For otherrs1de, sorry it’s a bit late <3 :)

Louis and Niall were hardcore advocates for the whole “short people are the best people” epidemic. 

Constantly they were coming up with reasons that short people could do things more efficiently and ways that short people could completely trump a taller person. They had easily tested these ideas out on Harry and Liam, knowing that the two would probably just laugh off their stupid pranks. 

They didn’t prank Zayn, because  Zayn slept most of the time, and Zayn would murder them in their sleep if they disrupted his. 

“And, you can get on my shoulders and we’ll easily be able to get to the cookie jar.” Louis finishes, nodding at Niall.

Niall grins excitedly. “Yes! Perfect.” He concludes, “We’re mad geniuses. Right Einstein’s we are!” 

Louis nods in agreement. “We’re fuckin’ ace, Nialler. See, even short people like you can do fun things.” 

“You’re short too, Louis.” Niall laughs, thinking they were still joking. 

Louis stops laughing for a second. “Uh- well, i mean, I’m kind of short, but at least I’m not as short as you, right?” He chuckles, words salty and mean. 

Niall also stops laughing. “Me- We’re, like, the same height!” Niall says, feeling a bit offended. “If anything, I’m taller than you.” He says, striding past Louis and into the living room, where Zayn is laying on an armchair. 

You?!” Louis screeches, “You?! Taller than me?!” He asks disbelievingly. “As if, Niall Horan! You’re the shortest one in the band!” 

“There is no way that you’re actually having this conversation again.” Zayn complains, rolling his eyes not-too affectionately as Louis and Niall start up just like they do every other week.

“I am not the shortest!” Niall shouts at Louis, fists clenched as he growls at the boy. 

Louis scoffs. “You’re 5′8’ Nialler, sorry to break it to ya, but you’re by far the shortest band member.” Louis says, smirk evident on his face as he pointedly looks down at Niall. 

Niall’s eyes narrow dangerously at the other blue eyed boy. “Fuckin’ hell! You’re 5′8’, Louis!” He contradicts, making Louis squawk in indignation. 

“I’ll have you know that i’m 5′9’.” He says snootily, looking away from the blonde boy with a flush on his cheeks. 

Zayn makes a loud groaning noise, shoving his face in a pillow as he calls helplessly, “Liam, make them stop!” 

Liam, just having walked into the room, seriously considered walking straight back out. Whenever Louis and Niall decided to hash out some issues, curses and yells were bound to be thrown at everyone involved. But, just like every other time, Liam was responsible for stopping these fights before it started any real issue. 

“Guys, please stop before you kill Zayn. Or before Zayn kills you.” Liam states politely, sitting down on the couch where Louis and Niall were cuddled up on just the day before. 

Louis glares in Liam’s direction. “Not until you tell this little midget that he’s the shortest of us all!” 

Niall gasps, deeply offended. “Did you hear that? Liam!” He calls angrily. 

“Louis, no name calling.” Liam chastised as he levels a glower at Louis, if anything, just to appease Niall. He opens a magazine as Louis and Niall fall into silence, simply giving each other dark looks. 

Louis smirks, “But Niall is the shortest in the band, isn’t he, Lili?” 

“Of course he is.” Liam answers, not even thinking about his answer until the words are out of his mouth. The second they are, Liam’s hand flies up to his mouth and his eyes meet Louis and Niall’s. 

Niall is pouting dramatically, figure slumped as Louis hoots in victory. Zayn sighs angrily, giving up on his peaceful afternoon. As he gets up, Liam follows quickly, not ready to face Niall’s sad expression just yet. It takes a moment for Louis to calm down, hopping around the room happily before the older boy lands on the ground in front of the blonde boy. 

Niall continues to pout up at Louis, daring the Doncaster lad to say anything else. Louis just smiles cockily down at Niall, purposefully angling Niall’s head upwards. 

