why did i laugh so hard at my own stupid face

A white guy’s thoughts on “Get Out” and racism

This weekend, I went to see a horror movie. It got stuck in my head, and now I can’t stop thinking about it—but not for any of the reasons you might think.

The movie was Jordan Peele’s new hit Get Out, which has gotten rave reviews from critics—an incredible 99% on Rotten Tomatoes—and has a lot of people talking about its themes.

First of all, I should tell you that I hate horror movies. As a general rule, I stay far, far away from them, but after everything I’d read, I felt like this was an important film for me to see. This trailer might give you some inkling as to why:

Creepy, huh? You might know writer/director Jordan Peele as part of the comedy duo Key & Peele, known for smartly tackling societal issues through sketch comedy. Get Out is a horror movie, but it’s also a film about race in America, and it’s impressively multilayered.

I left the theater feeling deeply disturbed but glad this movie was made. I can’t say any more without revealing spoilers, so if you haven’t seen the movie yet and you don’t want to have the plot spoiled for you, stop reading now and come back later.

Seriously, this is your last chance before I give away what happens.

Okay, you were warned. Here we go.

Our protagonist is Chris Washington, a young black man who has been dating Rose Armitage, a young white woman, for the last four months. She wants him to meet her family, but he’s hesitant. She acknowledges that her dad can be a little awkward on the subject of race, but assures Chris that he means well.

After unnerving encounters with a deer (echoes of The Invitation) and a racist cop, Chris and Rose arrive at the Armitages’ estate. On the surface, the Armitages are very friendly, but the conversation (brilliantly scripted by Peele) includes a lot of the little, everyday, get-under-your-skin moments of racism that people of color have to contend with: Rose’s dad going on about how he voted for Obama, for instance, and asking how long “this thang” has been going on. Chris laughs it off to be polite, though he clearly feels uncomfortable.

There’s a fantastic moment here, by the way, when Rose’s dad offhandedly mentions that they had to close off the basement because of “black mold.” In the midst of the racially charged atmosphere of the conversation, it’s nearly impossible not to take this as a racial remark, and Chris certainly notices, but what could he possibly say about it? Black mold is a real thing; his girlfriend would surely think he was crazy and oversensitive if he said it sounded racist. Chris never reacts to the remark, but that one tiny moment is a reminder to the audience of a real problem people of color often face, when racism can’t be called out without being accused of “playing the race card” or seeing things that aren’t there. (Incidentally, it turns out that the basement is actually used for molding of a different sort.)

There are other reasons for Chris to be unsettled: The only other black people on the estate are two servants, Georgina and Walter (Rose’s dad says he knows how bad it looks, but that it’s not what it seems), and something is clearly “off” about them. Later, more white people show up—and one more black character, and he, too, feels “off.”

By the end of the film, we learn the horrible secret: Rose’s family is kidnapping and luring black people to their estate, where they’re being hypnotized and psychologically trapped inside themselves—Rose’s mom calls it “the sunken place”—so that old or disabled white people’s consciousnesses can be transplanted into their bodies. The white people are then able to move about, controlling their new black bodies, with the black person’s consciousness along for the ride as a mere “passenger.” In a shocking twist, it turns out that even apparently-sweet Rose is in on the plot, and Chris must fight her and the rest of her family to escape.

This isn’t a “white people are evil” film, although it may sound that way at first, but it is a film about racism. I know many of my friends of color will connect with this movie in a way I can’t, so I won’t try to say what I think they’ll get out of it. I do want to say how I connected with it, though, because I think what Jordan Peele has done here is really important for white audiences. 

If you look beyond the surface horror-movie plot, this film actually gives white people a tiny peek at the reality of racism—not the epithet-shouting neo-Nazi kind of racism that white people normally imagine when we hear “racism,” but the “Oh it’s so nice to meet you; I voted for Obama” kind of racism, the subtle othering that expects people of color to smile and get along and adopt white culture as their own whenever they’re around white people.

So many of the moments in Get Out are clearly intended to work on multiple levels. When Chris confronts Georgina about something being wrong and she smiles and says, “No, no no no no no,” with tears streaming down her cheeks, the symbolism is blatant. How often do people of color have to ignore the subtle indignities they face and hide their true emotions in order to avoid coming across as, for example, “the angry black woman/man”? How many times do they find themselves in social situations—even with their closest white friends!—where people make little comments tying them to an “exotic,” supposedly monolithic culture, where they have to respond with a smile and a laugh instead of telling people how stupid and offensive they’re being? 

I can’t tell you the number of these stories I’ve heard from my friends, and I’m quite sure that the stories I’ve heard are only a tiny fraction of the stories that could be told. So there’s something in that moment that speaks volumes about the experiences of people of color in America.

