and hold the handle in his mouth

anonymous asked:

Maybe for Kookie's side story to the gang!bts au, you could do the story of how he got into it and like the story of him beating up jimin and stuff and what followed!

Originally posted by baebsaes

Jimin // Jungkook // Suga // V // Rap Monster


Words: 2449

“Point him out to me. I don’t care who it is, I’ll kill him.” He spat, yanking your arms off and holding you at arms length. You flinched at the way he roughly handled you, but you couldn’t react properly before he shoved the double doors open.

6 boys sat around the dark, smoke filled room. Some were polishing guns, others laying with news papers over their faces trying to get a few moments of shut eye, and another was sitting as a desk with a cigarette in his mouth.

“Oh, Jungkoo- who the fuck is that?” The one at the desk immediately put out his cigarette, standing up and coming over to you. Jungkook glanced around the room nudging you behind him slightly.

“Which one is it?” Jungkook asked you again, his voice straining and cracking slightly. His cheeks were flushed a pinkish hue, and he was breathing so heavily you thought he’d pass out.

“Jungkook, I told you it didn’t matter…” You didn’t meet any of their now prying eyes. The ones attempting to sleep sat up with major bed hair, and the ones polishing the guns had stood up with wide eyes.

“The new kid’s already bringing girls back to the hide out?” One of them snapped, getting up and coming over to the both of you. Jungkook took your hand, squeezing it tightly.

“Can I have her after? How much is he paying you, pretty girl?” One with dark hair asked, crawling over from the black leather sofa. You backed up, but Jungkook kept you in place.

“She’s not for fucking sale! Tell me which one of them tried to fuck with you!”

“Oh,” a voice caught your attention. He was one of them that had a newspaper over his head. The hand Jungkook held felt as if it were pooling with sweat once your eyes met him. It was him, the fiery orange haired one with the gun between his legs. Jungkook noticed your hesitation, before pointing to him.

“It was him? Jimin?” His voice was in disbelief, and he suddenly let go of your hand. You took hold of his shoulder, but he ripped free and strode over.

“Jungkook!” You pleaded, but he wasn’t listening. The one known has Jimin had furrowed his eyebrows and shucked himself from the love seat to stand up. Jungkook took him by the collar and pulled him closer, so their faces were merely inches apart.

“Jungkook, what the fu-” He didn’t even finish responding before Jungkook smashed his fist against his face. You let out a scream, attempting to go over to them but was held back. It was the one from the desk before, with pink hair and a suit on.

“No use in stopping them once they’re at it.” He murmured, trying his best not to hold into you too tightly.

“Jungkook said he was going to kill him!” You cried, attempting to pull free. It was no use, the grip that man had was too strong. All you could do was watch while nobody attempted to stop them. Jungkook was on top of Jimin, repeatedly punching him until it was hard to see his face through all the blood. He seemed to be letting Jungkook have at it, and none of the other boys were breaking it up.

“10 bucks says Jimin’s only letting the kid beat him up so he can have a chance to fucking kill him later.” The dark haired one hollered around the room, throwing some cash on the table. The minty green haired one started to laugh, slapping him on the back of the head.

“No way in hell. Jimin’s not very good at fighting like you, Hoseok. He’s better with a gun. Jungkook’s got him pretty good at this point. Last time anyone fucks with his girl, obviously.” Yet, he still placed a bill gently on top of the one Hoseok put down.

Jungkook reached into his pocket, pulling out something metallic and shiny. It took you a moment to realize he was holding a switch blade. Gasping, you looked up at the pink haired man restraining you, and he was already gone towards them.

“Alright, that’s enough Jungkook.” His voice was stern, like a father trying to stop his kids from hurting each other. Jungkook wasn’t listening, and he pressed the blade against Jimin’s throat. All the laughter and playing from before died out, and you could tell everyone was anticipating Jungkook’s next move.

“You really want…to do that?” Jimin’s voice was broken. He was panting for air, and a few tears escaped down his face. His hands were holding weakly onto Jungkook’s wrists. You noticed that Jimin seemed to have gotten a few hits in, because Jungkook was also dripping with blood and sweat.

“You didn’t fucking stop even after she told you, huh?”

“I didn’t fucking touch her.” He spat back, coughing loudly into Jungkook’s face. Jungkook attempted to press the blade up into his chin, but he merely made a cut that would heal with a few days time. You pushed past the taller ones in the middle of the room, to grab onto Jungkook.

