Easter holiday has arrived, meaning i got to stay in and prepare for upcoming exams 🙄
On the other hand the weather is beautiful, so i don’t mind a little biochemistry revision…. Also…. Am i the only student who grows coriander, rosemary, basil and mint in their student accommodation ?!😂

say you love me


you’re a doctor who finds bucky in an alley way, bleeding out. you help him, and get way more than you ever asked for. (based on this request.)

word count: 5.7K

pairing: bucky x reader

warnings: angst, fluff, open ending, bad writing

a/n: listen, i dont think this is good but i hope this is what ya wanted. there’s no smut in this, sorry my dudes :/ i left this ending kind of open and abrupt, so if y’all want a second part, i can write it. 

Originally posted by natpekis

masterlist | request

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Originally posted by bestpicsof5sos


Calum’s hand hesitated when it reached out for yours. His nervousness was cute and to make him feel better you grabbed his hand in return. It was only the third date and according to Calum, the appropriate time for you two to hold hands. His hands were clammy and a bit sweaty. You didn’t mind it thought knowing it was just from his nervousness. Calum couldn’t stop the grin from spreading about his face as he realized your hands fit together perfectly.


Calloused hands, thin and tattooed fingers. You had studied these hands for a year now. Fingertips tracing over the palm of his hand and memorizing were each line began and stopped. Calum had put a lot of strain on his hands. Indents on his fingers from the strings of his bass guitar. Whenever you were together, you had made it a mission to lotion his hands and massage them. Calum never mind when you would do this. Secretly liking the fact that you had an obsession with his hands. 


The hands were much tinier compared to Calum’s. Soft to touch and little as can be. He had seen babies before, but he had never seen them this small. So tiny that he was scared to hold him. The infant’s tiny hand could only wrap around Calum’s pinky finger. It had to be the most adorable thing he’s ever witnessed. Looking up at you with a look of excitement and wondering if you were seeing what he saw. You didn’t expect him to take so well to your nephew. Calum cooing at the child and admiring the tiny hands and feet. He loved it. 


Your hands were always so cold. It didn’t matter what the weather was your hands would always be freezing. Calum found it unusual how your whole body could be warm yet your hands would still be cold. This quirk about you never stopped him from holding your hands. He took comfort in the fact that only he could warm you up. Calum was your heater and you found it amusing how he would jump in shock each time you placed your cold hands on a part of his warm skin.


It was times like these that made Calum happy. Both your hands just gently playing with one another’s. Being able to touch never meant anything until Calum met you. He liked touching you, both sensually and playfully. You made him admire the little things in life and appreciate being able to experience so much. Hands were something he didn’t really account for yet he used them every single day and Calum was grateful to have his hands and hold yours at the same time.   

make my messes matter, make this chaos count

*click through to read on ao3

written by: Nai | @hiddenpolkadots

prompt: ‘I’m a robber and you’re an assassin and by pure coincidence we broke into the poor guy’s house on the same night, and I mean apart from the murder thing you seem pretty chill so you wanna get coffee later? After you’re done melting the body in the bathtub, of course’ for anonymous

word count: 2666

Bellamy has never really gone out with anyone who’s held a knife to his throat when they first meet, but hey, there’s a first time for everything.

The first time Bellamy meets Clarke Griffin, she’s pinning him to the floor with a knife to his neck, which isn’t exactly the most promising of first impressions.

Of course, he doesn’t know it’s Clarke Griffin, just like she doesn’t know he’s Bellamy Blake. That was the point of the terribly uncomfortable masks after all. If he was found out, he’d be put in jail, and Bellamy rather not find out if he can break out of Ark City prison.

All he knows is that when he tried to override Cage’s security system, he found it already shut off, and by the time he hauled himself up to the third floor study to get what he came for, he spotted a figure clad in an all black getup, just like his, peeking through a crack in the door. It’s about as suspicious as one can be, especially when the moonlight glints off the handle of what seems to be a gun for half a second.

Most people would wait until it’s clear before slipping in, or maybe even use the element of surprise to get one over on the other person. Instead, Bellamy silently slips in through the window, the sound of his feet hitting the floor muffled by the carpet, and he leans against the wall.

