no tilting no hair in the face

anonymous asked:

more goshiki please, i have needs

Suguru stepped into Tsutomu’s room and watched as his captive knelt in the middle of the floor, hands behind his back and eager gaze fixed on Suguru. Suguru felt a smirk tug at his lips as he crossed the room, Tsutomu’s attention never wavering. Suguru fit one finger against the bottom of Tsutomu’s chin and pressed upward, tilting his face up. Tsutomu shivered, fighting back his expectant wriggle. Suguru leaned over him to check the position of his hands, and found them in the same position Suguru had kept them tied in before he’d finally broken Tsutomu. Tsutomu’s body was just used to being in that position now.
Suguru brought his free hand up to comb through Tsutomu’s hair, and Tsutomu tilted his head, leaning into the touch, a soft sigh of contentment parting his lips. Suguru’s smirk grew, and his curled his fingers into a fist, clutching a handful of Tsutomu’s hair. A whimper escaped Tsutomu’s lips, and his eyes watered as Suguru used his grip to wrench Tsutomu’s head back.
“Have you been good, Tsutomu?” Suguru asked, twisting his hand. Tsutomu whined and craned his neck, trying to relieve the painful tension in his scalp.
“Yes,” he gasped. “I’ve been good, Suguru, I promise.” Suguru studied him for a moment, then released his hair and gently rubbed over the sore spot on Tsutomu’s head from his hair being pulled on. Tsutomu’s body relaxed at the soothing touch, and a little sound halfway between a sigh and a hum rose in his throat. Suguru stepped back, and Tsutomu let out a soft noise of protest. Suguru raised one eyebrow, and Tsutomu fell silent, suddenly aware of the recent scars on his thighs from the last time he’d tried to protest Suguru leaving him alone.
“Good,” Suguru praised, moving back until he was on the other side of the room. He sat, his back to the wall, his legs stretched out in front of him. “Come here,” he ordered, patting his thigh encouragingly. Tsutomu beamed and got to his feet, crossed the room, and sank down onto Suguru’s lap without moving his hands from their position behind his back, his knees on either side of Suguru’s hips. “You may speak, Tsutomu.”
“Please,” Tsutomu pleaded, wriggling on his lap, trying to get even closer. Tsutomu ducked his head and nuzzled Suguru’s jaw, not daring to go for what he wanted.
“Please what, Tsutomu?” Suguru prompted, settling his hands on Tsutomu’s hips possessively.
“Please kiss me,” Tsutomu begged, shivering as one of Suguru’s hands left Tsutomu’s hip and came up to cup the back of his neck instead, bringing his captive’s head down so Suguru could tease him, his breath tickling across Tsutomu’s lips, but not quite kissing him.
“Are you going to be good and not try to take more than I give you?” Suguru asked. Tsutomu whimpered, a full body shudder running down his spine in anticipation.
“Yes, Suguru, I promise I’ll be good!” Tsutomu insisted.
“You’d better. If you don’t, I’ll see how you like electric shocks, since you seem to be getting used to knives,” Suguru threatened. He didn’t give Tsutomu a chance to respond before he finally brought their mouths together, and Tsutomu melted in his hold.

Coming Soon - YoonMinSeok

Jimin wiggles between them. Hobie laughs loudly, but Yoongi startles a little. “Kiss me.” Jimin singsongs. Hobie attaches his lips to the unmarked skin of Jimin’s neck. Jimin tilts his head to face Yoongi. “Kiss me, hyung.” He whispers. Yoongi feels his heart race in his throat. Jimin cups his cheek and leans in a bit. Hobie leans along with him. Yoongi can hear Hobie’s deep breaths and the kisses he places against Jimin’s skin. It rouses him to action. He crashes his lips against Jimin’s and knotted a hand into the boy’s pink hair. Jimin moans softly. It causes butterflies to erupt in Yoongi’s stomach.
Yoongi’s tongue invades Jimin’s mouth and Jimin moans louder. But he moans too when Hobie nips at his neck. Yoongi likes that a lot too. Jimin’s moans are very arousing. Angelic, but at the same time very wanton. Yoongi kisses Jimin harder. Jimin kisses back greedily. Yoongi breaks the kiss for air. He gently tugs at Jimin’s hair, so the boy will tilt his head. Jimin whimpers softly, pleasured by the tugs on his pink hair. Yoongi smirks a gummy smirk and leans in to nip at Jimin’s wonderfully sculpted collar bone. Jimin moans louder. Yoongi sounds at the pleasure these sounds bring him. He feels he is growing hard.
His lips, wandering over Jimin’s throat, meet Hobie’s. They kiss slowly. Hobie moans softly. Yoongi groans in return. He is genuinely aroused now. He breaks away from Hobie, too soon for his taste. They exchange a look. Yoongi knows, from the look in Hobie’s eyes that he is feeling it too. They straighten out and both look at Jimin. Jimin has his eyes closed and his panting wildly. His skinny jeans strains around his erect cock. Yoongi’s eyes travel to Hobie’s crotch, he too is heart. “You two are so excited, aren’t you?” With that sentence, he takes control over the situation. He prefers being in control. Hobie knows, Jimin will get to know it. “Yes I am.” Hobie replies.

Vibrating Panties (Luke smut)

Summary: With this title do I even need a summary… Luke teases you with a pair of vibrating panties and then fucks you realllll good ;)

Warnings: This is ridiculously smutty + involves the use of vibrating panties

Word Count: 2.6k 

A/N: If you don’t know what vibrating panties are, they’re basically a pair of underwear with a vibrator over where your clit goes. The pair used in this uses a remote to control the speed of the vibe! 

Originally posted by queenlukes

“L-Luke,” You stammer, tugging on the sleeve of your boyfriend’s shirt. 

When you receive no answer, you tilt your head and look back to see him talking to Michael, his face lined with concentration.

The conversation between the two friends seems calm, both of them chatting about guitars. You want to laugh. 

Michael wouldn’t have that smile stretched across his face if he knew what was going on between your legs. 

Keep reading

How They Smile
  • Aries: Silly toothy smiles, wide grins, confident smirks, the most innocent and genuine smiles of them all
  • Taurus: Beautiful smiles, doesn't-like-showing-teeth smiles, subtle smiles, eyebrow-raised smiles, careful smiles
  • Gemini: Smirk galore, I-know-something-you-don't smile, smiling at a joke they told themselves in their head, wide and mischievous and cunning grins
  • Cancer: Scrunched-up-nose smiles, cute and giggly smiles, covering their face smiles, biting their lips and fighting smiles, shy smiles, nostalgic and sad smiles
  • Leo: Radiant smiles, tilting-their-head smirks, flips-hair and smirks, confident smiles, that smile just before a laugh
  • Virgo: Graceful smile, half-hearted smiles, pursed lips leading into a smile, careful smiles, quiet-charm smiles
  • Libra: Kind and pleasant smiles, admiring-someone's-beauty smile, small smiles, covering-their-mouth-while-laughing smiles, smooth and easygoing smiles
  • Scorpio: Smiling with eye contact, intimidating smiles w/mixed signals, I-just-figured-you-out smirk, I-love-you-but-I-hate-you smile, guarded and intriguing smiles
  • Sagittarius: Big and wide smiles, childish grins and enthusiastic smiles, let-me-tell-you-a-story w/twinkly eyes smile, I-know-more-than-you smirk
  • Capricorn: Dry-humored eyes w/sarcastic smiles, rolls-eyes kind of smile, wise-beyond-your-years smile, unsure smiles, business smiles, fighting-the-urge-to-smile kind of smiles
  • Aquarius: Crooked grins, half smiles, silly-grins-to-make-you-laugh, inappropriate-timing smiles, "cool" smiles, empty smiles
  • Pisces: Go-with-the-flow kind of smiles, sleepy grins, dreamy-eyes w/shy smiles, quiet and irresistibly charming smiles, soft-hearted smiles, mystic smiles

what if medusa was a real woman. i mean: what if the woman with snakes in her hair was once a tiny girl with beautiful braids in her black hair.

what if the stories came from her smooth hands. when she was six she could make pottery that looked like flowers blooming in your palms. could carefully create replicas of any plant she saw.

and medusa was smart. ran from home, tucked up her hair so it looked short, made herself into a little boy. besides, they liked pretty boys. medusa at school with top grades, sending her unknowable stares at the other men. because the whole time she’s learning the planes of their faces, the way they look while they’re thinking, the slight twist of their hand that meant they were lying. 

