hair fling



i saw some other simmers making their own “virtual mods folders,” and since i can’t code very well, this is coming to you in a series of posts that i will be organizing on my page.

(from left to right, top to bottom)

1. @simlaughlove​‘s low double buns (i use both the bangs/no bangs version)

2. @moon-craters​‘s nova hair

3. @pixielated‘s dee bun

4. @khrysasims‘s coachella braid (doublebun version)

5. @gohliad‘s kyoto hair

6. blossom hair from the spring fling stuff pack by @deetron-sims, @pixielated, and @nolan-sims

7. iris hair, also from spring fling stuff

8. @simduction‘s bun low hair

I have this image of 19 year old Sirius Black with his motorcycle and leather jacket and tattoos walking in a flinging his hair back in the sexiest manner.. like ‘damn this isn’t a boy, it’s a man’.

But then I also have this image of Sirius Black sitting on the couch in a massive t-shirt and Remus’ boxers grinning and watching cartoons at like 6 in the morning whilst eating Frosties and smoking a joint and it’s like ‘nope i was wrong, its a small child


Characters:  Dean x Reader, Sam 

Summary:  Dean gets a little jealous/turned on watching reader hustle pool.

Word Count:  2200

Warnings:  Smut, Language

Tags are at the bottom.  As always, feedback is welcomed and appreciated.

Originally posted by kissabledeanw


I watch her from across the bar, from the booth Sam and I snagged by the wall. She knows my eyes are on her, it’s part of the thrill. It’s her night to hustle pool, she insists on contributing. I know she can handle herself, but I get kinda protective watching her.  

And jealous. I mean, I know it’s part of the con, the way she leans over that table, the way her breasts press together when she lines up a shot. The way she giggles and smiles and teases her marks.  

She told me once that there were two rules for a woman hustling pool. First, make sure the guy you’re hustling feels like he can easily beat you. Building their confidence is key. Second, make them feel like they have a shot at fucking you. Follow those two rules and you’re golden, she said. Every fucking time.

Men underestimate her when she’s in the short skirt and the tank top with plunging neckline. If I’ve learned one thing in this life, it’s never underestimate a woman. She proves the rule. Sam and I always keep a close eye on her, because there’s always that one guy that pushes a little too hard, a little too fast, gets a little too handsy.

She’s never needed us for backup, but it never fails to make my blood boil when they put hands on her. She lets them, it’s part of the game. They’ll wrap an arm around her waist or line up behind her to “help” her with a shot. I know it’s all part of the hustle, but it makes me feel a little crazy. And it makes me horny as fuck.

Keep reading

BTS Reaction to catching you jamming to their music-

(for anon)


Originally posted by pjmksj

When Jin came home to the sound of No More Dream blasting throughout the house, he found cute you dancing like a psycho in a full mud face mask. He laughed that perfect laugh before sneaking up behind you and lifting you up into his arms which caused you to scream. “YOU’RE SO ADORABLE!” He yelled while you screamed.


Originally posted by allforbts

Yoongi came into the kitchen from the studio for a snack when he found you jumping up and down and banging your head to Go Go. He couldn’t help but laugh and look at you with adoration as he leaned against the wall and just watched you. 


Originally posted by syubto

When Hoseok walked into your bedroom with a towel around your body and around your hair flinging around from all your crazy dancing. He watched his million dollar smile and clapped for you. “So good babe! But no look, watch me okay? 1, 2, 3, 4….”

Rap Mon-

Originally posted by ksjknj

When Namjoon walked into your house and saw you dancing like crazy to Run, he smiled and lifted his arms to make a heart. “I’ll talk to he dance line about changing the moves to yours, love.”


Originally posted by hajimajimin

Jimin heard 21st Century Girl blasting as he got of the shower. He found you in your bedroom going crazy, shaking your body along to the song. He clapped for you as the song finished as your number ended. “Babe look, this was you!” He said while trying to imitate your moves. 


Originally posted by jimiyoong

When Taehyung found you in your living room dancing along to Blood, Sweat, and Tears, he pulled out his phone immediately and started recorded. “She’s gonna be SO pissed when I post this.”


Originally posted by hobiloween

As Jungkook watched you shake it to Cypher 4, he couldn’t help but giggle and stare at you with love. Once you saw him watching and ceased all movements, he frowned. “No keep going, I loved it! Even if it was the wrong choreography!”

You Are Mine!

Angry Anti request! I love writing these sorts of fics. 

Fic Request: 
“Hi i was just wondering if you can write an antisepticeye x reader fanfic or headcanon again?? preferably something rough and possessive bc the fluff is nice but i need the good ol aggression. thanks ps. i love ur work with my entire soul”

Warnings: Violence, a bit of blood, bondage.

