i wish i had told you

@xxtorchxx made this gorgeous manip and it lit a fire of inspiration in me.  She was kind and generous enough to allow me to lend my words to her perfect image.  Just bask in this brilliance for awhile.   As should go without saying, do not repost, re-use or claim this work as your own.  If you like it, use that little reblog button in the bottom right corner of the post.

A million thank-yous @xxtorchxx for your talent and creativity and for your thoughts on this little fic to complement it.  

Thanks to @reginalovesemma for the edits.  As always, you elevate my work.


A note about this little fic.  Mon-El was never Kara’s boyfriend.  In this little world, he was the funny, goofy, sidekick pal we all deserved him to be.  Kara misses him and does have to deal with the loss of a friend, but he did not have the dominating presence in her life he was given in canon.

Please enjoy!

Keep reading

4

| 05.28.17 |

first shot of my bujo:)

story time: so the other day, i found a giant spider in my room, and i, being absolutely terrified of spiders, went to my mom to get her to kill it. however, she just told me to kill it myself, so i grabbed a golf club and spent 30 mins trying to will myself into killing the spider, but to no success. when my mom saw me on the verge of tears 30 mins later, she let out the biggest sigh i’ve ever heard and had the most disappointed look as she proceeded to kill the spider for me 😅 gotta love my mom LOL

p.s. thank you to everyone who wished me well after my last post! i’m feeling loads better now:) you guys are all so so sweet i can’t 💞

Soft boys in flower crowns, this must be heaven (ᅌᴗᅌ✿) 

(Please, do not repost)

6

shinee + space-y things for the birthday girl, @leejinklies. ♡

Day One Hundred and Eighteen

-An infant came through, shrieking until no end unless their one simple demand was met: a bag of marshmallows in which to bury their face. I feel a great deal of understanding for this child, and I will undoubtedly make use of this coping strategy in the future.

-Multiple dogs have come through the store today,each brightening my day enough to more than make up for the stormy skies. A guest could purchase a stuffed Minion and slap me in the face with it and I still would not mind. All that matters now is the puppers.

-A mother turned her back to her four year-old daughter for a split second, who, with an immediacy that left no doubt of premeditation, ran to an empty register and began shining the hand scanner into her eyes. My crew has been in need of a classic wild card for some time now, and I believe I may have found a perfect fit.

-I passed a woman wearing a shirt that read, “I Love Jesus A Little.” I appreciate the honesty here. After all, JC has always struck me as the kind of guy who values being real over telling him what he wants to hear.

-An eerie spell has fallen over the shopping center. Despite the vibrant landscapes outside being perfectly lit in the most picturesque way, the sky is covered in a deep black, nearly purple covering of clouds. The store is constantly fluctuating from full and crowded to nary a shopper to be seen, yet at no point is anything more or less than a muffled buzz heard. Every thirty minutes I look at a clock, only to see that only five have gone by. I know not what is causing this metamorphosis from storefront to purgatory. I can only hope that it passes soon, or, if it does not, that I am compensated properly.

-A toddler systematically discarded items as she was pushed through the store, tossing them by the wayside as they went. She knew precisely what the most valuable item in that cart was, and she would not stand for competition.

-A family came through my lane. The father placed a stuffed stormtrooper on the counter and, gesturing to his son, said, “This is his buddy.” Next, he put up several bags of mini chocolate eggs, remarking, “And these are going to be my buddies.” Finally, he told me of his wife, “And this, this is her buddy,” before placing a therapeutic massager on my counter. No living soul will ever know the truth of who was the most uncomfortable in this situation, but I will contest to my dying day that it was me.

-A man hurriedly approached my register and, in a deep and commanding voice, addressed me, “How you doing, chief?” Caught off-guard by my new promotion, I quickly scanned his purchase of girls underwear and leggings. He finished paying and told me, “Don’t bother bagging it, we’ve had an incident,” and, items stowed under his arm, hurried back off towards the sales floor. I sent with him my best wishes and a sticker for our fallen soldier.

{Final Chapter: PART 30} I Won’t Stop You // Jeon Jungkook, Vampire!AU

Originally posted by jengkook

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Vampire!AU, Fantasy, Angst, Smut

Summary; N/A.

“And in the end, he had everything he had only ever hoped of having; her, only her - for the rest of time.”

Warning: Although this chapter doesn’t have an M rating, there are some scenes of slight mature/sexual content.

