i was just about to fall asleep and then this thought invaded my mind

female writers + beautiful quotes (based on their actual sign)

*IN HONOR OF INTERNATIONAL WOMEN’S DAY*

ARIES: Maya Angelou (Pisces Mercury in the 8th House)

“You may shoot me with your words, you may cut me with your eyes, you may kill me with your hatefulness, but still, like air, I’ll rise!”

TAURUS: Charlotte Brontë (Aries Mercury in the 8th House)

“I do not think, sir, you have any right to command me, merely because you are older than I, or because you have seen more of the world than I have; your claim to superiority depends on the use you have made of your time and experience.”

GEMINI: Gwendolyn Brooks (Taurus Mercury in the 9th House)

“It is lonesome, yes. For we are the last of the loud. Nevertheless, live. Conduct your blooming in the noise and whip of the whirlwind.”

CANCER: Anna Akhmatova (Gemini Mercury)

“The whole time I was hoping my silence would fit yours and exclamation marks would gently float across time and space so that boundaries would be crossed; the whole time I was praying you would read my eyes and understand what I was never able to understand. See, we were never about butterflies. We’ve always been about burning stars. All about us is unearthly and radiant.”

LEO: J.K. Rowling (Virgo Mercury in the 7th House)

“The mind is not a book, to be opened at will and examined at leisure. Thoughts are not etched on the inside of skulls, to be perused by an invader. The mind is a complex and many-layered thing.”

VIRGO: Dorothy Parker (Leo Mercury in the 4th House)

“If I didn’t care for fun and such, I’d probably amount to much. But I shall stay the way I am, because I do not give a damn.”

LIBRA: Marina Tsvetaeva (Libra Mercury)

“I want to sleep with you, fall asleep and sleep. That magnificent folk word, how deep, how true, how unequivocal, how exactly what it says. Just – sleep. And nothing more. No, another thing: and know right into the deepest sleep that it is you. And more: how your heart sounds. And – kiss your heart.”

SCORPIO: Anne Sexton (Libra Mercury)

“Give me your skin as sheer as a cobweb. Let me open it up and listen in and scoop out the dark.”

SAGITTARIUS: Jane Austen (Sagittarius Mercury in the 3rd House)

“I hate to hear you talk about all women as if they were fine ladies instead of rational creatures. None of us want to be in calm waters all our lives.”

CAPRICORN: Simone de Beauvoir (Capricorn Mercury in the 2nd House)

“I am awfully greedy; I want everything from life. I want to be a woman and to be a man, to have many friends and to have loneliness, to work much and write good books, to travel and enjoy myself, to be selfish and to be unselfish… You see, it is difficult to get all which I want. And then when I do not succeed I get mad with anger.”

AQUARIUS: Virginia Woolf (Aquarius Mercury in the 10th House)

“Better was it to go unknown and leave behind you an arch, then to burn like a meteor and leave no dust.” 

PISCES: Elizabeth Barrett Browning (Pisces Mercury in the 6th House)

“What we call Life is a condition of the soul. And the soul must improve in happiness and wisdom, except by its own fault. These tears in our eyes, these faintings of the flesh, will not hinder such improvement.”

The First Time With Jeon Jungkook

Originally posted by jkguks

Genre : Fluff, romance,comedy,implicit language & sexual innuendos 
Pairing:Jungkook x reader
Length: 13002 words
Summary : This is a series based on all of your first times with jungkook, from your childhood till adulthood

PART 1 PART 2 PART 3 PART 4 PART 5 PART 6 PART 7

Tell me your thoughts in the comments and ask box :)


THE FIRST TIME YOU WERE SENIORS IN HIGH SCHOOL

“Jungkookie” you raised a seductive brow as you slowly pulled onto his uniform’s tie

“What’s up?” his back was pressed against the wall, questioning your little acts

“Isn’t this uniform a little too stuffy?” you commented “This tie seems to be suffocating you”

“I don’t know…” he pulls your waist closer as he eyed your lips hungrily “Maybe it is?”

“What should we do about this, then?” you lift your head to lock eyes with him

“I don’t know, you tell me” Jungkook trails his fingers dangerously close to your skirt

Jungkook groaned as the vibrations of his phone were continuously heard on his night table. The so-called lazy boy wasn’t catching a single break since senior year began. His obligations and future goals were continuously roaming inside his victimized brain. So many things piling up, waiting for him to achieve them, yet the boy was taking his sweet time, sleeping under the soft blankets of love and pulling them closer against his sturdy body.

“Three more minutes mom” He muttered in his sleep

The phone wasn’t vibrating this time but it started ringing which meant that he had an oncoming call. The boy sat up and kicked his blanket in a fury as he hated being interrupted in his sleeping activities. He was having the best dream in a while yet someone had to interrupt his perfect fictional fantasy of getting it on with his long time crush.

He growls before burying his face back onto his pillow as his long fingers reached the electronical device to answer the call. It didn’t take long before he gave a reply that made the recipient’s heart drop and soul’s leave from their body. In fact, Kim Taehyung was always bound to get tangled in a mess when it came to his best friend Jungkook.

“KIM TAEHYUNG, YOU SON OF A DUMB FUCKIDY FUCKIDIDOO, WHAT’S UP?” Jungkook ran a hand through his hair in frustration

“Well damn, seems like someone is not in the mood to talk to me” Taehyung felt taken aback “and what was it? Fuckidy-doo? The fuck is that? You may think you’re being swag right now, but fuckididoo is not happening, just like fetch never happened”

“Look here, you stylish looking brat” Jungkook growled on the other side before clenching his fist “You just ruined the most amazing dream I ever had in my entire life” Jungkook faked a sob

“Did you just call me a brat? I was born before your ass even got out of the oven” Taehyung argued back “What was your dream?! Was it spicy~~~~” Taehyung squealed on the other line

“There’s no way I’m telling you. I’m keeping it to myself so that it actually becomes real” Jungkook rolled his eyes before adding “Sorry to break it out to you but you’re a jinx, Kim Taehyung”

“I’m a jinx? Yeah, you definitely had some sort of kinky dream” Taehyung chuckled “Who was the chick this time? Selena Gomez? Oh!!! Was it Ariana Grande?  You have a thing for brunette girls these days”

“I don’t have a thing for brunette girls, what are you saying? When did I ever say that…” he sighed before ruffling his hair

Jungkook had a type for the past few months and it always changed a few weeks in and out. He was smitten over blonde girls with slim bodies barely three months ago and now he found his new obsession with curvy brunettes. They apparently seemed like the kind of girls who’d teach him a thing or two. All of this was a misconception and even if Jungkook did had a preference for certain hair colors, he never had the guts to ever approach a girl or to stutter a single word if that girl in question wasn’t you. 

Truth had it that Jeon Jungkook was only comfortable around you. He was used to your presence, your scent, your hair color, your clinginess and your comments. Having a type was a thing, but Jungkook tried getting his mind off of you for the past two years, which is why he fell into an ideal type abyss. He didn’t even had an ideal type to begin with , he just wanted to have reason as to why he wouldn’t have to ever develop deeper feelings for you.

“Ayyy…you thought I’d fall for that?” Taehyung shot on the other line “It was definitely a steamy dream. Spill the bean and share the goods with me”

“I dreamt of cows and sheeps running in a field! Happy now?” Jungkook replied

“The fuck? Isn’t that a conception dream? “Taehyung half shouted “Bro, who the fuck have you knocked up? DID YOU MAKE SOMEONE PREGNANT?!”

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Everything Has A Price // The Preacher’s Daughter Part Five [A Mitch Rapp Smut]

Author: @minhosmeanhoe

Series: Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four

Relationship: Mitch Rapp x Reader / Mitch Rapp x OFC

Warnings: NSFW, Explicit Sexual Content, Smut, Fingering, Pool Sex, Daddy Kink, Unprotected Sex, Violence, Fist Fighting, Talks about Death and Bodies, and Swearing.

