i still like it though may continue to try and get this down better

BTS LETTERS TO EACH OTHER:

Suga to Jin: 

“ To Jinjinjara/Seok-jin!! It’s your eternal roommate, Suga. I can’t believe it’s been 7 years since we’ve known each other. Remember when I first met you? You seemed so well-behaved and kind and you seem so bright and cheerful these days, which amazes me. I believe that being together with us has brought about that change? It seems like yesterday when you were concerned and not confident on stage but when I see you on stage these days, I realize how well you sing. It’s the result of your hard effort for a long period of time. I’ve watched you for a long time. It was touching to see you try to do better at something that you weren’t good at. I felt that I had a lot to learn from you. Let’s be together for a long time. P.S: But I wish you’d act your age”.

Jin to Jungkook: 

“ To Jk, Hi, JK. It’s me. I’m always appreciative of what you do. Thank you for having the same mental age as I do, when I am 26 years old. While traveling with you, I was reminded once again of how strong your punches are. I’ll do better, so please don’t hit me. I think your face got a lot darker during this trip. As the older guy, I’ll give you a facial mask when we go back to Korea. Soothe your skin with it, and also soothe yourself and stop lying on my bed. You keep lying on my bed and taking selfies. You may have gotten a tan in Hawaii, but I will throw you into a fire pit in Korea. Of course, that fire pit is my heart.  Come and be embraced in my big heart. Thank you for being the teacher and the energy of the team. Jungkook, you are nice, good looking, strong, have a  good body, have big eyes, sings and dances well. I love you”.

Jungkook to Rap Monster: 

“To Namjoon, Hey. This is the youngest of the team, Jungkook. I’m not good at writing letters so I don’t know where to start, but here I go. This is something that I always think about. I often get inspired, by the team. Although I’m inspired by all the members, I’m especially inspired by you. I have a lot of things that I wanna do but I never seem to stick to them for long. You guys always joke about that. But when that pattern was repeated, I felt that I have really become that kind of person. Whenever I see you working, talking about or working on music or speaking English, I develop this sense of confidence and passion. I know that things may be tough for you too, but please continue showing those things for me. I’ll keep following you from behind. You’re really an amazing person”.

Taehyung to Jimin: 

“To Jimin. Jimin, hi.  Writing you this sincere letter is making me cringe, but I’m trying to go on. Please understand. Since our trainee days, we came to Seoul without a clue.  We woke up, put on uniforms and attended the same school. We ate together, went to practice together, went to practice and got back to the dorm. Then we’d talk all night. After such 6 years, you’re now my dearest friend. Before our debut, you once got anxious about it. At that time, I had a company meeting. they asked me what I’d think if Jimin is on the team. I thought it over and said that you’re there when I’m up or down, the only one who laughed and cried with me. I said that I’d like such a good friend to debut with me as a team. It felt good to say that. And I’m glad that I was able to debut with you. All our good memories made me happy. And I’m sorry since I’m always on the receiving end. When I’m in the bathroom to cry, you still cry with me. And you come see me at dawn to laugh alongside me. You care about me and have me in your thoughts. You work hard for me and understand. You listen to my concerns and like me though I’m lacking. Let’s walk a road of happiness. Love you, buddy.

Rap Monster to Tae-Hyung: 

“Taehyung, my first letter goes to you. That gives me a mix of feelings. Like the peddles we’ve seen to our heart’s content in Hawaii, it’s hard to pick out what I want to say to you. like the open sea we’ve enjoyed, it may be because we go far back with many memories we share. I remember when I first met you. When you came with your father to our dorm with big eyes, busy legs, and your puckered lips, I knew at once.That you'be a rascal. I also remember how you were anxious before our debut. Your unique character and strangeness got me puzzled at times. so I wondered what aspect of yours helped you to bear everything at times. But as time went by and my hair started to grow out, I realized that even me, who I thought was the norm, is also a strange puzzling guy. And I was drawn by your uniqueness. And I was envious at times because you easily befriend people and everyone likes you. You have shown everyone that your strangeness is actually your unique charm. You might say this makes you cringe, but since you started out as a trainee, I want to say I’m grateful to you as a friend and older member.  Thanks for not being a farmer or playing the saxophone and coming to us to complete BTS. Let’s keep up the good work. Hand in there!”.

Jhope to Suga: 

“To my bro Suga from Jhope, Hey. It’s Hoseok. We’ve been together for 7  years, including our trainee days. When I was first at the dorm, I felt so awkward and shy. So I remained in the living room. Then you came over to talk and made me relax. I still can’t forget that moment. Coming from Gwangju, you were like my savior.  When I was sick or sad, you were always there for me. When I was tired and had it hard; you were there to give me strength. When I got seasick on Bon Voyage 2 and opened my eyes from sleep, the first person I saw was you. Though Jimin was also there. I didn’t say it then, but I really appreciate your help. As much as we’ve spent time together, I’m that much grateful to you. I’d like to say that with this letter at this time. Thanks for becoming a member of BTS. And thanks for being my big brother. I hope you’re always by my side. I love my bro!“.

Jimin to Jhope:

 “To Hoseok. I thought it would be easy because it’s not the first letter to you. But it’s not. I am nervous. Because we talk together a lot and I talk about my feelings to you, I guess you know well what I think or what I want to say. When I look at you, I have this thought: ‘He is really honest and faithful. He is a good and nice one”. I thought like this: “A person can be cool because he is honest and faithful”. I realized it thanks to you.  As a younger brother and a member of the same team, I learn a lot from you. You always take good care of us. you pay attention to us and work hard. I know. I want to say thank you, with all my heart. Thank you, brother! I hope you take care of yourself and stop worrying about us. My dear brother, whom I always am thankful, love you.“

By @mimibtsghost

Some hilarious writing prompts

Alright so a few days ago I decided to look for some hilarious text posts on tumblr and I laughed so much I just had to write some prompts! (is possible to be customized)
(Send me requests with 1/1+ prompt/s. I write about a lot of fandoms and also a lot of different things : one shots/scenarios/imagines/headcanons/chats/conversations/aesthetics/alomst anything) REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

*1. Do I look like I give a fuck?
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*2. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on you again for taking advantage of my compassionate and forgiving nature! HOw dare you.
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*3. Me? Overreacting? Probably.
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4. I used to be passive aggressive, but now I’m aggressively passive. Don’t mess with me kiddo. I’ll be right here. I’ll fucking forgive you.
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5. A: Whar are you doing?
B: Avoiding.
A: Avoiding what?
B: Everything.
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*6. This was impulsive. Probably shouldn’t have done it. WHO CARES?
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*7. You’re really cute and it’s ruining my life because I think about kissing you all the time.
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8. A: It’s okay, I’m not mad.
    A (5 mins later): Actually? You can go to Hell.
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9. I hate people who get personally offended when I’m in a bad mood, likeI’m not mad at you Susan (name), I’m mad at the world!
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10. A to A: Bitch, if you actually applied yourself in like…anything, you’d be dangerous ,damn my lazy ass.
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11. I don’t know what I’m feeling, but there’s a lot of it.
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12. Not to dictate your life, but drop your shitty friends.
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13. That sounds like responsibility and I want no part in it.
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14. Why am I better than everyone? Jesus, life’s hard.
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15. A: How do you make someone holy?
B: You beat the hell out of them.
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16. A: I’m amazed of how insignificant we actually are.
B: Not me, I’m important.
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17. If anyone can do it, then someone who isn’t me can do it.
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18. In the old days of one week ago things were different. Now look at us - slightly older than we were back then, other clothes and such.
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19. I’m not going to claim that I know everything, I’m simply going to act like it.
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*20. You have to “see it to believe it”, so as long as I’m not looking I don’t have to believe in anything.
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21. I’m visualising a powerful mystical energy at the moment.
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22. If I don’t learn anything from my mistakes then I don’t have to consider them mistakes in the first place.
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23. Why the hell is there always this one weak bitch in the group that isn’t down with murder? No offence though.
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24. A: If you ever feel stupid, or weak, or powerless, just remember that I, am not.
B: THanks.
A: You’re welcome.
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25. I wanna do dirty stuff with you like farming.
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26. A: What are you reading?
B: 10 tips for beutiful hair the Government doesn’t want you to know.
A: wHAT the fuck?
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27. A: I’m tired of these constant near-death experiences.
B: (opinional) don’t be a whiny bitch, bitch.
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28. Man, how many eye contact until date?
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29. God has a favourite comedy tv series and it’s called “my life”.
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30. Sometimes all you can say is “yikes” and then just on the fuck on.
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31. Why is everyone having their mid-life crisis at like 19?
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32. It’s a beutiful day to give me money, honey.
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33. Women aren’t complicated, you’re just dumb.
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34. Well this social situation isn’t going the way I acted it out in the shower.
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35. No offence, but my favourite hobby is staying hydrated and beautiful.
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36. I’m actually pretty cool if you give me like 5 tries to get it right.
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37. Today I’m feeling cloudy with a chance of sarcastic.
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38. Be prapared to add a cute emoji next to my name in your contacts list because you’re gonna love me.
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*39.A: Babe, I’m not grabbing your boob, I’m grabbing your heart.
B: That’s my right boob though.
A: Babe.
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40.Every machine is a smoke machine if you operate it wrong enough.
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41.What makes me feel like a failure the most is when I can’t remember the answet to a Harry Potter trivia question.
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42.I hate it when I’m really nice…And then people are just not that nice? Like what the fuck.
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43.Don’t look at me in that tone of voice.
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*44.Is your name candle? Because I wanna blow you.
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*45. So, was that just awkward eye contact, or were we checking eachother out?-

46.You know, having feelings is ruining my reputation of being a heartless bitch.
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47.My turn ons? Well I don’t know, maybe some fucking common sense.
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48.I may seem like an angry person on the surface, but deep inside I’m actually angrier.
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49.I ship me and that boat.
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50.Listen. I did mean to make you upset and I do think your opinions are shit. But you’re still my friend so it’s okay.
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51.Because my two moods are like glitter and death.
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*52.My kink is closing the fucking bathroom door, because no one wants to see you fucking pee!
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53.If I go to Hell I’m gonna constantly torture everyone by continuously asking if it’s hot in here or is it just me.
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54.Oh my God are you seeing this shit?
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55.Graduated top of my class from Hogwarts school of bitchcraft and misery.

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56.A (shows up at your door 10 years after we had an argument): aND ANOTHER THING

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57.I’ll betray all of you in the Hunger Games.

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58.Well, well, well, if it isn’t my old friend, the dawing realization that I fucked up real bad.

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59.I’m a screamer. Not sexually, just life in general.

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60.I’m not racist, I hate everyone equally.

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61.Tell me I’m cute or something, so I can roll my eyes at you, but then blush when I think about it later.

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62.You know when your hair is greasy and it makes you feel so bad about yourself? And your entire life. Everything is awful because my hair is greasy.

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63.True love is having a crush even when he got a haircut you know.

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64.Emotions? You know, I just push my tear back into my eye and tell it “Not now, you little bastard!”.

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65.Are we gonna hold hands, or what?

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66.My soul leaving my body, but with one of those slide whistle sound effects.

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67.A: I love you.

B: What if I got a bowl cut?

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68.I should really stop planning my future around being rich or famous…but I can’t.

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69.I’m aggressively thibking about having sex with you and trying to keep a straight face at the same time. Do you know hOW hard that is?

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70.My opinion is no.

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71.Did you fall from heaven, because so did Satan.

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72.What to hear a fairytale? Once upon a time you weren’t such a little bitch.

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73.Which is messier - my life or my hair?

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74.How can you face the problem when the problem is your face?

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75.Sometimes I wonder what it feels like to know wHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON.

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76.Read a girl who dates books.

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77.My hands are cold let me put them in your pants.

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78.I’m sorry, you must be at least level 4 friend to unlock my tragic backstory.

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79.My therapist once told me that I have this obsession with seeking revenge…we’ll see about that.

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80.You have lips, I have lips…interesting.

