his wrists

Cadet Kirk

Originally posted by novemberhush

Pairing: McKirk

Prompt/Summary: Accidental classical conditioning of Jim Kirk with the word “Cadet”

Word count: 2,586

Rating: NSFW

Warnings: Smut. Just a lot of smutty smut with a side of smut and just a touch of fluff and a dash of psychology

Beta’d: No, not really. 

Tags: @feelmyroarrrr, @auduna-druitt@captainsbabysitter-blog, @t-hy-lla, @yourtropegirl, @star-trekkin-across-theuniverse, @imoutofmyvulcanmind, @medicatemedrmccoy, @thevalesofanduin


Jim tugged at the handcuffs holding his wrists against the headboard. “Bones, really?” he just about whined.

“You said you wanted to do this, so we’re doing it,” Leonard answered as he looked through the box they kept under the bed.

“Technically you asked and I agreed.”

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Parasite Part 2

Okay, this one did not at ALL go as planned haha. I was planning on more angst and this was going to be the end of Parasite but nope! Instead some fluff happened??? And now there’s gonna be a part 3 because there’s still more story to get to.

Sorry it’s not as Langst  but please enjoy the happiness. I was craving some smiley Keith. Part One Here

At Keith’s insistence, Allura and Coran set him and Lance up in a quarantine room in the castle. Alteans were familiar with contagious disease and the room was built with a glass wall, medical equipment, and a communication system.

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Come Noon

Originally posted by supernaturally-collected

Pairing: Dean x Reader
Word count: 1,044

Part 3 of Soccer Mom


–Reader’s POV–

I had been right, his wrist was broken. Thankfully, that didn’t effect him playing soccer, or I would have never heard the end of it. The entire way home I listened to them in the back of the car- from how cool the cast was, to school, to soccer, and…girls. Not something I was really looking forward to.

It took me forever to get to sleep once I crawled into bed, thinking about those green eyes, and that smile. Would he show up? What had life been like for him since way back then? I drifted off with many questions like that in my head.

–Dean’s POV–

Sam dropped the subject finally, knowing he was getting on my last nerve. Him saying the same things in different words, over and over again wasn’t helping anyone. I was nervous without his help. How old were your kids? What the hell happened to their father? What did you do for a living?

Before I knew it, it was nearing lunch time, and I was pulling into the parking lot of Burger King.

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Calming kitty

Kitty can be very willful (daddy likes that ) but she knows that she need to be reined in. A firm but gentle hand on her lower back can guide her in the direction she knows she needs and wants.

When she is at full mental and emotional gallop she needs her daddy to tell her to breath. 

“Come sit on daddy’s lap in our special chair.” 

“NO - I can’t - xxx is too important, there too much to do.” 

“You can and you will.” says Daddy in his calm commanding voice.

She comes over and stands in front of him, the anxious energy shaking her small beautiful body. Daddy reaches out and takes her thin wrists in his large hands and gently pulls her toward him. She now stands between his legs, not sure whether to bolt or submit, but somehow the anxiety fades a little.

Daddy deftly hooks one arm behind her knees and lifts her, catching her back with the other arm. She is now cradled in his lap, head resting partly on daddy’s shoulder and partly on the soft leather of their chair.

He brushes her hair back from her temple, calming her as one would a frightened mare “ Shhh, it’s ok, there is lots of time. Be still and centre yourself.”

Gently he brushes his lips against her forehead, while his right hand spreads and supports her jaw in it’s large palm. “We have time for you - for us.”

His left hand supports her back curling around her midriff exposed by her summer crop top. 

First firm squeeze of her neck and Daddy’s right hand moves down between her legs, forefinger and middle caressing her labia through the fabric of her skin tight jogging pants. Kitty relaxes a bit more, her back arching slightly as she sucks in a sharp breath.

“This is Daddy’s pussy - Isn’t it ?”

“mummha”

“Daddy didn’t hear you, use your words. Don’t mumble”.

A firmer caress through the fabric.

“Yes, It’s Daddy’s.” 

“Daddy is going to help you centre yourself.”

He slips his right hand under the waist band of the jogging pants, while moving his left to grab her neck from behind.

anonymous asked:

Can you do hc or oneshots (whichever is easier!) with Reaper, Hanzo, and Zenyatta (if you do him, if not, Genji) where they find their s/o crying in the bath, bc their depression is getting bad again and they're hardcore stressing? SFW please. Thank you!

