Harry saw, with immense satisfaction, a disheveled and and soot-blackened Umbridge tottering sweaty-faced from Professor Flitwick’s classroom. “Thank you so much Professor!” said Professor Flitwick in his squeaky little voice. “I could have got rid of the sparklers myself, of course, but I wasn’t sure whether I had the authority...” Beaming, he closed his classroom door in her snarling face.
“But you lost,” Eric says gently, afraid Jack’s about to realize he’s made a mistake. “And you won,” Jack counters, just as gently, cupping Bitty’s face. “And you have no idea how proud I am. Six years ago you’d pass out if you got hit. Tonight you ran me into the boards twice!” “Cause you were being an asshole, Sweetpea,” Eric defends, fighting the warmth rising in his cheeks. “And it was great, but you know who helped you through that? I did,” Jack grins. “Checked you so many times you forgot you hated me. So, it’s a bit like I won too, you know? I got to see the man I love, the man I want to spend the rest of my life with, fearless.” Oh. That’s. Eric grabs a handful of Jack’s jersey and pulls him down into a kiss, heedless of the flashing lights and screaming spectators. When they separate Jack’s expression is dazed. “So you’ll marry me?” Jack cradles Eric’s sweaty face and peppers kisses across his cheek. “Please say yes. Make it official.”
The Schooners win game seven and dethrone the defending champion Falconers to claim Seattle’s first national title.
Eric was definitely not expecting Jack to propose immediately after losing.
(A rework of the ‘Game 7 PVD vs SEA’ prompt that totally retcons some NHL!Bitty stuff, so timeline-wise: the Falconers took the cup Eric’s second year with the Schooners. The Schooners win the following season.)
Game Seven. Third period. Eric’s running on adrenaline, blue Gatorade, and rage.
Jack and the rest of the Falconers first line are racing to catch up, but Eric is ‘criminally fast’ (thank you ESPN for the lovely descriptor), and it’s almost too easy to whip the puck to Carter and wait for the siren.
Snowy can’t stop it. The Schooners will win in regulation.
For a brief, terrifying moment, Eric sees Morin’s breakaway as the death knell of his relationship. He has flashes of Freshman year and he thinks ‘Jack is going to hate me’.
Phil thinks he is being sneaky when he starts kissing your neck.
“Philip Lester. What are you doing?” “Just given you a little love.”
Wondering hands. Always running up and down your thighs.
He always makes an adorable little squeak when your hands find the hair at the nape of his neck giving a little pull.
Phil always whispering little nothings in your ear before pulling you by the wrist to his room.
Being impatient when it comes to try and get your shirt and bra off.
Kisses all along your collarbones and the top of your chest.
So many kisses everywhere. It can be a bit overwhelming to the senses when its like he is praising every inch of you.
He becomes unable to find any of his words when you’re giving him head.
His hands are in your hair making sure to keep any rogue hair out of your face.
“What a beautiful woman.”
Phil making you stop because he doesn’t want to cum yet. Especially when he hasn't had the opportunity to give you any pleasure.
When the two of you finally get comfortable you are sitting on Phil’s lap facing him.
“Love to watch your face. And kiss it.”
Always starting off slow then becoming a bit messy with pace as you rest your hands on his shoulder meeting his thrusts with your own.
Actually swearing when he is being so intimate with you.
“Loves to hold onto your ass giving a squeeze as he helps lift you up and down.
Begging for you to cum as he rubs strong circles on your bundle of nerves.
“Cum for me love. Need to see that pretty face.”
Needing to kiss Phil to try and muffle some of your moans and cries to try and not disturb the neighbours.
Phil biting and then kissing into your shoulder as he releases his own buildup.
“I fucking love you.” “Love you more.”
Always having to push his hair off if his slightly sweaty face.
Finishing the night off with a warm bath and some cuddles.
Loves teasing. You giggling and hitting his chest calling him names only makes him more riled up.
Dan loves to give you hickeys. You told him that it’s kinda weird that he enjoys giving them so much as he isn’t a sixteen-year-old boy.”Love to see them in the morning on your skin. Then the world will know you are mine.”
You definitely can’t help yourself from kissing along his jaw up to his dimples.
