things to do with your boyfriend

- watch twin peaks
- watch stranger things
- watch conspiracy videos on youtube
- go out to hunt cryptids together
- post your blurry photos of bigfoot together on a forum
- ignore the low rumbling noise in the woods
- mysteriously disappear without a trace into the void on a foggy wednesday morning, only to reappear exactly ten years later without having aged a day
- get starbucks and try each other’s drinks

inevitable realizations ☼ peter parker

summary : peter’s always been a little bit in love with you, it just took a difficult night and warm, ever comforting words for him to come to the realization. intelligent he may be, but he’s a clueless teenage boy before anything else.

word count : 2.5k

   It was eleven o’clock at night and, as per usual, you were neglecting the sleep you desperately needed in order to finish up the notes on your assigned reading novel that were due in just a few short hours. You were never one to finish tasks, especially menial ones such as homework, in a timely fashion. This was just the tip of the iceberg. You briefly took off your glasses, rubbing your tired eyes that were now struggling to focus on the words in front of you properly. When you slipped them back over your nose, glancing up toward your bedroom window that lead out to the fire escape, you saw the familiar face of your best friend peering in through the glass in a way that was only slightly creepy. 

   Peter knocked rapidly on the glass, waving at you in the typical, hyperactive way that he always had about him. You jumped off your bed, reaching out to shut your bedroom door before walking over to the bay window and unlocking it. A rush of cold winter air nipped at your face the minute it swung open and Peter Parker shoved himself through. Visits from him in this particular manner were common, especially after a day’s work of fighting crime throughout various parts of New York, but not usually this late- and never without a text to alert you first.  

    “You must be freezing,” you shivered, closing the window quickly. “How long were you out there?” Making yourself comfortable on your bed once again, you propped open your book, ready to force him into helping you study. He didn’t answer. Instead, he drew his sweatshirt closer to his body, sliding to the floor beside your bed and leaning his head against the soft duvet. His curls were sticking up in every direction when he pulled his hood away, his cheeks and the tip of his nose a brilliant shade of red, but not from the bitter chill that was sweeping mercilessly over Queens. 

   You heard a distinct sniff, then another, then another. His breathing, already shallow from the frantic climbing he had done to reach your fire escape, became even more labored. He pulled his knees to his chest to hide his face. He felt you press yourself against him, your arms around his shoulders and across his chest before he could pull away in embarrassment. Your glasses creaked when they pushed too far into his shoulder. Neither of you moved. You clung to him and he sat there, silently shaking and leaning into your embrace as if it were the only thing keeping him from falling apart. 

   “Hey, hey, shh, shh, Peter, you’re okay,” you whispered, rubbing his back. “I’ve got you, I promise. You’ve gotta breathe, though, okay?” He was always ashamed of his sensitivity, but he couldn’t help it. He was a sensitive boy and he cried easily and had an awful lot of anxiety sometimes. Today was one of those days, with good reason. He nodded stiffly, maneuvering himself to hug you back, face pressed into your shoulder this time. 

   “It’s… the anniversary,” he said, his voice broken. “One year.” Hollow. “One year since- since Ben. One year tomorrow.” 

   He pulled away, wiping his nose on the sleeve of his oversized sweatshirt. There were traces of tears still making their way down his cheeks, sliding across his nose and down to his lips. He tried to rub them away, too, but you caught his wrist in your hand. 

   “You’re not wrong or less of a dude for crying, Peter.” The way you looked at him, so lovely and caring and worried, made his heart cry out for the safety of your embrace again. “Were you at the cemetery?” You matched his stance and rested the side of your cheek on your knee, still carefully studying his face. 

   “Yeah,” he exhaled, placing his chin in his palm. “I’m gonna go again in the morning with May. Gonna miss school. I- I probably should’ve, um, stayed with her tonight but I…” he trailed off, “I needed you.” He said it as he said most things to you, with his soft tone of voice and his hesitance that made him, him. He never really noticed until now. 

   “What are best friends for, right?”  

    “Yeah. Best friends.” 

    Ignoring the odd way those two words slipped out of his mouth, you said, “I’m sorry, Peter. I know you loved Uncle Ben so much. I’m sorry, you don’t deserve this. You and May don’t deserve this.” You reached out to him, your hand gripping his without an ounce of doubt. You had small hands and he didn’t but he felt a thousand times better when yours found his. “I’m always here for you. Do you wanna talk about it?” 

   Surprisingly, he shook his head adamantly. “No, no.” He squeezed your hand. “I kind of, um, just wanna go to bed. Crying like a little baby really tires a guy out, you know?” He gave a weak laugh, a tiny grin, and you smiled right back at him before pulling him to his feet. “Can I use the bathroom?” He needed to wash the sticky feeling of dry tears off his face, rub the sadness out of his eyes. He wanted to be strong for May when he got back in the morning. 

   “Of course, just be quiet. Mom and dad are asleep.” You padded across your rug and opened your door a crack, holding it in a specific way so that it wouldn’t creak when you let Peter through. He gave you a grateful squeeze of the hand again before disappearing into the bathroom. 

    He splashed water on his face, staring up at his reflection, at the water dripping off his eyelashes and the curling ends of the hair that was plastered to his forehead. He rubbed at his face and took a deep breath. He wasn’t going to cry anymore. You had sufficiently comforted him for the night. Peter could breathe again. 

   Peter quietly walked back down the hallway and into your bedroom, watching for a second as you pulled spare blankets down from a shelf in your closet and arranged them on your bay window. You had cleared your bed of your school supplies and had left the covers open for Peter to crawl into without a second though. Which he did. Your covers smelled quite lovely, actually. It was the scent of your perfume that you wore often enough for him to recognize the scent, and he wanted to fall asleep under the inviting covers that were laid out for him. Then, he saw you sit atop your window, about to lie down. 

   “Wait, why are you doing that?” He got out of bed and took your hand for the third time that night, growing accustomed to the feeling of it. He pulled you over to your bed. “You’re not sleeping on a stupid window. That’s ridiculous. I’ll take the window.” He spun you around and ignored the protestant noise you made, gripping your shoulders and sitting you down on the bed. 

   “I’m not letting you take the window, either!” You argued, yanking him back down on the bed. He huffed, glaring at you in a teasing manner. “C’mon, just take the bed. You need it more than I do.” His glare dropped to his lap, an idea rolling around in his head. “What?” 

   “Y/N, how about we just both take the bed?” He said finally, lifting his eyes back to yours. He wasn’t sure what made him say it, why he didn’t just take the floor like he probably should have, but the words were out there in the world and there wasn’t a way to take them back now. You bit your lip, then shrugged, scooting over. 

   “It is big enough for the two of us.” You turned away from him, turning off your lamp and getting under the covers. You heard Peter slide in next to you, but your back was toward him until he poked you sharply. “What’s wrong, Peter?” 

   “Can you- um, well-” 

   You flipped over on your side, just barely making out his face in the darkness of your room. “Do you want me to cuddle you?” Though you said in a teasing sort of tone, you were silently quite pleased when he mumbled a reluctant yes. You moved closer, one arm going around his waist and the other underneath him. Your head was on his chest, listening to the resilient beating of his heart. He placed his chin atop your head. He focused on the sound of your steady breaths until you were sleeping peacefully beside him. 

    He was so grateful for you- the person who stood by his side throughout anything and everything. You, so strong and beautiful and brave and comforting in his times of distress. You, who never seemed to waver in your loyalty to him. You, the very picture of loveliness and a girl who he’d very much like to- 

   His eyes flew open, and he almost jumped away from you. He didn’t want to risk you awakening, though, so he stayed put, freaking out internally rather than externally the way he was prone to doing. He had been thinking of kissing you. That was what he was going to say. Kiss. The thought had come so simply to his brain it was like he already thought the same thing for years. Maybe he had. It wasn’t like he was blind. You were a stunning girl, even if you didn’t think so yourself, you were his best friend, you were practically perfect and Peter would be an idiot to not adore you the way that he did. 

   Adore, adore, adore. Oh, boy. Peter glanced down at you, sleeping in his arms, and confirmed what he had so stupidly never noticed before. His infinitesimal, brief affection for Liz Allen had absolutely nothing on his all encompassing love for you. 

   Peter bid you goodbye that morning at six thirty sharp, before either of your parents had woken up for work. Before he slipped out your window and into the cracks early morning sunlight, he had pressed a gentle, chaste kiss to your cheek. It was only the briefest touch of his lips to your face, but you had held your face, right in that spot, for practically the entire day. Ned had questioned why, but you brushed him off with an answer of exhaustion. 

   The day after that, Peter returned to school, dragging Ned off to the side as soon as he stepped off the train platform. He had waited for the other boy purposely, seeking advice. 

   “I have a huge, gigantic, terrible awful problem right now, Ned!” He exclaimed as soon as he saw him, throwing his hands up in the air. “I need help.” 

   “Psychiatric help,” Michelle supplied, appearing out of nowhere as she usually did before walking down the path to school. 

   Ned shrugged. “She’s not wrong.” 

   Peter, frantic, seized Ned’s shoulders and shook him. “This is not a roast Peter session! This a cry for help! Help me, Ned Leeds!” 

   “Am I your only hope?” Peter wanted to scream. 

   “This isn’t the time for Star Wars puns, either!” Not waiting for Ned to quip back that every time was Star Wars time, Peter said, loudly, “I’m in love with Y/N and I don’t know what to do!” He ran his hands in his hair, wanting to pull it out. “I just- I just realized the other night! Everything just kind of, like, clicked and I’ve been so stupid. I should’ve realized it before, but of course I didn’t and now I have no idea what to do!” 