Niall’s eyebrows furrow, “Look, Louis, you won, alright? What are you doi-”

Rolling his eyes, Louis cups Niall’s cheeks with his hands and silences the younger (and shorter) boy, pushing his lips directly against Niall’s in a sloppy, quick, wet kiss. 

They both jerk back slightly, surprised at the sudden gesture. Louis doesn’t give up, though, this time pressing his lips against the Irish boy with more passion and less spit. 

Niall’s eyes are wide, simply letting his oldest bandmate kiss him solidly. His hands are frozen in a raised position on Louis’ shoulders, but the “taller” boy grabs Niall’s hands and forces them around his own neck. Niall then closes his eyes, deciding to kiss the blue eyed boy back.

Louis grins as Niall kisses him back, gripping the smaller boy around the waist tightly. Louis pulls back, ignoring both of their heavy breaths. 

“It’s about time.” Harry says, passing through the room briefly. 

Niall huffs out a laugh, still not really understanding what’s happening. 

Louis places his hands onto Niall’s cheeks once more, pressing his lips into that cute little pout that he often has when Niall wins their arguments. He kisses him lightly, smiling softly. He nearly coos as Niall lets out a gentle yawn, blushing slightly. “Let’s go take a nap.” Louis suggests, holding out a hand for Niall. 

Niall, still confused but oddly happy with the way his day had turned around, follows goofily. 

They’re half way up the stairs when Louis perks up, shouting loudly, “I’m the big spoon!” 

“No you’re not!” Niall yells back and the entire world can probably hear Zayn’s heavy, disappointed sigh. 

So yeah this was really short and probably bad, I’m sorry. I know not many people ship Nouis, but it’s actually one of my favorite 1D ships, I’m working on another nouis, but it might take a while. I didn’t wanna do 2 narrys in a row and all of my Zianourry AUs are going to be decently long, which is why its taking me a while

Also, tonight my grandma was in the hospital and i had to drive there at like 8 and I drove back about an hour ago at 12. So that’s why this one sucks and is so short. I really hope it makes sense and I hope y’all like it anyway.

You can prompt me here! I do any Niall-centered relationship including OT3, OT4 and Zianourry. I’m also thinking of doing a baby!niall and *different pairing!adoptive parents, so let me know if you’re interested & who that pairing should be! You can see my other writings here. 

if niall was sick he’d be so clingy and cuddly and he’d be laying on the couch groaning with his hand on his forehead complaining about how much his head hurts and how his stomach is upset and he’d beg you to come lay with him and snuggle him so you’d lay beside him and he’d make you rub his tummy and give him little kisses all over his face but not on his lips because he doesn’t want you to get sick 

Niall’s got a loose tongue, and he really isn’t the most sensitive young man, so it wouldn’t take much for him to get you mad during an argument. He’d hurt you, mostly unintentional, but effectively. But as hotheaded as he is, he cannot stand tension, he doesn’t know how to cope with stress and most importantly, he doesn’t want his baby to be mad at him. He’d leave the flat and slam the door, still shouting and cussing like a sailor, only to return fifteen minutes later, pouting, with big eyes and roses from the florist’s around the corner.

“Look, baby, I’m sorry.”, he’d mutter, stretching out his arm to hand you the flowers like a clumsy child. “I didn’t mean t’ hurt ya.” And you could close the door on him again, he’d knock his knuckles sore until you let him in, whining and begging: “C'mon babe, I told ya I’m sorry! Let me make it up t'ya, will ya? Baby, c'mon, are ya gonna let me in? I know I’m not good with words. C'mon baby, please. Open the door. Baby, c'mon. I’m sorry. I’m so stupid, babe, I’m sorry.”

You’d still sulk and refuse to talk to him, even if he’d try to cuddle up to you on the sofa like a guilty little puppy. He’d put his hand on your thigh and peck your cheek, saying “Sorry. Sorry. Sorry.” with each hard kiss. His stubble would tickle you and eventually, you’d give in and laugh. He’d be so relieved to see you smile again. “I’m such a stupid boy.”, he’d mumble, going for your lips now, but you’d turn your head. “Not yet.”, you’d hiss, reminding him just because he made you giggle doesn’t mean you forgave him.

