stall face

anonymous asked:

Any headcanons on Izuku and Katsuki boarding a crowded train and they keep rubbing against each other on accident?

They try everything in their power not to rub on each other. Izuku stretches his body as far as he can from Katsuki…. Though it ends up not working out. The train is so unbelievably packed, thanks to students going home from school, and adults heading home from work.

It leaves Izuku and Katsuki to cram against one of the back walls of the train, right near the doors. Izuku squeezes himself close to Katsuki now, facing him. His struggle to keep any distance is short lived, since more people enter the train last minute.

“At least its not too long of a ride..“ Izuku says, sheepishly and Katsuki just grunts in response. He can already feel their bodies are probably /too/ close together.
Izuku’s face is a light shade of red, but he thinks the two of them can handle being this close for now– their stop is only four in, so its only about 25 minutes at most!

Everything seems like it’ll go well! That is, until the train starts moving.

Every jerk, every bump, every time someone knocks into Izuku, the two of them feel their groins touch. Katsuki grumbles and subtly tries to back up, but it isn’t working. Izuku is constantly getting bumped and they keep ending up right back on each other.

“Fuck, Deku.. back up! ”

“I-I can’t, Kacchan.. I’m not /trying/ to be so close..” He mumbles embarrassed. How awful would it be if they continue the entire way home like this?? Izuku doesn’t think he can handle it. Being pressed right up against Katsuki… Fighting his urge not to make a sound because the continuous rub and contact is actually starting to feel kind of good– Its a torturous game, and he just can’t do it.

“Well, figure some shit out..!”
Izuku notes quickly that Katsuki isn’t going to be able to handle it for much longer, either. In fact, he’ll probably lose his cool a lot faster than Izuku does.
Izuku is sure that his boyfriend will bend him over right there, if this keeps up.

Suddenly, an idea pops into Izuku’s head. He starts to twist and adjust his body carefully, until he’s facing away from Katsuki. His ass may be getting pushed and rubbed against Katsuki but.. that’s better, isn’t it?

“M..much better..” Izuku nods to himself, already thinking maybe he can last like this. Katsuki on the other hand… doesn’t feel the current position is making much of a difference.

“You made it worse, fucking Deku!” Katsuki says between gritted teeth. Why does Izuku have to have a nice, round, ass like that? Why does it have to move, and push back on him while the train moves?? Katsuki can feel the heat pooling in his groin. If Izuku’s ass keeps unintentionally grinding against his dick, he’s going to lose it.

“I-Im sorry, I dont know what else to do- I can’t move anywhere Kacchan..” he whispers. Then, the train rattles again suddenly. It causes Izuku to stumble back, and he braces his fall by pushing back against Katsuki again.

As he’s about to readjust his stance though, his face starts to heat up darker.

“K-Kacchan…” he swallows hard, glancing back. “Are.. are you-”

“Don’t fucking say it Deku.. what the hell do you expect??” Katsuki’s ears are tinted red.

Yeah, there’s no hiding it. He’s getting aroused. It’s next to impossible to hide something like that in such a cramped territory.

“I- I’m sorry Kacchan..!” Izuku’s blush is rising higher, because the erection of his boyfriend is starting to become far more noticeable with every jerk. “What should I do?”

Katsuki narrows his eyes then, as he looks down at Izuku. He slips his hands down to rest on Izuku’s hips causing the latter to gasp softly from unexpected touch. He holds Izuku’s body close and leans his lips down to rest against his ear.

"I could fuck you right here. ” Katsuki whispers bluntly.
That sends a shiver down Izuku’s spine, and he swallows thickly. He shifts his eyes back to give a subtle glance at Katsuki, before looking down again. The blush is obvious on his face, and he’s trying his best to keep himself from getting too excited.

“Th-that isn’t– um. That’s not… it’s not a good idea.” He tries to reply with out making it obvious that Katsuki’s words got to him. Though he can feel the smirk thats forming on Katsuki’s face. “Th..there’s people here.”

Katsuki keeps his lips pressed on the freckled boys ear.
“Isn’t that the best part? I can fuck you right here, nice and slow, and everyone in the entire fucking train will know you’re all mine.” He gives Izuku’s ear lobe a light bite.

“K-Kacchan..” he mumbles and begins to feel his own arousal. He shifts in place slightly, though it doesn’t help ease up any tension. “Stop… ah!”

Suddenly Katsuki is biting at his neck. /Hard/. It causes Izuku to make an unintentional sound, and the people surrounding them turn to look. They give judgemental stares, and turn their attention back to their own bussiness. Though its hard to ignore the two of them. Katsuki is continuing to bite and kiss at Izuku’s neck deapite the crowd. “Kacchan..”
Izuku whimpers slightly, but catches himself. He furrows his eyebrows and quickly elbows Katsuki in the side. “Kacchan stop that–!”

“ow- what?? I can’t help it! You’re lucky I’m not already fucking you senseless.”

“Shh!! Y- you’re talking loud..there’s other people here..!” Izuku reminds him. He gives subtle glances around at the people who pretend that they aren’t staring and giving dirty looks.
Katsuki just sighs and tightens his hold on Izuku’s hips. He stays quiet for a few moments, then hears the announcement for the next stop approaching. A smirk forms on his face and quickly he grabs Izuku’s wrist.

“C'mon Deku.” He starts pushing them through the crowd, making their way to the closest door. Izuku blinks, confused, but follows his boyfriend’s lead.

“um- Kacchan this… this isn’t our stop. ”

“Yeah I know. But ya really think I can wait another 20 minutes??” He asks. And once the train comes to a complete stop, he yanks them out. It’s busy, but he’s shoving his way through everyone and ignoring the remarks being thrown their way.

“Kacchan w..where are we going? ” Izuku asks, after giving fast apologies to the ones they pushed past.

He gets them into the station, before scoping out a bathroom.
“I’m gonna fuck you good in one of those stalls.”

Izuku’s face is bright red now, but he knows theres no way out of it. Not that he truly wants to get out of it… He’d be lying if he said he didn’t want this too.
“Kacchan..”

“huh?”

He got them into the bathroom now, and luckily the largest stall is open.

“… make sure the entire station knows I’m yours.”
Katsuki gives a loving smirk, as he slams the stall door shut. He’s pushing Izuku up agaist the wall, and steals a deep, forceful kiss.

“Don’t worry, baby. They will.”