When Dan finally has enough of the teasing and touching he whispers in your ear.“Here on the couch or in the bed?” You, of course, hitting him in the chest as you look back at him and then back to Phil who is sitting on the other side of the room.”So here?”
Once the two of you get to his room he immediately pushes you on the bed. Making you giggle as he hovers over you kissing your cheeks to make you laugh more.
Both of your clothes being tossed every which way around the room.
Always a fight for dominance when making out.
When the two of you finally get comfortable Dan can’t help but tease your entrance with the tip of his cock making you wait in agony.
Always making sure to start off with deep long thrusts making sure to hit your G-spot repeatedly.
The both of you using all the swears that the two of you know.
Giving little spanks to your bum when you’re bent over.
Dan making sure that you cum first. “I know you want the release love. Cum for me. Cum on me. Love to feel you on my cock.”
His name so easily leaving your lips repeatedly.
When dan comes undone you place kisses to his cheeks smiling into his skin as you rest your head on his shoulder.
Dan would never admit it but his favourite part is when the two of you cuddle in the afterglow of your orgasms.
It had been exactly six days, four hours, and forty-two minutes since you had spoken to Peter or Ned. You didn’t really know how to act like a normal human being without their obnoxious tactics ringing in your ears of every second of every day. Especially since your small crush on Peter was slightly creeping up on you as the days passed on. They were your best friends, always had been. But, this time, it wasn’t a delicate topic, apparently.
You had walked up to them at lunch almost a week ago, clutching your lunch tray with both hands, a smile plastered on your face as you were excited as all to tell them your news about the algebra test getting pushed back to Thursday. All three of you stayed up so late the night before studying for that test, and by the end of the night, none of you had any idea what was going on, which was odd. You usually nailed math within three seconds. But not this time. So, your excitement was very evident on your face.
You approached them, Peter’s back slightly turned around as Ned followed the position, their eyes fixate don something clearly much more important than lunch. Your eyebrows furrowed on confusion as you set down your backpack next to you and your lunch tray in front of you, taking a seat at the gray lunch. Your stare becomes more intent, neither of the boys turning around to notice presence.
“Uh, hello?” you questioned, knocking your knuckles against the hard surface. All of the sudden, their ears perk at the the sudden noise, both heads turning around completely.
Eyebrows raised, you make direct eye contact with Peter, his brown orbs widening at the sight of your presence, “Oh! H-Hey, Y/N.”
Ned’s hair falls in front of his eyes, a guilty yet seemingly confused smile rolls over his lips, shoulders slouching a little, “Heyyyy,” he said, rolling out the ‘y’.
Your arms fold across your chest, suspiciously giving them a stare down, eyes narrowing as they slide from Peter to Ned, and back to Peter, “What are doing back there?” Your tone serious yet skeptical.
Peter shot you a weak smile, “Nothing!” he blurted out suddenly, eyes still widen at your suspicious glare. “We were just checking our work from Mrs. Smith’s lab yesterday.”
“Uh, no,” you interjected, shaking your head, looking at them as if they thought you were stupid, “We turned in our labs yesterday. They’re already graded, Peter.”
His mouth popped open and closed numerous times, looking like a gaping fish out of water, knowing he’d been caught so easily. You scooted up further on the sat, placing your folded arms on the table, “What were you really doing, Peter?” you questioned, your tension rising for the last time.
Ned shot up, belting out before Peter could say anything, “It’s nothing! We can’t tell you, Y/N. Like we really, can’t tell you.”
Peter looked from you to Ned multiple times before shaking his head up and down, signalling his agreement with Ned, “We just can’t.”
What was he hiding?
You felt your tension rise, ruining your previous thoughts, “I would never keep a secret from you two, ever,” you let out sternly, cracking your knuckles.
Lies. You’re such a liar.
Peter and Ned both looked at each other quickly before shooting you a guilty look for what felt like the thousandth time in a matter of five minutes. Your Y/E/C eyes pierced through Ned’s quickly, then shooting toward Peter’s gaze. Y/E/C pierced into his sparkling brown gaze and you felt disconnected with your best friend for the first time in your life. You share everything with each other, why not this.
