ho's lips

So I tried Elf lip exfoliator and it definitely lived up to the hype!! It’s only 3 dollars and it works like magic. You just gotta wet your lips, and rub the exfoliator in circles on your lips (I pulled mine tight over my teeth to get it better), and then wipe the exfoliator off with like a washcloth and your lips are soft as a baby’s bottom! It’s probably a good idea to put in Vaseline or whatever you use to moisturizer your lips (I live for Vaseline tbh) to lock in moisture and you’re set!! I love that it doesn’t get all over my face like other exfoliators. It’s not messy at all and it works like a charm, plus it’s in like a regular lipstick tube so it’s good for on the go as well!

Santa’s Lap

You’re welcome @asirenscalling @thenightmarebeforebucky @thatawkwardtinyperson @lady-thor-foster @sammyissassy

Word Count: 1169 
Pairings: Bucky x Reader 
Warnings: Christmas, Dirty Santa, Sexy Husband, Smut, Smutty Smut Smut!

Originally posted by theunofficialsebstan

Originally posted by daisydae

“C’mon, baby! Time to sit on Santa’s lap!” You exclaimed, pulling your four year old son along. The mall’s Santa looked extremely realistic this year and your son lit up like a Christmas tree. 

“Santa!” He babbled over and over again, making grabby hands toward the man’s face. Bucky chuckled deeply behind you. 

You grinned and nodded, “Gotta be nice, okay? You can’t pull Santa’s beard like you do your daddy’s.” 

Santa was quick to pull your son onto his lap before he could run away. When he looked up at you, his mouth seemed to drop slightly. He cleared his throat, and in a low tone he asked, “Would Mommy like to sit on my other leg?” 

Your brows furrowed.

Keep reading

Mi sono innamorata di te quando la prima volta mi hai sorriso, quando ancora non sapevo il tuo nome, quando ancora non sapevo associare una voce al tuo viso.
Mi sono innamorata di te quando la prima volta mi hai stretta a te, proprio quando ne avevo più bisogno, proprio quando non ti volevo accanto.
Mi sono innamorata di te quando la prima volta ho capito che nessuno al mondo è come te, perché nulla ha senso senza di te.
Mi sono innamorata di te quando la prima volta mi hai detto ti amo e le tue labbra hanno toccato le mie, quando tu mi chiedevi di restare, quando io volevo restare.
Mi sono innamorata di te ogni singolo giorno da quando sei andato via, perché ogni cosa con te ha senso, perché con te vale la pena lottare.
—  Now-imbroken

kaitrionabalfe  asked:

I'm in dire need of a fluffy scene where Claire tries to read the lines on Jamie's palm and she ends up failing miserably.

Liv says: So this isn’t fluff, so to speak—but I hope it’s still fun! Set about 2-3 years before puir Frank the Mailman died in the Three Witches AU. No worries if you haven’t read it. This one stands alone! :)


Intersection: A Three Witches Story

Claire knew this was against coven rules. Like, totally outside the realm of acceptable witch behavior.

To dole out one’s magical talents—particularly at the county fair—was a bit manipulative (in regards to the customers), a bit sad (in regards to Claire). Still, she liked to think she was working for a kind of greater good. Ensuring the happiness of all mankind! And that was almost admirable, wasn’t it? Giving hopeful glimmers of adulthood to the stork-like teenagers, comforting the mopey singletons who trudged around, heads bent? She’d offered such assurances as:

“A new man will come into your life. A handsome one—with a huge prick! His name…I think his name begins with a ‘T’.” (This to the recent divorcee, clutching her naked ring finger like a burn. She hadn’t known what a “prick” was but was no less forthcoming with her money.)

Or this, to the bucktoothed 16-year old picking at his acne scars: “You’ll be the coolest person in college. Captain of the ultimate frisbee team!” He’d been disappointed at that one, enormous chompers clamping over his bottom lip. “Ho ho ho there, young man!” she’d said then. “Ultimate frisbee is cool where you’re going. The coolest cool.” And then he’d smiled, a patchwork of teeth and holes, which Claire hoped someone might find endearing. A nice and wholesome blind girl, maybe.

And then this, to the both of them: “For just $5 more, I can guarantee it! All you have to do is buy this magical rock and carry it with you wherever you go.” Nevermind that said magical rock was actually from Claire’s backyard. Nevermind that several of them were speckled in bird shit. Maybe some cicada guts.

