made for movement

Warm Me Up - NCT Taeyong fluff

Cold winters, Taeyong’s smile, and a shower… read on to see what it’s about :)

Word count: 1,027

Lotso’ flufffff!!!

Originally posted by taeyonghi

You breath a sigh of relief as you burst into your apartment. You kick the door shut, shoving out the nipping winter air. “Too cold, too cold! This is the exact opposite of hot as the devil’s balls.” Slapping your cheeks a few times, you convince yourself that your shivering body has gone numb to all feeling as you slip off your boots. As you sniffle uncontrollably, your fingers fumble with the zipper of your giant winter overcoat (admittedly Taeyong’s) as you repeatedly hop in place to speed up your warming process. Frozen fingers made for clumsy movements and in your frustration you trip over a pair of sneakers that were strewn across the floor. 

Clinging to the wall, you quietly breathe, “I swear I just saw death before my eyes.” You shake your head at your own antics, aware of how ridiculous you were sometimes, clumsiness and self-narration and all. Taking more notice of the sneakers, the corners of your mouth twitch up as you realize that your boyfriend is home. 

Instantaneously you turn into an excited, agile beast as you shrug off the rest of your warm layers, leaving you in a black long sleeve and leggings. You slide your mismatched winter socks across the hardwood floor into the shared bedroom - totally not accidentally slamming into the door or anything. As soon as you slip into the room, the familiar tune of Mad City carries through the air, slightly muffled by the flow of the shower head. 

You creep into the bathroom, thankful that Taeyong left the door open. You listen to Taeyong effortlessly rap through the verses and smile at his distinct deep voice. Content with just silently enjoying his presence, you lean against the counter and continue to his secret performance. 

Squeaking sounds come from inside the bathtub and you realize the Taeyong is most likely dancing in there, a precarious but endearing hobby that both of you share. His rap melts away into random sounds and beatbox-esque noises as his feet continue to squeak away. You find yourself snickering quietly as Taeyong starts to sound more and more like a confused parrot. Lifting your hands to mask the sound, you flinch at your cold fingers against your mouth. 

Deciding that it’s about time to warm yourself up, you slip out of your clothes as the song transitions to an acoustic song that you can’t quite remember the name of in the moment. Taeyong is still humming behind the curtain, oblivious to the heart attack you’re about to give him.

Slowly clutching the shower curtain in your fingers, you more clearly hear his cute singing and you almost feel guilty. Almost. 

Yanking open the curtain partway, you scream out his name as you poke your head into the open section. His eyes startle open wide as he lets out a blood curdling screech that leaves you falling to the ground in laughter. In his panic he drops a bottle onto the bathtub floor as his hands stabilize himself against the slick wall.

Still leaning against the tub on the ground, you struggle to catch your breath as you peer up at him. His face is painted with a pout as he whines at you, “왜~~~?!” (trans: why) His shoulders wiggle in adorable defiance. 

You weakly wave your hand up at him, signaling for him to help you get up. With an annoyed scrunch of his nose, he offers a hand down to you. Remnant giggles still escaping your mouth, you grasp his hand as he helps you stand from your collapsed heap on the floor. 

“Babe, why are your hands so cold?! Get in here!”

His annoyed demeanor immediately melted away into a concerned one as he tugs you into the shower. You squeal at the contrast of hot water against your freezing skin much to Taeyong’s amusement. “Taeyong this is WAY TOO HOT!”

It’s his turn to laugh as you wriggle around the bathtub, trying to avoid the reach of the shower head.  You shove your head against his back as you slip your hands around his abdomen, using him as a shield against the scorching hot water.

You feel him chuckling underneath your cheek as his fingers work to pry your hands off of him. He quickly turns around and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you right into him. Still your shield against the hot stream, Taeyong leans his forehead down to yours. Droplets of water from his hair start to stream down your face as he simply stares into your eyes. His mouth slowly stretches into a small grin and you find your cheeks heating up, not necessarily because you were shy under his gaze, but because he managed to make you feel beautiful in under a second.

Your hands make their way to cup his jaw and as your thumbs slowly stroke his wet skin. Not even fighting your own grin you look at him with sincerity, “Pabo you can’t smile at me like that.”

His eyebrows quirk in confusion, wordlessly asking you to explain. 

“It makes me fall in love with you more each time and honestly that’s really scary.”

His whole face lights up as he swoops to down to capture your lips in his. You feel his arms tighten around you, bringing you in so close that you could feel every slight movement of his abs. It’s a short kiss, but he pulls his lips away as slowly as possible. Your mouth slightly chases after his own and you feel his cheeks lift into an even bigger smile. 

One of his hands snakes its way to your cheek as he looks at you with the same heart-stopping gaze. “I really really really love you a lot too. So don’t worry, we’re scared together.”

He kisses your nose to punctuate the end of his sentence and somehow you melt more into his arms. He understands what you are asking for… the prolongment of this quiet solace. 

Yes, you are quite scared of how much you love this man, but in this moment, nothing terrifies you more than a world without him by your side. 


Wowow this was my first NCT scenario!

Check out my masterlist here! I have a ton of Exo thingos if that’s of any interest to you. (and yes hopefully I will continue to write NCT things)

<3 <3<3 

“the Civil Rights Movement was peaceful”

Bitch where?

Because I remember learning about Freedom Riders being killed, endless lynchings, dogs and hoses being set on children, and four little girls who died in a church bombing.

Oh, but I guess all that matters when you’re trying to use MLK to silence people talking about resistance now is to talk about this idealized image of how shit got done in the past.

The Civil Rights Movement wasn’t peaceful. It wasn’t nonviolent. Not for the people trying to fight for a right to be recognized as humans worthy of empathy and freedom.

The people fighting for their rights were subject to violence all the time and threatened.

When you talk about how peaceful that movement was as a way to silence or shame people now for anger at current injustice, you’re saying that your grasp of history probably begins and ends at “I have a dream”.

Come Back to Me (Part Four)

Fandom: Marvel
Ship: Peter Parker x Reader
Requested: Yes
Genre: Angst
Warnings: Car Accident, Kinda Claustrophobia, Injuries/Bruising, Crying

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten

Originally posted by sincerelysaraahh

Ever since the night Peter hadn’t come to your house because he was taking care of May two weeks ago, he made sure to send you a text every night to tell you he would be coming over. It made you feel guilty for making him feel bad, but you couldn’t help but be relieved every time your phone vibrated with a text from him.

Tonight when he texted you, it read about a car chase that he was going to try to stop. He said that he probably wouldn’t be over until late, and you sighed, moving from your bed to make yourself another cup of coffee to keep your tiredness at bay.

You walked into your kitchen, thankful both your parents were out of town on a  business trip so you could make all the noise you wanted to. You turned the coffee machine on, waiting for it to heat up, and you opened the cupboard to take out the bag of coffee grains.

