i messed up on his mouth

procraesthetics  asked:

I wonder what would happen if Dudley grew up in the wizarding world but still as a muggle? like kind of reverse AU where his parents are dead and he has to go to Lily for whatever reason? do you think he would become bitter like Petunia about magic?

Lily remembered her sister, how there had been a time she was curious and delighted about magic, before it slowly sank in that she could look and not touch.

The last thing Petunia had said to Lily before she died was a chilly goodbye, ending a holiday dinner where they’d had a shrieking row in the entryway. Petunia had said freak and Lily had hissed better than this, better than this being my whole fucking world, Tune, do you even see yourself, are you happy–

And now here was Dudley Vernon Dursley fussing himself to sleep as Lily walked the halls of the Godric’s Hollow house. His tiny soft hands with their tiny soft fingernails curled under her chin, the same way Harry always had.

She passed James, who was gently bouncing his way up the hall the opposite way. “I think he’s asleep,” James mouthed over Harry’s tousled head. His hair was the same mess, bent down to peer at his sleeping son.

Lily stopped where she stood, her nephew heavy on her chest, her husband smiling, her sister buried. “James,” she said. “How are we going to do this?”

“Oh,” he said. “Hey. Don’t you cry, you’ll start them off– unless you need to cry, I mean, you go ahead, hey, sweetheart, hey, it’s alright, you just let it out.” He stepped forward, shifting Harry gently to his other shoulder, and pressed his forehead to hers. “We tuck them in, okay, that’s what we do next. Then we go to our own bed, okay, and go to sleep, and when we wake up it’ll be a new day.”

“A new day,” she said. “Another day– James, that’s the– I’m so tired.”

“So let’s sleep. It’ll look better in the morning,” he said. “And if it doesn’t look better this morning, it’ll look better in the next one.”

“You promise?”

“Better than that. I’ll show you. Every day,” he said and kissed her cold forehead.

Dudley had not shown up on the Potters’ doorstep with the milk bottles. Lily had gotten a phone call from the landline she still had installed in Godric’s Hollow, about an accident, and she had gone down to the Muggle police station to identify the bodies.

The cupboard under the stairs was filled with spiders, broomsticks, and the sewing machine Lily’s mother had given her when she married James– that’s all. Dudley slept downstairs. Uncle Remus taught Dudley and Harry to knock out coded messages through the wall their rooms shared.

In the backyard, beside a rickety porch and an ambitious hedge, James taught them to fly– first on little tot brooms where their toes brushed the grass the whole time, then out of the barrels of practice brooms James used for lessons and coaching Little League Quidditch.

When the boys turned ten, five weeks apart, they both got shiny new Nimbuses on Dudley’s birthday (which came first), and a set of enchanted Quidditch balls on Harry’s, to share. The Bludgers were enchanted to be very kind but Dudley spent long afternoons whacking them far afield while Harry chased the Snitch at his back.

Harry had a scar on his forehead, like a jagged bit of lightning. Dudley had no scars– the car crash that had killed his parents hadn’t touched him where he sat strapped into a car seat in the back, chewing on a stuffed dinosaur toy.

Lily did not believe in lying to the children. She was bare years off being a child herself, and spare moments on the far side of a war. When Dudley asked about his parents, she told him there had been an accident. She pulled pictures off the shelf and wrote Petunia’s old university friends for more.

Photographs came by mailman, the images still and unnatural to Dudley’s eye. Every day he’d gone out to play, for years, he’d been waving at the picture near the back door of his aunt and uncle on their wedding day, and they waved back every time.

“She was very clever,” Lily said. “Your mom liked to know everything.”

“And my dad?”

“Vernon liked… cars?” James offered. “That’s the word, right, Lily?”

“I didn’t know him very well,” Lily said. “He liked drills, I think; he worked for a firm that made them, and he talked about that a lot.”

Dudley brushed his thumbs over the dull edges of the photos. When Lily went off to Auror headquarters the next morning for work, James bundled the boys up and took them on an impromptu invisible tour of Grunnings Drill Manufacturing Inc.

They tiptoed down halls and past water coolers and ringing fellytones. They held hands under the Cloak as they dodged around the machines on the manufacturing floor, thumping and pounding and whirring away loudly enough that Harry and Dudley could whisper to each other under the noise. An elevator took them all the way up to the top floor. Harry whistled cheerily and eerily along with the elevator music while the Muggles slowly edged toward the doors and pressed floor buttons lower than they’d originally wanted.

There were boxes and cabinets and folders and desks and staticky monitor screens full of numbers strewn in endless grids. “Merlin’s knuckles,” said Harry, who was seven and a half and rather proud of this expletive. “People can look at this all day, their whole lives, and not die?”

“Work is hard work,” said James.

“At least mum gets to curse things.”

“But my dad liked it?” Dudley said, peering at a white board that was bleeding enthusiastic marker. “There’s a lot of things, here. Maybe he liked knowing things, too.”

When the boys asked about the scar on Harry’s forehead, Lily and James looked at each other. “You know how sometimes we sit with Uncle Remus and talk about a war?” James said. “Or with Ms. Amelia or Mr. Mundungus.”

“Mr. Mundungus is kinda smelly,” Harry said helpfully.

“It’s not nice to say so though,” said James, and Lily made a face.

“Are we raising them to be nice?” Lily said.

“I’m trying,” said James.

“You talk about a war,” said Harry and shrugged. Dudley nodded.

“There was a very bad man, in those days,” said James.

“Voldemort,” said Lily, and James made a face.

“He was so scary a lot of people don’t like to say his name, even now,” said James. “And he was coming after us because we had been fighting against him, in the war. He came to the house and he tried to hurt you, Harry. But it didn’t work. It hurt him instead, and gave you that scar.”

“Is he going to come back?” said Dudley, who was paler than his normal pink.

“No one’s heard of him since then,” said Lily.

“Where were you?” said Harry, because all his life they had been right there.

“Oh,” said Lily, but her throat closed up.

“We were at Dudley’s mum and dad’s funeral,” said James. “Our friend– our friend Sirius was watching you two. The bad man, he came to the house. He. Well. I.”

“Sirius died,” said Lily, one hand squeezing James’s knee and the other reaching down to brush hair off Dudley’s forehead. “You lived, Harry, and Voldemort vanished. And that’s why sometimes people stare in the streets, baby.” James tweaked Harry’s collar absently.

Two days after they had buried Lily’s sister, the Potters had stood together in the first chills of November and buried James’s brother.

Sirius had been burned off the Black family tree years before. Lily and James had talked to his cousin Andromeda, to Remus, and then they had laid him to rest in the Potter family plot. At the wake, they’d told old jokes about squirrel breath, shedding, and man’s best friend. Remus had fallen asleep on their couch and stayed for a month.

It took a two hour row with HR for Lily to get two passes to the Ministry’s Bring Your Kid To Work Day.

“He’s a Muggle.”

“He’s not,” Lily snapped. “He’s family.”

She had to get permission, sign a million forms, and she also had to take the boys in early so that Dudley could get smothered in the spells that would keep the Anti-Muggle wards around the Ministry from activating on him. “If a Muggle stumbles in somehow, they just see a funny-smelling supply cabinet and turn back around,” Lily told Dudley. He nodded and dragged Harry off by the wrist to go look at the fountain.

The windows were pouring sunlight into the underground room– the maintenance workers had just gotten a win on their contract negotiations and had banished the grimy rain-spattered windows of the previous weeks. The light hit the falling water, the golden statues, and the small excitable crowd of Ministry dependents who were gathering in the atrium. Dudley was fishing about in the fountain for Knuts to toss back out again, elbow-deep, and Harry was laughing and coming up with weird wishes to make on them.

Lily hadn’t said son. She’d said family, and that was true enough, wasn’t it? She didn’t say son– she had a son, and she had a nephew, a ward, another child who came to her after nightmares and scraped knees. It was not less, it was just words.

Lily worried about stealing more things from Petunia. Tuney had shrieked at her, in ladies’ restrooms and suburban foyers, had hissed at her in grocery store aisles and family dinners, because Lily got everything. And now Lily had her son.

