spin chair

studying with adhd!! ✨🌈

before we begin: i have mostly hyperactive type adhd & these tips have worked for me! i cant promise they will 100% work for u & maybe they will work even if u dont have adhd. but again, i went from a c-student to an a-student with these, so if you think they sound helpful, give them a shot :-)

🍁 make a checklist of what you need to study before anything else. as you gather your materials, refer back to this list. once you have everything on the list, double check: is there anything else you need? check again. keep your supplies within reach

 🍁 try to have a large study space so you can spread out! try the floor, a kitchen counter, or even your bed. this way, even if you’re messy, you can just shove what you don’t need to the side because…

 🍁 only keep what youre currently working on in front of you. people with adhd need simplicity to minimize extra steps in their thought process (extra steps lead to distractions, forgetfulness, and potentially executive dysfunction)

 🍁 don’t force yourself into pomodoro cycles - work in “shifts” while taking breaks and using ur hyperfocusing powers :-) working in shifts means that the minute you get bored of working on one assignment, shift to another. when you get bored of that one, shift back to the first. if you get overwhelmed or suddenly unbelievably unmotivated, take a break to breathe - when you get bored of breathing, back to work! do ur best not to burn urself out by working too long, but if you feel yourself hyperfocusing, don’t break your focus by forcing yourself to stop

 🍁 prioritize! this is a huge problem for us - we try to do 30 things and finish 1. it’s incredibly frustrating to feel like you are working harder than anyone but getting the lowest results. the secret is prioritization (which goes along with simplicity)! write down three things you have to get done. do those. do you have extra time? pick two more things to do. done? finish your study session with one last, low-priority and low-stress task

 🍁 rubber bands, bracelets, erasers, rubix cubes, and stress balls are my favorite things to fidget with when i dont have my spinner. i personally can’t concentrate in chairs that spin, but walking around while reading my notes aloud helps me. 

 🍁 if you really really cannot physically bring yourself to do homework, watch a tv show that youve watched a million times before as you do it. 

🍁 take interactive notes! if you take messy notes with a lot of gaps at school and rewriting them isnt an option for whatever reason: write your messy lecture notes on the left half of the page. at home, highlight main ideas from the left side. on the right half, fill in any blocks of information you missed using youtube/textbook/other resources. avoid extensive colorcoding because…

 🍁 colorcode when youre studying for your exams! make a box next to each main topic and check off when you are done with it. highlight questions/whatever you wish as you read through your notes to stop passive learning. 

 🍁 take it easy on yourself! adhd isn’t a curse, but it does make it difficult to do a lot of things that school requires to do “well.” sometimes you won’t be able to understand information as quickly, or you’ll forget to turn in your homework. you are doing your best, and that can be just passing a class or finishing one worksheet. youre doing great & you will succeed! 

pretty boy ☾ peter parker

summary : you think peter is very pretty, and your duty as his girlfriend is to tell him every chance you get.

wc : 1.4k 

  Peter Parker has freckles. They’re countless in amount and infinitesimal in size, but they’re spread across his sloped nose, his cheeks, and some of them are scattered across his shoulders from the days he spends at Rockaway Beach in the summertime sun not because he likes the beach, but because you do and you drag him there almost every day throughout July. He doesn’t mind. He can’t have you taking the train there alone, and he’d rather spend time with you in the sweltering heat than leave you by yourself. If you’re sitting close enough, the way you are right in this moment, you can count each one of those stars on his cheeks and play connect the dots with a ballpoint pen, if he’d let you. He most likely would. Peter would let you get away with anything. If you were to try to kiss each individual freckle that was settled there on his skin you’d be pressing your lips to his cheeks for hours on end. He’d like to see you try such a thing. 

   Peter Parker also has the sweetest brown eyes you’ve ever had the pleasure of gazing into. They were warm and kind and they felt like home whenever he turned them on you in that loving way he held. You love the way he looks at you, often and bright with happiness. You haven’t stopped looking at him since you started all those months ago, you couldn’t anticipate a time when you would. He doesn’t mind the permanent way his eyes settle on you, but it’s the way you’re always looking at him that makes him blush and turn his face away. He’s not much to look at, in his opinion. 

    He whines a little when he catches your eye again, trained on him like a reflex once again. His face glows a red the color of a ripe strawberry as he spins around in his chair and stares at the peeling cover of his science notebook. “What’s wrong, pretty boy?” You grinned when he flushed a deeper shade of crimson, still evading the smile that crept across your face. 

   “Y/N,” he whines once more, the heat creeping up toward the tips of his ears. He turns toward you, holding his cheek in his hand and keeping his elbow propped up on the swivel chair. “You know I get all,” he squirmed around in his chair, “flustered when you call me that.” The admittance came with a great reluctancy on his part, but it only made you smile more as you walked across the room and cleared away the clutter of his desk, taking a seat there so you could continue your study in Peter Parker. “I’m not pretty.” 

    “Shhh,” you chastised, using your foot to spin him back around. “You’re very pretty, Peter.” He stretches out his hand, waiting for you to grab it and hold it as careful as always. He presses a kiss to your knuckles whenever you hold his hand, he knows you think it’s the sweetest thing ever and that every single time he does it, you swoon like it’s your first date all over again. He’s big on holding hands. It’s intimate without being too much, and the teachers can’t really scold him for holding your hand the way they can for kissing you against the lockers when you both think no one is around. Still, he kisses your hand, and you close your eyes, smiling shyly. Then, you say, “How’d I get the sweetest, prettiest boy in the universe to be mine?” 

   “Oh, god,” he takes his hand out of yours and covers his cheeks with them, feeling the warmth of his skin against his palms and squeezing his eyes shut. He can’t believe what you’ve made him. A blushing mess undone the moment you call him pretty, sweet, yours. “Feel my cheek,” he demanded, grabbing your wrist and pressing your palm to his face. You laugh. 

   “You’re burning up, babe,” you say, patting his cheek. “I can’t help it. I have to compliment you. All the time. Every hour of every day.” You tap a finger against his cute nose. 

   “I would compliment you but every time I try you swoop in and render my speech incoherent with that little nickname you have for me,” he kept his fist against his cheek as he stared up at you, your legs dangling off his desk as you extend your hands out for him. He takes them, presses them to his cheek. 

   “What nickname?” You question innocently. “Oh, oh, oh, I know which one. Pretty boy.” You held his scrunched up in embarrassment face in your hands, squishing his cheeks. “So pretty.” 

    “I’m gonna spontaneously combust.” The words came out muffled because of the position his face was in, but if he were being honest, he could feel himself light up every time you said he was pretty, as amusing as the word was to him. Even if he doesn’t think he’s much- anything, really- to be fond of, he’s happy, so happy, that you disagree. 

   You call him pretty boy every chance you get. You seize the opportunity with pride, throwing a wink his direction when you can because he has the dopiest little smile on his face for the rest of the day even if he feigns irritation in the moment. 

     You greet him every morning outside his apartment building with a cup of coffee in your outstretched hand and a sweet smile curling at your lips and a, “Morning, my pretty boy,” and Peter starts his school day with a blush, his arm around the shoulders of the girl that he loves. You lean up to kiss the corner of his mouth. He’s invincible. 

    Then, you see him in chemistry class, goggles strapped to your face and a stupid apron around your neck. His heart still stops when he sees you. You slide in the seat between him and Ned, pulling at his goggle strap before it snaps back to his head as gentle as you can manage. “Did you finish the lab conclusion, pretty boy? I’m stuck on the last sent- Ned what happened to him?” You turned to the other boy, eyebrows raised in confusion because Peter is motionless and the redness is spreading all over his neck. 

   “You called him pretty again,” Ned replied, stretching his hand across the table and waving it in front of Peter’s face. “He’s probably just offended that you didn’t greet me with a compliment.” 

   “C’mon, Ned, you know I think you’re gorgeous.” 

   “I’m actually not deaf, guys.” Peter nudged you playfully, rubbing his cheeks with the sleeves of his gray sweater. You ruffle his honey hair. 

  “We know,” you answered. “Ned’s stunning, obviously-” Ned grins at this- “but you’re forever the only pretty boy for me.” Peter scrunches his nose up. Then, he takes off his goggles, placing them next to the looseleaf paper that has his neatly compiled lab report scrawled over the page. He leans forward, scooting his chair close to you so he can remove your goggles, too. He takes your face in his hands and kisses you quick. He’d put more passion into it if the teacher wasn’t standing across the room, looking for any excuse to separate the two of you. Every teacher was the same. He pulls back after a second, his hands lingering on your cheeks when he gazes at you. 

