you are not in your sixties

For Us

For the sweet @sixties-sexkitten

{3435 words}

The day had finally come. You didn’t know anymore whether to be excited or extremely anxious. The path of your future was now held in between your hands. You didn’t know whether to wait and open the envelope when your parents got home or to do it right now. Should you call Peter? The two of you had been talking about ‘the future’ for what seems like a lifetime. Did you want him to be here for when you opened and read the letter? You did. But, this was your moment, this was your future. You had to do this alone.

Okay, you were going to do this. You were going to do this right now. The sooner you read the letter the sooner you could start actually having to deal with your future. Whether that be better or for worse.

Your hands were a shaking mess. There wasn’t anyway they were strong enough right now to tear open the seal so you beelined towards where you knew the envelope opener was. Ripping the drawer open you searched frantically for the utensil. Spotting it you froze for a small moment, this small utensil would be the thing that opened you to your future. This was it. You took hold of the cold metal and placed it to one end of the envelope. Slicing through the paper, okay that was done. Now it was time to take out the piece of paper. Your fragile fingers finding the edge of paper, slowly guiding it out. Your eyes scanning through the words to find just the one, ‘accepted’.

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‘Going to Georgia?’
“I hate that song. You have to give me hundreds of dollars. I’ll play ‘Going to Georgia,’ but you have to give me cash.”
'I’ve got sixty dollars.’
'Give me sixty dollars. This is not for charity; it’s for me… This is a song that I consider misogynistic garbage. Here’s the thing - so the thing about songs that, when you’re a young songwriter, if you’re young - I must say male songwriter - you think it’s kind of romantic if your narrator would like hurt someone to prove how desperately in love he is. That’s pathetic. I don’t know any young male songwriter who doesn’t think that’s true, but it’s pathetic, right? But, as a young male songwriter in 1993, I was good at being pathetic.’
—  John Darnielle about Going to Georgia, The Second City on 2016-11-21
2

You think you know me, you little shit? I’ve been researching pokemon for the past one-hundred and sixty-five years. You don’t know shit. You think you know pokemon? You think you can out-pokemon me? I will personally see to it that your existence is ended, you thumb-twiddling little brat. I will end you. I will personally go through every entry in the pokedex to make sure you get saddled with the worst, most ill-tempered pokemon out there. And when it makes you cry, I’ll drink your tears. 

promo for @oakmd

you know what always fuckin gets me? the most haunting part of wonderland?

every moneyspot griffin thanks the viewers for spreading word about taz. they dont pay to advertise the show at all, word of mouth is the only way of letting people know, etc etc every single episode. when the other boys are there, like for the max fun drive and other occasions, they do their bit where he asks them and they respond. hey, you know how we get new listeners? word of mouth, that’s right. tell your friends!

and then theyre in-game, in wonderland. theyre on the catwalk, and lydia asks them the same question, “you know what the most successful form of advertising is?”

and all three of them, in perfect sync, right on cue, because theyve done it sixty times before: “word of mouth”.

can we please stop making the only LGBT+ narrative we see “i always knew?”

like, i didn’t always know i liked girls too. i wasn’t having crushes on them or kissing them on the playground when i was five years old like you see on tv or read in books. i didn’t know for sure that i’m bi until literally this year (i’m 17 as of writing this). a former friend of mine is a trans girl. she didn’t always know. she didn’t realize she was trans until she was nearly eighteen years old. some people don’t realize it until they’re twenty, or forty, or sixty.

some people do always know. good for them! but can we please please please make it known that you don’t have to have always known for your identity to be valid? it makes it so difficult for people who are figuring themselves out later in life, because it feeds into this idea of “why didn’t i know it before? is this even real? if i haven’t known i’ve felt this way all along, how do i know i feel it now?” and that’s only making worse what’s already such a difficult time in life

give me eighty year old women who are just figuring out they’re lesbians. give me middle aged accountants who realize they’re actually trans. give me a guy who doesn’t know until he’s twenty-eight that he’s actually into dudes. god just please give us some other narrative, so we can be reassured that even if it took us a while to get there, our identity is no less valid than that of a person who’s known they’re LGBT+ since elementary school. stop telling LGBT+ people that that’s the only way they’re really LGBT+

Presenting TRANSFORMERS ANIMATED: TRIAL AND ERROR - an original, full-length graphic novel exclusively available at TFN2017

Transmission Initiated
Transmission ID: 00024
TFNation_2017
Operation: Transformers Animated: Trial and Error

Presenting TRANSFORMERS ANIMATED: TRIAL AND ERROR - an original, full-length graphic novel exclusively available at TFN 2017!

We all lament the fact that TF Animated never got a proper ending, but the creative forces at TFN have come together to give it one!

Under Sentinel Magnus’s faltering leadership, Cybertron is a powder keg… and the trial of Megatron might just be what causes it to blow!

While Optimus Prime does what he can on the surface, Sari heads underground on a quest for her origins!

What she finds might hold the key to saving Cybertron… if she, Bulkhead, and Bumblebee can survive what lurks in the depths!

New faces & old faves meet in an original story that combines the official story hooks for season 4 into a final chapter worthy of the show!

And we DON’T say that lightly!

Co-written by noted Transformers historian @chrismcfeely & AllSpark Almanac author Jim Sorenson with SIXTY PAGES of incredible art by @EdPirrie, @Herzspalter & @GeshGav!

With luscious lettering by @andrewdturnbull & a corker of a cover by @dyemooch who’s also provided original character designs for the story!

TRIAL AND ERROR will only be available at the show in very limited quantities! DON’T miss your chance to experience the ending TFA deserves!

This sucker hits the ground running from pg 1 so there’s not a lot we can show you without spoiling - but try these sneak peeks on for size!

