he would never think something like that

when their friends find out that isak is in even’s phone as mannen i mitt liv, they’ll never let him live it down. whenever isak’s doing something weird, like picking his nose when he thinks no one is looking, or pouring half a bottle of mayo on all his sandwiches, someone will sarcastically say, “look, there goes the man of your dreams.” but they only get a soppy smile from even, because that’s the man he’s spending the rest of his life with, dorkiness and gross teenage habits and all. they’re a part of isak, and even would never choose to have him any other way. so the joke turns into isak and even making eyes at each other, and honestly, did anyone expect any less at this point, when it comes to these two?

We are not the men our fathers weep for

Eric was born with sharp edges that were unable to fit into any sanded hole, so he fell through the simple geometry of fitting in. He drinks whisky without chasers and doesn’t fix the distorted sounds of his speakers. He thinks Decaprio is a shitty actor and that culture was made to make us believe we’re bigger than a pulse and a pound of flesh. He fucks Dylan with a hand around his throat because he thinks that nothing in this world is able to be handled gently. He channels atheism likes it’s a challenge, he abhors the idea of religion, possibly because if he were to believe in a greater power it would mean accepting the fact that the world hated him, that something higher above him had condemned him to feel pain and white hot anger.

Dylan thinks maybe love is a panacea. Of course he’ll never know when Eric fills his mouth with cum while telling just how twisted he is. Sometimes, when Eric is pounding into him as he stares blankly at the ceiling and sometimes at the boy he has fallen for, and his hands wrap around his neck, Dylan is sure that Eric won’t let go, he’ll just squeeze harder and harder until the breath leaves his body and Eric continues to pound into his cold body. So Dylan learns. He swallows his “I love you”s with a cornucopia of pills and a shot of vodka. It never kills him of course, but he has no opinion on the matter of if he wakes up. He has an unwritten rule against wounds. He slips of course one evening in October. He downs a bottle and a half of Bacardi and after that, commandments are just jumbled. So he tears his skin open with a knife and watches the blood run mutely. Eric doesn’t cry when he sees it. They’re both down to their boxers, lips locked together and Dylan’s got his long fingers scratching at the nape of Eric’s neck, the tips of his fingers brushing against the sandpaper texture of his buzzcut. Eric grunts into his mouth, the sound resonating like a knife plunged into a table. Eric’s hand slithers up his thigh and his fingers stutter on the flesh of Dylan’s thigh. Eric pulls back gently, Dylan’s hand still on the back of his neck, their lips inches away as they stare into each other’s eyes. They’re breathing hard.

“Why’d you do it?” Eric asks, eyes still blown wide, shirtless and panting.

“Skin grows back.” Dylan mutters moving his lips closer.

Eric wants to shove him back, wants to push him away and yell at him and tell him he loves him and that he sees blood on his hands when Dylan frowns. He wants to cover him in kisses like butterfly bandaids and mend the flesh that Dylan ripped apart with Bacardi stained thoughts. He wants to make Dylan fall in love with himself the way Eric fell for him. But God is dead and he died on the stained bed sheets of the Harris household when Eric let Dylan take his lips back, words left unsaid.

Dylan doesn’t feel pain in the way that it stabs through his chest, brutal Hollywood style, his blood spraying across the tangled bed sheets underneath his curved spine. After all its his own doing. But he feels the cold sear through his stomach, the arsenic spreading through his veins. He feels sick in an odd way. He lets Eric kiss him. He lets Eric put his fingers inside him, but it feels like he’s plunging them down his throat.

“Eric, Eric stop,” he gasps out all of a sudden. Eric is quick to retract his fingers and back off. “No it’s okay just-” Dylan looks away. Eric looks at him, puzzled, sitting back on his knees. A tear slips out of the corner of Dylan’s eye and Eric is suddenly alert.

“Hey, hey,” He tries, moving his hand to cup Dylan’s cheek. Dylan lets him massage his face with his thumb, brushing away the tears with unbridled affection. It’s an alien feeling for the both of them, but not bad.

“You think we’ll ever make it out of here?” Dylan asks softly.

“Dyl…” he mumbles quietly, unsure what to say.

