still want to kiss her on the mouth

THE STYDIA KISS (and hug)- an Extra™ frame by frame analysis

ok so we start out with this shit. even before this frame, dude is staring at them Martin lips like he’s in the middle of the desert and they’re the only water for miles. Then we get here and they both go in OPEN goddamn MOUTH for this kiss. she is PUCKERED for him. She was puckered ten feet ago, she was puckered when she walked in the damn door, hell, she was puckered 3 months ago. She got her tongue fucking ready to dock at Port Stilinski Lips.

She comes in fucking Little Caesar’s Hot ‘N Ready with the hands on the neck. goddamn. And they are PRESSED into each other. If they were kissing any deeper they would swallow each other. Which now, come to think of it, might have been their goal.

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little things you may have forgotten about aristotle and dante

  • ari hates cokes
  • dante said that only good looking models get paid and ari got embarrassed asdfghjkl
  • the first thing that ari remembers after the surgery is dante
  • ari doesn’t know Any beatles songs
  • ari’s long hair and how he likes it (because dante has long hair)

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anonymous asked:

consider this for a prompt: the team is in the lounge, post practice, just lazing around and doing nothing; the tv is on; no one is really paying attention when andrew suddenly turns rigid; deep breaths; unfocused eyes; the reporter is relaying a shocking revelation about a man abusing the foster kids in his care; hisfacehisfacehisfacetheyareshowinghisface (-i cannot tell why my mind is such an angsty bitch but here we are)

(this is a specific and excellent prompt and I’ve been anxiously awaiting its place in line <3)

He’s boneless when he climbs out of the shower, feet tender on the glossy tile, breath sitting high and tight in his chest. Neil likes pacing through his routine after practice, adrenaline relaxing its grip on him finger by finger, change-rooms echoing and empty. He strings his wet hair up in a fresh bandana and shrugs his armbands up over flushed, shower-damp forearms. He lets the practice pull at his muscles and drafts new line-ups and drills in his head.

His teammates are back in the lounge, dotting the furniture, all of their aggression leached out of them, and he feels joy rip his chest like popped stitches. Good feelings are always more brutal than bad ones, he’s come to understand. Stronger, harsher.

He gets a round of raised hands and snappy greetings when he walks in, mostly lost in the rustle of plastic bags as Wymack and Abby unload sandwiches onto an overcrowded table.

Wymack licks stray sauce off of his thumb and points at Neil with his other hand. “Come pretend you’re civilized and eat at the table. I don’t want ranch on my couches again.”

Neil shrugs and pulls a chair out at the head of the table. Matt winks up at him, and the rest of the foxes pass wrapped and pressed sandwiches down the line. They chat and rustle, Aaron snaps for serviettes until Wymack smacks his hand away, Kevin eats his sandwich with a knife and fork. Everything smells like tangy pesto and sweet fresh bread.

“Get Andrew over here, will you?” Wymack asks distractedly. Neil glances over at Andrew, installed on the couch with his back towards them. His hair has been bleaching in the sun recently, and he’s easily the brightest thing in the room.

“Andrew,” he calls, accepting his own sandwich when it’s waved in front of him, distracted from the back of Andrew’s head.

“You really put an effort in,” Nicky teases, rolling his eyes.

“I’m not moving him if he doesn’t want to be moved,” Neil replies, unconcerned. His food is warm in his hands, chicken and cranberries and cheese peeking out of brown bread and wax wrapping.

“That’s bullshit,” Matt says, mouth full. “You know you could.”

“I don’t know why you still think I have that kind of power.”

“Uhh maybe because he does impossible favours for you? And like. Kisses your face when we’re not looking? I dunno, just a thought,” Dan says sarcastically, peeling onions out of her sandwich.

“Andrew,” Neil repeats, exasperated. When he looks over again Andrew hasn’t moved, fixed and steady as always. His shoulders are moving fast though, breath coming hard enough that Neil can hear it from across the room. His stomach throbs, intuitive and scared. 

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Dirty, Pretty Things

Hey guys! I hope that everyone is having a supremely good day today! I’m sorta shy to post this because I’ve never written a sexy-time before, but I gave it a go lol. Basically, Tom and the reader go to the library and Tom gets a little frustrated by the book the reader picks out for him, and then, sexy-time ensues. I hope you like it!

Dirty, Pretty Things

He had lost her within the sea of words that had engulfed them both.

When Tom had first entered the grand library, the sight of so many shelves completely drenched in knowledge blew his eyes wide open. She, on the other hand, had immersed herself, diving in and out of shelves quickly, and coming out with towering stacks of novels. Tom watched, hands in his pockets, as she piled the literature as high as it could go without falling.

Grabbing her readings, he moved them to a secluded corner, where he sat down on the floor to wait for her to come back to him.

As she fluttered about, rushing in between sections and up and down staircases, her skin gave off a soft sheen of champagne that he knew came from her ridiculously expensive highlighter. The heels of her boots tapped anxiously across the floor. Sounding as though they were afraid they’d only be granted a set amount of time to wander through the library. The straps of the dress his girlfriend wore began to slip off her shoulders and she failed to fix them to their proper place again. When she bent down, Tom noticed that her position revealed a more than generous amount of her legs. He bit his lip and tried to ignore how alluringly endearing she looked.

Tom loved to watch her like this. She looked incredibly at home nestled inside the library’s massive selection of books. She wasn’t worried about other people, or how they could be perceiving her. Instead, her only focus was on choosing the best and most interesting novel to read.

After about forty minutes, she finally came back to him, carrying four more books in her hands.

“I picked some out for you to read as well,” she said, nestling decisively underneath his arm.

Due to the spot Tom had secured, she was sat directly next to the left corner of the wall with Tom cuddled into her right side. Tom beamed at her and pressed an open mouthed kiss to her lips. “What did you get for me darling?”

“Well, firstly, I grabbed you the first Harry Potter book because I think that it’s absolute insanity that you haven’t read it yet. Then, I grabbed Horns and The Shining, in case your in the mood for horror, but, if all else fails, maybe you could try Hidden Bodies or Dirty, Pretty Things?” She began to ramble on about why she had selected each novel and then stopped short. “Oh, shit, I should go back and bring you Fight Club, I really think that-.” Tom quickly wrapped an arm around her middle, securing her back down on the floor.

“No, no, I’m excited to read Dirty, Pretty Things. That’s the poetry book you’ve been off about with Kaylee, right? I want to read that one.” Tom watched her pull the thin, pink book out of the stack to hand to him.

She looked shy handing it over to him. As soon as his hands slid over the front cover, she quickly interjected, “you may not like it, but the words are just lovely and they make me,” she stopped short and shuddered.

Tom quirked a brow, “oh yeah? Better get started then.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead and rustled her hair.

Tom watched as she leaned forward and bit her lip, trying to decide what she wanted to read first. Eventually, she settled on A Tale For the Time Being and curled up against his chest.

Tom’s eyes skimmed over poem after poem, and he began to understand why she spoke so much about it, just not directly to him. The book was written about love, and carnal attraction and she was forever timorous.

The poetry in Dirty, Pretty Things was beginning to get to him, especially when he thought about her reading it. Michael Faudet’s words were dulcet and enticing, and Tom imagined whispering them softly into her ear, as he slipped his hands up her skirt.

Tom’s mind briefly wandered to her getting off on the words within the book and had to stop for a few seconds to recompose himself. He glanced down at her. The words on the page of her book seemed to leap and dance off the page, mocking him for being of more interest to her than he was. Shaking his head, he tried not to look at the uncovered, sweet smelling, perfumed, skin of her chest. Going back to his own book, he attempted to allow the book’s poetry to command his full attention once again.

The first poem Tom encountered as he flipped the page nearly killed him. He stopped breathing and read over the words three more times before letting out a shaker gasp.

The only words on the page were, “Put your hands on my knees, she said, and think of me as a book you’ve been dying to read.”

Tom looked from the poem to her, then again and again before he felt his jeans getting even tighter than they were before. This had to be a sign. Shit, they were in a library, surrounded by books, all alone in a dimly lit corner of the library. Not to mention, books and literature were her favorite things in the word. She had told him a while ago that the best compliment she’d ever received had been from slew of teachers who had all insisted that she had the best taste in books they’d seen in a long time. Michael Faudet’s words were taunting him.

“Baby,” he started, gently tilting her chin up to look at him. “I’m bored.”

She frowned, “do you not like the book because I can go and grab you another, or maybe-,” Tom cut her short by sliding a soft hand across her throats to sweep her hair off her shoulder.

“Let’s trade. You can read Dirty, Pretty Things out loud to me. I’m sleepy and I wanna listen to you read the poems.” Tom gently guided his book into her palms.

She flushed red and stuttered for a minute. “Tom, I can’t.

“Why not?” He countered.

“You’ve read it,” She muttered, looking away from him. “The words are libidinous.”