This is the final chapter to this series! If you would like to read my author’s note, I have placed it at the end of this post after the chapter for those who wish to see it~ Thank you, and I hope you enjoy IWSY’s final chapter ^^

{Part 1} // {Part 29} {Final Chapter: Part 30}

Keep reading

Wrong

Originally posted by lumos025

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

Words: 8083

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

2 years earlier:

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

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

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

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

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

Present day:

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

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

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

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

And then you heard his name.

Followed by yours.

Distantly, like in a dream of being in class.

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

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

About sex in cinema.

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

“Right. Right. Yeah. You’re right.”

“I can come with you if you want.”

“No, that’s okay. That’s fine.”

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

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

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

Even though his expression seemed to say something else.

Oh god. His expression was saying something else.

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

And you knew.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Only there was nothing, nothing, nothing.

And it made no difference at all.

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

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

“You think everything is cool between us?”

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

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

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

“That last one is getting close.”

He sighed, shoulders sagging.

Relenting, you thought. He’s actually relenting.

“Fine, we are a fucking disaster.”

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

“But I figure we can work on it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

He just closed his eyes.

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

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

“I believe you.”

“You do?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know it was. I’m pretty proud.”

“And I have no argument against it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pretty much, yeah,” he said.

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

“I know it seriously cannot be stopped.”

“I think you have a terminal case.”

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

And hear it in his words.

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

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

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

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

Better to focus on the real and the now.

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

Then you took a breath and answered.

“Nothing,” You said.

A few weeks later:

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

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

As did his silence.

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

Until now.

“Jungkook, are you okay?”

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

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

Like an ominous statue of yourself.

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

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

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

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

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

“No, no why would I…no, that’s cool.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This is even less realistic than Dirty Dancing.”

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

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

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

His arm rubbed against yours as he did it.

“Maybe she doesn’t care.”

“I guess not.”

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

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

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

Onscreen, Susan Sarandon was going down on James Spader.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your breath hitched.

“You do those things?”

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

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

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

But then he kept going.

He kept going.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah but after…”

“After what?”

“After he came then he…”

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

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

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

You glanced at the thing he was pointing at.

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, maybe not like this.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Think about how it must feel.”

“Yeah I can…I get that…”

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

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

“And it works?”

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

“What works?”

“It makes you…you know. Cum.”

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

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

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

“Where? Where…where are you?”

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

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

“Her clit. Her slick, swollen clit.”

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

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

“Then you just…stroke it.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Until she’s mindless.”

“Yeah. Yeah.”

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

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

Not even when he was embarrassed.

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

You didn’t even know what the something was.

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

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

“You can, you know.”

“Can what?”

“Touch yourself.”

It jolted you, when he said it.

But not as much as realizing why he said it.

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

Because his hand was actually between his legs.

“I do,” he said.

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

“You do?”

“Fuck, yes. I’m dying to.”

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

“Sure. We can say that, if you want.”

You closed your eyes. Swallowed thickly.

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

“If we could that would be awesome.”

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

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

“Just a natural response to a sexy movie.”

“Seems that way to me.”

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

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

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

But that wasn’t what really got you.

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

under his waistband.

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

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

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

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

“Exactly. Exactly.”

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

You really didn’t need to.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And all of it for you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

And asked questions You were loathing to answer.

“Have you…not? I mean have you not—”

“I couldn’t. I’m sorry, I couldn’t.”

“God, you must be bursting.”

“Honestly, I’m fine.”

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

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

And of course he could see all of that.

“You look like you’re bursting.”

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

“Your voice is shaking.”

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

Almost, almost, almost.

“Your cheeks are flushed.”

“Are they?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Right, exactly. Super intense.”

“So why deny yourself?”

“I’m not…denying…anything.”

“I could leave, if you want.”

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

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

And he took it that way, too.

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

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

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

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

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

“Probably wouldn’t take a lot.”

“I always take a lot.”

“Even when you’re alone?”

“Especially when I’m alone.”

“Well, maybe we should see about that.”

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

Only without the scariness of the real thing.

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

It was weird. Slightly uncomfortable.

Not sexy in the least.

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

Yet you still had to clench your jaw.

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

he worst lover you had ever had.

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

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

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

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

Fuck.

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

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

Though one little word was more than enough.

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

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

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

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

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

Only it wasn’t all.