“Nice night, isn’t it?” he says airily, and the figure jumps, spinning around, just as he expected.

What he doesn’t expect are actual throwing knives being flung his way a second later because really. Who the fuck expects that?

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Etched In Ink- An Ivar Imagine

So this is what I wrote yesterday instead of attending to my responsibilities. I’ve been wanting to write this idea for a while, hope you enjoy!

TW: blood, knife play, tattooing with a needle

“Are you sure about this?”

Ivar rolls his eyes, spreading out his tools on the long, well worn table. “I have told you already, woman, I’ve seen it done many times. It does not appear all that difficult.”

You fidget nervously with the neckline of your dress, watching your lover wipe down a very long and very sharp needle. You shiver.

“Yes, but you’ve never actually done it before,” you point out, your voice laced with anxiety. “What if you make a mistake? What if you tap too hard and accidentally kill me? What if-”

Ivar cuts you off with a soft growl. “You said you wanted a tattoo. I said I wanted to be the one to give it to you. Here we are. Are you going to get up on the table or not?”

He gives you a hard look, his beautiful blue eyes burning into your skin. You sigh. You do really want a tattoo. And you trust your body with your lover implicitly. He has taken perfect and reverent care of it since you first offered it to him. So you cross the room and climb up onto the table.

“That’s my good, sweet girl,” he praises you as you lie down. He glides a hand over your face and down your neck, touch light as a feather. You can feel the familiar flush creep up your body as he expertly unties the front laces of your dress. He pushes the fabric down to reveal the skin right over your heart. One calloused finger circles the area, brushing over the top of your left breast teasingly. Shivers shoot down your spine.

“Are you going to tattoo me, or just grope me?” You ask, your voice coming out more breathy that it should. He chuckles darkly, hand covering your breast and squeezing roughly. You shoot him a glare, even though you are half tempted to forget the tattooing and make him put his hand in other places.

“What is if that you want? You never did say,” He asks, removing his hand to prepare the needle.

“A Vegvisir,” you say, and watch as his brow furrows in confusion.

“You want a compass?”

“Yes,” you nod, firm in your decision. “And I will tell you why after this infernal process is over.”

He shrugs. “Whatever you wish.” He looks at the patch of skin again. “I think I will have to lay out a pattern first, so I have something to work off of.” He reaches down to his belt and pulls out his knife. “I will just carve it lightly into your skin with this.” A smirk blooms across his face. “This at least you are well acquainted with.”

Are you ever. Ivar loves to use his knife on you when you are alone and nestled under the furs. He also loves to have it used on him in return. It’s not something you would have foreseen yourself enjoying, but Ivar has a way of drawing out the deepest and darkest parts of you and twisting them to your mutual pleasure.

“Hold still, sweet girl,” he places the blade against your skin, the coolness of the metal familiar and a little thrilling. You wince slightly as he makes the first shallow cut, his brows drawn together in concentration.

“You know, you may have to be more careful with the marks you leave on me,” you try your best to keep perfectly still. “Yesterday the new slave girl who helped me bathe asked if I’d been bitten by a wild animal.”

He continues working but his face splits into a feral grin, no doubt picturing the very red and fresh bite mark he’d left on your inner right thigh the other night. “What did you tell her?”

It’s your turn to grin. “I said yes.”

That makes him bark out a laugh, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners in the way you love. “Naughty thing,” he teases.

It doesn’t take him long to carve out the design. Before you know it he is putting down his knife and leaning forward to press his face into your chest. You suck in a breath, waiting for what you know is coming. Ivar does not wipe away blood. At least not with his hands.

The first stroke of his velvety tongue has you sighing in bliss. The warmth and wet feels wonderful on the sting of the shallow cuts. He licks in long, slow strokes, pausing every once and a while to let out a soft groan of pleasure. You melt to a languid liquid under his ministrations, your bones becoming soft and pliant and ready to bend to his complete will.

He pulls back all too soon, licking his lips like a cat who ate the cream. You watch the last of your crimson blood disappear into his mouth, unable to help but squirm as heat creeps up your spine. Ivar notices, and chides you gently with a wicked smile.

“Not yet, sweet girl,” he coos, picking up the ink and the dye. “Afterwards, if you are very good and keep very still, I will reward you. Now, I must get to work, or we will be here all night.”

