#just a little bit of crack though because i thought this prompt was funny

[mad-maximoff]

We Met Again

Part 2 of When We Met since y’all asked so damn much! I just hope this one doesn't get censored too😅

Summary: You were on a 6-month-long mission with Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes only to come back to the compound and face Wanda.

Warnings: G!P reader, angst, making out, unprotected sex, ejaculation , soft sex turned rough, hair-pulling, breaking the bed (literally😂),

Word Count: 3,702

Prt 1 Here

"Welcome back Y/n, how was your little adventure with the boys?" Kate Bishop stood behind the bar making herself a pink alcoholic slush of some sort. You were covered in dirt and soot from head to toe. You just got off a mission with Sam and Bucky. You were in Egypt going about looking for a highly classified terrorist ring. Thankfully you got to them before they started their reign. 

"Adventure my ass. I slept on the dirt while the boys slept in cozy beds like princesses. I tell you what I need is a shower and to take a well-deserved dirt nap in a real bed." You threw your weapons on the table halting at a chair and flinging off your boots. "I'll clean this shit up later Kat, I've been waiting for this." You turned to see Kate pouring herself a tall misshapen glass full of pink slush. "Sure thing Y/n, you and I are the only ones here I think. You want the rest?" She licked the side of her glass where she spilt. "Why not, might help me crash harder." You reached around Kate grabbing the whole blender. There was more than a mouthful left. You thought maybe it was strawberry daiquiri, so you thought nothing of it and chugged it. The first sip made you gag.

"Jesus Christ Bishop! Paloma? Really? What are you 40? You've been around Potts too long. Good lord.." You hated tequila, especially grapefruit. You polished it off not backing down leaving it on a table in the middle of the hallway. You knew there were empty beds not touched by any of the other Avengers. Basically new. It was funny really. Everything to you looked new but it was just the same as the last time you were down this hallway. Maybe it looked new because the last time you were here you were drunk with your pants around your ankles. Come to think of it. That table was new. You pivoted around noticing the table on further inspection. You saw a crack along the wall. Oh yeah, you remember. That was the spot. The spot where you and Wanda...

Yeah...Wanda...

You remember where her room was. You remember you crashed there after you both finished your fun in the hall. Curiosity killed the cat. You noticed the door was slightly cracked allowing light to shine through. But it was almost midnight, it wasn't natural light. It was from a light. Is she there? Did she forget to turn off the lights? Maybe. You pondered. Kate did say after all you two were the two here so it was bound she forgot. It's a common mistake. 

You tip-toed over to her room letting your fingers creep through the part between the door and the wall slightly allowing the length of your fingers to pry the door a bit more. Your strength got the hold of you as it flung open. Wanda was sitting at the edge of her bed in her room, with her leg raised to lean her elbow on her knee, underneath her chin. 

"Kate honey I told you for the third time today. We can drink and watch Sex and The City tomorrow. I don't feel up to it." She huffed watching the news. Her brows were furrowed, her eyes darting back and forth watching the live footage of whatever catastrophe happened. "So you're the one drinking Palomas huh?" You leaned in the door frame crossing your arms. You had to laugh. You never thought she was a cocktail girl. Though..you never thought she was the kind to give blowjobs either but you were surprised by both.

"Oh..it's you...no I don't drink that shit. She found Tony's recipe book for Pepper and his date nights and she's drinking like a fish...When did you come back to the States?" She was genuinely surprised to see me. Her leg fell from where it was prompted. Wanda stood up walking the length of her bedframe around to meet you.

You were shocked also. Maybe she wasn't showing yet? You swore you thought you'd come home and find her pregnant but unless she's super athletic or has it hidden she doesn't look like she's expecting.

"Ah 30 minutes ago. Um..stupid question.." You scratched your head looking down at Wanda then back up at her eyes. She laughed standing in front of you. Her hand reached to your cheek whipping the loose dirt from your undereye. 

"Haha no! Unfortunately, I'm not pregnant. I don't know how. I always thought that first tries always work. I even helped you out a bit." 

"Unfortunately? You wanted me to get you pregnant? Are you insane? You don't even know me and you want kids from me! I'm too young to have a family! Even with my powers...let alone, what gives you the right to choose for me!" You broke her hand away backing away. You had to leave or else there'll be bigger cracks in the wall. 

"Y/n please, I never meant to hurt you. I just got confused that's all. You were so nice to me and after I lost Vis 2 times and lost my boys I just felt you comforted me. That's all." Wanda reached again grasping your bicep. You pulled away again this time hitting the wood casing around the frame with your elbow. The wood casing flew off behind you hitting the hallway floor.

"No! Don’t you dare touch me! All you cared about was yourself! Just because someone showed you comfort doesn't mean you let them cum inside you, Wanda! That's really fucked up! I'm sorry you lost your family but you can't just use me to play house!" You growled noticing your rage was becoming the better of you. Wanda through your eyes was becoming tiny. Her body language was making her small. Curling her fingers into the sleeves of her black cardigan, crossing her arm over to her elbow. She looked down at her bare feet letting out a shakey breath.

"I'm really sorry Y/n...I don't know what I was thinking. I've been so used to having people around me. That it feels weird to be by myself." Wanda's head was bowed letting her newly brown hair almost cover her head. A tiny tear ran down her blushed cheek wiping it away quickly.

All you saw was red. Not by Wanda's magic. But for some reason, you were enraged. How could you be this angry over something you fully did with Wanda 6 months ago? Maybe you do have a tiny bit of an anger problem. Little? In this case, that's an understatement. 

You huffed feeling the hot pressure on your chest cool down to your stomach. You think seeing Wanda so visibly upset may have broken your cross attitude. 

"Get used to it, Wanda." You had to storm off. If the conversation got any more heated; one of you was going to end up in a wall. And it was most likely going to be you. Maybe I'm just tired. Maybe if I get some sleep and a good shower I can speak to her more clearly. 

You thought gliding to one of the newly furnished rooms. 

Each room had its own bathroom. Tony is a playboy so obviously the bathroom was soundproof. The entire compound was all technology so a press of a button and the bedroom could be soundproof. You didn't need that tonight. You wished there was a switch to soundproof your head. 

How could I snap like that? I haven't done that in years! What the hell was I thinking to begin with?! You felt like you could stand under the hot water for hours. It took two layers of body wash just to scrub away the dirt from your body and finally feel human. Maybe you were scrubbing off your anger with it in a sense. You had your little outbursts but this one almost made you black out. Your lofa scraped at your skin furiously, leaving little imprints everywhere. Your back flexed in the mirror examining your clean body. Your hips were women but your shoulders and torso were the shape of a man. You had average-sized breasts. They were nothing special, they were nice to look at but nothing that could turn any heads. Perhaps you could say they were bigger than average but you never noticed.

You got out of the bathroom with the towel wrapped around your waistbone, as you inhaled walking to the foot of your bed your v-line showed every breath you took. You thought if someone was to walk in it would be less surprising seeing you topless instead of bottomless. 

"Fuck...you got buff little one.." You gasped in fright hearing Wanda's quiet voice coming from the chair hidden next to the wall. Wanda's makeup was smeared all over her under her eyes. She was sniffling back what little tears she produced. She was crying heavily, using the sleeves of her cardigan. "What the fuck do you want now? Can't you see I'm busy? I'm not giving in to your mind games." You turned to face your back to her loosening the towel from your waist to dry your legs. You reached around putting on a pair of boxer briefs. You heard a creek come from the corner of your room knowing Wanda got up. Her bare feet were quiet on the hardwood but not quiet enough for you to hear. 

"No mind games Y/n. I-I...wanted to apologize...you were right. I need to start learning how to be on my own. I deserve to be alone. I shouldn't have let you do those things to me." She held back a cry making her eyes gloss over. 

"Hey, I didn't mean it like that. I was actually going to apologize to you. I don't know what came over me. I lost my temper too quickly. I haven't done that in years. I shouldn't have taken it out on you." Your hands lifted Wanda's chin to look at you, letting all of her hair fall back behind her shoulders. She looked like a baby raccoon. It was cute but you felt awful that she was crying because of you. "I'm so sorry Wanda." Wanda's hands placed around your hips, sliding herself closer to your body. You pulled her in deeper holding her close. Her head rested on your shoulder letting her finish her cries. Your hands caressed her skull, intertwining with her locs. 

"It's okay..please, please stop crying. You're making me feel worse." You sat her down on the foot of the bed still massaging Wanda's head. She buried her face in your chest noticing her sobs being muffled into silent sniffles. One of your hands dropped placing it on her chest, directly on top of her heart. Her beats were rapid on the first touch, but once you dragged your fingertips along her skin she settled. Your other hand finally dropped rubbing her spine. She was frail in comparison to your body. Every muscle you flexed made it seem more apparent. 

"Thank you," she sniffled, using her sleeve to wipe away her stained makeup. "Thank you very much Y/n. I feel like sometimes I can just go off the handle." Wanda wiped another tear with her sleeve again, the tears glossed in her eyes and made her pupils sparkle as she looked so passionately into your eyes. 

"It's fine Wanda. We all go off the handle some days. I did it on you earlier. We just need to relax a little. The both of us." 

                             ╳°»｡ ∾･⁙･ ღ ➵ ⁘ ➵ ღ ･⁙･∾ ｡«°╳

You and Wanda laid down together in silence. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence however, it felt somehow to you a healing silence. You two didn’t need to talk, that’s what got you two into shit before. Just cuddling together. Wanda laid her head on your bare chest. You threw on a random stupid movie on TV, it was one of those goofy movies that two dudes probably smoked a joint and started filming. You didn’t like it; Wanda found it comical. She’d laugh at the slightest action or joke. 15 minutes later however she was silent. You peered down checking up on her. Her eyes fluttered, she was falling asleep. You twitched which made her jump. 

“Jesus…what’s happened?” She whispered. I knew she fell asleep for a moment. You could hear it in her tone. Groggy and low. 

“Nothing sorry. My leg just spasmed. It’s okay, you can go back to sleep.” Your hand ran down Wanda's thigh. Her skin was soft just like you remembered. 

“Shut up, I wasn't sleeping.” She giggled rolling her head the other way. 

“Oh I'm sorry, I just saw the stucco on the ceiling coming apart so I thought you were snoring.” You joked.

“Fuck off!” She laughed sitting up on your lap. “I do not snore!” Her hands grasped a fist full of your bare breasts in either hand. It felt good to be handled again. As soon as her hands touched you that way, you instantly felt you were getting hard. It wasn't an embarrassment any longer. You had another one-night encounter after Wanda that made feel 10x better about your appearance. 

“No, that's just loudly humming in your sleep isn't it?” Your hands tightened around her hips slowly moving them back and forth. Wanda sucked air through her teeth letting a little gasp. "Ohh-stop!" She laughed biting her lower lip. "You want something else don't you detka?" Her dress grazed the front of your boxers, just to tease you. 

"Perhaps. This time, it's on my terms. This time." Your hands pushed down on Wanda's thighs rubbing your forming bludge on the fabric of her panties. Her brows raised, turning her cheeks into a rose colour. "Really? Would you still want to? Even after everything I did?..."  

“Of course.” You freed your hands from her thighs, swishing a strand of her hair away from her face looking into her emerald eyes. She giggled again looking down at your chest. “You’re tits are huge Y/n.” Wanda’s hands clutched my full chest. "I don't think I saw them last time." She squeezed each handful. You whinced with her nails digging into your skin. 

"Ha! Well, I hope you remember something else's size." You joked lightly tugging at your boxers. “Hmm..I think I definitely need a refresher.” Wanda tugged the hem of her dress; pulling it over her head as her arms whisked it to the floor. Wanda’s hands jerked at the elastic band around your hips. Your fairly large erection greeted both of you with a fair shock as it bounced its way to freedom. “Oh yes, I remember now.” Her tongue folded against the tops of her teeth. Your hands held a firm grip on either side of Wanda’s panties ripping them off. “Seems you don’t need this huh?” She giggled letting out a small whimper. “Fuck-…can we stop all this talking Y/n? I really need you.” Your fingers trailed along her mound going further in her slit. Her inner core was silk. Your finger slipped inside effortlessly. Her little sounds became more low. “Oh…g-god.” Her head dropped down making her lips lay on mine. "Stop fucking teasing me..." She groaned as her teeth bit the bottom of my lip. "Okay, you asked for it." You flipped Wanda onto her back. The bed's feet raised as the bed made a thump. "Did you want condoms?" 

"N-no. No, Wanda, I can pull out." You bent down locking your lips with hers again. "Haha..sure, sure you can Y/n." Wanda's eyes glowed red again briefly. "Fuck no more games. Just let me fuck you by myself." Your fingers slid between Wanda's folds before slipping your cock inside. She gasped curling her fingers into the sheets. Your hands planted on the mattress on either side of Wanda's head. She uncurled her fingers from the bedsheets, moving them around your wrists. Her breaths were choppy trying to get ahold. You thought she looked so beautiful underneath you, the way her skin naturally glowed, her pearly white smile chewing her bottom lip, the way she looked at you. Not in a loving way just yet, in an adoring way? A needing way. 

"Go on. Keep making those pretty sounds for me, sweetheart." Your hips dove in feeling her walls coating you effortlessly. Wanda’s whines grew deafening, her eyes did not stop turning shades of red. 

“Oh shit…y/n…uh-…” Wanda's head rolled back on the mattress. Dropping her jaw open. You began to thrust with a heavy pace. Becoming quick with every moan that escaped Wanda’s lips. The bed frame formed a squeaking noise with each pump into the brunette. Wanda’s leg had a hard time trying to stay afloat around your hips, slipping every movement you two shared. You stopped pulling out briefly. 

“What-..Y/n? Why did stop?! Continuă…” Wanda cried out allowing her hands to fall scratching your biceps. “I will, don't worry. Go flip on your stomach, on your knees and bend over.” Wanda sighed a sly smile flipping onto her knees, arching her back letting her chest lay on the mattress. She glanced over her shoulder with her hair covering her face. Your hand traced her temple softly, leading your fingers into the brunette's long strands. Grasping a fistful of Wanda’s hair. You peered down watching your cock twitch in anticipation with Wanda’s ass sway in the same feeling of suspense. Your other hand grasped Wanda’s thigh sliding your shaft back into her slick folds. 

“Oh…fuck-” Wanda sucked air through her teeth tilting her head down with your hand still tight on her hair. You did begin to thrust slowly as you once did, you began to ram yourself deeply inside the witch as though you were pushing through air. Wanda's hand gave out mid-pump landing on her chest. Her hands gripped the bedsheets as she tried to move her head to a more comfortable spot. "Fuck...you have such a nice ass." You twisted Wanda's hair around your knuckles applying a forceful tug. Her head raised leaving a spot of drool on the sheets. "Uh-huh!" Wanda's head cocked further to watch you. Your hand jerked the fistful of Wanda's hair pulling her hair as hard as you could muster without ripping all of her hair out entirely. Her body lifted off the mattress onto her knees. Her back pressed on your chest laying her head on your shoulder. "Oh god!...Shit!" Your wrist could not take it anymore, you let go of Wanda's hair allowing it to fall behind your shoulder. Your hand relaxed on Wanda's thigh attaching every finger around the softest part of her leg. Wanda's arm flung around your throat holding herself up. "Shit...I'm going to cum..." Wanda's moans were silent as she took a small breath. "Huh? Good baby...me too." You sighed out feeling yourself climbing higher and higher up to your point of no return. "Do it Y/n." Wanda used her knees bouncing her body against you. 

"Do what Wand?" You groaned in her ear smelling her sweet perfume sweat off onto you. "Cum in me...please..." Her cheek heated on yours as you felt her jaw lock open not letting another sound out. "Y-you sure? I don't know." You did not want to take that chance again, you had some rendezvous with a certain green bulky woman in Egypt, knowing you mastered your craft of pulling out. If you did not get her pregnant 6 months ago, hell, you couldn't do it again right? 

"F-fine...you want me to cum inside you huh?" You huffed tightening your grip on Wanda's thighs, the wooden bedframe continued to rattle. The frame began to bell out with your knees ready to cave. "Yes! Yes!" 

"Yes, what?" 

"Cum inside me Y/n! Fill me!" Wanda's voice shrieked out letting go of a low-toned moan. "Oh god! I'm cumming!" Wanda grasped firmly on your neck vibrating her entire body. Her eyes glow red tracing red mists around both of your bodies. "Fuck!" The pressure within you exploded, you could not think if it was you that came or if Wanda had some help to speed it up. You felt your cock throb spewing out your cum in the witch. She tried her best to make her body stay still, her thighs would not stop fidgeting. You bucked your knees forward to have Wanda fall on her stomach as you fell with her. The bedframe finally gave way as the mattress hit the floor. You both hit a thump, Wanda chuckled under your body softly as she took a quick breath. "Well, shit. How do you expect to explain this to Tony?" 

"We'll blame Kate," You sighed wiping a bead of sweat from your brow. "She got too drunk and we found her jumping on the bed. Agreed?" 

"Agreed detka. Let's get out of here. We can go to my room." You arose to see the bedposts still standing but the wood beams holding the bed just fell. "Well, this was a great welcome back." You stretched out your arms above your head hearing the cracks of your shoulder blades. "I'd say so." You stood up from the mattress whisking your boxers off the floor. 

"Y/n? You don't need those." Wanda sat up on her knees running her hands through her hair. You bent over as you picked Wanda up by her thighs and wrapped them around your waist. "Haha! I sure do. I don't want to scare Kate if we run into her." You took hefty strides over to the bedroom door, making your way down the hall to Wanda's room. Wanda draped her hands around your neck giving a sly little smile as she looked over her shoulder. Her wrist flicked a red mist, you witnessed the red mist run down the staircase doing nothing after it left the stairs. "There. She won't bug us. I put her to sleep for the night. Now, we can have more fun." 

"Good. Let's hope I don't break your bed this time." 

"Well, don't promise that. I'd love you to ruin me." Her finger traced along your jaw down your throat. "Ask, and you shall receive." 

#wandamaximoff #scarlet witch #lgbt #lesbian #fanfiction #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff x reader #g!p #g!p reader #marvel fanfic #Marvel #fanfic #wlw fanfic #wlw

[freeuselandonorris]

i wish you would write a fic featuring lando saying 'thank you' just like in the clip you just posted 😵‍💫

hi anon! excellent prompt. (as a reminder, anon is referring to this video of lando in subspace during neck training).

i watched loads of max and lando's streams from when they lived together while i was in bed with flu last week and i'm so fascinated by how fucking rude lando is at times and how patiently max puts up with it.

lando norris/max fewtrell, explicit. contains light impact play (spanking).

They’d never talked about it. It wasn’t like Lando had ever asked for it, never come right out and said hey Max, do you think you could spank me until your hand’s hurting and my arse cheeks are bright red? But then, he’d never asked Max to fuck him either, and they’d done plenty of that over the last few months.

It wasn’t a regular occurrence, the fucking. 

Other stuff, sure. Max had given and received more handjobs over since he’d moved in with Lando than he’d had hot dinners. They’d watched porn together, Max ignoring the on-screen action in favour of watching the way Lando’s face scrunched up before he came, like he was about to burst into tears. He’d sucked Lando off a few times, clumsy and inexperienced, and sunk his own cock into the wet heat of Lando’s throat a few times too. But Lando was a bit funny about fucking. Squeamish. Afraid of anything that might embarrass him. So it was on his terms, which was fair enough because Max was fairly certain he wasn’t into the idea of having anything stuck up his hole any time soon either, so who was he to judge? 

But God, the feeling of it. Tight and hot and sucking, like Lando’s body was trying to drag him further inside. It made Max want to spin it out, make it last longer – he was in no hurry to come, not when it felt so good to hold Lando loosely by the hips and watch the muscles shifting in his back as he squirmed, pulling him back against his hips in slow, shallow thrusts. He could’ve done it all day.

Except Lando was fucking the world’s biggest spoiled brat, and couldn’t just let Max do it his way. Even though Max would treat him right, make it good, make it last. Had to try and play backseat driver, even when he was on his hands and knees. 

“Fucking hurry up,” he whined, trying to shove his hips back, impale himself faster and harder. “Why are you being so slow?” 

Because I might not get to feel this again any time soon, Max thought but didn’t say, and ground his teeth. 

“Shut up,” he said instead, although he did speed up the pace of his thrusts, just a bit. “Not everything’s a fucking race.”

Lando laughed, breathless and shuddery, in a way that went right through his body and into Max’s dick. “That’s your problem, mate, you think that’s true.”

Which was a low fucking blow by anyone’s standards, given the circumstances, never mind whether he was balls deep in Lando or not. Max knew when he was being baited. Instead of rising to it and fucking Lando harder, faster, like he wanted, he stilled his hips entirely. 