“God, I just wanna pretend. I wanna pretend that we don’t both know how it’ll end. I wanna pretend you won’t come into my room at one in the morning for a quick fuck and find me on the floor adjacent to my bed with a bullet through my fuckin skull.” Dylan replies, voice growing slightly louder. Eric doesn’t say anything for a moment.

“You…know I love you,” He mutters uncomfortably. Dylan lets out a sarcastic huff of amusement as he turns to fix Eric with a watery stare.

“Eric you don’t even know what that means.” It hurts. Because Dylan’s fuckin right, he’s always right.

“I want to. I want to learn what it’s like to love someone while they’re still in front of me. I don’t want to love your grave.” Dylan’s eyes are bloodshot but there’s a glimmer of hope at Eric’s words.

“Then stop fucking me like you already regret it and refusing to look me in the eyes. Don’t bite me because you hate yourself.” The words land heavy but the two are used to the blatant honesty.

“We still have time.”

anonymous asked:

my one favourite hc that i dont think of that much is that andrew has actually a nice singing voice and neil is good with drawing, like imagine andrew singing something that is close to what he thinks and feels and neil sits there and never takes his eyes off andrew

oh man i agree that andrew has a great singing voice but it sadly remains an unearthed talent bc i cannot imagine a universe where andrew would actually sing fjfkgk also i am so on board with artist neil i love the idea of him really getting into it and filling up sketchbooks with intimate charcoal studies of andrew i also love the idea of artist andrew like, he’s that asshole who can just casually make a masterpiece in ten minutes then shrug it off like it’s nothing

anonymous asked:

do you think c is gay? i think so too don't get me wrong but in her new song havana (haven't heard the whole thing just a snippet) she sings "he took me back to his cabana" which i don't think is something a non straight would sing....

Lmao!! Yup because artist are NEVER forced to sing or perform songs they themselves don’t like or may not approve of or may have personal misgivings about. That never happens…ever. 😋

Something I love is Diana dramatically posing in front of Steve, announcing she’s ready for the Man’s World:

And he just looks up and goes, “NOICE”. Like, he doesn’t even question why would she wear something like that, he quickly picked these women are not’ playing around and whatever they wear works for them, so Diana’s new outfit must be lit, too.

Later, he asks her to get some new clothes when they get to the Man’s World but it’s not because he believes what she’s wearing is inapropiate, but because he knows the rest of the world will think and they need a low profile.

He never questions her choices of clothing or weaponery. The only time he did was before he saw how fierce the Amazons are, once he saw these women fight, he stood to fight with them, no questions asked, not a shitty comment after.

This is what makes him so unique in front of other male characters in superhero movies. Had someone else wrote and directed the movie, had he been the hero even, we would probably had to sit down and listen to him joke about her armor, question Diana or (yikes, yikes, yikes) see him checking her out in her “next to no clothes” armor.

But instead, he just nods and says “… cool”.

Tyler's instagram live (in case you missed it)

- he’s proud of us
- Jenna had to show him how to use the live video
- he was in his woods, he goes there a lot, and even though it’s his personal space, he “let us in there for a little bit” (not exact quote, but close enough)
- he’s proud of us
- he bought a leafblower and thanked us for it
- he’s proud of us
- he never had to buy a leafblower before, because he never had his own place where leaves could fall, so he never needed one. but now he does, because of us
- he’s proud of us
- he and Josh didn’t go to the Billboard awards because it would have been hard to organise it (and also he didn’t really want to go either)
- he doesn’t really like music awards
- when he was younger, he had to show his music to house guests whenever someone was over. he never wanted to, but sometimes he still showed them his music. every time he did, he was happier afterwards.
- he feels like they wouldn’t be here now without us giving them a little nudge to keep doing there music
(- also I think he might have said something like he wouldn’t even be here at all, but I didn’t fully understand that sentence)
- he’s proud of us
- he’s asking us to be patient with them, they are working on new music (!!!)
- he saw a deer walking by, he went to find it
- he had a bit trouble with turning off the live stream, but eventually did it

4

@cheshirerabit said: Shit, your teacher Bakugou idea is something I never considered but now think would be really cool. Cuz he would not stop being a hero but he wouldn’t half-ass being a teacher so it would be like how All Might attempted to hero and teach but could actually work. Plus, I’m all for Bakugou’s role model switching with time to Aizawa. 10/10 idea.

