but the parted lips

Draco had been dreaming of this moment for as long as he could remember. He often wondered what it would be like, to be so close to those viridian green eyes that the long black eyelashes that framed them could tickle his face. But he knew that he was hoping for a dream that would most likely never happen.

 Draco had no idea when the spite and the bitter anger he felt towards Harry Potter changed into something else, but it had. So slow and gradual that he barely noticed the change. That is until he often found himself lost in thought, admiring Harry’s long lean frame striding across the Great Hall at breakfast. Or in Potions class, Malfoy would find himself distracted by Harry’s untidy black hair becoming even more tousled, his cheeks slightly pink, the top button of his shirt undone, exposing the pale hollow of his neck. Draco could not help but think that it suited him. How his pale skin contrasted so nicely with the flush of his cheeks and his jet black hair. 

It was thoughts like these that Draco discovered he wanted to do more than just admire from afar. He daydreamed in his other classes about how it would feel to caress Potter’s angled jaw and slender neck, and how it would feel to kiss the unexposed skin hidden under his clothing. So it was in that moment that he could not believe that his lips were firmly pressed against Harry’s surprisingly soft lips and that Harry was actually reciprocating the kiss. 

Harry Potter was kissing him. 

Harry Potter wanted to kiss him. 

Potter and his stupid glasses. 

Potter and that stupid smirk. 

Malfoy did not know how long the kiss lasted for. It could have been mere seconds or minutes. He couldn’t be sure. But he was painfully aware of the feeling of Harry’s face in his hands, Harry’s slender body on top of him, the two of them pressed firmly together, legs intertwined, of Harry’s hot breath against his mouth. 

Draco was sure that he must be dreaming. In an attempt to ground himself in the moment, Draco Malfoy desperately clung to Harry as they momentarily parted lips to gasp for air, then once again united in another kiss. This time, a passionate hungry kiss that promised no end in sight. And Draco had never felt any sensation quite like kissing Harry Potter.

- cellar.spiral 

| follow me at https://www.fanfiction.net/u/8898923/  |

[note] I saw this gif this evening and it inspired me to write a one-shot of what Draco could be thinking the first time he and Harry ever kiss. I have always seen Draco as more troubled, but I wanted to focus more on his fixation with Harry, with just a *smidge* of erotic. This is my first attempt at writing and I truly would love some feedback, positive or negative or critical. Please feel free to message me, follow me, or just reach out to me to ask questions.

Castaway {ACOTAR/Chapter 11}

Word Count: 3,477

Summary:  A modern-day University AU, from the A Court of Thorns and Roses universe. All characters belong to Sarah J. Maas. The idea for this fanfic hailed from prompts sent in by Anonymous, and @queen-archeron. You can read previous chapters here.

Author’s Note: All the amazing feedback I’ve gotten for this fic has been completely overwhelming (in a really, really great way). I’m going to be posting two chapters a week from here on out. I haven’t decided how many chapters I’m going to make this. Originally, it was 15, but I think I may extend it to 20 (we shall see). Anyway, I hope you all enjoy! As always, I would love to know what you think. :)

***Warning: (slightly) NSFW

Originally posted by loveviral

To the girl I used to be,

Today I felt something. I’m not sure what it was, but it was better than the numb void.

Today, for the first time in a while, I felt like it was going to be okay.



The girl I am now


Elain had never felt so nervous.

But she’d also never felt so free. So brave. So ready. So in want, in need of something.

And from the moment Azriel’s hands had found the back of Elain’s thighs, and had hoisted her up so that her legs were wrapped around his waist, Elain had no doubt in her mind that she was ready for it.

Ready for him.

She was amazed at his agility, at the way he carried her up three flights of stairs with no issues. At the way his lips stayed held against hers the entire way up.

They reached his apartment and Azriel fiddled the door open without having to put her down, and it wasn’t until after he kicked the door open with his thick, clunky boot, that he removed his lips from hers. “Cass?”

The only being who answered was Shadow, with a soft meow.

They were alone.

Azriel’s hazel eyes met Elain’s honey brown, and her breath halted as she realized what he was asking, without having to say any words at all.

Elain gave him a subtle nod, before running her hands through his hair, and pressing her forehead gingerly against his. “Please,” she asked, a careful plea.

Keep reading

itsmothermercy  asked:

Heck my dude, would it be alright to see a little bit of a mermaid AU? (Hanzo or Jesse being mer, im not picky!) (´。• ᵕ •。`) ♡

Hanzo stared into his nets, heart plummetting into his stomach. There was blood, so much blood and screaming. There was a person trapped in the nets, flailing below the teeming mass of fish. A bright flash of red and gold fabric was lost among the flashes of silver.

