you and your pretty faces

2

PSA: if your grown ass man is too scared to accidentally brush up against a wrapped tampon, it’s time to find a new man. Your period is natural and shouldn’t freak him out. #RemoveTheStigma #PrettyLittlePSA

Pepero Day (M)

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Yoongi x reader

Genre: Smut, Bestfriend!Yoongi, Valentine’s Day themed

Word count: 5.7k

warnings: Rated M, language, graphic sexual descriptions

A/N: This was meant to be a valentine’s day fic, but it’s a day late, rip. I hope you enjoy it regardless!

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→ nudes, not flowers (pt. 1)

Originally posted by bangtannoonas

☆ pairing → Hoseok x reader x Jungkook

☆ genre → fuckboi!au, smut 

warning  public sex, slight voyeurism/exhibitionism, dirty talk, dom!junghope, demeaning names during sex if you aren’t into that, jealousy

☆ word count   → 5.5k

summary   → you’re not supposed to fall for Jung Hoseok and his repertoire of awful pick-up lines – but you do. the problem is: he’s afraid of commitment, and bolts at the idea of settling down. you decide to stay far away from fuckboys, but his friend decides to test your new found resolutions

or : Jungkook wants to see how far he can push Hoseok until he snaps 

→  pt i | pt ii

a/n  → …. why tf did i do this to myself!!! (this is just smut that i had to split into two parts rip)
anyways tagging @kstopping @gxtsmxt @thotmi bc nothing says i love you like a junghope smut am i right



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thin lines (m)

pairing: reader x park jimin

summary: park jimin was famous for being a fratboy, a cutie with a booty, and for being a pain in the ass. yet, somehow, you still ended up in his bed. 

genre/count: smut and fluff [ nc-17 ]   |   7.8k words

a/n: i started writing this at work and enjoyed it way too much :’)

Jimin liked to think himself easygoing. He could sweet talk anyone, worm his way into people’s lives and fit himself all snug in their hearts. It was just a charm of his, he supposed. He wasn’t too judgmental or strict, liked to be the good cop to everyone’s bad cop (especially Yoongi in the frat).

But there was something about you that just irritated the fuck out of him. It wasn’t as if you were unpleasant, no. You were pleasant to everyone except him. You were always so effortlessly fucking gorgeous. You never looked snobby or pretentious and he would do you ten out of ten. So he wasn’t quite sure what it was that nagged at the back of his mind about you.

It was during one of his fraternity’s house parties, Hoseok’s this time because he had just gotten the opportunity to perform his choreography in the department’s annual showcase, hence making it a good cause to celebrate. Jimin had entered, tipsy from the pre-game at Taehyung’s place with a handful of new pledges and Taehyung had announced his entrance as he always did. “Your party god and savior, Kim Taehyung, is finally here!” A few of the guys who were all too familiar with his antics waved him off. Jimin just laughed.

It was a little over midnight when Jimin found the music a little too loud, so he staggered over to the kitchen in search of a glass of water to relieve the dryness in the back of his throat. He’s found a few potential girls he could hook up with tonight but none he was too interested in.

However, the sight of another figure halted his footsteps. You stood there nursing your own drink, clad in the shortest pair of leather shorts that curved around your ass nicely, a top that was tantalizing enough to have his dick twitching in his pants but elegant enough to keep it classy. Not to mention that choker that wrapped around your neck. Fuck. You were laughing with a new pledge from his frat and he could already tell that the kid was interested but he couldn’t help the asshole in him when it came to you.

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Hold up! Just look at her face. Look at that subtle raise of her eyebrows, the tiny, almost imperceptible, quiver of her chin and the intake of breath. The way her lips part and her eyes just gaze longingly with that ‘please-love-me’ stare. It’s like she takes one look at Clarke and time stands still for a sec.
You can almost hear the internal conflict. -‘God your pretty. That face. Those eyes. Those lips. Can I kiss you? I swear you’re an angel. Jok! Pull yourself together Heda!
Love is weakness, except, maybe my love of candles. Wait, what was you saying? Your beauty stumped me-’.
Lexa is so thirsty that straight after this she has to pour herself a drink.

