#the corner and we just look at each other like 👁👄👁

[1eeminho]

story time with sari 😀

[qqtxt]

omgomgomg i cant let this thought go help meee but imagine the cliché bad dream trope with txt specifically the one where reader wakes up from a bad dream where the dream version of bf!txt was cheating on them then they wake up and get angry at irl txt lmao (im not really thinking angst but lighthearted and soft hours)

*smacks them awake with a pillow*"WHO IS SHE?!"

Them: 👁👄👁 "Babe I just woke up wdym..."

oh my goodness this is too real. i have done something similar to my bf before and he's really just 💧👁👄👁💧 this made me giggle so i just had to write a little something! I'm still a little stumped with my studies but i really wanted to write something out so this is a bit short and not really proofread! so apologies in advance but i do hope it's okay! 💖

[🌸] bitter dream, sweet reality w/ txt

✿ pairing: ot5 x reader / fluff, crack 🌸🤡 / idol!txt / non.idol!you / soobin and yeonjun get roasted for nothing ✿ mini-fics with each member for the same situation / less than 400 words for each member / altogether, word count: 1,591 words ✿ in which you dreamt that he cheated on you and you smack their face with a pillow [masterlist 🌸] / other members under the cut!

[🐰] soobin  soobin lets out a whine when he feels a smack to the face. as he opens his eyes, he flinches when he notices you're already looking at him with a frown on your face. the worry overtakes him too quickly as he sits up, hands to your shoulders, "hey... you okay?"

"how can you ask that when you did what you did?" you mutter under your breath, looking away from him with a huff. he gapes, blinking a couple of times to recuperate. 

"i-i just–what did i–"

"you cheated on me. in my dream. you suck."

initially, soobin's stumped. listening to your words, he was ready to apologise until he realises that–"wait, in your dream? i cheated? on you?" he chuckles when the words sink in, and he watches how you cross your arms in front of your chest. "you can't be serious, right? why would i ever cheat on you?"

when you press your lips to a thin line and refuse to look at him, he takes it as his cue to–"ah..." he hums softly, relenting as he wraps his arms around you. it was easy enough to curl you in given that he makes use of his figure; effectively nudging you towards him and engulfing you in his embrace. "i apologise on behalf of dream soobin, but real life soobin won't ever do that," he gives you a gentle shake, "hm?"

"hm," you nod, putting your arms around him to snuggle closer towards him. sure, you might've hit soobin in the face with the pillow but the way he's able to hug you like this might've been all the more worth it as he smiles into the side of your face like a hopeless romantic.

[🦊] yeonjun yeonjun nearly falls off the bed as he comes to wake from the hit to the face. he can't quite believe he's woken up just from a hit but when he snaps his eyes open and turns to the side, he's a mumbling fish.

"what?! who? what's going on?" he frantically looks around, and then he spots you sitting up with a pillow in your hands, nearly looking like you're about to squish it to death. "yah..." he murmurs, a hand reaching out to you but his brows furrow when you dodge his touch, "what's wrong?"

"you cheated on me."

his eyes visibly widen as he swallows.

"me? when?"

"in my dream. last night. i don't like you."

he didn't intend to but you make it very, very hard not to smile. the corner of his lips already tug upwards at the thought of you being frustrated at the fact you thought he would cheat on you, or even comprehend that.

"look at me, please?" he tries to reach out to you and this time he manages to put a hand on the pillow you're holding. he tugs at it and you let go of the pillow so he can put it back next to him as he puts his hands in yours to give a squeeze. "c'mon now, the quicker you look at me, the faster we can go back to sleep."

you reluctantly look at him and that's when you see it. the way his eyes look at you with love, overflowing with warmth. the way he's so infatuated with you that he couldn't ever, possibly do it.

"how could i ever cheat on you when i get to look at you look at me like this? do i need to run up to the rooftop to profess my love to you to the entire world? because i would, let me just grab my slippers and–"

you make a noise that crosses between a whine and grumble, squeezing his hands. that alone was enough for yeonjun to be able to get you to lie down next to him as he cuddles you in bed until you fall asleep with a smile on both of your faces.

[🐯] beomgyu  beomgyu merely groans at the soft plush feeling he feels on his face. he doesn't bother opening his eyes, only reaching out blindly until he hooks his arm around what feels like your waist and he pulls. he whines a little when you don't oblige it makes him peel one eye open to see you frowning at him. instinctively, he shrugs it off and shifts closer towards you instead, nuzzling against the side of your arm, "what time is it? it still looks dark to be awake..."

when he doesn't hear a response, he huffs and opens his eyes, now noticing the way you're still frowning.

"nawh... what's wrong? can't sleep?"

