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The Jake Problem - Part 2 (Jake Lockley x f!reader smut) 18+

Summary: There’s a lot of good ways to tell someone you love them for the first time… and then there’s whatever Jake Lockley is doing. (A sequel to the Jake Problem Part 1, but could be a stand alone too.)

Fluff, smut, angst??

Pairing: Jake Lockley x f!reader, hints of Marc Spector x f!reader x Steven Grant

Warnings: Mentions of abusive relationships, reader was in an abusive relationship, smut (18+ only), fingering, unprotected p in v (use protection), standard Jake Lockley warnings, marking (???), DID, Google translate Spanish, Jake’s not as kinky as he is in some fics, love that Jake but my version is a little softer, is this in character? idk

A/N: I’m so nervous. The pressure to write a sequel to something you guys love so much is unreal, but I’m so glad you enjoyed it! I haven’t written much smut before, so I’m genuinely unsure of how this turned out. But I want to give it a try, and still include my usual cuddly softness and some plot. If it flops, I’m deleting this and pretending it never existed. Second, I don’t speak Spanish at all, so this is Google translate Spanish though I did do some research to hopefully add some authenticity.

—–

The thought comes to him as he watches you wander the flat one morning in nothing, literally nothing, but one of his button down shirts. Jake loves you. In the few weeks since what he, Marc, and Steven had deemed the pizza incident, Jake had fallen completely and desperately in love with you. Your notes got tucked into his visor each morning. He eats any food you make him. Once he even made a sorry attempt at cooking for you, much to Marc’s amusement.

But he hadn’t told you he loved you, hadn’t even admitted it to himself really. Not until today.

slightlyrebelliouswriter23

No Drug Like Me | Jurdan Sex Shop AU

Written for Jurdannet Roulette (hosted by @jurdannet and @jurdannetrevels ) with my badass revel group @hazelsheartsworn @figonas @lizziebxnnet and @laequiem aka The Dick Clique <3

Anon asked: “can you write a fic about the whole jurdan fetish store tail thing”

DEDICATED - TRACK 04

Summary: The tail, full and fluffy and tickling the backs of my knees, perforates between my cheeks like some kind of beautiful perversion of punctuation.

Rating: E is for Everything Wet. Including Jude.

AN: This fic is part of a collection of vignettes, wherein post-canon Jude and Cardan experiment in (and outside of) the bedroom with the help of a mortal world sex shop called Dedicated. You do not have to read the stories in order, though if you read this one and desire more smutty goodness, the other tracks to this sexy album are linked below.

Dedicated Masterlist | AO3 | Personal Masterlist

No Drug Like Me - Part I

Tonight is a windless night.

I know as soon as I heave open the window of this storied chamber. A thick layer of dust billows up at the disturbance, making me cough and wave my arms about stupidly as I, fruitless in my efforts, try to clear the air.

Keep reading

elephart-hi

Worthy of a Queen | Jurdan Canon Divergence AU

Canon Divergence: Jude decided to take Cardan in small doses during The Wicked King. Lovers AU