You felt excluded and betrayed. Picking up your backpack, you roll your eyes in their direction once more before muttering, “Whatever. Guess we’re not as close as I had thought,” the words dripped like venom off your lips, anger bubbling deep inside you. You whisk away quickly, not looking back at what you had thought, your best friends faces.
The next few days, you felt the build up of tension between you and Peter. Every time he would see you in the hallway, he would give you a stern look before slamming his locker shut, ignoring your distant presence, and go to class. You began to realize your slight crush on him was fading, fast. You couldn’t believe how your two friends could keep anything from you, and Peter couldn’t believe you would be mad at him for something as little as an untold secret. He knew you would never keep anything from him, but this was just too big of a matter.
Or so he thought.
“Call Mr. Stark, Jane” you told your suit, yanking your mask off, revealing your sweaty face in the mirror gazing back at you.
“Calling Tony Stark..” Jane, as you liked to call her, initiated the call to Mr. Stark. You slumped down onto your bed, lying back on your pillow in complete exhaustion from this weeks past events.
“Miss Y/N, what can I do for you today?” Tony’s voice now evident in your ear.
You sat up immediately, wrapping your arm around your bedpost, “Yes, Mr. Stark, I was wondering if you had anything for me to possibly do? I’m very… bored,“ you said hesitantly but confidently, yearning for Tony to give you something to do to take your mind off everything going on around in your ‘normal’ life.
Tony’s breath was steady in the earpiece for a few moments before sighing heavily, "Okay, Miss Y/L/N, I have something, well someone I want you to meet. I’ve been wanting to do this for a while, but haven’t gotten around to it. Another… project.”
Your eyes lit up and your heart quickened at the thought of another superhero, “Yes, Mr. Stark! I would love to! Anything I need to know about this other… project?” you questioned, arms bending down to take off your blue and yellow suit, preparing for the mission.
“Yes, actually. They’re around your age, kind of annoying. Rather… talkative,” he said with slight annoyance in his voice.
You chuckled lightly, “Bye, Mr. Stark see you soon!” you yelled a little too excitedly before ending the call as you quickly shoved your suit into your bag. As soon as your foot hit the door mat, your mind instantly began to wonder into thoughts of this other super-human.
What were they like? Were their powers similar to yours? Not many people can teleport and or telepathically communicate with one another. Were they a guy? Oh god, what if he’s hot? Well, may be nice to have some eye candy your age on missions. What if I know them? Oh, c'mon, that’s almost impossible.Th chances of that happening are like a billion to one.
When you arrived at Stark Tower, Tony leading you to your so called 'mission’, your excitement ran up and down your veins. Your stomach did somersaults ever second as your feet kept a steady pace behind Tony.
Interrupting your thoughts, Tony, turned around to speak to you, still walking, “So, Miss Y/L/N, I have had this in mind for quite some time now. I just thought with being the only two teenagers on the team, if you met someone similar to you, you’d feel more comfortable,” he continued, typing in a pass-code on a tablet as you approached a huge gray door.
“But, you know of Spider-Man, right?” he questioned, eyebrows raised at your nervous gaze. Your eyes widened as the name rolled off his tongue.
“O-Of course, I mean he’s a new legend here,” you attempted to let out calmly as Tony still looked at you. “I had no idea he was so young.”
“Oh yes, he’s your age. That’s who I wanted you to meet today, but not 'Spider-Man’. The character behind the mask.”
Your stomach’s somersaults picked up. Oh my god, Spider-Man is a legend. You were a new trainee, so you looked in awe at this young yet legendary person behind the red mask.
Tony opened one last door, turning to you and stopping once you were inside, “Okay, I’ll send him out here. You stay here,” he smiled slightly at you as your head nodded vigorously in his direction. He walked behind yet another large door to retrieve your new colleague.
Okay, act cool. He’s just someone who’s just like you. Tony may even send you on missions with these boy, so you got this. When he walks in, just stick your hand out politely and say to him, “Hello, I’m-”
Your ears instantly heard the familiar sounding voice echo into your ears like something so delicate it would hurt if you didn’t understand what was standing right in front of you. The scratchiness of the tone hit you like a bus, interrupting your thoughts. Slowly yet threateningly, you turned around, glistening brown was what hit you first as your best friend Peter Parker stood in front of you, holding the unrecognizable blue and red suit by his side.
