shoulder brush

“Aries:
The heat inside you is within your head, a brain like a wildfire and a touch to match. Don’t let your thoughts burn you alive, don’t let people tell you you’re too lively. After all, fire is alive. Unleash it, don’t cage it; it will destroy you.
And I know you own a touch of self destruction, but your fire is not to be dimmed. Don’t let the fire run over your skin and burn you alive, burns will fade but scars will stay. You’re lovable.

Taurus:
The earthy complexion of you is in your throat, your words are calm and your voice makes others find solace within. You easily lull others to sleep, a voice for the screens. Words may tumble of your lips so effortlessly, and earth is oh so rational but look out; earthquakes don’t come with a time ticket.

Gemini:
The air gushes within your arms. Light feather swift movements, an arm around a friends shoulders. You may balance your plates so well, but watch out for obstacles, you don’t want to drop it all. A hug from you may feel like a breeze, you bring solace with a shoulder brush.

Cancer:
Water runs through your hands, a pencil that you know a bit too well. Pen on paper for another soul wrenching piece, maybe your fingers stray the strings of a guitar. You are the rivers, but also the sea; you’re unpredictable and that’s what makes you so dangerously beautiful.

Leo:
Your fire lies in your heart, conflagration. You burn and sow through forests of minds, don’t let anyone eliminate your spark. You’re a leader with twinkling eyes and vodka felt veins. A complexion of ancient treasure, don’t be so hard on yourself. You feel so much, don’t let the fire take you over, but don’t let anyone make it die.

Virgo:
You have earth in your stomach, hands that make dishes to fall in love with. You love food, your gut always tells you what you have to do. Listen, if your gut tells you that something is wrong than please, listen.

Libra:
Air runs through your kidneys, salt and something to let go of. A harmonious cycle with other organs. You create harmony, you let things go. Don’t drink too much water, don’t let people influence you in what to do, salty tears will spill too much. Don’t make yourself stop crying, you will ache too much; let it go.

Scorpio:
Water churns through the pelvis, a heated lover. A compassionate person, someone who needs affection and is intrigued with the dark underlaying nature of humans and human existence. Know you are never to be replaced, for it’s you who will kiss the eyelids of your lover. You trace outlines of constellations on freckles, and it may be imperfect but find someone who looks at you in a way that makes you think perfection isn’t needed, someone who looks at you like are enough. You are enough.

Sagittarius:
Fire swirls through your thighs, you have a wandering spirit with a mind that investigates every nook and cranny within your own world map. Your thighs are made to run, so travel, fall in love, and be heartbroken. Experience life, you’re worth the adventure. See it as a mission, and see yourself as goal. Find yourself, it’ll be your biggest travel of all.

Capricorn:
Earthquakes churning through legs made to walk and hike mountains, you may not love sports but you are made to climb. Climb the obstacles and mountains of your life, you have to overcome it. Work hard. You’re enough.

Aquarius:
Air swirls inside your ankles, your made to stand up. Stand up for yourself, for crowds, for others. Stand in front of people, tell your ideas. Stand up. You have a voice, don’t let it falter.

Pisces:
Your feet run on waters, a waterfront of imagination. Don’t run away from your problems love, yes your feet will carry you but you are not God. You need others, you can’t run forever, don’t get lost in your dreams to escape reality. Make reality so good you don’t want to sleep anymore. Live.

—  Elements in the zodiac

I really like the idea of Taako (and elves in general) having really long ears that move independently. Taako gets startled by something and the ears are standing straight up - Magnus realizes this within a week of meeting the twins and tries to sneak up on them all the time because that’s hilarious and also kind of adorable? (The twins don’t put up with that for long, and their retaliation is expertly planned and executed.)

The crew is scoping out a new world, or the boys are on a mission for the Bureau, and it’s suspiciously quiet. They’re all trying to listen for the noise of a nearby enemy and one of Taako’s ears perks up, swivels, and then lowers again while the other perks up instead. He doesn’t even know he’s doing it. The ears keep trading places.

When he’s tired, the ears are droopy. Ren can tell when he’s losing steam at work by their slow descent; if he’s determined to stay awake, they’ll twitch up every so often but it’s a losing battle. When he’s upset - very sad or angry - his ears will be at their lowest, brushing his shoulders. On bad days, the ears don’t move much at all.

Kravitz is fascinated. He’ll play with Taako’s ears, bothering them into twitching in all directions until Taako finally has to swat his hand away because for fuck’s sake Kravitz you’re going to get a face full of this stew if you don’t stop that shit I’m trying to cook go bother Lup. Kravitz does not bother Lup because Lup has already put up with a century of Barry bothering her ears and that is about the limit of her patience.

They haven’t been dating for terribly long when Kravitz compares Taako to a bunny the first time after a few drinks. Then Kravitz won’t let it go, and Taako wants to be annoyed but it turns into a pet name. Taako has never been in a relationship that involved pet names before; he doesn’t know what to do. At that point in his life, he’s not used to someone liking him so much. He still puts up a token resistance but it’s hard to be annoyed when Kravitz sounds that… genuinely affectionate. If he thinks he’s calling Taako that in public or in front of anyone Taako knows, though, he can look forward to ordering take-out for a month.

The Most Important Story

I came out to my parents when they discovered gay porn on my computer while I was at my friend Nicole’s house choreographing a hip hop dance.

I was shocked because I thought they already knew but, I got a call when I was like, mid shoulder-brush, from my mother being like, “Where are you?” and I was like “I’m at Nicole’s house!” and she was like, “You need to come home now.” And I went home.

I can’t believe i’m telling this story.

Anyway, I went home after we finished the dance.

She drove me home in her Infiniti SUV and I walked into the house and it’s pitch black, and I just see the like back-lit shadow of my mother in the corner of the kitchen just like…

She brings me down and rather than having a nice “let’s talk about this”, she starts like bringing up, she starts like opening up all the websites and I don’t know what to do and I’m like: “Ew what is that? That’s disgusting!”

