idk its horrible

2

He trusted you. He was your friend. And you killed him.
You didn’t just betray my trust. You have planned to betray it all that time.
I had to stop it. You had to stop it?

It was probably Elise who made Leo wear the flowers - Takumi is very much amused

Hey, I might get hate for this and this message might not be for everyone, but I wanted to say -

It’s okay to be going through a kind of grief right now if you were very invested in Nick’s content. Some people might be experiencing just straightforward anger, and that’s fine, that makes sense.

But I suspect some of you, like me, are struggling with your emotions. Betrayal is complex. Maybe you wish things could go back to the way they were. Maybe you’re guilty because you didn’t realize - guilty because you did - guilty because you’re not as angry as you think you should be. You want him to get fired, but you don’t. You miss his content but don’t know if you’ll ever be able to watch it again. You wonder if this is really a big deal, wonder how much your social climate is influencing that view. You want to make jokes about it and yet you hate when other people make jokes about it. You feel bad for him and feel guilty for feeling bad for him.

Maybe you experience one or two or all of these at some point. This is NORMAL.

And I want to be clear about something here: some of these emotions can easily turn into victim blaming, but use this as a learning opportunity. Victim blaming, generally, doesn’t come from HATING WOMEN on a personal level. It comes from fear, and guilt, and betrayal. It is EASY to fall into, and it can come from a place of sincere emotions, so be careful about what you’re saying out there in the heat of the moment.

I just - not ever emotion you experience in a situation like this is going to be Morally Pure And Good. And some of them should probably be worked through privately. But I want everyone to know that feeling those emotions is FINE. It’s part of the process and resenting yourself will only make it harder. You will learn and grow from this.

If you’re struggling with your reactions to this, it’s ok to step back. It’s okay if your emotions don’t immediately fall in line with your beliefs. So long as you’re thinking critically about what you put out there, don’t let anyone make you feel guilty about your emotions.

Be kind to yourself, everyone.

trc dudes as mcelroy Boy Quotes™

ronan: he’s a fun-havin’ fun-lookin’ dirty boy. like a really rowdy boy. just a dirty boy. just a rowdy, dirty boy. he’s a true rowdy boy.

adam: my perfect boy. my sweet boy let me show you the world! my sweet boy! MY BOY!

gansey: it’s a beautiful baby boy. there’s a good boy. hey! hey! hey there’s a, now that’s a boy that i could get into! that’s a perfect boy! let me see this perfect boy. justin’s special boy.

kavinsky: garbage boy. garbage boy boy stinkman. 

noah:  nervous little punk boy…

henry: i gotta say you’re starting with a sweet boy. he looks like a sweet boy. MY BEAUTIFUL BOY! oh my sweet boy! sweet boy.

the gray man: THIS AINT GON’ WORK JUICE WE MIGHT HAVE TO START OVER AND GIVE OUR BOY A NEW JOB.

greenmantle: very bad boy.

jesse dittley: VERY strong boy! a thick boy. oho yeah, i bet you can’t knock that boy over with a pail of water.

declan: oh god this is such a good wrestleboy.

matthew: you want a big boy or you want a little boy? a little boooy!

Thanks, Cas

Pairing: Sam x reader

Warnings: swearing, smut, the usual

Requested: yeperoni, on wattpad

Word Count: 2325

Tags: @winter-in-wakanda

Originally posted by demondetoxmanual


“You ready?” Sam asks, knocking on the bathroom door where you’ve locked yourself away. It’s your birthday, and Sam is taking you out to a fancy dinner for a night of pretending to be normal people who don’t hunt monsters for a living. You went to a good bit of trouble to get dolled up; hair done, heels on. Taking a deep breath and smoothing out your tight black dress, you smile at yourself in the mirror.

“I am. But are you ready to see me?” You tease Sam, and he chuckles.

“Yes, I think I-” Sam’s words cut out as soon as you open the door. His eyes rake up and down, from your heels to your curls and back again.

“Told you to get ready,” you smile, and Sam licks his lips, running his hands over his suit jacket. He clears his throat, finally making eye contact.

“This is going to be fun,” he says mischievously, and you shoot him a questioning look. He quickly shakes it off, clearing his throat again.

“Shall we go?”

-

“Shoot, that soup looks good too. Sam, what are you ordering? Can we split… hey, are you listening?” You wave a hand in front of your boyfriend’s face from across the table, and you can see his concentration melt away as he stops staring at your water glass and returns to reality. You give him a confused smile, unable to figure out what’s been making him act weird all night.