The same is true for so many other moments. The black characters Chris meets at the Armitages’ have all symbolically given up their identities and conformed to white culture; when Chris meets one character, he turns out to be going under a new name, with new clothes and new mannerisms; when Chris offers him a fist bump, he tries to shake Chris’s fist. Again, within the story, there’s an explanation for all this, but every moment here is also about assimilation and culture differences. 

For me as a white audience member, all of these moments did something remarkable: They showed me my own culture—a culture I’m often blissfully unaware of because it’s all around me—as something alien. They reminded me that I, too, have a culture, and that expecting everyone else to assimilate to my culture is just as much an erasing of their identities as it would be to expect me to assimilate to someone else’s culture.

And that’s a big part of what Get Out is about—the erasing of identities, and the power of racism to destroy people. I think it’s really significant that racism is portrayed here very differently from how it’s normally portrayed in movies written by white people. In most Hollywood movies, you know a character is racist because they shout racial epithets or make blatant statements about a certain race’s inferiority. That allows white audiences to say, “I would never do/say that, so I’m not racist!” We really don’t want to think we are.

But notice something important about Get Out’s treatment of racism: This is a film about the literal enslavement of black people—racism doesn’t get more extreme than that—and yet Peele doesn’t go for the obvious by having the white characters admit that they think black people are inferior; instead, they subjugate and dehumanize people by claiming to admire things about them. They turn them into fashion accessories. 

When Chris asks why only black people are being targeted for this procedure, the response is telling: It’s not (supposedly) because the white characters think African Americans are bad, but rather, because they like certain things about them and they want “a change” for themselves. They want to become black—it’s trendy, we’re told!—but without having had any of the actual life experiences or history of African Americans. White people need to see this: to experience the ways in which Chris is othered by people who tell him all the things they like about him—isn’t he strong? Look at those muscles! Does he play golf like Tiger Woods? And he must be well-endowed and have such sexual prowess, right, Rose?

The white people in the audience need to be reminded that just because you’re saying positive things about someone doesn’t mean you’re not being racist, that turning someone into an exotic “other” may not be the same as shouting an epithet, but it’s still taking away someone’s identity and treating them as a commodity.

The film is filled with these kinds of moments. When we realize that Rose’s white grandmother has inhabited the body of Georgina, the fact that she keeps touching her own hair and admiring herself in the mirror takes on a whole new level of significance. (White people, please don’t ask to touch your black friends’ hair.) When Chris connects with a dying deer on the side of the road and later sees a deer head mounted on the wall at the Armitages’ estate, the symbolism is hard to miss. Black people are being turned into trophies in this house. And, oh yeah, they’re being literally auctioned off—as they were in real life in the not-too-distant past.

One day, I’d like to see the film again to pick up on all the ways things read differently the second time through. I noticed several things in retrospect that gain new significance once you know the ending, and I’m sure there’s a lot I didn’t notice. For example, Rose’s dad says he hired Walter and Georgina to care for his parents, and when his parents died, “I couldn’t bear to let them go.” The first time you see the film, it sounds like the “them” is Walter and Georgina. But in retrospect, it’s clear the “them” he couldn’t bear to let go was his parents, so he sacrificed Walter and Georgina for them. Which, again, is an example of how the supposed care of the white characters for the black characters (his care for Walter and Georgina, Rose’s care for Chris) is really all about caring for themselves and treating the black characters as completely interchangeable objects.

The message of the film isn’t simply that the black characters are “good” and the white characters are “bad.” There are presumably—hopefully—many good white people in the world of this film, and many others who wouldn’t do what the Armitages are doing but also probably wouldn’t believe Chris or make the effort to stop it. Peele’s mother and wife are both white, so he’s clearly not trying to paint all white people as villains. 

But I admit, as a white guy, I really, really wanted Rose to be good. I’ve been the white person in an interracial relationship introducing my black boyfriend to my family. I’ve been that. So I related to Rose, and I really wanted to believe that she was well-intentioned and just oblivious; even though she misses the mark on several occasions, there are times that she seems like she gets it and she really does listen to Chris. When a cop asks to see Chris’s ID early in the film even though he wasn’t driving, Rose stands up against the obvious racism, showing us all what it looks like for white people to do the right thing. “That was hot,” Chris says to her later, and I thought, yeah, that’s who I want to be.

So I have to admit, it was really upsetting to me to see Rose, the only good white character left in the film, turn out to be evil. But I realized that part of that is that I really wanted her to represent me, and that’s really the point. Just think how often horror films have only one black character who dies early on, and how many films of all genres have no significant black characters for audience members to look up to or identify with. I think it’s really important for white audiences to experience that.