The subtlety and intricacies of ADC’s expressions and the mannerisms within her portrayal of Lexa still amaze me.

2

a little late and a lot gay

Protected | R.M.

Summary: Reggie Mantle grew up protecting what he loved.


I miss you.

You received the text on the first day of school, the instant your baby pink ballet flats maneuvered within the halls of Riverdale High, which were marginally filled with mayhem from everyone’s first day jitters.

Well, not everyone. You, despite your extra pretty face, extra shiny curls, and extra preppy outfit, wore a heavy façade that drooped lower than the Maybelline Fit Me-concealed eye-bags that were situated below your unexplained, cheery eyes that tried to greet everyone with much positivity as possible. As everyone knew your perfect reputation, the happy-go-lucky cheerleader that everyone admired and loved since the day you entered high school. It was never tarnished, so you refused to let a silly break-up move it at all.

You took out your phone and shakily gazed down at the message. It was sent in clear, with no emoji’s or silly grammatical errors. Your nervous fingers moved for you, but your brain was being silly that day and it had no planned response for the text message.

A wave of students accidentally crossed and one of them partially collided against your hardly five feet tall physique, which was a thankful jolt that rattled you off from replying to the text message. You squeezed the iPhone tightly, bearing no mind of the glittery fake diamonds from the phone case bearing harsh indentions against your palm.

The moment you were able to fix your locker and lock it behind you, you immediately set off to find a seat in the gym—hoping that an early departure from the first day madness would create a false sense of comfort from your inevitable fate, which was meeting your ex-boyfriend again subsequently after a summer of trying to forget all about him.


Everyone had always said that you were perfect for Reginald Mantle.

You were a girl blessed with your father’s dominant sloped nose and your mother’s graceful and tiny, ballerina body. Being the only child meant being under the revolving gaze of your mother and father’s watchful eyes twenty-four/seven, and you grew up to be accordingly limpid; yet, at the same time pretentious for you were the heir of one of the wealthiest families in Riverdale.

Reggie was a boy meant for you even before you knew what he was supposed to be. He was a constant person in your life, a fixture caused by your parents and his parents’ meddling. Though, despite your unending play times together and a hired tutor that taught you and him up until you were in middle school, Reggie and you grew up in different paths, in different aspects.

You and Reggie were in the opposite sides of the spectrum. Nevertheless, you were inexplicably drawn to him. He was exactly the same as you, but as the same time, so, so different.

He was difficult to figure out. He had pushed children off swing sets and had hogged all the toy cars to himself as he disliked sharing. You hated the smirk on his face when he teased his inferiors, and still you loved him when he kissed you goodnight. He’d hold you in the softest way possible, muscled arms entrapped around you with touch as light as a feather, and similarly he’d used the same arms dangerously with heated intent at someone else.

You never got why people often told you that he was perfect for you. He was, in your point of view, a mixture of positives and negatives. He was your opposite.

The thing about opposites was that when a unity occurred, it would be a co-existent dependency that held itself with tension.

You loved him more than he loved himself. That was probably the reason why the balance wasn’t right and he pushed himself off, leaving you in the dust.


“Are you alright?” Surprisingly, Cheryl Blossom would be the first person to question you that today. The said Blossom stood above you, her red curls down the right side of her chest, a hand on her hip and a raised eyebrow. You tried to hide the flinch that came with Cheryl’s edged tone, but she assumingly noticed it since she took it herself to sit next to you on that noisy lunch table.

“Talk to me,” she demanded. “I don’t want anyone on my squad to be sadder than my supposed star quality. You cannot rain on my parade on this week’s performance.”

