i'll get down on my hands and knees and beg if i have to

without really meaning it

The Way You Said “I Love You” Prompts
@stileslydiah requested “24. Without really meaning it”

Watching Derek dote on someone is hard – harder than Stiles thought it would ever be, despite the fact he knows it’s insincere; despite the fact it’s the job and nothing more.

 It’s hard because Stiles hasn’t had those arms around him in months, hasn’t had opportunity to arrange a chance meeting on a crowded street in weeks, hasn’t had Derek’s eyes meet his and watched his mouth curl into a smile for him.

 Derek’s team have been fairly indulgent, letting Stiles tag along on the assignment to observe and allowing him to blend with various crowds just to be close to Derek. Early on, before Derek insinuated himself into their mark’s life, they even allowed them to talk on the phone, but that might as well have been in another lifetime.

 Sometimes, Stiles hates his job, hates Derek’s job, hates the fact they’d never have met if it wasn’t for their jobs because then he can’t hate it as much.

 Stiles is across the restaurant and he can’t tear his eyes away from the back of Derek’s head for more than a few seconds at a time, usually at the prompting of the agent he’s sitting across from.

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Leave ‘Em On (Lin-Manuel x Reader)

Summary: Lin was ready to take you home before the night even started.

Word Count: 1,585

Warnings: Pretty suggestive, mentions of alcohol.

A/N: I’m kinda, sorta, really trash for suave!Lin and I was listening to trashy R&B which only encourages me more. I’m….really sorry for this. I had no idea how to title this.

“You almost ready, sweetheart?” Lin called and you bent down to slip the back of your pumps around your heel before you snagged your clutch from where it rested on your dresser. You waltzed out into the living room and his eyes were drawn by the clicking of your heels. You would’ve smirked when he gaped at you if you hadn’t been so focused on the tie he was fumbling with. You rolled your eyes and moved to take it from his hands.

“You look good.” Lin murmured and you hummed a thank you as you focused on unknotting the silky material, breathing a sigh of relief when you got it untangled seamlessly. He took the opportunity to swoop down and capture your lips with his, tilting your chin up so he could kiss you fully. His lips were quick to trail from your mouth to your neck, leaving a wake of brief kisses in their path.

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anonymous asked:

15, Varlen and Dorian

Prompt #15 - Trembling Hands (approx 700 words, some under the cut <3)

Pavellan. Varlen Lavellan x Dorian Pavus. Contains non-explicit mention of past abuse.

“I-It wasn’t my fault!”

“Shhh, I know.”

“They made me… made me do it. T-They…”

Hush. It’s all right. I’m here, amatus. Just breathe. In and out.”

Varlen’s hands trembled as words stuck in his throat like tar. He was wrapped in the thin sheet of a foreign bed. Silk. Orlesian. They were in Orlais. He remembered sluggishly as the luxurious room pulled back into focus, slowly losing the blurry edges of sleep. Sleep that tugged at him. Tugged at him like those hands all those years ago, trying to drag him back. Back to the ground. Across the wood and stones. Back to somewhere he never wanted to go.

A hand brushed against Varlen’s temple, gently sweeping the hair from his face. The motion was distant, on the periphery of both vision and awareness. Varlen blinked, and swore it took a handful of seconds just to complete the simple motion. Then, something warm wrapped around his shoulders. An arm. 


It was too much. Varlen shivered then curled against him, burying his head in the crook of his neck. He smelled familiar. Wine. Parchment. Ink. Wine first, because it lingered sweetly on both their skin. Parchment and ink because he had been writing something before bed. It still stained the tips of his fingers.

Just jotting down a few things, amatus. Give me a moment, then I am yours.

“What were you writing?” Varlen whispered, voice hoarse. He swallowed, desperate for distraction. Begging for anything other than the nightmare that lingered in the dark corners of his sleeping mind, waiting for him to return. The question came out of nowhere, but Dorian remained unfazed. His hand rubbed Varlen’s arm as the other reached around to draw him into something more resembling an embrace. To hold him.

“A list,” Dorian answered softly, keeping his voice low. Soothing. “Of things that caught my eye during the evening’s festivities. Other than the assassins and murder, of course.”

Varlen choked out a laugh, sniffing, reaching up to awkwardly rub the wetness from his eyes through the small gap between his chest and Dorian’s arm. “L-Like what?”

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{What If} Templar Jacob Frye x S/O

{For some reason I cannot stop thinking about ‘what if’ with Jacob Frye being a Templar and being the one in control of London with his sister and not Starrick, and all the crap he’d try to do just to make his s/o happy—using his 40 y/o self for the thought as it would make more sense for this mindless brief drabble before bed.}

“I would give you everything you ask for and more,” insisted Jacob, grabbing at his lover’s arms as he held her tightly in place there against the wall of the corridor she was so intent to try and leave him by. “I have that power to grant you anything you desire.”

She shook her head, moving his hand away from her face with a discontent wrinkle of her brow. “It is not power that can give me the love I truly want, Mr. Frye,” she whispered, her tone harboring on heartbreak. “All I want is for you to love me without the aid of control and trinkets that you wish to give me.”

“I do love you!” Jacob’s words escaped through his clenched teeth as he desperately held her hands close to his chest. “Soon, the Piece of Eden will be mine, and I can—!”

“Again with that,” she interrupted with a heavy sigh, moving his touch from her own and trying to escape his grasp only to have him grip upon her upper arm to keep her still. “Jacob, you just don’t understand…it isn’t that which will make me happy!”

“What do you wish of me to give then?” Jacob questioned, nearly on his knees begging as he hated seeing her so unsatisfied with everything he had tried to do to make her happy. “I gave you freedom from the streets of London, and I trained you well in terms of weaponry…” He sighed, shaking his head. “What have I done to make you resent me so?”

She pulled her hands back from his touch, backing up slowly with a regretful look. “You became as this: a man…obsessed with power and trying to feed it upon others in hopes they will love and admire you…” She hated to say these words out in the open, and her lips quivered as she did so. “You force it down my throat in hopes I will see you as the god of my world, and Jacob Frye…you were once that until you climbed higher upon this ladder of madness.”

When she spoke such honesty, Jacob recoiled—bowing his head in regret at that confession from the woman he adored.

“When you’ve regained your true self, Mr. Frye,” she began, tears beginning to scar her cheeks upon their pathway down to her chin, “you will know where to find me, but until then, I—.” She paused, swallowed harshly to try and prevent her sadness from damning her choice of words. “—I cannot bother to be near you right now.”

I'll surely have to repay you (Damian Wayne Smut)

Requested: Yes
Request: Can you do one with Damien Wayne. Where the reader is friends with Wonder Woman and she gives the reader the lasso of truth to have some fun ;) with Older!Damien. With the prompt “Ask me anything, I’ll tell you the truth.” Just smut and some fluff towards they end
Summary: Damian and you have fun with a particular lasso.
Word count: 798
Warning(s): Smut!!!;Fluff

“Look at what I got” I smile seductively at my husband fiddling with the lasso in my hands. He looks up at me from the bed where he’s currently sitting. “What are you planning on doing with that, beloved?” He smiles, he seems genuinely interested in it, seeing as he had put away the book in hand.
“I was thinking of experimenting a little, tying you up?” I wink, chewing on my bottom lip a little. 

He raises his eyebrow at me while I crawl over to his lap, capturing his lips in a fevered kiss. The passion and love flowing through us as powerful as the first ever time.

Pulling away, gasping for air, my hands move to remove the shirt, unbuttoning all the buttons one by one while keeping eye contact with Damian.
The shirt falls effortlessly down his broad shoulders, my fingers tracing the perfectly toned muscles on his chest and abdomen. I kissing and biting his neck, leaving the occasional love bite. “Beloved…” He gasps, his muscles tensing as I move downwards, towards his pants.

