Cowbell, Cowbell

Spencer reid using safeword during Sex One-shot? Bc I think it’s important to see that it’s ok if a man use it too❤️

Yes!  There is so much yes going on in this prompt.  Here is your one-shot, comin’ ‘atcha!

“Are you sure about this?” you ask lowly into the crook of his neck before biting down with your teeth.

“Oooh, ah!  Yes…yes, ma’am,” Spencer stutters.

“Tell me our safe word,” you command lowly as your hands slide up hastily underneath his shirt to twist and pinch his nipples.

You feel his legs shaking against yours as his head drops onto your shoulder.

“Cowbell,” he whispers.

“Good boy,” you smile as you slowly ease his shirt off of his head.

Pressing onto his chest as he sits on the corner of your bed, you drop to your knees as you slowly begin to work his belt buckle out from the loops of his pants.

His predatory stare was going to be fun to watch when he realized you were going to tie him down butt naked to your bed-posts.

Slowly slipping him out of his clothes gave him the illusion that he was still in control, and soon he was yanking you down on top of his body as he falls backwards onto your plush bed while his lips delve on top of yours.

But it gave you time to reach over for the ties, and soon his hands and feet were both bound to the bed.

“Men,” you leer as you slowly rise to your feet, “so pompous.”

Slowly walking around the bed as your fingertips trail against his skin, you watch as his dick slowly becomes erect, throbbing in front of your eyes with every cascade of your skin against his.

The mere fact that he couldn’t move or touch you was killing him.

“Y/N…” Spencer whimpers.

“Shut up,” you command, flickering your hot gaze up to him as he slowly licks his lips.

Oh, how you wanted to sit on those lips.

Actually…that was a good idea.

Slowly working out of your pants, you make a show of it as you turn around and shake your ass at him.

“Oooooh,” he groans as you hear the bed creak underneath him.

Tonight that mattress is gonna sing.

Crawling up as you place both knees by his head, you lower your pussy lips until your finely trimmed hairs tickle his nose.

You felt him nuzzle into them, and it made you lob your head back and sigh.

“Open wide,” you breathe.

Sitting down onto his plump lips as you feel his tongue breach your wet lips, you moan out as you rock back and forth on the three days worth of stubble you had told him to grown out.

You had to lean forward and brace yourself against your headboard in order to keep yourself upright.

Panting and sweating as Spencer laps up your essence, your sounds begin escaping your lips as you feel yourself reach your precipice, your body shaking as his body bucks and writhes underneath you, desperate to dig his fingertips into your hips as you drop off of the edge and moan his name into the darkened bedroom.

Your body dropped off to the side as Spencer’s face glistens with you.

“Please, Y/N…please let me touch you.  Just-…just once,” he breathes heavily.

But the begging is exactly what you wanted.

“Not just yet, my little play toy,” you smirk up at the ceiling.

Reaching over onto your readied desk, you pull out a blindfold as you sit up on your knees.

“Now…close your eyes,” you say lowly.

As his eyes flutter shut, you place the blindfold down around his eyes as you look down lustfully to watch his eager, reddened dick twitch and begin to leak.

Eventually you would work your mouth around-

“Cowbell! Cowbell!  Cowbell!”

Ripping yourself from your persona, you scurry off of him as you toss the blindfold to the side and rip the restraints from his hands.

Throwing yourself down to the end of the bed, you rip his feet free as he bolts upright, his body shaking, as his wide eyes begin to glisten over with tears.

You crawl quickly over to him as you situate yourself in between his legs and take his hands within yours.

“Breathe with me, Spencer.  In…out…in…out…”

As his hiccuping chest slowly begins to match your rhythm, you lean in and kiss his stomach before you flutter your eyes up to his.

And he was looking down at you with sorrow in his eyes.

“Don’t be sorry,” you whisper before kissing him again to calm him down, “that’s what the word is for.”

“Guess I’m not ready for that yet,” he huffs as he tries to smile down at you.

But the smile was so sad, and you didn’t want him to be sad.

“It’s alright.  We can try it again another time,” you smile.

“I’m so sorry,” he groans.

Don’t be,” you urge.

And then…an idea struck you.

As your fingertips inch up to his still-erect cock, you wrap your hand around it as you glance up towards him for permission.

His eyes darkened very quickly as the same idea began rolling behind his eyes.

“May I?” you ask innocently.

“Oh, yes,” he whispers.

And as you wrap your lips around the tip of his leaking head, his hips bucking quickly into your mouth, you slowly feel him lay back down as a hand works its way through your hair.