Anon said: OMG Fran now i want to see Teacher or Older Bakugou or or Bakugou with Aizawa

Bless both of you for giving me a reason to talk about this cause honestly I love this idea way more than striktly necessary - this!!! is how I like to think it would go down:

Keep reading

I’m not saying he was perfect.  He was far from it in fact, but he was something that I couldn’t resist. We never dated, though at times I wish we would’ve. At the beginning, I wasn’t trying to let him in.  I didn’t want to, but somewhere along the line, I fell for him. Hard.

Then, he left.

Like it was nothing.

Like we were nothing.

Like I was nothing.

I don’t necessarily think I was in love with him, but oh, I could’ve been. I really really could’ve been.

—  Excerpt from a book I’ll never write
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.

Keep reading

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 yourself 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. You 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 the idea of spending a whole semester with 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 your head to happen. Just one little accidental shake of your 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 your 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 your 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

(s)he

This is that fic I was talking about the other day, the one I wasn’t sure I wanted to post. I ended up writing TWO similar but distinct fics (different POV, different ending) based on the premise of this fic because I just kept tinkering with it, so this is the second version. The first one… idk, maybe I’ll toss it or maybe I’ll post it later for the curious among you.  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Sterek high school AU, G, 1.7k words

Stiles thinks Scott is joking at first, mostly because he’s laughing so hard he can barely get the words out. “There’s a guy backstage asking for you by name. He’s got flowers.”

Stiles rolls his eyes and goes back to wiping the lipstick off his mouth. After four performances, he can get in and out of the dress and the wig in no time flat. He can even walk in heels without too much wobbling. But the lipstick? Bane of his existence. It still takes him a good five minutes of careful wiping and rubbing with petroleum jelly, and even then his mouth always has this odd orangish-coral tinge by the time he goes home for the night. By that point he’s usually too frustrated by the whole thing to even begin to bother with cleaning off the mascara.

Thank god this is closing night, and in a minute they can all go out for tacos and Stiles can set to work forgetting about lipstick for the rest of forever.

Scott’s still hovering at the door, anticipatory. “I think he likes you. Like, like-likes.”

“Ha ha,” Stiles says flatly. He tilts his head to the left and then to the right in front of the mirror, angling his face up into the lights. “Do you think I got it all?”

Scott gives him a careless glance. “Yeah, sure. Looks fine. But no, seriously, the girl who sells the tickets told me he’s shown up to every single performance.”

Scott isn’t joking. He’s laughing at Stiles (and okay, if their positions were reversed, Stiles would totally be laughing at Scott, too), but he isn’t joking. Fuck. Not even Stiles’ dad has come to every performance. 

Keep reading

Something about Fate

Dean decides to go to a new psychic in town - just for the hell of it, of course - with his roommate Castiel, and doesn’t get the reading he was expecting.

~5.2k

AO3

“Hey, Cas, have you ever been to a psychic?”

Dean watched as Castiel looked up from his book with his eyebrows pinched together.

“No.” A pause. “Why do you ask?”

Dean shrugged.

“Garth texted me. Apparently there’s one in town that he went to yesterday and he’s obsessed. He said she really knows her stuff.”

Castiel raised an eyebrow before returning his attention to the textbook he had sprawled across their kitchen counter, so he could eat and study at the same time - a sight that was not all that uncommon in their apartment.

“Psychics don’t exists, Dean,” he said, matter-of-factly, as he turned the page. “People who claim to be psychic are scammers hoping to draw in the desperate or the gullible. Garth is the latter, I’m afraid.”

“Hey, he’s not -”

“Remember when Gabriel told him that stop signs with a white rim around them were optional?”

Dean rolled his eyes and pulled out a stool on the opposite side of the counter from his roommate.

“Duh, Cas. I know that they aren’t legit. Everyone does. But at the very least they’re supposed to be super good at reading people and then you essentially pay them to tell you what their first impression of you is.”

A small smile crept its way across Castiel’s face.

“I could tell you that for free, you know.”

Dean flipped him off as he got up and pulled out an apple from the refrigerator, not even bothering to look back as he did so.