As I’ve reflected on the film, it seems to me like there are three kinds of popular movies about people of color. There are those that feature POC characters that are essentially indistinguishable from the white characters—as if they just decided to cast Morgan Freeman instead of Tom Hanks without giving any thought to the character’s race. Then there are the movies that deal with racism, but in a way that allows white people to feel good about ourselves, because we’re not like the characters in the film. (This is especially true for movies about racism in the past; some of them are very important films, like Hidden Figures, which I loved, but we need to be aware that it’s still easy for white America to treat it as a feel-good film and think that we’re off the hook because we no longer have separate restrooms.) And finally, there are movies that focus more directly on the lives of people of color but tend to draw largely audiences of color; not many white people go see them, because we think they’re not “for us” (even though we assume films about white people are for everyone).

Get Out isn’t any of those. It’s drawing a broad audience but it’s not afraid to make white people uncomfortable. And if you can give me, a white guy, a chance to have even a momentary fraction of an experience of the real-life, modern-day, casual racism facing people of color in America, I think that’s a very good thing.

Six Years and Seven Days

This is pretending that Bellamy could hear Clarke talking all those years, she just can’t hear him responding, and that the ship at the end is them coming back to Earth. 

So…pain. 


Day Three

“Bellamy…are you up there? Are you alive? Is anyone alive?”

Static.

“I only woke up yesterday. At least, I think it was yesterday. I barely made it into the bunker in time, but I made it. And the computer says it’s been three days since the radiation hit, and I was so hungry I thought I might die. Please tell me you didn’t die.”

Silence.

“Bellamy, my mom was right. In a way. My face is disgusting, covered in boils. You’d be laughing at me…probably. Because she was right but so were you. I’m not dead Bellamy. I hope you aren’t either.”

His fingers slammed on the respond button, pushing it down to the point of it feeling like it would crack from the pressure.

“I’m not dead, Clarke. I’m not dead.”

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Stay for the night

So… I had this idea earlier today and I’ve been working on it since 3PM. I hope you guys enjoy it and please let me know what you think! Lots of love, B xx

The house is empty and silent, much different than when you first arrived and the last bottles of beer and wine have been tossed in the bin just outside of Harry’s kitchen. You’ve managed to tidy things up a bit, make the house less messy than when his drunk guests left almost half an hour ago and now, after washing your hands from the sticky remnants of beer that got all over them while you cleaned up, you can finally try and find him and bid your goodbyes.

When you do find him, he’s sitting on his couch, legs spread open and a hand resting on his tummy, his head tipped back and resting against the back of the couch, a frown on his forehead and his lips pressed in a tight line - if you didn’t know better, you’d say he’s fighting nausea but you know the truth. You know he’s just about to pass out and sleep for the rest of the night on his couch and the only thing he’s waiting for is for you to leave - he’s too much of a gentleman to let you just leave without saying goodbye.

Smiling, you stand between his legs, one knee resting on the small bit of the couch that’s available and you lean forward, hand reaching for the curls that fall across his forehead, your fingers pushing it back in a slow rub against his scalp and he hums in appreciation of the gesture.

“Everyone’s gone.” You inform him, thumb smoothing across the frown lines on his forehead and he relaxes under your touch, his face turning softer, his lips opening around a sigh of contentment. “I’ve cleaned up so you don’t have to do it tomorrow.”

“Didn’t have to.” He says and you can see his sleepy green eyes open to glare at you, but the effect of his intended angry stare is just a grumpy and pouty, too sleepy to look menacing stare. “‘M a grown man, can do my own cleaning.”

“Know you are…” You giggle, cupping his face in one of your hands and rubbing your thumb across his pouty lips. “Just wanted to help.”

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 KAI PARKER X READER (SMUT!!!)

HUNGRY

Desc: Reader is a newly turned vampire struggling to control their hunger and heightened feelings for Kai.

Blood sharing & smut included

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“I’m so hungry,” you growled softly, a network of veins crawling to life beneath your eyes. Your whole body ached with a hunger only blood could satisfy, your fangs piercing lightly into your dry tongue. 

You stood in the forest, surrounded by bright green trees, your boots sinking into the rich soil beneath your feet. It smelt of pines and fresh air, but all your mind could do was spin with the urge to feed. Rays of feeble sunlight trickled from the dark clouds that hung low in the grey sky. You tried to be good because you didn’t want to hurt anyone, but you were a newly turned vampire, and animal blood only soothed your cravings slightly. You’d promised everyone you had everything under control, and they’d all bought it. Everyone except-

You heard the whoosh of somebody appearing behind you, and turned to face a cocky looking Kai.

“You can always try the human diet,” he offered. “Running away from me won’t make you any less hungry.”

His lips twitched slightly, forming his familiar & smug smirk. His blue eyes glimmered, his defined cheeks rosy, brown locks smoothed perfectly atop his head. He was stunning, yes, but…

“Kai, you hurt people, and I can’t do that,” you replied firmly. 

“Oh don’t play so innocent,” Kai teased. “I know you’re not the perfect girl you pretend to be.”