Sliding my fingers between the fabric of his pants and his jeans, a low moan, barely audible escapes him, only giving me more confidence to move on.
Pulling down his pants I reveal his hardened member, the his of cold air making him groan slightly. He places his hand under my chin, pulling me up to another heated kiss.

I grab on to his hand, not breaking the connection, guiding him to the closest chair.
Panting, I pull away, the lasso in hand once more. “May I?”
He only nods.

 He had been tied up on many occasions before, but never like this, this was a completely new experience to him and his senses.
I secure the lasso around him.

"Ask me anything, I’ll tell you the truth.”

“So darling, what do you want?” I smirk.
“You beloved, I want you, I need you.“ He breathes out, eyes almost shut.

I lower myself to my knees in front of the man I have the privilege to call my husband, grabbing on to his length, gently jerking it a couple of times before licking a stripe from the bottom up to the tip and than continuing rubbing. “My love please don’t tease me like this…” He begs, his hips jerking up a bit. 

“Well first tell me, what do you want for Christmas?” Since the man always kept insisting that he didn’t need anything. “Quiet night in, Christmas sex, that sword we saw that one time… please beloved.”

I wrapped my lips around his girth and began bobbing my head at first slowly, but then picking up speed, keeping constant eye contact. When I felt him beginning to build up, I pulled away completely, causing a loud groan to exit his mouth “why y/n” he queried.

“Well I want to know what your favorite set of Lingerie that I own is.”

“The black lace with emerald green accents.” I pull down my shorts, his oversized hoodie still covering me completely. 

I seductively start unzipping the hoodie until its laying on the floor. His eyes widen in lust, seeing that I’m wearing just the set he described. 

“Oh, my love you know me so well.”

I sit on his lap once again, engaging in yet another kiss, slowly grinding my hips against his, earning low breathy moans from him. As I pull away I stand up to pull away my underwear, positioning is cock at my entrance and slowly letting him slide in, giving myself a moment to adjust. 

“You’re too good to me beloved." 

"No you’re the one that’s too good, what’s your biggest fear Dami?”His lips perk up into a gentle smile at the nickname.

“Loosing you ,habibti” he responds bluntly. 

I slowly begun moving my hips, causing both of us to moan out in pleasure, yet again slowly picking up speed, I hold on to Damians shoulders for added balance as I kiss up and down his neck. Causing small waves of pleasure to rush through him in addition to the rest of the pleasure he’s feeling.

As we both begin to reach our climax, my movement becomes heavy and erratic. 

“I love you, Damian.” 

“I love you too, beloved." 

We both came undone, I try my best to ride out both of our highs.

Finally pulling out and getting myself to my feet , both of our breathing laboured, I untie him. We crawl on the bed together, he wraps me in his arms, like afraid that I’ll fade away. 

"Thank you beloved, that was absolutely delightful. I’ll surely have to repay you.” He kisses the top of my head.

“Maybe another day.” We both drift off in to sleep, in the comfort of each other’s proximity.


With love,


Here’s a story for ya.

I’d filled the kitchen with a ton of all your favorite foods, sat you down in the living room, and turned on a movie marathon. Once you were thoroughly engrossed, I brought out the first meal. Each time your plate started to get low, I discretely refilled it. Not realizing you’d long since finished the first course, you happily munched on, oblivious to the amount of food I’d already fed you. Your stomach began to press against your shirt, but you were too focused on the movie to feel it.

It was only after the third movie and what would probably be 6 or 7 full plates that you suddenly felt a breeze across your stomach. You looked down to see that your shirt had ridden all the way up, exposing your massive, bloated belly. The “trance” broken, you were abruptly VERY aware of how cramped and tight you felt. It was uncomfortable and painful and yet…euphoric. You looked to me in surprise only to be greeted with a wink. Now that you knew my intentions, I couldn’t help myself from giving that round tummy of yours a poke. You winced, but I wasn’t satisfied. I could still feel some give, meaning you had room for more.

Since there’s no point now in being discreet, I brought out a large tub of ice cream and a huge platter of goodies. There was cookies, pudding, donuts, and more, all surrounding a delicious, dense, two tier cake. Setting the platter down on the couch, I sat on your lap, facing you.

I wasn’t letting you get up until either your belly pushed me off or you finished everything I’d brought.

Ice cream in one hand and spoon in the other, I began gently feeding you, slowly but surely making our way through the carton. You felt conflicted: your ever expanding stomach was screaming for mercy, but you’d never felt such a rush of pleasure and euphoria.  You could easily have pushed me off, but you found you didn’t actually want to. I started giving you less and less time between each bite until you could barely swallow before I put another spoonful in your mouth. I periodically checked your progress, poking and prodding to feel how firm you were getting.

Once the ice cream was gone, you were groaning incessantly, whether from pleasure or despair, you weren’t sure. Though your tummy was noticeably taking up more and more of your lap, I was still able to sit on it, so I cut you a nice, big slice of cake. You obediently opened your mouth as I offered you the first bite. As the cake disappeared, you became less and less willing to swallow the next mouthful. Your stomach was so tightly packed it felt as though you couldn’t handle any more. You tried massaging it to see if that helped, and were amazed at how completely solid it felt. At this point it was at least twice as big as it had ever been, and I was barely able to perch on your knees.

About halfway through the cake, you were unable to swallow any more, your body begging for you to stop. Realizing this, I put the fork and plate down, opting instead to focus on the incredibly swollen belly I had given you. Putting my hands on either side, I gave you a gentle squeeze, causing you to moan in agony and ecstasy.

Suddenly, an idea struck me, and I disappeared into the kitchen once again, leaving you to massage your tummy in a futile attempt to relieve some of the pressure. I soon returned with a funnel and a tall glass of water. Your eyes widened at the thought of what I was about to do, but you knew trying to resist was pointless; your stomach was so heavy and large it had you pinned to the couch. Knowing this, I took my time gently securing the hose to your mouth. Mercifully, I went slowly, only pouring a bit at a time. You had no choice but to swallow, feeling the liquid being absorbed by all the cake and food I had previously stuffed into you. With each gulp, you could feel your stomach stretching more and more. Just when you thought you would surely burst, I set the empty glass down and removed the funnel.

You looked down at yourself to see a perfectly round, impossibly heavy, painfully stuffed mass attached to your front. You gingerly ran a hand over it, amazed at the fact it was actually your body.  I stood back for a moment to admire my work, finally satisfied with the amount of food I was able to pack into you. I offered you a hand, and after quite the struggle, managed to get you to your feet. You stumbled forward, weighed down by all of the food inside you, almost causing both of us to fall. With one arm, you attempted to cradle your aching gut, and put the other arm over my shoulders. Slowly, I guided you to the bedroom, with you huffing and puffing the whole way. All that food was pressing into your lungs, making it hard to breathe.

Once we made it there, I gently helped you lower yourself onto the bed. After you got comfortable lying down, I positioned myself on your lap again, beginning to massage your tum. At first you moaned in protest, but I continued, lightly working my hands in smooth circles over your taught skin. After a couple minutes, the pain started to subside. Slowly but surely, agony faded into mild discomfort, then mild discomfort faded into a pleasant fullness.

With your eyes no longer clouded by pain, you looked down again, finally able to fully appreciate your size. You knew you had never even come close to being this full, and frankly, it amazed you. Now that it didn’t hurt so badly, you realized how incredibly enjoyable it was to be so full. You joined me in running your hands over your stomach, wanting to explore every inch of it while you could. We could both hear the gurgling coming from it as it struggled to digest the tremendous amount of food I had packed into it. It demanded so much energy you found yourself quickly tiring, and before long, you softly drifted into a deep, blissful sleep.