“Whatever. I think it could be kind of cool.”

“Then by all means…” Castiel wrote something down in a notepad and flipped to the next page. “I think you should do it. I have free time tomorrow if you’d like to find this psychic then.”

Dean tossed the apple between his hands.

“You’d come with me?”

“Of course. I would never miss the opportunity to witness someone predicting your death.”

Castiel laughed as Dean flipped him off again.

Keep reading

Why Do You Hate Me?

Bucky x Reader Smut Fic

Warnings: pure smutty teasing


“What’s up, Steve?” You glanced around the interrogation room in the Tower. “Why’d you want to meet up so early?”

“Just wanted to go over our tactic for this guy coming in.” Steve eyed you carefully. “Make sure we’re on the same page.”

“Punch him if he doesn’t talk.” You sat down in what was to be his chair. “Tighten the restraints if he refuses.” Steve nodded, hands behind his back. “Then do whatever we need to get the information out of him.”

“That’s correct.” Steve pulled a switch out of his pocket and flipped it on. “I’m sorry to have to do this.”

Metal restraints folded over your wrists and ankles and held you in place. Your eyes shifted to Steve as you squirmed in the uncomfortable chair. Steve sat the switch on the table and gave you his best apologetic smile. 

“You can’t keep running out of the room when Bucky enters, (Y/N).” Steve bit his lip and smiled wearily. “And when you two are in a room together, you turn your inner air conditioner down and become ice cold.”

“Steve…” You growled and yanked on the restraints. “Let me go.”

“Not until you two talk.” Steve turned on his heels and swung the door open.

Bucky walked, a smirk plastered on his face, and you froze. Your face went dark and your stare hardened; butterflies fluttered in your stomach. Steve left you alone with Bucky. You hated him.

He fiddled with the switch in silence while leaning up against the table. He eyed you carefully, taking in every inch of your body. His smirk grew as he noticed your hardened nipples through your tank top; you were braless. He kept his mouth shut.

“Let me go, Barnes.” You grumbled the words. “Now.”

“No.” He spoke calmly. “I want to know why you hate me.”

“There are a lot of reasons why I hate you.” Your stare didn’t waver. “We would be here all day if I listed them all.”

“Then just summarize.” He continued smiling. “The more we bicker, doll, the longer you’re stuck alone in a room with me.”

“You’re a womanizing, arrogant, old ass, murdering, son of a bitch who walks around like he owns the place.” You spat the words at him. “You get to do whatever the fuck you want because you’re Steve’s best friend and Steve’s word is the highest. You don’t have to fill out paperwork, go on missions you don’t want to, hell, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

“So, what I’m hearing is…” Bucky sat the switch down and walked towards you. He rested his hands onto of the metal restraints and leaned down to eye level. “You’re jealous?”

“I’m not jealous.” Your heart rate increased at the close proximity. “I’m angry.”

“See…” His eyes searched yours tentatively. “I don’t think you’re angry, doll. I think you’re confused.”

“About what?” You cocked an eyebrow at him and pouted your lips. “What could I possibly be confused about?”

“I think…” He leaned forward and brought his lips to your ear, just close enough to feel the warmth of his breath and nothing else. “That you might just like me.”

“What the fuck would make you think that?” You squirmed in your seat instinctively. 

“Two nights ago…” He spoke slowly, drawing out each word with precision. “I took a nice midnight stroll around the halls…” You were sure he could hear the rapid pace of your heart in your chest. “And I came to your room.” You gulped, you knew damn well what he was leading up to. “Behind your door, I could hear the almost inaudible sounds of you moaning, whimpering, and begging, something I never thought I’d hear from you.” His lips brushed your ear. “At first, I thought you had a guy over and I started to walk away. I got about two steps passed your door when I heard my name sneak out of those beautiful lips of yours.” You bit your lip and closed your eyes. “You were moaning, whimpering, begging, and chanting my name while you were touching yourself.” He pulled away and stood up straight. “That’s why I think you might just like me.”

You were at a loss for words. Your eyes dropped to the ground and you remained silent. You thought over possible snarky responses, but your mind was blank. He was right, you liked him.

