as you can probably tell by now i miss them so much

The Friendly Wager (Part 5)

Summary: AU. Reader and Bucky Barnes are neighbors and best friends. After yet another bad date, reader comes home to find Bucky with his typical weekend target. They decide to make a wager about dating, but is there more on the line than reader cares to admit?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 2,562

Warnings: language, fluff, sarcasm, drinking, bad jokes, angst

A/N: This is my submission for the lovely Kait’s ( @bionic-buckyb) 5k AU Challenge. Congrats on the followers, friend! My prompt was “Can you please come over so I don’t feel so alone?

Part 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7

Tags are closed. Only two parts left after this! I’m really sorry for pushing out two updates but I’m running out of time and work is going to be tough, so…

Originally posted by darlingpanslove

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What we really need is an adaptation of the original 1740 The Beauty and the Beast

So were you aware that the The Beauty and the Beast story we all know is a heavily abridged and rewritten version of a much longer novella by Gabrielle-Suzanne Barbot de Villeneuve?  And that a lot of the plot holes existing in the current versions exist because the 1756 rewrite cut out the second half of the novella, which consisted entirely of the elaborate backstory that explains all the weird shit that happened before?  And that the elaborate backstory is presented in a way that’s kind of boring because the novel had only just been invented in 1740 and no one knew how they worked yet, but contains a bazillion awesome ideas that beg for a modern retelling?  And that you are probably not aware that the modern world needs this story like air but the modern world absolutely needs this story like air?  Allow me to explain:

The totally awesome elaborate backstory that explains Beauty and the Beast

  • Once upon a time there was a king, a queen, and their only son
  • But while the prince was still in his infancy, in a neat reversal of how these fairy tales usually go, the king tragically died, leaving his wife to act as Regent until their son reaches maturity
  • Unfortunately, the rulers of all the lands surrounding them go, “Hmm, the kingdom is ruled by a woman now, it must be weak, time for an invasion!”
  • And the Queen goes, “Well, if I let some general fight all these battles for me, he’ll totally amass enough fame and power to make a bid for the throne; if I want to protect my son’s crown, I have no choice but to take up arms and lead the troops myself!
  • (Btw, I want to stress that this woman is not Eowyn or Boudica and nothing in the way her story is presented suggests that she had any interest martial exploits before or in any way came to enjoy them during these battles.  This is a perfectly ordinary court lady who would much rather be embroidering altar covers for the royal chapel and playing with her child until necessity made her go, “Oh no, this sucks, I guess I have to become a Warrior Queen now” and she just happened to kick ass at it anyway.)
  • And the Queen totally kicked ass, but the whole “twice as good for half the credit” thing meant that no matter how many battles she won, potential enemies refused to take her and her army seriously until she had defeated them so no sooner would she fend off one invasion than another one would pop up on a different border.
  • So she spent the majority of her young son’s life away from the castle leading armies, but it was OK because she left him in the care of her two best friends, who just happen to be fairies!  This was an awesome idea because a) fairies have magic, and therefore are like the best people to protect the prince from any threats and b) fairies consider themselves to be so above humanity that the lowest fairy outranks the highest mortal, so they’d have no interest in taking a human throne.  Good thing they were both good fairies instead of one good and one evil one!
  • (Spoiler:  they were not both good fairies.)
  • So the two fairies basically take turns raising the prince until he’s old enough to rule.  And on the eve of his twenty-first birthday, the evil older one comes into the prince’s bedroom.
  • “So listen, kid.  You’re about to become king, your mother’s on her way home from the war to see you crowned, and I have a third piece of good news for you!  You see, I’ve actually been spending so much time here lately because Fairyland’s become a bit too hot to hold me for reasons totally not related to me being secretly evil.  And if I have to hang in the human world, I might as well reside in the upper echelons of it, so even though as a powerful fairy I completely eclipse your puny human status in a staggeringly unimaginable way, since you’re about to be king and since my premonition that I should stick this whole guardianship thing out because you would be hot one day has totally proved accurate (go me), I will graciously lower myself to allowing you to marry me.  Please feel free to grovel at my feet in gratitude.  (Btw, we can totally start the wedding night now, we’ll tell your mother about it when she arrives tomorrow.)”

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the no bullshit guide to getting your shit together: for the lazy student

Let’s be honest: time management and organization? They’re really hard. Sure, at first you might feel like you’ve gotten the hang of them, that you’re in control of your life. But how often have you fallen off the wagon? Procrastinated on one thing and the next moment, you’re behind in all your classes? I know that sometimes laziness feels like a part of who you are, but honestly, fuck that. Do you really want to give up your success for the disinterest of a moment?

If your answer is no (it better be no, or you really need to get your priorities straight), let’s get to it. 

STEP ONE: BE HONEST WITH YOURSELF

“This class doesn’t even matter.” “I don’t care about my grades.” “I can finish this the day before.” Sound familiar? You might feel great now, but when you’re staring down at your report card later, it’ll feel like you just got punched. 

This is a cliche, but the greatest obstacle to your success is yourself - especially the lies you tell yourself! Sit yourself down and be honest about what you need to improve on. Be as blunt as you can, but for god’s sake, don’t throw yourself a pity party! There’s no use agonizing over what you can’t change. Instead, set realistic, achievable goals, and make a game plan. Struggling with math? Go to extra help. Behind in all your classes? Stay in for a couple nights and actually work. 

STEP TWO: STOP WITH THE FANCY SHIT

Now you know what your goals are, but maybe you want some inspiration, so you log on to tumblr and are instantly bombarded by all these beautiful, well lit shots of the most gorgeous bullet journals, planners, and notes. Impressive, right? Well, I’m gonna let you in on a little secret: they’re all useless! A simple phone planner works just as well, if not better, than a fancy agenda, because you’ll always have it on you, it’s not a hassle to carry around, and you don’t feel obligated to make it look pretty. 

Riddle me this, where are you going to find all this extra motivation to keep prettying up your bullet journal? To write all your notes in perfect, colour coded printing? There aren’t many times in life where taking the easy was out will actually benefit you, so take advantage! Stop wasting your time; get a phone planner and write your notes in your natural goddamn handwriting. 

STEP THREE: CLEAN YOUR ROOM

Yep, your entire room - not just your study space! This one can be put on the back burner for a bit if you’re on a really pressing deadline, but I wouldn’t recommend it. I’m notoriously messy, and if I don’t watch myself, I’d find myself in dirty-laundry-and-old-notes hell. A little bit of organized chaos is fine, I even encourage it! But try working when your desk is covered in mounds of paper and you have nowhere to put your laptop – it’s just not conducive to success. 

Keeping your entire room clean is a way to stave off stress, frustration, and even embarrassment, because nobody wants to show potential roommates how much of a mess they are. 

STEP FOUR: ACTUALLY WORK

Yeah, I know what you’re thinking: “actually work? Who does this girl think she is?” I’d probably think the same thing, except I’ve learned the valuable lesson of sucking it the hell up, and you will too. When you get home from work, grab a snack and work. When you have a free period, figure out what’s due and work. Stop reasoning yourself out of work: you’re not going to finish this later, and that will be on the test. There’s really not much to say about this one, because it’s the step that requires the most raw effort, and you’re really only going to find that within yourself. Tell yourself what’s at stake, and realize that, by setting the standard for your mediocrity now, you’re potentially trapping yourself in a cycle that will last for years. 

STEP FIVE: CUT YOURSELF SOME SLACK

Maybe you’ve been on top of your shit for a day, a week, or even a month, and that’s really great. But then… you fail. You miss a deadline or you bomb a test. So what do you do now? Do you allow yourself to fall back into your old habits? Fuck no! Everyone fails, even that studyblr with those perfect bullet journal photos and a perpetually clean study space. I’m going to tell you something that’ll sound really strange: you should value your failures, especially if you worked hard to avoid them. What?! Be HAPPY about failing when I actually TRIED? Yeah, you heard me right. If you don’t know how to handle failure, then when you inevitably experience it, your reaction will be much worse. 

Failing hurts, and boy, I know how embarrassing it can be. But learning how to deal with failure, and especially how to keep trying after it happens, is an invaluable lesson. 

STEP SIX: TREAT. YO. SELF.

Disclaimer: I’m not suggesting you treat yourself after the most basic of tasks, because please. Treat yourself when you know you goddamn well deserve it. Remember that “all work and no play makes jack a dull boy.” If all you do is study and do your homework, then, pardon my french, your life sucks. If you don’t have friends, play a video game! Eat an entire jumbo chocolate bar! Indulge in whatever the fuck you want, you deserve it. I’m someone that has trouble prioritizing future benefits over immediate gratification, so by allowing myself little pleasures, I save myself from crashing and burning. 

Hope these tips helped, but remember to take them with a grain of salt - you’re you and I’m me, and different things work for different people. Good luck!

It’s time for another Hiveswap development team interview!

Hey there, Hiveswap and Homestuck fans! Ash here once again, and as promised, it’s time for another interview with the talented folks on Hiveswap’s development team! And don’t worry – if you missed the first interview, with our environment art director Rah, you can find it right here!

Who’s in the hot seat today? Why, it’s Adrienne, our lead animator! She can tell you far more about her work on the project than I ever could, so without further ado, I’m going to hand things off to her – after reminding you all to take good, long looks at the wonderful examples of her work peppered throughout this interview. Take it away, Adrienne!

Introduce yourself to the fans! What is your specific role on the Hiveswap team?

Hiya! My name’s Adrienne and I’m the lead animator for Hiveswap. I work together with Angela, the animation director, on roughs, cleanup, background and cutscene animation – anything that moves!

When and how did you get your start on the Hiveswap project?

I was hired full-time in January 2016, but I started doing some sprite conceptualization in late 2015 in tandem with [S]:Collide work (I animated sprites for the main big bads and did thumbnails for some of the sequences).

Tell us a little bit about your career background! How did you get your start in animation? Do you have any advice for others looking to enter this field?

Homestuck is basically my career background, ahaha.

I drew a lot of fan art for Homestuck after I finished catching up in late 2012. I got some attention from my work and I was asked to do comic pages for Paradox Space. Then I did work for the Homestuck calendar. Then I just became more involved in the comic after that by doing thumbnails, sprite animation, comic pages, snapchats… and now I’m working on the game… it’s been a wild ride from fan to full-time fan.

But as for how I got started in animation, a lot of it was influenced by anime and then DeviantArt while I was growing up. I grew up with Naruto and loved Norio Matsumoto’s work in it (he did the key animation for the best episodes!). And on DeviantArt, I liked following OCTs (Original Character Tournaments) and was particularly inspired by Unknown-Person’s work.

My general advice would be to value learning and exploration, and have less expectations of what life should hand you – it makes a lot of circumstances feel like a pleasant surprise and a good opportunity to learn something new. That’s how I felt when I stumbled into this field anyway, haha.

We’re making a video game, so of course the question must be asked: what’s your favorite game of all time, and what games are you playing currently (if any)?

Agh, what a difficult question. My most-played genre is colorful multiplayer shooters like Team Fortress 2, Overwatch, and Splatoon.

I finished Nier: Automata recently and now I’m working through Persona 5. But when I’m not working through that game, I play Breath of the Wild (most of my time is spent riding my horse around Hyrule – it’s very calming).

Are there any games that you currently use or have used as inspiration for your own animation work here on Hiveswap, or just in general?

I generally use Homestuck flash animations as an inspiration for Hiveswap sprite animations.

When I’m working on cutscenes, I look to Professor Layton stuff. I love how they integrated cutscenes with gameplay in that series.

As an animator, you must have some favorite cartoons and/or anime – tell us about them!

My recent favorite is Mob Psycho 100. The raw and rough quality of the animation for that one is my jam and the main cast is really inspiring. Avatar: The Last Airbender is still my top favorite for its epic storytelling and world-building. Naruto always has a special place in my heart since it’s one of the earliest things that inspired me to study animation.

Other big influential works for me were Princess Mononoke and How to Train Your Dragon.

What’s your workstation like? Do you like to listen to any particular kinds of music while you work? If so, tell us about it!

Here’s a picture of my workstation! If you squint at the bottom screen closely, you can see me taking the picture. But anyway… yeah. I am a little embarrassed for people to know how saturated my workstation is with inspirational quotes (there are papers of handwritten motivation on the walls behind me), but that’s just how I deal when the anxiety gets a little rough.

