the 'come closer to the edge of the bed in your bare feet'

tsundere (m)

Originally posted by nnochu

⇢ resident advisor! yoongi x reader, college au

⇢ word count: 11.2k

⇢ summary: according to the rumours, min yoongi is a bad apple- doesn’t take grades seriously, drinks as if he has two livers, a certified bad boy™. when you get paired up with him for a project, you’d never expect that someone like him would have a thing or two to teach you about life itself- and how it should be lived. 

⇢ warnings: angst, smut

🎵 song recommendation: something just like this by coldplay x the chainsmokers

a/n: finally something that isn’t pwp????? :”) 


Panic races through your veins and fills up your airway, causing your breathing to double itself, chest heaving in an attempt to calm yourself down. No, this can’t be happening, you chant to yourself over and over. The clock on your laptop is glaringly bright in the near darkness of your room, and the numbers burn themselves into the back of your eyelids. When you close your eyes, the uncomfortable stinging of your contact lenses makes your eyes water and at this point they might as well be tears of desperation.

It’s not like you’ve never had writer’s block before, you reason with yourself. You just have to start writing and edit along the way. Your own voice of reason is drowned out by the anxiety that echoes all the possible consequences of not acing this paper. It’s nearly 4 am and the essay you have so far in front of you is not enough to get an A, you know it in your bones but you can’t come up with anything better either. You could just submit this as it is, but anything less than an A on this paper would pull you down from the cusp of that ever elusive first class honours. And you can’t afford to graduate with anything less than that. The very thought of it sends a fresh chill of panic that creeps down your spine and jolts your fingers into a typing frenzy, spilling thoughts and ideas onto your screen till you reach the end of the page.

But when you read over what you’ve written, it doesn’t make sense at all, just incoherent rambling sentences strung together into a never ending paragraph. In frustration you shove your laptop away from you and push back your chair, reaching for your keys and phone. Sneaking a peek at your roommate’s still form across the room, you let yourself out of the room silently, feeling your tensed shoulders relax immediately as the cool night air embraces you with open arms.

It’s a little chilly to be out in just a long shirt and sleep shorts, but since there’s no one awake to catch you dressed like this, it’s the least of your concerns for now. The balcony that is attached to your room affords a little privacy, and it’s one of the perks of occupying the corner room on this floor. The tranquillity of the cold, autumn night directly contrasts with the millions of theories and concepts running through your mind, and any attempts at clearing your mind are failing pathetically. The residential halls are eerily silent at this time of the night, and as you glance down over the protective railings, you consider how easy it would be to just climb over, just one leg over and then-

“Late night?” You whirl around at the interruption of a raspy, gruff voice sounding from behind you. Your eyes are met with a figure clothed in an oversized sweatshirt and jeans, but it’s only when you squint in the darkness to survey his face that you realise who he is.

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Obey (Jimin/Reader)

Originally posted by sweaterpawsjimin

Prompt: OH GOD WEREWOLF JIMIN AU SMUTSMUTSMUT I’m trash for dominant werewolf Jimin + Can you please write a smut (werewolf! jimin and reader) where he goes into heat, and gets really horny/possessive with the reader? Thank you very much~

Genre: Smut - Werewolf!AU (In Heat)

Words: 2.1K+

Author: Admin Kaycie

Summary: Everyone has a bit of sadistic nature buried deep within the confines of their most intimate desires, a dark sensation that consumes the mind, body, and soul when the time is right. For Park Jimin, that animalistic desire was something that had cursed him since the day he first turned eighteen years old, a spark reigniting with each full moon. It devoured him whole, taking complete control of his body until he could quench the nearly insatiable thirst for dominance. 

Tags: Dom!Jimin, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Sub!Reader, Orgasm Denial, Dirty Talk, etc. 


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Better With Age

Summary: Sam freaks out a little about growing older. You comfort him.

Word Count: 1900ish

Warning: standard smut, a little dirty talk

A/N: Hope y’all enjoy this one! XOXO


It’s the little things.

Sam starts an intense multivitamin regimen in the mornings. He cuts back on the beer. He tries his best to start sleeping five or six hours instead of the usual four.

You get it. You aren’t twenty-one years old anymore either. Sore muscles take a couple of days longer to heal, too many beers at dinner makes you feel awful the next day, and you just simply don’t have the stamina you used to.

Sam is just trying to ward off middle-age as long as he can, despite the fact that he’s not even there yet.

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Ink my Skin

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader
Rating: Teens and Up
Summary: Steve wants to draw on Reader’s skin and she doesn’t expect what she sees in the mirror.
Word Count: 1.5k
Genre: Fluff!
Warnings: none.

Special thank you to @punkrockhippiefromthefourties for being my beta! xx

Originally posted by baylee004

As you sat on one of the two armchairs in your bedroom, you tucked your leg under the other while your bare feet rested on the edge of the coffee table. You held your tablet in your hands with your earbuds in your ears, watching your favorite show on Netflix.

You had come back from an assignment only a few hours ago and all you wanted to do was have some time for yourself and your boyfriend, Steve. The breaks from work were rare since you had joined the Avengers a year and a half ago, but the good side was you had found a family and a loving boyfriend.

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Views (Smut)

MASTERLIST

Word count: 2,557

“This is amazing, Shawn” I muttered, my jaw dropping amazed. 

“Dude, it’s dope” Brian agreed, nodding excited. 

Shawn had invited us all around to see his new flat and though the rooms were impressive, Shawn’s view over Toronto beat every view I’d ever seen in my entire life. Even the sunset Brian and I once watched in Sri Lanka didn’t do this one justice.

“Your mother outdid herself finding this” I said, looking out at the CN Tower lighting colourfully up in the dark. 

