#( flag just “how’d i get this lucky? )

[leah-bobeea]

Magazine Girl; Steve Rogers

You ever start writing a fic about a journalist reader at two am who’s eventually gonna end up doing steeb, over his desk, biting down on his expensive leather belt?

❀ ❀ ❀

Warnings: CEO!Steve x Journalist!Reader, Angst, Steve’s a little mean, Bossy Steve, Shy/Anxious reader, Dom!steve, mentions spanking, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex, coercion (a little teensy bit), Bad writing lol

Word Count: 3.9k

A/N: Terrible writing w/ a terribly rushed ending. Written on my phone, in my notes app, not beta read, and barely proofread.

❀ ❀ ❀

Yes, your hands were busy. Not busy typing out a rough draft of this stupid article on Steve Rogers, not busy calling his secretary to set up a meeting with the man, or the closest to him you could get, not busy doing their job at all. They were busy tapping your pen against the glass tabletop of your desk, successfully annoying Wanda, who sent you an aggravated look from across the room.

“Seriously, Y/n?” Wanda moved from where she was at her desk, clearly not making a breakthrough on her article for this month's issue either. You could only shake your head in reply. Throwing your head back to stare at the ceiling, you starting explaining. “Maria gave me this huge article, Wanda. Cover! And, trust me, I know she’s testing me and doesn’t think I’ll actually be able to do it so she can fire me, or belittle me, or- or something! I don’t know what to do, help me, bestie.” As you finished rambling you looked up at her with your best puppy dog eyes, hoping for some of that amazing advice she gives.

Wanda laughed and pulled a chair over from an empty desk, sitting down and haphazardly throwing her feet on top of your cluttered tabletop. “She wouldn’t give you an article you couldn’t handle, she loves you, Y/n. If it’s truly as difficult as you’re making it out as that means that she knows you’re ready for it, and you’ll do amazing. Who’s it on anyway?”

She was doing such a good job at easing your nerves until she brought up the topic. You whined high in your throat and threw your head to the side before uttering, “Steven Rogers,” you turned your body back to Wanda, “What more do I need to say?” Her eyes widened just a little. “Sheesh...I’d start making phone calls, and praying, maybe?”

❀ ❀ ❀

“Hello, Miss. Carter, um- this is Y/n L/n with Shield Mag-“ “Please hold, dear.”

You pulled the phone away from your head and let it rest on your naked thigh, quickly pressing the speaker button. It was times like this when you were grateful that you let your grandma convince you to buy a house phone. Peggy Carter was the fifth person you’d contacted trying to get an interview with this man and she was the second lady that humored you enough to at least pretend like she’d get back to you.

She’s his main assistant so you might have better luck this time...

Thirty minutes later you had your head inches off the ground and your toes wiggling in the air. Humming the annoying hold music to yourself, you braided, unbraided, and re-braided a single strand of your hair. At thirty-nine minutes you were ready to give up until you heard a click on the other line.

You scrambled to turn off the speaker and press the phone back to your ear.

“Miss. Carter I was hoping to set up an interview with Mr. Rogers, over the phone, in person, or through email, if that’s possible?” You asked, hopeful that she wouldn’t shoot you down immediately like everyone else.

“Well, Magazine Girl, I only do in person. But I am a very busy man, so I need to know right away, what’s in it for me?” Your breath hitched and you almost fell and cracked your head open from how startled hearing his voice made you. Then, you nearly gave yourself a head rush from how fast you sat up.

“Well, um, Sir, you would get a headlining article, and uh, a cover on the June issue of Shield Magazine. That’s um, that’s if you want a cover- you don’t have to be on the cover if you don’t want to, just the interview would be mentioned on the cover, but-“ His chuckle was gritty and vivid, effective in stopping your babble. “I’ll see you Friday around noon. Goodbye Magazine Girl.” He hung up on you before you could even comprehend anything but that captivating laugh.

You rubbed at your eyes and grabbed your planner and pen. “Friday at noon...”

❀ ❀ ❀

The next day you were back in the office, sitting in Wanda’s stiff chair with twin caramel lattes sitting in front of you. That was the thing about you, you’d come to work early bearing gifts just to tell your closest friend your good news. You’re sweet like that.

When Wanda arrived it was fifteen minutes later and your latte was halfway gone. Hearing her black stilettos click on the glossy linoleum made you perk up immediately. As she approached, you stood, handing her the latte and wrapping your arms around her lithe body.

“I got an interview!” You squealed, rocking your bodies side to side. She stilled you and smiled. “Gosh, that’s great, Y/n. How’d you get it?”

“Well, I called, like everyone, and he picked up, Wanda! he picked up! I’m scheduled for Friday, and my Lord, Wanda, his laugh, it's like honey...” You trailed off, sighing at the thought of him. Your head was rested on her shoulder, a faint smile on your face. “You’ve got a crush on him!” Wanda exclaimed, grabbing your shoulders and holding you an arm's length away to get a good look at your bashful face.

You gasped, “No I do not! That would be totally unprofessional!” The cackle that erupted from her made her sound like the wicked witch of the west. And honestly, under her stare, you felt like Dorothy stuck under that house.

When Wanda was finally done laughing maliciously she let you go, plopping down in her desk chair and sipping her latte. She pointed over and your desk and gave you a look. “Better start drafting those questions... we wouldn’t want you to blank on your crush.” “Wanda!”

❀ ❀ ❀

The days leading up to Friday were excruciatingly long, yet the hours until twelve flew past all too quickly.

It seemed as if your wardrobe was never ending, full of clothes that you deemed inappropriate for a meeting with the CEO of American Enterprises. You threw yourself back onto the bed, hair and makeup done but body still wrapped in a fluffy white towel. “Oh Milky, what am I gonna wear?” The soft white kitty glared at you from the pillow she was perched on, meowing at you aggressively.

Ten thirty blinked on the clock and you sat up, glancing at all of the clothes that were scattered on the floor. “I guess this will do.” You picked up the same emerald blazer you had chosen originally and layered it over some basic Levi’s, and gray low cut blouse flowing over your form. A belt was necessary, so you grazed over your options. Brown wouldn’t go, even though it was your only fancy belt. The only black one you had was old, the leather cracked and worn, but it had to do. You slipped on some pretty black heels, lucky that you painted your toes a similar color to your blouse. After accessorizing you sprayed your signature perfume, the one that got you your first college-aged boyfriend, and the same one that you were wearing when you got your first real job.

By the time you were on the Metro, it was eleven o’ six, and you were worried. If you were late you’d lose this chance, and probably your job. The car stopped around eleven fifteen, giving you fifteen minutes to make your way to the building, check-in, and try to not seem so nervous.

Finding the building wasn’t difficult at all, after all, it is the second biggest building in New York City, competing with Stark Tower. The “A” at the top wasn’t illuminated, but it still stood out against the other buildings, cowering over them.

You found that the doors were heavy and if you denied Wanda of going to those burn boot camps you would have extreme difficulty prying them open. The inside was classy, just as you expected. The lamps had blue shades and the front desk lit up with a design that resembled the American Flag, but with less curved stripes and only one large star.

The receptionist was one of the women who shot you down immediately when you called and was a little surprised when you checked in. “Hello, I’m here for Mr. Rogers, twelve o’clock?” She searched for something on her computer, clearly trying to see if the appointment was legitimate. When you were proven correct, she handed you a temporary security badge and a sharpie to write your name on it. “Have a seat over there when you’re finished. I’ll call for you when Mr. Rogers is ready for you.” She smiled, it was fake, but it helped you feel more comfortable.

The red couch was stiff and small, clearly not meant for long periods of sitting. The badge was clipped onto your blouse, not your blazer, and the weight of it was pulling at the already low cut neckline. You thought about moving it, but your attention was quickly turned to the coffee table, where your magazine sat, opened to an article you wrote. Your hands were a little shaky as you went to close the magazine, but you were interrupted before you could grasp the bent pages.

“Miss. Y/n? Mr. Rogers is ready for your interview. Head up to floor thirty six, the door on the right.” Miss receptionist sounded bored, her eyes never left the monitor in front of her. “Thanks.”

Some of the others in the waiting area looked up to you after hearing where you were going, causing you to blush.

You felt lucky to get the elevator to yourself. Thirty-six floors is a long way to go, yet you got there in under three. In the elevator you adjusted your outfit and flattened your hair, hoping it wasn’t frizzy.

The door on the right was clearly not just a meeting room but an office, which you thought was odd. You also found it odd that no one was in the room, you expected to at least be met with his assistant or secretary, if not Steve himself.

Your eyes scanned the room to make sure it was completely empty before taking a seat on the leather chair on the opposite side of the big desk. You opened your notebook and got out your lucky rooster pen before going over your questions once again, hoping he didn’t think they were stupid.

You waited fifteen minutes for him, growing increasingly irked as the minutes built up. When he walked through the door you felt like your heart stopped.

Six-four build covered in a black suit and tie, white undershirt pristine. Blonde hair disheveled and a perfectly manicured beard. The door slammed shut and you heard the clinking sound of a glass being set down. Steve lifted his head and you snapped yours to the front, hoping he didn’t catch you checking him out.

The room was silent besides a rustling coming from behind you. You busied yourself with your notebook, highlighting the questions you wanted to ask most.

“You’re a very patient girl.” He observed. Steve made you wait on purpose. He knew from the first person you called that you wanted an interview, he was friends with Maria Hill after all. But he wanted some entertainment, and after looking into you, he knew you were the right girl. So far he’s made you wait an hour and fourteen minutes for just a smidge of his attention.

“Yes, Sir.” You mumbled, accidentally stopping the highlighter too soon, pressing it down, and letting the pink ink bleed to the next page. He hummed in approval as he rounded the corner, drink in his hand, coat jacket discarded, sleeves rolled up, first couple buttons loose. Finally, Steve sat in the big chair, keeping eye contact with you as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the mahogany table.

“Give me that.” Your eyebrows furrowed at his statement, “What?” You asked, putting your pen down on your lap. Steve motioned for your notebook, and you opened your mouth, starting to stumble over your words. “Oh? um- Okay?” You handed it over to him and he relaxed back into his chair. A question bubbled in your throat, but you didn’t let it escape. Instead, you watched as his eyes scanned the papers, blue cursive, and pink highlighter, little stars and flowers drawn in the corners. “Mr. Rogers, are you ready to start the interview?” You tapped your watch, twelve twenty four.

He nodded, “Yes, I’m ready.” You cleared your throat and went to ask for your notebook, but he beat you to it. “Miss. L/n, is there an achievement or something that you’ve contributed to me that you are most proud of?” Why was he asking you your own questions? “Sir, I-“ He cut you off once again. “Answer the question, doll.”

You huffed and crossed your arms over your chest. “I- um, no. I haven’t contributed anything to you that I should be proud of, Sir.”

“Is there a particular moment or memory of building this relationship that stands out to you?” He continued with the questions, tilting his head to the side. Why was he twisting the questions onto you? When you didn’t come up with an answer he chuckled, sounding sickly sweet like molasses dripping straight from the sugarcane. “Patience finally wearing thin, honey?” You nodded eyes staring at his chest, you couldn’t quite muster up the courage to look him in the eye.

He snapped your notebook closed and slid it towards your side of the grand desk. “You couldn’t answer my questions correctly, Y/n.” You nodded, eyes now downcast, admiring the pattern on the blue carpet. You felt like you were going to cry. This big scary man was mean and just wouldn’t let you conduct your interview and you didn’t know why. “I’m sorry, Sir.”

“I know you are, doll. But, if you can’t answer my questions how can I answer yours? You have nothing to offer me.” This was it, you were losing your chance. “Business wise, that is.” Your head shook, and your hands were clasped together, your left thumb rubbing your right nail back and forth. “I don’t understand, Sir.”

“I’m friends with Maria, Y/n. If you’re able to get this article done and get me on the cover you’re gonna get a promotion, you want that, right doll?” Your eyes went wide, “Yes, Sir.” Now, he stood, coming around to the front where you are and leaning against the desk. “She said to make it difficult, but I don’t care enough to do all that. So, doll, I’ll answer your questions. They’re quite good actually. And I’ll do a little photoshoot for the cover, but you’ll need to pay me back.” You gulped, hands suddenly sweaty, you felt like a little chihuahua, trembling under his gaze.

“How? Um, how do I pay you?” Gosh, even your voice was shaky. “Stand up. Lose the blazer.” Steve commanded, slowly unbuckling his belt. You could faintly tell from the buckle that it was Hermès. You stood and took off your blazer in a rush, folding it poorly and setting it on the arm of the chair. “Atta girl.”

He placed his hands on your shoulders and then ran them down to your hands, giving them a little squeeze before he hooked his index fingers into your belt loops, pulling you closer. So close that the tips of your shoes were touching. He leaned down to kiss your neck and you stiffened, but when he grazed his teeth over the bruised spot he just created you melted into him, your hands grasping at the pristine white button up, letting out a little whimper.

Steve pushed you back a little and took in your form, then he pulled the little security badge off, tossing it to the side. Like a little kid, he pulled at the neckline of your shirt. “Off.” You would’ve giggled at him if he didn’t look so scary right now. His blue eyes were piercing into yours, left hand so tight on your hip you thought he might leave bruises.

By the time your shirt hit the floor, he was pushing at your shoulders, hinting at you to go to your knees. “Sir, I don’t know-“

You started, knees hitting the carpet underneath you. He shushed you and guided your head to look up at him. “It's okay, baby, you don’t have to know how. I’ll do all the work, doll. Now, undo your bra.” As expected you did as he asked immediately, fumbling with the clasp until it fell down your arms. It ended up next to your thigh as you watched him pull his belt through the loops.

Steve walked around you and kneeled down, belt in his hands. “Put your hands behind your back.” You nodded immediately, so submissive, completely at his mercy. “Yes, Sir.” Steve loved how polite you were. He made quick work of restraining you, tying your hands to rest against your jean clad ass. The metal felt harsh against your skin and the soft, expensive leather snaked up your arms.

When he was back in front of you he sighed and shook his head. “I should’ve had you unzip me first.” Hearing Steve say that finally brought you to the reality of what was about to happen. You watched with big eyes as he undid the button and then the zipper, the sound making you tremble. His dress pants puddled on the floor and you were in awe as he massaged his bulge through his boxers. Slowly, he pulled them down to the middle of his thighs. His cock bounced up to hit his abdomen and he hissed as he stroked it a few times. “Open as wide as you can, honey.”

As always, you did as asked. Your tongue stuck out a little, wetting your bottom lip. He grasped the back of your head and leaned you forward a little, then you felt his blunt tip on your tongue. You gagged and spluttered when Steve was about halfway seated, he pulled out and leaned down, kissing you sloppily. “Breathe through your nose, baby. Don’t forget.” Then he was back at slowly entering your throat. “Fuck...” he grunted, finally fully seated in your throat, your nose pressed against his nicely groomed pubic hair. He caressed your throat then, rubbing the bulge in your throat, resisting the urge to press down and have you choke on his cock even more. “So good, Y/n.”

Steve started rocking into your throat, slowly fucking it as spit leaked from the corners of your mouth. After minutes of abusing your throat, he finally pulled out, adoring the way tears ran down your cheeks and how you hiccupped, wanting to desperately rub at your raw throat to soothe it. Your hands pulled at the belt and your eyes begged Steve to undo it. “Up, doll.”

He hoisted you up from your armpits and bent you over the desk. Steve pressed kisses down your back and reached in front of you, unbuckling your belt and throwing it somewhere to the left of you, then he unbuttoned and unzipped your pants, tugging them down with fervor.

Steve undid your restraints and left more kisses down your back until he reached your ass, spreading your cheeks to reveal your tight hole and glistening cunt. “I’d love to see this ass all bruised and red, but I’ll have to save that for another day.” His index and middle finger ran circles on your clit, your back arching to press into him more. “Sir, please!” You gasped, your hand flying out to the edge of the table and nearly knocking over the glass of whiskey he left on a coaster when Steve finally pushed two fingers into your aching hole.

“Gotta open you up first, doll, get you all sloppy and ready for my cock.” You cried out as he hooked his fingers, rubbing the magic spot inside of you. “Please, Steve, please.” He cooed at you, pulling his fingers out, and instead traced his name over your clit. “You gonna come, baby? Huh? You gonna drench my fingers, little girl?” You were moaning in wanton, hips humping his hand desperately. He brought his other hand down and started fingerfucking you again, giving you just enough to push you over the edge.

Your moans were breathy, your legs twitching, and you were panting by the time your orgasm faded. “I hope you know I’m not done with you yet, doll, I still haven’t come inside you.” That made you whine high in your throat and you tried, to no avail, to slam your legs shut around his hand.

Steve’s right hand fisted his cock a few times, making sure he’s rock hard and dripping with pre-cum, while his left kept your lips spread, showing him your gorgeous pussy. The blunt head at your entrance shocked you, and you yelped at the intrusion. “Sir!”

He leaned his head down and spit where you were joined, trying to make the glide even easier. “Shut up, doll.” He snapped after you cried out. Once he was as deep as possible inside of you he reached for his belt, looping it over as if he was going to spank you, and stuffed it into your mouth. “Bite down,” Steve demanded, a hand snaked around to the front of your neck where he was applying light pressure.

When you tried to push back against him he held your hips down against the wood steadily and started snapping his hips at a fast speed. Each thrust pushed you down onto the table, letting your clit rub against the mahogany wood.

Your vision felt spacey like you could black out any moment as he choked you. Your orgasm washed over you and you had to use all the strength you had in you to keep biting down on the belt. You didn’t want to know what would happen if you disobeyed his and let it go. Steve’s hips harshly snapped against your ass a few more times before he stilled inside of you, filling you with his spunk.

Before Steve cleaned you up and let you leave his office he had to finger his cum back inside of you, making sure none of it went to waste. Then, he made sure you had a way home, and a way to contact him, because, “Now you’re no longer Magazine Girl, but My Girl.”

@lo-bells

[queenofhearts7378]

Secret Quartet Pride One Shot sequel?

Maybe not the sequel you were expecting, but I could not get this put of my head

____________________

Danny picked up first, "Okay KitKat, what could possibly be so important that you panic text us during lunch and then refuse to answer other than a vague keysmash and shocked cat emojis, and then FaceTime us."

Jake's face popped up on the screen, "You're lucky we know the difference between your 'I'm a mess and panicking' texting, and your 'serious emergency' texting….oh."

Nino waved.

"Sup Nino!" Randy greeted, "Where's Adrien?"

Nino snorted and tilted the phone down. Adrien was currently facedown in Nino's lap and making various distressed noises as Nino petted him.

He tilted the phone back up, "It’s not as bad as my dude's making it out to be. He came out to the class today.”

“That’s….good? Bad? WTJ, I don’t know y’all’s class!” Randy threw his hands in the hair, accidentally throwing is phone in the air.

“”Y’all’s.’” Danny repeated.

“Nah it wasn’t bad. Totally valid. Just….” Nino snickered, “Embarrassing for him.”

“So what happened?”

“Madame Bustier had stepped out for a little bit, and we were all chatting. And we got to talking about superheroes.”

____________________

"Ladybug is not the Captain America of Paris."

"Totally is!"

Alya hummed, "I just don't see it? I mean she's totally all for punching nazis and terrorists, Hawkmoth anybody? But personality and power wise?? Nah."

"Marvel or DC?" Nathaniel asked, "Cause if we're talking heroes in general; power and personality wise she's totally Wonder Woman."

"I wonder what superhero I'd be," Alix mused.

"Flash." The whole class said in a once in a lifetime synchronization. 

"Gotta go fast." Nathaniel smirked at her and she threw a paper ball at him.

"Max is clearly Iron Man." Kim spoke up, "But he'd be better."

Max tilted his head, "That would be the most probable hero identity going off skill set only. Personality wise however?"

"I'd be Batman." Juleka said, "That'd be awesome."

"An emo everyone has a healthy amount of fear of that's secretly a softie underneath and in love with a cute blonde." Alix nodded. "I can see it."

"Are you implying Rose is Catwoman?"

"If anyone in here is Catwoman, it's Marinette." Alya said, ignoring said girl's splutters.

"That's legit….I'd totally be a Ninja Turtle." Nino said.

Half the class booed at him.

"Stick to Marvel or DC!" Alya tossed her pencil at him.

He caught it laughing, "Fine! I'd be Hawkeye. Dude doesn't get enough respect in the hero biz."

He turned to Adrien, who was focusing on finishing up some homework. "Bro what about you? Who'd you be?"

"Spider-Man."

Alya snorted at the ready-to-go answer, "Spider-Man seriously? Why?"

"I swing both ways like him."

Adrien didn't notice the class go dead quiet after that as he finished the last few problems. Then he froze.

"I didn't mean to say that out loud." He breathed to himself, though everyone could hear it in the silence.

____________________

Adrien groaned into Nino's lap again. Danny was absolutely losing it on his screen.

"Are you telling me-" Jake snickered, "Are you telling me you came out early to your class, because you couldn't resist making a pun?"

Adrien just groaned again.

"How'd the rest of the class take it?"

"Bout the same as you guys." Nino said with a grin.

____________________

Alix was the first one to absolutely lose it, Kim following her seconds later.

Rose squealed, "Bi buddies! We finally have five! It rhymes now!"

"That was an embarrassing way to come out to us." Chloe sniffed, "Thought you'd do one of your little heartfelt speeches."

Alya had a hand over her mouth trying to hide her laughter while Marinette just looked like her soul left her body.

Nino was snickering, but he pulled Adrien into a one armed hug, "Bro, you're so valid. But you doing okay?"

"That wasn't how I wanted to come out to you guys!" Adrien whined, tucking himself into Nino's side.

Mylene took pity on him and said, "It's okay Adrien! We're glad you're comfortable enough with us to be yourself!"

Alya controlled herself enough to ask, "Wait, how did you want to come out to us?"

Adrien flushed, "I was just gonna put 'It's me:' in the class chat followed by a pic of the bisexual flag."

That set everybody off laughing like crazy again. Alya shrieked with laughter while Matinette's head hit her desk with a quiet thunk. Alix had slid from her chair and was laying flat on the floor as she howled with laughter.

Mrs. Bustier finally came back only to find her class in absolute hysterics.

_____________________

"Adrien, buddy," Randy snickered, "You dumb cat that was how you came out to us!"

"So I knew it worked."

Nino ruffled his hair, "It's alright. We know you're a hot mess and we love you anyways."

Adrien sat up just to hit him with a pillow.

[silhouetteofacedar]

Fox Mulder, Closet Romantic Ch. 4: Man Pouts on Couch

Previous Chapter - AO3 - MSR, rated E

Mulder is not feeling lucky.

In hindsight, he should have suspected something was off today; Scully kept looking at her watch.

It’s Friday, March 13th, and he thought it’d be cute to invite Scully out for a drink again, make a little joke about it becoming a Friday the 13th tradition. This could work, he thinks. His plan is simple; ask her out every once in a while, for some reason or another, with the intention of eventually coming clean and setting up a proper date.

At five o’clock he stands up and stretches with performative nonchalance. “Buy you a drink, Scully?” he asks, cocking his head towards the calendar pinned to the office wall, surrounded by newspaper clippings and grainy photos.

She pauses with her arm halfway into the sleeve of her coat. “I…” She falters and presses her lips together, looking suddenly guilty.

“What is it?” he asks quietly, a pit growing in his stomach.

