im sorry i wanted to make one so bad

Moans

Request: Hey ! Im sorry this one is too smutty but… Okay, can you please make an imagine where, the reader and Shawn fall asleep and in the morning or middle of the night idk, he heard some moans and realise the reader is grinding on him while sleeping and he watch her and don’t want to wake her up yet ( cuz he is turned on ) and like after that you can do what you want 😂 OMGG I FEEL SO BAD I FEEL LIKE A PERVERT NO 😭 But yeah like.. if you could please do one 😂 I love all your imagines ! 💋 thanks !

Word count: 1,501

A/N: I tried, but this was hard. 

Moans (Kind of a smut)

“Hey baby” I whispered, as I silently walked into the bedroom.

“Are you awake?” I wasn’t quite sure if she was sleeping or not.

“Mmh” She grunted at my voice.

Keep reading

You Drive Me Crazy (Star Lord Reader Insert)

Anon Request: May I please request a star lord one shot where you and Peter really hate each other and you always disobey his orders and you’re both constantly fight but there’s lots of sexual tension and one day you and him get trapped in the ship and you’re yelling at him and he’s had enough and smutty smut where we get dominant star lord? Thank you you soooo much oh and btw I ADORE YOUR WRITING💕/hiiii, so idek how to say this but i really want a ‘bad girl’ and spanking/daddy kink going on with our sexy star-dork, i meant, star-lord. let’s make it very rough and animalistic. oh god i need help im sorry im awkward. thank you so much and im a fan of your work :)

Warnings: smut, language, orgasm denial, daddy!kink, spanking, overall roughness

Words: 2836

i’m so sorry i haven’t posted in like 10 years but here ya go! enjoy!

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The loud slam of your door echoed through the ship. God, you needed to either punch something or scream. He was so goddamn infuriating and you were reaching your breaking point. Peter was always on your ass about something and he was especially pissy today just because you didn’t listen to him on the mission.

Essentially, your plan was much better than his. But because he was the great Star Lord and everything had to go his way or else he’d throw a bitch fit, you went with his idea. Basically, you were sent out to stop some group of galactic douchebags who were on a rampage planet over planet, stealing and murdering innocent people. Their leader was an easy target, for he was obnoxious and gaudy whenever he made his appearance.

“Stay behind and wait for the signal,” Peter ordered. You rolled your eyes, but cooperated and got into place with him behind the grimy dumpster. However, the leader came stumbling out of the bar he was currently pillaging. He was obviously inebriated, judging by his slightly greened, yellow skin and the sloppy smile painted across his face. And, there were also only three of his bodyguards with him. There couldn’t have been a more golden opportunity.

Moving to charge at them, Peter stopped you by grabbing your ankle. He was still crouched on the ground and he shot you warning look that let you know if you did this, you’d be in trouble later. Deep down, you relished in pissing him off, so you silently blew him a kiss and slipped out from behind your hiding place.

It was almost too easy enough taking them down. A few good punches and a swift kick to the groin later, they were all whining on the ground like newborns babies. Even though you’d earned yourself a nice bruise to the cheek, you grinned valiantly in Peter’s direction. However, the loud bang of the bar door being kicked open made you jump and, once the rest of the group saw their leader was on unconscious on the ground with you standing over him, and all out warfare began. You were lucky enough to dodge the first few blasts of gunfire and run back behind the dumpster as the Guardians shot back.

Once the firing had stopped and bodies lied splayed across the ground, you sighed and ran your fingers through your hair calmingly. Your wrist was gripped tightly by none other that Quill, who pulled you up harshly from your stooped position into a standing one.

“What the hell happened to the plan?” he gritted. You tried pulling your hand away but he was stronger, especially when he was angry.

“I improvised,” you replied coolly. This time, you were successful in ripping your arm back and you turned on your heel before walking away. Usually, this was his cue to shut up and drop it. But, when you heard his heavy footsteps behind you and felt his taut grip on your upper arm, it seemed as though this was far from over.

“Don’t walk away from me!” he yelled, stopping you in place. Your eyes widened slightly at the volume of his voice, for he was never one to really yell, but you quickly recouped yourself. “I am sick and tired of you not listening to me! You’re gonna get yourself killed if you keep pulling stupid shit like this!”

To be fair, he was right. You didn’t listen to him or anyone for that matter. Taking orders from someone else was something you rarely did and, because of that fact, there were always problems between Peter and yourself. He wanted to control you, you didn’t want to be controlled.

“Back off, Star Bitch,” you fought back, using that name you knew he loathed. “I took him down just like I was supposed to. What more do you want from me?”

“I want you to stop acting like a bratty little kid and take orders properly!” He stepped closer to you in an attempt to be intimidating. You moved even closer, unafraid while almost completely closing the space between you two.

“I don’t need to take orders from anyone, especially you!”

Peter’s glare was hard, eyes narrowed and ablaze. You weren’t scared of him whatsoever and definitely weren’t going to be talked down to like you were born yesterday. The bickering and fighting continued all the way back to the ship and was only interrupted when the talking tree said his only line.

“I am Groot.”

“Haha, I was thinking the same thing,” Rocket laughed. Simultaneously, you and Peter both directed your daggering glances from each other to the small raccoon. He held his paws up in defense and shook his head, still chuckling obnoxiously. “Hey, don’t look at me. I didn’t say it.”

“Then what did he say?” you demanded.

“That you two should just do it already.” Unintentionally, your jaw dropped at the insane thought. You, luckily, were able to fight down the heat that threatened to crawl up your cheeks and come up with something to say back so you didn’t look as dumbfounded as you felt.

“Sorry, but huge asshole isn’t my type.”