Originally posted by floralcrownjack

His hand caught your throat, throwing you up against the wall with a loud thud. 
The twitch in his head was wild, flinging his hair left and right, as he snarled at you. 
“So you think you can just walk out?” He scoffed. “I wouldn’t let you, even if you begged for it.” 
You squirmed under his hand. He gripped you tightly enough to stop you from going anywhere, but not enough to completely cut off your air. 
You glared at him, “Let me go, Anti.” 
“Or what?” He spat. “Y-You’ll hit me? Hurt me? Please, you couldn’t harm a flea.” 
Your foot came up between his legs in a vicious kick. He grunted and his grip loosened. You pushed him away and hurried towards the door. 
But before you got three steps, Anti’s hand clasped around your waist and spun you to face him. 
“Come now, Sugarlips.” He cackled. “That wasn’t very nice.” 
You went to kick him again, but his other hand caught your leg before it struck home. He yanked it and you fell to the floor in a crumbled heap. 
Anti trapped you there, holding your wrists to the floor and pinning your body under him. 
“This is what I love,” He said with a wild smile. “This anger! Come on, (Y/N), get mad. Because I’m not going to stop till there’s blood.” 
You wriggled under his body, cursing him, screaming as he laughed. 
Finally, you managed to worm your hand out of his fingers and your fist cracked into the side of his face. 
He laughed, rubbing his cheek with a glint in his eyes. “Yes, Babe, yes. This is what I’ve been waiting for.” 

You glared up at him, suddenly ceasing your struggling. 
He looked down at you, confusion coloring those green eyes. “What are you doing?” 
“I’m not going to give you the satisfaction of hitting you again,” You spat up at him. “Go run headfirst into a wall.” 
Anti jaw clenched and he lowered his head down to you, so close your noses were touching. 
“You’re mine, (Y/N).” He growled. “And you’ll do as I say!” 
“Oh really?” You asked. In a blurred movement, you leaned up and kissed his jittering lips. Laughing as he jerked back in surprise. “Aww, surgarlips, that wasn’t very nice.” You cooed. “Come on, give me another one.” 
Anti sneered down at you, “You want to play, babygirl?” 
You nodded, “You started this Anti.” 
The man laughed, gripping your wrists tighter as he pressed himself against you. His lips were inches from yours, his breathe flowing over you as he spoke. 
“Yes, and sweetheart, I’m gonna finish it with a bang.” 
His lips crashed into yours. Quick, painful kisses that left you gasping when he pulled away. 
His teeth scraped your neck, biting hard on your skin and you gasped when he drew blood. His tongue licked over the broken flesh, his hips creating friction between your legs. 
You whimpered, trying to move your arms to hold him. 
“No, no,” He hissed. Anti released one hand and undid his belt. With a sharp flick of his arm, he yanked the leather strap from his pants and tied your wrists together. “Do me a favor,” He purred into your lips. “Don’t stop struggling.” 

You laughed, but the sound turned into a gasp when Anti clawed at your pants. Drawing them down and diving between your legs. 
You moaned, your hips bucking under his hand. His fingers were rough, pumping in and out of you as he continued to attack your lips. 
His teeth latched onto your bottom lip, and you squealed when he bit down. 
Anti chuckled, his eyes flaring as he watched you grind on his fingers. 
“See, you don’t need to go out with anyone to have fun.” He said edgily. “All you need is me.” 
You glared up at him, “Were we getting jealous, Anti?” You asked. “I was only going out with Taylor. You know the guy with the blonde hair and nice blue eyes?” 
Anti grinded his teeth, his fingers disappearing from your folds as he tore himself free of his jeans. 
“So that’s what you were doing?” He asked, anger fueling his words through his teeth. “I’ll kill that boy, and make you scream my name. You’re mine, (Y/N). No one else is to have you.” 
He drilled into you, making you cry out and arch against him. He held you down as he pounded his length into you. 
His teeth bit down on your skin, his lips crushing yours, bruising the pink flesh. 
Anti suddenly lifted you up. Your legs locked around his waist and he slammed you against a wall. 
You yelled out, turning into panted moans as Anti hammered you against the wallpaper. 
“Say my name,” He growled into your neck. “Who do you belong too?” 
“Anti!” You exclaimed, the knots in your stomach twisting with each painful thrust. 
“Again!” He ordered. 
“Anti! I’m yours, Anti!” You shouted. His movements became sloppy, but he somehow quickened the pace. 
“Good,” He snarled. “Don’t you forget it.” 
The knots in your stomach tightened, then, with a loud cry, you came undone, whimpering as Anti continued until he too, finished. 

Panting, he held you against the wall for a moment. Trembling and sleek with sweat, he lowered you to your feet and unwound the belt from your wrists. 
“Next time I won’t go so easy,” He told you. His fingers brushing the red skin of your wrists. 
You smiled, touching the bleeding lip with your finger. “Next time, don’t be so gentle.”

