is the mouth when fully open

anonymous asked:

Hello! It's the apex predator!Lothalian au anon again. What if when Ezra first met the Ghost crew he was trying to hide what he was? Like using eye contact to hide slit pupils/reflective eyes, dirt or make-up to cover up skin markings, and not opening his mouth fully. How do you think they found out? Thanks for making headcanons for this ridiculous au.

Well, would the majority of Lothalians not be this species?  If so, would the Empire be oppressing and replacing them with human colonists?  That would give Ezra reason to try and be human-passing….

I don’t know where he’d get contact lenses on the street, and I was assuming his eyes weren’t too different (because his eyes are lovely :P), but yes to the rest!

If he’s quiet, grubby and slower than he’d like to be; no one thinks he’s anything except some (filthy) human kid.  He can lift credits from the people who don’t suspect he’s Lothalian, but those that do suspect sometimes try to break his fingers or jaw!

So he is what he is, and tries to hide it away.

Honestly, everyone on the Ghost crew worked it out quickly, each in their own way!

  • Hera had done her research beforehand about the planet, and guessed Ezra was native straight away
  • Sabine spotted Ezra’s markings even before he was made to shower properly, and  worked out the meaning
  • Kanan saw Ezra either couldn’t keep down or digest most vegetables
  • Zeb smelt the difference, pretty much instantly
  • No one told Chopper, who’s a bit bitter he wasn’t informed

Ezra being comfortable enough to actually tell them was still a big deal, though.  It wasn’t just jedi training and a family structure (in this AU), but being able to be Lothalian without fear that truly let him begin to become his best self.

Jealousy Games 01

Description: You decide to play a game of push and pull with your ex Jungkook, bringing Jimin along for the ride. 

Pairing: JungkookxReaderxJimin

Genre: Smut (M)

Word Count: 8.4k

Index: 01, 02, 03

Warnings: breath play, dom!Jimin, lots and lots of filth.

A/N: This is chapter one of… well, I don’t know. @ellieljade and I just keep brainstorming more and more for this sucker. To the point of us joking about finishing this when we’re in our 90′s….. Anyway. I hope you enjoy. I’ll be working on part two for Room for Dessert and The Guest House soon.

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Obey (Sub!Jimin Smut)

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Genre: Smut (Mother Mary help)

Warnings: SMUT DEAR GOD SMUT, dirty talk, Sub!Jimin, Dom!Reader, orgasm denial, overstimulation, ass play, swearing, bondage

Word Count: 5586

Wow okay so I read @seokvie‘s and @btssmutgalore‘s sub!Jimin fics and they inspired me to write my own. I’m decently proud of this, considering I have 0 experience writing something like this. Thank you to @jin-oppa for gushing about this topic with me and @fortheloveofsuga for just being a good person in general.


Many would look at your boyfriend’s sharp jaw, thickly muscled thighs, and chiseled face and assume that he was dominant in bed. Rough, even. Jimin did, indeed, carry himself with straight shoulders and his head held high–long legs carrying him confidently across the room as his dark eyes zeroed in on something in the distance. He would present you out in public as if you were a work of art, his thick hand pressed into the small of your back and his full lips grazing your temple. If ever any other man raked their eyes down your body, his warm eyes would harden to stony obsidian orbs–either lowering his hand to rest on your ass or keeping direct eye contact with the potential threat as he brushed his lips across the expanse of your neck. Your boyfriend dominated you in romance, indeed. But you had a secret.

Park Jimin was not dominant in the bedroom.

He would occasionally play the dom role, his jaw clenching and nostrils flaring as he rammed into you from behind–leanly muscled chest pressed against your back as he leaned over you to growl obscenities in your ear through gritted teeth. When he was angry, he would pull your hair and bring you so close to the edge that you could feel yourself beginning to tip over, just before he would yank you back again. But that was only when he was so furious that he was seeing red.

Most of the time, he preferred to wholeheartedly submit himself to you. He thrived off of your praise, the little phrase “Good boy” nearly flinging him off the edge and into an orgasm any time you breathed the words into his hair. He loved to be tied up, and teased, and spanked until he was begging you to let him cum. He adored it when you tortured him with sucking on his cock long past he was finished, the mixture of pain and pleasure drawing him nearer to yet another release.

It wasn’t always so extreme, but there were nights when he needed to be controlled and you needed to control him.

Tonight was one of those nights.

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A Pile Of Sticky Notes (Richie Tozier x Reader)

Richie Tozier x Fem!Reader

*Please don’t plagiarize my work, thank you :3*

Summary: You and Richie had a thing going, and by ‘thing’ you mean rivalry. On the outside you hate him with all your might, but secretly you’ve been slipping love notes into his locker and praying no one ever sees you. Knowing your rotten luck, the person who catches you in the act is the one person you never wanted to be caught by. 

Warnings: Cussing, because it’s Richie… Obviously. Also kissing an’ shit, and this was requested by @ireland37, who wrote their own series based off the idea. Check it out!

Word Count: 1,304


“Is it hard to be this stupid, or does it come naturally?”

Richie snorted and, grinning widely, raised his middle finger at you. You didn’t notice the red tint to his face every time the two of you argued and he never knew that your chest wanted to explode whenever he insulted you, which was odd, but it happened anyway. Whether or not he had a comeback, you enjoyed the banter.

“If you want to talk about things that come naturally then you should see me in bed.” He fires back, crumpling paper into a ball and throwing it at you. You ducked and frowned, craning your neck to look at him. You were about to say something but the teacher walked in and shushed the class, and you were forced to turn back to the front.

Halfway through the boring class, you heard a quiet ‘thwip’ sound and felt something hit the back of your head. Your hand darted up to feel your hair, pulling a tiny ball of crumpled paper out of the locks. It was, to your absolute disgust, slimy.

“Bleh! That’s disgusting!”

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Borrowed Time

The series where Harry is mute

Part 1

Masterlist linked in bio


Y/n never went back home. Instead, she spends winter break in the confines of Harry’s apartment—wrapped up in between his bedsheets to keep warm.

The usually cold and brutal winter that always made their skin numb is now warm to them—skin always accompanied by one another’s and feeling more than ever before. And with the mix of never ending company and the feel of the music that always seems to be playing in his apartment, they couldn’t have asked for a better way to start off their relationship.

They never do anything extravagant—never do anything that could take time away from one another. It’s in their simplicity do they find a sense of comfort throughout the festive season. They feel happiest in their own little world—away from everything and everyone, just focusing on them being together without any distractions.

With being so consumed by one another, they’ve learned more about each other than ever before—spending most days watching their favorite movies and baking new recipes they found in Harry’s favorite Christmas cookbook and spending the nights cuddled up against one another as Y/n somehow finds new things to talk about.

Each day, they fall in love with each other all over again. It’s as if their hearts unravel and trap each other in—giving them no means of escape, but neither of them want to.

Whenever she spends the night at his apartment, Harry has to spend nearly an hour each morning just to fight her from getting out of bed. It’s become a routine, Harry having to pull her from the edge of the bed so that he can cradle her back in his arms while she giggles and mumbles some excuses he doesn’t have the energy to listen to.