“Bob,” he said, and raised his right hand, lining it up. “You need to learn some fucking manners.”

He brought his hand down onto the meat of Lando’s right cheek with a resounding crack, and Lando shrieked and jolted and clenched around Max’s dick so hard he thought he might come on the spot.

The skin reddened into a handprint immediately, a blurry outline. Max’s palm stung. He held his breath, waiting for Lando to throw a proper fit, call Max fit to burn, banish him to a sad wank in the bathroom to finish himself off. 

“Fuck,” Lando hissed, and craned his head over his shoulder to stare at Max. His eyes were wide, cheeks blotchy like he got when he’d been crying. “Oh, shit. Do that again.”

Max blinked. A peculiar feeling rushed through his veins, hot and cold all at once. His cock twitched in Lando’s hole, a muted little jerk. 

“I will if you say please,” he said. He rolled his hips, a slow drag, tipping his head back at the feeling of Lando’s tight body around him. His palm was still tingling. Fuck. 

Lando laughed, a low gargle. “You prick.” He dropped to his elbows, so his arse was sticking up more, taut and lightly tanned. He knew how to make himself as appealing as possible, you had to hand it to him. Even his tanlines were hot, the bastard. 

“Told you,” Max panted out, and passed his hand over the red print, squeezing. The skin he’d hit was hotter. Max looked at his cock disappearing in and out of Lando’s arse, shining with lube. “Manners.”

Lando made a frustrated sound and smacked the flat of his palm against the bed. “Please,” he said, like the word was being dragged out of him against his will. 

Max blinked at the ceiling, feeling the smile stretch across his face. “There you go,” he said, delirious. “Wasn’t that hard, was it?”

He brought his hand down again, and Lando bit out a groan, body jerking at the impact. 

“Fuck,” he repeated. He sounded unsure of himself, like he couldn’t decide if he liked it or not. “Again.”

“Manners,” Max reminded him, and Lando whined, high-pitched and frustrated. Fuck, this was brilliant. Max rocked into him shallowly, smacked him again when Lando finally said please.

Lando shuddered and moaned every time Max’s cock slid into him up to the hilt, like he couldn’t get enough of it. The sounds he made were soft and langurous compared to the sharp cries every time Max spanked him again. 

“God,” he spat after one particularly hard blow, dropping to his forearms and shaking his head like a dog, like Max had hit him across the face and made his ears ring rather than across the arse. “Thank you.”

The way he said it, it was like he really meant it. The words sliding out of him on an exhale, a breathy little half-sob, like he was giving into something he’d been fighting against for a long time. 

“That’s it,” Max said. Usually he’d have been embarrassed of the way his voice came out, a tight groan that made it clear just how turned on he was, but right now he couldn’t give a fuck. “That’s it, say that again.”

“Thank you,” Lando said obediently, almost before Max’s hand had even made contact with his skin. He sounded like he was enjoying saying it, like the shape of the words in his mouth gave him some extra pleasure. Max couldn’t see his face, but he could tell from the tone of Lando’s voice that he was smiling, a loose wet expression like he got when he’d been drinking.

His arse was so red. The handprints were blurring into each other, one pink mass with the vague outlines of Max’s fingers still visible in places. Max took him by the hips and lifted until Lando’s knees were barely brushing the bed, making him yelp. 

“Say ‘thank you for fucking me’,” Max said, because he never knew when to stop and be grateful for a good thing. 

Lando spluttered, laughing in a way that was clearly an attempt to be derisive, but it tipped into a moan when Max thrust into him, so deep his pubic bone ached where it ground against Lando’s coccyx. 

He swore under his breath, and Lando shuddered an inhale. 

“Thank you for fucking me,” he said, the words falling out of his mouth in a slurred tumble. “Thank you for – fuck –” Max spanked him again, one quick sharp slap. “Thank you, thank you.” 

He kept repeating it like that, fast and frenetic, like he was keeping time with the movement of Max’s hips fucking into him. He was propping himself on one arm, the muscles in his shoulder and the back of his arm flexing as he jerked himself off. He looked like every one of Max’s wet dreams since the age of about fourteen.

He thanked Max as he came, voice rising to a high and reedy whine as he came into the tight clutch of his fist. Max fucked him through it, reflecting on the downside of doing it doggy style: he couldn’t see Lando’s face, the blank bliss of it, the whites of his eyes. Shame. 

Still, it wasn’t like there wasn’t enough to get him off in the heave of Lando’s chest, the twitch of his hole around Max’s dick, the warm red patches still glowing against the paler skin of his arse. Lando had barely even started with the whimpering oversensitive noises before Max was grabbing him by the hips to hold him in place, trying and failing to keep his eyes open as he came. 

He gave himself up to a count of five in his mind before gritting his teeth and pulling out, still half-hard and sensitive to the touch. No sense waiting; Lando would only get more and more angsty, hated the feeling of being wet and stretched out after he’d come. 

Picking up his discarded boxers, Max watched Lando collapse onto his stomach. He reached for his t-shirt, feeling the chill in the air against his sweaty chest, but Lando shot a hand out and snatched it out of his grasp, reaching down between his legs to wipe himself off.

“Wow,” Max said. That shirt had cost him sixty quid, for fuck’s sake. “Can you not? I’ll go and get you a flannel or something, Christ.”

Lando just grunted, wiped his sticky hand before he let Max’s t-shirt drop to the floor. Max lifted his hands in despair. 

“Get me a can of Rubicon, would you?” Lando said, rolling onto his back and squinting up at Max. “I’m gasping.”

Max sighed heavily, putting it on a bit for show, but actually he was fucking thirsty himself, now he thought about it. He padded off to the kitchen, leaving Lando fumbling his phone out from under the pillows, grabbed two freezing cans out of the fridge and a roll of kitchen towel in the hope of salvaging the rest of his clothes from Lando’s idea of a clean-up attempt.

“Here y’go,” he said to Lando, back in the bedroom, snapping one of the cans open and holding it out. 

Lando took it from him and guzzled noisily, eyes still fixed on his phone. 

“‘Thanks, Max, appreciate it’,” Max parrotted, flopping onto the bed next to him. Lando looked up at him with narrowed eyes, pushed the cold corner of his can into the soft flesh of Max’s belly, making him flinch.

Well, alright, Max thought as he grabbed for Lando’s wrist, trying to wrench him away without getting covered in sticky fruit juice. Looks like he’s going to need a lot more training. 

#lando norris/max fewtrell #ln4 #mf7 #answered #prompt fill

[aziraphales-library]

Hi, dear mods! I come with a rec and an associated ask. The rec is a sweet little crackish-premised "Aziraphale is a literal star and Crowley is a black hole" AU with references to canon and a cool play around astronomical phenomena. It's called "Like a spiral sea unending" by hapax (hapaxnym). It's a gem, but the problem is, basically all the tags for it are quite useless, because it's such an uncommon idea. Do you happen to know more of these (possibly crackish) impossible-to-find-cause-you-d-never-thought-you-needed-one fics? Preferably funny, not explicit, and with clever references to canon if AU? (I have no idea if canon-compliant fics can be like this).

Have a nice day!

Hello! Tags we have that you might be interested in for more fun and unusual fics are #crack and #outsider pov. Here are some more for you...

Context by Fyre (G)

Sometimes, when you overhear someone in the street, you lack context. An angel, a demon, and three accidental eavesdroppers.

A Culinary Misadventure by PurpleRose (T)

Based on the the prompt: Aziraphale tries to sneak into hell because he wants to see if he can eat S'mores with marshmallows roasted in hellfire. Naturally he gets caught, Crowley finds out, and if you thought he was pissed about the Bastille...

Dear Raphael by asideofourown (T)

The thing was, even after Crowley Fell, Heaven forgot to delete his login to their system. The only half interesting thing he had ever found in Heaven’s archives was their newspaper, even though it was a dreadfully dull rag. But even then, Crowley was never inspired to truly interfere with the Celestial Observer’s contents until the late 1600s, when advice columns were invented on Earth. As always, brilliant inspiration struck him like… like whatever inspiration strikes like. So Crowley resolved to meddle, just as a side project. Maybe if he got enough angels heated at each other, he could report it as a victory to Hell. Anyway, Dagon had always liked gossip, and the Celestial Observer’s new advice column was a ready source of that. It was pure genius. [Crowley, demon of Hell, becomes Heaven's foremost advice columnist]

The Wheel of Fortune by Quefish (T)

Crowley decides to enjoy a bit of mischief by being a game show contestant. Aziraphale is dragged along, much to his dismay.

You've Got Kudos by curtaincall (M)

Aziraphale and Crowley both write fanfiction. As it happens, they both write Good Omens fanfiction. Of course, neither of them would ever admit this to the other. (A love story told primarily in AO3 comments)

The Fortune Teller by AppleSeeds (T)

Through the course of his academic research, Aziraphale discovers that a curse was placed on Edwardian seer Anthony Crowley, trapping him inside a fairground fortune telling automaton for over a century. Aziraphale is determined to find a way to set Crowley free, and becomes increasingly enamoured with him, both from reading his words and through the unconventional conversation they manage to share.

And the one you mentioned...

Like a spiral sea unending by hapax (G)

They used to shine, once. But that was a long time ago. As a black hole, Crowley is condemned to a lonely existence. But then they encounter one bright particular star...

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #crack #humour #fluff #mod d

[stevesbipanic]

Hello. I noticed these ficlets, so I was wondering if I can add one too: Robin comes out to Steve, but he already figured it out.

Ty for this prompt, here's my reimagined version of the bathroom scene.

Steve sat next to the mall toilet clutching it tightly after emptying his stomach.

"The ceiling stopped spinning for me. Is it still spinning for you?"

"Holy shit. No. You think we puked it all up?"

"Maybe. Ask me something. Interrogate me.

"Haha! Ok. Interrogate you. Sure. Uhm when was the last time you peed your pants?"

"Today."

"What?"

"When the Russian doctor took out the bone saw.

Steve starts giggling again, "Oh my god."

"It was just a little bit though," Robin replies joining in his laughter.

"Yeah it's definitely still in your system."

"Alright my turn."

"Ok, hit me."

"Have you...ever been in love?"

"Honestly? No."

"Not even Nancy Wheeler? She's such a priss."

"Turns out, not really."

"Anyone else you got your eye on?"

"I thought I found someone who's a little bit better for me. And it's crazy. Ever since Dustin got home, he's been saying, you know, "you gotta find your Suzie. You gotta find your Suzie."

"Wait who's Suzie?"

"It's some girl from camp. I guess it's his girlfriend. To be honest with you, I'm not 100% sure she's even real. But that's not...that's not really the point. It doesn't matter. The point is this girl, it's somebody that I didn't even talk to at school. And I don't even know why. Maybe because Tommy H would have made fun of me or I wouldn't be prom king. It's stupid, I mean, Dustin's right, it's all just a bunch of bullshit anyways. Because when I think about it, I should have been hanging out with this girl the whole time. First of all, she's hilarious. She's so funny. Like this summer, I've laughed harder than I have laughed in a really long time. And she's smart. Way smarter than me. She can crack top secret Russian codes. You know, she's honestly unlike anyone I've ever met before.

Robin is quiet in the next stall.

"Robin? Robin, did you just OD in there?"

"No. I am still alive."

Steve slides under the stall, sitting across from Robin.

"The floor's disgusting."

"Yeah well I've already got a bunch of blood and puke on my shirt so...What do you think?"

"About?"

"This girl?"

"She sounds awesome."

"She is awesome"

"Steve, I need to tell you something."

"Yeah Robin?"

"I'm not like Nancy Wheeler."

"I know Robin."

"No you don't understand Steve, I will never be like Nancy Wheeler."

"I know Robin. I lied earlier. I do remember you in Mrs Click's class. I noticed you everyday."

"Steve I wasn't looking at you."

"I know Robin, Tammy Thompson sat next to me."

"What?"

"Honestly you should have better taste than that Muppet."

"She did not sound like a Muppet!"

Steve does a very bad but very accurate impression of Tammy's singing. Robin can't help but laugh.

"Wait but, but how did you know?"

"I didn't love Nancy Wheeler, Robin, and I tried really hard to love you the way that my dad would want me to. But I can't, I don't."

"Holy shit."

"Yeah...Holy shit."

"Is that why you flirted with Eddie Munson the other day?"

"You had a crush on Kermit!"

If they get out of this alive, Steve and Robin think they're going to have a lot to talk about.

#ty for the prompt ❤️ #stranger things #stobin #platonic stobin #platonic soulmates #coming out scene #bathroom scene #steve harrington #robin buckley #brief steddie #gay steve harrington #lesbian robin buckley #st3 #had to rewatch the scene for the beginning quotes #ficlet

[chaotic-super]

Live With Me - Chapter 20 (The Final Chapter)

Read the full fic on AO3 here!

Kara hums thoughtfully, prompting Lena to turn her head toward the reporter working tirelessly on her laptop at the kitchen island.

“What is it?”

“I’m just going over the list Cat compiled of all the main conspirators of the government subterfuge, and I thought I knew all of these people inside and out because of all my research, but there’s a name here that I don’t recognize.”

Lena frowns, her eyebrows knitting together as she stops putting the dishes away so she can move to peer over Kara’s shoulder. “What’s their name? Maybe you just can’t remember.”

Kara pins her with an unconvinced look, her lips pouted a little in annoyance. “You think I would forget someone after spending as many hours as I have pouring my soul into this research?”

Lena rolls her eyes at her fondly as she presses her lips to the crown of Kara’s head before settling her eyes on the document strewn across her keyboard. “Which name?”

“This one.” Kara taps just below the name in question.

“Veronica Sinclair. Now that’s a name I haven’t heard in quite a while.”

“You know her?”

“Knew.” Lena corrects. “I’m not surprised to see her name on a list of corrupt people though. Last I heard, she was running a cock fighting ring and a cock fighting ring.”

Kara frowns. “You said that twice. It’s the same thing.”

“No.” Lena raises a brow. “It’s not.”

“What?” Kara turns to look into Lena’s eyes, and when she does, she finally understands. “Oh! Oh…only one of those is illegal though.”

“Well, it’s not considering the fact that in both cases, the losing cock gets put down.”

Kara’s eyes grow wide. “And she got away with that?”

“She’s always gotten away with terrible things. She’s vindictive too. I’m surprised she didn’t manage to slip through the cracks this time. It’s a wonder she’s even shown up on this document. I knew her in boarding school, and she ratted out every girl who so much as looked at a joint, but she was the heaviest smoker there and never saw the inside of the detention hall.”

“Of course. One of those people.” Kara grimaces, staring at the name on the page with disdain.

“Pretty good kisser though.”

Kara’s head whips back at Lena. She’s greeted by an amused smile. “That’s not funny.”

“It is. I love it when you get a little bit jealous.”

“I’ll make you eat those words later, baby.” Kara murmurs.

“I’ll hold you to that.” Lena leans in to kiss her softly before she pulls back and clears her throat. “Anyway, what document is that?”

“It’s the list of all the people who either already sponsored the plan for the hell facility or people who had commitments to it.”

Lena’s eyes furrow as she reads through the list. “Most of these are heads of companies or are from mega-rich families. They’re not all government officials. That makes me think they planned for it to go private after a while.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning all the people on this list were doing it for money. They were willing to experiment, torture and probably kill people for a buck.”

Kara shakes her head. “I wish I could line them all up and punch them in the face one by one.”

Lena squints at her. “That’s…ok. I think they’ll get their just desserts anyway, darling. Most of these people have either been arrested or demoted to such a low level of power that they’d have to beg for change to buy jumper cables if they want to experiment on anyone.” 

Kara hums. “High population area and they might have enough within a couple of weeks.”

“Maybe don’t take that analogy seriously.” Lena chuckles, squeezing Kara’s shoulders before she steps away to finish putting the dishes away. “Are we still going to CatCo today?”

Kara starts shuffling the documents into a neat pile. “I think so. Cat wants to have a little party to celebrate the end of this nonsense. She’s convinced that now the government is having a major reshuffle, all of our focus, and the world’s focus, will be on that rather than everything that happened. It’s over.”

“I don’t think it’s something the world will forget.” Lena offers.

“I know, it’s too big to be forgotten. I guess it just makes me feel a kind of way knowing that all of this crap can happen and the world moves on. Just like that.”

Lena sighs. “I know. The good part of people moving on is that there’s no longer a flock of reporters and photographers outside our front gate though.”

Kara tries her best to suppress a smile, but it springs free, full of fondness. “That is a good thing. It means we can have more privacy now.”

“Privacy or privacy?”

“Both.”

“I think I need a demonstration.” Lena smirks.

Kara stands and stalks over to her, bracketing her arms against the counter on either side of Lena’s hips. She leans in until her lips just barely brush against Lena’s. “Later, baby. We’ve got to get to CatCo.”

And then she’s gone.

Lena blinks, shocked by how quickly Kara just retreated. She’s definitely going to get her own back at Kara later. If she can feel her legs after Kara’s had her turn anyway.

-

“To all of the wonderful staff here who have worked tirelessly on this case, I thank you.” Cat holds up a champagne flute slightly above her head. “And to Kara Danvers, the lead reporter on this case and our new Editor-in-Chief.”

Kara stares at her in shock, her eyes wide and her mouth open unattractively. “What?”

Cheers surround her, followed by the clinking of plastic champagne flutes and loud slurps. Lena wraps her arms around her waist and gently taps her chin, prompting her to snap her mouth shut. “Congratulations, darling.”

“I’m…what?”

“You’re the new Editor-in-Chief. The contract is on your desk; please sign it by next week, although I would prefer you do it today so you can get it to Tina in HR before she goes on Maternity leave. I wouldn’t say I like her replacement very much. Too many teeth.”

“What does that even mean?” Kara shakes her head. “Wait, why am I being promoted to Editor-in-Chief? There are people here with more experience than me.”

“But nobody with more dignity and integrity,” Cat says with a rare, genuine smile before she hugs her loosely. “Congratulations, Kara. I would offer you Snapper’s old office, but I have a feeling you’d like to keep your own.”

“Well, with all those lovely memories of us keeping each other company in there, how could I leave it behind now?”

Cat almost snarls as Kara brings up their office-sharing sessions. It doesn’t matter how big the office is, she’s never sharing a space with anyone again if she can help it. “I still have nightmares about it.” She turns on her heel and stalks away. This champagne is far too cheap for her. She’s got some nice scotch in her office she can drink instead, and she’s not sharing with anyone.

Lena squeezes Kara tightly from behind. “I’m so happy for you.”

“Lena, I’m the new Editor-in-Chief.”

“I heard.”

“Lena, I’m going to be in charge of a load of people and I’ll get to choose all my own stories.”

“I know.”

“Lena, this is amazing.”

“It’s incredible. You’re incredible.” Lena whispers in her ear moments before Nia comes running over with the world's biggest grin to come and congratulate her.

-

“Have I ever told you that I have a thing for bossy women?” Lena gasps as Kara pins her against the wall just inside their front door.

Kara ignores her for a moment, continuing to ravage her neck until Lena’s fingers curl into her hair just a little too tightly. “What?”

“I like bossy women.” She reiterates.

“I was the least bossy person ever when we met,” Kara argues.

“You were in spirit.” Lena tries to connect their lips, but Kara leans back.

Shaking her head, Kara can’t wrap her mind around Lena’s words. “Did you not like me when I was still just a nervous cub reporter?”

“I loved you,” Lena reassures her. “But I loved it when you stormed into my office every now and again with that air of arrogance I’ve only ever seen a couple of times before. It’s what really solidified my feelings for you.”

Kara groans. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize my appointment was for the Wednesday, not the Tuesday. I thought everyone was just being a bitch and not letting me up to see you.”

“I know. I loved it.”

Kara burrows herself back into Lena’s neck, huffing until she decides to give herself something to take her mind off it. She latches her mouth back onto the sensitive skin of Lena’s neck. “You’re a menace.”

“Thanks, but can I be a menace in the bedroom? This isn’t the most comfortable.”

Kara pulls back and smiles darkly. “I’ll meet you there. I’m going to get us water; we’ll be in there for a while.”

Lena pulls herself together enough to stumble to the bedroom. Kara’s going to be the death of her tonight, and she’s certainly not complaining about it. She gets into the room and doesn’t think twice before she starts pulling off her clothes until they’re all in a heap on the floor, a problem for tomorrow.

She sets herself up on the bed, sitting up against the pillows, her eyes closed and her ears straining to listen out for Kara.

Kara makes her wait, and Lena’s sure she does it on purpose. It doesn’t take long to go into the kitchen and then come upstairs, but the time it takes Kara to do exactly that feels like it drags on for eternity. It’s torturous and she’s sure that Kara knows that.