medusa going home to sketch every little figure. comes to school in the morning with her hands caked in pottery clay. medusa learns. scrubs dirt on her face to mimic their planes. tilts her head the right way when she’s thinking. doesn’t twist her hand when she’s lying.

in her back yard, a little garden grows. statues of ceramic boys only three feet tall. at first, she can’t quite get the faces right. men are not the same as plants. there is something weird about the proportions she uses. medusa frowns.

she starts making animals instead for a bit, annoyed and disheartened. she’d always just been naturally good at it, and the fact she couldn’t just make something felt as if she’d lost her gift.

she makes cats and dogs and her neighbor’s birds and keeps going.

the snake wasn’t her favorite. he just wouldn’t leave her alone, so she gave up and let him sleep on her in the cold nights. besides, he was a small garden snake, couldn’t even bite her hard, just wanted a place of warmth. she let him rest on the angles of her shoulders, right near her neck, even if he sometimes forgot and held her too hard. that was okay. when she was little, she forgot too, sometimes, and shattered the slim walls of her pottery. the snake had a lot of growing up to do.

she loved no one. not because she was cold-hearted. just because it wasn’t something she wanted. she was busy with her artwork.

she chose an apprenticeship under a master craftsman. his sculptures made her breath stop. she was careful in the workshop, kept her things simple, kept her mouth shut. he called her stupid often. she would duck her head. sometimes she would make mistakes on purpose. all the while he only made sculptures of men. said there was no beauty in women. often made savage remarks about those they saw in the market.

and all the while, she watched him. she watched him and she went home and sketched. this is how his hands were when he made a vine. this is how they were when shaping a nose.

and her back yard garden would grow. little boys became her master, over and over and over, until she could get his jaw right. ceramic became sculpture.

he was who took her to athena’s temple. who shouted at her about how beautiful the statues were against her own. every week he’d come back and shame her. asked how the women there were smarter than the man she was supposed to be. medusa ducked her head and grit her teeth.

in her back yard, she made them. she made every god and goddess she’d seen in the city. her favorite was athena. she ached over her features. had spent so long in the world of men, was blinded by the beauty of women.

it was a black night. and medusa thought her master had left the temple before her. she loosened all the bindings that kept her from breathing. took her hair out. worshiped in peace. placed on athena’s alter a small and beautiful thing. the goddess, head tilted, thinking.

when he found medusa, what made him angry was not her small frame. it was the statute. a delicate thing. much better than the ones he had ever made.

he took it and snapped it in half. threw it deep in the temple’s well to rot. pulled her by her hair. demanded to know where it had come from.

medusa, angry, tired of hiding, tired of late nights and being a boy and pretending: medusa, athena-mad, spat on him. “I did it,” her voice is strong and full of hatred, “A woman made something better than a man could.”

He meant to kill her. To bash her head into the temple steps, claim it was an accident - or better yet, the spite of a god made flesh.

when he grabs her hair, the goddess bites back. athena, patron of creators, patron of the arts, patron of girls and those who are smart - she turns medusa’s hair into snakes. 

it is a quick little thing, darts out and draws blood, almost falls from her hair as a result. she catches the creature and runs, runs until she feels numb.

and what if - while her master is making up a story about poseidon and athena’s rage, explaining medusa’s back yard full of frozen men as being evidence of her evilness - what if medusa finds friends in blind women. and they teach her how to feel what she is seeing. how to use her hands with her eyes closed to make maps of whatever she holds. she starts with plants again. her snake is big now, and has babies. she moves on to their little wiggling forms, amused when they make tiny rings around her fingers. she does not live in a cave. she dresses as a man again, goes to market, sells her roses and vines and beautiful (simple) things. buys herself and the women a nice house out beyond all the noise of it. fills their garden with frozen men.

when the men come to kill her - because now her name is known, it is whispered, sticks in the throat - they don’t find her. they find a tall man who tells them: look in the mountains. when they don’t come back, it’s no fault of medusa’s. frankly, she thinks they should have brought more supplies than their swords into the deep woods. she’s not cruel. when they leave, she makes a statue of them, as her version of a memorial.

but one man is not like the others. he finds her with her hair down, humming, dancing around a marble stone. her snakes are warming in the sun.

medusa? he asks her. it’s a name she hasn’t heard in a long while.

she is tired of being hunted. she just wants to make art. she waits for the sword point. but he hesitates. looks at her full in her face.

strikes a bargain. if she makes him a head for his shield, he will tell the others that she is good and dead. and he will sell her art to better patrons when he could - although he suggests at least hiding the signature she has with maybe a little less snake-like scrawl - he would make her name known.

but medusa knows men. knows they will chomp down on a horror story faster than that of the artist. she is already permanent. she says: no, here’s what happens.

after many months, he has his shield. she wouldn’t let him leave with the first nine hundred versions, always found something wrong with them. he grows fond of her in this time, agrees to her terms. even he can’t really look at the shield head-on. she has captured a scream, a rage, too much. it is so utterly human and at once not that it makes his skin crawl.

where medusa’s blood drops, serpents sprawl. or at least, that’s the code she uses. when he finds little girls who can make art, he sends them to her. 

medusa does not expect to be known for the school that she starts. she is a women artist in a time of men, and her name is already dead to them. but i know medusa. i know her. she is known for her work.

after all, who can speak about medusa without mentioning how she froze the world?

smitten

Newt Scamander x Reader

Warnings: swearing

Requested by Anon


He meets her by accident.

One sunny September Thursday, Newt Scamander devours himself in a book about thunderbirds, sat comfortably in a lemon-colored armchair. The autumn sun shines onto the faded pages of the book perched on his lap, one of his hands resting in his disheveled chestnut hair.

The Hufflepuff common room surrounds him as he reads - full of plants and shades of yellow. Newt quite enjoys the comfort of the place, the stillness of it. It puts him at ease.

After he goes to fetch a glass of water, he returns to find a girl in his seat.

Her hair frames her face as she peers down at the book Newt had been reading, now folded in between her fingers. He tilts his head, stares at her - unsure of what to do. When she seems to completely zone out her surroundings and continue to read, Newt lightly clears his throat, tugging on his yellow-striped tie.

She finally glances up, hesitates. Her lips part before she asks, “Were you sitting here?”

He nods, clutching the glass of water in his hand and rocking onto his heels. “Yeah,” he breathes.

“I’m so sorry,” she says, standing up and placing the book back on the table, exactly where Newt had left it. “I thought someone just left the book here and forgot about it.”

“It’s okay,” he replies, not moving from where he stands, feet feeling pasted to the hardwood floors. His chest tightens as he comes to the realization that she had been interested in the same book as him. 

He immediately wants to know everything about her - devour her thoughts and memorize her intuitions. Newt could instantly see being close friends with her, maybe more if -

She walks away before he could mutter another word.

But not before offering him a friendly grin.


He learns her name a week later. 

As Newt readies his cauldron in Potions class, he hears the unmistakable screech of the door’s hinges. He glances up, swears his heart skips a beat as she saunters in, blowing a strand of hair out of her face and clutching her books to her chest.

Newt can’t seem to tear his eyes away. Not when there’s a lump in his throat and the girl that had been living in the back of his mind for the past week is now standing in front of him.

The professor welcomes her, explains how she switched classes and Newt tries to hide the tug of a smile on his lips as he hears her name. Y/N. He decides that it suits her.

He’s not prepared when the professor tells her to sit next to him.

“Hi,” she says, setting her books down and getting settled on the wobbly stool.

He swallows the anxiety in his throat, wipes a sweaty palm on his pants as she finally turns to him, searches his face with her wide eyes.

He doesn’t expect her to recognize him. He’s good at blending into the background, and she doesn’t seem like she would -

“You’re the thunderbird guy,” she states - doesn’t ask. Newt grins.

“Yeah,” he says. “I’m Newt.”

A smile curves onto her pink lips. “Y/N,” she repeats, but the name had already been circling his head since he had first heard it.

He inhales and hopes that this could be the start of something.


Autumn flies by like a murder of crows and Newt is forced to face the fact that he’s too fucking timid to admit how she makes him feel.