He swore, bursting into action and dragging the catch onto the deck. It took tortuously long seconds to swing the boom and deposit the mess. He dashed to it, sliding in the flood of water despite his heavy boots.

“I’ll get you out, do not panic,” he called in Japanese, knife flashing in the sun as he started cutting the net open. Ignoring the cost of his livelihood as he slashed it apart to get to the man inside.

His eyes were closed, panting heavily without moving. He didn’t respond to Hanzo’s calls and the fisherman slogged through the mass of fish. Fins slashed and stabbed at his arms. Some pricking bright buds of crimson to his skin through his sweater. 

“Stay calm,” he crooned, not sure if the man could understand him. He was not Japanese, western by the color of his skin and English text tattooed on his arm.

Hanzo knelt at the man’s side, stroking the hair out of his eyes. Shells and bits of colorful sea glass were woven against the dark brown, glittering in the sun. 

“Hello?” He ran his hand down the man’s face and over his mouth. There was breathing, faint and struggling. He leaned down to put his ear to the man’s heart and breathed a sigh of relief. 

it was strong.

“Hang on,” Hanzo wished he could communicate with the man, sliding to the source fo bright red. The man’s left arm was tangled deep in the net’s fibers, crimson bubbling up from a deep slice.

He straddled the man’s bicep, locking it in place with his thighs. He had to do this without interruption. He worked with care, ignoring the man’s gasps of pain and cries. He fought the bucking, settling his ass hard on the man’s shoulder as he freed the injured limb. Blood ran freely, the wound deep and ragged. Hanzo ripped his hair tie out and bound the cotton over the gash. 

“I must get you inside. We must disinfect the wound.” Hanzo stood up, steady despite the rock of the boat. There was little time to consider the how and whys of his sudden injured guest, only the need to help.

Warm brown eyes caught his gaze, pulling at his soul like gravity and the man wordlessly raised his hand. Hanzo took it, suddenly unable to speak as he realized just how much bigger the stranger was. Not just broad in the chest but larger, longer and Hanzo’s hand was engulfed completely. 

He swallowed hard, cheeks red and raw from the ocean breeze as he began to pull. The man began to rise from the mess of fish and netting, his red and gold serape tattered around his hips.

It shifted and the sun flashed blindingly bright off what was below. it froze Hanzo, eyes wide and heart in his mouth. He couldn’t look away as a massive tail swished over the deck, scattering the fish and a massive fin rose. Droplets like diamonds were flung through the air. Golden scales more precious and shining than the finest coins rippled in a sensual line.

It flowed smoothly up to merge into the smooth tanned skin of the man’s hips, just below the deep cut line of bone and muscle. A trail of scales arched up to tease over the hard plane of his stomach in place of hair.

The hand over his tightened gently and the merman’s lips parted to speak. All Hanzo could see were the heavy fangs that hung in his mouth, far longer than any human-canine.

A pained smile and the man was speaking again, slower and slightly higher in pitch. This time Hanzo registered the sound, heart thundering painfully as he foolishly looked into the man’s eyes again.

“I’m Jesse.” The merman shifted to try to sit up, tail slapping to brace on the wet deck. “I think… you saved my life. but I’d hate to lose it anyway.” He looked pointedly at the bloody bandage on his arm.

“I am Hanzo.” He swallowed around the disbelief in his throat. “I will fetch the first aid kit.” 

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bad decisions | M

Thanksgiving (smut) drabble game: 7. dry humping + Taehyung!

Originally posted by bangtanroyalty

warnings: PWP,  drunk hook up, some good ol’ frottage and a measly handjob. 
word count: 1.5K+

Taehyung sighs in the curve of your neck, lips roaming the soft expanse of skin as his hands can’t seem to find a resting spot in the curves of your body. It’s one am and the silence in his dorm room is as overwhelming as it is exciting; you blame on the bottle of vodka the two of you had while studying for finals.

One hour ago it seemed like a good idea. One hour later, not so much.

Keep reading

With only the stars to guide him, Yuuri visits the shore one evening. Bundled in a dinner vest. Clothes he could’ve worn to a work party, but he decided to visit the beach instead. Glass of champagne perched near his lips. He wonders if Viktor’s out on a night like this. Looking up to the same moon? The same stars? Yuuri never realized how pretty the stars were until he was alone. The ocean breeze combs through his hair, and Yuuri’s lips part from the champagne glass.

