if you dont think hope is attractive you are lying to yourself

of grocery happenings and broken glass - sans x reader/self insert

HEY! Since it’s fanfic friday, can you do one with UT Sans and the “enemies to lovers” trope? it can just be a few scenes where the relationship changes. u dont have to ofc but idk i really like those kinds of stories :‘0c

Summary: You’re an enigma wrapped in a mystery, and he’ll do anything literally) to get you to solve yourself. (Or the obligatory fic wherein sans goes from wanting to dunk you to wanting to kiss you)

Notes: AAAAAAAA?????? AAAAAA. Mcfrickin. Love this trope. Bless u. blessed prompt. i had too much fun writing this help.

Writer: Mod Chrissu

The first time he meets you, it’s weird as hell to him.

Firstly, you are probably the best looking human he’s ever laid eyes on. Your hands are balled up and pushing into your hips, your head craned to look up with a sneer at somebody much taller than you.

When he sees who it is, the attraction that he felt immediately was replaced with intense anger.

His brother is holding a grocery basket, one that he knows isn’t his because it’s completely barren of any type of pasta or sauce. His grin is a little shaky, as if he’s apologetic, but also scared. There’s a few food items on the floor that are lying abandoned, so he assumes that the basket must have overturned in some way and Papyrus went to help you. So why did your expression hold so much fury?

He mosies on over, hands stuffed in his pockets. He’s gonna start out calm and cordial, and hopefully this human won’t give him a reason to dunk them into next Saturday. “hiya. what’s up?” He greets, keeping his tone relaxed and chipper, hoping that this goes well.

“SANS!” The way his brother says his name, almost in relief, makes his opinion of the human drop even further. “HELLO, BROTHER!”

You turn to face Sans, your face portraying annoyance. If it wasn’t for the fact that you looked like you had a problem with his bro, Sans might have considered using a sly pickup line. But no, you open your mouth and erase that possibility. “Oh, he’s with you?” You imply, pointing to the taller skeleton, who’s fidgeting nervously.

His grin turns a little steely. He doesn’t like to see Paps so scared. “yeah. s’there a problem with that?”

“Maybe. Anyways, listen here, dudebro.” Attention aimed at Papyrus again, mouth twisting into a scowl. “I got this. I don’t need somebody swooping in and saving me.” You rip the basket away from Papyrus and bend down to pick up the food on the floor, eyes widening when you see the damage done. “Damn it, the cans are dented!”

“listen buddy, i’m sure you’re just misunderstanding–” His patience is wearing very thin but an agitated sigh cuts him off.

“Look, buddy, I already had to walk all the way here because my piece of shit car broke down, I don’t need some random guy telling me off.” Your body language radiates don’t fuck with me today, and he doesn’t really understand why. “I’m sorry, but I’m not in the mood.” Food retrieved from the ground and in the basket, you straighten up and give both he and Papyrus a pointed glare. “Now if you’ll excuse me, which I don’t really care if you do or don’t, I have to replace these cans.”

Without letting him speak, you turn on a heel and stomp out of the aisle, leaving him in dumbfounded silence. What the hell was your problem?

The next time he sees you, it’s without you knowing.

It’s been a few days since what happened in the grocery store, and frankly he’d be fine with never seeing your face again. Somebody so filled with negativity and hatred for others for no reason…He doesn’t like people like that. He’s glad he’ll never see you again.

(Except he does.)

He hears a scream before he sees the blur of a person being tossed out onto the sidewalk a few houses down from where he’s standing. He almost runs over to help until another human shows up. They step out onto the steps angrily, if their rigid posture and antagonistic stance is any factor.

“Get the fuck out, you waste of space. Don’t even know why I bothered with you. You’re nothing but shit.” They spit out.

“Nonono, no please, I’ll be better, don’t do this please–” The voice is so full of fear and regret, and it’s so familiar. He knows that voice. It stirs a forgotten anger in his chest, and finally he registers that it’s you, the human from the grocery store.