   “I love you, you beautiful and lovely and wonderful girl of mine.” Triumphantly, he removes his hands and places them back down on the desk. He catches it before you turn away toward Ned, and for a brief and fleeting moment, it’s there on your cheeks. “Oh, oh, what’s that I see? Is that a blush?” He jumps around to Ned’s spot, a stupid, prideful grin on his face as he savors the moment for himself, commits the pretty sight to memory. “Pretty girl, are you blushing?” He pressed his hands to against your face, pinching your cheek gently, lovingly. You punched him in the arm, a warning behind your eyes, but Peter didn’t care in the slightest. 

   “Yes, you big idiot,” you mumbled. “Happy now?” 

   “Oh, I’m very happy.” 

   “I hate you.” 

   “Do you really?” Peter raised his eyebrows, resting his palms against your shoulders and rubbing his thumb along the place where your collarbone peeked out of your shirt. 

   “Of course not,” you said, a grumble in your tone. “I love you and your pretty boy face, sweet little freckles and all.” You poked a couple of his freckles and kissed the one by his mouth. Peter sighed, still smiling brightly because no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t pretend to be annoyed at you when you called him that name. He’d wear it with like a badge of honor, grateful for it. He had an effortlessly gorgeous love that thought he was the prettiest thing she had ever laid her eyes on, so what more could he ask for? 

Hiveswap troll terminology thread

we got a lot of new troll terminology for things (probably used exclusively by the lower castes) from hiveswap and i wanna put em down here since they could be useful to writing! if you want to add on feel free! some of these im still not sure of but its what i assume they are. also if a definition is blank idk what it is but maybe we could collaborate on finding all the new terms through all the different object combination dialogs

gander precipice - balcony
stemcluster - city
scourdray - mop cart
resifluid - greywater; sullage
spearspinner - spin mop
splaysac - beanbag chair (typically filled with sopor slime)
loungeplank - couch; sofa
clawgunk - a soda brand marketed by heiress Trizza Tethis
gastric evacuation gland - either an actual alien gland or the last part of the large intestine(?)
arena stickball - an Alternian sport best described as a hybrid of baseball, quidditch, rugby, and pool
hydration cylinder - drink can, usually soda
cluckbeast ova - (chicken) egg
crisprange - stove
huskloaf -  insect carapace-loaf(?)
acid tract - stomach
acid tubes - intestines
zigzag incline - stairs
nugbone - skull; head
bobblenugs - bobbleheads
grubflecks - a kind of cereal(?)
tubeflora shavings
bellowsacs - lungs

Stressed (CEO harry)

Originally posted by solo-harry

let’s all imagine harry looking like this because he looked fine af in this suit. 

rated ma (mostly smut)

Being the girlfriend of a CEO can be vexatious. It requires you putting up with your boyfriend’s moody attitude and traveling. He can be pretty oblivious at times due to the amount of work that consumes him. You’ve been dating for about a two years now and you practically live with him in his luxurious penthouse. 

There are days where you’d feel off and he wouldn’t notice because of how tired he is and there are definitely days where his mood would be off but you’d notice because he makes it pretty obvious. Some days he’d have to cancel dinner or lunch dates because of a meeting or staying in the office too late which would make a hefty sigh blow past your lips. Other days, he might have to travel out of the state or country since his company is international and there’d be problems only he could fix by going there. 

One of the most aggravating things would be when your boyfriend is stressed. His patience would be very thin and one would talk to him like they’re walking on thin ice that could break easily. He would shut people out and make them leave him alone due to frustration. Sometimes he would yell without noticing, his vein in his jaw protruding, his eyes blazing with anger as they would become a shade darker. His jaw would clench tightly, making the bone more prominent and sharp.

However, there are some people that Harry can be around when he is angry or stressed. Like you. You’d talk to Harry like he’s fragile china and he’d snap at you but calm down, apologizing for using such a rude tone because you would give him a stern glare. Other than his mother or sister, you don’t put up with Harry’s rude and annoyed demeanor either. 

When he’s home, you’d see him screaming through the phone at one of his employees, his face red in anger, chest heaving slightly but as soon as he hangs up and looks at your face, it all disappears and he’d give you one of his warm smiles as if he wasn’t just screaming on through the phone. You’d actually found it quite comical if you’re honest. It’s like seeing Harry go from an angry lion to a cute little bunny within seconds.

Currently, you were in the elevator of his building, going up to his office to visit him. You had received a call from his assistant about how stressed he was and how he didn’t eat lunch yet which made you grunt because how many times have you told Harry to eat lunch on time? You knew that his assistant wouldn’t dare to ask him since he might just scream at her considering stressed he was, therefore, she called you because she knew you can get him to calm down and eat. 

When you got up to his floor, a bag of lunch in hand, you walk out of the elevator and to his assistant’s desk. You greet her with a polite smile and receive a grateful one in return. 

“Thank god you’re here!” His assistant sighs in relief, causing you to chuckle. 

“How bad is it today?” You ask her even though you already know, considering he didn’t answer any of your calls or texts.

A bleak facial expression is etched on the assistant’s face, her tongue clicking against her teeth to make a hissing sound. “He yelled at four employees today and broke the small vase in his office.”

You purse your lips in wonder, looking towards his office door and you could hear him screaming through the phone. Your eyes go wide when you hear him say do you want me to fucking fire you? really loud and you look back at his assistant who ushers you towards the door with a knowing and hopeless look.

Dammit Harry. 

“Good luck,” you hear his assistant whisper, causing you to snort.

You open the door slowly, sticking your head in first to see what he was doing. You could see him facing away from you, sitting on his chair behind his desk as he holds a phone in his hand, staring out at the view of the city through the large window. He doesn’t hear you when you shut the door, his voice far too loud and angry, speaking through the phone. 

You set the bag of food down on the coffee table where there is also a sofa set up and you cautiously walk towards him.

“No, dammit! S’not what I wanted! I told yeh that ‘ve been wanting t’ sign a contract with tha’ company fo’ a while now!” He seethes, gripping the phone in his large veiny hands tightly. 

You stand behind him, your hands coming down to rest on both of his shoulders making him stiffen even more but quickly relax when he notices the promise ring he gave you, sitting on your finger and he turns his head to confirm it is you before looking back out at the view. You slightly massage his tense shoulders to calm him down as he talks on the phone, his voice not as angry as it was before but it was still angry. 

You feel one of his hands come up to rest on yours to acknowledge you and you smile at the gesture, leaning down to kiss the top of his head. He runs his thumb across your knuckles as you dig your thumb into the back of his neck with your other hand. 

“Look,” he miffed, his tone condescending, “I don’ wanna have t’ come over there just ‘cos one o’ my employees screwed up and couldn’t do their job like they were told to. I cannot lose this contract and ‘f I do, I promise you, you won’t have a job startin’ tomorrow if yeh don’t fix this.” And without letting the person on the other end speak, he hangs up the phone, chucking it onto the floor and you click your tongue together at his anger. He doesn’t greet you, pinching his forehead together with his hand as he shuts his eyes, lips set into a firm line. 

You roll your eyes but keep quiet, knowing that he’s irritated and needs to relax so you lean down to wrap your arms around his neck from behind, crossing over his chest. You feel him let out a sigh, intertwining his ring clad fingers with yours, silently. 

You bring your lips to his neck, pressing soft kisses against it to unwind him from his angry state. You feel the skin move beneath your lips as he swallows thickly  and you love how you still have this affect on him even while he was angry. You bring your lips below his ear, puckering it against the soft skin and you know how much it affects him considering that’s where he loves to be kissed. 

“You okay, baby?” You whisper in his ear, scratching a hand across his chest of the area where his shirt is unbuttoned. 

“‘m fine,” he mutters. 

You purse your lips, narrowing your eyes at him, “Didn’t sound fine. I heard you broke a vase again.”

An annoyed sigh emits from Harry’s lips, “Who told yeh tha’? Told them not t’ tell yeh but they still do. Stupid fucking employees never listen to me an’ now ‘m gonna ‘ave to–” You don’t let him finish, interrupting his angry rant. 

“Doesn’t matter who told me. You need to relax, sweetheart. This is like the fifth vase you broke. And you skipped eating again when I told you not to!” You move back from the chair when you feel him let go of your hand and spin his chair to face you properly. 

His eyes scan your body, enjoying the view of you wearing a white sundress that reaches mid thigh. His green orbs linger on your cleavage that is visible from the criss cross at the chest. Your lips curve at the corner, knowing you’re already going to be a distraction from his anger.