If you ever feel like this please seek help, if you can. Because trust me it does help.


Reaper


His heart aches as he literally stumbles upon you, sobbing in the bathtub with your clothing on. He kneels down next to you and gently reaches a hand out, you not even reacting to his touch.

He took your hand and you tiredly looked at him, his other hand cupped your cheek. His thumb trailed down your cheek and you slowly rested your own hand on his wrist.

“I’m sorry,” you softly said and gave a small shocked noise as he crawled into the bathtub with you, positioning you to cuddle on top of him.

“We’ll get through this,” you were suddenly warmer now that your back wasn’t pressed to the cold ceramic, “I’ll be with you.”

Hanzo


He heard the shower running and figured you were just taking a shower, it was only when forty-five minutes had passed did he start to get worried. He quickly unlocked the door and burst in there to see you laying there with clothes on, cold water pouring down on you.

He turned it off, grabbing a towel as he quickly stripped the wet clothes from your body, you shivering horribly. He dried your body with a towel and quickly pulled you close, you curling up into his warmth instinctually.

“I cannot help you,” he finally said, “but I can find those who can, please try to let them.”

“I’ll do my best,” you said and he pressed a kiss against your cold forehead, his heart aching.

Zenyatta


He could see it pulling at your soul, you barely crawling into the tub to cry when he appeared. He gently eases you out of the bathtub and holds your hand as he moves you to the open room he meditates in, pulling a pillow out and having you sit on it. 

You sit on it and he gently instructs you on how to meditate, you releasing the thoughts that bound you to the soothing sound of his voice. He gently eased you to reality, red light swathing the room in sunset.

“How long?” you asked.

“Several hours,” he said, “How do you feel?”

“Better.”

“I’m glad,” he said, “I will help how I can but I would recommend seeing a doctor as well.”

You just sat there for a few moments, pondering it, before nodding and Zenyatta took your hand again.

anonymous asked:

YES! Then can you do a peter parker (spiderman) x reader with a soulmate au?

+ soulmate au where the one thing that they are thinking most about in that moment is tattooed on your wrist
+ peters tattoo was always vague
+ it was either ‘family’ or ‘art’ or ‘what do i want to do with my life?’
+ sometimes, though, they made him laugh
+ ‘what happens if you put a werewolf on the moon?’ or ‘what do you mean, a burrito without beans? what is this sorcery?’
+ part of him would always wonder what was on his soulmates wrist
+ and quite often, on your wrist it would just say ‘soulmate’
+ it made you feel good inside, that your soulmate was thinking of you
+ but at the same time it would make it even more difficult to figure out who your soulmate was
+ when you got to middle school you would see those kids that found their soulmates, and on peters wrist, it would say ‘when will i meet my soulmate?’
+ peter felt bad, like he was letting you down, which was an odd feeling because he didn’t really know you
+ it was at those times when you would look at your own wrist and see things like ‘i let everyone down’
+ it hurt you
+ then the two of you started high school, having no idea you went to the same school
+ during english, peter would see a math problem scrawled on his wrist
+ sometimes, if he wasn’t doing much of anything, he would do the math problem too and think only about the answer
+ when you were in math class, you would see the correct answers on your arm occasionally, and it didn’t take long for you to catch on
+ but, when you were in p.e. and peter was at lunch, you would see things like ‘is that a new skirt?’ or ‘she looks really cute when she laughs’
+ sometimes you’d even see ‘i wonder if she’s my soulmate’
+ of course, you were in p.e. so it couldn’t have been you wearing designer shoes and curling your hair differently
+ after a while, you noticed that your soulmate spent way more time thinking of ‘soulmate’ and less of anything else
+ then, one day you were eating breakfast and you noticed something different about your tattoo
+ it was a name
+ liz allen
+ at first, you didn’t know who this liz character was
+ but one day one of your friends mentioned a liz allen and you had your friend point her out
+ from what you had been reading about your soulmates favorite pastime, you couldn’t help but notice that the slightly older girl fit the bill perfectly
+ but you convinced yourself otherwise
+ liz is a popular name
+ allen is a pretty common last name
+even still, you started to put on makeup to cover up the words that would wrap around your wrist and betray you
+ of course, it wasn’t always liz that your soulmate was thinking about
+ a lot of the time it was his uncle or aunt
+ and then it transitioned into spiderman
+ you knew this because you still looked at your tattoo
+ you only covered it up at school where someone might notice that your soulmate had eyes for another
+ every thought of every day (besides liz) was spiderman
+ you didn’t think much of it
+ by this time you were used to your soulmate thinking of other things besides you
+ and one time, you actually got to see spiderman in the act of saving someone
+ and from that moment on, peters wrist was often occupied with ‘spiderman’
+ thoughts of liz being his soulmate had died long ago when he had gotten close enough to see that her wrist had said ‘going vegan was the best idea ever, soulmate!’
+ he knew that plenty of people talked to their soulmates through their wrist, and peter had never gotten an invitation to go vegan
+ so when he saw that his tattoo was talking about spiderman, he flipped out
+ he told ned, and during p.e. they would have peter think ‘what would tony stark look like with long hair’ so that they could check everyone’s wrist
+ however, you had lunch during that time and found it very odd that your soulmate thought of avengers with interesting haircuts
+ but it made you laugh, and peters wrist would be branded with the words ‘my soulmate is the best’
+ this happened all year, and it wasn’t until the summer when you would finally meet
+ peter was just about to settle down for the night after saving queens when you looked at his wrist and noticed that it talked about a tiny bookstore on the corner of his street and an author with a very odd last name
+ still on a high from saving the world, peter jumped up immediately and headed towards the store that was about to close
+ you bumped into him while you both made your way in, but neither of you thought much of it
+ you recognized peter from school although he had no idea who you wee
+ peter apologized profusely as he helped you off the ground
+ you blushed a bit and told him it was fine
+ peter went to the back of the store
+ you stayed at the front
+ peter looked down at his wrist and saw ‘peter is really cute up close’ 
+ you looked down at your wrist and saw ‘she was thinking about this store’
+ the two of you started to walk towards each other and met by the fiction section
+ “Hey…again.”
+ “Hey, Peter. I, uh…well, I… I’m (Your Full Name).”
+ peter was obviously shaking as he pulled him his sleeve and he showed you the two words on his wrist ‘peter parker’
+ you looked down at your wrist and held it up for him to see
+ ‘(Your Full Name)’

