#minific

—

“Fuck, I need you inside me, like, yesterday.”

Ilya gives a short, breathless laugh into Shane’s neck, biting his bare shoulder. “Wow, wow. So desperate for it, you can’t even wait to give me proper hello.”

“This is your hello, asshole,” Shane grits out, his hands pawing at Ilya’s clothes, as clumsy and greedy as Ilya feels. They’ve barely made it two steps inside their home, Ilya’s bag dropped carelessly at their feet. 

“No ‘welcome home, my wonderful husband’,” Ilya pants, squeezing one of Shane’s pecs. “No ‘how was your trip, love of my life, tell me everything’...”

“Later,” Shane hisses, with a sinful roll of his hips. Ilya growls, crowding him back into the wall of their entranceway, and Shane draws him into his rhythm so they’re grinding like teenagers.

Ilya’s so fucking hard. He’s been hard since the goddamn taxi from the airport, since Shane started texting him all Really missed your dick and I need to be filled so bad, in that matter-of-fact way of his.

“Baby, please,” Shane moans, tipping his head back, eyes gone soft and glistening as his long lashes flutter, pretty pink lips hanging open all swollen and wet. It’s unfair, really.

“Yes, yes,” Ilya manages, nodding jerkily. “I know. You need this cock. I will fuck you like you deserve, lyubimyy.”

A bead of sweat trickles down the nape of his neck, beneath his jacket and t-shirt. Something about being fully clothed with Shane in only his favourite worn-soft grey sweatpants drives him out of his mind. Shane’s cock twitches against Ilya’s hip through the thin material, and Ilya knows he’s wearing nothing underneath. Beautiful, eager little slut.

Ilya’s stomach tightens, balls tingling, electricity thrumming through him. Shit, he’s in trouble. He should pull back. Take a breath. But he just—can’t find the strength to tear away.

They kiss messy and open-mouthed, smearing spit over his lips and chin, and Ilya’s hips thrust clumsily with a mind of their own. He moans at the filthy friction of it, at the solid warmth of Shane’s body under his. He’s missed it. He needs it.

He shoves his hands down the back of Shane’s sweats, hauling him closer and shamelessly groping his ass.

“Fuck, yeah, yeah, please,” Shane moans, clinging to Ilya’s shoulders and trying to wrap a leg around him. “C’mon, baby. Fuck me.”

Ilya’s eyes squeeze shut as his cock kicks, pulsing a hot spill of pre-come into his boxers. He can’t stop grinding forward, chasing that too-much-not-enough, Shane squirming and whining as they pant into each others’ mouths. Ilya grips his ass tight enough to bruise, shakes his cheeks a little to feel them jiggle, then parts them.

His fingertips brush Shane’s hole, and oh, fuck. It’s soft and open and so fucking wet, and it yields so sweetly under his touch—

“I got ready—” Shane gasps, and that’s it.

The orgasm slams through him, stealing his breath and leaving him humping forward gracelessly, driving Shane into the wall with the force of it. He buries his flushed-red face into Shane’s hair, moaning when the familiar scent of his shampoo sends another violent pulse through his body. It feels endless, spilling and spilling into his pants, the filthy-wet slide of his boxers over his sensitive cock only drawing it out as he mindlessly ruts against Shane.

“Oh my god,” Ilya groans weakly.

“Oh my god,” Shane echoes in disbelief, but he holds him close as he quivers through it, shoving his knee up for Ilya to ride it out. His big hands sweep soothingly over his back.

Ilya swallows when the aftershocks fade out and a quiet pause settles between them. It’s Shane who pushes him back, forcing him to meet Shane’s eyes. There’s an apology on his lips, but Shane kisses it away, cupping his face with both hands and laughing sweetly into it.

“You laugh at me,” Ilya complains, but he’s smiling too, dazed and stupid and lovedrunk.

“No.” Shane shakes his head, rubbing the tips of their noses together. Ilya winces a little as his oversensitive dick twitches at that. Fuck, he really is in love. “You’re so fucking sexy.”

Ilya smiles wider, chest puffing up, and pulls Shane into a deep kiss. Shane sighs into it, languidly sliding his tongue along Ilya’s, before he pushes at Ilya’s chest again.

“So, wait… which one of us were you calling desperate?”