“I’m fine,” you muttered as you picked on your salad.

“[y/n], a stupid boy doesn’t have the right to state your mood status.” She hissed. “There are 7 billion people in the world. God knows how much boys will there be after your life post-Reggie Man—“

“Damn, Cheryl,” You stood up. “I said I’m fine!”

Your words were a little too loud, and laced with anger. The whole open-lawn cafeteria went into a full pregnant pause from your little burst and your eyes betrayed you as it went to a familiar face that you couldn’t just let go off. His smirking, never ceasing, hardly-caring face wavered slightly as he looked your way, as everyone had. He looked down once before pushing his left foot off benched on the seat and faced in the opposite direction, going back into a conversation with Chuck Clayton.

You couldn’t care less what that meant and you sped off from your table, grabbing your cellphone with you. Opening the text message up on your interface, your quivering fingers typed out a reply before hitting send.


“I thought you said I couldn’t see you again,” the tall and handsome boy chuckled as he sat coolly on the stools that they had in Pop’s. His tousled, brown waves would shine into a blondish side under the neon lights of Pop’s infamous signs, and his pretty blue eyes would turn your messy head into a complete haze of white noise. “I missed you,” Jackson voiced out, echoing what he had recently texted you that morning.

It was seven in the evening, and mostly everyone had this night tacked to watch the last screening due for the closing Midnight Drive-In. You had thought to go but you knew that it would simply be another place that would haunt you again with memories that happened in the arms of a familiar stranger.

“I couldn’t resist,” you whispered zealously, biting your lip, then striding towards him until both of your faces had no space with each other. He kissed back passionately, and you followed along in accord, ignoring the way your heart bleated in a monotonous fashion, like it was a routine you followed every morning. Fingers tracing down his rugged, jean jacket, you stopped as it went to a tracing on his arm. A tattoo of a dangerous serpent.

“Watch it,” he pushed himself off you and went to slip down his sleeves. “Any good ‘ole folk wouldn’t wanna see that snake on a young thing’s skin.”

“A young thing, huh?” You titled your head, letting him caress your cheek. It made you feel like being touched by an intruder. You held your tongue from stating that out loud. “I heard that your buddies are over at the drive-in tonight.”

“—yeah,” the handsome, rugged boy agreed, holding your hand like a whisper. “But you’re much better than any movie, let’s agree. Pretty and innocent [y/n][y/l/n].”

“If my father saw you with me,” you told him with a trace of a smile hinting on your lips while leading the boy down to a booth. “He would freak,” you ended with a pendulous but crude smirk, as the feeling of going behind your parents’ back often created a brilliant feeling of teenage rebellion.

However, the light that would go unperturbed that night beneath the luminescence of you with the boy from the Serpents would go back unlit as a sudden burst of unexpected customers walked in the empty Pop’s.

It was a famous group of blue and yellow hues, the king, the boy in between the boisterous and rowdy laughs, and you couldn’t help but shake as his eyes immediately turned toward the serpent and your contumacious self.

“[y/n]?” Reggie Mantle took it upon himself to breeze through the rows of booths with a face of disbelief, his voice rising. And as you expected, anger rising as his comical face slowly slipped to stone cold when his eyes landed on the lingering fingers of the serpent teenager on your arm. “Who the hell is he?”  

“Fuck off, Reggie,” you glared, bringing yourself to whisper to your current partner beside you, “Ignore him.” You tried your best to act a casual as possible, though the sudden racing of your heart that went with the way your ex-boyfriend stared at you in a mix of hardening confusion and indignation.

The other football players were left in a fit of widening eyes as Reggie, in impulsion, went and grabbed your arm in fury, “I’m taking you home.”

And it was a laughable scene, provided that you have been in witness in a circumstance like this before; on the contrary, you were always behind him before, supporting him like a good girlfriend. Until now.

