head decor

flyingchancla  asked:

You know what I love more about Jin and the pink crocs? He has thingies on them, I can't what kind of additions he put there, I remember my eldest had these cars things on his crocs when he was younger. Oh man.

Oh my god friend, I didn’t even NOTICE THIS.  OF COURSE JIN WOULD HAVE EXTRA SPECIAL CUSTOMIZED PINK CROCKS OF FUCKING COURSE HE WOULD I”M GHGHGHHHGHH

HE IS THE CUTEST.  

On February 1st John wakes up to find that Sherlock’s half of the bed is empty, and on his pillow is a single lavender rose.  He smiles softly, picks it up, and presses his nose into the petals.

The following day John finds two of the same flower, their stems cut quite short, waiting for him in his favorite mug when he goes to make tea.  He doesn’t ask Sherlock about it yet, and Sherlock acts as if nothing is different.

On February 3rd there are three lavender roses waiting for John.  One is resting in his left shoe; another is tucked inside his jacket pocket; the third he finds on the doorknob when he’s on his way out.  He puts them on his desk at work and thinks about texting Sherlock for an explanation.  But he doesn’t.  Not yet.

Four roses find their way onto the mantlepiece.

Five are found nestled in John’s chair late in the evening on February 5th.

Six are discovered the following morning, wrapped neatly together with ribbon, in the refrigerator.  Still, neither of them say a word.

It isn’t until the 7th of February–when John finds seven lavender roses, cut from their stems, floating in a bowl of water on the kitchen table–that John’s curiosity gets the better of him.  He’s not much for computers, but he knows how to use google at least.  The results make his head feel light.

Eight roses decorate the sitting room in various spots.

Nine are placed into various beakers and tubes.

Ten litter the surface of the sofa all day on February 10th.  They avoid sitting there all day, but neither of them mentions it.

On February 11th there are eleven roses lining the doorframe of Baker Street.

The 12th brings a bouquet to John’s office where he switches them out for the three that have begun to wilt but that he was unwilling to remove.

Thirteen roses hang from the ceiling of their bedroom the following day.  John isn’t quite sure how Sherlock managed that without waking him, but he lays there for almost half an hour, just watching them sway back and forth.

John comes home from work on the 14th of February and finds lavender rose petals scattered up and down the seventeen steps of 221B.  If he had to guess he would say there were enough petals for fourteen roses.  His chest constricts, and he takes the steps slowly, a small smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

He expects to find Sherlock waiting for him, but when he reaches the top he finds the door to the sitting room closed, a note taped to it.  Sherlock’s untidy scrawl reads, You know where to find me.

And John does.  He’s back down the stairs and out the door in seconds, and for once it seems he’s got Sherlock’s luck on his side as a taxi rolls to a stop when he flings out his hand.

The lab at St. Bart’s hasn’t changed much since the day they met, and it’s a bit like walking into the past when John pushes the door open to find Sherlock waiting for him in the same exact spot he had been when John had first seen him.  Only this time John isn’t limping.  And this time Sherlock is holding a single lavender rose instead of a pipette, and his gaze is soft and warm as it settles on John.

“Knew you’d get it,” he says, his eyes crinkling with his smile.

John walks toward him, taking his time even though his heart is pounding.  It’s ridiculous, he thinks, because they’ve been together for months now.  “I’m smarter than I look,” he says, unable to keep from smiling in return.  He stops about a foot away, nodding toward the rose in Sherlock’s hand.  “Isn’t that cheating?”

Sherlock shakes his head.  “You see, but you do not observe,” he says, a mischievous glint in his eyes.  He steps closer, holding the flower up between them.  “There were only thirteen on the steps.  This is number fourteen.”

John steps closer and reaches out to touch the petals, letting his hand slip down until his fingers ghost over Sherlock’s.  “I looked it up, you know. Lavender rose.”

“I know,” Sherlock says, his smile widening.  “On the seventh.  I was surprised you held out for so long.”

John can’t help laughing.  “I’m not even going to ask how you knew.”  

He plucks the rose from Sherlock’s fingers and sets it gingerly on the counter beside them, removing the delicate barrier between them so that he can step into Sherlock’s space and draw him down for a soft, slow kiss.  Sherlock’s hands cup his face, his thumbs stroking along the sharp edges of his jaw, and John clings to fistfuls of Sherlock’s shirt at his waist.

When he pulls away it’s only enough so that he can speak, and his lips brush Sherlock’s with every word.  “Love at first sight,” he whispers, and he frees one hand to touch the petals of the lavender rose beside them.  “And you always said I was the romantic.”

Sherlock kisses him again, lingering for a long, sweet moment.  “I thought you should know the truth.  The whole of it.  How long I’ve loved you.”

