I sincerely hope we get a few more beat downs before the show ends

The Good Bad Boy


PAIRING: Jung Hoseok x Reader

Genre: Badboy! au, fluff

Word count: 1.3k 


The baddie of the town asks you out on a date and what follows is a night of revelations about a bad boy who is a good man 

A/N:  For the anon who requested a Hoseok bad boy AU. Thank you for giving my dead ass something fluffy to write! I LOVE bad boy Hoseok! and I think this is the SOFTEST thing I have written. 


Originally posted by bangtannoonas

“What the fuck are all of you looking at?” he glared at the spectators that had gathered around you two , harshly enough for them to disperse around and resume whatever they were doing. You stood frozen in your spot, tightly clutching your bag against your chest , fingers digging into the leather. Jung Hoseok, the baddest boy in town was standing in front of you and he had just asked you out on a date. With a toothpick dangling from his lips, he was tapping his foot impatiently on the ground waiting for you to respond.

“Listen buttercup I don’t have all day. Is this date happening or not?” he took a step towards you and your automatic response was taking a step back. The process continued until you were pinned against his motorcycle.  His placed his hands on either side of you and leant in close to your ear. He smelled like musk and amber and you couldn’t stop yourself from inhaling his scent. “Is it” his nose grazed your neck “or is it not” he moved back to face you. His eyes studied your face with such intensity that the end result was your cheeks turning a bright shade of pink.

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Originally posted by magiccastles

anon said : can you do a yugyeom enemy to fwb smut where the reader is a bit younger? thank you!

Summary : You say you can’t stand him. He tells you to take a seat then.

Warnings : language, smut

Word Count : 2.8k+

If Yugyeom interrupted the lecturer one more time, you were going to take the stapler off of the desk and staple his lips shut. Okay… not really. That was a really gross thought actually. You discreetly shook your head, trying to get the image the thought had conjured out of your mind.

You had been thrilled to be selected as a TA during your first year of college. The thrill had lessened slightly as the year had progressed. Honestly it wasn’t the job that had lessened the thrill. Everything would have been fine if Yugyeom wasn’t a student in the only class you were working as a TA in.

Yugyeom. College Junior. Majoring in dance. Minoring in music. A complete jerk.

It seemed that he’d made it his job to annoy every serious college student, go to every college party, and to have sex with every hot college girl. And one more thing… what was it… oh yeah! He’d made it his job to annoy the shit out of you.

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Two Liars in an Impala: Deconstructing The Brologue from 11x23

I know there must be meta about this particular exchange up the tumblr wazoo, but not on this particular wazoo blog and not written by me and - honestly - I need to get these impressions out of my head or my poor melon is set to explode. And soon. Thusly, I ask you, please, to bear with me and I thank you most sincerely. And here goes.

Let’s begin straight off with a transcript of the dialogue in question, taking place between Dean and Cas in the Impala as they go for a beer run after they’ve had their last confrontation with Amara in 11x22. That confrontation resulted in Amara exorcising Lucifer from Cas’ body before she, you know, mortally wounded God. Anyway, overarching plot aside, this is all about the Destiel subplot and how it’s been built into a crescendo with every single season. They came so close here and it’s pretty damn glorious to read how cleverly simplistic they are about it. It’s also painful and rather heartbreaking to read between the lines and see how fucking in love these two guys are with each other and neither believes the other feels the same. But more of that in a moment.

Here’s the exchange:

Dean: How you doin’? You good? I mean, you know, the whole Lucifer thing.
Cas: That was just so stupid.
Dean: No, no, no, it wasn’t stupid. You were right. You were right to let Lucifer ride shotgun. Me and Sam wouldn’t ‘ve done that.
Cas: Well, it didn’t work.
Dean: No, but it was our best shot. And you stepped up.
Cas: I was just trying to help.
Dean: Yeah, and you do help, Cas, you know, I… Sometimes, me and Sam, we’ve got so much going on that we forget about everyone else.
Cas: Well, you do live exciting lives.
Dean: Yeah, that’s one word for it. …But you’re always there, you know. You’re the best friend we’ve ever had. You’re our brother, Cas, and I want you to know that.
Cas: Thank you.

If you surface-read this quickly it’s very basic dialogue between two friends, one reassuring the other that his choice was a good choice, that he does help and that he’s appreciated for it. If this was the only scene you ever watched with these two characters, perhaps this is all you’d take from it. You wouldn’t notice that first glance of affection from Dean before he even starts speaking, and you wouldn’t notice the quiet devastation on Cas’ face at being called a “brother”. You wouldn’t feel the pauses Dean takes and you wouldn’t think there’s any more to Cas’ rather short, but at-first-glance earnest, statements. Truth is, I don’t think I could even blame you for not noticing, because you’re not aware of their backstory, you don’t know what those looks and pauses actually signal or where they have their root. So, let’s go root-digging, shall we?

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After the Afterparty || Conor

Conor masterpost found here

Word count - 1,301

Summary - The one where Conor hears you singing.

It was rare for you to find someone who was as passionate about music as you were. There was hardly ever a moment where music wasn’t playing throughout your house, in your earbuds, or simply in your head. You were always singing and dancing to some sort of melody, even if no one else could hear it out loud.

It was this passion for music that made you start a YouTube channel. You only had a little over 200,000 subscribers, but you weren’t in it for the fame. You just loved singing and sharing your voice with anyone who would listen. Growing up the only people who would listen were your parents and your grandma, and that was always enough. You still couldn’t believe that anyone more than that wanted to hear you.

You recently moved to London in hopes of expanding your YouTube career. You knew that a lot of other YouTubers lived in London, and you thought that maybe being closer to them in location would give you a higher chance to collab with them. Your mind swam with thoughts of collabing with dodie or Carrie or Bethan or, if you were really lucky, Conor.

Sure you liked a lot of cover channels that were based in the UK, but Conor made your heart skip a beat. Not only was he a fantastic singer who put so much passion into this songs, but he was also insanely gorgeous and you definitely had an Internet crush on him. You had a feeling though that collabing with him was not in your near future. Hell, you weren’t sure you’d get to collab with any of your dream channels. Regardless, you were loving your new place.

You had only been in your new flat for a few days and were still working to unpack all your boxes. You didn’t hire a moving company so you definitely had your work cut out for you. The one thing you managed to unpack right away was your camera equipment. You wanted to film a cover on the porch of your new place as it overlooked the city, and you thought it would be a nice video background. So, as the sun was beginning to set one Sunday evening, you set up your camera and started the video.

