You have this positive energy and are a really fun person to be around. You make most people happy and you're great at complimenting people. Nobody feels bored around you specially because you know how to party and make everything super fun. You're really fun.
You definitely give the best and most fun presents. You can make smallest things look so much worth it with all the love and time you worked on the present to make it meaningful and beautiful. Your doors are always open for those in need and you can make your home feel like home to others. You're really kind.
You have a great sense of humour and make almost everyone around you laugh. If someone is having a gloomy day you can make them forget all their sorrows and misery with your jokes and charming personality. You're definitely the best first date (and ofc more dates ;)) for people because you can make awkward situations almost funny and make people forget that few minutes ago things were awkward. You have a great smile. You make people feel all fuzzy and warm.
You're someone people find easy to rant to. Probably because you're a great listener and try your best to support people when they're feeling blue. If someone would call you in the middle of the night and ask you to come over, because they're not feeling so good, you will be there with ice cream and you're ready to let the person spill all what is troubling them. You don't judge people and try to give people a chance. You really do have a heart made out of gold.
You're really loving and caring to those you love. You're generous and try your best to make people comfortable. People find you soothing and super charming. You're just a big kitty who wants to hug everyone, except those who hurt people you care about, then you roar!
If someone stands up for their friends that would be you. Nobody can hurt the ones you love, that's just not going to happen on your watch! You make people feel really secure and you bring people comfort. If someone wants to watch a movie you might not be all that interested in, you watch it anyway, but of course discuss it heavily afterwards ;). You have the ability to discuss about things without making it an argument. You're a peace maker.
You're great at comforting people and make them forget their sorrows, however people who hurt you or your friends you don't let go so easily. Nobody can get get away with being mean! You easily charm people and you show most people kindness and try your best to be understanding and forgiving. You're really sweet.
You're really ambitious, if you have laid your eyes on some specific goal you try everything in your power to make it happen, no matter what! Since you have such a strong will power a lot of people look up to you and admire you. You're loyal to your friends and family and almost nothing can change that. You're sort of like a fluffy ambitious dog!
You're almost always in a good mood. Like wow all Sagittarius' I know are always smiling! Everyone around you will sooner or later start smiling because you bring such positive aura. You stand up for people even those you don't know very well because you believe in justice. And you can be really convincing let me tell you that.
You're really passionate about things you love and give it your all into almost everything you do. You're really friendly and people flock around you, it's really hard to not like you.
You're really smart, like a wikipedia woah! If it's about a random fact you'll know about it. You love teaching people around you and people really appreciate you for it. Almost no one sees an Aquarius mad because you almost never are. You're really chill and people find it cozy to be with you.
You have a really strong personality. It's hard to forget about you. Just like Scorpio you are very ambitious and try to make it to the top. You'll definitely succeed in everything you put your heart to because you're really strong. Don't forget that!
At first they might seem worrisome because of their intense stare and nihilistic sentiments, but all it takes is one harsh critique about something important to them and they'll crumble. Their bark is infinitely worse than their bite. Will write a series of salty "blind item" blog entries about you for months. 6/10; too passive-aggressive to be truly scary.
Hard to get to know, but when they like you, they REALLY like you and you'd better not do anything to break their trust because all of those warm, fuzzy feelings will 180 into pure end-times-level wrath. If you've ever encountered an angry INFJ, you've seen the face of the devil himself. 10/10; scary af
While they're capable of verbally disemboweling someone they dislike, they won't actually come after you unless they're bored and feel like starting drama for shits and giggles. Threw a punch once and didn't like it too much. Will tell you to go choke on a bag of dicks with the biggest, brightest smile on their face. 6/10; scary only in theory
They love you so, SO much and they want you to do your absolute BEST at EVERYTHING you EVER do like REALLY really, so when you don't meet their expectations, they will get more and more assertive about you achieving your dreams (read: their dreams) until they eventually snap and stab you to death in your sleep. 9/10; file a restraining order and you might be okay.
Too lazy to truly get mad about anything. The only really scary thing about INTPs is their complete disregard for cleanliness. You'll find Chinese takeout boxes from six months ago covered in maggots by their bed, but you won't find nary a discouraging word coming out of their mouths. Only does damage to living things in RPGs. 2/10; scary hygiene but harmless.
Is someone who spends a lot of time writing poetry, getting drunk and crying hysterically about things that happened ten years ago really that scary? I mean, they'll probably throw a whiskey glass or a vase in your general direction and curse you out for a solid ten minutes, but then they'll go right back to crying in fetal position. 4/10; just walk away, dude.
They'll fuck with you just for the sake of having something to do that day. They'll fuck with you sometimes for no reason whatsoever. They fuck with people because it's just in their nature. Occasionally they'll take things too far and you'll wind up in the hospital but probably never in a morgue. Might send you flowers during your hospital stay. 8/10; scary neurotic
They're either your best friend or your worst enemy and there is literally no in-between. Sometimes they'll get mad at you for reasons you don't even understand. Rarely ever will they try to physically harm you, though. They'll just whine about "fake people" in their DeviantART journal and mope about for a long time before randomly deciding you're their friend again. 4/10; Super confusing but not scary.
The embodiment of "walk softly and carry a big stick". Will sit outside of your bedroom window for days with a shotgun, ready for you to make a wrong move so they can blow you to smithereens. Don't try calling the police, because they're probably a police officer or at least connected to one in some way. In other words, you're fucked. 10/10; lawful evil personified.
They love you with all their hearts but they also hate the things you do, ie "love the sin, hate the sinner". Usually harmless, but some of them quickly lose their shit when double-crossed. Might mix poison in your sweet tea and then bury you underneath a bed of roses in the backyard. Prays for your certainly-damned soul every night before supper. 7/10, only scary when provoked.
Their big mouths and intense, confrontational attitudes can put the fear of God into you, but for an ESTJ to truly be scary, they'd have to physically harm you and they don't want to jeopardize their careers over something that foolish. Will judge you hardcore from afar but that's about it. 5/10; talks shit but you won't get hit.
They're the undisputed champions of guilt-trips, and they'll guilt-trip you over things so incessantly that you might suffer a loss of self-worth in the process, which could lead to severe depression and no will to live. Will attend your post-suicide funeral in a really expensive dress and tell mourners how you could have "really been something". 6/10; scary shady
No chill towards people they dislike. They will straight-up brutalize your ass in one-on-one combat and you will lose. Will put you in the hospital, wait until you've been released, and THEN put you in a morgue. Probably will laugh about killing you over cold ones with the boys for decades to come. 10/10; cold-blooded killers.
There is no such thing as a scary ISFP. They might get hurt with you but they just let that shit go after a while. More likely to channel their negative feelings into an artistic outlet than something destructive. No time for pettiness or holding grudges. 0/10; anti-scary saviors
Also has no chill towards people they dislike, but their hair-brained schemes at revenge are often poorly executed. Will threaten to "beat your ass" for months but won't actually do it unless they're drunk or high. Once they do get physically aggressive towards you though, you are deader than dead. 7/10; flee town before things escalate.
Often incorrigibly shallow, they'll start rumors to sully the reputation of their enemies before they'd actually consider getting their hands dirty. Rarely ever starts fights but they sure do love jumping into other peoples' fights and finishing them. Will get one of their besties to film the entire beat-down and put it on Snapchat. Hair and makeup somehow stays flawless the entire time. 3/10; more petty than scary.
