⇢ summary: according to the rumours, min yoongi is a bad apple- doesn’t take grades seriously, drinks as if he has two livers, a certified bad boy™. when you get paired up with him for a project, you’d never expect that someone like him would have a thing or two to teach you about life itself- and how it should be lived.
⇢ warnings: angst, smut
🎵 song recommendation: something just like this by coldplay x the chainsmokers
a/n: finally something that isn’t pwp????? :”)
races through your veins and fills up your airway, causing your breathing to
double itself, chest heaving in an attempt to calm yourself down. No, this can’t be happening, you chant
to yourself over and over. The clock on your laptop is glaringly bright in the
near darkness of your room, and the numbers burn themselves into the back of
your eyelids. When you close your eyes, the uncomfortable stinging of your
contact lenses makes your eyes water and at this point they might as well be
tears of desperation.
not like you’ve never had writer’s block before, you reason with yourself. You
just have to start writing and edit along the way. Your own voice of reason is
drowned out by the anxiety that echoes all the possible consequences of not
acing this paper. It’s nearly 4 am and the essay you have so far in front of
you is not enough to get an A, you know it in your bones but you can’t come up
with anything better either. You could just submit this as it is, but anything
less than an A on this paper would pull you down from the cusp of that ever
elusive first class honours. And you can’t afford to graduate with anything
less than that. The very thought of it sends a fresh chill of panic that creeps
down your spine and jolts your fingers into a typing frenzy, spilling thoughts
and ideas onto your screen till you reach the end of the page.
when you read over what you’ve written, it doesn’t make sense at all, just
incoherent rambling sentences strung together into a never ending paragraph. In
frustration you shove your laptop away from you and push back your chair, reaching
for your keys and phone. Sneaking a peek at your roommate’s still form across
the room, you let yourself out of the room silently, feeling your tensed
shoulders relax immediately as the cool night air embraces you with open arms.
a little chilly to be out in just a long shirt and sleep shorts, but since
there’s no one awake to catch you dressed like this, it’s the least of your
concerns for now. The balcony that is attached to your room affords a little
privacy, and it’s one of the perks of occupying the corner room on this floor.
The tranquillity of the cold, autumn night directly contrasts with the millions
of theories and concepts running through your mind, and any attempts at
clearing your mind are failing pathetically. The residential halls are eerily
silent at this time of the night, and as you glance down over the protective
railings, you consider how easy it would be to just climb over, just one leg
over and then-
night?” You whirl around at the interruption of a raspy, gruff voice sounding
from behind you. Your eyes are met with a figure clothed in an oversized
sweatshirt and jeans, but it’s only when you squint in the darkness to survey
his face that you realise who he is.
BTS’s reaction to their s/o having a PDA addiction:
requested by @pastelxxwitch (your English isn’t bad at all, sweetie!)
A/N: As I mentioned before, I don’t write NSFW, but hopefully I was able to do this request justice. I made it super fluffy. Hope you enjoy it, loves~ 💖
Jin: You have a problem, you know you do. It’s too much - you always go
too far. But when you get the urge to cuddle your boyfriend over a respectable family dinner, it’s not something you can easily dismiss. He’s looking so
handsome, serving stew to his mother, sleeves rolled up, shirt damp with sweat and kitchen steam - less like a boyfriend, more like a
husband. A husband that needs a barrage of hugging and kissing as punishment
for being so drop-dead gorgeous.
As he sits down opposite, you give him a look – the look – to let him know
what’s up. He doesn’t get the hint at first, so you inch your toes across the
wooden flood until you find his shape under the table, and give his leg a nudge
with your foot.
His eyes flicker to yours, brows raised in amusement. You’ve been
together long enough to understand what his silent signals mean. Translation: “So, playing footsie is a thing
we do now?”
You rub your foot up and down the inside of his calf, smiling at
him through half-lidded eyes. Translation: “Yes, it’s a thing we do. Starting now.”
Jin looks you up and down, totally distracted now. You’re winning.
Just a little more, and he’ll bend to your will. With
one last brush of your toe against his trouser leg he stands up, displacing his
glass of water, so that a few drops spot the table. “I just remembered that
there’s a bottle of wine I forgot to open. Y/N, come and
help me get the wine glasses.”
That’s your cue to leave, following him to the kitchen
for an emergency make-out session:
“Was there a
reason you desperately needed to disrupt our family dinner?”
“You were looking unfairly handsome,” you reply, “You needed to be punished.”
worst type of punishment.” You kiss him to prove you mean it.
Yoongi: Well, this is new.
Normally, you have to beg Yoongi for hugs in public – pulling on
his sweater sleeves, pulling on his hair, pulling on his ragged ends with pleas
of “Please, Yoongi. Please.” Then he’d roll his eyes, shuffle closer and drape
you in his warmth, with an arm around your shoulder while he mumbled about how embarrassing you are.
But today - today is different. And you certainly aren’t complaining.
Pressing his nose into your neck, pulling you closer, his hands fall around your waist, reaching down until they find leverage in the back pockets of
your jeans. Without you asking; without him kicking and screaming and making a fuss about it.
You have to pull back a fraction to check his cheeks, which burn
pink, just to make sure this is definitely your boyfriend and not some weird, alien replacement.
“What?” he demands.
You shake your head, and curl your arms around his neck. “Nothing…
I just though you didn’t like cuddling in public.”
“Then what do you call this?”
He burrows deeper, pressing his face into the fabric of your
shirt. “I call this an emergency.”
He nods. “I was running low on hugs.”