This would encourage him to try a little harder. Running his big palm up and down your thigh, closer to your center with each stroke, he’d begin to kiss down your neck, causing goosebumps all over your skin. He’d mutter under his breath, whispering: “Forgive me. I’m so, so sorry.” Eventually, he’d cup you, gently rubbing you through your leggins and you’d spread your thighs to show him he’s allowed to give it a shot and try to make it up to you. He wouldn’t hestitate to scoot off the sofa and drop to his knees on the rug before you, looking up at you with an obvious question in his big, blue eyes. “Can I?”

You’d let him strip down your leggins and panties and he’d kiss all the way up your inner thighs to where you need his mouth to say sorry like he means it, and by the time he drags his tongue along your slit he’d be moaning already, as if you were the sweetest thing he ever tasted. You’d buck your hips against his face and he’d chuckle, gripping your hips to pull you closer so he can eat and turn your anger into bliss. “You gonna forgive me, princess?”, he’d ask in a shy, childlike voice. “You gonna let me make it up t'ya?” You’d shush him and grab a fistful of his messy blonde hair to remind him what you need him to do to really make it worth it.

Of course he’d know what to do you to make you love it, letting go of your hips to put his long fingers to work, hooking them up and pushing them past your entrance to rub you where it feels the best, all that while licking and sucking on your clit, making you roll your hips all automatically. “Wanna make ya cum.”, he’d whisper. “Gonna make my baby cum so good.”

Flat tongue to lap up your juice and then pointy again only to tease you: He’d know the exact moves it takes to get you on the verge of coming on his hot, greedy mouth within a few minutes. And you could feel him smirk the moment you whimper his name and clench around his fingers just cause he’d know you’ll forgive him. How could you not forgive the man that makes you cum so good? “Come.”, he’d growl. “Come, baby.” And you would. And how.

He’d be so pleased with his work, unable to hide his cocky smile, but at the same time, he still wouldn’t be sure if things were alright between the two of you again. Trying to catch your breath, you’d pull him up to you, kiss the tip of his nose and tell him: “I forgive you, stupid Niall.”

“Yeah. Stupid Niall.”, he’d say with a big grin on his flushed face before kissing you.

Niall One-Shot. Teasing and Pleasing.

This gif really has nothing to do with this one-shot I just couldn’t fine one to use and I felt like I needed one. Proceed…

As soon as we walked in the door he had me pinned against it. I knew it was coming as bad as I had been teasing him all evening. I had worn a short and tight enough dress to show just enough skin that would keep him guessing and wanting what was underneath. His hands slid just under the bottom of my dress resting on my hips as he kissed my neck. I leaned my head against the door and wrapped my arms around his neck. Holding myself tight against him before I started kissing him. He pulled back and I started kissing the freckles down his neck as I moved my hand to palm him over his pants.

Keep reading

Good Boy

Just a little drabble about a whiny little sub Niall on a leash. I dedicate this to nialledfrombehind and the little talk we recently had. In this concern, I was a good sub. Shanna, you ordered, and hereby, I deliver. Also thanks to nakskov for making me like it the other way around in first place. You’re so cruel, I love it.


“Please.”, he whimpers. His bottom lip is shaking and the pleading look in his big blue eyes is making it hard for you not to cave in. He looks adorable like this: Pink cheeks, hairline soaked in sweat, red flecks on his neck and chest and further down, his hard cock is pointing at your shin. He’s kneeling before you, waiting. Every muscle in his naked body is strained, violet veins shine through his milky, pale skin. He’s ready. For you. So, so desperate to feel you around his aching cock. Or at least your hands on his pained body, if only to slap and scratch and bruise him again.

“Please.”, he repeats, his voice nothing but a hoarse wail. “Wanna be a good boy.”