“I’d love to, Mulder, but I actually have a date tonight.”

The earth stops spinning and Mulder is thrown off balance, hurtling through the atmosphere.

“Oh,” he says softly. “That doctor guy?”

Scully nods, not meeting his gaze. “His name is Mark,” she says. “We’re getting sushi.” She looks up at him then, big blue eyes soft. “A rain check?” she asks hopefully.

She owns him; one look like that and he’d sell his soul to buy her a cup of shitty coffee. “Sure. Another time, then,” Mulder says, gathering up every scrap of composure he has left, patching together a smile for her. “Have fun.”

He goes home and throws himself face down onto the couch.

She has a date. A real date, with a presumably mentally stable human man with a high-value job. And a daughter. A ready-made family, just add water and stir. This Mark guy probably calls her Dana, asks her how her mother’s doing, feeds her bits of sashimi with no threat of aliens or shadow governments in sight. Maybe he’ll kiss her at the end of the night, softly with closed lips like a gentleman.

What stings the most is the fact that this Doctor Mark had the balls to tell Scully outright that he’s interested in her romantically, something Mulder has yet to do.

Mulder knows he should eat, but his stomach is churning and the idea of food sickens him. He’s being dramatic and irrational; it’s just one date. But the implications are weighty, the potential enormous.

He feels bad for being upset. This is good for her; she needs to get out of the basement, connect with other rational people, find some normalcy and balance in her life.

You need those things too, he hears her say in his head.

He brushes it aside. It’s different for him; he created this life for himself. He’s a collapsed star, a black hole of conspiracy and paranoia that sucks in everything that gets too close. The last thing he wants is for her to get lost in his darkness, swallowed by the void like some interstellar debris.

She’d told him that night in Rock Creek Park that she does’t blame him for what’s happened to her, but that doesn’t assuage his guilt. He carries the weight of what she calls her choices, a load she has no intention of sharing with him, awaiting no acknowledgement or thanks.

He’s doing it to himself.

Mulder whiles away the hours on the couch, gazing up at the constellations of pencil marks on his ceiling, tossing his basketball above his head. He drops it on his face twice.

He knows it’s probably only going to make him feel worse, but he’s a glutton for punishment; so at eleven-thirty that night he picks up the phone and calls Scully.

He waits for her to answer, his heart sinking lower with each ring. She’s not picking up. Is she still out? he thinks anxiously. The guy has a kid, so it’s unlikely that they’d stay out too late unless he’s arranged it with his babysitter…

“Hello?” Scully’s slightly husky voice cuts through his thoughts.

“Scully,” he says, tentative relief creeping into his body.

“Mulder, what is it?” she asks. “It’s late. For normal people, anyway. Are you alright?”

“‘M’ fine,” he assures he. “Just couldn’t sleep.”

He hears her hum in understanding. Late night phone calls between them aren’t uncommon, after all. “Have you tried counting sheep?” she asks, not unkindly. “Or slowing your breathing down, focusing on the cadence of inhales and exhales like I showed you?”

He’s wide awake, sitting upright on his couch, still in the slacks and wrinkled button-down he wore to the office that day. “Yes,” he lies. “It’s not helping. There’s too much going on in my head right now.”

“You work too much,” she says gently. “And yet not enough, when deadlines are involved. We’ve got an impressive paperwork backlog-”

“Can we not talk about work right now?” He reaches down and unties his shoes. “Otherwise I’ll never get to sleep.”

“Right.” There’s rustling on her end. She’s in bed, he realizes.

“Did I wake you, Scully?” he asks, trying to hide his surprise.

“It’s fine, Mulder, I was only dozing,” she replies.

“Oh, how was the date?” he asks, as though it only just occurred to him, instead of being the only thing he’s thought about all night.

“It was nice,” she responds, and he drops his head onto the back of the couch in defeat. Shit. Shit shit shit shit-

“We talked about medicine, about cancer, loss. His daughter’s name is Amanda,” she continues. “Her mother - his wife - died when Mandy was only two, so he’s mostly raised her alone.”

“That’s rough,” Mulder says softly. Please don’t make me feel bad for this guy, Scully, I can’t bear it, he thinks.

“Mhm,” she agrees. “And his work at the hospital is pretty grueling, so his mother helps out a lot. I… I told him about Emily.”

“How’d that go?” Mulder asks, concerned. “It’s not the most… plausible-sounding story.”

“I was vague,” she replies. “All I really said was that I had recently reconnected with a child I’d been separated from, right before she died. He didn’t ask for details; he could probably tell it was a fresh wound.”

They’re silent for a moment.

“Do you think you’ll see him again?” Mulder asks quietly. Somehow he already knows what she’s going to say, and he braces himself for the sting of her words as they pierce his heart.

“I… I think I will,” Scully says, sounding distant. “I mean, it’s worth a shot, right?”

She deserves this. She deserves a chance at something ordinary, safe, comfortable.

“Maggie Scully didn’t raise a quitter,” he says with a watery smile she’ll never see.

She chuckles. “No, I suppose she didn’t,” Scully muses. He hears her yawn. “I’m tired out, Mulder. Think you can sleep now?”

“I’ll try,” he says. He’s surprised to feel his eyes beginning to burn with unshed tears. “Thanks for talking to me,” he adds.

“Anytime. Sleep well,” she says warmly, and the line goes dead.

He supposes he brought this on himself by keeping his feelings hidden. He waited too long, playing it safe. He wanted to gauge her feelings before he made any overt moves, and someone else beat him to it.

It’s just one date. But there’s going to be more. By the sound of it, she wants there to be more.

There’s no way he’s going to sleep well tonight.

He’s in a sour mood when he’s summoned to the Gunmen’s… den? lair? headquarters? the next afternoon, by way of one of their patented cryptic phone calls.

Byers unfastens the dozen locks on the door and lets him inside. “Mulder,” he says, ushering him in. “Good to see you.”

Mulder flops down in a rickety desk chair, exhaustion permeating his muscles. “I’m not up for being social today, boys,” he warns. “You said you had information for me?”

“We took the liberty of looking into Agent Scully’s new… uh, friend,” Byers says.

“For safety reason,” Langly adds, seeing Mulder’s lips purse.

“She’s precious cargo,” Frohike says, wiggling his eyebrows.

“How did you find him?” Mulder asks. “I didn’t even know his first name until yesterday.”

“Don’t insult us with your surprise,” Frohike mutters. “We’re experts.”

“We knew he’s a part of the parish Scully attends-“ Byers begins.

“And we knew he’s an ER doc, has a 6 year old daughter, and a dead wife,” Langly cuts in. “That’s plenty to go on.”

“I don’t need to know more than that,” Mulder says, suddenly feeling guilty. “It’s not my business.”

“Maybe not, but we have the info,” Frohike says. “Look, all you need to know is that he seems legit. Name’s Einolander, if you were curious.”

“I wasn’t,” Mulder lies, taking a sunflower seed out of his pocket and biting it pensively.

“Of course not,” Byers says, sounding completely unconvinced.

“You alright, Mulder?” Langly asks. “You look rough.”

“Of course he does,” Frohike hisses in the least subtle whisper of all time. “Scully’s dating someone that’s not him. Cut the guy some slack.”

“You guys don’t know shit,” Mulder grumbles, then backtracks, running his hands over his face. “I’m sorry. I, uh... didn’t sleep well.”

“It’s okay, man,” Langly says.

Frohike nods sagely. ”We know how you feel about her. This can’t be easy for you.”

Mulder wilts in his chair. “How did you know?” he asks pathetically, realizing the jig is up. Has he really been so obvious this whole time? Fucking hell.

“Look, knowing things is our business,” Byers explains. “And we know you. We’ve been around the block with you a few times, and nobody’s meant this much to you. Not even Diana.”

“Plus, Agent Scully is a smokeshow, and you have eyes,” Frohike adds. Byers gives him a jab with his elbow. “Hey, I stand by that,” he declares, rubbing his arm.

“Well thanks anyway, fellas,” Mulder says, standing. “I should get going. The walls in my apartment won’t stare at themselves.”

“Do you want the file we put together on the guy?” Byers asks. “We can make copies.”

Mulder shakes his head. “Keep it. Draw a mustache on his photo or something.” He picks up his coat and slings it over his shoulder. “You kids have fun.”

“If you need anything, just flag us down,” Frohike says, patting Mulder’s back before unlatching the door.

Mulder steps out the door, then turns back. “How old is this guy?”

“Forty-one,” Byers says, flipping through the file. “Five-foot-ten, dark blond hair, brown eyes. Blood type-”

Mulder holds up a hand. “I don’t want to know. Bye, guys.”

He gets a petty, juvenile satisfaction from the fact that he’s two inches taller and four years younger than Dr. Einolander. It’s short-lived, but at this point he’ll take what he can get.

Because he can’t get Scully.

[ruzek-halstead]

meet me in the afterglow: first date

request from @felicitysmoaksx: i would like to see a continuation of the “i’m so stressed out during finals that i show up to the exam in my onesie and you tell me i look cute” university au. maybe like their first date?

read the original fic here

-

Luke and Julie ended up at a 24-hour diner a few minutes off campus. There was a light wind blowing through Julie's curls, and she was glad her onesie was so warm and fuzzy. Luke seemed perfectly at ease in his sleeve tank, but then again, she could feel his warm skin every time her wrist knocked against his arm. Her hand was still loosely clasped in his. She expected it to be slightly awkward; she had just met Luke and this was unlike anything she had ever done before. In her past four years of studies, she didn't have much time for a social life, much less a boyfriend. But there was no way she could've turned down his invite after the entirety of the situation.

When they reached the exterior of the diner, Julie spotted various empty booths. There were a few students who were quite obviously studying, what with their textbooks and highlighters strewn around the table, but it was generally quite empty. Even though it was relatively empty, Julie was still hit with a wave of anxiety with being seen in this onesie by everyone in the diner. It was dumb, she knew that; she had completed her exam in front of people with this onesie and even walked across campus with it. But for some reason, she couldn't shake the uncomfortable feeling. When Luke moved forward to open the door, he stumbled back and realized Julie had stopped walking. Their intertwined hands pulled him to a stop. He noticed Julie's worried eyes and moved closer, ducking his own head to catch her gaze. "Hey, what's wrong? Are you okay?" God, Julie wanted to scream. This is not how their first date was supposed to be going. "This is going to sound weird," Julie laughed nervously. "But I'm feeling super self-conscious about this onesie right about now." Luke's facial features softened, and he stepped even closer. He let go of her hand to bring it up close to her face; Julie's breath hitched and he stopped his movements. "Julie, believe me when I say this, you look stunning in that onesie. Honestly, I’m too distracted with your beauty to even notice anymore.” Her brain was short-circuiting and no words were coming to mind. His green gaze was so captivating, she couldn't look away. But they were standing outside the diner and she had to do something. His hand that stopped mid-air dropped back down, outlining her arm through the onesie to intertwine their pinkies. Julie felt her knees begin to shake. She swallowed hard. “Well, I am pretty hungry.” That was the most her incapacitated brain could come up with currently, but the comment sent a brightening smile to Luke’s lips. “Great,” he added, once again pulling open the front door. Julie took a deep breath to regain her confidence. It didn’t matter what anyone else thought; it only mattered how she felt. And if she was being honest, she felt pretty damn good after hearing what Luke had to say. There was a sign at the front saying ‘seat yourself’ so Julie slid into a widow booth. Luke slid in across from her, his vibrant smile still on full display. It had been quite some time since Julie went on a first date. It was also pretty obvious that she was out of her element, but Luke seemed perfectly okay with taking the lead. “So, what’s your major, Julie?” He waited until their waitress came over to hand them menus and bring two glasses of water to ask his question. He was casually perusing the menu, but inside, he was dying to know more about this mysterious girl. “You mentioned something about an Evidence course?” Julie glanced up from her menu with a soft smile. She hadn't really gotten a chance to celebrate the fact that she was officially finished her major, (however, she couldn't think of a better way to celebrate than a date with an incredibly cute and caring guy). "I was in Criminology. That was my last exam ever, actually." Luke's eyes widened comically, a large grin spreading over his face. "Congratulations, that's amazing!" He cheered, reaching over to softly squeeze her wrist. "Wow, I should be taking you out to a five course meal — not this." Julie's eyes snapped up to meet his. He was grinning and he looked confident, but Julie could see the underlying insecurity beneath. It was intriguing to see, given how comfortable he had been since they'd met. "This is perfect," she replied evenly, meeting his eye with assurance. Luke matched her smile. The waitress came back to take their order, smiling knowingly at the adorable couple. Luke ordered a chocolate milkshake with a cheeseburger and fries, while Julie also ordered a chocolate milkshake and a chicken caesar wrap with sweet potato fries. “Perfect. I’ll put that order in right away and it’ll be out soon,” their waitress assured them with a bright smile. “What about you?” Julie asked, straw between her lips. She didn’t miss the way Luke’s eyes flickered down for a nanosecond; it gave her all the confidence in the world. “Your major?” Luke took a moment longer to reply (yes, he was composing himself, what about it?). “I’m actually a music major.” Julie’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Oh, really?” “Yeah. I was just taking that course as a filler,” he explained. “That was my final exam too.” Julie’s face lit up in excitement. “Doesn’t it feel great?” “Unbelievable,” he chuckled. “A little scary because what the hell am I supposed to do now?” Julie’s smile dimmed a bit. She was in the same boat and she had been avoiding thinking about it for as long as possible. However, she was still young and there was always the possibility of going back to school (although, her current outfit and mental stability would argue against that). “But we’re not going to think about that right now,” she replied with a coy smile. Luke opened his mouth to rebut, but he was instead distracted by the mouthwatering scent of their food arriving. He was mesmerized, but Julie was straight up emotional about it; she truly thought she might cry. “Oh God,” she mumbled, her senses completely overloaded. “It’s been so long since I’ve had proper food. Does coffee count as a food?” Luke was already shoving fries into his mouth. “Definitely not,” he replied through a full mouth. It definitely wasn’t first date etiquette but Julie was so hungry, she couldn’t be bothered to notice. Not that she cared anyway, she was quickly gnawing down her wrap, nearly forgetting to breathe. Once Julie was satisfied that her hunger was appropriately satiated and she could finally multi-task again, she took a sip of her milkshake and turned her attention to Luke once again. “So, music. How’d you get into it?” Luke was momentarily surprised at the question, but he was more than happy to speak about it. Music was everything to him; he could talk about it all day. “Honestly, it kind of just happened. A cousin of mine used to have a guitar and we taught ourselves to play.” “Are you any good?” Julie meant it to come out teasingly, but it really ended up sounding more flirty than anything. “Maybe you should find out.” Luke very easily matched her tone and Julie found herself sweating before him. “How do you propose I do that?” Well, she may as well continue with the ruse. She had leaned forward in the booth, resting her chin in her hand. “Lucky for you, I have a band.” Julie’s brain immediately stopped all function. He was attractive, he had amazing biceps, he was sweet and respectable and he was in a band? “You — you’re in a band?” Julie cringed at the obvious fumble in her words. He can’t just drop that on her and expect her to be okay though. An unconscious smile spread across his features. “My best friends and I are in a band. We try to play gigs whenever we can; you know, exposure.” “Oh — you play gigs,” Julie swallowed. God, her throat was dry. “Does that mean you have original songs?” Luke nodded again; he looked so excited. “My band calls me the Shakespeare of songwriting. Can’t help myself.” Julie’s brain started screaming at her again: HE WRITES SONGS. Julie grabbed her glass of water and drained it halfway. “That’s awesome. Uh — so, are you the guitarist?” “Lead guitarist,” he smirked with pride. “I’m also the lead singer.” Julie squeezed her water glass so tight, her knuckles turned white. Luke’s eyes dropped to her hand and his smirk only widened. He was full-on torturing her now and he knew it. “How the hell are you even real?” Julie was never known for her subtlety. Luke should know that by now since she basically went off on him in the exam room already anyway. He wasn’t, however, expecting that random question. His eyebrows rose in surprise, but Julie didn’t elaborate. Instead, she seemed to be almost glaring at him. He laughed, a hint of nervousness in his tone. “Excuse me?” “You’re a guitar player in a band, you write songs and you sing them. You’re ridiculously sweet and kind and I haven’t seen any red flags yet, which is literally unbelievable nowadays. You’re somehow interested in me and you’re ridiculously hot. There must be something else going on here because there is no way in hell that this is real.” Luke could only blink at her. He took a moment to mull over his next words before he relayed them with a frown. “If you’re impressed by my kindness, which should just be basic human behaviour, then men clearly need to do better.” Julie bit her lip as she sighed. “Sorry. That was a lot. I just mean—” Luke interrupted. “You seem to be really surprised that someone like me could be interested in you and I just don’t understand,” he explained, brows furrowed together. “What you and I see is clearly different. I see someone intelligent and dedicated enough to her studies to block out everything else and get it done. I see someone beautiful, no matter what they're wearing. I see someone who doesn't think as highly of themselves as they should because I've only known you a few hours and that's enough for me to know that I want you in my life." Now it was Julie's turn to blink. "Sorry," Luke popped out a smirk, "That was a lot." "Listen," Julie breathed, openly avoiding eye contact as she started her explanation. "I'm not, nor have I ever been, that successful in the dating department. This," she motioned between her and Luke, "Has never happened to me before and I'm not entirely sure how to handle it. So, I'm sorry if I'm butchering this." Luke instantly reached forward to grab her hand. "You're not." "Are you sure?" She laughed nervously. "I've given you more than one reason tonight to think I'm certifiably insane." Luke looked up from their conjoined hands with an earnest smile. "I hate to break it to you, but it's going to take a lot more than that to drive me away." Julie considered it for a moment. "You know what, I'm okay with that." "Good," he laughed. He stood up from the booth. "I'll be right back." Julie took this opportunity to momentarily reflect. In the span of twenty-four hours, she had gone through a range of emotions like something she'd never experienced before. But she had successfully completed her exams, and thus, completed her major. She could now take a break from school and decide how she wanted to proceed. Somehow the worst week of her life ended up as one of the best. Luke returned a few moments lately, shoving his wallet back into his back pocket. "Alright, we're all squared away. You ready to go?" Julie nodded with a smile, easily following him outside. "Thanks for the meal, Luke. I needed it." "Of course." He was unable to lose the grin from his face. "Hey, is it alright if I get your number?" Julie almost tripped over herself in taking out her cellphone from the pocket of her onesie. They exchanged phone numbers with a smile. "I live just around the corner over there," Julie motioned with her index finger. "But tonight was great, and I had a lot of fun." Luke's eyebrows furrowed together. "Oh, that's great. But I'm walking you home." "You don't need to do that," she replied automatically. "I want to." Well, Julie couldn't dispute that. Luke once again reached for her hand and Julie led the way. She knew it would be an exceptionally short walk, but he kept the conversation going for all of it. It felt like he couldn't get enough of talking to her and it seriously made Julie's heart squeeze with affection. When they reached the doorstep of Julie's building, she turned to him with nervous eyes. "I would love to take you out again," Luke murmured quietly. The energy around them had suddenly changed and Julie was hyper aware of his thumb stroking her palm. "I would love to see your band," she replied, because honestly, she still hadn't gotten that image out of her head. An immediate grin broke out on Luke's face. "Then it's decided," his eyes softened once again as he took a step down. "Get some sleep, Julie. Celebrate your achievements by forty-seven hours of sleep." "You know what?" Julie threw her head back in a laugh. "I think I just might." His eyes were sparkling as he observed her laughing. It was the best sight he'd seen in ages. Julie could see his hesitation and decided he'd done enough already (especially through her multiple freak-outs over the course of the day). With his small step down, he was finally at her height. She took a small step forward and pulled him closer with a soft hand of the back of his neck. She met his wide eyes as she moved closer and pulled a smile as she pressed her lips dangerously close to his lips. She kept her hand where it was and only moved back to glance in his eyes. His own hand slid behind her back and she savoured every moment of his touch. No words were needed. All they needed was the mere presence of each other. Julie finally pulled away, throwing a shy smile in his direction. "Goodnight, Luke." He was grinning the widest she'd seen since they met. "Goodnight, Julie."

[raith-way]

Fandom: DCEU / Suicide Squad

Fic: Memento Vivere

Pairing: Revina Revnic/Rick Flag

Kiss Prompt 10: …desperately

Requested By: @asirensrage

Tagging: @jinxsflame @hughstheforcelou @uno-reverse-reversed @hiddenqveendom @ocfairygodmother @jewelswrites-ish

The Mission Comes First

Rev had learned, what felt like a lifetime ago now, to fear the words routine mission. Any time a mission became routine, she knew to keep on guard because some kind of shit was going to hit life’s proverbial fan. Despite knowing that, she had let herself relax. Because the mission had been a simple one. Her and Harley had been the only ones deployed, into a dark nightclub filled with music that she could feel vibrating in her soul and bodies sliding against each other with wild abandon. It made her crave the quiet, but she got a kick out of watching Harley mingle and enjoy time outside of her cage. As far as the mission went, they were just doing a little recon. (Rev’s first specialty.) Watch, listen, learn, report. It was the kind of mission that she could do with her mind completely disconnected. Instincts picking up the important bits while her thoughts strayed.

Harley danced, Rev observed, and Rick talked into her ear the whole time. Strict orders that kept her eyes sharp and whispered words that made her thighs tense. For a little while, it was the best mission ever. Harley was distracting the crowd with what looked like an impromptu dance battle, giving Rev a clear view of their target and his dealings, and Rick was dripping filth over their private comm about all the things they were going to do as soon as this mission was over. Her body had started to move along with the masses as she imagined a completely different body pressed against hers, and that was when it happened. When the routine mission flipped, ass-up, and she had frozen inside the club as she heard strange voices over the comm.

Focusing on the mission had been torture after that, because the comm had gone silent. The private channel and the public one. She gave Rick five minutes, she trusted him enough to take care of himself, but she could only control herself for five minutes. Once time was up, she started jumping with the crowd just a little out of beat. She caught Harley’s eyes, and she knew the woman could understand her because she clapped her hands in the air and pulled attention to herself. Rev used the window of opportunity to slip out of the club unnoticed, and she could hear the heavy door clang behind her as she strained to see around her. Rick’s command center for the night was nearby, and that was where she went. Started at a leisurely walk and then slowly built into a jog, until she was nearly running. The nightclub had been in one warehouse, and Rick was set up at a different warehouse far enough away to not be noticeable. Too fucking far away, in her opinion.

The first body was a bit of a shock. Neck twisted at an odd angle, sprawled across the ground, but she didn’t slow her run and just jumped over the body instead of stopping to inspect. The second body was less of a shock, face and chest shining wet and red in the darkness, and she jumped over the body and upped her speed. By the time she reached the warehouse she was looking for, she had vaulted over two other very obviously dead bodies and was breathing heavy from the panic rather than the fast pace. The next shock came from the bright light inside the warehouse, and she skidded to a stop in front of the rolled-up door. Just outside of the falling light. The thick leather heels of her boots caused some noise, enough to get some attention, and Rick’s eyes snapped up to hers.

“The fuck’re you doin’ here, Revnic?” Using her surname wasn’t a good sign, but she didn’t care about which of her names that he was using because she could clearly see blood. He was sitting behind a table, just a plain white fold-up table, and leaned back in his chair. The coat he was wearing to ward off the chill was gaping open, showing the dark shirt underneath, and she could clearly see rips in the material. Rips from blades. On the floor under him, she could see grouped drops of blood. (Not puddles of blood. He wasn’t bleeding that much.)