Lily could just imagine it– could just see Petunia’s face twisting and chin stabbing at the air. You could have anything, and you took my son– my son!

“You left him to me,” Lily whispered, but that wasn’t quite right. “You left,” she whispered, and that wasn’t quite right either, so she strode off toward the fountain to ask the boys if they wanted to go see the Auror spellwork ranges. Dudley’s sodden shirt sleeves dripped all over the Ministry floors. Harry’s hair fell down into his eyes and they both grinned bright enough to rival the spelled sunlight.

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A Personal Connection

Author: @sebastianstandoffish

Pairing: Reader (She/Her) x Bucky Barnes

Summary: Bucky may or may not have a crush on Steve’s PA.

Word Count: 5,551

Category: Fluff/Very light smut 

Warnings: Cursing (per usual), some smutty stuff but not all that explicit (STILL 18+), etc.

A/N: A whole month! Time really flies. This was going to include more explicit smut scenes in it, but, after some deliberation, I’ve decided to put that into a separate work. It’ll be a continuation of this with actual smut in it. Hopefully the separation doesn’t disrupt too much and also allows readers that a) don’t enjoy reading explicit smut and b) don’t connect with an explicitly biologically female reader can still enjoy the story. Thank you for reading and understanding!


She had started out as a way to appease Tony, who had insisted that Steve needed a personal assistant. Stark blathered on and on about how much his life had changed after getting a PA and how maybe a little help with coordinating and the day to day tasks would “remove the stick from that star-spangled ass.”  

So, Steve had caved and asked Pepper to set up a couple of interviews with people interested in the job. After a parade of ecstatic fans and sexual propositions, he was just about ready to give up.

Instead, at the end of a very long day of being ogled and fawned over, (Y/N) had appeared with a rose-scented resume and two popsicles she’d bought from the street-vendor outside the Tower. Her smile was sweet and her eyes kind, a little wide at the opulence of the Stark equipment, but not predatory like the previous applicants.

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DOCTOR DREAMY | PT.2 [M]

pt1 | pt2 | (ongoing)

pairing: jimin x reader

genre: smut, fluff, slight angst + expecting parents au

word count: 11,035

request: sperm donor ex-boyfriend jimin

description: Okay, maybe in hindsight asking your ex-boyfriend, who you never really got over, to be your sperm-donor wasn’t the brightest of ideas.

cr. 


six years prior.

“Do you wanna have kids one day?”

Jimin tilted his head as if to ponder the idea before tugging you across the bed until you were leaning against his chest, curious eyes catching your own.  

“Sure, I mean one day. One day, far, far away,” He said, pointing his finger off into the distance jokingly.

You laughed, hand skimming along the back of his neck. “Yeah, me too.”

“Any particular reason why you’re asking?” He said as he began playing with the strands of your hair.

“I dunno,” You shrugged. “We’ve been dating for a long time, just thought that it’s something we should know about each other.”

Jimin nodded, “No, you’re right. It’s kind of something you should figure out before things get too far in the relationship… Guess we waited a bit too long, but we’re on the same page, so that’s good,” He smiled, leaning down to place a short peck against your lips.

“So that means you think that information will be put to good use one day?” You asked, quirking your brow to insinuate.

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Sometimes Lance will just start talking to Keith out of he blue. He’ll ramble on and on about his family and what messes he’d get into with his siblings. And Keith will just sit there and listen absentmindedly cleaning his Bayard or knife but he’s listening to every word and Lance just stops because he realizes he’s been talking for an hour straight and most kids and adults would say he talked too much they would find it annoying and Lance learned how to just keep his mouth shut most days so he wouldn’t be as annoying. And Keith doesn’t seem to be paying much attention anyway so he gets up to leave and,

“Where are you going?”

“Um, I thought you didn’t want to hear anymore, I mean it’s ben an hour and…”

“But you were just getting to the part where your little sister put her pet scorpion in that asshole Jake’s lunchbox I wanna know what happens later.”

And Lance can’t help but grin as he finishes his story and starts on others and it just becomes their own little routine and Keith remembers to remind him where the last story left off so Lance will continue from there and overall it’s just two boys enjoying each other’s company.

Guys My Age (2)

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Words: 4K

Warnings: SMUT. NSFW gifs. 

Summary: You’re playing truth or dare with the Avengers when Nat asks you when the last time you got laid was  and Sam dares you to pick a song that perfectly grasps why you haven’t had sex in so long.

A/N: Enjoy the smot. And please use protection people. Better safe than surprised. I think this is dirtiest fic I’ve written so far.

Permanent tag list: @meganlane84

Part 1

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Fueled By Desire (NSFW 18+)

A/N: So, today has been a crazy day but I started writing this last night and wanted to post it tonight ! So I wrote it in virtually 24 hours, so I hope it didn’t suck to bad. I planned on posting it earlier but I had a bit of writers block. This a Theo smut that you can thank @hardladyheart for. She’s filled my mind with dirty Theo thoughts. (Fun fact’ this gif is actually mine and my blog name used to be twfanfic-af)

Thanks to: @writing-obrien and @hardladyheart for editing and proof reading.

Warning: SMUTTTTT

Word Count: 2803

Originally posted by stilinski-jpeg

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the spy au that @philosophium ordered !!


Andrew slips through a slit in the crowd, brushing through the sleek trains of expensive gowns, rich wool suits jackets catching on his own. He’s on his second flute of champagne, and the tartness keeps him focused. His attention is on the flavour and the rim of the glass and the warp of faces through it. His earpiece crackles and whispers.

He can see his mark on the opposite side of the room, surrounded by servers and liars and pretty things. One of them is all three, Andrew can tell: a waiter’s vest, a seam of over-applied foundation, and bright blue eyes.

He’s distracting, flighty, a rubber band pulled all the way back. He looks like the memory of a case file, and a name occurs to Andrew one second before Kevin hisses it into his ear.

“It’s fuckin’ Charlie Pilot. Don’t engage, Minyard, we’re not here for him.”

Andrew doesn’t make any effort to reply, just takes another pull of champagne. He’s not really watching the troupes of entertainers or the clockwork security or the velvet and silk blooming under bowing chandeliers. He’s not even watching the man he’s either going to rob or kill, who’s laughing and weedy, red in the face from the alcohol. He’s stuck on Pilot –  next to his target, holding a heavily stocked tray of appetizers, his expression pleasant and empty.

He’ll be an irritant to what should be a straightforward plan, if he keeps hovering. Andrew takes a loaded step forward and the voice in his ear complains.

“Don’t even think about moving in until Pilot leaves. He’s probably doing reconnaissance for Matt. I bet he doesn’t even know about the file.”

Andrew watches Pilot’s face tick, the way he blinks like he’s on a timer, the way he’s worrying the inside of his cheek with his teeth.

“I bet he does,” Andrew murmurs, and he drains the last of the champagne. He plucks his tie pin away from the fabric and drops it in the empty glass, leaving it on a passing tray.

“What— what the fuck Minyard, we’ve lost visuals. Do you hear me? Andrew? Andrew?”

Andrew weaves through the rest of the golden crowd, ignoring the buzz of Kevin’s reprimands in his ear. He finds a new spot on the outskirts of the crowd where Pilot has installed himself.

“Do you know how fucking expensive those cameras are? You’re such a piece of shit operative,” Kevin says. “When you inevitably come back without the intelligence and without our equipment, it’s costing us to keep you around, do you realize that?”

Andrew’s more focused on the way Pilot’s shoulders are turning to face him, the slim line of his tailored pants, that eyelash-thick smudge of un-blended make up.

“Shrimp?” Pilot offers, swaying the tray in his direction.

“No,” Andrew says, but he stays uncomfortably near, feeling along the edges of his boundaries without finding any seams. Pilot’s composure is still and reserved as a frost-ravaged garden.

“Have a good evening then,” Pilot says graciously, turning back towards the host that Andrew should be sizing up but hasn’t even looked at. He glances at him for a sliver of a moment, finds himself uninterested, and looks back at Pilot.