“Let him go.” You pleaded, holding onto the collar of his jacket. He merely grunted, trying to jerk you off of him.

“Listen to your little bitch, Jungkookie. Obviously she knows better than you do.”

“Fucking…” Jungkook spat on him, once again trying to push the blade into his throat, Jimin retorted, flinging the blade from his grip and hitting Jungkook in the chest.

“Jimin!” The pink haired on shouted, kicking Jungkook off harshly and reaching for the orange hair. You didn’t notice the tall, tanner male reach for Jungkook and drag him near the desk at the front of the room.

“Stop pulling my hair!” Jimin shouted, digging his nails into the pink haired ones arm so he’d let him go.

“You fucking cut Jungkook! You better be thanking God it’s not a deep cut, you dumb ass. Get the fuck out, go find a place to stay tonight!”

“It’s not me that started beating on him! Kick Jungkook the fuck out!”

“I’m not going to say it again, Jimin. Go.” He snarled, dropped his hair and walking off towards Jungkook. The pink haired one dipped down and snatched the switch blade away from him, throwing it angrily at the wall. You flinched, moving aside before watching it hit and stick into the wall with perfect precision.

“God!” He shouted at the top of his lungs.

Jungkook weakly stood up, coming towards you. You saved him from merely toppling over, and he was dripping blood all over your blouse.

“Jungkook if you don’t fucking come back tomorrow and help with this bust I’ll kill you myself.” The pink haired one threatened, and Jungkook merely nodded. Jimin was on his phone, dialing a number into it and holding it against his ear. You noticed he’d been hung up on already, and was attempting to call once more. He left the room without a single glance towards you or Jungkook, but still playfully gave Hoseok a kick. The door closed with a slam, but Jungkook and you were the next to leave.

Once safely in your apartment, you slammed the door shut and walked away from Jungkook entirely. He followed you throughout the small apartment, before shutting you off into the bedroom both of you shared. He caught your wrist in his hand, and you noticed the blood crusted on his knuckles and under his finger nails. Unsure if it was his or Jimin’s, you ignored it.

“Jungkook let go,” you snapped, but he didn’t listen. His expression was tired, sad, and he couldn’t seem to let go of you. Jungkook leaned his forehead against yours, his eyes gazing into yours intensely.

“I did that for you.” His voice was quiet, and you had to shut your eyes tightly to keep from the rush of emotions suddenly hitting you. “I did it so you would know I’d always protect you, no matter if I’m best friends with whoever hurts you or mortal enemies.”

“I know,” you mumbled. “I know that, but I told you not too!”

Upon opening your eyes, Jungkook let go of you, moving across the room. “I didn’t think about what you were going to see. Are you scared of me, now?”

“No way. I would never be scared of you, Jungkook.” You neared him, placing both hands on his shoulders. He sighed loudly, before embracing you into a hug. The smell of blood filled your nostrils, and that made you have to push him away. Jungkook allowed you to silently bring him into the bathroom, where he raised his ruined shirt over his head and discarded it. You leaned over the bath tub, turning on the hot water and balancing it out with the cold. You made sure the bath was an appropriate heat for Jungkook. He enjoyed searing hot.

Once the bath was filled and he was fully naked, Jungkook climbed into the bath. He leaned into the warmth, exhaling loudly in satisfaction.

“I’ll have to burn that shirt soon,” his comment hung in the air, and you stood up to shuck your blood stained blouse off your body as well. The tank top underneath wasn’t so bad, but you ended up taking it off as well.

“Come in here and wash off, too.” Jungkook took a fistful of your pants, turning you around so he could unbutton and push them down your legs. His chest was no longer bleeding from the cut, but it still looked terrible. He sat up on his knees to hold your hips as you stepped out of your pants, and gently brushed his lips under your bellybutton. Once he pulled away, Jungkook looked up at you, before pulling your panties down. You took his hand and let him guide you into the bath.

Sitting down, you straddled his hips and delicately placed your hands on his shoulders. The water was just under scolding, but both of you preferred that. He undid your bra and got it off easily. Jungkook’s lips found their way between your breasts, sucking and kissing so gently you wondered if he was even there for the moment.

Jungkook rested his hands on your hips again, bringing his lips up to your neck and sucking a little harder.

“Jungkook-” your breath hitched at his name, but didn’t halt his movements. Jungkook merely grunted in response, pulling your body closer to his.

“No, stop.” You were firmer this time, but still sounded weak due to the way your breathing was so uneven. He pulled away with no expression, obviously still over thinking what you’d seen him do to Jimin.