“Then why don’t you act like one, Niall?”, you hiss, pulling on the leash that’s attached to the collar around his thick neck. He was the one who brought it home, saying “I know you’re into this. Play with me.” And since then, you’ve been messing around quite a lot.

“Please, baby, can I?”, he asks, his chapped lips curl up to a hopeful smile.

“Can you what? And don’t call me baby.”

“I’m sorry. Can I touch you?”, he stutters, then, because he sees the disapproval in your face, quickly adds: “I wanna make you cum.”

“Do you?”, you tease. “Well, I don’t need you for that.”

You take a step back, loosening your grip on the leash. Whereas Niall is naked, fully exposed to you in his most vulnerable state, you’re still in a shirt and panties. But you slip them to the side now and spread your legs for him to watch how you start off touching yourself by slowly rubbing your swollen clit, before you push two fingers past your entrance, into the warmth he’s craving. His cheeks take on a darker shade of pink, almost purple, and you can tell that his head’s spinning, his little heart must be thumping in his ribs like crazy. He wants you so bad. Most likely, a part of him is contemplating to jump on his feet, grab you and take you right on the kitchen counter you lean against to fuck into you until he finds the sweet relief he’s in desperate need of. And a part of you wishes he would give in to that urge. But nothing compares to being in control of Niall, making him submit to you to please you. Nothing compares to him crawling on his knees like a good little pet, begging for you to have mercy with him. Pleading with his eyes and throaty little whimpers and then, finally, with words.

“Don’t do that.”, he whines. “Please, let me do it for you. Promise I’m gonna do well. Just wanna touch you. And taste you. Please. Let me make you cum.”

“I know.”, you say. “Maybe I don’t want you, though. Maybe I just want you to watch me making myself cum. Much better than you could ever make me.”

“This isn’t fair.”, he mewls. “Please.” The frustration in his flushed face only makes it more fun.

“Uh-uh. I don’t think you deserve that today.”, you insist. “You’ve been very selfish lately.”,

“I won’t be selfish anymore, (Y/N), please. I’m so sorry. Let me do it for you, please. Need to taste you.”

You don’t respond.

“Please, let me.”, he begs.

“Fine.”, you eventually sigh and pull on the leash again. “Come here, then.”

He stumbles forward, hugging your legs like a little boy that holds on to his mother, humming into the hungry little kisses he plants on their inside before he looks up at you in nervous anticipation of another instruction and you tell him to go ahead. “Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thankyou.”, he mutters, over and over again.

He quickly pulls your sticky panties down and helps you to jump and sit on the counter so he can straighten his back and lock his arms around your spread thighs before he buries his head between them. He takes a deep breath, inhales your scent and relishes in the gratification of his wish. And then, he finally puts his hot mouth on you. He growls like he’s been starving for this for a long, long time. The tip of his tongue flicks your clit and you flinch, immediately gripping a fistful of his hair to yank his head back and hiss “Don’t tease!” He nods and licks your juice from the corners of his pink mouth. “Won’t tease anymore, I promise. Gonna make you cum quick and good.”

You push his head back where you need it, knowing he struggles to breathe now, but you don’t mind. Neither does he. He’s greedy and, most importantly, determined to do a good job. “Love how you taste.”, he groans. You pull his hair and remind him not to talk. He’s so good. On nights like this, you almost wish he wasn’t, just because there’s some sick fun to humiliating him and telling him he’s bad and clumsy and nothing but stupid, useless, pathetic boy. But he adapted to you so well. He learned how to get you off within the shortest time. And he always says “I know my girl.”

“Fingers.”, you pant, interrupted by your own moan.

“Huh?” He looks up at you with big, confused eyes and for a moment, you’re too shaken by how much you love him to repeat your order. Sometimes, it just hits you, throws you off track. You love him to bits.

“I want you to use your fingers.”, you tell him, a little softer now.

“Yeh. Sure. Whatever you want. Whatever you wish for.”, he says before he bows his head again.