But that was the thing about desperate Mortals. Metaphorically speaking, their whole lives were a succession of bird shit plops and smeared bug guts. So they didn’t even notice when it was covering their $5, not-magical rock.

“Yes please! I’ll take two!” the divorcee had cried, handing Claire a ten dollar bill. (Did she think this would bring two men into her life? Because that’s not how Claire’s bird shit rocks worked.)

“Um. Yeah. That’s sounds pretty sick,” said Beaver Bobby. “I’ll buy a rock.” He’d paid in all quarters but, hey, beggars can’t be choosers.

If her best friend Gillian were here, she would likely call this “an exploitative farce,” two terms she would’ve picked up from her beloved Word of the Day calendar.

Claire,” she would hiss, “this is such an exploitative (Wednesday’s word) farce (last Friday’s word).” And then she’d pull out her Moleskin, update her word count with a self-satisfied tick. Her record, she claimed, was sixty words in a single morning, and Claire imagined a horrible plague descending upon their town, zombifying everyone until they could only grunt “verisimilitude.” Gillian thought an expanded vocabulary made her smarter but, really, it just increased her smart-assedness to a barely tolerable level.

Luckily, Gillian wasn’t here to offer one of her impressive synonyms because she’d bailed on their plans. If Claire could place money on it—and she couldn’t, with only $7 to her name, the very reason for this “manipulative/sad/exploitative farce”—Gillian was protesting GMO’s one county over. Perhaps arguing for the rights of beluga whales. Or, and this was the most likely, she was loitering at the Creamy Whip, breasts thrust at a very specific angle so that customers’ cones would find their shirts and not their mouths.

Psh! Now if that wasn’t an “exploitative farce” then Claire didn’t know what was. Gillian had mosquito bite boobs and a push-up bra more magical than her own powers.

But here was the thing: Claire wasn’t completely faking it. She wasn’t, so to speak, wearing a bra with three inches of padding. She could read palms, see futures unfurl, weblike, across strangers’ skins. Forks, divots, complex branches—each had such a distinct voice, that Claire had no doubt as to whether or not, say, Mr. Duncan over there would choke on a hot dog and die very suddenly. Or whether young Malva—that girl with the cotton candy and ruffled socks—would pop out a kid by the time she was 17. Claire, being a witch, knew precisely what would befall her clients by simply looking at their hands.

But of course, teenage pregnancy and death by synthetic meat logs weren’t exactly good for customer satisfaction. And so Claire would read Mr. Duncan’s palm, and she would see Mr. Duncan’s red face, gasping on a particularly troublesome bit of hot dog, but say he’d live until he was 85. A little white lie for a happy client. And a happy client meant A) money, B) a potential second visit, and thus C) more money. The $5 rocks weren’t scams, just for-profit business cards.

So she was lying, but not, y’know, totally lying. She’d deal with the prevention of hot dog-induced deaths later, when it better benefitted her monthly budget. (Because just as she wasn’t a complete liar, she wasn’t a complete asshole either.)

The fair had died down to a trickling of stragglers: mostly drunks, a couple of junkies who’d staggered into Nayawenne County for cheap-rate smack. Sighing, Claire stood to begin packing up, turned off the moody sound effects, gathered Gillian’s stack of Tarot cards (all hand-painted variations of herself: man Gillian; tree Gillian; Gillian with bigger-than-mosquito-bite boobs).

In the five hours since Claire had arrived, she’d made $120. Not a terrible turnout if one compared it to last year’s fair, when an angry swarm of Bible-thumpers had tossed her earnings into the funnel cake fryer. Sally Bain—or, as Claire called her, Sally Bane-of-Her-Existence—had rallied her troop of Jesus warriors and thrust crucifixes into Claire’s face, chanting things like, “Begone Satan!” and “This is God’s land!”

Which was kind of funny when you thought about it. If God wanted to claim ownership of Nayawenne—out of every other place in the universe—then he was pretty damn stupid.

Fortunately, Claire had suffered no further Bible-thumping, crucifix-wielding disturbances. Sally Bane-of-Her-Existence had fled town once she’d discovered her husband had fucked the organ player up in the ass. And in the church rectory, no less. (Such irony! Claire’d had absolutely nothing to do with it. Ha.)