   “Wait, dude, you seriously have never noticed this before? Are you kidding me? Peter, you’re supposed to be the genius of the school. I feel let down.” Ned shook his head solemnly. “Dude, everyone knows you love her. Even Flash. That’s why he picks on her all the time. He likes pissing you off and nothing gets under your skin more than someone messing with Y/N. She’s the first one you told about being Spider-Man, you go to her for all your problems, you practically pee yourself racing to be her partner for almost everything- not science because science is our subject, but still. I figured you knew you loved her and just didn’t wanna talk about it because she’s out of your league.” 

   “Hey! I am not-” He stopped. “So what if I am? That’s not even the point. The point is that I love her. Me realizing it was inevitable, even if it took me like eighty years to get there. Doesn’t matter. I’ve gotta tell her, right?”

   “You totally should,” Ned encouraged. “She’s definitely in love with you, too.” 

    Hopefully, Peter grinned. “You really think so?” 

    “Anything’s possible!” 

    “The reassurance you give me is suffocating, Ned. Stop before I die.” 

    That day in gym class, Ned and Peter went off to the side to pretend they were doing stretches while you sat with Michelle and conversed about literature for the first half of the period. Your conversation, however, soon led off into other directions. 

    “Hey, MJ, have you ever… I don’t know, been in love?” 

    Michelle raised her eyebrows. “Only with crushing the patriarchy. Why? Have you?” The intuitive girl already knew your answer, of course, but she was invested in you and Peter’s love story and was desperate to hear the truth from your own lips. 

   You played with the hem of your shirt, thinking. Peter and Ned casually inched closer, having been listening to the conversation for quite sometime now. They were unapologetically nosy. “I think I am.” 

   “With who?” Peter clasped his hands together, silently pleading with the universe to grant him this one wish. I promise, universe, I’ll never ask for anything ever again in my whole life if you just let this girl love me back I swear I’ll be the best Spider-Man there ever was and I’ll protect New York until I’m eighty five just please oh my god please- 

   “With Peter.” 

   The gasp he let out was involuntary, but you didn’t hear him. He turned to Ned, his expression of shock, as well as elation, mirroring Peter’s own. Suddenly, Ned stood, shouting for the entire gym class to hear, “Y/N! Peter loves you too!” You looked up, Michelle’s happy and knowing smirk going unnoticed by you because the only thing you could focus on was Peter and what Ned had just declared. 

   The gym fell silent, every student turning to stare at you and Peter. You were frozen in shock up until the bell rang and everyone filed out quickly, leaving you and Peter alone. 

   “Did he mean it?” You asked, your sneakers squeaking against the floor as you closed the distance between you and Peter, your head tilted to meet his. 

   “It’s the truest thing anyone has ever said.” His lips met yours, and the slant of his mouth against your own was a feeling you could definitely come to adore more than you already did after just one kiss. 


Entanglement: (m) Namjin x Reader

Word count: 5.4k

Genre/warnings: Polyamory, smut, dirty talk

This isn’t very long because I wanted the second part to go into more detail and whatnot but enjoy :)

Parts: one | two 

Originally posted by yngissi

It was quite an interesting life you led. You were dating Kim Namjoon, a young successful writer who had his own publishing company. He was dashing and smart who treated you like a queen. People knew you had met him from your current boss Kim Seokjin. He was handsome and sexy, kind of an asshole but for some reason that worked for him. They had met in college, hating each other, competing against each other for grades, girlfriends, money, anything with an eyesight of each other. That was until one day they were assigned to be partners for a project in class. They had fought against it but surprisingly to them, they ended up liking each other. So much so that they ended up in bed together even more than that, they’ve been dating since.

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anonymous asked:

Do you have any advice on what to do if you lose your joy and interest in writing when a writer was how you identified yourself?

(wry look) Life just pulled one of those cute things where I had three-quarters of a response written and I hit the wrong keys somehow and it all went away. Which tells me that this is important. So let me recreate it.

The best advice I’ve got for you right now is to lean back and wait, because normally the joy and interest will come back. Being a writer, and having enjoyed and been interested in it previously, isn’t something that goes away all that easily. The set of behaviors that make up being a writer are complex and difficult to ingrain… which is going to make the ability to do this kind of work difficult to lose even if you were trying to do so. So, first of all: take heart.

Now it has to be said that, human nature and psychology (and nature itself) being the cranky intransigent things they sometimes are, it may (paradoxically) be necessary for your recovery of your joy and interest in the work to completely surrender to the concept that you might actually have permanently lost it. I know this sounds counterintuitive, but the effectiveness of simply giving up is sometimes surprising.  There’s a saying attributed to Carl Jung, the father of the concept of Archetype as we now understand it, that goes like this: “What you resist, persists; and not only does it persist, but it gets bigger in size.” (There’s a good long article about this concept over here in Psychology Today: worth looking at. …Though I also have to say that the illo at the top is hilarious and perfect, because Kylo Ren should frankly be the poster child for the whole idea.)

My own experience suggests that there are times when as soon as you give up, the thing that’s been eluding you either collapses to the ground where you can just stroll over and reclaim it, or turns around and runs headlong into your arms. Frustrating, but what can you do? When the whole point is to get whatever it is back, the idea that it played you a little in the process will after the fact seem less of an issue.

Possible causes for what’s going on with you are worth touching on briefly. I’ve had occasion to post a number of times about something that C. S. Lewis codified in The Screwtape Letters as “the Law of Undulations”. Now as much as I love him, there would be a lot of things that Clive and I would disagree about, but this wouldn’t be one of them. I think he was really onto something. So take a look at that basic post, and then we can move on a bit.

With the Law in mind, while you’re working on what “giving up” might look like – assuming you need to go that far – here are some possibly similar situations and strategies to consider.

Some of the above situations come with suggestions of possible things you can do about them. But do not underestimate the power of simply waiting a while and not doing anything. It’s worth emphasizing that in our culture as it stands at the moment, there’s endless emphasis on immediately DOING THINGS to fix what ails you. Sometimes not doing anything is more effective – though to some people that’s going to sound heretical, and you’ll run the risk of being accused of laziness (not least by the back of your own mind, once it realizes you’re onto something that’s going to give you back control of the situation. The self-sabotaging wiliness of a subconscious about to lose its advantage can be a terrifying thing… but even that loses some of its terrors when your conscious mind suspects or knows what it’s up to.) Anyway, ignore that noise.

Give doing nothing a good long chance. Stoke up on your reading. Get caught up on TV and movies if that’s your thing. Do other work. Create something that isn’t writing. (Cooking’s good for this. I love being responsible for mighty successes or godawful failures in the kitchen and knowing that the critics at Kirkus and PW are not going to give the slightest damns about it.)

But tl:dr; Don’t despair: just kick back and wait. And see how it goes.

…And eventually let me know how you get on. :)  HTH.

Balcony Scene (ALiL Deleted Scene)

Summary: (College!AU): In which an impromptu performance of Shakespeare occurs at the foot of your stairs.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 1,558

A/N: @snugglebuck requested: Omg so I just say this prompt list and one of them was “i was on my balcony and you started loudly quoting romeo and juliet at me” and all I could think about was ALIL and Bucky doing this or like even when the reader is at the top of a staircase and like even better when he’s drunk or something. This takes place between “The Honeymoon Phase” and “Jealousy”

“A Lesson in Love” Masterlist + Soundtrack

@avengerstories - I can’t thank you enough for always editing my stuff for me. 

Originally posted by sixsunflowersbloom

After what felt like an endless day of classes, you decide to treat yourself to a night off. In order to fully enjoy yourself, you change into the coziest pajamas you can find and take all of your best snacks out of hiding. Once you’ve gotten everything you need in order, you close the door to your room and turn off the lights. The darkness adds to the overall movie theater atmosphere that you want to create for your night of Netflix and relaxation.

You’re halfway through your second movie when your door flies open. The bright light from the hallway is a shock to your system and you cover your eyes automatically, blindly searching for the space bar on your laptop to pause what you’re watching. “What?”

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anonymous asked:

Phil loves to watch dans ass bounce while they fuck

  Author’s Note: I couldn’t stop thinking about that big sean song while i wrote this lmao                                                                                                                  “knew that ass was real when I hit, it bounce back”                                              also when i was trying to type babe i accidentally typed abe and i kept picturing abraham lincoln it was horrid (611 words) 

Phil smirked when Dan moaned and arched his back, leaning into the fingers Phil was currently thrusting in and out of his slick hole. “That’s it babe, fuck yourself on my fingers,” he goaded. Dan moaned and nodded, fucking back on Phil’s stilled fingers. “Want you to fuck me, Phil… C’mon I’m ready..”, Dan begged, rolling his eyes slightly at the way Phil’s gaze was transfixed on his ass. “Stop staring and fuck me already,” he complained.

 A satisfying crack filled the air as Phil yanked his fingers out of Dan’s hole and spanked him firmly. “Don’t tell me what to do.” He chuckled, grabbing Dan’s thighs and pushing them further apart. “Love this ass, baby. I’m gonna fuck you so hard you regret begging for it.”

 Dan wiggled his hip teasingly and looked back at his boyfriend, “Try me,” he challenged, raising an eyebrow and smiling. Phil shook his head but couldn’t help the smile that was tugging at his lips. He shuffled further forward and settled himself behind Dan, tugging his pants off and stroking his cock quickly with his still slick hand before lining himself up with Dan’s rim and thrusting in.

 Barely giving the younger boy any time to adjust to the large stretch, Phil started pounding into him, one hand on his hip and the other between his shoulder blades pushing him down against the bed. “Fuck! Phil!” Dan whined, wiggling until his hand was beneath him and gripping his length, stroking himself in time with Phil’s thrusts. “That’s good. Touch yourself for me, Dan. Make yourself come on my cock.”