You felt your heart miss a beat momentarily, and you swallowed the lump in your throat with a little shake of your head.

“Leave me alone, Malachai.”

“But you’re so much fun, princess,” he smiled, licking over his pink lips.

You rolled your eyes and turned away, waiting for Kai to leave.

“Look, I know why you might not trust me,” he started softly, with genuine concern.

Your eyes fluttered closed, while you tried to block out the sound of his voice.

“But I promise you I can help you through this. I won’t tell anyone that you’d been lying to them, (Y/N). Just, please…let me be the good guy for once.”

You took in a deep breath, the veins under your eyes fading momentarily. 

“You don’t get to be the good guy, Kai. Because you’re not a good guy,” you hissed under your breath, refusing to look at him.

In a second, you were thrown backwards, your back thudding roughly against the sharp bark of the tree behind you. You yelped out, Kai pinning you firmly in place, his aroma overwhelming you, his eyes dark with anger.

“You know what, you’re right,” he breathed over, his voice low. “I’m not good, but neither are you. And don’t give me any of your bullshit, because I know the girl you are, the one you’re scared to show to anyone else. You’re a vampire now, and vampires kill. And as much as you might deny it, I know your pretty little mouth wants to be engulfed with the flavor of warm blood, and with your emotions heightened, you must be dying to try all the dirty little things you’ve never tried before,” he purred huskily.

Your chest rose heavily, eyes flickering over Kai’s annoyingly perfect features. It was impossible to think straight with his chest pressed so hard into you.

“You’re wrong,” you lied.

“Awh, really?” Kai murmured, his blue eyes drinking you up. “So if I did this,” he said, trailing his slender fingers between your thighs, “you’d feel nothing?” 

It was insane how much electricity you could feel through just the whisper of his fingertips, and how you noticed each individual goosebump arising under his touch.

“N-no,” you stammered, with little result.

“And this?” Kai hummed, his hands firm on your waist as he brought his lips gently to your neck. His mouth grazed over your skin, tongue gently swiping over your exposed flesh. Something inside of you stirred, and you involuntarily released a quiet moan.

Kai stopped, squeezing your hips lightly, his lips coming to your earlobe.

“That’s what I thought,” he whispered.

He released you at once, his blue eyes alight with lust. Without a word, he moved to leave you, his point proven. You vamp sped up to Kai, grabbing his wrists from behind, and slamming his body straight into an oak tree before he could react. His back hit the tree trunk hard, but he wasn’t phased at all, the look in his eyes knowing. Your hands trembled slightly, strands of your tangled hair toppling across your eyes. You stared at the malicious bad boy, feeling stupid for the way he made you crumble so easily. You bent forward, touching your forehead to his, eyes locking with his blazing blue ones. You breathed in Kai’s overpowering scent, dark veins crawling across your face as you inhaled. Your heart thrummed loudly, the only thing you could focus on being Kai’s fresh warm blood.

“Do it, (Y/N),” he dared, as if reading your thoughts. Kai raised a wrist to your parched lips, and your fangs sprung back out at once. “You know you want to.”

Without a second thought, you seized Kai’s wrist, bringing it straight up to your hungry mouth. Your fangs sunk deep into his flesh, and the taste of him instantly flooded through your lips. Both your hands came up to pin his arm harder into you, and you groaned in pleasure, your hands trembling from the need for more.

Kai brought his right hand up, and pushed your head gently into the crook of his neck, where he held you lightly. You could feel his cool rings against you as he brushed his fingers through your locks softly, cooing, “that’s right, sweetheart, keep going.”  

You nuzzled into him, the taste of his blood like a drug, the hunger inside you somehow only growing, not yet satisfied. Kai’s mouth hung open, and he let out a soft moan, the sight of your fragile form in his arms too much for him. His eyes grew dark with hunger, veins crackling beneath them. You whimpered against Kai’s wrist before releasing him, your eyes black, his blood leaving a red mess all over your mouth. Kai looked over you with adoration, a lopsided smile on his lips.

“Are you hungry?” you asked him when you saw his eyes.

“Not for blood,” he grinned, his tongue flicking over his fangs.