“Hey guys, I hope you liked that new cover!” you said happily. You were planning on putting this bit at the end of the video. “As you can kind of see, I’ve moved house! I thought I’d film this cover and then maybe later once I’m more settled in I can do a bit of a house tour!”

You finished the intro (or rather, outro) and then began your cover. You had your guitar with you and had decided to sing an acoustic version of After the Afterparty by Charlie XCX. It was one of your favorite songs at the moment and you hadn’t seen many covers of it online, so you thought you’d throw one out there yourself.

You got halfway through the first recording and messed up, so you had to start over. You weren’t too bothered except for the fact that halfway through your second try, there was a knock at your door. You contemplated ignoring it, but you didn’t want it to interrupt you again, so you thought it best to just answer. “Coming!” you called as the person knocked again. As you approached the door, you heard a bunch of voices on the other side. Thoroughly confused now, you braced yourself for what you might find when you opened the door.

You were definitely not prepared for who you saw.

There stood Conor Maynard and his brother Jack, along with Joe Sugg and Mikey Pearce. You weren’t hugely into YouTube aside from the covers you watched, but you had seen Jack, Joe, and Mikey in random livestreams Conor had on his channel. “Um, hi?” you managed to say. You were in a bit of shock and it was taking a lot in you not to completely freak out.

“I’m sorry,” Conor said immediately. “I wanted to come over by myself but they insisted on coming.” You quirked an eyebrow, clearly not understanding what he was saying. “Sorry, I’m Conor,” he explained. “These are my friends Joe and Mikey and my brother Jack.”

“Nice to meet you guys,” you said, confused still. “I’m (Y/N). Do you guys, like, live in this building?”

“Oh, right, yeah, sorry,” Conor stuttered. “I live just a floor below you. I, well, we heard you singing-”

“Oh, sorry,” you said immediately. “I can keep it down-”

“No, that’s not it at all,” Conor said quickly. “I wanted to come up here and tell you how great you sound. Like I said, I didn’t want them to come along but they don’t listen to me.”

“We wanted to tell you you sounded good too!” Mikey said defensively.

“Yeah but I wanted to ask if she wanted to collab whereas you just wanted to see if she was hot,” Conor mumbled to him. You stifled a laugh as Mikey scowled at Conor. “So, yeah I don’t know if you know but I have this YouTube channel-”

“I’m very much aware of who you are Conor,” you laughed lightly. “I actually have a channel myself.”

“Really?” Conor smiled.

“Yeah,” you said. “Sorry, I’m being rude. Do you want to come in?” Mikey looked like he was going to speak, but Jack beat him to it.

“Actually, Mikey, Joe, and I were just about to head out,” he said. “It was nice to meet you (Y/N).”

“I’m sure we’ll be seeing more of each other,” Joe said. “We’re always around.”

“Bye!” you said with a smile. As the boys left, Mikey was muttering angrily to Jack, but you and Conor were now alone. “Do you want to come in?” you asked him.

“Yeah sure,” he nodded. He walked into your flat and let out a little laugh. “So you must’ve just moved in.”

“Is it that obvious?” you laughed. “Yeah, I’ve only been here for like, three days. I’ve only unpacked my bedding and some clothes and my camera stuff. I was actually filming a cover when you heard me.”

“Oh I’m sorry,” Conor said. “I don’t want to interrupt.”

“It’s fine,” you said. “I can finish it another time.”

“I don’t mind if you finish it now,” he said. “I mean, if that’s not weird for you.”

“Are you sure?” you said.


So, you walked back over to your patio and sat down where you had left your guitar. Conor sat on a chair behind the camera and smiled at you before you began. This time, you sang the song flawlessly. You smiled widely before shutting off your camera and turning your attention fully to Conor. “You’re honestly amazing,” Conor said sincerely.

“Thanks,” you smiled. After only a second of silence, you added, “So would you really want to collab sometime?”

“Definitely,” Conor said.

“Cool,” you said. “Well, you know where I live now.” You both laughed and Conor took out his phone.

“Why don’t you give me your number,” he said. “That way I don’t have to just show up at your door one day.”

“I wouldn’t mind if you just showed up,” you said quietly. You meant to say the words in your head but they fell out before you could stop them. While you felt your cheeks turning a bit pink, Conor just smiled.

“Well then maybe I’ll have to stop by again sometime,” he said.

“Yeah,” you said, breathing a quiet sigh of relief at his casual response. “Maybe.” After exchanging numbers, Conor took off the hoodie he was wearing and rubbed his hands together.

“So, how would you like an extra hand at tackling these boxes?”

dadstiel-n-sammy  asked:

I loved your meta/breakdown of 12x10 so much. Since you seem to ship destiel too, the only tiny thing I would add to it is that you should look at the framing of that gif with Cas and Ishrim after Cas is beaten up. It's framed to look just like the reverse crypt scene where MoC!Dean beats up Cas, stabs the books near his face and walks out on him while Cas looks after him. Except this time Dean is experiencing this memory as an onlooker.

Hey and thanks! I do indeed ship destiel. What gave you that idea? lol!

This is crazy because I have been struggling to get to my ask box because I’m *still* half way through writing part 2 of my review I missed this when I added on my thoughts to this post which should interest you. Main credit of course goes to @destielonfire and @elizabethrobertajones as my comment around the framing was that I saw the two scenes as mirrored book ends to a very dark period in Castiel’s life and emotional arc that we have now come to the end of. 

10x22 was horrific both for Castiel’s self esteem (he had literally just pledged himself to Dean forever and got rejected) and for Dean and Cas’s relationship. They were at their worst point and the repercussions of this on Castiel’s mental state rippled throughout season 11 and were partly to blame for his accepting Lucifer. We only really started to get any recovery from this in 11x23 when Dean actually took Cas aside for a so called beer run to tell him how important he was. But Castiel didn’t really take it in properly.

In season 12 they have finally built on their relationship and are on a more equal footing, but 12x10 was the first time that the Winchesters have actually sat Castiel down and told him just how much they care properly and sincerely.  (I was screeching about that final scene for ages it was wonderful). In the mirror scene to 10x22 where Castiel is lying hurt on the floor, Dean is once again presented with a choice. Castiel gets to watch as Dean chooses to risk his own life rather than risk Castiel’s. Proving just how much Castiel means to him by that one small action of lowering his hand. 

This is such an important moment, not just for destiel but for Castiel’s self esteem and understanding of how Dean views him. This is Castiel learning to believe that he may actually be just as important to Dean as Dean is to him. 