Summary: Jude was a fool for try to best Cardan here. She may be a cunning spy and a swords master but the bedroom and lovemaking was his domain.

~~~

“Shall we continue?” he asked in a voice of innocence that certainly seemed akin to lying with how far innocence was from his intentions.

Jude had underestimated Cardan. She got her prize, she had won the battle, but he was going to win the war. With that miserable thought in mind and her pride boiling with anger she spat out her response, “fuck you.”

Cardan’s chuckle was dark and dangerous as he said, “with pleasure.”

Rating: M is for mature and mad filthy (but ends sweetly)

AN: This is my first ever fic!!!! And of course, it's Jurdan and of course, it's smut. No one is surprised. Shout out to Amber and Hannah for being my beta readers and convincing me to post this. And shout out to @slightlyrebelliouswriter23 who's beautiful writing made me go fuck it and sit down and write something myself which I've always wanted to do, so thank you keep being wonderful.

Please let me know what y'all think! I have ideas for a whole fic for this so if you want that tell me.

set during the Wicked King

inspired by these sketches

warnings: hair pulling, spanking, and light bondage

writing-prompt-s

The demon lord has conquered the land, and five heroes have been summoned to depose him. The heroes journey towards the demon lord–to discover that he’s built a thriving economy, public healthcare, and the land is more prosperous than it has ever been.

jehanneargentee

It was a clerk outside the capital that explained it to them. They had decided to capture her because her tiny horns bespoke a touch of infernal blood, so she had to be carrying something important, right? Turned out to be crop records of all things. She had been absolutely indignant when one of the heroes had tossed a ledger aside, snatching it up and brushing dirt from the pages. “Idiots! Crop records are important! They show weather patterns, predict tax income, give figures for where and what relief is needed when things change for the worse. That’s the problem with you muscle bound types, you don’t understand how things -work-.”

Mirae tried to smile, the young woman was pretty if you ignored the horns and golden eyes. “Well, why don’t you explain it to us? Why does a demon lord care about disaster relief and taxes?”

The clerk gave Mirae a skeptical look, then looked at the drawn swords of two of the other heroes and turned back to Mirae as the best of a bad lot. “Because Hell runs on the souls of the damned, and people can only be damned if they choose to be evil.”

Mirae frowned, “But if people are hungry, they’ll steal to feed their families.”

The clerk nodded, “But that’s desperation, it’s not evil.” Mirae frowned more in frustration, “He should be making it illegal to go to temples, or ban healers to force people to break the law.” The clerk sighed, “Once again, desperation, not evil. Turning to prostitution to feed your kids isn’t evil. Lying to avoid execution isn’t evil. Working holy-days, eating forbidden food, breaking laws to save lives Is. Not. Evil. Evil has to be a choice. An uncoerced choice to do unnecessary harm. Oh sure, under the old system we got the souls of a few nobles who enjoyed being at the top and hurting people. But NOW?”

The clerk grins, and the grin seemed to have a few too many teeth. “Now people have a CHOICE. They choose to torment their neighbors, or to steal from taxes that would feed the poor, or to attack those who are weaker. Not out of hunger or desperation but out of their own pride… “Before we fed on a few nobles a year… now we get plenty of ordinary people as well.

“And now… we get heroes.”

littleannoyingbluebird

I would read this if it was a book/fic

the-modern-typewriter

hey! i really like your work :) could you write about a spy hired to kill the antagonist, then being caught and beaten up but realizing the (flirty) antagonist isn’t a bad person, his employers are (don’t know if that makes sense haha)

“Tch.” The antagonist tutted, crouching down in front of the spy. “I told them not to touch your pretty face. They’ll suffer for that.”

The antagonist traced the spy’s split lip with their thumb, and the spy was tempted to bite, just for the audacity. But they didn’t get this far without learning when to pick their battles. Any reprieve to catch their breath, to steel themselves, to not be in pain would only make them stronger.

“I can handle the face,” the spy said. “I’d have preferred they kept away from my internal organs.”

The antagonist hummed, gaze dropping down. They hooked their hand around the hem of the spy’s shirt, lifting it to assess the damage. “You’ll live. No internal damage, just a few broken ribs.”

“You a doctor?”

“As if you don’t know.” The antagonist gave them a half amused, half chiding look. “You know all my secrets, don’t you, gorgeous? Your employers wouldn’t have ordered you kill me if they didn’t think you’d got everything of value from me alive.”

The protagonist did know. The antagonist had indeed been a doctor for many years, before they vanished into the ether and became the creature in front of them now.

“So, don’t worry.” The antagonist dropped their shirt. “I’ve never killed anyone by accident.”

The protagonist knew that too. Maybe, if they didn’t know that, didn’t know as much as they did, the job would have been successful. But, instead, they hesitated. They were a spy, their job was focused on gathering intelligence, making sure the right people on their side had the right information at the right time. It was rare to get a kill order. There were assassins better suited to that line of work.

But the antagonist was a rare creature, difficult to get close to, and there had been a shot. A shot that the spy had blown. Because they were dumb enough to think…

“Tell me.” The antagonist stayed crouched in front of them, voice low, as if this was an intimate conversation just between the two of them and there weren’t a dozen armed guards outside the door. “Why did you hesitate?”

The spy said nothing. They kept their expression blank on instinct.

