tongue weight

i know no one cares but i’ve just recently started stimming wholeheartedly after years of repressing it, even while alone, and it feels so good i could cry

anonymous asked:

Help me with this scenario I have in my head. You wake up and feel shawn's boner. What does he do/happens

Warning: Smut

You were brutally woken up, when you suddenly felt Shawn’s heavy weight on you, pressing you further into the matress. It took you a second or two to open your eyes, but when you did, Shawn’s lusting, dark once met you immediately.

He breathed heavily, before licking his pink lips, not removing his stare from you. You didn’t know why, but suddenly, you felt your cheeks heat up. 

“Morning love” he breathed, his voice sounded so dark.

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Words rolled off of his tongue like paper weights sinking in water. Full of pretension and arrogance, he never realized how little he truly knew. Because he is able to quote Shakespeare or point out Van Gogh’s Starry Night, people believed he actually had a clue. But he would have mistaken the stars for happiness when they were truly a metaphor for ones’ self destruction. Yellow paint was never intended to fill someone up with happiness, not even Van Gogh himself. He thought that love was poetry and bleeding hearts. Heartbreak. Pain. Unfortunately for you, you were his muse and his intentions were to show you the night sky, dressed in black and steal your heart from under you. Baby, he never wanted to love you back. He only wanted his words to be mistaken for yellow paint, and empty words won’t fill you with happiness.
—  He may have been a work of art, but that doesn’t make him beautiful.

skarpetkamroku  asked:

“Are you trying to seduce me?” for Fen x MHawke, pleeeeease?

“What are you doing?” Fenris asks with his arms crossed and his eyebrows raised. Hawke has hands at the straps of his armor, shedding heavy metal, letting it sink into the dirt. He gives a reckless grin as he stretches, one hand moving towards the branches of the tree.

“There’s an apple up there. A perfect looking one. You like apples.” His foot finds purchase in a knot, and he pushes himself upwards. His tunic hangs loose, the sleeves ripped off, Hawke winking down at Fenris as he flexes more than necessary to reach the next branch.

“Are you trying to seduce me?” Fenris asks with the slightest of smiles curling at the edges of his lips.

“Is it working?” Hawke asks with a childish grin.

“I will keep you informed,” Fenris says. He covers the smirk with his hand, watches as Hawke deftly climbs from branch to branch. The branches thin out, no longer steady under Hawke’s weight. Tongue between teeth, reaching as far as he can. Fingertips touch the smooth surface of an apple before Hawke hears the cracking sound. His stomach drops and there’s suddenly nothing solid under his feet. Great, is all he has time to think.

He groans as he lies on grass and dirt, trying to pretend like he doesn’t hear Fenris roaring with laughter. The elf is doubled over, hands around his belly, laughter carefree and delighted. “Don’t – don’t fucking laugh,” Hawke says, trying to stop his own chuckles as he pushes himself up from the ground. He sits up, rubbing his brow, grinning as he watches Fenris collapse to his knees.

“I-I’m sorry – are you – are you alright?” He’s gasping in air, a hand on Hawke’s shoulder, wiping tears from his eyes. With a flourish, he presents the apple.

“For you,” Hawke says. For some reason, that makes Fenris laugh even harder. Arms around his neck, head on Hawke’s shoulder, his entire body shakes with it. They lie back in the grass together, breathless and giddy. Fenris claims his prize, takes a bite. Hawke wraps a hand around his wrist, tugs his hand towards him so that he too may take a bite.

Fenris chuckles under his breath, leans over to kiss him. “If you wanted a taste, you only had to ask,” he says slyly. The grin bursts across Hawke’s face as he rolls over Fenris, trapping him beneath him, smothering him in kiss after kiss.


@dadrunkwriting

Essays in Existentialism: Purr

Can you write something along the lines of this tumblr post: ‘imagine clarke and lexa making out and getting really into it and lexa suddenly makes a little catching noise in the back of her throat and clarke is v. smug and starts grinning against lexa’s lips and lexa says “if u tell anyone i made that noise i will have u and them killed” and Clarke is all “i don’t doubt it for one second…kitten”’?

It wasn’t the candles, thought they didn’t hurt. For the life of her, Clarke could not grow accustomed to the flickering, the shade of the golden glow the produced, the way it was both bright and yet not enough at the same time. They made shadows on Lexa’s skin, made her eyes dilate and glow. It might have been the candles.

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stars

Read it here at AO3.


For @bloomsoftly , with the generous help and tips from @dresupi (who is now third best person in the universe, thank you so much!).
So honey, I hope you like it!


Souls were, all in all, a very colorful thing.

Everybody had one, regardless of belief. Everybody needed one, but they pretended they were a big affair.

To Darcy, who had been able to see souls since forever, they were nothing but colored dots floating inside of very cute packages, depending on the person they belonged to.

They were a trinket – if you will – to be observed and admired until otherwise needed, and that usually came after death.

And it was Truth.

So she wasn’t really prepared for the shiny golden aura surrounding Dr Jane Foster, astrophysicist.

It was blinding, overwhelming and beautiful; Darcy kinda wanted it.

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| Breathe | Alexander Hamilton

*A kind of sequel to ‘Yorktown’, though can be read separately.

Warnings: Mentions of blood; PTSD



You were drowning.

