on his face and stomach

Unnecessary yet necessary information received from the punishment game for Quiz no Prince Sama!

So for the pressure points on the feet each member seemed to have some “unhealthy” or “bad” parts:

  • Maenu: eyes, liver, stomach (says he has a weak stomach)
  • Tattsun: liver, eyes, his attitude???, stomach (said he got stomach ulcers before)
  • Morikubo: eyes, shoulders, back, lymph nodes, poor blood circulation to fingers and feet, organs
  • Shoutan: his head (he said it himself that he isn’t the smartest, we still love you Shoutan~~~), lymph nodes
The Many Uses of Modern Technology

Originally posted by themegalosaurus

Jared Padalecki x Reader

Summary: Imagine being actress who’s having an affair with Jared. Your relationship is revealed when sex tapes are released.

Warnings: Cheating (kind of), graphic descriptions of sex tapes, filth, public humiliation


Ding.

It’s just after four in the morning when you hear the first message. The soft tone of your phone wakes you from a shallow sleep, but only for a second before drifting off again.

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A dragon’s treasure

Prompt: Metalicana interacting with the twins by @ninja-status

Word count: 2k

Summary: Metalicana is asked to babysit the twins. It’ll be a piece of cake, right? RIGHT?! Modern-AU; Human!Metalicana.

FFnet

After three knocks to the door, only one thought crossed his mind unrelentlessly.

How had he agreed to this?

The door swung open and he looked down to be met with two hazel eyes and a bright smile.

Oh, right. It’s all the brat’s fault.

“Welcome, Metalicana,” Levy greeted him in her singsong voice and he sighed in defeat.

“Where are they?” His gruff voice and dark appearance could have scared the bravest warrior but did nothing to her. Instead, she smiled again and stepped aside to let him come inside the house.

Yeap, it’s the brat’s fault for falling for the ballsiest and cutest woman in the whole world. Don’t get him wrong; he loves his daughter-in-law, she seemed to be the only one able to keep his son in line and she was the main reason the brat cut his connections with the dark businesses he got involved in when he was young.

Still, it didn’t explain why Metalicana had to bear with the consequences of his son’s choices.

“They are in the living room watching a movie. Come on in.” She closed the door once he stepped inside and he couldn’t help but scrunch his nose at the fruity and floral scent that wafted through each corner of the house.

“Hey Pops,” Gajeel greeted his father when he came into view and- wait, did he just smiled at him?! Was Gajeel actually happy to see his old man?!

“Brat,” he greeted back and couldn’t keep the faint smile off his face at seeing his son so damn happy. Yeah, this tiny blue haired woman was changing Gajeel’s life and Metalicana hoped it would be for the better.

“Hey Lev, could ya help me with the tie?”

“Sure, honey.” Gajeel leaned down for her to be able to reach for his tie without going up on her tiptoes. With a quick motion, Levy finished her task and patted him affectionately on the chest. “All done.”

He thanked her and kissed the top of her head which earned him a cute giggle from the woman.

“Ugh, get a room ya two.” Metalicana rolled his eyes and crossed his arms feigning irritation at the scene.

“What? Ya want a kiss too old man?”

“Yeah, in my ass,” he shot back and both males grinned at each other.

“Now now, be nice the two of you,” Levy chided but before Metalicana could argued back a new voice interrupted them.

“Grampa?” Yajeh stood at the other end of the entrance hall eyeing the older man curiously.

“Come here, sweetie.” The five-year-old boy did as his mother told him and ran into her arms happily. She lifted him up with ease and embraced the child with motherly love. “Is the movie over?”

“Yeah, it was great! Can we look for our dragons next time we go camping?” His eyes shone with excitement at the mere idea of riding his own Nightfury.

“Sure thing, champ.” Gajeel chuckled and ruffled his son’s hair.

“We’ll need lots of fishes! And no eels!” Shutora added as she stepped closer to the adults. She eyed her brother with shyness and something akin to jealousy. She also wanted to be hugged but she was too proud to admit it.

As if reading her mind, Gajeel swiftly lifted her up and sat her on his shoulder. She laughed and hugged her daddy’s head to not fall off. Metalicana just rolled his eyes one more time at the family’s antiques; that many shows of affection were too much for him to bear.

“Why is Grampa here?” Shutora questioned noticing for the first time the older man in the room.

“He is staying with ya for a couple of hours,” Gajeel said as he gently put his daughter down.

“Really?” Yajeh looked up at his grandfather with his bright red eyes.

“Yes. Daddy and I are going out for a couple of hours so Grampa will be looking after you until we come back,” Levy explained as she kissed her son in the cheek and put him down. “So you better behave, alright?”

Now, both kids looked up at Metalicana with wide eyes and unreadable expressions. He started to feel uncomfortable under their innocent and intense gaze. Surely they might have prefered to be babysat by Blondie or by Igneel’s brat but according to Levy they were unavailable for the night. So now, the twins were stuck with him and they were probably going to throw a tantrum about them not wanting to spend time with their grandfather.

“Awesome!”

What?!

Keep reading

See Yeh Break

Harry X Reader: Smut

In which you become well acquainted with Harry’s thigh.

Request? Yes:

riding harrys leg on a balacony overlooking the aegean on a sunny july day

THIGH RIDING THIGH RIDING THIGH RIDING THIGH RIDING THIGH RIDING THIGH RIDING THIGH RIDING THIGH RIDING THIGH RIDING THIGH RIDING THIGH RIDING THIGH RIDING PLEASE

Author’s note: The beginning turned all mushy? Idk what that’s about (Yes I do. It’s because I’m fucking whipped for mushy Harry.) but if the transition seems sudden, whooops. :)


This vacation is an absolute blessing. A week away from the madness and noise of fans and paps and meetings. From the moment the two of you arrived to your private little getaway on the coast, Harry’s been warm and relaxed, and you couldn’t ask for anything more than that.

Keep reading

Von (Hope)

Þar sem gróir þar er von.
Allt sem græðir geymir von.

Listen to [x] while reading.

-

On the night of May 2nd 1998, Draco Malfoy lays awake on his bed.

It’s over. He’s dead. It’s over.” His mind chants. But is it?

A dark, hooded figure that hadn’t been there a second before stands on the edge of his bed, Malfoy starts. He grasps for his wand before realizing he hasn’t got one. The hooded figure chuckles, voice acidic and cold.

“You cheated me.” It says, Draco is frozen in place, searching his brain for whoever this might be. It can’t be the Dark Lord. He’s dead. Draco saw him die today. It can’t be.

“I’m Death.” It answers the question he hadn’t voiced, the knowledge brings a sense of Deja Vu, but he can’t quite place it “and no, I’m not here to take you with me.” he fails to conceal his disappointment. The room feels colder than it had.

“You were meant to die today, in the fire, but you didn’t.” The hairs on his body stand on edge at the mention of it. He’s shaking before he realizes it.

It had been so hot, he’d been gripping Potter’s waist like a lifeline, the fire licking at the hems of his pants, his screams drowned by the roar of the flames, Crabbe falling down and being consumed by them like he was nothing. He thought he’d die. He wishes he had.

“It was written on the stars, Draco Malfoy. However did you cheat the heavenly bodies?” It drawls out impatiently, he doesn’t know the answer. Is he supposed to?