I know I’m late but that’s cause originally I wasn’t gonna do it but then I came home and saw everybody posting pics so… here goes.

My name’s Mekayla, she/her, and I’m bi. (but shush, haven’t told irl people yet)

I’d like to officially announce that I love @thatsthat24 (among other things)!

Ficlet! 

[From: My Little Pigeon] I don’t feel well

Lance hides his phone under his desk and frowns at the text.

[To: My Little Pigeon] what’s wrong???

He glances up to the teacher then back to his phone while he taps his foot impatiently and twirls his pen around as he waits for a reply. However, five minutes pass with no new texts, so he taps out a second text. 

[To: My Little Pigeon] Pidge?? U okay??

Another five minutes pass, and Lance is as tense as can be. Worry swells within his chest as his thumbs fly across letters on his phone.

[To: My Little Pigeon] Katie holt if u don’t answer me I’m gonna assume the worst and call cops, paramedics, firemen, the fbi, everyone Pidge. I’m gonna call everyone if u don’t answer me right now

When two minutes pass with the only text coming from Hunk, Lance makes a decision. He quietly gathers his things and exits the classroom, shooting the teacher an apologetic wave as he opens the door.

He takes a sharp right and starts toward the math hall. He knows Pidge’s schedule by heart, and he skids to a halt in front of the “Advanced Calculus” classroom only seconds later.

He peeks through the small, glass window with a frown. Pidge isn’t in her usual seat in the back corner, but her bag is.

Bathroom, Lance’s mind supplies, and he takes a quick glance around until he spots a women’s bathroom by a pair of vending machines at the end of the hall.

He approaches the door and hesitates with his hand pressed against it as the “WOMEN” sign stares back at him, but his worry triumphs, and he slowly pushes the door open with a muttered apology.

For a second, the bathroom appears empty and silent, but a sudden loud, gagging sound echoes from the back stall, and Lance’s face falls.

“Pidge?” He asks as he swiftly walks toward the last stall. “Are you okay?”

“Lance?” Pidge questions, voice surprised, but any other words are cut off as she heaves into the toilet once more. 

Lance winces at the sound and places a hand on the cool stall door. “Let me in?”

After a minute, there’s a rustling sound followed by the click of a lock, and Lance slowly pushes the door open to see Pidge scrambling back to the toilet. He watches with furrowed brows as she presses up on her knees and heaves into the toilet again. 

Crouching down, he places a hand to her back and moves it in small circles. The heat radiating from the small girl is alarming, but Lance opts to voice his concern once Pidge isn’t puking her guts out.

For minutes, Pidge fights a losing battle against nausea. At one point, Lance briefly leaves to wet a paper towel. He presses the cold, rough fabric to the back of her neck, and Pidge has just enough time to breathe out a grateful “thanks” before another wave of nausea has her retching into the toilet.

Three times the bathroom door opens, and Lance hears disgusted female voices followed by the door slamming closed. Fuckers, he thinks to himself. 

Finally, after a long ten minutes, Pidge stops, and she flushes the toilet and allows Lance to pull her to her feet and out of the stall.

Lance walks her to a sink, and as she rinses her mouth out, he studies her.

While she’s normally as pale as can be, her complexion matches that of a ghost. There’s a grayish tinge mixing with a crimson flush colored across her cheeks. She’s also slick with sweat, but her entire body is shaking.

When she turns to him, he doesn’t hesitate to press a palm to her forehead, not surprised to find it burning.

“You’re sick.”

“You’re in the girl’s bathroom.”

Lance tilts his head and puffs out his chest. “I would cross the deepest of rivers for you, my little Pigeon!”

Pidge rolls her eyes, and she wants to laugh, but her cramping stomach has her glancing back to the stall with nervous eyes. 

Lance catches on, face dropping back into a frown. “Okay, let’s get you back to your dorm.” He grabs her wrist and starts quickly toward the door with the mindset of the faster the better, but she grinds to a halt, and Lance turns around with just enough time to see her throw up down her chest. 

“Pidge,” he says softly, but she jerks her wrist from his hand and turns toward the sink, gripping the edges and bowing her head.

Lance watches her shoulders shake, and he knows she’s crying. Do something, his mind yells, and he drops his bag to the floor, shrugs out of his jacket then slips his shirt off.

“Here,” he says softly, and she looks up with welling eyes, but the silent question is still there.

“Just until we can get you back to your dorm.”

She nods and takes the shirt into a stall. Seconds later, she comes out with her dirty shirt balled up in her hands. Lance’s blue shirt hangs down to just above her knees, but he figures it’s enough until they get her back to the dorm.

Pidge shoves the balled up shirt in her backpack then shoulders it and staggers slowly toward the exit, but Lance stops her with a hand to her shoulder.

“Lance, what-”

Lance slides his bag from his back then crouches in front of Pidge with his back to her. “Hop on. You look like you can barely stand.”

Too tired to decline, Pidge slowly climbs onto Lance’s back and drops her face against his shoulder as he slowly stands and starts out the bathroom.

“I feel like death,” she mutters, and Lance nods sympathetically.

“Never fear,” he mutters, voice light and soft. “Mighty Man Lance is here to save you.”

2

kc + getting their hands dirty

2800 Miles Away (Song-Fic)

Leonardo (2014/16) x Reader

Notes: Thank you for requesting!! I made this into a semi-song fic because I found a great song for it.

Prompt: “How about something with ether Leo or Donnie where the reader (their crush) goes to school out of state and they return in the summer and surprise the boys. But they’re different somehow (their hair is shorter or their more fit or they gained weight, etc)”

Song: Blackbear - N Y L A

Word count: 1075

Warnings: Sadness

Disclaimer: I don’t own TMNT, and you belong to you <3


“I have a question. So like, when something is suspicious we say ‘Something smells fishy’. Why do we do that? Why is fish-smell suspicious? What did the fish do?” Leonardo looked up at you from his place on the couch, a small, confused smile on his face.

“I’m going to miss you, and your stupidity.” Rolling your eyes, you sat next to him, giving him half of you sandwich and taking a bite of your own.

“I know you will.”

You were going on an exchange program with your school, you were to leave for LA that night, and you weren’t happy about it. Your parents thought it would be good for you, and signed you up for the whole summer with three other people you didn’t even talk to.

