please dear god no more i beg you

Please, let him be soft. 

I know you made him 
     with gunmetal bones
     and wolf’s teeth.
I know you made him to be
     a warrior
     a soldier
     a hero.

But even gunmetal can warp
and even wolf’s teeth can dull
and I do not want to see him break
the way old and worn and overused things do.

I do not want to see him go up in flames
     the way all heroes end up martyrs.

I know that you will tell me 
that the world needs him.
The world needs his heart
     and his faith
     and his courage
     and his strength
     and his bones and his teeth and his blood and his voice and his–
The world needs anything he will give them.

Damn the world,
     and damn you too.
Damn anyone that ever asked anything of him,
     damn anyone that ever took anything from him,
           damn anyone that ever prayed to his name.
You know that he will give them everything
     until there is nothing left of him
         but the imprint of dust
              where his feet once trod.
You know that he will bear the world like Atlas
    until his shoulders collapse
         and his knees buckle
              and he is crushed by all he used to carry. 

Dear God, 
you have already made an Atlas.
You have already made an Achilles and an Icarus and a Hercules. 
You have already made a sacrificial lamb of your Son.
You have already made so many heroes,
and you can make another again. 
You can have your pick of heroes. 

So please, I beg you–
he is all that I have, 
and you have so many heroes
and the world has so many more. 
Let him be soft, 
and let him be mine.

—  Please, let him be happy ( j.p. )

actualaster  asked:

For the love of whatever you hold dear and/or sacred, CLEAN YOUR SHIT BEFORE TRYING TO SELL IT TO A SECONDHAND STORE. Please. I beg you. No more tiny spiders and ants. Please. No more mold. Dead things. MOUSE DROPPINGS. Please we don't have hazmat suits. For the love of god please just clean your shit. Please.

Sherlock Dirty One-Shot: Dominance (Requested by Anon)

A/N: As a reminder, requests are still closed. Enjoy!

Sherlock angrily shoved you against the door of his apartment. His mouth was on yours in a rough, heated passion. Hands were balled into fists against the wood and bodies pressed were against each other so that every single body part somehow connected heatedly. 

This wasn’t like Sherlock. In fact, this was something that Sherlock would never do. It was strange, that he would suddenly become this needy for you and your body. Nevertheless, it was something new and the fact that you were finally acting out the naughty thoughts you thought about Sherlock every single day was a dream come true for you. 

Sherlock removed his lips from yours and kissed a trail that led from the corner of your mouth all the way down to your collarbone. Within seconds, Sherlock had found your weak spot and nibbled down on it the second his lips came in contact with it. 

You closed your eyes and let out a soft moan, to which he smirked against your skin and nibbled down on it harder. 

Sherlock released his mouth from your neck and towered over you. His six foot tall frame made him look somewhat of a giant, as you were in fact quite short. 

He was breathless as he stared down at you. His fists were still pressing themselves into the door on either side of your head and his pupils were dilated, so much that they almost turned his eyes completely black. 

You stared back up at him with the shyness of a mouse but the neediness and want of lustful virgin. 

Without speaking, Sherlock quickly opened his door and shoved you inside. He quickly slammed his mouth onto yours and led you all the way into his bedroom without once breaking the kiss. 

When the door to his bedroom was flown open and you were pushed inside, Sherlock pushed you onto his bed and positioned himself on top of you so that his knees were on either side of you.

He stopped for a minute, clearly taking his actions into consideration.

“I - I don’t know what’s going on with me.” Sherlock stammered indecisively, “I’m not supposed to feel like this, this isn’t natural - this isn’t right.”

You instinctively sat up and caressed his shoulders softly.

The words came out of your mouth as a murmur, “Sherlock. Just let it happen.”

You stared up at him with seductive, beady eyes as you softly attached his hands to your hips and pulled him on top of you.

“I know you want it.” you purred. Sherlock groaned lightly under his breath: the sound of your voice in bed suddenly became a major turn-on for him.