When I want to focus (usually for rough animation and concept art), I pull up an electronic or classical playlist on YouTube (and recently Spotify) or have no music playing at all. But for everything else (cleanup, in-betweens, etc.), I dig into different genres once in awhile but Imagine Dragons and Americana/folk stuff are my go-to. Acoustics sound really nice in these speakers.

Favorite Homestuck character?

Egh, this is impossible… I’m gonna say it’s between Rose, Jade, Roxy, Kanaya, Terezi, and Vriska… um…

Favorite Homestuck ship?

Rose/Kanaya has never once failed me! c: (I think John/Terezi is really funny too.)

Favorite Homestuck flash?

Urgh… I don’t know, there’s so many that I love. In terms of like… cool and creative setup, [S] Cascade probably? [S] GAME OVER is cool too, because everyone died and the stakes just got so much higher. Oh! I just remembered [S] Make her pay as well!

This question is impossible.

(In the above animation timeline, the first frame is held for 4/24 of a second, the second frame for 2/24 of a second, the third for 2/24, and so on.)

Do you have a personal message you’d like to relay to all the Homestuck and Hiveswap fans out there?

Thank you for all your support, and for your patience in making it through the Giga/Mega/Omegapauses intact!

Where can people find more of your work? Link us to your own little corner(s) of the Internet!

If you want to see more of my stuff, my Tumblr is the place to be!

Thank you, Adrienne! Well, folks, I hope you’ve enjoyed this second Hiveswap development team interview – and don’t worry, there are still plenty more to come!

Now that we’ve gotten things rolling, from here on out we’ll be bringing you a new interview every Wednesday, so be sure to check back every week for a new behind-the-scenes look at the development of Hiveswap and the talented people behind it!

See you next time!

Yuri!!! On Stage Event Report!

So today (4/29/2017) I went to the Yuri on Ice Yuri on Stage event. To clarify though, I was not at the actual Tokyo event, rather a live viewing at a local movie theater. Which of course does alter the experience but it’s the next best thing. At first I thought the theater was only doing the afternoon session, but very last minute I ended up being able to attend both!

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Aisles  [M]

Aisle One

Summary: Jungkook was your best friend. You held onto his secrets. And he knew all of yours. Except for one. One that would change your friendship forever. You were in love with him.

Pairing: Reader x Jungkook

Genre: bestfriend!au, college!au, angst, smut

Word Count: 7,458

Originally posted by sugutie

Aisle One Aisle Two

“What toothpaste brand do you like?” you asked as you walked down the aisle. You were  too busy staring at the different brands of toothpaste in your hands to notice the person you were talking to wasn’t Hoseok.

“I like the one in your left hand” a strange voice responded.


Your head snapped up to look at the owner of the voice that didn’t belong Hoseok. As you took in his frame, he was definitely the complete opposite of the person you had mistaken him for.The boy in front of you was tall, muscular. His messy dark hair hidden beneath a beanie. He smiled at you and for a second you forgot how words worked, incapable of processing anything else that he was saying.


“I’m sorry, I thought you were my roommate” you nervously spat out as soon as you regained the ability to speak.


He laughed as the two of you stood awkwardly across from each other, “Don’t worry about it”


“Marco!” you heard Hoseok’s voice ring out through the otherwise quiet pharmacy.


“Polo” you responded as your cheeks flushed a million different shades of red as the boy’s face lit up even more. But you couldn’t get the nerve to look at him, avoiding eye contact by returning one of the tubes of toothpaste back onto the shelf you had taken it from. The sound of your rescue, Hoseok’s footsteps, got louder and louder as they filled the growing awkward silence between the two of you.


“Y/N, where have you been? I thought you got swallowed by a toothpaste monster or something” Hoseok teased as he walked up to the two of you.

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fake dating! zimbits

It was only by a stroke of luck that Jack happened to look at his phone just as he exits the lecture hall. The group chat was blowing up – the group chat was always blowing up these days – but the lack of all-caps or exclamation marks caught his attention right away.

Eric Bittle: Guys, I wouldn’t ask this of y’all if I really didn’t need this, but I have to ask a HUGE favor of one of you.

Shitty Knight: brah are you dying

Justin Oluransi: You can have my kidney, Bits.

Adam Birkholtz: u aren’t gonna save that for me just in CASE, JUSTIN?

Larissa Duan: shit, bitty, r u ok

Eric Bittle: Um, yeah, mostly, I just…..need someone to pretend to be my boyfriend.

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Six Years and Seven Days

This is pretending that Bellamy could hear Clarke talking all those years, she just can’t hear him responding, and that the ship at the end is them coming back to Earth. 

So…pain. 


Day Three

“Bellamy…are you up there? Are you alive? Is anyone alive?”

Static.

“I only woke up yesterday. At least, I think it was yesterday. I barely made it into the bunker in time, but I made it. And the computer says it’s been three days since the radiation hit, and I was so hungry I thought I might die. Please tell me you didn’t die.”

Silence.

“Bellamy, my mom was right. In a way. My face is disgusting, covered in boils. You’d be laughing at me…probably. Because she was right but so were you. I’m not dead Bellamy. I hope you aren’t either.”

His fingers slammed on the respond button, pushing it down to the point of it feeling like it would crack from the pressure.

“I’m not dead, Clarke. I’m not dead.”

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No, Wait, You Got it All Wrong

You know what there’s not enough of? Canon compliant future fic where Stiles is a cop and he runs into Derek again. What’s that you say? There’s a ton of that?? Yes, true, but NOT ENOUGH.

“…. so then he says, ‘No, Officer, I swear to God this is the first time I’ve ever smoked up! I’ve never been in trouble with the law in my life! And I say, Billy, my man, you’ve been in trouble with me personally twice this month.” Stiles snorts at the memory. “Kid was so fucking high.”

Amanda must be halfway past tipsy, because she laughs uproariously into her beer at the mediocre punchline.

Stiles smiles. He’s satisfied with her reaction, with the warm murmur of the bar, with the buzz he’s got going… with just about everything, actually. After tonight, he’s looking at two full days off before he’s back on the beat, and the night’s still young. He leans back in his chair and takes a pull of his beer, savoring it.

Amanda glances towards the bar, probably considering a fourth round, and then visibly perks up as something near the front catches her eye.

“Oooh, Stiles,” she croons. “Look over at the door, like, just glance over.” She’s adjusted her gaze down at the table now, faking casual disinterest. Badly.

Stiles raises his eyebrows at her.

“This dude just walked in, he’s so your type,” she hisses. “C’mon, look! I’m telling you, six feet two inches of ‘yes, please, give it to me’ muscles, with some salt-and-pepper scruff icing. Unff.”

“Eh,” Stiles says, tipping his weight forward to hunch over the table. It’s not that he isn’t interested, exactly, but this is a cop bar and he doesn’t want to shit where he eats. Metaphorically.

“No, really,” Amanda insists. “He's… oh my God, he’s looking over here. He’s looking at you. Oh my God, Stiles, he’s coming over here!”

“No, he isn’t,” Stiles scoffs. He’s filled out a bit from high school and he’s finally competent at styling his hair, but he’s not that hot. Only Amanda’s sitting straight like a rod, eyes fixed on a point behind him that’s about where a six foot two man’s eyes would be.

“Stiles?”

He turns then, shooting to his feet before his brain’s quite caught up, because that voice is familiar like the back of his own hand.

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advocacy: have some perspective, don’t throw your own people under the bus

I’ve seen a lot of discourse lately about how Blizzard is handling Emily/Tracer wrong - how there’s no sign of it in the game, etc. etc. And there isn’t, yet. There isn’t any sign Tracer is gay in the actual game, so it’s fair comment. I’ve also seem what is pretty unfair conclusions about why this is thrown around, I’ve seen really nasty snark disguised as witty criticism., and it… leaves a bad taste in my mouth, really. 

A very close friend of mine works in an AAA studio. She’s worked in gaming for 10 years. She literally works herself to the bone trying to push social justice in games - and it’s like pushing a fucking boulder uphill forever, let me tell you. I’ve watched what this tireless advocacy is doing to her. Nevertheless, she keeps going. 

It’s because of people like my friend that Overwatch exists - people who have persistently, tirelessly, at threat to their relationships, livelihoods and careers advocated for diversity and representation in games. 

I can only imagine how fucking hard it’s been to change the culture in Blizzard into a company where they publish an AAA game that is as diverse as Overwatch. It’s because of people like my friend, allies, and other supportive people that we have Overwatch at all.

Let’s review some of the great things about the game: a variety of diverse races, ethnicities and identities - consultation was pretty fucking good for most of those. And they listen to our comments about what’s missing, too. We didn’t like that Pharah’s VA wasn’t Egyptian, so what did they do? They got an Egyptian VA living in Egypt to voice Ana. We didn’t like the lack of black characters, and they’ve promised more, and the latest new character is an Omnic created by child genius Efi who is black - and they got a black woman for Orisa’s VA.

Blizzard has handled female characters very well. We complained after they’d released their initial characters that the body type of the female characters was generic and not diverse. So what did they do? They gave us Zarya and Mei. We complained that Tracer was being objectified in one of her poses. What did they do? They changed the fucking pose. They have given us a Muslim single mum who’s 60 old, still a soldier, has sexual agency and is more than just her role as ‘Mum’. The spread of female characters isn’t 16-25 as per most games that have female protagonists, but 19-60, with the majority of them being in their 30s, and that is fucking great

And all of this is aside from the fact that Tracer - the face of the fucking game - is canon, confirmed lesbian in those words by both the devs and in ¾ of a big major comic. She’s in a healthy adult relationship. Plus, there’s more to come. We know more characters are queer, too. 

There’s probably more stuff to add, but off the top of my head - how great is this fucking game?????

Now, it’s not to say that all of this has been done perfectly - there’s always room for improvement. They always could do things better. But the tone of some of the posts I’ve read is as if none of this exists. As if Blizzard has spat in our faces, somehow, by not having Tracer have mentioned Emily in the game yet. The anger, the entitlement, the mockery. 

You’re mocking probably a bunch of queer people, people of colour and women who have pushed and pushed and pushed the gaming industry for decades in order to get a game like Overwatch. You’re mocking people like my friend who has slogged her fucking guts out to get what we’ve got in the games her company produces. Can you imagine what it must be like for those people, responsible for these changes in Blizzard and in the industry, to read people bitching about the fact Tracer doesn’t say anything about Emily (yet) when they’ve pushed so fucking hard just to get what we’ve gotten? 

Do you realise how horribly ungrateful and rude that sounds? You may not be aiming your criticism at these people, but they’re among us. They read social media. They’re real people with real feelings. 

Can we please have some appreciation for just how far Overwatch has taken diversity in games? Because there’s a bunch of minority folks behind this push, mark my words. 

This post is not to discourage criticism, but please, please think of the tone of voice you give it in. Don’t be cruel or unfair. Don’t mock. Don’t be ungateful, please. 

“It’s as if Emily doesn’t even fucking exist, I wonder why that is lollllll fucking blizz” works so much better as “Hey Blizz, I love that Tracer has a girlfriend! Let’s have Tracer mention Emily in the game? :D” 

There are ways to deliver suggestions and feedback that don’t shit all over the people who’ve worked so hard to bring this game to you. Please take an extra 5 seconds to consider not sounding entitled and awful, and think about how else you could deliver this feedback so you’re not hurting the people who have worked their whole lives so you have it <3

27 Dress Code Violations

@jilychallenge 04/2017 | @bantasticbeasts vs @anxiouspotter

Muggle AUs | “i get dress coded so you give me your jacket and we protest unfair regulations for girls together/you sass the teacher about how distracted you are by my shoulders”

Word Count: 2500

special shoutout to @jiilys. solidarity, sister

AO3


i.

She walks into English fifteen minutes late, wearing both a deeply unflattering smock and a scowl. Neither are an especially new look on her.

“Vector,” she says under her breath, as an answer to Mary McDonald’s unspoken question. It’s the answer to every question in the room. Ms Vector is notorious among them all for her very strict adherence to the school’s dress code.

“Yes, Miss Evans’ entrance was very exciting, but I’ll have your attention back to the lesson now, please,” says Ms McGonagall. James snaps back to attention. It’s for the best.

ii.