“We need to clean you up, first.” You signed, reaching to grab the black wash cloth and dampen it with the bath water. He leaned back again, allowing you to clean all the crusted blood away from him. A small splattering sound caught both of your attention, and looking at Jungkook made you realize it wasn’t from him.

“Why are you crying?” His expression was pained, and even though you tried to keep him laying back against the tub, he didn’t.

“Is this is how you’ll look when you come home? Bloody and almost passing out? Jungkook, I don’t want you to die to make money!”

His sigh filled the room. “How else am I going to make money? I didn’t finish school and I’ve been living off of you for months. The most of a job I’ll get is just working at a corner store ripping people off.”

“Its better than killing people, or selling drugs.” You choked back a sob, and he cupped both of your cheeks. Jungkook used his thumbs to wipe the tears on your cheeks, save for the fresh ones tumbling down at a quick pace. He smiled in an encouraging way, but that didn’t fill you with good feelings.

“I’ll never die, or get caught. I’m with the best gang in this city, and that says something. Stop giving me that look, don’t you trust me? I almost just killed someone I work with and I barely got a scratch.”

“He almost stabbed you.” You whispered, and he shook his head curtly.

“This little cut? It didn’t even bleed 10 minutes.”

“Jungkook,” you warned. “You’re really planning on coming home after murdering someone and then coming to bed with me?”

“I’d never hurt you.” His expression changed, and he sat up fully. Jungkook was entirely serious, but that’s not what you were afraid of. He shook his head, as if trying to get rid of a thought.“Baby…I’m going to make so much money I can buy a country. For you. I never want to drag you into this lifestyle, so I’ll keep you out of everything I do, okay?”

“I don’t care about your money, you idiot! If you weren’t so beat up I would punch you right now.” You snapped, raising your fist at him.

“Kinky.” He wiggled his eyebrows at you, and this time you did hit him.

“If you come home bleeding and hurt again I’m going to take care of you like a mom does to her son after he falls down.”

“Good. If you weren’t here I’d probably just go to sleep in bloody clothes.” He took the wash cloth from you, wringing all the blood out of it and beginning on you. He was gentle on washing his own blood off your shoulder, before handing it back to you and tipping his chin to get off more blood. His face was the last thing you got too, merely because of the bloody nose and cut on his lip where it split. Other than that, Jungkook was entirely fine.

“You’re gross. Wash the blood off your knuckles and fingernails now.” You stood up, ready to get out when he stopped you.

“I love you. So much. I’m going to buy you a ring bigger than my head and you’re going to marry me.”

“What?” You almost slipping out of the bath when he said those words to you. Jungkook nodded furiously, pleased with your reaction.

“This isn’t a proposal right now but just saying I’m not letting you say no. Also, if you’re planning on getting dressed after getting out of here, don’t.” His words cut you like a freshly sharpened sword, and you were gone. Picking up one of the towels you looked back at Jungkook, beckoning him forward with your eyes.

“Are you going to attack me?”

“You bet, princess.” He pulled the plug from the tub, standing up and bringing you against him.


[n. a tiny trace or spark of a specified quality or feeling.]

genre: a little angst but fluff to make up for that 0.001% of it 

word count: 1.37K +

summary: For once, you don’t really want to punch Jungkook. based on (x). 

Originally posted by shitjeon

You stand there sniffling, with puffy eyes and hands stuffed in the pocket of your hoodie as you wait for Jimin to answer the door.

It takes an eternity before it opens, and when it does, it isn’t even Jimin. Jungkook stands there looking down at you with wide eyes, one hand holding on the door handle and the other on the toothbrush stuck in his mouth. Puffy, red eyes from all the crying wouldn’t stop you from rolling them at him, but for once he wasn’t the last person you wanted to see, so you squeeze through the doorway past him and go plop on the couch. 

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Devil Side

Chapter 2


Chapter 1
Next Chapter

You stand there speechless, like, sure, you knew he was good looking but the pictures really don’t do him justice. He’s stunning and your twenty-year-old self isn’t sure how to handle it. Mr. Woo stands there with Seoul as a backdrop; a city in the palm of his hand. He exudes power and elegance, and it makes your knees want to buckle. You clear you throat and step forward to introduce yourself but he holds out a hand to quiet you.

“Miss Y/N, right?” His slow drawl makes your insides tighten and your mouth gapes open a little. You nod, face flushing as his eyes take you in. You notice that his gaze lingers a little too long on the hem of your skirt. His eyes snap up to yours with a devilish grin. He looks… hungry?