When she finally slips through the door, she has water bottles balanced in one hand and a bottle of wine with two wine glasses in the other. She sets them all down on the nightstand with a flourish, barely even looking Lena’s way the entire time, a fact that infuriates the ravenette.

Lena clears her throat, but Kara still doesn’t look. “What’s wrong, baby? I’m getting you a glass, don’t worry.”

She clears her throat again, and this time, Kara turns to her, a full glass held out to her, looking her dead in the eyes. That’s nice and all, but she’d really prefer if she’d look at her boobs.

“Thanks.” Lena reaches over and takes it before settling her eyes on the wall. Two can play that game. She takes a long sip of the wine, humming softly. “This is good. Perfect for celebrating.”

Kara nudges her way onto the bed, crawling over Lena until she’s straddling her waist. It’s then that Lena realizes that Kara didn’t bother pouring herself a glass of wine despite bringing herself a glass.

“Are you not having any?”

“I was going to, but why would I do that when there’s something so much tastier right here?”

Lena gasps as Kara grinds her hips down into hers. “You’re going to play dirty, aren’t you?”

“Me?”

“You.” Lena hits her with a pointed stare.

“I’m a perfect angel, I’d never do that. I’m totally not just getting back at you for what you did to me with the crossword puzzle and for trying to make me jealous.”

Lena groans inwardly. It’s one thing for Kara to be in control, it’s another to have Kara be in control when she’s being petty. She’s going to suffer, and god, she’s excited.

“Well then, little miss perfect angel, you look thirsty, why not take a drink?”

Kara eases off her to stand beside the bed. As she slowly reaches behind her to unzip her dress, she smiles playfully over her shoulder. “What’s the rush, baby?”

Lena’s not giving in. “I’m not rushing. Need help with that?”

Kara sits on the edge of the mattress to allow Lena to snatch the zipper of her dress and slowly ease it down. “Thanks.”

Taking another drink of her wine, Lena’s eyes don’t leave Kara as the dress is shrugged off, leaving her in her underwear, which are also quickly discarded. Her eyes are instantly drawn to the scars on her stomach and back, but not because they’re ugly. Of course not. No part of Kara will ever be ugly. No, she stares because they’re just a sign of how hard Kara fought to stay with her, to not give in when death came knocking. She’s here to stay.

“You’re beautiful.”

“Thank you.” Kara’s act drops momentarily as her chin drops to her chest, her skin flushing a light pink that makes her look far too innocent, a stark contrast to the filthy plans she has for them.

Lena pats her bed beside her, expecting her to come and settle next to her. Kara has other plans though. She stalks around to the bottom of the bed before crawling up the mattress slowly, parting Lena’s legs as she goes until she’s got them wrapped around her hips and their faces are level.

“Hi there.”

“Hey.” Lena’s voice comes out raspier than she intends, but Kara’s eyes darken at the sound, and she’s not about to complain about that.

“Take a sip.” Kara urges her.

“Why?”

“Because you’re going to want to be hydrated. We wouldn’t want you to get a dry throat with all the moaning you’re about to do, would we?”

Lena has to suppress a moan at the thought. She downs the rest of the glass and shoves it onto the nightstand beside the bottle before shuffling down further on the bed, letting her head rest against the pillows. “Show me what you’ve got.”

“I will, don’t worry.” Kara seals the promise with the world’s filthiest kiss, all teeth and tongue.

Lying beneath her, Lena just takes it, enjoying every ounce of passion Kara is feeding her and allowing her to taste the wine on her lips and tongue, giving her something to have in mind when comparing her taste against the other wonders of the world.

Kara leaves her breathless before trailing her mouth down her pale skin, the remains of her lip gloss smearing across her chest on the way to her favourite pair of twins, the ones she struggled so hard not to look at earlier, all in the name of teasing. Now, she gets her chance to get properly reacquainted with them.

She licks over one nipple before taking it in her mouth, sucking gently for a moment before switching to the other one, not letting either be neglected for long.

Tangling her hands in Kara’s hair, Lena urges her further down, impatient to feel those lips where she really wants them. The sexual tension in the car from them trying to keep their hands off each other on the way back in the name of safety was enough foreplay for her. This is all just pure torture now.

“Kara, please hurry the fuck up.”

She feels Kara’s lips curl up against her stomach. “Well, that’s not a very nice way to ask for what you want.”

“Kara…” Lena whines.

“But you did say ‘please,’ so I guess I can let it slide.” Kara kisses just below her belly button before she lowers herself down fully, her mouth finding her pussy much quicker than Lena was expecting, forcing her to inhale harshly.

Kara gets right to work, her tongue lashing her clit and her arms stretched up so she can tug her nipples.

Lena’s fingers remain buried in Kara’s hair, not to pull it or direct her, purely to keep her doing what she’s doing, to beg without begging.

Kara hums against her. “Fuck, I was right. You taste a thousand times better than the wine.”

“You never even had a proper taste.” Lena gasps.

“It’s no contest. I don’t have to have a proper sip to know.” Kara brushes her off, eager to stop talking so she can get back to what’s important, namely, Lena’s pussy. She hums happily as she tastes the delicious wetness waiting there for her, and she knows she isn’t about to go easy on her. This isn’t going to be some slow and sensual lovemaking. This is Kara showing Lena who’s boss. This is fucking. Celebratory fucking, but fucking nonetheless.

Lena’s head falls back as fingers make themselves known, gently prodding around until two slip inside her like they were made to be there. Her back arches as Kara starts thrusting them before Lena can even wrap her mind around the fact that she’s being filled.

“Jesus motherfucking Christ.”

“I never knew Jesus had a middle name.” Kara jokes with a grin, annoyed when she peers up to see Lena’s reaction but finds her with her head thrown back and her eyes closed. “Now, now, baby. Let me see those pretty eyes I love so much.”

Lena is unaware of anything other than those fingers pressing inside her so nicely.

“Lena,” Kara says, this time adding a little more weight to her words, the contrast prompting Lena to answer.

“What?”

“Look at me.”

Lena shakes her head.

Kara sighs, slowing her fingers to a stop. “You’re being a little brat tonight. Look me in the eyes or we’re done for the night. I’m not playing games with you tonight. Don’t you want me to have a good time? After all, we are celebrating my promotion.”

Lena whines at the loss of movement and the disappointed pout on her girlfriend’s face. She could handle it if Kara looked mad or annoyed, but she doesn’t. She’s just disappointed and that hurts. Even in the abyss of her overwhelming need for Kara to stop driving her up before stopping for annoying reasons, she needs that look to disappear.

She stares down into Kara’s darkened blues, noting the glisten of her chin where she’s soaked from how needy she is. “Ok, ok.”

“Say please.”

Lena resists the urge to roll her eyes and just force Kara’s mouth back onto her clit. “For fuck’s sake, please. I’m begging.”

“Whatever you want.” Kara grins up at her sweetly. Too sweetly.

Whilst maintaining as much eye contact as Lena can manage, Kara ravages her. Her fingers slam home in time with harsh sucks and nibbles, sending her careering into her first orgasm of the night.

Through it all, she desperately wants to close her eyes, throw her head back, and just feel. That’s not an option though, not tonight. Kara’s eyes are locked so firmly onto hers that it feels like it would be a crime to stop looking at her.

Kara doesn’t stop after the first orgasm; of course she doesn’t. It would be a crime not to give her at least two. She’s earned that much over the course of their endless battle against the bad guys trying to do bad guy things.

“Holy fuck.” Lena is finally forced to look away as a third finger slips in beside the other two slick fingers. “Jesus, Kara.”

“Look at you getting all religious on me.” Kara teases, her voice muffled because she refuses to move away from the wetness that tastes better than even the best-tasting wines. Even the wine good old JC made from water can’t have tasted this good.

By the time her second orgasm has overtaken her, Lena’s relaxed so far into the sheets that she’s sure she’s become one with them and given the fact that she’s just as wet as them, she should probably be thrown in the laundry alongside them.

“No more.”

“You don’t want to come one last time for me, baby?” Kara pouts, her fingers easing out of her pussy as gently as she can so they can ever so tenderly rub against her clit in soothing little circles. “Just one more?”

Lena pants heavily. Her clit feels like it’s on fire, but by god it feels good. A tiny nod and a barely whispered “one more” has Kara refocusing on her fingers as she crawls up the bed to settle beside her, watching her every reaction as Lena lowered slowly over the edge this time, abseiling to her orgasm and taking in the wonderous view as she does so.

Lena cums and she’s pretty damn sure that Kara’s going to be looking smug for at least the next week. “I don’t know if I love you or hate you.”

“I know which one I’d prefer it be.” Kara giggles, wrapping her arms around the brunette firmly, knowing just how much she loves the steadying weight after sex. It grounds her, and Kara’s more than happy to be her anchor.

“I love you.” Lena tilts her head towards Kara, her eyes closed and her lips pouted, ready to receive a kiss she has no doubt is coming.

Kara leaves lingering kisses against her lips before whispering. “You better not go to sleep on me. If you think I’m not turned on after all of that, you’re very wrong.”

Lena lets out an undignified snort. “I’m not going to sleep. I’m trying to remember how to work my legs. Lucky for you though, I still know how to work my tongue. Fancy a ride, Ms Editor-in-Chief?”

“Hell yeah.”

-

Lena traces her fingers over Kara’s arm softly. She lets her nails grace her skin just hard enough to be relaxing but not so soft that it tickles her. She shifts slightly in the fresh bedding, her eyes peering through the dark room, well-adjusted from long minutes of silent staring.

Kara shifts slightly. “Can you pass me some water please?”

Lena hums softly, stopping her fingers so she can turn to the nightstand and grab the single water bottle now sitting there half-empty. “Here.”

Kara takes a large gulp before offering the rest to Lena, who shakes her head softly. “You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“You should drink. I don’t want you to be dehydrated.”

Lena’s eyes fill with tears. She’s already hypersensitive from the night’s activities and the rapid highs and lows of the past few months; this just feels like her tipping point. “I’m ok.”

“Ok, if you need me to get another later, let me know.”

“Marry me.”

“What?”

“Let’s get married.” Lena hadn’t planned for it to go like this. Or for it to happen at all right now. She’s known for years that Kara is her person and the only woman she could ever marry, but this is not the time nor place she imagined she would do this. She’s not taking it back. Not when she’s never felt such conviction with anything she’s ever said in her life.

“Ok.” Kara shrugs.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, but Lena?”

“Hm?”

“You’re going to repropose tomorrow somewhere romantic and never tell anyone you proposed to me in bed after we fucked each other’s brains out.”

“I am.”

“You are.”

“Whatever you say, dear.”

For more fics and exclusive content, check out my Patreon here!

Find out more about a new Supergirl fandom event for writers and artists here!

#supercorp #supergirl #lena luthor #kara danvers #kara x lena #fanfic #cw supergirl #supercorp endgame #supercorp fanfic #supergirl fanfiction #supergirl fanfic #supergirl cw #fanfiction #chaoticsuper

[byrdblood]

First off, I wanted to say that your spooky month oc is very cool and very spooky, I love the design.

Secondly, what’s their relationship to Bob? We see them going to the Grill and Boys restaurant to see Bon and eat burger (which is cute as hell), but how does Bob view them? He seemed “happy” (insane) when he saw them, but they looked a bit like- shocked! So really, what’s the relationship between these two? How do they see each other?

again sorry im like 12 billion years late on all the asks ive got but

so, "keegan" as an entity is actually a tulpa -- that is, basically an imaginary friend that someone believed in so much that it became self-sufficient. they're not really of any world, they just travel freely between them, yoinking some poor fucker's body and occasionally customizing them like a Mii for their short time on our barren earth.

their goal is only entertainment. they have need for very little else.

so, keegan visits this town in the middle of the ass crack of nowhere, solely because they're attuned to the metaphysical (being made of thought-stuff themself) and they can tell this town is Fucking Weird as Hell, AKA prime entertainment opportunity. and in this town, as always, their first priority is "good fucking grub", because they're a hedonist and any second without some material pleasure being experienced is a moment wasted, in their opinion. so they just went around to the shops in their funny little outfit and their funny little body they plucked from a town nearby, and end up in bob's shop, where they very promptly develop a huge crush on this guy because wow, he's fucking humungous, and keegan, being a creature of culture, loves a big fucking man.

and so they keep going back. like, longer than they usually visit any world, which is 2 weeks tops -- they probably visited bob once a week for the course of half a year, at least. just re-visiting the same bookmarked tab, seeing what's changed, reading the new chapter. and keegan is fucking weird as hell, just like, as a person, and if you know anything about living in a small town, it's that there's jack all to do, so the town weirdo sometimes becomes the town's gossip. to bob, keegan was just suddenly there, weirdness galore, and they were nice, and genuinely loved his food (even though the way they chewed it and the glances they gave him made him sweat, sometimes, the percentage of sureness that they knew what was in the meat steadily ticking up each visit), and so bob eventually started looking forward to this freak coming by. on slow days, they'd talk, each of them testing their respective waters. on fast days, keegan would sit in the corner with some sort of notepad, and their aura would get so thick, and for a few precious hours bob felt, inexplicably, like he could do anything in the world. it didn't hurt that keegan tipped heavily, or that they seemed fascinated by the morbid stories he told, prompting him to up the ante each time, unsuccessfully trying to freak them out -- and being pleasantly surprised then their response was to tell him weird stories about human flesh, too. things that no normal person should have known. details about how people reacted to pain, not just "oh, this is how most carcasses are so im going to say that humans are like that too just to try to freak him out."

it made him think, just maybe, that keegan was like him. the signs were there, none quite as huge as the fact that keegan stopped mid-chew on the first "veal" burger he ever sold them, made eye contact through the unnatural darkness of their hood... and then kept eating.

and then bob slipped up with lila and got caught.

3 years down the drain, rotting in a cell, biding his time. for the moment, that weird, entertaining little customer he kinda-sorta-liked was thrown to the back of his mind; he had far bigger concerns and far bigger angers to take out. and, in turn, having lost their favorite plaything in this particular world, keegan's visits slowed. they could tell he wasn't dead, just not where he was, and therefore settled for just checking in once or twice a year, whenever they thought of it. opening the fridge each time you walk by, looking for something that isn't there. maybe he ran away, they thought. maybe he'd realized what they were, and gotten scared. maybe the other god in that town had gotten possessive and stolen him away. (because there was another god, one far older than them but still undeniably smaller, and keegan had been tapdancing on their territory like a schoolyard bully throwing pebbles at the little kid with glasses. as always, they weren't worried about consequences. they just wanted to be entertained.)

that night, bob came after them like they were prey, and for a short time, keegan forgot that they were a god. they were too immersed in the role of the doll they were playing with, too absorbed in the VR, forgetting that their time couldn't be cut short. the natural instincts of their borrowed body screamed at them to avoid the bigger animal, because there's no way for a human body to realize that it has become bigger than it looks to its own eyes. infinite lives, infinite quarters, and yet, for just a moment, the stakes felt so real. keegan ran, and bob gave chase. it had been 3 years, and he was starving.

...but then bob recognized their voice, and suddenly 3 years hadn't passed at all. the fridge was full. the game had resumed, and yet all the rules had changed. there was no more time for them to dance around unspoken rules, two predators bonding over the corpses of smaller things. bob now had the cult to deal with, and he had his suspicions about the thing that lay in wait under keegan's clothes and skin and hair, just as they had their suspicions about the food he fed them and the stories he told. bob was desperate, on borrowed time.

it was time for them to have a talk.

#keegan talks #keegan writes #ask #to answer your question more plainly: keegan is only about as invested in bob as they'd be in flicking through tv shows #their crush died out during his time in prison #but as long as theyre entertained then theyll stay; thats the thing with them #bob on the other hand initially liked them and maybe considered them an interesting target #no contacts no family no nothing #he was just waiting for them to run out of unique dialogue; to become boring #and they never did or else he would have tried to target them sooner #now however he has his suspicions that keegan is powerful #and you know #being under the thumb of another god #keegan could help #maybe he wants them to help #maybe hes too prideful to ask even though he knows hes in over his head #and hes been in over his head for a long long time

[razzamachazz]

( * ) owed inbox / starter :  based off this prompt list / Striker had known, at some point or another, he’d get fed up. and this was that moment. nothing is stopping him from literally breaking the fucker’s jaw, claws itching to do so, actually. he doesn’t even remember necessarily what Chaz had said to set him off this much — they were literally in the middle of running away from enemies because of Chaz’s numerous fuck ups. and what did he do to take accountability? what does the idiot do to, at the very least, fix his own shit? the motherfucker makes a joke and laughs while running. 

that was it; that was the moment Striker lost his shit, and thoughts began racing into his mind. with newfound vigor, after rounding the corner, he drags Chaz by the cuff of his wrist ( after much consideration and ultimately not tripping him so that he was immediately killed by the others ) and, almost like one would with a child, essentially haul him over, making sure to slam the shark’s body with intent against the brick wall. the increasing laughter, as if they’re good friends out on a fun adventure. he’d had it with this moron! “are you fucking kidding me?” he hisses out, almost all intention to remain discreet lost. his forearm is slammed against Chaz’s throat with intention to abruptly cut off his breath and, for once, get him to shut up. to get him to understand the gravity of the situation, of who he’s been trying to fuck around with. “The fuck was that shit back there? Ya nearly had us killed, and think it’s funny?! i shoulda left you to get dismembered by those fucks - i can’t keep cleaning up your mess. frankly, i think i oughta kill you right now!” in a flawless movement with his free hand, he grabs his trusted dagger, digging it just ever so on Chaz’s cheek. any small movement would have the steel cut right through the skin. Crimson be damned, he couldn’t take this piece of shit. he leans it just a bit closer, wanting to see the last few moments of his victim’s eyes before they go lifeless ( that’s his favorite part ) and wanting to make sure Chaz knows he means business, “I’m going to give you five seconds,” which was already longer than he’d given most, “to say what you have to say before i cut your throat open.” just to make things fun, knowing the instructions he just provided, he digs his forearm even deeper into Chaz’s throat, making sure he wouldn’t talk without wheezing.

They were tracking down targets, as per usual, but Striker never shared with him the full extent of the plan—if there ever was one. The hitman had a nasty habit of treating Chaz like he was an inept twit unable to tie his own shoes. The shark learned to ignore it. Just like he ignored Striker’s piss-poor reading comprehension so not to damage his companion’s ego, even though he never returned the favor over Chaz’s shortcomings.

He set out on their mission with powder around his nostrils, pregamed for focus and creative stimulation. It also put him in a good fucking mood. Might be that it made him err on the side of clumsiness too because his literal slip-up and stumble gave away their position. Striker seemed unappreciative of the jokes cracked in attempt to ease the tension during their retreat. By the time they rounded the corner, Chaz was brimming with nervous laughter and giddy excitement. He found the chase invigorating and good for the circulation. 

The world spun when Striker grabbed him, and then all the air dispersed out from his lungs as his back collided against a sturdy brick wall. It made him a little lightheaded but the joviality was still there. Striker’s physical aggression and assertive handling wasn't a surprise. It hardly bothered Chaz anymore. But his broad grin faded to a wisp as he was forced into labored breathing. His arms remained down by his sides, allowing Striker to blow off steam by abusing his windpipe. 

“It was kinda funny,” he rasped out a small strangled laugh. Brows furrowed when he caught sight of glinting metal. With the dagger on him, his humor ceased. His expression turned somber, filled with concern and worry, though Striker might mistake it as another form of fear. Only now did he realized just how far he pushed the cowboy on this one. Striker was always angry—always venting out threats that weren't acted on so Chaz developed a blind trust in his buddy. He wouldn't go overboard in his rage. So when Chaz felt the need to apologize, it wasn't to save his own hide. He felt he needed to apologize because he didn't want to lose those ever-so-rare scraps of comradery the two shared. He wanted Striker to like him. 

Chaz was getting ready to speak but the hybrid cut him off by making him choke. Hands raised out of reflex but stopped short of prying Striker’s arm away. They were held up, palms pointed forward, as a sign of surrender. The shark had him beat in size and strength. He could shove him off if he wanted to.. but he didn't.. because he trusted. “Knock it off already,” he wheezed, “We’re friends, aren't we?”

That made Striker pause. Perplexed him enough to lower the dagger... He snapped out of the trance seconds later and returned to full fury. Steel sank through the shark’s torso, right down to the hilt. There was no anguished scream as Striker may have expected. Only a strained grunt and a wet sound of splitting flesh. The noise echoed louder as the blade was slowly drawn out, spilling blood onto the dirt. Chaz’s fingers were drawn to the wound, soaking them in the liquid—as though further confirmation was needed for him to grasp the reality of the situation.