pidge headcanon power-hour
  • knows ASL, because her brother matt goes nonverbal sometimes
  • WILL lose her glasses when they’re sitting on top of her goddamn head
  • mashes together curse words to create what the rest of the team calls “pidgeisms”
    • “son of a rollicking motherfuck”, “shut up, assdick”, “you little hot pocket of ballshit”
    • normally hunk is the kind of person that scolds ppl for their language but his reaction to pidgeisms is always just “wait, what”
  • plays with hair ties & accidentally flings them across the room
    • hunk: [bends down to examine a hair tie in the hall] she’s been here…….
    • has defo hit shiro in the face with a hair tie when he was in the middle of explaining a mission
  • lance: [excited bouncing] pidge: [excited flapping]
  • can’t fucking spell for shit
  • her hair is a sentient beast, it just……… eats barrettes, and destroys hair ties, and breaks combs. no hair accessory is safe
    • one time one of the mice took a nap on her head while she was programming something, and it took coran, allura, and hunk’s combined efforts to wrestle the fucking thing out of her tangles later
  • uses science as a justification for pretty much everything
    • [draws on keith’s face as he naps in the common room] no hunk it’s fine, this is for a social experiment
    • [hogs the bathroom] excuse me i’m doing SCIENCE in here
    • [fucks up something on a mission] ……….ah, yes, my hypothesis was, um…… incorrect
  • pidge: god, lance never knows when to shut up and hunk’s anxious twittering drives me crazy. and i can’t stand how keith never thinks stuff through, he just actssomeone: wow that sounds awful, i’d hate to have to deal with that pidge: ………….now hold on what the fuck are you implying? deal with that? i’ll have you know my friends are some of the most incredible people in the world and if you ever say anything bad about them–
Request 77.6 Imagine You're a Fratboy Part 1

Imagine you’re a freshman going through rush week. You go to so many house but you accept the bid from smallest fraternity with the biggest house at the dark end of Greek row.  The frat had varied and illustrious alumni. You don’t know why they want you. You eagerly accept.

Once you join, it seems all you financial worries are resolved; an unrelated scholarship is given to you.  The frat has one weird proviso, a lottery is drown every night. If you are chosen you must sleep in your bed alone. So far you’ve been lucky able to party as much you like. Not mention the house keeps a special brew on tap and in bottles. It a very dark stout not to everyone like but you and you brother can’t get enough of it.  Freshman to seniors gained the freshman fifteen within the first month. Tanner,, the frat president, looks like he put on at least twice that much.

Whispers started that the frat house was haunted. Ridiculous. It’s a big hold house so there are bound to be weird noises.

Your luck runs out on Homecoming weekend. Almost everyone is out partying except for the three brothers and you, who lost the lottery. You were to stay home without any guests. You console yourself playing video games  and by drinking bottle after bottle of beer until you start to see double. You stagger down the hall to take the elevator to your bedroom. All the doors blast open.  The first two rooms are empty. But in the third room Tanner writhes on his bed like a mad man.  He shakes his head, his blonde hair flinging sweat. His ass is tilted up as though on a stack of pillows.   His cock strains and bobbing up and down frenetically until he cums.

You become aware of the grind of the zipper’s teeth your dick. You regret going commando as damp spot darkens your khakis.   You turn away embarrassed and confused.

Tanner grunts. “No ag-g-g-ain.”

You look back.  Tanner isn’t alone. A man made of phosphoresce webbing is with him.  He throws Tanner’s legs over his glowing shoulders, ramming his member into Tanner‘s raised ass. You run to your room. You press your back to the door, trying to control your breath. And then you pass out. Your dreams are freaky. You’re still against the door which seemed to have sprouted a massive erection.   Strong wood grained hand yank your cargo shorts down. You jump. Strong hands pull you back to the wooden wood.  

You want to laugh. But you’re so turned on in this drunken dream. You try to walk forward but you stumble tangled in your shorts.  Falling half on the bed bent on the edge, ass up.  You try to crawl up on to the bed but you are held in placed in a strong grip.

“You are mine.” Rasped a voice you tell yourself is in your head even has breath heats your ear. “Finally.”

Your cheeks separate exposing your hole to frigid air. The cold takes form of a lithe man made of black smoke. He aims his sizable cock at your butt, pushing through the resistance of your virgin hole. You grip the edge of the bed as pain blurs into pleasure. The cold plunges into you repeatedly, picking up speed, impossibly getting thicker and going deeper. Since it’s just a dream, you relax, becoming the most accommodating lover.  Taking to heart all the wheedling pleas you made to your high school girlfriend. It means nothing. You push your ass back meeting each thrust, unhesitatingly. A grey cloudy man wraps his mouth around your dick. Wetness swallows your member deep then releasing repeatedly with vigorous tongue. You seek deeper access to the pulsing warmth. Black smoke man yanks your head pulling an unknown trigger to your cock.

Gulping down your release the man of white smoke says, “He’s mine next.” Just as hot liquid fills you. The wooden man leans against the door. He shakes off the veneer becoming a ginger Clark Kent with a tent in his Khakis. With a thrill you know you will be his before the night ends.

You wake in a sticky mess of tangled sheets reminiscent of puberty. Your abdomen’s sore as if you’ve done hundreds of sit ups and your butt is inexplicably tender. You can’t keep the smile from your face as you walk into your wings shared bathroom. The sound of someone hurling echoes off the tiled wall.  Tanner walked to the next basin splashing water on his face.

“Party too hard?” You joke.

“Just you fucking wait.” Tanner growls at you.

So far the upperclassmen haven’t hazed you. However there was a threat to Tanner’s reaction.

 The first person you in the dining room is the broad back of Hank hunched over his breakfast. You sit across from him with a stack of pancakes and bacon. Hank’s eight plates take up the majority of the table. You don’t think much of it after all he’s a defensive lineman for the team, well over three hundred pounds.

He stirs in peaches in to last night’s chili.

You try to warn him of his mistake. “Umm”

“It’s good. You should try it.” He shovels a spoon full into his mouth.

You lose your appetite.