"i was peacefully sleeping until you decided to cheat on me in my dream."

his first instinct is to laugh, then drag poor, innocent yeonjun into this.

"the day i ever cheat on you is the day that yeonjun-hyung turns into a bird,"

"..."

"...okay, not funny. but look at me," he sits up on his elbows, turning to look at you properly even though he has crust in his eyes and he looks like he needs to sleep for another year and a half. "i'm so hopelessly in love with you that i still feel like i don't see you enough,"

"i'm with you every night," you counter, with a scoff of laugh that he holds onto with a grin, "exactly," he nods. "so how can i possibly cheat on you?"

when you don't respond, he knows he's won when he's able to lay back down and lure you into his arms.

"better?" he hums, burying his face in your neck as you cuddle against his chest, as he moulds into your back with a sigh. "better."

[🐿] taehyun  taehyun's half-sleepy, half-confused when he wakes up from the fluff of a pillow that greets him awake. it takes him a while to process that okay, i'm awake and to notice that oh, you're the one who woke me up when he notices the pillow in your hands, a frown etched to your lips, brows furrowed. he sighs and sits up, tilting his head at you, "can't sleep?"

you keep silent, fidgeting with the pillow that taehyun shakes his head.

"c'mon, pretty thing. i can't help unless you tell me what's wrong," he shifts a little closer, placing a hand on top of yours, lifting his brows just a little on instinct, "hm?"

he sees how your features change in the dark and he shouldn't laugh but he does when you're all pouty and sulky.

"you're a cheater, kang taehyun."

"me?" he snorts, giving your hands a squeeze, "since when?"

"since last night, in my dream."

you watch as your words seep into his brain, and it shows on his face when his lips turn from an 'o' to a small smile.

"that's not fair, now is it? i can't control dream taehyun, but at least i can control real-life taehyun," he moves to wedge his hand between yours and grips onto one of it, his thumb brushing the back of your hand, "and real-life taehyun would never do that to you."

"promise?" you know you sound childish, maybe even a little irrational but it's the way taehyun nods with such firmness and genuity, even locking pinkies with you that makes you feel at ease, "promise."

[🐧] kai kai is the definition of clueless and flustered upon being smacked to wake with a pillow to the face. though, he's surprisingly not as panicky as imagined when he sits up with a sharp intake of breath, eyes rapidly blinking as he adjusts to the darkness of the room and calls for your name softly.

"are you okay?" he mutters, rubbing his eyes as he sits up, half-lidded.

"no, because you," with another pillow hit to the chest, he oofs back onto the bed despite trying to sit up, "cheated on me."

he remains laying down on the bed, moving his hand from his eyes with a chuckle.

"what's so funny?" you huff, nudging him with your weapon (pillow).

"me cheating on you is like saying soobin-hyung willingly signed a gym membership."

"...do you think this is funny?"

"y/n," he sits up, testing the waters to see if you'd hit him again but when you lower your weapon down, he smiles at you so sweetly, it's making you feel a little guilty for waking him up like this and he's still so sweet to you. "i literally flew back ten hours just so i can be with you for two days before i'd have to leave again. i'd still do it again and again because i love you so much. do you think i'd cheat on you?"

"then why'd you cheat on me in my dream?"

he shrugs, "i can't answer that. that's not me."

when you don't say anything, he sighs and peels the pillow from your hands so he can place it back on the bed. then, he crawls over to you, wrapping his arms around you to carefully lure you back to where you belong; in his arms, side by side in bed.

"you don't actually think i'll cheat on you, do you?" he murmurs, rubbing your stomach as he hooks his chin on your shoulder.

you shake your head and lean back to his touch, "no, but it felt real. and i didn't like that feeling..."

"mm..." he hums, "that doesn't sound like it feels nice. but do you feel a bit better now?"

you nod, lapping your hands over his as your eyes close, "yeah, much better now."

[not-goldy]

https://www.tumblr.com/seoul-bros/733369077839642624/hyung-a-red-line-means-love?source=share

Why do you think Jimin laughed out loud when yg said he want to get red line tattoo? He found it funny that men want to be connected by a tattoo representing love ? Pretty homophobic of him tbh.

Homophobic and Park Jimin in one sentence sounds oxymoronic if you ask me.

Jimin is the leader of the Mens liberation movement in BTS. He is the one member who consistently opposes toxic male gender ideologies.

Taemin recently explained how he and Jimin are similar in that their androgy allows them to embody both masculine and feminine identities in their performances.

He's the member who showed BTS it is okay for men to give each other gifts wear rings on their pinkies without that being gay or weird and his constant shipping of Jin and Namjoon and himself and Jungkook as a couple should imply he is not repulsed by the idea of men loving eachother.