Something in John’s chest aches, and he spends long, drawn-out moments pressing his lips to Sherlock’s, murmuring his I love yous into his mouth, hoping that it will be enough, that Sherlock will understand that he’s been loved since the moment John saw him in this very lab so many years ago.


Later that night–after Sherlock has led them home, after John has pressed him against the sheets, after countless kisses and touches and soft, pleading words–later, they sit together in front of the fire, half-clothed, legs tangled together, and press the single lavender rose in between the pages of a heavy book.  And when they’ve finished, John takes Sherlock by the hand and leads him back to bed.

Beltane Activities and Ideas
  • Walk the perimeter of your property to check that everything is in good order. Bring trash bags and do a general clean up of anything that is not where it should be.
  • Make a miniature maypole for your altar if you can not make a full size version
  • Get a new mirror, or use one you have already, and decorate it with ribbons and flowers for your bedroom
  • Fill a cauldron or a large bowl with fresh flowers (wildflowers are best)
  • Braid bracelets out of white ribbons and give them as gifts to friends or family
  • Make a dish of fruits, berries, nuts and leave in the wood for the animals and fae folk to enjoy
  • Cut branches of fresh green from budding trees, or make garlands of flowers to decorate the home for this celebration. Hang them on the doors and windows early, so the may sunrise finds them there!
  • Create a special wreath for the top of the May Pole
  • Make “May Day” baskets of flowers and leave on friends and family’s doorsteps as a surprise gift. Maybe they’ll think a faerie did it!
  • Create hair pieces and garlands for decorating your head or around your neck from flowers that are in bloom
  • Tie ribbons to trees to celebrate the coming of spring. Make a wish each time you tie a ribbon as it’s good luck to wish for things on this day!
  • Bathe your face in the morning dew to retain youth. The fair maid who, the first of May Goes to the fields at break of day And washes in dew from the hawthorn tree Will ever after handsome be. Other sources suggest using the dew found under oaks or on ivy leaves. Make a special wish as you wash your face in it or as you drink from a well before sunrise.
  • Dance the May Pole
  • During the Maypole dance, think about what you wish to weave into, or out of, your spirit. The Maypole is an ancient symbol of the male aspect of the Divine, while the ribbons are strands of life. Have small baskets of goodies around the room to symbolize the coming abundance and to enjoy after the Circle. Magic is hungry work. (from Trish Telesco’s Victorian Grimoire)
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I just added these rad pieces to my shop!
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www.etsy.com/shop/thetayloredstitchco

dailymail.co.uk
Lottie Tomlinson makes a rare appearance at London Fashion Week
Lottie Tomlinson - little sister to One Direction star Louis - was sure to make a splash at London Fashion Week over the weekend.

She’s kept a relatively low profile since she lost her mother at Christmas.

But Lottie Tomlinson - little sister to One Direction star Louis - was sure to make a splash at London Fashion Week over the weekend.

On Saturday she appeared at Nickelodeon’s SpongeBob Gold 18th Anniversary in collaboration with the LFW Design collective.

The pop star sibling wore a baggy cornflower blue sweater over a short silver skirt, white sports socks and black running shoes.

She piled her grey-tinted locks in one slanted bun on top of her head and decorated her eyes with a dark coat of eye-liner.

After posing with a life-sized SpongeBob, she was joined by 1D’s stylist, Lou Teasdale, who wore her similarly-shaded hair loose.

Her outfit considered of a distressed denim, with deliberate tears in it here and then, a black top, bronze pendant necklace and bright orange trousers - all finished off with white tennis shoes.

Beauty blogger Lottie had spent Friday at the slightly more glam Charlotte Simone presentation at The Vinyl Factory with Gemma Styles - the sister of Louis’ bandmate Harry.

The pair seemed to have compared notes as they each sported colourful fur scarves.

Lottie kept things silvery in a slinky light grey sweater, one shoulder showing, and shiny metallic vinyl cropped trousers.

She kept her footwear very casual with black trainers and she wore her silver/blonde tresses bunched up in two pigtails.

She decorated the look with various gold accessories, including bangle earrings and a name necklace.

Her famous brother’s bandmater’s sister kept it all black other than the blue, white and black fur scarf she wore, which co-ordinated with Lottie’s white, pink, teal and indigo wrap.

Lottie was last seen when she and her brother were spotted rallying around one another in the lead up to Christmas.

Despite having to face their first festive season without their beloved mother since her passing, Louis  also had to go through his first birthday without her too.

Born on Christmas Eve 1991, Louis turned 25 the day before Christmas and his little sister was sure to make sure she used the occasion to honour her brother in light of their recent family tragedy.

In an Instagram snap uploaded by 18-year-old Lottie, the siblings are seen huddled together and smiling, seemingly on a night out.