Meanwhile I’m like: “Yep Tuesday, yep Wednesday, Thursday I didn’t do anything, and Friday.”

And like my dad comes downstairs in his tighty-whiteys and is like “Bran, If it’s yours, just tell us.”

Well, hold on, hold on.

They found this like weird fax, like a document nobody recognized and I was like:

“Well, obviously someone hacked into our computer!”

And they believed me.

Imagine Andrew as a teacher

(bear with me I gotta get this out of my head) 

-Okay so he doesn’t go continue to play exy 

-But becomes a criminology teacher at Palmetto (cos Nora said that was his major) 

-With glasses and all that shit. His students have a love/hate relation with him. To put it mildly, he’s a complete ass but I love him 

-also Professor Minyard

-And mostly after the first class itself the students realise this- You do not talk when he’s talking or giving a lecture unless you want a perfectly aimed chalk thrown at your head or a “Get the fuck out or shut the fuck up you choose Avery” shouted your way 

-And you do not dare to make fun of his height. He will fucking annihilate you. “You think I’m smol small Johnson, have you seen your dick?“ 

-And yes he remembers your name and grade that fucker with his eidetic memory 

-And his students are terrified of him but have a lot of respect for this teacher who doesn’t look like an exy fan but occasionally shows up in jerseys or sweatshirts with “Josten” written at the back 

-So. One day this student has some work and goes to Andrew’s tiny office Imagine his shock and awe when he sees Neil Josten, Olympic winner, exy champion in all his glory sitting on Andrew’s chair with his feet crossed on the table 

-“You’re not Andrew.”, Neil says. 

-“I had some questions for mid-” And Andrew enters. 

-He stops when he sees Neil “Feet off my table. Now.” the disrespect ffs Neil  And the student’s just like do?? you?? know?? who?? that?? is??

-And the student looks over at Neil who btw still has his feet on the table and the student thinks “Does he have a death wish?” Neil breaks the silence and says 

-“I thought I’d surprise you.”       

“Leave”, comes the reply 

-And for a moment they both only have eyes for each other, leaving the poor sophomore highly uncomfortable 

 -And then thankfully, before he/she becomes a murder witness, Neil takes his legs off the table and smiles. Neil Josten smiles. This was the man who ripped Riko Moriyama apart. Who fought tooth and nail to get to where he was. Who’s mouth has gotten him into trouble more times than he could count. He fucking smiles. 

-And Neil walks past Andrew, almost brushing his shoulder while leaving and Andrew grips his forearm

-And everything but the two of them melts away. Nothing else fucking matters as if it ever did in the first place 

-And for a second, a fucking fraction of a second, Andrew’s expression shifts 

-And the student is in shock cos obvs Andrew teaches like he does everything else. With stone cold apathy and a tiny bit of disgust but still fucking brilliant. 

-And then Andrew says, “I’ll see you at home.” And then the student notices the “Minyard” on Neil’s sweater (Renee gave it to Andrew as a birthday present when she learned to knit and Neil wears it all the damn time) and understanding seeps into place. Neil leaves after a bit more staring. 

-And Andrew looks at his student and quirks an eyebrow.  

-By the next day the whole school knows that their criminology teacher is dating Neil Josten. 

-After that my poor baby Andrew has to keep repeating in the first class of every freshman year “If you want to be killed in your sleep or want to fail this class, try asking for an autograph. Oh and get used to death threats, you are going to major in fucking criminology after all.

Undercover - Jughead Jones

Hi! Could I get a Jughead x Reader imagine where the reader and Jughead are best friends, but the reader has feelings for Jughead but doesn’t tell him. One day she goes “undercover” to get info about Jason’s death for Jughead and he sees her undercover and realizes he has feelings for her, and then there’s some rated T action and fluff between them? Thanks!

I kinda twisted the meaning of it but it lead to *high pitched screaming*

Originally posted by squintlovely


Being best friends with Jughead Jones isn’t the easiest thing in the world. He’s not the friendliest person to begin with, but some can easily look past that, like yourself. You and Jughead had been close every since you could remember, but the summer before Sophomore year changed things. Jughead became more reclusive and less in touch with you. It all happened after Jason Blossoms’ death. The day before school started up again, you invited yourself over to his house. Needless to say, Jughead was surprised.

“Y/N?” He asked, the bags under his eyes telling you he must’ve just woken up. Despite the normal summer heat, he was wearing a loose sweater and sweatpants. Just seeing him again, after so long, made your heart flutter. You quickly pushed it down and regained your angry composure. “I haven’t seen you in months, Jug!” You said, obviously breaking him out of his tired state. He quickly pulled you inside his house, and you accidently bumped into his chest. It was so tempting to hug him, but you fought the urge and watched as he closed the door behind you. When he faced you, you saw how intense his gaze was. “I’m sorry about that, Y/N, I am.” He said, his tone serious. “I’ve been working on something,” he said as he walked past you, beckoning you to follow him. He lead you to his room then to his desk where an open laptop rested. Pages of text cluttered the screen and just by skimming through the document the words ‘Summer’, ‘Jason Blossom’, and ‘presumed dead’ caught your eye. You turned to face Jughead who stood, unmoving, next to you. “This is what you were doing?” You asked, turning back to study the words he had typed.

“Yeah, ever since I heard he was missing.” He muttered, but you couldn’t help but be amazed by your friend. His drive and dedication to his writing was eye-opening. You faced him once more with a grin on your features. “Do you need help?”

Keep reading

Out of the Blue 03

Rated: M

Warnings: Explicit vulgar hybrid smut, knotting, dirty talk.

