wish you could have been there

chenzi-koden  asked:

Hawker, ignore the naysayers. You have a wonderful project here and plenty of fans to support and cheer you on. I wish I could afford to contribute to your patreon, but all the same, I'm excited to see what you have to offer in the future.

TY ;7; it’s just been annoying that people just straight out start to compare, or expect stuff to get the feel of ADC or shove their ideas down my throat. I wanna have fun making this comic and it’s good to see a large amount of people supporting it!

When I see you so happy with her it’s salt in the wound
You twist the knife in my soul when you tell me how she is the one for you,
That she is all you’ve been waiting for.
You are unnecessarily cruel.
It dehidrates my soul and exacerbates the hurt when I hear every little detail about your joy.
I wish I didn’t feel this way.
I wish I could just be happy for you,
But I can’t help if life aggravates things and makes them worse.
Why do I have to be only your best friend when I am in love?
—  e.v.e.
Snapshots from a granted wish

“Alright kid,” the genie says, “yer on your last wish.”

You frown at the lamp. You can glimpse dull copper between the gaps in the dirt. You should probably clean it. Your laptop sits next to it, as close to the edge it can safely get. 

“I wish I could get my novel published,” you mumble to yourself and the genie leans in, stretching out a large, green ear. 

“What’s that? I couldn’t hear you.”

“I want to get my novel published,” you say loudly. 

The genie nods. 

“Yeah, I can work with that. Let’s see…”

He floats around the room, muttering to himself. Your other wishes had never taken this long. 

“Alright,” he says, clapping his hands together. The maniacal crackle must have been your imagination. 

“We just gotta work one thing out,” he continues. “What does ‘published’ mean to you?”

“A hardcover, physical book,” you say. You’ve always dreamed of holding it in your hands, breathing in that new-book smell and knowing it was yours

“By an actual publishing house,” you add. You have always wanted your work to be renowned. 

The genie nods. 

“So, you” -he points somewhere in your direction- “want your book to be published by a publishing house as a hardcover, physical book. Have I got that right?”

You nod and he frowns. 

“It won’t work without verbal agreement,” he reminds you. 

“Yes,” you say and he grins. 

You have a moment of fear upon seeing it. Then the room fills with bright light and the genie grows. 

“Wish granted,” he booms and the light gets brighter. You squeeze your eyes shut, seeing starbursts in the dark. When you open them again, he is gone and the lamp is crumbling into dust. 


Weeks pass and you think the genie has lied. Your novel has not gotten any better and you are barely a third of the way through the first draft. 

It is winter in the city and one day, you slip upon a patch of ice, right into the path of a moving car. You use your last thought to curse the genie and hope it somehow sticks. 

Later, you give the coroner quite a scare when you wake up in the city morgue and immediately try to sit up. 

You sneak out amidst screams. Even later, you hear that the coroner has been put on indefinite leave due to health issues and apologize into your coffee cup. 

Your word count is 10,000 words. 

After several more instances and several more coroners going on leave, you realize that this is what the genie has given you. Time. 


Years pass and you have gone through more drafts than you can count. You lost track somewhere around draft 65. 

Hair falls into your face, the roots blackening. You need to re-dye it soon before people start asking questions. 

Your latest draft sits on your latest laptop. Technology has gotten more wonderful through the years, but you have always preferred a physical keyboard beneath your fingertips. 

You lean your head back and look up at the ceiling as a holographic dolphin swims far above your head. You hope this is it. 


Your final draft is finished and you are ready to die. 

Excitement fizzes in your blood as you download your work, all 15,000,000 words of it. Your life’s work in one single document. You have had a lot of time on your hands. The publishing company you have chosen, likes its submissions transported to them instead of emailed. You know it’s called something else now, but you can never remember the term. 

You send it off and hope. 

You are patient. That amount of words takes a long time to read and it is nearly a month before you get an answer. 

“While we have accepted your novel for publication, your request is highly unusual,” the large man on your doorstep says. 

“We’ve never been asked to do it before,” the shorter one next to him says as they step into your parlor. 

“Can you do it,” you ask. Your blood seems fizzier than usual. 

Both of them frown. 

“We’d like to,” the shorter man starts. 

“We really would,” the larger one chimes in. 

“Except,” the shorter man continues, “all the wood on the planet is protected. We simply can’t make paper.”

The fizziness in your blood vanishes and it feels as though a large planet has landed in your stomach. 

Before, when you were younger, you would have jumped at the chance to have an adventure. But, now, gravity calls to your bones, urging you to lie down and slip away. 

You beat that thought aside with ease and sigh. 

“What do I have to do?”

“Well, there’s a couple planets on the edges of the known universe that have lighter regulations on their wood. You can see if some of them sell paper,” the short one says. “All you have to do is get us the paper and we can publish.”

“Can I get that in writing,” you ask. 

Night finds you at the shipyard, dragging along a single suitcase, the contract clutched in your hand. Hopefully, this will be your last adventure ever. 

anonymous asked:

am i the only one thats pissed off that the writers seem to milk out overdone character plots and then kill off good characters we actually want more of? like with lucifer. he couldve been over and done with a long ass time ago but they decided to always update his plot in, what seems like, every season?? and with charlie/eileen/etc, they couldve gave some great ass characters that STAYED ALIVE but no, we have to learn more about what luci's gonna do. because he's so important, of course right?

nooope you are defiantly not the only one, i hate that too. could’ve gotten so much more of killed off characters AND: two characters i’ve always wish we’d seen more is Michael & Adam. ….but we got luci instead 

anonymous asked:

Riverdale is like an evil genie warped my 11 year old me's wishes to make the worst possible way for them to come true you will get a jarchie fandom but you have to see cole sprouse's insufferable face not the good nice original needlenose and you will get beronica but its actually just an actress who got lost on her way to a production of grease queerbaiting u and the aesthetic is horrible so none of the fans are good truly a double edged sword

it’s like, the worst thing about riverdale is that it could have been really good (or at least a lot more enjoyable). like they could have gone weird and experimental and have a neat tone. could have had better dialogue, a better overarching plot. 

could have had fun subplots that fleshed out the side characters. could have had side characters that were developed beyond having a first and last name. 

could have had more lgbt+ stuff than the GBF and his Latino Gangster bf. sure they might make one more of the side characters lgbt+ in s2 but we’ve already seen how side characters are treated in this show. 

hell, we could have had a josie and the pussycats cover of fucking mad world but no they even took THAT out. 

Hey, everyone! We’re sorry to say that Mod Oso has left the Tabimatsu blog, but please don’t despair! We’re all still good friends, and hope that one day, maybe we’ll find him rooting through the bins outside of Mod HQ again some time.

However!! We have been talking a lot about potential new additions to the moderation team, and someone should be coming along to take his place shortly. Not that this could ever replace the Mod Oso-shaped hole in our hearts.

Best wishes, Oso, you made this blog an incredible place, and now all we need to do is trap Mod Kara under a box and Suujimods will finally take control I hope you have a wonderful life!!

anonymous asked:

I just don't understand why Sophia wouldn't have announced it at the end of the Paris con or something. And why hasn't she said anything now? Like wouldn't she want us to hear from her first?? She loves her fans so I don't understand. None of the articles even have a reason or a statement from her. It's all a bit weird to me. It sounds like it's true and I'm just so upset. I wish she'd acknowledge it just so we have some peace of mind you know? I love Sophia. I want to hear it from her 😭

I honestly can’t speak to this. It could have been leaked. But there’s a lot of politics in show business and they do things a little differently lol. Who knows she may have been instructed not to say anything officially. And it’s not the first time we’ve heard of an actor leaving a show/project through an article like this, won’t be the last. I’ve no beef with her. I am upset the show handled the story of her (and linstead’s) exit so poorly.

My Lovely Followers/Family

{My beautiful friends and family… I am so sorry this took so outrageously long to post. I’ve been gone for a while, and I hate to make excuses… but I must give my reason. There has been some horrible shit going on. And my attention has been needed. When I have the chance to breathe, I sleep because I don’t know how to handle what has been thrown at me on a daily basis. Mind you all, I am twenty years old.

I don’t want sympathy or the like. I’m strong. But my activity, as of when I come back, will vary. I truly love you all so much. I miss you all. I wish I could be on more. Thank you for sticking with me. I’m not dead yet.}

NHL!Bitty, Pt. IV - RPF

@missweber requested NHL!Bitty dealing with Hockey RPF. This got a little longer than expected, with a side pairing of Jack/philly-cheesesteak. Takes place a few months into Bitty’s second season with the Schooners. 

Origin: From Samwell to SeattlePart I - Hug Check | Part II - Chirping | Part III - Post-Season




The most annoying thing is that for all of the ‘Jack/Parse’, ‘Jack/Tater’, ‘Jack/Sid’‘Jack/fucking-every-player-on-the-east-coast’ fic, there are a whopping SIX  ‘Jack/Eric’ fics on Ao3. Six.

On one hand, Eric’s proud they’ve hidden their relationship so well, on the other, Eric is insulted. But really, with their disappointing portmanteau of ‘Jeric’ or ‘Zittle’, it’s not surprising they’re horribly under-appreciated.

“I just wish my fans were more creative.”

Over Skype, Eric watches Jack plow through a Philly cheesesteak with no small measure of jealousy. He’s lonely and hungry, and his asshole boyfriend is doing this on purpose.

“You know,” Jack says, talking out of the side of his half-full mouth, “if you let the Schoons call you ‘Bitty’ our name could have been ‘Zimbits’. That’s kinda on you.”

Keep reading

Wrong

Originally posted by lumos025

Summary: Jungkook, Jimin and Taehyung bullied you in high school and by some sick joke the universe was playing on you, 2 years later Jungkook was attending the same University as you. Even sicker joke was being stuck with him doing a project on ‘Sex in Cinema’ for a whole semester. Go figure.

Words: 8083

Warnings: Smut, a lot of dirty talk holy shit (I can’t help it), oral, masturbation, overstimulation.

2 years earlier:

You walked down the road, almost around midnight, trying to get home as fast as possible the chilly rainy weather. Not to mention the truck that was trailing behind you and the screams and shouts of “wait up thunder thighs!” and “stop running away like a little bitch!” coming from the 3 boys who occupied it. Wrapping your arms around yourself to feel just an ounce of warmth, you willed yourself to ignore these bastards and walk faster. ‘I’m almost home, I’m almost home’ repeating it like a mantra in your head. Really, it was a stupid idea to think that you could enjoy a last high school party with your friends who were the complete opposite of you. After all, when the three most popular boys of the school were determined to make your life a living hell, why would anyone else want to treat you different in this extremely cliché scenario. It was hard to pinpoint what exactly was it about you that made them hate you so much.