“Well, aggravating bitch isn’t mine,” Peter retorted. You huffed and rolled your eyes, storming back to your bunk. This was always happening, but it’d never gone this far. Anger boiled deep within you and your mind wandered around murder and how to get away with it.  There suddenly was a loud pounding at your door and you groaned loudly as you were forced to get up. After maliciously flinging the door open the door, it was none other than Quill again.

“And by the way- whoa!” He was cut off short by his body being forced in a collision with yours. Losing your balance, the both of you fell to the ground in a heap with the weight of his body almost crushing you completely. You caught a glimpse of Drax before the the door slammed shut, meaning he was the one who pushed him, and a heavy click followed. Shoving Peter off, you got up and went to open the door. When you pressed the button, and an ear piercing hiss was heard. Judging by the sound, someone must’ve rewired your door to lock from the outside and you resorted to pounding your hands against it.

“Let us out!” you called, still thumping your palms against the exit.

“Oh no, neither of you are getting out of there until you make up… or make out,” Rocket announced through the door. You faintly heard him snicker to himself before he continued. “Seriously though, you guys are giving us all a headache.”

“If you don’t let us out of here, I swear I’m going to skin you alive,” you threatened, desperate to leave this confined space. Especially when Peter was in there with you.

“We’ll be back later and if you have to go, try holding it in. Have fun!”

“Rocket!” you screamed. Giving up, you turned around and leaned back against the door, sliding down into a slump on the floor.

You went for God knows how long without talking. How long had it been? Minutes? Hours? The concept of time seemed to disappear more and more as the tension grew the same. Finally, he spoke.

“This is all your fault,” Peter muttered to himself, now lounging like a fat cat on top of your bed. How dare he?

“You got something to say, Star Bitch?” you sassed, getting up from your seated position. You strutted over to the bed where he lied lazily with his hands folded behind his head and you put your own hands on your hips. At the mention of the nickname he hated, Quill glared up at you and sat up.

“Yeah, (Y/N), I do. This is all your fault,” he repeated while standing up so he could tower over you.

“Please elaborate for me.”

“Well maybe, just maybe, if you listened to me for once in your goddamn life,” he explained condescendingly whilst taking steps forward, urging you to step back, “none of this would’ve happened.”

“Well maybe, just maybe, you can kiss my ass.” And with that, you pushed past him and went to sit on your bed, arms folded under your chest. However, he quickly pulled you up from your seated position and slammed you against the wall, holding your wrists down so you couldn’t move. His movements were fast and, on impact, almost knocked the wind out of your lungs. “Get your hands of me you piece of-”

You were cut off short by his lips pressed in a bruising kiss against yours. It was astonishing, for it was the last thing you expected. A war raged within your mind, battling between whether to still be angry or not. It was very confusing. You welcomed yelling and screaming, maybe even some hitting, but this newfound intimacy was shocking. And judging by the growing warmth in the pit of your stomach, you weren’t completely dissatisfied with it. An unintentional moan escaped your throat as your eyes fluttered closed and you finally joining in the kiss.

Your wrists were still pinned against the wall so you unable to touch him and his grip tightened even more as he moved to nip sensually at your neck. Gasping as his teeth sunk into your delicate flesh, he sucked a mark then move to whisper against your ear.

“You need to learn how to listen and not be so defiant,” he muttered, his voice an octave lower than usual, “and, obviously, I’m gonna be the one to have to teach you.”

Even though his tone was an enormous turn on, his words themselves were not. Something in the back of your mind still didn’t sit well with obeying him, but you played along with his little game anyways.

“Now,” he began as he released your hands to grab your ass instead, “what was it you were about to call me?” You hesitated, debating on whether or not to actually tell him you were going to call him a piece of shit. But he was impatient and demanded your answer by pressing his thigh against your pant-clad, yet heated, core. You threw your head back against the wall and began melting slowly. “Answer me.”

“Daddy,” you moaned, not actually meaning to call him that. As soon as it slipped out, you immediately felt embarrassed and awaited a snarky remark about your secret kink.

“That’s more like it,” he hummed. This whole experience was just surprise after surprise and, to be honest, you didn’t want it to stop. “Anything I say, you do and you ask for permission otherwise. Understand?”

“Yeah.”

Yeah?

“Yes,” you corrected yourself. “Yes, Daddy.”

“Go over to the bed.”

You wanted to put up a fight, you wanted to give him a hard time but your legs were already shuffling towards his desired spot. He strutted up behind you and moved your hair to one side to leave rough kiss on the nape of your neck. His lips smirked against your skin when you moaned and Quill forced you onto the bed on your hands and knees. You kept your face forward and suddenly felt your pants being tugged past your hips, consequently exposing your butt to the mild air of the vessel. His fingers traced the curve of your bottom and you shivered with delight, feeling yourself getting wetter with anticipation.

“Count them,” he ordered. Before you could question what he meant, a hard slap made contact with your skin. It stung badly but he soothed it over with the palm of his hand.

“One,” you said, breathing uneven. Smack after smack after smack, your cheeks turning bright red under his hard touch. You were at 13 now and you could barely take anymore. Peter could tell by your heavy pants that you were though and flipped you over so that your back was pressed against the soft mattress.

Peter took his jacket off and threw it across the room a little too dramatically. It fell into the corner with a loud thud and you would’ve laughed at his over-intense attitude had your clothes not been practically being ripped off.

Your top was ripped over your head, your bra snapped open, your pants pulled off your legs, leaving you only in your panties. In the heat of the moment, you forgot the rules and tried pulling at his soft cotton shirt. Quill stopped, smacking your hands away and grabbing your jaw to make your look at him. His eyes were cold and serious and you felt anxious as you lie naked underneath him.

“What did I say?” he asked harshly.

“Anything you say, I do and I ask for permission otherwise,” you repeated his words from before meekly.

“Good girl. And did you ask permission to take off my clothes?”