Summary: Jungkook has only ever thought of his breeding clients as just that - clients, and he’s always quite indifferent to them since he only ever knows them for a short period of time. But then you come along, and he starts experiencing feelings that aren’t being manipulated by your heat. Real feelings, that he has never harbored before with anyone else.

Notes: finally part 3 is here!! this one was really tricky. i edited it so much in terms of adding parts, then turning around and taking them back out and just completely removing an entire scene and replacing it with something that flowed better. ugh. i have mixed feelings on this, but it is what it is lmfao i mean all it is is smut so i guess it really doesnt matter. enjoys babes <3

Words: 6.3k

01 | 02 | 03


It was odd, Namjoon thought, at how comfortable you and Jungkook seemed to be around each other, having only known each other for a little over a day. He couldn’t even begin wrap his head around the way ‘natural instincts’ and 'pheromones’ worked between you two, but then again, he was merely just a human. Last night was weird and he couldn’t exactly say he liked it, as he slept alone again for the first time in a very long while, having to keep himself warm without you there being his little heater. 

The first night here was hard, but there was something about last night that was almost unbearable. 

He got little sleep because he couldn’t stop thinking about you, and how you were dealing with sleeping without him these past two nights since you had never done so before, but then he realized you were probably perfectly fine - curled up beside Jungkook, sleeping peacefully with the other’s arms tightly around you. His arms were probably so tight because he was probably afraid someone would try to take you away from him in the middle of the night while you two slept.

Well, that was if you even got any sleep, did your fevers subside long enough for you to get some shut-eye? Or were you two at it all night?

Namjoon shook his head in mild disgust, trying to clear his mind of the unwanted images that started popping up and he looked out of the window, down at the pool where you and Jungkook were playing in the water together. He watched on, a strange sort of jealousy planted in his chest. Could he really not even get one moment alone with you? He just didn’t quite know how to cope with that - didn’t understand how Jungkook could be that possessive.

But again, he was just a human. How could he possibly understand?

Keep reading

I came 🚶 🚪out to my parents 👪 when they discovered gay porn 👉👌💦💦😩😩😩on my computer 👨‍💻while I was at my friend 👫Nicole’s 👱‍♀️house choreographing 👯👯 a hip hop dance. I was shocked 😦because I thought they already knew 💭💭but I got a call 📞📞when I was like, mid shoulder-brush 💁🏻‍♂️from my mother 👩‍👦being like, “Where are you?” ❓❓and I was like “I’m at Nicole’s house” 🏡🏡and she was like “You need to come home now.” And I went home. Anyway, I went home🏡 after we finished the dance👯. She drove me home in her Infiniti SUV🚗🚗 and I walked🚶 into the house🏡 and it’s pitch black ⚫️, and I just see the like back-lit shadow of my mother in the corner of the kitchen 🍽just like… *angry mom look* 👿She brings me down ⬇️ and rather than having a nice 👍🏻 “let’s talk about this”, 🗣 she starts like bringing up,⬆️ she starts like opening up all the websites and I don’t know what to do 😰😰and I’m like “Ewwww what is that?? 🤢🤢That’s disgusting!1!1!” 🙅‍♂️🙅‍♂️Meanwhile I’m like, “Yep Tuesday📆, yep Wednesday…📆Thursday I didn’t do anything📆, and Friday.” 📆And like my dad 👴🏼comes downstairs in his tighty-whiteys👖 and is like “Bran, if it’s yours, just tell us.” 🗣Well, hold on, hold on… They found this like weird fax, 📠like a document📃📄 nobody recognized 🤔and I was like: ”..Well, oBviously someone hacked 😎into our computer!!”💻 And they believed me.💭💭

I’m thankful for the one year anniversary of 

I came out to my parents when they discovered gay porn on my computer while I was at my friend Nicole’s house… choreographing a hip hop dance.

I was shocked because I thought they already knew but, I got a call while I was like, mid shoulder-brush, from my mother being like, “Where are you?” and I was like “ Mmmm I’m at Nicole’s house!” and she was like, “You need to come home now.” And I went home.

I can’t believe i’m telling this story.

Anyway, I went home after we finished the dance.

She drove me home in her Infiniti SUV (boujee) and I walked into the house and it’s pitch black, and I just see the like back-lit shadow of my mother in the corner of the kitchen just like…

(angry/disappointed mom stance)

She brings me down, and rather than having a nice “let’s talk about this”, she starts like bringing up, she starts like opening up all the websites and I don’t know what to do and I’m just going: “Ew what is that? That’s disgusting!”

Meanwhile I’m like,“Yep Tuesday, yep Wednesday, uh, Thursday I didn’t do anything, and Friday.”

And like my dad comes downstairs in his tightey-whiteys and is like “Bran, if it’s yours, just tell us.”

Well, hold on, hold on.

They found this like weird fax, like a document that nobody recognized and I was like: “Well, obviously someone’s hacked into our computer!”

And they believed me.

Stripped Bare

Title: Stripped Bare

Author:  Dean’s Dirty Little Secret

Summary: The reader plays strip poker with Dean.

Characters: Demon!Dean Winchester x female reader

Word Count:  2801

Warnings:  canon typical violence, nsfw, explicit language, explicit sexual content, oral sex (female receiving), rough sex, unprotected sex

Author’s Notes: Written for @deansdirtyduchess Birthday/1000 Follower celebration. My prompt was strip poker.

***My work is not to be posted on any other sites without my express written permission.***

Originally posted by the-captain-destiel

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Harry and Draco were eighteen.

They were eighteen and the world was everything they didn’t know. The promise of a future once buried under miles of ashes rose triumphantly with newfound roots. The ache of the war gripped everyone’s insides, but to hurt was to feel, and to feel was to live, and there was so much life now. There was so much to live for now, so everyone said.