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I have this headcanon that at first James and Lily don’t know how to do the boyfriend/girlfriend thing, but Lily introduces James as her bf and holds his hand and whatever, you know, just handles it like most normal people would manage the situation

James on the other hand acts somewhat less smoothly…


Lily would be like “ur a dolt potter” and roll her eyes, or she’d march up to him and cover his mouth with her hand because “oh my god James -look, thank you love- but for merlin’s sake you’re disturbing everyone” but the rest of the Gryffindors don’t mind because they can all see her  smile as she’s blushing and are all just thinking fiNALLY

ok so me and my best friend basically spent our whole two hours break talking about yuri because we’re both too deep and this is what we came to terms with:

-juice boxes. he tries to take beer from viktor when he’s not looking but it always ends up with yuri getting his hand smashed and a juice box stuck in his mouth

-”what are you guys talking about?” “oh, just adult stuff~” *intense anger*

-he learned english because of mcr and avril lavigne

-it doesn’t matter where yuri is, a cat always manages to show up. at one point he can be seen with about five cats following him like a mother duck

-while yuri isn’t shy by any definition, if you’re too kind to him (holding the door, checking up on him, trying to overall be a Decent Human) he can’t handle it. so he just. blushes. profusely. 

-he doesn’t like being picked up, but viktor is “””mean””” and sneaks up behind him and scoops him up bridal style if he’s yelling too much, overall just being an annoying kid…

-…when you pick him up, however, it is not an angry response. instead, he goes completely still and quiet, eyes blown wide and he curls in on himself because you just confused the heck out of him

-over time yuri starts to think of yuuri as a friend. a best friend, actually. and he gets a bit possessive.

-if someone else starts hanging around yuuri and just is nice and possibly a threat to yuri, they get a nice talking to by smol angry russian boy. then yuri just clings to yuuri and spends the rest of the day complaining and fussing

-yuri thinks he’s a mature, strong guy who could kick anyone’s ass but let’s be real here if anyone tried to ACTUALLY fight this kid he’d cry

-he picks a fight with those triplets at one point and gets his ass kicked while viktor films it, yuuri tries to break it up, and the triplet’s parents (can’t remember their names rn) are laughing in the background

-yuri loves pokemon. like, not ironically, not because it’s popular again, he just really, really loves pokemon. Meowth is his favorite, Purrloin is a close second.

was i productive today? no. did i make high quality headcanons? also no. but i made myself and my best friend laugh so that’s all that matters i guess

increasingly nsfw domcas/subdean headcanons

• when dean can’t handle being complimented on his appearance or submission, cas just slaps a hand over his mouth, or shoves in his fingers to hold down dean’s tongue, and calmly continues talking

• obviously cas loves getting dean up against doors or walls so he can pin him in place, but he also likes being up against a wall himself so he call pull dean tightly against him, by his belt loops or jeans pockets or bare skin, and use the strength in his upper arms to hold him there, even if dean writhes or tries to drag him away

• since they started this whatever-it-is, at no time has dean not had bruises or marks somewhere, because cas monitors every inch of skin carefully and when he sees them fading he makes new ones

• cas uses his angelic sense of time to keep track of how long dean is paralyzed/unconscious/blissed-out after he comes, and has a mental list of which techniques work best and when to use them (e.g. if it’s a weekday morning he doesn’t want to immobilize dean, but if it’s the middle of the afternoon on saturday then he’s content to watch him try to catch his second wind, dragging his fingertips lightly over the tops of dean’s thighs, waiting for the instant his fucked-out gasps for oxygen turn back into shivery breath-hitches)

• he did once, early on, still befuddled by and groggy with desire, try to fuck dean’s armpit just to see if it could be done; but dean kept choking on laughter and saying it was too ticklish until finally, frustrated, cas held him down by both shoulders and moved a few inches up and over until he was half-buried in dean’s mouth, at which point dean froze and stopped laughing, until cas shifted again, straddled his rib cage, palms grinding into dean’s biceps, and said harshly, “dean, I know you can take me deeper,” and to both their surprise, he could; which is how dean’s room at the bunker got a fist-sized hole punched in the wall above his bed.