“Peter, c’mon, I-”

“Excuse me?”

“Daddy, please. I want you,” you begged. Your body was hot and on fire, for all you wanted was him. It was taking too long and patience wasn’t one of your virtues. He began trailing kisses down your body and you shivered under each one. His teeth grazed over your hip bone as his finger hooked under the waistband of your underwear. Then, he pried you thighs open, holding your legs tightly in place and exposing your wetness.

Peter nipped and sucked at the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, the scruff of his beard slightly tickling you.

“Daddy,” you pleaded again, desperate for something. He chuckled a little to himself before ghosting his tongue all the way up your pussy, getting a full taste. You gasped at the terrific sensation, which egged him on. He sucked on your clit, licked patterns around and dipped his tongue inside you. My God, he was good at this. It seemed as though he was everywhere at once, a climax slowly consuming you. Your lower stomach burned with need and you called out his name, so close to it. Then he pulled away completely. You looked down to see his that stupid smirk he always wore. He crawled up to kiss you, tasting yourself on his lips.

“It’s about time I make you as frustrated as you make me. You don’t come until I say so.”

“God, Peter, I swear- oh!” He curled his fingers inside you, stroking your g-spot with each pump. Just like before, you were at the edge only to be left there without release when he pulled away again. It took everything in you not to just finish yourself off, but you waited as best you could as you watched him remove his garments. You reveled in his incredible physique, his line of work keeping him in amazing shape.

Then he pounced on you, completely nude with a striking erection. His muscles were robust, his body hard against yours. He smelled of his masculine cologne and intoxicating musk that you could get used to. You waited for it, the sweetness you’d feel when he was finally giving it to you, but it never came. Instead, he littered your neck with kisses and bites which, while it was enjoyable, you wanted to cherry on top.

“Daddy, I want you to fuck me, please,” you whined. He grinned against you skin then moved to nibble on your ear.

“Are you gonna listen to me from now on? Be a good girl for me?” he bargained. When the words ‘good girl’ fell from his lips, your hunger only grew more insatiable. You’d never nodded harder in your life and as soon as you agreed, because you knew he wanted it too, he thrust into you. A loud moan was heard on your part and you were thankful everyone was gone or else they would’ve surely heard it.

His cock was thick and filled you perfectly. Peter started off slow, then picked up and an incredible pace. You were already so close, but you held out the best you could. His skin was dewy and you wanted to lick every inch of it.

“Daddy, please can I?” you breathed needily.

“Go ahead, babygirl.” In a matter of second, with the help of that little pet name, you were shouting his name to the rooftops as you finally got what you wanted. Heat flashes and stars consumed you as you exhaled, feeling all the tension wash away. Quill came too, a heavy grunt and a ‘fuck’ enacted from him.

He rolled down next to you, both of you sweaty and sticky but satisfied completely. About 2 minutes later, the same loud click from before was heard and you had just enough time to cover your exposed body before Rocket strolled in with a grossed out look on his face.

“So, I see you two… made up,” he hesitated. You couldn’t help laughing a little and Peter joined in. Rocket groaned and turned to leave. “You humans are so disgusting, I swear…”

au for @everythingelsegoesherethen: dean winchester owns the marauders’ map and uses it to make sure he and castiel always ‘accidentally’ meet at strange times.

Since he became a Prefect at the beginning of his fifth year, Castiel Novak has dealt with a lot of troublemakers who clearly just haven’t read the Hogwarts rulebook.

Dean Winchester is not one of these.

Dean Winchester is clever. He knows exactly what he’s doing. He’s read the handbook and

And he never, ever gets caught.

Which is why Castiel is confused when he apprehends Dean for the third time in a month, trying unsuccessfully to get into a secret passage out of the school that Cas /knows he knows exactly how to access. And yet he’s tapping all over the one-eyes witch with his wand, cluelessly trying every combination of “Let me in!” that he can, acting for all the world as though he’s under some kind of Confundus charm.

He turns the light of his wand on Dean, and Dean turns around, doing a very good job of pretending to be startled.

“Dean Winchester?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” the boy grins, blushing and looking down at the floor but not seeming at all upset that he’s just been caught breaking five school rules at once.

“Yes, well, you’re out of bed after lights out, you’re messing with school property and you’re using magic in the corridors.” Cas is a little flustered and he can’t even explain why, but he still manages to tick at least some of the offenses off on his fingers.

“I /am? Oh, man, Cas, I’m so sorry. And I promise you it won’t happen again.” Dean is all mock-apologetic as he claps Cas on the shoulder and starts to walk away down the corridor.

“F-five points from Gryffindor!” Cas calls after him in a shaky voice.

This becomes a recurring problem. The following week, Cas runs into Dean in the restricted section of the library without a note giving him permission to be there. A few days later, he catches Dean in the act when he’s just about to set off a whole box of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes fireworks. Another time, he finds Dean on the Quidditch pitch after dark when it’s supposed to be locked up, flying loops just to show off. Sometime after that, Cas goes to take a bath in the Prefects’ bathroom at the end of a long day, and he finds the tub already overflowing with bubbles, Dean in a pair of red swimming shorts lazily swimming laps.

And for some reason it’s always harder for Cas to keep his cool around Dean that it is around anyone else. Usually he’ll dole out detentions without even blinking;the whole school respecting his authority, but something about this kid has him barely remembering the name of the red and gold house that he’s supposed to be taking points from. It /irks him, because he was given the Prefect position for a /reason, and he’s supposed to be unbiased and impartial and above such things.

After all this has been going on for a good few months, and Cas is no closer to figuring out what exactly is going on in Dean Winchester’s unfairly pretty head, he finds a piece of parchment on the floor. It’s on his normal patrol route, but not on a main corridor - it’s on one of the back routes that only Cas is responsible for walking down on his shift after lights out. It’s placed right in the middle of the corridor where Cas is guaranteed to see it. Almost as though it was left especially for him.