You leaned forward and let your lips caress his ear lightly, “Just try it. I promise you won’t regret it…”

Something in Sherlock immediately changed. As he pulled away to look at you, his mouth formed into a charming, devilish-like smile and he let out a low chuckle from the back of his throat. 


Suddenly, he leapt off of the bed and stared intensely at you with his built arms crossed over his flat chest. 

“Take your clothes off.”

You blinked and suddenly became shy again. Now your confidence slowly started to wither away.

“Go on. Strip for me. I want you naked. Now." 

His tone was smooth, like velvet - but demanding and assertive. Your core throbbed in anticipation as you obliged to his wishes and kneeled in front of him on the bed. But you didn’t move - suddenly you were scared, self-conscious.

Sherlock huffed impatiently. 

"If you’re worried about how I’ll react upon seeing your body, don’t be nervous. You’re beautiful with clothes on, who’s to say you won’t be beautiful with clothes off?”

You sucked in a tiny breath but obliged. As you discarded your clothing, Sherlock’s jaw tightened and he sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of your body in the dim lighting of his bedroom. 

“See?” he spoke breathlessly, letting his arms fall to his sides, “Beautiful. Just as I said.”

You just sat there, waiting for him to make the next move. Something inside of you was begging you to demand him to strip too, but there was another part of you that wanted to see what Sherlock would do upon finally seeing you naked. 

Within seconds, he had unbuttoned his shirt and thrown it across the room - along with his pants. 

He was breathing heavily as he walked forward and climbed on top of you, hovering over your body as he lay you down on his bed. 

Slowly, he reached down, firmly gripped your wrists in his hands, and raised them over your head. You gasped at his suddenly dominant action but said nothing. 

“Listen to me.”, Sherlock ordered, “Tonight, you’re going to do whatever I want. You’re going to come when I want you to come, and you’re going to beg when I want you to beg. Understood?”

You swallowed and nodded meekly, finally understanding where this was going.

“I will have my way with you.” he added, “And I promise you - you’ll love it.”

Sherlock didn’t even give you a chance to respond - for he had mercilessly shoved his mouth against yours and worked his tongue inside of it like it was a routine, everyday thing. You could only oblige; so you let him roughly kiss you incessantly. 

Sherlock suddenly broke away and watched your face as he slowly ran two fingers along your soaking heat. You let out a choppy breath and a quiet moan as he rubbed you almost expertly. 

“You like that, don’t you?” he rasped. 

When no answer came from your mouth, he decided to pick up the pace. 

He slid one finger into you, which quickly turned into two. You closed your eyes and moaned. Surprisingly, he was really good at this. Somehow, Sherlock knew exactly where to touch you and when. His fingers dove in and out of your throbbing pussy as they twisted and turned inside of you in ways you would never even expect would come out from him. He suddenly knew to give your clit some attention, and so he attached his thumb to it and rubbed soft circles on it. He wasn’t too rough, but he wasn’t too soft either - which was perfect. 

Sherlock released your wrists to let his hands run down your body. You squirmed under his hands and whimpered when he squeezed your breast and hit your g-spot with the tip of his fingers. 

“Mm..” Sherlock hummed, “You like that, don’t you (Y/N)?”

You tightly gripped the wrist that was forcing his fingers to plunge in and out of you and nodded weakly. 

“M-more, Sherlock.”

Sherlock raised his eyebrows and bit down softly on his lip. 

 "You want more?“

"Dear God, yes Sherlock!”

He chuckled darkly to himself. “Then beg.”

You whimpered and moaned loudly as he picked up the pace with his fingers and placed sloppy kisses on the undersides of your breasts - with the other hand still squeezing and pulling on the nipples of your breasts.

“Sherlock,” , you whined, “For the love of God, please give me more.”

He stayed silent and let you continue on, “I want your soft tongue on me. I want you to taste me. Please Sherlock, baby, please!”