• cas knows that half the stuff he proposes, dean’s going to freak out about for at least 24 hours, and immediately declare it dirty and pervy and completely off the table: until it simmers long enough in his mind for him to admit that he always wanted to try whatever it is

• that’s why cas tends to suggest new things post-coitally, or even during sex, so that he can lean down and whisper in dean’s ear, “I’m going to come inside you, about to come so hard, dean, just a few more thrusts, I’m so close, you feel so fucking hot and tight and incredible I can’t stop it, can’t stop fucking into you—but you aren’t allowed to, not until l suck my come out of you and feed it back into your mouth, is that understood?” and dean immediately seizes up with a groan and bucks down once, sharply, burying his face in the sheets as he comes all over cas’s hand, saying “shit, fuck, l’m sorry, dammit, l’m sorry” as cas hides a smile between dean’s shoulder blades and fucks him steadily through the aftershocks, knowing exactly what he was doing (because now dean’s apologetic enough to let him try it next time)

• everyone knows that cas gets crazy sexhair from dean running his hands through it whenever he gets the chance; but he also gets it from grabbing it himself when he orders dean to undress them both, and it’s still overwhelming for him at times to watch dean smirk and pull off all his layers one by one (for which slutty display of skin he’ll later be punished, as he knows full well)

• when dean keeps asking if cas is disappointed that he never had the chance to move the furniture around with meg, cas finally gets it: it’s dean who can’t stop thinking about it. so cas ties him up one night with soft secure hemp rope until dean can’t move a muscle, and then cas, completely nude, rubs all over him, describing in exquisitely lurid, detailed whispers and moans exactly what he would have done with meg, starting with pulling her hair during what would have no doubt been an expert blow job, spanking her round ass until she was pleading and dripping wet (which, by this point, dean is as well; also cursing a blue streak, whining with jealousy and arousal, and so hard it hurts); how then cas would have her ride his face, sucking her off while pinching her nipples until she’d lost count of how many orgasms she’d had, and then he’d have fucked her, held her down underneath him while he fingered her ass until they both came screaming—which, coincidentally, by this point is also exactly what cas has done to dean.

• (“so would you still wanna sleep with her, if she showed up now?” dean asks later, hoarsely, trying to sound indifferent, from within the protective circle of castiel’s arms. cas brushes through dean’s still-sweaty hair, drops kisses along the side of his face. “I think if we did have a third, you should be allowed to pick that person,” he says thoughtfully; “although perhaps you’d prefer another man. and maybe,” he says innocently, shifting against the pillows and biting delicately into dean’s neck, earning him a stifled noise, “maybe you’d like to hear what I would have done to:“—he whispers a name into dean’s ear simply for the pleasure of seeing dean’s eyes go wide with shock. "how the fuck did you figure that out?” “I was an angel, dean, not a baby in a trenchcoat.”)

• cas always threatens to gag dean if he won’t stop pleading so loudly but he can’t bring himself to use anything more silencing than underwear, neckties, or his hand; because when dean begs, cas drinks in every muffled garbled syllable of longing—he expands, preens, feels like a seraph again, filled with the host, like blue-white light is going to shine out of every pore

• the first time he held dean over both knees and spanked him to tears, he had to clench his thighs to keep from coming

• cas may give off some vague social impression of being lazy or noncommittal but dean knows better: he’s not only seen cas carving bloody sigils into himself but now also knows the ruthless, implacable castiel who makes him put on a cockring and then count each blow of the flogger aloud, teasing along his perineum with it before striking some other place entirely, making dean twitch and jerk and swear, and won’t let up until he’s limp with pain and pleasure, head drooping and so deeply into it that he’s all but drooling, at which point cas strokes him slowly with the flogger as his skin cools and tightens and feeling rushes back in, then pulls dean back into a firm embrace, praising him and telling him how well he took it, how beautiful he is, how perfect and good, bringing him back up into consciousness while he makes dean lick his palm, “more, sweetheart, get it wet for me, as wet as my mouth, go on,” and then jacks him off so slowly dean thinks he’ll never be able to breathe or see straight again

• cas discovers almost right away that his own orgasm is an afterthought; that while he wants dean’s obedience and service and submission—seeing dean like this makes power coil down low in his stomach, makes it harder to breathe—it’s enough in itself; and when he comes down dean’s throat, holding his own breath, completely rigid, flooded with sensation, it’s less that he wants it from dean and more that dean wants to give it to him

• he also wants to be the sole source of dean’s pleasure and release; so busty asian beauties (“dean, it manages to be both sexist and racist at the same time”) is finally off the laptop for good. if cas is not around and dean feels aroused, he has to text and ask permission to come, and then has to do it exactly the way cas tells him to, even if he doesn’t like it (“you have 45 seconds, and not one more” or “fingers up the ass only, and you can only use two”)