He picks it up. It looks blank at first, but when he unfolds it, he sees that it’s a map - an incredibly detailed map of the whole of Hogwarts castle, every room drawn, Cas believes, perfectly to scale, labelled in calligraphy, every secret passage and hidden entryway marked. Not only that, but the map is enchanted, constantly moving, staircases twisting their way through the halls in what Cas suspects is real time, and most importantly of all, tiny sets of footprints making their way through the castle halls, each with a name attached to them. Cas spots his own name next to his own footprints, which are still in the exact spot that he’s in.

He takes a step forward, and the footprints move with him.

Most of the spots are clustered in the common rooms and dormitories at this time of night; just a few Prefects and professors wandering up and down the corridors. But Cas has a sneaking suspicion he knows who this map belongs to, and the person doesn’t seem to be in the Gryffindor boys’ dormitories where he should be. Against his will, Cas finds his eyes skating over the map, looking for the potential offender.

Dean Winchester’s spot is pacing the Tallest Astronomy Tower.

Of course, none of this necessarily means that the map /actually corresponds to where people actually are. It could just be an example. Could be everyone is placed randomly and doesn’t move, no matter where they really are.

Which, of course, explains why Cas is already walking purposefully towards the Astronomy tower, taking each set of stairs two at a time, checking the map every few seconds to make sure Dean is still in the same place.

He reaches the door to the tower, and he’s not even completely conscious of why he’s doing it, but he runs a hand through his hair to fluff it up and he straightens his blue and bronze tie before he walks inside.

Dean’s there, as predicted, no longer pacing but standing in the center of the room - waiting for him? The tower is open to the heavens - not like the Great Hall, not like an enchanted version of the sky, but actually open, the summer night stars glinting down and reflecting off of magical lights that have been conjured and left to hover all around the edge of the circular tower room, a light breeze ruffling Cas’ robes as he steps towards Dean, noticing that the usually bare wooden floor is scattered with large, puffy gold and bronze cushions.

Cas holds out the map. “I think this is yours.”

Dean takes it from him, not at all surprised to see Cas there. “Don’t think it’s really anyone’s. Thing kind of has a mind of its own. But yes, I’ve been using it for a while.”

“Tell me something?” Cas asks. “You just admitted this is yours. With this you can see anyone coming at any time, you can always stay one step ahead of any professor or prefect, you never have to get found out by anyone. But you keep letting me catch you. Why?“

"That depends,” Dean says with a smirk. “Why’d you bring the map back instead of handing it into a professor? Seems like it’s a contraband object. Seems like I /should get in trouble.”

Cas opened his mouth to retort to that, but realized he didn’t have anything to say. Why /had he come here? Dean was right, after all. His first instinct, as a Prefect with designs on Head Boy at some point in the future, should have been to turn the object over to a member of staff. His mind shouldn’t even necessarily have jumped to Dean. But it had, and now he was here.

“Alright. That aside, why’d you wait for me? Why’d you pick a specific place, here, that you have /no reason to be and just pace around hoping I’d show up to find you?”

Dean spluttered, but quickly recovered. “Why’d you look for me on the map? Why’d you stare at it for so long that you saw where I was in the first place?”

“Why’d you decorate? The stars, the lights, the cushions? Why’d you set this all up for a special occasion?”

They stared at each other for a while, breathing heavily, waiting for the other one to be the first to break.

Cas cracked, and Dean gave up at the same moment, and then he both of them were lunging towards each other, Dean grabbing Cas by the tie he’d just straightened, pulling it askew, Cas fisting both of his hands in Dean’s robes, both yanking the other towards them, crashing their lips together so hard that it was almost painful when they met, their bodies falling into each other, their teeth clashing and their noses bumping and when they pull apart, they both tumble down onto the pile of cushions they’ve set up and /now Cas understands why they’re there, /now it makes sense because their landing is soft and they can reach for each other again immediately, both of them lying on their sides in the heap of fluffy pillows, kissing each other over and over and over again, each one making their lips tingle. Over time, as they grow used to the feeling, the kisses become slower, softer, more languid, and the hooded eyes when they pull away from each other are less from desire and more from tiredness, and they’re both sure they’d be happy to sleep here.

"So, what? You’ve been risking detention and house points for Gryffindor and your reputation as someone who never gets caught just to… just to get my attention?” Cas asks finally, propping himself up on one elbow.

Dean tugs him back down and kisses him again. “Well, you’re risking your Prefect position right now. But I feel like you always have to risk a little something to get the best things in life.”

And between holding hands on long walks by the lake, between screaming themselves hoarse together at Quidditch matches, between feeding each other Bertie Botts’ Every Flavour Beans while studying in the library, and between many, many more long nights in the Astronomy tower, Cas learns that as frustrating and complicated as he is; Dean is definitely one of the best things in his life.

2

I’ve wanted to draw the Dantalion djinn equip for like a million years and here I finally go oh boy

im sorry but where’s my phantom production with a woman as the phantom????? Like everyone in the opera house assumes that the phantom is a guy, and madam giry goes along with it because it keeps the truth hidden. then!!!! the phantom hears christine singing one day and immediately falls in love and develops an obsession with this soprano who is beautiful and delicate and kind, all of the things the world has taught the phantom that she could never be because of her appearance.