They were eighteen and to offer tight-lipped smiles to one another in passing was to say yes, yes, I understand, I feel what you have felt for your eighteen years, I am feeling with you, I am sorry. I am sorry. I forgive you.

They were eighteen and still not okay. With time to think came time to wander aimlessly around unexplored corners of the castle, to linger in the drafty and cold corridors near the dungeons where no one bothered to look for them. Tight lipped smiles. A small nod.

I’m sorry. I understand. I forgive you.

They were eighteen and alone in a room that was not as crowded as it had been two years previously. Every missing face was like forcing your tongue into the gap a tooth had fallen out of when you were a kid, but there was no tooth fairy this time. Sometimes it felt as if there would be no rewards for the grief engulfing them all like fire. It was unbearable to take a breath in this newfound utopia when there were so many people who suffered in order to attain it.

I’m sorry. I understand. I forgive you.

They were eighteen and to wander the castle alone now meant to exist quietly alongside one another, to brush shoulders when walking around corners; to reassure the other that they were both real. To physically feel the other person’s presence bring warmth to the gloom of the corridors haunted by last year’s events. They filled up the gaps with words, with small observations they never said out loud. Observations about the way one may have hunched his shoulders with his hands in his pockets while he walked, or how the other might wrinkle up his nose when he thought hard about something.

I’m sorry. I understand. I forgive you.

They were eighteen. They learned how to smile again, but it took lots of practice and insincerity before they started existing subconsciously. The first Hogsmeade trip of the year was punctuated with snowball fights alongside Ron and Hermione and pretending everything they bought from Scrivenshaft’s and Dervish and Banges wasn’t the other boy’s Christmas present.

I’m sorry.

They were eighteen and drunk. It was two in the morning on a Saturday and everyone else was home for the holidays except the two of them. There was a single bottle of firewhiskey between them, half empty, and they told each other everything they’d never had the courage to say out loud before. What if he came back, like the last time? What if there was still a piece of him hiding somewhere? Why did it still hurt so much?

I understand.

They were eighteen and it happened gradually. They were the shift from cool October drizzles to the impenetrable storms December delivered. Rain hammered on windows, and Draco’s heart hammered inside his ribcage, begging to be let out, jumping towards the one thing it had ever really cared about, and his lips met Harry’s the same way the seasons shifted from drizzles to downpours. Harry kissed back with all the fervor of a new convert, but this was no religion, this was better. This was Draco. They were a tangle of arms and legs and unexplored universes and hope, new hope, burning furiously and unforgivingly and demanding to be heard:

I forgive you.


@xx-thedarklord-xx dis one’s for u bc I talked about Christmas in it and I just love to watch the world burn <3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3 and also because your writing inspires me and you are all around just. Fantastic. Holy shit, wonderful. 

Teacher (M)

Plot: Maybe asking your Korean teacher for help wasn’t such a bad idea. Good grades weren’t the only thing you were going to achieve from that.

Pairing: Teacher! Jung Hoseok x Student! reader

Genre: Smut

Warnings: Oral (receiving), Moaning denial, just full-on hardcore Jung Hoseok the sexy beast

Note: This is probably the first time I’m actually posting smut. It took me quite a while to write, considering it was very long, and I need to be in a certain mood for it. Thank you to my friend for giving me this idea. Please forgive me if there are any errors, english isn’t my first language. 3657 Words

P.S. You are 19 in this, and Hoseok is 25. I do not support all that underage sex stuff. Everything here is legal (wrong – please don’t fuck your teacher no matter how hot he is – but legal).

Korean Literature was probably your least favorite subject. You hated just everything about it – well – excluding the teacher. He always greeted you with a smile, asked you if you wanted help. You were the only foreigner in the class, after all. He gave you so much special attention, and you wouldn’t mind it at all. Unfortunately, that didn’t change your view on the subject. No matter how hard you tried, you always got a low grade.

“Okay students, remember we have a test on the new poem this Friday,” His voice echoed through your ears, breaking you out of your trance.

There was a solemn look on your face, while you stared out the window. Your eyes stayed on the uniformed kids flooding out of the school gates, while your nail dug under the staple holding your latest spelling test together.

5 out of 10. It was better than the last one.

No matter how bad it got, you always had this urge to try. You always wanted to keep studying for a higher score, but you just never seemed to understand everything that was thrown at you. It was like everything registered into your brain, but it never stayed – it disappeared, unlike your determination to do well.

As your eyes flickered over to the teacher, a nervous feeling settled in your chest. You now stayed after school for that exact reason. A few days ago, Hoseok had offered to help tutor you for an hour everyday until the test. It had been at least a week since he started, and you could safely say that you were getting better.

“Are you ready to start?” 

“Yeah.”

Keep reading

know it all — p.p.

summary : may parker can’t fathom that you and her nephew aren’t dating yet- she can’t wait forever, you know, and she knows it’s going to happen eventually. when has may ever been wrong?

word count : 3k

author’s note : long time no see?? LOL sophomore year is successfully kicking my ass but i wrote this and it’s semi long so?? 

   May Parker prides herself on a lot of things- namely, her stunning resilience in the face of immense adversity, and the way she just seems to know things. She can’t help it, it’s her not so lame superpower and she uses it on Peter all the time, much to his annoyance. She earns a roll of the eyes whenever she says something out of the blue, so profound Peter can’t help but contemplate its credibility for the hours that follow their interactions. She knows things, she does, and she knows that you and her nephew are as meant to be as her and Ben were- are, she chastises herself sometimes- and she knows it so truly in the deepest recesses of her heart that the fact that you and Peter aren’t together is something that goes right over her head. 

