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theinternetisfulloftrash · 1 year

Note

Hey!!

Can I request “are you wearing my shirt?” with Dylan? Please and thank you!

Love you xx

You've waited a long time for this...

SO YES, I most certainly can! This sounds like fun :) MUCH LOVE!

Authors Note: Cliche? Maybe. But some lines are classic. Sue me. But like, don't? Litigation is expensive ;) p.s. smut... p.p.s. x female reader.

Prompt list HERE, but currently closed. This prompt is like a year old :/

Better on the Floor

Exhausted would be putting it mildly. You'd had a long week and the fact that it was only Wednesday wasn't helping. When you got home, you kicked out of your shoes, stretching out your aching toes as you stripped out of your stiflingly uncomfortable clothes, wandering your way slowly down the hall toward the bedroom. You peeled off your underwear and tossed them in the hamper before you padded into the bathroom to turn on the faucet of the bathtub. You watched the water pool in the palm of your hand, running out between the gaps of your fingers until it was just this side of scalding before you plugged the tub.

You stretched out like a cat in a sunbeam and then pulled open the drawer of the vanity to grab a bath bomb. You watched impatiently as the bath slowly filled before tossing the little ball of Epsom salt into the water, watching it fizz for a few moments before you followed after and slid into the water.

You could almost feel the muscles of your back sigh in relief as the warmth washed over them, drawing out at least some of the tension that had been locking them in place for days. You relaxed against the slope of the bath, letting your neck roll against the soft bath cushion for a few minutes. Enjoying the silence long enough to feel human again before you flicked the water from your hands and reached down to grab your phone from the bathmat.

Your discover playlist on Spotify was something you liked to try to fit in during the week because you always liked finding something new, and you hadn't had a chance yet this week. Now seemed as good a time as any. You tapped to play and then set your phone down on the edge of the bath. You weren't sure exactly how much time had passed before the music faded out to an incoming notification, but when you swiped to view the text, your fingers were wrinkled and pale from the soak.

Dylan: So... I'm outside... and I'm an idiot

You smiled and shook your head before your smile turned to more of a smirk. You sat up a bit in the bath, shaking the water off your other hand so you could reply.

You: Alright. I'm intrigued.

Dyan: I might have...maybe...possibly left my keys in my trailer

You: How'd you get home?

Dylan: Fob wasn't on my key ring after I had it detailed

Dylan: Come let me in? I feel like a creep lurking out here

You: One sec

This was exactly like him, and it only made you love him more. You smiled as you stepped out of the bath and quickly toweled dry with one that was a bit smaller than you'd like if you were going to the door, so you snatched his bundled t-shirt off the counter and pulled it on before you rushed to the front door and unlocked it.

"Hey," he said with a smile when you opened the door.

"Hey," you replied, reaching out your hand to take his. You pulled him inside and into a tight hug, standing up on the tips of your toes and locking your arms together around his neck.

He gently kicked the door closed behind him and locked the deadbolt before he fully hugged you back, squeezing you tight around the waist and sighing into the damp hair at the nape of your neck.

"Oh no... you were in the bath, weren't you?" He pulled back and cupped your cheek in his palm. "Sorry, baby."

"'S'okay..." you hummed, nuzzling into his touch, enjoying the warmth of his palm on your cheek.

"You must have been so cozy in there..." He admired you for a moment, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before his gaze roamed down over your body.

You smiled, blushing at his attention.

"You look pretty comfy now though..." he said softly, pausing for a moment before he continued. "Is that...are you wearing my shirt?"

"Mhm..." you hummed, swaying slightly in his arms.

His eyes continued roaming, his hands following the trail they blazed until they were toying with the hem of it that was skirting across your upper thighs.

The skimming touch of his fingertips on your skin lit it with goosebumps. "It looks better on me..." you lied.

"Maybe..." he chuckled softly, pulling his lower lip between his teeth for a moment before his eyes met yours again, "but it'd look even better on the floor."

Did it matter that it was a line if ever you'd heard one? Not even slightly. It still sent a filthy little shiver down your spine. It didn't help that he'd leaned in and was peppering the side of your throat with wet little kisses as he walked you backward until you were pressed to the wall of the entryway.

He kissed you hard, his hands pinning your shoulders to the wall before they slid down your body and pulled his shirt up over it. He tossed it on the floor and then leaned in again, his nose brushing against yours before he whispered in your ear.

"See?" he breathed, his lips wet on your skin. His fingertips ghosted along your skin until one palm settled on your chest, the other on your ass.

You didn't see a damn thing except for little stars, but he'd more than made his point. You punched out an abrupt panted breath at the feeling of his fingers pinching your nipple before he sealed his lips to yours and swallowed down the little moan he pulled from you.

He kissed you until you were breathless, and in the brief reprieve he offered—mouthing along your jawline and driving you wild with the little grazes of his teeth—you managed to draw in a ragged enough lung full of air to keep from passing out.

You were pretty sure you'd collapse if he wasn't holding you in place. His touch, his admiration of your body, it had you forgetting just how awful you'd been feeling just an hour ago. Turns out? A hot bath and a fine-ass man putting his hands all over you are the curealls for just about everything. Who knew.

"Missed you..." he hummed against the thin skin that covered your collarbone.

Your head fell back against the wall.

"Couldn't stop thinking about you..." he said before he kissed his way to the dip at the base of your throat. "Took a shower on my break..."

You looked down at him, at his hand that was clasped to your upper arm, those beautiful veins painting across the tendons that flexed at his grip. His dark hair smelled of his shampoo.

"Had me so riled up I had hide in there and beat off just so I could be seen in fucking public."

It made you immeasurably happy that he was still infatuated enough with you that he was capable of expressing the laughably pathetic self-control of a hormone-addled teen. Your cheeks flushed and a little chuckle shook your chest.

"I deserve that..." He smiled against your skin, before he pulled back from you, his eyes locking with yours. "But I mean..." his gaze flicked down your body before his hand that had been nestled into the dip of your waist slipped down between the two of you until he was cupping the warmth of your core in his hand. "Can you blame me?"

"Fuck."

Now he was the one chuckling, but it quickly faded, his expression shifting from sly to sultry when his fingers slipped inside of you.

