his hair i want to touch it

anonymous asked:

yo, I literally had a dream last night that I had to handle drunk dan and he was just really chatty and energetic and I just wanted to go to bed. AND because I wear my red hair plaited, he couldn't stop touching the braids and said it looked like a roman crown idk

i can’t believe drunk dan smith somehow managed to astral project himself into one of ur dreams. that’s amazing. if he visits u again tell him i wanna kick his ass

what's a fire and how does it - what's the word? - burn

so i have this disney playlist i listen to usually when i’m driving and i was blasting poor unfortunate souls this morning and i was thinking

what if ariel didn’t sign the scroll?

because she’s about to, okay, and she looks at the paper. the parchment made of seaweed, the ones that’s specially treated to survive underwater. and she thinks of her cave of treasures, her books that remain perfectly preserved underwater. “no thank you,” she says slowly, becoming keenly aware of air of this place, of the not-people she’d seen who hadn’t been able to pay the price for sea witch’s bargain. “i – no. thank you. but no.”

ursula tries to convince her otherwise, but ariel runs. she goes back to her cave, destroyed as it was by her father’s anger, and thinks.

she’s the daughter of triton. her books never got wet, though she lives in the ocean. she feels a pull inside her, to the land, to somewhere else, but what if – what if –

what if she doesn’t need the sea witch or her father to perform magic for her? what if she has her own?

ursula had wanted her voice because that’s how she performed her magic. singing in this cave had given it powers and protection, and when she saved her prince from the sea – she sang then too, to keep him safe, to guide him back to life and away from death.

so she has magic. she only needs to figure out how to use it.

so that’s what ariel does now. she’s quiet and keeps to herself, and her father and sisters think that it’s because she’s upset with her father, that she’s busy licking her wounds. she’s moved on from that. she has no trident, and is uninterested with fueling her magic with the souls of the damned like ursula has. so she needs to figure something else out.

she does what she’s not supposed to do, and goes where she’s not supposed to go, slipping past the guards and patrols to the one place in the sea that is forbidden to all of them.

the crevice in the earth where what remains of her grandmother lives.

ariel goes to amphitrite, and the sea goddess is so much bigger than ariel, the size of great whale as she curls at the bottom of the sea floor, too old and too tired to do anything more than sleep. “granddaughter,” the great being croaks, opening an eye as blue and as unfathomable as the sea, “you look like me.”

“they say i look like my mother,” she says, and to herself adds: that’s why father can barely stand to look at me.

“you have more of me in you than your mother,” she says, and she shifts and pulls her mass of red hair over her shoulder. “more of me in you than your father does, even.”

“i have magic,” she says, pulling her bravery to the fore as she swims closer to her grandmother, “i want you to teach me how to use it.” amphitrite pushes herself up, and it’s the first time she’s moved in a millennia, and ariel notices for the first time that her grandmother isn’t a mermaid – she has legs.

she has legs.

“you have power,” amphitrite corrects fiercely, “and i will teach you to wield it.”

and so she does. ariel spends her nights by her grandmother, learning to harness the power of the sea that runs in her veins, and sleeps her days away while her sisters and flounder and sebastian grow more and more concerned, but she refuses to tell them why. she refuses to be stopped.

but her heart still aches. she fell in love with her prince, and she wants him still. so she swims to the edge, goes to the beach where his castle resides in the dead of night when her lessons with her grandmother are complete, and sings

. she’s careful not to let any magic leak through, only her voice. she does not want to enchant him. she wants him to love her as she is. so she sings, her voice clear and powerful and cutting through the air. she hopes he can hear it.

then one day a figure walks to the beach, and it’s him, her prince. “hello?” he calls out, “are you out there? are you – please, it was you that saved me, wasn’t it? won’t you come out and let me see you?”

so she does, waves her tail at him until he catches sight of her and takes hesitant, disbelieving steps closer.

“you’re a mermaid,” he says, eyes wide, “i thought i saw – but it couldn’t be.”

“i am, and it can,” she says, heart beating wildly in her chest. he’s just as handsome as she remembered, and she wants him just as much. “my name is ariel.”

“ariel,” he repeats, and pulls off his boots and goes wading into the water, watching her to see if she flinches away from him. she doesn’t, and his strides grow bolder. “my name is eric.”

“eric,” she whispers, and when he’s close enough he touches her, trailing fingers across the bare skin of her shoulder and tangling them in her hair.

when he kisses her, she feels powerful enough to undo the world.

so there’s that now, spending her nights with her grandmother and her prince, and she knows how to make her own legs now, could walk onto land and be made a queen among the two legged men.

but she’s a princess here first, and before she can do that she needs to take care of something.

ursula.

the rotten sea witch with her rotten sea magic won’t be allowed to torment her people any longer.

she tells her grandmother, and amphitrite smiles and says, “an excellent decision, child. i’ve enjoyed our time together, but i think it’s time for me to sleep once more. i’ve taught you everything i can.”

and tears prick ariel’s eyes, but she holds them back. she knew that it couldn’t be forever, that her grandmother can’t die but no longer desires to live and this is the in-between.

“you’ll be an amazing queen,” amphitrite murmurs, and closes her eyes for a millennia more.

this isn’t something to be done in the dead of night, although it would be easier to do it then.

she will make a spectacle of it, she will remind the sea that her people are not to be trifled with.

once upon a time they feared a blue eyed, red haired sea queen with the power to destroy them all. it’s time for them to do so again.

so she drives ursula to the center of the city. her sisters cower and people hide, and her father comes rushing forward to save her.

“you’ve committed great crimes against my people,” she says, not flinching as lightning gathers in the sea witch’s hands, “so now shall a great crime be committed against you.”

“foolish girl,” the sea witch snarls.

triton is yelling. he won’t get there in time.

he doesn’t have to.

she doesn’t need to sing anymore. instead she lifts her hands and pulls ursula apart without ever touching her, not only renders flesh from bone but also sets free the souls she’s been hoarding, reverses the magic done to those who’d fallen into the sea witch’s trap.

they all stare at her, her people, her father, and her sisters. she looks to triton and says, “i’m not a little girl anymore.”

he opens his mouth, closes it again, then says, “i can see that.”

all at once everyone’s perceptions are turned sideways about their youngest princess. she commands a power that even her father doesn’t have access to, she’s not depressed and dreamy – she’s powerful young woman who knows exactly what she’s doing.

so she does what she wanted to do, she gives herself legs and steps onto the sand and launches herself into eric’s arms. she becomes his bride, and the rumors run rampant of what she is, of where she came from, but they can’t prove anything and so they rule.

they live long, happy lives. ariel is his consort, his advisor, his wife, his tactician, and his best friend. all those years reading drowned books have certainly paid off. she ages herself along with her husband, bears his children and then teaches them they ways of her – their – people.

her husband dies, and she disappears, like the stories of selkie women that everyone whispers around her. their children give their father a sea burial, and vow to see him again one day. what they know and none of their subjects do is this – their father’s body isn’t in that casket.

she returns to her ocean, her legs form into her glittering green tail, and she goes home. she uses her terribly powerful magic, and brings her husband with her. she went from princess ariel of the sea to queen ariel of the land, and now she’s back again.

she’s not quite a teenager, but neither is she the old woman she pretended to be on land. she’s returned her and her husband to the prime of their life, and as she gained legs to be with him, he now gives his up to be with her.

eric becomes a merman, and a prince by virtue of being ariel’s husband.

she returns to her family and her world without missing a beat, and they all welcome her as if she never left, treat her husband with kindness and respect.

because they all know.

it doesn’t matter that she’s the youngest. when, far in the future, triton’s reign ends –

ariel’s reign will begin.

Some Strings Attached

Ugh so there was a post going around that I’ve now long since misplaced but it was like “I just saw you go upstairs with someone else and I know we’re only fuck buddies but I’m gonna go punch them in the face” and I was HERE FOR IT. If somebody remembers the post, link me. In the meantime, have some Sterek getting together fluff.

“Just tell Derek you want to date him,” Scott says, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world.

Stiles bugs his eyes and flails his hands in wordless frustration, because the correct response to this patently ludicrous advice eludes him. He had come for sympathy, not pie-in-the-sky delusions. “Scott. Bro,” he finally gasps. “How could you even suggest that in good faith? No way! Bad plan!” He slashes his arms in a demonstrative X. “The only reason we’re even hooking up is that I made it super clear I was down to fuck, no strings attached! I’m not ruining a good thing by announcing to Derek Hale that I’m 85% in love with him.”