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Here Are My Colors

Anthony Ramos x Reader

Requested: anthony x reader where reader is anthony’s longterm girlfriend who stuck with him through him never being home, missing out on date nights for rehearsals & performances, & really through everything together. when the show hits broadway, anthony starts staying waaay later than he has to @ the theatre & on readers 3 year anni with him, he insists he has to stay late at the theatre when they already had plans together & reader discovers it was just bc he wanted to hang out with jasmine

Words: 6,149 (i get it man, I’m so extra)

Warnings:  swearing, cheating, AND angst, SO much angst, I’m sorry

A/N: I WANT TO DEDICATE THIS FIC TO THE MOST AMAZING PERSON, ELL @lookaroundlookaroundhowlucky. THANK YOU FOR LOOKING OVER THIS & FOR LITERALLY MAKING ME LAUGH & SMILE EVERY SINGLE FUCKING DAY. I LOVE YOU & I APPRECIATE THE SHIT OUTTA YA GIRL. Y’ALL GO CHECK HER OUT, SHE SLAYS THE GAME EVERYDAY.

ALSO, I have no words as to how PROUD I am of this fic, it’s UNREAL. It took me so long to write and I love it, it’s basically my child. PLEASE ENJOY.

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Never Too Early

Originally posted by aestheticvbts

Description: Hoseok decides it’s never too early for a bit of dessert.

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: Don’t ask. I just needed to write this. It’s been plaguing me. Shoutout to @ellieljade who’s become my beta, apparently. Obviously, this was the next stage of friendship we were meant to ascend to.

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You Understand, Right? (Part 5): And Broken Hearts

Characters: Dean Winchester x Sister!Reader / Friend!Reader, Sam Winchester x Sister!Reader / Friend!Reader

Length: 1665+ words

TW: Nothing in this chapter!

A/N: I’ve been considering writing a sister chapter to this one in Y/N’s perspective, but I’m not sure if I have time. Plus, you guys are getting so many fics from me this month lol… We’ll see. I’m pretty swamped with other stuff so I make no promises… Hahaha get it?… Yea, I’m lame.  

Feedback is appreciated (AND SO ARE YOU)!

SERIES MASTERLIST


Dean didn’t follow her, too shocked at her words. He sat down on the edge of his bed thinking about what in the world would make her say such things. He just stared at the floor of his room. Her words ringing inside his brain as he tried to make sense of it. Of everything.

“I understand, Dean.”

“You and Sam need each other… But you don’t need me.”

“I’ve lost count of the promises you’ve broken.”

“What the hell?” he mumbled, massaging his temple. “What is she talking about?”

Dean remembered making only two promises to her in his lifetime. He promised to take care of her, and be there for her. This was the promise he made with everyone he ever cared about. Anyone who knew Dean knew that he would always be there for them when they needed help.

He knew from a young age not to make promises he couldn’t make. John lectured him for hours after he once promised a kid that they would save his mom. They lost the mom to the werewolf. His dad was livid- not only because they lost another life, but because he had given this kid hope. Ever since then, Dean didn’t make promises he couldn’t keep. And he was sure that Y/N knew he would never break a promise if he could help it. Not that she’s ever asked him to make any promises. There were only two cases where she had asked him to promise her something.

“Dean, look! I got a part in the play!” Y/N said excitedly, showing him the piece of paper with her name on it.

“Yea?” He peered over, flashing her a proud grin. “Good job, squirt!”

“You’re gonna come see it, right?”

“Of course!” He ruffled her hair before going back to his homework.

“Promise?”

“Promise,” he said, not even looking up from his math problem.

Dean swallowed thickly as he realized that he didn’t show up to her play, choosing to attend Sam’s spelling bee instead.

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Kiss My Ass - Stiles Stilinski/Mitch Rapp AU [Smut]

Author: @writing-obrien

Character(s): Stiles Stilinski/Reader, Mitch Rapp/Reader, Scott McCall, Malia Tate, Lydia Martin, Liam Dunbar and some guy called Remington.

Word Count: 22, 488 and I’m not even sorry about it.

Notes: Well, here it is! The highly anticipated ‘Kiss My Ass’ fic to honour reaching 2000 followers alongside the competition, so I really hope you guys enjoy this because I worked on it for MONTHS. I need to thank some girls, because this would not have been done without them. Thank you to my wonderful babes @dumbass-stilinski and @rememberstilinski and @sincerelystiles and the @thelittlestkitsune and @stilinski–jpeg because without them this would not be complete, I owe them big time. Especially Steff, who proofread this entire fucking thing. Shout-out to her for not flying to England and stabbing my enough times to match the word count. So warnings, hmmm.. we have cheating, bleeding, injury, kidnapping, hostages, and major character death. on the side I know you’re all here for we’ve got oral (both receiving), many different positions, over-stimulation, squirting, first-times, masturbation, public sex, and teasing.


Originally posted by teenwxlves


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Knuckles : Boxer!Ashton One Shot

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven

[Following anyone/everyone who leaves some form of thoughtful feedback x]

- Knuckles Playlist


Talk about a third date. 

If it were any other boy you’d probably be out at a restaurant or something on a night like this, flirting nervously across the dinner table while you try to decipher if he likes you enough to take your relationship to the next level. You’ve gone through the dating routine once or twice before, and had a pretty good idea of what to expect; if someone had told you a month ago you’d be standing right outside of a boxing ring while your date and another shirtless man beat each other to a pulp, you would’ve thought they were crazy. 

The crowd around you gasps and your own stomach lurches, empathetically feeling the punch that Ashton just took to the cheek. Blood is already dripping down his face, the source of it located just over his left eyebrow. He looks like a mess yet he’s still on his feet somehow, determined to keep retaliating, apparently even if it kills him. 