She captioned the photo: ‘My brother and best friend forever … Happy birthday!’

Georgia May Foote was in attendance, keeping things all black and extremely sleek-looking, sporting long flowing trousers tired at the front, with a cropped, low-cut top.

Her straight dark locks fell around her shoulders, which were covered in a black leather jacket. She also wore a black choker around her neck.

She wore a styling black hat, dark pumps and splashed crimson lipstick on her pout.

Mariah Idriss - who is the first model to wear a hijab in an H&M campaign - was in attendance.

The 23-year-old, who is of Pakistani and Moroccan heritage, posed in an eye-catching leisurewear ensemble in black, grey and orange check.

She completed the look with colourful dangling earrings, a turban and bkack boots, as well as some rustic bangles on her wrist and a leather bag over her shoulder.

anonymous asked:

You know that "who you should fight" meme? Could you do a BSD version of it, if it's not too much to ask?

(Ngl this may be the best thing I’ve ever answered)

WHO YOU SHOULD FIGHT

ADA

Atsushi: You win(?)

  • Walk right up to him and beat the ever-loving shit of him. He’ll apologize to you. An easy fight, just don’t slip in any tasteless orphan jokes, it’ll have the opposite effect intended and he’ll take you the fuck out with the pure intent to prove he’s worthy. You could beat him but the psychological weight of crushing someone so innocent will ensure that you never feel right again. Fight him if you have no soul.

Dazai: You lose

  • He’ll turn the whole affair into a big joke. If you, by some stroke of luck, actually hit him, he’ll probably just say ‘harder daddy’. The psychological effects of brawling Dazai will be devastating either way. DO. NOT.  FIGHT.

Ranpo: You win

  • Honestly, it’s hardly worth your time. He hasn’t eaten anything but chocolate cake and cheap lollipops for the last six years, not to mention any form of physical exercise. He’s got pale-ass noodle arms and a muffin top (don’t believe the official art’s lies. The bitch eats solely from a candy shop and looks like he just topped off a cycling session with Jillian Micheals? Get the fuck out). Just don’t bring a Jolly Rancher shiv because he’ll eat the damn thing. Undoubtedly fight, just be prepared to book it like a fucking librarian after you knock him out because the rest of the ADA will come after you.

Kyouka: Depends 

  • Look, fourteen’s a shitty age even when you’re not dealing with pressing morality crises.There is nothing Kyouka wants more in this world than to dial herself, let Demon Snow rip and raise her kill count to thirty seven. But all you gotta do to keep her at bay is debate on morality like Matthew fucking Murdock in Netflix’s Daredevil. If you can successfully hold her back with discussion on ethics (and how hers will be jack-shit if she slaughters you) you have a slim chance of victory. A great fight if you need to practice for speech class.

Kunikida: You lose

  • You might think victory’s as simple as tossing his notebook in a nearby water fountain and watching him flip a lid, but this is an absolutely awful tactic and the inside of your head will be decorating the sidewalk in mere milliseconds. He beats Dazai’s band-aid wrapped flanks on the daily and he won’t hesitate to destroy yours. If you fight, at least your cause of death can be listed as ‘blonde beefcake’s rippling biceps’.

Kenji: You win

  • Just feed him a few bowls of Spaghetti-o’s before you deck him and the little blonde bitch won’t stand a chance. You can smack him back into the cultist backwater rice paddies he crawled out of easy as smacking a crippled fly. A perfect fight for abusing a fourteen year old without getting into too much trouble. 

Fukuzawa: You lose

  • You might think you could dress up in a kitty costume and sneak up to him. And you could. It would be easy, in fact. He’s so focused on the cuteness he won’t notice any maliscious intent. Despite this his reflexes are simply too quick and he’ll still take you the fuck out when you make your move. A bad fight from all angles. You’ll have to fend off his adopted, dysfunctional ADA children too. Just don’t.

PORT MAFIA

Akutagawa: Depends (99.5% losing chance. risky.)

  • Yeah, you’re fucked. Akutagawa won’t even wait until you initiate, he’ll be the one attacking you, probably over something minor and stupid like the color of your pants is personally offensive. Rashomon will be slicing and dicing you into a smoothie for cannibals before you know what hit you. The only way you make it out alive is if by some stroke of luck Dazai happens to be in a one hundred mile radius and Akutagawa’s senpai-radar starts going off. Fight only if you bring My Chemical Romance vinyls to punt at him; they’re his biggest weakness .