Word Count: 8,533

Song: Crazy In Love by The Eden Project Ft. Leah Kelly

“I betrayed her, Mitch.” I cried hysterically as he drove like a madman to Lee’s house. “I told her I was gonna be there with her. If something happened to Nia, it’s all my fault.”

“Nothing happened to her.” Mitch replied, looking over at me with determination in his eyes. “She’s alive. I’m sure of it.”

“I-I’m gonna have to live with the weight of this for the rest of my life, aren’t I?” I sobbed.

“No, you’re not because she is okay.” My boyfriend argued.

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because this is Nia we’re talking about. She’s strong and intimidating as hell. No bomb is gonna bring that girl down.”

My doe eyes looked up at Mitch in complete awe. Here was this guy who just happened to stumble into my life and ended up becoming one of the most important people to me.

I gave him a smile and a nod just as we entered Lee’s street, the loud sounds and flashing lights of cop cars and ambulances stealing my attention. The whole road was full of police officers and paramedics hard at work, pulling bodies and a few survivors out of the completely destroyed house. Black smoke filled the air and you could practically taste the burning wood on your tongue. Firefighters held up hoses in front of the house as they put out its fire. The whole street was an open invitation to pure chaos. 

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2

A/N: So, originally, this was supposed to be a thing in my fanfic “Colour Bruise” which I haven’t updated in ages. I am planning on finishing the story but for now, enjoy this. ;-)

Words: 1789
Warnings: lime, a lot of swearing

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Drunk Langst (Pt 1)

Part 2 is here

Lance has always been a sad, depressed drunk. Not the funny kind, who laughed at life’s problems bitterly. The insecure, self-deprecate kind. He found this out at a party back at the Garrison, just after he met Pidge and Hunk. It wasn’t really a problem before he became a paladin of Voltron, I mean, sure, he was depressed then too, and felt like he was unnecessary -thus, the enrollment of the Garrison, where some of the greatest pilots on Earth have gone- but there was really nothing holding him in the background, other than his “inferior” piloting skills. And so, drunk Lance had nothing to fear.

Until he joined the paladins of Voltron. Now, Lance’s self-esteem is at an all time low. He’s the seventh wheel, after all. I’m not even a real sharpshooter, he tells himself. I’m only here because they need five people to control the lions and form Voltron. I can be easily replaced. 

And so he doesn’t dare drink in front of the team, or while on the ship period. The team doesn’t need to know of my insecurities. 

And then it happens. 

One day, Shiro encounters an alien businessman, who says he’s willing to sponsor the Voltron team in exchange of the destruction of the Galra empire. 

After fully investigating the situation -via Pidge- Shiro agrees, and the businessman brings a group of people as well as food, drink, and entertainment to celebrate. 

Aliens don’t drink alcohol, right? Lance thinks, picking up a flute of some pink liquid from a table with an assortment of bottled beverages. After taking a small sniff of the drink, Lance decides it’s not alcohol and takes a sip. Is that….juice?

Lance laughs to himself and grabs one of the bottles, inspecting it and finding that it’s made up of one hundred percent caljifian juice. He likes the taste, a sweet concoction of mango and passion fruit it seems. 

Might as well take the whole bottle. Lance spends the whole night in the make shift dance floor of the lounge, growing dizzier and giddier, until he’s reached his peak, it seems. After Lance has finished three bottles of caljifian juice, Lance finds himself staring at the wall, his mind running at the speed of light, thinking about home, Voltron, and most of all, his insignificance to the team.

Lance is drunk.

In his peripheral vision, Lance notices that most of the businessman’s group is leaving, some of them staying behind and cleaning up the mess. Too deep in his own pool of loneliness and self deprecating thoughts, Lance drifts to his bedroom, only to sit on his bed and stare at his wall. 

It doesn’t take him long to begin crying. Sobbing, wailing, weeping, bawling, Lance’s body begins to curl in on himself, his cries racking and shaking his entire body. 

But nobody can hear him. I’m truly, very alone. Lance realizes. His body shakes harder, his sobs grew louder. 

Why are you here? His mind begins, they don’t need you. If it weren’t for the blue lion, you wouldn’t be here. You always manage to fuck up the mission. All you do is crack jokes and annoy people, especially the team. You think flirting with Allura with defeat the Galra? Getting on Keith’s nerves won’t do that either. Why don’t you just shut up and follow orders?

A few of these thoughts, Lance found, left his mouth in a haze of broken words and an even more broken voice, small mutters turned into even smaller whispers of broken sentences.

Lance falls asleep with a trail of these feelings invading his mind.

The following morning, Lance enters the kitchen looking like death. Last night’s spell took a toll on his body and mind, and it showed. Dark bags hung under the blue paladin’s eyes, as well as red ring around them from the tears. He’d gotten dressed that morning by haphazardly picking clothes off the floor and putting them on lazily. His shirt was backwards and he was wearing his leggings mean especially for dancing, even though they were training with the lions today.

He didn’t even wash his face, or prepare any of the treatments he once applied almost religiously.

The team would have thought this were normal, not-a-morning-person behaviour- had this not been Lance, who also poured himself a cup of alien coffee. This is not Lance behaviour. Lance doesn’t drink coffee, Lance doesn’t miss his morning face mask, and Lance most definitely does not wear his special dance leggings unless he absolutely had to. This behaviour continued for a week, and the team noticed.

Around the first few days, his calmness was a common joke around the castle that “Lance’s ADHD was cured” and “Lance has become a mature adult”. His automatic response to orders became a small mutter of agreement or on occasion, “yes, sir” or “yes, ma’am”. 

As he only follows orders, he’s praised more and is able to contribute to the team more positively, a complete opposition of his usual work.

The last few days however, the crew became concerned with Lance’s behaviour, and although he started brightening up considerately, they became wary of his condition, and went an extra mile to ensure that Lance would be okay and get better. 

Even though they did their best to understand, they still weren’t sure what provoked Lance’s behaviour. 

Lance grew back into his old, silly self eventually. That is, until he noticed the slight change in the group’s reaction. As his usual self, he bothered them and had poor performance in the field with his lion -compared to the rest of them at least. As his usual self, he wasn’t praised, but instead, put down and ignored.

Lance figured that while he followed orders, he’d also make the team’s lives easier. So he got a hold on the businessman and found out where he could buy caljifian juice. He bought as much as he could and drank. He drank, and drank, and drank, until he couldn’t feel anymore. He wasn’t Lance.

He took precautions of course, only drinking when everyone was asleep, only on the weekends. It kept him in shape, as he began training more, bonding with his lion. 

Although they were bonding, Blue felt that Lance had thrown away his will to live, only a small piece remaining. His team.

Over a course of weeks, they grew more and more worried of his condition. Until they found the source of his behaviour.

Shiro pulled a surprise inspection on the team, but when he came to Lance’s room, the blue paladin was nowhere to be seen. Probably training, Shiro thought with a frown on his face. 

He opened the door to find an absolute wreck. Clothes were piled up everywhere, the desk was covered in papers and weapons, and the bathroom…the bathroom was in worse shape. Upon entering, Shiro found all of Lance’s face products and lotions thrown into the trash bin, his specialized shampoo bottles were thrown haphazardly in the recycling bin next it. 

Shiro’s mouth hung open at the black plastic sheet covering the mirror. The black paladin exits the bathroom in complete shock, rushing to the door to confront Lance in the training room.

But under the hover bed, Shiro saw a glint of glass catch his eye, and walked warily towards the object. On his hands and knees, Shiro peaked under the bed to find dozens of bottles of alien juice, moreover, the alien equivalent of alcohol.

Instead of confronting Lance, Shiro met up with the other paladins as well as the princess and Coran to discuss the Cuban’s behaviour.  