“Why?” Scott genuinely seems confused, the sweet summer child. After falling into a happy triad with Allison and Isaac after their first semester at UCLA, he doesn’t really understand the definition of “unrequited.”

Stiles turns his attention to a hanging thread on his t-shirt, sourly tugging it loose. “He’s out of my league. I mean, with the baseball, and the smarts, and the sarcasm, and those eyes…” he breaks off with a sigh. The last thing he needs to do is remind himself of how gone he is on Derek. “Just, he’s popular. Dictionary definition of too cool for school. And the three people he actually deigns to hang out with here are all just as cool and good looking as he is. Do I need to remind you I’m not? I’m a gawky, nerdy Sophomore. I’m lucky to even be his fuck-buddy.”

Scott makes a face, incredulous. “I dunno, he must like you well enough if he’s still sleeping with you after all this time. What’s it been, six months? And you guys hang out, too, you’re always telling me about how easy it is to chat with him after you bone. So it’s not just sex.”

Stiles grimaces. “Yeah, but it’s not…”


“… a real relationship,” Derek says into the phone, hearing full well the heavy dejection in his voice. So sue him; the admission is more than a little depressing. “He just wants to be fuck buddies.”

“How do you know?” Laura asks reasonably. “Maybe this Stiles person would be interested in dating you, too. No offence, but you’re not great at reading people. I mean, he’s interested in chilling with you even after you hook up, and clearly he enjoys the physical aspect. Did he actually ever say he wasn’t looking for more?”

Derek heaves a sigh, rolling his eyes even though she can’t see over the phone. “Yep. About two minutes after the first time we slept together he said, ‘no strings attached, obviously.’ So, you know, pretty safe bet that it’s no strings attached.”

“Oh,” Laura says. For once she doesn’t have a snappy comeback.

“Oh,” Derek agrees. Dejectedly.

She gives him a sympathetic little hum, and then asks, “and he’ll definitely be at the sorority barbecue?”

“Yeah.” Stiles and his broad shoulders and his long fingers are definitely going to be at the party.

“Maybe you shouldn’t go,” his sister says softly. “If you really like him, and he’s just looking to get laid…”

Derek groans. Not go, and give up a chance to hook up with Stiles? Smart, maybe, but not something he’s capable of doing.

The problem is, he’s liked Stiles forever. Or at least since he first saw him, laughing uproariously and running around with his friends with an actually broom between his legs, playing “Quidditch.” Derek would have been way too embarrassed to do something like that on the front lawn, but Stiles made it seem like the most effortlessly awesome thing a person could get up to.

No, compared to Stiles, Derek is practically a social recluse, an awkward jock with only about three people who he gets along with at all. Stiles definitely doesn’t want to get saddled with a boyfriend like him. He’s lucky they’re even hooking up after all this time.

“Derek, I mean it,” Laura says. “Look out for yourself for once.”

“I know, I know,” Derek grumbles. “But it’s not my fault he’s…”

Keep reading

A Finite Amount of Love

The first time Rose did it, it was out of ignorance.

The second was desperation.

The third time she did not do it. If she had, it would have been purely malicious.

She resisted it the fourth time too, and the fifth, the sixth and the seventh. 

The eighth time she never got the choice: she died first.

The first, though—the first was Adam. An eager and honest bucktooth man with blond hair in ringlets that reminded Rose just a bit of her own. Adam was the first human Rose fell in love with, and it was different. It wasn’t her normal human love, that soft and gentle maternal kind. This love was bubbly and effervescent. It was walks alone just the two of them that felt giddy and new and anxious eager jolts in her mind of touching his skin and investigating his lips and getting close, close like humans do, in a way that wasn’t fusion.

And 58 was far too young an age, Rose thought, for Adam to fade. He burst out in sores that corrupted his human form and could not heal, would not heal, and no human could save him. So Rose did. Adam died, and Rose shed just enough tears to bring him back into existence.

Things didn’t change all at once. For years nothing was different than the novelty of Adam’s ringleted hair truly matching Rose’s. But humans experience the passing of decades different from Gems. Adam grew solemn when all his friends died. He made new ones. Then 50 years later, they all died as well.

Adam’s body remained healthy. But it seemed the human mind wasn’t equipped for centuries of life. Maybe humans had a finite amount of love packaged into them, meant to well up from the soul for 70 or 80 years at most. Adam ran out of love. He packed his things, just a single bag on his shoulder, and he told Rose he would leave forever.

Rose let him go, but her heart still broke, because Gems work on a much larger time scale.

Samuel was the next man in her life, a mere 30 years later, and he was spry, bubbly, energetic, overflowing with a sort of giddy love that Rose felt would last and last. She swept him up in her arms and spun with him on the briny beach front, her bare feet molding in the sand as they swirled and danced, day after day, year after year. She and Samuel married, as was a custom among Samuel’s kind, and he gathered a batch of humans larger than Rose had seen since the victory against Homeworld.

Samuel turned 75 faster than Rose could measure. He was gray and worn, thin and knotted at the joints, senile and immobile when Rose still wanted to dance with him on the beach. He did not wake up one morning, and it was too soon for Rose. She wept, honest heavy wet tears that poured the life back into a husk that dried too soon.

Samuel lasted another 75 years after that. But he burned down, slower than Adam but still the same. His human light died. He wept too hard for his family and friends, for the children of his first marriage and his children’s children, and their children… He grew solemn, and cold, and inconsolable, and one day he told Rose he wanted to explore the ocean with his infinite age. Alone. Without her. His human love had burnt itself to the wick.

The heartache hit worse. Rose gave her hand and heart and time to no other man for decades. Not the curious sailors who came hat-in-hand to the Temple. Not the outcast townsfolk who came to investigate the myths of the magical women out by the briny shore. She waited, and waited, until that ache in her chest grew too heavy, and she let a young and spindly man named Wilson woo her. He took her out to sea on a rickety hand-crafted boat, and he pointed out the wonders of the vast sea to her, and Rose wondered silently if ever they might cross Samuel’s path.

Wilson grew old when Rose was not paying attention. She went to visit him one day, and found only a sickly man curled up in bed, breathing in wheezes, blinking through milky eyes. Garnet found her that evening, Garnet with the ability to see the paths laid out ahead of her. She warned Rose not to follow through this time, and Rose did not. And Wilson died.

Mark with the thick orange brows was slowly whittled down to thin scraggly gray hairs, like fuzzy caterpillars resting on his lip and brow the day he died. Seth had only hit 30 when his carriage was lost off the side of the road in a blizzard, his body found days after. Wallace made it to 76. Jeremy to 64…

When she met Greg, Rose reached a selfish conclusion. She would be the human this time. She would be the human wife that Adam, Samuel, Wilson, Seth, Mark, Wallace, Jeremy never had…she would be the one to give him a child.

And she would die first this time.

The other men had seemed so peaceful when they passed, Rose thought in hindsight. A life well-lived. A life fulfilled. Not like Adam, not like Samuel, whittled down to husks and then nothing but a puppet on strings, in a body strewn about, too spent and stressed for a human. She wanted to know that peace of a life lived to its end. She wanted to pass on her chance of experiencing the world to a new human, a new generation, like all humans were so happy to do.

Rose died first. Steven lived on.

Lars has not visited Beach City in centuries. Pearl, Garnet, and Amethyst still live there, he knows that, but he never knew them well. He never properly met the green and blue ones either.

He travels sometimes. Mostly he lingers. Wherever he ends up. It’s all a blur. Where he’s been and where he’s going. Just not Beach City. He’s visited those old homes too many times, and he saw them all demolished over time. Nothing’s left for him there.

Lars does not quite know where he is. He does not particularly care. It’s indoors, and dim, and a man is logging orders on a holographic tablet one table over. It’s a restaurant of sorts. Lars doesn’t need to eat, but if he orders a coffee, they will probably let him linger longer.

Lars stares out the window. He does that often. He’s run out of other things to do over the years. He’s gotten numb to most of it.

A shadow of a man slides into the booth with Lars. He takes the space on the opposite side of the table. He’s wearing a rain poncho, a thin and ultra-light orange material for maximum hydrophobic effect. He looks old, eyes lined with wrinkles beneath the hood. Lars swallows the urge to ask him what he wants as the man lowers the hood.

His hair cascades in ringlets, each the same pale and luminous pink as the hair on Lars’ head.

He sticks a hand out, and offers a thin smile that doesn’t quite touch his eyes.

“I’m Adam. I noticed your hair from the other side of the bar. Sorry to intrude, but could we talk a moment…?”