The guards who had interrogated them had plenty of questions - who are you working for, how did you get in, what have you told your people, who are you - but the question of why they had hesitated hadn’t come up. It had been the smallest of seconds, just long enough for the antagonist’s sharp gaze to cut to them in the rafters and for everything to go to hell. The spy’s own people wouldn’t have guessed at hesitation.

The antagonist smiled, crooked at one corner, at the response.“Oh, come on. You could have killed me. I’ve looked up your files - you’re very good. More than capable of making the shot. Excellent scores on all your tests. No need to be stoic, I’m very impressed. Any schmuck can cause pain, but you…”

“Maybe I’m just good at tests.”

“They wouldn’t have sent you after me if that were true.”

The spy said nothing, because there was nothing they could say. The antagonist was absolutely correct.

The antagonist sighed, getting up and going to the metal table in the corner.

The spy tensed, expecting them to return with a knife or something else equally unpleasant. The antagonist returned with a damp warm cloth that they used to start dabbing the spy’s face clean of blood.

It was probably a trick. A different ploy to pain, one that the spy would really have to be an amateur to fall for. Still.

“You’re right,” the spy said, softly. “I know all your secrets. Of course I couldn’t kill you.”

The antagonist paused, their stare piercing deep into the spy’s soul. The spy held the attention calmly despite their pounding heart. The antagonist’s hand started moving after barely a falter, meticulous and gentle in its care. The warm cloth, combined with the cool fingers, felt delightful against the spy’s aching skull.

The spy pushed the feeling away.

“Let me go,” the spy pressed, leaning in, the words barely above a breath. “You don’t want me dead, but you know what they’ll do to me. My face will be the least of our worries.”

What the spy had learned was that the antagonist had been a doctor, a brilliant surgeon, and then one day they vanished. Taken by their new employers. Trained up, polished into something wicked vicious. The pieces had been there before, no doubt, the unflinching ability to look at suffering and cut through bone and muscle if needed. But the antagonist wasn’t a bad person. Possibly lacking any capacity for remorse or guilt, but not bad. They didn’t enjoy causing hurt. They weren’t especially out to screw anyone over.

The antagonist was a figurehead. A shiny symbol of what their employer’s wanted. It could be easier or harder to be a symbol, but regardless one didn’t get much choice in the matter.

“You know I can’t do that. My boss isn’t done with you yet. They want all those not-about-me secrets you have floating about in that clever little brain of yours. Besides.” The antagonist shrugged. “Even if I untied you, you wouldn’t get very far. They’d just drag you back and there’s a line after which ‘roughed up’ will no longer be a good look on you, gorgeous. You’re fine.” The antagonist had such a terrible knowing in their voice, at odds with that shrug as if none of it mattered. “You won’t be fine if you try to run.”

“I might not get caught. I’m very good. Your words.” They wet their lips, feeling the sting. “You could come with me. Then they really wouldn’t be able to stop us, would they? I bet we’d make a great team.”

The antagonist laughed, but it wasn’t quite so amused anymore. More sad.“You have all the information but I can see why you’re not in the division for applying the pieces of that.” They dropped the cloth, carelessly, now that all of the obvious signs of breakage were gone from the spy’s face. “You know all my secrets, lovely.” The antagonist raised a brow, back to flirty, voice a purr as if secrets were not a deadly thing. “Why would I ever let you go?”

They rose to their feet, entire posture changing into something sleek and dangerous, the reputation to bring down nations, as they buzzed the intercom - promptly rattling off a diagnosis of exactly what their guards could and should do to make the spy break, every weak point they had identified in the ‘examination’, and exactly what not to do unless they wanted to lose limbs. And, when all was done…

The antagonist glanced over them, one hand still holding down the com. “Once you’ve got what’s needed, sedate our gorgeous new guest and bring them to my quarters. I’ll take care of them from there, if you know what I mean.”

There was laughter from outside the room. Ugly, jeering.

There was none of it in the antagonist’s eyes, even as they tossed the spy a wink and marched out.

The next round of questions soon began.

the-modern-typewriter

The protagonist gained consciousness on a bed. A very soft, luxurious bed that felt like heaven - until common sense kicked in at any rate. Common sense hurt almost as much as the protagonist’s ribs.

“Easy there, gorgeous.” The antagonist’s voice drifted from across the suite, followed by the sound of…a record player. Was that a record player?

The protagonist squinted against the bright light, struggling to adjust, before the rest of the room came into focus. It was better described as a suite, dominated by the large bed that the protagonist was laying on. Nope. Restrained to. They were restrained to the bed, how joyous!

“Relax,” the antagonist said. “I’m not going to do anything to you. You’re on the bed because you need to rest and recover from your wounds, and beds are typically more conducive to rest than a chair.”

“And I’m tied to your bed because?”

“Because you’re an international highly trained spy and I don’t trust you?” The antagonist appeared by the bed’s left side, eyebrow raised.

That may have been a fair point. Still.

“That doesn’t answer the question of why I’m tied to your bed in particular,” the protagonist said. “I could have rested somewhere other than your quarters. There must be more suitable places for prisoners you do not trust.”

The guards had continued to interrogate the spy with all of the antagonist’s advice, and when staying conscious enough to answer questions was no longer so viable an option, they’d dumped the protagonist in the antagonist’s quarters as requested. No doubt thinking that the antagonist had some cruel amusement planned. Fast forward, click play, and there they were.