Hoseok: You fidget anxiously. It’s been three hours, fifteen minutes and
nine seconds since your last cuddle with Hoseok, and you’re beginning to feel cold
already – what you need right now is a hug, or a hand in your hand, anything
really, you’re not picky. But in the middle of the supermarket, mid weekly shop, isn’t the best place or time to tackle your boyfriend. Still,
his back is looking exceptionally inviting underneath that tight-fitting t-shirt, just asking for you to snatch him up as he stretches up to reach a cereal
box on the highest shelf.
As he turns back to toss the box in the shopping trolley, he
pauses, eyeing you up and down, and that’s when you realise you’ve been biting
your lip all this time, making heart-eyes his way. Not so subtle.
“What?” he asks, although he knows exactly ‘what’.
You press your palms onto the trolley’s handle and push it in his
direction so the metal frame bumps against him. “Don’t ‘what?’ me.”
His response is a chuckle. “Is it that bad? You need me that much?”
You nod, and he licks his lips, before glancing up and down the
aisle. There’s no one about. A motion of his hand is all the invitation you need to
dive into his arms, and drown him in kisses, hidden by the shelves of biscuits and crisps.
Namjoon: “Namjoon, I need a hug.” You hold your arms out to your boyfriend.
“What why? Are you feeling okay?” As usual, Namjoon’s
brain is spinning with possible reasons for this sudden request. Are you down? Depressed?
Feeling lonely or anxious? Whatever it is, Namjoon’s ready to hug it away, even if you are in the middle of the main street.
You just shake your head at his concern, your smile stretching
fondly. “Nothing’s wrong. I just love you. And I want a hug.”
That’s all you need to say. Namjoon’s face relaxes, his shoulders
sag, and he breathes a sigh of relief. A hug for love’s sake. Of course. In one
step, he’s by your side, wrapping his arms around your waist – not because it’s raining in your heart, or the sky above
you is crumbling down, or the very fabric of the Earth is fraying. But just
because you wanted it.
And you also – “Was that the first time you said that you love me?”
“I think it was.”
“Well. I love you too.”
Jimin: You have a new hobby: embarrassing your boyfriend in front of his
Jimin, who’s normally more snuggly than your bed on a rainy Monday
morning, forgets all about your habitual cuddling when he’s with his group, keeping his distance instead, and getting jumpy when you brush against him.
Now that you’ve figured out how much power you possess – with him
pleading “please – not so much PDA while I’m around my friends, I need to keep some semblance
of my masculinity”, and you cooing back “sure thing, my squishy mochi” – it’s
time to wreak some havoc.
The next time you’re at Taehyung’s house, you decide to put your plan in motion, pouncing on Jimin and tackling him to the couch. This should be fun.
“What are you doing?” His cheeks rise a couple of shades of red.
“Just cuddling like we normally do, mochi-wochi,” you purr,
settling yourself in his lap.
The other boys burst out laughing at your actions, while Jimin squirms
underneath you, trying to wriggle free. But it’s no use. Cuddling is
serious business to you, and there’s no way you’re letting him go.
Sighing, he surrenders, and with his masculinity in shreds, he
kisses your cheek as a form of peace-keeping. “Alright you win,” he mumbles, “Just,
please, no more ‘mochi-wochi’.”
Taehyung: You and Taehyung are tied together by the heartstrings. You have a connection that you can’t quite explain, and somehow, you both seem to know exactly
when the other’s craving touch - feelings so in sync, Taehyung needs you exactly
when you need him.
Today is no exception. You’re sitting in a café with Taehyung,
smiling stupidly-in-love over ice-cream sundaes, when all of a sudden you need –
need – to cuddle with him, or your heart might seize up.
Without a word, without warning, you slip out of your seat, and
rounding the table to Taehyung’s side, wrap your arms around his shoulders.
He twists his neck to gaze up at you, brown eyes blinking. “You
“Yeah. I just really needed a hug, all of a sudden.”
“Good, me too.” He grins, and you duck your head down for a kiss
on his unsuspecting lips.
With a smooth motion, he slides his chair back, making room for
you to sit on his lap, which you’re more than happy to accept, and from this perch
you have easy access to his triple-chocolate knickerbocker glory.
“Oh, I see how it is,” Taehyung scoffs, as you lick chocolate
sauce off his spoon, “You only like me for my desserts?”
“Opps. Exposed,” you laugh, and Taehyung leans in to peck a stray
speck of chocolate from your chin.
you kiss back again, he shivers below you, body responding before he can
control it. Forgetting the café around you, the hustle and bustle of baristas
and customers, you and Taehyung melt into each other like the ice-cream in your
Jungkook: Jungkook doesn’t like cuddling in public. It’s something you
learnt about him a long time ago, on your first date in fact, sharing
secrets with a game of ’20 questions’ - when he said ‘I’m embarrassed to
touch in public’ you had almost ended the relationship then and there. How
were you – one of the clingiest, touchy-feeliest people on the
planet – going to cope with a guy who melted into a blushing pile of mush any time you so much as brushed fingers in public. Even when you got him to
hold your hand, murmuring ‘Look, see? No one minds, no one’s looking,’
he’d still stay as stiff as steel, and snap your fingers apart when anyone so
much as glanced in your general direction.
Thankfully, you had discovered a way to combat the problem,
crafting the perfect date for you and your boyfriend – a public place where you
could touch to your heart’s content, without Jungkook shying away from the eyes
of disapproving grannies and curious children: a magical place called the cinema.
