#yes he is a rough and tumble boy from the sticks BUT ALSO

[ultimablades]

I am thinking about Guydelot saying things that are super romantic and Sanson being like 😳😳😳

[slashingdisneypasta]

Total Drama Villains x Reader || Drabble Set

Plot: You forget to take a towel to the shower and only realise after the shower, so you open the window to stick your head out and ask whoever's out there (Hoping someone is out there) to grab you one but to your chagrin- there's just a villain.

Includes: Chris, Heather, Mal and Scott.

Warnings: Mmmm, I dont think so. Swearing? A kiss?

~~~

All:

You slowly look around the room, very very aware of the fact that you're naked and cold in a room that does not have a great lock on it. "Ohhhhhh no." The words come out low and steady... but are just brimming with panic.

No. Towel.

No towel!!

Finally you gasp, covering the bottom half of your face with your hands and looking at the benches and the sinks in dread. You accidentally came in here without a towel!!

The sudden sound of footsteps out the back of the cabin rips a gasp from your throat and you lunge at the window, unlatching the lock and opening it to see who it is. Before you even stick your head out, you're calling for whoever it to stop. Please. Hold on! I need your help!

Chris McLean:

*You are an adult camper.

When you actually see who's standing out there, you groan. Chris McLean stands outside on the grass, hands in his pockets and an intrigued look in his eyes. He know's he's about to be amused, or he's going to amuse himself depending on what kind of trouble you're in- or what kind of help you apparently need.

"What's up?~"

"Nevermind."

"Oh no no no! Come on, you can confide in Uncle Chris, cant you?"

A whine tumbles out of you. Uncle Chris?? Grooooooooss. He see's and acknowledges your disgusted reaction to him calling himself that, but just giggles. He doesn't leave, to your utter annoyance.

What other choice do you have?? Rolling your eyes, you look down at your feet instead of meeting his beady eyes and wiggle your toes. And mutter suuuuper quietly, half hoping he doesn't hear you. "I forgot to bring a towel... and I really need one... " And, this part you say especially quietly. For seriously asking Chris fucking McLean for a hand would be akin to letting your dignity pack its bags and fly the coop. "... and would you please get one for me... "

"... Sorry, I didn't catch that. What didja say?"

Oh god. A little louder, you say shortly. "... I forgot a towel... "

Chris smirks at that, rolling back on the feels of his feet. "And? What would you like from me, Y/N?"

Finally too frustrated to keep playing this stupid game with the show's host, you snap your eyes up to his and cross your arms. "Fine! Damnit. Get me a towel, please."

Immediately, a cat like grin slowly spreads across Chris' face. Its the most evil thing you have ever seen.

"Now why would I do that when I could get Chef here to send in a buncha rabid bats with you and flush you out?" Christ teases - no, threatens. But then again, does he know the difference in the first place? - , that famous, alabaster white, terror instilling grin on his face as usual. "Now that's, good TV!"

You groan, head falling back on your neck, in frustration. "Chrr-ris!!"

"Ha ha! Well? What do you expect?" You cant argue with that, but you cans till groan again. "Okay, fine. I'll get you a towel! But what will you do for me, heh? Nothing comes for free."

"Oh, don't I know it. I've been on this show for 3 seasons now." For some reason.

"Heh heh."

"Fine, I'll... " Ugh, something for Chris... You blow air out of your cheeks slowly, in thought. What would Chris like? Well, he'd sure get kick out of you getting one of your friends hurt but that's sure as hell not happening. Finally, after a few moments, you get an idea. And scowl. "I'll be sure to drum up some drama for you. Good TV, right?"

"For sure! Promise?~"

Sighing, you lean tiredly on the window sill. "Oh, I cross my heart and hope to die." You promise him like he's a child, which he basically is. Chris McLean has got the maturity level and the intelligence package of a 7 year old on crack.

"Wicked! Heh heh, this'll be good. Okay, hang tight. I'll be back."

You smirk at his retreating back.

~

When he finally gets back and hands you a towel - a much nicer towel then what you and the other campers have been using. Which is nice? But also, you cant help but worry about what kind of strings might be attached to it, - through a crack in the door, you carefully wrap it around your body and tightly tuck it in.

"I'll want that towel back" He snaps, cranky. Why?? He could've just gone and gotten you your towel! "I imported that from Fiji!"

Of course he did.

Now you take a deeeeeeep breath, gathering all your courage, and killing the butterflies reeking havoc in your stomach. Then open the door again and grab hold of the front of Chris' signature teal shirt and wrench him close before he can walk too far off.

And you smash your lips together and slam your eyes tightly closed.

When you pull back from the kiss - a horrible, unpleasant, bad kiss, - you immediately wipe your mouth with your arm and let him go. But when you reveal your mouth again, you're for damn sure smirking at the stunned man. "Is that dramatic enough for you, Chris? A camper and the host? Scandalous- I bet we'll be front page news."

Then quickly you lock yourself inside the bathroom again, not really caring for his reaction- which only comes, finally, minutes later when you're half way dressed.

"DAMN IT Y/N!!"

Heather:

"Hm." Heather crosses her arms, an evil smirk on her lips- opportunity has knocked on her door. Or, the inside of the shower cabin. "You need something from me. Well! What will you do for me return? Hm?"

As expected. "I will vote for whoever you want me to at 2 different instances of your choice going forward. Except for myself, I wont vote myself out."

She thinks for a moment, but definitely looks pleased. "Three, different instances of my choice."

Fucks sake- "Fine! Just- please! I'm getting cold and one of the boys could come in here at any time and see me butt ass naked!!"

Uncrossing her arms and setting her hands on her hips instead, Heather laughs. "Oh- one of these boys? Shower? Haha. Have you smelled them??"

You blush darkly at her joking with you; At your worry but not your expense, before shaking your head of silly feelings and usher the pretty girl Heather, forward. "Go! Go! Get my towel already."

"Be right back." She rolls her eyes, heading off.

~

When she gets back, she reaches up to the window with the towel and you gratefully take it, beginning to dry off any drips from your body and get dressed as quickly as possible. "Thank you Heather!!"

"Mhm, yeah. Sure."

A few minutes later when you leave the door, Heather's waiting for you on the porch and you basically have a small stroke- jesus christ, why is she there!? STILL!?

"Oh, relax. I'm just cashing in some of your part of the bargain." She sneers, walking closer to you and pressing a sharp fingernail into your chest. "Dont forget, you owe me now."

"I remember Heather, we did this like 10 minutes ago."

"Good." She smiles, a tint of evil to it still. Pleasantly surprised that you're being so obedient. She leans back. "Okay, so Gwen's got to go. You got that? She's out. Vote for her and you're third done with your debt to me."

"Yes ma'am." You smirk, brushing by her and stalking off back to your cabin to put away your things.

Heather watches, hands on her hips and her own smirk on her lips. You might just be useful out of this bunch of losers. Not quite a diamond in the rough, but... better, at least. For sure. "Hm."

Mal:

"Oh- Mike!" You exclaim excitedly as soon as you see the lanky, dark haired boy. What luck!!

But then he slowly turns around; A dark, sinister grin on his face and hair over one eye. And your heart immediately drops.

This is not Mike. Neither is it Chester, Svetlana, Vito or Manitoba- any of which would have been just fine alternatives for this moment.

This has to be fucking Mal. You've met him before, and absolutely nevermind on the luck front.

"Nope." Yep- the grizzly, deep voice that responds to you can belong to no one other then Mike's chaotic evil alter. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. You continue to chant curses in your head as he turns around fully and comes forward, looking up with evil glinting in his eyes at you like a twisted Flynn Rider to your Rapunzel.

The kind that makes you rather stay inside your tower- its safer here then out there with him. You don't go out to meet the rabid pit bull!!

"Ummm, nevermind! Go about your business, I'm fine here. See ya!"

"Oh no. What'd you want from little Mikey?" He asks, crossing his arms and tilting his head to the side, cruelly inquisitive. You chew on your bottom lip. Damn it; You've peaked his interest. Fuck.

"Um... " The sound comes out quiet and insure as you look down at the grass before his feet instead of his face. You're so nervous. "Well, I... I forgot my towel before I took my shower, and uh... I was just gonna ask him if he could go get me one."

For a moment, he's silent. Your gaze flickers up to his face to see an utterly wolfish look on his face, eyes gleaming with mischief before averting your eyes again to the grass.

Then a loud puff of hard, unpleasant laughter escapes him. He doubles over, holding his stomach as he guffaws at your embarrassing situation. You roll your eyes and cross your arms.

"Oh shut up," You snap, bravely- making him cut off his laughter immediately and look at you. You dare to fucking talk to him like that? "Come on, go get me a towel, please!! I'll owe you one."

After a moment, he stands up straight again and crosses his arms. Yes, he could do something horrible to you right now to teach you not to talk back to him; but it looks like you're going to struggle without his help. All he has to do is watch! "Hmm, nope!"

"Come on!"

"Not gonna happen."

"Ugh." You groan, leaving the window and Mal and plopping down on a bench. Fucking bastard.

This is so awkward. Especially since you know he's still out there!! And he could send someone in at any time.

... Minutes later, and you're still dripping wet but now freezing fricken cold, a towel is flung in through the still open window and lands on the wet floor near your feet. Your eyebrows fly up your forehead, as you look from it in surprise and to the window.

Mal's voice calls through it. "There! Its no fun if you just sit and bear your punishment." Huff. You can just imagine the cute boy - the look works for Mike, but is just very odd on Mal, - crossing his arms and setting his jaw, or even pouting. His voice just sound sooo frustrated. "I'll get you another time, anyway. Everyone will go down, eventually."

"Oh... mhm, oh sure." I mean, I can at least listen to his evil babble since he got me a towel, you think as you start drying yourself down and getting dressed.

A moment after you've got your shirt on, the door is kicked open and Mal stands on the threshold, making you jump. "Jesus christ!- "

"Kiss thank you?"

"Get outta here!" Absolutely not!

Scott:

Peering out from the window, you nearly miss the boy leant up against the cabin beneath you, in fact you would have- if it weren't for his bright orange hair. You gasp, unintentionally getting his attention and smiling brightly when he looks up to find you. "Scott!"

A confused, yet somehow still evil expression paints his face. "Y/N?? What are you doing?"

"Well farm-boy, how do you feel about giving a lady a hand??"

Scott snorts, getting off the wall and stepping back to see you properly. "Lady? I don't see any lady here."

Oh- Bastard. You look back into the bathroom before disappearing from the window for a moment before returning, and promptly clobbering him with an empty shampoo bottle. "You see her now!?"

"Ugh... yeah." He grumbles more malleably now, much more open to suggestion as he rubs his forehead. "Sure, now I see her... ow."

Now you feel a little bad. He looks so pitiful when he's in pain... and yes he's a rat but... its still not okay to hurt someone. You aren't Chris. And also you're getting colder and colder as the water drips unimpeded down your skin and maybe its making you soft. "Ohh... okay, I'm sorry."

He glances up at you, surprised at your apology. "Ahh, no problem, I guess... " Did someone just apologise for whacking him on this show? He crosses his arms, raising a curious look to your disembodied head. "Uhh, what'd you need a hand, with?"

"I... kinda... forgot a towel... could you please go get one for me??"

For a moment you watch his eyes narrow and a wicked grin flicker at the corners of his mouth and get anxious that he's going to ask for something in return- before he rolls his eyes and just shrugs, turning and heading off to the cabin. "Yeah, sure, whatever. Be right back- try not to gather too much attention, haha."

As he walks off, you duck under the window again, sighing in so much relief. "Thanks, Scott!"

~

When he returns, you're waiting at the door and crack it open just enough to get the towel from him immediately- which you quickly wrap around yourself comfortably and sigh. "Thank you so much!"

"Hm. No problem." He huffs, wondering why the hell he did this for you anyway and crossing his arms again.

From inside, you carefully ask: "Are you gonna get weird if I hug you now?"

Immediately Scott's ears go bright red and he quickly loses every little bit of cool-guy vibe from a moment ago. "I-In your towel?? N-No!! I mean- yes!" He rubs the back of his neck, looking away from the door like its you, or he'll accidentally spontaneously develop x-ray vision and damnit, he's a gentleman. "I mean... " Or at least he tries to be.

Grinning, because Scott's unexpectedly cute now that you've flustered him, you quickly open the door, hug him quick, then close the door again and shout 'BYE'.

[quindolyn]

Please can i request a smut with young sirius black where the reader is very insecure and dosen't think she deserves him. Where he praises her and shows her just how pretty he thinks she is. Could you include daddy kink, praise kink and pet names if you are comfortable with that?

(also thank you for the sympathy Chinese food)

Worthy || Sirius Black

Word Count: 3,654

Notes: Not quite sure how I feel about this, I feel really out of it and have felt like that for a couple of days. I hope you enjoy it though anon, usually I post the request then the piece but doing that makes my blog kind of cluttered and I know I think it’s cleaner when people answer requests like this but I don’t know if I’m going to stick with it.

Warnings: insecure!reader, mad Siri for like 2 seconds, oral (female receiving), praise kink, daddy kink, petnames

Masterlist

“Siri we need to talk.” Yes, be blunt, be straightforward, no beating around the bush. You weren’t going to prolong this any longer than necessary. It was time to set Sirius free, he didn’t need someone like you holding him down, holding him back. And it was time you told him that.

“Yes, poppet?” He quirked an eyebrow, setting his book next to him on the plush couch of the Gryffindor common room. 

“I-I was hoping we could have this conversation in private, in your dorm maybe?” You shifted your weight from foot to foot, your anxiety causing bile to rise in your throat, threatening to make you sick all over Sirius’s shoes.

“Everything okay (Y/N)?” He asked you, his eyes swimming with concern as he ushered you up the stairs to his dorm, a hand resting protectively on the small of your back. 

You didn’t answer him, instead going to sit on his bed once you reached the dorm room, toeing at the fringe of the worn carpet that had probably been there for decades, keeping your eyes on your feet instead of meeting the raven haired boy’s eyes. Leaving them instead to gaze at the top of your head. 

“(Y/N/N)? Are you okay? You’re scaring me.”

Breathing in deeply you steeled yourself, straightforward, get this over quickly, “We need to break up Sirius.”

“What?” You winced, he sounded angry and you were sure that had you been able to meet his eyes they could’ve portrayed his anger as well.

“I said that we nee-”

“No, I heard you!” He growled, his hands balling into fists, “What the fuck are you talking about? I don’t want to break up with you, don’t I get a say in this?”

“Well I want to, Sirius, and last I checked it took two people to make a relationship work, we can’t make this work if I don’t want to!” You yelled, finally raising your head to meet his visage and your heart broke.

Sirius looked heartbroken, betrayed, horribly sad, and angry. And for a second you regretted telling him that you wanted to break up in the first place.

Because you didn’t want to, you had to, for Sirius.

“That’s bullshit (Y/N)! Who is it?”

“Sirius?” You asked incredulously, what did he mean ‘who’?

“Who have you been cheating on me with? Who the fuck?” In his anger he picked up a book abandoned on your nightside table, throwing it onto the floor.

“W-What?” You stuttered, trying to keep your tears at bay.

Sirius growled, literally baring his teeth like a feral dog, “You heard me, who the fuck are you cheating on me with? Diggory? Snape?”

“I’m not- I didn’t- I-” You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath in attempts to calm yourself before continuing, “I didn’t cheat on you Sirius, I would never. This is just what’s best for you.”

“How can not being with you be best for me? I don’t wanna not be with you! Why can’t you get that through your head?” He sounded more desperate now than he did angry now, almost as if he could tell that there was something off with you and your motivations behind your hurtful words.

“You are so much better than me Sirius! You’re wonderful, and you’re smart, you excel in our subjects without even trying, you’re charismatic and witty and just plain funny! Not to mention that you’re drop dead fucking gorgeous, and I’m- I’m not. You’re everything Siri, you’re my moon and my sun and my stars, you’re the whole fucking galaxy and you deserve at least that much. And god damn it, Sirius! I’m nothing! You deserve someone half as wonderful as you are, I’m barely a fraction of a percent.” Your voice broke more at the end than you would’ve liked.

You watched as Sirius’ face fell, his bottom lip wobbling as tears flooded his eyes, which once swam with anger were now drowned in guilt and sorrow. “Puppy,” He sniffled, pulling you up into my arms as he buried his face into your neck, “Puppy, I never meant to make you feel like that. You’re everything, my love, you’re wonderful and perfect for me. I love you so much, I’m so sorry I wasn’t good enough at showing you that.” His grip tightened on you with each word until you could feel him constricting your blood flow.

“S’not your fault Siri, you’re just so much better than me. I feel so bad holding you back.”

He pulled away from you, finally allowing you to properly inhale, cupping your face in his strong hands, tilting your head up so he could look directly into your eyes. 

“You, my love, do not hold me back, you propel me forward every day and make me strive to be a better man for you. Please don’t leave me, baby, not because of this, not because you think I deserve better. I don’t even deserve you, especially if I haven’t made you feel as great as you are.”

You were an idiot. This man loved you, maybe almost as much as you loved him. You couldn’t just leave him, but you also couldn’t stay and continue to hold him back. What the fuck were you supposed to do?

“Siri,” A sob tumbled from your lips as you threw yourself at his toned chest, letting your tear stained cheeks rest against the soft material of his shirt, “Siri I- I’m so sorry I love you so much I just- I just…”

“I know love, I know,” Sirius soothed you, petting your hair with one hand, his other arm wrapped around your waist pulling you flush against him. “But you are wonderful, you are the light of my life. Let me show you how stunning you are, how beautiful and gorgeous I think your body is. Let me show you how much I love you.”

“Okay,” You responded, knowing that Sirius would require verbal consent before so much as touching you.

He walked you back until your knees hit against the edge of the bed, easing you down onto the mattress, then pushing your back down so that you were lying on your back, staring up at him through your water logged lashes.

“Look at you baby girl,” He cooed, standing in between your legs, looking down at your form, long curtains of ink black hair falling into his face. 

Feeling heat rush to your face you moved your hands to cover it from the intense gaze of your boyfriend. 

“Hey there pup,” HIs large hands reached for your wrists, gently pulling them away from your face, pinning them to the bed on either side of you, “There you are pretty girl, don’t hide from me please, wanna see my pretty girl.”

“Sorry,” You murmured.

