#and I do plan to finish all the prompts sooner or later :D | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

noforkingclue · 4 years ago

Note

Hello hello hello, are the 600 followers (consider me part of the gang now) requests still active? If you please, I'd like to throw my beloved Billy Butcher with angst nr. 8 into the ring. Or 16. I suck at decisions. 😅 If reader-insert is an option, then reader as caretaker. Thanks in advance!

Welcome to the gang!

I put both of the prompts in because I love writing angst! Hope you like it :D

Prompt 8, angst: “Is that blood?” “…..No?”

Prompt 16, angst: “Are you hurt?” “No.” “Then why are there bruises all over your face?”

The Boys tag list: @captainofmybigwetdream

Everything tag list: @greenrevolutionary

You had stayed up late waiting for Butcher to return. MM had told you that there was no point in waiting up and to get some sleep but you couldn’t knowing that Butcher was out there and possibly hurt. You looked up sharply when you heard familiar heavy footsteps come down the steps. When Butcher reached the bottom of the staircase he looked at you in mild shock.

“You should be asleep.” He said as a greeting

“So should you.”

“Don’t worry about me,” he grunted, “Can look after myself.”

“As can I.”

Butcher gave you a hard look but you refused to back down. As you walked closer to him your breath hitched when you could clearly see him.

“Are you hurt?”

“No.”

“Then why are there bruises all over your face?”

“Don’t worry about me,” Butcher pushed passed you and ignored the pleading look on your face, “Doesn’t matter.”

“Of course I worry about you Butcher,” you said firmly, “You’re my friend and I came along as a doctor. Don’t try and bullshit me because it doesn’t work. Let me check you over.”

You didn’t see the way Butcher winced when you said ‘friend’. He sighed and looked over his shoulder.

“You’re not going to leave me alone I agree.”

“Yep.”

“Fine. But make it quick.”

Butcher sat down on the old sofa and you quickly joined his. You didn’t notice the way he tensed when you pushed his coat off of his shoulder but you gasped when you saw his blood stained shirt. You looked up at him with scowl on your face as Butcher avoided eye contact.

“Is that blood?”

“… No?”

“Don’t lie to me Butcher,” you took out your medical kit and pulled out the disinfectant, “You know how I feel when people don’t tell me about their wounds. What happened if this became infected? Then what?”

“Relax. It’s not serious.”

“I’ll be the judge of that. Now take your shirt off.”

In all the situations Butcher imagined you telling him to take his shirt off this one hadn’t crossed his mind. He winced as he tried to raise his arm and you and gently swatted away his hands.

“Let me.” You said

Butcher watched you intently as you undid the buttons on his shirt and you felt yourself get hot under his intense stare. It wasn’t a though you hadn’t seen him shirtless before, you’d seen every one of the guys shirtless so it wasn’t anything new, but this held a certain intimacy about it. It was probably because it was the middle of the night and everyone else was asleep. There wasn’t anyone else talking or distracting you from the situation. But right now there was no other escape from how close you were to Butcher or the dark intent in his eyes. You grabbed the bottle and poured a bit onto some cotton wool and gently dabbed it on. Butcher hissed in pain and you said,

“Careful. The pain shows that it’s working.”

“Still fucking hurts.”

You looked and the wound and sighed in relief.

“It’s not deep,” you commented, “Which is lucky.”

“So what the fuck was all of this for?”

“I still needed to clean it,” you said, “Infection remember? Now let me bandage it then get some sleep.”

“Whatever you say doc.”

Your lips twitched at the nickname as you grabbed the bandages and started wrapping Butcher’s arm. You shifted awkwardly under his gaze and you wished that you had taken MM’s advice and had gone to sleep.

“Y/n.”

You refused to make eye contact with Butcher, afraid of what might happen.

“Look at me.”

There was a command in Butcher’s voice. A tone that told you he wasn’t used to being disobeyed. Slowly you looked up at him and he smiled.

“You’re always looking out for us doc.”

“Well someone has to.”

Butcher’s hand closed around yours and you exhaled deeply through your nose. You knew this shouldn’t be happening but a part of you didn’t want it to stop.

“I feel like I never really showed you how much you mean to me.”

“You guys-“

“To me,” Butcher interrupted, “Not just to everyone but to me.”

You stared at him for a moment for realisation hit you. Butcher rested his forehead against yours and the part of you that wanted to pull away disappeared. You wanted this and you never wanted this moment to end.

“Thank you.” He said quietly

“It’s my-“

“For everything. Not just patching us up when we’ve been stupid cunts and gotten hurt but just for being there for me.”

“Don’t mention it, I-“

But before you could finish Butcher had pressed his lips against yours. He wrapped an arm around your waist as you gripped his arms. You shifted slightly so you sitting in his lap and when you broke the kiss the two of you remained close.

“Fuck.” You whispered

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that.” Replied Butcher

“Think I have some idea.”

You hesitated before slowly getting off is lap. Butcher looked disappointed but you said,

“Sorry for killing for mood but your arm,” you pointed to it and it had started bleeding again, “I’m not into blood play.”

“Another night then.”

“When you’re properly healed.”

“Although,” Butcher wrapped an arm around you and pulled you against his chest, “I’m not going to let you leave me.”

“Who said I was planning on going anywhere?”

MM, Frenchie and Hughie looked at yours and Butcher’s sleeping forms. MM sighed before handing some money over to a very smug looking Frenchie. Hughie just looked at them in shock.

“Did you take bets on their relationship?” he asked

“It was obvious,” said Frenchie, “It was going to happen sooner or later.”

“I was hoping for later,” said MM, “You know how stubborn they are.”

When you shifted in Butcher’s arms they quickly walked away. You and Butcher wouldn’t be happy if either of you found out that they had taken bets on you. This was something best kept between themselves.

#fanfiction #the boys #reader insert #request #Billy Butcher #billy butcher x reader #billy butcher imagine #writing prompts

155 notes · View notes

sunrisefairy · 4 years ago

Text

Last chances

Pairing: George Weasley x reader Warning: Alcohol, swearing, angst (but worth it i promise) Summary: Y/N is getting married. To someone that isn’t George.

A/N: this was written for @inglourious-imagines 1K writing challenge (i just realised i didnt tell you before hand what prompts i was gonna do so i hope thats okay) based off the prompts ‘you need to leave’ and ‘d-did you just k-kiss me?’

Taglist: @hufflepuff5972 @inglourious-imagines @klausdatprettyboi @georgeweasleyswhre @horrorxweasley @amourtentiaa send me an ask if you would like to be added

———————————————————————————————————

George felt all the air being sucked out of his lungs as he read over the golden cursive words printed onto the crisp white paper. He could feel Fred’s pitiful stare burning holes into the side of his head, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the paper in his grasp. George’s brain was overflowing with thoughts, but his head was empty at the same time, as if every time he reached out his thoughts were dissolving into liquid and slipping through his fingers.

By the time George managed to make eye contact with Fred, his eyes were red and burning with tears, the only thought he could wrap his fingers around was the one which was destroying him the most, “she’s getting married?”

~~~

The sun was beating down harshly making the sand feel like tiny grains of lava, but George didn’t care. It was the middle of summer and the Weasley family had invited the Y/L/N’s to the beach. John and Nancy Y/L/N had been very good friends with Molly and Arthur Weasley for many years having met during high school. But soon after graduation John and Nancy got married and decided to travel the world which they had done for a few years before having their daughter Y/N. They moved around a lot while Y/N was a baby, still wanting to explore and see what the world had to offer. But now, Y/N was 7 and they decided it would do her and themselves some good to settle down somewhere, plant some roots so to speak. Which is how they ended back in the small town John and Nancy grew up in, the one where the Weasleys were still living.

Giving that it was summer, and the weather was reaching high temperatures the Weasley family decided to spend the day at the beach so the children could kill some energy and excitedly invited their old friends, John and Nancy to catch up.

George was particularly thrilled not only because he loved days at the beach playing with his siblings and making sandcastles just to pretend he was a giant and stomp on them, but he couldn’t wait to meet Y/N. His parents had told him and Fred that Y/N was their age and although Fred wasn’t very interested in playing with a girl and would much rather prank Ron, George had a good feeling about Y/N.

George had just finished constructing a sandcastle he named ‘Castle Weasley’ and was about to jump on it when his mum calls for him. He drags his bare feet through the hot sand over to his parents who are chatting with 2 people he doesn’t recognise.

“Fred, George this is John and Nancy, and this is their little girl Y/N.” Molly gestures to the timid girl hiding behind her mum’s leg.

Reluctantly Y/N moves from her previous hiding spot and stares doe eyes up at the twins in front of her. George’s mouth is dry and his palms are clammy, but he doesn’t think it’s from the blistering heat. George Weasley is staring at the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen.

~~~

It’s been 3 weeks since Y/N’s wedding invitation arrived in the mail and George had shoved it under a pile of bills he was also planning to ignore. Although he doesn’t need to see the invitations to remember the words which were written on the paper ‘kindly join us for the wedding of Y/N L/N and William Chapman. Saturday the seventeenth of April at 11 o’clock.’

It was the 10th of April today, just 7 days till Y/N’s wedding. George felt bile rising in the back of his throat every time he thinks about Y/N marrying someone which wasn’t himself. George has had a crush on the girl ever since he first met her that day on the beach. Back then he only ever saw it as a silly little crush which he hoped he’d eventually get over. But years went on and his crush only grew and grew until it was suffocating. When they reached high school, George planned to tell Y/N about his feelings but chickened out each time, scared of ruining their friendship.

To be honest George always felt (maybe he just hoped) that him and Y/N were meant for each other and sooner or later they’d be together. He held tightly onto this when Y/N started dating William. George was optimistic that William and Y/N’s relationship wasn’t serious and eventually they’d break up and George could finally confess his feelings. All of that went down the drain the second George open up that stupid envelope.

“I ran into Y/N today. At the store,” Fred says carefully trying to gage his brother’s reaction to her name. George just offers a grunt in response, eye staring blankly at the tv in front of him. “she asked about you, wants to know if you’re going to the wedding since she hasn’t heard anything from you.”

George doesn’t reply. Fred just sighs, ”c’mon mate. You’re really not going to go? It’s Y/N we’re talking about here. She’s your best mate.”

George racks his ringers through his already messy hair, squeezing his eyes closed. “That’s exactly why I can’t go. It’s Y/N. How can I sit there and watch Y/N marry some other guy and pretend I’m okay with it?” George feels tears threatening to fall down his cheeks, it’s a wonder he has any tears left to cry.

Fred moves closer to George on the couch, wrapping his arm around his twin who chokes out a sob, “I know buddy, I know it fucking hurts.”

~~~

Since graduating high school George and Y/N made it tradition to catch up once a week if not more so they wouldn’t lose touch. But their newfound busy lives with university and work meant they hadn’t seen each other for a month. They finally found a day that they were both free and decided to meet up for coffee. George had paid for Y/N’s latte while she found them a table by the window. He set their drinks down admiring how beautiful Y/N looked, she was practically glowing.

“So, Y/N what’s new with you? I feel like it’s been forever since I’ve seen you,” George takes a long sip of his coffee.

George knows Y/N must have some important news for him, judging solely off the smile that she’s failing to conceal. “Well, if you must know. I met someone.”

The colour drains from George’s face and he coughs trying to regain his composure. “Like a boy?”

“Yes a boy silly, his name is William and I met him at the library. It was actually really funny I was turning down one of the aisles and he” George drowns out Y/N’s voice, he can hear his heart thumping in his chest, threatening to jump out.

George knows, he knows it’s his own fault for not telling Y/N how he feels sooner. He knows he doesn’t have anyone else to blame but himself, but it doesn’t make this hurt any less. Sweet, kind Y/N, who had gently cradled George’s heart unknowingly since they were 7, has squeezed it between her slender fingers like a stress ball.

“George?” Y/N words break him from his trance.

“That sounds amazing Y/N, I’m really happy for you.”

~~~

It’s Monday and Y/N has been trying to contact George for days with no luck. She ran into Fred last Saturday who said George has just been super busy with work, she didn’t believe it one bit, she needed to find out why George has been ignoring her.

She pushes the store door open and the bell above chimes announcing her arrival.

“Sorry we’re closed for the day!” a voice travels through the store before it’s owner exits the storeroom to see who the culprit is, who clearly cannot read the ‘closed’ sign hanging on the door.

George’s eyes land on Y/N who is standing by the front door unmoving and twiddling with her fingers, playing with an engagement ring that seems out of place on her left hand. “What are you doing here?”

Y/N steps closer, not noticing the way George takes a small step back, “I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

George doesn’t speak, he’s certain that his voice would be unsteady if he did. Y/N hates the silence, so speaks again, “I’m getting married you know, on Saturday.”

George sucks in a breath, turning his back to fix one of the displays. “Yeah, congratulations,” he mumbles.

“I didn’t know if you got the invitation or not, kind of expected you to call.” Y/N shoves her hands into the pockets of her jeans, moving so she is standing beside George who is avoiding her gaze. “What’s the matter Georgie?”

George shakes his head, “kind of fast isn’t it? Why the rush to get married to that twat?”

Y/N rolls her eyes, ever since George met William, he made it very clear he didn’t like the bloke. “George stop it. He proposed and I said yes. We figured why wait to start our lives together, y’know? So on Saturday I thought that-“

“-I’m not going.” George’s words felt like a hot knife to Y/N’s chest. When George finally mets her gaze he continues, “I’m not going to the wedding Y/N.”

“Why?”

“Because! Because William is a prick and doesn’t deserve you. I can’t sit there and watch you marry some idiot.” George knows his voice is getting louder and that his hands are flailing around but he doesn’t care. “He’s an absolute tosser! You deserve better than William.” You deserve me.

“William has done nothing but love me, George.” The thought of George not being there at her wedding breaks her heart. George was her best friend; how could she not have her best friend at the wedding. “Are you really not going to be there for me?” Y/N’s voice is quiet and timid.

It shatters George to see her so upset and the next words almost kill him.

“No, I won’t be there.”

~~~

Click.

“Okay mum that’s enough photos now!” Y/N giggles trying to hide her face behind her hands.

“Just one more please! George put your arm around her this time.” Nancy says holding the camera up to her face.

George wraps his arm around Y/N waist pulling her closer to him very aware of the way Y/N leans into his side. It’s the night on the school dance and somehow he had gathered enough courage to ask Y/N to go with him, she agreed of course and now they were standing out the front of Y/N’s house in front of the rose bushes while Y/N and George’s parents took photos.

“Okay now one with the four of you together,” Molly says pushing Fred and his date over to the rose bush. The four of them stood together smiling at all the flashing cameras which almost blinded them.

Molly wipes a tear that slips down her cheek, she always got emotional during things like this, “I cannot believe my little babies are growing up. 16 and going to a school dance with their gorgeous dates.”

“Right mum that’s enough, we’re gonna be late,” George groans although he didn’t mind having his arm around Y/N’s middle.

Molly nods agreeing, “right fine! Don’t want to keep you from your dance, have fun!”

Arthur drops the 4 of them off at the school hall reminding them he’d be back at 12 to pick them up.

All 4 of them spend most of the night dancing together and laughing at Fred’s questionable dance moves. Soon the upbeat song comes to an end and a much slowly one started playing. Immediately Fred extends a hand to his date, “m’lady. Care to dance?”

George turns his body to face Y/N who is gazing up at his tall frame, he gulps “Y/N do you wanna dance with me?”

The smile that spreads across her face could light up the room, “yes please.”

For the remainder of the night George and Y/N sway slowly to the music, Y/N moves closer to George until her head is resting against his chest and his arms find their place on her hips.

Y/N can hear George humming to the music above her and she smiles giving his shoulders a small squeeze, then whispers so quietly she’s worried George doesn’t hear her. “I hope we are always best friends Georgie.”

“I promise we will be love.”

~~~

Friday night and George hasn’t spoken to Y/N since she visited the shop. He’s ignored her phone calls and text messages; she came into the shop again on Wednesday, but George locked himself in the backroom telling Fred he had to do stocktake.

George could feel himself falling apart, Y/N was upset with him, Fred was annoyed at his childish behaviour. George felt himself fall deeper and deeper as his heartache and sorrow grew stronger every time he remembered Y/N’s engagement. The only thing which seems to numb his feelings was the alcohol.

At this point George wasn’t sure how much he had had to drink, but the buzz running through his system was better than the bitterness he was feeling before. It had just hit 11:30pm at night and he had finished the last of the tequila from the bottle. With no alcohol to distract his brain his eyes drift over the numerous photo frames he has hanging on the living room wall. His eyes stop at one photo in particular, it’s of him and Y/N from the day at the beach when they were 7. Despite it being the first time the two had met, they looked like they’d known each other since birth. Y/N had been very shy when she was introduced to the twins, but George quickly made her feel comfortable and the day was spent with lots of laughter and smiles. In the photo George and Y/N are stood side by side on the sand, grinning up at the camera. They had just made a huge sandcastle village and were very proud to show off their creation. George’s eyes wander down the photograph to their hands which are tightly intertwined. He bites his lip before stumbling out the front door.

~~~

“Do you ever think about getting married Georgie?” Y/N questions, she’s lying beside George outside on the grass, staring up at the clouds moving above them. They did this a lot, gazing at the sky trying to find the funniest shapes in the clouds.

George is only 12 but he knows exactly who he wants to marry, not that he will admit that.

“No, not really.” George tries not to freak out when he feels Y/N’s hand intertwine with his own, “do you?”

Y/N nods, “yep, I want to marry someone who is funny and will let me eat ice cream for dinner.” She giggles and it makes George’s heart soar, it the 5 years of knowing Y/N it had quickly become George’s favourite sound.

He turns his head to face Y/N, she’s still looking up at the sky, there’s a faint smile on her lips.

“I’m funny.” George isn’t sure what he’s insinuating.

Y/N turns to face him, “you are. Would you let me eat ice cream for dinner?” he nods eagerly.

Y/N purses her lips before smiling, “well then Georgie, maybe I’ll marry you.”

George can only hope that’s true.