“For this, however.” Death says, swishing it’s cloak, bony hands showing “I owe you a wish. Any wish at all.”

Draco’s eyes widen and his heart picks up speed in his chest. Any wish at all.

He suddenly remembers hearing a similar story to this one. Every bone in his body advices him not to accept, for Death could only be cunning and deceitful, not giving and generous.

Or perhaps Life was the first two and Death’s sweet release was the last. Perhaps life had been the cruel one all along. He dreams of a world where he doesn’t have to feel all of this, where the guilt doesn’t eat him alive, where he never takes the Dark Mark, where war doesn’t kill hundreds, where he’s happy.

He realizes that even if Death is fooling him, he doesn’t mind the likely outcome.

“I want a time turner” he says firmly “One capable of going back to 1991.” If Death is surprised, it doesn’t show it, it moves it’s hands in a swish and a time turner appears between them. It floats until it settles on Draco’s hand.

“Act wisely, Malfoy boy. For I can only grant you one wish.” It says, the ghost of a smile behind the dark hood. Then disappears.

Draco clutches the object and adjusts the time. He wonders if he’s in a dream, if it’ll work. Maybe he’s already dead and doesn’t know it, he doesn’t mind much. 

Doesn’t care to find out.

He closes his eyes and is launched into the paradox of time and space. He sees a colorless void and falls falls falls. His body small and insignificant in the never-ending space. Just when he’s starting to become fond of the quiet nothing and the soothing air touching his face, his stomach twists and he appears in a room that he knows too well. High ceilings and cool toned ancient furnitures. No feeling of home or coziness despite belonging to a child.

His childhood bedroom. If one could call it that.

He looks at the clock with a sharp twist and beneath the time, it reveals the date.

July 31st of 1991.

He almost can’t believe he has succeeded, but can’t dwell on his fear and excitement too long, for a small boy whom he knows too well and not at all stands at the foot of his bed, staring at him in horror. It’s a shock, seeing himself so full of life in the innocence of a child who doesn’t know what the future entails. A child with eager eyes and a prideful chest. Malfoy realizes he’s a ghost of what this child is.

“Who are you?” The small one shrieks. Draco presses a finger to his lips, shushing him. He’s grateful that the Manor is big enough for them not to be heard.

“I’m you. From the future.” young Draco flinches back and is about to start shouting again, before he seems to take in Draco’s features and connects them to an older version of himself. His eyes widen and Draco can see himself panic and glance around frantically, although also subtly, for an escape.

Slytherins. He thinks fondly.

“That’s not possible. Why-how are you here?” He demands.

“I have a story to tell you. But the first thing you need to know.” He swallows a lump in his throat “is that today you will be meeting a boy as you get fitted for your Hogwarts robes. I want you to change what you will say to him, for it’ll change how he sees you. It is extremely important that you do so.”

“Why? What do you mean? I don’t understand.” young Draco looks even more confused, of course he is.

Draco explains as much as he can and sugar coats what a child shouldn’t have to know. He attempts to explain to his own self that the opinions of his father are wrong, the small Draco tries to protest, but he doesn’t allow him to and continues telling him what’ll happen if he doesn’t listen carefully. By the end, his voice is hoarse and little Draco looks sick with fear. But he nods, seemingly understanding he has a duty to perform even if he doesn’t quite understand all of it it. Ah, the usual Malfoy, accepting what’s presented to him, born to please his elders, he thinks bitterly.

“Who’ll be the boy I’ll meet today?” His younger self asks tentatively when Draco is done talking and stands up. Draco smiles nostalgically as he adjusts the time again.

“I have put my faith in you, what you choose to do from now can change everything.” He says, and just as he feels the void sucking him in again, he says his last words to the last hope he’s got.

“And Draco, one last thing.” the kid nods “offer him your hand before you learn his name.”

-

where things grow, there is hope,
all that heals has hope.
 

Writing is Hard, part 7: The Shower

Summary: Dean doesn’t appreciate the story you write about your first time.

Read Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Warning: Smut, awkward sex gone wrong (but it gets fixed!)

Word Count: 3000ish

A/N: This is all written with love for fan fic. I’m teasing, not putting it down in any way. Hope you enjoy! (Sorry, tag list is closed!) XOXO


It’s a little sweaty when you wake up. Dean’s on his stomach with his face turned away from you, snoring a tiny bit, his body sprawling over the king-sized bed and leaving you curled up in one tiny little corner.

He does look good, though. The sunlight can’t get through the curtains, but you left a lamp on, and the muscles of his back are all exposed in the dim light. You lean up to get a better view and appreciate him fully, and instantly groan. Your muscles hurt. Apparently, you’ve been curled up in knots all night, and you desperately need to stretch out.

Keep reading

Dean Thinks You’re Hot

Title: Dean Thinks You’re Hot

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Word Count: 2,122

Anon Request: you think you could write one where the reader feels insecure about her stretch marks/size and Jensen is her best friend and tries to help her feel better?

Warnings: Negative Thoughts, Low Self-Esteem, Fluff, Implied Smut

A/N: Feedback is always appreciated, friends! xoxox

x

Your name: submit What is this?


    Pacing back and forth around your trailer almost drove you dizzy. Back and forth. Back and forth; as if that was going to simultaneously solve all of your problems. It wasn’t. Not even close.

    You had just gotten the memo that your intimate scene with Jensen was moved to today, not that you weren’t sweating buckets the second you got the script, but the fact that the scene was moved to today instead of five days from now had you ripping your hair from your head. You were going to be very exposed to him, and no matter how long the two of you had been friends, this was something you weren’t comfortable with on so many levels.

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anonymous asked:

Simon and Jace bonding over the horror of interrupting Magnus and Alec?

this is hilarious cause you sent me this 2 weeks ago and now it’s so relevant

at first it’s just slight interruptions, because jace interrupting them doesn’t just end there. it doesn’t end after he’s apologized for killing the mood and it doesn’t end after he’s finally settled into magnus’s space. no, it of course continues and it’s horrible because he just keeps doing it. they’re finally kissing and magnus’s weight against alec is so fucking sweet up against the front door. it’s everything he’s been craving, his fingers sinking deep into the muscles around magnus’s shoulder blades. magnus is kissing him like all of that anticipation rolling under alec’s skin, all stormy, is reciprocated, mirror image. and just as alec’s lips part, a low sound thick in his throat as he slides his hands down, pressing magnus closer… someone clears their throat.

alec goes still very slowly and as he does magnus gets the hint and pulls off of him. and it takes a minute but they glance over and there’s jace, with that same perturbed look on his face. “i’ve got to…” he points towards the door. and alec feels his jaw tensing up before it actually does. magnus makes a low noise of understanding, raising his brows and pulls away to open the door, letting jace through and alec just licks his lips, reaching up to rub at his forehead, trying not to allow the annoyance rumbling through him to take hold. but it does anyway and he shoots jace a glare as his blond brother heads through the door. magnus has this look on his face like he just swallowed sour milk and alec lets out a heavy sigh before he reaches out to try and pull magnus back in.

but magnus just chuckles, taking alec’s fingers and squeezing them. “i think the mood has been sufficiently killed.”