   “Peter, hon, when’s your girl coming over? I miss having other ladies in the house,” she says one day, interrupting the silence that had settled upon the pair  as Peter recited the periodic table of elements so naturally in his head in preparation for a quiz the following day. Peter loses track somewhere between lithium and beryllium or maybe it was phosphorus, he doesn’t know anymore, when he hears May call you that, his girl, and he shakes his head at her wildly. “What? What’d I say?” May points her wooden spoon at him, and Peter’s reminded that she’s Italian for the fifth time that day. 

   “May, she’s not- she’s not my, like, girlfriend,” he stresses each syllable the word carries, practically throwing his pencil across the table when he turns his chair to get a better view of his aunt as she prepares dinner- pasta, again, because she claims it’s the only thing she can’t possibly mess up. “You know that! Y/N’s been my best friend forever.” 

    “You realize you can be best friends with your girlfriend, don’t you?” Peter can sense May’s eyes rolling even though he can’t see her since she’s facing the stove with her back turned. “You two have definitely kissed. You can’t tell me you haven’t.” 

    Peter’s entire face feels hot when she says that, his hands clammy when he presses them together against his cheeks, placing his elbows on the table to prop his head up. “That’s embarrassing, May. Why would you ever ask me that?” He runs his hands through his hair and the gel is so terribly packed on it that the carefully prepared hairstyle comes undone with one swift movement. “We haven’t, in case you’re wondering, which I know you are because you’re nosy.” Peter feels the spoon lightly poke into his back, a playful warning. 

   “Anyways,” May continues loudly, “as I was saying before, your girlfriend should come over for dinner sometime this week. I’m making pasta.” She grins before placing a bowl of penne in front of Peter, his least favorite pasta shape. Peter scowls at the penne but picks up his fork anyway and shoves some in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully for a moment before giving May a thumbs up. At least she was proud of it. “I won’t make penne if you get her to come over.” 

    She knows she’s got him when she sees the slow, unsure nod start. He sticks his hand out, and May shakes it happily. “Only because of the penne. I want bowties. Please,” he gives his aunt his best, brightest, sweetest smile he can form, much like the ones that come so naturally when he turns his gaze to look at you- but May won’t bring that up just yet. “And don’t make girlfriend jokes in front of her.” His utensil stabs into the pasta as he thinks to himself, ‘cause if you keep it up in front of her, she’ll think I’m a weirdo and I’ll never genuinely get to call Y/N that, ever. Honestly, he’d much rather launch himself headfirst off of the Empire State Building than never get to experience kissing you, holding your hand, being with you in all those sorts of hopelessly romantic ways that he daydreams about regularly. He’s doing it again, slipping into that endless reverie he always seems to find himself lost in. But it’s okay. His mind is a chasm of soft loves and sweet words shared between the two of you. It’s a beautiful, long mess of a dream. 

   “You lost, Pete?” May snaps her fingers in front of his face, bemused. 

    “A little,” he sighs in that dreamy tone she recalls her own self indulging in so fondly in her younger years. His gaze becomes hazy again, like he’s on another plane entirely, but she lets him be. For now. 


    Peter knows he’s dressing up a little too much for just a friend. He’s spraying too much strong cologne and gelling his hair excessively and praying you won’t notice the fact that it’ll be dryer than the leaves in the wintertime, but it’s all too much for someone he insists is his best friend and his best friend alone, nothing more and nothing less, certainly not his girlfriend. Never that, right? Peter frowns at his reflection and tilts his head down, rubbing his head in attempt to remove most of the gel that had been a serious mistake in the first place. You preferred his hair curly, anyway. Not that he cared. Not in the slightest. He puts on the sweater that you once said looked lovely on him and he wears his nice jeans, the ones without that stupid hole near the butt cheek that you can’t really see unless you’re trying

   His cheeks flush when May gives a tiny, satisfied smirk upon seeing his perfectly put together outfit. He acts as if no time at all was spent on his appearance, but she knows him, like she knows everything else, and she knows that he’s been holed up in the bathroom for over twenty minutes now trying to see which shirt matched his eyes best and debating the chances of you realizing that this was the sweater you liked the most on him before he put it on and beamed at himself in the mirror. Maybe it was the color or the stitching or the fabric but he was starting to like this one much more, too. 

   “You look very handsome, sweets,” May says to him, squeezing his shoulder as she brushes past him to place a salad on the table. Peter surveys the salad with a strange look on his face. 

   “Why’d you make a salad? Since when does Y/N eat salad?” He raises his eyebrows at her, before adding with haste, “not that I don’t love your salad, Aunt May, ‘cause I do. I promise.”  

   Aunt May places her hands on her hips, peering at him through the tops of her glasses in a way that makes her look too wise for someone as young as she was. “I’m making a good impression, obviously.” 

   “You’ve known her for like ten years now, the time for good impressions is over, May. You missed your chance.”

   “This is the first time I’m seeing Y/N as your girlfriend, though!” Peter lets out the loudest groan imaginable, running his hands over his cheeks and slapping his forehead with great vexation. 

   “Still not my girlfriend,” he insists on insisting, taking the extra plates out of her busy hands and helping to set the small kitchen table. 

   May smooths back a loose strand of hair from his forehead with a kind, teasing grin on her face. “Doesn’t mean you don’t want her to be, kiddo.” 

   He can’t possibly argue with that sort of logic, especially not when his aunt hits the nail right on the head in that peculiar way she has a habit of doing, so he just smiles and kisses May on the cheek. There’s a knock on the door less than a second later, and the pair scramble for the upper hand before Peter beats her to it and nearly flies to grab the handle of it and yank it open so he can greet you accordingly, slightly out of breath with his hair flopping to one quite nicely and a joyous smile making its way across his mouth when he sees you for the first time that day. May hovers earnestly behind him, hands fluttering over her nephew’s shoulders so she can push past him to wrap you in a hug if need be. Sometimes Peter has the impression that May adores you even more than he does; he wasn’t sure if he should be glad for that, or a bit offended that you seemed to return the blatant favoritism with ardency. 