Chuuya: Depends (99.75% losing chance. Cross thy fingers and pray)

  • Facing Chuuya is a bigger risk than that board game. He’s practically impervious to all close-up melee and he’s too small of a target to be hit with anything from afar. You might think you’d have a fighting chance if you knocked his hat off; after all, that’s basically all he is. A hat rack prone to alcoholism. But that fury will only make him stronger and he’ll crush you like you’re a cum-covered Dazai body pillow. As with Akutagawa your only glimmer of hope for survival is if bandage-kun happens to be close by because Chuuya will prioritize and leave your now crippled ass in the dust that he punted you in. Only fight while intoxicated. (Both of you. Not just him. It’s more fun that way. Much like Turkish oil wrestling but with more gravity.)

Mori: You lose

  • If you want to fight him you’ve obviously got a death wish and I’m not going to stop you. There’s easier ways to go though, man. Easier ways. His expression won’t even change when he whips out that scalpel (I don’t believe that man’s ever been to medical school) and filets you like a fresh caught tuna, on its way to a B-rated fast food join. Your body’s gonna get left on the pavement for the stray dogs. (No, I’m not gonna finish that joke. Low hanging fruit. I have some dignity.) If you want to die that bad, just go see if Dazai will suicide with you. It’ll be significantly less painful

Elise: I fucking dare you

  • I mean, you probably could take her out, she’s like seven. Mori will let her play skip rope with your small intestine after she’s recovered. Rest In Peace if you even consider it.

Kouyou: You lose

  • I don’t know what would inspire you to be so stupid. She’ll just let out a dignified little chuckle and shove that umbrella sword so far up your ass you’ll be tasting acid rain for months, and she’ll do it all in the most ladylike way possible. Unless you’re ready for your innards to end up in a teapot, served with chocolate-coated orange wafers at tea break, just don’t fight.

Oda: ???

  • He’s fucking dead. What are you gonna do, kick his headstone, maybe plant some weeds over his grave? Just don’t mention the burnt orphan soup, or he’ll literally rise and put you in his coffin instead. If you’re willing to dabble into necromancy, knock yourself (or him, in this case) out.

Q: Haha

  • I get why you’d want to fight him, I really do. He looks like a miniature Cruella Deville on an acid trip. But you just don’t have a chance. Hit him. Go ahead. As soon as you so much as brush him he has the power to destroy your shit like it’s never been destroyed before. Will annihilate you from the inside out. The deadliest emo thirteen year old there’s ever been; avoid at all costs!!!

Higuchi: You LOSE

  • You might think you have a chance because she doesn’t have an ability. But you’re gravely mistaken. Higuchi is bitter. Higchi is ruthless. Higuchi does not give a fuck about anything other than getting Emotagawa-senpai to notice her. She has nothing, nothing to lose and she will not rest until she’s pulling your tonsils through your asshole in the hopes that Akutagawa will give her a thumbs-up for slaughtering you. DO NOT fight. She stands to lose nothing and gain everything.

THE GUILD

Hawthorne: You lose

  • You might think that you’d have a fighting chance because he’s a priest and priest’s aren’t supposed to wreck people’s shit but he will see your sins and you won’t even see him coming. Try to punch him his ability is literally activated by injuries. Knocks you out with a psalter hymnal and ships you off to Bible camp while you’re unconscious.  Only fight if you have never sinned, not once, ever.

Steinbeck: Depends

  • If you’re from the city he’ll destroy you. Farm boys always tear apart city people no questions asked. If that fact doesn’t dissuade you then just prepare yourself not to be freaked the fuck out when he jack-knifes his own neck and starts sprouting flora. As long as you keep your cool you’ve got a 30/70 chance. Only fight if you bring a metric fucktonne of weed killer.

Poe: You win (biggest douchecanoe award, but that’s about it)

  • Physically, sure, you could sneeze within fifty feet of his pasty ass and take him down. But really? Do you really want to hurt him? He’ll stare right into your soul with those sad, sad eyes and wonder just what he did to inspire such bitterness in you. If you can still fuck him up after that then you’d best kiss your spirit goodbye because it’s descending to the seventh level of fiery hell as you read this. Plus, honestly, there’s no true triumph against a man whose best bud is a raccoon. That’s just too rad. If you can deal with the pressing moral consequences and a pissed off  raccoon, go for it. (You monster)

Mitchell: You win

  • All you have to do is push her hospital bed down the stairs and pretend it was an accident. Her comatose ass can’t do a thing to stop you. Fight if you’re ready to run from angry hospital staff.

Fitzgerald: You lose 

  • You know, this sentient sack of Benjamins deserves it, in all honesty, but don’t try. Him and his power suit will kick you into the next millennia before you can say ‘old sport’. Prepare to be crushed by capitalism.

Melville: You win

  • He’s like eighty and his ability’s a goddamn floating whale. As long as you don’t throw down at Sea World, you’re good. Fight as long as you’re not in front of an assisted living facility; the CNAs will think he’s a resident and defend him.