Reggie showed the chaos within him through the bones between his knuckles—several scars made proof of that. Now, you were his enemy, the one that caused the fire beneath his eyes. The booths made a guarded ring.

“What the hell, man—“ The serpent boy scoffed before Reggie snapped and gripped and landed a good punch with no regret on the other boy’s face. That started a full-blown fight, which lead pandemonium where Moose, Chuck, and several others hurriedly tried to pull the Asian off the other boy. Reggie’s blows were pernicious, and over the yells of the football team trying to stop the fight, the only thing you could do was watch everything in horror.


“—fighting on public property, what on earth caused you to do that?!” And Mrs. Mantle let out a startled shriek and tried to shield her son as Mr. Mantle gave a tumultuous slap on Reggie’s already bruising face. You gripped your jacket, feeling the cotton and thinking of it as abrasive as hooves, guilt going off you in waves as the only thing you could do was watch the aftermath unfold in the Mantle estate, where you had been protectively ushered off to with your parents and Sheriff Keller due to Pop’s emergency dial.

“This is getting out of hand,” Reggie’s father continued, a harsher than stern look on his purple face. Yanking back his hand, his gaze shot to you, which you couldn’t bear to hold longer than a second. “This boy has been nothing but trouble this year—I swear, this was the last straw, Reginald. I need to ship him to board—“

“It was my fault,” you found your voice, hurried and not gentle at all—willing to cross out the guilt killing your tightening chest. Your parents’ tension-heavy faces whipped their heads to you, their protected daughter that could hardly do no wrong in this world. “I came there with Jackson—“

“No, I fought him, she had nothing to do with th—“ Reggie hastily claimed, harsh and scarily void of emotion. He was seemingly too callous from responding to his father—and you had realized that this could have been happening more so than none and that this boy could have grown up this way, and while your heart was pouring from hearing him protect you, you knew that it was your call to turn things around.

“No,” you squeaked, hearing yourself panic. “I guess I was being rebellious, I met up with Jackson, and – and- “ You eyed your father. “He was with me and Reggie saw me and Jackson did something and he got provoked,” you finished, lying. You looked at Reggie, and he gazed at you, turmoil and hurt swirling in his eyes.

That led to a tension-filled silence. You closed your eyes, and could hear the sounds of Reggie’s father’s footsteps going off to a direction. Somewhere that’s not here, of course.


“Sorry, that shouldn’t have happened,” he would tell you days later, smirk latched to his lips like a boy to a candy bar. He’d say it would no feeling, no emotion, as if he wasn’t someone that was in what happened and he was merely a person who’d heard of what happened.

The memory of his father slapping him because of you would haunt you forever, and your eyes would wander to his cheek not due to any romantic purpose, but the ache of wondering how much it hurt to protect you, a person he shouldn’t even be caring for anymore.

“I’m sorry,” you ignored his first statement, and spat out what you needed to say. The hallways were empty. “I was being petty. I wanted to—“ The words were dignified to be stated out in the open. “I wanted to forget about you.”

His silence mocked you. The 6’3 handsome and usually word-y jock—the boy you really, just really, really loved, gazed at you as if your turbulence, though with a slip of concern on his façade. You continued, lips burning with words you only imagined you would say in a dream, “You hurt me, Reggie. I hated you for making me spend a summer without you. So, yeah. I did something. I slept with that douchebag, that serpent, just to forget about you. So, fuck you.”

The response was instant. An utter storm shadowed over his face. “Fuck me? Fuck me? Are you fucking kidding me?” His fingers wrapped tightly around his coifed hair, eyes blazing with chasms of void and anger. “The only thing I ever did was goddamn protect you! If you hadn’t been so stupid, you wouldn’t be in this mess. I shouldn’t have protected you from the start if it was going to lead this way.”

“Protected me from the start?” You questioned, beckoned with hatred.