He's constantly pushing for BTS to allow themselves to be emotionally vulnerable with each other, share intimacy, say I love you to one another without feeling weirded out by that.

But I also understand that us queers can internalized homophobia and we can be the strongest homophobic individuals and threat to each other especially when we don't live in out truth.

I can't tell if you are coming from a place of wanting to objectively discuss these pertinent issues or you just throwing out words out of spite or to prove you think Jm is straight ergo homophobic and that he hates gay people.

Because he can't find it funny that men want to get tattoos representing love when he's fond of wearing tattoos representing love and devine femininity.

He is the goddess of love. The perfect blend of masculine and feminine energies.

The crescent tattoos, jewelry, channeling Artemis, venus, Appolo and he dares to make fun of another man channeling his inner love is just wild to me.

If he laughed its because he has a sense of humor.

He laughed because yoongi said that with a straight face.

He laughed because Yoongi is hilarious

He laughed because he laughs at everything

He laughed because- well I would have laughed too that shit pretty gay😭😭😭😭😭😭

I mean if you are a man and want to get a red line tattoo on your pinkie with your home boys you should totally go for it. Power to you honey. Best bros 4 life

I guess I'm homophobic too then shit cos I'm rolling off the floor 😭😭😭🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

Most of the time, my reaction when BTS does any gay shit is to laugh. Wait, same as Jimin🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

No, but the fact that he clocks the gay shit they do faster than anybody in there sends me too🤣🤣🤣

BTS personal gay detector Park Jimin.

Most people, especially Korean people, will do shit without even clocking it comes off as gay- But Park Jimin KNOWS. HE KNOWS.

Jungkook was in the corner busy trying to substitute red for purple like purple would fix the gay

Bet at the tattoo shop he looked confused when they told him he can't put J above the M on his finger because that comes off as gay.

His shook pickachu face 👁👄👁

B-b-but it's JM. I could be JM you never know😭🤧

Sure clown. You are Jm I a n MR AB JK Sty

This was literally Jikook in that live. 2 gays in a pod

And it seems you don't know this but Yoongi himself found it preposterous when he was directly asked the gay question in an interview😔

He made it seem it was ridiculous for two men to be in a relationship 🙄

So no, Jimin laughing is not homophobic towards him. Because Yoongi isn't gay.

[pedrito-friskito]

a time for sinners and a time for saints - matt murdock x vigilante!reader

summary: there’s someone in your city, and it turns out to be more interesting than you bargained for.

warnings: mentions of canon-typical violence, heavy petting, fingering, cursing, etc.

a/n: @saintmurd0ck sent me a request about matt x vigilante!reader and my brain went 👁👄👁 so here have some more

murdock tags: @moonlarking

(series masterlist) (main masterlist) (ao3)

Someone’s in your city.

On the streets below, taxis shuffle through the one-ways and intersections, horns honking at all hours, people yelling from corners, conversation lifting to the skies. Street vendors and black market dealers, musicians tapping on bucket drums and saxophones screeching old tunes. Smells of all sorts — hot dogs, sewage, spilled coffee, burnt-out fires in trash cans — swirl through the air. From your perch, a rooftop between West 48th and Broadway, you tilt your head to the side, listening. The speaker snug in your ear rattles off the police scanner monologue. You pick out a target, get to your feet, and take off.

You hook a knee around the fire escape, riding the ladder down to street level, and sprint down the alleyway, rounding the back of the building before darting up the next set of stairs and up to the next roof. You hear sirens in the opposite direction — not the one you’d picked — but as your fingers clench around the eavestrough, grunting with effort as you lift yourself up, there’s a firm grip on your shoulder, curling into the dark fabric of your stealth suit, lifting you to your feet.

Instantly, you flash your hand out to the person’s elbow, a low grunt reaching your ears, but the grip on you stays firm. “You really don’t want to do this,” you say, your voice low. You reach for the wrist next, your hold as tight as the one holding you. The arm is thick, rippled with muscle, tendons in the forearm dancing under your palm as you’re lifted to your feet, and you turn your eyes to see just what you’re up against.

Fuck. He’s hot.

Clothes as dark as your own, heavy boots, gloves, the works. A black mask covering half his face, but leaving a ridiculously sharp jawline bare, skin pebbled with stubble, the most sinful mouth you’ve ever laid eyes on, and it opens slightly as you stare, his head tilting to the side, tongue darting out to wet his lower lip. 

“Who are you,” he says, and even his voice is delicious, rough and gravelly and sending a shock down your spine. It’s not really a question, more of a demand.

“I could ask you the same question,” you say, still gripping the masked man’s wrist. You’ve managed to inch yourself back a bit, turning your body away from the ledge. “I thought I was the only emo-dressed vigilante running around New York right now.”