Kai seized you by the waist and flipped you onto the leaf strewn forest floor, so you grabbed his ankles, throwing him down beside you with a laugh. You whooshed onto his chest, straddling his body and bending over his lips to kiss him before he could react. He responded at once, hands flying up to grab your ass, tongue sliding into your mouth and fighting for dominance with yours. Kai sucked the excess blood from your mouth, a growl emanating from his throat as his lips worked with more force. His faint stubble brushed over your skin, and he squeezed your backside roughly as his lips molded perfectly against your own. You could feel Kai’s large bulge growing beneath you, and your hands instantly reached for his belt buckle. You tossed Kai’s pants off, and then literally ripped his shirt from his chest, your mouth peeling from his to dive into his rippled front. You trailed your tongue down across Kai’s chest before leaving sloppy kisses all over him, brushing your fingertips teasingly across his boxer line. Aggravated by your control over him, Kai flipped you onto your back, peeling off your own clothes, his breath heavy as he delved into your breasts. His name toppled softly off your lips, your head rolling back as he squeezed, sucked, and bit at your flesh. His lips attached around your nipple, and your hands went sliding into his hair as you held him there. The knot in your stomach grew tighter, the wetness between your legs increasing with every second. Every little thing he did to you was filled with so much more intensity as a vampire, and it felt good. Kai removed his mouth, leaving little kisses all down your belly and to your underwear. He hooked his teeth around the lace, removing the fabric easily before taking off his own boxers. Your eyes drifted down to his length, your eyes widening, the lump in your throat growing. Kai caught you staring, and did another one of his smug smirk’s. 

“Ohhh,” Kai sighed, two of his fingers rubbing circles gently against your clit. “I’ve wanted to fuck you senseless from the moment I laid my eyes on you.”

You trembled slightly, eyes flickering over Kai’s sculpted features, “so do it.” 

Kai’s eyes flickered back to your face, and he chuckled with delight. “And I bet you’ve wanted that too,” he purred.

“Please Kai,” you begged with impatience. “Just-”

“Just what, babygirl?”

“Just fuck me,” you pleaded, mouth watering at the sight of him.

Kai smirked, looking pleased, “I’ve broken you, haven’t I? Why haven’t you shown me this side of you before?” he asked seriously.

You closed your eyes, “I-Kai…”

“Tell me,” he whispered.

“I’ve been dead for three weeks now, and your somehow the only one who made me feel alive. I didn’t want to let those darkest parts of me feel for you, but I just…can’t,” your voice cracked at the end. “I need you so much, Malachai Parker.”

He looked you over, his eyes softening with adoration. And then, slowly, he gave you what you wanted. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he entered you, his length stretching you wide open. Kai’s hands moved to your hips as he began to mercilessly slam his hips into you over and over again. You cried out in pleasure, a layer of sweat gathering on your forehead. 

“You’re-so-” Kai panted, “tight for me.”

Just the sight of him and sound of his voice was enough for you to want to go over the edge. Kai dragged out the next thrust, pushing into you at an excruciatingly slow pace, his mouth hanging open as he groaned your name.

“More,” you begged.

Kai moved one of his hands to your clit, rubbing vigorously as he began to quicken his pace again, finding your spot in no time. Your hands flew to his back, nails dragging across his flesh as you bounced harshly beneath him. Your breathing got heavier, body convulsing as your screams hit a high, your words ragged.

“FUCK,” Kai groaned, his head falling forward as he gave a sloppy final push, his come instantly emptying into you and filling you up to the brim. Your juices mixed with his, your body still shaking. Kai moaned and pulled out, diving into you at once to clean up the mess. His tongue gave little kitten licks to your heat, his head burrowed between your open legs. Kai dipped his tongue gently once into your folds before releasing you, his chest heaving. He flipped over onto his back, his arms sliding under your body and pulling you close into his chest. You curled up against him, arm dipping under his protective hold as you listened to the strum of his heartbeat. Kai mindlessly started playing with your hair again, his eyes always on you.

“You probably think I’m weak for giving into you so easily,” you said after a long silence.

Kai’s eyes crinkled sadly at this. “No, (Y/N), you’re strong, and that’s why I admire you. You spent so long avoiding me because if we ever got even a little close, it would mean that somewhere inside of you, a part of you felt something for a monster like me.”

“What does it mean that my weakness is you?” you asked softly.

“I don’t know,” he said. “What does it mean that a ‘psychopath’s’ weakness is you?”

Cheerleading IS a sport | JJ

Request: a dom!jungkook smut when y/n is a cheerleader and he is like the player of the sport and yeah they could like have the fun in the changing room~

Pairing: Dom!Jungkook, Football!Jungkook X Cheerleader!Reader

Summary: Y/n, best flyer on the cheerleading squad. Jungkook, best kicker and scorer on the football team. What will happen when things get heated between the two all because of something that he just spilled out of his mouth.

Genre: Smut, Angst, Smut

Warnings: Swearing, dirty talk, Dominant!Jungkook, Sub!Reader, hospital handjob, cocky asshole Jungkook

Word Count: 3k+

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{PART 22} I Won’t Stop You (M) // Jeon Jungkook, Vampire!AU

Originally posted by jengkook

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Vampire!AU, Fantasy, Angst, Smut

Summary; You hear the great history of Vampires as you have never heard it before. But as the door into Jungkook’s world is opened wide for you - many more open in turn. Jungkook finds himself overwhelmed with anger - and that anger turns into something you least expected.