“Don’t worry,” Calum says next to you after noticing your concerned expression, “I’ve seen him win in worse conditions." 

You want to smile, appreciative of his effort to ease your mind, but every couple of seconds Ashton keeps getting hit, hard. It doesn’t matter to you whether he wins or loses, you just hope that your fourth date won’t have to take place beside a hospital bed. 

"Is it almost over?” you ask Calum, too new to this sport to know the ins and outs of the rule book. 

“One more round after th–Oh!

You missed what happened, but look back at the ring to find the opponent, a man named Donovan Diaz, struggling to stand up. Given the cheers from the audience, it sounds like most of the people here have their money on Ashton, and he just brought them one step closer to profiting. 

The round concludes and the fighters return to their separate corners, two teams quickly making their way into the ring to begin fixing up their boys. You wish you were allowed up there, yearning just to talk to Ashton, to treat him gently after witnessing the beating he’s taken for the last half an hour. Sitting on the short stool between rounds is the closest he’s been to you all night, each break like a minute-long tease that only makes you want to be near him more. You haven’t even said hi to him yet, not given the chance to do so before the match started. 

He knows you’re here, though. He spotted you next to his friend Calum after walking away from the first round, and lost focus for a brief second to give you a smile and a flirty wink. Some crowd members noticed, chiming in with playful remarks and whistles, causing your cheeks to burn bashfully. Ashton seemed so confident and well put together then, but that spark isn’t as evident now that he can barely keep his swollen eyes open while his crew tidies up his blood-splattered face. 

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A Little Death - Warren Worthington III

words - 1,659

pairing - warren worthington iii x fem!reader

warnings - pure smut, daddy kink, bondage, oral (fr), thigh riding, edging

a/n - this is the kinkiest thing i’ve ever written (inspired by a little death by the neighborhood) and now i need to bath myself in holy water :))))))

@kurtwxgners , @shayara , @rax-writes , @v-writings , @phoenixejean  

hope ya’ll don’t mind me taggin you!

______________________________________________________________


Your breath came out in short gasps, goosebumps raising on your skin as you squirmed, pulling your arms against the pieces of pink silk holding your wrists to the bedpost. Warren’s fingers trailed themselves up your thigh, avoiding the area that craved them most, and worked his way up to your lips. His thumb stopped on your lip, parting your lips slightly, your tongue darting out quickly, before taking the tip of his finger into your mouth.

He groaned, tilting his head to the side a fraction, before he pulled the finger away from your mouth, the warmth of his body leaving yours. He laid on his stomach between your legs, which were tied to the other side of the bed, the same pink ribbons adorning your ankles. He dragged a knuckle from your knee up to your core, lightly brushing against the neglected bundle of nerves at the top. Your breathing hitched as your fingers wrapped tightly around the soft ribbons, pulling slightly.

A low chuckle left his mouth, his breath fanning across your thighs, sending yet another shudder up your spine. You whimpered, jaw clenched tight as his thumb hovered slightly over your clit, but never put the slightest bit of pressure. “Warren, please.”

“‘Please’ what babydoll?” He said, a smirk gracing his angelic features. “You’re going to have to be a lot more specific than that.”

“Please, touch me. You’re being such a tease.” You drew in a sharp breath as his hand rested on your inner thigh.

“Touch you like…this? Is this what you want?” He ran his hand up and down your thigh, the side of his thumb barely brushing your aching core, but not enough to give you any relief. “If you want something, you gotta ask for it.”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your shaky voice. “Please, touch me. I-I want you to make me feel good, daddy.”

His eyes darkened as he drew his bottom lip between his teeth. His hand stopped on your upper thigh, before traveling down to your sex. His thumb pressed down on your clit, before making small, slow circles around the sensitive nub. He grinned at you before ducking his head down, lips trailing over your inner thigh to where his thumb was currently working. He slowly slid his index finger down your lips, before circling your entrance.

You moaned, legs already shaking and straining against the smooth ties. His mouth devoured your core as his finger slowly slipped in, pumping in and out a few times before curling it in a ‘come-here’ motion.

The feeling of his fingers and oh-so-sinful mouth of his working you at the same time sent you spiraling. He felt your walls clench as you teetered on the edge of euphoria, before pulling away quickly, leaving you dangling on the edge. You whimpered, hips bucking in a futile attempt to gain some friction. “Uh huh, little girl. You’re not coming that easily. You gotta work for it.”

He climbed off the bed, walking around to the end of it, before gently untying your ankles. He stood at your feet, rubbing slow, soothing circles into the skin of your ankles before moving up to your head and repeating the same actions with your wrists. He carefully pulled you up into a sitting position, thumbs rubbing small circles on the back of your hands. He sat at the edge of the bed before gently lifting you up and placing you on his thigh, the denim rough against the smooth skin of your inner thighs. He placed his hands on your hips, gripping them tightly, as he pressed you firm against the muscle of his thigh. “Fuck yourself on my thigh.”

Your breath caught in your throat as your eyes immediately locked with his.

“You heard me right, kitten,” he chuckled, fingertips digging into the skin on the side of your hips. He used his hands to move them back and forth on his thigh, causing you to gasp at the friction. He stopped, but his hands stayed where they were. “Fuck yourself on my thigh.”

You placed your hands on his shoulders, gaining leverage before you began to drag your core along his thigh, breathing hard and ragged. You started out slow, but you gradually gained speed, leaving a line of wetness along Warren’s jeans. He groaned as your hips stuttered against his thigh, legs shaking, the wetness practically dripping from your core seeping through the fabric. Your body began to heat up as you neared your peak, the knot beginning to form in the pit of your stomach. A few more drags along the ridges of his thigh and You broke, back arching, pressing your chest against his, as your body trembled, fingers digging into his shoulders.