He cracks a smile. Something in you tightens. “Guess not.”

“Guess not,” you repeat, and you feel the grip loosen ever so slightly. It’s not much, but it’s enough to bat his hand away, stepping out of his grip entirely. The smile widens. “Don’t worry, I’ll play nice.”

“What are you chasing?” he asks, and you slide backwards, towards the centre of the roof, circling him slowly like a lioness stalking its prey. He does look delicious, after all.

“Why should I tell you?”

The smile shrinks to a half smirk, and he raises one hand, placing the other over his heart. “I can guarantee you we’re on the same side, scout’s honour. Or, emo-dressed vigilante’s honour, as it were.”

It puts a grin on your face and you just shake your head. “Give me a name and I’ll think about it.”

“My name?” he asks. “Sort of defeats the whole masked man thing if I tell you who I am, doesn’t it?”

“If you tell me yours, I’ll tell you mine,” you sing, and as you step around him further, completing the circle, you can’t help but reach out, dragging a gloved finger across his broad shoulders. “Maybe we could be of use to each other.”

He turns his head to the side, silhouetted by the bright lights of the street below, and heaven above, you could cut glass with that jaw. “What do they call you?”

“I asked you first, handsome,” you purr, and he turns, smirking as your finger moves from it’s place on his shoulder and across his chest, up under his chin. “I can keep a secret. C’mon, I don’t bite. Unless you ask me to.”

“You’re trouble,” he says, chin lifting as you walk your fingers back down his chest, stopping at his sternum.

You scoff. “Maybe so. But the cells full of delinquents and assholes at my favourite precinct says otherwise.”

“You have a favourite precinct?”

You lift a shoulder. “They’re nice to me, and they don’t ask questions when I show up unannounced with criminals. Sure, I’m no Iron Man, but the Avengers have bigger things to worry about than thieves and vandals, right?”

“So you’re doing this out of the goodness of your heart?” he asks.

“And you’re not?” His smile drops completely, and you can’t help but laugh. “I almost died, in the battle of New York. Buried under a pile of rubble for three days before they pulled me out. I should have died, but I didn’t. So now…”

“You help those who aren’t as lucky as you.”

“Something like that. Grandma used to say I had nine lives. Guess I’m down to eight.”

“Grandma know you’re running around rooftops at night and talking to strangers?”

You actually bark a laugh at that. “She’d have a heart attack if she knew.”

More sirens sound from the street below, and both your heads turn towards it. “Time to go.”

“Guess so. Maybe I’ll see you again.”

“Maybe. Take care of yourself, kitten; I’d hate to see you knocked down to seven lives.”

He’s halfway across the roof before you can remember your own voice, the pet name making every part of you heat for a second. “You didn’t tell me your name!”

“Don’t you know?” he says over his shoulder, the grin returning. “I’m the Devil.”

+

It’s a few weeks, before you catch a glimpse of the Devil again. Even then, it’s only a fleeting thing, a shadow on the rooftop across the alleyway from the one you’re sprinting across. But even in the dark, in the strange backlight New York has to offer, you know that jaw, that smug grin, that black getup.

He doesn’t wave, but puts his fingers to his brow, a subtle salute.

You shake your head and keep running.

+

There’s blood everywhere.

Everywhere, and it’s gotten to the point where you don’t know what’s yours and what belongs to the annoying fuck trying to punch your lights out. You do know, however, that it’s mostly yours. He’s already sliced you in the side a few times and managed to stab you in the shoulder, you’re eighty percent sure your nose is broken, and you’re definitely going to have a concussion with how many times your head has been slammed into the bricks. Your vision is already a little blurry.

You landed a few good hits, but you’d picked a bad target. The guy is bigger than you, sure, but you’d definitely underestimated how strong he is. He manages to toss you down the alley, your back slamming into the edge of a dumpster, and your whole body lights up with pain. Fuck.

Your eye are clouded, from the headshots and the amount of blood that’s now caught in your mask. You feel like you can’t breathe, and you’re trying to power through, planting your gloved hand on the asphalt, but you can’t pull yourself up. The man’s shadow looms over you, and you open your mouth to say something snarky, but the shadow is joined by another before you can.

You can’t see it, but you hear the sound of a fist connecting with the man’s face. He lets out a pained grunt, and there’s a bang of metal. The man shouts, there’s another bang, and then the alley goes quiet.

“Hey, kitten,” a familiar voice says, and your heart leaps in your chest. Oh, for the love of god. “Fancy seeing you here.”

You open your mouth to say something, but all that comes out is a tight moan, pain rippling through your body as thick arms slide underneath you. The movement makes your whole body ache, and you use what little strength you have left to rest your head on his shoulder when he lifts you up and against his chest. He starts to head further into the alleyway, and your body sings in pain with every step.