“Here,” James says, shrugging off his jacket and thrusting it toward Lily. She gives him this look like, fuck off, and James has to bite his tongue to stop from aggravating her. “They’re doing uniform checks up the hall. Just put it on.”

Evans gives him a very strange look, and it takes him a second to realise that it’s neutral.

She looks good in his jacket.

iii. 

Every third dress code violation results in a lunch time detention. It’s only October, and Lily’s already had six. She doesn’t look at James as she takes the seat three ahead and one to the left of him.

iv.

There’s a thump from somewhere in the back of the classroom, and McGonagall isn’t planning on looking up - it sounds like it came from the general vicinity of Potter and Black, and that’s certainly not a situation she wants to engage with - but the entire class is already turned around to see what the fuss is.

She strides down the aisle between the desks, and is about three years past surprised to find James Potter lying on the floor, gazing at the ceiling, glasses knocked aside.

“Am I boring you so much that you decided to take a nap?” she asks, and James gives this wicked smile, and here we go–

“Sorry, Miss, I can’t get up. It’s Evans’ shoulders - they’re overwhelming me. I simply can’t do anything until she covers them up. Sirius, tell me when it’s safe.”

He’s a funny boy, she’ll give him that. “Potter, get up. This is hardly the time for foolishness.”

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Too Soon - Jeff Atkins Imagine

Jeff Atkins x reader

Request: Hi i was wondering if i could request 13 reasons why imagine where the reader and Jeff have been dating for a couple months or an year…maybe have smut like they made love and then where Jeff passes away and maybe have the reader visit the grave with clay and tony to tell Jeff..that he was a dad.

WARNINGS: Fluff, smut, small swearing


“Atkins!” I scream when I see my boyfriend in the hallway. I jump in his arms wrap my legs around his torso and kiss him as if I didn’t see him in months when in reality is was literally two periods ago. I’m cheesy like that. We’ve been dating for over a year now, but everyday feels like we started dating yesterday. He never seizes to amaze me. He surprises me with flowers and I still get anxious and excited like a little girl when we go out on dates. He still does things like climb through my window even though my parents basically forced a key on him. He even does things like come over at 2am when I joke about being scared. He’s just the best boyfriend in the world.

“Hey baby” he laughs as he kisses me back. “You ready to go”

“Yes, it’s Friday and I’ve never been happier” I slide my hand in his as we walk out the school building earning a ‘bye’ or ‘what up’ from people.

As we walked to my house, Jeff kept telling me corny jokes and pick-up lines he found online last night trying to make me laugh.

“Babe, knock knock?”

“Not another one J.”

“Baaabe knock knock, come on last one I promise.”

“You said that three jokes ago” I whine.

“Oh. Knock knock?”

“Who’s there?” I sigh.

“A broken pencil” he smiles.

“A broken pencil who” I sigh, already knowing the joke.

“Never mind it’s poin-”

“Pointless” I say as I laugh dramatically. He looks at me seriously for interrupting his corny joke. 

“Sorry baby, love you!” I try to kiss him the rest of the way home as he pretends to be mad at me.  

As we walk in, he stills pretend to be mad when he stomps into my room and close the door. He closes me out my room. My room.

“Babe really” I laugh.

“Do a knock knock joke then you can come in.”

“No”

“Yes”

“Noo babe”

“Well then I’m going to go take a nap”

“No!” I roll my eyes as if he can see it. “Fine babe…knock knock”

“Who’s there” he cooed.

“Al.” I smirk.

“Al who?” 

“Al strip for you if you open this door” I smirk biting my lip. As soon as I said that, the door swung open and I’m met with Jeff’s lips as he pulls me inside. He shuts the door and pushes me up against it. 

“No need to do that” he whispers in my ear. He starts kissing and sucking on my neck and pulls up the dress I’m wearing. He slides his hands under my underwear to my butt and pulls me to him.

“J-Jeff” I moan. He looks at me and bit his lip as he throws the dress off, leaving me in just my bra and panties. He scans my body as I turn my head, feeling nervous all of a sudden. He moves my head to face him and I see such admiration in his eyes.

“You’re the most gorgeous girl I’ve ever laid my eyes on.” When he said that I wanted nothing more than to feel him on me. I throw my arms around his neck and hungrily kiss him. He grabs my legs and I jump on him as he moves us to the bed. He hovers over me as he deepens the kiss. He puts his hand behind my neck to pull me closer to him. He rubs my thigh up and down as he slowly peppers kisses all over my neck and chest. He’s painfully teasing and I can’t take it.

“Jeff” I whisper.

“Yes y/n?”

“I need you” he looks at me and simply smiles.

He continues to kiss my neck as he unclasp my bra. He starts sucking my breast and massaging the other as I run my hands through his hair. He does the same to the other and I’m a moaning mess.

“Jeff please” I moan.

“We’re almost there baby” he whispers.

He kisses down my stomach and thigh slowly, never breaking his stare from me. I whine again as he comes back and goes back to sweetly kissing me. I groan from the friction of my almost bare core against his jeans and wiggle for him to get the idea. He does and pulls off his jeans and I hastily pull off his shirt.

“Someone is ready” he giggles. I roll my eyes and roughly palm his member through his boxers making him grunt.

“Someone is hard” I mimic smirking. He tries to keep his groans in until I full on grab him and he does a full moan. Now he’s the frantic one as he rips my underwear off of me. Literally.

“Jeff!” I scream.

“Sorry baby, I’ll get you another one” he smirks. He slides his hands all over my body, making me shiver.

“You like that?” he asks. I nod as he slips a finger in me and goes back to kissing. I  whimper from his touch and go for his underwear. I push them down and his member springs out. He kicks them off and slides two fingers in this time. I moan into his mouth as he goes at a fast pace. I let out more moans as I start to get close.

“Jeff baby, I’m abou-” when I said that, Jeff pulled his fingers away and I frown. 

“I want to feel you cum, not with my fingers” he smirks.

He grabs a condom out his wallet from his pocket and slide it on. He gives me a look for confirmation and I nod, just wanting to feel him already. He pushes his length into me. At first it hurt, but it always does when we have sex because of his huge size. The longer he’s in me, the more I get used to it. He pushes in slowly and draws out a little. I start to moan as I connect my lips with his. As he picks up his pace, I dig my nails into his back. He hooks my legs over his shoulder and I scream a little.

“Je-OH My fuck!” he’s directly hitting my g-spot and I can’t even think. I moan louder as I grab the pillow under my head, arching my back. 

“Fuck princess! you feel good” he moans. 

“H-harder J-Jeff!” He goes harder and I start almost full on screaming. As we both are climaxing, Jeff pulls out and puts me on all fours. He pushes back in and grabs my breast from behind. I lean back as he kisses my neck while pounding into me. He moans into my ear as I hold the back of his neck. I can’t control my moans and screams and neither can he. They come out louder as he hits the right spot over and over again. As we get closer, I fall onto my hands and Jeff holds my waist. He roughly rubs me with his fingers as I scream to let go of my release.

“J-JEFF!” I scream.

He cums shortly after I do and collapse next to me. We lay there in a comfortable silence while I rest my head on his shoulder and his arm wrapped around me. Both still out of breath, he looks over to me.

“Knock knock?”

“Who’s there” I laugh. 

“I love”

“I love who?” I say, letting him finish it this time for his sake.

“I love you” He smiles as he kisses me.

“My corny boyfriend” I laugh.


*Tomorrow Night*

“You guys have been inseparable all night my gosh” Jessica drunkenly laughs. Me and Jeff look at each other and chuckle, knowing exactly why. We have been at Jessica’s party for a while now and have been sitting on the couch with Jessica, Bryce, and Zach.

“Leave them alone babe, that’s how we are” Justin laughs.

“Oh, you get me flowers?” when Justin doesn’t answer, all of us start cracking up. 

“Well I’m going to get a beer, you guys want one?” Zach asks as he gets up. 

“Nah no thanks man, my girl will kill me cause I’m the driver tonight” I smile when he said that, happy that he cares about his well being. We continue talking to our group of friends and have a pretty good time.

“Where is Clay and Hannah” I whisper in his ear.

“Somewhere around here, probably upstairs, I did my meddling for the night and got them together.”

“Aw how noble of you” I giggle, pinching his cheeks. “Thank you ma’am”.

“See! look at them, they are perfect” Jessica playfully whines.

“Shut up!” Justin say as he grabs her face and start full on making out. Everyone starts ewing and shooing them off the couch.

“Get a room!”

“Jess, your room is upstairs!”

“Get it Foley!”

Justin flips us all off, never breaking their kiss and we all laugh. Monty taps Jeff on the shoulder and screams over the loud music.

“Yo bro you still doing the beer run!?”

Jeff got up and nodded his head, “Yeah shit I almost forgot”

I got up with him, frowning and grab his arm before he could go anywhere, “Babe do you have to go? I’m pretty sure there is enough beer, just not enough for every single person to get ass faced drunk.”

He kissed my forehead and smiled, “I’ll be right back babe I promise”. I pick up my bag and turn towards him, “Okay then I’m coming with you”.

“Baby, you have to watch out for Clay and Hannah remember, I’ll be back in 15 minutes then we can leave right after.”

I sigh still not liking this. I know he didn’t drink anything, but I’m still nervous for him to be out this late. What if someone else out there is drunk driving? I tell myself its fine and nod my head.

“Okay fine, just be careful J.”

“I will baby, I love you.”

“I love you too.” he gives me a peck on the lips and I hold onto his hand and let it slide out once he got to far to reach it. I watch him walk out the door and sit back down onto the couch, waiting for his return.


*4 Weeks Later*

Life is unfair. Life is so unfair. Why him? Why Jeff? Why my boyfriend. Such an amazing boyfriend. Is the best. Was the best. I stare down at his tombstone and couldn’t stop my tears from falling. So many tears. I found myself screaming at night. If I wasn’t screaming I was just silent. Completely silent. I mean was there for me to say? He’s gone. Jeff Atkins is gone. Never to hold me again, never to make me feel better, never to get me the flowers, never to throw rocks outside my window. I bend down and touch his stone. 

“I-I m-miss you so much” my voice cracks. “Why d-did you h-have to leave m-me?” I start crying harder. This is my first time being at his grave, due to the fear of seeing him. The fear of seeing reality of this situation. 

“Y-you would b-be so happy right now” I hiccup as I touch my stomach. I felt the little bump and smile through my tears.

“Y-you would have told him knock knock jokes” I laugh to myself, “or her”.

“Y-you would have t-taught baseball terms” I smile.

“You would h-have been the perfect dad” I cried looking down at him, “the best”.

I put the roses he always got me onto his grave and wiped my tears, even though they kept coming down. I kissed my finger and touched them against his stone that read 

Jeff Atkins

World’s greatest son 

world’s best companion

Even a better dad

Gone but never forgotten.

“I love you Jeff”I got up and continued crying as both Tony and Clay stood there respectfully and silent, waiting for me to finish. I smile lazily at them and hooked my arm into both of theirs as we walked out of the graveyard. I look back one more time and thought to myself ‘the love of my life might be gone, but he will forever live on in my heart’


A/N - Omgg!! I cried making this ending. It was so sad to me. I hope you guys liked it and love you guys for all your support. Your imagines are not forgotten.

Good Girls Go Bad

Set in the 40’s. Y/N was your stereotypical girl next door, growing up in the apartment right across the hall from James Buchanan Barnes. She had always been the shy, reserved girl; she was the complete opposite of the enigmatic ladies man. Despite their proximity, she was sure that he didn’t even know she existed. What happens when they run into one another during a night out on the town? Is just one night all it really takes? 

Word Count: 3,408

Warnings: swearing, smut


Originally posted by evanstansource


You sighed, adjusting your dress as you gazed into the mirror. Even though it was still rather conservative, you couldn’t help but notice that it was more revealing than you were used to. The neckline plunged rather low, the collar fastened with a bow that drew attention to your cleavage. The waist was cinched, showing off your figure. Paired with the red heels that your friends had chosen for you, you were looking like a regular bombshell. Your friends had insisted that you go out with them tonight. You had turned them down too many times. They said that now, of all days, you had to accompany them. The newest army recruits would be shipping out tomorrow, and it was sure to be a lively night.