Mid-afternoon you return when all the brothers on your wing are in class. You drink three bottles of stout in your room before heading to the showers with two more bottles.

The hot water feels so good as you drink the frosty beer that you must have passed out right there.

“Are you ready boy?”

You look around to see who said that. You’re alone in the shower with the water. The water stands well over six tall and looked like a salty sea captain. You try to run out of the shower stall. Your escape is stopped by a solid sinewy arm of water. He lifts you easily and slams you into the tile wall. He runs his hands across your chest, your nipples harden. His damp scruffy beard rubs against the back of your neck. You turn your head to meet his mouth with a hungry kiss.

He pulls away growling, “Boy are you wanting me to roger you.”

“Just do,” you groan. You push your butt against the water’s thick cock in case he didn’t get it. He yanks your arms behind your back, he burying his cock in your ass to the balls. Balls which splash on your ass with every slap. You bite your lip to keep from making noise then you remember you’re dreaming.

“Give me that dick.” You grunt. “Fuck me raw.”

He reaches around gripping your cock in his calloused fist and starts to forcefully pump.  Your cum streams into the water.

He half drags you to your bedroom. He sits on your bed braced on his arms. The water pulses through his muscular body. You try to think how ghost made of water can be in your bed but dreams never make sense. Any way his penis has already pulsed erect. You slowly settle on to his erection and ride him to finish. You are not quiet.

Every night you dream, of being taken by the ghost in different forms, wood, steel, looking like actors and rock stars and just plain dudes. It didn’t matter. You wake happy.

 Tanner must have passed his bug almost everyone in the house. Every day you encounter at least one brother retching. You on the other hand, can’t get enough eat. Giving Hank a run for his money washed down with large amounts of the house brew. It’s Halloween you go out alone for the first time since homecoming weekend a month ago. Your nightly dreams have you questioning your sexuality.

Away from Greek row at a club you end up dancing with a couple dressed as the king and queen from your favorite show. She asks you back to their place.

“Before you say yes.” The king strokes your thigh. “Know I’m going to top.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

After a night of fucking and being fucked you walk across town in your gladiator costume. You never found out their names.  You have fewer questions.  And a growling stomach, you don’t know when you last ate.

You go directly to the dining room.

Tanner shouts, “The whore returns.”

The laughter gets further away, your face burns as you hit the ground.

You wake up on examination table, in the infirmary room.  A bugged eyed doctor has his fingers in your anus.

“Congratulations. You are the last brother to conceive.”

“What?” Thinking you’ve misheard.

“You’re pregnant.”

“The man behind the counter takes your cup of tea,
hands you money and you walk out the door.

Outside, water separates itself from your clothes, your hair,
the ground and flings itself into the sky on your way home.

You step inside and stand in front of the mirror. You smear

the lipstick on your lips back into the tube.

You hide your keys behind a cushion on the couch.
Spend the next ten minutes putting things back in order.

While you’re in the shower, you wipe the nervous
back into your body and tears travel up your cheeks.

Your mind dissolves into a million fragmented pieces
until you catch your breath and lie down. 

You tell someone you love you’re not scared as your mind quiets.
Your hands stop shaking as you pull the covers up and fall asleep. 

The sun creeps down and decides to go to sleep too.”

- Kelsey Danielle, “Reverse Panic Attack”

Unconfident Daryl

Daryl Dixon tells you he has a confession before one of your week long supply trips with Maggie, but once you return, Daryl seems a little hesitant to go through with it.

  • Daryl Dixon x Reader
  • 2024 Words
  • Warnings: Cussing, talk of sex.

The supply run was a complete bust, only arriving back at Alexandria with a few items on the list of things needed, plus a few things that weren’t listed. At this point, you couldn’t be too picky. Most towns were bare of anything salvageable and most runs took anywhere from two weeks to two months.

You fiddle with the small box in your hands, twisting it between your fingers as the truck pulls through the gates, seeing a very familiar face directing Maggie where to park. Abe was smiling, though you weren’t quite sure how to feel about that smile on his face. It was hard to pick Abraham sometimes, never knowing what was going through his mind.

“Find anything useful?” Abe asks, strolling over to your window and peering inside. He notices the box in your hand and raises an eyebrow. “That?”

“Shut up.” You push your door open and jump from the truck, landing on your feet perfectly. “It’s a gift.” You state as you walk by the ginger and help Maggie unload the bags. It wasn’t much, just a few cans of food and maybe there was a diaper bag in there for Judith. At this point, it was hard to remember what you grabbed.

“Hey!” Carl ran over, his hat sitting atop his head as usual, with a giant smile plastered across his cheeks. “Find any games?” He asked eagerly. The boy had been asking for any kind of entertainment for months now, since they found him a small gaming device that still worked, but only for the next couple of weeks. There was no way to charge it, bringing the fun to an end quickly for the growing boy.

Maggie’s lips turn down and she gently shakes her head at the young boy that had somehow passed her height. “Not this time, buddy.”

That doesn’t seem to bring Carl’s mood down too much. He grins, agreeing that next time they would have luck, and ran off to play with one of the other kids.

“What is with everyone?” You ask Maggie as you take the bags up to the kitchen. “It’s like a damn Hallmark movie up in here.”