Sexting (Jimin smut)

Originally posted by minblush


Summary: On a lonely night, you decide to sign up for an anonymous sexting site. Of course you are matched with the notorious fuckboy you’re constantly trying to avoid. Park fucking Jimin.

Themes: Sexting, Fuckboy Jimin, College AU.

Pairing: You x Jimin

Word Count: 4k

This fic contains: Explicit and graphic depictions of smut, sex over the phone, swearing. 


ENTER USERNAME:

Cleopatra123

WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING FOR?

Male/Female

WHERE ARE YOU FROM?

I’d rather not say/enter here:

WHAT ARE YOU INTERESTED IN?

Decent conversation/making friends/finding a language buddy/other

PLEASE INDICATE YOUR AGE PREFERANCE:

19-24

CLICK ‘CHAT’ TO BE MATCHED WITH A PARTNER!

YOU HAVE BEEN MATCHED WITH ‘THOR562’.

THOR562: 21 years old- Seoul, South Korea- also interested in ‘other’.

WOULD YOU LIKE TO CHAT?

Yes/No

YOU ARE NOW IN A CHAT WITH THOR562, ENJOY!


Keep reading

See Yeh Break

Harry X Reader: Smut

In which you become well acquainted with Harry’s thigh.

Request? Yes:

riding harrys leg on a balacony overlooking the aegean on a sunny july day

THIGH RIDING THIGH RIDING THIGH RIDING THIGH RIDING THIGH RIDING THIGH RIDING THIGH RIDING THIGH RIDING THIGH RIDING THIGH RIDING THIGH RIDING THIGH RIDING PLEASE

Author’s note: The beginning turned all mushy? Idk what that’s about (Yes I do. It’s because I’m fucking whipped for mushy Harry.) but if the transition seems sudden, whooops. :)


This vacation is an absolute blessing. A week away from the madness and noise of fans and paps and meetings. From the moment the two of you arrived to your private little getaway on the coast, Harry’s been warm and relaxed, and you couldn’t ask for anything more than that.

Keep reading

i could be good with you

Summary: Cuddling up to Otabek has always been easy and normal for Yuri. So when Otabek starts avoiding him, it hurts a lot more than he expects. (2nd place giveaway prize for @some-sort-of-firefly !! Prompt: confessions and first kisses. otayuri. word count: 1237)


They’ve always been comfortable with being close together physically. That’s how it’s been, and that’s how it always will be.

At first, it was never the way Viktor and Yuuri are always draped over each other in public – god, Yuri would rather never step foot on the ice again than be anything like those two – but it’s more of the subtle things, such as Yuri wrapping his arms around Otabek during motorcycle rides, or Otabek’s hand gently holding the small of Yuri’s back as he leads them through the streets.

Then it started becoming, well, less subtle. Such as the multiple times Yuri has tackles Otabek in a hug after a long period of time without seeing each other, Otabek playing with Yuri’s hair and braiding it to different styles, and falling asleep together on the same bed, arms wrapped around each other.

For Yuri, it’s something natural, comforting. Nothing calms him down more than Otabek’s touch, warm and steady and easy to focus on when he’s starting to lose his temper. He’s sure that his best naps he’s had have always been with Otabek’s arms around him. Otabek is such a comforting presence that is now hard to live without.

As of late, though, he’s noticed that Otabek has been distancing himself from him, physically. Everything else has been the same, but Otabek no longer plays with his hair or takes his hand, or, well, anything. He’s been conscious with how he moves when he’s around Yuri, and whenever Yuri tries to initiate the contact himself, it only takes a few minutes before Otabek gently moves Yuri’s hands away from him.

It’s… concerning. And lonely, he finds out, when Otabek smiles at him apologetically that night and says he’d rather sleep in his own hotel room for the rest of their time in France for the Grand Prix Finals. He doesn’t get much sleep that night. And when he sees Otabek yawning and rubbing his eyes the next day, he knows he isn’t the only one.

So what gives?

Keep reading

Praise Kink

In which Harry is incredibly nervous and y/n knows just how to calm him down.

A/N: WELL I did it. Barely.  I managed to get this finished before Harry’s single dropped so that I’ll be able to freak out in peace tonight.  I hope you enjoy because this is… kinda filthy.  LOVE YA BUY SIGN OF THE TIMES ON ITUNES!

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Your friends all crushing on Damian Wayne

• You thought they were joking when they pointed to Damian.

•You gave him the nickname Double A.

•Arrogance and Animosity.

•They had a hard time trying to figure out how to get his attention.

•Once they tried just walking up to him to start a conversation.

•Instant fail, he ignored them all.

•He constantly glares at your group when they whisper about him.

•Once glared directly at you.

•You gave a sheepish smile and a slight wave.

•Valentines day was a disaster.

•So was Christmas.

•He dumped all the presents in the trash.

•"You still like Double A?“
•"Yes!, he’s just playing hard to get.”
•"Uh… I mean if you want to put it that way.“

•You once had to grab a book from the library a couple blocks away.

•Damian was walking in front of you.

•Both ended up waiting for the stop light.

•"Why are you following me Y/N?”

•How does he know your name????

•"Not following you, just trying to get to the library. My friends would be the one’s to follow you though.“

•Damian huffed
•"Which is quite the nuisance.”

•"Yeah… sorry about that.“

•You gave Damian a sympathetic smile.

•He turned his head to the other side pretending to look at the passing cars.

•Actually he just got flustered and had to calm himself down.

•Damian stuck his hand towards you.

•"Since your not following me I wish to become acquaintances.”

•You shook his hand.

•"Friends would also be nice too.“

•For some reason he really like touching your hand.

•It was warm and soft. He wanted to hold your hand again.

•3 months later and your friends still were in to Damian.

•You stopped calling him Double A since he sometimes… sometimes talks to you.

•One day he just walked up to your table.

•You friends flipped out and swarmed him.

•"What do you need Damian?” One of your friends ask twirling her hair.

•"Y/N.“

•Everyone froze.

•Your friends all looked at you.

•"Y/N?”

•"Yes Y/N.“

•He slightly nudged your friends out of the way.

•He stood there with a stoic expression, you had a nervous one.

•"Will you accompany me to a museum this Saturday?”

•You wordlessly nodded your head giving a slight grin seeing your friends expressions.

•Damian nodded and began to walk away.

•You saw his mouth curve into small smile as he sat back down.

Sick of Losing You

Plot: Harry and Y/N lost each other when he found someone else.

Warnings: None aside that it kinda broke my heart.

Playlist to the one shot: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL2S-tehb1XqDqkmE4xnz7-SciJy61soVf

Thanks to @interfectorems for being such a good friend, supporter and for requesting this. 
Songs that are mentioned but not on the playlist are “Out of the Woods” by Taylor Swift & “If You don’t Know” by 5Sos.

Pic of this beauty isn’t mine.

I watched from a far how he held on to her hand, his fingers grasping and squeezing hers gently while his eyes never left her pretty face. He watched her speak with such an intensity in his green eyes, as if he literally saw nothing other than her. His girlfriend. Not me.
I took a deep breath, swallowed the thick lump building in my throat and turned away from the sight.
Exactly three weeks ago, Harry and I had shared a kiss. Our first kiss, which had been exactly how I’d secretly always wished for it to be. Of course it had been. Every time you get to kiss the person you love is special and like fireworks painting colors into the sky.

He’d been talking and listening to me all night, similar to how he now was with her and had at some point reached out to hold my hand, just like he was holding hers in this moment.
When the time felt right, he’d leant in and had captured my lips with his. Needless to say, Harry was a phenomenal kisser. He knew when to press further, when to use how much tongue and was very attentive to how my body responded to his. Whenever I thought about it now, my cheeks tingled with the memory of his hands cupping them gently as he cradled my face to keep me close. He’d been so soft, so perfect. Harry had touched me with a tenderness, I thought it’d break my heart. I remembered wrapping my arms around his neck and feeling like they belonged there, like I was meant to hold him close.
Only that I wasn’t. The girl he was with now only proved how insignificant I was.

I couldn’t help peaking and looking over at him again. Harry’s lips. I knew exactly how they felt when pressed against my own, knew their taste and shape. Their warmth. Harry’s touch was impossible to forget.
I watched him kiss his girlfriend with a mesmerized stare, before moving away and into the kitchen, leaving the small gathering of our friends with a murmured excuse that I needed to get a refill of my drink, when in reality I couldn’t bear seeing the man I loved sharing affectionate kisses with someone else.
But not even the kitchen was a safe area for me. t had been this exact kitchen, the one in Harry’s house, where he’d pulled me aside and told me about her for the first time.