“Yes! I’ve always been protecting you. I love you, [y/n]. So much. The reason I ended things is because you were going to end up broadcasted on this shitty book and—“ Reggie sighed and you looked at him confusingly. He stepped forward, “Look, last year I was in hell. My dad caught me doing some stupid shit and he was going to blame it on you. I needed to protect you, it was instinct. I had to break up with you because I couldn’t bear the guilt that—“

This time, it was your turn to slap him. Reggie snapped his head back at you, shocked.

“You stupid jerk,” your body shook from relief and at the same time, numbness. “You couldn’t have at least told me about that? I literally cried for a week because I thought I wasn’t good enough for you, the great Reggie freaking Mantle.”

Reggie stared at what only could have been eons, before shaking his head and returning a soft gaze that was only for you. “I’m sorry.”

You could shake your head as he placed out his warm hand next to yours, swirling and wrapping it around yours in the gentlest way possible.


It was an epiphany, when you looked at him and you had finally seen a glimpse of an extent that he would do for you. The balance was off and you had thought of it in the wrong way.

He loved you more than he loved himself.


omg i’m so sorry. whenever i write i’d always get so carried away with excessive details and annoying character musings!!! please tell me what you think! feel free to reblog or like or message me! always open to hear what you guys think huehue. :) 

baby, my baby | 01

Originally posted by kookmin

“Raise my child, just for twelve months”

◇ pairing: jungkook | reader
◇ genre: angst, fluff. parents au
◇ word count: 6.4 k
◇ author’s note: i will be updating this series every friday evening, 11~12pm korean time! i really hope you enjoy!

part one ↠ part two part three part four (coming next week!)

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off limits | 02 (m)

pairing: kim seokjin x reader
genre/warnings: smut, dirty talk, dom! Jin 
words: 7,520
summary: you’ve been lusting after your brother’s best friend for a while now, ever since you met him at a house party, flirting it up a storm as you failed to realise who the other was. That was months ago now and things are still awkward, but you can’t ignore the sexual tension that’s simmers between the two of you…and it keeps getting worse…

» playlist | 01 | 02 | 03 |

a/n: if you squint, you can see the beginnings of a plot haha!

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We Are Right Now

Peter Quill x Reader: fluffy smut. 

Peter’s feelings for you are outed out by Mantis. 

“You feel…love.”

Peter stumbled over his words, “Yeah. I guess, yeah. I feel a general unselfish love for-”

“No!” Mantis interrupted. “Sexual love.”

“No. No. I don’t!” Peter shook his head at the woman.

“For her!” she pointed in Gamora’s direction, to which Drax bursted into a loud rough laugh. You stood behind Gamora trying to stifle a laugh, because Peter’s face was fucking priceless. Also laughing to hide the sinking feeling in your heart, because of course Peter wanted Gamora; she was pretty hot. And you? You were just some Terran chick who knew her way around the galaxy; Rocket had been an old pal and asked you to come along with them for a while. And yeah, you weren’t blind. Peter was attractive; he was charismatic, funny, and most importantly, he had the right dance moves. So you weren’t surprised that he wanted Gamora, not one bit.

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Blurb Starter #36. “And you’re naked. Okay.”

Friends who couldn’t hold their liquor were the worst. Normally, you would get super frustrated having to take care of an inebriated friend.

This time however, you had to admit that it was rather amusing.

When Bucky Barnes arrived at the Avengers Tower, he had been mysterious and a tad closed off. Everyone sort of gave him his space and waited for him to warm up to what was going on. He did eventually which pleased you.

Now, he was drunk off his ass and it was the funniest thing ever.

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Slow Ride

Yeah, you all should have known this was coming… They don’t call me Cowgirl for nothing…

(This gif was made by my gorgeous friend Pam @saucynewf - and is being used with her permission)

Holy. Shit.

Seriously, how much is a girl supposed to take? You share rooms with these guys, watch them walk around half-dressed, banter back and forth with them. You take Dean’s suggestive, flirty comments and respond in kind, telling yourself it’s all part of your friendship.

