i want to lick his horns

anonymous asked:

Wet by jooyoung, taehyung

Sweet Tooth- V(Requested Smut)

Wet- Jooyoung ft. Superbee(Audio)

//who’s says a good boy can’t go bad? all he needs is a little teasing//

Originally posted by taehyungifs


Taehyung holds my hand down the street, smiling at the children that pass innocently and licking his lips at the sweet candy in their hands.

“I want something sweet, jagiya.” He whines, giving me puppy eyes.

“My earlier offer still stands.” I compromise, unwilling to bend until he gives me what I want first.

“But baby.” He drags out the y, pulling on my hand in plea. “Please.”

“No.” I smirk into my hand, struggling to not burst out as he gives me a dark look, pulling away from me to cross his arms.

I lead him down a side street to avoid the busy crosswalk, a cacophony of horns and yells as j-walkers run to get on time.

“Fine.” Taehyung growls, pinning me against the stone alley wall once we are enveloped in the shadows. “I’ll take you right here then.”

“Tae!” I scold, trying to push against him, even even though the prospect of getting naughty in public has me getting drenched.

“Come on, babe. You’ve been pouring since this morning, just let it go.”

His intense mood swings take me aback every time, how easily he can slip into his ultra dominant demeanor with just a little teasing.

“Why can’t we just go home really quick?”

“Is that what you want?” His fingers find their way under the waistband of my panties, running circles along my mound. “For me to just give you a quickie? Why not here then babe? You feel so ready for me that I don’t know if you can wait.”

A strangled sound escapes my throat, fisting the fabric as his hands skate along my clit, fingering the wet nun with nimble movements.

The stones are sharp against my back as I arch into him, relishing in the feeling is wanted all day and rolling in the excitement of getting caught, absolutely loving the feral possessive gaze he bores into me.

“Tae, ngghhh, fuck I love you.”

He gives me a smirk, completely drowning me in arousal. “You’re such a dirty girl.” He mutters, a single digit stretching my tight walls as he pushes in.

Painful friction is minimal, the wetness I’d been feeling all day from my fantasies lubricating his long index finger. I moan again, digging my nails into his strong shoulders as he pinches my clit, struggling to keep quiet so passerby don’t notice.

“Tae, I’m gonna come.” I whisper into his neck, feeling the knot tighten and knees weaken with his ministrations.

“So fast? I must’ve worked you up a little too much.”

My cum slides over his fingers as my orgasm hit me, grasping desperately onto the senses he’s feeding me. My legs falter, Taehyung pushing me harder against the wall in order to keep me up as I release in waves around him. 

I can taste blood as I sink my teeth into my lower lip, biting back all my moans and cries as his fingers work their sinful magic. Prayers and curses run rampant in my mind, compensating for my lack of vocality.

Once I begin to calm down, Taehyung pulls his hand out of its rather precarious position, watching me try and piece my senses back together. One of his long fingers goes to his lips, slipping past the flesh to taste the fantastic orgasm he’d given me.

 “Just the thing I needed.” His licks his finger, now coated in saliva instead of cum. “You were just the thing I was craving, jagiya. So sweet.”  



//literally wrote this in class, lmao//

~Admin Eggplant

Everyone in the Hyper Light Drifter Skype group was talking about the Drifters as little kids, and then this doodle happened. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Altie’s one of those kids who screams and bites everyone all the time.
Drifter’s one of those kids who is too curious for his own good and wants to lick everything.

I imagine blueskin children are total terrors with their sharp claws, teeth, and horns. They probably also chew everything to bits. Angry demon kittens…

Also, I headcanon that the Drifter’s hair was more of a lilac color before he got sick and the color faded.

Artwork by BlueBead

anonymous asked:

39) things you said when we first met. please <3

Ficlet:  “Things You Said When We First Met”

Author: @somekindofseizure

Rated: PG-13/Mature

Notes:  Turns out I’ve been creating a little universe for these Things You Said things (not on purpose till now).  So this ficlet references these other three.