“Don’t have to apologize to me darling, just want to see you.” He began unbuttoning his black button down, his nimble fingers worked quickly, pulling the buttons out of their holes. As he shrugged his shirt off of his body, revealing the entirety of his upper body to you, you felt your mouth go dry, how were you supposed to compare to that?

In your panicked haze, you didn’t notice Sirius’ fingers dipping under the hem of your shirt until you felt the warm pads of his fingertips dancing along the supple flesh of your stomach. A small gasp escaped your parted lips accompanied by a small wince.

“You’re so soft baby, so soft in my hands,” Sirius praised, allowing his rough palms to slide to your waist where they squeezed gently, “Can I take this off of you?”

After a moment’s hesitation, you nodded your consent, raising your arms above your head so that Sirius could slip the garment off of you, letting it drop to the floor next to his feet. You resisted the urge to fold your arms over your now bare torso as Sirius took his time ogling you, he swallowed repeatedly, sure he’d seen you naked before but your body would never cease to take his breath away. 

“Baby,” He crooned, his eyes flying up to meet yours, “Your tits look so pretty in this bra, pretty color on you too, did you buy it for yourself?” Slowly, giving you time to stop him, one of his hands wandered to your clothed breast, giving it a nice squeeze through the lacy pink fabric. 

“Uh huh, bought it over the summer with Lily and Marlene,” You answered, watching his face as he observed your heaving chest, feeling suddenly very courageous you spoke again, “You um, you can take it off if you’d like.”

This brought Sirius’ attention from your chest up to your visage, “You sure m’love, don’t have to take it off yet if you don’t want to.”

“It’s fine,” You gulped, eyes wide, mouth dry, “I want to.”

“Arch your back then for me pup,” Sirius’ deep baritone commanded to which you promptly obeyed, allowing Sirius’ hands to slip between your back and the mattress as he expertly undid the clasp in what must’ve been record time before slipping the delicate straps off of your shoulders.

Not giving you time to be embarrassed at your progressing state of undress Sirius surged forward, slotting your lips with his, drinking from you like you were a canteen of water and he had just hiked through the Sahara. He braced himself on his forearms which rested on either side of your head, letting his tongue trace trace the seal of your lips once, twice, three times, he then plunged deep into the velvet of your warm mouth. He was gentle as he mingled his tongue with yours, brushing against yours with his. 

You let out a small moan into the kiss which had Sirius’ eyes rolling back in his head, “I wanna show you how much I love you (Y/N),” Sirius murmured into your neck as he pulled away from your lips, instead leaving small kisses down the column of your throat, “We can stop if you want to, but if not I need to show you how special you are. Can I show you?”

You managed a small “Yes Daddy,” as you felt him grin into skin.

He looked up at you, eyes twinkling, “Such a good girl for me pup.”

Much to your vexation Sirius pushed himself off of you but you were settled slightly when you saw him start on the button of his pants before doing the zipper and pulling them down his legs leaving him only in his boxers. 

He resumed his position on top of you, gently taking your hand from where it lay on the bed to place it over the soft material of his worn boxers, “You feel that Puppy? You feel how hard my cock is?”

“Yes Daddy.”

“You did that to me!” He beamed down at you, his hair only slightly obstructing his view of you, “That’s how much I love you, how fucking hot you are, got me so hard so quickly, no time at all baby girl and Daddy’s already desperate for you.”

You were unable to prevent the rush of heat to your face at his comment, hoping he wouldn’t be able to tell just how flustered he could make you.

With your agreement Sirius finally pulled down your leggings and panties in one fluid motion, gently pulling them off of your feet before he rid himself of his boxers.

“Fuck, love,” He swore before kneeling before you and pressing a kiss to the inside of your ankle, “So sexy all splayed out for me on your bed, these legs,” His hands ran up and down your calves before venturing up past your knees to your thighs where they gripped the flesh, not hard enough to bruise but just enough to convey his emotion through his loving touch. 

At his repeated praise you felt your wetness beginning to gather in your pussy, a small knot beginning in the pit of your stomach as he traced his lips up your calves, just barely grazing your flesh tickling your skin.

Once he got to your thighs his small kisses became open mouthed, and wet, leaving trails of saliva in his wake as he started leaving dark bruises on your legs. “I love your legs darling, the way they look in your uniform skirt, your leggings, jeans. Love them so much.” He left a soft kiss on the top of your thigh, taking note of the shiver that ran through your body.

Pushing your thighs apart he inched you closer to the edge of the bed, throwing your legs over his broad shoulders allowing him to face your pussy head on. “Gonna make you feel so good baby, you deserve to feel good.”

He moved his arms to pin your hips to the bed, giving him more control in what he was about to do. He parted your folds with his nose, allowing him to inhale your scent.

“You smell heavenly Puppy, one of my favorite things about you, your pussy smells like heaven, and fuck does it taste good.”

As if to prove his point he leaned forward, licking a broad stripe from your hole up to your clit, letting out a moan at your taste. The vibrations from his moan sent shockwaves through your clit, feeding the knot growing in your stomach you clenched your thighs around his head.

He took it as a sign of encouragement and began sucking on your clit, pulling the sensitive nub between his lips he released hums reveling in the way they made your thighs clench around his head.

You clasped one hand over your mouth in attempts to muffle your moans from spilling out into the dorm room. And though it did do a fine enough job at it, not good enough for Sirius not to hear an especially loud whine when he nipped lightly at your clit.

“Puppy?” He raised his head from between your legs, cocking his head to the side like the puppy that had become synonymous with your name, “Wanna hear you please, want to hear the pretty little noises you make when I eat your cunt.” 

As he spoke he inserted a single finger into your quivering hole, wanting to stretch you out for his cock which was aching and desperate to be buried deep inside of you. With his other hand, he reached for the wrist of the hand covering your mouth, pulling it away from your face to lay on the mattress where he interlaced your fingers with his, squeezing your hand comfortingly.

Hoping you would follow his instruction and let him hear you he ducked down to return his mouth to your clit, sucking on the nub again without stopping his finger which was still making its way in and out of your hole. Not satisfied that he was making you feel good enough he inserted a second finger into your cunt, stretching you out even more.

Sirius smiled into your pussy when he heard you moan, “Fuck Siri!” 

“Come on Puppy,” He pressed a kiss to your hip bone, “That’s not my name, you know it, tell me what my name is good girl.”

“Daddy,” You gasped, thrusting your hips further onto his fingers which still continued their agonizingly slow pace, “Daddy, feels so good.”

“I know baby, I know,” Sirius pressed a kiss to the inside of your thigh, letting his cheek rest against the soft flesh as he looked up at your writhing, perspiring form, “Gonna stretch you out on one more finger then you should be ready for my cock Pup, one more then I get to be inside of this beautiful cunt.” His gaze drifted to your pussy, which was beautifully swollen for him.

“Please Daddy,” The whimper left your lips with you barely noticing, “Please want your cock.”

“Want to give it to you my love, just gotta get you ready.”

Suddenly feeling the need to be inside of you now, no doubt caused by your begging, he added another finger inside of your cunt, trying not to pay too much mind to the way you clenched around him, afraid that if he did he wouldn’t be able to think straight.

How could someone’s fingers feel so good? The knot in your stomach continued to get tighter and tighter but you still craved more, you needed him inside of you. 

Simultaneously you breathed both a sigh of relief and released a bereft whimper as he pulled his fingers from your cunt, making a show of bringing them to his mouth where he licked them clean, closing his eyes in pleasure as your taste bled across his tongue. 

“You taste so good Puppy, like candy,” Seeing that you obviously didn’t believe him he leaned down so his body was pressed to your and gently eased your mouth open before collecting spit in his mouth and spitting it into your’s. “See? See how good you taste? My favorite taste in the whole wide world. Swallow for me Puppy,” He grinned as you obeyed, “Good girl,” He praised with a kiss to your forehead.

“Now can you scooch up on the bed for me?” Once you were carefully rested further up on the bed, your head lying on a pillow, Sirius climbed on top of you, lining the weeping head of his prick up with your opening. 

You couldn’t stop the moan that left your lips as he fully sheathed himself inside of your heart, the head of his cock prodding at your g spot thanks to the slight curve of the member.

Sirius smiled down at your face which was contorted in pleasure as he guided one of your hands to the base of your stomach, “You feel that? That’s me, that’s how good you take my cock love, I can feel it in your tummy.”

“I can feel it Daddy,” You answered feebly, Sirius’ grey eyes shimmered with adoration and pride as he looked down at your stomach before coming back to meet yours.

“You have the prettiest eyes darling,” He cooed, leaning down to kiss the outer corners of your eyes. He began thrusting in and out of you, his strokes, slow and deep as he took his time pulling out and then pushing back in. 

“So wet for me, slid right in because you were so ready for me baby, and now you’re squeezing me so good.” The praises fell from his lips one after another, wanting to broadcast to you his every thought about how perfect and wonderful you were, hoping that maybe something would be able to get through to you.

The feeling of Sirius inside of you was absolutely heavenly, it was a full feeling unlike any other. His width was just enough to stretch you but not enough to cause too much pain, you wrapped your hands around his neck, burying your face in his chest as he continued moving inside of you. 

“I love you so much, I love you (Y/N), you are my everything darling,” He slowed down his strokes, taking his time with each, “I’m so sorry I haven’t shown you that, but I love you more than I could ever properly tell you. Love you so much that you’re going to make me cum in an embarrassingly short amount of time.”

The both of you giggled at that, knowing that Sirius was usually able to go for multiple rounds, and the slight clenching around his prick as a result of your laughter did nothing to help matters. 

“Could you go a little faster Daddy, please?” You asked timidly, needing more stimulation as the knot in your stomach continued to tighten both at the feeling of Sirius nestled deep inside of you and the flattery he kept serving you. 

“Such good manners Puppy,” He took the note quickly, speeding up his thrusts just enough, “Such a pretty girl taking my cock, your pretty hair all splayed out around you, like a halo. Makes you look like the angel you are.”

For some reason his comment had tears ebbing at your eyes, you barely noticed as a few escaped and rolled down your cheeks.

“Puppy, does it hurt? Why are you crying?” Worry was etched across his features as he gazed down at you, ceasing his thrusts.

“I don’t deserve you,” You blubbered, willing the tears to stop, “You’re just too good for me.”

Sirius leaned down, resuming the movement of his hips, kissing the tears off of your skin, “No I’m not, you deserve me Puppy, you deserve me. And I’ll keep telling you until you believe me.” 

You used your arms to pull his chest against yours as he sped up his thrusts, trying to convince you that you deserved this, “I-I’m going to cum Daddy, gonna cum. Can I cum Daddy?”

“Of course Puppy, cum for me, be a good girl and make a mess all over my cock. Be my little messy bunny, gonna cum with you.”

He rocked his hips against yours three more times before he exploded inside of you, rope after rope of cum coating the inside of your walls as you released around him. Making a mess just as he’d told you to, feeling the knot in your stomach unravel, perhaps not as intensely as usual but so much better.

Your whimpers of “Daddy” quieted as your pleasure overwhelmed you, drowning you in your orgasm as you continued to clench around Sirius’ cock, hips still bucking to meet his.

In his release Sirius repeated “I love you”, over and over again, chanting it like it was a prayer, like a promise.

“I love you,” He whispered, pressing a kiss to your cupid's bow as you unclenched your eyes, “And I’m going to spend the rest of my love showing you just how much.”

tagging: @randomoutsiders @weasleyposts @kittykylax @superbturtlemakerathlete

[karlswrites]

A Grimm Trip

This is part two of the Devildom boys carrying you around. From here on out, this little series shall be affectionally named the Devildom Taxi Service. This week's boy is Mams the Man.

I hope y'all enjoy a protective Mammon!

Warnings: Some violence? Like, there's no blood. Also, you have a twisted ankle, so... sorry. There's that good fluff, though...

Word Count: 1,694

When arriving at the Devildom- even though it was a shock- you didn’t expect most demons to be friendly with you. You expected some cursing and the classic life endangerment, but you didn’t expect high-school-level bullying. You were in college, for Pete’s sake. Needless to say, the demon foot sticking out by your classroom’s door was an unpleasant surprise. So was the faceplant that followed right after.

You attempted to stand back up, pulling yourself up by your elbows and knees. Within one second, a disheveled Mammon (Let’s be honest, he would sprint to you) was kneeling at your side. His hands made swift movements, one landing at the small of your back and the other grabbing at one of your wrists. He pulled you up and into him.

His heartbeat drummed against your ears. It was beating fast. Whether it was from worrying about you or embarrassment, you didn’t know. Still, the sound fluttered around you, engulfing you in warmth. Expected to see a miffed Mammon, as he was typically vexed by you getting in trouble, you looked up. Mammon had apparently decided to look at you then, too. A furious blush washed over his cheeks and ears when he noticed how close you were. The expression was surprising, and the shock of it made you grow a similar shade in return. Again, you felt his pulse rate increase. That somehow calmed you, and you began to relish in everything that was Mammon. He was always so selfless as to embarrass himself in your stead. Stepping in right after you suffered a measly trip, caring not for his tarnished reputation. His brothers always called him selfish, but, boy howdy, were they wrong.

Mammy released your wrist but kept his hand on your back, ensuring that you wouldn’t fall back down. The two of you began to stand together when a sharp pain shot through your ankle. Mammon immediately lowered you back to the floor, sitting you back against the wall.

“Whoa, hey! Are you okay?” he asked, words tumbling out of his mouth about a mile a minute.

You almost couldn’t understand him, though his urgency to treat you was sweet. Futilely, you tried to ensure him that you were fine, but that same pain returned when you attempted to move again. Turning your foot felt like a death sentence; you were in rough shape.

Before you could muster any soothing words, Mammon was at his feet again. Never taking his eyes off you, he approached the other student still laughing at his desk. The boy fell silent when he noticed the Avatar of Greed was standing before him. The cocky grin he wore turned panicked.

“You think it’s funny? You think hurting my human is funny?” Mammon’s voice lowered an octave as he spoke. Some semblance of a growl echoed from his throat.

Those shrill screams and whines you had once associated him with melted away from your memory and were replaced by, if you thought you had heard correctly, his snarl. He was clearly pissed off. Being the only demon who never laid a hand on you, it was a bit scary to see him behave like this. Anger was beginning to physically manifest around him; the lights dimmed and the surrounding air started to cumulate into black fog.

Being the fourth (I’m putting Barbatos at #2) most powerful demon, Mammon was capable of things beyond your imagination. Fear took the reigns in your brain as you began to imagine a series of scenarios, each pumping more and more cortisol into your veins. One image showed the greedy demon decimating your classmate, claws ripping into their uniform, fangs plunging into any extremity he could reach, horns threatening to pierce through the top of his head. It was quite the contrast to how he typically acted when terrorized by Lucifer or any of his other brothers. He’d allow them to hang him from the ceiling, but God forbid anyone to do anything like that to you. You were his emotional support human, and he wanted to protect you as your first. Anyone who hurt you was begging for whatever they got.

You were pulled from your thoughts when the unnamed demon yelped. Mammon had lifted him, fists curling into his jacket’s collar. The black fog had begun to swirl around the two, gradually rising from Mammon’s feet into the air. With each curse and threat escaping his lips, the fog rose higher and higher. If things continued like this, the two would be swallowed whole by the essence.

Knowing that there was no other way to stop Mammon from making a mistake, you called out him. The golden glow from Mammon’s sigil emitted from your back and through the thick material of your jacket. A wave of strength coursed through you as you stretched a hand out towards the two.

“Stop.” Your voice rang louder than you intended, but you were surprised by how clear it was. Your body was still shaking, but it definitely didn’t sound like it.

Mammon froze. His hands stilled as if frozen in time. The black fog dissipated completely a second after your command reached him.

“Let him go, Mammon. Come back to me.” Mammon eased at your soft voice and followed your orders without a thought.

When he looked back at you, his eyes gleamed with something: a mixture of gratitude and shame. There was rarely a cause for you to command him, and he hated every single time he brought you to control him. It wasn’t relinquishing himself to you that upset him. No, it was that he had let you down. To him, he had done something grave. Anything that he did that wasn’t right with you was like a cardinal sin in his eyes. His perception was a tad melodramatic, but after how you fixed the broken remnants of his family, you were truly an angel to him. Disappointing you had become his biggest fear and grievance.

“It’s okay,” you called to him, your voice beginning to waver as the sigil’s magic wore off. “You’re okay.”

You silently prayed that your words anchored themselves to him, and you made a note to yourself to praise him for his kindness later once you saw the light returning to his golden orbs- the same gold that brightened when he let the student go and raced back to your side. Mammon was still undoubtedly angry at the other demon, baring teeth as he glared at him over his shoulder. Getting the hint, he and your other classmates hurried out of the room.

Mammon asked again if you were okay. You said yes. His eyes traveled from yours to your ankle (When writing this, I almost said, “His eyes traveled down south for the winter. Not even kidding), and he removed your shoe. He wrapped his hand around your ankle and gently poked it with his thumb, eliciting a quiet whimper. The pout he gave after almost made you laugh despite the pain.

“Yeah, I ain’t lettin’ ya walk like that,” he murmured. His eyes met yours again and his pout spread into a white smile. “Guess it’s my duty to help ya back to your room.”

As you recalled one past life-threatening instance, you understood Mammy loved playing the hero, so you agreed.

Mammon turned on his knees, facing his back towards you. Carefully, he trudged backward to you, keeping his eyes trained to yours. He was subconsciously looking for any sign of discomfort- another testament to how caring he was, even if he didn’t recognize it. He gripped the backside of your knees firmly and dipped his head. That gave you enough room to pull yourself forward, wrapping your arms over his shoulders, mindful not to put too much pressure around his neck. You didn’t want to accidentally choke your knight in messy uniform.

“I hope I’m not too heavy,” you breathed against his neck. He shook off the shiver you caused with a hearty laugh.

“There’s no way you’re too heavy for the Great Mammon!” he protested, pulling you closer to him by your knees.

In one fluid motion, he hoisted you up and stood. He was pretty graceful for a “scumbag,” and you hugged yourself closer. Your chin found a home on his shoulder, slipping past the undone collar of his shirt, clinging to the warmth of his skin. Additionally, your arms were pushing his jacket further past his shoulders to his elbows, but there was no way he was going to complain. On the contrary, the pink gracing his cheeks proposed he liked the closeness. Well, that wasn’t very tsundere of him. Before you could catch it, a giggle slipped past your lips as he stepped out of the classroom.

“What’s so funny, human?” Mammon asked, nudging your cheek with his. You wondered if he could feel how he made your face hotter than hell. He must have because his step faltered.