Sherlock pulled out his fingers. “Okay.”

Within seconds, he had your legs wrapped around his neck and his face in front of your soaking pussy. 

He stared at it in a mixture of hunger and interest. Sherlock looked over at you with hooded eyes and smirked. Now was his chance. 

Sherlock kept eye contact with you as he kissed your clit softly once, making you shudder. He proceeded to continue on, only he intensified the pleasure by licking a long stripe up your slit and slowly working his way around your core. Sherlock’s tongue quickly learned how to maneuver itself around you and had you whimpering and squirming underneath his tongue. His fingernails dug into the skin as a command to stay still, but you ignored it. After all, you couldn’t. Sherlock was practically tongue-fucking you like his life depended on it and no matter how much you tried to oblige to his rules, you couldn’t. He was too good.

You grasped his hair and tugged on the strands roughly, emitting a low growl that came from his throat and rumbled onto your quivering pussy. You moaned loudly as you pushed your hips down on his tongue, which only shoved him inside of you even more. 

Your orgasm was on the brink of destruction and Sherlock was fully aware of it. 

“Come.” Sherlock grumbled into your skin, “Come now. I want to taste you.”

You obeyed his command and released all over his mouth. Some got on his lips, some got on his tongue. But it didn’t matter to him. Sherlock lapped up everything, leaving him and you virtually spotless. 

Sherlock gently put your legs down and lined his thickened shaft up with your entrance, earning another quivering moan from you.

“S-Sherlock,” you muttered helplessly, “I don’t know if I can take another one.”

He growled lowly in his throat to himself. “You can and you will.”

Sherlock softly pushed himself inside of you and let his mouth fall open. He threw his head back in complete and utter bliss - the loud moan that spilled from his lips was a sign of that. 

You moaned and gripped onto his biceps for dear life as he slid all the way inside of you. Sherlock filled you up and stretched you out in ways that you never thought could be humanly possible. Despite the man’s little care for human emotion, his huge cock made up for it. 

He pushed himself in so that his balls slapped against your skin softly and groaned at the feeling of his large cock inside of your tight, warm, pussy. His face watched yours; his eyes connected with yours as he pulled out and slammed himself inside of you again. Stars erupted in his eyes and the only thing he could see and feel was you.

You shut your eyes and whimpered and moaned as he thrusted in and out of you - slowly at first but as soon as he started to get the hang of it, he began picking up the pace and started to go faster. 

“O-oh God, Sherlock!” you whimpered, eyes still shut in complete bliss.

“Open your eyes.” he growled, “I want to watch you." 

You forced your eyes open and stared into Sherlock’s. They were seemingly full of pleasure yet tired. He was close - you could feel it, because you were too. 

Sherlock let out an animalistic moan as he pounded into you with everything he had, making euphoria wash over the both of you and letting you moan in his face - which only turned him on more.

Without warning, Sherlock had spilled inside of you and started to slow down. You followed shortly after and then, he slowly pulled out and sat in an upright position next to you. 

"Well then.” he murmured breathlessly, “That was fun, wouldn’t you say?" 

You smiled up at him and balanced yourself on your elbows, nodding quickly. "That was a lot of fun.”

Sherlock genuinely smiled back at you and gave your cheek a quick peck before getting up and slipping on his robe.

“I’m going to make tea.” he said abruptly, turning still smiling lightly at you, “Would you like some?”

You giggled and nodded immediately. 

As he left the room, you fell backwards on his bed again and smiled up at the ceiling. Finally, your fantasies had been fulfilled.

Dear YoonKook/SugaKookie fanfic authors,

If you write Bottom!Yoongi, please for the love of god, don’t delete it later. Leave it up. Please. I beg of you. Don’t delete it.

On ao3 the YoonKook/SugaKookie tag has a little more than 2000 fics. I’ve bookmarked every single Bottom!Yoongi fic I’ve come across and only have 223 bookmarks. Out of 2000 fics, only 200 of them are bottom!Yoongi. 