Your clothes are ripped in places, there’s bruises all over your arms, the shirt you have on is riding up and showing off even more bruises on your back and sides. Your knees are scuffed from your fall, and you’re barely keeping your torso up off the ground. Your form is shaking, soft sobs emitting from your mouth. What a moment to be observing you. To avoid being seen, he ducks behind a nearby trashcan.

“You were lucky, you had me to love you! I’m probably the only person on this Earth left that actually gives a fuck about you! None of your friends or your family actually care, they’re faking it!” The human on the steps barks, and he notices a glint from their hand. They throw it in your direction, and the bottle shatters on the ground a few feet away from you, pieces scattering all over the pavement. “Get the hell out of here, you damn slut!”

The human on the steps goes back into the house and throws out a bag of clothes before slamming the door. Sans turns away from the scene, expression a mixture of shock and confusion. He has no idea what to think. Obviously, the dude that just kicked you out is an asshat, but did you deserve it? He’s not the kind of guy to wish pain or suffering on anybody else, so no, he supposes you don’t. He goes to pick himself up off the ground.

Except you pass by. You notice him there. It’s silent for one scarily long moment.

“How much of that did you see?” You inquire roughly, voice cracked from crying. A pang of pity ripples through his SOUL.

“…all of it.”

Your face is unreadable, you just grip the bag you have a little harder. It’s plastic, so your fingers sink into the material like clay. “…Fuck off.”

He looks up at you in surprise. “what?”

“I said fuck off.” You hiss, your glare piercing. “Want to know why I got kicked out? One of the cans I brought home from the store, that your idiot brother made me drop? It was dented. So fuck you, fuck your brother, fuck everything.” You grit your teeth and march off, pulling the bag over your shoulder.

He scrambles up and after you, though a tiny inner voice questions his motives. What is he gonna do? You obviously don’t want to see him, your little proclamation proved so, so why is he chasing you? He squashes down the thought, unsure if he wants to know why.

“look, kid, i’m sorry.” He skids in front of them, chest heaving with the extra effort he put into catching up with them. “i don’t understand your attitude, or why you act the way you do, but acting that way isn’t going to change anything.”

“You know nothing about me, why the hell are you trying to do here?” You snap, dropping your bag. Despite being bloody and scratched and obviously injured, you still stand as if you’re super girl about to face off with her greatest enemy yet. 

“i have no idea. i don’t really know.” He almost whispers it, because he doesn’t really know what he’s doing, or why. “but i don’t want to be the reason you hate the world so much. at least let me help you find a place to stay for a bit.”

Your mouth twists, and a range of emotions flip through your face: confusion, anger, sorrow, and finally it stops on that flat mask you had on. “..Okay, fine.”

He breathes out a sigh of relief.

He finds you a hotel to stay in, and while he wouldn’t usually pay for a stranger’s stay, he does for you. Seeing the person you had to deal with, the way they treated you…Something told him that wasn’t the only time they treated you badly. That’s a scary situation to think about, so of course you would be bitter and angry. He pays for a week, hoping it’s enough time for you to figure out what you need to do or for you to get a job.

He escorts you to your room, and it’s quiet but it isn’t uncomfortable. You’ve been through a lot, he guesses, so talking about it right now would be a little much. Instead, as you both reach your room, he asks to come in for a moment.

Puzzled, you agree, and let him in. It’s a small room, with a dresser pushed against the wall adjacent to the doorway, a lamp in the corner, and a bed opposite the dresser. Another door is in the far corner, which Sans assumes is the bathroom. There’s a table beside the bed, and on it is a pad with paper and a pen.

He picks them both off and scrawls his name and number on it, ripping off the page and giving it to you. “the dude that kicked you out looks like another bad time waiting to happen, so if he shows up here, don’t be afraid to call me, ok?” 

The hand that takes the paper is a little shaky. Your eyes skim over the words written, and the corner of your mouth quirks. “’Sans’? Like the font?”

He shrugs. “i get that a lot. anyways, i need to get back, paps is worried probably.” He points to the paper in your hand, shooting you a reassuring smile. “remember, dude’s a bad time. call me if he comes back. or call if you need help in general. seeya.”

