its inside your head

fireflies | M

Contains: fluff, smut {punk!taehyung}

Words: 17,158

Summary: “There’s no hope for people like us, sweetheart. We’re destined to fall in love a thousand times, and have our hearts broken in each one of them. We might as well be miserable together.”

[img cr]

A/N: Long fics might be turning into my new aesthetic. I’m sorry.

You never truly believed in love at first sight ― there was no reason to. The very idea seemed far too preposterous to be taken seriously, too ludicrous to exist outside of dreamy movies or forgotten fairy tales. How could two strangers cultivate such deep, mesmerizing emotion in the mere seconds they held a glance? How was it possible for them to simply know of their fate in the short amount of time they encountered each other? ― No; there were no soulmates, no predestined encounters. At least not for you. For you, there was only the faint ghost of a broken heart, the haunting of crumbled expectations; and the strong, determined promise to never fool yourself into another failed attempt at romance.

When you first saw him, however, you felt like the cosmos had morphed into static.


Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Do you ever rewatch Welcome to Hell? Just for your own enjoyment?

Aaaaabsolutely not.

In fact, if I’m around other people and someone pulls it up on youtube to show it off, I will actually leave the room.  If I can’t leave the room, I will bury my face in my phone, or my food, or whatever else is nearby for me to fiddle with.  If I happen to be in the middle of a conversation with someone else in the room, I’ll TRY to ignore it and continue having the conversation, but my brain will go blank and my face will go red and I’ll find myself trailing off, stopping every couple of words, because I can hear Welcome to Hell in all of it’s poorly-mixed glory echoing softly across the room; it’s dialogue like the ghost of an old lover whispering in my ears.  How is the audience responding?  Are they laughing with it, or at it?  Are they silent because they’re bored, or invested?  Do they know why it looks the way it does; what I went through to make it?   Do they get it?  Do they think I’m crazy? 

IT’S TOO MUCH, DUDE.  It’s too much.  

Take Me || Stiles S.

Word Count: 4,133ish

Warning: Rough smut,😉

Prompt: Hi! I was wondering if you could do a Stiles smut where the reader and Stiles are like, lab partners or something, and Stiles has been mumbling really dirty stuff to you for weeks, and you finally tell him to do something, and then it’s really hard and rough. Thanks so much!! 

You’re my first request and my love for you extends wayyyy past the galaxy. You are the best beautiful! I hope this is what you wanted and I didn’t know if you wanted to be tagged. If not, let me know:) @pick-the-petalst

A/N: Also, just wanted to thank everyone for 130 followers! It might not be much to anyone else, but I didn’t think I’d even have 1 so I am more than grateful! You all are magnificent beauties and I hope you all have an extraordinary day. Much love 💕

(Gifs are not mine)


Monday

“Those jeans are looking extra tight today.” His lips grazed the outer shell of your ear as his hand slid onto your thigh. “Definitely makes me wonder what they would look like on the floor of my bedroom.”

Your breath caught in your throat. Yes, this had been going on for weeks now but it always affected you. Stiles had become your lab partner at the beginning of the semester and at first, you thought that it might actually go well. He seemed like a smart kid and even though Harris liked to torment him about failing his class, Stiles didn’t seem to be having any trouble.

All that went downhill about two days into your partnership. 

You had just arrived into class wearing a new skirt that you had recently bought over the weekend. It was black and faux leather. You knew that it was a little short, but it wasn’t too bad that you thought people would notice.

Stiles did.

The second you sat down in your seat he was leaning over to you. “Damn, I didn’t know you could get any hotter babe.”

“Excuse me?” You questioned raising your eyebrow at him.

“Oh, Princess, we can excuse ourselves right now and I can show you just how a man treats a lady.” He whispered against the side of your cheek.

You had always thought that Stiles was hot. Hell, he was super sexy, especially when he would wear his baseball cap flipped backward and his unlimited amount of flannels. But, right now, you didn’t know whether to be turned on, flattered, or appalled.

You turned your face to glare at him, but he was already giving you the once-over with his eyes.

You didn’t want it to be, but unfortunately, your teenage hormones got the best of you and heat rose to your cheeks.

“We have never spoken one word to each other and that’s what you start with?” You questioned hoping that he wouldn’t notice the redness that was dawning on your face.

But he did. Of course, he did.

Slowly, a grin curled onto the side of his thin pink lips. His eyes raked the length of your body at an agonizingly sluggish pace causing you to squirm in your seat. He took notice in that too because as he met your eyes a smirk was slipped on his mouth.

“All those dirty little thoughts that are going through that pretty little head of yours could be a reality. Just say the word and I’ll take you on this desk right now.” His eyes shined with pure honesty in his words and suddenly the room was the temperature of the sun. Heat crawled down your neck, past your heavy breasts, through the tingling sensation in your belly, and made its home in your core. The wetness already seemed to be dampening your panties.