When I want to read fics, I usually reread bookmarks because the tag is flooded and overpopulated with Top!Yoongi (and I just can’t. I really can’t.), and I usually find some of my bookmarks have been deleted. Bringing the already small amount of fics out there down by one more. 

So please, don’t delete your Bottom!Yoongi fics YoonKook/SugaKookie writers! There are people like me, who can only read Bottom!Yoongi, and worship the ground you walk on for simply posting.

Thank You.

Please, Leave Him Be

Hello~~~ I am back! And it’s in Jon’s POV again! I need to work on it.

Anybody else find it funny that when I do Damian’s POV is all silly but when I do Jon’s, it’s dark?

I do.

Anyways, here’s the summary.

I know you made him to be

a warrior

a soldier

a hero.

But even gunmetal can warp

and even wolf’s teeth can dull

and I do not want to see him break

the way old and worn and overused things do.

Ido not want to see him go up in flames

the way all heroes end up martyrs.

You all know the drill. @fishfingersandjellybabies because it is now tradition.

Also, I took this poem from this post.


Keep reading

Dear Sister, I am not embarrassed in answering you. How can you ask me if it is possible for you to love God as I love Him?

If you had understood the story of my little bird, you would not have asked me this question. My desires of martyrdom are nothing; they are not what give me the unlimited confidence that I feel in my heart. They are, to tell the truth, the spiritual riches that render one unjust, when one rests in them with complacence and when one believes they are something great. … Ah! I really feel that it is not this at all that pleases God in my little soul; what pleases Him is that He sees me loving my littleness and my poverty, the blind hope that I have in His mercy. That is my only treasure, dear Godmother, why would this treasure not be yours? …

Oh, dear Sister, I beg you, understand your little girl, understand that to love Jesus, to be His victim of love, the weaker one is, without desires or virtues, the more suited one is for the workings of this consuming and transforming Love. … The desire alone to be a victim suffices, but we must consent to remain always poor and without strength, and this is the difficulty, for: “The truly poor in spirit, where do we find him? You must look for him from afar,” said the psalmist. He does not say that you must look for him among great souls, but “from afar,” that is to say in lowliness, in nothingness. Ah! let us remain then very far from all that sparkles, let us love our littleness, let us love to feel nothing, then we shall be poor in spirit, and Jesus will come to look for us, and however far we may be, He will transform us in flames of love.

—  St. Therese of Lisieux, letter to her older sister Marie of the Sacred Heart
See Me After Class

Brendon Urie smut

warnings: teacher!brendon, nsfw

Originally posted by trinityofmars

“So what’s the answer?” Mr. Urie asked while you were in the verge to fall asleep already. Your chin was rested on your palm as your eyelids were getting heavier by the minute. “Miss Y/L/N, would you care to tell the class the answer?”

At that moment you were freaking out, you didn’t hear the question hell you were just looking at how hot your teacher was. “It’s….u-uh,” You tried to think of the first number that popped out your head, “42?” You answered but coming out more as a questioning tone.

You heard Mr. Urie sighed, “Close enough, the answer was a violin. We’re in music class not maths.” and you were just left dumbfounded your mind wasn’t functioning properly since sleep was overpowering you. “See me after class Miss Y/L/N.” Mr. Urie added saying it in a stern tone before heading back to his desk.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

The way you ran your fingers through his dark hair and tug at it as Michael hits your g-spot the way you moaned for more as you begged "please sir p-please let me cum I promise I'll be good" Michael growled as he heard your desperate pleas this moment would never leave his mind. He wish his phone was in reach so he could add this to his vacation photo album but right now he was far too focused on his own and your pleasure to reach for it. Instead he'll just focuses on your soft moans of 'sir'~🤖

Dear god

Out of the blue

Based on “Imagine falling into Middle Earth, but literally falling from the sky and landing on top of Thorin” from ImaginexHobbit.