You were met with an empty cupboard. You groaned and threw your head back in annoyance, realizing you would have to go out and buy more coffee. Knowing Peter wouldn’t arrive for a while, you decided to take the trip to the convenience store. You went into your room, opening your bedroom window just in case Peter finished earlier than he said he was. You grabbed some money and slipped on a sweatshirt and shoes before venturing off into the dark night.

You warily watched your surroundings as you made your way down the multiple streets towards the convenience store, knowing that someone who Peter would usually go after on a night like this could be lurking around you.

Your nerves stayed on edge until you reached the store with the glowing “Open 24/7″ sign on the door. You allowed yourself to calm down as you walked inside, murmuring a small ‘hello’ to the half-asleep person at the counter who startled awake when the bell over the door rang. You calmly strolled the aisles, looking for the coffee, not in a rush so you could try to waste the time until Peter would be done with his crime-fighting for the night.

When you finally found the aisle with the multiple brands of coffee, you grabbed the bag you always bought and made your way to the counter. The employee only looked mildly annoyed that you had woken him from his nap, but you chose to ignore his slight glare as you reached into your sweatshirt pocket to fish out the ten dollar bill you had grabbed before leaving the house.  

You pulled it out and handed it over to him, and your hand was still in mid-air when you heard a loud screech outside of the store. Both yours and the employee’s heads turned towards the front of the store to look through the large glass windows. The sight in front of the store made you gasp, and the money in your hand fell to the ground beneath you. 

Two cars sped through the street coming towards the convenience store, and behind them, was Spiderman. He swung from buildings, trying to catch up to the fast-paced cars. He reached the one closest to him and knocked the driver out, but the car lost control without anyone operating it and slammed into the first car. The cars neared closer and closer to the convenience store as the shock of the second car slamming into the first one registered onto the first driver’s face. The surprise distracted him, causing him to turn around and look at the damage, but he didn’t have enough time to turn before the convenience store doors were right in front of his face. 

Spiderman was behind them, trying to web the car backwards before it could make impact, but it was too late. 

You watched as the cars neared closer, and you tried to run to the other side of the store so you wouldn’t be in the direct line of damage, but it seemed as though it happened in seconds.

The cars were too quick, and you watched them smash through the storefront and into the first three aisles of the store. You were in the fourth aisle. The impact caused a domino effect, each aisle falling backwards onto each other, and the third falling onto you. You fell to the ground, yelping as you slammed to the ground and felt an immediate, painful weight on top of your back. 

You began to panic when you tried to move but couldn’t budge. You tried to lift yourself up, but the weight of two aisles-worth of shelves on top of you was too much for your strength. The panic led to fear, and the fear led to tears forming in your eyes as you still struggled to move. 

“Help!” You yelled, beginning to sob when you heard nothing in response. You were sure the boy at the counter had escaped through the back door. You were all alone.

“Help!” You screamed louder, hoping for someone to hear you. You knew Peter wouldn’t just leave something like this as his duty as Spiderman. He would have to come in and see if anyone was hurt. He would have to.

“Help, please,” you said, the volume in your voice lowering as your sobs overwhelmed you. “Peter,” you cried even harder, waiting for him to come and save you. “Peter, please,” you began to hyperventilate as the thought of being trapped under here for a prolonged period of time entered your mind.

You sobbed and cried and yelled for who knows how long until you heard his voice. “Hello? Is anyone in here? Hello?” He sounded panicked as well, and you were sure he had heard the loud sobbing from inside the store with the enhanced hearing his suit gave him.

“Peter!” You sobbed loudly, and you were met with silence for a few moments, until you heard a soft, “(Y/N)?”

“Peter,” you replied, still sobbing, but you began to feel relief after hearing his voice. “Peter, help me. Please.”

You heard him rustle around, trying to find the source of your voice. “I’m coming, (Y/N), it’s okay. I’m right here.”

You continued to cry until you heard him come closer to you. “I’m gonna lift this up now, okay?” He said with a calm voice, though you were sure you could hear some panicked undertones mixed in.

“Okay,” you said, voice shaking and cracking. When you felt your back be relieved of the weight, you expected to be relieved of pain along with it. You were wrong. If anything, the pain was worse without the heavy weight to distract you from it, and you cried out as various spots in your back began to throb with pain.

“Are you okay?!” Peter asked, the panic more evident in his voice. 

“It hurts,” you cried, moving your sore arm to hold your back now that it wasn’t trapped down anymore. You heard a loud crash and looked up to see Peter had pushed the two aisles to the opposite direction. He knelt down next to you, and although you couldn’t see his facial expression through the mask, you could tell by his shaky breathing that he was worried.

“I’m gonna try to pick you up now, just stay still for me,” he whispered and wrapped one arms around your legs. He wrapped the other around your back, and you cried out again, but he didn’t move his arm. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he whispered, the panic in his voice now replaced with heavy guilt. He stood up with you in his arms, and the movement made the pain in your back even worse, but you bit your lip to try to silence the whimpers. You continued to cry. “It’s okay, you’re okay. I’m right here, (Y/N),” he whispered to you, but you kept on crying. 

“(Y/N), (Y/N), look at me for a second,” he said, and you looked up at him to see him pulling up the mask to his forehead. “I’ve got you, okay? I’m right here with you. Now stop crying,” he began to whisper, and he pressed his forehead against yours. This was the closest you had ever been to him, and it served as a good distraction. Your tears began to stop. “Just hold onto me, okay?” 

You hummed a quiet “mhm”, and Peter pulled his forehead away from where it was resting against yours. He pushed his mask back over his face, and as he ran out of the store, you looked at the damage behind you. You noticed both of the men webbed inside of their respective cars, one conscious and one not, with a note on the first car. You couldn’t bring it in yourself to try to read it. 

Peter adjusted his grip on you to only one arm wound tightly around your waist as he used the other to swing from building to building quickly. You buried your head in the crook of his neck, not wanting to see the distance between the two of you and the ground. You kept your head tucked into his neck, and when you felt him softly land on ground, you looked up to be met with your bedroom.

Peter gently set you down on your bed, and you winced when his arm grazed your back as he set you down. He turned around, ripping his mask off his face and throwing it onto your desk. He turned on your lamp and closed your bedroom door. He leaned his head against the door, his back facing you, breathing heavily. He stayed that way for a few minutes, and although it may have been silent to him, your heartbeat in your ears was beating too loudly for you to have realized he began to speak.

He had turned around and was now looking at you with furrowed eyebrows and watery eyes. You turned your head toward him. “Did you say something?”

“Turn on your stomach,” he said, walking to your bedside. You followed his words, grimacing as you turned around. You breathed heavily, clenching your teeth to not make any noises that showed your pain. “Can I lift your shirt up a little bit?” He asked, and when you nodded, you felt his hands lift your sweatshirt up a small amount. You suddenly felt nervous, and your bedroom felt all too small for only the two of you. 

Peter breathed out heavily from behind you and you turned your head to look at him. You saw the guilt evident on his face. “I’m so sorry, (Y/N),” he whispered, clearly trying not to cry. “This is all my fault.”