All he could hear were the waves, coming up close but not close enough. The water barely grazed his shoes, and Yuuri didn’t step back. Was he not scared? Even with alcohol in his blood, Yuuri wasn’t stupid enough to step forward. He simply stood, grounded to where he was. In a silence that would only break because of a scream, but he didn’t. Yuuri whistled. A few, fluttering chirps before he heard a splash from somewhere in the darkness.

It was Viktor, it was always Viktor.

It was always Viktor because Yuuri wouldn’t know why he’d be here at the beach, alone with alcohol thumping against his ear. It was always Viktor because he rarely turned a shy eye when Yuuri needed him the most. It was always Viktor, and Yuuri hated it.

He couldn’t give anything in return. He was always bound to obligations, shackled around the neck with expectations. And Viktor, Viktor had none. He was free to roam wherever he pleased, yet he chained himself to this one beach for Yuuri’s sake.

Sometimes, Yuuri wanted to say, “Viktor, you don’t have to see me anymore.”

“You don’t have to give me gifts.”

“You don’t have to waste your life on me.”

“Please, be yourself.”

But how could Yuuri could say any of those things when Viktor poked his head up from the water and flashed him a toothy grin. Pure bliss, an unfailing joy because Yuuri was special to Viktor, and the fact always reeled him back to the shore. Where he saw Yuuri and widened his eyes, wondering why they were meeting again when it wasn’t morning yet.

Yuuri had an answer, but he didn’t want to say.

anonymous asked:

Woahhhh buga who kissed u?sorry if it's personal

Hhhh one of my closest friends. After sixth period I went over to the cafeteria with her and my other friend to wait for the guy I was gonna fight and I handed her my earrings and glasses and pulled my hair up higher and she was like “I’m scared for u but I believe in u” and then she told me to close my eyes and I was confused but did it and then she just kissed me on the lips. And then we parted and I was like “Aww omg” and my other friend who was with us was all excited and happy for us lol. Then she wrote some cute lil messages on my arm in German (Cuz she’s German and stuff) I’m honestly not sure what our relationship “is” at this point but yeah I feel all lovey dovey and stuff rn lol

anonymous asked:

“I’m not jealous! It’s just… you’re mine!” Lucio + MC?

Lucio, why did you pull me away from that party?“ I asked in confusion. Was something wrong? Did I screw up?

I was worried for a few minutes until I saw the faint flush creeping upon his pale cheeks.

“Lucio… are you … jealous?” My eyes widened and my lips parted in surprise and slight amusement. Lucio scowled and glanced away, clearly embarrassed.

“I’m not jealous! It’s just … You’re mine.” He answered furiously.

My expression softened. “Hey, I know. I’ll always be yours, there’s no need to get jealous.” I pecked him on the lips and chuckled. “Lucio, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good. You’re not allowed to, MC.”

anonymous asked:

Lucius’s flute melody shall convey things words cannot, and Voldemort will be enchanted by the haunting notes. Harry, lips parted, will cling tighter onto his captor’s frame, relaxed by a silver woodwind. But the awed moment will be startlingly short. The flute will be ripped out Lucius’s uncharacteristically tender hands by Voldemort, angered by the control Lucius will have. Yet Lucius will not be perturbed by the theft. His lips, admirably steady, shall say: “I look forward to your marriage,”

Narcissa is internally swooning. “That’s why I married him,” she whispers to Harry. “Such a man.”

Lucius catches her eye. He crosses the room, picks up his wife like a bride, and takes her to the fireplace. “To Paradise,” he says as he somehow tosses floo powder into the fireplace while holding onto Narcissa. They disappear into the green flames. Harry is flustered. Voldemort drops the flute. Draco… is mortified. 

@dnteverdoubtme​ early birthday drabble  🎈 🎁

v; darling everything’s on fire

Jace’s closed eyes fluttered gently with his soft breath, the leather under his cheek a comforting smell grounding his floating consciousness. He had been on his knees for hours now and the wooden floor was carving creases on his skin even through pants, but he couldn’t feel it. There was a permanent line of goose bumps drawing the shape of his spine, from his nape down to the top of his pants, and his lips were lightly parted, letting out warm, long, breaths, against the strong thigh muscle that held his head safe. His hands were scraped raw, closed on his lap, and smelled like sanitizer, though to his own nostrils the smell was much fouler, more bitter and salty still, and the redness more than scraped off skin to his own eyes. There was a light shudder down his body at the thought, but comparatively smaller to the consecutive ones he’d been having before, even after his strong hands pushed him down to the ground just as his knees had given up.