You can feel his raw fingertips on your inner thighs first, tickling you a bit, and then, he pushes them in, three at once, to fill you as you like it. And whilst his tongue’s still kitten licking your clit in a steady rhythym, he begins to move his hooked fingers inside of you, instantly making you quiver. He doesn’t vigorously pump them in an out, no, he treats you with a slow, practised come hither movement, and half a minute later, you’re clenching. “So good.”, you praise him. “You got me.”

You can feel him smirk. “I got you.”, he whispers. Going a little faster because he knows you’re close, he switches from licking to sucking on your clit, then just moving his head with his tongue pressed down on it. He pushes his free hand against your lower stomach and you cry out his name, which encourages him to reduce his finger movement to purposely stimulating your g spot only. He wants you to let go, and a skip of a heartbeat later, you do. You come around his fingers and all over them, holding your breath not to cry out loud. He made you squirt before, but never did most of your juice end up on his face. As you come down from your ecstatic high, he tilts back, still squinting, and smiles at you.

“Was that good?”, he shyly asks, as if he can’t tell.

“Obviously.”, you pant and smile back at him.

“Been a good boy?”, he wants to know.

“Yes.”, you praise him and stroke his cheek. His nose and lips and chin are glistening. You came all over his mouth. “My good baby.”

“Thank you.”, he says, closing his eyes as you caress him. “I love you. Thank you so much.”

“I love you, too. ”

For a moment, the world around you seems to stand still. He’s got his warm cheek resting on your thigh and you play with his hair. You comb it with your fingers, flatten it. He looks so pretty like this. Much younger, just adorable. And so fragile on his chafed knees, with old marks of your sharp nails on his pale back and bruises on his sides. But then, he gets whiny again.

“Can I cum now, too?”, he quietly asks. He’s still hard, of course, and it aches so, so bad. You’re a little sorry for making him wait this long. He behaved so well, did the best he could to make you cum, and lapped up every drop of your juice like a good boy. He gently kisses your mound. “I’ll make you cum again, I promise. But please let me, angel, please. Help me.”, he begs. “Need you. Please touch me.”

He pouts. And you give in. He deserves it. You slide off the counter and grab the leash to pull him up on his feet. You pull too hard and he chokes, which makes him blush. He’s nervous again, now, even shaking a little. You don’t hestiate. You reach down and wrap your hand around his cock, kissing the tip of his nose, a sweet contrast.

“(Y/N), I-”, he begins, but you hush him. “It’s okay, baby.”, you say. “I want you to cum, too. But not like this.”

“How?”, he asks. You hook your index finger under the collar and pull him closer.

“I want my baby to cum inside of me.”, you tell him. His face lightens up.

“Really? Can I?”

“Hmhm.” You kiss him again and he grabs your hips, growling into your half open mouth. Now that he knows he’s allowed to fuck you, he’s not careful anymore. He just wants to get what he wants as fast as possible.With damp hands, he lifts you back on the counter, pulls you to the edge and positions himself between your legs.

“Finally.”, he mutters under his breath. “Dyin’ to fuck you.”

“No cussing.”, you remind him, tugging on the leash that’s still in your hand. “I might change my mind and not let you cum at all.” But that’s not true. The moment you feel him sliding in, filling you up better than his fingers ever could, you dig your nails into his back, lock your legs around his waist and know you won’t let go until your good boy got what he deserves.

i feel like if you walked in on niall crying or on the verge of tears he would try to hide his face from you while you would pester him to tell you what was wrong. once he finally realized that you’re there to help him he would latch onto you and let it all out. you’d sit there and just listen as he told you about something on twitter or something from work and once he was done he’d hold you close and tell you how much you mean to him

Updated Masterlist!


#23 Twins

#22 This Distance is Killing Us

#21 The Incident

#20 Give Me a Chance

#19 Not Planned

#18 Achieving Normal 

#17 Can’t You See It?