You’re in New York / I’m in LA

You looked down at Leo’s sleeping form on your couch, leaning down and kissing his forehead softly. Neither of you were together, but you were best friends. You hadn’t had the heart to wake him up. He’d never been apart from you for so long, especially without anyway to contact you. His phone’s service didn’t really reach that far.

We’re oceans away / I’ll be asleep at the time you’re awake

He didn’t want you to leave. He couldn’t function without you there, his head wasn’t right, and he felt like he wasn’t in control of everything. He’d gotten up from the couch at 1AM, finding the note in your kitchen. ‘I love you, I’ll see you in 3 months.’

He knew there was a way to get out of it; he got Donnie to find out the program online. Leo was hurt that you didn’t even take it into consideration. You just brushed it off.

He wouldn’t stop you; he could tell you wanted to go, even though every time he asked, you denied it, saying you’d rather spend your summer with him.

I know that you’re hurt / But I’ll make it work / I’ll make you stay

He couldn’t make you stay. You left, and the door was still unlocked, the key still in the door. Kissing the note, he went back to the couch, and sat there for a while before getting up and leaving quietly. It was too hard to be in there without you.

I’m in L.A. / You’re in New York

You got to your room in the big house you were staying in. It was like something from a movie, tall ceilings, and big rooms. But it wasn’t New York. It wasn’t your cramped studio apartment with a broken toilet and a bed too big for the tiny bedroom. It wasn’t home. 

I missed you today / So bad that it hurts

You cried into your pillow for God knows how long. You were pretty sure the people you were staying with thought you were crazy. You should’ve woken him up. You should’ve said goodbye. You should’ve done a lot of things. But you didn’t and you were going to regret it for the next 3 months.


My heart it burns, yes it burns / 2800 miles away / And I’ll be asleep by the time you’re awake / So I’m calling to say

He tried calling your cell countless of times, he’d even gotten Donnie to try and broaden the connection, but he could only reach Chicago if he stood on the couch with his hand in the air. Leo tried to keep himself preoccupied, and tried to ignore the searing pain he felt whenever Mikey mentioned you, or Raph asked how you were. Leo didn’t know, and it’d been a whole month. You could be hurt, and you could be sad. Or worse, you could be happy and forgotten all about him.

That’s what hurt the most. The tiny possibility that you were so happy over there that you didn’t care to come back. 

I’ll make you stay / Until that day I’m one plane ride away 

The hair on the ground covered your feet, sticking to them as you paced back and forth in the grand bathroom of this unknown house. You missed him so much it hurt. If it was a week, fine, but it had already been 2 and you couldn’t keep up the happy smiles anymore. You need to be home, in Leonardo’s arms. 

Do you feel the same? / Do you feel the same?

He was a wreck without you, but like you, was too proud to show it. He kept up his confident, serious appearance, but behind closed doors he was a lost puppy, needing a home. His home. He needed you.

Hearing a tap against the wooden door of his room, he hoarsely shouted that he’d be out in a second, wiping away any tears on his face.

He was taking too long; he was stalling. How can he face his brothers again after crying for hours straight? He had his good days, where he would carry on like normal, but then he’d have his really bad days, where all he wants to do it hold you and hear you tell him it’ll be alright.

Another knock, and then another. It became irritating very quickly. Groaning he got up and swung the door open to reveal you. 

I’ll make you stay / Until that day I’m one plane ride away

You were in his arms, on the floor; both of you just holding each other in his doorway.

Your hair was shorter, your makeup was darker and you were a hell of a lot thinner then when he last saw you. You were different, but your hugs weren’t any different, your chin on his shoulder wasn’t any different and your eyes. Your beautiful eyes, still the same color that left. He smiled, and you smiled. And that’s when he kissed you, and you kissed him back.


7

pride was good and as usual i forgot to take selfies bc i get lost in the moment
BUT i got a demi flag and i love it
also got to take a selfie w/ the wtnv ALL HAIL poster bc they are coming next month and i am PUMPED (still have to listen to that new episode though i am stalling)

Interrupted

Summary: The one where Cheryl interrupts B&V in a bathroom stall

Word Count: 1,078

Rating: PG-13 (smutty but nothing extremely explicit…)

A/N: anon request! changed it up a bit though.

———————–

The door to the bathroom crashed open. Veronica’s head popped in and within seconds, Betty was being pulled into the bathroom along with her. “Betty shut the door.” Veronica asked, and without so much as a sound Betty did as she was instructed. “Do you seriously think we have time before first period?” Betty muttered while Veronica checked under the stalls. “We’ll make time.” The pair had practically claimed the Riverdale bathrooms as theirs. Whenever people saw them disappear into one together they knew to stay clear. This one in particular smelled faintly of cinnamon rolls and hand sanitizer. Both girls didn’t mind, just glad it didn’t smell like pee. If they had the choice they would have used the handicapped stall, simply because it gave them more room to work with. The hand rails were an added bonus. A big white sign was plastered over the handicapped stall door, ‘out of order.’ Betty huffed, “Figures we pick the bathroom with the out of order stall.” She rolled her eyes in annoyance.

The blonde was caught off guard when she was pulled into the stall next to it and pressed up against the, now closed, door. “Whoa there tiger.” Betty purred when she felt Veronica’s lips against her neck. Soft plump lips searched for any piece of exposed skin on her body. Veronica knew just the places to kiss her to make her knees weak. Veronica’s fingers ran through Betty’s hair seamlessly, loosening her ponytail as she pressed her lips against hers. Betty made a mental note to readjust her ponytail after this, she was not too keen on the idea of getting weird looks from her teachers. Her ponytail was always pristine, just how the blonde wanted it, a reflection of herself. All those thoughts of perfection flew right out of the window whenever Veronica and her were alone. Veronica always tasted slightly of mint, such a familiar taste by now. Betty kissed her deeper. Now it was Veronica nearly falling into the toilet, Betty all over her. “Goddamn it Elizabeth Cooper” the girl cursed. Fuck you Betty, she thought to herself. Fuck you for looking like that, for touching me like this. Veronica bit down hard on her lip to stifle a moan, but it slipped out anyways. Her moan only served to boost Betty’s confidence. Veronica liked to be on top, she wasn’t the submissive type, but she let Betty take control in this very heated moment.