All are shocked, except for Pidge and Hunk, both of who had a sneaking suspicion that something like this had been going on. 

Part Two

Leave This Town Pt 5 (Mechanic!Bucky AU)

Characters: reader, Bucky, Surprise Avenger! :)

Summary: Your dreams of kissing your small town life goodbye are about to come true when an unexpected detour leaves you stranded. Meeting the handsome local mechanic has you rethinking your plans. Perhaps happiness is less about where you’re headed and more about the people you meet along the way.

Song Inspiration: Sleep on the Floor by The Lumineers

Warnings: Fluff! Then some angst. Mentions of sex.

Word Count: 3k

Tags are at bottom (TAG LIST IS CLOSED I’M SORRY)

**This fic is for @bionic-buckyb ‘s 5K AU Writing Challenge**

A/N: Oh man. I’ve been so excited for this part. I really hope you enjoy it! Please let me know your thoughts! Love you guys!! 

<<<Part Four   Part Five   Part Six>>> 

Leave This Town Masterlist

Full Masterlist

____________________________________________________

Originally posted by sebjpeg

(Sorry, I just had to use this gif. :D )

Previously: 

Stepping away you grasped one of his hands in yours while the other slipped the key into the lock and turned. You stepped inside but before he could cross the threshold, he stopped, causing you to look back in question.

“Y/N. Are you sure?” he asked.

You stared at him a moment, his hair mussed and pupils blown wide in lust. Mostly likely, you looked just as wrecked from only a kiss. You needed more. With a nodded, you pulled him forward and shut the door behind him. “I’m positive.”

_________________

The moment the lock slid home, his arms were around you with soft, plush lips caressing yours. Bucky’s large, calloused hands brushed down the side of your neck, then teased just under the collar of your shirt down toward your chest. As your fingers worked to unbutton his shirt, his fingers did the same with his mouth never leaving yours. 

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Gunshot (a sneak peek)

So… This was written way back in January (yikes), when I first started to write the mafia au fic 8 Days a Week and only @kawaiilo-ren and a couple other people have seen it. You might think you’ve seen it before, because Kait is a babe and she’s been drawing the amazing comic of this scene (and murdering me along the way). 

My plan was to keep this private until it was time to publish it on Ao3 but life is short and I actually like this. People will probably forget by the time it’s published there anyway, oops. 

Under the cut because it’s long. 



Hospital hall is looking cold and bleak under the fluorescent lights, like it did many hours ago. Yuri doesn’t remember how long it’s been since he left the building but coming back feels like returning from war, maybe. He doesn’t know what war feels like. It must be exhausting, if it resembles this even slightly. 

Ignoring his shaking hands is easy, as is turning a blind eye to his pulsating head ache. His body is crashing after riding through the adrenaline waves and he would kill for a nap; but that would make the list of things worth killing for longer and he isn’t sure if he is ready to deal with the paperwork. He isn’t ready to deal with anything yet, he just wants to return the weapon to its true owner and fall into a lifelong slumber.

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Dark Star // The Preacher’s Daughter Part Four [A Mitch Rapp Smut]

Author: @minhosmeanhoe

Series: Part One Part Two Part Three

Relationship: Mitch Rapp x Reader / Mitch Rapp x OFC

Warnings: NSFW, Explicit Sexual Content, Smut, Fingering, Gun Play, Daddy Kink, Unprotected Sex, Rough Sex, and Swearing. 

Word Count: 7,758

Song: Dark Star by Jaymes Young

A/N: Thank you to @stilinski-jpeg for proofreading this. I am sorry for uploading this a day late, my weekend has been incredibly busy. I hope this part is worth the wait. I love you guys. Thank you for being kind and understanding. 

Mitch Rapp, the man I have given myself to both physically and emotionally, is a trained killer was the only thing running through my mind all of last night. There was no amount of counting sheep in the world that would be able to make me stop thinking about the imminent danger inside of my own home and fall asleep. My brain pounded painfully inside of my head as the tears continued to roll down my cheeks. I had already grown tired of crying at this point, but my eyes still did anyway. Whatever energy I had was drained from my body and it took all the effort I had to pull my numb self out of bed and into my bathroom. I closed the door behind me and all of the events from last night came crashing down as I stared at it.

“Well, Rosalie.” He sighed. “You’re a queen and I’m an assassin.”

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PoliceOfficer!Jungkook (Dope!AU)

Originally posted by minikkuki

Pairing: Reader x PoliceOfficer!Jungkook

Warnings: Smut (use of handcuffs, oral(reader giving))

Words: 2.9k

Summary: Y/N is robbed on the way home from work, luckily there is a police officer nearby to help her out, in more ways than one.

You were walking home peacefully after the late shift at work. You had your headphones in, gently nodding your head along to the beat as you walked. You had nearly arrived at your apartment, ready to wrap yourself in a warm blanket and fall asleep.

It all happened so fast. One second you were walking along the street minding your own business. Next thing you knew, you were on the floor, your hands flying out to stop you hitting your head on the concrete. You bag was pulled from your shoulder and you heard the fast footsteps of someone running away from you.

“For Fuck sake” you groan to yourself as you stand up, brushing the dirt from your jacket.

Luckily there wasn’t much in your bag, your purse and phone were in your jacket pocket so the situation could definitely have been worse. All the thief had actually managed to take was some food, tissues and a bit of loose change. You almost laughed to yourself until you realised your keys were also in your bag.

You groan, resisting the urge to punch the wall at the fact that you couldn’t get into your apartment. It was too late to call a locksmith, and none of your neighbours had keys to your apartment.

“Are you okay?” you hear a voice from behind you.

You turn around to see a young man. He was wearing a police uniform. You had to admit he was attractive, he had a cute face, yet he still looked like he could win a fight, which is reassuring.

“Yeah I’m fine” you mutter.

“Well you’re just stood glaring at a wall, it’s not exactly normal” he stated, a little too bluntly for your liking, did he not just see what happened?

“Well I was just pushed to the floor and had my bag stolen, so you’re not exactly doing much law enforcing are you?” you respond with a fake smiled and raised eyebrows.

He opens his mouth to speak before closing it when no words come.

“Are you you okay?” he asks with more concern than before.

You nod you head “I’m fine, he didn’t take anything important, except my keys” you sigh.

“Oh… Do you have a spare set?” he asks.

You chuckle. “Yeah. In my apartment”

“Oh…”

“Yeah”

“Do you have somewhere you can go for the night?” he asks, not wanting to leave you alone on the street.

“I’ll just go to a hotel, none of my friends live close and they’ll all be asleep by now anyway” you sigh, knowing that there were no budget hotels in the area and that this would end up to be a pretty costly night after all.

“If you need a place to stay, I have a couch?” he suggests nervously. He didn’t want to overstep the line and seem creepy, when in fact he just wanted to offer you somewhere to stay that wasn’t ridiculously priced.

You didn’t know what made you trust him. Maybe it was the fact he was a police officer, or maybe it was the fact that you definitely couldn’t afford the hotel since you didn’t get paid until next week. Either way, you decided to trust that his intentions were good.

“That would be great actually, are you sure it’s alright? I wouldn’t want to impose” you reply.

“Yeah it’s fine. As you said, if I was better at my job you wouldn’t have been robbed in the first place” he jokes.

You couldn’t help the smile that appeared on your face.

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Artificial Love

A/N: I’ve finally managed to post a smut after so long! I’m terribly so sorry to everyone who’s been waiting for their requests to be fulfilled! This smut is dedicated to the lovely anon who requested a long time ago. On a side note, thank you to everyone for the lovely feedback and support I’ve been receiving for my moodboards. Look forward to more in the future ;) As of now, enjoy some Sub! Jongdae x

Pairing(s): Chen/Jongdae x Reader

Warnings: Light bondage, Submissive Chen

Genre: Smut

Requested: Yes

Summary: Jongdae teases you with videos of his cane-grinding skills in ‘Artificial Love’ so you decide to teach him a lesson when he comes home.