Sorry for the essay, once I started writing, I couldn’t stop /)-(\ Hope you liked it!

wildernessuntothemselves  asked:

Girl you got me fucked up! Cats And Dogs is so fucking hot! I'm a hoe for hybrid!au and the whole heat/crazy hot lust thing. I'm very glad you didn't make tae take advantage of the OC. That was very thoughtful of you. With that said can you please MAKE THEM DO THE DO!!! POSSIBLY WHEN ONE OF THEM IS IN HEAT??? I'LL BE YOUR SLAVE FOR LIFE!!!! jk I would hate to pressure you I'm just thirsty af. I'm so excited for the kink thing 💃🏻💃🏻💃🏻

i’m blushing real hard rn.  

tbh i was going to make them fuck, but then i ran out of stamina.  i tend to do that a lot where i write and write and write and then all the way at the end i just lose all energy and put in a cop-out ending.  

no worries!  i dont feel pressured.  thank you for being considerate though!

I don’t know if I can do a whole scenario about it, but here’s how I picture it:

You finish your internship just before Taehyung’s heat.  After being away for more than two months on assignment, you’re anxious to get back to your puppy.  

On the flight home you browse through your gallery at all your message downloads, smiling fondly at the sheer number of dick pics Taehyung sent you to “tide you over” until you got home.  They have a special place in your album next to your collection of his silly faces and handsome, full-body shots.  

Technically, you’re coming home a little earlier than usual, so you decide to surprise him.  

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anonymous asked:

Tbh I'll trade you all my love for literally anything involving kandreil + orgasm delay/denial

Also: Kandreil with more sub!Neil? And more of dirty talking Kevin?

And: Omfg your kandreil hcs give me life!! They are honestly so good!! I have this idea for a prompt where kevin + andrew tease neil with a vibrator and I would love it if u could write it

Andddd: Imagine neil getting spitroasted and hes just so overwhelmed cause his ass is raw and kevins cock just feels so good and hes sobbing around andrews dick and kevin keeps calling him pretty and hes just overwhelmed but happy. I cant deal

we all know that sub!neil is one of my favorite things to talk about, so u guys are in hella luck :) i hope you don’t mind that i combined 4 prompts! anyway i probably need to go to church after writing this, it’s like 1k of COMPLETE filth so most of it is going under a cut lol

  • andrew’s favorite form of stress release is taking his sweet time with neil, getting him all flushed and worked up
  • for kevin, it’s a bit different: every time neil mouths off or makes a dumb mistake at practice, kevin mentally adds another minute to the time he’ll spend teasing him
  • neil purposely provokes both of them because he loves it

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Beg For It {Michael Clifford Smut}

PAIRING: Michael/Y/N
RATING: Smut lol
WORD COUNT: 4,500+

I hope this is what my anon had in mind! It should’ve been up sooner, but my computer was being really annoying. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy it, and feedback would be cool!

Also, this isn’t edited, and I’m already cringing at all the misuses of “you” and “your” that are probably very evident in this one shot, so I’m sorry :(


The front door of your apartment slammed, the sound resonating throughout the entire space. It jolted you a bit, and you sighed, figuring that Michael had just come back from an awful day at the studio. You rolled over to the other side of your bed where your phone lay charging, quickly opening it to check the time. It was half past four, the hour of the day confirming your thoughts.

Michael’s heavy footsteps were heard plundering down the hall and you held your breath, waiting for him to barge in, swearing under his breath. He usually was like this whenever something went drastically wrong during the day, and you’d mastered the steps to calm him down and revert him back to the soft, cuddly Michael that you’d fallen in love with.

The door swung open, revealing your boyfriend in a jean jacket, his Metallica shirt peeking out from under the material, and a pair of black skinny jeans. His fiery hair was tousled, as though he’d been running his fingers through it anxiously, his black eyebrow piercing glinting in the dim lighting of your bedroom.

You took one look at him and sat up, opening your arms. Michael stalked towards you quickly, ripping off his jacket as he went and discarding it carelessly. He collapsed into you, your hands quickly finding his back as you rubbed soothing circles into his tense shoulder blades, lowering you both down so that your heads were against the pillows.

“Talk to me,” you whispered quietly, your fingers moving to run through his hair, hoping that it would calm his heavy breaths.

He let out a slight whine, facing you and covering his eyes with his hands, “We couldn’t do anything right. We kept fucking arguing over lyrics, and we messed up all the chords and Ash was off his game today, I don’t know why.”

“How do you feel?” You asked slowly. This was what it took. Michael was very open about his emotions—he couldn’t hide them even if he tried—and you’d learned to always question him about his feelings, because he would most like confide in you and feel considerably lighter afterwards.

“I feel,” he paused, closing his bright green eyes, “Sad. But I’m also pissed—y'know?”

You shot him a tender smile, your legs tangling with his. Michael took it upon himself to feel along your body, seemingly too tired to open his eyes. His hands started at your shoulders, brushing down your arms and your sides, fitting to the curve of your hip perfectly. He pulled you close to him, entombing his face into your neck and taking a shaky breath.

“Tell me what happened?” You ventured tentatively.

“Well, Calum was being a dick, first of all,” he groaned, “He couldn’t stop talking about the girl he’d fucked last night. It was annoying.”

“Sounds like Calum,” you agreed. Michael nodded before continuing, “And Ashton was pissed the entire day because he was off his game, and he fucking snapped at me when I asked him if he wanted a water bottle! God.”

You could feel Michael tensing up and you knew you were sailing in rough waters. Tapping his shoulder softly, you soothed, “Michael, I thought you were sad? Calm down baby.”

“I’m not fucking sad anymore,” your boyfriend cursed, “I’m pissed off at them—all of them. I don’t care if you’re having a shit day, you shouldn’t worsen it for everyone around you! Fuck—,” he sat up, raking his fingers through his hair, and sprang off the bed, pacing around, “—I need to take my fucking anger out on something. Do we have like, a pillow around?”

There were pillows right behind you, but you didn’t think to hand him one. Your mind was reeling, lips parted as you watched the man you loved strut back and forth, twisting the fabric of his shirt harshly. You clenched your thighs together, not wanting to admit that seeing him like this was quite the turn-on.

“Me,” you suddenly blurted. Michael froze, looking at you, “What?” He asked, his brow creasing in confusion.

You sat up, propping yourself on your palms and looking everywhere but his face, feeling your face warm up in embarrassment. But it had been said, and you figured that it was worth a try rather than backing out and pretending that you hadn’t meant it.

“Me,” you repeated quietly, “Take your anger out on me. Use me.”

“Use you,” Michael echoed emotionlessly. He was staring at you as if you’d gone insane, and the look on his face was enough to make you want to reverse time and slap yourself in the face for ever assuming that he’d be open to the idea. You opened your mouth, prepared to backtrack and tell him that he didn’t have to, it’d been a stupid thought anyways, but Michael was suddenly on top of you, pushing you down onto the bed.

“You sure?” He asked, looming over you, his green eyes thoughtful. Your chest was heaving with the sudden action, and you nodded quickly, “Please.”

With that one word, his reservations vanished. He pulled you up roughly and sat on the bed as you stood on wobbly knees. “Strip,” he barked.

“What?” You said breathlessly, not actually expecting him to conform to your idea. He glared at you, his foot tapping impatiently and causing his knee to bounce up and down. “Did I fucking stutter? Strip. Now.”

You watched him warily as you crossed your arms over your head and pulled off the baggy t-shirt you wore. Michael swore before the revelation of the fact that you weren’t wearing a bra. His eyes raked over your chest hungrily, your nipples hardening once they were met with cool air.

You turned around, pulling down your shorts and smirking to yourself, proud that you hadn’t put on panties either. It had been a lazy day, and you’d stayed inside, waiting for Michael to get back.

“Y/N,” Michael murmured lowly as you bent down, exposing your pussy to him. You were starting to feel yourself grow aroused, only imagining possible scenarios in your head that you would be more than willing to make a reality.