“Nothing. Just thinking about how selfless you are.” That was sorta true.

Unlike the cheerfulness that rang from him before, his laugh was dull. He removed his cheek from yours and looked straight ahead.

“I ain’t selfless!” His hollow laugh died down, and he turned serious. “If anything, I’m selfish and greedy. I wanted to be the hero, I wanted to save you, and nobody else ain’t gonna get the chance to when I’m around!” His voice picked up when he finished, and his eyes were renewed with vibrancy as he looked to you. He cheered himself up with his own words, and his “greed” flowed from him like sweetness.

“Still, you’re sweet to help me. Thank you,” you cooed, connecting your cheeks once again.

This time, it was Mammy’s turn to erupt into a flustered state. He almost tripped over his own two feet, though he was careful to keep himself up. He was carrying precious cargo after all.

Upon delivering you to your dorm, the two of you spent the rest of the day watching your favorite shows and movies, eating your favorite snacks. Of course, Mammon argued he only allowed such thing ‘cause he liked them too.’

Lucifer's (Part 1): Pride In Arms

[mypersonmyg]

cherry blossom | jjk

pairing: jeongguk x reader

genre: fluff

rating: pg15

wc: 2k (yes it is a drabble shut up)

warnings: swearing

summary: spring is blooming and so are you OR he loves the beanie you knitted for his round ass head

a/n: hello, hi, hey...is this good? idk, but i wrote it because im trying to do that again; this is based on the tebori tapioca couple because i really like them a lot...ALSO i said i would write about beanie boy and here he is :D

tebori tapioca

masterlist

Petals dipped in white are decorated in the jagged pink crawling from the root of thin strengthened stems fluttering like wisps from trees freshly bloomed to kiss at your cheeks, tilted upward toward a sky painted in streaks of voluminous clouds. You lift one hand to trace the expanse of day, finger a brush concentrated on the perfect mural, eyes zeroed to see the work of the blue plained aerial. You grasp a stray petal mid-air, charting the exposure of edges fragile and torn from the efflorescent cherry blossom, its trunk the perfect home for the boy whose head appears anywhere but the moment. 

You bring the petal to trace his cheeks seeking the protrusion of his nose, effectively startling the stupor that held him captive. His eyes dance the length of your arm up to your collar, landing on your own gaze in wonder, always amazed by  feelings that engulf him like licking flames. He tilts his head until the warmth of his cheek rests in the palm of your hand, cradling perfection and its questioning peep. 

“Sorry,” You murmur, thumb soothing circles into pliable skin, eyes doubled in apology despite the fondness stretching the muscles of his face, tugging at the edges of his lids. 

“Don’t be,” He hushes plucking the petal, blowing it into the subtle breeze that kicks at the skin of your ankles, traveling the length of your leg, ignorant to the tingle that already resides from the steady grip of a tattooed hand tracing the skin exposed from the ride up of your hoodie. “We came here to be together and I’m zoning out.”

You crook your arm into the grass, still damp from the press of morning dew, petals sticking to your palm as you push forward, Jeongguk cautiously tightening at your waist. The hand that still rests against his cheek sneakily climbs to tendrils peeking from beneath the beanie dressing his head, black knitted and all consuming, wrapping the strands of curls between nimble fingers and urging him to press his lips to your own. 

“I don’t mind, I’d rather sit with you in complete silence than listen to Jimin complain about whatever it is he was complaining about today.” You speak after the first heady press, foreheads gathered in collective rest, lashes just missing with each flutter. You can barely recall the words tumbling forward, but you can count on the attentive nature of your chosen lover to keep you on track, his eyes never missing the beat of your quivering lips. 

“Hmm, but i wanna give you all of my attention.” He pulls you so you’re falling, forcing you onto his lap of denim, your arms finding rest around his broad shoulders. He nestles his head into the crook of your neck, bringing light to the fabric engulfing his head of curls. 

It’s a recent niche, the adornment of the extra layer, a gift from you meant to reside on the side of winter wardrobe. It dresses him well, mirror selfies and dates spent walking the string lit streets of your cozy strip not without the attention of head-on-a-swivel passersby. You don’t mind the look or the attention that you believe present without the added statement, but you often miss the ease of a hand through thick curls and the added volume on humid occasions. 

“Now who’s zoning?” Jeongguk teases, nudging the underside of your chin, fingers retreating to avoid your gentle nip. 

“I was just thinking about you,” Your words are spoken with lips folding inward to rest between the set of your teeth, hands tugging at the top of his hat, almost pulling it free before he swats at your offending limb tugging it back into place. 

“Oh yeah?” You arch into him when a sudden gust of wind wraps around your bodies, biting at your arms left exposed by your insistence of warmth from the saturation of rays that swallow you whole, only missing direct contact by Jeongguk’s insistence that you seek refuge in the crowding branches of the beautiful earthy growth of the ascending blossom. 

“Yeah, you and your beanie. Why won’t you let me see your cute ass head, you nerd?” 

“Excuse me? I like the beanie, it was a gift you know.” 

He’s proud of his counter, head resting against the trunk of the tree before he’s suddenly guiding you from his lap to join in the jump to his feet. You’re like jello, too long spent lounging in the thick of your bubbled comfort, nearly knocking into him out of the habit of proximity and lack of control over your physical being. 

“Not only was it a gift,” He continues, clasping your hands, swinging it between you as you once more find the path riddled with abandoned flowers and the remnants of blades from grass freshly mowed, the smell still lingering with each foot forward. He brings your connected palms to press to his lips, holding them in place for a momentary hum before your nerves are tingling under the sensation and you're trying your hardest to pull away amidst  squealish giggling. “It was handmade.” 

You stutter, feet catching at the tip, threatening to eat concrete were it not for the quick reflexes and unbridled strength of Jeongguk’s arms. He drags you from the center of the path, the resounding tinkering of a child’s bike bell screaming to make way for the train of tasseled training wheels that are suddenly on your trail. It gives you time to recompose, Jeongguk far too busy waving in kind at each passing darling regarding him with various poked tongues and toothy grins. 

“Babe, you good?” He finally returns his attention, the rough pad of his thumb coming to swipe at the hairs that fall from the folded lip of the beanie, tickling at the plains of his forehead that hold just enough sheen from the day's heat to allow the dense fibers to stick to his skin. You fight the temptation to replace his hand with your own, always happy to feel him beneath you, feening for the closeness of closed doors and your head tucked beneath his chin, fingers tracing the ever defining muscles that tease through his t-shirt. 

“I’m fine...I just didn’t realize you noticed.” You shield yourself in the thick of his hoodie, tugging the sleeve to hide your eyes from his prying gaze and infectious grin. You question your own sanity when the remembrance of his attentive nature and the dreamy sigh he’d emitted upon the first snug of the thick fabric to his skull, only compliments spewing thereafter. 

“That I noticed...?” You’re dim witted to the point of ignorance, though his bait works as your face slowly unsticks from the dark material eating his chest, replacing your face with the wrap of your knuckles and the avoidance of eye contact in favor of tracking a peculiar worm inching toward fresh dirt. 

“Koo…” You whine, the nickname and high pitched yearning a new habit Jeongguk has taken in kind. His adoration for you only grows more with each day, your habits taking hold of him like the magnet that you are, an attraction unyielding and all consuming. Some would say that it’s a sickness, but the rapid pump of his love organ and the coos that ooz from him with the precision of a clock at your every utterance feels wholesome.

You’re home, a refuge after long days of piping tea and pounds of tapioca, waist deep in the give and take of the service industry. The only being that makes him feel like giving his all is no effort wasted, always looking for more ways to please even with your assurance that just  halfway makes your heart soar into a galaxy of his own making. 

So he grips you tight and reels you in, inhaling the scent of the light shampoo that laces your scalp and pretends that your whines are only an amusement, a reason for the further push of his pestering. His hands trace the peak of your shoulder blades, easing them of the tension from your bout of shyness. 

“Love, why wouldn’t I notice? Why do you think I love to wear it so much?” 

“Because you’re perfect,” You melt, shuffling on the balls of your feet, hands shoved into his pockets to hold steady in a world constantly rotating around you, dressed in whites and pinks, the songs of birds humming in the trees that arch above you. “But seriously, how did you know? I didn’t say anything because I don’t think it’s very good and I almost didn’t even give it to you because—”

“It’s perfect.” He cuts your words with his own followed by a kiss, much longer than the one previous, your face heating under the awareness that you’re no longer shielded by bud kissed branches in your own corner of the world. The same corner that started it all just months prior. 

Your palms rest against his chest, a gentle pat urging him to part from you despite your own inward cries of the opposite. He obliges, a smile of coyness splayed along his cheeks, pushing at the scar that kisses the apples of his skin. 

“What?” 

“I did notice an attempt at the stitching of initials under the lip...still need some practice I see—”

“Love, that’s so mean!” Your pats previously gentle now offer as much force as  you can muster, easily sending him staggering on his feet, too consumed by his own childish laughter at your rather rugged stitchwork, a poor attempt at further customization. “Ugh, I didn’t think you would notice.” 

He pulls the beanie from his head, hair falling in a mess of dark curl that traces the frame of his cheeks, somehow rounder today than the chiseled jaw that you often find ingrained in your memory. You ache to take him between your palms, a smattering of kisses stored for later use when you aren’t teetering the precipice of embarrassment. A feeling of routine self indulgence that is altogether useless under the watchful eyes of the dream before you.

He delicately dips his finger into the folded hem of the hat, lengthening the elastic trim that suctions around him to keep it secure around his head. He traces the thread that just barely makes out the letters initialling his name, imagining the formation of your lips as you repeat the two syllables with the puncture and withdraw of every stitch. 

It’s clear as the blue dyed sky, the vivid poke of your lips when you realize the curve of the ‘J’ is more of a divot than a definition but push on to the ‘K’. You only add the extra inches when your mind begins to overthink when in truth he’ll love anything from your hands, from your mind and the blood pumping through your veins. 

It wasn’t the accidental revelation of the stitching when he pulled it from the first wash that clued him in. The fabric unfurled from its position of origin, the letters staring back, accented with the perfect attempt at a heart stitched in white. 

No, he finds solace in the patch of thread missing from the edge of the shape meant to mimic the geometry of the organ itself.

It speaks true to the way he feels when he’s not with you, like his heart couldn’t possibly be whole when he’s not taking in the breathlessness of your laugh or the way you pout his name without warning. 

It was the tremor in your hands as you delivered the gift wrapped in faux gold, edges of the paper curled from the lack of a package and a mind too jumbled to think of a bag. Your delivery paired with the fumble of words hushed in rushed breath was clue enough of your attempt at discretion.

It’s in these moments, hat in hand and your eyes scrutinizing the thing when you’d told him how handsome it made him look just weeks prior. He gently pinches the scrunch of your nose, forcing your eyes to his own, hat pulled back over his head. 

He doesn’t miss the quirk of your lips, the hat no longer an object of disdain when it's a part of him. The day you met was the day that you made your place within him and it's in moments like these that he feels whole. 

“I can’t believe you thought for a second that I wouldn’t.”

[glitterge1pen]

Hello? I Am Calling To Remind You Of Your Local Skating Rink.

Kyōtani Kentarou x reader, sfw, fluff, 1,686 word count 

"I have a question"

Kyotani never answered or called with a "hello" or "hey". He would immediately get to the point of the conversation.

"Yes?"

You respond with, trying to be light hearted, unsure what Kyotani was going to say next.

"Do you...do you, shit, fuck, uh"

When he had called you, you had been taking a break from the show you were watching to grab a drink from the fridge. Upon hearing his nervous line of questioning you perk up in interest, propping yourself up on the open fridge door.

"Yes?"

You say again, unable to hide the slight teasing nature of your voice.

"Listen, I swear to God if you laugh I'm going to kill you just so I can piss on your grave,"

"Okay , okay, I give in, I promise I won't laugh"

You hear Kyotani sigh, he sounds very small when he finally chokes out his words.

"Do you know how to roller skate?"

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

At 2:00pm on a weekday the rink is mostly empty. You had managed to weasel your way out of work to indulge Kyotani. You had met him outside the rink. He stood underneath the rotting neon lights that didn't hum during the day. His hands shoved in his pockets, his gaze scanning the parking lot looking for you. When he saw you approaching he turned away, a look of regret and embarrassment on his face. But you did your best to reassure him before going in.

"I'm not gonna let you fall or anything, and I'm sure you'll be good at it anyway,"

Kyotani pays for both of you even when you try to shove the five dollar admission fee into his palm. A nostalgic feeling takes over you as you take in the rink. The bright patterns dancing on the black faded carpet, the sound of kids slamming on top of the prize counter, the whiz of skates gliding over the floor, the butter smell from the popcorn, the flashing lights of the arcade cabinets.

"What size skates do I get?"

Kyotani says leaning close to your ear so that no one else can hear his question. You point out the size chart that rests behind the skate counter. You get the skates for both of you while he leans on the wall of the rink. Watching the one young family, two teenage girls, and one lone adult, move around the pond of concrete. You place the skates onto the white painted brick with a heavy thunk.

"You need help with those too?"

You say a laugh spilling through your teeth.

"Shut up,"

Is all he says as he begins to lace up. While he puts the skates on you throw your belongings into a locker with his. You toss the key to him, telling him not to lose it.

"You ready?"

You ask, hand extended to his. Kyotani sits with his hands pulling at the fabric of his jeans. His knuckles white, his face scrunched up in determination and fear. When he finally puts your hands together, he pulls on you so hard that you tumble down onto him.

"Hey, hey, calm down, not so hard"

You say as you untangle your arm from his shoulder, maneuvering your face so that you don't have to look at him. One of your arms propping you up on the bench he had been sitting on. You regain your stance and extend your hand to him one more time. He's not as rough, pulling only as much as needs too in order to stand.

"See, not so bad right?"

Your words hit the floor with Kyotani because as soon as he's on his feet they slip out from under him. You pull up on his hand, trying to keep as much of him in the air as you can. His eyes are wide, his mouth pressed into a tight line like he's trying to keep in a scream. You decide maybe talking isn't the best. Kyotani is stiff as stone once he regains his compurse. Refusing to scoot one bit from the position next to the bench. Well maybe giving him one little shove wouldn't hurt.

"If the team is going out roller skating, doesn't that mean Tsukishima will be there?"

Kyotani moves. Or rather he grabs hold of your arm, his chest clinging to your shoulder, his head next to yours, like the more of you he can touch the less of him will fall.

You pick up your foot, hovering it just barely over the carpet. Kyotani does the same. You put your foot down and so does he. Then you very slowly push back, rolling the slightest.

You and Kyotnai do this over and over. Eventually he can stand up straight again. But his grip is still tight on your wrist. You try to pull away from him, you want to show that he is more than capable of skating. Each time you lean away he follows like a magnet chasing after its other half. So you let it happen.

"Do you wanna try getting on the floor now? The carpet really drags you down when you skate on it. You think you ready for the real deal?"

Kyotani shifts his eyes from you to the flashing lights that graze over the rink floor like cows in a field. Hues of green, red, blue, lines of pink that fizz to nothing in the air. From the distance you're at now the bass of the music is just distant tremors and waves, you're sure that on the floor it's booming.

He nods.

You guide him to the step that drops onto the smooth concrete. The family that's two toddlers and their parents stick to the middle of the ring, not making full circles, while the two girls move slowly, their arms chained together as they talk and skate. The other adult there moves so gracefully that they are practically invisible as they weave between nothing and twirl around the edges of the rink.

You stumble just a bit when you meet the surface of the rink, the texture so different from the carpet. Kyotnai also fumbles, but his misstep is more drastic. He falls onto you this time, his body weight catches you off guard, you bend your knees as best you can barely stopping the two of you from toppling onto the ground.

"I fucking hate this,"

Kyotani says with a groan as he tries to separate himself from you. But his arms are shaking just a bit, his legs not yet having fathomed skating. He'll pull away, only to pull back to you. For the first time the uneasy expression he's had since he got there, is replaced with frustration.

"Hey, you're skating!"

You tell him with delight. He freezes. Suddenly forgetting what he had been doing. You start dragging the wheels of your skates on the floor, his hands clasp onto your wrist at the movement. He lets you tow him across the length of the rink. At the turn, you pry one of his hands from you, forcing him to lead into the next bend.

He teeters a bit. When he successfully makes the turn his arms raise in accomplishment. Lost in his own excitement he has let you go. You stay put waiting for him to notice. He takes two and half steps without you. Once he realizes that you are no longer by his side, he whips his head around to find you, which is the same time he falls right onto his ass.

You drift over to him. Offer your hand. He grabs it, the Kyotani you normally see having emerged. He is no longer afraid or timid, he looks like him. He says nothing to you once he's back up. A fierce glimmer in eyes, one you recognize from the moments before he scores a point or spikes a ball.

Kyotani staggers in his first few steps. But then he's fine. He wobbles around the corners of the rink, he definitely shouldn't join a derby team any time soon but he’s sufficient and beyond satisfied. You will sometimes pull ahead of him, not on purpose you are just better on the skates still. You'll wait on the wall for him to catch up.  

"Stop doing that I hate it"

"What?"

"Waiting for me, just skate"

"It's no fun that way though"

"Then let me do that thing again"

"That thing?"

You ask confused. Kyotani huffs, seemingly annoyed that he has to explain himself. He grabs onto your arm like how he had been doing before. Now that he has better grasp on skating you two make easy laps. You still guide and steer. Reminding him to keep his knees bent, and if he doesn't listen you knock into him with your hips, trying to prove your point. Occasionally he will trip only the smallest bit and you still rush to try to hold him, trying to pinpoint where you should grab on to him.

Eventually time is up though. The bright overhead lights flicker on. The DJ booth cuts the music short. You blink trying to adjust to the sudden change in scenery. Your body feels hollow without the buzz of the music and the click clack stomps of your skates hitting the floor.

"Thanks for doing this"

"No problem-"

You're cut off by your back wheels not making it over the step that leads to the carpet. Kyotani instantly reacted when he heard the hitch of your voice, his arm straining to grab the nape of your neck, luring you closer to his chest. His other hand holding onto the brick wall that lines the rink.

"Don't do shit like that! That's like the hundredth time you've fallen today"

Which is an absolute lie, because the only times you wiped out where when you were trying to save him.

"And how many times did you fall?"

You say shoulder checking him as you glide past slowly over the confettied drawn carpet.

"Not once"

He tells you with a confident smile.