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81.Do my dark undereye circles and unwashed hair turn you on?

/PART TWO/ PART THREE /

stuck on you. (m) | 01

“I want you to take my virginity.”
“What the fuck did you just ask me, Kim Taehyung?”

or, alternatively:

you’re not actually supposed to take your bestfriend’s virginity when he asks, right?

pairing: kim taehyung x reader 
genre: attempt at crack, eventual smut, college au
warnings: sexual jokes (like a cringe-worthy amount)
words: 9,582k
part: 01/03

out of context quote:
[9:52 am] Taehyung:  ___\o/___ me drowning in ur pussy lol 




“I want you to take my virginity.”



You’ve just taken a gulp of your pulp-included orange juice when Taehyung says this. He’s sitting across from you in the cafeteria of the University you both attend - have attended for the past two years.



His brown coffee coated eyes are staring directly into yours - a serious expression written across his features that tells you what he’s just spoken was said in nothing but pure seriousness.



And he says it so nonchalantly - so earnestly, that you do the only thing you can think of.



A perfectly reasonable reaction after hearing that your best friend, the boy you’ve been in love with for over two years - wants you to take his virginity.



You spit your orange juice out all over him.


Keep reading

A sampling of some of the many, many universes in which Viktor Nikiforov and Yuuri Katsuki didn’t somehow manage to avoid each other for TEN+ YEARS and are already happily married (Inspired in part by the musings of @kiaronna and @pearlo on this topic from this post):

  • In 2010, Viktor is leaving an Olympic after party because it has just more or less dissolved into an orgy and that’s not Really his scene. In this universe, he decides not to go back to his room and instead finds his way to an outdoor seating area, which is not very heavily utilized given the fact that it’s February. There is only one other person out there–an athlete with his back turned, curled up onto a bench. The lettering on his jacket says Japan.
    “Mind if I join?” he asks, and the other man turns to reveal dark hair and the deepest eyes Viktor has ever seen.
    “Oh,” he squeaks. “No. Go ahead.”
    They sit, and talk, and three hours later exchange phone numbers. Instead of going to America to train, Yuuri Katsuki goes to Russia to train under Yakov Feltsman. He takes National gold in 2011 and marries Viktor in 2012.
  • Phichit accidentally posts a video of Yuuri doing a bit of Viktor’s 2013 free skate to Instagram, instead of the hamster video he meant to post. The video makes its way through the figure skating grapevine until, obviously, reaching Viktor. Viktor immediately DM’s Phichit, begging to know who the man in the video is.
    Yuuri wakes up to six missed calls, 609 Instagram notifications, 49 texts and a DM from Viktor Nikiforov.
    “I WAS ASLEEP FOR AN HOUR,” he shrieks.
    Phichit takes complete credit for their marriage in his speech at their wedding less than a year later.
  • Through the careful and judicious saving of money for several years, and because in at least one timeline the main waterline in the onsen and the transmission on the family car don’t go kaput in the same year, Yuuri’s family is able to send him to one of Yakov Feltsman’s ice skating boot camps when he is fourteen years old.
    Viktor is there, all shining hair and huge smile and new celebrity. He has just placed at the Turin Olympics and is on his way to becoming a Russian household name, and Yuuri has been in love with him for two years already.
    “Yuuri!” Viktor coos across the ice, over the heads of the fifteen other skaters in the bootcamp. “Keep your hips even! It won’t make it so hard to turn into your Axel!”
    “Yuuri! Don’t hunch your shoulders on the spread eagle!”
    “Yuuri! Your thigh should be parallel to the ice on that sitspin!”
    “He’s incredibly skilled for his age,” Lilia tells Yakov in the back of the rink one day. “And Vitya has been behaving remarkably well, since he came here.” She fixes her eyes on Yakov, deep and determined. “He’ll be old enough to make his senior debut next year. If we groom him through his last year of juniors, he could bronze in his first GPF, or better. I want him, Yasha.”
    Yakov Feltsman is not in the habit of denying his wife those few things she asks of him.
    Yuuri Katsuki returns home after that bootcamp to pack his things and collect his dog and hug his parents goodbye.
    “I’ll take good care of him, Mr. and Mrs. Katsuki,” Viktor assures from a Skype call. “He’ll be getting the best training in the world. I even have a poodle, so Vicchan won’t be lonely during the day!”
    Hiroko and Toshiya just smile knowingly.
    Yuuri Katsuki is newly fifteen when he moves to Russia and begins sharing a condo with Viktor Nikiforov. He is sixteen when he wins his first GPF silver, and eighteen when the Vancouver Olympics roll around and he stands below his best friend on the podium and accepts silver for Japan as Viktor accepts gold.
    He is nineteen when, after five years of glances and touches and shared secrets and tears and laughter, Viktor pulls him into bed.
    “About time,” is the general consensus to that.
    They have only been dating, dating-dating, for five months when Viktor asks him to marry him.
    “I know it’s quick,” Viktor says, “but I feel like–I feel like we’ve known each other all our lives, anywa, so what’s the point in waiting?”
    Yuuri, of course, feels the same way.
  • Viktor makes a split-second decision to touch up his make-up before a press conference at the Trophee de France 2011, and as he’s patting the sweat marks off his temples hears the definite sound of someone crying.
    “Um,” he announces to the otherwise silence bathroom. “Are you okay?”
    “Yeah!” comes the answer, shrill. “I’m totally fine!”
    “You don’t sound fine,” Viktor says, and ducks his head to see which stall has feet under it. In the last stall, he sees a pair of badly-abused sneakers. He straightens up and knocks on the door. “I’ll leave you alone if you want me to, but I can–if you want, I can show you a better place to cry. Than here.”
    It takes a moment, but the door opens. The man in front of him has watery eyes and puffy red cheeks and Viktor isn’t sure he has ever found someone so beautiful.
    “Okay,” he whispers, and Viktor leads him onto the roof where instead of crying, he stares out over the skyline and tells Viktor about his home town.
    Viktor never does discover why Yuuri was crying, but he does get his phone number–and he does visit his hometown with him, a year later, to tell Yuuri’s family that they’ve decided to get married.
  • Yuuri is somehow convinced by Phichit to go out with a group after Skate America in 2013–Phichit is in his element, leading people around the city with expansive gestures and the effortless social confidence Yuuri has come to know of his best friend. 
    “You’re from this city too, aren’t you?” asks someone at Yuuri’s shoulder, and Yuuri turns from Phichit’s monologue to see Viktor Nikiforov of all people. Yuuri, distantly in the back of his mind, realizes that he didn’t see Viktor before because he is wearing a hat, scarf, and enormous sunglasses.
    “Um, not from here,” Yuuri says, trying not to squeak, “but I–we both live here, Phichit and I.”
    “But you know the city,” Viktor says, “so that means you would know a place where I can get the most disgustingly greasy food imaginable and you and I can go there and my coach never needs to know?”
    “Yes,” Yuuri says immediately, because he may be timid around most people, and especially around his idol, but he has more than enough sense to realize that His Time Has Come. “I can absolutely do that.”
    Yuuri takes Viktor to American Coney Island, where they eat loose burgers and chili fries and drink diet coke, which is the only cession to their diets.
    “Oh Yuuri,” Viktor laughs at the end of the night, a speck of chili cheese still at the corner of his mouth, “I could fall in love with a man like you.”
    And he does.
  • Celestino wins a radio lottery and receives tickets to Champions on Ice in Las Vegas–he decides to take Yuuri and a rinkmate. Yuuri’s rinkmate is nice, but he doesn’t know her very well, and he’s several years younger. She also has friends in Nevada who she wants to meet up with, and Yuuri doesn’t know anybody in the state for obvious reasons. On the first day they are there, Yuuri’s rinkmate disappears with her friends and Celestino takes his wife and goes exploring on the strip. Yuuri stays in his room and plays Pokemon and Skypes his mother.
    On the second day, Yuuri goes shopping for souvenirs for Yuuko and his family, and stares far too long at the billboard of Viktor Nikiforov’s face that is advertising the ice show. That night, he debates which of the three posters he brought with him he should bring to have Viktor sign, before deciding on none–the odds that he will meet Viktor Nikiforov tonight are practically not any higher than they were when the were on opposite sides of the world, and Celestino won’t want to wait in the long autograph lines.
    “Don’t you want an autograph, Yuuri?” Celestino asks after the show, and Yuuri thinks it’s nice of him even though they both know that the polite thing to do is say no.
    “No,” Yuuri says, staring at the long line, and continues out of the building. 
    They branch off then–Celestino has dinner plans with his wife, and Yuuri’s rinkmate is meeting back up with her friends for some clubbing.
    Yuuri is walking back to the hotel when he bumps headlong into somebody’s solid chest.
    “Oh, sorry,” they say, and steady him with hands on his shoulders. Yuuri looks up and finds the same icey blue eyes frm that billboard yesterday staring back at him.
    “Oh,” Yuuri whispers, wide-eyed. “You’re–”
    “Shhh,” whispers Viktor Nikiforov, pressing a finger to his own lips. “Don’t give it away, I’m hiding. 
    “VITYA,” someone from the alley leading back towards the ice center screams.
    “Come on,” Viktor laughs, and tugs Yuuri away by the hand. 
    It’s the spring before Viktor will cut his hair, and it flies out behind him in a magnificent cascade as they run.
    They find their way into a club, where Viktor buys them drinks and laughs and laughs no matter what Yuuri is saying, and then drags him out onto the dance floor. Yuuri has not yet met Phichit Chulanont, who will drag him to pole dancing classes and teach him how to move his hips like a weapon, but he and Viktor get by in the crush of bodies, pushing against each other.
    “I think I love you,” Viktor breaths against his neck, and they’re both three sheets to the wind, but Viktor is Russian and Yuuri is a college student and their tolerance is astronomical. They aren’t even stumbling. “I know we only just met, but I think I love you.”
    “Then let’s get married,” Yuuri blurts before he can help it, and Viktor beams.
    “Yes!” he cries. “Yes, let’s do that!”
    It isn’t hard to find a place that will marry them–even though Viktor’s signature on the certificate looks more like a drawing of a tree, and even though Yuuri’s tie ends up around his forehead halfway through the ceremony.
    In the morning, Yuuri wakes up with the worst hangover of his life, fully-clothed next to Viktor Nikiforov, and says, “We can–this happens all the time, we can have it annulled.”
    Viktor stares down at the ring on his finger, tangled hair all over one shoulder. Yuuri realizes that he doesn’t even rememer where the rings came from. How much did they cost? 
    “I would rather not, if that’s okay,” Viktor murmurs, and so they don’t.
    Yuuri carries out the rest of the year in Detroit, wearing the ring around his neck on a chain and thinking about his husband, half a world away, waiting for him.
Tips for young trans boys going on HRT [From two dudes already going through it]

Ok so since not everyone is actually fortunate enough to go through an actual Gender Service, I’m going to write some Will and Probably Won’t things that come with going on T. For ref, I’ve been on T a year and my bf has been on for two. Let’s start;

Won’t:

You’ll wake up one day and sound like Morgan Freeman. 

Will:

Going on T will deepen your voice. 

For some people it may happen quite suddenly, for others gradually. Most likely you’ll sound like you have a bad cold for a while and then it’ll even out and be different. If you like to sing, be aware of voice cracks and suddenly being unable to sing as high as you used to. Some guys get lucky and still retain singing prowess, but be aware there’s a high chance you won’t. 

Each person’s vocal change is different. My voice cracked literally after the first injection, whilst my bf had to wait a while for changes. Don’t be worried if it appears your voice isn’t changing and be aware it may not go incredibly deep. It will probably be more noticeable to others than you and eventually it’ll feel like your normal voice. Your pets will recognise your voice, they will always come to know you. 

Won’t:

Face shape will change drastically to become more masculine.

Will:

After a while on T, you may experience some change in face and body shape. 

A lot of trans boys I know seem to believe they’ll wake up one day and just have the perfect masc face. Everyone is different, I can’t stress this enough. You may experience a huge change in the face, you may experience almost nothing. My bf always had a very round ‘moon’ face and his cheeks have started to slim down but his facial shape is more or less the same. As for myself I’ve not noticed anything too considerable yet. 

