that one was more gorgeous than this cover

Sin City

Genre: Smut, literally nothing but smut 

Pairing: Reader x Jungkook [Demon AU!] 

Word Count: 3.4k-ish 

Based on this beautiful video I found on YouTube

Originally posted by sugamysavagebaby

Demons are lining up as the black convertible pulls up to the entrance of the club. Men and women scrabble to get their phones out as the handsome devil walks over the red carpet before tossing his keys to the valet driver. Cameras flash and the crowd screaming his name earns them a smirk of his red lips and a wave of his hand. Women faint in delight at the beauty and grace exuded by him.

“Jungkook!” The owner of the club greets him excitedly, pulling him in for a short hug, “It’s so good to see you.”

“You too, Jimin,” He responds, adjusting the sleeves of his shirt, “I’ve heard you got some new girls in town? Care to tell me more about it?”

“Tell you?” He scoffs, slinging a hand around Jungkook’s shoulder as he begins to lead him from the main stage to one of the more private rooms, “I’d much rather show you.”

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anonymous asked:

alex goes down on maggie for the first time

She’s been nervous all day, and Maggie notices.

Of course Maggie notices.

The first time she asks, it’s with a small kiss to the back of Alex’s neck as she presses a cup of coffee into her hands. “You okay, babe? Quiet today.”

Alex shivers and Maggie backs off, scared she’s done something. But Alex turns around so quickly she nearly spills the coffee and puts a hand on Maggie’s cheek. “You’re fine, babe, no, I just… no. All good.”

She gives a smile that’s all lips and no teeth, and Maggie furrows her brow, but she knows Alex has a lot going on in the lab with trying to find Jeremiah, so she doesn’t pry further. She’ll talk when she’s ready.

It turns out, talking isn’t what Alex has in mind. Talking isn’t what has Alex so nervous.

Because Maggie sends her extra sweet texts all day, and she asks if Kara would mind terribly getting Alex lunch from that food truck in Chicago, and Maggie gets home extra early to draw a bath for her and cook her dinner.

But it turns out that Alex’s nerves are just that – nerves – not stress.

Nerves, because she sees Maggie’s efforts, and they warm her heart, and they make her even more nervous.

Because Maggie’s gone down on her several times now. And she can’t get the amazing memories out of her head.

And now, she wants more. Now, she wants to return the favor.

Which terrifies her. Because what if she doesn’t like it? What if she can’t figure out what to do? What if she’s bad at it? What if she’s bad at it and she doesn’t like it? What if she doesn’t like it and she’s good at it? What if she messes everything up?

But Maggie’s warmth, Maggie’s openness, Maggie’s kindness because she thinks something is wrong? It all serves to make Alex sure.

She doesn’t explain herself as she draws Maggie into her arms, as she pulls her into a deep, deep hug, settling her chin over Maggie’s shoulder.

“I want to go down on you,” she whispers after a time, and Maggie stills, and Maggie laughs.

“Wait – what, no, Al, I’m sorry, babe, no, that’s not why I’m laughing, I – is that what’s gotten you all tense today? Have you been thinking about that? Because babe, if it’s making you that nervous, you don’t have to – ”

“No, no, I mean – yes, yeah, it – I – no, I want to, Maggie, I just… what if I’m…” Her voice trails off and her eyes betray her and Maggie kisses her soft, kisses her smooth, kisses her loving.

“There’s no possible way you could be anything but perfect, Ally.”

Maggie feels Alex’s lips curl up into a wicked grin even as she’s kissing her, and her heart starts racing, knowing Alex, knowing where Alex’s mind is going, knowing where Alex wants her tongue to be.

“Yeah? Good then, Sawyer. Go lay down and take your clothes off for me.”

Maggie’s breath hitches and she obeys, practically tugging Alex into the bedroom with her.

“Babe, you sure?” she hesitates with her fingers on the hem of her henley. “We don’t have to. Just because I go down on you doesn’t mean you – ”

“Hush up and strip for me, Sawyer,” Alex says, because she’s a DEO agent, dammit, and Maggie thinks she’s perfect, and she’s been nervous long enough.

Maggie gasps raggedly and complies, laying back on the bed on her elbows, her eyes wide, her eyes soft, her eyes, now, more nervous than Alex’s.

“You’re gorgeous, Maggie,” Alex rasps as she kneels on the bed in front of Maggie’s open legs, and Maggie has no choice but to believe her.

“Al, whenever you want to stop, for whatever reason, you’re fine, you can stop, okay?”

Alex doesn’t answer with words.

She answers, instead, by covering Maggie’s naked body with her own clothed one, holding herself up on her hands to keep her full weight off Maggie, kissing her mouth, kissing her throat, kissing her collarbone, licking her way down her chest, paying special attention to Maggie’s nipples until she’s wrecked and writhing underneath her.

“Alex,” Maggie moans, burying her fingers in Alex’s hair, and Alex growls into her skin.

“What do you want, babe?” Alex asks, even though she already knows.

Maggie looks down at her and licks her lips, trying to control the writhing of her hips against Alex’s jeans, and failing miserably.

“Do you still want – ”

Alex grins softly at her hesitation and shifts up to kiss her mouth again. “You talk so dirty when you’re on top of me, Sawyer: and now you can’t ask me for what you want?”

“I don’t want to pressure you.” Her voice is small and earnest and Alex knows she’s in love.

“You’re not pressuring me, Mags. I asked originally.” She arches an eyebrow and she waits, and Maggie knows she’s in love.

“I want you to go down on me,” Maggie whispers, and Alex’s eyes flash.

“Good girl,” Alex murmurs as she traces her way down Maggie’s skin, and Maggie moans and slams her hands into the sheets helplessly.

“Ally, please,” she begs, and Alex hovers over her curls, presses kisses just above her clit, presses kisses to her soft inner thighs, teases her legs open farther, and stares up at the woman who’s biting her lip and fighting to keep her hips still, fighting to keep her breath somewhat even.

“You good, Maggie?” she asks, and Maggie purses her lips and nods and squeaks and barely holds in the begging she wants to be doing.

Alex runs her thumb over Maggie’s clit, and Maggie gasps harshly. “Good?” Alex checks, and Maggie nods more, more, more.

Alex shifts so her body is lower, so she’s laying right between Maggie’s legs, and she licks her lips, and her heart hammers in her chest, and her trembling thumb and index finger part Maggie’s short, coarse hair, and Maggie whimpers, and Alex brings her lips down to kiss her exposed, swollen clit.

Maggie screams and Alex moans, letting her lips open, and her heart leaps, because Maggie’s scent is filling her nose and her taste is starting to flood over her tongue and god she never imagined going down on someone could feel this incredible.

She tentatively drags her tongue over her clit, slow and firm, and Maggie screams again and pants as she weaves her fingers through Alex’s hair.

“That okay?” she asks raggedly, and Alex nods eagerly and moans, letting the vibration wash over Maggie’s clit as Maggie’s fingers tighten in her hair. Alex grinds her own hips down into the sheets, and she stares up at Maggie’s writhing form.