Word Count: 3445

Originally posted by etherealchen

It’s been weeks since you last saw your boyfriend Jongdae due to the touring he’s been undergoing with his band members. However, despite the never-ending distance between the two of you and the time zone differences, Jongdae never failed to drop you at least one call or text message a day. Even if it is to complain about how exhausted he feels or a ‘Hey baby, miss you lots’ message, your heart swells up with unconditional love whenever you catch a glimpse of his contact name popping up on the screen of your phone.

It’s no easy feat to live your life normally when Jongdae always plays at the back of your mind, teasing you with the promise of his return. You could be washing dishes and the thought of him would invade your mind, reminding you of the playful memories of when the two of you would flick liquid detergent at each other while doing the dishes after a meal.

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Okay, I needed to write something about kilt-wearing Jug because seriously how hot was that boy while pulling a Jamie Fraser? Very hot, I know. So, yeah, here you go, Scottish sexytimes! Also, my bae Anna aka @jugandbettsdetectiveagency has already written an incredibly steamy one-shot regarding Jug’s hotness in a kilt and Betty’s thirst for him so be sure to go check that out too, if you haven’t already! And, you know, keep a fan nearby. ;)

A/N: I kept the kilt sextimes theme but I didn’t really follow the making-up request because I was in the mood of a more fun, angst-free idea. I hope both of you still like my take on your prompts, darlings! Also, this is set in the future. Enjoy! ❤️

Warning: EXTREME SIN AHEAD


Scot and Bothered

A kilt.

A traditional, all plaid Scottish kilt.

Jughead Jones wearing said kilt.

Jughead Jones wearing said kilt while poun—

“I think I need a drink!”

Betty exclaims way chirpier than necessary, plastering an also way too dashing and way too fake smile on her petal pink lips, hoping that her inappropriate thoughts aren’t as crystal clear obvious as the blushing color that she’s sure is creeping on her highlighted cheekbones.  At her side, her mother raises a confused eyebrow, slightly reprimanding her daughter for indulging in alcohol that early in the evening, but Betty is way too flustered to even care about Alice Cooper’s anachronistic ladylike manners right at that moment.

“The bride and groom aren’t even here yet, Elizabeth.” With the corner of her eyes, the aforementioned Cooper can see Polly sporting an amused frown at their mother’s tone and her sister’s sudden hyperactivity.

“Well, I’m thirsty.” Not necessarily a lie, but then again this feeling low in her abdomen isn’t associated with the basic human need. “And this is a four-thousand-dollar Moet exclusively delivered in Riverdale for this day only; I wanna see what the fuss is all about.” Using Veronica’s excessive taste as an excuse, the blonde’s eyes land on Jughead once again, the words dying on her lips and she fears she is actually drooling, bringing a hand to the corner of her mouth just to be safe that nothing embarrassing is going to award her with the title of Horniest Maid of Honor anytime soon. She camouflages the action by pretending to check for any hints of smudged lipstick.

“It’s amazing, Betty.” Polly’s half-groan invades her hazy mind. “The cute bartender treated me a glass earlier and it was indeed the best drink I ever had.”

“Polly!” Alice scoffs incredulously, not happy about her daughters’ tendencies to, what in her mind she exaggerates to be, alcoholism.

“What, mom?” She shoots her an impish grin. “I’m a thirty-tree-year-old single mother that works way too much for her own good, in a wedding full of other single men that seem to be straight out of a high-nudity HBO show. Alcohol is the only thing that can help me keep my hands to myself.” Her eyes land on one of Archie’s second cousins, practically scanning him from head to toe before continuing naughtily. “Or not.” She shrugs with a wink towards them.

Alice Cooper gasps in horror, Polly giggles and Betty finds the perfect opportunity to excuse herself silently from the bantering duo.

Any other time she would have stayed to relish in the feeling of this mother-daughter easy going relationship the three of them had built from scratch over the last couple of years, offering Polly a helping hand at teasing their not so uptight anymore mother. But right now she really needs that drink and she really needs Jughead.

Yeah, she definitely does.

A penguin-dressed waiter passes her by and Betty stops him with a sweet smile, snatching a flute of champagne from his full tray, barely uttering a thank you, before plopping down on her prescribed seat on the still empty head table at the top center of the beautiful venue. The dusking sun along with a plethora of elegant white candle arrangements are illuminating prettily the Lodge’s lush green property at the outskirts of Riverdale that is decorated to perfection with the colors of pristine white and wealthy gold for the special occasion. It is truly a dreamy sight but Betty can’t really focus on anything else but the dark haired man that she calls her other half.

She knows that he is handsome; since day one, even when he didn’t believe in himself or even when nobody else did for that matter, Betty was aware that he was indeed a catch. After all those years together she also knows that he is the handsomest in dark blue or burgundy, or in the black tux (paired with a bowtie and suspenders and all) he wore on their wedding or bare-chested and only in his ratty old sweatpants or when he falls asleep next to her, weightless and sated and happy with an arm always securing her to his side.  

Yet, nothing had ever warned her for this level of hotness.

The severe blood ties of the Andrews’ family with Scotland may not come as a shock regarding the Gaelic derived surname and its members’ more than obvious trade of fiery hair but the Southern in their blood is not something they regularly advertised. So when Veronica and Archie announced, via one of their numerous wedding planning related Skype calls, to the couple consisting of her maid of honor and his best man that they had decided on a Scottish themed wedding, meaning traditional Scottish dress for any man present, Jughead all but flew out of one of their Boston apartment wide windows. He was adamant in his refusal to compromise his aesthetic for anything as surreal as him in a skirt – his words, not hers – but between his brotherly instincts towards Archie, Veronica’s insufferable pestering and Betty’s long, promising list of sex favors he finally caved. And, right now, his wife couldn’t be more in debt to her two best friends about that decision.

They arrived two weeks prior in Riverdale to help with the preparations but Betty never got the chance to see her husband in the characteristic tartan, since all the necessary fitting sessions were taking place at the Andrews’ household – Mary and Nana Andrews being the only experts that could work around the thick fabric – whereas at the same time she was needed at Pembrooke, trying dresses with the rest of the bridesmaids. And when the big day came, as per tradition, they got ready with their respective wedding parties, leaving Betty with a kaleidoscope of butterflies fluttering anxiously low in her stomach in anticipation for the big reveal.

Betty is sure that the state of aching arousal she was experiencing throughout the entire wedding ceremony has totally granted her a VIP front-row seat in hell.

But really she can’t help herself. Looking at him now, the center piece of her view, with a beer bottle at hand, casually chatting with Fred and two other men from the Andrews’ side of the family, she can’t think about anything else but him having her in any and all positions he desires while his lean physic is adorned with that symbol of raw masculinity. His jacket is now discarded and abandoned along with her bouquet on the seat next to her, leaving him in just a nicely formfitting button-up that stretches deliciously over his biceps with every swing he takes of his beer and a dark blue vest that hugs his hard chest perfectly, making him look elegant and very well-groomed. She can see his lean legs, strong and manly, his firm butt stretching the tartan, his loose, utterly charming grin, his slick raven hair styled in well-behaved waves – by the hairdresser Veronica had hired for the boys because, yes, she wouldn’t accept any scruffy appearances in her country chic wedding – and free from his beanie, the item not in his essential wardrobe anymore since Betty is the security blanket he ever wished and wanted, and she can hardly control her hormones at this point, the head-over-heels in love woman in her screaming to go get her man.

The bubbly drink in her hand disappears down her throat in one swift, buttons-up movement and she sets the expensive flute down with determination, before storming off towards him, a sea of blue swinging urgently but elegantly around her golden sandals. Jughead’s whole face lightens up with a wide smile as long as he notices his ethereal angel walking over to him.