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

Yet somehow the filthiness only made it worse.

You came searingly close to telling him yes.

And go on.

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

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

Any second, you thought.

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

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

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

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

Kick him out.

“Jungkook…you need to leave”

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

Suga Daddy: Part 7

Suga Daddy: Part 7

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Words: 9.6k

Genre: Smut, angst, dirty talk, dom!Yoongi

There is another gif in the story that describes the moment I was portraying. Ignore Namjoon’s name on it, lol. Anyway, enjoy :) 

Parts:  one | two | three | four | five | six 

Keep reading

you know who’s super cute?
you are
that lil chub on your stomach?
that’s cute too
and on your thighs?
dude even cuter
like man, you’re so cute, I dunno how you don’t see itall of you is so, so frickin adorable
and no, I don’t have to know what you look like to think you’re the cutest
because I already know that you’re so, so cute and that you’re so important. it’s okay if you don’t love the way you look right now, just know that I do. and I think you’re perfect

fullmooninthenightsky  asked:

Hey, I read you answered questions on witchcraft and I'm just about starting out on being a witch and I'm just kinda lost. How do I find out what kind of a witch I am, for example? And what about room decor, plants, drying herbs, crystals, sigils and others? How do I even start being a witch?Do you have any websites or blogs (or tips?) that could help me out? Thank you ♡ x

Hi there!

You find out what kind of witch you are, by deciding what kind of witchcraft you want to practice. Most people just choose what they want to be, based off what they like, what they feel drawn to, or just what they want to do. [Here] is a list of types of witches that might inspire you / help you get started on finding a type of magic you want to work with first. This list is not extensive, and what you choose you aren’t stuck with forever - you can try other things, combine things, whatever you want to do! Witchcraft is super personal, and it’s all for you, by you. You also don’t need to confine your magic to any singular label; you can choose more than one to work with.

I picked sigil magic to start with, for example, because it seemed easy, and I knew I could draw; it also required very little supplies, and it also honestly seemed the least likely to backfire. xD My craft eventually evolved into eclectic magic, because I began using a bit of everything else (crystals, herbs, candles, etc.) in my magic to get what I needed.

As for room decor, that’s up to you. You don’t need it, though. You don’t need to *look* witchy to *be* witchy. If you need to be on the down low about your magic, you don’t have to draw huge pentacles on your walls or wear all black or anything like that to still have magic work. What makes you a witch or magic user is what’s inside you, not around you (it can help but, you know, not required). But, if you want to make your room look “witchy,” whatever that means to you, go right for it. But I don’t think it will impact your magic in any way. (I don’t view altars / magical work spaces as decor - they are more than just decorations.)

In regards to plants, it’s another case of if you want to. All my herbs I get pre-dried in grocery stores and bulk stores, because I can’t grow plants worth squat. I’ve taken fresh herbs from grocery stores, actually, that’s a lie, but they were already grown, and I just hung them in my window to dry them. If you want to try growing your own herbs, feel free, but it isn’t necessary - pre-dried and store bought have worked perfectly for me for the last two years. (I also don’t know anything about growing herbs or gardening, so you’d need to go elsewhere for those answers.)

Working with crystals and sigils are optional - they can prove beneficial, but if you don’t want to do that, you don’t need to. 

Working with *anything* is optional, when you get right down to it - all these things, candles, herbs, crystals, are just amplifiers and focuses for magic. You can perform witchcraft with just your own body, energy, and intent. You just need to know how. (P.S. [energy work] is how.)

Doing your own research will never go amiss, let me tell you that right now. I know it can seem daunting, and you don’t know where to start, but seriously, just a Google search of “witchcraft crystal magic” or “witchcraft sigil magic” can pull up a lot of information and give you more ideas of where to go that you can follow on your own. (I really recommend specifying “witchcraft” when searching on the internet, because you might get a lot of pop culture links that just aren’t relevant, or a variety of other articles that might not be applicable.)

You start being a witch by deciding you want to be a witch. Boom, congratulations, welcome to witchcraft! :D From there, it’s going to be a lot of research. Research will help you determine more about witchcraft in general, and from there you can decide what you want to do with it. Once you have an idea of things you might want to try - working with crystals, herbs, sea magic, etc. - you can do more focused research on those topics. 