“You’re beautiful, Mags,” Alex whispers, and Maggie answers with her name on her lips, and Alex smiles as she starts tracing slow, languorous circles on Maggie’s clit, teasing her with a quicker pace now, a slower pace then, harder pressure now, softer then.

“Al, I – ”

Alex stops immediately, and Maggie whines in protest. “I want you inside me,” Maggie begs, and Alex understands and licks her lips and lifts one of Maggie’s legs over her shoulder.

She kisses her way down from Maggie’s clit to her wet opening, and she moans as she slips her tongue into her, as Maggie screams and whines and begs and arches her hips up desperately, raggedly, and Alex’s heart soars because maybe she’s good at this after all.

She fucks her with her tongue and she slides one of her hands under Maggie’s ass and squeezes, and she’s never felt Maggie so fucking wrecked.

But then Maggie’s fingers are tapping the back of her head instead of tugging at her hair, and Alex stills immediately, looking up with a pale face.

“You okay, babe? Did I hurt you, I’m sorry – ”

“No, no, Alex, I… no. I just… so intense, I…”

“I’m sorry – ”

“No, Al, that’s a good thing, I promise, I just…” Maggie covers her eyes with one of her hands and Alex watches her carefully. “I’ve just never felt anything that intense before. No one’s ever… paid attention to me like that, wanted to… to give me that much.”

Alex smiles as she buries her murderous desires toward everyone Maggie’s ever slept with, and she wipes her mouth on her shoulder as she kisses Maggie’s clit once more, kisses the insides of her thighs, and crawls up her body to hold her close.

“It’s called being loved, get used to it, Sawyer,” she whispers as she kisses her nose, and Maggie smiles broadly as she sighs sleepily, happily. Perfectly.


PT.1| PT.2| PT.3| PT.4| PT.5| PT.6| PT.7| PT.8| PT.9| PT.10| PT.11| PT.12

The first thing John thinks when he rolls over is He’s naked.

Sherlock Holmes was naked in his bed. He was fast asleep, lying on his stomach, bare ass exposed, the sheets only covering one of his legs. The sunlight crept in through the closed curtains. It shone on him and made him look like an angel. His mouth hung open slightly, every other breath was a snore, his curls fell haphazardly on his face. His afterglow was beautiful.

The second thing John thinks is He’s naked, but god is he gorgeous.

Sherlock sighs softly and paws at his face. John looks at his own body. He was naked, but his sheet covered his lower regions. He looked up at the ceiling and smiled. He had never felt that intimate with anyone, sorry Mary. That was more than sex, it was more than lust. They made love last night. It was wonderful and everything John thought it would be. Sherlock’s moans, his whimpers, the way his face looked when he finally came. It was too beautiful for words. John looked back over at the brunet, and rested a hand on his back. His skin was so soft, he worried that if he held him too tight he would bruise. And that arse. Dear god above, what a perfect thing it was. Plump, firm, it made John salivate just thinking about it. He wanted to do more with Sherlock last night, but the poor man had never had sex before and he didn’t want to scare him from the act altogether. That was the thing with Sherlock, you couldn’t rush things, it all had to be slow, it had to progress in stages.

For Sherlock, John would wait forever. His love, his life.

His hand moves to the mess of curls and runs his fingers through them, careful not to wake Sherlock. The man lets out a soft moan and John grins. In all regards he was beautiful.

He wanted nothing more but to lay in bed, watching this man sleep, but the day awaited, Rosie was due to cry at any moment. He had work. He had half a mind to call in sick.

“Love, wake up. Come on Sherlock.”

His eyes fluttered open and immediately his mouth curled into a smile. He whispered, “Good morning.” and kissed John. John moaned into the kiss, he wanted him so bad. He loved him so much. Sherlock pulled away and rested his head on John’s chest, the hair tickling his cheek.

“Good morning my love.”

“I like that word.” Sherlock said, his eyes closed and his hand rubbing John’s stomach.

“What word?”

“Don’t be daft, John, you know what word.”


Sherlock chuckled and shook his head. “No.”

“Then it must be ‘what’.”

“It’s not that either.”

“Well now you must tell me, I’m afraid I’m at a loss.” John was teasing him now.

“Love, John. I like it when you call me love.”  Sherlock’s voice was so gentle, he sounded like a child. John’s breath hitched in his throat.

“Do you? I guess I’ll have to call you that more often, won’t we?”

“Yes, I guess you do.”

Sherlock’s head was close enough that John could kiss it without much effort. He did, and then he stroked it. He looked at his clock. It was time for him to get ready. Rosie started crying.

“Come love, the day awaits us.”

John tapped Sherlock’s shoulder for him to move over so he could sit up. Sherlock laid, one arm propped under his head, watching a very naked John make his way to his closet. Silence fell in the room, but it was comfortable. They were comfortable.

The third thing that John thought was He’s naked, but god he’s gorgeous and I love him.


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Imagine being the first and only girl in the Penetrator Russ bus.

Author’s note: HEY IT’S HERE, DON’T NEED TO HATE ME ANYMORE. Once more time I need to tell you guys how grateful I’m for having Alyssa as my beta writer! Please, please, go to her page @imyourliquor-youremypoison and tell her how much you’re thankful for making me suck less. And about the fic, it’s coming to an end guys :) THANK YOU ALL FOR YOUR SUPPORT FROM ALL OVER THE WORLD. You guys are the best! ♥ my ask is always open to hear about what you guys think.

Part 1.

Part 5.

Part 7.

Masterlist ❁


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This has been in the works for months and months. I simply haven’t had the inspiration nor the time to write honestly. It’s not my best writing, but I tried to get myself back into things. I’ve missed writing and you guys

Warning: SMUT

Length: 7,000+ words

               It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He wasn’t supposed to be like this. Those sweet lips of his shouldn’t have been so bitter. Those eyes weren’t supposed to be so dark.

               To be fair, tonight was the one night that everyone could be whoever they wanted to. You had just fallen for his innocent ploy. How were you supposed to know those wings of his were real?

               It was Halloween. The sky was blackened and overcast, consuming the moon’s light. Careful of the brisk cold, you chose a costume that allowed for you to cover up well. Your long white dress dragged against the concrete even though you were wearing high heels. Your friend pulled you along, rushing you as if you were terribly late. There was still plenty of time though. You had all night.

               Someone had rented a club to throw a party. You had no idea who, but apparently they were a friend of a friend and that meant that you had somehow received a gorgeous black invitation with loopy orange lettering. Not one to refuse an opportunity to be someone else for a few hours, you graciously accepted and now you were trying to navigate through the gray fog covering the venue’s floor without stepping on anyone’s feet.

               There were more people here than you had expected and though you had entered holding your friend’s hand, she was suddenly nowhere to be found. The sea of masks made it near impossible to search for her. However, you weren’t too concerned. You would end up crossing paths again at some point.

