Authors Note: Au where Harry is a Frat Boy. I don’t know where this is going. It was hard to write though.
Harry Masterlist foundHERE To Enter to win tickets for Harry Styles IN Nashville TN, HERE
I was never the character to continuously go to parties, get drunk, or even go out every Friday night.
I regularly prefer to stay in on Friday nights, revising for the tests or doing the homework that I’m drowning in.
I perpetually overhear the stories that go around every Monday morning, after some sort of party that sparked everyone’s interests.
I continually hear the late night giggles and drunken stumbles in the hallways’ of my dorm. Every Saturday morning, around two, I hear the laughs of tipsy and intoxicated classmates’ that never seizes to disturbs me from my sleep or my studying.
I overhear the front door to the suit open, an indication one of my three suit mates are subsequently back from class, or shagging up with their boyfriends’ or their boyfriends’ friends.
To say the least, my suitemates are of some character, character that is different to my own. I always listen in on some of the scandalous stories that go on within the suit— they can be great friends’, but they don’t always make the best of decisions.
I narrow my eyes back to the book in my hand that is required to be read for English class, despite its terrible storyline and the fact it is borderline monotonous. For a moment, I am distracted when my suitemate enters the bedroom, a smile painted across her face. “What are you doing tonight?” She beams over to me, directing my attention away from the torturous book in my hand.
“I have a date with Bio, why?” I glance over at her, noticing how she is already rummaging through her clothes, perhaps trying to find something to wear for the evening.
“Come out with me, there is a party.”
“I need to do Bio, I’ll pass.” I shake my head, just as she flings a glittery black dress into my lap. I lift it off my lap and drop it to the bed.
“Bio will be there in the morning, get up. you need to have some fun.”
“I need good grades, actually.” I correct her, her posture straightening as she turns to glance at me.
“Get your ass up, put on a dress and heels, do something with your hair, and put the damn book down.” She narrows her eyes on the book still in my hand, “One night, that is it. I promise you won’t regret it.” She presses, determined to not allow me to pass on the opportunity to go out with her and probably get drunk and have guys hit on the two of us.
With a heavy sigh, I push myself off the bed, my fingers clasping the glittery dress, “Fine, but I want your psych notes, and I want those heels.” I gesture towards a pair of crimson red heels. She raises a brow, seeming surprised by my choice of colour.
“I said get dressed, not to look hot. I am surprised.” She gasps teasingly, my eyes rolling at her,
“I do know how to dress, surprisingly. Now, hand over the psych notes.” I smile, already beginning to undress and pull the dress over my body, adjusting it to fall perfectly.
“Damn, you brush up nicely without a book in your hand.” She chuckles, handing me her heels that I have requested for the night. I grin, giving her a shrug as I run my hands through my hair, debating whether I need to do anything to it.
I mutter under my breath my regret as I step into the rowdy house, parties are not really my thing—neither are Frat parties. I sigh, allowing my roommate to drag me into the house of swaying bodies and raucous noise, music echoing against the walls, laughter and chatter boisterously buzzing.
It takes me a while to settle into the atmosphere of overly enthusiastic and somewhat intoxicated figures, my hand already clasping a red solo cup with some sort of fruity drink poured into it. I hurried away from the vodka shots and settled on whatever it is that was poured into my cup. I assume it is a mix of fruits and vodka, but there is really no telling, the bartender seemed half intoxicated himself.
I glance over as a loud eruption of laughter takes my attention, a group of boys’ gathered around a pingpong table, shouting at each other, pushing and shoving as two of them go head to head in the battle of beer pong. I can’t help but chuckle at the pathetic attempt of the blonde in a pair of light dawn-tinted shorts and a white polo hung around his figure. There is no doubt in my mind that he is already at his limits end with alcohol, and his friends’ are just savouring his embarrassment with beer pong.
I wander closer to the table, considerately amused by the whole group; they appear to be having a lot more fun than the sweaty, dancing bodies in the other room, and they’re the only group of boys that aren’t trying to mount their dick onto anything that breathes and resembles the slightest bit of a female.