He just really, really, really loves the feel of her first thing in the morning, especially when the brutal feel of the blistering winds finds its way to his apartment. She’s much warmer than usual and her eyes are brighter and always glistened against the sun. Her lips, too—they are always so much fuller somehow that even in his mild awareness, he finds himself kissing them before he finally lets her slip away from the comfort of the sheets.

But this morning—this morning is different.

After a Christmas night filled with passion and inexperienced intimacy, Harry really doesn’t want to let her go. He’d much rather feel her uncovered body up against his all morning—soaking each other up and holding one another until the sun sets into the night.

It just sounds so right, to keep each other near and close after giving each other their last bit of innocence. Everything they had to offer one another was taken and used to make them whole, so that’s how they should be—together and whole for as long as they possibly can.

But when Harry feels Y/n begin to stir her way out of his arms, he knows she has very different plans.

And he’s just not having it.

He whimpers in his slumbered state, pulling her back against his chest with eyes half-lidded and breathing still steady. He’s holding onto her like never before, refusing to feel her side of the bed empty. He needs her, her, her, anywhere and everywhere as long as it’s with him. And despite having every bit of her last night, he hasn’t gotten enough and he needs her more.

She giggles softly against his neck, gingerly kissing the exposed skin as her fingers run along his jaw. She can already feel him falling back asleep from her touch, a content sigh leaving his lips at their closeness.

“Love, I gotta get up. Y’know me, can’t stay in bed once I’m awake.”

He groans as he shakes his head, somehow filling up the smallest of empty spaces between them and tucking his head into her shoulder. His nose is right up against her skin and he can smell her usual scent—vanilla and lavender from her usual body wash but much more filthy than usual.

She giggles again when she feels his bottom lip poke at her shoulder, her fingers reaching to his hair as she combs through it.

“Oh, none of that, H.” She tisks, thumbing the very exaggerated pout on his lips. “I’ll be right downstairs, won’t be going anywhere far.”

He rolls his body off of her, his back hitting against the mattress with a whine. His eyes remain closed but there’s a very noticeable furrow between his brows, and Y/n begins to wonder what he’s so worried about.

She frowns down at him, observing the rise of his goosebumps from the morning cold on his bare chest. It looks empty and lifeless without her head upon it, and though his body is no stranger to her, there’s something about it that seems much more inviting and she yearns to keep it closer than ever.

And she gets it—she gets his exaggerated whining and the worry in his eyes. After everything that happened to them the night before, he can’t leave her—he can't—and that’s exactly what she’s doing to him, even if it’s only a floor away.

Almost as if to reassure him, she goes with the feel of her heart and decides to spend the next couple hours of the freezing morning right beside him.


Harry loves watching Y/n in her most natural hours.

Her chest and elbows are leaning against the surface of the kitchen counter, one hand holding a mug of coffee while the other flips the pages of her favorite poetry book. Her upper body is clad with Harry’s favorite sweatshirt—ending right at the end of her underwear—leaving her legs exposed and on full display for all of Harry to see.

Despite her hair fully knotted and having an overall disheveled look to her, Harry decides that she looks best this way—in a way nobody other than him has gotten the chance to see—as if she was made for his eyes only.

And he has never seen such a beautiful sight in his life as she looks at him with the softest and most delicate of eyes, a small smile resting on her lips at his presence. Every bit of her looks inviting—like a place of comfort Harry could forever shield himself in.

She’s become so much more than his girlfriend—so much more than someone to call his own—she’s become his muse and his home, his haven and everything in between.

“You always look at me with longing even when I’m right here with you.”

He blinks at her, watching as her cheeks flush with pink under the watch of his amused eyes, loving how easily tranced he becomes in her.

She’s never been confident in herself. Ever since she was a little girl, she used her friendliness to somehow distract people from what she truly felt on the inside. She never truly touched base with her insecurities and never wanted to, so she always found ways to push the most damaging thoughts in the back of her head.

But Harry changed everything. He made her feel beautiful and loved in every way possible, she almost doesn’t understand how he could have so much of that love in him—especially for her. From the way he holds her all throughout the night to the small kisses and gestures whenever he has the chance, she feels it everywhere and she almost feels it in herself.

His sheepish smile confirms her statement, knowing fully that there will never be a moment he doesn’t want her, no matter where she is.

He walks slowly over to her, the smile never fading from his lips and the blush creeping back to Y/n’s cheeks as she turns her body to stretch her arms out at him. It’s the smallest moments like this that make them grateful for the kind of love they share—together.

He presses his lips to hers tenderly when he feels her fingers run across his stomach, his own fingers pushing the material of his sweatshirt up towards her breasts so that he can brush against the swell of them.

“Beautiful.” He whispers, quickly returning back to her lips as they softly release a whimper from the detachment.

She tastes so good—a mix of bitter and sweet from her coffee, leaving his mouth wanting more and more with each passing second. And what was supposed to be innocent turned to lust before they knew it—their movements much more haste and impatient.

In the midst of their desperation, Harry pushes her hips further against the edge of the counter, fingers digging into her skin as his mouth parts open with hers. They both moan into one another, completely consumed by the feeling of their relentless hands and feverish kisses.

Her hands are against his stomach, rubbing along his torso when he hitches her legs around his waist, leaving Harry in control of whatever it is that’s unfolding. Her squeal turns into a moan when his hips collide with hers, the friction making her head spin and body yearn for more.

He feels her hands creep toward the waistband of his sweatpants while his hands bundle up the sweatshirt over her breasts so that they’re fully exposed to him—revealing the most delicate parts of her.

And right as his lips attach to the valley of them, the ringing of the telephone breaks them from their moment.

“H—Harry, the phone.” Y/n gasps.

But he shows no sign of stopping when his teeth sink into an already bruised hickie from the night before, leaving her with shaking fingers between his hair and withering from the soreness. And he really can’t stop, because she feels like no other and she’s so addicting in every way possible. He wants her all to himself.

The answering machine almost dissolves into pure background noise for the both of them, too caught up in the moment.

“Hi, Harry, it’s your mum.”

Only five words and Harry feels the air being knocked right out of his lungs—seizing all his movements and thoughts as Y/n is left completely confused and panting upon the kitchen counter.

"I know it’s been a while and a lot has ended quite messy, but your father does miss you and well—we all miss you, Harry. We would really love for you to come over for dinner tonight as a late Christmas celebration. You don’t have to, but we’ll have an extra seat for you. And—uh—I love you so much. I wish you the best. Please call me soon.”

It’s as if the world around him is spinning faster than ever before—his brain overwhelmed with scrambled thoughts and ears ringing from the anxiety.

There would have been nothing to prepare him for this moment. He never thought he’d ever see his father again—much less be invited back over to his house after everything that’s happened. It’s been so long, he genuinely thought it was over—he thought all of the pain and fear was over, but his biggest nightmare is coming to life and he feels sick to his stomach.

His father is why he’s like this—mute and anxious in social situations. If his dad hadn’t repeatedly torn him down for never being good enough—hadn’t made him believe nobody would ever talk to a little shy boy—he would have probably gained the confidence to speak the more he matured.