He stared down at his blood-slicked hand with eyes wide, filled with disbelief and a tinge of sorrow. “Why..?” His gaze redirected towards Striker, who also aired confusion. It wasn't a normal response to a stabbing and it left the hitman’s sadistic appetite dolefully unsatisfied. Chaz tried again to find his voice. “Why would you do that?” The words came out flat—death almost—as he was forced to come to terms with a harsh but undeniable truth. His hopes had been irrational. His starvation for friendship led to unreasonable expectations from a man forced to be his colleague. Outside of business, their partnership had always been empty. Meaningless.

Chaz let his lids fall shut while he took a deep breath, sobering himself up by disaffiliating from his thoughts. It wasn't like they were long-time lovers. He could amputate his sentimentality towards Striker like a gangrenous limb and shut himself off if need be. It would be for the best. What his companion would have wanted—to be left alone and unbothered. When Chaz opened his eyes again, his face was void of emotion. Fatigue was setting in, eating down to his bones. “I'll take it more seriously next time,” his tone sounded detached as he stared dead-eyed at the hybrid. A complete personality flip. "It won't happen again."

#ddyfckr #cw [drugs] #cw [blood] #cw [stabbing] #long post #[surf'n'turf scoundrels | verse]

[nctinthehouse]

8-9PM

PAIRING: fem-grad-student!reader x idol bf!Yuta

GENRE: fluff, suggestive, crack, established relationship!au

WC: 0.8k

⚠️ WARNING(S): suggestive content, language

SERIES MASTERLIST ♡ MAIN MASTERLIST

01.MAY.2022

—

“I don’t think I can eat anymore”, you groan, leaning back on your seat as you massage your stomach in circles. You just finished up the remaining bits of food on your plate before sipping your drink.

You were having dinner with the 127 members at a restaurant. One of the waitresses earlier was acting ever so giddy towards your boyfriend. It made your blood boil, making you want to yank her hair.

Maybe it was because that time of the month is approaching since you were in all sorts of moods today.

‎

‎

‎

It didn’t help seeing how Yuta looked right now, sitting opposite you across the table. He’s dressed in a simple white button-up shirt, but he had the audacity to leave the first 3 buttons open, exposing his chest. His collarbones were visible too.

Seeing your boyfriend like that made you horny.

God, you just wanted to place feathered kisses across his collarbones and chest. You wanted to nip on the skin of his neck, leaving marks to show the waitress who was eyeing up your boyfriend that he’s yours and to go eye up someone else.

As you’re talking to Haechan, a thought popped up.

You were feeling cheeky and decided to wind up your boyfriend a little.

The distance between the opposite person at the table wasn’t that far, so you knew you were able to kick the opposite person’s foot or leg. But kicking your boyfriend’s leg wasn’t what you had in mind.

As you continue talking to Haechan, you intentionally move your hand, “accidentally” dropping the spoon on the table. You pushed your chair slightly to bend down to pick it back up again, but while doing so, you took a quick glance on the opposite side to ensure that Yuta’s legs were in the right place.

Once you turned your attention back to the conversation, you began to make your move.

You moved your foot forward and can feel Yuta’s foot. You needed to be 100% sure, so you kicked his foot slightly and looked at him briefly to catch his reaction. Yuta looks at you, slightly kicking your foot back with a slight smirk on his face while talking to Taeil and Jaehyun, whose sitting on either side of him.

“Let the fun begin,” you thought.

At the same time, while talking to Haechan, you kept sneaking glances at Yuta as you slipped your foot out from your slip-on canvas and began to lightly stroke Yuta’s ankle. He quickly flinched his foot away at the contact and squinted his eyes at you, wondering what you were up to.

You began to stroke his ankle again. This time, your boyfriend didn’t seem to care what you were doing and just kept talking to his members. 

Your foot started to make its way further up his leg until you were about halfway on his inner thighs. Yuta looked at you with a raised eyebrow as you continued to listen to Haechan babbling on about who knows what.

Your foot lingered there for a bit before moving even further up. Your foot was now where it was intended to be before you made your ultimate move. You started to stroke his crotch with your toes, prompting Yuta to let out a mix of a moan and cough. He moved his chair closer to the table as he didn’t want the members to notice a random foot on his lap.

As soon as you saw his reaction, you pressed your lips together and snorted, trying to hold in a laugh.

“It was funny, right?!” Haechan asks.

You hesitated before nodding your head. “Yup!” pretending to agree with Haechan, though you didn’t know what he was talking about. Luckily, it seemed to be the right response.

You started having your fun again, stroking your boyfriend’s crotch several times, all the while he’s slapping your foot away. You could feel him getting hard against your touch.  

Yuta managed to get a tight grip on your foot when beside him, Jaehyun accidentally slammed his hands on the table a bit too harshly while laughing at what Taeil said, making his chopsticks fall to the ground. 

As soon as you hear Jaehyun’s chair scrape against the ground, about to lean down to pick them back up, you quickly retract your leg and sloppily wear your shoe. You internally thanked yourself for wearing easy slip-on shoes.

When the coast is clear, you decide to play around with your boyfriend again.

You started to play around with his foot again. However, you noticed that he didn’t seem to have any expression this time.

“Haechan, stop feeling up my leg,” says Taeil. The whole room falls silent, and all eyes are on the youngest.

As soon as you hear those words from Taeil, you instantly retract your leg back.

You’re not sure how that happened but thank god it was only around the ankle and nothing higher up.

“What the fuck?” says Haechan, looking around the room, puzzled. 

You playfully smack his arm. “Haechan, stop being so weird!” letting out a nervous laugh.

You’ve never seen him look so lost in his life, ever.

taglist: @soobin-chois @uzumakioden @readers-posts

prev ʚ 7-8PM ɞ next ʚ 9-10PM ɞ

SERIES MASTERLIST ♡ MAIN MASTERLIST

© 2022 nctinthehouse — All Rights Reserved.

#ficscafe #neoturtles #klibrary #yuta scenarios #yuta imagines #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct 127 scenarios #yuta timestamps #nakamoto yuta #nct fluff #nct x reader #yuta #yuta x reader #nct 127 imagines #nct 127 #nct #nct u #24hrswytseries

[kingofyewnork]

sprace with 40 prettyprettyplease

gladly!! when i was reading through the prompts, forty immediately jumped out to me as a sprace fic. like no question--glad you feel the same way :D

I imagine this to be pre-relationship. if you saw my post about the sprace love confession, I'd put this around the time where they're more familiar with each other, maybe flirting just a little here and there, but definitely not considering it a real possibility yet.

hope you enjoy and thanks for asking!

40: "Have I entered an alternate universe or did you really just smile at me?"

read it on ao3

----

"How's the king of Brooklyn on this fine evening?"

Spot knows without looking that it's Race behind him. "Racetrack," he acknowledges, slowing a little to let the other boy catch up even though he really doesn't need to. Race is tall, and mostly legs, so he could easily overtake Spot if he wanted to. He never does, though, opting to keep his pace steady and laid-back. It's a sign of respect, and Spot's noticed.

"Spottie," Race shoots back, voice dropping in a joking attempt to imitate Spot's tone. He can hear the cocky grin in Race's voice, the lilt of his words. "You didn't answer my question."

"Don't call me that," Spot responds, mostly out of habit. Race has taken to using the most ridiculous nicknames for Spot in conversation--he's not sure if it's to try and embarrass him or just because Race wants to flaunt how far he can go without getting soaked by the legendary Spot Conlon. He knows it should get on his nerves, would if it were coming from any other newsie, especially one outside of his turf, but it's different with Race. Maybe because Spot knows that it's not meant as a jab or underhanded insult; this is just how Race is.

"Still not an answer," Race says, now walking beside Spot with his hands stuffed in his pockets, matching Spot's steps with long, easy strides.

"You know I can kick you right back over the Brooklyn Bridge if I wanted to, right?"

"Oh yeah?" Race's grin spreads. It's infuriatingly bright. Spot can't stop sneaking glances out of the corner of his eye, and he bites the inside of his cheek. Stupid Race and his stupidly pretty face are going to be the death of him.

"Yeah," Spot tells him, pointedly keeping his gaze forward more to keep himself in line than for Race to see.

"Well, I guess you could," Race muses in a thoughtful voice. "But you wouldn't."

Spot can tell that Race is waiting for him to ask why. He takes the bait anyway. "And why is that?"

"For one," Race says, speeding up a little and pivoting smoothly on his heel so that he's now walking backwards, facing Spot with that cocky asshole smile on his face, the one that Spot thinks about at night sometimes before he falls asleep. "You would miss my excellent sense of humor."

Spot snorts. Race continues, taking his cigar out of his mouth and tapping a finger against his chin in a show of thoughtfulness. "Seriously, have you ever laughed ever? If you're this stone-cold when I'm around, I'm not sure I wanna know what you were like before we met." He cracks a wolfish grin at Spot. "Bet it was a nightmare for your boys. They'd say, ''Spot, why'd the chicken cross the road?' and you'd say, 'Shut your trap or I'll shut it for ya.'"

Spot rolls his eyes, but he can't help it when the corners of his mouth quirk up just a bit at Race's attempt at imitating him. It's stupid, but funny-stupid.

Race stops suddenly, and Spot nearly walks right into him. "Oh--what the hell, Racer?" Once he regains his balance he looks up at Race accusing.

The other boy is staring at him with an expression of amazement, eyebrows raised in disbelief.

"What?" asks Spot warily. Did he do something? He'd just been walking, and Race'd been rattling off like he always does, and--

"Have I entered an alternate universe or did you really just smile at me?"

Oh. Spot rolls his eyes again, harder, hoping the extra effort is visible. Race just sticks his cigar into his grinning mouth and slings one lanky arm around Spot's shoulders. "I knew you loved me, Spottie," he announces, leaning into Spot. Spot doesn't pull away. He should, but he doesn't. "I told everyone, I says to them, 'Spot's not scary! He's a real softie once you get to know him.' And whaddya know?"

Spot sighs, but even he can hear the undercurrent of fondness in the sound.

He's so screwed.

#kaelen writes #sprace #drabble #spot conlon #newsies #racetrack #racetrack higgins #prompt

[cellarfulofnose]

The Man In Me

Prompt #25. Don't you know I mean boys?

Ringo furrows his brow. "What d'you mean, 'like a man'?" There's no hint of judgment. He's genuinely curious.

"Like..." Paul makes an empty gesture, searching for words that aren't there. The scotch is getting to him now, making everything a little more fuzzy and warm. Usually it loosens his tongue, makes it easier to talk. That's how he ended up here, with a hand on Ringo's shoulder, asking a question like that. Any other day, he wouldn't dare, not even in private, never mind in the middle of a swinging party. But it had just sort of slipped out.

Words continue to spill out of his mouth even now, bereft of meaning. "You know. Like you."

Ringo blinks in pleasant surprise. He doesn't let the compliment shine on his face for long. "Never really gave it a lot of thought, bein' honest," he shrugs.

"Well, think about it," Paul hears himself say, and he's distantly aware that the fence that usually separates his thoughts from his words has been knocked down. He gets a little thrill from pushing the envelope, a rush that heats his cheeks and chest. (He's drunk.)

Effortful thought crosses Ringo's face as he tries to oblige. He's drunk too, probably more so, and frowning like a mathematician.

Paul cracks a huge grin. "C'mon," he teases. His stomach tickles with the promise of a laugh.

Ringo gives him a hard look, a slight crease in his brow suggesting he resents being laughed at, but he breaks into a smile, too. "There's only one thing for it," he says, raising a finger from his glass. "This way."

"Where--" Paul starts to say, but Ringo's weaving through the crowd, much faster than he should be able to with the quantity of alcohol that's in him. Almost too fast for Paul to keep up. He catches a break when Ringo pauses to exchange words with a woman, who pulls something out of her bouffant and hands it to him. Ringo thanks her and glances back at Paul with a jerk of his head; Come on.

Paul trails behind him, dodging trays of drinks and people he'd rather not speak to, until they reach the edge of the crowd. Ringo slips into the second door down the corridor, and Paul follows blindly behind.

It's a small guest room, nothing fancy, but the sudden quiet and isolation make him feel twice as pissed. With no raucous din to latch onto, the room starts to sway. Jesus. Paul spreads his hands, ready to catch himself if he should tip over.

Then Ringo shuts the door behind them, and Paul remembers with a hot spike of adrenaline what they were just talking about. All right, then. He's brought him here to...what, exactly? Explain the proper technique where their conversation won't be drowned out? (Or overheard, more importantly; though for some reason, Ringo doesn't seem as committed to secrecy as Paul.)

Ringo sits on the floor with his back to the bed, and Paul copies him. The scotch is really getting to his head now. As well as all-over giddiness, he feels it gently loosening his inhibitions, muddling what's okay and what's not. He'd worry, normally, about getting this comfortable where that was concerned, but, well, the scotch takes care of that too.

In the scant light, Paul can make out what the woman handed to Ringo. It's a hairpin, the kind that's straight on one side and wavy on the other. Paul's about to ask what he wanted it for when Ringo snaps it in half, and Paul coos in surprise. It's only matchstick-thin, he supposes, but still.

Ringo sets down his drink and turns to Paul. Once he's caught his eye, he taps a finger to the side of his nose and points sternly, like a professor. "Watch and learn."

Paul laughs lightly. He's not sure what he's about to do, but it's silly, and everything he does is a little bit funny because it's Ringo, so all right, he'll watch.

And watch he does, as Ringo takes one half-pin in each hand and pokes them into his nostrils, delicate as anything.

Paul's heart splashes into his stomach. If he weren't so tipsy, he might gasp.

Ringo blinks at the ceiling, moving his twin tools in a gentle swirl. His lips part, probably in concentration at first, but then his nostrils flare once and he pants out a soft breath. Already, there's a pink tinge settling into the skin (Dear God, Paul thinks, feeling a scarlet blush color his own cheeks), which somehow makes his nose look bigger. If that was possible. God, but it's huge, isn't it, now that Paul's looking at him in heart-stopping profile. Not as hookish as John's downward slope, not aquiline, but proud and strong, with a bump in it. It balances his features perfectly, his large eyes and big lips.

Then his nostrils flare again, another shallow huff of breath, and Paul's completely rapt. Ringo keeps moving the pins in little circles as his lashes flutter in a syrupy haze. He's definitely stirred up something. His eyebrows climb curiously, then worriedly, and his nose twitches. A wrinkle forms on the bridge. It looks like it tickles something fierce, and Paul almost fucking says that, but it's some kind of reverent awe that keeps him speechless. Ringo's working in machine-perfect rhythm even now, too precise for guesswork: he's done this before. Paul gulps.

Ringo shuts his eyes tight. Paul thinks his breath might stutter a little on the exhale, too, but the whole ordeal is so beautifully unhurried. With John, there's always this desperate urgency--with him, too, when he lets himself be subjected to it--respectively, to sneeze and not to sneeze (that IS the question, Paul thinks, and almost risks a laugh). It's delightfully masculine, a good reminder why he'd asked Ringo about this in the first place.

Then Ringo heaves a deep gasp, and his nostrils flare wide enough to make Paul's eyes water. "Here she comes," he manages in a thin and wavering voice, and that throws Paul for a loop so badly that he has no time to prepare himself for what comes next. Taking a final, rushing swig of air, Ringo pulls out the half-pins and tucks a single jeweled finger under his nose.

"aah'rRRUhSHHOO!"

It throws him forward over his lap and shakes his shoulders, like a real feat of effort. He straightens slowly, rubbing at his nose, giving one rough sniff.

"Blessya. Bloody hell." The spell keeping Paul mute seems to have broken. He's practically ready to giggle now. God, what a sneeze. Deep and rich and satisfying-sounding. That's something else he's noticed and envied--Ringo tends to sneeze one-at-a-time, and now Paul is starting to realize that just one is enough to clear out everything that's bothering him on the first try. Saints preserve us, he thinks.

Ringo nods his thanks. He looks rheumy, maybe a little swollen, but his expression is all cool confidence. Even as he wrinkles his nose and scrunches it around in a circle, as if to work out a lingering tickle, he's calm, nonchalant. He doesn't care.

Teach me, thinks Paul.

Ringo blinks away the haze until he can look Paul straight in the eye and asks, "Were you paying attention?"

Paul smiles, doll-faced, innocent as a rose. "Mm-hmm," he nods, trying very hard not to laugh.

"Main thing is to sort of..." Ringo gestures in the air, bringing a hand tentatively to his face to visualize the steps Paul can take. "...not clench yer teeth, I s'pose."

"Oh, you think so?" Paul is having far too much fun with this. He's about to ask exactly why it is that he shouldn't clench his teeth when Ringo hands over the broken pin. Paul looks down at the two halves of it, then back up to Ringo, and his heart misses a beat. "You, you want me t--?"

Ringo nods. "Yeah, go on. It doesn't hurt," he adds earnestly, misinterpreting Paul's anguish as fear of discomfort.

Paul has no choice but to accept the broken halves (one of them's wet, he realizes with a flip of his stomach, and almost chokes). With a deep breath, he raises them to his nose, but something stops him. He hesitates. Even piss-drunk, he can't bring himself to just do that like it's nothing. He starts babbling, hoping to stall. "So, you-- basically, I just..."

"Just stick 'em in and move 'em around a bit," Ringo supplies helpfully. "You've got to sort of find the spot. You'll know it when you've got it, you'll feel it. It'll make your eyes water."

That does it for Paul. A heady surge of arousal switches off his brain and moves him to stick both halves up his nose without further protest. He brushes them, good and quick and light, against the spot he knows will tickle up a sneeze. At least one.

He's cringing before he knows it, squeezing his eyes shut tight as an itch surges all the way to the back of his skull. It's a right sight more intrusive than a feather, this broken pin, and it's already got his throat catching, trying to cough it out. "God--" he sputters, still moving the pieces in itchy little circles, making everything worse.

"Found it?" asks Ringo, and he sounds so pleased that Paul gives a happy little hum.

"Yeah-- hh! ah..." He starts to answer, but the itch begins to burn and ache and snatch his breath away. He's going to sneeze, soon. It's going to be big.

It feels a little more out of his control than usual; maybe because he's soused, or maybe because the hairpin is such a cruel instrument. Maybe because he's going after both nostrils at once. Don't clench your teeth, he thinks as his breath builds and he barrels toward a release.

"ah! -ah...! aAHT'SHHOO!"

He barely has the wherewithal to yank away the half-pins before he buckles forward into his sleeve, with what might well be the loudest sneeze he's ever let out. It just sort of tears out of him, too strong and fast to do anything about it. It's not masculine, of course; not even in the same postcode, much as he tried to shape his voice to sound like Ringo. Just harsh, barking.

Sort of like John, really.

He raises his head meekly, hoping Ringo mistakes his fiery blush for drunken ruddiness. Thank God there was only one. (He wonders, with a warm flutter of arousal, if that's because this new, harsher style is better at clearing a tickle out of his head.)

"There you go. I'n't it great?" Ringo says, and takes a swallow of his drink. "You've almost got it. Just need to loosen up a bit."

Oh, sure. As if it were the easiest and most obvious thing in the world. "What d'you..." Paul starts to ask, but he knows he can't say mean without sounding like he's got cotton wool up his nose.

Ringo raises his eyebrows, and it pierces--it's not disappointed, per se, not quite, but there's a teacherly air of, Really? I did expect better from you, Mr. McCartney. "Need to see it again?" he asks, almost this side of teasing.

Paul tries not to grin like a Cheshire cat, and fails. "I thig'k I do, yeah." He sounds as stuffed-up as he feels, but this time he couldn't give a shit. His whole body is buzzing electric. Scotch has nothing to do with it.

Ringo pretends a long-suffering sigh and takes the broken pin back. "Mind this time, all right?" he says, settling back into position, both pieces at the ready.

Paul gives a sharp nod. "Yessir," he chirps, as a naughty but repentant schoolboy. He edges a knuckle against his nose and sniffles.

With one half-pin between his fingers like a cigarette, Ringo tosses back the rest of his drink, swallows, and goes straight to work. Tiny movements, precise but smooth. God, it's hypnotic, watching his nose twitch and redden, watching his eyes gradually lose focus and then snap shut.

He hits something then that makes his jaw drop open with a pained little scoff, like he's shocked or struck, and Paul's stomach does a loop-the-loop. He wants to say something--something he'll regret, no doubt, but the possibility of breaking Ringo's concentration keeps him quiet.

Ringo's panting softly now, light skipping breaths that only tease at release. His eyes blink open, and Paul is suddenly caught by how miserable his drooping lids look when he's open-mouthed on the edge like this. It's sickeningly sad and sexy, and it's starting to make Paul's nose itch by proxy.

One of Ringo's hands leaves his face to hold up a finger, waiting or warning. With the other, he dives further, his fingertips against his nostril now, twitching the pin even faster. He's impatient for it. It seems to have done the trick--his face screws up in irritation, and his lungs fill with a real gasp. (Paul echoes him with a tiny gasp of his own, unable to contain his anticipation.) As his head tips back, Ringo grasps at his breast pocket, but comes away with nothing. He frantically reaches back, closing his fingers around his pocket square on the second try, just as he can't inhale any more.