Part two: Into the smoke
Part three: Under the same sky

Requested by Anonymous


There was nothing outwardly remarkable about the antique shop on Gloucester Road, except, perhaps, that it seemed to be always closed. You passed it every time you walked to the grocery store from the little shoebox of a studio at the top of a Victorian building near Kensington Gardens that you would call home for the next three months, and only ever saw the same lonely table in the display window, the white marble top laid with the same china tea set, its painted flowers fading in the sunlight.

The shop was inconsequential, certainly, in the scope of your giddy excitement that your long-awaited summer in London was underway. This adventurous detour before you went back to the grind of grad school had been financed by a lot of nannying jobs and even more ramen dinners, but you were finally there, even if you would be living on a shoestring. Your landlady was a trust-fund baby who had inherited the tiny flat from her grandparents and couldn’t be bothered to invest in the renovations it desperately needed, but the rent was dirt-cheap, so you stuffed a towel into the hole in the bathroom window casing and learned to order your schedule around the finicky water heater, and walked – after all, walking was free – down Gloucester Road to do your marketing.

Still, it came as a surprise on that particular day when you walked past the antique shop and saw, for the first time, that the sign hung crookedly in the window now read “open.” Curiosity pricked at you, and after standing indecisively for a moment, surveying the storefront, you quickly crossed the street and opened the glass door.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Could you do a one shot of Thor taking his pregnant wife to a hospital on earth (where he lives now) and her yelling at him because she is in pain then end it with a fluff feel?

Haha, I can most certainly do this!  Here is your one-shot, comin’ ‘atcha!

You had begged him not to leave you.  You had begged, and pleaded, and screamed at him to not leave.  You were too close to your due date, and you needed him here…to help you clean and get ready and get up and get around.  You had needed your husband here, and yet he still chose to go visit his family.

And now, here you were, staring at your broken water that was trickling down your leg onto the kitchen floor, with no way to contact him.

“Damn it, Thor!” you scream into the air, waddling over to the bathroom and sitting down on the toilet.

Searching for a heavy duty pad, you rip it apart, your hands shaking with fear, as you hear the bifrost open in the distance.

As the ground shakes and your house rumbles, you pull your pants up, shifting the pad around a bit so it feels less like a toddler’s diaper, and waddle out to grab your go-bag.  You were furious with him.  The rocker-recliner was still cock-eyed in the room, the crib bedding was still in the bag, and half of the decorations were still in boxes.

He told you he would do this, and instead?  He had gone home.

Bending down awkwardly to grab your bag, you hear the front door bang open, and a huge manly rumble as he starts running thru the house looking for you.

“Y/N!  Y/N!” he growls, finding you in your bedroom, bag in hand and slippers slipped onto your feet.

“I came as soon as Heimdall saw,” he says, panting at he stands in the doorway.

“You shouldn’t have gone at all.  Of all the times to go have family time, you chose now,” you spit, a contraction wrapping around your back, causing you to double over.

“They needed me, my love,” he said, his voice softening as he comes over to you, picking your hefty body up in his granite-like arms and rushing you out the door.

“I needed you!  WE NEEDED YOU!” you scream, pounding on his shoulder as tears escape your eyes, your lip quivering with the pain rushing thru your body.

“Oh, dear GOD!” you yell as Thor places you in the car, running over to the other side as he jumps in and cranks it up.

“Hold on, my love,” he says, throttling out of the garage and screaming down the road.


“Fuck you-aaaaaaaah!” you scream, leaning up from your hospital bed as the nurse comes back in to check you.

“This is going to be uncomfortable,” the nurse muses, her pitiful glances making you angrier as she thrusts her fingers into your body, poking around where only Thor’s hand had ever been before.

“7 centimeters, alright…you still wanting that epidural?” she asks, looking up at you.

“YEEEEEEEEEES!” you growl, squeezing Thor’s hand as he rubs your hair out of your face, nodding at the nurse as she rushes to get the anesthesiologist.