“Ah, we have a new spectator.” A guy gestures towards me, forcing all the attention to be focused on me, I shrug and take a sip of my beverage, “Guess you didn’t see the sign?” He comments,
“Which one?” I raise a brow, unsure of what he is referring to.
His mates grow quiet and his mouth begins to move, “This is not a game for chicks.” His sexist comment automatically causes me to roll my eyes.
Entitled, sexist fratboy— clearly a non-intelligent twat.
That’s Emma’s tale, and she’s sticking to it. She still
isn’t entirely sure how writing a song turned into, well, this. She was going
to just watch it on the TV. She wanted to stay in the background. But here she
is, sitting backstage with Ruby and the rest of the Norway team, blinking in
the flashing lights and trying not to look overwhelmed by the ridiculousness
all around her.
Because Eurovision is ridiculous. There’s a guy on stage
right now singing a high-pitched song about bread or something, while five
other men dressed as rain drops dance around him. Or maybe they’re tear drops;
Emma isn’t sure.
The point is, all Emma ever wanted to do was write a song,
and yet here she is at the weirdest music event she’s ever attended and wondering
about Europe’s collective sanity.
Elsa’s performance goes amazingly well, though, so there’s
that. The ice theme was the right choice, as Ruby remarks with satisfaction,
complementing the song while being weird enough to leave an impression. Emma was unsure about the robotic snow man whizzing around the stage, before, but she
understands the reasoning now. It’s probably the next meme already.
The crowd loves it, anyway.
Emma suffers through another ballad, this one sung by a
German lady who could really do with a bucket or something to help her carry
the tune. She’s only half-paying attention, most of her mind on Elsa and Ruby
and trying to look calm and relaxed for the cameras, in case any show up.
“Next up is the UK—let’s meet their candidate!” one of the
hosts (Emma keeps mixing them up) calls.
There are screens everywhere, showing the little clip that
plays before each country takes the stage. Emma pays no attention, because Anna
has started talking again, her nerves running away with her.
“… because really everyone says neighbours vote for each
other, but we don’t have that many neighbours and I’m not sure Sweden would
vote for us anyway, but I think that a lot of people also vote for the song
they like best and really Elsa has been the best so far, hasn’t she? And—”
“Anna,” Emma says, reaching over to put a calming hand on
the girl’s shoulder before she can drive them all to the brink of nervous
collapse again. “Anna. Relax. Elsa did her best, and now we just have to
wait and see.”
“I know, but—oh, he’s handsome, isn’t he?” Anna’s
eyes have snagged on the stage, where the UK’s candidate is about to begin his
Emma follows her gaze, thankful to the UK for distracting
Anna—and does a startled double-take.
Summary: You were Jungkook’s sunbae and trusted mentor, you never intended to seduce him but when you turn him on after a performance, when he already has pent up sexual energy coursing through his system, it leads to something explosive.
Warnings: None. It’s pretty vanilla just super explicit.
You were standing in
the corridor when Bangtan came offstage, waiting with a cheerful smile for your
favorite dongsaeng. Though there were a lot of newer artists who looked up to
you, and you tried to look after them, Jeon JungKook was the only one that you
made an effort to never forget.
You had taken him
under your wing, so to speak, ever since he said on TV that he wanted you to be
his mentor in singing. It was the sweetest thing you’d ever seen. You were
really flattered, especially since he made a cute little video message to you
saying that he really respected you as an artist and was your biggest fan.
Over time you came
to really admire JungKook too. Something about him struck you as special from
the moment you first met. You thought he was a really talented artist and you
were sure to always encourage him or brag on him to others whenever you had the
opportunity. You always wanted to help JungKook in any way possible.
That night your
group and his were performing on the same awards show so you had made a mental
note to say hi to him. Your schedule was really tight, so it had to be now.
Even though you hated to bug him when he first came offstage it was better that
than to lose your chance altogether. And so you were there when Bangtan came
down the hall, laughing and talking, sweaty and buzzed from their successful
called out when he got close enough to hear you.
When he saw you his
already happy expression seemed to brighten even more. While his group members
carried on to their dressing room he came over to greet you, smiling his
brilliant smile at you.