You groaned, your head falling forward to his clothed shoulder. You gripped the fabric of his shirt, stretching out the neck enough to expose some skin for you to latch onto with a nipping little bite.

He winced, sucking in a quick breath before he distracted you from your mission to mark your territory with a curl of his fingers inside you.

"Oh— Shit!" you gasped, panting into the cotton of his shirt until it was damp with your desperate breaths.

"That feel good?" he asked, even though the way you were squeezing his fingers had to be answer enough.

You nodded against his chest before he used the curled index finger on his free hand to lift your chin.

"Good," he said before he leaned in and kissed you.

His soft lips felt incredible, the flavour mint on his breath mixed with the faintest hint of tobacco, the combination had become something uniquely 'him' to you. It made your head spin. So, when his tongue begged to be let in to play with yours, you were happy to oblige.

You let him work you over until you could feel that little buzz building up inside you, that tingling hint that—with just a little more effort, one more precise little motion—he'd have you cumming before he was even out of his shoes, and that hardly seemed acceptable.

Breaking your kiss, you pulled away from his chasing lips, knowing you must look absolutely wrecked, and then you gripped him through his pants.

He tossed his head back and practically growled at your touch, his fingers stilling for only a moment before his eyes met yours once more with a fierce, fiery need. He shoved your hand aside and ripped open the zipper of his jeans and shoved your hand into his boxers.

"That's what you do to me..." he said, rutting into your palm, matching his pace with his fingers inside you as he kicked out of his sneakers.

You grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it off him, tossing it against the wall behind him. "Take those off..." you said, flicking your gaze down his body at his pants, flexing your wrist inside his boxers.

He stepped out of his jeans and socks and then pressed you against the wall once more, rubbing his thigh against the back of his arm to apply a bit more pressure to the hand that was driving you insane.

"You close?" he asked, nosing your jawline and breathing against your skin.

You nodded, pressing a kiss to the side of his throat before you spoke. "Yes..."

He pressed his thumb against your clit and you gasped his name into his hair when his lips fell to your chest.

Just when you thought he was going to shove you off the edge, you felt his fingers slip free from you before he slid down onto his knees in front of you. His warm brown eyes looking up at you, his soft lips parted just inches from your skin. This was criminal. This was attempted murder in the first degree.

When his tongue teased over you, the flutter of his eyelashes was almost enough to get you off. It looked like he was taking a hit of a designer drug...getting high off you.

He moaned against your skin and his hands pinned your hips to the wall, gripping the soft skin under them tight enough that it stung. That tiny hint of pain only made all of it better.

Your hands tangled into his hair, drawing him closer to you. You sighed out his name and half-formed expletives as his tongue teased you back to that precipice he'd had you teetering over minutes earlier.

He sealed his lips around the singing little bundle of nerves and flicked his tongue, his beard teasing the sensitive skin, before he let his lips fall open and he lapped along the slick of you he'd made slicker with his skilled mouth.

You were trembling now, your fingernails scraping along the back of his neck now, your legs weak with the effort of holding yourself up when all you wanted to do was fall apart.

"Come for me..." he breathed before he sealed his lips again.

Demand? Request? It hardly fucking mattered, because before you could classify it as either you were doing it. You were calling out, grasping his shoulders and trembling against his hold on your hips.

He pulled back from you, wiping his mouth into the palm of his hand before he stood in front of you once more. "Mmm...." he hummed before you watched him stroke his length with his wet hand. "Love the way you sound when you're cussing my name..."

Fuck. He'd only just made you come and you felt a new little ember spark to life inside you just waiting to be stoked. Insatiable was putting it lightly. When he kissed you this time, you could taste what he'd done to you—how he'd just driven you wild—and you needed to make him feel just as good.

You stepped apart enough to make more space for him between your legs and pulled him toward you. "Need you..." you whispered against his lips.

"Need me to what?" he replied, kissing along your jawline to your ear before he lapped against your throat and sealed his lips to suck a little mark into your skin.

You bucked your hips against him, feeling his length slide through the mess he'd made of you. "To fuck me..."

The way he responded to those words never got old. You held them in reserve, generally choosing to be a touch more subtle. He practically growled, his head snapping back, his dark eyes trained on yours when his grip on you tightened.

You gasped when he hefted you up in front of him, lining himself up with you, locking your thighs around his hips before he pinned you to the wall so he could free one of his hands enough to lock one of your wrists up in it just above your head. Then he drove into you in a slow, firm thrust.

"Dylan!" you cried out before he kissed you again, grinding you back against the wall before he began a more predictable, yet tantalizing rhythm.

A perfectly good couch in the living room just steps away really, a bed down the hall that was plush and waiting, and yet here you were fucking against the wall a step inside the front door like a couple of rabid animals.

When he fucked you like this he never retreated, in this position he just rocked his body into yours. The pressure it provided just where you wanted it most was unmatched. It was incredible and intense. It quickly reminded you why the couch and the bed should be neglected from time to time. Variety is the spice of life, right? And this particular variety was delicious.

"Fuck, baby..." he moaned, his hand slipping from yours, his fingers gliding through your hair until they were tangled into it and he tugged it just enough to make you wince. "So good... so fucking tight..."

"Shit!" He was driving you fucking wild. Sometimes you wish you could take just a tiny day trip into his mind to see if you made him feel as unhinged as he did you. Hardly seemed possible, but the way he looked buried inside you? You could be tempted to believe there was a chance his infatuation could rival your own.

Your body was trembling again and you felt that familiar tug inside you, that welcomed warmth building. Desire and need beginning to fold to bliss and euphoria. Was he with you? Was he ready?

The stutter of his hips, the faltering of that perfect rhythm, they were signs that he was on the edge of his own release. His breath grew ragged, and his jaw clenched with the effort it was clearly taking him to hold it back.

You didn't want him to wait, he was ready and so were you. You leaned forward and kissed him, clenching around him as the final roll of his hips had you coming undone around him.

The soft rumble of the groan he let out into your mouth when you felt him spill inside you made every sensation feel all the more intoxicating. Moments like this were almost unfathomable. How did you end up here? Lucky enough to have this man panting against your chest? It was absurd really. Absolutely batshit.