Lovecraft: Depends

  • Attack him while he’s trying to nap and he’ll be too lazy to get up. Otherwise… yeah, just google ‘Cthulhu’. You’ll get the idea. Don’t fight: there’s no beating weaponized tentacle porn.

Montgomery: You lose

  • Go right ahead and try, she’ll whisk you away to her Melanie-Martinez ass torture dimension and let Anne mop the floor with your teeth. It’s kind of like challenging God. Unless you want to spend eternity in an unsexy rip-off of the 50 shades Red Room, DO. NOT. ENGAGE.

Twain: You win

  • Twain’s all talk, anybody that walks around with their titties hanging out 24/7 is definitely trying to distract from something. In this case he’s trying to fool people into thinking he’s not a dictionary-definition pussy. Rip the heads off his muppet babies and he doesn’t even have an ability anymore, the schmuck. Fight when you’re looking for a quick self-esteem boost. 

Alcott: You win

  • This poor woman does not deserve to be tortured anymore than she already is by the weight of her own social awkwardness, but if you really insist: make a derogatory comment and she’s basically down for the count already, no physical contact necessary. If you really want to dominate, just steal her glasses and she instantly morphs into a significantly less foxy Velma Dinkley. Also significantly less prone to self defense. An A-1 fight for when you’re looking to cement residency in Hell.

OTHER

Ango: Depends

  • You would think his beanpole ass would be an easy target. You’d be wrong, though. So very wrong. He’s been chugging tomato juice like it’s his job for the past forever and he’s got a snazzy pair of handcuffs he’s just dying to break out. If you sabotage basic safety features on his car, though, he’s a goner. Just sneakily unbuckle his seat belt while he’s driving and you’ve basically defeated him right then and there. A good fight for practicing strategic tactics and subtle vehicle vandalism.

Fyodor: You lose

  • Just ask A how that one turned out. Actually, ask anyone in the manga what throwing down with Fyodor entails. (Unless you only watch the anime, then just wait for the season three that we’re probably not getting) He’ll escort you personally to the gates of hell with a flick to your forehead. Then he’ll step right over your still-warm corpse and start playing the cello with that unnecessarily wide leg-spreadage. Mess with this sentient ushanka hat and he’ll uSHANKa you.
Blandish Her (M)

jongin, 15.5k, kai of the kim brothers is about to fall in love for the very first time but rejection hits him first

warning: slight smut, mentions of violence and gang related activity, etc

“Maybe I’m not. Maybe every time I’m with you my heart beats really quickly and I can’t help but smile. Maybe when you leave me I’m back to the same old Kai who doesn’t know how to commit. Maybe I don’t know what love is, but you’re most definitely the person that’s come closest to being someone I love.”

Originally posted by katherine8595

Keep reading

Shameless - CALUM SMUT

there has been a ton of requests for this sort of thing and i got inspired. basically this is pure nsfw smut plz read with caution.

masterlist

“This is a bad idea.” Calum swallowed thickly as he adjusted his tight jeans.

“You are not backing out now.” You grinned, holding the small remote in your hand and adjusting the settings fast in an attempt to sway him.

Calum lurched forward, his mouth wide as he moaned freely; completely at your disposal as you toyed with the settings of the remote control vibrating anal beads currently in him. You squealed as he lunged for the other remote on the dresser - the one that controlled your own vibrating underwear - quickly getting his revenge and swivelling the dial to the highest setting.

“Godammit.” Calum choked out, almost on his knees with how good the vibrations felt pulsing through his prostate.

“Calum I’m in my dress turn it off!” You squeaked, desperate not to cum in the original Yves Saint Laurent before you’ve even stepped out the house.

You were both meant to be preparing for the AMAs, walking the red carpet in just under two hours. But the scandalous idea had hit you when playing with your own full size vibrator one night, astounded by the purrs from your boyfriend as you experimentally ran the toy up and down his cock. The revelation spiralled and ended up with both of you daring the other to wear remote controlled vibration devices at the next public appearance you both attended.

And that had landed you in this situation today. You didn’t let your gaze stray from the panting boy as he plucked the small remote from your hands and turned his anal toy off, then turning yours off.

“Jesus, we’re never going to last the whole night.” You panted, propping yourself up by your elbows on your kingsize bed.

“Speak for yourself.” Calum said confidently, giggling at you.

You rolled your eyes and stood up on weak legs, lightly hitting his arm. You moved to the full length mirror in the corner of your shared room, smoothing out your dress and checking your makeup in the glass.

“We need to get going.” You spoke as you received a text from your Uber driver.

He would take you to the rest of the boys and their respective dates, and then you would all arrive at the red carpet together.

“Don’t forget this.” Calum handed you his remote, winking deviously before switching your vibrations on for a split second and cackling as he left the room, closely followed by you.

