The one and only Tinder date I ever went on was with this guy who straight-up told me ten minutes after we matched that he really wasn’t looking for a “relationship.” Stupidly, I thought that maybe if he met me in person he’d change his mind.

He asked me to meet him at a Starbucks across the street from a Half Price Books I frequent so I was like ‘eh alright if nothing else I can at least go browse HPB afterwards.’ So I show up five minutes early and order a drink and sit at a table against the window closest to the HPB. I pull out my phone and browse Facebook and try not to look like I’m not the most awkward human being on the planet.

He walks through the door ten minutes late but makes a beeline straight for me. He’s not quite as good-looking as he was in the pictures but he has a nice smile. I wait while he jumps in line and a few minutes later he sits down and awkwardness ensues.

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But ultimately nothing Ronaldo does as an individual or for a club again will ever match what he has done this month. He has made the extraordinary so ordinary that no 50-goal season will ever register again. He has won enough club finals and trophies that one more would not tip any balance.

This win, though, counts for more than anything else he has won before. He has inspired a team to be better than they thought they could be, and shock a whole tournament. He has dragged a team up to his level, which no-one thought he could do. And he has done so with a maturity and selflessness few saw in him. Nothing else he has done or will do will match this.

Birthday Boy.
Requests: *patiently waits for Mikey birthday smut* 😂😂 Ily and Can you do a Michael smut where its his birthday (because it is) and you wanna give him the best fuck of his life to a point where he can’t stop and cums multiple times?

“Michael’s birthday just has to be in November,” I mutter to myself. I was freezing. I was dressed up a new pair of lace panties and a matching bra, wearing nothing else but four inch stilettos. As I put the last touches of frosting on his perfect fudge cake, I looked at the clock.

When he’d woken up, I pretended I forgot what day it was. I stayed in bed while he got ready to go to a birthday breakfast with his dad, which I could tell bothered him. It was all part of my plan to give him the absolute best birthday he’d ever had, and he’d never forget it.

I put the cake on the island, noting that Michael would be back within the next ten minutes, if he went by what he said. I pulled out two shiny wine glasses and set the on the counter, bending over to get the champagne bottle from the back of fridge. I heard the door click and Michael ask, his voice higher than usual, “Babe?”

“Oh, hey baby,” I smirked, grabbing the bottle and turning back to him. I popped the cork in the bottle and poured two fizzing glasses as Michael walked toward me in aw. “You baked a cake?” He asked, almost sounding nervous as he sipped back the drink.

“Yeah,” I smiled, grazing my index finger over the top. Before licking my finger clean, I winked, “Homemade frosting.” He looked at me, breathless and I smiled, “Happy birthday, Mikey.”

"I thought you forgot.” He swallowed the lump in his throat.

“I would never forget,” I smiled, walking around and standing behind him, pulling off his jean jacket and dropping it beside my feet. I wrapped my arms around him from behind, wishing I was tall enough to rest my chin on his shoulder. I looked up and he leaned his head back, so his bright red hair was brushing against my forehead.

“What’s my present?” He asked, and I could almost hear the smirk in his voice.

“Me,” I replied, slipping my hand down the front of his pants. He took a sharp breath in as I began to slowly pump my hand up and down, whispering, “Whatever you want, I’ll do.” I released him from my grip, letting him go completely and walking back around the corner. His face was flushed besides the redness in his cheeks.

“Now?” He asked. I shrugged, and he nodded. A smile on my lips, I grabbed his hand and pulled him off to the bedroom.

I laid him back, crawling over top of him and planting kisses on his neck as I pulled off his shirt and tossed it aside. “Tell me what you want,” I said quietly, working at his belt.

“Anything you want,” He replied, closing his eyes. I could tell by the look on his face, as well as the bulge in his pants, he was already overwhelmed.

“Sure,” I smiled, giving a him a  quick kiss on the lips before moving to the end of the bed. I yanked his jeans down to his ankles then I traced my finger from his belly button to the waistband of his boxers, slightly snapping the elastic. He groaned as I teased him further, slowly sliding his boxers down.