The height difference was more obvious each time they found themselves in these high school bathrooms. Betty kissed over the exposed bit of Veronica’s neck, just as Veronica had done to her only moments before. Betty earned another moan from Veronica, louder than the previous. The blonde’s soft lips traveled over Veronica’s neck, tilting it to the side so she could gain even more access. Take control of me, Veronica thought to herself. Betty dominating her was sexier than she ever thought it could be. Maybe, just maybe, Veronica would be the submissive more often.  Betty’s hands palmed Veronica’s breasts through her checkered J. Crew dress. No doubt there would be a hand print on this dress that no amount of dry cleaning and pressing would be able to get rid of. Betty was just so…aggressive…sometimes. Veronica shrugged off the thought, the dress wasn’t all that important. If it had somehow ended up on the disgusting bathroom floor, she wouldn’t mind much at all. Everything Betty did was flowing right through her bones like pure ecstasy. When Veronica felt her lace panties pushed to the side and two of Betty’s slender fingers enter her, the feeling of ecstasy shot through the roof. Veronica’s breath hitched, “Betty…” she huffed, another loud moan filling the silent air around them. Veronica kissed over Betty’s face, trying to show her some sort of gratitude. Betty was awfully quiet, and Veronica was the one being so damn loud. “V, quiet.” Betty mumbled against the girls’ desperate red tainted lips, her lipstick partially worn off from kissing Betty’s face. Betty kissed Veronica, to shut her up. As much as she loved the moaning, desperate, wet, submissive Veronica, Betty wasn’t too fond of getting caught in this bathroom fingering her girlfriend.

“Who knew you were so loud, V.” Betty laughed. Veronica attempted to challenge Betty but failed horribly when another one of Betty’s fingers slipped into her. “Fuc-” Veronica nearly shouted, being cut off once again by Betty’s lips. The damn handle to flush the toilet was digging into Veronica’s back even more so than before. She struggled to relieve the stabbing feeling in her back. The pain was relieved by Betty, who pulled her off the handle only to push her harder against the wall. Veronica laughed, “Just when I thought you might let up.” Betty shook her head, “When have you ever known me to let up when I’m three fingers deep in you?” A raised eyebrow countered Veronica.

A loud slam came from outside the stall, “Fuck.” Betty whispered, her fingers leaving Veronica feeling empty once again. A soft whimper followed. Soon came a knock on the stall door, Cheryl’s usual bitchy tone broke the silence, “What the hell are you sluts doing in there?!” Betty rolled her eyes, sensing that Veronica did too. Just like Cheryl to come and ruin their fun. Veronica grabbed Betty’s wrist, giving her the usual eyes she gave the blonde whenever she was going to take care of things. Betty, astonishingly, shook Veronica’s hand off and slammed the stall door open, coming face to face with a shocked Cheryl. Betty’s face was covered in red lipstick, her body standing dead center between Veronica’s spread legs. Veronica was surprised at Betty’s behavior, a soft blush appearing on her face when Cheryl looked at her.

“Care to join?” The usually shy, non-confrontational Betty snapped at Cheryl. Cheryl looked her up and down, eyes still wide, grabbing the stall door and closing it behind her. “I’ll leave you two alone…” Her voice was shaky. She certainly hadn’t expected to encounter that. Everyone had suspected that Betty and Veronica were fucking in the school bathrooms, among other places, but no one had ever caught them in the act. As soon as Cheryl left the bathroom, the girls burst out in a fit of laughter. “Think she was turned on by us?” Betty asked, helping Veronica up off of the toilet. Veronica nodded her head fervently, “Who wouldn’t be? We’re hot.”

anonymous asked:

79. For Shiro and can I request that they get trapped somewhere together. If not that's okay thank you.

kyoootee!! in this drabble (not really anymore) SHIRO IS THE SAME AGE AS YOU.


The smell of alcohol. Tipsy and drowsy voices oozing from the bar. 

Unfortunately, you were one of those voices

You’d only take one shot. One. You even promised Pidge and Allura you’d be sober the time you came back to your dorm. 

Well, you obviously took more than one.

Luckily, the rescuer came due to a worried call from Allura - “She could be passed out right now”, she protested - the faithful Takashi Shirogane.

Once Shiro stepped into the bar, a whole different atmosphere hit him. “Damn,” he whistled, taking in all of it. He wore casual attire - simple black denim jeans, some Nike sneakers, and a military green jacket slung over his tank top(ed? tanktopped?) shoulder. Focus. Find Y/N.

“Excuse me, but have you seen a girl with ____ hair?” Shiro asked the sober bartender, “Really easy to spot; she possibly broke the bar’s record for the amount of shots taken in one sitting..” He stopped when he saw her grin widely, her white teeth sparkling in the dim lights. 

“She’s in the bathroom,” she gestured to the women’s restroom, “she’s a fucking legend.” Her name - Sandra - got called from the other side of the room. “We’re closing soon, thougn, so be careful.” She winked at Shiro and walked away. 

So Shiro reluctantly walked up to the girl’s bathroom and slipped in quietly, with nobody noticing.

“Y/N?” He tried not to yell, leveling his voice so it didn’t show how fucking scared he was to be seen here.

Allura was right. You were knocked out in a stall, the door half open. Sighing with relief, Shiro gently shook you awake. 

Wait what th- the fu-” 

“Y/N, it’s me, Shiro. I’m going to take you home-” He’d been stopped and yelped in surprise as you fell onto him with all your weight. You had been seated on top of the toilet seat and when you fell you had knocked the two of you onto the ground, exposing your faces (the stalls don’t go all the way down so you can see people’s feet :D). 

“Y/N? I need you to get up -”

NooOo! Y/N wants to stay.”

“Shiro wants to leave, and I’m taking you with me.” His eyes glistened with determination, grunting as he struggled with you. I need to get her on my back so she can piggyback me.

Suddenly, the lights went out and Shiro, to his terror, heard the bathroom door lock switch, the noise loud and clear.

You screamed. Shiro fumbled for his phone and turned the flashlight on.

“We stuck, space captain?” Your words were still slurred.

“Afraid so. I can try to call Keith or Allura.”

Giggling, you grasped his hand to his surprise. He flinched at your touch. “Y/N, I need to get us out of here..”

“Let’s stay here.” your laughing eyes stared up at him, your crooked smile prettier than anything in the whole world.. And at that moment, Shiro was done. He’d hidden feelings for you, certain that you had a crush on Keith. His heart had been stabbed, his eyes wild with lust. 

“This is your fault, by the way.”