He grunted as he hauled you up and placed you back on the bed before stepping away from it once more. The bulge in his jeans prominent as he undid the belt, taking his sweet, sweet time while giving you a little show. He draped the belt over the end of the bed before unbuttoning his jeans and pulling down the zipper. He smirked as he saw your eyes dart to that little patch of skin peeking out from under his briefs.

Youn one slow, yet fluid motion he began to pull down his jeans, his wings lightly brushing the wall behind him, his briefs lowering with his pants. His member stood at attention, tip red and dripping. A small moan left the back of your throat as he motioned for you to go to him. You got up and took a couple steps towards him. He grabbed your forearms, turning your back to him, before pushing me face first on the plush bed. He kept your arms behind your back as he shuffled around behind you.

You soon felt the cold leather of his black belt wrap around your wrists a few times, before he secured it tightly. He gripped his cock, brushing it against your folds, before prodding your entrance. A choked-off whimper left your throat, as your fingers tried to grab onto him despite knowing he was out of reach. “Warren p-”

A resounding smack landed on your ass, a moan erupting from your half-open mouth, your body already shaking. “What was that, princess?”

You took a shaky breath, trying to regain some semblance of your composure and dignity, before speaking. “Daddy, please, daddy. I need you.”

“I told you before, babygirl, you gotta use your words. What is it you want?”

“I-” You paused, clenching your jaw as he shifted his hips, hard member rubbing against your wet core. “I-I need you to fuck me, daddy. Please, daddy.”

He let out a shaky breath, the grip his hands had on your hips tightening.”As you wish, princess.”

He buried himself in you in a single, plunging stroke. He stilled, groaning as your walls clenched and constricted his cock, the sound causing another aching wave to travel straight to your core. He slowly began to thrust, in and out, making sure you could accommodate his size. As he felt you loosen slightly, your body more relaxed, he began to piston his hips against yours vigorously. You moaned loudly as his hand made contact with your ass once more before grabbing a handful of it and using it to pull you closer to him.

“No coming until I tell you, right babygirl?” He ground out between gritted teeth.

“Y-yes, daddy.”

You felt that familiar heat travel to your lower stomach, your grip on your fingers tightening, as you let out a choked-off moan. He thrusted hard, then stopped, grinding his hips against your ass. He pulled out and quickly undid the belt before flipping you over and plunging into you once more. He fucked in and out of you, your colliding hips causing the obscene skin-to-skin sound to reverberate through the room. He trailed his hand up your chest, finger flicking quickly over your nipple, before wrapping around your throat, tightening slightly.

His hips stuttered against yours as he tilted his head back. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, the combined pressure of his cock moving in and out and his hand around your throat sending endorphins to every inch of your body. He released your neck, allowing you to draw in a breath, as you desperately tried to postpone your orgasm.

“Daddy, I-I can’t-”

He growled, hand landing hard on your ass once more. “Go ahead, princess. I’m right behind you.”

You cried his name as your orgasm hit you hard, body convulsing and back arching off the bed. He leaned down, burying his face in your shoulder as he growled. He quickly pulled out and jerked himself, his come landing across your abdomen and breasts. His wings stretched out behind him, longest feathers barely brushing the floor, and he worked himself through his orgasm. You laid on the bed, chest heaving, body tired and spent. You heard his groan before everything was still, the only sound in the room being your combined pants.

You felt the bed dip and him kiss your forehead before he padded out of the room, feet thudding along the wood flooring. He came back with a wet washcloth and slowly and carefully wiped away the mess on your torso, before making his way down to your core.

When he was done he threw the washcloth in the wash basket, opened your drawer and grabbed a pair of panties and one of his old band shirts. He slipped the pink lace up your legs and over your hips, before helping you sit up and slipping the shirt over your head. He put on a pair of sweats and climbed in the bed beside you, wrapping his arm around your waist while pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

“You alright, princess?”

You nodded, turning around to face him in his arms and pressing a soft kiss to his lips, before burying your face in his chest, your breathing evening out.

Migraine

Originally posted by hothothotgg

Prompt: “Can you write a Harry styles imagine where he wakes you up in the middle of the night with a migraine and he needs you to take care of him because he doesn’t feel good ?? Thanks darling!” -Anon

Word Count: 1,106. 

Ah- Ah- Ah -Ah I’ve got a migraine. There’s a couple tøp references in this heh. Apologies that it’s so short! Wrote this in the hour of free time that I had lol. Thank you for requesting :) I’m slowly moving down my lists of requests now that I got a new laptop! Next one will be a Josh Dun imagine. 

Love to you, Iz xx


Fuck. Harry thinks to himself, green eyes reluctantly opening. He moves to grip his head only to realise his arm is stuck in your firm grasp. Another line of profanities slips from his lips as he edges it out of your arms. You stir slightly before flipping to the other side, a sigh of relief leaving his lips.

Fucking hell this hurts. Harry clutches his head, which is now aching. He knew exactly what was coming on. The discomfort only increases the more he rouses himself. His eyes shut, the pain reverberating throughout the rest of his skull. 

How the hell did this even happen? He didn’t even drink much before going to bed- just a couple wine glasses of wine at his dinner party with Jeff and Glenn.

His free hand pats the bedside table for the glass of water you always made sure to set out in case of instances like this. The migraine picks at him as he gulps down the glass and decides medicine would be the only cure.

The hardwood floor is frigid underneath his feet and Harry reminds himself to start wearing socks to bed; the winter months in London are always unforgiving.

Not wanting to worsen the pain, he is forced to search for the medicine in the dark. His fingers brush over a bottle similar to his usual pain relief bottle so he pours two into his hands. However once the pills touch his palm, his brows furrow. They’re circular instead of the usual capsule-shaped pills. 