Maggie laughs at your comment, nodding ever so slightly at the thought of such a happy life. “Wouldn’t that be nice? I can only remember the WalMart baby, though.”

“WalMart baby!” You giggle.

As you two talk about the movie, you come up to Daryl’s house. The garage door is open, revealing his precious motorcycle sitting in pieces. Though that wasn’t exactly what caught your attention. No, what caught your attention was the Dixon ass poking out from the hood of one of the old supply trucks. You knew it had run out of gas some time back and blown some sort of fuse. Daryl was asked weeks ago to fix it.

You feel your legs slow down as you got closer, wanting to linger just a little bit to watch as his butt wiggles in the air as he cussed at the engine and made a loud clanking sound with his tools.

Maggie gave you a small push toward the man and, with a wink, took the bag from you. She scurries off to meet Glenn, Rick, and Abe.

Feeling your heart race against your chest, you decide that now was the time. You make your way over to Daryl, the man you’ve had a crush on since you laid eyes on him. It was unsure why, seeing as you hardly dated before the apocalypse, leaving you a bit confused when it came to dating.

Not that you weren’t good looking or anything of the sort. Honestly, you always felt confident in your looks, especially without making yourself up and dressing in those frilly dresses all the girls used to wear. You were naturally pretty, you just weren’t into the dating scene all too much. Guys were never on top of your list.

“Son of a–!” Daryl pops his head up, sucking on his index finger as he whips around and catches you staring at him. His body tenses up as he slowly lets his finger fall from his lips, his eyes squinting, trying to figure you out as quickly as possible.

“I brought you something.” You force a smile onto your lips. Daryl was your crush, and Daryl liked to flirt back, but you always thought that was Daryl, giving in to your little game. You never thought he was serious about it, never. He would always make fun of the way you were looking at him, giving him the ‘fuck me’ look and licking your lips every time he rearranged his junk in front of you. You were completely and utterly smitten by this man.

“Me?” The words came out in a low growl, the very same growl that made your skin crawl and that smile to spread across your cheeks. “What is it?”

With a swift movement, you hand him the pack of cigarettes you knew he likes, unopened and with a working lighter tied around it. “Found it in the house we raided. Thought you could use it.” You shrug, remembering Daryl telling you a while ago that he was in need of a good smoke.

Daryl nods a thanks, though his lips remain in a thin line and his shoulders still look tense.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, not able to shake off the fact that Daryl was the only one in town that hadn’t smiled at you yet, or hardly given you much of a look at all. “Everyone else is in a good mood.”

A cigarette between his teeth already, Daryl lights it quickly and takes a long drag, fluttering his eyelids closed as he took in his nicotine. He breathes the smoke out, blowing it out of the corner of his mouth so it didn’t catch in your face. “Dunno.”

“What’s going on between us?” You bring your voice down, knowing that anyone could be eavesdropping.

He pocketed the pack and slips the stick between his fingers. “Not sure what you mean.” He grumbles and looks back inside the engine of the truck, clearly avoiding the subject.

A little bit of courage bursts inside you. You cross your arms over your chest. Maggie was right—you needed to talk to Daryl about this. All the mixed signals were getting in the way of something that could potentially be great.

“Just before I left, you acted like you wanted to tell me something and now you’re doing your best to push me away.” You point out the obvious, wishing you hadn’t the moment the words left your lips.

Daryl looks up at you, the cigarette hanging between his teeth as he flicks his eyes up to meet yours. His lips are still in a thin line and his jaw clenches. “That was before I started thinkin’, doll. I ain’t got nuthin’ to say.” And he went back to his tinkering.

“Daryl.” You say sternly, standing your ground and promising yourself not to back down now. “Why can’t we just have a normal conversation?”

“There ain’t nuthin’ worth sayin’.” Daryl flicks the bud onto the ground and stomps it out with the heel of his boot. His hair falls into his face, but he doesn’t push it back. It gives him a little cover from the truth.

Anger shot through you and you ball your left hand into a fist, ready to slam it on the hood of the nearest car. “Before I left, you started to say something. I want to know what that something was.” You demand him. “If it has anything to do with this age gap then—“

“Age gap?” His eyes move back, meeting yours as he straightens his back up and crosses his arms. His muscles flex and relax again, giving you a little shiver down your spine. You loved when Daryl went sleeveless and showed off those curvy arms of his. “Fuckin’ age gap? I don’t care ‘bout no age, Y/N.”

‘Then what is it?” You were no longer quiet, you raise your voice to get a point across. You wouldn’t let him go until he gave you an explanation this time. Daryl was a quiet man, likes to stick to himself, but he wouldn’t be able to just bury his emotions now.

Daryl shifts his weight from one foot to the other and kicks at a pebble on the ground, allowing his arms to fall at his sides. He turns his nose up to the sky just before he opens his mouth and tries to think of a way to answer that will both satisfy you and keep him out of trouble. “I can’t afford to lose you.”

That should have been something sweet shared between two lovers. Coming from a Dixon, it was much more. The sound of him saying those words to you melts your heart, even though you were still upset with him, it made this a little easier.

“You won’t lose me.” You smile, assuring the man.

Daryl looks up, his cheeks turning a deep shade of red at the realization of what he said. “Forget it.” He growls and returns to his job.