You huff in frustration but attempt to calm your body. After all, you do really want this tattoo. You can be patient.

You watch him place the ready needle against your skin. A stab of fear runs trough you. It’s silly really, you’ve had his blade on you more time than you can count and you’ve never felt anything but excitement. This shouldn’t be much different. Except if he makes a mistake, you’ll have to walk around with it on your body for the rest of your life.

Ivar does not coddle you as he senses your fear, however. He simply gives you a broad wink, and taps the needle into your skin.

It hurts, but not as much as you thought it would. It feels like being stabbed with a million little tiny knives, over and over again. Painful, but not unbearable. You decide to focus on Ivar’s face, letting your eyes linger on every handsome feature. The stormy blue eyes, the sharp cheekbones, the soft, pouty lips, the strong jaw. A face you have come to love more dearly than you could have even imagined. You think of the meaning of the ink he is currently etching in to your skin and you feel your heart swell. You hope he will like the symbolism of your tattoo.

You lie on the table for what feels like forever. Ivar barely says anything, his face a mask of concentration. You’d given up trying to talk to him after he’d snapped at you to shut up and let him work. You have tried your best to keep still but you find yourself squirming more than once. Each time, Ivar had hissed through his teeth and you had quickly stilled. But you’d been here for ages. If you were on this table much longer, you’d go mad.

“There,” Ivar says finally, pulling away and removing the needle from your skin. “I think I am finished.”

“How does it look?” You ask anxiously, craning your neck to try to get a glimpse of the ink now permenantly a part of you. Ivar reaches behind him and produces a piece of reflective glass Bjorn had procured on his latest Mediterranean raid. You sit up slowly, wincing at the ache in your chest.

“See for yourself,” he hands you the glass, a self satisfied look on his face. You take it from him, taking a deep breath before looking. You let out a surprised gasp.

It’s beautiful. Pure, midnight black lines, perfectly etched. The shape is even, everything is in its proper place. You smile as you admire it. You had to say, your lover had done an amazing job.

“I love it,” you turn your gaze to Ivar, who gives you a genuine smile in return. “Thank you, Ivar. It’s beautiful.”

“I told you it would be fine,” he takes the reflective glass from you, putting it back where he took it from. “Now will you tell me why you chose a Vegvisir?”

You reach out and take his broad hand. It completely envelops yours, strong, deft fingers covering your own.

“A Vegvisir is a compass, a magical symbol made to help one find their way through rough weather,” you squeeze his hand, suddenly feeling nervous. “You are my compass, my guide through the rough weather. When I touch or see this tattoo, I will be reminded that though life will have storms, as long as I have you, I can get through them.”

You meet his eyes, and the honest surprise and almost child-like hope in them make your heart ache. You have told Ivar you love him before, but from the way he is looking at you now it seems like there was a part of him that never really believed you. Now, with your love for him permanently on your body, he maybe can finally understand and accept the depth of your emotions.

“I am your compass, your way through the storm,” he breathes, his other hand reaching out to gently brush the tender inked area. “I am on your body, in ink and blood.”

You bring the hand holding your own to your lips, kissing his weathered knuckles. “Yes, Ivar. For always.”

His hands are then cradling your face, his breath fanning across your skin as he leans in.

“My sweet girl,” he sighs, “do you even know how perfect you are?”

And then his mouth is devouring yours, tongue hot against your own as he kisses you like a man starving for it. You kiss back eagerly, though with you on the table and him seated beside it’s an awkward angle. But you do not care. You can only think, feel, and taste Ivar. He invades every one of your senses, sinking into your very flesh like the midnight ink shining on your chest. Every fibre of your being cries out for him, and you find yourself whimpering desperately against his lips.

He pulls away, his face once again in the array of arrogant confidence you are used to. “Such a good girl you were under the needle,” he purrs, and you whimper again as his hands slide down to your waist. “You stayed very still for me. I think my sweet girl deserves her reward now, don’t you?”

You can only nod, following his impatient hands as he tugs you off the table and on to his lap. His hungry mouth finds your neck, sucking greedily at the tender flesh. You wriggle against him, the ache from the tattoo being replaced with an ache of a totally different kind.