“Was gonna eat once I finished yellin’ at this employee ‘f mine who can never do his fucking job right,” His voice goes from calm to bitter again, his eyebrows knitting together in annoyance. “Gave him a chance t’ prove himself an’ he screws up a deal with one o’ my most important clients an’ now ‘m gonna fucking fire him ‘f he doesn’t–” You interrupt his angry rant by moving forward to straddle either side of his waist on the chair, sitting on top of his lean thighs, your hands grabbing each side of his face while his hands grip your hips. 

“Shh…” You stroke his hair, causing him to involuntarily close his eyes at the feeling, throwing his head back against the chair. “You’re not going to fire anyone. You’re just stressed yeah?” You cup his face again, leaning forward to kiss his slightly parted pink lips. 

Harry hums, opening his eyes to gaze at you. His right hand moves down your hip slowly until he feels the smooth skin of your thigh. You feel him push the fabric of the dress up to slip his fingers beneath the waistband of your panties, letting his fingers drag against the side teasingly. 

You try not think too much about it, swallowing the small lump in your throat. You could feel your body become warmer, the area between your legs tingling with sensation. “Harry,” You clear your throat.

“Hm?” He responds, pulling you closer to him so he can kiss the exposed area of your skin through the criss cross ties at the top of your dress.

“You didn’t answer my calls,” You point out, your eyes shutting when you feel his tongue drag against the side of your neck. 

“Told yeh I was angry,” He grunts, “Yellin’ at m’dumb employee.”

You sigh, tilting your head to the side as he kisses your neck, “I brought you food.” You say lamely even though that’s not what you want to think about right now. You notice how easily his mood has changed from angry to horny within seconds. If this was going to be a way for him to calm down, then you might as well get something out of it too. 

“Mhm,” He hums in appreciation, “Thanks, love, but ‘ve got a taste fo’ something else right now.” He whispers, sending chills down your body and between your legs and you can feel the area dampen at his words and touch. 

He drags his hand to the front of your panties, rubbing your clit over your panties and you instantly moan at the action, throwing your head back while gripping his shoulders so you don’t fall. You feel his nose drag up your neck, his mouth pressing hard kisses against the skin. 

“Already so wet fo’ me hm? You’re soaking, princess,” He baits, sliding his fingers to feel the wetness. His fingers slide your panties aside, making you moan out loud when you feel his ring clad fingers drag up your dripping cunt. The tip of his fingers drag up your folds and you gasp, gripping his neck tightly when you feel yourself become unsteady. He teases his forefinger into your entrance, sliding only a little bit of out before sliding back out making you whine. 

He chuckles hotly, bringing his other hand up to grip the back of your head and push you forward to press your lips against his in hunger. You feel your lips move in sync with his as you make out. He parts his lips to bring out his tongue and tease it against your lower lip and you open your mouth to grant access. He immediately shoves his tongue into your mouth, playing with your tongue as he fucks you with both of his ring clad fingers. You moan in his mouth when you feel his fingers go in deep, feeling his knuckles against your spongy walls. 

You bite down on his bottom lip, emitting a low groan from him and you grip his hand from your head to bring it to one of your breasts. He runs his thumb of your nipple back and forth before going in circular motions, making you grip the hair at the back of his head tightly in your fists. 

You feel some of your juices slip down your inner thighs while he thrusts his fingers into you at quick pace, the both of you breathing heavily. He rubs his thumb against your clit, emitting another moan from you which he quiets with a kiss. 

You feel him pull his fingers out of you slowly, your wetness covering his fingers and sliding down his hand. He brings them out from underneath and your skirt and you watch him bring his fingers up to his mouth, liking his fingers to taste your sweetness. You watch him with a clenched jaw, your chest heaving at the sight. You press your lips against his roughly, wanting to taste yourself on his lips as you slide your tongue out of your to lick at his lips. He grips your ass in his hands, picking you up from his thighs and causing you to wrap your legs around his waist while you still kiss his lips. 

You move your lips down from his mouth to the neck, sucking and biting at the skin on his neck. He locks his forearm around your hip, clearing every thing from his desk without a care before placing you down on it. You pull back to look at him with wide eyes but he only gives you a hot smirk before kissing your lips. His hands skim the bottom of your sundress, pulling it upwards to remove it from your body and you put your arms up, allowing him to drag it up your body. He carelessly throws it somewhere in the room.

His eyes darken when he notices you only wearing a pair of white lace panties which he also removes from you by having you lift your hips so he can slide them down your legs. You push his blazer off of him, your hands going for the buttons on his shirt. You press kisses down his chest with each removal of his button and he groans when you lick up his stomach. He fists your hair in his hand, pulling you back up to look at him. 

He gazes you with lust filled eyes, the shade two times darker. “’m gonna fuck you.” He growls deeply. 

You gulp at his tone, feeling your skin sweat at the rising temperature in the room.

“Someone might come,” You whisper against his lips, dragging your hands down his chest, to the waistband of his pants. 

“Tha’ just makes it more exhilarating dunnit?” He responds back, kissing down your neck, sucking marks into your skin. You undo his belt slowly, pulling his slacks down while he drags his tongue up between your breastbone. He helps you pull his pants along with his boxers down his legs until it reaches his ankles. 

You see his erection slap against his abdomen, the pink tip leaking with its pre cum. You drag your tongue across your lower lip at the sight of his cock. Harry’s hands push you back slightly to kiss at your breasts. You feel his tongue swirl on your peaked nipple, biting and sucking before giving it a kiss. You feel him do the same with the other breast and you throw head back, eyes shutting in pleasure at the feeling of his lips on your chest. 

“Baby…” You moan, your mind and vision becoming blurry. 

After giving attention to your breasts, he pulls back with blood red lips, his chest red and heaving for breathe. He looks at your pleased face, smiling cheekily when he notices your eyes on his cock. 

“C’mon, I need to fuck yeh,” He breathes out, setting his hand on your lower back before shoving you against his chest. 

You nod, kissing his lips again. Both of his hands grabbing to feel your thighs as he massages them in his hands. His eyes drag over your naked, sweat covered body that he couldn’t resits or go without touching. 

“So perfect, love,” He coos. His caresses the soft skin of your thighs, his fingers dancing on them and towards your dripping pink core. You moan softly when you feel his two fingers part your folds again, pushing his fingers in afterwards. He parts his lips at the feeling of your wetness. He slowly pulls them out and brings them up to your lips. You stick out your tongue to suck on them, swirling your fingers around the digits and Harry’s Adam’s apple bobs up and down at the sight. 

“Gonna take my cock like a good girl hm?” He asks, situating himself in front of you, pushing you flat on the desk while you whimper desperately at his words. “Are you baby? ‘m askin’ yeh a question.” He growls. 

“Yes–fuck, yes please,” As soon as he got your reassurance, he spreads your thighs apart, making you sit up on his desk before moving forward. He grips his cock in his hand, teasing you with the head. He rubs your clit with the head of his cock and slides it down your slit, causing you to mewl out loud. You finally feel him at your entrance, his shaft finally deep inside of you. Your eyes immediately roll to the back of your head in reaction when he wastes no time picking up his pace and pounding into you mercilessly. You moan breathlessly as your skins made a connection together, his pubes tickling and brushing against your clit with each stroke, the sensation causing you to whine. 

Harry groans, gripping the skin of your thighs and helping himself into you, hitting you with tight and long strokes. You weren’t able to comprehend a thing as your eyes flutter, blinking up at the ceiling. Harry was so stressed and horny that he immediately pulls you up, asking you to stand on your feet. He swiftly turns you around and bends you over his large desk, your chest skimming across the cold surface of his desk.

You giggle softly when he starts kissing at your neck, placings his hands on your back as he slips back inside of you. 

“Doing so well, pet,” He breathes out.

You hear Harry hiss as he smacks your ass, holding onto your soft hips before thrusting hard and fast. You turn your cheek and place it flat against his desk, Harry taking your arms and pinning them behind you, his left hand holding the side of your waist, your back arching as he slows down, fucking you slow and deep so you can feel every inch of him within your body. You were able to feel every ridge of his cock and you must’ve moaned his name many times, seeming like that’s the only thing you could say at the moment.

He leans against your back, his teeth grazing your earlobe with heavy breaths, whispering dirty things in your ear. 

“C’mon baby, push back on m’cock,” He mumbles, feeling you slam back instantly on his bottom half as he thrust forwards. 

“Feels good huh?” He manages to ask. 

You nod vigorously, gasping when he pulls out, feeling empty without him. He runs his hand through the waves of your hair, caressing your head softly. His forearm wraps around your waist as he pulls your body up from the desk to press against his chest. He sits down on the sofa which he carried you to before he sat you on him, pushing his length back into you, his body shuddering as he gave you open mouthed kisses on your arching back. 