Things You Said That Made Me Feel Real (Rated Gen)
Things You Said With Clenched Fists (Rated Explicit)
Things You Said Sitting Still (Rated Gen)

******

She has a towel around her head when she comes out of the bathroom.   The stubborn summer sunset lingers in the room like a kid who keeps finding excuses to stay awake.  Now it picks up the cornflower blue of her eyes, the deep blood red of her old robe, and those are good enough excuses for him.

The robe is one of the things she’s brought back to the house.  At first it was a shock to him, that she wouldn’t be doing it all at once, getting a truck one day, handing the keys over to her landlord, moving back home. Of course that’s his way, and not hers. Scully doesn’t jump in.  

He’s delighted each time he notices the additions:  her lower-watt hair dryer in the drawer, her less expensive moisturizer in the medicine cabinet, the ancient red bathrobe on the back of the door. Delighted, but terrified.  These are the expendable versions of her things, the backups, the ones she can live without.  He only has one thing he can’t live without.  There is no backup Scully.

“What’s with the towel? I thought I heard a hair dryer in there,” he says, folding his hands over his chest and crossing his feet at the ankles, a trick he’s learned to avoid tackling her to the bed.  It’s not just the bedroom that does this to him lately – the kitchen, the living room, the porch – he’s become a medium through which the house tells her it misses her.

“You did,” she says. “I just didn’t want it to be a shock.”

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So yesterday was @iliveilaughiloveiread​‘s birthday. I was hoping to get this drabble finished yesterday, but as usual I am late. Anyway, she is an absolutely lovely person who it has been a real pleasure to get to know. If you ever need a story recommendation she is the one to go to! So happy birthday sweetie, I hope you enjoy this story. 


Luck would Have It

“Dude you need to switch with me.”

“I am not switching seats with you,” Peeta harshly whispered to his friend Finnick.

He didn’t even need to ask why, because he was looking at the same thing that Finnick’s gaze was fixed on. Squeezing down the narrow, crowded aisle of the packed stadium were three very beautiful women who nobody seemed to mind moving their knees for. There were only three seats available in the their row, and they happened to be right next to Peeta, making both men feel like they were winners before the game even started.

Peeta was usually the wingman, letting his charming friend do all the work, but not this time, he would not budge. There was one girl in particular he couldn’t take his eyes off as she shimmied past blocking knees, her long braid swinging like a pendulum behind her slim back.

“Which girl are you looking at? The busty blonde, or the wild chick in the tiny clothes?” His friend nudged him, almost knocking over his beer.

“Neither of them, just keep it in your pants okay Finnick, we are here for the hockey game, not to pick up girls.” So maybe he wasn’t telling his friend the total truth.

“You can’t be talking about the little angry one with the braid?” His friend practically snorted. “Sure she’s hot, but that scowl on her face says you ain’t getting anywhere.” Finnick was so amused at his own humor he forgot to even argue about switching with Peeta, snorting as he took a sip of his beer.

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More than Friends?

Originally posted by insaneontheboeshane

FANDOM: Marvel
CHARACTER: Steve Rogers/Captain America, Reader
RATING: T
WORD COUNT: 2,500 ( from the bottom of my heart, my bad )

SUMMARY: Tony is, for once, not a cockblock.


Standing in the elevator on your way to the downstairs kitchen of Stark Tower, you realized something.

Sharon Carter was perfect.  

Her blonde hair was always perfectly curled, collared shirt perfectly ironed and buttoned, voice always perfectly level and flirty and everything that yours wasn’t.  Even worse, it was so, so goddamn hard to hate her; you’d never seen her act unkindly or lose her temper.  

And the way Steve looked at her, eyes alight and smiling slightly, leaning in whenever she spoke.  Whenever she make a joke, he’d laugh like she’d said the funniest thing he’d ever heard.  

Did Steve ever look at you, his best friend, like that?

You wondered what it would be like to have Steve be interested in you in that sort of way, but that was impossible.  Sharon was a crack-shot with a handgun and could take down 2 trained fighters at once.  You worked with Tony in tech and maybe could type 170 words per minute on a good day.  Yes, you and Steve had history, but Carter was a knockout.  To compare you to Sharon would be like comparing a vulture to a swan.  