Seated in the back row, you can share a
bag of popcorn and as many kisses as you want, without fear of being watched. With everyone else transfixed on the film, you and Jungkook
can devote yourselves to each other. As the movie
heroes strike out on quests to discover new lands, you explore new parts of
Jungkook, acquainting yourself with every centimetre of exposed skin: cheeks, neck,
knuckles, the inside of his wrists, any part he gives. He relaxes in your arms, and watching him unfurl for you is
better than any film – he is your masterpiece, better directed that
Steven Spielberg. In the dark of the cinema, you fall in love.
this is for @ilgaksu because she had a bad day and we’ve been chatting spy au and she gave me an idea and i want to cheer her up. all those reasons
Running the surveillance van is generally considered the boring job, but Matt doesn’t mind it. He can people watch to some extent, and he has Neil here to keep him company in watching the screens. It’s quiet and requires no acting, which makes it preferable to being in Andrew’s position right now.
On Matt’s screen, Andrew is leaning back in his seat, cards held in one hand and a low glass next to the other. He’s pretending to be a Russian magnate with a taste for the dirtier side of capitalism and also for killing people he doesn’t like. He looks relaxed, swimming with sharks. Probably because he’s the deadliest predator swimming in these waters.
They’re well into the game in there when Neil says something low in a language that definitely isn’t English, and then, “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
“What?” Matt asks. He’s instantly alarmed, because it takes a lot to make Neil lose his cool – the last time he said something similar, he was bleeding out from a hole in his gut.
Neil is already on his feet. “I’ve got to go in there.”
Neil is definitely not supposed to go in there. He’s only here in the van because of a concession on Wymack’s part, mostly because they’d all believed he’d find a way to get involved in the worst way possible if he weren’t included in an official role. Things have gotten a lot more complicated since he and Andrew started working together, including the frequency with which Neil gets bullet wounds.
“You can’t,” Matt says. “You’ve got your orders.”
“Do you really think I care?” Neil replies. “Andrew’s about to get his cover blown, and I can’t warn him from here.”
They couldn’t send Andrew in wearing an earpiece because everyone inside was searched for tech, so the only support they could provide was watching like this. “How do you know you won’t get him killed storming in there right now?”
“What would you do if it were Dan? Sit in your ass here in the van, or go?” Neil asks. Matt looks away from the screen to his face, taking in the brutal determination with which he looks back.
Matt and Dan are married, but he suspects mentioning that might not be worth the air he’d waste in the process. Whatever bond it is that Andrew and Neil have, it’s probably just as significant, as close and as unbreakable. He says instead, “Who did you see?”
I’ve kind of had a craving for angry, jealous Dean lately…
Gator @salvachester - this one’s for you <3
You climb out of the back seat, tugging your skirt down
self-consciously. Dean is staring at your legs, his jaw clenched, and
even Sam swallows hard, then turns away.
“Does it look that bad?” you ask, worried for a moment that maybe
you’re not dressed appropriately to be an FBI agent.
Sam clears his throat, and Dean growls out, “You look fine.”
You straighten your jacket, lift your chin, and get into the head
space you need, a little condescending, a little no-nonsense, like
you’re used to getting what you ask for. Dean gives you one more
glance and, looking like he’d like to eat someone, leads the way into
the police station.
You and Sam trail Dean to the front desk, standing a step behind and
flashing your badges dutifully when the officer on duty asks if he
can help you. “What can we do for the FBI?” he asks, just a touch
of snark behind his words, and you can almost feel Dean’s thunderous
frown. He’s been on edge for days, and this day seems to be a bad
one. His temper has been unpredictable, his level of patience almost
zero, and you cringe a little internally at what his reaction might
“Is your superior officer around? Maybe the big boys should talk,”
he snaps, and the officer behind the desk stands up, all six feet and
at least four inches of him, maybe even a little taller than Sam.
“Listen, Agent Hetfield. We don’t take kindly to feds coming in and
throwing their weight around. If we can help, fine. But don’t go
making demands like we owe you. We work for a living around here,
You can almost feel Dean’s chest swelling, his temper ready to
blow, and you step forward, one hand on his arm as you push your way
in front of him. “Sorry, Officer – Thomas, is it? Please forgive
my partner, this case has him a little wired.” You turn to look up
at Dean, your lips tight as you speak to him in a pleasant voice,
aware that he will hear the anger beneath. “Agent Hetfield, Agent
Hammett, why don’t you go get that coffee we were talking about? I’ll
get what we need here and meet you outside.” You narrow your eyes
at him, the threat behind them clear.
“Yeah. Why don’t we just do that,” he grinds out, giving a curt
nod to the officer and turning on his heel to stalk to the door,
flinging it open without a pause. Sam smiles politely, then turns to
do you happen to know any genderbend viktuuri fanfics? I've been desperstely looking for them but haven't find any (゜´Д｀゜)
Okay, so these fics are awesome. I haven’t found many, but there are a few! Let me know if you’ve seen some more that I should add on. Enjoy!
(This AMAZING fem!victuuri artwork is by @frosty-haddock! Check out their blog! This art was posted with permission, do not repost!)
Welcome Home by boysblush, Explicit, 6.1k It’s been years since they moved in together, since their last Grand Prix, since they retired, since the wedding . All of this time has passed and Yuri still fangirls over her wife— the most beautiful and celebrated professional skater, Viktoria Nikiforov. LOVE OMG WOWOWOW
Words and Intention by euseevius, Teen, 3.7k Katsuki Yuuri’s life, from the first time she sees Viktoriya Nikiforova on ice, to the first night in their shared apartment in St. Petersburg. Great fic!
Our Garden of Delights by boysblush, Explicit, 3.5k Her and Viktoria have the whole day off, finally having the time they want to themselves. For Viky that was to go do some light shopping, but for Yuri, she just wants some quiet to catch up on reading. For a little while at least.