Once you have an idea of what you want to do, try it out. Give some things a shot and practice. Write down what you try, so if it doesn’t work or things go wrong, you can look back and think “what if I try this instead?.” and then try it. It really is all about experimentation. You will make mistakes, spell may not work - it is something that has happened to us all, and likely will again. Nothing is perfect and neither is magic. Don’t be daunted, though - you are new to it, it will take some time to get the hang of and build your confidence up. Just stay positive, and remember that mistakes are learning experiences, and help define you more as witch. Never give up. The magic is inside you, you just need to find the right way to work with it. 

Here are some more posts on starting with witchcraft:

Some of my favorite blogs:

@breelandwalker @oldmotherredcap @fuckyeahpaganism
@recreationalwitchcraft @maddiviner @cunningcelt @witchtips
@teapartyforthewitches @sigilathenaeum @orriculum @magpiesmagicnest
@the-darkest-of-lights @witchy-infobook @thepaganstudygrouppage
@spooniewitches @lowspoonswitchcraft @neurowitchcraft @neurodwitches
@witchy-words  @urbanspellcraft @witchsaves @thewitchlessons
@thewitchingour @witchy-woman @violetwitchcraft @spiritvexer
@the-ram-witch @theoryofmagick @low-budget-witches @witchoncampus
@phoenyxoftheashes @cosmic-witch @phaesphore @stormbornwitch  
@stormwaterwitch @witchglitch @cladinscarlet @smokeandblueroses  
@darkwoodswitch @alsowitchcraft @nightkunoichi @stsathyre
@witchofkeys @witchy-tips @witchy-businesss @thiscrookedcrown
@herbs-and-spells @herbs-and-journals @belladonnaswitchblog
@the-atypical-pagan @thepunkgreenwitch @liberumbrarum
@upthewitchypunx @queerkitchenwitch @lavenderspells @witchcraftings
@broomcorner @modern-witchcraft @themoonmysteries
@idontusemycauldrons

Long post, but yeah, I hope that helps you! If you have any more questions, I’ll do what I can to help you. :)

anonymous asked:

I solemnly challenge you to complete the song. "Somebody once told me/ The world already known me/ Just because both of my parents are dead. I was looking kind of dumb/ with my finger and my thumb/ pressing my lightning scar on my forehead."

No.

(Well, the spells start coming and they don’t stop coming,
Death eaters came, so I better start running,
When does this Chosen One stuff get fun?
I got a wand, wish I had a gun.

So much to do, so much to see,
But not down on Knockturn Alley.
Malfoy’s here, think I gotta go.
That kid is up to something bad, you know.

Hey, now, you’re a wizard, Harry Potter, and so
Hey, now, you’re a saviour, beat the Dark Lord, gotta go
Your spells won’t win you the gold
Drink the felicis, do what you’re to-o-old.)

I was hoping i’d never have to write a post such as this, but it seems i’ve no choice.

I have discovered that some of our older members of the Phandom have experienced ageism from some younger members, which in turn has made them feel isolated in this wonderful community. How is that right or fair on them? Just bc they are older doesn’t give anyone the right to dehumanize, and label them as old, weird, or stalkerish! At the end of the day, we are all fans of the same two British nerds. We are not here to prey on the young, just to enjoy the content that these nerds make.

Personally, i think Dan and Phil would be thoroughly ashamed if they got to know that this is what happening.

I, myself, have been so lucky! Anyone who has found out my age and realise i have kids who are also Phangirls, i’ve been told i am so cool, to the extent i had one person tell me they wished i was their mum! Some have even nicknamed me, Mama Phan, which i love and adore.

So please, if you know of anyone in your followers who are 28+ pls, reach out and embrace them. But only if you feel comfortable in doing so, i know some of you are as bold as brass and don’t give a fig what age a person is as long as thry’re nice. Yes, they may not Phangirl as hard as you, and seem a lot more sensible, but are we all not Phangirls/guys at heart? Do we not love Dan and Phil?!?

Remember age is nothing but a number. But do be careful about what details you tell ppl.