Then, when the phantom reveals herself to christine it’s even more dramatic. raoul can’t understand how christine could attach herself to another woman and the phantom hates him even more for it but understands what’s best for christine in the end and it’s heartbreaking on sO MANY MORE LEVELS

also she would literally be the dark mysterious lady that the world has needed

basically
•make it gayer

taeler looked up at the marquee of a movie theatre, brows knit in deep confusion. “so… they still don’t have clean water in michigan, but someone decided to blow a few million dollars on making bad santa 2,” he pondered aloud. “a sequel absolutely no one asked for, like, fifteen years after it was relevant.” he snorted, scratching his head.

anonymous asked:

Terf logic was so scarily easy to internalize for me, like I thought for years that I just had poor body image, until I'd been on tumblr for a long time and only just last year I came to terms with the fact that I am, in fact, one of "Them"--Us. I'm happier now that I'm out, but to see a terf spewing the kind of poison that used to run 'round in my head is just infuriating, because they're hurting my trans brothers and sisters and nb siblings and I want to punch them so bad. Sorry.

jeez,, im glad you did some soul seachin and figured that out about yourself! congrats! but yea terf logic is so insidious and it makes me so mad. i feel u my man

mod bird

ok but consider this, a (really bad) over the garden wall AU where the kids/teens in the Unknown swap roles with the ones in Greg & Wirt’s world

Wirt offends a cardinal with his poems, Beatrice wants to ask Anna (the Woodsman’s daughter) out on Halloween, and Lorna was pretty happy just existing but Beatrice has zero chill

im sorry this is the second terrible thing ive contributed to this fandom but i don’t see many otgw AU’s so i had to resort to this

Keep going, I’ll have your head on a stick.

Request:  Can I get a Chris imagine? When Jack’s group of people take over the Abigail Reid targets you simply to get a rise out of Chris. And maybe Reid like runs his fingers through your hair and over your neck and Chris just kind of loses it and mouths off and then after they group breaks free and Travis and Alicia are taken they just hug it out and she thanks him and gives him a kiss?? Thank you I love your writing. 

#dissociation 



You should be mad at Alicia, but you couldn’t be. You were more angry at yourself for letting your guard down around these people. They were too eager to get on board the ship and your boyfriend just wasn’t quick enough to make a decision. You were seated at the bar away from everyone else, but still thankfully in Chris’s line of sight. 

Reed slowly walked in a circle around the seating area, observing everyone carefully. There was no way of knowing what he would do to any of you. The sun was rising just over the horizon to start a new day. A day that may very well be your last.

Keep reading

tbh I hate that not wanting doubles is this thing that immediately means ur a fucking asshole, like okay yeah the jokes are funny sometimes but  some of us actually cannot mentally take seeing ppl with same ids/kins. I won’t speak for everyone that has this problem, but I personally don’t hate any doubles, I don’t think they’re bad people but it just fucks with my mental state..It’s literally nobody’s fault it’s just one of those things.

masterlist

* = smut

Blurbs:

| luke |

you forget to lock the door

taking a bath

dom luke (2) *

he wants you to stay the night

accidentally hurts you during sex *

argument in front of fans

play fighting

on your period

giggly sex *

bad fight

first kiss

autumn

threesome *

ticklish

boxer luke

dating luke

you’re in a pop punk band

asks you to top for the first time

snow day

clingy

little spoon

| michael |

he’s sick

cuddling and he gets hard

love/hate relationship

losing your virginity *

dating michael

lazy sunday sex *

morning sex *

| calum |

he asks you out

movie role

drunk

sex talk 

lazy sunday sex *

begging *

| ashton |

conversation before sex

handcuffs *

threesome *

under the covers *

Imagines:

| luke |

dry humping *

long day

into the edges around you *

i’d rather jump in your bones (part 2) *

you’re cold and i burn (argument)

tossing and turning

he shows you you’re beautiful

teaches you how to give a blow job *

february

| calum |

the way you do (comfort)

| ashton |

you’re quiet in bed *

you surprise him on tour *

| Michael |

cuddly

Preference:

after your first time

facial (michael & ashton) *

reaction to your kink *

all of my writing including ships and poetry

anonymous asked:

dysphoria is killing me. my living situation is killing me. i cant stand living with people i know actually hate me. my suicidal bouts are growing again. dysphoria is making it worse. no one wants to hire me because i dont have a diploma. i dont have one because my brain cant seem to compute mathmatics. im so tired of all of this.

Hey there! I’m so sorry that things are bad for you right now but don’t lose hope. Things will get better for you; you won’t be living there forever and then you can be wherever you want with much better people. If you’re wanting to medically transition then it’ll come along sooner than you realize, you’ll get there and you’ll get better. You also don’t need a dipolma for all jobs, there are plenty of people that will hire you and you will find a job. Just hang in there try doing things that make you happy, leave the house as much as you can, do things that make you feel masculine. You’ve got this and we’re here for you! I hope you feel better soon!!

-Louie

7

Jungwoo in SPEED MVs

i went to the informational meeting for the study abroad thing and im scared its really just going to be like school like they were like “you’re not there to make a fashion statement so just bring one dressy outfit" and the lady in charge more or less told us not to talk to boys who would have “bad intentions” like wtf its study abroad people are going to want to meet new people and get laid and shit like cmon. idk everything i’ve heard about study abroad is that people seem to agree the Experience is more important than the academics so if they end up corralling us in a classroom and no one wants to do anything fun w me i’ll be like. miffed. 

Consequences  (Yoongi)

Hello! May I req one yoongi angsty-fluff scenario where im like the one yoongi hates the most in this world since the first we met. But one thing happened that turns everthg upside down, ended up he never wanna lose me? Thank you:)

Here you are @thedawnsky! I’m so sorry this took so long.

Part II


Tuesday , 7:45pm

Loathe, detest, despise, dislike, hate.

I met her three months ago, an old friend of Hoseok’s and from that moment on, I never wanted to meet her again. Everyone had their bad traits, but never before had I met someone who’s bad outweighed their good, who truly drove me up the wall. It might make more sense to say I didn’t know why I felt such a strong desire to stay away from her, but I knew exactly why.