Tom brought her eyes back to his and licked his lips before he spoke. “I wanna hear you read them darling.” He moved to kiss the spot just below her lips. Tom dared lower and lower, tangling his hands in her hair as he went. When he reached her collarbones, she finally snapped.

Letting out an airy sigh, she gasped out, “fine Tom.”

He smirked and placed a final kill on the base of her throat and corrected his posture so that he was sitting with his arms protectively circling her frame.

She moved to flip to the next page when Tom interrupted her. “Do you mind reading from the beginning? I wanna hear it all in your voice.”

Narrowing her eyes, she flipped back to the first page and began to read. As she read through the first few poems, Tom’s hands began to totter.

First, he slipped them up and down her arms, feigning an effort to keep her warm. Then, he began to give her small kisses on the forehead, cheek, neck and hand. She looked at him, slightly confused as to why he’d ask her to read out loud if he wasn’t going to pay attention.

Nevertheless, she kept reading.

As she flipped the page, her breathing was cut short. Tom knew exactly which poem she’d stumbled across. “Sweetheart, do you want to play a game?” Tom asked her, his voice rough and low in her ear.

She blinked up at him, her cheeks flushed cherry red as she managed to stutter out a few syllables.

“How about I tell you the rules first?” He paused briefly, and then began to talk. “The book you’ve chosen for me has actually proven itself to be quite the naughty thing and I think that you gave it to me on purpose. Since you like to play so many little games instead of just telling me directly what you want, I think that maybe I’ll give games a go too.” Tom stopped to look at her again. Her pupils had consumed the typical color of her eyes and her hands were slightly shaking. Taking them within his own, he kissed the backs of both of her hands.

“If you’ll allow me, I’d very much like to reenact that poem. You are the book that I’ve been dying to read.”

Her eyes shut and she bit her lip to contain the moan threatening to slip past.

“Here’s the catch though, I still want you to read to me. If you stop reading out loud, I’ll stop what I’m doing and you wouldn’t want that, would you?” Tom peppered her neck with open mouthed kisses.

She nodded her head, eyes still shut tight.

“No, darling, I need verbal consent, just to be sure.” Tom continued his assault on her neck.

Her eyes finally snapped open and she rolled her head around to look directly into Tom’s eyes. “Please.” She whispered.

With that, Tom smirked and lifted the hem of her dress and slipped his hand further up her thighs.

Her voice shook, “the kind of love letter I write are the ones you read in bed, stretched out beneath the sheets with one hand between your legs.”

Tom pressed his mouth to her and she convulsed against his lips, gasping out the words to the next line.


I looked from my laptop up as my sister Angie came into my room.

“Hey Zack, what’s up?” she said

“Hey sis. I just heard from Stephanie. She has too much work to do this weekend, and she can’t make it back.” Our older sister was in college and had been planning to come back for the three day weekend that now stretched out before us.

“That sucks. So are mom and dad at that conference?”

“No, they are out for tonight, back in the morning. Then they leave for it tomorrow morning, and will be gone until Monday night.”

“So, more or less, the house to ourselves for the entire weekend?”

“Yep.” I said with a grin. The two of us had always been really close, and we were looking forward to a relaxing weekend with just each other. My little sister returned my grin and her eyes lit up. She was two years younger than me, but was always more mischievous than I.

“Dinner?” she asked

“Leftovers”

She shrugged and left my room. It was early still, and I returned to finishing my homework on my laptop. It was Friday and I wanted to be done for the weekend.

***

Later that night, having finished dinner, Angie and I were sitting on the couch, watching a movie. She was curled up against me, with my arm draped over her. As the movie ended, I switched the TV and looked and my baby sister. Her face was furrowed and she looked like she was considering something serious.

“What’s up sis?” I asked. She looked up at me.

“Can I talk to you about something?”

“Anything”

“It’s kind of awkward and personal”

“Anything you ever want to talk about, I will be here for you Angie” I said. I squeezed her tighter with one arm and planted a kiss on her forehead.

“Thanks Zack, I know. Are you a virgin?”

I flushed a bit, but answered truthfully

“Yes. And I assume you are as well” I knew my sister well enough that she would tell me why she asked without prompting.

“Yes, I am. Do you think I’m pretty?” she asked as a blush rose to her cheeks and she turned away.

Rather than respond immediately, with the obvious ‘yes’ I looked as my little sister as a woman, not a girl, taking in her features. She was tall, about 5’10” and thin. She had an incredibly toned and trimmed body from the years and years of gymnastics that she was so found of. Rich chocolate brown hair that cascaded midway down her back. Small breasts, no larger than an A cup, but they sat perfectly on her petite frame that any larger would have looked absurd.

“I think you are beautiful” I replied, and I genuinely meant it. Angie’s eyes lit up, and she could tell my compliment was honest. I pulled her closer to me and planted a kiss on her forehead. She returned my embrace and beamed up at me. Then the smile faded into a look of unease. I could tell she was trying to work her way around to telling me why she asked about my history with women.

“I asked because I figured … well … we know each other really well … and we love each other a lot … and … we are both virgins … and alone … and well…” Her face flushed and she turned away from me, embarrassed.

I looked at my little sister, my mind jumbled, my body fighting for the blood my brain needed to make decisions. A squeezed her closer and brought my left hand around to her chin. I forced her face to turn back to mine, and saw tears of embarrassment shining in her eyes. I planted a kiss full on her lips, the first time I had kissed a girl in all my years. After the longest thirty seconds of my life, we broke apart and caught our breath. We looked into each other’s eyes, and I asked her,

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Absolutely. Do you, Zack?”

“Yes, Angie, I really do.”

“I love you, big brother.”

“I love you, little sister.”

Our lips locked again, and I could see many of my emotions reflected in my baby sister’s eyes. Lust warred with love, each seeking to blot out the other. Our lips parted and my tongue slipped into her mouth, as hers slipped into mine.

I rolled her over, and sat my sister on my lap. Our lips met again, and my hands wandered over her tight back. I pulled her closer to me, out chests meeting and our kiss never breaking. She started to shift her hips back and forth in my lap. Her small breasts rubbed against my chest and my cock started to harden with the constant motion. I shifted one hand down, to grip her tight ass, and the other up to her chest to cup one of her lovely tits. Her hands wandered over my chest and out tongues stilled warred in each other’s mouths.

Our kiss broke, and Angie shifted back slightly on my lap. We were both breathless, and for a moment, the only noise in the room was our breathing.

“That was my first kiss, sis” I said, and she giggled at me.

“Mine too” she said still smiling. There was a long pause before she asked, “Do you want to go further?”

In answer I grabbed her and she squealed with delight as I pulled her back to my lips. Her hands found my chest again, and then started to go lower. She found the hem of my shirt, and began to pull it up. I felt a tingle as the cool air rushed over my warm skin. She pulled the shirt higher and higher, and finally we were forced to break off our kiss as the shirt passed over my head. As soon as it was on the floor, we kissed again.

Then slowly, my hands came around to her firm hips. I grabbed the shirt and raised it up slowly. Our kiss broke again, and I pulled off her shirt and threw it on the floor. I looked at my sister, sitting on my lap, our skin touching. Her skin was pale, as was mine, and against that white background, the rainbow striped bra on her chest looked even more vibrant. It was about a 32-34 A, and seemed to delight in cling to such nubile curves. We resumed our passionate kissing, and she resumed grinding her crotch into mine.

After a few more minutes of this, I stopped her and pried my sister off of me. She looked confused for a moment, but when she saw the grin of desire on my face, lust overtook her. I stood her up in front of me, and reached for the belt around her waist. I unfastened it, and reached for the button on her jeans. I undid it, and drew down the zipper, the hooked my fingers under the waist band of her pants. In one fluid motion, I dropped the pants to the ground, and as she stepped out of them, I looked at her sky blue panties. Under my gaze, she squirmed a bit, and flushed embarrassed.

“Stand up, bro. It’s not fair that you’re wearing pants.” She whined playfully.

I stood, and her hands were at my waist, undoing my belt, as her lips found mine again. She reached for the zipper on my pants, and the next thing I knew, my pants were around my ankles. I stepped out of them, and fell back onto the couch, grabbing Angie as I went. She sat, straddling me, as we kissed again. We looked at one another, and nervous laughter rose in our throats. She resumed grinding our crotches together, but this time, but with only her sky blue panties and my red boxers on, the feeling was much more intense. My cock was rock hard at this point, and only the weight of my baby sister was holding it down. She was also getting into it, I realized, as I saw a damp spot growing on her panties. I kissed her again and again, one hand around the tight muscles of her ass, and the other around her back, snaking up to the back of her head, holding her close to me.

I looked down, breaking off our kiss, and looked at our bodies. Angie had on only her sky blue panties and rainbow striped bra, and I with only red boxers. Our flesh gleamed with sweat and her body, sculpted from almost a decade of gymnastics, was taut and perfect. She started pushing our bodies together faster and harder, and my cock started rubbing against her pussy.