“Why!?” you whimper as you turn your head to Thor.  “Why did you leave me?  When I needed you most, why in the gods above’s name did you leave me…” your voice trails off, sucking in a sharp bout of air as you feel the next contraction growing.

“I went to ask of their help,” he says, his voice calm and his eyes gentle.

“Help with what!?” you spit, looking in his direction with wild eyes and a worried expression.

“Help with moving,” he says lightly, almost at a whisper.

Realizing what he was saying, the doctor comes in wheeling a tray, ready to administer the epidural.

Leaning you up and over, breathing thru another contraction, you feel Thor kiss your forehead over and over as it starts to die down.

“Alright, I’m going to count to three, and then you’re going to feel a pinch, and some pressure.  We are gonna do this before the next one kicks up.”

Nodding your head, you hear the doctor count down, and then a pinch, and pressure…and then numbness.

“Great,” he says, pressing onto your back as he thrusts a needle into your spinal column.

Cringing, you feel a tear drip on to your cheek as Thor sniffs.

“You are doing wonderfully, my love,” he chokes out, feeling the doctor plunge something into your back as you hear the ripping of tape before the numbness in your legs takes over.

“Aaaaand…that should do it,” he says, leaning back and studying his handiwork.

“How do you feel?” he asks, walking back around and leaning you up.

“Tired,” you say, your eyes drooping as Thor helps you to lean back.

“This relaxation should help you dilate quicker, and hopefully you will see your little one soon,” the doctor says, smiling kindly at you before leaving the room.

“Thor,” you say, your lips cracked and your skin glistening from the sweat of your 10 hour labor, “Your father…i-is…is he alright?”

As he brushes your wet hair from your forehead, he leans in and presses his to yours, “My father is very weak, and the council has declared him unfit for the throne.  He is angry, and very tired, but he knows it’s for the betterment of our kingdom,” he says, his voice low and shaking.

“How long?” you ask, choking back your tears.

“Loki and my mother are gathering some people to help move our possessions to the castle.  I’ve told them what is to go and what is to stay,” he says, feeling you nod against him.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, lacing his fingers within yours as you feel your body shaking from the work it is doing.

“I-it’s…alright,” you say, your teeth chattering.

“Are you cold, my dear?” he asks, worry in his eyes as your shaking gets worse.

“N-no,” you say, your teeth clattering together, “I-it’s just…from the exhaustion o-of…labor…”

And as Thor presses his lips to yours in an effort to quell your fears, the nurse comes into the room and lifts your gown, thrusting her fingers in without even announcing her presence, earning a grunt from you and a scowl from Thor.

“She’s ready,” the nurse smiles, running out to go get the doctor.

“Are you ready?” you whisper, your head tilting towards Thor’s as he looks you in your eyes.

“I’m petrified,” he laughs lightly, earning the first smile from you since he came tumbling back to Earth.

“So am I,” you whisper, tears falling down your cheeks as you think about leaving your old home for a newer one.


“Come on, just give us one more good push.  If you can’t we will have to intervene,” the doctor says, peering over at you from under your robe.

Panting and sweating, you look over at Thor and whimper, “Please don’t make me.”

“Sweetheart, you heard him, just one more push,” he says, smiling down at you as you shake your head vigorously.

“No, dear god please, please Thor…I’m begging you…please…” you say, your voice growing hoarse with your exhaustion.

As Thor’s eyes fill with tears, he bends down and kisses your forehead.  “You are doing so well, my love.  The kingdom is going to be so honored and lucky to have an Allmother such as yourself.”

“No, god…Thor…please…” you moan, your back aching as the epidural starts to slowly wear off.

“Come on, my love, be strong.  Be as strong as I know you are.  You are fierce, like a warrior, and you are stronger than any other human I have ever come across.  Here you are, your feeble human body, bearing the son of a God.  My love, you are perfect.”