Because he gets a knot in his stomach every time her eyes meet his. Because his name sounds like a melody when it rolls off her tongue. Because her smile is infectious, and Newt can’t look at it without mirroring a grin.

Because she’s too good for him, and he knows it.

In his eyes, she’s that moment right before the sun goes down, when the sky is tinted pink and everything seems to be at ease. Y/N’s all the colors of a painting all at once, vibrant and beautiful.

And what is he? The bland, black sky of the night. The beige wall next to a work of art.

At least, that’s how he sees it.


When winter arrives, the hopelessness sets up camp in Newt’s chest. 

As the snowflakes hit the windowsill, he curses himself for being so damn shy. If he were more outgoing, Merlin knows what the two of them could have been.

Well, if she returned his feelings.

It’s the night before Christmas Eve when he decides to do it. The party, the following night, in the common room - he was going to do it.

He was finally going to kiss her.

He figures that a mistletoe would be the perfect excuse, push, to do it. Because if he doesn’t do it now, he never will - and he’s not willing to take that chance.


Newt clutches onto the cup of spiked pumpkin juice so tightly, that his fingers turn pale. His lips haven’t touched the drink, because he wants - no, needs - to be sober when it happens; if it happens.

The Hufflepuff common room walls are strung with lights, the smell of peppermint in the air. Newt watches Y/N from across the room, her lips caught in a laugh as she talks among her friends, hair tucked behind one ear and creases bordering her soft eyes.

When her friends dispatch, he takes his chance. 

Newt tentatively glances at the mistletoe, perched over the punch bowl, as he walks over to her, quickly running a hand through his light brown hair.

“Y/N,” he says, more of a plea than anything else.

“Newt,” she replies, smiling up at the lanky boy. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he repeats, heart rate skyrocketing. “I’m a little thirsty. Do you want to get some punch?”

The corners of her lips tug upwards even more, and she raises an eyebrow. “What about that pumpkin juice?” she asks, glancing down at the cup in his hand before meeting his eyes again.

“Oh,” he said, chuckling to cover up the shakiness in his voice. “I - uh, actually, it tastes like rubbish.”

Y/N laughs. Newt wishes he could trap that sound in a jar and keep it forever.

“Yeah, I’ll have some punch,” she says, the laughter still lingering in her eyes, smile still plastered on her lips. 

Newt nods excessively. “Okay,” he breathes, before they walk over to the punch bowl, the mistletoe looming over him like a dark cloud. His chest aches as he pours her a cup of the beverage, the redness of the liquid only reminding him of the pinkness of her lips and oh, how he wants to feel them move against his.

“Thanks,” she whispers, pretending not to notice the trembling of Newt’s fingers as he cautiously slips the cup into her hand.

He pours a cup for himself, sipping it as he attempts (and fails) to suavely lean on the table with his left hand.

She stifles a laugh by taking a sip, feeling the tart juice on her tastebuds. 

“You know,” he says, running his tongue over his lips. “This plant here, mistletoe - in muggle tradition, people kiss underneath it.”

“Hmm,” Y/N says, glancing up at the plant, well aware of its significance. “Are you sure that’s not oregano?” she teases, a smirk splattered across her mouth. 

She places her cup down on the table as Newt stutters, “W-What-”

And then she’s kissing him.

Newt Scamander is flustered as hell, because he wasn’t prepared, no, nothing could have prepared him for that.

His body freezes, and he struggles to put down his punch so he can touch her, because, Merlin, all he had wanted to do was touch her.

It’s not what he had expected; it’s better.

Because she tastes like fruit punch and opportunity. Pounding hearts and new beginnings. His hands travel from her face to her waist and back again, as if he wanted to memorize every bend in her body.

But he can’t deny that his hands are shaking as he kisses her back - and it’s what he imagines clouds would taste like. He’s up in the air, traveling higher with each intake of breath and he doesn’t ever want to come down.

He has a feeling she doesn’t, either.

Teen Wolf Preference - You slapping his butt

Thank you endlessly @pissheadofficial​, my forever source of inspiration, for helping me write these. ♥

Scott McCall

You sneaked up on him, watching as he stood by his locker along with his pack. Soundless, you walked up behind him, not even Stiles noticed you and he stood almost in front of you.

The sound of your palm hitting one of his butt cheeks made Scott’s eyes widen and his jaw to drop. The purse of his lips slowly turning into a sincere smile once he saw it was you who were the one surprising him like that.

”Did you really just do that in front of everyone?” Scott asked with a flattered smile and you nodded in agreement. ”Your very right McCall.” you said and twirled your hair around your fingers as innocently as you were capable of, making Lydia and Malia giggle at your behavior.

”I’m allowed to touch my man aren’t I?” you asked and he grabbed your face in his hand, tilting it up to his as he spoke with a deeper voice. ”Right, I like the little weird ways you show affection.” quirking his eyebrow as he leaned in to kiss you.

Liam Dunbar

You were supposed to meet Liam by his locker this morning, and as you walked around the corner you saw him standing there, waiting for you with his back turned against you.

You straightened your back and smirked for yourself as you approached him, slowly sneaking up on him and leaned into his ear. ”Hey sugar.” you whispered with a seductive voice and used the whole palm of your hand to slap him on the butt, with full force that earned a juicy sound that echoed through the hall.

Liam flinched let out a loud gasp, the surprise of the sudden motion got him to turn around in shock. You still wore that same smirk when you met the mortified face of Liam, his blue eyes have never been so wide and he seemed to have lost his ability to speak.

The only thing he managed to do was to give you a nervous laughter, an increase in his heart rate and stuttering something inaudible before his face turned crimson, lowering his gaze to the floor to avoid you.

You loved to tease Liam this way and he exclaimed a nervous ”Oh okay!” before scratching the back of his head and then rush to his morning class, leaving you giggling by your locker.

Brett Talbot

”Heya Brett!” you squealed as you walked up beside him on the field. You were on the Beacon Hills lacrosse team and you wanted to wish him luck before the game.

You greeted him by giving him a real pat on the butt, squeezing it as your hand met the fabric of his shorts, then flashing him a grin. He immediately turned around to look down on you.

”Hey Y/N, that’s cute-” he began and then he leaned in to whisper in your ear. ”-but don’t start anything you can’t finish.” smirking as he met your mesmerized face.

You bit your lip and took another step forward, almost pressing yourself against him. ”Well Talbot, there’s nothing with you that I can’t handle.” you purred and Brett scoffed and tugged the hem of his jersey, trying to get some cool air on his now heated skin.

The whistle blew and Brett winked at you. ”Save that for the night Y/N.” then he putted on his helmet and ran towards the rest of the players of Devenford’s lacrosse team.

Theo Raeken 

The light slap of your hand on his butt made Theo turn around, his green eyes focused on yours and he bit his bottom lip once he saw the glistering in your eyes, knowing that it meant that you were full of mischief.

”Really?” he asked with a quirked eyebrow, you could immediately smell the instant arousal reeking from him. Your filthy smile seemed to be contagious, because now, he looked back at you with the exact same smile.

You shrugged and twirled your hair between your fingers, licking your lips as you devoured him with just the look in your eyes. ”You’re unbelievable Y/N.” Theo purred and shook his head, not wanting to admit how you made him feel just by looking at him in a specific way.

Then Theo snaked his arms around your hips to turn your body around, making your back hit the lockers and he pinned you against them with only the strength of his arms. His eyes were a shade darker than usual and you closed the small gap between you when you heard a low growl escape his chest.

anonymous asked:

Wishing I was spending my afternoon making out with Bucky Barnes

Originally posted by gliceria

The end credits began to roll. That was by far the worst book-to-movie adaption you had ever seen. You pulled the blankets up your body further, not wanting to release any of the warmth. You were sitting next to Bucky, his arm wrapped around you, feet propped up on the coffee table in front of you. You had your head resting on top of his shoulder, feeling every breathe he inhaled and exhaled. 

“That wasn’t a bad movie.” Bucky murmured, you felt his breath hit the top of your head. You rolled your eyes, sitting up and looking at him. 

“Did you read the book?” You asked him, quirking an eyebrow and smiling at him gently. His eyebrows furrowed, shaking his head. 