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

A/N: Did somebody say circumstantial physical touch? Me. I did. De La Souls ‘Saturday’ and Fantaisa’s ‘Hood Boy’ were crucial for writing this because IMAGINE SKATING AND THOSE SONGS COME ON????? Got a new phone case and put my Zuko sticker that Ive been saving for like six months in it. Got a paper cut today???? Lots of sunlight today so I liked that. Anyways I need to go to fucking bed. 

[actress4him]

The Barn 4 - The Pole

(Prompt #1 for Summer of Whump)

Yes, I’m coming in at the last minute with one more Summer of Whump prompt, and yes, it’s prompt #1. Also, if you read more than one of my series I’m sorry that this one is kinda like that one chapter of In Irons...? But I actually thought of this one first, and yes, it was inspired by Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron.

Previous | Next | Masterlist

Warnings: captivity, restraints, dehumanization, references to beating, mild blood, starvation, dehydration, nausea, emeto, fainting, heat exhaustion/stroke, probably medically inaccurate

.

.

Stetson dropped Jacob’s foot, and another puff of red dust went up into the air, joining the cloud that his body had created as it was dragged. It would have been the perfect time for him to leap up and try to run again, but he couldn’t move. His everything ached.

A second later a leather-clad hand gripped his arm and yanked him upright. Jacob’s head swam with the swift change in elevation and his nose throbbed. While he was busy trying to get the world to stop spinning around him, Stetson roughly pulled his arms behind his back and started winding rope around his wrists.

Fantastic. He hadn’t even gotten to enjoy them being free.

Once they were thoroughly wrapped and the rope pulled tight, Stetson stood, taking the tail end with him and jerking Jacob’s arms backwards in the process. He cried out in surprise, and tried to get up. His legs only cooperated enough to scoot him back a few inches, but it was enough to let his arms rest against his back again.

Whatever Stetson was doing, he finished up and came back around to squat in front of his captive, arms propped across his knees and brown eyes studying him just as emotionlessly as ever.

“Maybe a few days of this’ll teach you some manners.”

“Doubt it,” Jacob immediately shot back without thinking. “My mom’s been trying to teach me manners for twenty-six years. I wouldn’t count on a few days making much of a difference.”

Stetson huffed very lightly, something that almost could have been taken for a laugh if Jacob wasn’t positive the guy didn’t know how. “We’ll see.”

Straightening with a quiet popping of joints, he turned and strolled away.

There was no way he was just leaving Jacob alone and able to run off. Craning his neck painfully around, he finally took a look at what was behind him. A post. A wooden post, probably coming up to around his shoulders. And the rope that was tying his wrists was looped through a metal hook in the top and knotted.

Okay, no problem. Jacob was good with his hands, he had nimble fingers from spending all day typing code. Struggling to his feet, he bent over forward so that he could reach and felt his way up the rope until he reached the knot, fingers fumbling around it, trying to get a sense of where it started.

Instead, he found a padlock.

Jacob let out a frustrated scream, the first time he’d actually had a chance to vent his feelings since this whole nightmare began. It felt good enough that he did it again. Then he ran forward, as hard as he could, as if he was somehow going to break the rope or pull the post out of the ground instead of nearly ripping his shoulders out of socket when he abruptly reached the end of his lead.

Tied to a stupid pole like...like a horse, or a dog. He was a human, dang it! Who did these people think they were, treating another person like this? The last…forty-eight? seventy-two? He didn’t even know how many hours anymore...had been completely flabbergasting, just seeing the sheer number of people who thought this was perfectly okay. And now he was stuck, in the middle of nowhere, with some psychopath who thought he was gonna what, train him? To do what, he didn’t even want to know.

Night was falling by then. Jacob was beyond exhausted, and resigned himself to sinking back down to the dirt, resting his back against the pole and getting as comfortable as possible.

The next day dawned with little sleep having been found. The sharp pains of yesterday had given way to stiffness and aches that made it hard to pry himself off the ground. His face was coated with dried blood and who knows what else, making him sticky and disgusted in addition to everything else.

He’d really never liked the outdoors that much. He was much more at home inside, in front of a computer. The outside had far too many things that could get you dirty, like, you know, dirt, for instance, like the kind of dirt he was currently sitting on and covered in. Most of his friends growing up had been your typical rough-and-tumble boys who lived for mud puddles and rolling down grassy hills, but Jacob had never been able to stand the feeling of being dirty.

Sweat was a thing encountered more often outdoors, too, and was just as bad as dirt. He could feel it, collecting underneath his shirt as the sun rose higher in the wide, blue sky. There was nothing in the way of shade in this field. Just dirt, dust, and more dirt, all surrounded by a wooden fence. A corral, probably. Meant for horses, not people.

The heat only grew more intense as the day wore on. There was no sign of Stetson, no indication that he would be bringing food or water or coming to untie him. Jacob hadn’t had anything to eat since this whole thing had begun, and no water since before the auction. His tongue was beginning to stick to the roof of his mouth.

He tried pacing around the pole, circling until the rope was tightly wound one way before turning and going the other way. His brain wasn’t used to boredom. There was always something to think about, always something to do. But now the only thing to think about was how absolutely screwed he was, and that wasn’t helping anything.

He tried pulling some more, too, not running this time, but turning until he could grip the rope in his hands and tugging backwards with all his might. Which, to be honest, wasn’t a lot. He was a computer geek, okay, working out wasn’t high on his list of priorities. The moral of the story was, pulling on the rope did nothing but make his back and arms ache even more.

The heat and the lack of stimulation made the day drag on and on forever. Jacob’s stomach moved from groaning to aching to roiling. If there had been anything in it, he was sure it would have been expelled. His head pounded something awful, and he wasn’t sure whether it was from heat or light or lack of water or having it repeatedly bashed in the day before.

By the time the sun finally started to sink beneath the horizon, his clothes were soaked with sweat, which was not only gross but also turned cold once night fell. He never thought that he’d actually miss the sun once it was gone. But now he was shivering, and the headache hadn’t gone away, and his stomach felt like it was trying to turn itself inside out, and he was pretty sure there was dirt in his mouth, and he was completely, totally, miserable.

Day two was somehow even worse than the first. Jacob tried standing up and stretching his legs, walking around the pole again, but he was so dizzy that he collapsed right back to the ground. Groaning, he dropped his forehead against the pole, grinding particles of dust further into his skin.

His...dry...skin. He didn’t know much about health and science, like, at all, but he was pretty sure not sweating in this heat was not a good thing. He almost felt cold still, like the chill of the night was clinging to his skin.

Hours dragged by. Every time he swallowed, it felt like nails going down his throat. Moving his head in any direction made the world swim around him, the blinding rays of the sun making spots dance across his vision. His stomach kept feeling worse and worse until he finally ended up folding over, retching uselessly again and again until every muscle in his torso was on fire and his head felt like it was exploding.

His only vague thought was, am I gonna die? before he fell face-first into the dirt and passed out.

A blast of cold woke him. He tried to gasp for air, but instead inhaled a mouthful of freezing water, sending him into a coughing fit that racked his sore stomach muscles. But the water just kept coming. It was harsh enough that he couldn’t even sit up against the onslaught, not that he was sure he had the energy to, anyway. The spray scoured every inch of his bare skin, leaving it stinging from both the pressure and the cold.

But it was water. Sweet, beautiful water. As soon as he stopped coughing he tried his best to gulp it in, letting the cold coat his scratchy throat.

He wasn’t sure whether to be disappointed or relieved when the spray finally stopped. Bringing up weary, unbound hands, he wiped the drips from his eyes, blinking blearily up at Stetson, who dropped the hose and stared him down.

“You didn’t last as long as I had planned.”

“M-maybe…” His voice came out as a croak, and he attempted to clear it. “Maybe you should try some...food ‘nd water. Haven’t...had any of that in a while.”

Stetson continued to stare with crossed arms for another moment before walking over and grabbing onto his ankle again. “You just had your water. Maybe you can have food tomorrow. We’ll see how well you behave.”

Ignoring Jacob’s weak protests and attempts to fight, he dragged him away from the doorway of the barn and into a nearby stall. Iron bars reached from the half wall up to the ceiling, giving it even more of a prison cell feel. The only good news was that he didn’t bother to tie him up this time, just threw him inside and left, shutting the door with a deafening creak and an ominous click.

[the-ship-maker-2]

College! Dr. Smiley HCs

-Emo

-always has been always will be

-he was the intimidating type.

-like if looks could kill his would

-so he didn't have a lot of friends because he was difficult to approach.

-so how he managed to get EJ, Amelia, and yes even Locklear to stay he'll never know.

-sleep-deprived. sleep schedule was and still is non-existent.

-He has mixed monster and coffee together and said "I'm going to die" and then proceeded to chug it

-yes this was before a final

-stayed in his room and avoided everything and everyone only focusing on schoolwork unless EJ wanted to hang out or need help or if Amelia dragged him out to at least get some fresh air in and a little bit of socializing in or if Locklear managed to piss him off enough for him to storm out and correct him.

-Although with Amelia around his extracurricular activities made him look good.

-He only stuck with EJ because he was actually a decent kid and needed protection from Locklear's bullying towards him.

-He met Amelia on her first day there. It seemed like she sought out the most social outcast and difficult person to befriend and took that as a challenge.

-She immediately adopted EJ as her son so that caused her to stick around more and no matter how much Smiley insulted her and pushed her away she stuck around even more. She just did not get that social cue and she was still determined to befriend him.

-They shared custody of EJ

-overtime he grew to appreciate her childish nature and her non-stop talk of her hyperfixations and ideas and dreams which was refreshing compared to the stuck-up, boring people he was constantly around.

-he had to constantly remind her to breathe, eat, study, sleep, shower and drink.

-but what really made him fall in love with her was her heart of gold and her good-natured beliefs and an optimistic attitude.

-and she loved him back

-though she was notoriously hard to flirt with and oblivious to any advances

-lots of love letters back and forth although both were too afraid to make the first move to make it official until it was too late.

-she was the only one to make him become soft and melt

-Teachers weren't really too fond of Smiley because he was a smart ass towards the teachers and did everything right just not in the way they were teaching. constantly arguing with them and he wasn't exactly warm towards his practice patients.

-he's more of a rough and tumble doctor.

-although he has more of an antisocial personality and is not exactly the most approachable he's a lot of fun at parties when Amelia dragged him and got enough alcohol in him.

-he's either competing with others or Locklear in drinking games.

-Locklear and Smiley were more of academic rivals and frenemies.

-there were many reasons why he didn't like him

-he bullied EJ because he was the youngest student in the program and Locklear is an elitist and believed at the time that only the best of the best should be in there not some pipsqueak.

-He also kept trying to flirt with Amelia and tried to steal her away from him. Even though Amelia was oblivious to Locklear's flirtations.

-He was also a frat boy trust fund baby and ACTED LIKE IT

-Amelia didn't act like a spoiled little rich girl even though she was loaded.

-Locklear flaunted that shit like it was going out of style

-he was an obnoxious know it all to Smiley

-And his cool, calm, collected, and arrogant demeanor constantly pissed him off.

-yet Locklear continued to stick around and proved his usefulness and Smiley just grew tired of trying to keep him away and just let him be

-They became known as the college gang or the big four.

-Smiley is just a nickname that everyone else gave him in college out of irony that he rarely smiled and he just didn't care enough to do anything about it and it just stuck.

-Smiley lived the broke college life of eating nothing but ramen and spagehttios and ravioli

-sometimes Locklear cooked for all of them since he's the only one with cooking experience in the group.

[tbtssstuff]

Wings of an Angel || pjm

↣ Summary: You didn’t know anything about ballet, but Jimin was desperate for a partner. Even if that meant dancing with a hip hop delinquent.

🎵 Four: I hate you

↣ Pairing: Ballet Dancer!Park Jimin x Hip Hop Dancer!Reader

↣ Genre: Social media au, Fluff, Angst, SMUT IN THIS CHAPTER

↣ Word Count: 1.6k

↣ Warnings: Thigh riding, sub Jungkook, brief hand job, switch reader, dom Jimin being manipulative to get what he wants, dirty talk, Jimin being a bit of a dick

Masterlist

-TJ/ TacoAdmin🌮

You couldn’t believe that Jungkook was being a big baby about not sleeping with you. Yeah you were one of the best lays on campus, but still.

Though you can’t deny that the thought of Jungkook whining and begging for your touch didn’t turn you on. Whenever you hear about his sexcapaides, since your school is nothing if not discrete, he’s always been the typical dominant man so thinking of him being your sub made your panties soaked.

Jungkook’s dorm comes into view and it just excites you even more. Why didn’t you do this sooner? Well you guess if you did then he wouldn’t be willing to worship the ground you walk on.

Nothing could ruin this night.

Well nothing except running into Park Jimin in the elevator.

“What are you doing here?” He asks as you lean over to press a floor button, his eyes lingering a little too long on your exposed chest.

“Here for a friend and a night of fun, something you have no idea about.” You smirk as you see Jimin roll his eyes. 

“How did you like walking here wet?”

This little man (it didn’t matter if he was three inches taller than you) had the audacity to say that to you? What made it worse was that it was funny and you snorted.

“Nice comeback.”

The elevator door opens and you step out, Jimin hot on your heels. “Why won’t you be my dance partner?”

“Because I don’t know ballet Jimin. You know I don’t do sequences and frilly skirts. Unlike you.”

“That was one time and it was for a competition.”

You snicker as you stop in front of Jungkook’s door, knocking on it before turning back to Jimin, leaning against the frame. The last thing you wanted was for Jungkook to open the door, sending you tumbling backwards into his room. “Yeah but you just looked so gay. If I didn’t know you any better I would have sworn you were. You are super close to that Taehyung guy.”

Jimin’s face reddens a little, but he keeps his composer. “Tae is just a friend and you know that I am far from gay.”

He was right and you knew it. While you told your boys that Park Jimin was a bad fuck he was actually one of the best you’ve had. Jimin lived to please, his long fingers, plush lips, and skilled tongue was your undoing. He usually had you cumming before you even knew what happened.

Not that you would ever admit it to his arrogant ass.

“Whatever.” Was all you got a chance to say before Jungkook opened the door, his eyes trailing down your body and back up. “Finally Kook.”

“Sorry it took me so long, princess.”

You smile. “Cute, but don’t call me that. Bye Park.” You wave and make your way into Jungkook’s room, him shutting the door behind you.

“So..” Jungkook starts. “Jimin?”

“Don’t even get me started on him. Now come here.” You pull at the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer. “I want these clothes off and you on the bed.”

Jungkook is quick to follow your orders, his shirt already gone by the time he got to the bed. Ever the eager bunny.

You make your way over to him, crawling up the bed to situate yourself on his strong thighs. God they felt magical against your pussy, just like you thought. You hum happily as you grind down on him, enjoying the intake of breath Jungkook takes, his fingers gripping your hips.

“God…” He breathes, flexing his leg, making you whimper a little, “You have got to be the sexiest woman I’ve ever met.”

sexiest woman I’ve ever met.”

You lick your lips, racking your nails down his chest, a grunt coming from Jungkook.

“Oh trust me,” You purr, leaning in close, your lips just inches from his, “I know.”

Without a second thought you smash your lips against his, slipping your tongue into his mouth and lowering yourself to continue to grind on his sculpted thighs.

This wasn’t the first time you’d slept with one of your friends. They were hot and you had needs and thankfully so did they, but you had never taken Jungkook up on his pleas to sleep with you.

Why? While he acted like a big macho man, he was also a little bit of a softy and you were not nice during sex.

Jungkook whines when you card your fingers through his long black locks, tugging it harshly. You pulled away from him and admired how fucked out he looked, lips a little swollen, his eyes clouded by lust and he was completely out of breath.

“Mhmmm,” you kiss up his jaw, your hand moving to cup his very prominent bulge, “Look at you. Such a fucking slut.” Jungkook moans when you rub his cock through his jeans, the rough material feeling euphoric. “So needy and all I did was kiss you. How are you supposed to keep up, bunny boy?”

“I I can - ahh~”

You cut him off when you unbutton his jeans and stick your hand past his jean and into his underwear, taking a hold of his hard cock and pumping him a few times, making sure to swipe your thumb over his slip to gather the precum as lubricant.

Curses and your name seems to be the only words Jungkook knows since it’s the only thing coming out of his gaping mouth, drool falling from the corner of his mouth, and you were loving every minute of it.

But like all things, it comes to an end.

Not with Jungkook cumming, but with his phone blasting some god awful sound beside you guys.

Don’t answer it. Don’t answer it. Don’t…

“Hello?”

You groan, releasing his cock and falling on the bed beside him, the mood completely ruined.

“What? No I told you I couldn’t come in ton- Well yeah… Ugh fuck you too Frank! You owe me BIG.” Jungkook hangs up the phone and turns to you sheepishly. “Y/n…”

“Don’t.” You wave him off, “ Go on.”

“Thank you, I’m so so so sorry.” Jungkook leans over the bed, kissing you at first quickly, but then over and over again, like he couldn’t get enough of your lips. “We need to finish this one day.”

You get out of bed and push him towards the door, chuckling a little. “Go loser!”

Being the amazing friend you are, you got him out of his room and sent him off to work no matter how frustrated you were that you didn’t cum or have sex. Jungkook has a big cock from what you felt and your walls were clenching around nothing at the thought of him filling you up.

You groan once the elevator doors close and Jungkook wasn’t in sight. Looks like it was going to be you and your special happy toy tonight.

“Are you done already? I didn’t know Jungkook had a short fuse.”

“For your information.” You turn around to see Jimin wearing no shirt and leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. Seeing him caught you off guard a little. 

Jimin always had a nice body, toned and hard, and it was something you never got used to. You knew him when he still had a little bit of baby fat on him, it was cute, but since he seriously started dancing his body morphed into a greek statue.

“For my information?” Jimin smirks, knowing the effect he still has on you and it pisses you off. He had been the only man that had ever made you submissive and he still does.

You clear your throat, unknowingly rubbing your thighs together. “He was called into work, but I had him whining like a bitch in heat.”

Jimin chuckles, pushing himself off the wall and walking towards you. “Like I had you?”

“That’s not fair Jimin.”

“What I see is that you are horny as hell and your dick appointment is gone. You could always come back to my room, you know, for old times sake.”

You just wanted to smack that cocky smirk right off his face because if you know Park Jimin there will be a catch, but he knew you would agree to anything right now.