From the time that you can remember, and you remembered a lot, Taehyung, Jimin and Jungkook had always despised you. It’s like they couldn’t stand your existence. When you would be at the library helping out by staying late, they would wait after school, yes they would go out of their way to stay at school longer, to make sure that your walk home was as stressful as possible. Making fun of pretty much anything and everything you did was a normal occurrence. You had just learned to live with it, but not today.

You suddenly started to slow your pace. They are cowards, you thought. What can they possibly do? Always taunting, always calling names, always making you feel shit about anything you took interest in. But they were all talk right? You thought, huffing out. People like them walk in groups because they can’t actually do anything alone. You don’t know what came over you, but you suddenly stopped and turned around slowly. The truck that the boys were trailing behind you also slowed and stopped a few meters away.

The one driving was Jimin, while Taehyung sat beside him and Jungkook stood, head poking out of the truck’s opening in the ceiling. You stood defiantly, shaking from the growing rain, your hair soaked and hands tightly by your side. Silently daring them to charge the truck towards you. ‘They won’t do it, they’re cowards’ you thought, your confidence growing slowly. You couldn’t tell where this adrenaline rush had come from to give you such courage to finally stand your ground, just a few weeks away from graduation. You could see Taehyung’s cunning, and terrifyingly psychotic grin widening as he relentlessly whispered in Jimin’s ear, whose grip on the wheel was tightening as he looked you right in the eyes. Jungkook was laughing. He apparently found the situation so amusing, that you decided now to grow a spine and challenge them. Suddenly, the sound of the engine revving was as loud as the rain.

It all went pretty much downhill from there. The last thing you remembered was your too loud heartbeat, the bright flash from the truck and Jungkook’s face suddenly forming a horrified expression as if he wasn’t just laughing at you.

Present day:

You weren’t looking for him specifically among the crowd flooding into the lecture hall. But something did happen inside you when you spotted him. A kind of lightness, or a lifting of some heavy part of yourself. Everything was settling into a nice, normal routine. You were going about your daily lives in an ordinary manner, and you were doing it completely separately.

He sat in the fourth row, and you sat at the back. Only now there was no rising sense of dread. You didn’t keep your hand to yourself when the lecturer asked a question. You answered, without the background sound of someone snickering. And even when it felt as though he was looking at you, when you snuck a glance at him you only ever saw the back of his head.

He bent low over his notes, and his head occasionally lifted a little as he really listened to whatever the lecturer was saying. Once or twice you actually caught him nodding, or doing a little staggered-looking half laugh over some ridiculous concept. As if he loved it all now.

He loved it so much he was sometimes at the lectures early. You would come in with Y/B/F, still giggling over something ridiculous, and get the faint prickle that told you he was already there. Only now when it happened it didn’t make you want to cover herself up, or run and hide. There was nothing to hide from. Everything was going to be super cool and totally fine from here on in. Or it would have been, if it were not for the group project. The one that you were so excited for that you didn’t process it when your lecturer started reading out the names. You would be working with Y/B/F—that was a given. They were going to watch ridiculously filthy movies together and laugh about bobbing butts and ogle Ewan McGregor’s penis.

And then you heard his name.

Followed by yours.

Distantly, like in a dream of being in class.

“Miss Y/L/N, do you have a problem with that assignment?”

Everyone was looking at you now. No—not just looking. Examining, as though You had become a new and baffling species. The girl who was not excited about being carried by Jungkook. The creature who seemed horrified at the prospect of working with him. It made it difficult to do anything at all, even with Y/B/F urging you to say yes, yes I do have a fucking problem. Though You still didn’t expect the shake of you head to happen. Just one little accidental shake of you head and that was it. Your lecturer moved on to his next victim, leaving you in something You once had a nightmare about in ninth grade. Working with Jungkook. On a semester-long project.

About sex in cinema.

“Don’t worry, we can fix this. Just go to his office and talk to him privately about it. He would have to be Satan himself to not understand,” You heard Y/B/F whisper. But the words seemed even further away than you name had when your lecturer read it out.

“Right. Right. Yeah. You’re right.”

“I can come with you if you want.”

“No, that’s okay. That’s fine.”

“Are you sure? You look like you’ve been punched. In the face. With a small nuclear blast.”

“I’m sure,” You said, but soon came to regret that firmness in your voice. The steady nod that told Y/B/F it was okay for you to go in a different direction once you were outside. It only meant that You were on your own when you got to the tiny hallway outside your lecturer’s door.

And saw that Jungkook was already waiting. Of course he was—he probably had the same concerns as you. No matter how sorry he was or what he thought of being in the red and being wrong, he would never want to work in close quarters with you for the entire semester. In fact, him being sorry likely made the situation seem worse to him. Most likely he had calculated all the awkward conversations you guys would have to have and how far apart he would have to stand to keep you comfortable, and found it as unbearable as you did.

Even though his expression seemed to say something else.

Oh god. His expression was saying something else.

Then he held up his hands, as though to calm you.

And you knew.

“All right, Y/N, I know that you’re probably thinking it’s way better if you do this project with that gal pal of yours, but wait, okay? I got reasons why this is gonna be fine.”

“Is that seriously why you’re here? To stop me asking to switch us?”

“Well…no. Not stop you exactly. Stop is a really strong word.”

“While I’m glad you’ve learned that—” You said, your voice briefly catching when you saw his wince. He winced, your mind hissed, before you forced yourself to finish. “I still think it covers what’s happening here.”

“I just wanted to talk to you about it for a second. Just, like, hear me out.”

“I want to. I really do. But come on. You know I wasn’t born yesterday. This has all the hallmarks of some kind of trap or prank or joke at my expense.”

“How could it possibly be a trap or prank? He put people together based on…I don’t even know what he put people together based on. But it couldn’t have had anything to do with me.”

You searched his face, looking for the lie. Waiting for him to show some hint of bullshit, beneath those too-kind eyes and his spread hands and the obvious logic of what he was saying.

Only there was nothing, nothing, nothing.

And it made no difference at all.

“Okay, I buy that. I do. Yet the fact still remains: I cannot do a project with you. Ever. You have to know that doing anything like that is completely impossible for me. Right?”

“I was just thinking that maybe…maybe you could give it a chance. You know, now that we’re on speaking terms and everything is almost cool between us.”

“You think everything is cool between us?”

“Well, maybe not cool exactly. More like…okay.”

“Still need to dial it back a notch, chief.”

“Reasonable? Not bad? Kind of semi decent?”

“That last one is getting close.”

He sighed, shoulders sagging.

Relenting, you thought. He’s actually relenting.

“Fine, we are a fucking disaster.”

“Now you’re getting the idea,” You said.

“But I figure we can work on it.”

“By doing a project on sex in the cinema together?”

“Well,” he said. “When you put it like that it sounds dumb.”

“There’s no other way to put it! That is literally what you’re suggesting.”

“Yeah, I get that. I just…want to not get that. I want it to be easier or better or just not the way this is.”

“That could have been my daily prayer in high school, Jungkook.”

He didn’t react the way You expected to, with more weird arguing.

He just closed his eyes.

He closed them like someone had just told him his family had been in a fatal accident.

“I wish I could go back and start over again. More than wish—I would give everything I have to start over again. The wrestling, this scholarship, every party I ever went to and every fun thing I ever did. And you can choose to not believe me about that, but—”

“I believe you.”

“You do?”

“I’m as surprised as you are, but yeah.”

“Then why does this have to be such a big deal?”

You thought of Y/B/F saying attempted murder.

“Y/N that is fucking attempted murder. Babe, you don’t have to feel bad about anything you put him through now. His friends and him included, ran you over with a fucking truck. How much physio and other therapy sessions did you have to go through because of them, huh?”

The terror that used to flood you when he walked down the hall.

That ever-present sensation of a grille barrelling into your body.

“Because understanding that someone is truly sorry and wanting to spend huge amounts of time with them are two different things. I might see that you mean this, and know rationally that I can almost sort of trust you. Maybe I even want it to be that easy, too. But your face is the one I had nightmares about for two years. Your smile doesn’t seem happy to me. I associate it with cruelty.”

You shook your head. Glanced away from him so you didn’t have to see the defeated look on his face.

“It’s hard for me to look at you, Jungkook, no matter how much I appreciate what you’ve done here.”

“That was a really well-thought-out and logically sound speech.”

“I know it was. I’m pretty proud.”

“And I have no argument against it.”

“You don’t need one. What you’ve done here…” You gritted your teeth hard and looked at the ceiling. But this time it didn’t stop the tears. They were already welling up by the time You explained the rest to him.

“It means a lot. And a million men would never have done the same, I can promise you. I don’t have any messages from Jimin on my phone. Taehyung isn’t going to call anytime soon. It’s just you, a rare fantasy in the middle of all this dismal reality.”

He turned around when you were done. All the way around—and then his arms went up to cover his head and you understood. What you said had affected him, strongly. Maybe more than his words had affected you. It took him twice as long to get it together, and even after he had he couldn’t quite look at you. He just kept staring at the wall and clenching his jaw.

And saying things. Oh yeah, he said things, in a strained, shaky voice.

“I meant what I said, you know. That you are the very best.”

“I know. That’s why I’m going to ask you not to say it again.”

“I can’t stop. I have the opposite of whatever idiocy infected me in high school.”

“What, like insane-need-to-compliment fever?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” he said.

“Well it has taken a raging hold of you, let me tell you.”

“I know it seriously cannot be stopped.”

“I think you have a terminal case.”

“Not a bad way to go, if you ask me,” he said, so soft and sincere it took all your strength to stop yourself smiling in response. You could feel your lips trembling. Your cheeks ached with the effort of pinning them down, yet still You knew you were failing. You could see it in his satisfied expression.

And hear it in his words.

“That’s better. Seeing you look happy.”

“I am happy,” You said, then added without thinking: “Are you?”

Of course you didn’t mean anything by it. It was just a polite habit, based on interactions with people other than Jungkook. People who had actual problems, who lived troubled lives, who might answer with a god no. Jungkook would never need to answer with a god no. His life was full of endless possibilities and unfettered glory. He could snap his fingers and have a thousand people follow him to the ends of the earth.