He pulls the bottle closer, eyes widening at the label. “Fast Acting Laxatives” reads the jar, causing Harry to yelp and drop it. He was this close to taking two of them. He winces at the sound of hard plastic hitting the floor, knowing several little pills spilt out. 

Why ‘ave we even got these in the first place? Oh shit, wait, yeah. Harry answers his own question, thinking back to the time he pranked Louis back by crushing one and putting it into his drink. Serves Louis right though, no one messes with Harry’s boots, especially if it is to draw something on them.

Rummaging through the rest of the drawer, he finally comes across the correct bottle of medicine after carefully examining the label despite the strain in his eyes and pulse in his head.

He quietly pads back to the bed, hoping to fall asleep quickly and wake up feeling better. Your eyes flutter open at the sudden dip and wave of warmth, turning to glance at your husband.

“Harry?” You mumble in the darkness, reaching a hand out for his. He curses to himself, having woken you up.

He cuddles closer to you, tugging your body onto his chest. He’s afraid if he tells you about the raging migraine in his head, you’ll feel compelled to stay awake and take care of him. He murmurs a reply you just barely register. 

“Go back to sleep, darlin.” You don’t have to be told twice as you drift off, sleep becoming of you once again.

A small smile etches across his face as he feels you falling deeper. 

Though once your breathing slows, Harry regrets not telling you what was wrong as the throbbing only escalates. He lets out a groan knowing it would take another twenty minutes for the medicine to set in, and even then he doesn’t know if it would work that well.

His breathing becomes heavy, gripping the right side of his head. He didn’t get migraines often, but when he did, oh boy were they raging. His eyes clamp down in an attempt to force sleep, but it only worsens the pain.

“Mgh.” He releases an incoherent moan, shifting from side to side. Harry knows he probably shouldn’t, but fuck it, you’re the only person he knows could help.

“Love,” He gently shakes. You grumble a bit as his swaying continues, his repeated pet names finally waking you.

“What? What is it, H?” You almost snap, slightly annoyed. 

“I-I-I’ve got a migraine.” He mutters in reply, guilt also setting in as he woke you with his own problems. 

“Oh.” You bite your lip, thankful that you did not utter any rude words. 

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up. You can go back to sleep-”

“No, no. Of course not. I’m glad you woke me up. Do you want me to get some more water or boil some? Have you taken meds for it?” 

His head nods, whining lowly at the sensation.

“ ‘m sorry,” Harry apologises again. “I really wouldn’t wake you unless it was bad and I’ve tried to go back to sleep but I just can’t and- and… it really fooking hurts.” 

You lean forward to lay a kiss on his forehead. “Don’t apologise for wanting help, my love.” You respond before exiting to make tea. The herbal ones always seemed to calm him.

Once back in the room, you frown at his exterior. His body is up against the headboard, arms crossed and trying to relax but it was only causing more of an ache.

You sigh, pulling him closer. He tries to relax in your grasp but cannot rattle the discomfort. Your fingers dig into his hair, gently massaging the tender areas.

“… and my pain will range from up, down and sideways, thank God it’s Friday cause Fridays…” You hum lowly, the TØP song sticking to your brain after Harry brought up the title.

“Don’t know why they, always seem so dismal. Thunderstorms, clouds, snow, and a slight drizzle…” 

“What’s the name of that song again, angel?” Harry interjects. 

“Migraine.” You chuckle, causing him to groan. 

“You don’t like the song?” 

“No, no. I do, it’s just… perhaps something a bit more mellow for the moment?” 

You nod, beginning a different song for your husband. Though everything still hurt, your repeated touch and sound eased his pain just a bit. 

“But ain’t nobody love you like I do…” 

You notice his breathing gradually calm as you sing softly. Another smile comes across his face, feeling incredibly thankful to have you around. Nothing and no one could ever make him feel as you do. 

“Promise that I will not take it personal-”

“-baby?” He completes the line, though his intonation hints that it is question rather than him singing. You pout, thinking you had upset him again by the choice of song. Happier had also been circling your thoughts and though it did not apply to either of you, it was still a fantastic song to sing.

“Yes, Haz?” 

“I’ve never been happier than when I’m with you.”

Room enough for two

This is based on a prompt that went through shittycarryonaus at some point I think? And people were saying they wanted to see it done but as far as I can tell nobody ever wrote it. AU where there is only one bed.

For @snowbaz-feda day 5.

SIMON:

It was fine in first year.

I mean, it was never really fine, Baz hated me from the moment we met, and now I was expected to spend the next eight years sharing a bed with him. Turns out there was a downside to having the biggest room in Mummers House, since it wasn’t originally supposed to be for students and apparently no-one had thought to bring in two separate beds, and no matter how much I bugged the Mage, it never seemed to get done. Eventually I just accepted it.

Anyway. It was fine in first year. We were eleven years old and it was a huge double bed. We’d curl up on opposite sides with our backs to each other, pretending the other one wasn’t there. Once we stopped fighting over it and Baz stopped trying to intimidate me into sleeping on the floor, it was easy enough to get used to it.

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3.5k words so look out for under the cut!


“I’m too old for this kidnapping bullshit,” Tony whispered, shivering, and tugged the collar of his shirt tighter around his neck in a futile attempt to block out the freezing rain. Forty-five years old and still being carted around like so much luggage. God.

He didn’t think about how glad he was that there was no sand, no heat, no bright lights in the dark. He didn’t think about how glad he was to break out of a building instead of a cave. He didn’t think about how no one had come for him, and what that meant for the monsters that had been screaming when he’d been taken.