               You decided to hold the hem of your gown as you strolled to make sure you didn’t trip as the ground was virtually undetectable under the man-made smoke. Hoisting yourself up onto a stool by the bar, you got your bearing as you sat and observed. The club was eerily beautiful with glass chandeliers casting a blue tinted glow on the shimmering onyx walls and floors.

               A tap on your shoulder startled you out of your awe. Spinning in your seat, you came face to face with the bartender. He wore a cape and fake elongated canine teeth for a vampire feel. He wanted to know if you wanted a drink.

               The corners of your lips upturned. In fact, you did. “Could you make something that goes with my costume?” you asked playfully.

               He smiled at your request but his white contact lenses made the expression seem sinister. “Anything for an angel,” he replied flirtily.

               You were grateful that he could tell your intended guise as you weren’t wearing fake wings. But to be fair, you had your back to him earlier, so maybe he has caught sight of the huge black wings tattooed on your skin. Though your white dress had long sleeves and was floor length, it was also totally backless. It exposed your ink well. If your gold halo didn’t give away what you were attempting, a good look at your back would.

               The bartender came back with something bubbling in a wine glass with flecks of gold leaf floating the in honey-colored liquid.

               “What is it?” you inquired as you handed the handsome blood sucker a bill.

               “Unicorn blood,” he answered with a wink.

               You appreciated his cleverness in the choice. Wiggling your fingers in farewell, you stood to leave.

               “Come back for some Hell Fire,” he called after you. You nodded without looking back and made no promises.

               Taking a sip from your glass, you were pleasantly surprised by the taste of passion fruit mixed with champagne. The sweetness cut the bitterness and the carbonation lightened the thickness of the juice. You really were going to have to return for that Hell Fire if it was anything like this.

               A firm hand gripped your elbow and you whipped around so fast that you almost spilled your cocktail. It was your friend, looking sexier than before in her police woman outfit now that she was sweating a little. She had found the dance floor without you and had even found herself a Joker to sway with. Kindly, he accepted you as an adoption to their duo and you danced with your friend as she danced with the both of you.

               Draining your Unicorn’s blood after a few songs, you decided to leave your friend to her criminal and sought out the bar again. There was a line this time and you secured yourself a small section of counter to lean against as you waited. You draped your hair to one side as you could feel the alcohol and dancing warm you from the inside. Not wanting your makeup to melt just yet, you fanned yourself with your hands. The gold bangles that adorned your wrists tinkled musically loud enough to catch the bartender’s attention. He flashed his fangs at you teasingly as he mixed a margarita.

               You were mid-chuckle when you felt a chill crawl up your spine. Goose bumps erupted on your arms and you searched for the cause. Eyes darting around, you caught sight of a tall man dressed in all black staring at you from across the room. He stood completely still even as you locked eyes. You couldn’t read his expression as an elegant mask made of lace obscured half of his face. The fabric was a stunning shade of crimson, which was at complete odds with his charcoal suit. But it did have the benefit of drawing your interest straight to his eyes, which were piercing.

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“While the Beatles were recording the White Album, George wrote a song called ‘Something’, which he released as his first single. He told me, in a matter-of-fact way, that he had written it for me.

I thought it was beautiful –and it turned out to be the most successful song he ever wrote, with more than a hundred and fifty cover versions. His favourite was the one by James Brown. Frank Sinatra said he thought it was the best love song ever written.

My favourite was the one by George Harrison, which he played to me in the kitchen at Kinfauns.”

Pattie remembers that George wrote Something for her. George and Pattie at Kinfauns 1968. They are gorgeous.

The Exception to Every Rule

His pale knuckles clutched and unclutched the steering wheel, his wrists locked and his entire body tense. Even though their relationship was progressing well, Greg Lestrade always felt like nervous when he saw Mycroft. It was a good nervous – those butterflies in his stomach, the inability to think about anything but the government official. All of it was blissful.

Finally, he saw the restaurant door opening and the tall figure twirling an umbrella walked in the direction of Greg’s car, Mycroft allowed a thin smile to touch his lips as he saw the NSY vehicle, and his grin grew when Lestrade stepped out of the car to greet him. “Good evening, Gregory.” Mycroft said. Greg nodded to him.

“Hey Myc. How was your meeting? I’m still upset it was a dinner meeting. It just means I can’t make you food.” Greg pouted momentarily, but Mycroft was soon kissing those lips and they turned upward in the form of a smile once more. It was just a quick kiss by way of a pleasant greeting; more would definitely be to come later on. Plus, there were people all around them, and Mycroft had a serious reputation that could be tarnished if people discovered secrets about his personal life. Greg was the same way, but it wasn’t as vital. Plus, everyone had their suspicions about his life anyway. They already knew all about the last relationship problems he’d had with his wife, but the couple wasn’t ready to announce to the world that they were each other’s better half yet. In time they would, but for now, they were happy to just enjoy each other and the best secret of their entire lives.

Of course, it wasn’t a complete secret. Sherlock had deduced immediately and had sent mocking texts to both of them, but secretly the sleuth was pleased that his brother had found someone.

“Inspector, tonight is not about the food anyway. I haven’t seen you all week, and it has been absolutely miserable without you.” Mycroft said, unafraid to open up now that they were both in the car. Greg couldn’t help the soft look that he gave the other man, pure love radiating off of him.

“What would you like to do tonight, Myc? I was unsure when you would actually be finished with your meeting, so I didn’t exactly make plans.” Greg admitted, rubbing his neck. Mycroft patted his thigh.

“That’s quite alright. I too am at a loss as to how we should spend the evening.” He gave the other man’s thigh a slight squeeze.

“I have an idea. It’s a wonderful night, and there’s a park nearby. Let’s go for a late night stroll.” Greg smiled over at him.

Mycroft, who normally despised legwork, returned the expression. “Gladly, my dear Gregory.”

A slight tinge of red tainted the DI’s cheeks as he pulled away from the curb, but they soon arrived at the park and stepped out of the car.

“So, I trust your week was tolerable?” Mycroft asked as they set off into the park, his arm hooked with Lestrade’s as they went further and further down the pavement.

“I managed. About drowned in paperwork. And your brother is being absolutely insufferable now that he knows we’re together.”

Mycroft stopped walking. “Of course he is. I will talk to him. My apologies for his behavior, Gregory.”

Lestrade stopped as the other man did. “It’s fine. It’s Sherlock. I’m used to his antics.” He chuckled softly, his eyes meeting the other man. “Why did we stop?”

Mycroft glanced up to meet Greg’s gorgeous eyes. “Just thinking about something. It’s nothing.”

“Are you sure? Is everything okay?” Greg’s concern was immediate, and he tugged on Mycroft’s arm as the other man started walking away again. “Mycroft.”

Greg had uttered the name so softly, so gently, that Mycroft sighed. “Talk to me, Mycroft.”

“It’s in relation to work, Gregory. I cannot. That meeting was quite problematic in its own right. I don’t want to trouble you. Come on. Let’s keep walking. This park is beautiful, especially at night.” Mycroft said, dragging the other man along the pavement once more. Greg shook his head and quickened his pace to be at his side again.