#16 Undeniable Chemistry

Just My Opinion: Part 2

#15 Just My Opinion 

#14 Pay Attention 

#13 In Control*

Radio Contest: part 2

#12 Radio Contest

#11 Muse

#10 Must Be Dreaming

#9 I Vow

#8 Rehearsal Dinner 

#7 Is This Love

#6 Golf Lesson

#5 How to Deal

#4 Always the Perfect Friend 

#3 Wedding Guests

#2 There is no fixing anymore

#2 There is no fixing anymore: part 2

#1 Lake House


Years From Now

Shout Out


I lost it

4 days



The first I love you 

Valentine’s Day 

Day at the Beach 

He Is Sick

What happens in Vegas...

Spending the weekend in Vegas with Niall as his new girlfriend and the media’s all over you, so you really can’t do anything without being mobbed by paps and followed by those who recognize you. Niall’s booked the penthouse in one of the most expensive hotels and made you drop on your knees to suck him off right when you arrived and after you’ve taken a long, long shower in the big ass bathroom, he tells you get “all dolled up” because he’s taking you out. “Where are we going?”, you ask, not really in the mood for a casino or club since that’s where people will expect you to go and you’ve never been a lucky gambler. Niall, in a white button down shirt and tailored blue pants just smirks and says: “To one of dem wedding chapels. I’m gonna marry ya.” Your stomach turns and you stand in the middle of the room, in the pretty lingerie he got you only, staring at him with your mouth wide open, until he bursts out laughing and says: “Fuckin’ calm down, babe, as if. You’ll see. I’m takin’ ya somewhere special.” And as relieved as you are, a part of you is, in a way, a little disappointed. But Niall makes up for it.You’re wearing a tight black dress because that’s what your man loves to see you in, and together you sneak out of the hotel’s back door not be spotted. He’s got his shades on and his wallet in his pocket is as thick as his bulge looks in these pants. He’s rented nothing less but a silver lambo, enjoying the independence and anonymity not needing a driver grants you, even though there’s no way you’re not going to draw attention to you in that car. He knows the way to wherever you’re going and you wonder how, until you arrive at the exclusive club he chose for tonight. And it’s not just any club. Niall’s taking you to a strip club. You’re a little upset first, unable to keep your sense of jealousy from kicking in at the thought of half naked girls moving their perfectly shaped bodys to glam rock classics from the 80s, but Niall wraps his big hand around your wrist and tells you: “I want ya t’ have a good time.” The bouncers wait at the back door, they’ve been expecting their VIP guests. They hand you your passes and guide you in. The club’s crowded and surprisingly neat and clean, illuminated by violet, pink and blue lights, and there’s two seats reserved by the main stage. The dancers look like tan goddesses in the thick steam, moving along to that fucking Edwyn Collins song you’ve loved ever since and Niall pulls you to your seat before he as well sits down, legs spread and chin up, arms hanging down on his sides. He’s in a generous mood and hands you a hand full of notes, telling you to “Tip them girls”, before he raises his arm to call over the server. “Whaddya have babe?”, he asks you. You order your favourite drinks and he tells the server to bring him shots as well, grinning at you like a little boy with his shades still on. Of course some people around recognize him, you can’t really avoid that. He notices it makes you nervous and puts his hand on your left thigh, pretty close to where it meets your right one. Your drinks arrive and you gulp yours down, followed by the shots that burn in your throat, but quickly help you relax. Niall laughs and tips the girls, shoving the bank notes in their thongs and studded bras and when you do it, too, you as well keep your hands on their sweaty bodies for a little too long. The alcohol has quite an effect on your mood, as well as the dancers on the state of your lace panties and Niall notices you’re enjoying yourself, just like him. A little too much, maybe. He’s talking to the man around, throwing money on stage, knowing well that he could fucking buy this place, own half of the city in a blink. And all that looking like a seventeen year old boy in his dad’s suit pants. You’re aroused, you want him, and after gently telling a group of girls on their stag party who approached him to fuck off, he yells: “What’s a man gotta do to get a private lap dance?” You’re a little shocked first, hoping he won’t pull that dick move and leave you alone because, as silly as it seems, it would hurt you, but when one of the guards in suits follows his command and asks him which dancer he’s asking for, he turns to you and says: “Yer choice, babe.” You don’t know what to say and just point at one of the pretty girls and a minute later, the guard leads you to the back of the club, through a narrow corridor. You’re wondering what’s going to happen next and when you enter the small