~~~

George’s fist hammers against the wooden door. It knows it late and there’s a chance William will answer instead of Y/N but in this moment he doesn’t care. “C’mon Y/N open up! It’s me George.”

The door swings open and Y/N is standing on the other side in a fluffy dressing gown wrapped snuggly around her body rubbing her eyes. “George what the hell are you doing here?” There’s a trace of annoying on her voice, mostly because he’d woken her up but also because she’s been trying to talk to him all week and he decides to show up at her house at midnight the night before her wedding.

“I-um,” George stammers, his words getting stuck in this throat. He has spent practically his whole life wanting to tell Y/N he loves her but never being able to find the words, this time was no exception. So, in George’s alcohol fuelled mind he decides if he can’t use words then actions are the next best thing.

Y/N is staring blanking at the redhead on her porch, eager to know the reason why he’s standing in front of her after ignoring her all week. George timidly steps closer towards Y/N before resting his hands on her cheeks and pressing their lips together roughly.

Y/N is stood frozen on the spot until her hands reach up to rest on George’s chest. She can taste the strong alcohol on Georges mouth, and she’s pulled back to reality and pushing him away. “D-did you just k-kiss me?”

George nods.

Y/N is filled with anger and it starts to bubble up inside of her. “What the fuck George? You’ve been ignoring me all week not answering my calls or texts and-and then you just come here drunk and do that? You can’t come here the night before my wedding and kiss me. It’s not fair!”

George’s shoulders slump, “I’m sorry, I just had to say- that I…” he pauses again, his eyes scanning over Y/N’s face hoping somehow she’s learnt how to mind read.

“What? You had to say what George?” Y/N is aware that she’s yelling but she can’t bring herself to care.

“That I love you.”

Y/N doesn’t speak her brain is running a hundred miles a minute. The silence is unpleasant and unbearable, George looking into Y/N’s eyes trying to read her expression.

“You need to leave,” Y/N utters, her face unmoving.

It’s like George’s feet are glued to the ground, he’s brain is screaming at him to move but he can’t.