Maybe it was the adrenaline, but you found yourself padding over to Daryl and wrapping your arms around his waist from behind. It was something you’ve dreamt of doing for weeks now. To feel his skin against yours, that was much needed. “You won’t lose me.”

He grabs both your wrists and shoves you off him, carefully. You drop your hands to your sides and it feels like your heart was ripped from your chest. Daryl watches you with his eyes narrowed and his chest heaving like a wild dog getting ready for an attack.

“If I let you get close, I’ll end up losing you.”

He wasn’t making any sense to you. You tilt your head to the left and let your own hair fall in your face, not bothering to push it aside. “If you let me closer, we can have a good time.”

“I’m too rough.” He rumbles.

“Rough?” You blink your eyes a couple of times, still very confused. “I can handle that.”

Daryl savagely shakes his head and flings his hair everywhere. “Naw. Naw, you can’t and I’m not allowing myself to take a chance.”

It takes you another minute to understand what Daryl was rambling about. You assumed, at first, he meant he was rough around relationships, hardly knowing how to be in one. Now, you were realizing he wasn’t talking about just the relationship. Daryl was scared of physically hurting you.

“I fuck up too bad.” Daryl goes on, but he didn’t seem to realize you were slowly moving closer to him, taking the final five steps to close the space between the two of you.

“Fuck me up, Daryl.” You purr, pressing your chest to his and leaning up on your tiptoes just a little. “Show me how you’re an animal in bed.”

Daryl gulps and his eyes flick from your eyes to your lips, all the way down to your breasts which are placed against his chest, wanting to pop out of that shirt you were wearing. He’s thinking hard on it, wanting to resists but at the same time, loving the challenge. The spark ignited in his eyes, shining through as he grabbed your waist with enough force to leave a bruise for weeks. You squeak and grab hold on the front of his shirt and wait until he crashes his lips into yours, not caring who saw, not caring that he was a bit sloppy at first.

Daryl Dixon was finally yours, rocking your world, promising you that he would get better with the boyfriend thing eventually. You loved his little fuck ups, though. The way he wasn’t sure how to comfort you other than to hold you and kiss your forehead or the way he awkwardly held your hand whilst walking down the street, unsure if he wanted the whole of Alexandria to know who he was seeing every night, bruising to the high heavens.

You can’t tell me that Cassian hasn’t caught Nesta watching him train and proceeded to pour a bucket of water all over himself. Rendering Nesta to become just as wet when he looses the band from his hair and flings it at her.

She catches and twirls it around her finger before pocketing it.
His jaw is nowhere to be found as she lifts an eyebrow before sauntering off.

“What else does that finger do? What else do those fast hands do?” His mind reels with possibilities.


Nesta uses the same band to tie her hair back when she knows he’s watching her study. Craning and running her hands down her neck before she grabs a goblet of water and pours it down her front. “That’s much better…” she moans loud enough for him to hear. Just as Cassian is about to burst, she removes the band with lightning speed and chucks it toward his not-so-secret hiding place, hitting him in the eye.

“Oh, it is ON!” Cassian thinks to himself as he makes his way to an empty bedroom. Where he spends the next hour, thinking of other ways he and Nesta can tease each other. The house shakes and paintings drop from the walls as a deafening roar is released.

Happy Anniversary Babe (Sebastian Stan x Reader)

Hello darlings! Thank you all for the follows and thank you for continuing to read my stuff. Right now you have no idea how much that means. So thank you for being such sweet little darlings xx I adore you all to pieces

Okay, so you weren’t technically supposed to be in your boyfriend’s dressing room with him but he pulled you in. The Late Late show was having him tonight to talk about one of his movies. You were unbelievably happy to hear he was going to be on a talk show once again. You loved hearing your boyfriend talk about his filming experiences and more. However, he was currently hovering above you on the couch. Pressing kisses along your neck and teasing you softly.

   “Seb..” You whine softly.

   “Shh prinţesă.” He murmurs against your skin. Only causing you to shiver under his touch. Grabbing a handful of his hair, and thank god he still had some length left. A small growl comes from him as he nips at your skin.
   “You are going to get us in trouble Sebastian.” You speak softly.

   “Not if you are quiet my love.” He chuckles and claims your lips. Lowering himself down on you carefully as you wrap your leg around his waist. The kissing was becoming heated when there was a knock on the door. You gasp and push at Sebastian and he kisses you again. Standing up quick, he winks at you and heads for the door. A soft giggle comes from you and you motion at his hair. He flings the door open slightly and sticks his head out.

   “How are you?” The camera guy asks.

   “I’m.. Great.” He admits as he runs a hand through his hair. You bite back your giggles as you lay breathless on the couch. Sebastian was always causing some kind of trouble with you.

   “We are ready for you.” The guy states. Sebastian nods and then comes back into the room quick. Closing the door and striding over to you. Claiming your lips once more.

   “Be good prinţesă.” He murmurs and heads out the door. You bite on your swollen lips and move to watch the tv back here. Sebastian was joking and talking on the tv, when another knock on the door catches your attention.

   “So Sebastian, we hear you are in a relationship. Is that so?”

   “Uh, yeah. Yes I do.” He nods, wondering if they had gone to get you yet.

   “How long now?”