 Phil ran a hand down the boy’s back and refocused his gaze on Dan’s ass, his eyes traveling from where his cock was pounding in and out to where it was bouncing and jiggling every time Phil’s hips slammed into him. This was pretty much his favorite part of fucking Dan. The way his boyfriend’s ass jiggled and he clenched around him, the way he would occasionally look back at Phil with that faux innocent smile, teasing him with his eyes until a particularly hard thrust made his expression crumple back into lust. He loved that.

 “Gonna come, Phil.. Oh my god…”, Dan moaned, moving his hand rapidly over his cock and rocking back into every one of Phil’s thrusts. “Come for me then. You know I won’t stop though,” he reminded, knowing that would just push Dan even closer to the edge. He was right. Dan whimpered at the thought of Phil fucking into him long after he was finished, holding him in place and ignoring his pathetic noises as the man’s cock brushed his spot.

 “Fuck- fuck! Ahh.. -Phil!”, Dan babbled, coming over his hand and squirming in Phil’s grip. He kept a hand on himself until it was too much and then collapsed into the bed, his hips being held up by Phil while the man continued to fuck him. “Good boy, Dan,” Phil praised, panting and nearing the edge himself.

 Dan was now letting out strained whines that sounded arousingly close to sobs as Phil fucked him, and he turned his head to watched as Phil gripped his hips even tighter than before and stilled, coming into his waiting hole. “Shit..”, he swore, fucking into Dan through his orgasm before pulling out and sighing, running his hands soothingly down the back of the boy’s thighs.

 Dan crumpled into a sleepy pile on the bed and whined a bit as Phil huffed out a laugh and teased him, “Do you regret begging now?”

  Dan assessed the pain that was begging to settle in his back and ass. “Not even a little bit.”

anonymous asked:

Hi! Could you do 28 with Peter? btw, I love your writing, I just find your blog and omg, love it❤️

ahhh thank you so much!! I hope you like this one! 💝 I feel like it’s been forever since I’ve uploaded anything ahah 😅 (lol I think it’s only been like a week whoops)

frenly reminder I’m not currently taking anymore requests for prompts/etc.! I’ve had some more requests come in over the week and just wanted to remind everyone who might be new to my blog that I won’t be taking anymore while I work on the remainder of the ones in my inbox. I’ll let you know as soon as requests are open again 💞

#28 “Babe, I’m never gonna finish this work if you keep doing that.”

Distractions | One shot

“Peterrrrr,” she whined, draping herself over her boyfriend’s shoulders. “Pay attention to meeee.”

Peter chuckled, looking up from what he was working on. His Spiderman suit was laid out across his desk, he had been prodding at the wires, making minor adjustments and improvements.

“Not now babe, I gotta work on the suit a little more,” he tilted his head back to meet her gaze. She was doing her best puppy dog eyes, sticking her bottom lip out at him. He leaned up and kissed her and she immediately took the initiative, spinning his chair around and dropping herself in his lap, deepening the kiss.

“Babe,” he groaned into her mouth. “I really gotta get this done. I’ll take you out to dinner or somethin’ after, promise.”

“But you’ve been working on that damn suit for hours,” she whined again, throwing her head back dramatically.

“I’ll be done sooner if you let me focus for more than five minutes without constantly trying to grope me,” he laughed, brushing a few stray hairs out of her face. “And then I’ll have all the time in the world to focus on you.”

She narrowed her eyes at him before huffing, hopping off his lap and throwing herself onto his bed with a loud “UGH!”

He laughed at her again before turning back to his desk. She watched him from his bed as he tinkered with his suit, his nimble fingers plucking at the wires. She threw her head back on the pillow with another huff, eyeing him for his reaction. Or lack thereof.

At his desk, he rolled his eyes and smirked as he listened to her tossing herself around on his bed. He knew it was driving her crazy, and as much as he wanted to climb on top of her and worship her all night, he had to make sure his suit was functioning properly or it’d never get done.

After ten minutes of being ignored by Peter, she propped the pillow up against the headboard, angling herself to get a good view of him. She’d get his attention one way or another. Wiggling her hips, she slid her sweatpants and underwear off and propped her legs apart, sliding her hand down and rubbing little circles over her clit. After a few minutes, she began to get noisy, her breathing becoming heavier and she let out a small whimper. She saw Peter pause at the sound and he spun around in his chair, his mouth falling open at the sight of her.

“Are you serious right now?” he whined. His girl was spread out on his bed, in his shirt, giving him a front row seat of her playing with herself.

“Mm, what is it Petey?” she said dreamily, not stopping her ministrations on her clit. She slowly pulled up the shirt she had stolen from him, exposing her bare chest to him. She ran her hand over one of her breasts, rolling her finger over her nipple and playing with the metal barbell in it.

He exhaled sharply, spinning around and going back to his suit.

“Nothing,” he muttered.

She grinned, watching him from her place on the bed as she continued rubbing her clit, sliding a finger inside herself and letting out a high-pitched gasp. Peter felt his dick twitch under his sweatpants and tried to push out all thoughts of her and what he wanted to do to her from his mind.

“Babe, I’m never gonna finish this work if you keep doing that.” he pleaded as he heard her moan again, as she continued to touch herself.

“Better hurry, or I might finish before you get to,” she sing-songed from across the room, noting the now painfully prominent boner straining against his sweatpants.

He clenched his teeth together, all he wanted to do at this point was pin her to his bed and go at her until she was a sensitive, trembling mess. Desperately trying to ignore the erotic noises she was making, he focused on the wires in his suit, quickly reconnecting them. Finished, he threw it down on his desk and silently moved to his bed where his girlfriend was still convulsing, eyes shut and not noticing Peter had gotten up.

She felt his hand around her wrist as he pulled it from between her legs and pinned it above her. Her head snapped up off the pillow and she met his eyes, his pupils dilated so far that she almost couldn’t find the hint of chocolate brown around them. Grabbing her hips, he pulled them up off the bed to meet his mouth.

“Peter!” she shrieked as he buried himself between her thighs, his hands gripping her hips to keep her from toppling over.

Her shrieking quickly turned into low groans as his tongue flicked her clit, before licking and sucking her outer lips. She squirmed in his grip, her hips bucking upwards against his mouth as he licked up and down her pussy. Resting on her shoulders, her eyes rolled back as he swirled his tongue over her clit, gently massaging her hips with his hands.

Dipping lower, his tongue teased her entrance and she jerked under his grip. She felt him smile against her before sliding his tongue inside her, brushing against her inner walls. She wrapped her ankles around his head, trying to coax him deeper inside her. He got the message, and began pushing his tongue in and out of her as she squirmed against him, going deeper each time he re-entered her.

“Peter… oh my god… I’m..” she mumbled, unable to find her words as he continued dragging his tongue over her core. She felt the heat building in her abdomen and gripped the bed covers beneath her.

“Gonna come… Peter I’m gonna come…” she finally found the sentence she’d been searching for and felt him tighten his grip on her as he began sucking on her sensitive nub. Her mouth fell open and she thrusted her hips up towards his mouth, crying out his name as she felt herself tipping over the edge, when he pulled away from her.

He gently lowered her hips back to the bed, and she whined at the absence of him.

“What? You think you’re the only one who gets to be a tease?” he grinned, his mouth and chin slick with her juices.

She huffed in frustration and he slid his shirt off, tossing it over his head before hooking his thumbs in the waistband of his sweatpants. She sat up as his member sprung free and pulled the shirt she wore off and crawled closer, taking him in her hand. She gazed up at him, kissing the base of his cock and dragging her tongue upwards.

His let out a throaty groan and leaned back on his ankles as she slowly moved back down, pressing kisses on the underside of his shaft. She wrapped her lips around him and began bobbing her head up and down over him. Running his fingers through her hair, he gently pushed her down further. The tip of his cock brushed against the back of her throat and he hissed, tightening his grip on her hair. She hummed around him as she proceeded to deep throat him, when he pulled her back.

“W-Wait,” he stammered. “Not yet… I wanna come inside you.”

Gently pushing her on her back, he crawled over her, trailing sloppy kisses up her neck. He teased her entrance with the tip of his cock, dragging the tip up and down, and a small whine escaped her throat.

“You have no patience at all, do you?” he chuckled, pushing himself inside her.

He felt her relax immediately as his cock filled her, wrapping her arms around his neck and snaking her fingers through his brown curls. Hooking her legs over his hips, he began slowly moving in and out of her.

“Peter…” she moaned in his ear, her hips rocking with his.

“Yes princess?” he hummed in her ear. He wrapped an arm around her waist, and began peppering kisses along her jaw.

“It f-feels so good,” she whimpered against his ear, digging her nails into his back.

“God, you feel amazing,” he murmured, licking and sucking her neck, leaving red marks across her skin.

Her cries grew louder as she edged closer to her climax, pressure building inside her. He grabbed her wrists and held them above her head as thrusted himself inside her harder, his hips slapping against hers. He could feel her walls gripping him as he pushed deeper inside her, bringing him closer to his own orgasm. She writhed underneath him, mumbling incoherent pleas in his ear as the friction between their bodies continued to build.

“I want you to come for me, princess.” he whispered at the base of her neck, dragging his tongue over her skin.

“Peter… uhhh…” she wrapped her legs tighter around his waist, holding him close as her body stiffened. “Oh god, Peter!”

“Fuck!” he growled, burying his face in her neck as he slowed his thrusting, shuddering as he erupted inside her. He spent what could have been an hour slowly rocking against her body, waves of pleasure washing over both of them as they continued to ride out their orgasm. Each moment left her in bliss, her body clenching around him and coating his member with her release. His body finally relaxed and he collapsed on top of her, both of them shaky and panting.

He placed a kiss on her forehead before getting up and disappearing to the bathroom, where he returned with a damp towel. He sat down next to her and started cleaning her up, her breathing still irregular as her heart rate began to slow back down.