You heard the bed squeak as you stood back up, and in a second, felt Michael’s front pressed tightly against your back, felt his haggard breaths washing onto your shoulder. His right hand was placed on your stomach to keep you from squirming, his left roaming your torso and fondling at your breasts, giving them all of his attention. He tweaked your left nipple and you leaned your head back against him, your lips parting at the sensitivity.

“There are rules,” Michael whispered in your ear, “First of all—,” he tweaked your nipple again, “—the safe word is ‘pineapple’.”

You fought a smirk at the statement—even when he was trying to be dominant, Michael was still a dork. Michael saw the slight upturn of your lips and smacked the side of your breast lightly, eliciting a gasp from your lips. “Second of all—,” he grunted, “—you don’t get to come until I say so.”

At this you whined, knowing that he would edge you along until you went crazy, begging, pleading for him to let you release. Michael chuckled, his left hand dipping down, past your breasts and your stomach, before coming into contact with your aching core, cupping it in his pale hand. “And lastly,” he breathed hotly in your ear, “You will call me ‘master’.”

He nipped at your earlobe, causing your breathing to hitch, “Do you understand?”

“Yes,” you whispered breathlessly. Michael delivered a soft slap to your core, causing you to cry out, your shaking knees almost buckling at the contact. “Yes what?” He hissed to you, and you cursed yourself for already forgetting the last condition.

“Yes master,” you whimpered.

“Good girl,” your boyfriend cooed before his hands left your body. You turned around quickly, feeling abandoned suddenly, only to find him settling on the edge of the bed, “Come here baby,” he said, extending his arms and waiting for you to oblige.

You walked towards him shyly, aware that he was still fully dressed whereas there wasn’t a single strip of clothing decorating your body. You fiddled with the end of your ponytail nervously as you stood in front of Michael. His green eyes were glinting mischievously, and there was a slight smirk adorning his dark lips.

“I want you to ride my thigh,” he said simply, and you nearly choked on your own saliva. You’d never done that before, and you could feel your face heat up. Michael chuckled lowly, grabbing onto your hips and forcing you down on his denim-clad thigh, your legs reflexively parting. You let out a loud gasp as the material of his jeans came into direct contact with your budding clit.

“That’s right baby,” he murmured, his fingers moving to cup your ass in his hands, squeezing the supple flesh and kneading it. You were frozen, and Michael noticed this, quickly tapping his foot on the sleek wooden floor of your bedroom, his knee bouncing as a result and jostling you.

“God,” you breathed, finally snapping out of your haze. You wrapped your arms around his neck, using it as leverage so you could slide yourself forwards and backwards on his thigh, the material of his jeans rubbing deliciously against your bundle of nerves, shooting tingles up your spine.

“Michael I—,” you began, but you were quickly cut off when a harsh slap was delivered to your right cheek. You jumped, letting out a surprised whine, whilst Michael just stared daggers at you, his piercing eyes hard, “What did you just call me?”

“I—I’m sorry, master,” you quickly amended, and Michael nodded. You made a mental note to not forget it again, scared but slightly intrigued of what he might do if you failed to remember.

“Master,” you whispered shyly, “Could you—could you take off your shirt?”

Michael chuckled, watching you intently while his hands continued to grope your ass, soothing the pain that he’d previously inflicted on the tender flesh, “My baby wants to get me naked, huh?” He asked cockily, his perfectly pink lips curling into a lopsided and teasing smirk; you wanted to kiss him so badly.

“I do, I do,” you whimpered as you continued to rock yourself along his jeans. Warmth crept into your belly as you clit continued to be stimulated; your toes curled at the feeling and you fought the urge to moan.

Michael kissed your lips roughly and swiftly before smirking at you, “Take it off baby.”

Your fingers worked quickly, unlocking from behind his neck and running down his clothed chest. Finally you decided that you couldn’t wait any longer, and you found the hem of his top, trying to pull it off as rapidly as you could.

“So desperate,” Michael noted, his face wearing an expression of amusement. You discarded his shirt quickly, throwing it behind you and hearing it land in an airy heap, before continuing to move your hips along his thigh. Your lower stomach was clenching as you fought to hold off your orgasm, aware that Michael hadn’t given you permission to let go yet.

“Are you close baby?” Michael asked you, and you nodded, your eyes fluttering shut.

Your movements became sloppy as you felt Michael’s hands move from your ass to your front, running up your stomach and cupping your breasts, squeezing them roughly and pinching your nipples. The sensitivity was enough to have you teetering on the edge, feeling your climax build up like a volcano ready to erupt.

And just like that, Michael’s touch disappeared from your chest. He grabbed your hips and lifted you off of him forcefully, and you eyes snapped open, watching him with parted lips and an incredulous expression. You whimpered pathetically as you felt the first inklings of pleasure slip away, desperately calling them back as the heated knot in your stomach subsided.

“Master!” You whined pathetically, watching your boyfriend with wide eyes as he chuckled deviously. He shot you a devilish grin as you pouted, crossing your arms. Michael stood, undoing his belt rapidly and sliding it from the loops of his jeans. You clenched your thighs together at the sight of his fingers fumbling and the clanking of the metal.

“Come on baby,” he purred as he unbuttoned his jeans and shoved them down his legs, stepping out of them. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the large bulge in his briefs. Michael snickered as the pad of his index finger met the underside of your chin, and he tilted your face up to look at him, “You can’t expect to have all the fun, can you?”

Your bottom lip was still stuck out in a pout, eyes regarding him coldly. Michael had never been one to deny you your climax—in fact, it succeeded in fueling his ego, seeing that he could drive you over the edge in a matter of minutes.

Michael’s left hand shot out, wrapping around your back and pinching your ass—hard. You gasped, jolting closer to him, and he growled lowly. “Answer me.”

“No,” you whispered, the sole word barely audible.

Michael nodded, leaning in to press a hard kiss to your lips, pulling back after a mere second, “Good girl. Get on your knees.”

You hesitated but complied after a moment. Sinking to your knees slowly, you ran your hands down his chest, past his pectorals, the tummy that you adored, the trail of hair leading underneath the band of his boxers. You came eye-level to the aching erection that was simply begging for you to release it from its confines.

“No teasing baby,” Michael grumbled from above you. You paid him no attention as you leaned up slightly, pressing a kiss to his navel and running your nose along the sparse pathway of hair underneath it. Your fingers hooked into his boxers, scratching the skin of his hips gently and eliciting a groan from his lips.

“Y/N,” he cautioned you, and you nodded.

You tugged his boxers down, only to be met with his aroused cock springing up once the material had been discarded. You eyed it, licking your lips. It was thick, veins mapping the tight skin. His tip was flushed a deep pink, the same shade of his lips, and you perceived a few beads of precome leaking from his slit.

You grabbed the base of his cock, lips parting in awe as though this was the first time you’d ever seen it, though you and Michael both knew that clearly wasn’t the case. You leaned up towards his throbbing member, lapping the precome off the tip, Michael groaning as you did.

“Crap,” he whispered, and you tittered softly. You pressed a gentle kiss to his slit before opening your lips and taking only the tip into your mouth, sucking forcefully. Michael’s thighs tensed up at the action, never seeing you this bold before.

You held onto his right thigh with your left hand, keeping yourself balanced, while your other hand stroked him and pumped his length, the tip of his cock still enveloped in the warm cavern of your mouth. You swirled your tongue around the area, eventually deciding to quit teasing him. Bracing yourself, you hollowed your cheeks as you moved your mouth down his dick, taking each inch like you’d been born to do it.

“Fuck,” Michael cursed once your nose brushed the skin of his lower stomach. Your right hand left his base and crept downwards, finding his balls and fondling them, rolling them between your fingers and squeezing gently, just enough to rile him up. He was shaking like a fifteen-year-old virgin, his thighs quaking. Smug thoughts invaded your brain—you’d always loved to see him like this.

You were about to pull out your last trick, the one thing that you knew Michael wouldn’t be able to stand, that would have him shooting his load down your throat in record time. But before you could, Michael’s hands came to fist at your hair, gathering it up into a sloppy ponytail and pulling harshly.