Keep reading

→ nudes, not flowers (pt. 2)

Originally posted by bangtannoonas

☆ pairing → Hoseok x Reader x Jungkook

genre → smut, fuckboi!au

warnings  → … voyeurism + exhibitionism, dom!junghope, power play?, dirty talk!!!, jealousy, demeaning names during sex, the threesome, & probably other warnings byE 

word count   → 10.4k 

☆ summary   →  you’re not supposed to fall for Jung Hoseok and his repertoire of awful pick-up lines – but you do. the problem is: he’s afraid of commitment, and bolts at the idea of settling down. you decide to stay far away from fuckboys, but his friend decides to test your new found resolutions

or : Jungkook wants to see how far he can push Hoseok until he snaps

→  pt i | pt ii (final) 

☆ a/n   → okay…so… this is just porn, but if you squint, there’s kind of a plot. you should probably start with pt 1 if you haven’t already!! 
+ shout out to the mutuals who encouraged the filth fest in this part esp @gxtsmxt @itsrainingmin !! we can have a prayer circle later to cleanse our souls
+ also tomorrow is my one month anniversary on tumblr :’)) thank you so much for all the love i’ve received this past month  ♡

Keep reading

I Don’t Mean It (pt 7)

You hesitated to open the door. You didn’t even know if Taehyung was going to be there, but something told you that he was. You look through the little peephole as if you didn’t know who was at the door. Your heart sank when you could see all seven figures there. You smiled a little though as Hoseok leaned in close to the little hole and tried to peek back.

You opened the door slowly and greeted the boys, letting them into your apartment. 

The next couple of hours went by as they usually would have. Some of the boys raided your fridge, but to their dismay, it was rather empty. Taehyung didn’t bother even looking at you or talking to you, so you wondered why he even bothered to come. He eventually excused himself to get some air on your balcony. You felt a rush of cold air rush into your otherwise warm apartment as he slid the door open. You watched his figure walk out and promptly close the door behind him.

You finally felt a little at ease, but you still didn’t know how to confront him or when. The other guys noticed the strange look on your face.

“This actually worked out well. Less work on our part” Yoongi said out of the blue.

“What?” you ask, furrowing your eyebrows in confusion.

“We actually wanted you and Tae to talk things out but we didn’t really know how to get you two alone. But this works out” Namjoon said.

“Alone? What are you talking about” you asked again.

“Yeah…we’re going to go ahead and go. You two talk and figure this out” Jin said as he and the rest of the boys got up.

“You can do it Y/N!” Jungkook said as he patted your shoulder as he and the rest of the boys walked past you. You stood there in shock. You were finally, quite literally, forced to confront Taehyung.

You finally noticed Jimin standing in front of you, not realizing that he didn’t walk out with the rest of the group.

“You can do this Y/N. We’ll always be here for you, ok? Let me know how it goes” he says with a sad smile. You couldn’t help but smile back, but you could still feel your heart race.

A few moments after the six of them were gone, you awkwardly fidgeted around your living room, constantly checking to see if Taehyung showed any signs of coming back in. After a few more minutes, you had your back faced to the balcony, checking your phone after you received a few messages from Min Joo.

You heard the balcony door open and the cold air once again and you after what felt like a few hours, you turned around. Taehyung looked around the room and he seemed very confused. 

“Where are they?” he asked finally. You realized you hadn’t heard his voice in almost two months and you realized just now how much you missed it. 

“They uh, just left.” you said, trying to sound calm while it felt like your heart was going to burst out of your chest at any moment. You hated confrontation with a passion.

“Why? You know what, nevermind. I’ll leave too” he said, starting to walk towards the front door behind you.

“Wait! Tae!” you said hurriedly.

Tae. You let the name slip. He probably didn’t like you calling him that. Not anymore at least. But little did you know that it made his heart skip a beat too. He missed your voice just as much as you missed his.

“What?” he asked dryly. He was afraid of showing any emotion because he was scared of forgiving you in a heartbeat.

“C-can we talk?” you ask, not daring to look into his eyes.

“About?” he asks bac.

“A-about us? I-I just want to know what really happened between us” you asked. You were trying so hard not to let the tears form but the stinging in your eyes told you that you didn’t have much longer till you broke.

“I think I already told you how I felt.” he said coldly.

“Taehyung what the hell did I do to you?” you say, wanting to finally get it all out. 

He groaned in response. 

“Fine, you want to talk? Let’s talk Y/N” he said quite loudly. You flinched in response. “Why are you pretending to be so innocent? I know what you fucking did” he spat out.

“What are you talking about?” you asked, begging him to spill.

“Are you really going to pretend like you don’t know what you did Y/N?” he said, getting louder with almost every word. You could feel the tears start to form in your eyes, blurring your vision.

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about.” you say back.

“The reporter? The article he wrote? The payment? Any of the fucking ring a bell?” he says.

“what? what reporter? what article?” you ask, genuinely confused.

“YOU TALKED TO A REPORTER. YOU TOLD HIM ABOUT ALL THE SECRETS I SHARED WITH YOU. AND YOU EVEN TOOK MONEY AS SOME PAYMENT. DID YOU HONESTLY THINK I WOULDNT FIND OUT?” he was yelling now. If you weren’t scared before, you were now. You had never seen him so angry. He took a glass from the kitchen counter and threw it on the ground. The glass shattered immediately, almost as quickly as your heart.

“Taehyung I never talked to any reporter, let alone take any money.” you say through the tears.

“Oh just shut it. I know the truth, so stop denying it. How…how could you take advantage of our friendship like that? Take advantage of the rest of the members like that?” he asks with a sadness clearly evident in his eyes.

You were full out crying now, with your heart breaking more and more with every word he said. 

“Taehyung..I-I d-didn’t.” you said, starting to sob.

“SHUT IT. You..you’re disgusting” he says, heaving.

“You…You really believe that? You think..you think that lowly of me?” you ask slowly, still looking at the ground. “You really think I did something that terrible?”

“I wouldn’t put it beyond you.” he said coldly.

“And nothing I say would make you believe me?” you ask finally.

“What excuse could you possibly give. I would never believe you. You’re no better than the rest of them. Just wait until I tell the rest of guys. I never want to see you again” he spat out.

“I-I guess that’s it then.” you said

Taehyung took one final glance at you. He didn’t know why his heart sank seeing you cry the way you did. The way you looked completely broken. “she deserves it, though” he tells himself as he walks out the door.


A/N: omg finally the confrontation. I think I might go back to texts for the next part if it fits with the plot but I’m not sure yet. Want a part 8? Let me know or I won’t write one ha!  

Thanks for all the support so far! It’s been fun writing this series. 

Previous Parts: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Wrong

Originally posted by lumos025

Summary: Jungkook, Jimin and Taehyung bullied you in high school and by some sick joke the universe was playing on you, 2 years later Jungkook was attending the same University as you. Even sicker joke was being stuck with him doing a project on ‘Sex in Cinema’ for a whole semester. Go figure.

Words: 8083

Warnings: Smut, a lot of dirty talk holy shit (I can’t help it), oral, masturbation, overstimulation.

2 years earlier:

You walked down the road, almost around midnight, trying to get home as fast as possible the chilly rainy weather. Not to mention the truck that was trailing behind you and the screams and shouts of “wait up thunder thighs!” and “stop running away like a little bitch!” coming from the 3 boys who occupied it. Wrapping your arms around yourself to feel just an ounce of warmth, you willed yourself to ignore these bastards and walk faster. ‘I’m almost home, I’m almost home’ repeating it like a mantra in your head. Really, it was a stupid idea to think that you could enjoy a last high school party with your friends who were the complete opposite of you. After all, when the three most popular boys of the school were determined to make your life a living hell, why would anyone else want to treat you different in this extremely cliché scenario. It was hard to pinpoint what exactly was it about you that made them hate you so much.

From the time that you can remember, and you remembered a lot, Taehyung, Jimin and Jungkook had always despised you. It’s like they couldn’t stand your existence. When you would be at the library helping out by staying late, they would wait after school, yes they would go out of their way to stay at school longer, to make sure that your walk home was as stressful as possible. Making fun of pretty much anything and everything you did was a normal occurrence. You had just learned to live with it, but not today.

You suddenly started to slow your pace. They are cowards, you thought. What can they possibly do? Always taunting, always calling names, always making you feel shit about anything you took interest in. But they were all talk right? You thought, huffing out. People like them walk in groups because they can’t actually do anything alone. You don’t know what came over you, but you suddenly stopped and turned around slowly. The truck that the boys were trailing behind you also slowed and stopped a few meters away.

The one driving was Jimin, while Taehyung sat beside him and Jungkook stood, head poking out of the truck’s opening in the ceiling. You stood defiantly, shaking from the growing rain, your hair soaked and hands tightly by your side. Silently daring them to charge the truck towards you. ‘They won’t do it, they’re cowards’ you thought, your confidence growing slowly. You couldn’t tell where this adrenaline rush had come from to give you such courage to finally stand your ground, just a few weeks away from graduation. You could see Taehyung’s cunning, and terrifyingly psychotic grin widening as he relentlessly whispered in Jimin’s ear, whose grip on the wheel was tightening as he looked you right in the eyes. Jungkook was laughing. He apparently found the situation so amusing, that you decided now to grow a spine and challenge them. Suddenly, the sound of the engine revving was as loud as the rain.

It all went pretty much downhill from there. The last thing you remembered was your too loud heartbeat, the bright flash from the truck and Jungkook’s face suddenly forming a horrified expression as if he wasn’t just laughing at you.

Present day:

You weren’t looking for him specifically among the crowd flooding into the lecture hall. But something did happen inside you when you spotted him. A kind of lightness, or a lifting of some heavy part of yourself. Everything was settling into a nice, normal routine. You were going about your daily lives in an ordinary manner, and you were doing it completely separately.

He sat in the fourth row, and you sat at the back. Only now there was no rising sense of dread. You didn’t keep your hand to yourself when the lecturer asked a question. You answered, without the background sound of someone snickering. And even when it felt as though he was looking at you, when you snuck a glance at him you only ever saw the back of his head.

He bent low over his notes, and his head occasionally lifted a little as he really listened to whatever the lecturer was saying. Once or twice you actually caught him nodding, or doing a little staggered-looking half laugh over some ridiculous concept. As if he loved it all now.

He loved it so much he was sometimes at the lectures early. You would come in with Y/B/F, still giggling over something ridiculous, and get the faint prickle that told you he was already there. Only now when it happened it didn’t make you want to cover herself up, or run and hide. There was nothing to hide from. Everything was going to be super cool and totally fine from here on in. Or it would have been, if it were not for the group project. The one that you were so excited for that you didn’t process it when your lecturer started reading out the names. You would be working with Y/B/F—that was a given. They were going to watch ridiculously filthy movies together and laugh about bobbing butts and ogle Ewan McGregor’s penis.

And then you heard his name.

Followed by yours.

Distantly, like in a dream of being in class.

“Miss Y/L/N, do you have a problem with that assignment?”

Everyone was looking at you now. No—not just looking. Examining, as though You had become a new and baffling species. The girl who was not excited about being carried by Jungkook. The creature who seemed horrified at the prospect of working with him. It made it difficult to do anything at all, even with Y/B/F urging you to say yes, yes I do have a fucking problem. Though You still didn’t expect the shake of you head to happen. Just one little accidental shake of you head and that was it. Your lecturer moved on to his next victim, leaving you in something You once had a nightmare about in ninth grade. Working with Jungkook. On a semester-long project.

About sex in cinema.

“Don’t worry, we can fix this. Just go to his office and talk to him privately about it. He would have to be Satan himself to not understand,” You heard Y/B/F whisper. But the words seemed even further away than you name had when your lecturer read it out.

“Right. Right. Yeah. You’re right.”

“I can come with you if you want.”

“No, that’s okay. That’s fine.”

“Are you sure? You look like you’ve been punched. In the face. With a small nuclear blast.”

“I’m sure,” You said, but soon came to regret that firmness in your voice. The steady nod that told Y/B/F it was okay for you to go in a different direction once you were outside. It only meant that You were on your own when you got to the tiny hallway outside your lecturer’s door.

And saw that Jungkook was already waiting. Of course he was—he probably had the same concerns as you. No matter how sorry he was or what he thought of being in the red and being wrong, he would never want to work in close quarters with you for the entire semester. In fact, him being sorry likely made the situation seem worse to him. Most likely he had calculated all the awkward conversations you guys would have to have and how far apart he would have to stand to keep you comfortable, and found it as unbearable as you did.