“Of course I’m listening. I- wait, what was the question?” he asks, and you laugh, shaking your head. Sometimes you think you’re dating the smartest man alive while simultaneously dating the dumbest dork alive.

“Sam, are you sure you’re you alright?” You inquire, setting down your menu and leaning forward on your elbows. He nods quickly, licking his lips and diving into his menu.

“Want to split some soup?” He asks innocently, and you smile broadly. He may be a dork, but boy do you love Sam. You two have the same thoughts at separate times.

“Sam, I tried to ask you that exact question about sixty seconds ago,” you tell him, laughing lightly as a blush creeps up on his cheeks.

“Not how this was supposed to go, Cas,” you hear Sam mutter under his breath, clearly frustrated, and you feel more confused than ever. What the hell?

“Okay, look, I know something is- oh-h, ah, S-Sam,” you suddenly stutter. Your accusation was interrupted by an absolutely bizarre feeling between your legs. You clamp a hand over your mouth, because although it’s not a particularly strong feeling, you can’t imagine what the source is, which freaks you out.

You look up at him, panicked, and feel your heart rate pick up at his expression. He’s smirking triumphantly. Your brows furrow, and you pull away your hand, opening your mouth to ask him what the hell is happening. Instead of words, all that escapes is a shaky sigh of pleasure as the feeling gets stronger. Fucking hell, it’s like Sam’s touching you.

“Enjoying yourself, baby?” He taunts, and with that, you know that somehow, he is touching you. Just.. without actually touching you. You glare, mouth sealed shut as you push your thighs together just as tight.

“I wanted to give you something special for your birthday, baby,” Sam says, and you grip onto the tablecloth desperately as the feeling takes over your clit.

“And so Cas lent me some of his grace. Turns out, he knows some fun angel secrets. Pretty powerful, isn’t it? Feeling me touch you with my mind?” he explains, outwardly loving this. You, however, feel like everyone’s staring at you try not to get any wetter than you already are. No way you’re coming in the middle of a fancy restaurant.

“Sam, stop,” you say through gritted teeth, looking around warily. Surprisingly, he does as you say, the sensation disappearing. You feel a little cold and left out in the wake of it, but try not to show your disappointment. This is what you wanted, right?

“Sure thing, baby. So, soup?” He asks cheerily, taking a sip of his water. You want to pull your hair out, but go along with it. Maybe it’s best to just pretend nothing ever happened.

“Soup.”

-

“And can I get you two any desserts?” the perky waiter asks, and you smile at Sam, hoping he’ll let you get some obnoxiously chocolatey dessert. He nods slightly, and you brighten up.

“Yes, we’ll ha-aa- oh, uh,” you’re taken aback by the sudden pleasure between your legs. This time, Sam is going all out, and you swear you can feel his fingers pumping inside you even though you’re staring at them resting on the table in front of you.

“Are you alright?” the waiter questions, looking lost. You glare at Sam, mentally begging him to either let up or cover for you.

“Oh, she’s fine. We’ll have the chocolate mousse, please,” Sam brushes you off, and although the waiter still looks wary, he writes down your order and hurries away nonetheless. Meanwhile, the tension in you is building as Sam changes his speed constantly, switching from faster than you thought possible to tortuously slow.

“Are you alright?” Sam feigns concern, and you swear if you weren’t so desperate to kiss him, you’d murder him. You’re about to verbalize that when, of course, Sam puts pressure on your clit, sticking with the faster pace.

“Ah, fuck, oh, fuck you, Sam,” you whisper, clenching your hands into fists. You want nothing more than to throw your head back and enjoy the feeling, but the chatter all around you reminds you that you’re entirely in the open.

“Fuck me? Well, actually, I was kind of hoping you would do just that,” Sam teases, lowering his voice so no one overhears. You want to scream his name; he’s going so fast and so hard on you that you can barely breathe.

“S-Sam,” you whimper again, looking at him with pleading eyes. You aren’t sure what you’re begging for - an end to the torture or an orgasm - but at this point, you aren’t sure it matters.

“Are you close, baby? Are you about to cum in front of all these rich, elegant people? Are you going to cream in your panties and fancy black dress? Hm?” Sam leans forward, and hearing him whispering dirty words makes you feel even hotter, if that’s possible.