She was loud, always announcing herself by saying “hey guys! I’m home!” at the top of her lungs.

She was hardheaded, stubborn as all hell, never giving up without a fight even when it came to things easily solved.

She was too open, sharing unnecessary details to all of us, always droning on and on, she never shut up.

But the thing I hated more than her at this moment, was the uneven number of members, because now, sitting beside her in the driver’s seat of a car, empty except for the two of us, because of Namjoon’s awful ability at dividing people up, I have never been more irritated. Even though she’s silent next to me, her quiet brooding was much more annoying than if she was talking. I try to busy myself with the road in front of us, gripping the wheel with knuckles slowly turning white. My irritation mounts, a small amount of rage starting to bubble up in my chest with each side long glance at her, with her arms crossed and eyebrows knitted tightly together in a visual representation of her displeasure with our situation. I try to hold back my words- I swear I do, but…

“Look, you can knock off the childish pouting, neither of us are happy about this. Just stop.”

“Why do you  have to be so rude?” She snaps, eyes narrowing as she shifts further away from me. “I haven’t ever done anything to you, and all you ever do is act like a dick.”

“You annoy me.” I take a turn sharply, despite the darkness, skin starting to burn with the mounting frustration. “I thought maybe it was because you never shut the fuck up. But evidently, you’re even more annoying when you aren’t talking.”

She scoffs and the noise makes my skin crawl, every little thing she pulls, it gets under my skin. Unbridled anger controls my movements as I press the gas peddle a little more, desperate at this point to just get where we’re going, if only to feel relief from this anger I’ve never experienced before. It’s almost something I’m scared of, my own mind seems to be out of control, the thought of pulling over and pushing her out overpowering the more logical portion of my brain.

“I don’t deserve your fucking attitude, Yoongi.”

“Then just sit over there, shut the hell up, and stop acting like a little kid.”

“Fuck you, Min Yoongi.”

I can’t help but laugh. I laugh because this is the longest conversation we’ve ever had. I laugh because at this point my vision is becoming blurred because of my anger. I laugh because this is the first time she’s ever said anything abrasive to me, despite our mutual dislike of each other. The car whines beneath me as my foot presses down slightly more on the pedal again and in front of us the road begins to wind, twisting off into the distance, the cars containing the others slowly disappearing into the night. I feel warm, like there’s fire under my skin, fueling me on to say the next thing that comes out of my mouth-

Fuck me? Oh please, you’d love that. The only reason you hang out with us is so someone pays attention to your pathetic life. Hanging all over idols because we’re famous, you just want to feel like you fucking matter. But you don’t. And I can’t wait for everyone else to realize that.”

She’s silent this time, her hurt is evident in the way she shifts further away from me, but this only lasts for a moment, because with a tone made of poison she replies-

“The only pathetic one here is you. Can’t you just live your life without being so pissy all the fucking time? You’re disgusting.”

“Okay you know what. Just shut the fuck up-”

My head whips to the side, staring at her as I slam my hands against the wheel, I just need her to shut up for two fucking seconds. I shouldn’t have looked at her, I should’ve kept my eyes on the road, but I was so angry.

“Watch the fucking road-”

Tuesday, 8:01 pm

This is the meaning of the word chaos. This is the end of the world.

The truck’s light is blinding, white hot and it brings tears to my eyes. When I jerk the wheel, the tires scream under us, protesting at the sudden movement and it causes my ears to ring. But I can still hear her screaming. Even with the spots dancing in front of my eyes, I still see her hands fly up to protect her face as the car flips, only to have the skin torn apart by bits of glass. Even though the shock of what’s happening has caused me to feel numb, I still feel her blood hit my face in warm droplets, I still feel the glass snag my skin. The car’s roof crunches as it collapses in on us, the sound drowns out her pained groaning only for a moment, and then it’s back and it makes my head hurt. The car makes one more flip, busting out the remaining windows as it lands and I can’t hear anything. My eyes are blurred by blood running from an unknown source and I pray that it’s my blood, that I’m not covered in the blood of the girl who’s life I might have just taken. I can’t feel anything. The ringing in my ears subsides only a little, just enough to hear her still screaming, and it’s the last thing I hear before I slip into a comfortable darkness.

Tuesday, 9:02 pm

It’s warm here. I’m wrapped in a fuzzy blanket, and there’s a fire burning next to me. Above me, on the mantle, there’s pictures, some I recognize as old school photos and others are family portraits. The small room is filled with the smell of cooking food, something vaguely similar to ginger and baked sugar. There’s a long mirror standing next to me, and when I look into it, I see a happy me, one I hadn’t seen in a long time. My skin looks like it’s shining, a slightly pink tone illuminating my cheeks, the sign of a healthy child. The image of me that stares back from the mirror seems to not be able to help but smile. It’s a calming image. I want to stay in this room forever.

But someone’s calling for me…

“Yoongi, you’ve got to wake up. Come on, get up.”

“Yoongi, it’s time to wake up. Come on sweetie.”

Something bright is shone in my face again, disrupting my serenity. I turn my face away from it, trying to catch a glance of myself in the mirror again, but this time I see the silhouette of a girl behind me. Her face moves into the light and I see her lips, bloodied and dry, moving to form a sentence.

“Wake up.”

My body feels like it’s being yanked, a pulling sensation forming between my eyes. Panic floods my mind as the furniture around me begins to dissolve and the happy warmth seeps out of my safe haven. I’m reluctant to go, but something tells me I have no choice.