With a blip, he’s gone, and you stare at the space (now replaced with air) he was just in. The most dumbfounded look creases your brow.

“…What the fuck did he just do?!”

Funnily enough, after the incident, he cannot stop thinking about you. He passes the place you used to live every day, and when he does he wonders if you’re okay. He’d check on you, but he did say that if you had a problem to call him. So he leaves the situation be, letting it be in your ballpark. If you need him there, you’ll call.

It’s been a long day, so he decides to go to Grillby’s for some ketchup and conversation. It’s been a while, and he hasn’t visited the surface expansion of Grillby’s very much, so he should fix that.

He teleports just outside the entrance and strolls in to a chorus of greeting from the regulars. Doggo, Greater Dog, and Lesser Dog are wrapped up in a game of poker, with Dogamy and Dogaressa watching on the side and holding each other. There’s a couple humans hanging around, along with a few monsters that didn’t usually frequent the establishment underground milling about. He waddles to the bar and hops into a bar stool, leaning on the counter and sighing, eyes shut.

“heya grillbz, what’s cookin’ good lookin’?”

A snort is his answer, but it sounds nothing like his favorite fire elemental.

He opens up an eye to see you, clad in a button up dress shirt with black slacks, an apron tied around your neck and waist. You look nothing like you did that night, which relieves him so much. There’s a hit of yellow and purple on your hands from the bruises you sustained, he notices, as you clean out a glass with a towel. Your nose is scrunched up from the bad joke he made, a small smile lighting up your face and causing a soft hue of blue to blossom on his face. 

“kid? that’s you?” He asks, opening his eyes fully, now very alert. 

“’Kid’ is not my name, but yeah, it’s me.” You also throw in your name, since you’ve neglected to tell him. Wow, your demeanor has changed completely since the grocery store fiasco, and it’s such a breath of fresh air. It’s nice to see you smile, even if it is a smug smirk.

“well damn, you clean up nice. how ya been doin’? i’m assumin’ the guy hasn’t been bothering you?” At the mention of him you tense, which leads him to backpedal, “wait, shit, sorry–”

“It’s fine! It’s fine.” You cut him off, the smirk having been wiped off your face and replaced with a small frown. “They uh, haven’t been bothering me. Haven’t heard a word from them since what happened.”

He relaxes at this. “good, good.” He breathes, slumping against the counter again. 

“…What can I get ya, Sans?” You ask, setting down the glass you were cleaning and propping your arm against the bar, quirking a brow at him. It’s sassy as hell and it isn’t helping that you’re gorgeous.

“your number.” He realizes what he said in the middle of saying it and slams his face into his palm as you laugh. “…i am so sorry. i’m used to crackin’ jokes like this with grillby.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine. What do you really want, though?”

Bless you and your nerves of steel. “uh, bottle of ketchup.”

An incredulous look crosses your face, but you grab one and slide it to him anyways. He twists off the cap and tips it back, almost spitting it out with laughter when you choke.

“Sans, the fuck?!” You stammer, and he wishes he could take a picture of your face because it’s so priceless. Maybe your nerves aren’t as solid as he thought.

If somebody told him six months ago that he’d fall head over heels in love with a human, and a human that initially hated his innocent soul of a brother no less, he’d laugh and call them crazy.

Thinking about it now, it’s not as crazy as it seemed. 

Because with every laugh and smile he gets from you, his SOUL thuds a little more forcefully in his chest, his face a touch blue-r, and he finds himself trying so hard to get them out of you that he doesn’t notice how deep he’s getting into this.

He doesn’t notice until his brother does.

“goin’ to grillby’s, want me to bring you back somethin’ paps?” He asks, sticking his head into the kitchen. Papyrus isn’t as oblivious as everyone believes him to be, and he proves it now as he smiles knowingly at his older brother, which only causes said brother to raise a brow bone in silent question.

“BROTHER, YOU SEEM TO BE GOING TO GRILLBY’S A LOT IN THESE PAST FEW MONTHS.” Papyrus stops stirring the pot of noodles he’s attending to on the stove to look at his brother. He notices, but it’s not like Sans makes an effort to hide it. He can see it in the way that he smiles sometimes when he gets a text from you, or how excited he is when he knows he’s about to see you.