“Want to fuck your mouth,” he was only able to grunt out.

You retreated, releasing his cock with a smacking sound, a bit of your spit dangling from his tip. You looked up at him with wide eyes, surprised at what he’d suggested.

“Can I, my pretty girl?” Michael groaned, studying you with hooded eyes. He tightened his grip on your hair, tugging it gently to coax an answer from your red, puffy lips, “Can I fuck your mouth?”

There was silence for a moment as you caught your breath and studied Michael. His red hair was dishevelled, his green eyes dark with desire, pupils blown out. His mouth matched the colour of yours, his unusually pink lips even darker as a result of your hard, passionate kisses. You watched his chest heave up and down, puffing out as he inhaled deeply.

“Yes, master,” you whispered.

And then Michael was moaning loudly as he guided your head back to his blushing, pulsing cock. You parted your lips obediently and slid your mouth back down the length of his dick, Michael’s fingers twining roughly in your hair and preparing to dominate you.

“Fuck baby,” he breathed as he began rocking his hips into you mouth, going slowly at first to gauge your reaction. His pace was slow, his tip hitting the back of your throat and triggering your gag reflex. You choked slightly and he pulled back quickly, letting you collect yourself. Nodding up at him once you were ready, you braced yourself again for the unpleasant sensation.

“So good to me,” Michael whimpered, throwing his head back as he eased into your mouth again slowly. Once more, you gagged softly but didn’t complain—Michael wanted to control you, and you found the idea of him fucking your mouth extremely erotic.

Michael finally quickened his pace, now rocking into your mouth harshly. Your nails dug into his thighs, trying to keep yourself balanced while his hands pushed you onto his oncoming cock, forcing you to take his entire girth into your mouth. You eyes were burning with tears, but Michael’s little moans and whines of pleasure were definitely worth it.

“’M so lucky,” he gasped, his head tilting back, eyes closing as an animalistic growl escaped from his mouth. His gaze quickly snapped down to you, how well you were taking his cock, and as if you could sense his eyes on you, you looked up at him.

There was your trick. Looking up at him with wide doe eyes, seeming so innocent while you performed something so naughty. You knew it affected Michael every time, and by the way he was gnashing his teeth together, you could tell that it was working now.

“No,” he hissed. He gave your hair a sharp tug, and you pulled off of his cock, a loud popping sound following. Michael blinked rapidly, trying to hold off his climax, muttering lowly, “’M not coming until I’m inside you, baby.”

He looked down at you, only to find your cheeks streaked with tears. Immediately his face softened and he grabbed your arms, coaxing you to stand. His thumbs stroked your cheeks as he brushed away the tears, fingertips dampening in the process.

“Oh my god,” he breathed, looking at you incredulously, “Did I hurt you?”

You were surprised to say the least. Right away, you shook your head frantically, hating the vulnerable look on his face. “No!” You choked out, your voice hoarse, jaw aching slightly. But it was nothing you couldn’t handle. You pressed a soft kiss to Michael’s lips, rubbing your nose against his gently once you’d pulled back.

“Of course not,” you whispered, admiring how Michael could go from strict and disciplinary to soft and delicate within seconds. He looked at you—unconvinced—and you chewed on your lip.

“Of course not,” you repeated, and then added—in hopes that it would prod him along and reset his mind on the original goal he’d planned for the night, “Now fuck me, master. Hard.”

Michael choked out a growl, head tilting back at your words. He spun you both around and pushed you down onto the bed, climbing on top of you and trapping you under his body. “You want to be fucked?” He taunted, dipping his head and sucking on the curve of your jawline harshly, “You want to be fucked like a bad girl?”

You were moaning, fingers coming up to twine in his fiery hair, pulling every time he sucked particularly harshly on a spot. Michael licked a stripe up your neck before nipping at your jugular. “Answer me,” he whispered seductively.

“Yes!” You cried out, your back arching in hopes of receiving friction from your bare bodies. Michael chuckled darkly against your throat, his cock brushing your thigh and setting off a dull, aching throb in your core, so close to the pleasure you could’ve been receiving.

“Beg, baby,” Michael murmured, sitting up and pulling you with him. He flipped you over and you obediently balanced on all fours, preparing for what was coming. You watched with parted lips as Michael climbed off of the bed and opened your bedside table, pulling out a drawer and fishing for a condom packet.

“Please master,” you gasped, squeezing your eyes shut, “Fuck me hard, I—I want it all. Make me sore, make sure I can’t walk tomorrow. Please, please.”

You trailed off, seeing Michael rip open the condom packet with his teeth and feeling the need between your thighs grow. You watched him hungrily as he pinched the tip of the latex, rolling it along his shaft. He looked up at you and smirked, knowing the effect he had on you. You pushed your ass into the air desperately.

“Master,” you whispered as Michael walked back over to you and grasped himself, positioning his dick at your entrance, his tip brushing your folds. You closed your eyes as he gripped your hips, fingers digging into the supple skin, and you eked out a last breathless plea, “Please.”

And then Michael slammed into you.

You screamed, your back arching from the sheer pleasure and pain coursing through your body, the two sensations battling for dominance.

Michael didn’t let you adjust. Instead, he pulled back out as quickly as he’d entered, proceeding to pump himself into you rapidly. You reached around blindly for the pillows, nails sinking into the soft plush as your eyes rolled back in your head.

“You’re so fucking naughty, baby,” Michael grunted, his hands tightening on your waist. He swore breathily and flicked some hair out of his eyes, his pace never stuttering once. You were still in denial, unable to believe that this was actually happening, unable to believe that it could feel so good.

“Only for you,” you whimpered, your head hanging as Michael pummelled in and out of you. You could feel every ridge of his cock, every vein, your skin becoming hypersensitive and picking up every single touch, every breath.

Your eyelids fell closed involuntarily and you relished in the sudden blackness surrounding you, providing no distractions to keep you from focussing on the way your boyfriend was fucking you so well.

“I can feel you—,” you gasped out, your left hand leaving the bed and travelling to your stomach, clutching your abdomen, “—right here.”

“Oh, fuck, baby,” Michael moaned loudly, his head tilting back at the sensation of your walls gripping his hard cock, “You’re such a good girl. So good for me, fuck—I love you so fucking much.”

“God,” you whined pornographically.

Michael pounded into you, working out all of the frustrations from the day, all the rude remarks he’d refrained from saying, all the snaps and the anger he’d kept bottled up. You were more than happy to aid him in the process, you thought, as he gathered your hair up into a ponytail and yanked.

Your body curved upwards, back falling against his torso as he fucked you into oblivion. Your senses kicked into overdrive; you could smell the sweat, hear the sound of skin slapping echoing off the walls. You could taste the sex in the air, your head tumbling onto Michael’s shoulder.

“You love this,” Michael gritted in your ear, nipping at your earlobe animalistically. His lips pressed against the shell of your ear sloppily as he mumbled dirty thoughts to you, your eyes fluttering closed as you acted each scenario out in your head, only making you wetter and leading you closer to your orgasm.

“You’re so tight baby,” Michael hissed to you, “I pound into you almost every night, and you still manage to—to stay so tight. Tell me why—am I not fucking you enough? Is that it?”

“Yes!” You exclaimed, inhaling sharply as Michael’s tip curved towards your front wall, brushing a sensitive spot inside of you and sending tingles down your spine. Michael chuckled, realizing what he’d done, and his hands left your hips, trailing along your front. His right hand snuck up to your breasts, squeezing your skin, while his left snaked down to your core.

“Please let me come,” you sobbed, the pleasure becoming overwhelming. You knew that even if Michael denied your request, you wouldn’t be able to hold it back. His breath was on your neck, his hands all over your torso, providing so much ecstasy through so many different parts of your body.

“Let me come, please,” you breathed, “Please, please, please.”