The feeling was all too familiar for you not to immediately know. Your throat was clogged with an invisible adversary, your sandpaper tongue a dead-weight at the bottom of your jaw as your every sense was filled to the brim. Heavy darkness pressed against your eyelids, seducing you with a firm hand to remain ignorant to whatever was happening around you, digging into your skull and rendering you helpless. 

It was squeezing something within you, squeezing a coil tight and keeping you there. You choked, but even that sounded as if it were being restrained. Your heart beat desperately, fluttering in and out in a way that you could feel it pounding away at your temples and pain racing through your chest. 

Boom - -

What was that? Why were your eyes closed?

BOOM! 

There it was again. You fought against the hold of the unknown, that cold skeletal touch of the grim reaper light against your cheek, as if to draw the very soul from your body. The coil tightened.

But you were not willing. N o t w-w i l l INg-

BOOOM!

Your eyes snapped open. 

Guns.

It all fell into place.

No no no

The collision of a grenade with the ground, unsuspecting soldiers realizing a second too late that their short lives were up. Your ears bleeding, not functioning properly as the noise rocked the very ground, cannons and shouts and gunfire and screams together at once creating a symphony of utter chaos.

People you’d met that day, shared food rations with, lying still in the rubble, almost unrecognizable in the dirt and grime. Corpses littering the battlefield as though mere flowers dotting a hill. 

The coil tightened even further.

“Y/N…”

And you realized what you were drowning in wasn’t water but your own blood and you couldn’t breathe-

And the coil snapped.

“Y/N…!”

Your hope s h a t t e r e d and you screamed but no one came-

“Y/N!”

Your eyes opened wide.

It was blurry, and it would be for the next couple seconds as you came in terms with reality from your subconscious, but you could recognize the blur of brown above you. Calloused hands gripping your shoulders and a frantic voice cutting through the static in your head like a butcher knife.

Five more blinks and the sleep was ripped from you and you were fully awake, gasping in ice cold breaths of air like you hadn’t in years.

The figure was not so a silhouette than a real person now, details spinning into your central vision as the frantic ramblings increased in pitch.

“Get off-!” You struggled, lashed out like a wild animal, fight or flee its you or them-

“Y/N! It’s Alexander!”

And you were hooked back to sanity. 

Alexander.

You narrowed your eyes through the wetness you hadn’t even realized was there, staring up at large eyes shining so intently in distress you momentarily forgot your own situation at hand. They were brown, so brown in fact they were hazel, a chocolate river sparkling into obscure depths. Chestnut waves alike fell over his face and waterfall-ed down onto his shoulders, curling at the edges as if deliberately hand woven silk. 

Alexander.

His name always did bring you back.

It was a reminder of who you were, a trigger almost, that wrenched endearment deep from your chest and an unending fountain of affection that warmed you to the very tips of your fingers.

You were roughly shaken again.

You zoned back in on him and left your thoughts to see that he was almost on the edge of insanity himself, face clouded over with an intense worry. You both held eye contact for a tense couple more seconds. And the only thing you could think of when your mind was removed from the fog was that you wanted him to stop looking so distraught.

“Alexander,” You breathed quietly, and yet it was like a shout in the silence. 

He relaxed.

You watched the rigidness dissipate from his posture above you, and his hold on your shoulders lessened. He didn’t remove them, but the touch was far more gentle.

“You frightened me,” He admitted through a hot sigh that brushed your neck. “You wouldn’t wake.”

“Alexander,” You repeated, taking him in. The wrinkle under his eyes that betrayed far too many smirks, the bruise on his left cheek when he got into a brawl in the tavern last week over an insensible match of wits. The scruff lining his jaw, peach fuzz defining his character as roughened by life’s storms and challenges. 

Then you saw him again, but this time there was red splattering his face and a hard set rage of a commander in his eyes.

You whimpered. “You-the battle- I-”

“The war is over, Y/N,” He brushed hair away from your face, the strands sticking to your forehead from sweat. You could see the corner of his lips twitch upwards consolingly in the golden flickering light of the candle by the window. “It has been for months. Years now.”

“But-”

“The war is over, Y/N,” He repeated firmly yet still tender, as if you were a piece of stained glass that would break before his very eyes if he were not careful. He cupped your face in his weathered hands, pressing closer so that your breaths mingled and his forehead was touching yours. “Breathe.”

Breathe.

And you did.

He helped you through it, and with every intake of air that bloated your lungs, you felt yourself calm. 

Alexander opened his eyes when he knew your tremors and shaking had subsided, and looked into your eyes.

You broke.

“Alexander,” You pressed your lips together, so that they formed a line, eyebrows furrowing together in grief as you closed your eyes. “I am so sorry-”

“For what?” He interrupted. You frowned, reopening your orbs to take in his nonchalant expression.

“For this!” You gritted your teeth. This was not the first time he had helped you out of a nightmare dream like this. In fact, you were now quite accustomed to waking up to him straddling your form, hips pressing yours down into the corn husk mattress, shaking you awake. “It has been many summers. I should be over this by now.”

“One doesn’t simply forget war, Y/N,” He rose an eyebrow, absentmindedly stroking the nape of your neck with his thumb. “It is not something easily ‘gotten over’.”

But you did, You wanted to say, knew you couldn’t, and never would.

 Alexander was not infallible. He was one hundred percent human, if not the oddest you had ever met, and he had his weak moments as well. It had certainly taken him a bit to fully come to grasps with what had happened those few weeks.