“Oh my god. You’re a superhero?,” you let out, eyes widening at the boy standing in front of you.
Peter blinked rapidly, his mouth barely able to let out any words at your figure holding the blue and yellow suit, “I-I don’t even know what to say.”
You nodded your head in agreement, slowly walking towards him. Your heart rate sped up and your face turned a bright red, due to the fact Peter knew your secret and you know knew his. Your eyes captivated his in a gaze for what felt like years, your breaths now mingling at your close proximity.
You were surprised by your next set of actions. Lifting a hand towards his face, you set it on his face softly, your hands laying on top of his muscular jaw bone, your voice in awe, “I just can’t believe it’s you.”
He smiledsoftly at your actions, his eyes scanning your face, looking for some kind of explanation. You then realized you now knew what kept you two from talking for a week. Your lips curled into a sly smile, “So, this must have been one big lab Mrs. Smith had to grade.”
His expression switched to a joyful one, reaching forward to wrap his arms around you. You followed him, your arms enveloping him in a bone crushing hug as he muttered in your ear, “You have no idea.”
Because of this addition on the post by @tinkdw I felt compelled to write a short… thingy. :P
Over You (1264 words)
When Cas comes back as a human, he has nightmares. Dean doesn’t
notice it at first; the bunker is huge and the walls are mostly sound
proof and Cas – well, Cas always looks tired.
And Cas does his best to never let it on that he dreams, every
night, of all the people he killed, all the mistakes he made, all the
knowledge he has lost because his human mind can’t comprehend it
anymore. Some days he wakes up screaming, others crying – often
both. But he never talks about it because, well, if he’s learned
one thing, then this: Winchesters don’t talk about their feelings.
And he’s a Winchester now, at least this much has Dean made clear.
Dean notices when they’re on a case in Iowa, sharing the motel
room because Sam got the short straw and has to observe a haunted
house they’ve theoretically cleared but – better safe than sorry.
It’s almost 2am and Dean’s not even remotely tired so he’s just
idling around when a soft whimper makes him perk up.
It grows louder. At first it’s barely noticeable but after a
while the whimper turns into groans (and not the sexy kind either),
then small cries and Dean can hear Cas’ breath hitching before he
lets out a shout. Dean’s up before he knows what he’s doing,
standing at Cas’ bed. He’s sweaty and his face is distorted into
a grimace; without thinking, Dean grabs Cas’ shoulder and shakes
Cas sits up almost immediately. “I didn’t -” he stutters. “I
didn’t want -”
“Hey, it’s okay,” Dean says softly. “It was a dream.”
He’s surprised by the gentleness in his voice and swallows heavily;
he shouldn’t turn this into a chick flick moment.
“Dean.” Cas recognizes him and immediately recoils; Dean’s
hand is falling from Cas’ shoulder. “I’m sorry.” He sounds
tired. “I – had a bad dream.”
“Yeah, I noticed,” Dean answers.
“I’m sorry,” Cas repeats. “I didn’t want to disturb you.
I can go sleep in Sam’s room if you want.”
Dean shakes his head without even thinking about it. “Dude, no,”
he says forcefully. “That’s not a problem. I’m used to it. Sam
had them all the time. Me… me too.”
“I – I may have had them a lot,” Cas admits. “In the last
weeks. But I didn’t want to disturb you. And it’s not a problem,
really. Don’t feel pressured into doing… something.”
“I’m not. Come on, let’s try to go back to sleep, okay? I’ll
sit here a bit. Watch over you.” He points at the end of the bed.
Cas tilts his head curiously. “You always said I shouldn’t do
this,” he says.
That makes Dean blush. “Well, that was – different,” he
explains. He doesn’t exactly know how, but it - well it was. Most
definitely. “You deserve it,” he adds as an afterthought.
Maybe it’s because Cas is too tired to argue or because he
actually believes what Dean has said, but he agrees and lets himself
fall to sleep shortly after. And it seems to help, very well actually
– no nightmare in sight. Dean doesn’t fall asleep that night but
that’s okay - he can sleep in the Impala, let Sam drive. He’s
always happy when he can.