“Hi noona,” he said,
his honeyed tone caressing your ears as usual. You had noticed that JungKook
seemed to be born with a particularly pleasing voice but it still surprised you
how you never got sick of hearing it. “Did you watch us just now?”
You nodded. “The
performance was great. You worked really hard,” you said, beaming and
practically bursting with pride.
“Really? Thank you,”
he said, starting to blush and fidget and play with his hair. “I’m so glad you
You could have sworn
that he glanced down your dress at your cleavage, but you knew you must have
“I always enjoy
watching you perform,” you said. Then you immediately wondered if it sounded
and Archie are best friends, who happen to flirt with each other. Everyone
thinks it’s obvious you’re smitten with each other but neither of you have the
courage to say anything. One night at a party a little liquid courage helps
ease the tension.
x Reader, Betty, Veronica, Jughead, Kevin.
Heated making out, underage drinking.
Word Count: 1475
As was tradition on a Saturday night in Riverdale, we were
getting ready to head to a party at Thornhill. We arranged to get ready at
Betty’s. Her parents were away for the weekend plus she was the most trustworthy, nobody’s parents would bat an eyelid at the innocent sleepover we proposed. I rang the doorbell and was greeted by Veronica.
‘Oh thank god, you’re here. I’m having a major outfit
crisis!’ I hid a laugh as we walked upstairs, Veronica had the biggest wardrobe
out of us all and yet she was the one with the crisis.
‘Yay, you’re here!’ Betty jumped up and hugged me, with
one side of her hair curled and the other straight. We were definitely getting
into party mode.
‘So what’s this outfit emergency?’ I dared to ask.
Veronica stood with a dress in either hand. Each looked exquisitely
made, clearly designer.
Kinda the same continuity as this story but not really a second part, but kinda is.
Warnings: NSFW, Sexual Content, Rough Sex, Spanking, Daddy Kink.
Summary: After seeing AJ looking absolutely DADDY AF ™️ I had to write a fic about it. So basically its the HOF and bratty OFC and dominant daddy AJ Styles head there together. They have an existing relationship, Smut happens.
It always takes time to sort yourself out after a reaping, even a relatively pleasant one. That’s why, even though you’d like to rejoin Sam, Amanda and Lexi in the cafeteria, you head back to the dorms.
You don’t feel any different after. Some legends say that you eat the souls of the dead, praying on them for sustenance. You’d like to say that Reapers never do that, that they never commit such a heinous crime, but you’ve been around long enough to know better than to lie. There are words for Reapers who eat, none of which you’d dare say here. Names give things power and eaters get more than their fair share to begin with.
You shiver under the blazing sun and try to turn your mind to more pleasant topics.
You are halfway back to your room, when you see Ms. Jan, Mr. T and Principal Finn rushing towards the animal husbandry building. Mr. T’s upset enough that his mane has burst free of his button-down shirt though he’s the only one of the three so affected. Ms. Jan, all banshee characteristics gone, is composed as she leads the group, strides long and purposeful. Principal Finn is listening to her seriously, his wheelchair rolling over the grass easily, with a grim expression on his face.
This is, of course, until he sees you.
You keep your expression blank as Principal Finn says something to Ms. Jan and Mr. T, gesturing for them to go on, and then directs his motorized wheelchair towards you.
This is compatible with whichever Tony-ship you want (superhusbands, ironpanther, pepperony, stuckony, ironfalcon, ironhusbands, etc)
Fuck the belief that Tony Stark would be a shitty dad just because of
his father, because sometimes the victims of abuse want to be the exact
opposite of their abusers. Also, I’ve seen so many art and fics going around
about Tony being the irresponsible parent as to let his children do anything
dangerous; we’ve already seen him interact with children in canon and he is
nothing of the sort. So give me a Tony Stark who is wonderful with children, a
natural when it comes to hang out with them because well, he’s a bit of a child
himself. Give a Tony who is the kind of parent who is careful but also easy
going, the kind of father who laughs at everything the baby/child does, you
know, all those silly things.