Maybe I’ll come back…

Tuesday, 9:40 pm

I’m only awake for a few moments before slipping back into a darkness that unlike the one before, is anything but comfortable and warm. My eyes open slightly, all activity around me slowed to an agonizing crawl and while I’m sure there’s plenty of noise, I find that I still can’t hear anything. I catch a glimpse of a nurse frantically injecting things into a small plastic sack above my head, her lips rapidly moving. She moves to my side, my eyes lazily following her as she comes to a stop next to a man wearing a medical mask, defibrillators poised to strike in his hands and judging by the already apparent stinging in my chest and my difficulty breathing, I’m sure this isn’t the first time they’ve been used on me. Using all the strength I can muster, I roll my limp head to the side, eyes barely open, searching for any sign that would help me rest easy after this, even if it was the end of the line. A jumble of nurses to my right shift around each other busily, swarming over what I come to realize as a bloodied body. My heart rate slows a little and a soft ringing begins in my ears, staying awake suddenly becomes a struggle as one of the nurses moves to the right and I get a good look at the battered face of a girl. The ringing begins to intensify as I drag my eyes away from the mutilated face and  find the heart monitor, slowly beeping. My lips curl up and while I can only feel half of my face, I know it must look peaceful of me to be smiling in my last moments. The fight to stay awake becomes much more difficult than before and I finally give it, allowing my eyelids to shut and my body to relax. Even so, the ringing becomes unbearable, it makes my mind go fuzzy and stars appear behind my eyelids. I’m not a murderer. I’m so sorry.

“Clear!”

Sunday, 10:56 am

“Min Yoongi of the widely known boy group ‘Bangtan Sonyeondan’ was declared legally dead for several  minutes after a near fatal car crash involving a girl who sources have identified as a friend of the group, who is still not responding to doctors. Stay with us-”

I can’t stand the sound of the reporter’s voice, all it does is drill into my head and leave it aching. Makes me wish I’d lost my hearing like the doctor said I was supposed to. Not that I got off easy though, left with hideous scars running up and down my arms and a hearing aid in my left ear. Not to mention a nasty bruise on almost the entirety of my right side and a broken leg rendering me bedridden for the next couple of weeks.

All this was tolerable though, in fact the weeks off from the hectic life I usually lived with Bangtan was readily welcomed. The sudden rest and relaxation would be much more enjoyable if it wasn’t spent in this place.

I was plagued by nightmares now, everytime I closed my eyes, I saw her bloodied face in the car next to me, or heard her screaming. Or worse, I imagined that the monitor next to her limp body would flatline and Hoseok’s eyes barring into me with hatred, accusing me. Murderer. When I wasn’t asleep, which was a frequent occasion, I was in constant pain, the deep bruise  on the right side of my lungs made taking a deep breath ridiculously painful, and the stitches in my wounds itched and ached consistently. I hadn’t had much sleep over the past few days, the sleeping pills they give me were tossed as soon as I thought it was clear. I knew I must look like a wreck and I’m sure the nurses weren’t as dumb as I thought they were and most likely were aware of my little game but decided to ignore it because of my idol status.

I stayed awake for her. Every night I watched the monitor beep, and every night I hoped she’d wake up again, even if the first thing out of her mouth was a string of cuss words, damning me to hell for all that I’d put her through. Sometimes at night I’d speak to her torn up form, apologizing over and over until tears rolled down my cheeks and the gasping they caused made my ribs hurt. I wanted to sit next to her bed and beg her to wake up, I’d lower myself to the ground and grip her hands and pray she’d know how sorry I was, how badly I felt. Movement was restricted for me and it was driving me insane. Day in and day out doctors and nurses floated in and stood over her, murmuring and poking and never giving answers.

The worst was when the boys visited. Jimin always tried to stay bright, bringing small gifts and visiting frequently, sometimes with Jungkook and Taehyung, who avoided eye contact with me, but played along with Jimin’s erratic behavior. Despite my band mates efforts, I still felt the tension in the air, their direct blame of me for the problems that were now clouding us was evident. Namjoon visited by himself a lot, spewing inspirational lines and trying his best to maintain his gaze when he looked at me, but with him I couldn’t tell if it was because of how awful I looked or because of what I’d done. His visits were short, ended with a quick pat of my unbroken leg before he practically ran out the door murmuring a goodbye. Seokjin often came with Hoseok, and these visits were the worst. Hoseok has only said four words to me, all of which were none to kind and Seokjin later told me he knew I wasn’t feeling like myself because there was a lack of angry remarks from me at Hoseok’s sharp tongue. Now he just wanders over to her bed and sits there, hunched over with his head in her lap, and his silent crying sometimes reaches my ears and makes me want to rip the needles out of my arm and throw myself at his feet, begging him to kill me because it’s what I deserved. Seokjin tries his best to comfort me, but all it does is make me feel uncomfortable.

On this particular night, the nurses had forgotten a pair of crutches next to my bed and already a plan was formulating in my mind. I was waiting for someone to notice the missing pair and take them away from me, but hours passed and they remained leaned just within my reach. I kept my eyes trained on everyone who entered the room, anticipating the end to my plot with every slight turn nurses took towards my bed, but they were too focused to notice. Before I knew it, it was lights out and the nurses made one last round to our room before flipping the light switch, handing me my sleeping and pain pills and uttering a hushed goodnight. I counted footsteps as she rushes down the hall. Once it felt safe, I tossed the sleeping pill and downed the hydrocodone dry and dragged in a deep breath, wincing a little. Giving myself a little time to prepare my aching body for the trial I was about to put it through.

Gently I pushed myself up to a sitting position, pain ripping through my muscles and body screaming at the sudden movement. It took everything I had not to cry out, opting instead to bite my bottom lip until blood began to seep into my mouth. With another gentle and timid movement I pulled the sling holding the bandaged leg elevated loose until finally I was released, my leg hitting the bed again causing me to sink my teeth into my lip, tears slipping out of my eyes. My ribs felt like they might crack and shatter if I moved again but breathing hard I leaned towards the crutches, fingertips brushing it at first until I managed to wrap one around it and pull. One falls onto my bed, the other hitting the floor with a loud crash that causes my body to freeze.