Trying to explain Clint Barton to my friends who don't know marvel (apart from the MCU) proving difficult. Especially because the MCU gave him a wife, kids, and an honest to god farm. Any recommendations on how to describe my favorite character? (So far all of my attempts either lead to rambling about ceiling vents and the circus or hysterical laughing because "successful long term relationship" and "Clint Barton" are in the same sentence. Unsurprisingly this just leads to more confusion.)
Well, the problem begins (as problems often do) with comics.
See, comics are a sort of ‘soap opera with capes and tights.’ Comics are ‘fanfic but written by mostly straight white guys who are chosen by other straight white guys.’ Comics are a never ending arms race of suffering, and that’s the problem.
So it’s hard to pin down a character. Because it’s not one character.
Every writer wants to make their mark. They want THEIR version of the character to be the one that people point to and say, “THIS. THIS is the quintessential Hawkeye. THIS is the reason I love Hawkeye.”
Because they’re not going to write the character forever. That’s comics. There’s always someone right behind them, nipping at their heels, someone who wants nothing more, in most cases, then to sweep their careful work aside and make THEIR mark on the character.
There’s not much you can do to stop that from happening. You can write a really good book, you can be clever and creative and still not hit the readership the right way. You can write A GOOD BOOK and you’ll still end up in the trash heap of the 25 cent bin, because the promotion team or the movie schedule or the competitor’s event cycle screwed you over.
It’s much easier to make a lot of noise. To be remembered, rather than beloved. To get people tweeting and talking and protesting and fighting, because that means when you tossed off this book, there’ll be another one waiting for you.
Don’t believe me? I mean, someone keeps giving Nick Spencer new books. (shrug)
So there is no one Hawkeye. The Hawkeye of the early West Coast Avengers has little in common with the Hawkeye of Fraction and Aja’s solo book run. The Hawkeye of the most recent Secret Avengers by Ales Kot would be unrecognizable to the Hawkeye of the Ultimates verse. Movieverse Hawkeye is almost a mirror image of Hawkeye of Avengers: Earth’s Mightiest Heroes.
When you love a character, the question is, which one? Because even if you take fandom interpretation and fanon out of the equation, there’s a lot of them to choose from. And while canon feeds fanon, fanon bleeds back into canon.
Describing the character you love takes some effort, some cherrypicking.
For me, it’s this:
On the surface, he’s ordinary. And his awareness of his ordinariness is part of what makes him so extraordinary. He’s raised himself to his current position by sheer force of will and a refusal to stop. He’s bullheaded and snarky and has a chip on his shoulder the size of the island of Manhattan. He’s not as stupid as he thinks he is, and he’s not as good as he believes he is, and both of those facts are a little heartbreaking.
He’s a man who destroyed his own hearing, because he knew if he didn’t, he was going to hurt someone he loved. He’s also a man who entered canon trying to rob Tony Stark, which was universally regarded as a very bad idea, since that’s how a lot of people end up dead.
He’s not a god or a genius or a super soldier.
He is a man who looked at the end of the world, and said, fuck you, I’ve got a COUPLE OF STICKS AND A PIECE OF STRING and I’m still going to KICK YOUR ASS. There is something comforting about that, for most people.
We want to believe, after all, that if push came to shove, if things got bad, then we would stand up. With all the risk, and all the fear, and a very good chance that we would not win, we want to believe, that we would still stand.
So all the other stuff, the ragged ends and the bad choices, the stupid plots and the OOC moments, the embarrassing contradictions in canon and the writers who can’t figure him out or don’t want to bother trying, it melts down to one truth at the core of his character, every time.
He is a man that doesn’t feel too different from you or me. And he stands. He makes bad choices, he screws people over, he ruins relationships and cheats on partners and girlfriends, he does stupid, stupid things, because this is a soap opera, and half the writers don’t remember what the last one did and the other half don’t care.
For all the parts of him I don’t like, he’s still my favorite. Because he shouldn’t be there. He has no place there. He’s outgunned and outflanked. Everyone around him is smarter than him, better trained than him, better equipped than him.
Hey whatever you’re doing right now is important and all, but we need to talk about a Fake AH Crew AU where Ryan introduces Meg to the rest of the crew
At this point they are all still kinda scared of Ryan. He’s the freaking Vagabond, like shit my dudes. They’ve been working together for long enough though that Ryan has shown them his face a few times but they are still more than a bit scared of him.
They’re about to rob a place with a very specific and unique uniform and need to blend in. They’ve tried to get the uniforms through their usual connections but it just isn’t happening. They’re just about to ready to give up when Ryan quietly informs that he knows someone who could help them.
So, that evening they get into their car and Ryan drives them into the trendy side of the city and to an apartment building. The other guys are a bit “?????” because this definitely doesn’t look like a place they usually do business at. Also, anyone Ryan has connections to has to be a real bad guy so this seems…off.
They get to a door and before Ryan even knocks the door is opened by this petite girl with purple hair that goes “Rye-Rye!” and just hugs the dude. The others freeze because, like does this girl know that Ryan once broke someones wrist when they touched him without permission?
And then they pretty much piss themselves with fear because this girl just straight up reaches for Ryan’s mask and pulls it off. She’s like “You know I hate that you wear that thing all the time. You know it’s really shitty for your skin. You’ve been using that cream I gave you, right?”
And they are even more shocked when the fucken Vagabond just looks nervous and goes “….I’ve used it a bit.” and seems to shrink when this tiny girl glares at him.
So they go inside and they all instantly like Meg, but are also a bit confused about how this friendship or whatever it is between these two unlikely companions started. They start discussing it, and by discussing it I mean wildly speculating in groupchat, about how these two could have met. Michael is sure they’ve pulled a heist together, Jeremy is suggesting that maybe Ryan saved Meg from bad people, Geoff is suggesting that Meg saved Ryan from bad people, Gavin thinks the girl is cute, and Jack is mostly just impressed with the room decor.
Ryan and Meg have a very casual banter going on as Ryan explains what the costumes they need are and even laughs a couple of times after which Michael fills the chat with about 243 question marks. The girl seems to think that making elaborate outfits is easy, but hey, Ryan has to know what he’s doing if he trusts this girl. Meg also assures them with a laugh that she had recreated harder to make outfits before.
So they eventually start to relax a bit, and can’t help but to notice that this Ryan is basically a different person than the one they know. The guy they know likes sharpening knives, this one is changing the lightbulbs in Meg’s kitchen because she can’t reach them.
Meg is taking their measures when Jack oh-so-casually asks how she and Ryan met. “At an anime convention.”, she answers like it’s the most normal thing in the world to make friends with someone on the FBI’s most wanted list at an anime convention. Geoff laughs so hard that he pees his pants.
Hi, I don't know if you're taking prompts but I just read your scene about Andrew being there in Baltimore and it was amazing so I wanted to ask you to write something about Andreil + neck kisses, because I feel like this is a Very Important plot point that was not fully explored. Like maybe Andrew coming to terms with the fact that it's actually his favorite thing, and not knowing how to ask for it? Ugh I just finished rereading the series and I can't get enough of these stupid boys 🦊
(Thank you so muuuuch, and also I totally agree tbh)
He hates the way Neil always pauses to kiss at the hinge of his jaw on the way to his neck. It’s like a check point, the sweet press of a power button, and Neil doesn’t even seem to realize he’s doing it. He kisses with his whole face too, dragging down over Andrew’s bottom lip and chin and throat with his eyes closed, like he’s too in love with the experience to even look.
