between the knees

[M] Learning Curve.

Pairing: Jungkook / Reader

Summary: Submission doesn’t suit everyone and, as far as Jungkook is concerned, you wear it better than he does. 

Count: 8.4K 

Warning(s): Smut, Sub!kook but also Dom!kook (lmfao pls forgive me), dirty talk, spanking, and a pinch orgasm denial because who wouldn’t want to watch Jungkook squirm. 

A/N: Just leave me alone to die.

Originally posted by sirtae

If you had to guess Jungkook’s least favorite thing to do, you would say that renouncing his power was likely it. In bed, anyway.

He always made sure to remind you that he was in charge of your pleasure, no matter what the situation. He administered it as generously or as sparingly as he saw fit. It hadn’t always been so, but Jungkook settled into his role as the dominant one quite naturally. 

Evidently though, your leniency had taken its toll on his once obedient nature. You allowed him to grow confident in his ability to disarm you fully with just one brush of his hands over the right parts of your body, or dirty, whispered words against your neck, or the heat of his body pressing against yours. You had become forbearing, allowing him to push the limits of your control until he had effectively slipped it from your grasp entirely.

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Stay for the night

So… I had this idea earlier today and I’ve been working on it since 3PM. I hope you guys enjoy it and please let me know what you think! Lots of love, B xx

The house is empty and silent, much different than when you first arrived and the last bottles of beer and wine have been tossed in the bin just outside of Harry’s kitchen. You’ve managed to tidy things up a bit, make the house less messy than when his drunk guests left almost half an hour ago and now, after washing your hands from the sticky remnants of beer that got all over them while you cleaned up, you can finally try and find him and bid your goodbyes.

When you do find him, he’s sitting on his couch, legs spread open and a hand resting on his tummy, his head tipped back and resting against the back of the couch, a frown on his forehead and his lips pressed in a tight line - if you didn’t know better, you’d say he’s fighting nausea but you know the truth. You know he’s just about to pass out and sleep for the rest of the night on his couch and the only thing he’s waiting for is for you to leave - he’s too much of a gentleman to let you just leave without saying goodbye.

Smiling, you stand between his legs, one knee resting on the small bit of the couch that’s available and you lean forward, hand reaching for the curls that fall across his forehead, your fingers pushing it back in a slow rub against his scalp and he hums in appreciation of the gesture.

“Everyone’s gone.” You inform him, thumb smoothing across the frown lines on his forehead and he relaxes under your touch, his face turning softer, his lips opening around a sigh of contentment. “I’ve cleaned up so you don’t have to do it tomorrow.”

“Didn’t have to.” He says and you can see his sleepy green eyes open to glare at you, but the effect of his intended angry stare is just a grumpy and pouty, too sleepy to look menacing stare. “‘M a grown man, can do my own cleaning.”

“Know you are…” You giggle, cupping his face in one of your hands and rubbing your thumb across his pouty lips. “Just wanted to help.”

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As it’s Friday - just take that gif out of context and image John is on his knees between Sherlock and that wall, Sherlock staring down on him, wide-eyed, overwhelmed, only slightly canting his hips, his abdominal muscles quivering as he pushes just a little bit deeper into hot, wet heat, desperately trying to restrain himself and not to choke John. And the noises they’d both make…

Sorry, I got carried away. I only find this shot rather suggestive.

gif by @halloawhatisthis

Prompt 5

If I didn’t have twelve hundred ideas for longer fics already this would be one. So instead it shall have to be a snippet of what it could be, with invisible beginnings and ends you’ll have to imagine for yourselves.


Harry frowned. He was certain he had left it hanging over the end of his bed. He knelt down and looked under the bed just in case but there was nothing, not even dust bunnies thanks to the diligent house elves.

“Neville, have you seen my hoodie? The red one I was wearing yesterday?” Harry asked.

“He’s down in the common room,” Neville said, not bothering to look up from his little windowsill garden.

Harry’s brow furrowed in confusion, “What?”

“Malfoy’s down in the common room,” Neville said absently. He glanced up at Harry’s prolonged silence and shrugged, “Who else would take it?”

“Thanks,” Harry said hurriedly, heading out of the room and down the hallway to the common room.

Sure enough, there was a red-clad figure laying on one of the couches by the fire. He was slumped down so his neck was at an awkward angle he’d come to regret later, hood pulled up and hiding most of his ridiculous blond hair, sleeves pulled down over his fingers. He had a book balanced on his chest about three inches from his face. Harry rather suspected that Draco was in dire need of a pair of reading glasses but would rather die than admit it.

Harry walked over, stopping in front of the couch to demand, “Give it back.”

“No,” Draco said flatly turning a page and squinting at the tiny type.

Harry sighed and scrubbed his hand through his hair, “Come on, all the rest are being washed.”

“I know,” Draco said smugly.

“You’re the worst, why are you like this?” Harry groaned.

Draco twitched an eyebrow up, “Have you met my father?”

Harry frowned and grabbed the bottom of the hoodie Draco was wearing.

“What are you doing!” Draco sputtered, his book falling on his chest as he grabbed Harry’s wrists, pushing back down.

“Taking. my. hoodie. back,” Harry said through gritted teeth.

He pushed up harder and Draco pulled down. The book slid to the floor with a thump. Harry climbed onto the couch, a knee between Draco’s legs. The hoodie along with Draco’s shirt rode up his chest as they struggled. Draco raised his free foot and braced it on Harry’s shoulder to shove him back and Harry furiously leaned against it. Until Draco’s foot slipped and Harry tumbled onto Draco in a heap that left them both breathless.

“Fuck,” Draco groaned, “Are you made of lead, Potter?”

Harry tried not to laugh, he really did, but Draco’s pouty frown pushed him over the edge and he started laughing so hard he had to hold onto the couch to keep from falling off.

Draco rather unsuccessfully fought down a smile, “Arsehole.”

Sitting at a small table nearby Ron groaned, “Merlin, they’re doing it again.”

Hermione smiled fondly, her chin propped on her hand, “I think it’s cute.”

“This is torture. I’m going to the library,” Ron said, shoving his parchment in his bag, “They don’t even realize, how do they not realize?”

“I’ll come with you,” Hermione smiled, twirling her wand and sending all her books and parchments neatly into her bag, “They’ll figure it out eventually.”

“And then they’ll be worse!” Ron grabbed his bag, “You know they will be!”

Hermione smiled and took Ron’s arm, “You’ll be fine, I promise.”

It was with a warm hand on Castiel’s shoulder that Chuck watched his son die for the first time. Watched as the archangel shredded Cas under the weight and pull of angelic power. It was messy. It was callous.

Chuck wiped his blood-covered hands on his jeans, feeling the way the slick met rough—what was left of his son smeared on the denim.

Dean had come and gone and Chuck was left, sitting in the red-painted house, knowing that somewhere, his firstborn son was breaking free. Going to end the world.

Chuck sighed, grabbing a bottle of liquor from the counter and taking a deep swig. He could still see the glow in Castiel’s eyes. Not from grace, but from something perhaps more pure. Like a memory of the light once used to create the earth and all the creatures that inhabited it. The light that Chuck had given his creations straight from his own fingertips.

Cas, you beautiful idiot, he had thought as the room shook and he watched his son hold his ground, his last breaths rooted in a pearl of hope for the Earth. Hope placed in the small hands of two forgettable hunters fighting against the rising powers of hell.

The brave sacrifice of the brown-haired, blue eyed angel who died to save the world would likely never be told, but still, Chuck couldn’t help but think that it was the stuff that stories were made of.

It was quiet now, in the kitchen with the reminder of Cas, the man who’d ripped up the pages of destiny and spat in the face of fate. The man who’d scoured the earth in search for God with nothing but a second-hand pendant and a desire to protect.

