GOT7 Most Attractive Features

Mark- smile, accent, eyes, calmness, face, and sexy voice.

Jaebum- Shoulders, facial beauty marks, dark aura, back, arms, and height.

Jackson- THIGHS, body, sense of humor, arms, deep voice, abs, and personality.

Jinyoung- lips, eye smile, handsome face, style, physique, sassyness, and the peach (butt).

Youngjae- smile, LAUGH, eyes, personality, singing voice, and positivity.

Bambam- skin tone, face, style, eyes, charisma, personality, and humor.

Yugyeom- Height, jawline, beauty mark, innocent yet sexy appeal, smirks, and playfulness.

anonymous asked:

How would u described the MPHFPC character's looks in the book?

Hugh: very very tol, from Japanese descent, wears dark goggles bc he’s sensitive to bright light and prone to bad headaches, very long legs and surprisingly strong arms, always has a couple bees around his mouth, dark brown eyes, well kept black hair that typically is underneath his golfer cap (Fiona really wished that thing gets lost)

Millard: also very tol, freckles, he used to be a little on the chubby side when he was young, once he became older & taller he lost the baby fat but still had some beautiful stretch marks to show (well he’s invisible but you get what mean), he has striking green eyes, lanky arms and legs, super messy brown hair, and dimples, DIMPLES EVERYWHERE!!

Horace: Lil short stack, dazzling blue eyes, slicked blonde hair, his ears are a little big which makes him a bit insecure which is why he wears his top hat 24/7, long legs and short torso, sparkling smile that can blind anyone (he really has a thing for over whitening his teeth)

Fiona: wild reddish black hair, She’s African Irish, very round and bright face, broad shoulders, beauty marks and freckles galore, she has prominent one by the left side of her mouth, beautiful golden greenish eyes, always is barefoot, she never shaves her legs :)

Emma: long blonde hair, dark brown eyes almost black, strong arms & broad shoulders, frown lines, very full eyebrows, small nose and very full lips, not very tall, not very busty but has some shape, when she smiles she has very cute dimples

Enoch: dirty blonde hair, SMOL, a cute LIL nose that kinda points upwards making him look a little stuck up, very very very green eyes that look glossy all the time, dark rings under his eyes, always seems to have dirt or blood smudged onto his face, his teeth are a little crooked

Olive: strawberry blonde thin hair, cute little smile, her cheeks are always flushed with color, hazel eyes, very strong for such a SMOL child, freckles all over her face and body

Jacob: Average height, green eyes, thick black messy hair, sweaty awkward teen,very long arms, lots of birth marks, face isn’t very clear, breaks out mostly on his forehead where his hair comes over, does the awkward side smile a lot

Claire: bright blue eyes and bouncy curly blonde hair, small mousy face, always has her nails painted, cute little smiles ;)

Bronwyn: light brown pixie cut hair, very busty, large muscular arms and legs, doesn’t like to shave her legs bc honestly who does, has a very contagious smile, beautiful light brown eyes, Filipino descent

drexm-eater  asked:

“How did you get this?”

observe my muse’s scars. | @drexm-eater

            he had taken his shirt off during training–the boy had gotten hot && sticky during the sparring session, all that remained was his pants && boots. tanned flesh from excessive time in the sun on the islands, shoulders dusted with beauty marks && freckles that trailed to his cheeks. however–there was an prominent trait that left the other’s staring at him as if he were a ghost.

            a grotesque scar that marred his skin, trailing from his left pectoral, to the center of his lithe chest. it had began to fade in with the rest of his flesh, although, not as severe as it once was, the scarring was still a bit sensitive to the touch, && not as visually appealing.

            the reason for this scarring was from his heroic deed–in order for his dear friend to awaken, the boy needed to be out of the picture, a sword to the chest to release the heart of his friend’s. in affect, sora was reverted to the simplistic form of a Shadow, whom oddly bared a conscious, soon after he was brought back to his human form, his chest had hurt, && there laid the scar.

           “ oh this? “ cerulean eyes averted to his own chest, phalanges tracing the rough flesh, snapped his head back up at his friend. “ you remember when I sacrificed myself to release kairi’s heart..? soon after I came back, this scarring appeared. “ not that he was complaining, he takes PRIDE in it, because he’s fully aware of why it’s there, && how it happened. 