The kid makes a face when they eat lemon? Give me a Tony who laughs his
ass off as he gives the kid lemons and oranges to taste.
The kid laughs at the sound of ripping paper? Give me a Tony who gathers
all the scrap paper around the house to spend hours ripping it and hearing the
kid laugh their ass off.
Give me a Tony who gets a laundry machine just so the baby can sit on it
and laugh when the thing vibrates as it works.
A Tony Stark who lets the kid use the very fancy lamp screen as a hat
and toddle around the living room until they knock on something and fall on the
Give me a Tony Stark who laughs himself hoarse as he makes the baby’s
gums squeak with the pad of his finger.
A Tony Stark who doesn’t rush to the kid when they fall and overprotects
them and forbids them to play again, but rather walks calmly, makes sure the
kid isn’t hurt and gets them to stand back up, laughing at the whole silliness
Give me a Tony who lets the kid jump on his bed and purchases a fuck ton
of pillows to lie them around the floor just in case the kid falls.
A Tony Stark who’d take the kid of the beach and build a sand castle
complete with towers and dungeons and then laugh when the kid decides to play Godzilla
and destroy everything.
Give me a Tony Stark who baby proofs all his house but still manages for
it to look stylish but still doesn’t care at all when said stylishness if ‘ruined’
by baby toy’s lying around the living room, or the kid’s drawings on the
fridge, or the occasional plush toy lying on the couch.
A Tony who wouldn’t mind to say goodbye to the expensive marble floors
of his living room and replaces them with soft, hypoallergenic carpet when the
baby starts to learn how to crawl so they could do it freely without any
Give me a Tony Stark who’d very gladly wake up in the middle of the
night and slow dance in his pajamas while playing soft music with a very upset
little baby cuddled to his chest because they’re teething.
A Tony Stark who sings their kid to sleep or whenever they have
nightmares, instead of telling them ‘good, but go back to your room’, he pats
the bed next to him and lets them cuddle up, no matter how tired he is or how
early he has to up in the morning.
Give me a Tony who cracks up when the baby tries to take and eat the
food from the pages of magazines, so he sits down with the baby on his lap and
turns the page saying things like “Oh, look, cake, now that looks delicious” as
the baby reaches with a pudgy hand and tries to eat it.
A Tony who sits down on the floor and draws and paints with the kid,
maybe he’s getting some work done but since the kid likes to ‘help’ daddy, Tony
gives them some scrap paper and sits down with them, and when he finishes he
always tells them how much they helped him.
Give me a Tony who laughs his ass off when he catches the kid making a
mess of himself and the carpet and the walls and the table with paint, because instead
of yelling he would laugh and tell Jarvis to take photos and then take the kid
for a bath and gently scrub the paint off their hair and each little finger and
‘how did you even get paint in your ears and your teeth?’
A Tony who gets a ton of cardboard boxes to build the kid a castle they
can play in; he also orders styrofoam peanuts and dumps them all over the
living room so the kid can play belief that it’s snow.
Give me a Tony who purchases a Roomba so the baby can sit on it and ‘travel’
around the room laughing and clapping.
A Tony who lets the kid decide what clothes to wear no matter his age or
gender; if the kid wants to wear a dress and glittery shoes then he’d get him
the prettiest dresses and shoes around, if the kid wants to wear shirts and
shorts he’d just ask in what color and if they want cartoons on them, if the
kid wants a chicken onesie he’d get them the cutest one, if the kid wants to go
around naked then well, Tony would explain they couldn’t do it outside but that
they can do all they want at home.
Give me a Tony Stark who would go out and play in the rain with the kid,
making mud pies and all.
A Tony who’d gently nurse the kid when they get ill, and I’m talking
about cuddles and slow-dancing and chicken soup.
Give me a Tony who is a kickass blanket fort architect who would build
the most epic blanket forts ever, with soft pillows and blankets and tiny little
lights and if the kid wants to live in a blanket fort for a few days that’s perfectly
okay with him, hell, he might even sleep with them in there too.