“It’s difficult” I think he said. “It’s my fault that this situation has become so messy.”

Was it silly that I could actually still remember every word he spoke to me? That I’d engraved every pause, every take in of breath he made, deeply into my head?

“Listen, Y/N… You’re important to me. I care about you. Need you, it’s just… There is someone. Someone who could be a chance for a relationship and I really want to give this a go. Give her a go, I mean. You can understand that, right?”

At first it’d felt like none of it was real. Because how could he be serious?
Harry. My best friend, Harry.
Only three days after our magical first kiss, three days full of us talking and flirting and texting constantly, he was telling me that he wanted someone else. Her name was Ira. And though he was seemingly behaving the same way with her he had been with me, we weren’t the same. In fact, she was everything I wasn’t. So when he told me he wanted her and not me, that he was picking her over of me, how come I’d been surprised?

I would never be his first choice, not when there were thousands of others he could choose from. And it was time for my brain to learn to not interpret every kind gesture, time to learn to stop overthinking every word. It was time for my head to accept, that there was no way Harry Styles could possibly want me.

So… I had been understanding. Kind even.
I’d lied and told him that yes, I agreed that our kiss had been a mistake. We shouldn’t have done any of that and instead thought of our friendship first, rather than our impulses. I’d kept a smile on my face throughout the entire talk and even finished the short chat by wishing him good luck with her. Another lie.

My fingers shook and so I set the empty glass of my drink down quickly, worried for a moment that I might otherwise spill the last few drops. I didn’t think much when I reached for the bottle of vodka on the counter. There was no getting through this night if I didn’t have something proper to drink. If only I remembered the recipe….

“Need help?”

My shoulders tensed. It couldn’t be him. Please… anyone, literally anyone, but him.

However when I turned around, Harry was there. He stood tall and beautiful, his short hair soft and wavy. Harry’s compelling eyes held my gaze with such a tender rawness in them, my knees weakened. All my body burned for was to wrap my arms around his shoulders and have him embrace me, have him tell me that everything would be okay again. I felt like I needed it, but knew that this was a wish I would be denied. Harry must have felt it, too. It was in the air around us. It had changed and… buzzed. As if being in each other’s presence made the world halt still for a moment.

“I’m sorry,” Harry chuckled lowly when I didn’t say anything. How could he smile like everything was alright?

And what was it he was apologizing for? Abandoning our friendship? Ruining any hope I’d had to find a partner in him? Shattering my heart? Hardly.

“For scaring you,” Harry elaborated, a sudden hint of guilt in his eyes, almost as if he’d read my thoughts.

“It’s fine, Harry,” I muttered, bearing a false smile, “All good.”

It was hard to look at him. Especially his eyes. They burned a whole into my chest whenever my own orbs found them. They reminded me of the Harry he once was, the one I could always come to and rely on.

“What are you doing?” Harry asked, his head nodding towards the bottle of vodka. His forehead furrowed in a worried expression and I quickly set the container back down.

“I wanted to make myself a drink, but the recipe slipped my mind. I’m not as much of an alcoholic as it must look like.”

“Good to know,” Harry chuckled, then, visibly thinking about it first, took a step forward. “I remember what you like in your favorite drink. Could make you one.”

From how close he was standing, it was easy to notice every detail of his skin. Every curve of his lips, every hair of his barely-there beard. My stomach turned.

“That’d be nice.”

Harry smiled and nodded. “Okay.”

We avoided any touching. I was leant against the counter, he stood with a safe distance between us and only came closer when he needed a different ingredient that happened to be near me. It was awkward and… weird. It didn’t feel like ‘us’. The friends we’d been once seemed to be two completely different people. I knew him and felt he was familiar, but there was a emotional distance between us I knew neither of us could overcome. And still, I was with him and even if we behaved like strangers, being with Harry was nice.

“I think that’s it,” Harry said, breaking the silence. His eyes were set on the pink-orange liquid in my glass, then they drifted to my face. A proud smile pulled at the corners of his mouth.

“You 'think’?” I challenged shyly.

I took the glass from him (cautious not to touch his fingers) and took a sip. It tasted great.

“M'not big of a show off,” Harry grinned, “S'it good?”

I nodded and stirred the colored liquid once more. “Thanks, Harry.”

“You’re welcome, Y/N.” His voice was soft and his gaze shy.

The air around us shifted once more. My eyes teared up. What had happened to us? Harry and I… we used to be the kind of friends who didn’t stopped talking to each other for hours. At first, we’d be loud. We’d laugh and giggle so much eventually both of our tummies hurt. That was when we’d change the subject and speak more quietly, until several hours later our conversations drifted to topics only we were allowed to hear. Then we’d be whispering and sitting closer together, always an eager sparkle in the other’s eyes as we both listened with interest about what was being said.

I quickly turned away and pretended to yawn. My eyes blinked rapidly and I willed them not to cry in front of him. Not because of embarrassment, but because I couldn’t do that to him. I’d given him my okay. I had no right to be mad at him for having found someone else. Harry remained standing close and with his hands in the front pockets of his black jeans.

“I think I should go,” I muttered.

I held my head low and took a deep breath before looking at him briefly. Harry’s eyes held concern and his fingers twitched, as if he longed to reach out for me.

“Y/N, love,” he began lowly, “Do you think we could talk for a bit? S'been a while since I got to see you. Hear your voice. I missed you.”

This time when my eyes met his green orbs, I didn’t look away, even though I could feel the tears forming and coming closer to spilling over. Harry’s whole expression changed. His cheeks paled and his forehead furrowed deeper.

“I miss you, too, Harry,” I admitted, my weak voice barely above a whisper.

“No,” he mumbled, shaking his head slowly, sorrow deeply set in his eyes. His feet stepped closer and his warm hands touched my flushed cheeks before I even had the chance to back away from him. The unexpected closeness caught me off guard and had more tears coming, this time because of how much I hated how uncommon this sort of care from him had become.

Harry embraced me. His head buried itself into my neck and both arms wrapped themselves around my waist so he could lift me up from my feet. “Please no, Y/N, Sweetheart. Don’t cry.”

I couldn’t help it. My heart, the final bit that had been whole still, broke in his caring hands and I was overcome and pulled under a wave of grief. That was what I was doing. I was grieving our friendship and the lost hope I’d had for a relationship with him. And he allowed it. He let me cry against his collarbones without any complaint and instead began to hum quietly, knowing how much his voice always soothed me. Pain shot through my chest. He probably did the same when she was upset.

“I can’t-” I cried, but got cut off by my lungs that burned with need for air.

Harry hushed me, his hold tightening, “Don’t, Y/N. It’s going to be alright.”

I shook my head and loosened the hold I’d taken around his neck. My hands momentarily brushed his soft hair, then I pulled away. Harry hesitated but allowed me to step out of his hold.

“I can’t take it anymore, Harry,” I confessed, my voice breaking halfway through the sentence. I reached up to brush my cheeks with the end of my sleeve and hiccuped. My head felt numb and I knew if I didn’t get out of this kitchen soon, he’d witness a break down I wasn’t comfortable with him seeing.

Harry’s hand reached for my arm. I didn’t fight it when he pulled me closer to him, but avoided his eyes when he leaned down to find my gaze.

“Y/N,” he spoke, his voice rough with emotion, “I promise you, it’ll be alright. M'not leaving, okay? M'not. We’ll figure this out.”

I wanted to scream but all I could was shake my head rapidly. “Figure this out how? What have we become, Harry?”

Another sob wrecked through my chest.

“I don’t know,” he confessed, “But we’re going to find each other again, okay? I promise. Let me say goodbye to the others and then we’ll go for a walk or something. We’ll talk. About everything and nothing at all… Just like we always used to, yeah?”

Used to. So long ago, it seemed.

“Okay,” I whispered, my burning eyes set on my feet. My skin shivered under his warmth and my lips hurt from how much I was bitting them.

I flinched when his mouth pressed a kiss to my head. The skin was left with a burning sensation. “Wait for me here, love.”