“His love and protection were both her weapon and shield. She didn’t belong or willingly surrender to anyone; anyone that was, except him.”

I update this series every Tuesday evening, 9pm-10pm (UK Time) 

{Part 1} // {Part 21} {Part 22} {Part 23}

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Giving In

In which Harry and y/n are too impatient to wait until Valentines Day…

A/N: Shoutout to @stylesunchained for the title because I was seriously stumped.  Anyway, HAPPY VALENTINES DAY MY LOVELY FOLLOWERS! This is probably the filthiest thing I’ve ever written so… enjoy. 

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Passionfruit | 2

Namjoon is not at all what you expected him to be.

Originally posted by namxingruinedme

pairing: namjoon x reader
genre: smut
wordcount: 7.1k

part one



You were used to judgment.

It came in many shapes and forms. Men’s roaming gazes as you walked past. The way guys would leer at you, objectifying you with their stares and their wolf whistles. You were used to coming face to face with judgment. 

People made assumptions about you and always had. Guys you slept with always approached you and you knew they had seen you and made a snap judgment about who you were. Girls who saw you narrowed their eyes and protectively put a hand on their boyfriends knees when you walked past. People saw you and decided that they knew who you were, you didn’t have a say in the matter. In their eyes you were already the slut, the loose one, the messy one, and nothing you could say or do would change that judgment call.

So it had been a surprise when you had met Namjoon’s eyes last week and seen no judgment there.

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epiphany | jungkook

Pairing: Jungkook + Reader 

Genre: Fluff + college au 

Word Count: 3.6k 

Part: | 1 | 2 |  

Summary: You hated his guts, especially after he ruined your chance at getting a good grade in one of your toughest classes. But why did your heart beat a little faster every time you saw him? And why did he feel the same way?

Reader’s POV

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to give you a failing grade, Y/N…” Mr.Ransford frowned,“ You should’ve saved your work somewhere separately you know?”

You gaped at him in complete shock, as everything came crashing down on you.

“B-but you don’t understand! It wasn’t my fault-” you stammered, your hands flailing around in a frenzy as you attempted to explain your dire situation to your psychology professor.

“Y/N, I’m sorry I’m afraid we can’t discuss this right now, I have a class in 2 minutes. We’ll talk later, hm?” he said as you sighed, your shoulders slumping in utter defeat.

He patted your shoulders in sympathy as you walked out of the door, tears welling up in your eyes as you thought of all your hard work that was now flushed down the drain. All because of one boy.

That damn Jeon Jungkook.

—-

“YAH!” you yelled, raging, as you approached the boys, a deadly glare in your eyes as you grabbed Jungkook by the collar of his tshirt. Pulling him up from the bleachers where him and the rest of his friends were sitting, all of them gasped, mouths going agape as they witnessed their golden maknae get manhandled by you.

“Y/N~What a pleasure,” Jungkook said, giving you a lazy smirk.

Your blood boiled at the audacity the boy had, to address you in such a way, after he had destroyed your chance at a good grade- heck a good year of college. Without thinking first, you lifted your hand and slapped him across the face, the contact shooting vibrations of pain down your arm as the noise echoed in the air. Immediate silence followed, everyone looking at the two of you with rounded eyes as Jungkook himself, was in shock.

You stood there, your chest rising up and down, breathing heavy as you glowered at him. His hands flew to his cheek as he let out a stream of curse words, his gaze landing on yours, fire kindling in his eyes as he reddened in embarrassment.

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Suga Daddy: Part 8

Suga Daddy: 8

Word count: 8.3k

Genre/Warnings: angst, dirty talk, language 

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Summary: Yoongi tells you about his past but is terrified of how you’ll take it.

This came a little early than expected. Anyway, enjoy and thanks for reading.

Parts: {playlist} one | two | three | four | five | six | seven 

Everything felt like it was playing out and slow-motion and all you were doing was twirling the flowers in your hand. You were nauseated and your mind was racing with every possible scenario. You knew that Yoongi couldn’t have a squeaky clean record. Especially with his attitude and the way he talked to you sometimes. For some reason you still loved him, despite that.

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playing with fire | (m)

Originally posted by bangtannoonas

• pairing: jeon jungkook x reader, college! jungkook
genre/warnings: smut, explicit sexual descriptions, exhibitionist themes, slightly-sub! jungkook, switch themes, oral sex, face sitting
• words: 8,460
→ summary: jungkook seems to have a little crush on you, and no matter how much you try to ignore it, you seem to be losing your resolve with each passing day…

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Park Chanyeol//Liquid Truth

Originally posted by yeolhighness

Summary: You and Chanyeol go way back, and are best friends. It’s become routine for you to come over to the dorms whenever you have a fight with your boyfriend, but lately, he’s been pissed off at you, and you’re not quite sure why.
Scenario: angst, fluff
Word Count: 6,917

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I Like You [Min Yoongi]

Warning: Contains smut. Do not read if you are underage.