“Ride m’cock, princess, tha’s it,” He whimpers in your ear and you moan softly, moving your hips in figures of eights. His chest heaves against your back as he thrusts into you. 

He turns your head to the side, grinning and biting your lip as he runs his hand through his hair, licking his lips as he watches you ride his cock. He watches you like a prey when he sees you pull your body up a little, slowing your pace teasingly. He becomes aggravated, picking up his pace again.

“Stop playing,” Harry grunts, pulling your head back so you could look at each other. His eyes are dark and he was out of breath and panting for her movement in desperation. 

“Fuck me then,” You tease, leaning closer into his face. “Know you can.” And you kiss him roughly, gazing into his eyes and he looked like he wanted to wreck you and you wouldn’t mind at all. His hands hold your waist, almost clawing on it, holding you down further until he was balls deep in you. Your chest was burning at this point, him panting hard and you almost forgot your name for a second. 

“‘m gonna fuck yeh so good,” He promises, bringing his around to palm your breast, fondling with it as his mouth latches onto your neck. “Gonna take it all?” He growls. 

“Mhm, all,” You manage to breathe out. “Please,” You whine. 

He complies with your wish by brutally thrusting up into you hard and fast which made you feel an unexplained amount of pleasure. His whole office was being echoed by the sound of your skins slapping and the wetness of your arousal dripping down both of your thighs. You arch your back, him still holding your hair as he pants against your back, moaning with his rough, raspy voice that you loved so much. You lean your head back to rest again his shoulder as he fucks you into oblivion. 

You felt your body go weak as you were on the verge of your orgasm. Harry grunts behind you, the sounds that you were making setting him off as he repeatedly hits a certain spot into you. Your body was shaking at this point and you could’ve fallen off but but he pulled you close and slowed his pace, rolling his hips up, going deeper. You manage to bring your breathing down and you close your eyes, trying to focus but you felt so dizzy from his hard movements. 

The sound of his phone starts ringing and you open your eyes to see another phone on the coffee table. Harry groans and you widen your eyes when you see him move his arm around you to grab the phone and answer it. 

He continues to thrust up into you, placing his hands back on your hips while he holds the phone between his ear and shoulder, speaking through the phone, “Wha’ is it now?” 

You wanted to protest because it didn’t seem right to fuck while he was speaking through the phone. You were already pissed with the fact that he had the nerve to even answer when you were fucking. But at the same time, he didn’t seem to care, multitasking between fucking his girlfriend and speaking to an employee on the phone. 

“Keep going baby,” He grunts, biting his lip as he watches you. His lips lift up into a smirk when he goes a little faster, the sound of your skin clapping was getting louder. He hisses, leaning forward as he runs his hand down your chest, metal rings touching your clit and making you shudder. He rubs his fingers in circular motions, picking up his pace again as he rams up into you again.You accidentally let out a loud moan but he quickly slams his hand across your mouth, making you laugh a little while he narrows his eyes at you. I mean it was his fault for answering the phone in the first place. 

“No, this isn’t a bad time,” He grunts and you rolls your eyes, “I want to know wha’ you’ve done to fix the problem. Have they agreed to signing the contract?” He manages to ask. You cry out into his hand when he taps your sensitive bud with is full hand, rubbing it as he continues his rhythmic thrusts. “Well ‘f yeh didn’t fix it then why the fuck did you call?” You slow him down, pulling yourself up until the tip of his cock was only inside and then you slam down onto him again, making him groan in surprise. 

He didn’t even care as held you down on him, letting you whine and cry out, muffled by his hand as he snaps his hips up, grunting in your ear. 

“I can’t come there right now ‘cos ‘ve got more things to worry about already an’ yeh couldn’t do one thing fo’ me,” He yells through the phone before asking you, “You gonna come baby?” Seriously, Harry, What the fuck. 

You felt your heart thumping against your chest, legs quivering, feeling the pulse of his cock inside of you, notifying you that he was close to the edge too. You just wanted him to hang up the phone because this wasn’t the right time when you were about to reach orgasm. 

You had enough of his talking, not in the mood for games as you reach behind you to grab the phone from between his ear. “He’ll call back later,” Is the only thing you say before hanging up.

Harry stares at you with disbelief because of what you just did. You pull yourself off of him, immediately feeling empty when you stand up and then sit down on your knees in front of him.“What the fuck, love? Tha’ was an important call.”

“Oh shut up,” You roll your eyes, staring at his glorious skin that was inked with art. Your hand cups his chin, making him look at you, his jaw slacking when your free hand grips his shaft and stroked your hand up and down, having a firm grip on it as you stare into his eyes. His raspberry pink lips part when your thumb runs over the tip, eliciting a moan. His green eyes look at you as if he’s helpless and at your mercy, pleading you to go faster. You grin at him, knowing that he just wants to wreck you.

His hand suddenly reaches to grab your throat, your other hand holding his wrist. Harry grins back before smacking your hand away and lifting you on top of him again, wanting to fuck you. His hand grabs the flesh of your ass, spanking it, sending a wave a pleasure up your spine. 

“Wanna be bad huh?” He chuckles, your jaw clenching in annoyance.

He pulls your face closer to his, lips touching but not moving, just gliding across each other. He makes sure to hold you down on him, gliding his forearm around you hip to keep you still, gripping his cock and lifting you a bit until his cock is back inside of you, fucking into you at a fast and hard pace. You get choked up as you moan into each other’s mouths. You close your eyes, moving your hips back to go with his rhythm.

You rock back more, his hand still on your throat, gripping it firmly. You cry out and lean your head down into the crook his neck, feeling overwhelmed with everything. You felt your orgasm approach as your body starts to shake when he took a last, deep thrust into you, you clenching around him as you reach your climax. 

“Fuck, baby,” He drags out breathlessly, pulling out of you and coming hard on your stomach. You ride out your orgasm on his thigh, Harry doing the same, thrusting hips slowly as his cum paints your stomach and core. You see him rest back against his sofa again, head leaning back as his chest heaves, breathing heavily. 

“Tha’ was so good,” He moans, making you giggle against his neck which he laughs at. You kiss his neck slowly and sensually, your hands going to his hair  to intertwine in his messy curls. 

“Feel better?” You grin as you stare at each other for a second, you pecking him on the lips.

“Mhm,” He hums, kissing you back. “But don’t hang up the call next time.” 

Your jaw is agape as you pull back, looking at him in disbelief, “You shouldn’t have answered the call in the first place!”

Harry shrugs, eyes lingering over your body. He brings his hand to your stomach, dragging his hand down your core that was covered with his cum. He lifts it up to your mouth and you part your lips to suck on his fingers. He parts his lips at the sight of you with his fingers in your mouth. 

You swirl your tongue around the tips of his fingers, licking the cum clean of his fingers and swallowing the sweet and slightly bitter taste of him. 

“’m glad you came,” He chuckles, pulling you towards him again to kiss your lips. 

“Glad I came too,” You emphasize, literally and figuratively speaking. 

He chuckles against your lips, wrapping his arms your body tightly while you straddle his waist, arms latched around his neck. 

“Now eat!” You command with a stern look. 

“Think ‘m full,” He teases and you smack his arm, blushing red. 

“Love you, angel,” He mutters against your lips, gazing into your eyes with his that were filled with love and honesty. 

“I love you too, bastard,” You both chuckle, kissing each other one last time before you lift yourself from his body to grab him the food from the table. 

At least he’s not stressed anymore. Well, for now.


filthy af, bye

anonymous asked:

Bts reaction to you telling them that you're not wearing underwear (and you're wearing a skirt). You're the BEST smut page ily 💜

[Jk]

~ He’s shook. Repeats what you said ~

“You’re not wearing underwear”

~Gulps… ~

~Looks at you… ~

“Oh wait until I get you alone.”

[Jh]

~ He’s not happy about it ~

“Really?”

“What if the wind blows? I don’t want everyone looking at your ass!”

[Yg]

~ He’s very concentrated working ~

(You) “You know… I don’t have anything under this little skirt…”

~ He instantly spins his chair to look at you ~

“Come sit on my lap then.”

[V]

~ You’re in public so you whisper it in his ear. He smirks ~

~ A second later he inches close to you and pretends to be looking at something but you feel his hand going up your inner thigh. ~

[Jm]

~ You’re at the dorm and someone can get in at any moment.~

“You know you shouldn’t walk around like that right?”