“Sorry, gentlemen, but I really need to steal my husband for a moment.” Polite as always, Betty casts her best good girl smile at the older men, who of course immediately fall for her charm and reciprocate it. Jughead curls proudly an arm around her waist as she leans to his side, sending him a loving look.

“All yours.” Fred raises his arms, giving permission with his typical kind smile, a tad more elated due to the day. “He’s not that good of a company to begin with.” He jokes good-heartedly, earning cheerful laughs from everyone around and a fake offended eye roll from the man that he considers his second son, while the couple takes some steps away from the small group.

“Everything alright, love?” Jughead wonders what type of emergency needs his assistance, lightly caressing her hip in affection.

Betty shushes him with a chaste but fierce kiss that takes him a tad off guard, feeling her snatch the beer bottle from his hands to abandon it somewhere before taking hold of one of them to drag him behind her. “Just, come with me.” Her words are hushed and they hide some kind of desperation that Jughead struggles to comprehend as of why and he is about to question what’s going on in panic only to be guided behind the big stage that is set at the other end of the large property of land, where a popular indie band – that Jughead has never heard before but apparently they are pretty big and very good friends with the groom – and probably Archie at some point in the night are going to perform. As of now, a DJ straight from New York is entertaining the guests and Jughead is utterly confused about why Betty and he of all people are needed backstage.

When his back collides with the black soundproofing wall and his wife is kissing him in frenzy he is definitely not confused anymore.

Elizabeth Cooper Jones, what are you doing?” He gasps in mock scandal but with a surprised smirk on his face, upon pulling back for air. She ignores him and his tone, her hands roaming all over his torso in need and her lips trailing light teasing kisses on his neck, feeling a faint groan vibrate against her lips that makes her smile. “This is a public place, there’s a wedding venue full of people literally meters away and” he uses her shoulders to push her back to look at him, a mischievous glint in his baby blue eyes as he continues in an incredulous whisper “your son is out there.” The five-year-old mini version of him, also dressed in the traditional dress every man is sporting today, left the side of his beloved dad in search for his cousins minutes before Betty had stormed over to abduct him, Jughead being a tad wary to be doing what he assumes his blonde tempress wants them to be doing in a place where the little menace can easily walk in on them while running around.

Betty brings him for another passionate kiss while her hands fist his vest against his hard pecs, her female, more rational and calm nature not getting easily intimidated like him. “It’s a secluded area, everyone is too wrapped up in the champagne that’s going around to notice us gone and our son is playing treasure hunt with Reggie.” She crosses his concerns out one by one, her whole body rubbing deliciously against his, Jughead gripping her hips for dear life as she leaves open-mouthed kisses at his jawline.

“I knew my kid would end up weird.” He murmurs as he looks stoically to the side and sighing, half in comic self-doubt about his parenting and half in arousal that is now creeping in full force because of his wife’s treatment.

“Well, after his growing crush on Cheryl of all people, I think Reggie is the least of our worries.” She replies nonchalantly against his lips, hands cradling his cheeks. “Now, kiss me.” He doesn’t need to be told twice, his lips crash on hers in lightning speed and she whimpers at the taste of beer and true authentic Jughead Jones flavor in her hungry mouth.

“Seriously, Betts, what’s gotten into you?” his words dance in a murmur against her parted lips as they change the angle of their kiss, their bodies pushing and pulling in an intensely compelling manor that has her dizzy and more than ready for him.

“Have you looked yourself in the mirror?” Betty groans in frustration, tugging at his down lip and causing him to buck up against her, following her sinful mouth even if it is barely an inch away from his. She utters her next words in a desperate sigh, slender fingers nesting in his raven locks, as she feels the tale tail heaviness of his hard-on against her stomach. “You’re hot, Jughead Jones, you are my husband and right now I can’t concentrate on anything else but how damn sexy you are, baby.” She moans faintly before kissing him again, bruising and demanding, the flat of her tongue delivering a lewd caress against his that has him groaning and attacking her with more force, his hands on her hips becoming fists and painfully grasping blue silk and tantalizing curves.

The kiss is dirty, full of teeth and tongues and wet sounds and right at this moment she is neither the loving mother of his child nor his superwoman wife. She is the sensuous mistress he always got to have in his bed and that is driving him insane.

But Jughead Jones is a man of control and just like that the tables are turned, Betty’s lungs being left without any ounce of air as she’s now the one trapped between the wall and his hot body.

“Jesus, love, is this about the kilt?” he hisses, pulling back to take her in, swollen, lipstick-free lips, crimson cheeks, eyes deep meadow green from wanton lust. What wins his attention at the end is the up and down movement of her breasts as she pants heavily, silently begging for more.

“It’s about everything that’s under that kilt.” His blonde angel muses in a sultry whisper, circling her center against his growing erection, the action forcing him to chew on his down lip in agony and look up at her with a deep manly sigh. “And under that shirt and inside that beautiful mind and about your hair that is killing me today” she groans around the word for emphasis, throwing her head back before grabbing his chin, manicured nails clawing his clean shaved jawline “and that grin that should definitely be illegal.” Jughead gives her the boyish grin she adores, a tad flattered and a lot turned on by her behavior, Betty leaning up to chastely kiss his grin away. “The Highlander array is just a bonus; a very dirty, fantasy-coming-to-life bonus.” Her eyes are roaming over his body, insatiable and predatory, and she has to have him now, she needs to, or else she will explode in a million tiny pieces because of how much she wants him.

“After fifteen years of being together you never cease to surprise me, Betty Cooper.” Jughead sighs in utter love and devotion, cradling her cheeks, ready for a deep kiss. “God, I love you.” He groans and then there is silence.

Their urgent lips move together in-sync, tongues sliding sexily over one another in a dizzy rhythm, mouths opening wide to fit perfectly together and ravish each other. He is sucking on her bottom lip, biting it, soothing it with sensual swipes of his tongue and she is gasping, yeaning to finally have him inside her, his sinful lips making her wetter by the minute, as she keeps bucking her hips against his in frenzy. Betty gives his tongue a wet and filthy suck, twirling the tip of her own tongue against its tip and Jughead’s cock recognizes the action from all the times she is on her knees or bent over him with her glorious ass in the air, the now painfully erect member twitching between them and making them both moan heavily inside each other’s mouth. A forceful squeeze is delivered against her ass, his fingers digging on the round flesh with vigor and Betty’s teeth graze the inside of his lower lip as her nails scratch his scalp, causing him to growl low in his chest and slap the already irritated skin of her behind.

Their lips disconnect as she moans in bliss, biting her lip to block the sound, Jughead letting a dark chuckle as he goes to unbutton his vest in a hurry.

“No, no, no, don’t unbutton anything, don’t take anything off.” His wife stops him instantly, her soft hands shooting to grab his wrists as he looks at her perplexed with raised eyebrows. “I want you like that, so dapper and gentlemanly handsome, while you fuck me hard and fast like you only know how.” She explains in a dirty whisper, the tip of her tongue curling upwards while swiping sensually across the center of his lips, Jughead pinning her hips to the wall almost painfully.

His lips curl in a wicked smirk. “You want your typical rough treatment, baby girl, don’t you?” he teases her with his hoarse, sex voice and pupils dilated and pitch black because of how much and how rough he wants her. “Hold your dress up for me.” He orders as he braces her against the wall, curling a hand at the back of her knee and hitching her slender leg over his hip. Betty grins flirtatiously, a faux innocent look on her pretty eyes, as she slides her dress up and stops when the hem is barely covering the heat between her thighs.

Jughead curses under his breath; not only does he has the perfect view of her long legs there is also not a single hint of lace. “God, no panties?” his head snaps up to look at her in pleasant surprise, the intensity in his graze making her even weaker in the knees. “Are you trying to kill me, Mrs. Jones?” a teasing smirk plays on his lips, his forehead dropping against hers as his large palm roams from the back of her thigh to the now bare skin of her ass.