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Soulmate AU where your soulmark doesn't only symbolise your soulmate, but also how you'll realise that they are your soulmate. (because unlike the romace novels it isn't always "bond" at first sight, sometimes it takes YEARS to discover what was there all along). Now imagine Stiles so obsessed with his very-much everlasting state of virginity because of his bite mark on his chest and HELLO what else could that mean. (part 2 in the next ask)

Part 2: Or imagine derek trying everything to get rid of his mark, because the bullet shaped mark was the reason his young naive self approached the argents, and KATE, in the first place. And we all know how that went.

The water was cold as it splashed on his face – cold and refreshing – and his hands stayed pressed against his face for a long minute, his eyes closed and a tired sigh leaving him. Slowly, Derek dropped his hands from his face and grabbed the edges of the sink. He hesitated before finally lifting his gaze to the mirror in front of him.

His eyes, blank with a hint of sadness and bags heavy underneath them, found the bullet shaped mark slightly to the left of the center of his chest immediately.

Derek had been five when his mom had sat him down and told him about soulmates and soulmarks for the first time. And because of his soulmark, it had also been when he was told of hunters and how he needed to be careful. More careful than any of his siblings and any of his friends.

He had been five and hadn’t listened. He hadn’t listened when he was thirteen either, nor when he was sixteen and approached the woman he thought he was his soulmate.

It had been years – long and painful years – and he had yet to forgive himself for that. He doubted he ever would,and looking at his soulmark made him feel sick to his stomach.

Keep reading

When Duty and Desire Meet Chapter 4

Art by @edendaphne , words by moi!

Summary: After their accidental kiss on Valentine’s day, both Marinette and Chat Noir have to deal with the emotional fallout of their actions.

Read on AO3
Read on tumblr

~

Valentine’s Day Part 2

“So, let me get this straight,” Alya said, leaning back against Marinette’s desk chair and steepling her fingers. Beside her, on a little table-cushion Marinette had made, Tikki slept soundly, having already heard the story a thousand times over. “You’re in love with Chat Noir.”

“You already knew that,” Marinette groaned from her chaise, hugging a cushion to her chest and leaning back like a Freudian patient. Lord knows she was about three sentences away from a therapy-inducing hissy fit regardless, so it was probably prudent of her to be lying down in such a way. She was preparing for her inevitable breakdown that’s all. It was the smart thing to do.

And she rarely did the smart thing nowadays it seemed, so she really needed this.

“You’ve been in love with Chat as Ladybug for like a bajillion years,” Alya continued, ignoring Marinette as she continued to rehash pointless details. Details which made Marinette want to bludgeon herself to death with her cushion.

It was most likely impossible to do such a thing but she was never one to back down from a challenge. Death by cushion- she’d find a way.

“Yes. We’ve already established that,” she replied through gritted teeth, said cushion slowly creeping up to cover her face.

“But last night you kissed him by accident,” Alya said.

“Uh-huh.”

“As Marinette.”

“That is correct sir,” Marinette wiggled a finger.

“And he gave you a rose and kissed you back.”

“Tru’ dat.”

It was indicative of Marinette’s deteriorating mental state that she’d said “Tru’ dat”. She’d never said “Tru’ dat” in her whole life.

“I see,” Alya nodded a few times. The fact her tone had remained neutral the whole time was doing nothing to help Marinette’s poor nerves, and so she swung her legs over the side of her chaise, sitting up to get a better view of Alya’s twinkling eyes. A sense of dread settled in Marinette’s stomach. Alya’s eye-twinkles were never a good thing, at least when they were directed towards her.

I see?! Is that all you have to say? Seriously?! I thought you’d be freaking out right now, I mean I’m freaking out but then I ALWAYS freak out. You not freaking out is making me freak out harder! Can you please freak out with me? Join me in the freak out zone already!” Marinette blabbed, waving her arms and promptly dropping the cushion to the ground.

Alya said nothing, instead choosing to raise an eyebrow at her and cross her legs. At least she’d stopped steepling her fingers, Marinette thought gruffly.

After a short pause, Alya finally spoke, but her voice wobbled and strained unnaturally, her lips thinned in a way that was entirely too suspicious. “Firstly, stop saying freak out, secondly I’m not freaking out because this is the funniest thing I’ve ever heard.”

She barely made it to the end of her sentence before she doubled over and descended into giggles.

It was in that moment that Marinette realised Alya’s peculiar behaviour had been due to her hiding her amusement, and she felt fully justified in yanking the cushion from its position on the floor and hurling it towards her supposed ‘best friend forever.’

Unfortunately, Alya dodged the fluffy projectile with ease.

“Come on, this is serious! I’m in hot water here!” Marinette cried, crossing her arms across her chest.

“When are you not though? Let’s be real,” the redhead shot back with a wry grin, twirling in the chair and kicking backwards to check her hair in the small vanity mirror on Marinette’s desk. The sight made Marinette relax a little. Alya only checked her hair with such scrutiny when she was seriously contemplating something.

Suddenly missing the comforting embrace of the cushion, Marinette flopped down once more. As her back hit the large pillows adorning her chaise, she let out a long sigh and all the fear, the panic, the fight, left her in one fell swoop. Only tiredness and uncertainty remained.

“How am I going to face him?” she whispered. Her head tilted towards her small, round window, to the afternoon sun beaming down in a total antithesis to her feelings. She wondered where Chat Noir was at that moment.

Did she cross his mind?

Over the years Marinette had asked herself that question more times than she could count. But it was different now. Now she wondered if Chat thought of her, of Marinette, not of Ladybug. Did he dwell on it- how they’d kissed? She had. She’d thought about it all night, until exhaustion had finally overcome her and she’d woken up late, cold, wanting something she could barely comprehend.

For years, she’d thought about what it would mean to kiss Chat Noir, Dark Cupid incident aside considering she couldn’t even remember it.

A small, involuntary whimper left her when she recalled the night before. The kiss had been an accident… at first. But the second she felt Chat’s lips press into hers was burned into her memory, playing over and over again. The moment he returned her kiss had ignited something dormant inside her and she felt raw, emotions exposed and unlocked, with nowhere to hide.

She considered her question again. How on earth could she face him as Ladybug, knowing what she did, knowing him the way he didn’t know he knew her (and god wasn’t that sentence confusing in and of itself)?

For God’s sake Marinette, it was a peck of a kiss at the most, pull yourself together!

“You’ll figure it out.”

Alya’s voice sounded lightyears away, so stuck was Marinette in her own musings. She jumped, a little sheepishly, and realised she hadn’t noticed Alya coming over to her until the spinning desk chair was pressed right by the chaise. The next moment, Alya’s hands were in her hair. Having thoroughly fixed her own short curls, she now concentrated on the silky strands of Marinette’s loose locks, braiding little plaits as if they were children at a sleepover.

Marinette let her. Two perfectly groomed heads were better than one.

“You think you can talk to him about it? As you I mean, not Ladybug,” Alya suggested, quickly clarifying her meaning whilst tugging the red ribbons loose from Marinette’s dark hair.

Snorting in response, Marinette couldn’t help but roll her eyes. Talk? To Chat? The very idea…

“Yeah sure, let me just tweet at him Ayla. Hashtag balcony make-outs,” she giggled, feeling a little better as her hair fell around her shoulders.

Foregoing the braids, Alya reached up and began tying something new into Marinette’s hair, tutting in disapproval. “Slide into the DM’s at least girl, I raised you better than that.”