He know what Sans looks like when he’s obsessed about something, or worried, or determined. Papyrus thought he’d seen it all. You’ve brought out a different side of him that Papyrus loves to see, because he look so happy nowadays.

“yeah, so? i used to go everyday when we were underground.”

“SANS, DEAR BROTHER, NOTHING EVADES THE WATCHFUL EYE OF THE GREAT PAPYRUS!” He exclaims triumphantly, pulling out his best smile. “…I am happy for you, Sans. I hope you bring them by soon to introduce them to me, because I would like to thank the person who has given you so much joy.”

It’s a rarity when Papyrus speaks in a regular volume of voice, and it shocks Sans to his core. “whaddya mean, pap?”

Papyrus laughs, turning back to his pot. “OH BROTHER, DON’T TELL ME YOU HAVEN’T NOTICED!”

“im-pasta-ble, i notice everything.” Sans’ smile turns wicked as Papyrus screeches out a warning to him and then he blips out of the way of the taller’s wooden ladle being thrown at him.

It’s become a habit, for him to watch you as you work. The way you move around the tables at the restaurant, the polite smile you give to the customers and the drastically different smirk you send him when he tosses out a pun, the lingering touch between you two when you give him a ketchup bottle. 

It kills him, in a way, because he knows what he’s feeling. He knows very well what this feeling is. His love life isn’t a very active one, but he does remember a few years back when he used to have a crush on Toriel, and this feels like that except new. It’s no longer a nice thought, but a fire that consumes his thoughts whenever he sees you. It’s not the heat of the blush on his face, it’s the ghostly imprint that your fingers leave on his. His SOUL doesn’t flutter, it beats purposefully. He knows what this is.

However, it’s not him that says or does anything about it.

As your shift comes to a close and he prepares to leave, you stop him. The place is almost empty, just a couple people wrapping up their meals or nursing their last drink. You look nervous, teeth gnawing on your bottom lip.

“what’s up?” He asks, and he almost jumps when you set a hand on ones of his, the one still on the counter top.

“Uh…There uh– There must be something wrong with my eyes, be-because uh–” You clear your throat, and he’s never seen your face go so red, wow. “Because I can’t take them off you?…”

He pauses for a moment before the statement processes through his head and his face goes full cerulean. “uuuuuuhh….”

“What…What I’m trying to say– Is it hot in here? Jeeze.” You tug at your collar, smiling sheepishly. “But uh. I was wondering if maybe you’d like to, I dunno, go see a movie? Or go somewhere for coffee? I’m sorry, I just really, really like you and I couldn’t be quiet about it anymore–”

You stop when you notice his expression. The poor skeleton’s face is completely blue, and his pupils have morphed into tiny hearts. He grabs your hand gently, and before he can chicken out he sputters out a reply.

“yes, hell yes. i’ll uh, i’ll text you later?”

It’s take a moment to sink in but when it does you smile so wide that it triggers his own. “Yeah! That’s cool! I’ll uh, be waiting? Yeah.”

Reluctantly he lets go of your hand and waves with his other, before disappearing and reappearing at the entrance of the inside of his home. 

You asked him out. You asked him out. He’s so giddy, he struts farther into the house and laughs, and it’s such a happy sound. He’s never heard such a sound come out of his body.

“YOU SOUND PLEASED.” Papyrus notes from his spot on the couch in the living room, wherein he’s doing some sort of human exercise program. Sans just beams in reply, hopping up the stairs two at a time to get to his room. “WHAT’S HAPPENED?”

Papyrus knows. He just wants to hear Sans say it.

“bringing them over later this week. you’ll see.”

anonymous asked:

Hey, you always have good opinions abt gender stuff so i was wondering what you think. Im a lesbian and i guess im what you might call low femme like i'll wear stuff like dungarees with a floral top or like a flannel over a lace dress. I 100% believe i couldnt care less what straight men think of me like they dont play a role in my life at all, if i want to look cute its for my gf/other women. Am i lying to myself and is the only way that could be true to stop wearing makeup and dresses?