Harry’s quick feet carried him out of the kitchen and left me standing by the counter with my heart at the pit of my stomach. I stood up straight and brushed the few remaining tears from my cheeks. My skin tingled and I felt the hint of a smile on my lips, even though my body ached.
Looking back now, I wish I would have stayed put by the counter and had waited for him just like he’d asked me to. I wish I hadn’t been impatient and eager to reunite with Harry, because that eagerness drove me to exit the kitchen shortly after him and turn the corner, allowing me clear view into the living room.
There he stood. His arms around her thin form, his hands in her long hair and his lips kissing hers. All air was knocked right out of me. I could see how his hands gently moved against her neck, bringing her in closer and their bodies flush together. When their lips parted for a moment, I could see how he let his tongue run along his lower lip, as if he wanted to make sure he got all of her taste. And I could see him smile warmly at her, right before he leaned back in to connect their mouths once more. This sight… it burned.
I didn’t wait for him. Because I had been wrong before. My heart wasn’t truly broken until that moment, witnessing the man I loved with my everything, kissing a woman who wasn’t me. And if he wasn’t going to leave me, if he was just going to keep me close and allow my heart to shatter over and over again, then I supposed I would have to be the one to go first.
So that’s what I did. I walked back to the entryway, slid on my jacket, picked up my bag, and left the house. Left, to never come back to Harry Styles.

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I was inspired by @lazulisong‘s utter brilliance.

The moment Takeshi learned of Yuuri’s ginormous crush on Victor Nikiforov, he lifted Yuuri’s sweatshirt, took a big handful of belly, and shouted loud enough to wake Yuuri’s dead grandmother, “Keep dreaming, round boy! Victor would never want a tubbo like you!”

Oh, but if only Takeshi knew that Victor Nikiforov not only wants a tubbo like Yuuri but that he cried when Yuuri announced that it was time to drop the weight in preparation for the new season. Cried actual tears. The kind of tears usually reserved for deaths in the family or losing everything in a fire. The kind he shed when he thought Yuuri was breaking up with him. Bitter, heart-wrenching tears that leave him red-faced and heaving, then stumbling around hours later, wrung completely dry.

To be fair, Victor cries like that about literally everything—Yuuri landing a quad, surprise candlelight dinners, children in oversized parkas, murals that feature the color cerulean, dogs in movies (not just when they die, but when they’re there at all), the fourth ringtone on his new phone, daffodils, the word ‘sorbet’, and aerosol deodorant—but what Takeshi doesn’t know won’t prove him right, so.

“Maybe you can postpone it another week,” Victor mumbles into the kitchen table, where he fell into a chair and just sort of… deflated everywhere. He’s lying on top of the newspaper. Yuuri really wants to read it.

“You told Yurio he should’ve started training two weeks ago.”

Victor gives a despondent shrug. “He should’ve. Instead he’s been spending all his time Skyping with that degenerate.”

“You love Otabek. You hugged him and said you were proud to welcome him to the family, then you dumped a bag of condoms in his lap and cried because—and I quote—you were trusting him to take care of your most precious child.” And then a mortified, blushing Yurio slammed the airport shuttle door on Victor’s fingers.

Victor’s bandaged hand lifts and cuts through the air as though it were a tiny boat sailing on a choppy sea. Yuuri isn’t entirely sure what it means, but whatever it is? It’s suitably dramatic. “Yurio’s different.”

“Except not really.” Across the table, Yuuri studies the part in his hair, which looks a little… wider than usual. And sadder. It looks like a frown. He wants to lean forward to touch it, but that would do nothing except set Victor off again, and at the moment there isn’t enough fluid in Victor’s body to sustain him as it is. Instead, he pushes his own glass of orange juice toward him. “Vitya, please, drink something and replenish, would you? I don’t want to even think about what the headlines would say tomorrow if I let you pass out while we’re running this evening.”

At that, Victor lifts his head. Yuuri could skate an entire program based on the sheer betrayal on Victor’s face. “We’re running already? But we can’t! Not yet! I'm—You’re not ready. Another week. I’m putting my foot down, as your coach.”

“You’re a terrible coach,” Yuuri says. “I mean that. I want that on record. I can’t believe I’ve put my career in your hands. Can I fire you?”

“I’m a good husband, though, so it all cancels out,” Victor points out, which, okay, fair point. And he proves it by sliding both of his hands across the table and making grabby motions with his fingers. Well, one hand does. The bandaged one looks like a mummified sock puppet. “Don’t leave meeeeee.”

“I’m not leav—” Yuuri pauses, then rolls his eyes so hard he’s almost positive that he sprains something. “Oh. You were talking to my—”

“Squishyyyyyy.”

It comes out on the back of a long, sinuous whine. At Yuuri’s feet, Makkachin stirs, and he places his foot gently on her back and rubs until she settles. “I’m not going to bust my ass twice as hard just so you can manhandle me whenever you want.”

Victor’s head thunks back onto the table between his outstretched arms. “But you’re so soft and squishy, and it’s my favorite, and soon you’re going to be all bony and hard.”

“You’ve never once complained about me being hard,” Yuuri deadpans, then hides his face in his hands, because honestly. Victor cackles dementedly. “Look, I know you like my… well. I appreciate it, but I really need to start training yesterday if we’re going for the gold.”

Victor throws himself off of the table and drapes himself backward over his chair with a groan that honestly deserves an award. “Fine! Fine. Nobody ever told me that so much of being married is making sacrifices.”

It would be so easy for Yuuri to just turn his head and stare at the framed cross-stitch on the microwave that reads Sacrifice is one of the purest and most selfless ways to love someone. Practice it daily. Instead, he nudges the glass of juice a little closer, because, well. Sacrifice.

“Buck up,” Yuuri says cheerfully. “I’ll be back to being squishy before you know it.”

With a grumble, Victor reaches for the glass.

And while no one could ever accuse Yuuri of being the type to hold a grudge, he can’t deny the small, dark part of him that wants to call up Takeshi right this second and crow, “Round Boy got his, you jerk!”

@taylor-tut tHIS IS SO LATE I’M SO SORRY MY FAB FRIENDO! But! It has finally arrived!! I’m sorry if it’s a bit crappy, I like haven’t slept in three days haha

anyhoo, onto the story:


Lance woke up with a sneeze.

He blinked his eyes open, immediately groaning at the light that pierced through his eyeballs and into his temples. He brought an arm up to shield his face, shivering slightly. Taking a deep breath, Lance conducted a mental survey of his condition, assessing his apparently numerous ailments that seem to have manifested overnight.

Congested sinuses that dissolved into a throbbing headache that pulsed outward with each movement? Check. 

Raw, sandpaper throat, and lungs that rattled with every inhale? Check.

The strange sensation of being completely, bone-numbingly cold despite the warmth and clamminess of his limbs? Checkerooni.

Conclusion: Today is gonna suck.

If Lance were to be perfectly honest with himself, he would concede that he had been feeling off these last couple days. Nevertheless, the team needed his 100% right now, and any wooziness he may have felt had to be put on the backburner. With several months having passed without any sign of Shiro, tensions within the castle were palpable.  Keith and Pidge seemed inches away from snapping at any given moment, Allura’s training schedule seemed to have been kicked up the several notches from “very harsh” to “dear god I can taste my own pulse”, and even Hunk and Coran seemed somewhat subdued. It was the least Lance could do to try and keep up, and make sure the other’s stayed optimistic. He was the joker, the sharpshooter - it was his role, no matter how taxing it could be on his own body.

Lance steeled himself, counting down from five, before swinging out of his bed, pausing to lean against the wall as a wave of dizziness washed over him. Once the tilt-a-whirl he usually called a bedroom settled to a soft swaying, Lance began to make his way down to the dining hall.

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deal | pt 2 (m)

Originally posted by sugamysavagebaby

summary: the years spent working hard had really paid off and was it so wrong to want to rub that in a few faces? The cliché mean girls that often teased you for not doing anything with your hair or clothing, wouldn’t it be great to show off someone like Jungkook? High school reunion au + ceo!jeon

word count: 6,848 

warning: pure filth you’re welcome

part one | part three


Jungkook is no longer tender, his lips ravish your body in such a way that it has you believing that the powerful kiss you had shared earlier that evening was nothing but a mere brush of flesh upon flesh.  Hands don’t hold you like priceless porcelain, instead it’s with a vice like grip that he clings to the skin of your hips almost as if he’d cease to exist if he let go.

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Vodka

This is sorta lame and cheesy, but it’s basically just a fluffy Imagine about Tom being a cute boyfriend and taking care of his drunk girlfriend💗
Author’s Note: This is a oneshot inspired by sorta me? My mom had a party and made a ton of mixed drinks, and because I’m a dumb baby that never drinks, I forgot that vodka literally punches you in a face when you drink too much of it? Anyways, I got drunk and ended up crying to one of my cousins for about 40 minutes about all the reasons why I love Tom? Apparently, I’m even more cheesy and sentimental drunk than I am sober, who knew lol?