After a few moments of shared giggles and coming back to reality, he picked the shirt you'd been wearing off the floor and handed it to you to slip back on.

He appraised you as you tugged the hem down over your body.

"What?" you asked, smoothing the new tangles in your hair.

"Nothin'..." he said with a shrug, pulling on his boxers. "Just nice being right."

You narrowed your eyes. "About?"

"Definitely better on the floor."

#dylan o'brien #dylan o'brien imagine #dylan o'brien smut #dylan o'brien fanfiction #dylan o'brien x reader #my first attempt at prompts!#trashy writing #better on the floor fic #is this a tired trope?#I mean... maybe #but some lines are just... ✨hot✨#so... forgive me for a bit of recycling #first new thing in a while #ENOJYYYY #kinda threw... *a lot* at this one

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v-thinks-on · 11 months

Text

Phoenix is nudged into awareness by the feeling of someone stirring underneath him. He’s sprawled across the wine red sheets, with Miles Edgeworth pinned underneath his heavy, sleep-laden limbs, awake and struggling to extricate himself.

Phoenix frantically retreats to his side of the bed. This wasn’t exactly what he imagined for their first morning together - he’s not even sure that it really counts.

Miles recomposes himself after being nearly crushed, but to Phoenix’s surprise, he stays lying in the center of the bed - it is his bed, after all - half-curled toward Phoenix. He won’t meet Phoenix’s eyes, but he hasn’t turned away either. Phoenix is hopeful that Miles’s expression is awkward, not annoyed, but it’s hard to tell.

“Miles…?” Phoenix says cautiously.

“I didn’t mean to wake you up.” Miles doesn’t sound too pleased about it.

“I didn’t give you much of a choice.”

“I-I wasn’t trying to get up… just get comfortable,” Miles mutters so quietly Phoenix isn’t sure he hears it right.

Phoenix can’t tell if the pink tinge on Miles’s cheeks is a reflection from the red sheets or a blush.

“Oh,” Phoenix says.

Before he has a chance to try to figure out where to go from here - what wouldn’t be too much - Miles abruptly brushes his hand across Phoenix’s cheek, only to pull it away just as quickly.

“Ngh. How did you do it so smoothly?” Miles demands.

Phoenix bites back a laugh. “I, uh…”

Instead of trying to come up with an answer, he gently reaches out to cup Miles’s cheek. His skin is warm and soft, and Phoenix is pretty sure that is a blush. Miles’s expression immediately softens as he leans into the touch, probably without even knowing he’s doing it, but there’s still a crease in his brow. Phoenix trails his fingers across Miles’s forehead to brush aside some stray hairs, in soft disarray from the night’s sleep.

“That’s how,” Phoenix concludes with what he admits is probably a smirk, his hand lingering at Miles’s cheek.

With a determined expression, Miles reaches out toward Phoenix’s face and brushes aside the stay hairs on Phoenix’s forehead, and then he runs his fingers fleetingly down Phoenix’s cheek.

On an impulse, Phoenix catches Miles’s hand before he can pull away entirely. Maybe Phoenix shouldn’t be surprised that Miles’s muscles, from his fingers to his palm, are all taut with tension that probably never goes away, though his obvious nerves probably don’t help. Still, Miles lets Phoenix intertwine their fingers, like a subtle embrace. He wonders if it’s Miles’s heart he can feel racing, or just his own.

It takes longer than Phoenix expects before Miles turns away again, flustered. “W-we should probably-”

Phoenix can’t help but be a little disappointed, but he disentangles their hands without complaint. “How about some breakfast?”

“It’s almost noon.”

“What do you mean, almost noon?” Phoenix can only wonder how long Miles has been awake. “Lunch then?”

“I can make us something.”

That’s not exactly what Phoenix had in mind, but he can’t exactly make Miles breakfast - or lunch - in bed, when he’s stuck hobbling around on crutches.

They’re still both a little reluctant to get out of bed, but eventually they can’t excuse delaying any longer, and Miles helps Phoenix up. Phoenix wonders if it’s just his imagination that Miles is a little handsier than usual and his touch lingers a little longer. By the time they’re both dressed and ready, it’s after noon.

Phoenix hobbles after Miles into the kitchen and sits down at the bar. “When my foot’s better, I promise I’ll do all the cooking and cleaning for a month.”

Miles pauses mid-step, and Phoenix belatedly realizes what he just suggested.

“You don’t have to,” Miles says, without looking at him. “I’ll have to help out anyway so you don’t mess up my kitchen.”

“Hold it!” Phoenix says on principle, but he’s not sure it��s actually a no.

“Objection overruled,” Miles says as he crosses the kitchen.

“You’re not the judge!”

“It’s my kitchen.” Miles smirks like he knows he’s won the case.

Phoenix has some impulse to kiss away Miles’s smirk, but he’s all the way on the other side of the room, and things are going so well, Phoenix is hesitant to push his luck.

#v writes #outtake #Ace Attorney #Phoenix Wright #Miles Edgeworth #WrightWorth #NaruMitsu #another scene I ended up dropping from In Defense of the Guilty #there's another scene I'll be posting as its own fic soon (and a few more that have been recycled into another fic also coming soon)#this one doesn't really work on its own but I couldn't leave it to molder in the scrap heap #I'm surprised I didn't post it with the other outtakes #I'm still here and still writing!

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autisticlancemcclain · 1 year

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“Jesus – fuck!” Keith yanks down on the yoke with all his might, making their little pod rear back, missing the gigantic asteroid by mere inches. He watches with wide eyes as the asteroid continues rocketing by, acutely aware that he nearly smashed the pod in everyone in it.

There’s a tense, speechless silence in the pod for a moment, everyone aware of how close they were to becoming Actual Space Debris, before Romelle speaks up.

Because of course it was Romelle.

“Maybe focus on keeping us not dead and daydream about gay reunions later,” she says drily, and Keith bites back a scathing response, because he realises he has absolutely no leg to stand on, there.

“My bad,” he says instead. Romelle rolls her eyes fondly before decking him lightly on the shoulder.

Well, it would be lightly, were she not an Altean. But she is, and Keith has to tense every muscle in his body to keep from crying out in agony like a loser.