Andrew catches him suddenly by the arm, but relaxes his grip just as quickly, caught off guard by his own impulsivity. His own disguise is just an invitation and sun bleached hair; he isn’t playing a character like Pilot is. He’s neutral for a living, but Pilot is a new weight on his scale, unbalancing him so that he can’t quite settle at zero.

When their eyes meet, the polite, curious waiter snips out of existence. Charlie Pilot stares at Andrew, with eyes like the bluest part of a fire.

“There’s a conflict of interest,” he tells Andrew calmly. “And your interest will lose.”

“I’m not interested in anything,” Andrew says broadly.

“Hm,” Pilot says, unconvinced. “You’re lying.”

“I don’t lie,” Andrew says. He’s always saying it; it’s a novelty that employers enjoy and enemies challenge, amused.

Pilot raises his jaw, mouth twitching. “No, you wouldn’t, would you.” His eyes flicker to the side of Andrew’s face, where Kevin is breathing furiously through his earpiece, then down to the grip he still has on his forearm. He lowers his tray down until the rough edge is pressed to the root of Andrew’s hand threateningly. “You’ll want to let me go, Andrew, or you’re going to end up needing a longer armband.”

Andrew feels genuine surprise squeeze his fingers around Pilot’s wrist. He hadn’t noticed the black fabric extending a whiff beyond his crisp white sleeve. He lets go, and Pilot tucks his shoulders back, satisfied. His hair is too dark to match his freckles, Andrew notes quietly. It is, perhaps, what the make up was meant to cover up.

“You are not going to win, Charlie,” Andrew says. “We’re the more capable team.”

Pilot smiles indulgently. “‘Charlie’,” he repeats, mouth curling around the name. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been Charlie Pilot.” He jostles his tray from one hand to another, and loosens his collar with his freed hand. “And I don’t think you understand how much farther ahead we are than you. If you’re looking for information, we already have it. If you’re trying to find the connections this place has to the Yakuza, we’re the ones undoing them.”

“Who’s we? I don’t remember seeing anything about loyalty in your case file. You’re just a runner.”

Pilot looks briefly bothered by this, and he juts his chin again. “I’m loyal to whoever’s doing the work that needs to be done.”

“That doesn’t answer my question. Who are you?”

He looks down, at Andrew’s empty hands, at the hip where he’s hiding his gun. His expression is warped and sad when he looks up, like the real filling in his strange costume is finally oozing out.

“You can call me Neil,” he says, and drops the whole tray of food so that it clatters and rolls into the host’s feet. There are gasps and yelps, partygoers dodging and stooping to catch the runaway platter. Andrew looks impulsively down to track its progress, and when he looks sharply back up into the knot of activity, Neil is gone. Of course he is.

He doesn’t have time to think about where he might have disappeared to, just steps neatly into the opportunity that’s been afforded to him. He uses the distraction as a doorway directly into the offices behind the coddled host.

Kevin is asking repeatedly for updates, and Andrew fishes the earpiece out and tucks it into his breast pocket. He likes to be alone for this part, when the most important door closes behind him and everything makes as much sense as a ticking clock.

He keeps thinking of Neil’s reaction to ‘runner’, of the vulnerability trussed up in his persona. He finds himself sick to his stomach wanting to know what his real hair colour is.

He tries every door in the polished row of them, finding all of them locked. He picks the lock on the door farthest from the burble of the ballroom behind him, and cracks into what looks like a room built for business arrangements and drinking. There’s a snifter next to a half dozen tumblers on a cart along the wall, and extensive cabinets under the desk.

He feels his way along the underside of the desk, and opens each drawer, idealistically left unlocked and unprotected. He finds useless information and shady information and heaps of anonymous, unlabeled tapes.

He finds the safe in the floor, facing up patiently under a wingback chair and a panel of floorboard. He stoops so that he’s face to face with it, shrugs his jacket off like a dead skin onto the floor, and puts the heart of a stethoscope to the face of the safe.

He’s sweating, spread out surreptitiously on the floor, but the safe is flimsy. It cracks in under an hour, the party wilting two rooms over, pressure taking him by the hair. Andrew flicks the door open impatiently, unwinding the stethoscope from around his neck.

It’s filled top to bottom with paper, and he reaches for the first file, carding his fingers through the spill of sheets.

Got you, it says. Over and over again, in unassuming little typescript. And on the next page, got you.

Andrew’s fingers flex. The next file is the same, and the next. A million taunting, twirling repetitions: got you. Got this. Got here first.

The safe was already cracked. The list of names was already stolen. Neil’s face winks and swarms when he closes his eyes, furious. If you’re looking for information, we already have it.

He roots around for the bud in his pocket and pops it back into his ear. He leans back, splayed away from the spill from the safe, the stacks of failure. He enunciates clearly into the microphone sewn into his collar.

“We have to find Neil.”

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Humans are space orcs #317

So imagine an alien race with only one gender or who have like really different gender characteristics or something.

First, they have trouble understanding that there are genders, because we look really similar regardless of gender, two arms, two legs, no colour scheme to separate “male” from “female” exclusively.

Second, no matter how many times some humans say there are only two genders, others say there are many. It seems, the aliens conclude, that all humans have their own way of defining how many genders there are, and how these are allowed to interact.

Third, the aliens soon discover that the humans get really awkward if you bring up mating (“fucking”) with another human around. And as we all know, humans are space orcs and nothing seem to faze them, so having found this small weakness, the aliens likes to exploit it and mess with the humans as often as they can.

***

“Officer Toft?”

“Ensign?”

“Are you and officer Alvarez a couple?”

The humans looked at each other. Their faces scrunched together and assumed a colour resembling the mess hall walls. The ensign could barely contain its delight.

“We are both men, ensign. Just because we are the only two humans…”

The human trailed off, blushing harder by the minute and refusing to meet the eyes of its fellow. The other human looked surprised and then a small smile erupted on its face. It reached out its hand and placed it carefully on top of the others knee.

“We are not a couple, but I understand your confusion,” it proclaimed. “I mean, we are usually keeping pretty close.”

The ensign nodded both antennae slowly, not sure where this was going.

The human who had spoke last moved closer to the other. The ensign immediately got a bad feeling. The human put its darker hand on the paler ones jaw and smiled sweetly before leaning in.

The ensign felt all vital fluids drain his extremities. Meeting mouths was highly inappropriate, not to mention unsanitary! Gagging, the alien fled.

The ensign leaned against the wall, weak legged, as its sensitive antennae picked up the scattered conversation between the humans.

“Wha…good for?”

“To mess… mess with them.”

“Oh.”

“Also… anted to kiss you… really long time.”

More noices and the ensign moved away. There was certainly a downside to teasing the humans.

accidentally?

Based on this prompt I said I’d fill a few days ago:

boss: “know why I called you in here?”
me: “because I accidentally sent you a dick pic”
boss: “accidentally?”

yup.

(on ao3)

“You need to stop pining after people you haven’t even spoken to,” Lydia says one day, probably because Derek—er, Mr. Hale, their boss—has just stepped through the front door of the cafe where they’re having lunch, and Stiles has trailed off mid-word to watch him walk up to the counter. In Stiles’ defense, he’s never seen Mr. Hale outside of the office before, let alone Mr. Hale wearing a leather jacket over his dress shirt. God, and Stiles thought the tailored suits were bad enough…

Anyway.

“Uh, I have too spoken to him,” Stiles says indignantly, tearing his eyes away from Derek’s broad back across the room. “One day I was coming out of the break room and I almost walked right into him and he said, ‘Excuse me,’ so then I said, ‘Oops,’ and he smiled at me. Kind of. A little bit. I mean, I interpreted it as a smile. There was some prolonged eye contact.”

Lydia abruptly stops stirring her fat-free latte to stare at him—one of those Oh god, it’s worse than I thought kind of looks. “That’s it?”

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Bts reaction to their s/o giving them hickeys

Concept: You left lots of hickeys and bite marks all over their shoulders and neck, but they left much more on you and yet dare to complain

Seokjin: Jin would act all dramatic trying to tease you. 

“Jagi, I can’t believe what you did to me! Jungkook noticed the hickeys from yesterday and made fun of it!” You get grumpy.