“That’s why you thought it was such a good movie babe.” You tilted your head to the side, raising an arm lazily to brush some hair out of his face. The afternoon sun glowed lightly through the glass panels, giving Bucky a beautiful tan. His eyes shone almost clear in the soft glow, his long, dark, full eyelashes casting a shadow over the tops of his cheeks. You were completely mesmerized. You watched as his tongue came out from his plump, pink lips, swiping over them. You felt his arm move from the back of the couch onto your right hip, making its way towards the small of your back before pulling you onto him. You swung a leg over him, straddling his lap, tilting your head and diving in to plant your lips upon his. Bucky proceeded to bring his other hand up to the back of your neck, effectively deepening the kiss. You felt his tongue swipe at your bottom lip. You smiled into the kiss, denying him. he lightly tugged your hair and grunted in annoyance, moving the both of you so that you were lying down on the couch with Bucky in between your legs. You wrapped your legs around his torso, making sure that he wouldn’t break the kiss. You loved how his lips molded perfectly with yours, how his warm lips contrasted against your cold ones. You loved how his minty breath would combine with your fruity spearmint one. You loved how close the two of you would get. You felt his cold, metal hand move down from cradling your head to squeeze your boob, emitting a gasp from you. You felt him smirk as he moved his tongue to explore your mouth. You tilted your head to the right, moving your tongue against his, attempting to explore his mouth. Your moved both your hands from gripping hi shirt to card your fingers through his silky smooth hair. You knew he conditions his hair from the countless times that you had massaged the conditioner through his scalp, but damn did it feel softer than any other male’s hair that you had touched. Your fingers curled the black locks around them before releasing and tugging at it. Bucky pulled away all of the sudden, your head moving slightly up to chase after his lips. Your eyes slowly fluttered open, taking in the sight before you. Bucky was holding himself up above you, his black hair falling from behind his ears, the man-bun he put in earlier failing him. The sunlight peeked through the strands of hair, creating diagonal lines that made his face look even more like art. His lips were slightly glossy and plumper than usual, slightly parted, allowing small pants to fall out from them. 

“You know I love you right?” He whispered, his facial features soft, almost as if the kiss smoothed all his stresses away. 

“I love you too.”

You propped yourself up on your elbows, reconnecting your lips with his.

masterlist

how we live now

requested by @whatsernamesuburbia

the party in red hook (literally just fluff and happiness and dancing and public kisses)


When they get to the party, Lukas parks his bike against the house, and grabs Philip by the shirt, pulling his helmet off. Philip wipes the hair out of his eyes, making a face.

“I could have done that.” Philip says, arching his brows. Lukas grins.

“But it’s so much fun to mess up your hair.”

“You love my hair.”

“When did I say that?”

“You don’t have to say it.”

“Then how do you know?” Lukas counters, setting his own helmet on the bike’s seat.

“Because you always run your fingers through it when we-“ Lukas places a hand over Philip’s mouth, nose crinkling.

“Fine. Whatever.” Lukas says. Philip tilts his head, giving him a wide grin.

“Embarrassed, Waldenbeck?”

Lukas narrows his eyes, grabs Philip by the shirt, and pulls him against him. He tilts Philip’s chin up with a finger, noses touching.

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Was theorising with @monarobot a little while ago, so I thought I’d make it into a post!

So, there’s this dude in the masquerade scene that stands out a little more than the rest.

Without his usual tricorn hat, you’re able to see blond back-brushed hair for this small segment of the scene.

And the silken sashes falling by the sides of his face mimic Jareth’s hair rather cleverly.

Notice he’s sandwiched between these two ladies. Sarah turns around and in just a few seconds this guy has changed to:

You guessed it.

Not to mention this nameless guy seems very interested in Sarah.

And then when the camera starts panning, you can see him stalking behind the rest of the dancers, never breaking eye contact.

Which is rather strange, but then there’s this little detail:

*bird head tilt*

*bird head tilt*

I wonder… It makes me think a lot of Terry Jones’ thoughts on some previous scripts, of how Jareth could project himself through the labyrinth whilst always staying in his castle. Who’s to say he can’t make more than one of himself?

I personally loved @monarobot idea that the Jareth we see dancing with Sarah is a false one, and the masked man is the real one who gets a little too wrapped up in the fantasy and can’t keep his eyes off Sarah.

Also bonus of Jareth looking adorably heartbroken.

BUT WHAT’S THIS?

OH IT’S YOU AGAIN.

If you watch that part where Sarah runs away, masked man stands just as shocked and still as Jareth, watching her go. But then as Jareth disappears into the crowd, masked man is one of the first to make a grab for her.

Altogether very interesting.

I’d love to hear what everyone else has to say..?

sometimes @wymack comes up with really good sentences and I get inspired by them


“I hate you,” Andrew says, kicking away from the Maserati and taking a long drag of his cigarette. The night is dark on the horizon, but Andrew is shrouded in the amber glow from the light poles in the parking lot. The sharp shadows across Andrew’s face make his cheekbones look hollow and his eyes look like frozen amber instead of their usual polished gold.

Neil shakes his head in denial and watches Andrew stop moving, tilt his head as if deciding something, and then pivot back to start pacing. His hair is getting longer, brushing the tops of his ears and his eyebrows. Neil knows that there hasn’t been enough time to cut it, not with the stress cycling around them, depression and anxiety pulling at both of them in waves. “No, you don’t,” Neil says.

Andrew’s eyes flick towards Neil, assessing, but inevitably Andrew continues to pace. “More than anything,” Andrew promises, flicking ash at Neil as he walks past.

Making a face, Neil brushes the ash off the front of his Foxes hoodie. “I think, for you, ‘I hate you’ is interchangeable with ‘I hate the way you make me feel.’” Now that the words are out, Neil realizes that he’s been feeling this way for a long time. He’s confident that this time, he has Andrew figured out.

Andrew stops walking, and he drops the hand holding his cigarette to his side. Smoke curls up the back of Andrew’s hand and along the sheer black of his armband, before finally disappearing in the cool air of the night. Neil pushes his advantage and approaches, gate slow and loose, hands in his pockets, head tilted slightly to the side.

“What I’m trying to figure out,” Neil breathes, carefully watching Andrew’s constricted pupils, the spattering of pale freckles over Andrew’s nose, “is whether you mean feeling this in particular, or feeling anything at all.”

“There is no this,” Andrew instantly snaps, as if he had known exactly what Neil was going to suggest.

Neil smiles ruefully and backs away. “I know,” he says, and turns to walk back inside. He ducks his head, heart heavy with the knowledge that Andrew would have and could have gone on living just fine feeling nothing at all.

Model!Bitty (1/?)

part two


Jack Laurent Zimmermann couldn’t speak.

It wasn’t because his mother had dragged him to another one of her management meetings. It wasn’t because she was trying to force him to socialise with the models. It wasn’t even because she’d made him make a speech he’d been completely unprepared for in front of the entire modelling agency and he’d entirely screwed it over.

It was all to do with the small southern boy standing in front of him, wrapped up in a navy suit that must have been tailored just for him, his blond hair swept back and his brown eyes warm and sweet like freshly melted chocolate.

“Mister… Zimmermann?” he tilted his head, the smile that danced on his lips amused, “Your eyes are open but it seems you’ve fallen asleep.”

Jack thrusted out a hand suddenly, internally kicking himself for the momentarily startled look on the model’s face, “Jack. Call me Jack. You’re, uh… Mr. Bittle, aren’t you?” He said the name as though he hadn’t read it a million times, printed neatly under his model shots. Eric Bittle.

“Bitty, please,” Eric took Jack’s hand and shook it, his grin widening and showing off perfect white teeth, “That’s what my friends call me.”

“Friends?” Jack blurted, the word tumbling over his lips before he could stop himself. He was being awkward as all Hell, but before he could even start to correct himself, Bitty had taken over.

“Friends,” he said, tilting his head with a mischievous look in his eyes, “You know. The people you like and form relationships with. You do… have friends, don’t you, Mr. Zimmermann?”

Jack almost had to take a while to think of an answer – he’d just noticed the tiniest sprinkling of freckles over Bittle’s face like fairies themselves had placed them there and he was suddenly not sure if it was possible that someone as beautiful as Eric Bittle could actually exist. Much less that he’d actually take an interest in the socially awkward, blocky Jack L Zimmermann. “I don’t know. I’ll have to ask them.”