At the same time, completely independent of each other, our hands started to reach towards our lap. Mine trailed down her chest, her taut stomach, and came to rest just on the elastic band that held her underwear up. Her hand did the same thing to my body. She raised her hips, and I slowly inched my fingers down on to her sweat mound, feeling the fabric under my touch, and beneath that, my sister’s warm wetness. Her hand traced its way over my boxers to the base of my straining erection.

She began to stroke my cock through my boxers, as I began to run my hand over her pussy. The friction of her hand and my boxers on my dick sent a wave of pleasure through my body. I rubbed her faster and faster, and in response she stroked me faster still. Our hips ground together, our hands rubbed at the others genitals and we saw bliss reflected in each other’s eyes. Her wet spot grew larger and she began to moan, softly at first, then louder as I groaned at my need for release.

Angie’s breathing got faster and faster and I could feel her trembling. I could also feel my own orgasm getting closer. All at once, we both stiffened and moaned. We both orgasmed in our underwear and collapsed on to the couch. We lay there for the span of several long, shuttering breaths, my sister’s lithe body draped over my larger one, her face pressed against my shoulder. Finally reality reasserted itself, and I looked over at her.

“Well…” Angie said, before we both burst into laughter. We laughed long and loud, uncontrollably, until we were both gasping for air. We were not laughing at anything, but we could not stop.

Our merriment finally subsided and we looked back at each other. I could feel a contented smile on my face, and it was reflected on my baby sister’s.

“That felt amazing, Zack.” She sighed, contentedly.

“You too, Angie.” I replied, giving her a squeeze. She giggled and writhed on my lap, rubbing our sodden underwear together. We both looked down and laughed again.

“Shower?” I asked.

“Together.” She responded. “Just let me get my breath back.”

We sat there for another few minutes, until Angie rolled off of me, and we stood up. We gathered our clothes, and I chased her up stairs to the bathroom we shared. We turned the water on, and as it heated up, started kissing again. Our mouths joined together, and we embraced tightly.

My hands roamed across her back, and found the hooks of her rainbow bra. I unclasped them, and peeled off the garment. Then I got my first real look at my sister’s naked breasts. They were small, but perky and sat perfectly on her slight body. I let my hands wander lower and lower until I felt her small tight ass. I slipped two fingers under the elastic band of her sky blue panties and slid them around to her hips. All at once, I jerked my hands down, carrying her underwear with them. I beheld her virgin pussy for the first time in my life. She was unshaven, and the coarse brown hair stood out in contrast to her perfectly smooth legs.

She blushed and turned away from me, allowing me a perfect view of her perfect, tiny ass. I drew her close to me and planted a kiss on the top of her head. I could see her smile and feel her relax and she turned back around and reached down. Her hands gripped the waistband of my boxers and eased them down. My erection was now back in full swing, and popped out. I was also unshaven. It was the first time I had ever been exposed to someone in a sexual manner. We stepped out of the clothes around our ankles, and kissed again.

My sister and I drew back the shower curtain and slipped inside. The warm water and close confines made me feel as though my head was in a fog. We started washing each other all over. My hands, lathered with soapy water, found their way around her back and came to rest on her petite breasts. I savored the experience, my first real skin to skin sexual contact with her, as I began to massage her boobs. Angie started to whimper slightly, and then as I tweaked her tiny nipples, she let out a moan.

I left off and snaked my hands down lower and lower. I ran my hands over her tight legs, higher and higher. Her lean calves, her firm thighs, and then above that, the golden territory, all covered with soap and water. A thought crossed my mind and I rested my hand on her bush, and asked

“Why shave your legs, and not up here?”

“Because,” her response was bashful, “I was afraid it would hurt if I slipped.”

“Do you want me to help you?”

“Yes. But not right now. You got me wound up, and I need release.”

I grinned and slid my right hand over her mound as my left worked its way back to her tits. There was wetness there that had nothing to do with the shower. I began to stroke my middle finger up and down her slit, and my index and ring finger along the outside of her pussy. My left hand was massaging her breast and my right spread her lips wide open. She moaned her desire and I plunged my middle finger deep into my baby sister’s pussy. The gasped and shudder at the sudden intrusion, and cried out three words

“Oh God Yes!”

I started to work the top of her pussy with my thumb, and began to thrust my middle finger in and out of her sweat confines. She was incredibly warm, tight, and wet. It felt like my finger was being sucked in on every pump. Angie moaned louder and louder, and I thrust faster and faster. Her arms wrapped around my right arm, and her hand went down to cover mine, forcing me deeper into her. I tweaked her nipple and thrust deep into her. All at once, she seized up and froze completely, her muscles locking, and I would have sworn she even stopped breathing for a second.

My sister would have collapsed onto the floor if my arms had not been wrapped around her. She hung like a rag doll in my arms for several minutes, getting her breath back, her ass still pressed to my straining erection. She finally turned to me and, planting a kiss on my lips, moaned,

“Thank you. That was amazing.”

I grinned at her, and she tiredly returned the expression. We continued washing for a few minutes, until I found myself facing the showerhead, Angie behind me. She unexpectedly grabbed me in an embrace, and whispered in my ear,

“Your turn big bro.”

Her breasts were pressed to my back and her arms were around my chest. Her soapy hands slid down to my cock and delicately traced over my pubic hair.

“I like you like this. Don’t shave it.” I could hear the grin in her voice. I grinned back and shook my head.

“Anything for you, little sis.”

She kissed my neck and grasped my dick with her warm, wet, slippery hand. She slid her hand up and down my shaft, while sliding her other hand over my chest. Her small hands pumped me again and again, until I was right on the verge. Then she slid her other hand down and grabbed my balls. It was too much for me, and I came all over the front of the shower.

I turned around and kissed my sister again and again, each kiss deeper and more passionate than the last. We finished up in the shower and stepped out. Looking at the clock, we realized with a start that our parents would be home soon. We quickly went into Angie’s room and she bent over to rummage through her dresser for something to ware. I did not help the process by taking that opportunity to grab and start massaging her firm ass. She playfully slapped my hands away and threw on some pajamas. We went to my room and repeated the process, but in reverse.

“So, I am looking forward to a fun weekend.” She said.

“Me too.” I grinned “Just the two of us from Saturday afternoon to Monday night.”

“I think we are going to have a lot of fun.”

“Me too.”

“I love you, Zack.”

“I love you, Angie.”

jeon / jungkook (fuckboy,smut)

Originally posted by nnochu


summary: you hated his name but part of you wanted to feel his tongue on your skin

note: i wrote this as a one shot but if someone wants a part 2 let me know, i know it’s very short

warning: mentions of sex, smut

chapter 02


‘‘and i bent her over the table and I fucked her so hard, i don’t know how to explain this to you but fuck…’‘

here it is. his voice. that fucking annoying voice you hated so much. always bragging about how many girls he had fucked over, where he fucked them and most importantly how he fucked them.

jeon fucking jungkook

yup that was his name. the name that everyone was so familiar with, all the guys wanted to be his friends because they just thought how majestic he is, and between girls… well they all thought he was stunning, hot, basically a fuck boy.

you could lost count over how many girls he has slept with, and they all come back wanting more but he just pushes them away, getting ready to fuck a new girl.

you couldn’t listen anymore, you would be driving to school or home with the same bus as he because he lives very close to you, and every single day you would hear a different story of how he loves to fuck.

he basically had a group of friends that were pretty similar to him. always getting a new girl each weekend but no jeon was the ace of this group. it’s like he’s their leader and the other’s follow him.

‘‘can you be quiet for once jeon?!’‘ you screamed turning around to face him. he put a smirk on his face and licked his lips, biting them slowly and you focused on his bottom lip as it bounced a bit back ones he bit it. he turns to his friend and gets ready to say something before you turned around.

‘‘make me’‘ he says getting a laugh from his friend.

but funny thing is that no matter how hard you hated him, you still found him hot as hell. there have been multiple times of where he would say something to you ‘sex’ related and your cheeks were burning. that’s how fuck boys work, but you swore to yourself you would never let him touch you. or did you?

‘‘shut up’‘ you said before the bus finally hit stop and you were in front of school. getting your bag you waited for everyone to get off the bus, and then you stepped out. but before you could even get up a hand grabbed your forearm and dunked you down with them. you landed hard on someone’s chest, the person’s hand flung up to your mouth to prevent you from screaming.

the bus started moving again and no matter how hard you tried getting up it was no use. you couldn’t even turn to see who this person was, as they kept on having a tight grip on you. the bus stopped and the driver got off locking the vehicle. you jumped away from this person and turned around only to be met with him. jeon.