“And what if I did just happen to like you?” You refused to look up from the floor.

“I’d have to punish you for treating me so poorly because you couldn’t admit your feelings.” His words came out cold and you raised your eyes. The smirk was still there. “It’d only be fair, you know, given a number of times you brushed me off and treated me like shit.”

“And what kind of punishment would it be?” You couldn’t stop your words. “If I were to admit, you know, that I might just like you?”

Bucky watched you carefully, his blue eyes piercing your own. He stepped quietly behind you, hands resting in his pockets. He dropped his head and whispered in your ear, “May I touch you?” You nodded.

His hands rested firmly on your shoulders before he began massaging them. You sighed deeply at the contact and dropped your head back, hitting his stomach. Your eyes closed, not wanting to know if he could see the pleasure growing on your face just from a massage. A deep chuckle vibrated his body and his hands lowered to your clavicles. 

“Well, a naughty girl gets a naughty punishment.” His hands dipped lower, hovering over your breasts. “Maybe I’d trap you before a mission, when I know you’ll be stuck with the team.” His fingers brushed your hardened nipples through the fabric of your shirt. “Pin you up against the wall…” He lifted the front of your shirt behind your head, exposing your breasts. “Slip my hand down those tight pants of yours…” His thumbs circled your nipples. “Tease that needing cunt of yours with a few flicks and circles to your clit…”

“Bucky…” You bit your lip to silence yourself.

“What? You like it when I talk about punishing you?” He lowered himself down and buried his face in your neck, drawing hickeys to the surface of your skin. “When I talk about getting you all wet and needy with my fingers?” His hands slithered down to your shorts and unbuttoned them. “Would you like that? Not being able to touch yourself for weeks on end?” His flesh hand traced the waistband of your panties. “Or would you touch yourself? Sneak off and curl two of your delicate fingers inside of yourself? Would you do that with the team members there? Where you could easily get caught fucking yourself?” His hand slipped underneath your panties and grazed your clit. “Could you be quiet enough? Your moaning, the sounds of your fingers working your aching cunt, the scream you want to let loose when you cum…” 

“F-Fuck…” Your eyes opened and you saw Bucky looked at you; he was waiting. 

“Do you want me to touch you?” He spoke quietly. “To dip my fingers inside of you and abuse that throbbing g-spot of yours until you’re begging me to cum?”

“Yes.” You breathed out the word and licked your lips. “Please.” You sounded desperate and you hated it, but, fuck, you wanted him, you wanted him to touch you, to feel just how wet you were, to fuck you. You craved him.

“Then I guess you’re going to have to wait until after you get back from your next mission.” Bucky removed his hand and backed away, flipping the switch to your chair before leaving. 

You sat in a complete mess in the chair; your panties soaked, breasts exposed, hickey’s blatantly visible on your neck. You lowered your shirt and buttoned your shorts, disbelief taking over. No, that couldn’t have just happened. I just imagined the entire thing. I’m just laying in bed asleep right now and I’m going to wake up any second. Yeah, this is just a wet dream. I don’t even have any missions coming up, this has to be a dream. Come on, (Y/N), wake up. 

Sam popped his head in and eyed you carefully. “You ready?”

“For what?” You collected yourself and stood from your chair, praying he couldn’t see how much of a mess you were.

“Barnes cancelled and said you’d take his spot on today’s mission. We’ll only be gone for a few days, a week at the latest.” 

“What?” You furrowed your brows. 

“C’mon, we’re running late as it is.” Sam waved you on.

You stepped out of the room and followed Sam down the hallway. You passed Bucky and Steve standing together. Bucky pulled out his phone and caught your eye; he winked before turning his attention back to his friend. Your phone vibrated.

“I may not have pinned you up against the wall, but leaving you begging works just as well.”


A/N: Lots of people voted for Bucky in my most recent “Pick a Pairing” post and so here you guys go!