“Sam, oh god yes,” you try to stay quiet, but simply can’t. You lean forward, one forearm resting on the table, head hanging low. Sam is actually going to make you cum in a crowded restaurant.

“One chocolate mousse- uh, hey, are you sure you’re okay?” The waiter approaches, and you snap your head up as Sam once again takes away your pleasure in an instant. Your pussy aches in complaint, but you force a smile as the chocolate mousse is placed in front of you.

“Oh, I’m just fine. Could we get the check now, please?” You say, giving Sam a pointed look. He’s got a mischievous glint in his eye as he pretends to be confused.

“Don’t you want to eat our mousse, baby?” Sam raises his eyebrows, knowing full well you’re throbbing for him.

“We’ll eat it as the check comes,” you promise, and the waiter gives you both another weird look as he turns to get the check as you asked. Once his back is turned, you drop the smile and glare at Sam.

“There’s something fucking wrong with you,” you hiss through gritted teeth, but Sam just grins, picking up his spoon and digging into the dessert.

“Want more, is that it?” Sam taunts around a mouthful of chocolate, and your grip on your spoon tightens so much you feel you might bend the metal.

“I swear to god, if you use that mojo on me one more time while we’re sitting here, you will never again get to have sex with me,” you threaten, dead serious. Sam drains of a little color, nodding in defeat as he eats some more. You sigh, exasperated.

When the waiter finally arrives with your check, you’re more than a little relieved that Sam isn’t messing with you as you talk. You hastily pay, and don’t hesitate a second to get up and start walking out. You weave past other diners and feel as if they all know how on edge you are. Sam follows behind you, trotting along and outwardly showing his rejection. You aren’t sure why exactly he’s being so mopey and dramatic, but you don’t have time to care. You need him alone, now.

The minute you’re in the parking lot, you just about fall to your knees. Sam has started up again, and your knees are going weak, making you wobbly on your heels. Sam strolls up behind you, letting you lean on him for support as you hold in moans. He’s going slow again, nice and easy.

“Sam, oh, fuck, oh, I’m going to kill you, I swear. I said… fuck… no more,” you say, blissed out with your eyes closed and head leaning back. You can feel his breath tickle your neck as he laughs.

“Oh yes, you sound very scary. But your rules were not while we were sitting there. I’m entirely in bounds,” he teases as he nudges you forward. With his help, you stumble your way to the impala, ankles twisting in your heels every other step as Sam keeps the hits coming. He opens the door to the backseat and helps you lie down in it. You grab his jacket lapels in your fists and pull him down on top of you. It’s a bit ridiculous with his height, but that’s not your concern right now.

Still gripping his jacket, you pull Sam’s mouth to yours, kissing him passionately. He laughs a little at first, but melts into it with you, one hand cupping the side of your face as his hair tickles your cheek. Your tongue slides over his, and you’re moaning freely into his mouth as he keeps slowly building up speed.

“I want to really feel you inside me, Sam, no more teasing,” you whisper, and Sam groans. He nods, sitting up and closing the car door behind him. The sensations are subsiding, but you don’t mind, knowing you’re about to get the real thing. Sam reaches into his pocket and pulls out a condom, and you laugh a little.

“You came prepared, didn’t you?” you joke, and Sam laughs with you. Not wasting any time, you undo his pants eagerly. You let him put the condom on as you hike up your dress and shimmy out of your soaked panties. Sam realizes what you’re doing only when you’re nearly done, and pouts.

“Hey, I wanted to do that,” he whines, having finished putting the condom on his hard length. You try not to get distracted by it and roll your eyes at Sam.

“You’ve had more than your fair share of fun with teasing me, Sam. I’m ready,” you tell him, and he smiles, leaning down to kiss you again. He lines up with your entrance, then pauses, looking down.

“Holy shit,” he murmurs upon seeing how wet you are. He got you so close to coming that your arousal is literally dripping, and Sam licks his lips at the sight. You sigh impatiently, not wanting to wait a second longer. So you grab his lower back and push him into you without hesitation. It’s a little sloppy and it startles Sam, but the sweet relief is enough to make you moan nonetheless.

“Woah, eager, are we?” Sam says as he starts to thrust in and out against your slick walls. You hum in pleasure, gripping him tighter and pulling him closer. The fact that you’re both still nearly fully clothed doesn’t phase either of you, hands still roaming.