Chuck closed his eyes, tightly. A desire to protect, he thought, his mind drifting back to the sense of wonder he’d felt when he’d first created his angels.

He sat down and poured a little drink on the floor in tribute before squeezing the bottle between his knees. And he tried not to remember that he had the power to protect, too. To protect the world from the impending apocalypse. To protect Castiel.

He didn’t. He wouldn’t. It was a promise he’d made a long time ago when, in an effort to “save,” he’d purged the earth with water. What surprised him, however, was how men continued to preach in his name, building philosophies and stamping them with heaven’s seal without care to God’s sanctions.

“Maybe my children make better Gods than me,” Chuck considered, finding himself again drawn to the two young brothers that, even now, were facing Michael and Lucifer when even their own God couldn’t.Dean and Sam were better men than their father, Chuck thought, and Cas was a better man than me.

Chuck stared at the way the room wore bits of Cas and wondered at the feelings of sentiment he felt. True, Chuck knew all of his angels, but he couldn’t find it in himself to understand why he felt the world was smaller now in the space since he’d watched Castiel die. After all, it was simply the natural order of things. He created angels like shooting stars: fiery, fierce and beautiful. And, like the meteoroids plowing through the sky, Cas had come too close to the earth, burning up inside the atmosphere.

Once, Chuck had commanded the angels to love the humans. The angels had become volatile, hardened creatures, made for duty with no one to serve. Statues of rigid perfection.

Chuck looked down at his own hands, letting his mind wander through the intricate designs of the human vessel he’d created for himself. Human flesh was so different than the fierce ether of an angel. He’d created them with the heads of beasts and great spanning wings. They were formidable, truly, they were. And yet, Chuck knew, even then, when he’d first birthed them, that humans were his most beautiful creation. They were breakable, small, and beautifully flawed. And, he’d known then, too, that he’d created mankind to save them all. To save the angels. To save himself.

It was his own last beacon of hope, that perhaps they could all become something more than the patterns of war and violence that had emanated from him and poured into his creations.

Chuck smiled as he looked at the Supernatural books, knowing he had found it. His broken children who had become more than their God, willing to die for the sake of the planet.

They had transcended him. He always knew they would. But, what had surprised him was the angel in the dirty trench coat and blue eyes, falling away from heaven’s glory for one man. One human. An angel that had such faith in and love for humanity that he’d given up everything.

Chuck bowed his head to his chest. He wouldn’t, he couldn’t get involved. And yet, he could still hear Castiel’s prayers in the back of his head—months of the angel’s voice crying for an absent God to step in and save his children.

And Chuck knew what he had to do. Though it wasn’t much in the grand scheme of things—a small gesture, really. But significant nonetheless.

Slowly, he leaned down to the floor, touching a spot of red with his finger. He watched as the bits of Cas responded, finding their way back to the whole. It was a fascinating process, to see the parts of Cas’s vessel come together, gathering, binding, creating arms, legs, a face. Until, suddenly, he was staring at the calm features of Cas’s body, laying down with his eyes closed, as if he could be asleep.

Then, with a breath, Chuck pulled light from the skies, infusing grace and soul and power to recreate Castiel’s true form, creating a sacred space inside the simple kitchen of Chuck’s home. It felt wrong, in a way, to bring so much of his God self back to the place where he had gone to leave it all behind. And yet, it also felt right. To put something back together again after such a long time of watching things fall apart.

And, finally, it was done as he gingerly placed Castiel back inside the man laying on the ground. He watched as the vessel’s chest hitched with the first breath of life, and smiled when he looked at the body he’d created just for Cas. For the angel who wanted so badly to love humans. In a way, now he could be one. He thought Cas would like that he’d made him look like Jimmy. That maybe he’d find it easier if he could look in the mirror and see the man whose face had first chosen to be so autonomous and free from heaven.

Cas’s eyes were still closed, and Chuck knew he couldn’t let him wake up here. He couldn’t face his son. Not now. Still, he was surprised to find himself kneeling on the floor of the kitchen, running his hands through the soft parts of Castiel’s hair, his thoughts, surprisingly far away from the ending of the rest of the world. Instead, he placed a kiss on top of Cas’s head, sending him to a beautiful forest, by a stream to wake up.

And then the kitchen was empty again, the clock on the wall ticking loudly, and the stain from the spilled alcohol shining on the floor.

Chuck contemplated what he’d done. Wondered at his own need to break every rule that had bound him for centuries and heal one lowly angel when he’d let hundreds of others die.

But, he thought he already knew the answer. Where Chuck had made humans in a deliberate effort at salvation, one lowly angel had been a surprise. A miracle. And, as Chuck sat back in his chair, he smiled as he admitted it to himself: it turned out that maybe it wasn’t just the humans that were there to save. It turned out that maybe, just maybe, a forgettable, self-sacrificing angel with blue eyes and too much heart could be the one to redeem them all.

Vow

*swamped with homework and feelings and managed to shell this out a month late…I’m a mess™*

Request:  Hii can i have a drabble thingy game with jimin?TY😙😉 12,23 by  rebelliousjvmin

Word Count: 8.6k

Originally posted by bwipsul

He’s a literal angel


You were immersed in a deep sleep, tired from working on a large project that was worth half your grade. In you attempt to disconnect from the world around and sleep peacefully, you blocked out the sounds and all touch with reality. The sudden dip in your bed didn’t bother you, the presence of another body and an arm haphazardly wrapping around you, these were things you were blocking out. Until you felt a finger on your cheek.

“Hey, roomie.”

“I hate you.”

“You know you love me.”

“Kiss my ass, Jimin.” You used to think you were lucky to be paired up with your best friend in the dorms of your university. Until you realized he was a clingy, sassy and messy guy that never failed to annoy you. His leisure attitude towards school was opposite to your dedication to reading every word of your textbook. He was a jock, baseball being the reason he was here in your room and cheekily smiling at you.  

“I wouldn’t mind doing that.” You whacked him in the face with your pillow, wanting him to leave your room but he instead pulled you closer against his chest.

“Let go of me, you pervert.”

“You told me to kiss your ass, now…”

“I swear to god, Jimin, I’ll suffocate you in your sleep.”

“Kinky. I always wanted to test out breath play.”

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Locker Room*

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader
Rating: Explicit
Summary: There’s no real plot, maybe Reader wants to fool around in a locker room. Once again, this poor summary does not reflect my writing in general, I hope. Bear with me, please.
Words Count: 2.7k
Genre: NSFW/SMUT - 18+
Warnings: Smutty gifs, swearing, dirty talking, oral sex (both receiving), Chris being a butt guy (?), fingering and protected sex in a locker room, I guess.

Gifs used below aren’t mine, credit to the rightful owners.

    “Seriously Chris, why would you work out so late?” You whined, throwing your gym bag at the back of the car as you popped in, sitting next to him.

    “Listen, we both like this gym and this hour is the best time slot.” Your boyfriend huffed out a laugh, pecking your cheek and you buckled up the passenger seat belt.

    “There are other interesting ways to do exercises,” you wiggled your eyebrows, wandering your fingertips along his thigh and he rolled his eyes, starting the car. “If you do this to preserve your privacy then think about wearing something else than a cap. This became so obvious it’s Chris Evans hiding under.”

    “Always hilarious, Y/N,” he looked at the road, driving through Los  Angeles and you leaned your head against the seat, setting your running shoes on the dash. “You know it’s the job, I’m starting to film Infinity War in a couple of months now.”

    “Really, I had no idea… Captain Fucking Obvious.” Your eyes stared straight through the window as he glanced at you with his eyebrows furrowed, giving you his special look he used whenever you used sarcasm and a small laugh slipped through your lips.