He even looked that way, in the dim light of the narrow hallway between these offices.His hair was the colour of dark chocolate. Every item of clothing suited him perfectly, from the rich grey-blue of his V-neck to the jeans he’d tucked into his timberlands. He exuded cool from every pore; he could have stepped off the cover of a magazine.Yet all you could see was his face as it slowly sagged. It was like watching someone cut the strings that had held a mask in place—a mask you hadn’t known he was wearing. You thought that smiling golden god who had tormented you was the real him, but for a second you couldn’t be sure. Just for one heart-rattling second, and then the door to the office opened and that glimpse of something else was gone—so fast You would imagine later that it had never existed. It was just a trick of the light.

Better to focus on the real and the now.

“What can I do for you two today?” Professor asked.

Then you took a breath and answered.

“Nothing,” You said.

A few weeks later:

After that day, you didn’t know how or why you suddenly decided to give working with him a try, but so far, it was going…. okay. You two met up at the library, took your notes, glancing at each other once in a while, mostly Jungkook, asking each other questions relevant to their awkward topic given the situation and that was that. He made jokes sometimes that managed to get out a few carefree laughs out of you as well. It was all… comfortable. Nothing that you had expected. That is why, you decided, it was time to move on to watching actual movies for references, in your project.

It was nearly one in the morning, on a Wednesday night when you went to get him as your friend was out and that was the only time Jungkook was free after wrestling practice. Everyone was in bed, and it gave an eerie feeling to your journey back to your dorm.

As did his silence.

He was always talking—You realized that then. Sometimes he practically kept up a running commentary on everything and anything, yet here he was as quiet as stone. And it wasn’t because he was exerting himself. He didn’t breathe hard once the whole time. He could have been carrying a backpack full of air. But the idea of mental trouble lingered. When you tilted your head a little, you could practically hear his mind going over and over things, in a way that just wasn’t like him. He was easy-going. Happy-go-lucky. He never worried about things the way you did.

Until now.

“Jungkook, are you okay?”

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know. You just seem a little…”

Like an ominous statue of yourself.

“I was just thinking what movie we should watch.”

“Oh. Oh. You mean…right now?” You asked.

“Well, that’s what you came to get me for.”

“That’s true, I did come and get you for that.”

“Unless you don’t want me in your room so late.”

“No, no why would I…no, that’s cool.”

“You’re in the Jubilee Building, right?”

You had the strongest urge to ask him how he knew. But that seemed just as weird as objecting to him being in your room.

“Yeah. You just go past the science block and then—”

“Right, right, right I got it, I got it. The statue of Heo Nanseolheon is outside it, yeah?”

“That’s the one. Then it’s the third floor. Don’t worry though, there’s an elevator.”

“Ah, it wouldn’t have been a big deal.”

“Do you wanna let me unlock the door?” you asked standing behind him when you both reached your dorm.

“Oh shit, yeah. Yeah, go ahead,” he said moving his bulky body out of the way as you slid past him to unlock the door. Everything had returned to the way it should be now between you and Jungkook.

Except for the sexy movie you were now going to watch.

Alone. Together. On your bed. In the middle of the night.

You let him pick the movie, thinking that would make things easier somehow. Nothing could be misconstrued, at least, that way. He wouldn’t think you meant anything by your choice, whatever it might be. But you forgot that he might mean something with his choice. You watched the heroine trying to clumsily pick up the hero at the start of White Palace, and cringed so hard it felt more like a cramp in your gut. Your cheeks grew hot, in a way that made you grateful for the dim light of your feeble bedside lamp.

Otherwise he would see you face go red and know you understood his point—despite the fact that his point was fucking nonsense.

“This is even less realistic than Dirty Dancing.”

“Really? You think so? Like, in what way?” You asked.

“It just seems like she keeps pushing and pushing. No woman would push a guy that good-looking if he didn’t seem into it. I can’t think of anything more embarrassing.”

You didn’t look at him, but knew he shrugged.

His arm rubbed against yours as he did it.

“Maybe she doesn’t care.”

“I guess not.”

“Maybe she knows he’s actually into it.”

“That could be one explanation.” Jungkook says, sighing.

“Plus she obviously gets exactly what she was looking for.” He adds.

Onscreen, Susan Sarandon was going down on James Spader.

Which to you didn’t seem to back up his point at all.

“Oh yeah, I’m sure she’s having a great time getting absolutely nothing out of this.”

“That’s what this looks like to you? Like she’s getting nothing out of this?”

“Well, in movies they make it look like she is. But I doubt she really would be.”

“You doubt that giving a guy a blow job could be enjoyable for a woman.”

You glanced at him then, just to see if his expression was as incredulous as his voice.

Then had to look back at the screen quickly. If anything, his expression was worse. He had one eyebrow raised, and there was almost no humour in his eyes. This was serious somehow. Much too serious.

“I don’t know. I mean it’s not really something you do for your own enjoyment. You do it for his.”

“So to you there’s nothing pleasurable about it. Nothing sexy about having a guy at your mercy. Begging you, moaning for you, trying not to push too deep when it gets too good.”

Your breath hitched.

“You do those things?”

The words came out too fast. Too disbelieving, too.

But You just couldn’t stop them. They ripped out of you before you had time to talk it over with you mind, all ragged around the edges and maybe a little breathless. Just enough that he likely heard it, and wondered why. You couldn’t tell him, however. You didn’t know yourself.You only knew that when he started talking again You had the urge to put your fingers in your ears.

“Of course I do those things. Having your cock sucked is fucking amazing,” he said, which was absolutely fine.

But then he kept going.

He kept going.

“The heat and the slickness and her looking up at you as she works it with her hands and lips and tongue. Especially the tongue. The tongue is the best part. Watching it curl right around the—”

“Well, okay, it sounds cool when you put it that way.”

God your voice sounded loud. And too fast again, too. All your words practically jumbled together.

“I don’t know what other way it could possibly be.”

“How about hold still while I fuck your face? Some guy coming right in your eye? Losing a chunk of hair because he pulled too hard?”

“You’re not serious. Tell me honestly. None of that happened.”

Now his voice was bright with amusement. But it didn’t make you feel any better.

“All of that happened. To me. More than once.”

“Yeah but after…”

“After what?”

“After he came then he…”

He made a circle with his hand bobbing his head, as though you should know that one thing logically followed on from the other. It was all completely easy and obvious.

Instead of the hardest quiz you had ever had to get through. “Then he what? Gave me cab fare?”

“No. No. After that then this happens.”

You glanced at the thing he was pointing at.

Then had to look away again, quick. At your hands, at the bedspread.

At him, as he oh-so-slowly realized what your sudden awkwardness meant.

“This has never happened to you. Holy shit. You’ve never had a guy go down on you.”

“I have had a guy go down on me. I totally have.”

“Are you sure about that? You don’t look sure.”

“Well, maybe not like this.”

“There’s no other way to do it. This is actually the most basic, ordinary way to go about eating pussy.”

At those words, you could feel the fire burning on your cheeks and your breathing getting laboured. Jungkook really had no filter.

“Yeah, but this seems really exciting and sexy and hot.”

“Going down on a girl is really exciting and sexy and hot. Like I said about giving a guy head? Exactly the same principle. You get to see you writhe and shake and push herself against your mouth. Just like that, just like Sarandon is doing. Look at her. Look at her.”

“I am. I am looking,” You said, but You weren’t, not really.

You were thinking of the shiver that had gone through you when he said look, soft as butter and so oddly tender. And the way that he was looking himself, eyes almost far away.

Like he was seeing Sarandon, but putting someone else in her place.

“Think about how it must feel.”

“Yeah I can…I get that…”

“Think about his tongue slowly easing over her soft folds.”

“Is that…how…is that what you…” You said, breathlessly “Uh-huh.”

“And it works?”

You voice was a whisper now. But that was okay. His was, too. It was so low he had to lean close to ask you questions. He had to meet your gaze, and You had to meet his.

“What works?”

“It makes you…you know. Cum.”

“Oh yeah. But you gotta take your time.”

“I see. I guess that makes sense.” You were just babbling now, trying to keep up with him.

“Let it build, nice and slow. Start by just stroking her with your fingertips. Work her, you know, until her lips part. And then when she’s all open to you, you just trace the shape of her with your tongue. Lick and lick in these ever decreasing circles until you’re right…fucking…there.”

“Where? Where…where are you?”

You shouldn’t have asked. You knew you shouldn’t as soon as it was out. Your faces were too close together now, and his body seemed to be looming over yours. That was his shoulder, almost nudging your chin. And his thigh, pressing deep and hard into yours. His answer was never going to make any of this better.

Then it came, hotter than molten lava and twice as destructive.

“Her clit. Her slick, swollen clit.”

“I see. That makes sense,” You said, even though that wasn’t what you wanted to go with.

No, what you wanted to go with was more like oh my fucking God this can’t be reality.

“Then you just…stroke it.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Until she’s mindless.”

“Yeah. Yeah.”

“Doesn’t even know what she’s saying anymore, or doing. She might tell you to bite, to fuck her with your tongue and fingers, harder or faster or some word that doesn’t even make sense. Hips coming up to meet you, greedy for it, horny for it, so horny she barely notices that her hand is in your hair and she’s squeezing tight enough for it to sting, so close to coming that her whole body is shuddering and shivering and flushing that deep, good pink. Soon as you see it you just know she’s burning. That her clit is aching and throbbing and her pussy is all open and slippery, and one more second of this will make her come. She’s already coming, before you even know where you’re at. Hard, hard, hard, like she never has before.”

You were holding your breath by the time he was done. You practically had to—his face was so close now you could have blinked and brushed his cheek with your eyelashes. Every word he said seemed to stroke against your face, cool at first but then more heated. As though he was starting to boil alive inside, too. Certainly he looked that way. You have never seem him flushed like this, not even when he pushed himself during a match.

Not even when he was embarrassed.

Though you supposed that wasn’t a common occurrence. He didn’t seem to be embarrassed now, and he’d just said all those words. He said clit and pussy and slippery, as if that was just a normal way to talk to your friend. And he did it all without flinching, too. Without glancing away or putting some distance between you. In fact, those eyes of his—now heavy lidded and so soft focus—seemed intent on you more than they ever had been before. They skittered all over you face, searching for something you had no idea how to give.

You didn’t even know what the something was.

You only knew that it made you forget yourself, just as he had described.

It made you search his face back, marvelling over every brutish line and gentle curve. Those lips of his, as plump as a girl’s yet so masculine at the same time. Every inch of them gleaming, as if he’d slicked them with gloss in anticipation of a kiss. Though even in that moment you didn’t really believe you wanted that. Until he whispered, low and heavy against your own lips.