And yeah, another thing this episode has done really well is show Dean things that he may not have been aware of before. Here is a comprehensive list:

  • Reminded him that angels don’t have gender.
  • Reminded him that angels treat Castiel like shit (and Dean doesn’t like that one bit).
  • Therefore made him reflect on his own attitude towards Castiel sometimes that he may not have been aware of previously.
  • Reminded him of just how much Castiel has done for him.
  • Reminded him of how much he takes Castiel for granted.
  • Reminded him that Castiel chooses him everytime.
  • Reminded him that he has previously hurt Castiel badly, and that he needs to make amends for that. (via this scene and the framing which was mirrored with 10x22).

Because whilst we argue that they have been acting like an old married couple having a lovers spat, and have been snapping at each other for quite a few episodes now, we need Dean to experience moments like this so he can get some perspective on his own situation with Cas. Do I think it brought back memories of 10x22? Yes of course. That much is obvious. Going forward I predict that we will see more care from Dean, and start to get more of Dean’s point of view on Cas and his current emotional arc. Which we have been greatly lacking in for a while. I am hopeful that this episode has taught Dean some lessons, because as far as I can tell that was intention. Otherwise we never would have got a blatant explanation of behaviour from Dean at the end. The guy actually used his words for once, and the only reason this was possible was because of what he witnessed in this episode.

Burn The Witch

Pairings: Donald Pierce x Reader
Words: 1,493
Warnings: Swearing, implied smut
Request: @crazyfreckledginger :  Could you do a Donald Pierce imagine where the reader is a mutant (and has scarlet witch power) and he captured her when she sacrificed herself for laura and logan. And Donald flirts all the time with her but starts falling in love with her. Could you also include his point of view please!? Ps I love your writing! 😍😍💕
Summary: The reader is a powerful mutant captured by Donald during Logan and Laura’s escape. Being the only person she talks to, he has to look after her even if her powers make his heart skip a beat. But is it really fear causing all this commotion?
A/N: I have a feeling it will end up having multiple chapters, of course, if you like it! Thank you for the request! 

Originally posted by rafikecoyote

My steps echoed as I crossed the empty corridor. Rice wanted me to check on his newest trophy I’d captured a month ago since she was thoughtful enough to open her mouth only in my presence.

Working for Transigen meant having to deal with a bunch of fucked up and borderline terrifying shit on a daily basis. And most of it didn’t bother me anyway. The kids, for one. It was a nightmare fuel for some while I was left unfazed most of the time. I could compare it to walking into a minefield, you watch your every step and even if you screw up at least you know what happens next. But the new girl? Hell, she was something different.

Imagine treading on a thin ice, one misstep and the ice breaks consuming not only you but everyone who was moronic enough to trust your leadership. But with her, there’s yet another twist, there’s not simply freezing water underneath, it’s the darkest, coldest pit filled with something that makes your skin crawl.

That could explain my slight discomfort every time I had to pay her a visit.

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change of heart - scott mccall

request: Scott McCall imagine where you’ve both disliked each other since you were children and you are constantly snapping at each other. But one night you get injured and you’re not healing quick enough ( you’re supernatural) so you go to the vets and Scott helps you and it’s ends with some fluff please!!

word count: 1762

note: this is really bad i am so sorry

                                                    11 years ago

Your family had just moved to Beacon Hills, which was your moms home town. She had gotten a call from a friend of hers saying that there was an opening at the hospital she works at. A month later, your stuff was packed away in a truck and you were on your way to Beacon Hills. The house your parents bought was conveniently right next to your mom’s friend.The first day you were in Beacon Hills your mom had let Melissa watch you while your parents unpacked.

Melissa had a son around your age, so your mom thought it was the perfect opportunity for you to make a new friend. She could not have been more wrong about that. Your six year old self tried to get along with Scott at first, but he seemed determined to be rude to you. He wouldn’t even share any of his toys with you.

“Scott, please let me play with Spider-man! He’s my favorite,” You begged to the brown haired boy in front of you.

“No, he’s my toy. Not yours,” He retorted as he continued to make his Power ranger and Hulk toys fight each other. “I don’t like you and I only give my toys to people I like.”

“Fine,” You pouted. You crossed your arms and, with a scowl on your face, went into the McCall’s backyard to play by yourself.

                                                    Present day

It’s been 11 years and you still do not get along with Scott McCall, despite you both being werewolves. You both had been unfortunately sat next to or partnered with each other in all four of the classes you had together. Every day you two would argue and every day you two would get in trouble for arguing. Everyone thought you both secretly liked each other. Scott was extremely attractive, but you thought you despised him too much to ever think of him like that.

Starting your day off with p.e. was definitely not something you ever wanted to do. Yet here you were, changing in the girls locker room. The other girls talked about the same thing every morning, which was how they didn’t want to ruin their make up. Have they never heard of setting spray? You usually were always the first girl dressed and out of the locker room since you hated listening to them.

“Good morning, Y/L/N,” Coach Finstock greeted with a huge smile. You were one of his favorite students, so he was always nice to you.

“Good morning, coach,” You smiled back. You went and sat down on one of the benches and waited for the class to actually start. Scott walked out of the locker room not too long after you sat down and you rolled your eyes. You already knew he was going to pick you to be his partner in everything that was a competition. After all, you were the only person that had a chance to beat him due to the supernatural abilities you both possessed.

Once everyone was out of the locker rooms., Coach yelled, “Okay everyone! After you’ve stretched, go out to the track!” Everyone spread out across the gym and started to do whatever stretches. Nearly fifteen minutes later, everyone was walking out to the track. You walked with the only person you deemed tolerable in that class and listened to her talk about a new book she was reading. You saw the boys all huddled in a circle, presumably picking their racing partners. 

“We already know McCall is going to choose Y/N,” One of the boys taunted with a smirk. “I mean, I don’t blame you. I would purposely lose just so I could watch her from behind. She’s hot.”

Scott clenched his fists and had to stop himself from getting too angry. “Stop talking,” He snapped at the boy. All the others became rigid at the sudden change of Scott’s attitude.

Coach walked up to the class, ceasing all conversations. “Pick your partners and get in two lines! And Greenberg, that does not mean get in line behind your partner. Get in the opposite line. Once you’ve raced, you can back to the locker rooms and change.”

You went to the front of the line and waited for Scott to stand next to you. A boy you hardly knew started to make his way towards you, but Scott ran ahead of him and beat him to the position. “I hope you’re ready to lose,” You said with a fake smile.

“The only thing I’ll be losing is the satisfaction of seeing your face whenever I beat you,” He spat back.

“Trust me, you won’t beat me. The only thing you’ll beat is-”

“Okay, that’s enough arguing for now. Get ready. Set. Go,” Coach yelled out unexpectedly. Neither of you were prepared yet, so you both had a delayed start. You made sure to stay at his pace until you reached the end and you knew he was doing the same. You neared the end and started to run as fast as you could. “That was the fastest 400 I have ever seen. You both crossed at the same time. It was a tie.”