I laid a lid kiss on his tip, hearing him suppress a soft moan. I swirled my tongue then took him in my mouth, letting him push his hips upward and press my head down with one hand. Usually I hated it, but today was his day and I wasn’t going to object. I sucked gently, letting him push down on my head until I suddenly gagged. He let out a moan, obviously finding it hot, so I continued going as he tangled his other fingers in my hair.

He throbbed in my mouth, now unable to suppress the moans coming from his. “Babe, y/n,” He breathed out. “I’m gonna come, fuck, I’m—”

I swallowed, looking up at him and pushing hair out of my face. He caught his breath, “That was great, okay. Really great.”

“Oh, we’re not done,” I told him, but he was already getting soft. I climbed over top of him, kissing him gently at first, but deepening it as we went on. Still in my panties, I grinded my hips on him, feeling him tense beneath me. I was ready to go and he was starting back up.

“Babe, you don’t—” I cute him off, rubbing against him in just a way that sent a wave of pleasure through my body and made a moan escape my lips. Shocking myself, I pulled away just bit so that my lips were ghosting his. He gasped, “That’s too fucking hot.”

He flipped us over, kissing me deeply with one hand under my back and one hand at my side. I could feel him hardening again, pressing against my thigh. He brought his hand down over my stomach, barely touching my skin with his fingertips and yet making me shiver under him. “These..” He said quietly, pulling at the panties, “.. have got to go.”

He used his index finger to slowly pull them down to my knees and I wiggled them the rest of the way off. He kicked off his boots and pants, then pressed his body, lined up at my entrance. “You’re so sexy..” He mumbled while sucking at my neck.

Pleasure surged through my body as he pushed into me, so I tilted my head back against the mattress and let out a moan. Michael picked up the pace, nipping at the tender skin of my breasts as I cried out for him, every little movement pushing me closer and closer, and he could tell.

“Cum for me, y/n,” He whispered, nibbling at my earlobe.

“Not until you do,” I panted out, grasping his shoulders as he thrust into me.

“I want you to,” He told me, biting his lip and letting out a slight groan.

I pulled him down to rest his forehead against mine by grabbing the back of his neck, something that always pushed him over the edge. Goosebumps covered his body in seconds and he moaned loudly, cumming inside of me with almost no warning. I focused on holding back, not through with him yet.

He pulled out and collapsed on top of me. I snickered, “I don’t think so, Birthday Boy.” Before he could object, I pushed him off of me and back on the bed. I took a deep breath before straddling him, putting my palms flat on his chest and positioned myself over top of him. Giving him no time to fall soft, I swiveled my hips so that my clit rubbed against his tip, making us both to cry out.

I lowered myself onto him slowly, bouncing at a steady pace. Michael covered his eyes with his hands. “Baby, I think I’m done— I, I—”

I grabbed his hands, pinning them on either sides of his shoulders and pressed my lips to his. He gave my tongue permission to explore every inch of his as I rolled my hips on him quickly. I was still holding back my release.

“One,” I whispered against his lips.

“I can’t,” He told me again.


“Y/n,” He said, then slipped his fingers between mine, grasping them tightly. He bucked his hips upward, slamming into me as I dropped down on him one last time.

“Three,” we moaned in unison.

He came again and I finally let myself go around him before lifting myself off of him. I rested on top of him, still holding his hands tightly as I tried to regain my composure, but I was a quivering mess.

“You know what I’m thinking about right now?” Michael said, trying to calm his panting.

“Anything but sex,” I mumbled, too exhausted to move.

“That cake you made,” He chuckled quietly, gently pushing me off of him and pulling the covers over me. He got up, stretched and yawned, then walked off to the kitchen without a care to put any type of clothes on.

When he returned, he crawled under the covers and put the cake on the nightstand. He reached down and cupped his hand between my legs, smirking, “You ready for round two?”

“I didn’t promise you a round two,” I told him.

“I’m kidding,” He smiled, leaning down to kiss me.