It’s a ridiculously lame answer, but Eric laughed anyway, a bubbly giggle that Jack was pretty sure was the sound that golden sunlight would make if you could hear it, “Y’know, you’re so different in real life than you are to those magazine interviews. Obviously this isn’t the first time I’ve been to one of these meetings, and I know it’s not the first time for you, either, but I’ve never had the guts to come over and introduce myself. I always saw you as… well…” Eric bit his lip, his eyes squinting as he thought of the right words, “Distant? Kind of… threatening, almost? You seem so deep and mysterious.”

“I’ve been told I have ‘modes’,” Jack shrugged, his mind absolutely spinning. Bitty reads my interviews? Bitty has been working up the courage to talk to me?!  “Like some kind of… modelling robot.”

“Lord, that’s a bit dark!” Bittle grinned lopsidedly, “Y’don’t seem like a robot to me. Not anymore, anyway, after that speech you gave today. Never thought y’all would be the type to get all nervous up on stage. Thought you’d be used to it by now, what with y’all being the biggest name in modelling from here to Georgia.”

“Oh,” Jack felt all of his insides freeze over. Great. The only reason Bittle had decided to talk to him was that Jack had been so desperately awkward in front of the entire modelling agency that Bitty had decided he must secretly be softer than the terrifying modelling beast he had thought Jack was. “Uh, well… that’s embarrassing,” Jack grinned helplessly, slapping a palm over one eye, “It wasn’t that bad, was it?”

“Oh, gracious, no! I didn’t mean to offend you Mr. Zimmer- Jack,” Eric looked horrified, his eyes wide, “It wasn’t that bad at all! Lord knows it was better than I could have done, I’m an absolute mess under pressure. I thought it was kinda sweet, actually. Showed a side to the real Jack Zimmermann. Made me feel less nervous about stayin’ over tonight.”

What?” Jack spat out, his insides tightening even further in his abdomen, “You’re… staying over?”

“Didn’t Mrs. Z let you know?” Eric put a hand to his chest, “Oh, Lord! She assured me you were fine with it! Gracious, I told her you wouldn’t appreciate my intruding on y’all’s life for a night, I should have just got a hotel.”

“No,” Jack almost – almost – reached out a hand to put on Eric’s shoulder. As it was he stepped forward, a hand outstretched, “It’s fine, Eric. Really. I just… wasn’t expecting it.” He should have smiled or something, but he was lost in the way Bittle was looking up at him, all concerned and – woah, they’d really never been this close. His lips were bitten but they still looked soft and he wished so badly he could have stepped a little closer to him and ducked his head, stealing a chaste kiss. A shiver ran down Jack’s spine.

“Lord, are you sure?” Bitty asked, his eyebrows raised in concern, “I really don’t wanna intrude. It’s not too late for me to book a room, please don’t feel pressured. I know what it’s like when you just really wanna spend some time on your own without some chatty boy sucking up all your spare moments-”

“I wouldn’t mind if you did,” Jack interrupted softly. His words were only quiet but Bitty stopped talking right away (and was it just his imagination or did Eric’s breath hitch slightly?), “You seem really sweet. You’re always the life of every meeting and I’ve always been trying to talk to you but you’re always talking to other people and I never wanted to interrupt, especially since they’re other models – your co-workers and your friends, and I’m just…” Jack trailed off, the end of his sentence dissolving into silence. His throat was dry and he had to swallow. Had Eric stepped closer or had Jack been leaning in? He wasn’t sure. His heart was pounding and his lips were tingling with a fierce kind of longing.

“I…” Eric breathed, his lips just parted slightly and so inviting, “I, um… Well, I’m glad… I talked to you then. I’ll, um… see you tonight.”

He took a step back from Jack, and Jack felt realisation hit him like a truck – I must have made him feel so uncomfortable standing so close like that. Oh God, tonight is going to be so awkward. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Okay,” Eric flashed him a shy kind of smile and looked down at his feet, “Okay. I’ll see you later tonight then. I better, uh…” he threw a thumb over his shoulder, “I’ve got other people to catch up with.”

“Yeah, me too,” Jack smiled. “See you tonight,” he added as Eric turned away, “Bye, Bitty.”


requests are open!

Oh, yes! Thank you, thank you, anon!! Hope you like it! 

Yoosung:

  • He won’t press a kiss without a soft blush across his cheeks.
  • Yoosung gently brings both of his hands to caress the sides of your face, stroking his thumbs lightly against your skin.
  • He’ll tilt his own face slightly to deepen the kiss becoming a little less shy as he continues forth.
  • Yoosung will then begin running his fingers through your hair, to the point where he’s gently massaging your scalp.
  • Everything about Yoosung is light, gentle and sweet, especially his kisses.

Zen:

  • His hands grasp your waist and abruptly pull you against his body, bringing you close and not giving you a second to even process what’s going on until it’s already happening.
  • He moves his lips against you in fervor, running his hands along the sides of your body and really anywhere he can touch.
  • Zen will allow his lips to leave yours only to whisper sweet, little things into your ear that will certainly make you blush.
  • It’s rather easy for things to get heated, the steady rhythm of lips turning into more of a frenzy.
  • If you let him, Zen’s kisses can turn into something much more.

Jaehee:

  • It isn’t very often that Jaehee would initiate a kiss, but when she does she doesn’t seem to know what to do with her hands at first.
  • Jaehee will press a kiss on your lips, allowing her hands to hover at your waist until you finally grasp Jaehee’s hands to fully place them on your hips.
  • Jaehee will gently thumb the fabric there, running along your hipbones, releasing a breathy sigh while doing so.
  • Of course at this, a deep blush spreads across Jaehee’s face at the noises she’s made.
  • The kiss turns to all smiles as you tell Jaehee that she’s absolutely adorable.

Jumin:

  • His kisses are open-mouthed, deep and entirely sensual.
  • His preference is having you pressed heavily into the mattress of the bed, his body bringing as much pressure upon your own as possible.
  • Jumin really loves to watch. He’ll look at you with eyes open, half-lidded in lust as your tongues continue in their dance.
  • He’ll do his best to get you gasping for air at the end of his kisses.
  • Your panting and soft moans are what Jumin lives for and will most likely pull you into at least 50 more kisses by the end of the night.

Seven (Warning: Slight NSFW):

  • Seven’s favorite way to kiss you is to sneak up from behind, wrapping one of his arms lightly around your waist pulling you close.
  • He uses his other hand in grasping your jaw and carefully twisting your face around to meet his lips.
  • There is no hesitance as he swiftly pushes his tongue into your mouth, while simultaneously tightening the grip that he has amongst your waist.
  • He favors giving you little love bites on your bottom lip, having the hand holding your face fall and wrap around your waist, so that both arms now have a tight hold of you.
  • That’s when he’ll have your body flush amongst his own, rolling his hips heavily against you, earning deep sighs from the both of you.

                                              Spoiler boys under cut

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everything comes back to you

requested by anonymous

a philkas afterglow fic in the motel


Philip settles beside Lukas, skin flushed, and scoots into his side, Lukas wrapping an arm around him. Their skin is sticky with sweat, and the room is warmer than Philip remembers it, but maybe that’s just him. Lukas’s skin feels warm to the touch where he’s pressed against Philip.

“You okay?” Philip asks, uncertain, Lukas not having spoken since the last yes.

“Yeah. Im okay. Better than okay.” Lukas murmurs.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Lukas’ fingers come up to brush back Philip’s hair, fingertips gliding along his head rhythmically. Philip rolls slightly, making it so he can see Lukas’ face if he tilts his chin up.

“I’m good, too.” He says. Lukas’ lips curl up in a soft smile, and his gaze wanders to the ceiling above them.

“I’m gonna say something really cheesy.” Lukas says. Philip’s brows knit together, and he pushes himself up on an elbow.

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“Azriel?”

His body is tight, rigid next to hers as he holds her hand in bed, the sheets pulled down on his exposed chest.

He’s shaking.

Sweat creases his brow, the brow Mor runs her fingers over, she herself still half asleep.

“Azriel, love,” she says softly and lays her head on his chest. Tilting her chin up so she can whisper close enough to his ear, she murmurs, “I love you. Please - Az. Don’t be afraid. I love you.”

Shadows chase. His wings jerk. And then he is still. Absolutely still.

But he holds her a little closer as the planes of his face even out.

Morrigan drifts back off to sleep tucked around him when she’s sure it’s safe again, Azriel nuzzled into her side, her neck, her hair.