The forest was cold, and as much as the conifers blocked the onslaught of rain, they did little to protect Tony from the rain dripping off the needles and onto him. He tucked himself in the lee of a larger tree, taking a few deep breaths, but it hurt—every gasp hurt. The metal casing was cold in his chest, making the skin around it burn and then spread out into a dull ache. His fingers were beginning to go numb.

He was going to die out here.

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anonymous asked:

andriel with "Are you fucking kidding me?” Or "everything's going to be fine" please ((ps your writing? Just ruin me you are so good!!))

thank you sweet pea! i chose the first one if that’s alright!

from this list


Andrew hated airports. That was a fact.

They were loud and crowded, full of screaming children and businessmen, two of Andrew’s worst nightmares

 But here he was, standing in baggage claim with his suitcase and hands itching for a cigarette. He idly scratched the tattoo at his wrist, looking around for a bundle of curly hair and processed sunshine.

 “Andrew!” There it was.

Nicky ran up to him with barely contained happiness stretching itself into a smile. “You made it! Neil’s going to be so excited!”

Andrew hoped so, or he’d have to explain to his coach why he took a week off near the end of the offseason, even though his team was supposed to be practicing. He was Exy’s greatest goalkeeper, but even the promise of that wasn’t enough to keep him away from his boyfriend.

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4

Moonlight

Pairings: Alpha!Werewolf!Sam x Omega!Werewolf!Reader

Word Count: 3500+

Summary: You’re a bonded pair with three children and all Sam can think about is having more.

My twist on a/b/o dynamics. There’s a little fluff in here too, I swear it.

Kink Prompts: Mating/Breeding & Were-animal sex

Warnings: Breastfeeding(non-sexual, baby related), knotting, dominance, claiming, fingering, oral, unprotected sex (obvi), biting, dirty talk, rough sex, some dom/sub overtones.

A/N: Written for @impalaimagining‘s Smut-entine’s Day Challenge


Sam comes home late, just after two in the morning, shutting the front door carefully, cautious of waking you or his children. He’s a sore, bleeding and a little drunk but it’s been a good night.

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Can I Be Her - Part 2

Request: Anonymous asked: Can I please get an imagine where the reader is best friends with Tom and Harrison but loves Tom. The reader is witnessing Tom fall in love with Zendaya and tries to forget about Tom but can’t. In the end, Tom ends up having a serious relationship with Zendaya and Tom and the reader fall apart. You can decide the end but I want it to be a sad ending. I’m sorry if it’s complicated or just plain stupid. Thank you.

Warnings: fluff, sad, happy ending

Word Count: 1,106

Pairing: Harrison Osterfield x Reader

A/N: Don’t hate me… lol. 

Part 1: Here  

(Alternate Ending Here!)

~Masterlist~


You didn’t know what to feel. You were numb all over. You got your answer, but it wasn’t what you had expected it to be. Tom choose Zendaya and that was final.

You and Tom lost what you thought was a never ending friendship. You lost touch over a years time. You completely isolated yourself. You didn’t want to let anyone in, afraid you’d feel that heart wrenching pain that Tom left you in. The only person that you could only let in was Harrison. At least he had the decency to mend your broken heart, while the rest of your friends encouraged Tom and Zendaya’s relationships, not bothering to check up on you to see if you were okay.

“You just going to stay there forever?” Harrison said at the edge of your bed.

“Until I die!” You voice was muffled under the comforter.

“Suit yourself” He rolled his eyes.

Harrison walked over to one side of the bed and yanked the blankets off you. He instantly covered his nose with the back of his hand looking down at your horrid state. “What died in here?!” He grimaced at the smell.

“My heart” You whined.

“You need to get over him Y/N. You can’t keep doing this to yourself!”.

You knew he had a point, but how could you get over the only person you loved.

“Come on then, lets get you in the shower”. 

Harrison picked you up like a baby and entered your connected bathroom. He told you to raise your arms to proceed taking off your shirt. “Turn around” He motioned. You slowly turned not caring if he was about to see you bare and naked. He felt him remove your bra slowly pushing in down your arms. Your bare back now facing him. “You can’t bottle this all up Y/N. You have to let me in at some point” He whispered in your ear. He continued taking your shorts and underwear off. He also removed his shirt and shorts leaving him in nothing but his boxers. 

He stepped in the tub sitting down before pulling you down on his lap. You sighed in relief at the feeling of the warm water. You nuzzled your head on top of Harrison shoulder.

“Thank you” You whispered closing your eyes.

“Your welcome darling” He kissed your hair.


You were finally able to pull yourself together with the help of Harrison. He was the only one who could bring back the old you. The only thing missing was to get his two best friends to make up. You still haven’t spoken to Tom, which Harrison kept trying to get you to contact him or just talk to him even if it was for a mere second.

“At least talk to him!”.

“Why? I have nothing to say to him!” You flailed your arms around.

“I can’t keep watching my two best friends fall apart over something so stupid!”.

You were taken back. That hurt way more than you thought. You stared at him in shock.

“You think my heart being broken is stupid…” You muttered.

“W-what no no no that’s not what I meant. Y/N your feelings are not stupid” He approached you quickly. He embraced you in his arms reassuring you.

“I just can’t face him right now Harrison. Please tell me you understand that”.

“I do. I get it okay. You just need time okay” He nodded.

“Yeah” You nodded as well.

“How about we go out to take your mind off this. You need it more than ever” He smiled at you.

“That sounds great actually” You breathed out.

Harrison took you around New York to your favorite pizza place, and your favorite park.

“It so peaceful” You breathed in the air watched all the people go beyond their days.

“It is isn’t it”.

“Harrison thank you for this” You turned to face him.

“It was nothing rea-”

“No not this. I mean thank you for being there for me. For getting me back to my feet” You smiled gratefully at him.

“I’d do anything for you” He shook his head.