"--hh'rRRSCHHhuh!"

Ringo catches a stormy sneeze in his pocket square, clutched in one fist. Paul jumps. Some combination of the suddenness and volume. He feels like an idiot for startling, and downright mortified that it's enough to get him half-hard. They're just so...big.

Bleeding Christ, man. Pull yourself together. Paul clears his throat. "Gesundheit," he offers, because it feels less intimate than Bless you, but as soon as it rolls off his tongue he wishes he could swallow it. It's worse, somehow. He's blushing double now, arousal and hot shame. He wants another drink.

Ringo shakes his head with a little Whew, but he returns Paul's serve easily. "Danke." Paul thinks of Hamburg as Ringo blows his nose once, gently, and swipes a few passes under it with the crumpled-up square.

"Right, yeah." Paul looks at his lap, working his mouth to stop from smiling. "Think I've got it."

Ringo moves but doesn't say anything. After a moment, Paul turns to find him silently holding out both half-pins.

Prove it.

"Ah," Paul says, half-laughs, eyeing the tools as if they're loaded. "Not sure if I can, uh. Not sure it'll work a second time, honestly." He presses his lips into an apologetic half-smile, and he knows it's lousy acting, but he can't do a thing about it. "Lost the..." He gestures vaguely to his nose and immediately clasps both hands in his lap. "...sensitivity. You know."

Ringo shrugs. "I'll do it." He cups his hand. The space between his thumb and fingers is the same shape as Paul's jaw.

"Um." Mary and Joseph, thinks Paul. Compliance is unfathomable. Resistance, impossible. "D--" He starts to say Don't hurt me, but that dies as soon as it surfaces. God, how pathetic. He's not a Russian princess facing the firing squad, for God's sake, he's a man and he can prove it and it's only a bloody hairpin, Christ alive. In a fit of confidence, he rests his chin in Ringo's outstretched hand and tries to look calm.

Ringo starts seamlessly, not even giving Paul a moment to dread it. Paul winces immediately at the coldness of the metal (the wetness, he realizes a heartbeat later, and almost combusts). It's not so bad in just one nostril, though. It still tickles, but not in an overpowering sort of way, as before. Paul frowns a little when Ringo grazes the right spot, but even as his face stiffens, he feels himself relax a bit. The tickle is something he can focus on, something to distract him from the situation that's causing it, and what that means for him and Ringo. More importantly, what it means for him and J--

"...hah."

Paul's mind empties of thought when his breath stutters, and he can't help but let out a small hum of surprise and discomfort. It really tickles, enough to send tears streaming down his left cheek, but not enough to coax out a sneeze. He wriggles his head back and forth the tiniest bit, trying to jostle the pin enough to tease something out, but it just makes his nose sear with pain, a stinging itch, and he swallows a cry of complaint. He wants to touch his nose, to rub his nostril until it goes away. If he could even press above his lip, that would lessen the pressure some, but not with Ringo's hand there. And besides, he can't risk preventing a sneeze, not when he needs one this badly. His whole head feels as if it'll burst. He gasps--then sighs it out just as quickly. Then again, false promise after false promise. It's not enough.

As though reading his thoughts, Ringo lets go of Paul's face and adds the other pin, working both sides now.

"Ohh, fuck...hh-- ah...!" Paul doesn't mean to, but it's too much. It tickles enough to make him cry--he is crying, or both his eyes are spilling over with tears, at least.

"Just relax," says Ringo, keeping perfect rhythm as usual. "Don't hold your breath. Don't close your mouth."

"Oh...okay--hah!" Paul tries with every cell in his body not to tighten his stomach, his usual abortive effort to keep from inhaling too much, and gives over to the whims of the tide. He's heaving huge, unhurried breaths, and each one feels like it's going to take him to the brink. He isn't going to make it. It's going to shake him apart like a house of cards. He's got to...He's going to--

Paul launches forward with a violent rolling thunderclap of a sneeze.

"hAH'RrSSCHhuhh!"

He straightens with the back of his sleeve still pushed up against his nose. Ringo claps him on the back with a cheer that he can't hear because he did it, he actually did it. He laughs sheepishly, which he pays for with a running nose. He snuffles into his sleeve, dragging his nose against the fabric. That wasn't so bad. No, hell, it was brilliant. It was worlds more satisfying than his girlish usual, and it felt great to let it roar out of him, like the first time he'd pulled off a Little Richard scream in front of a crowd. It's starting to get him pretty riled up. But that's all right, really; they're done. They can get back to the party and never breathe a word of this to anyone.

Ringo slings his arm around Paul's shoulders and has just launched into For He's a Jolly Good Fellow when the door swings open.

"The fuck are you two doing?" says John, a mostly-empty glass of wine in his hand.

Paul gasps so quick and sharp that he chokes on the drip at the back of his throat and gives a coughing fit as an answer.

Ringo spares him a quick glance of concern, then takes the reins. "Trying to change the sound of his sneeze," he explains, to Paul's abject horror, with the same humorous warmth he'd use for any drunken foolishness; Oh, he's crying because his laces came untied. He proposed to a potted plant and then fell asleep in it, you know how he gets.

John's eyes flick over to Paul. "Were you now."

Paul feels time slow to a stop. The ice and flame of fear and embarrassment lick at his skin.

"Wanted to sound more like a man," Ringo adds oh-so-helpfully, and Paul seriously considers slapping both hands over his big, full-lipped mouth. But it's too late.

John scoffs, a mirthless smile lifting the corners of his mouth. "Right. Well. Wouldn't want to interrupt that, would we?" He starts to retreat.

Shit. Paul springs to his feet and only wobbles for a moment. "Are you leavin'?" he manages before John can get the door all the way closed.

John shoots a withering glare at him, then into the dark room where Ringo still sits slumped against the bed. "Yeah, I am. Bloody party's not up to snuff anyway." His gaze snaps back to Paul, and it bites, just like it was meant to. Like no one else can.

You're not being fair, Paul wants to shout. It wasn't like that and you know it. But his non-reactive instinct is stronger, so he just blinks, raises his eyebrows, and says, "Night, then."

John looks angrier for that, as he does any time someone won't escalate a fight with him. Frustrated energy. It's a dangerous dance Paul's doing; that energy's got to come out somehow, and it often bleeds.

But John doesn't hit anybody. He smiles and raises his glass to his lips. "Salud." He drinks with his eyes open, watching out for Paul's reaction. Paul doesn't give him one, so he wipes his mouth and leaves.

As soon as John turns around, Paul fixes his eyes on the ceiling and draws a controlled breath, willing himself not to get hysterical, wrestling his expression under control before he can turn back to Ringo. He swallows, sets his jaw, and swivels back around, blinking. A smile finds its way onto his face, and he hopes he just looks drunk, not torn open.

Ringo might not be clued in, but he's not stupid. He rises to his feet with a sober expression. "Don't suppose he thought we were up to anything uncouth," he says slowly, so smoothly it's almost a comfort.

Paul's stomach turns, not in a good way, and the taste of scotch is rotten and scurvy on his tongue. But he laughs automatically. "I don't think even he's that blind, mate. Top up?" he adds, because Ringo's glass is empty and he needs them to get the hell out of here.

Ringo raises his empty glass. "Lead on."

Paul does throw up that night, but that has less to do with the fight and more to do with the six more drinks he has after that, until he can't tell Ringo from Adam from the tailpipe of his Aston Martin.

The next day, they're not due in the studio until three in the afternoon, but Paul still staggers in at a few minutes to four with a blinding headache and a bad case of the shakes. It's not unbearable--they stick him in a booth to record his bass lines, and Ringo brings him a handful of aspirin in the first few hours--but it is painful.

John's there. Paul hardly notices until it's almost time to leave. He can scarcely see, and he's been spending his energy on playing the right notes without passing out from the pain in his head and gut. But as he relocates from the recording booth to the piano, they share a moment of eye contact. John looks away first, and Paul can't bring himself to try and bridge that gap. They don't speak.

The next day, Paul's back to full health. Ringo and George have nothing to record that day. John is two hours late. When Paul jokes that he thought he would be alone in the studio, John huffs that Paul was late yesterday, so he can fuck off.

Paul laughs. "All right, Jesus, I was only joking--"

"Yeah, well, that's not what they fucking pay you for, is it?" John plugs in his guitar.

Paul takes his hands off the piano keys. "Do you have a problem with me?"

"Yeah, you're fucking yappin' and you should be singin', Lassie." John puts on his headphones and flips the switch on the tape. His opening chord screams out, grating on Paul's ears. He plays perfectly that day. Paul keeps messing up. John leaves as soon as he's done, before they can talk again.

After that, they've a week off while George Martin is abroad. Paul phones John first thing in the morning, expecting no answer, but Cynthia picks up. She's on her way out to visit a sick relative, but she can pass a message to John, if Paul likes. Paul politely says no and wishes a speedy recovery to her mum or her aunt or whoever it was. He hangs up and sits around waiting.

Paul forces himself to wait until after one o'clock to head over to John's, so as to be absolutely sure he's awake. When he opens the door, John is watching Julian play on the rug in the living room. It's Paul's saving grace: he eases into playing with Julian without a word from John, and when John scoops him up to put him down for a nap, it's a gentle trade-off with no signs of hostility. Paul's almost let his guard down when John shuts the nursery door and pads back into the living room.

Paul stuffs his hands in his pockets and takes a deep breath. "So, are we past all that, then?"

"Oh, aye. 'S it true, by the way, the bigger the nose, the bigger the cock?" John doesn't blink. He looks like he's talking to the press, or to a girl he despises, venom dripping.

"Oh, fuck off with that, John, you know it wasn't--"

John oohs in mock surprise. "Now you sound like a man. Not as if I'd fucking know, though, would I? Didn't ask me."

"Look." Paul takes two steps toward John before he remembers there's a baby sleeping in the next room. He lowers his voice. "I don't know--I don't care what you think we did, and we didn't fucking--it was his idea--"

John barks out a laugh. "That's likely."

"...but it's obviously upset you, so whatever I have to do, just..." Paul lets out a huffing sigh. He can't do this. It's so unbelievably stupid. "I..." He presses his lips thin and looks at the carpet.

"You what?" John's a step closer now. "Weren't being this quiet in that bedroom, come on. Out with it."

"I don't fucking like what I sound like, when I...all right?" Paul's face is burning hot. He rubs his palms against his trouser leg. "I didn't want to ask you, because I didn't want t--"

"Show me."

Paul looks up. "What?"

John's stone-faced, arms crossed. "Show me what he taught you."

For a second, it doesn't process. Just sound. Then it hits him in the chest, warming, tingling, enough to make him sweat. Okay. Fuck. "All right." He swallows. "Yeah."

John softens. "Yeah?"

Paul nods, and his head spins. There's no way this can be happening. But he's going to do as John asks until the bubble bursts. "But, uh..." He lowers his voice to a whisper. "J-Julian...?"

"Upstairs," John says, sounding a little breathless, and breezes past Paul to the stairway. "Wild horses wouldn't wake him up, though. He'd sleep through the Blitz, would Jules," he adds over his shoulder as Paul follows, taking the stairs two at a time.

"We did," Paul pants.

"Speak for yourself." John ducks into the music room at the top of the stairs, with Paul close behind. "I cried all night. So they tell me."

Paul shuts the door, and a quiet settles over them. For a moment, they just stand there panting.

"You, uh." Paul bites his thumb and rests his other hand on his hip. "D'you have anything?"

"Here." John goes rifling through a drawer and emerges with a little tin box.

Oh, fuck.

Paul raises his eyebrows once. He's cool. He doesn't care. He reaches for the box with a hand that's definitely not shaking.

John draws it back. "Fat bloody chance. I'm doin' it."

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Paul forces himself to speak. "And this..." He clears his throat. "And this'll make it up to you."

John gives a small smile. "Cross me heart."

God, he's not going to survive this. Paul plants his feet apart and raises his chin, trying to at least look the part. "G'on, then." Like a man.

John flips the lid of the box and scoops a dab of brown powder onto the tip of his middle finger. He pushes it against Paul's left nostril, then his right, as Paul sniffs, clumsy and choppy, not quite getting all of it. It's not like coke; he's only done this once before, and it was...catastrophic. There's a reason they stopped using it on him.

Paul gives a half-choked sound straight away as his hand flies to his nose. It burns like fury, and he rubs it hard against the back of his hand, trying to dull the keen, scorching itch. His eyes brim with tears. It itches too much to sneeze, more a pain than an itch.

Until that's suddenly not the case. Until it tickles all the way down his throat into his lungs, and he's seizing with a desperate gasp before he can ready himself. It tips over into a sneeze so quickly, he can't think, he can't help it--he presses a fist over his mouth.

"--'NcgHt! -hh..."

"You're not serious," John drawls, audibly smiling.

"So-Sorryhh...ah'h...!" Paul rubs hard under his nose with the back of his finger, trying as hard as he can to temper the next one before it comes bursting out of him. He's so flushed with humiliation, he can barely think. The only voice in his head is Ringo's. Don't hold your breath. Don't clench your teeth.

It's building, making him gasp again. He doesn't fight it. He lets them sweep through him, great big cleansing gulps of air, making him dizzy.

Just relax.

He tries not to tighten his throat, and for that, his voice starts to bleed through.

"huh-! ahh-hh...ahh'h, heh--!"

Like a man, Paul thinks, and snaps in half with his hands cupped in front of his mouth.

"aAH'RRSSHhuh! AAH'DzSCHahh!"

"Bloody fucking Chr--" John starts to say, but Paul's not done. Not nearly.

"hh'RRSCHuhh! --'RzSCHhh!" Paul rocks a step forward with the force of that last sneeze, still bent double. The snuff's fucking killing him. He wants to sneeze until he's totally empty, and never mind the sound, but he can't get a breath big enough to clear him out. They start coming out in little bursts, weaker and weaker, until they're too small to knock over a sheet of paper.

"hh'Rsch! --rrschew! -ht'schuh! -'ttschhuh! ahT'ch! -'tSch!"

Paul gulps for a shaky breath of air, but it snags, readying to rush out of his lungs. Please, not again, he prays, clamping a hand over his streaming nose. I can't breathe if I keep sneezing. I can't...

"hpt'sch!" He doesn't lose any breath from that, but holding it in provokes a volley of would-be sneezes that shudder through Paul as he tries to swallow them. "ht'sch! 'ttch! -ht'tcht! --ngtch! h'ngt!"

"Hey." John's hand is on his back. "You all right?" His voice is soft and low. Worried.

"I cahhn't...hdt'jsh! Cand't stop--aAHt'SCHhew!" Speaking is a costly mistake. Paul can't hope to hold them in now, no matter how hard he pinches his nose. "haht'CHIEW!" It forces the breath out of his chest. He wants to cough, he wants to run, but he can't stop sneezing like a mouse. "aHdt'chiew!"

"Jesus Christ." Something soft presses into Paul's hand, shoving it gently away from his nose. A piece of cloth. "Here. It's okay. You can stop."

Paul clutches the fabric to his face and twists away from John. He takes a few blind steps before doubling over with a muffled "hh'mmphshh!" and blows his nose fiercely, giving no thought to the pressure that pounds in his forehead.

"That's it. Get it out." John's voice is soft, like he's talking to a scared horse, and Paul hates it, he hates being watched and pitied like this, but trying to clear his sinuses sets off a spasm of coughing, so all he can do is press the cloth to his mouth and nose as he fights for breath.

Paul swallows thickly and manages to stem the coughing. He blows his nose again and sees white spots dance in his vision, feels the pressure spike behind his eyes. He wants to sneeze; big or small, he doesn't care, anything to scour out the residual itch, but he knows he won't. The snuff has had its fun with him. He gives his nose a good rub with the now-damp cloth, and it helps for a second.

Fuck snuff. He's never doing this again.

As the worst of the irritation smooths over, heat rushes to Paul's face for a different reason. It was a colossal failure, this little examination, if he was trying to prove he could sound like a man. And what a show he'd put on for John, so dire and dramatic he'd had to ask if Paul was all right, fucking hell. Probably thought he was going anaphylactic or something.

Paul physically winces at the idea that John might tell him to do it again. Do it until he can get it right. Until they run out of snuff or Paul chokes to death, whichever comes first.

Cute.

It's over if Paul hears that word. As if it's not enough that he has to hear it from the press, from girls, from fans, grown men, and strangers; if John utters that word, he'll leave. Truly.

"That was terrible," Paul quickly says before John can confirm his worst fears. He turns back to face him, shaking his head, wearing a tight, mortified smile. I already know. Please don't say it.

John's lips are thin, working against a smile. "I liked it."

Paul rolls his eyes and looks to the side, biting back a grin. "You fucki'g liar."

"No, I mean it. It was nice, seeing you suffer."

Paul laughs, which makes him cough. "Piss off."

"I'm joking." There's a creak of furniture springs as John sinks into an armchair. "You had it, though, for...a second."

Paul sniffles and sits down, still not looking at him. He shrugs. "Guess I should've paid better attentiond." He picks at a loose thread in the love seat and sniffles again.

John's quiet. Then he says, "Bless you, by the way. 'Bout an hundred times."

Paul chuckles, and it comes out like a snort. He swipes the cloth under his nose a few times. "Ta."

"Bloody awful stuff, isn't it?"

Paul laughs again. "It's so bad." He wipes his eyes with the heels of his hands and turns to look at John.

"Admit it," says John, "I'm a saint, puttin' up with that shite." He's smirking, but his lips are pulled tight, and his eyes are too carefully lidded. Blushing, too. He's nervous.

"Or a masochist," says Paul. His voice has cleared some. There's still a heavy scratch in it, like the second day of a bad cold, but at least his m's and n's are back to normal.

"Ho-ho." John waggles his eyebrows suggestively. "What's that make you, then?"

Paul takes a deep breath and tries not to look away. "Sorry."

John's the one who breaks their gaze, blinking and shaking his head with an It's-nothing expression. "'S okay."

"You don't sound...less masculine." Paul's not sure why he can't stop talking. He's dead sober now. Maybe he can blame it on the nicotine in the snuff.

John scoffs. "I kn-- I really couldn't give a..."

"Just a bit loud is all, so." Paul presses his lips tightly shut.

John stares at him, bewildered. "And that wasn't?!"

"I didn't-- I said I was I sorry!" Paul holds up his hands in surrender, smiling broadly with the knowledge that they're sort of arguing for the hell of it now. Passing a ball back and forth, sparring.

"Well, say it again," John huffs.

"I'm sorry."

John looks at Paul like he wants to say Good, or You'd better be, but instead he leans back, crosses his legs, and says "Dismissed," military-style, with a wave of his hand.

Paul doesn't go. "I won't--I don't want to do that with anyone else."

John raises his eyebrows, then looks down. "Yeah. Me too."

Downstairs, Julian starts to howl and screech.

John lets his head loll back, mock-exasperated, as Paul laughs. "You couldn't have been any louder?" John asks, pushing himself off the armchair with a wicked smile.

"Oh, get bent--"

"Rattlin' the bloody rafters, you were..."

They continue bickering all the way down the stairs to Julian's room. That night at the party is never brought up again.

At least, not by Paul and John. But someone must have told.

Weeks later, when George and John are at his place, tripping across the solar system and back, George casually leans in and asks John,

"Can you teach me how to hold in a sneeze?"

[mad-maximoff]

At Last

Summary: You and Wanda are undercover out of the country not in good speaking terms but you make her start talking

Warnings: Language, Marijuana use, talks about trauma, wlw sex, oral (receiving), super soldier reader

Word Count: 4,034

(SO I didn’t know Sokovia wasn’t a real place😂😂 So I used Romaian and Russian words when Wanda and reader is talking)

The rain was coming down hard in Japan. It was fall, it was prettier here than in Brooklyn. The Japanese scenery made fall feel so elegant. Yet, in your undercover apartment, Wanda and you lived in an environment that wasn't too friendly. After Wanda held or should I say played the game with Westview, the entire country wanted her head on a platter. All the government officials held her accountable. She lived in the mountains for a bit until S.H.E.I.L.D raided her house to take her back to the states. You were a mercenary working odd jobs. Sometimes you work for the good guys, most of the time you worked for the bad. Your ‘origin’ story was a dark mess and you never spoke about it. You just hid it under the rug, telling people you were born as a super soldier. No one believed you, however, though no one wanted to ask for the reason they didn't want to get hurt or killed. Super soldiers weren't born. They are made. How you were made was a sad story that inflicts you trauma that still haunts you to this day. You can never change what happened but you can make the best of it. That's how you got on to Director Fury's radar. You were taken in by S.H.E.I.L.D after you were hired by Zemo to do some assassinations. The director gave you two options. Either help go undercover with Wanda Maximoff or they hand you over to the American government where they hide you in a CIA wet cell. You chose the easiest option.