The same goes for the broadening of the shoulders. If you’re very slender to begin with, you’re probably never going to be Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson, but you might experience some changes. Again, don’t be disheartened, everyone is different. 

Won’t:

The fat in your breasts will break down from going on T and make you look a lot more flat, if your chest is small you may not even have to wear a binder.

Will:

If you have A cups, then maybe the breakdown that happens with T will mean you don’t have to bind. However, the breakdown from T alone is very small unless you’re on it for years. Also be aware that a lot of the fat in your body in general is going to start focusing on your stomach. It’ll become easier to gain muscle once on T, but if you don’t exercise, the weight you lose from other areas will go to your stomach. But also, muscle weighs more than fat, remember that. You may drop clothing sizes, which can be a pain if you’re already quite small and have trouble finding masc clothes to fit you, trust me I know. 

Also a note on binders: Do not use bandages or cheap binders. Do not. Binders can cause damage after prolonged use when you’re using a proper binder nevermind anything else. Bandages are made to contract and not let in moisture, they are not good for being tight around the chest! Cheap binders are also usually not breathable and will hurt more than they should! It could cost a lot, but forking out for a proper binder from places like lesloveboat is really going to be worth it. There is the sports bra method if you can’t get a binder because you’re not Out yet and couldn’t justify getting a binder to your parents etc but even then it’s not as safe as a proper binder.

Any binder shouldn’t be worn for longer than recommended, and will most likely rub especially when the T starts to make you sweat more. There’s also going to be an increase in acne on the chest around where the binder fits. If your chest ever really starts to hurt, find somewhere to take the binder off. I don’t care where you are, if you’re getting huge chest pains, take the damn thing off. If you damage yourself the chance of being able to get surgery reduces drastically, not to mention a whole lot of health problems you don’t want to deal with. It’s harsh, but it’s a lot better for you. Get a binder in the next size up and try again.

Won’t:

My periods will stop immediately and I’ll never have them again.

Will:

Eventually your periods will stop, though you may spot occasionally whilst you still have the necessary organs.

Though everyone is different, don’t be disheartened if you still have a period or two after starting T, you’ll stop eventually. You could also go a while without a period and then spot before stopping again. If the spotting continues for a while, or if you start to experience severe cramping, go and see a doctor

Won’t:

I’m going to get angry and aggressive a lot when on T!

Will:

Your emotions will be doing a whole lot of different things. Your may get angry, and you may also find your sex drive increases. You might also get upset more often or at things that never upset you before, or aren’t necessarily sad. I cried listening to that Chick Chick song, it’s ridiculous. It won’t last forever, be patient with yourself, there’s nothing wrong with you it’s basically just puberty (again).

Last things - 

Hair growth all depends on the person, the face being the last place that will probably grow hair and even then you’ll probably only have a tiny fluff for a long time, unless you’re lucky. My bf is experiencing hair in places now that I started growing extremely quickly right away. It could be to do with my having dark hair and him being a redhead tbh. But you will grow hair, all over. All over. Be prepared for that. You will get hair in places you never had much if any hair before. I have hair on my chest now. Not a whole lot but it’s there. The stomach is another hotspot for hair growth on T.

You will get acne, you will start to stink, sweat more and you may get growing pains. Look up Male Puberty, seriously, it’ll give you a good idea of some of the stuff that will start happening to you. Until your hormones calm down, your acne will not ultimately improve even with skincare. If you’re under 21, you might grow a little and the pains will be considerable. I gained like maybe an inch so I’m still short af but that’s something.

Your clit will start to get bigger. I know talking about the female genitalia we have is a big dysphoria bomb for a lot of us, but you need to read this. Your clit will get bigger, maybe considerably, maybe so much that the lips won’t hide it any more (if they ever did). It will rub against your underwear and/or your packer. For me it’s just mildly irritating, though for my bf it actually hurts (stings) him. It will be really sensitive either way. Be aware of that. 

Some people you don’t see every day or aren’t very close to may not recognise you when considerable changes occur. Use this to your advantage! Reintroduce yourself! 

If you self-inject, be prepared to mess up. There will be pain, swelling and bruising. If you have a nurse to inject you (like we do) there’s a change that they too might occasionally catch a nerve and you may bruise. Do not inject directly into a vein.

It’s perfectly fine to cry because of growing pains, pain from rubbing etc. You can be a man and still cry and complain but at least be aware of what to expect. 

Most changes will be so gradual that you’ll never look in the mirror and see a stranger, it’ll be like this was always the way you were.

If you do however, start to become really distressed by the changes or start to see nothing but a stranger in the mirror, please reconsider whether HRT is the right thing for you. The last thing you want is to be stuck with changes that are actually distressing you. It’s ok if you thought you wanted/needed this but then realised you didn’t/don’t. 

Last (gosh this was long). Every guy is different. Some changes come fast, some don’t. Some may be huge changes and some only small. Don’t compare yourself to other trans guys especially your own friends/loved ones. Every guy is different, be proud of your changes as they come and don’t let anyone bring you down just because those changes aren’t ~*significant*~  to them.

know it all — p.p.

summary : may parker can’t fathom that you and her nephew aren’t dating yet- she can’t wait forever, you know, and she knows it’s going to happen eventually. when has may ever been wrong?

word count : 3k

author’s note : long time no see?? LOL sophomore year is successfully kicking my ass but i wrote this and it’s semi long so?? 

   May Parker prides herself on a lot of things- namely, her stunning resilience in the face of immense adversity, and the way she just seems to know things. She can’t help it, it’s her not so lame superpower and she uses it on Peter all the time, much to his annoyance. She earns a roll of the eyes whenever she says something out of the blue, so profound Peter can’t help but contemplate its credibility for the hours that follow their interactions. She knows things, she does, and she knows that you and her nephew are as meant to be as her and Ben were- are, she chastises herself sometimes- and she knows it so truly in the deepest recesses of her heart that the fact that you and Peter aren’t together is something that goes right over her head. 

   “Peter, hon, when’s your girl coming over? I miss having other ladies in the house,” she says one day, interrupting the silence that had settled upon the pair  as Peter recited the periodic table of elements so naturally in his head in preparation for a quiz the following day. Peter loses track somewhere between lithium and beryllium or maybe it was phosphorus, he doesn’t know anymore, when he hears May call you that, his girl, and he shakes his head at her wildly. “What? What’d I say?” May points her wooden spoon at him, and Peter’s reminded that she’s Italian for the fifth time that day. 

   “May, she’s not- she’s not my, like, girlfriend,” he stresses each syllable the word carries, practically throwing his pencil across the table when he turns his chair to get a better view of his aunt as she prepares dinner- pasta, again, because she claims it’s the only thing she can’t possibly mess up. “You know that! Y/N’s been my best friend forever.” 

    “You realize you can be best friends with your girlfriend, don’t you?” Peter can sense May’s eyes rolling even though he can’t see her since she’s facing the stove with her back turned. “You two have definitely kissed. You can’t tell me you haven’t.” 

    Peter’s entire face feels hot when she says that, his hands clammy when he presses them together against his cheeks, placing his elbows on the table to prop his head up. “That’s embarrassing, May. Why would you ever ask me that?” He runs his hands through his hair and the gel is so terribly packed on it that the carefully prepared hairstyle comes undone with one swift movement. “We haven’t, in case you’re wondering, which I know you are because you’re nosy.” Peter feels the spoon lightly poke into his back, a playful warning. 

   “Anyways,” May continues loudly, “as I was saying before, your girlfriend should come over for dinner sometime this week. I’m making pasta.” She grins before placing a bowl of penne in front of Peter, his least favorite pasta shape. Peter scowls at the penne but picks up his fork anyway and shoves some in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully for a moment before giving May a thumbs up. At least she was proud of it. “I won’t make penne if you get her to come over.” 

    She knows she’s got him when she sees the slow, unsure nod start. He sticks his hand out, and May shakes it happily. “Only because of the penne. I want bowties. Please,” he gives his aunt his best, brightest, sweetest smile he can form, much like the ones that come so naturally when he turns his gaze to look at you- but May won’t bring that up just yet. “And don’t make girlfriend jokes in front of her.” His utensil stabs into the pasta as he thinks to himself, ‘cause if you keep it up in front of her, she’ll think I’m a weirdo and I’ll never genuinely get to call Y/N that, ever. Honestly, he’d much rather launch himself headfirst off of the Empire State Building than never get to experience kissing you, holding your hand, being with you in all those sorts of hopelessly romantic ways that he daydreams about regularly. He’s doing it again, slipping into that endless reverie he always seems to find himself lost in. But it’s okay. His mind is a chasm of soft loves and sweet words shared between the two of you. It’s a beautiful, long mess of a dream. 

   “You lost, Pete?” May snaps her fingers in front of his face, bemused. 

    “A little,” he sighs in that dreamy tone she recalls her own self indulging in so fondly in her younger years. His gaze becomes hazy again, like he’s on another plane entirely, but she lets him be. For now. 


    Peter knows he’s dressing up a little too much for just a friend. He’s spraying too much strong cologne and gelling his hair excessively and praying you won’t notice the fact that it’ll be dryer than the leaves in the wintertime, but it’s all too much for someone he insists is his best friend and his best friend alone, nothing more and nothing less, certainly not his girlfriend. Never that, right? Peter frowns at his reflection and tilts his head down, rubbing his head in attempt to remove most of the gel that had been a serious mistake in the first place. You preferred his hair curly, anyway. Not that he cared. Not in the slightest. He puts on the sweater that you once said looked lovely on him and he wears his nice jeans, the ones without that stupid hole near the butt cheek that you can’t really see unless you’re trying

   His cheeks flush when May gives a tiny, satisfied smirk upon seeing his perfectly put together outfit. He acts as if no time at all was spent on his appearance, but she knows him, like she knows everything else, and she knows that he’s been holed up in the bathroom for over twenty minutes now trying to see which shirt matched his eyes best and debating the chances of you realizing that this was the sweater you liked the most on him before he put it on and beamed at himself in the mirror. Maybe it was the color or the stitching or the fabric but he was starting to like this one much more, too. 

   “You look very handsome, sweets,” May says to him, squeezing his shoulder as she brushes past him to place a salad on the table. Peter surveys the salad with a strange look on his face. 

   “Why’d you make a salad? Since when does Y/N eat salad?” He raises his eyebrows at her, before adding with haste, “not that I don’t love your salad, Aunt May, ‘cause I do. I promise.”  

   Aunt May places her hands on her hips, peering at him through the tops of her glasses in a way that makes her look too wise for someone as young as she was. “I’m making a good impression, obviously.” 

   “You’ve known her for like ten years now, the time for good impressions is over, May. You missed your chance.”

   “This is the first time I’m seeing Y/N as your girlfriend, though!” Peter lets out the loudest groan imaginable, running his hands over his cheeks and slapping his forehead with great vexation. 

   “Still not my girlfriend,” he insists on insisting, taking the extra plates out of her busy hands and helping to set the small kitchen table. 

   May smooths back a loose strand of hair from his forehead with a kind, teasing grin on her face. “Doesn’t mean you don’t want her to be, kiddo.” 

   He can’t possibly argue with that sort of logic, especially not when his aunt hits the nail right on the head in that peculiar way she has a habit of doing, so he just smiles and kisses May on the cheek. There’s a knock on the door less than a second later, and the pair scramble for the upper hand before Peter beats her to it and nearly flies to grab the handle of it and yank it open so he can greet you accordingly, slightly out of breath with his hair flopping to one quite nicely and a joyous smile making its way across his mouth when he sees you for the first time that day. May hovers earnestly behind him, hands fluttering over her nephew’s shoulders so she can push past him to wrap you in a hug if need be. Sometimes Peter has the impression that May adores you even more than he does; he wasn’t sure if he should be glad for that, or a bit offended that you seemed to return the blatant favoritism with ardency. 