“No,” the antagonist mused. “I suppose it doesn’t.” They skated their fingertips idly up along the protagonist’s abs. “How are you feeling?”

“You know how I’m feeling. You told them what to do.”

The protagonist was hurt in just enough ways for the pain to be maximised, and the lasting damaged minimised. Much easier to keep someone alive that way. Much easier to keep asking them questions. Part of the protagonist was still stupidly grateful that all of their current injuries would heal with time - they’d heard of other operatives who were not so lucky.

“I can make guesses,” the doctor said, “based on my understanding of the human body. But we are all individuals. You seem to be coherent enough to carry on a conversation, I suppose, but then we’re back to the fact that you’re a trained spy. Your pain tolerance is likely higher than most people’s. All this to say, really, do you require any medication to manage your pain?”

“Would you give it to me if I did?”

“Depends how much pain you’re in.”

“You have an unusual bedside manner. Don’t tell me you had me bought here to give me pain medication.”

The antagonist considered them for a moment longer, a thoughtful expression on their face, before they sat down on the edge on the bed. “You are here,” the antagonist said, “because this is one of the few places on the base without security cameras or bugs to record our conversation. One of the privileges of being me.”

“And your employers are cool with this?”

“They appreciate that our working relationship goes better when they do not give me sufficient reason to fight them. Besides, I have manufactured a reputation over the last years should I need it for cases such as these.”

“A reputation?” The protagonist’s mind jolted back to the guards’ ugly, jeering laughter. Their eyes met the antagonist’s.

The antagonist shrugged, speaking lightly. “I find when I am sufficiently cruel to those I care nothing for, I have far more lenience to offer some semblance of mercy to those I can be bothered to invest in.”

It made a twisted, ruthlessly pragmatic sort of sense. The antagonist played the role of monster exceptionally well - indeed, they undoubtedly were one in some capacity. But not exactly the kind that the people around them looked for. Get enough people to believe you are capable of the worst torments, and they’ll start expecting it so much that they no longer feel the need to observe the actual evidence so closely. Once you know something is a monster, who needs to keep trying to prove it?

“And you want to offer me mercy.”

“You offered me my life, is that so surprising?”

The protagonist’s mouth dried to hear it so simply put. They weren’t sure if ‘hesitation’ counted as sparing someone, but maybe in their game sometimes it did. Either way, they weren’t going to spit in the face of the closest, if most warped, thing they had to an ally.

“Don’t suppose your mercy extends to helping me escape?”

“My mercy,” the antagonist said. “Extends to ensuring that you don’t. I did tell you that you wouldn’t get very far, didn’t I?”

“Why?” the spy asked. “What kind of security do they have?”

The antagonist laughed softly. “Nice try.”

A weak, tired smile curved the protagonist’s lip. “Nice catch.”

The silence stretched between them for a moment.

“You don’t want to be free?” the protagonist asked, and maybe it was the pain to make them question so bluntly. “Your employers make you do terrible things.”

“I’m very good at them.”

“You’re not a terrible person.”

The antagonist smiled, but it didn’t reach their eyes. “How far can you truly hope to separate terrible people from the terrible things they do?”

“Far enough for my job to exist. Far enough that you are offering me mercy.”

The antagonist laughed again. Their hand shifted up, carding soothingly through the protagonist’s hair. “This isn’t altruism,” they said. “This is making the most of someone who understands before my bosses decide you’re better off dead.”

“You’ll let them kill me?”

“Perhaps you want me to ask them if they’ll let me keep you as a pet? You are pretty.”

“No - I mean - that’s -” Would that be worse than death? It would give them an opportunity to escape, perhaps, give them time.

The antagonist’s grip tightened in their hair hard enough to hurt, yanking the spy’s head back into an awkward angle.

The spy’s gaze snapped them to them once more.

“You’re not dragging me into your schemes, so don’t even think about it.” The antagonist said, calm and deadly. “You’re pretty, but not pretty enough to die for. Got it?”

“…got it.”

“As I said, terrible person. Terrible things.” The antagonist loosened their grip again. They patted the protagonist’s cheek gently and rose to their feet once more. “I’ll get you some water. You should drink something, make sure you have enough fluids. Food if you can stomach it. Then, get some rest. I’m sure they’ll have lots more questions for you in the morning.”

“Don’t think I missed you avoiding the question and distracting me with intimidation tactics,” the spy called, after their back. “That means yes. You want to be free.”

The antagonist turned the music up higher, pointedly, and started to hum.

The spy…took the tiny win, the confirmation, and took the opportunity to rest. They would need everything they had to make it out of this mess.

the-modern-typewriter

also, can you totally do another really scary male villain (i'm talkin wouldn't want to meet him in a lit, populated area type scary) and a male hero who kinda (...?) knows how to deal with him, like has had history with the villain. if you can make it nsfw with underlying m/m tones it'd make my day~ <3

typical of me, I made the characterisation/plot/backstory whatever too long to get to any graphic nsfw content. Sorry? One day...

"Do you know,” Angel said, “the number of times I’ve been dragged out of bed because someone’s called me up with some variety of ‘oh shit, it’s him,’ is getting ridiculous.”

The villain, Majesty, paused at the greeting. His golden stare flicked up, assessing Angel in an instant.

Angel stopped a reasonable distance away, politely, hands by his sides.