“Take a picture of it, I want to see it,” you said, handing him your phone from your sweatshirt pocket. You noticed it was now slightly cracked, and you sighed, knowing it was from the impact of falling to the ground. He took it from you, taking the picture and handing it back to you.

You gasped when you saw the image on the screen. Your back was covered in small cuts everywhere, and the entirety of it was already starting to become purple. You sighed, turning around again and wincing. “It’s not your fault, Peter.”

He shook his head, opening his mouth to speak, but he closed it when you took his hand in yours. You tugged his arm towards you, signaling that you wanted him to get into bed next to you. He let go of your hand and turned your lap off before stealthily crawling over you without touching you. He laid down beside you. You turned on your side to lay your head on his chest, and he wrapped his arm around your shoulders when you did so. 

You didn’t care that this was probably crossing every boundary you had set in your mind about him, but you didn’t care. You needed the comfort right now.

“Thank you for saving me, Peter,” you whispered into the darkness. You heard him sniffle from above you, and you wiped at your cheeks to get rid of the stains of dried tears.

“I’m sorry this happened to you,” he whispered in reply. “I never wanted me being Spiderman to harm you in any way. This happened because of me.”

“No, it didn’t,” you said in return, slapping him lightly on the chest to try to make light of the situation. He didn’t laugh, and you sighed. “You were trying to get dangerous people off the street. And you succeeded, you caught them. It just took a slightly wrong turn. But everyone is okay.”

“You got hurt,” his voice cracked and he turned his head away from you to face the wall. 

“I’m okay, Pete,” you whispered, lifting your head up and lightly turning his head towards yours with your hand. “You were the one who got me out of there. You saved me, okay?”

He sniffled again, a tear falling down his cheek. You wiped it away.

“Why are you crying?” You were still whispering, and the two of you still stared into each other’s eyes.

“I don’t like seeing you hurt,” he said, and looked down to avoid your eyes. You thought you could see a light blush on his cheeks, but it was too dark to tell. “Hearing you cry and yell my name like that, it just- I don’t like seeing you hurt.”

“Peter,” you said, slightly louder. He looked back up at you. “It’s just some bruises. They’ll go away.”

“Yeah,” he said, nodding, trying to convince himself. “Yeah, you’re right.” 

He looked away again, clenching his jaw to prevent himself from crying anymore. You rested your head back on his chest, listening to his heartbeat through the suit. The two of you laid there in silence, resting, and as you began to feel yourself doze off in his arms, he moved from under you. He began to take his arm away from around your shoulders, and you were wide awake instantly. 

“Where are you going?” You asked groggily, pressing a hand down on his chest to keep him from moving. You couldn’t see him in the darkness, but you were sure he was bewildered. 

“I, uh, I was gonna head back home,” Peter whispered.

You moved your hand up to his shoulder, grasping it lightly. “Not yet. Please just stay a little longer,” you whispered in response. “Please.” You could see him nodding back.

“Okay,” he said softly, wrapping his arm back around your shoulders and resting his head back on the pillows. 

“Okay,” you said, resting your head on his chest again. You dozed back off, and the last thing you could remember was Peter pressing a kiss to your forehead and whispering, “Goodnight.”

When you woke up in the morning, he was still next to you.

*************************
Alright guys, I’m not going to lie. I really like how this one turned out. I’d love to know what you guys think about it. Feel free to also let me know if you’d want another part :) Requests are open!!

~e

Tell men their struggles are important.
Tell men they can cry and stop making it about misogyny.
Tell men they should speak out if sexually assaulted/raped.
Tell men you stand by them.
Stop telling men that they do not suffer simply based on their gender.
Stop telling men that “toxic masculinity” is born out of the stereotype of emotional women.
Stop telling men they can’t be raped.
Stop telling men they need a certain movement that was never meant for them.

Aliens and Autism

But aliens learning about autistic people and being confused by our behavior !

“But why don’t you treat them equally as well?”

“No, we totally do!” The human, Lorie by name, looked hurt and confused.

‘Todd’ (their name was very very long but they liked this English human name) shook their head. “No, you don’t. You treat them like they aren’t as marvelous as the rest of your species. One said they were made to feel ‘broken’ when we spoke. That is not good.”

Lorie reeled. “I… I thought we had started doing better. Accommodating their illness.”

“Illness?” Todd was confused now. “But they are not ill. They are not made to the same neurological specifications as what your medicine defines as nominal for your species, but they are as exceptional and unique as your entire species amongst us. Your species seems to have an exceedingly arbitrary limit to how much a person may be ‘eccentric’ before you shun them.”

Lorie’s cheeks heated. “I’m ashamed, but they make us uncomfortable.

“But you tolerate Bill, and he is obnoxious, makes unwanted references to mating, and prioritizes physical contact over others comfort. He just received a promotion. Does he not make you uncomfortable?”

The human tech couldn’t meet the Yotruvan’s eyes. “I suppose you need a mirror to see your own face. Thanks, Todd.” She smiled but Todd did not think she was happy, and he was confused.

Days later, Potre pulled Todd aside. “Hey, Todd?” The Yotruvan remembered not to look this human in the eye and kept the amount of space they were comfortable with.

“Yes, Potre?”

“Did you talk to the other humans? About me. Me, I mean.”

Todd could not judge their emotional state by their voice, but their posture seemed to express fear and hope, an odd combination. Yotruvans expressed little in tone or facial expressions but their amorphous body made them excellent at displaying and reading body language. “I asked why they treated autistic members of your species poorly.”

“Oh. Thanks.” Potre made a small movement and Todd nodded, acknowledging their gratitude and friendship. Potre walked down the hall and Todd was left again wondering at how often humans would thank others and never explain what they meant.

Remarkable species. Always surprising.

Submitted by: @katjohnadams

he held me, thinks sherlock, looking at john across the pillows in some kind of wonderment. john’s fringe is growing long again. his eyelashes lay blue-violet shadows on his cheeks. he’s been asleep now for the better part of half an hour. is that the word for it? that’s how it felt, i think. like being. protected, even though there’s no danger here. like he was gathering me up with all my pieces, keeping me together. 

does he know that’s what he did? held me, i mean. that way. 

john snuffles in his sleep, rubbing his cheek along the pillowcase almost in response. he had been fiercely respectful of sherlock’s privacy since moving back in, as though castigating himself at every near-cross of a boundary, and it had made his movements around the flat stilted and unsure, like every time he went to put a foot down, he had to first draw it back and double-check that he was allowed. you’re allowed, sherlock had told him, just that morning. whatever you’re worried about doing or not doing - you’re allowed. 

maybe, john had responded, quite easily, as if he’d been expecting sherlock to do it, but that still doesn’t mean i should. 

but then, the realisation, passing between them like an electrical current, the closed circuit of knowing flowing between them as visibly as lightning, had stopped them both where they stood. and sherlock had said, you know i want you to, then. 

yes, john had said, very, very quietly, i think so. you know why i’m hesitating, too.

sherlock had looked at him for a long minute, not deducing, not deciding. just seeing. yes. you’re afraid.