“If you haven’t notice this dress is way too formfitting and tight…” Betty shrugs in fake naivety and he would have believed that her intentions were pure if, one, he didn’t know her at all, and two, if her fingers weren’t tugging at the waistband of his kilt, dangerously close to his threatening to explode erection.

“Oh, I’ve noticed.” He breathes against her slightly agape lips. “Trust me, I sure as hell did.” The blue floor-length gown not only complimented her natural beauty but it fitted her like a glove, hugging her curves in a way that had his mouth run dry from the first moment he saw her earlier that evening, not able to stop himself from ogling her during the entire ceremony. This was the first time Jughead felt grateful to Veronica Lodge.

“Too bad that you didn’t feel the need to honor the tradition of no undergarments under a kilt.” Betty pouts in actual disappointment, licking her lips as her eyes flick momentarily at the place that rests against her open legs.

“Flashing the whole town of Riverdale and half the population of New York was not in my evening plans.” Her husband states in his usual sardonic manner, before continuing impishly. “Plus, I didn’t want to force Archie into a serious case of inferiority complex on his wedding night.” The joke holds some male pride but the humor falls short when Betty’s hand drops to grip his long member while she breathes a short giggle.

“Yeah, that you’d definitely do.” Her filthy whisper mingles with his shaky pants as she palms him heavily over the woolen material of the kilt, his hips circling against her tiny hand while he slightly roars and dives for her neck. He is careful not to leave a mark so he just leaves wet trails and goosebumps caused by his hot breath against her skin, an arm curling around her waist to hold her flat against him and the fingers of his free hand sneaking between them. He finds her ridiculously soaked and his teeth close involuntarily around the neckline of her dress against her collarbone, both moaning at the sensation.

“Fuck, babe, you’re dripping.” Jughead looks down with a low groan as he notices even the inside of her thighs glistering with need, watching two of his long fingers slide effortlessly inside her knuckle-deep, stretching her good and proper. She melts against his body and drops her head back with a high-pitch sigh, her hips rising up to meet the push and pull of his fingers, desperate to ease her dark desire.

Betty grabs his wrist and looks at him with hooked eyes. “Inside me. Get inside me.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. His fingers slip out of her burning heat, waist arching in a perfect bow at the loss of contact, before they get buried again but this time inside the wet abyss of her mouth. Betty groans at the sudden and filthy invasion and Jughead does too in a sexual haze as he feels her nibble and suck and bite his skin until there is not a single drop of her feminine essence on them. She frees them with a wet pop that causes his already foggy mind to short-circuit before his lips attack hers, Jughead tasting the salty flavor of her arousal on her tongue, a naughty sensation that always has him yearning to pound into her raw and rough until she isn’t able to walk straight.

Together they work on getting rid of his boxers all the while practically eating each other out passionately, his black underwear finally sliding down his legs to pool on his polished shoes in careless abandon. Betty pushes the offending material of his kilt against his flexing abs in a hurry and when his iron hard cock lands with a delicious tap against her sensitive clit they both lose it, her gasping loudly and him grunting inside their heated kiss.

He slides into her all the way with a hard trust, the delicious fullness of his hard member making her legs shiver and her mouth open in a shocked soundless moan. She is soaking wet and burning hot and Jughead feels his own knees buck at the sensation as he begins thrusting inside her, curt and intense, drawing out of her lips filthy moans and erotic sighs. One of her hands sneaks behind him and grips his ass, fingers digging on the tartan material to urge him forward faster, deeper, each time buried to the hilt and grazing that sweet spot that he always finds expertly and makes her lose any sense of sanity.

“More, Juggie, please. Fuck me harder.” She is a whimpering mess as she withers against him, her eyebrows knitted together in pleasure and her lips open wide, and of course he can’t resist her, he grabs her hips for leverage and he starts pounding into her forcefully and wild, licking the droplets of sweat that run down the front of her neck while groaning at how tight she is around his throbbing cock.

“You like that, baby girl, huh?” he wants to bite her, mark her, litter her with bloody red love bites and his teeth graze her pulse point, her tiny muscles sucking him inside her as a reflex, causing him to utter a sinful fuck against her skin. His calloused hand slides at the other side of her neck and then sneaks at the back of it, undoing the knot that holds her pretty dress and yanking the neckline down, her right breast escaping the silk prison with a mouthwatering jiggle. “Shit, baby, you are so sexy.” Jughead spats coarsely, voice deep and raspy from the sexual haze he is in. His thump moves to toy with the exposed and perky nipple, rubbing tightly and then pitching the sensitive nerve-ending, and Betty’s leg that is still on the ground holding her weight gives out as she moans loudly, Jughead wrapping their lips in a wet kiss to shush her.

With his nails digging at the back of her other thigh, he urges both her legs to wrap around his waist, her holding him captive inside her hotness and him effortlessly holding her up against the wall. He claims her lips once again and they both moan in unison as his cock finds a new angle inside her, rubbing whatever it is that makes her long legs shivering violently and her head a mess of foggy clouds.

“You’re taking me so deep, Betts; you’re always so fucking good to me.” He continues with the dirty talk they both overly enjoy, burning her inside and out and quickening his now forceful thrusts, Betty biting her lip hard enough to draw blood, knowing all too well how vocal she always is and certainly not wanting to cause a scene.

“Right there, please…” she whines, eyes closed and frown in tack, her lips opening in a silent large O, as her head is thrown back and her golden locks cascade down her waist. “A little bit more…” Her nails are clawing the soft material of his pristine white shirt on his biceps, the flexing of his strong muscles as he holds her up tightening the knot low in her abdomen. His thick member feels heavenly inside her, her clit is brushing teasingly against his adbomen and the itchy material of the plaid kilt is offering a weird but all together incredible sensation against the soft skin of her thighs, leaving her minutes away from seeing every star and every planet behind her shut eyelids.

Betty orders herself to look at him; he is leaning against her tall and trim, only slightly disheveled and with that Scottish attire intact, looking like the definition of a gentleman but fucking her like an animalistic caveman. Every on point thrust of his hips, every flick of his thump against her hard nipple, every hoarse moan and every deep pant appears to be effortless, calculated to bring her immense pleasure, like he is a natural at fucking her brains out and, damn straight, he is and Betty can feel the upcoming high of her climax right through her bones. The long moan that escapes her next can make any porn star feel self-conscious.

Jughead’s grunt is nearly painful. “Come on, do it, squeeze the fuck out of me.” His forehead drops on her chin and he looks down to where they are connected, his legs buckling at the image of his hard cock glistering with how wet he makes her as it disappears in and out of her in a rapacious manner. His thump comes to rub her clit with no mercy, Betty anchoring herself from his shoulder blades with a low erotic sigh, her toes curling and her body stiffening as he is getting her right on the edge.

“Come. Come hard around me, baby.” He murmurs on her neck before biting hard on her jawline and giving her one harder thrust, his wife shaking to oblivion as her orgasm crashes violently, her back arching right to his face and her hips spasming again and again from all the high he is offering her. A long deep moan of his name escapes her and Jughead clasps a hand against her mouth to block the sound, feeling his own self tiptoeing on the edge when she bites on the inside of his middle finger, her sultry muffled sounds turning all his blood into a fountain of lust.

Betty can feel him twitching inside her through her own waves of pleasure and his thrusts getting demanding and sloppy as his heavy breaths quicken and deepen, a sign she came to recognize many years ago as his upcoming undoing.

“Do it, Juggie.” she leans to whisper against his ear, still spasming from the aftershocks of her intense orgasm, her muscles tight as a vice around his pulsing cock, coaxing his release. “Come and let me feel you inside me.” And that’s all it takes for him to comply, her warm wetness, her filthy words and her erotic sighs, his release erupting in full force as he stills inside of her, his fingers bruising her hips and his mouth leaving deep manly grunts against the hollow of her collarbone.