   There was a brief second where your eyes raked over your best friend’s face with soft admiration, hidden as carefully as you could manage. When you met his appreciative gaze you felt the palms of your hands clam up and so you cast your look back to his aunt and playfully pushed past him to give her a hug. 

   Peter, offense overriding his previously somewhat moonstruck expression, backed away from you when you finally turned toward him with your arms outstretched. “Oh, now I get a hug? Interesting,” he rolls his eyes in a teasing manner, unable and unwilling to conceal his little, loving smile that appeared when you pried his arms off his chest and defiantly wrapped them around yourself as you hugged him. “Didn’t seem so interested in hugging me when you were shoving me away to get to May,” he says, craning his neck to stare at you whilst continuing to drag the embrace out for as long as possible. 

   “You’re still my favorite Parker,” you reply, poking his chest lightly. Then you turn away before you can say anything else that could be considered too revealing of certain, carefully concealed feelings that had the possibility of being detrimental to a beautiful friendship that had manifested over the years into something more, but not quite, not yet. “Sort of,” you put as an afterthought, lest he get any ideas about you feeling… something for him. “Anyways, what’s for dinner, May?” You anticipate pasta, and when May announces the dish with a great flourishing of her hand, you grin. Typical, yes, but nothing if not welcomed. 

  Peter, gentleman that he is, pulls out your chair for you, and you let yourself imagine that he’s doing it as a chivalrous boyfriend and not simply a polite friend. He imagines the same, though. Imagines that he’s on a date with you and he pulls out your chair and smiles kindly and lovingly- and he basks in this image for as long as he can. May calls you over then, and the daydream is shattered. You make your way over to her in the kitchen, leaning against the counter. 

   May lowers her voice before speaking, “Y/N, I’m gonna need you to explain something to me,” she starts. You nod, raising your eyebrows at her. “Explain why you and Peter aren’t together yet. Honestly, honey, I just can’t understand it.” She talks with her hands the way Peter does. 

   “Uh- what? I, um, I don’t… understand?” Your voice cracks a little, as if having May practically shove your less than friendly feelings for Peter back in your face wasn’t embarrassing enough. “We’re, um, you know, like, friends.” 

   Her hand waves dismissively, pushing that sentence away. “No, no, see that’s what he said, too! I have to disagree. I know everything, kiddo, and I know that you two are going to make it as a couple, so if that’s what your afraid of, don’t be. Go for it. I see the same thing in him that I see in you right now, and that thing is love. So, I’m going to need you to go make my nephew the happiest kid on Earth and tell him you’re falling in love with him, and you’ll see that he’s going to say the same thing to you. Trust me. Aunt May knows all,” she shrugs in a casual manner, brushing her confidence off, before she steers you around and gently pushes you back toward the tiny dining room table where Peter sits awkwardly fiddling with his thumbs with his lip caught between his teeth. 

   “Hi,” you almost whisper, settling down in your seat across from him. 

   He glances up. “Hey,” he says, smiling again. A reflex, in your presence. He clears his throat, then asks, “So, what’d you and May talk about?” He knows May loves him as if he were her son, which for all intents and purposes he is, but he can’t be sure of her secrecy. He wouldn’t put it past his aunt to let slip “accidentally” that he liked you, loved you, cared for you. 

   You take a sip of your glass of water that Peter must have filled in your absence from the table. You had a tendency to take sips of your drink when in uncomfortable conversations, or conversations you felt nervous in. He notes that. “Oh, um, nothing really… but if were gonna talk about it, I’d wanna do it in, like, private?” You twirl your straw around your drink, mixing the ice in the glass. Peter abruptly stands from his chair. You watch him sling a jacket around his shoulders and throw one of his sweaters at you, which you catch easily. “You wanna go now?” 

   He nods, licking his lips anxiously. “No better time than the present, right?” If you’re going to confront him and crush his heart with a single sentence that stands along the lines of I see you as a friend, he wants it done sooner rather than later. He wants it over with, so he can go back to his suffering in comfortable silence and start an attempt to move past this crush the way he had easily drifted away from his crush on Liz Allan. You fumble with the sweater as you stand. “May, we’re gonna step out for a bit!” Peter announces, opening the front door of his apartment and letting you slip out first. He doesn’t wait for her response before he disappears, too. May watches the two of you leave and feels her heart grow twice its size. 

  You’re standing outside the apartment building ten minutes later in the chilly autumn breeze, thankful for the cologne scented sweater that rests over your body like a warm blanket. Peter’s hands are never cold, and so they linger outside of his pockets as opposed to yours, shoved inside the front pocket of the sweater he’s given you. He reaches for your hands wordlessly and rubs them over his. “You’re always freezing,” he laughs quietly, lacing his fingers through yours with a new burst of confidence that you find endearing as you squeeze his hands. “Hey, wanna know something? You might know it already but, I figure I should tell you myself, if you wanna know.” He swings his hands back and forth, and yours swing along with his. 

   “Yeah, please,” you insist, twisting your head to the side to sweep the windswept hair out of your face. One of Peter’s hands comes up to brush it out of the way, typical and cliche and an overplayed move but none of that matters when the action is being carried out, because it makes your stomach constrict in that funny way and your heart melt into a puddle on the dirty sidewalk. His fingers linger over the softness of your cheek, and he keeps his hand there to see what you’ll say about it. You say nothing, let remain there. “You gonna tell me or not?” 

  “Should I- I could maybe…” he sucks on the bottom of his lip. “Forget it, I don’t know how to speak properly around you like this.” You start to protest, demand he tell you because you won’t be able to stop thinking about this if he doesn’t, but every word dies before it can touch the edge of your lips. Peter has his head lowered down toward you and he’s kissing you, a thought that’s crossed your mind more times than you were able to count but now, it’s happening. Real lips pressed against yours feverishly, shyness forgotten in the heat of the moment. When he pulls away first, it returns and collides with him as if he’s hit a brick wall, and his cheeks burn red. He makes no move to back away, still. “D-Did I step out of line? Was that okay? Do you hate me? ‘Cause if you do we can go back upstairs or you can leave and then on Monday we can pretend that this never happened because you’re still my best friend no matter what even if it’s awkward-” 

   Your hands clasp together around the back of his neck as you yank him down toward you again, and this time you kiss him back. You can feel him smiling so hard it makes it difficult to kiss him, but when you break away to tell him that, he just laughs and smiles harder and keeps kissing you. He doesn’t know how to stop now that’s he had the opportunity. You’re both laughing hysterically and trying to kiss properly and his nose bumps against yours repeatedly, and it’s the most perfect first kiss in the world. 

   He keeps his hand firmly grasped in yours when you go back upstairs to his seventh floor apartment, opens the door for you and everything. May is sitting at the table, turns her head to the both of you and peers at you from the top of her glasses. Peter raises his hand and yours, triumphant. May claps her hands together as he, your boyfriend, declares proudly, “Aunt May, I would like to formally introduce you to my girlfriend, Y/N Y/L/N, who I hope will be sticking around?” He looks to you for reassurance, and gets what he needs from the happy kiss you bestow upon the side of his face. 

   “I told you two I know everything!” Is what breaks the joyous silence, and then the laughter starts again; a perfectly lovely family. 

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Not Voyager or DS9 relate but I really hope Discovery is dark and gritty and actually lives up to some potential something we didn't get from Previous Trek shows. If it does I just may give it a chance.

This isn’t DS9 / VOY in specific, but I still want to address this, because I have some passionate feelings about it.

It sounds like you want A Song of Ice and Star Trek, but that would be as incorrect an approach to the series as it would be if HBO made Game of Thrones without the betrayals, blood, pointless cruelty, and injustice. One of the reasons for the tone of that franchise is because George R. R. Martin is trying to knock down the rose-colored view of medieval times in fantasy. Likewise, one of the reasons for the tone of Star Trek is to oppose the relentless pessimism you find in science fiction.

There are a lot of shows and films with a dark, gritty tone about the future. Half the trailers you see in theaters now are for a world taken over by an oppressive regime, or a world in flames because of what we did to it, or a world in flames and under an oppressive regime, in which kindness and morality are as rare as diamonds and fleeting as desert frost. This is not to say that they are bad, just if you want gritty sci-fi, there is no lacking for options. Star Trek sets itself apart from these stories. Instead of assuming that we will continue being the worst of ourselves, Star Trek dares to propose that we can be the best of ourselves–that we can embrace curiosity, compassion, and knowlege, rather than fear and prejudice and greed. It says that the future can be different if we work for it. It speaks to people who are marginalized and shut out and different and says that they have the right to strive and dream. It speaks to people who are not and says “be better.”

The name of the new ship and the new series is Discovery. Does that sound gritty to you? Doesn’t sound like it to me, and I would be severely disappointed if they went along with the general trend and made a grimdark series.

Here are some things about Star Trek if you believe it has failed to live up to “some potential something,” and maybe you will think twice about giving it a chance.

  • When NASA decided they needed to recruit a more diverse corps of astronauts, they turned to the cast of the Original Series. Mae Jemison, the first African-American woman in space, points to Nichelle Nichols’ Uhura as her inspiration. (Jemison later guest-starred in an episode of TNG, and Star Trek has never stopped inspiring the kids who grow up to be astronauts.)
  • Janeway was the first female captain to lead the show, but there was also B'Elanna, the first female chief engineer who was part of the main cast. Both characters were not only intellectually brilliant but often took the lead when it came time to fight dudes who were between them and the Alpha Quadrant.
  • In the height of the Cold War and its paranoia, Star Trek put a Russian character front and center on the bridge, and that’s why you have fans creating beautiful designs for uniforms with hijabs today.
  • Avery Brooks signed onto Deep Space 9 because he wanted to portray a loving, supportive relationship between a black father and son. He even got them to change the ending of the series over it.
  • Patrick Stewart insisted on not flinching away from the brutal, dehumanizing portrayal of torture in “Chain of Command,” and the writers consulted Amnesty International to make it as harsh and realistic as possible.
  • Aron Eisenberg (Nog) got numerous calls from veterans praising his portrayal of PTSD.
  • And then there is this confession. It is far and away the most liked and reblogged confession on the blog.


I would say that is potential realized.

Star Trek doesn’t just inspire, though. Star Trek confronts. From the very beginning it has held up a mirror to society, and through either allegory or visits to “history” – in other words, the present – calls us out. “Let That Be Your Last Battlefield” with the black-and-white cookie people has their leader shocked that anyone could fail to see the ‘obvious’ point that his counterpart is inferior becuase of his coloration (black… on the left side) and pointedly has diverse actors in the foreground and background, something which they had to fight for. The whole of the Bajoran Occupation arc is about the hideous toll of colonialism and facism. Janeway confronts the question of euthanasia with Quinn, Enterprise has an AIDS allegory, Picard deals with demagogues and religious fantaticism and Kirk advocates respect for life even if it is not as we know it. Deep Space 9 warns of a time when we might shut away the homeless in internment camps not from malice but apathy.

Has Star Trek failed to live up to potential? Oh, you bet. There’s no excuse for the fact that it’s taken until 2016 to have an openly gay character. It has sometimes stood tiptoe on the line of something important and then drawn back. It’s tried to be a future without sexism but also wouldn’t let Mariana Sirtis and Gates McFadden use swords in the Robin Hood episode even though they’re the only ones who actually knew stage fencing. The “cultural expert” on Chakotay turned out to be a white guy who got all his information from Hollywood westerns, a real-life version of the “Apache Tracker” from Night Vale. The times when it does not love up, in other words, is when its bright future is hampered by present-day prejudice… not when it declines to be “gritty.”

Now it’s true that alongside this you have Janeway turning into a lizard and “NO MORE BLAH-BLAHS” and Miles O'Brien versus the shaving cream monster. And quite frankly, those are also an essential part of Star Trek, and I’m pretty sure there are episodes of everyone’s favorite dark and gritty franchises which are relentlessly dumb.

But if you think the point of Star Trek is just the visuals, just the space travel, just the fun of watching Shakespearian actors fling themselves over their leather seats as the camera shakes… you have missed the point of it. It has never been about just what’s on the screen.