    Once you’d finally reached the gym club opened at night, you both headed towards the different locker rooms and you got rid of your bag and jacket. You finally joined your boyfriend in the room - with some other people - and you saw him already working out as he focused on the upper part of his body.

    You smiled and as Chris sent you a wink, you tried to leave this glorious sight of him flexing his biceps, grunting lightly or tensing his back so much that you could’ve drawn the muscles through his T-shirt. You couldn’t help but internally gush over how very handsome he looked like this and how sexy his athletic outfit embraced all his muscles tightening then relaxing.

    Shaking your head slightly, you chose to concentrate the hard work on your legs for the night and you climbed on your favorite device, trying to forget the thoughts flying above your mind.

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    I’ve been thinking about professor!magnus and soldier!alec since yesterday and idk if I want to commit myself to writing something like that when I know nothing about the army but I feel like there could be something very heartbreaking about it. 

    Like maybe Alec is about to be deployed and it’s his what… 2nd? 3rd? tour and he’s happy to be unattached, despite what his siblings always say, because he knows how hard it is to be separated from the ones he loves but also to be left behind and he doesn’t want to do that to someone. So he doesn’t date and he doesn’t have a lot of close friends apart from his family and it’s ok, hes doing something important, serving his country and following his family’s footsteps (ofc they’d be a big military family) but then he meets Magnus … Idk where, somewhere random like a bookstore or grocery store or the outdoor market Izzy dragged him to and sparks  f l y. And Alec is confused/overwhelmed and reluctant despite Magnus flirting 110% with him. Maybe they exchange numbers maybe not, maybe they randomly meet again and Magnus is like uh funny twist of fate *flirty grin* and Alec is just…. abort mission holy shit help ???Because even though he’s had flings and hooks up, he’s never had a crush or somebody that made him go w o w  like this and it’s new? But he kinda wants to break his rule and say yes when the hot college professor asks him out and that’s new and kinda scary but he blurts out yes before he can fully think about it or change his mind. Of course, he has a nervous breakdown afterward and Izzy is like pls find your chill but he can’t find his chill cause he’s going away to get shot at in less than 3 months and the timing couldn’t more off and that’s not fair to Magnus to get him involved like that… Because, of course, Alec is the type of person to worry too much before anything even happens. Anyway, so they go on a date maybe a walk at dusk and some ice cream?? Idk why but I’m imagining this is set in a small coastal town? They can walk near the water while talking about everything and nothing?? I’m seeing a make out session on top of a lighthouse? Anyway, when Alec tells Magnus what he does and where he’s going he’s all sorry about that I should have told you straight away when you asked me out but Magnus is all its ok lets just see where this goes, it doesn’t have to be serious since you’re leaving so soon and they agree to have a fling… but feelings happen and it’s inconvenient!!!

    I like imagining Alec walking Magnus to his classes when he’s stayed over the night before (Magnus teaches history in this, I feel it). And maybe on mornings he wasn’t at Magnus’ he does a little detour on his morning run to buy him breakfast and he leaves it in his office during the 8am lecture that Magnus hates so that he’ll have something nice after that hardship, a little muffin and a coffee with a cute note on the cup ‘cause Alec is sappy af even though he tries very hard to hide it. And maybe he buys Magnus peonies at some point, just because they’re pretty and Magnus is pretty and he’s never bought flowers for anyone before and he wanted to… And Magnus keeps teasing him flowers are not casual Mister!! because it’s easier to flirt and tease than to acknowledge the fact that Alec is leaving really soon and he might not come back, and Magnus isn’t even important enough to be considered someone he’s leaving behind (or at least that’s how he feels). Magnus tries not to think about it but he’s obsessing over the idea that he doesn’t even know Alec’s family and friends, doesn’t know anyone who would tell him if something happened??? But he doesn’t want to bring it up because it’s supposed to be casual and meaningless, something that ends when the semester ends. So they keep going on dates and Alec cooks for him and Magnus tries to ignore the uneasy feeling growing in his chest as time flies too fast. Until there aren’t any time left and Alec is leaving. So they take a walk just like their first date and they have ice cream and they make love and they definitely don’t talk about it even though they both know that they should and Alec just… leaves. 

    And Magnus tries not to have a hard time about it but it’s tough and he’s grateful it’s the end of the semester ‘cause at least he’s busy between marking terrible essays and correcting exams. He goes out with his friends from the history department once they’re all done and he tries to have a fun time, but truth is… he’s worried. He starts watching the news a little too obsessively and his friends don’t like it but he can’t help himself. 

    Alec has been gone three weeks when the first letter comes. It takes Magnus by surprise at first because in all the times they’ve been together Alec has always been a man of little words. That’s not to say he was emotionally unavailable or unwilling to discuss things and his feelings, but this is new, the way the words flow easily on the page like it was no hardship at all to put it all down, descriptions of his unit and where he is, a full paragraph about how much he misses Magnus’ cat and nothing about them at all. But Magnus gets it, he sees it for what it is, a peace offering maybe or a stubborn unwillingness to let go, so he writes back. He talks about his students, their successes and their struggles, and his friends, little things that have reminded him of Alec since he’s been gone. Soft stories for a soft boy in a hard place. And they keep going back and forth, sending each other little pieces of their respective lives and it should be enough, it’s more than Magnus expected, but it’s tough and he misses Alec like a limb, misses him in his bed and in his kitchen, misses him when summer classes start and he has no one to hold his hand on his way to work, no callused fingers to wrap around his… But every new letter is a blessing. It says many things but underneath it all, the most important message is I’m still here, I’m alive and I’m thinking about you. 

    Okay so maybe it all comes to a halt one day when his phone rings and it’s Alec on the line, after all those weeks, all those months, and he sounds like h e l l  and he’s there on the phone, apologizing to Magnus because his phone bill is gonna be awful but I …. I just… I needed to hear your voice Magnus, I’m sorry. You… you c-can send me the bill if you want, I just… and it takes everything Magnus has for him not to break down and cry right there and then because Alec really doesn’t sound okay and he has no idea what happened and he has no idea what they are but that’s his boy there on the phone who’s hurting and he hasn’t heard his voice in weeks… So Magnus is like Please shut up about my phone bill, I don’t give a fuck about that. How are you? Are you okay? What happened? And Alec is reluctant to talk about it, doesn’t want to give any details, just keeps saying rough day, Magnus, rough day in this small voice and Magnus hates it more than he’s ever hated anything in his life. He doesn’t want to push Alec too hard so he just asks what can I do? and he hates the way his voice shakes, he wishes he could be stronger than this but Alec doesn’t seem to mind, he just sighs like he’s tired deep in his bones, deep in his soul, and says: just talk to me. So Magnus does, he rambles on nervously about what he had for breakfast and what he taught today, his lecture plan for tomorrow, his neighbor’s hatred for his cat and his favorite designer on the new season of Project Runway. He just babbles on, hoping it can help. All he wants to do is help. Alec hums here and there, asks a few questions, especially about Magnus’ work and at some point he runs out of things to say. There’s a beat of silence before he whispers I love you and he knows that won’t help but he can’t keep it inside anymore, he can’t live with this trapped inside of him, fighting to break free. Alec sighs again. I.. I w-wish… You… you shouldn’t say that. Don’t say that, please. It shouldn’t take Magnus by surprise but it does and it hurts. Me not saying it won’t make it untrue Alexander. Alec groans in frustration and Magnus can picture it perfectly, the way he’s probably bent over, head between his knees, one hand harshly buried in his hair. I didn’t want to put you through that. I didn’t want to put anyone through that but especially not you. He’s so noble and he’s so caring and Magnus knew that already but it hits him again, hard, that this is a man who puts others before himself every single time and who will fight tooth and nail anyone who dares try taking care of him. So Magnus does his best to sound as stern as he can:  Well just too bad because I’m here and you’re there and I love you. And you wishing it hadn’t happened won’t change anything and if you like me even the tiniest bit you’ll call me again because I have been worried sick. 