            “ I sometime’s forget it’s there, unless someone brings up what happened. “

Fanfic - Dress You Up in My Love - 1/1

Summary: Morning after spending the night together Barry and Iris realize helping each other back into their clothes can be just as fun.

Pairing: Westallen

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 2338

Iris quietly stepped back into Barry’s room with a towel wrapped around her body. The scent of Barry’s body wash clung to her skin from her recent shower. She made a mental note that if she was going to spend more nights at his apartment she would need to start bringing her own supplies for getting ready in the morning.

She carefully crept further into Barry’s room. The light dimmed by the heavy curtains still drawn over the window blocking out the sun. Carefully Iris tried to avoid stubbing her toe on one of Barry’s science-y texts or trip over the discarded piles of clothes on the ground. She glanced over to the bed where Barry was still sleeping on his back with his arms and legs stretched out. He snored lightly as his chest moved up and down with each breath. Iris shamelessly ogled his naked chest. Her eyes tracing over the beauty marks and freckles that dotted along his skin. 

She felt heat flush across the back of her neck when she remembered what the two of them got up to last night. Never did she expect her sweet and humble Bear to be so creative in bed, or to be so bold. She took one last look before she turned away to start looking for her clothes

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"Insecurities..." - One Direction Preference

[I would just like to say that I think each and every one of you are truly beautiful people - inside & out! I know that none of us love every thing about our selves but I think it’s important to be able to cherish people for who they are. Beauty is so much deeper than looks. A beautiful person is a loving person, with a big heart and will to love. And I, love all of you for everything that you are!! Thank you all for your daily love & support!] 


Your heart felt like it was shattering into a million pieces, crumbling apart inside your chest. You could feel the tears spilling down your cheeks, but no matter how hard you tried you just couldn’t make the pain go away. It felt as though you’d never be whole again. You heard your bedroom door creak open, but refused to open your eyes. You felt a warm hand hesitantly graze your shoulder, and you shuddered, sobs shaking your body. You felt yourself being lifted, two strong arms encompassing you. You knew it was Niall, by the familiar scent of his cologne as it washed over you, and you buried your face in his worn t-shirt. He rested his chin protectively on the top of your head, stroking your back with his calloused fingers. “(Y/N)?” he asked cautiously, “talk to me. Please, beautiful girl. I can’t stand to see you cry.” You swallowed the lump clogging your throat, and looked up into his clear blue eyes. “Don’t do that,” you huffed, moving out of his grasp, “don’t call me beautiful, when I’m not.” The look on his face was a mixture of confusion and pure sadness. He stood to his full height, pulling you back to face him, his hands cradling your face. He tipped your chin up to meet his eyes, and fresh tears fell from your eyes as he looked at you. “What is that supposed to mean?” he asked, shock evident on his face. “(Y/N)? How can you not see how beautiful you are? How can you not see the beauty in your smile, and in your warm eyes? The beauty of the way you laugh, and how your nose scrunches up. Not to mention the beauty in your heart.” You drew in a breath, his words weighing on you, a fresh wave of tears spilling from your saddened eyes. “How- how can I be beautiful, and still be unloved,” you hiccupped, looking down at the floor, unable to meet his gaze. You’d never told anyone your biggest insecurity before, and it scared you to your core to admit it now. He tipped your chin up again, gently stroking your skin. “You are loved,” he said simply, his thumb grazing your lower lip. “I, love you,” he breathed, voice heavy with his own emotion, never before admitting his feelings to you. “I love ya, more than I’ve ever loved anyone, in my whole life.” Your breath caught in your throat as he placed his lips lovingly with yours, your hands pressed over his rapidly beating heart. For the first time in your life, you let someone into your heart. For the first time, you believed the words you never thought you’d hear. You let Niall show you what true love really was. 