‘‘what the fuck jeon?!’‘ you screamed running up to the front of the bus, pushing the doors but they didn’t work. banging on them and windows was again no use as to no one was around, everyone already sitting in their school’s seats getting ready for their lessons, while you were stuck out here with him.

‘‘baby girl calm down, we’ve got the whole bus to ourselves’‘ he sat down on of the seats and put his legs up on a row in front of him. you stepped back towards him and hit him in his chest.

‘‘are you kidding me? get me out of here now!’‘

‘‘i don’t think so.’‘ he says before grabbing your waist and settling you down on his lap. 99% of the time he would wear black skinny jeans, where his thigh’s would show. those thigh’s that made you wet every single time you would look at him. let’s be real here you wanted to fuck him but at the same time you hated him. he was a douche bag for sleeping with so many girls, where in reality he could just have one and fuck her over and over again as many times as he would want.

‘‘w-what are you..’‘

‘‘shhh just relax baby doll’‘

his mouth went up to your neck and slowly he sucked and tugged on your skin, licking around your sweet spot before moving somewhere else. he glided his tongue across from one of your ear lobes to the other one slowly kissing them. his hands were still on your waist and he dug his fingers in them, but from time to time he would stroke them, revealing your skin.

‘‘j-jeon..’‘ you managed to say but he continued to lick and suck on your skin at the neck. at this point it was already too late and you gave in. so what, you’re just going to be another girl that got fucked by jungkook, what’s the big deal?

‘‘move your neck baby, let me suck on the other side as well’‘ he hummed in your ear before you moved hair, exposing your soft skin. his mouth felt hot and his tongue felt amazing, sending you shivers down your spine you had to grab his arms because it felt so good.

until you heard a knock. it was the bus driver.

‘‘hey! get the hell out of here!’‘ he screamed before you packed all over your things and got out as soon as he unlocked the bus. you two ran and stopped in front of the school. jungkook grabbed your arm and kissed you, surprised you pulled away with a confused look.

‘‘see you around baby’‘ giving you one final smirk he left off to the class.

let’s just say that wasn’t your last time seeing jeon jungkook.

Like Before • Jeff Atkins

Jeff Atkins x Reader

Prompt: You and Jeff were prone to breaking up and making up throughout your three and a half year relationship. This time, however, you knew it was different unlike the others; but you refused to let this be the end of you two, and you’d be damned if you were going to let Jeff Atkins walk away with your heart clenched in his hands.

Warnings: A broken heart and a cute Jeff Atkins.

3,010 words x

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1. I’m lonely so I do lonely things
2. Loving you was like going to war; I never came back the same.
3. You hate women, just like your father and his father, so it runs in your blood.
4. I was wandering the derelict car park of your heart looking for a ride home.
5. You’re a ghost town I’m too patriotic to leave.
6. I stay because you’re the beginning of the dream I want to remember.
7. I didn’t call him back because he likes his girls voiceless.
8. It’s not that he wants to be a liar; it’s just that he doesn’t know the truth.
9. I couldn’t love you, you were a small war.
10. We covered the smell of loss with jokes.
11. I didn’t want to fail at love like our parents.
12. You made the nomad in me build a house and stay.
13. I’m not a dog.
14. We were trying to prove our blood wrong.
15. I was still lonely so I did even lonelier things.
16. Yes, I’m insecure, but so was my mother and her mother.
17. No, he loves me he just makes me cry a lot.
18. He knows all of my secrets and still wants to kiss me.
19. You were too cruel to love for a long time.
20. It just didn’t work out.
21. My dad walked out one afternoon and never came back.
22. I can’t sleep because I can still taste him in my mouth.
23. I cut him out at the root, he was my favorite tree, rotting, threatening the foundations of my home.
24. The women in my family die waiting.
25. Because I didn’t want to die waiting for you.
26. I had to leave, I felt lonely when he held me.
27. You’re the song I rewind until I know all the words and I feel sick.
28. He sent me a text that said “I love you so bad.”
29. His heart wasn’t as beautiful as his smile
30. We emotionally manipulated one another until we thought it was love.
31. Forgive me, I was lonely so I chose you.
32. I’m a lover without a lover.
33. I’m lovely and lonely.
34. I belong deeply to myself .
—  Warsan Shire, Excuses For Why We Failed At Love

I had been having wild unadulterated sex with my fifteen-year-old girlfriend for over a month when she said, “I want your sister in bed with us.”

I had been having the very same thoughts but I hadn’t said it. Just to be coy I asked, “Why?”

Rachael replied, “Because she is cute and I really want to fuck her with your cock.”

I asked, “How can you do that?”

Rachael replied, “The same way that my mother fucked me for over two years with my father’s cock. He was always tied to the bed and blindfolded but he always knew that he was fucking me. The first few times my mother had to shove my tight pussy down onto his big cock but after that I managed to get myself down onto it every Saturday night. After daddy had cum in me we got into a sixty-nine until I had given my mother two orgasms.”

I asked, “What changed?”

Rachael replied, “One of my schoolteachers found out that my father was fucking me and turned him in, he implicated my mother, and they both got into trouble. I was taken away and given to my Aunt Rachael, whom I was named after. That’s when I came here and met you. I’ve never been fucked like you fuck me.”

I smiled and said, “I didn’t think I was all that good at sex, in fact I was a virgin.”

Rachael laughed and said, “I knew that but you could look at me and be on top and that was what I needed.”

I asked, “So why do you want to fuck my sister?”

Rachael replied, “Because I miss being with another girl. I never had sex with a boy alone before, until you came along, that is. My parents always had sex with me together. I can get your sister in bed with us and then you can fuck her too.”

I didn’t want to seem too anxious so I said, “If that is what you really want, then it’s okay with me, set it up.”

I got a great big kiss and then she sucked my cock hard for another round.

The very next day my sister Bethany came into my bedroom and sat down on the edge of my bed like she had a hundred times before. She asked, “Will you be gentle when you fuck me?”

I about died but asked, “Why are you asking me that?”

Bethany said, “Because Rachael said that you and she wanted me to join you guys for a threesome. I know what a threesome is. You both want to fuck me.”

I tried to be calm as I replied, “We had discussed it but it was mostly Rachael’s suggestion.”

Bethany said, “That’s what she said too. I don’t mind eating her pussy in fact I just finished doing that in my bedroom She tastes okay but Mom and my girlfriend Lori taste much better, especially Mom when she has a fresh load of Dad’s cum in her snatch. I’m hoping your cum improves Rachael’s taste too.”

There was a slight pause while she thought about what she was going to say next. “I really want you to fuck me but I don’t want it to hurt too much. Lori let her brother fuck her and he hurt her bad. He raped her dry. He didn’t care either. Now he rapes her about every month right on her most fertile days too, the bastard. He just wants to knock her up.”

I said, “But she is only twelve.”

Bethany replied, “I know that but she has periods just like I do. You know what they say…if you’re old enough to bleed, you’re old enough to breed.”

I asked, “Won’t you get pregnant?”

She giggled and said, “No silly. The first thing that Mom did when I got my first period was to get me on birth control. Then she ate my pussy right in the doctor’s office.”

Shocked I asked, “Right in the doctor’s office?”

Bethany giggled again and said. “The doctor was a woman. She ate my pussy too and then I got to eat theirs. I like eating pussy but now that I am thirteen I want to try cock too…your cock.”

I smiled and said, “I’ll be as gentle as I can.”

Bethany smiled and kissed me saying, “I’ll be back in an hour then. I want to get ready for you to take my virginity.”

After Bethany left Rachael came in and said, “It wasn’t very hard to get your sister in bed with us, was it.”

I replied, “No! She wanted it as much as you did.”

Rachael smiled and said, “She isn’t the only one either. Your mother wanted to join us in bed too. She likes anal but your father’s cock is to big and hurts her when he gets ready to cum. She’ll be in for a big surprise though, you are just as big as your father is.”

I asked, “How would know?”

Rachael laughed and said, “Because I’ve seen it silly. One night after we first started fucking I took off my panties and let him look at my pussy while he jerked off on the couch. That is why I get to come up here every day without him complaining about you having a girl in your room.”

I had often wondered how I had become so lucky. I didn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth so I just accepted the fact.

An hour later Bethany tapped on my bedroom door and opened it. She said, “Mom took Dad out to dinner and a movie so we have all night if we want it.”

She was absolutely naked. She had a little peach fuzz on her pubic mount. She was also wearing a short bridal veil, glass slippers, and a pearl necklace.

Bethany said, “Mom fixed my hair into a bun and let me wear one of her costumes. I thought that I could wear white seeing as how I’m a virgin. My hymen is broken thanks to Lori but I’m still a virgin.”

Rachael asked, “Should I add Lori’s name to my threesome list?”

Bethany said, “Probably, but first I want my threesome with my brother taking my virginity.”

She looked at me and said, “How about we start kissing, you play with my boobs, and she gets my pussy good and wet.”