    Alec calls every week after that. There’s a new kind of anxiety that comes with waiting for the phone call, waiting for the confirmation that Alec is okay, but Magnus is happy to live with it when it means he can hear Alec’s voice once a week, warm and soft when he asks Magnus what he’s been up to and insists to be put on the phone with the cat. I don’t want him to forget me! 

    That boy. 

    They don’t talk about what they are again and it takes until Alec is back on American soil, his head buried in Magnus’ neck so no one can see him cry, for him to say I love you back, but it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t need it. For now, Magnus cherishes every time his phone rings and he gets connected to Alec, he cherishes every time he can make him laugh, he cherishes every single plan they start making, every single hint that they can have a future together. 

    It’s enough. 

    Audition

    A NIGHT AT HOME | TAEHYUNG VERSION

    WORD COUNT: 3,112

    warnings: graphic smut, dirty talk, spanking, slight exhibitionism, squirting

    Originally posted by jitonic

    masterlist | ask | song 


    “Y/N? Are you listening to anything I’m saying?” Taehyung uttered under his breath, dumbfounded that you were daydreaming once again, a reoccurring phenomenon apparently.

    “Mm?” You looked up from your plate, eyes immediately locking with his brown feline-like orbs. The contours of his face seemed sharper than usual, which saying something as your boyfriend had a jawline sharp enough to kill a man; he probably thought you were ignoring him.

    The two of you were sat comfortably at the dining table, having just eaten dinner. You met Taehyung by accident three years ago in a movie theatre, he saw your sky blue jumper and assumed you worked there, giving that it was a similar colour to the uniform employees wore. As soon as you turned to face him he became overwhelmed by your beauty, and by his impending embarrassment. He apologised profusely and bought your ticket, writing his number on the back of the small piece of paper.

    Calling him that night was the best decision you ever made.

    Keep reading

    anonymous asked:

    Do you think Neil has a binder (solely) for Andrew (and him) and one for his Foxes? What's inside the binder(s)? And ohh btw I just simply love your hc about the photos ((and i want more bec i love you and your hcs so much))

    thanks bb <3

    (neil only got the binders because he can’t cover every spare inch of the walls of their apartments in photos and articles - even he recognises that it would make it look like a serial stalker’s den. yes, andrew’s slightly judgmental expression did help him to reach that conclusion)

    anyway, a list of some of the contents of neil’s post-graduation binders:

    • every photograph and article about kevin day neil can get his hands on - and there’s a lot of them. kevin holding trophies, kevin with his teams, kevin and thea in elegant clothes at big events, kevin smiling in a way that starts fake but gets more real as the years pass. kevin, alive. kevin, victorious. kevin with everything that riko tried to take from him. (enough of them that andrew made a dry comment or two about neil at least being predictable in his obsessions) (he’s quietly satisfied by the progression, too)
    • articles on robin, as both a fox and afterwards, concrete proof of neil’s work as a captain and andrew’s…something neil isn’t quite sure of sometimes, still. photos of her standing tall and proud, no trace of the mousey child who was nearly too afraid to be a fox
    • a collection of postcards addressed to them both in renee’s neat hand - pictures of mountain ranges and jungles and forests and deserts and cityscapes, ones that still make neil think about a different kind of travel than the frightened bolt he and his mother did across half the planet all those years ago with that vague kind of longing for something different
    • the entire photographic coverage of allison’s first fashion show (neil was there, which meant andrew was there. unsurprisingly, andrew ‘i wear designer clothes’ minyard found it more interesting than neil ‘the height of fashion is my partner’s oversized hoodie and these jeans that i’ve had for ten years’ josten)
    • a heavy piece of cream card inviting neil and andrew to the wedding of nicholas hemmick and erik klose (they went. neil had never seen nicky happier)
    • a picture of matt and neil hugging on the court after eschewing the more normal post-game handshake, wearing different colours and smiles
    • articles following dan’s career, from her first teams through to the foxes, including photos of her familiarly disapproving and determined and delighted expression on the sidelines or amongst her players
    • a collection of photos taken by various foxes at their ‘reunions’ - matt and dan curled in the same armchair, dan laughing because she’s getting squashed. renee braiding allison’s hair, her face all careful concentration, while allison sits on the floor between her knees drinking wine. aaron and kevin arguing, for old time’s sake. nicky and andrew making drinks while erik watches on in the background. all of them together in one mess, no one looking the right way, someone’s eyes closed, someone laughing a little bit too hard - perfect
    • a singular photo of jean moreau, helmet under his arm as he looks down at jeremy knox, the man he followed through the professional leagues post-college. he’s smiling in it, grey eyes crinkled in the corners. (neil can’t quite explain why he kept it - he doesn’t look at it much. when he does, he remembers)
    • a collection of articles about andrew on the court, from his first year pro all the way through. articles that still call him dangerous, but mean it in relation to the scoring percentages of his opposition. photos of him stretched out in goal, immortalised in brutal determination, beside total strangers calling him talented, even calling him revolutionary because of his style of play
    • more articles about andrew, off of the court - andrew as an icon, flat-faced beside LGBT campaigners for sports, speaking bluntly and truthfully and tactlessly at events as an invited guest. 
    • andrew, whose thesis on the treatment of mentally ill juveniles in the justice system was publicised by a psu student, who stared at everyone who questioned him about it in a way that unmistakably said i meant what i wrote
    • andrew, the survivor, who donates so much of his salary to a variety of causes, who did before anyone knew and who continued after it became public like he didn’t give a fuck because he didn’t
    • photos of the andrew that belong to neil, ones that make andrew curl his lip if neil pins them up - he and his brother standing shoulder to shoulder at the reception of aaron’s wedding, caught on camera by the official photographer in a very rare moment of understanding. him bathed in the light of a sunset on their balcony, all golden. he and neil together wearing red, white and blue in the locker room of a foreign stadium, ready to walk on the court for their country. him on the couch, asleep on his belly with one of the cats curled up in the cup of his lower back
    • (neil doesn’t mean to document his own history, only theirs - it happens by accident. there’s a photo of him beside kevin, medals around both of their necks at a world cup final. a photo him in the audience of an event where andrew is on the stage, photographed looking up from the crowd with a slight smile on his face included in an article on andrew. one from a reunion, taken from behind him and andrew with the sun turning them to silhouettes, including where their hands are curled together between them. a headshot of him from a where are they now-style article on the first ncaa champion fox team, scars on display and stare as bright and challenging as ever - still alive)
    GOT7 Reaction: Feeling Needy and Texting Their Crush To Meet Them At The Dorms

    (Lit there was a couple times I forgot I was writing a reaction and not a one shot and almost made a full on smut XD Enjoy anon! I made this one way, way ahead of when I planned to because of the requests that are lined up before you, but I couldn’t help it because GOT7 are my bbys okok.)

    Jaebum:

    Originally posted by jehbum

    JB had absolutely no idea why, but at the moment he couldn’t get you and your body out of his mind. He was in the middle of a small meeting with the rest of GOT7 when his mind veered to the thought of you and what you would look like bouncing up and down on top of him, your perky breasts held tightly within his hands.

    Keep reading

    An Offer He Can’t Refuse

    Title: An Offer He Can’t Refuse

    Summary:  The reader tries to make it up to Dean after they argue, even though she’s not sure what he’s angry about.