“No! I beat him, Coach! You know I did,” You protested as you tried to catch your breath. Scott was hunched over next to you doing the same.

“Face it, Y/N. We tied,” He breathed out, looking up at you. You scoffed at the boy and walked off, going back to the gym to change. Scott waited a few moments before going back as well.

The rest of the day went by slowly and you wanted nothing more than to go home. When you finally did get home, you found your home empty. Your parents were presumably still at work. That wasn’t unusual since they both had hardworking jobs. You went up to your room and fell onto your bed, your face now shoved into the comforter. Not even five minutes later, you fell asleep in that uncomfortable position.

You woke up to the sound of a female scream nearly four hours later. You instantly flipped over and sat up; now on high alert. You heard the scream again and that’s when you jumped up and ran out of your house. You blindly entered the woods since you had no clue where the screams came from. You felt like you were running in circles. Each time you heard it, you ended up going in a different direction.

Once you were in an empty clearing, you knew what happened. Werewolf hunters had tricked you and they were waiting for you to reach them. You shifted and waited for them to show their faces. You were ready to fight if needed. “Teenage werewolves are always the easiest to catch. Especially idiotic teenage girl werewolves,” You heard a male voice say from somewhere in the trees.

“I forget how sexist old men are sometimes,” You growled, eyes searching for any sign of the hunters. “Let’s make this a fair fight. Show your faces.”

There were only two of them. Well, at least only two who emerged from behind a tree. One was armed with a gun and the other with a crossbow. You couldn’t hear any other heartbeats, so instead of fighting you turned around and ran. One of the guys fired their weapon and hit you in your upper arm. A stinging feeling immediately hit you, but you kept running. Another bullet hit your thigh, only slowing you down slightly.

You ran until you hit the road, stopping only to look at the wounds. They were emitting a sort of purple-ish liquid. You could only think of one place to go, so that’s where you halfway ran and halfway hobbled to. You reached the vet and walked in, ignoring the closed sign. Scott started to go the front when he heard the bell and he said, “Sorry we’re clo- Oh my god. Are you okay?” He instantly ran over to your side.

You could barely stand anymore. Your head was throbbing and you could feel tears rolling down your cheek. You felt like you were on the brink of fainting. “A couple of hunters tricked me. I’m not healing, Scott. I need your help,” You pleaded with tears in your eyes. Scott didn’t hesitate to pick you up and carry you to the back room where Deaton was. You had just enough time to thank him before you finally blacked out.

You woke up and the pain hit you like a tidal wave. Your body ached, but you could feel someone’s hand around hours. You finally opened your eyes and you saw Scott standing next to you. You squeezed his hand, which made him look down at you. His eyes widened with relief. “You’re awake,” He stated the obvious.

“I am and you’re holding my hand,” You pointed out with a weak smile.

He let go and his cheeks reddened. “Can I tell you something? When you first moved here, I didn’t like you because I thought you were pretty. I was 7 years old and I figured that if I was mean to you, you would pay attention to me.7 year old logic you know? After that, us hating each other kind of became a thing. Once we grew up, I started to realize that I should apologize, but I thought you would never forgive me for all the horrible things I’ve said. What I’m trying to say is, I regret all of it and I’m sorry.”

You could tell that his apology was sincere. His words made you happier than you could have ever imagined. “I forgive you. I was only rude to you because you were rude to me,” You chuckled. You sat up on the cold metal table so you were closer to his height. “Let’s start over, okay? Hi, I’m Y/N and I’m a teenage werewolf.” Your eyes never left his brown ones.

“Hi, I’m Scott and I am also a teenage werewolf,” He laughed.

“Now, since we both had a change of heart, I think I should go home,” You declared as you hopped off the table. You wiped your dirty hands on your jeans and looked up so you were looking at Scott.

“Let me take you. I don’t think you should be walking home by yourself at this time.” He very well knew you could take care of yourself, but he just wanted to be near you. Now that you both apologized about “hating” each other, he could express how he really felt about you.

this is really bad??? also, im sorry i havent been on as much. i just have absolutely zero motivation to do anything anymore.


Originally posted by mayfifolle

It’s Mark’s 18th birthday and you have just the right gift for him. 

Warnings: Fluff

Pairings: Mark Lee x reader

Word Count: 1.4 K

Requested: Everyone loving and supporting Mark for the cutie he is (AND HE IS A CUTIE OML LOOK AT HIM).

Mark Lee was the sweetest person you knew. When you first met him, it was a gloomy, rainy, school night and you were umbrella-less in the pouring rain. He offered his to you, putting it into your hands, insisting that you take it, then without another word, ran under the umbrella of his friend, (who you now know as Jeno). You thought he was crazy for doing so, but his simple gesture made you smile the entire walk home. 

He also had this aura around him. When you looked at him, his eyes held a strength to them, never seeming to lose focus. His hands never rested, feet never stood still and mind never ran out of words to say. He had this innate ability to make others put their trust into him, and no one so far has regretted that decision. 

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A Man Worth Fighting For- 10

Summary: Seventy years has passed and the world has changed. You thought you were moving on until Steve Rogers asks you for a favor which leads to a discovery that will change everything. So much for retirement. Sequel to “A Girl Worth Fighting For.” Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 1606
Warnings: Language, as always. Mentions of blood.
Tags at the end
Part 9   Masterlist

The world above the water’s surface was bright; so bright it was painful. Your eyes closed impulsively as your body met solid ground, coughing and retching the water from your lungs. The ground under you slushed with water and blood as you struggled to hold yourself up on your hands and knees, your palms sinking into the earth. The pain in your side didn’t subside, but you could feel the bones in your torso moving as they pieced themselves together, like sliding pieces of machinery into their slots. It was painful, but not nearly as much as the pain they’d caused by being broken in the first place. Whatever organs had been damaged also began repairing, creating a constriction in your gut. Your lungs heaved, each breath laborious. Your body sped through a process that would have normally taken months, but it was no easy fix. Blood filled your mouth as you bit the inside of your cheek, letting your body do what it must.

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Summers Night - 4/5 - T - I Didn’t Ask For This (We Never Really Do)

Part I, II, III

This fic has turned out to be the most tooth-rotting fluffy thing I have ever written who am I and what has this damn pairing done to me?