   There was a brief second where your eyes raked over your best friend’s face with soft admiration, hidden as carefully as you could manage. When you met his appreciative gaze you felt the palms of your hands clam up and so you cast your look back to his aunt and playfully pushed past him to give her a hug. 

   Peter, offense overriding his previously somewhat moonstruck expression, backed away from you when you finally turned toward him with your arms outstretched. “Oh, now I get a hug? Interesting,” he rolls his eyes in a teasing manner, unable and unwilling to conceal his little, loving smile that appeared when you pried his arms off his chest and defiantly wrapped them around yourself as you hugged him. “Didn’t seem so interested in hugging me when you were shoving me away to get to May,” he says, craning his neck to stare at you whilst continuing to drag the embrace out for as long as possible. 

   “You’re still my favorite Parker,” you reply, poking his chest lightly. Then you turn away before you can say anything else that could be considered too revealing of certain, carefully concealed feelings that had the possibility of being detrimental to a beautiful friendship that had manifested over the years into something more, but not quite, not yet. “Sort of,” you put as an afterthought, lest he get any ideas about you feeling… something for him. “Anyways, what’s for dinner, May?” You anticipate pasta, and when May announces the dish with a great flourishing of her hand, you grin. Typical, yes, but nothing if not welcomed. 

  Peter, gentleman that he is, pulls out your chair for you, and you let yourself imagine that he’s doing it as a chivalrous boyfriend and not simply a polite friend. He imagines the same, though. Imagines that he’s on a date with you and he pulls out your chair and smiles kindly and lovingly- and he basks in this image for as long as he can. May calls you over then, and the daydream is shattered. You make your way over to her in the kitchen, leaning against the counter. 

   May lowers her voice before speaking, “Y/N, I’m gonna need you to explain something to me,” she starts. You nod, raising your eyebrows at her. “Explain why you and Peter aren’t together yet. Honestly, honey, I just can’t understand it.” She talks with her hands the way Peter does. 

   “Uh- what? I, um, I don’t… understand?” Your voice cracks a little, as if having May practically shove your less than friendly feelings for Peter back in your face wasn’t embarrassing enough. “We’re, um, you know, like, friends.” 

   Her hand waves dismissively, pushing that sentence away. “No, no, see that’s what he said, too! I have to disagree. I know everything, kiddo, and I know that you two are going to make it as a couple, so if that’s what your afraid of, don’t be. Go for it. I see the same thing in him that I see in you right now, and that thing is love. So, I’m going to need you to go make my nephew the happiest kid on Earth and tell him you’re falling in love with him, and you’ll see that he’s going to say the same thing to you. Trust me. Aunt May knows all,” she shrugs in a casual manner, brushing her confidence off, before she steers you around and gently pushes you back toward the tiny dining room table where Peter sits awkwardly fiddling with his thumbs with his lip caught between his teeth. 

   “Hi,” you almost whisper, settling down in your seat across from him. 

   He glances up. “Hey,” he says, smiling again. A reflex, in your presence. He clears his throat, then asks, “So, what’d you and May talk about?” He knows May loves him as if he were her son, which for all intents and purposes he is, but he can’t be sure of her secrecy. He wouldn’t put it past his aunt to let slip “accidentally” that he liked you, loved you, cared for you. 

   You take a sip of your glass of water that Peter must have filled in your absence from the table. You had a tendency to take sips of your drink when in uncomfortable conversations, or conversations you felt nervous in. He notes that. “Oh, um, nothing really… but if were gonna talk about it, I’d wanna do it in, like, private?” You twirl your straw around your drink, mixing the ice in the glass. Peter abruptly stands from his chair. You watch him sling a jacket around his shoulders and throw one of his sweaters at you, which you catch easily. “You wanna go now?” 

   He nods, licking his lips anxiously. “No better time than the present, right?” If you’re going to confront him and crush his heart with a single sentence that stands along the lines of I see you as a friend, he wants it done sooner rather than later. He wants it over with, so he can go back to his suffering in comfortable silence and start an attempt to move past this crush the way he had easily drifted away from his crush on Liz Allan. You fumble with the sweater as you stand. “May, we’re gonna step out for a bit!” Peter announces, opening the front door of his apartment and letting you slip out first. He doesn’t wait for her response before he disappears, too. May watches the two of you leave and feels her heart grow twice its size. 

  You’re standing outside the apartment building ten minutes later in the chilly autumn breeze, thankful for the cologne scented sweater that rests over your body like a warm blanket. Peter’s hands are never cold, and so they linger outside of his pockets as opposed to yours, shoved inside the front pocket of the sweater he’s given you. He reaches for your hands wordlessly and rubs them over his. “You’re always freezing,” he laughs quietly, lacing his fingers through yours with a new burst of confidence that you find endearing as you squeeze his hands. “Hey, wanna know something? You might know it already but, I figure I should tell you myself, if you wanna know.” He swings his hands back and forth, and yours swing along with his. 

   “Yeah, please,” you insist, twisting your head to the side to sweep the windswept hair out of your face. One of Peter’s hands comes up to brush it out of the way, typical and cliche and an overplayed move but none of that matters when the action is being carried out, because it makes your stomach constrict in that funny way and your heart melt into a puddle on the dirty sidewalk. His fingers linger over the softness of your cheek, and he keeps his hand there to see what you’ll say about it. You say nothing, let remain there. “You gonna tell me or not?” 