You sat on the windowsill leaving a crack of the window open. You looked from the corner of your eye seeing Wanda laying in her bed reading a novel she recently bought over a cup of tea. You didn't know why Wanda hated you so much. It could have been the fact that she thought she was better than you because she was the all ‘Mighty Avenger’ and could never work to kill for a living, or just hated the fact you reminded her a lot of her past too. A little too much. You both were Sokoivan. Her accent was washed away while yours was layered on thick. Though sometimes you catch yourself mixing your Sokoivan with Russian at some points. You mastered both.

"You know how much I hate you smoking in my room Y/n? What if a neighbour calls in? You do realize it will blow our cover." Her eyebrow raised tilting her head at you. Giving you a concerned look. "Wanda. You understand we're the only tenants in the goddamn building right? Besides, if my room had a window then you wouldn't see me as you wanted." You used to smoke joints often but on every mission, you thought you stored them in a safe place on your person, until a fight happened and you had squished joints. So you thought the easiest and cheapest option was to get a weed pen. No odour, no mess. Easy and relaxing after a tough mission. To make you forget what you did that day.

"Go smoke in the living room. There's a window that opens there. It's like you come in here just to bother me." She placed a bookmark on her page, prompting it on her nightstand. Her arms crossed, she shifted her body around her bed making her oversized white longsleeved shirt fall off her shoulder. "Maybe that's it Nebun. Maybe I just want to bug you. It's hard to talk to four walls all day long when you have another person sleeping across the hallway." You inhaled your pen once more safely sliding it into your pyjama pants.

"God I hate when you call me that! Why can't you get over using our language when we have no home country anymore?" Wanda lifted her sheets over her body stepping out of her bed. You saw her shiver running to face you. She was only wearing her white shirt. All you hoped was she was wearing underwear at least. "It's funny you think your country is gone when we are the country of Sokoiva! A country isn't a place without its people! Why can't you get over you can't hide who you are!" You stood tall in front of her even though you were two inches shorter than her. The superhero serum gave the power to kill Captain America, not give your legs more length. You two were going to play the game again. Who can put enough holes in the walls today? You quickly looked down noticing Wanda's red mist started to appear.

"I don't need you to tell me. Who. I am." Her hand whipped over your head ready to throw you into the hallway. You thanked God for your quick flexes hooked onto Wanda’s wrist crashing into the wall behind her breaking the drywall.

"Not today sweetheart. You can't hide from your past just as much as I can. Believe me, I've fucking tried! You always have someone in your past who comes back just to remind you of all the pain you caused! All the pain they caused to you! So yeah, I'm still pretty fucking proud to be from Sokovia before it became a lake! You should be too! You saved everyone from Ultron while I was graduating from the fucking Red Room! I couldn't save my people! You did! Now you just want to forget they exist!! If you do that Wanda you’re no better than those American officials who want you dead. All of us dead!!" You loosened your grip feeling Wanda's wrist throbbing. You were already leaving a bruise on her fingers. You know you went too far letting your strength get the better of you.

"Y/n...I'm sorry you felt that way but you don’t know what I went through. You didn't have to hide movies and music behind picture frames! You didn't have to hide underneath a bed for 2 days with your only brother thinking a bomb might go off! You didn't have to go to orphanages and then volunteer to get out of poverty!" Her other hand was free getting ready to hit you in your stomach until you caught it again but this time you lightly threw it over her head pinning both against the wall.

"Oh, you had luxury huh? That must've been a treat for you! You had a choice in the matter to be created, how touching! I was in Sokoiva until I was ten years old. Let me paint you a picture so you don't have to read my mind, shall we? My father was a scientist and my mother was Russian, we never met until I was 15. I lived mostly with my father until he was called to do a top secret mission for the Russian government. So instead I lived with my grandmother outside of Novi Grad until she unfortunately died. I was shipped off to my mother only to find out she was one of the most elite and one of the first Black Widows in Russia! She and five others helped Dreykov create the Black Widow program. Which might I add is was where I was shipped off to! I completed the program top of my class to graduate with Natasha’s sister Yelena and was heading into my first ever mission until my father pulled me out last minute." You had to catch your breath. You felt tears form in your eyes trying to hold your composer.

"You done yet? This position is getting a little uncomfortable." Wanda huffed showing no emotion.

"Nope, not yet you pain in the ass! We're getting to the best part." You let go of her hands seeing a deep purple ring around Wanda's wrists. Your hand rested on her chest guiding her to the foot of her bed making her sit down.

"My father was a good man. A very good man. Even though they had him working with the Russian HYDRA headquarters. They wanted a serum to kill the real super soldiers. Someone they couldn't beat. My father did just that. One vile. One mega super soldier serum. His moral conscience got the best of him. He destroyed all of his work except for the vile. We were on the run, we almost lost them until a team of Widows came on our doorstep. He refused to give it up. So 16 your old me had to hide as my mother killed her husband. My father. I had no choice but to take the serum. I killed all of the Widows. All the girls I grew up with in that fucking room! All my mother did was cower running away from her fate! So yes Wanda! There's my fucking story. If you think yours is bad just remember about others around you! Enjoy your pity party. While I enjoy the sweet memories I had with my father in Sokoiva." A tear fell running down your cheek, you quickly wiped it away feeling so angry over Wanda. You turned walking out of her bedroom to yours.

You heard Wanda try to speak your name but she choked. She faintly whispered out all that she could muster up. She was too stunned.

Wanda knew it was true, that's why she stayed silent. You listened to her feet touch the laminate floor making little ticking noises, becoming louder. Your lights weren’t on. You sat in the dark on the floor next to your bed. You weren’t crying or at least you didn’t think you were. When you heard Wanda’s feet stop you peered over to the door opened, gleaming in the orange light from the hallway. Your eyes darted over not realizing you were crying. The tears were too scared to fall so they built up waiting for the right moment.

“Y/n? Ce faci pe podea?” Wanda turned on the light. Her footsteps increased, your back was against your bed knowing the mattress moved. She sat on the edge of the bed staring down at you.

“Huh? And I thought you forgot your first language.” You sniffled, pulling the bottom of your tank top up to wipe away your tears. “You’ve come to tell me off for hurting you again right?” You looked up at the ceiling trying not to form any tears.

“No dragă. I didn’t come to do that.” She knelt down, sitting down beside you. “I came to see if you were okay, I think I went below the belt.” She huffed twiddling her fingers together staring at her hands.

“Yeah, you think.” A laugh crept on your lips. She knew you were being sarcastic.

“I also think you were a little tough me too Y/n.” Wanda moved her hair behind her ear cocking her head.

“I’ll apologize for leaving you bruises but not for what I said. I meant it, Wanda. You think you can become an Avenger and just leave all of your problems behind. Not all of us had that privilege.” You gritted your teeth.

Wanda got up pacing around the floor in front of you. “You thought I wanted to become an Avenger!? It was the only way to leave Sokoiva! While you were asleep in your cradle my building was bombed! Do you have cute little memories of your father? while I saw my parents die!! You cannot talk about hurt here when you were shipped off to Russia before you were in a motherfucking training bra!! So you’re going to apologize for all of it! Before I blow up this entire fucking block!” Her eyes were enraged in red. She lifted herself into the air with the flick of her wrist.

“Wanda, enough! We both had/have shitty lives but I don’t think destroying this entire block will change things! You have to realize that everyone struggles with their past, but we all just can’t magically make your family come back! If it was that easy do you think I’d be doing what I have been doing all these years? No.” You stood up from your spot looking up at the red head floating in front of you. “Yes-...I am sorry for what I said to you. And I’m sorry I hurt your wrists, I didn’t mean to be so forceful. You just get me so mad, sitting up there on your high horse. Thinking you are better than everyone else just because everyone is scared of you. Here’s the kicker sweetheart, I’m not! Kill me if you want, I don’t give a shit anymore. Go ahead, break another bone. It’s just another day in here. We break a wall or two. You silently cry in your room for an hour before you go to sleep, I try to push in the bone you dislocate in the bathroom. Then we all do it again tomorrow night.” You trotted over to Wanda clasping her torso and pulling her down so her feet touched the floor.

She was silent again. You left her speechless. Her tears weren’t angry anymore. They were sad tears. You could tell; the way her lip quivered trying to close her lips, her hands shook.

“Y/n…I didn’t know you can hear me cry at night..” Her eyes darted down leaving tear stains across her cheeks. Her red mist lightened, disappearing the crimson hue in her eyes restoring to her deep emerald colour.

Your hand lifted Wanda’s jaw raising her eyes to meet yours. “Yes detka, I’ve always known. I know why you keep reading that same damn book on your nightstand. It’s Vision’s book. He wrote little notes on each paragraph.” Wanda leaned into your hand on her jaw. Her body press against yours. Both of your feet touched together.

“How do you know so much about me, when I know nothing about you? That’s not fair Y/n.” Her hand reached up latching onto yours pulling it away from our face. Your fingers intertwined with hers noticing how clamy she was. The only thing you had in common with her in size was her hands. Your biceps were the size of her thighs, but your hands were still girly.

“Honestly Wanda, how could you know who I am. When I don’t know myself. I can remember who I was before the Red Room. Everything else is a blur. The only thing I remember of who I am is what happens in this apartment..” You sighed still having your one hand on Wanda’s hip. Your thumb stroked her softly, still locked in on her eyes.

“That’s all you remember? Everything on these walls? Not very much to look at.” Wanda let go of your hand running her hand up to your shoulder.

“No beautiful. I remember everything you do around these walls. The way you make your coffee, the way you always make your favourite meal when you’re depressed, that time you almost fell asleep in the tub!…” You both laughed, non-coincidentally touching both of your foreheads together.

“Oh shut up, that was one time! Once! You always have to bring it up huh?” Her nose crinkled allowing a smile to shine through.

“I gotta make sure you don’t forget.” You smirked only allowing one part of your lip to rise. Wanda extended her hand further up your head, running her fingers through your hair. She went on her tippy-toes meeting your gaze perfectly.

“How about we make some good memories for the both of us tonight?” Her hand dropped grazing your ear. “We forget about our little fight and make a new night routine.” Her knee rose between you, rubbing your crotch. She twinkled shoving you down onto your bed.

“That sounds pretty damn good to me Wanda.” Both of your hands were on her hips as she straddled yours. Her hands went underneath your tank top pulling it up over your head.

“Vrei să te ating, dragă?” Her teeth tugged roughly on her bottom lip, ripping off her white shirt. She was straddling you only wearing black panties, nothing underneath. Her boobs swayed over you letting her lips smash into yours. Her lips were so soft on yours, allowing yours to open pushing her tongue in. She touched yours motioning you to play along. Yours got in with no ease.

"Mereu..." Your lips let go whispering as you spoke between her lips. Your fingertips grazed either side of her cheeks pulling her to your kiss again. Everything about her you loved, even when she went crazy. Everything about Wanda was soft and gentle, you just never got to see that for the fact you two were cooped up together for so long. You both were about to break this hatred sometimes right? You thought to yourself. Maybe tonight was the night it broke.

Your hands still had a firm grasp on Wanda's face, she had other plans with hers. Her tiny hands slid between you both yanking your pyjama pants down with your panties with it. Her hands twitched going into your lips, you didn't know how aroused you were until she first touched you. You bucked your thighs against her. It was the first time in a long time you've been touched this way.

"Ah!.." Wanda's finger circled your clit gradually. Your body tensed up underneath her. She grinned pecking your cheek, leaving traces of her breath.

“Don’t cum yet, please don’t cum detka.” Her whisper gave goosebumps all over you. Her just saying not to cum made your opening tighten worse. Wanda stopped playing with your clit, moving further down dipping her middle finger into your opening. Your breath hitched looking down at her handy-work.

“Please, please, please Y/n. Don’t cum now. Not now.” Her hand started to thrust rapidly, adding her ring finger in your pussy. You coated her fingers making it hard for her to stay in. Her cheek pressed against yours. You couldn’t stop yourself from all the sounds you were making, your moans were becoming loud as Wanda kept increasing her speed. Your entire body reacted, shifting your hips to match her hand motions. You rode her fingers, bringing your walls grip around her.

“Fuck! W-Wanda, oh god!” Your climax was going to hit you like a ton of bricks. You came to that realization as Wanda stopped pumping her fingers in you, letting yourself ride it out. She slipped out shoving her glazed fingers in her mouth. You couldn’t believe it. Wanda won’t let you cum. You laid on your bed watching your thighs twitch hitting Wanda’s hips as she was between them. She stood up to her knees, sucking your juices off her hand.

“You taste so good Y/n..” Your legs would not stop shaking, you could not get over Wanda not letting you finish. You kept tripping over your tongue, trying to pipe up. Wanda's smile grew bigger. You knew she read your mind.

"You wanna cum so bad huh? Tell me you want to cum with your words." Her hands rode up your stomach underneath your grey tank top ripping it up the middle. Your boobs bulged out moving in motion. Her hands traced further up cupping both of your breasts in either hand. Her lanky fingers froze your skin to the touch, digging her nails into your chest in a circular movement.

"I want to cum..p-please let me cum!" Any faint touch made your sensitivity grow stronger. You needed the release desperately.

Wanda laughed under her breath, biting the side of her lip. Her hands let go of your chest; shuffling her body down, her knees touched your ankles.

"Good girl. I'll make you the best memory you'll never forget." She tilted her head back brushing her hair back behind her shoulders. Her head bent down between your thighs ripping them apart leaving your slit opening to her. Your entire being was being overstimulated, every little sense that passed through your body made your hairs stand up straight. Everything became too real when Wanda's tongue pressed against your clit dragging it down. Your body lost all control, your hands grasped the bedsheets underneath you.

You stared down watching Wanda's head move between your legs. Her eyes met yours tilted her head slightly playing her hand on your stomach, softly stroking your skin.

"Oh you love this, don't you?" She hummed between your folds slipping her tongue faintly into your core. She twitched her tongue inside you hitting every little nerve you have, your little moans became deafening using your other hand to cover your mouth. The pleasure was overcoming your whole body. Your breathing hitched feeling the same thing you felt early, you were cumming. Wanda felt it too leaving your folds working on giving your clit some much-needed attention.

"Yes!..oh my god..." Your hand grasping your bedsheets intertwined with your fingers ripping a few threads creating a little tear. Your back arched lifting yourself off the mattress.

"Come on detka, cum for me. Te rog, te iubesc." Wanda's hands laid firmly on the tops of your thighs clenching roughly. Wanda's voice made your climax arose, crashing into you.

You let go of your mouth; allowing your moans to turn into a loud scream. You extended your hand down resting it on Wanda's head. Your fingers brushed through her fiery orange strands. "Fuck! Wanda!" Your orgasm has never hit you this hard before, never have you ever come this big. Though, you remember you're never the one on the bed.

"Good girl, Y/n. Arăți atât de frumos." Her head looked up moving up from your thighs hovering over you. Her mouth and chin were sparkling with your juices all over her.

"Si tu esti frumoasa iubirea mea." You reached above your head brushing your thumb against her cheekbone. Wanda bent down pressing her wet lips onto yours. Her warmth bled into you. The warm tingly feeling spread throughout you and her. Your hands ran along her back making her cold skin warm up. You both were connected as one.

The rain pounded the roof of your apartment, only hearing the storm and you two's breathe in between kisses. You sat up straight holding Wanda on your lap, you two were so involved in each other that you didn't realize how late it was into the night. Nor did you care. Wanda let go of your lips sighing a heavy breath.

"Maybe I should try your weed pen." She giggled whipping your hair away from your sweaty forehead.

"Well if you can find my pants I'll let you." You cracked your neck looking over at your clock that sat solemnly on your nightstand. "Holy shit Wand, it's 3 am." Once you realized what the time was your body gazed out, continuously yawning.

"Your right Y/n. Maybe it is time to go to bed." Her warmth left you as she got off your bed stretching her legs. She took two steps behind down, picking up your fleece pyjama pants. Tossing them on the foot of your bed. She through back on her white long-sleeved shirt adjusting the hem on her shoulders tip toeing to the doorframe.

"What are you doing Wanda? This bed is big enough for both of us. Come sleep with me. Please?" You stood onto your feet, pulling the comforter down.

"I wish I can detka, but I think I left on a candle in my room. I'll sleep with you tomorrow night. I promise. We still have to create more memories." She winked as you watched her ass sway to her room.

"Alright beautiful, goodnight." You grabbed your pants rising them to your hips. Your hand slipped into your pocket looking for your weed pen, finding the pocket you left it empty. You scanned the floor looking for it coming to a realization.

"Hey! Give that back thief!" You laughed yelling throughout your apartment.

"I don't know what you're talking about Y/n." You heard Wanda's voice as she choked trying not to cough. Seeing faint smoke near the foot of her bed.

"Uh huh bullshit!" You laughed running back into her room.

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #lgbt #lesbian #marvel #wlw fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #wlw #avengers #scarlet witch x reader #the scarlet witch #wlw blog #elizabeth olsen #wanda mcu #mcu fanfiction

[a-yarn-of-purple-prose]

This is supposed to be my rounding up post for @justleaveacommentfest but I'm cheating because I'm making it into...

Chasm Delving Highlight Reel: Special Just Leave a Comment Edition

At this point I should be real and say that I almost always leave comments. It's just a matter of having the energy but, as any of the authors I follow could tell you, I'm actually your weirdly joyful recurring commenter. I'll leave you sincere emoji hearts and "Thank you for writing!" and several "I love this so muuuuch!" or comments about how you made me cry (it's true, y'all make me cry and laugh and yelp.)

No regrets at all, though the comment bot stuff had me rethink my approach to sound a little more like I was actually reading.

I say this so you'll understand that while I didn't rack up numbers on the comment fest, that was because I've commented on most of the fics that are in my bookmarks. I needed new stuff and there was not enough time on the week to read everything I wanted.

General numbers are: 12 comments on 10 fics (one was updating daily and yes I did the thing.)

But I read a bit and found some good stuff! Which led me to the thought "why not make those into recs as well?" After all, it's been a while.

Since I know how wordy I get, I'll put the rest behind the cut. Click for some sweet sweet Genshin Impact recs!

On the 10th the prompt was old fics and new fics.

Despite the site issues, I actually managed to leave a comment on a new fic!

If They Could Talk Reasonably, They Would've By Now, by FollowerofMercy

Rated: Teen and Up

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Characters: Diluc, Kaeya, and Lumine (to save the day) with a cameo by Venti

Ships: gen fic

General vibe: it's a reconciliation fic, but starts with a fist-fight

Trigger warning: none so far

Yeah, yeah, I know most of you prefer reconciliation fics to be about the guys being forced to work together with maybe a side of hurt/comfort, but this fic feels real in a way that'll appeal to anyone with siblings.

The dialogue is fire and Lumine is a marvelous goblin. Also Venti does a sneaky thing, which is something I always approve.

For the 11th the theme was Old, New and under 2k.

Let's start with the new ones (I literally opened the tag and browsed for something that caught my eye.)

the treehouse by rheadaholyc

Rated: General audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Characters: Kaeya & Diluc & Klee with cameos by Albedo and Kaveh

Ships: gen fic

General vibe: the softest fluff

Trigger warning: none

Kaeya promises a treehouse to Klee. Guess where? The result is the cutest little piece of fluff.

This fic was under 2k when it was posted originally, but we sorta egged the author on and now it's a 3 chapter (no regrets at all, I love all of it.) You should read it if you need to soothe your soul.

Work in Progress by echoelbo.

Rated: General audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Characters: Alhaitham, Cyno and assorted Sumeru characters

Ship: Alhaitham/Cyno

General vibe: crack taken seriously

Trigger warning: none

Alhaitham/Cyno fake dating fic, mostly played for comedy (or is it?) Since it's very short I won't spoil you by saying anything else about it. Short and funny is a perfect combo, isn't it?

For old I cheated :)

A new chapter of Paper, Glass, Steel, and Bone [or, The Tensile Strength of Tenacity] by kawree dropped on the 12th and of course I had to read it and comment.

I keep telling everyone to read this fic with mixed results (the rarepair experience after all), but if you want a big cup of Kaeya to go with his cameo in the current event, this fic is what you're looking for.

There's so much lovely banter! The first chapter is a charmer, but I really love that "dinner with the old timers" scene later on (also the hair-brushing one, but all kinds of qpr things make me go weak on the knees) (the thing about the dinner scene is that it's got good dialogue, emotional cues and *throws glitter* drama) and the dialogue in this latest chapter. Ugh, feelings.

The 12th was for AUs so I get to rec the infuriating smart people AU Chiluc fic! Yay!