Shiro dropped his phone as he leaned down to put his lips on yours. Obviously, you were unconscious of anything you were doing because - you were drunk. So you kissed him back. And damn, did it feel good. His warm tongue was hungry, wanting to devour you. You made noises loud enough to echo across the whole college campus.

He let go of you after what seemed like sweet seconds, the two of you panting heavily. There was a loud bang on the door, and the second savior of the night appeared. Pidge’s smirk was obvious. They’d heard all of it. 

“Hey Piidge,” you said drowsily, then dropped your head onto Shiro’s lap in exauhstion.

“I swear Pidge, if you tell anyone-”

“Oh, I won’t.”


end.

#14 The 300

A/N: A while ago I got a prompt to write an extension of the stakeout makeout, and while in that particular scene I don’t think they would be able to extend it a lot, because they were working actively, and they’re too professional for that. And as Alejandra kindly pointed out, it’s very uncomfortable chasing after a guy with a boner (thanks for that babe now I got that image stuck in my head for eternity cause wouldn’t that be fun to see). But the last part of this is written with another set of circumstances, and I hope you’ll like it just as much.

I know you guys have been asking me for fluff, and I’m giving you smut instead. I hope that’s okay :D

Keep reading

Iced Cream

[[Summary: Based on a conversation I triggered late in the game. Jaal surprises Ryder with an Earth treat she never thought she would eat again. As always, comments are very, very appreciated, and suggestions for future story ideas are welcome.

Rating: T

Word count: ~1300

Pairing: Ryder x Jaal

AO3 here!]]

“It smells like someone bathed a sewer in dust and called it a day. Why are we on Kadara anyway?” The semi-lawless planet had to rank up near the top of Jaal’s least favorite places, making his insistence that they pay a visit all the more baffling. Though they hadn’t been together long, comparatively speaking, Wren Ryder actually preferred to leave Jaal on the Tempest rather than listen to him complain about how unpleasant it all was. To be fair, he had a point- Kadara had a charm best described as ‘rough,’ and for an Angara used to jungle worlds and lush cities, it had none whatsoever. His kind didn’t frequent it too often, though the number of Angara willing to stretch out their realm of experiences grew by the day.

“It is a surprise. It will make your jaw drop. Not literally. That is an idiom.” Sounding more proud of himself than he ought to be, Jaal carefully guided Ryder through what felt like the market area under her feet, across ground that mercifully sloped gently enough that she didn’t trip and fall on her ass.

“I know it’s an idiom, Jaal.” At least this time she kept the exasperation from her tone. It wasn’t Jaal’s fault that human speech was so complex, and that at least three quarters of their phrases simply didn’t translate into Angaran at all. “And I’m already surprised we’re even here in the first place.”

Finally, his gloved hands dropped from her face, though the bright light of the dock city sent Ryder into blinking furiously for a few seconds until the world finally settled into shapes she could understand. “You took me to… a market stall?” It was the same salarian she had bought popcorn from, all those weeks ago, for the movie night. He did tend to carry interesting things, but last she heard he didn’t have anything particularly exciting or novel. “Okay, I’m stumped.”

“Close your eyes again, just for a second.” With a huff, Ryder did so, curious enough that she was willing to play along for the time being. “And now you may open them.”

Another burst of dazzling, dust-dappled light. Still facing the stall, something new had been added to the picture, something Ryder had never expected to see again, despite the rumors that had passed her way just a few weeks before.

In a single glass bowl, cut and pretty in the sunshine, lay a perfect scoop of chocolate ice cream, a single spoon stuck in it. It was incongruous, this human treat served in a stall staffed by a Salarian, on a planet that held only the loosest of ties to humanity in general, and with an Angara by her side. It was so perfect that it looked almost fake, except that she could see where it had already started to melt, dropping and forming a thick layer at the bottom that she had called ‘ice cream soup’ when she was a child, and had insisted on eating whenever she was sick. “This is for me?” Not the most intelligent statement, but she was rendered blinking and uncharacteristically silent.

“It is good? It is actually the human ‘iced cream’?” Jaal drew out the syllables in the last words, his accent providing a lilt and roll that was so utterly foreign that it felt perfect.

With what could only be described as a squeal, Ryder turned and flew at him, arms around his neck and squeezing him as tightly as she could manage. “Jaal, this is, without a doubt, one of the most beautiful things I have seen in this galaxy so far. It’s perfect.” She released him equally quickly, picking up the bowl and taking that first blissful bite, a burst of flavor that took her six hundred years into the past, to sitting around a table with Scott and debating the finer merit of one of their favorite vids, to nights with friends, to a Prothean dig that ended in a celebration crowned with an unexpected ice cream sundae bar, shipped in with great expensive from the Citadel. How much had this even cost Jaal? She didn’t want to think about it; instead, she closed her eyes and just surrendered herself to something she never thought she would get to experience again. It was perfectly cold, but not so cold that it gave her a brain freeze. Perfect.

“You have to try some, Jaal. Please.” Though she wanted to save every precious bite for herself, she turned and offered him the treat, smiling broadly up at him, feeling him smile back. He seemed surprised by the force of her emotion, but hardly displeased.

“I do not know if I can eat this, dearest one, but I will try.” Cautiously, he took the spoon into his mouth, taking the smallest bite possible and holding it there, clearly unsure if he was supposed to let it melt or chew it or let it slide down his throat as is. “It is… interesting,” he finally concluded. “Refreshing,” he added after a beat, as if it was surprising that something cool would taste so good in hot weather. “But the rest is for you.”

Trying not to snatch it back too eagerly, Ryder finished those last few spoonfuls faster than she had taken her first, a need to eat it before it melted winning out over luxuriating in the bliss of flavor. “I can’t thank you enough for this. Seriously. This is… incredible.” Words weren’t sufficient to explain what this meant to her, but words were all she had, even if she wasn’t the best with them.

“I told you that you would express your emotions better. Perhaps there is more Angara in you than I thought.” A second later, Jaal blinked, puzzled at Ryder’s sudden, explosive laughter, attracting attention until she managed to pull herself back together. “What did I say? Was it a human idiom?”

“No, just phrasing and… I’ll explain it later. Not here.” Back on the Tempest, maybe. Or better yet, she could have Liam explain it, if only for the joy of seeing how uncomfortable she could make the two. Friendship was all about how much you could make them blush, after all.