It had been a windy afternoon, and Claire’s crystal ball was now coated in a fine layer of dust. Though it was only for decorative purposes—for customer satisfaction!—Claire decided she ought to give it a nice shine, make it look at least halfway capable of revealing visions of tomorrow.

Witch Tip #1: Unbeknownst to Mortals, crystal balls were like kisses from a true love. Which was to say, not powerful in the slightest. The most a kiss could do was give you mouth herpes. And, at its highest power, a crystal ball would fly across a room, break a window and the pinky toe of an irritating significant other. Not that Claire had experience with either situation. Certainly not the mouth herpes.

Claire ripped off a paper towel and went to grab the Windex, only to realize she’d left the Windex at home. Had, by a stroke of poor planning, only brought the herbal tonic she sometimes had to spritz into her eyes when they got a bit cloudy.

Witch Tip #2: Seeing the future had its drawbacks. Your eyes would get all crusty if you did it too much. As if your body was punishing you with goopy morning blindness. Honestly, it was pretty gross.

Well shit, Claire thought. She spat on her hand and rubbed the ball, hoping the couple beside “Whack-A-Democrat” wouldn’t think she was, like, doing something sexual to an inanimate object.

But whatever the couple thought, they were watching her, whispering behind their hands and giving her darting glances. Oh God, Claire thought, Bible-thumper radar blaring. Did Sally Bain send them? Did she organize a sabotage via prayer? Was it possible to raise an army of vengeful Baptists an entire state away? (Claire wouldn’t be surprised. She’d heard of stranger things. Done some of them herself. See also: anally-fucked organ player before he was anally fucked.)  

But no, the couple wasn’t looking at Claire with the fury of God in their eyes—but fascination. The woman, a petite but sturdy thing, was shoving her partner in Claire’s direction. Making a not-so-obvious pointing gesture, like, Her. Her! that he seemed somewhat reluctant to obey. Still, he did, and soon he was striding towards Claire, long legs stomping up clouds of dirt dust, red hair matching the synthetic blood of a “whacked” Bill Clinton.

“Are you…” the man began, looking nervously over his shoulder. The woman pursed her lips, arched her brow like, Do it, you pussy. He shoved his hands in his pockets, defeated. “Are ye done for the day, lass?”

“I was just about to pack up, but I’ve time for another reading if you’re interested.”

“Aye…” he said, completely unconvincing. “Aye, I suppose I’m interested.”

“Well then, take a seat, Mr…?”

“Fraser. Jamie.”

Keep reading

Facial hair has started happening, I repeat: Facial hair has started happening

Jeremy Gilbert: Pillow fight got steamy

Word count: 987

Warning: Making out

REQUESTED: I know i said it’ll be out in a few days and it’s almost a week so I’m sorry for the delay, but i hope you enjoy it.

Jeremy Gilbert: Pillow fight got steamy

“Are we alone here?” You asked Jeremy as he led you upstairs.

“Yeah, Elena is spending the night with Damon.” Jeremy told you and you nodded. Once you walked in his bedroom you throw yourself on the bed and sighed happily. Jeremy laughed at you and you smiled.

“It feel nice to not have to deal with the supernatural for a day.” You looked at the ceiling above you.

“It does, feel nice.” Jeremy said and sat on the chair in front of his disk. “What do you want to do?”

“Let’s watch a movie.” You sat on the bed and looked at him for his opinion.

“What do you want to watch?”

“How about… the vow?” You asked him with your best bleeding look.

“Fine, just don’t look at me like that.” Jeremy chuckled.

“YES!” You jumped off the bed gave Jeremy a quick kiss on the lips and ran downstairs. “I’ll get the popcorn and snacks.”

“I’ll get the movie then.”

In a few minutes the Movie, snakes, popcorn and everything else was ready. You both sat on the couch with you snuggling into Jeremy.

“Channing Tatum looks so good.” You unconsciously said what was on your mind, and when you realized what you said you laughed.

“Really now?” Jer looked at you amused with a tint of jealousy. You got an evil idea to annoy Jeremy.

“Yes, did you even see Magic Mike? So HOT!” You told him and he looked even more jealous.