Even though his expression seemed to say something else.

Oh god. His expression was saying something else.

Then he held up his hands, as though to calm you.

And you knew.

“All right, Y/N, I know that you’re probably thinking it’s way better if you do this project with that gal pal of yours, but wait, okay? I got reasons why this is gonna be fine.”

“Is that seriously why you’re here? To stop me asking to switch us?”

“Well…no. Not stop you exactly. Stop is a really strong word.”

“While I’m glad you’ve learned that—” You said, your voice briefly catching when you saw his wince. He winced, your mind hissed, before you forced yourself to finish. “I still think it covers what’s happening here.”

“I just wanted to talk to you about it for a second. Just, like, hear me out.”

“I want to. I really do. But come on. You know I wasn’t born yesterday. This has all the hallmarks of some kind of trap or prank or joke at my expense.”

“How could it possibly be a trap or prank? He put people together based on…I don’t even know what he put people together based on. But it couldn’t have had anything to do with me.”

You searched his face, looking for the lie. Waiting for him to show some hint of bullshit, beneath those too-kind eyes and his spread hands and the obvious logic of what he was saying.

Only there was nothing, nothing, nothing.

And it made no difference at all.

“Okay, I buy that. I do. Yet the fact still remains: I cannot do a project with you. Ever. You have to know that doing anything like that is completely impossible for me. Right?”

“I was just thinking that maybe…maybe you could give it a chance. You know, now that we’re on speaking terms and everything is almost cool between us.”

“You think everything is cool between us?”

“Well, maybe not cool exactly. More like…okay.”

“Still need to dial it back a notch, chief.”

“Reasonable? Not bad? Kind of semi decent?”

“That last one is getting close.”

He sighed, shoulders sagging.

Relenting, you thought. He’s actually relenting.

“Fine, we are a fucking disaster.”

“Now you’re getting the idea,” You said.

“But I figure we can work on it.”

“By doing a project on sex in the cinema together?”

“Well,” he said. “When you put it like that it sounds dumb.”

“There’s no other way to put it! That is literally what you’re suggesting.”

“Yeah, I get that. I just…want to not get that. I want it to be easier or better or just not the way this is.”

“That could have been my daily prayer in high school, Jungkook.”

He didn’t react the way You expected to, with more weird arguing.

He just closed his eyes.

He closed them like someone had just told him his family had been in a fatal accident.

“I wish I could go back and start over again. More than wish—I would give everything I have to start over again. The wrestling, this scholarship, every party I ever went to and every fun thing I ever did. And you can choose to not believe me about that, but—”

“I believe you.”

“You do?”

“I’m as surprised as you are, but yeah.”

“Then why does this have to be such a big deal?”

You thought of Y/B/F saying attempted murder.

“Y/N that is fucking attempted murder. Babe, you don’t have to feel bad about anything you put him through now. His friends and him included, ran you over with a fucking truck. How much physio and other therapy sessions did you have to go through because of them, huh?”

The terror that used to flood you when he walked down the hall.

That ever-present sensation of a grille barrelling into your body.

“Because understanding that someone is truly sorry and wanting to spend huge amounts of time with them are two different things. I might see that you mean this, and know rationally that I can almost sort of trust you. Maybe I even want it to be that easy, too. But your face is the one I had nightmares about for two years. Your smile doesn’t seem happy to me. I associate it with cruelty.”

You shook your head. Glanced away from him so you didn’t have to see the defeated look on his face.

“It’s hard for me to look at you, Jungkook, no matter how much I appreciate what you’ve done here.”

“That was a really well-thought-out and logically sound speech.”

“I know it was. I’m pretty proud.”

“And I have no argument against it.”

“You don’t need one. What you’ve done here…” You gritted your teeth hard and looked at the ceiling. But this time it didn’t stop the tears. They were already welling up by the time You explained the rest to him.

“It means a lot. And a million men would never have done the same, I can promise you. I don’t have any messages from Jimin on my phone. Taehyung isn’t going to call anytime soon. It’s just you, a rare fantasy in the middle of all this dismal reality.”

He turned around when you were done. All the way around—and then his arms went up to cover his head and you understood. What you said had affected him, strongly. Maybe more than his words had affected you. It took him twice as long to get it together, and even after he had he couldn’t quite look at you. He just kept staring at the wall and clenching his jaw.

And saying things. Oh yeah, he said things, in a strained, shaky voice.

“I meant what I said, you know. That you are the very best.”

“I know. That’s why I’m going to ask you not to say it again.”

“I can’t stop. I have the opposite of whatever idiocy infected me in high school.”

“What, like insane-need-to-compliment fever?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” he said.

“Well it has taken a raging hold of you, let me tell you.”

“I know it seriously cannot be stopped.”

“I think you have a terminal case.”

“Not a bad way to go, if you ask me,” he said, so soft and sincere it took all your strength to stop yourself smiling in response. You could feel your lips trembling. Your cheeks ached with the effort of pinning them down, yet still You knew you were failing. You could see it in his satisfied expression.

And hear it in his words.

“That’s better. Seeing you look happy.”

“I am happy,” You said, then added without thinking: “Are you?”

Of course you didn’t mean anything by it. It was just a polite habit, based on interactions with people other than Jungkook. People who had actual problems, who lived troubled lives, who might answer with a god no. Jungkook would never need to answer with a god no. His life was full of endless possibilities and unfettered glory. He could snap his fingers and have a thousand people follow him to the ends of the earth.

He even looked that way, in the dim light of the narrow hallway between these offices.His hair was the colour of dark chocolate. Every item of clothing suited him perfectly, from the rich grey-blue of his V-neck to the jeans he’d tucked into his timberlands. He exuded cool from every pore; he could have stepped off the cover of a magazine.Yet all you could see was his face as it slowly sagged. It was like watching someone cut the strings that had held a mask in place—a mask you hadn’t known he was wearing. You thought that smiling golden god who had tormented you was the real him, but for a second you couldn’t be sure. Just for one heart-rattling second, and then the door to the office opened and that glimpse of something else was gone—so fast You would imagine later that it had never existed. It was just a trick of the light.

Better to focus on the real and the now.

“What can I do for you two today?” Professor asked.

Then you took a breath and answered.

“Nothing,” You said.

A few weeks later:

After that day, you didn’t know how or why you suddenly decided to give working with him a try, but so far, it was going…. okay. You two met up at the library, took your notes, glancing at each other once in a while, mostly Jungkook, asking each other questions relevant to their awkward topic given the situation and that was that. He made jokes sometimes that managed to get out a few carefree laughs out of you as well. It was all… comfortable. Nothing that you had expected. That is why, you decided, it was time to move on to watching actual movies for references, in your project.

It was nearly one in the morning, on a Wednesday night when you went to get him as your friend was out and that was the only time Jungkook was free after wrestling practice. Everyone was in bed, and it gave an eerie feeling to your journey back to your dorm.

As did his silence.

He was always talking—You realized that then. Sometimes he practically kept up a running commentary on everything and anything, yet here he was as quiet as stone. And it wasn’t because he was exerting himself. He didn’t breathe hard once the whole time. He could have been carrying a backpack full of air. But the idea of mental trouble lingered. When you tilted your head a little, you could practically hear his mind going over and over things, in a way that just wasn’t like him. He was easy-going. Happy-go-lucky. He never worried about things the way you did.

Until now.

“Jungkook, are you okay?”

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know. You just seem a little…”

Like an ominous statue of yourself.

“I was just thinking what movie we should watch.”

“Oh. Oh. You mean…right now?” You asked.

“Well, that’s what you came to get me for.”

“That’s true, I did come and get you for that.”

“Unless you don’t want me in your room so late.”

“No, no why would I…no, that’s cool.”

“You’re in the Jubilee Building, right?”

You had the strongest urge to ask him how he knew. But that seemed just as weird as objecting to him being in your room.

“Yeah. You just go past the science block and then—”

“Right, right, right I got it, I got it. The statue of Heo Nanseolheon is outside it, yeah?”

“That’s the one. Then it’s the third floor. Don’t worry though, there’s an elevator.”

“Ah, it wouldn’t have been a big deal.”

“Do you wanna let me unlock the door?” you asked standing behind him when you both reached your dorm.

“Oh shit, yeah. Yeah, go ahead,” he said moving his bulky body out of the way as you slid past him to unlock the door. Everything had returned to the way it should be now between you and Jungkook.

Except for the sexy movie you were now going to watch.

Alone. Together. On your bed. In the middle of the night.

You let him pick the movie, thinking that would make things easier somehow. Nothing could be misconstrued, at least, that way. He wouldn’t think you meant anything by your choice, whatever it might be. But you forgot that he might mean something with his choice. You watched the heroine trying to clumsily pick up the hero at the start of White Palace, and cringed so hard it felt more like a cramp in your gut. Your cheeks grew hot, in a way that made you grateful for the dim light of your feeble bedside lamp.

Otherwise he would see you face go red and know you understood his point—despite the fact that his point was fucking nonsense.

“This is even less realistic than Dirty Dancing.”

“Really? You think so? Like, in what way?” You asked.

“It just seems like she keeps pushing and pushing. No woman would push a guy that good-looking if he didn’t seem into it. I can’t think of anything more embarrassing.”

You didn’t look at him, but knew he shrugged.

His arm rubbed against yours as he did it.

“Maybe she doesn’t care.”

“I guess not.”

“Maybe she knows he’s actually into it.”

“That could be one explanation.” Jungkook says, sighing.

“Plus she obviously gets exactly what she was looking for.” He adds.

Onscreen, Susan Sarandon was going down on James Spader.

Which to you didn’t seem to back up his point at all.

“Oh yeah, I’m sure she’s having a great time getting absolutely nothing out of this.”

“That’s what this looks like to you? Like she’s getting nothing out of this?”

“Well, in movies they make it look like she is. But I doubt she really would be.”

“You doubt that giving a guy a blow job could be enjoyable for a woman.”

You glanced at him then, just to see if his expression was as incredulous as his voice.

Then had to look back at the screen quickly. If anything, his expression was worse. He had one eyebrow raised, and there was almost no humour in his eyes. This was serious somehow. Much too serious.

“I don’t know. I mean it’s not really something you do for your own enjoyment. You do it for his.”

“So to you there’s nothing pleasurable about it. Nothing sexy about having a guy at your mercy. Begging you, moaning for you, trying not to push too deep when it gets too good.”

Your breath hitched.

“You do those things?”

The words came out too fast. Too disbelieving, too.

But You just couldn’t stop them. They ripped out of you before you had time to talk it over with you mind, all ragged around the edges and maybe a little breathless. Just enough that he likely heard it, and wondered why. You couldn’t tell him, however. You didn’t know yourself.You only knew that when he started talking again You had the urge to put your fingers in your ears.

“Of course I do those things. Having your cock sucked is fucking amazing,” he said, which was absolutely fine.

But then he kept going.

He kept going.

“The heat and the slickness and her looking up at you as she works it with her hands and lips and tongue. Especially the tongue. The tongue is the best part. Watching it curl right around the—”

“Well, okay, it sounds cool when you put it that way.”

God your voice sounded loud. And too fast again, too. All your words practically jumbled together.

“I don’t know what other way it could possibly be.”

“How about hold still while I fuck your face? Some guy coming right in your eye? Losing a chunk of hair because he pulled too hard?”

“You’re not serious. Tell me honestly. None of that happened.”

Now his voice was bright with amusement. But it didn’t make you feel any better.

“All of that happened. To me. More than once.”

“Yeah but after…”

“After what?”

“After he came then he…”

He made a circle with his hand bobbing his head, as though you should know that one thing logically followed on from the other. It was all completely easy and obvious.

Instead of the hardest quiz you had ever had to get through. “Then he what? Gave me cab fare?”

“No. No. After that then this happens.”

You glanced at the thing he was pointing at.

Then had to look away again, quick. At your hands, at the bedspread.

At him, as he oh-so-slowly realized what your sudden awkwardness meant.

“This has never happened to you. Holy shit. You’ve never had a guy go down on you.”

“I have had a guy go down on me. I totally have.”

“Are you sure about that? You don’t look sure.”

“Well, maybe not like this.”

“There’s no other way to do it. This is actually the most basic, ordinary way to go about eating pussy.”