Harry Hook - Best Friend

Originally posted by adisneylover92things

Requested By: Anon and @starwarsphantomlover

Request: Jealous Harry.

Authors Note: To the Anon that requested it end in fluff, I hope you’re okay with the ending! It’s not all that fluffy, but it’s all I could come up with, especially with putting two similar requests together! But I still hope you enjoy! Also, I’m very aware that the ending of this is kind of rushed and I apologize!

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

“Thank you SO much Gil! I really appreciate you taking over my shift!” You exclaimed, your hand reaching out and taking your friends hand as you made your way off the lower part of the dock.

“No problem, Y/N!” He smiled, his voice so full of enthusiasm that it sounded as though he was going to burst. “You’ve been put on watch every night this past week. I think you could use a break.”

You laughed, your shoulders bouncing in a ‘what can you do’ type shrug before slouching in acknowledgement. “Well, I guess that’s what happens when you start a fight with Uma.” 

Gil let out a giant laugh, his eyes lighting up in childlike innocence before nudging you in the side.

“Yeah, I guess.” He agreed, quickly taking his sword out of his belt and laying it on his chair. “But you better be careful. She might try to throw you overboard next time, and I don’t think Harry would be able to stop her.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, the image of Harry even trying to stand up to Uma roaming your mind and making you laugh. 

“Harry would let Uma throw me overboard without a second thought.” You joked, not once meaning your words, but knowing that Gil would find them hilarious. 

Gil let out a small giggle, his shoulder nudging yours once again as he led you back into Ursulas Fish and Chips and toward your dorm. 

“Anyway, thanks again, Gil! I really do appreciate this!” You proclaimed, your arms wrapping around Gils’ waist in a friendly hug. “I promise I’ll pay you back somehow.” You playfully winked, the joking nature of your friendship with Gil as innocent as it was flirty. 

“With what? Candy? Popcorn? Candy AND popcorn?” 

“All of it you can eat.” You replied, a small laugh escaping your lips before gently pulling away from him and making your way into your room.

You let out an exhausted sigh, the air heavy against your skin as it warmed you from the cold wetness of the dock. Breathing in deeply, you removed your belt and walked towards your drawer, your hands reaching down and removing you shirt as you prepared to change out of your ‘watch’ clothes. 

Then, suddenly and without any type of warning, a loud bang rang through your room, the sound catching you off guard and making you stop in your tracks. Lifting your shirt so that it covered your barley covered chest, you reached down and grabbed your sword, immedietly pointing towards the entrance and at whoever dared to barge into your room without a reason. That’s when you saw your best friend Harry standing at your door, his eyes staring straight into yours as he completely disregarded the fact that he had walked in on you in a personal state. 

“What the hell, Harry!? I could have killed you!” You shreiked, immedietly throwing down your sword and putting on your shirt.

“C’mon, love. You and I both know that that would never happen.” He slurred, his accent thick and rich in your ears as he made his way inside and shut the door behind him.

You rolled your eyes, quickly making your way over to your bed in order to take off your shoes. 

“Yeah, whatever. What are you doing here?” 

Harry breathed in deeply before making his way closer to you, his eyes showing an intense amount of anger that you weren’t used to seeing from him. 

“What’s your problem?” You questioned, a light giggle leaving your lips as you assumed he came to rant about something Uma made him do.

Harry cocked his head to the side, his lips curling into a playful smile as he stood mere inches from you. 

“Are you and Gil dating now?” He questioned, anger and sarcasm heavy on his voice as his darlky outlined eyes bored straight into yours. 

“No.” You laughed, immedietly pushing him out of your way and heading to your closet to put away your shoes. 

You had never even considered the idea of you and Gil dating, and you didn’t understand why anyone else would either. Gil was one of your best friends, and you did seem to playfully flirt with him a lot, but still. Everyone on the Isle knew that you’ve had a thing for Harry for years now. You were in love with him and it was completely obvious.

To everyone but Harry, that is.

“Really?” Harry suddenly continued to question, the glare from his hook bouncing off the wall and shining into your eyes as he made his way over to you. “Then what’s with all the hugging, huh? And the flirty comments?” He asked, leaning against the wall beside you. “I saw you just now, and people don’t talk like that with people that are just friends.”

“Then you obviously don’t have very many friends, do ya stud?” You joked, a small shrug leaving your shoulders as you heard him give you an angry sigh. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Harry. Gil and I aren’t dating.” You continued, not understanding why he would care so much about it in the first place. “Besides, why is it any of your business who I date?”

Harry looked at you in disbelief, his eyebrows furrowed in a strange mixture of shock and anger before he leaned away from the wall and hovered over you.

“Damn, Y/N. Are you really that blind?” He seethed, his voice so full of venom that you felt as though you’d been bitten.

“Hey, back off.” You demanded, completely confused as to what had made Harry so mad at you all of a sudden. You and Harry had had plenty of fights during your friendship, but he had never been angry at you. Not like this. 

But the fact that he was angry at you wasn’t even the problem. It was what he was angry about. He had no reason to question you about your completely non-romantic relationship with Gil, and if anyone had a right to be mad, it was you for his complete inability to see that the only person you wanted to date was standing right in front of you.

“What the hell’s your problem, Harry? Why are you questioning me all of a sudden?” You asked, quickly walking over to him and poking him in the chest. “Besides, you may be my best friend, but you don’t have the right to get angry with me about something as personal as dating. That’s none of your business.”

“Best friend? Just…seriously, Y/N? Don’t you see that that’s the problem!” He scoffed, his eyes becoming glassy as his anger turned into disbelief.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You asked, confusion filling your face as you questioned why your friendship was suddenly a problem for him.

“Because…” He started loudly, his voice fading to a whisper as he realized what he was about to say. “Because I just…” He continued, not being able to find the right words as his eyes traveled across your confused stricken face. “Oh, screw it.” He breathed, his hands suddenly reaching out and bringing his face towards yours.

Letting out a surprised squeal, you couldn’t help the shock that crossed your face as Harry’s lips connected with yours. You were frozen for a moment, your eyes wide open and looking into space before you finally gave in and kissed him back.

The kiss was slow at first, the deep flavor of sweat and saltwater heavy on your tongue as you pulled him closer to you. Harry pressed against you softly, his hands quickly leaving your face and wrapping around your waist as he lightly dug his hook into your lower back.

Giving you a relieved sigh, Harry removed his hook from behind your back and pressed you against the wall, his hot tongue immedietely making its way towards your lips as your nails ran diligently down his sides.

Letting out a gasp, you pulled away, the need for air becoming too strong as your mind tried to register what exactly was going on. 

“I…I um…” You started, your speech completely gone as you tried to figure out what to say.  “I..I -”

“That,” Harry interrupted, his face mere inches from yours as he continued to press against you. “That’s why I wanted to know.”

Inked - Part 1

Peter Parker x Reader

soulmate au: you and your soulmate have tattoos that represent the others interests that tingle when you two are close to one another

word count: 2,273

Originally posted by hardyness

A/N this is honestly written for @parkerbpete, since she inspires me to write so much, like i love her work and ugh, she is my writing senpai. i love her and yea, hope you all like

——————————

Ink stained across your arm forming an intricate sleeve, a tattoo filled with things your soulmate was interested in, that would fluctuate from time to time. You remember that before it was filled with electron diagrams, pi and other math symbols, chemical structural formulas, and things you couldn’t recognize, all coming together to form a science themed tattoo sleeve, but now all that changed. Some tattoos fading to make space for your soulmate’s newest interests, which mainly consisted of the newest superhero to join the scene, Spiderman. Spidey’s logo was now on your bicep, a small avenger’s logo on the base of your wrist, a crest that matched the iron man suit, and spider webs lacing the new tattoos with the old. But the one thing that never changed was the writing that surrounded your wrist that was written in their writing, “always be yourself”

You had the vague idea that your soulmate attended Middletown with you, since the only time the writing on your wrist seemed to tingle, was walking down the corridors of school. But you always thought against finding them, having the idea that they were better off without you. Plus after spending hours staring at your tattoos, you felt that you two would have nothing in common. You may have been smart enough to attend Middletown; however your interests were more inclined to herbs and plants, not science.

So you made the decision to not look for your soulmate, because if they didn’t bother looking for you, then it only proves they didn’t need you in their life. So you would just continue walking down the halls, knowing that someone at school could also feel the tingling sensation on their arm.

You were gathering your supplies to tend your rooftop garden before you headed to sleep, however the last thing that you expected was to see Spiderman on your rooftop. The red and blue hero was resting against the brink ledge, as he clutched his arm, seeing a few gashes on the suit.  

“Spiderman are you ok?” setting down your supplies.

A groan escaped his lips, his body trying to become alert, but couldn’t with how tired he felt. He shook his head, “no, but I’ll be fine in a bit” trying to sound heroic but failing in the process.

You quickly went over to the small first aid kit, knowing that although it wasn’t built for serious injuries, there were still supplies for simple cuts and injuries from when you would nick yourself while tending your garden, “I seriously doubt that.”

As you approached Spiderman, small tingles ran up your arm, as the writing on your wrist started to feel warmer with each passing step. Your heart sped up knowing the reason why your arm was tingling, but right now his injuries mattered more than asking him if he was your soulmate. You gently set your supplies down, being mindful of where he was hurting and ignoring his intense gaze. Your hands were slightly trembling, anxious of being so close to him that you started to question if you could do this. You weren’t sure if you were nervous because you were near Spiderman or near your soulmate. Your licked your lips and emptying your thoughts, reaching out for his right arm, and the moment you touched it, you felt the warm spark run across your arm, confirming the small doubts in your mind, this really was your soulmate.

You didn’t do anything to call attention to it, and focused on the gashes on his suit, seeing the scarlet liquid staining not only the suit but the pale skin underneath. You reached for gauze and peroxide, “this may sting a bit,” the bottle still trembling in your hand, reminding yourself to keep calm.

You looked up at Spidey, wanting some sort of confirmation that he was ok with this. He nodded, and you started to pour the liquid over his wound. A hiss escaped his lips, as the water met the raw skin. You gently started to pat the area dry, making sure that the wound was clean before you moved on to the next. Your whole right arm never stopped sending the small sparks, that you wondered how he could keep his composure, when you were almost a nervous wreck. You looked up at him, meeting the visors that covered his eyes, but it didn’t lessen the speed of your heart or the warmth that was spreading across your face.

“That’s a nice sleeve,” his voice finally filling the silence that surrounded both of you.

“Thanks…it’s based on my soulmate,” your voice coming out as a whisper.

His gloved hand traced over the writing, before he started to travel up the rest of the sleeve, making your heart go into overdrive and your skin so sensitive to his touch, making you bite down on your lower lip, but you didn’t dare ask him to stop. “I know,” his voice no longer sounding hurt, “my arm is filled with flowers,” his hand now tracing over one spider webs.

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Unbearable || Peter Parker Imagine

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Request:  Could you write an imagine where the reader is Tony Stark’s daughter and is dating Peter Parker and something happens between them, either like assuming the other one cheated and idk one or the other is hurt and idk i wonder what the situation would end up being like? Thank you!

Word Count: 1752 words

Originally posted by fuckyeahtonystark

(i think I’ve used this gif before but there aren’t many left)

For a couple of weeks now, Y/N has noticed how her boyfriend, Peter, has been getting closer and closer to her best friend Liz. He used to always eat lunch with Y/N and sit next to her in classes. Now, he’s doing that with the perfect Liz Allen. Sometimes, the young girl thought that Peter was dating her for her last name. Stark. Y/N wasn’t jealous of her friend, just envious of the attention she was getting from Peter. Y/N wanted to get closer to her boyfriend again, and she didn’t know what to do.

One day when she went over to Peter’s house, he was being awfully distant. Y/N knew about his alter ego Spider-Man because his relationship with her dad. She knew that was part of the reason why he was bailing on dates but, he would always try to make time with Y/N at least three times a week. That all changed the day he started hanging out with Liz more. The couple only hang out once a week now. So, while she sat on his bed, all she could think about was how he was most likely cheating on her.