AO3 Link

Pairing(s): Azriel x Tarquin (#Official Ship name ‘Summer’s Night’ as delcared by @verifiefangirl you can’t stop me it’s a thing now come drown with me y’all), Amren x Varian


All these years of living in the light and reviling the dark; It’s the beginning of a chance or maybe a change and he didn’t ask for it but it’s with him at 3am on his pillow and he thinks that maybe just maybe he likes it.


Tarquin is the High Lord of Summer and yet here he is falling in love with a man born of shadows.

Tags: fluff, dumb angst, pretentious af awful writing style, i need these two to be happy forever and ever okay sorry but it’s the truth

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anonymous asked:

I apologize for going anon on you, seeing your inbox note. I'm aware I probably won't be answered. Earlier on Twitter you talked about popularity and social media. I have a personal situation and I wanted to know your thoughts, even if it might be harsh. I know notes =/= worth. I like what I make. I was also bent on improving. Yet it hurts when I barely get recognition when I've been in a fandom for years. I don't feel like I exist. -

- Plus I’ve become a little jealous over someone with same interests yet they’re popular. I try to avoid them, but I see their stuff everywhere. Their existence reminds me of my own ‘failure’. It’s not that I want to be wildly popular. I wish more people cared. I do feel as though communities aren’t as supportive as they could be. Thank you for taking the time to read this.           

I really don’t make a habit of answering anons, but if you have something that’s sincerely upsetting… well, it’s very hard for me to ignore that. We’ve all got weaknesses and sometimes it’s really super hard to talk to anyone about them.

No worries anon, I think this is something a lot of people struggle with. I don’t claim to know the answer, but I can certainly give you my two cents.

For anyone who doesn’t follow my Twitter (it’s a mess, I don’t blame you), this is the thread they’re referring to:

In addendum, it’s really easy to say things like recognition don’t matter. Numbers don’t matter. Twitter doesn’t lend well to talking at length about sensitive subjects, so I didn’t really delve into that part of it.

If I sounded like I don’t have my own problems with envy, don’t be fooled! I think even at our best, we all experience envy of others. No one is perfect, and we all crave what we lack, even if it’s not from a place of malice or ill-will.

It’s a really rough struggle, I’m not gonna lie. Things like natural advantages/disadvantages can take their toll (natural talent is a thing, friends), things like dumb luck can be downright infuriating. And a lot of times, that’s what it boils down to - because everyone works hard when they’re passionate about something. Sometimes, it’s about being in the right place at the right time, being born into an optimal environment, having the right resources, being in the right fandom, stumbling into the right group of friends, etc. Hell, the professional world is more often about networking than anything else, and that’s kind of a version of that.

Long story short, there are too many things out of your control. Which to me, is yet another reason why you shouldn’t beat yourself up over lack of popularity. Not to say that hard work and self-improvement should be thrown out the window, that’s not the point I’m trying to make; I’m just trying to say that there’s so much more that needs to be taken into consideration before you beat yourself up over low followers/likes/etc. (Not that you should ever beat yourself up for that)

So I suppose my advice is this: go out and make friends. Tailor your experience so that you no longer care about those numbers, or at least care less. Baby steps. Get more excited about sharing your work with close friends than posting on your blog and watching notes come in. Show your work to people who really matter to you - more often than not, a few kind words from them will mean more than 100,000 likes from some random strangers. If you think a community isn’t very welcoming or accepting… then look elsewhere! Other social media sites, other fandoms if you have to. No two places are the same.

Get more excited about self-discovery. Get more excited about self-improvement, learning something new. Your world is about you, your thoughts, your experiences. Not the opinion’s of random people on the internet. If you love something, if you enjoy something, they don’t matter.

It’s often a very slow process, learning to let go of envy and jealousy. I’ve only loosened my grip on it, it’s still there. I still feel petty and gross whenever I see an artist half my age and twice as talented, and I wonder, what sort of luck did they have? What silver spoon were they born with? Must be nice, I think bitterly, and then I catch myself and have a nasty taste in my mouth until I can let it go. Remind myself they’re a person too, and never wished to be better/more popular/successful to put others down.

Nobody is perfect. We all have our strengths and weaknesses, and at the end of the day, only you can make the art you make. No one else can, not even so-called master artists. They don’t have your mind, your eyes, your touch. Only you can bring your art into the world.

Life is fleeting. Enjoy yours as best you can, be happy. There’s more to life than comparing yourself to others. More to life than art, even. There’s tasty food to be eaten, new places to visit, new friends to make.

It’s little things like these that help me loosen my grip on envy’s hand.

And on a lighter note… do you even want to be popular on this hellsite. ‘Cause let me tell you a thing, back when I had, I think I peaked at around 80k (maybe 100k) followers on my old blog? The amount of harassment I got was ridiculous. Turning anon off at that point didn’t even work, I’d get just about everything under the sun on par for internet culture. Popularity means visibility, and holy shit that isn’t always a good thing. I’m 10000000% happier in my tinier fandoms, and I hope I stay here.

Apollo pt. 7

Apollo Masterlist

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Summary: Writer blocks can be really frustrating, and sometimes having a “muse” doesn’t really help either. - Specially when your inspiration might not be there with you forever. ModernAU!

Warnings: None

Words: 3975

A/N: My angst game is getting weak. Halp. Shit this gif fits so fucking well with the situation I just

Originally posted by coporolight

“Where it began
I can’t begin to knowing
But then I know
It’s growing strong”

Bucky sang along, music playing on his head, feet cold, dirty, and wet from the long walk he decided to take from his house to Steve’s.

He wasn’t drunk, but he still felt numb; he wasn’t hurt, but he could hear his heart cracking inside him; he was also shivering, but it wasn’t because of the rain pouring on him.

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What Happens After Class (Patrick Stump)

Based Off of the Request: Ok. So I was wondering if you could write a teacher smut where Patrick is your favorite teacher and you like him, like a lot and one day he ask to talk to you after class about something and somehow it leads to kinky sex? (Sorry for the weirdness)😶

Warning: Contains Heavy Smut

It was always his lips that got me in trouble. The lips that made me fantasize, that distracted me, that made me wish. Sure, there were the piercing blue eyes, the thick framed glasses, the way he wore skinny jeans that fit him just right, but it was the lips that always had me staring. How they stretched into a grin, or the way one was sucked in between his teeth and bit down on when he was thinking. It was the lips that got me into trouble. It was the lips that made me want him.


I walk into class, deliberately slowing down as I walk past the desk, knowing my hips were shaking just enough to not be obvious, but to show off my ass to anyone who might be looking, and oh god I hoped he was.

I sat down in the first row, dead center, as close to Mr. Stump as I could get. I pulled out a notebook and a pen, sticking one end of the pen in my mouth as I waited for class to start. As the class settles down, Mr. Stump moves to the middle of the floor, effectively calling attention from everyone in the large lecture hall.