At those words, you could feel the fire burning on your cheeks and your breathing getting laboured. Jungkook really had no filter.

“Yeah, but this seems really exciting and sexy and hot.”

“Going down on a girl is really exciting and sexy and hot. Like I said about giving a guy head? Exactly the same principle. You get to see you writhe and shake and push herself against your mouth. Just like that, just like Sarandon is doing. Look at her. Look at her.”

“I am. I am looking,” You said, but You weren’t, not really.

You were thinking of the shiver that had gone through you when he said look, soft as butter and so oddly tender. And the way that he was looking himself, eyes almost far away.

Like he was seeing Sarandon, but putting someone else in her place.

“Think about how it must feel.”

“Yeah I can…I get that…”

“Think about his tongue slowly easing over her soft folds.”

“Is that…how…is that what you…” You said, breathlessly “Uh-huh.”

“And it works?”

You voice was a whisper now. But that was okay. His was, too. It was so low he had to lean close to ask you questions. He had to meet your gaze, and You had to meet his.

“What works?”

“It makes you…you know. Cum.”

“Oh yeah. But you gotta take your time.”

“I see. I guess that makes sense.” You were just babbling now, trying to keep up with him.

“Let it build, nice and slow. Start by just stroking her with your fingertips. Work her, you know, until her lips part. And then when she’s all open to you, you just trace the shape of her with your tongue. Lick and lick in these ever decreasing circles until you’re right…fucking…there.”

“Where? Where…where are you?”

You shouldn’t have asked. You knew you shouldn’t as soon as it was out. Your faces were too close together now, and his body seemed to be looming over yours. That was his shoulder, almost nudging your chin. And his thigh, pressing deep and hard into yours. His answer was never going to make any of this better.

Then it came, hotter than molten lava and twice as destructive.

“Her clit. Her slick, swollen clit.”

“I see. That makes sense,” You said, even though that wasn’t what you wanted to go with.

No, what you wanted to go with was more like oh my fucking God this can’t be reality.

“Then you just…stroke it.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Until she’s mindless.”

“Yeah. Yeah.”

“Doesn’t even know what she’s saying anymore, or doing. She might tell you to bite, to fuck her with your tongue and fingers, harder or faster or some word that doesn’t even make sense. Hips coming up to meet you, greedy for it, horny for it, so horny she barely notices that her hand is in your hair and she’s squeezing tight enough for it to sting, so close to coming that her whole body is shuddering and shivering and flushing that deep, good pink. Soon as you see it you just know she’s burning. That her clit is aching and throbbing and her pussy is all open and slippery, and one more second of this will make her come. She’s already coming, before you even know where you’re at. Hard, hard, hard, like she never has before.”

You were holding your breath by the time he was done. You practically had to—his face was so close now you could have blinked and brushed his cheek with your eyelashes. Every word he said seemed to stroke against your face, cool at first but then more heated. As though he was starting to boil alive inside, too. Certainly he looked that way. You have never seem him flushed like this, not even when he pushed himself during a match.

Not even when he was embarrassed.

Though you supposed that wasn’t a common occurrence. He didn’t seem to be embarrassed now, and he’d just said all those words. He said clit and pussy and slippery, as if that was just a normal way to talk to your friend. And he did it all without flinching, too. Without glancing away or putting some distance between you. In fact, those eyes of his—now heavy lidded and so soft focus—seemed intent on you more than they ever had been before. They skittered all over you face, searching for something you had no idea how to give.

You didn’t even know what the something was.

You only knew that it made you forget yourself, just as he had described.

It made you search his face back, marvelling over every brutish line and gentle curve. Those lips of his, as plump as a girl’s yet so masculine at the same time. Every inch of them gleaming, as if he’d slicked them with gloss in anticipation of a kiss. Though even in that moment you didn’t really believe you wanted that. Until he whispered, low and heavy against your own lips.

“You can, you know.”

“Can what?”

“Touch yourself.”

It jolted you, when he said it.

But not as much as realizing why he said it.

You followed his gaze down, and took in the unmistakable sight of your hand in your lap. Really, really high up in your lap. Almost between your legs, in fact—though that was fine, it was cool, it was okay. You stuttered ‘no, no I didn’t really want to do that’, but it didn’t matter.

Because his hand was actually between his legs.

“I do,” he said.

As the whole world as You knew it dissolved right in front of your eyes.

“You do?”

“Fuck, yes. I’m dying to.”

“Because of the film. Because of the movie.”

“Sure. We can say that, if you want.”

You closed your eyes. Swallowed thickly.

Wished hard that he hadn’t added that last part.

“If we could that would be awesome.”

“No problem. I mean it was probably inevitable that this would happen to us.”

“Probably, yeah. Almost definitely, in fact.”

“Just a natural response to a sexy movie.”

“Seems that way to me.”

“So you just slip your hand under your waistband, and I’ll slip my hand under mine,” he said, which was fine all on its own. The problem was that he then went ahead and did it. You tried not to look, but saw anyway. You saw the way he fumbled in his haste, as though all his talk was only calm on the surface. Underneath, something was paddling frantically. It was making his cheeks pink and his body all trembly.

And his dick hard. God, his cock was hard.

You could see that without even trying at all. The curving shape beneath his sweatpants was enormous and unmistakable, and even if it hadn’t been, his hand made it pretty clear. As You watched, he eased it over that solid length, before finally clasping it in a way that shoved the swollen head right up against the tented material. Now You could make out ruder details, like the thick ridge around the head, and the slit at the tip. Both pronounced, explicit, rude.

But that wasn’t what really got you.

It was the way he stopped to lick his palm, before shoving it

under his waistband.

“Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god, are you serious?”

“It’s cool. it’s fine. We don’t even have to look at each other.”

“No I guess not. I guess…I guess that I can just watch the screen.”

“We’re just two people getting off over a hot movie.”

“Exactly. Exactly.”

But that wasn’t strictly true. You weren’t getting off over the movie at all. Nothing was even happening anymore—it was just rich people looking down their noses and arguments over a Dust buster. If anything, it was vaguely depressing, rather than lust-inducing. Yet still You sat there, face burning, body tender and rigid all at the same time. Half of you stuffed so full of embarrassment and shock you sort of wanted to block everything out, the other half just shamelessly straining to hear every single tiny sound he made. Never daring to look, of course, but then…

You really didn’t need to.

He made so much noise that you could make out almost everything. Every little moan and gasp—and there were a lot of them, too. Lots of thick, guttural moans that started on an ah and ended with a kind of abrupt sigh, as though a knife had sliced through his throat before he could finish. So many soft mmms and gasps, like he honestly couldn’t get enough of whatever he was doing.

Though it was the whispers that hit you hardest. They got you right in the gut, low down and deep enough to ache. Oh yeah, he murmured, as though the hottest sex in the world was happening onscreen. As though they were fucking like animals, up and down and left and right. His tone even sounded sort of tremulous, and it got more intense as time went on. Soon he was panting, and rocking, and every now and then uttering something he was clearly imagining himself doing.

“Ah, yeah, suck my cock, just like that,” he said.

Then just to make it extra agonizing, he spat into his hand.

To make it extra slick, you thought, like someone’s mouth. Someone sucking him the way he’d described, slow and steady until he was actually shuddering, right here and now. The bed was moving, at least, and it wasn’t because he was working that cock hard. He wasn’t. He was going slow, so slow, squeezing and rolling rather than the short, fast kind of thing You’d always thought guys did. They almost never seemed to do anything else in porn…but then again they never did all this other stuff, too. You dared to turn you head a little more and saw to your astonishment that he had his hand pressed to his mouth. He was almost biting his fist, chest heaving, body shivering all over—but most important, eyes closed.

He couldn’t even see you looking. You were free to do as you pleased.Yet something held you back. You couldn’t seem to do more than peek out of the corner of you eye, and even that made you feel strange. You kept getting this clenching sensation—sort of like embarrassment or humiliation—and it got worse when his back arched. When he actually said out loud that he was almost there, that he was so close, that he was gonna come all over your duvet. I need something to do it on, he said, and even that had a shameful frisson of its own. You had a brief flash of him kneeling up and suddenly coming all over your face, or maybe pulling down that ridiculously large neck hole to expose your breasts.

Followed by an image of that thick white liquid coating you, striping you face, dripping off your tight little nipples. Him pushing his cock past your lips to finish off, groaning as he flooded your mouth.

And he would have flooded it, too. You glanced at him just in time to see him shove his sweatpants down, that big dick swelling under the pressure of his too-tight grip. Thick ribbons of come already hitting his bared belly, over and over until you were sure he must be done. He had to be, yet more kept flowing over his still-working fist. You watched it run down over his fingers in slippery trails before pooling in his lap.

Though none of it was what you kept seeing behind your eyes in the aftermath. Instead, you saw the way his face had looked as he shot his load. The open mouth, and the closed eyes, and most of all the strange, wrenching vulnerability that had covered him for a moment. No mischief, no macho bullshit—just a completely open and abandoned sort of ecstasy.

And all of it for you.

He knew you had watched him. He still knew now. You flicked your eyes back to the screen as he started to catch his breath, but the first thing he did was include you.

“Guess I kind of made a mess here,” he said, everything about his tone suggesting two conspirators, finishing off their evil deed. You even got up after he’d said it, to get him a tissue.

Though when You got back he’d pretty much taken care of most of it.

You stopped in the doorway to the bathroom at the sight: Him, casually licking his messy fingers.

It took you a good two minutes after that to go over to him, with your fistful of toilet paper. And when you did go, it was on very shaky legs. Your whole body felt shaky, in fact—though not in any way you’d experienced before. This was like being full to the brim with something burning hot, skin so close to ripping that it couldn’t keep still. Sometimes you thought you could see it shivering slightly under the strain, and every inch of it was tender, so tender. His leg brushed yours as you sat down, and it was agony. You even winced—then immediately regretted it.

He had been concentrating on clean-up. Now he looked up at you sharply.

And asked questions You were loathing to answer.

“Have you…not? I mean have you not—”

“I couldn’t. I’m sorry, I couldn’t.”

“God, you must be bursting.”

“Honestly, I’m fine.”

The problem was though; you didn’t seem fine.

You couldn’t meet his gaze. Your hands were fists on your thighs.

And of course he could see all of that.

“You look like you’re bursting.”

“Oh yeah? And what does bursting look like?”

“Your voice is shaking.”

“Is it?” You asked, voice so light it almost passed.

Almost, almost, almost.

“Your cheeks are flushed.”

“Are they?”

“And then there’s the fact that your nipples are like diamonds. Fuck, look how stiff they are. Isn’t that agonizing, having them like that? I bet your clit’s the same. Bet your pussy is so wet. So wet you’re making a mess of the nice, clean clothes.”

Your cheeks grew hotter and hotter as he whispered each word. By the time he was done they felt like they were going to melt right off you face. That tense, cringing feeling in your stomach was ten times worse, and that was before he got to the last point. The one about the clothes, and the mess, and oh god what if he was right? It felt as if he might be. You weren’t wearing any underwear, and everything was really slippery between your legs. You could feel it, every time You moved.

“Oh fuck, sorry, sorry I don’t…I hope…it’s just that—” You didn’t even know why you were apologizing

“Honey, you don’t need an explanation.”

His tone was like sinking into a warm bath—and the thumb you could feel stroking over you forearm only pulled you deeper down. He just did it so idly. So like he wasn’t touching you at all.

Before you knew it, you were up to your ears in liquid heat.

“Are you sure? Because it kind of feels like I do.”

“I’m sure. I mean, the movie was pretty intense.”

“Right, exactly. Super intense.”

“So why deny yourself?”

“I’m not…denying…anything.”

“I could leave, if you want.”

“No, god no,” You said, too fast and too fierce.v

Though it was only afterward that you realized how it sounded: Not like someone trying to say you didn’t want to masturbate. Like someone saying that you wanted him to stay.

And he took it that way, too.

“Or, you know. I could just…do it for you,” he said.

Then you just had to do your best not to go out of your mind.

You stopped herself from jumping up. Kept your hands from flailing.

Didn’t look at him, in case looking made you do something crazy.

“Oh my god. You can’t be serious. You can’t be serious.”

“Probably wouldn’t take a lot.”

“I always take a lot.”

“Even when you’re alone?”

“Especially when I’m alone.”

“Well, maybe we should see about that.”