Vodka
She giggled to herself, ankles knocking into each other as she braced herself on the door of her apartment. She was absolutely, completely, and undeniably smashed. Truly, she couldn’t even remember how she’d gotten this way, but then again, she could barely recall her uber ride home.
Her hands kept shaking and she couldn’t find the correct key to fit itself into the doorknob. At this rate, she’d be out all night.
Tom paused the film he was watching and glanced back towards the front door. He was pretty sure that he could hear someone out there, but it was probably just their neighbor’s being noisy. Allowing the film to regain his full attention, he did his best to ignore the strange sounds outside, until he heard something that replicated her giggle.
His eyebrows knitted together in confusion. She was supposed to be at a sleepover with her best friends, not coming home at one in the morning? Tom got up and made his way over to the window by the door. Peeking out, he saw that the giggle outside indeed belonged to her, and she appeared to be struggling hugely with the task of opening the door.
Quickly crossing to help her inside, Tom yanked open the door and barely had time to catch her as she crashed in on top of him.
“Tom!” She yelped excitedly, making no effort to move off of him, instead cuddling further into him, while he laid sprawled across the floor with her lying on his chest. “Do you wanna hear a joke? It’s so dirty and I know how you love dirty things!” She explained innocently, her eyelashes tickling his neck.
Tom chuckled, “Darling, come on up here. We’ve gotta close the door.”
“Okay, I’ll tell you!” She leaned over him, “What did Cinderella do when she got to the ball?”
“You’re absolutely wrecked.” Tom laughed, taking in her mussed up appearance. She still looked good, how could she not? Her skirt was just shorter, her breasts were more exposed than she’d be comfortable with sober, and her eyemakeup was slightly smudged. Her hair tumbled down her back in messy waves and she teetered on her high heels.
If she had come home sober, Tom would’ve dragged her off to bed with him, but alas, she was drunk and needed to be taken care of.
“She gagged!” His girlfriend giggled, finishing up the butt of her joke. “Do you get it?”
Tom burst out laughing and cradled the back of her head as he rolled her onto her side so that he could get up to lock the door. “Yes, baby, I do. Where’d you hear that one?”
She didn’t even seem to have registered what he asked her because, in response, she said, “I don’t think I’d be Cinderella if I was a disney princess. She gags, but not me. I don’t gag, unless you make me.”
“Oh my gosh, you’re going to be so embarrassed in the morning.” Tom said, slipping his hands beneath her arms to pick her up. Helping her down the hallway to their bedroom, he asked, “Darling, how come you’re not with your friends right now?”
She blinked her eyes slowly and licked her lips. “We were all talking, and drinking. So, so, so much drinking. Did you know that vodka is strong? Like, it’s so strong, because, I’m not sure if you can tell, but,” She leaned closer to his chest and pressed herself up onto her tippy toes to whisper in his ear, “I’m kinda drunk right now.”
Turning his head towards her, he decided to play along, “Are you serious? I’d had no clue.”
“Well, yes! Anywho,” She dragged out the last letter of anywho before she tripped over herself again.
Tom caught her and slipped a firmer hand around her waist. “Anywho?” He pressed.
“We were all talking about our boyfriends, and how much we love them, because, I love you so much. And then, we started talking about the stuff we do with our boyfriends.” She paused in the hallway to poke Tom’s chest, “That’s my favorite shirt on you.”
“Darling, I’m not wearing a shirt?” Tom said, cocking his head to the side.
“I know,” She smiled, “That’s why it’s my favorite.” She gestured to Tom’s exposed midriff, “This is all great. Like, you look so good. The best.”
Tom dissolved into laughter and shook his head, “My silly, drunk girl. What are we going to do with you?”
“Well, you see, what I’d like you to do with me is make-out. That’s really why I came home. We started talking about some things,” She cupped her hand around Tom’s ear and whispered, “Sexy time things. And we all agreed that I should come home to you so that we could do the sexy time things. Because, I wanna do them, with you.”
Finally crossing the threshold of their bedroom, Tom placed her gently onto the bed and tried to ignore her last statement. Yes, she was his girlfriend. Yes, she’d just told him that she wanted him, and yes, he obviously wanted her too. But, she was drunk, much too drunk to consent to sex with him.
Tonight, Tom would be a good boyfriend and take care of her, but, in the morning, Tom would be a good boyfriend and he’d give her at least 2 orgasms with 2 advil pills to chase away her headache before breakfast.
“Sweet girl, we can’t right now. You’ve been drinking too much, you’re absolutely wasted.” Tom tried to reason with her.
“No, no I’m not. If I was drunk, could I do this?” She took a deep breath, “‘May I feel said he/ (I’ll squeal said she/ just once said he) It’s fun said she/ (May I touch said he/ How much said she/ A lot said he) Why not said she.”
Tom cut her off, “Sweetheart, nothing you say matters right now, you’re too drunk. Now just let me help you out of that dress.” Shaking his head, Tom laughed as he walked over to her with an oversized sweatshirt of his in his hand. Only she would be able to quote E.E. Cummings completely inebriated.
Kneeling in front of her, Tom lifted one of her feet onto his lap to unbuckled her high heeled shoe. Undoing the clasp and carefully removing the heel, he pressed a tender kiss to the top of her foot.
“You know, I like it a lot better when you’re on your knees for a different reason.” She pouted, sitting up to watch him.
Tom chuckled again as he began to remove her other shoe, “Trust me darling, so do I. Roll over-” He didn’t even get to finish his sentence when she interjected.
“Are you gonna spank me?” She asked, rolling over. Her tiny dress had ridden up even more and Tom had to bite down on his lower lip and clasp his hands together to prevent himself from doing just that.
“You’re making this really difficult.” Tom muttered.
“Then do something about it. I thought bad girls got spankings?” She teased him, eyeing the hardness growing within his pajama bottoms.
“Stop it, I’m trying to take care of you and you’re making it really hard.” Tom groaned.
“I can tell,” She giggled.
“For fucks sake,” Tom rolled his eyes, “I’m going to help you out of the dress, and that’s all the touching I’m going to do tonight. Then, I’m going to take off your makeup, and you’re going to go to sleep.”
“Tom,” She whined, wriggling around on the bed, “I don’t wanna. I want you to do me.”
Tom laughed, “You’re going to die in the morning, oh my gosh. You’re such a child.”
“Ugh!” She whined and flattened out onto the mattress.
Sitting down behind her on the bed, Tom rolled her over and unzipped the back of her dress. He did his best to not look, but the zipper kept getting caught in her hair, and he couldn’t ignore the soft skin of her back. He saw that she’d chosen to wear the pretty, light pink, lace bra that she’d been wearing the first time they’d had sex. Groaning over the memories, he helped her rid her body of the confining fabric of her dress and had slid his sweatshirt over her body.
She turned to lay on her back, “Will you at least kiss me?”
“Yes,” Tom placed a soft kiss on her mouth, “Do you wanna get up to go to the bathroom to take off your makeup, or do you want me to do it for you here?”
“Hmmm, here.” She sat up and stuck her hands inside of the sweatshirt, only to toss her bra off seconds later.
Tom’s eye lingered on her chest as he got up to retrieve her makeup wipes.
“I love youuuuu.” She said, hugging herself to his chest after Tom had successfully cleansed her face of all traces of makeup. “You’re my favorite, even though you refuse to fuck me.”
Tom tucked the duvet under her chin and crawled in behind her. He kissed her temple and curled an arm around her, “I love you too darling.”
He prayed to the high heavens above that she wouldn’t feel his excitement poking her in the back while she drifted off and into dreamland.

His || Jungkook || 0.18

Member: Jungkook x Reader

Type: Angst, Fluff, Smut.