Feeling the tears cascade down your cheeks, you see the doctor and the nurses giving the two of you odd looks.

“Come on,” the doctor says, “I’m going to have to intervene if she can’t push,” he directs his comment to Thor, who nods in his general direction.

“I want my mommy,” you whimper, your eyes closing as you bring your hand to shield your eyes.

And that’s when Thor realized that that was the problem.  Here you were, bearing the son of a God, leaving the only home you’ve ever known, and the only family bearing witness to it was his.

“My love,” he whispers into your ear, “They will always be with you, here,” he says, slowly slipping his hand over your heart.  “They are watching you right now, and they are cheering you on.  Your father walked you down the aisle, and your mother was there when you put on your wedding dress.  Your brother was there when we were unpacking for our house, and they are here now, watching over you, as you give birth to their grandson.”

And as the tears spill down your cheeks, you open your eyes, a fierce fire within your soul bursting forth, as you contract your abs and heave your torso off of the hospital bed, your hands hanging on to the railing as Thor runs around and pushes against your feet, creating the resistance you needed to throw every last ounce of energy you had into bringing your son into this world.

Collapsing back onto the bed, you see Thor beaming with delight as the doctor’s scurry around the little child, sucking his nostrils and down his throat, asking Thor if he would like to cut the cord…and then?  There it was.

That beautiful, perfect sound.

The sound of your baby screeching for the world to hear.

“My god, he’s beautiful,” you hear Thor exclaim, coming back to your side as he takes a cold washcloth and wipes at your forehead.

“Go…be with our son…” you manage to get out, your body tired as your feet droop off of the sides of the bed, the afterbirth sliding thru your body and out onto the sheet on the bed.

“He will come to us,” he says, bending down and kissing your forehead as the doctors rush to clean you up, the nurse bending down and handing you your son.

Holding him close, he curls into your body, burying his face in your chest as he rummages around, looking for something to eat.

“Here, let me help,” Thor says, helping you get the shoulder out of your hospital gown as he situates your breast against your son’s mouth, his nipple slipping in as your son begins to eat his very first meal.

“He’s perfect,” you choke out, tears streaming down your cheeks as Thor bends down and kisses his little forehead.

“Talon will make a great King someday,” Thor says, smiling lightly at you as you lean your forehead in to his cheek.

“Talon will need a great Queen in order to keep him steady,” you mutter sarcastically.

“Just like I have,” Thor says, leaning you forward so the doctor can remove the catheter in your back.

“When will we go home?” Thor turns around and asks the doctor leaving the room.

“She will stay overnight to be monitored, since this is her first child, but if nothing goes wrong, you and your family will go home tomorrow.”

Nodding at the doctor, he leaves the room.

“Are you alright, my love?” Thor asks as you put your breast away, your son already asleep in your arms.

“I’m perfect,” you whisper, holding your son close as Thor presses another kiss into your cheek.

sweet-ceraunophile  asked:

Any good mikayuu fanfics come your way?

I haven’t delved into them yet, but I’ve seen the goods  ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) just a reminder that these fics are NOT mine, I do NOT own them, I am just informing you guys of my favorite fics I have fortunately come across.

1. Awakening by @mikaisabottom

Its got protective Yuu (which is totally canon) and a Yakuza AU. Im really gonna hold myself back and say this is a bad ass fic and I can’t wait to see more of it!

These others are on AO3

2. Dear God by roriette

“He begged, “You can take everything - everything, so please. Please dont take Yuu.”

500 years; 6,000 months; 182,500 days; 4,380,000 hours. What a terribly quiet world it is.

(A world without Yuu.)

3. College Days by MikaYuu_Trash

“Working in a bakery and living a pretty simple college life, Mikaela is doing pretty good despite not having a significant others. Well, yet anyways.” It’s rated M and definitely worth a read.

I’ll make a list with more in the future!