john had laughed. laughed, actually. aren’t you? 

petrified, which was true, but i think you should do it anyway, which was less true, in fact, but still worth saying. sherlock hoped he’d always say the things worth saying. he doubted he would, or that he even could, but it was a good thing to hope for, he thought. 

and so john had stepped forward. breathed. slipped one hand around the back of sherlock’s elbow, steadying him. had, so so slowly, so so softly, leaned in and brushed his mouth across sherlock’s. not a kiss - not really. that had come after. it was john, going to put a foot down and drawing back, double-checking that he was allowed. you’re allowed, sherlock had repeated, breathing against his cheek. i - i want you to. 

i - i want you to, too, john had said, more like a gasp than anything, like the strength of that admission had to be wrenched forward from somewhere he’d been keeping secret, i want you to be allowed, too. 

which had lead them here, to john’s sleepy heartbeat wearing into sherlock’s sheets and john’s hand on the coverlet, fingers curled in easy relaxation, those same fingers that had clutched and smoothed and held, and held, and held, and even though the fingers were there, now, on the coverlet instead of on sherlock’s hips and shoulders and neck and jaw and ribs and thighs and hands, there was the distinct sense of not having been let go. 

sherlock, john whispers, not opening his eyes. his fingers turn, reach, find, clasp. sherlock thinks his heart is going to burst right out of his wrist where it beats against john’s palm. you all right? 

yes, sherlock whispers back. did you know you held me?

john’s smile, lazy in the dark. sherlock wants to trace it with a fingertip. he thinks, probably, he’d be allowed to do that, if he tried, but it can wait until morning. was that okay? 

he shrugs. the covers shift. john’s thumb swipes back and forth across the smooth skin of his arm. i think so. i just. didn’t know if you knew. that that’s what that was, i think. 

it was, john confirms. the smile doesn’t fade. he tugs on sherlock’s wrist, gently, encouragingly. come here, and i’ll do it again, if you like.

sherlock inches forward, and john raises an arm to welcome him in until his head settles on john’s chest, with one arm draped over his back. he can hear the steady-slow thump of john’s heart. he can feel the smooth-shallow rise of john’s belly under his hand. i like holding you, sherlock, he says, rumbling and gruff through sleep and the saying of something that is difficult and daring to say, i’d like to keep doing it, if that’s okay. 

okay, sherlock says, and it is.

So we’re getting new kh3 info soon & I decided to use that as a deadline for /finally/ finishing my kairi design.  I’m really excited about it and I’m never telling anyone just how long I’ve been trying to finalize a design for her

So here it is!!! Keyblade wielder in training kairi!!!!

After sora’s new look got released I really, really wanted kairi to have something similar; sportsy, made for movement, more ‘mature’, & with influence from her nobody.  But (hopefully) kh3 is going to be where kairi takes on an entirely new role in her narrative, finally being able to join the fray, & I thought she should have something that fit that idea as well.  

I kept those things in mind while working on this & did my best to still give her a design that fits her personality, previous designs & role in the story (and also one that fixed the disaster zone color scheme from kh2 because my God).

She’s become a very important character to me & she deserves to finally be a genuine part of the kh story.  I’ve been wanting that for her for ages, so here’s to hoping. Anyways I’m really excited about this! I love kairi!! hooray!!

(I put optional cat ears from the official art in there as well, they’re cute haha)

13 Reasons Why (Tape 1)

Characters: Dean, sister!reader, Mary, Sam, John

Warnings: mention of death, angst, swearing

Word count: 4139

Summary: Dean listens to the first tape that you left after you died. He learns about the rules he has to follow with them, and who the first cause of your decision was.

A/N: italics are flashbacks to the events before your death

Series: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

Dean woke up around 5am on Monday morning. It had been three months since you, his 18 year old sister, had decided to take your own life. Him and Sam never got a note, you were just gone and that was all they knew. They were too late to save you and that bothered him. Every morning since that day he woke up at 5am. He realised there was no going back to sleep so he climbed out of bed and headed to the door. When he opened the door he was surprised to be greeted with a small box in front of his feet. Dean looked left and right and noticed Sam wasn’t around to have just placed the box there. He sighed, picked it up, shut his door and walked back to his bed.

As he opened up the box he was confused as he noticed that all was inside were tapes. Why would someone give him a box of tapes? Dean rummaged through the box on his shelf and found his old tape player that John had given him when he was a kid and wanted to listen to AC/DC. He put the first mysterious tape inside the player and pressed play.

“Hello,” the familiar voice that he hadn’t heard for three months spoke which almost hurt his ears to know that he could hear in tape form. He must have been mistaken… It couldn’t be!

“My name is Y/N Winchester,” your tape continued. “I’m about to tell you the story of my life. More specifically, why my life ended… And if you’re listening to this tape,” The tape paused for a moment and Dean waited in suspense. “You’re one of the reasons why.”

He pulled the headphones off his head and sat there for a moment. He couldn’t believe the voice or words he was hearing. How could this be real? How could he really be hearing it? Having to listen to the voice of his deceased sister was hard for him, but the only way to find out more was listening to the tapes… So he continued. It wasn’t a fast decision, he took a breath and thought about just throwing them away. But then he would never know the reason why. This was like your suicide note, only in the form of 13 tapes.

His shaky hands picked up the headphones and placed them carefully on his head. He pressed play on the tape player and continued to listen. “As there are to every story, there are 13 different sides to this. I’m going to tell you all of them. Each tape is based on one of the people that are the reason my life ended. So, once you’ve listened to all the tapes you need to pass these on to the next person. If you don’t, well, just know that someone is always watching every single one of you and will make sure that all the tapes are listened to by every person. Now that you understand.. Let me begin with my first tape.”

Dean closed his eyes and followed the story you were telling. “First up, we have the thing that started it all… It was a normal day for you maybe, but not me at all. I didn’t know about hunting or any of that, not until you told me. I went to find you after mom had said she saw you earlier that day, I thought maybe it would be a chance for me to meet my father for the first time. Incase you hadn’t figured it out by now, we have our first person of the story. Welcome to your tape, John.”

Dean realised that John could have been the one these tapes outside of Dean’s room. He almost forgot that both of his parents now lived in the bunker with him and Sam. John must have listened to the tapes before him. Or maybe it was Mary? Since you died they both acted weirdly around both the boys, but then again, Mary acted strangely around you anyway so maybe she had something to do with all of this. He didn’t have time to think as the tape continued to play and tell Dean the story of what happened to you.

* * *

You were a nervous wreck ever since you joined your father and his two sons. Your mom insisted on you moving in with John so that you could bond and get to know your father after all those years of wishing you knew him. You knew it wouldn’t be easy meeting him when the day came, but you never expected it to be that hard.

He told you all about hunting and all his excuses of why he left you and your mother. They were stupid and you hated listening to him explaining, you needed someone to take your anger out on and that person was John. You needed to scream and shout at him every now and then for small things just so you could release some of the pain that he made you feel for most of your life.