Hard out Here by Cornflower, Teen, 4.1k (WIP) “Who are you working for? Russia, the Mafia?” Yuuri blurted, pulling out her gun and pointing it in the criminal’s direction in one smooth motion. “Oh Yuuri,” Viktoriya giggled, eyes dark and pupils blown wide, “if I told you that I’d have to kill you.” LESBIAN SPIES AU DO YOU HEAR ME SCREAMING
[we] are unstoppable by DiAnna44, Mature, 6.7k (WIP) Vik and Yuuri make history. As the first ever female w/female pairing to enter the pairs skating competition. Things happen. Thumbs up!
Self Indulgence by Shahrazaade, Explicit, 2.8k It is a fact universally acknowledged that Katsuki Yuuri will take every opportunity to eat out her girlfriend, Victoria Nikiforova. Spicy!
вкусно by frangiblefealty, Explicit, 4.2k “I’m surprised. Greedy little поросенок like you, I would expect more,” whispers Viktor, and kisses her. In which Yuuri gets caught doing what she’s been doing for years.
Request: Hiiiii you’re amazing soooo can I request a lil thing like tom x reader are washing their hands and their hands keep bumping into each other and they battle to get under the water and there’s like tons of soap and tom pulls the reader’s hands out of the sink and they like “hand fight” and then it gets serious and he like intertwines their hands and then a kiss or something ??? ahhhh sorry lmao the things I think of super randommmm
Summary: You’re spending time with your best friend Tom, and your original plan was to bake together, but things took a minor detour.
“You are not touching anything until you wash your dirty Tessa hands,” You exclaimed at Tom while jabbing a finger at him.
Tom looked at you preposterously, then at his hands, before gazing down at Tessa who was looking up at him expectantly at his feet, “She didn’t mean it Tess, no, you’re a good clean girl,” he sweet talked her.
You rolled your eyes and proceeded to gather all the ingredients for sugar cookies, “Wait a minute,” Tom returned, “you were all over Tessa when you showed up, and I didn’t see you wash your hands.” He pointed out. You thought for a minute and knew that he was true, so you walked over to the bathroom, butting in front of your best friend, “Ladies first,” you reasoned.
“Pfft, I’d hardy call you a lady,” Tom teased while squeezing himself beside you and turning on the tap.
You bumped him aside with your hip, but he only stumbled slightly, easily retrieving his balance.
Castiel was a gentle lover, to a fault really, clearly terrified of hurting Dean. He supposed it was hardly surprising, with the strength of an angel all it would take was one moment of carelessness and he could destroy Dean. After all, before Dean, Cas had never had sex while in possession of his grace. Dean bore it out for as long as he could, but soon he couldn’t take it. Every kind word and soft caress sent agonising shards of guilt radiating through him, far worse than anything he had experienced in hell. He didn’t deserve this, couldn’t.
“Cas?” Dean spoke into the sheets as Cas softly topped him from behind.
“Can we…” Dean trailed off, he couldn’t say it out loud, couldn’t vocalise something as personal as this.
“Can we what? What do you want?” Cas walked around the bed to where he lay, kneeling down so his face was level with Dean’s, concern creasing those beautiful features. Dean sat up slightly.
“I just… It just…” He couldn’t find the words.
Cas reached a hand out to stroke Dean’s cheek, no doubt feeling the tension in his jaw, seeing the fear of rejection in his eyes.
“What’s wrong?” Dean looked down, scared that Cas would read his thoughts, and be scared away. Cas leaned forward and planted a soft kiss on Dean’s lips. “You know you can tell me anything.” He said quietly, eyes conveying the heartfelt conviction of his words, the honesty of an angel.
“You’re being…Too nice to me.” Dean looked directly at him with those last words. Too late to turn back now.
He could see confusion cloud Castiel’s expression, he wondered if the angel would even have the human knowledge to understand his meaning, then it cleared.
“I don’t have to be.”
With that, he slammed Dean back down on the mattress, holding him down with a firm hand pressed into the small of his back as he moved to straddle him. He thrust into Dean, hard enough for the headboard to crash against the wall.
Dean cried out. He felt Castiel falter for a moment, lessening the pressure on his back with the hint of a question. Dean nodded his head a fraction of an inch, and that was all the confirmation Cas needed. He resumed fucking Dean, each thrust somehow harder than the last, reaching depths Dean didn’t know he had.
Dean grabbed the sheets, fists curling around the material in an attempt to ground himself. Cas noticed his movements, then in a single smooth motion, pulled his arms away from the bedspread and pinned them to his lower back, effortlessly holding them there with one hand as the other grabbed a fistful of hair and shoved his face down hard into the mattress.
Dean shook as an orgasm was wrenched from his soul, his hips violently bucking beneath Castiel’s punishing weight. Castiel’s own orgasm following close behind.
Cas collapsed on top of Dean, releasing his hands and his hair as he did so. Dean just lay there as Cas planted tender kisses across his shoulders and the back of his neck. It was only when he moved up to kiss his cheek that Cas realised he was crying, tears streaming down his face and soaking the mattress below, his shoulders starting to shake from the silent sobs. Cas hurriedly rolled him onto his side, horrified that he had caused such pain in the man he loved so much.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you.” The words rushed out, the panic increasing as Dean only seemed to cry harder, his sobs vocal now. “Dean I-”
“Thank you.” Dean spoke hoarsely, the tears not letting up despite his words. Cas was utterly confused.
“I can heal you if you’re hurt, let me-” he reached out a hand to heal whatever damage he had done, but Dean took hold of his wrist and gently moved it away.