“Come for me baby,” Michael grunted out, his left hand cupping your pussy. As though he’d been waiting for the perfect opportunity, his thumb found your clit, rubbing harsh circles into the sensitive nub. Your body clenched and you fell off the edge.

“Michael!” You whimpered loudly.

Your eyes closed as you shook, contractions seizing your body. You felt your muscles tense up as you released, your body aching from all the tension it had suffered from the evening. Subconsciously, your hands sought Michael’s, and you squeezed them while you rode out your high, bliss running through your veins like a river.

Your pussy was suffocating Michael’s cock, and with a last, sloppy thrust, he froze, stilling and throbbing inside of you before shooting his load into the condom. You heard him swear, and though you couldn’t see his face, you’d memorized the expression he made whenever he was climaxing to the thought of you.

His head would tilt back, eyes closed and lips parted as he released. You could envision his sweaty red hair on his head, a bit of dye dripping along the sides of his face, down his temples to his jaw. His neck would be exposed, jugular jumping as he swallowed heavily, and his stomach would clench as he shot his warm load into you.

“Fuck,” you both muttered simultaneously when the intensity had died down. You were suddenly exhausted, the adrenaline abandoning you. Your body fell limp against his chest and he held you upright, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

“Thank you,” he whispered lovingly to you. Despite your sudden exhaustion, you smiled softly, a faint giggle escaping your lips. “I should be saying the same thing.”

Michael scooped you into his arms, walking you into the washroom and setting your tired body on the counter. He peeled off the condom, knotting it before tossing it into the trash can next to the sink. Then he helped you into the shower, adjusting the water to a soothing, warm temperature that would loosen your sore muscles.

“Feel better?” You questioned, looking up at him through lidded eyes. He chewed on his bottom lip, trying to bite back a smile, and nodded sheepishly. You reached for the body wash, only to have him grab your hand and stop you.

“No,” he said, looking at you with serious eyes, “I just want to hold you for a bit. Is…that okay?”

In response, you simply stepped closer to him, meshing your bodies together and wrapping your arms around his waist. He mimicked you, holding you close as though he was afraid that you’d suddenly disappear. You leaned your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes while the warm water rained down around you.

“I love you,” you told him, almost as though you were reminding him. You wanted to say it because you finally realized that you hadn’t said it before, too preoccupied with the way he was making you feel to respond.

He chuckled, kissing the side of your head gently, the water now having drenched your bodies and your hair, “Not as much as I love you, my pretty girl.”

Your lips curled into a smile, “I’ll bet you a blowjob that isn’t true.”

“You already gave me one,” he reminded you, laughing, “Tonight’s about you.”

“You’re denying a blowjob? And going down on me?” You asked incredulously, pulling back and looking at him with raised eyebrows. Michael’s eyes were sparkling, his face rosy with a post-sex glow.

“Of course,” Michael snickered, “Because that’s how much I love you.”


Hope you liked it! ❤️

Spoil Me (M)

Jungkook looked up to you, taking his eyes from his lap. He didn’t mean to hear the pity in your voice but he knew it was there, no matter how much you denied.

“Please answer me,” you stated, reaching forward so that your palm cupped his cheek. He still didn’t look away from you, swallowing harshly so his Adam’s apple bobbed visibly. “Jungkook, I don’t want to hurt you, I want to make this good for you.” 

“There’s nothing I want more than for you to do this.”

Keep reading

A Family Affair
  • *Angelo's*
  • Molly's Date: *raises his glass* To us.
  • Molly: *smiles; lifts her glass* To us *clinks his*
  • Molly's Date: *nods at Angelo* A mate of yours?
  • Molly: *turns away; waves* Oh, yeah, he's friends with...someone I know *turns back* So...where were-
  • Sherlock: *suddenly next to them; exasperated* Sorry I'm late...may I join you?
  • Molly: ...
  • Molly's Date: *frowns* Excuse me?
  • Molly: *rolls her eyes* Edward, this is Sherlock Holmes, Sherlock, Edward Castle *mutters* Sherlock is my soon-to-be-ex husband.
  • Molly's Date: *raises an eyebrow* You never told me you were married.
  • Sherlock: *pulls up a chair; smug* Ah, first date. Remember ours, dear?
  • Molly: *narrows her eyes* Where are the kids?
  • Molly's Date: *splutters his drink* Wait, you have kids? Plural? As in...more than one?
  • Molly: *still looking at Sherlock* Yes. Where are they?
  • Sherlock: *thinking* Hmm...one is out solving a crime probably, teenagers, I'm sure I left the twins downstairs with Mrs. Hudson, John and Mary wanted the toddler practice and Mycroft is babysitting the, erm, baby.
  • Molly's Date: *alarmed* Jesus, how many have you got?
  • Sherlock & Molly: *glance at each other* Five.
  • Molly's Date: *confused* Well, then...why are you splitting up?
  • Molly: *smiles* The sex was crap.
  • Sherlock: *chuckles; takes her wine glass* Now, Molly, give him an excuse he'll believe *raises the glass to the light*
  • Molly's Date: *looking between them* What's going on?
  • Sherlock: *sighs* Does the name Julia Smith mean anything to you?
  • Molly's Date: *shakes his head*
  • Sherlock: Nooo *sniffs the glass* You never get to know their names first, do you? Did you know she was fifteen years old?
  • Suspect: ...
  • Sherlock: Her mother hired me to investigate her attack. Dinner at a restaurant with someone she met in a chatroom... *dips his finger in the wine glass* I don't think I need to tell you the rest *tentatively tastes the liquid*
  • Molly: *calm* You see, while you're sat here with me, the police are raiding your flat and, well...I don't think you're getting away this time.
  • Suspect: *fuming* You have no right-
  • Sherlock: *fuming* Our eldest is the same age. It is taking all my willpower not to force you to drink this and leave you at the mercy of my girls. Far worse than anything I could do to you.
  • Greg: *enters Angelo's; approaching their table* Come on, Castle. You have the right to remain silent... *leads the suspect away*
  • Molly: *holds Sherlock's hand* It's okay...we got him.
  • Sherlock: *nods* Too late *sighs* That was...good.
  • Molly: Not bad for an amateur, eh? *pats his knee* Come on, let's round up the troops.
  • Sherlock: *smiles* Thank you for helping me.
  • Molly: *grins* What would you do without me? *kisses him*
  • Sherlock: *takes her hand* Don't make me think about that.
  • John: *running his hands through his hair* For God's sake, Will...put that down.
  • Baby Holmes: *grinning; rips open the bag of flour*
  • John: *high-pitched* Don't you dare! Where did you even get-
  • Baby Holmes: *throws the flour at him*
  • Mary: *returns from the bathroom; examing one of Sherlock's shirts* I think I got most of it out *looks up, sees John covered in flour; stifling giggles* What happened?
  • John: *glares at her* About this baby of ours...
  • Warden: Care to answer some questions?
  • Zevran: All right, but I get to stare at you luridly while you do so.
  • Warden: So tell me about your adventures.
  • Zevran: My adventures? (Chuckles) I'm hardly an old man just returned from across the ocean, am I? Should I shake my fist at nearby children while I talk about the good old days?
  • Warden: You certainly talk like you've had adventures.
  • Zevran: Falling down a flight of stairs is an adventure. Falling into someone's bed? Also an adventure. I am assuming what you're looking for are professional anecdotes.
  • Zevran: Let's see. My second mission ever for the Crows was a bit intriguing. I was sent to kill a mage who had been meddling in politics.
  • Warden: Meddling in politics how?
  • Zevran: How should I know? I got the impression it involved sex... but then I get that impression about most everything. Odd, really.
  • Zevran: As it turned out, the mage in question was quite a delightful young woman. Long, divine legs, as I recall. I caught her in a carriage on her way to escape the provinces.
  • Zevran: After I killed her guard, she got down on her hands and knees and begged for her life... rather aptly, I might add. So I joined her in the carriage for the night and left the next morning.
  • Warden: And she didn't try to kill you?
  • Zevran: Well, yes. Twice, actually. Then she decided to try and use me, instead.
  • Zevran: The woman had actually convinced me to speak to the Crows on her behalf. What can I say? I was young and foolish at the time.
  • Zevran: Then as I was kissing her good-bye to return to Antiva City, she slipped on the threshold and fell backwards out of the carriage. Broke her neck. Shame, really, but at least it happened quickly.
  • Warden: So you didn't actually kill her.
  • Zevran: Not actually, no. I was a bit unimpressed by the development, at first.
  • Zevran: Then I found out that she had told the driver to take her to Genellan instead. She had planned to lose me in the provinces. I would have looked very foolish to the Crows.
  • Zevran: As it was, my master was very impressed that I had done such a fine job of making it look like an accident. The Circle of Magi was unaware of foul play and everyone was happier all around.
  • Warden: These sorts of things happen to you often?
  • Zevran: Like being spared by a benevolent mark who then helps me escape from the Crows? Yes, it does seem to happen now and again, doesn't it?
  • Zevran: It was after that when I learned that one needn't let a pretty face go to your head. Professionalism was key. That's my moral of the day you see.
  • Warden: So you never mix business with pleasure?
  • Zevran: Hmm. Well, there is you... but I'll point out that you did have to capture me and tie me up, first. Every rule has its exception.
  • Zevran: Now that I've mentioned tying me up in that context, do we have extra rope about?