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Okay watching the promo for next weeks ep is actually upsetting. Seeing Magnus trapped in valentines body not even Alec believing that it’s him breaks my heart. The look of defeat and sadness just shown on his face is killing me i’m actually tearing up

Magnus Bane is trapped in Valentine Morgenstern’s body let’s just think about this. He is probably being questioned possibly even tortured considering we saw that happening to Valentine in 2x11. We see in that promo Alec throwing him up against a wall cause he doesn’t believe it’s Magnus can you imagine how Magnus is feeling? The man he loves the man who loves him is aggressively throwing him against a wall and threatening him and Magnus can’t get through to him. When Alec is looking at Magnus here he doesn’t see the man he loves he sees the man he hates

Also think about the context here Valentine is a genocidal shadowhunter a man who has killed hundreds of Magnus’ people who has tried to kill Magnus and those he loves. Valentine is a man who despises everything that Magnus is and they are trapped in eachothers bodies imagine how scared Magnus is not only for himself but for what Valentine could do.

Let’s not forget that in the first gif he has just been sentenced to death but it isn’t Valentine it’s Magnus. Magnus has just been told that he has been sentenced to death that he is going to die and this is how it all ends when he is finally happy when he has fallen in love. Can you imagine the pain he is feeling the sadness and the fear?

And we see Alec 

and this is the point where he realises something is wrong this might actually be Magnus cause Valentine would never look like that would never show sadness as openly as that. I feel Magnus at this point has lost all hope and honestly I’m going to cry thinking about this cause he is so broken he has given up. You see Alec’s face change you see him slowly realise that maybe this is Magnus his Magnus. I need Alec to fight for the man he loves and after all this is over I need to see Magnus happy because he deserves it after all of this imagine how traumatising this would be?

#DateMeBuckyBarnes (Part 17)

Summary: When Hollywood’s heartthrob Bucky Barnes breaks up with his girlfriend, you jokingly tag him in a selfie on Instagram to express your desire to date him. What you don’t expect is a response from the man himself [Modern AU].

Word Count: 792

‘#DateMeBuckyBarnes’ Masterlist

A/N: Okay, I may or may not be straying away from my original plan with this story now. Uh oh…

Originally posted by itsfuckingvampire

“Maybe it’s a mistake. You know how the media can be sometimes. They just like to stir up trouble,” Daisy reasoned as she paced back and forth in the living room, her gaze flitting over to you. “It’s probably old photos that they used in the articles.”

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Forbidden Love | Pt. 12 [Final]

▷ Jimin Angst

❥ “I think about you a little more than I should..”

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Epilogue

Originally posted by dannismith


“Hara would never do something like that, Y/N!”

The minute you heard those words coming out of Jimin’s mouth, you snapped your head towards him. He was currently walking from side to side, his hands tucking at his hair as you watched him from your sofa.

Raising your eyebrows, you asked him in disbelief. “What? Do you really think I’m lying?!”

Turning his body towards you, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Look, Y/N. I know that you don’t like her and I can understand how you feel. But she would never do that. I know her, Y/N, she’s my ex wife. She wouldn’t harm anyone, never! You’re just trying to cover up your mistakes by blaming other people!”

Each one of his words felt like a stab into your heart. He really thought you were lying.

Standing up from the sofa, you pointed towards the door. “Get out.”

This time it was Jimin’s head which snapped up towards you with a shocked expression plastered on his face. “W-What?”

“I said get out.”

You watched how Jimin’s shocked expression turned into a desperate one, his body moving toward you with big steps. “N-No, no no, wait, Y/N! I didn’t mean it like that! Please listen to me! I’m-”

You felt your blood boiling with each of his words. Just before he could end his sentence, you slapped his cheek, the fresh tears you were trying to hold back already rolling down your face. “You didn’t mean it?! Do you know what I went through for the past three years, Jimin?! Do you know how hard it was for me to handle your ex wife and her threads every single day?!”

Reaching out for your phone, you opened the conversation with Hara and slammed your phone against his chest. “Here! Read it! This is what I’ve been going through for the past 3 years!”

Jimin scrolled through the messages with a shocked expression on his face. Closing his eyes tightly, he mumbled a curse before he reached forward, trying to hold you in his arms. “Y/N, I’m really sorry-”

When he saw how you stepped back from him, he stopped talking and looked at you with his watery eyes.

“No Jimin. An apology is not going to bring back those three years. Your apology won’t be able to bring back those three years my son lived without a father! Just because of your ex wife’s selfishness, my son had to live those three years by asking for his father every single day! Do you know how hard it was?! Do you know how it broke my heart every single time when I saw his sad eyes whenever I told him that you couldn’t be with us!”