“Wait, no, not your bad,” Krolia says.

Romelle blinks at her. “Okay, I get he’s your son and all, but it very much was his bad.”

“No, I got a signal for a second!”

Keith whips around, staring at his mother with wide eyes. “You got signal? Seriously?”

“Yes! I think it was the magnetic flare from the asteroid! Get close to it again, I might be able to hold the signal long enough to broadcast!”

Keith does not waste a moment. He turns the pod around at lightning speed, pushing it as fast as it will go to catch up to the asteroid, carefully avoiding its surrounding debris, which is a lot harder than it looks, and causes a significant amount of turbulence. Which, of course, sets Kosmo off, howling at the windows and scratching at anything he can reach, on top of the deafening grinding sound of surrounding space rocks smashing into each other at high speeds, and the crackling of the comms they are desperately trying to make work.

“Anything?” Keith yells over the chaotic noise of Every Sound At Once.

“Yes! The signal is getting stronger! Once I can get it to connect, it should maintain itself, so keep close just a little longer!”

Keith grits his teeth, wrapping both hands around the yoke and ignoring the voice in his head – that sounds suspiciously like Lance – that makes a dirty joke about the position. He just focuses as hard as he can, trying to keep as close to the asteroid as he can without smashing the ship into it or getting smashed by all the debris travelling at several hundred miles an hour.

“Closer!” Krolia shouts.

Keith resists the urge to tell her that he’s closer to the asteroid right now than he’s ever been to any parental figure in his life, because that would be uncalled for and also rude and he is a Mature Adult, now.

He nudges them the slightest smidge closer, praying to the universe at large that the thrusters don’t give out, and finally Krolia shouts in success.

“I got it! I got Voltron! Pull back!”

With great relief, Keith does, putting as much distance between them and immediate mortal peril as he can. Once the asteroid is far enough away that Keith no longer feels his heart attempting to pound clean through his chest, he slumps over the controls, repeatedly reminding himself that this is, at the very least, better than the goddamn motherfucking bitch-ass space rift.

(Which is, honestly, a very low bar. Contracting E. coli from getting a swirly would be better than the space rift. But still. Small victories, et cetera, et cetera.)

“Um, hi?” comes a voice Keith hasn’t heard in two fucking years, and he almost cries in relief.

Well, not almost. There are tears streaming down his face. But he feels he’s pretty justified, so it’s whatever.

“Pidge!” he calls, ditching the pilot’s seat and fully running over to where Krolia sits, radio holoscreen up and working.

His old teammate gapes at him. “Keith?!”

Keith grins, soft and happy. “Hey, man. I missed you.”

She stares at him in silence, for several minutes. Keith lets her gather herself, even though the silence is getting real awkward real fast.

“Why do you look jacked as hell?” is what Pidge decides on, and God, it’s been so long since he’s heard a dumbass remark that’s definitely a poorly disguised roast, somehow. It feels like home.

“Because I am jacked as hell. I spent two years in Actual Hell –”

Romelle glares at him. “Quit talking shit about my actual place of residence –”

“Your place of residence imprisoned me for two fucking years I will talk all the shit I want –”

“I can beat you up, Kogane, try me –”

“I can handle a beating and still run my mouth, M’lyoy, so I will try you –”

“Children!” Krolia barks, and they both snap their mouths shut so hard there’s an audible click. “We have desperate, time-sensitive information. You have been bickering for three straight days. Can it, or so help me, I will turn this ship around.

“Goddamn, Kogane,” Pidge says after a moment, “someone just got told off. What, did you fuck off and find your mother or something?”

Keith blinks. “Yeah. How’d you know that?”

“How did I know that – I was joking, dude, fuck! Is that actually your mother?”

“I am,” Krolia says. “You must be Pidge. The short one who cusses often.”

Keith freezes. “Ma,” he hisses, “why would you tell her I said that?”

“Three straight days,” she deadpans, completely uncaring.

Pidge glares at him. “I’ll admit I missed you, you bitch, but please know that you are so, so fucking lucky you are not within bayard distance.”

“Noted,” Keith says weakly.

“I can smack him for you, if you like,” Romelle offers, not even attempting to hide a smirk.

“Thank you, strange Altean, whose existence baffles me beyond comprehension,” Pidge says.

Romelle attempts to do as promised, but Keith jerks out of the way at the last second, and then scrambles over to Krolia’s other side to avoid any further assault.

“Coward,” she and Pidge say at the same time.

Man, having little sisters is annoying. Almost as annoying as having an older brother. Keith wishes he was back to being an only child.

(Not really.)

“Can we please get back on task,” Keith says, which is hilarious coming from him, but whatever.

“Right,” Pidge says, face turning serious. “What the hell is going on?”

“First of all, where’s everyone else?”

“Doing other shit,” Pidge says, “I’m on monitoring duty. Coran and Hunk are reworking the control panel for the accelerators, Shiro’s meditating, Allura and Lotor are on their Oriande mission, and Lance is – actually, I have no idea what Lance is doing, but he’s on the castle somewhere. Probably.”

At the mention of Lotor, everyone’s face goes ashen, playful atmosphere completely dissipating.

“Fuck,” Keith says.

Pidge, ever the problem-solver, looks resigned. “It’s Lotor, isn’t it,” she says, and it’s not really a question.

“Yes,” Romelle agrees softly. “He’s a monster. He’s using my people as batteries, to drain our quintessence, to rule worse than his father ever did.”

“And we’ve just led him by the hand to the one place that will make him unstoppable,” Pidge summarizes, looking absolutely miserable.

“Unfortunately.”

“I don’t suppose you have a plan?”

“We don’t…not have a plan,” Keith says. “We’ll have the element of surprise, so long as we get back to the castle before he does, and that’s got to count for something. We’ll send you our coords, and we’ll try to meet as quickly as possible? It might be easier to plan with the whole team present.”

“Sounds good,” Pidge says, immediately pulling up a few dozen screens and schematics. Krolia quickly types something on her keypad, and Keith watches as it pings over to Pidge. “Oh, hey, we’re actually not that far away. Maybe a couple hours, if we gun it towards you? And Allura – God, I hope she’s okay – won’t be back until the end of the day, so that timing works out. I’ll tell Coran we need to get moving and fast.”