“You need to leave George.” Y/N’s voice is firmer this time, “I’m getting married tomorrow and you need to leave right now.”

~~~

George Weasley is an idiot. No, he’s more than an idiot, George Weasley is a dickhead, plain and simple.

He hadn’t been able to fall asleep when he got home, he kept replaying the night over and over. Every time he closed his eyes, he was met with Y/N staring back at him. Except she’s staring with so much disgust it makes George feel sick, he can still hear Y/N’s voice telling him to leave. George Weasley not only managed to lose the life of his life in one night but also his best friend. He feels like a dickhead.

George glances over at the clock next to his bed. 10:30 am. Y/N is getting married in 30 minutes. His chest pains, he thinks he might throw up.

George staggers out of bed and towards the kitchen, he needs water. His journey is interrupted by a harsh knock from the front door. He sighs, he knew Fred would come around to try and convince him to go to the wedding. George figures he couldn’t go to the wedding even if he wanted to, sure that his invitation was no longer valid after last night.

“Fred, seriously I’m not going,” George flings open the door and he almost passes out.

Y/N was standing there looking like an angel, he thinks maybe he died from alcohol poisoning and was actually in heaven. Y/N’s hair was laying loosely across her shoulders, she was wearing a breathtaking white gown which hugged her body perfectly.

George mouth is gaping open his voice coming out breathless and in a whisper, “what-what are you doing here?” He’s half expecting Y/N to slap him across the face for his antics last night.

“I couldn’t do it,” Y/N also whispers, as if this is a secret conversation, only meant for the two of them.

“Why?” George squeaks.

“Because I love you.”

Y/N steps closer and drapes her arms around George’s neck pulling him closer so their foreheads are resting against each other.

As soon as she woke up this morning Y/N felt ill. It wasn’t until she was standing in her wedding dress by the church did she realise why she felt sick. It was because the man that was waiting for her inside the church wasn’t George. Her mum sensed her daughters doubts and offered a comforting hand on her shoulder, “darling, you tell me right now if you want out. I’ll get a car, I’ll sort out this whole thing, you won’t have to worry about a thing.”

Without thinking Y/N had responded, “I want out mum.” That lead to Y/N zooming away in her dad’s car straight for George’s place.

Y/N gazes into George’s warm and gentle eyes, she felt home, “I love you even though you’re an idiot who waited to tell me you loved me till the night before my wedding to someone else.”

George chuckles, “yeah I guess I am but I’m your idiot.”

#inglourious1kwritingchallenge #George Weasley #George Weasley x reader #George Weasley x you #George Weasley Angst #George Weasley fluff #George Weasley oneshot #George Weasley one shot #George weasley fanfiction #Writing challenge

359 notes · View notes

katierosefun · 4 years ago

Note

For the "I wish you would write a fic where. . . ": one where Anakin doesn't turn but the Empire still rises, so it's the disaster trio's hijinks in the rebellion :D

thanks for the prompt, arti!!!! // prompts closed

Anakin knew that that had been a little too close, but no one got hurt, so really…that was all that mattered.

Apparently not according to Obi-Wan, though.

“What were you two thinking?” Obi-Wan asked as soon as Anakin and Ahsoka hopped out of the ship. “Do you two have any idea what kind of trouble you could have gotten into—”

“Got the plans though, didn’t we?” Anakin asked, throwing Obi-Wan the data chip. Obi-Wan caught it one-handed, still scowling. “Oh, come on—you’re welcome, by the way. Ahsoka and I were in and out just like that.”

“Did you see, Master?” Ahsoka asked cheerfully, slinging her pack over her shoulders. “We did some fancy flying back there.”

“Yes, of course I saw,” Obi-Wan said gruffly. “I’m sure people from a star system away could see the tricks you two pulled. Which, by the way, is the point here—the Empire will have known that it was you two with that flourish.”

“What’s the big deal?” Anakin asked, nodding to one of the others passing through the hanger. He helped up with a cargo box, waved as some astromechs hurried over to his ship. “The Empire already knows that it’s usually us anyways.”

“Yes, but the mission was supposed to be covert,” Obi-Wan said, following Anakin through the hanger. “Now thanks to you two, the Empire knows exactly who they’re dealing with. And we agreed, didn’t we? That we would be at least a little more subtle until—”

The lift doors dinged open, and Obi-Wan fell quiet as a few more rebels passed through. They grinned at Anakin and Ahsoka before passing through, and then the three of them all piled into the lift.

Anakin turned to Obi-Wan. His former master’s brows were still furrowed together, one hand worrying at his beard. Anakin had a weird feeling that one day, Obi-Wan would just pull all the hair off his face. He would have found that image funny if Anakin didn’t realize that oh, Obi-Wan was actually being serious this time around.

“Okay,” Anakin said. “Okay—Ahsoka and I will be more careful next time. No more fancy tricks. Right, Snips?”

“Right,” Ahsoka said, nodding quickly. “You can count on us, Master.”

Obi-Wan looked at the two of them, sighed. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he muttered, “It won’t matter. They already know we’re all alive now—there’s no point in trying to pretend otherwise at this point.”

Anakin felt a little bit of guilt now. “Listen,” he said. “I’m sorry that we gave ourselves away. But we knew it was going to happen sooner or later, right?”

“It shouldn’t have happened so soon,” Obi-Wan snapped.

Anakin brought his hands up. “I know,” he said. “I know.”

The lift continued up, the lights flashing over the three of them.

At last, Obi-Wan sighed. “I know you two are capable of handling yourselves,” he said at last. “But remember—we need to be—”

“Careful,” Ahsoka finished. “Make sure we don’t get caught, we know.”

“Make sure you do,” Obi-Wan murmured.

The lift doors opened, and the three of them looked at each other.

Anakin offered a halfhearted smile—come on, old man—smile for me this time, at least?

Obi-Wan just gave an exasperated sigh, shaking his head. “Come along,” he said. “We shouldn’t keep Bail waiting.”

#my fic #now i'm mildly intrigued by this #also listening to aurora sing 'take me home where i belong' while writing this made me :'))#but also :'((( because me writing this: what's going on here #obi-wan: idk #me: bro can u tell me what's going on #obi-wan: don't feel like it #me: [confused sounds]

66 notes · View notes

emmies-archives · 4 years ago

Text

My Only

I haven’t made a request before so pls forgive me if I’m doing this wrong, but i thought (from song prompts 2) number 3 and number 18 could be cute? With either bakugou or todoroki? Bonus points if theres some pining and ends happily :) if not ofc I’m happy to read whatever you do!

Song prompts:

3. “Trust me, Darling.” Bad Liar by Imagine Dragons. 18. “Push me out, I’ll pull you close.” What You’re Made of by Lindsey Stirling.

Todoroki Shoto x Female Reader.

Word Count: 3.4K

Genre: Some angst, lots of fluff

Warnings: Endeavor being d*ck, cursing, slight nsfw mentions at end

Summary: Endeavor holds a charity ball. Shoto invites you as his date as your relationship has grown stronger. Endeavor tries to break the two of you up a few times, Shoto stands up for you twice, you stand up for Shoto once when Endeavor works behind his back. It only strengthens your relationship, bringing you even closer.

Everywhere you looked there were lights. Twinkling in sync like they were dancing to the soft music playing in the background. There was a warmth shifting through the room, despite the harsh chill outside. You could feel the warm drafts envelope you as they moved between others and the tables they sat at. Mixing in with the flames swaying at each table’s centerpiece. Everything was so beautiful and calm. It was as though nothing could break the trance the night had put on everyone.

Enji Todoroki always had a way about him that tended to ruin things for you though, especially because you were attending the charity ball he had set up. The first time he managed to get under your skin for the day was when you were getting ready. Shoto had offered for you to come over early to his house to get ready for the ball.

He had asked you the first chance he’d gotten to be his date for his father’s ball. It was an easy decision; it was no secret that you both had been feeling something for each other. At first, you both really didn’t understand what it was that you were feeling, but after the villain attack in the forest, the only person on each of your minds was each other. After that, the two of you had begun to study together, you went out to eat with only each other. It seemed like any chance Shoto got he asked to spend it with you, whether if it was in his dorm or the common areas, out somewhere, or just simply training.

He asked you one night as you both lay on his bed, both scrolling mindlessly on your phones if you wanted to meet his siblings. Of course, you said yes immediately wanting to know more about his private life and just more about him in general. You knew his family was a touchy subject for him and you were excited and happy that he trusted you enough to let you in on it. He warned you several times the day of to be wary of his father. That Enji would most likely try to pick you apart, to see exactly why Shoto was so fond of you.

You didn’t expect it to be so awful though. Before he arrived, you helped Fuyumi prep and cook the meal while Shoto stood at one of the counters watching. You could tell Fuyumi was so excited to see that Shoto brought someone home, let alone a girl. Every time she asked you something about Shoto you could feel the tips of your ears burning, even though you loved the butterflies that danced in your stomach.

“I so excited to finally meet you, Y/n!” Fuyumi said excitedly when you finished preparing dinner, “Shoto has been talking about you for as long as I can remember, and I couldn’t help thinking maybe you were made up! You seemed so perfect! How Shoto managed to snag you beats me, Hon.”

You saw Shoto glare at his sister and she just grinned at him, her nose scrunching up. “Oh no, that’s not true!” You said you were starting to get even more flustered. Fuyumi started to speak again but she was interrupted when someone burst into the dining room.

“Hey! Quick pestering little Sho’s girlfriend, Fuyumi.” Your heart jumped at the guy’s words, then he turned to you. “I’m Shoto’s older brother, Natsuo. Nice to meet you, Y/n.” He pulled you into a quick hug, “Don’t mind her, Fuyumi has always wanted a younger sister.” Natsuo said and moved to Shoto, wrapping an arm around his neck and ruffling his hair. “But on a real note, if you need me to beat him up just let me know. I’ll help you out.” Natsuo winked at you and laughed when Shoto shoved his arm off.

You were starting to really enjoy the energy of the siblings. It was refreshing to see. It only lasted a short while longer until a door slammed. Everyone in the room visibly stiffened, and the air grew heavy. A moment later, Enji Todoroki walked through the threshold of the dining room. He clapped his hands together before pulling out his chair to sit down, his eyes never seemed to stray from you from the moment he entered the room. “Well, is everyone ready? I’m starved.” Everyone followed his lead in sitting down. “I would love to get to know you, miss Y/n.”

Next to you, you could see Shoto clenching his teeth. He looked so stressed. You moved your foot nudging him; he turned his attention to you from the plate in front of him. You smiled at him and noticed his expression soften, and a small smile form on his face as well.

Enji wasted no time in bombarding you with questions, ranging from about you and your quirk, to your family and your home life. It was literally exhausting answering each one, searching for the right answer seemed impossible and it was hard to tell if the ones you gave satisfied him. All he ever gave in response was a grunt or a nod, then more questions followed. Once dinner was finally done, Shoto grabbed your hand immediately and started to pull you from your seat.

“Follow me, y/n.” He said softly once he saw your confusion. You started to follow him until Enji stopped you both.

“Stop.” His loud, steady voice said. Shoto stopped his pace and turned to glare at his father.

“What now?” Shoto asked, rolling his eyes.

“I want to say I am not impressed with your choice to bring this girl home, Shoto. She does not meet anywhere near my expectations of what I thought I taught you.” Enji spoke like you weren’t in the room with him.

“Are you kidding me, you have no right to say anything about her.” Shoto snapped back and started to pull you out of the room again. “We’re done with this now.”

“I did not enjoy having you here, miss Y/n,” Enji stated, locking eyes on you as you left the room.

The rest of the night was better than everything Enji had put you through before. Shoto had brought you to his room, he needed to cool off before you left for the dorms. He was visibly angry at his father’s words. You moved next to him, sitting on the edge of the bed, and laced your fingers through his.

“Hey,” You said softly. “Forget what he said.”

“Usually I do, but I don’t think I can. He insulted you, Y/n.” Shoto said and sighed. “Everything he did down there was absolutely uncalled for.”

“You’re right, it was very uncalled for. But I don’t care what he said at all, even if it was shitty.” You said back to him, and he turned to look at you. “All I care about is how you feel, and that your siblings are there for you.”

“What I feel?” Shoto asked it was soft like he was asking himself.

“Yeah. It doesn’t matter what your father says about anything, what you feel is right.” You said, and a small smile started to grow on his face. “Does that make sense, Shoto?”

“Yeah, I think so.” He said and grabbed your hands. “I feel like I want to kiss you right now.”

That made you laugh, even though butterflies erupted inside of you. “Then do it.”

Shoto moved in to press his lips against yours. It was slow and soft at first, then he pulled you closer. It was like all the pent-up stress he was holding from dinner melted away at your touch, your lips moving in sync with his. He was the first one to pull away, he had put you under a spell.

“Thank you for making me feel better, Y/n.” Shoto said, his forehead pressed against yours.

“Always, Shoto.”

You ended up staying in his room for the night instead of going back to the dorms. It was too far away and all you wanted to do was cuddle up in bed with him. Wrapped in his arms and wearing a pair of shorts and a shirt he gave you, it felt like something you’d been yearning for had finally come true.

The time you spent with Shoto after that night seemed different. It felt more special, more whole. You weren’t wondering how he felt anymore, there was no need. He told you all the time. How special you were. How happy he was when he was with you. There was nothing between the two of you until Enji stepped in yet again.

The afternoon of the charity ball you were in Shoto’s room getting ready. He had gone out with Natsuo to get a last-minute suit adjustment for his brother. You had just finished zipping up your dress when a knock sounded at the door. When you opened it, the happy mood you were in faltered.

“Oh,” Enji said, a frown visible on his face. “Where is Shoto?”

“I believe he went out with Natsuo to get something.” You said stepping back away from the door.

“I need to speak with him.” He said, and you almost couldn’t stop from rolling your eyes.

“He has his phone on him I think, did you try calling him?” You asked, trying not to sound too rude. It was like Enji didn’t even think before barging to Shoto’s room.

“Not yet. I will soon.” He said and looked at his watch. “I suppose I could talk to you right now too.”

You waited for a moment for him to talk, but he didn’t say anything. “Okay? Anything in particular you need?”

“I’ll put it simply. I do not like you being with my son. Nothing good will come of it. I do not see a future with you in his life.” Enji said, bluntly.

“Excuse me?” You asked. You always knew Enji did not like you dating his son, but this seemed out of nowhere.

“It’ll be better if you end it sooner than later. I have big plans for him, and I do not want your petty little high school romance to ruin his career.” He pulled something out of his back pocket, it was a checkbook. “Of course, I would reimburse you. Name a price and it’s yours.”

“This has to be a joke, right?” You couldn’t believe what was happening. Nothing like this had ever happened to you, and you never thought Enji would even do this.

“I am not joking, miss Y/n,” Enji said, sighing at your blank stare and silence. “I didn’t want to tell you this, but tonight I will be having a young girl of equal promise meet with Shoto. If all goes well, they will be engaged tonight. I’d rather not have you there to mess it all up. So, name a price and I will have someone drive you home right now.”

“No.” You said, shaking your head.

“What?” Enji questioned, he raised an eyebrow like he couldn’t believe you.

“I won’t. You can’t force us apart.” You said louder, you were starting to get very frustrated.

Before Enji could say anything else, a door slammed shut and you could hear the boys back already. Shoto was home earlier than expected. “So be it, Y/n. He will no longer be yours by the end of the night anyway.”

He left the room after that. All you could do was stand, staring at the door where Shoto’s father stood. Enji Todoroki was a monster. You could feel tears pricking the back of your eyes, trying to crawl out.

“Y/n? Are you ready, love?” Shoto called from the hallway. You turned around quickly, grabbing your bag. “Some of the boys from our class are here already, it’s almost time to get going.” You heard him walk through the door, and you were all but kicking yourself to shake away what happened. “Y/n? Is everything okay?” Shoto asked softly, placing a hand on your elbow.

You turned to him nodded quickly. “Yeah, I, um. I just got a feeling I was forgetting something, but I remembered what it was.”

“Oh, good.” He said, smiling once he took in your outfit. “You look stunning.”

“Thank you, Shoto.” You said smiling, then pull him close to you. Moving your lips to meet his you sighed slightly when he wrapped his arms around your waist, kissing you back.

“What was that for?” Shoto asked once you pulled away. “Not that I’m complaining.”

“Just missed you, and I’m excited about the ball.” You said. Hopefully, you could get your mind off of the conversation you had with Enji before you reached the hall.

A smile sat on your lips as you watched your friends dancing to the soft, slow music. Everyone looked so good tonight. So far you had been having a wonderful time, you had managed to even forget everything that happened with Enji. Dancing with Shoto a few times and sneaking a couple kisses helped a lot.

Though, it had been nearly thirty minutes since you had seen Shoto. You had been so distracted by your friends; you hadn’t realized how long it had been. Leaving the seat at your table you went to look for him. Then you saw Enji. He had a smug look on his face when you held his gaze, and your heart jumped.

“Oh no.” You muttered to yourself. You knew exactly where Shoto was now. Enji had taken him to meet some random girl, to steal him from you. Following Enji’s gesture toward the doors of the balcony, you made your way to them. Once you were on the threshold your heart fell as you saw Shoto. An absolutely gorgeous girl stood not even a foot away from him, her arms were dangerously close to being wrapped around them. This was it, you thought. The last time you’d be able to see Shoto before Enji’s horrible hands tore your relationship apart. How could Shoto resist the ‘perfect’ girl?

You gathered all the courage remaining in you and stepped onto the balcony. “Shoto?”

He turned to you, and you could feel tears in the corner of your eyes once again. “Y/n?”

“What do you want?” The girl sneered at you, her hands now resting around Shoto’s neck, his around her waist.

“Shut up.” You said through gritted teeth. So much for all the time, you spent on your makeup. The tears falling down now surely was ruining it.

“You need to leave!” She yelled at you, standing up straight now. “Don’t interrupt us!”

“No, you need to leave.” You all but growled once you were close to them, “Stop touching my boyfriend.”

“Your Boyfriend? I don’t think so.” The girl let go of his neck and her face almost turned into a snarl.

Shoto turned to the girl, a confused look on his face. “I thought you just fainted, Kanna.”

The girls, Kanna’s face went red, and she whipped toward him. “Oh, I did, Shocchan! I just, your strong arms helped me feel better.”

“I didn’t think it worked like that.” He said bluntly.

“It doesn’t, Shoto.” You said and stepped between them. Kanna squealed slightly and stomped her foot, it looked like she was beginning to throw a tantrum.

“Go away you freak!!” She yelled at you and tried to push you away. Her hands landed on Shoto however, he had moved between you and Kanna at the perfect moment.

His expression turned dark, “Don’t even try it, Kanna.”

“Oh! Shoto, I’m sorry. She is just being so annoying, ruining our special time together.” Kanna pouted.

“She isn’t ruining anything. You are. Don’t ever insult or threaten my girlfriend ever again.” Shoto moved his arm letting her hands fall from him. “Leave my sight before I do something I surely will regret.”

Kanna burst into tears, running towards the doors to the ballroom. You heard her cry out Enji’s name as she did. Shoto turned to you, and the dark expression still on his face. You had never seen him look so threatening and so hot at the same time. When he saw the tears on your face though, it fell in an instant.

“Y/n! Are you okay? What’s the matter?” Shoto questioned, holding your arms and staring into your eyes. He brought his hand up to wipe the stray tears on your cheeks.

“I, um.” You whispered; you could almost feel the concern in his eyes. “I don’t want to tell you.”

“Is it about her? Don’t worry, I promise. She is one of my father’s puppets.” He said, a small frown falling onto his features. “Once in a while, my father will send her my way in hopes of us getting engaged.”

For some reason, you felt yourself breathe a sigh of relief. “I thought…. Shoto I was so scared I was going to lose you!”

“You won't ever lose me.” Shoto said pulling you close into a hug. You didn’t know when you had started shivering but you felt it now. He leaned close, his lips brushing your ear. “Trust me, darling, you’re my only one.”

A sob of relief broke out at his words and you buried your face into his chest. You had never felt that way before, it was devastating. After a few moments of just holding each other, you pulled away to look up at him.

“Your father is the worst man I ever met.” You spoke, gaining a sharp laugh from Shoto.

“You have never spoken truer words.” He smiled at you, and he noticed you were still a bit tense. “Was there anything else bothering you, love.”