“You can, you know.”

“Can what?”

“Touch yourself.”

It jolted you, when he said it.

But not as much as realizing why he said it.

You followed his gaze down, and took in the unmistakable sight of your hand in your lap. Really, really high up in your lap. Almost between your legs, in fact—though that was fine, it was cool, it was okay. You stuttered ‘no, no I didn’t really want to do that’, but it didn’t matter.

Because his hand was actually between his legs.

“I do,” he said.

As the whole world as You knew it dissolved right in front of your eyes.

“You do?”

“Fuck, yes. I’m dying to.”

“Because of the film. Because of the movie.”

“Sure. We can say that, if you want.”

You closed your eyes. Swallowed thickly.

Wished hard that he hadn’t added that last part.

“If we could that would be awesome.”

“No problem. I mean it was probably inevitable that this would happen to us.”

“Probably, yeah. Almost definitely, in fact.”

“Just a natural response to a sexy movie.”

“Seems that way to me.”

“So you just slip your hand under your waistband, and I’ll slip my hand under mine,” he said, which was fine all on its own. The problem was that he then went ahead and did it. You tried not to look, but saw anyway. You saw the way he fumbled in his haste, as though all his talk was only calm on the surface. Underneath, something was paddling frantically. It was making his cheeks pink and his body all trembly.

And his dick hard. God, his cock was hard.

You could see that without even trying at all. The curving shape beneath his sweatpants was enormous and unmistakable, and even if it hadn’t been, his hand made it pretty clear. As You watched, he eased it over that solid length, before finally clasping it in a way that shoved the swollen head right up against the tented material. Now You could make out ruder details, like the thick ridge around the head, and the slit at the tip. Both pronounced, explicit, rude.

But that wasn’t what really got you.

It was the way he stopped to lick his palm, before shoving it

under his waistband.

“Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god, are you serious?”

“It’s cool. it’s fine. We don’t even have to look at each other.”

“No I guess not. I guess…I guess that I can just watch the screen.”

“We’re just two people getting off over a hot movie.”

“Exactly. Exactly.”

But that wasn’t strictly true. You weren’t getting off over the movie at all. Nothing was even happening anymore—it was just rich people looking down their noses and arguments over a Dust buster. If anything, it was vaguely depressing, rather than lust-inducing. Yet still You sat there, face burning, body tender and rigid all at the same time. Half of you stuffed so full of embarrassment and shock you sort of wanted to block everything out, the other half just shamelessly straining to hear every single tiny sound he made. Never daring to look, of course, but then…

You really didn’t need to.

He made so much noise that you could make out almost everything. Every little moan and gasp—and there were a lot of them, too. Lots of thick, guttural moans that started on an ah and ended with a kind of abrupt sigh, as though a knife had sliced through his throat before he could finish. So many soft mmms and gasps, like he honestly couldn’t get enough of whatever he was doing.

Though it was the whispers that hit you hardest. They got you right in the gut, low down and deep enough to ache. Oh yeah, he murmured, as though the hottest sex in the world was happening onscreen. As though they were fucking like animals, up and down and left and right. His tone even sounded sort of tremulous, and it got more intense as time went on. Soon he was panting, and rocking, and every now and then uttering something he was clearly imagining himself doing.

“Ah, yeah, suck my cock, just like that,” he said.

Then just to make it extra agonizing, he spat into his hand.

To make it extra slick, you thought, like someone’s mouth. Someone sucking him the way he’d described, slow and steady until he was actually shuddering, right here and now. The bed was moving, at least, and it wasn’t because he was working that cock hard. He wasn’t. He was going slow, so slow, squeezing and rolling rather than the short, fast kind of thing You’d always thought guys did. They almost never seemed to do anything else in porn…but then again they never did all this other stuff, too. You dared to turn you head a little more and saw to your astonishment that he had his hand pressed to his mouth. He was almost biting his fist, chest heaving, body shivering all over—but most important, eyes closed.

He couldn’t even see you looking. You were free to do as you pleased.Yet something held you back. You couldn’t seem to do more than peek out of the corner of you eye, and even that made you feel strange. You kept getting this clenching sensation—sort of like embarrassment or humiliation—and it got worse when his back arched. When he actually said out loud that he was almost there, that he was so close, that he was gonna come all over your duvet. I need something to do it on, he said, and even that had a shameful frisson of its own. You had a brief flash of him kneeling up and suddenly coming all over your face, or maybe pulling down that ridiculously large neck hole to expose your breasts.

Followed by an image of that thick white liquid coating you, striping you face, dripping off your tight little nipples. Him pushing his cock past your lips to finish off, groaning as he flooded your mouth.

And he would have flooded it, too. You glanced at him just in time to see him shove his sweatpants down, that big dick swelling under the pressure of his too-tight grip. Thick ribbons of come already hitting his bared belly, over and over until you were sure he must be done. He had to be, yet more kept flowing over his still-working fist. You watched it run down over his fingers in slippery trails before pooling in his lap.

Though none of it was what you kept seeing behind your eyes in the aftermath. Instead, you saw the way his face had looked as he shot his load. The open mouth, and the closed eyes, and most of all the strange, wrenching vulnerability that had covered him for a moment. No mischief, no macho bullshit—just a completely open and abandoned sort of ecstasy.

And all of it for you.

He knew you had watched him. He still knew now. You flicked your eyes back to the screen as he started to catch his breath, but the first thing he did was include you.

“Guess I kind of made a mess here,” he said, everything about his tone suggesting two conspirators, finishing off their evil deed. You even got up after he’d said it, to get him a tissue.

Though when You got back he’d pretty much taken care of most of it.

You stopped in the doorway to the bathroom at the sight: Him, casually licking his messy fingers.

It took you a good two minutes after that to go over to him, with your fistful of toilet paper. And when you did go, it was on very shaky legs. Your whole body felt shaky, in fact—though not in any way you’d experienced before. This was like being full to the brim with something burning hot, skin so close to ripping that it couldn’t keep still. Sometimes you thought you could see it shivering slightly under the strain, and every inch of it was tender, so tender. His leg brushed yours as you sat down, and it was agony. You even winced—then immediately regretted it.

He had been concentrating on clean-up. Now he looked up at you sharply.

And asked questions You were loathing to answer.

“Have you…not? I mean have you not—”

“I couldn’t. I’m sorry, I couldn’t.”

“God, you must be bursting.”

“Honestly, I’m fine.”

The problem was though; you didn’t seem fine.

You couldn’t meet his gaze. Your hands were fists on your thighs.

And of course he could see all of that.

“You look like you’re bursting.”

“Oh yeah? And what does bursting look like?”

“Your voice is shaking.”

“Is it?” You asked, voice so light it almost passed.

Almost, almost, almost.

“Your cheeks are flushed.”

“Are they?”

“And then there’s the fact that your nipples are like diamonds. Fuck, look how stiff they are. Isn’t that agonizing, having them like that? I bet your clit’s the same. Bet your pussy is so wet. So wet you’re making a mess of the nice, clean clothes.”

Your cheeks grew hotter and hotter as he whispered each word. By the time he was done they felt like they were going to melt right off you face. That tense, cringing feeling in your stomach was ten times worse, and that was before he got to the last point. The one about the clothes, and the mess, and oh god what if he was right? It felt as if he might be. You weren’t wearing any underwear, and everything was really slippery between your legs. You could feel it, every time You moved.

“Oh fuck, sorry, sorry I don’t…I hope…it’s just that—” You didn’t even know why you were apologizing

“Honey, you don’t need an explanation.”

His tone was like sinking into a warm bath—and the thumb you could feel stroking over you forearm only pulled you deeper down. He just did it so idly. So like he wasn’t touching you at all.

Before you knew it, you were up to your ears in liquid heat.

“Are you sure? Because it kind of feels like I do.”

“I’m sure. I mean, the movie was pretty intense.”

“Right, exactly. Super intense.”

“So why deny yourself?”

“I’m not…denying…anything.”

“I could leave, if you want.”

“No, god no,” You said, too fast and too fierce.v

Though it was only afterward that you realized how it sounded: Not like someone trying to say you didn’t want to masturbate. Like someone saying that you wanted him to stay.

And he took it that way, too.

“Or, you know. I could just…do it for you,” he said.

Then you just had to do your best not to go out of your mind.

You stopped herself from jumping up. Kept your hands from flailing.

Didn’t look at him, in case looking made you do something crazy.

“Oh my god. You can’t be serious. You can’t be serious.”

“Probably wouldn’t take a lot.”

“I always take a lot.”

“Even when you’re alone?”

“Especially when I’m alone.”

“Well, maybe we should see about that.”

Again, you had the urge to get up. Maybe you even would have, if it hadn’t been for the other things he was doing. The thumb stroking your arm was now the back of his hand, running the length of your arm over and over. And that was his breath against the curve of your throat, so close and warm he could have been kissing you there. It felt like kissing.

Only without the scariness of the real thing.

All of this was without the scariness of the real thing. It was just a game, that was all—and one that you could win if you really put you mind to it. He thought he could get you so easily, but he was utterly and completely wrong. You were a rock, in the face of whatever he was going to do. You were impervious to the pleasure he seemed to think he was going to dole out, to the point where you almost laughed when he slipped his hand beneath the waistband of those too-big sweatpants.

It was weird. Slightly uncomfortable.

Not sexy in the least.

And then his fingertips just oh-so-lightly grazed the pouting lips of your swollen pussy, and things pretty much started to go downhill from there. The sensation it sent through you was just so intense, and over something so small. He hadn’t even slipped between them to your clit, or eased a finger into your slick little hole. In truth, you weren’t entirely sure he’d touched you at all.

Yet you still had to clench your jaw.

You had to tell herself that it was just the stuff that had happened before—the film and him coming and then licking his fingers like a satisfied cat. It wasn’t anything to do with this right now, with him touching you, with his skill. He wasn’t skilful at all. He was terrible. Awful.

he worst lover you had ever had.

You had no idea why your thighs were trembling. Or what made you moan when he finally, finally, finally eased his fingers into that slick slit, and then topped it off by telling you just what he found there.

“Ohhhh fuuuuck you are wet. You’re so wet. Jesus Christ, Y/N, how can you stand it? How can you sit still and quiet with those eyes closed when your pussy is like this? So slippery I can just glide all the way down and ease on in and oh man, oh man,” he said, and all You could do in response was shiver and make a number of embarrassing noises. First for his words, and then oh god then for the feel of him doing it.