“Strange voices, dark comm, what the fuck?” No one had ever accused her of not getting to the point, and she completely ignored Rick’s I’m-the-team-leader-show-some-respect glare.

“I was doing a perimeter check, and I got stabbed,” he answered as he sat up straighter. He visibly winced as he slumped forwards in his chair, like she wouldn’t worry if he hid the damage behind the table, and she reached up to pull at her hair. Her stupidly dyed hair that had been dyed for this stupid mission, where Rick had been stabbed while not even being involved in the mission part of the mission.

“What? Why’d you get stabbed?” she rushed out. If they’d been found out, someone would have come after her or Harley. Why go after Rick? Better yet, how’d they get the jump on Rick?

“Not like I stopped to interrogate them. I was a little busy with being stabbed,” he mumbled and rubbed absently at his jaw. Had one of them clocked him? He quit rubbing at his face and pressed his fingers against his temple as he looked right at her. “I got a little distracted.”

“Are you telling me that you can’t handle phone sex and not getting stabbed at the same time?” She finally marched forward, out of the darkness and into the harsh light of the warehouse Rick had claimed, and she bit down on her grin as Rick instinctively sat up straight in his chair.

“It wasn’t phone sex,” he complained. As soon as she was close enough, she grabbed at his shoulder and pushed him back in the chair.

“Comm sex sounds stupid.” She was talking while pulling up the dark tee that he was wearing, and she swiped her hand across the blood that had streaked down his torso. She heard him hiss through his teeth, but she could see now that the wounds themselves weren’t so bad. Two lucky strikes, enough to break the skin and make a mess, but he probably wouldn’t even need stitches. Just a big band-aid slapped on for a day or two.

“Mission ain’t over, Revnic,” he told her as she swung her leg over his lap. Her shirt was dark enough that it wouldn’t show bloodstains, and it wasn’t like she’d care if she did walk back into the club with blood all over her shirt.

“Just checking on my team leader.” She kept one hand pressed against his stomach, high up on the left with already drying blood sticking to her skin, as she leaned forward and knocked her chin against his. “Next time you need to take a break to kill some interlopers, you keep me on.”

“That get you off, Rev?” The words were said against her lips, warm breath against her skin and the taste of the mints that he favored slipping down her tongue, and her free hand locked around his neck with enough force to leave bruises in the shapes of her fingertips along his hairline.

“Knowing you’re alive gets me off.” She whispered the words into him, so that he could taste the truth of what she’d said, and she thought of his voice cutting off. Of not being able to hear him. Of not knowing if he was alive or not.

Before she could have another thought, of Rick dying or him killing four men while she danced with strangers, they crashed together. She bit at his lips until he cursed against her teeth and gripped her hips hard enough to ache, and she lost herself in him. They pushed and pulled at each other, desperate to leave marks that belonged to them, and she ducked down to feel the thundering pulse in his throat pushing against her tongue. Sealed her lips around the thin skin and sucked, nipped with her teeth and pulled, to leave a mark over the place that proved he was alive. She could feel fresh blood against her hands as her fingers curled against his skin, like she could pull him apart and bury herself inside his chest cavity right next to his beating heart, and she could feel her hair being pulled as she was ripped away from his skin so that his lips could devour hers. Her mouth felt hot and sensitive, bruises were blooming across her hips and thighs, and it wasn’t enough.

When Rick pulled away, she actually whined. A high-pitched sound slipped from her throat as her hips rocked forwards, and Rick sat up straight to hold her steady against him. One hand curled around the back of her thigh, fingers pressing in, and the tight grip he had on her hair allowed him to hold her back. Even if she did lose a few strands of hair while trying to taste the jumping muscle in his jaw. Her eyes opened to look at him, to see how his usual stern expression hardened into something that echoed the hunger in her, and she tipped her head back to bare her throat as she let out another quiet sound of need.

“We have a guest,” Rick said slowly. He was looking directly at her, looking at the way her tongue swiped across her bottom lip as she chased the taste of him, and she forced herself to focus. Behind her, she could hear heavy leather shifting against concrete.

“Don’t stop on my account, boss. I’m gettin’ quite the show,” Harley told them cheerfully. Mission, right. If Harley was here, that meant that the mission was over. (Could also mean that Harley had gotten worried and decided to check on them, or it could mean that she had gotten impatient and just killed the target. Rev was okay with all the options.)

“Love ya, Harls, but… no,” Rev said and looked over her shoulder. When she bowed her spine to look over her shoulder without dislodging Rick’s hand from her hair, her hips rolled forward and Rick’s fingers slipped to grip at her inner thigh. From her bent angle, she could see Harley pouting and kicking at the ground.

“Always ruinin’ the fun,” Harley sighed. Rick echoed the sigh, so perfectly that Rev almost laughed, but she was saved from getting that lecture as Rick suddenly gripped her hips and lifted her from his lap.

“Harley, report,” he snapped out. Harley straightened, standing at perfect attention, and even her salute was right on point. Once Rick was standing, Rev dropped to sit in his chair and waited for the debrief to be over. In the meantime, she had some plans to make.

[goldenchan-fx2thepeacock]

Quick AU where Danny stays in town during Girls Night Out

Yeah, random thoughts spring into brain. Danny is trans. I think that's enough background info. Also, Tumblr got a new post editor, so I'm betaing it right now.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Danny was supposed to go fishing with his dad. But something came up. AKA, Vlad wanted him to go visit him without Danny. So Danny was in Amity Park when he was supposed to be having dad bonding time. What could he say? His dad got that dumb book and everything. It was gonna be epic. Except stupid Vlad had to go and ruin everything. Whatever. Dad said they would go next weekend.

The first big issue was when Tucker disappeared. And he didn't. Might've been a dumb ghost thing. So he and Sam went to find stuff out. Except all the men in town were gone. It was glaring. "I-I'm sure it's nothing Danny!" Sam said nervously. "Yeah. It's gotta have been a stupid mistake. Maybe I'm immune cause I'm half ghost," Except there weren't any male ghosts either. "Yeah, that's gotta be it!" That when they heard Ember. "OH YEAH! NO MORE PESKY GUYS! IT'S A GIRL'S NIGHT OUT!" "Yes. You know, I'm surprised that worked. I was afraid it might've been a ghost only thing," Spectra drawled. "Of course it worked. The superior gender always prevails," Kitty replied. "And that's obviously female," Every vein in his body was pounding. "I think you might've confused sex for gender ladies," Sam said patiently. "We're not having sex!" Ember laughed. "You do realize how invalidating this can feel for trans people?!" Sam shrieked back. "If they're still here, that means it's a she," Spectra grinned. That was the last straw. He ran. As fast as he could. And for a half ghost that was fast. Once he got home, he slammed the door.

Sam saw Danny run off and knew how this was looking for him. "Isn't this rich? The ghost boy is really a girl," Kitty grinned. "I'm surprised I didn't notice sooner," Spectra laughed. Ember stayed oddly quiet for someone who was normally boisterously loud.

Danny curled in on himself. Herself. NO! Don't second guess yourself. It change the fact that it hurt. "All the men in town are gone!" He heard Jazz yell. "I realize that Jazz. Thank goodness your father is out of town," Mom sighed. "Wait, but Danny isn't! I really hope..." She was standing in his doorway. "FUCKING GHOSTS!" Jazz didn't swear. She never swore. "What is it Jazz? Oh. Danny, I'm so sorry," Mom pulled him into a hug. "I'll be fine," He grumbled. "Do you know which ghosts?" Jazz decided to change the conversation. "Spectra, Kitty and Ember," "Great. Spectra is going to use this horribly," Jazz grumbled quiet enough that only Danny could hear. "Listen, we have to get the guys back first," "Wait, if you're, that means any trans women in Amity are stuck there," Mom said. "Can we not talk about that? I'm seriously not in the mood," "At least pesky Phantom won't be here to get in the way," Jazz and Danny exchanged a look. Sam came bursting in. "Danny! Okay, I am going to make them even deader than before," Sam cracked her knuckles. "I'm fine Sam. Let's just find a way to fix this," "I have an idea!" Jazz said. "No," Danny, Sam and Mom said in unison. "Oh come on. Don't be like that. Not all my plans are bad," Jazz protested. "Speaking from experience (of being trapped in a thermos way too much for one night), that is completely untrue," "What was that about thermoses Danny?" Mom said. "Jazz put soup in my Fenton Thermos!" "I couldn't tell them apart! We really need to label things," "Like with a massive sticker that say Fenton?" "All our stuff has those!" "Fair enough," Danny conceded. It was the plan if anyone caught them talking about getting trapped in thermoses. It made sense because it actually happened. "Well, since Jazz's plan is out, I opt that we figure out how this whole thing happened," Mom said. "It's a combo between Kitty and Ember. Kitty has this thing that makes men disappear into another dimension. And Ember must've used her guitar to make it cover all of Amity. If we don't get them out in twelve hours, they'll be stuck there forever," "And I will have to resign to a life of raging dysphoria," "You were gonna have that anyways," "Times ten. This won't help anyways, but it won't be all bad," "Let's stop talking about you being trans. Danny, you're staying here," Jazz winked. He knew what that meant. They would get all the men back and Danny would keep the ghosts at bay. "Okay. So, from what they were blabbing, all we have to do is get them to do it again," Sam said. Once they had a plan in place, all they had to do was implement it. They left and Danny quickly transformed. Praying that Spectra wouldn't find a way to use this against him, he sped off. "Hey! Poo faces! I'm not gone, and it semi pisses me off!" He screamed. "Oh now sweety. Why would you want to leave behind the superior gender?" Spectra said. "Because it makes me feel horrible and like I was born wrong," "You were, weren't you," Don't let Spectra sink her claws in Fenturd! "Yeah, maybe I was, but if I work hard enough I can fix it," "How is Danny Phantom still here?" He heard Paulina say. Nope, not listening. "They're all going to know. You can't do anything about that," Spectra laughed evilly. "Now girls, follow the recipe! You too now," "I'm. NOT A GIRL!" The wail was probably ill planned, but Danny wasn't thinking straight. Shit, humans. He cut himself off. "Oh come on now. No matter how many times you tell yourself that, you still have to cover parts of yourself. Don't tell me you don't wake up every morning and wish you were a real boy?" "I am. I am a real boy. I just have to take a few extra steps to get there," "Oh come on now. Stop lying to yourself. Maddie, how can you possibly call these eggs? They're green," Okay, maybe dealing with Spectra first was a bad idea. But she was also taunting his mom. Deal with Ember. She must be better than this.

So he flew to a stage. Ember was rocking out with a bunch of girls. Sam was in the background. This was probably one of the less dangerous problems. "Listen, if you're going to taunt me for the fact that I'm still here, do it already," "Hey, listen kid. I'm not actually going to taunt you. Kitty and Spectra are being complete jerks, but I'm not going to judge you for being trans," "Y-you're not?" "Heck no! I'm doing this because I wanted to have a fun night without guys. You included. I'll just have to take a few extra steps to get rid of you!" Danny dodged the guitar strum easily. "Are you planning on bringing them back at the end of the night?" "That's really up to Kitty," "I guess," Sam could deal with Ember.

Next up was Kitty. Oh great, makeup. (I honestly forget what Kitty was doing, so makeup works) "Now girls. All you gotta do is apply the bronzer like so!" "Kitty! How would Johnny feel if he knew you were doing this?" "Oh come on now Ghost girl, you can't be serious. Johnny is having a guys night in all due time," "HEY! Don't you dare. Transphobia doesn't help anyone," Jazz yelled. "Oh stop complaining. She knows she doesn't belong with the guys. From the looks of it, Spectra's already gotten to you. This'll make this so much easier,"

The plan backfired immensely. Danny and Mom were a mess, Sam didn't manage to get the guitar, and Jazz just got in a debate with Kitty. Danny, having to keep up a facade, came downstairs. "How'd it go?" "Terribly. Though, I did learn the Ghost Boy is trans," Mom said. "Fascinating," "It's, well it's oddly human. Why would a ghost even bother?" "Turns out gender dysphoria comes to the grave," "Danny, this is no time for one of your morbid jokes," Yeah, maybe it was morbid, but it wasn't a joke. "Whatever. I guess we get to use Jazz's plan," "All we gotta do is convince them that a cis guy is still in town. Like wandered in after the disappearing act," "Great plan. Sam can't pretend to be me though," "How did you know I was going to do that?" "Lucky guess,"

So that's how Jazz ended up wearing a baseball cap and a pair of men's jeans into Ember's concert. "Did we really have to use a pair of dad's jeans? These barely fit," "You know, the fact that they fit at all should be surprising. Dad was skinny at one point in his life. Which means that one of us could be on his end of the gene pool," "It's probably you," "Don't make me think about that. Hiding what little chest I have is hard enough. If I got dad's genes, I'd honestly be terrified," "We haven't seen the women on his side of the family. And besides, you got the blue eyes black hair thing," "You are honestly scaring me. Now, I gotta scram before someone sees me talking to you. Mom or the ghosts," "Fair,"

And thus, the plan worked. Kitty, adamant that no men be left in Amity, blew another kiss. Ember amplified it. The men came back. The three got thermosed. Jazz laughed at their faces when they honestly though she was from out of town. Danny once again didn't get taken, even in ghost form.

Tucker and Sam found him curled up in his bed. "Hey man. I know this has gotta be tough for you," Tucker said. "Spectra had no right!" Sam continued. "Thanks guys. But I think I'm gonna take a few days off school," The trio heard Dash's voice outside. "Hey mom. I know what happened was scary. And I know it must've felt really bad, but I still see you as my mom," "Thanks Dash. I can always count on you to make me feel better," A woman's voice rang out. Danny looked over the window sill. "See Danny. It's not horribly weird. Just a few transphobic ghosts," Tucker laughed. "A couple," "What?" Sam and Tucker said in unison. "Ember isn't," "How do you know that?" "I talked to her," "Hey Fenturd! Don't you dare tell anyone about my mom! And don't be mean to her! I'm sure you wouldn't get it," "You'd be surprised Dash!" He grabbed his trans flag and hung it out the window. "I get it more than you seem to think!" Dash's mom smiled at him. "Y-you're trans? I thought you were just a loser!" "Yeah, and I had to talk to the transphobic ghosts. So I won't invalidate your mom!" Dash stared up at him. "Holy shit,"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Praying that this uploads, cause I've got shoddy internet rn. And I'm working on my Gravity Falls crossover fic. I just had this pop into my mind. Prolly just gonna be a oneshot. I might make another fic about Jack's side of the family later, that's connected to this one.

[vosh-rakh]

By the time they spotted the ship through the dense fog of the Sea of Ghosts, it was too late. The Chimeri junk had launched its harpoons, digging into the Nordic vessel’s hull, dragging the two together through the icy waters. The ropes were hauled in at an impressive speed, no doubt some magical contrivance by the elves, and soon the ships were close enough to board.

The civilians aboard Olmgerd’s ship quickly fled below deck, while the combatant sailors drew their swords and hoisted their spears, ready to fight off the invading Chimer. The elves leapt across the chasm of water, attacking the remaining crew like devils, their golden eyes flecked with bloodlust.

Khelthur, the only elf aboard the Nordic vessel prior to the boarding, was caught off guard, having been on his hands and knees scrubbing near the edge of the deck. He fell back onto his back when the harpoons hit, stunned by everything happening so quickly. When the Chimer boarded, an invader rushed him, taking him for easy prey. But one of the Nords slammed his shoulder into the Chimer, knocking both to the ground. They struggled for a bit before claiming each other’s lives with mortal wounds. As the life flagged from the Nord’s eyes, his grasp on his sword gave out, clattering uselessly on the deck.

Khelthur reached for the blade’s hilt and jumped to his feet, adrenaline spiking in his veins. Doing so caught the attention of another raider, who circled Khelthur’s outstretched blade, smiling wide with wicked teeth. 

Khelthur finally yelled and attempted to strike, but his blade was easily deflected. His untrained grip failed him, and the blade flew across the ship. 

The elf said something in a foreign tongue before attempting to pounce on the opportunity. In a panic, Khelthur also shouted something in a foreign tongue.

“Fus!”

It was enough to send the Chimer reeling backwards, losing his footing and falling into the frigid sea below with a scream.

Time slowed down for Khelthur in his victory, but caught up to him as something cut both his shirt and his flesh open behind him. Before he could turn around to face his new attacker, he had already passed out from the pain.

-

Khelthur awoke lying facedown on a table, his head hanging off the edge. His back ached, occasionally punctuated by a sharper sting. At one of these he groaned aloud. 

“Ah, Khelly’s awake,” exclaimed a voice. Khelthur looked up to see Captain Olmgerd bending down to look him in the face. “Ye took quite a hit there. Yer lucky I bothered to bring a healer along with us.” On cue, Khelthur’s back stings again, and he yelps, his head falling back down. “Not so lucky it’s ol’ Grimma. Ain’t the most gentle o’ women even at the best o’ times.”

“Did we win?” Khelthur rasped.

Captain Olmgerd stood back straight, and began pacing the cabin. “First of all, yer an idiot fer takin’ up a blade like that. Ye obviously ain’t got any trainin’ as a warrior. Yer just a deckswab. But I’ll commend ye on bravery. Brave idiot, at least.

“Second of all. And most important. Where’d ye get a tongue like that?”

“I don’t...understand,” said Khelthur, wincing as the healer worked her magic.

Olmgerd grabbed Khelthur by the hair and pulled his head up. “I saw what ye did. Blew that elf right off the deck with nothin’ but yer voice. Ain’t many men can do that. And no elves, not that I know. So how’d you do it?”

“I don’t know,” Khelthur answered.

Olmgerd looked him in the eyes for a moment. “Well,” he said finally, letting Khelthur’s hair loose, “I s’pose every sailor’s got his secrets.” 

“All done,” Grimma said. “Nasty scar, but it’ll fade in time.”

“Thanks, ol’ Grimma,” said Olmgerd, waving her away. She left the cabin without a word. When they were alone, Olmgerd leaned down to Khelthur’s ear and whispered, “Got someone ye might like to meet. He’d appreciate somebody of yer...particular talents.”

But Khelthur had passed back out.

-

“That’s now how you met.” The minotaur Labseor blew breath through her nostrils, slightly disturbing the jeweled nose ring there. 

“No, it’s not,” said the dwarf Khelthur, who stopped stroking his braided, beaded beard. “But it’s more interesting.” He turned his back to Labseor and pulled up his shirt, revealing a long scar diagonally crossing his entire back. “It’s how I got this scar, though.”

Labseor frowned. “Surely your first meeting with Ysmir was more exciting.”

“No, really,” Khelthur said, pulling down his shirt and turning around again. “He didn’t think much of me when we met, so there wasn’t much said or done.”

“I ask you to tell me about something, I expect you to do it. Not invent some pirate story.” Labseor leaned back against the tree and closed her eyes.

“Well, let me make it up to you. How about I tell you about the time Ysmir and I fought off a dragon bare-handed?”

“You’ve told me that story a thousand times,” Labseor muttered.

Khelthur apparently did not hear her. “Well, we were in the frozen wastes of the Pale…”

But Labseor had already fallen asleep.

[dwaynepride]

better off running wild

summary: college au. reader is supposed to be tutoring tony, but things get carried away.

words: 3,360

warnings: make out session

tags: @stanathanxoox​ @pageofultron​  @jrenn10​ @andreasworlsboring101 @dressed-up-just-like-z1ggy​ @ms-allenbrown​ @ikbenplant​ @dylpickles1267​ @diaryofafan17​ @specialagentlokitty​

There’s just something you’ve always hated about jocks. 

Most of them were alright, admittedly. Those who mostly kept to their own giant friend circles and didn’t pay you much attention. There’s even a basketball player in one of your classes who gave you part of his lunch during lecture, which was pretty cool. 

But the sentiment of disliking jocks, while cliche, is never so prominent than on Wednesday afternoons. 

“Hurry up, Slowpoke. I got practice at four.” Tony’s broad chest is pressing against your shoulder, pushing himself into your space. All it earns him is an elbow to the gut, and the sound of him grunting is strangely satisfying.

“I can only write so fast,” you snap back to him. With a huff, you continue to scribble your name down on the library’s guest sheet. Once upon a time, you had a peacefully available Wednesday afternoon schedule. Sometimes, you’d go to the coffee shop to study and work. Other times, you might just head back to your dorm and catch a quick nap.

Nowadays, because Professor Gibbs decided you were the best for the job, you get to hang out in the library tutoring Tony DiNozzo.

As if the Professor couldn't have paired you off with anybody less annoying, less eager to actually learn, or any more inclined not to run off at the mouth about his favorite movie that you’ve never even heard of before. And sure, Tony was hot. Jaw-droppingly gorgeous with big shoulders and a great smile and nice hair and somehow, that all just made him even more annoying because he knew he was a 12 out of 10.

Case in point, when you finally step away so he could sign his name, Tony smiled and winked. Probably a reflex for him to flirt with anything that moved or whatever. You’ve been dealing with it for weeks. 

So with a cross huff, you turn and walk off in the direction of your usual table.

The table is located at the very back of the library - a stuffy little corner nobody came around or even acknowledged and it’s worked wonders for Tony’s attention span. Out among the other tables, he just got too distracted - flagging down and talking to whichever one of a thousand friends he has, or attempting to chat up some poor girl who was trying to study. 

It’s sad, really, that you have to tuck him away in some dusty corner for Tony to focus, but it's where you are now.

By the time Tony shows up, you have all the books and papers laid out on the table for the tutoring session. “Did you do the homework last night?” You ask him without even looking up.

He’s quiet for a moment, slowly making his way around you to his own seat. “I did some of it,” Tony answers eventually.

“Some?”

“Yeah. I had a party to go to. Couldn’t finish it.”

Tony plops down in his chair, tilts his head up, and puts on that familiar glamorizing smile - probably hoping it would keep you from scolding him. Maybe before, that smile might’ve weakened you a bit. Not now, though. Not after dealing with his bullshit for nearly two months every single Wednesday afternoon. 

You sit with a deadpan frown. “So a party is more important than your grades, huh?”

Tony blinks and shrugs. “Well, this party was. You really should come along to one, sometime. Have some actual fun.”

This isn’t the first time Tony had tried persuading you into attending one of his dumb parties. Or even wanted to drag you along to his football games under the guise of it being fun and ‘the college experience.’ There was even a time where he called you in the middle of the night and asked if you wanted to go get drinks with him. As if you hadn’t been cramming all night for an exam.

Frustrating and irresponsible. How Tony DiNozzo even got into this school, you’ll never understand. 

“Let’s just work, okay? The test is this Friday and I doubt you’re prepared.”

He shrugs and, shockingly, doesn’t argue. And for the next hour or so, you talk him through his half-finished homework. But this was probably the most frustrating aspect about tutoring Tony - he wasn’t stupid. Not by a long shot. He understood the work and actually got the questions right, if he tried. He could easily pass the class on his own. 

Yet, you’re left tutoring him.

Once the homework is done, Tony slams his book shut with a smug smile. “Alright, Teach, I’m done. Am I free to go?”

You shake your head and bend over to reach for something in your backpack. “Not yet,” you answer him. “I went by Professor Gibbs’ office yesterday and picked something up that will help you on the test.”