But that shit didn’t fly with John, you either did as he said or you were gone. “It’s my way or the highway,” you recalled him saying to you a few times after your arguments. Sam and Dean didn’t live with John really, it was more like John lived with them, along with Mary Winchester. They owned this thing called the Men Of Letters Bunker. The place was huge, so many bedrooms you couldn’t count, you could have sworn you found a new room there everyday.

Before John moved in here, him and his wife (who was also the two boy’s mother) had come back to life after so many years. They didn’t fit into the word exactly so they relied on hunting as what kept them grounded. Sam, Dean, John, Mary and you. That’s how it was. Of course, being the youngest meant that you had to follow everyone’s rules and it was for your own ‘safety.’

* * *

“For my own safety? That was complete bullshit,” you spoke smoothly through Dean’s headphones. “You just wanted someone to boss around, dad. You couldn’t control Sam and Dean anymore, so you made sure that you could completely control me. Before that I didn’t have anyone controlling me, I could do what I wanted and act however I thought was right for me. You took that from me… That’s where it all started going down hill, it’s where I started to break.”

Dean once again paused the tape. He checked his nightstand and saw that it was now 6am. How had time moved so quickly? How long had it taken him to listen to this short part of the tape? He knew he had taken it out at the beginning because it was too hard to listen to, but he never knew he was stalling for so long.

A break from this right now seemed appropriate. So, he took the headset off, left it on his bed and headed to the kitchen to get something to eat. Every step he took felt heavier than the last. This wasn’t something new, it had been happening ever since you took your life, but now it was hitting him harder. It made every movement more painful than they had been before; he didn’t even know that was possible until now.

Once he reached the kitchen, he was pleasantly surprised to see that Mary, John and Sam were already there and eating breakfast. Sam was still at the stove, finishing up cooking some eggs and the rest of the bacon while John and Mary sat opposite each other and ate what they already had. “Dean,” John said by surprise. “You’re up later than usual.”

“It’s 6am,” Dean replied with a gravelly voice that he always had when he was tired. Lately, it seemed to be the only voice he had.

“You’re usually up at around 5,” John noted. Sam came and sat down next to Mary at the table and placed a plate down for himself and for Dean.

“You hungry?” Sam asked and Dean joined them at the table. “How you holding up?”

“I feel… Different to what I have for the last few months,” Dean replied to his little brother. “You know, I actually woke up at 5am again today. I stayed in my room because I found something left outside my door.”

All of their eyes widened as Dean spoke. They looked at each other before John spoke. “So she finally finished listening to them.”

“What? Who?” Dean questioned as he squeezed his fork tightly in his hand.

“We can’t talk about this,” Mary recalled before picking up a piece of bacon from her plate and eating it.

“You can’t do that to me! Who are you talking about?!” Dean demanded as he threw his fork down.

“The last person that had the tapes,” John told him which earned a glance from Mary and Sam.

“The tapes… You’ve all listened to them?” Dean looked around at them all. They were faces of the people he knew, they were his family. But they all felt so unfamiliar, like strangers with secrets.

“We can’t talk about it, you need to listen to the tapes,” Sam finished before taking his plate over to the trash can and throwing his food away.

“Are any of you on there? Who is the ‘she’ that you’re talking about? Is it someone else on the tapes?” Dean asked quickly, not giving them time to answer any of them as he continued. “Are you all on the tapes?”

“Dean, we can’t,” Mary snapped. “You have to just listen to the tapes, everyone on there had to.”

He stood up and made his way to the exit of the kitchen but stopped in his tracks.

“It’s hard to listen to,” Dean admitted with a sad voice. He stood in the door way as he spoke to them. “It’s the voice of my dead sister.”

“Dean!” John hissed. He looked at his son standing in there, he looked so heartbroken and vulnerable. “Please son, just listen to the tapes.”

Dean glared at them all. If looks could kill, they would all be dead in a second. He stormed off and went back to his room, it turned out he didn’t get any food or a drink to soothe his feelings of anxiety right now. He returned in the same state he was in before. Dean placed the headset back on his ears and continued to listen to John’s tape.

“But that wasn’t all, was it dad?” You questioned rhetorically. “No, you did more than just boss me around. When you realised you couldn’t do it anymore, you did the only thing that you thought you could do to end the lack of control…”

* * *

It was a few months after you had moved into the bunker and began your training to become a hunter. It wasn’t the physical side of it all because you already knew how to fight after your countless years of being bullied at school. That’s why the boys and your dad were so okay with you going hunting with them; they knew you could take care of yourself.

It was the research of it all. You weren’t used to connecting the dots with how certain monsters acted or what they did with how the victims had died. You gradually became better at it, but you weren’t as good as your brothers because they grew up doing it. You knew that. You understood that.

John didn’t seem to though. All he did was compared you to Sam and Dean and demanded that you become a smarter person. That wasn’t something you could just do, you can’t just snap your fingers one day and get what you want. You have to work for shit like that, it takes time and patience… But those were two things that John lacked.

It was that one day in the motel you were all staying in. The report in the paper said that the bystanders smelled sulphur after the woman was attacked. That was easy enough to figure out, right? Wrong. You weren’t trained enough in the mythology of monsters and you had no idea that sulphur was a sign of demons. You read past it and said there was nothing in there that could have been your kind of thing.

John insisted that you had missed something, just like he always did. You hated when you had to look for cases in the paper. Either you would misjudge it and say you had found a case or you would read past it too quickly and not realise that there was your kind of thing going on. No. You never got it right, so John always checked.

He held the paper in his hand as he sat opposite you at the small table in the motel. You watched nervously as his eyes scanned over the front page and read about the current murder spree going around. “Jesus Christ,” he groaned as he slammed the paper down on the table. “You’re kidding me right, Y/N? You don’t see a case here?”

“Uh, no, sir,” you replied shakily. Sam and Dean noticed your worry from where they were sitting on the beds. Mary was currently out on a supply run.

“It says here the by passers could smell sulphur,” John stated as he looked over at his sons.

“So what are we thinking, a demon?” Dean asked while he continued to clean his gun.

John clicked his tongue and Dean’s answer as if it was obvious. “Exactly… A demon.”

“A demon?” You questioned as you looked between all of them.

“The smell of sulphur is an instant alert for a demon,” Sam told you with a smile. He didn’t mind teaching you, he actually enjoyed it. He liked passing on his knowledge with you and helping you become a better hunter. He had patience… John didn’t.

“Yeah,” John snapped. “Every hunter should know that.”

You hated when he got like this because you instantly knew it was a dig at you and you were tired of it. The boys saw nothing of it because they didn’t pay enough attention. That’s why they thought you were in the wrong when you snapped back.

“Well, I’m still new at this so you can’t expect me to know everything,” you hissed which got John’s back up. You were glad it pissed him off, it was time that he took you seriously.

“You do not speak to your father like that!” He shouted as he stood from his chair and pushed it back aggressively.

You stood up too so you could regain dominance in the conversation. “What kind of father are you? I barely even know you!”

“This isn’t about me,” he replied with a steady tone.