“I think I look better.” Jer told you and you playfully rolled your eyes. “Oh, you think he looks better.”

“Maybe.” You mumbled, and sat straight.

“Oh it’s on.” Just as Jeremey said that you scrambled to your feet screamed while you ran up the stairs.

“Jer, Please stop.” You yelled and quickly ran into Jer’s bedroom, and looked for something to use as a weapon. You found nothing so you took his pillow and held it, just as Jeremy ran into the room.

“A pillow? What will the pillow do?”  Jeremy asked and held a mischievous look in his eyes. “I guess it’s on.”

Jer held a pillow of his own, you screamed as Jeremy took a swing at you. You ducked down just in time.

“Those lessons you’ve been giving me, finally came to use.” You said and hit him in the face with the pillow.

You continued to hit each other while laughing. Jeremy was clearly wining when you pushed him with your hands onto the bed and hit him several times when suddenly he took the pillow from your hand and throw it away, you pouted.

“Come on.” You said before your eyes widen when Jeremy pulled you to the bed so you fell on top of him. But this didn’t last long as he moved so you were under him and you knew what was coming.

“Jer, no. Jeremy please-“ You were cut off by your own laughter as Jeremy started to tickle you. You moved around trying to get out of his hold. “Je-ermyyy, plea-aseee st-oop!”

“Say I’m better-looking than Channing Tatum, and I’ll stop.” Jeremy said in his most serious voice, but you could see his happiness in his eyes.

“N-no.” You shook your head and laughed, your stomach started to hurt and tears rolled down your face.

“Say it.” Jeremy insisted not stopping once even though you were moving around and almost kicked him a few times.

“O-okay, You-u’re b-bette-rr looking th-than Cha-channing T-Tatum.” Jeremy suddenly stopped and you breathed heavily. “Oh god.”

“I hope you learnt your lesson.” Jeremy said waving his finder around as if to scold you.

“Jeremy you are the most handsome man I have ever seen.” You breathed and looked into his chocolate eyes. “And I love you beyond anything or anyone I’ve ever loved.”

Jeremy smiled at your words. “And I love you (y/n), and I’ll protect you from this town’s problems I swear it.”

You suddenly took notice of how close he is to you, and your breath started to get uneven again. You could tell Jer knew what you were thinking but wanted you to make the first move just for the fun of it, you looked from his eyes to his lips a few times when you couldn’t hold back anymore, you leaned up and your lips touched. At first it was slow and full of passion. You ran your hands up his chest and around his neck to his hair, you gripped it lightly and pulled him even close. Jeremy moaned and you smiled into the kiss. You pulled back just enough for you to take a breath before Jeremy leaned in and hos soft lips crashed into yours, this time the kiss went faster and it send shocks through your body, you moaned from the urgency of the kiss.

You titled your head and opened your mouth just enough for Jeremy to slip his tongue in your mouth and you fought for dominance but he won, and explored your mouth.  

Jer moved his hands down your sides and to your butt. You moaned and moved your hand to Jer’s shirt and tugged on it he pulled back and you took off his shirt and throw it away, before connecting your lips again. You pulled back after a while to breathe while Jer moved his head to the side of your neck, he sucked and kissed when you heard a gasp and you pulled away and looked at the door to see both Elena and Damon.

“Okay we’re sorry we’ll go.” Elena rushed and Damon winked to Jeremy and he was hot on Elena’s heels. I burst out laughing.

“That went well.” you commented and looked to Jeremy to see him blushing. “Oh don’t blush it happens.”

“And it had to be with us.” Jeremy said and got off you. “Let’s continue our movie night.”

“Let’s.”

anonymous asked:

what are your favorite facial features of jjp? ^^

Ooh this is a fun question!! To start off, I really really love jinyoung’s lips and eye wrinkles!! (LMAO I KNOW IM A BASIC JINYOUNG HO SORRY)

like his lips are so soft and pink and plump????? 

 

Originally posted by umma-jy

External image


Originally posted by kittenyeong

And for jaebum, I am in LOVEEE with his eyes!! For me personally I like guys with sharp, cat-like eyes and jaebum’s eyes are soooo sultry and cat like and just HFSDFDHKSJ (im sounding like a pervert i’ll stop here)

anyways looOOOOKKK

Originally posted by got7scxnarios4u

Originally posted by got7kings