But then he just…bounced back. 

In no time he was writing again. (How can he write like he’s running out of time-?) In no time ink stained his fingers once more, and whole universes were being carved into existence from his words alone, imagination you could never even dream of having. In no time he was aiming higher and cutting down barriers to change the game, to build a nation. In no time he had regained his spirit, that unquenchable fire craving for more and better that burned everyone in his path and made him Alexander Hamilton.

While you remained.

Overwhelming depression crushed your soul once more and you wailed internally. You were done.

(Was it because you were a woman?)

You were done.

(Was there something wrong with you?)

You were done.

(Why were you so weak?)

You gurgled a sound of despair deep in your throat. You ached and you were ready to call it quits, to give up entirely, to just give in-

Alexander smiled, squeezing your hand.

And you remembered why you had gone on so long beforehand.

The Schuyler sisters that you were so close to could not help you. Sure they had gone through horrible things of their own, but they were generally kept safe during the war, and could not wish to relate as you had at all.

Sure there were other men who you had no doubt were going through what you were, but unless you wanted to explain what the hell a woman was doing cross-dressing as a man and in the war in the first place, there was no hope in that direction either.

But him. 

He knew, and he accepted. Sure he wasn’t happy about it, in fact he was furious (him pushing you against an alley wall in the middle of the celebration, fire in his eyes and his jaw clenched tight as he demanded what the hell was wrong with you-) but he had come to terms.

Alexander Hamilton had accepted you and now hovered protectively over your weak body, his eyes lidded slightly in an aftereffect of long nights, still almost asleep, squeezing your hand.

And you remembered again why you had fallen in love with this overly arrogant, strong willed, heart of gold, idiot of a man.

“Thank you,” You smiled, and it was the first real one you’d had in months.

He smirked cheekily, flicking your nose lightly before leaning closer to press a firm kiss to your mouth, nipping your bottom lip and making your head spin.

He hummed against your lips, fingers tracing invisible designs into your side with a tease. “You owe me another fresh set of quills.”

[MasterList]

Yknow I love conlangs (constructed languages) but I fucking hate myself because I always make languages for creatures with distinctly non-human mouths so I can’t fucking pronounce anything properly!!!!!!!!

Nebula: The Courtney chronical

A/N: The Year: 2004. The Place: Brisbane, Australia. Baby Courtney is 11 years old. And she has her first crush. And it is not going well…

(Special thanks to @samrull for providing the inspiration for Courtney’s obsessive desires.)

Written by @veronicasanders ❤️

***

Loving someone from afar was hard work. Ever since Isabelle’s family had moved in the summer before, Courtney had been praying, wishing, hoping against all hope that the older girl would notice her. Would talk to her. Would look in her direction for more than a passing, dismissive glance.

Courtney loved everything about her. From the red streaks in her platinum blonde hair, to her wide hazel eyes, to her sarcastic laugh, to the dimples that appeared in her cheeks when she flashed her crooked smile. She loved how Isabelle didn’t give a fuck what the “popular” kids did, but instead had her own style, her own interests, her own laissez-faire attitude. She kept a leather-bound journal and used to scribble in it angrily, glaring at people when they pissed her off. She told one particularly dickheaded boy in their neighborhood that she was a witch, after she saw him push his sister down a hill. Helping the girl up, she stared at him with daggers in her eyes, swearing to curse him for all eternity unless he apologized.

She was everything.

Of course, a girl like that - the epitome of cool, the queen of counter-culture - that girl had no use for Courtney. Who never spoke up, who never made trouble. Never stood out in any way. Courtney was everything Isabelle was not. Ordinary. Vanilla. Boring.

And then, one day, at the start of Summer holiday, a miracle happened. A bone-fide Christmas miracle. Courtney’s parents decided to take her brother to Sydney to look at colleges (as if Ben was going to college. Courtney’s parents meant well, but they were a little slow on the uptake sometimes), and voila! Suddenly she was staying with Isabelle’s family. Sleeping on a twin bed in her room. For five. Whole. Days.

***

“I hate ALL my clothes!” Isabelle moaned, tossing yet another outfit dramatically to the ground. “I have literally NOTHING to WEAR! This fuckin’ SUCKS!”

Courtney bit her lip. She wanted to offer a solution, but wasn’t 100% sure how a drag closet would be received. “Um…we could go to my house. Ben has some pretty cool shit.”

“Boy clothes?” Isabelle looked skeptical.

“Well…not exactly.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s sort of hard to explain.”

Isabelle narrowed her eyes and sighed, exasperated. “Alright, Miss Mysterious. Let’s go.”

Butterflies filled Courtney’s stomach as they walked outside, through the garden, across the narrow creek, up the hill to Courtney’s house. Courtney led her up the steps to Ben’s room, where giant, dramatic black letters warned them to “KEEP OUT OR SUFFER THE DIRE CONSEQUENCES!!!!!!!!” She pushed open the door, feeling more nervous about Isabelle in her house then invading her brother’s sacred personal space.

She slid open the mirrored closet door, revealing the two-third’s of the closet where Ben kept all of his drag stuff. Sequins and feathers and lace…fringe and sparkles and pleather and fishnets. Rows of heels on the floor below the clothes, and stacks of wigs and boxes of jewelry on the shelves above, along with his extensive makeup collection.