Your phrasing is a little unclear here (when you say “am I lying to myself” I’m not really sure what you are referencing) but if you are asking whether I think there is anything wrong with personally enjoying makeup and dresses, then no. I think it is one thing to maintain an ideological critique of femininity and makeup especially, and another to act like people are required to live out their politics to an extent that makes them uncomfortable even when this makes absolutely no material gains. Feminists have tried this before- mandating androgyny in feminist, especially lesbian feminist, circles, such that butches and femmes were mandated either underground/in the closet wrt that aspect of their lesbianism, out of feminist circles, or just out of existence altogether. And it just resulted in a lot of uncomfortable women repressing ways in which they wanted to express themselves. It doesn’t do any useful work, and even if it did, it hurts people in the meantime. Having to maintain a very androgynous wardrobe instead of one I’m personally comfortable calling masculine would make me extremely uncomfortable, point blank.

I think there’s this idea that seems to be a bit too common among feminist lesbians that femmes are just ditzy and stupid and don’t have ANY feminist politics of their own or have not considered any of this, and it’s absolutely wrong and a horrible thing to claim about them. Almost every single femme I know tried very hard to make herself comfortable with either androgynous dress and behavior, more typically butch behavior, or more feminine behavior, and THEN came around to femme identity after a lot of thinking on it in a way that was just felt right and comfortable for them and that’s a good thing. On top of that, the femmes I know personally are some of the most critical of makeup, femininity, etc, the most resentful of its effects on women, and not thoughtless drones worshiping at the altar of feminity. The same claims are made about butches and masculinity, and they’re not true in either case.

There’s also this idea that femininity (here meaning a set of actions, behaviors, certain dress styles, etc, rather than the social system) is a single thing, and that the way femmes engage with femininity (and not all even see themselves particularly as feminine women) is the same as how straight women typically do. But not only do femmes typically behave totally differently than straight women (and again, they’re a group of lesbians who are all individual women with their own personalities, etc, just like every other group of women) wrt things like attention paid to men, comfort taking up social and conversational and physical space, very different fashions that flag as gay to other lesbians, etc, but I almost never miss femmes who are directly interacting with me, because they just don’t seem at all like straight women to me. They move differently, they talk differently, they show a different sense of comfort with me, and while straight women flirt with me all the time it’s totally different when it’s coming from another lesbian in a way you just feel. And the idea that the way femmes move, dress, do pretty much anything, has to be connected to men. I don’t put on clothes that I think will make me sexually appealing to men, and it makes no sense to assume that femmes do that either. So no, I don’t think you’re fooling yourself about what makes you feel sexy or attractive or for whom you want to look nice at all.

So if you’re worried that you are politically obligated to give up any elements of how you move or dress that make you comfortable, that’s not true and you shouldn’t be made to feel that way. You life is not a game of political chess, wherein your decisions are objectively good or bad politically and you’re obligated to try to win politically or something like that. It’s your life, and your goal should be to live it comfortably and happily, and whatever helps you do that (including dresses, or ties, or anything else) without hurting anyone else is a good thing. I’m not femme obviously so if you want I can refer you to a couple of friends who are and who’ve written some about that aspect of how they see themselves and they’ll have much more informed perspectives. I am sorry this is so long but I wanted to make sure I gave you a full answer. Sending you lots of love and I hope you figure out what makes you feel most comfortable!


A Snowbaz fanfic in which Baz hears Simon crying one night

(This is my first Fanfiction that I’ve ever shared publicly, so please let me know what you think. I hope you enjoy!!!)