   “Well, it’s been about five years now.” His smile widens. Going on six as of today, but Sebastian didn’t want to mention that just yet.

You on the other hand were being led out to the stage. Clearly unsure of why this was happening. Sebastian never said a word to you about coming out here. However, you were taken by shock when you heard your name and were being helped over to Sebastian. Who ultimately had the brightest smile on his cute little face. It melted your heart and made you smile shy. Once you were seated beside your boyfriend, that’s when the questions came up. Millions. Fans tweeting in, people from the crowd. It was amazing and crazy at the same time. When the commercial came, you were given some water and you tossed a glance at Sebastian. He was talking quietly with the tv host. You were honestly still in shock, your family was going to explode when they found out you were on tv. As the night continues, the questions continue, but before the end of the show, they did a skit with you in it and just when you thought the show was coming to an end.

Sebastian had something else completely in mind. You were distracted by one of the young actors they brought on for the skit when they stepped from view and turned you to face Sebastian. He was down on one knee with a ring in his hand. Blinking a few times, you stood there speechless. He took your hand and began his sweet little speech. Adding a few words in Romanian that made tears fill in your eyes. Trying to blink them back you continue listening to him as he stumbles over a couple of the words. The entire audience was quiet, hanging on every word as Sebastian spoke those last words.

   “So.. what do you say prinţesă, will you marry me?” Sebastian asks gentle. By now the tears had fallen down your cheeks as you found the ability to nod. You are down in his arms, practically taking him to the floor. A laugh coming from him.

   “Yes.. yes I’ll marry you Seb.” You laugh soft. Sniffling slightly you pull him up and he kisses you. The audience screams and claps. This entire proposal caught on tv, in front of the entire world. But you could care less and so could Sebastian. Because right now? He was engaged to the most angelic woman he had ever met.

O Captain, My Captain

So any of you who know me on any level know that I’ve been harboring serious lust affections for Mr. Nathan Fillion for eight years and counting.

Welp. I set myself a goal and today, I made it a reality.


Yes, that is me cheesing with the one and only absolutely gorgeous Nathan Fillion, courtesy of Dragon*Con 2017.

And yes, I dressed to kill because I was intent on seducing the man and I have absolutely zero fucking shame.

It was an incredibly tense morning, and I do mean morning: me and my bestie got up at 5am and got dolled up, then drove to the train station to get to the con. The most stressful part of this fucked up con is that unfortunately, you don’t know what a celebrity’s autograph hours or their prices are until you’re inside the Walk of Fame room, and so you basically have to come crazy early and prepare to wait and be vigilant to get your chance. However, that’s part of why I always do photo ops. That is an assured meeting with my sweetie of choice, where as autograph sessions are first come, first served, and Nathan hasn’t been at Dragon*Con since 2008 and so I knew his fans would make up most of the Friday congoers. 

The photo op was at 11:40am, so I had a delightfully long wait, but thank God, the line moved quickly. That’s a blessing and a curse, which I’ll discuss in a moment.

So what’s Nathan Fillion like?

For one, he’s terribly, terribly polite. He introduced himself to each person who walked over for the photo and shook their hand and asked their name. Then the photo is snapped and he thanked them for coming out and for being patient. Which is hella sweet, honestly.

I had a chuckle with the volunteers in line because of my shameless Lady in Red ploy. The lady outside the room laughed because before I went in, I switched out my sensible flats for three inch heels (I like looking taller in photos, and plus, it makes me look sexier to some extent, imo) and she said, “Watch out! She’s got the heels out now!” And then the guy right by Nathan who helped move the line along asked if I was alone in the photo with Nathan and I said yes and he said, “Selfish, huh? I like it!” since the previous two photo ops were a group and a pair.

Let me tell you something, people.

One, Nathan Fillion has the softest hands I’ve ever felt on a man. I mean, wow. I swooned a little.

Two, holy shit, is he fucking gorgeous in person. 

So after the photo, I scurried upstairs and got in line for the Walk of Fame room and stood another hour in the blistering hot lobby until it opened and me and bestie made a beeline for Nathan’s line. Because I’ve been to Dragon*Con probably 2-3 times, I knew that it’s absolutely essential to be at the front of the line when Walk of Fame opens or you won’t get to meet your celebrity simply because there are just too many fans and they have to cut the room off when they reach their capacity. Since we planned ahead, we were within the first fifty people to see him once he came up from the photo op room. 

And that’s where my story gets a little bittersweet.

First off, his autograph was $100, cash only, and it wasn’t personalized. I frown at that. To give you some perspective, William Shatner and Gillian Anderson were both $80 last year. I don’t blame Nathan. I doubt he has control over his rates, but I do think it’s kind of shitty that his staff he won’t let him personalize the photo considering each fan is coughing up $100. To give you even more perspective, remember when I met Chris Evans January of last year? I paid $400 for his VIP package and it came with a photo op, a lithograph, an autograph, a reserved seat at the Civil War panel, and early access to the dealer’s room. And that’s Chris fucking Evans, a bonafide A-lister and a millionaire. So you understand that I’m feeling some type of way about how they decided to charge $100 with no personalized autograph. I can’t imagine it would take that much more time for him to add your name when he was already signing it.