~ Can’t help but smile a little even thought he’s trying to be serious ~

~ Loosing it ~

“Oh God”

“You know what? I don’t care, come here”

[Jin]

~ He wasn’t paying attention ~

“Wait, what??”

Originally posted by 95--95

[Rm]

“You’re telling me that cause you’re all wet for me aren’t you?” 

by: TopBtsSmut

gif © - ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

Byun Baekhyun//Dyeing To Meet You

Summary: Everybody knows that soulmates have the same hair colour - and your soulmate, wherever he is, is to be blamed for the ridiculous hair colour you woke up with this morning. - A/N: for the sake of this AU, just pretend your hair doesn’t get damaged when you dye it.
Scenario: Soulmate AU, fluff
Word Count: 3,021

Keep reading

Walking Out During Fight~BTS Scenario

I love freaking angst, tell me if I should do a part 2 or not.

Masterlist

Jin

Originally posted by bwiseoks

“Y/n!” His voice echos through the wall, it made you jump from the spot you were at on your bed. Your hair a slight mess from against the pillow, and your eyes puffy from how tried you have been. Your job had been pushing you and pushing you leading to late nights and longs mornings.

“Yes Jin?” You call out following where his voice was, as you step into the kitchen he looks around. Dishes piled up making you tilit you head. swearing you had done them.

“What is this?” He asks pointing to the mess of the kitchen you frown as your hand reachs to run through your hair.“You have one job, one that I plead is just with you to do the dishes. Just to clean them so when I get home I can make dinner.”

“Jin, I’m sorry I swear I did. Okay I’ll do them now. Okay?” You grumble going to the sink only making him slam his hand down onto the counter

“That’s not the fucking point Y/n! I wanted them done before I got home, from a long day at the studio. Being an idol is not easy Y/n. So I can make you and I dinner. But you know your lazy ass doesn’t even kn-”

“Lazy! I’m lazy?! I work 12 hour shifts daily and the past week over time due to my company and another company joining and us being under fucking stafed. So sorry Jin, I get that being an idol is hard but it’s not the only tiring job out there!” You push past him, and walk to the door, your hand pulling shoes over your feet.

“Y/n!” He yells after you a worried look on his face.

“Nope.” You grumble opening and slamming the door walking away.


Suga

Originally posted by dreamyoongi

“No Yoongi it isn’t like you have a girlfriend.” You grumble under your breath, his head snaps to you with a raised eyebrow. He had been working in BTS comback none stop which is perfectly fine. But now that ‘Her’ is out you believed he would’ve slowed down and actually spend time at home, with you. But here he was sitting at his computer, his fingers typing away and you sitting on the couch picking your at your fingernails.

“What was that?” He grumbles making me glare as you look back at him.

“What do you think?” You snapped making him spin around in his chair and look at you.

“I’m working. You understand that, don’t you?” He pleaded with you, his eyes looking at yours as you shrugged. “Y/n, come on,you know this is important to me!”

“So happy to know where I stand.” You mumble standing up, opening the door you hear his chair fall onto the ground.

“You walk out I swear to go-”

“Isn’t like your home at all to come through with your threat. So their just like your promise, empty and full of lies.”


J-Hope

Originally posted by boo-t-s

You had been waiting for him to come home from practice, which should’ve ended an hour ago. Which ut did due to the group chat blowing up with memes and lame jokes from Jungkook and Jin. But you sunshine still has not come bounding through the door, and when he did he was sweating his hair sticking to his forehead. “Hobi where were you?” You question him, his dark eyes look at you then to the floor. His dance bag dropping to the floor as he shrugs.

“Practice,Y/n.” He mumbled his body moving past yours, your grew worried when he bumped into you and winced. “Fuck.”

“Oh honey, let me he-” he cut you off with a growl, his eyes holding a cold glare at you.

“No, I don’t need help. With my dance, or with anything. God just leave me the fuck alone.”

“I just wanted to help.” You whisper ,your head bowing making him scoff.

“Just go away god!” His eyes watch you, a cold stare making a shiver run through your body.

“Fine.” You numble turn on your heel, and walking out the door slamming it behind you.

Rap Monster

Originally posted by slapmon

Spinning around in his work chair you couldn’t help but click your tongue. He was busy with memorizing the lyrics and you thought bringing him dinner would be a nice Jester since he probably wouldn’t be coming home. But before you had grabbed you things to join him, he texted the grop cjat, with you in it and was ranting about how needed space, the boy didnt even hint at him typing and sending it to the group chat with you in it. So it was no surprise when he came into his studio his face went fom joyfuy and full of excitement do confusion and annoyance.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, when you grabbed the bag of food, a single boxof rice and some pork and tossed veggies his smile grew again. “Oh, thank you babe.” You smile at him then grab another bag.

“Change of clothes, blanket, some shampoo and bathing stuff so you don’t have to steal Suga-oppas, a few notebooks.” His eues widen as you stand up.

“Your not staying?"his question made you raise your eyebrow at him.

"Do you want me to?” His face fellll as he shook his head no. 'The why ask?“

"Because you usally do, and I was hoping you werent because I love you but Ive fel-”

“Sufficated? Trapped, yesh I know, wrong group chat by the way.” Your words made his eyes widen as he went to grab your hand.

“You wer-”

“I know, but I did.” You whisper made his step back as you push past him

“I love you.” He mumbled making a tears fall.

“Do you love being with me though.” And you walked out his studio making his heart break.

Jimin

Originally posted by jimiyoong

“Jimin just stop!” You snapped as he tried to push himself to workout, his body falling to the ground. That dudnt even stop him, his eyes glare at you as he stand and starts to do it again. “You know what fine, faint for exhaustion and dehydration for all I care!”

“Can you support me for once?!” He growls stopping his body turning to you as he limped over the sorness of his muscles finally getting to him.

“Not when your destroying yourself. God Park Jimin.” You say as he stands in front of you.

“I’m not destroying myself, you’re just holding me back!” At this you turn on your heel and walk out making him go and try to chace after you onlynto fall to the ground calling for you.

V

Originally posted by mvssmedia

“Stop being a child!” Your voice screamed at him, his body sitting down on your shared bed. He had chosen to hide you cell phone and laptop which you needed due to a very important project you were doing in s group.

“Baby I gave them back don’t be all pissy about it.” His words made you roll your eyes as you cross your arms.

“I couldve been done with my part, and spent the rest of the night with you and actually get some sleep. But you had to be a little brat and waste all of my time!” He let’s out a laugh quickly covering it up with a cough. You scoff and turn around and walk out of the room.

“Now who’s being a child!”

“At least I know when to stop being one!” And slam with the front door echoing in his ears.

Jungkook

Originally posted by 7bboys

“Can you not be a child for once.” He snaps making you jump back,the rest of the boys looking at him with wide eyes.

“Kook she was just laughing.” Jin spoke putting a hand on your back. Jungkook rolled his eyes and turned back to his video game.

“Yeah, I know. It’s her trying to be cite laugh and it-”

“Shut up Jeon Jungkook.” You snap, crossing your arms, your lower lip jutting out naturally.

“See now you’re doing the stupid pouty lip thing.” He grumbled making you glare at him, he rolls his eyes at you pausing his game.

“Piss off you asshole.” You say standing ip, his eyes watching as you walk out of the dorms.



Part 2 is split up in two parts {Vocal Line} {Rap line}

Excruciatingly Normal

I was running a 5e one-shot wherein the players were officers under an airship captain. During one engagement, the druid shifted into a small animal and hid in the captain’s bag, as circumstances limited the amount of people they could obviously bring with them to an encounter. They got into a fight, the druid shape-shifted without leaving the bag first, and the poor captain was then down one bag.

The airship was currently parked in an impoverished fishing village, so the druid didn’t have a lot of options.

Druid: I search the town for someone who can make me a new bag for the captain.

DM (me): Alright, roll investigation. (He rolls moderately well). You find an old woman sitting on a rocking chair, spinning yarn. She appears to be somewhat of a craftswoman.

Druid: I approach and say, “Hello, Hag! I require a bag”.

DM (me): Uh… do you say exactly that.

Druid: Yes.

DM (me): *Rolls an insight check for the woman to see how much she’s insulted, rolls low* Ok, she takes it as a light-hearted greeting and answers “Alright deary, I’ll have it ready in three days.”

Druid: “But I didn’t tell you…”

DM (me): “I’ll have it ready, don’t you worry.”

Party Cleric: That bag’s going to be soooo cursed.

Three days later

Druid: I go back in the morning for the bag

DM (me): Alright, you walk to her house and find her on her porch, knitting a sweater

Druid: “Hag! I have returned for the bag”

The rest of the party is between laughter and trepidation at what she gives him.