He used two fingers—two of those long, thick fingers—yet somehow it didn’t hurt when he pushed into you. There was no fumbling or searching. Your body just seemed to open for him, as though they’d dated for years and he’d worked on you for hours. He knew exactly how to touch you there, and when he did you simply had to respond. Your gasp rung out in the small room.Though you vowed it would be the last one. That was it now—you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of anything else. Not even when he started working his fingers in and out, slow and steady and so unbelievably good. you kind of wanted to cry over the unfairness of it. Why was he the one who had to be so good at this? How did he know how to do it in this deliberate, teasing, tantalizing way?

Even watching him do it was exciting. You made the mistake of glancing down and all you could see was his hand rolling beneath the material, the waistband occasionally stretching to give you a glimpse of your glossy cunt, his gleaming fingers, the way you were spread around that thick intrusion…

Fuck.

You had to look at the screen just to stop yourself coming right then and there—though even those measures had an exciting quality of their own. James Spader was just doing something incredibly dull now, while you sat here watching through slitted eyelids, cheeks flushed and legs spread, as a man slowly fingered your slick, flushed pussy. Back and forth, back and forth, until you were so beside yourself you weren’t sure you even wanted to hold back your moans. You only knew that you were still trying, for reasons that seemed vague and far away now. It just doesn’t matter, your mind hissed, but you kept it up anyway. You held yourself more tightly and bit deep into your lip—deep enough that you tasted blood. And when he started to ease those fingers up, you shut your eyes tight. You thought of other things, more boring things: dry books and bird-watching. All to no avail. He made one circle around your clit.

Just one tiny, insignificant circle, and that was it. Your orgasm rolled up from that stiff little bud, in one all-consuming and all-powerful wave. It took away your control over your body—your toes curled tight and your back arched. But most important, it took away your control over your mouth. It let one little word slip out.

Though one little word was more than enough.

“Jungkook,” You said, and after that the game was pretty much up. That was gratitude in your voice and pleasure in the sigh behind it, and all wrapped in the neat little bow of his name. There was no more pretending that it wasn’t him who had made you feel this way, or suggesting that all of this was just a game.And he knew it immediately. He kept up the thrusts of his long, thick fingers, helping you prolong the feeling of your orgasm for as long as possible. And he didn’t stop there. Your face was starting to contort from the oversensitivity and it was obvious that Jungkook knew it too from the way he bit his lip and started to purposely move his fingers faster once again.

“Ahh! J-Jungkook… I can’t….” You moaned out, though this seemed to have no effect on him as he seemed determined to elicit another orgasm from you. His fingers scraping against your tightening walls as they fought to repeatedly slam back inside you. Your thighs were shaking, your eyes half lidded, leaning back on your hands as his worked between your legs. Suddenly you gripped Jungkook’s moving hand as you came dangerously close to letting go.

“That’s it, fuck, cum again for me Y/N. I need this. You need this” He almost sounded desperate and it made you want to sob because everything was so fucking hot.

With a cry of his name, you came undone again, your body almost curling in towards itself from the sensitivity.

“Holy shit, holy shit,” he said, as though you’d cried out the filthiest thing on the face of the earth. And, again, he didn’t stop there. You could hear him fumbling with the waistband of his sweatpants already—though you tried to turn it into something else in your head. He was just pulling them up, you thought. They had slid down as he serviced you, that was all.

Only it wasn’t all.

When you made the mistake of glancing his way, you saw so much more than you were ready for. It was supposed to be over now, completely over, but he’d shoved everything down to mid-thigh and his cock was in his hand again and god god god why was it so arousing? You’d had cum twice already. He’d had one orgasm already, and now he was being so fucking filthy.

Yet somehow the filthiness only made it worse.

You came searingly close to telling him yes.

And go on.

And come all over me—just like you’d imagined.

For one wild second, it even seemed like he might. He was groaning and panting and he kept saying things, incredible things like “do you see what you do to me do you get how fucking horny you make me oh fuck just hearing you moan my name”. His hand was heavy on your shoulder, and you knew he was close. He was going to yank your top down any second now.

Any second, you thought.

Though you didn’t realize how much you wanted it until the first thick burst slid over his fist.

Didn’t know how little control you had over herself until he grunted your name and shuddered violently, that slick fluid easing over his still-pumping fist. After all, if you’d had any you would have stayed right where you were, content to just watch.Instead of leaning forward to take that heavy, swollen, slippery head in your mouth, to catch the last ribbons of his salt-sweet cum all over your eager tongue.

“Fucking fuck, Jagiya” Jungkook cursed loudly, watching you take the head of his cock in your mouth. He slid his hands in your hair, gripping it from the bottom of your skull gently, rocking your face back and forth, riding out the last of his high. You looked up at him, eye still glassed over, breathing hard and laboured and slid the head of him out of your mouth.

There was no doubt that Jungkook was shocked at your boldness but he seemed pleasantly surprised. His pupils blown out, lips swollen, skin gleaming. He truly was a work of art. The magnitude of what you two had done hit you hard. So, naturally, there was only one thing left to do in panic.

Kick him out.

“Jungkook…you need to leave”

A/N: So, Idk what happened but yeah hope you all enjoy. Not sure if I’ll make this a series since I’m bad at continuing ideas. I may stick to separate scenarios. I get bored easily. However, please feel free to check out my blog and send me ideas for new fics

→ all that is gold (m)

Originally posted by chimtae


Sub!BTS collab

pairing → Taehyung x Reader

genre → roommate!au + sugar baby!au, smut, angst

warnings sub!taehyung, skype sex, masturbation, orgasm denial, possessiveness, slight breath play, oral sex, dirty talk, thigh riding, tae ends up sort of a switch? idk

☆ word count → 11.2k

☆ summary → As a college student struggling to make ends meet, Taehyung resorts to a less than ethical method to satisfy his appetite for expensive treats. The last thing he wants is for you to find out how he acquires the Gucci in his closet… however this proves to be difficult when you are his roommate.

or : Taehyung is a sugar baby and somehow thinks he can keep this a secret


☆ a/n → ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Keep reading

Von (Hope)

Þar sem gróir þar er von.
Allt sem græðir geymir von.

Listen to [x] while reading.

-

On the night of May 2nd 1998, Draco Malfoy lays awake on his bed.

It’s over. He’s dead. It’s over.” His mind chants. But is it?

A dark, hooded figure that hadn’t been there a second before stands on the edge of his bed, Malfoy starts. He grasps for his wand before realizing he hasn’t got one. The hooded figure chuckles, voice acidic and cold.

“You cheated me.” It says, Draco is frozen in place, searching his brain for whoever this might be. It can’t be the Dark Lord. He’s dead. Draco saw him die today. It can’t be.

“I’m Death.” It answers the question he hadn’t voiced, the knowledge brings a sense of Deja Vu, but he can’t quite place it “and no, I’m not here to take you with me.” he fails to conceal his disappointment. The room feels colder than it had.

“You were meant to die today, in the fire, but you didn’t.” The hairs on his body stand on edge at the mention of it. He’s shaking before he realizes it.

It had been so hot, he’d been gripping Potter’s waist like a lifeline, the fire licking at the hems of his pants, his screams drowned by the roar of the flames, Crabbe falling down and being consumed by them like he was nothing. He thought he’d die. He wishes he had.

“It was written on the stars, Draco Malfoy. However did you cheat the heavenly bodies?” It drawls out impatiently, he doesn’t know the answer. Is he supposed to?

“For this, however.” Death says, swishing it’s cloak, bony hands showing “I owe you a wish. Any wish at all.”

Draco’s eyes widen and his heart picks up speed in his chest. Any wish at all.

He suddenly remembers hearing a similar story to this one. Every bone in his body advices him not to accept, for Death could only be cunning and deceitful, not giving and generous.

Or perhaps Life was the first two and Death’s sweet release was the last. Perhaps life had been the cruel one all along. He dreams of a world where he doesn’t have to feel all of this, where the guilt doesn’t eat him alive, where he never takes the Dark Mark, where war doesn’t kill hundreds, where he’s happy.

He realizes that even if Death is fooling him, he doesn’t mind the likely outcome.

“I want a time turner” he says firmly “One capable of going back to 1991.” If Death is surprised, it doesn’t show it, it moves it’s hands in a swish and a time turner appears between them. It floats until it settles on Draco’s hand.

“Act wisely, Malfoy boy. For I can only grant you one wish.” It says, the ghost of a smile behind the dark hood. Then disappears.

Draco clutches the object and adjusts the time. He wonders if he’s in a dream, if it’ll work. Maybe he’s already dead and doesn’t know it, he doesn’t mind much. 

Doesn’t care to find out.

He closes his eyes and is launched into the paradox of time and space. He sees a colorless void and falls falls falls. His body small and insignificant in the never-ending space. Just when he’s starting to become fond of the quiet nothing and the soothing air touching his face, his stomach twists and he appears in a room that he knows too well. High ceilings and cool toned ancient furnitures. No feeling of home or coziness despite belonging to a child.

His childhood bedroom. If one could call it that.

He looks at the clock with a sharp twist and beneath the time, it reveals the date.

July 31st of 1991.

He almost can’t believe he has succeeded, but can’t dwell on his fear and excitement too long, for a small boy whom he knows too well and not at all stands at the foot of his bed, staring at him in horror. It’s a shock, seeing himself so full of life in the innocence of a child who doesn’t know what the future entails. A child with eager eyes and a prideful chest. Malfoy realizes he’s a ghost of what this child is.

“Who are you?” The small one shrieks. Draco presses a finger to his lips, shushing him. He’s grateful that the Manor is big enough for them not to be heard.

“I’m you. From the future.” young Draco flinches back and is about to start shouting again, before he seems to take in Draco’s features and connects them to an older version of himself. His eyes widen and Draco can see himself panic and glance around frantically, although also subtly, for an escape.

Slytherins. He thinks fondly.

“That’s not possible. Why-how are you here?” He demands.

“I have a story to tell you. But the first thing you need to know.” He swallows a lump in his throat “is that today you will be meeting a boy as you get fitted for your Hogwarts robes. I want you to change what you will say to him, for it’ll change how he sees you. It is extremely important that you do so.”

“Why? What do you mean? I don’t understand.” young Draco looks even more confused, of course he is.