“Yes it is!” You screamed. “This is about you… This is about what you didn’t do. You weren’t there because you were too busy hunting with your other family. And yes, I know that you died when I was a kid, but even when you came back to life you didn’t bother looking for me.”

“I thought we were past this,” he growled with flared nostrils.

“We are. We are past this,” you lied. You weren’t over it, but you had to pretend you were for the sake of everyone else. “I’m not reminding you about it because I’m hurt, I’m reminding you because you need to understand my point of view. I’m not good at researching cases with you because I was never here for it. And you’re not good at being a father to me because you were never there.”

When you finished your statement it was as if the world stopped for a minute. You came to terms with what you had said and realised that you meant it; John wasn’t as accepting towards the statement as you were. The boys both gasped as they saw John’s hand being drawn back.

Before you could react to his movement, John’s hand made harsh contact with your cheek. It was enough force that if pushed you to the floor. You breathed heavily as you stood up; you were holding your hand against your cheek in disbelief.

“You asshole!” You growled as your stood on your feet. “You fucking asshole!”

“What the hell is going on?” Mary demanded as she walked through the door. “Y/N? What happened to your face?”

“It was dad! He slapped me!” You screamed. “You’re a dick, how could you?!”

“Dad, you crossed the line,” Sam said. “You don’t hit your kids.”

“Things just got out of hand,” Dean insisted. “They should never have gone this far, you need to talk about this and sort it out because this shit has been going on for too long. All you do is argue with each other over the smallest things.”

“Dean! He hit her!” Sam defended as he stood up in annoyance.

“We’ve all hit each other! Hell, we’ve tried to kill each other before,” Dean recalled. You couldn’t believe Dean would actually try and defend his father, you thought he had changed.

“Why are you defending him?!” You fumed.

“I’m not,” Dean said calmly. He put his arms up in defence as he continued to talk. “All I’m saying is we have all done terrible things to each other, our family is messed up. This is something that’s needs to be dealt with and then we move on.”

You scoffed at his words. John looked down at you the same way he always did, his eyes full of hatred and boiling with anger. “There’s nothing to talk about. I want you gone, Y/N.”

“But-”

“No!” John spat. “I want you gone, get the fuck out of here. Go back to living with your mom, the hunting life isn’t for everyone and you’re most definitely not meant to be a hunter.”

You couldn’t believe the words that were leaving his mouth. You looked at your brothers and saw that even they didn’t know what to say. You grabbed your things, threw them into a backpack and walked out like you weren’t even bothered. But of course you were. You were so desperate for one of them to follow you and beg you to come back… But no one ever did.

* * *

“You hit me in the face. It hurt. But not as much as it hurt when you hit me with rejection and hatred. You wanted me gone… I hated you, John, more than I had ever hated anyone. You felt the same way about me and I wasn’t going to stick around for that so I headed back to my moms.”

Dean once again removed the headphones and paused the tape. There wasn’t long left of this tape but it was so hard for him to listen to. He checked his clock on his nightstand once again and saw that it was now 1:35pm. Food. He needed food.

Another walk to the kitchen with pain in his steps led to a nervous feeling in his stomach. What John had done to you was so bad, what if Dean’s was worse? What if he had hurt you but had no idea that it had affected you so badly? Dean was pulled out of his thoughts when he saw his father sitting alone at the kitchen table and drinking a beer.

“Hey, son,” he said with a soft voice. “You doing ok?”

“I’m great,” Dean snapped. “I won’t talk to you and piss you off though, I don’t wanna get a beating.”

John sighed and rubbed his palm over his face. “You listened to my tape.”

“I haven’t finished it yet,” Dean shook his head. “It’s still hard to listen to.”

John didn’t reply to what Dean said, he just took another swig of his beer and stared at the wall. Dean went to the fridge and pulled out some left over bacon that was cooked that morning. He put the plate in front of him and his father at the table as he came and sat opposite him. “Stop staring at the wall and look at me,” Dean demanded. John looked at the disappointment in his sons eyes. “Feeling sorry for yourself won’t bring her back.”

Now he saw something in John that he had never let him see before. It was weakness. “I remember that day,” Dean continued. “I remember that I defended you when you hurt her because I was scared that what you did would make her leave. I was selfish and I wanted her to stay so I tried to justify what happened.”

“Son-”

“I’m not finished,” Dean snapped. “What you did drove her away from our family… The only reason she came back was because she had nowhere else to go after she went home and found her moms dead body. If you didn’t send her away she would never had seen that.”

“You don’t think I know that!” John shouted which caught Dean by surprise. He sighed as he realised his anger had once again got the better of him. “Dean-” his voice was steady and low, “-the reason I did that to her was to protect her.”

“You hit her to protect her?” Dean demanded.

“I pushed her away to protect her,” John said as tears began to form in his eyes. “Before I slapped her I kept snapping at her and being nasty to her because I wanted her to leave so she could be safe. I knew that if I told her that she wouldn’t leave, and no matter how many times I shouted at her or was a complete dick to her she would just get upset… But she would stay. I had to do something that would finally make her leave; I had to make her think that I hated her so that she would hate me. If she stayed with us she would have continued to hunt and I wanted better for her.”

John wiped his tears away before drinking more of his beer. It was as if he thought the alcohol would soothe the sting, but it only made it worse. “I loved my baby,” he cried. “She was my only daughter and she made me proud every day. I’ll never get a chance to tell her that.”

Dean shook his head. He understood why John did what he did and he sympathised with him, but it didn’t matter. That wouldn’t bring you back. It wouldn’t fix anything. “She’s dead because you were too scared to love her.”

Dean didn’t plan on saying it, it was just a thought that popped into his head but he needed to get it out. Secrets were one of the reasons you ended your life, he didn’t want to keep them anymore.

John had no idea how to respond to Dean. How could someone reply to that? He was one of the causes of his daughters death because he was a coward. Dean didn’t even know what to think anymore. He needed to know more. He had one more bite of the bacon before he put the plate back in the fridge and headed back to his room.

They were still there when he got back. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but he was hoping that the tapes weren’t real and that you were still there in the bunker. When you moved in you told him that you wanted your room next to his so you could knock on the wall if you wanted to talk to each other.

He picked the tape player up, it felt colder than when he last held it. A chill shot down his spine as he thought about the tapes again and how they were all you left behind. Your voice played again in his ears.

“After you kicked me out, dad, I went back for my mom. I ran in to my house, crying my eyes out because of what you did. I wanted comfort from my mom,” you explained. “She was all I needed right at that moment because in my whole life she was all I ever had. But I never got to speak to her… I went into her room and found her covered in blood. She didn’t move… Or breathe… She did nothing.”

Your voice broke as you spoke about your mothers death and Dean closed his eyes at the thought. “And this, ladies and gentlemen, brings me to my second tape. And you know who you are when I say that on my next tape, we’re going to talk about the person that murdered my mother.”