“Peter?” She asked quietly. He was on his phone, by his desk, barely paying attention to the girl who was breaking inside. “Hm?” He muttered, smiling at his phone. He tapped the screen lightly to, what Y/N could gather, text someone back.

“Who are you texting?” She asked softly again, looking down at her legs hanging off the edge of the bed. Peter stuttered, “It’s n-no one.” He put his phone down to give his girlfriend his full undivided attention.

“We need to talk Peter.” She forced out, looking him in the eye. “Isn’t that what we’re doing now?” He chuckled at his own statement.

“I mean about us Peter!” Y/N said, angrier than before. This surprised Peter. She was never normally…. angry. Y/N exhaled, trying to keep her cool.

“W-What about us?” He stuttered, “I thought we were doing fine.”

“You’ve been ditching me Peter but, not to protect the city. To hang out with my best friend. And don’t try to deny it cause I see pictures of you guys on her Snapchat all the time.” She sniffled. Peter sighed, “Y/N,” he said shaking his head slightly, standing up to go sit next to her. Before he could complete his statement, she interrupted, “Are you cheating on me with Liz?” She asked.

He shook his head yet again, grabbing her face with both of his hands, turning her towards his. “No, it’s…..it’s not like that.” Y/N got out of his grasp by standing up. Tears started to escape her eyes.  

“Then what’s it like Peter?” She demanded, crossing his arms. Peter sat there on his bed, trying to think of an answer. “It’s just,” he couldn’t continue. He didn’t know what to say.

“It’s just what?” Y/N questioned, getting loud again. Peter looked at his hands.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Y/N.” He couldn’t tell her his plan. Not yet. She’ll forgive me though, he thought. She scoffed, uncrossing her arms to grab her stuff. Before she left his bedroom, she turned to look at him. “You know what Peter,” she scoffed, “Liz is all your’s now.” she spat, slamming his bedroom door.

Y/N scurried towards the front door of the apartment. May was sitting on the couch, watching the girl leave. She smiled sadly, “Bye May,” she opened the door but stopped at the sound of his voice. “Y/N,” He said from across the room with a sad look on his face. “Goodbye, Peter.” She slammed the door not looking back.

School the next day was awful for both Peter and Y/N. Peter had no girlfriend to constantly boast about and Y/N had no one to kiss or greet by her locker in the morning. At lunch, Y/N sat with Liz, not saying anything to her with her friends not speaking as well. Liz broke the silence, “I heard you and Peter broke up.“She said sympathetically. Y/N scoffed, “Let me guess, he told you? Did he tell you why?” Liz nodded her head, “He isn’t cheating on you Y/N.” She said looking at the girl honestly.

“Well obviously he isn’t cause we aren’t together, which means he can date anyone he wants. Including you.” Y/N said, grabbing her lunch and moving to sit somewhere away from Liz, and away from Peter. He saw Y/N stand up, angrily and move away from her best friend. This was all his fault.

Later that day, when Peter arrived at the Avengers tower, Tony was furious. Tony walked with Peter into his lab, grabbing the boy by the color of his shirt viciously. “I’ll give you ten seconds to explain why you cheated on my little girl.” He said with venom lacing his voice.

“That’s not what happened, Mr. Stark. I swear.” Peter expressed with a worried tone.. Tony let go of his collar glaring at him. “Then why has Y/N been crying her eyes out?”

Peter rubbed his face with his hands wanting all of this to just blow over. He hated the fact that it was HIS fault as to why the love of his life wasn’t smiling. “Liz was helping me with something…” Peter trailed off, making the genius confused. “Is that a euphemism for sex or something?” Tony grimaced.

“No! No, oh god no. Nothing like that.” Peter said in shock and slight disgust. “What was it then?” Tony crossed his arms, just like Y/N did last night.

Peter sighed, “Liz is Y/N’s best friend so I went to her for advice.”

“For what?” Tony asked, less agitated at the young superhero standing in front of him. Peter looked at his shoes while bouncing on his feet. “I needed help for asking your daughter to Homecoming, so I thought, who knows her better than she knows herself and I thought Liz. That’s all we were doing Mr. Stark.” He said sadly, realizing that all the help he was getting didn’t matter because he wasn’t with his girl anymore.

Tony was still confused, “Couldn’t you have Googled ideas?” He asked,knowing now that it was all a misunderstanding between the juvenile lovers. Peter shook his head.

“It’s not that easy Mr. Stark. I thought maybe Y/N wanted a subtle way to be asked to the dance. But what if she wanted something completely extraordinary. That’s why I went to Liz. But I wasn’t with her constantly. I was with her handful of lunch periods, and we went to Starbucks to talk about it once. Only once.” He explained. Dropping his backpack on the floor.

“How do you plan on asking her?” Tony questioned walking around his lab.

“We’re not together anymore…..” Peter said as if Tony wasn’t listening to the conversation, following the man around the lab. Tony turned around to face Peter. “I don’t care, You were good for her. And I don’t want her dating some idiot. Now, how are you going to ask her?” He questioned Peter yet again.Peter had a big smile on his face, ready to tell him.

That night, there was a knock on Y/N’s window. It wasn’t too late at night, but she knew exactly who it was. “Go away.” She said, loud enough for him to hear her through the window. He tapped on the glass again, “Go away!” She said slightly louder. The tapping continued much to her dismay. Y/N groaned and got up off of her bed to open the window.

She looked through the glass to see Peter Parker, or Spider-Man, hanging upside down on a web, holding a huge teddy bear and roses in one hand with a poster in the other that said, “It would be unBEARable to go to Homecoming without you” in red letters. Y/N froze, looking at him with wide eyes. He flipped over and let go of the webbing.

She opened the window, helping the boy through it and into her room. “Peter, what the hell? We aren’t a thing anymore, remember?” She said a bit agitated. Peter put the poster down, grabbing his mask off of his face, shaking his head to fix his hair. “I swear that I didn’t cheat on you with Liz, alright? She was just helping me with ideas to ask you to Homecoming.” Peter admitted, wanting her to know the truth. Y/N had a more understanding look in her eyes.

“Then why were you bailing on all of our dates?” She asked.

“Crime rates have gone up in New York, despite everyone’s effort to stop it. Trust me, I wanted to go on those dates with you, it’s just- someone needs to be there for the city after the whole hero versus hero thing.” He rushed. “Please, you have to believe me.” He said sadly.

Y/N ran to him, wrapping her arms around him. Peter let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “I’m such an asshole,” the girl in his arms mumbled against his shoulder, “I should’ve listened to you. I’m so sorry.” Peter rubbed one hand on her back reassuringly holding his gifts for her in the other. “There’s no need to apologize. I would’ve done the same thing though.” He stated honestly. The two pulled away from each other.

Peter moved to pick up the poster to show her again. He had a cheesy grin on his face as he held everything. “Will you go to homecoming with me?” He asked. Y/N nodded her head, “Of course I will.”

Peter went to hand her the teddy bear and the roses. “You know what you should name him?“ Peter asked rhetorically. “What?” She asked with a smile on her face, smelling the flowers.

“Spider-Man.” He said with a smirk on his face, “So that I’m always with you.” Y/N chuckled, examining the bear. “I think it suits him.” She mimicked his smirk, leaning in to kiss the real Spider-Man

Friday May 26th

I hadn’t had any new moments with my son due to his growing love for his little girlfriend. When my hubby and middle daughter would leave the house to us for what would have a carnal experience with son faded as he went out with her. Then mid-May came and my oldest was home from college, another schedule to try to work around. I was beginning to feel as though this was going to be a long summer, perhaps I should get out and cheat on my hubby like before, do something to fight off this mundane housewife existence.  

 My hubby needed to fly out early on the 26th, my two youngest were days away from being out school for the summer, leaving my oldest and me to workout, do lunch, and some shopping. During lunch she surprised me by telling me was going to her father’s this weekend with her sister. She felt that she had gone to college she should give him another chance at being a father. I wished her luck.

 That meant I would be alone at home tonight as I sure Adam would be seeing Amy. I began running names through my head of men I could text and begin to lure to me. Later in the evening I was proven right as the girls left the house shortly after Adam did…I was alone and unsupervised. I ate a salad and mixed myself a drink of grapefruit vodka and 7up.

I texted two men from my list and one answered immediately. By 9pm we had joked, flirted, hinted, sexted, and sent pics to one another. I was well on my way to having this friend’s husband do to me what she wouldn’t allow.

I was a bit tipsy and more a than a little turned on when the second guy finally answered his text and I began working them both.

By 10:30 I had sent pics to both men and insinuated that I needed a good hard fucking from them (separately of course, although I have a fantasy about multiple men) when I heard the front door open and close and the jingle of keys being put away. I called down stairs and received no answer. I excused myself from the texting hard-ons saying family was close by as I went to investigate the intruder. I show little fear in these situations usually because I’m tipsy and I also have a rape fantasy. I came down stairs in my usual summer nighttime apparel of a t-shirt and panties, searching around I found my son, Adam, sitting the dark media room.

 “Baby, what’s wrong?” I asked and between sniffles he tells me about him and Amy breaking up tonight. She explained she was feeling stifled or smothered by his attentions, which likely means she was looking for alone time to see someone else…not unlike me.

That little bitch. And just 3 days before his 17th birthday.

 We talked about the sad realities of life and young love (all love really) and while only time makes the heartache fade understanding seems to assure him he will be ok, in time.

 I suggested he shower and relax and I’ll make him a drink to help him sleep. Like the good boy he is, my son obeys. His shower done quickly, his night clothes (tank top and basketball shorts) on over bare feet, he returns to the kitchen to accept his vodka and 7up from me. We return to the darkened media room and continue our talk. It is now close to midnight and he is again crying over the loss of a young love, the alcohol lowering his inhibitions and loosening the tight grip he often keeps on his emotions. I rub his shoulders and speak soft words letting him know it may not seem like it now, but in time this may make him a better partner.

He tells me he is done with dating and love, no one needs this pain. In the darkness where I’m sure he cannot see I smile a soft knowing smile that he knows not what he speaks of.

He continues to softly cry and like when he was young I lie back and pull down on top of me to let him cry on my chest.

While he cries he softly he nuzzles and moves across my breasts making me remember that not too long ago I was so horny I was about to use my trusty latex vibrating lover to relieve some long pent up frustration. I shifted and slid one leg under him so that he was now lying between my legs with his head still on my chest. I gently stroked his back and the hair on his head while he cried. At some point he realized where his head was and he stopped crying and began nuzzling in earnest.

“Baby, it’s ok…I’m here for you and I always will be. I love you.”

“I love you too, mom, but I feel so alone.”

“I know baby, but I’m right here…you can feel me.”

 He nuzzled at my breasts a little more. I pulled his head up and I kissed him softly at first a kiss that might have been motherly, but our second and third kisses were not so motherly. I opened my mouth inviting his tongue inside and he did not disappoint me. I spread my legs wide using my heels to pull him towards me and I could feel his growing erection for me. He slid his hand beneath my shirt and fondled my breast, tweaking my nipple. I pulled him close for another kiss and I reached down and pushed his shorts towards his feet, hooking the band with my toes I stripped them to his ankles. He pulled clumsily at my shirt, which I pulled over my head and threw to the floor. He suckled my breasts, both us panting from the adrenalin coursing through us. I could feel the head of his young, hard cock pressing against my panties wanting in, wanting  to feel my hot wetness surrounding him. I drove my heels into his buttocks like I was using spurs on a horse to drive him forward only I wanted to drive him, my son, deep into me.

He looked up from my breasts, his eyes still red from crying and leaned forward to kiss me again. I reached down between us and slid my panties to one side. As we kissed deeply I opened my legs wide, tilted my hips at just the right angle, and I again spurred my young stallion to drive deep.

And he did.