Draco explains as much as he can and sugar coats what a child shouldn’t have to know. He attempts to explain to his own self that the opinions of his father are wrong, the small Draco tries to protest, but he doesn’t allow him to and continues telling him what’ll happen if he doesn’t listen carefully. By the end, his voice is hoarse and little Draco looks sick with fear. But he nods, seemingly understanding he has a duty to perform even if he doesn’t quite understand all of it it. Ah, the usual Malfoy, accepting what’s presented to him, born to please his elders, he thinks bitterly.

“Who’ll be the boy I’ll meet today?” His younger self asks tentatively when Draco is done talking and stands up. Draco smiles nostalgically as he adjusts the time again.

“I have put my faith in you, what you choose to do from now can change everything.” He says, and just as he feels the void sucking him in again, he says his last words to the last hope he’s got.

“And Draco, one last thing.” the kid nods “offer him your hand before you learn his name.”

-

where things grow, there is hope,
all that heals has hope.
 

ask me stuff !!!🌞☁️🌈

1.) what’s a song you depict with your childhood?
2.) did you have a memorable childhood pet?
3.) have you ever been drunk?
4.) have you ever tried drugs?
5.) have you ever completely regretted what you’ve said?
6.) have you ever made someone cry?
7.) has someone ever made you cry?
8.) have you ever been in love? if so, describe the moment you knew it.
9.) which came first the chicken or the egg?
10.) are you part of the lgbtq+ community? do you support them?
11.) how many siblings do you have?
12.) have you ever been in love with someone you couldn’t love?
13.) are you a good cook?
14.) what is your favorite tv show?
15.) what is the last movie you cried during?
16.) what are songs you’ve cried to when you first heard them? (if any)
17.) do you have a middle name?
18.) have you been out of your country?
19.) are you a chocolate fan or not?
20.) how many people have you kissed?
21.) what is your favorite album?
22.) what is your dream car?
23.) what is your lucky/favorite number?
24.) what is your favorite flower?
25.) books or movies, why?
26.) have you ever been on a blind date?
27.) has one of your friends ever backstabbed you?
28.) have you ever backstabbed one of your friends?
29.) what thing do you symbolize love with?
30.) do you have neat handwriting?
31.) do you have a friend with benefits?
32.) do you want a friend with benefits?
33.) if you could be anything in the world, what would you be?
34.) have you ever been blackout drunk?
35.) have you ever met someone famous?
36.) how many concerts have you been to?
37.) which concerts have you been to?
38.) do you have a hidden talent?
39.) what do you do when you’re stressed?
40.) do you think money can buy love?
41.) how old would you date?
42.) have you ever done something illegal?
43.) what is your biggest fear?
44.) what is an unusual fear you have?
45.) can you drive?
46.) do you believe in supernatural creatures?
47.) do you believe in karma?
48.) what is one quality you need in your partner?
49.) do looks matter?
50.) does size matter?
51.) who is the last person you forgave?
52.) what is your favorite ice cream flavor?
53.) what languages can you speak besides english?
54.) ever been on a plane?
55.) ever been on a boat?
56.) is there anyone you’ve lost touch with that you wish you hadn’t?
57.) are there any friendships you regret?
58.) are there any friendships you wish you could make?
59.) have you ever stayed awake for 24 (+) hours?
60.) have you ever walked outside after 12 am?
61.) have you ever seen a sunrise completely through?
62.) are you scared of rollercoasters?
63.) on a scale of 1-10 how stressed are you usually?
64.) do you have any plans this weekend?
65.) do you miss anyone right now?
66.) who do you wish you were talking to right now?
67.) if you could have any superpower, what would it be?
68.) who is your favorite superhero?
69.) are you dirty minded?
70.) what is your favorite song from every decade starting at that 80’s?
71.) how many kids, if any, do you want?
72.) who is your biggest OTP?
73.) what is your favorite food?
74.) do you want to be married one day?
75.) dogs or cats?
76.) do you drink enough water daily?
77.) have you ever seen a shooting star?
78.) if you had the opportunity to go to the moon, would you?
79.) how many best friends do you have?
80.) when was the last time you cried?
81.) have you ever laughed so hard you peed yourself?
82.) have you ever made anyone laugh so hard they peed?
83.) if you could travel any where in the world, where would you go?
84.) what are 3 words you would use to describe yourself?
85.) do you consider yourself a loyal person?
86.) what is your favorite season and why?
87.) have you ever told anyone you loved them, and didn’t mean it?
88.) do you know how to play any instruments?
89.) do like like falling asleep to music or not?
90.) what are you allergic to?
91.) have you ever wanted to be someone else for a day just so you could see what there life is like?
92.) if you could be any character from your favorite tv show would you, and if so, who would you be?
93.) if you could be best friends with any celebrity who would it be and why?
94.) are you outgoing?
95.) have you ever wanted to kiss someone, but weren’t brave enough to?
96.) are you a good flirt?
97.) have you ever been turned down, or have you ever turned anyone down?
98.) which planet is your favorite?
99.) are you superstitious?
100.) are you a good listener?
101.) are you a good kisser
102.) would you kiss any of your friends?

You’re In Love With Him But He Likes Your Best Friend: Part 3

Part 1

Part 2

Masterlist linked in bio


“Out!”

It’s the first thing Y/n wakes up to, Savannah’s outraged voice echoing along the walls of Y/n’s bedroom.

Y/n groans, squinting her eyes open at the sudden movement of her bed shaking wildly.

Savannah’s pulling the stranger out of Y/n’s bed, her merciless hands continuously pushing him out the bedroom door. He’s half awake, his slumberous daze making him scramble as he attempts to throw his clothes back on.

“Fuckin’ Jesus” the unknown man grumbles, his eyes still half closed from the immense amount of alcohol he consumed the previous night.

Savannah remains relentless, despite his attempt to get fully dressed. He even falls at one point, when he hops on one foot to get his leg through his jeans, but she doesn’t stop for a second.

You, get out of here!” she demands, her hand giving him one last shove out the door before she slams it shut.

Y/n groans again, her sensitivity to anything other than complete darkness and silence making her throw the duvets over her head and bury her face in her pillow. She’s well aware that she has to embrace the very few seconds she has of total peace and quiet before Savannah begins to lecture her for the irresponsibility she just walked into.

She’s only able to reunite with darkness for a split second before Savannah pulls the covers completely off of her, bringing her back into the horrifying sunlight.

Y/n falls off the bed, letting out a groan as her still slightly intoxicated body makes contact with the wooden floor. Her hungover state is making it nearly impossible to figure out the chaos unraveling in the room; all she can really understand is the pounding in her head and the burning in her eyes every time she exposes them from their lids.

She rolls over onto her back, huffing as her fingers dig into her eyelids. She coughs, her abrupt movements making her stomach flip with every turn she makes. She’s given no time to recover before Savannah rips her arms away from her face, gripping onto her wrists as she pulls Y/n off of the floor.

“What the fuck is going on here, Y/n?!” Savannah yells, eyes glaring at Y/n’s very, very hungover stance.

Y/n nearly trips over her own two feet as she attempts to balance herself after Savannah harshly pulled her up from her collapsed figure. If she had the capability to answer back, she would have, but she’s still fucked up from last night and can barely stomach the sunlight seeping in from the curtains.

“Is this what you’ve been up to?!” Savannah spits, angry laughter tying into her words, “Is this the kind of shit you’ve been doing while cutting everyone off?! Sleeping with random guys?!”

The last thing Savannah expected to see was Y/n in bed with a half-naked man and empty bottles of alcohol scattered across her bedroom floor. It was extremely rare for Y/n to carelessly consume alcohol and have consistent one night stands. Savannah’s witnessed her go through these phases only a handful of times throughout their friendship, all of which stemmed from Y/n’s toxic intolerance of being alone.

She should have seen this coming, though. After finding out she’s been in a relationship with someone Y/n was in love with, the first thing she should have done was check up on her. But there was so much fear holding her back, so much guilt preventing her from confronting her about it.

She wouldn’t know exactly what to say, or how to say it, without making it sound like she was the shittiest friend in the world. She had a feeling Y/n had feelings for Harry, considering she had mentioned him a plethora of times once she met him.

And Savannah still took it upon herself to date Harry, for her own selfish reasons. She never thought that it was the potential reason Y/n was so distant. That thought was the last one in the back of her head, completely throwing her off guard when she found out.

She’s tried to reach out to her multiple times, only to be deliberately ignored and shut down. After a while, she figured all Y/n wanted was space, so she stopped trying for a couple days.

But nothing stopped Harry. He’d spend hours knocking on her front door, on his knees, begging for her to speak to him. He’d call her when he wasn’t near her, because he had driven himself crazy knowing he never told Y/n what he needed to tell her so urgently.

Y/n knew—she knew just how much effort he was putting into seeing her again. She heard him, every day, through her front door, but she never knew what to do. The constant fear that Harry didn’t feel the same way back was all the convincing she needed to never speak to him again.

There’s only so much her heart could break, and she didn’t know how many more times it could before she finally snapped.

Y/n grips her head as she squints her eyes shut, hissing at the throbbing in her head when Savannah’s voice booms throughout the room. The overwhelming migraine taking over Y/n’s head practically forces her to sit on the edge of her bed, the palm of her hands still digging into her eyes.

“Not cutting anyone off,” Y/n mumbles, grumbling when she opens her eyes properly to look at Savannah, “I’m just adjusting.”

It isn’t a lie. Her intention wasn’t to ignore them, not at all. But as time went on, the more her emotions started becoming fragile; one wrong sight would have made her break.

And as stupid as it sounds, having sex was the only time she felt wanted after Harry and Savannah started dating. Even if it was in a drunken state, even if it was just purely for physical pleasure, the hours spent with random men were the only moments she felt purpose.

It was also her biggest distraction. Having one night stands was her emotional outlet, her way of letting out all of her emotions without actually doing so. It sure as hell was better than being alone—anything was.

Savannah sighs, shaking her head softly as she kneels eye level to her. She’d never seen her like this before, so lost and broken. She would have lectured her further if she wanted to because she had every right to smack some sense into her. But after all this time, after all the pain she could only imagine Y/n going through, could she really do that to her? Could she really blame her for doing this to herself?

“Y/n,” she rubs her legs, “I have been the shittiest, most horrible friend to you. I was so selfish and so inconsiderate, and I don’t blame you for not speaking to me these past couple days. But, Y/n, this—” her hands gesture around the horrendous state of her bedroom, “this isn’t adjusting. Having drunk sex isn’t going to rid your feelings for Harry. You’re suppressing your emotions, you’re running away. That’s what you’re doing.”

