steps for a bun

2

Undercover Mira. 

Goals

Imagine waking up for school. You are so light, your bed doesn’t even make a sound while you’re getting up.

You sip on your water as you are walking to your closet. You pull out first 2 pieces of clothing you can find which happen to be high wasted jeans and a crop top, it doesn’t matter though because everything looks good on your small, dainty body. You go into your bathroom and put on some light makeup, it’s not like you need much anyways. Your sharp jawline and high cheekbones making your features even more radiant.

You look into the corner of the bathroom and see a scale. You step on it without a worry and it shows your goal weight. You happily step off and quickly put your hair in a bun, revealing your prominent collarbones. Your mom is yelling for you to hurry up.

You pull on your oversized jacket, grab your backpack and run out of the house.

Bon Soir [Lafayette x Reader] Part One

Description: You, an American patriot from a loyalist family, catch the eye of the Marquis De Lafayette one night at a tavern. After your first night with the enigmatic frenchman, you realize how turbulent life can really get in a time as turbulent as this. 

Warnings For This Chapter: Smut, alcohol, mild swearing, and mild Lams, where I could slip it in ;) 

Notes: So, there will be five parts to this story. It will, if we’re being honest here, be updated probably once or twice a week until it is finished. This story is a mix of Hamilton’s characters and actual historical stuff, and there will also be lots of appearances from the rev set in this fic, so brrrah, brrrah!! Enjoy. 

||Part Two||


It’s a beautiful night in the colony of New York, the moon full and the usual chill in the air slightly warmed. Besides it being a lovely night, it was also quite rowdy- but during these turbulent times, you couldn’t expect less from the Northern colonies.  

You pull your cloak tighter around your shoulders… it’s really not a night to be out for a lady, but you couldn’t care less. Your family still clings to the proverbial olive branch, one of the less popular voices of loyalist reconciliation. You’re a patriot, through and through, and any chance you have to escape your frankly shameful homestead under an anonymous family name at night to “cavort” with those who share your views on freedom, you take.

Slipping down a dark alley with the hood of your cloak pulled up, you find your way into the even rowdier Fraunces Tavern. Looking around, you smile. Men clinking their sloshing drinks together, shouts and jeers at the king tossed around liberally- this was the beginning of a revolution, and you’d be damned if you missed it.

“You lookin’ for a good time, honey?” some guy with a heavy Boston accent asks you from the table next to the door, and you turn to him.

“I’m looking for a drink, and whatever good time I can derive from that.” The guy still stares at you, waiting for a follow up, so you decide to win even more favour by voicing your views. “Fuck the king?”

The entire table bursts out in cheers and pounds their fists and mugs down repeatedly as you smirk and saunter past them. You get to the bar, and ask for a Sam Adams, before turning around and surveying. To answer the drunk man’s question, you aren’t actively seeking that sort of good time, really… but, nights like these were full of exceptions.

“Here you are, miss,” the friendly bartender nods to you, then pauses, “I’ve seen you in here a couple times now, and I don’t recall your name.” He looks genuinely confused. “Who’s your husband?”  

“I’ll let you know once I find one,” you wink, and cross the tavern to occupy a booth. Just as you’re lifting up your skirts to sit, the door crashes open, and in come four very loud young men.

“What time is it?!” one yells, and the other three yell back, “Showtime!” while cackling and slapping each other on the back.

You roll your eyes again, imagining all the fights they were sure to start tonight. The bartender seems to know them, and pours four ales for them as well. Snatching up his drink, the short one with the ponytail and goatee marches right up to the table in the middle, getting up on it and chugging half his mug.

“To the revolution!” he finally bursts out with, and almost trips off the table. The large one with the beanie catches him, shaking his head with a grin, and the second shortest one with curly hair and freckles joins the talker with a close arm around his shoulder.

“Now this is the place to be, amiright boys?!” freckles shouts, taking a long drink.

“Oui oui, mon ami,” another voice chuckles, and your interest is immediately peaked. A frenchman in the colonies? The excitement of these taverns is incomparable, and it is exciting to say the least to hear someone from so far away- you know a little of the language, or what you had learned as a girl.

You watch in quiet admiration as a tall, athletically built man with dark hair tied up in a bun and a close trimmed beard steps out, carrying two mugs of ale. He hands one to beanie man, and plops his own down on the table. “We must tell the king casse toi with our war effort!”

“We will, Laf,” beanie assures, “But first? Horses.”

“What?” freckles and goatee both say at the same time.

“Corsets,” beanie laughs, rubbing the back of his neck, “I meant corsets.”

“Hercules, you are an idiot,” Laf deadpans.

“I’m the most mature one here,” Hercules shoots back.

“Easy, when tes amis are Alexander Hamilton and John Laurens.”

Hercules lets out a booming laugh, and is soon joined by Laf’s own charming snicker. Alex and John are too enamoured with their own private conversation to notice much.

Your eyes train on Laf. If he was french, he must have a longer name than that… you’re determined to know it. He was undeniably a charmer- he was handsome, dashing as a prince, and very stylish. With the words he had uttered earlier, you found it safe to assume he’s as passionate about American independence as you are.

You make an excuse to walk by.

Heyyy there,” goatee (Alexander)? calls, swivelling his head to look at you.

Bingo.

Hercules lets out a low whistle as you turn to face them. “I don’t mean to be too forward, but madamn.”

"What the ever loving merde is that supposed to mean, Hercules?” Laf’s face scrunches up, and Herc just shrugs.

“Works on most of ‘em.”

“I’m Alexander Hamilton, bastard, orphan, son of a whore,” Alex jumps up, grasping your hands, and you can see the gears in his slightly drunk mind turning. “So I’d love to flirt for like, a really long time because you’re pretty and everything, but there’s a revolution to plot-”

“-And drink to!” John adds.

“-And drink to, as my beautiful lover Jackie just piped in and waaait, I’m probably not supposed to say shit like that in a tavern full of guys who will probably have me castrated for it, but hey, we die like men, right?”

“Yo, um, sorry 'bout him,” John blushes with a slight slur, coming over to guide Alex back to his seat. “He gets- *hic*- chatty when he’s tipsy.” You just laugh, letting them know it’s no big deal. John doesn’t seem very interested in you romantically or sexually, only greets with a good natured- albeit tipsy as well- smile. Hercules gets up to introduce himself.

“Hercules Mulligan. I’m Irish.” He drops his voice down to a whisper. “That’s kind of my thing.” Laf gets up to hip bump Hercules out of the way, take your hand, and press a kiss to it. You blush deeply.

“Bon soir, belle mademoiselle. I am Paul Yves Roch-”

Heeere we go,” Alex slurs.

“-Gilbert de Motier de Marquis de Lafayette,” Laf finishes with a glare to his friends, then turns back to you with a gaze that could only be described as… lust ridden?

“Plaisir,” you reply in french, and his eyes widen, his entire body straightening like an arrow in excitement.

“You speak my mother tongue, cherie?!”

“Only a little,” you confess with a timid giggle, “I’m not French, monsieur Lafayette, only acquired some words from my studies.”

“Gorgeous and intelligent,” he flirts, “A lady after my heart.”

“Handsome and bold,” you volley back, “A man after mine.”

“OHHHH SHIT!” John shouts, and Alex begins to laugh.

“GUESS WHO’S GETTING IT IN TONIGHT?!”

“Not you two,” Laf growls, and John and Alex tumble over each other watching you both. Hercules just rolls his eyes, and downs his drink.

“Care to drink with us?” Lafayette offers, outstretching his hand, and you happily accept. Hercules gets up to grab you another beer, and slides it over to you. John begins to chug his second, and you smirk, taking it as a challenge. Downing yours to the last drop, you’ve finally earned the respect of Hercules Mulligan as he bangs on the table and shakes his head.

“You are getting better and better as the night goes on,” Laf whispers, and you laugh.

“Is that the alcohol talking?”

“On the contrary, cherie, I am still on my first… though I may be thinking with something other than my mind,” he alludes, and you feel a shiver run through you.

He is very attractive.

“What brings you to the colonies?” you ask Lafayette conversationally, and he takes a sip of his ale.

“Revolution.”

“You’re here for congressional duties?” you feign ignorance, though you know how to identify a congressman- powdered wigs, brightly coloured jackets, and stuffy mannerisms. Nothing Laf possessed.

“Ah no, mademoiselle. War is imminent- that is the talk here and overseas. I will fight as one of you for your glorious country!”

“Ayyy, to our fighting frenchman!” Alex lifts his mug, and John raises his as well.

“Very brave,” you murmur, “I wish I could serve in the continental army.”

“You can still do your part at home,” Laf assures, taking your hands excitedly, “You can make gunpowder, you can sew uniforms, you can…” he suddenly hesitates, lowering his eyes, “Pray for and write letters to your husband.”

“Why does everyone in this tavern assume I have a husband?” you tease, and he looks back up.

“Forgive me. No one has, eh… courted you yet?”

“Courted me? Oh, quite a few. I have yet to accept,” you giggle, “I suppose I’m just as hard to please as the next young lady.”

“I, too, have very specific tastes,” he nods, and bites his lip, “Mais, it would be very nice to have a woman to boost my morale on the battlefield.”

“Wait… hey, what’s your name?” John laughs, “We didn’t even ask!”

“Oh,” you blush, eye contact with Lafayette broken, “Um…” You sigh. It shouldn’t be any trouble to give them your real name. “(y/n) (y/l/n).”

Everyone repeats your name, raises a glass, and drinks. Lafayette smirks at you a moment longer, then drinks as well.

As the night wears on, you start to become even closer with the group. Stories are passed around, drinking games are played, and talk that would’ve sounded like treason in many other colonies flowed freely from your mouth with the boys. As the night begins to dwindle with the candles burning down close by, hands begin to wander, skirts began to lift a few inches, and blood begins to rise.

“Raise one last glass to freedom,” John finally says, somewhat soberly, as everyone stands up, “Something they can never take away.”

“No matter what they tell you,” Herc adds, placing a hand over his heart.

“Raise a glass to the… five of us, here tonight,” Alex nods, looking to you, “Our cause is a great one.”

“King George will never stand a chance,” you finish, and everyone downs their last sip and sits back down. With that, Laf takes your hand, rubbing a thumb over your knuckle. You turn to him, and take note of how he’s staring at your lips. Danger and adrenaline course through your veins, imagining just what he could be picturing right now. Practically in his lap by now, you shift your hips a little, and he sucks in a sharp breath.

“It is getting late, ma cherie,” he murmurs, obviously holding back, and begins to stand.

“It is,” you nod, moving to brush your fingers along the hem of his blue coat, and grasp your fingers firmly in his lapel. His eyes dart to meet yours, dark and warning, and his fingers find yours as he lets out a wistful sigh.

“(y/n)… I am a gentleman, and you have had too much to drink.”

“I assure you,” you grin, turning the tables and ghosting a kiss over his knuckles, “I have not.”

He spends a long time staring at you, debating mentally. You can feel him hardening in his breeches under you, but despite his uncomfortable expression and beading sweat, he doesn’t make even the slightest nudge to meet your grinding movements.

“Are you quite certain?” he finally asks, interest beginning to spark again in his eyes as he realizes that maybe you do want him like this.

“All I want is to feel your lips on my neck,” you confirm with a whisper in his ear, and he slots his large hand around your wrist, standing you up. The three others don’t even question it as Laf leads you out the back door, and the once the heavy wooden door closes, you’re both free. He immediately presses the front of you right up against the brick, pulling your hair aside and grazing his teeth over the back of your neck.

“Then, if there are no reservations on either of our parts, I will give you everything you need,” he growls, and continues his attack on your neck, showering kisses up and down. You flip around so that you can face him, and he pins you back again, opening up the neck of your dress just a little more for better access.

Lafayette’s gaze is hungry. Your excitement is known to him as he reaches under your dress, unbuttons your underclothes and realizes you’re already wet for him.

“So eager,” he groans, “Such an eager little kitten, desperate for her papa, hm?”

“Oh,” you sigh, his words sending pulses down to your core. He pulls your underclothes off, but as his long fingers are about to breach you, he pauses.

“You… have been touched or taken before, yes?”

You bite your lip, look around, and nod shyly. If word of that got out around here, you’d be off the market, as it were…. not that you particularly desired to on the market, but that was a different matter entirely. His face blossoms into a grin, and he lifts your legs up to wrap around him.

“Hold onto me, cherie, do not let go,” he murmurs, and once your arms are secure around his neck as well, he uses one hand to unbutton his breeches. You can already see the outline of his large cock, and once he has everything undone, he pulls it out.

“Monsieur, you’re so big,” you whine, and he gazes at you, licking his lips.

“We can make it fit, ma cherie,” he whispers, “Spread your legs a little wider for me… that is it, kitten… like that.”

You keen under the pet name, and he positions himself at your entrance before finally pushing in, groaning together with you as you tighten around him.

“Oui, oui, yes…” he breathes, “That is good… so good for me…” He sucks his lip between his teeth, and after a few seconds, begins to move, nudging you back against the wall with each deep thrust. He’s very large, so he has no trouble hitting that spot that drives you crazy, but he makes it even better when his fingers find your clit; Laf has a different approach than most men do, though- the select few you’d been with (if they make the effort to find it at all) rub with harsh, rough pushes… Lafayette massages you in slow circles, making you moan for him.

Leaning forward, the intensity between you increases as your foreheads meet, lips drifting close to each other and parting, almost kissing but not for minutes at a time. The teasing was getting to him, and he finally surges forward, breathing in your breath. You give his bottom lip a feisty bite, and he smiles, drawing away.

“You are a true northern belle, mademoiselle (y/n),” he mumbles, panting, “You are not like other ladies.”

“Oh, on the contrary sir,” you reply, “I simply don’t bother with the false customs. I say, fuck tradition, and fuck anybody who wishes to advise me otherwise.”

“There is a revolution on because of Americans who share your general mindset, ma chou,” he grins, and kisses you again.

As you both begin to race toward your climax, his thrusts increase, and you’re soon being pounded into the wall, legs tight around his ass and cries being muffled in his blue coat.

“Please… ah, Laf….”

“(y/n), so perfect, j’aime votre parfum…”

As he whispers your name, you hear voices, and turn to see two men walking by the alley on the road, in hats and coats. They sound southern.

“What if th…th-” you gasp, and Laf strokes your cheek.

“They will not see us, it is too dark. Besides, why would anybody pay attention to a stray kitten, begging in an alley, like you?”

“Ah,” you throb again at his dark laugh, and he shrugs.

“Also, the alleyway behind a tavern is where all the drunkards stumble out to vomit. No respectable man or woman wants to see that.”

“What an arousing image,” you scowl, and lean in for another kiss.

“You are so beautiful,” he mumbles against your lips once you part, and licks a line up your neck to just below your ear; you’re losing yourself to the pleasure. “Do you think you can come for me, ma (y/n)?” Laf rasps in your ear, stroking over your clit fondly, and you nod with a little whine, crying out his name softly as he slams in particularly hard. Circling his hips to guide you through a long orgasm, he lets out a little gasp of his own after you’ve finished. As you shake and pant his name, he sets you down carefully before quickly pulling out and taking himself in hand, jerking frantically a couple times and coming like a shot against the brick wall. Your name falls from his lips a few times like a prayer, and soon, you’re both sated and exchanging lazy tongue kisses, tasting each other’s mouths in the night air.

It’s chillier than it was earlier. You should get home before your one of your sisters or father notices you’re gone.

“When do you leave to join the ranks?” you ask, staring into his eyes. He does up his buttons precisely, patiently and one at a time.

“Very soon, I assume, cherie.”

“How very childish of me, but… what you said, about having someone to look out for you…”

“Mmm?”

“Will you…” you look down, embarrassed, and take off a ring on your pinky finger. “Remember me over a couple beers with your friends?”

His eyes light up, and he presses a long kiss to your cheek.

“When I wake up and when I fall asleep, (y/n).”

You smile a little. “Thank you for your service.”

He kisses your hand one last time. “If it takes fighting a war and, eh…” he leans in to your ear, brushing your hair back, “getting better acquainted behind a tavern to meet, it will, most certainly, have been worth it, ma chou,” he smiles back.

You dance and sigh your way home, ignorant of every redcoat who gives you a second dirty look. With men like the Marquis de Lafayette and his friends leading the troops, those bastards’ll be back home where they belong in no time.

2

I’m back writing your prompts, yay! My writer’s block is gone for good finaly so here is another one-shot! I really liked writing this one, having Jughead the one losing his perpetual composed self. I hope you will all enjoy it too!

(P.S. I’m not ignoring your older prompts, I was just craving to write this after last episode and Jughead’s pain, which I’ll never get over. Don’t worry, darlings, I’ll write all your prompts during this hiatus to help all of us deal with all those beautiful Bughead feels! <3) 


The glass doors of Riverdale’s General Hospital closed with a light swoosh behind a rushing Betty Cooper, her messy bun bouncing vigorously with every urgent step her white sneakers took. With her white pajama t-shirt still under her maroon grid bomber jacket and a pair of grey yoga pants – the girl minutes away from dozing off to a dreamless slumber just before her phone disrupted the calmness of her room – she anxiously jogged down the quiet corridor, due to the hour, and stopped abruptly in front of the reception, the elder head nurse shooting her an exhausted glare.

“I’m looking for Forsythe Pendleton Jones.” Her voice came out with difficulty, Betty now registering how out of breath she was, probably by the fact that her house was at the other side of town and she had chosen to walk, or most correctly run, all the way to the hospital.

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Tortured Nights

Pairing: Fuckboy!Theo Raeken x Fem!Reader

Requested: Yes

Warnings: Cursing, Mentions of sex

Trigger Warnings: Eating disorder

Request: Can I get a fuckboy theoX bestfriend were she’s in love with him and they live together so she gets tortured by him having sex with other girls and she starts fading away from him and develops a eating disorder? Sorry if thats to much. Please&thank you.

A/N: Sorry it took a while, its just that writer’s block is a thing and school has been tiring. Sorry


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Masterlist!

I guess I’ll separate by series?  I tend to do series…

I’ll mark ratings.  G = General.  PG = Somewhere between General and Teen.  T = Teen/Content is getting edgy.  M = Mature.  NSFW = Not Safe For Work.  If not rated, it’s probably G.

If there’s no link, it’s a WiP.

If you don’t want personal-ish posts, blacklist that one smiley that I can only do on my phone.  I tag all the personal-ish posts with that.

I’ll start with fics.  Headcanons towards the end.  If you want headcanons for one specific person, try their pairing or name tag. (I’ll list them on the bottom, here, so you can just click.)

Also:  something all my followers should read!

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xerxia31  asked:

Esteemed everlark writer, cheerleader and fangirl extraordinaire @appleblossomgirl0305 completes another revolution around the sun on March 5th. Could I request a drabble to celebrate? She loves friends to lovers, and stories where Everlark adventures together discovering each other and building a relationship. And smut ;) Thank you thank you thank you!

Originally posted by creamphilled

Happiest of birthdays to you @appleblossomgirl0305! To celebrate, the incomparable @lvfics has crafted this wonderful morsel of Everlark, just for you. Enjoy!


Weekenders

Rating: M

It’s still light out when the doorbell rings. The sun sits low in the sky, warm orange light flows in from the large windows. Brought to her feet by the incessant ringing, Katniss opens the door to find Peeta standing in the hallway. His bright smile is overshadowed only by the greasy bag of cheese buns in his hands.

“You’re spoiling me,” Katniss says, stepping aside to invite him in.

“Get your own cheese buns,” he scoffs. “These are mine.”

She stares pointedly at him until he finally gives up the bag. With a laugh, Peeta kicks his shoes off and makes himself comfortable on the sofa. Katniss plops down next to him, biting into a steaming pastry.

“What’s on the agenda tonight?” she asks as he scrolls through the channels.

It’s become their ritual. Every weekend Peeta’s brothers invite everyone they know and trash the place with their round-the-clock party. Just the thought of it makes Katniss exhausted. So before the party hits full swing, Peeta makes his escape and spend the weekend with Katniss in her more modest studio. The whole thing started when she found him sleeping on a patio chair in the courtyard one Sunday morning and invited him in for breakfast. The following week he was at her door with a bag of cheese buns. Friends ever since.

“You need DVR,” Peeta says, landing on a cooking channel. “You’re living in the dark ages.”

“Nope,” Katniss says flatly. “Then you’ll never leave.”

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Fic request: Steve to the Rescue

Prompts: “I need a place to stay.” “Just smile, I really need to see you smile right now.”
Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader
Words: 816
For the ever-lovely Anon! I hope you enjoy!!


Y/N trudged through the rain down the cold Brooklyn street. She was soaked through to her skin and was shivering but she was glad it was raining. No one could tell the rain water from the tears running down her face. She finally arrived at Steve’s door. Steve Rogers. They had been friends for only a few months but he was the only person she had left in this town. Raising a shivering hand, she knocked hoping he was home. She was about to knock a second time when the door opened. Steve looked as good as always in jeans and a blue t-shirt.

“Y/N! What’s up?” He started to ask but paused seeing her tears and her shivering. He closed his mouth and pulled her into his apt and closed the door.

“S-s-s-stev-v-v-e.” Y/N shivered out in a whisper as more tears flowed down her face.

“Let’s get you warm, everything else can wait.” Steve look charge, peeling her dripping wet coat off of her and pulling her towards his small bathroom. He turned on the hot water and waited until steam began to fill the room. “Leave your clothes in the sink, get in the shower and get warm. I’ll leave some dry clothes right inside the door.”

Y/N nodded, still shivering. The water felt amazing. She washed her face, not even trying to salvage whatever makeup the rain and tears hadn’t destroyed. She washed her hair with Steve’s shampoo. He put her in there, he wouldn’t mind her using his soap. And it smelled divine and so… Steve. Y/N stayed under the spray of water until it began to run cool and turned the water off. She found where Steve had left her a pair of sweatpants with a drawstring, a clean t-shirt and hoodie right inside the door. Ever the gentleman.

After she got dressed and dried her hair as much as she could with a towel and put it up in a messy bun, she stepped out and found Steve sitting on his couch. He set aside the book he was reading when she plopped down on the opposite end.

“I need a place to stay.” Y/N began, knowing Steve was a cut-to-the-chase kind of guy.

“Okay. Wanna tell me why?” He asked gently, not wanting to start her tears again.

“He kicked me out, Steve.” Her tears started again. “I found some texts and emails between him and his secretary and when I confronted him, he blamed me. Said that if I were… well, more, then he wouldn’t have gone looking elsewhere.” More tears came down as she replayed what he had said over again in her mind. She would never be able to forget his cruel words.

“Hey,” Steve moved across the couch and brought Y/N into his arms, resting her head of his chest. “Whatever he said to you, he was wrong. His cheating isn’t your fault, it’s his. No matter how he tried to blame you, it will always be his fault.”

“Are you sure, Steve?” Y/N sobbed against his chest. “What if I drove him to it? What if I nagged him too much or was just so horrible in bed that he just couldn’t take it anymore?”

“I can’t imagine any of those things being true, Y/N.” Steve pulled her back so that he could look into her eyes, his thumbs wiping tears from her cheeks. “Here’s what I think. I think you are amazing!”

“Yeah right.” Y/N rolled her tear-filled eyes.

“No, listen. You are amazing! You are so sweet and kind and you have the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen! I love how you laugh. I love how you think. I love how smart you are and how you teach me things even a preschooler should know. You are so patient with me!”

“Oh Steve, you’re easy to be patient with.” Y/N sniffed, the tears stopping as he continued to hold her face in his strong hands.

“Be that as it may, Y/N, you deserve better than him. You always have.”

“What if there’s not better? What if he was my only shot at happiness?”

“I can promise you that he’s not. I can pretty much guarantee it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just…. Smile. I really need you to smile right now.”

Y/N looked into his blue eyes, felt his strong arms holding her close, and let the corners of her mouth began to turn up in a small smile.

“That’s all I have, Steve.” She said regretfully.

“That’s enough.” Steve stood and pulled Y/N to stand as well, keeping his arm around her shoulders as he steered her into the kitchen. “Let’s get you some food and I promise to work hard to make that smile bigger every day. Sound good?”

“Yeah, Steve. That sounds amazing.”

7 Days of Heaven (Day 1 – Jaebum)

**GIF NOT MINE

Teaser 1 Teaser 2  Prologue  Day 2-MarkDay 3-Jinyoung Day 4-JacksonDay 5-Youngjae  Day 6-Bambam   Day 7-Yugyeom

Characters:  Im Jaebum (JB, GOT7) X You (OC/Reader) X GOT7 members

Genre:  Smut

Warning/s:  Daddy Kink, Lots of Kinky stuff (Hair pulling, Breath play, ass smacking, all that good shit)

Words:  3,771 words

A/N:  OK so here’s Day 1 everyone please read through the warnings so that you won’t feel betrayed or abused or anything haha!

Also, happy 1.4+K followers!  I love you all!! :D


“With whom do you want me to start?”  You muttered under your breath as you stare at Jaebum intently.

“JB!”  Mark shouted from behind you and you look back at him nodding.

“Im Jaebum?  The leader?”  You looked up as if you are trying to remember him. 

“Ohhh…”  Your eyes beamed and the boys looked at you intently.

“He is daddy as fuck.  Lots of smacking, hair pulling…”  You giggled and bit your lip before closing your eyes.

“I would love to call him Daddy while he fucks me.”

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💁🏾 @thecreamycrackrehab
・・・
You guys asked for a tutorial for this #BoxBraids style so here it is 😊
1. Use a hairband to secure the top half of the braids into a ponytail

2. Twist the ponytail into a bun and secure with another hairband
3. Divide the remaining braids into 2 and loosely twist one section
4. Wrap the twisted section around the bun and secure the ends of this section using one of the hairbands securing the bun
5. Repeat the above step on the last section
If you have any questions, comment below or DM me

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Perfect Perfidy

ANGST JUMIN X READER. I pantsed this story pls forgive my sad trash soul.

You hop out of the cab and walk into the large apartment building after paying the driver, for some reason when you had texted Driver Kim to come pick you up he had responded with a text saying he had orders from Mr.Han and could not pick you up. You were confused since Jumin knew you were visiting your parents’ house and needed a ride but you dismissed it and called a cab, deciding to ask Jumin what had happened while you were gone.

You got into the elevator and scanned the penthouse access card, jabbing the highest level with your thumb, in a hurry to go home and meet Jumin after a long day and share a peaceful glass of wine with your love. The elevator door dinged and opened, serving as the front door of your shared penthouse. Instead of normally announcing your arrival like you normally would, you decided to give him a ‘surprise’ instead. You smirked as you walked in quietly after slipping off your black pumps and placing your handbag on the kitchen counter and walked towards his home study only to find the light wasn’t switched on. You furrowed your brows and walked to the main bedroom, you heard a faint groan as you neared the door and … panting?

You sped up in fear that Jumin was in pain and hurt but a light blush covered your face when the thought of him … relieving himself, crossed your mind. You slowly opened the door and your heart sunk as your hand flew up to stop the gasp that was about the escape from your mouth, you stood there silently, as if you were waiting for the scene before you to just disappear, hoping it was just a trick of your eyes but deep down you knew it was real and that you were torturing yourself as you watched, your soulmate, your lover, your husband, Jumin with another woman in the bed you two had previously shared together.

Your vision blurred as tears filled your eyes, you let out a choked sob on accident when you saw her roll her head back in bliss, the bliss that Jumin was giving her. They both snapped their heads toward you once you had made your presence known.

“Juju, who is she?” the woman under Jumin asked, however, her question was answered with silence.

You stared at Jumin and he stared back, however it was hard to specify his expression because of your crying which blurred everything out so you angrily wiped at your eyes with your sleeves and tried to calm yourself down before looking at him again. He looked shocked and guilty, his mouth hanging open and completely unaware that the girl he was screwing crawled out and was redressing herself, you let out a shaky sigh and closed the door and ran out of their like your life was on the line, because you knew, if he called you, you would break.

You paused for a moment as you looked at the ring on your finger, you scoffed and painfully yanked it off your finger and slammed it down on the kitchen counter, grabbing your handbag and slipping your shoes back on and running into the elevator without a second thought as to where you would go or how you would get there, you jabbed your thumb on the carpark button and watched as the doors closed just as you heard him scream your name.

As soon as the doors closed your legs felt like jelly but you didn’t let yourself collapse, you brought out your phone and texted Zen.

I’m coming over, sorry”

Instead of waiting for a reply you switched your phone off and tossed it in your bag, you didn’t want Seven tracking you and you didn’t want to be reminded of Jumin if he called or texted you. You knew you couldn’t go to your mothers as you had just visited and assured her everything was fine, you didn’t know where Seven lived, Jaehee was already stressed as is and Yoosung is still in college, much too young to worry about things like this. Besides Zen was a close friend and you trusted him with your life.

When the doors opened to the carpark you spotted Driver Kim and ran over to him banging harshly against his window, he jumped in fright but when he realised it was just you, he rolled the window down.

“I don’t give a flying fuck what Jumin ordered you to do, I need you to take me Zen’s apartment, now”

Driver Kim nodded and started up the car as you hopped in, grateful he ignored however kind of mess you looked like right now. As you sat there in silence you allowed yourself to cry after sliding the partition up, you wished you could forget what happened, what you saw, but your life revolved around him,  even this flaming car smelt like him.

Your throat seized up as you cried only allowing a loud gasp to pass through once in a while as your lungs burned for air, your eyes swollen from irritation of you repeatedly wiping them and your legs and fingers quivering the entire duration of the ride.

You were a mess.

You felt the car come to a halt and lowered to partition.

“Thank you for the ride and please, I beg you, do not under any circumstances, tell that fucker Jumin where I am" 

With that, you waved Driver Kim goodbye and stepped out of the car before watching him drive off. You turned around to walk into the building but you were already greeted with a soft hug with who you guessed was Zen. His tight embrace triggered your break down and you leaned against him, melting into his arms and nuzzling your face into his chest to muffle your cries. He stroked your hair silently as he rests his chin on top of your head for a couple of minutes before pulling away to look at you, you really wish he hadn’t.

"We should go inside babe, you can tell me all about it tomorrow ok? Did you eat?”

You nodded your head when in fact you haven’t eaten dinner yet, you had lunch at mums and left hers around 5 because you wanted to eat dinner with Jumin but you didn’t really feel hungry. As Zen led you inside, punching in the passcode for his door, you checked your wrist watch, it was almost 7 and you wanted nothing more than a hot shower and sleep.

You and Zen walked in and you were engulfed with warmth, his home smelt like Zen’s cologne, which wasn’t a surprise since he was the only one who lived here. You slipped your shoes off as Zen walked off and you put your bag down as he came back with a towel and a pile of clothes.

“You can borrow my clothes for now and the shower is just down the hall, I’ll sleep on the couch too” Zen instructed, you thanked him and walked into the bathroom, avoiding the mirror as you stripped down, putting your hair up into a bun and stepped into the shower. 

It felt weird to use another man’s body wash but you were too tired to care. You tried to wash away your painful feelings as much as you could until you noticed your pruned fingers, you shut off the water and dried yourself off, accidentally looking in the mirror, it was still slightly foggy but that couldn’t hide your swollen eyes and tired face, despite feeling fresh after a long shower. You sighed and put the clothes on, ditching the track pants because they were too big and Zen’s shirt was practically a dress which hid his soft boxers that you wore underneath.

You walked out of the bathroom as you took you hair out of its up-do and spotted Zen sitting on the couch drinking a can of beer and reading what looked like a script. A thought crossed your mind as you looked at his beer and are reminded of the clenching pain in your chest and anxious feeling in your stomach, you wanted to know what it felt like to drink your feelings away, find out if you really can forget the pain of today.

Zen had noticed your gaze on his drink as you were standing there for some time, at first when he saw you he had blushed, struggling to keep the beast at bay, but when he saw your face his own expressed one of concern. He got up and walked to the fridge grabbing a can of beer and handing it to you.

“Here have one, you’ll feel more at ease”

You grabbed the can after nodding your head in thanks and took a big gulp, the alcohol burned your throat but you liked it this time around, last time you had alcohol was with Jumin and you were drunk and reckless after three glasses of wine, after that fiasco he had banned you from any alcoholic beverages.

You sat down on the couch silently staring into nothing as Zen read his script, his company more comforting than small talk. The more you drank and the more you sat there in silence your mind began to wander, depressing thoughts filled your head as you tried to think of possible reasons why Jumin would do that to you, you knew that you were just a commoner and he was from a world of elites, the two of you were never meant to be, but you couldn’t figure out where you went wrong or when he started showing signs of malcontent.

You sighed as one drink turned into three and three turned into five, you were too tired to cry over this anymore, your eyes were sore and your throat felt scratchy and the alcohol wasn’t helping. You looked over at Zen as he read his script sometimes mouthing the words, his brows were scrunched up in concentration trying to memorise each word, you leant back as you watched him, he was a refreshing sight for you since he wasn’t an elite, you smiled as you felt your senses dim and the feeling of sleep cloak over you.

Zen checked the time on his phone ignoring all the calls and texts he had gotten from the RFA, it was nearing midnight. He looked over at you and found you asleep with your mouth hanging slightly open and smirked as an idea came to him, he opened the camera app on his phone and snapped a couple photos of you laughing as he did, as soon as he was done he picked you up and plopped you onto the bed.

“Jumin? Your hair looks kinda white”

Zen flicked his eyes back to you in surprise, you had grabbed his hand while half asleep thinking he was Jumin and pulled him into the bed with you.

“Can you sleep with me Jumin? You’re warm and I feel cold” you muttered.

Zens heart ached as you said his name again and sighed in frustration as he let you snuggle up to him, clinging to him like a koala would do to a tree. How did Mista trust find kid he manage to steal you away from him even in your sleep, his bed and his house? He scoffed before looking down at you, your face looked peaceful as you slept on his chest, a stark contrast from a couple hours earlier.

He turned on his side and draped an arm around your waist pulling you close, he knew this wasn’t the right thing to do when you were at your worst, it was obvious something major had happened, but he was going to ask you about it tomorrow and to his defence, you had confused him for Jumin, yanked him into the bed and clung to him like a lost child. Just this once he wanted to hold you close while he had the chance. 

He fell asleep holding you close, trying to shield you away from the horrors of the world even in his sleep.

Find part 2 here, part 3 here, part 4 here!

benevolentbridgetroll  asked:

FINN MOTHERFUCKING MALBUS OMG FRIEND DHARMAAVOCADO PLEASE MAKE THIS A THING

FRIEND I AM GOING TO MAKE THIS A THING SO HARD YOU JUST WATCH

Plus this brings together a couple of idea’s I’d been toying with, like Finn being raised by Baze and Chirrut and this post, which I want to write like a 50k fic about.  So let’s get started on making this A Thing. (continuation of this)


Finn was a sweet and quiet child, and when he was not following after them, small legs working so hard even as Baze bent over to hold his hand and keep him steady, he watched with dark eyes, never letting them out of his sight. They took him with them as they went about their duties, usually carried on their hips when Baze’s leg and Chirrut’s back allowed. It grew to be a common sight in the city markets to see them with their son, who tucked his head shyly into Baze’s neck at any attention.