“Suppose I should get a tattoo for you now,” he groans into your neck as you dig your nails harshly into his shoulders. “Maybe you could even give it to me. Odin above, the thought of you pushing a sharp needle through my skin over and over…” he breaks off with a violent shudder.

You smirk, reaching for his knife still laying upon the table. “Why don’t you let me practice then?” You run the tip of the blade over the shell of his ear, delighting in the animalistic growl that tears from his throat.

“I am supposed to be rewarding you,” his teeth nip harshly at your pulse point. You grab a hold of his luscious hair and pull his head back so you can look into his lust glazed eyes. You trace his parted lips with the knife, and his eyes go almost completely black.

“Oh honey,” you coo, excitement and lust and passion boiling hotly in your veins, “to have you in any way is a reward to me. Now be a good boy and beg.”

Another feral growl, and his hands tighten eagerly on your waist. His head bows slightly, his eyes look down at the floor. He says nothing, but the beginning of his submission has started. It’s rare he lets you take the reins, and you feel like your need for him is about to burst out of your skin.

You grin, your new tattoo throbbing in time with your racing pulse.

This was going to be one hell of a good reward.

Happy Monday, sister wives! ❤️❤️

the old brand new feeling (frank castle)

Originally posted by jesbakescookies

(aaaa i love frank so much he is literally my all time fave sooo….expect lots of unprompted frank, honestly :’o let’s get to it!)

(warnings: mentions of knives, mentions of violence, but no completed acts, attempted (but failed) mugging, mentions of food, mentions of homelessness, cute frank castle moments)

i feel like taking chances/ i feel a lot like seventeen/ you take me right back to when we were kids/ never thought i’d feel like this

(brand new- ben rector)

Frank Castle hasn’t been on a real date since the last time Hell’s Kitchen had a drive-in movie theatre. That was approximately a decade ago, if his math is right, but Christ only knows he isn’t great with numbers. Or dates. His general perception of time has begun to edge out of sync with reality, in all honesty.

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Extended Visit

Request: sebastian x reader, he’s been with his girlfriend for about a year and they wanna go to romania.the reader is hungarian, her family lives near the romanian border… they’ve never visited them before because they live in new york together… and when they land in budapest (our capital) the flights are cancelled and they decide to drive to her city and after that go to romania… they only wanted to stay for like 2 days or what but because of the horrible weather the family doesnt let them go so they stay there for a week… but  what is interesting is that her family doesn’t speak english so its a bit complicated to communicate, not even the reader’s sister who speaks german instead of english

A/N: This one is pretty specific, but as always, you can change some things up with your imagination. Some of the dialogue is in Hungarian, some in German, so, feel free to correct me if needed. Anyways, hope you like this imagine! Also, I added something at the end which I hope you don’t mind… I can’t really say much else without spoiling it. I have a few comments about that after the imagine, read them if you want.

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Hungarian!reader

Words: 4,533

Warning: this imagine may be a bit fluff-ish

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Himchan - Day In The Office

For the first time in a long time, I present to you a scenario! I hope you all enjoy this since it was a bit challenging to get back into writing this way. Request was for a smutty Teacher!Himchan with a student. That said, I made you a college student so it’s legal.

Please enjoy and thank you for the continued support after all this time.

-Admin Em

Rated M for smut and a few swear words

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Dating Sirius Black Would Include...

Anonymous said to baby-draco: Can you do dating/sex with sirius black would include? Thanks!

  • Him always sneaking in kisses
  • distracting you as you study
  • you two would so spy on james and lily when theyre on a date
  • and they’d catch you
  • lily would laugh
  • but james would be pissed
  • but then you and sirius would go back to the dorms bc it’s cold
  • and he’d cuddle you
  • he would have to be touching you in anyway weather its holding your hand or hugging you
  • you being such a tease sometimes
  • and him being a horny fucker all the time
  • but you wouldnt give in
  • you would have contests to see who can go the longest without sex
  • you would in
  • and sirius would rip you clothes off
  • and just
  • rough sex
  • trying every sex position
  • the boys yelling at the two of you to stop
  • but then you would have quite sex
  • loud sex
  • rough sex
  • kinky sex
  • passionite sex
  • slow sex
  • quickies all the time.