• “jesus christ, cas.”
“…what the hell was that?”
“that…was us.”
“you kinky son of a bitch. I guess it is always the quiet ones.”
“I assume you’re not referring to yourself, since I think everyone in kansas heard you come.”
“what, me, was I loud? …okay, okay, don’t smite me! l’m kidding!”
“it’s also impossible for me to be kinky alone, dean. you’re participating as well.”
“…yeah. you know what, forget I said anything. that was totally average, normal, vanilla, suburban sex, which, actually, if it gets any more boring we should probably see a therap—hey! what the—oh.”
“shhh. hold still.”
“—oh shit. cas, what are you…you know it’s too s—it’s too s—fuck..”
“fuck, don’t stop, cas, please—”
“can you hold still by yourself, dean, or would you rather be tied again? either way is…more than fine with me.”

BH6 Cereal Headcanons
  • Wasabi: Carefully measures out an equal amount of cereal and milk to make the perfect ratio, and each bite is a perfect mix of the cereal and milk. Makes sure to drink all the milk so there aren't any drops left. Eats something gross like Rasin Bran.
  • Honey Lemon: Pours the cereal and milk in at the same time in a colorful bowl while somehow multitasking on her phone, then takes a photo of it to post on social media (like her blog/Instagram). Uses a cute spoon that has a cat paw as the handle. Her favorite cereal is something like Lucky Charms.
  • Gogo: Pours in the cereal first while unscrewing the cap of the milk with her other hand, holds the spoon in her mouth while doing so. Plans her meals. Keeps the fridge and cupboard open ahead of time, and puts everything back as quickly and smoothly as possible. Eats whatever cereal is cheapest, but mostly goes for stuff like Cheerios.
  • Fred: Eats out of the box and chews with his mouth open; shoves cereal into his mouth with a spoon (because he has to have a LITTLE etiquette, otherwise Wasabi would go insane) and chugs the milk from the gallon/glass after. Most of the time he does this while reading one of his comics, and ends up spilling milk on his shirt. Doesn't even care what cereal he's eating, it's cereal, and cereal is great.
  • Hiro: The most atrocious, rebellious cereal-making method of all- milk first, cereal second. He says he does it because he likes to be a rebel; secretly, he puts more milk than cereal because he's trying to grow taller. Chews with his mouth open on purpose to annoy Tadashi. He has a specific cereal bowl and spoon that are based off of his favorite TV show. Tries to nick some of Aunt Cass's cereal, but is often left with something with reduced sugar.
  • Baymax: Shakes the box a little too roughly and has a boatload of cereal pour out onto the counter; while trying to clean it up, knocks the milk over and spills that too. As a wise robot once said, "Oh no."
  • Tadashi: Probably the most normal out of the bunch. Completely focuses on his bowl, except when he's telling Hiro to stop watching TV more than he's eating, otherwise the cereal's going to get soggy. Washes and puts away his own dish when he's finished. Eats the same cereal as Hiro so Hiro doesn't feel like he's missing out. Occasionally sneaks in some of Hiro's absolutely favorite, sugary box with the groceries and hides it in the bedroom.
  • Aunt Cass: Adds a little sugar and honey, mixes it thoroughly so it tastes just right. Sits at the table and crosses her legs like she's meditating. Mochi often curls up under her chair. Her favorite cereals are fruity, sugary ones, like Froot Loops. Though, she tries not to binge on it too often and keeps it in a separate cupboard so Hiro doesn't try to take it. (He does it anyway.)

anonymous asked:

Akaashi, Kuroo, Oikawa, Daichi trying to fix their gf's most prized possession to apologize for breaking it in the first place.

(tweaking slightly)

Akaashi: “Sorry,” he’d whisper when he accidentally knocked into a photo frame of yours. The frame toppled to the ground and the loud cracking sound of broken glass caused Akaashi to wince. He’d gently brush the glass off to retrieve the picture- one of you and your late grandmother. Since Akaashi was being so sweet about the whole thing, you couldn’t help but forgive him, especially when he rushed out to get you a replacement frame. 

Kuroo: His heart dropped to his stomach when he accidentally handled one of your precious stuffed animals a little too roughly, and its seams started to come undone. As he was panicking with the tattered toy, you came into the room and your eyes widened when you saw what he was holding. Before you could jump to any conclusions, Kuroo hurriedly opened his mouth to apologise and ask you what he could do to make it better. 