Flaws. That was all you could see when you looked at yourself in the mirror. It was a gut wrenching feeling deep inside your self. The self-loathing never seemed to go away, some days worse than others. Like now, you stepped out of the steaming shower, the hot water mixing with the cool air against your skin. You glanced in the mirror, eyes stopping to criticize what you saw staring back at you. All you could see was the reflection of a girl, with tired eyes, rims drooping below in dark circles. You saw your rounded cheeks covered in moles, freckles, and acne scars. You tightened your jaw at the sight, eyes trailing lower. You scoffed when you saw the lack of boobs residing on your chest. You glanced at the scar on your hip, there from years ago. The trauma may have been long gone, but the scar left behind would always be a permanent, hideous reminder of the pain you’d once endured. You draped your arms over your stomach, curling into yourself. The tears were brimming in your eyes, white hot as they slipped past your cheeks, falling silently to the floor. You reached for the towel hanging nearby, wrapping it angrily around your body. You crumpled to the floor, holding your head in your shaking hands, allowing yourself to be overcome by your sobbing. You slid your hands through your sopping wet hair, frustration radiating out of every pore. “(Y/N)? Are you out of the­­­–,” Harry’s voice stopped cold at the sight of your coiled body resting on the floor. “(Y/N)? What happened? Are you hurt?” He knelt beside you, lifting your head slowly from your hands. “Look at me,” he pleaded, words clouded with anguish. Your eyes were red, and swollen with tears, as his searched your body for damage unseen. “Harry, just go. Please. I cant,” you cried to him, but instead he wrapped his long arms protectively around you, holding you close to his chest. His fingers tangled in your damp hair, his lips pressed to the top of your head. “Shhh, love. Shhh, I’m not going anywhere,” he soothed, his heart cracking with the weight of your sadness. “I need you to tell me what’s happened. Please, love. Let me help you.” You drew in a breath, swallowing the lump forming in the back of your throat. He wicked away a stray tear with the pad of his thumb, green eyes desperate. You stood up shakily, hesitantly letting the towel fall in a puddle at your feet. “Look at me,” you choked, “look at these scars. This skin…” you trailed off, more tears threatening to fall. Harry stood behind you, placing his hands softly to your bare skin, fingers skimming slowly over the surface. “All I see is beauty,” he hummed, kissing your shoulder blade. “Beauty in every mark, every freckle.” He kissed your nose and each cheek tenderly. “Nothing but beauty in every scar,” he bent low, his lips sweetly grazing your hipbone. “Nothing but beauty. Inside and out,” he whispered, covering your lips with his.                 


You’d been talking for what seemed like hours. An endless string of thoughts flowing out of you, and your eyes crinkled deeply at the edges, the corners of your mouth turning up in laughter. That laughter should have been a happy sound; loud and energetic in its bell like quality. It came out in a burst. A laugh so intense and throaty, as it dripped from your lips. If laughter is a sign of happiness from deep within, why was your face falling just as quickly as it had brightened? Why did that wide smile falter so easily? You sat back against the headboard of your queen-sized bed, biting your bottom lip self-consciously. You tucked your arms defensively around yourself, as if to build a shield from scrutiny you expected to come. You could feel Zayn’s intense brown eyes starring at the side of your face. You glanced at him, turning your gaze ever so slightly in his direction. His mouth was pressed into a confused line. The muscles in his jaw tightened in desperation. He positioned himself to face you, giving you no choice but look into his eyes. “Why do you do that?” he asked, his words plain, but dripping with intensity. You shrugged, pretending you didn’t know exactly what he was talking about. He placed a strong hand to your smooth cheek, thumb gliding back and forth in soothing strokes. “Please tell me, babe.” You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding, “I just don’t like the way that I talk. Or laugh…” you let your words trail off, looking down at your lap, fingers picking at an unseen hangnail. A single tear slipped from the corner of your eye, leaving a streak down your cheek. “(Y/N),” he spoke your name softly. Tenderly. You looked up at him, wiping your eye with your shirtsleeve. His eyes were the color of honey, filled with a radiant love when he spoke, “I know that I don’t talk all that much,” he smirked, and you let out a small chuckle. “Partly that’s because I’m just generally a quiet guy. But mostly,” he paused, taking your small hand in his own, “it’s because I’d rather listen to you talk. That sweet voice of yours, so soft, caring, and always filled with love.” He leaned in impossibly close, resting his lips softly to yours, as he kissed a smile back onto your lips. Tears fell from your eyes once more, but this time it wasn’t for sadness. It was for love. It was for the way Zayn made you feel. How he made you see yourself in a whole new light.             