“I can think of something more beautiful.” Greg said, nudging Mycroft. The man’s cheeks flushed pink and he bit his lip to conceal a smile.

“Nonsense.” Mycroft said with a shake of the head. Then, as he came to a fork in the sidewalk, he stopped walking again. Greg stood there beside him, their arms still hooked together.

“Hmm, decisions, decisions.” Greg said with a chuckle. Mycroft nodded to him.

“Quite so. I have made a different decision though.” And he turned to face Greg, unlinking their arms so he could hold both of his hands. He leaned forward to quickly peck him on the lips, then took off down the right fork of the path. Greg furrowed his brow. So now Mycroft was doing that to him too. Leaving him wanting more. He wasn’t surprised. And damn it, did he want more. Mycroft tasted absolutely exquisite, and Greg never tired of his lips on his.


Their starlit walk continued through the park, coming to an old military memorial with a wall of names, a jet, and a tank.

“Fascinating…” Mycroft said, glancing over at Greg before he let go of his hand and with childlike eagerness, actually ran over to the tank to get a closer look.

Greg’s brow creased in confusion, his interest piqued by this strange behavior. “Myc, what are you doing?”

But the other man didn’t respond. He was too busy reading the plaque next to the military vehicle. Once he had finished that, he brushed his pale, slender fingers against the tracks of the tank, his hand running over the bumps of the chain as he did so. He wandered all the way around the tank to the back of it, smiling to himself. Greg had never seen his face so lit up and excited about something like this before.

He liked how adorable Mycroft looked this way. “Mycroft?”

The other man finally turned to face Greg. “My apologies. I am a rather avid fan of history and weapons of the past. In fact, I have a rather moderate armory in my house. Perhaps I can give you a tour sometime.” Mycroft’s lips twitched into a smile. Greg returned it, beaming at his boyfriend. “Normally I never let anyone see it, but you’re the exception to every rule, my dear Gregory.”

“I have been racking my brain trying to figure out what else you liked besides silent films, and now I learn it’s weapons.” Greg said, enjoying that he was learning more about the mysterious man he’d chosen to fall for.

“Not weapons generally. Just historical weapons. And any literature on the nature of military stratagems, historical battles, et cetera. If I hadn’t gone into politics and government work, I would have loved to study history…” Mycroft said all of this whilst further admiring the tank, and Greg took special opportunity to admire this rare side of his boyfriend. He stepped a bit closer, watching Mycroft’s fascination, fascinated himself.

The next thing Mycroft knew, he was being gently pressed against the side of the tank. His eyes widened as Greg shoved him back against the tracks. “Gregory?”

“Shh, you are so beautiful like this. Even more so than usual.” As soon as Greg had said that, their lips were locked together. Mycroft fumbled to reciprocate, being taken off guard in the moment. However, his arms soon found their way around Greg. One hand caressed the man’s cheek, which was covered in a thin dusting of gorgeous silver stubble. Mycroft’s other hand wound up in the small of Greg’s back. Greg’s hands both ended up on either side of Mycroft’s face, holding him in place to get a better angle for the snog. Their fronts were pressed flush against each other, and Greg quickly pressed into Mycroft even more, deepening the kiss and the adoration they both felt for each other.

Mycroft had finally recovered enough to return the kiss properly, competing with Greg for who was actually controlling the moment. In the end, Greg won out. He kept a tight hold on Mycroft, one of his hands trailing around to end up just above his ass. His fingers clutched at the fabric there, crinkling Mycroft’s elaborate suit coat. In that moment, Mycroft did not care one damn bit about folds in his coat. He would much rather worry about the tongue sneaking across his lips, mingling with his own.

Moments later, when both of them were gasping for oxygen, they opened their eyes and looked on one another. Greg smirked at him and pulled away. Mycroft immediately went to adjust his tie, his chest rising and falling rather quickly. His heart was pounding against his ribcage, and he was yearning for more, oxygen be damned.

“Well, I never thought I would do that.” Mycroft said rather softly, his voice barely a whisper as he inhaled deeply.

“What, snog your boyfriend behind a World War II tank?” Greg said with a teasing way about him. Mycroft opened his mouth to reply, but then closed it as Greg finished his sentence. He was soon throwing his arms around Greg and kissing him again. This one was by no means as heated as the previous, but that didn’t mean it was any less affectionate toward the other man. Mycroft tugged away with a smirk of his own.

“Hmm… okay. I’m sensing a reason for that one.” Greg chuckled to himself, running a hand through his hair. Mycroft nodded to him, his arms still around the other man’s neck.

“Quite so, Gregory. I couldn’t help myself when you actually knew what kind of tank it was. And I know you didn’t read the plaque; you were too busy ogling me.” Mycroft laughed as Greg blushed in the dim light behind the tank. “But anyway, you were quite right. I never thought I would kiss anyone whilst being shoved against a tank. Life is funny like that sometimes.”

“You’re not wrong, Mycroft,” said a new voice from behind them, a baritone voice. It was a familiar tone, and one that quickly exasperated the government official. He let go of Greg and whirled around, seeking the exact location of the voice.

“Sherlock, what in the hell are you doing here?” Greg asked as the detective came out of the shadows, his long Belstaff billowing in the evening breeze. The coat collar was flipped up, of course.

Then, to make matters even more embarrassing, John stepped out from behind a tree as well. Mycroft’s face was absolutely burning, and Greg’s was no better.

“Well, Sherlock and I were tracking a murder suspect, but it seems we stumbled across something much more interesting.” John’s eyes positively glowed with mischief, and Sherlock chuckled.

“Interesting. Appalling. What difference is there in this case, really?” The sleuth gestured rather flamboyantly to the two other men.

Mycroft put a hand to his face, drawing it over his features in annoyance. “Will you two kindly leave us be? The Inspector and I are quite busy at this moment.”

Sherlock raised his brows at his brother. “John and I were here first. We’ve been scouting this park for hours.”

Mycroft glared at his little brother. “Sherlock, shut up.”

Another laugh escaped the detective, as well as the doctor beside him. “Come on Sherlock. Leave them to their fun. Let’s just hope they don’t shag here in the park. That could be awkward.”

“For God’s sake, Dr. Watson!” Mycroft said. Greg burst out laughing at his boyfriend’s reaction as John and Sherlock trailed away, Sherlock singing a very inappropriate version of “Greg and Mycroft sitting in a tree.” They could hear the boisterous laughter of the crime-solving duo as they walked off. Mycroft could not stop blushing, and refused to face Greg until he could gain a better control of his emotions.

“Mycroft, come on. That wasn’t as mortifying as you’re making it out to be.” Greg said, gently reaching for the other man’s hand. “Come on, we still have a walk to finish.”

“I have a better idea. Come back to my house. I’ll show you the armory. There’s a very comfortable Persian rug in the center of the room that would do well for a continuation of this evening’s activities.”

Tags below the cut. Let me know if you would like to be tagged or untagged. 