Her hands moved up his neck, cupping his face and pulling him down to her, kissing him softly. He rolled over on his back, pulling her on top of him and running his fingers through her hair. They remained still for a moment, listening to the sound of each other’s breathing, her curled up against his chest as he continued twirling strands of her hair around his fingers.

“I love you so much,” he whispered, kissing the top of her head delicately. 

“I love you too Peter.“

House // Jeff Atkins

A/N: Long as hell. Sad as hell. Feat. Good Friend! Monty

Named after: ‘House M.D.’ good show

“Right now she’s in a medically induced coma. We’re tending to her head trauma…” the doctor tells him.

Jeff tunes out the rest of doctors explanation, unable to listen any longer. He wishes he was deaf so he couldn’t listen any longer.

You were here too, in the emergency room. You were the subject the doctor was going on about. In critical condition. You flew through the windshield during the crash and ended up way worse than Jeff.

He suffered a fair share of injuries from the accident. He fractured a few ribs, his legs were cut and bruised but overall okay, his wrist for sure was gone and there was no way he’d be able to play this season but he wasn’t thinking about that right now. The doctor said he was very lucky, but he felt far from it.

His nose was broken and the tears that fell from his eyes mixed with the blood dripping from his nostrils. He looked, like a character from a Tarantino movie to say the least.

“Can I see her?” He pleaded, voice cracking in those simple four words.

“I’m sorry Mr. Atkins, we can only let immediate family see her at this-”

“PLEASE” Jeff wailed. It was his fault you were even in this situation and now he couldn’t see you.

It’s his mom’s hand that fits into his, squeezing lightly both in solidarity and in trying to get him to let doctors tend to his more superficial wounds.

“Sir, you have four fractured ribs. You need to remain calm as you could puncture a lung. She should be stabilized by Tuesday, in which we would bring her out of the coma…and you can see her then. I’m sorry.” The Doctor said before turning on his heel and walking away.

The sound of the emergency room was deafening to Jeff’s ears. He wanted to leave. He couldn’t bare to look at your mother’s tear filled eyes through the glass. Couldn’t handle it when your father asked him if he was okay.

“Mijo, look at me.” His mother whispered softly to him.

And Jeff turned to greet the woman with whom he shared the same eyes.

“It’s not your fault”

Jeff broke down into his mother’s arms. He was bawling now, with no reservations about embarrassing himself. He wept into her shoulder, staining the fabric of her shirt with tears, blood, and snot.

When your mom left your side to go comfort the boy, all he could bring himself to say was “I’m sorry”. It fell from his lips over, and over, and over again as though they were the only words he knew.

She nodded, understanding his pain. She hugged him lightly, invited him to come back, whenever he wanted, told him once again that it wasn’t his fault, and returned to her daughter.

Monday, Jeff stayed home from school. He cried all day, refusing his mothers meals, refusing to get out of bed. He ignored his phone altogether. He didn’t want anything but to see you

On Tuesday, however, his mother insisted he go to school first, before seeing you. He nodded absentmindedly, getting into the passenger seat with no intention of retaining anything. He went through the motions that day, not so much as uttering a word. Not even to Clay, who waited at his side patiently. Not pressuring him to do or say anything.

When lunch came he didn’t bother to grab anything. He sat with the people he called his friends and barely smiled when Clay dropped off a milkshake in front of him.

“I picked it up on my way to school. I figured you would need it. Sorry,…it’s a bit warm now.” Clay empathized with the boy.

Jeff nodded graciously before pushing it away from him. Guilt wouldn’t describe what he felt he was going through. He might as well have killed you himself.

You told him you didn’t want him to go.
You pleaded with him to stay at the party with you.
He, was the one who talked you into coming with him.
He, was the one who kissed your neck until you said yes.
He, was the one who was playing with your seatbelt in an attempt to get you to lighten up.
He, was the one that drove straight into the intersection.
He, was the one that put you in a coma.

“Atkins, dude, relax. It’s not like you shot her.” A voice said.

When Jeff looked up at Bryce, he swore he was seeing red. He nearly leaped across the table to beat the shit out of the catcher of the baseball team.

He ignored the screams of the cheerleaders, the yells of his teammates and fellow athletes. He ignored the noise around him and focused on connecting his singular fist with Bryce’s face.

It was Montgomery who held him dragged him off of Bryce. Who basically, carried him kicking and screaming out of the cafeteria. Who shook his head at Mr.Porter as if to say ‘not now’.

“Jeez, Atkins you look like me out there” Monty offered as a joke. He laughed to himself, hoping to hear his teammates voice again.

He could tell Jeff was moments from crying and he had never seen his friend such a wreck…he didn’t want to. Jeff was the only person who checked on the victim of his latest brawl and then came to see how he was holding up. After scolding him of course. He was happy to return the favor in any way.

“Do you wanna get out of here?” Monty suggested.

Jeff nodded in response while he paced his breathing.

“Alright great. You wait here. I’m going to grab your stuff. We’ll go anywhere you want.”

When Monty left, Jeff checked his phone.

Your parents had texted him, letting him know you were up and asking about him, inviting him to visit. Letting him know they’d be back in an hour. Your mother hadn’t eaten in the two days and your father pulled her away to a lunch.

He crumbled underneath the weight of his own sadness. His letterman slid against the lockers in the hall as he collapsed.

He cried there in the hallway, his sobs echoing off of the posters on the walls. The thud of his backpack falling at his side couldn’t interrupt his outburst.

“No, no, c'mon big guy. You know I can’t handle feelings” his right hand fretted.

He pulled Jeff up, throwing the boy’s backpack over his shoulder, wrapping an arm around the boy’s waist avoiding his sling.

“Don’t worry Captain, I got you.” He confided.

Montgomery, surprisingly of all people, was his crutch. The two boys made their way out of school and into the parking lot. Into Monty’s car where Jeff politely asked to go see you. On route to the hospital, you laid in.

When Jeff sobered up. Wiping away his tears, he realized they were there. He looked over at his teammate, his friend, eternally grateful.

“Monty-” he started.

“Don’t, Atkins. You’re there for me…always. I’m just returning the favor.” Monty stressed.

“…Also, I can’t go in there with you Cap. Hospitals freak me out. I’ll wait though.” He confided.

Jeff smiled for the first time in three days. He smiled, a brief, but genuine smile as he got out the car.

He walked into the sickly, sterile building slowly, decisively. Turning into the sign in office he looked around, wondering what the hell he could say to you to even make a dent in an apology.

“Can I help you, sir?” The receptionist questioned.

Jeff snapped out of his thoughts, nodding quickly.

“Yes, can I- is Y/N Y/L/N, taking visitors?” He stumbled over even the simplest of questions.

“Yes, she is, just sign-in here. Then I’ll buzz you in.”

Jeff scribbled an illegible mess and pulled at the door eager to see you. He looked back at the nurse and she met him with a sympathetic gaze before pushing the buttons that opened it for him.

“Room 361C!” She called out after him.

Jeff felt his legs go weak underneath him. He wasn’t ready to face his biggest regret. Betraying him, his two feet carried to the elevator. One foot in front of the other. Straight to your door.

His hand held at the door handle for what felt like forever. Just like his feet, his hand betrayed him. He opened the door, pushing through his pain.

You smiled at him weakly from your bed.

“Took you long enough” you whispered to him.

Jeff looked a wreck if you were honest with yourself. Your normally playful, overconfident boyfriend had bags under his bloodshot eyes. He looked paler compared to his usually tanned skin and you could’ve guessed that like your mother he hadn’t eaten in days.

Tears fell, once again, from Jeff’s eyes when he took you in. Laying in your bed. Tubes linked everywhere on your body, the monitor of your heartbeat drumming in his ears as if to mock him.

“I’m- I-” Jeff croaked out.

“Jeff…” you pleaded with him.

“I’m so sorry…It’s all my fault”

Every sentence, every apology he poured out, dripped with guilt. Jeff was rambling now, and his voice faded in and out.

You used what strength you could to outstretch your hand to him.

“Come here”

Your eyes closed and opened again, fighting to focus in on your boyfriend.

“Listen to me. It was not. your. fault.” You enunciated for emphasis.

You kept going as Jeff’s mouth opened to continue.

“My mom said a stop sign was knocked down, we didn’t stand a chance”

“I shouldn’t have-”

“I wouldn’t have let you-”

“Stop it! Stop. Please.”

You paused. Letting him take a moment.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I can never forgive myself for what happened and I don’t expect you to but-”

He stopped. Glancing away from you.

“I promise once you’re out of here. If you’ll have me…I’ll never, ever leave your side.”

Your eyes shut involuntarily as he poured his heart out to you.

“Or- or- you’ll never see me again. If that’s what you want.” He offered in exchange, panicking you were turning him down.

You shook your head to the latter statement and mumbled “Stay with me” as you went under once again.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Jeff is nodding and yelling out for the nurse thinking he was going to lose you.

The doctors pushed him out as they tended to you. He waited there in that hallway until they were done. Waited with your parents when they returned.

He was there when you woke up again, when you went home, when you went back to school. True to his word he stuck to you like glue, not letting you so much as lift a finger.

And you held onto the baseball player just as hard. You forgave him every time he offered up an unnecessary apology. Wiped his tears when he cried at the sight of your bruises.

The two of you were inseparable. Just like before that night.

anonymous asked:

Can we please have the Obitos from all your different stories meeting? It would be soooo much fun.

Oh god. I was not prepared for this level of crack. 

So! Obito = crimanals ‘verse!Obito, Angry = reverse!Obito, Vagabond = Stormborn!Obito, Long-Hair = Stepping Stones!Obito, and Green Thumb = soulmate HashiObi drabble!Obito, bc why not. 

“What the actual fuck.”

“Language,” Kakashi says mildly, but he’s half a step behind and practically breathing down Obito’s neck, one hand on his Glock and both eyes narrowed.