But because his father shunned him for being shy and never making any friends, Harry was terrified of what people would think of him if he ever did make friends. Because if his own father didn’t love him, how could anybody else?

Y/n notices the tears in his eyes and his shallow breathing, which she’s quick to mend when her hands reach up to his cheeks. They’re hot and flushed, but all for the wrong reasons.

She frowns, lips peppering small kisses along his face in an attempt to bring him back to her. She doesn’t know much—or really anything—about Harry’s family life; all she knows is that she has never seen a picture of them in his house or any validation that he ever truly had one.

But as she catches the glimpse of fear in his eyes and the small quivering of his lips, he knows very well that there must have been something that went wrong. And even if she doesn’t know what it is that he went through, she knows that if he decides to do this or not, she’ll be right there with him.

“You’re scared.” She whispers, thumbs rubbing against his cheeks softly. “What is it you’re afraid of, baby? Talk to me, please.”

He squeezes his eyes shut, his lips pursing together as loose tears fall from his eyes.

He’s never talked about his family problems and because all of this has happened so quickly, his words get trapped in his throat. To genuinely talk about his family and come to terms with his emotions seems all too much for him, especially when it’s hard for him to speak in the first place.

Y/n clicks her tongue while shaking her head softly, wrapping her around his neck as he nests his cheek into her shoulder. His muscles instantly relax in her arms and has a sense of clarity in her comfort, but there’s still an undeniable thumping in his chest that just can’t seem to go away.

“You don’t have to talk about this, love, but maybe this will be good for you. You know, to test the waters with your family. Maybe this could help you in the long run.”

And he wants to believe her—he really, really fucking wants to believe her—but he knows he can’t. Anywhere in his father’s path is detrimental to Harry’s social anxiety and he knows it’ll only make this worse for him in the long run.

“Y/n.” Harry groans, detaching her arms from his neck so that he can stand properly. His teeth are grit and eyes are distant—looking anywhere but her own and he swallows thickly around his words. “There’s a reason I don’t talk to anybody.”

His words are cracked and desperate—like a plea for Y/n to understand that this is different, that there will never be a day he’ll be able to face his problems. There have been too many times he’s found his way back and he always walks away with a damaged heart.

Y/n watches the way his fingers fiddle around one another and how he can’t stand still, it’s like watching the battle in Harry’s head and watching him fall apart from it.

And no matter how much she loves him now—the way he is now, even without much speaking—she doesn’t want to watch him suffer for the rest of his life. He’s the most undeserving man, he deserves the world and she knows he does.

His heart is nothing but pure and damaged—in need of mending and love. It’s the best part of him, really. It’s what brought them together and she feels the need to protect it at all costs.

He doesn’t feel it, though. He doesn’t feel what his heart has to offer and doesn’t see how it makes him so strong. He only sees himself as a ruin—a lost cause with nothing left to fight for, and he doesn’t deserve it. After what he’s been through, she needs him to understand that he is so much more than he thinks he is.

Because he is—he really is—no matter what he believes.

She holds his head in her hands to distract him from his consuming thoughts. His eyes shift in her gaze as he lets out a small breath.

“I just think it’ll be best to try again. I know—I see how hard it is for you to live the way that you do and I want to be here for you through everything. Things could be different this time—things could actually end well and you might be able to push through this. Because I know you, Harry, more than anybody else right now and I know you can push through this.”

She presses her forehead against his with a sigh leaving her lips, her thumbs running along his knuckles.

“And if there is any point you feel uncomfortable or upset, we can walk right out and leave. Just know that I will be there for you no matter what, okay? Just asking for you to try.”

It’s because she sounds so sure of herself that Harry actually agrees to go to the dinner. He knows that if it were a matter of him going alone, he would never even consider it. But knowing she is going to be right by his side—holding his hand through it all—maybe he doesn’t have to be so scared.

Maybe, it’ll actually be different this time.


It’s not different.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, it’s really not any different than he expected it to be.

Upon their arrival, Harry’s mum and sister nearly fainted from seeing him at the front door. They thought their invitation would go dismissed, like the way Harry’s ignored them for the past three years. But looking at him for the first time in what felt like forever, they were nothing short of thrilled.

And to make it even better, he brought a girl. Harry was holding her hand tightly, keeping her tucked right into his side so that he could feel her with every step he took.

Anne and Gemma swore they had never seen something so heartwarming in their life—to the point where tears sprung from their eyes and arms flinging around their bodies. Y/n didn’t even have to introduce herself properly for them to love and approve of her, anybody who gets Harry to open up—in any way possible—is enough for them.

He was calm when it was just the four of them, Harry watching Y/n hit it off with his family so effortlessly. He noticed the fondness in all their eyes and this was how he wanted it to be forever.

But once they sat down for dinner, Harry knew something was about to happen.

His father didn’t acknowledge neither him nor Y/n in the slightest. Instead, he acted as if they weren’t there and only carried conversations with the rest of his family. And Harry wasn’t sure if he preferred it that way or not—wasn’t sure if he’d rather have his father at least notice him and hate him or have his father neglect him.

Y/n was trying to make the best out of the situation and he could tell. She found her way to the conversations even if his father didn’t respond to her, and still remained her perky self while doing so. She seemed unfazed through it all, almost like she didn’t feel the overwhelming amount of tension that surrounded the room.

She does it for him, though. She knew that if she showed just how uncomfortable his father was making her—he’d never be able to survive this dinner. She had to play strong enough for his sake.

But now that dinner has passed by and all that’s left are empty plates of food and mindless mingling, Harry feels nothing short of uncomfortable and misplaced under his father’s glare. It’s as if he’s waiting for Harry to speak out in the conversation, or do much of anything to make his presence known.

Y/n can see the soft shaking of Harry’s head and can feel the sweat on his palms with each passing second—just waiting for the end of the night so that they can go home and be alone at last.

“You know, Y/n, I never thought Harry would have a girlfriend.”

It’s the first time tonight his father spoke to Y/n directly, making the conversation she was having with Gemma come to a pause as she looked over at him with confusion. There’s a small pout on her lips as she tilts her head in question, almost unsure as to what he was implying. He has no expression on his face, only a small scoff and disapproving look in his eyes.

“How so? He’s lovely, any girl would be very lucky to have him. I’m just happy it’s me who does.”

Her fingers squeeze his thigh under the tablecloth; as if to tell him that there’s nothing to worry about. If his father wants to try hard enough to get to Harry, he has to try to get through her, first.

His father grumbles, his eyes shifting away from hers. The tenseness is his body seems to lighten, though, when an almost sadistic laugh falls from his lips—finding whatever he’s thinking quite amusing and entertaining.

“Isn’t it disheartening? Doesn’t it get boring, to be with a little boy who can’t even get his mouth to open? You seem to be a very intelligent, mature lady—I can tell by the way you talk. Don’t you think it’s a man’s purpose to be with somebody like you?”

Harry squeezes his eyes shut, trying to silence the sudden voices in his head and focus on the feel of Y/n’s tightening hand.

All the childhood fights, all the times Harry had crawled underneath his bed during the night to get away from it all, and all the times Harry almost had the guts to speak up for himself only to be shut down from his father are all replaying in Harry’s head.