They don’t wake the rest of the night.

Auston Matthews - Part 17

Big decisions…. 

By the time we break away from each other, there’s several more stars behind Auston and his hair is a rumpled mess.

“Sorry, I might have gone a little overboard,” I say softly, doing my best to flatten his hair back out.

Auston laughs and grabs my hand from his hair and brings it to his mouth, kissing my knuckles and my belly clenches in response.

“Do we have to go back to the house?” He asks, his eyes trailing to my exposed neck again, although it’s a bit red in places. “I’ve waited to do that since I was sixteen years old,” he whispers, his fingers under my jaw, tilting my face up so he can peck me on the lips once more.

His words warm me even more and I smile against his lips.

“Really? Cause I’ve wanted to do that for the last four or five days,” I tease before pulling away.

Auston gives me that smile again and grabs my hand, pulling me into a sitting position. I look around and find the inner tube we rode just a few feet away.

“Least we still have a ride the rest of the way down,” I say, reaching over and pulling the tube over to us.

“You could have rode me,” Auston says, getting to his feet and grinning down at me.

“Oh my god, Auston!” I snap, my cheeks could melt the snow beneath me.

“You could have rode me while yelling that,” he adds, helping me to my feet and I smack his chest.

“Stop that!” I scold. “What if your mother heard you say that?”

Auston quirks an eyebrow at me, a devilish grin on his face. “She isn’t here now,” he says his eyes traveling down my body, although I’m not sure how desirable I look in snow pants and a winter jacket.

“As charming as that sounds, we need to go before someone comes looking for us,” I say, trying to keep a straight face.

Auston gives me an exaggerated, disappointed sigh and flops down on the tube, holding his arms to me and this time I climb much more willingly onto his lap.  

The rest of the ride down the hill goes much smoother and I begin to wonder if it was actually our combined weight earlier that made us crash or if Auston purposely made us. Once we get everything put away, we make our way to the snow mobile and we glance at each other.

“I enjoyed my ride earlier,” Auston says after a moment of measuring each other up.

“Doesn’t surprise me,” I mutter, putting my helmet on and straddling the sled. “Let’s go.” I rev the engine and he laughs, climbing on behind me, much closer than need be, and wraps his arms around my waist.  

We beat Alex and Breyana to the house and are quickly recruited by Mr. and Mrs. Matthews to help pack up the car to go back to Toronto. I help downstairs before going to my room and getting my things together and stripping the sheets off the bed. I can hear when Alex and Breyana arrive and quietly close my door before they come up the stairs.

I go to the window and sit on the bench in front of it, staring outside at the sunset just visible behind the trees. Thankfully I’ve been able to avoid being questioned by Auston about what I’m going to do and I feel a sense of relief that we have a two hour ride back to Toronto where he won’t be able to ask. I remain in the room until I hear Mrs. Matthews calling me from the stairs that it’s time to go.

I throw on my coziest sweater that my mom packed and grab my headphones from my purse before climbing into the middle seat with Auston. This time I don’t mind the distance between us, I put my headphones on and pull my legs up to my chest, curled into a ball against the door. Alex says something to me but I pretend not to hear her.

Guilt begins to gnaw at me once we are half an hour into the drive. I can feel every time that Auston looks at me and I know exactly what’s going through his head. I glance into the backseat to see Breyana into whatever show she’s watching on her phone and Alex is passed out. I twist in my seat, my body now facing Auston and I stretch a leg out, just barely grazing his leg with my calf, but it’s enough to get his attention and I nudge him once. He meets my gaze and I nudge him again, leaning my head against the headrest and giving him a soft smile.

Auston doesn’t smile back but I can see his expression soften and he grabs my ankle, pulling my leg onto his lap. I take that as a good sign and spend the next hour and a half staring out the sunroof, very aware of the small circles Auston is making on the bare skin of my ankle with his thumb. What am I going to do?

I start complying a list of pros and cons of each of my options and instead of making anything easier, it feels like I’m slowly ripping my heart into pieces. I let out a frustrated sigh which Mrs. Matthews hears me and looks back at me.

“Everything alright, dear?” She asks, motherly concern plain on her face.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I say quietly and Auston squeezes my ankle, but I ignore him.

A few minutes outside of Toronto my phone vibrates on my lap.

Talk tonight. No excuses.

Go figure, it’s from Auston. I want to argue and tell him I just want to go to bed but I know that won’t fly.

               Fine.

               Once we get back to Auston’s apartment, I am quick to avoid him, helping bring everything upstairs and then shut myself in the bathroom to shower. I ponder if I can just pretend to fall asleep, he wouldn’t dare come out into the living room and get me if his sisters are there. Right as I step out of the shower, my phone vibrates with another message from Auston.

               Don’t even bother pretending to fall asleep. Ill just wake u.

               How does he do that?

               I snap my phone back down on the counter and stare at myself in the mirror. A normal person would be exhausted from the lack of sleep I’ve gotten the last week, but as someone who spends most of her nights awake in her backyard, there’s not a dark circle to be seen. However, there’s a miserable look about my expression that even I can see. I’m ninety percent sure about what I’m going to choose, even if I don’t feel confident in said choice and it makes me miserable.

               After dressing and brushing out my hair, I peek out of the bathroom and see Mr. and Mrs. Matthews’ door is already shut, meaning they already went to bed. My stomach plummets and I desperately hope that Alex and Breyana don’t fall asleep right away. I make my way out into the living room and immediately feel Auston’s eyes on me from his seat in the chair next to Breyana. Avoiding his gaze I climb over Alex into my spot on the end and sit up with my back against the couch portion of the pullout.

               Grabbing my pillow, I pull my knees to my chest and push the pillow to the bottom half of my face and instantly my senses are overloaded by the smell of Auston. I find some comfort in that and relax a little, but still my head whirls around what I’m supposed to say to him later.

               The four of us watch T.V. in silence for a while until Auston announces he’s going to bed. I peek at him as he stands and he meets my gaze, unsmiling. I quickly look away and focus on the T.V. To my dismay, Breyana instantly falls asleep the second I hear Auston close his door. I quickly get Alex’s attention and engross her in a meaningless conversation, but it doesn’t last long and she too drifts off to sleep. I sit there for several minutes unsure about what I’m supposed to do, the T.V. switches off, it’s sleep timer ending.

               Almost instantly there’s a message on my phone screen and I make a face at it.

               I heard the tv turn off, are they asleep?

               No.

               I lie and I watch my screen anxiously, hoping and praying he just goes to bed.

               Liar. If ur not in here within 2 minutes im coming out there.

               I fidget in my spot, he wouldn’t really come out here, would he? Probably. I hesitate another minute before slowly standing up and watch Alex and Breyana to make sure their breathing doesn’t change. I slowly back down the hallway towards Auston’s room and keep my eyes on them, almost hoping they do wake up and ask me what the hell I’m doing.

               Unfortunately, I’m not that lucky and soon find myself outside Auston’s bedroom. I’m not sure whether to knock or not but I decide against it and slowly open the door and slip in. Almost instantly Auston’s hands are on my face, pulling me in for a rough kiss. Oh, okay.

               “I thought I did something wrong,” he finally mutters against my lips after breaking away from me.

               “What? Why?” I ask, trying to catch my breath.

               “You haven’t talked to me since the hill, I thought maybe you regretted kissing me earlier or something,” he responds and I can see embarrassment on his face which melts my heart.

               “Auston,” I whisper before closing the distance between us and meeting his lips with my own. I press against him and realize he isn’t wearing a shirt and I take the opportunity to do a little exploring with my hands. Auston presses me back against the door with a thud and we both freeze, listening for any sounds in the living room. After we hear nothing but silence, Auston pulls away from me.  

               “Are you trying to distract me?” Auston asks, his eyes wandering down to my stomach and I realize my shirt had ridden up, my hands quickly pull it back down and I turn scarlet again.

               “I didn’t do that! You did by pushing all up against me!” I snap, still pulling at my shirt even though it’s back in its proper place.

               “Hey, only fair. Shirt for a shirt,” he teases me and my eyes instantly travel down his torso.

               “Nope, not a chance,” I grumble and look past him into his room. It’s much like the living room, the feeling of Arizona is here as well. There’s pictures on his dresser and on the walls and I can’t help but smile at them, the majority have his family smiling around him. I brush my finger against the frame of the picture from his draft day.