A/N: This is very, very long. Grab a coffee, sit back and enjoy. Thank you to @katythekitty for your suggestions with the plot. I guess in a way this is kind of your requests? Idk. 


‘Y/n?’ Yoongi’s voice questions softly as you stretch across the floor of the dorm, arms reaching above your head to get into that tight spot in your lower back. His foot pokes out from his position on the low couch, gently nudging your thigh to roll you slightly on your side.

‘Mmm?’ You respond, the sleepy tone in your voice giving away the true nature of your state. The few cans of beer were sitting heavily in your stomach, a beverage that since your college days had always had you yawning before the night was over. Lazily, you flop on your side, scooting across the wooden panelled floors.

‘I was just checking you were still awake. It’s 2am and the movie finished. Want me to flag a taxi for you?’ You let out a slow whine, body wrapping around his feet to clutch his ankles tightly.

‘Why, you don’t want to hang out with me?,’ You pout, clinging to his legs like a small, fluffy koala. You could almost feel his body tense under your touch, an audible breath hissing through his teeth as your arms claw their way up his black denim jeans. ‘C’mon, Yoongyoong. I thought we were having fun. We are only two movies into this Harry Potter marathon… We’ve still got another 6 to go. Where’s your stamina?’ Your hands reach up to tickle behind his knees, before sitting upwards to envelop the entire lower half of his leg into a hug.

‘Fuck… you’re weird.’ His face was still flat, expression blank as he watches you crawl your way up his body, coming to sit comfortably next to him, lounging into the comfort of the soft black fabric of the long hoodie he had chosen to wear. Instinctively, your hands wrap around his waist, head placing itself in the crook between his shoulder and arm.

‘You love it, though, right?’ It takes a second, his body heaving with a deep sigh - the air of which dusts lightly across the crown of your head - before you feel his arm drop, grasping your shoulder and pulling you a little closer to him.

‘Not really.’ He responds just as flatly, a flicker of a smile lacing across his face so briefly you you wouldn’t have seen it if you weren’t trained in finding it. It’s the only evidence you have of what he was really saying.

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Exquisite Death

Got your attention, didn’t it? GOOD. Now that you’re here:

Humans Are Weird ™

I know. Anyway - I was in the dentist this morning and I had a thought. It isn’t necessarily about teeth. Those of you hopelessly addicted to Dragon Age will recognize that phrase up there in reference to some apparently gorgeous-looking, truly-heinous petit fours. Apparently they’re…I don’t know? Delicious but killing you while you eat them. Pain, but, you know “worth it!”

So there I was, getting my teeth scraped and belt sanded clean and I realized that (along with the oh-so-nice slick feeling of clean teeth) I was really looking forward to my teeth aching all day. I know. Weird. But it’s like when I had braces - I hated the rubber bands, the jerk orthodontist, getting food stuck, and the brackets scraping up the inside of my mouth. What I didn’t hate was when I got adjustments and my teeth would dully ache for days. How messed up is that? It was my own Exquisite Death. A sweet ache.

Doesn’t have to be my brand of weird. Maybe for you it’s muscles. How they ache after a good run, a good workout. You hate it while it’s happening, but afterwards, when there’s that aching tingle of a muscle well-used, it’s pretty glorious.

— — —

“Human-Denton!” The alien’s too-large eyes were wide and unblinking as he looked down on his charge who had yet to get up off the floor. Urrut was supposed to be keeping watch over this human, but he was hard to keep track of - he was constantly moving and hardly ever asleep.

Holding an arm up, Denton let it fall to the ground. Hard. Muscles aching and protesting any sort of movement. “Gimme a minute.”

“Are you in distress? Shall I call a medic? Why did you do all of that - you are…oozing! Is this normal? Shall I call a medic?” Urrut’s sticky feet peeled up from the mat - first one than the other as he shifted uneasily.

“You asked that twice,” Denton gave a wheezing laugh. “I had to see if I could do it. Gotta push yourself, Ur. Gonna hurt like hell tomorrow.”

“I am calling a medic.”

“No, Urrut-” Oh it hurt, but he sat up. Rubbing his arms, he worked the stiffness threatening to set in. “I’m fine. I swear.” Next was his legs, and then he could get up. He wasn’t kidding. It was going to hurt tomorrow, but… “Worth it.”

— — —

Maybe you’re one of those people who gets a bruise and pokes at it “because it makes it heal faster”. Let’s be real. You just like the ache of it. Reminds you that you’re alive, that you can feel, that you did something amazing or stupid or amazingly stupid.