—

he'd moved in with Robby only a week ago, at this point, and he keeps them very hidden, shoved in a box and stuffed under his clothes in a dresser drawer, one he's sure that Robby doesn't use. it takes an especially hard day and a weary, fuzzy mind to bring himself to pull them out— when normally he just deprives himself, shoves it down.

when he lets himself feel a little smaller, though, he's got two plushies— a bear and a bunny— and a blue sippie. sometimes he wishes he had a teether, maybe, or possibly a paci, but his cheeks burn in embarrassment at the thought. he just sucks his thumb instead, sometimes, when he needs to feel a little fuzzier.

thinking about lighter, stumbling up to you, the smell of nitro-fuel on his breath (and his shirt - he'd definitely spilled some on himself earlier, though with how unstable he was standing, you were hardly surprised). a bit of a party atmosphere had developed around steeltusk's bar tonight, and lighter had definitely had more than he should have. you had barely joined the gathering for a few minutes, relaxing a bit further from the bar, but as soon as he'd noticed you, he had made a (very wobbly) beeline for you.

"(Y/N)."

his hands went to your shoulder, using you to stabilise himself, even though his weight made you stumble a bit too.

"hi," you laughed, a rare sight to see the champion so discomposed, though he was looking into your eyes with a slightly nervewracking seriousness through those shades.

"we should get married."

That’s what Robby tells himself as he pulls into the driveway early on a Saturday morning. He had driven straight through the night, closing the gap between his hotel and Pittsburgh, ready to be back in his own bed. He texted Whitaker sometime late last night but the kid had never responded. 

Robby doesn’t want to throw him off, but he’s bone tired. He’s missed the safety net of his home. Consistent beds and showers and food. Even if Whitaker is still here and not on his way to work, he will be soon. All Robby is going to do is go and slide into bed for the next several hours. 

Either way, it’s his house. Robby can return home as early or as late from his trip as he wants to. 

When he opened the front door, it was quiet. There’s no one to rush to the door to welcome him back. Which is fine. He hadn’t been expecting a welcome home party. 

Still, it’s odd. If Whitaker does have work today, which Robby is fairly sure that he does, he should be up by now. Moving around and making noise. Maybe the kid is already gone. Robby wasn’t exactly sure what his form of transportation to work was. Another thing he probably should have asked. 

He’s about to call out into the silent home, when the first noise greets him. 

“Oh-fuck-” 

Robby stopped in the hall. 

The first thing he thinks is that he’s pretty sure he told Whitaker not to have the wife over. Amy, he remembered after a moment. That was a clear request he had made before he left.

The second is that he’s mildly impressed that Dennis had it in him to have a hookup in his boss’s house so early in the morning. The kid’s supposed to be at work in an hour and his first priority of the day is sex. He didn’t think Whitaker had it in him.

He’s about to turn and leave, just give the kid the hour before - 

“Fuck, baby, you’re taking it so well.” 

That’s Jack. Robby knows that’s Jack because he’s been unfortunate enough to hear one too many of Jack’s hookups. Hotel rooms at conferences, that one time he was too drunk to leave the house party Robby threw back when they did things like that. 

And it’s Jack. Robby always knows Jack’s voice. 

Curiosity gets the best of him and he can’t stop himself. He peers around the corner, and is greeted with possibly the best sight in a very long time. 

Jack’s got Whitaker in some stupid yoga position. Child’s pose if Robby can recall correctly from the morning he had accidentally walked in on Jack doing his morning stretches. He’s got a pillow under his stump for balance, but with the power of his thrusts, it’s clear he’s not holding back. 

Whitaker’s back is arched perfectly. His knees are spread just barely to allow Jack access to his hole, and his body is dripping with sweat. But his head is dipped low, so he doesn't see Robby hovering at the edge of the living room. 

Jack does. Jack does and started fucking into Dennis even harder, keeping eye contact with a clearly taken aback Robby for a few seconds before addressing him. 

“Welcome home, brother,” Jack grinned. “You’re back early.” 

Whitaker’s head snaps up. He finds Robby easily and his face turns bright red. “Oh my god. Oh my god. Fuck. I’m so sorry Dr. Robby-” 

“He’s fine, pretty boy,” Jack reassured him. His thrusts didn't stop and he grabbed at Whitaker’s waist when he tried to pull away. “No, no. You know better than that.” 

Whitaker turned an even darker shade of red if that’s even possible. “Jack, stop it!” 

“Why? Don’t you want to show Robby how flexible you’ve gotten while he’s been gone?”

“No, I don’t!” He tried to pull himself up but Jack took a hold of his hips, leaving him stuck on his hands and knees. “Jack, come on!” 

“Oh, this has been going on for months?” Robby asked, impressively calm. “Damn. You know, I know I said you could have guests, Whitaker, but I never expected you to bring home strays.” 