The car ride was uneventful, neither of you working the other up too much in front of your friends. They’d all caught you in compromising positions anyway, it was far more fun to build the sexual tension and watch Calum twitch as you ran your fingers along the remote in the pocket of your dress.

“Ready?” Calum laid his large hand on your thigh as you neared the venue, the car buzzing with excitement.

“As I’ll ever be.”

Shivers ran down your spine as the door of the car slid open, your vision faced with an onslaught of flashing lights and ears deafened by high-pitched screams from the crowd.

Neither of you dared to make the first move as paparazzi clamoured around you. One picture is worth a thousand words and both of you had boundaries. Your jealous nature meant you didn’t want Calum’s orgasm immortalised and shared around countless magazines and websites, and you were sure the feeling was mutual. However as the less intense interviews started, so did the fun.

You had been singled out by MTV, asking you who you were wearing and which acts you were excited to see later on that night. The interview was going well until you flinched at the all too familiar feeling of vibrations from your underwear. You glanced over at Calum, who was beaming at you, his hand in his pocket as he discreetly fiddled with the speed, switching from lowly vibrating to the bullets’ fastest setting. You felt your cheeks get hot as you tried to control your breathing and stay upright in your heels as your legs quaked.

You were overcome with relief as the interview finally came to a close and you could return Calum’s little favour. You caught his eye from across the bustling carpet and shook your head, a sly smirk decorating your face as you slowly turned on his toy. You watched hungrily as Calum’s entire body tightened, only making the sensations stronger for him. He narrowed his eyes at you before having to answer a question the bright-eyed female reporter addressed to him. Even from a few meters away you could tell he was struggling to keep his voice from cracking. But before your head got too big Calum flicked his own remote again, bowing his head and chuckling as you almost had to lean against a barricade to keep yourself standing. You had nearly given up trying to hide your inevitable orgasm; you were fighting to keep your eyes open and your mouth closed as the harsh vibrations wracked your body. You turned Calum’s toy off in surrender but he didn’t return the gesture. Your breath was hitching and before you could moan the incessant trembling in your soaked underwear ceased. You let out a whimper which was easily drowned by the non-stop shouting from fans and would have collapsed if not for Calum’s impeccable timing. His arm wrapped securely around your waist, giving your weak legs a break and allowing your body to stay standing. He kissed your cheek as you were heckled for more photos, but guided you both indoors, courteously waving at the electric crowd.

“God…” You laughed as you tried to collect your fuzzy thoughts.

Calum had led you both to a quiet corner and you propped yourself up against a wall, your breathing pattern slowly returning to normal.

“You okay?” Calum asked, the look on his face telling you he was wrecked from the teasing too.

You giggled again and held your head in your hands, “We need to get seated.” You exhaled loudly and took a ginger step forward, testing the strength of your legs.

You walked in front of Calum and jumped as he slapped your ass, whispering, “I’m going to make you cum so fucking hard during those performances.” As he took your arm, ignoring your jaw going slack at the thought.

Once you had found the other boys and their dates, you had almost forgotten about the secret you both were keeping. As the musical performances started you both couldn’t help but cheer along with the roaring crowd and get completely distracted by the acts. However, as the awards started getting announced, you both got fidgety. Teasing each other for so long without a release just had you itching to get the other alone. But you were restricted to your seats as the award 5SOS were nominated for was finally announced. You gave Calum’s hand a squeeze and held your breath as the presenters waited for the end of a tension-filled drum roll that felt like it would lasted forever.

“And the winner is… 5 Seconds Of Summer!”

Calum leapt up, quickly joined by his overjoyed bandmates and you. Calum was greeted by high-fives and handshakes from the surrounding crowd and a gigantic hug you engulfed him in. As the supportive cheering died down it was time for the boys to collect their award on stage but Calum quickly hugged you tight again. You tried to draw away after a few seconds but he held you firm, you stiffened as he whispered in your ear.

“Don’t you dare play games with me whilst I’m up there.”

You didn’t reply, too stunned from their win and his threatening tone to think of a sassy comeback. Calum kissed your cheek gently and left your side to join his friends and the presenters on stage.

You sat back in your seat, tossing the small remote in your pocket and pondering whether or not you should comply to Calum’s demand. As the microphone was handed to Calum you mentally exclaimed ‘Fuck it.’ and twisted the dial which switched on Calum’s toy.