“I’m not hurt Cas. I’m… I’m great. I just… I’d needed that for so long…” The tears that had begun to let up flowed down his cheeks once again. Dean turned his face away, feeling shame redden his face as his senses returned. Cas sat back down beside him, pulling him up with the lightest of touches, then brought his face to his and kissed the tears away. Dean leant into the angel’s touch and kissed him softly, slowly, and completely honestly.
“Thank you.” Cas murmured against his lips, his voice deep and emotional.
“What for?” Dean asked, feeling that he should be the one doing the thanking.
“For letting me see you, the real you.”
Dean responded with a deep kiss, not knowing the words to describe all that he felt in that moment, he didn’t need to. Castiel knew all he wanted to say. He let out a blissful sigh, and lay down to rest in the warmth of his angel’s arms, at complete peace for the first time.
Summary: After an incident leads to
Bucky Barnes getting triggered into full Winter Soldier mode, you, his
girlfriend, are desperate to get the triggers out of his head. Driven to the
last resort, you call up someone from your past and pay the price he demands.
A/N: I’m not exactly sure when
frightening, psychologically driven, disturbing sex became my forte, but I
kinda find it hilarious now that everybody goes, “You want dark sex? Go to
Lily.” Especially considering what my name means, ha. I was actually meant to do
a Sebastian drabble with this kind of sex in it, but I’m blocked as all hell,
so this will have the same stuff in it, but with characters in it.
A/N: Speaking of being blocked on
that Sebastian drabble, I am actually pretty much blocked on smut. Yes, I know
that’s weird, but frankly, I need a break from it. I’m currently working on my
long fic, Cherchez la Femme, and I want that to get the most attention, because
I worked really, really hard on it. I typed this up in a couple of hours;
Cherchez took three months to hand write and another month to edit. (I’m crazy,
I know) That said, this will be the last smut one-shot I publish for a while,
unless I am seriously inspired. Any
smut published from this point on will be part of Cherchez or another long fic
in progress. Most of you know I’m an English major, and I need to work that
side of me sometimes, too. Don’t worry, I’m not angry at anyone, and I’m not
about to rant, I just need to flip a switch. So there will also be a part of Cherchez
published tomorrow… (not sure when though) so, please
love on it. It needs long overdue cuddles.
WARNINGS: Hardcore smut. Threesome,
oral and fingering (anal and vaginal), edging, forced (continual) orgasms,
bondage, choking, spanking, use of magic during sex, dirty talk (name calling,
degradation), language kink, metal hand kink, swearing, crying, mention of
Bucky’s past trauma and mental issues, intrusion into thoughts, MIND GAMES. Sort
of dubcon? Like you know when you have a fantasy you want but you’d never,
never, never admit it? Yeah, that. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANGST @eclecticbooktaster FUCKING ANGST EVERYWHERE
*Ne hnich—don’t cry (it’s a really
rude way of saying it)
Imagine Nursey is touch-starved, but a little insecure about it and Dex is uncomfortable with PDA (It's none of their damn business anyway)
Hey, I…..got carried away. Here is 2.5k of NurseyDex cuddling! Hope you enjoy!
Dex had resolved upon his return to Samwell for his sophomore year to give Derek a chance.
They’d finally had the impending blowout that’d been building all year, and it had been… revealing, challenging.
Things had been said on both sides that were – not worth dwelling on. But, some of what Derek had said, voice raw, hair disheveled, eyes raging, no veneer of “chill” to be found, had been a wakeup call:
Will had a temper
Will shut people out - his classmates, his teammates, even his friends
Will seemed to openly support policy-makers that would keep his friends living in the margins
Will could do this because, whether he decided to own up to his bi-curiosity or not, Will was a white man
And while he’d called Nursey out on being a judgmental asshole, he’d also been a little floored by how raw, how hurt Nurse had seemed by Will’s standoffishness (dislike). It was jarring to realize that anything that he did even mattered to his d-man. He himself had been frustrated by Derek’s almost immediate disapproval, but everything about Mr. Andover-Manhattan had seemed to scream unshakable nonchalance.
But, by the end of their argument Dex had seen mirrored in Nursey’s eyes the same frustrating desire to be acknowledged and accepted that he was all too used to wrestling with himself. It was clear that Nursey had just had more practice hiding it than Dex had ever had to learn.
That look had pricked at Will’s conscience throughout the summer. Even after he’d apologized, he knew that something was going to have to change. He couldn’t justify causing anyone to feel self-conscious or unvalued, not if he was aware of it and could do something about it.
So, Dex had decided to just try with Nurse this year.
It meant he spent more time watching Nursey. Derek Nurse, he’d realized, would never willingly give away a weakness if he could (relatable, actually). So, if he was going to keep from losing his temper with Derek, he’d have to watch him. Watch for the glint in his eye that meant he was joking. Watch for the crease between his brows that meant he was tired. Watch for the biting of his thumb which meant he was nervous. Just watch him for any little sign of humanity that might make him make sense.
That’s why he noticed it:
The longing looks as Ransom and Holster snuggled…everywhere
The bittersweet edge to his smile when Shitty swooped Jack into an epic celly hug
The disappointment when Chowder pulled away during couch time to go hang out with Farmer
Dex, used to being around his own large and tactile family, recognized that familiar, touch-starved itch when he saw it.
It nearly drove him crazy last year, but his oldest sister had come down a few times for business and insisted on squeezing in as many sibling snuggles as she could.
But, Nursey doesn’t have siblings, and – as awesome and supportive as their team can be – it’s pretty clear that Derek’s not getting what he needs there, and that he’s likely too shy to ask.