I think both of us were a bit surprised, despite everything, when my son’s cock entered my tight wet hole. We stopped kissing and looked into each other’s eyes for a split second, then I spurred him again and my son fucked me hard. He grunted and strained his strong young body against mine. Thrusting so hard that I was sure he would bruise my tender bits and pieces my son arched his back, grunted, and came deep inside me.

 My heart soared.

 After a while of breathing heavy and holding each other he shifted and like all the times we have been intimate before he began to try to escape the situation, but I held on to him.

We sat up together and he reached for his shorts, but I placed my foot on them and wouldn’t let him raise them to cover himself. Topless, I pushed him back on the couch and I straddled him. My breasts swaying as I sat there, my dripping vagina on his quickly growing hard on. His erection reemerged and I positioned myself so that when his cock stood up, I slid down on to it. Our second session of loving making was less hurried and more gentle. It lasted quite a bit longer than our first time and ended with him cumming in my mouth.

I love the taste of our sex.

 Afterwards we walked hand in hand to the master bathroom and showered together much the same way I have showered with my husband only when I soaped up my young son he again began to get hard. I gave him a wonderful soapy handjob, rinsed him off good, led him by his cock to my husband’s bed and again I straddled him taking him deep inside me. As my hips rocked back and forth, my breasts swayed for him to watch, and late into the night my son came a third time inside me.

The Void Inside Me (NSFW 18+)

A/N: This idea was sprouted by one of those ads we’re the two people are texting about something really agnsty or suspenseful and you have to download the app to see the whole story. I loved the idea so much and thought no one would be more suited for it than Void. I want to thank @writing-obrien for seriously helping me out with this when I was completely stumped. Also @celestial-writing because this fic would not be finished if it weren’t for her motivating me to push through up until the very end. And @sarcasticallystilinski too for all her feedback. I think they all edited this at some point too so thank you beautiful babes, I love you all more than most. Lastly, Koneko is Japanese for kitten so says google translater. I’m sorry if I got that wrong.

Warnings: Smut; choking.

Word Count: 6860

|Masterlist|

Originally posted by teendeucalion

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hugealienpie  asked:

I see prompts are open yay! Please tell me all about Ford finding out about Bitty and Jack.

Ooh, this is interesting, because I don’t feel like it’d be an announcement, but just something Ford finds out when Jack visits or the like. I mean, it could go the other way, like Lardo could be, “heads up, Bitty’s dating our ex-captain” and Ford would be like, “okay? why are you telling me?” (She’s a theatre background, what is a Bad Bob to her?) I think she’d be pretty chill with it, and coming from theatre, like being gay is not an issue, esp in college (and even at the professional level) and esp if we go with the oft reblogged “Ford is gay” headcanon.

But here is a small fic that is only half based on the above…

Ford double checks the dozens of pages Lardo has given her for the upcoming roadie. She thought dealing with dressing room allocation was hard (and it is, one hundred percent) but figuring out room allocations is somehow worse, particularly when she’s new, and hockey players are more superstitious than the girl who played Johanna in Sweeney.

“So, who was it I’m meant to pair Oliver with?” Ford asks, grabbing for the red pen she’d stuck into her bun earlier. She comes out with a green one. It’ll do.

“Wicks. But really, he’d be fine with any of the guys in his year.”

Ford makes a note on one of the pages. “Okay, then I think I’m–Oh, shit.”

“What is it?” Lardo looks up from her sketchbook.

Ford double checks through all her sheets before she says anything. She’s not worrying, because there’s no time for that, she’s just already hating the amount of extra work she’ll need to do to fix things.

“I’ve left Eric, um, Bitty,” Ford corrects herself, still getting used to hockey nicknames, “off the rooming list.”

“Oh, that. Nah, you’re good.” Lardo goes back to her drawing. “He stays with his boyfriend when we’re playing up there.”

“Boyfriend?” Ford double-checks.

“Yeah. He’s in Providence. And he’ll drive Bitty to the games and practices and stuff. Should’ve emailed you that. My bad.”

“That’s fine.” Ford grabs another pen from her hair, forgetting she already has one in front of her. It’s red this time. “Just thought I was going to have to redo an entire afternoon’s worth of work.”

“Right,” Lardo says. “I can see why the minor freak out.”

“Excuse you, I did not freak out.” It’s half a lie. Ford has so many notes on these sheets, but she’s not freaking out, she’s managing. It’s all part of it.

Lardo looks up and smiles at her. “Knew you’d be fine at this.”

Ford takes the compliment with a gracious nod, and goes back to ticking off the rooming list against the team names. All accept Eric.

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STRAP IN, YOU GUYS, BECAUSE I HAVE BEEN SCREAMING FOR SOME POST-THOR: RAGNAROK FIC AND YOU BETTER BELIEVE I’M GONNA SCREAM SOME MORE WHEN I FIND IT, BECAUSE THERE’S SOME AMAZING STUFF HERE ALREADY.

THOR: RAGNAROK FIC RECS:
home through shadows journeying by Etharei, thor/loki, NSFW, ragnarok spoilers, 3.5k
   Life on the ship is a lot like being in limbo.
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From The Ashes by IAmJustAlways (ThirtySeven), thor/loki & valkyrie & cast, ragnarok spoilers, 4.9k wip
   His people could now fit into a single hall in a space ship, and so many of them were children. Too many young faces would grow up without Asgard even as a memory. Of Asgard’s great, famed warriors there was only he and the Valkyrie left. How many healers with Asgard’s secrets resided in this hall, broken? How many of the mighty sorcerers? He had never cared much for books and things metaphorical, but in that moment Thor was ready to weep for all the knowledge lost in Asgard’s great Library.
gage by spookykingdomstarlight, thor/loki, ragnarok spoilers, 3.8k
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followed you down by homovikings, thor/loki & asgardians, ragnarok spoilers, 1.3k
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put out the flames by finalizer, thor/loki & avengers, ragnarok spoilers, 7.2k
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two by homovikings, thor/loki, ragnarok spoilers, ~1k
   They move as one.
better stop and rebuild all your ruins by ohliamylia, thor & loki, ragnarok spoilers, 1.3k
   Thor and Loki regroup. Immediate post-movie tag.
might as well be strangers (but oh, i don’t want to) by EllaYuki, thor/loki, ragnarok spoilers, ~1k
   as they make their way to commandeer a ship out of sakaar, loki and thor have a conversation in an elevator. (loki’s point of view during the elevator scene.)
Bookie’s post-hug fic by thebookhunter, thor/loki, NSFW, ragnarok spoilers, 2.9k
   Thor has no intention to stop hugging. Fine by Loki. Like, really, *really* fine.

full details + recs under the cut!

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anonymous asked:

Do you think they're going to end up killing Shiro just like in the original?

I really don’t, and my answer has surprisingly little to do with how much I like Shiro and am rooting for him. I have a lot of thoughts on this so I’m going to break them into categories.

This turned into a monster of a post, but, hopefully that’ll help people sleep at night a little better?

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GoTG Meet Avengers


Peter stares, watching them all a little blankly. By his side, Tony has his head in his hands. He’s been groaning for the past twenty seconds.


“So… you went on a ten-year murder spree where you joined a terror organisation of your own free will in order to kill Tony, who wasn’t even responsible for the death of your parents in the first place- and then decide that just Tony isn’t murderous enough for you, and go for the rest of his team for some reason, too?”

Across the room, Wanda bristles. “It wasn’t like-”

“And then your team leader let you on the team you were trying to murder? Almost immediately after the one single fight you helped them with?” Gamora interrupts. Her eyes are cold and dangerous. 

Steve opens his mouth to defend himself, but Drax cuts in. “And you,” he gestures harshly at clint, “you were willing to abandon your family and get yourself arrested, just so you could involve yourself in a matter that did not concern you anyway?”

“You think I wanted to be arrested? That was all Tony-” Clint begins, but Drax roars, and Clint rears back, eyes wide and hand reaching for the bow at his hip.

“TONY STARK DID NOT FORCE YOU TO BREAK YOUR LAWS! I WAS PUT IN JAIL BECAUSE I FOUGHT FOR MY FAMILY, NOT-”

“Drax, stay calm. These people are breakable,” Gamora warns, although she is staring at them all as if she wants nothing better than to let Drax get himself worked up over them. 

“You know, Tony has only been giving you his view on everything that happened,” Steve counters. He’s looking at Tony like… like he’s disappointed in him, and that’s enough to get Rocket yelling angrily.

“Oh, so you sayin’ you didn’t tear the team he invested his time, his love, his effort into, apart- all so you could save a guy that Tony had offered to rehabilitate in the first place anyway? Or what about the fact you didn’t tell him that your best bud murdered his parents? That a lie too?” He snarls, and on his shoulder, Groot’s arms are slowly growing, pricklier and heavier- he can feel the weight on his shoulders.

“I think everyone needs to calm down, here-” Sam begins, but Gamora silences him, knuckles cracking as she steps forward.

Sam, wisely, takes a step back.

 “You do not get to talk- not when you chose to put your trust in a man you met for three seconds, whilst he was breaking into Tony’s compound, over the actual Avenger and team-mate himself,” she hisses, hands thrown up into the air as she turns to face all of them now.

“You sicken me. I may fight and argue and be frustrated with my team- but at the end of the day, they are still my family. They are still the people I would trust without a second thought,” she shoots a glare at Sam, “who I would always tell the truth to, even if it hurts,” Steve looked at the floor, jaw set in a grim line, “and who I would never, ever ask to be on the same team as a woman who subdued them to their worst fears and tried to kill them. I would rather die.”

She spat on the floor, and then turned away. “I am going back to the ship. You may continue your discussions if you must, but I am finished. I will only kill one of them if this continues.”

“That would be a shame,” Drax says quietly, his voice low and threatening.

Tony, who spent the majority of the conversation absolutely silent, speaks up at that point. “Hey! Drax used sarcasm!”

No one laughs. He goes back to holding his head in his hand.

Peter just looks slightly sick. His hand is wrapped very, very tightly around Tony’s.


“You know that post of text that Tony showed us a few weeks ago? He called it a… a me-me? With the breadsticks and the asshole date?” Rocket pipes up after a few seconds of silence, gun still spinning ominously in his fingers. “I think it’s time for us to shove Tony in our spaceship and say we have to go, right now, immediately.”


Despite everything, Tony lets a huff of laughter escape at that. Peter- seeming to suddenly snap out of his horrified trance- nods his head approvingly, beginning to tug on Tony’s hand. “Yes. I agree. Wonderful though this diplomatic meeting of teams was, I’m afraid we have urgent business to attend to. We have to… show Tony… something awesome.”

“Yes. LOVE, AFFECTION AND VALIDATION!” Drax roars again, curling an arm around Tony’s shoulders and placing the most violent and angry kiss possible on top of his hair.

“Later, losers!” Rocket calls out, sticking his middle finger up behind him and then turning to punch Tony’s thigh gently before scarpering back to the ship.

Groot hops down from Rocket and then latches on to Tony’s forearm, clambering up his arm until he was resting on Tony’s shoulder instead. Tony glances over at him and grins happily. He’s always had a bit of a soft spot for Groot.

“hey,” he whispers, as the tiny tree alien quickly began to grow a few flowers, and then plucked them off his hand and tucked them into Tony’s hair. “I am Groot,” he whispers right back in reply.

Tony smiles, rolling his eyes. “Yeah yeah, I know. Don’t worry about them- I left them behind a long time ago.”


Steve hears that. He looks at tony for a long time, his eyes a little sad and regretful.


Tony just stares right back, and then raises his eyebrows and shrugs, adjusting the beginning of the flower-crown Groot was making for him.

“Call me the next time it gets too much for you guys to handle,” he calls out after them, as Peter and Drax both steer him hurriedly back toward the ship and away from his old team.

Groot giggles on his shoulder, and then places another flower behind his ear. “I am Groot!”


“I agree,” Tony says, just as Peter nods his own approval, gently bumping their shoulders together. “Let’s go and play Space-Tag.”

The Problem [m]

Genre : smut
summary : Listen, you really hadn’t meant to think of your friend whilst you got off, but it happened.