The anxiety creeps to his bones and in his muscles, straining him of all that’s left of his strength and leaving him with nothing but a shaking body and lack of control. Every part of him that felt alive before all of this is slowly dying at the seems—ready to be ripped out on his father’s account.

In any other situation, Y/n would have kept her mouth shut if it meant getting the support and approval of Harry’s family. But this—the way he’s talking about Harry as if he’s not right next to her, disrespecting him for something beyond his control is just not okay with her.

She’d rather stand up for the man she loves and believes in instead of watching him suffer in silence—the way his mum and sister are—with fear.

“Harry may not be a man of many words, but he’s the best thing I’ve got. There is so much more to him than his voice. There is so much more to him than you will ever know because you decided to be a shit father and give up on him without giving him a chance. He holds so much more potential than you could ever see, and that’s what’s wrong here. Harry’s not the problem, him being mute is not the problem, it’s you. Because why is it that everybody else can accept him and love him for who he is besides you?!”

The aftermath of her words silences everything around them. Nobody moves, nobody dares makes a sound besides their harsh breathing, because there could be something that makes either one of them snap and nobody wants to be the one to do so.

Y/n’s hands are in fists upon the table, eyes locked with his in fury and jaw so tight she almost doesn’t even look like herself. She’s turned into an entirely different woman with just the thought of Harry getting into harm’s way.

And although Harry really wants to show her appreciation for her words, he’s too panicked that he’s going to die from not being able to fucking breathe.

The silence is overwhelming, but Y/n is not giving up on him—on Harry. He had to live through this for far too long and she’s not allowing it anymore. He deserves better than this treatment—deserves better than to be looked down upon by somebody who’s supposed to be his provider.

“He’s the best thing you’ve got, yeah?”

His father is playing with his bottom lip, eyes narrowed and eyes in the same unpleasant manner as before. His voice is softer, though, more understanding than before and they both don’t know what to expect out of the conversation.

Y/n nods without hesitation, “He is.”

He watches as Y/n looks more determined and positive as ever, not a doubt or a trace of a lie in her features.

She means it—with her whole heart—she means it and she’ll never let anybody make her go back on her word. And she doesn’t have to say it twice, because Harry knows she’s genuine when she says it.

“You must have a very pathetic life, then.”

Harry’s eyes don’t move from their trance on the table—his body doesn’t make a move under his words. This is just how it always ends, and he just don’t know why he still fucking comes back here every goddamn time.

His throat is tight and his eyes are filled with tears. His skin is full of sweat and he swears his heart is beating much faster than it should. And even though he’s experienced this all before, knowing Y/n is being belittled by his father too makes it worse.

"We’re done here.” Y/n says sternly, grabbing ahold of Harry’s hand.

Y/n could have stood up for Harry much more, but she knew that if she started an even bigger brawl than what was already unfolding, Harry wouldn’t have been able to handle it.

He’s already drained of color and crying silently within his lost mind, and she’s absolutely terrified for his health.

She’s nearly dragging him out the door, Harry occasionally tripping over his own feet as he’s being drowned with the voices and the thumping in his chest. The world around him seems to be drowning and he can’t keep up with it all.

He just can’t.

“You can’t only keep her around because she’s the only one that’ll fight your battles for you, Harry! It’s only a matter of time before she realizes that you have nothing to offer her! You can’t give her anything with the way you are. You’re worthless!”

Before he could spew any more insults in Harry’s way, Y/n shuts the door in his face.


Harry knows his father was right.

In the long run, he doesn’t have much to offer her. He can’t be the boyfriend that she deserves to have.

He can’t be the boyfriend that can remind her of how much she’s loved or cared for. He can’t be the boyfriend to sing her to sleep whenever she can’t, or be the boyfriend to say his vows at their wedding for all to hear. He can’t be the boyfriend that—God forbid something were to happen to her—can ask for somebody to help her, or be the boyfriend to sway her family’s heart.

He can’t be anything to her besides somebody that she can sleep with at night and wake up to in the morning. Because that’s all it will be, and she’ll get so tired of being the one to be the only one talking to the other.

He’s nothing in her life, and that’s exactly why he can’t look at her anymore.

“Can you please just say something to me, Harry? I need to know why you’re upset with me or else we can never work through this.”

But how can they work through this when he can’t talk to her the way she wants him to?

Instead of answering right away, Harry presses on the gas pedal even harder than before. In the mix of all his emotions—anger, frustration, sad, and absolutely terrified—the only proper thought that can retain in Harry’s mind is dropping Y/n back to her apartment so that she doesn’t have to keep torturing herself with him.

The longer he feels her presence next to him, the more he realizes that he can’t love her the way she deserves to be loved—even if he really, really, really does love her with every ounce of his being.

“It was only—“ He swallows thickly, “It was only a matter of time before this was going to happen, Y/n.”

Her eyebrows furrow in confusion as she turns her head over to Harry, who has his lips pursed in a straight line while his eyes remain on the road.

There’s something different in him, now—something unreadable in his expressions and it’s something she’s never seen before. He seems broken somehow, like a man who’s been damaged one too many times that he’s become numb—emotionless with nothing left to feel.

“Before what was going to happen, Harry?”

She has an idea about what his words meant, but she doesn’t want to believe it. Not coming from him—not coming from the man who’s shown her nothing but how much love he has for her. There’s no way he could be doing this to her. He can’t do this to her.

“We were never going to last, Y/n. This was over long ago, we’re just on borrowed time.”

Borrowed time.

The sound of it leaves an unusually disturbing churn in Y/n’s stomach and a foul taste in her mouth. She feels as though Harry is taking his own hand and digging into Y/n’s chest, just so that he can grab ahold of Y/n’s heart and rip it to shreds himself.

Her hand subconsciously grabs onto the handle of the car door, eyes glistening with tears and lungs not daring to breathe. The air—instead of it being filled with their love—is now thicker and colder than ever.

She’s never been so confused—so lead on and so scared as to what is happening to them. They were supposed to make this last, they were supposed to make each other happy for the rest of their lives. He promised her he would, too—promised her nothing but love and trust in him.

But what is happening to them?

“How long have you thought that?”

She was tentative to ask, but she just has to know. She has to know if she’s done everything she’s done for nothing or if it actually held some sort of purpose at the time.

She’s terrified beyond words to find out the answer.

“Before or after you decided to sleep with me?”

Harry doesn’t want to make it seem like he never wanted this—never wanted her. He doesn’t want to make her think that he went through all that he did with her just to expect them to break up so soon. Because he didn’t, he never did. He would have never let her give him her virginity if he knew all of this was going to happen.

He loves her too much to do that to her, but also loves her enough to set her free.

So he decides to not answer her because not saying anything at all is easier for him than saying something he doesn’t mean. And he knows he will if it means letting her go and letting her move onto bigger and better things.

And it’s in his silence and twitch of his eyes does she find his answer.

“So you didn’t mean what you said last night. That we fit perfectly—that it’s like we’re meant to be? Or were they just words to you?”

A sob rips from inside of her when he still gives her nothing. She has never felt so hurt before—has never felt so betrayed. And suddenly, her skin feels dirty—sickened by what he’s done to her and how she could have been so stupid as to let it happen.