 “Oh no, one little hickey was seen! Did you already forget how my body looks like? It’s about ten times worse and I had a meeting today!” He starts laughing as you show him your marked body.

 “Someone did a good job yesterday, I’m sorry for complaining”

Originally posted by bwiseoks

Namjoon: Namjoon would be really cocky. “Babygirl, I think I need to punish you. Look at my body!” He takes off his shirt. You look at him skeptically.

 “What? What’s this look suppose to mean?” You take off your shirt too, exposing your body which is covered with love marks and bites.

 “Did you forget this?” Namjoon starts smirking while walking up to you.

 “Don’t be so bratty, you’re not a celebrity. It’s not as important to you as for me. I think you indeed need to be punished.” 

Originally posted by aestheticpinkjoon

Yoongi: Yoongi would most likely stay calm. “Don’t you think you took it too far yesterday?” He’d say looking at you.

“Excuse me but take a look at your work!” You show him your body and he starts smiling proudly as if he just won an award.

“The marks of my lips suit you. Even though I didn’t plan them to be so big…” He’d kiss you softly.

Originally posted by bangtannoonas

Hoseok: Hobi would be totally proud of the hickeys you gave him. He’d wear a low cut shirt on purpose so everyone could see your masterpiece. It would be a bit embarrassing for him to admit though so he’d blame you playfully.

“I had no choice, I just couldn’t resist and push you away.” You’d start laughing.

“Are you for real? You were the one who wouldn’t stop sucking.” You’d joke and you two were laughing for almost an hour.

Originally posted by myloveseokjin

Taehyung: Tae would kinda be like Hobi in this point except that he would remind you every thirty seconds about your ‘unthoughtful act’ 

“My fans, the media, the members. Everyone could find out!” 

“Then why aren’t you wearing a turtleneck or something? I got it worse and I’m not exposing myself like you so stop complaining.” You’d tease him to fresh up his memory.

“Jagi!!! You liked it yesterday, remember!” 

“You liked it too, Tae. Are we done? I’m not gonna argue about it” He’d hug you and give you a kiss on the cheek. 

“Okay, I’m sorry.”

Originally posted by mvssmedia

Jimin: “Wow you’re such an animal baby!” He’d say looking in the mirror admiring the hickeys. He’d try to put make up all over his neck and shoulders but it turns out a mess. 

“Watch your mouth, tiger. I can’t even wear a skirt cause my legs are full of hickeys too.” 

Jimin would smile and give you a kiss as an apology.

Originally posted by itschiminie

Jungkook: “They’re gonna kill me.” Jungkook would also try to cover the hickey up. 

“Who is gonna kill you?” You’d ask. His face’d turn jungshook real quick.

“Don’t you remember that one time at the airport when fancams took pictures of my hickey and everyone got crazy?” 

“I have dinner with my parents tonight, and considering that I have much more hickeys than you and the strictness of my parents I think I got it worse.” You complained.

“Oh my god I’m so sorry I did this to you!” 

Originally posted by officialwookkibby


Just did the reaction again cause my laptop crashed. I hope you like it peeps, tell me your opinion on this one!

Mouth o’ Mine

Harry X Reader: Angst, smut

In which Harry’s no good with his words but he sure is good with his mouth.

Request? Yes:

some harry face sitting action maybe?

Author’s note: This is a continuation of “Mess o’ Mine.” I would suggest reading that first, if you haven’t already. I thought this was gonna be the end but then I fucked up so… there’s also a part 3. Hope you enjoy! I did!

Part 1: Mess o’ Mine // Part 3: Mind o’ Mine


You’ve been running through the events that have occurred, confused at the escalation and the outcome. No issues have been resolved, and there wasn’t really a conversation or discussion. You don’t know any more than you did when you heard Harry singing your poems. Has he used your writing in more songs on his album?  Has he read your whole journal? God, you hope not. One poem is bad enough.

Harry hasn’t been around, hasn’t tried calling for the two weeks since he showed up on your doorstep. You’ve flipped the channel whenever he shows up on your television and scrolled at record speed when he’s popped up on your social media feeds. Maybe you should feel relieved and cleansed of his toxicity, but you don’t. Instead, you feel a little broken, like your stomach is splintering into pieces, and your mind still feels split open. Not only that, but you can smell him, feel the weight of him on top of you, taste the foreign flavor of his mouth. This isn’t what you need.

A whole other wave of confusion has rolled over you in terms of your relationship with Harry, if there still is one. The two of you have crossed a line without any prior thought or contemplation. Years upon years of friendship have been threatened, and you’re not even sure how it happened. Why did he kiss you? How did the two of you end up in bed, naked between the sheets? If you were confused about it before, trying to figure things out has only worsened your introspection.

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our little family pt.3 | park jimin

Originally posted by minblush

Pairing: Father! Jimin + Reader

Genre: Fluff/Angst + parent au

Word Count: 2.9k

Summary: You were just a pre-school teacher, a simple dream that came true as you always adored children. But what you didn’t know, was how one child and her very special father would change you dream forever.

Parts: 1 2 3

Reader’s POV

“Ms.L/N!!”

Looking up from your phone, your lips tilted up into a warm smile as you saw a familiar face enter the room, as she slightly skipped, swinging her lunchbox in one hand.

“Jieun-ah!!” you cheered as you made your way to her, pinching her cheeks softly as you cooed, “How’s my little girl been?”

Giving you a big smile, one that reached all the way up to her round eyes, she gave you a thumbs up and grinned, “I’m great! Daddy and I even got another dog for Charlie so that he wouldn’t be alone anymore.”

Laughing slightly, you remarked, “Well isn’t that sweet of you to do!! By the way, where’s your Daddy, did he not drop you off–?”

“Her Daddy is right here.” a voice said teasingly as you looked up, scoffing a little as Jimin winked at you playfully. Your eyes quickly wandered to the cut on his lip, which to your surprise had seemed to be healing, making you sigh in relief.

Getting up, you patted Jieun’s back and motioned her to go and put away her stuff in her cubby before walking up to Jimin. Motioning to his face, you said softly, “You’re looking better. How did you manage to explain this to Jieun?”

Jimin chuckled as his eyes fell on his little girl who was humming along to a random tune as she walked around the classroom, mindlessly.

“I told her that when she was asleep, her dad went on a mission to save a princess from an evil man, and then got hurt in the fight.” he said as his eyes flickered back to you, making you flush lightly at his words that made your heart flutter.

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When Sherlock is too pretty

Can you imagine the self restraint that John has to show when Sherlock walks around being god-damn pretty in his posh suits with the straining buttons on his shirt and the long graceful line of his neck and that ridiculously pouty mouth, I mean phew it’s just illegal.

Well what if one day Sherlock just looks too fucking good and John’s mouth starts talking before he can censor himself and he says way too fiercely:

“I want to fucking mess you up.”

There’s an awkward silence. John goes red, Sherlock looks alarmed. John is never ever coming back from this. 

“Go for it,” says Sherlock.

And that’s how they ended up having smutty, smutty sex, guys. 


Hiya, I’m Phoebe ;) I started this Sherlock blog very recently, and would love to make more friends!! If you fancy you could check out my blog or my AO3. Ta.

Teen Dad

Teen Dad

Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings: none I think…

A/N: First of all, be safe kids, remember, abstinence. Anyways, let’s say Peter is in Senior year here. I made him a little older because, I didn’t want to make him a dad at 15 (: And, I didn’t really end it end it, but you guys could let me know if you want a Part two on how it ends, if not, it ends like this.


You paced back and forth.

How were you going to tell your boyfriend, Peter, that he, a 17 year old boy, is going to be a dad?

You two are currently in the middle of Senior year. Almost about to start the rest of your lives.

I guess it’s going to start sooner.

There’s already so many things going on in Peter’s life, you don’t want to add any more complications.

He’s living a double life as Peter Parker, a normal teen in high school, and Spider-Man, your friendly neighborhood spider-man.

You thought Hannah Montana had it hard, but Peter’s Aunt May doesn’t even know his secret.