Tags ~

@jarpadobrien @thejulietfarciertlove @bluecookiesandbooks @little-miss-padfoot @thisnoticeisnotworthnoticing @catcherofdreams22 @fabulouslycassie@uchihababeee @lust-for-pan @weirdrandomunknownperson @you-didnt-see-that-cuming @thegreatficmaster @chloemwinchester

Kiwi, Though.

A/N: this is a bit of an extension of the birthday bows/valentine woes world, but certainly functions as a stand alone piece.  thank you for the request*, nonny 😘

this is a very, very smutty, dirty piece about anal so if that’s not your thing, turn back now. there’s a lot of movement in this, so please offer me a bit of suspension of disbelief and just know that harry and his missus did everything they needed to in order to be clean and safe in this encounter.

*requests are currently closed


He didn’t mean it. Really, he didn’t. Well, he did, but he didn’t. And he certainly didn’t mean it anymore. Not now. Not now that you were hanging it over his head and torturing him with it.

It had been just another nightly FaceTime before bed from miles and miles apart; well bedtime for you, the night had only just started in Jamaica. And it was just typical banter to hide the sour feeling due to return once you hung up. And it was just a sly comment to rile you up, get you excited to join him in Jamaica in a few days.

“Yeh not gonna be able to keep yeh hands off me, love.” And that would have been enough, but Harry often struggled when it came to shutting his big, stupid mouth. “Not even if yeh wanted.”

Your eyes went wide in surprise, mouth ajar with incredulity. “Excuse me?” you scoffed. “I can keep my hands to myself much better than you can, H.”

“Right.” A cocky smirk crossed his lips. “Always got yeh hands all over me, kitten, ’specially when we’re reunited. S’never enough with you. Keep me up all night–satisfy your every need–but then yeh right back on me in the mornin’. Insatiable, you are.”

“If I’m insatiable, what’s that make you?!” Sure, he was right; you liked a few sleepless nights upon reunion, enjoyed testing the limits of your bodies, but it’s not like he protested. It’s not like he didn’t want to explore your body, relearn your inner workings mind, body and soul and try a few new things, too.

“Sex slave. At your every beck and call, kitten.” He was pleased with himself, grinning ear-to-ear as he teased you.

Keep reading

Mind Bending

Shiro and Lance had been taken by surprise while on a diplomatic mission.
They hadn’t expected any problems on what was meant to be a peaceful planet, so they were dressed in their casual clothing.
Without their weapons or armour the two Paladins were captured by the waiting Galra without much resistance.
——————————-
Hours later Lance woke up chained to the wall with dried blood plastered to the side of his face.
Judging from how his vision swam and the intense pain behind his eyes, it was a safe bet that he had a concussion.
Lance vaguely registered someone calling his name, but it sounded like they were talking through water.

“Lance! Come on Kiddo.”
Lance looked up in the direction of the voice to see a black blob talking to him.
It took him a minuet to realise the blob must of been Shiro.
“Shiro?” Lance mumbled the movement causing his to moan in pain.
“Yeah bud I’m here. Do you remember where we are?” Shiro asked, he sounded panicked but Lance couldn’t figure out why.
“Castle?”
Shiro cursed softly under his breath. “No lance. Look we’ve been captured by the Galra. I don’t know if they got the rest of the team but I need you to try and stay awake. Ok bud?”
Lance didn’t know if he nodded or not. But he must of made some kind of movement because his head was spinning and dark spots were dancing across his vision.
“Hurts” Lance wimmpered.
“I know Bud… I’ll get you out of here I promise.”
Just then the cell door opened and two large Galra walked in.
Shiro instantly started thrashing about yelling at them.
Lance could tell that Shiro was trying to gain their attention. He was protecting him.
And Lance wasn’t going to let him do that.
Growing up Lance had always been flexible. If he hadn’t of gone to the Garrison he had always wanted to be a gymnast. It was like flying without a plane.
Even through his concussed haze Lance was able to remember how to dislocate his thumbs and pull them out of the cuffs.
Lance was sure it would hurt when he was a bit more coherent. Bit for now he had to save Shiro.
The Galra were so focused on the Black Paladin, that they didn’t notice Lance until after he grabbed the blaster from one and shot the other.
The other Galra turned and Lance fired again, however his vision was swimming so much that his aim was off and only grazed their shoulder.
The Galra grabbed Lance by the throats and slammed him against the wall causing Lance to cry out in pain.
He could see Shiro’s mouth moving. Maybe calling his name, maybe cursing the Galra that kept hitting Lance against the hard metal wall to get Lance to let go.
Lance knew he was losing consciousness.
It was so hard to keep his mind focused.
His eyes landed on the chains holding Shiro up.
He only had one chance.
Lance bent his arm until he could feel it almost popping out of his socket as he lined up the shot.
He took a breath in and out.
Then fired.
Lance didn’t know if he hit the chains.
But judging from how the Galra dropped him to the ground and the muffled sounds of fighting Shiro was free.
Lance felt his eyes droop closed as Shiro’s face came into focus.
“Lance! Lance please you have to stay awake!”
“S…orry” Lance mumbled as his eyes slid shut and he fell into the blissful abyss of unconsciousness.
——————————
Lance fell out of the healing pod into the waiting arms of Shiro.
“Hey Lance, how you feeling?” He asked looking him over concern clear on his face.
“Fine I guess… what happened?” Lance asked rubbing his head.
“We were captured by the Galra and you got a pretty nasty concussion.”
Lance winced in memory “oh yeah, how did we get out?”
Shiro smiled as he helped Lance sit down on the couch in the infirmary.
“It was all you, I didn’t think anyone could bend like that, let alone make that kind of a shot even without a concussion. You really are amazing…” Shiro blushed “and way more flexible then I ever hoped to imagine.”
Lance smirked “I would be happy to show you any time.” He winked and laughed as the leader of Voltron was left a spluttering blushing mess.

control. (m)

pairing: jimin x reader

genre: smut 

warnings: slight dom!jimin / fem!dom, blindfolds, restraints, breath play 

word count: 5,675

request: blindfolds + jimin

description: You may have gotten him blindfolded and tied up, but Jimin’s not going down without a fight.

“You know, when we bought this stuff I thought I was gonna be the one using it on you,” Jimin huffed, fidgeting beneath your grip as you tightened the restraints around his wrists.

“You’ll get your turn, selfish,” You teased from your straddled position across his thighs before shimmying your way up towards his chest. “Pull against the headboard. I wanna make sure they aren’t loose.” You tapped against his arms, and to your surprise he followed your directions almost instantly.

The ties kept his wrists perfectly reigned in above his head, and it filled you with a sense of glee for what was to come. You peered down, fully expecting to find a look of disdain adorning Jimin’s features due to the restrictive nature of his position, but what you were met with was the complete opposite.  

Keep reading

youtube

me in the club……this absolutely bangs…..

HEY LOOK

They brought back the EYE GLOW!!!

They added HIGHLIGHTS!!!!!!!

The FACIAL PROPORTIONS LOOK OK!!!

ALSO,

IS THAT SOME DECENT ANIMATION I’M SEEING??!!!!!1!1!