    Author:  Dean’s Dirty Little Secret

    Characters:  Dean Winchester x female reader

    Word Count: 2592

    Warnings:  nsfw, explicit language, explicit sexual content, oral sex (female receiving), unprotected sex

    Author’s Notes:  Written for @avasmommy224 birthday challenge. It had to include smut and the prompt “I’m gonna make him an offer he can’t refuse.”

    Originally posted by canonspngifs

    Keep reading

    6

    At last I took one big, callused hand and slid forward so I knelt on the boards between his knees. I laid my head against his chest, and felt his breath stir my hair. I had no words, but I had made my choice. 

    Cool Down- Steve x reader

    Authors Notes: So, this morning I just made myself sit down and write and this is what came of it… I don’t love it but here it is..

    Notes/Warnings: Just a ton of fluff.

    Originally posted by hothothotgg

    “Can I ask you something?” Steve played with your hair and stared at the ceiling. The two of you had been laying on the floor like this for about two hours, now. Just breathing.

     This had become routine after your combat training. He’d teach you and work you till you couldn’t anymore. Then, the two of you would lay down and wait for your bodies to cool off. It hadn’t originally taken two hours but the more it happened the longer you two stayed like that.

     Today was no different, until he spoke.

     “Sure.” You said with closed eyes.

     “What do you think you’d be doing if you weren’t with the Avengers?” He asked.

    Keep reading

    True Colors

    Named after the song by the Weeknd bc I am trash. Thank you to @caspercassiecas for being my beta. This is my first fic on this account, and my ask box is always open for requests. Hope you enjoy!

    Word Count: 3606

    Warnings: Smut, fluff, disgusting dude at a bar, reader has a dragon tattoo, sex related humor at the end.


    “Y/N!” You heard Lin shout, and you sighed heavily, still holding the coffee that the man had sent you to get. You looked around for him, noticing that he was on the other side of the stage. The stage where the company was practicing.

    You groaned, sprinting across the stage, ducking and spinning around dancing people. You somehow managed to get across without spilling the coffee, handing it to Lin and smiling before you heard your name called again.

    “Y/N! Come meet Diggs! He was sick yesterday, so you didn’t get to meet him!” You heard Christopher shout, and you groaned again, sighing heavily. You looked over, trying to find where Christopher was standing.

    “You guys are lucky I do sports.” You muttered, Lin cackling and patting your shoulder.

    “Yes, we are. You’ve got a busy second day ahead of you, kid.” Lin laughed, and you groaned, running back across the stage, doing a slide on your knees between a dancer’s legs and ending up at Christopher’s feet, scrambling up.

    “Sorry, I learned yesterday that if I time it right, I can get across the stage without being hit.” You explained, brushing yourself off before smiling widely at Christopher and the tall man beside him.

    “Y/N Y/L/N, Daveed Diggs, Daveed Diggs, Y/N Y/L/N. Y/N is our new intern since Jessica quit the other day.” Christopher introduced them, and you smiled warmly, shaking Daveed’s hand. He opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by Phillipa calling out for you.

    “Y/N!”

    You made an apologetic face, wincing.

    “Sorry, it was lovely meeting you, Diggs. I’ll catch you later.” You waved, weaving between the dancers once more, yelping when one grabbed your hand, spinning and dipping you. You went along with it, doing a couple dance steps with him before he let you go and you ran off to find Phillipa.


    You were backstage, delivering Leslie a tea before he had to go on. You sighed heavily, rubbing your eyes as you knocked on Leslie’s dressing room door. You heard a muffled ‘come in’ and opened the door, absently tugging on your hair with your free hand. You poked your head in carefully.

    “Hey, Leslie, they didn’t have chai, so I had to get you vanilla, I hope you don’t mind. If it’s an issue, I can run down to the corner store really quick.” You greeted, voice rough from how much you’d spoken that day. The three men in the room turned to you, all smiling. Anthony stood, opening the door for you fully. Daveed waved and smirked from his spot on the couch. Leslie was leaning on his vanity, smiling widely at you.

    “It’s no issue, thank you, Y/N. Have you met Diggs? He was out sick yesterday when you were here.”

    “Yessir, I have met Diggs. Though I’ve been bouncing around all damn day so I haven’t had a chance to properly speak to him.” You laughed, handing Leslie the tea and smiling at Anthony, who appeared to be struggling with his collar, which wouldn’t stay down.

    “Anthony, do you need some help?” You asked, furrowing your eyebrows and tilting your head slightly. He looked up and smiled brilliantly.

    “Yes, please, actually. I can’t get it to stay down.”

    You clicked your tongue, muttering under your breath as you reached a hand to your side, pulling a safety pin out of your jeans. You carefully stuck it in the fabric of Anthony’s coat, pinning it down.

    “Alright. Anyone else need anything while I’m in here?” You asked, eyeing Daveed out of the corner of your eye. You noticed his eyes on your legs, moving around your body. He caught your eyes and you raised a brow.

    “Coffee would be nice.” Daveed murmured, and you nodded.

    “Any specifics on how to make it?”

    “I like mine how Lin takes it.”

    “Lin takes any kind of coffee I give him.” You snorted, tugging at your hair again as you left the room, sighing heavily.


    The Next Day

    You were helping one of the dancers through a run, copying his movements effortlessly.

    “Y/N! Need you!” You heard Daveed call, and gave the dancer a sad look, jogging off to Daveed’s dressing room, knocking on the door and waiting for the signal to come in. You jumped as Lin opened the door, putting a hand over your heart.

    “Jesus! Lin, you almost put me in cardiac arrest.” You scolded, furrowing your brows as you slipped in.

    “Sorry, Y/N. I was just leaving.” He laughed, waving as he shut the door. You turned your head, spotting Daveed by his vanity. Your mouth ran dry. He was in a tight black t-shirt, one that outlined every single one of his muscles, and a pair of jeans that fit just right on his hipbones. You forced your eyes to his face, smiling.

    “Hey, I was wondering if you could help me with the Lafayette bun. I can’t seem to get it right today.”

    “Uh, yeah, s-sure.” You stuttered, blushing bright red. You mentally cursed yourself, walking over and carefully pulling his hair up, forming it into the bun.

    “You’re blushing. Are you feeling okay, Y/N?” He practically purred, and you flicked your eyes up to look at him in the mirror, still putting the hair tie around his hair.

    “Yeah. Just a little warm in here.” You lied effortlessly, finishing the bun and smiling at him in the mirror.

    “Need anything else?”

    “The cast is going out tonight, Lin wanted me to see if you’d come. He had to run to set before he could ask himself.”

    “He could’ve shot me a text. But yeah, I’ll come.” You murmured, pulling a pocket notebook out of your jeans and scribbling down your number, tearing it out and setting it on his vanity.

    “You’re the only person who doesn’t have my number. Text me the location and dress code tonight, please.” You murmured, walking out of his dressing room.


    You almost fell out of the shower trying to grab your phone in time to answer the incoming call. You stood, dripping on the floor, pressing the phone against your wet cheek.

    Hey, it’s Daveed. I’ll come pick you up. Tell me your address and wear somethin’ nice, aight?” He greeted, and you made a humming sound.

    “Will do. Uh, I live in the Deerfold Apartments on eleventh, number 112. I’ll have to buzz you in.” You answered, running a hand through your still soapy hair.

    You sound out of breath. You feeling alright?

    “I was in the shower when you called. Almost fell trying to answer.” You laughed, listening to his own warm laugh radiate through her speakers.

    Alright, I’ll let you finish your shower. See you in about 30 minutes.” He said, and you hummed. The call ended. Or so you thought.

    You put your phone down, stepping back in your shower. You went back to your singing, belting out the lyrics to old rock songs at the top of her lungs, running conditioner through your hair. You quickly washed your body and shaved, turning off your shower. You grabbed the towel you kept by, sighing at the puddle of water on the floor.