“What about you?! You replaced me, Y/N! Do you know how much it broke my heart when I saw you in someone else’s arms?! Must have been easy for you to find a boyfriend as soon as I wasn’t there for you-”

“He isn’t my boyfriend!”

Jimin opened his eyes widely, his breath hitching in his throat. “W-What do you mean?”

“He’s my doctor, Jimin. He’s my best friend. He was always there for me when I needed someone. He reached out for me and offered help. He let me live in his house, he helped me through my pregnancy. He took the role of a father for your own son, Jimin.”

Confused, Jimin looked at you. “S-So, he’s your docto- but.. I-I..”

“Mommy.”

When you heard the voice of your son, you turned around immediately. He was running toward you as he was rubbing his sleepy eyes, his bare feet making cute little sounds as he approached you.

You lifted him up as soon as he opened his little arms for you, his head already lying in the crook of your neck as he hugged you tightly. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

He nuzzled his head even further into your neck and mumbled with a shaky voice. “I saw monsters. They were trying to eat me, Mommy. I’m scared.”

Smiling softly, you stroke his hair and placed a kiss on top of his head. “It was just a nightmare, Hyun-ie. I’m here now, you don’t need to be scared.”

You lifted your head and connected your eyes with Jimin’s sad ones, his tears already rolling down his face. He turned around, crouched down and started sobbing, the sound making Jihyun lift up his head and look at his father with curious eyes.

He wiggled in your arms, telling you that he wanted to be placed down and walked towards Jimin, standing in front of him with sad eyes.

Lifting his tiny hands slowly, he grabbed Jimin’s hands and removed them from his face, making Jimin look up to see his little boy standing in front of him with a frown plastered on his face.

Without saying anything, Jihyun wrapped his arms around his father’s neck, his tiny hands stroking his back softly. “Mommy told me that the sadness will go away when you hug someone. You can hug me as long as you want, Daddy.”

Your eyes opened widely when you heard what your son said. He really was aware that Jimin was his father..

Jimin wrapped his arms tightly around his son’s body as he sobbed harder. Seeing them in that position, your eyes started watering again and you too, started crying.

You watched how Jimin lifted Jihyun up as he held him tightly. Walking towards you, he looked at you with pleading eyes. “Please don’t take him away from me, Y/N.. Please.. I don’t think I can live without him. Please, I’m begging you.. I’m really sorry..”

Averting your eyes from Jimin, you looked at your son. His eyes were closed, his arms tightly wrapped around his father’s neck and a soft smile plastered on his face.

Taking a deep breath, you turned your attention back to Jimin and smiled at him. “I won’t..”

Just before you could realize what was happening, Jimin reached out for your wrist and yanked you to his body. When you felt his lips on yours, your body froze immediately, the feeling sending different emotions through your body.

Just before you could respond to his kiss, you heard a little squeaky voice beside your ear. “Ew, gross!”

Leaning back a little bit, you both turned your heads towards your son who was covering his eyes with his tiny hands.

Removing his hands from his eyes, you looked at him slightly angrily. “Yah, Jihyun-ah, who do you learn those words from?”

Smiling sheepishly, he whispered. “Hoseok Hyung.”

When you heard Jimin laugh, you slapped his arm. “Yah, don’t laugh! He shouldn’t be learning such words at his age!”

Placing a soft kiss on his son’s head, Jimin shrugged as he continued laughing. “Ah, I think I already like that dude named Hoseok. Good job, Jihyun-ie.”

Holding their hands up, they both gave each other a high five which was followed by their heartwarming laughter. You, on the other hand, facepalmed and shook your head from side to side.

Looks like your son has already replaced you for his father.


A/N: And here I am with the final part of Forbidden Love.. Thank you all sooo much for all the love and support you have shown for this series. I really enjoyed writing it thanks to y'all! Also thank you all for the nice messages and asks! I really appreciate them! ♥♥

It took me a while to post this because I had to edit the text…that’s always what holds me up. Full story under the read more

Here we have the presidents son out walking his dog with his 2 guards in tow
Umbra’s after making things awkward with a total stranger who whips around ‘oh em gee your dog got further than any date ive ever had’ and of course Noct is mortified D:
Ignis and Gladio are just like 'Dog?!?! what’s wrong with you??’