DM (me): The old woman goes back into her house, and returns with a normal leather bag. She holds it out to you.

Druid: Arcana check? 

He rolls well

DM (me): Inspecting the bag, you find out that it’s completely normal. Glaringly normal. Almost  excruciatingly normal, this leather bag.

The party then spends the next ten minutes freaking out over a completely mundane bag, before giving it to the captain. He wonders why they look so nervous after he takes it, but doesn’t bother to ask.  

love letters ❥ peter parker

summary : peter, hopeless romantic that he is, has a cache of love letters, all addressed to you, hidden under his bed and expertly crafted. he never anticipated them being read, or the feelings he has for you being returned.

word count : 3.1k (holy fucking hell i’m sorry)

   Peter couldn’t help it, the way that he was. He was a romantic at a heart, though the awkwardness of him had a tendency to prevail rather than the confident, smooth talking, small part of him that had a desperate desire to reveal itself. Spider-man was as suave as a fifteen year old boy could be; Peter Parker was awkward, inept at participating in normal, human conversation and often incapable of forming coherent sentences more often than not. He wasn’t the best at talking to people besides Ned and Aunt May and- on occasion- Tony Stark. Especially not you. If there was one person that he turned into an absolute bumbling, ridiculous mess around, it was you. He loathed himself for it, sure that you thought that he was weird, annoying, the same way that anyone who didn’t know him assumed he was. 

   Ned, however, continuously insisted that you found Peter to be a sweetheart, like anyone who got to know him well enough did, and that you liked him very much- perhaps more than a friend, though Peter had immediately scoffed at the notion. It was out of the question, downright ludicrous. But, of course, Ned had implanted the idea in Peter’s head, and now the boy’s ever creative mind refused to stop constructing various scenarios in which you were Peter’s girlfriend and he was as happy as he had ever been. 

    While he had been a perfectly charming boyfriend in each and every one of those little dream sequences of his, he was hopelessly lost for words whenever you approached him, unable to even ask what class you had next, let alone reveal the pure adoration he had been holding on to ever since you had been placed beside him in Bio in your freshman year. You had always been the one to stick up for him and smile at him and treat him like a decent human being, and so of course he fell for you, and now he could barely look you in the eye without his cheeks turning a lovely shade of pink. So, he bottled his feelings and let them out in a way he had never known could help him.

    He wrote. 

    He wrote to you every single day and poured his heart out in every single letter and expressed every thought he knew, in his heart, he would never be able to say out loud. Writing what he felt was so much simpler than saying the words out loud. That was what he assumed, anyhow. He took his pen and placed it down on the paper, starting it the same way he always did. 

   Dear Y/N… As always, the words spilled over from his mind to the paper as if he wasn’t thinking, just writing and writing and writing until he had filled two pages without lifting his curly head from the paper once. When he finally finished, a yawn stretching across his mouth, he noticed Aunt May standing outside his door. He turned his chair around, raising his eyebrows at her. 

   “Writing to that pretty girl again?” She asked, hand on her hip but wearing a knowing, soft grin. Peter, not bothering to feign shock, nodded solemnly and placed his pen down the paper. “You should think about maybe, oh I don’t know, actually giving her one of the letters you’ve written?” 

    Adamantly, Peter shook his head. “May, I could never. You don’t get it.” He swiveled around in the chair, spinning it until he was dizzy. “These letters are embarrassing. They’re practically my whole heart and soul on a piece of paper. She’d scream and run away if she read how I felt about her.” He sighed, placing his elbow on the edge of the desk and resting his cheek in his hand. He stared up at his aunt, still craving her sage advice. May stared back at him thoughtfully. 

   “Well, in my personal experience,” she came over and gave Peter’s shoulder a squeeze, eyeing the letter that was signed with Peter’s name, “girls are suckers for love letters. And you Parker men write the best ones out there. Trust me.” 

   Peter bit his lip. “Yeah, sure, I’m not an awful writer. But, I still can’t give them to her. I just can’t.” Before she could say anything else, he was folding it up and placing it on top of the shelf on his desk next to his books for English. “Uncle Ben was different. He was charming. You know that.” 

    May smiled wistfully. “I do.” 

    “And that’s one thing that I didn’t get from him,” Peter finished, shrugging his shoulders as he stood up from his swivel chair. “It’s fine.” He waved it off. “I’m happy suffering in silence. I’m gonna go to bed. Big English project starts tomorrow. Love you,” he kissed May on the cheek as she left his bedroom, switching the light off in her departure. He stared at the wall once he was situated in bed, mulling the conversation over in his head. Maybe May’s right. Maybe telling Y/N wouldn’t be as bad as I’m thinking. Maybe I’m overreacting. Actually, never mind. She probably hates me. Ugh. Life sucks. 


    That morning, when he arrived in his English class, you were sitting in the seat that had been previously occupied by Ned pretty much every class since the beginning of the school year. Sucking in a breath, Peter took his first step into the classroom. He knew he was a little late to today’s lesson, but he hadn’t realized he was a full fifteen minutes behind schedule. Ned was in the back with Michelle, giving Peter an encouraging thumbs up when he noticed his best friend finally arrive on the scene. Peter gave him the finger. 

   “Mr. Parker, lovely for you to join us!” Ms. Matthews declared when he decided to shove himself through the door, his heart jackhammering away in his chest and making its way up to his throat. He kind of wanted to throw up. 

   “Um, yeah, well, you know, sleep and whatnot- overslept, haha,” he coughed out a laugh, scratching the back of his neck. The teacher nodded with faux sympathy, though he could tell she didn’t care that much for his explanation. “I’ll just, um, sit. Down.” 

    “Next to Y/N, please,” She instructed, waving her hand in your direction. “Since you were late and unable to choose your own partner, surprising since usually Ned is so eager to work with you, Y/N offered to be your partner.” The teacher gave you a fond smile, as every teacher did. “She can explain the details of the assignment.” 

    Peter gave her a stiff nod before sliding into his chair, and you noticed how rigid he was as he turned toward you with a slight frown. He seemed extremely upset to be working with you, but you wouldn’t let that get in the way. You liked Peter. Really, truly liked him. He was a sweetie whenever he actually talked to and different than the rest of the guys at Midtown. He was genuine.  

    Giving him your full attention, you beamed at him. “Hey, Peter,” you said cheerfully. He gave you a small smile in return, wringing his hands under the desk. He couldn’t stop fidgeting. Your own smile dropped, which he noticed immediately and felt awful about. “Sorry you didn’t get paired up with Ned,” you continued, taking your books out of your shoulder bag. “I know you would’ve preferred it that way-” 

    “No!” He interrupted quickly, practically slamming his hands down on the desk so hard you jumped in your seat, eyes wide. “Sorry, sorry, I just, um,” he laughed a little, his cheeks burning, “I’m, um, happy to have you as a partner. Really, I am,” he added as an afterthought, just to make sure you knew. 

   Your shoulders relaxed as you looked at him. “You’re not just saying that, right? You seem awfully stiff,” you teased, poking his uncomfortably positioned arm as you quirked a brow. 

    “Do I?” He was practically sweating. 

     “I was just joking, Pete. It’s cute, anyway.” Peter’s eyes, a shade of brown that you had come to think of as warm as honey, went wide and he gaped at you, but you pretended not to notice. “So, for the assignment we have to write a short story based on one of the assigned reading books this year.” 

   She called me cute

   “Shit… I think I forgot all of mine,” you were mumbling, your head practically stuck in your bag. “Did your bring yours, Peter?” 

   Oh my god, she thinks I’m cute. She thinks I’m cute. I’m going to faint

   You snapped your fingers in front of his cherry red face, trying not to appear as amused as you felt. He blinked owlishly, an apologetic half smile, half grimace on his face. He was cute most of the time, but especially when he smiled, even if it was only a forced, awkward one. “Do you have your books, Peter?” You repeated kindly. 

    “Um, sorry, I’ll check,” he answered, embarrassed about his utterly obvious staring that had just occurred. He rummaged around in his backpack before realizing he had forgotten them, as well. He popped back up, curls in disarray as his head brushed against the fabric of his bag. “I forgot them, sorry,” he ran a hand through his hair, messing it up even more. It was kind of adorable.

   “You need to stop apologizing for everything, Pete,” you laughed. “It’s fine. We can get started after school. My place or yours?” You were already packing your things, and before he could think about what he was about to do, he said, “Mine.”   

    “Cool,” you grinned again, a grin that made him want to smile for the rest of his life. “Which one of is doing the writing? Or do you want to split it?” 