Money Well Spent pt. 2

@ilikechocolatemilkh - here’s part two for you, I hope you like it! - Red_w00dy xoxo

Warning: Slight smut towards the end. 

“Auntie Y/N!” Abel yelled when you and Happy stepped out of the car, tugging on the hem of your skirt whilst gazing up at the sleeping baby that was tied to Happy’s chest in a sling. “Is Izzy old enough to come and play motorbikes with me yet?”

“I’m afraid not, little buddy, Isabella’s still only a few months old. Tell you what, why don’t you draw her one of your pictures and we’ll put it on her bedroom wall with the others?” You suggested, taking his tiny hand in yours as you reached in to take the diaper bag from inside the car, Happy grabbing hold of it once you had shut the door behind you.

“Does Isabella like princesses? I could draw Princess Izzy in a big castle with a really pretty dress like the ones you and Mommy wear,” He smiled, walking alongside you and Happy into the clubhouse where Bobby, Kozik and Gemma all sat at the bar.

“You bet she does! You go draw a picture and then when you’re done, you can give it to Izzy yourself. Sound good?” You told him, grinning when he proceeded to nod his head enthusiastically and tear off in the direction of Jax’s dorm where all of his colouring stuff was.

Happy took a seat at the bar with the others, his hand clutched protectively around the baby girl on his chest while the boys and Gemma started fussing over her. Everyone worshipped Isabella but nobody more that Happy. He was always up first to soothe her when she cried in the night, constantly had her wrapped up in a sling because he liked to keep her close and you could often find him in the nursery, fast asleep on the sofa with a gun in his hand and his head resting against the crib that was situated next to the couch. He’d embraced his role as a father like you wouldn’t believe. And Kozik took his role as Godfather even more seriously. He turned up every day with a new gift for the little girl and carried a spare pacifier in his kutte just in case Isabella started crying. All in all, she was treated like royalty by the entire club - the nickname of ‘SAMCRO princess’ that Tig had given her becoming more truthful than you could have ever imagined.

“Happy? I know you love her but you don’t have to take pictures of her every waking moment of the day. We already have two photos albums full and she’s not even ten months old yet,” You smirked when you saw Happy taking a ‘selfie’ with his daughter, his hand moving to wrap around your waist when he saw you standing next to him.

“Are you kidding, woman?” He rasped, slipping his phone back into his kutte and gazing down at the little girl that he adored, love swimming in his deep brown eyes. “She’s the most beautiful thing in the world, I want to capture every moment with her.”

“Are you sure you’re the Tacoma Killer?” You gasped, feigning confusion as Kozik leaned over and combed his calloused fingers through her soft curls affectionately. “Damn, I never thought I’d see the day that Happy Lowman would turn soft.”

“I’m not soft, woman. I’ll prove that to you later when we get back to the house,” He growled, squeezing your hip with his fingers and making you smile at the idea of what would happen later that night. Despite having a child yours and Happy’s sex life was the best it had ever been.

“I look forward to it, Killer,” You winked, moving to take Isabella from inside the sling and rest her on your hip after she woke up and started to cry, her eyes wide and filled with tears. “Hush now, little baby, it’s okay. It’s okay.”

Kozik stepped forwards, removing a purple pacifier from inside his kutte and handing it to you to stop the baby’s wailing. You slipped it between Isabella’s lips, sighing with relief when it silenced her almost instantaneously. She had the habit of crying for hours on end when she started, resulting in many sleepless nights for both you and Happy. Not that you minded of course. Isabella was both yours and Happy’s world, you were willing to sacrifice a good night’s sleep if it meant that your beautiful daughter was satisfied. The front door of the clubhouse opened to reveal Tig, Chibs and the prospects, Rat and V-Lin, all laughing as they made their way over to the bar. Tig held his arms out for Isabella, a smile spreading across his weathered features when you handed her to him and he began to bounce the little girl on his hip. For some estranged reason Isabella adored the blue eyed man, always reaching out for him whenever she saw he was in the room.

“Nice accessory, Hap. Tell me, did you find out you were gay before or after you got Y/N knocked up?” Rat joked, his grin slipping from his face after he saw Happy’s furious expression. None of the guys teased Happy for carrying the bag or wearing a sling, knowing full well what he’d do to them if they did, but clearly Rat hadn’t got the memo.