“Thank you, Pidge,” Krolia says.

“No problem, Ms. Keith’s Hot Mom.”

Keith sighs. Romelle giggles. Krolia looks amused.

“I forgot how annoying you are,” he mutters. He doesn’t need to look to know Pidge is sticking her tongue out at him, but looks anyway, just to prove himself right.

“Well, I look forward to reminding you, booger-brain.”

Keith opens his mouth with the full intention of calling her a roach-face, but then remembers that he is a Mature Adult, and decides he will instead graffitti it on her workspace as soon as he gets back, like a real man.

“Bye, Pidge,” he says, and reaches forward to swipe through the holoscreen.

“Hey, wait! Don’t hang up yet!”

Keith pauses, looking at her expectantly. “Yeah?”

The playful, teasing expression that came back for a moment when they were arguing has melted from her face, and she looks serious again. Nervous, even. “Um, something… happened, while you were gone,” she starts, and Keith immediately jumps to the worst possible conclusion.

“What happened to Lance? Is he okay? Is he hurt?” he asks in a panic.

“He is not dead and also not injured or maimed or anything,” Pidge says, which is very different to ‘why, of course not, Keith, Lance is safe and happy and healthy’.

“Spit it out, Pidge,” he orders in his Patented Black Paladin Voice.

“I can’t really explain it. I’m just gonna – I’m gonna send you a link, and you’re going to watch the whole thing and not tell Lance I sent it to you, okay?”

Keith swallows roughly. “Just tell me what happened, Pidge.”

“Okay, Keith?” she repeats, and Keith knows he’s not going to get anything else out of her.

“Okay. Fine. Send it to me.”

“It’s sent,” she says, just as a notification pops up on the receiver. “Um, you can hang up now. That’s all I had to say.”

Keith doesn’t even say goodbye. The only thing he can focus on is that receiver. In the background, he can vaguely hear Romelle and Krolia ending the call, but all his attention is on the little notification – a link, like Pidge said. He picks the receiver up carefully, and walks carefully over to his bunk in the back.

“I guess I’m driving!” Romelle says cheerily, trying to goad him into a playful argument (her… interesting piloting skills having been the subject of their bickering on numerous occasions) but Keith barely even hears her. He clicks on the link, space youtube quickly taking up the screen.

In hindsight, Keith wishes he’d waited to watch, waited for Krolia and Romelle to fall asleep, or even dug around for a pair of headphones, or something. Anything instead of playing what feels like a private message – even though this is clearly something that was broadcasted to the universe at large – to the pod at large.

Hindsight is 20/20.

Instead, he watches with wide, horrified eyes as he witnesses the direct result his leaving had on his best friend.

I'm sorry but I gotta go

That’s what he said to me, as he let me go, he left me alone

Keith recognises those words. He fucking – those are his words. The thing is – the thing is, that contrary to what he knows everyone else thinks, Keith didn’t leave for the Blades after a few days of private introspection.

He talked to Lance – to his right hand – about the issue for months. They made the decision together. Lance knew every feeling, every need running through Keith’s brain, and consequently, Keith knew every thoughtrunning through Lance’s.

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vodid · 3 months

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oh the urge to take this extremely obscure term and run away with it to slap on a blitzbee fic...

#where was this when i was naming vulnerability! /j /j it was always gonna be vulner lol #but its the fact neither bumblebee or blitzwing talk about their experiences until they find each other that makes me think of it #may recycle into a chapter title but that feels more hidden than a fic title #grrrrr #time to make another blitzbee fic about mental troubles and abuse! <3 /j

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thequeenofsarcaasm · 1 month

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Let me present to you the last thing I will ever write Canary in a coal mine

I will never come up with anything better so why even bother? If you read it, please pay attention to the details. I channeled my inner Isayama for this. Will probably fail my internship because I was too busy brainstorming.

Summary:

In which Gojo is an award winning young author, who in order to write his last book, what he believes will be his magnum opus, decides to seek out and approach a highly sought after sex worker on whose experience he hopes to be able to base his novel.

Extract:

"Hello, pretty boy. What brings you here?” he purrs, body now resting on the flat scene. It’s like a perverse song, the chant of a siren, but also warm like the summertime. Perfect. So perfect that he sounds fabricated, no longer human. He’s an accident begging to happen. A storm fighting not to break.

“I’m writing a book,” the protagonist says. Eyes glimmering with mirth and perhaps even arousal.

“Oh. Interesting. What kind of book ?” the flying man asks, eyes widening shyly, lips adopting a slight “o” shape to show interest, but only for a second, short enough to avoid breaking character. Everything about him is fake, but he can be made anew.

“A book about you.”

#This shit is almost one year in the making #technically #it’s an old idea I recycled #I’ve been losing sleep over it #avoiding plot holes is hard yall #gojo satoru #geto suguru #satosugu #goge #gego #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfic #stsg fic

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snakebites-and-ink · 2 months

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Whumper-Turned-Caretaker CYOA 2

CW for the series

You chose to let them sleep undisturbed.

You decide to let Whumpee rest. Goodness knows they need it. And getting enough rest is important for any sort of recovery, right?

You leave the stairway and close the door behind you quietly, leaving them to sleep in peace. In the meantime, you double-check the supplies you have. The first-aid kit and the fridge are both fully stocked. You scrounge up some clean clothes that are about Whumpee’s size and will probably be comfortable on them. All set for now.

After giving them a few hours, you go check on Whumpee. They’re awake now. Their wide eyes were on you the moment they heard you open the door. You head down the stairs, trying not to appear menacing but knowing they’re probably scared anyway. You give them a smile. “Hi, Whumpee.”

“Hi,” they respond fearfully, shying away from you. They’re visibly afraid; you can’t blame them, given what your interactions with them are usually like.

You’re not going to lie to yourself, you like the fear. Now that you’re trying to help Whumpee get better, however, it’s probably no longer a good thing that they’re scared of you.

The sleep seems to have done them some good at least; they seem fully alert and the circles under their eyes have faded a good deal. Great. Time to figure out what kind of care to give them next.