Isabelle’s eyes practically bugged out of her head. “This is your BROTHER’S stuff?”

“Yeah.”

“So…your brother is gay?”

“Um…yeah.”

Isabelle considered this for a moment, and then nodded approvingly. “That’s cool as.”

Courtney felt a sense of relief wash over her, pride replacing her edgy nerves. “He does my makeup and stuff all the time.”

“Really?! You’re sooo lucky. All my brother cares about is surfing and his dumb motorbike.”

Courtney gestured grandly to the closet. “Well…you can try some of his stuff on if you want.”

Soon enough, they’d both concocted entirely new ensembles. Isabelle in a shiny copper halter top and houndstooth shorts, and Courtney in the more ridiculous outfit that Isabelle had insisted on: a padded, sequined bra and pleather mini-skirt with a fringed bolero jacket. After Isabelle used Ben’s prized palette to add some color to Courtney’s face, all that was left was loading themselves up with every piece of jewelry Ben owned, before collapsing, giggling, onto his bed.

Isabelle gazed around the room at all the pictures on Ben’s walls. She smiled appreciatively at his Moulin Rouge poster, and then her eyes lit up at the shrine to Robbie Williams over his desk.

“Your brother has good taste. I’d give anything to pash Ewan. Or Robbie.”

Courtney nodded in agreement, though she wasn’t sure she saw the allure, exactly. Although she had to admit that Ewan was at least relatively cute, compared to most boys she knew.

“You ever pashed anyone, Courtney?” Isabelle had a slightly teasing lilt to her voice. As if she already knew the answer.

Courtney bristled a little. She was determined not be seen as a baby. “Yes,” she lied.

Isabelle raised an eyebrow. “Really? Who?”

Thinking quickly, Courtney answered, “Greg.” The tall, soft-spoken boy on her cheer team was always nice to Courtney, and he was clean and didn’t smell nearly as bad as most of the other boys in her class. If she was gonna have to pash any boy, it may as well have been him.

Isabelle burst out laughing. “You sure love the homos, Court. Greg is gay as mardi gras.”

Courtney felt her cheeks heat up. She cleared her throat, racking her brain to try and divert the attention away from herself. “Have…have you pashed anyone?”

“Nope!” Isabelle said. “I want my first time to be magical. Like in the movies. My friends think I’m weird but I don’t care.”

“I…I don’t think that’s weird.” Courtney suddenly wished she hadn’t lied. “I think it’s cool.”

“Yeah, well. I’m not just leaving it up to fate, though. I practice a lot.”

“How do you practice?”

“Like…you know…on your hand, or a pillow, or…you know, with your friends.”

“Your friends?”

Isabelle flashed a crooked smile, revealing those dimples that Courtney wanted to reach out and touch. It took all her strength to keep her hands to herself. “You know…like…girls don’t count. That’s just like, so you can get good at it for when it’s time to kiss a boy. Like, for real.”

Courtney’s palms began to get sweaty, and her mouth was dry as chalk. She swallowed.

“Of course, you don’t need practice, since you’re already an expert. You and Greeeeg.” Isabelle winked and Courtney thought she might die of embarrassment.

“I…may have lied about that,” she whispered.

“No shit,” Isabelle replied, hazel eyes glittering with delight.

Courtney focused away from her eyes, on her shoulders, tanned a deep caramel from the summer sun, such an enticing color that Courtney had a desire to lick her. She heard rustling and felt Isabelle moving closer to her on the bed. She looked up, saw her plush, round, plum-colored lips. She wondered if they would taste like the watermelon candy they’d eaten earlier.

“Do you want me to show you?” Isabelle asked, one finger just barely touching her chin.

Courtney prayed that she didn’t appear overly enthusiastic when she nodded, closing her eyes. And then Isabelle’s soft, moist lips were on hers, and her fingertips itched, tentatively reaching out to graze her bare midriff, circling her waist, just as Isabelle lifted her head.

“Okay, now, remember, I’m the boy,” Isabelle reminded her, rolling Courtney onto her back. “So you need to follow my lead. This time, you gotta open your mouth.”

Courtney nodded, glassy-eyed. At that point she would’ve followed her off a cliff. Her lips parted eagerly and Isabelle slipped her tongue inside, shifting the weight of her body so that she was pressing Courtney down into the mattress.

Hands cupping Courtney’s face, Isabelle murmured soft instructions to her. “Rub your tongue against mine…suck on my bottom lip…squeeze my butt…” Courtney tried to hear and follow as she floated through the clouds, ecstatic and breathless by the sheer proximity of their bodies, bare skin of their bellies pressed together, the scent of her strawberry shampoo.

Skin flushed and burning, Courtney arched her body up, rolling her hips, lifting her knees, rubbing against the older girl, in a state of utter lust, until she was slammed back into reality by the sound of laughter, Isabelle rolling away. “Damn, Courtney. You’re a little nympho, aren’t you?”

Courtney raised herself onto her elbows, panting, hair falling into her eyes. She tried to catch her breath, watching Isabelle straighten her top and fix her lipstick, at a loss for words.

“It’s cool if I borrow these clothes, right? I’m meeting Megan and Zoe at the mall.”

“Y-yeah. It’s cool.”

“Great. See you later!”

***

By dinnertime, Courtney was still too embarrassed to join the family. She told Mrs. Peterson that she had a stomachache. Did Isabelle think she was…what did Isabelle think?