And then he does this.

Of all things, a mechanical bull. You thought those things died out with Urban Cowboy. But now, as you stand watching with your jaw clenched, and your nails digging into your palms, and your thighs clamped together, Dean is riding the fuck out of Larry, the centerpiece of the bar you went into for the sole reason of grabbing some burgers.

You can’t tear your eyes from him as his body sways, looking like he’s part of that saddle. The muscles of his thighs are tight, holding firm, his torso lean and lithe as he moves with it, sinuous and sexy as hell. One arm waves above his head, giving him the balance he needs, the other bicep bunched and bulging beneath the plaid shirt, unbuttoned at the front to allow your eyes to cruise over where his t-shirt clings to his pecs, his ribs, his belly.

“Do you know him?” the waitress whispers, and you nod, your lips parted and your eyes glued to Dean as the ride ends, and he slowly lowers himself back, sprawled and smiling. “Lucky you,” she says, turning to go back to work, and you blow out a breath, closing your mouth and lowering your eyes.

Air. You need some air.

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  • Me: "think I'll play a bit of Pokémon before I go to sleep, y'know, just to unwind and relax a bit."
  • Me 10 minutes later: "HOLY SHIT WHY IS LUSAMINE SUCH A CRAZY BITCH!? HOW BAD DO YOUR MOTHER ISSUES HAVE TO BE TO SAY YES MA'AM AND JUMP THRU A WORMHOLE!? are there any Pokémon who are actually affected by DREAM EATER??!also, THERE ARE WORMHOLES!?!"
Hard To Tell - Jeff Atkins/Reader

chapter 6: confession

word count: 1890

tagged list: ( i have to work on this,, again )

chapter 1 - chapter 2 - chapter 3 - chapter 4 - chapter 5 - chapter 6 ( you’re here! )

When you went to school the next day, you received stares. Does that come as a shock? When you were rifling through your locker, two hands were placed on your hips.

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okay but I feel like Harry would definitely send you nudes n shit while you’re in class


Like, you’d be listening to your professor lecture and your phone would vibrate and you’d take a quick glance and just about scream– it’d come out as a tiny garbled squawk.

And it’d be a thread of pics of him, starting from a selfie where he’s slumped into the couch in his donut hoodie with his messy nest of hair bc he didn’t feel like brushing it this morning so he just ran his fingers through it a couple of times and then called it a Grammy-worthy hairstyle. His face is neutral as he’s staring at the TV, the hood of the jumper hanging over his right shoulder and he just looks cozy and lazy. And then the second pic would be a pic of him looking down at some unknown thing off camera, but by the angle of the pic you deduce it’s his lap. And then the pic after that would be of him with his hand tucked into his black Nike running shorts, the outline of his knuckles showing that he’s cupping himself underneath. This picture would be followed by the caption, “im hard :(”

And you’d roll your eyes, typing back a quick “handle it” and locking your phone, setting it back on top of your textbook and continuing taking notes. It’d vibrate again, but you’d ignore it bc you don’t want to miss anything important. Then it buzzes again, and again, and again, and it keeps going at faster intervals and you know he’s aware that you’re ignoring him. You snatch it back up with a small, exasperated sigh, flicking through the 19 messages he’s shot at you. “help me!” “It hurts!!” “Don’t be so cruel :(” “baby I need you to cocks me through this!” “Get it? ‘Cocks’? Sounds like coax :D"

Then a pic of him all pouty with his big emerald eyes all doe-like. “just a quick one, c'mon. Just tell me what you’d do to me if you were here :)”

“I’d tell you that you sound like a fuckboy.”

“You answered so it worked”

“Because it was annoying. Now leave me alone I have work to do!”