Jaal’s hand reached up to brush against her face, cupping it gently until a single finger just barely wiped against her lips, a moment of fleeting touch before it returned to caressing the rather prominent line of her jaw. “You ate that rather quickly. There is still some on your face.” He laughed then, a deep, bass sound that never failed to make her heart thump and make her skin feel electrified, though that could have just of easily been from him. He controlled it well, but the pulses could be stronger during moments of heightened emotions, and suddenly Ryder was most definitely NOT thinking of her childhood.

“Luckily, I can clean that up,” Jaal continued, and then he leaned forward and their lips met, Ryder’s arms around his shoulders and his around her waist as they leaned together. She had gotten better about being so self-conscious, but a whoop from a nearby Turian alerted them and they broke apart, Ryder blushing red and Jaal still laughing, their eyes not leaving each other.

“So when do I get ice cream again?” Ryder finally said, and then laughed as Jall groaned and rolled his eyes as much as Angaran physiology would allow.

“I am taking you back to the ship for a full cleanup- there is some of the iced cream on your shirt as well,” and Ryder found she couldn’t argue with that.

The One in Which You Want to Divorce Him // pt. II // l.h.

(mobile) masterlist

word count: 2.3k+


as requested, here is a continuation to toiwywtdh. it isn’t exactly a direct part two, but rather a sequel. hope you enjoy! (you do not have to have read the first part to understand this one.)


Finlay hugged his wailing baby sister closer to his body, which, in comparison, wasn’t that much bigger than hers. After all, he was just three years her senior, though, nevertheless, his heart pounded and clenched as the urge to shield her rushed through his veins. His parents had taught him the minute she was born to protect her at all costs. And he would and was. It didn’t matter to him who was older, Finlay would protect his baby sister even, if he were to be the baby brother. And that wasn’t because she was a girl (Adelaide was in fact very skilled at biting and scratching), but because he loved her with his whole tiny heart, and Finlay fiercely protected the people and things he loved. Like that one time his mother had tried to throw out an old toy of his, but Finlay had insisted on keeping it. He told her, it held special meaning to him and therefore he loved it and why would one throw away something one loved? To this, his mother had no reply, and so she let him keep his battered unusable toy.

“It’s okay, little sissy,” he whispered against her cheek, as he sat wedged in a corner behind a massive plant in their living room. One of his arms was carefully supporting her head while his other one was wrapped around it, his tiny hand stroking her soft blonde hair. Gently, he rocked his body—first back and forth, then from side to side, desperately trying to calm her down. But his attempts were in vain, as nothing could drown out the screams and shouts in the background. Little Finn had never heard his parents fight this loudly and long, and he feared they would never stop. He couldn’t even remember how long he’d been sitting in his safe corner, cocooning his infant sister. His butt began to hurt with the weight of her.

Some moments later, after a slam of a door upstairs and ear-piercing silence, Finn could feel Adelaide’s tense body relax in his arms. She laid, facing him and snuggled against his body, sucking on her pacifier with her inner arm resting on her tummy while her other one clung to his shirt. The whimpers stopped falling from her lips. Instead her eyes began drooping and fluttering until they kept close. Finlay let sleep pull her deeper under before he dared to stand up—a rather difficult task with a tiny human in his arms, he found. Shielding her body, he stepped out from his hiding place behind the plant and padded towards the couch, where he could see his father’s figure sitting with his head hung in defiance. Walking up to him, Finn felt a tiny stab of fear in his chest as the memory of his raised voice echoed in his head, but just like that, it was gone again.

“Daddy?” he whispered, careful of his sleeping baby sister in his embrace.

His father didn’t turn around right away, though he raised his head and a hand to it. Finn could hear a sniff, and then finally his father faced him. His face held sadness and pain, but he painted it with a shaky smile.

“There you are, buddy,” he said, voice breaking. “Come here,” he said, holding a hand out. Instead of pulling Finlay on the space beside him on the couch, he rather pulled both of them on his lap, one piled on the other—Luke, Finlay and then Adelaide.

His father kissed both of them on the head.

“Daddy, are you okay?” asked Finlay, looking up at his father in worry. He wanted to reach one hand up and trace the harsh lines of his mouth, but he feared he would disturb his little sister with that tiniest bit of movement. So instead he leaned into his broad chest. He felt a touch on his head—a soft flutter, soft and calloused fingertips running through his hair. Then the touch left him and Finlay saw it moving on to his sister’s tiny hand. He watched his father’s fore finger gently trace Adelaide’s arm—from her own fingertips up up up, all the way up to her shoulder. And then down down down again, before he placed his finger into her palm, urging her to hold him. Finlay watched his baby sister’s hand clutch his father’s fore finger in response. Her fingers wrapped around his and then they let go again and then she held him again—all the while pulling him closer.

“See, it’s a reflex,” his father whispered to him. “At the age she’s at, they’ll automatically put anything in their mouth they’ve got in their hands. Even in their sleep.”

Finlay stared up at his father in confusion. “Then why you do that, Daddy? Addy’s gonna eat you! Daddy have to let go,” he said in horror, reaching and trying to unclasp their grip.

His father chuckled. “She’s not gonna eat me, Finn,” he said, pressing a kiss to his head, still laughing softly, though it quickly died down. “I just want her to hold me for a while, you know?” He smiled at him as his free arm came around his shoulders and cuddled him closer to his body. “I just want to cuddle with my two favourite tiny humans for a while, okay?”

Finn nodded against his father’s chest. “Okay, daddy,” he said.

After a moment, Finlay wondered how long a while actually was, because his father had been holding them for a long while and he couldn’t keep his eyes open any more. But he also didn’t want to disturb cuddle time, since he knew how much his father cherished those.

A thought hit him. His father loved cuddle time the most when his mother was included, and right now, she wasn’t. Finlay seemed to forget all about the reason why they were in this situation in the first place, but he’d already decided that maybe his father would cheer up, once they all cuddled together.

“Daddy?” he asked into the silence.

A breath. “Yes, baby?”

“Can you hold Addy for a while?” Finlay lifted his sister’s sleeping form an inch into the air, requesting his father should take over.

“Sure thing, buddy,” he responded, snaking one arm under her head and the other under her bum. Careful not to disturb her sleep, he tilted her form towards his shoulder and leaned back—his neck on the arm rest—so he was lying on the couch with his feet propped over the other arm rest, as he was too long to fit on the entire thing. Adelaide raised her fist above her head, but then stilled just as sudden, breathing softly on her stomach.