REQUEST ONE

anonymous asked:

15 with Tony?

“Don’t die on me– Please.”

Why the hell didn’t he get shot? The gun was pointed at Tony. He was fully prepared to get shot, just so you wouldn’t have to. But things changed so quickly. Too fast for him to intervene.

You were on the ground, and Tony let somebody else deal with the shooter because right now, you needed him. He was on his knees, hands immediately gravitating to your gushing, bleeding wound. “That bullet was meant for me, you know.” Tony scolded lightly, pressing down on the wound.

His stomach flopped when you whimpered. “Sorry for the disappointment.” You grunted through clenched teeth. A hand came up to grip his wrist, nails digging into his skin. But Tony didn’t mind. In fact, he welcomed it.

Seconds felt like hours. Especially when your grip on his wrist was starting to falter. “Don’t die on me– Please.” The agent muttered out. But he wasn’t sure you actually heard him.

Drabbles are closed

ibuzoo  asked:

Peter / Judah - “Are you even listening?” “Yes, it just takes me a while to process so much stupid all at once.”

He tried not to judge Peter.  It was one of the themes of Yeshua’s preachings, and the one that scratched against his soul the most. Judge not.  Judge not what, though.  Judge not the idea?  Judge not the expense?  They were barely able to buy basic food with the way inflation had crept in, and Peter – Miriam too – were consumed with getting the best of everything for this dinner.  Peter couldn’t have wine, he had to have good wine. He had to have enough to offer to every person who came to the door.

Knowing Peter, he’d stop soldiers in the street and hand out bottles.  Here, have every dime we saved to fight against you, have them all, drink them all.  Rejoice and be glad.

Judah looked down at the rosary tied around his wrist.  He hadn’t rejoiced in a long time.  

“Are you even listening?” Peter demanded.

He looked back up at the boy.  God, they were all children.  Who put this kind of faith in children?