  “Should I- I could maybe…” he sucks on the bottom of his lip. “Forget it, I don’t know how to speak properly around you like this.” You start to protest, demand he tell you because you won’t be able to stop thinking about this if he doesn’t, but every word dies before it can touch the edge of your lips. Peter has his head lowered down toward you and he’s kissing you, a thought that’s crossed your mind more times than you were able to count but now, it’s happening. Real lips pressed against yours feverishly, shyness forgotten in the heat of the moment. When he pulls away first, it returns and collides with him as if he’s hit a brick wall, and his cheeks burn red. He makes no move to back away, still. “D-Did I step out of line? Was that okay? Do you hate me? ‘Cause if you do we can go back upstairs or you can leave and then on Monday we can pretend that this never happened because you’re still my best friend no matter what even if it’s awkward-” 

   Your hands clasp together around the back of his neck as you yank him down toward you again, and this time you kiss him back. You can feel him smiling so hard it makes it difficult to kiss him, but when you break away to tell him that, he just laughs and smiles harder and keeps kissing you. He doesn’t know how to stop now that’s he had the opportunity. You’re both laughing hysterically and trying to kiss properly and his nose bumps against yours repeatedly, and it’s the most perfect first kiss in the world. 

   He keeps his hand firmly grasped in yours when you go back upstairs to his seventh floor apartment, opens the door for you and everything. May is sitting at the table, turns her head to the both of you and peers at you from the top of her glasses. Peter raises his hand and yours, triumphant. May claps her hands together as he, your boyfriend, declares proudly, “Aunt May, I would like to formally introduce you to my girlfriend, Y/N Y/L/N, who I hope will be sticking around?” He looks to you for reassurance, and gets what he needs from the happy kiss you bestow upon the side of his face. 

   “I told you two I know everything!” Is what breaks the joyous silence, and then the laughter starts again; a perfectly lovely family. 

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Dating Steve Harrington Would Include:

Originally posted by mikkeljensen

  • So much PDA.
  • Steve loves to just randomly put his arm around your shoulders, or hold hands. When you walk, your shoulders brush because he’s so close to your side.
  • He gives kisses everywhere; mouth, forehead, cheeks, hair. Pretty much wherever he can reach.
  • On more than one occasion he’s climbed through your window and ended up falling asleep with you.
  • He loves to cuddle. You each fit against each other like you were made to. He loves to pull you to his chest so he can be the big spoon.
  • He might not say it, but he also loves to be the little spoon. He tries to act tough, but he lets his guard down around you enough to let himself be held when he needs it.
  • He gets jealous when someone else is flirting with you, and in about two seconds he’s got an arm around your shoulders and a death glare on the unlucky person who tried to flirt with you.
  • He loves going to go see movies with you or just going on little dates in general. They range from a lazy night in or going to a party.
  • You help him with school sometimes, and honestly, at this point, you’re 99% sure he’s just faking it to spend even more time with you.
  • You’re like the only person that’s allowed to touch his hair.You love it when he’s lying down or has his head in your lap and you run your fingers through his hair. He falls asleep in about two minutes flat.
  • You give him little pecks on the nose and he won’t stop smiling for ten minutes straight. 
  • You hang out with the kids when he goes to see them sometimes. (He’s secretly a complete dork who loves to read comics with Dustin).
  • He whispers ‘I love you’ into your hair when you’re both falling asleep and you squeeze his hand and say it back
8

TOP 15 THE ORIGINALS RELATIONSHIPS (as voted by my followers)
1. Davina x Kol

 I was dead for ages, Davina, and when I woke up it was a mess of manipulation, and family drama, and a body I didn’t know; all this anger I couldn’t shake. And that very night I saw you leaving the church with this look on your face like the whole world was on your shoulders, you brushed up against some dead flowers… and you stopped… and you looked around and you brought those flowers back to life with your magic. I was dead for ages, Davina Claire. And you smiled, and something inside of me cracked wide open. And only then did I feel alive again.

Supernatural Preference #2 | PDA

PDA


Dean:

Dean was never large on PDA, that is, if he wasn’t jealous or intimidated. He didn’t want anyone looking at you and would make that very evident. If he saw a man flashing you looks at the bar he’d pull you off your bar stool and place you in his lap. If a woman was being a little too flirtatious and started brushing your shoulders with her fingertips, he’d come up from behind you and curl his arms around you protectively, looking the woman in the eyes as he places light kisses on your cheek and the top of your head.

Sam:

With Sam, it never mattered where you were, if he wanted to touch you, he damn well would. It could be small things, a hand on your thigh under the table or an arm around you in the Impala. But it could also be big things, he would pull you onto his lap or just brush the hair out of your way to get his mouth on your neck. He’d whisper dirty things in your ear to get the two of you out of situations you didn’t want to be in. And that’s all when he isn’t jealous. When he gets jealous he’s always got to have his hands on you. If anyone, ANYONE, so much as checked you out when you weren’t looking he would grab your hips and press your body flush against his own. He’d kiss you and let a small snarl leave his lips as he shot daggers at the poor victim that set him off.

Cas:

Cas didn’t understand PDA at first. He didn’t understand that touching wasn’t strictly something he had to wait until he got home to do. After he realized that he was allowed to touch you in public, he always did. He’d slip his fingers between yours and look off, trying to be sly about it. Or he’d peck your lips or face quickly and pull away, a blush still painting his cheeks after all these years together.

Crowley:

While Crowley loved to show you off, he wasn’t an extremely touchy man, sure he always had to have his hands on you somewhere. Whether it be pressed on the small of your back as he led you through crowds at extravagant parties, or an arm curled around your waist firmly when he introduced you to his friends, your favorite has to be when he placed his warm, rough hand on you upper thigh firmly under tables. It never failed to make you blush and feel desirable and Crowley knew it. He rarely kissed you in public as he didn’t want to “Give anyone an image of you they could use to pleasure themselves later.” The only real time PDA is allowed by Crowley is in his throne room, where he insists you sit on his lap. On many accounts you would sit and trail your lips along Crowley’s neck and cheeks as he spoke to his servants.