Finlay, who was at this point standing beside them, turned on his heels and headed for the stairs.

“Where are you going, little man?” his father’s raspy voice stalled him.

He faced him again and grinned. “It’s a surprise!”

///

Finlay found his mother lying in bed and cuddling the pillow from his father’s side of the bed, which confirmed his theory. If they cuddled each other, they would get all better. Softly, he padded across the floor and climbed the bed. “Mommy,” he whispered, laying his body right next to hers, so they were facing one another.

Just like his father, his mother shot him a shaky smile in reassurance. “Hi, baby boy,” she said back, raising and pulling him with her at the same time. “Where’s your little sissy?” she asked, placing Finlay in her lap.

“She’s downstairs with Daddy. Wanna come?” Finn asked his mother, as he wrapped a strand of her hair around his little finger and then unwrapped it again. He kept his eyes lowered and his bottom lip puckered—a secret trick he’d learned from his father.

A hand smoothed over his head. “Baby, I think it’s best if I stay up here for a while. Daddy and I aren’t playing nice right now, you know?”

Finlay looked at his mother then, big-eyed. “But Daddy is sad right now. Just like you.”

“But that’s just it, Finn. Your daddy and I, we’re making each other sad, which is why it’s best, if we don’t talk to each other for a little while.”

There it was again—that word. A while. His father had said it as well, and Finlay found that a while—no matter how little it might be—was a very long amount of time. The thought of his parents being sad for that long saddened him as well, and he was sure that, should they all be sad at the same time, Adelaide would grow sad as well, and then they would just be one sad family. This conclusion was a very sad one, Finlay felt like. He wasn’t sure what the right approach to stop all of this sadness was. After all, it was always his parents that made him happy again, whenever Finn was sad. They’d make him his favourite sweet treat and then turn an upbeat song on full volume or sometimes they’d sing him one. Maybe that was what his parents needed—for him to sing them a happy song.

///

Finlay was on a mission now.

Grabbing a chair from the dinner table, he dragged it all the way to the stereo machine and climbed on it. He rummaged through his own collection of audio books and CDs and found his favourite. After he inserted it into the slot, he picked up the remote and clambered  down again. Finlay’s favourite song began to play throughout the living room, causing his father’s head to turn in his direction. “What are you doing, Finn?”

Finn grinned, running up to his father with his little toddler feet. He grabbed for his hands, urging him to get off the couch. “Daddy, I’m making you and Mommy happy again!”

His father chuckled. “Is that so?”

“Yeah!”

“Alright, alright! Let me just put your sister in her crib,” he said, getting to his feet and carrying Adelaide to her crib. Then he came back and asked, “So, what is your game here, huh?”

Finlay answered, “When I sad, you and Mommy always make me happy again. You play me happy songs and then we dance!” He jumped on the spot, excitement rushing through his veins. “Daddy, I wanna dance with you and Mommy and then we all gonna be a happy family again!”

His daddy crouched before him so they were face to face—or at least as best as they could manage. “Yeah? Is that so?” His father smiled at him softly to which Finn grinned back and nodded. “Well, buddy, then we gotta wait for your mommy to show her face or else your brilliant plan won’t unfold as planned.”

They both turned their head to the stairs, watching for a figure to appear. “How long do you think it’ll take her to come and see what’s going on?” asked his father, right the moment as his mother descended.

She stood at the foot of the stairs. Tucking her hair behind her ears, she squinted her eyes at them, as if she could smell the mischief on them. “What are you guys doing?”

Finlay wasted no time and jumped his way to his her. “Mommy come dance with us!” Like with his father, he grabbed for his mother’s hands and pulled her with him.

“Uh, Finn, baby boy, I don’t think—”

“I think you heard the man, darling,” interrupted his father. He stood up from his crouch and instead lowered himself into a bow, extending his hand. “May I have this dance, m’lady?”

Finn saw a tint of red colouring his mother’s cheeks. “Luke…” she sighed.

A silent “please”.

And then they were dancing. Slowly, rather than quick, like the song dictated. They swayed on their feet, arms around each other, his mother’s head on his father’s chest, while his own laid on top of hers.

Finlay made his way to his sister’s crib, and through the bars grabbed for her tiny hand. He held it, watching his parents slow dance to a children’s song about all the animals in the zoo.

Something To Lean On [ All BTS Members ]

Originally posted by mewchim

BTS MEMBERS | 1519 WORDS  | ANGST, FLUFF

Pieces of You Drabble Series

12.  “This bar table. This bathroom walls. Even without you, I have things to lean on.”

Send a request for the drabble! :)

a.n. i’m sorry Jimin


 One day after Jimin packed up his bag and left, she found herself curled up in her bed, snuggled under thick layers of blanket, crumpled tissues scattered all around her. Her eyes were swollen and red after hours of crying and the tears had dried up, leaving salty tracks on her cheeks and the pain was too much she could no longer feel it. She felt numb and dehydrated and she should’ve probably go out of her room and drink some water to relieve her from the headache. But she stayed rooted on her spot on the bed, trying her best to ignore the pounding headache and her sore throat. She reached out her hand to the other side of the bed, finding it empty and cold, a reminder of what happened last night. Jimin had been waiting for her to come home from work just to tell her about his plan to leave her, and her first reaction was to laugh. It took her a few minutes to realized he was serious, another minute to muttered the word, ‘why’, and the next ten minutes to stood in front of the doorway, watching Jimin packed up his stuff into the brown duffle bag. She didn’t cry when he whispered more apologies for broken promises and for falling out of love with her and for falling in love with another person. She didn’t cry when he said his goodbye and left the apartment, the sound of the closing door reverberating through the room. The tears started to fall down her cheeks once she snapped out of her thoughts, finally realizing how empty the apartment was. She crumbled to the floor like a rag doll, struggling to breathe between her sobbing.

Taehyung was the one who barged into her apartment hours later and found her sitting on the wooden floor of her bedroom, her lap covered with old pictures of Jimin and her.

“He told you.” It was a statement. Taehyung bit his lips and nodded, face void of any other emotion other than sympathy.

“I’m sorry.” Taehyung tried to smile.

“It’s not your fault.”

A long silence passed before he grabbed her arms and helped her up, the photos left ignored on the floor. She was too tired to pull away and let him dragged her to the bathroom. He washed her face with cold water and helped her brush her teeth, lips pressed into a thin line when she turned to him with hollow eyes. 