Chirrut had taken to narrating the city to Finn, who gave every appearance of listening closely even as he gaze tracked to take in all the activity. Chirrut was better than him at sensing when something caught Finn’s interest, and they would often sit in the sun listening to musicians plying their trade or watching those making pilgrimages while Finn smiled so sweetly and cuddled close.

Night was the hardest when Finn would wake up more often than not from a nightmare, clutching desperately at them while crying. Those soft sobs were worse than any loud wailing, and Baze murmured to him gently until finally exhaustion took over and Finn slid back to sleep for a few hours before another dream snared him.

“He’s getting better,” Chirrut said after the second time. Finn was tucked firmly between them. Bodhi had given them the crib his own children had slept in, but it saw little use. Finn hated to be parted from them, and Baze would rather suffer through another Scarif than to deny him anything.

Baze ran a hand over Finn’s hair, which was growing in tight coils and would probably need to be cut again soon. They kept it short, like Chirrut’s, for ease of care, but he wondered what style Finn would adopt as he grew. The possibilities, like the years, stretched out before them, and Baze pressed a kiss to the crown of Finn’s head and gave thanks he would live to see them.

“He’s a quiet child,” said Chirrut. “Like you.”

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Can Hell be Heaven?

Note: So remember when I asked about if I should split something or not? Well I didn’t split it, but this just Chapter 1. It has some tecnical bits I’m 90% sure are accurate but if the 10% happens, please do bare with me. Hope you enjoy it.

Synopsis: Against Oliver’s express request Felicity uses her hacker skills to help him and gets caught. As Prometheus plan for Felicity and Oliver unfoils it becomes clear how twisted and evil they really are.

Part 2


The cling echoed inside her head, a spark that spikes the wave of panic to surmount her self-control. Standing with the sheets, a pillow and an ragged blanked she took a deep breath before facing her roommate. The dark haired woman sent her a single glance and kept on ignoring her, laying still on the top bunk.

“Hi.”

An answering cold look, a mocking glance, no other acknowledgement.  Felicity knew this was going to be hard, still nothing had prepared her for this. The undressing, the washing, being nothing more than a number; being stripped from anything that made her a person.

Laying on her bed Felicity reminisces on how she got here. Could she had avoid it?

She knew the answer was yes, but then Oliver would be the one in an orange jumpsuit; Oliver would be the one with his life wrecked. He had worked hard to get a life for himself, she would never allow it to be destroyed, not when it was in her power to prevent it.  

Oliver’s demand for her not to ruin her life sounded has hollow now as it did when she heard it the first time. To have a life being ruined she had to have a life and she didn’t, not anymore. Still it was painful to recall Oliver’s harsh words, he didn’t want her to do it, he didn’t want her taking the risk, she could be caught; he was right, still their last talk was a fight and she wished it wasn’t. She wished she would recall Oliver, if not smiling, at least, not antagonizing her.

“Prisoner 3851”

It takes a moment to register that it’s her new “name”. She stands while the door lock chimes every twist and turn of the key ominously.

Felicity takes a step out the door and waits still for the guard to close the door again. The sight isn’t much better out here, in front of her a row of gray metal doors that she knows mirror the ones behind her.

“Let’s go. You have a visitor.”

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Spicy Peanut Butter Veggie Burger

I see so many food shows that feature (real) burgers that have peanut butter on them, and I’ve always been intrigued as to how peanut butter tastes on a burger, so tonight I made a veggie version for myself! 

Step 1: The sauce: a large spoonful of peanut butter with liberal Sriracha (depends on how spicy you want it).

Mmmmm, spicy and nutty.

Step 2: Grill your veggie patty. I chose a traditional “flame grilled” style that mimics the taste of a burger. I also seasoned it with Montreal Steak Rub for more smoky, off-the-grill goodness.

Step 3: LIGHTLY sauté some kale in oil (and try not to burn yourself in the process).

Step 4: TOAST DEM BUNS (I used a pretzel bun)

Step 5: ASSEMBLE!

Spread about a third of the peanut butter sauce on the bottom bun, then place your kale.

Step 6: BURGER

Step 7: Top with the rest of your spicy peanut butter (it will get all melty on top of the hot patty!).

Step 8: Top with pickles and tomato, or other veggies of choice. I went with the sweeter bread and butter pickles to compliment the PB.

Step 9: ADMIRE YOUR CREATION. TAKE PHOTOS. WOW.

Step 10: Holy shit guys. Holy shit, wow. Fuck me this is a good burger.

The Immortals- Part 22- The Lie

Hi, hello, bonjour :)

Words: 4245

This is a “re-writing” of Imagine Meeting the Originals.

Summary: Elijah finds out his mother is trying to kill him and his siblings.

Please, note that I am French so there might be some mistakes here and there.

I am so sorry this took so long. I didn’t even get to the end of the episode. I wrote all night and it’s over 6AM now and I’m so sorry for the many mistakes I’m sure I made.

I really hope you like it. I’m going to bed now XD

Please, tell me what you think, feedback is always appreciated!

Enjoy ;)

@ladytevans07

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21

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Ashton Irwin Smut - Bruises

Pairing: Ashton and Y/N

Word Count: 4.4k+

Rating: R

Requested: Nope!

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