And then a pic would come through of his bare hard-on, tucked out of his shorts and in his large hand with his fingers wrapped around it, pearls of pre-come shiny on the tip. “But I’m so hard for you :((”

You’d yelp, lowering your brightness to the lowest setting and tapping out an angry reply: “I’m. In. Public. You. Dipshit.”

“Scandalous ;))”

“do you want to get blocked again?”

“Tell me you wanna suck me off :)”

“if you use one more smiley face…”

“what, these? :)))) :-)))”

“Har, please. I have to go”

And before you shut off your phone a vid pops up and you see his face as the thumbnail, so you click it, glancing up quickly to make sure no one is watching and putting one earbud in.

“I’m really hard– s'like, it hurts a lot. And you’re not here and I just want you wrapped around me.” He frowns like a child, knuckling at his eyes and you can tell he woke up recently, even if it is one in the afternoon. “So ’m just gonna…hold on…this new phone’s a slippery one, innit? I’ve dropped it more times than I can count…”

The camera flips and, sure enough, there he is, all shades of red and purple, thick and veiny and bubbling over with jizz as he strokes himself at a medium pace, twisting every now and then to give the handjob some variety. “I just want you so bad, minx. Wanna push myself inside your hot, wet, soft and tight…fucking hell, you’re so tight…”

You’d shift a bit, legs clamping out of instinct. He’s such a dick for doing this. You glance up and there’s 5 minutes left of class. You can make it.

He flips the camera back over to his face, where he’s leaning his head back against the sofa and biting his lips raw, tiny feathery moans oozing from his lips as his breathing gets heavier, his shoulders visibly jolting. “Oh, fuck me, doll. Make me come so hard, so much…Wanna taste you– just shove my face in between your pretty little legs and lick into you until you’re shaking.”


His jaw clenches, the muscle ticking and the veins in his neck chisel themselves into existence, his Adam’s Apple bobbing slowly as he swallows thickly. Sweat is beading his forehead, a few teeny curls sticking to his skin. You can see the hint of stubble that curtains the lower half of his jaw and trails onto the underside of his face and it only worsens the ordeal because you can just about feel it now, rubbing against your thighs or scratching down the back of your shoulders as he takes you from behind. The little shit is staring directly into the camera and smirking, for fuck’s sake, licking the corner of his mouth and humming out a long groan. “Nice and hard for you, babygirl. Want you to fuck my brains out…”


The video ends there with Harry’s back arching off the couch, cutting off as he gives a watery yelp. You sit there, blinking tears of desperation from your eyes and trying to force the blush from your cheeks.


“When i get home, you’re fucked.”

“Wouldn’t want it any other way ;)”

content (g.d.)

~HEY Y’ALL it’s ya girl back at it again with some more Grayson fluff. This one is kinda inspired by Ethan’s tweet about sleepy and delirious Gray. I’m hoping to write more often, it just takes a lil more for me to get inspired. OH and thank you guys so, SO much for all the positive feedback on my first Gray imagine, “take me there”. I’m so proud of it and I’m so happy you guys seem to enjoy it as well. :)

**No warnings (unless you wanna count Ethan’s dirty joke in the beginning)**

He was up pretty late last night, probably beating it to a picture of you or something, I dunno,” Ethan teased after letting you inside the apartment.

“Good lord, E,” you groaned with a scrunched face. You followed him past the kitchen and into the living room.

“I’m kidding loser,” he chuckled, plopping down on the couch and pressing play on the game he had paused to answer the door. “He was just up editing his part of the video for a long ass time last night. Although he probably did do the other thing. Wouldn’t put it past him.”

“Ethan!” You scolded, soliciting a laugh from your boyfriend’s brother.

“Just being truthful, cupcake,” he shrugged, not taking his eyes off his game. You scoffed and jokingly shoved his head as you walked past him (ignoring his whines that you made him mess up his game or whatever) and made your way to Grayson’s room, quietly opening and closing the door behind you. You leaned against the door and sighed in sympathy and love as you laid eyes on his sleeping figure.

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