“Babe?” You said slowly, placing a hand on his arm and watching as his face visibly softened when he turned to look into your Y/E/C eyes. “Did you still want to come shopping for some new clothes with me and Gemma?”

“Yeah. I’m going to get her some decent clothes if it kills me, none of this frilly, girly shit that you insist on putting her in” He ground out, standing up and taking a giggling Isabella from Tig before placing your daughter in the black and pink pram that sat by the front door.

“You were the one that dressed her today, remember?” You pointed out, referring to the floral pink dress with matching pink Mary-Janes that Isabella was wearing. “Come on Killer, let’s get out of here before you start denying that you chose the pink wrap over the black one”

Later that night you emerged from the shower to find Happy lay on the bed, whispering to Isabella who he had resting on his chest. A small smile appeared on your face, Happy looking up momentarily to watch you move over to the dressing table in the corner of the room. You sat down on the stool and began to comb a hairbrush through your dripping Y/H/C locks, Happy’s eyes never leaving your back as he stroked the back of your daughter’s head. Eventually you swivelled in your seat to face him, your head cocking to the side in confusion as you silently questioned why he was staring at you intensely. There was a few moments of silence before either of you spoke, his lips upturning in a tight smile as he absorbed the sight of you wrapped in nothing but a towel and your hair falling over your right shoulder.

“You’re beautiful, baby girl. You know that?” He breathed, moving to place Isabella in the crib by your bed before making his way over to where you were now standing, brushing his hand across your face whilst staring into your eyes.

“What would your friends say if they knew that the infamous Tacoma Killer wasn’t such a terrifying man when he’s at home with his wife and child?” You teased, reaching up to press a soft kiss against his jaw while clutching the blue towel to your body so that it didn’t fall.

“They’d agree that having an Old Lady as beautiful as you and a daughter that resembles an angel is enough to make any man go a little soft,” He whispered, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you flush against his toned body.

You blushed, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you blinked up at him from underneath your eyelashes. “I love you so much, Happy Lowman,” You told him, placing your arms around his neck and pulling him down towards you to kiss him deeply.

“I love you too, Y/N Lowman, more than anything. I wouldn’t be the man I am today if it wasn’t for you” He replied honestly, scattering kisses along your jawline before returning back to your lips once more.

The pair of you continued to kiss passionately in the middle of the bedroom you shared, Happy leading you towards the bed where you fell backwards with him on top of you. He peppered kisses along your neck as he removed your towel, leaning backwards to take in the sight of you lying naked in front of him. He crashed his lips to yours, massaging them with his own whilst caressing your breasts and occasionally brushing his thumbs over your hard nipples. You tugged on his lower lip to gain entry into his mouth, desperate to taste him, and eliciting a deep groan from inside his chest as your tongues battled for dominance. Just as Happy pulled away to shed his clothes, Isabella cried out from inside her crib which caused you both to start laughing, slightly frustrated that you had been interrupted. Happy immediately moved to pick your daughter up as you grabbed your robe off the floor and wrapped it around you, sitting on the bed and watching as he paced the room whilst rocking the baby in an attempt to soothe her.

You couldn’t deny that life was truly perfect. You had a beautiful daughter, you were married to the best husband in the world and you were surrounded by people you love. They may be part of a motorcycle club, and sure they could be considered violent at times, but they were family and you wouldn’t change anything in your life for the world. Nothing at all.

Originally posted by redwoodyproductions

the sound of settling

date shigezane x mc (unnamed)

a/n: hello there!! thank you everyone for all the birthday wishes – AND FOR 500 FOLLOWERS I’M STILL FREAKING OUT!!! anyways, i finally managed to finish all my super important classwork and now i can get back to filling requests a bit quicker (at least until finals, which are in a couple of weeks). so, this one is for @bakers97 who wanted the cheekiest out of the Date trio, number 15 from this list - “please marry me.” @jemchew, @naerial, @pasunny, and @demon-princess-anastasia – thank you all again for your support on this blog <3

As far as the majority of people were concerned, there was at least one among the famed Date Trio that might escape bachelordom: Shigezane.