The hand on his hair stopped, then tugged hard enough to make him gasp, before continuing to run through it with renewed effort and Jace’s shoulders slumped down again. He whined almost with no sound at all, but was answered quickly with a firm shushing noise and the hand not on his hair slipped to his throat and held it — just enough strength to make him feel the pressure, and his heartbeat slowed down again. There was still reminiscent guilt, even as he accepted, and eagerly gobbled down every ounce of comfort he was being given. Not even he could squash down all of it. Jace pressed his lips tighter against the leather and breathed the strong scent in, to try and erase from memory the smell of too much blood and every other thing he’d been made a master at extracting from humanoid bodies. Never clean, never clean.

“You’re being so good for me.”

Jace moaned as the dark voice ran over him like all of his body was being caressed at once. He opened his eyes for the first time in hours, and it was a little disorienting at first, though they quickly found a focus spot on incredible shades of blue. His face was blushed with pleasure but there was lingering doubt in his hazed over gold gaze, and the hand on his throat tightened, making him moan again.

“So good.”

He insisted, he always did, sometimes for hours until Jace could believe it. He closed his eyes again for a moment, and when he reopened them, they were lighter than before, but there must had been something still pleading about his expression, because next thing he knew, Alec was bending over and pressing their mouths together. Alec knew the gentlest ways to douse Jace in the possessiveness he knew made his heart sing, and it did on his ears as Jace received the kiss like a sacred sip from the Mortal Cup, brows furrowed as though even just that was almost too much. He didn’t realize he was clinging to his jacket, until Alec pulled away and carefully coaxed his hands to let go.

Jace stood there panting, as his calloused fingers traced worried patterns over his harmed skin, but Jace didn’t wince, he never did. He turned his palms up, and did the same there, and Jace felt his body slow down as if waiting for something.


Alec got up and Jace bit on his cheeks not to let out a sound, though by the time he got back his still raised hands were stiff, and Alec took hold of them as soon as he sat back down, making Jace breathe.

“I’m going to take care of them, and when I’m done, they will be perfectly clean, got it?”

Jace nodded when his stern gaze fell on him, unsure if he could already speak, and grateful when Alec didn’t push him to. Alec picked up the gauze, doused it in saline and then he started to press it over Jace’s inflamed skin with complete focus.

He lost track of how many pieces of gauze and minutes Alec used, and by the time he started to rub in the salve in, his mind had started to drift pleasantly again. Alec carefully bandaged his hands, from wrists to palms, and when he was done, he brought each one to his lips and planted passionate kisses on each of his fingers, knuckles and pads. Those that had taken so many lives. When he finished, Jace’s heart was speeding again, and there was nothing but open gratitude in his eyes as he looked up at him. Alec bent over and brought him to his lap. Jace resisted the urge to bury his face on his neck, to marvel at his face from up close, and Alec traced every line on his own, as he gazed back.


He sighed. “Yes.” His voice was rough from lack of use, but Alec didn’t seem to mind when the tone was finally honest. Jace was kissed again, and wondered not for the last time, when had the Angel thought he deserved such a gift.

He did press his nose and lips and face against the warm, stubbled skin on Alec’s neck, as he was let go to breathe, and was rewarded by the return of the long strong fingers on his hair. They stayed like that until Jace couldn’t tell them apart anymore, and the caress was all he was aware of. When Alec spoke, he was almost startled to realize he wasn’t sleeping.

“Tomorrow. During the Paris mission. We’re getting out of here.”

He pulled back to look at him, but as Alec held his eyes in his own, he couldn’t remember why they shouldn’t, or find a protesting word to say. He could feel the part of his brain that was the leader, the soldier, the killer, the Hand of God, trying to rise up, but the decisiveness in Alec’s words washed it back out.

“This ends. Tomorrow.”

Jace pushed himself forward and up and pressed his lips as tight as he could against Alec’s shoulder, wrapping arms around his neck, and Alec held him back. He wished he had ever learned to say the words, but he hoped his heartbeat against Alec’s was enough of a speech. If this was going to terrify him in the morning there was no space for it now. Alec’s lips were soft against his ear, just enough to make him shudder again, but there was no disgust left. 

He couldn’t remember when he fell asleep, but he woke up the next morning on his bed, with Alec’s expanding chest on his back, and his possessive hand on his heart. He had his mind back, monsters and strength, and all, and yet, remembering the heat in Alec’s voice, he knew that somehow they’d make it through. And if Alec wanted to run, Jace would raise hell to fight him free.

anonymous asked:

good thing: bokuto laughing very loudly so his eyes screw up and his nose crinkles and akaashi's heart melts and he pulls this ridiculous pining face and parts his lips and when bokuto stops laughing akaashi immediately goes back to his unimpressed regular expression and tells bokuto to practice his receives

oh this is a very good thought indeed.