“I just- it’s been with me since I was ten. Mend it?” You smiled sweetly and Kuroo was all to happy to get away so easily. He mended it, of course.

Oikawa: He was about as sentimental as you were, so when he accidentally spilled his drink all over your locket, Oikawa felt bad for you. He’d frantically try to wipe it, of course, but just his luck that the drink decides to stain the metal. 

Oikawa presents you with the ruined locket when you come home that day, along with the best replica he could find at the mall, hoping you wouldn’t be mad.

Daichi: He sat on your precious camera- a rookie mistake- and his heart plummeted when he heard a cracking sound. He’d confront you straight away and offer to buy you a new camera as compensation. You were at him, but Daichi was being so sincere and he genuinely looked apologetic, so you let him by this time. 

Yugyeom #15

“Hey, are you o-” Yugyeom puts his hand over your mouth shushing you. It’s 2am and Yugyeom pleaded you to come over because of something urgent, really urgent. He pulled you into the bathroom, his hand’s still covering your mouth. He locked the door behind as you slapped his hands away “What is wrong wit-” “Shh!” Yugyeom cuts you off “If they heard us we’re dead” he said looking at you. “Why are we here?!” you whisper-yelled at him. He started scratching the back of his head smiling shyly at you “About that .. I kind of like .. sort of .. need you” he said. You covered you mouth stifling a laugh “And you couldn’t handle that yourself?” you asked teasing him. He pouts “Aniyo .. it’s just that, it’s better with you” he said holding your hand like a schoolgirl with her crush, which totally contrast the things he was saying. You smiled pulling his face started kissing him. He smiled through the kiss biting your lips softly “Thank you” he said before pushing you up against the wall deepening the kiss. Your hand found it’s way on his hair pulling it. He hand lifted the hem of your shirt as he touches your stomach up to you boobs. You arched your back letting him unclasp your bra. He then came back to your front kneading your breast gently in the most pleasurable way possible. He plays with you nipple letting it go hard before pinching it slightly. Your moans started to get a little bit louder because of Yugyeom’s touching. He stopped “Better be quiet or they’ll hear you” he said before sucking back on your neck continuing your midnight rendezvous.


or did they melt
when your blood boiled with orphan rage?

when he touched you for the first time since you fell,
your heart dropped
into your stomach.
your nerves sparked up,
reconnected their frayed wires under his forgiving palms.
you never knew how bad
you needed to make him your home
until after it was too late.

your hands should never shake
when they curl around the handle of a blade,
but they do now that you know
what it feels like
to hold your cold, un-feeling hand over his chest
and not be able to feel his heart.
what it feels like to wrap your fingers around his throat,
what it feels like to fear you’ll kill your own god.

And that’s what he is. your god.
His word is scripture. His body is your temple.
Your name leaving his mouth is gospel.

but you still have flesh.
you can still trace the curve of his jaw,
you can feel the warm flush of his cheeks
when you tell him how much he means
to you.
map the notches of his spine.
kiss his bruised knuckles and welcome him home.

—  things you will remember with the passing of time; e.v
Heartbreak- Luke

He found her crying on the floor of her bathroom at 3am on a Saturday morning. The world had gotten to much for her to handle at that point she couldn’t hold it in any longer. So she cried and cried, and his heart broke at the sight in front of him, but none the less he did not hesitate to cradle her in his arms and let her cling to him. He didn’t know what to say to her, he opened his mouth but no words came out, so he stayed quiet. When the sobs made her body shake, he’d only hold her tighter. She did not deserve this, he thought quietly to himself. No boy was worth the heartbreak that seemed to always come with them. “What’s wrong with me?” She croaked and his heart seem to shatter into a million pieces. Nothing. Nothing was wrong with her. But if he said that she’d only think he was lying. So he said “Well for starters you go out with a bunch of assholes.”

“Yeah I do” She laughed, beginning to wipe the tears away from her eyes. She got up and looked at herself in the mirror “I look like shit” She sighed turning the sinks handle to wash her face as he got up off the floor. “Then you are the most gorgeous shit I have ever laid eyes on” He chuckled and she couldn’t help but crack another smile. He loved it when she smiled. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you Luke” She admits, turning around to face him and his smile drops. He didn’t really know how to respond, so he just hugged her and they stayed like that for a long time. How could he explain to her that he was the lucky one? How at night images of her face would run around in his brain, as if they were the perfect pieces to a puzzle he’d been waiting a long time to solve. How his days did not seem as gray when she was around? How could he explain to her that he was falling in love with her, little by little everyday?