anonymous asked:

GOM + Takao started dating their s/o because of a bet but ended up falling in love with them as they spend more time together and realized that they really liked them. Their s/o find out about the bet and break up with them because they feel like they can't trust the boys anymore. They try to win their s/o back, i'll leave it to you if they decide to take them back or not :3

I’ll just write the last part ! You essentially wrote the scenario for me ! I hope you like this and I apologize for taking so long!

Akashi: “____, I didn’t mean to hurt you.” You rolled your eyes, scoffing at his remark. “You should’ve thought of that before agreeing to such a bet. Why would you do that to me anyway? Why ME?” He sighed, scratching his head, red-hues downcast as he tried to come up with a response. “I.. I’m not sure.. I really don’t know, ___. But.. My feelings for you are real. I DO like you. And I want to try this out properly… I understand if you don’t want to though.” You turned to look away from him, unable to properly think of a reply. Instead, you sighed, running a hand through your hair. “I need time Akashi.. I can’t trust you right now.”

Aomine: “Was I really just a game to you Aomine? Did you really not care about me? Not even a little?!” He clenched his fists, unable to meet your angered hues. He knew you were angry, hell , he couldn’t blame you for it. Yet he still couldn’t find it in him to meet your gaze. “You can’t even look at me.. What.. am I that ugly to look at?” His head snapped up, navy blue eyes wide at your remark. “T-That’s not it! ____, you’re beautiful..” “Just save it Aomine! I don’t want to hear it from you. Just…” You sighed, feeling tears run down your cheeks as you whispered, “Just stay away from me. I don’t want to see you again!”

Kise: “____-cchi! Please let me explain!” You shook your head, ignoring him as you walked home, not wanting him to see the tears falling down your cheeks. Were you just a play thing? Something for him to play with until he got bored and then cast away? Letting out a frustrated sigh, you were grabbed, spun around and staring into a pair of golden hues. Those same ones that used to smile brightly at you. You bit back a growl, looking away before his hands cupped your cheeks, forcing you to look at him. “___-cchi.. I really DO like you! Even if it was a bet, do you really think I’m the type of guy who would pretend to date someone if I didn’t like them?!” You stared at him, trying to form a response, but found yourself failing. “___-cchi.. I have never met someone like you. You’re smart, beautiful, and so much fun to be around! I used the bet as an excuse to get to know you, to see if the feelings I had for you were real and not just over your looks! And.. I found myself starting to love you..” he paused, releasing a sigh, “I know I screwed up, and I should’ve just been straight forward from the beginning.. But..” he got on his knees, staring up at you with saddened golden hues, it made your heart clench. “I’m on my knees, begging you to give me another chance! No bet. Just me and you. We can start over if you want. Just please.. PLEASE, don’t leave me.” Your breath hitched at the sincerity in his eyes, knowing everything he said was true. But.. How could you forgive him.. Trust him after this? Grabbing his cheeks lightly, you leaned over, so his forehead rested against yours, taking a shuddering breath. “G-Give me some time.. P-Please.. J-Just to think it over.. If you love me and respect me, you’ll do that won’t you?” You saw the somewhat defeated look in his eyes, but he swallowed, nodding before hugging you one last time.

Kuroko: It’d been a few weeks since you’d seen Kuroko after the break up. It wasn’t as painful as you thought, probably because he completely understood you, allowing you the space needed, what you requested of him. You’d come to a decision, and despite it being a bet, you still had lots of fun with the phantom player. You really didn’t want it to end.. But you didn’t want it to be fake either. You’d found him in Maji burger after practice, and you approached him, a soft smile on your lips. “May I join you, Kuroko-kun?” He was slightly shocked, but smiled, nodding in return. Sitting down, you released a sigh, grabbing his hand between yours. “I.. I’m still upset over what you did. Regardless of your reasoning.. It wasn’t fair, and I didn’t deserve that..” you paused, taking in his reaction. “Even so.. I really enjoyed the time we spent together.. It really felt like the real thing.. and I hate how lonely I feel without you..” You rubbed his hand subconsciously, meeting his stare once more. “So.. I want to give us another chance. BUT.. I want to start over. We have to be friends first, and you have to prove to me you’re trust worthy and serious about this. Otherwise, I won’t agree.” You released a breath after your speech, watching as his blue hues lit up, his hand rubbing yours in response as he smiled. “Whatever ___-san wants, I’ll do. Just.. Thank you.. For giving us another chance.”

Midorima: Not even his Oha-asa could save him from this situation. It was stupid of him to even agree to this bet, let alone keep it going. But he really liked you, wanted to give the idea of a relationship a shot, even if it was over a bet. He should’ve been upfront from the beginning and told you, to avoid this dreadful feeling. Not even the loss of a match could compare to how empty he felt after you walked out of his life. Still, he didn’t blame you for dumping him, not after causing you so much pain. He distanced himself from everyone, not wanting to deal with everyone’s words or anger. This was his problem, he’d solve it on his own. Releasing a sigh, he headed home after practice, startled to see you standing there, a slight blush on your face. “… Just so you know.. I’m still mad at you…” He swallowed, pushing up his glasses as he sighed, “I..I know..” You eyed him for a few moments, before standing up, sighing. “Well…” he blinked, looking up at you in shock, “Are you going to walk me home or just stand there like an idiot?” He flushed, scratching his head as he walked with you. He didn’t understand what the reason for this was, but he’d take it, if only to spend just a bit of time with you.

Murasakibara: “____-chin.. Can I sit here?” You looked up from your food, addressing the giant with a guarded look. Shrugging, you continued eating, “You’re allowed to sit wherever, Murasakibara-kun.” He nodded, sitting down and eating his lunch. He assessed you, trying to find any sort of opening so he could get a word in. However, he noticed the lack of food on your plate, and chose to put his dessert on your tray. He watched as you blinked, slightly flushed at his gesture, before scoffing, looking between him and the food. “Don’t think you can suck up to me by giving me my favourite dessert. I’m still mad, Murasakibara-kun.” He hummed, “I know.. ____-chin has every right to be. I just noticed how you didn’t have any.” You scratched your head, unsure of how to respond. Standing up from your spot, you felt his hand grasp yours, and you slightly smiled. “I’ll be right back. I’m just going to get something to drink.” He made you sit, and stood up himself. “I’ll get it for you. Whatever you want, I’ll pay.” You weren’t sure why he was attempting to suck up, but some part of you was happy he was still here.. Sitting back down, you nodded. “Okay then.. Thank you..” You waited for him to turn around before eating the dessert he gave you. It was still delicious, as if made from the oven. 