“Wouldn’t that be nice? I may not be your good whiny boy like Jungkook, but I can make you scream. My head buried between your legs,” You shiver as his fingertips lightly run up the side of your thigh, “fingers buried deep in that pretty pussy of yours, though I bet you would be stretched enough for me not to even need to. I bet I could just slide my cock into you and fuck you to next week.”

You whimper at the thought, your knees shake, threatening to give out. God everything he said sounded amazing and exactly what you needed. You hated that after all this time he knew exactly what to say to almost make you beg for him. No man has ever done that before, not even Yoongi or Hoseok when you slept with them, but here he was the angel of Big Hit University acting less like an angel and more of the devil.

“All you have to do is agree to be my dance partner and I’ll take you back into my room.”

“Fuck you Park.”

“Mhmmm is that a yes?”

“I hate you.”

“I need to hear it, Y/n.”

“Yes I’ll be your dance partner.. Now please fuck me before I go mad.”

Jimin motioned to his room, “Your wish is my command.”

Tag list: @ggukkieland @lovelyseomin @arcadechick @preciouschimine​ @staerryminimini​

[yolkyeomie]

Granter of the Stars | Jung Wooyoung

summary — glow in the dark stars are pretty on your ceiling, but wooyoung just makes them even prettier than normal

word count —2.3k words

pairing — wooyoung x gender neutral!reader

genre — fluff, friends to crushes(?), wooyoung isn’t as much of a menace to society as he normally is

disclaimer — i wrote this in two hours so it’s not beta read or spellchecked at all so if something looks wonky.... ignore it

“Be careful,” Wooyoung called to you, “if you slip and fall I’m not going to catch you.”

“Yes because that’s so reassuring to know,” you grumble, rolling your eyes at the boy who sat comfortably on your bed. You had invited him over to help with a new task you had given yourself, sticking glow in the dark stars and moons onto the ceiling of your room. It was supposed to be a fun bonding experience for the both of you and you yourself was super excited to place these all over your room after impulse buying them a week prior.

Instead of helping your cause, however, Wooyoung was simply watching you struggle to reach your disgusting popcorn ceiling. You had to stand up on your tippy toes to even touch the ceiling and you were standing on a chair to even make the impossible possible at the moment.

Sure, Wooyoung wasn’t that much taller than you were but his extra inches of height would have helped this process go by much faster than it was. All he had done since arriving at your house was slam face first into your bed and play on his phone the entire time.

“I should have just invited Seonghwa instead,” you teased, already catching the boy’s gaze on you at the mere mention of the older friend’s name. “Not only is he tall enough to reach the ceiling easier than me, but he also would have willingly helped me stick all of this up here.”

“Hey, I helped a little bit!” The boy complained, immediately trying to counter your argument.

You roll your eyes at his defensiveness, giving him one look over before peeling another sticker off of your sheet. “Really know? How have you helped me in the past hour and a half you’ve been in my house?” You ask him, reacting up on your tippy toes once more to stick the star securely into the ceiling.

“I read the directions on the package,” he confessed, “and then I shined a light on the stickers like the package had said. You know they’re supposed to be in direct sunlight or under a flashlight first in order to glow in the dark right? I bet you didn’t even know that’s how they worked.”

“My light is on either way,” you pointed out, gesturing towards the giant ceiling light that was hanging down and illuminating the room. “So whether or not you shined a light on the stickers or not they’d still light up.”

Wooyoung mumbled something under his breath, falling back into your sheets as he angrily picked up his phone and began to play with it once more. You were always the one in the friendship that would take the more logical approach towards things, never falling for his baby doll eyes and slickly placed lies. He hated it but he’d never have the guts to say anything about it to you. Not that he really had a chance to call you out on your immunity to him.

“Stop pouting,” you demanded, a smile growing across your face as you threw one of the sheets of stickers to him. Wooyoung barely caught them in time, tumbling off of your bed with a thud as a result. “What’s your zodiac sign?”

“Sagittarius,” the boy replied, rubbing his shoulder as he got off the ground.

“Alright then, go grab a chair and go to that side of the room,” you instructed, pointing towards the emptier side of the room that hadn’t been completely littered with stars yet. “Make your zodiac sign’s constellation on the ceiling and then I’ll let you chill out for the rest of the day. You’re not just gonna sit in my room and do nothing while I’m putting in all the hard work.”

“So mean,” he teased, but still obliging to your orders.

You finally put the boy to work, watching from the corner of your eye and catching Wooyoung stumbling around on the chair he was standing on. He struggled to find a good angle to start sticking the stars into the sky, not wanting his constellation to look a little wonky and mishappend if he didn’t do it correctly. He would lean back obscenely close to the edge of the chair; still maintaining balance but very close to tumbling off and hurting himself.

“Be careful,” you told him, a cheeky smile growing on his face as he reached up to stick a star on the ceiling, “if you fall I won’t catch you.”

He snorted in response as he slapped a few stars into the ceiling. “Wow… who knew my own words would come back to haunt me?”

For the next ten minutes there was a warm silence between the two, the type of silence where the quietness was welcomed instead of resented. It was a little odd, seeing as Wooyoung was known to be the louder of the bunch when it came to you and your friends but you guess even he can enjoy the tranquility of simply being in the presence of a friend. He didn’t even stop placing stars on your ceiling when he had finished recreating the Sagittarius sign, filling up the rest of the empty space without being asked to.

“Wooyoung, come here,” You asked of him, gesturing towards the bed where you sat with an almost blank sheet of stickers left. Cautiously the boy hopped off the chair, hitting the ground with a slight thump before scurrying over to your side. “Now sit there and close your eyes, oh and stay still while you’re at it.”

“Are you about to draw something gross on my face?” He questioned, sitting on his knees in front of you as his expression twisted with suspicion. “Because if you draw something inappropriate on my face, I’m going to draw something even worse on yours.”

“Oh shut up, even if I wanted to draw something stupid on your face no one would see it because you’re just going to go straight home after this.”

“Of course!” Wooyoung grinned, “I’d never give you the opportunity to embarrass me, it would give you too much power.”

“Shut up and close your eyes, idiot.” The boy giggled once more, a squeaky and childish laugh escaping his lips and he finally closed his eyes and kept them shut. As quickly and discreetly as possible you began to take the stars off of the sticker sheet, grabbing a hold of Wooyoung’s face and sticking them into his skin. You were surprised by the fact that they were staying on, seeing as though the instructions on the package had clearly started to not put the stars on your skin.

After a few moments of concentrated silence you scooted away from him, a smile on your face as you looked down at your masterpiece. “Perfect! Now open your eyes and turn off the lights.”

“Did you stick the stars on my face?” The boy questioned instead, cautiously touching his face and feeling the suddenly rough texture of his usually smooth skin.

“I had some left over and decided to use them up in a fun way,” you shrugged, “now you have glow in the dark star freckles! Now hurry up and turn off the lights so that we can see them glow.”

“Not yet!” He told her, scurrying over to where his chair had been and grabbing his sticker sheet. On the sheet were only two mediums stars left and he smiled back at her before saying, “an eye for an eye? A star for a star.”

“Oh come on! The glow in the dark stars aren’t getting pay back for—“

“—shut up and let me out on the stars!” You groan at his eagerness as he takes the last two stars of the sheet, wobbling over to your side and sticking them underneath your eyes. It was almost like he was mimicking the mole underneath his own eye with them, but giving you an extra one that glowed and wasn’t just there to elevate his attractiveness like his. “Perfect, now we can turn off the lights.”

“Finally!” You cheered, jumping up from your bed and scrambling towards the light switch. Wooyoung seemed just as eager as you were, pushing the chairs the two of you had used out of the way so that you could lay on the floor and stare at the final product that hung below you.

“One,” You began, glancing towards the boy to make sure he was ready.

The boy plopped down on the floor with a thud, laying down on the ground with his arms sprawled out, “Two.”

“Three!” The lights flashed off, coating the entire room in an ebony black for just a moment. It only took a few seconds for the stars on your ceiling to begin to let off a green hue, lighting up your room one star at a time and creating a similar sight to the night sky. Your eyes sparkled at the stars above you, catching the glow of the stars on your cheeks following suit with the rest of the stickers in the room. It wasn’t exactly like the real stars in the sky, but it was still a mystical experience despite the whole ordeal being set up by you and Wooyoung alone.

“It’s so pretty,” you manage to say, finally prying your eyes off of the ceiling to look towards Wooyoung. The boy was sitting up from where he had originally laid now his eyes glued to the ceiling and not even paying attention to the fact that his starry freckles were glowing with the same exact hue as the stars on the ceiling.

“Yeah, no kidding,” Wooyoung answered after a moment, turning towards you when he finally snapped himself out of his trance. He couldn’t help but snort as he watched you approach, pointing towards the stars under your eyes. “You’re glowing just like them!”

“So are you!” You countered. A small gasp of realization left his mouth as he touched the stars you had scattered around his cheeks, finally taking notice to the greenish hue he was emitting along with you. The two of you laughed together as you shined like the fake stars on the ceiling staring up at them in fascination.

“Now that you have stars in your room,” Wooyoung began, leaning back onto the floor to get a good view of the stars on your ceiling. On one side of the ceiling was his star sign, the constellation of Sagittarius and your star sign in the direct opposite side. You had totally forgotten you put your own constellation on the ceiling, you were lucky enough to point Wooyoung to a location where they’d be facing each other. “You think we can like… make a wish on stars in here or something?”

“You make a wish on shooting stars,” you clarify, “these are fake and don’t move at all.”

He snorted at your response, not taking any variation of no for an answer. “That’s a stupid, we don’t have to only wish on shooting stars to make them come true you know? In fact, I bet you could become your very own wish granted and make whatever you want come true without a shooting star!”

“Oh really now,” you ask him, entertaining his wild behavior.

“Of course!” Wooyoung declared, pointing to your constellation before explaining, “anytime you want your wishes to be granted, make a wish on your star sign and I’ll come running to fulfill it, got it?”

“But what if my wish is like… something super crude? Like what if I get asked to get kissed by my crush or something? How would you make that come true.”

“I’d just make you kiss me, duh.” He shrugged, taking you off guard for a moment. Wooyoung was so bold in his answers and for what? “I mean it’s not like you’ve got a crush in the first place! In all my years of knowing you, you haven’t liked anyone. Which is crazy, because not only are you constantly around me, the most attractive person you’ll ever meet, but you're also around my other friends who are also attractive but not as much as I am.”

“That confidence is going to get you hurt.” You remind him.

Though it seemed as though the boy didn’t care, smiling up at your starry ceiling and picking at the glowing sticker on his face. “This confidence is what got me here in the first place.”

You scoff at his words, not taking them to heart knowing how much it would boost the boy’s ego to know you knew his confidence was his charm. But he was just as human as you were, which meant that all confidence would come to an end eventually.

“Okay then,” you declared, sitting up straight and facing the glowing constellation on your ceiling. Wooyoung’s eyes followed you carefully in silent intrigue as you held your hands together and called out your wish to it. “I wish for Wooyoung the Sagittarius to kiss me and not bail out on it because he’s a wuss.”

The boy laughed at your wish, earning an annoyed glare from you almost immediately. What was so funny to him? “Oh my god, I can’t believe you fell for it,” He said between chuckles, struggling to compose himself for even a second. “You just fell for my trap card, Y/N.”

“I don’t think I’m understanding?” You tell him.

“I give everyone kisses so I wouldn’t just bail on you because I’m a wuss or something,” Wooyoung explained, scooting closer to you with a mischievous grin on his face. The light of the star stickers illuminated the browns of his eyes, exposing the eager and roguish glint in his eyes as he continued to speak, “but I’ve just been waiting for the right moment to give you one too.”

[jangofctts]

Tough Luck (Boba Fett x reader)

Rated: Explicit

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: Smut, violence, language, dry humping,  oral (m), sex with binders, vaginal fingering, mildly dubious consent, mild cumplay, more sexual favors (jfc), vaginal sex, consensual loss of virginity, 

Chapter (1)

a/n: howdy hey bucket fuckers. welcome to the second chapter!!! thank you so much for ms. @bobafctts​ for helping me THOT and help with the process of this bad boy in addition to @djxrxn​ whom ALSO encourages all these DISguSTAnG thots. love you, whores 🤠💖❤️ 

It’s a grueling ride to Coruscant. Even with a midway stop to refuel, it takes more than a couple weeks to arrive. 

You wish Boba Fett had thrown you into the carbon freezer. 

It’s...boring down here. 

The bounty hunter had left you alone, preferring to lock himself away inside the cockpit. Not like you’d want him anywhere but there, that is. He’s not some circus clown meant to entertain an impartial audience—you’re his quarry. A quarry worth a quarter million credits.   

The rare occasion you do see him is humiliating as is. Monitored refresher brakes and the singular hellacious shower incident. True, all he had done was wrestle your kicking and screaming self into the little cubicle then proceed to lock you in—and yet…Never in the entirety of your existence had you encountered anything more glacial than that water.  

Stars—you swear he has a direct pipeline to Hoth. 

With fingers frozen and teeth chattering so hard they rattled your skull, you made quick work of scrubbing at your hair and body. It’s a miracle you survived certain death by hypothermia, even more so you haven’t caught a cold in the following hours.   

There are limited chances to protest and rebel, close to zero in fact. He’s proven to be stronger on more than one occasion, man-handling and knocking you around like some squeaky toy left to be chewed on for some oversized loth-cat. 

He’s taken away the sole thing you’ve craved since coming aboard this ship; ripped it from your fingers and shattered it upon a duracrete floor. You’ve never chosen the petty undertaking after flustered nerves and lost arguments in life; it festers and twists into malice like a weight over your chest. But you’re no longer there. 

Here, after the first meal bar landed in your lap, you surrendered your pride and tore into that idle act of revenge.     

The meal bars thrown at your feet now begin to pile up; the one small defiance you can spare. It’s either this or throw your head against the wall until you pass out. Tragically and against your own volition, the imagery your brain provides for it forms a bubble of unease in the pit of your stomach. The sight of your own blood makes you queasy anyhow.   

It’s not ideal. You’re knifing hungry, but your act of defiance works. Faster than you’d originally thought as the second sleep cycle rolls around. 

Boba Fett’s spurs chink against the front of his boots, the glare of the shiny metal catching against the dim lighting. He doesn’t carry a meal bar this time. Instead all he brings is an ion storm filled with buzzing irritation you can feel crackle against your skin. Your eyes sweep up his figure as he plants himself before you, his head tipped down to meet your half-hearted glare.    

With a long sigh, squats and lifts up one the meal bars, the shiny wrapper crinkling under the pressure as he points it in your direction. “I’m not interested in delivering a corpse.”

“I’m not hungry,” you quip, turning your head to glower into the murky darkness of the ship. 

You jump, a pitiful squeak escaping your vocal cords as he throws the bar at your feet and lunges. His hand clamps around the binders, the roar of your heart deafening against your eardrums as he yanks you in close. 

“What is it you want?” He snarls, “A deal?”  

“I see how you treat your deals,” you bite back, straining against his grip. “You’re a liar and a cheat.” 

Boba wrenches you forward, the tip of your nose skimming the edge of the tinted visor from how close he leans in. “Careful, Rabbit. If I recall correctly, you offered me a favor not a contract.”

Despite the inky blackness of the visor, you could easily mistake it with the intensity of a dying star. You’re caught in that same familiar, lecherous pull from before. It feels wrong to be brought so close; like dancing over the serrated edge of a blade, not meant for a mortal soul to be wandering along.  

“I’ll ask again.” He states, the leather squeaking as his fingers clench tighter. “What is it you want?”

There’s no bargaining for a merciful death. You’ve seen how that would play out. All your cards are exhausted and spent and the only thing you’re left to bargain for are simple accommodation before you’re appointment with a firing squad.   

“No more binders. At least for more than a couple hours.” You rush out, afraid if you don’t speak with haste he’ll cut you off. “And...and I want a blanket. It’s—it’s cold.” 

He considers this, each second like a poorly wired hyperdrive—seconds from imploding. You let out a shaky breath as you catch the near imperceptible nod. “Is that all?” 

“Yes...I-I think.” 

He snorts. “You think? What else do you require, Rabbit?” 

You ignore the sarcasm dripping through the syllables like melted sugar. Be it intimidation or your own hormones betraying your rational mind, your eyes dip down. You curse yourself for his perceptiveness. 

It comes with the job you suppose. No one becomes the best bounty hunter in the parsec using untrained eyes.  

“You know, girl,” he chuckles, a gravelly rasp against the vocoder. “I could...return the favor.”

If you had it your way, wielding an iron grip of control on your own body, you’d stop the tidal wave of crackling arousal from licking at your heels and settling in the pit of your stomach. It’s a rush of electricity guilt yet you’re able to reign in your tongue and speak; as shaky and unsure as it is.  “What makes you think I want anything more to do with you?”

“There’s no harm changing your mind,” he says. Boba cocks his head to the side and rocks forward, capturing and twirling a lock of your hair around his fingers. “As you said—you’ll die soon anyhow.”

With a goading tug on your hair he sits up, the tinkle of his spurs filling the space as he saunters a couple paces away. He smooths a hand over a large cargo crate, the leather glove rasping against the wood and with a sigh, he sits. He settles his back against it, your eyes not once leaving his figure, entranced by each subtle movement and swish of his cloak that bunches beneath him.  

“Come claim your favor, Rabbit,” Boba purrs, crossing his legs and leaning further into the cargo crate. He’s awfully nonchalant—like a loth-cat furled out in the sun. Though you know, behind the undisturbed facade, one wrong move and he’ll pounce; sink those razor sharp talons into exposed flesh.   

“Anything?” 

If you could see his eyes, you imagine he’d be rolling them. He pats his thigh. “Why don’t you sit on my lap and then we’ll talk.”

You don’t think about the fact that this is worse than before. That you’re letting yourself clamber over his crossed legs and into his lap. You hate that the crackling fire, greedy and dark, burns through your core as if it had never had a taste of pleasure before.  

His hands skim up your thighs, covered and impersonal. You don’t let that kernel of disappointment wiggle into your thoughts—it’s bad enough you’re here. In spite of this, you think, fuck it. You might as well. Your life is such a shit show anyhow might as well indulge.   

You hiss in surprise as your crotch meets the unforgiving metal codpiece. “Take it off?” 

“You take it off, Rabbit.”