“It’s okay,” the Devil murmurs, “I’ve got you.”

+

You come to sometime later. It’s hard to say how long. The bed beneath you is definitely not your own, but it’s warm and it’s soft and your sore body is grateful. The sheets have a decidedly male scent to them, and ever so slowly, you push yourself up on your elbows. Your wounds have been tended to, your shoulder and side wrapped in bandages; your outfit is gone, replaced with an old Columbia University t-shirt. You can feel tape over the bridge of your nose, and while your head is groggy as anything, you spy a glass of water and a few ibuprofen on the nightstand.

“I was wondering when you’d wake up,” a voice calls, and you turn your head in it’s direction. “You sort of yelled when I tried to leave you at the hospital.”

Standing in the doorway, is the Devil. 

“How long was I out?”

“A few days,” he replies, and you balk. Fuck. And then you realize…you’re looking at his face. His actual face.

You know it’s him, judging by the all too familiar voice (a little higher-pitched than the voice he uses when he has the mask on, but it’s still familiar) and the sharp as hell jawline. There’s no mask now, and you find ruffled dark hair, bright brown eyes, and those broad shoulders stretched beneath a dark t-shirt, legs covered by grey sweats, and oh my god, he’s tucked the cuffs into his socks.

“The Devil has a face,” you say. “I must be a lucky girl.”

“Well, I had to take your mask off to clean up the blood,” he answers, leaning against the doorway. God, you’re really not sure what you like better, the Devil, or the man he is in the daylight. “It only seemed fair. Plus, we’re on the same side.” He smirks. “Although, you do have a leg up on me now.”

“Oh?”

“May I?” he asks, inclining his head into the room. It must be his bedroom, you realize. You’re in his bed. When you answer yes, he steps inside, walking towards the bed and settling onto the edge of it. “Let’s just say, I wouldn’t be able to pick you out in a lineup. Your secret’s safe with me.”

Your head cocks to the side, and you blink hard at the rush of pain that slides through your skull with the movement. That’s when you realize. His eyes aren’t actually on your face, not really. They’re not focused, a beautiful shade of brown that flits across your features but doesn’t actually land, doesn’t stay in one spot.

He’s blind.

“You’re…?” you trail off, not sure the best way to say it. Is it polite to just say it outright?

“Blind,” he says, finishing the sentence for you. Well, that answers that. “Mostly.”

“Mostly? You’re mostly blind and you moonlight as a masked vigilante?”

“A story for another time,” he says, and reaches out to cover your hand with his own. His hands are big  and you can feel your cheeks heat when his fingers curl around yours. He smiles. “How are you feeling?”

You sigh, sinking into the pillows a little more. “Like I got my ass beat.”

“Sounds about right.” He reaches a hand out, and his fingers rest lightly on your cheek. “Your nose wasn’t broken, by the way.”

“Oh, thank god,” you whisper out, relieved. “I’m sure my face is a mess.”

The corner of his mouth quirks. “You’re beautiful.”

The words make your face heat. “Said the blind man.”

“Mostly blind,” he reiterates, and his hand moves from your cheek to your jaw, fingers firm beneath your chin. “I’m glad you’re all right, kitten.”

“Thanks to you,” you say. “Thank you, by the way, for stepping in.”

“Happy to,” he grins. “Can’t have you losing any more of those lives, right? Besides, like you said: maybe we can be of use to each other.”

“I’ll have to return the favour,” you scoff, realizing that his fingers haven’t left your chin. “So, you’ve shown me your face, am I overstepping if I ask for your name?”

“Oof, now you’re just crossing the line,” he says, and it takes you a moment to realize he’s joking. He’s also leaning towards you. Oh my god. “It’s Matt. Matt Murdock.”

You breathe out your own name, lifting up on your hands again, closing the distance between you. His hand drags down your chin, skimming over your collarbone before the flat of his palm rests against your chest, right over your heart.

“Excited, kitten?”

You’re not ashamed to admit there’s a fire between your legs, and every move he makes is stoking it, making your breath catch in your throat. He inhales sharply, planting his other hand beside your hip.

“Can I kiss you?”

You barely nod, breathing out a yes please before his lips come crashing down onto yours. It’s soft but hard at the same time, his palm moving back up until it’s resting against your throat, fingers curling around your neck lightly. It makes you gasp, and while your movements are slow, his are careful. He groans into you, pushing his forehead against yours after a moment, pulling his mouth from yours to suck down a breath.

“Is it strange for me to say I’ve wanted to do that since that night on the rooftop?”

You shake your head, letting your eyes flutter shut. “Kiss me again.”