>>bonus poll<<

Taglist:

@kabie-whump, @whumpanthems, @whumpsoda, @3-2-whump, @generic-whumperz

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navnae · 1 year

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Winner’s Luck (18+)

Paring: Steve Harrington x Eddie Munson

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Sub Steve Harrington, Dom Eddie Munson, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Dom/sub, Cock Slut Steve Harrington, Cock Slut, Rough Oral Sex, Praise K!nk, Steve Harrington Has a Praise K!nk

Summary: Steve gets a treat from Eddie if he wins the basketball game.

Steve had the ball in his hands anxiety running through him. Eddie’s words replayed in his head as he observed the basketball hoop. Steve knew that everybody was watching him and the entire gym fell silent. He needed to score one more point so his team could win. Steve got into position to get a clear shot of the hoop.

‘You’ll get a treat, if you win tonight.’

After taking a deep breath Steve took a step back and threw the ball. It went in successfully and the gym erupted with cheering. His teammates lifted him up onto their shoulders making it easy for him to see into the crowd. Steve was able to spot Eddie and he was clapping his hands a long with everybody else. A smirk played on his lips as he met Steve’s eyes, it felt like they were the only people in the entire world.

Both of them exited the gym quickly like they were in a rush to leave. Steve was the one doing most of the rushing he pulled Eddie by his wrist and dragged him towards the car.

“Why are you in a rush, Harrington?” Eddie laughed when Steve struggled with the keys. He tried to put the keys into the ignition but he failed with his shaky hands disappointing him.

“I’m not in a rush. I just want to get home before traffic gets bad.” Steve said while finally getting the keys situated and he started the car. Eddie chuckled lightly as he slowly put his hand over Steve’s thigh. He shivered under Eddie’s touch and lustful gaze, Steve didn’t think he was going to be able to drive if Eddie kept this up.

“There’s no need to rush, sweetheart. You’ll still get that sweet treat that I promised.” Eddie’s voice was lower than just a few seconds ago. Steve bit his lip trying not to whine at all the things that Eddie was doing to him. Steve didn’t even read the road signs and he prayed that a police officer wasn’t behind him.

When they got back to Eddie’s trailer Steve was already kissing Eddie passionately before they could even enter the door. They made out roughly for a few seconds before Eddie pulled away and he rubbed his swollen lips with his finger. He smiled at Steve’s eagerness tonight or he just liked the idea that he was wrapped around his finger.

“Jesus, what am I gonna do with you?” Eddie sat down on the couch. Steve was still standing with his hands folded over his waist. He wanted to behave for Eddie but his desperation was getting the best of him.

“I won.” Was all Steve could say without stuttering. Eddie already knew what Steve was implying and he nodded in response.

“You sure did. That’s all you could think about during the game, wasn’t it?” Eddie smirked at the blush that came across Steve’s face. Eddie could tell just by the way he was playing on the court that he put a lot more effort into this game than into any championship games. Eddie couldn’t help but feel proud that his words made Steve so determined.

Steve only nodded his head. He was to embarrassed to actually admit that he was craving anything that Eddie could give him. Eddie shook his head with a disappointed expression.

“Earlier you were being such a good boy. I asked you a question and I need you to answer it.” Eddie said sternly and his sweet smile from before was gone. Steve hated how much he liked being scolded and told what to do. If Eddie could read his mind he would absolutely be disgusted by him.

“Y-yes. I couldn’t think about anything else. You’re always what I think about.” Steve didn’t mean to over share and the blushing was getting worse. Eddie raised a brow at the new information from Steve, now he was even more intrigued.

“Is that so? Enlighten me.” Eddie was loving the desperation and frustration on Steve’s face. Steve wasn’t in the mood for much talking that’s why he almost swerved off the road less than thirty minutes ago. He was on the verge of tears because while they were talking his erection was getting so tight inside his jeans.

“Eddie… my treat-“

“And you will still get it. Just tell me what you’ve been thinking about. You can do that for me right, baby boy?” Eddie reassured Steve with a smile. Steve was burning up at the thought of what he was going to tell Eddie. Over the past few months his thoughts became filthier the longer they were together.

“I think about you… a-and you’re body. Most of the times I think about how good you,” Steve paused at the end of his sentence. He was just so embarrassed by what he was saying and the urge to hide his face was eating away at him. Eddie waited for Steve to finish his sentence since he trailed off.

“How I?” Eddie pushed Steve to continue what he was saying. It wasn’t like he’s never heard Steve say anything that he couldn’t handle, he didn’t know where this shyness was coming from. Steve hesitated at first but there was no need for him to waste time.

“How good you… fuck me.” Steve mumbled a little bit. Luckily Eddie heard him so he didn’t need to repeat himself. Eddie was very satisfied with Steve’s answer and now he wanted to end his suffering.

“That wasn’t so hard now was it? Well since you’ve been such a good boy you can finally get your treat.” Eddie signaled Steve over to him and motioned for him to get on his knees. Steve got in between Eddie’s legs rather quickly shocking both of them in the process. Eddie almost forgot about how effortlessly cute Steve was, the way his big brown eyes looked up at made his actions less sinister.

“Before we do anything, take off your jersey.” Eddie instructed. Steve didn’t realize that he still had it on but he took it off in one swift motion. Eddie did the same with his shirt and right after he took Steve’s jersey to put it on himself.

“I don’t want you to ever forget that I’m your biggest fan, Harrington.” Eddie said happily. Steve thought it was impossible for Eddie to look even hotter but there he was in Steve’s jersey looking like a model. He silently told Steve that he could do what he wanted and Steve was internally jumping with joy.

Steve unbuttoned Eddie’s pants and pulled the down. His underwear came down with them letting his cock free from his pants. Steve wrapped one of hands around Eddie’s base and slowly started stroking it. Eddie groaned at the painfully slow pace that Steve was going at, after a few strokes Steve gave small licks on the tip and scattered kisses a long the base.

“Shit.” Eddie threw his head back at the feeling of Steve taking all of him into his mouth. Steve felt Eddie’s cock hit the back of his throat and the taste of his precum went down with one swallow. Eddie ran his fingers through Steve’s hair making chills go down Steve’s spine.