“Fuck you,” Obito retorts. “We just got sucked into some kind of alternate fucking dimension, okay, I am fuckin entitled to whatever goddamn cursing I want. Now I’m late for meeting Rin at the FBI, and I don’t think she’s going to accept alternate dimensions as an excuse.”

“A crossover point, not a separate dimension,” a dark voice corrects, and Obito spins around to find himself staring at…


Well, that’s fucking awkward.

Granted, it’s not an outright copy. This version of him is dressed in a long black cloak with a high collar, decorated with red clouds, and has a purple-patterned white mask on his belt. His expression is tight with anger, and his two eyes are burning.

He looks a hell of a lot like the man Obito used to see in the mirror, and it’s no comfort at all.

Even less of a comfort is the big man looming just behind him, who is eerily familiar but also very much not, and before Obito can help himself he blurts, “Kisame?”

Kisame—with the addition of blue skin, a matching cloak, and a massive sword covered in scales—chuckles, apparently abashed at being recognized. “Hey,” he answers, grinning, and casts a look up and down Obito’s body. Coming from his Kisame, Obito would probably return the look with a knife, but this one doesn’t seem to have quite the edge of cheerfully menacing lechery he’s familiar with.

Before he can say anything, though, Kakashi takes a step to the side, then one in front of him, and warns in his politest voice, “If you keep looking at my husband like you want to eat him, I might take offense.”

Blue Kisame blinks, eyes widening, even as Angry Obito stops dead, eyes widening. “Husband?” he repeats incredulously, and black eyes flicker between Obito and Kakashi like he doesn’t know whether to be appalled or baffled.

“Maa, maa, there are other people here who could take offense at that as well, you know,” a mild—and familiar—voice says, and another Kakashi—this one in a dark blue outfit with a green flak jacket on top—steps out from behind one of the square pillars littering the space. Next to him is another version of Obito, this one with long hair in a braid and the same uniform as his companion.

He takes one look at Angry and blanches, falling back with a hand going to the short sword he’s carrying on his back, and snaps, “Akatsuki?! What the hell am I doing in Akatsuki?”

Uniformed Kakashi casts an assessing glance at Angry, then over at Obito (who feels rather like he should start calling himself Terrorist Obito just to keep things straight) and his Kakashi, and raises a brow. He only has one eye, the other covered by the slanted headband he’s wearing, but the book he pulls out of the pocket of his vest is all too familiar. “I think—” he starts.

“The better question would be what am I still doing in Akatsuki?” yet another Obito cuts in, this one dusty-looking and travel-worn. He also has a Kakashi double with him, this one wrapped in an equally dusty cloak, headband slanted down across his eye and Icha Icha also in hand. Vagabond eyes Angry with something that’s halfway between contempt and pity.

Long-Haired splutters. “No! No, I think the absolute best question is why am I in Akatsuki?”

“Because we’re clearly morons,” a fifth Obito says drolly, tucked back in the shadows of another column. It makes Obito twitch and turn sharply, but this one, in a dark green yukata, sporting a twist of ivy curled around his wrist and a rose twined in his hair, just gives him a faintly amused look and leans back into the hold of the man behind him. Very unfortunately, Obito recognizes him, even in a matching brown yukata instead of a neatly pressed suit. As the mayor.

God, what the hell happened for him to end up with Hashirama?

Apparently he isn’t the only one weirded out, because Angry, Vagabond, and Long-Hair are all gaping. Green Thumb just raises a brow at all of them, amused in a very familiar “I’m having fun watching your brains leak out your ears” way, and folds his arms over his chest. One of the sleeves of his yukata falls back enough to show a long string of zeroes inked into his forearm, and when Hashirama reaches around to touch his wrist gently, wise eyes flickering between the different groups, Obito can see there’s a matching tattoo on his skin. Weird.

“I take it you know where we are, then?” Hashirama asks Angry courteously, with a polite smile Obito’s seen him use when bullshitting Madara, who always fails to notice.

Thankfully for Obito’s own sanity, Angry doesn’t seem to fall for it. He scoffs, short and sharp, and takes a step back like he’s trying to get them all in his sights. “I can guess,” he growls, and Obito is detecting one or two anger management issues here. Maybe also a desperate need for therapy.

Kisame chuckles again, patting his massive scaled sword almost fondly, and says, “We were headed somewhere else. Guess we got sidetracked.”

Long-Hair is still eyeing them warily, but he straightens slowly, releasing his tantō, and tips his head in agreement. “We were on our way back from a mission and something went…sideways when I tried to use Kamui.”

Vagabond just narrows his eyes at them, and it’s Vagabond Kakashi who offers, without looking up from his Icha Icha, “Same, right, my cheerful little unicorn? We were on our way from Uzushio to Suna and ended up here.”

An entirely relatable expression of intent to murder flashes across Vagabond’s face, and he turns with a growl, slapping the book to the side, then throwing a blinding-quick punch at Vagabond Kakashi’s stomach. Vagabond Kakashi catches it with one hand, and uses his grip to twirl Vagabond around and pull him into a loose approximation of the hold Hashirama has on Green Thumb.

Obito is entirely unsurprised when Vagabond elbows Vagabond Kakashi in the gut, smacks him over the head, and pointedly steps three paces away.

“Would you look at that,” Kakashi murmurs in Obito’s ear, sounding far too amused for having just watched his double get beaten up. “It looks like some things are innate.”

Obito rolls his eye. “If you ever even think about calling me your cheerful little unicorn, I’m murdering you. Sasuke will help me.”

Kakashi makes a face. “Using your cousin against me isn’t playing fair, Obito.”

“You say that like any version of him would play fair,” Uniformed Kakashi says cheerfully, and casts a glance at Green Thumb and Hashirama. “I take it you were traveling too, then?”

Hashirama flushes faintly, ducking his head sheepishly as he rubs at the back of his neck, but Green Thumb just rolls his eyes. “Hardly. Madara walked in on us having sex last week and now he’s on a mission to never let us be alone together. We came here to fuck.”

Hashirama makes a noise like he’s dying and drops his head to bury his face in Green Thumb’s shoulder. “Obito,” he whines.

“I’m feeling out of place,” Kisame says cheerfully to Angry. “Just a little.”

“Don’t,” Angry tells him flatly, eyeing Green Thumb like he’s wondering if their double has lost his mind. “Clearly I’m the only one in this room with taste.”

“Excuse you,” Long-Hair says, deeply offended. “My sexual preference isn’t fish, so I think I’m doing just fine.”

“You’re with Bakashi,” Green Thumb and Angry retort in stereo, then glance at each other.

Obito snorts. “That’s fair,” he allows, and ignores the wounded noise Kakashi makes behind him. When Long-Hair looks like he’s going to protest, he meets his double’s eye and arches an eloquent brow.

Long-Hair deflates with a sigh. “Yeah, no, that is fair.”

“Maa,” Uniformed Kakashi objects, finally lowering his book. “Obito, I think you’re being very rude to your husband—”

There’s a very loud splutter, and Long-Hair rounds on Uniformed Kakashi, flailing. “WHAT. We’re not married! You’re not my husband!”

“Well, we’ll fix that as soon as we get back,” Uniformed Kakashi says cheerfully. “But as I was saying, rude—”

Obito turns to give his Kakashi a dark look, only for the man to raise his hands. “Clearly, Obito,” he says, tone trying for innocence, “I’m genetically predisposed to proposals like that—”

“You’re unbelievable is what you are.” Obito rolls his eye, and turns to look at Vagabond, who’s seeming like the only semi-normal one. Well, Green Thumb seems fairly mellow and well-adjusted, but Obito can’t look straight at him without thinking about Hashirama and sex and Madara walking in, and he’s had nightmares and been in war zones that were less traumatizing. “We weren’t going anywhere, and I have no idea what Kamui is. Any chance of getting back home before Rin decides to call in the army? Or worse, Kagami?”

Something raw and painful flickers in Vagabond’s expression, and Vagabond Kakashi lays a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. Vagabond casts him a faint smile before turning back, and says, “There was probably resonance, with so many versions of Kamui in one place, and you had just enough chakra that it pulled you in as well. I can get you back, though, don’t worry.”

Angry snorts quietly, turning on his heel. “Kisame, let’s go. I’ve had more than enough of the selfless hero types.”

Kisame chuckles, even as he turns to follow Angry into the darkness of their surroundings. “Kurama’s hard to top as far as hero types go,” he agrees, offering a careless wave before a vortex in the air swallows them.

“And we’re going home to talk about this!” Long-Hair hisses at Uniformed Kakashi.

Uniformed Kakashi looks nothing less than cheerful. “I have a ring, if that helps.”

“NO IT DOESN’T. If you have a ring, why ask me like that?”

Vagabond rolls his eyes and steps away, tipping his head to make Obito follow. “They’re probably going to be there for a while.” Half a glance at Green Thumb, like it’s hard for him to look at the way he’s wrapped up with Hashirama too, and he asks reluctantly, “You’re staying?”

Madara,” Green Thumb says, like that explains everything, and Obito supposes that it does. “Besides, Hashirama’s been working on building the village for weeks now, and I finally convinced him to take a day off. I’m not about to waste that.”

“It was nice to meet you,” Hashirama says whimsically, offering a brief wave and a smile. “It’s good to know that Obito has people who love him in other worlds, too.”

This is apparently what it takes to make Green Thumb flush, and he elbows Hashirama lightly, only to immediately be wrapped up in an encompassing hug as the big man laughs.

Vagabond and Obito trade looks that can be summed up as well at least they’re happy but it’s still fucking weird, and then Vagabond shakes his head and turns away. His eyes flicker to red and black pinwheels, spinning lazily, and he passes a hand through the air, making another vortex bloom.

“Through there,” he says, and then pauses. A glance at Uniformed Kakashi, and he smiles, just a little. “Good luck.”