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the stranger things cast, according to my grandma:

finn: “he’s gonna be a little heartbreaker when he gets older, he’s so adorable.”

gaten: “i’m adopting that one, he’s precious! look at his little curls and that smile!”

noah: “oh my god, he’s so tiny! can i adopt him, too? he reminds me a little of that big-eyed guy from the wizard ring movies you used to watch all the time.” (it took me almost five minutes to realize she meant lord of the rings and i think she was referring to elijah wood)

caleb: “another future heartbreaker.”

millie: “hey, we have the same name! but she’s much more gorgeous than i was or ever will be. she looks so stylish.”

charlie: “river phoenix.”

joe: “flock of seagulls cover band front man. also looks like that guy who played the spidery man.”

natalia: “gorgeous flower child.”

david: “big burly man who i would be very interested in dating.”

winona: “isn’t she the woman you’re in love with?”

Imagine Michael being your soulmate

Word count: 675

Pairing: Michael x Reader

Request by: @ishipmichifer

A/N: This is the first Michael imagine I’ve ever done and I barely know much about character so sorry if it isn’t that good! <3

“Ghost?” you asked with hope.

“It’s not affected by iron,” Sam replied continuing to flick through endless pages of paper.

It was almost 2 in the morning, neither Sam, Dean or I have found anything about the case and the frustration within the motel room was slowly building.

You let out a long sigh as you closed another useless book. Noticing the tension within the room, you decided to grab some beers from the impala in an attempt to relax everyone.

The research felt like it was taking days to complete and we couldn’t hunt whatever it was until we knew for sure how to kill it.

Shutting the trunk of the Impala, you made your way back to the motel room with beers in your hand. As you neared the motel door, you slowed down. An eerie feeling filled your body, something wasn’t right. Your suspicions were confirmed when Deans voice loudly came from behind the door: “Who are you?” he shouted.

You reached down to your hips, hand hovering over the gun which laid there as you cautiously pushed open the door preparing for what was on the other side.

Although you were completely calm and ready, nothing could prepare you for what you saw.

Beautiful, white wings stretched across almost the entire motel room leading to a gorgeous black haired man (or angel you assumed). Instantly you felt a connection to the angel and dropped your hand away from your gun becoming enticed in his beauty.

“I… er..” you stuttered trying to form words.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Sam seemed to notice your shocked expression, Dean on the other hand, still had his gun pointed at the man who had just appeared in their room.

“You can’t see them?” you replied not taking your eyes off of the wings.

“You can see my wings?” his soft voice filled your ears as he slowly walked his way closer to you.

Dean quickly stepped in-between you two like a protective brother. “I’ll ask again, who are you?”

“I am Michael; I came to persuade Dean to let me use him as a vessel before Lucifer finds Sam yet I appear to have found my soulmate.” He locks eyes with you from behind Dean.

Even though you had just met him, you felt as if you had spent a thousand years with Michael. Ignoring his protests not to, you made your way from behind Dean and slowly made your way up to Michael, not losing eye contact.

He placed his hands down on your hips and whispered into your ear, “your soul is beautiful.”

“As are your wings,” you replied wrapping your arms around him.

Five years later

“Five years today we met,” Michael appeared behind you on the balcony of your house as you looked out to sea. His arms sneaked around your waist from behind as you leaned into his chest.

You hummed in agreement wanting to live in this moment forever.

He spun you around so you were facing each other and placed a quick kiss on your lips. His wings were slightly open meaning he was nervous.

“Y/N,” his voice was barely audible as he grabbed your hands into his, “ever since the moment I laid eyes on you I was instantly in love. When I think of the future, I can’t imagine anyone by my side but you. I love you far more than any words could ever explain,” he got down on one knee and you covered your mouth in shock as you realised what was happening, “Y/N, will you marry me?”

“Yes, oh my god yes!” you managed to form the sentence as tears of joy flowed from your eyes.

Michael stood up slipping the most gorgeous silver wring on your hand. He cupped your face smiling as he pulled you into a passionate, love filled kiss which lasted, for what felt like, an eternity.

“Michael. I love you.” You snaked your hands around his back hoping you could hold onto him forever.

“I love you too Y/N.”

Are You Ready?

Happy Sunday!  Here, have some wank!lock smut to celebrate. 

I wrote this in a somewhat belated attempt to add some wank!lock to the Sherlolly/Loo tags, to help drown out the other kind of wank.  I’ll be posting this to Ao3 and around the 24th, so consider this a Tumblr exclusive until then.  (PS - Thanks to @lilsherlockian1975 for giving this a read through for me.)

Are You Ready?

Six months.

Six months since that phone call.

Six months since she and Sherlock sat down and had a very long, very emotional conversation about their feelings for one another.

Six months since they decided to give being in a relationship a go.

It hadn’t been easy, but Molly had never expected it to be.  

He got distracted by cases and would forget they had agreed to spend the evening together, which would have been annoying but understandable (she was well familiar with the idiosyncrasies of the man she’d fallen in love with, after all) if he would only remember to call her when he wasn’t going to show up.  Molly had been left waiting at a restaurant or museum several times over the first four months of dating.  He always made an effort to apologize when he realized what he’d done, and it only ever happened when the case was time sensitive or someone’s life was at stake. Twice, she had gone to Barts as soon as John called to tell her they were there and offered her assistance at the lab.  A missing child and a poisoned heiress were much more important than dinner at Angelo’s. Eventually she’d learned to text Sherlock to make sure he wasn’t on a case before she bothered to get ready for a date.

After all these years, it was still a little odd to think of herself as Sherlock’s girlfriend—for want of a better word. Lover certainly didn’t fit because it had been six months since their first “I love you” and they hadn’t progressed past passionate kisses and desperate, over the clothing, above the waist fondling.

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anonymous asked:

I kind of noticed how some people are just negative and say things that can only support there arguments in order to make a character look down and not really saying all the positive things Marvel has done for Lorna. I think I know what you mean about "people" They just want Magneto to be the only one who's good enough.

I’m glad people are beginning to wake the fuck up (please excuse my language). One thing for sure is that Polaris is more than an alluring personality. I always get the impression that the people here (and few other sites) who hate Polaris hate it solely because it’s Magneto’s only daughter and the only Mistress. My guess would be people fear that Polaris is slowly going to acquire Magneto’s place and we are seeing this right now. I don’t see why “hate” or better yet, envy because she actually does have her moments. She has a fun personality. She is considered quite beautiful with green eyes and emerald, cascading hair. People are so mean that someone even offered Marvel $1 for the rights to Polaris and her abilities (And this person is considered a “valuable fan” of this particular character so called, Lorna Dane. People who act like they’re “fans” but then you see them downgrading her all the time and everywhere they go) lol.

Polaris was Created by Arnold Drake, Don Heck, Werner Roth and Jim Steranko, 4 awesome writer and artists Marvel legends. Polaris first appeared in The X-Men #49 (October, 1968). So I’m sure Polaris is extremely more valuable than just a $1 especially that she’s Magneto’s daughter. Marvel wouldn’t give her away. Marvel wouldn’t even kill this character for god’s sake. There are reasons to be impressed that Lorna is still in comic books today. Marvel knows she’s a powerfully and mysteriously attractive female. No one can deny that Lorna is fascinating, seductive, and, of course, often extremely GORGEOUS. She’s a very valuable character and she cost more than what we think. She was one of the first X-Men to be introduced as the Queen of Mutants and still is. And don’t forget one of Polaris’s most iconic images, the cover of X-Men #50, which also happened to be the first time that famous X-Men logo was ever used :)

So yeah, I can see the hate.