Teaser | 0.1 | 0.2 | 0.3 | 0.4 | 0.5 | 0.6 | 0.7 | 0.8 | 0.9 | 0.10 | 0.11 | 0.12 | 0.13| 0.14 | 0.15 | 0.16 | 0.17 | 0.18

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Jay Park as your Boyfriend~

- Cuddling, lots of cuddling 

- He loves holding you

- He would literally treat you like a queen 

- Sugar Daddy Jay 

- Just Daddy in general 

- Fights would be very rare 

- But when you have them, he tends to say some dumb shit

- But apologizes quickly

- There’s no such thing as personal space at night 

- He would be really clingy when sick or sad 

- He may seem like a player, but you would be his absolute weak spot 

- He would take you to his concerts 

- I kinda see him as the possessive kind of person when drunk

- Buys you everything you want

- Plays with your hair, and lets you play with his

-  A LOT OF SEX

- Dances with you

- Showers with you

- He gets really jealous, even though he knows you’d never leave

- Always touching you in some way

Originally posted by jayfatuasian

Naughty Girl - Justin Foley Smut

Justin Foley x reader

Request:  Can you do smut with Justin Foley (13 reasons why) …(x reader) maybe..you didn’t fuck for a week because you have problems and he catches you masturbate and he is not happy about it so he punish you…

WARNINGS: Smut, rough, swearing


Me and Justin haven’t been talking for days. He practically pushed me off of him the other day and I’m pissed. For some reason we have been arguing more than usual. Just two days ago we argued cause Justin forgot to pick me up to go to school cause he decided to drink with his friends. It’s been leaving me frustrated. In many ways. Its Saturday night and Justin keeps calling my phone and leaving message after message.

Babe I’m sorry about the other day

Baby please pick up…

I’m sorrrrrrrry!

What do you want me to do?

I can bring strawberry ice cream for you 

Babbbbbby please answer me 

I roll my eyes and put my phone on silent. I’m more angry with him cause with all this arguing we haven’t had sex in over a week and it’s killing me. I have been wanting to slap him and fuck him at the same time and I think he knows it. There is a knock at the door and I say a small ‘come in’.

“Hey sweetheart” my mom peaks in. She’s all dolled and dressed up. I do that signature dog whistle and laugh. 

“Hey mom, where are you going looking all nice” I smile. 

“Me and your father are going out for dinner surprisingly”. I look behind her and see my dad with his thumbs up. I laugh and shake my head. I follow them downstairs as they put their jackets on.

“Okay have fun you too” I say, walking up to hug and kiss both of them.

“We will, come lock the doors behind us. And you know the rules n-”

“Yes, yes, no partying, no drinking, no smoking, no inviting strangers, no going out after 12 and call you if I invite Justin over.” I say nonchalantly.

“Good girl” she kisses my check while my dad rubs my head.

“See you kiddo, be safe.”

“I will, love you”

They both say quick ‘love yous’ and get into their car. I watch them drive off and quickly close the door and jog up the stairs back to my room. I look at my phone and see more text from a now angry Justin. I huff and turn my phone off. I lay on my bed and start thinking about where we went wrong. Just last week we were making love. Making love. I start thinking about how good it felt for him to be inside me with his hands roaming my body. I start thinking about his lips on my neck. Thinking about this started to make me feel hot down there. I continue thinking about his mouth on me and found myself creeping towards my underwear. I never thought I would do this, being that I had Justin, but obviously I don’t have him right now and I need something. I peel my underwear off and start rubbing around my heat. I keep thinking About Justin and imagine my fingers as his.

“Justin” I moan. My fingers speed up and I arch my back into myself. I grab onto my bare breast under my shirt and pinch onto my nipple feeling nothing but pleasure. I keep moaning, sliding a finger into my now wet core. I’m lost in my own world as I slide in another finger. I want Justin more, but this will have to do. I continue pumping in and out while moaning my boyfriends name. I need him so bad. I’m so wrapped up in my moans that I didn’t notice my door fly open. I jerk up and see none other than Justin. A very angry Justin. He looks mad, but his eyes look like something else. Lust.

“What the hell do you think your doing y/n” 

“I-I don’t know” I say, covering my naked body with my sheets. He walks up to the bed and yanks the sheet away from me, scamming my body up and down.

“What the hell were you doing”

“It was nothing, I just wanted to try something dif-”

“You wanted to fucking finger yourself!” he says while still looking at my body. I feel weirdly exposed in front of him, but I kind of like it. 

“We haven’t had sex in a while and I have been aggravated” I say quietly, but he doesn’t say anything. He just stared. 

It was the way he stood and looked at me. Watching my every move and staring at me with those deep eyes. And I loved it. I loved the attention he was giving me. The long needed attention. It made me feel wanted and special. It was his attitude. The way he stood leaned against my headboard with his arms crossed on his chest and lip in his mouth. 

I look away feeling queasy in my stomach. It wasn’t an uncomfortable feeling, but a feeling of excitement. I uncover my hands from my chest and fix my posture, sitting up. I bit my lip and look back at him. His eyes leaves my face and goes straight to my chest, smirking. That was all it took for him to make his way to my bed and sit down next to me.

“You like being a naughty girl don’t you?” he whispers. His voice suddenly got deeper and husky, making my lower body ache. Definitely a turn on, making me want him even more. 

“Do you like it?” I ask, biting my lip seductively as I smiled. 

“No not really” I almost frown at his response until he speaks again.

“Only I can touch you like that, and I don’t like you doing my job.” I close my eyes, trying to contain myself from jumping onto him right now. I want him badly. So badly right now. 

“Then touch me” I whisper into his ear.

“If I do, I might not be able to control myself cause I’m still angry at you for doing this” I bite my lip as I climb onto his lap and bite his ear softly before whispering.

“Then don’t”

As soon as I said it, Justin attack my lips, wrapping my legs around his torso pressing his body against mine. I moaned against his lips as I kissed him hard while his hand went in my hair and his lips moved hungrily with mine.

“Mhm.” He groaned as he pulled away slightly. Grabbing his waist, I attempt to pull down his sweats. He sits up and pulls them off. I starting bucking my bare core against him, earning grunts. I drew circles with my hips as his hands stayed firmly on my waist. I started to feel him harden under me and I smiled through the kiss. 

“Fuck this” he mumbled through the kiss. He quickly threw us over and yanked me to the edge of the bed.

“This is my job and don’t forget it”. With that he spread my legs apart with his hands on either sides of my inner thigh, spreading them as wide as he would while looking my core. He rubbed his hand back and forth and I moaned slightly while wiggling to try to feel him more. He held my body in place.

“Don’t fucking move” I bite my lip and nodded him.

“Yes baby”

I smiled at the sight of my boyfriend going down on me, his head between my thighs as he pleasured me. He rubbed his fingers again me, going up and down fast. Faster than I was. He made sure to press hard against me. I moaned and moaned even louder when he slide his long finger into me.

“God.” I moan, smiling at the sweet pleasure. I open my eyes to see him watching me as he adds another finger and curl them inside me.

“Yessss Just- my gosh!” I moan.

“What was that” he smirks. He adds a third finger and starts roughly pumping.

“JUST-” I couldn’t even speak cause of all my moans. He pulls his fingers out and kneels down further into my core. I then feel his lips touch my heat, making me grind my hips against his face for more. He starts going slow to tease me then speeds up. I wrap my legs around his neck, arching my body as he flicks his tongue harder against me. He movements started to make me whimper.

“Ha-right there, yes, fuck!” I whimper as he looks up at me while still moving his tongue. I throw my head back, not caring how loud I’m being. My small hands were in his hair, pushing on the back of his head I tensed, my eyes shutting as I moan his name again. I feel myself close, knowing I can’t hold it in.

“J-Justin, I’m ab-”

“Let it go baby.” I do as I’m told and cum while Justin licks everything up, smiling at me after. All of this just made me want Justin more than ever. 

“Justin?” I pant.

“Yes angel” he smirks.

“Fuck me.”

He throws of his underwear before grabbing a condom out his jean pocket and doesn’t give me a chance to register anything. Still at the edge of the bed, Justin grabs my hips and slams into me, making me whimper. my knees were dangling off the bed, spread apart as Justin thrust into me. I was eager for him to go harder, faster, rougher. I need all of him.

“P-please Justin harder” I moan. He doesn’t need for me to say it twice. Justin pushes himself deep into me, but doesn’t move. He just stood there, deep inside of me. the pleasure was so amazing. 

“Fuck!” I yell, my body shaking and desperate to grab something as I cling myself onto his back.

“Ju-justin” I moan, my breathing heavy. He pushes my hips back down, held them down there before he slammed into me as hard as he could, making my bed move backwards. I let out a loud whimper, my hand grabbing his.

“God! Fuck me, Justin, Harder baby!” I beg, moaning louder than ever. He held my tiny hands so tightly in his, almost crushing my fingers as he went faster, deep groans escaping his throat.

“Holy fuck!” he growled. His voice sounding so deep. He only went harder as I scratched lines into his back. I tried to scream, but I couldn’t. My whole body was shaking beneath him. 

“Fuck!” he screamed. I could hear his dick slam into me with each thrust, slamming into me as deep as it could. My back slammed into my bed each time. Tears were starting to come out my eyes as I was screaming his name. I exploded and it surprised me. Justin pulled out and looked exhausted. He slowly climbed onto the bed, pulling me onto him and could barely catch his breath. He only said one thing. 