You bit back a laugh as Calum’s words became choked and short and his heavy breathing was audible through the mic. He was chewing the inside of his cheek and his hands were shaking, and on the big screen you were sure you could see a layer of sweat beginning to form on his flushed face. To the audience it would seem as if he was just nervous or excited but if he stayed up there longer than a few minutes you both knew it would suddenly become a very different televised event. You watched eagerly as Calum handed the microphone over to Ashton and reached his hand into his jean pocket, deftly returning the vibrations in full force. You bit back a squeal and squirmed in your seat, the highest setting making you giggle uncontrollably as you knew Calum was definitely angry at you for potentially embarrassing him. The people next to you gave you smiles, innocently thinking you were just overjoyed for your boyfriend and his band, little did they know. Your stomach was in knots and your toes were curling against the soles of your shoes, you were sure you were about to explode from all the edging that Calum had put you through tonight. In the meantime Calum was sweating next to his peers, praying that his boner was concealed by his long shirt and that the boys would get ushered off the brightly lit stage soon. He slapped a hand on Luke’s shoulder, to others it would seem congratulatory, but truthfully it was because he wasn’t sure how much longer his legs would hold up against the assault of the vibrating toy.

As soon as the presenter ushered them offstage Calum was rushing back to your side, glaring at you and gritting his teeth to hold off from cumming in his jeans. He grabbed your hand and took the remote from you, switching his toy off. You couldn’t put up a fight even if you wanted to, at this point you were trying - and failing - to steady your breathing and your hands were brutally digging into the arm of your chair. You were close and Calum knew it. He took out the remote control for your underwear and held it on his thigh where you but no-one else could see it. He watched you closely, examining your breath and the scrunching of your eyes.

He was waiting.

Tension was pooling in your belly and you could hardly stop yourself from thrashing around and causing a scene. Just as you were about to moan out in pleasure Calum flicked the remote off, instead causing a disappointed whine to leave your mouth, which earnt a few strange looks. You almost had a strop in the huge venue but hastily decided against begging for Calum to let you cum in front of a few thousand people.

You silently seethed as Calum had all the power now. You were now forced to wait until you reached the comfort of your own home before finally getting the release that currently had you completely wet and quaking.

You bounced your legs nervously in the taxi. You were riled up and internally screaming for Calum’s touch to push you over the edge, but he had deliberately ignored you for the rest of the night, letting you take his arm but refusing to acknowledge your tugs on his sleeve in an attempt to get him home.

He finally complied to your silent request just after midnight, bidding farewell to his fellow musicians and gripping your hand a little too tight as you walked out of the grand doors of the venue and into your arranged car.

By the time you arrived home and got inside you were practically sweating from anticipation, but Calum simply swanned over the threshold, hardly paying any attention you. Just because he had been treating you this way the entire night, didn’t mean you had gotten used to it and you were far from happy with being looked over. You pouted dramatically and huffed as you sat down on the sofa, waiting for Calum to check on you but he didn’t. You heard footsteps echo into your bedroom and crossed your legs and arms, pursing your lips even more and furrowing your eyebrows.  You sighed loudly and eventually resorted to following Calum, trailing into the room stroppily before stopping dead in the doorframe.

Calum was lying on your bed completely naked and jerking himself off leisurely, his remote control toy discarded next to him. He lazily turned his head towards you as you walked in, giving you a nod in acknowledgement and biting back a smirk at your reaction to his position.

“What are you doing?” You gulped.

Calum’s hips bucked as he sped up, unwilling to admit he liked you just watching him hungrily. You could only stare in awe as he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth. He glanced over at you, still stuck in the doorway, and chuckled lowly.

“Don’t look so lost princess.” He grinned as he fucked his fist.

You doubled over, the vibrating in your underwear suddenly violent as Calum took control of the remote again, rendering you weak for the fourth time that night. He waved the remote tauntingly, luring you over to the side of the bed. Your legs ached and you surrendered, collapsing on the bed next to Calum, who was in turn wrecking himself.

“Turn it off!” Your legs spasmed as you swatted at Calum, who kept the remote way out of reach, stroking himself more deliberately as his eyes swept your quivering body.

“Calum!” You practically yelled your boyfriend’s name, your hands grabbing fistfulls of the sheets.

Calum complied to your request at the last second you could hold on for, reading your body like a damn book. You relaxed on the bed, somewhat disappointed but glad he relented for just a second. Before he could start his torture on you again you hastily stood up and wriggled out of your dress, throwing it over a chair and making a mental note to hang it up later.

You looked Calum dead in the eyes as you unclipped your bra, sliding it off your shoulders and throwing it down at your feet. You gaze locked as you bent slightly to slip off the underwear. Calum swallowed the lump in his throat, the hand on his cock frozen. He didn’t have control over you anymore.

You moved slowly towards the bed, basking in the attention Calum was now giving you. You knelt on the edge of the mattress, eyeing up the boy suspiciously as he had a mischievous smirk on his face. As you predicted, he launched himself towards you once you were close, flinging his body on yours and pinning you against the soft sheets.