room with padded, velvet walls, big speakers that play a slow Air song embedded in them, a big, red glowing chandelier on the ceiling, nothing but a golden chair right in the middle and Niall tells you to sit down, you realise that he won’t be the one to recieve a lap dance, but you. The guard closes the door and you look at Niall, who leans against the wall and lights a cigarette even though smoking’s prohibited in here, and he just says: “I’m alright with watchin’. What happens in Vegas…”. A minute later, the stripper enters the room, probably the most gorgeous girl you ever saw, wearing nothing but black lingerie, a garter belt and matching stockings, and after nodding and smiling at Niall, she looks at you, the next song starts playing and she begins to dance. For you. You would’ve expected her to be distracted by the presence of no one less than about the most popular member in the world’s currently biggest band, but she’s focused on you and she takes her job very seriously. Luckily, the amount of drinks you’ve had as well as the thick smoke from what turned out to be a blunt instead of a regular cig, helps you to go from feeling nervous to simply being aroused very quickly and you enjoy the way she touches you whilst you can barely keep your hands off her. You hear Niall sigh and groan under his breath, he’s fucking wasted and when your eyes wander over to him, you spot how tight his pants have gotten around his crotch. The girl’s soft body’s grinding against yours until she gets on her fours and places her palms on your lower stomach, crawling up to you between your thighs and you really wish she’d keep her head right there and put her lush lips to work. She’s so attractive. You bite your tongue and let her dance on, she straddles you, moving her hips so skillfully it’s like she was born to do this, like it’s the only thing she ever does. “Oh fuck.”, you giggle, looking at Niall again. “No touching.”, the dancer reminds you, but you can tell she’d like you to. And then, Niall, in a low, scratchy voice, says: “Could ya get out?” You’re a little mad at him, you don’t want the girl to leave, but she nods and smirks and says: “I’ll lock the door, Mr Horan.” And as soon as she closes it behind her, Niall grabs you by your arm and makes you stand up so he can push you against the wall and he mutters: “I have t’ have ya now.”, before he reaches under your dress and pulls your sticky panties down to force himself in you, fucking you so rough and needy, as if he’s waited a lifetime to do this. You needed this, needed this so badly and he goes hard, making your head bump against the luckily padded walls with every thrust, his glassy, wasted eyes locked with yours. “Yes.”, he groans. “That’s how ya like it, huh? Enjoyed the dance like the slut you are. That’s how my baby likes it.” He doesn’t last long and as soon as he came inside of you, he makes you pull your panties back up. With his cum drying inside them, he the two of you walk out again. Everyone in the hallway knows exactly what you’ve been doing inside. Niall takes you straight back to the hotel, where he takes you again, followed by eating you out, fingerfucking you until you cum again, a second, a third, a fourth time, until you have to beg him to stop and fall asleep right there, sore and completely exhausted. You spend the next day by the pool and Niall takes you out for dinner, cracking the wedding chapel joke once again. Aftewards, you’re going to a club, ending up mobbed by people who “just want one picture”, until Niall gets so pissed you’re leaving early and watch the sunset from your penthouse’s balcony. “There’s gonna be so many pictures all over the newspapers.”, you say, but he just shrugs, pulling out a cigarette and this time, you share it. Your boy’s a man now, twenty-one years old and all grown up despite his cherub face and right there, in the golden light of the rising sun over Vegas, you realize how madly in love you are with him. Everything about him. And that you’d go every distance to be with him, no matter how hard it is to be the girl on the side of a man in his position. As if he senses what you’re thinking, he grabs your face and presses his pink lips on yours, muttering: “I fuckin’ love ya, baby. I love ya so much.” Packing your bags to leave again, he later stands in the doorframe to the bedroom, watching you. “Next time I’m takin’ ya here, we’ll leave married.” You just laugh and shake your head. “Don’t be an idiot”, you say. “Don’t forget what you said. What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas. So don’t make any promises.” But Niall’s dead serious. “This promise I’ll keep.”, he insists. “I’m gonna marry the livin’ shit out ya, babe.” He ends up proving his affection once again on the expensive rug of the penthouse’s bedroom before you get out and drive to the airport in the back of limousine, hand in hand and you hope he wasn’t joking, anticipating your next visit in that crazy town with an uncomparable excitiment in the pit of your stomach.