They shared a laugh, settling into a comfortable silence as Alya worked on both sides of her hair. Marinette sat back and mulled over her options. Truth be told she didn’t have many. She couldn’t talk to Chat, after all it wasn’t likely he’d be back and she had no idea who he was in real life. The notion that she could talk to him as Ladybug, thus revealing herself, made her rapidly descend into a panic so sharp that she quickly pushed that thought to the side.

Really there was nothing else to do but call it what it was. A blip. A crazy alignment of stars which had given her a taste of everything she’d wanted for the past four years, a reminder that it was probably all she was going to get.

She tried not to let the disappointment settle in her bones, yet it was fruitless. Her chest ached as though a hole had been carved there.

Suffice to say it was a familiar ache where Chat was concerned, but it was bigger now.

“There. Done,” Alya pulled back, pleased with her work, and Marinette stood. Stepping over to the vanity mirror, she leaned down to check her reflection. “Matching colours for you and the bae,” she teased, eyebrows wiggling from underneath her rounded glasses.

Marinette threw the cushion at her again, feeling a smug sense of satisfaction as it smacked her right in the face.

At the very least, she had the Gaming Club that night, that would provide a very welcome distraction.

***

Adrien was on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

Which was ironic, considering he’d joined the Gaming Club to avoid that exact thing from happening.

“I can’t do this, I’m going to cancel,” he whimpered, hiding out in the bathroom a floor above their usual meeting place like the coward he was.

“So cancel,” Plagg shrugged, busy amusing himself with unfurling a roll of toilet paper- as per his usual hobby.

“I can’t cancel!” Adrien replied, horror struck as he gazed at himself in the mirror. His fingers gripped the sides of the sink so hard that his knuckles turned white. “Are you insane?!”

“So don’t cancel,” Plagg’s disinterested monotone was really starting to grate on him. “Honestly kiddo what do you want me to say and will it get me food faster?”

The resounding groan from Adrien’s throat was so despairing in nature that he was afraid he’s start rumours of a ghost haunting the building. He leaned on his elbows, burying his face into his hands.

Stupid. He’d been so, so, stupid. And reckless! Totally reckless. What had he been thinking?!

It was worth it though, a small, unchecked part of him thought. Adrien squashed it flat in an instant. After all there was no time to consider the fluttering in his chest, the pleasant swoop of his stomach. Now was the time to face the consequences of his actions. His incredibly foolish, totally moronic actions.

Because, although a part of him ignited, burned in the best possible way, at the memory of Marinette’s lips against his own, another part felt thoroughly ashamed. It felt like he was tricking her in some way. Granted that had never been his intention. His plan had been simple. Leave the rose on her balcony for her to discover. She’d never know it was him and be happy at the gift from a secret admirer. Obviously, things hadn’t worked out the way he planned, though he should have anticipated that.

When had things ever gone the way he planned?

He needed to apologise to her, as Chat, and he was going to do so that night in fact. But before that Adrien needed to pretend, he needed to lie, to Marinette. To the girl he loved. He needed to act like he hadn’t heard her soft sigh, felt the warmth of her skin and the taste of her cherry-blossom lips. He had to fake it, act like it had never happened.

He had to pretend he didn’t desperately want it to happen again.

The idea of being so fake made him ill, and so he placed his hands under the cold water tap to splash his face, allowing the iciness of the water to penetrate his senses and offer him some much-needed clarity.

It didn’t really work but it was the best he could do.

When he entered the Gaming Club, Plagg tucked securely inside his jacket pocket, he was relieved to see Marinette talking to other people. He could barely look at her, the meagre glimpse he’d gotten from across the room had sent his heart cartwheeling down the corridor and somewhere into the next arrondissement.

Not wanting to look suspicious, and fully admitting that he was stalling for time, Adrien wandered over to the desk where Nino was hooking up an old Nintendo console for one of their signature Mario Kart nights.

Mario Kart…Marinette…partners… sitting close together… oh no.

“Hey bro!” Nino chirped, offering Adrien a fist to bump, clearly not noticing how the blood had completely drained from his friend’s face. “Everything ok?”

“H-hey! Everything’s good!” The first lie of the evening. How could Adrien have forgotten it was a Mario Kart night? More importantly, how was he going to survive the evening now? Sitting next to Marinette, shoulders pressed together, watching her tongue poke out in concentration like it normally did? How could he concentrate on anything knowing how close he’d been to said tongue the night before?

Grow up Adrien! You aren’t some horny teenager and Marinette isn’t a prize to be objectified. Show her some respect already!

If Nino had thought Adrien’s reaction was strange, he didn’t show it. Together they settled into an easy conversation, Adrien helping his friend set up the old console. Focusing on such a menial task did wonders for his nerves. He was almost starting to feel normal. Almost.

Of course, just as he was beginning to relax, Marinette had to tap him lightly on the shoulder.

She might as well have given him a 1.21 gigawatt electric shock, given his reaction to both was about the same. If he’d been Chat Noir at the time, his superpowers might have actually propelled him through the ceiling.

“A-Adrien?” Marinette tilted her head, taken aback by his startled shriek. “Are you ok?”

Subconsciously, Adrien’s hand reached up and he clutched his chest, fingers burying into his jumper as if it would cure the frantic beating of his wild heart.

Because she was there, right in front of him. Marinette. The girl he’d kissed last night.

His eyes flicked down to her lips before he could help himself.

“Adrien?”

The second time her voice permeated through his cloudy mind, something snapped inside of him. It was as if he were a character in a film, once played in slow motion, now fast-forwarding.

“Hey!” he cried, louder than he intended, and the people around him turned to stare. He looked at her eyes instead, with far more intensity than normal, mainly because he was so intent on not looking at her lips any more. “Marinette! It’s my friend- Marinette! My good friend, I’m good! How are you? You good- good? Yeah, I’m good, friend. How are you? Did you have a good Valentine’s day?”

WHAT?! Adrien’s brain-filter kicked in far too late, but began screaming at him nonetheless. Why would you ask her that? WHY?! You know how it went! YOU WERE THERE!

Marinette blinked, and it proved just how far gone he was that he found her blinking adorable.

Her blinking.

“Umm,” she blushed, unsure of what to say and, honestly, Adrien couldn’t blame her. He sounded insane even to his own ears, and he’d just asked her something quite private. Actually, he was surprised she wasn’t berating him for it. Then again, she thought he didn’t know about her encounter with Chat Noir.  His words may have seemed innocent to her ears.

What a mess Adrien had gotten himself into, and it only seemed to grow worse with every bit of word-vomit he expelled.

(Was it bad that he felt a tiny bit of pride at her blushing? Probably. But he was going to hell anyway so he might as well enjoy the slow descent at least a little bit.)

Tucking her hair behind her ear, Marinette glanced baffled at Nino, whom Adrien could see shrugging from his peripheral vision.

But he couldn’t care less.

Because he’d just noticed her hair. Or, more specifically, how she was wearing it.

In place of the red ribbons usually tied into her loose black locks, were two green ones instead. Vivid green. Chat Noir green.

His brain collapsed in on itself.

“I’m good-good too.”

Marinette was teasing him. She was grinning and she had green ribbons in her hair and Adrien was going to DIE.