The villain had been called other things than Majesty, over the years, never having particularly bothered to sign his work - but Majesty was the one that had stuck. He was the king of crime after all. Currently, judging by Angel’s quick assessment of the situation, Majesty seemed to be looking for some form of information.

At least, that was what the sobbing quivering wreck cowering on the shop floor suggested.

“A travesty.” Majesty’s voice was as smooth as silk, for now. “You need your beauty sleep.”

The voice, Angel found, was one of the clearest warning shots that Majesty gave as to his mood regardless of how the actual conversation was going. It had always been that way. Smooth was good. Smooth waters were not necessarily safe by any means, but only a fool would get in the water with something already showing its teeth. Majesty showing his teeth would be Majesty picking a different voice to mimic, unnerving from the get go.

Angel hummed in agreement, keeping his voice light too as he moved closer. “So it would be good to wrap this up quickly, without too much innocent blood shed, if you don’t mind. What’s the problem?”

Most people who went up against Majesty died by sheer virtue of the fact that they assumed they could beat him, if they were only clever or fast or strong enough. Any attempt to outright attack led to termination. Most efforts to get in his way ended similarly poorly. Traitors may as well have bought their own coffin, nothing to be done about.

But, Angel had found, as much Majesty delighted in pain his larger concern was in whatever benefited him the most. If one presented him with a mutually beneficial solution, and didn’t disrespect the villain in the process, he was usually okay to listen.

Or, well, at least, it seemed that he was willing to listen to Angel anyway. He hadn’t admittedly heard of it happening otherwise.

“No problem,” Majesty said.

“The poor sod on the floor might disagree.”

Majesty smiled, twirling his knife in one hand, before pocketing it. "You know, I had noticed that they’re getting in the habit of throwing you at me like an appeasing sacrifice whenever they think I might do something. Finding some-” his voice shifted for a second to be exactly like Angel’s - “poor sod to scream was only too easy. Who needs a telephone?”

Angel stopped dead in surprise. His mouth dried. “You...this is because you wanted me to see me?”

Majesty’s voice as back to silk, almost a purr. “They’re practically conditioning me to violence.”

“Why did you want me to see me?”

The area around them was silent, empty. Anyone could flee had already done so. There was security, of course, snipers and swat teams and the usual, but they all hovered and circled without getting too close to Majesty’s range of attack. And, well, Angel had never been more than aware of the fact that meant he was alone with the villain.

Majesty leaned back against the counter, the glass broken, though the diamonds in the case were largely untouched. His head tilted to one side.

“I’m curious,” he said. “Do they know our history?”

Angel’s heart slammed, his gaze flicking to the cowering stranger, but he simply shook his head. “Strangely, I don’t advertise the fact that your my...ex, for want of a better word.”

He’d known Majesty in the early days, when he was simply Thane, and before Angel was Angel. It hadn’t exactly been a relationship in the domestic, committed sense so much as series of one night stands that didn’t stop at anywhere near one night. Closer to a few times a month for close to three years. Sometimes their meet ups would be quick, other times whole nights and a day. One memorable time there had been a long weekend getaway. But they had never got involved with each other’s lives - their dynamic not so much as a secret, as simply casual. They’d both been busy trying to get other things to work.

It didn’t even end badly or anything, all of the other things had simply ended up taking more and more of both of their time. Until other things suddenly meant they had something that could be called a professional working relationship.

“Why?” Angel pressed, when Majesty said nothing. “Has someone said something?”

“Do you want them to?” Majesty asked. “Because I have heard your reputation doing rather well from all of this, now you mention it. The man who can leash Majesty.”

Angel’s mouth was definitely dry now. Sandpaper would have felt less harsh.

“I don’t think, uh. I don’t think anyone’s saying that. You don’t really give off a particularly subby vibe.” Angel took a step closer, though it was a gamble, and a raised a brow. “Certainly not to me. Didn’t I just essentially come running when you called? Pretty sure that’s what’s obvious to anyone else too after this little show.”

Majesty tracked his every movement like he was ready to pounce.

Angel stopped in arms reach, tipping his head to match Majesty’s posture. “And if they were saying that,” Angel said, “I didn’t imagine you would be the sort to care.”

“Reputation is not everything in our world, but it certainly helps.”

Majesty’s voice was soft, dangerously so.

Angel could practically feel how wobbly the precipice of safety was beneath him, less a crumbling cliff face, and more a very thin veil. An illusion. That had never been the case when they were together, given the circumstances had been entirely different, but he’d learned to scope where the lines were.

No, Majesty didn’t care what people thought of him in the strictest sense, but he did care about power. People forgetting that led to the whole inconvenient drama of having to put them back in their place again, didn’t it? And who had time for that when there were more interesting things to be getting on.

“And would you rather have to deal with some dumb idiot who isn’t me when you’re freaking out the local populace?”

It seemed to be the right comment to make, because Majesty snorted. He straightened from where he leant. “No. At least you’re pretty to look at when you’re being aggravating.”

“So long as I get sufficient beauty sleep.”

There was something on Majesty’s face, a look that Angel hadn’t seen in quite some time. Not really since everyone began to refer to Majesty as him in a whisper, like they might summon the devil if they spoke too loudly.

Hunger. Want. Lust.

Ah.