No more needed to be said. We spent several hours pleasing one another. Bethany had too many orgasms to count. Rachael did her part to see to it that I kept getting hard enough to fuck my sister again. I managed to cum in her mouth once and in her pussy four times. Bethany never did find out if my cum improved the taste of Rachael’s pussy…not that night anyway.

When my cock first entered my sister’s virgin pussy we both knew that we were made for one another. It was the perfect fit like her glass slippers. The three of us slept together that night, Mom got Dad off to work in the morning, and then brought the three of us breakfast in bed. She also brought us lunch in bed and dinner too. It was a good thing that we had Monday off from school for Columbus Day and Tuesday off for a teacher’s conference. That gave us four full days together in bed.

After that Bethany and I let Rachael, Mom, and Lori join us in a threesome occasionally but mostly we just to have sex with one another.

Dad gets to fuck Rachael on Saturday nights now but he is tied to the bed and blindfolded. Mom and Rachael like it that way, then they have fun until the sun comes up Sunday morning.

Mom and Rachael both have Dad’s cum in their pussies when he takes them to church. Bethany and I get to sleep in and miss church.

Life can be wonderful.

Kiss me, I'm Irish ☘

Just a little smutty Friends to Lovers (with no pining!) fun for this holiday, dedicated to @swallowedsong for various reasons. Sláinte! (rated M, 3000 words, AO3)


She almost choked on her green beer as her best friend’s feet came up off the ground as the burly, flanneled lumberjack (well, big guy in flannel shirt) at the bar planted a smacking kiss right on those unsuspecting lips. She’d told Killian what would happen if we wore that shirt, but he didn’t listen. Emma’s laughter is lost in the packed pub filled to the brim with St. Patrick’s Day revelers, but she knows Killian hears it, his telltale eyebrow lifting as Paul Bunyan releases him and gives him a jovial pat on the back.

“You had to know that would happen at some point, lad.”

“Aye, mate…sláinte!”

Emma shakes her head at Killian’s seemingly unflappable facade, watching as he shares a big grin and a toast with his kissing buddy at the end of the bar. But as he makes his way back to her she can see the signs of his mild embarrassment in the red glow of his pointy ears to the sheen of sweat at the hollow of his throat.

“Regretting that shirt yet?”

“Why Swan? That was the best kiss I’ve had all night.”

Keep reading

Just A Dance

Originally posted by hughxjackman

Characters- Logan Howlett x Reader

Summary- Logan wasn’t fond of parties, but he was fond of her.

Warnings- Language, fluff.

Word Count- 1,150

A/N- My first Marvel fic! I couldn’t help myself. I have always had a soft spot for Logan, and the new movie ‘Logan’ was just the ultimate catalyst. So please, enjoy.

Tags- @redlipstickandplaid@fandommaniacx @mellifluous-melodramas


Logan wasn’t particularly fond of parties. Loud music, inane small talk, and stupid formal wear. Forced to not look like the most miserable person on earth, he pulled at the bowtie on his tux. When he’d signed on for being a part of Xavier’s school, he didn’t know that fundraisers were a part of the deal. Look nice, smile at the rich people who were willing to give money to mutants.

Charles promised he’d had a surprise for him if he went- and he hated surprises. Charles promised he’d love it and it’d make the night more enjoyable. He highly doubted that, but as he stood there in the sea of gowns and suits, he saw her. In that moment, he knew this was Charles’ surprise.

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The Blue Room (missing 02x08 moment)

She weighed next to nothing in his arms. So fragile yet strong at the same time. They were breathing each other so deeply… The heat of the fire in their room had nothing on them. It was about comfort, it was about healing and it turned into so much more so fast. They were the extension of the fire at that moment.

“Let’s go bed.”

“Aye.”

Jamie slowly walked the distance between where they stood and the bed, like he was walking on clouds. His hands running from her backside to her thighs and just holding her up as he did, had left a trail of tingling sensation that Claire was still reeling from. She needed his big hands on her again, lighting up her every nerve. There was a time not long ago that she wasn’t sure she’d ever feel it, or wanted to feel it, or that she could. But only those hands, made for her, given to him for her, like he had once said, could heal her.

She was running her smooth delicate fingers on his nape and upper back, drawing patterns and words they could not utter, since breathing was turning into a hardship at this point. Claire needed out of her stays, she felt restrained. All she wanted was his weight on her, his burning hot skin against her. She wanted to feel his muscles and scars, to kiss them, to lick his perfect worked stomach. Tonight she was hungry for him in a way that only love filled with lust could explain. And he is mine.

How is this woman mine? Jamie asked himself that question many times and caging Claire with his toned arms atop the bed just reminded him yet again of the wonder of her love for him. That flushed beauty, her mouth semi-open for his kisses, her teasing eyes… He ran his nose along her neck and caught her lips. She tugged on his hair for dear life and her tongue came out to dance with his, to claim him. Like any person else could compare… If he could, he would be claimed like this every single day of his life.

And the flames went higher…

Jamie held himself up on his elbows, close to the precipice of losing balance altogether, as Claire started running her foot up his calf, lifting the kilt ever so slightly. Biting him gently on the lower lip, she released the auburn curls and sat on the mattress. Like on their wedding night, he helped her untie the restraining stays, and exactly like on their wedding night their gazes didn’t leave one another. Only difference was, the desire was stronger, the air was heavier.

After removing the stays, Claire unbuckled the kilt’s belt and maddeningly teasing, slowly removed the plaid in all his glorious folds aside. He was intensely ready himself. It overwhelmed all her senses like always. If it weren’t Jamie, this lack of control would have left Claire nervous, but it could never happen with Jamie… “Jamie.” She breathed.

“I’m here, Sorcha.”

He lifted her shift over her head, the sudden gush of cool air caused by the movement of it making her nipples stiffen. That and the dark blue gaze that didn’t fail to shake her to her core. She was still in her stockings, one loose and one still fastened with a flimsy pink tie. She made a move to take them off but he didn’t let her, holding her hands, he placed them around his neck again, while he ran his hands up her glorious round arse and held her tight around the waist, closer to him. Not one inch of room left to breathe anything else but the sweet scent of each other, enhanced by the flames that only went higher.

He started kissing and sucking on her neck, tasting her herbal sweetness, moving one hand to comb her curls away. The only sound in Jamie’s ears were Claire’s exquisite soft moans. Those sounds that made him go mad, also made him relinquish all his senses to her incredibly smooth skin. Moving to her lips again, the intense and slow kiss held a promise of contained words. Words that were not enough to describe the chemistry that happened between them in these moments. He wanted to watch her lose herself.

Feeling Jamie peeling his beautiful mouth away from her, Claire whimpered. He replied by putting his forehead against hers and swayed for a bit holding her in place. One hand tucked her hair behind her ear and a cheeky smirk came upon his face as he dragged his hands over her arms and laid down. She knew what he wanted. And she wanted to give it to him.

That bed and its magic blue quilt was their sanctuary, a place that held many whispers and sweet nothings, said in the dark of the night and in the fresh light of the dawn.

Jamie lay down and placed a hand on his wife, his goddess, guiding her to climb on top of him. The sensations was overwhelmingly satisfying, it was a lightning coursing through them, echoes of thunder reverberating through their limbs. Smiling at her, he put both hands on her shoulders as she started to rock. Slowly, he let his arms run along hers and up again. Their breathing was erratic.

She was supporting herself on him, the marble of his torso feeling like an anchor in a sea of blue quilt. “You feel so good, Jamie.”

“Mo nighean donn”, he said in a whisper like sob. “Don’t stop, Claire…” Moaning, their hearts and bodies rode each other. Jamie placed his hand in the center of Claire’s chest, feeling the frantic rhythm of her heart, slowly reaching for her ivory breasts, kneading and teasing her.

He loved watching her - her head dropping backwards as she started to lose herself in the moment - trying to remain “bodily sober” enough to see her face change a thousand beautifully different ways with their lovemaking, but he too was about to lose it as well.

Claire leaned forward gifting her breasts to him and Jamie thought heaven was upon him. Taking one nipple in his mouth, he sucked and softly bit and felt Claire shiver under her hands. She held his head with some force and if Jamie were to die for lack of air, he would have died one happy man.

“You’re so beautiful, Claire. Please don’t stop mo nighean donn, more.”  

“Oh Jamie, my love.”

Claire was starting to lose herself entirely, holding onto Jamie’s neck and shoulders wanting to kiss him, but not wanting him to take his mouth from where it was. Jamie groaned and sat up completely. She kissed him urging for his tongue to meet hers, trying to get into him and he was getting into her. So deep, so passionate, so so so much, but never enough.

Claire caressed his face, marveling at his furrowing brow, smoothing it, kissing it. They were still riding thunder as Jamie brought one hand down to touch the place, hot enough as to make metal melt, as to turn coal into diamond. Then, he buried his face in her neck, she burying her nails in his back, and ecstasy ensued. Together, they became one. Jamie kept his face on her neck, Claire was overdone with one long sob leaving her lips as the aftershocks came through. She couldn’t let go, she couldn’t breathe and neither could he.