“Good! That’s good!”

Great. He’d always wanted to die sounding like a partially strangled mongoose.

Marinette, mercifully, took pity on him and waved a controller in his face, offering him a place in the first race of the evening. He sighed, relaxing a little, but only a little. Gaming was fine. It was a welcome distraction, as long as he didn’t sit too close to her he’d be fine (who was he kidding? Of course he was going to sit close to her). At least, when he was focused on blue shells and Bullet Bills his brain couldn’t fixate on the meaning behind Marinette’s ribbons, if there was any hidden symbolism he was missing.

Suddenly the thought of seeing her that night, of apologising, seemed that much more dangerous- forbidden almost. But he had to do it. He owed it to her as her friend. Even if that’s all he could ever hope to be.

Nino still hadn’t finished setting up, and a few other members began helping him in their eagerness to get started. As a result, Adrien found himself more alone with Marinette than ever.

They sat down on the floor, controllers in hands, side by side. Their shoulders brushed, like they always did.

Adrien swallowed, wishing he’d worn a t-shirt instead of the woollen monstrosity currently overheating him.

He was fairly sure he was going to lose the game spectacularly.

His fears were proved right when, later that evening, Marinette’s knee brushed against his own and he ended up sending Donkey Kong careening off the end of Rainbow Road.

It was going to be a long night.

***

For the fifteenth time that evening, Marinette called herself an idiot.

Because she was an idiot. An idiot for standing on her balcony, an idiot for hoping lightning would strike twice in the same spot, an idiot for following her heart…

Tightly wrapping her cardigan around her, she gazed out into the mocking skyline. The bitterness of the cold February air was nothing compared to the bitterness she felt building up like sludge in her chest. Bitterness in her fortunes, bitterness in her decisions, bitterness in her own feelings.

Distantly, Marinette thanked the stars that at least it wasn’t as cold as it usually was. She was thankful she had a tiny shred of dignity left at least- that she wasn’t freezing to death in the vain hope that Chat Noir would show up again.

She reached up, fingers brushing against her lips, and remembered.

Furious with herself, Marinette shook her head, as if the rough gesture would expel all the unwanted memories from her mind. Honestly what was she doing acting like a silly sixteen-year-old with a crush? Again?! It was desperate, obsessive, ridiculous-

And totally in character if she was being honest with herself.

She needed a break. A breather. A respite from her own whirlwind emotions regarding the man in the black mask, the man who’d held her heart for longer than she cared to admit to anyone- not even Alya.

Stuffing her hands in her pockets, Marinette let out one last frustrated sigh before turning on her heels and making her way back to her room. Maybe her room would be less of a reminder, would save her from her torment.

But, as usual, fate had other plans for her.

Because, of course, Chat Noir happened to be standing there as if he’d suddenly popped into existence.

The shock of seeing him sent Marinette stumbling backwards with a cry, tripping over a flowerpot and tumbling to the ground.

“Whoa!” Chat called, rushing forward to catch her just in time. One hand gripped her flailing wrist, the other pressed against the small of her back as he pulled her towards him.

For a moment, both of them froze in place. Chat’s fingers splayed across her back, and she briefly felt the edges of his clawed-gloves scratching gently against the fabric of her cardigan. An involuntary shiver ran up her spine before she could control it.

Chat’s eyes widened and he stepped out of their half-embrace with awkward, jittery movements, casting his face away from hers. “Sorry,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his head. “Sorry I shouldn’t have startled you. I guess I have a bad habit.”

Bad habit huh? Marinette had one of those too.

The silence which settled on them both was heavy, uncomfortable, and borderline unbearable. It was laden with memories of the night before, swirling around them, echoing in their minds as though they were standing in an empty theatre, watching their mistakes projected on a screen with no means of escape.

Because it was a mistake… wasn’t it? She hadn’t meant to kiss him, he probably regretted kissing her back. That was why he was here- of that she was sure. To think he was here for any other reason was just asking for a broken heart.

But, oh god, it hadn’t been a mistake. Not to her. She couldn’t ever consider it to be such.

Finally, Marinette could take the silence no longer. Taking a deep breath, she fixed a smile onto her face, painted a picture of a girl who had herself together at least a little, and placed a hand on her hip.

“No rose tonight?”

Chat’s cat-ears twitched. He peered over at her with a puzzled frown before he realised she was teasing. Something dark crossed his eyes and Marinette forgot how to breathe. The look was gone before she could concentrate on it fully, and she found that he was smiling back at her.

“Err, n-no. No. That is- I mean- unfortunately not,” he replied with his signature bow. “But I do have something far more important.”

“Oh really?” Marinette squeaked, inwardly cringing at how lame she sounded. She’d wanted her voice to be sensual and teasing, but instead it sounded like she’d inhaled a ton of helium instead. Clearing her throat, she tried again, arching her eyebrow for good measure and all the while thrilled at the fact that he was simply there. Chat Noir was there. He’d come back to her. “What’s that?”

“An apology.”

Marinette’s blood ran cold.

“About last night,” Chat continued, shuffling from foot to foot, completely unaware of how Marinette’s body, mind, and heart had seized up all at once. “I feel like I made a terrible impression. I- well- I’m not the type of guy to do… what I did.”

From the depths of despair and panic, Marinette felt the faintest hints of confusion. She latched onto it. Confusion was better than rejection.

“What do you mean?” she asked, her voice small and vulnerable, wrapping her arms around herself.

“Well I’m not really a playboy or anything, despite what the media likes to speculate about me. I don’t kiss strangers on balconies. I guess, I didn’t want you to have the wrong impression about me.”

When Marinette hung her head, Chat felt a wave of regret wash over him. He’d practiced what he wanted to say, over and over again but it never seemed enough to fully explain himself- not without revealing to her that he was Adrien Agreste and he’d been lying to her this entire time. He was too afraid of the ramifications of that- so he needed to end this now- before he hurt her.

Damn it, he’d gotten so close though. So close to knowing what they could have- what they could be.

But it was a fantasy. Chat Noir was a large part of him, but it wasn’t all of him. The person he was behind the mask was locked away from Marinette, was a separate entity in her eyes.

Who was he fooling? They couldn’t be together. Not like this.

He had to try harder as Adrien and if she rejected him he would simply pick up the pieces of his broken heart. He would respect her, be her friend, move on, and certainly not use Chat Noir’s hero status as a means to trick her into loving him. She deserved better, deserved the world, even if he wasn’t the one to give it to her.

That’s why he had to leave. Right now. Being here, being this close to her, was crumbling his resolve. Every cute gesture she made was another step closer to his damnation. He had to leave before he said or did something he’d regret, before his principles were lost to the wind.

“It was Valentine’s day. I guess… it’s easy to get swept up in the romance of the day, right?” Marinette said. She was smiling, but the sparkle in her eyes was dulled somehow. Once again Chat’s attention was drawn to the green ribbons in her hair, as she quickly tucked a few strands behind her ears. He couldn’t bring herself to speak as she grew distant, deep in her own thoughts, and her shoulders raised. “But if we’re being honest Chat, I was worried you’d see me in a bad light too. Like- I mean- I’m not the kind of girl who kisses random celebrities and I’m certainly not the type to blab to the press about it either.”