He definitely means for more than the trip through the portal. Obito smiles back, tipping his head in agreement, and returns, “You too.”

“We’ll get there.” Vagabond curls his fingers into Uniformed Kakashi’s, and Uniformed Kakashi’s visible eye crinkles in a smile as he very clearly squeezes back.

The sap is choking, even after weeks of having to put up with Rin and Konan being sickeningly sweet girlfriends. Obito hides a grimace and ducks forward, reaching for his knives automatically, and feels Kakashi right behind him. The portal is a lurching wrench, but Obito twists in midair and lands on his feet, half-crouched and ready for anything.

Anything happens to be their living room, bullet holes still in the door, his cell phone on the table and vibrating angrily. Rin’s name is on the screen, and Obito winces.

Kakashi leans forward to pick it up, eyeing it like it’s a poisonous snake, and then glances at Obito. “Was that weird enough to earn us a day off, do you think?”

Obito casts a look back at the portal as it vanishes into nothingness, and feels his original sentiment still entirely applies.

“What the actual fuck.”

Whipped...boyfriend!!! Pt.2

If you haven’t, this follows “Whipped…friends??” which you can find here. And the first part to this you can read here.


Y/N had tried her best to fall asleep. Tried to ignore the noise that New York was. She’d hailed a cab from the restaurant to her hotel, bidding good bye to her cousin, thanking him for taking time out of his day to keep her company. 

She didn’t however excuse the sudden need to get out of the restaurant when Harry came into view. And her cousin didn’t ask questions, guys normally don’t.

But in the darkness of her room, she couldn’t keep out the thoughts of Harry taking over her mind. She tossed and turned, checked the clock to see it had only been seven minutes since she’d last checked it.

So when the soft knock on her door caused her to sit up abruptly, she thanked the heavens for the short break it allowed her mind to take from thoughts of Harry.

That is, until she heard his voice.

And if she was being honest, as unprepared as she was for this, she knew she had to talk to him. That is why she came to the city after all, wasn’t it?


Harry’s words were able to erase every doubt that Y/N had before last night. They laughed at how oblivious they both were; at the fact that obvious signs that they wanted more than to stay friends went over their heads.

They sat on the hotel room couch, talking about anything that happened during that short time they weren’t talking. 

Harry listened and watched Y/N talk about how she would still do lunches with Gemma. Even admitted that she would try to find a way to bring Harry into conversation just to see if he was doing okay.

Harry confessed that he knew, because Gemma told him, and Y/N could not have gone a darker shade of pink.

Harry recounted to her every moment he could remember of when the boys teased him, mimicking their voices the best he could to make her laugh.

“So then it was really me you lot were whispering about all those times?” Her giggle has Harry smiling like a child who’s just found out their crush likes them back.

And it’s not that she doesn’t believe him, it’s just nice hearing him say it.

“Wha’ ye’ laughing for?? Was a real pain in the ass. Wouldn’t leave me alone ‘bout it.”

She laughs even harder then.

“D'ye know how hard it was t'keep them from sayin’ anythin’ t'ye? Didn’t wan’ ye’ finding out over one of Louis distasteful jokes.”

“I’m surprised I didn’t actually.”

Harry chuckles at that, reminiscing on the countless times Louis’ comments nearly got him caught.

All in all, it was nice.

It was nice to have Harry back. To have him on the verge of tears at her lame jokes. 

“Knock, knock!” Y/N excitement grew because she had honestly just came up with this one.

“Who’s there?” Harry loves jokes. He loves telling them and having people laugh because they think his jokes are witty. He’ll even take people laughing at them because they’re plain idiotic. Harry also loves being told a joke, especially if it’s Y/N.

“Woo.” And she’s trying to contain herself. 

Harry and Y/N are similar in the way that when they’ve got a real funny joke to tell, or at least they think they do, they laugh for a ridiculous amount of time before they’re even able to tell it. Or they’ll start their joke, and as they rehearse it in their head, they’ll explode into laughter, eyes squinty and arms over their tummy because “s'a real good one okay! Jus’ wait.” This usually has others rolling their eyes at them because no one they know takes longer to tell a joke than they do.

“Woo who??”

“She’s an angel.” Harry thinks her excitement is priceless as she points at him with both index fingers. And he follows her lead for the sake of seeing her smile.

“Woo who! My only angel, woo who! She’s an angel, woo who! My my my my only angel!”

After that, she begged for an encore. Actually, she had him sing bits and pieces from songs she wanted to hear raw, unplugged with no instruments. Harry, of course, complied.

Now, waking up to each other isn’t much different now than it was a few weeks ago when they were nothing more than best friends. 

Back then, if Harry wanted to lightly peck at her shoulder for some sort of reassurance that yes, his Y/N was still with him, he would. He would do it first thing when he woke up, a sour taste in his mouth because he needs to wash his teeth. And she never minded, returned his affection with a smile, hooded eyes crinkling because sometimes it was still too early for her. 

Back then, if Harry wanted to cuddle her whilst they lounged about at a friends house, he would. Didn’t matter if he was having a conversation on the couch with someone else. The moment Y/N walked by in front of him, he would tug at her hand until she settled next to him, which never took much. She would roll her eyes at him, but smile none the less as he tucked a hand underneath her knees, moving them to rest on top of his thigh. He would then proceed with the conversation he’d been having, hand on Y/N’s calve.

It was normal for them, and their friends never asked questions anymore.

The only difference now, is that if Harry wanted to wake her up with a kiss to the lips, he can. 

And Y/N no longer feels the need to come up with some excuse when Harry suddenly wakes and catches her staring at him.

Instead, she smiles warmly, gripping at the heavily tattooed hand that rests on her waist. 

“Mmm, mornin’,” he manages, voice raspy enough that he coughs once to try and make his words sound clearer, “starin’ at my face were you?”

Y/N doesn’t try to hide it. She likes the way he’s looking at her, one eye peeking open, half a smile visible because half of his face is still pressed against the soft hotel mattress.

He stirs a bit, propping himself up on his forearm only to plop back down on his tummy, body closer to hers. 

Harry smiles wider at the touch of her fingers raking through his hair to get it away from his face, the pads of them grazing his scalp. 

Still the same. 

Harry’s arm lazily slung over her made her feel comfortable…safe. It’s not nearly as close as they’ve been before when they cuddle in bed, but something about his dopey smile and squinty eye has her feeling giddy. Because finally, she doesn’t have to hide the side of her she’s been wanting him to see. Affectionate in another sense, affectionate in a more free way. 

“S'that bad?” Y/N cuddles herself even closer, turning on her side and leveling her eyes to his. 

Harry says nothing. 

“Tell me again?”

And he doesn’t need to ask what she means by that. 

He simply moves to scoot closer again, lifts up his head to look at her better, and presses a kiss to her forehead.

“I love you.”


Y/N doesn’t remember how she got home. 

She can’t believe she let herself get so upset over Harry interacting with his friends that she got so pissed drunk to the point she can’t remember much from last night. 

It’s all a haze, and if she knew she would be sporting a killer hangover, she would have stopped on the second drink. 


She reaches for the water and bottle of pills laid on the night stand, clearly aware that it must’ve been him who placed them there for her. 

Two pills in one gulp.

Even though the window curtains are closed, she can make out the lining of light that manages to seep through the edges of the material. And she really can never thank him enough for always taking care of her, especially when she gets like this and her tolerance wears thin.

"Harry?” She whispers, and again, no answer.

She can see the outline of his body sat on the chair by the corner of the room, slumped over, hands running through his hair.

“Hey. Baby? You okay?" 

As much as she wanted to stay in place, tucked under the comfort of the duvet, she needs to see if he’s okay. So she turns on the nightstand lamp, wincing in the process, and lifts up the covers. She crawls to the foot of the bed, head tilting in a way to try and get a better look at him. 

"C'mere.” She pats the spot next to her. She would get up and go to him if she could, but she doesn’t trust her body enough to get her across the room with out falling at some point.

Harry doesn’t say anything still. But she notices the way his body shakes, and even he can’t completely silence the sobs escaping his lips. 

“Harry! Babe, no, no-” her frantic voice causes Harry to look up for a mere second, long enough for Y/N to make out the redness of his eyes, tears trailing down his cheeks.

He wipes at them hastily, bowing his head back down, trying to shut her out. 


How could Harry even think this girl looked anything remotely like his Y/N? 

His heart is racing still, mind going at a million miles an hour, but blank at the same time.

It’s shock that’s keeping him here. Sat on a bed foreign to him, next to a girl who’s seeming to be sleeping peacefully while his world falls apart. 

What the fuck is he to do?? 

He doesn’t think twice, he needs to talk to someone. He needs advice. 

But the minute he does it, the minute he opens his mouth and reaches out to someone..anyone..it’s out there. 

So if part of him wanted no one to find out, why has he phoned Louis? 

“Calm down, mate.” Harry doesn’t care much for the tone in Louis’ voice, he needs to talk to him.

“Look, Harry. I can’t understand what you’re sayin’ if you won’t call down!”

“Fuck, Louis!” He exasperates, “I fucked up. I fucked up and Y/N’s g'na hate me. I can’t lose her, Lou. Not her.”

Louis can recall a handful of times Harry’s gotten himself into serious trouble. He’s always been able to keep it on the low though. But for Harry to call him this distressed, stumbling over his words, and practically crying. That’s something else. He can’t recall the last time he’s heard him this shaken. 

“I don’ know who she is, Lou. I’ve got no fucking clue who this is.”

“Harry,” Louis really doesn’t wanna assume the worst, but he can’t think of anything else Harry would be frantically going on about that has to do with a chick, “what did you do?”

“I don’ know. I woke up in a bed tha’s not mine. Stripped down t'my briefs.”

“Shit! Harry!”

This is never a conversation either of them thought they’d ever be having.