“Come on now there’s still lots more to do” He held out his hand to which you took and stood up as well.

“Where are we going?” You laughed as he kept dragging your hand at a fast pace.

“Anywhere you want” He looked back at you smiling.

He continued guiding you out of the park passing New Yorkers who were in a rush. You both exited the gate proceeding to walk amongst the busy sidewalks. You were walking behind him as you past a magazine stand, when something caught your attention. “Harrison hold up” You tugged your arm back from his grip. He stopped too.

You approached the stand closer and picked up a magazine. On the front cover was Tom and Zendaya together, they truly looked happy together. Although that wasn’t enough to break your heart, it was the caption that was underneath their photo that did the trick.

Hollywood's young lovers Tom Holland and Zendaya soon to Mr and Mrs. Pg 9.

You stared at it with your mouth agape. You could feel a stream of tears about to emerge. 

“Y/N…” He spoke hesitantly.

“T-they’re…engaged?” You breathed out.

“I’m sorry Y/N”.

“Why didn’t he tell me?” You looked at him in disbelief.

“He was”.

“When!? Before or after their wedding?”.

“You have to let him go Y/N”.

“How do I do that!”.

“You find someone else”.

“Like who” You shook your head.

“Someone like me” He whispered.

“Harrison-”.

“No you just listen, okay? I love you Y/N L/N. You are the best thing I that has ever happened to me. And yes, I was somewhat hurt when you told me how you felt about Tom, but I love you. I can’t keep watching you tear yourself apart over someone who doesn’t deserve you. Tom doesn’t love you Y/N I do and I always have”. He finished with a sigh.

You stared at him in shock. How come you’ve never noticed it before. It was never Tom, it was Harrison all this time.

You took a step forward and cupped his cheeks pulling him down for a kiss. It was short but sweet.

“What would I do without you” You muttered. Your forehead touching his.

“I don’t know…but all I know is that were going to be okay. You’re going to be okay” He gave you one more tenderly kiss.

Hope you guys enjoyed this. Feed back is always welcomed. : )

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Pulse Part 11

Part 10

Genre: Fluffiest it’s gotten thus far (which probs doesn’t say much)
Words: 2,164
Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Warnings: Injuries
Summary: Soulmate AU in which one’s heartbeat becomes perfectly in sync with their soulmate’s once they meet.

Originally posted by coldrainy


One week. That was how long you had been held in the hospital before you had finally been able to go home- well, to Bucky’s home.

Thanks to the excessive amount of painkillers that had been pushed into your system, you had slept a lot, which had made the beginning of the week go much quicker than you had expected. It was a blessing, being able to clock out while the nurses had changed your dressings and checked your vitals.

Bucky had been in the same spot you had last seen him in when you had woken up on the fourth day since admission. In fact, he had been in the same spot everyday, even waiting in that chair as the nurses had taken you to an adjacent bathroom and given you a bath. It was weird to have had him stay there- not that you hadn’t liked his presence. You had just been waiting for his fiancée to barge in at any moment and question who the hell you were and why her future husband was tending to your every word and need.

You didn’t even think Bucky knew the answer to the last one.

He had acted like the two of you were different people. He had treated you how it would be expected to treat your soulmate, the love of your life. When you had shivered in your sleep, he had brought the blankets up around you instead of letting them rest by your waist. When you had showed the slightest sign of being in pain, he had immediately called to a nurse about the possibility of more painkillers. When you had gotten bored, Bucky had told you stories, or had propped his phone up for the two of you to watch a rented movie off of the little screen. When Wanda had come in to look at the progress in your injuries, he had held your hand the whole time, letting you squeeze it in moments of poking and prodding. He must have gone to shower and eat whenever you had drifted off, because it seemed as if he had been there every moment until you had been released.

After Wanda had helped you get dressed out of your hospital gown, Natasha having been kind enough to drop off some of your clothes, Bucky had helped you walk to a nearby wheelchair (hospital’s release policy) and stopped to go over your healing regimen once more with nurse Wanda. Then you had felt him behind you and the wheelchair start being pushed toward the parking lot.

Once you had gotten in the car and had watched as Bucky hopped into the driver’s side, you had realized that you were slightly nervous to be in a car again. The collision had been one of the most traumatizing things that had ever happened to you.

You had barely noticed when Bucky had reached over and buckled you up.

And then you had gotten on the road. Bucky had driven slow for you, maybe even below the speed limit, and you were sure he would never know how much that had actually meant to you. You had gotten to his house not long after that, parking on the street. Bucky had helped you out of the car, keeping his hand on your lower back as he supported you toward the sidewalk. You had gripped his shoulder with your right arm as you both had climbed the steps to his front door. And then you were inside.

You were in a place that was the closest thing you could call home at the moment, and the first step into the beautiful home made you grateful you were done with the one week in the same room smelling of antiseptic. One week, and now you were stuck with Bucky for one more.

He led you over to the closest sofa and helped you sit down gently, sitting back on his knees to take off your shoes. “Be careful with your side.”

You didn’t answer, instead using your energy to suppress rolling your eyes at his statement. You didn’t think you both could be any more careful.

“Do you want some water?” He spoke again, leaving you sitting on the leather as he walked into the kitchen.

“Sure.” Your voice was quiet, no doubt from how uncomfortable you were starting to become. This was his house; this was his fiancée’s house.

You could hear ice clink into a glass from the other room and then the faucet running. Then Bucky appeared, sitting down on the other side of the couch you were sitting on and handing you your glass.

“So, what do you want to do? I’ve got some movies we can watch or if you just want to relax, I have a lot of books- I could read to you if it would hurt your head with your concussion-”

“Bucky.” You cut him off. “I think I just want to shower and go to bed.”