Your teeth clamp down into the inside of your cheek. Bastard. Cocky, smug, asshole—

The list could go on forever and despite the irritation snapping inside your chest like a cut wire, your fingers find the latches to the dark green codpiece. You’re rough taking the blasted thing off, delighting in the bounty hunter’s little chagrined grunt as you tug and pull without much caution. 

“Careful.” 

You shoot the best glare you can muster and stick your tongue out, jolting as his fingers dig into the flesh of your ass in retaliation. With a clatter the codpiece falls off; the thick swell of his cock creating an attractive line against the white fabric. 

The same trepidation returns. You’re digging your own grave here, shoveling through dirt and tough layers of gravel in order to toss yourself in. It shouldn’t be this easy to convince yourself to fall into those greedy claws of arousal.

“Well?” Boba challenges, snaking a hand around the swell of your waist. “Get moving before I change my mind.” 

“What do you suggest I do then?” You snip, exasperated by his indignant shrug. 

With a low hum he anchors his hold over your hips and yanks you further over his crotch. “You could be a good girl and get yourself off.”

You swallow, chewing on the edge of your lip. “Like this? Nothing else?” 

“I don’t know, Rabbit,” he sighs, “but it feels good, doesn’t it?” 

Before you can ask, he rolls his hips up, pressing the firmness of his cock against your covered cunt. You gasp and rock into him, a hand shooting out to grab at his shoulder pauldron. His snort of amusement only encourages your spiral into madness as he allows you to set your own pace; a timid and shallow undulation of you hips that only serves to amp up the craving and not sate it in the slightest.    

Stars, it’s hard to think like this. Every spark of pleasure is a catalyst to the inferno that tears through the fabrics of your being. It’s an effortless process to forget who you’re using to get off; easy to tumble into that pit of pleasure with each buck of your hips.      

Your cries are harsh, an incoherent string of curses and his name all thrown into one. Fuck—it’s blinding. The catch and pull of the fabric against your clit and the hardness of his cock that presses against your inner thigh; pitching quite an impressive tent in those creamy white trousers. 

It rushes up, searing and white-hot that’s got your whole figure into stiffening and catapulting into bliss. With a groan your head dips onto his shoulder, the scent of plasma and an undercurrent of smoke lingering on the fabric of his cowl. Your hips still rock into his lap, riding out the last dregs of pleasure. 

In retrospect you should have known. Deduced that this favor claimed as yours would shift into something completely his. He’s never satisfied with the terms unless he gets the larger cut. 

Just as your hips begin to slow, he readjusts his grip and grinds his straining cock against your sensitive pussy.     

Boba’s hands, one cradling your spine while the other clamps down over you ass is an anchor so unyielding it’d take a ship cutter to brake; he’s heaving your body into they jerky and erratic roll of his hips, too far gone to care about technique or poise. Just a means to an end—desperate for release. His breathy grunts reverberate through the vocoder, near deafening this close to your ear as the hand resting between your shoulder blades, latches onto the back of your neck. 

If not for the intensity of your orgasm, devastating and still wracking through your body in tiny jolts of lingering pleasure, you’d have fought his hold. Instead, you allow Boba to urge you forward, the cool metal a shocking contrast against your forehead in comparison to your flushed state. His own head is bowed against yours, playing into that foreign sense of intimacy as he finds his release. 

With a stuttered groan, his fingers harpoon into your flesh and cums. 

His chest heaves, fervent gulps of air harsh and distorted by the vocoder as he winds down from his high. You’re no better; your breath fans across the visor, the humidity painting a foggy layer of perspiration over the visor as your body still quivers with the aftershocks of pleasure. He’s the first one to part; jerks his head away as if you've burned him.   

In the following seconds, it’s as if your eyes are glued to that visor. There’s no telling wether you’re moments away from being slaughtered or allowed to sustain this little charade he’s put you through.    

“Oh, Rabbit…” A shiver tears down your spine as he glances between your bodies. There’s a wet patch, the fabric dampened by both your combined releases staining the front of his trousers. “What a waste.” 

You gasp as his hand curls around the column of your throat, your cunt clenching as the pressure tightens. With once last, teasing squeeze his fingers move to tangle into your hair. “Clean up your mess.” 

With a not so gentle yank on the strands you’re coerced into clambering off Boba’s lap. He guides your head forward, uncrossing his muscled legs to let you crawl up and settle between his thighs.     

Your hand quivers, somehow able to pop open the button and pull down the wet fabric. Smeared globs of his release stain the soft, dark skin, his cock still thick and swollen even after orgasm. Your tongue passes over your bottom lip as you lean in, a new, fresh wave of arousal carving through your frame. 

The taste isn’t horrid, still warm and mildly salty as you tongue laves at the crease of his thigh. Your tongue leaves a wet trail of saliva down to his balls, the skin velvety soft against your mouth. Boba jerks as you suckle them into the wet heat of you mouth, carefully swirling your tongue over them then tracing up to his softening cock. He grunts as you lick along his shaft, the flesh twitching as you lap up the rest of the sticky substance.   

Boba’s hand nudges at your forehead, then shifts and maneuvers himself out of your hold. Not a word is spoken as he pulls up his trousers and thumbs the button closed. He snatches up the codpiece laying pathetically on the ground and reattaches it around his groin. 

You don’t mean to flinch as he dips down—force of habit—even if all he does is reach for one of the abandoned meal bars. He pushes it into your hand; no room for arguments and perches himself against the cargo crate, one ankle crossed over the other as his arms fold over his cuirass. He dips his head, the message loud and clear to hold up your end of the deal. 

“You don't have to watch me eat,” you mutter, biting off the corner of the foil with your teeth to open it. You roll a piece of the pasty food into a crumbly ball between your fingertips then pop it into your mouth. You grimace at the taste. Bland. A bit like dirt. 

Except…dirt has flavor. 

Not to mention the fact that he won’t stop staring. Tracking every move—unsettling and curbing your appetite into a mess of anxious knots. You don’t like being analyzed and monitored like an ill-tempered child. It’s a long shot to ask and receive an answer, but you’re desperate for anything to fill the silence.  

“How did…um…you find me?” 

Kriff, you can’t even ask about anything normal, can you?

Boba cocks his head to the side, letting that unnerving quiet draw out until you’re sure he won’t respond. And then; “People leave trails. Even you, clever rabbit”

You force yourself to choke down another bite of the bar. “What was my trail then?”

You’re split between the desire to know what you did to ensure your capture while battling your queasy surprise that he’s chosen to indulge your questionings. “The pilot.”

A knife of dread, so sharp and swift it cuts through the layers of cartilage and bone; the blade lodging itself into your heart. “W-what?” 

“The Imperial one.”

Elliria Beren. Elli— 

No. No—that’s…he’s toying with you.  

Dantooine is the last place you saw her. Alive. Wild, auburn hair blown from her braids caused by the windstorm that swept up through the grassy plains; the clouds, colossal and dark, swallowed up the sun as they rolled across the horizon. Her flight suit was hastily thrown on, rumpled and against regulations in the rush to help you. She told you to run—stole the TIE fighter to give you one last, undeserved chance. 

It feels like a broken promise stapled to the roof of your mouth as your mind dregs up the remnants of that day. She’d thrown her arms around you, crushing you to her chest, smelling like oncoming rain, and that contraband perfume she’d bought on Alderaan; a delicate sweetness you can hardly remember.

With Elliria, there was no fear; cradled in her arms and severed off from the world. There, you've done nothing wrong, you are not being chased by some relentless terror. You could sleep inside that moment. You could live inside that string of seconds. It would be fine. It would be perfect. You could escape and mend you fragmented heart strings. 

But you’re not there. 

You’re here. 

Here on a bounty hunter’s ship. Here there is fear. There is great sorrow. There is a litany of sins and a throng of terrors devouring at your soul. You led her straight to her death. Right into the very jaws of the man who sits before you. You hadn’t even considered she’d be caught.   

Your stomach churns and coils as bile pricks at your throat. What have you done.  

“I found her on Tatooine,” Boba continues, either enjoying your obvious horror or unabashedly oblivious.

No. Stop fucking talking. You bite back a choked sob as he raises a finger, tracing it across his cuirass. There—alongside the braided pieces of hair mounted as trophies, sits a red and blue ribbon. How haven’t you seen it before? You were there when Elli was awarded the Imperial Medal of Valor—it’d been the first time you’d seen her smile in months.  

And now…now it hangs upon the pauldron of a bounty hunter as a conquest won. “She was a good shot—but I was better.” 

Your chest is a wall of fire; the air you breath constricted and hot as your throat mimics that of a too tight collar on a fancy suit. You don’t care that stinging tears spring from your eyes and carve burning paths down your cheeks. Grief and wrath spin inside your chest with the fierceness of a vortex all-consuming. You shouldn’t have asked. Shouldn’t have forced his hand into revealing that all you ever do is leave a wake of destruction behind you. 

The abrupt, sharp, buzz throughout the ship slices through your despair. The comm system is flashing, attempting to patch in a call. The moment he stands, your mind races with plots of vengeance. You have nothing but your fists, your sharp teeth and bitten off nails. You don’t care. 

He turns his back, his cloak rasping against the floor. 

A momentary lapse in judgment on his part to leave himself vulnerable to a quarry free from their binders. 

With a cry you launch yourself across the small space, hooking your arms around his neck. He shouts out a curse, the weight of your body causing his own to pitch backwards. All air punches out of your lungs as the back of your head cracks against the ground, the full weight of beskar platting slamming into your chest and stomach. 

Your hold around his vulnerable throat loosens, giving him more than enough wiggle room to spring up. Your fist snaps out, the skin over your knuckles splitting open as it connects with the sharp edges of his helmet. He scrabbles to contain your flailing hands, eventually ensnaring your writs between his fingers with ease. 

Bucking your hips and kicking your legs out does nothing to save you from Boba wrestling you onto your stomach, straddling your thrashing body, wrench up your arms, and snap out a new pair of binders. Boba snarls as your elbow manages to stab into a vulnerable gap in his armor, forcing him to throw his entire weight over you. 

You don’t mean to slam the side of your face into his helmet—hurts you more than it would ever him. But it’s satisfying to feel him jerk and hiss out a curse.

“Stop this.” He barks, digging his forearm harder into the flesh of your shoulders. “You’re only hurting yourself.”

The blooming mark forming over your left eye socket is proof enough. The most damage, if any, would show up as bruise from where his own beskar had brutalized the skin or where your elbow had connected on his ribs.  

You want to fight—tear into his flesh until he feels even an ounce of the kind of pain he’s caused. Instead, he chooses something different.    

“I’m sorry about your friend.”  

Friend doesn’t sound right. And lover too bold. Feels overly simplistic; shallow to what you had with Elli. Like glossing over a three hundred page holonovel. “I hate you.”    

There’s no malice, no gloating. Just...sincerity. “Truly, I am.”  

You don’t know what’s worse; the fact that there’s nothing to latch onto, bare your teeth and spit out words more jagged than broken glass or if it’s the hollow void that carves out the cavity in your chest. The frigid vacancy that follows after a forest burns; charred skeletons of a once lush forest. Everything in your life has been burned, flipped and torn inside out more than you care to think about. 

Stuck in that strange limbo between the devouring vortex of agony and revenge. Flirting with dull edged apathy that blankets the pain with buzzing static. 

You choose the latter. 

It’s easier.  

It’s not fair Elli is dead. But there’s nothing you can do to change what happened. 

Some of that pressure bearing down on your spine eases as your body goes lax. You’re not sure how much time ticks away as you lie there against the dirty floor. Enough time to count the screws connecting the durasteel walls and the individual planks making up a cargo crate. You don’t care that Boba Fett continues to maintain his precarious position seated on your thighs, or the inquisitive touch between your shoulder blades. He isn’t the one to hate in this situation. You are. 

That gentle, uncharacteristic touch smooths down the line of your spine, disappearing once it reaches your bound hands. 

“You’re such a tiny creature...” You don’t think it’s meant for your ears, more of an observation he lets slip than a conversation starter. Regardless, it sends a shiver from the base of your skull and down. 

With a curious hum, Boba shifts, slotting his hips against your ass. The added weight is uncomfortable, it digs your hip bones into the durasteel flooring. Yet, unlike the beskar codpiece supposed to be strapped to his groin, all you can feel is a different sort of hardness present.

“There’s still fight in you yet, Rabbit.” 

Your fingers curl into fists so tight the bite of your fingernails leave crescent shaped indents. His hands smooth along the waistband of your trousers, the soft leather tickling the sliver of exposed skin where you shirt became rumpled. “Does that surprise you?” 

He huffs. “No. But you could put it to better use instead of attacking me.”  

“Like what? Fucking you?” Bitter resentment builds like ash over you tongue, even if the idea of it sends a charged volt of interest down to your lower belly. 

Boba’s fingers crawl down your thighs. “I didn’t say that, but if you insist.”  

You scoff and wriggle. “You’re deplorable.” 

“Is that a yes, Rabbit?”

Maybe, you think as you nod your head, this will fill that torn void with temporary gratification. Steal away your thoughts and loose yourself something akin to the mind numbing affects of alcohol. 

Boba hums in acknowledgment, hooks his fingers around the elastic and yanks down, underwear included. You can feel the weight of his stare wracking down the newly exposed skin, pliable and wanton—and all for him. 

You squeak as he takes two, plentiful handfuls of your ass, spreading and massaging the flesh. It’s as if the only reason he exists is to torment you. Pull from you the embarrassed flushes and ashamed squeaks. You’re relieved once he retreats.   

Though it’s not a moment later his hands are back over you. Gloveless. It’s a shock to your system feeling the scrape of calloused fingertips trail over the curve of your spine. A curious touch, one unfamiliar with the softness of skin, yet the fleeting presses rapidly turn into the only thing he knows. 

Your sharp inhale echoes into the ship as his fingers trail down the slit of your cunt, gliding through the slick, already leaking from your core, with ease. You jolt as his fingertip catches against the tiny bundle of nerves, the pressure teasing and light. Never enough to satisfy, just a cruel reminder just how easy it is to get you worked up. With a muted whimper, your hips twitch, silently begging for anything more. Anything to fill your clenching cunt.  

He obliges with a smug chuckle, lazily pushing a finger into the ring of velvety muscle. You whine as he slips in another digit, scissoring and shallowly thrusting in out, thoroughly coating his hand with your arousal. Just as the buzzing strings of pleasure begin to build up, he extracts them. Frustration pierces through your sternum, your teeth clamping down over your tongue in order to quell your irritation.  

There’s a rustle of fabric and a harsh inhale from the man behind you as he closes the space between you. Your pussy clenches as the tip of him touches against your clit, the flesh searing and painfully hard. You shudder and exhale a long, stuttered breath.    

“I can tell you haven’t been fucked right,” he purrs, dragging the flushed head of his cock through your folds. “Why don’t we fix that?” 

Boba gives your thigh a swat and shifts, ready to align himself and sink into your clenching core. That heavy haze of pleasure is abruptly yanked out from beneath your feet, panic piercing through your heart with an alarming jolt. You seize up and jerk away. 

“W-wait!” You gasp, hands wiggling against the binders. “I-I...uhm—“

“Don’t tell me you haven’t done this before, Rabbit.” He thinks it’s a joke. It is a bit silly considering the circumstances—yet here you are. Bent over and telling Boba Fett you're a kriffing virgin.  

Your shamed silence and the heated flush that follows answers his question with crystalline clarity. 

“You’re serious.” 

“I’ve never been fucked, ok?”  Your eyes squeeze shut as you let out a long exhale. “I just...never…”

Your piss-poor explanation tapers off into a gaping fissure of terse silence. Maker, you should just throw yourself into a trash compactor—  

“I can change that,” he offers, trailing his palm over the globe of your ass. “If you’d like.” 

You swallow. Maybe in a different version of reality you’d consider a better option, but fuck it. You’re already here. “O-ok.”

“As you wish, Rabbit,” Boba complies. If not for the helmet you’re sure you’d see a smile curl across his face. “Just know—I don’t do gentle.”

You would never expect him to. Whatever civilized temperament he holds in not saved for anything but hunting and aiming a blaster. You tense as your walls begin to stretch and accept the tip of his cock—alarm bells blare inside your head, terrified that it won’t fit. His hand smooths over your hip as he encourages you to relax, let him sink in the rest of the way. His fingers find your clit, rubbing jerky patterns into the nerves as your cunt flutters and stitches wider for him. The sharp outline of his hips touch your ass, a sharp hiss of breath crackling out of the vocoder as he finally bottoms out. 

You’re so achingly full. No amount of fingers thrust up inside your cunt could compare to what you feel in this exact moment. Simultaneously split open and burning with white hot ecstasy with each involuntary jerk from the man inside you. There’s a minuscule pinch and ache as he pulls his hips back, the drag of his cock catching against each ridge and fold as you clench around him. 

“Fuck,” Boba swears, sheathing himself back inside with a forceful thrust. You squeak and pull against the binders. “You take it well.” 

There’s not much time between your next inhale and his hands anchoring around your hips, before he sets the pace; harsh and unyielding. Just as he promised, there is no buildup, just the violent roll and abrasive push inside you.  

There’s no time to familiarize yourself with this newfound sensation, just a frightening buildup that seizes you by surprise. It begins in belly, spreading through your bloodstream like the most virile poison. With another, devastating, surge of his cock into your pussy, you’re cast into that gaping bit of burning pleasure. 

Your vision whites out, your body arching and stiffening as you cry out. The fact that you’re squeezed so, fucking tight around him, holds no hinderance to his pace. Just encourages him to go faster. There’s no mercy as he fucks you through orgasm, overworking those sensitive nerves and pushing them past your limit.

With a hiss of air the binders fall to the ground with a clatter; the noise barely heard in comparison to your stuttered cries and the obscene sounds of his cock burying itself into your cunt. Your shoulders burn as your hands slip beneath you, shaky and unsure of themselves, stabilizing yourself against the greedy pull of his hands.  

The rough callous of his palm sweeps up your back and forms a fist in your hair, urging your spine to arch as his thrusts take on a sharper rhythm.

Your core is a mess of knots, pulled tight and more pressurized than a airlock. Your nails scrabble against the metal flooring, your knees rubbed raw from the vicious momentum he’s achieving. Fuck—this should’ve been your favor from the very start.

Those burning nerves, flooded with acute overstimulation, throws your body off that haphazard edge of another scorching orgasm. One that drags it’s sharpened nails down the curve of your spine, all the way done to your toes. 

“Fuck—fuck you’re tight,” he snarls, his hands squeezing your hips with vicious strength. “Keep squeezing me like that, Rabbit—good girl.”