“Your father,” You started, breathing in deeply. “He told me to leave you, he tried to pay me to end what we have. He said there was no future for me with you.”

“That bastard.” Shoto growled and started to move from your grasp toward the doors.

“Wait!” You cupped his face pulling him into a kiss. It was deep, rushed. It took your breath away and it stopped Shoto in his tracks. You pulled away for breath. “Shoto, I said no. That I would never leave you. I couldn’t ever.”

“I knew you wouldn’t, y/n. I fell in love with you for a reason.” He said breathlessly. Butterflies soared from your stomach up to your heart, warming your body where they touched. The music inside grew louder, and he grabbed your hand, starting to dance along with the slow music.

You moved along gracefully with the music. Following Shoto’s lead, he was an amazing dancer. When he dipped you, a giggle left your mouth. He pulled you back up and you kissed him again. “I love you too, Shoto.”

“Even if forced you to leave me, Y/n.” Shoto began, stopping the dance. Pulling you close, your bodies flush. “Push me out, I’ll pull you closer. I’ve never had something that meant so much to me.”

You shivered at his words combining with the cold in your bones. Shoto shrugged off his suit jacket, wrapping it around your shoulders. He grinned at you, then bowed slightly, his hand out.

“Can I have this dance, darling?” He asked, staring at you through long eyelashes

“Absolutely, Sho.” You placed your hand in his.

He leaned close to your ear again. “You know what we should do, Y/n? Use my father’s credit card and take this to a hotel, the night is still very young. I want to show you just how much I love you.”

#shoto todoroki #todoroki x reader #shoto todoroki imagine #todoroki shoto imagine #todoroki shoto x reader #bnha todoroki #bnha #my hero imagine #todoroki shoto oneshot #todoroki oneshot #todoroki bnha #shoto imagine #todoroki fanfiction #todoroki fluff #shoto fluff

140 notes · View notes

mihidecet · 4 years ago

Text

Sbi D&D AU: Tommy (3)

AKA: Tibi’s MCYT WritingTober, day 12.

I’m back with more d&d! I jumped on today’s “Fanmade AU” prompt from @the-only-gamer-gost ‘s list IMMEDIATELY, because after all most of you started following me due to that ahah

I hope you’ll enjoy it! <3 Maybe leave a comment if you do? I always love to hear your feedback, and maybe ideas on what you’d like to see? In any case, thank you for reading!

That is how, about four hours later, Tommy finds himself sitting on his bed, legs crossed and fingers tangling in the threads he's trying to weave together.

It's a mix of light blues, pinks and reds that Techno called "a weird choice, but whatever floats your boat", which had sent his patron into hysterical laughter. Tommy had hoped he'd been sarcastic, as he'd colour-picked from Techno's own outfit.

But one could never be too sure with the Blade: he was a cryptic man, with a cryptic past and an unwavering unwillingness to share anything about what he thought about, anytime, about anything.

Which was fine. Tommy liked guessing, and he considered himself smart enough to be able to start picking up clues. Most of the time.

He was no Phil, who was apparently able to understand everyone, everywhere, at any time. Even animals, too, which had been a concerning discovery. Not the fact that he could understand and be understood by animals, that was perfectly fine once considering he had horns due to making a literal deal with a demon, and Techno was half pig. It was just that Tommy had found out Phil could speak with animals by finding the elf in deep conversation with a passing squirrel - who had apparently been extremely rude and stolen some of the nuts Phil had been gathering. The disagreement had been resolved by splitting the nuts evenly, as the squirrel had had a family to feed.

The thing was, Tommy had had a chance to talk about the infamous friendship bracelets with the other two as they'd walked back to the tavern, and by now he knew that all three of them owned one. But what Phil hadn't neglected to comment on was that - to his knowledge - Techno didn't own one. Which made sense, on a certain level. He was the one making them, and he seemed to own the strings to make them. Phil had been meaning to buy one to gift him, but he's said he knew it wouldn't have been the same. And he couldn't ask Techno where he could find the materials needed and keep it as a surprise. Not to mention that he didn't know how to replicate the intricate weaves and knots of the bracelets; he could try, but he knew he wouldn't be able to easily succeed.

Which left Tommy with the perfect chance.

The plan was simple.

Techno had offered to help him rebuild his bracelet, but he’d never explicitly said if Tommy was going to weave his own or if Techno was going to make him a second one.

So, once they were all fed and satisfyingly comfortable, Techno would take out his threads and start working on it. Then, with his usual enthusiasm, Tommy would ask if he could also help. Maybe by learning how to weave together bracelets himself.

Techno would humm, but probably give in after a bit of insistence. He never really enjoyed verbal conflict, and Tommy was counting on that.

Then everything would be set! Tommy would choose the colours for Techno’s bracelet, make it with his help, and everything would be good!

As of right now, most of the steps in his plan have gone off without a hitch.

The only thing not working perfectly well is his own skills at weaving - maybe once he used to have an artisan’s hands, but now they’re clumsy, less sensible. The effects of not being used to his newly found powers at first had been to constantly - and accidentally - set his own hands on fire. With permanent scars up to his elbows and a handful of points where the burns charred away his sensibility, he’s not much one for delicate and precise work.

But Tommy is nothing if not determination personified, so he grabs each strand with too shaky hands and does his damned best.

Techno is sitting across from him, also on the bed, mirroring his posture and slowly explaining each braiding step. His voice is lower than usual, a side effect of being extremely tired, but he’s not snappish or strict. He’s unexpectedly calm and mellow: Tommy wonders if it’s the exhaustion or just how Techno behaves when they’re not in life-or-death related situations.

All things considered, once he understands what he has to do, the slow, repetitive movement becomes extremely soothing. He can see Techno doing this to relax in the few moments of downtime their lives allow them.

They're not alone in the room.

Phil is meditating on one of the other two beds in the room. He’d been drained after the fight, looking after them all and taking care of the few civilians that got injured due to the attack.

After they’d gotten back into the room, he’d disappeared for a moment in order to go bathe, then returned, given them all a final look and then promptly passed out on the bed with a smile on his face.

Wilbur had made sure to fix the covers around him.

The tiefling was currently also sleeping, but he was stationed on the same bed Techno and Tommy were sitting on. It made for a bit of a cramped situation, but Techno had stated that he wasn’t going to move anymore if it wasn’t to go to sleep, and Wilbur had said that he always took the bed closer to the window.

So there he was: curled up between them, one leg on Tommy’s lap and his back pressed against Techno’s side.

If Tommy had been any less observant and in the mood for a discussion, he would have mentioned how Techno could have easily moved half a meter away in order to be extremely more comfortable, or how Wilbur usually just chose any random available bed.

But he was tired and he had other objectives - he was already planning on bothering Techno, getting him annoyed would only be counter-productive. And Tommy was also quite observant: he still remembered how Techno had jumped into a blow aimed at Wil’s throat just a couple of hours earlier, saving his life and efficiently dispatching of the brute trying to kill him.

Everyone was still feeling a bit messed up after all those close calls, there was no need to state the obvious. Especially when saying nothing meant Tommy could feel the warmth of Will’s still very much alive body against him.

It doesn’t take much time; they’re bracelets after all, you can only make them so long.

Tommy stares at the one in his hands, and is suddenly filled with so many contrasting feelings.

Joy is the first, of course. He’s been able to achieve so much since he left his hometown, and everything he’s achieved has been due to his own determination and intelligence. He might not be the smartest person ever - he can name at least one, even though that doesn’t necessarily mean he will - but even he can’t deny how well he’s been able to play the cards he’s been dealt.

Then there’s shock, at the realisation that he has actually become friends with the legend he used to hear people talk about in hushed whispers while he was still living in his hometown.

Melancholy is another: a part of him longs for what - who - he left behind.

Then he feels like he needs to get better at making bracelets, and maybe sleep for a couple of days. His back is hurting and the scabs on his arms are already itching up a storm and it is "bored patron with too much free time" levels of annoying.

As Tommy stomps down the protests of his patron inside his own head, he hears Techno hum lightly to catch his attention.

"You're done? I finished yours. Unless you prefer to keep the one you made yourself." Techno comments, offering the bracelet he's just completed. Wilbur shifts slightly as he's lightly jostled when Techno reaches towards Tommy, but he goes right back to sleeping.

Tommy gives him an honest smile and a heartfelt "thank you", then wastes no time in grabbing his new friendship bracelet: a stunning thing in black, red and orange that looks as fierce as he is powerful.

"And here, this is yours." Tommy says, after a moment of unabashedly admiring the stunning handiwork he now owned. It wasn't like his old one, but it still felt the same - the meaning of it was intact, and the shape and colours were similar. One could even say that now it meant more: after all, they'd made it together, in what nobody could deny had been a true bonding moment.

Tommy's hand, holding the bracelet he made, stretches out towards Techno.

There's a distinct pause as Techno's hands hovers in the air and his eyes widen in what looks like pure shock - Tommy has *never* seen anything like it, Technoblade is never surprised. And yet.

"Uh?"

Tommy decides it is getting a bit too warm in the room, as doubts and worries start filling his mind: what if he doesn't like it, it looks so bad compared to the ones Techno made, after all it's his first try, he should have asked for more string to practice and made him a really good one. The young man pushes the bracelet into Techno's hand hastily - the sooner this is over with, the better.

"We figured you didn't make one for yourself, so I made you one. Consider it as from all of us. Now you're *our* friend, Techno, and there's nothing you can do about it!" He concludes with a proud grin, hoping it masks his internal worry. Thankfully, he's still fearless enough to keep eye contact, because that allows him to see Techno's face simply melt as his fingers wrap around the bracelet once, then open up to allow him to study it closely - Tommy would call it reverently, but then his patron would laugh again.

"... Thank you." Techno murmurs a few moments later, and with that all of Tommy's fears and doubts are smashed like fragile glass, scattering into the nothingness. A bright smile opens up on his face and he's unable to stop himself from beaming as he lightly punches his friend's shoulder.

"No problem, big guy. ... Now, where do I put this so that nobody accidentally breaks it again?" He asks, tone light and humorous in hope of exiting quickly the sweet moment they'd entered, which was turning into awkwards at the speed of light.

"Well, if you have like a necklace, you could tie it there and keep it hidden under all your shirts." Techno drawls out, sounding more and more tired as he goes on.

Tommy decides it's as good a time as any to finally hit the hay, so he stands up and stretches his back - reveling in the satisfying pops that follow.

"That is a smart idea, big guy. Have you been sitting on it for a while?" Tommy jokes, starting to fix his bed.

"Well, it was actually Phil that did it first. He tied it to the same necklace he keeps his engagement ring on."

Tommy chuckles, Phil always knows best- his arm freezes in the air, one hand still holding his pack because he'd been meaning to look for something he could use as a necklace but now his brain is just static.

He turns back towards Techno, who is staring back with a mix of sheepishness and confusion.

"What- what do you mean engagement?" Tommy asks in a feeble voice and Techno just rubs the back of his neck shrugging.

"He's supposed to get married when he goes back, apparently."

Tommy starts gesticulating wildly, pointing first at Phil, then at Techno, then at the world around them as he loudly mumbles his way into about twenty different beginnings of sentences before his shoulders drop and he shuts his mouth.

A beat passes.

And to be honest, Tommy is too tired to be thinking about this, but-

"What do you mean go back? Is he gonna leave us?" He asks, and Techno looks extremely uncomfortable on the other side of the room. Instead of an answer coming from him, the voice that speaks first comes from behind Tommy.

"I'm not gonna leave you, Tommy. If anything, I plan on bringing you all for the ceremony." Phil mumbles, scratching his stubble as he sits up on the bed. Damned elves and their need for just a handful of hours of sleep, now Tommy has to feel awkward for nothing.

Phil stands up with a groan, then stretches; taking a couple of steps forward, he nods at Techno as he claps a hand on Tommy's shoulder.

"Help me push the beds together?"

"Only if Wilbur gets up, I'm not moving the bed with him on it." Techno deadpans, moving to the bed Phil's closest to in order to help him lift it - they're not getting thrown out of the tavern for being too loud at three in the morning.

A deep chuckle comes from the ball that is Wilbur's not-so-sleeping body, and his performance is betrayed even more by how his tail starts swishing left and right.

"But what if I asked please?" Wilbur says, one eye peeking from his crossed arms.

"Then you're staying there with that bed." Techno replies instantly and a moment later the bed between him and Phil is lifted.

Wilbur huff, rolls out of bed, waltzes towards Tommy - messes up his hair just because he's in a good mood - and quips back:

"You're no fun, Technoblade."

A couple of minutes later, once they've all found their places on the bed, Tommy is resting with his head against Phil's chest and his tail wrapped around Techno's leg - a mirror to Wilbur's which is tied around the arm slung over his side.

It's comforting, and warm, and Phil's carding his hand through his hair.

Techno's new friendship bracelet is an unfamiliar feeling pressed against his chest, but he knows he'll get used to it.

Stifling a yawn, Tommy whispers:

"Congrats on your marriage, big guy."

Just so that Phil's wheeze is the last thing he hears before he falls asleep.

#mcyt writingtober #sbi dnd au #dnd au #sbi au #technoblade #tommyinnit #wilbur soot #philza #ph1lza

104 notes · View notes

strongerwiththepack · 4 years ago

Note

I got explosive device and storage unit, with Gordon? :D

Finally my boi! This is definitely the last one for the day but if anyone wants to leave anymore of these Whump Generator prompts for me feel free! I’ve really enjoyed writing them today <3 Thanks for the ask, hope you enjoy x

Gordon & Explosive Device & Storage Unit

“Okay that should be it.” Gordon nodded to the storage unit personnel as the doors to the escape pod whooshed shut. Water drained from the pipes past Gordons feet before the submersible pod detached from the unit.

Underwater storage units were very popular nowadays. Mostly for industrial use, big companies used them for long-term storage. They weren’t usually staffed, except for maintenance purposes. Too bad the maintenance was the most common cause of an accident. Today was one of those situations.

The airlock doors had gotten jammed with half a meter of open space letting the unforgiving ocean overtake the facility. The escape pods had shut down due to water damage but Brains had talked him through how to override the failsafe and activate the pumps.

“All personnel are heading up to the surface now Thunderbird Two. Heading back to Four.”

“FAB Gordon, good job.”

Gordon waded his way through the knee-deep rushing water. He’d honestly have preferred if it had been entirely submerged, then at least he could’ve swam it. His eyebrows knotted together as he noticed flashing up ahead. He trudged his way forward to check it out before gasping in alarm.

He swiftly turned back the way he came, moving with much more urgency as he splashed through the water.

“Thunderbird Two, the chaos crew is here!” Gordon panted. “Fuse has left a bomb inside the facility.”

“Dammit, get out of there Gordon!” Virgil growled over the comm.

“Trying!” Gordon ground out. “I’ll go through the-“

Gordon was thrown forward as the explosive detonated. He felt the heat lick at his back even through the suit and fell painfully into the water. The flow became much stronger and debris now littered the stream.

“Gordon!” Virgil was shouting over the comms. “Answer me!”

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” Gordon groaned as he kneeled in the water. He heard Virgil sigh in relief on the other end of the comm.

“Can you get out?” Virgil asked. “Scott and Kayo are on their way.”

Gordon looked back at where the explosive had been. The blast had further damaged the integrity of the unit, water was gushing through. The lights flickered as sparks flew from the destroyed wall.

Then he heard beeping. Turning his head, he saw another bomb blinking rapidly to his right.

Too close. Too close. Gordon thought as he scrambled to his feet but it was two late. The second explosion went off and all he felt was a searing burning before he slammed into something solid and everything went black.

“Gordon! Gordon, please respond!” Virgil pleaded across the comms.

He opened up another channel. “Scott there’s been another explosion! Gordon isn’t responding.”

“I’m still 10 minutes out Virgil.” Scott replied regretfully over the comm.

Another explosion rocked the storage unit and Virgil cried out in alarm as the structure continued to crumble.

“I’m going down there.” Virgil declared as he unbuckled his harness and stalked down to the module area. “John, can you remote pilot Four back to the surface?” He knew his space-bound brother was listening in.

John’s FAB was drowned out as Scott interrupted. “It’s too dangerous Virgil. What if there are more explosives? What if the chaos crew are still down there?”

“All the more reason to get Gordon sooner rather than later.” Virgil replied calmly as he pulled his helmet over his head. “I’m going.”

“Thunderbird Four has breached the surface.” John reported before Scott could protest further.

“Just be careful Virgil.” Scott demanded. “Please.”

“I will Scott.” Virgil softened. “Heading down.”

Thunderbirds Four was always an uncomfortable fit for him. His shoulders were too wide for the seat and it always felt claustrophobic. This wasn’t a choice though. He grit his teeth as he manoeuvred the small submersible down to the flooding storage facility. Moving around the structure, he started scanning it using his brothers Bird. The scans were sent straight up to Thunderbird Five.

“Anything John?” He queried once he’d been round the building once.

“There may be a small opening on the lower right side.” John relayed as a map and route appeared in front of Virgil “But the inside is flooded with debris, it’ll be hard to get through to him.”

“I’ll manage.” Virgil promised before bracing himself to be flipped backwards into the water.

He swam forward once he oriented himself, the holographic map flashing from his watch. He turned on his shoulder torch as he reached the opening. He easily pulled himself though as a small current of water was still flooding the facility. The water was almost up to the ceiling, it would be fully flooded soon.

Virgil’s first problem presented itself. There was a wall of debris currently cutting him off from his brothers location, this was going to be a slow process. He’d just started shifting some beams when a gasp came across the comms.

“Gordon!” He and Scott both exclaimed.

Virgil continued. “Gordon, are you okay?”

Gordon’s harsh breathing continued to sound in his ear. “Virg?” Gordon croaked.

Virgil’s heartrate spiked as worry surfaced once more.

“Yeah, I’m here fish, I’m coming to get you.”

Gordon moaned through clenched teeth. “M’trapped.”

“Just stay calm Gordon, what can you move?” Virgil queried gently as he started moving debris away faster.

He could hear his brother shifting through the comm before the younger blond gave a sharp cry of pain that turned into a sob.

Panic flared through Virgil. “Gords, what’s wrong?”

“The whole left side of my suit is burned.” Gordon gritted out before taking a few panicked breathes. “And there’s urghh-there’s a slab of concrete on my chest.”

There was a shrill beeping from Gordon’s end.

“What’s that?” Virgil asked, fearing it was another bomb.

“M-my oxygen meter.” Gordon groaned. “My suit was damaged in the explosion. I only have a few minutes of air left.”

Virgil heart thudded so loud he was sure it could be heard over the comms.

Gordon gave an almost hysterical laugh. “Not looking great for me is it?” His voice cracked at the end and his breathing shuddered to reveal his true feelings.

“Just relax Gords, breathe slow.” Virgil soothed, trying to keep his voice steady. “We’ll get you out of this.”

He switched channels so that Gordon couldn’t hear him anymore. “There’s no way I can shift all this stuff in time.” Virgil relayed urgently. “We need a new plan.”

He heard John typing frantically in the background. “Your laser won’t be strong enough underwater to cut through any of the walls.” John mumbled. “And Thunderbird Four won’t be able to get far enough into the facilities for you to use her laser. There’s not enough time to construct a pod-“

“I don’t need to hear what we can’t do John!” Virgil grumbled. “I need an option here.”

“I’m looking Virgil!” John shot back.

“Cool it, both of you.” Scott barked. “We need to keep a level head here. Treat it like any other rescue.”

Virgil took a deep shaky breath. “FAB. Sorry John.”

There was no answer from his space-bound brother and Virgil didn’t want to interrupt him even though the seconds were ticking by far too quickly.

“I’ve got it!” John finally said. “There’s a surface protocol built into the facility that will activate the buoyancy balloons and bring it to the surface. The control room is to your left Virgil, looks like a clear path.”

Virgil was already swimming that way as Scott spoke. “Won’t he be crushed without the water providing some buoyancy to the concrete?”

John hummed. “It looks like it’s just one slab on top of Gordon but surfacing the building could cause further structural damage, so yes it’s a risk but-“