“Alright everyone, class has begun, so you know the rules. No more english in this room- you speak in French or you don’t speak at all, got it?”

“Oui” The class mumbles, everyone still irritated at this rule despite months of enduring it.

“We have a video today, I expect everyone to take notes and pay attention” he says in smooth French. I bite my lip and look at him, only to be met with a confused half-glare as he makes his way to the desk again. The video flickers to life on the screen, and I find myself disappointed that I won’t hear him speak any more French today- it’s fair to say that’s always my favorite part of this class.

“Think he’s playing a video because he’s too hungover to actually teach?” A girl named Lindsay whispers to me.

“Hungover? I’d be surprised if Stump ever even left his house at night, let alone party” I respond, giggling.

“Did you have a question or comment (Y/N)?” Rings through the class as I’m reprimanded.

“Non, monsieur” I respond without missing a beat.

After several more minutes, I slowly get up from my seat and walk quickly to the desk.

“May I go to the bathroom?” I ask, batting my eyelashes at Mr. Stump.

“Francais” he replies curtly.

“puis-je aller à la salle de bain ?”


I grin at him and duck out of the classroom. By the time I return, almost fifteen minutes later, the video is ended and everyone’s writing in their notebooks.

I sit down at my desk, and begin writing the summary after I get the instructions from Lindsay.

“I need to see you after class (Y/N)” Mr. Stump says, walking in front of my desk, surprising me with his english.

“Yes sir” I say, smiling up at him suggestively.

“This isn’t a joke” He says roughly, looking away.

“Who said it was?” I ask innocently. He sighs and walks away.

Twenty minutes later, I’m the last one in the class, so I saunter slowly to the desk.

“You wanted to see me, Mr. Stump?” I ask innocently.

“You’ve been acting up in class lately” he says, crossing his arms and looking at me.

“What? No, I don’t think I have”

“You talked during the film, refuse to use French, went to “the bathroom”” he says in air quotes, “ for almost twenty minutes. You don’t respect me or this class and I’m tired of this behaviour.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be disrespectful” I say sincerely.

“You’re cocky, rude, and disrespectful. Someone needs to teach you some respect and humility”

“No I promise, Mr. Stump, I wasn’t trying to be disrespectful”

“Oh, but that’s the thing” he says, standing up and walking to the front of the desk, crossing his arms and leaning back against it as he stares at me. “ I think you do. I think you want to get in trouble. Actually, I think you want to be punished.”

“W-what?” I ask surprised, heart doing flips in my chest.

“You’ve been naughty,” Mr. Stump says with a smile, “Does that mean you want to be punished?”

“Yes” I say immediately, blushing at my own eagerness

“And how exactly do you want to be punished?” he asks, staring at me intently.

“I want you, um, to do whatever you want with me” I say, throwing my nerves behind me in hopes of getting what I really want.

“I was hoping you’d say that” He responds with a grin, “Let’s go to my office”

I nod and follow him, standing near the door as he sits in his chair, looking, practically studying me.

“Close the door” he says strongly. I nod and turn around, swinging the door shut and locking it, heart beating so fast I can barely think.

“Good, now strip” he demands. I look up in surprise, but he shows no signs of joking, so I follow the order, carefully unbuttoning my shirt, sliding off my tank top, and pulling down my shorts. It isn’t until I stand there in only my bra and underwear that he holds up a hand, signalling for me to stop.

“Come here” he says, beckoning to me. I walk slowly over to stand in front of him. “Kneel” he demands. I slowly drop to my knees in front of him. I realize that maybe I should feel offended or irritated at the way he’s ordering me around, but instead it just excites me even more. I’m hanging onto his every word and every order, and he knows it.

He stands up in front of me, slowly undoing his belt buckle, and I bite my lip in anticipation. He grins down at me as he unbuckles his pants, and then I reach up, tugging down his boxers before he has a chance.

“Someone’s eager” he says, grinning as I immediately begin, licking up his shaft.

“No teasing’ he says after a few seconds, “This is your punishment remember? Not mine”

I nod and take him in my mouth, bobbing my head on him, hands gripping his thighs for leverage. He sighs and starts rocking his hips, causing me to unintentionally move back. “Oh no, none of that now” he says, one of his hands tangling in my hair and stopping my motion.

“I make the decisions here” he says strongly, obviously waiting for a reply.

“Y- yes” I respond, unsure of what he wants.

“Yes Sir” he corrects.

“Yes sir” I say immediately, noting the way his eyes light up when I do.

“Good, then continue”

I take him in my mouth again, his one hand on the back of my head as he thrusts into my mouth. I go until my jaw aches and the back of my throat feels raw. Suddenly, he stops moving and steps away.

“Good girl” he says, reaching down a hand to help me up, “Now it’s your turn”

I can’t help but smile as he gestures for me to lay down on top of his desk, immediately hooking his fingers in the waistband of my panties and tugging them down. I let out an involuntary sigh as his tongue finds me, almost immediately delving into me and tearing a moan from my throat. His hands grip my hips, preventing me from moving as he moves his tongue further up, plunging one finger, and then two, inside me, leaving me a moaning mess.

“Sir” I pant out, “I-I’m close”

“No, not until I say” he replies.

“W-what?”I ask, confused.

“You don’t get to orgasm until I say, understand?”

“Yes, Sir” I say, though I don’t understand how I’m supposed to do that.

He keeps working, until the point where I don’t think I can hold it anymore, and then suddenly he’s gone, and I whine at the loss of contact. He smiles at me from where he stands, looking down at me in onder almost. “You look fucking sexy” he says, eyes raking over my body.

“It’s all for you, Sir” I say breathily, fascinated at this new side of Mr. Stump that I’d never imagined.

His eyes light up and he grins, leaning forward and attacking my lips with his, fighting for dominance with his tongue as his hands massage my breasts. He runs his hands down my sides and breaks the kiss as he moves my legs onto his shoulders, stopping briefly to slip a condom on.

“Are you ready?” he asks, and suddenly I see a glimpse of the sweet, supporting man I had always seen before this.
“Yes Sir” I respond, needy.

He grins, and enters me, stopping for only a brief second, before thrusting in and out of me roughly. In no time I feel the familiar coiling in my stomach, but I try to hold it off,remembering what he said earlier. Another minute, and I can’t do it anymore.

“Sir, please’ I say breathily, “ I can’t hold it anymore”

“Yes you can” he responds simply, thrusting harder and deeper into me, making me moan so I can’t respond.

“Sir!” I yell as he pounds into me, “Please!”

“Please what?”

