m sure she’s been around plenty of times before.”

“You’re still an amateur,” Pete laughed. “What’s going to happen when she finally wants to do the do?”

“We’ve done the do plenty of times,” Patrick muttered. “And it’s honestly none of your business.”

“Woah! Hold up! You’ve fucked y/n?” Pete’s eyes lit up.

“I’m pretty sure it would be the other way around,” Joe teased. “I mean, she definitely tops.”

“Shut up,” Andy stifled a laugh. “I need to know his answer!”

“Yes, I have,” Patrick admitted shyly, although more agitated than embarrassed. “Now will you drop the subject please?”

“Woah, not so fast,” Joe insisted. “You said you’ve had sex before, but how many times?”

“I bet she’s the one to initiate it,” Pete snickered.

“Hell, she probably has to teach him what to do,” Andy rolled his eyes playfully.

“Do you think he can even get her to cum?” Joe asked.

“Nah, she probably just fakes her orgasms,” Pete chuckled.

“Will you shut the fuck up?” Patrick finally shouted, banging his fists on the table angrily. “That’s my girlfriend you’re talking about, and what we do in our spare time shouldn’t concern any of you.” He shoved himself away from the table, marching out the door, extremely frustrated.

“Hey ‘Trick, come on. We’re just playing,” Joe tried to get him to come back, but Patrick shook his head, still furious.

“You’re all a bunch of dicks,” he spat, grabbing the handle of the door. “Learn to take a hint and fuck off.” He slammed the door shut, leaving Andy, Joe, and Pete completely shocked. Patrick didn’t get angry often, and to see him this riled up over something was rare.


*Reader’s POV*

When the door swung open and your boyfriend walked in, you were extremely confused. You were on the couch, reading a book, relaxed, dressed in sweatpants and a comfy bra. “You’re home early,” you raised your eyebrows. However, as soon as you saw the anger in Patrick’s eyes, as well as the way he shut the door angrily and stomped over to where you were sitting, being home early was obviously not the problem. “What’s wrong?”

Patrick didn’t even give you another second to speak before he crashed his lips against yours, pushing you back into the couch, straddling your hips, kissing you passionately. Your eyes went wide, surprised by his sudden urge to do this, the way his hands gripped your arms and how he shoved you back into the cushions. “I’m going to fuck you so good,” he whispered in your ear, giving you chills as his lips trailed down your neck. He had never been that dominant and you had never seen him so angry. He was usually always hesitant and slow and calm. Not that you were complaining though. This was actually really hot. You had never seen this side of him before.

“Damn,” you moaned as he unclasped your bra and began kissing down towards of your breasts, massaging the other in his palm.

“Quiet sweetheart,” he instructed, hands trailing down to tug your sweatpants and underwear off at the same time, discarding them towards the floor. “I’m in control this time.”

“Fuck,” you mumbled, sitting up, trying to unbutton his dress shirt and miserably failing. Your hands were shaking and you weren’t thinking clearly. You fumbled with the buttons before giving up and tearing it open, shedding the fabric off his chest and tossing it towards the floor.

“Naughty girl,” he clicked his tongue, gaze wandering towards the mess of buttons and fabric on the floor before flickering his eyes back up to meet yours. “I guess you’ll have to make it up to me then, won’t you?”

“Shit Patrick,” you exhaled, trailing a hand down his body, catching your breath. “What brought this out of you all of a sudden?”

“I just really need to fuck you,” he murmured, impatient as his lips connected with yours again, kissing you as you unzipped his pants and then tugged down his boxers. “Please.”

“I’m all yours,” you reassured, watching as he climbed on top of you, lips moving down your body, finally pushing into you, earning a loud gasp. “Oh god.”

“You’re so good baby,” he mumbled against your skin, hands on your back pressing you closer towards him, pushing you into the couch cushions with each thrust, going deeper with each inch. You started moaning, scratching his shoulders with your nails, barely hanging on. He smirked. “Going too fast, babe?”

“No,” you barely shook your head. “Perfect.”

“Good,” he smiled. “Because I think I could start getting used to this.”

“Fuck,” you bit down on your lower lip and tried to suppress a moan as you got closer to your climax. “I’m close.”

“Cum for me then,” he whispered, thrusting even harder. “I want to feel you.”

“Goddammit,” you gasped, his voice in your ear triggering your orgasm, his movements slowing as he drew closer. It wasn’t long before he came undone too, both of you exhausted and gasping for air, him turning over and holding you in his arms, the two of you laying on the couch.

“You’re so good y/n,” he murmured, placing a soft kiss on your forehead.

“What the hell was that all about?” you chuckled, still confused why this happened so fast and so sudden.

“Pete and the boys were being assholes,” he shook his head. “Said I didn’t fuck you good enough and how you’ve had better and stuff. I needed to prove them wrong.”

“Patrick,” you frowned, holding his head in your hands, placing a kiss on his lips. “You don’t need to prove yourself to anyone. Not even me. You’re already amazing.”

“You’re too kind,” he rolled his eyes.

“I’m being truthful,” you insisted, giving a soft smile.

“Yeah, well I do believe you owe me a little something else,” Patrick gave a sly smile, eyes darting to the mess of fabric identified as the dress shirt that still was left on the ground.

“And you call me the naughty one,” you smirked.

“Come on,” he insisted, tracing circles on your back with his fingers. “We have plenty of time. I mean, I did get off work early.”

“You’re dangerous,” you chuckled. “And the best part?”

“Hmm?” he raised an eyebrow, curious to find out.

“I’m the only one who knows,” you grinned.