    “You’re a, um, fantastic writer,” he told you, having read your submissions to the school newspaper more times than he could count. “If you wanna take over, you can. I can edit and stuff.” 

    “Aw, I’m not that good,” you shook your head abashedly, looking down at your lap. “But thank you, Peter. I’m sure you’re great, too, though. Are you sure you don’t wanna write some of it?”

    “I’m not much of a writer.”


    So, you were in Peter Parker’s room. He was having his third heart attack of the day, and was incredibly grateful that he had managed to keep his wits about him for majority of the day. He had only tripped over his words five times, tripped literally twice, and dropped his Metro card once, but it was fine. You helped him back each time he fell with your usual grace, barely acknowledging his multiple social faux pas and only laughing once because he fell over a small dog- which even he would admit was pretty funny. 

   Still, his palms were sweaty around you and he didn’t know how he was going to survive working so close to you for the next week while the English assignment was occurring. He lead you into his apartment and you noticed that his hands were shaking slightly as he twisted the keys in the lock. You walked into the apartment, the first thing crossing your mind was how cozy and homelike it was. You liked it very much. 

   “It’s really cute in here,” you said, smiling around the room as Peter busied himself with a glass of water. He downed it quickly. “Where’s your aunt?” 

   “Work,” he replied, catching his breath after the gulping down of his water. “Here, let’s go to my room.” He placed his glass of water on the counter and motioned for you to follow him, opening the door to his room and wincing at the mess in there. “It’s a mess, sorry about that.”  

   You rolled your eyes at him playfully. “Didn’t I say stop apologizing?” You entered his room as if you had been there many times before, taking your shoes off and setting them by the door. You threw your bag on his bed and took a seat in his swivel chair, and he liked how natural it seemed for you to be in his room. He liked how comfortable you were, sitting there. Something about it made him happy. 

   “Yeah, my bad,” he shrugged. You tilted your head, pointing your finger at him while he raised his hands defensively. “It wasn’t technically an apology!” He took a step out of the room. He was finally being normal around you, he realized delightedly. He would still need more water, though. He could feel his mouth getting dry. “I’m gonna get more water. Want anything?” You shook your head, spinning around in the chair as he left. 

   Your eyes scanned over his desk, taking in every inch of Peter Parker’s life. He had bad books stacked everywhere, his desk was a mess, there were clothes thrown about the room. Star Wars posters, Avengers posters, notes scattered across the desk. You admired the artful messiness of it all. You leaned up to where his English books were, spotting the one you were most interested in and yanking it off the shelf. As you did, a folded piece of paper fluttered down off the shelf, just when Peter was walking back into the room. 

   “I thought you said you weren’t a writer, Pete,” you raised your eyebrows at him, holding the letter in your hand and waving it at him. 

   He almost threw up right there. “Um, I’m not, please give that back,” he reached for it, but you jumped out of the chair, raising the letter high in the air. “Y/N!” He whined, grabbing for it again. “C’mon, please,” he pleaded desperately, pouting at you with such intensity it almost made you want to give it to him. 

    “Can’t I just read a sentence, Peter?” You pushed out your bottom lip, batting your eyelashes at him. 

     He almost gave in. “No, Y/N. Seriously, give it back.” He sounded scared now, upset as well. You pursed your lips, handing it back to him. He was so anxious about you reading it that it dropped on the floor, opening far enough so that you could see your name scrawled across the top in Peter’s defining chicken scratch handwriting. 

    “That says my name, so now I have to read it.” You stood directly in front of Peter, hands pressed together in a pleading motion, the expression on your face so genuinely interested that he had to give it to you. He picked it back up with a lump in his throat and handed it over, scared as ever. But this was what May had advised. Maybe she’d be right. 

    “Dear Y/N,” you read aloud in a loud, terrible accent, glancing back up at Peter as you read the line after that. He was staring down at the floor, preparing himself for what you were going to say when you read the letter, read his heart. You sat in his chair, realizing it’d be better if you didn’t read it so publicly. He sat down on his bed, waiting. 

   Dear Y/N. This is maybe the tenth letter I’ve written to you, and each time I say the same thing, so if one day you are reading this in proper succession, I’m sorry for being so utterly repetitive. You’ll probably never read this, though. And that’s why it’s so easy for me to write. I think you’re the only person to ever truly be interested in me when I’m talking about science. Not even Ned has an attention span that long. But you do. And you don’t know how much I want to thank you for that. You make it really difficult to not like you, to not be in love with you. I think that’s what it is… love. And if I’m not in love with you yet, then I’m certainly falling for you. Who wouldn’t? You’re a wonderful person without trying, you’re a beautiful hurricane, a sunset on the horizon of my bleakest hours, and you make me feel as if I’ve been standing in the sunshine for my entire life. 

   You put the letter down, smoothing it over your lap. You didn’t need to read the rest. That was enough. Peter gazed at you now, the way you’ve yearned to be looked at before, and you shamed yourself for being so blind these past two years. He wasn’t simply just staring. He was looking. Admiring. You slid next to Peter, placing the letter behind you. He moved his hand, curling his fingers around yours tentative as ever. Your free hand grazed up the side of his face, toying with the hair on the back of his neck before resting on his cheek. He shut his eyes. When he opened them again, you were so close that he was able to count each individual eyelash that you had, every single fleck of pure beauty in your deep eyes. 

   “I like you very much, Peter Parker,” you murmured. He felt his heart soar, and then, he felt himself kiss you. It was an out of body experience. He was there, he was the one kissing you, the one who had initiated it, but it felt like he wasn’t. He was up in the clouds, too far lost in the way it felt to run his hands through your hair as he had always dreamed of to notice Aunt May sneaking past the door, overjoyed to see Peter finally with the girl he had been loving in silence for far too long. You pulled away from each other, eyes opening slowly and hesitantly and your lips practically still connected. 

   He wanted to tell her that he adored her, but Aunt May’s voice flowed from the kitchen too loud to overpower his thoughts. “You read her the letter, didn’t you? I told you it’d work! Worked for your Uncle Ben and I was right as I always am!”

   He jumped up from the bed, sticking his head out of the doorway and pressing his finger to his lips. “Maaaayyyy, you’re embarrassing me,” he whispered-yelled, practically whined. “You were right, okay? Thank you, let me go get a girlfriend now. The girlfriend.” She beamed at him, but no one’s smile could shine brighter than Peter’s. 

    He retreated back into the room, and you were clutching the letter in your hands. You looked up at him hopefully. “I was thinking that maybe you could read me the other nine letters. If you’re up for it.” 

    Peter couldn’t possibly say no, taking a page out of his Uncle Ben’s book the way he should have done in the first place as he found the hiding spot for the stack of letters he had been writing for the past few months, sliding them over to you and feeling confident for the first time in a long time.

“Jack,” Bitty whines, throwing his head back. “I am so tired. I can’t do this anymore.”

“Come on, Bits. You’re almost there,” Jack says encouragingly.

“But I’m so sleepy,” Bitty complains. “My arms are heavy. My fning—ah!” Bitty huffs. “My fingers hurt. Listen, I’m slurrin’ all my words.”

“Look at me.”

Bitty spins the desk chair to look at Jack, and pouts.

“You do look tired.” Jack gazes at him, eyes narrowing.

So tired,” Bitty professes. “I’ll finish up tomorrow.”

Jack sighs. “That essay is due at nine am.”

Bitty bites his lip. He’s well aware of that. “Sleep though, Jack. Sleep.”

“You hate waking up early,” Jack points out with a raised eyebrow.

“Once every now and then is fine.” Bitty tries to say it with conviction.

Jack puts his bookmark in his paperback. “How long until you’re finished?” Jack asks. “Referenced and proof-read finished, not first draft finished,” he adds before Bitty can reply.

Bitty shuts his mouth against his automatic response of twenty minutes.

“Uh… Maybe an hour?”

Jack checks the time on his watch, which he’d placed on the bedside table earlier.

“Alright.” Jack stands up and stretches, then gestures for Bitty to come over to him.

“Thank god,” Bitty mutters under his breath, saving his document and shutting the laptop without powering down.

He drags his body over to Jack’s and falls into him. He wraps his arms around his boyfriend and presses his face into Jack’s chest, breathing deeply. He loves how Jack smells. Like soap, and his deodorant, and a little bit of sweat.

Jack’s hands crawl up Bitty’s back, under his shirt, and he rocks Bitty gently side-to-side. Bitty swears he could fall asleep just like this.

Then Jack’s hands start to wander; down to Bitty’s ass, slipping under the elastic of his track pants. Bitty shivers as Jack’s nails scratch the skin, and when he leans back to ask Jack what he’s doing, Jack kisses him.