“Shut up and fuck me,” you instruct, and Sam kisses your ear, making you smile.

“I think we can manage that,” he replies, picking up momentum. Soon enough, he’s slamming into you hard enough to rock the car and you’re both moaning and sweating like crazy. His hair is swinging in your face, and your nails claw at his back through his jacket and shirt.

After a full night of teasing, you reach the edge of your orgasm quicker than ever. You try to tell Sam you’re close, but all that comes out is more moans. He seems to get the idea anyways, reaching a hand down to rub circles on your clit.

“Oh, hell yes,” Sam mutters as you reach your high. Your walls clench around him, your back arches into his chest, and you curl your toes in pleasure. You can hardly breathe, and feel Sam fill up the condom as you come down. He keeps thrusting through both of your orgasms erratically, losing control of his rhythm as he comes.

When you’re both done, both panting heavily, Sam collapses on top of you. You let out an ‘oof’ along with strangled laughter, and Sam giggles. Picking himself up again, he smiles down at you.

“Sorry, baby,” he whispers, leaning in to kiss you. You hold his jaw as you return the sweet kiss, reveling in the afterglow.

“You know that you’re going to pay for what you did tonight, right?” you say between kisses, pulling back and making him pause. Sam closes his eyes, sighs, and nods.

“I know.”

“Don’t look so sad. You’ll love my punishment,” you whisper the last part against his ear, and Sam gets that devilish smirk back on his face. He leans in to kiss you some more, but you stop him again. Hand on his chest, you look up to the sky - well, the car’s ceiling. He follows your gaze, and you smile widely.

“Dear Cas, please accept my many, many, many thanks. Amen.”

anonymous asked:

how's your senior year going?

I’m not a republican or anything, but I do find it a little weird if Im honest that I havent seen anything on tumblr about the gop baseball game that got shot up today…. Like, even the dem team stopped to pray and everyone in the house or congress or whatever their political view joined together and agreed that this was fucked up and it shouldnt be divided by a political thing cuz they said its a human thing and? Like… im in no way trying to start something on tumblr cuz i dont care about politics enough or anything but dang like……….. super fuckin weird no ones said anything about the fact that a dude shot out a baseball game today. just saying.

raimykeller  asked:

Domestic & arguing over the remote #prompt :D

Also available on ao3.

Thank you so much for your patience!


Monday Nights are for The Bachelor

Stiles knew from experience that Derek could be stubborn. He knew that mostly because Stiles held himself to a pretty high standard of stubbornness that was, on occasion, met with an even higher amount of stubbornness in the six feet that built up Derek Hale. In every instance, Stiles always found himself surprised and, if he was being honest with himself, impressed.

This was not one of those occasions.

Monday nights were dedicated to The Bachelor. Derek thought it was a fair request since it was only two hours, one night, each week, for six weeks out of the year, that he required the television in his own loft. The pack had other thoughts on the matter – the use of Derek’s television, not on The Bachelor – the pack had no clue about Derek’s secret love affair with the reality show. Derek did decide to turn four teenagers into his betas, but he was not an idiot. Okay, ignore that last example.

The point still stood that Derek had every right to lock himself in his apartment on Monday nights with a box of red wine and bowl of movie theater butter popcorn to watch a reality show that may or may not contain the use of tears, wildly concocted fights, and artfully chiseled men. The pack was settled and there hadn’t been any supernatural issues in months. Well, unless you counted the time Scott contracted a were-flu and all the werewolves in the pack were reduced to sniffling blanket piles. Stiles had shouldered the brunt of mothering everyone as they regained their strength and while he complained profusely, Derek had suspected the whole ordeal had been an ego boost for the kid.

A ding sounded from the kitchen and Derek took the popcorn out of the microwave, taking care not to burn his fingertips as he grasped it by the corners and tried in vain not to rip the bag in half. The effort was futile, as it always was, and Derek inevitably had a steaming cloud of popcorn explode in his face before falling to the floor. You would think that growing up with werewolf strength would give Derek the time and opportunity to figure out how to do something as mundane as opening a bag of popcorn without it staging a coup, but this was one skill he could not grasp. He stood there, dumbfounded, when he heard a key turn the tumblers in the apartment’s lock and Stiles walked in. He looked at Derek and blinked.

“I have so many questions,” started Stiles.

Keep reading

4

ai haibara + happy for @diamondsinmymouth

This is what he’d do with a fidget spinner-