She feels it now, too. She feels the way his hands touched her that night, the way his lips kissed her that night, the way his hips rutted against hers and she feels so fucking filthy—used and used and used just for his own personal gain.

“Stop the car.”

It’s a weak demand, but Harry is pained to hear it. He has to hold himself back from comforting her and saying how terribly sorry he is for lying to her the way he is. But it’s just easier this way.

“I said stop the fucking car, Harry!”

Her yelling makes him flinch, and without hesitation makes him pull over to the side of the road. And the second he does so, he knows he shouldn’t have because he’d never be able to live with himself if he let Y/n walk in the cold alone, especially at night.

And right as he’s about to turn back, the sound of her hysteria makes his stop everything he’s doing. Her sobs are relentless in her hands and the thickest of tears fall from Harry’s eyes when he looks at the damage he’s done.

She looks helpless and utterly destroyed—he would have never thought of doing this to her if he’d known this is what would come out of it.

His heart is breaking at the sight of her like this.

As if on instinct, Harry reaches his hand over to her shoulder in an attempt to keep her calm. And even when they’re so close, they have never felt more emotionally distant than they do right now.

“No! Don’t touch me! Don’t you ever touch me again!”

She isn’t sure if she means it or not, but the devastating look Harry gives her at her words proves that he knows she did.

The second his touch leaves hers, he feels them falling apart.

It really is over now.

She’s never felt more pathetic and humiliated in her life. Everything she thought was so real ended up being one of the biggest lies she’s ever lived. He had her fooled for months now and she had not a single clue—but she guesses that’s what happens when she falls in love too quickly.

She feels easy.

She swallows her cries as she opens the car door, not knowing where the hell she is or where the hell she’s going, but knowing that no matter where she ends up, it’ll be much better than being with him. 

“I hate you. I never want to see you again, not after this. Not after all that you’ve done to me.”

Harry’s eyes widen at her words, mouth falling open and a gasp falling from his lips. The reality of her words hits him with so much force that he genuinely feels every last bit of him fall apart.

And it’s when she walks away from him—from his life—that he breaks.

He chokes out a sob as his fingers grip the steering wheel, eyes as wide as ever and mouth not daring to shut.

Everything hurts. Every bone in his body feels like it’s breaking and every muscle feels like they’re tearing apart. It hurts so fucking much and Harry can’t stop crying, throwing his head back against the car seat as his hand hits the steering wheel in the midst of his hysteria.

She hates him.

But it’s better this way.

ao3 link


Yuuri is in the kitchen when he hears Victor call it out in question. They had just finished up supper and Victor had cooked so Yuuri was in the kitchen washing up the dishes to return the favor. And he’s just standing by the dishwasher, humming idly and wondering if Victor has picked out a movie for them to watch or if tonight is going to be a night where they watch game shows featuring Victor yelling out the answers that can actually be correct on occasion. It had been a long day at the rink and Yuuri even wonders if maybe they’ll have a nice glass of wine before bed.

So, Yuuri is just minding his own business, not thinking twice when Victor calls out his name. He hums back, expecting a question or statement about leftovers but then…

“What’s yaoi?”

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Testing Theories - Smut

Originally posted by wydobrien

Author: @dumbass-stilinski
Rating: NSFW 18+
Pairing: Stiles Stilinski/Reader
Words: 1,067
AN: Sorry I’ve been MIA, I got sick last week at a show and I haven’t felt great since. It’s your typical stuffy nose, coughing, sneezing cold but it’s kicking my ass. I’m sorry this is short, I just needed a little Stiles PWP. Also, the above GIF makes me want to straddle him and push his shirt up and rub his back cause fuck man, he looks so tense I hate it.

Special thanks to @writing-obrien as usual and also to @sarcasticallystilinski​! She read this for me when I was afraid it didn’t make sense cause my brain was all fuzzy. xoxo


There was this small moment in the mornings, right before Stiles would wake up, that was your favorite. He looked so innocent and boyish while he slept, his face peaceful, without the usual worry lines creasing his forehead. You liked to watch him snore quietly, his mouth partially opened, face dusted with moles and slight stubble. He was a beautiful looking guy, and you knew you were lucky to call him yours.

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Returning the Favor

Characters: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: The next morning (after the events of “Beard Burn”), Steve’s girlfriend returns the favor ;)))

A/N: this is intended as the sequel to Beard Burn! Yay! Look i finished something that i promised i would do! Thanks again all you beautiful people for getting “Beard Burn” over 1k notes.  That’s crazy,,,

Warnings: all smut, some fluff.  oral sex (mr), language

Words: 2260

tags: @feelmyroarrrr @sistasarah-sallysaidso @daybreak96 @doct0rstrange @trade-baby-blues @yourtropegirl @lipstickandwhiskey @captainumeboshi @emily-james-barnes

also: @bkwrm523 you seemed excited about this ;)

and @daughterofthebrowncoats i dk i just tag you in everything and this is blowjobs ;)

Read Part One Here

(I should have used this gif for the first one dammit)


The next morning, you wake before Steve, eyes fluttering open against the annoying morning sun; you’d forgotten to close the blinds last night.  You groan and roll over onto your back, hitting Steve, who immediately wraps an arm around your stomach.  You glance up at him, expecting to find him awake, but he’s still fast asleep on his side, one arm bunched under his pillow, the other now lazily thrown across your stomach.  You smile and reach a hand up to run through his beard.  He looked so cute like this, his mouth open, lightly snoring, eyes squeezed shut against the sun.

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Body Language (One Shot)

A/N: This was a request from @ihavetwobuckystomyname a very long time ago, and I’m super sorry that this took so long to write, hun! I hope you enjoy it! There’s a song that goes to this as well and it’s right here if you wanna listen!

Body Language - Reader and Bucky have been in a relationship for a while, and she’s ready to take the relationship to the next level. But Reader has a small problem: she’s deaf. 

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Deaf Reader 

Warnings: Smut. Language. Slight mentions of past neglect. Bucky being adorable. NSFW!

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anonymous asked:

Ugh best!friend Harry kills me. We need to talk about him more.

Can you imagine best friend!harry being your first kiss tho.

You confess to him one random night that you haven’t been kissed yet and he laughs at first because he thinks you’re joking, but then realizes you’re being serious and just shrugs casually and goes, “I mean, I could kiss you, if you want.”

And you give him a bewildered glance as he sits in front of you on your bed, legs crossed under him as he leans back on the palms of his hands, staring at you with his head tilted slightly to the side and his lips twitching in amusement.

“I dunno, Har. Wouldn’t that be kind of…weird?”

He scrunches his eyebrows, the corners of his mouth turning down into a frown. “How so?”

“Well…wouldn’t it make things awkward between us?”

Harry rolls his eyes playfully and shakes his head. “Things are only awkward if you make them, darling. Plus, it’s just a few seconds of kissing. S’not like I’m trying to shove my tongue all the way down your throat…Unless you’re into that.”

