So I just watched the Luthor’s episode with my little brother (he’s nine). He is really bad with names, so he jokingly started calling Alex and Maggie Lesbian one and Lesbian two. While we were watching the scene were Kara goes to Lena’s office to show her the last article about her innocence in everything. My brother turns around and with an extremely serious face tells me “Lesbian three and Lesbian four”. So don’t even try to tell me that the subtext isn’t there because even a nine year old kid catches it.
Meeting new people had never been an issue to you. You enjoyed new companies, new senses of humor, new faces. When you met Jack, you liked everything about him. Not in that way, though: he wasn’t your type at all, but he was too fun to be around to turn down. You liked everything about him except for one little thing.
Conor had never been appealing to your senses. You thought he was too big-headed; sure, the boy could sing and he had the looks, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t hang out with people who weren’t as successful.
You had met Jack and the rest of the Buttercream gang through YouTube. Now that you were a fairly known YouTuber, you started attending all the parties and going to all the events.
And to say you were excited for having been invited to the BRITs was an understatement.
That was, of course, until you noticed who would be sitting besides you.
Since you had come with your friends, you thought you might as well be seated next to them. It was your first big event, for god’s sake, it was huge, and you didn’t want to feel more nervous than you had been all past week.
So, when you glanced at who would be sitting next to you for the entire ceremony, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes covertly.
Of all the thousands of people who were at the arena at that exact moment, you had to land next to Conor freaking Maynard, the only person you didn’t want to see that night.
When you heard he was going, you just shrugged it off. You didn’t want to give him any extra attention, but now it seemed as if karma was playing you for some horrible thing you had done, whatever it was.
As you tried to figure out who you had killed in another life to deserve such punishment, you slowly sat down next to Conor. Your dress went up your leg a little, and you felt even more uncomfortable than before. Even the thought of him looking at you in any way was disgusting to you.
"Hey" he said, eventually turning his head around to look at you. You thought he had given you the weirdest look, and you thought he would be wondering why a plain YouTuber was sitting next to such a big artist. You felt the urge to slap him for no reason “Nice to see you here"
You gave him a fake smile as you rolled your eyes internally "Same to you” you lied in response. He was probably lying as well, but two could play that game.
His eyes slowly travelled down your face to take a look at your outfit, and you couldn’t decide whether it was disgusting you or turning you on. He looked back at your eyes right away, and you could tell he was blushing “You look great tonight” he said, and you almost believed him.
"Thanks" you nodded, and turned back to look at the main stage again. You weren’t going to turn back the compliment, not when you didn’t feel it. You weren’t an hypocrite.
As you wondered why it couldn’t have been the other Maynard instead, sitting next to you, you could feel Conor’s eyes burning on your skin. You readjusted yourself in your seat, the friction between your crossed legs and the seat sending a sudden but brief wave of pleasure to a certain area. You paled. What the fuck was wrong with you?
When the ceremony started, you managed to focus on the stage for some minutes. However, you couldn’t help but glance back at Conor when you caught him staring, letting him know that you weren’t blind. He didn’t seem to care, as you could feel his eyes on you a few moments later.
You felt yourself forgetting why you hated him.
To be honest, he wasn’t even that bad looking, and you had probably misunderstood one another all this time. When they announced a 10-minute break, a little girl had run up to Conor to ask him for a picture, and he happily agreed. He took her on his arms, and you couldn’t help but glance up to him with a small smile. He couldn’t be such a bad person, at least not as bad as you had pictured him.
When he sat back next to you, hands clasped together on his lap, it didn’t take him more than a second to look at you again “What’s the matter with you?” You suddenly asked, feeling so brave you hardly recognized yourself.
He chuckled in response “What’s the matter with what?” he asked, his tone playful.
You breathed in, trying not to slap him right there, straight in the face “You keep looking at me”
“Am I not allowed to look?” he asked again, a cocky smile creeping on his lips. You sat back on your seat, crossing your arms as some random crew member announced you would be on air in a few seconds.
You couldn’t decide whether it was appealing you, or making you want to throw up. The truth was, now that you took a closer look at him, at his features, he didn’t seem so bad. Your eyes slowly travelled to the white pants he was wearing, still not answering his question in any way, and you couldn’t resist the urge to bite your lip. Since when did you go around looking at guy’s bulges?
“A picture lasts longer” you finally said, as he drew his eyes back at yours. You were lucky he didn’t catch you staring, or else it would have been utterly embarrassing.
He just smiled at you and focused on the stage again. You hadn’t even noticed the ceremony had already started again.
For the next half an hour, you thought it all had been pretty boring. You had no one to talk to, besides Conor -and you weren’t even going to dare-, the winners had been predictable and all the jokes the hosts were cracking weren’t even worth a laugh.
Just when you thought you were going to pass out of boredom, you felt a hot pressure on your left knee, and you stiffened. Conor’s hand was tightly gripping at your skin, you thought he might as well just rip it off. You gave him a look, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he started drawing circles with his thumb, so gently and slowly, the steamy pressure you had felt earlier between your legs suddenly came back.
“What in the world are you doing?” you hissed on his ear, but he gave you no response. Instead, his hand slowly gained confidence and slid up your leg, dangerously approaching the hem of your dress. You bit your lip again.
You caught him looking at your cleavage in a discrete way, or maybe not so discrete, and you thought that was it. He had gotten what he wanted. He had won. You wanted him bad, for some weird reason, and you wanted him right away. Because you had never been sexually frustrated, let one because of someone you didn’t even like. For god’s sake, you hated Conor Maynard. He was so arrogant, so annoying, so…
So what? Your mind ran out of adjectives as it wandered off to a wall, a wall you were pinned up against, and he was making you scream his name so loud you felt like passing out. Your breathing involuntarily got heavier as he casually played with your underwear with the tip of his fingers. Who would have told you two hours ago that you would be literally aching for Conor Maynard?