    “Dear god that’s so much water.” You said to yourself, drying off quickly before putting the towel on the floor to soak up the water.

    You pulled your hair into another towel, twisting it up and whistling as you stepped on the other towel, singing once again. You picked up your hairbrush and phone, starting on Lemonade, Beyonce’s new album. You picked up the towel and your dirty clothes, walking out to your bedroom, singing at the top of your lungs.

    You can taste the dishonesty,
    it’s all over your breath,
    ” You sang, tossing your phone on the bed. You continued singing, putting your dirty clothes and both towels in your hamper. You quickly brushed out your hair, accidentally tripping over a pile of clothes and letting out a loud string of curses. You heard quiet laughter, popping up and trying to find the source of the sound. You scrambled to your phone, finding that you were still in a call with Daveed.

    “Diggs! Why didn’t you hang up?!” You exclaimed, turning bright red.

    I heard you singing and wanted to stick around to see if you’d sing a song from the show.” You heard his familiar voice crackled through the phone.

    “Jesus Christ.” You groaned, knowing you’d never live this down.


    You buzzed Daveed in, walking back to your bedroom and stepping into your dress, pulling it up. You struggled with the zipper, getting it up about halfway before you heard a knock on your door. You sighed, walking over to your door and opening it. You gave Daveed a slightly awkward smile.

    “Can you zip me up, please? I can’t seem to get it.” You asked, and he laughed, nodding his head. You turned, holding in a shiver as his warm hands ran up your spine, zipping the dress. You felt his fingers lingering, brushing along the dragon tattoo at the base of your neck.

    “Nice ink. Do you like dragons?”

    “No, I hate them.” You said sarcastically, rolling your eyes and stepping into a pair of heels, grabbing your jacket and purse.

    “Alright, let’s motor.” You smiled, spinning your keys around your finger. He nodded, stepping aside to let you out. You locked your apartment, linking your elbow with his and letting him escort you.


    You laughed at the story Lin was telling the people at the table, sipping your wine. Daveed was digging into his steak, being quieter than usual. Anthony was on your other side, casually sipping his wine as well.

    “Hey, D, you doing okay?” You asked, voice quiet. You glanced over at him, raising a brow. He smiled, nodding.

    “I just can’t cut this damn steak.”

    You laughed softly, shaking your head and sipping your wine again. The waiter walked over, setting down a wine glass and a note in front of you. You raised your eyebrows. You glanced at the table, making sure they weren’t paying attention before you spoke.

    “Oh, I didn’t order this, sir.” You said, smiling up at the waiter.

    “It’s from the gentleman in the blue shirt at the bar.” The waiter smiled, and you nodded, looking at the glass of wine and flicking your eyes up to the guy at the bar, who smirked and waved at you. You opened the note, reading it and suppressing a disgusted face. You pulled your notebook and pen out of your bag, scribbling down a note back and chugging the wine. You handed the note and empty glass to the waiter, smiling.

    “Tell him he has awful taste in wine, but thanks anyway.” You requested, and the waiter read your note and laughed, nodding his head.

    “Yes, ma’am. You have a strong voice in your writing.” He commented, and you smirked.

    “I’m aware. Thank you very much.”

    You sipped your previous glass of wine, looking over at a call of your name.

    “So, Y/N, what did blue shirt guy say in his note?” Lin asked, and you sighed, shaking your head.

    “I should’ve known better than to think that would’ve gotten past you. I thought it would be a nice note, but it was vulgar as all hell.” You muttered, shaking your head and glaring at the note.

    “What did you say back?” Renee laughed, and you shrugged, smirking.

    “I said that he was a pussy for saying it in a note with wine instead of to my face, and if he really expected that to work or get him laid, then he was more idiotic than I thought at first glance.” You answered Lin, who snorted loudly, cackling.

    “Wait, lemme see his note! Y/N, you gotta show me!”

    “Lin, read it out to us!” Oak laughed, and Y/N giggled, passing the note to Lin. He cleared his throat, getting out his most dramatic voice.

    Hey, I really like your dress. I think I’d like it better on my floor, though. I like your lips as well, and I sure would love to see them wrapped around my 11-inch cock, come take charge of me, honey, I can show you a good boy,” Lin read, and you listened to the table burst out into loud laughter. Anthony gave you a sympathetic look, and Daveed swallowed his piece of steak before speaking to her.

    “Are you even into being the dominator, Y/N? I get a more vanilla vibe from you.”

    You raised your brows at him, laughing softly.

    “And I think that’s my cue, sorry, guys, I have to wake up early and run around all day tomorrow.” You spoke, avoiding the question as you slipped on your coat, digging your wallet out of your purse and handing Lin $20 dollars, paying for your food. You waved as you walked out, blowing a kiss at them.


    You stretched up, grabbing a pack of powder creamer from the cabinet, dancing to the singing you heard from the stage. You stirred it into the cup of coffee that sat in front of you, singing along softly. You nearly jumped out of your skin as you felt a pair of hands on your hips.

    “Did I scare you away last night, baby?” Daveed whispered in your ear, and you shivered.

    “N-no, Daveed.” You replied, shivering at the feeling of his breath on your neck.

    “You gonna answer my question, baby girl?”

    You had to forcibly suppress a moan, subconsciously grinding your ass against his crotch. He laughed quietly, pressing a small kiss to the juncture of your neck and shoulder. You released a shaky breath.

    “I don’t like to dominate, I like being dominated.” You muttered, and he bit into your neck, hard enough to leave a bruise and draw a moan out of you.

    “Can’t fuck you here, baby girl.” He murmured, and you whimpered.

    “I’ll swing by your place later.” He murmured, and you nodded desperately, grinding against him once more before he pulled away, smirking at you as he walked away, leaving you panting and blushing at the counter.


    You buzzed Daveed in, practically bouncing as you walked off to your bathroom, checking your appearance one more time, perfecting everything. You heard him knock, walking cautiously over to your door and opening it, stepping aside to let Daveed in.

    “You can take your shoes off by the door, and, uh, hang your jacket on the free hook.” You greeted, blushing bright red.

    “You’re cute when you blush, baby. If at any point you want me to stop, say ‘red’ okay?”

    “Got it. Red. Okay.” You murmured, nodding. You blushed impossibly brighter when he grabbed your hips again, tugging you against his chest. He crashed his lips down onto yours and you moaned into his mouth, circling your arms around his neck and grinding yourself against him.

    “Fuck, Daveed, bedroom.” You managed when you broke free, pointing to your bedroom door. He nodded, grabbing the undersides of your thighs and picking you up, walking toward your bedroom, leaving kisses on your neck. He tossed you on your bed, tugging his shirt off and unbuckling his belt. He smirked at you.

    “Take off your clothes and hold out your wrists, baby.”

    You were quick to comply, pulling your clothes off in record time and holding out your wrists for him. You moaned a little when you saw he’d finished taking off his clothes while you were distracted with yours. He pulled his belt tight around your wrists.

    You moaned when he trailed a hand down, running a finger along your slit. You tossed your head back, bucking your hips up when he pushed two fingers into you, curling them just right and rubbing your walls. Your mind went blank, moving your hips to meet his fingers as he thrust them in and out of you. He ducked his head down, sucking at your clit, drawing a damn near scream from you. You were impossibly close. Though, to be fair, you’d been close since he’d kissed you.

    “Please, sir, please, let me,” You babbled, mindlessly begging.

    “Can you take three, baby?”

    “Yes, sir, please,” You moaned, arching your back up sharply when he pushed another finger into you, keeping you right on the edge. You started begging again, whimpering when he held your hips down with one of his hands, stopping you from moving.

    “Cum.” He ordered, and you practically screamed his name as you obeyed, back arching, fingers reaching out in your bonds, mind going completely blank. Before you had time to recover completely, he was inside of you, hitting your g-spot immediately.