He cracks a smile again, and obliges, tilting his head to the side so he can kiss you from a different angle this time. His tongue slides across the seam of your lips this time, and you drop your jaw, letting him in, moaning at the taste of coffee on his tongue. You lift your own hand to his shoulder, curling your fingers in the fabric of his t-shirt, trying to pull him closer. Your body aches, but you don’t care, pushing through the pain because he feels so good.

“Matt,” you start, wincing when you move too fast and your side sparks with pain.

“Can I touch you?” he asks, his voice lower and huskier. He sounds more like the Devil now, and it sends a thrill through you. “I’ll be careful.” His mouth moves to your forehead, kissing you once, twice, three times. “I just wanna make you feel good.”

You nod again and he moves himself further onto the bed, tilting you back to lay against the pillows again and fitting himself at your side. His mouth moves back to yours, kissing your bottom lip and then your top one, the corner of your mouth and your cupid’s bow. And all the time, his hand roves down your front, careful as anything over the bandages before his knuckles skim your hip and trace over the hem of your underwear. You’re twitching, reaching one hand up to thread in his hair while he drinks down the moans that slip out of you.

He rubs a perfect circle over your clit and your jaw drops open. He uses it to his advantage, licking into your mouth, smiling against your lips as he draws another circle. “You’re wet,” he murmurs, cursing under his breath.

The hand not in his hair reaches for his wrist and you curl your fingers around it, lifting your hips up to chase his touch, gasping when his fingers slip lower, one finger dipping in to his first knuckle before he draws back. “Oh god, Matt, more please,” you whisper, and he kisses you deeper, swallowing your noises as he slides one finger all the way in, dragging along the deepest parts of you before pulling out completely. You whine at the loss, but then there’s two thick fingers breaching you instead, and you relax into the feeling, sighing into his mouth.

He sets a perfect rhythm, the pads of his fingers finding that devastating part of you all too easily. It’s like he’s trained for this. It doesn’t take much for you to cum, everything in you clamping down on his fingers as he fucks you through it, kissing the gasps from your mouth and mumbling encouragements. “Good girl, kitten,” he whispers, and it’s a miracle you don’t cum again right there on the spot. Every bit of pain in you recedes for one blissful moment, your back arching until your chest is flush with his.

He kisses you a little while longer, hand still between your legs, both of you unwilling to move for a moment.

Now this is going to be interesting.

[what-if-nct]

yooo you won’t believe this- (cw // sh, rappe, vio and a bit of dec 18th)

so i bumped into this girl and had the audacity to disrespect jonghyun for no reason at all- she was my cousin’s friend who was also like a shawol buddy at one point when i was younger and she was friends with some people, one in particular was a guy that r worded me when i was 12 and she just laughed at me and didn’t even try to tell him to stop.

so she said something like “hey [deadname], how are you doing with your dead idol?” with both of them laughing at each other but i knew that i couldn’t go without a fight since i’m very aggressive. however, my little sister was with me so i had to push her away and not get into my space. we ended up fighting and trust me i don’t do those girl fights where we grab each other’s hairs or rip each other’s clothes off. i mean i FIGHT fight with real punches to the point where i managed to knock her up after a lot of bruises and broken noses later. people tried to separate us by pulling her in one corner but it didn’t work. that GUY literally tried to touch me and out of self defence i punched him in the face since i hated him for all the suffering he put me through for 6 years.

but yeah i have a bruise on my eye and that girl needed to go to the hospital so- there are literally police officers after me so i’m hiding hahah looks like i’m going to go prison for assault or some shit. we all thought that she was dead and if she does come back but in a coma or with a disability then this is just jonghyun kicking her out of paradise lol

i know i should feel sorry and know what i’ve been may affect my life but ayo i have bad anger issues and i’ve been like this for YEARSSSSS like the time i moved to japan for school because i beaten up a (different) girl for disrespecting my baby jjong and one day when i was going home on the train because i had a feminine body with a girl uniform i’ve experienced chikan which is literally when a guy touches a girl without her consent but this usually happens on trains since they’re usually packed with many people meaning that they could get away with it more but this could happen anywhere- so anywho i was just minding my own business when i felt someone touching my butt. i thought since it was a packed train people would just bump into me which i didn’t mind at first, but then it turned into groping and i could feel my skirt going up. i didn’t know about the japanese culture and how people don’t typically react (as in externally but internally yes) when they go through something like this since they’re usually very considerate of other people before me, imagine my shock when i actually confronted the guy by pushing him against the wall from the neck and screaming at him. i literally did not give a shit about the culture shock, i was a london bitch who knows how to protect myself and if i have to then i have to of course you feel me? the ones that looked my age seemed so fascinated with my bravery whilst the others like the grandmas that looked like they were in their 60s and up were looking at me weirdly like i did something wrong. everyone knew i was a foreigner and excused my behaviour simply because i wasn’t from here. they could hear from my voice even though i spoke mid japanese and i didn’t sound like those ✨🌸 kawaii 🌸✨ girls from anime or whatever- ok i’m kidding but what i meant is that i didn’t have a soft voice being born a girl- i actually have a roadman voice but it was a 10 year old boy speaking. but yo… safe to say that ever since that moment on, i never went on public transport again and my aunty decided to drop and pick me up from school instead.

lol… but japan was alright tho but that moment still haunts me to this day with the old ladies going like 👁👄👁

but yeah uh- how are you though? i hope your day is going well!