“Please let me cum!” I practically, scream, “Sir!”

Theres silence from him for several seconds before he responds

“Only when I say”

I moan but try to hold it, on the edge of falling apart when he finally speaks up.

“Okay” Is all he says before I feel as though my body explodes, waves of pleasure rolling through my body, barely even noticing him go right after me. I lay on his desk, struggling to catch my breath again, when he reaches a hand out, pulling me off of the desk. I stand on shaky legs as he pulls me into a deep kiss, his hands tangling in my hair as I fall into the kiss.

“Are you okay? Was it too much?” he asks, pulling away.

“No!” I say quickly, causing him to chuckle, “ it was perfect”

“Good” he says grinning, handing my my shorts as we begin to get dressed.

A few minutes later, after retrieving my clothes from various spots on the floor, we both stand, fully clothed once again.

I grin as I look at him, his mussed hair and wrinkled, thrown on clothes making him even hotter than usual.

“What?” he asks, looking at me confused as I stare at him.

“You look hot” I say simply, grinning at him. He laughs and crosses the space, pulling me into another kiss.

“You should go,” he says regretfully, “The longer you’re here the more likely we are to get caught”

“Oh” I say, feeling suddenly dismissed, “Yea right, I’ll just go then.”

I walk slowly to the door, unlocking it and pulling it open. But before I can walk through it, Mr. Stump stops me.

“But (Y/N)” he calls out.

“Yeah?” I ask, turning around.

“If you keep misbehaving in class, I’ll have no choice but to punish you again. Understand?”

I grin at him, the words speeding up my heart, yet again.

“Yes Sir”

anonymous asked:

Short fic on Cal meeting Lightning for the first time? Knowing this was the car that helped his Uncle finish his last race. I think he'd be super happy to meet him! :)

Indeed, Anon! Time to unleash the cinnamon roll into the world so he can meet the tomato boy.

“Come on, Cal.” Tex encouraged the kid. “You need to get in there and socialize. No one’s gonna know who y’are if you don’t go meet ‘em”

“No, Tex.” Cal argued stubbornly. “Everyone already knows exactly who I am. And that’s what’s makin’ me nervous.”

Tex had rented out a huge private venue that night, three days before the first race of the season. He threw a massive party for all the racers, sponsors, and any other big names that wanted to come. It was tradition, an act that was done to reinforce the principle of friendly competition on the track.

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Skylines and Teacups part 3

part one / part two / part four / part five / part six / part seven coming soon

pairing: You x Suga

summary: It was a quiet lonely night at a cafe right outside of the city when a mysterious looking man approached you. There blossomed something you never expected in your wildest dreams - not after everything you’ve been through.

genre: fluff and angst

word count: 4000

warnings: heavy drinking, PTSD

“You got me there, Y/N.”

You took a step backward, completely startled. It was odd hearing those words from someone else’s mouth. “What? Did I say something?” Sojung questioned, eyeing you. “No no” You assured. “Are you alright, Y/N?” She seemed genuinely concerned. “It’s just.. Mystery Man says that a lot.” You admitted. Sojung rolled her eyes. “You haven’t seen him in two weeks and everyday something reminds you of him. It’s like you were dating, he broke up with you, and now you’re completely devastated.” Sojung spoke with clear annoyance. “Why don’t you like him, Sojung?”

The two of you were sitting on her couch in her house. Sojung’s place was an odd mix of traditional hanok and modern housing. It looked like someone had a cool idea that didn’t go as planned and that’s why she got it so cheap. The sun was going down and the light was slowly draining from the room through the large windows. There were a bunch of cardboard moving boxes in the corner, untouched, and they were eyeing you evilly. You could see the shadows of the outdoor trees outlining on the floor and the television was displaying a man reciting his script in a static position and in a monotone voice. It was so dull that it all was lost in the background of the moment. All you cared for right then and there was to please your friend as her subtle comments throughout the past few weeks have shown her distaste for your newest friend.

“Y/N, you haven’t had the greatest history with ‘mysterious’ men.” Sojung stood up with dirty plates in hand. “This is different.” You defended as you watched Sojung walk to the kitchen from the couch. “How do you know it’s different? You don’t know anything about him.” She was in distress as she washed the dishes in the sink. “You don’t either. How do you know if he’s a problem?” You were feeling very defensive today and Sojung knew she was asking for a fight.

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anonymous asked:

prompt: it's really, really sad, but it got me thinking- daisy taking Evie in after FitzSimmons (oh god it hurts to say this) ...die? And Evie is a teenager, and loves science, but also loves field work (like a mini coulson) and Daisy trains her and the team looks after her? ugh it makes me sad but you could write it so well!

So writing this got me a bit Emotional and I really hope I did the idea justice - I wanted to try and show her relationships with the team while also showing that she’s healing, but it was getting loooong so…hopefully it’s okay?

(Also, as stated in the prompt, there’s obviously implied character death.)



“Blow out the candle, Evelyn, you can do it!”

“See? Like this – it’s easy… Oops…”

“Ugh Fitz!”

“I’m sorry! We’ll just relight…or Evie can tear into the cake, which she already seems to be doing. That’s my girl right there!

Evelyn let out a watery laugh as the image on the screen shifted to show her one-year-old self with fistfuls of cake and a big, toothless grin on her icing-covered face. “Oh dear…” Her mother, lips pressed together in an attempt to hide her amusement, stepped into the frame then, a napkin at the ready, but then she sighed and let out a little laugh. “Well, I suppose it is her birthday.

Her father appeared then as well, squatting until he was level with Evelyn’s highchair. “You gonna share, Evie?” When she immediately squealed in delight and shoved a handful of squashed cake into his face, a round of laughter went up in the background of the video. “Ah yes, thank you sweetheart.

Well, you did ask for it,” her mother pointed out, not even trying to hold back her giggles as she attempted to wipe away the mess on her father’s face.

Her parents began to playfully bicker then, and Evelyn never used to think it was possible to feel simultaneously so warm and happy, and yet so broken and empty, but now it was a mixture of feeling she was intimately familiar with. In this video, they were all so carefree and happy and things were so good

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anonymous asked:

Do you.. do Mafia!Dazai? If you do.. *coughs* can I have a *coughcough* hot and steamy kiss and sexy scenario of him? *coughs* please? /pretty/ please?