It’s Hard

Originally posted by jeonsshi

You knew that it was hard for him.

He had to be the happy one, the eternal ray of sunshine. Because of that label on the rare occasion that he stepped out without a smile on his face, he was hounded with questions and comments. You knew that it must’ve been hard to be branded with the name ‘Hope,’ to be the face of such an emotion especially in his line of work, but you applauded him for the struggle and sacrifices he ultimately made because of that name.

You knew that it must’ve been annoying for him.

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ACCIDENTS (Bellamy Blake x Reader)

Originally posted by dailybellamyblake

Request: You walk in on Octavia’s hot older brother jerking off


The Blake house can be described in two words: big and clean. You can’t help but focus on the shiny, white tiles beneath your socks - upon seeing the pristine floors, you took off your shoes in fear of dirtying it. Opening your phone, you read the message from your best friend telling you that her bus is running late. She had let you in on the family secret of where the spare key is kept and you had let yourself inside the nice-smelling house. Now, you stare at the ground wondering if you look closely enough, you’ll be able to see your own reflection in the tiles. But there was only one thing wrong. Octavia never told you which room was hers. 

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edwardelricistheawesomeness  asked:

What about Eren or Levi having Hetrochromia? And being really either ashamed or embarrassed about it. But they finally tell the other and they just stare in awe at these eyes that are perfect for them.

Eren had never liked his eyes, one gold and the other green, his mother had always told him they were beautiful, the world begged to differ. He was always teased for the odd colors, some even going as far as telling him to just cut one out so he`d be normal. For Eren`s sake, he was allowed to get contacts, much to his mother`s dismay, he didn`t even get them to match one of his eyes colors, instead going with a dull, common brown color.

And he`s kept this up for almost his whole life, it was second nature to pop in the lenses every morning and cover up. So when he`d started dating Levi, a gorgeous raven with pretty light brown eyes, he never showed him how his irises really looked. 

But it was getting difficult, Levi and he had ended up becoming more serious than he`d anticipated, now it was like they were living together with how many items of theirs ended up in the other`s home. He spent his nights with him, went almost everywhere with him, so it was bound to happen one day, that he wouldn`t be able to wake before him to quickly replace his contacts.

When Eren sleepily fluttered his eyes open, his heart dropped at the sight of Levi stroking his face above him, looking right into his eyes as his own went ridiculously wide.


“Fuck.” Eren cursed, shoving himself under the blankets. Perhaps Levi would think it was a trick of the light and leave it be, but despite being so small, Levi easily yanked the duvet away from him, though he kept his eyes shut tight.

“Eren.” Levi called,

“I know, I know, it`s weird. I didn`t want you to know.”

“Eren look.”

Eren dared peek his eyes open slowly to meet Levi presumably disgusted gaze, instead he was met with a light silver and dazzling icy blue.

“Levi you…”

“Me too, I just, I never thought you had… I thought I was the only one.”

Eren couldn`t stop staring.

“They`re creepy aren`t they?” Levi mumbled.

“What? No they`re gorgeous! Why would you-”

“The same reason you would. You look amazing Eren.”

He had a point.

“So do you.” Eren whispered as he closed the gaps between their lips. That morning was the first time they`d ever made love while looking into each others eyes, their real eyes, and it was pure bliss.

anonymous asked:

ok u must get this a lot but what are your favorite books with queer protags???


- Grasshopper Jungle by Andrew Smith – teenage boy explores his bisexuality as he wrestles with his guilt over a) having feelings for both his best friend and his girlfriend and b) accidentally starting the apocalypse-by-giant-preying-mantis. (literally my favourite book.) 

- The Vintner’s Luck by Elizabeth Knox – grumpy vintner bumps into an angel one night when he’s pickled and wandering around the vineyard, and winds up making a date to meet once a year, on the same night, forever. you will probably cry yourself to sleep afterwards. 

- As Meat Loves Salt by Maria McCann – sociopathic romp through Civil War era England accompanied by THE WORLD’S SLOWEST BURN and MURDER. even if you’ve been an English Civil War nerd for 15 years before reading this book, this book will forever be the first thing you think of when you think of the English Civil War. a scourge. 

- Tipping the Velvet by Sarah Waters – cute girl leaves home and becomes a music hall male impersonator. lesbian shenanigans by the barrowful follow. set in Victorian London and actually has a happy ending! yay! 

- Running With Scissors by Augusten Burroughs – a memoir documenting Augusten Burroughs’ teenage years living with his mother’s psychiatrist and his madcap family. I took this in stride when I first read this book at the tender age of 14, but now it gives me PALPITATIONS and a BURNING URGE to ring Esther Rantzen. 

- Call Me By Your Name by Andrew Aciman – THE PEACH BOOK!

- The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller – I love this book so much I have to forcibly stop myself from buying a copy every time I see one in a secondhand bookshop. you go into it thinking you’ll be FINE because everyone KNOWS what happens to Patroclus, it’s not like you WON’T SEE IT COMING… and yet. no one is ever fine. 

- Maurice by E. M. Forster – astounding and wonderful book that was, surprisingly, written in 1912. there’s sex, it’s a happy ending, it has something very snotty to say about British attitudes towards homosexuality – it’s a joy. plus, the Merchant Ivory film version is full of totty. (yes, that’s Rupert Graves. you see him starkers. just saying.) 

- Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe by Benjamin Alire Saenz – two Latinx boys falling in love. I read the entire thing in one sitting. it’s won so many awards you can barely see the cover art. deserves all the accolades and love, as it is HEARTBREAKINGLY GORGEOUS.

- More Than This by Patrick Ness – there is absolutely no way to explain this book without spoiling everything about it, so here’s the bare bones: Seth drowns, and then wakes up, alive, but completely and utterly alone. I had to put it down and go for stress walks at least 3 times. so good. 

- The Charioteer by Mary Renault – a soldier wounded in the evacuation of Dunkirk recuperates in hospital and tries to choose between two dudes: a young and innocent conscientious objector and a saucy and experienced naval officer. can I get a HAIL MARY? 

Perfectly Imperfect

Pairing: Jikook

Length: oneshot, 4k

Description: Jimin was always a romantic, believing in love at first sight and perfect little fairy-tale endings. He’d met Jungkook on a trip to Busan, the final summer trip before his junior year of college started and he could’ve sworn he fell in love with the doe-eyed boy the moment their eyes met.


The time when Jungkook and Jimin had their first time after months of a summer love they never wanted to end. 

Crossposted on AO3!