Plus, because of the massive turnout of fans, each signing is under 20 seconds long. I’m dying inside because of it. If you’ve been following me for a while, you’ll know that I have a fixation with meeting famous people. Why? My life is boring as fuck and hardly anyone likes me, and so it really gets my motor going to meet famous people because I love telling the story of what they’re like. The average person’s not going to meet a celebrity, and so I enjoy it as a hobby because I find it very fulfilling.

So, out of courtesy for the hundreds of fans waiting to meet him, I didn’t really get to say much to him, and it hurts a little because I wanted to tell him a few things, but I didn’t want to appear selfish. 

But hey, that’s why this is bittersweet. The fact that I didn’t get to tell him what he’s meant to me is the bitter part. 

The sweet part is that it took probably about an hour and twenty to thirty minutes between the photo op and the autograph, and Nathan Fillion remembered me.

Him: Oh, we met downstairs! What’s your name again?

See, that? Yeah. I’m okay with that. Because he picked me out of a crowd of a few hundred people and that’s a pretty big fucking feather in my cap. So obviously my Lady in Red ploy worked to some degree.

Lastly, the funniest thing happened while I was in his line. He was leaning down to sign an autograph and then he looked up at the next person and ran his hand through his hair to push it out of his face.

You know those Pantene Pro-V commercials with the sexy half naked lady flinging her hair in slow-mo and it’s utterly tantalizing?

Yeeeeeeah, my mind just went fucking blank when he did that. 

I just need y’all to understand than Nathan Fillion looks great on TV, but the man is seriously a fucking hunk in real life. Goddamn. I started fanning myself, for God’s sake. He is just…beautiful in person. Whew.

Anyway, I was also lucky enough to meet two of my other idols right after Mr. Fillion: Michael Rosenbaum and Steve Blum. And I am delighted to say those interactions weren’t bittersweet–just sweet all the way around.

Michael Rosenbaum was a fucking darling cinnamon bun, just like Wally. He asked me my name and I told him, and then I started gushing about how Justice League was amazing and he just lent so much heart to the role of Wally West and he was basically my entire childhood. So then Rosenbaum turns to the line of fans and yells, “Hey! She says I’m her entire childhood! Like her whole childhood! Man, that makes me feel old!” And I apologized (jokingly, of course) and he starts goofing off with me and my bestie and even another fan in line. He was so adorable and gracious and I love the way he said my name. What a lovely guy.

Meeting Steve Blum (FINALLY) was a hoot as well. So me and bestie went up to him and we told him we were so happy to catch him this year because a couple years ago, we were in his line for an autograph at Momocon and they literally cut the line off ONE person away from the two of us after an hour and a half of waiting. Steve (bless his darling heart) apologized, but we of course told him that wasn’t his fault at all, and I told him that it was so great to finally see him up close because I had asked him a question at his panel and he jokingly told me he loved me and I almost fainted dead away and forgot my question. He laughed and asked me what question I had asked, and then he signed for me. While we were chatting it up, I asked him if he cried on the last episode of Cowboy Bebop and he said yes and went even further to tell me that the studio and the voice director didn’t tell him how the anime ended. He found out as he was voicing it. He was just like us–totally shocked and upset and like me he pretends Spike is totally fine at the end.

And then, in typical Kyo fashion, I accidentally made a fool of myself with my stupid iPhone. Apparently, it ran out of storage and so we were trying to record something and it wouldn’t take and so I’m apologizing profusely and blushing up a storm, but Steve is like, “No, it’s okay!” and he takes my phone and tries to see if it’ll work, but it won’t, so we record it on my bestie’s phone instead. He was so sweet! I felt like such a dumb schmuck when my phone wouldn’t take the video, but he was amazingly nice and I hugged him before I left and it was just the best thing ever. Steve Blum for president, man. What a standup guy.

Tomorrow’s got the legendary Ming Na Wen on the agenda, so you’ll see part two of my recap. Probably with a LOT of screaming, because Ming Na is my queen and I must worship her accordingly. Here’s to Saturday.

Kyo out.

Jesus Christ, That’s a Pretty Face

Summary: Phil is a famous indie-rock singer who never shows his face on stage and Dan is a massive fan who unknowingly meets his favorite artist at the library.
Word Count: 5538
Warnings: none except for cussing
A/N: Hello lovelies! I woke up to the wonderful news that gay marriage has been legalized in all fifty states! I’m seriously gonna cry i swear. Anyways, here’s a little thing I wrote that I’m quite proud of so I hope you guys like it as well! Special thanks to my beta, whalefairyfandom12 who helped me develop the plot and kept telling me that I was doing great. Ilysm (’:
Jesus Christ - Brand New


“THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR COMING OUT TO SEE ME TONIGHT, LONDON!” Phil screamed into the microphone, his ears nearly bursting with the chanting of the crowd before him: thousands of listeners (he refused to call them his fans) cheering for him and the rest of his indie rock band, Runaway Sky. The fact that this many people came to see them always made a warm feeling erupt in his chest.

See, Phil wasn’t the typical famous person that most people looked up to. He saw himself as an average guy who just happened to have a nice voice. He didn’t have beautiful hair like David Beckham or rock hard abs like Chris Evans. He was just Phil, a twenty-two year old with a black fringe who had a liking for skinny jeans and always wore a mask on stage.

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