               “Your mom called me that day. I could barely understand her, she was crying and switching between English and Spanish,” I smile at the memory. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard her more proud.”

               Auston stands just behind me, looking at the picture as well, a smile playing on his face.

               “Still, I meant what I said, I’m pretty sure she loves you more than me,” Auston says, teasing me.

               I laugh and shake my head, “Not a chance.”

               We talk a few more minutes about a couple other pictures and then we settle down on his bed, facing each other. At first he seems a bit distracted by me being on my bed and I can see the change in his eyes.

               “No,” I say, putting my finger in front of my face, trying to be stern. “No touching or kissing until later.” He pouts at me for a moment and his normal expression is back.

               “What do you really want to do?” He asks and I know this time it’s serious talk.

               “I honestly don’t know,” I start. “I wasn’t exaggerating the other day. I truly am terrified at the very thought of leaving home. I know it’s stupid but even being away for more than a few days I get homesick,” I pause a moment and realize with a pang that I haven’t been homesick all week. Before I can think much more about it, Auston cuts in.

               “It’s not stupid. I get it,” he says. “I never realized that I always had my mom with me no matter where I went, so I never had to miss home.”

               I smile at him since he isn’t looking at me, it’s beyond adorable how much he loves her.

               “In the car tonight, I was making a list of pros and cons for both staying in Ann Arbor and coming to Toronto,” I tell him quietly, criss-crossing my legs and pick at the blanket beneath me with my hands.  

               “And? How did that go?” He asks, also watching my fingers work against the blanket.

               “Horrible, I only have one con for one and about fifteen for the other, it’s an obvious decision but I just… don’t know,” I trail off with a sigh. Auston remains silent, waiting for me to go on.

               “I’m terrified, Auston. Never in my life have I ever thought I would fail at anything, I thought I was a person who could take chances and would know the outcome. There’s so much pressure on all sides, my parents think I’m this brilliant girl who can just absorb information and keep it. They don’t realize how hard I’ve had to work, the hours spent studying and missing out on typical college student things. Did you know I’ve never once been to a party?” I’m starting to ramble again, but he doesn’t stop me.

               “I’m worried that if I come here, within a few years I’m going to get burnt out. This is quite literally all I know, but I don’t want it to be work. I want to be able to go to either work or class and not counting the minutes until I get to leave. At home I get that freedom, I’m just going to classes and working on other things in my spare time. I don’t have the pressure of keeping a scholarship or the possibility of letting so many people down. I can’t have a job that requires me to stay all day and put everything I have into it because I don’t have much right now.” I can feel tears threatening to flow over and I angrily swipe at my eyes. Auston waits a moment to make sure I’m done to speak.

               “Y/N,” he starts, putting his hand on mine and pulling it away from his face. “I’ll be honest and tell you that I know the bare minimum of what you’re going through right now. But I’ll tell you what my mom has told me about you and what I’ve learned about you the past five days. You are everything that your parents think you are; brilliant, passionate, dedicated beyond belief… You self-taught yourself until you got to college and when you got there everyone was a hundred miles behind you.

               Mom said after your first day you called her and told her that your professors didn’t know what to do with you because there was nothing left for them to teach you. I don’t think many people can say that’s happened to them in their lifetime. Even now, when you’re supposed to be on vacation, every time you walk by a window you look at the sky, every time you step outside it’s all you see. Y/N, you even do it in the daytime and I can see your eyes going back and forth knowing exactly where, in a few hours, certain things are going to be. It’s amazing. I’m not going to tell you what to do by any means and I don’t have any advice on what to do, but I am going to tell you to remember that you are that brilliant girl that your parents think you are, that my parents think you are. Because you deserve to think of yourself that way, you’ve earned it. You have earned everything that has been offered to you.”

               I sit there staring at him in rapt silence, my fingers have stopped picking at the blanket and even the tears in my eyes seem frozen. I open my mouth to talk, but nothing comes out.

               Auston watches me, eyebrows raised. “What? Didn’t think I had that side to me?”

               “No, no!” I finally splutter out, coming to my senses. “I just… I didn’t expect that.”

               “I told you,” Auston chuckles. “Mom talks about you every time she calls me, I know a lot more about you as a person than you realize. I know you’re the type of person that holds everything in because you don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings. Venting is a good thing, makes you think about things before you say them and what not.”

               “So, you’re just being one of those therapists that pretends to write down what I’m saying and eventually I figure out the problem myself?” I ask, raising my eyebrows at him.

               “Yep, pretty much,” he says, giving me a grin and flipping through the channels on his T.V.

               “So… I can go to bed now?”

               “I would prefer you didn’t,” Auston says and I can’t help but smile.

               “Why not?”

               “Because this will most likely be the last time we can be alone together until you go home, either to pack your things or to stay for good,” Auston says, not even looking up from the T.V.

               I realize with a pang that he’s right and I move closer to him, leaning back like he is and we spend the next two hours talking, laughing and poking fun at each other in quiet voices. Auston eventually drifts off to sleep, and I can’t help but watch him. His bruises have already faded and his breathing is even and surprisingly calming.

               Once the clock turns to three in the morning, I slip off the bed as quietly as I can. I’m almost to the door when I hear him behind me.

               “Y/N?” He asks and I turn around, his eyes are still closed but his head is turned in my direction.

               “Yes?” I whisper back.

               “It’s later,” he mumbles and I can see the smirk on his face from here.

               Moving back to the bed, I lean down over him and kiss the hollow of his throat, trailing soft kisses up his throat and jaw, finally reaches his mouth where I give him another gentle kiss.

               “Goodnight, Auston,” I whisper, but he’s already asleep again, the soft smile still in place.

               I make my way into the living room and consider getting back into bed with Alex and Breyana, but instead find myself sitting in a chair by the window, my eyes scanning the sky, thinking about everything that was said in the last three hours.

               My eyes stay trained on the North Star and I wish beyond belief that for once I wasn’t being pulled in two very opposite directions.  

Sondag 16:16

Nothing but Evak fluff! Enjoy!

SONDAG 16:16

Isak’s eyes are heavy with sleep, lazily opening and closing as Even grazes his nose against the sleepy boy’s face. Isak knows Even’s eyes are wide open, staring at him while his hand brushes Isak’s curls into his hoodie. They have been lying like this for nearly an hour now, nestled close to one another, hands lost in waves of hair and sheets, faces always a head tilt away and soft kisses falling on foreheads and lips.

These are the days Isak always wants to remember.  He closes his eyes, forcing himself to file away every gaze, every movement, every breath so that he can recall them later. For those moments when life creeps in and things get bad.

Even’s breathing is nearly in sync with his own and a random memory make Isak smile a little wider.

“What are you grinning about?” Even asks while pulling his face further away from Isak’s to get a better view.

Isak’s eyes open wide and with a slight panic in his voice he says, “Ah, no, no. Come back…”

“Not until you tell me what you are thinking,” Even says pulling away a bit further, playfulness in his eyes.

Isak lets out a cranky scoff but then raises one corner of his mouth in an amused smile. He grabs the back of Even’s neck bringing him back to where he belongs. “Well?” Even whispers, nipping his nose to Isak’s.

BING!   A text coming from the nightstand interrupts Isak’s thought. Without taking his eyes off the tall boy, Isak says, “Just ignore it.” Even obeys and raises his eyebrows still waiting for an answer.  Isak leans in. “So I… I was just thinking of when…”

BING!   “Fuck… ugh. Whoever it is can wait,” Isak says with an agitated eye roll.

“They must really want to speak with you. Is it your other boyfriend? Are you late for a date because if so I can leave and…” Even props his head on his arm and instinctively, Isak encases him with arms and legs, forcing him back down.  He just wants this moment to last a little longer and if wrapping himself around Even is what it takes, that’s what Isak will do.

He tightens his grip around Even, bringing their faces closer. “I don’t care who it is. Just… just lay here with me.” Even’s face softens as he begins to trace Isak’s jawline with his thumb.

BING!  Without hesitation, Even lunges up and reaches over Isak to the nightstand. He snags the cold phone and flops onto his back. With an exasperated groan and another eye roll, Isak extends his arm, reaching for the phone in Even’s hand. “Just silence it! Let me see…”

“Oh, no, no, no.” Even lifts the phone above his head, too far for Isak to grab.  “I must know who this other man is. Is he a romantic? Does he seduce you with poetry?” Even raise one eyebrow and whispers, “Will we have to duel?” And knowing defeat when he sees it, Isak lets his arm fall on to Even’s chest.    