Edit: I found out the author would rather I don't rec them, so I'm removing this link because I'm too much of a sinner for them.

I also managed to read one of those fics that had been lingering on my Read Later.

It’s like Alice in Wonderland but after falling through a rabbit hole instead of anthropomorphic creatures, card soldiers, and hookah-smoking caterpillars, you get gay smut by Grymmeoir

Rated: Mature (there is sex at the very end of it) (just saying because the rest of the fic is pretty much teen)

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Characters: Childe, Zhongli, Aether, Lumine, cameos by everyone you can imagine

Ships: Childe/Zhongli unless you're the sort that would say this is most certainly Zhongli/Childe ^^

General vibe: absolute crack

Trigger warning: none, unless you react really badly to second-hand embarrassment because Oh Boy

This is an Actor AU Childe/Zhongli thing that is kinda of a fusion with a webnovel that I haven't actually read. It's very funny and was a great thing to read while a cyclone raged outside (we get Weather over here in the bog) (I swear everything's fine.)

When I say this is crack you have to believe me. This fic is about a man that is so fucking oblivious he thinks shipping himself with someone else has nothing to do with real feelings. And let's not talk about Zhongli. 100% proof crack. Fun to read though.

The 13th was for rarepairs, which is a conceptual issue for me in this fandom.

There are two kinds of ships in Genshin: the ones with a whole bunch of fics of all kinds and the ones with 20 smut fics to their name. I'm not very much into smut :/ So I'd like you all to pretend Chiscara is a rarepair. Okay? Okay.

missing missive by childenator3000

Rated: Teen and up

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Characters: Childe, Wanderer (I won't call babygirl Scaramouche regardless of the status of his AO3 tag), Zhongli, Xiao

Ships: Childe/Wanderer, blink and you'll miss it Xiao/Zhongli

General vibe: sweet angsty fluff. What, it makes sense if you think about the feeling.

Trigger warning: none

A sweet little fic about finding out someone was in love with you hundreds of years ago (and might still be?) and/or seeing your love letter in a museum. Very much canon noncompliant as every single shippy fic is, yes, but also because of making stuff up about post-canon. Perfectly nice stuff, though. And, also, very importantly, about IMMORTALS IN LOVE. Big bold letters because that's my absolute favorite romance trope (yes, I'm the audience for all those xianxia dramas about reincarnation and eternal pining.)

The 14th was for trying something new...

... but I'll be real here and say that this was the day that I found this trove of short Kaeluc recs, which is the very opposite of something new.

just say yes by parahelios

Rated: Teen and up

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Characters: Diluc, Kaeya, Lisa

Ships: Diluc/Kaeya

General vibe: sweet, very sweet

Trigger warning: maybe alcohol, but it's not very present.

Short marriage proposal fic with a little miscommunication. Extremely cute.

Three years apart by Pas_Cal

Rated: General audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Characters: Diluc, Kaeya

Ships: Diluc/Kaeya

General vibe: yummy angst

Trigger warning: none

Diluc/Kaeya angsty reconciliation but make it a messy kabedon thing.

Then I felt bad for doing the opposite of the prompt and decided to read a rarepair from one of the characters I don't usually ship, in this case the Wanderer.

(please ignore the fact that this list has another Wanderer ship fic. I generally headcanon babygirl as aroace for obvious reasons.)

Best choice I could have made, since I found a fic that made me stay awake past bedtime (best kind of fic).

appleseed by moonbell (snowdrops)

Rated: Teen and up

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Characters: Kaveh, Wanderer, cameos by Alhaitham, Cyno, Tighnari and Nahida

Ships: Kaveh/Wanderer

General vibe: fragile build up of trust, beautifully rendered

Trigger warning: none

This fic is tagged as relationship study, but it's more like a character study of both of them, together and alone. The author here does this spectacular thing, managing to write an one-shot that reads like 50 chapters of slow burn.

The relationship develops in this slow, gentle way and the prose is absolutely beautiful. Seriously, this story is constructed like well-made lace in cobweb weight yarn.

(Additionally, if you are into reading people's thoughts about their writing, the author has a whole site with a bunch of commentary linked at the end notes. A real treat if you are also the sort of person that would be suffering in Haravatat.)

That's it for today! I swear I'll get around making a true Chasm Delving Highlight Reel some other day, the recs are piling up here.

And, if you have no idea what the hell I'm talking about, here's the link to my other Genshin Impact recs. Enjoy!

#genshin impact #fanfic recs #just leave a comment fest #Diluc #Kaeya #Lumine #Kaveh #Alhaitham #Cyno #Wanderer #Tartaglia #Zhongli #Chasm Delver Highlight Reel

[one-kind-of-cosmos]

Continuation of sorts on my Lost Paradise thoughts thingy:

  It has been... Goodness, only five days? (This was saved in a draft and I refuse to change my five day stance) But whatever, I have beaten Jagi as of recent (which was literally yesterday (not anymore)) and moved onto Lost Judgment. My better ‘Judgment’ suggests that I continue watching the anime to know more about Raoh and Souther, but hey, attention span stuff am I right? Anywho, let’s do this again:

I still cherish Toki, but holy hell his last training session and final fight are hellish, one having stupidly fast QTEs that will instantly kill you if you fail the last prompt and the other is just... I’m under leveled lol;

I’ll be honest, hostess stuff was only charming in 0, then it was brought back in Kiwami 2 and, mehhh... And it’s back here and, no comment, not even go in there (edit: I will because I’m a dork who actually does 100% completion);

Like a few certain characters (Especially Souther), their appearances feel really, fanservicy? Like, “hey, do you like North Star? Look! It’s Souther!... Not anymore! Hope you liked his one chapter odd appearance!” (And he’s oddly named “Thouzer”?...), He gets away with it by being a really good fight, Jagi on the other hand was fine, though felt same-y after a bit, I liked his gimmick at the start;

As stated last time, I’m playing the game dubbed and from the gameplay footage I saw of subs, it just kinda feels, again, fanservice-y, like... Ken as Kiryu and Jagi as Majima... It really hits you on the head that, yes, this is an RGG game and they can never let go of their signature voice-actors. When comparing Jagi’s dub and sub, I heavily preferred his dubbed voice, the voice cracks, the delivery, the little giggle in one of his QTEs, It’s just it;...

I’ve been doing nothing but complaining so far, so let me list a positive or two:

I’ve mentioned this before but now that I’m further in, I’ll say it again and more, the combat is incredible, heat actions being replaced with the signature ‘Hokuto’ techniques is a fun change. Ken’s fighting style in general is funky and in-depth, though good upgrades take a while to obtain and stat upgrades are just meh, maybe that’s because of how Kiwami 2 and 6 handled that that rubs me the wrong way;

Targa  : 3 (for real, his fashion sense is amazing, you go king).

Okay, last minute note, with the edits near the start where I mentioned that this post was kept as a draft... I delayed it in order to get this Targa screenshot I took, I got it like maybe on the same day, and It took me until now to actually post this, which is really funny that a single image delayed a post no one is gonna probably read because it’s a large block of text.... lol

Anyways, Ishin! is up next...

#fotns #lost paradise #fist of the north star #fist of the north star lost paradise #targa #Ishin won't be so pretty

[devildomimagines]

I live to make these bois into whores 😎

Can I get head cannons of the boys meeting MC’s family; the catch is, MC is attractive as hell and so is their family? Literally everyone is hot. Their Dad is a whole dilf, their Mom is a milf, their older brother and sister are both sexy as hell, and MC’s just casually introducing them to the demon boys who could barely handle being around them.

They have a storm coming hehe 🤭

Sorry for the long wait but what else is new on my blog ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

The older brothers are under the cut because this ended up longer than I first planned. I hope you enjoy~

Belphegor

It might take some bribing to get him to promise to be awake for the whole day but he gave in because it was important to you that he meet your family.

As you two approached the house, your mom was out in the front yard gardening.

When she turned around and caught the sight of you two she beamed a bright smile and waved.

You giggled as you waved back and looked at Belphie to see if he was waving too.

He was waving like a robot.

You have to elbow him to make him focus again.

He blushed as he admitted, “Your mom is really pretty.”

“I know,” you looked proud of the fact.

Your mom had called to the rest of the family and soon they were all outside to greet you.

You started greeting and hugging everyone.

Your dad clapped Belphie on the back and you caught his blush as he watched your dad head back towards you.

He mouthed the words, “Him too?” and you nodded.

Your brother and sister wasted no time in teasing you about bringing someone home.

Your brother tousled Belphie’s hair and your sister draped herself off you as she assessed Belphie.

“He’s cute,” she finally decided, “Be careful or I’ll steal him away,” then stuck her tongue out at you as she went inside.

You responded with your own tongue out at her retreating form.

Belphie fixed his hair and straightened his clothes, “You didn’t say your whole family was so handsome?”

“I thought it would be obvious, where do you think I got it?” You teased as you grabbed his hand and pulled him inside.

Beelzebub

You had thought maybe he wouldn’t fall victim to your family’s charm. You were wrong.

When the two of you entered the house, your mom greeted you two with a hug.

Beel blushed at the contact but recovered quickly. That is until your dad came up and patted him on the chest, “What a solid guy you caught, MC.” 

You rolled your eyes but you caught Beel’s eye sparkle at the compliment.

Your sister introduced herself to Beel and he shook her hand before she pounced on him. He caught her in surprise.

“Ok, that’s enough, get off him!” You pulled your sister away with a huff.

She made a face at you before retreating.

Your brother was sizing Beel up from across the room.

“Are you gonna say hello bro?” You asked.

“How much can you bench?” Your brother stood up.

Beel wasn’t prepared for the question, “Uh…”

“Probably a lot by the look of it,” Your brother supplied.

Beel looked at you for help. Leave it to your brother to make a demon uncomfortable. “Can you cool it and get out of his face? Dinner’s almost ready.”

“Hm,” then a wicked smile flashed on your brother’s face, “Arm wrestle for the loser’s dessert?”

Oh no.

Beel’s smile reflected your brother’s, “You’re on.”

You pulled on Beel’s sweater as he was rolling up the sleeve. “Wait, go easy on him please, actually maybe let him win? With your strength you could break his arm.”

“But MC, the dessert,” Beel looked determined.

“I’ll give you mine,” he looked like he was debating it but the enticing offer of two desserts was winning out. “And… I’ll do that thing you like.”

That was clearly the winner. Beel sat down across from your brother and gave you a quick thumbs up before putting up a compelling fight if you didn’t already know he was going to throw it.

Dinner went off without a hitch. Beel complimented the hell out of your parent’s cooking and they complimented his appetite. As he ate your dessert, he whispered to you, “Don’t forget about your promise.”

The thing Beel likes is when you two go to the gym together, don’t get it twisted!

Asmodeus

“Oh?” Asmo smiled, “This is gonna be fun!”

He immediately starts towards your mom, “Hello! You must be MC’s sister?”

She laughs at the compliment, “No honey, I’m their mother.”

Asmo lays on the charisma in his shock, “No way! I could have sworn,” he looks back at you and you roll your eyes, what did you expect?

Asmo offers his arm and your mom takes it with a smile. The pair of them walk towards the house chatting about something that you couldn’t hear.

He was a tricky demon but you laughed it off as you walked after them.

You bumped into Asmo as you entered and you caught his surprised face. He then smiled to himself as he found a spot on the sofa, he clearly felt at home.

Loud enough for everyone to hear, even those in the kitchen he commented, “MC, you didn’t tell me your family was so attractive.”

Your brother and sister snickered at your embarrassment as you sat next to Asmo.

“Because,” you lowered your voice just for him, “I knew you’d act like this.”

“Like what?”

“Can we just have a normal dinner?” You asked, taking his hand.

“Of course MC,” he squeezed your hand, “but I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

It figures. Asmo just gets like this when he’s surrounded by others that he both appreciates their features but finds them to be competition. If he can get them to like him, then he’s ‘won.’

He effectively keeps your family enchanted the whole night, he really does shine in social situations.

Satan

Interesting is the word of the night.

You had shown him pictures of your family as he was ‘studying’ for the night. He wanted to make sure he didn’t call someone by the wrong name, pronoun, or bring up a story you had told him in confidence.

The pictures did not do your family justice. They were gorgeous.

He immediately fell into his gentleman image. Satan took your mom’s hand and kissed the back of it.

She giggled but you shook your head, “That’s a bit much,” you commented.

“I don’t think so?” Satan tilted his head towards you.

“What about me?” Your dad snickered as he extended his hand.

“Dad~” You whined but Satan didn't skip a beat by taking his hand and kissing the back of it.

You dad chuckled heartily as he wrapped an arm around Satan, “Son, I like your style.”

Satan was starstruck and easily led further into the house by your dad.

You groaned, you clearly had not prepared Satan for how bewitching your parents could be.

Your sister and brother sandwiched you in the middle as they laughed. “Another one falls victim huh?”

The running joke being that the two of them had plenty of partners defeated by the magnetism your parents had. The partners often choosing the charming company of your parents and not the child they were dating when they visited.

You sighed and hung your head, you figured it’d play out like this but it was disheartening. That is until your thoughts were interrupted by a throat clearing.

You looked up and smiled at seeing Satan’s emerald eyes on you, silently asking if everything was ok.

You nodded and wiggled out from between your siblings to stand next to him as you formally introduced them.

You gave Satan’s waist a squeeze, happy he found his way back to you.

He smiled back at you softly, that is until your mom called out for him. He then blushed deeply as you let him get back to the kitchen. 

“Good luck!” You called after him with a giggle. Your parents were incorrigible.

Leviathan

It took a lot for Levi to agree to meeting your family.

He was a nervous wreck, already sweating and you hadn’t even opened the front door.

“Hey,” you took his face in your hands, “You’re going to be ok, they’re going to love you and I’ll be with you for every second.”

Levi exhaled and relaxed into your hands. He nodded and finally smiled.

Then the door opened and he was tense again.

You shift your hands from his face to holding one of his hands.

“Oh I’m sorry!” Your mom said, “Was I interrupting?”

“No,” you confirmed before she could make a big deal.

“Well, welcome!” She threw her arms around Levi. 

He squeezed your hand but said, “Thanks for having me.”

“Of course,” Your mom took his other hand and pulled him inside, “If you’re important to MC then you’re important to us!”

The three of you entered the living room and everyone got up to offer their greetings to you and Levi.

He never let your hand go.

When you got through everyone, Levi was a blushing mess.

He held you back as everyone made their way to the dining room. “I can’t do this, MC!” He whisper-yelled at you, “You didn’t say they were all so hot?! I can barely stand just you, but...” Levi looked at the dining room, “it’s like you times five now!”

You had to giggle and he gave you a pout. “Levi, we just got here. Dinner will be a breeze. Dad will probably tell stories of when me and my siblings were little, something about him in college and my mom will ask you-”

“She’s going to talk to me??”

“Well yes but she’ll only ask about your interests and hobbies. She loves anime BTW. It’ll be a sitch for you! I’m not worried at all.” You gave him a smile and you could see the gears turning.

He could talk about anime, that is manageable… “But won’t the others think I’m lame?”

“Nonsense! If you haven’t realized we’re a pretty accepting family, what other family would agree to send their child to hell for a year?”

Levi nodded, this is true. He took a brave breath and pulled you to the dining room.

Mammon

He’s overconfident in his ability to woo your family, which means he’s nervous.

It’s cute that he wants them to like him but it’s not as serious as he’s making it out to be.

You knew they would love him, they love everyone.

“Oy, this is it?” He shielded his eyes from the sun as he looked up at your house.

“Yep,” you took his hand and led him around to the side door.

“Wait, shouldn’t we use the front door?”

“We’re not guests, I lived here.”

“But I’m…”

The two of you entered the kitchen and your mom looked over her shoulder as she was pulling a large pot out of the oven, “You’re here!”

Mammon straightened up and took a step forward, “Let me help you with that, it looks heavy.” He grabbed the towel hanging from the oven handle and effortlessly carried the dish to the pot holder on the table.

“What a gentleman,” your mom snickered as she hugged you hello.

Mammon blushed and looked away but hugged your mom when she made her way towards him as hello.

“Who’s that holding my wife?” Your dad boomed.

Mammon backed off immediately as he came eye to eye with your father, “S-sir.”

With a smile your dad embraced Mammon, “I’m kidding, we’re all huggers here, better get used to it!”

Mammon blushed again in your dad’s grasp and you laughed. He shot you a look before smiling at your dad letting him go.

You shuffled up next to Mamms as he sighed, “Tired already? I know they can be a lot.”

“W-what are you talking about? I’m fine!”

“Good! Because my siblings are even worse!” As if on cue, the pair entered the room sizing up Mammon.

Your brother smiled, “I like him. He looks like he can get in some trouble.” If only he knew, but Mammon relaxed with the assessment.

“He’s pretty attractive,” Your sister said but her tone was skeptical.

“He models part time,” you offered, proud that you were making her somewhat jealous.

“Too bad he couldn’t cut it full time,” she dismissed. She moved in close to Mammon as if she was going to whisper in his ear but said loud enough for you, “If you ever want the better sibling, call me.”

His eyebrows shot up, Mammon was not expecting that.

You pushed your sister out of his space, “Go suck an egg!”

Your sister retreated with a vicious smile.

When you looked at Mammon, he was frozen in his shock. “God, she got you with just that?” You groaned, “This is gonna be a long night.”

“N-no!” Mammon was recovering, “I wouldn’t call her! You know that, right?”

“I know,” you sighed, “She’s just like that. I swear her and Asmo would have a day trying to one-up each other.”

“This is gonna be a long dinner huh?” Mammon was finally realizing it for himself.

You took his hand, “Yeah, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be!” He squeezed your hand and smiled, “The Great Mammon can handle anything!”

Lucifer

“Hm?” He would hum as you two walked up to your childhood home. “Who’s that?” 

Your dad was outside mowing the lawn. He turned the mower to start a line towards you two but stopped when he recognized you.

“That’s my dad!” You ran over to hug him.

Lucifer watched as he wiped the sweat from his brow with a cloth in his pocket before catching you in an embrace.

Lucifer steeled himself and made his way over to join the conversation.

“You must be the man of the hour! Wonderful to meet you finally, after all MC has said about you!” Your dad had extended an arm to shake hands, “I’d usually hug you but I’m a sweaty mess. Come on inside, everyone is waiting!” He led you two to the front door and announced your arrival as he excused himself for a shower before dinner.

The rest of the family entered, your mom, brother and sister, each dazzling in Lucifer’s eyes.

He was used to beautiful people; angels have their allure, demons their temptations but humans had always seemed somewhat average until he met you and now your family.

Lucifer subconsciously fixed his shirt and then ran a hand through his hair. Then he caught your gaze.

“You look fine,” you whispered as you sidled up next to him.

“I see where you get your captivating looks from, I believe the celestial lineage is from your paternal side,” Lucifer gave your returned father a long glance. “He cleans up well.”

“You’re not too bad yourself, Mr. Morningstar,” you teased as you took his hand and led him to the table.

“This will be an interesting dinner,” he murmured as he took a seat next to you and then gulped as your dad took a seat next to him with a brilliant smile. 

Is Lucifer nervous? Not that he would ever admit it, but who gave this human the right to be so handsome? With a hand on his chest, Lucifer clears his throat to regain composure.

#obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #my writing #obey me headcanons #just a little bit of crack though because i thought this prompt was funny #lol someone come collect these flustered demons

[clout-babe]

Head High [nsfw]

cc!sapnap x fem!reader

nsfw - minors dni

warnings: smoking (weed), oral sex, praise kink, thigh riding, a lil bit of hair pullling, mention of spitting, degrading if you squint

prompt/summary: reader gets high and finds their way into sapnaps bedroom

smoking + nsfw under the cut

"How on earth would I choose between the two of you?" I hazily looked back and forth between two of my friends with half-lidded eyes.

The boy with dirty blonde stray hairs decorating his forehead looked up from his hands, "I don't know. Come on, you gotta like one of us better?" While it seemed to be a statement, his tone suggested he was unsure.

I blinked twice, my eyelids felt like they could stick together and stay shut forever.

"Aw don't make her choose, they look confused enough as it is. As is? As it is." In a hushed voice, the girl across from me spoke. I tried to examine her face, but the lighting made it difficult. The room seemed to shine a vibrant baby blue, reflecting on every surface possible. My eyes bounced around the room, moving at what felt like light-speed.

I didn't stop glancing around until I felt a pressure on the surface in front of me. The boy sat right next to the girl. Names are helpful though. What's his name? What's her name?

"What's your name?" At this point I couldn't stop my thoughts from barreling off my tongue. I love this. Or do I hate it? Oooh guilt. Nevermind, it's gone!

"What?" The girl cracked a smile, still speaking barely above a whisper.