It’s killing Andrew. It’s stoppering the air in his lungs and giving him stomach ache with how bad he wants it. You like it. I like that you like it.
Andrew hates that he likes it, the vulnerability of that bared neck. It feels like a mistake every time he does it, but it also kind of feels like he’s taken the first shots of the night and he can’t stop, like the more he drinks the thirstier he gets. Neil is such a mistake, but he’s so so easy to make.
Kissing — like this, with the covers pushed down and Andrew on his side with his hand up Neil’s shirt — feels inevitable. He can’t stop pushing up Neil’s springy cowlicks and Neil can’t stop fumbling down to Andrew’s neck and sucking. It’s so humid and nervy-tense between them, like it’s never been, like Neil is singlehandedly dangling Andrew off of a rooftop.
Neil passes his tongue over that root of Andrew’s jaw and Andrew makes a noise so low that it sounds wounded. He just barely keeps his hands from forcing Neil closer, chasing that moment where Neil can’t help himself, circulating between mouth and face and neck before Andrew directs his attention elsewhere. He just wants to stay in that circuit with his hands open and his head tilted back.
Andrew’s fist must go too tight in Neil’s hair because he pulls back frowning, lips red.
“Sorry,” Neil says. “Carried away.” He looks troubled by this, like he’s not used to being carried away by things that aren’t arguments.
“No,” Andrew starts, and then stalls out. His hand is still in Neil’s hair. He doesn’t know how to ask for this; doesn’t even know if he wants to.
“No?” Neil repeats. “Okay.” He leans back and off of Andrew, passing one hand through his own hair and undoing Andrew’s work messing it up.
“I didn’t tell you to stop,” Andrew says, and the way he’s exposed is too much — shirt pushed up in the tousle to pull Neil on top, hard and marked up.
“In my experience, no means stop,” Neil says evenly.
It’s exactly what he wants to hear, he realizes suddenly. Neil finds this humiliating way of giving Andrew what he wants without looking like he’s considered it at all.
AU where Bitty and Jack both suddenly wake up, after having had a few years together, and find themselves in their beds on the morning of the day they met. Both remember everything that happened, but neither thinks the other does, so they both pretend not to remember (which only complicates things more). They end up reenacting a lot of their interactions and it kills them both to do things they know hurt the other but they don't want to change anything.
oh no buddy, I’m not gonna let this stay sad. I’m gonna draw attention to several sad things, but then I’m gonna fix it.
Bitty wakes up on his first day of freshman year. Again. He quickly decides that he can’t say anything to anyone. There was no way to prove that the life he had just been living was anything but a dream.
He goes through the motions as well as he can remember. If he lingers a little on the handshake when he ‘meets’ Jack again, well, who could notice a thing like that?
Jack wakes up in the Haus. He mirrors Bitty’s mental process, realizing that if he started talking about this he could lose the future he knows is on its way. He searches Bittle’s face for recognition, but is too afraid to say anything.
Jack takes a deep breath every day and snaps at Bittle, pushing every pet name out of his mind. Bitty forces himself to forget and relearn how to take a check. On the rink together for checking practice, neither can think of any way to ask if they’re going through the same thing. They both cry more than they did the first time around.
Sometimes Bitty just gets angry at having to repeat things. He tries as hard as he can to not mess the repetitions up, but he isn’t perfect. When Ransom and Holster start asking him what his type is, he rolls his eyes and replies “Men.” As soon as he’s said it he remembers that he had only said that later to his camera, but the damage doesn’t seem to be too great. Jack doesn’t seem to react to the change, adding to his mental list of evidence that everything else had just been a dream. He gets the list of eligible Winter Screw options a few days earlier, but everything settles back to what it had been within a week. Whenever he starts thinking about the next few years, he’s enraged about everything he’s going to have to sit back and let happen. Everything that was going to make Jack sad, and that he wouldn’t be able to fix. Everything that was going to hurt him that he couldn’t avoid.
Jack wakes up every day and writes up a game plan. It’s hard to have to turn back years of learning and be worse as a captain, especially when he remembers every mistake he made in every lost game. So he writes down those mistakes as a reminder to himself to make them. Half of the mistakes are emotional, and that’s what really gets him. He’s forced to act like those years of growing as a person never happened, like they were worthless. He hates trying to make himself glare at Bittle when they’re on the same line, he hates telling him that it was a lucky shot, he hates being so close to his boyfriend except for the fact that he isn’t his boyfriend yet.
Then it’s the playoffs. Bitty steels himself all week for the concussion he knows is coming. It crosses his mind to try to avoid it, to spare himself the pain and potential brain damage. But he remembers that it was only after the concussion that Jack started texting him, and they really got close. He knows that if he went against the play he knew Jack was going to suggest, he’d only drive them apart. Besides, it hadn’t been that bad the first time.
Jack is confident he can find another reason to text Bittle over the summer. He’s thought about this for the whole school year. Whatever consequences could come from not seeing Bitty hurt like that would be worth it. He just has to convince the coaches to not put Bitty in at the wrong time.
“Oh my god, I thought we got over this months ago,” Bitty mutters to himself. He doesn’t remember Jack getting so annoyed about playing with him during this game, but he’s at a point where everything has run together in his mind.
“Jack, I’ll be fine,” he half-lies. He will, eventually. There’s something close to panic in Jack’s eyes. Weird, Jack had taken so long the first time around to show any tiny sign of weakness.
“Promise me you’ll avoid number three.” This is definitely different from before. Bitty stares at Jack. “Spencer, number three, don’t go near him when he’s on their side of the rink. Promise me, Bits.”
“You didn’t even call me Bitty at this point,” he says in shock. They stare at each other for a minute, eyes wide.
“I won’t get the concussion this time and we’ll talk about this after the game,” Bitty blurts out. Jack nods vigorously. They play, and it’s brutal, but Bitty avoids the hip check. Once the game is over, they rush to get seats together in the bus. In whispers, they talk about the future they already had. Bitty mourned the years of school he had ahead of him that he had already completed. Jack complained about having to rewalk a long path to the Stanley Cup. They talked about teammates who felt like family but would still know them as strangers. Graduation, the Fourth of July they spent in Madison, their first Christmas together. Every important milestone of their relationship.
“And in this loop or timeline or whatever, we haven’t even kissed!” Bitty whispers, letting his head thunk back against the headrest. “I was at the point where I was out of college, happy with my career, and hiding a ring from you!”
“You weren’t!” Jack says out loud before dropping back into a whisper. “I was doing the same thing.” They both start laughing. It’s the perfect time to have a second first kiss. They lean in towards each other, their lips meet, and–
–They’re back in their apartment. Bitty sits bolt upright in their bed and turns to Jack. For a fleeting second, he thinks about pretending the last several months just didn’t happen. Jack sits up too, and their eyes meet.
“Did that just–”
“Your frog year take two–” They dissolve into relieved laughter.
“I thought I was going to have to take calc again!”
“I thought I was going to have to listen to you complain about calc again,” Jack says before Bitty smacks him with a pillow. “Kidding! Kind of! Wait, weren’t we just saying that we wanted to propose to each other?” He throws himself out of bed and runs to start rummaging through various coat pockets.