I don’t know how I feel about this :/ Any thoughts?


    Skinny hadn’t meant to break his nose, just hurt it. A lot. It was Baby’s own fault for taunting him all day and night, endlessly re-establishing that Baby was in charge and that Skinny was little more than a good slave to him.

    “Should’ve kept your mouth shut if you can’t handle it, Baby!” he replied. “Own fuckin’ fault! If ‘s broken, it’s your own fucking fault!”

“Fuckin’ prick!” he was leaning over so the blood wouldn’t run down his throat. “Fuckin’ blood on my FUCKIN’ pegs– FUCK!” He stepped towards Skinny then, reaching to grab hold of Skinny’s hair. He grabbed his quiff and pulled downwards. “CUNT!”

He Who Holds The Dagger

wingedlioness as requested! Originally inspired by a conversation with thisisevenharderthannamingablog a bit of fluff to combat all the angst! 

Nobody knows how he got it. After Emma had failed to respond to Killian’s summoning they had brought the dagger back to the Charming’s loft. One moment it was sitting on the low coffee table and the next the baby had grasped it by the hilt and stuck the handle into his mouth.

There was a general outcry of shock followed by his parents quickly wresting the dagger away which led to Neal crying inconsolably. Snow tried to placate him with his favorite stuffed animal, a baby tiger Emma had given him, but he pushed it away and reached for the dagger.

“Oh just give him the damn thing!” Regina cried.

“Language!” Charming scolded causing the Queen to roll her eyes. But they didn’t argue that for everyone’s frayed nerves it would be easier to let Neal have the dagger.

The problem was that once he had it he wouldn’t let it go.

“Seriously?” Emma cried when she finally turned up and saw the state of her dagger. Neal was teething and the leather handle was covered in drool and teeth marks, not to mention the bit of poop stuck to the blade from sticking it into his diaper earlier when Snow wasn’t looking.

She was met with laughs, the hysterical kind of laughter that comes after days of stressfully trying to locate a loved one, and shrugs.

“We’ve tried taking it away.” Snow explained. “It’s very normal for a kid his age to have a comfort item.”

“Ya. Sure. An ancient, powerful and sharp magical object is the perfect choice for a toy.” Emma snarked.

“It seems he takes after his sister.” Killian said from his place at Emma’s side.  

That night Emma awoke from a deep sleep with a strange compulsion. She shuffled downstairs to find her mother rocking her little brother, the dagger gleaming in his hand.


“He wants his blanket,” she said with a furrowed brow as her feet carried her to the blanket draped across the couch.


“Neal. He wants his blanket.” She lifted it and handed it to Snow.

“How did you?”

Emma shook her head. “I don’t know. It must be the dagger picking up on his needs, turning them into commands.”

Over time it seemed Neal caught on to the strange connection between him and Emma and his commands became more specific and frequent. She knew when his diaper needed changing, when he was hungry or tired or bored, and when he wanted something or wanted a game played. She knew all of it because he forced her to fix it.

“I mean I am sure there are worse ways for the dagger to be abused.” Emma complained one day to Killian. “But couldn’t you or Henry take it? Give me a break from being a baby slave?”

He smirked. “Well, love, we have tried taking it. But he won’t stop crying. This solution seems harmless.”

She snorted. “Tell that to my hoarse voice after he made me sing "A Pirate’s Life for Me” half the night. Thanks for teaching him that by the way.“

His smirk broke into a smile and a soft chuckle. "Perhaps you could think of it as practice?”

Her eyes flew wide and she opened her mouth to tell him just how unfunny he was when she felt Neal calling her. She shot her boyfriend a dirty look before disappearing to play peek-a-boo for an hour.

In the end it was Belle who came up with a solution. She arrived with the fake dagger that Rumple had given her and a triumphant smile. After a bit of fussing Neal settled down with the fake and Emma was free once again to sleep through the night and turn diaper duties over to David.  

Emma wouldn’t admit it to anyone but she kind of missed the connection.

Aryan was shivering all over, shaking like he was deathly ill as he felt the ash covering him like a grimy film. He didn’t know what to do, he didn’t know where to go or who to find—he was up against one of the walls, holding himself as  he tucked his body as far back in the corner as he would go. Inhaling to let out a sigh, he came to the abrupt realization that the inside of his dry mouth was coated with ash. Unable to handle that, he stood up, running across the hallway to a trash can and vomiting violently, completely oblivious to his surroundings.