"Your name," I felt a giggle in my throat. "I forgot it." The laughter that followed from all three of us was choked and silenced. It wasn't funny. That made me laugh harder.

Between the girl and I rested a grey, worn pillow. I curled forward with my legs crossed, pushing my head into it. Tears pricked at the corner of my eyes, silenced laughs still flowing from my stomach. I felt a tap at the back of my head and reached my hand up, which felt like liquid almost. Not really though.

The tips of my fingers were met with a warm metal, and I was finally able to settle myself a bit. I picked my head back up, grasping the now known item.

My fingers were delicately wrapped around the cart. I spun it around, looking for the button on the pen. I brought it up to my lips as if it were nothing new, which it wasn’t really. Pressing down on the button, I began to suck against the cartridge portion, watching a ring of blue glow around my fingers. My head felt empty and heavy at the same time. The dry smoke hit the back of my throat, causing me to squint my eyes as a natural reaction. I continued to inhale until I no longer felt it necessary. Hold for three seconds.

1

2

3

Exhale.

The air blowing out of me sounded loud compared to everything else. In the background I could distinctly hear some cartoon character rambling on, bringing me a sense of faltered nostalgia. Now focusing on the cartoon, I turned my head, looking to where I believed the sound was coming from.

This attention not lasting long, I turned back around to see the girl looking at me with raised eyebrows. “Are you good, bro?”

A loopy grin spread across my face and I felt every muscle tense in my cheeks. My eyes almost suddenly widened more, no longer feeling sleepy. “I think I’m good.” That’s what I tried to say at least, not so sure it came out 100% clear. “What did I just hit?”

“You hit the hybrid. My pen.” The boy murmured. Clay! That’s his name.

My brain felt like it was buzzing. Such a quick change. “Which one is that?”

“That’s the wakey wakey one,” Alyssa whispered with wide eyes. Alyssa!

I hummed in response. I sat there, staring forward, looking around desperately trying to find something to focus on. My head bobbed up and down as my arms started to slightly tingle.

I’m not high, I’m not high. Yes I am. No. Yes. Only a high person has these back and forths while barely remembering their previous thoughts dumbass.

I smiled at my head voice.

“If I had to choose one of you, in the s-scenario that you weren’t-t friends anymore or… like… someth- something.” My brain was fried. I had enough trouble gathering words while sober, being intoxicated didn’t exactly help. “I wouldn’t choose. I’d hate both of you li- like eternally or something. Eternally? Is that the right word?”

Alyssa seemed to be in a similar state to me now, hitting Clay’s pen. “Sound’s right.” Her voice sounded rough with an exhale. I watched the scattered clouds escape her lips.

I watched her lips. She had pretty pink lips. Soft and plush. Reminded me of Nick’s.

Nick.

“When’s Nick gonna be home?” He was the only thing on my mind now. My mind was in a state that made it easy for it to wander. I didn’t hate it though.

Clay shook his head from side to side. “Should be any moment now.”

As if on cue, I heard the automated alarm voice, stating the front door had open. A goofy smile took over, and I practically rolled off the bed. Using the common sense I had, I made my way out the room. Shuffling through the hallway and into the kitchen where I saw brunette tufts of hair sticking out from under a black hat.

“Hi handsome,” I cooed, walking up behind him. He turned around, obviously not expecting to be met face to face with me.

It was pretty clear I was into Sapnap. It was pretty clear he was into me. We had this sort of thing going for a couple months now, but neither of us really spoke on it. We had made it apparent that we wanted each other, but both of us remained in the comfort of not trying to ruin the friendship.

“Hi?” he smiled. After examining my stance and face a bit, he nodded. Realization set in after seeing the dilation in my pupils. “You guys started smoking? Without me?” he brought his palm to his chest, acting fake offended.

“Oh totally. Clay’s blazed and Alyssa isn’t much better.” I smiled. I felt hazy and I swear I had heart eyes just looking up at the man in front of me.

He tsked as he shook his head. “I’m gonna go in there for a bit. You comin’ with?” He didn’t move from where he stood, didn’t break eye contact. I shook my head.

“I’ll lay on the couch for now. Jus’ wanted to see my favorite boy.” I offered up a sweet smile. I swear his face turned slightly pink. Something about being high made me so much more… affectionate. While all I wanted to do was hug him, kiss him, and just be around him, I didn’t wanna annoy him. Though my high was getting stronger by the minute.

He nodded in acceptance, letting me walk to the couch before going to Clay’s room.

Laying on the sofa, I felt like I was sinking. my body felt heavy and all I could think about was Nick. And the more I thought about him, the more I wanted him, in more ways than one.

After what felt like forever, but seconds at the same time, Sapnap appeared in front of me on the edge of the couch.

I looked at him without moving my head. The high was super strong there and I felt almost paralyzed, body continuing to ‘sink’ into the couch.

“Wanna go hangout? Just me n’ you? Maybe listen to some music or something..” Sapnap offered up, and I happily agreed.

.

Music was long forgotten. A lot of things were long forgotten. I pressed my lips against Nick’s with what will I had. The way our lips moved together was sloppy. It was desperate, yet calm. My head buzzed and I felt my body jitter with excitement. I felt so…gone.

I swung my leg lazily around Nick’s lower half, positioning myself on one of his thighs. His tongue slid into my mouth, and with inhibitions lowered I let out a slight whine. I felt him smile against my mouth. Cocky motherfucker.

I began to roll my hips against his leg, now feeling more needy than ever. I wanted to be impossibly close to him. I needed to be impossibly close to him.

He separated our lips, taking a breath and looking down to where I was grinding against him. His hands slid down to my waist and began to guide me against him. I tucked my face into the crook of his neck, quietly panting between planting small kisses there.

“Feel good, baby?” He muttered out, voice rough.

I nodded against him as he pushed his leg up against my crotch, earning a moan as a proper response. Everything felt so much better, and I couldn’t tell if it was because of the drugs, or because it was him. Maybe it was both.

I began to try and move faster against him, chasing my orgasm. He moved his leg up and down against me, making it feel so much more intense.

The room was filled with heavy breaths and the little noises pulled from my throat. He hummed, obviously pleased by the effect he was having on me.

It only took a little more before I started to feel close. “Oh fuck sap, please-“

“Please what baby? Use your words,” He sounded so smug.

“Please, I-I need to cum,” my words stumbled out my mouth. He tightened his grip on my waist.

“Good girl.”

I rocked against him quicker, reaching my climax.

Moans spilled from me, causing him to grin. I rode out my high, locking my hands onto his shoulders as I slowed my hips, catching my breath. My whole body tingled.

“So good.” I finally managed to mumble out. The multiple hits I’d taken managed to finally begin to take effect. I was slightly more aware only due to my contact with another person.

“Yeah?” he quipped. I looked at his eyes before dropping my head to his shoulder. I hummed back. I felt his chest rumble as he laughed.

I finally pulled back, moving way too fast. Nick’s eyebrows raised in amusement, watching me attempt to move.

Succeeding, I had pushed myself off the bed, standing on the side of it. Nick’s face morphed from amused to curious, watching as I motioned him to come closer. He obeyed, slowly shifting himself to the edge of the bed.

“What are you doing?” He chuckled, obviously in a playful mood.

“Do you want me to return the favor?” I said as clearly as I thought I could. Though it was a little rushed, he obviously heard me.

His lips slightly parted. I slowly sunk to the ground, using his knees to guide myself. Face to face with his bulge.

Chef’s kiss.

His eyes tracked me. “I-“ he was clearly caught off guard. It took a moment and I watched his face twist as his brain caught up. “Hell yeah,” he whispered.

I moved my hair, tucking it behind my ears. I brought my hand up to his lap. “You sure you’re okay with this?” I knew we were both so far gone, and I just wanted to double check on his clarification.

“Right now,” his eyes were wide and he let out a breath, “I give you permission to do whatever you want.” His voice was low. He even sounded sober for a moment.

But the gaze in his eyes as he watched me begin to palm over his shorts gave him away. A shaky exhale escaped his throat.

“Nervous?” A smirk followed my remark. The intoxication made me feel more playful.

“Aw shut up,” he bit back.

“Yes sir.” I mumbled. After a couple seconds, I decided I was down beating around the bush. I glided my hands up, sinking my fingers into his waistband. He leaned back into his arms , lifting his hips to assist me.

Once his shorts were out the way, his cock sprung up. Even in the darkened room, I could still see the details clearly. It was flushed red at the tip from the lack of attention, and he was thick. My mouth would have been watering if I wasn’t experiencing cottonmouth.

Not letting myself stare too long, I looked up at him first. His cheeks were slightly pink. How cute.

“Is your mouth dry?” I mumbled.

He shook his head and I put my palm up near his face. Trying to keep my hand steady was a chore.

“Spit.”

He hesitated a bit before gathering some saliva in his mouth and pushing it out with his tongue onto my hand.

I hummed in satisfaction, not giving him a warning before attaching my hand to his cock. He sucked in a sharp breath as I ran my thumb over the slit.

I grinned, proud that I was already having this effect on him. I glanced up at his face as I began to jerk him off. His eyes slightly squinted, watching me move my hand around him. His lips stayed parted, taking little breaths with each movement I made. I squeezed my hand slightly applying light pressure.

“God, you’re really fucking good at that.” he nearly gasped. His eyes flitted over to my face, and I swear he melted at the sight of me on my knees looking up at him. He pulled one hand from behind him and brought it up to my chin.

“So pretty like this.” It was barely audible, but it literally was so fucking heart melting.

And though my brain was practically empty, I knew I wanted his dick in my mouth.

Without breaking eye contact, I leaned forward and pressed a light kiss to the head of his cock. I slowed down my hand movements, just so that I could create a new pace. His hand slipped back to my hair.

Slowly, I wrapped my lips around him, sinking down onto his dick. A long groan could be heard above me. I went forward until I couldn’t anymore, then put my hand where I couldn’t reach.

I began to move my head, bobbing it around him. “holy shit, baby-“ it was practically a whine. i hummed, causing him to groan due to the stimulation. His hand flexed, pulling at my hair.

Desperate noises came from him. Nick got louder and louder until he got close.

“g’unna cum soon-“ he managed to get out. I didn’t stop. I buried his cock down my throat until my nose was hitting the skin on his pelvis. He grunted as I felt his cum literally hit the back of my throat. I continued to move my head, sucking him off until his noises of pleasure ceased.

I pulled off, coughing. He ran his hand over my head, mumbling praises to me.

“was s’ good”

“great job baby”

“fucking hell, princess”

Those were the only phrases I could make out. I couldn’t tell if it was the drugs or the massive crush I had on him, but my chest bloomed out of affection.

He stood up, fixing his shorts, “could we do this sober?”

I smiled at him, moving forward so I could straddle his legs. His hands moved up to my waist. “We could do a lot more sober”

:)

#sapnap smut #mcyt x y/n #mcyt fanfic #dream smp x you #dsmp x you #dsmp x reader #sapnap x reader #sapnap

[goatchulu]

jealous! lucifer x gender neutral! reader

Genre: fluff, ig? slight smut in the end.

Fandom: obey me!

Prompt: you find yourself in a fake relationship, and now you're introducing your "boyfriend" to the demom brothers. they don't take it so well, especially lucifer.

Warnings: mentions of drinking, mentions of harassment and stalking, they make out in the end, reader's gender is unmentioned for your imagination (and inclusion).

lucifer takes another swig of his whisky, a slight burning sensation lingering on his throat. no matter the amount of alcohol he consumed that night, he couldn't escape the bitter feeling that was left inside his chest.

the two of you have been hitting it off pretty well for the past few weeks, if he could say so himself. the harmless complimenting and the subtle glancing had turned into ardent flirting and shows of affection overtime. you two were finally going somewhere with your mutual pinning, or so he thought.

lucifer didn't think his small (not so small) crush on you would lead anywhere, really. nor did he think you would reciprocate his infatuation. but with all the friendly interactions you had of late, anyone would assume you two were together in a romantic light.

now look, lucifer prides himself as a person. he was assertive, efficient, productive, level-headed and the voice of reason when stress is most prominent. but as a lover? lucifer wasn't so sure. he assumed you'd like someone more jolly and eccentric like mammon or someone more confident and charismatic like asmodeus. he didn't expect for you to even spare him a second glance when it came to the dating game. lucifer was a busy man after all, and he wasn't the most expressive when it came to emotions; not very ideal for a lover.

but what lucifer also did not expect was for you to bring home a common demon boy and introduce him as your significant other.

let's just say that all the built up tension and courting were all ruined by a single dinner party.

you had gathered all the demon brothers earlier that morning, claiming you had an important announcement to make. you went as far as inviting diavolo and his loyal butler, barbatos, to spend the evening over for dinner. they thanked you for the invitation, but they unfortunately, could not attend because of their hectic schedules.

lucifer, on the other hand, was more than happy to accept your invitation (though he was quick to cover up the smile he held when you came up to him). seeing as he already lives under the same roof as you, anways. his happiness would soon be diminished and grinded into dirty, pathetic, dust, though.

lucifer's eyes narrow as mammon's loud laughter bounces off the walls of the dining room. lucienne, your "boyfriend", had managed to crack the demon up with one of his silly stories about a strange elderly wizard that sold expensive medication made out of fairy wings that turned out to just be bedazzled dragon fly wings. he worked wonders with the avatar of greed, considering the fact that just a moment ago, mammon was cursing in jealousy and resentment as you sat with your newly introduced boyfriend.

luficer would've told mammon to shut up, but he feared saying something far more vulgar out of anger. the previous tension was already eased into a more domesticated athmosphere (credits to lucienne's charm and humor), lucifer didn't want to ruin dinner for his brothers, and especially not for you.

i mean, lucifer felt betrayed, he felt used and-- and played. how could you lead him on like this? but deep inside, he knew there was something else. he felt disappointed, he felt defeated, he felt crushed, he wished he'd done something sooner before this lucienne stole you away from him.

but anyways, back to the dinner party.

"you seem unusually quiet, lucy." asmo teases from across lucifer's seat. the phrase seems to capture everyone's attention, all eyes now on the grimacing and glaring lucifer.

"asmo's right, you haven't uttered a word since lucienne arrived, lucifer. is something wrong?" you chime in, causing lucifer to perk up. the thought of you worrying about his state sent sparks into his heart, but they were quick to disappear when lucienne asks him the same question.

"i'm fine." he replies to your concern, unable to hide the venom that strung on to his words. this only causes asmodeus to snicker, and leviathan to sink deeper into his seat. everyone else watches in concern as lucifer downs another glass of demom whiskey. you're about to ask him again, unsure about his reply, but he stops you before you could even form a word.

"i said i'm fine."

the air is tense, until eventually, mammon gasps out of nowhere. "don't tell me! lucifer is jealous!!~" he repeats in a sing song manner, only irking lucifer even further. no one else speaks up, the whole situation akward enough.

after a while, though, lucienne speaks up. he gestures at mammon, especially. hoping to stop the demon from escalating the situation. "hey mammon, wanna hear about that one time i accidentally professed my love for my eight grade math teacher?" mammon only settles back into his seat, ready for another laughing fit. the avatar of pride snaps at this, slamming his fists down the table before abruptly excusing himself with a "i have something to do."

he spares you one last glance. his heart aching with guilt from the way you had lowered your head in shame. lucifer didn't want to make you feel like he owned you, or that you weren't allowed to be with someone else... he just, he has enough reason to justify his anger right now and he really wants to dwell in it. he turns his head away from you, biting his lip to contain the guilt and pain that was threatening to seep out. he doesn't turn to look back as he walks away from the dining room in long and rushed strides.

lucifer walks down the dark hallways of lamentation, familiar with every nook and cranny the mansion had. he sighs in relief as his palm reaches out for a familiar door. it creaks as lucifer walks into his room, sounding just as glum as lucifer is.

he heads straight to his paperwork, silently hoping that they would provide him some sort of comfort. he tries to focus on anything but the thought of you or your unavailability, his mind barely processing any of the words that were printed out in front of him. he groans, his hands pulling on his jet black hair in frustration.

i mean, he should've expected this. lucienne was everything lucifer thought you would love. funny outgoing, caring, expressive, charismatic, a smooth talker and he looked at you with utmost respect and admiration. i mean, who in their right mind would choose old-schooled lucifer over the flawless lucienne?

you deserve lucienne and although lucifer thinks that no one in the three realms could ever deserve to call you theirs, he still thinks that lucienne is more deserving of you than lucifer could ever be. what were you doing to the poor demon? he was never one to admit defeat like this, and he especially wasn't the type of person that'd lower themself like this.

his rollercoaster of thoughts are interrupted by a gentle knock on the door. his ears already familiar with this particular knocking pattern. he can't help but straighten himself up, suddenly aware of the way his hair is all sprawled out. he slicks it down with saliva, muttering a small "enter" soon after he finshes checking on his appearance.

his mood lightens just a little bit at the sight of your face. as much as lucifer wants to hate you right now, he couldn't possibly feel that way towards you. never, not in a quadrillion light years.

you sit down in front of him, a genuine look of concern on your face. this makes lucifer visibly frown, catching you a bit off guard. "i wanted to talk to you about something, lucifer." his eyes grow curious and a bit hopeful, wishing it were about something that would distract him from the current situation or give him even the tiniest bit of closure.

"it's about lucienne." and once again, you manage to crush all his hope with only a few words. lucifer swears that if he hears that name one more time, he would personally shove your lovely boyfriend down the deepest depths of the underworld.

you watch his brows furrow and his fist tighten on his quill. lucifer looks far from happy to hear you talk about your significant other right now. "look, i know you'd rather not hear about lucienne again, but it's really really important and i want you to just hear me out. just this once, please?"

lucifer couldn't stand the pleading look you were giving him. your puppy eyes were a weapon that you used on him often, and they always managed to work. a tired sigh leaves his lips, if it meant getting it over with then he'd listen. "fine," he snaps, not before rubbing at his temple in obvious distress. he's said fine, but his body language told you otherwise.

"someone's kind of harassing lucienne at the moment. stalking him, giving him unwanted gifts and constantly professing their love for him when he's told them multiple times that it made him uncomfortable. they're an admirer of some sorts. i'm posing as lucienne's lover in hopes that they'd back off for a while, but i wanted to see if you and diavolo could do some actual help. it's worrisome, really. and it's been stressing lucienne out for the past couple of weeks. pretending to be his significant other is the most i can do for him, i hope you understand."

lucifer only freezes in shock, guilt washing over him all so suddenly. you call out for him, effectively snapping him out of his short daze. of course you'd offer to help lucienne out, you've always been a kind person. in lucifer's eyes, atleast. he coughs into his hand, avoiding eye contact with you as he degrades himself for his previous selfishness.

"of course, i'll do my best to make sure this harasser is punished. the school and i will ensure that lucienne won't be seeing this stalker anytime soon. just keep supporting him like this, i suppose. tell him he can sleep here for the night. thank you for informing me about this." you smile at lucifer's response, relief overwhelming your senses. if this meant that lucienne was finally going to be safe and unbothered, you were overjoyed.

you jump at lucifer, thanking him, all the while, squeezing the life out of him. his heart races impossibly fast at the gesture, and you can't help but smirk at the red that tainted his cheeks. "just so you know, i still like you. and only you, lucy."

his breath comes to a halt. he was no longer able to contain the butterflies that crowded his stomach; shock and well, pure bliss apparent on his face. "does this mean i can kiss you?"

"do anything as you please."

lucifer lunges at you. capturing your lips into a hungry and impatient kiss. his hands roam all over your torso, looking for anything he could hold onto. he settles for your waist and you drape your hands over his shoulders. heaven knows how long he's been waiting for this moment.

he manages to stumble through his room, leading you two to his bed. you part as he pushes you down to sit at the end of his king sized bed. he grins at the sight of you, disheveled and thirsty for more. the avatar of pride couldn't help but be excited for the faces you'll make in the unholy endeavors he's planning for you. he'll devour you, tear apart every innocent limb you have in your body. his imagination runs wild as he thinks of the many ways he'd mark you as his, exhibit you to the world and spread you wide open for his contenders to see. for them to know just how pathetic and needy lucifer could make you in an instant.

he bends down to kiss you again, pushing against your tounge with his own. he squeezes your thighs, digging his nails deep into the skin under the cloth still covering you. groans and grunts leave your lips as he countinues to caress your plush thighs.

as you two part, panting, a newfound possessiveness overtakes lucifer's eyes.

"you're mine."

#lucifer x reader #lucifer x gender neutral reader #obey me x reader #obey me x gender neutral reader #obey me x mc #lucifer x mc #jealousy #jealous lucifer #obey me fanfic #obey me #om! shall we date #om! lucifer #original character #om! mammon #om! fanfic #fanfic #fan fiction #reader insert #gender neautral reader #lucifer x gn reader #gn reader #gn!reader #gn!mc