“You’re my little winner. I was so proud of you out there, fuck, you’re such a good boy.” Eddie continued to run his hands through Steve’s hair. The praising made Steve moan around Eddie’s cock to no end. Eddie let out a few more groans as he felt the vibrations go throughout his cock. Steve picked up the pace by moving and down with spit coming down on the sides of Eddie’s cock while Steve worked his hands in circular motions.

“Steve… fuck, I’m gonna cum.” Eddie held Steve’s hair in his hand as he was close to coming soon. Steve’s throat felt so good around him and he knew how to work his hands in ways that made him weak. Steve felt Eddie’s cum go down his throat as he pulled away leaving a line of spit between him and Eddie’s cock.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” Eddie said with a shaky breath. He caressed Steve’s cheek softly earning a bright smile.

“Can I get more treats like this after my games?” Steve titled his head like a child. Eddie laughed at his cuteness and both of them filled the room with laughter.

“Absolutely, big boy.” Eddie said before pulling Steve in for a kiss

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strangersatellites · 1 year

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i’ve been missing the universe from my first fic lately, so enjoy this snippet (my best comedic work yet) from tip of my tongue, he’s pulling my hair; i’d do what he wants anywhere

“Henderson, please do not get pizza sauce on my carpet!” Steve yells across his house at the man-child balancing boxes reaching higher than his head.

“Geez, Steve, relax, would you?” Dustin chides, “Why are you freaking out anyways? I have never once seen your house this clean.”

Steve spares a moment to feel a bit caught out. “He’s right,” he thinks.

He follows Dustin into the living room carrying a stack of plates. He is met with a sight he has grown all too familiar with over the years of the kids using his home as their designated hang out. Coffee table pulled out to the middle of the floor so there is optimal seating around its perimeter; Lucas, Mike, and Will already seated and bickering about Will’s campaign; Max and El on his couch trying to choose a movie to watch; and more D&D paraphernalia then he even understands or knows what to do with. The only thing currently missing are the rest of the adults of the group, all of whom are en route, hopefully with beer and other substances so that Steve can get through another night of fifteen year olds screaming until three in the morning.

“No seriously dude, you look like you’ve seen a ghost, what the hell are you being so weird for?” Mike asks about the time Steve realizes he’s moved the cups around the table three times.

Moving to stand at the head of the table Steve claps his hands together and places his hands on his hips in what the kids call his “mom pose”, deciding to make an announcement. They had originally planned on just introducing Eddie as a friend, and then getting a read from the kids before they told them anything more. But now that they have seemed to figure out that something is up, Steve is loath to keep the secret from them.

“Oh here we go,” Lucas whines.

Mike groans and Max and El perk up in their seats.

“Watch it Sinclair. Don't make me put you on trash duty.”

Lucas mimes zipping his lips shut.

“Thank you. Okay gang. I don’t usually ask you guys to be on your best behavior because my home is your home and all that shit. But today Robs is bringing over this guy that I have been talking to so I really need you guys to be cool.” Steve pleads with the group, feeling irrationally jittery even though he knows they can tell he’s nervous and would never do anything to actually jeopardize or invalidate his worries.

The girls on the couch both look like this is the best news they have ever heard. Meanwhile, Will, Lucas, and Mike all look shellshocked. Dustin is the only one who maintains some sense of a calm demeanor. Immediately diffusing the shock with an “Okay.. well we’re missing a D20, does anyone have a spare in a backpack or something?”

Steve just laughs as his panic is so quickly relieved with the normalcy of these kids, who all immediately take to looking under the table and under pillows for the missing dice. He takes a second to be grateful they all are so quick to support one another, himself included.

Steve, shaking off his shock, responds, “You know what? I think you guys actually left some here last time you came over to play, let me go grab them.”

“Sweet, thanks mom!” Lucas says to Steve’s retreating form, earning himself a middle finger over the shoulder.

On his way down the hall he hears the doorbell and the sounds of Jonathan, Nancy, and Argyle joining the party and making themselves at home. Steve thinks the most home this house has ever felt is when it is full of these kids and these friends.

Walking into his spare room Steve rifles through the top dresser drawer that has turned into some kind of makeshift lost and found, letting out a victorious “aha!” when he lays his hands on Dustin’s missing D20 and the various other matching D-something’s.

He stops in front of the mirror one last time on his way out to give himself a pep talk before Eddie comes over. It's not that he’s nervous to see him, but the fact that Eddie is essentially meeting his family today, and everyone that's important to him. Logically, he knows there is literally no way they won't like him, but a little bit of fear permanently stays lodged in his chest these days and today it's chosen to take root in this situation.

Making his way back to the rowdy table he drops the dice in Dustin’s hand with a flourish and goes to check his phone to see if the rest of the group are almost here. He is broken out of his task to Dustin’s “What the fuck?”

Turning to see Dustin still standing stock still with the dice in his hand Steve makes to reprimand him for his language before getting cut off with “These are Eddie’s.”

Steve freezes. Approximately a million thoughts and questions start running through his head, the most prominent he asks aloud, “How do you guys know Eddie?”

By now the rest of the party has clued into the situation, Lucas chiming in, “Eddie’s our DM when we play at Hellfire. How do you know Eddie?”

Steve stutters, trying to connect the dots.

“Oh my god,” Dustin screeches, “Eddie said he lost his customs after he was playing with a hookup. Was it you?”

Steve has about three seconds to be offended that Eddie referred to him as a “hookup” and to think that he needs to text Eddie a warning before the doorbell rings.

This time, everyone freezes, Steve sees the moment that the kids all suddenly remember that Steve said Robin was bringing a guy over.

Steve, still in shock, is rooted to his spot while Mike runs to the door, flinging it open to reveal Robin and Eddie. If Steve had his wits about him, he would be most interested in the fact that Eddie looks really fucking good in his worn old Black Sabbath tee and ripped jeans with his hair up, but as it is he is too busy reeling.

Steve watches with bated breath as Eddie’s eyes flit to all of the people in the room and connect the same dots that Steve did only moments ago. Eddie’s eyes finally land on Dustin’s open palm with his apparently custom DM dice and he goes to say “Oh shit! You found-”

“Your dice.” Steve finishes for him.