As if he would smell your arousal, he leaned in closer. “Say the word Babygirl.”

You couldn’t speak. You couldn’t even move afraid that a moan would slip from your lips. How did this man have so much power of you with just words?

“Stilinski! Attention to the front! Please don’t bother miss L/N.” Harris yelled breaking Stiles’s intense stare he had on you. 

As his eyes left you, you took in a deep breath.

“Yes sir, wouldn’t dream of bothering her.” 

But that is exactly what he had in mind. He wanted her all bothered. Hot and bothered and wriggling underneath him while moaning his name.

You tried not to look at him, but curiosity got the best of you and you peeked at him. He was already staring at you, but this gave him the chance to rile you up some more.

He sent you a wink right as the bell rang.

Now, weeks later it has been a constant one-sided flirtation with a huge dose of lust sprinkled in every sentence that flowed from his amazingly beautiful mouth.

Not that you thought his mouth was beautiful, or that it could do beautifully dirty things as it scrapped the inside of your thighs. No, you had never thought of that.

Let’s all be honest with each other, it wasn’t a normal Monday if that thought didn’t go through your head at least twice.

Today, was no different. 

“Those jeans are looking extra tight today.” His lips grazed the outer shell of your ear as his hand slid onto your thigh. “Definitely makes me wonder what they would look like on the floor of my bedroom.”

“It definitely makes me wonder when you’re going to shut your mouth.” You muttered knowing that he could hear you as you continued to finish your chemistry worksheet.

“Sweetheart, is that the only thing you want my mouth to do?” It was as if he had read your mind and your pencil halted in writing the sentence it was currently on.

Keep reading

Meaningful Lyrics from Self-Titled
  • Implicit Demand for Proof: Rain down and destroy me
  • Fall Away: I don't know if I am dying or living
  • The Pantaloon: Your bones are held together by your nightmares and your frights
  • Addict With a Pen: My trial was filed as a crazy suicidal head case
  • Friend, Please: I know you want to leave but friend, please don't take your life away from me
  • March to the Sea: No one looks up anymore 'cause you might get a raindrop in your eye
  • Johnny Boy: No one really knows his mind and no one knows behind his eyes
  • Oh Ms. Believer: Your shaking shoulders prove that it's colder inside your head than the winter of dead
  • Air Catcher: I'm not sure I want to give you tools that can destroy my heart
  • Trapdoor: He used to see dreams at night but now he's just watching the backs of his eyes
  • A Car, a Torch, a Death: And then I said I'll take the grave, please just send them all my way
  • Taxi Cab: We're driving toward the morning sun where all your blood is washed away and all you did will be undone
  • Before You Start Your Day: Look in the mirror and ask your soul if you're alright, put out the glitter that your soul hides behind
  • Isle of Flightless Birds: And it's time you pick your battle, and I promise you this is mine
For One Day

“For One Day”

I wish for one day,
I could be someone else.
To say what they say.
To feel what they felt.

I want a new mind,
A new body; a new heart.
I want to be able to find,
What I looked for from the start.

I wish for one time,
I was you instead of me.
To see through your eyes.
To see what you see.

I want new dreams.
New desires; new goals.
New fabric at the seams,
And a way to plug this hole.

I want a new direction.
A new purpose, a new meaning.
If I want perfection,
I’ll audition for screenings.

I want new gloves.
New family, new friends,
Except the ones I love,
Are invited to attend.

I wish for a moment,
I could see inside your head,
And all of its components,
To say the things you said.

Because I feel worn down.
So jaded and so cold.
Its time to pass the crown,
Because I am getting old.

I feel on most days,
Forgotten and removed.
I’m someone you throw away,
Like a pair of worn out shoes.

You don’t understand,
What its like to be me.
So lets not pretend,
I have a healthy body.

You don’t want to know,
The thoughts in my head.
They once brightly glowed,
But now they spell out dread.

So let us start over,
Please God if you may.
Wishing upon clovers,
For brighter, better days.

Personal Injuries

CHAPTER 4
SLBP FIC
Tokugawa Ieyasu/MC
Romance/Angst/Fluff
LINKS to CHAPTER 1 | CHAPTER 2 | CHAPTER 3



WOHOOOOOO the overdue Chapter 4 is heereeeeeeeee! Warning for meanie, bully Ieyasu and his mind games. I’m sorry not sorry, he will grow, I promise!




“Say, kitchen wench, why do you think you are here now in my chamber?”

“… You, you requested me, Milord…?”

“Obviously. But why do you think?”

Only you and the God of Tanuki knows. “I… don’t know.”

“Now that’s a lie. You don’t act like you don’t know.”

Damn that smirk of his.

“Well?”