Oh my gosh, Aunt May.

What are you going to do about Aunt May?

She’ll kill Peter! Heck, she’ll kill you too!

So many thoughts ran through your mind, you felt– you felt like– you felt like you would–

Faint.

Bam! You fell dramatically, almost in slow motion, but not quite, on the floor. Unconscious.


Your eyes fluttered open.

“What time is it?”

You looked around. It seems dark already, “I guess Peter’s not home yet.”

You get up, walking to the kitchen to get a glass of water.

You can see Aunt May from the living room. She’s reading a book, unaware that you’re in the kitchen.

You grab a glass and almost dropped it. You were still a bit dizzy.

“(Y/n)? Did you wake up from your little nap?”

“Huh?– Oh– I didn’t take a nap?”

“Really? I saw you asleep on the floor of Peter’s room?”

You shake your head ‘no’, she just shrugs it off and goes back to her book.

After drinking some water and eating some crackers, you go back to wait for Peter in his room.

You lay on the bed, hugging the pillow tight to your chest. The scent of Peter making you smile.

“I really have to tell him today,” you said to yourself. It’s been a few weeks since you found out and so far the only one that knows is your mom, who I should say, is very supportive and excited to have a grandchild. Your family was always chill with anything, so you weren’t afraid of them. You were afraid of what Peter might say, and what Aunt May would do. Aunt May is the sweetest but, when it comes to Peter’s safety, well, let’s just say her mom’s instinct kicks in.

You though for quite a while, it’s now or never.

You got up, throwing the pillow into his bunk. You were on your way to confess to Aunt May.

Aunt May has always loved you, ever since you and Peter got together at homecoming. You know, before he stormed off and left you. But before that, we were best friends. So of course, you knew it was for Spider-Man duties that he left you in a middle of a dance.

“Hey, Aunt May. Ca– Can I talk t– to you?”

She looks up at you and smile, putting her book down on the coffee table, she took her legs off of the couch patting it for you to sit down.

“What’s up honey bun?”

“Can– can you keep a secret? As of right now at least..”

“Sure thing. What is it?”

“Pr– omise not to get mad?”

She smiles, holding out her pinky.

You let out a sigh, hooking your pinky onto hers.

“Promise,” she says.

You clear your throat, taking your phone case off of your phone. There was three small pieces of the same sized paper inside.

You grab one of them and hand it to her.

“Here, I– I think you should have this.”

She lets out an airy laugh, “what is it?”

You tilt your head up, motioning for her to flip the white paper over.

She does it, speechless when she sees the image.

“Congratulations, o– on being a Grandma…”

She smiles, slowly bringing her hand up to cover her mouth. Muffling a sob.

Tears formed in her eyes as she looks at you.

“You’re not mad, right?”

She takes her hand off of her mouth, looking at you, laughing with joy.

“Oh my– (Y/n)! I– I– don’t know what to say!”

You can hear the joy in her voice. You let out a sigh of relief, knowing she’s happy for you and not mad whatsoever.

“Does Peter know?”

You were about to answer her question but is interrupted.

“Does Peter know what?”

You both turn to the door, Peter staring at you two crying messes confusedly.

“What’s going on?”

Aunt May, with tears down her face, walks up to Peter, grabbing his face and giving him a big kiss on the cheek.

“I’m happy for you,” she turns to look at you, “for the both of you.”

Then, she was gone, off to her room.

Peter watch her leave, then looks at you confused.

“What the heck is going on?”

“H– how was the training?” You said the last part quietly, Aunt May thought he was at a study group with some classmates.

“It was alright, now what’s going on?”

“Let’s go to your room. Go change and stuff first. You stink.”

Peter lets out an amused laugh, hugging you, “here, now you’ll smell as stinky as me!”

“UGh, Gross!”


After Peter got out of the shower, he walked up to you, wearing nothing but a towel, while drying his hair with another towel.

You lay sideways on the bed, “hurry up and put some clothes on, I’m gonna end up falling asleep before I even get to tell you what happened.”

By knowing how fast you can fall asleep, Peter puts his pajamas on in a snap.

You felt more confident in telling Peter after you told Aunt May, since she was extra super duper happy about it. You thought Peter would be happier than her, if it was even possible.

He jumps on the bed, on top of you. You grunt once his body hits you.

“Owwwww, get off! You’re too heavy,” you laugh.

He shifts to a more comfortable position next to you, hugging you close.

“Wait, I should take a video of this,” you say standing up, getting out of his hold. Peter lays there sad and confused.

“I didn’t get to take a video when I told Aunt May.” you ran around, getting your camera and tripod.

“Told her what?”

“Be patient, hold on,” you say, struggling to put your camera on the new tripod you bought.

You click the recording button once you got it to a good angle, jumping back on the bed, sitting in front of Peter.

“Wh– what’s going on? Why are you filming this?”

“You know,” you said, ignoring him and saying what’s currently on your mind, “if someone was to walk in, this would totally be embarrassing.”

He laughs, but you were serious.

Grabbing your phone again, doing the same thing you did before, you turn to Pete.

“This is what I showed Aunt May.”

He grabs the small sheet of paper.

At first he doesn’t know what it is but he soon gets it.

“Wait… are you?”

You nod, pointing to the small circle on the picture.

“See that little Pea? That smol little bean?”

“Ye– yeah?”

“That’s our little baby.”

“You mean? You’re pregnant? Wi– with my child?”

You smack his shoulder, “Duh! Who else’s baby would it be!”

“I know I know, I’m just–.”

Before he could say anything else, the door burst open.

“Did you tell him!”

Aunt May stood at the door, jumping up and down.

“Yes May, I told him.”

“Are you as excited as I am?” Aunt May tells Peter.

“You’re okay with it?”

“Heck yeah! I’m gonna be a Grandma!”

“That is so weird for you to say,” Peter says, calmly.

You turn to him, with a sad voice you say, “are you not excited? Or happy? I thought you would be…”

Tears began to form in your eyes as Peter looks at you with a worried expression.

May’s enthusiasm disappeared as well, she crossed her arms over her chest as she look at Peter, waiting for him to say something.

“I– I’m just worried. That’s all.”

“About what?”

“About a baby. We’re on our last year of high school. We have more important things to do. I still have that Stark Internship after all.”

Movie Night

A Bucky Barnes One-Shot

Character Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Reader

Word Count: 2246 (I got a little carried away!)

Warnings: NSFW! 18+. Swearing, smut, fingering, unprotected sex (wrap it up!)

Request: Anon: “Hello there! First I just wanted to tell you that your writing was amazing for the 100 kinks for Bucky! I loved your stories so much and wanted to ask if you were taking requests at all? If you are, can you please write a one shot about Bucky lusting after the reader? Maybe shes an assistant at the compound or something like that. If not, it’s all good, but I think you should write because your amazing at it! Smut if you want!”

A/N: Here your go nonnie! Sorry this took so long and I hope you like it!


You were wearing it again. That damn black pencil skirt that formed perfectly to every curve. The black heels you had on made your legs look fucking fantastic. Bucky knew he should stop staring, but you always caught his attention when you both shared a room together. He watched as you smiled easily at everyone, how you flipped your hair over your shoulder when you would talk and fiddled with the buttons on your shirt when you were lost in thought. He nearly bit back a groan as you bent over the table to pass out the file folders you were holding. The glimpse of white lace underneath your white button down about ended him.

“Buck, you’re being obvious,” Steve said while punching Bucky’s shoulder and sitting down next to him. Bucky looked up to also see Sam shooting him a knowing smile from across the table.

“I don’t know what the hell you are talking about,” he said while trying to focus on anything other than the way that skirt hugged your ass. When you walked behind his chair, he caught a whiff of your perfume and it instantly made his dick hard. Bucky adjusted himself in his jeans and grabbed the file folder in front of him in hopes of getting his brain on the task at hand instead of what you would look like naked underneath him.
____________

You were walking down the hallway back to your office after the meeting was over. You needed to get inside your personal space. The way Bucky looked at you earlier had left your skin tingling. That man was going to be the death of you. You felt like your brain fizzled out whenever you were near him. His quiet demeanor made it impossible to read him but his stare said enough. You couldn’t decide if you wanted to strangle him or kiss him. Oh, who were you kidding, you wanted to feel those lips on your body.