Luckily for Derek, Dex’s sister doesn’t have a business trip planned for another few months and Dex, well, he likes efficiency. With one act he can 1.) stop watching Derek mope, 2.) meet his own snuggling quota 3.) maybe start mending the breach between them.
A year of roadies, shared classes, and group texting has taught him that Friday at noon is pretty universally acknowledged as NapTime™, at least among the SMH.
So, at 11:40, Dex changes into his softest sweats, his fuzziest socks, and the pre-laundered double-blended SMH tee he knows Bitty helped Lardo pick out, and heads over to Nurses dorm.
His timing is impeccable.
Nursey answers the door already groggy and cotton-clad. Dex barely gives him time to voice his confused query before pushing him backwards through the door.
“Dex, man, what the hell?”
Dex doesn’t even pause, just plops himself onto Nursey’s bed and starts pulling off his shoes.
After getting both shoes off and tucked neatly under the bed, Dex takes off his hoodie and throws it over the back of the chair by the desk.
“Yes, it is NapTime™. And you are here.”
Dex steals himself and looks up, meets Nursey’s very sleepy, very confused eyes. His lips twitch as he takes in the chill-less pout on his d-man’s face.
“Yes, Derek. To sleep.” He says it slowly. Nursey’s eyes narrow at the insinuation that he’s somehow the lost party here.
Dex merely shrugs and kicks his feet up onto the bed, laces his fingers behind his head and stares Nursey down.
He’s left Derek room on the inside of the bed, but the narrow twin bed the dorm’s come with mean that the only way they’re both fitting is for grade A snuggling.
Derek’s pout deepens as he tries to process what’s happening here, but Dex can see that either the invitation or the need to sleep is quickly superseding Derek’s needs for answers.
“This isn’t… You’re not gonna like… Gah – You did come over here to sleep in my bed, right?”
“And this isn’t a prank?”
Derek’s eyes flick over Dex’s face before he nods and shuffles toward the bed.
“I don’t know what’s happening here, but you forfeited chirping rights when you crawled in my bed. And judgement. You don’t get to judge me for –” he waves his hands around ineffectually. His eyes are already starting to close again.
“Yeah, ok. No judging. Now, get in bed.” Dex tugs at Nursey’s shirt, and Nursey stumbles and then tumbles over and onto Dex. And, instead of shifting over and away, snuggles further into Dex’s shoulder.
“No judging,” he hears Nursey mumble into his shoulder.
Dex sighs, content, and pulls his other hand from under Derek to sink into Nursey’s curls.
“Good night, Nurse.”
Dex wakes up to the feeling of Nursey attempting to burrow even further into him, burying his head even further into the crook under Dex’s chin.
“Settle down,” Dex grumbles.
His only reply is a groan and a tightening of Nurse’s arms around him. His sighs, content, briefly believing he be able to settle back into sleep. However, it takes less than a moment to understand why Nurse had been trying to hide away.
“You gotta get it. Alarm’s just gonna keep ringing.”
“Me neither, but you set it for a reason.”
“Mmm. Study group.”
“For your chemistry class. You gotta go.”
Dex feels more than sees Nurse’s head pop up. He rests his chiseled (read: bony) chin on Dex’s chest.
“You’ve got that project due soon.”
“I know that. Why do you?”
“Because you’ve been whining about it in the group text. A lot.”
Nursey’s still in that sleep-vulnerable place where emotions flit unchecked across his face. Dex watches the surprise play out over Derek’s face, his green eyes finally narrowing.
“You never read the group text.”
“Wrong,” Dex clears his throat. “I never talk in the group text.”
“Mmm,” Dex can feel Nursey’s hum vibrating through his own chest. “So you’ve been lurking. Like a creep.”
And in the space of a three words Dex can feel the familiar burn of his own temper rising up. His cheeks burn. He’s not a fucking creep. The group just moves so fast sometimes, and the jokes get so barbed or so obscure that –
“Just like Jack, man.” Derek’s finally dislodged his bony chin from Dex’s chest to nuzzle one last time into Dex’s shoulder. “Just quietly collecting info on everyone only to come out of the blue with a wicked burn when least expected.”
Derek’s body unfurls into one long stretch that presses along Will’s side before he pushes himself up from the bed, a grin flashing across his face as he starts swapping out his sweats for jeans.
Dex watches from the bed as Nursey pulls his oversized t-shirt over his head in one smooth motion. He shakes his head as he rifles around his dressers. The muscles of his back pull and bunch under bronze skin.
“Who fucking knew,” he hears Derek say, almost under his breath. “Will Poindexter, man of fucking mystery.”
Ridiculously chiseled abs disappear under a tight, white t-shirt. The t-shirt disappears under what’s surely a ridiculously expensive flannel.
Derek turns back to the bed where Dex has…..ridiculously been staring….unmoving.
“Feel free to stay as long as you want, man,” Derek says. He runs a hand through his curls. His shirt rises; he pulls it back down, covering the cut V of his hips over his jeans. “The door locks on its own.”
He spins, hip checks the dresser, curses, and grabs his bag.
“The door’s self-locking. And. Um. Thanks for the nap.”
Said door slams behind him.
Shared NapTime™ becomes a Thing.
The week after their first nap is tense. He keeps expecting Chowder to come flail at him about his mad cuddling skills or Holster to come clap him on the shoulder and ask if he can join NapTime™, too. But no one does.
He’s aware of Nursey’s eyes on him like they’ve never really been before, following him with a furrowed brow, probably waiting for the other shoe to drop, too.
But it never does.
And at 11:40 on Friday Dex knocks on Nursey’s door. He’s jumpy. Sleep-fuzzy, but antsy, bouncing on his feet.
“I can leave if you don’t want to,” Dex offers.