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Picture Perfect - Dean Winchester x Reader x Sam Winchester

Title: Picture Perfect

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader, Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 3,652

Warnings: None

Prompt: I got it! Can you do a fic where Sam dies while (Y/N) is pregnant with his child and so Dean helps her raise the child and they live the apple pie life and right when Dean wants to propose to (Y/N), Sam returns to life & ANGST. Please and thank you

“Mary!” Dean shouted “Breakfast’s ready, come on!” he said loud enough, hoping the little girl was going to hear him.

“Yes daddy!” she said in her childlike voice as she ran down the stairs. Her brown curls were bouncing as her green eyes sparkled with happiness the moment she spotted the food that lay on the table.

“Pie!” she exclaimed and the man chuckled at the girl.

“Yes princess!” he placed the last pancake on the place and put the frying pan away. He leaned down and picked her up, giving her a big kiss on the cheek as the little girl giggled at him.

“And it’s your favorite!” he said with a big grin and she squealed.

“Apple pie!”

“-Which you are not going to have for breakfast.” you said with a strict – but loving – mom look.

“What?” she pouted “Why?”

“Sweetheart.” you said softly, taking her from Dean’s arms “Pie is not right for breakfast and you know it. We’ve said you can have pie whenever you want to- as a treat. You will have to eat your meal first.” you said, tucking a few brown curls behind her ear.

“But daddy eats pie all the time- even for breakfast and you let him. Why can’t I?” the four-year-old gave you those puppy eyes that could actually do you anything they wanted.

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The Mistake (Part 1) - Stiles Stilinski

Author: @were-cheetah-stiles

Title: “The One With The Wedding In Vegas”

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall, Allison Argent, Isaac Lahey, Liam Dunbar, Malia Tate, Mason Hewitt, Cora Hale, Corey Bryant & Reader

Author’s Note: This chapter was entirely too fun to write. Probably because I was mildly drunk while doing so…. For my purposes, even though i kind of love Stalia, Stalia never happened in this AU, so Stiles lost his virginity to Lydia. *rolls eyes* whatever. Clearly still mildly drunk while writing this A.N. and am fully team StilesxReader at this point. Um, yea, this is my birthday, fake-relationship mini series present for @fillthevoid-stilinski. The fake-relationship part comes in the next part :)

Summary: Ten years later, Stiles and Y/n are twenty-six and partying in Las Vegas in a joint bachelor/bachelorette party for Scott and Allison, days before their wedding back in Beacon Hills.

Prologue - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Epilogue

Originally posted by hoech-bear

“Are you nervous about tomorrow?”

“Why?” Stiles answered your question with a question. ’The Master of Evasion’, you thought to yourself with an internal eye roll.

“Because that is your third whiskey neat, and we’re only on cocktails. We haven’t even done dinner and the casino yet, Sti.” You said with one eyebrow arched in amused concern.

Stiles stared down at his drink, and then looked up at you. “Have you been monitoring me, Giz?”

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A Cup a Day

Fandom: Marvel
Ship: Peter Parker x Reader
Requested: No
Genre: Fluffy Coffee Shop AU
Warnings: None
A/N: Thank you all for 2k followers!!!

Originally posted by parkrpeters

Every morning when you made your way to the coffee shop down the street from your house, you told yourself it was just because you loved their coffee. You told yourself that no other coffee would do, and that you were already so used to drinking that specific coffee on your walk to work that you just couldn’t change it.

And on weekends, when you never had work, you still insisted on getting your coffee from the same coffee shop. You told yourself that you only went for the weekend specials.

But as you walked into the coffee shop on this Tuesday morning, smiling as you waited in line, you didn’t give a thought about ordering your drink. “Next,” the familiar voice of the barista said, and you stepped up to the counter.

He looked up, and the face you had grown to look forward to seeing every morning lit up with a grin. “Hello,” he said with a soft voice, and you knew he recognized you. You felt a warm feeling in your chest at the realization. 

“You know my order by now, don’t you?” You replied, your previously sleepy state disappearing when you looked into his shining brown eyes. He let out a small chuckle, looking down at the register to put your order in.

He looked back up at you, telling you your amount, but you already had the money ready. He held his hand out and you set the bills down in his hand, your fingers grazing his. You sucked in a quick breath at the feeling, and you saw him bite his lip.

“Thanks,” he whispered, pressed some buttons on the register, and handed you your receipt. He looked behind you to see no one else in line, so he made your coffee himself. You rubbed your sweaty hands against your pants, your nerves getting the best of you.

You needed to calm down. You didn’t even know him.

But then again, you had seen him every day for the past three months since you had started coming to this coffee shop. He was at the register every day, taking your order and giving you a smile that made your heart beat faster in your chest. You remember yourself fawning over him and his shy demeanor, and watching as he would sometimes make your coffees with fumbling hands.

You remembered the way he nervously looked at you with red cheeks before asking you for your name.

“Here you go,” he had said to you as he handed you your coffee, and you moved to take it with shaking hands. It’d been a month of you coming here every morning, and you still hadn’t gotten used to the attractive boy who made your coffee. You weren’t sure you would ever get used to it, to him.

“Thank you,” you replied softly, taking the coffee from his hands. You stayed mindful, paying close attention to your hand to ensure it wouldn’t touch his accidentally. You began to turn to walk away after giving him one last smile when you heard his voice.

“Wait,” he said, and you thought it was the loudest either of you had been since meeting. You turned back to fully face him, and you bit your lip as you waited for him to continue. The two of you hadn’t said many words to each other besides ‘Good morning’ or ‘Have a nice day’, so to hear him open his mouth again made you nervous. 

“Uh,” he stumbled when he saw you looking at him with wide eyes, and you held back a chuckle at his stricken expression. “Um, what’s your name?”

You gripped the coffee cup tighter in your hands, and you weren’t sure why, but the question made you nervous. Maybe it was just because of the fact that he was asking for you name, which implied he wanted to know who you were. “I’m (Y/N),” you replied, smiling at him. You saw him breathe in quickly, and his eyebrows flicked slightly up his forehead. “What’s yours?”

“Peter,” he said immediately, and he looked down for a second, embarrassed at how quickly he responded.

“Peter,” you repeated, feeling the name in your mouth. And then you smiled wider, looking him in the eye. “It’s nice to officially meet you, Peter.”

He broke out into a grin and laughed lightly, almost sounding relieved at how well the conversation was going. “It’s nice to officially meet you as well, (Y/N).”

Hearing him speak your name for the first time gave you a warm feeling in your chest, and you didn’t mind it all. You clutched your coffee tighter, and you were worried the cup would soon break open.

You nodded once, taking a step backwards. You would be late to work if you didn’t leave soon. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then?” You said, an inquisitive tone to your voice.

“Yeah,” he said breathily, still smiling at you.

“Here’s your coffee,” Peter said now, handing you your coffee. You were broken out of your memory, taking the coffee from his hand. This felt like an all too familiar scene.

“Thanks, Peter,” you said, focusing on the current boy in front of you instead of the past one. “Have a nice day,” you continued, taking a step backwards, but Peter caught your arm. You looked at him with furrowed eyebrows, your heart beginning to beat harder in your chest.

“Uh, just,” he stuttered, staring at you intensely. You could see the nervousness on his face, and you wondered what he wanted to do that he was holding himself back from.