“Did you use protection?" 

Shit. SHIT! That hadn’t even crossed his mind.

"I don’ know." 


Y/N can’t think of a single thing that might have Harry like this. She hops off the bed almost too fast, but catches herself before she can trip. 

"Love, why’re you crying?” She tugs at his hands to try and pry them away from his face, but he barely budges.

“Talk to me, H. Whatever it is we can get through it." 

The soft strokes of her hands on his thighs do little to nothing. How is he suppose to tell her?? How. What can he say? She’s going to hate him. But he can’t say he doesn’t deserve it. How could he have done that to her? 

"Harry, please, baby!" 

His heart breaks a bit more at the sound of her voice cracking, unable to contain herself.

He wants to tell her he loves her. He loves her so much that he can’t imagine Harry with out Y/N. Wants to tell her Harry doesn’t exist with out Y/N. But where does he start. 

The silence is eating at Y/N. It’s beginning to feel like there’s not enough air in the room. She continues to beg Harry to tell her what’s wrong. 

"You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want, H.” But she wishes he would. “Just tell me you’re okay,” still, the strokes of comfort from Y/N’s thumb on his waist fail at calming the uneasiness. 

A million things are going through her mind. But the only one she’s stuck on is literally squeezing at her heart.

What did she do?? Is this the end of them?


EXO’s Reaction to Their GF Having Hiccups


It was silent as the two of you hung out and read, however Xiumin’s eyebrows immediately shot up when he heard the sound of you hiccuping from across the room. He’d chuckle, finding it adorable, but wouldn’t say anything, continuing to read as if nothing was happening.


As soon as your body shook with your first hiccup you’d hear a snort from Chen. “Did you just hiccup?” he’d laugh, removing his eyes from his phone screen to look at you. You’d nod, slightly embarrassed, and he’d just grin. “Adorable,” he’d state, before returning his attention to KakaoTalk.


At first Baekhyun would ignore the small noises forcing their way out of your body. However, after ten minutes had passed, he’d pause the movie you two were watching to look over at you, an amused expression on his face. “Are you done?” he’d chuckle, shaking his head slightly at how cute you were.


Chanyeol was sitting by your side, scrolling through Instagram while you read your book. He’d shoot up when you hiccuped, startled by the sudden noise. He’d eye his surroundings suspiciously, not realizing it was you until it happened again. He wouldn’t be able to stop laughing in embarrassment at his own reaction.


Instead of sitting idly by while you hiccuped, Lay would immediately try to find a solution. “Jagi! If you eat a spoonful of sugar, they’ll stop!” he’d say excitedly, spoon-feeding you a lump of sugar so big you would almost gag. Your hiccups would end up stopping, and Lay wouldn’t be able to stop smiling in pride at himself.


D.O was busy in the kitchen and you were watching him, enjoying his fast-paced movements as he prepared lunch, when your hiccup-attack hit. He’d stop, concerned that his food had made the noise. He’d chuckle when he realized it was you, smiling shyly at how cute you were.


You and Suho were cuddling, completely wrapped in each other’s arms, when all the sudden a monstrous hiccup broke through the silence. Suho wouldn’t be able to hold back his laughter at the comedic timing. “Jagiya~ Are you okay? That sounded like it hurt,” he’d tease you before kissing your cheek.


Confusion, mostly. Initially Kai would have no idea where the sound was coming from, setting down his book to stand up and look out the window, thinking it was a dog outside. It wasn’t until you told him it was your hiccups that he’d smile sheepishly, returning to his book and acting like that hadn’t happened.


Sehun would just ignore it at first, continuing to watch the kdrama diligently. However, after a particularly loud one he’d crack, pausing the drama and laughing. “Jagi! I’m trying to watch this!” he’d snort, leaning forward slightly as he continued to giggle at the noises coming out of your body.

Rhaegar x Stark!Reader...

Word Count: 1,864

Warning: None

((I hope you like it anon!))

You knew the moment the crowned prince offered you the crown and gave you the title as “Queen of Love and Beauty” over his wife that this wasn’t just a harmless action. The way his purple indigo eyes watched you as you took the crown from the tip of his lance and placed it on your head…it scared you. The way he watched you even as everyone in attendance remained seated, all watching with eyes wide and full of shock, confusion, and a few of outrage. This wasn’t something you and your twin sister, Lyanna, would be gushing about later in your tent.

At least it wasn’t Lyanna. You couldn’t help but think as your brothers, Brandon and Ned, pulled you from the stands and back toward where the tents of the North had been set up among those of the Stormlands and the Vale.

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Bright Ideas

Characters: Jim Kirk x Bones x Reader

Warnings: oh my god.  so many.  threesome, unprotected sex, oral sex, fingering, general filth..dirty talk, slight come play? it’s just pwp

A/N: it’s just filth.  god i hate y’all.  Also it’s super unedited.  sorry.  i’ll fix anything tomorrow

words: 2619

tags: @medicatemedrmccoy @imoutofmyvulcanmind @yourtropegirl @ravengirl94 @feelmyroarrrr @outside-the-government @jimtkirkisabitch @hellhoundsandunicorns @daybreak96

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I’m Yours

Request: hayes imagine where you two are getting ready for an awards show and you have your hair and makeup people helping and you and hayes and the guys are all just hanging out while getting ready and hayes can’t believe how georgous you look and the guys are all shocked so hayes like keeps touching and hugging and kissing you to make everyone know your his. thanks girlie!! love ur blog❤


could you do a hayes grier imagine where him & y/n are dating and they hang out at his house with all the guys?

a/n; I combined the two requests since they kinda go together, and one was kind of vague as to what happens so

Word Count: 810

Pairing: Hayes Grier X Reader

Y/N’s P.O.V

I rolled my eyes as the guys somehow ended up in the kitchen where I was getting ready, I couldn’t turn to face them since I was having my hair curled. The blinds all pulled up to let lots of light in, “what are you guys doing?” I asked, looking as far back towards them as I could, “waiting.” I heard spread out across the room, I sighed, looking back in front of me, the makeup artist just got here so she’s setting up. 

“What kind of look are we going for?” She asked, ignoring the noise from everyone else, “modern, but not crazy.” I answered, I pulled up a picture of my dress for tonight, so she would know what type of colors to use. Hayes appeared in front of us making me smile, “hi babe.” I grabbed his hand as it rested on the counter next to me, “hey, baby.” He smiled at me, glancing back over at the guys who weren’t really paying any attention. 

“You look nice.” I told him, looking him over, he was almost wearing a suit, he was just missing the tie basically, but it looked nice, mature and polished. “Thank you.” He laughed, letting go of my hand as one of the guys called him over. “He’s sweet.” My hairstylist said, tugging gently on a piece of hair, pulling it into an updo, I closed my eyes as the eye shadow brush started coming towards my face. “And so it begins.” I mumbled, hearing the boys get even more rowdy, without a doubt getting documented on Snapchat by Johnson. 

“And here we have Y/N, getting pulled around by her hair.” I heard Johnson, as my head got pulled to the side by my hair, I laughed, “vlog or Snapchat?” I asked, not opening my eyes, since I couldn’t. “Vlog.” He answered, I nodded subtly, not wanting to mess up anything. 

“I just have to get dressed.” I assured Hayes as I walked past him, he grabbed my hand, making me turn towards him. He planted a kiss on my lips before letting me go, normally Madison and I helped each other get into our more elaborate dresses, but she’s out of town right now, so I’m on my own. 

I resisted the urge to bite my lip as I struggled to reach the zipper on my dress, “why couldn’t it be on the side?” I mumbled to myself, sticking my head out into the hall. “Hayes!” I shouted down the stairs, “someones in trouble.” I heard faintly followed by his footsteps thumping up the stairs. Hayes raised his eyebrows at me as I came into his view. “I can’t get the zipper.” I explained turning my back towards him. 

I watched in the mirror in front of me as the dress got pulled together, hugging me just right. It was a simple black dress, snug at the top but slightly looser once it got past my hips, spaghetti straps on top to help hold the v-neck up, cut outs on my waist. But it still had an element of class, it showed skin, but not in an obnoxious way. 

“Well, damn.” Hayes met my eyes in the mirror, I turned in his light grasp of my waist, his hands on the skin showing in the cut outs, “ready?” I asked, reaching to grab his hand. He nodded, asking me if I had everything I needed before we started our descent downstairs. My heels clicked on the wood stairs, slowly but surely everyone started shutting their mouths as I came into view. I felt a blush rise to my cheeks by all the attention, they normally don’t see me this way, it’s normally a “she’s Hayes’ girlfriend and she’s younger than us” way, but now I don’t look like I’m as young as I am. The dress in combination with the hair and makeup ages me, in a good way. 

I cleared my throat, realizing we were all kind of just standing there, I felt Hayes’ hand rest on the small of my back, slightly lower than where it normally is. I glanced at him, but didn’t say anything, I’ll let him have his little moment. 

“Ready?” I asked everyone as we stepped off of the last step, Hayes’ hand still on my back. “Uh, yeah.” The only two who had really stopped looking at me early on were Nash and Gilinsky, since they have girlfriends. “Let’s go then.” I mumbled, walking away from them, feeling Hayes wrap his arm around me some more. A quick kiss left on my temple. “I’m yours, Hayes, you don’t have to keep showing them.” I mumbled, looking up at him as everyone followed behind us. 

“I know but you just look so good.” He whispered in my ear, his eyes shooting a warning glance behind us. 

BTS Reaction To: You Wear Just Their T-Shirt And Panties Around Them (M)

seokjin: The loud snores sounding from your mouth were a complete contrast to your seductive nap-wear. Such a contrast that Jin found himself ignoring these deafening noises, biting his lips at what was displayed in front of him.