“Don’t. I mean – I want to. I don’t know why you want to, but –” Derek pulls his door further open.
Dex walks past, shedding his hoodie. It’d gotten overly warm last time.
“It’s simple, Nurse. I need sleep. You need sleep. There’s this bed here.” Dex pulls his shoes off.
“We’re gonna ignore the part where you have your own bed?”
Dex lies down and tugs on Nursey’s t-shirt, so he does the tumble-cuddle down onto the bed.
“Mmhmm,” he hums. “We’re ignoring it.”
Derek tosses a leg over one of Dex’s and throws an arm around his waist, tucks his head into Dex’s shoulder and relaxes.
“Whatever, man. Man of mystery.” He giggles to himself before quieting down to sleep.
And so, yeah, they nap.
Once a week at first, and then more frequently as hockey season starts up rife with intense practices, games, and roadies.
It’s their secret. A private indulgence that slowly starts to inform their public interactions. Nothing crazy just:
You don’t hold grudges against the dude whose curls you plan on finger-combing later
You don’t pick petty fights with your bro when there’s soothing back-scratches on the line
You speak up when you’re confused about a biting joke when it seems at odds with the soft smiles you’ve been accustomed to waking up to
You check in when you notice stress tensing your d-man’s shoulders
You develop little inside jokes when you’re stumbling sleepily around each other’s rooms, tripping over discarded sweats and shoes
You accept a profile on his Netflix account when –
Listen, needless to say, Nursey becomes a friend – an adorably cuddly friend. Who turns out to be a complete dork. He was bashful smiles and sleep mussed hair. All cheesy lines (when not penning lines of poetry that send goosebumps up Dex’s arms) and clumsy limbs. It was revelatory to realize Nursey spent so much time artfully reclined because he could not keep himself upright and uninjured off the ice. It was probably to balance out his perfect fucking face.
Which…was not a problem for Dex. Not at all.
Nursey stumbles from Dex’s en suite (one of the few perks of living in the Honors’ dorm) and tumbles to the bed. Dex watches as Nursey kicks his sweats, long legs flail - flexing hard-won muscle. He flops when he’s finally gotten the last bit of fabric from around his ankle.
It’s clear that the last round of all-nighters and finals has left Nurse wiped.
“Deeeeex,” this can only be classified as a whine.
Dex smiles, but turns back to his laptop before he can succumb to the temptation behind him. Nursey may be finished with his all-nighters, but Dex still has one more in front of him.
“No can do, Der. One more project, and then I’m yours.”
Derek groans, but Dex hears him roll over and settle in anyway.
Dex stretches and gets to it.
He’s still got a blessed few hours before the sun rises when he finally crawls in bed. Nursey is deliciously sleep-warm and Dex curls right around him.
He’s met with an appreciative moan as Derek rolls over.
It’s customary. Derek sleeps on his belly – well, half on top of Dex – and usually flings an arm or leg (both, it’s usually both) over Dex.
What’s not customary:
“Babe,” Derek murmurs, pulling Dex in close. Derek’s hand sweeps up Dex’s side, caresses his neck, before burying itself into Dex’s hair.
Dex finds himself curled onto his side, Nursey’s leg wedged between his own.
“Will,” Nursey groans. Dex breathes the word in on Nursey’s breath. Nursey’s fingers combing through his hair send a shiver down his spine that leave him pressed closer to Derek.
“Missed you.” These – these words are pressed into his mouth. Derek’s perfect mouth brushes against Dex’s with a sweet, aching softness before –
“Fuck!” Dex screams, curling around his balls. “Dammit, Nurse. Stop flailing. Shit. Stop. Stop it. Please. Just – give me a minute, yeah. But. Just chill for a sec, yeah?”
Nursey stops moving, finally. When will catches his breath, what he finds breaks his heart a little.
Derek’s curled himself into the smallest space he can, back against the wall, clearly trying not to touch Dex at all. He’s got his thumbnail between his teeth and, goodness, there’s fear in his mossy eyes.
“Derek, you gotta come here, ok. I’m sore and sleepy, and just, will you come here, please.”
“Will – Dex – shit. I’m sor–”
“Stop. Derek. You can apologize if it’s not something you want, and there’s some other Will-Dex you were thinking of. But, you know, on the off chance it was me – come here, dammit.”
Nursey crawls over to lean just over Dex.
Gosh, he’s adorable.
Dex reaches up, sinking a hand into Derek’s hair.
“Dex, bro, I –” Derek’s face sinks into an anxious pout. “You’re a really good cuddler. And hot. And your body. Shit bro, I’ve been trying to be good, but – don’t hate me?”
Dex huffs a laugh before forcefully rolling them over, careful to avoid Nursey’s knees.
“I gave up hating you, like, a whole 6 months ago. Keep up, Derek.”
Dex kisses the growing smile from Nursey’s face. His mouth opens beautifully, and for a time there’s nothing but the obscene slick and slide of Derek’s mouth, his tongue, and teeth.
It’s – god, it’s fucking good. But.
He presses his forehead to Nursey’s and revels in the feel of Derek’s hands roaming under shirt. Skin to skin.
“You’ve no idea how much I want to follow this to it’s natural end, bro, but – NapTime™ first?”
“Mmhmm. Sleep first. This,” he presses a kiss to Derek’s forehead as they settle in. “This after.”
I saw a few people in my recent tags asking HOW and one kind sweet user asking what bears the most money so I’m going to share my success story. I’m tagging
@alice-elizabethscott , @xxkalleexx , @drunkenwhaleer , and @seismitoadsbutt, cause I saw y’all in the notes There were a lot more but they were anons
SO Y’ALL WANNA KNOW HOW TO DO THE THING? LEMME SHOW YOU
You will need a game year, roughly 928 Starfruit seeds, the greenhouse, 6 iridium sprinkers, as many kegs as you can possibly craft, 157 casks, your favorite music, and a LOT of patience.