Fuck.

One, two, three then four seconds pass as I wait for the sudden noise from a supposedly sleeping room to attract someone who could put an end to my actions, but nothing happens. No body comes running and I release a labored breath at my lucky streak. Cursing under my breath, I pull my body towards the crutch, heaving it over the side of the bed and finally into a half standing, half sitting position. With my body leaned majorly on my new inanimate friend and my left hand gripping the bags of liquid attached to me, I take a timid step. Upon finding that putting too much weight on my bandaged foot caused pain to rocket up through my body and making my scalp tingle. This time I do cry out a little, strangled gasps and whimpers escaping from me as I hobble little by little towards her.

“Y/N.” I whisper, voice hoarse and strained. “Y/N, I want you to wake up.”

Suddenly, through a pained and excruciating journey across the tiny space between our beds, I find myself in front of the person I’d ruined. This victim of my anger, innocent until I’d tainted her with my outrage, directed at someone who never deserved it in the first place. My body lowers in a tender way, joints protesting at the amount of movement I was putting them through after all the lying about I’d done, until my knees touch cold tile. Abandoning the crutch, I reach my hands up to grab hers, face barely above the edge of the bed as I let the tears stream freely down my heated cheeks. My lungs are exhausted and my body is upset, every stitch and broken bone desiring rest even after my small trek.

“Y/N, oh god please forgive me. I’ve made such an awful mistake. Y/N please, if you wake up now, I promise I’ll protect you. I swear to god I’ll be there always, I won’t let anyone touch you, not one person will lay their hand on you. I’ll kill them before they even get to stand in front of you. You know I’m capable of it, you always said my anger made me crazy.” A small chuckle escapes my lips. “I’ll be here. I’ll always be here, I want you in my life. I’m so guilt ridden and I feel like I’m dying, we miss you. I- I miss you…”

I let my face drop into the blankets, staining them with the evidence of my sorrow, hands gripping her slightly chilled ones tightly, feeling her pulse through the skin of my shaking fingers. The silence of the hospital suffocates me, I want her to speak, I want to hear her annoying voice scold me, bitch at me or just speak to someone else, I needed to hear it. I wanted this sign of her life, I wanted this sign that I wasn’t a murderer. If she’d just wake up. My heart is resting in my throat, everything is aching as sobs take over my body but I don’t care, I welcome the suffering, aware that I deserve every bit of it.

“Please Y/N. Please don’t leave me.”

Now all that I can hear is the small beeping of her monitor and my own pathetic crying. Everyone leaves at some point in their life, whether it be through death or a trip away from home, and if anyone knew this it was me. I’d lost so many people in my life and was able to deal with it, though it may have been through destructive ways I knew now that if I lost this irritating and beautiful person, I would destroy everything, myself including. Myself especially. Sitting here with the smell of overly cleaned and disinfected sheets smothering me, the realization that should I give my life for hers, this world would be a nicer, much more calm place. That if I just ripped this lifeline out of my arm and one by one took the sleeping pills I’d kept hidden then maybe she’d live, maybe I could make up for the choices I’d made, maybe-

The hand clutched in mine is moving.

Sunday, 11:34 pm

Time has come to a complete stand still. Delicate fingers are twitching in my calloused grip, moving ever so slightly but still enough to make my heart stop. Removing my face from the safety of the white linen, I watch for another sign, anything. Again, her fingers twitch, and then again and again until they are wrapped loosely around my hold. My eyes move to her face, watching another twitching begin, pink lips moving open as a small groan, hardly audible slips out. Next the movement travels to her eyes, eyelids fluttering and eyebrows scrunching as a light red color returns to her cheeks, the sign of life. I’ve forgotten the hurt in my body, the only thing that remains is an overwhelming sense of hope. The monitor begins to beep a little faster as her heart wakes up just as the rest of her does, eyelids finally opening, just slightly because of the deeply purple bruises bloomed across her face.

And now I am staring into eyes so bright they could light up the world.

I feel laughter bubble up in my chest, crazy and wild it comes out in short gasps as she gazes confused at me. There is recognition and confusion in those eyes, whether it be because I nearly killed her or because she’s surprised I’m alive I don’t care, as long as they are open. Her chapped lips move gently, small squeaks coming out until finally;

“Yoongi?”

It’s hardly even a whisper, but it sets me over the edge and I’m kissing her fingers, pushing myself up by the bed and pressing kisses on her face and arms, anywhere I can find that isn’t covered in purple. The laughter is still spilling out as I fall next to her, softly pulling her towards me-

“We need a nurse.” My voice doesn’t get  very loud but I still scream. “Help! Help, we need help in here!”

She winces at my contact but still moves her hands to touch my arms while my hands busy themselves by pushing her hair away from her face. Confused questions come in a steady stream from her as I listen to the sound of nurses rushing towards us, pure euphoria pulsing throughout my body.

“No, no please don’t talk, I’m right here. You’ll be okay, I promise I’m going to protect you. You’ll be alright.” The tears are steady from eyes as I press my face into her shoulder, peppering kisses until I’m pulled away by the hand of a nurse, and before the view of her is overtaken by helpers I yell one last time-

“I’ll never leave your side again.”

I LOVE THIS FIC? YEAH.

I HATE THE WRITERS FOR MAKING ME FEEL PAIN? YEAH.

A LITTLE BITING SCENE BASED IN @blueberrynedesu and @vixenfur FIC

BC I LOVE THE FIC BUT HATE YOU GUYS ;U; YOU KNOW WHAT IM TALKING ABOUT  

SO I HOPE THE NEXT CHAPTER DONT BE ANYTHING TOO…BAD…