“Baby?” he pants.

“Yes?” I ask in the same state.

“I love you, but please remember to lock the door next time”. With that we laughed and then fell right to sleep in each others arms, finally back to normal.


A/N - Sorry if this isn’t that good. I hope you guys like this one! I appreciate you guys feedback :) love you 

FIRST TIMES ੭ JUNGKOOK

Contains : drabble (?), bestfriend!jungkook, SMUT !  

Group : BTS  

Member : Jungkook/Jeon Jungkook

Words : +1,5k

Summary : Jungkook finds out you never had an orgasm before.

Originally posted by mayfifolle

A/N : Probably one of the last drabbles I’ll write before my finals. Inspired by a dream, don’t ask.
Feedback or a questions, everything is here !


“You’re lying.”, stated Jungkook, confidence dripping from his words.
He had dropped his phone on his bed, one of his legs extended to the end of the matress, the other bended against his chest. You couldn’t see him, laying on your back, facing the ceiling of his room, but you could feel his eyes on you.

Rubbing your palms against your eyes, your groaned, wishing your best friend never started this conversation.

“Jungkook, I’m not lying okay.”, you sighed, leaving the back of your hands on your forehead. “Can we stop talking about this now ?”, you whined.

The boy stayed silent for a bit, and you thought that for once, just for once, he would let go. But that’s not knowing Jeon Jungkook.

“So you don’t know what an orgasm feels like ?”, he asked and you rolled your eyes, silently cursing your best friend.

It was just a normal conversation at first, until Jungkook started talking about his exploits. Again, it wasn’t a new thing, you and your best friend were comfortable talking about sex, but only if it was his sex life, because your sex life was inexistent.
You never talked about it to Jungkook, but you thought he knew you were a virgin; apparently not.

“No.”, you answered, feeling heat rise on your cheeks, damn you just wanted to sink in the floor.

Silent filled the room again, before you felt the matress move. Crawling beside you, Jungkook layed on his stomach, supporting himself with his elbow.
His eyes were still on you, but you couldn’t dare look at him, heart beating a bit too fast, talking about such an intimate thing was strange.

“Have you ever touched yourself ?”, purred Jungkook, and something immediately changed in the air. Was he really asking you this question ? He wasn’t going to let it slide, did he ?

“Y/N.”, called the boy, but his voice was still as loud as a whisper, as if he was afraid to talk louder, afraid to break something. Maybe he was afraid to break the thin confidence you were building up, finally answering.

“Yeah.”, but again, your voice was as quiet as his.

He moved again, your eyes finally catching his own. You would laugh at his way too serious face and furrowed eyebrows if you weren’t in such a situation. He released the bottom of his lips that he was unconsciously biting, getting a little bit closer to your body.
One of his hand pressed on the matress beside you head, the sudden weight of his body making you groan.

“Jungkook, what the fuck are you doing ?”, you asked. You wanted him to hear the annoyance in your voice, but the question fell in a breath as his head dropped way to close to your own.

“Don’t you want to know how it feels like ?”, he mewled, stroking your hair.
Your breath got caught, the sudden change of attitude leaving you stunned. Your breath got heavier, swallowing again as your throat got awfully dry.

A gasp left your lips as Jungkook’s head dropped, not waiting for an answer. His lips pressing a line of kisses down your neck, his right hand stroking your side, lifting your shirt up little by little.

It felt like seeing your best friend in a new light. Strangely, you didn’t feel repulsed, quite the contrary, your skin was growing hotter and all you wanted to do was to push the boy’s head down, forcing him to kiss further down, dying to feel his fingertips linger on your skin.

Your body relaxed as he kissed the spot between your neck and shoulder, but the feeling soon disappeared, a whine leaving your lips.

“Answer me.”, rasped Jungkook. He darted his tongue out, tracing the shape of your ear, his hand finally sneaking under your shirt, his thumb drawing circles above the hem of your underwear. “Do you wanna know ?”, he whispered, his hot breath ghosting over your ear.

“Yes.”, you gasped, catching your lower lips between your teeth. You were anxious in a way, he was your best friend after all. But stangely, you couldn’t see anyone else but Jungkook on top of you.
You could feel the boy’s lips stretch in a smile against your ear, before attacking your neck again.

Your hand flew to his hair, your head thrown back, giving him more access.

“If something feels wrong, tell me and I’ll stop.”, he started, voice quiet as he looked into your eyes. And god, they were a shade darker, pupils blown wide, holding silent promises. “I want to make you feel good.”, he purred as you nodded after swallowing the built of saliva.

“Now, tell me. How do you touch yourself ?”, he husked, licking his lips.

Your throat went dry again, gasping for air. You didn’t know where that confidence came from, but you opened your mouth, carefully watching his reaction.
“I tease myself throu-”, but you couldn’t finish your phrase, a gasp leaving your lips as Jungkook pressed a finger on your clit through the thin fabric of your panties.

“Like that ?”, he cooed, a cocky smile streching his lips.
You nodded, eager to see and feel his next move. Jungkook ran his finger along your folds, feeling the wet patch starting to form. “God, you’re already wet.”, he quietly laughed, catching his lip in his teeth.
You wanted to respond, but you got cut off by a sigh leaving your mouth as Jungkook pressed his fingertip on your clit, rubbing small circles, his lips parting.

“What do you do next ?”, he breathed, eyes glued on you, your face, your body, how you reacted to his touchs.
You inhale, trying to collect yourself, “Take my panties off and start rubbing my clit.”, and you couldn’t even believe the words leaving your mouth. But the thought left your mind as the boy on top of you followed your orders, pulling the fabric to the side, the air hitting your heat, his fingertip pressing on the nub, and you immediately felt intoxicated.

He knew what he was doing, his digit moving in slow circles, applying the right amount of pressure, sending waves of pleasure through your body.
Your hips accidently bucked, Jungkook’s finger pressing harder as a moan left your lips.

“More.”, choked, lightly tugging the boy hair. He looked up, cheeks and lips rosy, before moving lower, placing a single kiss above the hem of your underwear.
He stopped his movements, a whine leaving your lips. Spreading your wetness, he added another finger, parting your folds before lightly pushing in your entrance.
Closing your eyes, his other hand grabbed your hair, tugging at it, exposing your neck as his lips started attacking your skin again.

Capturing your skin between his teeth, he softly bit on it, fully pushing his finger in. Your exhaled, trying to adjust with the new feeling. Jungkook silently waited, sucking on your neck.

“Jungkook”, you breathed, signaling him to move, and he understood, his finger pumping in and out. His name fell in a broken moan tumbling from your lips, a hiss escaping from his own, his pants starting to grow tighter.
You closed your eyes as he added another finger, deliciously stretching your walls.

“Look at me.” he growled, he movements growing faster, his thumb drawing forms on your clit.
Opening your eyes, you attempted to keep eye contact, trying not to roll your eyes as he curled his fingers. Your head moved backwards as your hips moved against his hand, the one he wasn’t using grabbing your jaw.

Hair falling in front of his eyes, he licked his lips, before crashing them on yours. A gasp left your lips, it’s not like you never kissed him, but behind every kiss was the taste of alcohol, but not in this one.
Moving against each other, your body melted against his soft lips and his touch, moaning against his mouth.

Your mind was fogged, you didn’t know were to focus, the kiss growing sloppy as he bit your bottom lip.
On the other hand, Jungkook was trying his best to stay focused on you, and not buck his hips against the matress, his bulge now clearly visible. His thumb started rubbing your clit again, a loud moan coming from your lips as you started feeling a thigh knot in your stomach, your walls tightening around his digits.

“Are you gonna cum ?”, purred Jungkook agaisnt your lips, his fingers moving faster. You could only nodd, closing your eyes as you felt your climax approach.

“Fuck, come for me.”, growled Jungkook, his own breath uneven.

A mixture of curse words and your best friend’s name left your lips, holding tightly to his hair. Your eyes watered, gasping for air, your orgasm crashed over you like a wave, and the earth stopped spinning as a last loud moan left your lips.

Chest falling and rising with every irregular breath, your tried to process everything, blinking a few times. You caught Jungkook holding his fingers in front of his mouth, before wrapping his lips around his digits, the taste of your arousal on his tongue.

Head still spinning, you detailled the boy in front of you, before finally opening your mouth.

“Do you need help with that ?”, you asked, a small smile on your face as you gestured to his bulge.