“I didn’t ever think you were,” he uttered, swallowing thickly, and a little bit of sparkle returned to Marinette’s eyes. Her cheeks turned pink again.

Chat felt his claws digging painfully into his palms.

“Well… that’s a relief. I mean I always admired you,” Marinette stammered out the confession before she meant to, quickly covering her blunder with half-truths. “You know you saved me once- from an akuma. You didn’t notice me at the time, and it was years ago, but I never forgot.”

Chat felt as though he’d been physically struck by her words.

He’d saved her? He’d saved Marinette? And he hadn’t noticed her?!

“I wish I’d seen you,” he said before he could help himself. The rest of his desires remained unsaid, as new possibilities, new what ifs, formed in his mind- like an alternate reality.

Chat inwardly cringed. No way in hell was he going to get any sleep that night.

“I wish you’d seen me too,” Marinette admitted.

Chat’s hand was halfway to hers before he yanked it back, his heart beating wildly, his mind screaming at him to leave. The pull was almost tangible, magnetic, drawing him closer to her. It was dangerous, and he needed to leave.

“I hate to be a sundae, but I have to split!” he laughed, high and fake, all the while cringing at what was perhaps the worst pun he’d ever made. And that was saying something.

Marinette didn’t say anything, but laughed once.

Ok, she thought, maybe she was ridiculous, but he was equally so. Maybe that’s why she loved him so much.

She watched him make his way to the edge of the balcony and something stirred inside her, the raw feelings which had sparked when their lips had met woke from their slumber, and she reached out to touch his shoulder.

“Chat?” her voice matched the soft tremors echoing through her body, and she tried to remember to breathe. She couldn’t let him leave like this, she’d been so close. “How about…one last kiss?”

Chat stilled, statue-like. His lips parted, and Marinette panicked.

“I mean!” she corrected, face turning to flames, “I mean sorry that was dumb- so dumb. It’s just that I- I liked that kiss and I thought- I don’t know what I thought- but I wanted to-”

His lips crashed into hers, and the rest of Marinette’s sentence was lost forever.

Chat kissed her, kissed her with a resolve thoroughly destroyed and a heart so indescribably owned; owned by her, possessed by her, consumed by her. His hands were frantic, and Marinette matched him in every way as they pressed into each other. Her fingers gripped the back of his head, tangled in his hair, and pulled him closer.

Like he needed an excuse to get closer to her.

The pair of them moved apart to breathe, great shuddering breaths, and then their lips were together again- as neither of them could stand to be apart for a moment. Chat’s fingers slid from her hands to grip her hips, a primal, dark part of him triumphant as he heard a moan slip from Marinette’s mouth.

They stumbled backwards, towards the wall, and Chat pressed her against it, hands roaming her sides- never going too far- always listening to her reactions. Desire coursed through him, a need to please her, to make her moan again, without pushing too far.

She must have sensed him falter, sensed his caution, as a frustrated hum rose from the back of her throat, almost like a purr of her own. Her hands moved from his hair, gripping the bell around his throat, and she tugged him down towards her, kissing his neck.

Chat was having a hard time not passing out from that alone, but then she rolled her hips, making it so there wasn’t a sliver of streetlight between them, and he was fairly certain he died and was reborn on the spot.

Dangerous was the word whispering in his mind, the word he was ignoring as his hands cupped the sides of Marinette’s face, tilting her head back. She arched into him again, countering his movements like a dance, and he gasped.

It felt too natural, too perfect… almost…familiar.

Dangerous he thought as his tongue flicked against her lips.

Dangerous- he thought as her mouth opened and he was rewarded with another moan.

Stop. Stop before you can’t, he pleaded with himself as Marinette’s hands wrapped around his shoulders, her fingernails scratching against his neck.

He didn’t stop.

They kissed for what seemed like hours, passion moving from an explosive force to one of slow-burning sensuality, settling into a rhythm that was far too natural, but neither of them could bring themselves to mind.

It was a long time before Chat could bring himself to leave her, to stop kissing her. It was addictive, intoxicating, and filled with promise. For months his heart had been starved, yearning and wishing, and now it was real. Their kisses were real, her affections were real.

And so was her voice, ringing out in the coldness of the night, in answer to his question, “May I see you tomorrow night, Princess?”

There was a pause, both of them treading on thin ice, ice which slowly creaked and groaned beneath their feet.

“Yes,” she breathed, and the ice shattered, plunging them both into unknown depths.

(art to follow)

this was tangentially inspired by naked ambiton, is my first “fic” in approx 47593 years, is both my first ever check please fic and bitty/jack fic so here we go, also i’m always on mobile so i can’t do a read more sorry

At first, Jack is a little weird about his body.

He’s not ashamed of it, per se; it’s more that his relationship with his body is complicated. Jack works really hard. He needs his body to be strong and fast. He’s constantly naked around other people whose bodies are also strong and fast.

He just, you know, doesn’t really want people to look at him.

All Bitty does is look at him.

The first few times they have sex, it’s rushed in the dark. It’s always been a while since they’ve seen each other, Jack reasons. It’s always a lot of pent up longing and only a little time for romance. Jack likes the feeling of Bitty’s body againt his. They fit. He just doesn’t necessarily want Bitty to see it.

But Bitty’s always looking.

It’s mid-morning and Jack is trying to sleep in on a very rare day off. His curtains are a gauzy medium grey and they let in a gauzy medium light. Jack’s on his back, sheets pulled up to his navel. Bitty’s eyes are closed and his hand is tracing circles across Jack’s ribs.

“God, you’re beautiful,” Bitty murmurs, almost to himself. Jack feels his face warm. “Truly a masterpiece.”

Bitty trails his hand trails down Jack’s stomach, sliding the sheets out of the way. Jack tenses, a small thing, and Bitty’s fingers still.

“Hey, Jack,” Bitty says softly, eyes still closed. “Hey.”

Jack swallows. Says, “I, uh.” Stops.

Bitty’s fingers start moving again, slowly. He hums, waits for Jack to continue.

“I just don’t really.” Pauses. “Ah, I don’t.”

Gently, Bitty curls in a little closer to Jack, rests his forehead on Jack’s ribs.

“I don’t like the stretch marks,” Jack whispers, eyes squeezed shut. “They’re ugly”

Bitty hums again, softer this time. His fingers trip over the worst of them, right on Jack’s hips. They’re a faded silver now but Jack will always remember the angry red they were, stretched tight and deep. He tries very hard not to twitch away from Bitty’s fingers but God he wishes, fiercely that it was night again. He thinks Bitty’s eyes are open now, looking, and he wishes it was too dark to see.

“Jack,” Bitty whispers, “Honey, you’re perfect.”

Jack’s breath catches in his throat.

“You’re so perfect,” he says again. “Strong, because you need to be. You’re so strong and so capable and your body is everything but–but ugly.”

Bitty sounds almost offended on Jack’s body’s behalf and Jack can feel a small tear roll down his cheek. Both of Bitty’s hands are on him now, smoothing over Jack’s skin as he places tiny kisses across Jack’s ribs.

“You’re everything, Jack. You’re everything good in this world. No part of you is ugly.”

Jack can feel tears caught in his throat and he tries to swallow them down, drown them with big, steady gulps of air. One of Bitty’s arms is tucked under Jack’s back, the other across his stomach in a soft sideways hug. Jack snakes a hand down to hug Bitty closer to him. Takes another steadying breath.