Y/n’s lips begin to quiver as her eyes well with tears; the first time she’s truly cried since the night she saw Harry at Lexi’s. Savannah feels somewhat relieved when she sees the tears falling from Y/n’s eyes. It isn’t a familiar sight to see, but it shows her that she’s actually accepting what she’s been hiding all along.

“You have to talk to me. I don’t care if you yell at me, Y/n. I don’t care what you do to me, but you have to talk to me. You have to show me something. I can’t be hearing about your feelings from Harry, that’s not fair for anyone.”

“What was I supposed to say?” Y/n whispers, her words breaking beneath cries she so desperately wishes she could stop.

But there’s no going back now. The alcohol is still running in her system and she’s reacting instinctively. There is nothing holding her back, not now.

“How was I supposed to tell him that I was in love with him when I knew he didn’t feel the same way? And how was I supposed to tell you anything about him when I knew this would end up happening anyways?! And what was I supposed to say to the both of you when you both decided to take it upon yourselves to flirt in front of me?!

By now, Y/n’s blood is starting to boil. The words coming out of her mouth are laced with venom, her sudden shift in mood making Savannah swallow thickly. But everything in her is operating a million miles an hour, her words coming out faster than her brain can register. She doesn’t even remember standing up from the bed while she paces around her bedroom, empty bottles rolling around the wooden floor.

“Because no matter what I would have done, it would have ended the same! The way it always does, Savannah! The way it always ends with you getting what I want, even if I want it more—“

“Y/n—"

“Even if I need it! You still get it!”

The harshness in her voice is replaced by violent cries, her words drowned in uncontrollable sobs.

The pain is all over. Everything she’s attempted to numb is now all hitting her at once. All the loneliness, all the anger, all the hurt she’s been burying is now reaching the surface. She can barely breathe, all of the emotions suffocating her, squeezing against her throat.

Savannah is quick to embrace her shaken body, shushing her as her hands rub up and down her back.

A part of her always knew she was the reason Y/n’s love life was barely existent. Although Y/n never admitted it, she drops hints at it every so often. She did notice how all of Y/n’s high school crushes ended up liking her instead, and did notice how whenever Y/n tried to date, she would barely mention them to her. It was as if she was hiding them from her, completely intimidated that Savannah would take away her only chance at a relationship.

And Savannah can’t shake the horrible feeling she has when Y/n admits all of it to her.

Y/n buries her face in her shoulder, her tears soaking through her t-shirt. She wishes she could hold a grudge against Savannah, but she doesn’t have the heart to blame her for anything that’s happened. Everything is because of Y/n, everything happening is because of her fear of emotions and every bit of her has no one else to blame.

“I need him.” Y/n sobs into her shoulder, her hands tugging at the ends of her shirt for some sort of release.

“I need him so much. And I hate it—I hate that I do so m—much.”

“Oh, Y/n.” Savannah kisses her temple, holding her higher against her.

She knows how much Y/n needs him, and knows now more than ever. She was her happiest when she first met him, she was almost an entirely different person. But now, after everything that’s happened, Savannah has never seen her more of a wreck than she is in this moment.

“Let’s sit you down, you need to breathe.”

Y/n whimpers as she’s placed back on the bed, Savannah reminding her to breathe every couple of seconds. She looks at Y/n with sadness in her eyes, comforting her whenever she needs it most.  

“He needs you, too, you know.” Savannah sighs, shaking her head as she takes Y/n’s fidgeting hands into hers.

“I never noticed it until you distanced yourself from us. He didn’t open up to me the way he should have, never talked to me the way he had with you. When I asked him about it—asked him why he wasn’t communicating with me properly, he always mentioned you.”

Y/n flutters her eyes shut, pursing her lips with the slight possibility that Harry may actually feel the same way towards her. There was always a part of her that fully believed the only reason he’s tried so hard to reach her was because he felt guilty for hurting her so much.

But knowing that there’s a chance in Harry reciprocating feelings gives Y/n an overwhelming sensation she’s ever experienced before. It’s the first time in a while there’s a particular type of warmth in her chest, and she swears she begins to tear up from the bit of happiness she’s been missing.

“He would tell me that you were the only one he truly felt comfortable around. Even confessed you were the only one he’d ever be able to talk to, even if we were in a relationship. He was going absolutely mental.”

Savannah sweeps the pad of her thumb under Y/n’s eye, catching the few extra tears that are overflowing. She smiles weakly at her in reassurance, raking her knotted hair between her fingers.

“No matter how much he claimed to like me, he loved you. He’ll always love you. And even when he was completely oblivious, I know now that, deep down, he was always yours. He was never really mine, no matter how much we all thought differently.”

Y/n nods slowly, a small smile tugging at her lips when she hears Savannah’s words. It’s the first sense of hope she’s felt in a while, and it almost completely rids the pain. Almost.

“I’m sorry for ruining your relationship, though. I kind of feel like this is all my fault.”

Savannah laughs softly, finding it almost completely unbelievable that Y/n always finds a way to apologize, even when things aren’t her fault.

“Are you serious, Y/n? Nobody, including me, can love that man half as much as you do. I ruined your relationship. You barely had anything to ruin.”

She runs her hands through Y/n’s hair one last time before patting her shoulder, a smirk growing on her face as she stands up from her kneeling position.

“Now, up you go. I believe you have to talk to someone who’s been dying to see you.”


It’s when Y/n is about to walk out of her door, freshly showered with a new change of clothes, ready to face Harry when she realizes she never said it.

She never fully told Harry she loves him, not when he was conscious, at least. She had felt it for so long, it has taken over her for so long, yet she never told him how she felt. It almost makes her wonder if it’s the reason why he’s been trying so hard for her.

He needs to hear her say it.

“It’s not hard.” She mumbles to herself as she unlocks her front door.

“Not hard, I just have to fucking sa—”

“Y/n!” Harry breathes out, springing from his position on the ground up to his feet.

He twitches when he instinctively brings his hand up to reach for her, but he holds himself back. He isn’t quite sure how far he’ll allow her to go, but if it were up to him, every part of her would be against him. Every single part.

She sucks in a breath, not expecting to see him waiting on her doorstep, and certainly not expecting him to seem so relieved to see her.

“H—Harry,” she whispers hesitantly, “what are you—“

“I’m sorry!” He stutters, interrupting her before she has a chance to finish asking her question.

“I know how inappropriate it is of me to just sit on your doorstep so unexpectedly but I knew Savannah was coming and I thought that maybe this would be the only time I’d get to see you and I was going to come in but some guy came running out of here and I didn’t want to get in between your time with Savannah so I just figured I’d wait until you came back out but I wasn’t sure if you ever would so I just figured I'd—“

He stops rambling when he feels Y/n’s hand on his cheek, her eyes looking at him with so much tenderness he swears his heart melts.

“Catch your breath, Harry.” She mumbles, rubbing her thumb along his cheek, “Just take a breath.”

He inhales sharply as he closes his eyes, turning his head so that her hand is against his lips. He kisses her palm softly before she moves it to play with his unbrushed hair.

His eyes flutter shut at her touch, his body almost completely melting into her. He feels his weakest now more than ever, and he’s never been more relieved to be this close to her again.

“Who was he, Y/n?” he whispers.

“The guy, who ran out of here, who was he?“

As much of a coward as it makes him, the thought of her in bed with someone else physically and mentally pains him more so than he’s ever expected. His head swims with thoughts of her naked, trembling, crying as she devotes her love to some other man, and the more he thinks about it, the more sick his stomach feels.

“Have I been trying for nothing? Have I been wasting my time?”

How could you ever doubt my love for you? is the first thought that comes to her. How could you ever question how much I love you?

Instead of saying the words right at the tip of her tongue, her eyes crease inward, slightly shaking her head as she scrapes her fingertips delicately against his scalp.

“I don’t know, Harry.” she whispers honestly, “I don’t know who he is.”

He nods softly, but nothing in her answer reassures him. He knows there is no other explanation for a guy to run out of her house at nine in the morning without a shirt on.

“May I come in? Wanna talk.” He asks tentatively.

“Of course you can.”

Silence falls between them as they both claim spots on opposite sides of the room. 

There’s a tension in the room they both can’t seem to shake, an unaddressed barrier between them making it nearly impossible to find an appropriate way to start a conversation.

Harry’s the first one to break the silence, however, after a few minutes past of each of them refusing to make any eye contact with each other. 

“Were you ever going to tell me?”

The question caught Y/n’s attention quickly, her head that was once resting in the palm of her hand now up on its own, a small “hm?” parting past her lips.

She’s acting dumb even though she knows exactly what he’s talking about. She just isn’t prepared to answer him, not in the way he wants her to.

“That you’re in love with me. Were you ever going to tell me?”

She shrugs, her teeth biting her bottom lip as she tears her gaze away from his. She isn’t used to confrontation, especially when it involves her emotions. It’s one of her weaknesses, but there’s absolutely no way around this one. Even if there was, she wouldn’t have the audacity to take it. He deserves to know—everything this time.

“I told you before.”

Harry’s jaw clenches, eyes narrowing as he looks at her from across the room. No, he may have been oblivious about her feelings in the beginning, but he sure as hell would never have forgotten it if she told him how she felt.

“Bullshit!” He scoffs. “You didn’t tell me shit! We wouldn’t be here right now if you had told me!”

She sighs, her cheek laying right back down in the palm of her hand, almost as if shying away from him.

“Well, it’s just—you were sleeping.”

Harry stands from his place on the couch, face scrunching in aggravation as his hands rub up and down his face.

“You’re kidding me, right? You have to be fucking kidding me right now!”

His fingers harshly grip the roots of his hair before stomping is way towards her. If he doesn’t get any answers out of her, he swears he’ll lose his goddamn mind.

His hands grip the sides of her face, squeezing her jaw between his hands as he looks at her bewildered.

“I need answers, Y/n. I don’t think you understand how many fucking answers I need right now.”

He speaks through clenched teeth and a tightened jaw, frustration boiling in his blood as she gives him the outright most ambiguous and outrageous answers he’s ever heard in his life.

Y/n places her hands on top of his, her fingernails digging gently into his skin. Despite the harshness of his stare, this is the first time she’s seen him in weeks, and she still finds him to be the most beautiful sight she’s ever seen.

“It was the night after I drove you back from Lexi’s, when you and Savannah were kind of going through that rough patch.”

He falls to his knees in between her legs, an almost unnoticeable smile tugging at his lips from the memories of that night. Because although Savannah had left him by himself, he had a night with Y/n that changed him forever.