“Yes,” Judah said as coldly as he could.  “It just takes me a while to process so much stupid at once.”

ask-grimdark-bendy  asked:

"I heard about your terrible fortune, darling. I am so sorry about what cruelty he did to your beautiful self." *He takes the others hand gently and places little kisses all over the back of his hand, knuckles and fingertips. Then he finishes with a peck on his wrist, before opening his arms wide for a hug.*

-He smiles slightly before accepting the embrace, hugging you back gently- Ah,it’s okay.. But thank you.

anonymous asked:

Uhv ruined my life angel, I recently got a piercing and the whole time I was thinking this is fun but it'd be more fun if frank was doing it. Whomstve given him The Right

i feel you…… i feel you……….. im borderline ashamed of saying this but i kinda think about fics i have read whenever something irl reminds me of them OR i plan really specific and self-indulgent AUs based on whatever the hell is happening to me at the moment :^/ dont tell anyone :^/

anyway you dont wanna get pierced by uhv frank i think? he wants to tattoo & i get the feeling he gets bored with piercing people? and his wrists are hurting or something

What a Lovely Little Mess I’ve Made - FP Jones x reader (Part 5)

Did that just happen?
Did FP Jones and I just kiss?
Like actually.
The man who was too old for me, just told me I was too young, kissed me, once again said I was too young, and lightly kissed me again. 
Holy shit what am I getting myself into; because I kind of love it. 
- I wrote in my notebook. I set it down and sighed, remembering the feeling of his hand on my wrists pinning me to the wall. The feeling of his hand on my hip, pulling my closer to him. The feeling of his lips passionately connecting with mine, his stubble scratching my face.
Holy shit, what is this man doing to me?
Sure, I’d had crushes before. A couple boyfriends, but nothing- nothing,- had felt as real as that.

I glanced down onto my bed and saw a  small scrap of paper peeking out of my notebook.  I quickly snatched it from between the pages and smiled, realizing what it was. On the small scrap of paper was a phone number. A phone number, written in FP’s distinct handwriting. 

I wasted no time putting the number into my phone and typing out a message.
_-_-_-_
 (Y/N): Hey, I don’t mean to pester you, and if you don’t want to talk I understand, but what did you mean by ‘you’ll think about it’?
_-_-_-_

I expected to wait at least half an hour for a reply, so I was fairly startled when a notification bell dinged while I was so immersed in my writing.

_-_-_-_
FP: You’re 18 now, so I’ll consider it.

(Y/N): Consider what?

FP: You know what I mean, doll. Consider making out with you not a one-time thing.

FP: But honestly, you’re 18, you should be out partying and kissing guys your age.

(Y/N): Most guys my age don’t want commitment. They want a girl to fuck, and once they get bored, they move on to the next one.

FP: So you just want an older gent because they take things seriously?

(Y/N): Don’t take it the wrong way, I don’t mean it like that. 

(Y/N): I just don’t really like most guys my age but I just happen to like you.

(Y/N): A lot.

FP: I know I shouldn’t be saying this, but my, are you gorgeous, (y/n). You have no idea what you did to me when you walked into the Andrew’s living room in that skirt.
_-_-_-_




@littleladdty
@fandom–0verdose
I’m currently having trouble tagging people I’m so sorry 
Also this is short AGAIN -I swear I can only write like 4 paragraphs at a time at most
Alsooo I’m super happy that people like this! It’s all on the spot, no editing, just whatever is going through my head so the writing isn’t very good, but people seem to love it. You have no idea how much it means to me when people care about this thank youu


Runnin’

It was all over.

Everything was gone.

Everyone was gone.

He could only stand there, looking over the destruction.

The buildings were destroyed. Trees and bushes were on fire, their charred remains lying in heaps on the ground.

Motionless forms were sprawled around the ground, having released their last breaths not too long ago.

All of this destruction, and he only stared. Tears appeared in the corners of his eyes, making them sting a little.

His bandanna was in tatters, nothing but a jagged piece of cloth tied limply around his neck. His sports tape had been ripped off in the fight, only a few strips remaining on his wrists and shoes. His gloves were gone, having been torn away long ago. His bright cobalt quills were messier than usual, and dirt and rubble were caked up in them, making them look far darker than normal. His emerald eyes, usually so happy, bright, and determined, were shattered.

He had finally pushed the madman over the edge. After all the failures, all the taunts, he’d finally had enough. He unleashed his wrath, and the entire island paid the price.

His eyes drifted over the bodies in front of him, freezing when he saw an all too familiar twin-tailed fox.

His own brother.

He forced himself to look away, gazing over the forms of an echidna and jungle badger as well.

Something was missing though.

Or rather, someone.