Again, you had the urge to get up. Maybe you even would have, if it hadn’t been for the other things he was doing. The thumb stroking your arm was now the back of his hand, running the length of your arm over and over. And that was his breath against the curve of your throat, so close and warm he could have been kissing you there. It felt like kissing.

Only without the scariness of the real thing.

All of this was without the scariness of the real thing. It was just a game, that was all—and one that you could win if you really put you mind to it. He thought he could get you so easily, but he was utterly and completely wrong. You were a rock, in the face of whatever he was going to do. You were impervious to the pleasure he seemed to think he was going to dole out, to the point where you almost laughed when he slipped his hand beneath the waistband of those too-big sweatpants.

It was weird. Slightly uncomfortable.

Not sexy in the least.

And then his fingertips just oh-so-lightly grazed the pouting lips of your swollen pussy, and things pretty much started to go downhill from there. The sensation it sent through you was just so intense, and over something so small. He hadn’t even slipped between them to your clit, or eased a finger into your slick little hole. In truth, you weren’t entirely sure he’d touched you at all.

Yet you still had to clench your jaw.

You had to tell herself that it was just the stuff that had happened before—the film and him coming and then licking his fingers like a satisfied cat. It wasn’t anything to do with this right now, with him touching you, with his skill. He wasn’t skilful at all. He was terrible. Awful.

he worst lover you had ever had.

You had no idea why your thighs were trembling. Or what made you moan when he finally, finally, finally eased his fingers into that slick slit, and then topped it off by telling you just what he found there.

“Ohhhh fuuuuck you are wet. You’re so wet. Jesus Christ, Y/N, how can you stand it? How can you sit still and quiet with those eyes closed when your pussy is like this? So slippery I can just glide all the way down and ease on in and oh man, oh man,” he said, and all You could do in response was shiver and make a number of embarrassing noises. First for his words, and then oh god then for the feel of him doing it.

He used two fingers—two of those long, thick fingers—yet somehow it didn’t hurt when he pushed into you. There was no fumbling or searching. Your body just seemed to open for him, as though they’d dated for years and he’d worked on you for hours. He knew exactly how to touch you there, and when he did you simply had to respond. Your gasp rung out in the small room.Though you vowed it would be the last one. That was it now—you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of anything else. Not even when he started working his fingers in and out, slow and steady and so unbelievably good. you kind of wanted to cry over the unfairness of it. Why was he the one who had to be so good at this? How did he know how to do it in this deliberate, teasing, tantalizing way?

Even watching him do it was exciting. You made the mistake of glancing down and all you could see was his hand rolling beneath the material, the waistband occasionally stretching to give you a glimpse of your glossy cunt, his gleaming fingers, the way you were spread around that thick intrusion…

Fuck.

You had to look at the screen just to stop yourself coming right then and there—though even those measures had an exciting quality of their own. James Spader was just doing something incredibly dull now, while you sat here watching through slitted eyelids, cheeks flushed and legs spread, as a man slowly fingered your slick, flushed pussy. Back and forth, back and forth, until you were so beside yourself you weren’t sure you even wanted to hold back your moans. You only knew that you were still trying, for reasons that seemed vague and far away now. It just doesn’t matter, your mind hissed, but you kept it up anyway. You held yourself more tightly and bit deep into your lip—deep enough that you tasted blood. And when he started to ease those fingers up, you shut your eyes tight. You thought of other things, more boring things: dry books and bird-watching. All to no avail. He made one circle around your clit.

Just one tiny, insignificant circle, and that was it. Your orgasm rolled up from that stiff little bud, in one all-consuming and all-powerful wave. It took away your control over your body—your toes curled tight and your back arched. But most important, it took away your control over your mouth. It let one little word slip out.

Though one little word was more than enough.

“Jungkook,” You said, and after that the game was pretty much up. That was gratitude in your voice and pleasure in the sigh behind it, and all wrapped in the neat little bow of his name. There was no more pretending that it wasn’t him who had made you feel this way, or suggesting that all of this was just a game.And he knew it immediately. He kept up the thrusts of his long, thick fingers, helping you prolong the feeling of your orgasm for as long as possible. And he didn’t stop there. Your face was starting to contort from the oversensitivity and it was obvious that Jungkook knew it too from the way he bit his lip and started to purposely move his fingers faster once again.

“Ahh! J-Jungkook… I can’t….” You moaned out, though this seemed to have no effect on him as he seemed determined to elicit another orgasm from you. His fingers scraping against your tightening walls as they fought to repeatedly slam back inside you. Your thighs were shaking, your eyes half lidded, leaning back on your hands as his worked between your legs. Suddenly you gripped Jungkook’s moving hand as you came dangerously close to letting go.

“That’s it, fuck, cum again for me Y/N. I need this. You need this” He almost sounded desperate and it made you want to sob because everything was so fucking hot.

With a cry of his name, you came undone again, your body almost curling in towards itself from the sensitivity.

“Holy shit, holy shit,” he said, as though you’d cried out the filthiest thing on the face of the earth. And, again, he didn’t stop there. You could hear him fumbling with the waistband of his sweatpants already—though you tried to turn it into something else in your head. He was just pulling them up, you thought. They had slid down as he serviced you, that was all.

Only it wasn’t all.

When you made the mistake of glancing his way, you saw so much more than you were ready for. It was supposed to be over now, completely over, but he’d shoved everything down to mid-thigh and his cock was in his hand again and god god god why was it so arousing? You’d had cum twice already. He’d had one orgasm already, and now he was being so fucking filthy.

Yet somehow the filthiness only made it worse.

You came searingly close to telling him yes.

And go on.

And come all over me—just like you’d imagined.

For one wild second, it even seemed like he might. He was groaning and panting and he kept saying things, incredible things like “do you see what you do to me do you get how fucking horny you make me oh fuck just hearing you moan my name”. His hand was heavy on your shoulder, and you knew he was close. He was going to yank your top down any second now.

Any second, you thought.

Though you didn’t realize how much you wanted it until the first thick burst slid over his fist.

Didn’t know how little control you had over herself until he grunted your name and shuddered violently, that slick fluid easing over his still-pumping fist. After all, if you’d had any you would have stayed right where you were, content to just watch.Instead of leaning forward to take that heavy, swollen, slippery head in your mouth, to catch the last ribbons of his salt-sweet cum all over your eager tongue.

“Fucking fuck, Jagiya” Jungkook cursed loudly, watching you take the head of his cock in your mouth. He slid his hands in your hair, gripping it from the bottom of your skull gently, rocking your face back and forth, riding out the last of his high. You looked up at him, eye still glassed over, breathing hard and laboured and slid the head of him out of your mouth.

There was no doubt that Jungkook was shocked at your boldness but he seemed pleasantly surprised. His pupils blown out, lips swollen, skin gleaming. He truly was a work of art. The magnitude of what you two had done hit you hard. So, naturally, there was only one thing left to do in panic.

Kick him out.

“Jungkook…you need to leave”

A/N: So, Idk what happened but yeah hope you all enjoy. Not sure if I’ll make this a series since I’m bad at continuing ideas. I may stick to separate scenarios. I get bored easily. However, please feel free to check out my blog and send me ideas for new fics

The Things We Give Welsh Learners: y Babi Sinsir

So I was going through our bookshelf yesterday, because we’re fast approaching the point where we need a clear-out, and I came across one of my all-time favourite creations ever, probably even beating shit like the wheel and penicillin. Years back, before leaving The Man to pursue his dreams of being a sort of professional clown-thing, my husband used to be a translator for Neath Port Talbot Council; as is often the way with Welsh councils, though, owing to a lack of money and also everywhere is really close to each other (this country is 150 miles wide at its widest point, and about 47 miles at the thin bit. Ver ver small), NPT Council’s translating department was shared by Swansea Council. Thus it was that, in the halcyon days of circa 2009, the two decided to team up and produce a new Welsh language book for learners between them, and thus it got sent through to Steffan to proof read it.

A Thing You May Not Know: Welsh is one of ten indigenous languages to Britain, arguably the oldest, and has been viciously oppressed over the last millennium and a half as part of England’s big If You Destroy Their Culture They’ll Be Glad To Be Ruled By You policy. These days, it’s nonetheless still spoken by approximately a fifth of the Welsh population; a hell of a feat, considering, but the suppression of it continues to this day (just in cleverer, sneakier ways now than whipping people’s children if they’re heard.) But it is classified as Endangered. Thanks to Welsh-language schools now being a thing (though supply is much lower than demand), transmission rates to the younger generation are pretty good; but, Welsh is peculiarly dependent on adult learners.

This means that learner books might have to appeal to both children and adults while using very simple language, which I explain in case it in some way justifies the bewildering weirdness of what I’m about to show you; because at first glance, this book is simply for children. But it’s… Well. 

Well.

I present to you, with translations in bold and commentary by me, Y Babi Sinsir.

Literally, “the Ginger Baby”, but they mean ‘ginger’ as in ‘gingerbread’. Literal ginger. Not the colour.

This is Mr Jones. This is Mrs Jones.

What’s wrong, Mrs Jones? I want a baby.

Note: there will be some confusion in this book about whether the narrator is speaking, or anyone else. It might seem cut and dried here, but there are no speech marks around “Dw i eisiau babi”, whereas later speech marks are used, and also in two pages’ time the narrator will actively pass a value judgement using first person, so… Well.

But, so far so good.

Mrs Jones is making a Babi Sinsir.

… okay, so I like this page because of the capitalisation of Babi Sinsir and the lack of definite article. She’s just making a Babi Sinsir. You know, a Babi Sinsir? Magical baby made of gingerbread that you make if you can’t conceive but can’t afford IVF? Yeah. A Babi Sinsir. That’s right.

Let it be known that this is Not A Thing in Welsh folklore or mythology. What the fuck. How does this work. Where does the magic come from? Do you need a faerie ingredient? Will the next page tell us?

This is the Babi Sinsir. I like the Babi Sinsir.

Nope.

But it is apparently shit-capable and needs a nappy. It’s good that the narrator likes it anyway.

The Babi Sinsir is bad. He’s running.

Uh oh.

“Come back, Babi Sinsir.”

Look how Worried the Joneses are. Funny how they don’t seem to be calling that enthusiastically, though. I’d have expected an exclamation mark at least. Did Mrs Jones always have a massive left arm? I can’t remember.

“Run, run, catch me. I’m the Babi Sinsir.”

Yeah, okay, so that’s the Welsh for “Run! Run! As fast as you can! You can’t catch me, I’m the gingerbread man!”, but once again, I’m going to have to draw attention to the lack of expressive punctuation here. It really feels like this naughty Babi Sinsir’s heart is just not in this.

“Come and help, Mr Horse.” “Run, run, catch me. I’m the Babi Sinsir.”

Cool, look, a floating horse has come to help.

The pen there, incidentally, was an attempt by the translators to work out who was talking. I can’t imagine why. This dialogue is on fire, everyone can tell.

“Come and help, Mrs Cow.” “Run, run, catch me. I’m the Babi Sinsir.”

Now they have been joined in their high-speed zombie shuffle by a married floating cow who is, if I’m not much mistaken, high as shit.

“Come and help, Mr Goat.”  “Run, run, catch me. I’m the Babi Sinsir.”

I’m starting to suspect the artist only knew how to draw the legs on animals in one way.

“Come and help, Mr Dog.”  “Run, run, Catch me. I’m the Babi Sinsir.”

Yes, that dog is definitely here to ‘help’. Also… the Babi Sinsir is literally within reach of Mrs Jones’ massive left arm now. Why is she not just picking him up?

“Come and help, Miss Cat.” “Run, run, Catch me. I’m the Babi Sinsir.”

You may be wondering at this point if this is just… the whole book. An ever-increasing flock of floating zombie creatures shuffling after a naughty gingerbread baby in a nappy who is committing the cardinal sin of running. I mean… where can they go from here, amirite? A sheep? A squirrel? A chicken? We can hit a hundred pages this way, easy. The concern is the artist, whom I think was stretched a bit beyond their means on this project anyway.

BUT WORRY NOT! Shit’s about to go down, guys.

Oh no! Here comes Mr Wolf. Mr Wolf runs and catches the Babi Sinsir.