“Been a while, has it?” Angel managed. “You have been busy causing chaos.” He wet his lips. “Perhaps it’s time for a break, then.”

Majesty stepped closer, tracing his fingertips up the line of Angel’s throat, studying him. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“On many levels.” It came out quiet, a murmur. It was true. It shouldn’t have been true, given that he’d promised himself that Majesty was an old habit he needed to very much break the second work got involved. “We had a lot of fun.”

Majesty’s fingers stopped beneath Angel’s chin, tilting it up.

“It will not be a card you can use,” Majesty warned, “in our negotiations. If you try...”

“I’m not going to try.” Angel glared at him. “Screw you. You will never be able to buy me. So if that’s-”

Majesty grip tightened, before Angel could pull back.

“Good. We’re on the same page then.”

Angel’s glare softened. His heart pounded all the more wildly in his chest.

This wasn’t how he’d expected his night to go, but...

Even despite everything that had changed for them, the old memories and instincts always buzzed beneath the surface. No one else had ever got him in that way quite like Majesty did. In that, if nothing else, they’d been a perfect fit.

“You going to let them go unharmed?” Angel asked. “Seeing as this wasn’t entirely about work.”

“This is work,” Majesty replied. “Otherwise I’d already have you pinned to that counter, writhing in that maddeningly tight outfit you insist on wearing, Azra.”

It had been a while since Azra had heard his real name, and not his alias, certainly on those lips. A shiver ran down his spine. He held his ground though, because, well, this was work.

“Then as far as work goes, you going to let them go?” Angel inclined his head at the hostage. “They’ve served their purpose, and they’re not going to talk to anyone about this. If they were, you wouldn’t be holding back.”

Majesty waved a hand at the civilian to scatter.

The usual place. Majesty’s voice sounded in his head that time. One hour. Don’t be late.

It only occurred to Angel, later, that he’d never asked exactly why Majesty was apparently willing to play ball with him. At least, a little.

But he thought he knew.

wndrcarol

worship | villanelle | kinktober ‘20

day 23 of kinktober | kinktober ‘20 masterlist

a/n: This is another new topic that I haven’t really written about in any of my blurbs so please go easy if it’s a bit off. Of course, any tips or feedback on this would be amazing! I hope you guys enjoy + sorry for any typos!

pairings: Villanelle (Oksana Astankova) x F!Reader

warnings: dom!Villanelle, body worship, praise kink (maybe? je ne sais pas) oral (fem giving + recieving), fingering

18+ only please!

———

Keep reading

xx-thedarklord-xx

Thine Enemy is Sweet (Part 5)

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four

“Run that by me again,” Harry said as he laid on Malfoy’s floor; the ceiling had been bewitched to look like constellations and he was mesmerized. “You’re saying Ron can just walk in? No invite? No date? Nothing?”

“Longbottom too,” Malfoy said distractedly as the sound of rustling parchment could be heard. Harry wasn’t sure what it was, but he’d been invested in them for an hour.

“That’s bullshit.”

“That’s a pureblood for you.”

“Sounds unfair.”

“Sounds like you’re jealous.”

Harry scoffed. Talking to Malfoy was always a headache.

“How do we get Seamus in?”

When Malfoy didn’t answer, Harry tilted his head back the best he could. His view was upside down, but he could tell that Malfoy was still looking over the paperwork.

“What are you doing?”

“None of your business.”

“If you frown like that anymore, you’ll get wrinkles.”

Malfoy’s brows furrowed as he peered over the parchment. “I’m not frowning.”

“You were.”

“I think you’re lying.”

“Ah,” Harry said slowly and sagely. “But you aren’t sure.”

“Why must you always annoy me?”

“I thought that was your role.”

“Potter.”

“Malfoy.”

“Do me a favour and kindly shut the fuck up.”

Harry huffed before he looked back up to the ceiling. “Why did you tell me to come over if you were just going to be ignoring me?”

“Is baby jealous?”

Keep reading

caffeinewitchcraft

I’m still adding stories to my watt pad, just in case this whole site goes down lol

This is one of my favorite hero (or villain?) stories I’ve ever written :)

ltleflrt

only one bed oh noooooo

I tried to find one that wasn’t also fake relationship, but all the ones I have bookmarked for bed sharing are also fake relationships. But what better way to get stuck in a bed with someone you’re not supposed to be sleeping with, amirite?

Roll With It bysaltnhalo

Summary: For two years, Dean’s been slaving away beneath his boss – many label him a secretary, but he fucking hates that and feels like it only applies to someone wearing a pencil skirt, so he insists on his title of Executive Assistant. And for what? In the vain hope that one day he’ll manage to become an editor for Sandover Publishing, and that he’ll see the manuscript that he’s slaved over since college finally realized in print.

That’s the dream, anyway

.Right now, he’s fucking late.

Dean wants to be an editor. Castiel just wants to stay in the country.

‘The Proposal’ – as you’ve never seen it before.

Review: y’all… I loooooooove The Proposal. So. Much. And this is such a fantastic AU built on its premise. Castiel is such a grumpy bitch, and honestly I don’t know how Dean put up with him for so long before he got to see behind the mask, but I love Grumpy Bitch Cas, so this fic really does it for me lol

(Send me a trope and I’ll give you a fic rec and review)

valtsv

post-apocalyptic wastelands are a criminally underused gay romance setting

valtsv

no homophobia, just 2 lesbians, their dog and the horribly irradiated mutant creatures they encounter during their travels across the blasted wastes of civilization

fucktheg0ds

9 sapphic book recs (that aren’t contemporary YA)

I used to complain about there not being enough bi or lesbian main female characters in books, until about a year ago when I realised there are a fuckload of f/f books out there and it would be almost impossible to read them all.

As a present to you, here’s some good ones:

Historical bi French lady who crossdresses and is an opera singer and swordswoman: Goddess by Kelly Gardiner

Lesbian gladiatrix from Sparta: Gladiatrix series by Russell Whitfield (tw: rape)

Cyber lesbians saving the world: Counting to Zero by A.J. Quinn

Historical? wlw warriors: When Women Were Warriors by Catherine M. Wilson (I’ve only read the first book so far, but I expect the others are just as good)

Lesbians in historical/fantasy harem: Nights of Silk and Sapphire by Amber Jacobs

Early lesbian and vampire lit: Carmilla by J. Sheridan

Historical lesbians caught in natural disaster: Shaken to the Core by Jae

1920s f/f romance turned crime novel: The Paying Guests by Sarah Waters

Light, humorous f/f fantasy: The Second Mango by Shira Glassman

Disclaimer: Some of these have explicit sex scenes, some do not. Some have happy endings, some have ambiguous or not happy endings.

the-modern-typewriter

Stories Continued on Patreon

Hey, I am chipping at my inbox as I am want to do, and I thought it might be helpful if I made a post to let you know which of my tumblr-starting stories I have continued already on my Patreon account. This is because if I have continued the story on my Patreon I am very unlikely to also continue it on tumblr…

Pirates:

1) Adrian and Demarion (ongoing, monthly) On tumblr here and here. On Patreon.

2) Pretty Little Leverage (F/F Pirate Captain captures the Navy Officer’s daughter…) On tumblr here. On Patreon.

Royals:

3) Enforcer and the Sovereign. On tumblr here. On Patreon.

Vampires:

4) Astra and Margot (F/F Witch and Vampire story) On tumblr here. On Patreon.

Antagonist and Protagonist Dynamics:

5) Deaf Hero On tumblr here. On Patreon.

6) Thorne x Mandel (Spy and Villain) On tumblr here. On Patreon.

7) A Courtesy Verse. On tumblr here. On Patreon.

8) Forever After Verse. On tumblr here. On Patreon.

9) Flirty antagonist stronger than protagonist… On tumblr here. On Patreon.

10) Protagonist lost powers defeating antagonist… On tumblr here. On Patreon.

11) Strong Female Sidekick with a Villain who has a crush on her On tumblr here. On Patreon.

12) Protagonist with death powers and antagonist with healing powers… On tumblr here. On Patreon.

13) Villain as Collector of Heroes On tumblr here. On Patreon.

14) Injured Villain, Concerned Hero On tumblr here. On Patreon.

15) Prompt #2 - Company On tumblr here. On Patreon.

Other Antagonist Dynamics:

16) William Buckley (Lackey and Villain) On tumblr. On Patreon.

17) Keiran and Dominic (Lackey x Villain) On tumblr. On Patreon.

jhoomwrites

sci-fi, roommates, destiel :)

There’s a jolt, sharp but brief. Castiel considers whether or not he can sleep through the disruption - there’s still another couple hours before it’s his turn at the helm - but then there’s another jolt that briefly knocks out the lights and artificial gravity and nope, he’s not getting that extra two hours.

With a groan, he forces himself out of his bunk and pulls on the nearest clothes he can find.

The ship is suspiciously quiet as he makes his way to the cockpit. No more turbulence, no systems flicking off before coming back on. The Impala is an older model ship, so it’s entirely possible that she was just being temperamental, but Castiel also knows damn well the only other member of the crew has a tendency to, in his own words, ‘dick around’ when he gets bored.

“We better not be in an asteroid belt,” Castiel grumbles as soon as the door to the cockpit slides open. Dean looks over his chair with an impish grin, and Castiel knows that’s exactly where they are. “Fuck me.”

“Only if you’re good,” Dean teases, though there’s the slightest blush on his cheeks. No matter how many hints Castiel drops, Dean will flirt back but he’s all talk and no follow through. Usually Castiel thinks that’s Dean’s main fault, but then he swerves the ship to avoid a large asteroid and Castiel remembers that this is definitely worse.

“I hate you,” he says, rubbing the last of sleep out of his eyes.

“Take a seat, I could use some help.” Dean blindly reaches out to the other chair to clear it of the clutter its collected over the course of Dean’s shift. A sweatshirt, an empty coffee mug, the trash from at least four breakfast bars, and what appears to be a copy of Busty Asian Beauties are among the paraphernalia that tumble to the ground. It makes Castiel hesitate before taking the seat, wondering just what else Dean was doing while Castiel was asleep.

“You shouldn’t need my help,” Castiel points out. “This is a routine shipment run on a path we’ve flown a dozen times. The asteroids are your own fault.”

“So sue me, I got bored. Like you said, it’s routine. Routine is boring.”

“Then perhaps you should reconsider your career.”

“Nah,” Dean says with a dismissive wave of his hand. “The money’s too good. Besides, I finally have a decent co-pilot to help me avoid the boredom part.”

“You mean indulging your childish impulses.”

“Tomato, tomato.”

Castiel wants to continue quipping at his partner, but he doesn’t want to distract either of them more than necessary. Instead he pulls up the navigation display to help coordinate a path through the maze Dean’s gotten them into.

Admittedly, it is fun, an adrenaline rush and a proof of skill that thrills Castiel on some primal level. Not that he’ll admit any of it out loud, but based on the wide grin on Dean’s face, he at least suspects as much.

“You owe me,” Castiel says when they’re safely through. He flicks on the autopilot for now. “Your terrible driving woke me up early.”

“I’m sure I could figure out some ways to make it up to you,” he shoots back with a wink. The blush is back, Dean’s usual swagger disrupted by his nerves, and it’d be adorable if it weren’t frustrating.

As always, Castiel wonders if now’s the moment to push. To put all his cards on the table and actually proposition Dean. But no, the timing’s not right. Somehow, he knows Dean isn’t quite ready yet, so instead he says, “Make me breakfast while I takeover and we’ll call it even.”

Dean blinks and then laughs, slapping Castiel on the shoulder as he gets up. “Sure thing, buddy. Pancakes with whipped cream, yeah?”

“Yes, Dean. Thank you.”

thesparkandtheking

derek as a kindergarten teacher and stiles as a serial killer tho i never knew i wanted this until now