And the lewd sounds from his mouth that filled the room made everything worthwhile.

anonymous asked:

ON THE FIRST DAY OF CHRISTMAS MY TRUE LOVE GAVE TO ME... something round and gold -victor probably

He’d sing that to Yuuri and drop down on his knee with a little black box ;) 

It all started out like any other mission, save for squaring off with a Druid.

Lance had it all under control, dodging each attack with ease. He was practically dancing around the Druid, throwing insults around like confetti. Adrenaline was pumping through him, giving him a burst in speed and agility.

There was confidence in every move he made, and the smirk was plastered onto his face. But his confidence and cockiness was not to last.

As he aimed another shot at the Druid, the target in question launched a strike of lightning. In one second Lance felt an explosion of agony hit his face. His eyes felt like they were burning, and he dropped to his knees with an agonized scream. He tried to open his eyes, but it hurt too much to even start to try. But he couldn’t just open fire without looking. He could accidentally hit one of his teammates, and the pain was so unbearable that it drowned out any other thoughts in his mind.

All he could do was writhe on the ground, howling in pain with his hands over his eyes. He didn’t even register the silence from the Druid that followed after Shiro dispatched it. He barely heard their voices, calling out his name in terror.

im gonna propose to yoongi in the cheesiest way im gonna go on a date with him and do it in public i’ll just drop 2 my knees and take out the ring and be all sweet abt it and he’s gonna die. the ring will have “i wanna big house big cars and big rings… and ur big love” (thank u lauren) engraved on it plus our names….and then we’re going to mcdonalds and eating big macs……could this get any better? then im gonna say “you look fresh like a salad, so smooth” in my vows :/ a perfect wedding tbh


Amelia walked down the street, looking at the passing faces until one caught her attention. She looked to the woman with a shocked expression, that brand…the brand that rested on her forehead. That was what captured her attention. She’d wander closer, pointing to the woman. “What-..” Her common was still terrible but she was going to get her point across. “What..is?” She pointed to the brand.

The expression that formed on that other woman’s face only reassured Amelia of her suspicion. “Family Crest…” Rariv’sha called out to answer the girl, and that is when Amelia dropped to her knees. She’d begin crying, tears welling up in her eyes. She looked to the floor before looking up to the woman, her mouth wide open but only a somber and painful moan could be heard. 

Originally posted by ericawhite23

Her eyes stuck on the woman in front of her as she hopped down from the ledge and slowly got close to Amelia as to not scare her. “Hey.. calm down..what is it?” Her tone was reluctant, as if she knew what was going on but didn’t wish to believe it. That is when Amelia pulled her hair away from her neck, revealing the same brand that was on Rariv’sha’s head. She’d move her head forward to nuzzle into the woman’s lap and that’s when she heard it.. “What is the meaning of this? Who are you?” Amelia spoke softly in their forbidden tongue, “Mother..”

Amelia felt her mother wrap her arms around her tiny, frail body, and in turn she did so as well. She’d squeeze her mother as tight as she could but no amount of strength, or lack there of, could reveal how much love she held for this woman.  “I want to go home.. I want to go home.” The poor girl cried out, slightly rocking back and forth. “We will go home.. I will take you home.” The reassurance only causing her to cry a little more. “Things have changed since we’ve been separated mother.” She’d let the illusion concealing her eyes fall momentarily, just long enough to let her mother see their true nature. 

Originally posted by fuckyeahdemonedits

Wild, feral like eyes stared at Rariv’sha. They were a golden orange shade, with a black slit going vertically in the center of her eye. “I’ll write to you…tell me what you need and I will prepare everything for your arrival.” Amelia shook her head, “My needs are rather abnormal mother..” The girl looked to her mother and her mother looked right back. “You have been away from home for quite some time.. perhaps you have forgotten my love for the abnormal.” A fiendish grin flashed on the mothers mouth before it faded, returning to its nurturing and loving appearance.  “I reside within Devereaux Tower.. I will respond with what I need when you write to me..” Amelia stood up, hugging her mother again before turning to take her leave. She’d walk a few paces and stop, fighting every urge to turn around and hug her mother one last time…but she picked her head up and continued walking. The soft sound of sobbing could be heard until she rounded the corner of the nearby armor, its resonance slowly fading.


skullinacowboyhat  asked:

'You think I'm dumb enough to fall for that stupid move?' Aric/aja

Jorgan dodged her punch and jabbed his elbow at her face.

Aja ducked under his arm, and tried to kick his knee out from under him. “You think I’m dumb enough to fall for that stupid move?”

He grunted as he dropped to his knees. He caught her arm for her next punch and threw down onto her back.

The air left her lungs. “Ow!”

Jorgan’s face swam into view above her. “Get up, Rookie. That’s not a stupid move, it’s one of the best versatile ones you can be trained to know.” He held up his arms in a defensive pose. “If you can’t dodge that, you shouldn’t be out in the field.”