Life of the Party (Shawn Imagine)

A/N: Normally I would put this at the end of the imagine, but I’m on mobile and just needed to tell you that this ~ means a change in flashback :)x enjoy

You heard it on the radio. Immediately the memories came flooding back and you fell to the ground.


“Y/N, people are staring.” Shawn laughed as you danced around the store, singing along to ‘All the small things’.
“I don’t care.” You said while doing the sprinkler. Shawn looked at you in awe.
“Mendes, quit staring.” You smirked.
“I love that about you. You just don’t care and dance around like there’s no one else in the room.” You blushed a little.

“Mum can I go to Shawn’s?” You asked.
“No.” She simply replied.
“Please!” You begged. Her answer remained the same, despite your pleas. You went up to your room and called Shawn. “Did she say yes?”
“Nope. But I’m coming over. No wasn’t an option.” You smiled. “Dear God Y/N.” Shawn laughed.
“I do what I wanna do.” You replied in a cocky tone.

#Y/Nmustdie was trending on twitter. As Shawn got more and more famous, the hate directed towards you increased and so this easily trended worldwide.
“I love you so much Y/N.” Shawn whispered. His arms were around you tightly.
“I know Shawn. And don’t worry, I don’t care what those people say.” You forced a smile. Shawn kissed your forehead.

“I’m outside.” Shawn said through the phone.
“Okay!” You hung up and ran out the door.
“You look stunning.” Shawn smiled.
“You’re not so bad yourself.” You replied, kissing him.
“Now let’s go.”

Jack and Jack’s house was crowded with many party goers. Shawn took your hand and lead you to the dance floor. You two immediately let go, despite the fact that you were embarrassing yourself in front of your friends.
“Can I have this dance?” Shawn asked.
“This is a fast song.” You laughed.
“So?” You obeyed and slow danced with him in the middle of the dance floor.

“Y/N, let’s go out tonight.” Shawn said over the phone.
“I can’t, sorry.” You lied.
“Your mum already said yes. I asked her.” He sounded happy, which was a contrast to your mood.
“I can’t okay!” You snapped. The line went silent.
“Okay. I love you Y/N.” Shawn sounded defeated.
“No Shawn, I can’t be with you. I’m sorry, please don’t call me. I can’t handle it.” You hung up, threw your phone across the room and immediately began to cry. The hate was too much for you.

For 3 weeks he tried everything he could to talk to you, but you ignored him. You didn’t leave the house and hardly talked to anyone. Eventually he gave up, which was a relief but also heart breaking for you. The haters had won. You had been so weak and just let them win. He began getting more and more famous and everywhere you turned you saw him. TV, billboards, his face was everywhere. A permanent reminder for you. You loved him, but you also wanted to love yourself and being torn down wasn’t good for you.

-End of Flash backs-

That was a year ago. Now you sat alone, listening to the radio, tears streaming down your face.
“That was teen sensation, Shawn Mendes with his song Life of the Party. I’m telling you this kid is gonna go far.” The radio host said.

This song had to be about your relationship. Right?
You pulled out your phone and saw that familiar contact. You pressed call.
“Y/N?” Shawn said.

“Oh dear god, save me,” Seth said, grabbing lightly onto the person’s arm as he approached them at the bar, movements a little unstable as it appeared he’d already had a few too many drinks. He thought he recognized them but he’d had a few too many drinks to be sure. “If I have to sit there and listen to anything more about Alison’s knee surgery or gossip about the fact Judy got her nose done, I’m actually going to cry. I will pay you to make it look like I scored and have a reason to go home early. Please. I’ll beg.”

knw53  asked:

I ask if your would reach out to people you know for my nephew who is 3 and 1/2. We just found out he has leukemia, and it's 92% leukemia in his bone marrow. We need a miracle and the more people I can get to pray for him, the better. So please get the word out there and I beg of you to help us pray. Thank you, God bless.

Of course! I’m praying for him and you, dear! Please repost your question and I will too!