I’m putting it under a readmore because hot dang it’s a long post. It woudln’t be as long but I wanted to put pictures in
HERE’S A LIL ONESHOT. srry if its not what you guys expected lol i was super tired while writing it! Thanks for reading, reblogs and likes are all appreciated! Have a good one.
Title: The Night Before. Pairing: Gaston x Reader. Words: 1,368. Rating: T. Summary: After sharing a kiss the night before, Gaston meets with you and tries to explain what he’s feeling.
“Pretending that nothing happened isn’t going to help either of us.” Hearing that voice in the morning was the last thing you expected. Hearing it as the first sound to awaken your senses after opening your front door was also to say the least, a big surprise. Stepping down from your front door, you pushed on his chest to get him to back away so you could walk. He did, but only half a step. Sighing in defeat, you stopped trying to maneuver your way around his broad body and cocked your hip to the side. You were all to aware of what he was referring to. You had been thinking about it ever since last night. You had gone to bed thinking about it and you had woken up thinking about it.
You didn’t quite expect Gaston to be outside your house door though, ready to pester you about the mishap in the tavern the night before. You figured he’d have been too hungover to actually be awake this early, but here he was in all his post-war glory. Reckon, he did look a bit messier than his usual self, with a few stray hairs, bags under his eyes, and disheveled tan jacket that clung perfectly to his structured torso.
Looking at him in astonishment, it appeared as if he didn’t sleep at all and spent the night waiting to see you again. Clearing his throat, Gaston fixed his jacket, buttoning a few buttons in the middle before slicking back his hair. Rolling your eyes at the thought of Gaston performing such a romantic task specifically for you, you acknowledged his words. Swallowing softly, you grasped your skirt and tugged the fabric out of his hands swiftly. It left him a bit starstruck as you flattened the front of your dress and muttered to him, “It didn’t mean anything. It was just a kiss.”
Okay lol so this is for @ajanamyth who suggested Loki wooing Tony, and Steve being upset. Not sure if this is exactly what you had in mind babe, but this is what happened!!! ***************************
“Stark.“ Loki landed on the ground and stomped towards Tony. "Call your team off, or I will be forced to hurt them.”
“Will you?” Tony shot back, and raised his arm to aim the repulsor right at the Trickster God. “Because every time we do this sort of thing, you end up retreating.”
Loki narrowed his eyes and stalked even closer and Tony smirked. In his suit he was the same height as the overly tall bastard, and he completely enjoyed not having to look up to talk down to him. He even opened his faceplate so Loki could absolutely see the smug look on his face.
“So maybe–” he continued with a short laugh. “–you should take all that bluster and bullshit you carry around with you, and that ridiculous cape and maybe just–WHOA!”
Tony ducked and scrambled back a few steps when Loki summoned his magic and shot a bolt of energy at him.
“God it’s so rude to interrupt me when I’m monologuing!” Tony snapped and fired a few shots off, hating how much he enjoyed the effortless way Loki seemed to dodge them.
They fought hard for a few minutes, trading blasts and snarky one liners, until Tony popped a repulsor that should have blown a hole in the Demi gods chest, but instead Loki just wrinkled his nose and disappeared–
— and reappeared right in Tony’s space, so close that Tony stumbled back into a wall, and Loki pressed close to him, a curious look on his face.
“You are adorable when you are cocky.” That low voice was suddenly entirely too close to Tony’s ear, and Tony had to swallow back his initial reaction (which was definitely not a moan. It wasn’t) and had to lick his lips, which only drew that green gaze down. “I much prefer your brand of courage to the rest of these quivering mortals.”
“Tell me, Anthony.” Tony’s full name rolled of Loki’s tongue sounding entirely too good. “When you take this suit off–” Loki glanced down. “Do you prefer to wear silk or–”
“Tony!” The shout distracted Loki, who turned just in time to see Captain’s shield flying toward him.
Tony’s face mask slammed down and he was blasting away in a split second, and Loki barely managed to dodge the shield, sending a fierce glare at the Captain before shimmering away into nothing.
Tony flew off towards the tower, unsure of why his heart was pounding a little too hard, and why he couldn’t quite wipe the smile from his face.
So earlier today I got rather pissed off when some rude anon who has probably never made a GIF in their lives decided to attack my friend (and one of the best GIFmakers I know) for no reason telling them not to talk about GIFmaking like it’s a big deal since it’s just taking clips from existing video. I was hoping to forget about this, but I couldn’t stop thinking about how many non-GIFmakers really do think that’s all GIFmaking is (including myself
before I started making GIFs
to some extent). Luckily, most people aren’t that rude about it and know not to insult content creators over a topic they actually don’t know much about…but I still feel the need to discuss some of the often lengthy effort that goes into making medium to high quality GIFs.
As a disclaimer, I’m NOT trying to be elitist and I
don’t consider myself one of the top tier GIFmakers. I also don’t think that GIFmakers HAVE to put in a lot of effort to alter GIFs from the original video frames if they don’t want to. It’s just a hobby where we try to capture/highlight cool moments using a severely limited and dying file format lol…so it’s really up to the individual how much they wanna put into it. However, the truth of the matter is that many GIF and graphics makers that contribute greatly to numerous fandoms DO put in a significant amount of effort to make their GIFs look different from and better than the original video.
EXAMPLES OF MY GIFS BEFORE / AFTER FILTERS & COLORING