“Hey, Y/N, do you want us to pick anything up for you?” asks a feminine voice. 

Speak of the devil.

Sharon and Steve stepped into the elevator with you, smiles on their faces as if they’d been having the most wonderful conversation together.  

“Oh,” you start, blinking.  “No, I’m alright, thanks.”

“You sure?” asks Steve furrowing his brows.  “It wouldn’t be any trouble at all.  You’ve gotta be sick of Tony’s food.”

“I’ll survive,” you reply all-too-cheerfully.  Your running shorts and t-shirt and unbrushed hair contrast sharply with Sharon’s pristine white collared shirt and heels.  “I don’t think he’s contaminated the eggs, yet,” you grin.  

Steve and Sharon laugh, remembering the time Stark experimented on the contents of the fridge, then forgot which foods he’d messed with.  Steve looks great, as usual, dressed casually in jeans and a gray hoodie.  You’ve worn that hoodie before, watching movies in your room with him and catching him up on all the important aspects of pop culture, notably Star Wars.

“Good thing we have you to keep him in line,” chuckles Steve.  “This place would be a mess without you.”

The elevator doors chime open at the bottom floor, and the three of you get out. 

“I’ll grab you an omlette,” calls Steve, waving over his shoulder at you.  You smile, shaking your head as you wave back, then turn towards the entrance to the kitchen.

The two of them can be perfect together, you thought miserably, shuffling towards the stainless steel fridge.  The image of Steve accompanying Sharon out the doors of Stark Tower to grab lunch together was ingrained in your memory as you closed the refrigerator door slightly harder than you intended.  

“You want me to pull that stick out of your ass?” calls Tony, leaning his hand on a kitchen countertop and taking a sip from a mug of coffee with the words, “I AM IRON MAN” plastered on the front.  

“So helpful,” you snarked, drinking straight out of the bottle of juice.  

“We aren’t Cro-magnons here,” chides your boss, grinning exaggeratedly as he opens a cabinet and hands you a glass.  “Actually, maybe you are.  I can’t tell just from looking at you.”

You shoot him a look and pour the orange juice into the cup, putting the jug back into the fridge, then sullenly take a drink.  

“What’s your beef?  What’s the problem?  The issue?” fires off Tony, speaking rapidly.  

“I haven’t eaten breakfast,” you lie.  “I’m heading out right now.”

“You wouldn’t rather help me design my next suit?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.  “It’s for an important person.”

You roll your eyes and take another swig of juice.  Tony immediately catches your drift.  

“No, not me, even though I am important.  Whaddya say?”

“Sure,” you respond glumly.  Even Tony has a special someone.  

“There we go,” he grins, clapping an arm around your shoulders and steering you out of the room towards the elevator.  “I tend to have a positive emotional effect on people.”

“Uh-huh,” you reply, flashing him a quick smile to reassure him that everything’s nothing’s wrong.  

You can’t quite focus on what Tony’s saying as you wait to get to his workshop’s floor.  Steve and Sharon sitting next to each other at team bonding nights.  Steve and Sharon laughing together.  Steve proposing to Sharon.  Steve and Sharon’s wedding invitation in your hands.  Steve and Sharon at the altar.  Y/N with 40 cats.

“And here she is,” crows Tony, gesturing widely to a replica of his own suit.  

“Wait, why does this need design advice?”

“Because, Y/N, it’s for a female, and given that I have a dick, importantly, a big di-”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” you groan, trying not to smile as you slap a hand over your face.  “Female aesthetic advice.  Got it.  Pepper?”

“Think intelligent, funny, and in control.“

“Got it.  Let’s go.”


After a few of hours, you volunteer to grab a couple of drinks for you and Tony.  Working with the suits is exhausting both physically and mentally, and you always end up sweaty.  

You head down twenty or so floors to the kitchen, grabbing a couple of lemonades and a bag of skittles.  (”No, Tony, you can’t have beer at three in the afternoon.”)