While pulling his hand away, he purposely brushed his finger over my clit, making me whimper against his lips.

“I hate you,” I pouted, resting my head back against the pillow and squeezing my thighs together, only making it worse.

“I love you,” He smiled, feeding me a forkful of cake.

“Happy birthday, Mikey,” I replied quietly as he cuddled up to me.

"And this is only nineteen,” He chuckled. “Can’t wait to see what I get when I’m twenty-one.”

— Jessie xx

A/N: Hey guys, I know it’s been a while (okay, a long long long time) since I’ve posted anything but I’ve been really busy with work and school, I hope you understand. Good news though, we’ve got a week off so I plan on doing a bunch of requests, because we’ve got a lot piled up. Hope you guys liked this one, it’s good to be back.

Oikawa’s fall from grace during the Karasuno v. Seijoh match

We all saw how after setting to Iwa ALL THE WAY ACROSS THE COURT WHILE MOVING and still managed to get it perfectly to him, Oikawa crashed into a bunch of tables and slipped on the carpet while trying to get back into play. 

To me, this was clear foreshadowing (although it was pretty evident at that point) of how Seijoh was losing the match. He was desperate, doing anything he could to try and win no matter what. But even against his best efforts, how hard he worked, his work was all for nothing. He tried to get up but something he couldn’t control kept him down, much like the difference between his skills and Kageyamas. Him trying hard to be the best player he can for his team but someone else being better. Something that Oikawa feared ever since middle school where they played together and he caught a glimpse of, for the first time, the fact that he can’t be the best forever.

In short, this symbolized his fall from grace. He was acknowledged as “The Great King” by Hinata, meaning he was put on a pedestal and thought of as better than Hinata. But after Hinata defeated this immense and seemingly impossible to crush opponent, he can’t think of Oikawa as an absolute and indestructible power anymore. Kageyama can see that Oikawa isn’t as powerful as he idolized him to be, and Oikawa is finally being surpassed by Kageyama. Oikawa knew all this, and saw it in finality as the gap in points between the two teams widened.

And to make all this more painful for him, pointed out in this ask on @hailsousuke‘s blog, Oikawa fell while trying to get back up onto his BAD KNEE. He was in physical and emotional pain, fighting against the realization that he is being surpassed and the pain brought by his knee must have been neARLY UNBEARABLE. But he kept playing knowing that if he gave up, his team would no longer have a strong six players, despite the obvious fact that Karasuno’s six were stronger, proven by their points. He knew that everyone else was fighting till the end, that if he gave up he would never be able to play volleyball with this team again. As their captain he had a responsibility to his teammates to hold face and push himself to his limits, even if it meant fighting against a barrier of mind and bodily pain. 

Stuff Jotaro and Polnareff the real platonic match made in heaven is Kakyoin and Abdul because

  • >kid who’s grown up with no stand and knowing nothing of himself finds out everything he’s ever wanted to know through Abdul, another born user. Asks so many questions and compares experiences 
  • >he’s shown to be so interested in culture, they probably get lost in some history of Egypt discussion which nobody else could care about less if they literally tried 
  • >only crusaders who can reliably cook 
  • >“sorry me and Abdul don’t have to do any washing up ever as we cooked it so sorry Mr joestar and jojo” 
  • >“fuck you kakyoin and abdul you sneaky bastards” 
  • >Abdul is like the only person who finds kakyoins jokes reliably funny. He tries but they’re all kind of flat he’s never had any friends in his entire life but Abdul belly-laughing so hard at every single one 
  • >they’re those people at the food market deciding what to have and discussing what to cook omg- this would be lovely if we picked up the asparagus from earlier. Good idea, though we’d have to swap the the cardamon for- yes you’re right of course (Joseph is just HURRY UP)
  • >on a more serious note though, they’d probably be able to communicate really well- kakyoin really does need somebody older to sort of unload to and have them respond back well? About his childhood and especially meeting dio and Abdul is really perfect for both

Ok I’m done


This is your friendly reminder that, as a fictionkin/otherkin person, I am, as many other fickins are, MENTALLY ILL. We use fictional characters and works to function; to make our lives a little brighter. Most people who abuse us and bully us about it have it so much easier.