Right after that thought took root in your head, you turned a corner and slammed right into a solid chest, causing you to drop your papers and folders. You looked up after regaining your balance and were mortified to see Bucky staring down at you, his brow creased. You felt your cheeks grow hot before kneeling to pick up your papers.

“I’m so sorry Mr. Barnes. I wasn’t paying attention,” you said to his feet. You were too embarrassed to look at his face after the thoughts you were having about him. A pair of hands appeared in your line of sight. You were startled by his metal one, he normally had a black glove covering it. He was organizing the folders when you chanced a glance up at him. His hair was falling in his face and the black t-shirt he had on was stretched across his broad shoulders.

“Bucky. Please call me Bucky.” He said while straitening back up. You clutched the files to your chest and stood awkwardly in front of him. You almost jumped out of your skin when he reached out and brushed a piece of your hair away from your face. The shock must have clearly read on your face because he snatched his hand back quick.  

“Well, I’m sorry again, and thank you for helping me.” You moved to walk around him. His metal arm shot out and stilled you by placing his hand on your arm. You looked up at him with confusion.

“Doll, it was an accident, you don’t have to apologize.” He looked down at where his hand was touching you. “Would you like to stick around for movie night tonight? It is Tony’s night to pick so I don’t know if it will be good but…” he let his sentence trail off.

You were so shocked that he was even talking to you that you realized your mouth was hanging open. You closed it and mentally shook yourself out of the dazed state you were in. “Are assistants allowed to join the Avengers at movie night?” You joked. Bucky smiled and you thought for sure your heart was going to stop. God, he was gorgeous.

“I think you passed up the assistant title long ago,” Bucky said while rubbing his thumb on your arm. “You can sit next to me. I’ll even share my blanket with you.”

Wait a minute, was he hitting on you? You were sure if you didn’t distance yourself from him soon, you were going to melt into a puddle on the floor. “Yea, that sounds great Bucky. I’ll see you there.” You gave him a smile before hurrying the rest of the way to your office.

Bucky watched you until you shut the door behind you. He smiled to himself. You were attracted to him just as much as he was to you. This was good to know. After having a talk with Steve earlier, he had decided to make his move. With any luck, you two wouldn’t be watching too much of the movie tonight.

___________

You were nervous. You had asked Wanda what time to be in the screening room. When you told her that Bucky had invited you, she was shocked but then grinned and winked at you. You smiled to yourself as you looked up at the clock. Fifteen minutes to go. You grabbed your gym bag from underneath your desk and pulled out a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. You stepped out of your shoes while unbuttoning your shirt. You pulled it off and bent to take your skirt off. As you were folding the garments, you heard the door click open. Before you could cover yourself, Bucky’s head popped in.

“Hey doll, I thought I would…” Whatever he was saying, died on his lips as he came in and saw you standing there in your bra and panties. You thought he was just going to back out, but he didn’t. He slowly closed the door and leaned back against it. Your face had to be ten shades of red as you were frozen in place. Bucky’s hot stare was setting your skin on fire. He crossed his arms over his chest and licked his lips. Your eyes darted to the floor, but didn’t miss the bulge his cock was making in his sweats.

“Do you want me to leave, doll face?” He asked in a husky voice. You looked back up at him and saw the red color in his cheeks and the way his breathing had changed. Did you want him to leave? You hadn’t had sex in a while and the man standing across from you looked like he was made for sin.

No, you didn’t want him to leave. Instead of voicing your answer, you reached behind you and unclasped your bra. You held the cups to your chest for a second before letting it fall down your arms. Bucky groaned so low that it almost sounded like a growl. He practically stalked over to you. His flesh hand cupped your jaw and his metal arm curled around your waist. The coolness against your hot skin make goosebumps rise.

“Are you sure about this? Because in about ten seconds, I’m not going to be much of a gentleman.” His words made your shiver and wetness to pool between your thighs. The look he was giving you with his lust blown eyes and his breath coming in short pants was making your anxious.

“Bucky yes, I’m sure. Now kiss me.” You said before wrapping your arms around his back and crashing your lips against his. Bucky instantly commanded the kiss. He ran his tongue along the seam of your lips, asking for entrance. You opened them and tangled your tongue with his. It was consuming; teeth clanking, lip biting, sighs and moans. You felt drugged as his metal hand made its way to your ass, grabbing a handful, pressing your body into his. His other hand was buried in the hair at the nape of your neck. Your hands found their way inside the back of his shirt and roamed over the warm muscles. He lifted his lips from yours to trail soft kisses along your cheek and landing on the pulse point below your ear. You leaned your head to the side with a moan. His teeth nipped the tender spot, causing you to gasp and score his back with your fingernails.

“Kitten has claws,” he murmured against your collarbone. Your sigh turned into a moan when you felt his tongue swipe across your nipple. He brought his flesh hand down to flick over your nipple as his tongue and lips continued their torture. This man was turning your bones to jelly. You pulled on his shoulders to bring him back up.

“Too many clothes,” you whispered as you stripped his shirt off. He chuckled at your urgency. You put your hands in the waistband of his pants and pushed them down his legs. His cock sprang free between the two of you and you nearly wept. It was beautiful. Long, thick and dripping precum. Bucky didn’t give you enough time to admire it before he swooped you into his arms. He walked across the room and laid you on the couch. He propped a pillow beneath your head and kneeled between your thighs. He ran his hands down your body before pulling your panties down your legs. After tossing them to the floor, he stopped and stared at you. His eyes took in every detail they could. He settled his hands on your thighs and spread them further apart, his eyes fixed to your pussy.

“God damn doll, look how wet you are,” he said as his thumb trailed through your wetness. You moaned and watched as he brought his thumb to his lips and licked off your essence. You nearly came right then.

“Bucky…” you whimpered. “Please, I need you.” You thrust your hips up at him. He smirked before you felt his finger enter you. He brought his thumb down again, circling your clit while his finger started thrusting in and out of your cunt. You arched your back and let soft moans fall from your lips. Bucky watched every reaction. He was a man enjoying himself. A wicked chuckle left his mouth when he found your g-spot.  You had become a writhing mess as you were nearing orgasm. Bucky added a second finger and gave your clit a pinch, sending you over the edge. Your whole body shook as you nearly screamed out your release.

“That was fucking beautiful baby,” Bucky said, brushing his lips against yours. You nudged your hips against his, coating his cock with your slick. He grunted and reached down to align himself with your entrance. He slowly pushed forward, letting both of you enjoy the feeling. When he was fully seated inside, he stopped to give you a minute to adjust. You felt stretched, almost to the point of pain, but it was amazing.

Bucky was whispering words of encouragement against your lips. How good you felt, how tight you were around his cock, how he wanted to make you feel good. You rolled your hips into his, causing him to inhale sharply. He looked down at you, adjusting his arms on the couch for leverage. You brought one hand up to tangle in his hair, while the other got a good grasp on his ass.

Bucky started a nice and slow rhythm, just enough to make you want more. He placed his lips against your neck and sucked on the tender spot he had found earlier. You gasped and tugged on his hair. He growled into your neck and his thrust getting harder, going deeper. The sound of his skin slapping against yours was intoxicating.

“Oh god… Bucky… you feel so good.” You said, biting his shoulder. His lips met yours again. Your moans began mingling with his groans.  

He pulled his mouth from yours, “Are you going to come on my cock doll?” His thrusts had turned fast and choppy. The angle he was pumping, hit your clit with every drag in and out. Your body began to tense. “Come on, baby. I want to feel you come.” he said, chasing his own release. He reached down and drew rapid circles on your clit. You flew apart, coming with a startled cry. “O-oh fuck baby… shit,” Bucky groaned. He reared back, pulled out and gave his cock a few hard pumps before he spilled himself on your stomach. His face was contorted in pleasure and sweat was dripping from his forehead. It could have been your blissed-out brain, but he was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.