It’s late when I get back to our room (I was rat hunting). 2 AM, or just past. I’ve done this a million times, I know how Simon sleeps, I know when he has nightmares, how to get rid of them without waking him up, and I know how to move about the room without him noticing I’ve even come in. I know. Tonight it’s different. I noticed almost immediately: he’s lying too still, and his breathing is irregular. He’s awake. He doesn’t turn to look. I get into bed, pretending not to notice. I usually fall asleep to the sound of his breathing, but I can’t concentrate when I know he’s still conscious. I hear his breathing stop, and suddenly a low sob. It wrenches my heart right out of my chest. Simon Snow doesn’t cry. He’s the chosen one, the Savior of the Mages. Simon Snow can’t cry. He eats sour cherry scones, and talks to Penelope, and kisses his perfect girlfriend with his perfect lips. I’m lying here in the dark, aching to hold him, because Simon Snow doesn’t cry. I should go help him…He doesn’t want my help.

Keep reading

Imagine an Imagine// Ian Carter Imagine// Idubbbz Imagine//

You try to balance the pizza in one hand as you open the door to Ian’s house, you rarely ever knock. You close it lightly and set the pizza on the counter looking around, the T.V is on, the menu of the movie playing over and over. Maybe he’s in the bathroom? you walk lightly down the hallway and hear something from his room. a sharp breath, and something of a groan, maybe he hurt himself? there’s a crack in the door, you look in but all you can see is Ian sitting in his chair, his head falls back and he groans again. you heart beats quick as you realize whats happening, Ian’s jerking off… Your cheeks warm and your chest feels both empty, and on fire at the same time. Never in your life did you think you’d walk in on something like this… but now you cant seem to tear your eyes away. you watch as the veins in his neck show themselves more, and his hand grips the arm rest and you see his shoulders raise. Ian is… extremely attractive when he’s full of bliss. Ian’s always attractive, you’ve always found him appealing. Right now though, you cant help but to be astounded by his attractiveness. you wish he was turned to the side slightly so you could see his hand moving on himself, but hes facing the other direction… he grips the arm rest again, and a deep groan erupts in the room, making you feel chills everywhere… especially in your center, where youre already throbbing. 

“fuck…!” he grits his teeth, and a wild moan escapes his lips, the groans get softer and softer before they die down, and he lays slack against the chair. you were so captivated you didn’t think about getting caught, so when he’s finished you tip toe to the door, and slam it.

“hey i got the pizza” you say, hoping it didn’t sound too forced. you try to relax a bit, but you know your cheeks must be red, you hear some crashing in his room.

“hol- hold on ill be right out!” he calls, you bite back your smile and walk over to the cupboard, grabbing a glass for yourself. you open the fridge and grab a coke, pouring it in the glass. 

“hey” Ian says behind you, you try to calm your face and turn with a slight smile.

“ayo” you say Ian raises an eyebrow, ayo? why would you say that? you scold yourself. Ian opens the [pizza box and you look him over. around his neck is a little red, you look down and see he’s wearing those grey sweatpants you secretly love. there’s a bulge in his pants, God did he not finish? was he still… aroused?  You follow him to his room and sit down on his bed, grabbing his laptop. you log into your Tumblr account, and scroll through. you used to be afraid to do this in front of Ian because you had written some fics about him, you had a huge crush on him but you were great at hiding it. You never wanted to ruin your friendship with him by asking too much of him. You had a great friendship, you got along great. You glance up as Ian fidgets with his desktop computer… you click on his search history, and click on the last page he viewed. it takes you to a long story? you recognize it a bit, faintly. as you start to read it you almost gasp, its your fic!!!  you exit out and log onto Facebook to get as far away from Tumblr as possible. you stare at the screen, but your mind is reeling. you were so descriptive in the fic! it was exactly your life with Ian, a fic about you finally coming onto him, and then fucking right where your sitting. you wonder if Ian knows, your heart is pounding incredibly. you glance up and hes just scanning over some website mindlessly. you bite your lip lightly, his arm was really the only thing you could see form the door. you look up at his eyes and hes looking at you. you blush deeply.

“uh-p-pizza, please” you say, he reaches over to the pizza box and hands it to you carefully, you set it on the bed and scoot back against the wall to curl up. you log into your Tumblr. you look over all of your fics, oh god what if he’s seen them all.  you feel Ian sit next to you, and you quickly go back to your dash to get away from your own stuff.

“whatcha doin” he asks, grabbing a slice of pizza. he sits next to you lazily leaning on his arm.