Taking out a small packet of papers, you place it in front of Tony. He studies it, eyebrows furrowed together, until you speak up. “It’s a practice test for the exam. I was thinking you could take it, I’ll grade it, and we’ll see what you need to work on.”

Immediately, Tony lets out a loud groan - much too loud for a library, but really, you two were so far removed from everybody else that you doubt anybody even heard. Still, you glance around at the dusty bookshelves before roughly shoving Tony’s shoulder. “Don’t be a baby! I’m trying to help you pass this fucking class. Do I have to remind you that if you fail, you don’t get to play football? I’m doing you a favor by tutoring you - the least you can do is try.”

The rant just spilled out without anything to keep it back. Maybe Tony’s antics had slowly chipped away at your patience. 

And for once, he was quiet. Tony blinks his surprise at your tone, his gaze drops, and then he nods. “Yeah, I know. I’m sorry, I’ll do the test.” Resigned, he pulls the packet closer and starts working. Really working.

You’re left in shock that you just won so easily. Usually, Tony attempts to shrug you off, or he changes the subject, or just tries to flirt his way out. Seeing him actually working - trying - is a strange sight to see.

As the minutes tick by, you try to keep yourself busy as Tony works. Go on your phone, do some reading, go to the bathroom. But in the end, your focus just keeps shifting back to Tony - his eyes sharp with focus, and the furrow of his brow showcases just how much he’s paying attention to the practice test. 

But it’s not all you notice.

And….alright, you aren’t blind. You’re well aware that Tony looks good; how else does he get so many dates? You notice the way his jaw clenches tight. Every once in a while, he takes a deep breath and his whole body moves and you’re reminded of just how big his shoulders are. He must be one hell of a football player - not that you’d know. You’ve never gone to his games.

He’s got a cute nose, as well. Not that you’d ever tell him that.

And suddenly, before you could realize you were staring, Tony’s eyes meet yours. Flustered, you look away - but even out of the corner of your eye, his smirk is visible. “I’m done,” he says, handing over the packet. 

But as you go to take it, Tony pulls it just out of your reach. So you look back to him, and he’s watching you in that annoying Tony DiNozzo way. Like he’s finally figured you out. “I want a wager, though,” he continues.

“A wager,” you repeat.

“Yup. If I pass, I get to kiss you. Is that a deal?”

Kiss?

The word barely makes sense to you, right now. You’re left blinking and scoffing - a buffer to try to make sense of Tony’s words until finally, you can come up with actual words to say. “What if you failed?” Oh yes, brilliant; act like you’re going to go along with his stupid wager. That’s what you want. 

Tony’s smirk widens. “If I failed, I’ll walk back to my dorm in my underwear,” he announces. “Either way, you win.”

You ignore the sudden onslaught of butterflies and yank the packet out of his hands. “Fine. Deal. Maybe if I’m lucky, it'll be raining when we leave.”

Tony simply hums, unbothered by your insinuation that he’ll lose. And as you start grading the practice test, you can feel his eyes on you. It’s hard to focus and with a rush of heat, you realize that he must’ve felt you staring at him before. And your staring had been a complete accident - Tony is purposefully watching you. And you just pray that he doesn’t notice the new flush of your skin.

Instead, you force yourself to focus on Tony’s test. Something easier for you to understand.

7) When did the Minoan Civilization end?

Tony’s answer: The Bronze Age Collapse. 

Okay, that one is correct. Fair enough, it’s not even that hard of a question. Next one:

8) The City of Rome was founded in:

Okay, he’s got to get this one wrong. In all the time you’ve been tutoring Tony, there was one kind of date you knew he was terrible with, and it was the historical kind. 

His answer: 753 BC. 

Damn.

And it just kept going on like that. More correct answers than incorrect. Even when you finished grading his test, you didn’t want to look up and face him and admit that he totally passed the practice exam with flying colors. That would also mean confessing that he won his stupid little wager.

“How’d I do?” He eventually asks. And his voice is low; very different from his annoyingly loud and boisterous self that you can’t help but look up. 

He’s watching you carefully, like you have his undivided attention. It’s a little unnerving, but at the same time, maybe a little exhilarating. And you don’t even have the mind to wonder why.

And it takes a moment to remember how to speak. “You passed,” you tell him, matching his soft tone. Perhaps if Tony were acting normal, you would’ve added on a teasing comment. Something about him getting a good score against all the odds, or maybe comparing him to the second coming of Albert Einstein. Then Tony would say something equally stupid and he’d leave because he has his precious football practice. 

None of that happens - this is uncharted territory.

He hums again, slow and purposeful, as if he’s thinking. And you notice him lean over just a little, on the very outskirts of what’s considered your own personal space. You catch a whiff of his scent and almost catch yourself leaning away from him.

Is this why Tony is so popular? Because he has his own gravitational pull? That must be it. 

“Looks like I won the wager,” he says with a smirk pulling on his lips. “I believe you owe me a kiss.”

His words make you hesitate. Was he serious? Tony DiNozzo: football star, annoying heart throb, everybody’s friend….actually wanted to kiss you? It has to be some kind of dumb joke. A sick prank. Something to tell his friends later on that he scammed you into kissing him and all he had to do was stop playing dumb.

Immediately, it becomes easier to lean away from Tony. To break out of the spell that his eyes had somehow cast onto you. His expression changes, but you ignore it. “Did you plan this?”

“Plan what?”

“Making a stupid bet to get me to kiss you. It’s a joke, isn’t it? A prank that you and your dumb football buddies thought up? Well, it’s not very damn funny.”

You don’t even attempt to hide the anger in your voice. Tony’s eyebrows furrow together, looking confused but you ignore him to start hurriedly gathering your stuff up. You’ll just have to go to Professor Gibbs tomorrow and ask him to assign a new tutor for Tony - if he even needs one. Seems like he can manage himself just fine.

You’re stuffing a textbook into your bag while Tony juggles with his words. “What? Hey- hold on, it’s wasn’t a joke or anything-”

“Right. And you just want me to kiss you.”

“What if I do?”

Immediately, your eyes whip back around to face Tony. The way he straightens up does offer a tiny bit of satisfaction, admittedly. “You don’t, Tony. And that’s fine, I don’t really care. I’m sure you can find someone else to kiss if you really wanted to,” you tell him blatantly. 

“I know I can,” fucking typical, “but I want it to be you.”

Slowly, you cease packing up your things. The next time you look at Tony, you really look at him. He looks serious enough; though, you’re not even sure if you’ve ever seen a serious Tony DiNozzo. But you reckon this might be it. And if he’s being serious, maybe he’s being honest.

“Did you even really need a tutor?”

He shrugs, and a smirk falls on his lips. Not condescending, but almost like your question amused him. You’re not sure which is worse. “Maybe not. But hey, you make history a whole lot more interesting,” he answers, voice smooth and sounding like the regular Tony that you know.

It makes you scoff lightly. Eyes breaking away, but he tilts his head to keep the contact. “Listen, you don’t have to kiss me if you don’t want to. But I think you do. And I know I want to, so…”

You finally stop and think about things. The way he lured you into tutoring him was very....clever, in a way. Putting himself in your domain instead of dragging you kicking and screaming into his. Tony is definitely a lot smarter than he lets on, and it leaves you wondering how the hell you let him get the edge on you, like this. 

But he was also right - you did want to kiss him. Desperately. And you didn’t even really know it until just now. Looking at him, your eyes drop down to his smirking lips. And as he starts to lean in closer, you don’t pull away like last time. Once again, you’re caught up in his gravity. Being pulled in helplessly, as if he’s a massive blackhole in the middle of your solar system.

Tony’s close now, so you fight to grab onto any sense of logical thought. “Tony,” you murmur out his name. He hums in response. “I don’t wanna turn out like all your other dates. You show ‘em a good time, and then never call them again.” You watch his eyes flicker up in surprise. “I know about all that.”

He hesitates, and then huffs in amusement. “‘Course I’ll call you. Gonna need help on that final exam, aren’t I?”

Another dumb joke, but you’re not too focused on dissecting the implications of his words. He’s so close, you can smell his cologne. It’s a little strong but also dizzying and once his warm breath wafts over your lips, you can’t help but let your eyes fall shut. A silent invitation that Tony gladly accepts.

His lips are warm and wet against yours, and they feel like fireworks. 

Yes, the thought of Tony’s many dates and flings had made you a little wary. But right now, you’re thankful for each and every one of them. The way Tony kisses...it just melts the world away. No more dusty bookshelves or crappy library lights. No hushed laughter from a group of girls that you’ve been hearing for the past hour. This corner of the library is a tiny world that only you and Tony inhabit, if for a short time.

He’s steadily stoking a fire in your stomach, even if he doesn’t know it. It gets stronger when Tony hums against your lips and raises a hand to fit along your cheek - his palm is big and warm and the feel of it nearly makes you shiver. 

And then Tony laughs, and you wonder if you really did shiver.

But the detour was brief - he goes right back to kissing you good. Sucking on your bottom lip for a moment, stops, and then waits for you to want more from him. You don’t even know when your fingers found their way into his hair, but Tony groans a bit. The sound of him goes straight to the pit of your gut.

His lips are relentless. Barely giving you a chance to breathe and by the time you notice his hand has vanished from your cheek, your lungs are aching slightly. And before you can wonder too much, the hand is suddenly on your thigh.

The touch was unexpected. Shocking, even, but definitely not unpleasant. His hand is large and strong and when he squeezes the flesh of your thigh, you can’t help but moan just a little against Tony’s mouth. The moan, of course, was completely accidental and it sends a hot wave up into your face because you know he heard that. 

But he seemed to like it. Tony’s grinning, and his hand squeezes your thigh again. Maybe it wasn’t all too embarrassing. “I like the way you sound,” he rumbles out. When he comes in to kiss you again, his hands slowly slides up. Just an inch, but it feels like a mile and you’re trying really hard not to start writhing under his touch. “Like the way you taste, too.”

Fuck, he can’t be talking right now. Not when his kisses and his touches are already doing so much to turn your body into putty in his hands. Everything’s hot and burning when he moves his fingers up another half-inch, dangerously close to the sensitive part of your inner thigh. 

By now, you’re nearly panting. Fingers gripping Tony’s forearm so tight, you’re surprised it hasn’t hurt him. What’s worse, you don’t even know why you’re holding onto him or what you want him to do: stop, or keep going. Evidently, Tony’s in the same boat. Because he leans in real close, his breath wafting over your ear. “What’re you thinking? Wanna see how quiet you can be?” He asks, voice lowered to a harsh whisper.

You force your brain to start working, and you try to decide. You really, really try. But the choice is stolen from you.

“Hey, this is a library. Get some space between you two!”

Of fucking course the librarian picks this time to come around to this desolate little corner.

Instantly, you shove Tony away, eyes dropping away from him and the librarian. “Sorry,” Tony says, not sounding particularly apologetic. Eventually, the librarian walks off. And his entire focus is back on you. And for a moment, you wonder if he's about to start up where he left off. Or maybe ask if you’d want to go back to his dorm. You don’t even know what your answer would be - yes? No? Can you have both at once? 

“Tony-”

“I got practice,” he cuts in. His smile is back as he leans in for another quick kiss. But Tony doesn’t back away too fast. He stays, and when he speaks, his breath is on your lips once again - something so small, but already so addicting. “You really should come to one of my parties sometime. I think you’d have a lot of fun.”

With that, he straightens up, picks his backpack off the ground, and walks off. Once he’s disappeared behind the bookshelves, you’re left alone at the table. Surrounded by books and papers and still finding it hard to breathe.

Were you still going to ask Professor Gibbs for a new tutor? Maybe not.

Was your decision entirely influenced by Tony and his lips and the warm imprint of his hand on your thigh? It’s possible.

But as you continue to gather up your supplies - hands shaky and legs a little wobbly - you can’t stop thinking about what might have happened if the librarian hadn’t walked up when he did.

[glassworkspiderlilies]

interlinear

Genshin Impact | @albelumiweek 2021 Day 2 | Touch | AO3 Summary: “Hello, Albedo,” Lumine says, her voice amused as she slips into his workshop, gently closing the door behind her, “It seems that your boredom is causing trouble of its own.”  Notes: day 2!!! featuring a distinct lack of touch, or does it? Σ(-᷅_-᷄๑)

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.

.

True to her status as a hero of Mondstadt, Lumine arrives at the Knights of Favonius headquarters as a balm to aid of their ailing members. It is a severe affliction, one not so easily contracted nor treated in a man such as Albedo, and the news he is affected is kept only among the Acting Grandmaster’s and Albedo’s close circle.

“Hello, Albedo,” Lumine says, her voice amused as she slips into his workshop, gently closing the door behind her, “It seems that your boredom is causing trouble of its own.”

He is sitting by the window, elbow resting on a stack of finished books that has risen tall enough for him to do so, propping his head up with his cheek against the backs of his fingers. In his free hand is an ancient-looking scroll, quite a bit of it already unraveled and pooling onto the floor. Despite the assumption that surely it must be occupying his time, a sense of displeasure radiates off of the Chief Alchemist anyway, though his expression remains impassive. His workshop is in a state of disarray—even more so than usual—with various experiments bubbling away in isolated spaces, scribbled notes and charts both strewn about and pinned up, and half-used ingredients still scattered along surfaces.

His demeanor brightens, however, when he sees her, the oppressive pall within the room dissipating like smoke as he lifts his head.

“Hello, Lumine,” he greets back, “Is that what you would call this?”

“If not boredom, then a slump,” she amends thoughtfully, leaning her back against the door. “You’ve said so before that specimens are finite, and the enlightenment of investigative process is fleeting in nature. I expect this is a rather severe dead end, isn’t it?”

His gaze turns more piercing as she repeats his words back to him, and she tilts her head a little, giving him a pointed look. She had been concerned back then, on Dragonspine, as it was evident his list of worthy specimens and points of interest was already being exhausted. That seed from another world was a rare thing—wholly new and exciting, a problem difficult enough for him to have to enlist the help of someone else. He’d been satisfied at the seed’s transient blooming, but also perhaps a bit disappointed that the experiment had come to an end.

“…Even so, there are plenty of more mundane studies to be done,” he says lightly, turning back to his scroll, “I will confess I did not think I could be subject to ennui.”

Lumine chuckles a little at that.

“To be honest, I didn’t think so either. But if you keep doing things that you already deem dull when you’re bored, it just makes it worse, doesn’t it?”  

Albedo sighs, finally putting down the scroll entirely. She’s right. It is unusual indeed for him to get to this point; between his work as both Chief Alchemist and Captain of the Investigation Team and taking care of Klee, normally his days are very full, even without new studies to pursue. But there’s a brief dry spell in the work for the Knights, which does happen every so often and thus signals a well-deserved break. He does spend more time with Klee, but there are also days where she goes out adventuring with her friends, and it would not do for him to be overbearing either. It is the same with Sucrose and Timaeus; they need time to continue their studies and garner results, and to hover too much would be more detrimental than beneficial.

At first he had turned his hand to busywork—stocking the Knights on potions and other supplies, reading lesser known manuscripts and theses, also walking around and sketching more. But too soon did the Knights’ stores become overstocked, that his focus for reading all these texts flagged, that his artistic inspiration and motivation dwindled.

Albedo with nothing to do was something of a menace. Not because of his attitude or any such thing—though he did become more intimidating to talk to, as the air of dissatisfaction hung about him—but because he was so capable that there was simply nothing he could be given at the moment that would be considered up to par.

Except, Kaeya had brought up, when he, Jean, and Lisa had met, the Traveler, whom Albedo had a continuing interest in. Jean had brightened at this, while Lisa had raised a slender brow at the mischievous twinkle in Kaeya’s eye but said nothing.

“I shall send the Traveler to Albedo when she arrives,” Jean had said with a relieved smile, “I’m sure she’ll be happy to assist; if I recall, they are good friends as well.”

Kaeya had chuckled, and all but purred his response.

“Indeed they are. I’m certain her company will be very…stimulating.”

And so Lumine was sent, though not without her own agenda.

“You’re correct,” Albedo admits, then gives her a wry smile. “I suppose I am in need of assistance.”

“Lucky for you, I’m here.”

“So you are. Tell me then, how shall I occupy myself?”

“With me,” Lumine says, continuing without a change in expression while Albedo blinks hard, “I’m offering myself as a study.”  

There is a silence. Albedo regards her carefully, but she does not flinch under his gaze.

“I subjected you to my research back on Dragonspine, and you went out of your way in being cooperative with a total stranger. You needn’t go so far again just to humor me,” he says politely, and Lumine smiles.

“It’s only partially a favor to you, and besides, we are far from strangers now. You told me back then…I function much like a human from this world, but the fact still remains that I am not from this world. So, what about the percentage that I am not like a human from Teyvat? It is difficult to see a situation for what it is when you are in the center of it. So I’d like your help, to find answers to my own questions. Symbiotic, isn’t it?”

Albedo’s face is impassive, but he remembers the sediment that formed at the bottom of the vial which she drank from, the sediment that should not have been there. He had made a point to tell her how ordinary the results were at the time, but she was starting to probe at the loopholes in his explanation herself. He is not entirely sure what she should know, but…there are countless questions that could be posed in regards to the Traveler from another world, countless avenues of research.

“I’m in no position to refuse,” he says, inclining his head. “But I am glad that this will be a mutually beneficial endeavor.”

“How sweet,” she says, her eyes crinkling, and he blinks. “But so it is. And with that, I shall give myself over to you.”

But he doesn’t yet move from his seat, and the two stare at each other from across the room. Her lips are still curved in an amused expression, and the fact that they are wholly alone in his space strikes him more clearly now. Paimon isn’t even here, he realizes, and he belatedly thinks that she would make a wonderful study as well if she allowed it. But oddly, he does not particularly feel like asking where the fairy is.

This shouldn’t hit him the way it does. They’d been alone for stretches on Dragonspine too, and many times after that when gathering materials or having lunch or just making simple conversation. But at present there is the particular manner in which she speaks, the words that she chooses, and the fact that she is still leaning against the door.

There is another brief silence before he speaks again, very slowly, his eyes not leaving hers.

“I suppose I should warn you that I intend to be thorough, as is my nature.”

Her amusement deepens.

“I would expect no less,” she says easily. “I would be disappointed otherwise.”

“I would not want you to be uncomfortable at any point in the process.”

“I would tell you, if I took issue.”

“The experiment may take quite some time, as well.”

“Don’t worry, my schedule is cleared for you. Barring anything drastic, of course.”

“And I’m afraid that my workshop is lacking in amenities.”

She glances around the room, inclining her head towards a small, squashed couch that is shoved against the wall, its seats occupied by various books and paraphernalia.

“That will do just fine, once it is cleared off,” she says.

There is a pause. He does not say these things to deter her, merely to confirm her will.

It is his turn to be amused, that she answered all of them so readily, and he tilts his head, measuring. He has to marvel at her, as well as the situation they are in.

She senses his mirth, and tilts her head back.

“May I?” she asks, gesturing.

“It is probably for the best.”

She opens the door a little, reaching out and flipping over the sign hanging outside to say Experiment in Progress. She closes the door with her back, the same way she did when she first came in, watching him as she reaches one hand towards the doorknob.

The lock clicks.

Albedo stands, removing his gloves as he crosses over to her and cups her cheek.

“Well then,” he says, and she finally pushes away from the door. “Shall we begin?”

.

(Kaeya comes by sometime later and knocks, the sign indicating that Albedo is free. He steps in once permission is received, and smiles when he sees Lumine reading a book on the unearthed couch, Albedo on the opposite side of the room observing one of his bubbling concoctions.

“Hey, you two!” Kaeya says cheerfully, holding up a bag. “Brought you some snacks. How’d it go?”

It is a very nonspecific question.

“Lumine has been very helpful,” Albedo says without pause, attention still on his experiment, “I think I’ll be making a breakthrough on this soon.”

“How nice,” Kaeya says, turning to Lumine. “And you? I hope our frustrated Chief Alchemist didn’t work you too hard.”

“Albedo is always a gentleman,” Lumine says smoothly, her eyes revealing nothing, but her direct stare also lets Kaeya know she knows exactly what he’s doing and is having none of it. “I’ve learned a lot about advanced alchemy.”

“How nice,” Kaeya repeats, his lips quirking up. “Say, how about we all go out for a drink? You two have been cooped up all day, so why not a different kind of diversion?”

“No thank you,” Lumine and Albedo say together, their tones unfailingly polite.

“I am at a delicate stage in this experiment now,” Albedo explains, gesturing in front of him. “It will require careful monitoring.”

“And I’d like to master the process this book details before I have to leave Mondstadt again. But perhaps another day, before I head out?” Lumine demurs.

“Sure, sure,” Kaeya says with an airy wave of his hand. “I’ll grab Rosaria instead, then. We’ll be at Angel’s Share, if you change your mind.”

Lumine and Albedo make noises of acknowledgement.

Kaeya gives a lazy salute before walking out, leaving the door askew as though by carelessness.

He does not turn around, but he smirks when he hears the very quiet but telltale sound of the door closing behind him.)

[lonelyreputation]

C’est Toi (coffee shop au) • PROLOGUE, wc: 1.4k

Wednesday - January 02, 2019 - 18:31

There’s a lot of people watching at an airport.  The thought always crosses my mind––who is returning from a trip?  Did they enjoy it?  Or are they dreading returning home?Who just left the comfort of their own home? Are they sad?  Elated?  Well, I guess that’s more than just one thought.  I still have an hour until my flight.  Why is it required to be at the airport hours before an international flight?  Just another thought to tack on.

“Oh, sweetie,” McLane’s mother wrapped her arms tightly around her daughter, “I cannot believe you’re off for another semester!”

McLane let out a breathy laugh, squeezing her eyes as tight as her mother’s hug as to not let any tears spill over, “Yeah,” it was a weak response, McLane knew it, but she didn’t want to cry during her send off, she promised herself she wouldn’t cry, “another.”

Easing her way out of the hug, McLane’s mom held her daughter away at arms length, with her hands softly rubbing her shoulders, “London, oh goodness, how’d you manage to convince us on that, Mick?”

Shrugging her shoulders, McLane abandoned her mother’s soft gaze to stare at her suitcase.  One large suitcase to stowaway under the plane, one carry on for the overhead bin, and her back pack.  McLane’s stare soon hardened into a glare at her luggage––she swore they were mocking her and that they knew she was forgetting something.

“Yeah, Mick,” William, McLane’s twin brother raised an eyebrow, “How’d the golden girl manage to escape for a semester?”

McLane let out a genuine laugh as her mother whipped her head to the side and glared at her son as their father lovingly hit him on the back side of the head.  William gave his father a side-eye and rubbed the back of his head.  He rolled his eyes, stood up straight, and opened both of his arms wide, “Gonna miss my golden girl.”

It was a curious thing––William and McLane––while they were twins, they looked nothing like siblings.  William stood at six feet tall, while McLane was five foot and three inches.  William inherited his mother’s blonde curly hair and green eyes, and McLane had her father’s pin straight brunette hair and blue eyes.  Physically they didn’t look like each other, but they were almost identical in personality.

Once McLane felt her mother’s hands drop from her shoulder, she barreled into her brother’s open arms.  She clutched to the back of his red Maryland flag t-shirt as he soothingly ran his hands along her back.  She took in a shaky breath as her brother’s fingers continued to ghost over her back.  