“Let’s see here…“

Isak sinks further onto his side, head tilted up looking at Even’s eyes darting around the small screen, amusement in his expressions. Isak knows Even has guessed his password, 2121, but doesn’t care who he talks to as long as keeps smiling. Seeing Even happy is what makes the world feel right and real.

Reading through the texts, Even says, “Well, it seems you do not have another love… Probably because of your poor rapping skills but….” Isak huffs through a grin. “It looks like Magnus is freaking out about Vilde.” Even looks down at Isak with a dramatically shocked face.  “And he wants you to tell him how to get her attention, how to make an impression! I had no idea my grumpy little Ivy was such a love expert!”

Isak lifts his head, brows furrowed as if he is offended; although it’s clear he isn’t. “What do you mean?! I am a love master! The best! You of all people should know this… I mean you’re in my bed, wearing my hoodie aren’t you?”

Even laughs as he leans down to repeatedly place a fever of quick kisses on Isak’s forehead. “You’ve got me there. You’re irresistible, Isak!”  He looks back at the phone and taking a deep breath, he continues, “So any advice for our poor Magnus? Any pick-up lines to share, Casanova?”

Isak presses his faces into Evens chest, closes his eyes and whispers, “Ah… I’m all out. Can’t he borrow one of your moves?”

Even looks to the ceiling, eyes squinting. He says nothing as he begins texting and Isak’s drowsy breathing deepens.

               Mangus: Halla! I need your help asap! How do I get Vilde to notice                                    me?????
               Mangus: ISAK! Answer me man!
               Mangus: ISAK! WHAT DO I DO????? TEXT ME BACK

               Isak: Halla. This is Even. Isak is being a grouch but here is what you                         should do. Follow her into the bathroom and use ALL the hand                           towels before she has a chance to use them. But, and this is                             key, make sure she sees you taking all the hand towels. Next                             give her one from the trash to use. Then once she’s really                                 confused just tell her to meet you outside.

               Isak: Works every time.

               Magnus: ARE YOU KIDDING ME EVEN? I CAN’T FOLLOW HER                                      INTO THE BATHROOM! FUCK! SHE’LL THINK I’M GOING                                TO TRY AND KILL HER OR SOMETHING! AND WHAT                                      DOES TAKING ALL THE HAND TOWELS MEAN?! THIS                                    WOULD NEVER WORK.

Knowing this is horrible advice, Even lets out a small laugh and glances down to see Isak drifting off into sleep, his breathing nearly in sync with his own. Even smiles.

               Isak: You’d be surprised.

Even turns the phone off and lays it beside him on the bed. He adjusts his body to fully lie back down, trying his best not to wake Isak. He looks hard at Isak’s soft, peaceful face. Knowing he shouldn’t but unable to help himself, he gives Isak a light kiss on the nose. Isak’s eyes flutter open, meeting Even’s and holding his gaze.

“You took them all…” Isak says in a whisper.

“Hmm? Took what?”

“You took all the fucking hand towels… and I fell for that. That’s what I was smiling about. Who does that?” Isak kisses Even and they can feel their grins on each other’s mouths. Pulling closer, they both close their eyes and Isak nestles his head beneath Even’s chin.

Even softly whispers to himself, “Works every time.”

i can’t get over the (third) kitchen scene because it’s not like isak and even stopped being so fucking adorable the second the camera went to vilde and magnus. there’s no time reference. so remember:

the whole setting is soft and dreamy and a little bit nostalgic, christmas music playing in the background, and even and isak keep kissing in the kitchen, hands stroking cheeks and running through hair, and it’s not a serious make-out because when it’s just getting there, even suddenly asks isak if he can please have some of that money because isak wouldn’t even have 500kr if not for even, and isak buries his face in even’s shoulder as he laughs because that doesn’t make any sense, even? and then they start kissing again, and isak makes a humming noise, tilting his head back and opening his mouth wider, and even drops little pecks on his lips and whispers, please? i could buy a new hoodie and isak tugs on even’s hair and rolls his eyes, baby, you can use all of mine anytime you want. now can you please kiss me? and even pretends to think about it, lips pursed, then he says, nei. you can’t always have what you want, isak and isak puppy-scowls at him and goes, me? you’re going to say no to me? until even laughs and relents, okay, okay, i lied! you can have everything you want and they go on kissing for long, long, long minutes until eskild barges in on them begging even to put up the mistletoe because he’s a giant

Monster (Young Remus Lupin x reader)

A/N: the angst i’ve been longing to write has arrived,, idk how i feel about the ending but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

 Request: Could i request…I was wondering if you could do something just a few years out of hogwarts were remus and reader are together and reader starts asking remus about having children and he freaks out at the though and they end up fighting because reader is already pregnant and was hoping to tell him but now it’s all ruined..love your stuff, you mentioned something about angsty requests, I figured if you’d have it a fight might be nice. 

word count: 648 

warnings: aNgSt 

You and Remus have been sitting, legs intertwined, reading for hours. “Hey, Rem?” You close your book to look up at him. God, he’s so gorgeous. The way the light perfectly contours his face when it’s tilted down, like it is now; the way his hair falls in his face slightly; the way he absentmindedly licks his lips or scrunches up his nose as he reads; how could one man be so beautiful? 

 "Mm?“ He doesn’t even bother to glance up, which amuses you for some reason. He’s just so cute when he’s so engulfed in a novel, like that.

You can’t help but smile. “What d'you think about having kids?" 

His eyes flash up, scanning your face frantically. He’s got on this unreadable expression. "I can’t tell if you’re joking or not,” is all he says. 

Your little grin has disappeared and you can feel your heart sink. “Why would I joke about something like that?”

“I don’t know, Y/N. I just- you know that- I can’t really.. have… children,” He utters, his eyes still searching your face for something, though you don’t know what. 

You’re awfully confused now. “What do you mean?” You sit up and pull your legs up to your chest, getting visibly upset. 

He furrows his brows. “I thought it was obvious?” He sits up as well and mirrors you to an extent. You shake your head. “I don’t know if my- condition- is passed down by genetics or not. I mean-”

“Remus, you know that I’ve always wanted children, and you didn’t think this was worth mentioning?” You frown. You feel your chest tightening. “I don’t care if your ’condition’ is passed down by genetics or not!" 

He scoffs at you, "Well, unless you want little monsters popping out of you all willy-nilly, I think it’s a bad idea." 

 Your heart stops at the word, the obvious disgust he held behind it. 

Monster

You swallow the lump that’s formed in your throat, "Okay, then.” Feeling tears forming in your eyes, you stand and hastily stumble into your bedroom, slamming the door behind you. You set yourself down on your bed and bury your head in your hands. Sobs wrack through your chest. 

You hear his soft footsteps and then a quiet knock. “Sweetheart?” His voice is infinitely gentler than it was before.

Monster

“Y/N?”

 Monster

“Can I come in?”

You don’t answer. The door opens and you feel the bed sink down beside you. “I’m sorry.” He moves his arm, about to wrap it around your waist. 

“Don’t, Remus. Don’t,” You snap, pulling away from him. “You said exactly what you meant." 

"No, I didn’t,” He says firmly. “You have to understand that the idea of having children terrifies me. What I meant was, I don’t want to bring someone into this world, knowing they’re gonna have to go through everything I have.” He places a hand on your thigh. “I’m sorry." 

You pause for a moment before uttering, just above a whisper, "If I told you I was pregnant, would you love our child unconditionally?" 

 You feel him tense up next to you slightly. "Of course.” He kisses the top of your head. “Are you telling me you’re pregnant, though?”

 You close your eyes, letting another tear slip out, and nod. 

 "Y/N, please, stop crying,“ Remus cups your face in his hands and wipes away the drops sliding down your cheeks. "Honestly, you’re breaking my heart.” You let out a light giggle at this. “Yes, I’m nervous, but I promise you, I will love our baby with my entire heart; maybe even more than I love you,” He chuckles. “I’m just- I’m so sorry." 

You finally let him take you in his arms. The two of you lay down and he places his hand on your tummy, rubbing it every now and then. A strange little family.