Waiting in the elevator on the way back up, you check your phone.  

TONY: Hurry, I have a surprise for you ;)

Y/N: you didn’t

Y/N: the suit??

TONY: ;)

Y/N: 2 min

A smile creeps over your face as you stride out of the elevator, down the hall, and into the workshop, beaming as you see – Sharon in the suit?

She’s laughing as the face mask peels back, Steve and Tony grinning admiringly up at her.  

“It fits perfectly!” she bubbles, teeth pearly white as she laughs.  

“Stark Tech.  I designed it to fit any wearer.  Female, wearer,” he adds.  

Steve turns around, face lighting up as he sees you.  

“Y/N!  I ended up grabbing you an omelette,” he blushes, briefly averting his eyes.  

“Oh,” you breathe, trying to hold yourself together as you take the white takeout box from his hands.  Ignoring the fact that his fingers linger on your own until you pull the box into your chest, you plaster a wide smile on your face and change your voice to sound peppier.  “Thanks, Steve.”

His smile fades a bit, but he still looks happy.  

“Y/N, you’re a genius!” calls Sharon, waving mechanically at you from inside of the suit you had been designing only fifteen minutes ago.  The two of them must have come up while you were in the kitchen grabbing snacks.  “This is amazing!”  

“It was all Tony,” you reply, smiling politely.  “I just tweaked the exterior.”

“It looks great,” adds Steve, gazing at the machine admiringly.  “Would you mind if I drew it?” he asks, cheeks tinging a slight pink.  Sharon looks at you excitedly.  

“Yeah, go right ahead.”  You notice Tony hasn’t said a word, and instead has been watching you curiously for the past five minutes. “I’ve gotta take a call,” you lie.  “Sharon, the suit looks great on you,” you add, putting on a smile as your voice cracks slightly on the last word.  

Tony opens his mouth, but before he can say anything, you’re out the door and watching the elevator doors close from the inside as you press the button for the ground floor.

You start walking towards Central Park; it takes you a little over twenty minutes to get there after you almost get hit by an errant driver.  On the way, you realize you’re still clutching the omelette box, so you plop tiredly down onto a bench and open the lid.  

Despite the shitty mood you’re in, the food is admittedly delicious.  Steve had somehow remembered you liked tomatoes and bell peppers and extra cheese, and made sure to include it in your meal.  

Throwing the box into the trashcan next to you, you lean back into the bench and take a deep breath.  Someone sits down next to you, so you keep your eyes trained on the busy street about fifty feet in front of you.  A jogger runs by, then a tall man in a tux, then a family of four.  Tourists, probably.  Yellow cabs weave between sports cars and the occasional bicyclist, the sounds of horns honking and the chatter of pedestrians filling the air with noise.  

“Are you okay?”  You turn, startled, to your left to look at the person who’d sat down next to you only five minutes ago.  

“Steve?  What are you doing here?”

“You seemed flustered when you left,” he replies sheepishly.  “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Just a long day,” you sigh, trying to smile.  “I was going to head back anyway.”

Steve licks his lips like he’s nervous, leaning against the backrest of the bench.  The smell of musky cologne and chocolate is intoxicating, and you can’t believe you hadn’t noticed it before.  Before, only 21 days ago, when you were closer than this.

“Do you want to talk about it?  It’d stay between us,” he adds, blue eyes hopeful.  

God damn it, Rogers, I can never say no to you.

“You’d do that for me?”

“Absolutely,” he grins, watching you turn to face him and move your feet onto the bench with your arms around your knees.  

“There’s been so much to do lately with Pietro being back and Tony making more suits.  And I found out a few weeks ago that the guy I like is interested in someone else.”  

You glance up at him from your shoes to see that his smile has fallen.  

“For who?”  Pressing your lips gently together, you look back at the busy street and the people milling around.  

You brainstorm adjectives to describe Sharon in a subtle and not-rude way.  

“She’s gorgeous and smart, for starters.  I’ve met maybe four guys who weren’t attracted to her, and to top it all off, she’s a complete badass.”