After the lingering effects washed over them, Jamie held his well rested wife against him. She propped herself on her elbow, kissed and caressed his pecs and whispered, smiling, “Tha gaol agam ort, mo Seaumais”.

“‘Till our life should be done, my Claire.”

gifs © @suhailauniverse

(Thank you to the masters @suhailauniverse and @gotham-ruaidh for the advice and corrections <3 <3.)

I’m Back

Summary: Natsu welcomes Lucy home, in the way he knows best. NaLu Smut OneShot. 

Singspiration: If you fancy a laugh —> At Last - Etta James

ff.net/A03

A/N: I was going to flesh this out a bit more, but I decided I’ve been late enough haha! I hope you enjoy your requested smut @nalufever  . Also, credit where credit is due to @keii  for her amazing NaLu art that gave me inspiration ;) This story is 10% some kind of plot and 90% smut. ;)  

-x-

She paused, a shuddering breath left passed her lips. Too much time had passed since she had left. A year to be exact.  Absence taught her that time moved slowly when parted from the second half of her soul.

Natsu.

He would be charging towards her any minute now. Finding her scent from miles away wasn’t unusual, it was in his nature. Rooted to the spot, Lucy couldn’t find it within her to move. Still debating what she was going to say, what could she say that would be believable. She had never lied to him before, technically it was lying by omission. He would never have accepted she had to find Aquarius alone.

Hence the reason, travelling to the continent via the spirit world so he wouldn’t be able to track her.  

“He’s not here you know.” Pivoting quickly to source the voice, piercings and coal orbs came into view, eyes focused on her as he spoke, “Salamander’s on a job.”

“Gajeel.” He hadn’t aged a day.

“I hope you’re back for good Bunny,” Before she could turn around and head back, his words made her stop.

“You hurt him.”

And myself, she added silently in her head.

“I know.” She whispered, because what else could she say.

“Are you coming in or not?” He asked after a moment of contemplative quiet between the pair of them, brushing past her with a nod that signified that she should follow. She did so without complaint.  

“How is Levi?”

“Why don’t you ask her yourself?” He replied, patting her head gently as she caught up with his large ground swallowing footsteps.

Seeing Fairy Tail again sent her blood pressure soaring, happy memories surfacing in her mind. For now, she would concentrate on greeting her guildmates and worry about Natsu later.

-x-

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Kiwi: Part Six

A series based in Jamaica during the writing/recording of Harry’s new album.



The recording studio was smaller than she thought it would be.

From the outside, it really just looked like a regular house on the beachside. There were large bay windows that faced the water, which revealed a lounging area filled with several eclectic couches and a handful of acoustic guitars that hung on the walls.

They had spent most of the ten-minute walk in silence. Not the uncomfortable kind, by any means—but he could tell that there was something deeper going on in her mind, and he didn’t want to somehow made her feel pressured in any way.

He also couldn’t help but feel a tad bit nervous.

He couldn’t stop thinking about the words that she’d said back in the bar. Why did he like her? What was it about her that drew him to her so strongly, that made it so hard for him to just say goodbye and walk away?

The front of the beach house was adorned with a bright blue door that was decorated with a golden doorknob. There were several plants that hung off of the ceiling of the porch, and there were a few lounge chairs that had been set up. It was illuminated by a row of three lamps that hung from the ceiling, and the light of the moon reflected off of the water. The palm trees framed the home nicely—as Harry unlocked the front door and swung it open so they could head inside, she could smell the scent of rainclouds rolling onto the island.

“So this is where you hang out?” She asked, her eyes scanning the room as she walked inside. The front door opened right into the same sitting area she saw earlier with the bright colored couches and the acoustic guitars, except there were pictures that were hanging off of the walls which she didn’t see at first.

Some of them were abstract—colors and shaped that had been layered atop of each other in a way which made the artist feel something. Others were pictures: one of the Big Ben in London, another of the New York City Skyline, for example. It was an odd mix and match of art pieces, but they somehow went together perfectly.

“This is where I hang out…when you’re not dragging me around the island, that is,” he added, smiling. She couldn’t help but smile at his words, the unease that she had felt earlier already slightly dissipating.

“Don’t pretend you don’t like it,” she teased back halfheartedly, walking deeper into the room. Harry watched her as she looked around, and he smiled at the way she seemed to genuinely look at every square inch of what was put in front of her.

Most people rushed through every second of their lives. She might have been the only person he’d ever met who actually preferred to be at a stand-still.

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Just one of the guys

Just one of the guys
Avengers x Reader
Warnings: sexist comments

Summary: you hang out with the guys of avengers so much and they never see you dressed up as a “girl.” But after pietro joined the team, he made comments about how you were a boy and cannot believe you were a female because of how you dress or look. You proved him wrong and left him speechless.
*
“What do you guys want to watch?”

You were laying upside down on the couch, your head hanging at the edge.

You look blankly at the black tv screen.

“Whatever you guys want is fine with me,” says Steve looking at Tony.

“How bout you (Y/n),” Tony says, going on his knees and staring closely at your face.

You sighed,“ I don’t know, you haven’t watched Fast and Furious yet, right Steve?”

You turn to him and he nods his head no.

“Fast and furious it is,“says Tony, looking for the DVDs.

You sit up next to Steve, your legs spread open with your elbows on your knees and your back hunched over.

You sat like a guy, dressed like one too.

You wore a big, plain white tee and some sweatpants. Steve was wearing the same outfit too, and Tony, and Clint.

You had your hair in a weird, messy low bun. You didn’t wear makeup, you didn’t care about how you looked honestly.

Pietro walked in,” what are you guys watching?“

"All of the Fast and Furious movies, we’re on the first one right now,” you said looking at him,“ care to join us?”

He scoffed,“ that’s boring.”

“Don’t like fast car action typa movies? I do. I think they’re cool,” you said.

“They are not even fast,” he says sitting down,“ I am way faster.”

You roll your eyes.

“But anyways,” he says,“ don’t you all think that we should have more women in our team? I mean, we only have two and one of them is my sister. Plus Natasha scares me.”

“You only want girls in our team, to flirt with,” Clint says.

You scoffed,“ excuse me? Two? Hello, I’m right here?!”

Pietro laughs,“ you? You are a female?”

You open your mouth wide, who does he think he is.

Everyone just stayed quiet. Except for Steve but when he opens his mouth to speak, you put a finger on his lips. Pietro doesn’t know what’s coming.

They all get it though, you don’t dress like how other girls would dress or look.

“Anywaaaaaays,” Tony says breaking up the awkward silence,“ we’re having a party tonight, I forgot to tell you guys.”

“What time?” You asked.

“Starts at 9pm.”

“Tony it’s 8 o'clock.”

“Oops?"he shrugs.

You get up,"I’ll see you at the party I guess.”

Piet laughs,“ want to borrow one of my suits? I have a tie that would look great on you.”

Steve shoves his shoulder causing him to fall off of the couch.

*

“Pietro Maximoff.
You’re going to regret what you said,” you thought, while picking out the perfect dress.

Yes you had dresses. You just didn’t like wearing them.

You grabbed the sexiest one of them all.

It was a black, sleeveless and strapless, tight dress, that has a sweetheart neck line. It showed ALL of your curves and showed a good amount of skin. It went right above your knee.

You had your hair in waves and you put a some makeup on, not too much to the point where it doesn’t look like you.

You checked the time.

9:55.

Okay perfect, everyone should be there already right?

You head to the stairs and began to go down.

You felt like Cinderella, everyone had their eyes on you.

The whole team especially.

Wanda and Nat wore a smirk on their faces and the guys had their jaws on the floor. Including Pietro’s.

You finally got down and walked towards the group of men.

“Sup dudes?”

“Babe,” Steve says, walking up to you, putting his arms around your waist, and giving your cheek a kiss,“ you look beautiful .”

You blushed,“ aww, thanks baby.”

Pietro’s mouth was still hanging open.

You looked at him and smirked.

“Do I still look like a man to you Pietro, huh?”

He just stared and violently shook his head no.

“I thought so.”

“Come on, sweetheart,” Steve says, giving you his arm for you to hook your arms through,“ let’s dance.”

You and Steve walked off onto the dance floor.

Pietro finally found his voice back and turned to Tony,“ she’s dating S-Steve?”

Tony smirked,“ yeah, why? You want her now don’t you Speedy.”

Pietro looked down at his drink and took a sip, walking off.

“He totally wants her.”

A/N: let me know what you think! Remember, I post every Friday at 5pm PST! Update: ps. I just re read it and didn’t notice all my mistakes (spelling etc) oops! Fixed it now!