“Now turn over so I can objectify you from a different angle.”

Jack snorts, caught a little off guard, and doesn’t let Bitty go as he flops over onto his stomach. Bitty is laughing, tangled under the mess of blankets and the heat of Jack’s body. When Bitty finally emerges, pink-faced from struggling, laughing and bright-eyed, Jack is grateful for the soft golden light filtering through the curtains.

I think this is reading a book together? Yes? Ok. let’s do this. 

Keith’s old shack smells of wood varnish and old paper. Specks of dust shine and dance in the beams of afternoon sun, and Keith sits in the centre of his small living room surrounded by boxes. He flicks through a book and smiles fondly at the familiar faces that look up at him. 

“Hey babe! Can we donate all these crop jackets?!” Lance’s voice calls from the bedroom. 

“No!” Keith yells back.

“But they don’t even fit you anymore! And I don’t want these fashion disasters in our apartment!”

Our apartment. Keith’s heart thrums at those words. His grin blooms across his face. 

“I think I can make them fit!” He laughs. 

Soft foot falls announce Lance’s entrance into the living room. he lets out a suffering sigh. 

“Babe. Babe. Look. Babe look at this.”

Keith looks up. On the other side of the room Lance stands wearing one of his crop jackets. It reaches just barely under his pecks. The sleeves reach just under his elbow, and the seams at the shoulder look like they’ll burt. 

“There’s no way you can wear these anymore.” He deadpans. 

“I’m smaller than you. Not my fault you got insanely ripped.”

“Keith! You’re not 16 anymore!” Lance implores. “And your biceps are way bigger than mine.” To prove it to him, Lance runs up behind Keith and grabs his shoulders. He gently sways them from side to side and runs his hands admiringly up and down his boyfriend’s arms. 

“Bench press me, baby. I know you can.”

“Laaaaance,” Keith laughs. Lance chuckles and leans forward. His arms wrap around Keith’s neck and he rests his chin on top of his head. His long legs slot next to Keith’s easily. 

“Is it weird being back here?” Lance asks quietly. Keith leans into Lance’s chest. 

“Yeah….” He sighs. “But it’s nice… being here with you. Getting that sense of closure, you know?”

“Yeah. It’s nice to…” Lance looks down and spies the book in Keith’s lap. He freezes. 

“Nooooo way.” He whispers. He moves to look over Keith’s shoulder, and his arms tuck under Keith’s. He reaches forward and takes the book from Keith’s hands, flicking it closed and staring at the cover.

Garrison 2063 Yearbook 

“Holy shit…” Lance whispers. Keith chuckles and it rumbles against him. 

“I know, right? I found it while packing.”

“We have to keep this.”

“Absolutely.” Keith smiles. “Here wanna see something crazy?” He excitedly flicks to a page. A small photo of Pidge looks up at them. Hair cut short. Glasses comically big on her small face. 

“OOOOHHHHHH my god.” Lance squeals gleefully. “WHAT A TINY BABY.”

Keith giggles. “Remember how you thought she was a boy?”

“Look at this photo! You can’t blame me! Look at this tiny androgynous child.” They both laugh. Lance’s muscular forearms wrap and squeeze around his boyfriend’s stomach. 

“There’s also this.” Keith holds up a new page. Hunk’s 17 year old face beams up at them. There’s the mature eyes that Keith and Lance are used to, but there are traces of baby fat around his jaw. His trademark orange headband is also much brighter than either of them remember it being. Years of sweat, sun and being blown into space have since turned his headband almost a pastel colour. 

“Was Hunk ever small?”

“As someone who’s known him since we were 10…” Lance pauses. “No.” He laughs. “Dude could pick up most of our teachers from the time he was 12. I know this because I dared him to.”

Keith shakes his head. 

“I don’t doubt it.”

They continue to flip through pages. Some faces they barely recognise, others have been completely lost to time. They reach the staff pages and Keith and Lance proceed to flip off Iverson and the other instructors that expelled Keith. 

There’s a sharp intake of breath.

In the staff section, smiling up with a handsome face and beautiful dark hair is Shiro. Both of his arms are clearly visible, and there’s no scar marking his face. His eyes gleam with youthful optimism. Guilt churns in Keith’s stomach.

“God…” He deflates. “He looks so young.”

Lance squeezes him tightly. 

“He certainly… has changed.” He presses a kiss to Keith’s temple and brushes his fingers along a scar that courses through his eyebrow. Keith looks down to see Lance’s prosthetic foot nudging his thigh. 

“But so have we.” Lance smiles. “We’re all ok. Shirt’s ok now. And while things were hard…” He presses another quick kiss to Keith’s cheek. “I wouldn’t change anything.”

Keith turns his head towards his boyfriend. His mouth quirks into a grin and he presses a smiling kiss to Lance’s lips. 

“Me neither.” 

“Also…” Lance smirks. His hands hurriedly flick through the pages until he barks out a laugh.

“Can you PLEASE admit that you had a fucking mullet?” He cackles. Keith looks down at the photo and groans loudly.

“Oh my god, look at this child.” He sighs. “Why is he so moody?!” He yells at his 16 year old self. 

“You stupid boy, you don’t even know you’re an alien yet! No one’s shooting at you! Your life is great!” Keith yells. Lance howls with laughter behind him. 

“I think he’s mad…” Lance wheezes, “Because he’s super fucking gay for this handsome boy here…” Lance points at the photo of his teenager self, “But this boy thinks he’s an asshole.” 

Keith coos at the photo of Lance. He brings the book closer to his face and smiles dopily. 

“God you were cute.”

“Were?” Lance blusters. 

Keith hums. He rotates and leans into Lance’s chest. A low chuckle escapes him. 

“You’ve become the hottest and most handsome person in the universe.” He runs his hands across Lance’s broad chest. 

“And I cannot wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

The yearbook lies forgotten on the floor as Lance leans down to languidly kiss Keith until the afternoon sun slips into the horizon. 

baby, my baby | 03

Originally posted by kookmin

“Raise my child, just for twelve months”

◇ pairing: jungkook | reader
◇ genre: angst, fluff. parents au
◇ word count: 3.0 k
◇ author’s note: i will be updating this series every friday evening, 11~12pm korean time! i really hope you enjoy!

part onepart two part three part four (coming next week!)

Keep reading

Scratchy

No matter how many times Levi woke up to Eren’s hard on pressed firmly between his ass cheeks, or seen him come out of the shower butt naked and smiling, or even woken up by his tender kisses and terrible morning breath, nothing could compare to the rare sight of Eren still asleep.

Contrary to popular belief, Eren was always the first one to be up and ready to tackle the day- already dressed and making breakfast before Levi could even get out a throaty good morning.

But it wasn’t always like that.

Before Levi had gathered the courage to confess his feelings to Eren, it was easy for him to be up and ready before the sun even rose. After being the captain for so many years, he was used to being burdened with endless stacks of paperwork and countless amounts of bloody flashbacks to keep him up and running for hours on end. He had no time to know what it felt like to have a good night’s sleep. It was a routine for him.

Until Eren stumbled into his life.

Eren was this unstoppable force barging into Levi’s life, this ball of energy who tore his way into his cold heart.

And he loved it.