[EDIT] Okay, so this post is starting to get a lot of hate towards it, which is fine, i was expecting this from the get-go. I get that a lot of you are young and feel uncomfortable, and again that’s fine to feel that way, i get it i do, we don’t want anyone to feel uncomfortable. All i was getting at is, that as soon as certain ppl find out that there are older fans in the Phandom they start sending them rude anons telling them that it’s creepy they’re in the Phandom to begin with. Why is that necessary? All we want is to enjoy some quality content :( If any older person has followed a blog of a younger person, it’s bc half the time not everyone states how old they are - which again is the owners right to choose. I, myself, have stated my age on my blog description as a safety precaution just in case. Mostly, they’ve followed that blog for the content that they create, and want to see and share it. If anyone has deliberately followed a young persons blog and starts talking them, and they asked you to stop and you haven’t complied - shame on you! You’re old enough to know better! My advice young ones is to block the person trying to talk to you, never put up with it! But, by the same token, pls don’t try to shame us older members with rude anons abt our age and the fact we like DnP too - that’s all i ask. If i’ve ever made anyone feel uncomfortable, then i sincerely do apologise. I never meant to upset or distress anyone.
You. Oh God, how I wish things turned out differently between us. I still believe that everything that we had was real, against the very notion that all of that were mere illusions and our minds tricking us to believe that it was “love.” Because if it wasn’t, it wouldn’t hurt me this much. You told me this isn’t love; this is not what real love looked like. That we were just two teenagers on the internet who fell in love with the “idea” of each other. But my heart’s too stubborn and kept on denying and rejecting such notion.
Maybe you didn’t love me just as much as I loved you or maybe you didn’t love me at all. Maybe you fell in love with the idea of me and I fell in love with you wholeheartedly. I was important to you, and you were so much more for me. And it wasn’t your fault. It’s not your fault that I choose to love you.
—  the story of us // one (s.j.)

i think so often lesbians– specifically lesbians– stay silent on these issues because we are told from this “wlw community” we’re apart of that our identities aren’t exactly worth mentioning specifically and explicitly. lesbian is a harsh word, identifying as a lesbian in many ways feels like a reclamation of something you wish you never had to be. but being a lesbian is truly one of the best gifts i could have ever gotten, despite the loneliness that comes with it. with all my hard work, and my adamant assertion of a lesbian identity, it becomes very hard to keep up when i get watered down by “wlw” and “sapphic.” these communities will mention lesbian here and there in a post, though it seems more absent-minded, something that is done out of necessity. when really, what lesbians truly need, is active and adamant lesbian feminism and lesbian analysis. i don’t need to be told i’m cute and valid, i already know that.

A PSA to young folk:

If someone you’re interested in says something like, “You shouldn’t be with me, because I’m damaged and I only hurt everyone, and I’ll never get better,” BELIEVE THEM.  Because they are saying that for one of two reasons:

1- They think it’s cool and romantic to be dark and damaged.  They are incorrect.  Fetishizing mental illness is not ok.

2- They truly believe this about themselves, and are unwilling to do anything to work on their issues, right now, and will take their hurt out on you.  Things may change in a few years, when they are ready to face it, but it is NOT YOUR JOB TO FIX THEM.  YOU ARE NOT THIER SAVIOR.

However, if someone you’re interested in says something like, “Yeah, I have issues, but I’m working on them.  It’s hard, and I don’t always win, but I’m working on it.“  That’s a good sign.  It means they’re self-aware enough to be in a healthy relationship.  But please remember, even then, that IT IS NOT YOUR JOB TO FIX THEM. 

Bottom line: when someone tells you who they are, believe them.

Advice I gave my kid today (that I wish someone had told me)

When I gave this advice to my kid

“You know how people say follow your passion? Or Follow your dream? So that when you grow up your passion is your job?” 

Kiddo got excited saying yes they’d heard that advice a lot.

“Well sometimes that’s not possible or even desirable.”

Kiddo got very still at that.

I used writing as an example explaining that I loved to write, but when I tried to write with the aim of being a published author it made me hate writing and eventually unable to write at all. It was only when I started writing again just for fun that it became something I did a lot and it genuinely became something I loved again.

I pointed out plenty of people do become published authors but it wasn’t right for me.

I said passions can become careers but they can also stay hobbies and that was okay. 

Kiddo thought for an example of something they love to do that they wouldn’t want as a career and yelled “YOUTUBERS!” and I’m like “Yes?” and Kiddo said “Some of them make their job playing minecraft and I love minecraft but I’d never want that to be my job. I want it to be a hobby only”

And I was “Exactly”

I also said you can go to university, get a degree, and end up in a completely unrelated job like my husband who’s degree in physics isn’t really relevant to his job co-coordinating a very large department of people. He enjoys his job but it’s not his “passion”

I pointed out a lot of people seem to feel people should have their whole lives planned out at 16 and that this was completely stupid. 