Again, he sees the moment Eddie remembers what he told the kids happened to his dice.

“My dice... Yeah.” He brings a hand up the scratch at the back of his neck.

All of the kids shake out of their shock at once with shouts and jeers of, “STEVE was the hookup?” and “Oh my god I can’t believe this is happening,” and from the girls, hushed giggles, the remaining adults all putting two and two together themselves.

Robin breaks the panic with, “I feel like I’m missing something here.”

Rather than rehash the entire event in front of the kids, Steve finally launches back into action and grabs Eddie and Robin and drags them into the kitchen.

“Oh my fucking god!” Steve screeches, dragging his hands down his face.

He feels Eddie’s presence behind him and feels one arm snake around his waist and another come to rest where his thigh meets his hip, and warm lips dropping a kiss to his neck.

“Why are you freaking out, baby? This is honestly the best case scenario. I’ve been so nervous all day about meeting your kids, come to find out your kids are my kids,” Eddie speaks lowly into Steve’s ear and honestly? He does have a point. But-

“I think I’m mostly freaked out that they figured it out before I got to tell them. I was fully prepared to make an awkward introduction and wait for you guys to hit it off. I was not prepared for all of them staring at me asking if I was the hookup you left your dice with.” And now that he thinks about it, maybe the world hookup is the part that is bothering him the most.

Robin seems to have finally pieced together the puzzle, “Ohhh, shit. These are the kids that always come to your D&D nights. You know, I honestly should have put this together earlier. Especially after that time you came into work talking about your dice getting you into some super kinky sh-”

“Robs!” Steve cuts her off.

“Sorry!” She squeaks. “This is just all so funny to me. Like how did none of us put together that the obnoxious kids that play at your house are the same obnoxious kids that play at Hellfire?”

Eddie laughs over Steve’s shoulder. “Yeah, I don’t even have an argument for that one. This seems like a massive oversight.” He says rubbing circles into Steve’s hips. “Well, at least we know your kids love your new boyfriend already,” and Steve just rolls his eyes, able to hear the smirk in Eddie's voice, “Nice save, Master.”

Steve shakes off a slack-jawed Eddie and makes to go back to join the kids. “Well, we may as well rejoin the kids and suffer through the impending torment.”

Robin and Eddie cackle behind him as they make their way into the living room.

Upon seeing the kids already in the throes of their game Steve just stands and looks out over the room at all of the people he loves and is once again, so grateful for each and every one of them and their ability to make him feel so effortlessly comfortable even at his most nervous.

He should’ve known better than to think Eddie would ever let him win though. He’s struck from his reverie, when he hears Eddie, in what is undoubtedly his dramatic DM voice, say, “Hey anklebiters! Do you guys need a Dad? I’m trying to un-single your mom!”

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #gin writes #fin gin #fic tag:#tip of my tongue #shot of gin #this might be rough i honestly haven’t looked at it in months #but it deserves some attention again #bc they’re idiots who love each other #SO much #also this post is code for:#i’m working on my big bang and am not writing anything else new for the time being #so we’re recycling #author does not know shit about dnd #so if this is wrong i literally do not care

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sunshinereddie · 1 year

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ok this idea has been swimming around my head forever so!! hc where richie is an elementary or middle school teacher or wtv and the school decides to do these safety lesson things for the kids by inviting a bunch of firefighters to the school to teach the kids about safety!! at first richie doesn’t really care too much about it, honestly he’s just happy that he won’t have to actually teach for a few hours every day for a week and that he’ll be able to catch up with work...

...until the firefighters arrive, and the one that is assigned to richie’s classroom is a man named eddie, who richie thinks happens to be the (no pun intended) hottest person richie has ever seen.

so for that week, eddie comes to richie’s classroom every day for a few hours and does some activities and lessons with the kids and richie is at his desk desperately trying to work on his lesson plans and reply to emails, but it’s a little hard to focus when eddie is standing directly in front of him, smiling and laughing with the kids and looking... like that.

it’s even worse the one time the kids ask eddie if he’s ever carried a person out of a burning building, and eddie says yes, and so the kids ask how strong he is. eddie laughs embarrassingly and humbly just says “pretty strong, i guess!” and the kids start asking him to lift things to prove how strong he is. even after eddie has picked up a stack of chairs, a desk, and even some of the students (richie watched in amazement as he somehow managed to pick up 4 students at the same time), the kids still aren’t impressed.... until one of them asks “what about if you pick up mr tozier!!!” before richie can even really process what they just said, the kids are running over to his desk and pulling him up from his chair, pushing him towards eddie and begging eddie to try and carry him.

eddie looks almost as embarrassed as richie, his face as red as the fireman’s jacket he’s wearing. “it’s okay,” eddie says quietly. “you don’t have to if you don’t want to...”

but richie can feel 20 little pairs of eyes staring up at him, and he sighs. “no, it’s fine... they won’t leave me alone unless you do it, so, go on then...” eddie nods, and all the kids are eagerly watching, and richie’s just expecting eddie to quickly pick him up and put him down... which is why he’s pretty much lost for words when eddie picks him up bridal style completely effortlessly. the kids all cheer, finally impressed with seeing how strong eddie actually is, and they all quickly go back to their work as eddie puts richie down- and richie isn’t sure who is blushing more, himself or eddie.

over the course of the week, richie can’t deny that he starts to feel something... more for eddie. especially when eddie hangs around a little bit later than he has to after school, or when he comes in earlier to “get things ready” but just ends up talking to richie the entire time, or when richie spends his lunch break with eddie instead of going to the teacher’s room.

it doesn’t take long for richie to finally accept the facts. he has a crush on eddie- a burning crush. now he just has to figure out what to do about it.

#fun fact this is actually the plot to a daisuga fic i started writing like 2 years ago but never actually did anything with so.#plot recycling!!!!!!!#i actually have a bit of this fic planned out #should i convert it into a reddie fic and actually write it??#i do like the daisuga plot of it tho...... daichi iwa and bokuto are the firefighters :3 #hmm we'll see. perhaps i'll write both purely for my own entertainment lmao #bc i do love this idea sjdbfskjbfsk #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #reddie #reddie hc #reddie headcanon #it #it au #it hc #it 2017 #it 2019

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