“To… to serve you…,” in bed, her mind finished her sentence.

“Hmm, that’s not wrong,” he said, seemingly thinking of something.

The chirps of the crickets outside sounded loud in the silence that followed. Oh, how she wished she were one of them.

“Bed.”

“…Milord?”

He indicated the direction of the bedding with a shrug. “Bed. Now.”

It was told in fairy tales, many times, that when a woman in dire situations prays hard enough, a kindly god would save her from her peril by turning her into something – a tree, a seafoam, a fish. She called for help from whatever gods were listening.

But apparently, there were none that night.

“Don’t,” she could hear the ire rising in his voice, “make me repeat myself.”

She chewed her bottom lip. What could she do, what should she do? Bits of conversations she had heard from castle maids came back to her – how it was better to go along, to let it pass quickly, to let men do what they want to do, that it wasn’t that bad, that you would get over it, that they would protect us – we should show gratitude, that resisting them would have consequences…

“I-,” the word escaped her mouth.

Ieyasu lifted his eyes from the floor, daring her to speak.

“I-I-I am… I am inexperienced, M-Milord,” she stammered, hoping that the fact would dissuade him.

But it was met with a chuckle. “You don’t say…”

“I-,”

“Go.”

“But-”

“Do you prefer to be dragged by your hair?”



Keep reading

You drew a cloud around yourself when you were born.
Carrying rain wherever you went,
hands like thunderbolts, eyes
like the dark of the moon:
a mystery, something only to be guessed at,
unknown.

You became a myth in the hands of a flawed God
who lived inside your head; a Zeus of broken clockwork,
grinding its gears, and tirelessly feeding you lies.
Outside the tyranny of your head,
people wondered what it must be like
to know someone so quiet,
silence must roll off her tongue like a lovesong.

You thought you had a face only a mother could love,
a collage of imperfections stitched together,
like a quilt of disbelief.
And I pulled at the loose thread
till the curtain came apart.

Almond eyes, deep brown like caramel
left a luscious moment too long on the stove.
A nose so shapely, even Nefertiti would blush.
Behind your smoke and your mirrors,
was the oldest twenty year old girl I’d ever known,
who shied away from the Sun.

And now the moon spins slower,
just to bounce its light off you a little longer.

—  haider m, The Girl
8

It was a very unique prep process. David Ayer does more… he calls it rehearsal but it’s much more like group therapy where you sit around and everybody talks about their deepest emotional issues and your trials and tribulations.

Struck (Part Eleven)

EXO Fanfiction: Fantasy AU
Main pairing - Female Reader x Kim Jongdae/Chen
A mysterious group move into your apartment building and you find yourself drawn to them, one in particular… but is it safe? Who are they really?

< Previous | Next >

‘THERE YOU ARE!’

You gasped as a body collided with you, arms wrapping around your neck and squeezing as they rocked you excitedly from side to side.

‘Wh-Wha-‘ you spluttered, your face chest squashed into an unknown chest, obscuring your view and muffling your voice.

‘WE WERE SO WORRIED ABOUT YOU! I’m so so sorry you got dragged off, and we had to leave. But oh my gosh, you have been amazing, you found Jongdae! Wow! Oh he is looking for you, won’t shut up about you, yo-‘

Keep reading

I hate that I’m not her. I hate that I can’t make you laugh so hard you cry, and I hate that I can’t make you feel like she can. I hate that I can’t kiss you or hug you like she can. I hate that I’m not her.
—  M.E

anonymous asked:

do you study? how do you manage to study and skam at the same time bc it's impossible for me

Hey, anon! Yes, yes I do study and well … I have no advice for you there is no way really ! *insert it’s-just-not-realistic.gif*. Personally I have forgotten what the word sleep means, but I wouldn’t recommend the experience :p

What Happens In Vegas: Part 3

A Bucky x Reader / AU drabble series

Master List 

A/N: You guys have been so awesome with the feedback on this story! I’m so glad you like it. I haven’t been able to stop writing it! Let me know what you think. I live for your reactions! ♥

Word Count: 896

Warnings:
- language. 

Tags: (at the end)

*gif is not mine. 

Another knock at the bathroom door made you jump again, this time yelping in surprise, clutching your heart. The sheet slipped a bit and you caught it, wrapping it around you tighter.

“Y/N, you’ve been in there for like twenty minutes and I have to pee…” It was Bucky again, and you rolled your eyes so far in the back of your head you saw your own skull. “You okay in there?”

“I’m fine,” you snapped quickly, standing up. “I’m coming out.”

Fuck. The ring.