If you destroy something that makes someone happy, REGARDLESS if you are a fictionkin/otherkin, neurodivergent, LGBT, cishet or neurotypical, a poc or not, you are an asshole.

Telling people they’re invalid because they don’t completely match up with their kintypes ( and yes, this applies to race, disabilities, appearance, ) is a HUGELY shit thing to do to someone. Some of us have nothing left to keep us alive, some of us have nothing else to wake up for. Stop it. Your opinion is valid but you should never, EVER, use that opinion to hurt someone else’s identity.

If nothing, the people in the fickin/otherkin community should be supportive, loving and caring towards one another. And if I had it my way, I’d love for EVERYONE to be supportive of one another, ( as long as what they’re doing isn’t hurtful to someone else. )

Something funny is that people who believe in all the boys’ “relationships” or who believe that nothing is being hidden or covered up by their team often accuse those who analyze these things of not believing what the boys say. 

In reality, hardly any of the fake relationships are ever officially confirmed and many of them are actually denied at least once.  Only the ones that are meant to last more than a few months tend to get confirmed.

Those who say “oh, (s)he denied it, but it’s obviously a lie and they’re dating”, have no ground to stand on when someone else says “this supposed relationship doesn’t match up with what I can see for myself, it’s obviously a lie” instead.

Minkey & Ontae: Without Limits, pg-15

AUTHOR: otshineon

PAIRING: Minkey, hints of Ontae


RATED: pg-15

Read on: AO3 // AFF

SUMMARY: In which Minho buys flowers, Jinki doesn’t burn down Jjong’s house (thank god), Taemin is his usual trash baby self & Key plays his hand at match-making. Ft. autistic Taem & aro ace Jjong!

Sequel to Like You Imagined. I hope it lives up to expectations!

Dedicated to one of my most favourite fic authors ever aka senpai: taketaemtoyourleader​.  Thank you for inspiring, motivating and making me flail with happiness on so many occasions.

Minho glances down at his watch and frowns at the time. He doesn’t want to forgo the flowers, but if that’s what it takes to be on time…

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♣ s p o i l e d | rotten
↳ Steve/Bucky AU -- Heavily based off of bits from this video.

      Steve Rogers is a war veteran, having achieved more in his military career than he ever had in other areas of his life. When he comes home, there isn’t a family to share his awards with, there aren’t friends that didn’t serve and come home with him he can distract himself with. 

      Having nothing else to do with his time, he falls into a line of personal security, serving as a bodyguard to the people of interest who hire him. It’s a year after he grows familiar with his business he receives a request to be the personal caretaker of one James Buchanan Barnes. Though not his usual line of work, he takes the offer, recognizing the Barnes family as one of high wealth and military stature. 

      James is something of a golden boy, having served some time in the war as well and proven himself to be more than exceptional. But he isn’t the prodigal son the public has been lead to believe. He’s something of a spoiled brat, all snark and no boundaries, when Steve initially meets him. Steve has to remind himself that his job is to protect and keep an eye on him, not judge, regardless of how tiresome his antics eventually become.

      During his time serving the Barnes family, he finds the dirty secrets covered up by looking the other way so long as James keeps up the appropriate appearance: (mild) drug use, reckless night endeavors, usually to clubs where Steve is forced into watching his client’s self-destructive tendencies. And one secret his mother and father don’t know: James’ closeted homosexuality.

      Steve admittedly attempts to interfere more than once, trying to nudge him in the right direction to living clean and is repeatedly told to mind his business. Yet the more he stands by, the more he bears witness to James coming undone at the seams and crumbling under the pressure his family name and military reputation has placed upon his shoulders.

      It’s only when James attempts to commit suicide through carbon monoxide poisoning, that Steve gets involved. Ignoring the perimeters initially set in his contract to abide, he fights for James to recover from the life of lies he was leading – whether he wants to or not.