For my hoe, my sweet cheeks @mintsugakookies!!!! I larva you!!! Here’s the first time fic you requested and I’m sorry I took ages on this. BUT it’s 4k so I think that makes up for the long wait? Hopefully? Anyways, my love, I think I filled every request you had for this. Also, I added a little surprise at the end because I couldn’t resist. 

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Halite with Nahcolite

Okay, halite is salt, but for one thing, it is just as legitimate a mineral as any other, even if you CAN eat it (not this though - it contains bacteria so don’t lick it!). This batch of gorgeous halite specimens was mined last year in California, and they are REALLY distinctive. Look at the amazingly fine structure of the crystals (to 2.3 cm) and beautiful bright pink color! But more than that, they have this wonderful contrast with a uniquely new matrix covered with minute nahcolite.

Locality:  Searles Lake, San Bernardino Co., California, USA


Originally posted by comnderleksa

Request:  First of all I adore your writing it’s honestly really good <3 Can you maybe do an Imagine where the reader is a part of the 100 and always cares for everyone and makes sure no one does something stupid but she suddenly disappears and the 100 are searching for her?

Word Count: 1,709

           “Y/n, you should go get some sleep.” You jumped at the sound of Kane’s voice. You were slaving over a microscope slide, studying the effects of the Earth’s potential radiation on the Sky People’s cells. The work was important to the future of your people, but it was taking so much of your time.

           Kane, who was like a father to you, stood over you and eyed you with worry and love. His eyes were tired and his hair disheveled. Apparently he had fallen asleep, too.

           “Yeah you’re right. See you in the morning.” You yawned and exited the medical tent to get to your tent. You shared a tent with Clarke and Raven, your two best girl friends from the Ark. Raven was at a fire hanging with friends and Clarke was on guard duty per usual. So you had the tent all too yourself. You lay in bed and looked at the ceiling until sleep came. Before you slept, you thought about the 100 and your time on Earth. You could confidently say that everyone here loved you and the things you did for them. After Clarke became leader, she couldn’t handle working in the medical unit as much, so you stepped up. You invented medicines, treatments, and completed vital research. You saved Bellamy and Murphy once after a hunting trip went wrong, with an herbal concoction that packed wounds. Ever since, the Sky People looked at you like they would a superhero. You drifted to sleep with a smile on your face. Life on the ground, while hard, was not bad at all.

You woke with a start. The room was dark and the floor was cold and wet. Freezing cold water droplets fell on your face. You tried to move, only to discover that your hands were tied behind your back and your legs were bound to an object you couldn’t see. Your throat hurt like you had been choked and your head was pounding almost as loudly as your heart. ‘Where am I?’ You thought. You were shaking to the point that your bones physically hurt, but you couldn’t stop.  

           A door opened at the front of the cell and a tall, buff figure walked in. He threw a turkey leg at you, grunted, and headed back to the door. “H-hey, where am I?” You asked, your voice wavering. He turned to face you.

           “Blood will have blood.” He hissed and slammed the cell door; darkness enveloping you again.

The Sky People started their day normally. Everyone woke up, went to breakfast, and then went to their jobs. Raven went to the engineering lab, Clarke to her post at the fence, Bellamy to the forest to hunt for dinner, etc. It wasn’t until Kane and Abby made their way to the medical unit that something seemed off.

           “Where’s Y/n?” Abby asked.

           “I sent her to bed last night, haven’t seen her since…she’s always here on time.” Kane replied while raising an eyebrow. He exited the tent and went next door to the lab where Raven was working.

           “Raven, have you seen Y/n?” Kane questioned.

           “I saw her go to bed. I ended up in another tent so I didn’t see her after that. Why?”

           He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “She’s not at the med lab. I don’t remember seeing her at breakfast either.”

           “Ask Clarke or Bell, they might know. I’ll go check the tent.”

           Kane, Abby, and Raven walked out into the camp determinedly. Raven went one way while Kane and Abby went toward the gate. “Clarke!” Abby shouted to get her attention, “Have you seen Y/n? She’s not at work.”

           She shook her head no. “I haven’t seen her since dinner. I was on guard until late last night. When I went to bed I just slept in Jasper’s tent because it was closest to me and I was too tired to walk.”

           Abby started to worry, and that anxiety only escalated when Raven came back. Y/n wasn’t in her tent, but some stuff had been thrown on the floor, almost like there had been a struggle.

           “She couldn’t have been taken by someone. Everyone here likes her, and unless someone miraculously snuck in…” Clarke started after reading the expression on Abby and Kane’s face.

           “Who was on guard last night after you went to bed?” Kane asked. He still feared the worst.

           “Murphy…Kane I don’t think he did anything to her if that’s what you’re thinking. They’re good friends.” Kane power walked to Murphy’s tent and threw the front flap open. Murphy jumped.

           “What the hell, Kane?” Murphy yelled.

           “Have you seen Y/n?” Kane sneered losing his patience.

           “No, I haven’t. I was on guard all last night.”

           “Yeah, I know. We’ve got one of our people missing because someone took her from the camp while you were on duty. Did you see anything last night?”

           “Uh I mean I saw someone, or thought, I saw someone in the woods. I followed them but they disappeared and I assumed it was an animal since they got away so fast. Wait, Y/n’s missing?”

           Kane stormed out of the tent and back to Clarke and Bellamy. “Get a team together,” Kane ordered, “Someone’s taken Y/n.”

An hour later, a search group made up of Clarke, Bellamy, Murphy, Raven, Jasper, and Kane was ready to go. Abby and Octavia stayed behind in case you came back. They were equipped with guns and knives, some food, and some of the medicine you made.

           “Who would have taken her? She hasn’t got any enemies does she?” Raven sighed. She originally wasn’t going to come because of her leg, but she felt so much responsibility for your disappearance that she had to come. They all felt responsible, but Murphy did especially. Bellamy, who was close to you in a way that Raven and Clarke didn’t understand, definitely made sure Murphy felt as guilty as possible.

           “Well, if Murphy was actually doing his job, this wouldn’t have happened.” Bellamy snapped. Murphy turned to face him and threw a punch at his face, but Bellamy caught it with his fist.

           “Bellamy, if you make one more snide comment, I’m going to punch you,” Clarke snapped. “Everyone’s on edge. Yes, one of our own was taken from inside our camp, but that does not mean it was Murphy’s fault. You know just as well as me that the fence has faults. Someone could have used those faults to their advantage.”

           “The Grounders…” Bellamy whispered.

           “What?” The others said.

           “Blood will have blood…Murphy, our last hunting trip…”

           A week ago, on that hunting trip turned wrong, Bellamy and Murphy ran into a Grounder who tried to kill them and take the meat they had gotten. They didn’t mean to kill her, but she was threatening them, and they had to protect themselves and their people. That’s all anyone on Earth was trying to do anymore: protect their people and no one else. But their rash decision may have lead to the Grounders taking you. Once Bellamy made the connection that his actions led to this, he backed off Murphy.

           “I guess where we need to go.” Kane said. No one spoke the rest of the trip.