A Tony who would give the kid all the love he has, all the hugs and
cuddles and baby talk and silly pet names and all the kisses, kissing chubby
cheeks and tiny hands and tiny little baby feet, and he wouldn’t just do it in
the privacy of their home, no, he’d do it all the time no matter who was there,
let the world know how much he loves the kid.
Give me a Tony who doesn’t care if the kid does or doesn’t turn out to
be a genius like him, he still loves them all the same, he is extremely patient
with them in a way his own father could never and would never be with him when
he was a child. He’d leave everything and anything he’s doing if the kid needs
or wants his attention; he’d pick the kid up when they want cuddles while daddy
reads some important papers, Tony would take calls and have video calls with
the kid whenever he has meetings or he has to go away on business trips, every
single day without missing one.
Tony who would give his kid the gender/sexual orientation/heathy, responsible,
consensual sexual life (or lack thereof) talk without making them feel
embarrassed and finish it off with a ‘no matter who you are or who you
love I’ll always love you’.
A Tony who would patiently explain death to the kid and hold their hand
and hug them as they cry when their first pet dies.
Give me a Tony who would laugh his ass off when the kid grabs his
electric razor and shaves half of their head by accident because they wanted to
shave like daddy in the mornings, he then would proceed to shave the rest of
the hair off and explain to them that hair grows and how they can have it of
any length and color they want.
A Tony who would give the kid crazy hairdos and beards and moustaches
out of foam when it’s bath time.
Just give me a Tony Stark who’s such a good, loving, caring father to
(note. Short story for @blueberryballoons contains breast and butt expansion, and suggestive themes)
“Humph.” Kate pouted as she sat down at the edge of her bed. She just came home after a long day of college classes. She stared straight ahead into the mirror in front of her that stood on top of her dresser. She eyed herself up and down, straightening her back and turning her head from side to side. She stood up from the bed and turned around in the mirror, bending over and trying every sexy pose she could think of. No matter what Kate did, she still wasn’t confident enough in her body. She didn’t think she was pretty, flawless, or gorgeous as her friends always told her she was. She sighed and flopped back onto the bed, staring up into the ceiling.
“I just wish my body would change, I’m so sick of the same old me. I want bigger boobs and a bigger ass like all the other girls I know. It’s not fair.” She groaned. Suddenly a low rumbling shook the room slightly, flickering the lights on and off. She looked around the room in fear, she’d never been in an earthquake before. She stood up and was about to run for the open doorframe when suddenly there was a loud crash. The double Windows to the left of her bed sprung open and a small purple glittery from came tumbling in through the air like a badly thrown football. It clattered to the ground and rolled a few times, letting out little polite “Ooh”-s and “Eek”-s as it spun.
“Oh dear, oh my, oh heavens.” The small little woman mumbled to herself as she stood to her feet brushing dust and paint and wood chips off of her glittery purple dress. She was no taller than 3 feet, had a face caked with makeup, silver gray hair pulled up into a bun, and carried a child’s plastic magic wand. Kate stood there leaning against the dresser, her hand over her heart with an expression of shock painted on her face.
“Why hello there darling!” The woman cheerfully chided. “Sorry for such a rude entrance, I’m still getting use to the new wings.” She giggled, pointing to the fluttering neon wings on her back. Kate still stood there frozen in disbelief.
“W-Who…” Kate whispered quietly, slowly recoiling from the shock and stepping closer to the magical woman.
“Now that’s no way to greet your fairy godmother!” The woman said playfully.
“M-My fairy wha?” Kate continued to mumble.
“Come give me a hug, darling!” She said so reassuringly that Kate began to step forward. She crouched down onto one knee as the fairy wrapped her small gloved hands around Kate and gave her a tight hug. “My, my, you feel so thin child. What are these people feeding you? Tsk tsk.” She said disapprovingly.
“So you’re my fairy godmother? Like in the movies?” Kate asked with childlike wonder, staring into the fairy’s eyes.