“Oh no, you’re not going to propose to me before I can propose to you!”
I straighten the covers and place the money in my safe box under the bed. Another night of work. I laugh at my own statement. Ha! Work! All you do is take rejected men’s money for a wild time.
I haven’t been doing this long. Only a couple months, but I’ve made more money than you can believe!
I know how people look at me. I see the stares of shame. How some women cross the street trying to get as far away from me as possible like they might catch something.
They wouldn’t. I don’t let any man go there. Only one man has ever taken me there. Only one man I will ever let go beyond the methods I use on other men. No one has touched me since the day he was murdered.
As I scrub the filth away from my body I think back to how Jerome took me. He had different ways of making me feel head over heels. Some nights he would take me hard and rough where the bed would get close to breaking, than other nights when he was feeling love sick he would worship me. He would thrust passionately kissing my body and telling me how beautiful I am.
I step out of the shower leaving the painful memories behind. I wrap a towel around my body and go down to the kitchen to make a drink. I get out the ingredients for a rock hard drink but then a knock on the door interrupts me.
I sigh and open it to see a man with cash in hand. He raises his brow and pushes past me. Is this really my life? He throws the money at me and sits on the sofa.
I walk over to him and set the cash on the hood in his trousers. “It’s late.” I say and make my way to the door to open it for him. He laughs and throws the cash at me with force. “Suck it whore.” This man was clearly drunk and out of his mind to think he can talk to me like that.
Though financial worries enter my brain. I need the money. I need it to get away from here. I sigh and rest on my knees giving the man what he paid for.
Once done I stand up quickly and feel like I should rinse my mouth out with bleach. Just then another knock rings out. A loud one. One of demand.
I move to open the door. “I can see why you’re so popular dollface.” I grasp the handle hard and turn to him with a displeased expression. “Don’t-” “CALL HER THAT!” A screaming voice beats me to it. I know that voice.
I open the door thinking I’m crazy. I’m hearing voices again. I swing open the door to see him. “J-Jer-” he places his finger against my lips and strides into the room seeing the man. He turns to me with fire in his eyes. “Did he touch you?” I shake my head gripping my towel closer to my body scared.
Jerome comes closer and I take in his appearance. Staples? I have to say it’s not his worst look.
The man on the couch scoffs. “No. She never lets anyone get in there. To stubborn. I’ve got to say she makes up for it man. Come here and sit. She does magic.” Jerome laughs. “Oh I know. She’ll ride me like a good girl any day.” The man once again scoffs. “Ha sure! She’s not gonna let some random person in there!” The man laughs.
Jerome turns to him with a smirk. “Oh I’m not a stranger. I was her first isn’t that right darling?” He asks lifting my chin up. “Well go on baby girl. Tell him how I’m the only one who’s ever touched your pussy.” Jerome moves me in front of the man and grips my hips. “He’s the only man to ever touch my pussy.” I say feeling Jerome move his hand beyond the towel and run his fingers over the skin of my hip. I shiver under his touch missing him exceedingly.
The man on the couch slaps his knee with a jealous expression. “Oh man! Lucky you! You’re okay with her doing this though? That’s what I call a working relationship!” Jerome’s hand goes further and slips between my wet folds. He circles my clit with pressure making my body lean into his. Jerome laughs and removes his hand. Instead he lifts up the back of the towel and grips my ass. “Actually no. You see I’ve been gone for a while. This is news to me. I find this…humiliating, and revolting.” Jerome then fiddled with his own trousers and releases himself. I feel him from behind as he starts to rub his head across my wet folds. The man on the couch just stares as if he’s in heaven.
Jerome laughs. “My my my doll. You really haven’t let anyone touch you. So tight I can even thrust into you, but as for you…enjoying the snow?” Jerome thrusts hard entering me. Filling me up like he use to. I arch back into him wanting more. Needing more. The man on the couch looks at me and nods his head.
Jerome laughs and pulls out a gun. He places the barrel to my head as he continues to thrust into me pulling my hair back. “Should I shoot you? Hm? Do you deserve to live knowing the things you’ve done? You dirty whore. Who do you belong to?” “You. You Jerome!” I moan out enjoying the blissful pleasure he’s bestowing upon me. “That’s right doll! I want you to do so for me okay?” Jerome whispers in my ear. “Shoot him.” Jerome says placing the gun in my hand.
I aim the barrel at him and pull the trigger with a rush enveloping me. The mans blood splatters on the wall and he falls completely limp. Jerome growls and rips the towel away turning me around. “You’re in so much trouble.” He says and pushes me against the wall hiking me up and thrusting into me hard and fast. I place my arms around him moaning his name over and over again. “Say it again doll. Scream it.” He says and moves his hand to rub my clit. I toss my head back against the wall in pure pleasure. “Jerome!” I moan out.
He moves to sit on the couch next to the dead man still spilling blood. “What do you say princess? You wanna ride me?” I nod eagerly and place myself above him cock and sliding down on him. Jerome grips my hips as I bouch on his cock making us both feel pleasures we haven’t had for a year.
Jerome rubs his fingers against the blood on the man’s wound and covers his hand in the thick red liquid. He proceeds to trail his hand down my body making a line from my breast, to my stomach, and right above my crotch. “Ah you’re such a good girl. You’re going to cum aren’t you? Go on doll. Cum for me.” I do as he says and release on him and seconds he fills me up with his own cum.
Jerome moves my hair out of the way and kisses me. “You’re mine. Don’t be so stupid to think otherwise. No other man looks at you. Ever! Understood?” He caresses my cheek with a smile. “Yes J.” He laughs and picks me up. “Then why don’t we make up for lost time? Sound good?” I smile and kiss his nose. “Sounds perfect.”
Marichat "don't be fucking rude" prompt (your writing is great btw)
Thank you anon! I am glad you like my writing ^_^ (I should be writing more stories, but I am sniffly and finding doing long form hard so i am taking a break by doing drabbles. Hopefully it will clear my head enough to finish the chapter I wanted to get done today!)
WARNING: Some strong language and suggestive themes! You have been warned.
“What are you staring at?” Marinette cried at last, whirling in her chair to face Chat Noir who was mere inches from her face.
“hold still, I am trying to count your freckles,” he said completely unperturbed by either her close proximity or her glowering expression.
“Have you ever heard of personal space?” she hissed, “Don’t be fucking rude!”
Chat blinked but showed no other sign of being deterred by her wrath. “I can’t count your freckles accurately from across the room, now hold still.”
Marinette groaned but did as he asked, figuring it was easier to just indulge his insanity and get him out of the way then try to argue with him. She had no idea what had lead to Chat Noir’s bizarre visit today, or his sudden unprecedented interest in her life, if his non-stop questions earlier were anything to go by.
“Are you almost done,” she whined, trying not to think about why she was finding his closeness so unsettling.
“Just about,” he grinned, and her heart gave a traitorous little thrill. He really was unfairly pretty.
“You have 27 freckles across your nose,” Chat said leaning in even further until their noses bumped. “And just for the record princess,” he said his voice dropping to a sultry whisper, “I am not fucking rude. When I am fucking I am extremely accommodating,” and before she could move he darted forward, kissed the tip of her nose and hurriedly ran away, laughing.