    “Daveed!” You moaned, dragging out the syllables in his name. He wrapped a hand around your throat, biting hard into your shoulder as he pounded into you. You felt his other hand gripping your hip so hard that you knew you’d have his fingerprints branded onto you for weeks. You moaned again when he bit hard on your breast, then moved his hand and bit into your neck again.

    “You’re mine now, baby girl, no one else can fuck you like this.” He growled into your ear.

    “Yes, sir, yours.” You moaned back, gasping for breath as he slowed down, almost sobbing.

    “Say it, baby. Who’s are you?”

    “Yours, sir! Please!” You moaned, trying to buck up and get him to go faster again.

    “Who’s?”

    “Yours, Daveed! Fuck, please!” You sobbed, then felt him unbuckle the belt around your wrists, then start up again. You threw your head back once more, raking your nails up his back. You knew there would be marks the next morning from your nails, and that made you moan more, scratching up his back again, then burying your hands in his hair, pulling. He groaned, nodding his head.

    “Good girl, Y/N, fuck. Cum for me, baby girl.” He groaned out, and you let your orgasm take over again, seeing stars. You felt him bite hard into your shoulder, possibly drawing blood, as he came. All the muscles in your body went slack, and you winced at the oversensitivity as he pulled out of you, taking the condom off and tying it, tossing it into the trashcan by your bed. He ran a hand through his sweaty hair, smiling at you.

    “Where’s your bathroom, baby, we need to clean you up.” He asked, voice soft. You groaned, lifting your arm and pointing to a door, sighing when he picked you up. He walked into your bathroom, making a pleased noise at the sight of your bathtub, setting you down on the counter and running you a bath.

    “I’m tired, Daveed.” You muttered, whining as he picked you up again, sitting in the bath with you between his legs, leaning against his chest.

    “I know, baby, let’s just get you cleaned up and then I can take you to bed, okay?”

    “Mm, okay.” You murmured, letting him wash you off. You let your eyes slip shut as he shampooed and conditioned your hair, washing your body gently. You felt him moving around as he cleaned himself, then as he pulled the plug to drain the water. You felt him leave the tub, drying himself off, before picking you up and drying you off, carrying you to your bedroom. You sighed, tossing the towel around you into the hamper in your room before he laid you both down, pulling the blanket up to you and wrapping his arms around you.


    “Hey, Y/N, what’s with the turtleneck? It’s super fuckin hot in here.” Anthony called, and you spun around, smiling at him.

    “That is subjective, Ant. I think it’s really cold, actually.” You lied, shrugging. He raised an eyebrow.

    “Or you got laid last night.”

    You didn’t respond, the color draining out of your face.

    “Holy shit! Guys! Y/N got dicked down!” Anthony shouted, and you pinched the bridge of your nose, groaning.

    “Yes, I did. Is there a reason why my sex life is so exciting to you, Ant?” You sighed, putting a hand on the hip that wasn’t bruised all to hell and glaring at him.

    “Lemme see what the guy did, Y/N, I know you have a tank top under that damn turtleneck,” Anthony said, and you snorted, rolling your eyes.

    “Lin! Make Anthony go away!” You shouted, Lin looking over and laughing at the two of them.

    “Do you even remember the guy’s name? Did you get his number? Are you gonna hit him up? I saw you walking weird earlier but I thought you just pulled a muscle, was he that good?” Anthony shot off, and you groaned, sighing.

    “Hi, baby. He bothering you?” Daveed asked, wrapping an arm around your waist and gently pecking you.

    “Holy shit.” You heard Lin say, then heard Anthony and Oak burst out in laughter.

    “Jesus Christ, we knew you liked her! Lemme see what he did to you, you gotta show me now!” Ant cackled, and you made a grumbling noise, looking up at Daveed for permission. He gave a single nod, and you sighed, tugging your turtleneck off and allowing them to see the plethora of bruises on you. Including the scabbed over bite on your shoulder, claiming marks.

    “Jesus Christ, Diggs, you don’t hold back.”

    “He would’ve but I didn’t tell him to. Is your curiosity sated?” You snapped, glaring. Anthony and Oak held up their hands in mock surrender.

    “Well, now we won’t have to ask why you’re walking funny.”

    “Shut up.”

    soft apologies│a.i

    for mine and @calumsbicth‘s valentine blurb night

    credit to the original owner of the gif

    Requested: yes

    Pairing: Ashton x Reader

    Warning: smut (oh shit), swearing.

    Description: When Ashton forgets about Valentine’s Date he has with Y/N, thoughts and emotions immediately start running through her mind. 

    The clinging sound of your heels filled the kitchen as you prepared the last things for the night. Candles, home-made meal, flowers, everything was perfect. You always hated Valentine’s because you never had anyone to celebrate it with. Your last couple of relationships would always end right before the 14th, so it was not even weird that you were looking that much forward to the night. It all seemed like a movie. You had bought new lingerie, made him food like you were some kind of mum - even though you had to call Calum to get him to help you. Nothing could go wrong.

    Keep reading

    vukica10  asked:

    Elorcan headcanons PLEASE! :)

    YES YOU GUYS LOVE ELORCAN BECAUSE SAME!!! You have come to the right place! I’m loving how much you all love Elorcan

    Ask and ye shall receive

    I’m sorry to the anon who wanted Elucien. I‘m still kind of undecided about them so I don’t really have any, but Ill try in another post :)

    -Okay so I know we all thought Elide would be all innocent but you guys have all read chapter 52? the girl’s been repressed.  Anyway that’s for a later time.  I think when they first get together as enthusiastic as Elide is, Lorcan would have to guide her through it and teach her the ways and it would be slow and soft™

    -Lorcan’s groans literally KILL ELIDE LIKE HOW CAN ONE MAN BE SOOO SEXY?? The world may never know?

    -I don’t think they will ever be like Rowaelin and have no shame to do it in such a public space.  Like those two do it in a bed. or on various place within their house, nothing too public for them. 

    -They are that couple that you see and are jealous of becasue how easy it is between them.  Like they just look at each other when the other isn’t watching, twining finger without really holding hands, just a brush so that the other knows that they are here. 

    -Lorcan hugs elide and when he does he always wraps one hand around the back of her head and pats her hair.

    -elide always feels so safe and at home when he does that.  Like she’s not alone.

    -Lorcan doesn’t really like PDA because he is MR. Stoic™and Elide respects that but she also like to hold onto him sometimes.  By that I mean that Elide like to sit next to him on the couch and play with his fingers and pat his knee.

    -When they are together I just picture them super soft and fluffy with one another, Lorcan loves to make Elide laugh.  Elide loves to lay on top of him and play with his hair. Lorcan loves burying his face in her neck while she holds him because no one has ever held and loved Lorcan the way she does and sometimes its all too much for him.

    -Elide finds Lorcan soooooo sexy when he’s …1) getting dressed quickly 2) strapping blades and battle gear on 3)becomes the general, and is discussing the best attack plan with Rowan and Aedion and Gavriel.  She gets all hot and bothered and Lorcan doesn’t notice the change in smell BUT EVERYONE ELSE DOES

    -Aedion is like, “Jesus you two GET A ROOM.” Lorcan is like, “??????”

    -remember that part where Elide was checking out Lorcan as he was knife throwing…? Yeah, when he train Elide just drools pretty much

    -Every time Lorcan finishes while he’s on top, he just buries his face into Elide’s neck and it takes him a moment to remember how to breathe again

    -Elide has the softest skin and Lorcan loves it

    -Lorcan is a boobs man, have you read the description of Elide boobs? ahahaa he pays lots of attention to that part of her (if you know what I mean)

    - So they start off sex slowly when they are first together but eventually it gets more desperate and wild especially after Lorcan’s been gone for a long time.