Well, I will say that she definitely deserved what she got and so did he, he deserves a little more maybe a knife to the heart. Just when he's out at night I hope he gets what he deserves for what he did to you. You were rightfully angry and you reacted in the way anyone would when faced with two horrible people from your past. I really hope you don't get in trouble. And just explain your side of the situation and talk to someone older about it. And I understand it's hard to control your anger in certain situations but next remember that you are the most important person in the situation make sure you also look out for your future self. Scream, curse, push, throw a punch or two but just hold back on using to much force so you can kinda get away with it. Like I understand that sometimes the only thing that works is beating someone's ass just also look out for yourself as well. My little sister is the same way, she pushed a boy down the stairs cause he touched her and she once banged a girls head against the lockers and of course got suspend. She was always suspended. She loves to fight. When we use to fight she was just going crazy while I held her down till she calmed down. I may have hit her back if she ended up hitting me though. Like I respect the fight or fight life. I really hope that you won't get in much trouble from this. And I've heard a lot of stories about that, it sucks that it's something that is so passively accepted in Japan, I think there's a few women only train cars which is great but you shouldn't have been seen as irrational for reacting the way you did and protecting yourself. I'm pretty sure men are taking advantage of the fact it's seen as impolite to cause a scene so women remain quiet about it. But I've also have heard stories from foreign women too. Like these men are gross and should be punished for it. I'm happy to hear that you fought for yourself even when you were younger. I'm actually really soft spoken, like I'm 29 and I sound like a 9 year old plus im in a permanent state of anxiety in public. so I honestly don't even say anything I just try to leave as quickly as I can. And at least it was the last time you had to be on train. It's so sad that's just how it has to be. But don't let anyone try to change the fighter that you are because that is something that would help you in the long run. Just think of yourself first to determine when you should tone it down. You are the most important person.

And I'm doing fine I took my bed apart just to put my mattress on the floor cause I've been doing that since I was 12, it's the third time the past five years I've done that. I always get bored in the middle of the night and feel the need to move things around or take things apart. Like I was like 12 years old sitting on the floor unscrewing my metal bed frame. Why? And I have not changed like I could take my box spring to the disposal lot down the street or I can go in the backyard, take my pink hammer and break it into a bunch of pieces. I want to destroy something. I like destroying things and taking stuff apart.

[ilguna]

☼ intentions (Draco Malfoy) ☼

summary; ' Could I get an imagine where the reader and Draco are frenemies and there's ✨r𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏✨? I wanna see someone being pushed against a bookshelf in the library and they just stare at each other 👁👄👁 ’ 

warnings; swearing

wc; 1.3k

NOTES; READER IS RAVENCLAW

–

You flip the page of the book, trying to get yourself to focus on the material. It’s just a few more pages before you’re done completely. Although, you should probably give up at this point because you won’t be absorbing anymore of the information. You’ve reached your breaking point. You should put the book down.

Your eyes flicker up to Hermione, Cho and Luna who all seem to be reading with no problem. There’s a small smile on Cho’s face as she flips to the next page. Luna looks like she’s studying it intensely and Hermione looks bored of it. You’re sure Hermione has already ready about this, likely in her first year since she was so eager.

You’re not sure how it’s possible that you’re all reading the same thing and yet you all have different reactions. Cho likes it, Luna thinks it’s interesting and Hermione wants to be done. At least they’re engaged, you can’t even get your brain to focus anymore. 

There really is no point, is there?

With a sigh, you close the book. Hermione looks up, a finger on where she’s leaving off. Cho looks up too, but Luna looks too lost. It’s fine, you don’t mind it. Luna always means well, and knowing her, she’s probably listening anyway. Her brain is wired in a way you could never understand.

“I can’t pretend anymore.” you slide the book onto the table, “This book is boring and insufferable. Even having detention with Snape would be better than this.”

Cho lets out a laugh, shrugging her shoulders, “Your grade.”

“Oh, don’t bother.” you roll your eyes, leaning against the table, “I’ll just cram ten minutes before the test to keep the information in my head.”

“That doesn’t really work, y’know.” Hermione says.