“Just tell me. I promise I won’t tell anyone else - it’s not me is it?”

“No!”

You said it far too quick. Damn.

 You could feel him moving closer. “Oh … that’s a twist.”

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Shakespeare (Part I)

(Banner made by the incredibly talented @tiostyles)

Harry X Reader (AU)

In which Harry is a poetic frat boy who just so happens to be the TA for your new English class.

Author’s note: This is gonna be a multi-part fic!! I’m really excited for it and would love any and all feedback. I hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing. Xo


You aren’t a newbie, but your frazzled appearance might portray you that way.

Autumn air nips at your cheeks as you rush around the corner and continue along the edge of the sidewalk. Your feet carry you around other students who aren’t as pressed for time. They give you amused side-glances  as you hustle into the entrance of the closest brick building.

This was supposed to be your semester, the one where you get to class early and rewrite your notes by hand and get straight As. But one-too-many snoozed alarms later and your first day of classes has become your worst nightmare.

You take the stairs two at a time, and are rushing through the doorway to the second floor when you slam full force into a particularly solid shoulder. You’re knocked off balance and a flurry of papers careen through the air to scatter the floor around you.

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Dirty, Pretty Things

Hey guys! I hope that everyone is having a supremely good day today! I’m sorta shy to post this because I’ve never written a sexy-time before, but I gave it a go lol. Basically, Tom and the reader go to the library and Tom gets a little frustrated by the book the reader picks out for him, and then, sexy-time ensues. I hope you like it!

Dirty, Pretty Things

He had lost her within the sea of words that had engulfed them both.

When Tom had first entered the grand library, the sight of so many shelves completely drenched in knowledge blew his eyes wide open. She, on the other hand, had immersed herself, diving in and out of shelves quickly, and coming out with towering stacks of novels. Tom watched, hands in his pockets, as she piled the literature as high as it could go without falling.

Grabbing her readings, he moved them to a secluded corner, where he sat down on the floor to wait for her to come back to him.

As she fluttered about, rushing in between sections and up and down staircases, her skin gave off a soft sheen of champagne that he knew came from her ridiculously expensive highlighter. The heels of her boots tapped anxiously across the floor. Sounding as though they were afraid they’d only be granted a set amount of time to wander through the library. The straps of the dress his girlfriend wore began to slip off her shoulders and she failed to fix them to their proper place again. When she bent down, Tom noticed that her position revealed a more than generous amount of her legs. He bit his lip and tried to ignore how alluringly endearing she looked.

Tom loved to watch her like this. She looked incredibly at home nestled inside the library’s massive selection of books. She wasn’t worried about other people, or how they could be perceiving her. Instead, her only focus was on choosing the best and most interesting novel to read.

After about forty minutes, she finally came back to him, carrying four more books in her hands.

“I picked some out for you to read as well,” she said, nestling decisively underneath his arm.

Due to the spot Tom had secured, she was sat directly next to the left corner of the wall with Tom cuddled into her right side. Tom beamed at her and pressed an open mouthed kiss to her lips. “What did you get for me darling?”

“Well, firstly, I grabbed you the first Harry Potter book because I think that it’s absolute insanity that you haven’t read it yet. Then, I grabbed Horns and The Shining, in case your in the mood for horror, but, if all else fails, maybe you could try Hidden Bodies or Dirty, Pretty Things?” She began to ramble on about why she had selected each novel and then stopped short. “Oh, shit, I should go back and bring you Fight Club, I really think that-.” Tom quickly wrapped an arm around her middle, securing her back down on the floor.

“No, no, I’m excited to read Dirty, Pretty Things. That’s the poetry book you’ve been off about with Kaylee, right? I want to read that one.” Tom watched her pull the thin, pink book out of the stack to hand to him.

She looked shy handing it over to him. As soon as his hands slid over the front cover, she quickly interjected, “you may not like it, but the words are just lovely and they make me,” she stopped short and shuddered.

Tom quirked a brow, “oh yeah? Better get started then.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead and rustled her hair.

Tom watched as she leaned forward and bit her lip, trying to decide what she wanted to read first. Eventually, she settled on A Tale For the Time Being and curled up against his chest.

Tom’s eyes skimmed over poem after poem, and he began to understand why she spoke so much about it, just not directly to him. The book was written about love, and carnal attraction and she was forever timorous.

The poetry in Dirty, Pretty Things was beginning to get to him, especially when he thought about her reading it. Michael Faudet’s words were dulcet and enticing, and Tom imagined whispering them softly into her ear, as he slipped his hands up her skirt.

Tom’s mind briefly wandered to her getting off on the words within the book and had to stop for a few seconds to recompose himself. He glanced down at her. The words on the page of her book seemed to leap and dance off the page, mocking him for being of more interest to her than he was. Shaking his head, he tried not to look at the uncovered, sweet smelling, perfumed, skin of her chest. Going back to his own book, he attempted to allow the book’s poetry to command his full attention once again.

The first poem Tom encountered as he flipped the page nearly killed him. He stopped breathing and read over the words three more times before letting out a shaker gasp.

The only words on the page were, “Put your hands on my knees, she said, and think of me as a book you’ve been dying to read.”

Tom looked from the poem to her, then again and again before he felt his jeans getting even tighter than they were before. This had to be a sign. Shit, they were in a library, surrounded by books, all alone in a dimly lit corner of the library. Not to mention, books and literature were her favorite things in the word. She had told him a while ago that the best compliment she’d ever received had been from slew of teachers who had all insisted that she had the best taste in books they’d seen in a long time. Michael Faudet’s words were taunting him.

“Baby,” he started, gently tilting her chin up to look at him. “I’m bored.”

She frowned, “do you not like the book because I can go and grab you another, or maybe-,” Tom cut her short by sliding a soft hand across her throats to sweep her hair off her shoulder.

“Let’s trade. You can read Dirty, Pretty Things out loud to me. I’m sleepy and I wanna listen to you read the poems.” Tom gently guided his book into her palms.

She flushed red and stuttered for a minute. “Tom, I can’t.

“Why not?” He countered.

“You’ve read it,” She muttered, looking away from him. “The words are libidinous.”

Tom brought her eyes back to his and licked his lips before he spoke. “I wanna hear you read them darling.” He moved to kiss the spot just below her lips. Tom dared lower and lower, tangling his hands in her hair as he went. When he reached her collarbones, she finally snapped.

Letting out an airy sigh, she gasped out, “fine Tom.”

He smirked and placed a final kill on the base of her throat and corrected his posture so that he was sitting with his arms protectively circling her frame.

She moved to flip to the next page when Tom interrupted her. “Do you mind reading from the beginning? I wanna hear it all in your voice.”

Narrowing her eyes, she flipped back to the first page and began to read. As she read through the first few poems, Tom’s hands began to totter.

First, he slipped them up and down her arms, feigning an effort to keep her warm. Then, he began to give her small kisses on the forehead, cheek, neck and hand. She looked at him, slightly confused as to why he’d ask her to read out loud if he wasn’t going to pay attention.

Nevertheless, she kept reading.

As she flipped the page, her breathing was cut short. Tom knew exactly which poem she’d stumbled across. “Sweetheart, do you want to play a game?” Tom asked her, his voice rough and low in her ear.

She blinked up at him, her cheeks flushed cherry red as she managed to stutter out a few syllables.

“How about I tell you the rules first?” He paused briefly, and then began to talk. “The book you’ve chosen for me has actually proven itself to be quite the naughty thing and I think that you gave it to me on purpose. Since you like to play so many little games instead of just telling me directly what you want, I think that maybe I’ll give games a go too.” Tom stopped to look at her again. Her pupils had consumed the typical color of her eyes and her hands were slightly shaking. Taking them within his own, he kissed the backs of both of her hands.

“If you’ll allow me, I’d very much like to reenact that poem. You are the book that I’ve been dying to read.”

Her eyes shut and she bit her lip to contain the moan threatening to slip past.

“Here’s the catch though, I still want you to read to me. If you stop reading out loud, I’ll stop what I’m doing and you wouldn’t want that, would you?” Tom peppered her neck with open mouthed kisses.

She nodded her head, eyes still shut tight.

“No, darling, I need verbal consent, just to be sure.” Tom continued his assault on her neck.

Her eyes finally snapped open and she rolled her head around to look directly into Tom’s eyes. “Please.” She whispered.

With that, Tom smirked and lifted the hem of her dress and slipped his hand further up her thighs.

Her voice shook, “the kind of love letter I write are the ones you read in bed, stretched out beneath the sheets with one hand between your legs.”

Tom pressed his mouth to her and she convulsed against his lips, gasping out the words to the next line.


anonymous asked:

Please write a short fic about tony catching peter drinking i would die omg

“Hey, Peter,” 


He froze, eyes widening as he heard the all-too-familiar sound of expensive leather brogues scuffing along the floor a few meters from him, and he turned quickly, brow furrowed into a deep V as he watched Tony wander up to him, all smiles and casual posture, hands buried in the pockets of his grease-stained jeans. He looked like he’d come straight from the workshop, stopping only to throw on a leather jacket along the way.

Why he was here at all, however, made no sense at all.

“T- Mr Stark,” Peter said, trying to communicate with him through eyebrow movements alone. If it turned out that he had to suit up and help out somewhere, he was pretty fucked, considering the fact he’d had a bit to drink at the party he’d been invited to.

Well. He said ‘a bit’. It was possibly more accurate to say ‘a fucking shit-ton’, but whatever.

Tony looked at him blankly, before shooting another smile toward the circle of people who were stood around Peter and staring quite blatantly at the both of them. “Hello, ladies and gentlemen, I’m afraid I have to take Mr Parker away. He’s an intern at Stark Industries, you know how it is. Lots of work, yadda yadda, okay bye,”

And before Peter could even open his mouth, Tony had grabbed him by the arm and snatched the solo cup out of his hand almost angrily, pulling him away from the group of people and through the crowds of rowdy teenagers that littered the huge house.

“Uh, Mr Stark, wha’dd’ya want me for, exactly?” Peter asked, speaking loudly above the blaring music and wincing at how slurred his voice came out.

It had been a weird month, okay. He was just trying it out. 

Tony paused, and Peter saw him purse his lips even tighter before beginning to walk again, guiding Peter through the crowds and holding him tight as he stumbled a little.

“Hey, Parker, leaving so soon?” Flash called out from somewhere to his left, and Peter stopped turning to face him as the other boy wandered toward them. “We haven’t even begun yet, Jesus, are you a pussy or what-”

“Kid,” and suddenly Tony had let go, spinning around and walking up to Flash, who seemed to suddenly recognise who exactly Tony was, because his eyes went hilariously wide and he stumbled backward a few steps. Peter snorted involuntarily, and he saw Tony turn briefly, before shaking his head and looking back to Flash, “it seems like you’re having an absolute ball here, but I’m gonna say something and I’m only going to say it once.”

Tony looked down at Flash, eyes harsh as he drew a little closer. “Leave. Peter. Out of it. Do you understand? He is not here for you to manipulate, not here for you to bully into trying out crazy shit for your amusement-”

“Tony, what the fuck,” Peter blurted, frowning and stepping forward, more than a little put out. He’d only just managed to get accepted by Flash and all the other popular kids, and Tony was just going in, ruining it all, “you’re not my dad- don’t tell me or my friends what I can and can’t do.”

Tony turned, eyebrows raised. “Friends?” He snorted, shaking his head and walking over to Peter once more, taking him by the arm. “You haven’t called in with Aunt May for two days now,” he hissed into Peter’s ear, “she’s worried sick. You are coming with me, right now.”

“No ‘m not,” Peter pushed his hand off, looking over at Tony in anger. “You are fucking….embarrassing me…. in fron’ of my friends-”

“They are not your friends!” Tony snarled, pulling his arm again, “your friends are all currently at home, worrying their asses off because this is not like you, Peter, and they didn’t know what to fucking do, so they ended up calling me. Now you will fucking follow me out of this goddamn place right now, or I am hauling you out.”

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