Of course, my dear anon! (Let the record show that I am a straight up hoe for Mafia!Dazai ok like it’s lit)

I was honestly so happy about all of the Mafia!Nerd requests bc I love writing this stuff… Also I have absolutely no idea where this came from I just have some kind of “making out in cars” kink or smth and so here we are??? Anyways I hope u enjoy ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) {also I got a few rq’s for a Mafia!Dazai nsfw scenario so I’m planning to make a sort of part deux of this that’s full of even more sin zoo wee mama I can’t wait}

It’s quiet. Eerily quiet. Darkness floods the inside of the parked car loaned by the Mafia itself, its sleek black appearance almost camouflaging it within the night’s cover. The moonlight streaming in through the windshield seems to be the only source of light around, given that the dimmed off-yellow light of the near-deserted parking lot you’re parked in the far corner of almost appears to waver in its magnificent full glow. The smell of cigarette smoke and after-hints of alcohol permeate your nostrils, their scents seeming almost too strong under the effects of your currently heightened senses.

It’s intoxicating. It’s invigorating. It’s one of the many reasons you thank your lucky stars that you ended up in the Mafia to begin with. It’s the little unexpected detours and invitations for late night drives. It’s the almost empty parking lots at 1:00 A.M. It’s the way he’s so impatient. It’s the way he knows what he wants, and how he’ll go out of his way to get it. It’s the way he looks at you from the driver’s seat, street lights illuminating his dark, mischief-filled irises. The way he proclaims, with unwavering sincerity that he “absolutely just can’t wait any longer”. It’s his overbearing aura that sends your senses overboard each and every single time you’re alone. It’s him.

Your heart is racing. It’s not like you’ve never done this before, far from it, it’s just that every single time it happens, it almost seems even more hypnotizing and overwhelming than the last time. More surreal. As it starts out, slow and tantalizing, his upper body is twisted in the driver’s seat, long torso bent over the console between the two of you as you lean in to meet his reach. His long black coat has been long forgotten where it now lies in the backseat, tossed over carelessly because the growing heat in the small enclosed space was becoming just too much. His arms are wrapped around your torso; one hungrily roams underneath your shirt, clawing at your skin teasingly while the other roams more downcast- as far down as it can reach with you sitting in the passenger seat, that is. His right elbow is digging into the leather of the console with such pressure that it’s almost certain permanent marks will be left. Neither party cares. Oh, it’s too good, the way his smooth lips claim yours hungrily, the light taste of alcohol acting almost as a stimulant. His invading tongue asserts its dominance over the roof of your mouth over and over againbecause you simply can’t seem to figure out when to give in. But he liked that about you. It made him need to have you that much more.

Your fingers thread themselves through the executive’s hair roughly, tugging at the dark fistfuls just as your other hand tugs at his tie, bringing him as close as he could possibly get with the console in between the two of you. You take pride in how much you manage to quickly dishevel the otherwise sharply presented man, making short work of the buttons at the top of his white dress shirt. His teeth tug at your bottom lip roughly, almost drawing blood. It’s enough to make you gasp in surprise, opening your mouth wide enough for the man with the wide smirk on his face to show you just who is in charge once again. A muffled, almost strained moan hisses from your throat at the feeling of his tongue dancing with yours, and you pull him closer almost absentmindedly. But because this is his show, he has to be the one to make the bigger move. So, without missing a single beat to the kiss, he’s suddenly rearranging the whole game.

His seat quickly adjusted back to make enough room, he’s soon pulling you over into the driver’s seat so that you’re straddling his lap, his fast pace feeling pleasantly dizzying. He smirks triumphantly, pulling your form close to his with a firm grip. You are his, and he’ll be having his way with you how he sees fit. His hands now free to explore almost every inch of your body, he’s attacking your lips once again, but with even more fire and desperation than before. It becomes clear to you that this can and probably will get out of hand very soon, but do you care? Hungry lips suddenly peppering your neck and collarbone with unexpected attention affirms that the answer is most definitely a resounding “hell no”.

Time seems to be moving so quickly, yet so slowly- his hands traveling below your waistband, his teeth sinking into the soft flesh of your neck’s most sensitive spots, his breath in your ears, husky and deep, almost like a growl. It’s too much to take. Your head is thrown back in overwhelming pleasure, fully exposing your neck to the executive’s onslaught. You can’t hold it back any longer, or you’re certain you’ll burst. “Ahhh-


The mood is suddenly and swiftly torn to shreds at the sound of an annoyed, shrill voice paired with a harsh tapping on the passenger side window. Groaning, you try desperately to catch your breath while reluctantly maneuvering back into your own seat, taking note of the heavily fogged windows that produce a distorted image of the outside world you had long forgotten while trapped inside your little fantasy. Eyes narrowed, you wipe some of the condensation away from the glass only to gaze upon a very disgruntled looking older woman and her husband standing just a few feet away from your car. She’s angrily shouting something and pointing down the road, but her exact words you can’t quite make out. Sighing, you look down at the patch of moonlight on the floorboard as you quickly fix your clothing.

“Tsk. What a drag. …Perhaps it’s time to take this somewhere else?”

The disheveled executive, already straightening his tie and buttoning his dress shirt, seems to light up at the way your voice rises an octave with your question. He simply chuckles darkly, putting his seat back into position and turning the key in the ignition, roaring the engine back to life. As the little dark car pulls out onto the road, you feel a bubbling sort of excitement rise in your stomach, coupled with an all too real sense of unfinished business. It’s made very apparent that your mafioso boyfriend feels the same way by the low, lustful rumble of his voice. He looks over to the passenger side, the corners of his mouth curled up into a wicked grin.

“I hadn’t even gotten the chance to really get started. That was merely a small precursor to how badly I’m going to ravish you tonight, my love.”

Alone in the Dark

Pairing: KolxReader
Words: 964

(So, it’s been a while since I’ve written anything with Kol and I’ve missed him! So I had to write this, despite it not being requested. I hope that the scariness in the beginning is suitable. I truly hope you all enjoy it, love you!<3)

The darkness was overwhelming, seeming darker than dark. Living in New Orleans, the city which seemed to never be asleep, you were too used to plenty of light. But there was no such thing as light in this part of the city with tiny and complicated streets.

You were not very keen on admitting it, but you were lost. This place was like a labyrinth, and one that you could not escape.

Suddenly you heard something crack behind you, but when you turned around there was nothing to be seen. You tried to convince yourself that it was just an animal, but then you heard another crack, louder and nearer than before.

You heart was now in your mouth, and your steps became quicker and quicker – but no matter which way you turned you were met with small and scary streets with neither light nor people. The cracks turned into increasingly faster steps following you close by. Without hesitation, your legs began running, your entire body screaming that someone horrible was close by. And your body was right.

Out of the dark, a tall and muscular man suddenly showed up in front of you, grabbing you tightly around your throat and smashing you into a wall. You only let out a small scream, before one look at his face silenced you.

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