Jack snorted, pushing in particularly hard to make Whitaker slip out a sinful moan. “Please. He practically begged me to come over. You should’ve seen the texts he was sending me.” 

“Asshole,” Whitaker snapped. “You were here when I first came over.” 

“I have a spare key. Sorry Robby didn’t tell me his boytoy was housesitting.” 

“I’m not his fucking-” he yelped when Jack smacked his ass harshly before he could finish the sentence. 

“Don’t lie. You know I don’t like it when you lie.” 

Robby dropped his bag on the couch, watching how easy Jack was still sliding in and out of Whitaker. “From the way it’s looking, Jack, he’s your boytoy. Didn’t think you had it in you, Whitaker.” 

“Is that jealousy I hear?” Jack teased. 

Of course it is. Robby had been eyeing the intern for months. He was tempted to just tell Whitaker to come over the night before he left so he could fuck the kid at least once. 

But Whitaker didn’t deserve that kind of treatment. He deserved consistency. Something steady to please him. 

Robby just didn’t think that something was going to come in the form of Jack Abbot. 

“You know,” Jack said conversationally, like he wasn’t still balls deep in the intern. The intern who looked modified and humiliated and was still making faces giving away his obvious enjoyment of his current predicament. “He did such a good job of watching over your place. You want to show him your gratitude?” 

Robby raised a brow. “He did such a good job? I don’t think that would entail getting fucked by one of his superior’s in my living room.” 

Whitaker whimpered and Robby’s already half cock twitched at the sound. 

“True,” Jack conceded. “Maybe he’s the one that should be thanking you. For letting him play pretty little housewife for three months.” 

Whitaker looked mortified at the statement and went to drop his head down, but Jack spanked his ass again. “Don’t do that. You know you’re not allowed to do that. Arch your back more. Now.” 

“Your pretty little housewife is poorly trained,” Robby smirked. “You’d think three months would be enough to get him fixed to your liking.” 

Jack just grinned, eyeing the bulge of Robby’s pants. “Yeah? His mouth came nearly perfect.” 

Robby groaned and Whitaker let out a sound of defense. He finally closed the gap between them, stopping in front of Whitaker. He undid his belt slowly, sliding his bottoms down until it was just his swollen cock in his hand. He sat down on the couch in front of both men so Whitaker was eye level with his crotch. 

The poor thing looked hungry for it. 

“Come on, Den,” Jack cooed. “Show Robby how good you are at sucking cock.” 

Dennis was still bright red but he leaned forward, dropping his jaw, and looked up with pleading eyes. 

Robby wasn’t one to tell his favorite boytoy no. 

It’s been a long few months on the road. Nothing but shitty PornHub videos and the occasional bar hookup that left Robby still slightly unsatisfied. He needed this just as much as Whitaker did. 

Well. Maybe not quite as much based on his excitement.

Dennis’s mouth is heaven. He doesn’t gag once as Robby pushes into his mouth, down his throat. He’s eager for it, greedy. His tongue swirled around Robby’s length and he moaned at the taste. 

“Don’t be a slut about it,” Jack chastised from behind him. “Don’t do it if you aren’t going to do it correctly.” 

Robby brushed the curls back from Dennis’s forehead. “You’re fine. Ignore him. He’s too damn picky for his own good.” 

“You’d be picky too if he was the one trying to jump your bones every night,” Jack said, rolling his eyes. “Little thing is too damn horny for his own good.” 

Dennis whines in indignation at the insult. 

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Robby scolded lightly. “Show me how grateful you are I let you use my house to get fucked in.” 

And show his gratitude he did. 

Robby should’ve known. Dennis always had those soft, pretty lips that he nibbled at. The pout he’d give when someone was annoying him or teasing him. It makes sense that he could suck dick like a pro. 

He opened his mouth wider as Robby slowly started to fuck his throat, hissing slightly at the heat of him. Dennis stayed perfectly still as Robby used him. Tears sprang into the corner of his eyes but he didn’t falter. 

“See?” Jack grunted, picking up on his motions. “Almost as good as a cocksucker as you.” 

Dennis’s eyes widened at the revelation and Robby just laughed. “What? You think-shit-you think you’re the only person Jack’s taken advantage of with his fucking yoga bullshit?” 

“It’s not bullshit,” Jack snapped. “It’s great for mobility.” 

“Yeah?” Robby challenged. “Dennnis, baby, can you arch your back a little more? Give Jack better access.” 

Dennis moved easily, sliding his knees out and arching his back to practically hand himself over to Jack’s cock. Jesus, what a sight that was. Dennis’s stretched hole taking all of Jack, practically fighting to keep him deep inside. 