“Peter?” You asked, tilting your head slightly.

And then he took a deep breath, leaning over the counter quickly and pressing his lips to your cheek. You froze at his close proximity, almost not breathing. He leaned back to his respectful spot and let go of your arm, and you could see his cheeks getting redder and redder by the second.

“Just make sure to check your coffee sleeve,” were the only words he said before he gave you a small smirk and walked back to the register where a new customer had been waiting.

You laughed in disbelief as you took one last look at him, not believing he had just kissed you on the cheek. You turned around and walked out the door, restraining yourself from looking at the coffee sleeve until you were out of the coffee shop’s view.

When you finally looked down at it, you grinned. You knew you were already falling for this boy.

‘I hope you’ll let me get to know you. Here’s my number. xx.’

************************
THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR 2K FOLLOWERS!! I LOVE YOU GUYS AND THIS MEANS SO MUCH TO ME SO HERE’S A LITTLE SOMETHING AS A THANK YOU!! I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE IT. REQUESTS ARE OPEN :)

~e

Tag List: @quokkatrash @avengersgirllorianna @gdmora @sachiparker @chocolatekittys @thumper-darling @deans-angel-of-thursdays @vegeterianbassist @itsssmichelleee @frappichino23 @themilkface @shannonxbarnes @watchitburr @captain-sherlockomg @superwholockian5ever @teacher-crushed @duquesarosa @peter-my-parker @buckysberrie @neverlands-outcast 

anonymous asked:

A Bts reaction on their girl losing a bet and what their punishment is....ty in advance ♥

Your family has planned a huge family reunion in a beautiful place in the middle of nature & of course, your boyfriend is invited. This is absolutely no problem for nobody because everyone loves him ! Yes, but when the night falls, it’s simply out of question that you both sleep in the same hotel room. You’re not married, as far as they know ! When you say goodnight to your boyfriend in front of your door, you start laughing by saying that you’re almost sure that he will not handle it and sneak in your bedroom. He’s not sharing the same opinion : You’re the one who will not bear to sleep without him. After arguing for a few minutes, you start the bet : the first one who will join the other has lost & will have to accept any punishment. Your boyfriend laughs and goes to his bedroom, feeling confident after a last kiss that leaves you on your hunger. You close the door, determined to win your bet.

Namjoon

As he’s going to send you a message to tell you that he feels empty without you and without the reassuring warmth of your arms around him, Namjoon hears that someone is knocking at his door. When he opens the door and sees you in the embrasure, looking shameful as fuck, he retains a soft moan from finding you too cute to be true. He lets you in and opens his arms to hug you from behind but your sigh stops him. « So… What’s my punishment ? ». When you turn around and look at him with a horny look, all the sweetness that Namjoon wanted to show you vanishes in the sweet perspective of this punishment. He slowly gets closer to you, his eyes getting dark, a smirk on his plumped lips. You step back, frightened, reinforcing the feeling of total control of Namjoon who finally pushes you against the huge glazed bay window. In just a second, he gets rid of your nightie and throws it across the room. You’re completely naked, shivering less because of the coldness of the window than by his dominating gaze. He turns you violently against the glazed bay window, offering your body to the sight of anyone who would look out of a window overlooking the inner courtyard of the hotel. Shaking, you whisper : « oh my good Namjoon everybody can see us ». Namjoon doesn’t respond but his hot breath against your neck and the rustling sound of fabric means that he’s fully aware of it. Even worse : that’s what he wants. And when he slowly thrusts in you while licking your neck, you realize that this is exactly what you want as well : Let everyone see that you belong to Kim Namjoon.

Taehyung

Taehyung tosses and turns in his bed, unable to find sleep. Even without this stupid bet he would never dare to join you while your family is sleeping in the rooms next door. But as time passes, Tae is increasingly tempted to come and join you. As he puts an huge cushion between his legs and presses it firmly to give himself the illusion of your presence, he heard that someone is knocking at the door. He jumps and rushes to open the door, knowing fully well that it’s you. When you throw yourself on him to kiss him, desperately clinging to him, Tae starts smiling against your mouth, glad to see that you have as much trouble as him to handle the separation. Then, he remembers you promised him he could do anything if you lost. You were so sure of yourself that he didn’t even thought about it, but now that you’re here, he doesn’t even have to think about it. You seem to guess what he has in mind when he sits on his bed, staring at you as he pulls you by the hand. « You know what I want … ». Of course you know, and even if you get anxious every time, it’s a punishment you love. You kneel down and tie your hair. This simple sight already turns Tae on as he gets rid of his boxer. For the next 20 minutes, he fucks your face without mercy, forcing you to go deeper than ever, making you gag and cry, but most importantly making you drown your panties with your own wetness.

Jin

Jin put two ice cubes in his glass of water and drink two sips, enjoying the freshness of it. He looks out the window, the wind rustling through the leaves of the trees lighted by the moon. You must surely sleep, now… He misses you so much, but he really wants to behave well in front of your whole family. Nothing is more important than family values, respect to the parents, being well manne… Jin’s thoughts are interrupted by two knocks against his door. He frowns and opens the door to see you rushing inside. You raise your eyes full of remorses towards him, which makes him burst out laughing. He didn’t thought that one of you would loose honestly, but this turnaround pleases him. You don’t dare to look at him but you feel his intense gaze on you. « Take off your clothes & go lay on the bed ». You shiver and do as he says. He asks you to close your eyes, which you do without complain. Jin then takes the bag filled with ice and tries not to chuckle. He sits next to you, leaning on one arm as he takes an ice cube. « Don’t make a sound ». When Jin puts the first ice on your belly button, you jump and violently bite your lip to stop you from screaming. He passes it on your burning skin, going up on your nipples, watching it melt with a speed that turns him more than anything. It’s only when the bag of ice is almost empty, that your shaking body is soaked and that your thighs hurt you from pressing them too tightly under the pressure of your arousal that Seokjin finally gives you what you desire : him.

Hoseok

Hoseok can’t fall asleep as he thinks of you and your sweet hands on him, but he has no intention of losing. First because he doesn’t like losing against you, and because he really respects your family. He’s now lying on the edge of the bed, his feet still on the ground, his arms spread apart on either side of him. But damn he misses you like crazy. Suddenly, he hears your voice behind the door : « Hobi ? ». He stands up with a huge smile that he tries to hide when he tells you to enter. You close the door behind you, ashamed of losing so easily when it’s not even been an hour since you wished him good night. Hobi straightens up and, leaning on his arms, looks at you with all the cockiness he has. He knows that it gets you even more annoyed but he also knows that it turns you on. He doesn’t even have to say anything, you know the punishment. You get closer, lightly raising your nightie and lie down on his lap, perpendicular to him so that your butt is above his crotch. Hoseok bites his lip, lowering your panties, feeling the heat of your belly against him. The spanks slams in the air, your stifled moans immediately coming afterwards. Hoseok spanks you hard then massage the bruise, again and again until your skin is bright red. He knows that it drives you crazy as much as it drives him crazy.