The man from before opened the cell door again, and stomped over to your body. He picked you off the floor by the chains around your hands. You cried out in pain, and he laughed. He pushed you forward, out into the hall, and to the room he has taken you to so many times. They tortured you so often that it felt like you had been there for weeks, when it really had only been days.

           He put you on the slab, cuffed your hands above your head, and pulled tightly. A seemingly gorgeous woman walked in, her long brown hair covering her eyes. She was no taller than 5’7” and very skinny, but she somehow was the leader of these people. She was the one who has been torturing you this whole time. She kept talking about a girl that the Sky People killed and that you were being used as revenge.

           “Are you going to ask me questions about things I don’t know some more? Because if so, you’re wasting your time.” You snarled, knowing you were going to regret that comment later.

           “I can see you still have your sense of sarcastic humor. That is a dangerous, dangerous thing to have in this place, especially in the position you’re in.” You stared back completely emotionless. She laughed. “We have been nothing but kind to your people. They killed one of ours, so it’s time to pay back the blood they’ve spilled.” She held up a large knife coated in a sort of substance.

           “Why me though?” You asked, trying so hard to keep a tough demeanor.

           “Everyone there likes you. Maybe it’ll finally teach the Sky People to stay out of our way.”

           “Don’t you think killing me will make everything worse?”

           “A risk I’m willing to take.” She looked into your eyes and placed a hand on your cheek before digging the knife into your stomach. Immediately, darkness clouded your vision and blood rushed down your stomach and legs.

           There was a bang behind the woman digging the knife into you and someone shouted your name. You couldn’t see anything so you weren’t sure what was going on. You felt your hands fall to your sides as someone uncuffed them and felt warm arms wrap around you.

           “It’s going to be alright, Y/n,” Someone said. You couldn’t place the source of the voice, “Stay awake, Y/n. Stay awake.”

           You fought the fog that cloudy your brain, or tried to. It wasn’t long before you drifted to sleep. When you came to, you were in the medical tent. An IV stuck out of your arm and a heart monitor softly beeped next to you. Clarke was asleep on the bed next to you and you could see Bellamy’s hair poking through the door frame. He was always keeping watch. You moved your hand to wake Clarke up. She jumped.

           “Y/n, you’re okay!”

           “Yeah, I’m okay. Sore, but okay.”

           “We’re never letting you out of our sights again.”

The Heater

this was born out of the idea that Harry and I would never be able to stop bickering over the cold and also that lingerie is strictly a warm weather luxury. 

You’d bought it on a whim a few weeks ago and you’re nearly surprised when the package finally arrives, almost completely having forgotten. LA had managed to drop 30 degrees overnight it seemed and now that pretty something waiting in your package seems less than appealing. Still, when you get back inside and see that Harry’s still preoccupied up in the attic you can’t help but try it on.

The soft baby pink lace feels like butter between your fingers as you rip away the many layers of tissue covering it. It’s a bodysuit, nipped in at the waist with a low low low dip down the center to showcase one of Harry’s favorite places to land more than a few well placed kisses on your body. It’s gorgeous, but it leaves your arms and legs tragically bare and even though it’s afternoon and the sun is still peeking out a bit you’re freezing. You hop with ice cold toes back across the tile floor to the bedroom and strip quickly out of the ensemble, pulling on leggings and Harry’s Packers jumper instead.

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“The Morning in Thebes” Ahkmenrah x reader fanfic

AN: Hello there sugarplums! - that isn’t odd right? A really lovely anon has requested a story this Monday asking me to write something with Ahkmenrah paired up with a teenage reader. I want to mention that I gave my all on this story and been researching some things so the story sounds as realistic as possible. I hope you will enjoy the fact that I have chosen Ancient Egypt as time and locations in this story. If you liked this please give it a like ;)

Title: The Morning in Thebes
Pairing: Ahkmenrah x reader
Fandom: Night at the museum, Rami Malek
Rating: mention of love making but other than that it’s alright
Word count: 707

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Thee sun began to reveal the lovely halls of the immeasurable and glorious palace in Thebes. Each hieroglyph, drawing, stone and sheet, slowly unleashed centimetre by centimetre. The most wonderful beauty in the entire kingdom was waking up. By all means, that meant that the servants had awakened, rushing through the hallways; some making royal breakfast, some making sure the bath has prepared well, sheets, dust – everything had to be completed at the early hour. But one servant was waking up somewhere she wasn’t supposed to.

Ra’s light was sort of scrolling over her face, making her body mechanically wince and hiss at the sudden red-ish and warm feeling. “I am late - ” she thought to herself before beginning to stand up. But before she could place her feet on the ground she felt a pair of two strong arms pulling her back in the bed and getting wrapped around the frame. “Nobody will know.” The owner of the arms said in a bit husky morning voice, pulling the girl’s body even closer.

So the last night really did happen. I thought it was one of those hopeless dreams I would always have about the Pharaoh. But, this one actually came true… If I recall correctly, this has lasted up until late last night, Khonsu was shining more than ever, and his moon was so full and gorgeous. Since it ended so late, no wonder I don’t have the proper strength to get up on my feet, although, I do prefer not to do that now. I mean who would miss on an opportunity to cuddle with this tremendous man.

This feeling was interrupted by a loud thug sound coming from the big wooden door at the edge of the spacious room. The pharaoh covered your body. Not that he was afraid of people finding him with company in his bed, he just didn’t knew how would people react to seeing a servant there, a servant that is usually in the charge of cooking. It was Khumnrah, bursting into his brother’s chambers and yelling out. “You better start getting ready because the breakfast will be served soon. It will be a bit late this morning because there is a servant missing, tss typical.” He said before pointing at the sundial on the window. “Don’t allow it to reach its fourth period before coming out. It would be an even bigger disgrace of having you as a brother.”

Khamunrah yelled before exiting the chambers. They’ve noticed my absence, great. You’ve thought to yourself in a sarcastic manner before peeking though the sheets. Even though you two were really young, just eighteen summers in this world existing, you two knew what love was, and you knew it was there.-  I difference from your cooking this morning .

He moved his hand gently to touch and cup your evidently blushed cheek, giving it a little caress. “Have I ever told you that your beauty matched those that Hathor describes?” You blushed even more, if possible. Slowly extending your arms up to lace them around your lover’s neck.

“You keep pampering me with your kind world my pharaoh… I will never be quite sure have I managed to express my gratitude to the fullest.” He couldn’t help but let out a little soft chuckle to your kind and modest words. Those are the things he adored about you. He also loved your patience, adorners, and willingness to explore, adapt and serve without expecting anything in return. He loved you.

But of course, it eventually the time for you to get ready and join the other servants in the preparation. After all, you cannot afford to be punished by someone that is tiny bit higher than you in the hierarchy. You slowly stood up and began gathering your clothing and getting dressed, not even giving a damn anymore that he was standing there behind you, watching your every more. Because he didn’t wanted to miss any chance to admire your frame.

With a soft peck on his nose you said your goodbyes and left the chambers. Making your way towards the food preparation rooms. Because after you, you didn’t wanted your future husband to have a bad meal in his life.