YEEES HI HELLO AMIRITE??? No this needs to happen I’m all for this

to visit his kindergarten teacher boyfriend over here

aND MESS WITH HIS SHIT

I ALO NEED EVIL STILES BEING A PROTECTIVE IDIOT OVER HIS IDIOT BOYFRIEND

halekingsourwolf

This is a BEAUTIFUL idea. Derek being all soft and sweet and making lesson plans and taking his kindergarteners on trips to the zoo, and dark Stiles finding it all so endearing despite himself, because he’s not supposed to like cute, ok? Cute and he do not mix.

Except they do because every time Derek earnestly asks him out on another nauseatingly perfect date, he can’t help saying yes, even if it gets in the way of this other… activities. And when Derek cups his cheeks and shyly asks if he can kiss him Stiles knows he’s in trouble, knows that flutter in his heart is a big bright warning sign - last exit before you get in too deep - but he’s already nodding and Derek’s kissing him.

And maybe Stiles kisses back too rough just to push things. Maybe tries for hard and fast and dirty because that’ll probably scare the guy off and then he can get back to life as usual, this little segue into dating just a bump in his blood-crusted road. But it turns out Derek likes the rough stuff, damn him, blushing and breathless and beautiful between the sheets, and who knew a sweet-faced kindergarten teacher was even allowed to be kinky and fun too?

And then one day Derek comes to see Stiles so miserable and frustrated because one of his kids keeps coming into school with bruises, and the school board can’t do anything and social services has looked into it and more or less shrugged it off (there’s not enough evidence of wrongdoing in the household) but Derek just knows this kid is being abused and there’s nothing he can do about it.

Stiles, ever the concerned boyfriend, kisses Derek on the temple and casually requests the family’s name. Derek comes by the next week announcing that his student’s abusive mother has disappeared, leaving a full confession of her misdeeds, and that the boy’s going to live with his beloved aunt instead.

And Stiles, something warm and pleased curling inside him at Derek’s relieved expression, just smiles.

sourwolfstories

Hi just wondering if you have any fics with alive Hale family and only a little angst? Please and thank you 😊😊😊❤️

Growing Up With You by WhereAreTheBreaks

It all started with a strange scent in the grocery store, and now Derek can’t imagine his life without the hyperactive little shit that is Stiles Stilinski. He didn’t know why he always felt the need to be close to the boy but his mom’s knowing looks certainly weren’t helping.

the banana bread incident by Thealmostrhetoricalquestion

“Is this a plastic spoon?” Stiles demands in disgust. “You do realise that there’s actual cutlery in the kitchen, right? I’m surrounded by morons who don’t know how to use a kitchen.”

“I know how to use a kitchen,” Derek protests lazily. “It’s just that all the other spoons were dirty.”

“There’s this revolutionary new invention,” Stiles says, widening his eyes in mock-amazement. “It’s called a sink.”

In which there are tiny pink shorts, a kissing gate, a cat called Pumpkin and a plethora of awkward moments.

Recipe for Love by HaleHole

Here’s the thing. While Stiles owns and is the head chef of his mom’s restaurant, he’s not that great at cooking. He knows this, Scott knows this, the few loyal customers that come in on a daily basis know this.

So why the hell had he boasted to that smug, devastatingly gorgeous businessman he’d stumbled into at the morning market that he could whip up some Crab Napoleon without sweating a drop?

(A Simply Irresistible AU)

Cat Got Your Tongue by sysrae

Derek is having a bad day and breaks down on a stranger’s doorstep.Stiles is the stranger. He really doesn’t mind.Also, there’s a cat

The dumb kid that used to follow you around (That’s not what you were). by scarlettletterr

Once upon a time, Stiles Stilinski and Derek Hale were the Best Friends in the Whole Wide World, per Stiles’ saying. Nowadays, Stiles is pretty sure that Derek hates him.Derek is pretty sure Stiles hates him too.

The thing is, neither of them really hate the other one.

the-modern-typewriter

February Book Rec

February Book Recommendation

The Lady’s Guide to Petticoat’s and Piracy, by Mackenzi Lee

A year after an accidentally whirlwind grand tour with her brother Monty, Felicity Montague has returned to England with two goals in mind—avoid the marriage proposal of a lovestruck suitor from Edinburgh and enroll in medical school. However, her intellect and passion will never be enough in the eyes of the administrators, who see men as the sole guardians of science. But then a window of opportunity opens—a doctor she idolizes is marrying an old friend of hers in Germany. Felicity believes if she could meet this man he could change her future, but she has no money of her own to make the trip. Luckily, a mysterious young woman is willing to pay Felicity’s way, so long as she’s allowed to travel with Felicity disguised as her maid. In spite of her suspicions, Felicity agrees, but once the girl’s true motives are revealed, Felicity becomes part of a perilous quest that leads them from the German countryside to the promenades of Zurich to secrets lurking beneath the Atlantic.

modern-typewriter says: This is the sequel to The Gentleman’s Guide to Vice and Virtue (which frankly I hella rec too, read it first and fall in love, and then get to this baby because you’re going to have so much fun!). But also…oh this book. It’s a lot fluffier and more ridiculous and more fun than my usual novel recs, but I love it. It made me so happy reading it, and it has pirates and…drum roll please…an asexual protagonist!!!! Yes. You did buy my soul with that. More ace rep please and thank you, nice to know I don’t have to do everything myself. It’s you know…an Ace Book ;) February where I am is dark and so have a burst of light!

If you liked this try/you might like this if you liked: The Gentleman’s Guide to Vice and Virtue by Mackenzi Lee, Summer of Salt by Katrina Leno, Carry On by Rainbow Rowell

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