“But we don’t have any other choice.” Virgil finished for him as he reached the control room. “What am I looking for John?”

“Red lever on the wall by the door.”

Virgil spied said lever and grabbed it, forcing it down through the resistance of the water. Nothing seemed to happen at first and Virgil’s heart sank. This was their last chance. Then the building shuddered and Virgil could hear the whoosh of air as the bags below the structure inflated. They started to rise.

“Virgil, I’ve mapped a new route for you to Gordon. Once the water drains, your laser should be able to cut through that wall to get to Gordon.” John relayed.

“FAB.” He switched comm channels again as he swam back to his brother once more. “Gordon! We’re heading to the surface, just hang tight.”

Gordon’s wheezing breath came across the comm. “FAB.”

“There might be a bit of pressure once the water drains but I’ll be right there. We’re going to get you out of this.” Virgil was trying to convince himself just as much as Gordon.

He could tell as soon as they breached the surface, the currents increased as the water started to drain away. The building groaned dramatically and Virgil held his breath but it seemed to hold.

Once the water was at shoulder height Virgil activated his laser, cutting through the top half of the wall, impatiently waiting for more of the water to drain.

Gordon gave a choked grunt when he was almost though, crying out in pain before going eerily silent. Virgil decided he’d cut far enough at that point and finished off the incision, pushing the chuck of concrete through to the other side.

He clambered through the hole and immediately set sights on his brother. Gordon was lying on top of a collapsed wall with a thick slab of concrete pinning him down. The left side of his helmet was charred black and Virgil feared for the state of his suit once he removed the slab.

His brother was unresponsive as he set up the load-bearing stands at three key points under the concrete. Once he activated them, they slowly began to raise the debris. As soon as it was safe to do so, Virgil carefully slid his brother out from under it.

He removed his brothers helmet checking his airways. Breathing was weak but there. The worst part were the burns down Gordon’s suit. From the neck to his hip, the neoprene fabric was charred and melted. Virgil could see areas where the fabric was melted into Gordon skin and he shuddered.

“Hey fish” He choked, running a hand through his brother hair. “Told you we’d get you out. Maybe open those eyes for me in return?”

Gordon face remained slack and he sighed as he took out his portable medscanner. Scott clambered through the hole in the wall, pulling a hover stretcher with him, just as he got the readings.

“Aw Gords” Scott sighed as he knelt down on the other side of him, pacing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “What does the scan say?”

“Third-degree burns all down his side, cracked ribs from the concrete, possible concussion.” Virgil grimaced as he read it off. “We need to get him to a hospital.”

“FAB.” Scott sighed as they expertly lifted him onto the hover stretcher, the lack of response from their brother at the movement was alarming.

Virgil sighed as he took another sip of the 4th terrible cup of hospital coffee he’d consumed. Gordon had been in surgery for 3 hours now and they still hadn’t heard anything. John and Kayo were working with the GDF to try and track down the chaos crew. Virgil clenched his fists. They’d gone too far this this time. He had no more chances left to give them.

“I think we should do some more underwater rescue training.” Virgil said suddenly. Scott, the only other occupant in the room, turned towards him.

Virgil continued. “We’re out of practice. Gordon deserves to know he can count on us when he needs it.”

“You think he can’t?” Scott queried.

Virgil shrugged. “I’m just always so out of my element down there.”

“You saved him today.”

“John came up with the plan.” Virgil still had to apologise properly for snapping at him earlier.

“And you got him out. We’re a team Virg, Gordon knows he can count on us.”

Virgil hummed in supposed agreement but if he went out swimming more than usual in the next few months no one mentioned it either.

fin.

#thunderbirds are go #Gordon Tracy #myfic #4 little fics and 6000 words later - I would call that a successful day!

12 notes · View notes

afterhoursfic · 4 years ago

Note

Geralt gets tired of Jaskier sticking his dick where it shouldn’t and relying on Geralt to save him when the inevitable consequences of it arise so after scruffing the bard like some wayward tomcat, he axiis him into only wanting to get fucked by Geralt. It keeps him out of trouble and Geralt out of the overpriced brothels and into a willing hole that only gets off with Geralt’s cock splitting him in half

Warning: non con, mind control, dub con

Once again I got carried away but I hope you enjoy it, I had fun writing it :D

I’m gonna try and get another prompt out tonight but n promises

He supposed at this point he shouldn’t be surprised at seeing Jaskier practically running into the inn, Doublet half fastened and chemise hanging half out of his pants, skin flushed and a far too pleased grin on his face.

The bard doesn’t even have to say a word as he quickly spots where he’s sat in some dark corner and plants himself on the bench next to him and grabbing his half-empty tankard, acting as if he’d been here the whole time. It didn’t take a genius to figure out Jaskier stank of sex and sweat, hell he could still see the slick of whatever woman he took to beds cunt still on his lips before drinking from his beer, and sure enough, a bunch of young farmhands came crashing through the inn door and immediately made their way towards them.

The insults were pretty fast to fly, Jaskier brushing each one off to try and feign his innocence whilst the group of men were getting ready to haul the bard somewhere outside, likely beat him within an inch of his life and leave him in a ditch for taking their sister’s maidenhood. At least that’s what he thought the general conversation was about.

Personally, he was sick of it at this point, every city, town or hovel they went to, Jaskier always managed to get them in some sort of trouble, usually under the skirts of some daughter or wife, sometimes both, and he was sick of the way the bard practically flaunted it, getting caught, and often getting them both kicked out of their already paid for beds that night.

The worst part was the way Jaskier always found a way to involve him, most often he had to step between said pursuers from actually beating up the bard, no matter how tempting the thought, but if there was one thing he hated the most, it would be getting involved in the affairs of men, especially in the relation of relationships so quickly broken.

That was the main excuse he told himself, and his ire towards the whole ordeal definitely wasn’t because of Jaskier’s dalliances in closets, alcoves, and sometimes stables, about how easy the bard found company no matter where they went and yet he had to content himself with the hesitant touches and barely concealed disgust from overpaid whores.

Frankly, it had been far too long since he’d had even semi-decent company and his skin itched, for something, for some sort of relief and after eyeing Jaskier beside him for a moment, the bard still arguing that he was here the whole time and not in their sister’s bed, a solution to not only his problem, but the ones Jaskier caused as well suddenly struck him, and he only berated himself for a moment for taking so long before he finally intervened.

All it took was for him to stand up from the bench so he could now tower over the farmhands, a sharp edge to his eyes and a hand on the hilt of his steel sword before the men are fumbling over each other to get away from him first, all whilst Jaskier laughed beside him and whooped when the last of them finally left the tavern.

The bard’s joy was short-lived, in fact, he’d only just started telling him off for waiting so long to intervene, but he wasn’t listening, instead, he just grabbed at Jaskier’s collar and hauled him up from the bench and then to follow him out of the inn and down the street at the tavern.

The whole walk back Jaskier was shouting at the treatment and tried to pull away, but he held firm even as one hand hit him in the face (which the bard had called an accident, naturally). So when he felt the fabric tear a little under his hand instead he grabbed at Jaskier’s hair and pulled it tight so that Jaskier was forced to look up at the sky whilst he walked them to their beds, the bard now completely reliant on him if he wanted to avoid crashing into things or slipping into the mud.

There was something heady about having Jaskier so easily under his control and that feeling followed him into their rooms where he promptly shoved Jaskier forward whilst he turned to lock the doors.

He ignored Jaskier’s protests at the treatment, and later his apologies for getting caught, again, when finally he had enough and put his plan to work, his hand making the sign before he even consciously realized he was doing it until the bard went lax in front of him as he fell silent and awaited instruction.

“From now on, you can only come on my cock” Something easy but would no doubt make Jaskier’s time with others less enjoyable. Whilst he craved to bend Jaskier over the bed and to fuck him into the mattress and really test how strong the bed frame is, a bigger part of him want Jaskier to come crawling back to him, pleading and desperate to get on his cock, but that didn’t mean he shouldn’t get anything now “Right now you’re gonna suck my cock and come when I do”

What followed was perhaps the best blowjob he’d ever gotten in his century of living, he didn’t know if Jaskier had any experience with men, but given how sloppy and wet it was coupled with the occasional grazing of teeth and the way Jaskier would gag when he forced himself too far down, suggested he wasn’t, but it was perfect all the same.

He came embarrassingly fast, shoving his cock to the back of Jaskier’s throat and enjoying the way the bard moaned and convulsed around it as he came, squirming as if to get away only he didn’t, and he watched his come spill out past his cock and Jaskier’s lips and down to his chin.

When he pulled away he didn’t even have to say or do anything before Jaskier was trying to lick and get every last bit of come into his mouth, an overly pleased look on his face, and sure enough, when he looked down he saw the growing wet stain at the front of Jaskier’s pants. He scooped up the last remnants of his come on Jaskier’s face with his thumb before pushing it past the bard’s lips, unable to help his moan when he felt Jaskier suck at the digit of his own will before pulling out as he felt his dick twitch again.

He quickly sent Jaskier to bed, not even allowing him the decency to clean up the mess in his pants, there was supposed to be some punishment in this after all, given the amount of time Jaskier had come to him expecting protection from whatever new stupid mistake he had made.

After that, he makes it his mission to direct them to every settlement he can to watch as Jaskier outrageously flirts with a number of women until finally he’s lead away to some corner and he makes sure to follow so he can at least keep an ear out.

He knows the bard is good In bed, had heard him through walls for years now and now’s no different, he still eagerly gets his partner off, he hadn’t stopped Jaskier from being able to get hard and as he hears the man fucking into his lover of the hour, he can’t help but think he needs to change that as he hears the girls come over and over and yet Jaskier get no relief.

Every time he could smell the sweat pouring off of Jaskier’s body as he kept fucking over and over, desperate for his relief and yet finding nothing until finally, the woman pushes him off, too overstimulated to carry on as she rights herself and leaves him there with his dick still hanging out, flushed red and dripping in pre, but no closer to release.

It’s then that he’ll listen to Jaskier try and jerk himself off, stripping his hand over his dick so fast he’s surprised his cock isn’t chaffed from how desperate and eager he is for something, but still there’s nothing.

When he hears Jaskier all but growl and huff and lament whatever curse had struck his dick he’ll go back to their table where a minute later Jaskier would again join, arousal pouring off of him mixed with frustration and pure need, the thick line of his cock very obvious in his pants as he refuses to sit still in his seat whilst they finish their drinks and finally head to bed together.

It carries on for a couple of weeks with Jaskier only getting more and more frustrated as instead of taking women to bed as a mutual pleasure, instead, he can feel it become entirely selfish, the bard looking for a way, any way to get himself off, with his partner’s pleasure not even being an afterthought to him until he’s finally stopped and sent on his way.

He can tell the bard is close to his breaking point so he ventures them further from civilization and deeper into the woodland. If Jaskier notices he doesn’t say anything but most of the night he’s aware of the sound of slick skin and huffed grunts as Jaskier jerks himself off in the bedroll next to him and still gets no closer to his relief.

He’s the one to break first, tired of hearing Jaskier seek pleasure in the same way over and over with little result and instead deciding to offer a new solution, the last couple of weeks had been just as much as a torture to him with the constant scent of arousal, need and desperation clinging to Jaskier he’d been hard-pressed not to shove him onto the nearest surface and fuck straight into him to give them both some relief.

It happens one night when once again they’re both awake later than they should be, with the slick sound of skin slapping together as he listens to Jaskier futilely try to get himself off. He’s surprised Jaskier had lasted this long and hadn’t come to him sooner desperate for some solution, even if it meant going to a sorceress or one particular sorceress at that.

But finally, tired of hearing and smelling and seeing, he’s desperate to touch so obviously turns to face Jaskier and speaks into the otherwise quiet night.

“Need a hand bard?”

Everything stops then and he watches Jaskier freeze in front of him, clearly not expecting to have been caught, until finally he just lets out a whine and despite not being able to see him in the dark, turns his head to face him anyway “It’s no use, my dick’s broken, clearly the Gods have seen to punish me-“

“You just need to be fucked”

There’s a tense moment of silence where he can’t help the smirk on his face before he hears Jaskier sputtering in between protests, clearly outraged at the idea “Geralt, my dearest friend, sex isn’t the problem it’s…getting to the end that is” All he did was snort but he felt a hand slap somewhere at his chest “I’ve been denied the sweet taste of release for weeks now, so forgive me if I’m not myself because I’m sure some old hag has it out for me and has decidedly ruined my life in the worst possible way”

“Stop being dramatic, I told you you just need a cock in your arse, or specifically my cock”

He heard Jaskier scoff and had already started to form the sign when Jaskier began to speak again “Geralt, I don’t think-“

“Well I think you’re desperate to sit on my cock in the next few seconds”

Sure enough, he’d barely drawn away the signs power when he felt Jaskier straddle him and his hands pawing at his clothed dick, already hard from having watched Jaskier try to jerk himself off for half the night, whilst his own hands came to rest on the bard’s hips, a smile already teasing his lips as he watched Jaskier roll his hips, desperate for friction as he let out small desperate moans.

“Please Geralt, please let me sit on your cock” He just gave a questioning hum and a quirk to his eyebrow as an answer and rolled his hips up to meet the bard’s, earning a groan from the other man before he continued with his pleading “I need it, need you to fuck me open so I feel it for weeks”

He lets Jaskier carry on like this for another minute or so, and without guidance watches him move down his body until his head is by his clothed dick, trying to suck at the head of his cock through the leather whilst he tried to get a hand on it to stroke him, all the while babbling at how he needed to feel his cock, to have it fuck him so well, so full and deep he practically chokes on it, and that’s all he needs to give Jaskier the go-ahead to pull him out of his pants.

Jaskier almost tears the leather trying to pull out his achingly hard cock, but at the first reveal of skin Jaskier is already licking and sucking at it as if it’s the sweetest tasting nectar and moaning at the taste, even whilst he still struggles to pull him out.

Eventually, they get there and his cock is standing proud, hard and thick and leaking precome, not even having to prompt the bard before he’s lapping at the length of it, rubbing his face across the skin so precome spills across his hair and face before Jaskier is all too eagerly shoving it as far down his throat as he can, moaning at the taste and still sucking his cock even deeper even as he begins to gag once it reaches the back of his throat.

As good as it is to have the bard’s mouth on him he’s all too desperate to feel the tight clutch of Jaskier’s ass instead and given that he’s dangerously close to coming just with a few swipes of his tongue and the feel of warm, wet heat around his dick.

He’s quick to pull Jaskier off and rolling them so that Jaskier is on his back, legs splayed open and wide as he fills the space between, thrusting his hips a little so that his cock rubs against Jaskier’s ass and gods is he tempted to just push in then, to hear the bard cry out and feel his hole squeeze around him as if coaxing him to come into the tight clutch of his hole and milk his cock dry, but that would be for another night, he wasn’t that much of a monster.

Even so, he only had the patience to slick two of his fingers with spit, quickly pushing in one and then the other whilst Jaskier writhed into him, letting out small grunts and moans at the mix of pleasure and pain until he curled his fingers to hit Jaskier’s prostate, watching as his dick twitched and his back bow under the feeling.

His cock was still wet with precome and spit so after pulling his fingers out quickly lined his cock up, ignoring whatever nonsense was falling from Jaskier’s mouth as he began to push in. He hissed purely at how tight Jaskier’s hole was and all it had taken was his cock head to push past his rim when suddenly Jaskier was shuddering under him with a cry and he watched thick ropes of come covering the bard’s chest, even reach as far as his cheek as he came at just the first hint of his cock and he had to use all his strength not to push him and feel the clench of Jaskier’s ass milk him to completion as well.

Jaskier’s orgasm seemed to stretch on over minutes, clearly, weeks being desperate and on the edge had their toll and he couldn’t help but reach a hand forward to rub the come into the other man’s skin and his chest hair, all whilst Jaskier fell lax under him, a dopey and content look on his face whilst looking at him as if he was the best thing to exist.

“Seems I should listen to you more Geralt, it appears you’ve cured me of my affliction”

“Shut up bard” He went to push in again, but he’d barely gotten another inch in when he heard Jaskier hiss and hands shoving at him in an effort to push him away but he was unmoveable and heard Jaskier laugh nervously for a moment.

“Thank you for your help Geralt but it appears I don’t need you anymore-“

“Don’t you want to make sure you’re truly cured?” he could see Jaskier think about it for a moment and he was ready to use axii again, but the bard just shrugged and instead moved his legs to wrap around his waist and his arms around his shoulders, pulling them closer.

“Wouldn’t hurt to make sure, just go slow, I’m a little ah ah”

He’d stopped listening to Jaskier and as soon as he was given the go-ahead and soon shoved the rest of his cock into Jaskier, feeling the vice-like grip of it around him and he had to stop otherwise he would finish all too soon and he wanted to make good on the bard’s words to make sure he felt the feeling of his cock in his ass for weeks.

As soon as he had himself under control he quickly began fucking into Jaskier, listening to his pained grunts and short cries as all he could focus on was the tight heat around his dick, barely noting that Jaskier was hard again even as he grunted in pain, and was almost animalistic as he drove into Jaskier’s hole, growling above the prone body under him as he got closer and closer to his release.

He’d batted away Jaskier’s hand when it reached for his now drooling cock laying against his abdomen, it wouldn’t help anyway, the bard’s release purely reliant on his cock driving into him and he only angles Jaskier’s hips slightly so he can push in that much deeper, but it’s enough to have Jaskier choking on his tongue with another orgasm, and this time he can’t stop himself from coming again after a handful more thrusts, shoving in as deep as he can and throwing his head back with a mix of a snarl and a groan as Jaskier’s hole milks him of every drop of come he has.

He doesn’t stop there, he’s still hard when he’s finished coming and is quick to start thrusting again, ignoring the weak protest under him, but he just raises his hand and performs axii, feeling the body under him loosed under the signs thrall.

“From now on you can only get hard thinking about my cock” Jaskier just moaned in response and whined when after two orgasms his dick was getting hard, it was hard to avoid thinking about his cock when it was fucking into him after all.

He manages to fuck Jaskier through another orgasm, at which he passes out, but he doesn’t stop fucking him, still eager for his own release and fuck he’s never felt anything better than the tight clutch of the other man’s ass around him and he spends most of the night fucking into him, coming over and over again until Jaskier’s belly is slightly swollen from it. Even unconscious Jaskier manages to come for a fourth time and it’s only when the sky begins to lighten that he finally pulls out and watches his come leak out of Jaskier’s puffy and red-rimmed hole, already making a mess under him as it leaks out to spill down his thighs and into the bedroll.

They don’t speak about it the next day, Jaskier is all too happy to act as if it didn’t happen and that his dick is magically cured of its curse, even as he limps beside him, letting out a hiss now and then and tries to rub at his lower back, his ass, anything to help, but given by the bard's mutterings nothing works.

He’s quietly smug when he can scent the smell of arousal from Jaskier their entire journey to the nearest town, and sure enough, when he looks he can see the bard’s dick is hard in his pants, likely thinking of the past night but he’s sure it will only be a matter of days before Jaskier comes back to him, desperate again.

Of course he’s right, it takes two days where Jaskier successfully wooed nearly every woman into taking him to their bed or cupboard but when it came down to it would hear them shout and huff at his impotence as they shoved him away and told him to leave.