THAT IS A FOX

THAT IS A GODDAMN FOX YOU HEATHEN FUCK

WHAT THE FUCK

AND WHY THE FUCK IS IT WEARING CLOTHES WHEN NONE OF THE OTHER ANIMALS WERE

WHY IS IT DRESSED IN DUNGAREES LIKE A LAZY FARMHAND ON AN AMERICAN RANCH IN THE 1800S

This doesn’t bode well for the -

Half of the Babi Sinsir is left.

WHAT THE

Quarter of the Babi Sinsir is left.

WHY DOES IT STILL LOOK SAD AND HORRIFIED WHY IS IT STILL ALIVE OH MY GOD

The Babi Sinsir has gone! There’s tasty.

What the

Wha

It

I realise this is not the main point to make here, but two pages ago it had eaten half of that nappy, and now it’s whole again and delicately discarded to one side, I just want

I mean

It’s okay, right? This happens in fairytales? Little Red Riding Hood? Someone will eviscerate the fox and out will come the Babi Sinsir…’s pieces, and they can be baked back together…?

No one cares!

Mrs Jones is making another Babi Sinsir.

The new Babi Sinsir loves Mrs Jones.

… 

…okay, so there’s a lot for us all to take in right now, and we’re all going to get through it at different speeds. But I’m just going to draw attention to the fact that Mr Jones is now merely depicted as a picture on the wall, and the new Babi Sinsir apparently only loves Mrs Jones, and…

Okay so they just lost their beloved baby gingerbread son because he got eaten alive by a fox in dungarees calling itself a wolf, right? Mrs Jones apparently couldn’t give less of a fuck if she tried, as long as she has some flour and ginger left over to make another. This one she made to love her.

Mr Jones, I presume, had a total mental breakdown and drank himself to death. At the very least, he’s left her, look. All she has left is the photo.

But does dim ots! Mae’r Babi Sinsir newydd yn caru Mrs Jones.

And that is the story of Y Babi Sinsir, aka the greatest work of literature ever written.

→ all that is gold (m)

Originally posted by chimtae


Sub!BTS collab

pairing → Taehyung x Reader

genre → roommate!au + sugar baby!au, smut, angst

warnings sub!taehyung, skype sex, masturbation, orgasm denial, possessiveness, slight breath play, oral sex, dirty talk, thigh riding, tae ends up sort of a switch? idk

☆ word count → 11.2k

☆ summary → As a college student struggling to make ends meet, Taehyung resorts to a less than ethical method to satisfy his appetite for expensive treats. The last thing he wants is for you to find out how he acquires the Gucci in his closet… however this proves to be difficult when you are his roommate.

or : Taehyung is a sugar baby and somehow thinks he can keep this a secret


☆ a/n → ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

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The extrovert's guide in dealing with introverted personalities

SUBMITTED by Steve

INxJs

-They can come off as … weird. Very subjective term because really, who’s to say what’s weird and what isn’t. But given that INxJs are arguably the rarest types and usually out of touch with the physical and concrete, it can definitely make the more down-to-earth extroverts out there feel as though they are alien in some way. But don’t be fooled, because behind those ambiguous stares there is a storm-load of activity going on in their minds. 

- Their hunches can be incredibly valid. Unlike what the stereotype will have you believe, Dom-Ni is NOT a future-predicting function. For one thing, it’s very personal and subjective to each Dom-Ni user and some of them would probably disagree with each other on their hunches. However, they do have an ability to see things that a lot of us will miss. Not through any kind of mystical gift, but rather well thought out speculation. Even if they’re off, chances are they were still very wise in their assessment of things.

- There are usually your typical law-abiding citizen. (Good advice for everyone, not just extroverts) In complete contrast to the first point, INxJs may be way harder to spot than the stereotypes say. INTJs are not scientists working on a cure for cancer or world domination (depending where their Fi is at) and INFJs are not the next coming of Jesus Christ. A lot of them probably work in everyday jobs and there’s a good chance you’ve mistaken them for their S counterparts. Get to know them personally and you’ll see the difference.

ISxJs

- They are hard to get excited. Inferior Ne can be a bitch sometimes. Throwing fun suggestions at an ISxJ may often result in “Meh…” or “I don’t know…” Of all types, they are usually the hardest to pull out of their comfort zone. If you suggest something to them and they start bombarding you with questions such as ’‘What time? Who will be there? How does it work?”  etc. don’t get irritated because that actually means you’ve tickled their interest and now they’re just trying to cover all their bases. 

- They are experts in their fields. Si-Doms tend to have very few interests in life, but what does interest them, they probably know the insides and outs of it, like no other. They love to study at length what peaks their interest and in this case, their factual knowledge about things is usually second to none. They are the definition of “vested interest”. Also note that they are geeks in disguise, so just like NP types, do not criticize old stuff they have an attachment to. They still like something from the 80’s? Then so shall it be. Telling them it’s stupid for them not to move on is actually much more hurtful than it looks.

- Their loyalty and commitment cannot be doubted. If an ISxJ say they’ll do something, they’ll do it, ‘nuff said. Hell, even if it turns out that it’s actually an inconvenience to them. They just cannot back out of commitment. Of course, stuff can always come up at the last second, in this case, you’ll receive a rain check or heart-felt apology. If an ISxJ actually does flake out, that’s … not okay, but they were probably hesitant about it from the start. 

IxTPs

They are blunt. You want an honest and direct opinion? IxTPs will give you that faster than any other type. In many cases, it can actually feel brutally honest, so more sensitive types may wanna steer clear. Of course, if their opinion is splattered with insults and an impatient tone, then you’re dealing with an unhealthy type and that’s not okay. 

- They are “dispassionate.” Sounds like a really negative trait but what it really means is they are the embodiment of “objective.” IXTPs very rarely take things too seriously with a burning passion flowing through their veins. As of such, cynicism and sarcasm is very likely. Don’t take it the wrong way though, because underneath that, they can offer the most practical advice or at least see things as they are, with no bias and emotional tones tainting their view. And while that can definitely be off-putting, and it can also be extremely useful. 

Don’t try to turn a frog into a prince. I’m sure there is a better way to say this? What I mean is that Inferior Fe, even if healthy and mature, will always find it draining to keep up social appearances. You either appreciate this trait of theirs or keep looking elsewhere. But don’t expect to turn your IXTP love interest into a social butterfly overnight. 

IxFPs

- They march to the beat of their own drum. If Dom-Ni can be hard to decode, prepare yourself for Dom-Fi. Like a fire, it is burning, passionate and unpredictable. Sometimes, even IxFPs themselves can’t pin-point the reason they feel so passionate about a given subject. Don’t try to constantly size up a Fi-Dom, you’ll get exhausted. Even their closest friends and family often have a hard time reading what’s going on in their mind. Respect their privacy and their inner world and don’t force them to lay out how they feel on the table. 

- Support their causes. If an IxFP feels strongly about something, then this is unwavering to them. They will fight for what they believe in to the bone. You either support it or stay clear but telling them they’re wrong or it’s a waste of time may turn you into an “enemy” in their eyes. 

- Do NOT attempt to control them. Offering sound advice? Sure. But any shade of “You should do this…” not only falls on deaf ears but may actually cause them to do the exact opposite out of spite. Dom-Fi is the ultimate free spirit who wants to experience life on its own terms and Inferior Te does NOT want to be told what to do. This can be pretty hard at times though. You see an IXFP loved one acting recklessly (ISFP) or acting on a crazy idea (INFP) it’s only normal for you to want to steer them on a straight path, but in actuality it will be counter-productive. Just stay clear and let them learn from their mistakes, IF it’s actually a mistake to begin with. You’d be surprised how many times acting on one’s own accord can pay off in the long run. There’s many world-renowned musicians and artists who could probably vouch for that. 

anonymous asked:

prompt: isak comforting and taking care of even during one of his depressive episodes in their new apartment xxx

Anonymous said: Skam prompt: Isak looking after Even during an episode, maybe?


It never feels like Isak’s looking after Even when he’s like this.

Not really, anyway. It feels more like…helping him out. 

Even can’t bring himself to make breakfast? Okay, Isak can cook some eggs for the two of them, even if he can’t make them as well as Even does. Even feels overwhelmed at the idea that it’s his turn to wash the dishes? Well, there’s probably some dishes still left over from Isak’s turn, anyway. Even can’t handle going to school? Isak can let the school know and pop over to his teachers to collect any work Even’s missed. He genuinely, really, absolutely, doesn’t mind. He knows that as soon as Even feels better, he’ll pick things back up. Until then, Isak is there to help him out. Which is okay. Things are okay. Things will be okay. 

One day, Isak finds himself walking home from school and, despite himself, he can’t help walk that bit quicker knowing Even is home, alone, feeling low and a little hopeless.

He steps inside and heat hits him like a punch to the face. Because Jesus, their flat feels like a fucking sauna. They’re entering the summer months anyway, and they have so many large windows that it kind of turns their place into a greenhouse when the sun’s out. But it’s more than that. Isak’s fingers trail over the radiator and find it almost boiling to the touch. He frowns, switches the heating off, and walks into his and Even’s bedroom.
Even is curled up in bed, duvet splayed on the floor, t-shirt and hair damp with sweat. Isak swallows hard, because it just isn’t a nice sight. Even just looks so small like this. 

At some point, Isak’s legs remember how to work. He opens their window as wide as it will go before climbing in bed, next to Even, pressing a kiss on his cheek to wake him up.

“Are you trying to cook yourself alive, or?” Isak murmurs, laughing a little nervously, trying not to make his worry abundantly clear. 

It takes Even a little while to respond, but eventually, he opens his eyes. Looks at Isak before his eyes dart away quickly as he rolls onto his back to stare at the ceiling. 

“I tried turning it down, but…” His voice is small, raspy, and his eyes are teary and tired and God, Isak just wants to make it all go away for him. “I couldn’t figure it out, so.”

“I’ve fixed it,” Isak murmurs gently, threading a hand through Even’s hair. It’s a bit gross; greasy and sweaty, and if Isak’s honest, Even hasn’t showered in days and the whole room stinks because of it. It’s alright, though. Isak doesn’t mind that much.

“I just.” Even swallows hard, tired eyes fluttering shut, looking on the verge of tears. And Even’s cried over less when he’s been like this; out of frustration and exhaustion and, well, depression. Isak learnt a long time ago that comforting words can’t always do a huge amount when Even’s like this. That the best thing he can do sometimes is simply sit there and be with him.

“Hey,” Isak murmurs, turning Even’s face to look at him, making their eyes meet. Even’s eyes are a little dulled, a little less light, a little less starry. They’re heavy, exhaustion radiating from them, but they’re still Even’s eyes. Wonderful and perfect and Isak loves them just the same. “Minute by minute, yeah?”

Even swallows again. “Yeah,” he says quietly, and Isak smiles a little, brushing his thumb over Even’s cheek, then his mouth. He closes the distance between them and kisses him, soft and undemanding and reassuring. Just letting him know he’s there. Even’s mouth tastes a little bitter, teeth unbrushed and lips dry and chapped, but Isak wouldn’t want any other lips but these. Even’s. Even, who is the brightest and kindest and most beautiful person Isak knows, even when he’s low like this. 

“How about a shower?” Isak suggests tentatively. 

After half a minute of silence, Even nods, pulling himself out of bed with heavy limbs and tired eyes. It’s progress, though. Good progress. 

Isak fixes the shower so it’s the colder side of warm - they’re both boiling from the heat of the flat - and when Even gets undressed, Isak picks his clothes up. Says, “I’ll join you in a minute, I just need to put the washing on.”

Isak collects the rest of the dirty clothes from their bedroom which - okay, their bedroom is a tip, but Isak’s never been particularly tidy and maybe it does go to shit a tiny bit when Even isn’t there to remind him to pick his clothes up. But whatever.

He strips the bed linen, too, down to the pillow cases, and crams everything into the washing machine before returning to the bathroom. Even is under the shower, rubbing the shower gel over his body kind of numbly and methodically. Isak undresses himself, steps in the shower with Even, and smiles up at him. Kisses him once, softly and gently. Another day, another mood, kisses in the shower can be messy and hungry and desperate. But not in times like this. Times like this, the kiss is nothing but a reassuring hello, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. Noses brushing against one another, foreheads together, deep breaths and closed eyes. Standing under the jets of water and melting into one being. And Isak just can’t help thinking that if something as simple as love could make Even happy, then he’d be the happiest boy in the world. 

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