The award show concluded, and as soon as the “on air” sign turned off, Conor’s hand moved away from your tight. Without saying goodbye nor looking for your friends, you stormed off to the bathroom. You needed to calm down. He was probably never going to talk to you again, so what was the point?
As you put your hands under the water stream to gently splash it your neck afterwards, you heard the bathroom door opening. You jumped. You had chosen that specific bathroom because they had told you no one ever went in there. It wasn’t even as luxurious-looking as the main ones.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” you mid-shouted, as a smiley Conor Maynard closed the door behind you. You heard the lock closing with a dry click, and your breathing picked up speed again.
“I think we have something to finish off”he smirked as he got closer to you.
‘Fuck it’ you thought as you felt your arms being thrown around his neck, foreheads pressed together, looking at each other’s lips expectingly. His hands went to your low hips, gripping them as if his life depended on it.
He brushed your noses together as he repeatedly pecked your lips shortly but hungrily “You make me so frustrated, Y/N” he mumbled between kisses, taking his time to taste the cherry lip balm you were wearing.
“Why haven’t you talked to me before, then?” you managed to ask as you started taking his jacket off.
“I guess I just had the wrong idea about you” he said, and before you could even respond, he slid his tongue inside your mouth, taking you by surprise. However, you reacted instantly, as your tongue agressively tangled with his, deepening the kiss.
His hands urgently roamed the hem of your dress again, pulling it higher this time. When it was above your hips, he slid your underwear down your soft legs until you threw them away with your feet, god-knows-where. His fingers instantly brushed your entrance, teasing you as you chewed on his lip, desperate for him to be inside you in any way.
When his fingers finally met your clit, you threw your head back in pleasure, breaking the kiss as you gasped breathlessly. He was practically fucking you with his fingers, thrusting in and out with such dangerous speed you felt as if you were going to come at any second.
“Oh shit, Conor” you whimpered as he added yet another finger. You were a screaming mess. Just when you thought you were finally going to be able to close your mouth, another wave of pleasure hit your core, making you moan without even trying.
He carefully picked you up and placed you on the counter, next to the sink where you held for support, as he started unbottoning his pants. His bulge was ridiculously big, and you were aching with anticipation. His fingers had been amazing, but certainly not enough.
He pumped his erect member up and down a few times before he placed it at your soaked entrance, teasing you just like he had done with his fingers. He slowly entered you, holding you steadily by your waist. His lips suddenly found yours, but this time, his tongue wasn’t as hungry. Or maybe it was, but he surely did hide it well.
His tongue caressed yours inside your mouth as he thrusted in and out of you at an incredibly slow pace. But, for some weird reason, you found yourself bubbled in even more pleasure than before. Chills ran down your spine, and suddenly it hit you that maybe you felt a little more than lust towards him.
Conor moaned inside your mouth as his hands tightened their grip on your waist, sending you over the edge. Him making you moan was one thing, but you making him feel at ease caught you off guard. You suddendly released yourself, and so he did few moments later. He kept thrusting and kissing you, and your hands kept on exploring the back of his head. It felt so damn good, you didn’t want to feel the emptiness of not having him inside you ever again.
When your lips finally parted ways, your foreheads were still touching, your breathings in sync. You smiled at him “I still hate you” you joked, making him smile.
“I sure don’t” he said. You blushed “I want to get to know you better. You know, start again”
“I’m sorry, who are you?” you asked, pulling away so he could see the fake-puzzled look on your face.
He laughed out loud, cupping your cheek with his soft hand afterwards. He leaned in slowly, pressing your lips together once more. Yet this time, they belonged to someone you were eager to know.
“Hey Pete what’s up?” You said smiling at the silver haired boy, once he zoomed to your side. Peter opened his mouth as if to say something but no sound came out.
You tilted your head to the side, a concerned look appearing on your face.
“Is everything okay Peter?”.
“Well I ah…” Peter stammered. Jeez you could see the beads of sweat dripping down his face as he attempted to talk to you. Instead of finishing his sentence Peter chose to super speed away. You were shocked. Peter didn’t seem like a shy guy. What could have possibly gotten into him?
Sometimes, when Sherlock wakes up in the morning, with John sleeping next to him, he can’t believe how happy he is. And then he feels like he’s going to burst with happiness. Tears of joy are suddenly in his eyes and his heart beats wildly in his chest. A bright smile spreads on his face. Everything is just … good. Finally. He then cuddles against John, who murmurs something in his sleep. He’s happy. He never wants this time to end.
My favorite part about this kiss is how intense Dylan/Stiles’ face is. He’s kissing her like she’s his lifeline, the air he breathes. He’s so consumed in this moment, in this kiss, in Lydia. You can feel how much he loves her and how much this moment means to him. This is everything Stiles has spent the past 10 years building up to, and the intensity with which he kisses Lydia is like none I’ve ever seen. Lydia holds onto to Stiles, kissing him back just as forcefully, and we get this incredible moment that seems to stop time. I just can’t get over how much you can tell that this is quite possibly the most important day of Stiles’ life just by the expression he makes when kissing Lydia. It’s gentle and intense and heartbreaking all at the same time. You can feel the gentleness he possesses for Lydia, but it’s also this intense fire that burns hot enough to consume them both. It’s so amazing that these two completely opposite things can exist simultaneously in just one expression. Dylan never ceases to amaze me with how much he understands Stiles as a character and his unconditional love for Lydia.