— — —

Shore leave was over, and as the crew made their way back on board, Meera found herself watching two of the human engineers talking and laughing about what they had done with their free time, and then…then they did something odd. One peeled back the shoulder of their jacket, and the other lifted the hem of their top covering to reveal discolorations - bruises.

They were laughing about them. They were proud of them. And - she was sure her face was a mash of confusion and disgust and horror - they were prodding at each others bruises, hurting each other, and laughing about it!

Barbarians the lot of them.

— — —

Maybe it’s food. Oh god, there’s no way you don’t know someone (or aren’t that someone) that eats good that hurts. Too hot. Too spicy. Too…dairy (lactose intolerant people, I feel for you.)

— — —

The lunchroom erupted in laughter as Aimee all but bathed in the water she was pouring into her mouth, down her throat, and all over the front of her clothes. She hopped around, flailing her hands, tears streaming down her face until someone shoved a glass of white, opaque liquid into her hands and she carefully drank it as though it were the most precious nectar.

Taking flight, Zzirxax zoomed across the room, hovering nearby, “What just happened? Is she okay?”

Through laughter and cursing and what Zzirxax came to understand that the humans had done something called a ‘dare’, and that it involved Human-Aimee consuming the hottest pepper from Galmeria-6. When asked why, why would she do that, the reply was predictably human.

“Won, didn’t I?” Mouth open a moment, fanning air towards it with her hand, Aimee took a deep breath and wiped away another tear. “So worth it.”

The Transfer

The Transfer (m)

Word count: 9.4k

Genre/Warnings: language, angst, smut, dirty talk

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader

Summary: You’re a sophomore in college who always runs away from relationships. That is until you meets Jung Hoseok, the South Korean transfer who shows you what a relationship can be. Although you know it’s wrong since he’s your best friends Jimin’s new roommate.

(Again this is my old story from my Wattpad (5sos version on there) but I wanted a Hoseok story and to finish this one.) Plus I was listening to Selena Gomez’s song, Bad Liar and yeah.

Parts: two


“Kook?” you yelled threw the apartment. You waited until he answered, “Yes Puddin’?” He yelled back.

“Do you need me to wash any clothes for you? I have a little more room in the washer!”

“Yes, one second!” You heard him shuffle in his room grabbing his hamper. He walked through the den and kitchen to the laundry room. “Thank you, Puddin’.”

“You know Jimin called me Puddin’ the other day,” you said taking his clothes out and sticking them into the washing machine.

“That’s my nickname for you!” He pouted, leaning against the door frame.

It was true, ever since sixth grade. You never wanted anyone to call you by your name for some reason. You thought it might have been some teen rebellion thing. So when you came to school one day with a Harley Quinn shirt on Jungkook took that as the chance to call you puddin’ and it just stuck. You two had been best friends since and now you were in college together. It was your sophomore year at the University and you loved it. Your parents had also found the two of you an apartment close to the school, so you could “stick together,” as your parents called it. They always thought you two would end up together but you two were too close for that. You loved Jungkook but you could never be in love with him.

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Mixup

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, talk of periods

Word Count: 1,913

Prompt: After a witch spews it’s spells on Dean and the reader, the reader wishes for something to happen to Dean, and Dean turns into a whiny bitch about it.

Special thanks to @lipstickandwhiskey for betaing.

It was nearly blinding when the purplish-grey dust flew around you and Dean. Before it could all clear out, and the two of you could actually see, Sam had nailed the witch. One bullet, directly through the back of her head, and you were fine. She collapsed into a heap on the ground, and that was that.

Sam’s nose scrunched up as he approached the two of you. “What the hell did she douse you guys with?”

“Some of her freak weirdo witch juice,” Dean grumbled, practically gagging at the stench that was coming from the dust. “I need to shower, like now.”

“Good thing we’re not far from the motel,” you chimed in. “So what do we do with Bellatrix over there?”

Dean scoffed, “really? Out of all the iconic witches, you pick the one from Harry Potter?”

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Rotten Judgement - part 6

AU!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Hercules!AU After selling your soul to save your lover’s life, you become one of the Lord of the Underworld’s slave. Bucky is obsessed with one thing: collecting hearts. But why?

Word Count:2,052

Warnings: the usual + Torture, Blood, Death

A/N: I hate warnings, they spoil all the fun… Sorry, I don’t know what’s going on in my brain, but I enjoy drama lol Enjoy, lovely cupcakes :)

Rotten Judgement - Masterpage

Two weeks after you last saw Bucky, you were getting ready for your meeting with Sam and his team when you heard a lot of giggling and chattering in the hallway. You rolled your eyes, recognizing the voice of the two Furies.

“What do you want?” you asked defensively as you swung the door open.

“Missed us?”

Wanda pressed her cheek against Nat’s and they both gave you their best innocent smile. When you didn’t answer, they bat their eyelashes at you.

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