But she realized, over the time she served under Lord Masamune, that Shigezane may in fact be the least likely to settle down. Shigezane is a firecracker, sparking and lively, never settling down. He shoots through the sky and is gone before you can blink; a shooting star, a fleeting moment of brilliance that leaves you with an excited, lonely smile.

But, stubborn as she is, she had somehow found her way in. She couldn’t identify the chink in his armor that she exploited, but it was most certainly there, and she finds herself waking at his side more often than not.

There’s a fear that lingers deep in her chest, heavy like a stone: that perhaps everyone was right from the start, that Shigezane will never truly settle—that one day his fuse will burn out and he will shoot across the sky again, trailing sparks in his wake that will dance hot on her skin.

Some mornings she wakes up with a hitch in her breathing, missing him despite the fact that he lies beside her. For al her fear, however, she can only cling tighter to him—if she speaks its name, the monster will become real; she will lose him.

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Let me talk about how much I adore chubby Tord plus Tom loving up on and appreciating him.

  • Tom giving Tord belly rubs, complimenting him. Saying how beautiful he is.
  • Cute pet names… Tom calling Tord ‘Big Bear’
  • Tord gives the best cuddles, don’t @ me.
  • Tom coming up from behind while Tord is doing something and squeezes his belly, appreciating how soft it is.
  • When they’re cuddling, Tom uses Tord’s stomach as a pillow. ( The BEST pillow. )
  • Tom mentioning how he wants Tord to squeeze his head in between his thic©k thighs.
  • When they’re fucking and Tom uses this as one of the many times to call Tord “Beautiful,” “Gorgeous,” “Good boy,” “Beautiful Boy,” ETC. ETC.
  • Tord is like a big ol’ lap cat and will sit/lay on Tom’s lap, no matter where he is.
  • When it’s cold out ( Or Winter weather ) Tom sticks his hands up Tord’s hoodie to warm up…

bookgirl318  asked:

HI! I love this blog. Thank you all for doing this for fans. The stories are all absolutely wonderful My birthday is March 18th, and I would love to have a story. I love fairy tale based stories, so anything with Peeta and Katniss in that format would be a wonderful birthday gift.

Originally posted by justheronly

Wishing you the happiest of birthdays! To help you celebrate in style, the always amazing @norbertsmom has crafted this delightful Everlark story just for you! Enjoy!

The Jabberjay and the Mockingbird

Rating: T

A/N: Happy birthday! This fairy tale is loosely based on Disney’s Sleeping Beauty, with gender swaps and many other changes along the way. It’s not really a drabble, as it’s just over 6k words, oops. I hope you like it. Enjoy.

Special thanks to @mega-aulover who beta read this for me.

The Jabberjay and the Mockingbird

A long time ago in the land of Panem lived the beloved King Aurik and his beautiful Queen Emma Rae. They were fair and kind, beloved by all, but they were surrounded by sadness for they longed to have a child. And the queen’s childbearing years were coming near to an end.

Desperate to provide her husband and the kingdom with an heir, the queen crept out of bed one night after she was certain her husband was fast asleep. She looked out her bedchamber window toward the bright green star that sat low on the horizon over the Rock Mountains to the west. Legend said that the cost was high, but if you were willing to pay the price, you must wish upon the star for 7 consecutive nights for the wish to come true.  As the queen, she had great wealth, so she had the means to pay whatever the cost. She closed her eyes and whispered her plea.

The queen repeated her wish every night for seven nights straight.

When she finished reciting her wish on the seventh night the green star appeared to grow. It became so much brighter than it had been. It grew in size until the queen realized that the star was actually coming closer. The bright green light that she thought was a star flew up into the tallest tower in the castle.

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anonymous asked:

Adding to my Hal fucking you against the wall near your family, imagine sitting down for dinner. Hal sat next to you with a knowing smirk as your mother comments on how flushed you look. You try and blame the weather but Hal's hand creeping up your thigh to you pussy. Still filled with his cum he hides is smirk in his drink as you try and keep you voice level as he slowly pumps his finger in you....

Oh god yes please

Sinful Sunday™


Originally posted by zest-wincest

Pairing: Dean x reader

Titled: Feverish 

Summary: Your six year old daughter Catherine falls terribly ill. 