It turned out that her fears were for naught. Isabelle didn’t seem to think anything at all about her. She spent the next few days out with her friends, mostly, and when Courtney’s mom came to pick her up that Saturday, she merely gave her a casual wave and a “see you around,” barely looking up from the fashion magazine in her lap.

They didn’t see each other much over the next school year, either, since Isabelle was in the High School and Courtney was still in Primary. It was probably for the best when her family moved again the following summer. After seeing her boyfriend dropping her off a few times, Courtney knew that there would be no more “practicing” required, and she couldn’t bear those knowing smirks Isabelle would toss her way on the rare occasion she actually acknowledged her existence. Like she KNEW something.

She didn’t know anything.

With Isabelle gone, it was much easier for Courtney to paint on a smile and be the perfect daughter, the perfect student, the little angel that everyone wanted her to be. And over the next few years, the sharp pain Courtney felt every time she thought about the older girl faded into a dull ache, a small, insignificant scar on her psyche that she barely remembered, a part of who she was without ever thinking about it.

Although occasionally, the kissing lessons did come in handy.

2PM Jun.K 'Overflow'

@simplemente-yo-ok​ asked: Hi~ I want to ask you ^^ If you could do a drabble expansion for vacation with 2PM of Jun.k, you know ;) these days he has been hotter than july 🎶 wifi, wifi I mean 🎶 on fire, on fire 🎶 hahahaha :D I would greatly appreciate it, by the way I just read Slow Burn of Jaejoong and it’s great, your written is always on-point 👍👍 I really enjoy it!! Thanks

anonymous asked: hey, its me again can I have some jun k vacation drabbld extension please? if requests are open, if not then just ignore this lol :)

@monstamonbe​ asked: Hi can i request a drabble expansion of taec and jun.k vacation together? Where in jun.k’s is very sxual and hot, and also for taec? Or u could make however u want, but i hoped for the hot one *wink wink I love you

A/N: Seriously you guys are adorable! Well I went for slightly smutty? I’m a fan of less is more unless I’m really inspired, lol. I hope you guys like it! <3<3<3 WARNING: Mild Smut

This is a drabble expansion of a reaction I wrote here.

Even though you’d been with him for a couple years, Minjun never failed to keep things interesting. Due to his idol status you had to keep your relationship lowkey, so you were used to meeting secretly. But this was new. You’d never been excluded from those plans yourself before.

Apparently Minjun was letting his mischievous side out to play. Other than a few mysterious texts about clearing your schedule the next day or two, a plane ticket for Jeju Island, an address and what you assumed to be a room number, he wouldn’t tell you what he was up to.

As the taxi pulled up in front of the hotel, you were a little taken aback by its grandeur. After checking and rechecking with the driver that this definitely was the place, you shook your head and mentally chastised your lover for spending so much. Many times you’d told him you didn’t need to be spoiled, you just needed him. But he was generous to a fault.    

The lobby was mirrored, trimmed in faux gold leafing, and dominated by a massive chandelier. Biting down on a smile you had to chuckle at the gaudy décor that only the truly expensive hotels could pull off. A master at looking like you knew what you were doing you bypassed the front desk and headed up to the room your boyfriend had indicated.

To your surprise he answered the door clad only in a robe. You’d thought perhaps he wanted to go sightseeing but it appeared he had other things on his mind. “Hello, gorgeous.”

“Flatterer.”

He backed up enough for you to enter and then used his body to press you against the wall for a kiss, letting the door fall shut. “Is it flattery if it’s true?” Lightly he began trailing kisses along your jaw up to your ear where he whispered, “Missed you.”

“Missed you too, love,” you hummed.

Taking both of your hands in his he walked backwards as he led you into the main area of the room. “What do you think?”

“It’s beautiful, but it’s too expensive.”

Dismissively he waved a hand and made his way over to a small table arranged with champagne and strawberries. “I always wanted to try this.” For a moment his suave affectation lifted and you saw the excited gleam in his eyes he’d get when feeling particularly playful. “Now that schedules are done for solo and group promotions I wanted to focus on you. And one more thing.” Holding up his phone you watched as he powered it down and tossed it on a nearby chair.

Which turned out to be the only thing that shocked you. “Really? You’re turning your phone off?”

“You’re the only thing I want turned on in here.”

Caught off guard you snorted a laugh. “You didn’t just say that. Oh my god, Minjun.”

Obviously he was in a good mood and couldn’t care less if he was being cheesy. Lifting you easily, your legs wrapped around his waist. Kissing your neck he walked to the bed only to tumble down with you. The bedding was so plush and luxurious it felt like you’d fallen into heaven.

And heaven is where he took you. Over and over again. Linear thought broke down and memories became snippets of sensations. Bitter taste of him on your tongue. The weight of his sweat slicked body on yours. His deep groans tangling with your breathy sighs. Each egging the other on and building to a frenzy. Denying you until you writhed in exquisite torture, begging for more of him because you could never have enough.

Later with sheets and bodies and souls intertwined you finally remembered the now lukewarm champagne and berries that remained untouched. Hazily nodding your head in the direction of the table you mumbled, “We forgot.”

“S’okay. We can chill it again. Feeling sleepy?”

“Yeah.”