While you were waiting on both of your breathing to return to normal, you reached out and rubbed your hands along his thighs, “I’m pretty sure we missed the movie.” He laughed and got up to grab his t-shirt from the floor. He swiped it across your belly, cleaning up his mess. He wiped himself clean before sitting down and pulling you onto his lap.

“Trust me, I would much rather be right here with you, rather than watching some movie Tony picks.” He said brushing the hair off your face. He gave you a gentle kiss, “Wanna go back to my room and have our own movie night?”

Soft

Harry X Reader: Smut

In which Harry loves your boobs and hates when you sleep.

Request? Yes:

Omg please write something about harry and his missus boobs I’m dying for it


Harry has been in a mood since the moment he woke up, hands roaming your body under the sheets, cupping the underneath of your breasts, lips sponging over the back of your neck. He woke you up with his feely touches, much to your annoyance.

“Harry, leave me alone,” you mumbled, rolling away from him. The two of you were out late last night and had a long day ahead of you. You needed all the shut eye you could get.

“Jus’ wan’ some cuddles, love,” he complained with a tired whine, fingers snaking over your hip in an effort to pull you back to him.

“No, you don’t. Let me sleep.” You had to shove his hands away twice more before he finally relented, climbing out of bed to get ready for the day. You were thankful for the peace, but no matter how hard you tried, there was no getting back to sleep.

Now, here you are, yawning through the doorway after a busy schedule of meetings and catch-ups, toeing off your shoes in the entryway. Your feet lead you to the couch where you collapse onto your back, eyes resting closed. A wave of relieved bliss washes over you until it’s broken once more.

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Exquisite Death

Got your attention, didn’t it? GOOD. Now that you’re here:

Humans Are Weird ™

I know. Anyway - I was in the dentist this morning and I had a thought. It isn’t necessarily about teeth. Those of you hopelessly addicted to Dragon Age will recognize that phrase up there in reference to some apparently gorgeous-looking, truly-heinous petit fours. Apparently they’re…I don’t know? Delicious but killing you while you eat them. Pain, but, you know “worth it!”

So there I was, getting my teeth scraped and belt sanded clean and I realized that (along with the oh-so-nice slick feeling of clean teeth) I was really looking forward to my teeth aching all day. I know. Weird. But it’s like when I had braces - I hated the rubber bands, the jerk orthodontist, getting food stuck, and the brackets scraping up the inside of my mouth. What I didn’t hate was when I got adjustments and my teeth would dully ache for days. How messed up is that? It was my own Exquisite Death. A sweet ache.

Doesn’t have to be my brand of weird. Maybe for you it’s muscles. How they ache after a good run, a good workout. You hate it while it’s happening, but afterwards, when there’s that aching tingle of a muscle well-used, it’s pretty glorious.

— — —

“Human-Denton!” The alien’s too-large eyes were wide and unblinking as he looked down on his charge who had yet to get up off the floor. Urrut was supposed to be keeping watch over this human, but he was hard to keep track of - he was constantly moving and hardly ever asleep.

Holding an arm up, Denton let it fall to the ground. Hard. Muscles aching and protesting any sort of movement. “Gimme a minute.”

“Are you in distress? Shall I call a medic? Why did you do all of that - you are…oozing! Is this normal? Shall I call a medic?” Urrut’s sticky feet peeled up from the mat - first one than the other as he shifted uneasily.

“You asked that twice,” Denton gave a wheezing laugh. “I had to see if I could do it. Gotta push yourself, Ur. Gonna hurt like hell tomorrow.”

“I am calling a medic.”

“No, Urrut-” Oh it hurt, but he sat up. Rubbing his arms, he worked the stiffness threatening to set in. “I’m fine. I swear.” Next was his legs, and then he could get up. He wasn’t kidding. It was going to hurt tomorrow, but… “Worth it.”

— — —

Maybe you’re one of those people who gets a bruise and pokes at it “because it makes it heal faster”. Let’s be real. You just like the ache of it. Reminds you that you’re alive, that you can feel, that you did something amazing or stupid or amazingly stupid.

— — —

Shore leave was over, and as the crew made their way back on board, Meera found herself watching two of the human engineers talking and laughing about what they had done with their free time, and then…then they did something odd. One peeled back the shoulder of their jacket, and the other lifted the hem of their top covering to reveal discolorations - bruises.

They were laughing about them. They were proud of them. And - she was sure her face was a mash of confusion and disgust and horror - they were prodding at each others bruises, hurting each other, and laughing about it!

Barbarians the lot of them.

— — —

Maybe it’s food. Oh god, there’s no way you don’t know someone (or aren’t that someone) that eats good that hurts. Too hot. Too spicy. Too…dairy (lactose intolerant people, I feel for you.)

— — —

The lunchroom erupted in laughter as Aimee all but bathed in the water she was pouring into her mouth, down her throat, and all over the front of her clothes. She hopped around, flailing her hands, tears streaming down her face until someone shoved a glass of white, opaque liquid into her hands and she carefully drank it as though it were the most precious nectar.

Taking flight, Zzirxax zoomed across the room, hovering nearby, “What just happened? Is she okay?”

Through laughter and cursing and what Zzirxax came to understand that the humans had done something called a ‘dare’, and that it involved Human-Aimee consuming the hottest pepper from Galmeria-6. When asked why, why would she do that, the reply was predictably human.

“Won, didn’t I?” Mouth open a moment, fanning air towards it with her hand, Aimee took a deep breath and wiped away another tear. “So worth it.”

|Soulmate| Peter Parker

Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: About a week ago you got your soulmate tattoo on your forearm that said ‘Y-You’re beautiful’ and you’ve interpreted it as a random guy on the street cat-calling you.

Warnings: hurt(ish) Peter, (sorry they don’t kiss lol so that’s it) 

Words: 745

A/N: I LOVE THE SOULMATE AU WHERE YOUR SOULMATES FIRST THING THEY SAY TO YOU IS TATTOOED ON YOUR FOREARM (imma twist it up a bit tho and have it temporarily be tattooed)

Part 2

Originally posted by starkquinzel

~~~~~~~~~

It was last Friday when it showed up.

I woke up late and in a hurry so I scurried out of my room into the kitchen. My moms eyes widened and then she sprouted the biggest grin ever.

“Finally!” She laughed. I looked at her like she was crazy. She sighed and pointed to my arm. I looked down. ‘Y-You’re beautiful’ was tattooed across my forearm. A slight blush crept across my cheeks.

“I-I have to go to school,” I said as I bolted out the door.

And that brings me here today, Thursday. I thought over this tattoo probably over a thousand time. I’m probably soulmates with a fuck boi or something. I kept on reading the tattoo as if I was walking around town at night and some random guy just passed me and said it, so I told myself to never fall in love with that man. A thick scream erupted through my thoughts. I looked down the street and a man with huge wings was flying past. I ducked as he flew overhead.

“I will do- anything to protect the people I love!” The man with wings said as he stopped and turned around. I looked back down the street as Spider-Man swung on top of a building.

“Same goes for me- that’s why I gotta stop you.” The few people along the street started to scream and run away. I backed against a wall as the winged man and Spider-Man fought. I glanced down the street, wondering if I should run for it. I decided that yeah… I might get crushed by this weird vulture guy but also I wanna get the hell out of here. So I ran.

As I got closer to the end of the street I heard a crash in an alley I just passed. I stopped and looked over my shoulder, then up above me. The man with wings was flying away. I sighed and ran back to the alley. At the end, there was a trashcan with Spider-Man laying across the top. He had seriously dented it bad. I ran up to him.

“Oh God-” I said as he lay there motionless. I jumped up on the trashcan and kneeled next to him. His mask was pulled over half his face. I shimmied the rest of his mask off and put two fingers under his ear. Thump thump. I let out a sigh of relief. He groaned and I put my hand on his chest and shook him. “Hey- hey- wake up. Are you ok?” I asked. He leaned up slowly and then hissed in pain. He suddenly clutched his forearm.

“Shit-” He groaned. His suit had a rip near the hand and he ripped it even more.

“What are yo-” The sight of his forearm shut me up. A thin worded tattoo was now burning away off his skin. The words ’re you ok?’ were all I saw and then it was gone. He looked up at me with a confused look and then all of the expressions on his face dropped.

He was cute. Like wow. He looked kind of familiar with those brown eyes and messed up locks of hair. I doubt he went to my school since my school was so small and I basically knew everyone there. He probably went to Midtown, the high school that was a couple blocks from my school. Was he my soulmate? Is that what happened? Would the tattoo disappear from my skin? I realized he was still starring at me with his mouth agape.

“W-What?” I asked, blushing.

“Y-You’re beautiful.” He said. I bit my lip and a sharp pain spread across my forearm.

“Ow!” I moaned. I lifted up my sleeve and looked down. My tattoo was burning away, just like his. I looked up at him and he was beat red. A scream sounded from a couple blocks away, causing Spider-Man to break eye contact with me.

“I-I-I have t-to go-” He stuttered as he jumped off the trashcan.

“Wait- will we ever see each other again?” I asked him. He thought for a moment.

“I’ll find you- trust me on that.” He smiled and grabbed his mask. I smiled back as he swung away onto the building. It turns out it was smart of me to trust his word because the next day after school, a little spider, who was out of his costume, met me on my walk home.