How was she going to survive a semester abroad?

She and William didn’t attend the same college, but she would road trip every spring to watch his lacrosse games at Duke, and he would road trip to see her at least once a semester at the University of Virginia.  Between their road trips seeing each other and traveling home for the holidays, they always saw each other a minimum of four times a semester.  But with a plane ticket to London being more expensive than a five hour car ride, it would be a different semester for both of them.

“You should probably check your bag then get in line for security,” McLane turned her head to the side to see her father looking down at his watch, “Wouldn’t want you to miss your flight.”

At the mention of her departure, McLane’s fist tightened around her brother’s shirt and she buried her head back into his chest.  William tightened his hold on his sister.  He knew his sister better than anyone else, and he knew just how bad she wanted to study abroad.  Ever since she was thirteen, he vividly remembered their summers when they shared a room at their grandmother’s beach house in Ocean City, Maryland and how she would stay up for hours talking his ear off about studying abroad.

William kissed the top of her head and whispered, “This is all you’ve ever wanted––it’s literally just hours away now.”

McLane nodded and once she got her breathing under control, she let go of her brother’s shirt and quickly wiped her eyes with the heel of her palm.  She took four deep breaths before speaking, “I––I’ll just miss you so much,” She sniffled, “You know how I am with goodbyes.”

William smiled down at his sister and patter her head.  She narrowed her eyes at him.

“We’ll be here when you get back, idiot.”

“William.”

William turned to his chastising mother as he held his hands up in surrender, chuckling, “It’s a term of endearment.”

“No name calling,” Their mother glared at him before bringing her fingers up to her temple to rub them, “I swear you’re the reason why Daisy back talks so often.”

McLane snorted, “She’s fifteen, she’s at the worst age.”

“Lucky you for escaping.”

The twins shared a beaming smile with each other before turning to their mother with the same shit-eating grin. The one that always got them out of trouble.  She looked at her kids with a hard stare, but traded in her faux hardness for a tender gaze, “I miss you both so much when you go away.”

“I’ll still be around to bother you.” 

“William’s very good at that,” McLane nodded her head with a tone that said she wasn’t messing around, but playful enough to earn her a forehead flick from her twin.

“Hey––“

“Mick,” It was their father who interrupted before any of their shenanigans started.  He held up her book bag in one hand with a solemn look on his face, “It’s time.”

It was like the past few minutes of playing around with her brother evaporated.  Her throat went dry, palms sweaty, and she felt the familiar prickle behind her eyes start back up.

Turning away from her brother, McLane took a few steps toward her dad, took her backpack from him and gave him a hug.  It was a quick hug––their father wasn’t much of a touchy feely sort of guy with his emotions––but she knew she was loved.  He kissed her head before taking her larger suitcase and rolling it towards her, “I’ll help you check your bag.”  That was his way of saying everything will be alright.  She nodded her head.

She wished checking her bag took longer.  She wanted to prolong her family time for as much as she could––five months she would be without them––five months too long.

When McLane and her father reached back to where William and her mother stood, she gripped the strap of her backpack and took her carryon suitcase from her mother.  She swallowed down a cry, “I––I’lll––See you later?”

McLane looked at everyones expression.  Her mother’s eyes were rimmed in redness as she gave a tight-lipped quivering smile, her father sent her a nod and a soft smile, and William was beaming ear to ear.  She returned his grin and took her passport out from her sweatshirt pocket, flipping the book between her fingers, and with one final smile––a genuine smile––she spun around and headed for the security line.

“Hey, Mick!”

McLane stopped right before the black barrier and scrunched up her eyebrows at her brother’s voice.  His hands were cupped around his mouth––very unnecessary, she thought, because she wasn’t that far away from him.

“You won’t want to come home by the time you’re finished!”

With a roll of her eyes she shook her head.  There would be nothing that would make her not want to come back to her family.  They were her everything.  Sure––William could be a nuisance, her mother could nag her to death, her father brought up post-graduate plans every chance he got, and Daisy was at the God awful stage where everything revolved around her as the world simultaneously hated her––but she wouldn’t trade them in for the world.

So as she handed her ticket and passport to the TSA officer, put her luggage on the conveyor belt, took her shoes off, and walked through the metal detector, she looked back one last time.  Her father cradled her mother into his side as she sobbed into his shoulder and William looked at her with a smirk and a glimmer in his eyes that spoke volumes of him being certain she wouldn’t want to return home.

She rolled her eyes and flipped him off.

a/n: Coffee shop AU! Coffee shop AU!!!! Woot! I’ve been working/planning this for quite sometime! Exciting stuff coming in the future!! 

And while Shawn isn’t ~in this chapter, he WILL be in the next chapter!! This is just some background so you get the gist of McLane! Let me know what you thought of this / what you think is gonna happen in the future! Whoop whoop!  

I’m still also filling out requests so keep your eyes peeled for a baker!Shawn AU, unrequited love piece, and a jealous!Shawn 👀

[writing-the-end]

LoL Chapter 10- Danes

Masterpost

A Wizard Hermits tale (AU belongs to @theguardiansofredland )

Welcome to Danes, the valley of the Guild of Asklepion. The healers are under attack, and call upon the help of the hermits- legal or not, they’re the last hope to help a massacred guild. 

__________________________________________

Down in the peaceful valley, tucked in the quiet hills of central Lairyon, a fire raged and roared. Flames burn like dragon tongues, lashing across the wooden stables and grass covered roofs, marigold petals curling and wilting from the sheer heat of the destruction. 

“Are we too late to help the Asklepions?” Ren whimpers, red light mirroring off his tinted sunglasses. His tail tucks between his legs, ears folding back as an ifrit squabbles across the verdant grass plains. The stout monster leaves a trail of fire in its wake, black husked form like smoke rising from the angry fire. 

A shrill cry, and a loud crack makes the entire guild jump. From the flames, a massive branch whacks the fire monster. Enough strength to send the husked remains of the ifrit crashing into the strong base of an oak tree. The husk falls apart upon impact, like a snowball struck against a hard surface. 

From behind the branch wielding wizard, a kipling stumbles over his feet and opens his arms wide. Water sprays across the fire, dousing the flame. Smoke roils free, masking the damage to its fullest extent. At least, what’s visible to the hermits on the hill. But they can see that the fire is only the latest damage dealt to the healing guild’s peaceful complex, Danes. A quiet monastery for recovery and recuperation needs it’s own bones fixed. 

The woman with the tree branch, white dress fluttering in the wind as a white flag, locks eyes with the hermits. Even from such a distance, the hermits can see her anger cross the healer’s face and her weapon rise up. The kipling grabs her arm, pulling it down and pointing at the group. False leans on her claymore. “Should we maybe go down there and not stare?” 

Through the plain of wildflowers and grasses, the hermits arrive at the smoldering remains of the retreat. “Who are you and why are you here?” The woman with the branch growls, raising the weapon above her springy black hair. “Are you the ones who keep sending these shadow monsters?” 

“Well that’s rude.” Etho grumbles, crossing his arms. Those aren’t shadow monsters. Shadow monsters are pretty chill, in his opinion. 

“No, no it’s not us.” TFC steps back, alarmed by the amount of harm the healing mage did to that ifrit. For a guild that pledges an oath to heal, she definitely did a lot of damage to the husk. 

“These are the people Galena sent the message to.” The Kipling waves to the group. “That little boat I had to send all the way to the ocean?” 

“A little late, but better late than never. I’m Iris, come on, we need to get inside before another patrol notices us.” Iris tosses her branch to the side. 

“I’m Micha, I’m so glad you got our letter.” He offers the first smile the hermits have had since they arrived, something lacking in such a once peaceful and tranquil place. 

“What happened here?” Grian questions, fluttering over the other hermits to talk. He feels like he should be in on this- he is the guild’s only healer. 

“It was our second attack today. Lucky for us, the only real trouble was that ifrit.” Micha responds, running a hand over the charred wood of a collapsed building. The grassy green roof has fallen to the side, slanting upwards like a sudden hill. It was burnt, but not in any way that would have knocked it over. 

“Nothing about this is lucky.” Iris growls. “We’ve been attacked for the past week by irrational, strong, ash grey monsters. They destroyed our infirmary, ruined the gardens and healing runes. And worse of all, we had to break our oath. We’re healers, not fighters.” 

“Well, lucky for you, we’re a jack-of-all-trades kind of guild.” TFC hums, stooping low and picking up the remains of a runestone, the carved mark shattered but a curve and a line visible. 

“How did your guildmaster know about us?” Grian questions, looking more to Micha than Iris. He knows when to push boundaries, and when someone is best left alone. Something he’s learned the hard way. 

Micha shrugs. “I’m not sure, but Galena wanted only you...who are you people?” Micha tilts his head, wavy blue hair cascading off his shoulders. 

“We’re the Order of Hermits!” Grian cheers, proud of his guild, his family. 

But Doc knows that doesn’t answer Micha’s question. “We’ve faced these husks before. I don’t know how your guildmaster learned of us, but we can handle this kind of threat.” 

“You’ve seen this before?” Iris turns, suddenly intrigued by the group. “How? Why? Did they attack your complex as well?” 

The entire guild goes quiet, looking at any other place than the woman before them. Eyes falling on the burned and broken buildings, weapons and corpses scattered about. Flakes of husks still swirl among the ash and charred homes. Cleo growls, the silence killing her all over again. “We were contracted by Magistrate Dolios, to investigate a town that was having issues. When we went there, we found the entire place was dead of life, like all color and energy was sucked from the ground.” 

Iris tilts her head back. “That’s definitely not what’s happening here. Apart from the burnt buildings, everything here is still green and alive.” 

“You haven’t seen a creepy, adamantine crystal that sucks life up and attacks with spooky black mist?” Joe scribbles notes in his journal, the feather tip of his quill wiggling back and forth at his furious writing. Iris draws a perturbed stare at the poet wizard, and that’s all the answer he needs. 

“But there were people there. Or, what remains of what we can only call husks of people. Ashen, grey and flaky. Like that ifrit. They attacked us for no reason.” Cleo adds, catching Iris back on their story. 

“So...how’d you stop them?” Micha questions, motioning for them to continue to follow towards the guild hall. 

“We...didn’t really.” Cub rubs his neck, biting his lip. “We were outmatched, we didn’t know what to do at the time. I portaled them away, and we escaped.” 

“You survived, that’s what matters.” Micha soothes, brushing the white toga he wears, reminding himself and the disgruntled Iris of their position as healers. “What did magistrate Dolios do when you told him what you saw?” 

“Nothing. He sent us away, and did nothing. He didn’t even pay us.” Iskall hisses. “What a mega douche.” 

“That’s an understatement.” A shaken, elderly voice rises above Micha and the creaking noise of their guild halls opening. “At least you answered my plea for help.” 

The guild turns, peering into the dark halls. Across the overturned chairs and broken chandeliers, past the tables turned hospital beds. But the guildmaster is regal, even in her worst hours. Wisened eyes and a kind, wrinkled face is framed by silver hair. The old woman rises from her chair, her movement surprisingly agile despite her age. Fingers curl around her staff, the gemstone at the peak glowing as she moves. TFC recognizes the crystal as labradorite- an enchanted staff. Clever. 

“You spoke with the Council as well?” Xisuma tilts his head. She doesn’t look like she can walk from her bed to the bathroom without help, much less all the way to Milliara. 

“When these ‘husk’ attacks all started, we were hundreds strong.” Galena motions her staff to the expansive guild hall. “The Asklepions are masters of healing, many of us hailing from the great schools of Edenswell. As you can see now, there is hardly more than a dozen of us left, and no amount of pandering or begging can get the council to aid us.” 

“They wouldn’t help a healing guild?” Grian frowns, pouting with his arms crossed.

“They wouldn’t help a legal guild?” Doc raises his eyebrows.

“You guys aren’t legal?!” Iris squawks, shushed by Micha. She’s left to grumble, stalking off into the dredges of the guild hall. 

“I first went to the council. Magistrate Dolios turned down my request, the bastard.” Her thin lips curl, pleased to say such a dirty word. “I went to the Council guilds, each and every one of them. The same answer. There was only one person who could help us, one person above even the Council.” 

“King Sor.” Stress whispers. 

“Smart girl. Most don’t remember a time when the crown had a say in the nation’s dealings. Not since Dolios rose to power.” Galena nods her head slowly. “I went to King Sor, begged for him to help.” 

“And he said no as well?” Etho takes an educated guess, seeing the disaster the Asklepions are in now. 

“He said yes. Such a kind young man, a good king. Only wants the best for his people. King Sor expressed concern, fear for us. He wanted to help.” 

“So why didn’t he?” TFC tilts his head. The king could have easily sent the entire arcane guard to put an end to all of this.

“When the young king expressed his concern about these husk attacks, the entire throne room was swarmed with the Arcane guard- not the royal guard. They ushered King Sor from the hall, and promptly arrested his advisor, Tristea.” Galena closes her eyes, breath shaking across wrinkles. “I have never seen such fear in a person’s eyes than what I saw in Sormena’s eyes, I swear I saw his hair turn a mix of blue, purple, and copper.” 

The hermits share furrowed, concerned expressions mirrored across all their faces. Mumbo and Stress glance at each other, mouthing the name of their king. Who they both remember when he was just a prince. They both attended his coronation, what felt like a whole different life ago. Sor was always concerned about others, but he wasn’t afraid to speak his mind. This Sor Gelana speaks of is nothing like the one they knew. 

“So you’ve been fighting the husks all on your own? No arcane guards? Just…” Doc motions around at the destroyed guild hall. The last bastion to the dozen or so healing mages that remained. “Just a bunch of peaceful healers with no offensive magic?” 

“You’d be surprised how clever we healers can get when backed into a corner.” Iris growls. “We may not like it, but we’ve been able to hold our own, at least the best we can. My magic can set bones- but it can also break them.” She clenches her fist, causing Keralis to jump back. He swears he can hear the sound of a bone snapping, but no one cries out in pain. 

“But even then, we aren’t enough on our own.” Micha shakes his head. “That’s why we need you. Do you think you can help?” 

TFC looks around, at the dark hall. A hall that once was filled with life, with white robed healers mingling among patients and fellow guildmembers, sharing their meals in the warm glow of torches on the ancient wood tables that stretched down the hall. Now, the torches are out and the seats are empty, tables for food now makeshift hospital beds and barricades against the doors. This place is nothing like Gildara. If anything, it’s worse. There was no sign of struggle in Gildara, only a lack of life. But here, he can see the life fading, burnt and broken. And with each healer, each guildmember that dies, they take a bit with it. Filling the land with death. 

Whatever these husks are, whatever kind of dark magic they’re from, it steals life, and leaves only death. “We-” 

The door behind the hermits slams open, heavy oak bouncing off the aged wood walls. A lithe man is gasping for breath, blood coating his white alb and ash clinging to the hem. Half of the healers jump into action, drawing their circles and weapons. Every single hermit brandishes their own magic, waiting to see if the man is a husk or human. 

He lifts his head, revealing deep brown eyes and a feverish face. “They’re back. On the Western rise. More than I’ve ever seen.”

[ryleighisapanda]

Love Ain’t

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Warnings: slight smut? just at the very, very end, and cursing

Genre: slight angst?, fluff, bestfriend to lovers

Summary: Peter and [Name] are forced to confront their feelings about one another when she turns to him for comfort after being stood up.

Inspiration: @spiderbabyparker‘s long-ago (when you were still lovely-parker, haha) ask sent to @petersshirts - “Stark!reader getting stood up on her date and rushing to her room crying when she gets back from her date leading to Peter (her best friend) going to comfort her, and he kisses her forehead and says “it’s okay babe” and they end up admitting feelings for each other?”

Notes: So it’s a little different from the ask, but I hope it’s still up to par :)

--

At the time, [Name] wasn’t even sad. She was pissed. She had put way too much time and energy in to be stood up like this - no call, no text, nothing. Not to mention she had bought a new dress specifically for this occasion (she blamed her dad for raising her to believe a new outfit had to be bought for every event). 

[Name] plopped down on the spinny bar stool and flagged down a waitress. After ordering a milkshake and cheese fries, she pulled out her phone and opened TikTok. Already her “grwm: date edition” video had a couple thousand views. There were those stupid comments like “first” and “early”; annoying ones like “legend has it she replies if you’re early” (what do you even say to that??) and “bet she won’t reply” (guess what, you’re right); heartwarming ones like “omg where did you buy that dress??” and “can i be that pretty”; and then excited ones like “let us know how it goes!” and “someone remind me to come back”. 

When the waitress came back, [Name] thanked her and gave her exact change. [Name] scrolled through her For You Page for the next hour, long after she’d finished her shake and fries. She probably would’ve sat there until the diner closed had it not been for a TikTok Flash had posted featuring - are you fucking kidding me? - Lance Thompson, Flash’s cousin but more importantly: [Name]’s date. 

[Name] had tried giving Lance the benefit of the doubt. Maybe his phone had died, and his car had broken down. Maybe his mom had gone into labor. Maybe he’d been attacked by a pack of sewage rats while taking the subway. 

The last one was a bit extreme, but after seeing that Flash’s video had been posted a mere seventeen minutes ago, [Name] wished it had actually happened. She clicked on the tag that led to Lance’s account -- for why, she didn’t know. She didn’t know what she expected to find, but multiple videos of her was not on the list. She clicked on the most recent one, a video taken just the other day. 

“Lance, I’m cold,” [Name] had pouted, tugging on Lance’s hoodie sleeve.

Lance raised his eyebrows, but after seeing [Name]’s wink and playful smile, he knew what she wanted him to say. “Well, damn, [Name], I can’t control the weather!”

After a giggle and a combination of pouty lips and puppy dog eyes up at him, Lance had yanked off his hoodie and given it to [Name] before planting a kiss on her lips.

The bittersweetness of watching the video proved to be more bitter than sweet after [Name] read the caption: week five of making the snobby rich girl fall in love with me before giving her a taste of her own medicine.

Snobby? Her own medicine? Confusion washed over [Name], but it was nothing compared to the heartbreak she felt. She wasn’t in love with Lance by any means, but she had started to genuinely care for him. 

This small heartbreak would take a little time to get over, but there was one person who could make it just a bit more bearable. 

--

To say that there was no privacy between Peter and [Name] would be an understatement. After May had told her that Peter was in his room, she’d walked in without even knocking. Without a word, really, because her heart hurt so much, she didn’t feel like talking. 

“[Name]!” Peter exclaimed, surprised yet happy nonetheless, to see her. “How’d your da--” He didn’t need his Spidey sense to tell him that that question was better left unfinished. 

[Name] went to Peter’s desk where she kept a drawer of the things she’s needed before that she couldn’t snitch from Peter (bras, panties, etc). Been through this routine a million times, Peter turned his back to [Name] as she stepped out of her dress, pulled on a sports bra, and stepped into a pair of his sweatpants. [Name] threw her hair up into a bun, then yanked the scrunchie out and hoped Peter would play with it; that always seemed to put her at ease and content.

After crawling under the covers and wiggling her way into Peter’s arms, [Name] finally mumbled, “He stood me up.” Peter didn’t say anything, just started twirling a lock of her hair. She closed her eyes for a minute, enjoying the moment. “He doesn’t even like me. He put it on his stupid TikTok.”

“Are you serious?” Peter’s temperature was rising; he never liked this guy from the beginning, and him being Flash’s cousin didn’t help his case. 

“Yeah, something about giving me my own medicine?” [Name] picked up Peter’s phone from his chest and went to Lance’s TikTok. “I didn’t even know he had an account, and now there’s all these videos of us being all cute together and his caption is always the same: “week whatever of making the snobby rich girl fall in love with me before giving her a taste of her own medicine”. I don’t even know what that means.”

“Let me see.” [Name] gave Peter his phone and watched him scroll through the videos, even the ones without [Name] in them. “Who records the videos? The ones of you and him?”

“I dunno, I never really paid attention,” [Name] sighed. “I mean, in all those videos, we’re with our friends.”

Peter paused a video [Name] herself had recorded; it was some football TikTok Lance and a couple of his buddies had done. “Who’s this?” Peter asked, pointing to a guy with dyed black hair and one dangly earring. 

“Braxton?” [Name] looked up at Peter. “That’s Lance’s best friend from, like, Kindergarten. Why?”

Peter didn’t answer for a minute; he was concentrating on something. “Do you remember that party your old friend Lorelai threw back in middle school? The one her parents sent her away to some troubled behavior school because they couldn’t keep her under control?”

“She preferred Rory, but yes,” [Name] answered. “Where are you going with this? That I had a lapse in judgement when it came to friends and hung around the wrong crowd during my preteen years?”

“Well, you did, but no,” Peter chuckled; this provoked a small chuckle from [Name] as well, which meant Peter was doing something right. “Remember the kid with the round glasses and freckles and carrot top hair?”

“Yeah,” [Name] furrowed her brows and thought back to that dreadful night. “I didn’t like him, but she knew he liked me, so she forced us to play Seven Minutes in Heaven. I didn’t wanna hurt his feelings so I let him kiss me, but then I dodged him at school and avoided his texts. Oh gods, the rest of that semester was SO awkward and embarrassing.”

“[Name], that’s what Lance is getting you back for,” Peter realized with a heavy sigh. “That kid was Braxton.”

All the color drained from [Name]’s face. She felt like she’d been sucker punched in the gut. Maybe Rory was right; being nice did backfire. 

[Name] didn’t feel like talking anymore. She grabbed her phone and pressed play on her previously made breakup playlist. As the songs spoke the words she felt, [Name] synced her breathing to Peter’s and fell asleep to his heartbeat. 

Not long after [Name] had fallen asleep, her phone rang. Peter picked it up off his stomach and saw that Mr. Stark was calling. Peter’s face burned; Mr. Stark and May both had seen he and [Name] cuddling and sleeping on the same bed or couch or even chair, but when it came to Mr. Stark, Peter still felt as if they were caught doing something they weren’t supposed to be doing--even though they weren’t even together. Not wanting to make Mr. Stark wait even longer, Peter slid his thumb across the screen. “H-Hi, Mr. Stark.”

“Peter. How’s she doing?” At Peter’s scrunched eyebrows, [Name]’s dad elaborated, “May told me she’d come over visibly upset and looking for you. Don’t tell me it was that boy.”

Peter pursed his lips, but there was no sense in being vague; Mr. Stark already knew. “Yes, sir. Apparently he’s been playing her all this time.”

Mr. Stark groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Peter?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Take care of her, will you? And one more thing.”

Peter raised his eyebrows.

“She loves you more than she realizes. Remember that.” And just like that, Mr. Stark was gone. Peter refused to let himself think about Mr. Stark’s last message. He’d morph it into something it wasn’t, and his and [Name]’s whole friendship would be ruined. 

The first thing [Name] noticed when she woke up was that Peter wasn’t there. She rubbed her eyes, which were irritated from crying, and looked around his room. He was nowhere to be found. He was most likely in the bathroom and grabbing a late-night snack, but that didn’t soothe the ache in her heart that always came when Peter wasn’t around. 

[Name] grabbed her phone from the nightstand and checked the time.

Oof. Too bright.

She turned the brightness down. 2:16.

As it always did, the picture of Peter made her smile. They’d done the chubby bunny challenge, and Peter had stuffed so many marshmallows into his mouth, it was impossible for [Name] not to snap a picture. 