"You fell asleep on me, after you told me you were still going to fight for her. That was probably one of the worst things you could have said to me, but you didn’t know, and I was angry at myself for not telling you sooner. I didn’t know how else to tell you unless you were—you were sleeping.”

His hand reaches up to her lips, his thumb tracing along the outlines of her mouth once she’s done speaking. No matter how much she confuses him, and no matter how fucking angry she makes him, he wouldn’t want to be staring at anybody else right now.

“I loved you then, too” he whispers, “I didn’t know it. I didn’t know anything until you left me. I knew you meant everything to me, I knew you were the only one I trusted so deeply. But the second I lost you, I felt empty.”

He presses his forehead against her collar bones, her heart beating quickly against his neck. She sighs, her fingers intertwining with his against her lap as her hips slide more towards the edge, her knees supporting the sides of his chest.

“Didn’t matter that I had Savannah. She was lovely, don’t get me wrong, but she wasn’t you. I tried so hard to make myself believe I was just missing you as a friend, but there was nothing that convinced me.”

His tearful eyes looked into hers, both chuckling slightly at their current state. They’re both crying, both their hearts racing in their chests. If someone were to tell them now that there’s a feeling even remotely close to how beautiful they feel now, together, they wouldn’t have believed it for a second.

Y/n wipes away the loose tears on his cheeks while she sniffles, giggling softly at how stupid they probably look.

“I’ve always loved you, Harry,” she whispers, “there’ll never be a time that I stop. No matter how hard I try, my love for you is stronger.”

It’s when the words fall from her lips that Harry realizes all he needed was for her to hear her say it. Her voice is so sweet as she says it, too, and her eyes leave no trace out doubt when she looks into him.

He tries to hold back the irresistible urge to kiss her, but it’s completely impossible. His lips press feverishly against hers, both of them releasing moans at just how right it feels to be kissing one another. Their kiss isn’t the slightest bit romantic. It’s harsh, it’s desperate, it’s messy but it’s just what they need.

Harry crawls on top of her, his hands on every part of her they can touch. He groans when he feels her nails scratch down his back, leaving her giggling underneath him.

“Mine.” He growls, his thumb putting pressure right underneath her chin.

He admires her face, the glorious look of her swollen lips, wet eyes, and pink cheeks. It’s the most beautiful sight he’s ever seen. A soft whimper leaves her lips, craving nothing more than to feel his lips against hers again.

“These lips are mine. All of you—all of you is mine. No other fucking wanker gets you the way I do.”

She smirks, her eyes half-lidded.

“‘m not allowed to sleep with random guys but you’re allowed to fuck my best friend?”

He presses his lips against her again, his hands brushing loose strands of hair away from her face as he does so.

“Never fucked her,” He mumbles against her lips, “couldn’t get you off my mind.”

Y/n rolls over so that she’s on top of Harry, her legs on either side of his waist as her hands roam his chest through his t-shirt. He looks priceless like this, weak and breathless underneath her as her hands grip the sides of his face.

“The prettiest man I’ve ever seen.”

He blushes, his bottom lip in between his teeth as he sends her the biggest grin she’s ever seen on him. His eyes are full of love, too, and Y/n swears every breath she had the chance to take has been knocked right out of her.

“Nobody makes me feel the way you do, Y/n. Nobody.

off limits | 03 (m)

pairing: kim seokjin x reader
genre/warnings: slight angst, smut, dirty talk, dom! Jin
words: 10,930
summary: you’ve been lusting after your brother’s best friend for a while now, ever since you met him at a house party, flirting it up a storm as you failed to realise who the other was. That was months ago now and things are still awkward, but you can’t ignore the sexual tension that’s simmers between the two of you…and it keeps getting worse…

» playlist | 01 | 02 | 03 |

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Powerful: Pringles Has Unveiled A Line Of Damp Chips That Won’t Crunch Loud Enough To Ruin A Moment Of Silence For Our Fallen Soldiers

If you’re looking for a company that really cares about the troops, look no further than Pringles.

Few people deserve more respect and adoration than the heroes who willingly sacrifice their lives to protect America’s freedom, and no one knows that better than Pringles, which is stepping up for the troops in a big way: The snack-manufacturing powerhouse just introduced a new line of damp chips that won’t crunch loud enough to ruin a moment of silence for our fallen soldiers.

Wow. What a powerful way to help customers show respect for the troops!

According to Pringles executives, the new line of chips will come in the same essential flavors customers have come to love, but will be presoaked inside the Pringles tube, making the chips just damp enough to replace any crunching sounds that would disrupt a somber rendition of “Taps” with a gentle, muffled sloshing. Through extensive testing, these mushier chips have been shown to be so quiet that, when eaten, it is virtually impossible to make enough noise to ruin a moment of silence for a fallen soldier.

With the new product, which they’re calling Patriot’s Discretion Pringles, customers will now be able to pull out a few wet chips, place the damp snack onto their tongues or pack it into their cheeks, and let their favorite flavors melt into their mouths, all without the fear of bringing a hero’s memorial to a screeching halt with a single, booming bite.

Patriotism FTW!

“Everyone wishes they could be eating chips when they’re at a service commemorating a fallen solider, but up until now, it’s just been way too loud,” said Pringles CEO Michael A. Powell at an event unrolling their newest product. “Before, the best you could do was settle for something quiet like mints or gum, but those bland, flavorless days of quiet respect are now a thing of the past.”

“We at Pringles know how important it is to remember those who have sacrificed their lives to protect the American way,” he added. “And now, with our line of damp Patriot’s Discretion Pringles, there is finally a way to do it without sacrificing your hunger.”

Amazing. It looks like Pringles is a company that isn’t about to let customers ruin a moment of silence, but isn’t about to let them go hungry either. Whether you’re at a veteran’s funeral, halftime at a local high school football game, or even the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, the days of having to choose between tossing back a couple Pringles or paying tribute to a fallen service member seem to be over. Here’s to hoping more companies begin showing the same commitment to our troops that Pringles does!

anonymous asked:

PROMPT Winn and Kara go to Build a Bear

“This is ridiculous,” Alex huffs. She wears sunglasses and a hoodie, skulking behind her sister and Winn.

“No it’s not!” Kara says, “It’s cute and romantic and you’re coming along whether you like it or not.”

“We are three grown people -grown. people - shopping at Build-A-Bear in the middle of broad daylight on a Monday morning. It’s ridiculous and embarrassing.”

“Told you we shoulda blindfolded and kidnapped her,” Winn mumbles and Alex laughs at him, flicking him in the ear.

“You wish you could kidnap me,” Alex threatens, and Kara shushes them both.

“You will not ruin Build-A-Bear day for me, Alex Danvers. I’ve been planning this for weeks and you owe me one! Remember what happened last time we tried to come?”

“I exploded a bear with too much stuffing,” Alex grumbles, rolling her eyes. “Fine! But let’s make this quick! I have a reputation to uphold, and this could ruin me.”

They enter the store, Kara squealing, Winn with a look of wonder on his features, Alex still trying to hide her face from any possible security cameras.

“Welcome to Build-A-Bear, how can I help you?” the worker greets, matching Kara’s bright smile with an unabashed grin of her own.

“We’re making bears!” Kara says. “Mine’s for my boyfriend, hers is for her girlfriend, and Winn’s just here for fun.” She doesn’t notice the blush in Winn’s cheeks, but she doesn’t care. It’s bear time.

The lady walks them through picking out a bear and putting a heart inside.

“You have to make a wish on the heart, that’s the rule.” she says, and Alex stares daggers at her. Kara squeezes her eyes shut and mumbles something into the small fabric heart in her hand. Winn, too, whispers something into his hand, and Alex swears she can hear the name ‘Jack’. Alex refuses to whisper a wish into the heart, that’s unnecessary and childish.

(It doesn’t stop her from thinking her wish, though. I wish we’re together forever.)

Alex chooses an outfit for the bear in about thirty seconds, a small policeman’s outfit that is perfect for Maggie. She can’t stop the small smile that creeps onto her face as she dresses the bear.

Winn chooses fairly quickly as well. He can’t decide between the science bear outfit or the blue Power Ranger suit. In the end, Alex quietly suggests, while Kara is distracted, that Jack would like the blue Power Ranger wearing a lab coat, or maybe he’d like anything because Winn is the one giving it to him. 

(Winn doesn’t talk to Alex for the rest of the day. He also takes her suggestion.)

Kara takes forever to decide. She goes between piecing together a Mini James, to a fireman, to a million other things. Then she spots it. And loses her mind.

“Do you get it, Alex? Do you get it though? He’s dating Supergirl and the Build-A-Bear is Wonder Woman! Get it, Alex? It’s hilarious!”

“Kara, if you don’t hurry up I’ll tase you again.”

“Pfft, please. That barely hurt the first time.”

“Kara!”

By the time she gets home, Alex is exhausted. Between the mental anguish of being forced to Build-A-Bear, and shepherding Kara around the grocery store afterwards, it’s been a long day.

“Hey, Babe,” Maggie calls from the living room. She hears Alex groan. “Long day?”

“Kids are gonna be a walk in the park after dealing with Kara,” Alex tells her with a small smile. Maggie just laughs.

“I got you a present,” Alex says as she sees Maggie sprawled out on the couch. She hands her the blue box.

“Oh my god!” Maggie almost squeals, “you’re too cute, Danvers.”

“Kara dragged me along, so I thought I might as well.” Maggie opens her present and pulls out the miniature cop-bear. She holds it close to her chest, snuggling into it. 

“I love it, Alex,” Maggie says, leaning over and giving her a kiss. “She’s adorable.” Maggie inspects the fake birth certificate that accompanies the bear. “Her name is Gertrude??”

“That’s Officer Gertrude to you,” Alex replies. “The best news is, if she needs to go undercover she can just borrow one of your leather jackets. You guys are about the same size.”

“You ruined it. Now you’re sleeping on the couch tonight,” Maggie tells her, still holding Gertrude close to her chest.

“But this is my apartment!”

“I don’t care.”

Teach Me - Stuart Twombly

Author: @mf-despair-queen

Characters: Stuart Twombly/Reader

Word Count: 7399

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Mention of Oral (both receiving), Actual Oral (female receiving), Orgasm Denial, Public Sex, Hate Sex

Notes: I procrastinated a lot on this all week. So I’m sorry. But can I say I’m kind of proud about how his came out? I hope ya’ll like it. 

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