“uh, no-nothing” you say scrolling down to some aesthetic page and clicking on it. 

“oh god is that tumblr?” he asks, you shrug.

“its cool, i just like the pictures and stuff” you say fleetingly

“what do you post” he asks, you look over at him, he looks uninterested to say the least.

“not alot, i mostly look at other peoples pages” you say, lying.

“i wanna see” he says, you shrug and shake your head.

“no its boring” you say, Ian sits up.

“shut up, i wanna see” he says moving closer. you blush deep and he takes the laptop.

“Ian don’t!” you say trying to take it away but his arms are so long! you try to scramble over him and take it but hes already onto your page. you freeze as he stops. you realize almost instantly that you’re basically laying in his lap, you watch as he scrolls down to the fic he was reading earlier. you stare at it, remembering every word you wrote. 

“Ian…” you start, he looks down at you. you’re horrified…

“did you write this?” he asks, you swallow hard and scramble off of him, pushing yourself against the wall.

“no” you lie. he tilts his head.

“you did didn’t you?” he asks, you feel terrible.

“well you jerked off to it!” you say, he looks so surprised, a bit of blush spreading over his cheeks. 

“you watched me?” he says, you cover your face.

“oh god… oh my god” you curse yourself, somehow making yourself look like an even bigger creep. 

“you watched me while i was… jesus-fucking-christ. you know i kind of thought i smelled pizza i just thought it was kind of weird” you hear him say. you look up and see him staring at the wall on the other side of the room. you wrap your arms around your legs and pull them close to your chest. careful that your skirt doesn’t come up.

“I’m sorry… i should have never… I’m so sorry” you manage, Ian looks up and blinks, blushing deeply.

“i, wondered why that was so perfect” he says, you tilt your head.

“the story, everything was super realistic like how we usually are with each other, it made it so easy to imagine you-” he stops, catching himself. you watch as he blushes deeper you widen your eyes and raise your eyebrows.

“you were imagining me?” you ask, your voice soft. you watch as he readjusts himself, and crosses his legs, you look down and see the tent in his pants.

“i…” he doesn’t finish his sentence. you watch as he swallows hard. you relax a bit, knowing he was probably as into it as you were writing it.

“Ian do you want to have sex with me?” you ask, he runs his hand through his hair and looks over, your both stuck in an impossible situation.

“are you asking like, in general, or like right now?” he stammers. you raise your eyebrows, and trace your thumb over your lip. you know Ian, he would never be able to make the first move, and you’re so afraid to… but you do want to. right now. you lean forward and watch as he doesn’t move, he just watches you. you press your lips against his, and he kisses you back once you’ve connected. you feel his hand rest on your waist. you move and straddle him lightly kissing him deeply. you’ve always wanted to do this, ever since you’d met him. it was impossible not to be attracted to Ian, he’s funny, and kind, and protective… he holds your hips as you kiss him, you feel him grow beneath you. you part from him to look down, his eyes seem darker, his breath blanketing you softly, you watch as he leans in to kiss your neck, you relax and soak up the sensation. running your hand through his loose messy hair.you reach down and shed your shirt, feeling him kiss down to your chest.you grind down onto him before he can grope you. Ian lets out a groan and you burn that sound into your memory. you lift up lightly and place a hand on him. he leans back against the wall, his breathing is deep and quick as you feel him, he’s thick, and extremely hard. you pull at his sweat pants until its just his boxers. you swallow nervously as you pull at them lightly, pulling down until you see the shaft. Ian is really thick, the v line muscles in his stomach lead down to his dick, and you watch as you release it, the tip has a glistening drop of pre-cum. Ian winces a bit as you roll your finger over it lightly, he lets out a long breath. you look up at him, he looks up at you but he has to look back down at you touching him. you wonder if he likes to see you touch him, you wrap your hand around him and he swallows before groaning and pushing against you. Ian reaches forward and pulls your panties aside, his eyes seem to grow darker as he sees your eager wetness. he bites down hard, and you see his jaw flex before he drags a finger down you, making you shiver a bit. you cant wait any longer,  you guide him and lean forward. Ian’s cock slides against your already soaked slit and you let yourself down as he pushes into you. you let out a moan as he fills you up. stretching you out. you’re leaning forward against him, hes filling you up and you’re tense with pleasure.