From nonnie:  Hi! Can you do a logan x reader fic where the reader has deep feelings for logan but they have this friends with benefits thing going on and she’s scared to tell him but one day after they bang he tells her he actually cares for her *feels everywhere* 

Word count: 1237

Originally posted by pleasingpics

~

“F-fuck Logan, don’t stop.” You sighed, the man on top of you thrust his hips in a languid motion, hitting right where you wanted him.

You wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him in closer. His hand was in your hair and he tugged hard, you moaned and reveled at the feeling of his lips and teeth against your neck and his beard scratching against your collarbone, and it felt so fucking good you almost screamed. Logan pounded you harder, you yelped at the feeling of his tip hitting that spot and he used his free hand to brush against your bundle of nerves, earning a throaty moan from your lips.

You raked your nails down his back as you sucked his bottom lip into your mouth, you bit down hard as he bottomed out inside you. You felt yourself come undone. “Yes-yes Logan, oh Logan, harder, please, I’m cumming-”

“That’s it- princess, oh yes, I’m fuckin’- I’m gonna cum, where do you want it?” Logan whispered against your lips.

His eyes were burning into you yours and you used your legs to pull him closer again as your pussy started to quiver around him, silently answering his question. You moaned into his kiss as he spilled himself inside you and he smothered his face into your neck and growled as he rode out his orgasm, still deftly swiping his fingers over your clit, drawing another screaming orgasm from you.

He slumped next to you as you both came down, automatically pulling you to lay on his chest.

~

This had been going on for about 3 months, you and Logan became friends with benefits after he came back from a mission, covered in blood, some of his own, some of his enemies. His clothes were ripped to shreds and although he didn’t need any medical attention, he let you help him anyway.

But things don’t always go as planned, things change and so do people, including you.

After a whole night of non-stop, unbridled sex, and everything that leads up to it, you had fallen asleep curled against Logan’s vigorous body once again, every inch of him stuck to you like velcro.

You had woken the next morning to Logan’s face smushed against the space between your neck and collarbone, his snores rumbled through his body and the vibrations tickled your skin and you giggled lightly.

You had taken a moment to admire his sleeping form; his hand had absent-mindedly cupped your breast in his sleep and the other winded behind your back, you had draped your arms around his broad shoulders. The way your bodies were tangled made you look like tangled vines, your leg was hiked up over his hip and his legs were between and underneath yours.

You felt complete, you were caught in pure bliss, but you just wish you didn’t have to hide.

Hm, Y/N.” Logan mumbled in his sleep, that’s when you knew you were in love with the man wedged against you. And you didn’t know what else to do apart from close your eyes, letting the smell of smoke and sandalwood engulf your nostrils.

~

You had taken a night to yourself, you walked around the grounds of the school without telling anyone where you had gone, seeking a silence the inside walls couldn’t give you. You were becoming afraid of your feelings towards Logan, there was no way he would return them, and you were contemplating on shutting whatever it was between you down.

When you arrived back into your assigned room, you were shoved against the shut door by a strong pair of familiar hands.

“Logan! What the fuck are you doing?! And why are you in my room? I thought we were keeping this whole… thing… low-key?” Your chest heaved as you tried to get your breathing even again, looking up at his darkened eyes.

“Next time you go for a fuckin’ walk, TELL SOMEBODY!” You flinched at his growing volume. “You know that we don’t have some magical barrier around this place- god, whatever, it doesn’t matter.”

He went to open the door but you stopped him, grabbing his wrist, your fingers didn’t even manage to wrap around it fully, he was so… big. His arm went limp against your touch, and you trailed your fingers up to his jaw, stroking the scruff that was there.

Kiss me.” It was more a plea than a demand, and you couldn’t meet his eyes as you let the words roll off your tongue.

Logan then proceeded to pin you against the door again, but this time he was gentle as ever, treating you like a porcelain doll in his calloused hands. You wracked your brain to try and remember when the last time he was this tender with you, and you lost yourself in his touch.

He stooped and caught your soft thighs, wrapping them around his hips and leading you to your bed. His lips were timid and soft against your own, he wrapped his hand around the back of your neck with the same gentleness, easing you back onto the mattress as his body hovered over yours.

The kiss was light, there was no teeth, and only a slight amount of tongue and you sighed as you broke apart. You slowly peeled one another’s clothing off, moving like waves, for the first time you felt nervous, and you could feel his body language shift.

When you were both bare to each other, Logan peppered lazy open-mouthed kisses from your lips to your breasts and you arched your back as you felt two familiar fingers enter you at a mind-boggling pace. His slow, teasing movements made you gasp and writhe against his fingers. You reached for him and started stroking his cock at the same pace as he was stroking you, earning a small moan that vibrated against your lips.

As he pushed into you, you felt whole, and not like the usual way; you felt your chest swell and your fingertips tingle with electricity as he slowly thrust inside you. It was the first time you hadn’t cried out or groaned in lust and it was warm and fuzzy, your body wasn’t covered in sweat, and you started to rock against him, but he held your hips in place.

“Listen I…I love you, Y/N, ever since you woke up that morning and let me stay, you didn’t tell me to wake up or get out like I would do occasionally do to you because you were snoring, ” You giggled at his words,  "You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve met, nobody compares.“ You breathed a sigh of relief as he confessed.

"I love you too, Logan.” You kissed him deeply as he started moving again, a few moments later the tension behind your naval snapped and you came undone around him, and he stumbled down right after you.

It was going to be difficult, but you were anticipating the ride.

Metempsychosis, 1.

Pairing: Park Jimin / Reader

Genre: Immortal!AU, Reincarnation!AU + Slight Soulmate!AU / Fluff, Angst + Smut

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: None

Summary: Being everlasting certainly has its perks, but loving someone who does not have that privilege and reborn continually is not one of them.

Count: 2838 words.

Note: Thank you, @dimplecoups, for being in my inner circle and reading it over. This will be a three part series, and is told in Jimin’s POV.

Metempsychosis

And yet by death did life procure.

Various of theories are justificatory weaved in regards to our existence—that we either originated from a spiritual entity or created by a grand phenomenon. In the circumstance of a unique individual, he was produced by both; stars run in his veins for he is the embodiment of the galaxies, ethereal in every way. An enigma, some would say, yet was he truly a complex being? For the span of four hundred years, he had witnessed all that history could offer, but there was an uncomplicated reason for his melancholy: where was his moon? Where was his sun and stars, the one who was his celestial beloved? Surely, he was not meant to roam alone.

Or was he?

Keep reading

Mr. Min - Chapter 01

Description:  Your CEO caught your attention the first day you started your new job and it seems the attraction is mutual.  Too bad he’s only interested in a relationship that benefits him.

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 8641

Warning: Dom!Yoongi, light breath play, cum play, punishment, demeaning names

A/N: I ended up having to split this chapter in two because it was getting so long.  I hope you enjoy it anyways!

Prologue - Ch 02 - Ch 03 - Ch 04 - Ch 05 - Ch 06

Keep reading