If you had somewhere to be but you were just too tired to get out of bed I have a feeling Niall would be like your little coach, coaxing you out of bed with everything he could think of. First just sweet whispers saying your name and stroking your back, then maybe kiss attacking your face, making sure to be extra obnoxious. Then if that didn’t work he’d jump on top of you, pinning you down, ticking you to death because he knew you were incredibly ticklish and you’d never be able to stay in bed like that. You’d wake up, scream “Niall!!! Stop it!!” and swat him a few times before hiding under the blankets again. Niall would realize this only made it worse before reevaluating his strategy and making breakfast for you, realizing that his girl was a lot like him in a lot of ways, but the main one was her love of food. Food would definitely get you out of bed and ready to be on your way, even though it meant he couldn’t spend the morning in bed, being lazy with you. He loved that you had a life away from him. It made leaving with the band just a little bit easier knowing you’d be busy without him. 


Here’s a drabble I started when this selfie first appeared and that I’m just now finishing and posting. Thanks insearchofthewords for being amazing and doing a last minute reading for me. 

Sundays were made specifically for people to have days off and sleep all day and maybe have a Netflix marathon. Sundays were for never having an actual meal, just spending the day snacking on whatever you could get your hands on (unless of course you went to your mom’s, then it was one full meal after another). Sundays were for procrastinating until Sunday night and early Monday morning. They were for yelling across the hall to your best friend because the two of you were both too lazy to get out of bed to find each other, for excessively texting the boy who might sort of, possibly be your boyfriend but you’re not completely certain on the title, because he can’t text you back while he’s working and you know that despite on the scowl on his face when he brings it up later that day, he loves it. It’s for crying into your best friend’s shoulder as you two watch another heart breaking romance together and for cluttering the table with snot-filled tissues. At least, that’s what Maggie thought, and that’s what she had planned to do all week. That is until Sunday came along and she was waking up in the boy-who-might-sort-of-possibly-be-her-boyfriend’s bed Sunday morning and he was tracing light circles between her shoulder blades.

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If Niall had a toddler son, he would style his son’s hair into a quiff like his own and he would style his hair in quiff too and they’re going to wear the matching shirts and he would wear his supras and his son would wear mini supras THAT WOULD BE SO FUCKING CUTE SOMEONE HELP ME!

i think niall would have to be friends with a girl before they started dating like he would have to know what makes her happy, mad, upset, nervous and how they act together in a casual situation. she would have to be his best friend as long as his girlfriend just like he would have to be her best friend as long as her boyfriend. they would be comfortable with each other and have this sort of dependency and trust on one another

niall drabble: shotgunning

a/n: oh yes, i know: creative title. but im tired so deal! anyways i was bored and inspired ((thanks to madison aka harrysmash)) and i decided to throw something together!! it does contain drug use and i guess some nsfw sexual stuff?? but just hints of it. anyways ok i havent wrote in  while so i hope you all enjoy!!!!

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Imagine Niall in the bathroom shaving shirtless when he catches his 4 year old son peeking around the corner watching his every move. Making eye contact with his son in the mirror Niall would motion for him to come over, then stand him up on the sink counter and lather him up with barbasol before getting a spoon from the kitchen to let him practice shaving because he always wants to be like daddy, shaving like a man. He’s always Niall’s little copy cat.