~~~~~~~~~~~

anonymous asked:

I hate you, now fuck me

How Until My Feet Bleed by @kazliin Should Have Ended

Part of him still couldn’t believe that Yuuri was finally here with him, that this was real and not just another dream….

Digging one of his hands into the skin of Viktor’s back… slowly taking him apart, Yuuri looked at him, face flushed and staring at Viktor with an intensity that made it impossible to look away.

“I hate you.” Yuuri breathed and his eyes held none of the warmth or joy that Viktor had been feeling just seconds before. “Now fuck me.”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut and Viktor felt his fingers still in shock, the words so unexpected and unexpectedly painful that every muscle in his body froze and locked in place….

“What?!”

Victor snapped back, the rush hitting him like he was slamming back down on the ice again. To hear those words spoken outloud was a slap to the face and a plunge off a cliff, straight down the sheer rock face of confusion. Because the last time he was in a hotel room with Yuuri, he had been hearing softly muttered confessions imitating affection, and the sharp twist of reality was too much to ignore.

The chill in Yuuri’s eyes melted at Victor’s outburst, honey brown widening in betrayal of his shock. Whatever haze of lust and alcohol fleeted from them in stark reaction, and Yuuri seemed as frozen as Victor, except for his fingers trembling, curled into the bedsheets.

One breath take in an attempt to calm the mix of emotions threatening to spill forth, and Victor permitted it all burst forward despite himself. “Why are you even here then?”

Just like that, Victor saw all the confidence drain from Yuuri’s face, leaving him pale and then scrambling for shoved aside bedding to cover himself. Victor didn’t bother.

“Yuuri, I don’t-…” Years of questions leapt through every part of his mind, brawling to be the first to fall from his tongue just so he could finally hope to grasp at a single note of understanding. The most and least simple being, “why?”

If emotions and confusion, insistent need to understand were at battle inside himself, it looked like a war was raging through Yuuri. His gaze locked with Victor’s and yet he still looked torn between wanting to cling to it and to flee, clutching at the bedsheets which he brought up to cover himself, suddenly modest. “Why what?”

The tremor in his voice was all that Victor needed. “Why do you… I don’t get you, Yuuri! What the hell did I do to merit you dancing with me one moment and telling me you hate me as you try to sleep with me the next?”

A heartbeat passed. Then two.

Yuuri opened his mouth, no words coming forth, and then shut it. His eyebrows arched high into bangs messed from the heated lead up, and then his expression fell. And hardened. His red, swollen lips pursed into a thin line, and those gorgeous eyes narrowed. It almost startled Victor, to recognize in that moment the contempt he had often seen directed at him when on the podium.

“This! Exactly this!” Yuuri snapped, dropping the bedsheet as he leaned forward, closing the distance Victor placed between them. “The fact that you don’t even care enough to remember!”

“Remember what?!” Every memory of his interaction with Yuuri flashed by, but none of them could account for hate, at least not in Victor’s mind. “What I said to you in the bathroom that one time? That was–”

“No! Before that! You were my idol, Victor, and you broke my heart!”

Before that… Desperately, Victor searched every shred of memory, every hint of an interaction with Yuuri that he had treasured no matter how tense or distant, but there was nothing. “What, Yuuri, I would never–”

“You did!” Yuuri’s words cut in and Victor let him, watching the flush of arousal on Yuuri’s skin turn to one of anger and irritation instead. “I worshipped you and you insulted me. You belittled me. I was just a kid…” Yuuri inhaled a shaky breath and the dam broke. “I went to see you, when you skated your last Junior season. I got tickets as a birthday present, because I wanted nothing more than to see you skate. And after you won, I… I waited outside for you, to get your autograph. And I met you.”

It wasn’t ice in Yuuri’s eyes anymore. It wasn’t fire. It was what Victor had felt so close to, so many times himself, could recognize instantly. Defeat.

“You… you broke my heart, Victor, when I met you…”

Broken did not seem to be enough. Victor shattered, cascading into shards that littered the cold floor beside them. “I… I don’t remember.”

“Of course you don’t. I was just one fan. And you have so many. Why should you?”

He should have. Why didn’t he. “But Yuuri, it’s you. How could I not remember you?” Why would he though. Yuuri was right. He would have just been another face in the crowd. Yet Victor felt like he should. Of all the faces, of people, he should have remembered Yuuri. What had he even said.

“You didn’t. You… I just-… how many other hearts did you break, Victor? How many other dreams did you step on? Or did you forget all of those too?”

The shards fragmented. Stepped on and crushed by each syllable being confessed. He had met Yuuri, broken his heart, and couldn’t even recall how. Couldn’t even begin to guess. “Yuuri, I’m sorry-”

“Whatever,” Yuuri sighed, then shoved off the bed, but Victor reached over and grabbed his hand before Yuuri could grab his clothes off the floor, grateful for when Yuuri stopped and did not jerk away.

“Yuuri, don’t please…” He needed to understand. He would not be content to leave it at that. “You… at the Olympics, you got drunk… you told me that you liked me. Or that you liked my hair, and my eyes. So I know you can’t hate me. Not completely. And Yuuri, I don’t hate you. Please, I just need to understand, so that if I need to spend the rest of my life apologizing to you, I can mean it. So please tell me. Help me remember. Or at least, help me understand.”

Conflict writ itself in bold across Yuuri’s face, but the tension in his shoulders softened and the pull of his wrist in Victor’s hand ebbed away. The digital clock display on the hotel bedstand switched minutes, and Yuuri pulled at his lower lip with his teeth, then nodded. “Okay but… let me put something on first?”

There was a blush tinting Yuuri’s cheeks, softening him into a vision Victor had only seen in Phichit’s photos before, of a delicate Yuuri that Victor had never been permitted to see in the flesh before now. His chest felt too small for his heart as it swelled with the affection Victor had already been so bad at containing.

Without the briefest moment of hesitation, Victor rushed to the corner of the room, grabbing one of his shirts from closet since he had now regrettably torn Yuuri’s. He draped it across Yuuri’s shoulders with a gentleness that Yuuri did not seem to believe.

“I think we probably have a lot to talk about.” Victor tried to smile and felt it bloom into a real one when Yuuri scoffed, a thread of amusement and understatement so clearly wrapped around it.

“Yeah… I think… we really do.”


(The moral of the story: communication can happen, if you behave like a good person and put your dick away for just a hot second)

overreact.

klaus mikaelson x reader 

prompt: seeing another woman all over your boyfriend has you fuming, klaus takes it upon himself to show you who he belongs to. 

warnings: swearing, smut + daddy kink. (loosely edited.)

the champagne glass in your hand felt heavy as you watched on. people around you bustled but you paid them no mind, instead your sight was fixated on the scene in front of you. another mikaelson ball was in attendance and you donned a beautiful gown, even surprising yourself with how well fitting it was - classy and just the right amount of trashy for you to feel like a goddess. 

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