Keep reading

coffee // optional bias

“you didn’t have your morning coffee today and the uni lecture and teacher you had were not helping with your cranky mood so as you burst out the doors of the cafe with your well needed coffee we bump into each other and your coffee spilled over both of us so you start cursing me out until i manage to calm you down” au

genre: fluff?? / warning(s): idk bad writing ig *lol*, written in lapslock, a little swearing

word count: 1.7k

note: wow i actually wrote something not angsty since the kisses drabble :0 reader’s a bit of a jerk in this yikes. but sorry for mistakes and enjoy??

Keep reading

Wearing his Coat (Reaper x Reader)

Reaper was cleaning and reloading his shotgun, as usual. Its like its his schedule to clean and reload. Sometimes he checks if they are broken, if so. He’s going to fix them. Sometimes he spend most of his time at the shooting range to make sure his guns are not broken.

Sometimes you wonder, why did you love and stay with him. Sure, he’s feared when people mention or dare to say his name. You’ve been into your thoughts with the 5W and 1H about you and Reaper. Hell, if they call him ruthless and remorseless. You don’t care. Reaper is a mercenary. Mercenary do it for the money. For Reaper, his goal is different than money.

Feeling bored, you looked around the share base of you and Reaper. Shotguns, shotguns shells, dishes, clothes, Reaper’s gloves, Reaper’s boots, your jacket, your hoodie and last of all was Reaper’s cloak.

A grin crept along your face as you went to the cloak who was placed neatly at the cloak hangers. Reaper always wear his cloak except when its Checking and Cleaning gun day. A cunning plan formed inside your head as you put on the cloak. It was warm and has the scent of Reaper.

The cloak was big since Reaper was taller and bulkier than you. His sleeves was short and it drap at your shoulders. The hoodie went over your eyes, making you seeing the outline of the cloak. You pulled back the hoodie and walked around. Trying to be like Reaper.

You cleared your throat, to make that deep voice of Reaper. “I am Reaper.” You said as you pranced around the living room. You make your hands to be like his shotguns. “I am death.”

“I have a deep voice and I must drink water if I continue speaking to my enemies.” You make a few shotgun noises to kill the ‘enemies’.

You jumped from the coach to the armchair. “I can fly like a bat. I am the dark knight. Whooossshh…”

You turned around and glared at the apple. “Another one off the list…” You shot the apple.

“Enemy down.” You speak to your imaginary headset.

You rolled on the floor and throw the pillow to the kitchen floor. “I work the kitchen shift.”

You went to the balcony to shout some more but the cloak was pulled by someone you know. “I didn’t teach you all my tricks.” Reaper said as he pull you away from the balcony.

“I’m just getting the objective.” You smiled. Reaper raised an eyebrow. “And that is?”

“Your heart.” You leaned towards him and gave him a short sweet kiss.

Reaper arms started to go to your waist but you pulled away, still smiling while blushing. “Let me finish the job.” Reaper said as he grab you and slung you like a sack.

“H-Hey!” You punched his back.

“You didn’t think I forget about you?” He patted your butt. “Your soul is mine…”

“I am so dead…” You muttered when Reaper put you on the bed, closed the bedroom door and turn off the light.

“Expect nothing less… from me.”

just--a-pervert-guy  asked:

the mercy, reaper, genji, s76 s/o having a existential crisis because they are some type of monster(can you make more close of body horror, like 4 eyes or a third Eye, sharp teeth, they nail will be sharp enogh to cut someone if they dont trim them enough and a tummy mouth you can change these characteristics if you want) i really want to see how they'll comfort the s/o (bonus: s/o ask mercy to "cure" them/ reaper s/o say they envy reaper because he is a human and they arent)

Soldier: 76


During the first omnic crisis, you’re one of the soldiers under Major Reyes’ command. You don’t belong to the strike team itself, there’s nothing special about you that would secure you a place there, but you still follow his orders, no matter how rarely you see him in person. Captain Morrison is more of a familiar figure, as he makes a habit of checking up on the troops in person whenever he has the chance. Which is increasingly often as the war thins out the people and forces them closer together. And once, towards the end of the crisis, he leads what remains of your platoon in person. The major delegated the task to him and from the second he walks up to you, orders in hand, you know just completing the mission won’t do. Captain Morrison flew up the career ladder and this, despite his rank, is his first real command.

He’s nervous, eager to please, bent on going above and beyond the call of duty. He sees you all walking home with medals.

Barely any of you walk home at all.

It’s not his fault, you admit even at your most bitter. For all his enthusiasm and pathos he’s a good officer. It couldn’t have gotten worse, but you’re still glad it was him who led you into hell.

The moment you infiltrate the omnium, tasked with disabling the god program, shit goes up arse over tit. The omnic forces divide and conquer and as you flee towards the main frame you are accompanied by the agonised screams of your people. At the end it’s just you and the captain and neither of you expects to survive this.

“Specialist.” he says to you with the gravity of a man who’s about to send someone to their death. “Complete our mission.”

Keep reading