The events of last night felt like a faded memory, even the hurt. Peter always managed to do that, somehow, make everything else disappear. Some lucky girl was going to have an amazing husband that would make a wonderful father.

Maybe MJ.

Hopefully [Name] herself.

[Name] dropped her phone. She ignored it as it clattered to the floor. Consciously, she had never thought of Peter as anything but a best friend. But now everything--the way her face lit up when he walked in a room, the tingling down her spine that accompanied Peter’s breath when he whispered in her ear in class, the giddiness in getting ready for their friend dates, even the occasional dreams of them together that she’d refused to acknowledge--all made perfect sense.

Peter walked into the room then, his shower hair now curling in ringlets.

“I love you,” [Name] blurted, before her fight or flight had a chance to stop herself.

Peter’s face warmed as blood rushed up his neck and on his cheeks. He seemed happy for a split second, before he laughed nervously. “Uh, yeah, I love you, too, p-pal.”

[Name] shook her head vigorously. She was filled with so much adrenaline now that she’d have a panic attack if she didn’t release it. “No, not like that, I’m in love with you, Peter. You make the world disappear and there’s only me and you, and every time you put the suit on I lose my shit worrying about you, but then you come in my room every night to assure me that you’re okay, and I’m always thinking about you, and it pains me if I ever think you might not be in my future. You weren’t my first kiss, Peter, but I want you to be my next and the one after that and the one after that until it’s my last. Stark is a very infamous and honestly really cool name, but I don’t want it forever, I don’t want anyone’s name but yours, Peter Parker, and I love you so much it hurts, and I may have only just realized it now but I’ve loved you for so much longer and now that I think about it, you may not even feel the same, and I very well could have just jeopardized our who--”

No longer was Peter standing by his bedroom door. It was closed now, and Peter was hovering over [Name], his hand around her throat. “Do me a favor, baby girl, and stop talking.” He smashed his lips against hers, and when he pulled away, he raked his teeth along her bottom lip.

Peter rested his forehead against [Name]’s, his eyes closed; they were both breathing heavily. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he admitted breathily.

“Then get back here and do it again.” [Name] grabbed a fistful of Peter’s shirt and pulled him back down to her. 

Needless to say, there was not only a meeting of the minds and souls that night, but also the bodies.

tagged: @marvel-lously @k-a-t-h-r-y-n-sbin @lilyholland

[seb-owns-these-tatas]

Fix (Tj Hammond) (Pt.2)

PART 1

Characters: NSFW. Sub!Bi!TJ Hammond x You

Summary: You've went home and was welcomed by a very high TJ who was clean for a year since you've been together. Your boy even did something wrong, resulting to you in reacting very hostile and leading to a hot night considering that he needed to learn his lessons for disobeying you.

Warning: Female oral, nudity, drugs, cusses, PEGGING, Unprotected sex (Don't forgot to cover the willies okay?) Sub/Dom relationship! Suggestive recording of lemon tape (THIS IS SMUT)

Words: 7,596. FEEL THE FILTH! (It is really longer than the the previous part heck!)

A/N: THIS IS NOT SUITABLE FOR VERY YOUNG AUDIENCES. LOOK AWAY, PURE TATER TOT. LOOK AWAY. DON'T SCROLL DOWN IF YOU AREN'T 18 YEARS OLD OR NOT EVEN CONSIDERED LEGAL IN YOUR COUNTRY. I'M GIVING MY ALL IN THIS SHIT! GIVE ME SOME CRAZY FEEDBACKS, Y'ALL! LET’S HOPE THIS POST OF MINE WON’T GET FLAGGED BY TUMBLR. -_-

Disclaimer: GIF'S and PNG'S aren't mine, however the whole one shot and edits are rightfully mine to begin with.

Dedicated: @caps-boo-bear (Still couldn’t tag ya bud!) @angel-of-hell-cece1967​ @anxiousamandapanda​

"--Trust comes with love, and I love you very very much. This means that I trust you either," You gently patted his warm, smooth, broad back. Whispering loving words against his ear, "I just don't want you going back to the life you were used to, I don't want you to get caught up in your drug addictions again, Teej."

Tj couldn't help the small moans that escaped his lips when you were rubbing his back, it felt good. Too good for him to take. The pleasure he felt was travelling inside his pantaloon. What did he just take? He thought to himself when you kept on whispering loving words filling his heart. Ecstacy. He remembered before mentally groaning. That was why he could feel him growing inside his pants even though you were mad at him and he was weeping.

Well, that was really a huge change in his emotions. He was miserable before you have hugged him and now he was horny. "---What did you even take?" You questioned him curiously, lifting his head up and unlatching his fluffy head in between your neck. Your words were completely shut down by Tj before that question erupted.

His hair was currently disheveled, Cerulean eyes turned a shade darker than the usual. Looking all murky and high, "U-Uhm," He stuttered, curling the toes of his feet as he felt all the scorching heat pooling below his stomach. He was turning harder as he was taking in your outfit, his leather jacket, black leather pants, a white v-neck shirt that was too low for his decency to take and a black heeled boots that made him sneak a hand in front of his clothed cock, slyly gripping to give a little relief. Heels. Damn you for wearing those sexy boots of yours, Tj mentally thought at the back of his mind, "Ec-Ecstacy. Yeah, Ecstacy. Two pills. Those were the only ones left inside your not so secret box," He smirked, internally groaning to himself when you threw back the lollipop in your mouth, never missing to palm himself through his tight jeans, his eyes were tempted to shut for a moment when he could feel a tiny relief wash through him, yet he fought off the urge and gnawed on his lip rather harshly.

"How'd you even find it, Teej?!" You exclaimed, sniggering as you couldn't believe him. Suddenly distracted, thinking how he found the box that you totally hid from him out of sight. Your breath hitched when you heard and felt your boyfriend take a subtle step forward, warm fingers wrapped sensually around your wrist. One move from him made your breath hitch. He ripped away the lollipop in your mouth, the mischievous glint in his never going unnoticed when you pondered. "You're acting...weird,"

Tj had a lopsided smile, a smile that looked cunning. You knew that smile, it was those types of smile of his which consists of sweat beneath the sheets, clothes completely off. Oh God. You felt him move closer, if that was even possible. Feeling his hard-on touching your clothed body and you gasped. Eyebrows up skeptically, "ARE YOU SERIOUSLY HARD RIGHT NOW?!" You exclaimed a little too loudly, not believing how hard you could feel he was.

Tj lightheadedly chuckled before you, his glassy, tantalizing cerulean eyes memorizing your face even though he already did. "So hard, Babe." He quietly murmured. The way he said his words seem to slightly turn you on as he continued to open his mouth. He was acting completely seductive and erotic.

It was working, alright.

"Squeeze me, please. I'm so fucking horny right now," Tj licked his lips, your other hand..without the lollipop languidly guiding your hands on his crotch. But, before you could get to palm him through his jeans. You were quick to whisk your hand away and you swore you heard him whimper when you did. He didn't know you actually wanted to do it, but your slightly sober self tells you not to because he was high and not on his right mind.

"No. I am not squeezing you through your jeans! And I will not have sex with you when you're high and shit, Thomas! Didn't I set some rules? Don't you remember?" You warned your baby boy who was pouting in front of you.

 He timidly nodded in understanding, chewing on his bottom lip as his breathing grew deeper. His hungry eyes craved for seeing you in lesser clothes. Tj was acting like he wasn't given his favorite candy when you've tried rejecting him. He was utterly close to stomping his feet like a child because you didn't want to cave in. "I know, I know. But, please just for tonight. I'll get to remember anything, and I'm still in my damn right state of mind. I don't care if you'll punish me..just please, I'll do everything you want! Just fuck me, Y/N. Pleaaaseeee," Tj desperately pleaded, you saw the twinkle in his eyes. Gosh, that was your weakness. He looked damn gorgeous without even trying. So hot and sexy. You can't help but vocally groan out your frustrations. You wanted to give in.

"You're so fucking hot," The hammond boy whispered, stealing the tangerine lollipop in your hand. You watched his movements like a hawk and your baby boy boldly stared back at you, cerulean eyes a shade darker with hunger and love included. He opened those wet, kissable, red lips of his. Voluptously fishing his tongue out before erotically pushing the sweet treat on the pad of his wet tongue, devouring it like what he does with your breasts.

You were downright turned on with that one simple movement. Downright hungry for what he could give. He was naughtily looking at you all through out as he continued ravishing the poor lollipop with his tongue and lips. You can't help but subtly push your thighs close together to relieve the itchy, hungry feeling. An itch that you wanted Tj to relieve so bad.

Tj kept sucking on it loudly like a kid who loved his lolly. Your eyes focusing on the lucky lollipop trapped inside his lips. He mindlessly licked his red, plump lips and swiping the sweet treat around his lips. Thinking about doing something he wanted to since you opened that mouth of yours when you started ranting out your anger a while ago.

"Mmmh!" You weakly palmed his naked chest from the jolt of spark when he immediately wrapped a hand behind your neck, his warm, hot mouth now on yours. Sloppily kissing you with fervor. You wanted this. Gosh, you've been wanting this from the moment you were with your friends. You know the alcohol in your system and your wild hormones wanted it.

So, you had no choice but to flutter your eyes closed. Completely caving in his need and apparently with yours either.

Tj softly bit your lip as you could feel his wet tongue darting out, sliding in for entrance. You wholeheartedly did. Pushing your tongue out to lap with his, both doing the Tango. The kiss was all wet, sloppy and with the need to get the heat starting.

Warm, shallow breaths were shared. Teeth grinding in with each other in a rough manner. You craned your neck higher till you could fully reach Tj's mouth and it became a whole lotta easier for the both of you when you hooked your arm around his neck, tugging him closer and tiptoeing as you desperately pushed your tongue inside his mouth, deepening the kiss. His tongue hitting with yours as he continued kissing you with his expert tongue.

You could feel your hormones running around in a frenzy. It was shocking you that you were as thirsty as the man who just had taken drugs.

And because Tj was a little too sensitive to touches. He had a higher pleasure from desire and physical touches. It was part of the effect of the Ecstacy he took, he had been more vocal than ever and he never did forget to deeply and quietly moan it in your mouth even though you two were only just kissing.

How would it even feel like for him if you both started doing more than just making out?

You could feel his slightly swollen, beet red lips releasing your bottom lip with a gentle tug of his teeth, your lips looking the same way as his. Only a dark shade of lust could be seen in his eyes and a little bit of hue around his diluted baby blue eyes. His eyes appeared to be darker than it used to be, the hunger growing larger and impossible to stop.

"I've been a very...very bad boy," Tj slurred raspily as he dragged out his words, sounding more sensual and hotter. Those quiet words of submission made you whimper, it was such a turn on and he damn knew it. The naughty lopsided smile on his face says so. His warm hand caught your wrist and he eyed your hand in front of him before languidly bringing it close to his parted delicious red lips. Filthy thoughts clouded your mind, you wanted nothing more than his lips beneath your core, desperately lapping for your juices.

"Punish me," You couldn't help the shivers when Tj lightly bit the tip of your index finger, his lust blown eyes peering down at you with a hypnotizing gaze. "I'll do anything..anything you want, Mistress."

The way he said the word 'Mistress' flicked a switch inside of you and in your needy core. Tj began sucking in the tip of your finger with his lip, he began pushing your finger in his mouth, the pad of his tongue resting on the palm of your finger.

His sucking was cut short, your finger halfway in his mouth when you stopped pushing it in. Your eyes completely enamoured by how his sinful lips were working around your finger. You cleared your throat, switching your weight from one foot to the other in excitement then slowly adding another finger in between his lip. Your digits sliding in so warmly, "Anything I want?" You gnaw on your bottom lip, watching how both of your fingers were now inside of his mouth. Debauchingly sliding in and out.

He nodded eagerly, blue eyes staring down at you with such fake innocence. "Will my baby boy like that?" You felt his tongue swirling around your digits. Your mind now completely elsewhere, wetness starting to pool in your heat from Tj's basic ministrations.

Oh, were you lusting so hard for him.

You took your damp fingers out of his lips in a pop, quickly hurling your wet digits in your mouth and eagerly sucking it off like he had done with your fingers. All the while remaining eye contact, and Tj swore he could painfully feel his cock throb beneath his jeans when he watched your fingers go in and out like he imagined it was his hard cock. It was so damn arousing.

Y/N hooked a finger around his necklace, roughly pulling him close to her face. Tj couldn't help but utter a guttural moan when she palmed him through his jeans, giving his hard, trapped cock rough squeezes. Just like how he ought to be touched, she swiftly licked her lips as she eyed him flutter his eyes closed. Y/N dragged her lips across his jaw, pressing soft, open mouthed kisses till she reached his ears, breath fanning and whispering. "I want you to eat me out,"

"Want your mouth on me, Baby.."

He keenly obliged, instantly dropping himself to his knees like the submissive that he is. Gazing up at you with that adorable, hot, dazed glimmer in his blue eyes, "You want to come in my mouth? Will my mistress want that?" Tj purred. His rough, wandering hands slipping in your shirt, fingers lightly swiping through your soft belly pouch till he reached the belt of your jeans in which he hastily unbuckled off then threw in somewhere in the kitchen.

"Baby boy's so needy and eager.." You peered down at him, watching his movement very closely. Chewing on your bottom lip, raking your hand in his soft, fluffy hair. He looked up at you, as he subtly popped the button of your jeans, zipping it down in haste. "So damn horny,"

Tj tugged at your jeans and slipped it off you in one tug, you lifted your feet to help him rip the damn clothing off your body when you realized your boots were still on. "Oh, I forgot to take my boots off--"

"Leave it." He softly demanded, throwing your jeans away, hearing a sound that made you know it hit a cubboard. You raised a brow, and he glanced to see you questioning him why. "Please," He softly pleaded, fingers hooking in the waistband of your black seamless underwear, Tj was admiring your face, staring you up beneath his eyelashes, "Want you naked with just those," Oh, was it one of his fetishes.

Your panties were off in one go, yet this time. That one tiny clothing of yours weren't thrown away. Tj slyly kept it in the pocket of his jeans, smirking beneath you once he did. His warm, grabby hands landed on your soft, silky thighs that had temporary indentations from the jeans you wore. Lines were indented on your smooth thighs and legs. He traced those with his feather-like fingers. His eyes following where his fingers trailed upon, completely dazed.

Until his hands ended on place where it was inevitable to be touched. Tj's middle finger slid in between your moisty folds, checking how wet you are and he gave out a satisfied moan when he felt how wet you are. Wet, but still not enough.

He watched how you roughly bit your bottom lip when his finger swiped your wetness, eyes fluttering closed when he searched for that tiny bud that gave your body intense pleasure. Tj began circling your clit, locking his eyes at your pleasured face. Eyes closed, lips parted with shallow breaths coming out of your mouth.

Your face was completely erotic. It was making his cock harder, if that was even possible.

The soft, delicate moans that came out of your mouth was enough to make Tj blow his mind. He was gently circling your clit, spreading your wetness around your labia, yet it still wasn't enough. He wanted to see you fully, face to face with your heat. He wanted your sweet, addictive juices in his mouth.

Tj took one of your leg, hooking it around his shoulder and he was quickly met with your wet folds. Your sweet sleek glistening against the kitchen's lights, and it was like he had seen his favorite candy because of how the dark pupil of his eyes turned larger, his eyes darkening more. "Oh, God.." He moaned, his thumb and index finger spreading your folds, seeing and feeling your wetness. All of it was for him to take and dive in. "This all for me?"

You only uttered a very lewd moan that made him quickly nose dived in your heat. Another moan escaped your parted lips, louder than the ones you've been moaning out. The way you tug on his hair was much more rougher when he flicked his tongue against your clit. Squirming against his hold, your other hand landing on the kitchen island that was behind you. You let out a loud cry when he circled his tongue against your swollen clit, lips sucking around your swollen bud. Your heart was beating a thousand times faster, and Tj was feeling more heady and euphoric once he got to taste your sweet juices.

"T-Tj," Your soul felt like it was being sucked in another planet. He moaned against you, feeling satisfied from your saccharine taste that he have been dying to taste. More. He wanted more. He immediately darted his sinful tongue inside your sleek entrance, his pointy nose rubbing with your aching bud. You pushed his head deeper, roughly tugging at his dark roots as you shifted your leg around his shoulders. Opening your legs more for him to dulge in to.

You took a glimpse of Tj's pretty face, and your mind was in a bliss. He looked completely enticing and in deep pleasure. His eyes were closed, seeming to be in another state of mind as you see his tongue darting in and out of your heat and that couldn't help but trigger you to the brink of your orgasm.

You could feel your lower abdomen tighten in a warm knot, Tj grabbed a handful of your mound, squishing your derriere on his palm, pushing you closer against his mouth as your eyes lulled back. All you had to do was lock him in between your legs, but your mischievous self had to stop your high and wound him away, tugging Tj up as you tug on his necklace till he was towering before you.

"Why'd you made me stop?" He aggravatingly spat, his lips were glistening from your juices. Mind all heady, eyes completely looking high and lips all bruised and swollen.

You gave a lopsided smile, fluttering your eyelashes up at him as you locked him hypnotized, "You've been a good boy, sweetheart."

"But now, I just want to cum around your cock," His chest vibrated as he uttered a very animalistic moan. You took his leather jacket off and Tj did his best to help you take your shirt off even though his movements were disoriented.

He mumbled a very low whimper, seeing you stark naked in front of him was making his cock ache against his jeans, in the midst of thinking about how to make him suffer less. Tj unbuckled his belt, and to make everything faster so he could stand bare..You hurriedly popped the buttons of his jeans and began helping him.

"Fuck me from behind," You stated breathless. A satisfied moan came out of you when his swollen, fat cock sprung out, the swollen, pinkish head hitting his pelvis and he couldn't help but groan from feeling free.

The look he was giving you was untamed and wild, so raunchy. You pulled at his necklace, bringing his face close until you captured his lips in a sloppy, bruising kiss full of ardor. You were craving for him and he was craving for you.

You nibbled at his swollen, bottom lip. Tj's eyes were heavy lidded and lust-filled. Your teeth gave his lower lip a hard pull, with your hand gripping around the base of his hard, veiny cock. He shut his eyes closed when you began stroking his cock, giving a few tight pumps, feeling the angry veins on the palm of your hands. "Ugh," You heard Tj emit a carnal, short moan. It sounded so good in your ears and it made you gnaw on your bottom lip, watching Tj's face twisting in utmost pleasure.

His cock was pulsing, every once in a while with every stroke given to his cock, his breath was hitching. The fingers clawing on your hip gripping tighter with every twist of your wrist. Drips of pre-cum oozing out. Automatically, your thumb swiped the pre-cum off. You watched the way your hand moved around his cock and Tj was eyeing your movements. Gaping at how you could pleasure him in the right damn ways.

Bringing your cum-filled thumb to your lips, you sucked your thumb, tasting his pre-cum and you couldn't help but hum in satisfaction, closing your eyes and showing your baby boy how delicious he tasted, making Tj whimper from how utterly erotic you looked. He tasted so salty and sweet. You popped your thumb out of your mouth, batting your eyelashes up at your baby boy. "Baby boy wants a suck?"

He still seemed to be hypnotized for a second, before you see him purse his lips as he thought, caressing your bare hip bone and with no hesitation, he shook his head. "I want in," Tj rasped with gritted teeth, before rushing to spin you around. Your heart pounded against your chest in excitement, he bent you over against the kitchen island, feeling his hand resting on the small of your back. You could feel his eyes raking you over, memorizing every detail of your flawed, but perfect body that was bent before him.

Your cunt was throbbing and aching for his cock. You heard him hum and felt his naughty, sensual hand lightly tracing your spine, his fingers lightly trailing the bone on your back, travelling lower and lower till his other hand rested on your hip, keeping you steady in place.

Your body shivered as he pressed open-mouthed kisses on your naked back. Never forgetting to give them a suck to leave a mark, releasing your skin with a lick of his tongue to soothe the fresh, new hickeys. Your eyes immediately fluttered close when he reached your neck and you couldn't help but crane your neck further for him to have more skin to kiss and suck.

A cold, metal string was laying cold on your back, in opposite of your flushed, burning skin. It was distracting your senses, thinking about how hot Tj was. All naked with only his beloved necklace, looking stoned and with one thing in his mind. To fuck you till you were spent.

Tj grabbed onto your hip rather tightly, his fingers probably leaving a mark from how tight he was gripping on your waist. His other hand gripped the base of his cock and he pulled your hip higher, jerking you upward. Half of your body resting on top of the kitchen island, proppeling on your tiptoes as he lined his swollen head on your wet entrance. Your elbows were propped on the smooth surface, trying to bend lower as you bit on your bottom lip so hard just waiting for yourself to get fucked till you could see stars.

Your eyes could see Tj's phone resting on the edge of the kitchen island and with a naughty, mischievous plan in mind seeking for vengeance, you quickly snatched and took his phone in your hand. Tj paid no mind and continued his ministrations, feeling the head of his cock finally pushing slowly in your swollen, dripping, needy core.

Inch by inch his cock was in, and you couldn't help but tightly hold onto his phone and moan out the pleasure once he was halfway inside, uttering out a louder moan when his hips gave a sharp thrust to push himself fully into you, stopping once he was settled and pulsing around your walls.

You squeezed him and it made Tj utter a low growl. Your eyes were tempted to flutter closed, but your plans made you not to as you looked beneath your eyelashes and dialed in a number that wasn't in his contacts anymore. A number whom you memorized in case he decides to plan and gatecrash into your steady relationship, wanting to gain something from your baby boy.

Tj's fingers travelled towards the other side of your hip, bracing himself as he could finally fuck you till your last breath. The call began ringing, and so does Tj's hips began thrusting in and out in an intense pace. Your body jerked against the kitchen island everytime his pelvis hits your derriere with every move of his hips.

"Tj?" The man on the other side of the line rasped with a chuckle. Your furrowed brows became more wrinkled when you heard that awful voice that reminded you of awful things. Your fingers began to loosen around the phone while Tj quickened his pace. Slowly pulling out his cock, before pushing in again and again. Feeling his lips on your neck, he gave open mouthed kisses and continued pumping in and out of you. His breath giving a pornographic hitch of his breath, emitting a breathy moan everytime he fully pulls out of you and slickly pushes in your throbbing walls with sharp pushes.

"A-Ahh," You moaned on the phone, your mouth ajar and your only focus was Tj's cock slipping in and out of you, deeper than before as he continuously fucked you from behind. You hitched a breath when you felt his hand snake around you, travelling towards your rub deprived clit and felt his fingers rubbing hard on it, erupting a very erotic moan out of you. "Fuuuck, Tj!"

"What the hell?" Sean loudly spoke from the phone, hardly believing what he was hearing. "Ugh, fuck! Yes!" Tj groaned out loud, his lust-filled eyes watching where your bodies connected, his cock disappearing inside your cunt which was utterly wet from your juices. His mouth hung open from the pleasure he was feeling. It was too good. So good. Your walls clenched around him, feeling the familiar throb forming in between your legs. Earning a very loud sensual moan from Thomas made Sean brows raise in animosity.

"Did you seriously just called to make me hear your very unattractive audio porn with some bitch?"