    -They are pretty lowkey to me in terms of sex, like they both are perfectly happy an content to not try new things.  Just two people who really love each other and want to show that during sex.

    -Elide on top makes Lorcan the happiest male on the earth.

    -Lorcan loves going down on Elide because he loves hearing her quiet little gasp before she comes.

    On that topic Elide is pretty quiet, just lots of heavy breathing and sighs.  Lorcan growls and groans and Elide livvees for itttt

    -Elide steals all the blankets and Lorcan lets her becasue it means he can come cuddle up closer beside her.

    -Lorcan does some silly things like jumping when the toaster goes off, and Elde just grabs his face and is like, “What am I going to do with you?” and kisses his nose.  Yes, his nose. bc he’s so fucking adorable.

    -Lorcan is caring as hell when it comes to Elide.  When they are home, away from the public’s eye, Lorcan is all soft touches and gentle strokes.

    -Lorcan loves to show Elide in kisses

    -Lorcan always has Elide’s foot wrapped in his magic so that she feels less pain, eventually she forgot that the pain was even there.

    -Lorcan still rubs and massages her foot when they are just lounging on the couch together reading a book or something.

    -When they take baths together, Lorcan loves when Elide washes her hair and she loves it when he massages her back and neck.

    -forehead kisses

    -Elide kisses Lorcan’s hand because he always feels like he doesn’t deserve her.  His hands have done so much killing and damage in his life, he wonders what he did to get blessed with Elide?

    -Elide loves to cuddle.  Lorcan obliges.  He likes it but not as much as her because she is a furnace and he always gets hot, but for her… he’d do it.

    -Elide loves wearing Lorcan’s clothes lets be honest who doesn’t like wearing their S.O.’s clothes???

    -When Elide has nightmare’s Lorcan wakes her up and pulls her close, letting her calm down before he says anything.

    -When Lorcan has nightmares they are a quiet sort of terror.  The kind that leaves you trapped in bed, too afraid to move.  When he finally can move he sits up and pulls his knees to his chest and puts his head between his knees.  Elide wakes up when the bed shifts and sits up to and rubs a hand up and down on his back. She rests her cheek against his shoulder and just stay there with him.

    -They just actually love and respect each other so much

    Drowning. Keith was drowning.

    He was being tossed about in a torrential sea of panic and confusion. He gasped and choked and scrambled frantically, grasping for some sort of clarity, a drop of lucidity, sometime solid to hold and catch his breath.

    With a hoarse cry he found himself bolt upright among his sheets, in the dark little room which was glaringly unfamiliar until he remembered that he was staying with Shiro.

    He gasped for air, cold sweat moving down his face. Each breath itched and tore at his throat, and he felt scalding-hot tears threatening behind his eyes.

    There was a sound of footsteps, the dull click of a light switch, and Keith was momentarily blinded. He blinked a few times, and Shiro seemed to materialize in front of him, kneeling by the edge of the futon with his arm outstretched cautiously, hovering uncertainly near Keith’s shoulder.

    “I heard you yell,” he said, his voice rough with sleep. “Are you okay?”

    “I’m fine,” Keith rasped. “It’s nothing.”

    “Did you have a nightmare?”

    Keith shrugged dismissively, not meeting Shiro’s eyes. Shiro frowned a bit, but didn’t push. “Do you want a glass of water?” he asked. His voice was soft, careful, like he was talking to a frightened animal. Keith wanted to scream. Or cry. Or both.

    He cringed inwardly at himself. He was thirteen years old, not a baby anymore. He should have better emotional control.

    “I’m fine Shiro. Go back to bed,” he said flatly.

    He turned away as Shiro walked towards the door, and felt a shameful prickle of dread when the light died. Suddenly, the was a weight on the futon beside him. He turned to see Shiro settled above the blankets, hands folded on his stomach, legs stretched out and ankles crossed. He gave Keith a little grin.

    “What are you doing?” Keith snapped, crossing his arms. “Go back to your bed, idiot.”

    “I’m protecting you from the monsters under the futon,” Shiro said matter-of-factly.

    Keith’s eyebrows shot up. His mouth opened and then closed again. Then his features settled into another grimace. “Don’t be stupid.”

    Shiro placed a hand on his chest and sent Keith a look of mock outrage. “Excuse me, I have military training, do you not trust me to protect my little bro from the monsters under his futon?”

    Keith reached for his pillow and smacked Shiro with it. Shiro laughed and held his arms up against Keith’s attacks. “Stop! Being! Dumb!” Keith shouted, trying (and failing) to keep the laughter from his voice. His chest felt warm. “Little bro”.

    He’d never had any siblings. He’d never had anyone willing to climb into bed with him after a nightmare or make him comfort food when he was sad or steady him when he was panicking. He’d never had someone who cared about him like Shiro did.

    And as he thought this, they both began to settle. It was a while before they slept, each having a tendency to start talking randomly, eliciting a groan of annoyance from the other, but eventually they both drifted comfortably, side by side.

    Keith had never slept so peacefully in his life.

    ~three years later~

    Shiro choked out a cry as he was launched out of the nightmare and into the cold, dry reality of his tiny room in the castle.

    The cursed softly, burying his head between his knees. It had been like this for a while. If the various little souvenirs from his trauma that presented themselves in his waking life were bad, his dreams were absolutely harrowing.

    He gritted his teeth and withheld a sob. His heart was pounding like a jackrabbit’s, and his skin felt clammy and cold. He tried controlling his breaths, soothing himself piece by piece.

    And then the silence was broken by the thin sound of his door sliding open. He looked up to see Keith by his bed, face tight with concern. He felt the boy’s chilled fingers against his shoulder.

    “Are you okay?” he asked softly.

    “Not sure,” Shiro croaked. He couldn’t help but notice how young Keith looked in this moment. In the past year Keith had hardened, face pulled into a near constant scowl, always wire-taught and ready for a fight. But now, in the dark with his ruffled hair and wide eyes, he looked like a child again.

    “I mean… I’m fine. Just a weird dream,” Shiro assured, trying for a confident smile which was somewhat belied by his visible shaking.

    Keith’s brows drew together and his jaw set. “Move over,” he demanded. Shiro cocked an eyebrow and Keith gave him a gentle nudge. He shifted reluctantly as Keith crawled into bed beside him.

    “Keith, you don’t have to-”

    “I’m a paladin of Voltron,” Keith said matter-of-factly. “I think I can be trusted to protect my big bro from the monsters under his bed.”

    Shiro felt a swell of fondness, and he smiled genuinely. Keith gave him a small smirk and an affectionate shove to his jaw. Shiro allowed himself to settle as Keith babbled softly, snorting and listening and snarking back until they seemed to naturally lapse into silence.

    Shiro had never slept so peacefully in his life.

    Assurance

    Saturday Night Live pretty much destroyed me, and I couldn’t help but writing this after that night. I wrote this in like zero time so I am sorry if it kinda sucks but I had to write down my thoughts immediately lol enjoy pals - M xx.

    You could tell that he was upset just by the way he entered the dressing room.

    It was easy for you to decide why Harry was so upset, just by the way you were watching him so carefully on the live stage. Your mind filled with worry just how his hands ran through his hair so aggressively and how his eyebrows crinkled, creating creases on his forehead. You could tell by the way he walked away from the microphone that the notes he hit weren’t the ones he had in mind, and the thought of him being so disappointed in himself hurt your heart.

    Of course, Harry tried shrugging it off, he didn’t want you to worry. The assured smile he flashed to you as you waited for him didn’t fool you; even when he reached to give you a kiss on the lips you knew that these were just attempts to avoid talking about his first solo performance.

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