The Price of Privilege - Part 3 (A Kyungsoo Series)

Genre: Romance Fluff/Angst/ Future Smut - Arranged Marriage / Royalty AU

Characters: Kyungsoo X You

Description: Your time has come to marry the man your family has selected to take your hand. As royalty these important matters are arranged for you, but when you meet your soon to be husband, he is nothing like you expected.

The Price of Privilege: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, Part 6


You knew about the formal dinner with Queen Hong before the day came. Such events required days of preparation. There was the dress, the makeup, the hair, the hours in the shower to get your skin clean and nice smelling enough to be fit for a meal with the queen. Not to mention the mental preparation it took to get your game face on and rid yourself of any and all emotion that might be misconstrued as weakness or ignorance.

You weren’t sure about the details of the dinner, except for the fact that Queen Hong was not going to be alone. Your mind wandered to the possibility and the King himself might make an appearance. Such things weren’t unheard of, although you didn’t want to think about it too much, should your nerves decide to act up tonight.

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Painting meatballs

For @copperbadge: Sounds like you could use some cheering up this week. :) 


Most days, being a superhero did not pay off. He’d been chased through probably twenty miles of tunnel, managed to drop his last nine arrows down an open manhole (who just leaves manholes open?), and it was only by the grace of his fingertips that he hadn’t gone down after them. He’d forgotten to go grocery shopping, he had a headache from somewhere south of hell, and he was almost hungry enough to share a bowl of Kibbles ‘N’ Bits with Lucky and call it a night.

“Happy freaking birthday to me,” he grumbled as he trudged up the stairs to his apartment. By the time he realized that his keys had apparently gone the way of the arrows, he didn’t even have enough frustration left in him to swear. He dropped his head forward, hitting the door about ten million times harder than he’d meant to, and jerked away with both hands over his forehead.

He definitely didn’t think anyone could blame him for being a tiny bit slow to react when his apartment door opened by itself, but he did manage to have a knife up by the time the interloper leaned around the doorway.

Natasha quirked an eyebrow at him. “Is that a sharpened butter knife?”

Clint glowered at her and slid the blade back into his boot – one of only three, but his count, that hadn’t ended up buried in some guy’s thigh, or washed away in Shit River. “I had to improvise,” he defended. “Why are you in my apartment?”

The other eyebrow quirked up to join the first. “Why are you not in your apartment? Also, you smell like sewage.”

“Long story.”

She tipped her head to the left to examine him, and maybe he was projecting or something else that the group home counselor would have said was unhealthy, but he was positive she could see right through the smarting mark on his head and read his mind. Without a word, she stepped back to hold the door open and gestured inside with one hand.

“I’ll get you a beer.”

“Don’t have any,” Clint muttered. He had about half a bottle of Nat’s shitty vodka somewhere, though he’d used the whiskey for antiseptic the week before.

“Good thing Jan knows how to throw a party,” she said. Her smile softened slightly and she gestured in again. “Though Tony thought jumping out and yelling ‘surprise’ was a smart idea for all of twenty-two seconds.”

Clint shuddered just imagining the heart attack he would have had if he’d opened the door and yelling had been the result. He was suddenly grateful that he’d lost his keys – he’d forgotten all about Stark’s threatened birthday party, and he was more than a little surprised that everyone else had apparently remembered. Now that he was paying attention like an ex-assassin and current masked superhero with poor apartment security and lots of enemies should be, he could hear the faint chatter of about half a dozen people and the subtle clinking of forks on plates.

He glanced at the door and then over to the elevator. “Maybe I should just go get some chips or something.”

Natasha shrugged. “If you want. But your meatballs will probably be cold by the time you get back.”

Clint’s stomach emitted a loud snarl, and his mouth instantly flooded with saliva. Nat might have been kinder than most people gave her credit for, but she still laughed at him as he stood rooted to the spot, doing a good impression of a meatball-zombie. 

“Please tell me they’re not those bullshit fancy meatless-meatballs or whatever Pepper had A Thing about,” he begged.

“Nope, they’re the cheap frozen meatballs you get out of a bag and dump in the oven.”

He could have kissed her. He definitely did moan, “My favorite.”

His apartment had been cleaned, and it smelled like Pinesol and sweet sweet processed meatballs fresh from the oven. Every lamp he owned had been moved into the living room, which had apparently not been enough, because there was an Iron Man suit standing in the corner and glowing like a six-and-a-half-foot art deco lamp.

“Surprise?” Tony offered, from the kitchen, and Holy Patron Saint of I’m never letting you live this down, was wearing a bright yellow apron liberally splashed with hearts and smiling sunflowers, a matching pair of oven mitts, and a lime green party hat.

“Why are you like this?” Clint blurted out with a laugh.

“Laugh all you want,” Tony said, setting down a tray of freshly cooked previously frozen guaranteed delicious meatballs so he could point at Clint with one bemittened hand. His eyes transferred over Clint’s shoulder and he nodded faintly. “But I’m leaving this here when I go. You can thank Jan.”

“Happy birthday!” Jan said as soon as Clint turned to face her, looking like she was ready to burst. “I really want to hug you, but you have been out doing things that got you a little too close to a sewer. Air hug!” She announced and crossed her arms over her own chest, squeezing hard and twisting side-to-side.

It looked like a really nice hug, and Clint was even sorrier about the damned sewer. He looked between his bathroom door and the piles of warm meatballs, and made a noise that he normally would have blamed on Lucky, but Lucky was on his back in the middle of the living room, shamelessly soaking up the belly rubs from Thor and getting his muzzle petted by Steve.

Natasha pushed past him to the kitchen, piled a dozen meatballs on a purple plate with the Hawkeye symbol stamped in the middle, and nudged him away with one finger. “They should be cooled down by the time you wash your hands. Go!”

Clint eagerly took the plate, leaned over, and lipped one of the meatballs right off the top. He tried to smirk at her, but was too busy sucking air in around the molten mouthful as she pushed him toward his bedroom.

~*~

Despite orders to the contrary, Clint had devoured the plate of meatballs before his shower, and he felt less likely to gnaw someone’s arm off by the time he made it back to the living room. A long folding table had been wedged between the couch and the bar, and it looked like Jan had dumped the entire Hawkeye section of Party City on top of it. It was cheesy, and stupid, and perfect. He stood in the doorway for a second to just look it over – they were all pretending that he wasn’t staring at them, and that was what good friends were for when you just got off of a Hell Week leading into Nightmare Night. Lucky was up on his back legs so he could have his front paw on Tony’s lap and was doing his damndest to get at the mountain of meatballs in the center of the table.

“I’m not feeding you,” Tony told the dog seriously, but his hand was wrapped around Lucky’s ribs to rub at his belly. “Seriously, have I ever fed a single thing in your entire life? Why don’t you go to climb in Steve’s lap? He’s a dog person, and I know for sure that he’s fed you at least once tonight.”

“That was just a treat, Tony,” Steve protested.

“He said the word treat,” Tony told Lucky, which just got him a messy kiss across the cheek and Tony leaning comically sideways in the chair to in a vain attempt to avoid it.

“Just push him away,” Clint suggested, stepping into the living room and climbing over the couch to get the open chair.

Tony gave him a frankly scandalized look, but turned back to Lucky to say, “You’re not getting anywhere with this. I am immune to canine flattery.”

“Not all canine flattery,” Natasha muttered, and for some unfathomable reason, Steve blushed and kicked her under the table. Natasha neatly dodged, and held an open beer out for Clint, so cold that it had mist curling out of the neck and droplets running down the sides.

“I love you,” Clint told her very seriously.

“I know,” she answered.

He swallowed about half of it before pressing the cold bottle gently to his forehead and rolling it back and forth. This was the life – why did he not have a million roommates again? He set the bottle aside and looked down to realize that what he’d mistaken for plates were actually large plastic painter’s pallets with little cups of “paint” set around the edges. There was a bright purple cup of paintbrushes sitting opposite his beer, and a stack of napkins with the Avengers Assemble cartoon Hawkeye at his elbow.

Jan leaned forward to explain, but Clint just shoved his finger in the yellow paint and licked it off – spicy mustard, the kind he got at Chinese restaurants and poured over everything.

“Or you could just do that,” Jan finished, laughing. “It was Steve’s idea.”

“This,” Clint said, snagging a meatball off the pile and a paintbrush, “Is the best birthday idea ever.”

Jan nudged Tony, who was still not-really fending off Lucky’s affectionate begging. “And you wanted to bring wine,” she scoffed.

Clint had three painted meatballs stuffed in his mouth when Jan climbed out of her chair and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. She leaned over to press their cheeks together and squeezed hard, rocking him gently side-to-side.

“Happy birthday.”

“’appy meathba’ ‘ay,” Clint corrected, but he reached up to squeeze her wrist and leaned back against her.

Maybe he was just imagining it or something, but it seemed like his headache was gone.