I said “What you do for fun or because you’re passionate can become your career but then you always run the risk of what you do for fun becoming ‘work’ and losing the passion that brought you to it in the first place. Also at times you need a job to pay the bills but your hobby can still bring you joy.”

Considering Kiddo is like me, incredibly stubborn with a perfectionist streak, I know how the pressure that “Follow your dream” can inflict. It can make you feel that unless you are a high achiever in a “career” that you’re “passionate” about you are failing and garbage.

Hopefully this advice will help counter act that notion for Kiddo.

Hopefully.

8

happy birthday to the best giffer and most sincere suho stan, caroline!
@suhocean​, i love you beyond the moon and back

You'll Miss Me When I Go

Part 1:

Keith didn’t understand why he had to go to these stupid group counselling sessions. His brother wasn’t dead he would be back.
Since Shiro had disappeared after the ship sank everyone had said he was dead.
But Keith knew better. He knew he was fine and would come home as soon as he could.
The doctors said he just wasn’t coping with the loss well, that he was still in the stage of denial.
The therapist suggested that a group session could help him move on.
Move on was all they wanted him to do?
To give up on someone that could be back any day.
———————————–

He looked through the glass to the room. There was already four people inside, all sitting on chairs in a circle.
Keith took a deep breath and walked in.
Immediately four faces turned to look at him, one who he recognised as Hunk from college smiled at him.
The girl next to him gave him a nod not really seeming happy to be there, looks like they were in the same position.
The other woman smiled as well nudging the man with an orange moustache, as if to remind him of his job.
The man jumped to his feet and enthusiastically shock his hand “ah you must be Keith, lovely to meet you. Take a seat and we can do introductions. I’ll start, im Coran I lead these group sessions and I lost my wife a few years ago.”
He sat back down gesturing for Keith to do the same.
Begrudgingly he took the empty seat next to Hunk who frowned but didn’t say anything.
Coran pointed at the woman next to him indicating she should go next.
“Hello I’m Allura. I lost my farther many years ago and I am here to assist Coran and all of you in anyway I can.”
“My names Hunk, I’m here because my grandpa passed away a few months ago.”
Keith looked at the girl on the other side of Hunk waiting for her to introduce herself. She just crossed her arms and glared.
“The names Pidge and my dad and brother are alive! And are coming back!” She yelled standing up.
“Pidge please sit down.” Coran spoke softly but firmly and the girl did as he asked grumbling under her breath.
Suddenly Keith recognised her.
Her brother and dad had been on the same ship Shiro had been, she had been there the day Keith had said goodbye and wished him luck on his artic voyage.
He never even considered someone else may be going through the same stuff he was…
“The names Keith and I lost my brother.” He decided to leave out the part that he would be back considering the reaction Pidge had received. He made a mental note to talk to her later.
Coran nodded a kind smile a constant on his face. “Well it’s lovely to meet you all… though I was told we would have one more…”
As if on cue the door was flung open and a way too happy looking guy came bouncing in the room.
“Sorry sorry I’m late.” He held up a box of donuts as some kind of peace offering. “But I come baring gifts.” He laughed setting the box down on a empty chair.
“Ah yes Lance I wondered when you would get here.” Coran shook his head but didn’t seem at all mad at this. In fact looking at the obnoxious guy Coran had an expression of fondness on his face. “Take a seat and let’s get on with it.”
Lance stared at Keith for a moment before pouting with his hands on his hips.
“Oi Mullet your in my seat.”
Keith looked at him for a moment. This guy couldn’t be so full of himself that he would demand a stranger to move when there were plenty of empty seat.
“No way I was here first.” Keith snapped crossing his arms.
“Coran” Lance whined looking over his shoulder at the older man.
“Just Sit here Lance there is plenty of room.” Allura answered before Coran got a chance to do so.
“If you wanted me so bad why didn’t you say so.” Lance winked taking the seat, but he still looked pretty annoyed. “So we were up to me right for intros?” He asked Coran nodding in confirmation.
“Right then, I’m Lance remember the name” he joked “and im here to grieve for myself.”

——————————————-part 2: https://langsty-mc-langstface.tumblr.com/post/160637029010/youll-miss-me-when-i-go