After that, it becomes a habit. Of course, because Cas is Cas, he
at first puts up a fight – but after the third night in a row where
he needed more caffeine than humanly possible to even held his head
up he realized that this is his best option.
So Dean stops sleeping in his room, instead watching over Cas
every night. He doesn’t mention it to Sam because – it’s no big
deal anyway, and it’s just until Cas stops having these dreams. He
sets up a comfy chair next to Cas’ bed and it works. When Cas has a
nightmare, he wakes him up, they go back to sleep.
No need to talk about it. Not that they don’t talk – actually
they do talk a lot, sometimes for hours at a time. About everything,
being human, their last cases, philosophical questions; sometimes Cas
tries to lure him into a conversation about mathematical equations
because he ‘doesn’t want his skills to get rusty’ but Dean
shuts that down pretty quickly.
They do this for a week until Dean’s back and neck starts to
hurt. He doesn’t say anything because he has enjoyed their nights
together so much that he fears saying anything will threaten whatever
fragile thing they have build together but Cas, of course, notices it
When Dean groans and massages his neck as he sinks into the chair,
Cas sighs and pointedly looks at his bed. “My bed is pretty big,
you know,” he says.
“Um,” Dean says. “Okay?”
“It’s just – I see that you’re hurting. And I feel bad.
Because I – I feel like my happiness comes at your expense. I don’t
- I don’t want to be a burden.”
“You’re not, Cas. I’m just old and cranky and
shouldn’t be doing this stuff anymore. But if I can handle a
wendigo I can handle a fucking chair.”
“Well, you don’t have to.”
They don’t talk about it for that evening but when it’s 2AM
and Dean wakes up with the worst crick in his neck that he has ever
experienced, Cas wakes up and holds up his blanket as an invitation.
“Come on,” he says and it’s not a plea, it’s not a
suggestion, it’s an order.
So, of course, Dean obeys. He’s shaking and sweating at the
prospect of sharing a bed with Cas, but he obeys. It doesn’t
mean anything, he thinks. Cas is Cas. He just wants to be nice to me.
It doesn’t mean anything. He doesn’t sleep that night.
The next night, he’s in bed with Cas from the beginning. He
almost doesn’t dare to move but he’s tired, so tired,
and when he falls asleep he finds himself drifting closer to Cas;
almost but not quite touching. They don’t talk about it afterwards.
The third night it all goes down. Of course he’s lying in Cas’
bed and of course he’s trying to keep his hands to himself but
after talking for three hours and Cas’ eyes falling shut every few
seconds now he just can’t help himself; he raises his hand and
brushes a few stray hairs from Cas’ face.
When Cas opens his eyes almost immediately, he stills. “Sorry,”
he says and puts his hand back, expecting – whatever, a shout, a
‘what the fuck are you doing you pervert’, a ‘leave my bed and
don’t come back’.
Certainly not this. Cas takes Dean’s hand, putting it in his
hair again. “It’s okay,” he says quietly. Hesitantly, Dean
starts to caress Cas’ hair, watching with fascination when Cas
shuffles closer, burying his nose in Dean’s neck. Far too soon his
breath starts to even and he falls asleep completely; he doesn’t
have any nightmares that night.
There’s no going back from this, and somehow Dean doesn’t want
to. Soft touches turn into warm embraces turn into slow kisses turn
into eager movements. He doesn’t look back; they don’t talk about
it because, well, there’s nothing to talk about.
Except one thing, a few weeks later. “You know,” Cas
starts quietly when Dean is running his fingers through his hair
again. “I vowed to always watch over you,” he continues. “And then
you said you would do the same.” There’s a short pause, then,
very quiet, almost like an exhale. “Thank you.”
Cas doesn’t have nightmares again, but they still share a bed.
“I’m gonna propose,” Jack huffs through red-stained teeth and a cut lip. “right here.”
“Now?” Eric asks, throwing off his gloves to push off his helmet.
“Right now,” Jack nods, “but only if you want to.”
“But you lost.” The music is deafening and out of the corner of his eye, Eric can see Cricket grinning like a loon before a swarm of reporters and several cameras.
“And you won,” Jack counters, tossing off his own gloves to cup Bitty’s face. “And you have no idea how proud of you I am. Six years ago you’d pass out if you got hit. Tonight you ran me into the boards. Twice!”