“Fuck, fuck-” Jack muttered, grabbing Dennis’s hips to steady himself. “Such a good boy, Dennis.” 

Dennis whined, high pitched and needy. Robby felt elation course across his body. He started fucking into his throat faster, harder, groaning at how good it felt. 

“Yeah? You want to be a good boy?” 

The poor kid could only blink up at him, mouth and ass full, blue eyes wet and desperate. 

“He’s such a good boy, aren’t you Den?” Jack cooed. “Just a sweet little cock warmer. Hasn’t even come yet ‘cause he knows he’s not supposed to.” 

Dennis looked up at Robby, hazy and body shivering in pleasure. 

“How’s he supposed to ask when he’s so full?” Robby said, breath hitching as his cock slid over Dennis’s tongue. 

“You want to hear him beg? He’s pretty when he does.” 

Robby pulled his dick out, ignoring the pitiful whine Dennis made when he did. “Ask for it, Dennis. Come on.” 

The pleas spilled out of the poor thing. “Please, wanna come, please, need it, daddy please-” 

Both of the older men groaned at the sentiment. 

“One daddy not enough?” Jack said, hands practically bruising Dennis’s hips. “Such a greedy thing.” 

“Need both,” Dennis pleaded. “Daddy, daddies, let me come, please, I’ll be so good-” 

Robby cut him off by sticking his cock back down his throat. “Get me off first, baby, then you can.” 

It doesn’t take long. Robby’s older, he’s pent up, and Dennis sucks cock like it’s the only thing he wants to do. Within minutes, he spills down Dennis’s throat, moaning heartily, fingers gripping the back of his head. The sight must be enough for Jack because his hips finally stutter, slamming deep into Dennis as two loads of cum fill his body. Dennis swallowed everything, eager and good, just like Robby knew he was. 

Someone, maybe Robby, maybe Jack, gives Dennis the confirmation he needs to come untouched, ropes of cum streaming onto his chest and hitting the bottom of Robby’s legs. 

Dennis collapsed against the floor with a weak cry, leg twitching. Jack pulled out of him slowly and sighed at the sight of his cum leaking out lazily. 

“You’re so wasteful with it. Gonna have to get you that plug you said you wanted.” 

Somehow, the kid still blushes. Like he didn’t just get fucked by both of his bosses. “Jack. Stop.” 

“Relax, kid,” Robby soothed, tucking his cock back in his pants. “He’s right. It’s a waste. Plus, you’d look pretty walking around here with just your plug in you.” 

To Derek, Stiles is the sun and moon, heaven on earth, the end all be all. He is perfect and he deserves the world. Which is exactly why Derek is not letting Stiles settle for him. Not when Derek is literal poison.

Now, here's the twist. Not only does Stiles know all this, the two of them have been playing this really frustrating, really dumb mental chess game of dating. The two of them can usually be found screaming at each other, but it's usually nice things followed by insults.

"Date me, you coward! If you don't, I'm going to start to think I'm unlovable. "

"Don't even pretend like you don't know I love you more than breathing! Your eyes are enchanting, your hair smells like sunshine, and I love you enough to know how terrible of an idea it is to date me. I'd rather rip out my own claws than subject you to the utter bullshit that is my life!"

"YOU BEAUTIFUL, STUPID, SELFLESS ASSHOLE, FUCKING MAKE A LIFE WITH ME!!!"

"NEVER!!!"

"I'm going to marry the fuck out of you in 3 to 8 years and there's nothing you can do to stop me. I'll spend my whole life savings on a nonrefundable piece of jewelry. I will bankrupt myself, so you'll have no choice but to marry me for the tax benefits, otherwise I'll drown in financial ruin." The words are romantic, but Stiles growls it out like a threat.

"Don't you fucking dare."

"I'll do it, Derek. Don't think I won't."

Stiles is over here trying to parent trap the two of them together, meanwhile, a confused, strange man is knocking on his door saying a dude just asked him out on Stiles' behalf?

Not only is Derek sending suitors to Stiles (with bouquets of roses and condoms in their pockets), he's also legitimately happy when Stiles finds someone. Derek loves Stiles sooooo much that the idea of Stiles living a quiet happy life, safe and away from danger actually makes him excited inside, grinning with all his teeth.

And Stiles, realizing early on that Derek fully intends to die alone, is just as stubborn when it comes to Derek's happily ever after as well. Because Derek Hale deserves to be happy, damn it!