College Alex Drunk Dials the Cute Girl from Bio Class: Part Two (the morning after)

By absurdly popular demand, here is the second part of this story: https://queercapwriting.tumblr.com/post/160028331674/sanvers-in-college-alex-drunk-dials-the-cute-girl

@technicallynotahuman @sarcasticallyinspired (don’t sacrifice anyone here it is ;) ) @danielagzzda @a-few-of-my-favorite-turtles @mahaokby @kryptons-lesbian @like-rain-and-phones and all yall commenting on Ao3, see what happens when you ask nicely? ;)


She wakes before Alex does.

Of course she wakes before Alex does – she doesn’t have red solo cups brimmed with punch working its way out of her bloodstream.

The sun’s just coming in through the blinds on her small window, and she can’t help but stare at the girl laying above her, in her bed, tangled in her sheets.

Alex hasn’t moved all night – she’s still out cold in the same position Maggie helped her into a few hours ago.

She smiles, and she forces herself to look away from how peaceful her best friend’s big sister looks. How peaceful, as opposed to how intense she always seems, how intent on getting everything right, on understanding everything immediately, on protecting Kara. How gorgeous she looks. Like she always does.

She forces herself to look away because it wouldn’t be fair.

Wouldn’t be fair to stare at the sleeping form of the girl she’s had a crush on since she first laid eyes on her – sitting front center in their bio lecture, while Maggie sat all the way up in the back – it was just the back of her head, then, her sweater and the way she took copious notes, and the clean, confident quality of her voice when she answered questions, when she demanded explanations for things that seemed to make no sense – things the professors didn’t have answers for, so the girl found her own.

Maggie had lingered in her seat, that first day. Lingered, because she wanted to see this girl stand up, turn around. Wanted to see her face.

And when she did – god, when she did – Maggie almost swooned, because god, she’s the most beautiful girl Maggie had ever seen.

She knew immediately that she had no chance. That this girl was way out of her league.

So when she befriended Kara Danvers in her English class, her stomach clenched when she slowly started to realize that the girl she had a crush on was her new friend’s older sister.

God, to be a lesbian.

So it wouldn’t be fair to stare at her now, even after Alex’s drunken confessions the night before.

Because hell, she was probably just lonely, just drunk, just looking for a good time.

Because there was no way someone as brilliant, as dedicated, as gorgeous as Alex Danvers would ever even notice her, let alone…

Whatever. It’s whatever.

She stands quietly and pads into the kitchen, rummaging for instant coffee, for water, for a banana, for aspirin. Alex will probably need all of them when she wakes.

Maggie settles back onto the floor with a calculus text book, her back against the wall, eyes deliberately not on Alex’s sleeping form, but facing her so she can make sure she’s alright. Make sure she’s not having nightmares or anything.

She forces herself to focus on studying – just one more exam, tonight – so she doesn’t focus on the deep, slow rhythm of Alex’s breath. Doesn’t focus on the idea, the image, of Alex in her bed.

In her bed.

God.

She needs to focus.

But then Alex is stirring, and Maggie is glancing up, and Alex is checking to see if she has her clothes on, and Maggie’s fists clench and her heart breaks.

“Maggie.” Her voice is groggy and her voice is perfect.

“Morning,” Maggie offers, still like if she moves, she’ll scare Alex more than she already looks scared.

“Did I – did we – ”

“No.” She shakes her head firmly, and Alex instantly believes her.

“God. Because if we did, I’d want to remem – ” But then she does remember.

Remembers her drunken call, remembers her confessions. Remembers Maggie calling her sweetie, remembers Maggie running to get her, to give her water.

Remembers telling Maggie she wants to kiss her, and something about a promise to continue the conversation when Alex is sober. If she wants.

And she does want. God, does she want.

But right now? Right now, her face is red and she’s rolling over in Maggie’s bed – in Maggie’s bed, in Maggie’s bed – and she’s groaning and she’s apologizing, apologizing, over and over and over.

And then there are tentative hands on her back, on her shoulder, and there’s whispering, soft and gentle and careful and protective.

“Hey, hey, hey, Danvers. Alex. You have nothing to apologize for. Okay? It happens. Being drunk and all. It’s okay, you’re okay, I don’t… I don’t think any less of you or – ”

“But I was so pathetic – ”

“No.” The sternness in Maggie’s voice makes her take her hands away from her face and look up at her, at her messy hair, still in the basketball shorts and hoodie she’d thrown on last night.

“No, Alex, you’re not pathetic. Okay? Far from it, you – ”

“Maggie.”

“Yeah.”

“Can you get up?”

“Oh! Yeah, of course, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have just – ”

“No, it’s not that, it’s just – I have to pee.”

Maggie grins, partly amused, mostly relieved that Alex wasn’t repulsed by her touch. She bows and sweeps her hands toward her bathroom, and Alex returns the grin shyly.

Maggie collapses onto her bed and sighs and stares at her hands and tries to calm her racing heart, her burning desire.

She waits a few long minutes, until she hears Alex call, “Hey Maggie, can I use your mouthwash?”

“Course you can!” she calls back, her heart racing, glad she’d brushed her own teeth while Alex was still sleeping, because Alex had said she wanted to kiss her, and maybe, just maybe… but no. No, no. She was probably just trying to get rid of the taste of old alcohol in her mouth. That had to be it.

She’s still trying to convince herself not to get her hopes up – because god knows that never does any good – when she realizes that Alex has opened the bathroom door, is leaning on it, holding it, her head resting on it, staring at Maggie with a slightly tilted head.

“You okay?” she asks, and Maggie almost jumps.

“Aren’t I supposed to be asking you that? You hungover?”

Alex stretches her neck out like she’s testing herself, and she shakes her head.

“Not really. You took good care of me.”

Maggie splutters, and she doesn’t remember any girl ever making her splutter before.

“I just gave you some water.”

Alex nods to the banana, aspirin, and water Maggie had already set out for you. “You did more than that.”

Maggie shrugs and stands, pushing off the bed with her hands on her thighs.

“Just being a good campus citizen, Danvers.”

Alex’s face drops, and Maggie’s heart goes along with it. Alex crosses the room slowly, tentatively, and Maggie forgets how to breathe.

“Is that all?” Alex wants to know, and Maggie can look at nothing but her lips, breathe nothing but her breath, think nothing but her confessions the night before. Noticing her. Liking her. How smart she is. How cute. That she’s been wanting to have Maggie take her back to her room. Been wanting to kiss her.

“I… Alex…”

Alex backs up immediately, her face a map of disappointment, of humiliation. Of self-hatred.

“I’m sorry – ”

“No, Alex, I… I sit all the way up in the back of the lecture hall, how did you even… notice me?”

Alex smiles at that, at the hope she hears in Maggie’s voice, and she plops back down on Maggie’s bed. Maggie joins her on the rumpled sheets, and they both gulp when they realize that they might be fully clothed, they might be sitting up, but they are, technically, in bed together.

“I can’t imagine ever not noticing you, Maggie,” Alex admits with no breath, with a bright red face and with shaking hands.

“But I’m just…”

“Beautiful. You’re so beautiful,” Alex whispers, and Maggie shakes her head.

“Alex – ”

“You said… I know I was drunk, but I could never forget this – you said you’d come to bed with me. Kiss me. If I still wanted to, sober. And I’m sober. And I… I still want to kiss you. Were you just being nice, or do you – ”

Maggie cuts off her words with her lips, with gentle hands on Alex’s face, thumbs swiping over her cheeks, index fingers lost in her jawline, under her short hair, and Alex raises her eyebrows, still with shock for a moment before she steadies herself with one hands on Maggie’s shoulder and the other on her face, kissing her back, kissing her back, kissing her back.

Maggie gasps when Alex’s lips part for her tongue, and heat tears through her body when Alex swoons against her with a gasp softer than air but more intense than anything Maggie has ever heard or felt.

Alex tastes like her mouthwash and she tastes like her heaven, and god, god, god, she’s never understood the whole fireworks thing until this moment, here, now, Alex Danvers’s trembling fingers on her shoulders, Alex’s tongue exploring her lips, Alex’s body shifting so they’re as close as they can be without laying down, Alex kissing her like she’s never been kissed, like she’s never been seen, like she’s never been cared for, attended to… appreciated.

They kiss until neither of them can breathe, until they have to part their lips and press their foreheads together and breathe. Just breathe.

“Wow,” Maggie whispers.

“I’ve been wanting to do that,” Alex smiles, and Maggie mirrors it.

“Same, Danvers. Same.”

“So you’re saying you like me back. Cause that’s… that’s what I got.”

Maggie chuckles. What a nerd.

What a perfect, perfect nerd.

“Of course, you’re not gonna make me wait a whole term for our next kiss, are you?”

It’s Alex’s turn to chuckle, to run her fingers over Maggie’s hair, to pull her into their next kiss.

Their next kiss, and far, far, far from their last.