He’s nursing a tankard of shit ale when he feels Jaskier sidle up next to him, can smell the shame and arousal clinging to him as the bard leans closer to whisper at him.

“Geralt, dearest friend of mine, do you think we could- the other night-“

“Spit it out Jaskier”

“Can you fuck me again? It appears my curse hasn’t lifted just yet and-” He doesn’t wait to hear whatever else Jaskier has to say, just stands up and makes a move towards their rooms, Jaskier quickly trailing after him and he can smell the other man’s lust only get stronger as they get closer to their rooms with a door finally locked behind them.

He turned around and with little preamble began shredding his layers of armor whilst Jaskier eagerly discarded his own clothing and when the bard was finally naked couldn’t help but smirk as he moved closer to him, his hands resting on the man’s ass, giving them a firm squeeze as he trailed a finger just to tease at Jaskier’s rim before he spoke.

“I did tell you only my cock can make you come” He feels Jaskier shudder under him and then a tentative hand around his dick, slowly stroking him to hardness as he pushes them both back until the back of Jaskier’s knees hit the bed and he falls back, him quickly following after.

“Maybe we should go see some-“

His hand is already outstretched and soon Jaskier’s eyes are glossy under the sign’s control “You’re desperate for my cock, begging for it all the time until I finally fill you”

The effect is instantaneous, pleas start falling from the bard's lips as Jaskier tries to move his hips down and angle them so he can wrap a hand around his dick and guide it to his already slick, barely listening when he hears Jaskier tell him how he opened himself up earlier desperate for something to fill him until he realized only Geralt’s cock could do that for him.

He can’t help but groan and shove forward with a deep thrust, instantly setting a harsh pace that has the headboard to their bed crashing against the wall and Jaskier wailing on his cock, no doubt letting everyone know downstairs just how good and thoroughly he was being fucked, and he couldn’t help but thrust faster, letting out small grunts as he tried to fuck into him faster and faster.

All he can hear is the sound of their skin slapping together and Jaskier’s shouts for more, to be filled with his come and he’s quick to fall over the edge into his first orgasm, only slowing down a little to milk every clench of Jaskier’s hole before he’s fucking with fervor again and soon coaxing himself and Jaskier into orgasm together, and much like their first time he just keeps going, forcing Jaskier’s legs up so that they’re over his shoulder and folding the man in half as he redoubles his efforts and quickly has them hurtling both into another orgasm.

At some point when Jaskier appears no longer lucid and is just whining with the occasional plea, managing to come again even if at this point it’s mostly dry, but still, he doesn’t stop and doesn’t listen to the banging on the walls and at the door telling them that they need to leave, instead he just drives faster into Jaskier, feeling sweat on his brow as he once again empties himself into Jaskier’s hole, now puffy and loose even as it still tries to clench around him and keep him and his come inside just a bit longer.

Eventually, he collapses beside Jaskier, exhausted in a way he hadn’t been in decades and even as tired as Jaskier must feel, he can’t help but laugh when he feels a hand wrap around his softened cock and move to stroke it before he batted it away and told Jaskier to go to bed.

***

Sure enough, after that Jaskier is insatiable and luckily he has the stamina to match. In the beginning, he’d make Jaskier walk beside him on Roach, but as the cloying smell of Jaskier’s arousal only got deeper the longer they walked, and the hands on his thighs whilst Jaskier begged them to stop only for a moment so he could get fucked, meant he soon had Jaskier riding on Roach in front of him.

It was all too easy to push the back of Jaskier’s pants down to expose his ass but keep his dick enclosed, and even easier to slide his cock into the bard’s hole, now always slick and loosened with how often they fuck, and that’s how they spend the day.

The contact isn’t enough to get him off, but just having his cock in his hole is all Jaskier needs to come with a shout and have him staining his pants. Sometimes he’d coax Roach into a trot just to make Jaskier bounce a little in his lap and have him add to the growing stain as he then slows them down again and takes far too much delight when he sees Jaskier hang his head in shame as other travelers pass by and see the stain on his front, making it all too obvious what they’re doing.

It’s usually after such an occasion that he’ll pull them aside, just within the treeline and fuck Jaskier into the dirt or against a tree, a hand over his mouth to muffle his shouts until finally, he comes.

Despite all that Jaskier still isn’t satisfied and playing his lute in the evenings, for the most part, had turned into hanging off his cock, whether that was when they were deep in the woodland or at a tavern.

Taverns either meant Jaskier was very obviously under the table sucking his cock, or just warming it, even that had been enough to get him off a couple of times. On the rare occasion when they were in a town sleazy enough, he would pull Jaskier onto his lap and with one arm around the bard’s waist would fuck him right there for all to see. Some did but were too scared to approach, but for the most part, they remained unnoticed and the more it happened the bolder he became as all Jaskier did was beg more and more for his cock, until he was the reason they were getting kicked out of towns.

Not that he cared, he no longer needed the disappointed touches from whores and the like, not when he had his very own, enthusiastic, and begging all hours of the day and night to be filled with his cock.

#afterhours cw mind control #afterhours cw noncon #afterhours cw overstimulation #afterhours cw coersion

30 notes · View notes

occasional-drabbles · 4 years ago

Note

“Are you flirting with me?” “You finally noticed?”

Prompts!

Went with my BNHA OC Asuka with Hawks for this one, because I’ve wanted to do something with them for a while and you didn’t specify who you wanted this to be! :D

“Come on, I know those pretty wings of yours can move faster than that.” Hawks encouraged, flying backwards while watching his flying partner.

Asuka rolled her eyes and tried to speed up a little, trying to catch up to him. She’s gotten better at flying higher up and for longer, but speed still wasn’t her strong suit. Which is ironic, considering how close she’s become with the man whose signature is his speed.

“Easy for you to say, Hawks.” She countered, reaching out to try and grab at him. But just as her fingertips were about to brush against his boot, he shot just a few feet back and out of her reach.

He just laughed at her frustration, even when she tried to give him a glare. It might work normally, but when she’s got her cheeks puffed out and her hair is wild from the wind, she just looks cute. Like a pouting toddler. “Aw, don’t tell me you’re giving up, pretty bird!”

He took to flying around her, easily keeping up with her speed. Honestly, she was getting to the point where she can handle a decent speed for a bit, but it was still like walking when compared to him.

She lunged as best she could to try and grab on to him, as if they were playing tag. She even kicked her legs a little as if pushing off a wall, not that it did her much good in the air. “Pretty bird” She mimicked, exactly as he said it, as though replaying a recording for him. It always made him falter, and even if it was to mock him, it still made his cheeks warm up just a little.

Asuka lit up and took the chance, finally managing to grab on to his arm, hugging it to her chest so he couldn’t get away while her wings floundered for a moment to adjust to the shift in her weight. “Ha! I win!” She cheered, beaming up at him.

Hawks blinked in surprise but laughed, looking down at her with a playful smirk that had a hint of… something else. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever pretty bird.” He teased, reaching over to move some hair out of her face, his wings easily making up for her own faltering at the action.

Looking up at him, she let out a small thoughtful chirp, hesitating for another moment before speaking up. “How come you keep calling me that? Pretty bird?”

He clearly hadn’t been expecting that question, the two of them still just hovering in the air, her holding his arm to her chest so he can’t go flying off without her. Smart. “I call you that because it’s the truth… Do you want me to stop?” He asked. He would absolutely stop if she asked, not wanting her uncomfortable. He values moments like this too much.

“No, no! It’s fine. I’m just curious because it almost sounds like you’re… flirting with me?”

She was clearly hesitant to admit it, even looking away, but never down. But his response brought her attention back to his face.

“Ah so you finally noticed?” He asked with a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Wait really?” She countered, her wings fluttering a bit as they flapped faster to bring her closer to his eye level, looking for any signs of teasing or lying. Finding none, she let go of his arm as she processed. “That… would explain a lot.” She mused out loud. “The pet names, these lessons, all the little gifts of pretty rocks and trinkets…”

Hawks just nodded along with her realization, his hands casually in his pockets. He didn’t know what to do with himself right now, honestly not having planned to admit to his crush like this at all. Then again, he’s always preferred improvising.

“If you want me to stop any of that, I ca-”

“No no it’s fine!” Asuka assured quickly, even waving her hands a bit in front of her, cutting him off before he could finish talking. “Honestly I’d considered it before, but didn’t get my hopes up, thinking I was reading too much into it…”

“Aww, pretty bird...” He chuckled, shaking his head as he reached out, rubbing her cheek gently. “You don’t need to worry about that with me.” He cooed

She found herself tilting her head into his touch just a little with a quiet trill leaving her throat despite herself, making her flush a bit in embarrassment. “Maybe… we should go back to my apartment to talk more about this?” She asked a bit hesitantly.

He opened his mouth but was cut off by his phone beeping, taking it out to look at it, frowning as he scanned the message.

“Duty calls?” Asuka guessed softly, tilting her head a bit.

Hawks nodded, putting his phone away with a sigh before giving her a sheepish smile. “I’ll come by later tonight then?”

She nodded, expression softening a bit. “I look forward to it.” She said, waving to him before carefully flying back towards her apartment, staying over the buildings. Hawks watched her for as long as he dared, unable to help the smile that would spread across his face when he thought about seeing her later that day. The sooner he gets back to work, the sooner he can see her again.

#text post #thanks for the ask!#anon #anonymous #winging it #otp: winging it #bnha oc #hawks #asuka #bnha #keigo takami #don't mind me being super self indulgent #Also please specify who you want for prompts if you can #Because then I don't take forever to write things #deciding who to write for is the hardest part I swear XD

11 notes · View notes

zwritestuff · 5 years ago

Text

agua y aceite (one-shot)

summary: a bunch of queens do a cultural exchange and end up in Mexico. Crystal corrects their bad Spanish every opportunity she gets. That’s it that’s the fic.

a/n: slams fist in table MEXICAN CRYSTAL RIGHTS! Dedicated to the people that unfollowed me after saying Crystal is POC 😌 Haganse uriar.

The spelling mistakes when the queens talk are intentional. Thanks to my king @theviktorr for brainstorming this idea with me ❤🥰 As always, feedback is very welcome :D Fic under the cut~

“¿Siempre hace muy calor?” (Is it always very hot?) Jackie complains, fanning herself with one of her notebooks. Crystal giggles, briefly glancing at the blackboard and the teacher.

“Es mucho, no muy,” (It’s ‘so’, not ‘very’) she corrects her with the best intention. She knows Jackie still has some adjusting to do to the language. “Generalmente sí; a veces hace calor hasta mediados de Otoño,” (Usually, yes; sometimes it’s hot until mid-Autumn) Crystal explains, and Jackie looks as if she regrets choosing Mexico to do her exchange.

Being Canadian, Jackie is more used to the cold rather than the heat. Though they do get warm summers, nothing compares to the absolute pandemonium that is Yucatán, and her hijab certainly doesn’t help, even when she’s wearing one of the lightest one she owns.

She groans under her breath, looking over at Jan —or Yanina, as Crystal has decided to call her—, she has her earphones carefully tucked behind her ears, covered by her fiery red curls, and she has a cheerful smile as she resolves the maths assignments. Jackie has no proof, but she’s sure she’s listening —again— to Chino y Nacho.

For some unholy reason she’s been obsessed with the Venezuelan duo ever since Crystal introduced Jan to them. Which isn’t really ideal, considering they share foster parents and she’s blasting Tu Angelito all day long.

The bell rings, indicating the start of recess and the teacher leaves, reminding everyone to do their homework because she will check it next class, though Jackie has learned sooner than later that it’s an empty threat; she’s been here a month already, and she has never bothered to check the homework.

Jan closes her notebook with a loud sigh and jumps from her seat, approaching Jackie and Crystal with the cheerful smile still on. Jackie wonders how she can look so radiant when it’s boiling, even with the fans on.

“Should we go look for the others?” She inquires in English, but Crystal pouts and tells her to stop talking that fast because she can’t catch up. Jan just giggles. “Perdón, me emoción. ¿Vamos a buscar a las chicas?” (Sorry, I get excited. Should we look for the girls?)

“¡Sí! Vamos,” (Yes! Let's go) Crystal chirps, putting her notebook and pencil case back in her backpack. “Es ‘me emociono’, baby, no ‘me emoción’,” Crystal corrects her again and Jackie cocks a brow in her direction, following them towards the door.

“Stop correcting our bad Spanish, we’re trying,” Jackie protests, though she’s not really pissed.

Crystal cocks a brow back, “Then stop correcting me when I have bad English,” she bits back, and Jackie shuts her mouth. She has a fair point.

For some reason, the exchange program fucked up a little in distributing the Mexican group; most of them ended up in Yucatán, and moreover, at the same city. Somehow they managed to convince their foster parents to enroll them at the same school, and it caused them to not have to learn that much conversational Spanish because, well, most of them were American, with the exception of Nicky, who was French. Jackie was the only Canadian at Mexico, though she knew of another Canadian that went to Puerto Rico for their exchange.

They befriended Crystal almost by accident; they had each other and the need to make other friends wasn’t that big, but Jan got paired with her for a history project and they just clicked. Jan didn’t hesitate when she decided to introduce Crystal to their group, and now she was the one that helped them with their grammar and Spanish overall.

In exchange, they taught her English so she could keep up with their conversations, but sometimes Crystal still insisted they all speak Spanish at least once, because she felt lost sometimes and her stories were funnier in her mother tongue.

It’s not hard finding the rest of the girls; they’re at their usual spot, hanging around under the large tree in the middle of the patio.

Jaida is braiding Nicky’s hair and Nicky tries her best to not complain about Jaida’s grip on her hair, Gigi is trying to read a magazine along with Heidi, but her pronunciation is still rough around the edges and it causes Heidi to laugh. Out of all of them, Heidi has been the only one that actually cared to get a better grasp at the pronunciation, and it shows.

“Good morning!” Crystal exclaims, sitting near Heidi and Gigi. “Así que, it’s Friday,” she begins with a cheeky smile.

Gigi stops at her attempt to read the magazine and looks at Crystal. “It is indeed,” she replies, not understanding Crystal’s enthusiasm.

“I ask my parents about you guys coming to have a pajama party and they say it’s okay,” Crystal informs them, her thick accent makes it just a little difficult for the group to understand, but they quickly catch on, squealing in excitement.

“Great! We’ve been planning it for weeks,” Nicky excitedly says at the same time Jaida tugs rather hard at her hair and she squeals, but this time out of pain.

“Yanina, ¡ten cuidado! Nicky es sensible,” (Yanina, be careful! Nicky is sensible) Crystal scolds her and Jaida rolls her eyes.

“She damn is, you should get your braids done by my mama, I have the touch of an angel compared to her.” She finishes Nicky’s left braid by putting a scrunchie at the end and moves to her right one. Jaida scratches to the back to her brain to remember the words of what she wants to say. “Uh, yo estoy a cargo de los snacks, ¿cierto?” (Uh, I am in charge of the snacks, right?) She asks, hoping she said it right.

Crystal claps excitedly and nods. Jaida smiles giddily as her slender hands keep on braiding Nicky’s hair.

“Gigi, ¿de qué estás a cargo?” (Gigi, what are you in charge of?) Jan asks, producing a few candies from her pocket. Gigi stretches her arm with a pout and Jan deposits some of her own candy in her hand with a sigh.

“Peliculas,” (Movies) she simply replies while she chews on one of the candies. “I have a good selection up my sleeve,” Gigi brags, flipping her hair over her shoulder. Crystal beams, her smile showing nothing but excitement and something inside Gigi twitches.

“As long as there’s no scary shit, I’m cool,” Heidi says, prompting Gigi to roll her eyes.

There is definitely more than one horror movie, but she’s not going to tell that to her.

#rpdr fanfiction #my fanfiction #mexican exchange AU #crystal methyd #gigi goode #jaida essence hall #heidi n closet #nicky doll #jackie cox #jan sport #there are no ships sorry!#(if yall ignore this fic for being shipless your rights are reboked)

65 notes · View notes

bergarachan · 5 years ago

Note

A proposal for the fluff prompt,,, I would Weep™️

So this is gonna sound really weird but ive literally never written established relationship before it was so much fun!! the boys, if they were together, would be lovey-dovey goofballs. :”””D enjoy!

“You ready, Shane?” Ryan asked, coming out to the living room. The two were gettng ready to film an episode of weird wonderful world. Ryan saw Shane waiting for him in the living room and gasped. “Woah, you look...” He looked Shane up and down. His boyfriend was wearing a white button-up with patterned navy blue pants. He had a jean jacket over the button-up. Shane looked good. “...Wow.” Was the only thing that came out of Ryan’s mouth.

Shane laughed. “Is that all you’re gonna say?”

Ryan giggled along with him. “Well, yeah, you usually don’t wear stuff like this.” Okay, that was kinda an exaggeration. But usually Shane would wear something more casual than this during filming. Shane and Ryan had been spending the entire day inside, watching movies and playing board games. They had all day to get ready, and he’d even seen Shane planning his outfit about two hours before he had to leave.

“I think it looks good.” Shane said goofily, smiling to himself and making Ryan laugh even more.

“You look look amazing, hon.” Ryan smiled, going on his tip-toes to kiss Shane on the cheek, making his tall counterpart’s smile grow even wider. His boyfriend was such a fucking dork.

The two boys got into the car, Shane immediately sliding in the front seat, a sunny smile on his face.

“What’s got you so happy?” Ryan asked.

Shane shrugged. “It’s a nice day outside.”

It was a nice day outside. Shane and Ryan never got tired of the sunny streets of LA (okay, Shane did sometimes, but they went to Chicago for most holidays, so he didn’t get to complain) and it was a lovely day in August. The sun was out, kids were playing, people were laughing, and it reminded Ryan of why he loved this city so very much.

As they drove, they smiled as the sun started to set. “When’s the crew gonna get to the set?” Ryan asked, staring at the scenery outside.

“They’re gonna be a little late, Ry-guy, so I decided to go out to dinner first.” Shane said. “That alright?”

Ryan frowned. “Late? Why?”

“Brittany texted me a couple hours before we had to leave, she, uh, she said that a couple of the cameras stopped working.”

“What?!” Ryan exclaimed.

“Yeah, crazy, right? They just stopped, all in like, the same night.”

“Maybe there’s something wrong with the camera brand... or some shit,” Ryan muttered to himself. He was fairly happy with dinner, though. Dinner sounded lovely. “Is this why you took the time to pick out your outfit, fucker?” He asked Shane teasingly.

Shane snorted. “You saw me do that?” He hesitated, “Maybe...”

Ryan giggled. “You’re such a sap, you know that, big guy?”

“Only for you, babeyyy!” Shane exclaimed, then he launched into song, “I been cheated by you since I don’t know when!”

“Nope, Shane, no, we are not singing Mamma Mia right now-” Ryan tried to cut him off, but Shane continued, of course.

“So I’ve made up my mind, it must come to an end!” The Mamma Mia soundtrack was special to both Ryan and Shane. It was kind of their anthem when Shane was there for Ryan after a horrible breakup, and then the breakup after that. Singing the songs terribly while dancing around a dimly lit room was one of the steps to realizing that they were in love with each other all along. So as much as Shane does sing it, Ryan can never get sick of it.

Ryan stuck through Shane’s horrible rendition of “mamma mia” all the way to a restaurant beside a beach. It was a place that the two of them had never been together, however they were both familiar with the place. It was minimalistic and atmospheric, and it had bitchin burgers.

When they were both seated and had both ordered burgers, Ryan caught Shane staring at him with what their fans loved to call “heart eyes”. As he always did, Ryan smiled bashfully under Shane’s gaze. Shane always had an effect on him, even after dating for two and a half years. Shane always made him blush, giggle and swoon like a highschool girl. And he knew it was the same for Shane. “What’re you lookin’ at,” Ryan snorted, flushing more under Shane’s stare.

Shane sighed. “Even before we started dating I always wanted to take you here.” Holy shit, what was up with Shane and being a sap today? He told Shane as much. Shane just took Ryan’s hand in his and said, “Just love you, is all.” Ryan was surprised. Shane wasn’t the kind of guy to be gushy and lovey-dovey. He more loved to show people that he loved them, without really telling them so. This was different.

Ryan smiled. “I love you too, Shane.” He squeezed his hand tightly.