He managed to get his feet moving, and he wandered through the still bodies, going slow since his injured leg caused him to limp.

He looked over the lifeless faces, the tears threatening to spill as he recognized many of them. He’d known many of these Mobians for years, some only for a little while, and now they were gone, right before his eyes…he scrunched his eyes shut, keeping the overflowing amount of tears from falling.

He couldn’t find the face he was searching for though. He honestly hoped he didn’t.

He had looked through most of the village before finally spotting the hammer among a group of toasted bushes. He carefully picked it up, the weapon miraculously still in good shape after being in the flames. He looked around the bushes, praying he would see its owner, preferably alive. He called out for her, but no reply returned to him.

A fork of lightning flashed across the sky, illuminating something through the smoky air. He looked over at it, his eyes bulging. He dropped the hammer and quickly limped over to it, choking on smoke in his haste, and he took the small golden bangle in his hands from its hanging spot on the tree, turning it over slowly in his fingers. Her name was engraved on the inside of it.

He looked back up at where the bracelet had been hanging, seeing a note tacked to the tree as well. The mustached logo he knew all too well was stamped on the bottom of it. He ripped it off the nail, his eyes scanning over it quickly.

“The girl is the last one. Come and save her, if you can.”

No nicknames. No taunts. Just straight to the point.

That’s what scared him the most.

Another flash of lightning, followed by a loud clap of thunder, and raindrops started to fall. They stained the note, the ink starting to run a little from the water. The rain mixed with the dirt in his fur, slowly washing it away.

He gritted his teeth, crumpling up the paper in his hand. Tears finally fell, mixing with the rain. She was still alive, but he didn’t know for how long. For all he knew, she could already be dead, and he could be walking into a trap.

Millions of possibilities ran through his head, each worse than the last. He gripped at his quills, not sure what to do anymore.

One thought shined through his jumbled thoughts, making him freeze.

If you have time to think, then run.

His hands lowered to his sides, and he did the one thing nobody would be expected to do at the end.

He smiled.

He smiled wide, showing off the same encouraging smile he gave his friends when times got tough. Now it was time to step himself up a bit.

He tore off the remaining scraps of sports tape from his arms, bending down and tying them around the gash on his leg tightly. He slipped the bangle on his wrist before picking up the hammer and looking off into the distance, seeing the base on its own little piece of land not too far from the shore. He took a deep breath, then took off.

He started at a slow jog, but soon he was going at super speeds, tearing through the burnt trees as he made it to the beach and continued across the water. His leg throbbed from the strain, but he ignored the pain.

Everyone he knew and loved may have been gone, but there was still one person that depended on him. He wasn’t going to stop. He couldn’t stop.

He just had to keep running.

queenoftheinternets  asked:

💰 //screams because I keep dropping our threads and I'm sorry

The auction had been hell for him. Unable to see, he had no way of telling where he was or what exactly was happening. Not that it mattered, he knew how auctions worked. He had been in them far too often.
He was sold, and roughly pulled off-stage by his bound hands. He stumbled along, getting half-dragged and half-pushed. Whoever had bought him was with the person holding this auction, signing papers and what not.

And then he was pushed in front of them, stumbling and almost falling, but staying upright thankfully. The zip-tie around his wrists got cut and he immediately pulled his hands close to his chest.
He had been tidied up for the auction, eyes bandaged freshly, his long-ish hair on top soft and wavy hanging in his face. A white button up shirt, dark pants, even a pair of shoes. He looked almost alright, if not for the bruises around his wrists that were already healing.

Just Imagine: The Perfect “Hubby Touch”

Ardyn’s large, bony hand snatches you by the wrist. His abrasive leather gloves pinch your skin as he pulls you straight up against his large, firm torso. There you are, held firmly against him by the pull on your arm, your head having no choice but to bury into the crook of his neck so that you smell the heavy but refreshing cologne every time you inhale.

His other hand comes around behind to support you. You are surprised by the sudden cool chill against the skin of your lower back until you realize that your shirt has been moved up, just enough so that his cunning hand may slip under. As chills run up your spine, the calloused hand smooths up-and-down upon the small of your back, applying a pressure that compels your hips forward with the rest of your body.

Slowly. Firmly. Tenderly.

At last, his hand stops, right on a spot where his cool, rough fingertips rest just barely beneath the waistband of your pants.

Imagine that touch. Just imagine.