Tenderly kissing your forehead he bid you to rest while he put things in the mini fridge. Exhausted your mind slipped away from your surroundings only to wake to Minjun scribbling away in a notebook.

“I thought you said no work,” you grumbled.

Seeing you were up he smiled broadly, “It’s not work. I just can’t keep it all in. Ready for more or do you want room service first?”

“You, then room service, then you.”

Abandoning his notes he slowly moved towards you with a predatory grin. “I think I can handle that." ​

Say It Slower

Summary: You help Sam relax after a pointless hunt.

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Wordcount: 1.8k

Warnings: Smut. All the smut. Oh and there’s the tiniest hint of anal play, it’s in there for all of about 2 seconds, so don’t let that put you off!

A/N: Seriously this is 1800 words of pure filth. Entirely smut. Nothing but smut. Yes, smut is my game at the moment, but fuck me. I broke my brain writing this. Requested by @lipstickandwhiskey (and thanks for the beta, babe). And when i say requested, this is the result of us over-analyzing a lot of beautiful Sam gifs amid her amazing Sam!Crisis. Let me know what you think!

Originally posted by samwinchesterappreciation


Research for this hunt was going nowhere. You and Sam were holed up in some cheap motel in the middle of Alabama and the case was almost definitely a dead end. Sam was still digging though. The stress was evident in his tense shoulders. The shoulders that were covered by a perfectly tailored white button-down at that moment. With a stress relieving plan in mind, you excused yourself and made your way to the bathroom with your duffel.

When you silently emerged, Sam was still where you left him, sitting on on the bed, eyes glued to the screen of his computer, occasionally sipping from a bottle of whiskey. Leaning against the doorframe, you tapped your nails against the bathroom door, finally drawing Sam’s attention away from his screen.

Keep reading

Somewhat Damaged (Halloween Special)

Starring: Jun, Krystal, Sana, and Mingming. (Brief appearance by Mingyu.) 

Summary: A perfect nightmare starring the perfect monster. Except, this time, the monster was you. Angst/Horror. 

(credit for the cover goes to @the-shinee-knight

(A/N: so the title comes from a Nine Inch Nails song of the same name. i first heard the song when listening to the walking dead and ever since i have not been able to dissociate with monsters/spooky things. and thus it became the perfect tie in for a Halloween story. credit for the cover goes to Jaycen, my amazing boyfriend, i asked him to do one because i lost mine and i didn’t have time to do another one and he did an amazing job. now this isn’t all of this scenario, as i said before, but i figured some is better than nothing, like with the Jeongcheol threesome. i struggled and went late nights without sleep trying to get this done. so i hope you enjoy what’s here, and i really hope you enjoy the ending when it’s posted. now finally with ending! i worked so hard on this. so much of my blood is in this. please please please please read and enjoy it. warnings for: blood, gore, mild sexuality, extreme violence, a lot of sensitive material that could be triggering. -Tanisha<3)

Your mind was hazy. You couldn’t remember how you got here; you couldn’t remember what you were doing.

There was a thick layer of fog, almost like smoke, floating along the ground. It completely engulfed the grass, making any trace of green unrecognizable underneath. Thick whips of it curled and dipped into the graves as it moved, curving around the headstones in perfect, ominous fashion. All the writing was faded, the stone worn from time and chipped away, making it unreadable and giving you no clues as to the souls these graves held. There were nameless crosses and even an angel off in the distance, crouched on her knees with her hands folded together in prayer, and, you noticed in horror, headless.

Keep reading

4

two blueberries and a cherry tomato

sans wants his AU counterparts to embrace their skelly bellies

my hand slipped. three times.

see i said i can draw traditional

although i’m tempted once i get my stylus back to color the outline of this on the computer

Jeon Jungkook ~ Please me [SMUT]

Group: BTS
Member: Jeon Jungkook
Type: Smut [Contains roughness?]
Word Count: 1740


His fingers slowly make their way down my neck, his nails grazing my skin as he goes. The clock ticking above the door the only clear noise you hear. Your heart races rapidly, making you think it’s about to burst. His lips turn into a sexy smile as he looks at you, his thumb lifting your chin. ‘It’s funny how you think you can play with me so easily and get away with it.’ He whispers, giggling lightly as his words come out. He wraps his arms around your back and pushes you closer to him, his strawberry lips only a hairs breadth away from yours. You part your lips, your breathing quickening as he licks along your bottom lip, making you moan in arousal. ‘I’ll show you how much it can hurt to disobey me, kitten.’


He forcefully pushes you back inside the room, making you fall to the wooden floor. A quite groan escaped your lips as the pain shoots through your entire body. Jungkook slams the door shut behind him, chuckling at you before twisting the key in the lock. He slowly walks over to you. Your eyes wander from his black shining boots over the black suit you bought him for his birthday and meet his. You gulp as he smirks down at you, the pain deep inside you replaced by arousal. His eyes are glistening with anger, his pupils’ dark as the night. His fingers slide underneath the straps of your black cocktail dress and pulls you up with all his strength, the veins on his arms popping up.
He walks closer, untying his tie as he goes, pushing you against the wall. His hands land on either side of your slim body. ‘Did it hurt?’ He said and runs his thumb over your lips. You breathe against it as you nod, the pain still vivid in your mind. Suddenly he takes his thumb away and gently slaps your cheek. ‘Good.’ He says, winking at you. He takes a step back and unbuttons his shirt slowly for your entertainment. It lands somewhere to your right, along with his blue tie and jeans.
He pulls you away from the wall and slams your body against the desk in the middle of the room. He hectically kisses up your neck, sucking marks into the skin above your collarbone along the way.
His lips lock with yours, pulling you into a heated kiss. His hand trails under your dress, cupping your butt cheeks as he presses you further into the desk. You moan at both the pleasure from his hand massaging your cheeks and the pain of him pushing you into the wooden desk with all his weight. His tongue enters your mouth, battling yours for dominance. He explores your entrance, your teeth collide as he pulls you closer to his body. He squeezes your cheeks apart, earning a satisfying moan from you.