They take some minutes to slow down their heartbeats and relish in the feeling of this blissful aching, Jughead pulling back from her neck once his breathing is close to normal to offer her a sated lopsided smile before kissing her lazily but sensual, once she reciprocates it with a lightheaded slime of her own. He reluctantly pulls out of her, both complaining at the loss of skin to skin contact inside their slow make out that ends after a while with some loving pecks. With a satisfied sigh Jughead reaches down where Betty’s beige and gold clutch is abandoned, retrieving some tissues to clean the both of them, not even trying to hide the proud smirk that still curls on his lips every time at the evidence of him against her glistering center, this time that smirk being intensified by the sight of redness at the inside of her creamy thighs due to the rough material of his kilt. They smile at each other in a knowing manner and then he lowers her to the ground, helping her with securing the knot that holds her neckline of her dress up behind her neck while she fixes the rest of her appearance.

Jughead is moments away from sliding his boxers up his legs but she is faster than him, yanking them off his legs, almost making him trip on his own feet. When he sees her twirling the material around her pointer in a teasing manner, he raises an eyebrow at her.

“I’m keeping those.” Betty informs him cockily, folding his underwear hastily and shoving it into her clutch. Jughead goes to object, terrified about the possibility of him walking around in a crowded venue with nothing securing his manhood, but she curls her arms around his neck, brushing her lips against his. “The night is still young, dear husband; and this was only a small preview.” Her tone is sexy and full of promises, her hand sneaking down to cheekily squeeze his butt while winking at him, and Jughead reluctantly smirks intrigued down at her as a shiver runs down his spine, the little minx leaving a sugary sweet kiss against his slight parted mouth.

She turns to leave just as a loud commotion starts echoing amongst the crowd at the wedding reception. He watches her go, the clicking of her heels tantalizing him just as much as the extra sway on her hips, his beautiful wife patting the side of her head to smooth any wild locks ruining her hairstyle and betraying their naughty shenanigans, throwing him an authentic Betty Cooper smile over her shoulder, the smile he fell in love with when he was five and he didn’t quite know that his life would turn out to be so brilliant.

He smiles back, boyish and youthful, a single thought creeping around his still disorientated mind.

“God, my wife is hot.”

2

Till the End of Time: Sometimes a boy just needs his dad.

Words 3.4k - Second Person

Warnings: few swear words

“You don’t think I care,” Harry scoffed his eyebrows shooting up into his hair line. “I always see when you’re upset, but you go to your mum first before I even get the chance to talk to you and by then she tells me that you’re fine. I heard your voice in that voicemail, I could have called your mum and told her that you left a message for her but that wasn’t my first thought. My first thought was to come here and see if I my son was okay and if I could help him and it wasn’t just because I was few doors away it was because I could feel your pain and I wanted to make it go away.”

.-.-.-.

Eli’s ears were ringing as he walked into his New York hotel. Sunglasses’ were covering his stinging eyes although the sun had gone down long ago and there were small tufts of his brown curls peeking out from under his dark hoodie.

He gave a quick wave to the girls that were waiting behind a barrier and they screamed an assortment of ‘I love you’ back at him, making his ears ring even more. He had been used to this his whole life though you had done your best to protect him from all the media and fans imposing in on his childhood. Now he was twenty and about to release his second album and all these girls were there for him instead of his father.

Eli was grateful for the way that you had protected him growing up, he remembered a number of times where he cuddled against your chest, his ears hurting as all the girls screamed his dad’s name. You were the one that held him when he was upset, his three sisters preferred their dad’s hold but he always found that when he was upset, scared or needed something you were the one he sought.

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Pillow Talk

Summary: While at Vidcon, Phil can’t seem to fall asleep, even after the whole ‘missed flight’ ordeal. His mind begins to drift, and his thoughts start to be filled with pride for his most favorite person.