One week after Jimin left, [Y/N] found herself sitting on the café she used to go to with Jimin, a cup of hot coffee on the table. She was lost in her thoughts when she heard someone settled on the empty chair in front of her. Startled, her eyebrows crinkled in confusion at the sight of her childhood friend, Yoongi, who was supposed to be in Los Angeles, composing a song for a famous artist.

“How’s the song going?” She asked him, wondering if he finished his work earlier than scheduled.

“I’m Min Yoongi.” He replied, as if his name was enough of an answer. She smiled, her first genuine smile since her break-up.

“Guess they fired you.” She joked, earning a glare from her friend. “Did you get me anything?”

“Does me stealing your mixtape and showing them to a famous producer count as a present?” Yoongi grinned, enjoying the way her jaw dropped and eyes widened in surprise.

“What?”

“They love it and they want to know if you want to do collaboration with them.” Yoongi explained. He held up his hand before she could protest. “I know you were too scared to send your demo to music companies and I’m sorry for stealing them. But you know you’ll never send it on your own and I want people to know my best friend is a genius lyricist and has a beautiful voice.”

He brushed back his platinum blonde hair and gave her a small smile. “You deserve more, [Y/N].”

She looked away when the fondness in his eyes became too much for her, eyes brimming with fresh tears.

“Please don’t cry. They’re gonna think I’m an asshole.” Yoongi groaned.

“You are, though.” She pointed out, lips curled into a small smile when Yoongi got up from his seat and moved his seat next to hers. She let Yoongi pulled her into a hug, sighing in relief at the familiar warmth. Yoongi always knew how to make her feel less like shit despite his lack of comforting words.

“Thank you.” She mumbled against his shirt.

.

One month after the breakup, Hoseok and Jin dragged her to a newly opened club near their place with a promise of fun night and lots of dancing. She thought it would be a great idea to forget the dull pain in her heart. So she put on her nicest clothes and left the apartment with Jin and Hoseok who looked excited to have her out of the apartment. She ended up drinking too much alcohol and throwing up in the bathroom of the club, hands clutching the toiled seat like her life depended on it. Jungkook, who arrived after his work ended, held her hair and rubbed her back gently.

“That’s disgusting.” He commented as he led her out of the toilet stall to wash her face on the sink.

“No one asked you to be here, Kookie.” She retorted, earning a small chuckle from Jungkook.

“I don’t feel so good.” [Y/N] mumbled as she sat on the marble floor, eyes glazed with remnants of alcohol in her system. Jungkook moved to sit next to her, letting her rest her head on his shoulder.

“You’re gonna have a nasty hangover tomorrow.”

“My heart still hurts.” She said quietly as she played with the hem of her blouse. Jungkook took her hand and use the other hand to pat her hair.

“You have us.” Was all he said.

They sat in the bathroom floor for another half an hour before Hoseok and Jin stormed inside with worries plastered all over their faces. The four of them ended up sitting on the floor for a good hour, making weird jokes and ignoring the irritated looks from other people, before someone came and kicked them out of the club.

.

One year after Jimin said he found someone else, Yoongi barged into her apartment with two envelopes in his hand, eyes filled with newfound anger when he mentioned his name.

“Are you going to come?”

“Maybe.” She shrugged, eyes still fixed on the beautiful cursive words on the page.

‘We request the honor of your presence at the marriage of Park Jimin and …..’

“Do I have to come too?” Yoongi childishly mumbled as he made himself comfortable in the messy living room.

“Everyone is coming, Yoongi.”

“Is he going to come as your plus one?” He asked as his anger slowly vanished, the displeasure in his voice replaced by amusement at the sight of her slightly flushed cheeks. She shrugged and put the invitation on the table.

“He will, if you don’t drag him to the studio to work on a new song.” Yoongi grinned at her answer and leaned back on the couch.

A month later, [Y/N] found herself sitting on a white wooden pew, gazed fixed on the couple standing in front of the altar. The dull pain in her heart had been reduced to almost nothing. Sometimes she could still feel it, the little twist in her heart, but the pain was bearable and she could go on with her day without breaking down in tears. It was like the scar on her knee that never really went away and became a slight inconvenience.

“I’m hungry.” A voice beside her whispered. She turned and found Namjoon grinning down at her.

“Shut up, Namjoon.” She muttered back, lips curled into a smile when Namjoon started to play with her hand.

“We should get burgers later.”

“Pizza’s better.”

“Rock, paper, scissors and winner gets to choose?”

“Guys, you need to shut the fuck up before the priest kick you out of the church.” Yoongi hissed from behind them.

“I vote for burgers.” Taehyung excitedly whispered from her left.

“Pizza for me.” Hoseok added, followed by Jungkook, who looked like he had been starving for days.

“I was planning on taking her only.” Namjoon scowled.

“Like a date?” Yoongi raised his eyebrows.

“Maybe.”

[Y/N] turned to him with flushed cheeks and watched the latter squirmed uncomfortably in his seat.

“I love you but you have the shittiest timing, Joonie.” Jin finally added his two-cents.

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Excuse me, can you please keep it down?” A sudden angry whisper broke their hushed discussion and everyone’s attention quickly went back to the couple who were in the middle of reciting their vows. [Y/N] slowly reached out to her right and took Namjoon’s hand, ignoring Namjoon’s stare.

“Yes.” She mumbled, voice almost inaudible for Namjoon to hear. But he did and the smile he gave her in return was worth the burgers and stomach ache she got the next day.

Instructions

Pairing: Kagehina (loosely)
Show: Haikyuu!!
Summary:

At the bottom of the garden, there is a hole. It sits in a wall shrouded by foliage, by long, creeping vines and sharp, spiked leaves, and through the hole—the ceiling is low, remember to crouch—there is a lane.

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Bonnie & Clyde - pt 2

Originally posted by sugaglos

These shoes were ruined, great.

Throwing your bags down onto the floor, you mumbled insults about him, picking out some clothes and heading to the shower.

After cleaning all the dirt off your skin, you went to find your father.

He was sitting in his study with the door open, indicating the you could enter.

“Daddy?…” you called.

He looked up from his laptop. “What do you need baby doll?”

The nickname he gave you had stuck since you were a kid. Yoongi saying it before, caught you off guard. You wondered what your father would have done, had he heard.

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