Before you can answer, Luna is briefly looking up, “Works for me. And I have fine grades. It’s not a bad technique.” and then she’s back to reading.

Cho makes a face, nodding her head in Luna’s direction like she’s got a point. Hermione sighs, going back to reading, “Well, it doesn’t work for Ron or Harry, I’ll tell you that much.”

“No offense, but they’re kinda…” you trail off, and Cho laughs, agreeing with you.

“Not smart?” Hermione finishes her sentence, “Yeah, I know.”

“You’ve got to at least pretend, otherwise Madam Pince is going to be on your back.”

You lean forward to look around the bookcase. Cho’s right, she’s coming your way. You need to pretend or put the book back and give up entirely. You don’t want to just leave these three here--or maybe you don’t want to go back to the dorms and be bored. Either way, time’s up.

Madam Pince stops in front of you. You give her a polite smile, “Was just putting my book back, sorry.”

“You can stay here for as long as you’d like, (Y/n).” her attention is then turned to the other three, “As well as you girls. As for you--” she turns towards some unsuspecting boys that are only in here to talk.

“Well.” you start, grabbing the book and standing up, “I’ll put this away and come right back. If you’re done by then, we can discuss the material?”

“Smart.” Luna mutters, “Good idea. It’ll help anything we don’t know.”

“And catch (Y/n) up on what she’s missing out on.” Hermione says, you stick your tongue out at her playfully, and she does it right back. You move away from them, going deeper into the library to put the book back where you got it from with them.

The library is just one big maze. Almost hard to navigate, if you don’t understand how Madam Pince has the shelves organized. Fortunately for you, you’ve come in here every week for so many years now. You’ve got the entire place memorized.

You round the corner, thinking that it’s clear. But you bump straight into someone.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” you apologize, looking up.

“Yeah--” he starts, and he looks up too. It’s Draco, he seems to change his mind on what he was going to say, “--no, it’s my fault. I should have waited to see.”

“It’s fine,” you pat his arm, sliding past him to put the book away.

You roll your eyes as soon as your back is to him.

Draco Malfoy is just one of those people that you’re nice to on the surface, but deep down there’s such an intense burning hatred that it’s almost comedic. You’re nice to his face, but with Hermione and the others, you tend to gossip. And you’re sure that he knows you do this. 

It’s funny how it’s not really a secret that you don’t like him, and yet the two of you still pretend that there’s a clean slate. That he didn’t call one of your best friends a… and he doesn’t bad mouth you to his friends.

“Are you here alone?” Draco asks.

“No, Hermione, Cho and Luna are waiting for me back at the table.”

“Pince will have your neck.”

“Actually, she just told us she’s fond of our presence.” you give him a sarcastic smile, holding up the book to the bookshelf. It slips from your fingers, and goes to resume its place on the shelf, “I really can’t say the same for you, though. She complains about your shortness all the time. You know, it won’t kill you to have a polite conversation with her once in a while.”

Draco forces a smile, “Why should I bother? I’ll be out of here in a few years anyway.”

“Because those books you’re always asking for, and she says she has no clue what you’re talking about--she’s lying.” his face twists, and you shrug, “There’s one reason to bother.”

He’s scowling now, but seems to recover easily, “You four were studying for the OWL’s?”

“Yeah. Just reading over the material,” you’re tired of this conversation, “What’re you here for?”

“Blaise and Pansy.” is all he answers.

“Good luck with them. If there’s anything painful, it’s trying to study with a couple of morons, but you probably fit in well.” you say, “Excuse me.”

Draco moves quicker than you do, slamming his hand onto the bookshelf beside you, his arm makes it impossible to go. You know what’s coming before he even says it, so you look at him.

“Let me guess, your father is going to hear about this?”

“You should probably stop talking to me like that.” he says, his voice measured, “As well as talking about me behind my back. It’s not wise.”

You lean forward, “I’ll stop as soon as you will. And knowing you, and your ego, it’ll literally be impossible.”

He leans forward a little more, probably going to say something threatening. Until he freezes where he is. You’re confused at first, wondering what’s stopped him, until you realize just the type of position you’re in.

He’s in your face, an inch away. Leaning into his hand that’s on the bookshelf. The people sitting at the table a couple feet away have stopped talking, instead they’re staring at you two, wondering what’ll happen. You can already hear the rumor that’s going to go around after this.

You wonder whose face turns red hot first, his or yours. Because it feels like it happens at the same time. Soon, he’s backing up, fixing one of the buttons that had come undone when he leaned forward. You’re continuing your way into the aisle, wanting to put as much distance as possible between him and yourself.

“Good luck with Pansy and Blaise.” you mutter, going to leave.

“Thanks.” is all he says, before the two of you are heading in opposite directions.