The top half of you buckles under the weight of ecstasy, weakened and unbothered by the new angle; his cock reaching deep. Your fluttering cunt and the high-pitched whines of his name are it takes for him to reach his end. 

He pulls out, ropes of his release landing over your ass in hot gushes. “Shit.”

Boba’s cock still jumps and twitches as he drags it over your ass, rubbing his cum into the skin until the last dribble of his release dips above your tailbone. Quicker than you’d have liked he pulls away. Not far; just seats himself to your right and pulls up his trousers with a sigh. Eventually you’re able to trick yourself into moving; curling yourself into a little quivering ball as the aftershocks of pleasure prickle beneath your skin. 

You were right. It did fill whatever grasping numbness inside your chest, but now you’re left to deal with it all over again. You’re glad your back is to him as lonesome tears trickle down your nose and into you mouth, filling it with the taste of salt and pain. 

“I didn’t kill her. If that makes a difference.” 

It’s muttered and hard to catch, but you hear it just the same as if he had yelled it into your ear with an amplifier. You crush that flicker of hope with an iron fist as it flutters inside your stomach. “But?”

“But your Empire made sure that she was.” 

It doesn’t make a difference. 

[astringofmadhousefloozies]

Horse Friends

Yuu runs into Epel and gets an offer worth taking. Contains coarse language, discussions of masculinity/femininity and a fierce case of foot-in-mouth disease. Check my Twisted Wonderland Fanfiction tag for more, let me know if you enjoyed it, and if you ever want to let me know what you liked? Please do.

~*~*~*~

You like most creatures. Anything that deserves a pet should get one if they want it. So, you'd thought to yourself, let's go pet something you don't get to see every day. That's how you found yourself kicking around the edge of the horse pasture, watching majestic beasts eat and fart and amiably ignore your existence.

"You like them?"

You turned, and saw Epel had come up beside you.

"They're pretty cool. Not something I'm around much."

He nodded. "Wanna see a really big one?"

~*~*~*~

Did the barn smell bad or just like a barn? You couldn't tell, you didn't get to spend time in them and had no frame of reference. Where did they put the waste? You were thinking of asking where they buried the dead ones so you could go hunting with a shovel later when Epel came through the door, with the most fuckoff huge animal you've ever seen in your life. It was so tall you wondered if you could stand under it; a soft dapple grey, with long feathered fetlocks and a mane that reached past it's knees. It had to duck to get through the doorway, and stood, blinking, when Epel stopped, nevermind that this thing could probably swallow him whole if it had half a mind to.

"Are you sure it's not a kelpie?"

He laughed. "Ain't drowned anyone! 's nothing but a big guy. He's friendly! He's the one we use to teach riding."

You tentatively walked over and offered a hand. You did like horses - you really did! But they were very big, this one especially, and were deeply antsy despite being able to trample things easily. The last think you wanted was it to smell your nervousness and freak out.

It simply bypassed your hand, and instead nosed at your face with it's snout.

"He likes you!"

"I like him too." You prrbted his nose while he sniffed at you. "He got a name?"

"Beans."

"No!"

"Yes! Really."

"I can't believe Vil would let that slide."

"Yeah well, Beans was here first." Epel looked back and forth between you. "You want to try riding him? He's very gentle."

"Not today. But I'll take you up on that."

~*~*~*~

"Pull back to stop!"

You pulled back on the reins, and Beans stopped, and then started to back up.

"Nope, too much!"

You eased your grip and he stopped, flicking his ear an an errant fly.

This was the third time Epel had you up on the horse, and the first time he actually let you have the reins instead of simply leading you around. You weren't in a state of panic whenever the beast under you did something unexpected (though you jumped every time he or another horse whinnied; the sound drilled through your ears into the back if your skull in the worst way). The whole thing was pretty fun! Even if your legs got sore from straddling something as big around as you were tall.

Epel moved easily around on his own horse, a delicate-looking white stallion with murder in his heart, clearly a perfect pair. In the little bit of hanging out you'd done, you'd learned a few things about him:

- He hated being called cute. He was, which made it worse, but being treated as something precious drove him nuts.

- He was, by natural inclination, a rough and tumble farm boy. You knew more about motorbi- no, magical wheels than you ever had in your life, and now knew some truly vile curses that sounded wonderful coming out of his mouth.

- He really liked hanging out with someone he didn't have to pretend elegance around; which you had a feeling was part of why he started giving you private lessons. You were many things, but paragon of grace and propriety you were not.

Remembering what he told you, you lightly flicked the reins, and Beans started forward at a sedate pace. 

"There you go!" Epel beamed at you, and you reflected your own smile back at him.

~*~*~*~

Today, he seemed sour, and you could not understand why, so instead of gong in to greet the horses, you stopped and asked what crawled up his ass and died.

"Nothin' you'd know 'bout."

"Try me."

He stood there glowering, until he finally said, "Am I girlier than you?"

You had to stop and really consider that. "Who started on that one?"

"Some asshole. They said you're manlier than I'll ever be."

You snorted. "That's like, a matter of opinion. I'm kinda butch, sure, but what it is is that femininity is... it requires effort." You moved your hands, in an effort to grasp the words. "It takes effort to put on makeup, or shave your legs. Stuff like that is required to be seen as feminine if you're a girl. Neither of which you do? You're not feminine, really. You're young and pretty. And pretty was never exclusive to girls."

This did not seem to help, so you continued digging. "And you're real pretty, Epel. Combine that with being real young, it makes you cute to others, but like... give it a few years. Yeah. You get a little older and lose the young babyface. You'll still be pretty, but you won't be read as cute, not the way everyone reads you now."

All of his sullen fury was now clearly at you.

"I'm sorry dude. I don't know how to use my words right. But I sure as hell ain't more of a dude than you. Because you actually are one."

He still stood there, and you thought of something to lighten the mood. "Did you kick his ass?"

He finally cracked a smile. "Thoroughly."

"Good. You want to do this today, or do you wanna just vent at me over people being assholes?"

He thought for a moment. "The second one, but don't say anything 'til I say so. You suck at making me feel better."

You nod and give an okay sign, which got a snicker out of him.

~*~*~*~

"And he says I shouldn't lift weights! 'oooh Epel, it'll ruin the lines', Vil can fuck right off and choke on mangey pig cock, he hasn't missed a day of lifting for eight years unless he was too sick to get out of bed." 

You nodded, petting Lucius. He'd seen the both of you out on the grass and wandered over to play with people who were friendly, but not desperate.

"He's all Pomefiore ideals this and that and AUUUGH. I wanna stick a fork up his ass and beat down the doors of Savannahclaw until they let me change dorms."

You raised a finger, and he nodded. "But they don't do dorm changes."

"They do not and I hate it so fucking much." He flopped onto the grass, and you offered a hand that he high-fived. "It sucks. They wouldn't even move me when I went to beat Vil's ass when I first got sorted."

"You what."

"I did! Only got a swing in before he beat me down, but I tried." 

"Please say there's a recording of this."

"He cursed every electronic in a hundred-foot radius just to make sure no one had footage."

"Boo."

He nodded. "That could have made all the money."

You nodded, until Lucius caught your eye and you swatted at Epel to get him to watch. Lucius, crawling through the grass, crept, sprung... and walked back over with a headless lizard, the missing piece long down his gullet.

"Finish it up, Lucius."

Lucius, his play done, walked away, leaving you both with the corpse.

"Gross. Should we bury it?"

"Maybe." The gears are turning, and you instead fetch back a grumbling Lucius. "Epel. What is this?"

He raised an eyebrow. "A fat old cat?"

You held up the irritated cat with a smile. "This is, pound for pound, the most efficient land predator on the planet. I know of cats that have single handedly eradicated entire species. Cats are eight pounds of asskicking. They will fu-OW" You dropped Lucius and checked the welling scratches on your arm. "Cats will fuck you up. But cats are also fluffy and cute and like to be cuddled. They're elegant and lovely, silly and playful. The murder and the cute is inherent to the cat."

He frowned. "Where are you going with this."

"I'm saying you're basically a cat."

He was silent for a beat. "Thanks, I hate it."

"How much?"

"Enh." He wiggled his hand. "I get what you're trying to say, at least. As long as you don't run around calling me that I’m good."

"A cat?"

"No, other C word."

Your brain drew the only conclusion you could think of. "A cunt?"

He let out the ugliest laugh you'd ever heard, and things were good.

[pallasperilous]

So It Goes

So, forgive me this indulgence as somebody who does not ordinarily write meta; a friend asked me why I thought that the manner of Dean’s death in 15x20 is an incredibly lovely and mature writing choice. I think it is so, for reasons that also happen to explain why so many fans of the show fucking loathe it.

There is some Vonnegut at the end. Hang in for that. 

PART ONE: 

Chuck's story direction has always made sure that the boys, if they died, did so in a mega intense or glorious fashion (minus the *Mystery Spot* meddling by Gabriel, and those weren't meant to be permadeaths). Those deaths were awesome heroic television deaths that FED the story rather than ending it. Every time, the surviving brother would do some extremely stupid and destabilizing shit to bring the other back, often feeding an entire new cycle of death and retrieval. 

If he *didn't* (cf: Sam in the Cage, Dean in Purgatory), it caused a massive rift between them, which then fed *further* wild-ass decisions. The dudes were in the dictionary under 'codependency'. People knew that killing or capturing one of them meant the other wasn't far behind. 

Chuck's endgame for Sam and Dean was literally to *die fighting God.* How much more heroically wanky can you get?

But they beat him. They’re free. Jack takes over, and makes it clear that he isn’t going to be a God who meddles or directs; he’s not going to be their in-house writer. He’s just going to set things back where they belong, reform the systems that Chuck established out of ego or cruelty, and then integrate himself with the universe so that anything that happens to it…happens to him, too. He’s won’t be a character anymore. He’s a setting.

PART TWO: 

So, minus Chuck, with Jack’s goodbye and Castiel’s sacrifice…the boys get to experience plain old…real life. Tuesday! Drinking beer, kicking the laundry machine, filling out shitty job applications, enjoying the little consolations of food and pets and free time. (I think that messy room and dog-bonding and staring into the internet bespeaks a Dean who is really doing his goddamn best to not implode with grief as he has in the past, but to try to thrive in the face of deep grieving). 

When Sam expresses grief over losing Cas, Dean's response is basically: yeah, it sucks. But our job, that our loved ones sacrificed for us to have a shot at… is to stop trying to reverse all of our losses, and to learn to live with them, like normal people have to. That’s the price of the gift they’ve been given — accepting whatever real life deals them.

They can literally do anything they want; circumstances won’t herd them into Season 16. What’s the first thing Dean really does, after this little break? 

He hears “missing kids, dead parents” and he dives right back in. He opens his Dad’s goddamn notebook for the info. He’s immediately choosing to go right back to where they started, for the sake of helping other people. He books them to fight some of the very first basic bitch monsters he and Sam dealt with. That is unforced 100% Dean’s choice. 

(Sam has demonstrated an ability to not take on the responsibility of eliminating all monster-based misfortunes in the world and pursue a life beyond just hunting, so long as Dean has been off the map…but Dean’s one attempt to take a job and settle down with Lisa ended up being so obviously hollow that Castiel felt SO BAD he took time off from RUNNING HEAVEN to rescue Sam FOR DEAN.)

PART THREE: 

Remember Chuck's little fit earlier where Dean wound up getting his teeth drilled etc? That bad luck was being magnified by Chuck being pissed at them, but the brothers truly did find themselves facing ordinary people shit they had never really had to deal with. It drove the point home -- Sam and Dean had been exempt, this whole time, from the petty little ways that failure and misfortune work in the normal world. That extended to their hunting, too — they found out that there were people they could fail to save, despite their best effort. People who, according to the rules they’d been operating under, should have been savable. 

So we see this hunt — which is really rough and tumble. They’re still doing amazingly considering how outnumbered they are, but this was some of the most intentionally graceless fight choreography I remember seeing on the show. They seriously almost lose the fight, and Sam kills that last vamp pestering Dean with the kind of “whew!” last minute heroics we’ve come to expect from the show.

And Dean realizes: something has gone wrong. Something that no pulp TV action genre writer would ever, ever draft for a hero’s death. There was some scary rebar sticking out and Dean got shoved into it in the scuffle and it hath Fucked Him Up. It’s the kind of shit that happens on construction sites. It’s an accident. It’s a random misfortune. It has nothing to do with his heroism or skill or the cleverness or powerfulness of his opponents. It just happens.

Under show rules, here is what would happen next: Castiel would heal him. Jack would heal him. Sam would call an ambulance and Dean would be DOA and Sam would whip out his cellphone and call Rowena or a crossroads demon or Sister Jo or research a spell and we’d be off and rolling for Season 16.

But Dean says: Don’t do that.

Because that is what Chuck would write.

Dean realizes — this is exactly the world they have fought to exist in. A world that is randomly wonderful, randomly shitty. This happened because he chose to be here. Nobody made them pursue this hunt. Is he surprised that it happened so soon, that he ended up having so little time to give unscripted life a shot? Yes, to the point that he clearly thinks it’s honestly kinda funny. Cuz who’d write it like that? Nobody! He likes the part that he gets to die on a hunt, standing up, in his boots — that’s what he’s always seen for himself. Not in a bad way, not in a “killing machine” or a “daddy’s little soldier” way, but because it means he kept fighting for other people up to the last second. He’s upset that Sam is so upset — he’s more worried about calming Sam and reassuring him than he is about how cool his death is gonna look on IMDB, or how they can cheat circumstance to buy him more time. 

Instead of buying more time, at the expense of living like real people instead of TV characters…he decides to make the most of this one moment. He tells Sam how much he loves him. He tells Sam that Sam will be okay; he’s going to go live a whole life on whatever terms he and the universe can work out together, and the fact that Dean isn’t there is gonna be a painful but acceptable part of those terms. Dean says: don’t go running off trying to change this. Just spend this last little bit of time with me, while the universe does its thing. That’s what they do.

TL;DR — this death is fucking awesome because Chuck would absolutely fucking hate it. He wanted Sam and Dean to go down in a ball of fire together, fighting their coolest foe ever, CHUCK! 

Instead: Dean dies like a normal person, from an accident bred under circumstances that he chose for himself. Chuck loses half his prize, not to some other big bad, but to a damn piece of construction material on a mundane job.  And Dean gets to die in a way that unshackles Sam’s fate from his own. Like Castiel did for him, he gets to say: I love you. This is enough for me. Go live your life.

He finally gets to drop his kid back off at Stanford.

Chuck would be so pissed.

And we, the viewers of Supernatural...well, hell, we’re ultimately fans of Chuck’s writing, aren’t we? So of course something so unprecedented, so un-heroic or badass, so mundane and intimate and random...of course it shocks. Because that’s not the show we’ve been watching!! But isn’t that the point? The author is dead. We can put aside his tastes, and we can look at Dean’s death, and say the words of Dean’s actual favorite author, Kurt Vonnegut --  So it goes.

[tema-makes-art-sometimes]

002 | germano?

HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE

002 | send me a ship and I will tell you:

when I started shipping it.

No idea but it was a long ass fuck time ago. Liked it for years but didn’t really start enjoying it until I started writing Romano myself.

my thoughts:

This ship makes me so genuinely happy man. I know GerCanMano is my flag ship but I love Germano just as much and I at least have a few crumbs of content for them instead of the other which has none. Germano just like-- Seeing Romano in a healthy relationship and seeing Germany happy makes me happy.

What makes me happy about them:

I’m not one for slow burns all the time but Germano to me is one of those slow burn romances I really enjoy. Romano is a sassy and salty flirtatious gentleman who keeps measuring himself up to the big broad and awkward-but-gold-at-heart class president who doesn't understand why the guy gets so upset around him and tries his best to remedy the smaller man’s anger.

The two just slowly developing, starting as rivals with Romano wanting the attention from his brother that Germany gets (and possibly the smallest bit of envy about measuring himself up to ger in macho-ness) and Germany just wanting to understand Romano and just like- how he ticks. Them slowly bonding over the simple things, realizing they both love mechanics and gardening and cooking. Romano being impressed at Germany’s baking (bonus points if say Vene has been bringing home baked goods for ages and he thought they were just from a bakery Vene liked but it was just Ger trying to get rid of the food hes stress baking) and Romano getting to show off his cooking skills. Romano feeling a bit of pride when he makes Germany laugh at some shitty joke or snarky comeback, he just hears that little wheeze or chuckle under Germany’s breath and knows he did that.

Romano having a whole I wont say I'm in love crisis when he realizes hes falling for Germany because sure hes cute and all but like what no. My Romano is very flirtatious but emotionally withdrawn he loves to flirt around but he doesn't actually think about long term relations cause he never expects people to care about him that way so falling for Ger throws him for a loop. But he knows he has to make some decision on it because he can’t get Germany out of his mind but the thought of Germany saying no scares him more than anything else ever has and the thought of breaking Germany's heart makes him more angry than he thought he’d ever feel

Meanwhile Germany is a mess because he has no idea what hes doing all he knows is that Romano’s smile makes him melt and every time he thinks of the future he thinks about the two of them passing tools to each other over the hood of a car and kneading foccacia together and hes doing all of the research he can to try and perfectly convey how he feels and it only works when he for once throws out his plan and just speaks from his heart and stops over thinking everything. And its wholesome and personal and cute and Romano starts crying halfway through which freaks Germany out cause he doesn't want to force anything and oh god did i make you uncomfortable but before he can apologize and backpedal Romano just grabs him by the shirt and pulls him down into a smooch and for once in his life Roma doesn't instinctively jump and when someone reaches out to hug him.

What makes me sad about them:

That they get sidelined for other ships and that people cannot have Germany or Romano exist in a narrative without Veneziano having something to do with it.

Things done in fanfic that annoys me:

People assuming Germany and Romano would be abusive with one another because Romano acts snappy and dismissive around him when in reality he does the same exact behavior to literally everyone else; America, Spain etc. But Germany is the one that’s abusive, and not the others. Germany’s never been shown to hate Romano, confused and rolling his eyes at his insults sure but never hatred.

A lot of people take this in the direction that they hate or abuse each other or worse, like Germany would cheat and use both brothers. Which is just not true, let alone Romano is too much of a blunt mother fucker to let it happen. He wouldn’t take that. Being used or measured second to his brother is so common to him you think he would just lay down and let that happen? No. And Germany isn’t the sleep around without a care or being in a relationship with two people because he can’t decide which he likes more type the guys a romance moron he doesn’t know how to date one man let alone commit adultery.