You ignored the whiny, petty congressman in line and concentrated how Tj was fucking you so good. His hips decided to shift in a different angle, and it was a very good angle for you because it made you feel good as the pleasure began building up a thousand times better. "Tj, right there baby! S-so so goooood," You moaned louder, Tj was hitting a special spot and it was making you cum faster than normal. He continued hitting your g-spot, never forgetting to slip a hand under you to grab at your boobs, fondling with the softness and roundness of it while his other hand was still on your clit, rubbing harsh circles. The whole kitchen was filled with loud, perceptible moans, a lot of filthy skin slapping and the slick sounds while he abuses your sex.

You knew you were close when you squeezed around his cock and so was Tj. His moans became more audible inside the apartment, hearing his breath hitching every now and then. Tj felt his balls tighten as he continued fucking you from behind, his abdominal muscles tightening as he was finally feeling the knot.

"I--I can't hold it in anymore," Tj murmured after emitting a very hot groan. "O-Oh my God," He breathed in between his moans, the air harshly coming out of his nose as he breathed deep, his thrusts becoming sloppy. "I'm coming, Y/N. I fucking hope you are too,"

"I-I'm coming, baby. Cum with me," You whispered harshly, moan after moan. Your legs were shaking, and so does Tj's hips. He tightened his jaw, feeling the orgasm coming close. "Y-Your pussy feels fucking heaven, Y/N! Fuck!"

He never stopped circling your clit, deliciously thrusting his hips against your pussy and in one pinch you've finally reached your high. You tightly squeezed around him, triggering him into shooting his load inside of you. Tj came, uttering a breathy groan when he spurted all his cum, milking your walls.

Your moan died down very slowly, feeling his warm load inside of you was to die for, even had it dripping out of you. It was worth enough to turn you crazy. You blinked, slowly opening your eyes. Trying to relieve from the very blissful feeling of being fucked by Tj Hammond. Your legs felt jello, and Tj had to support your waist. His hands going straight towards it as he gently held you in his arms.

"You fucker should know not to mess with Tj's feelings, especially when you're the fucking bastard who ruined his damn life," You hissed on the other line, breath undeniably labored and Tj was blinking down at you, his mind completely out of this world and appearing to recover from his post-coital bliss. "Sayonara, Fucker. Go fuck yourself with that audio porn," You ended the call in one push of a button. Damn it, Sean Reeves was ruining your damn night.

Tj spun you around, leaning your back against the kitchen island. His eyes all soft, sweet and dazed. He stared at your face like you're the only woman he cherishes besides his mother of course. "Was that Sean?"

You nodded, palms going straight to his face as you reached up to skim your fingers on his jaw. He gave a small, tight smile, "Why'd you call him?"

Only a shrug was given to his question, your face seeming to regret the call you made to a very well known congressman. God, you were an impulsive one. What if he had recorded everything in his phone? You even moaned Tj's name out loud for Christ's sake. That would be a great headline for some news article. 'Y/N Y/L/N have accidentally/or not leaked her audio porn with Tj Hammond via phone to Sean Reeves for the sake of revenge,' It definitely didn't sound too good with all the press involved. "I dunno, Teej. I actually wanted a video call, not a very lame audio porn. Sike."

Tj's face looked so precious when he laughed, his eyes all crinkly as he deeply chuckled, feeling his palms glide on your sides, just feeling you. "You're one kinky shit, Y/N."

"I know, baby. I know." You uttered, your sneaky hand trailing down his torso and Tj felt every inch of it because the ecstacy was still in his system and your touches immediately went straight to his cock. His eyebrow shot up when he felt your fingers travelling towards his pelvis, tracing his deep hip indents that you so love to lick on. "You've been a very...very good boy, Tj." You purred, biting your lower lip while you watch your hand travel down till you reached his semi-hard dick. Your baby boy deserves all the love in the world, and definitely a mindblowing fuck. "You still got another one in ya'? I'm still kinda horny, Babe."

"Mmmmh," He fluttered his eyes closed, moaning against his throat when he felt your dirty, sneaky fingers fondling with his ballsac, giving him gentle squeezes. "Feels good, baby?" Your fingers began to wrap around his cock once again, and his breath gave out a very shocking hitch. "I-I'm still so...so sensitive, Mistress." He softly whispered, his breath still hitching when your finger trailed the bulging vein laying under his cock.

You acted like you were thinking deeply for a moment, cocking your head to the side as your hand was still glued to his dick. "I think you deserve a gift, Love."

With that been said, his eyes quickly snapped opened as he concentrated on you, completely confused. "You're definitely going to like it, I can tell." The shine in your eyes meant you were anticipating for this exact moment, and Tj smiled, still stoned from the Ecstacy and post coital bliss. He nodded even though he had no idea what you had in mind.

Tj didn't actually thought he was gonna get fucked in the ass by you. He remembered he had told the idea that being fucked with a strap would be such a turn on, yet he didn't think you would eventually take it to mind since you just gave a small hum in response.

He didn't thought you would even buy one, a dildo strap just for him? How lucky can he be?

"I honestly thought we're gonna have vanilla sex or something, I was so ready for that to be honest," Tj pondered as he was on all fours on top of your king sized bed. He looked behind his shoulders and saw you fixing the straps around your hips. The sounds making his cock twitch, his heart fastening its pace because of the excitement.

"Vanilla sex is for wimps," You muttered, genuinely distracted by the blue silicon dildo hanging over the top of your vagina, totally unphased by the image of you having a fake dick. "Stop acting like you're not liking every minute of this, Thomas. I can see your dick getting hard and I'm not even touching you yet,"

"Is it, really? That didn't stop you from moaning hard the other night--Ugh, fuck.." Tj couldn't help but shut his mouth and bit his lips when he felt you spreading his cheeks apart. His eyes instantly closed shut when he felt you dropping a lot of lube on his muscled hole, the cold liquid giving him a satisfying shiver. He tried prying his eyes open, giving you a short glimpse and seeing you concentrated and focused on massaging his hole with your middle finger, spreading the lubricant before inserting your finger inch by inch.

"Wow, that shut you up." You muttered as your finger was slowly pumping in and out of his ass. "I was about to back out because this silicon dick is distracting me and I look hilarious with it, but seeing you submit to me is actually pretty hot, Teej."

You added another finger, stretching him up before you get to the good part. Tj couldn't help but choke in his own moans, it was so damn hot. "Feels good, baby boy?"

Tj uttered a frustrated groan, and he nodded before fisting his own hand on top of the mattress. When you realize that he was finally prepped up..well, a little bit prepped up. You grabbed the goods, adding some more lube on your strap on. "Damn it," You muttered, feeling all hot and bothered from everything that's happening. "You owe me another orgasm," Tj set his lips in a straight line, the silence from him was worrying you but you knew he was stopping himself from just moaning out loud. His brows furrowed while he waits for the pleasurable moment as he grips on the sheets.

"On second thought," You teased his entrance with the bulbous head. His cock was harder than a rock, it was standing tall and proud beneath him. "I'm riding your face instead, deal?" Tj let his mouth fall, his eyes slowly fluttering closed as he could feel you filling him up inch by inch. He let out a sigh as you go deeper and deeper inside. It felt too good.

"Do I get myself a deal?" Your hips stopped till you reached the brink, still letting him get used the feeling . Tj was breathing deep and hard, and you weren't even starting yet. The whole thing was arousing you, it was totally making you wet. Yet, tonight was about Tj, the gift was about making Tj feel good and better because he deserves it. Your Tj deserves everything in the world, and you were about to give it to him.

You lightly trailed your fingers on Tj's back, taking your sweet time as you teased, "Will you let me ride your pretty, sweet face, baby boy?" Tj choked up on his own saliva, his focus completely on the fact that he was filled and utterly loved. "I-I'll let you fuck my face, mistress..Ask me anything and I'll give you everything you want..just...ugh, Oh God, yes.." He deeply moaned, slightly trying to move his naughty hips to relieve himself and you gave his ass a light slap in which he took it better than you expected. You didn't want to hurt him, he was your precious little boy after all. He froze and tried his best not to move. "Y/N, Just fuck me already," Your baby boy groaned in the back of his throat in a frustrated manner, changing from submissive to a dominant, eager man. You couldn't help but slightly laugh from your impatient boyfriend.

"Such a good boy for me," You gave his back upper spine a light kiss before experimentally rocking your hips. This was all new to you, everything you have never experienced. Tj's breath hitched at the back of his throat when you've began to set a pace, adding more speed to your thrusts. Were you even doing everything right?

"A-Am I doing it right, Tj?" Your voice changed into the weaker side, grabbing onto his perfect bicep, never forgetting to give it a sweet caress to check how he was doing and he only quivered when you hit a spot. "Does it make you feel good?" Only Tj did was nod sharply, clawing at your wrinkled white sheets. "Y-You're doing great, Y/N! S-so great! A-Ahh, Y-Yes!" He choked up before uttering a loud moan that sounded so divine when your hips kept up a faster pace, colliding with his hips as you reached to the brink in delicious repetition.

Tj was already in heaven.

It felt more like heaven when you decided to reach his hardened cock beneath him, tightly stroking his aching cock with your fist, spreading his pre-cum all over his swollen, pinkish head while pushing in and out of him with no difficulty. The sounds coming from the both of you was heavenly, slick sounds that was making you wetter, keeping the both of you wet and never intending to stop.

You slowly pulled out till the tip before pushing back in with the same pace, it made Tj groan, making his thighs shake while you began to pick up the pace again, your breath coming out of you with huge puffs.

"I can tell your balls are beginning to tighten," You muttered when his cock twitched in your hand, quickly sneaking to grab and play his balls. Tj desperately wanted to come undone , and he was a man with a plan, he began to push his hips back to meet with yours, and every thrust from you was ten times better because it was a lot deeper, hitting that special spot inside that made his cock twitch again. "You coming now, babe?"

"C-Coming! I'm c-coming!" His voice turned a lot higher than he expected to, you nodded to yourself and grabbed onto his hips, your other hand twisting the base of his dick with your wrist and he could feel the knot coming, Tj could feel his abdomen tightening, the muscled hole even squeezing the dildo up inside of him. "Yes! yes! yes!"

With just one last push, he came undone. His lips totally ajar, breath coming out of his mouth harshly, breathing out balls of air as sweat formed all around your bodies, your faces turning a lot more reddish from all the physical activities that happened tonight. Tj spurted out his load on your sheets, staining your newly changed bed sheet.

You leaned back down to reach for his face, your hand gripping his clammy jaw, mindlessly telling him you needed a kiss after that exhausting activity. He wholly gave you his face, his soul felt like it was given another set of life. If you wanted kisses, then he'll give you more than that. After all what you did to him? you deserved more than just kisses. However, your frame couldn't even reach his face and it made you groan out a curse. "I can't fucking reach to kiss you," you muttered, sighing before slowly pulling the strap out of him.

He was quick to fall flat on your bed, entirely exhausted from your very eventful day. You were quickly cleaning everything off, putting it back to where it belonged. Your knees feeling jello and weak from the sex but you were lucky you could still stand. "You just basically laid on your cum, Thomas. Gross." You joked as you stood beside him, keeping the strap on inside your bed side table, checking if he was still alive and breathing.

Tj was sprawled naked and sweaty on the bed and gave zero fucks. Your eyebrows began to knot together, prompting your knee on his side of the bed as you worriedly check his stilled body. "Tj?"

You shrieked when he suddenly grabbed you by the hips, tackling you down on the mattress, your messy, sex hair all over your face and you couldn't help but giggle out loud despite that you were clearly worn out. "TJ!"

"It's not like you don't swallow every bit of it when you do," He chuckled, having no energy to hover above you as he used his elbow to stare at your face in delight. Tj was smiling, only smiling and you could see how his gorgeous Cerulean eyes was shining beneath the moonlight, there was finally the shine that his family wanted to see from him. The light in his eyes when he was still a little boy in the white house and you were lucky to have the privilege to see it all the time he stares at you.

"W-what?" You stuttered, downright flushing from how he was staring at your face. Tj grabbed your face and leaned down to lock his lips with yours, even locking your hearts together and as one. You lightly kissed him back, pouring all your love for each other before stopping to take a breather.

Tj leaned his forehead with yours, his breath hitting your swollen lips. "I love you very much, it's surprising me how I learned to love you. Here I thought I was fully gay," He chuckled deeply, his voice knocking his sweaty chest. "Then you came along and molded me into becoming someone better, a much happier and contented version of myself,"

"I love you more than you do, Teej. I'm lucky to have you all to myself, call me selfish but..You're mine,"

"I'm yours, Y/N. All yours. Not any man could get me away from you," Tj whispered, a hot lopsided smile lifting his lip up which made you raise a brow. "Unless, if he's hot and has a big dick then.." He dragged, his mischievous smile turning wider when he saw how your face fall from his previous sentence.

"Choose, Teej. A big dick or this pussy?" You raised a sassy brow, gesturing down below and groaned playfully, laughter erupting inside the whole room. "That isn't fucking fair! I'm choosing both!" He whimpered and joked. "I'm kidding. I could always take up that neon blue silicon dick even though, you looked entertaining wearing that strap-on,"

"Well, You're doomed anyways." You fake a sigh, lightly tapping his cheek with your palm, giving him another sweet peck on the lips.

Tj's brows cinched together, pure confusion written in his eyes. "Why?"

"I've got blackmail, you got no other choice than to be with me forever," You slowly sat on the bed, taking a glimpse on your white vanity dresser, where a phone has been standing there all night long. "I caught everything on record," Your heart raced, completely thrilled at the fact that you were recording the whole thing in your phone. "Porn tape, check. It was part of my wish list, don't judge me Teej."

Tj uttered a quiet hum, his sneaky, naughty hand travelling towards your breasts, his fingers flicking with the nipple while he mindlessly thought out loud, completely enthralled by your boobs. "Okay, I won't." His face moved to kiss the tops of your breasts, and you couldn't help but lick your lips as you watch him start his spell on you.

"But, you gotta let me watch it first," He pressed open mouthed kisses on your breasts, his tongue slowly licking that path between your mounds and he lifted his naughty, mischievous messy head of his.

"Or maybe another video would be great?"

WHOO! WAS IT HOT IN HERE OR WHAT? You know you love me and my imagination!

XOXO, 

TATA

[creative-type]

wake from death (and return to life) iv

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22564141/chapters/53920291

Previous: https://creative-type.tumblr.com/post/621667466339385344/wake-from-death-and-return-to-life-chapter-iii

.

Kuina spent the next three days learning her way around Belo Betty’s ship. As promised, Dragon soon departed, disappearing like a mirage on a hot day, gone as if he’d never existed. He had been the one person who seemed to actually wanted Kuina on board, and with him gone Kuina felt quite alone. She spent her days doing what Lyudmila told her to do, when she told her to do them, fulfilling the obligation she had to the Revolution for getting her out of Loguetown and hoping it was enough to keep them from throwing her headfirst into the sea.

Practically speaking, that meant doing dozens of chores while Revolutionaries showed her the ropes. Literally. Kuina spent much of her time cleaning what needed to be cleaned, hauling what needed to be hauled, and mending what needed to be mended while learning the basics of sailcraft. Darareaksmey in particular seemed to take great delight in mocking Kuina’s ignorance, which according to the other crew meant she liked her.

The work was a welcome distraction, reminding Kuina of the menial chores she used to do around the dojo before she was old enough to learn the sword. And more importantly, the people around her liked to talk. The Revolution never openly discussed their plans when she was around, but Kuina was such a silent fixture that they seemed to forget when she was in the background swabbing the deck, or washing dishes, or whatever other odd job she’d been assigned at that moment.

What she learned was illuminating. Belo Betty wasn’t just some Revolutionary nobody—she was in command of the entire East Blue. The ship Kuina was currently on was hers, Dragon somehow able to manage travel by himself from the Grand Line for a mission of strategic importance.

Aria de Gris was another leader, but of only a single ship that had been damaged in the previous battle. She and a portion of her crew had joined with Betty to see Dragon back to the Grand Line and talk strategy. Dragon had never planned to return with them to the battlefield, his departure interrupted by Kuina’s sudden appearance.

It was childish, but Kuina bitterly wished he would have just taken her with her. She could feel Zoro’s lead stretching by the second, and the thought of falling even further behind made her want to pull her hair out.

The Army wasn’t even going to let her fight.

“Better,” Dara said as she inspected the rope she’d given for Kuina to practice her sailor’s knots. “This one almost looks like it’d hold together during an East Blue squall.”

If she was nervous about their nearing destination, she didn’t show it. With quick, nimble fingers she undid Kuina’s handiwork and returned the rope. “Now do it faster.”

Kuina grudgingly did as she was told. The noonday sun beat down overhead, cooled by a delicious sea breeze. After three days Kuina was almost used to the sway of the ship, but didn’t think she could ever feel comfortable surrounded by so many people crammed in such a small space. “I don’t know why you bother. I’ll be gone in a few days.” Kuina said.

“Pfft, you wouldn’t last a week on the Grand Line in your state,” Dara said. “You’re lucky you’re a quick study—it took Lizard three times as long to get half as good as you are now.”

“I can hear you,” Elizabeth said irritably as she passed out rations to Kuina and the women minding her. The galley had been made into a makeshift war room debating last-minute preparations for landing later that day, with Lyudmila given strict instructions to shoot Kuina if she went within twenty feet of its doors.

“I know,” Dara said breezily. “That’s why I said it.”

Elizabeth made a rude gesture that only made Dara laugh. Scowling, Elizabeth asked, “What are you even doing out here? Shouldn’t you be in the meeting? It sounded important.”

“Boss knows I don’t have the patience for that kind of stuff,” Dara said. “She’ll let me know what I need to know. This is much more amusing.” She turned her attention to Kuina. “Watch out, you’re tying it backwards again.”

Kuina gave it another attempt. “Where are we even going?”

Elizabeth and Dara exchanged looks before turning to Lyudmila, awaiting her judgement. Kuina held her breath, giving up on even the pretext of industry. Of everything she’d overheard, no one had breathed a word of their ultimate destination, let alone any details about the supposed war that was being waged there. The veritable brick wall only whetted Kuina’s curiosity.

Sometimes she regretted not reading the paper.

“You can’t keep it from me forever,” Kuina pointed out. “Is it Tolouse?”

Elizabeth let out a huff and turned away, giving a sarcastic wave as she walked back to the galley. “I’m not getting into trouble for this.”

“Coward!” Dara called before grinning at Kuina. “How’d you figure it out?”

“Been headed dead east for three days. There aren’t that many islands it could be,” Kuina said. She shrugged, picking at the ropes. “Besides, you hear a lot of interesting things from the pirates who come from that way. The king doesn’t seem all that popular—easy to stir up trouble there.”

“You’re half-right,” Dara said.

“Dara…” Lyudmila said in a warning tone.

“Fine, fine,” she said, flopping dramatically on her back, hands tucked behind her head. “The big fight’s over anyway. This is just a pitstop.”

“To switch ships?” Kuina said, glancing at Lyudmila. As always, it was difficult to guess what she was thinking, but she made no further effort to censure their conversation.

“And gather the rest of our crew, yeah,” Dara said. “Then we’re getting the hell out of this backwater and going back to where we belong. East Blue is bor-ing. Don’t know why Boss was so interested in coming, to be honest.”

There was a pause, and Dara turned over to her stomach, propping her head up on her hands. Her eyes flickered to Lyudmila, who shook her head slightly. She sighed. “Haven’t had a decent fight in weeks.”

“You just came from a war,” Kuina said, nonplussed.

“An East Blue war,” Dara corrected. “And thus one that was very boring. Everyone knows East Blue isn’t worth anything in a fight.”

Kuina smirked. “Maybe you haven’t been fighting the right people.”

The glint in Dara’s eyes turned wicked. “Sweetheart, I like you. In fact, I think you’re hilarious. But you underestimate the strength of the Grand Line, and it’s going to get you killed if you’re not careful.”

“Maybe, but all I’ve heard is a lot of talk without anything to back it up,” Kuina said.

“That’s bait,” Dara said, grinning, “and I’ll not bite—Oh hello there, Boss. How’s tricks?”

Kuina didn’t jump, but her hand did move instinctively to her katana as de Gris exited the galley, breaking away from a cluster of Revolutionaries exiting the war room to approach them. She acknowledged Dara’s greeting with a nod. “The situation’s changed.”

Lyudmila went very still, while Dara and Kuina exchanged confused looks. “How do you mean, Boss?” Dara asked.

“Reinforcements arrived before the Revolution could completely secure their defenses. They punched a hole through our line and recaptured the armory, jammed communications, the works. We’re lucky Trini was able to get a message through at all. It sounds like the situation’s hot and not in our favor.”

“What?!” Dara exclaimed. “We had the city completely taken! Their king was in chains.”

“Not anymore,” de Gris said.

Dara jumped to her feet. “What about the rest of the crew?”

“As far as I know they’re fine, but we’re going to need all hands on deck if we’re going to scrape out a win.” She looked down at Kuina, the scar running down her cheek pulling her mouth into an unhappy grimace. “Alright, Swordsman. Time for you to put your money where your mouth is.”

Far above them, the Revolutionary flag snapped proudly in the wind. Eyes narrowed with suspicion, Kuina tried to discern the older woman’s intentions. “You’re going to let me fight?”

“I need to make sure you’re good enough to not die. Big difference.” With a whisper of steel, de Gris unsheathed her sword. “Prove to me there’s some bite behind all that bark.”

Beside her, Dara paled. “Boss, you can’t be serious…”

“It’s just a skill check. I need to know what level she’s at, and this is the easiest way to do it.”

They didn’t think she could win. Kuina threw the rope she’d been working on aside and climbed to her feet. Bowing slightly to de Gris, she said, “I’m honored to accept your challenge.”

“What are you, some kind of samurai?” de Gris paused to fish out a cigarette, putting it to her lips and lighting it one-handed. “You have till I finish this to show—”

In a flash her blade was up to meet Kuina’s. Even holding it one-handed, de Gris was able to effortlessly stop the full weight of Kuina’s blow. Dara and Lyudmila scattered as a cat’s grin stretched across de Gris’ face, smoke curling from the end of her cigarette. “Not bad, not bad at all. And here I thought you were nothing but dojo trash.”

She pushed Kuina back, and for a moment the two circled one another, each trying to get a measure of their opponent. Kuina was vaguely aware that they had attracted the attention of the rest of the Revolution, and saw Lyudmila whispering fiercely in the ear of Belo Betty.

“Eyes on me, kid!” de Gris shouted before exploding in a flurry of strikes. Her movements were unlike anything Kuina had ever seen. With impossible quickness she closed the distance between them. Her footwork, the angles she used to attack, were all new and unfamiliar. Kuina, used to fighting against sabers and katanas, was quickly driven to the defensive, each reaction a heartbeat too slow to do anything else as she tried to process the foreign fighting style.

De Gris moved with liquid grace, reminding Kuina more of a dancer than a swordsman as she fought. Each step was economical and precise, her blade flashing from every angle, seemingly simultaneously. Kuina was forced to take a step back, then another, but was quickly running out of room to retreat.

But even as she was being driven back, Kuina began to sense the pattern in her steps, the method to her mad dance. The rapier a piercing weapon. It depended on thrusts and parries over slashing attacks. The blade didn’t have the mass to manage a single, crushing blow, relying instead on speed and precision.

Well then. It was time to disrupt de Gris’ timing.

Kuina feinted a forward thrust, and in the half-second it took de Gris to defend jumped backward onto the ship’s railing. A ripple of surprise rose through the crowd as she ran across the iron rails until she reached the middle of the ship, leaping toward the boom of the foremast.