Cut to Stiles in the preserve at 3am, shouting "DEREK SAMSON HALE, YOU COME DOWN HERE AND DATE ME RIGHT THIS SECOND!" to a Derek he's cornered up a tree and who's just hissing down at him like a feral cat. "There's nowhere to run, dude. I've lined the base of the tree with pans of homemade lasagnas and you'll have to eat eventually."

"What, you think I'm stupid? If you think for one second I'm tasting the love and care you've baked into what I don't doubt is my mom's recipe, you can forget it! I'm not falling for your siren song, you evil temptress!"

"Fine. Then I guess I have to leave all of my HOURS of hard work, slaving over a hot stove, here in the middle of the forest to be eaten by wild possums, without anyone ever appreciating me or acknowledging how thoughtful I am. It's enough to make me so sad."

Cue Derek dropping down to scarf up 3 whole lasagnas while glaring at a smirking Stiles through the tears from tasting the memories of his childhood again for the first time in over a decade. "You conniving, diabolical bastard." It's not as intimidating being said through a mouthful of lasagna and nostalgia tears.

The closed cervical reduction had gone well. 

Mel just wishes she had been in the room for it - instead she'd been finishing up her charts, thinking about the way she doesn’t know her sister as well as she thought she did and about the deposition that went so terribly and about the way she doesn’t even know what she’s doing all of this for, sometimes, but what else could she be doing? 

She'd asked around for details about the reduction and felt a happy buzz whenever someone indulged her. Then Frank had found her in the ambulance bay later and she asked him about it, too. 

It was his first day back and she hadn’t been expecting him - he’d come in on short notice, which was only disappointing in that she'd planned for his first day back. She'd picked out an outfit, a nice jacket with embroidery along the collar that she'd bought especially and her mother's small pearl earrings. She'd even considered borrowing some of Becca’s nice eyeliner, if she could figure out how to apply it in time. 

Instead he came back to her as she usually is. 

But that's the Doylist explanation. In-universe, there doesn't seem to be any real reason for the Green Lanterns not getting paid for their work- in fact a few comics imply or outright state that the Corps pays its members a salary.

(To make things even more confusing, Hal Jordan seems to have constant money troubles, which implies that being Green Lantern also actively ruins any chance of holding down a day job. Yet the other Earth Lanterns aren't shown to struggle with money or employment as badly as he does. So is Hal just uniquely bad with money?)

Anyways, here are some alternate explanations for why the Green Lanterns don't get paid and/or why Hal is perpetually as financially stable as the average Spider-Man:

A) The Guardians of the Universe are straight up broke. Omnipotent immortals they may be, but they don't have a source of income. It's not like the universe is paying them for protection. Honestly, the blue gnomes are probably losing money by maintaining the various facilities and such used by the Corps.

B) The Green Lanterns do get paid, but Earth is just not developed enough to use intergalactic currency. So Hal and pals do have a lot of money sitting in some space bank accounts, but it does absolutely fuck all for them on their home planet.

@wolfstarmicrofic

Remus held the cottage door open, cardigan pulled tight against the cold. “Ah thank you. So sorry about that. Won’t happen again, officers.”

“Very well. Take care, Mr. Lupin,” the policeman said kindly walking towards their car. 

The moment the car rolled away down the lane. Remus shut the door and turned around.

“Sirius?” he called, far too calmly. “Could you come down to the living room, please.”

“What’s up, love?” called back after a minute as he descended down the stairs.

“Did you know the muggle police were here just now?”

Sirius frowned. “Why on earth would--”

Remus turned to the six-year-old playing cross-legged on the mat beside the sofa. “Harry, my dear boy… Tell Paddy why you called the police?”

Harry looked up, then pointed accusingly at Sirius. “Paddy farted in the lift this morning when he came to pick me up from nursery. Everyone was there. And he said it was me.”

Sirius went completely still, mouth making a perfect “o” .

“The teacher said the police help you when people wrong you,” Harry added, very proudly.

Remus bit his lip so hard it hurt, shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

“Merlin, Harry,” Sirius said, trying (and failing) not to laugh. “I’m so sorry, love.”

...

Later, once Harry was tucked in and fast asleep, Sirius lay sprawled on Remus’ chest, still chuckling.

“I cannot believe I let you convince me to send him to a Muggle school,” he groaned. “Now look. He called the coppers on me.”

“You deserved it,” Remus said laughing fondly, running a hand through his boyfriend’s hair. “You lied.”

“There were loads of people! I panicked!”

Remus kissed his forehead. “I’m so proud of him.”

Sirius grumbled into his jumper. “Oh, of course you are. You love my misery.”