“Yes, yes! Of course. Every young girl has one. You can call me Bellinda.” She said with a smile on her kind, aged face. “Now, I heard you muttering some nonsense about your frame. I understand it’s causing you some distress. In my opinion you should love yourself no matter how you look, especially a girl as beautiful as you.” Bellinda smiled stroking Kate’s cheek with the back of her palm. Kate smiled back, her cheeks blushing. She stood up from her crouched position. Bellinda followed Kate, her wings flapping effortlessly like those of a hummingbird as she raised two feet in the air to match Kate’s height and just hovered there.
“Now you’re in luck little lady. You see fairies like me that have been around a while have the ability to grant one major wish every month or so. I’m ready, are you?” Bellinda asked.
“Uh, well I-” “Great! Now take that hoodie off, we wouldn’t want to damage it. All you’ll need is a plain white t-shirt and some bottoms you don’t care very much for.” Bellinda said sternly as she began to wave some kind of magic over the end of the wand. Kate stood there for a minute confused before she turned around and walked to her closet and changed.
Two minutes later Kate emerged in a baggy white t-shirt and some running shorts. She stood there in a cute, awkward way with her hands in her pockets waiting for Bellinda’s approval. The Fairy turned her head, “Oh! Perfect! Now come here dear.” Kate walked over to Bellinda. “Stand here in the middle of the room” She said “Yes, perfect.”
Bellinda began to wave her wand in the air, magic glitter and sparkles appearing around the end of the wand as she muttered some nonsense spell.
“Bippity…Boppity….BOOP!!” She yelled as a pink laser blast shot out of the end of the wand, sending Bellinda across the room. The beam shot directly into Kate’s belly before disappearing and encasing Kate in a pink aura that made her feel funny for a moment, like her whole body had fallen asleep, and then the aura faded. Kate stood there in the moonlight, the room filled with silence, looking down at her body for any noticeable changes.
“Nothing happ-” Kate stopped herself. A small muffled sound could be heard, like an inflated balloon slowly letting out air. She looked down as she felt a pressure around her chest. She looked down the collar of her loose shirt and saw her bra slowly begin to push out and rise, obscuring the view of her flat stomach.
“Oh my god.” Kate whispered. She gently placed her hands onto her tits, feeling them press out into her hand. They were filling with air like balloons! She was completely fascinated, feeling her boobs grow bigger, rounder, and perkier. And it was soon visible as her breasts surpassed a B cup, pressing out against the white fabric. She was amazed, watching her once small boobs grow bigger and bigger before her eyes and they showed no sign of stopping. A sudden feeling of arousal washed over her.
That feeling was quickly overridden by a new sensation. She felt the same pressure as before only around her backside. She tried to look over her shoulder left and right but couldn’t. She jogged over to the standing mirror, her new still-growing tits bouncing with each step. She turned to the side and arched her right leg. What she saw she couldn’t believe. Her once loose running shorts seemed to be shrinking in size. The loose cuffs began to ride up her thighs as they thickened and plumped up along with her butt. Her ass began to grow fatter and fatter, filling out the backside of the shorts. She spun around, seeing her perky bubble butt continue to grow along with her new thunder thighs. She was being flooded with this feeling of arousal. She’d never been turned on by her own body, and now she finally could.
Her ballooning tits had stretched and lifted the white t-shirt to the point that it looked like a white crop top displaying her entire stomach. Her shorts were now practically panties, completely wedged between her ass cheeks. The erotic feeling was intense. She had been completely bomb shelled and bimbo-ified. The waves of pleasure ran over her again, as she moaned and quivered. She had to act on this urge immediately. She closed her eyes and absent-mindedly crawled into bed entirely powered by pleasure. Under the covers she began to rip off her ruined clothing and appreciate her new ass.
“I’ll leave you alone for this part dear.” Chuckled Bellinda as she fluttered out the window, it closing behind her leaving a trail of purple glitter tinkling to the ground.
(Follow @blueberryballoons and show some love, may be the first of a few short stories involving other Tumblr users?? Not sure yet)
If you’re going to tell me that Gamzee Makara–the troll who carries around glittery special stardust to throw in their own face at periodic intervals–wouldn’t actively try to glue as many sparkly things to their face as possible, you’re wrong and I’ll fight you.