He slipped his strong hands around your waist, lifting you effortlessly into his lap. His lips left a trail of kisses along your jawline, and over your neck. You smiled contentedly as he caressed your skin, sending pleasant tingles up your spine. You craned your neck to one side, giving him access to your collarbone. “So beautiful,” he hummed, breath tickling your skin as he spoke. Your eyes fluttered to a close, lips parted, his name leaving your breath in a whisper. His hands slipped up, under the hem of your shirt, pushing the smooth fabric over your pale skin. The tips of his fingers drew endless circles into your back. You tangled your fingers in his short brown hair, when you felt him pinch the hook of your bra between his thumb and forefinger. Your body instantly stiffened. You retracted into yourself, quickly becoming self-conscious. You rose to your feet, taking a step away from where he sat, a stunned look on his chiseled features. “I’m– I’m sorry,” he breathed, raising his hands apologetically in the air. “I shouldn’t have pushed you like that,” he raked his hands along the back of his neck. You chewed on your lower lip, biting back tears. He looked at you, chocolate eyes searching your face. He crossed the room to where you stood, your arms linked around themselves for comfort. “I’m sorry, baby. Please,” his voice was filled with self-blame. You looked up at him through your thick black lashes, and said, “it’s not you, Liam. Its– its me.” His brow furrowed in confusion, and he placed a hand softly to your cheek. “What? What do you mean?” You heard the skepticism in his accent, and you replied quietly, “I’m not– experienced, when it comes to this sort of thing.” You could feel the blush rising in your cheeks, and you trained your eyes to the floor. He raised your chin, a smile playing on his lips, “that’s where I can help,” he said, licking his lips playfully. “But…what if I’m no good at it?” you asked shyly. “Baby, is that what you’re worried about? About not pleasing me?” You nodded, and he kept his voice serious when he said, “you please me everyday. When you smile, or laugh. In the way you kiss me,” he said pulling you closer. “I am the luckiest guy in the world, to have you to love.” You smiled fully, kissing him fiercely on the lips, urging him with your kisses, to love you like he never had before.     


You looked in the mirror, inspecting your body from all angles. You scowled at what you saw, turning away in a huff. You tossed the dress onto the growing pile of dresses taking up residence on your bed. You rummaged once more through your closet, discovering a navy blue dress. You slid the silky fabric up over your thighs, grunting as the fabric stretched tight over your skin. You pulled the straps up, wiggling the dress into place. Louis walked into the bedroom, pausing in the doorway to watch you. He smiled to himself, loving the color blue on you. He saw you struggling with the zipper. Crossing the room in three short strides, he smiled at your reflection as he swept your hair off your shoulder. He peppered gentle kisses along your neck, pulling the zipper into place. You chewed on the inside of your cheek, refusing to make eye contact with him in the mirror. “What’s wrong, babe?” he asked, genuinely confused by the look in your eyes. You pulled away from his touch, taking a few steps back, feeling the tears creeping into your eyes. “(Y/N). Look at me. Please pretty girl,” his voice was quiet, but worry lingered in his words. The tears were too strong, now raining down your pink cheeks. Louis moved closer, tugging you into his arms, hugging you tight to his chest. He stroked your hair, as you buried your face in his neck. He held your face tenderly in his hands, forcing you to look into his bright blue eyes. “What’s got my beautiful girl so upset?” he asked, kissing you once on the forehead. “I hate the way I look in a dress. They’re all too tight. It just makes me look fatter,” you hiccupped, trying to pull the fabric off your body. “You, are not fat,” he said hotly, dragging you back to the mirror. “Look.” He tilted your lowered head upward, stroking your chin softly. He ran his other hand along the length of your thigh, and up over your hip, sliding it sensually over the curves of your stomach. “You, are beautiful,” he hummed, both hands now gliding over the dress. He undid the zipper, slid the straps from your shoulders, and shimmied the dress down until it fell to the floor. His hands ran over your bare skin, sending pleasant shivers up your spine. “I worship every curve,” he paused kissing your thighs. “Every dip,” another kiss to your stomach, “and every line, of your beautiful body,” he said kissing you just below your breasts, earning a shy smile. You draped your arms around his neck, as you pulled his lips to yours. For the first time, you were finally able to feel beautiful in your own skin.