Which sucks because things like the chauffeur strips show that Romano and Germany are on at least amicable if not friendly terms, Romano is just being Romano, he does the same pissy but nice energy that he does to Spain and America to Germany. And there’s so much there that could be played with, of Romano being reassured by Germany that he’s not this evil bad boy in fact his brother can be worse than he is, and Germany would know Vene has been attached to his side for ages he would know Vene at his worse. Romano showing off to Germany, impressing him that yes Romano can in fact work hard when he wants to and feels inclined to. Which would gain him respect from Germany because he’s so used to doing it himself it’s always a pleasant surprise when people help him or don’t leave him to do everything.

But often in fics this is squandered for the whole ‘Germany’s married to Vene but he’s in love with Romano oh no conflict drama’ and they never make him choose. Or worse he has him two time one and then the other which just isn’t even fucking in character. 90% of the fics I’ve found on AO3 have the under current of how does their relationship effect Vene, how does Vene feel about it or how is he involved and it’s so stupid. It’s only ever done with Romano, never to Vene, Romano is always treated like an extra or an asset to Veneziano and its never the other way around. People don’t write Gerita fics and have the whole story about how Romano feels about it.

Germany’s feelings toward Vene can easily be stated in that ‘he’s just my friend’ it’s so simple but instead often its paragraphs on paragraphs of Germany grappling with his feelings for both and I’m just not interested. If I wanted to read about Germany’s feelings toward Italy, I’d read a Gerita fanfiction. Also you can’t tell me that if Vene found out about the two being interested or even one of them being interested in the other he wouldn’t start playing matchmaker he absolutely would. Hell if you want that “conflict” have Vene be jealous he’s petty enough to do that!

I’m willing to take the L on this and admit I just have higher standards, but I just want a fic that has them in a relationship from the start or they build up to it but not have the fic end the moment they get together or have their first date. One that doesn’t focus on a side plot about Vene and Germany’s feelings toward Vene. Where they just get to be wholesome together, piece their feelings apart together, and develop their love for each other together.

TLDR: I’m very salty about Germano getting the short end of the stick and want to see more sweet domestic germano.

Things I look for in fanfic:

For it to exist and for it not to be a vector to talk about Veneziano’s opinions on their relationship. I just want wholesome content of Germany and Romano building a relationship or a life together, AU or Canonverse wise. The cute dates, working on cars together, gardening, baking and cooking-- Germany playing piano or flute while Romano sings. Them dancing together. Romano taking Germany out to tour and sight see. Romano forcing Germany to cuddle with him in front of the fireplace if they go up during winter to his place cause he hates the cold and his block of a boyfriend is very warm.

My happily ever after for them:

I don’t really think about happily ever afters for them cause as nations their lives move on, they can’t really have kids but they can live together, work together, love together and honestly that’s enough for me.

My kinks:

These will be below the cut, because of ns//fw mentions.

(general sex discussion, bd//m discussion, toys and other such ns//fw things.)

Romano is a bottom little pillow princess but despite that he has the most control in the bedroom. Germany doesn’t lack interest but when it comes to instigation it’s fewer and far between, Romano has more of a sex drive than him. Germany’s more into kinks than Romano, but he has trouble being confident enough to do it so Romano is often baiting him into it. He’s a brat who wants to be tamed and Germany doesn’t mind Romano being rough with him and vice versa.

Romano’s more used to rough and tumble, so when Germany is very slow soft and sincere he gets flustered really fast and can fall apart a lot quicker. He also will cry when Germany compliments him too much early in the relationship. They have a lot of safe words at Germany’s request so if either of them get too overwhelmed they have a safe out and will just vibe and cuddle until the other feels better enough to continue.

Romano will give Germany is rope bunny fantasies every once and a while and tie him up, he’s not into much more than handcuffs and collars but Germany enjoys it so he doesn’t mind. He loves when he can convince Germany into roleplay and let Germany get into a more confident ‘character’. His favorite things are bites and blowjobs. Leaving Germany covered in red marks and scratches is his favorite and he loves the rare sight of Germany squirming under him.

Germany loves to body worship Romano, and messages all of the messages. Romano doesn’t like Germany dragging it out but sometimes he can’t help himself cause he just loves how pretty Romano his and he wants to just touch him all over. He loves when Romano plays with his hair (at least in the bedroom), and since Romano is way more vocal than he is he loves coaxing little sounds out of him through different touches and kisses.

[lihikainanea]

What if Bill is away for a while due to work and when he arrives he's so desperate to touch tiger? she would greet him on her knees and when she starts gently stroking his balls she says "ummh they are too heavy let me fix that BIG boy" they have the best rough sex in a while and after that bill would be ⚰

God I am so here for Bill getting his soff, beautiful soul SPOILT. 

It’s probably in a scenario a bit like this one, eh? Survey says: yes.

He’s been away. He’s been abstaining, because he’s insane. And like, he’s in literal, physical pain. He swears they look bigger. He swears they’re heavier. He swears he can’t walk properly, can’t zip up his pants, and it gets to the point where any space from his navel down is just this tightly wound, taut ball of PENT UP AGONY.

I’ll bet it’s to the point where a few days before his flight home, he can’t even talk to tiger anymore. He can’t even hear her voice, because it’ll send him over the edge and he’ll lose all of his willpower that he’s trying so desperately to hold onto. Tiger understands, she can’t even imagine how much pain the idiot is in, and they stick to just texting for the few days leading up to his arrival.

I’ll bet she’s real sweet too, and she gives him strength where he has none left. And maybe he caves--maybe it’s too much, and the night before his flight, he calls her.

“Turn your video on,” he commands, “Take your clothes off. I can’t wait anymore.”

“Yes you can, and you will,” she says forcefully.

“No I won’t,” he snaps back.

“Listen here, Big Bird. It’s been months. Months. You’re really going to let your first time in this long be with your own hand? Do you have any idea how unsatisfying that will be?”

Bill knows she’s right, but he’s also just manic.

“Shut up,” he grumbles petulantly.

“Besides,” she says, “That’s mine, buddy. Everything in there, it’s mine. I want it all, so you better not fucking blow your load in some ratty ass hotel Kleenex when I am sitting here, waiting to get you balls deep in my wet--”

There’s a frustrated yell on Bill’s end, and then the dial tone. Tiger feels a little bad, but Jesus Christ, the thought of him getting himself off after going months without when she just can’t wait to get him home and bang him straight into the next hemisphere--she has every right to be pissed.

This is where my mind splits a little bit, so please allow me this indulgence. Because I love these two thoughts equally: that Bill gets home and tiger throws him down, mounts him, and just rides him to within an inch of his life. But also...this concept that Bill when he’s this turned on is just reduced to basic instincts, and his basic instincts involve pinning her underneath him and just thrusting into her. Slamming her back to the floor, not letting her move, and just pounding into her until he nearly blacks out.

LET’S EXPLORE.

First of all, Bill whips open the door the next night and tiger greets him in the hallway, already on her knees--and while that’s a total delight every time, right now Bill has precisely zero ability to be gentle about any of this and he needs more. Her mouth can come second--he needs to be inside of her.

And I’ll bet tiger just lunges for him, tears his pants off, and she drags him to the bed and all but throws him onto his back on it. Bill ain’t protesting, hell Bill is barely even moving--his eyes are already crossing, knowing that he’s just a few seconds away from the relief he’s needed for months. Tiger isn’t gentle about it--because she knows that he doesn’t want it gentle. She climbs on top, slams down onto him and he lets out a feral shout, and then she’s riding him into oblivion. It’s hard, fast, rough, and Bill is just groaning loudly throughout the entire thing. He’s clutching at her, fingers digging in hard enough to leave bruises, and tiger is just not letting up. It doesn’t last long at all, and he comes with a loud roar as he shoots forward. I’ll bet he kind of just keeps yelling throughout it because it’s so intense, clutching at her and convulsing and there’s just....oh god there’s so much of it. It goes on for a long time. And once he’s finally done tensing, he can’t even hold himself upright--he just flops back on the bed, moaning softly through the aftershocks. Tiger gives him a few head scritchies but within a few seconds, her Big Dude is deadass asleep, drooling on his pillow. She just snickers, keeps him buried inside of her and just lays on his chest, waiting for him to wake up for round two.

BUT THEN ALSO LIKE

I’m so here for primal Bill. I am so, so here for it. Bill, whose mind just fucking blanks out. Bill, who lets his mind blank out because he knows that he’s safe, that she’s safe, and that he can be this way with her. Bill, who lets this animalistic side take over because he knows she likes it too, and he trusts that she’ll stop him if it goes too far.

And Bill, when he’s this turned on, he’s just...he’s fucking predatory. He’s a hunter. He only has one thing on his mind, and it’s how much he needs to slam her back to the ground, and just drive into her. How he needs that wetness surrounding him, needs to hear those whimpers tumbling from her lips as he chases it. He can’t control anything, can’t control his need for a release, can’t control the pace or rhythm of his hips, can’t do anything except slam into her and then pull back and keep driving into her as her toes curl, as she scratches the fuck out of his back as she hangs on.

And that’s exactly what happens. He swings the door open to see her on her knees, and there’s not even a greeting. No hello. Nothing. He just charges over to her, picks her up and slams her back on the ground. His pants are off, her panties are torn off, and then his mind just goes blank as he slams into her.

It doesn’t take him long this way either, especially not with her nails digging into him and her begging harder in his ear. He comes so hard he punches the floor, spasming for longer than tiger ever thought was possible as he just empties inside of her. It takes a long time for him to stop twitching, tiger cooing softly in his ear the whole time as he tries to breathe. Her nails scritch at his scalp, she can feel his pants of laboured breath on her neck. He’s trying to talk but he can’t feel his jaw, can’t control his tongue, and tiger just shushes him softly. He’s snoring a few seconds later.

[space-helen]

Never

Words: 1833

Pairing: Snape x Reader

A/N: First time writing Snape and honestly I don’t know how I feel about this one since there’s so much going on but yeah I hope I did the request justice!

Request: Hey! I've never requested anything before so not sure how to do this but I'd love love LOVE to see a professor!Snape x professor!reader please!! I really love your writing, thank you so much just for reading this! Just lots of fluff and kind of going from being friends to then being together with first kiss and all that fluffy goodness! Thank you! - @awkwardaxelotl

_________________

You marked the final piece of work before looking up at the man opposite you. It had become a weekly thing about two months after you started teaching at Hogwarts and now you were two years in. Your teaching experience had started out a bit rough there was a huge adjustment period for you but you’d quickly made friends with all of the other professors but after some time clicked the most with Professor Snape.

“How long have you been done?” 

“Long enough to see you decide whether you wanted to award a point for the sarcastic answer.” the man said in his monotonous voice with a small smirk on his face. He showed you a different side entirely, one he didn’t show many other people.

You smiled “I really should just expect answers like that from now on.”

The man let out an amused breath “Well, Congratulations on your two year teaching anniversary.”

“Thank you Severus.” You leant back in your chair and gazed around your office taking in all of the books that you needed to clear away.

“You’ll come to dinner in the great hall later?” he asked as he stood up from his seat.

“Of course. I’ll just tidy up and I’ll be there.” He walked towards the door before speaking again “A word of advice. Don’t open any of the books. Otherwise you’ll never tidy them away.” He said with a quirk of an eyebrow.

You smiled “Now what makes you say that?”

“I know you. You get distracted.” With that he turned and left, closing the door behind him. 

You sat back in your chair and shook your head in disbelief. When you’d joined the Hogwarts Professors team everyone had said things like ‘don’t take it to heart if he ignores you’, ‘deadpan sass is his middle name’ and ‘don’t expect to make friends with him, he only baseline tolerates all professors and only has a select few he enjoys the company of.’ Yet within weeks of being in Hogwarts the two of you had become more than just acquaintances and now you were friends.

Originally he’d just say a hello to you and carry on with his day but then he saw your passion for teaching, your love for the subject and your ability to be kind, relatable and humourous with classes whilst also being able to control them, he admired that and he wanted to know more. 

You on the other hand didn’t try hard in the beginning at all, you’d be kind to the man and that was it, not going out of your way to see him or try and be his friend. You had plenty of other friendships with the other professors, McGonagall being the one who’d taken you under her wing. That was until one day Snape came to sit near you while dining in the great hall. It was unusual for professors to change seats but he did it with such conviction so no one questioned it. After that evening you saw that the man wasn’t so cold hearted and harsh afterall.

You looked at the meal before you as Severus took his seat next to yours. “I see you made it.”

“Yep I listened to your advice.” you said angling yourself towards the man.

“I guess there’s a first for everything.” He said before starting to eat his meal.

The two of you ate and fell into a natural conversation with each other and the other Professors at the table.

“Professor Y/L/N!” You peered up to see the Slytherin 6th year boy, Rupert Pickett, who’d been causing trouble in your classroom approach the front of the great hall.

“Yes?” 

“Can you stop chatting up our head of house? It’s kind of embarrassing.” 

You could feel all of the heat rushing to your face. This kid really did get your blood boiling before you could even say something a deep voice came from beside you. “How dare you speak to another professor like that. 50 points from Slytherin and a week's detention.” 

“Just because you like her doesn’t mean you need to defend her. After all she’s a mudblo-”

Snape stood abruptly “That’s enough an additional 50 points from Slytherin detention for 2 weeks and all Hogsmeade privileges are revoked until further notice.” he had begun to raise his voice slightly at this point. Making much of the room notice the dispute happening.

The boy looked dumbfounded, his mouth agape but clearly mad. It took him a second to unfreeze before turning and practically stomping away. 

“I apologise for his behaviour.”

You looked at the man tears collecting in your eyes but not falling. “Thank you. He's one of the harder ones to control in the classroom."

"He misbehaves often. I'm sorry you have to deal with him"

"There's always one" you adjusted yourself in your seat "Anyway, tell me more about that potion."

It had been a couple of days since the incident with the Slytherin boy and it was nearly forgotten about entirely. 

“Any questions?” you asked the class.

A very young first year Hufflepuff girl raised her hand and you called upon her. “What’s a mudblood?” 

You shook your head in disbelief “Miss French I’d advise you not to repeat that word again, it’s a derogatory term used in the wizarding word and it should not be used under any circumstances.” “Any other questions?” The class was silent. “You are dismissed.”

Turning you picked up a book from your table and walked towards your bookshelf. That’s when you heard a giggle and a pain shoot through your legs causing you to fall, as your head hit the floor you were greeted quickly by darkness. 

Severus’ robes billowed behind him as he took strides down the corridor towards Madame Pomfreys. It hadn’t taken long for the news to spread that the lovely Professor Y/L/N was injured.

Pushing the doors open, making an entrance as he always did, he saw Dumbledore and McGonagall around your bed with Madame Profrey. He quickly joined them.

“Severus just in time. I’m afraid there’s going to be an investigation into some pupils in your house.” 

Severus peered towards you. “Do we suspect they were the cause of this?” you nodded. “What’s the extent of the injuries?”

You went to open your mouth before you were cut off by Madame Pomfrey “Her bones were completely shattered in her left leg, I’ve repaired them but it’s still going to be painful for a while, she also had a nasty concussion.”

“So I’ll be using a walking stick for a couple of weeks.” you laughed.

The man huffed in response. “How are you feeling?” His eyes were full of concern as he looked at you.

“I’ve had better days. I’m just disappointed that this happened, McGonogall overheard some rumours that Mr Pickett had given the spell to one of the pupils in the classroom to cast.” you bowed your head in shame and sadness that a pupil would ever do this.

Anger boiled within Severus and he was soon storming out through the doors. He cared for you and he’d be damned if he’d let the boy who did this to you go unpunished.

Madame Pomfrey had kept you in overnight to ensure you didn’t have a concussion. Severus had sat with you long into the night and the two of you had talked about various things. Before long you had fallen asleep and Severus had sat with you for a while before deciding to return to his own quarters for the night.

“Ok when you’re ready stand up” Madame Pomfrey spoke to you. Perched on the edge of the bed you braced your arms either side of yourself ready to push yourself to your feet. Severus standing next to you with a walking stick ready for you to take. 

You took a deep breath in and pushed yourself up quickly grabbing the walking stick from Severus and giving him a small smile. 

“Ok take a step for me?”

Severus could see how unsteady you were and caught your arm to steady you  just before you could tumble over. 

You let out a small laugh “Walking is harder than I remember and it hasn’t even been a day.”

Madame Pomfrey laughed “It’s ok you’ll be unsteady for a while but that’s what the stick is for. Now I’m sure Professor Snape can help you back to your classroom but take it easy once you’re there. Practice walking but also don’t put too much strain on your leg.”

You nodded as Severus let go and offered you his arm properly. You wrapped your arm around his and held onto his forearm.

“Ready?” he questioned looking at you.

Clutching his arm tighter you brought yourself closer to him “Ready.” 

The two of you slowly walked towards your classroom, clutching his arm tightly occasionally when you felt unsteady.

Arriving at your classroom you let him walk you to your desk before letting go of his arm and taking a seat. Thanking the man he moved around the desk and sat opposite you as you rearranged some items on the desk.

“Feeling better already?”

You smiled up at the man “You could say that.”

Severus started lecturing you about taking it easy when a pencil rolled off your desk and onto the floor. Pushing the chair back slightly, a shooting pain went through your leg from the pressure. The man moved around the table instantly, his concerned expression right at your side as he placed a hand on your shoulder. “Allow me”

Gently kneeling down next to you he picked up the pencil and placed it on the table. “Thank you.” you said quietly.

The man looked at you from his half kneeling position for a moment, he was knelt but still tall next to your chair. “Whatever are you thanking me for? It was only a pencil.”

“Everything.” you let your gaze flicker over the mans face. You’d be lying if you said some feelings for the man hadn’t developed and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t care for you.

Severus’ heart beat loudly in his chest as he slowly moved towards you and soon his lips were on yours. The kiss was short but sweet as he pulled away.

“I’m sorry I should never have ki-” you quickly leant in to kiss the man again letting him know you felt the exact same way before long his hand was on your face deepening the kiss. 

Pulling away the man gently let his thumb run over your cheek before standing up and placing a kiss to your forehead. “You have a class to teach shortly. I’ll come back at the end of the day to escort you to the great hall”

With one smooth movement he was gone. Everyone had told you not to bother with Snape because he’d never want to be your friend, yet here you were doing the exact opposite. Tag List: (open) Snape: Harry Potter: