vivid lips

bad | 06

He was the cliché bad boy. He was the guy you couldn’t stand. He was the handsome, hot kid who made girls go weak in the knees. He was a brat. You had never liked him one bit, but you had also never gotten involved with anything concerning him. Until one day, when you were in the wrong place, at the wrong time.

Originally posted by jjks

MEMBER: jeon jungkook x reader (ft. kim taehyung)

GENRE: future smut, romance, fluff, angst(?), badboy!au

WORDS: 5 125

WARNINGS: mature themes, language

| 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07coming soon ↠ 

A/N: here IT IS! for all you children who are waiting for smut, do not worry, I know. just be patient ;) remember, everything happens for a reason. don’t kill me for this.

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Fixer-Upper [h.s.]



The situation Y/N had found herself in was very rare and unnatural considering she was normally very mindful and cautious of these types of circumstances, especially now during class. It was odd and uncomfortable– boy, was it uncomfortable– and it made her feel hollowly awkward and flustered with anxiety.

It had happened to her a handful of times because, naturally, thinking about Harry can get her wound up pretty tight if just the right explicit thoughts managed to wriggle themselves in from the recesses of her mind. Thoughts that she wouldn’t allow herself to dwell on too much while in public because making herself horny in front of her peers was utterly stupid. But this time, Y/N wasn’t really able to control it. It snuck up on her and when set into motion, she just couldn’t make it stop. It was like trying to halt a neutral FedEx truck from rolling down a hill only by pulling it with bare hands– hopeless and blatantly impossible.

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Just peachy 🍑. Get the look with #cityminis in ‘downtown sunrise’, #lashsensational mascara #mastercontour duo stick, and #vividhotlacquer in ‘charmer’.

makeup: Jordan Liberty 

model: Makayla London 

photography: Marcelo Cantu

Delicate Lace

One word prompt request – “Lace” for Sherlolly, from @strangelock221b

Delicate Lace

Her skin was pale and promised a softness that he hadn’t experienced in years; a direct contrast to the delicate black lace that peeked over the gaudy rhinestones that decorated her dress.  

She was, as always, pretty. But with her hair down and her lips painted vivid red, for the first time Sherlock saw that she could be truly beautiful.  The potential was there; had always been there, even though he’d refused to acknowledge it before that moment.  Were Molly draped across his bed, wearing only that tantalizing lace with her hair spread across his pillow, the urge to fall to his knees in supplication before her would have been impossible to resist.

The ache of want that rolled across his nerves made him uncomfortable.  He needed to put a stop to those sorts of intrusive thoughts.  Immediately.  His gaze took in every detail of the room and Molly, looking for something to draw his focus.

There.  Her bag of presents.

His eyes narrowed as he took in the perfectly wrapped gift, and his skin went cold with the shock of an emotion he dared not name.

“I see you’ve got a new boyfriend, Molly, and you’re serious about him.”

One Dance

Based on this headcanon I wrote about Barry’s Bachelor Party.

“We’re doing this, Bear. And that’s the final word.”

“Excuse me: since when does anyone other than the groom that you’re supposedly celebrating have the final word on anything?”

“Since you asked me to be your Best Man, Genius,” Cisco retorts. “If you don’t like it, think twice before putting that much power in my hands, power that only these Vibe hands could harness,” he taunts, wiggling his fingers.

“It’s not too late to change that decision,” Barry retaliates, still surveying Cisco haughtily as he turns towards his future brother-in-law. “Wally?”

“Yeah, I’d rethink that move,” Wally smirks. “Because if you’re under the impression that I’d turn down an opportunity to see you out of your element at your own Bachelor Party, you don’t know me at all, Bro.” He elbows him for added measure. “And do you REALLY deserve to marry my sister if that’s the case?”

“Come on Wally,” Barry pleads. “I can’t even get drunk. You can’t even get drunk!”

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LOONA Solo MVs by Views

Some of LOONA’s MVs are lagging behind in views, so I figured this list could help LOONA fans to stream the lesser viewed MVs.

If any LOONA fans could spare some time to join me in streaming Hyunjin and Vivi’s MVs, I’m sure all of LOONA would appreciate it!

The Girl as White as Snow

The Queen, dressed in widow’s black, gazed upon her baby girl and wept. She wept, for in her girl she could see exactly what her father wished for (before his untimely demise): skin as white as snow, hair as dark as a raven’s wing, lips as red as blood. People from far and wide came to bless and pray for the child, the only heir her father produced, which she received with only screams and howls – all she could muster as a new-born babe.

Time passed, and the girl, known to all as Snow White, was almost 16: almost of age. The winter set in once more, just as it had done all those years ago when she was born. She was now fairest in all the land, and every man’s heart was hers to control. Many suitors had fallen at her feet, begging for her hand in marriage, but none had yet slipped a ring on the hand of Snow White. None had yet tamed the soon-to-be Princess, not even her mother, who grew more sick by the day. It was not a sickness of the body, that could be cured with potions and healing hands, but a sickness of the mind. Her behaviour grew more and more erratic: she refused any man who asked her hand in marriage and spent her days attempting to govern the kingdom, leaving her daughter in the care of various nannies.

“It was the shock of finding her husband so brutally murdered that pushed her over the edge" was a popular rumour. Others said “she broke a mirror the very day she gave birth, and so was cursed with eternal misfortune". But all agreed that, despite behaving most unladylike, she was the best ruler the land had ever known.

The Queen requested her daughter meet her in the highest room of the tallest tower the day she turned 16, as tradition dictates she must. Snow climbed all 1,816 stairs (she counted), and prepared to enter the room where she would become a Princess, for within that elevated chamber would come the private coronation that every Princess must take. Every girl who entered the room before had left a woman, wearing the ancestral tiara and possessing the knowledge of all her royal duties.

Snow entered the chamber to see the Queen kneeling over a looking glass that had shattered into – 10, 12, 13! - pieces. Her mother turned around hurriedly and asked her to “Close the door, my dear”. Snow did as she was told, the very image of obedience. The Queen picked up the pieces of shattered glass and placed them back within the frame. By some power of chance, all the pieces fell back into place; the mirror could once again reflect the room. “Look! there’s a piece missing,” cried Snow, seeing the exposed sliver of oak back. “Yes,” replied the Queen coldly, as she raised the piece above Snow’s head and aimed for her heart.

Snow turned and ran down the steps, two at a time (so there were only 908). The Queen followed her, holding the shard of mirror the way a hunter brandishes a knife.

Out into the woods Snow White ran, away from her mother – her murderous mother. The cunning Queen took the sharp shard of mirror to her side, and feigned that the terrible injury was from her own daughter. The entire kingdom was told that Snow White was guilty of treason and should be killed on sight. Snow White became the most sought-after woman in the land thereafter, for the Queen offered unimaginable riches for her execution – as long as you brought the heart to prove it.

After hours upon hours of running through sharp branches and tripping over malformed roots, Snow came across a small cottage. She knocked, waited. The door was answered by a dwarf, short in stature and hearty in beard. He invited her to come in and sit by the fire, and the girl willingly obeyed. When her eyes became accustomed to the cottages gloomy interior, she realised there was not just one, but seven dwarfs who lived here – each powerfully built from their traditional mining labour and each eyeing her up with a kind of dark curiosity. They did not trust this girl who arrived suddenly on their doorstep, but they felt drawn to protect her – she looked weak and carried with her an omen of darkness. It didn’t take her long to convince them that she needed defending; she had only just begun her story of maternal betrayal when they all begged her to stay with them until she was safe. And so, Snow White became the dwarfs domestic, staying at home every day whilst they went off to work.

Not that she did her chores alone; she would ask the creatures of the woods to aid her in the mundane tasks of washing and ironing. In fact, Snow did very little work at all, as the birds were all too eager to help her wash and the rabbits would do their very best to iron. Deer would make the evening stew. Every day the same for a whole year.

But then the Queen found her. Ever since the day her self-inflicted wound had healed, she had searched for her daughter high and low. The moment she found the cottage, led to it by some pull of fate or by some maternal instinct, she knew Snow White was inside it. She reached for the knife in her basket and entered the house, without knocking, without a sound. Inside, it was chaos; woodland animals were busy completing chores. At the centre of it all sat Snow White, bent over something on a stool. She was completely absorbed in her task, oblivious to her surroundings, and completely still; she was the eye of the storm. The Queen stepped over bounding rabbits, ducked under tweeting birds and approached her target. Her victim was within arm’s reach; she’d be dead before she knew it. But then Snow White span around to face her assailant.

Lips red with blood.

A deer carcass fell to the floor before the Queen, as if it was a kind of peace offering.

Her chin, once white as snow, stained crimson.

The Queen, however, would not be pacified by the perverted image before her; her eyes burned with the rage of Medea. She will not let her husband’s legacy live on through this child, the child she did not want, had never wanted. She staked her husband through the heart the day she realised what he was, and now she stabbed her daughter in the same fatal location.

The girl’s raven-black hair shimmered in the golden light breaking through the window, as if calling “Murder! Murder!”. Her sharp fangs had chomped and torn her lips in a final, manic thrashing; her mouth was left smeared with crimson foam. Blood had welled up around the blade and darkened the fabric of her dress.

The dwarfs came home from their work at the mines to this bloody scene and saw they had failed, their promise to protect the girl had been broken. It was with heavy heart that they mopped up the bloodstains and cleaned up the damned girl’s corpse. They tried to remove the fatal dagger from her breast, but it would not move from its final resting place. In death, she looked far sweeter, more beautiful, more innocent than she ever did whilst breathing; they decided to display her in a glass coffin for all to see, letting the world know how cruelly it treated the poor Snow White.

The winter melted into spring. Leaves on the trees began to sprout, green and new. The icy path defrosted and grass started to spring up underfoot. Snow White had been entombed within crystal: dead amongst the living. The contrast between her pale skin and the bright colours of a new year only heightened her beauty, accentuated the slight flush of the cheek and the vivid red lips. You would’ve said she lived was it not for the hunting knife that was lodged in her chest.

A Prince from another land was travelling the path that runs by the wood to pay his respects to the soon-to-be remarried Queen. After releasing the news of her daughter’s demise, it did not take long for her to find a husband (more suitable than the last) and now she was hosting what was assured to be the wedding of the age. The Prince’s horse trotted along the dusty yellow road, the cool of the evening began to set in. Suddenly, he was blinded by the pink light of dusk being reflected off something within the wood. He climbed off his horse and found, to his astonishment, the cause of this to be a large glass coffin. Inside it, the fairest woman he had ever seen. He was so enamoured by her looks, the he spent what seemed an age gazing at the corpse. His silent worship was soon interrupted by the dwarfs, passing by on their way home to pay their respects to their fallen star.

Made bold by the girl’s beauty, the Prince asked the dwarfs if he could take the girl with him. The dwarfs dearly loved the girl so, after much debate, told the Prince that the girl was his if he could remove the blade from her breast – confident that he would fail, as they had all tried themselves, and they were all more powerful than the Prince due to the intensity of their line of work. With all the glee of a gold-spinning imp, the leader opens the casket to allow the Prince to attempt his task.

The young man gingerly strokes the cheek of Snow White, the object of his adoration. It’s stone cold. The warm blush deceives him. Still he wants the girl, so he grasps the hilt of the fatal blade and tried to pull it out. Slowly, to the anger and astonishment of the dwarfs, the knife begins to withdraw from the body. When his task is done, when he has accomplished the impossible, he holds the dagger over his sweating forehead in triumph. The dwarfs ran away angrily, leaving the Prince to his inheritance.

It was only now that the champion realised that he had no way to take the girl with him. If only she were alive, then he might carry her on his horse. Distracted by the apparent problem, he fails to notice the fluttering of the girl’s eyelids. Her breast once more begins to glide up and down in the rhythm of false life. The Prince is speechless, far too astounded to process the intangible fact that this corpse was now alive. Snow White smiles, her sharp pearly white teeth glinting against her ruby lips. Without a word, she climbs upon his horse and, together, they ride towards the Queen’s wedding.

It was late evening by the time the pair arrived, and the wedding had turned into a grand ball. Taking his crumpled invitation out of his jacket, the Prince enters the grand marquee with Snow White on his arm. No one recognises the girl as no one expects to see her. The couple dance late into the night. The Queen finally looks up from her new husband’s eyes. In that moment, she sees long, glistening black hair. She sees blood red lips. She sees a figure as white as snow, so pale she’s like a ghost, a memory, haunting the Queen.

The Queen stops; everything stops. Snow White simply turns and smiles. Her sharp teeth glint in the light of the torches. Guards rush to the newlywed’s aid, asking her what the problem is. Snow White grins like Medusa. No one can move, not even the Queen - but she is different; she is petrified by the monster she sees before her, everyone else stops because that is what the monster wants. Snow White just walks towards the Queen, seemingly oblivious to the control she has over all. But, from the glint in her eye, her mother can see that she knows what she is doing; what she is about to do. Her mother can see she plans to kill her. The Queen reaches for the nearest guard, reaches for the spear.

As the girl’s jaws close around her neck, as the teeth begin to prick her flesh, the Queen sinks the spear into her daughter’s chest. The girl recoils, screeches like a banshee. Blood spurts out from the entry wound and splatters on the Queen’s wedding dress. The girl sinks to the floor and weakly grasps at the wooden handle, trying in vain to pry the weapon out of her. The Queen just pushes harder and harder, deeper and deeper. Snow White emits a loud gasp as the point of the spear tears the flesh on her back and exits her body. Her eyelids flutter, and then she is gone. Tomorrow, her head will be sawn off, her mouth stuffed with garlic, and she will be buried in the same cursed plot with her father. But today belongs to the Queen, the bride, who stands covered in blood and weeps. She weeps, because her ghost is finally gone and her wedding day is the happiest day of her life.