His fingers slowly make their way down your neck, his nails grazing your skin as he goes. The clock ticking the only clear noise you hear. Your heart races rapidly, making you think it’s about to burst. His lips turn into a sexy smile as he looks at you, his thumb lifting your chin. ‘It’s funny how you think you can play with me so easily and get away with it.’ He whispers, giggling lightly as his words come out. He wraps his arms around your back and pushes you closer to him, his strawberry lips only a hairs breadth away from yours. You part your lips, your breathing quickening as he licks along your bottom lip, making you moan in arousal. ‘I’ll show you how much it can hurt to disobey me, kitten.’
You moan at his words, your panties dripping with arousal. His hand moves from your butt to the front, ghosting over your lazed underwear.
‘Tell me, what am I going to find if I keep going?’ His fingers inch closer to your core. Your heart races. ‘Are you damp,’ He furthers another inch up your thigh, ‘wet,’ he smiles wickedly and you gush from the inside out. ‘Or will you be drenched, kitten?’


Without warning he slides a finger along your clothed folds, your body trembling under his touch. He traps your body in between the furniture and his as he slides your panties aside to feel your wetness.
‘So wet from such little touch.’ He says as he pulls his fingers away, leaving you feeling empty. You bit down on your lower lip as you watch him wrap his arms around your back. The sound of your zipper being pulled down rings through your ear. He pulls down the straps laying on your shoulders and lets your dress pool around your ankles. When you want to step out of it, Jungkook digs his nails into your thighs, making you still your moves. He moves closer to your ear, his breath hitting your skin. ‘Let’s ruin your dress, kitten. It’s part of the punishment.’ He whispers into your ear before kissing your earlobe, making your body shiver. He places his fingers in between your thighs, his thumb rubbing up and down as he tilts his head to the side and places harsh, painful kisses in between your breasts. He rubs his finger along your folds, collecting your juices before easing it inside of your entrance. You moan at the feeling, your head dropping against his shoulder as the pleasure overtakes you. He slowly pushes his finger deeper inside of you. Pumping out of you slow enough to hear you squirt from the pleasure. He adds another finger, angling upwards to hit the right spot. Your knees become weaker with each thrust, your fingers digging into his broad shoulders for support.
‘Please…daddy. Fuck me.’ You beg in between moans. Suddenly his thrusts come to a hold, he quickly pulls his fingers out of you. He breathes heavily against your skin, slowly lifting his head to look at you through his black bangs. He bites down on his lip, his eyebrows furrowed as he pulls away from you completely. His fingers run through his hair, pushing it back.


Before you can react, his hands wrap around your neck, chocking you lightly as he looks at you with his dark, angry eyes. ‘It’s not daddy…’ He whispers through gritted teeth, his eyes fixed on yours. ‘Nor baby and when my hands are in between your legs, it’s not ‘Oh God’ either.’ You feel his grip around your neck tightening. The heat raises to your cheeks. You lightly panic but his arousing dark expression, makes you feel so much more attracted to him. ‘It’s Jungkook. My name is Jungkook and next time you address me, you had better use it. If you don’t, I’ll swear, I’ll bend you over my knee and give you that hurt between your legs a real good reason to ache.’
His grip around your neck loosens and you drop back to your feet, panting heavily. He grabs your ponytail and pulls your head up. His eyes lock with yours as a tear escapes from your lips. Jungkook smirks as he wipes it away with the back of his thumb. The gentleness you think appears on his face by the sight of you crying is quickly replaced by a devilish smirk tugging on the edge of his lips.
‘Maybe next time, you shouldn’t have obeyed.’
He lets go off you and tugs down his jeans along with his white Calvin’s. His half-hard cock giving you a pleasing sight. You silently moan at his pulsing shaft, the pain long forgotten.
He places another harsh kiss on your lips, the taste of medal floating your mouth. He bites down on your bruised lip, making you moan into his mouth.
He pumps himself a few times before placing himself in front of your aching core. ‘Please Jungkook…’ You moan out. He teasingly slides it along your folds, coating his shaft with your juices as lubricant. A heavy groan escapes from his lips. He grabs both your hands with one of his and places them above your head.
‘I want to fuck you. Hurt you. Take you in every way possible until you can’t walk straight anymore. I want to mark your pretty skin and make you scream as I dive deep into your pussy and make you come all over me. I want you to know what it feels like when you disobey to someone like me, kitten. I want you to always think about the punishment when you do it again.’