Takao: You were studying alone in the library, trying to focus on your work rather than the drama you’ve had over the past few weeks. At this time, you wished Takao was here to cheer you up with his jokes, but your heart clenched at the thought of the boy. Sighing, your rubbed your head, closing your book in frustration. Just as you packed up, and were getting ready to stand, a hand came out, grabbing your bag and slinging it over a shoulder. Your eyes widened when you were met with bluish gray and you didn’t know how to speak. “I know ____-chan is still mad at me.. But you look exhausted. I’ll leave you alone after this, but I would really like to walk you home once more.” You knew he was being truthful, and it made you somewhat happy he was giving you space. Since you were still confused, you just nodded, falling into step with him like always. The walk was silent, and it was shorter than you liked, but you gave him a curt nod, heading inside and straight for your bedroom. Just as you placed your bag down, you caught a small note on top, making you blink. Bending down, you opened it, gasping as the small smiley face accompanied by a short note, “Anytime ____-chan needs to talk, I’m here! Never forget that!” Despite tears falling down your face, a small smile curled on your lips as you held the piece of paper to your chest, inhaling the faint scent of his cologne. 


Solas and Lavellan are two rival Art Professors at the University of Orlais, in constant competition to out class the other within their department. Solas stumbles up on a private collection of photographs in the darkroom that belong to Lavellan and embarrassed flustering ensues. Later, while unwinding from her stressful day in her bath, Lavellan accidentally sends an immodest picture to the wrong number.

(The Art Professors Nude Selfie AU)


The darkroom door clashed against the wall as Solas stormed into its crimson shadows cast by the dim safelight. The door secured itself rapidly behind him as he began to pace the length of the room, lost in the throes of his agitation.

The department meeting had not gone how he had planned. His proposal for having his current teaching assistant assigned to him full time, instead of having to share him, was denied by the chair of the department—the professor the assistant split his time with.

Solas had made a great case, gotten some of the other art professors on his side, even pointing out that being the department chair, that infuriating woman could have any other assistant she wanted, and then they both could have had full time graduate assistants teaching in their classrooms, but no. Professor Lavellan was feisty and stubborn, and insisted on irking every last one of his nerves by rejecting his notion. If she was hoping he would give up Cole in exchange for a different full time assistant in his classes then she was sorely mistaken. Cole was brilliant, an immense asset with promising talent–and Lavellan knew it too. Which was precisely why she wasn’t about to give him up either.

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I’ll Take It (Part 2/?) (Wilson/Rogers x reader)

Apparently, from your feedback there is a big need for more, so here you go!

Part 1

“Sam, are you seeing this?”  

“Yeah, where else do you think I’d be looking?”  

You stifled a laugh under your breath, trying to not look happy in front of the injured SHIELD agents laid out on the ground around you; you didn’t want to be rude, after all.  “This,” you paused, holding up one man’s leg, “is a perfectly applied cast, performed in the field, at that.  Look at how perfectly aligned that foot is.  Damn, I’m good.  I’m so good.”

“You, sweetheart, are perfect.”

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so, i’ve heard

i wrote something because i heard harry was previously exploited by someone and well, that’s not very nice. anyway enjoy!

Almost: 2.2k Pairing: Narry.


Paige Reifler confirms meeting Harry Styles during boybanders break between the Asian and European leg of the tour, are they going to patch things up? If the pictures are anything to go by it might just be the hottest news of the summer. Sorry, Harry girls’ looks like Hazza might just be off the market. Ow!

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I’ll Show You Crazy Pt. 6

-well, I guess you guys want a baby! I don’t really see them having a baby, but i tried!

Part 1   Part 2   Part 3   Part 4   Part 5

Words: 1,683

Warning: Violence

“Oh, fuck.” I say louder than expected in the bathroom.

“What did you do now, baby face?” J asks as he walks in the bathroom, expecting to fix something that I broke.

I don’t respond, but only lean over the pregnancy test on the marble counter.

“What’s that?” J snakes over, trying to catch a peak of the strange looking object he’s never seen before.

“I’m pregnant.” I breathlessly say, not looking away from the test.

“You’re what?” J looks at me in disbelief.

“I’m having a baby.” I explain further, eyes still wide.

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fic: The Rush Before We Touch (Olicity, Rated M)

The Rush Before We Touch (2471 words) by callistawolf
Arrow (TV 2012)
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak
Characters: Oliver Queen, Felicity Smoak
Additional Tags: Missing Scene, 3x23 My Name is Oliver Queen, Fluff and Smut
Series: Part 1 of Porsches and Sunsets: Road Trip Fics

Summary: The night before they leave Starling City, Oliver pays Felicity a visit. He’s had enough waiting, when it comes to her and being with her the way he wants.

Author’s Note: This is actually fairly awful, but whatever. I’ve been trying to write it for the last few days now and I just can’t quite seem to hit it right. But I want to move onto a birthday fic for Oliver today and this has to be posted first sooooo… Here! Have it!

You can also read this on Ao3.

Felicity was just slipping a stack of shorts and jeans into her small hard-sided suitcase when there was a knocking at the door of her apartment.  She paused for only a moment before walking out of her bedroom and across the living room towards the door.  She didn’t even stop to consider the cotton tank top and sleep shorts she was wearing.  Earlier, she’d come home and went right into the shower.  She’d been wearing the same clothes for two straight days and had felt in desperate need of a good scrubbing.  When she got out, she thought she should get packed for her trip with Oliver before climbing into bed since he would be by to pick her up fairly early.  Now, she was worrying who might be at the door.  Part of her was afraid it was someone with an emergency.  She was all emergency-d out these days.

Her heart tripped in her chest when she saw that it was Oliver at her door.   He stood on her welcome mat, a shy smile on his face, a duffle bag in his hand.

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powderseal  asked:

my current wish for season 3 is for oliver to find out from one of the k5 about how connor was so obsessed with him after they broke up, moping and stalking oliver online and stuff. getting drunk and talking about oliver all night at that bar!! that kind of stuff. or possibly for one of them to mention to oliver that connor talks to them about how much he needs and cares for oliver. but also if you wanted to write about that, i'd die a little. <3

“He was not!” Oliver said. 

“Oh my god! He totally was!” From across the table, Asher leaned in. “Olls, dude was mad obsessed with you post-breakup. Ask anyone. Couldn’t get over it.” 

Picking up his beer bottle, Oliver pointed the neck at Asher. “You’re lying.” 

“Scout’s honor.” Asher held up a hand. “Total truth. He moped for weeks.” 

“Connor moped?” Oliver asked, eyebrow raised. “My Connor.” 

Asher nodded. “He did. He totally did.” 

As he lifted the bottle to his lips, Oliver eyed Asher. “Bullshit,” he muttered, taking a swig. 

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fic: feast and famine

(Summary: For Team Blue and Angry’s Anders Appreciation Week, for Justice Day. Being part spirit has changed Anders’ perspective in a variety of ways, and he’s never been more grateful to be part of the physical world. M!Hawke/Anders (and Justice), 700 words, also on AO3.)

There’s always a heavy cauldron simmering over a fire just outside the clinic these days, and Anders isn’t sure whose it was originally, but it seems to be the clinic’s now. And some days there’s meat, and some days there’s bread to mop up the broth, and some days he’ll wake up from napping on the cot in the back and find one of Evelina’s kids sitting beside him, peeling potatoes.

And sometimes he knows the ingredients for the night’s meal must have been simply taken rather than bought or begged for, but there’s no twinge of conscience, not from either part of him. Though he remembers tying a rope to his dagger to remind Sigrun that stealing is wrong, and he thinks of trying something like that again, but it hadn’t exactly worked on Sigrun.

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