Gabriel:

Gabriel honestly couldn’t care less where you were, if he wanted to touch you he was going to. He already spoke freely to you as if no one else was there right in front of the boys. You didn’t mind when it was the sassy sweet talk or the passionate kisses when one of you saves the other during a hunt, but then he’d do things like slide his hand up and down your thighs if he saw another person eyeing you, or he’d whisper dirty things in your ear and start sucking the skin behind your ear. Of course, he’d always stop if you asked but he never seemed to like leaving you alone or not touching you in some shape or form.

for science

pairing: reader x jimin

rating: m

◦ word count: 7.7k

m a s t e r l i s t


Originally posted by parkjmzl

Absurd. Absolutely fucking absurd. It was 2am during finals week and the cafe was out of coffee? You had some colorful words for the person responsible. Dragging yourself up the stairs with sleep-ridden eyelids, you muttered curses under your quickened breath. You clenched and unclenched your fist. It was safe to say that your fifth espresso shot had officially just worn off. Despite the troubling rate of heartbeat and the fact that your hand was shaking all on its own, the subtle pounding of a migraine lingered between your temples in demand for something to keep it awake.

There was still a menacing stack of papers left to grade. If something could pull you away from it all, you would have been thankful. It was almost nauseating, actually, how much work you had yet to complete. Who the hell said grad school was a good idea? The urge to scream rippled in the back of your throat, tempting you to let everything out and just empty yourself into time and space.

It did you no better to return to the study room –the very cramped one that you had booked privately for the entire day– to find a regretfully familiar face emptying his bag across from your belongings. “What do you think you’re doing?” You felt lightweight as the angry jitters travelled through your body. The heavy door slammed shut behind you. It sent a deafening sound cracking through the library.

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  • ily: I love you
  • ilysm: I love you so much
  • icotmpwtdgpomciwamfnhcahhdiwsbittakbigacwiwlmsbfmmblwayaiwlianhaswlyntchnaiwhicbittsaiwhawftdsdmhihsuvaiwithaipbaijslblsommitcotkjlsbmdarthanltatsslbsslouatwaidkwtdailewittdmilytywtiddaafalmdcdihtwailb iiyjtuwhohotftlwfladnraiwlwoshiocatbm: I came out to my parents when they discovered gay porn on my computer while I was at my friend Nicole’s house choreographing a hip hop dance. I was shocked because I thought they already knew but, I got a call when I was like, mid shoulder-brush, from my mother being like, “Where are you?” and I was like “I’m at Nicole’s house!” and she was like, “You need to come home now.” And I went home. I can’t believe i’m telling this story. Anyway, I went home after we finished the dance. She drove me home in her Infiniti SUV and I walked into the house and it’s pitch black, and I just see the like back-lit shadow of my mother in the corner of the kitchen just like…She brings me down and rather than having a nice “let’s talk about this”, she starts like bringing up, she starts like opening up all the websites and I don’t know what to do and I’m like: “Ew what is that? That’s disgusting!” Meanwhile I’m like “Yep Tuesday, yep Wednesday, Thursday I didn’t do anything, and Friday.”And like my dad comes downstairs in his tighty-whiteys and is like “Bran, If it’s yours, just tell us.”Well, hold on, hold on. They found this like weird fax, like a document nobody recognized and I was like: “Well, obviously someone hacked into our computer!” And they believed me.
Saying Things

Peter Parker x Reader

So this is for the precious, most adorable person @dej-okay because she deserves only good things.

Summary: You’d lost count of how many times you’d thought of kissing him. You had never let yourself imagine that maybe, he thought of it, too.

“Or how badly I’ve wanted you like this,” and he didn’t have to explain what he meant…”

Warnings: None. Just A LOT OF FLUFF AND CHEDDAR CHEESE. Words: 3.6k


“Parker,” you cautioned as he not-so-gingerly picked up the beaker that was mostly full of blue liquid that resembled and even smelt a little like Windex, shaky hands bringing it over to your side of the lab table, mixture sloshing around the insides, goggles beginning to steam up around his eyes from how heavily he was breathing, tiny rogue hairs from fallen waves at his forehead fluttering as warm puffs of air escaped from the spaces between funny eye wear.

It had taken the two of you nearly half an hour to mix the contents in said beaker just right, waiting for the telltale appearance of that crystal blue to color the glass and signal the correct chemical change.

You’d both laughed excitedly as you’d watched with anxious eyes, two pairs of goggles level with the table; forgetting that you were still holding glass tubes and going in for a high five, catching yourself with a sheepish expression just in time. He’d offered an air five instead.

“Peter, carefully,” you urged when the clumsy boy caught a sneakered foot on the corner of the table, neon blue peeking at the edge of its container as it swayed inside, nearly raining down on top of the shiny black below it.

“I know, I know, I’ve got this,” a tiny smirk following his words, and you found yourself believing him despite the sound of glass clanking together as he began pouring that blue liquid into the compound you’d just finished mixing up. The puffs of air fogging up both of your goggles stopped as blue hit green and you held your breaths, the whole feel of him changing when that red precipitate formed in uneven clumps at the bottom of the beaker. Bubbly laughter spilled from his lips in a rush of air as the tension released from his lungs and the smile that lit up the whole of his face kept you from doing the same, kept you from breathing, and you weren’t sure if you would ever be able to bring yourself to draw air into tingling lungs again if he were going to smile like that around you, at you.

Because he was looking at you with the sun in his eyes and happiness making up the whole of his features in a way that warmed your heart entirely and made your body feel sluggish and uneven like the mess of chemicals in that beaker. The longer you looked, the more aware you became of how the color of your cheeks must match the color of that clump, and oh, but his eyes were glowing, and you were glowing, and his lips were pink and stretched prettily across white, mostly-even teeth in that charming way that only his lips could.

And that was the first time you realized that Peter Parker was someone that you could kiss. Peter Parker was someone you wanted to be kissing.

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