this is the next tattoo i want

I know everyone’s upset about DaddyOFive, so I’d like to help calm the air by reminding everyone of a great YouTuber dad: Geoff Ramsey.

Seriously, this man is a heavily tattooed drinker who plays video games for a living, and he still manages to be the best dad ever.

There’s a podcast where’s he tells a story about Millie saying she doesn’t trust him as much as her mom, and HE GETS SO DEPRESSED ABOUT IT.

LOOK AT HIM HE JUST WANTS HIS DAUGHTER TO LOOK UP TO HIM SO BADLY.

So next time you’re angry about what DaddyOFive has done to his kids, just remember this guy.  Here’s to Geoff, everyone raise a glass.

spaceprincelance  asked:

what about altean body marks or tattoos? i think that might be a neat idea, especially since it seems as though they already have the marks on their face, why not the rest of the body?

i used this as an excuse to doodle allura in a crop top i’m sorry

Also in regards to Coran, i’m thinkin he might have a tattoo hidden somewhere that he doesn’t want anyone to see. Not that it’s bad it’s just he got it when he was a teenager and it’s embarrassing. Either that or he has a massive one on his back that he thinks is super cool and tough. 

Nine Months - Harry Styles Imagine

No piece of mine has never had as much interest surrounding it as this one has, so thank you for expressing your excitement to me. I hope you’ll find it was worth the wait. (Protip: if you’re reading on mobile, ditch the app and read on Safari or Chrome instead, as the app is prone to close on longer pieces of text).

This one is dedicated to @permanentcross, simply because she’s the best. E has listened to me ramble on and on about this story for longer than anyone should have to. She’s the inspiration behind many things beneath the cut, all of which I will leave up to your own interpretation. 

Without further adieu, I present you with Nine Months…

Keep reading

Day One Hundred

-I felt my spirits lifted as the woman I was ringing up said, “I really like your haircut, buddy.” I then felt them fall back down as I realized she was talking to an unseen, very short child, and not to me. This is okay, though. I like my haircut enough for both of us.

-As I handed a ten year-old girl her bags full of flower-growing kits, she told me that she could not wait to start her business. I am not sure what her exact plans are, but I am prepared to be her first and most loyal patron and give her all the free publicity she could ever want.

-A woman purchased a large bottle of extra-strength laxatives and told me that she did not want a bag. I applaud her bravery and I hope that everything comes out okay.

-I am happy to report that even after one hundred shifts, I still get a deep sense of serenity and satisfaction from even, repeating, and palindromic totals.

-A man came through the next lane, the epitome of indie punk. He had 1" gauges in his ears, adding to his aesthetic, and a detailed tattoo of a snail behind his ear, perfecting it. 

-“Do you sell sunglasses?” A woman asked, her back to a thirty-foot wall of sunglasses.

-The man formerly known as the dude trying to bring back the Hitler mustache has opted to rebrand himself. He has now shaven everything and can be identified as the skinhead with the nose ring trying to make his political affiliations abundantly clear from a distance.

-I looked on in fascination as a dad locked a child in the family bathroom, cackling to himself as he held the door shut. I am still uncertain whether or not the child was his.

-A five year-old stopped at Starbucks as his mother tried to usher him towards the doors. He threw his fists up in the air and shouted out to the heavens, “I want a Cherry Coke and I don’t want to leave!” He then left. I hope, at the very least, he stands firm on his drink.

shiv

///


November 14th.
In the coffee shop,
the man in the
Make America Great Again hat
smiles at me, so I take this
as an invitation.


“Pardon me, but I have to ask—
do you think Trump’s
ideologies keep every person
in this country safe?“


He doesn’t hesitate.


“Ma’am, I can’t get wrapped up
in identity politics, all I can
worry about is how
I’m going to feed my girls.”


///


At my 40th birthday party,
an acquaintance asks
why we have “so much
Mexican art in the house.”

“It might be because I’m Mexican,” I say.

“No,” he laughs, “you’re not Mexican.”

“Yes. I am.”

“No,” he continues, reassuringly,
“and if you are, you’re only, maybe, 17%.“

The winter air stiffens between us.
An old, familiar pain.


///


There was a time when I
would have thanked him.


The early years,
when I wanted only to pass,
to rid myself of my last name—
the dead giveaway,
its muddy lineage


crawl out from the burying shame
that held me down every time
my father picked me up
from school in our shitty car,
his bushy mustache
& brown face
magnified by the sun.


///


A local white woman
posts a photo of her new tattoo:
a Mayan god etched eternal
on her flesh. When I point out
the disrespect, she assures me
she speaks Spanish fluently,
spent three years
in South America.


For the next six hours,
I argue with her friends.
They demand I quit being so
divisive. Judgemental. Close-minded.


“We have a racist running for President,
and you’re complaining about a tattoo?”
asks the white boy, who spray paints
murals all over this city
with impunity.


O, to be permitted the luxury
of only worrying about one thing at a time.


O, to be white in America,
to wake up knowing every god is your god.


///


When you never see yourself,
you search for yourself all the time.


You know the white girl
in the sombrero isn’t you.
The bro dude in Calavera makeup
isn’t either, not the ponchos
and glued on mustaches,
not the lowrider Chevy
in the Disney movie
or the hoochie-coochie
sex pot on the Emmy
award-winning television show.


Maybe you are only this:


the scorched bird pulled
from the chimney,
covered in soot.
Not the actual bird,
its velvet sack
of jigsaw’d bones,
but the feeling
of recognition.


The ash of knowing.


///


A white comedian tells this joke:
“I used to date Hispanics,
but now I prefer consensual.”


The audience laughs.
And you do, too.
Until the punchline hardens,
translates into a stone
in your throat.


You swallow it, like you always do.


You don’t change the channel,
but you also can’t remember
a single joke she tells after that.


A few months later, the comedian’s career
blows up. She’s so real. So edgy.
Such a hardcore feminist.
When someone writes an essay on
her old stand-up routines—
noting her blindspot when it comes to race,


her response is:


“It is a joke and it is funny.
I know that because people laugh at it.”


///


If two Mexicans are in a car, who is driving?
A police officer.


How do you starve a Mexican?
Put their food stamps in their work boots.


What’s the difference between a Mexican and an elevator?
One can raise a child.


What do you call a Mexican baptism?
Bean dip


How do you stop a Mexican from robbing your house?
Put a help wanted sign in the window.


What do you call a Mexican driving a BMW?
Grand theft auto


What do you call a Mexican without a lawnmower?
Unemployed


What do you call a building full of Mexicans?
Jail


How do you keep Mexicans from stealing?
Put everything of value on the top shelf.


What do you call a bunch of Mexicans running downhill?
A mudslide.


Why don’t Mexicans play Hide ’n Seek?
No one will look for them.


What does a Mexican get for Christmas?
Your TV.


What do you call the Arizona man shot to death
by his white neighbor, screaming, “Go back to Mexico!”
Juan Varela


///


November 29th.
For weeks, I’ve avoided
eye contact with strangers.
My face is a closed curtain.
My mouth, the most
decorated knife.
I pay for groceries,
grab the receipt &
let my half-hearted
thank yous trail like smoke.
I no longer want to see
who refuses to see me.


Anyone is everyone.


///


December 1st.
I keep waking up.
There isn’t anyone
white enough to stop me.


Pantomime the living until
the body remembers:
wicked bitch. Bloodwhirl.
Patron Saint of the Grab Back.


Still. Still. Still. Still. Still. Still here.


///


I etch my own face upon my wicked flesh.
I am my own devastating god.

 


Rachel McKibbens, Dec. 2016

anonymous asked:

im a baby larry, are they any fics that are like THE FICS that i need to read?

hi peach!

CLASSIC FICS (MUST-READS)

These are some of my favorites!

***Don’t forget to read the tags on these fics! Have fun and happy reading!

Ink and Kisses

Anon said to moi:

“Omg i want a tattoo artist jungkook!!!!!! 😭😩 smut/fluff/and honestly anything!!!! I just love tattoos artists jungkook but there aren’t alot of those fanfic…. can u help a poor girl out ??💖”

FIRst time trying a Tattoo artist AU. I had to do some reading before this, and JK is sO sexy i s2g. Still weird that I don’t really ever feel like doing the do with him. HOPE YOU ENJOY <3 1,400 Words

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Tattooist au!

Part 1 | Part 2 (FINAL)

Originally posted by nnochu

No one would have ever imagined that hardcore badass Jeon Jungkook, the most well-known tattoo artist in the town, the guy who dropped out to follow his passion, was best friends with beautiful, sweet, top-scoring university student, Y/N. 

Physically, they seemed to be polar opposites. He had dragons inked onto his skin, three piercings on his left ear and two on his right, and always wore black; whilst you were a bright, clean slate – but you knew that was what he loved about you.

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I should be writing a paper but (OTP PROMPTS)

- “Okay so I was dared to go into this haunted house, and not only is it not haunted, a nice old lady and her really pretty granddaughter live here and they invited me over for dinner next week”

-”So I dated your friend and we broke up because she assumed that I had a crush on you after meeting you. She wasn’t wrong.”

-”So I was driving to my parents house in the middle of a blizzard when my car broke down. You noticed I was here and offered me a ride, do you maybe want to get some cocoa later?”

- “So you came over to my house mad that I dumped your friend, so you keyed my car and kicked me in the balls. The next day you came over to apologize after finding out that I dumped her cause she cheated on me, oddly I still think your cute.”

-”You transferred to my school this year and I have been showing you around for the past few weeks. You get along really well with my friends and they think you and I are dating. I am not against the idea.”

- “Someone was grabbing my butt and you decked them so hard he lost a tooth. Do you want to get coffee sometime?”

- “We both got really drunk at a party and ended up getting matching tattoos. Laser surgery is expensive and going out on a date would be cheaper.”

“ You have been my best friend for years, how dare you get really hot and… Omg is that a six pack?”

8

…I wonder if that was actually a good decision to make there, Kuroo

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anonymous asked:

magical tattoos? like tattoos with special properties or they move around on skin or smth?

  • After turning 18, every kid is required to go to special tattoo parlor where the town’s resident mage gives them a tattoo. No one knows what the tattoo will be until it’s done, not even the mage. The tattoo forms itself into a symbol that will become very important in the person’s life. On Character A’s 18th birthday, their tattoo forms itself into a crown.
  • Character A convinces their best friend, Character B, to go get a tattoo. Not wanting anything big, Character B gets a small flower on their back. The next morning, Character A gasps when they see Character B’s entire back covered in vines and leaves and flowers, and they only seem to be spreading further.
  • Everyone gets one tattoo in their life, and that tattoo gives them a power of their choosing. Character A really wants the power to see through objects, so they get a pair of eyes. However, after a series of visions, they come to realize the power that manifested was actually seeing into the future.
  • “I’m a mage and have been searching for an apprentice for years by pushing a little bit of magic into everyone tattoo I give, just to see if anyone reacts to it. None had, until I gave you yours. The second the needle touched your skin, ink started flowing into patterns everywhere. Please stop freaking out” AU
  • When tattoos start appearing on one’s body overnight, it’s a sign that they’re meant to join the War of Magic. However, Character A’s parents are major pacifists and hate the war, so Character A begins their own struggle as they try to hide the growing tattoos their parents.
  • “I’ve been told all my life that moving tattoos were normal – a sign of being healthy. But I don’t think that means the tattoos are supposed to come off of my skin and fly around? Cause that’s why I’ve been hiding out in my room all week” AU
Soulmates feel one anothers’ pain AUs

Meeting

  • ‘I came to stop this street fight because that really big punch you just recieved made me scream at a cashier. Also are you injured?’ AU
  • ‘This public toilet has a knuckle-shaped hole in the wall, is this anything to do with you? Because five minutes ago it felt like my knuckles were on fire’ AU
  • ‘Holy shit you just got stabbed, you need help but also god my stomach feels like it’s exploding’ AU
  • ‘I think you’re my soulmate because you’re biting your lip and mine’s hurting now’ AU
  • ‘I just banged my knee on that table over there and you hissed in pain, dude I think we’re soulmates’ AU

Others:

  • ‘Please don’t touch that flame, I’m/we’re in a public place and I don’t want to scream’ AU
  • ‘Why do you insist on taking out staples by hand?’ AU
  • ‘Please don’t hurt yourself, I can’t stand seeing you in pain and nor could I stand the pain myself knowing why I feel it’ AU
  • ‘For the love of God use oven gloves next time, my boss was about to promote me when I swore in their face’ AU
  • ‘I can feel your stress headache is everything okay?’ AU
  • ‘I came to find you at work to tell you to stop knocking so violently on your coworker’s office door’ AU
  • ‘Why must you get a tattoo whilst I’m trying to sleep?’ AU
6

Can you believe I actually sat down and lined this personally I can’t

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Desperate Times (Joker x Reader)

Okay. I’m so sorry guys, I know it’s been about 80000 years since I’ve posted but I’ve just had really bad writers block and I’ve been really busy with work and school and whatnot but here it is. 

This was a request from an anon: “Could you please make an imagine where the reader is given to Mistah J because they were in debt to him. He immediately because super obsessed with her, but the reader is very scared of him <3 <3″ 

This is like decently close to the request just i couldn’t figure out what to write. I’m sorry!!!!! 

——————————————————————————————-

“Please, no Mr. Joker, I’ll give you anything. You can have anything.” You saw the man beg for his life, for another chance. It disgusted you to see him like this. To see the man you once knew as your father beg for drugs. You shook your head in disgust and turned away. You had no idea why but he insisted you be there with him, maybe it’s ‘cause he knew it could very well be one of his last days, if not his last.

“Anything?” The green haired man purred as he circled your father. Your father nodded and looked you in the eyes as if he were apologizing. Confusion clouded your mind as to why he would be apologizing. Maybe it was for being a shitty father, or for making you witness this horrid interaction.

“You can have my daughter,” he stated simply. You eyes snapped open and your back straightened.

“Excuse me? No you can’t have me and what the fuck dad?” You said in disbelief.

“Oh she’s feisty, I like her. You’ve got yourself a deal there Mr. You can keep your life, and your drugs, in exchange for this lovely creature,” he said as his looked you up and down, drinking in every detail of your body.

“No. Dad what the hell is wrong with you? You’re not actually serious are you?” Your voice dropped as the look in his eyes confirmed that he was in fact serious about selling you to the Joker.

“I’m sorry Y/N. There’s nothing else I can do,” he muttered, embarrassed that he had gotten to this point. Your heart broke as you watched the man you once looked up to pick drugs over his own daughter.

“Oh we are going to have so much fun together little miss Y/N,” the Joker snarled in your ear. You flinched as his hands came down on your shoulders.

“Dad… How could you?” He looked down in shame and walked out of the room without a word. Tears were streaming steadily down your face as you stared at the door he had just left through.

“Hm. Dads, am I right?” The Joker broke the silence in the room. “Hi doll face, I’m the Joker, the man that your father is seriously indebted to, and you belong to me now! You can call me Mr. J,” he said, extending a hand towards you as if to shake hands. You glanced down at his hand and ignored the offer. “Oh sweetheart now that’s just rude. That won’t fly doll. Tsk, tsk, tsk. Gonna have to teach you a lesson then. Take a seat,” he said as he pulled you down to sit next to him. His face got serious and you knew you were in trouble. “You belong to me now. That means you do what I want, when I want, and where I want. If you disobey me sweetcheeks, you get punished. Are we clear doll face?” He gripped your cheeks, forcing you to look at him. You nodded and he released your face. “What’s your name sweets?”

“Y/N,” you said simply. He stared at you with a bored look as if he was expecting you to say more. You stared back in defiance and he let out a long displeased groan.

“Not a talker are we? I can change that y’know,” he said with a maniacal smile as he pulled his shiny gun out of the holster under his jacket. He lifted the gun and caressed your soft cheeks with the cool, hard metal. You stared him dead in his crazy eyes as he tried to scare you with the powerful weapon in his hands. His face fell as he realized you weren’t scared and you wouldn’t open up to him. “Now tell me doll, am I gonna have to find some other ways of getting you to open that pretty mouth of yours?”

“Fine. What do you want to know. You get three questions, choose wisely,” you said, boredom dripping in your words. Your father had dragged you in to a world of guns and violence, this was not the first time you had been threatened at gun point and you had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last.

The Joker raised his non-existent eyebrow and stared you down. He was vastly impressed by your cool composure and lack of fear. Most in your shoes would be trembling, begging for their dear lives but you, you just sat there, bored with his games and his old intimidation tactics.

“And who do you think you are making demands?” He sneered angrily.

“I’m just trying to get this show on the road. Question one, two more to go. Like I said Mr. J, choose wisely.”

“I like your spunk sweetcheeks. Alright, why aren’t you scared? Most people would be terrified out of their minds, why not you?” He inquired.

“You’re not the first basket case my father has pissed off. I’ve been tied down, beat, interrogated, the works. I’m used to it now. My father owes a lot of people a lot of money but what they always fail to realize is that I mean little to nothing to him. I must admit, I’m a little impressed. You’re different than the others. He’s offered me up before y’know? No one’s ever agreed but you, you fell for it,” you explained. He stared at you with a confused look spread across is tattooed porcelain skin. “Stop staring,” you said.

He stared at you open mouthed and went to wrap his hand around your neck only to retract quickly. “You doll, are special, that’s for sure. I can’t wait for all the fun we’re going to have. Last question, do you like the left or the right side of the bed?” He threw his head back as he howled with laughter, his infamous laugh ringing through your ears and the small room you two were seated in.

You rolled your eyes and mentally groaned at the stupidity of this man. “Right,” you said as you got up from the small couch. “Can we go now? I would really like to get out of here and take a shower. I’m assuming there’ll be towels and whatnot ready for me? Clothes maybe?” He shook his head at you and wrapped his hand in your hair and yanked back.

“Now listen here Y/N, just because you’re not scared of me doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be. I’m sure you’ve heard of some of the things I’ve done and trust me honey, I can do worse,” he spoke in a deep, threatening voice. You felt the tip of his gun press against the center of your back. You had to admit that you were a little scared. The other men you dealt with were nothing like him. He was deadly, ruthless, and he could crack at any moment. “Now that we have the all cleared up let’s get this show on the road shall we?” His mood switched instantly.

A while later you pulled up to a lavish place. You were unsure of what to expect from him but you figured it shouldn’t surprise you that he lives in such an extravagant set up. He pulled you up from your elbow and you followed him inside. It was beautiful as you had expected upon seeing the outside of the house. Gold everything, marble counters, purple accents strewn around the house.

You glanced around, taking in what would be your new house.

“It’s beautiful,” you mumbled to yourself mostly. His hands came down on your shoulders in a gentle way, his hands travelling up and down your shoulders. You leaned your head to the side allowing a pleasant stretch to the tense muscles of your neck. “Do you live here all alone?” you inquired.

“No, the maid lives here, a few of my more trusted henchmen, for security measures. Not that I couldn’t protect myself, just don’t wanna do all the work myself,” he answered. You hummed in acknowledgement and continued to scan the room around you. “The room’s upstairs, I already had some of my men pick up your stuff from your father’s place, if you need anything else just tell me and I’ll send someone out to get it,” he said as he walked to the kitchen. You nodded, and dragged yourself up to what looked like a spare room. You plopped down on the bed and let out a long sigh.

So this is what my life is like now, you thought to yourself, looking around the lavish room. Joker stepped up to the doorway and stared you down before sitting down next to you on the big fluffy bed. “Why am I here Joker?”

“Please, call me Mr. J, Joker sounds… Too formal. I want you here because you’re a beautiful girl, your father did me wrong, and I want to make him pay.”

“Hah… Well jokes on you Mr. J. My father doesn’t care about me. Keeping me here is doing nothing but giving him the chance to shamelessly waste away without me yelling at him. You’re doing him a favor,” you explained. He nodded and spread a wide silver grin across his pale tattooed face.

“Y’know doll, maybe I just want your lovely company,” he said sarcastically.

“Y’know, maybe I just can’t stand your company,” you retorted. Before you could react, his hand came across your skin with a harsh sting. The force behind it made you fall back and place a tender touch on your cheek. You looked down, cowering away in fear. You loved to put on the tough girl act. Sure, you had dealt with crazies but nothing that ever came close to the Joker.

A slow tear dripped down your soft cheek. His eyes widened at the realization that he had made you cry. “Can you please leave me alone,” you muttered.

“Shit Y/N are you okay doll?” His voice was a bit quieter than before.

“Please just leave.” You were shaking, terrified to be in the same room as this psychotic, dangerous man.

“What’s wrong sweets?” You looked at him with a look of disbelief.

“You just slapped me across the face. If I’m being totally honest, I’m terrified right now. You scare the living daylights out of me. The moment I saw you I was scared for my life. I don’t want you in here. If I’m going to have to live with you I want to be left alone… I don’t want to be scared for my life. Please just go…” He looked at you, shock on his face.

“Alright. If you need something you can let someone know.” He placed a hand on your hunched back and left.

A small part of you felt bad for banishing him from your life but it wasn’t right for him to treat you in such an awful manner. You let out a sigh and laid down on the comfortable bed. Before you knew it you had slipped in to a deep sleep, forgetting about the disaster your life had become.

home : hs

Request: Yes (this one)

Pairing: Harry Styles x Y/N

Word count: 1,442

Warnings: Cursing (one or two!)

What are you about to read: Y/N getting inked by Harry

Requests open!

Originally posted by tmlnsn

Harry wasn’t a sap. Oh god, he wasn’t. but when it comes to Y/N, he couldn’t help but feel a tad whipped.

It was when he saw his friend Jeff getting a tattoo of his girlfriend’s hometown coordinates on his arm. As much as it seemed creepy and strange, he couldn’t help but letting the idea of having something from Y/N tattooed forever on his body creep into his mind.  

It was after a week when they managed to take some time to themselves and chill at Y/N’s small but cozy apartment in downtown London. They were sat on Y/N’s tiny bed (it was a double sized bed but Harry’s feet were always left outside) and she had her arms around him. He could feel her warm breath on his neck.

“I don’t want them to see my boobs, ‘s all.” He could almost sense her eyebrows furrowing behind him while she continued stroking his biceps.

“Love, they don’t care ‘bout yeh boobs, they only care ‘bout the money they’ll be receiving” Harry shook his head and a few strands fell on his forehead, making Y/N lean over and kiss his forehead from where she was seated behind him.

Harry was slowly regretting the whole tattoo idea. He knew Y/N liked his tattoos and sure, she had a couple of small ones here and there but he wanted to go and get one together. And not because he wanted to get matching ones, Harry wasn’t into that whole idea of getting hearts and flowers with your lover.

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I Want It Fast, I Want It Loud, I Want It My Way

a/n: THIS PICTURE FUCK. i’ve rode many of things in my lifetime. ;-) just not a thigh, so this might not be accurate but heyyyyyyyyy it’s fine. and if we’re gonna be honest here, how many of y'all actually even rode a dick? let alone a thigh hahaha.  love y'all :-) (smut warning obviously) 


I’m tired. I can feel the familiar ache in my body. I want nothing more than to go home and sleep for hours on end with no interruption. “C'mon, love, lets go.” I whine into Harry’s ear. His arm that is wrapped around my hip tightens, “okay, hold on.” He absentmindedly replies. I huff out. I don’t want to hold on. What the hell am I supposed to hold on to anyways? I notice a chair on the other side of the room and I instinctively follow to it. 

 When I am seated, I rest my head against the wall and close my eyes. “Alright, up you get. It’s time to go, yeah?” Harry awakes me from my quick nap, a whine slips from my lips as I’m placed on my feet. “No.” Harry chuckles lowly as he bends down and urges me to get on my back. A sleepy smile etches on my face as I climb onto him. He stands up with ease. My head falls onto his shoulder as I fall asleep with Harry’s scent lingering around me. 

 * 

 It’s hot. I can feel sweat seeping through my shirt. 

My eyes open and adjust to the darkness. The clock reads three-thirty A.M., I can hear Harry’s breathing next to me. It’s relaxing. His arms are pulled under his pillow as he lies his head on it, curly hair flopping over. His mouth is slightly ajar, and I can’t help but look at his lips. They are such a nice shape, they’re so pink and full. The shirt I have on is soaked through with sweat as I peel it off my scorching body. The cool air soothes my skin and I sigh with relief. 

With my head back onto my pillow, I continue to stare at sleeping Harry. How can one human have so much beauty to them? Not just his looks either, he has a beautiful soul as well. My eyes skim back to his lips. God, his lips. If only they were kissing me right now. Down my neck, onto my collar bone. Biting and nipping, leaving a hickey in its place. 

 I play with the idea of waking him up just to do that, but he needs his sleep. When I make up my mind to be a good girlfriend, I groan and roll over. I hate that I’m a good person sometimes. My head is still spinning with the thought of Harry kissing me all over as I close my eyes and try to sleep. Minutes pass before I huff out and grab my phone. 

Looks like I’m not going to be sleeping tonight. One perk of having a famous boyfriend is that I can look up smut about him and totally try it the next time we have sex. And that’s what I do. I head over to my Tumblr app and type in “Harry Styles smut”. The first thing that pops up is an ask. The ask reads “OKAY but imagine riding harry’s thigh i Am HURT. You would grind down on him and it would hit your clit just right and his hands would leave marks on your hips and he could feel you soaking through his jeans, and he just gets off to you getting off FUCK”. 

 Okay what in the hell is thigh riding and why am I so wet now? My mind starts racing after smut with thigh riding involved. I’ve never heard of thigh riding, but I’m already liking it. I stay up a few more minutes, maybe hours, who really knows? Looking at smut that includes thigh riding. I’m aching for the feeling of it right now. My internal conflict is raging inside me and I think I have to wake Harry. The sleeping boy next to me looks so peaceful. How could I wake him up just to ride his thigh? I can feel myself pulsing for this feeling. “Fuck.” I groan out, I can’t wait any longer. My hand starts to shake his sleeping body, “Harry.” All he does is let out a soft groan. This is going to be harder than I thought. With a swift pull from the covers, both of our bodies are uncovered. 

Harry is naked from his hips up and he looks fucking great. The tattoos sprawled across his toned body never looked so appealing in my life. I want to run my tongue over everyone of them. Black  shorts that were around my hips fall off with a swift motion from my arms, my underwear following. Fire is in my veins. Harry visibly shutters from the loss of the covers but I climb on top of him to bring him warmth.

 "Y/N?“ He mutters, his voice raspier and deeper from sleep. Fuck, I’m literally dripping for this green eyed man. “Baby, I want to try something..” I say while unleashing kisses to his jaw and neck. “At-” He stops to check the time, “5:47 in the morning?” Huh, guess I was looking at smut longer than I thought. “Yes baby, please, I’m literally dripping for you. Plus, you have to get up an hour anyways for work.” I moan out, I can already feel his erection through his pajama pants. “Well if you insist.” He smirks. “What did you want to try?” He sits up holding me in his lap. My legs are by each of his hips and his large hands are roaming my back, hips, and thighs. “Well it’s kinda weird, but I really want to try it.” I tug my lip into my teeth, nervously awaiting his response. “Yeah? What’s it then love?” “Well- I- just- let me show you. Take off your pants.” I instruct with a shaky voice, he obliges as he lifts me off his lap. He is left in his tight boxer briefs. 

I manage to mount back onto his lap, positioning myself over his left thigh. “What’re you doing babe?” Harry asks me with puzzlement in his eyes. “Just..” I moan out as I begin to move hips on his lap. The contact of my clit to his thin boxers form incoherent moans. Harry’s hands move to my hips, gripping them. “Oh so you like thigh riding, huh?” Harry’s voice is like gravel on a road sending me to move faster as his hands insinuate rapid movements. My head nods feverishly as he moves me faster. I feel his lips attach to my breasts, sucking lightly. 

Curls are in my hands as I rock back and forth in his thigh. Cotton boxers against my clit work expertly together with the collaboration of my movements and Harry’s lips. Pleasure is racing through me leaving a beating heart and restless moans. Thoughts are construed in my mind as I try to piece together all the overwhelming things that are enveloping around me. Fuck, I’m so close. “Harry…” I moan out and he gets the hint. His inked hands grip my love handles tighter and my moves pick up pace as we move with the rhythm of an imaginary tempo. “Come for me.” Harry barely whispers in my ear as he adds a nibble to my ear lobe and before I can stop myself, I am sent over the top. An orgasm rattles through me with blacked out vision and shaking hands. Spearmint surrounds me as my head collapses into Harry'a shoulder. “I didn’t know you were into that.” Harry’s voice flows out to me and I laugh, “Yeah I didn’t either.” The clock now reads six-fifteen. 

Before Harry can react, I roll off of him and fall into my spot on our bed. The covers are pulled up over me, I hum in response. “Get some sleep, my angel.” Are words I hear before I drift off.

Update on top surgery, probably not getting surgery until next year which has really had an impact on my dysphoria and depression.

But that just means I have time to get my body in the best shape possible, KT tape has now saved me from binding and has made day to day life easier.

Happy with where I am currently however I want more so that’s what I’m going to go do.