Genre: don’t let the title fool you, it’s all FLUFF

Warnings: umm none that i can think of

Word Count: 1486

a/n: apparently my brain always comes up with stories about people who can’t sleep. also pLEASE DON’T JUDE ME i couldn’t think of a good title so i named it after zayn’s song and yeah i wrote thing while waiting in lines and legoland and universal studios and finished while at dinner so yeah ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

~~~~

It’s been a long two days. Phil still couldn’t believe they had made it to Vidcon. He thought, for sure, that they’d miss it. He still couldn’t believe they they had gotten so lucky with that flight that had two seats left, perfect for him and Dan.

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A Haunting

Originally posted by whoeveryoulovethemost

This is for @huntingandwritingthings 500 Followers Celebration: SPN Cluedo Writing Challenge. I got the place, A manor living roomand the object ‘Chandelier’.

Characters: Y/n, Dean, Sam, OC Kim

Pairing: Dean x Y/n (FEMALE READER)

Warnings: Mostly angst, just angsty angst, Dean being a neglectful hubby and dad…terrified kid, haunting, scary shit…and a bit of fluff to end it all!!

Word count: 4509

Summary: Moving into a strangely affordable manor with your husband and daughter. What could go wrong?

A/N: Ok, so, my brain went weird with this and horror stuff happened. I don’t know if it’s actually scary, but I’m not a horror writer, so I don’t know how well it came across. Sorry for making Dean a shitty person…but I can kinda see him doing shit like this. I dunno. But I like it. Hope u like it!!

Tagged peeps: @waywardsons-imagines @whywhydoyouwantmetosaymyname @sallyp-53 @atkinsandrews @helvonasche @notnaturalanahi @wayward-mirage @riversong-sam @nerdflash @miss-miep @impala-dreamer @unknown-chronicles @chelsea072498 @deals-with-demons @plaidstiel-wormstache @impalaimagining @deathtonormalcy56 @the-latina-trickster @aingealcethlenn @squirrels-angels-and-moose @meganwinchester1999 @cubs2019-blog @lucifer-in-leather @straightestgay-voice @professsionalsinner @deantheotherkingofkinks @50shadesofyes @lucis-unicorn @kumaartz @whispersandwhiskerburn @lucibae-is-dancing-in-hell @colespriverdale @daddysxlittlexsunshine @atc74 @wonderange @becaamm @mogaruke @aiaranradnay @bloodstained-porcelain-doll @perry–aesthetic @akshi8278 @srj1990

Masterlist


“Daddy! I don’t like it!”

Dean sighed, looking down at Kim and smiling as best he could.

The move had been stressful.

Ever since Sam just up and left, everything had been a mess.

Dean had neglected both you and your daughter.

He took to drinking, while Sam was living it up in the city.

The house was no longer home to him. So he forced you to move.

You were against it.

Your daughter was against it.

But of course, if Dean made a decision, everyone had to fall in line, no matter what.

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Catch Me (Day 4)

Summary: In which a bet leads Bucky to have to catch you every day for a week, no matter what.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 1,530

A/N: I’m sorry for posting this so late, I was out all day but I still wanted to get this up for you amazing readers 

@avengerstories I am forever grateful to you for editing this at all hours of the day

Day 3

Originally posted by dailyevanstan

“I can’t believe the AC broke down.”

“I can’t believe that you managed to blow up the AC,” you counter. Tony flips you off and you respond by swimming over to him and splashing water in his face.

“I did not install a pool in this tower to be treated this way.” You chuckle and splash him again much to his exasperation and everyone else’s amusement. Before he can retaliate, you float over to the edge of the pool and climb out. “Come back in this pool and face me like a man!”

“I think you mean like a woman,” Natasha corrects from her position on a large floaty. “By taking the coward’s way out and getting out of the pool, she’s already acting like a man.” Raucous complaints come from all the men in the pool, but Natasha is too busy relaxing to pay them any mind.

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Lost Boy | TEN

Genre: peter pan!au | a wave of angst  | drops of fluffiness at the end

The star: Ten / Reader

Word count: 7 257 

A/N: I wrote this one based on a song I heard. Special thanks to Lauren, for correcting my one hundred and one faults. If there’s any grammatical mistake left, please forgive me. 

Synopsis : “You hurt me, Y/N.” He said, making the saddest face he could. “As you don’t remember, I’ll introduce myself again. Like twelve years ago.” He took a deep breath, closed his eyes for a moment and suddenly jumped on top of the bed, surprising you. “My name is Ten! I am the tenth lost boy!”

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Scribble-Doodle: The Weaver of Dreams

This is set after ep 210. It’s a Malec and Lightwood family feels story with a smidgen of parabatai feels. Longer than is usual for me, so please excuse all the mistakes, I’m exhausted.


Alec hasn’t always hated spiders.

As a little child, Alec saw spiders as weird looking creatures - alright, ugly, ugly creatures - but he didn’t see their weirdness or ugliness as a reason to fear or hate them. He was simply… respectfully wary of the hairy beasts.

And then…

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Just Another Prank (Ethan Dolan x Reader)

Summary: A (sort of) part two to ‘Just A Prank’. Grayson asks you to help him pull a prank on your boyfriend Ethan.

Warnings: Anger and shit I guess, swearing duh

Word Count: 1,350.

A/N: Posting this in celebration of 100 followers- thank you!!

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It Was Best That He Didn’t

Pairing: Anthony Ramos x Reader

Requested?: Nope but Rosie posted this drabble that set off this little lightbulb in my head so I cracked this out at like 3 am.

Summary: Anthony loved you. In all honesty, he still loves you but it was best that he didn’t. 

Words: 1.5k+

A/N: Blame Rosie for posting something sad and then causing this (love you Rosie!) I hope yall like this! It’s just a little somethin’ somethin’ for the freckled beauty that is Anthony Ramos! I got this idea and then realized Anthony needed some more love so, here we are! As always, thank you @helplesslylins for being the best beta ever! <3

Tags: @dysfunctionalfangirl , @icanneverbesatisfied , @catastrophiclimabean , @butlinislin, @daveeddiggsit , @nadialinett14 , @librarychild , @spidey-boii , @me-hoy-me-trash , @serkewen12 , @daveedish , @linmanuclmiranda , @autistic-alien , @runnerriley , @hamilsquad-writings


It wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk to you but it was best that he didn’t. Anthony sat in JFK, plane ticket in hand and heart heavy. You were never his to begin with so why did it hurt so much? 


“Anthony, you don’t have to feed me, you know that right?” You reminded him, taking the bag from his hands.

“I’m just bringing a friend breakfast because she consistently forgets to eat.” Anthony smiled, watching you open it and take out the breakfast sandwich.

“Thanks, what would I do without you?”

Anthony bit back his smile, turning around and going about his day with more pep in his step.


Anthony wanted to check his social media. He wanted nothing more than to see your face, even if you were smiling without him but he knew it was best that he didn’t. Instead, he turned his phone off. 


“Why do you insist on drinking so much Y/N?” Anthony sighed, his arm holding you steady as he walked you to your apartment.

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yuristigerstripes  asked:

things you said when you thought i was asleep - otayuri?

The movie played in the background while Yuri commentated away, his bare back against the headboard while his hands played with the soft duvet which covered the lower half of his body.

Beka had laid down and closed his eyes about two quarters into the movie and hummed every once in a while, not showing a lot of interest in either the film or Yuri’s comments, but that didn’t deter the blonde in the slightest. He just kept voicing his thoughts freely, feeling completely at ease in Otabek’s presence for the first time in a while.

Ever since they had started… crossing certain lines, blurring the edges of their friendship and where they stood, Yuri felt weird around Otabek. There was excitement, of course, since he got to experience a lot of firsts with Beka, but there was an added layer of insecurity that came with each new encounter.

Somehow, whenever they met, they ended up either kissing frantically in a bathroom stall in a shady club -it may or may not have happened more than once and they most definitely didn’t almost get recognised right outside, no, what are you talking about? Please, they know better than that- or in one of their hotel rooms, limbs tangled together and giggling.

That was what brought on the excitement, the newness of it all made Yuri feel alive, made his heart thump like crazy and his skin buzz, as if his body were physically unable to contain how utterly happy he was with Otabek by his side.

But then, when Otabek ultimately fell asleep despite his best efforts to stay awake watching Yuri, talking to him or kissing him, Yuri’s mind wandered, screaming at him each and every single doubt he had regarding their relationship.

Why was Otabek doing this with him? He could’ve easily picked anyone else -there were volunteers everywhere, and Yuri had heard some of the most insane propositions Otabek had got over the years- but, he chose Yuri. His best friend.

And what did that even mean?

Was it because Yuri was closest and available at the time? Did Otabek just feel comfortable with him? Did it mean something else beyond the obviously raw desire to feel connected to another person? Why? Why did he have to choose Yuri?

The usual tears filled his eyes as those thoughts invaded him, taking over the happiness he had felt just a second ago as if it hadn’t even existed in the first place.

“It’s not that I’m unhappy, you know?” he mumbled, not fully aware of his mouth moving and voicing his innermost fears. “It’s just that… I don’t get it? Why me? Of all people?”

He chanced a glance at Otabek, his body still moving up and down slowly as he breathed peacefully, and Yuri sniffled as he, too, abandoned his sitting position, his head resting on Otabek’s pillow, the tears falling freely.

“Because,” Beka started saying as he turned around on the spot, facing Yuri’s stunned expression, “you’re amazing.”

One of Otabek’s hand came out from underneath the covers to wipe Yuri’s tears away, as Yuri just stared, swallowing and willing his heart to dislodge itself from his throat.

“B-Beka, how long have you be-?” Yuri tried to ask, but Otabek stopped him with a soft brush of lips. “Beka?” he sounded breathless despite how chaste the kiss was.

“The entire time,” Otabek laughed a little, relaxed as his eyes roamed Yuri’s face. “You were mumbling to yourself for a while… I think you said something about your heart beating like crazy and your skin buzzing with excitement?”

“Oh, no, I said all of that out loud too?!” Yuri almost screeched, burying his face in his hands.

Otabek just smiled and hugged Yuri tight against his chest, dropping multiple kisses to his forehead, temple and hair.

“Yura, I hope you realise just how much you mean to me,” he pushed Yuri back gently so that they could see each other. “I’m sorry you felt confused or uneasy but, just know that I love you, I have for the longest time. Please, never doubt that.”

His eyes were so earnest and his voice was slightly strained and Yuri knew he didn’t need to worry about anything. They leaned forwards at the same time, the kiss lazy and languid.

“Do you really mean that?” Yuri asked when they finally separated, his lips ghosting over Otabek’s as he spoke.

“Cross my hearts.”

Yuri moved his head back and narrowed his eyes at Otabek.

“Was that a fucking Doctor Who reference?”

“Yeap,” Otabek told him, giving him a toothy grin when Yuri groaned.

“Remind me why I love you again?” he said, not expecting an answer, and got up to go to the bathroom. He still needed to brush his teeth.

“Well, first, you love my face. I remember you complimenting me when we took a picture together before the gala at World’s the year we met, or rather, met again-”

“Oh, my God!” Yuri ran into the bathroom and made a show of slamming the door as Otabek’s laughter echoed off the walls of their hotel room.

He almost didn’t recognise the stupidly happy smile on his own face when he looked in the mirror a second later.


I hope you enjoyed it, @yuristigerstripes! ^^

- Want to request something? Send me a number plus a show and ship and I’ll write a mini fic! –> Criminal Minds, YOI, BNHA (TodoDeku) or Haikyuu!! (KageHina)