In a state of weariness, you took no effort in wrapping yourself in your favorite blanket. Lying on your side, you were only clothed in one of Jin’s pink V-neck tees and Victoria’s Secret panties. Such an outfit accentuated your impressive cleavage and toned legs, some of Jin’s secret, favorite parts of your body.

And this was when and where Jin decided that swallowing down his feelings for you was too much to bear. So, he rushed over to you, urging you to wake up from this unnecessary catnap.

“Y/N. Hey. Wake up.” He shook your frame roughly, causing you to jerk awake. “We need to talk.”

You groaned, not liking your nap interrupted ten minutes in.


Your voice dripped with malice, but Jin chose to ignore it.

“Fuck, I can’t take this anymore, Y/N.”

You rubbed the sleep from your eyes, the only response to his serious tone from you an obnoxious yawn and a bewildered expression.

“Jin, can this not wait until later? What are you talking-”

He cut you off as he pulled your hand to him in record speed, wrapping it around the erection constrained in his worn blue jeans.


Now, you were awake.

You looked up at him, lust beginning to gloss over the confusion and annoyance prevalent in your eyes. What was he doing? And why weren’t you stopping him?

“After all these years, how can you not know what you do to me?”

Originally posted by bangtanroyalty

yoongi: On his limited time off, it was always your mission to spend as much time with your best friend Yoongi as possible. Even if it was curled away in your or his bed, doing nothing but catching up on some needed rest.

You didn’t move from your lying position even as you heard the bedroom door open and close, signaling your best friend’s arrival.

“I’m here,” Yoongi announced, taking off his jacket. “So, what do you have planned for me today?”

You lifted your arms, gesturing him over.

“Yoongi,” you called in a songlike voice. “Just nap with me; we can order takeout if you’re hungry later.”

He snorted at your request.

“Shit, you don’t have to tell me twice.”

Yoongi, in an unusual bout of cheerfulness, ran over and jumped on the bed, knocking the sheets and blankets from your body. You whined at your sudden loss of warmth, and he let out an out-of-character gasp at what you were hiding underneath this cocoon of fabric.

No wonder you were cold; all you had on was one of his black t-shirts (without a bra, most likely), and simple pink underwear, topped off with a fancy black bow. You were practically wrapping up all your goods for him in the form of some special present. And of course, you were oblivious to how provocative this outfit of yours seemed.

He could feel his pants tightening even more as each second passed by.

“Yoongi,” you sulked and reached for the blanket, “Now, I’m cold.”

“I can think of another way of warming the both of us up,” Yoongi stated matter-of-factly, looking into your eyes with an unfamiliar emotion.

”What could work better than a blanket-”

With his hands latched around your wrists, he pulled you forward and onto his laps, allowing to feel his, rather impressive if you must say, erection. And that’s when you recognized the emotion in his eyes: lust.

“What do you say?”

You nodded weakly.

Originally posted by sugakookie

hoseok: “Another bad date?” Hoseok asked, stepping into the bedroom.

“I really don’t wanna talk about it; I just need cuddles right now,” you whimpered, pulling your blanket closer to you. “I’m never dating again.”

“Aw, it’s okay,” Hoseok reassured you, taking a few strides before positioning himself beside your bed. “I came with plenty of cuddles to cheer you back up again.”

Within a few seconds, Hoseok was pulling back the covers and climbing into bed beside you. But of course, he didn’t do this without inspecting your rather risqué outfit for this cuddling session. You were wearing one of his dance-practice tees that he had been searching months for, using a pair of blue boy shorts to barely conceal the rest of your body. And damn, you looked way better than he ever did in this shirt.

His voice, drowned in lust, sounded lower as he beckoned you over, pulling your tear-stained face into your chest. You sighed, wrapped with support from your best friends.

Years of suppressing his feelings, years of supporting you through your abusive relationships, years of nursing you after inevitable breakups: he had self-control through all these adversities, but not tonight. Tonight, he found his hands wandering lower than your waist, coming to grab your curvy ass. You let out a surprised gasp.

“H-Hobi? What are you doing?”

Kneading the supple flesh in his hands, he craned his head down to whisper in your ear.

“Maybe what you’ve been looking for in a relationship has been at your side all this time.”

Originally posted by gotjhope

namjoon: “Hey, you didn’t burn it this time,” you noted, as your best friend Namjoon walked into your apartment bedroom with an extra burst of confidence  in his movements, obviously proud that he was able to cook (perhaps microwave) something without it covered in hundreds of salmonella bacteria or bursting into flames. “Did you grab the movie yet?”

“Um, no, it’s right beside you on the nightstand,” Namjoon answered slowly, genuinely confused.

“Oh! Well, I guess I actually have to move then,” you whined, pulling the sheets back and reaching over to your left. As the sheets retracted, your lazy-day outfit, one Namjoon’s muscle tees and bikini panties, made its debut to Namjoon’s wandering eyes.

He cursed under his breath, almost dropping the bowl of meticulously-made popcorn held firmly in his hands. Why did his pants suddenly become two sizes too small?

Oblivious to his gaze, practically undressing you in that perverted mind of his, you popped open the plastic casing and placed the CD in your hand.

“Are you ready?” you asked, turning to him. “Joonie?”

Your eyes only met a man who was obviously under some sort of distress, giving you that frustrating look that you only swooned over behind closed doors. He was obviously deep in thought, conflicting between maintaining a healthy friendship or listening to his urges and pouncing on you right then and there.

Damn, the sexual tension in the room could cut through walls.

Looks like that movie will have to wait for another day.

Originally posted by rapnamu

jimin: Jimin knew it was going to be a difficult day when he found you on your belly in your queen-sized bed, your bikini bottoms doing almost nothing to keep your backside from his prying eyes.

Jimin knew it was going to be a long day when you turned around to greet him, giving the idol a front-row view of his designer shirt enveloping your frame.

Jimin knew it was going to be an impossible day when you demanded for him to spoon you in your large, comfy bed, allowing your ass to press up not-so-modestly against his growing boner.

Why did he have friends? Jimin asked himself this question as you showed him photos on your iPhone, rubbing up your butt against him in excitement whenever a particular photo sparked your interest the most.

“If you keep doing this, I don’t think we can be friends anymore,” Jimin announced. His Busan accent was almost tangible to your ears, which meant he was completely earnest.

You let out a gasp at his words.

How could he-

After six years-

Was he serious?

Your mouth opened wide to voice your complaints, but it was interrupted by Jimin, grinding against your voluptuous bottom with those sinful hips of his. A spontaneous moan fell from your mouth, and Jimin brought your sensitive earlobe between his teeth, tugging on the flesh just enough to get your head swimming.

Oh, shit, you thought.

Originally posted by jiminrolls

taehyung: “You left your shirt at my house, but I just washed it and kinda forgot about it,” you explained, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “You can have it back, if you want… Taehyung?”

Poor boy, he was so far gone, in such a deep trance, that he couldn’t stop himself from grasping your full breasts and squeezing them slightly, as if trying to see if his childhood friend had actually finished puberty.

“Hey!” You shouted, ignoring the bewildering tingles of pleasure in your body that came with his touches to your breasts. ”Whe-where are you touching?”

Thank God I left this shirt at your house, Taehyung thought, biting his lips at the way your tits moved and molded into his hands with each caress he gave you. I need to have these wrapped around me soon or I’m going to lose it…


I can already imagine it, asking me in that occasionally submissive voice of yours, “Am I doing it right?” Jesus Christ, I’d probably cum from hearing that just alone-

Kim Taehyung!

But fuck, I’d only be able to throw my head back, drop my jaw, and let out shameless groans, because having those breasts of yours trapping my erection has to feel heavenly. God, but probably not as nice and warm as burying my dick in your tight little-

And his thoughts ended as he felt a sharp, stinging pang across his cheek.

Originally posted by cmtae

jungshook jungkook: Your voice finally floated from the bathroom, signaling Jungkook that you were ready.

“Okay, I’ve been waiting all day to beat your sorry ass in some video games,” you teased, fixing your hair into a messy ponytail.

Jungkook’s attention moved from the television to you, and he rolled his eyes at your arrogant attitude.

“Aight, keep telling yourself-”

In front of him, his best friend of over five years was standing in one of his rare non-white shirts and a pair of girly boy shorts, which he had to say complimented your ass more than just a little. The plain t-shirt did nothing to spare his torture, either; it was one of his hand-me-downs before he started working out regularly, so it was much smaller, constricting around your full breasts.

Jungkook, very obviously, pulled a pillow from beside him and placed it on his lap, in an attempt to mask his growing arousal.

“Oh man, holy sheet-”

Originally posted by baekon-stripss


Part 1
Part 2
Part 3

Request: Can I request a civil war!Bucky oneshot where Reader comes home to Bucky (in his little apartment) to find him and Steve staring at eachother and like Steve points a gun and asks who’s she and then Bucky gets all protective and they both escape the black panther together and fluff (sorry for long request 😂) love your writing!❤️

A/N: Are there any classes for naming your work because I feel like I need some… Anyways, this is basically just the chasing scene from Civil War only it’s described by me. Of course I left some parts out and also there are some parts with the reader that I’ve changed to fit the story but… yeah. I literally watched the scene while writing this, pausing it every few seconds to be as accurate as possible. I realize I could have just come up with something myself but… gotta stay true to Marvel. I don’t know if that bothers some of you but I’m sorry if it does.
It’s messy, probably not easy to understand but if you’ve seen Civil War (which I’m sure you have at this point) you might know what I’m talking about. It’s not very fluffy, sorry about that. It’s hard to mix action and fluff. Hope you’ll like it either way!
ALSO, I keep referring to T'Challa as the ‘guy with the cat suit’ or armor or whatever bc the reader nor Bucky knows who it is and i mean, he wears a scary cat suit okay idk

Words: 3,345

Warning(s): well… fighting, gunfire… that’s it??

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