Loved the sudden change in his unhealthy routine. How raw and unexpected Eren acted when they were out on missions or in his office discussing battle plans over paperwork and dinner. Loved how straightforward and courageous he was when it came to protecting him. How unexperienced and curious his heart of gold trained him into becoming the man he was today. How eleven years took their toll on his body and mended him into a man worthy of exchanging his status from cadet to Captain.

Levi was reluctant to retire at first, but after the shock of Erwin’s death and exterminating most of the titans, he felt it was time to retire at the age of thirty-four and relinquish his duty to Eren. It wasn’t until a year had passed of Eren becoming the Captain that he got down on one knee and finally proposed to him. Not like he was waiting or anything.

Levi watched as Eren stirred in his sleep, letting his eyes fall where the sunlight beamed down on the golden band safely secured around his ring finger and feeling his heart swell with happiness. He continued to watch as his husband rolled onto his stomach, burying his face into his plump pillow as an exceptionally loud huff escaped from his lips and died into the fluffy cushion embedded with his pine scent.

The white comforter, which used to cover his body, fell from his broad shoulders and down to his bare ass, the tan flesh peeking out from underneath and sending a breathtaking jolt to Levi’s cock.

Ignoring his sudden hard on, he reached out and ran a curious finger along the dip of his lower back. Gliding them over his back dimples before following the curve of his spine while never taking his eyes off of Eren to make sure he didn’t wake up. Once his finger approached the divide between Eren’s shoulder blades and spine, he let his finger slide back down to where the comforter stopped and bit his lip.

Moving closer, he slowly climbed on top of his body and straddled his waist, careful not to wake him as he bent down and lavished Eren’s sunkissed skin in tender kisses.

They were still under the covers, so the comforter pooled around Levi’s lower back as he bent down and pressed his cold lips along the dip of Eren’s back, his calloused hands caressing his sides as he marked his way up to his shoulders. Leaving longer kisses in the curve of where his shoulders met his neck.

Eren hummed and slowly stirred awake, his head turning to the side as his sleepy amber eyes pried open and silently watched Levi shower him in kisses. “You really should consider shaving,” He quietly mumbled, startling Levi with his deep voice. “Your stubble is scratchy.”

Levi chuckled and smothered his face into his neck, making his stubble more noticeable as he rubbed his face into Eren’s sensitive skin. “Asshole.” Eren growled as he playfully flipped Levi onto his back, Levi laughing as he bounced beneath him, caged in by his muscular arms.

Levi smirked and reached forward, burying his hands into his long messy brown hair before reaching up and planting a soft kiss against his lips. “Good morning.” He whispered before Eren hummed and moved his right hand to caress the curve of his slender neck, gently rubbing his thumb over his sharp jawline before prying his mouth open.

Despite his morning breath, Levi let himself get pulled into Eren. Allowing Eren’s left hand to slither under his back and pull him to his chest, letting his flexible back arch into his burning touch. Tilting his head back to allow him more room, Eren went at scavenging his neck with playful kisses, leaving little nicks and pricks from his teeth every now and then in his pale skin.

“Good morning.” Eren spoke between kisses before puckering his lips against his neck and blowing hot air out, producing a loud obnoxious fart sound to be heard.

Levi squealed and pushed Eren’s face away from his neck, scrambling to get away from him while laughing the entire time. Eren chuckled and took hold of his waists, pining him down to the mattress before attacking his stomach. Levi burst out in a flurry of laughter and pushed his fingers through Eren’s hair, trying to get him to stop and away from his stomach.

“Eren- hahaha I swear…if you don’t stop that I’m gonna-!”

“Gonna what?” Eren mused, his eyes dangerous and mischievous as he paused his attacks on Levi’s sensitive and ticklish stomach and instead started to trail hot kisses down his abdomen.

Levi licked his lips. “I’m gonna…” His hands tightened in Eren’s hair. “…gonna…”

Eren smirked and disappeared below the comforter.

Fuck.

Dreams - Dylan O’Brien

Author- @maddie110201

Pairing- Dylan x Reader

Words- 4,944 (not sure how this happened ;) )

Warnings- alot of fluff and smut

AN: Ok so this is my first fic and i’m super nervous to post this. I just wanna thank @ninja-stiles for helping keep me motivated and helping edit.


Originally posted by teenwolf--imagines

Best friends are supposed to be with you no matter what, they’re supposed to be there for you through everything, always be happy for you and support you.

Dylan was exactly that. We have been friends since we were little, neither of us can actually remember a time when we didn’t know each other, but our moms tell us we’ve been friends since the womb. Dylan has been there for me through everything crappy that life has decided to throw my way, and I have done the same for him. But not once did I ever think that being happy for him would kill me inside.

Keep reading

He was right

Hellooo lovelies! Here’s something a little different. Really hope you enjoy! All the love, B xx

Originally posted by hryhoney

The pop pop pop of the corn exploding and turning into white crunchy popcorn invades his ears and the sickening smell of the caramel he’s stirring on a small pan on the stove top invades his nostril and make him roll his eyes - you’ve always been addicted to caramel popcorn and he never understood why. He always told you it was too sweet for his taste and he couldn’t eat more than a handful but you… you could eat it until the bowl was empty and you had sticky fingers and smacking lips.

Mixing everything into the silver bowl you said was designated to your popcorn addiction, he makes way for your bedroom, where the two of you are setting up to watch a movie for the night.

“What’s that smell?” You yell and you sound… disgusted. He’s ten feet away from the door and he sniffs, trying to find what’s the smell you’re talking about but still, the only thing he can smell is the caramel from the popcorn in his hand.

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// This fic is for the HQ!! Ghibli Zine! Thank you to the organizers for this wonderful zine!

Nausicaä AU, daisuga. Art by @i-like-to-look-at-your-back

Check out more works @hq-ghibli-zine !! Words: 3114

AO3

//

To A Far Away Land



”Mask?”

”Yes.”

”The flute?”

”Yes.”

Tanaka assessed him as he tightened the buckles of his suit and slipped his leather gloves on.

”All set?”

”Yup,” Suga nodded. Tanaka was quiet and tugged at Suga’s sleeve smoothing out the wrinkles carefully, as if lost in thought. Suga inspected his features a moment, and then flashed a bright smile at him.

”It’s all fine! I’ll be back by dawn. Don’t worry.”

Tanaka hummed.

”The eastern wind is strong today.” The he grinned: ”So bring my glider back in one piece!”

”I’ll try,” Suga laughed, and punched his shoulder, laughing harder as Tanaka stumbled, holding his arm.

Then Suga took the glider and lifted it above his hands, running upwind and then jumped, and as the glider took under the winder and rose higher, Suga hoisted himself on it and started the engine with a press of his sole on the start pedal.

Tanaka watched him go until he was but a spot in the horizon.

Then, with a grim expression, he turned back for the village.

*

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Tutor Me? ReggiexReader! Part 1

Hey guys, so here is part 1 of my mini fic. So this part is probably pretty boring, but I wanted to just kinda set the story up! Pleaaaaase leave feedback in my ask and let me know if you want part 2 or if this part is just too shit. Thanks darls. 

PART 2 HERE.

PART 3 HERE.

EPILOGUE (SMUT) HERE.

Originally posted by ryan-coogler

(gif isn’t mine!)


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