Normally, when Jack initiates, it’s soft—he appreciates a slow build up. Tonight is different. Jack pushes against Bitty immediately, leaning into him and over him so that Bitty’s body curves back harshly, and Jack seems even taller than normal.

Jack kisses and kisses, his lips moving and sucking on Bitty’s with fervour. Bitty matches him, suddenly wide-awake, and his hands move to bury themselves in Jack’s hair as he attempts to meld his lips to Bitty’s.

“Oh my god. Jack,” Bitty pants and Jack moves on, kissing harshly down his jawline. Bitty’s lips feel swollen and tender when he bites down on one.

Jack pulls back and smiles down, flushed, eyes alight. “How do you feel?”

“I don’t know,” Bitty confesses breathlessly, still reeling from the enthusiasm and spontaneity.

“Awake?” Jack asks.

Bitty nods frantically. “Oh yeah. Definitely. Yes.”

“Good.” Jack steps back from Bitty, and grabs his shoulders to turn him around. He leans in close, chest pressing against Bitty’s shoulders, and puts his lips against Bitty’s ear. “Now, go finish your essay.”

Jack shoves a speechless Bitty back toward the desk.

Keep reading

2

Text from Nichelle Nichols’ biography “Beyond Uhura”

Usually, though, Leonard remained Vulcan-cool. Perhaps the most elaborate hoax involved his son, Adam, who about eight years old while we were filming the original series. It required that Adam be fitted in a child-size Starfleet uniform and be made up, ears and all, to look just his daddy.

The script called for a scene on the bridge in which Spock would be sitting in the captain’s chair with his back t o the elevator door. A yeoman was supposed to enter and say some lines, at which point Spock was to spin around in his chair, so he was facing the yeoman, and continue their brief exchange.

They had Leonard’s son, in his Vulcan disguise, waiting in the elevator. The door opened, Adam delivered the yeoman’s lines, then Leonard turned to him and answered without breaking a smile or missing a beat.

We couldn’t get so much as a Spockian arched eyebrow out of Leonard. The real kicker came when Adam “stepped out of character,” so to speak, to say, “But, Daddy, I love you.”

“Thank you, Adam,” Leonard said evenly. As the whole cast and crew stood around in breathless anticipation of Leonard’s big crack-up, which never came, by the way, the joke was on us.

BTS Reaction | Make-out session.

Request; ‘Hi I love ur blog and was wondering if u could d a Bts reaction where you have a heated makeout session and they want more’

A/N; Thank you for the request ^-^  

Kim Namjoon

Namjoon would be the one to initiate the kiss as soon as he walked through the door of your shared apartment, pulling your body flush against his own. His lips would be quick to attack your own, not giving you a chance to say anything. Slowly he’d begin to lead you to the bedroom, never once letting his lips leave yours. 

Stumbling through the bedroom door and over to the bed, he’d part your lips, slowly pushing you down so that he could climb on the bed to hover over you.  “Since we’re already here, I mean, why don’t we?”

Keep reading

When Duty and Desire Meet Chapter 4

Art by @edendaphne , words by moi!

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

Read on AO3
Read on tumblr

~

Valentine’s Day Part 2

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh-huh.”

“As Marinette.”

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

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

“Tru’ dat.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Unfortunately, Alya dodged the fluffy projectile with ease.

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

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

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

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

Did she cross his mind?

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

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

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

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

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

“You’ll figure it out.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

Adrien was on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

When had things ever gone the way he planned?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Adrien?”

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

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

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

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

Her blinking.

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

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

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

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

But he couldn’t care less.

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

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

His brain collapsed in on itself.

“I’m good-good too.”

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

“Good! That’s good!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was going to be a long night.

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bad habit huh? Marinette had one of those too.

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

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

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

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

“No rose tonight?”

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

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

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

“An apology.”

Marinette’s blood ran cold.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chat felt his claws digging painfully into his palms.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Marinette didn’t say anything, but laughed once.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Like he needed an excuse to get closer to her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dangerous he thought as his tongue flicked against her lips.

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

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

He didn’t stop.

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

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

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

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

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

(art to follow)

Studio

Hoseok is stressed about his upcoming mixtape, so you decide to swing by his studio and help him relax.

pairing: hoseok x reader
genre: smut, fluff
wordcount: 5k
inspiration




You hadn’t seen Hoseok in a week.

For the two of you, a week was a long time. You were missing him. You had quickly gotten used to your routine with Hoseok since he had returned from the tour a few months ago. You both worked during the day and you shared your evenings together. It was your nights with Hoseok that you missed.

You had grown accustomed to falling asleep to his soft snores and reaching over to poke him abruptly when his snores were too loud. You had quickly adapted to how you would both wake up sometimes in the middle of the night, suddenly overcome with lust, needing each other right then and there. In fact, those were some of your favourite nights with Hoseok, when at 3am, he had you moaning with your underwear around your knees, and his hands wrapped around your neck and your stomach as he made love to you. 

Of course there were harder nights with Hoseok- nights when he was so exhausted he practically collapsed into bed, saying nothing, just wanting to hold you close to him. Or the nights when you would fight, arguing about small things that didn’t really matter, the two of you falling asleep prickly with irritation. Nevertheless, you appreciated all of your nights with Hoseok, the difficult ones, and of course, the good ones. You knew quality time with Hoseok was rare, so having your nights with him was something you valued. 

So when seven nights passed without Hoseok, seven lonely nights, you were all too acutely aware of just how badly you were missing him.

Keep reading

Spinny Chair 1-A Headcanons

  • Shouji’s chair always being lowered as much as possible and still no one being able to see behind him.
  • Sero putting little balls of tape on the wheels so they end up getting caught on the guard things and people fall over when they try to wheel themselves anywhere too fast.
  • This happens the most to Kaminari, Mina and Iida.
  • Wheeling Todoroki around to bizarre places and leaving him there while he is asleep has become a class meme.
  • He never mentions it and they’re not even sure if he’s noticed it happening.
  • Kaminari is never facing the front completely, usually he’s sideways on or spinning around and no teacher can get him to sit still.
  • Various chair jousting and other dangerous sports are played in most free time when they’re in class.
  • Ojiro absent-mindedly shoving his entire tail through the back of the chair (it’s not bad quality or thin material he’s just that strong) and making massive awkward holes in about 5 chairs.
  • The back of Aoyama’s chair is pockmarked with corroded patches from when Mina gets too excited and he hates it with a passion.
  • Kaminari got Mei to make him a motor that would spin his chair around in a circle on the spot that he activates in class, Aizawa tells him to put his hands on the desk bc he assumes he’s fiddling with something under his chair but the contact is where the back of his blazer rides up and the motor is hidden so he can activate his quirk and spin his chair however fast he likes (usually slowly and with a shit eating grin) while holding his hands up and playing innocent.
  • Momo constantly having to make new wheels and screws because no one in this class can sit still and not break stuff can they.
  • Mei gave them rockets and Sero taped Kirishima to a chair while they set them off so he span super fast.
  • His quirk was supposed to make it the safest but he smashed through a few desks and still got concussion.
  • I wish I could say that was a one time thing but their ‘experiments’ happened multiple times until Mei was banned from talking to any of them for a month.
  • Once Asui’s tongue got caught up in the wheels. It was very painful and a horrible experience she was very embarrassed for a long time. 
  • Bakugou leaning back too far in his chair, losing balance, then exploding his entire desk a few days later made her feel a little better though.

Bruce walks into the batcave, where Tim is sitting at the computer with Steph spinning on a chair next to him

Bruce: Hey, Tim, I need your help on a case 

Steph: C-A-S-E, case 

Bruce: What… What the heck was that 

Steph: T-H-A-T, that 

Tim: She’s practicing for a spelling bee 

Steph: B-E-E, bee 

Bruce: Um, okay? 

Steph: O-K-A-Y, okay

Bruce: Please stop 

Steph: N-O, no 

Bruce: *glares* 

Tim: Just ignore her, B. So what’s up? 

Steph: U-P, up 

Bruce: *still glaring* There was a body found by the woods, and it’s a known associate of Two Face 

Steph: T-W-O- 

Bruce: Stephanie! 

Steph: F-A-C-E, Two Face! 

Tim: *ignoring their bickering* What was the cause of death? 

Bruce: *hesitates, then looks at Steph and smiles evilly* You know, it was actually vivisepulture 

Steph: V-I-V-E… V-I-V-I-Z………… I HATE YOU!!! *stomps away* 

… 

Tim: Well, that was childish 

Bruce: She started it