Shane and Ryan got into their normal banter over dinner, almost getting louder than the families with children with their usual arguments and bits. They were laughing and giggling the entire time, though, and once again Ryan was reminded why he loved Shane Madej so gosh-darn much. From day one, since filming unsolved, Shane was always Ryan’s best friend. There was no separating them. And then, years ago, with the creation of Watcher, and working every day beside him, Ryan rarely got sick of him. If anything, it helped him realize his feelings even sooner.

After paying the check and getting up from their seats, Ryan asked, “The crew ready, Shane?”

Shane checked his phone, and, after a moment, shook his head. “They’re getting in the car. On their way over. Wanna take a little stroll on the beach?”

Ryan smiled. “Always.” This beach in particular reminded him of their first kiss.

___

“Shane!” Ryan caught up to Shane, bare feet slipping in the sand. It was nearly midnight, and the boys had finished filming season 7 of Unsolved Supernatural. After drinks, Shane suggested eating snacks on the beach. Only problem is, they had forgotten snacks. So they decided to run around like children and play games instead. Ryan panted, hands on his knees as he finally caught up. “I can’t keep up with your stupid long legs,” He wheezed.

Shane laughed. “One of the perks of being six foot four.” Ryan whacked him playfully on the arm.

Suddenly, Ryan noticed the moon, full, bright, and beautiful. He stopped to stare at it. “The moon is beautiful tonight,” He muttered, admiring the sight.

“Yeah,” He heard Shane say beside him. “Gorgeous.” Ryan glanced over at Shane, and his smile fell when he realized that Shane wasn’t looking at the moon.

He was looking at him.

“Shane,” He whispered, as if his name was something secret. Their relationship had taken a turn, recently. The stares had been longer, the touches had lingered, the smiles had been wider. It was unspoken. But now, Shane had spoken it.

Shane wrapped his arms around Ryan’s waist. Shane bent down a little, and Ryan went on his tip-toes. They gravitated towards each other.

Shane kissed Ryan like he was the most precious gift in the entire world.

___

Ryan smiled dreamily at the memory. It gave him butterflies in his stomach to this day, years later. “Remember that night when we played games in the sand? On this beach?” He asked Shane. The sun was nearly setting, just touching the horizon of glittering water. Not many people were around this part of the beach. It felt like a secret, just for Shane and Ryan.

“Yeah,” Shane replied. “That was a good day.” The two were silent for a moment, before Shane said something. “Ryan?”

Ryan laughed. Shane’s voice sounded serious. Probably a bit, Ryan assumed. “Yeah, big guy?”

“Can I ask you something?” The taller pulled Ryan close to his chest.

“Sure, shoot.” The latter giggled.

And it was like a movie.

Shane suddenly dropped to a knee. Ryan gasped, laughing all the way. There was no way this was happening. This had to be a bit; this had to be a joke.

And then he saw Shane getting something out of his pocket. “Shane,” Ryan tried, choking up.

“Ryan,” Shane held up a black velvet box. “You are my best friend. To the moment we started being friends, to the moment I fell head over ass in love with you, to now, I’ve realized that I always want you in my life. I always want you by my side.” Shane sniffled a little himself, wiping his eye with a finger, before continuing, “You are… an angel, Ryan Bergara. I know I don’t, uh, believe in that stuff, but sometimes I’ve seriously questioned if the guy upstairs sent me an angel… to… protect me, and whatnot.” They both laughed teary laughs. “I’m not one for saying my emotions out loud, and whatnot, but… I am so in love with you, Ryan. And I think we’re destined, if that even exists, to be together for the rest of our lives. So, Ryan Bergara,” He opened the box to reveal a beautiful silver ring, “Will you make me the luckiest, happiest man on the world, and marry me?”

Of course, by that point, Ryan was in tears, trying to stiffle his sobs. “Yes, fucking,” He sniffled, “Yes, Shane. I love you, yes, yes,” And as he rushed in to hug his partner, he heard a round of applause from behind him. He turned to see, of course, the fucking crew. Brittany, TJ, Andrew, Steven, Mark, everyone, all with cameras. “Wha-? Were you all in this?” Ryan asked, wiping his tears.

The crew all nodded, laughing, cheering and whooping. “Shane and I have been trying to put this together for months.” Steven spoke up, smiling.

“Months?” Ryan’s voice went up, like, five octaves. “Shane…” And, of course, being the emotional guy he was, burst into tears again and ran into Shane’s arms, earning an awww from the crew. Ryan and Shane shared a romantic kiss, and Shane slipped the ring onto Ryan’s finger.

“I love you, angel,” Shane whispered into Ryan’s ear, only for him to hear, and Ryan doesn’t think he’s ever been more happy. This is it. This is the best day of his life.

“I love you, Shane. Forever and ever. We took an oath.”

(Later, the video was posted on the Watcher channel, titled, “How I Proposed to Ryan”. Fans, of course, went fucking crazy. Ryan wouldn’t have anything any other way.)

#i cried writing this #imagine if this actually happened tho #shyan #shyan fic #proposal #proposal fic #shyan fanficiton #shyan drabbles #belle writes #belle chats #ask #answered

85 notes · View notes

rushingheadlong · 4 years ago

Text

I’ll Put A Spell On You - A John/Roger Smut Fic

Summary: John is tired of always getting teased for wearing “boring” costumes, so he decides to spice things up this year - and when Roger makes sure to show his appreciation for John’s costume choice, they both end up having a good time.

Words: ~5,900

Tags/Warnings: John/Roger, 18+, D/s (sub!John), spanking, rimming, crossdressing

Notes: Written for the DL Servers HalloQueen fic exchange! My prompt was: John buys a "sexy witch" costume to wear as a joke. It turns out to be more hot than funny to Roger. Smut ensues. I’ve never written Dealor before and I don’t usually write crossdressing, so I hope I did alright with this!

“I think that the next time anyone tries to tell me that Queen must attend their fancy dress party, I am going to take their invitation and shove it up their arse!” Roger yells from down the hall.

John laughs as he smoothes down the front of his skirt and adjusts the pointed hat on top of his head. “I think I’ll help you with that!” he calls back.

“I mean why even invite Queen to a party if everyone is supposed to wear stupid costumes anyway!” Roger continues ranting. He’s been complaining about this for weeks now and it’s a testament to how much John shares his annoyance that he hasn’t told Roger to shut up yet.

Although, as John takes a step back and studies his final outfit in the mirror, he finds that his costume somehow ended up looking surprisingly good on him. He had expected the “sexy witch” costume that he bought to be just flashy enough and ill-fitting enough to look silly on him, but even without the right parts to fill out the dress it certainly doesn’t look as bad as he was expecting it too. Far from it, in fact.

The skirt hits him at mid-thigh, just high enough that there’s a bit of skin showing between the top of his striped stockings and the hem of the skirt. In a fortuitous turn of events the cheap dress doesn’t have much structure in the bodice and it sits smoothly across John’s chest, leaving his collarbones and shoulders bare. John even has the passing thought that maybe he should have picked up some makeup to wear as well to really complete the look, nevermind that he usually hates how it feels on his face after a few hours.

“And god knows our manager is going to find some way to blame us for the bad publicity if any photos from tonight make it into the papers…”

“We could just stay home.” John would much prefer to spend a quiet evening in with his boyfriend instead of embarrassing himself at this party.

“Freddie will never forgive us if we don’t turn up,” Roger says. “And I’ve spent too much time getting into this fucking costume to back out now.”

“What are you wearing, anyway?” John asks. Somehow they never quite got around to discussing their plans and apart from catching a glimpse of the bundle of clothes in Roger’s arms as he ducked into the bathroom John knows nothing about his costume.

“Come over here and see for yourself!”

“You come over here, I’m still trying to find my damn shoes,” John suggests instead. He knows that he has a pair of boots around here somewhere that will work well enough with his stockings, and he leans down to dig through the mess at the bottom of the closet to look for them.

“Just throw on a pair of trainers or something. We aren’t supposed to look good tonight anyway.” There’s the sound of Roger slamming some drawer in the bathroom, and then John hears him as he starts to walk down the hall back towards the bedroom. “Honestly, John, I’m not doing this again next year. I don’t care what Reid says, I’m not- John?”

Roger’s voice is strangled, and when John glances over his shoulder he can see that Roger is staring at him, mouth agape, as he takes in the sight of John in his costume. John quickly straightens up and turns to Roger, his hands shaking a little as he smoothes down his skirt. He can feel his face starting to grow hot with embarrassment and he tries to stop himself from squirming under Roger’s intense gaze. It’s hard to tell exactly what Roger is thinking, and now John is second-guessing his costume. He didn’t think it looked bad, but maybe he was wrong? Or maybe he’s taken the joke a step too far?

After a moment of silence John clears his throat and Roger jumps a little, startled out of his thoughts by the noise. “I, uh, I like your costume,” John says, motioning vaguely in Roger’s direction. “Can’t go wrong as a scarecrow. It’s a classic.”

Roger laughs a little and says, “So’s a witch costume but I’ve never seen one as stunning as yours.”

That answers the question of what Roger thinks of John’s outfit, but if anything John’s blush only deepens at the note of appreciation in Roger’s voice. “You like it then?” he asks.

“Like it? John, I love it.” Roger gives John another pointed once-over and then, with a small smirk, he says, “Go on, give me a twirl. I want to see the whole outfit.”

John feels his heart speed up a tick at the cocky undertone to the order. He loves when Roger gets like this and Roger knows it. Roger’s smirk deepens and he motions with one finger for John to start spinning. So John does, slowly turning in a circle so Roger can take in his costume from every angle.

“You know, I’m not sure you really understood the costume requirements for this party,” Roger says as John finishes his spin. “We’re supposed to look silly, not sexy.”

“Don’t I look a little silly? Black and orange aren’t exactly my colors,” John jokes.

“No, they’re not,” Roger agrees. “But that doesn’t make you any less gorgeous, angel.”

And with that Roger finally moves forward, crowding John against the closet and kissing him deeply. John drapes his arms loosely around Roger’s neck and parts his lips so Roger can slip his tongue inside. Some of the straw sticking out of Roger’s shirt tickles John’s chest as Roger presses in even closer, but John’s laugh quickly turns into a low groan as Roger sneaks one hand between them to palm at John’s cock through his skirt.

“Fuck, Rog,” John groans as he instinctively bucks his hips into Roger’s touch. “Keep that up and we’re never going to make it to this party.”

“Maybe that’s the plan,” Roger says. He keeps teasing at John’s cock and even through the layers of fabric the dull pressure feels unbelievably good. “I can think of quite a few things we could do that would be way more fun than going to this party…”

John has a pretty good idea of what those things could be, and with how quickly it feels like he’s losing his mind under Roger’s deft touch he’s so tempted to just let Roger do whatever he wants with him… but he still has enough self-restraint left to point out, “Didn’t you just say that Freddie will never forgive us if we don’t show up?”

“I think if Fred saw what you’re wearing, he’d understand.”

John laughs but he still gently pushes Roger back. Roger pouts but he does let go of John, and John tries not to miss his touch too much. “We don’t need to stay long, but we can’t skip out on it altogether,” he says.

He finally spots the boots he had been looking for sticking out from underneath the bed. He gives Roger, who’s still sulking a little, a quick peck on the cheek as he brushes past him, and as John bends over to grab the shoes he hears Roger groan quietly behind him.

“You’re going to tease me all night, aren’t you?” Roger says.

John stays facing away from Roger as he puts his shoes on so his boyfriend can’t see the amused smile on his face. “Maybe just a little,” John says. “But you like it when I tease you.”

“Yeah, but I like it a lot more when we just stay in and I can fuck you until you can’t think straight anymore.” Roger’s hands settle on John’s hips again and John jumps a little at the unexpected touch; he hadn’t even heard Roger move at all. “I might have to punish you later, if you’re going to be a brat.”

John’s breath hitches a little and he hears Roger chuckle behind him. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “Yeah, actually, I think that’s exactly what’s going to have to happen.” He grinds up against John, and John bites back a whimper when he feels just how hard Roger is right now. “You like the sound of that, don’t you, honey?”

John knows that all it would take is a simple no right now and Roger would immediately stop everything he was doing - but John’s pretty sure that he might actually die if Roger stopped this game now, so instead he says, “Yes, god, I love it Roger, please-”

Roger drops his head against John’s shoulder, groaning quietly as he grinds up against John a little harder this time. “Fuck, John, you’re gonna kill me tonight, I know it.” He turns his head and kisses the crook of John’s neck, and then he takes a step back and lets go of John altogether. “Finish getting ready and meet me at the car. The sooner we get to this party, the sooner we can get back home again - and I want to make sure we have plenty of time to finish this later.”

Part of John is grateful for the reprieve so that he has a chance to calm down a little and pull himself back together, but he still hurries to finish putting on his shoes and double-checking his costume and there’s a knowing smirk on Roger’s face when John slides into the passenger’s seat only a few short minutes later.

The party itself goes much the same way that they always do, passing with a strange mix of rock ‘n’ roll debauchery and music industry schmoozing that not even the addition of ridiculous costumes can really interfere with. John isn’t even the only one there in drag, although Roger certainly doesn’t have eyes for anyone else except him. It makes it almost too easy to tease him; all John has to do is play with the hem of his skirt a little or cock a hip out as he talks to someone, and that’s enough to get Roger staring at him intently from across the room.

This certainly hadn’t been how John thought this evening was going to go, but it’s a rush to know that Roger is this fixated on him in this dress. It’s even more of a rush to know that Roger is going to pay him back for every second of this teasing when they finally get home and the anticipation of what’s going to come later makes John grateful that he’s wearing a skirt, so no one can see how hard he is.

The two of them drift separately through the crowd, and despite the game they’re playing John does try to keep his focus on the people he meets and the conversations he’s having - so much so that he doesn’t realize that he’s ended up in the same area as Roger, until he turns to his right and sees the drummer leaning up against the wall nearby. Roger crooks one finger in a “come here” gesture and, after quickly checking to make sure that no one is paying them any attention, John hurries over.

“Having fun?” Roger asks. It’s an innocent enough question but the look he levels at John is anything but.

John shrugs. “It’s been fine,” he says mildly. “Though, if you wanted to head out…”

The rest of John’s sentence is cut off with a laugh from Roger. “You were so quick to make sure that we showed up to this party and now you just can’t wait to get home, can you?”

John bites his bottom lip and doesn’t answer, because Roger isn’t exactly wrong. Every hungry look from Roger makes John a little more desperate to get home, a little more desperate for the punishment that Roger promised him before they left, but he’s not quite so far gone that he’s willing to admit that aloud just yet. So he shrugs again and looks out across the party, feigning a nonchalance that he absolutely does not feel.

But Roger isn’t going to let him off the hook that easily. Roger glances around to make sure that no one is looking at them, before slowly sliding a hand down to brush along the bare skin of John’s thighs just above his stockings and right below the hem of his skirt. John can’t hold back a shiver and Roger’s smile takes on a wicked glint as he says, “Yeah, just look at you. You can put up a good front but you’re dying to get out of here, aren’t you?”

John exhales shakily. “Roger…”

“If we weren’t in public, I’d make you beg for me right now,” Roger says in a low voice.

John is about ready to beg for him right now anyway because that sort of easy cockiness from Roger just does things to John, makes him go weak-kneed and desperate to please him. Roger knows that too, and thankfully he doesn’t seem to want to wait any longer himself because he jerks his thumb towards the exit and says, “C’mon. Let’s get out of here.”

The car park is empty around them. It’s too soon for most people to be leaving but late enough that there aren’t any last-minute stragglers still heading inside, and Roger takes advantage of the privacy to crowd John up against the side of the car and kiss him. He keeps John pinned in place with one hand on his hip and one cupping his face as he devours John’s mouth, licking his way inside and nipping at John’s bottom lip until he’s moaning and writhing underneath Roger’s touch.

“Christ, John, you drive me fucking crazy,” Roger pants against John’s mouth. “Next time we’re skipping the party and staying in. I don’t care if the others get pissed, I could barely keep my hands to myself in there.” He kisses along John’s jawline and adds, “The only good thing about coming here is now I get to punish you for being such a tease.”

John moans quietly and arches his neck to give Roger better access to kiss and bite along his throat. He knows that Roger isn’t stupid enough to leave marks where other people can see them, but the possibility that he could makes John feel like he’s burning up with arousal.

“What- ah- what are you going to do?” he barely manages to ask.

“To punish you?” John nods, a little too eagerly, and Roger laughs. “Why don’t we head home and I’ll just show you instead?”

The drive back home feels like it lasts a small eternity. Roger keeps one hand on John’s thigh the entire time, moving it only when he has to shift gears and then immediately returning it to John’s leg just underneath his skirt. He doesn’t touch John’s cock but it’s still so close that John can’t help but squirm - at least, until a sharp look from Roger has him trying his hardest to stay still instead.

The moment they get inside the house Roger is on him again, kissing him even before the door is fully closed behind him and pulling the witch’s hat off John’s head to toss behind him somewhere. “You remember your safewords, angel?” he asks as he tangles one hand in John’s hair and gives a gentle tug - not enough to really hurt but enough to make sure that John is paying attention and to make his cock throb underneath his skirt.

John nods and Roger tightens his grip slightly in warning. “Ah- yeah, yes, Rog. Green to keep going, and red to stop.”

“And yellow to slow down and check in,” Roger adds and John nods, as much as he’s able to anyway. “Good boy. Now, this is how this is going to go. You’re going to go into the bedroom and get on the bed, arse up and waiting for me. I’m going to spank you as your punishment and then I’m going to fuck you, and you’re not allowed to come until after I do. Understand?”

John bites down on a moan and takes a deep breath, trying to stay focused on what Roger is saying. Checking in like this is important, even if John wants to bolt to the bedroom and get started with Roger’s plans as soon as possible.

“One question,” John says. Roger raises an eyebrow, and John asks, “Should I undress, or-?”

“I didn’t tell you to, did I?” Roger points out, though he lets go of John’s hair and scratches gently at his scalp instead, a silent praise for seeking clarification on Roger’s orders.

“Although…” Roger hums a little, considering, and finally says, “Pants and shoes off, but everything else stays on. Next time, we’ll get you some pretty heels and panties to wear while I fuck you.”

John does moan at that. The promise of a next time and the thought of wearing lacey panties under his dress are so hot that John feels like he’s going to crawl out of his skin with need. He tries to arch against Roger, desperate to feel his body against his, desperate to get any scrap of friction against his cock, just desperate in a way that he never gets unless it’s with Roger, but Roger doesn’t give him anything, not yet. He lets go of John altogether and takes a step back, and John whines at the loss of contact.

“Bedroom,” Roger orders.

John nods, and somehow manages to stumble down the hall and into their bedroom. The damn boots that had taken him so long to find earlier in the evening are pulled off and tossed unceremoniously into the closet, and his pants are shoved in the laundry basket. They weren’t a special pair or anything because John hadn’t expected his costume to illicit quite this sort of response, but once he’s kneeling face-down on the bed he almost wishes that he still had them on. There’s no hiding how exposed he is in this position, with his skirt revealing his bare arse and his cock hanging hard and heavy between his legs.

He rests his head on his arms and takes a shaky breath and tries to pretend that his face isn’t as hot as he knows it is. It’s embarrassing, to be left here waiting like this, but it’s also thrilling and makes heat pool in John’s belly, and when he finally hears the door open he has to bite his hand to stop himself from whimpering in anticipation.

There’s a beat of silence, and then Roger says, “Christ, John. You have no idea how beautiful you look right now.”

John feels the bed dip as Roger climbs up next to him and then Roger’s hands are finally, finally touching him. Roger slides his hands up John’s thighs, along the curve of his arse, and finally up his lower back, pushing up his dress slightly as he goes.

“I can’t believe you ever thought you’d look silly in this costume,” he says as he drapes himself over John to press a kiss to the back of his neck. Roger must have gotten undressed before coming into the bedroom because John can feel Roger’s warm skin against his exposed rear, and when Roger rocks against him John can feel his cock catch along the top band of his stockings.

Roger pulls back and John grips the blankets tightly to stop himself from spreading his legs further, arching his back a little bit more, doing anything to entice Roger to hurry things along. And Roger does touch John again, but only one gentle hand that rests on his lower back as Roger says, “You’re shaking, angel. Color?”