She climbed to her feet and stood across the sparring mat from him. “Okay, Sir.”

He motioned for her to move closer. “Ready?”

Aja sprang forward and rolled between his legs.

“DAMMIT YETTER!” Jorgan spun and kicked out, but she kept moving to climb up his back. He ducked forward and tried to throw her over his shoulder.

Instead she tightened her legs around his chest and wrapped an arm around his neck.

“Yetter!” he rasped.

She didn’t let go.

“Yetter!” Jorgan dropped to his knees.

Aja released him and  stepped away. “How’s that, Sir?”

He massaged his neck and glared at her. “Better.”

“Good. Maybe I should choke your ego more often.”

Short Story: “Of Parties and Potions”

She knew that over excited voice, even if it was a little more echoing than usual. “Sol?”  

“Yeah! Hey, look what I can do!” The door swung open on its hinges and… well, burped was the only way Blythe could describe the outflow of heat and flame. That was Sol, all right. 

Blythe dropped to her knees so she could be eye level with Sol’s knobs. She hoped those were his eyes and not something else. “Yes, that’s great. What do you mean no one wants to talk to you? No one else is here! And– I’ll probably regret asking this– why are you a stove?”

(This is a Halloween/costume party themed story that I finished a month ago. Pretend that it’s still seasonal, okay? This short story mostly fits into the Unexpected Inspiration series canon, except that it takes place shortly after book 3 [Iconoclasm]. This silly story is what you get when a you mix a character who loves causing mischief with a world where magic is readily available. Comedic/comic fantasy is my jam.)

Short Story - "Of Parties and Potions”

Firedrake nudged the door of their wagon shut with their hip and placed the small brown sack on the table. The contents of the bag, while difficult to acquire, were well worth the effort for the devious plan they had in mind. “Solei, what did you do? Open every window?”

Sol glanced up from where he knelt on the floor. His usual orbs of light hovering a foot above his head did nothing to heat the wagon. The stove served that purpose. The stove, Firedrake now noticed, was cold and dark. Sol sheepishly grinned at Firedrake. “I kinda blew the door off again. But I’m fixing it!”

Firedrake’s exasperated response went unsaid when a shiver shook their body. Sol had improved the stove enough that it could keep even a Salamander warm, but every upgrade meant he broke the blasted thing for most of a day, usually by blasting the thing. “Is this going to take long?”

“Nope! I’m almost done.” Sol snapped his fingers and then pointed at the hinge. A narrow jet of flame streamed from his fingertips to turn the metal a dimly glowing orange. After a few minutes of mixing fire weaving with metalworking, the door was back on and Sol had relit the coal.

Sol climbed to his feet and pushed his goggles back up onto his forehead where they stopped just short of the carefully-styled blond spikes. “There. Told ya!”

“Good. If you’ve finished blowing things up for the evening, I made plans for us.”

Firedrake reached into the bag and was relieved that Sol’s curiosity brought him over to investigate. This was much better than an unreliable stove since Sol emitted a steadily warm body heat. Sol’s inability to understand personal space was never a problem.

Once the glass jar was in their hands, Firedrake pivoted around to show this to Sol. Before Firedrake could explain further, however, Sol reached for it. “Thanks! I was thirsty!”

Firedrake snatched it back, grateful the lid was stoppered with a cork. Who knew what would happen if it hit their skin instead of being ingested? “I didn’t get this for you, goofus. It’s not for drinking. Yet.”

Sol’s lips twitched into a pout. “Aww, why not? It looks like fruit juice.”

“And I’m hoping that’s all it tastes like. Remember the party tonight?”

Sol shook his head.

“You know, the one our sibs were invited to, but the one to which no one saw fit to invite us?”

Sol continued to look blank.

“For the Creators’ sakes. They’re at a costume party right now thrown by one of Adair’s Artisan friends. We’re going to crash it.”

Now Sol got it. His face broke into a wide grin. “Oh! Sounds like fun! What are you going to wear?”

Firedrake rolled their eyes and gestured down. “Was it ever in question?”

“You always dress like a dragon. Can’t you wear something else?”

Firedrake had no desire to change out of the costume they wore to their performance earlier. It took long enough to get the makeup right as it was. “Don’t be ridiculous. Now find something you can wear- one of your silly hats or something- and meet me outside. There’s one more thing I have to do.”

“I guess that would work…” Sol paused for a moment, then his eyes widened. “No! I have the most perfect idea ever!”

Oh no. A Sol idea couldn’t end well. “What-”

Sol interrupted Firedrake with a laugh and gave them a gentle shove towards the door. “It’s a secret, like your not-juice. You’ll see!”

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