“She sounds like someone I know,” Steve responds, voice trailing off at the end.  

Motherfucking shithead on a stick. He knows.  He knows I like him.  Time to move to fucking Antarctica and die with the goddamn penguins.

Any guy would be blind to pass you over,” Steve says quietly and firmly, eyes meeting yours.  “I don’t know why he would choose her.”

“Me neither,” you sigh in relief.  Your phone pings from your pocket, revealing a text from Tony.  

TONY: as much as i like to watch you leave, I’d rather see your pretty face in your new suit in t-minus ten minutes.  

“I’ve gotta head back,” you apologize, standing up.  “Duty calls.”  

Steve walks with you back to the Tower, and the two of you catch up.  It feels good to have Steve back, to have your best friend back after three weeks of Sharon-induced separation.  

As you walk down the hall towards the entrance to the workshop, he pauses and turns to face you.  

“Y/N, I know for the past few weeks, I haven’t had the chance to spend as much time with you as I wanted.”  He swallows, eyes meeting yours again.  “If you ever want to talk, I’d honestly love to listen.”

You can’t help but smile, this time genuinely.  Steve’s one of the kindest, most considerable people you’ve ever met, and he’s leaning in and you legitimately just might kiss him-

“Y/N!  You’re back!”  

Sharon and Tony are suddenly in the hallway with you and Steve, Tony wrapping his arm around your shoulders and steering you into the workshop, the door whirring shut behind you.  

“You have a thing for Capsicle.”  You shoot him a look, feeling a blush creep up your neck.  “Tell him.”

“No.”

Tony rolls his eyes and groans exasperatedly, leaning back against his worktable.  

“He and Sharon aren’t an item.  Steve’s a free man, Y/N, and I’m telling you, you have a chance.”

“Tony, shut up,” you respond sharply, ducking your head as your throat tightens.  “That’s not funny.”

He reaches out and grips your shoulder, using a finger to lift your chin.  

“I swear to God, any guy would be lucky to have you.  You’re the whole package, honey, and he knows it.”  You blink to keep back tears, staring at the ground and feeling like a piece of shit.  

“Y/N,” soothes Tony, uncharacteristically softly.  “I don’t make promises, but I can promise you that Steve has liked you since the moment he started talking to you.”

You pull him into a hug, tucking your face into Tony’s chest as he slowly wraps his arms around you.  

“Now that I’ve used up my kindness and purity for the day, I’m gonna tell you to go get him.”

You laugh, slowly at first.  

“Pure?”  He shrugs, a lopsided grin on his face.  

“I regrow my virginity every night.”  

“God damn it, Tony,” you snort, running a finger quickly across both of your eyes.  “I’ll talk to him after dinner.”


Dinner comes and goes all too quickly.  Sharon leaves shortly beforehand, leaving you, Tony, Steve, Clint, Nat, and Bruce to yourselves.  

You decide to go to your room to avoid talking to Steve, stepping inside the elevator and taking a deep breath as the doors start to close.  

“Y/N?”  Steve steps through the double doors, pausing in front of you as they close behind him.  He’s standing in front of the directory panel, so you can’t press the button to your floor.  

“I wanted to tell you that you might have the wrong idea about me and Sharon.”

“Oh,” you reply.  “I-That’s-Alright.”

“She’s beautiful and smart, and she’s a complete ‘badass’, like you said,” he says, and you feel your heart start to sink. 

You’re had one of the shittiest days of your life, and your best friend, the guy you’re half in love with, is telling you about the great qualities of Sharon Carter, secret agent extraordinaire.  

“But we’re just friends, and I didn’t want you to think we were partners.” 

Reaching around him, you press the button for your floor and feel the elevator start to rise.  

“Y/N-”

“Steve, please, stop,” you whisper, not trusting yourself to speak loudly or look him in the eye without crying.  “I think it’s really great you get along with Sharon.”

At this point, Steve looks like a kicked puppy, and his hand has moved into yours.  