“Wanna race?” His eyes were glinting evilly and with those two words you knew that you won’t be able to walk tomorrow.

“That’s not fair, you’ve been teasing all night!” You protested.

Your ‘races’ with each other rarely occurred, due to how wrecked it left the both of you. The aim of the game was to cum last, doing all you could to make the other cum first. Calum never let you top when you raced because the position allowed you to have more control and he liked winning.

“Loser buys dinner?”

“It’s like 2am, Cal.”

“I’m hungry.”

“Eat me.”

Calum dropped his head into the crook of your neck and scoffed at your remark, his lips finding your collarbone nipping at it gently.

“After you cum around my cock.”

His sudden dirty talk startled you but sent a flood of warm tingles through your body. Game on. You wrapped your legs around his hips, pulling him in tighter to you and moaning yourself when his hard on brushed against your wetness. Grabbing the back of his neck forcefully, you pressed your lips to his and quickly realised how inevitable it was that you were going to lose. Calum’s lips worked magic and you were soaking under him just from a few seconds of making out, that boy had you utterly wrapped around his finger. You were kissing him as if he was oxygen, passionate and deep, your tongue flitting over the plump lips they knew all too well.

“Need you…” You whined, gasping for breath as Calum sucked a bright hickey on your neck, knowing he’d have to pay for it later.

“What was that?” His voice mocked your desperation, he knew exactly what you wanted.

“Calum! Please, I need you.” Your ragged breath was making it hard to talk but you spat the words out.

He said nothing else, just let you watch him in anticipation. He reached his hand between your two bodies and grabbed his length, pumping a few times before teasing you with his tip.

“For fucks sake!” You squirmed, about to burst from the need to feel him inside you.

“Patience babygirl.”

His words drove you crazy but you needed to at least try to win the race. Your jaw went slack as Calum finally indulged you, pushing in gently and pacing himself slowly to get you warmed up to his size. After all this time his size still stretched you and you couldn’t stop yourself hissing at the burning you were so addicted to.

Somehow you found each other’s lips again, soft gasps escaping your mouths as Calum thrusted gently. You both knew this wasn’t the aim of the game but you couldn’t help basking in the effortless love you both showed for each other… Even if it occasionally involved embarrassing each other in front of huge crowds. Uncharacteristically he groaned, his hips stuttering and biting his lip hard.

“Close, Cal?” You teased, grinding your hips down on his length and watched cunningly as his eyes fluttered and rolled. It was a competition after all.

“Shut up.” He growled, surprised himself at how the toy had worked him up so much.

He connected your lips again, kissing you swollen. His thrusts became animalistic, pushing deep trying to hit your sweet spot and keep his winning streak. It was working, but his panting told you he was a split second closer to cumming than you were. He rested a hand above you on the headboard and he drove into you harder, both of you moaning with abandon as you tightened around him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You whined, thrashing your arms and dragging your fingernails down Calum’s taught back, rendering him weak.

“God… fuck!” Calum faltered, exploding inside you and doing his best to not completely crush you under his weight as his arms struggled to hold him up.

The feeling of him inside you was the last straw and tipped you over the edge, sending you spiralling out of control as your hands curled into fists and you came hard around him, “Calum” being the only coherent word your lips could form.

You lay weak, Calum’s torso pressed tightly to yours and arms wrapped around each other before Calum carefully pulled out of you, rolling on his side but still remaining close to you. Both of you lay in silence, bathing in the afterglow and catching your breath.

“I won.” You muttered, giggling as Calum sighed loudly.

You turned your head to look at him and raised your eyebrows, unable to erase the cocky smile from your face. He wiped the thin layer of sweat from his forehead and leaned in to peck your lips before standing up, placing a hand on the wall to steady himself as his head spun from his orgasm for a moment.

“Your regular, yeah?” He confirmed, moving to retrieve his phone and sticking to his end of the deal.

“Yup!” You smiled contently as you watched his ass wiggle out the door, “You should probably get dressed babe!” You called as he disappeared down the corridor, murmuring to himself about how he’d rather eat you for dinner.

The Adventure Continues // Na Jaemin

Pt 1

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summary: prince!jaemin part two where jaemin and you meet again, only this time he is engaged to be married.

words: 6063

category: angst + fluff, prince au

author note: it was nice to return to this au (also it somehow turned into my second longest scenario ever so maybe i got a bit carried away but how can you not it’s jaEMIN). as usual i miss jaemin and wish he would just show himself to us bc i miss my bestest pal. i hope he’s safe and healthy and being loved by his family.

- destinee

Originally posted by jaehyunsleatherpants

honestly if sm doesn’t update us on this pure snickerdoodle i will swim over to south korea mYSELF WATCH ME

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