“Green,” John says and, god, they’ve hardly begun and John can already hear how wrecked his voice sounds.

Roger must hear it too, because his hand slides back down to John’s arse and he squeezes it tightly for a moment. “Oh, so you’re just that desperate for me, are you? So fucking eager to get started that you can’t even hold still anymore, is that right?”

“Please,” John moans as he tries to rock back into Roger’s touch - but with one last squeeze, Roger lets go and settles into place behind him.

“Ten hits, John,” Roger says, and John whines low in the back of his throat. “I want you to count them out for me, okay?”

“Okay,” John says, and he barely has time to brace himself before the first hit lands. It’s a hard strike, but not uncomfortably so. Roger is just using his hand, not any of their toys, and without warming John’s skin up first it’s clear that he’s not putting his full strength into it. But this is still a punishment, even if it’s a fun one, and John gasps and is rocked a little forward at the first hit.

“One,” he counts, and Roger doesn’t hesitate with the second hit. “Two.”

The third and fourth hits come quickly, one to each cheek, but after the fifth Roger pauses for a moment. “You’re doing so good, taking this so well for me,” he praises as he grabs John’s arse again, digging his fingers into the tender flesh until John moans and tries to pull away from him.

The sixth hit takes John by surprise; Roger still has one hand on him and John hadn’t been prepared for the strike. He cries out and tries to muffle the noise in his hands, but Roger lets go of him to instead grab his hair and gently pull his head back up.

“None of that now. Let me hear you.”

John whines as he nods, and he expects Roger to let go of him after that. When he doesn’t, it takes John a moment to realize what he’s waiting for. “S-six.”

“Good boy,” Roger praises and he lets go of John’s hair. John’s head falls forward again but he doesn’t try to muffle his moan as Roger lands the seventh hit.

The next two land lower on John's arse, almost hitting the top of his thighs, in the exact spot that John knows from experience would make it agony to sit down later if Roger really wanted to make John's punishment last. But that's not quite the game they're playing right now, and even though Roger's final hit is the hardest one yet John knows, in the back of his mind, that there won't be any marks that linger past tonight. That doesn't mean that it doesn't hurt but it's a good sort of pain, the kind that makes every one of John's nerve endings light up even as the harsh sting starts to fade into a dull, pleasurable ache.

“Ten,” John gasps and he doesn’t know whether to be disappointed that that’s the last one or relieved that Roger is finally going to fuck him. “Roger, please, I- I need-”

“Shh, I’ve got you, I know what you need,” Roger says as he runs his hands gently over John’s reddened arse. He scratches lightly over the spots he just spanked and John whimpers at the new sting of pain, even as he arches up into Roger’s touch. It’s almost more than he can stand but somehow he still can’t get enough of it.

Roger taps on the inside of John’s thighs and says, “Spread your legs a little wider for me, honey.”

So John does, even though it makes him feel even more lewdly on display that before, and Roger takes advantage of the slight change in position by reaching down to toy with the head of John’s cock. “You’re already dripping for me, aren’t you?” Roger says teasingly as he smears through the precome beading at the tip of John’s cock. “So fucking eager for me, christ, you’re amazing, John.”

“Ro-Roger.” John groans as Roger trails his fingers lightly down the length of John’s cock and tickles over his balls before he reaches up and spreads John’s cheeks to expose his hole.

And then Roger leans in and licks a stripe over John’s opening, and any coherent thoughts left in John’s mind immediately disappear. He shouts and squirms beneath Roger, but Roger holds him in place with a tight grip on his sore arse and John is helpless to do anything but surrender to the sensations of Roger eating him out.

Roger doesn’t hold back. He laps at John’s opening, circling it and dipping the tip of his tongue inside before pulling back. He presses open kisses to his hole and teases it with his breath, and by the time Roger finally wiggles his tongue past the tight ring of muscle John is so close to coming that he’s sure he’s going to fall over that edge just from Roger’s clever tongue working him open.

“Please,” he begs. “Please, Roger, I need to come, please let me come, please, please-”

Roger pulls back and nips at John’s arse. “I told you, not until I do,” he says in a rough voice.

John sobs and drags his face against the blankets and tries to rut back against Roger, desperate for any touch on his cock or arse. “I can’t. Roger, I can’t-”

“You can.” Roger slides his hands up the outside of John’s thighs and along his lower back in slow, gentle strokes, staying away from the areas he spanked before and giving John a chance to calm down. “Color, John?”

John takes a shaky breath and actually has to think about that for a moment. The last thing he wants is for Roger to stop, but he doesn’t share Roger’s confidence that he can stave off his orgasm. “Yellow,” he says at last. “Please don’t stop, but- Roger, god, I want to be good but I’m so close to coming already.”

“You are good. You’re so fucking good for me, angel, you’re absolutely perfect,” Roger assures him. “Do you still want me to fuck you?” John nods desperately and Roger says, “Okay. I’ve still gotta open you up, though. Can you handle that, or do you want to do it yourself?”

John whines quietly as he tries to weigh the options. He doesn’t want to work himself open but he knows that he will come the moment Roger gets his fingers inside him, so he finally says, a little reluctantly, “I can do it.”

“Okay, great,” Roger says. “I want you to ride me, so let’s just…”

It doesn’t take much for Roger to coax John to sit up so they can switch places. Roger lies down on his back on the bed, and John finally gets a proper look at him. John already knew that he was naked but he’s rock-hard as well and there’s a flush of arousal spread across his face and down his chest. Roger is absolutely gorgeous and seeing him as turned on as John feels helps John claw back some small semblance of control.

“Hey, c’mere,” Roger says as he reaches towards John.

And John goes willingly, straddling Roger and letting himself be pulled into a kiss that’s surprisingly gentle, given the tone of the evening so far. John can feel Roger smiling against his mouth and he runs his hands along John’s bare shoulders with a touch that’s soft but reassuring, rather than purely teasing.

“You really are gorgeous, you know,” Roger says softly as he plays with the lace on the neckline of John’s dress.

John smiles down at him and says, “So are you.”

“You’re just saying that because I’m naked and have a pretty dick,” Roger jokes.

“I am not!” John protests with a laugh. He runs his hands along Roger’s bare chest and adds, “Although, now that you mention it…”

“You ready to keep going?”

John nods. “Do you have the-?” Roger hands him the bottle of lube before John can finish the question. “Thanks.”

John pours some out on his fingers and reaches behind himself, shivering in anticipation as he spreads the slick around his hole before finally pushing one finger inside. He gasps and braces himself with his other hand on Roger’s chest and slowly starts to thrust the finger in and out of his hole.

“That’s it, honey, work it in nice and slow,” Roger says. He slides his hands up John’s thighs, pushing the skirt up a little bit. The fabric slides against John’s dick and he whimpers at the feeling. It’s light enough that John doesn’t think it’ll be enough to make him come too soon, at least not now that he’s calmed down a bit, but it’s still a delicious tease.

John carefully works in a second finger, moaning loudly at the stretch. It doesn’t hurt but there is a burn as John scissors his fingers and tries to work them in a little deeper. He can’t quite reach his prostate at this angle but that’s okay; just being filled like this feels so good that John can hardly stand it.

“How many is that?” Roger asks. His thumbs are rubbing circles into the crease of John’s thighs, so close to John’s cock that he can barely think of anything except how badly he wants Roger - inside him and stroking his dick and making him fall to pieces in his lap.

“Two,” John gasps. He’s rolling his hips down onto his hand, properly fucking himself on his fingers now, and he’s pretty sure he might just die if he can’t get Roger inside him right this very second. “Rog, I’m good, I’m ready, can I-?”

“Yeah, angel, yeah, go ahead, go sit down on my cock,” Roger says and that’s all John needs to hear.

He pulls his fingers out and tries to ignore how empty he now feels as he slicks up Roger’s cock and starts to sink down onto it. Roger groans and his fingers dig a little harder into John’s thighs, but he doesn’t try to rush John even though John knows that he must be dying to move. He can feel how tight he still is around Roger’s cock and he has to work himself on it slowly. How Roger is maintaining any control John has no idea because he is rapidly losing any calm that he managed to regain while they were taking things slow.

“So good, John, you take my cock so well,” Roger praises as John finally seats himself fully on Roger’s dick.

John is panting heavily and he knows he’s not going to last long, but he’s determined to follow through with Roger’s orders and make him come first. So he doesn’t take more than a handful of seconds to adjust to the feeling of being stretched wide around Roger’s cock before he lifts himself up and starts to fuck himself on Roger.

“Fuck John, honey, you feel so fucking good,” Roger groans. “So fucking beautiful too, riding my cock in your pretty dress…” He pulls his hands out from under John’s skirt and settles them on his hips, coaxing him to move a little faster as he starts thrusting up to meet John’s movements.

John shifts a little and Roger’s cock finally hits his prostate. “Roger, god-” John cries out as pleasure skitters up his spine. He clenches down around Roger and Roger throws his head back and moans, and it takes every ounce of control that John has to stop himself from falling over the edge when Roger looks and sounds like that.

“Yeah, like that, just like that…” Roger is rocking up into him a little harder now, a little faster, and John knows that he has to be close. That only spurs him on more and even though his legs are shaking from the effort of riding Roger he keeps moving and he keeps clenching around Roger’s cock, trying to make him come as quickly as possible so John can finally come as well.

“John, John, god- god, John-” Roger groans and he holds John down on his cock as he comes hard, spilling into him, his hips stuttering up as he chases the last aftershocks of pleasure.

Roger finally sags back against the bed, breathing hard. He’s beautiful like this, blissed-out and boneless underneath him, but John is so close to coming, so desperate to tip over that edge as well, that John can hardly appreciate the sight.

“Roger,” he whines, trembling with the strain of trying to stay still instead of grinding down onto Roger’s slowly softening cock. “Rog, please, please, I need to come, please tell me I can come…”

“Yeah, angel, yeah, of course you can,” Roger breathes. He moves one hand to massage John’s dick through the skirt and John chokes on a moan. The feeling of the cheap fabric rubbing against his cock is just the right side of pained-pleasure and he grinds up into Roger’s hand. He’s so close, he just needs a little more...

“C’mon, John,” Roger says. “Come for me, honey, go ahead and spill all over the inside of your pretty skirt for me.”

And that’s it for John, that’s all it takes for him to do exactly what Roger wants and finally fall into his own orgasm. He cries out as a wave of pleasure overwhelms him, his cock spurting against the fabric of the skirt as Roger keeps stroking him until John moans weakly and bats his hand away.

He collapses down on top of Roger and Roger wraps his arms around him, stroking his back gently and pressing kisses to the top of his head and murmuring soft words of praise and adoration as John catches his breath and slowly regains his senses.

“Ready to get out of that dress?” Roger asks after a few minutes of quiet cuddling.

“I think you’re supposed to ask me that before you fuck me,” John mumbles. His face is still buried against Roger’s chest and he can feel Roger laughing underneath him.

“Nah, it was much more fun to fuck you with the dress still on,” Roger says.

“Hm. Can’t really argue with that.”

Roger starts to sit up and John grumbles unhappily as he’s forced to move as well. “Sorry, but you’ll be more comfortable with this off,” Roger tells him as he pulls down the zipper on the back of John’s dress and helps him shimmy it down his body. John grimaces as the sticky skirt is pulled away from his skin, but Roger ducks into the bathroom to grab a washcloth and quickly helps him wipe down and once John tugs off his stockings he finally settles back down with a contented sigh.

“Do you need anything?” Roger asks as he throws the washcloth and John’s costume in with the rest of their laundry, though John doubts there’s any use in trying to wash the dress. They’ll just have to buy another one, if they want to do this again.

And John does want to do this again.

“Just you,” John says as he reaches out to Roger.

Roger laughs softly but climbs back into bed next to John. “You have me,” he says as he wraps his arms around John, and John snuggles close to him. “You always have me.”

#my fic #dealor fanfic #joger fanfic #queen band fanfic #john #roger #(pls read my fic and validate me afsjdlkjaksl)

11 notes · View notes

anasuisprisonwife · 5 years ago

Note

M o r e d a y o f f b u c c i h e a d c a n o n s P L E A S E the last batch was perfect and ily so much aegrshdtjhrsgeafewgrhd

Sdfljkghdsfg thank u very much I THE LOVELY ANON HAS DEMANDED AN ENCORE AND YE SHALL RECEIVE!*shitty trumpet sounds*To spice things up, here’s The Bucci Gang™ having a bad day offPS trish’s hair is dyed pink instead of her usual natural pink for the storytelling purposes ;)

U know the drill. Tis Safe 4 Work, just too long 4 the dashboards. Srry mobile users oof

FUGO:

Fugo decided to reward himself with a long nap today, but before he could even get fifteen minutes of rest, he’s rudely awakened by music blasting from the other side of the wall in Narancia’s room.

Filled with rage, Fugo stomps into the hallway to enter Narancia’s room unannounced. Before any words are spoken, Narancia shuts off the boombox and gives Fugo big, sad, guilty eyes.

Rather than unleashing his anger on the poor boy, Fugo sighs and hears him out when he tells him that his headphones have gone missing. Fugo hesitantly decides to let it go, but demands that Narancia turn down the volume.

At this point, Fugo’s too worked up to fall back asleep, so he decides to enjoy his leftovers in the fridge sooner than planned. After searching the fridge twice, he slams the door shut when he can’t find the food he saved for himself.

As a result, he just decides to reattempt his nap, but as soon as he gets himself comfortable in bed, he’s awoken by Abbacchio’s intense yelling.

NARANCIA:

Narancia wakes up on this cursed morning, with a solid plan to play video games for his entire day off. For some reason, his controller has stopped working, so he whacks it against the floor a couple times to see if that would kick start the cheap plastic.

When his only idea fails, he reaches for his headphones, only they’re not plugged into the stereo where he usually keeps them. Narancia makes an even bigger mess of his already disorganized room, but he can’t find the headphones anywhere.

Narancia ventures outside his room and asks Bruno if he’s seen the headphones anywhere. Clearly frustrated, Bruno tells him he has no idea where Narancia leaves his things and that maybe if he were more organized, he wouldn’t be losing belongings all the time.

He decides to retrace his steps based on the previous day, from the kitchen to the bathroom. The only other place he thought it could be was the car, but someone seems to have taken it out for the day.

Ultimately, Narancia declares it a lost cause and sits on the floor of his room with his music playing out loud. Unfortunately, this angers Fugo on the other side of the wall, so he has to turn it off and find something else to do.

MISTA:

First thing in the morning, Mista wakes up hungry and scans the fridge for something to eat. He doesn’t care that it’s breakfast time. Mista finds a wrapped sandwich sitting on the top shelf and doesn’t even bother to heat it up in the microwave.

After he’s finished devouring the sandwich, he tosses the wrapper and receives complaints from the pistols who didn’t even get a bite. On the way back to the fridge, his stomach begins to feel unsettled, and it’s no doubt from the food he ate moments ago.

Mista tries to ignore the discomfort in the meantime while quickly rummaging through the pantry to find some snacks for the pistols, but his body refuses to be neglected.

He apologizes to the pistols and makes his way to the bathroom, but the door is locked, and Abbacchio is yelling at him to go away. Mista protests, telling him that he thinks he has the shits, so Abbacchio unwillingly leaves the bathroom, and Mista bursts into laughter when he sees what Abbacchio was so angry about.

His time spent in the bathroom prompts him to take a shower immediately, and it’s the first one he’s taken in several days.

TRISH:

It hasn’t happened in a long time, but Trish wakes up sick with a sore throat. She only remembers her mother giving her medicine during these occasions when she was younger, but otherwise has no idea how to take care of herself.

Trish finds Bruno in his office and asks him for some help. He places his palm to her forehead and insists she goes back to bed when he feels that she’s warm. Bruno tells her that he’ll come by in a few moments to give her some medicine.

With no reason to oppose, she gets back into her room and lies back down. A decent amount of time goes by, and Bruno still hasn’t come in to check on her.

Some more time passes, so Trish falls asleep, shivering under her blankets.

After a few hours, she’s violently awakened by Abbacchio’s angry voice. Trish leaves her room, asks where Bruno is with a rasp in her sweet little voice, and she’s informed by a stressed Giorno that he just left with the car and has no idea where he’s going.

ABBACCHIO:

Abbacchio wakes up with a painful hangover, so he starts his day with a shower to try and relieve his headache. The light in the bathroom is too much for his eyes to handle, so he reaches for his hair products with closed eyes. He assumes that they may not even be his own bottles of shampoo and conditioner, (there are multiple different sets lined up on the tiled wall) but he’s too worn out to care.

When he feels refreshed enough, he steps out of the shower and notices that his hair has been tinted pink. Abbacchio panics and investigates the bottles in the shower. Apparently, he had grabbed Trish’s special colored shampoo and conditioner, causing the disastrous stain in Abbacchio’s already light-colored hair.

He dips his head under the faucet, trying to remove the color with his own shampoo, but every attempt doesn’t work. Eventually, he’s kicked out of the bathroom by Mista, who undoubtedly laughs at him.

Abbacchio decides to take his problem to the salon, but unfortunately the car isn’t parked in the garage. Once he’s locked himself away in his room, he puts on the headphones he stole back from Narancia and calms himself with his music until someone comes back with the car.

A while later, Abbacchio finds Giorno walking through the garage doorway with his snake. After wanting to cry all day, Abbacchio releases a wave of loud frustrations upon the tired Giorno for having the car for so long. Regardless, Abbacchio is told he’ll have to wait by an angry Bruno, who takes the keys from Giorno.

GIORNO:

When Giorno goes to feed his snake, he realizes that she doesn’t have much of an appetite. This worries Giorno because she shows no signs of molting, and it was very unlike her to be avoiding her food around this time.

Without hesitation, Giorno places her inside of her portable aquarium and drives her to the veterinarian. The line is long, and when he finally makes it to the front, the receptionists seem to have lost his information from their original visit. He bitterly takes the clipboard to fill out a new sheet of information, and just as he’s about to sign his name at the bottom, the lady apologizes and informs him that she found his information under Giovanni.

“What a stupid mistake,” Giorno thinks to himself, with a scowl on his face.

The wait is unbearable as ten cats and dogs are called into a room ahead of him. Giorno frequently checks on his snake to see if she’s eaten. When he’s finally called into the room, he’s simply told that she may not be eating due to low temperatures in the house.

Giorno pays the unreasonably priced bill for a simple answer and drives his snake home. After his long day, he just wants to relax and not have to think about the money he just spent but immediately receives a yelling when he enters the house from Abbacchio…with pink hair?

BRUNO:

Even though Bruno has the day off, he’s worrying about a deal he has to make in the morning, as a pale-looking Trish staggers through the door. After feeling her hot forehead, he immediately diverts his attention to looking for the medicine he bought Narancia the last time he had a fever.

The first place he thinks to check is the bathroom, and before he’s able to search the medicine cabinet, he’s invited inside by a sad looking Abbacchio with wet, pink hair.

“Oh,” is all Bruno’s able to say in response, as he’s covering his mouth, trying not to smile.

When he doesn’t find what he’s looking for, he begins searching the other rooms in the house. He passes Narancia, but isn’t feeling patient enough to deal with his problems at the moment. Even while Bruno goes through the kitchen drawers, he tells Fugo to shut up after slamming the fridge and raging about God knows what for the millionth time.

His last resort is to drive to the pharmacy, but when he opens the door to the garage, he finds that someone has already left with the car. Bruno works himself up by searching in less rational spots for the medicine. As he’s on hands and knees, checking under the couch in the living room, he hears Abbacchio yelling at Giorno about how long he’s been gone, which allows him to assume he can take the car. Bruno storms into the garage to finally rescue the sick Trish.

107 notes · View notes

emmies-archives · 4 years ago

Note

Thank you so much for requesting!! Song prompts: 3. “Trust me, Darling.” Bad Liar by Imagine Dragons. 18. “Push me out, I’ll pull you close.” What You’re Made of by Lindsey Stirling.

Todoroki Shoto x Female Reader.

Word Count: 3.4K

Genre: Some angst, lots of fluff

Warnings: Endeavor being d*ck, cursing, slight nsfw mentions at end