The next morning Marinette trudged blearily into class. Her night had been restless, in no small part to the flurry of daydreams brought on by Chat’s parting comment. Even her icy cold shower this morning had done little to stop her wandering mind or flushed skin.
“Good morning my bestest best friend who I know far better than Adrien know’s Nino!” Alya crowed as she dropped down into her own seat.
“Are you two still going on about that?” Marinette sighed, dropping her head against the desk and wondering if she could try sleeping through class, or if she ran the risk of subjecting herself to another Chat-infused dream session.
“This is the last day of our epic battle,” Alya said with feigned shock at Marinette’s disinterest. “I am going to 50 Euro richer before class even starts. Where do you want to go for lunch?”
“What if Adrien wins?” Marinette ask, cracking one eye open and looking up at her friend.
“Eh, he gets to pick my next 3 articles on the Ladyblog. But there is no way he is going to win. He would have to get my question right- doubtful- AND I would have to get his wrong, and there is no way Adrien knows anything about you that I don’t already know.”
“OK,” Marinette mumbled. Closing her eyes again.
“Ah the man of the hour and his supposedly hertosexual life mate,” Alya cried.
“We like to keep our love free from the tabloids thank you,” Marinette heard Nino say and Adrien let out a light laugh.
“OK Agreste,” Alya said, “my final question, to see if you know my boyfriend as well as I do-”
“Trick question- Nino didn’t have Ice cream till you took him to get some on your guys second date.”
“Damnit! Still, you haven’t proven that you are the most observant person in this little circle, you still haven’t given me my question. Despite your impressive line of questioning thus far, I defy you to come up with something about Marinette that you know and I don’t.”
Marinette was glad her face was plastered against the side of her desk to hide her flaming face.
“OK,” Adrien said mischievously, “how many freckles does Marinette have across her nose?”
Marinette’s eye shot open.
“You don’t know the answer to that,” Alya said warily.
“Just answer the question,” Adrien said smugly, “or do you admit defeat?”
“19,” Alya said nervously.
“Wrong, 27. Looks like I win.”
Whatever response Alya was about to give was cut off by Marinette’s loud, piercing scream.
I drink milk every day because my doctor says I need it to grow. Kind of like I need this calcium rush in order to make my bones stronger so I stop cracking them so easily. Preventing them from ever reverting to the weak, knobbly knees of last summer when a boy I had a crush on. Had a crush on, crushed me. Like a pulp. Into grains. Like a spoon grinding up soggy cereal swimming at the bottom of a bowl. I wake up in the middle of the night, remembering I didn’t drink 3 glasses today, and run to the refrigerator in my socks and chug it straight from the gallon, barbaric and yearning like a schoolgirl hitching her skirt up too high, and picture the white flowing through my veins. Softening me. Rounding me out. Giving me curves. I get a brain freeze instead and pray I’ll stop crying over spills and that I can sleep with this cold lurching in my stomach.
Maybe one day my hair will stop being so limp in the heat, but I don’t think that kind of thing can be anticipated, so I just have to wait. Girls like me live in the back of an un-air-conditioned convenience store, ratty sweatpants, tight tank tops, and crawl out with week-old receipts bursting from their pockets. Like glued ribcage kind of girls, like elastic hair tie, red marks around the wrist kind of girls. The cashier doesn’t mind when I snag a magazine from the rack and browse through it without paying because no matter how hard I try, I end up looking pre-pubescent anyway. And they let things slide. For a girl like me, at least. I’m saying, lopsided bun, wide eyes, a mouthful of crooked teeth, stars pulling them into their places, I was always too scared to get braces. The cover has some headline about how to enlarge your breasts naturally, which I think might be useful, and another about how to communicate effectively with others without saying hurtful things, which makes me laugh. I flip to the back to check my horoscope and eat that prophetic, adolescent shit catered to the teenage soul up like Eucharist laid under the tongue. Swallow down a spoonful of March’s: “Prepare to face some stress this month, but that’s okay! You’ll be able to get through it and find time to relax.” I want to rip out the page and shove it into my bra, like keeping these soft, meaningless words close to my chest will make them seep into my heart and change me. Stop making me think so much, fill my brain up with Arizona tea and static instead. But I’m cheap, and I shove the magazine back. I think my chest will stay flat forever.
I seek healing. Mending. I’m fingernails deep, sitting in the back of a subway at 3 a.m., pressing crescent moons into the leather seat, trying to dig up salvation. You can’t find that here, you can’t find that in the cracks between the tiles, you can’t find comfort in the ground up cigarette butt stamped into the floor. I’m wishing against this fogged up glass I could say anything, anything that would make sense for once, so someone could help me. Like please, my mind is bending in backwards, like please, I don’t think this underdeveloped chest can take any more of this resentment or it’s going to explode through my ribcage, out of my flesh, like please, I don’t want to hurt anymore. And it’s not my fault that I launch myself around like I’m in some sick little competition, pretending I don’t care, like I’m having the time of my life. Of course I’m not, of course I’m not, I don’t think having your hands shake and your brain go fuzzy whenever you think a little too much is fun, something to be documented for the world to see. I guess I’m different from other people that way, I’d rather people think I’m having a good time than actually have one without anyone knowing. I wish I knew how to sew, so I could stitch up my fibrillating heart, no matter how sloppy and crooked, but the needle jabs my finger as the subway lurches left, and I bleed, I bleed, I bleed.
My mom told me not to walk naked in front of the altar. Disrespectful, she called it, and even though I agree, sometimes I test my divinity and emerge from the bathroom, the steam from the shower wafting off smoke like the incense in its pot. Young god, skin tinted green from fake gold. Young god, empty stomach, fruit scooped out of its rind, leaving me seedless. This hatred has roots, and I don’t know whether I want to dig out my insides with my hands or fill myself up until I’m close to bursting. I let people think the scratches on my knees are from a night of alcohol and a boy tugging my hair. Of course, it’s that and not child worship on a scratchy rug, not begging for forgiveness, not praying for glamour and glory, not hoping for. Of course it’s not hoping for something better.
i have too many feelings about michelle jones so here have headcanons and peter x michelle
this was obnoxiously long because i have no control so lots of stuff is under the cut and it became very fic-like at the end there, whoops. parts ONE (this one!), two, three, four, five, six.
michelle moved with her family to new york when she started high school
mj was actually pretty sad to leave her friends back in chicago because it had
taken a long time to make those friends and she always feels awkward around new
she isn’t very happy about The Move
comes from a loving family
she gets kissed every night before she goes to bed, her parents read her
bedtime stories until she was ten, she used to wear matching outfits with her
mother, family movie nights were every friday
parents were really good to her for the most part and just loved and supported
also pretty smart and since mj has pretty much always been inspired by them so
intelligence and the acquisition of knowledge is really important to her
reading and academic decathlon, but she’s also into math and science too
because she’s very driven and doesn’t have that many friends in new york so
what else is she gonna do?
her parents are an interracial couple and they’ve encountered a lot of hate and
mj was always so sad when she walked out with her mother and people would give
them weird looks
she’s tried to end hate whenever she can and fights to give a voice to those
who are silenced
now cue mj going to high school in new york
joins academic decathlon ofc because who do you think she is she lives for this shit
then! there is this little shithead on the team PETER PARKER
who the fuck does this kid think he is
all these questions, acting like he’s sooo smart just because he happens to
know a lot of facts and is really good at physics and speaks spanish really
well and also happens to be really dorky and adorable and okay maybe he’s kind
of attractive too and maybe mj starts throwing herself more into academic
decathlon and possible CONSIDERS joining band but that’s ONLY BECAUSE PETER IS
A SHITHEAD AND SHE NEEDS TO SHOW HIM HE ISN’T THE ONLY TALENTED ONE OKAY
PROMPT: D & P somehow get into a debate over who is kinkier in bed. Phil says something like 'Just because you have 5 vibrators doesn't make you more kinky. And yes. I know you have them. I hear the buzzing at two am bc I'm a heavy sleeper but you don't know how to be quiet' then cue rough sex
Warning!! Smut: Top! Phil, daddy kink, degradation, dirty talk, vocal Dan, bantz, dom! Phil, coming untouched (twice), coming in pants (once), etc.
~Thinking about it, Dan was almost positive him and Phil had rarely ever had a proper, real argument. It was usually about silly things when they did; anime, editing, memes, etc. Then when they did have an actual fight, it always resulted in them both crying and saying sorry. This time it was different, this wasn’t a real argument, this was leading into territory that hadn’t ever really gone too before.
~Dan and Phil had been joking around, sat in their lounge talking mindlessly about something, tossing back and forth a small bouncy ball they found and laughing. Dan was a lousy throw, missed, and hit Phil in the eye. To which, Phil replied with, “Kinky.”
~Dan snorted slightly and shrugged. “Nah kinky would be if I had called you daddy and threw it at you acting like a pissed off toddler.” He said pointedly, catching the ball and throwing it back. “I guess you’re right. I guess you aren’t as kinky as me then.” He said mostly to joke, throwing the ball back before seeing Dan raise an eyebrow.
~Dan gave him a questioning look, shaking his head before throwing the ball back to him. “Yeah I highly doubt that you’re kinkier than me, Lester.” He challenged, to which Phil smirked in response. “Just because you have like five vibrators doesn’t mean you’re kinkier than me.”
~Dan felt his ears turn red, looking away and blushing, not commenting back. “Yes I know you have them. I’m no idiot, I can hear the buzzing at like two AM. Or at least I would be able too if you knew how to stay quiet.” He chuckled softly, seeing Dan turn even more red.
~Dan finally looked up, shrugging. “I’ve always been vocal. I just figured you’d be asleep by then..” He trailed off, looking away again and blushing once more. “Dan, I’ve been your best friend for years and you still don’t know I’m never asleep at 2 am?” Phil laughed softly.
~Dan shrugged again, trying to brush it all off and play it cool. “I’m still kinkier than you fuck off.” He attempted to change the subject. “I don’t believe that for a second. Just because you moan like bitch in heat doesn’t mean you’re kinky, or good in bed.” He smirked.
~Dan gave him an offended look, glaring a bit. “Shut up!” He threw a pillow at him from the couch. “Im plenty good in bed, and far kinkier than you could even dream of being.” He said, to which Phil instant denied. “Yeah no. I would ask for proof, but I don’t feel like being disappointed.” He teased, knowing Dan would get more riled up the more he went on like this.
~Phil chuckled deeply when Dan didn’t reply. “I guess I’m right. Dan Howell isn’t kinkier than me, and he’s shit in bed.” He declared, mostly to himself, seeing Dan’s face turn red from a mixture of anger and embarrassment. “I’m great in bed. Maybe you’re the one who sucks in bed, that’s why you’re harping on me so much.” He accused, seeing Phil raise an eyebrow at him.
~Phil brushed off the accusation, leaning back on the couch and putting his hands behind his head. “Sorry, I don’t get affected by very wrong accusations like you.” He hummed. “Are you saying yours against me was false then?” Dan smirked. “No I still think you suck in bed.” Phil laughed, looking over at him with that damn smirk still plastered on his face.
~Dan huffed and crossed his arms, glaring at him. “And what makes you think you’re so damn good in bed?” He asked. “Mhm?”
~Phil laughed, giving him a small shrug and closing his eyes. “I’d bet money I could make you cum untouched before i was even close.” He said casually. “Hell, I’d bet money I could have you begging me for it within 10 minutes.”
~Dan chuckled sarcastically. “Yeah right. You couldn’t get into my pants even if you took me to dinner and a movie first.” He snorted.
~Phil looked over at him once more, pushing his hair off his face and sitting up, chuckling deeply. “You say that because you know it’s true. You know easily I could have you begging for my cock, whimpering and whining for me to fuck you so hard you can’t walk the next day.”
~Dan swallowed visibly at his words, trying to push them away and shaking his head. “Oh whatever.” He denied. “Don’t lie to yourself Danny. I know damn well you want me. All those cries of my name and daddy over and over again in the middle of the night. You always sound so pretty, almost like you’re purposely putting on a show knowing I’m awake. I bet you look even better.”
~Dan was blushing furiously again, shaking his head but not speaking. “Awe..” Phil smirked, moving a hand on Dan’s thigh and squeezing gently. “Getting all worked up, Dan?” He cooed, leaning over and biting his earlobe gently. “Thinking about how nicely I’d stretch you open, how much better it’d be than all your toys, having me fucking into you, holding you down and marking up your neck and chest, making you my property?” He hummed.
~Dan didn’t even try to shake his head in denial, letting a small whimper pass his lips as Phil spoke. He felt himself being pushed back, Phil crawling between his legs in a swift motion and ghosting his lips over Dan’s neck. “You’d like that wouldn’t you baby? My thick cock ruining your pretty hole, teeth sinking into your neck and leaving dark bruises, my cum filling you up nicely..” He started placing small kisses down Dan’s neck.
~Phil moved down the side of his neck, kissing gently, occasionally taking the smooth skin between his teeth and nipping quickly. Dan was squirming under him, quickly becoming a mess. “Fuck..Phil..” Dan whimpered out, hands gripping the older male’s shirt tightly. “What baby boy?” Phil smirked gently.
~Dan whimpered loudly, his head thrown back as Phil bit down roughly and sucked a few proper marks against his throat. “Fuck me!” He cried out without thinking, gasping when Phil’s lips detached from his beck and moved to his mouth.
~Phil kissed him for a while, his hands moving under his shirt and rubbing circles into his hip bones. Dan was whimpering into his mouth, kissing back messily as he wiggled under him. “Please Phil.” He whined when Phil pulled back from the kiss, watching the older male tug off his shirt quickly. Dan did the same, looking at him with desperate eyes.
~Phil chuckled and leaned back down, feeling Dan’s hands fumbling with his belt, the metal clinking and Dan’s moaning the only sound in the room. Dan’s hands moved back, his arms around Phil and his nails dragging down his back once Phil started grinding into him, hips rutting together roughly.
~Dan was coming undone too soon, he felt like a horny teenager all over again as Phil’s hips rolled into his own, the friction of his jeans and boxers against the head of his cock almost enough to send him over the edge already, just needing a little more. He moaned loudly, feeling Phil nip his bottom lip and tug it back, attacking his mouth again for another heated kiss.
~Phil moved his hand down quickly, starting to palm Dan through his jeans firmly. Dan was getting louder, his moans and whimpers bouncing off the walls and drowning out all other sound. He cried out, starting to cum hard, blushing a deep red as he did.
~Phil chuckled softly, smirking. “I guess I was wrong..” He hummed. “About..?” Dan panted slightly, feeling Phil’s hips still pressing into his own. “You are good in bed. So far.” He smirked, his lips reattaching to Dan’s quickly, his hips still rolling into his.
~Dan didn’t take long to get hard again, Phil having some surreal effect on his libido he had never seen before, not that he was complaining. He felt Phil’s fingers hook under his jeans, tugging them down with force until they were on the ground.
~Phil did the same, slowly stripping with him until there was a pile on the ground of all their clothes. Phil reached down, wrapping his hand around the younger male’s cock and starting to stroke slowly, his thumb rubbing over the tip and over his slit repeatedly, Dan bucking his hips up in response each time, desperate for the touch.
~Dan wasn’t quiet, he never was, but in the sexual aspect he was a vocal guy. He liked to moan, he liked to put on a show for whoever was fucking him, and Phil would be lying if he said it wasn’t the hottest thing he had ever seen in his life. “Should we go to the bed?” Dan asked between kissing, whining and pouting when he felt Phil’s hand pull away from his aching cock.
~Phil gripped his ass, pulling him into his lap and lifting him up with surprising ease, carrying him to the bedroom with his lips attached to his neck. Dan felt his back hit the bed, Phil between his legs again and his hand fumbling to the side for his top drawer, finding the small blue bottle of lube and handing it to Phil.
~Phil chuckled, popping the cap and pouring a thick layer over three of his fingers, moving his hand between Dan’s legs and circling his rim. Dan shivered, his thighs shaking in anticipation before letting out a loud, strained moan when Phil slipped two fingers into him with ease.
~Phil worked his fingers in and out of the whimpering, writhing man under him, curling them slowly to try and find his spot. He smirked, hearing Dan cry out, his back arching off the mattress once he found it. He added a third digit, scissoring his fingers slowly for a moment before deciding he was stretched enough, spending a few moments rubbing against Dan’s prostate.
~Dan was whining at the top of his lungs, breathless, covered in a thin layer of sweat and his hair curling against his forehead as he was worked open. Phil was in awe, drinking in the sight and sound of Dan. “You sound so good baby..such a slut for me already.” He breathed, pulling his fingers out slowly.
~Dan whimpered, his legs wrapping around Phil’s hips and trying to pull him closer. Phil chuckled, smacking his thigh as a warning. “Don’t be a greedy slut or I’ll leave you here with a vibrator in as punishment. I could get off on my own, come back later when I’, ready to use your hole for my pleasure, just leave you hear unable to cum with a toy against your spot for a few hours.” He threatened, watching Dan shake his head.
~Phil chuckled softly, smirking. “That’s what I thought baby..” he said, stroking over himself and coating his length with the leftover lube, moaning lowly. He positioned at his entrance, pushing in his tip before pulling out, smirking when Dan whined and started clenching around nothing, his head thrashing back in frustration. “Beg.” Phil smirked.
~Dan pouted, looking up at him and whining loudly, no longer caring. “Please daddy just fuck me! I’ve been so good, I’ve been such a good slut for you. Please just fuck me, use me, ruin me, make me yours.” He begged, gasping and arching his back when he felt Phil push in suddenly.
~Dan’s whole body shook, feeling more full than ever, his hands grasping at nothing for something, anything to grip as Phil started to fuck him quickly, barely giving him time to adjust. It hurt, but in all the best ays. The burning, Phil hitting his prostate dead on over and over again as if he had done this a thousand times, his nails digging into Dan;s hips as he gripped them for leverage. Dan was in bliss, tears in the corner of his eyes from the intense pleasure.
~Phil was breathless, thrusting harder and harder into Dan, their hips slamming together each time he pushed back in. Dan was unbelievably tight, warm, swallowing his cock perfectly, screaming his name. He felt Dan move up, his arms around him again and his nails dragging down his back probably hard enough to draw blood.
~Phil groaned loudly, trying to keep quiet and enjoy the beautiful noises pouring from Dan’s swollen and pink parted lips. “God fucking dammit..” Phil muttered, leaning down and resting his forehead against Dan’s as he thrusted hard. “You’re so good baby..so good for me. Taking my cock like you were made too, all these pretty moans and curses all for me.”
~Dan nodded, rocking his hips into him as he was slammed into over and over again. “All for you daddy fuck!” He was almost screaming, unable to stay quiet for more than a moment, the build of his orgasm tightening in his stomach. Only a few short moments later he was coming again, white ribbons along both of their chests, loud shouts of Phil’s name and various obscenities pouring from his mouth at high enough volume he was sure everyone on their floor could hear him, but he didn’t care.
~Phil started breathing heavy, Dan tightening around him as he came for the second time that night, the feeling sending him over the edge. His thrusts became less rhythmic as he grew closer, Dan clenching tightly around him until he came himself, deep inside the younger male, gasping and groaning, his hips moving erratically as he rode out his orgasm.
~Phil collapsed onto him, rolling over and pulling out, hearing Dan whimper quietly as his cum dripped out of him slightly. Dan moved over to lean on him, looking at him and smiling a little. “Wanna nap and then we’ll talk about this?” He offered, seeing Phil nod before they both passed out.
A/N: Can I just with the fact that I still always listen to Often by The Weeknd whenever I write lmao. This is 2.3 k, so t’s seriously official, I can’t write a short hc.
Emma I don't know about you but I'm about 1000% certain that Derek Hale and Newt Scamander are related, when he was tiny he used to stare wide-eyed up at Uncle Newt who he admired more than anyone, he was so proud to be sorted into Hufflepuff even though the rest of the Hales were usually Gryffindors because UNCLE NEWT IS A HUFFLEPUFF, Derek went into magical creature studies like his beloved uncle and just like Newt he has an insane way with animals that impresses the BLOODY HELL out of 1/?
Stiles, a Slytherin who happens to be cultivating some rare herb somewhere years after graduation for his apothecary and gets approached by a Hippogriff, only for Derek to be nearby and be like “Oh no THAT HIPPOGRIFF MIGHT GET HURT!” and run to the aid of the animal, Stiles is always offended about how hard their kids laugh when he tells the story about how he and Papa met because Papa cared about a bird more than him (Newt, somewhere I’m sure, is equally amused).
The image of Derek trying to save the Hippogriff is priceless. Poor Stiles, he was probably very excited that a handsome young boy - oh wait, make that the handsomest young boy, now all man, from his school days - was running towards him, to save him (”not that I needed saving, BUT A GUY HAS DREAMS!”) and instead, he got knocked out of the way and watched, a little outraged, from the ground as Derek cooed and bowed to the Hippogriff.
What if it had tried to kill me???
Shhh, you’re scaring him.
HE’S LITERALLY GIVING ME A DEATH GLARE RIGHT NOW.
Stop being so dramatic. I swear to Merlin, you Slytherins…
UGH, THAT IS UNWARRANTED STEREOTYPING.
(Derek Hale was totally that kid at Hogwarts who hung out with Hagrid, wanting to feed the magical creatures and pet them, I’m sure. I mean, like, Derek Hale could have been on the Quidditch team (he could definitely show off when he wanted to) and he certainly looked like he wasn’t afraid to curse you something awful when you annoyed him, but in reality? Softest. Gentlest. Dork. To. Ever. Dork. But also, perhaps, werewolf!Derek at Hogwarts who feels like an outsider and is afraid to get close to people because while Hogwarts is progressing, they still have a long way to go when it comes to werewolf rights. And so, Derek makes friends with the magical creatures, finding peace with them, a place without judgement, reading aloud to them and writing his Uncle Newt whenever he feels lonely.)
Also though. Now I need kid!Derek staring up at his Uncle Newt in awe because Uncle Newt is the best. I want kid!Derek feeling honoured and privileged because Uncle Newt lets him and only him see his magical creatures. Kid!Derek’s face the first time he sees a Bowtruckle. Kid!Derek on his first day at Hogwarts and writing screeds back home to his family, making sure to tell his mom to tell Uncle Newt he is pretty sure he saw a unicorn today but not to worry, Derek acted just like he was supposed to and that he hopes Uncle Newt is proud of him.
Gruff Derek, jock!Derek…these are all good choices. But sometimes I just need unreserved dork!Derek who uses cockiness as a front, yes, but wants nothing more than to read a good book in peace while feeding Buckbeak with Hagrid.
My first smut, sorry if it is
bad. SMUT: Oral sex (female receiving), kind of
public sex. Let me know if you guys want a part 2!
is not my first language, so if there are mistakes I’m sorry.
Message me and I’ll correct them. Also, thanks for almost
2K followers. You guys are
making me really happy. My classes has just started, so I won’t be
posting a lot. Sorry about that, but don’t give up on me!
hallways were empty, what was quite useful for me and Draco. It was
late, and we sneaked out our dormitories to hang out since none of us
wanted to sleep. We ended up in the astronomy tower, the cold fresh
air sending goosebumps up and down my spine.
sky is beautiful…” I said, looking up to the constellations.
as much as you are.” Draco whispered in my ear and kissed my neck,
hugging me from behind. I smiled at his silly complement and felt his
arms pulling me more into him.
why you brought me here? So we could be alone and no one would listen
if I screamed for help?” I asked, turning around to look in his
me, Princess, if I was in intent to make you scream, it would be for
more, not for help.” He smiled sassy and kissed me. In that very
moment it was like the whole world has vanished, and there was just
the two of us, and I knew he felt that too. Being with Draco makes me
feel good with myself and with life. I guess that’s what love
means: to feel complete.
were still kissing (who needs oxygen right?) when I heard an owl. I
looked at the side of the tower’s balcony and saw Storm, my owl,
with a package. I leaved Draco and walked to her, getting the small
box from her hands and reading the note from my mom:
dear, your idea for our garden worked. I’m sending the results.
I opened the box to find it filled with strawberries, my favorite
fruit of all. I smiled and felt Draco approaching me, trying to see
what was it I had received. “I think I just found us something
really good to do.” I said.
sit here then.” He said, sitting in the ground and tapping his lap.
I rolled my eyes and went to him. Although I would never confess, I
loved when he was kinda bossy like that. It was just… Hot. There
are not other words to describe it. I sat on his lap and got one of
the strawberries from the box, handing it to him. When he went to
grab it with his mouth I ate it. “Really Princess, you’re going
to play this game with me?”
don’t know what you’re talking about.” I said, innocently and
grabbed another fruit. This time, I actually did teased him, eating
that thing in the most sexy and insinuating way I could. I don’t
think that looked like I pictured, but Draco seemed quite turned on,
so I didn’t mind at all. “I’m just eating.”
going to ‘just eat you’ out any of these days.” He said
seriously enough for me to believe. I knew he was messing with me
back, because his words affected me like no one’s else could, but I
wouldn’t loose, not this time.
bet I taste better than this things…” I said, biting another
bet on that too.” He said, using one of his arms to position me
better on his lap. “Actually, I know you taste away much better
then these.” He said, kissing my neck softly and running one of his
hands through my leg, dangerously close to my pussy. “In fact, I
wouldn’t mind tasting you right now.” With that I felt his hand
slipping inside my pants. His fingers teased me and I moaned.
“Merlin’s sake, Princess. I haven’t done anything and you’re
already this wet?”
knew he was smiling victorious, but I couldn’t care less.
it once more, Baby Girl. You know how much I love it when you beg.”
He took the box of strawberries from my hand with his free one and
putted it aside as he kept teasing me. I moaned again, and heard him
laugh. “Just ask Princess. That’s all you have to do.” He
whispered, biting my ear lobe.
me.” I begged.
you wish, my love.” His fingers found my clit, pressing it gently
and earning a loud moan from me. “Be quite, Princess, or you’re
not winning anything.” I bit my lip, trying to focus on staying
shut, but it was quite hard when Draco’s fingers slowly started
bumping on me. I felt myself getting closer as his rhythm speeds up,
and when I was at the age he took his hand off me, leaving me feeling
the fuck Draco…”
said I wanted to taste you, darling. That’s exactly what I’m
going to do. I just need a better place…” He held my waist and
apparated us to an empty classroom. “This will do it.” He said,
trowing me upon the table and laying me down.
if someone cough us?” I asked, nervous.
quite and no one will.” He said, smiling as he knew he was going to
make it really difficult for me. He positioned his self between my
legs, pulled my pants off and started kissing my thighs, slowly
coming up. “You smell good. Fuck, how’s that even possible?” He
whispered for himself and got to my panties, sliding them down and
taking them off me. I was starting to get impatience when I felt him
kiss me gently, just to get rough right after, sucking on my clit. I
had to bit my lip to the point of it almost bleeding so I could be
kept shut. He smirked and inserted two fingers inside me, thrusting
Fuck… I’m going to…” I tried to not scream his name.
for Daddy Princess.” That nickname was all I needed to cum hard.
Draco licked me up and then helped me sitting on the table. I tried
to catch my breath and he smiled, probably proud of the good job he
has done. “As I said. Better then strawberry.”
laughed. How could he go from such a Sex God to a jerk, I’d never
understand. But Merlin’s sake, I loved it.
I’ve never done an ‘Imagine’ before so please bear with me. This little idea wouldn’t leave my head so I had to write it.
Imagine you being best friends with Tony and Clay. You’re the one girl who’s either oblivious to all the cute boys around you and/or you’re the one girl who brushes off all flirtatious comments thrown at you. However, there is one boy who’s truly interested in you and he finally decides to make it known when Valentine’s Day rolls around.
Jeff X Reader
Walking through the school hall, you wrinkle your nose at the red and pink paper hearts adorning the walls. Valentine’s Day is just around the corner and posters advertise dollar carnations so you can buy your Valentine all he/she deserves. It’s not that you have anything against the Hallmark holiday, it’s just.. all so pink and definitely not one of your favorite colors.
You make it to gym, pasting on a frown as you trudge inside. Making a beeline for the coach, you pass over a note and wait patiently as it’s read. The coach scoffs, you bite back a smirk and then trudge over to the bleachers when the coach grunts in acknowledgement of having read the note before waving you off. When you stomp halfway up said bleachers, you let your book bag fall with a content sigh before laying down on your stomach on one of the bleacher seats while pillowing your head atop your crossed arms.
“You look cozy,” you hear Tony’s familiar voice say. “What excuse is it this time?”
“Killer cramps and a heavy flow. I enjoy grossing out the coach.” Cracking open an eye, you see Tony decked out in gym wear sitting right in front of you, grinning. “Having a vagina really has it’s perks.”