“Cause you were being an asshole, Sweetpea.”
“And it was great, but you know who helped you through that? I did,” Jack grins. “Checked you so many times you forgot you hated me. So it’s kinda like I won too, you know? I won because I get to see you fearless.”
Eric grabs a handful of Jack’s jersey and pulls him down into a kiss, heedless of the flashing lights and screaming spectators. When they separate Jack’s expression is dazed.
Another siren goes off and Jack shouts, “I want to spend the rest of my life with you!”
“Me too!” Bitty yells, fighting tears of exhaustion and happiness.
“Great. Let’s get married! But not here. Later. I love you.” Jack cradles Eric’s sweaty face and peppers kisses across his cheek.
“Wait,” Eric protests, finding Sorenson’s blond head a short way away. “What about right now? Our backup is ordained.”
Jack stares at Eric and grins like he hasn’t just lost Game 7 of the finals. Like Eric isn’t about to hoist the cup. Like they didn’t just out themselves on national television.
“Yeah?” he breathes, pulling Eric into a hug. “Sounds good. Let’s do it.”
Warnings: Mostly smut, pissed off reader at first, then just smut, fingering, pussy eating, Daddy Kink, Alpha/Beta kink(not the A/B/O kind), more smut, anal, rough sex, unprotected sex, added sickening fluff at the end, cos why the hell not?
Word count: 2300
Summary: You finally get sick of Derek’s constant need to train. But when you decide you’ve had enough, he decides he’s not about to let you leave so easily.
A/N: Ok, so…requested fic by anon-hi. could you do a derek hale smut (female y/n) where she’s a new beta in his pack+ derek and her are sparring together. y/n gets tired, tells derek that she doesn’t want to train anymore bc its frustrated how he keeps beating her, starting to shout and swear. derek gets mad at her before pinning her down by her wrists and basically telling her off which she finds sexy. he smells her arousal and he starts teasing her about it and they have rough sex where derek is being really dominant ???? Ok, so it’s basically sticking to the request, but I added some more stuff. Also, sorry this took sooo long!! Hope u like it!!
Summary: You and Jungkook have been friends for a long time, probably so long that you can even consider one another best friends. You can spot each other in any crowd just by the bond you share, and you communicate sometimes in your own language. But you weren’t content with being ‘just friends’. You wanted more, but what itched at you was the question of if he felt the same.
You can recall the many times you had the opportunity to tell Jungkook how you felt. There was the time during the twelfth grade trip when you both were sitting next to one another on the bus ride home, he made a blanket for you with his sweater and told you to lean on his shoulder as he attempted to sing you to sleep. He looked like an angel that night, you were both close to the point where you could have whispered to him that you liked him and kissed him.
There was that time when you carried him home when he got wasted for the first time, which he never did again, and he was so out of it you could have confessed to him without actually confessing. He was so drunk that he wouldn’t even remember it the next day, it would save you the embarrassment but the sadness would still be hanging over you.
The memories of all the times he had asked you who you liked came back to you. You really could have pointed to him, looked him in the eye and said, “you. I like you Jungkook.” But life isn’t always like they say in the movies to make things speed up, things like this took time, even four years or so worth of it.
Just a lil
Newt smut for you guys since you seem to love it ;)
Newt Scamander x Reader
to explain the kind of bliss you receive from being able to wake up next to the
person you love. For Newt, it was as if every morning he was reborn, in love
and in light, and any evil, any bad in the world, was incomprehensible. When it
was just your sleeping face, resting with your mouth slightly agape and a soft
snore escaping you, it was impossible to think that anything apart from utter
peace existed. When he looked at you, he always became aware of his heartbeat.
It no longer sped upon sight of you, but rather he realized it had relaxed, as
if knowing that it didn’t have to squeeze in more beats, knowing it now
belonged to you and didn’t have to try. And his cheeks no longer turned ruby
red, instead settling for a healthy pink glow that ran along the tip of his
nose as well.
Can you please do a Star Trek story with Bones and the words “an apple a day keeps the doctor away”, “your pulse is weak,” and “all the apples in the world wouldn’t stop me.” They aren’t in your prompts list I hope that’s okay? Thank you!