“Very impressive, if you’re a monkey,” de Gris called. “But I thought you were going to fight—”

But Kuina didn’t stop. She caught an unsecured line and used her momentum to swing behind de Gris, aiming an attack at her exposed back. As expected, de Gris was able to evade with ease, and the bones in Kuina’s arms jolted with the force of her blade cutting through the deck before somersaulting back to her feet.

“You don’t like giving people time to talk, do you,” de Gris said. “And you do realize we have to actually sail on this ship, right?”

“Send me a bill,” Kuina said, grinning wildly. She pulled her sword from the wood in time to deflect de Gris’ rapier, melting from defense to offense as she tried to use their reversed positions to force de Gris into the same limited space she had just escaped from.

It was damnably difficult. De Gris wasn’t the strongest opponent Kuina had faced, but she was the most technically proficient. It had been years since Kuina had needed this level of focus in a fight, and she could feel the rust in her movements.

Without even realizing it, she’d let herself grow complacent, and de Gris was exposing that weakness now.

All the more reason to get to the Grand Line as soon as possible. The East Blue had nothing more to offer her. On the world stage it was nothing, which meant she was nothing...

Blood roared in Kuina’s ears as she failed to get anywhere near de Gris. Kuina took greater risks, forced her body to move all the faster to match her opponent’s feline grace. De Gris’s thin, weightless blade was no match to Shimotsuki steel, and Kuina put the full weight of her rage behind each attack.

Somewhere in the back of her mind she registered a flicker of surprise in de Gris’s eyes a moment before Kuina’s blade clashed against her own. With a quick flick of the wrist Kuina batted it aside, just as de Gris had done at the start of her fight, using her own momentum against her to gain inside position.

Kuina attacked without thinking, and she was lucky de Gris was as fast as she was. Her blade passed by the tip of her nose by a hairbreadth, slicing what was left of her cigarette down to the pale orange filter.

The silence couldn’t have lasted for more than a moment, but it felt like it captured an eternity. De Gris’s eyes followed the path of the still-burning cigarette now rolling down at their feet. She sighed, sheathing her sword and said, almost to herself, “Is that all?”

“What do you mean?” Kuina demanded. “Clearly I—”

“You had until the cigarette was gone to show what you were made of. Well, time’s up. This fight is over.”

“You’re just scared because I was winning,” Kuina said.

The words struck a nerve. A muscle in de Gris’s jaw twitched and her nostrils flared slightly as the air around her shifted, circling like the winds of a hurricane with de Gris as its malevolent eye. Kuina shifted back into a defensive stance, keeping half an eye on Belo Betty. The Revolutionary commander had her arms crossed over her chest, flag nowhere in sight.

“You really thought you had a chance,’ de Gris said. “You couldn’t feel the distance between us.” She shook her head in disgust. “And you call yourself a swordsman.”

She reached for another cigarette, paused to take a deep drag. When she finally looked at Kuina, she saw nothing but contempt.

“Hit me with your best shot, kid,” Aria de Gris said, raising her sword in languid challenge. “I’ll show you how much you have yet to learn.”

Kuina’s grip on her sword tightened. The blood boiling in her veins had calmed enough for her to realize she’d said a very stupid thing when surrounded by a ship full of enemies who likely wanted to kill her, but she wasn’t afraid of de Gris or her sword, and her pride refused to back down from such a grievous insult.

This was her chance to prove herself to these people.

Kuina took a deep breath, steadied her racing heart. She could feel the power around de Gris. The older woman was settled, like a table with a low center of gravity. She wouldn’t be easily overturned, but Kuina was confident. She was ready. She had trained her whole life for this moment, for the chance to be acknowledged as a skilled swordsman and not just a little girl playing with a blade

Her father once said that a true warrior wielded the blade of ten thousand men. Maybe she wasn’t there yet, but she was worth more than this one.

Kuina lifted her katana above her head, ready to end this in one strike. “Thousand man—”

De Gris was inside her guard before she could finish speaking.

Kuina moved on instinct, but de Gris batted her sword aside as if it were an inconvenient fly. With her free hand she reached inside the long coat hanging from her shoulders. In one fluid moment she pulled out a gun, cocked it, and pushed the cold metal barrel under Kuina’s chin.

It was horror in slow motion. Kuina flung herself back just as de Gris shouted, “Dara, now!”

An unseen force plowed into the back of Kuina’s knees. She crumpled face-first into the deck, white light flashing across her vision as her forehead cracked against the wood. Attempts to roll away were stopped by a pressure against the wrist of her sword hand and a vice-like grip around her ankles.

Kuina looked up to see Aria de Gris’s foot on her wrist and her gun between her eyes. Twisting frantically, Kuina couldn’t help but let out a yelp of alarm that Darareaksmey’s arms, head, and torso had her legs pinned firmly to the ground, the rest of her body seemingly melded with the deck.

“What the hell?!” Kuina exclaimed. “This was a duel! You...you cheated!”

“It was a skill check,” de Gris said flatly. “Do you think people in a war are going to line up for you all nice and neat, one at a time? Do you think they’re going to play by some arbitrary rules?”

She lowered her gun and sheathed her sword. “I’ve no use for a soldier with more ego than common sense. I don’t care how big a hot-shot you were in your little backwater dojo. In the real world, you aren’t worth shit.”

Xxx

“You know, you don’t have anything to be ashamed of. I’ve not seen anyone do that well against the boss in, well, a long time.”

“Please stop talking, I am begging you.”

Kuina ground the heels of her palms against her forehead, hoping to counterbalance the terrible pounding currently beating against the inside of her skull. She’d suffered from headaches on and off since being pushed down the stairs of her father’s dojo, and falling face-first into the deck had triggered a monster between her temples.

Dara was undeterred. “I wondered why Dragon wanted you so bad, but I can definitely see it.”

The island of Toulouse was a tiny speck on the horizon. With a favorable wind at their back, they’d soon arrive at the near-hopeless battle. Kuina didn’t know what was going to happen to her once they did, and worse, she didn’t care.

With the change in situation, Lyudmila had been relieved of babysitting duty in favor of joining the rest of the ship’s leadership in their makeshift war room. The mood of the Revolution had shifted, men and women moving with increased urgency as they sharpened weapons, prepared guns, and tried to coax every bit of speed from the brigantine, their faces drawn in grim, serious lines. Every once in a while a bark of nervous laughter would punctuate the air like cannonshot, but it was quickly hushed. Everyone knew that the situation was dire.

Dara, whose disregard for meetings extended even when the Revolution was on the verge of defeat, had taken over Kuina-watching duty. But even her enthusiasm had its limits, and every few minutes she would look out at the approaching island, squint as if she were trying to suss out the enemy position on that tiny black speck, her knee bouncing with nervous energy.

“Wonder what Boss will have you do,” she said absentmindedly.

“Probably nothing,” Kuina said. “You heard her: She’s got no use for me.”

Dara snorted. “Oh, please. Compared to the trouble I got myself into when I first joined, that was nothing. It’s an, ah...learning process. Being part of a group, I mean.”

That wasn’t very reassuring, but Kuina had no desire to argue. “What the hell was that trick you did, anyway? I never saw you coming.”

“Oh, my devil fruit?” Dara said, eyes brightening. She raised an arm, and in the time it took Kuina to blink, the space from her hand to her elbow went paper thin. The change was so sudden, so utterly bizarre, that Kuina couldn’t help but recoil away from it. Dara laughed, and just as quickly put her arm back to rights again.

“Flat Flat Fruit,” she explained. “Not much good for fighting, but sneaking around? Easy-breezy.”

“Just how many devil fruit users are on this ship?” Kuina asked.

“Right now? I don’t know everyone on Betty’s crew, but I think it’s just three. Once we hook up the rest of the crew there’ll be a couple more to show you.” Another squinting look at the horizon, more bouncing of her knee.

There was a comfortable lull in the conversation while Kuina massaged her aching head. A gull screeched overhead, making at least one Revolutionary jump. The moment quickly passed, and Dara slapped her palms against her thighs. “Well, I need to get ready. You just brought that backpack with you, right? You don’t have any armor or anything to put on, just in case?”

Just her mask. Kuina lugged herself to her feet and followed Dara belowdecks. For the first time, no one was paying attention to her, the Revolutionaries too busy with their own preparations. Kuina was glad to be invisible once more. Despite Dara’s reassurances, shame coiled around her belly, constricting like a snake squeezing the life out of its latest meal. It was impossible to walk with her head held high after her disgraceful performance. De Gris’s voice echoed in her mind, conflating with the voice of countless others she’d heard since childhood. The scar that drug across her chest pulsed with her head, bringing to the forefront the weakness she thought she’d long ago left behind.

You aren’t worth shit.

The words were short, concise, and painfully blunt, but they were also the truth. And for that, she had no one to blame but herself.

They passed by Elizabeth’s little workshop on the way to their quarters. When she saw the door was open, Dara paused to poke her head inside. The assistant cook was deep at work dividing what appeared to be dozens of firecrackers into different piles.

“Hey Lizard, got any goodies for me?” Dara asked.

Elizabeth didn’t look up from the task in front of her. “On the back shelf.”

Dara clasped her hands in front of her gave Elizabeth a tiny, mocking bow that was returned with a raised middle finger.

“Gracious as always,” Dara said once she returned to Kuina’s side. “C’mon, we’re wasting daylight.”

“Is she…?”

“Our munitions expert?” Dara said. “Yes. Yes she is.” She hugged a little baggie close to her chest like it was a lover. “Her food might be garbage, but I’m pretty sure that’s because she’s testing some new long-acting poison without telling anyone.”

“I can still hear you!”

“Seems like an odd mix of jobs,” Kuina said.

Dara shrugged. “Cooking, catastrophic explosions...it’s all chemistry, really. Lizard here just happens to be better at one form more than the other. Isn’t that right, Lizard?”

Elizabeth had stormed to the doorway while she was speaking. She hardly came up to Dara’s shoulder, but she carried herself with the same energy of a lady’s lap dog that thought itself a wolf. “Go. Away. And stop blabbing to the stowaway. She’s not on our side.”

Dara’s grin showed entirely too many teeth. “Wanna bet?”

“I’m not a stowaway,” Kuina said at the same time. There was a pause as what Dara said sunk in, and both she and Elizabeth looked up at her with disbelief.

“You’re crazy,” Elizabeth said. “A hundred berries says she bails at the first opportunity.”

“I’ll put down five that she stays.”

“Your loss,” Elizabeth said, and she slammed the door in their face.

Dara looked for a moment like she wanted to shout something through the door but thought better of it. She put her little baggie into her pocket and said, “You better not run on me. I don’t actually have five hundred berries.”

“It was a stupid bet,” Kuina said. “I’m not joining the Revolution.”

“Maybe, maybe not. But I saw how pissed you were when the boss pulled that gun on you. You’re not going to be happy till you beat her in a fair fight, no matter how long it takes.”

They walked the rest of the way in silence, and Kuina wondered if, just maybe, she was right.

[shipyard98]

Hey! I saw your matchups were open👉🏻👈🏻 and I was wondering if I could get one! I’m a trans male with freckles all over me and a dark purple undercut! Although it’s blonde on the shaved part I often paint pride flags on it! I’m a happy go lucky dude that wants to just vibe. I’m definitely who you call when you need a break and just need to talk. No advice though I suck at that I’m only here to listen lmfao.

Hello!

It has taken me such a long time to get back into this. I will admit, I got a bit overwhelmed back in 2020. This isn’t at all because I don’t genuinely enjoy making matchups, because I do! It’s because it was just a very confusing and headache-inducing period of time for me; moving to a new place, college life, and other things I’d rather keep private.

I am doing better now, though! And after writing a whole fic about good ol’ Formaggio (which is rated E for Explicit and on my AO3) and coming up with many other story ideas, I think I’m ready to come back!

Though, requests are closed for the time being until I can finish the ones I already have in my inbox. (As late as I am)

To the Anon who submitted (if you see this), I am so sorry I couldn’t get to you sooner, but I hope I can make it up to you with this matchup.

Anyways, on to the matchup! Now, after some consideration, I think that your matchup would most likely be...

GUIDO MISTA!

"Jeez, how'd I get so lucky and find such a cute boyfriend?"

That's what this superstitious gang member is likely thinking; your hair is something he especially finds to be cute

Oh, and your freckles! More likely than not, he'll kiss your freckles as a form of flirting or PDA in general (But he will avoid kissing any freckles that might be in close groups of four; he’s not about to put a curse on you by doing that)

He's a pretty outgoing guy, so chances are that the two of you will get along very well!

You'd be the first guy he'd go to after a long day of Passione work; he’d curl up beside you and telling you stories and stresses of what went down that day

I don't think he'd expect you to give him any advice; he enjoys you being there and indulging in his train of thought (as all over the place as that tends to be)

(Btw, heads up, I’m more than sure he protecc)

... And there you have it! I hope you enjoy it! ❤

[oberynmartell]

your kiss

There’s something about it, knowing that you can bring him to his knees like this. The biggest man you’ve ever known, ever seen, with his badge and his gun and his arms that are so big they could snap your neck in an instant, and you can bring him to his knees with just a single word, a single look. You’ve never felt so turned on, so powerful, as you do when kneels before you, lips parted, dark eyes glazed with love and lust and so many things you can see every time he looks at you, as he silently begs to touch you.

The station is nearly empty, the bare bones night crew long ago dispersed to their respective zones. Flip and Jimmy were the only ones left in the bullpen so late at night, but the moment you had come through the door looking so sweet in your yellow sundress Jimmy had pushed himself up out of his chair and excused himself to the kitchen, the way his eyes met your proving he knew exactly why you had schlepped all the way downtown after midnight.

Flip grinned when he saw you, the kind of smile that went all the way through him, from the long legs that stretched toward you to the smirk that played at his lips and the half-lidded eyes that widened at the sight of you.

“You didn’t have to come all the way down here, baby. It’s so late already.” he says, pretending to be stern, but you can feel the way his fingers play with the hem of your dress as you come to stand before him. He pushes himself back from his desk and pats his lap, waits for you to take your seat across his firm thighs.

“I didn’t have to.” You say, feeling his lips drag along the column of your neck, feeling that he’s already half hard against your thighs. His arms drape around you, holding you close against him, holding you so tight that you can feel how truly happy he was to see you.  

“Mmm.” he hums, nibbling gently at the spot behind your ear that has your back arching, feeling his tongue run across the aging bruise that already lay there. He strokes your back lovingly, a Flip-typical gesture that has your heart clenching as much as your cunt, and it’s like he knows, because the smirk half hidden by his goatee grows wider.

“Maybe I missed you.” You breathe, feeling his eyes slide down to your lips as you speak. Your fingers skim down the front of his flannel, feeling his muscle bunch and tighten beneath your hands as he tries to impress you, to show you how strong he is, as if you didn’t already know— as if just the sight of his firm chest and broad shoulders didn’t already make you wet. “Maybe I just wanted to see you.”

Flip kisses you, soft, smooth, simple, a preamble to what is inevitably to come.

He shifts you in his lap, soporific, rubbing himself against you. “That why you wore my favourite dress?” he asks, scratching his chin with the backs of his fingers. Your fingers splay across his chest, slipping through the space between his buttons, feeling his bare skin hot as the precincts fiery space heater, and when he shivers, it isn’t from the cold of your fingers.

Flip pushes you to your feet, holding your hand so he can spin you, can watch the way the light yellow cotton lifts and floats around your long legs. “Like sunshine.” he admires, his hands sliding up your thighs as he pulls you back to him, his legs widening to accept you between them.

“How’d I get so lucky?” he says lowly, and you wonder if he’s talking to himself then.

“Keep lookin’ at me like that and you might get lucky twice tonight.” You tease, stepping back from him to push yourself up onto his desk, sitting yourself down right on top of all those papers and files he had just been so focused on, and you think wickedly that the next time he goes to work the pages would bear the marks of your lovemaking.

“Don’t tease me now honey.” he said sternly, turning to face you. “You know I can’t resist when you look at me like that.”

You preen under his gaze and his words, and spread your legs.

Flip follows the movement, soft lips parting as they ache to delve back beneath your dress and chase you to another orgasm, missing the way you tremble and shake beneath him, the way he can always taste how sweet you are when you come for him.

You smile sweetly, so sweetly, and spread your legs wide for him, never having felt as powerful as you do when he sinks to his knees before you. His hands slide up your thighs slowly, your dress rising from the friction of his palms, and when he sees you aren’t wearing any panties his jaw works so tight you worry for his teeth.

He can’t help but lick his lips, tugging at the leg of his jeans in search of some relief to the almost uncomfortable arousal he feels, so turned on that he can barely stand to be this close to you and not be inside of you.

His eyes are dark as obsidian as they meet yours, searching, beseeching, and while you had planned on a lot more teasing and a lot more begging, you take pity on the poor man, beckoning him forward with one curling finger and whispering, “You can touch me, detective.”

He doesn’t wait another moment, kissing the flat of your calves, the sides of your knees, the meat of your thighs. He’s so close he can see your wetness, can smell your arousal, feeling the heat of your core against the lips he licks in anticipation.  

He guides you onto your back, balling up his jacket so you have something soft to lay your head upon, and uses his arm to push aside his phone and his keyboard and the framed photo of you so that you had more space. His thumb brushes across your clit just hard enough to have your back arching and your thighs lifting off the desk, just like they do when he drapes them over his shoulders and licks between your legs, and when he lets his rough fingers drag across your cunt you cant help but let your head fall back as pleasure washes over you.

Flip noses at you softly at first, pressing a series of lazy kisses across your folds, lavishing in the feel of how wet you are against his lips. He wants to work you to your peak slowly, wants to make this last and last and last— but he knows Jimmy can only keep the other detectives busy for so long, so before you even have a chance to catch your breath he ventures deeper.

His face presses against you, the flag of his tongue lapping at the wetness between your folds, the wetness that causes his ego to swell when he knows it was caused by him. His long nose bumps purposefully against your clit, a thick finger reaching to press into you slowly and the gasp you let out feels light and pretty as music.

Your fingers rise from where they had been massaging the back of his neck to card through his hair, fisting into the dark curls as he sets to work, your grip tightening each time he makes your thighs tremble and your cunt clench, until you’re holding him just like he likes, almost enough to make him come right then and there from the mix of pleasure and pain.

“Shit honey.” he moans, and you can feel the sound reverberate through your body like a blow. His hand nearly spans the width of your hips, pressing just hard enough to keep you from bolting off the desk as he kisses your wet cunt. “You taste so good. I swear I’ve never tasted anything so sweet.”

You gasp at the words and at the intrusion of a second finger, wishing then that there were two of him, so you could feel his lips on your cunt and your mouth at the same time, and by the time he pushes another finger inside of you, you can already feel your peak beginning to build up at the tips of your toes and the back of your neck, a dull vibration ringing through you like the repercussion of a freshly struck bell.

Flip watches you, always likes to watch you. When you’re washing the dishes in nothing but one of his old flannels, with the sleeves rolled up and balled at your elbows, when you’re on your knees beside the tub as you wash the dog, laughing as you’re sprayed with wetness when she tries to shake herself dry. When you’re sleeping beside him, so peaceful, and you look so soft and sweet that he can’t help but touch you, let his fingertips drag across the slopes of your warm cheeks or the curves of your bare shoulders as you nuzzle closer to him.

But his very favourite is to watch you like this— when you’re falling apart, coming undone under his hands, his lips, his cock.

With your eyes pressed closed and your mouth thrown open and your hands fisting in his dark hair, Flip feels like a God—  better than a God, because he isn’t sure a God could touch you like this. He watches your cunt clench beneath his ministrations, your breasts heaving as he moves your thighs over his shoulders like the finest scarf he owns, watches the way redness floods your cheeks so full that it begins to curl down your neck and toward your regretfully covered chest.

“God!” You cry, eyes wide and filled with tears from the pleasure of it all. “I’m so...I need-“

“I got you, honey.” he says, and you believe him.

He’d do anything for you, he always tells you. Anything you want, anything you need. You can see it in his face when he’s working late and you come by the station with fresh coffee and sandwiches for he and Ron and Jimmy. You can hear it, in the steady beat of his heart when you wake in the night and find yourself pulled upon his warm chest, his strong arms wrapped around you almost tight enough to be uncomfortable.

He wants you so bad he considers taking your right then and there, in front of anyone who could walk by, considers hefting you into his arms and carrying you home and not giving a damn about abandoning his post. But you’re right here, right beneath him, and for now it’s enough.

“Flip!” You cry out, so overcome that it’s all you can say, breathing his name over and over like a sigh, like a prayer. “It’s-“ you begin, choking on the pleasure that bubbles through you. You can feel his teeth graze your clit, his beard rubbing against you so intensely that you know you’ll be sore, but Flip will find each mark after, will sooth away the welts with soft, warm kisses. “I can’t Flip. I’m gonna-“

Flip knows you, knows every face you make and every noise that spills from your lips when you come, when he makes you come, and he knows that you’re close. He shifts forward, his hand rising to your throat, pressing just firmly enough to stop the sound that threatens to spring forth as it so often does when he works you like this.

He lifts his gaze to look up at you, and you can see the love and reverence and unfettered desire in his dark eyes, and the way he purses his lips around your clit and begins to squeeze your throat in time with his lips is enough to shatter you, to push you over the edge and into the near blindness of pleasure.  

He holds you through it, his eyes sweeping over you so intently it was as though he was trying to memorise every inch of you, every expression, every face. His tight hand at your throat stops the sound of your orgasm from ripping through the quiet precinct, and though he misses the way you moan, the way you call his name so huskily, as though you suddenly lose your voice when he’s inside of you, he can still savour in the way you shake, in the faces you make. Your brows pull together and your mouth falls open in a soundless shout, like a silent movie star caught in the throes of passion, and your body goes so tight beneath him that it seems like you might snap.

He stops working you that way, but continues to lay soft, open mouthed kisses across your cunt and your quivering thighs, carrying you gently through your orgasm. When the sweep of pleasure finally leaves you, you feel sated, boneless, like you could barely pull yourself off his desk, and you’re glad for the strength of his well-muscled arms as he lifts you up and sets you back on his lap, your weak body making Flip hold you like a ventriloquist with a puppet.

“I brought you coffee and doughnuts.” You say weakly and Flip doesn’t miss the smile in your voice. “I hear that’s what you officers like best.”

“No thanks, sweetness.” he says, chuckling darkly. He lifts you up and sets you back on your feet, offering a hand to keep you steady, and you take it happily, letting his arm fall across you to nestle between your breasts where it belongs. “I already had my dessert.”

You can see his cock pushing angrily against the front of his jeans and frown, hoping your cheeks aren’t too red as you look up at him.

“File room?” You ask, squeezing his arm. You’re more than familiar with the consistently empty room, having spent more hours with your face pressed into the old files or your ass resting against the cool steel of the filing cabinets than you can count.

He clicks his tongue, laying his jacket over your shoulders to hide the imprint his things had made upon your skin. “Not today honey.” he says and you falter, brow twitching in confusion. He smiles, takes your hand, pulls you close.“Who needs a file cabinet when you got a proper bed at home.”  

You grin, avoiding Jimmy’s knowing eye as you pass him. “And a car.” You say, feeling the rush of cool air on your skin as you emerge into the night. “With a nice big backseat.”