Word Count: 2,021

A/N: Charlotte will be 10 years old, Cassie will be 7 years old, and making Bennett 4 years old. This was inspired by a story I overheard from a friend about someone’s kiddo. 

Warnings: sickness, daddy!dean feels, minor angst and language, and tons of fluff. 

Tagging:  @sis-tafics @mysteriouslyme81 @winchesters-favorite-girl@daughters-and-winsisters @spnsisimagines @winchester-writes@thing-you-do-with-that-thing @sincerelysaraahh @ilostmyshoe-79@abaddonwithyall@winchesterwhisper @waywardsons-imagines@winchester-writes@winchesterfics@winchesterenthusiast@winchester-clique@soaringeag1e@spnfeelstrain@msimpala67@ivvitm1109 @mkay-chan@the-mrs-deanwinchester  @one-shots-supernatural@mysupernaturalfics@supernatural-jackles@bringmesomepie56@youwerelikeadream@mysteriouslyme81@zombi3gyrl07@beatlesobsessionlove@wanderer-08@madelineannmolder@feelmyroarrrr@girl-next-door-writes@oh-goodness-loki @chantillilace@mysupernaturalfics @castiels-sweet-little-grace@supernotnaturalcas@atc74 @mommaton@ilostmyshoe-79 @my–heroine@curliesallovertheplace@blacktithe7@pureawesomeness001 @little-red-83@deansbaekaz2y5@ellen-reincarnated1967 @chaos-and-the-calm67@tardis-full-of-fallen-angels@therewillbeblood @meeshw777

What you imagined a normal Monday morning for your little family, turned out to be so much more. Dean and You both got up by 6:30 in the morning, every weekday of course to get the three older girls to school. As Charlotte was in the fifth grade, Cassie in the second grade, and your youngest daughter Catherine was in her second year of school, being enrolled in the 1st grade  Bennett attended preschool today, as he only went today Wednesday. and Friday. 

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The Horror Of Pixar’s “Cars”

I will now treat you to my dark theory about the world of Pixar’s Cars. This theory is largely (OK, solely) based on the first Cars film, but it makes the sequel and its offshoots horribly sinister.

When McQueen is staying the night at the Cozy Cone, the room is essentially a garage. He’s parked on the floor like a car…

But in that same film we see a car with a mattress strapped to its roof…

And though the cars have enabled devices such as gas pumps and doors to operate without the need of thumbs. Some things are just too complex to be built with all-weather radials for hands. Who made the flags that hang at Luigi’s? The intricate figurines for sale in Lizzie’s shop? 

The answer: Humans.

Now here’s where my theory differs from other Unified Pixar Theories, which pose the possibility that the world of Cars exists in the distant future after Wall-E when technology has advanced to a point where machines have feelings, etc. In my theory, the humans that created the world of Cars STILL EXIST AS CAPTIVES!

The proof of this terrifying reality is that lone mattress. Why would a car need a mattress when we know they sleep in garage-like rooms? They don’t, but humans do. So if humans still exist to help build elaborate mechanisms of their automated overlords, Cars takes place in the NEAR future. But then where are they? Where are the people? Chained up in some kind of work camp, no doubt. The hidden missing cog that makes the world of Cars feasible.

And I’m not the only one who thinks there’s something awful going on in the Cars films. The Simpsons too it a step further…

In summation: The cars in Pixar’s Cars films keep the human race as slaves to build things for them with their opposable thumb-hands and/or eat them. And that means the cars in Cars are PURE EVIL.

The Waiter - one.
  • Chanyeol x Reader x Sehun
  • Angst - Mafia - Smut (later chapters)
  • Word Count: 1762

Description: It has been years since you felt the feeling of love from your boyfriend Sehun. You are left in a diner alone everytime he asks to meet you to make up for his absence. A handsome waiter named Chanyeol comes along to fill the void that your boyfriend left.

A/N: I have three chapters already written for this and I’ve started the fourth, but I have been thinking about rewriting some of them. One of the chapters has mention of rape(?) in a sense and I don’t know how people might react to that. Anyways, enjoy~

one. // two. // three. // four. // five. // six. // seven. // eight. (soon)

Originally posted by parkchny

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