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The pros and cons of dating NCT 127

MASTERLIST

Anon: Hey! Love your blog and your writing style! I think this is a bit of a tough request, but I request it to you because I believe you’re the one who can answer it the best. To safe you some time and stress, this is for NCT127 :) What are the pros and cons of dating each member? Like what would be the good things and what would be the difficulties? Good luck on your exams! Love Anon❤️

Thank you for the request! This is literally the fastest I’ve done a request because I literally loved this request! And thank you for thinking that I’m the best for this! I just hope that I’ve answered it correctly and that toy enjoy reading it!

The rest of the members are under the cut because this is a very long post lol. But sorry about the length of Mark and Haechan’s, I was in a rush to finish them so I didn’t get to spell check them!

Please request more units/members if you’re interested!

You can find the pros and cons of dating Ten here!


Taeil:

Originally posted by planettaeil

Pros:

  • Chivalrous - Taeil, being the oldest member, is probably going to know how to treat his girlfriend/boyfriend. He’d be well-mannered and considerate, always making sure to open doors for you, pull your chair out before you sit to eat, having a hand at the palm of your spine to reassure you of his presence. Everything about him seems so traditional and gentlemanly and no doubt he’d be a total sweetheart in a relationship. He’d make you feel like a princess/prince in your relationship, as he’d always be putting you first and making sure to be polite as to not make you uncomfortable. 
  • Stable - This one, again, I think comes with age and experience. He’s not like the younger members who might suddenly decide to change everything in their life and be totally unpredictable. He knows what he wants from life, he knows how to get there and he knows that there’s no point in committing to something pointless. At least in a relationship, you’d know that Taeil was in in for the long-haul; he’s not here for some petty fling or a couple months. He’d want the whole marriage and kids and growing old together kind of thing, and that would provide reassurance and stability in the relationship, knowing he’ll be completely faithful and loving. 
  • Passionate - Although Taeil is slightly more on the introverted side and therefore probably wouldn’t show much skinship or physical affection to his S/O, he’d still be a very passionate person. He’d yearn for the physical affection in private, loving the skin contact and initiate moments. That being said, he’d probably also be quite passionate in bed and have a side to him that most people would not expect. It’d be comforting knowing only you got to see this side of him. The fact that he’d open himself up to you, physically and emotionally, would be a honour.

Cons:

  • Often distant - Being an introvert, would mean communication in a relationship would come harder to Taeil than someone more open. He’d like his quite time and being by himself. He’d be used to not opening up and keeping it to himself. Sometimes he’d subconsciously close himself off you, not speaking or texting you for a few hour or even days at a time. It’d be hard. You’d think he wasn’t interested in you anymore or that you had done something wrong even though you hadn’t. He wouldn’t realise this though, which would always cause a few arguments and complaints from you when he decided to speak to you again. 
  • People-pleaser - Maybe this is just a trait of introverted people, but I think he’s the type to want to please everyone. He doesn’t enemies or grudges held against him. If someone asks him for himself, no doubt he’ll do it. This would be quite irritating in a relationship. At the start of your relationship, you’d find out that he was still close with his exes, which you didn’t really like. It wasn’t because he was still interested them, but because he literally couldn’t bring himself to tell them that he wanted to be left alone. Although you’d love his big, warm heart, sometimes people would take advantage of it and he’d continue people to keep hurting him because he wanted to please them - and that would pain you a lot, to see the love of your life getting hurt time and time again. 
  • Easily provoked - Again, maybe this is just a trait of quiet people, but Taeil, I see as having a short temper. I know this kind of contradicts my point above, but hear me out lol. With people he really loves and cares about, he only wants the best for them. Therefore if they make a decision or do something he disagrees with because he thinks it’s going to backfire on them, he’d get angry very quickly. He’d be snappy and sarcastic, and find it hard to understand why they would make just a “daft” decision. Likewise, if someone criticised his life, he’d get angry. It’d be quite annoying for you as you’d always have to be careful with your choice of words.

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