“fuck… you’re so wet… and hot…fuck” he groans into your neck.

“i… i got turned on when i watched you… i wanted to see it” you whisper, now your breathing just as labored as his is. Ian grips your hips hard and groans as you move a bit, grinding into him. He’s sitting up, so kissing you isn’t hard for him since hes taller than you by a bit. you feel his lips latch to yours and his soft tongue glide against your bottom lip. your breath seems to get harder to catch as you grind forward. Ian’s strong arm wraps around to your bare back and pull you forward as his other hand grips your hip, pulling you down .every time his length hits that sweet spot you cant help but to moan. its not even voluntary anymore, its all primal. you moan against his lips and he pulls you tighter, seemingly liking the noise.

“It feels so good Ian…” you whimper, he presses his lips against your neck as he nods.

“so fucking good” you moan, grinding down over and over, driving towards that growing feeling deep inside of you. you hear his cursing over the bliss that’s almost blinding you.

“I’m close” you whimper through your moans. he pushes up into you, both of you moving faster, more and more pleasure writhing both of your bodies.Ian reaches down and lifts your skirt using his thumb to hold it up so he can watch himself push into you.

“fuck…” his voice is breathy, and needy. he looks your body up and down, and tenses a bit, pushing harder and harder into you until your eyes start to water from the pressure inside of you.

“oh god… fuck… Ian ..!” you moan. leaning forward and bracing yourself on the wall to move faster.

“you’re gonna make me come” he warns, his voice is deep, you love that voice.

“come inside me…” you whisper.

“hmm?” he says after a long groan.

“i wanna feel it… i don’t want you to pull out Ian i wanna keep feeling this” you say, he groans again, almost a growl, you feel him wrap an arm around you to the small of your back. pulling at you, moving you faster. you feel yourself reaching your orgasm and you cant control your volume, your moan is a scream, a scream of his name as you erupt atop him. each wave hits you just a bit softer than the first, blissful all the same. you give off soft moans as the waves soften, and you open your eyes to see Ian tense even more watching you. your orgasm tightened around him, and he pulls you against him, groaning loudly into your neck, and up to your cheek as you feel him twitch inside you, and shake around you. you stay still as you both come down from your high. you search for his lips, even though yours tingle, you kiss him softly. his arms are still around you, as if he doesn’t want to let go.

“I’ve imagined this… a lot” you say he smiles a bit, shyly.

“i wasn’t even close to how good it would be” you say he huffs a small laugh, and you watch as his hands trace up your thighs. Ian moves lightly lifting you a bit to pull himself out, you wince a bit at the sharp departure, Ian sucks in a breath as well, but pulls you down with him as he falls. you lay against him in his bed and watch as he pulls his boxers over his softening cock. then his sweat pants. you lay against hi chest and listen to his heartbeat thumping rhythmically.  


After deciding not to give a fuck….I decided to post one of my favorite Jimin smuts I wrote.

I dont know how long I will keep this up lol 

Disclaimers: Jimin is in college. And the main character is in her last year of college and wants to be a college professor.  Its smut. So dont read if you dont like smut. I will block your hate anons if I get any. 

@hobiandthe95z @e-lamia-vita @danibabyluv @halfheartedwish  @bangtans-baby

“Private Lessons”

You x Park Jimin (BTS)

Rated M

Part ½

You didn’t know why you liked him so much. He was so much younger than you. You weren’t supposed to feel this way about someone you tutored. If your boss found out how you felt about Jimin, you would lose your student teaching job.

You were already too comfortable with Jimin. He had already visited your apartment a few times so you could help him with papers. He already seen you without makeup. You wouldn’t change out of your leggings or shorts. Despite how short or tight they were.

Nothing happened between you too. But you saw the way Jimin looked at you. He knew you wanted him. You were playing with fire but you couldn’t resist.  You were addicted to how forbidden this was.

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