“No, Y/N, I wasn’t trying to make you upset,” he murmurs apologetically.  “I wanted to ask you out on a date.  For coffee.” Your best friend rambles on.  “I think you’re the most beautiful and smart woman I’ve ever met, and I know we haven’t spent as much time together as I wanted, so I was going to ask you if you wanted to be something more-”

Reaching up to cup his face, you kiss him, feeling him lean into you and wrap his arms around your waist until you pull back for air.  

“I-I had a speech planned out,” he smiles, sheepishly pulling a folded piece of paper out of his pocket.  

“Why don’t you read it to me tomorrow over coffee?” you grin, spirits soaring.  

“I’d like that,” he smiles, holding your hand and walking you out of the elevator to your room.  


EPILOGUE:

Tony grins smugly at the dining table as he watches the video feed from the security camera in the elevator.  Everyone else is crowded around him, smiling from ear to ear.  

The door behind them swings open, banging against the wall to reveal a breathless Pietro.

“What are you looking at?  What did I miss?”  

The Sokovian dodges the shoe that Clint throws at his head, zipping forward to look at Y/N and Steve pressed tightly against one another on the screen.  

“Oh.  I did not see that coming.”

5sos Kissing Visuals Preferences

Ashton: He wouldn’t care who is around you, he would just want to kiss his girl. He would like being the one who pulled you in to show everyone who has the power, and he would love that.

in private he would be very loving and passionate you would both be showing each other how hungry you are for one another. people who think your loved up when you’re out and about well they should see you when you’re out of the public eye, can’t keep hands off. truly in love.

Calum: Love sick puppy Cal. Every time you would kiss it would be music to his heart, making it beat so much more faster. To show that you both love each other, you wouldn’t even need to say the three words of how much you love each other because you would both already know by how you act.

 

Alone time with Calum is always going to dangerous because well, he would be at it all the time not having enough of you licking and biting your neck lightly that would be his way of telling you he wants to make sweet, hot sex to you. Cute little horny cal.

Luke: You and Luke would be the coupe we all see around and are jealous of, you would be so loved up kissing out in the public eye wouldn’t be your thing but little nose rubs while saying ‘i love you’ while squeezing eachothers hands.

Home alone Luke he would always be up for make outs, people think oh sweet little Lucas. no. behind closed door he is a massive  horn dog, biting hard on your bottom lip while mumbling 'say it. tell me how much you love me’

Michael: You and Michael would not be scared to show your love for each other but in the public eye it would be a fun game, you will be joking around all the time your kisses not taking seriously lots of licking of faces and just annoying each by not kissing back just standing there waiting for the another one flip them off.

At home you two would be unbreakable. people think you would be 'at it’ all the time, well you will but not 'all’ the time you will have days where he would ask you just lie down and cuddle with him while he answers all fans tweets or he would call you from your bedroom calling you down to the front room just asking for a kiss as he paused his game and wanted you to kiss him. which you would love.

When Dorian opens his door the week after a late night shopping binge, his entire brain goes offline and all he can think about is how badly he wants to lick the muscular thighs and bite the thick neck and grab the horns and just *ride that face until the sun goes down*.

He has to shake himself when the delivery man waves his hand in front of his face.

“You spaced out there,” he says. His voice is deep and rough and Dorian can feel it in his *bones*. “I need you signature.”

“My what?” He blinks, looks down at the hands—so big—and the stylus and pad for signing. Blinks again. Flushes. “Oh. Right. Sorry. Didn’t sleep well. I’m a little out of it. You understand.”

Their fingers brush as Dorian takes the pad and stylus. The skin is rough and warm and Dorian is dying of want or embarrassment or both.

The Qunari chuckles, a friendly rumble that makes Dorian’s skin tingle. “I do, yeah. Sorry to hear it, though.” He trades Dorian his package after he signs, beams at him, then tosses a wink when he says, “Go back to bed.”

Dorian stares after him for a moment too long, mouth hanging open, mind racing with possibility, before he steps quickly back into his home and firmly shuts the door. Locks it. He’d been waiting for this package all week. It can wait a while longer.