Without warning, he pushes inside of you. You arch your back at the sudden feeling of being filled up by his perfectly sized cock. He doesn’t give you time to adjust and starts to relentlessly pound into you, his cock hitting you at a perfect angle. His grip around your hands tightens as his thrusts become more rhythmically. ‘Jungkook…’ You moan out, squeezing your eyes shut at the feeling. Your back is being pushed into the desk with each thrusts, covering it in blue marks.
The pain of him hitting you without mercy causes tears to escape your eyes. Jungkook’s chuckle makes you look at him. His devilish smile making you realize that it was his intend from the beginning. His hips slap against yours with each thrust, the sound adding to the feeling.
‘Jungkook…I’m close.’ You murmur, tilting your head back. His free hand moves up to your breast, massaging it as he watches the other bounce up and down with each thrust. He locks his lips with yours, devouring you in a more passionate kiss.
You feel your core tightening as the orgasm rips through your body. You cum with screaming out his name. Jungkook’s thrust become sloppier, hitting your g-spot even better as he rides out your orgasm. You breathe heavily as Jungkook hits his own orgasms, releasing his seeds into you.

He pulls out of you immediately and places a gentle kiss on your forehead. ‘Did you learn your lesson, kitten?’ He asks gently, the anger disappearing from his face. You nod, holding onto his shoulders for support. He quickly helps you back into your dress before taking your hand into his and exiting the room together.
‘What did you do in there?’ Jungkook’s eyes wander up quickly to meet Jin’s terrified expression. He grips your hand tighter, grinning at the older hyung. ‘We had something to discuss.’

What Lies in Wonderland // BTS’ Jin

The story of the Jabberwocky that was never told.

Jin // Jungkook


“The trial is set for tomorrow.” Particles of moonlight drifted in through the window, reflecting rather poorly around the tiny room that comprised the prison cell. But even with the shadows and intangible lighting it wasn’t difficult to read your face. Your eyes were red and your cheeks, streaked with grimy tears and the dust of the cell room. An unfamiliar, unsettling sight. In all of the twenty odd years that he had known you, Jin could not recall a single time when he had seen you in such a state of disarray. “The entire jury will be there, I think. And the Queen herself will be present.”

“As will I,” Jin said lowly. He watched as you took in a deep breath before giving him a little smile. A brave attempt, but one that did nothing to hide the quiver of your lips.

“Perhaps they’ll change their minds. The Queen may call off the execution.”

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2

“(Y/N), come on, we’re going out, Sam’s waiting in the car; it’s free pie night at the diner in town.” The motel door opened and Dean strolled in, twirling his car keys around his index finger. In a swift motion he tossed his jacket over his shoulder, his childlike excitement radiating throughout the room.

Normally this side of Dean would have brought a smile to your face. But tonight you were drowning in your sadness.

Before he had the chance to notice your swollen eyes, you averted your gaze to the floral pattern of the motel sheets. He didn’t need to be wrapped up in your drama. There were more important things to worry about than your broken heart. “I’m actually gonna stay in tonight, look more into the case.” Yeah, more like pointlessly cry myself to sleep over an asshat.

“Oh no you’re not. The only thing supernatural we’re dealing with tonight is how much pie my gut can hold,” He paused, and you could feel the intensity of his eyes boring into the side of your skull. You shifted, growing uncomfortable in the silence that filled the room. “What’s wrong?” The question acted  like a boa constrictor wrapping itself around your heart.

“I’m exhausted.” It was a terrible lie that he saw right through, and you knew it.Taking your fingertips, you began to trace the patterns beneath you. The truth was, you were embarrassed on top of being emotionally damaged; one package that no one wanted to open.

“Hey,” The nearing sound of Dean’s boots against the hardwood flooring made your heart rate spike. “(Y/N),” From the corner of your eye you could see Dean’s figure with his muscular arms crossed over his chest standing in front of the bed. You refused to meet his gaze out of fear of breaking in front of him.

Dean brought his index finger beneath your chin, tilting it upwards, allowing him to see your face. His brows were knitted together, concern plastered across his face, “Talk to me.” Tears brimmed your eyes.

“Am I not good enough?” You croaked, and a few tears spilled over. Your puffy eyes traveled away from him, not wanting to see the pity riddled across his face. Dean slowly lowered himself onto the mattress, causing you to sink further down from his weight.

Your tongue darted out to wet your lips, while wiping away stray tears with the end of your sleeve. “What do you mean? Is this about that punk back in Kansas?” You closed your eyes, letting more tears trail down your wet cheeks, and nodded. The silence that followed was painful, making your thoughts go into overdrive mode.

Does he think I’m pathetic?

Is he laughing at me?

Am I weak now to him because I’m crying over (EX/BF/N)?

Dean reached his hand out and caressed your cheek, brushing away the tears as they fell, “Listen to me, alright? I don’t do the whole touchy-feely crap with just anyone, so pay real close attention, capeesh?” You silently agreed with a nod.

Your eyes met, and he studied you, drinking you in, even in your wretched state. “You are more than good enough, (Y/N). You’re up so high in the league, that I can’t even reach you. And let me tell you, some punk kid from a small town in Kansas that’s afraid of his own shadow, ain’t gonna be the guy you end up with,” His eyes lingered on your lips before locking back with your own, “You’re the total package alright? It’s his loss, and your gain, because sweetheart you are so much better off without him. 

For a moment, you swore Dean Winchester was going to kiss you. And for a moment, you were disappointed he hadn’t. “Now, let’s go get some pie before some dick Guy Fieri wannabe eats it all.”