Yoongi

« Yoongi ? Baby ? Open the door… ». Your whispers immediately makes him smile as he gets up to come to you. My God, you seem so disappointed with yourself… Yoongi starts to make fun of you, reminding you that he warned you that you would lose very quickly and that you were going to regret your stupid bet. When you sigh and stick against him, Yoongi holds you tight and strokes your head, gently shaking his head like he was really sorry. Oh, how much you’re gonna regret it… An hour later, indeed, you regret bitterly. Between your thighs, his smirk still on his lips covered with your juices, Yoongi never ceases to get you close to your hight and then stop his magic as soon as you’re about to explode. This little jerk loves it. You hate it as much as you never want it to end. Again and again, his expert tongue makes you feel things that should not even be humanly possible, his fingers rubbing exactly right on your weak spot before he stops. You can’t not even moan in frustration & must remain silent. And don’t count on your lover’s « kindness » : He will make you suffer until you cry, knowing that he can make you cum so hard you’re almost at the verge of fainting.

Jimin

Jimin rushes to the door as soon as he hears your steps coming closer. He quickly opens the door and drags you inside his bedroom, his arms wrapping around you. He covers your face with kisses, wondering when you were finally going to lose. He was so close to loose, like, really close. He smiles when you start to grumble because you have lost and suddenly he remembers that he can now have whatever he wants from you. He laughs and, his soft look turning into a feverish and teasing look, sits on the bed and pulls out his phone. In front of him, you ask him what he wants. « You always say no… This time, you can’t. Undress for me, babygirl… ». He begins to film you while you undress, at first shyly but quickly you get confident as it turns you on so much to see his eyes eager to see more. Once naked and against him, Jimin films you while you sensually dance on him, already thinking how much he’ll enjoy to be able to touch himself on a video of you when he’s gonna be on tour. He puts his phone on the night table and, once he’s sure that the angle is perfect, makes you climb on him so that you continue your provocative dances, your body shamelessly offered to the camera.

Jungkook

Jungkook knows how much it cost you to cross this long corridor to join him. He knows how much you hate losing as much as he does, and he knows that you’re dying of shame. He knows it, but that doesn’t prevent him from behaving like a real asshole. He lets you in and keeps teasing you, his silly laugh almost making you want to strangle him. You get closer to him, wanting to touch him at all costs (you did not give up the victory just to hear him laughing at you) but Jungkook moves away, singing : « You want my bodyyyy… You want to touch meee…. But ani ani aniiiiiiii… ». You decide that you’re really going to strangle him as you try to take his shirt off. While he lets you do it, you think he’ll finally give up and let you fuck him, but you’ve never been so wrong. Jungkook just wants you to see that body you love so much before he imposes his punishment on you. « I know what you hate the most, babe. ». He sits down on the bed, his hand sliding under his pajama pants, giving you the most provocative look : « You can’t stand it, right ? When I touch myself but you can’t… ». You kneel down at the edge of the bed, conscious that you must accept the punishment but already feeling the pain of seeing him do what you’re craving to do. « Look at me, Y/N… ». Jungkook bites his lip, his hand moving slow under his pajamas pants, hypnotizing you, making you suffer. Your fingers clenches on his thighs as he begins to smile. You can’t beg him but you want to… You’re dying to.

Bruised Knuckles

This is a lot of smutty smut in honor of @sippingchai‘s birthday! NSFW 18+. Hope you enjoy :-)

           The sheets on his side of the bed were cold, but his scent still lingered, letting me know that he had made it to bed for at least a few hours the night before. I stretched languidly, letting the soft Egyptian cotton stroke my skin, making me shiver. I bit my lip, my nipples pebbling under my top as I pressed my thighs together tightly, trying to relieve the ache that had been plaguing me for three weeks. I’d hoped Shawn would be there when I woke up to quench my insatiable desires, but again I was alone.

           I sighed, lazily getting out of bed and making my way into the bathroom. After putting in my contact lenses and brushing my teeth, I made my way down to the kitchen, craving caffeine. I popped the cup into the Keurig, noticing out of the corner of my eye that the basement door was ajar. Abandoning my mug on the granite countertop, I padded my way down the wooden staircase, hearing the punching bag being hit in the gym. I walked past the home theater and Shawn’s empty studio, standing in the doorway of our gym.

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anonymous asked:

Hello, for my one and only soul, could I get Dans 20th birthday where Phil waited to have The Full Sex™ with Dan because he didn't want to be that creep that bangs a teenager?

can you write a bit where phil’s always been rlly loving and soft and vanilla and dan says “harder” like 38291928 times and phil keeps being gentle af but then dan like looks up at phil and says “h a r d e r .” in like a “sex” voice and phil just fickin loses it and p o u n d s him into the mattress and also detailed orgasms thank you so much bby

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There isn’t much competition when it comes to Dan’s top three best birthdays. Now, his top three worst, that’s another story – so many of them have been so downright awful it’s hard for him to choose. There was that time in Kindergarten when he’d had a barbeque at the local park and a freak storm had blown through, tearing down their gazebo and knocking his Winnie the Pooh cake to the ground. Or his ninth birthday, when his cousin sprayed him with Poundland silly string, which had given him a severe allergic reaction and he ended up spending the remainder of his party in A&E. And who can forget his twelfth, when he’d climbed onto the roof of his single-storey house on a dare and broke his wrist on the way down? The list goes on, but, physical injury and heartbreaking loss of desserts aside, nothing will ever rank higher than his sixteenth, which he’d spent crying into half a dozen share-sized packets of Doritos when none of his guests turned up.

So, yes, Dan’s got a plethora of bad birthdays to choose from, but good ones? Honestly, his top three is probably just his nineteenth listed three times. It was the first he’d spent with not only an actual best friend but also a boyfriend – and okay, technically they’re the same person, but give him a break. He’d never expected to have one of those, let alone find both wrapped up in the miracle that is Phil. Dan had gone to spend his birthday week up in Manchester with him, where Phil had taken him to dinner and a movie and, sure, it was cliché and cheesy as hell, but that’s exactly what Dan had wanted. They’d eaten overpriced meals and made out in the back of the cinema and drank on a rooftop bar and it was by far the best birthday Dan’s ever had. Today, however, that’s about to change. Today, Dan is going to have a new number one, because today his boyfriend is finally, finally going to fuck him.

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Vegas Baby

A/N: This is for the One Prompt For All Dean Challenge, hosted by the lovely Beka @impala-dreamer This challenge was great, and I’ve been so excited to post this. The prompt is the very first line of the fic. I hope you all like it - and I’d love to hear what you thought, so if you care to drop me a line… I’m curious. :-)

Pairing: Dean x reader

Warnings: Angst, fluff, language, implied smut, unexpected pregnancy, talk of abortion, vomiting, implied canon-typical violence, and I hope I didn’t forget anything.

Word count: ~2700


“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to kill me.”

You flushed the toilet, refusing to see the breakfast you had just thrown up.

“Who’s trying to kill you Y/N?”

Your kid is, you thought as you rested your head back against the tub and wiped your mouth on the nearest towel.

“What did you say?”

You whipped your head around, meeting Dean’s eyes in the mirror as you frantically tried to think if you really said it out loud. But his eyes were more amused than alarmed, so you mustn’t have. What a relief.

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