One good thing about antibiotics and painkillers: you can blame your excessive sleeping on them.

“Oh,” his accepting voice overcompensated for the disappointment he tried (and failed) to hide. “Of course, you’re probably exhausted.”

You forced a smile to him, one that felt more like a grimace, and started to scoot toward the edge of the couch. Bucky was up on his feet in an instant, leaning down with a strong hand on your back and another holding your right hand to stabilize your balance.

He walked you to the bathroom, pausing only once the both of you have stepped inside to watch as you stepped out from his hold and turned to look at him expectantly.

He looked nervous- actually, he looked more than nervous. He looked terrified. You lifted your arms a little. “As much as I wish anyone else could help me at this moment, I don’t have much of an option, so come on.”

He swallowed hard, his movements hesitant as he reached out to help you out of the shirt you were in. He went for the buttons first, your wrist unable to bend to that angle in the bright cast it was being held tight in. His fingers were slow, and he was treating the shirt with as much delicacy as he was treating you with. The two of you were standing extremely close, and you had to force yourself to keep your eyes on his solid chest so you wouldn’t make eye contact in such a vulnerable moment.

Once the shirt was unbuttoned, he helped move it down your arms, carefully sliding it from around your cast, and tossed it to the floor without a second glance. No words were exchanged as he immediately looked at you, reaching for the band of your leggings. And the way he was looking at you- Oh, God, you wished you were dressed sexier. But you had just gotten out of the hospital and with limited options as to what wouldn’t irritate your injuries, you were out of luck.

You held onto his shoulder with your right hand as he slid the leggings down your legs and helped you step out of them. And then he was at his full height again, looking down into your eyes and searching. For what, you didn’t know, but you knew it was easy to get lost in his eyes, and it was exactly what you were doing. The blue of them pulled at the heart deep in your chest, acting as a string connecting the two of you together. You could feel the strain as your heart tried to get closer to him. You involuntarily moved toward him.

His fingers trailed along your sides, gently skimming the skin there before they rested with his thumbs against your ribs, lightly circling the harsh bruising that marked you. You held your breath.

His right hand rose and moved a piece of hair behind your ear. “You can’t get your cast wet.”

Your mouth felt dry as you scrambled to reply. “I know.”

Your right hand still rested on his shoulder. His right hand returned to it’s soothing place at your side. “Do you want me to help wash your hair? If not, you can kick me out right now.”

He was so beautiful, you didn’t think you had the strength while in his arms like this to kick him out. “You can help.”

His tired eyes skimmed your face once more, an action that made your knees weak, before he took a step back. He helped you into the tub in your sports bra and underwear, lowering you down slowly until you were able to sit comfortably. You jolted when the water turned on, cold before it turned warmer, and you caught Bucky chuckling at the reaction.

Your cast rested over the edge of the tub as Bucky filled a large cup with the hot water, slowly pouring it over your hair and making sure it all got wet. He followed the action with some shampoo, gently rubbing the soap into your hair without adding any pain to the already bruised area underneath.

“Does your head hurt at all?”

You shook your head, your eyes drooping at the relaxing feeling of someone else washing your hair.

“You promise? You have to be careful with your concussion.” You nod again, your eyes fluttering open as he rinsed your hair out. “Don’t fall asleep on me.”

“But I’m tired,” you whined.

“I know, I know.” He couldn’t fight his smile as he reached for the bar of soap. “Arms up and then we can get you to bed.”

You did as told, reaching up as he ran the soap over what your cast didn’t cover, your chest, and your abdomen, circling around any wounds as to not rub and irritate them, but letting the water mix with the soap as it ran over them to clean. Once you were all rinsed off, Bucky offered his hands to you, taking your right one in his, and supporting you as you stepped from the tub.

He wrapped a towel around you and used another to partially dry your hair. All the while making sure your cast stayed completely dry.

“I’ll go grab you some of your clothes to change into and your toothbrush and stuff. I’ll be right outside the door when you’re done.” He set the toothpaste out on the countertop, returning back only a minute later with your things, and then he was shutting the door.

It took longer than it should have to get completely ready for bed, and you blamed your cast for that. But once you were dressed, clean, and too tired to take another step, you headed out of the bathroom. Bucky was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, and waiting for you. Once you emerged, he took you to a bedroom at the end of the hall. 

It was big, and mostly neutral colored. The walls were a very light gray, paired with a white bedspread that covered a king sized bed. The floors were wooden, as was one of the walls on the other side of the room that had been converted into a bookshelf. There was a television on top of a dresser in front of the bed, but you looked almost completely past it, instead focusing on how soft the bedding actually looked.

“We have an extra room, but we haven’t actually gotten a bed for it yet. This house is newly bought…”

We.

Him and Samantha.

You nodded, not wanting to dwell on that while you had the opportunity to sleep right in front of you. He led you to the bed, pulling back the blankets and helping you get inside, before covering you back up. He looked like he wanted to say something as he stood over you, playing with your hair while he thought, but all he ended up with was: “ll wake you up when it’s time for more painkillers. Night, Fighter.”

And then he was leaving, flicking the light off as he went. He left the door cracked open so he could hear if you needed anything, but the room was otherwise silent and dark, with the exception of the patter of raindrops on the window.

You couldn’t see much in the room now, but it wouldn’t matter anyway, because the only image your brain was processing was the conflict you had seen many times in Bucky’s eyes just since you had gotten “home.”

It was almost impossible to know his thought process, so instead of torturing yourself with it, you accepted the kindness you were going to get from him, and forced yourself not to get your hopes up.

It was hard not to, though, as you fell asleep on what you knew was his side of the bed, surrounded in the smell of him. He wasn’t wrong in what he had told you at the hospital; you felt safe there.


Part 12

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