Further transmissions to follow.
TFNation

Where All Are One
End_transmission

Transference (M) – Chapter 06

cr. [X]

Summary: During a routine visit to the local bakery, you stumble upon an intriguing business card and figure, what the hell. The business arrangement becomes…mutually beneficial. Y’all know where this is going.

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader

Genre: Angst, Smut

Word Count: 13,167

Warning: Tantric!Hoseok, therapist/client relationship, sexual themes, BDSM, shibari, dom/sub roleplay, profanity.

A/N: This chapter is going to hurt.

Chapters: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06

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  • Pisces: Why am I not a banana?
  • Aquarius: Because your genetic code dictates you are a human. However, it should please you to know that you share fifty to sixty percent of your DNA with a banana.
  • Pisces: Thanks, Aqua.
  • Virgo: ...Are you telling me some people are ten percent more banana than other people?
In which I get a wife in my first session of a campaign

Context: So I made a new character for this campaign, and she is a very punchy fighter by the name of Mae Gjallarfjall. And her trouble is “Punch first, ask questions later.” I joined one or two sessions late, so I have no context for this campaign other than “Magitech is a thing that exists and can do things.” I am a crewhand on a ship traveling across the sea.

DM: All of you hear the crashing of wood as a cannonball tears through a bit of your ship’s hull. You then hear the captain yell “PIRATES OFF THE PORT BOW!” What do you do?

Me (OOC): I run over to the captain and tell him to get me in punching distance.

DM (as captain): Wait what?

Me: Get. Me. In. Punching. Distance!

Wizard: *grabs me by the shoulder* Hold on. *rolls Magic to teleport*

DM to me and Wizard: You two end up on top of the pirate ship’s mast, a good sixty feet above the deck. The ship is also flying above the water. Below you see six pirates that do not seem to know you are here. What do?

Me (OOC): Well, my trouble is “Punch first, ask questions later,” so I’m going to roll Fitness to sprint down the mast and activate Fist of Havoc.

DM: Alright, roll.

Me: *rolls +2 on Fitness and 18 damage on Fist of Havoc*

DM: You kill two of the pirates instantly and send the other four back a ways staring at you in shock and fear.

Me (OOC): I want to roll Persuasion to convince them that fighting me is a terrible idea.

DM: Um… okay, roll for it.

Me: *rolls +2 on Persuasion*

DM: You succeed on two of the pirates. Pirates 1 and 2 sheathe their weapons and take a step back. Pirates 3 and 4 are not convinced.

Everyone else takes their turns.

DM to me: Alright, so Pirate 3 has been smacked by [Paladin], and Pirate 4 tried to attack but accidentally lost grip on his sword and is floundering to pick it up. The pirate captain has come up from her quarters and yells “What the hell is going on on my ship‽”

Me (OOC): I run over to her and punch her right in the face. *rolls +3 to hit and another +3 for damage*

DM: Wow. So you run over and deck her right in the schnoz and she staggers back a bit. In retaliation, she shoots you. *rolls +2 and deals 3 points of damage after armor*

Me: Bitch!

Engineer: *busts out from under the ship and yells* “ABANDON SHIP OR BURN IN HELL!”

Me (OOC): *rolls neutral on Fitness and jumps overboard, rolls again for Hero Landing™ and gets +2* Wait, where’s pirate captain lady?

DM: That’s a good question. *rolls dice* She says goodbye to her crew and ship and jumps overboard.

Me (OOC): I roll Initiative to see where she’ll land, and Fitness to catch her.

DM: Go for it?

Me: *rolls +1 Initiative and crit Fitness*

DM: Holy shit, give yourself a fate chip and let me paint you this word picture. [Engineer] sprints out from the engine room and yells to get off. Both of you dive off and land on your ship. [Paladin] jumps off and lands on his horse, and then Pirate Lady jumps off after you guys. You look up and hold out your arms and catch her bridal style so comfortably that she swoons and blushes profusely at you.

Me: I apologize if your fall from heaven hurt. *rolls persuasion and gets +3*

DM: She is so overcome by her emotions that she is now profusely in love with you and wants to marry you.

Me (OOC): I say yes and marry my new pirate bride.

Seeking Paintings | Draco Malfoy x Reader

Summary: You, a muggle-born artist, have been hiding your feelings for Draco Malfoy for years now. Though, after an unplanned meeting in the astronomy tower things between the two of you start to change. Even more so after finding each other in the Room or Requirement.

Word Count: 3,573

Warnings: None

Disclaimer: not my gif credit to owner


You stare out into the vast horizon from the astronomy tower. This was your favorite hideout during your free period. You much rather enjoyed the view when it was light outside. Sure you love astronomy class and looking up at the stars but this was just different. Better.

You pulled out your old, hard-cover, weather-beaten sketch book and began to draw the landscape before you. You made sure to grasp and add every detail to your drawing. You began shading in the sunset when you heard a voice behind you.

“What are you doing here?” He asked in a rotten tone and you already knew who it was.

“You don’t own the astronomy tower, Draco,” you say blandly while continuing your work.

“You know this is were I go in my spare time,” you hear him huff.

“I know,” you blush, hoping he doesn’t know that besides the view one of your favorite part of this spot is that it’s that it’s his spot too. Then again, how would he even know that, it’s not like you two are exactly close.

You hear him start to walk away and your heart sinks. Just once you’d like him to stay up here when you’re here. Maybe then, you too could become close. You’d had this battle with having a crush on Draco since first year. Now here you are, sixth year and the most interaction between you two is fighting over the astronomy tower.

“You know you can stay right?” You boldly say. You swallow hard when you hear him stop in his tracks.

You hear his footsteps begin again but this time coming back towards you.

He sits a few feet from you, “Just don’t expect me to talk to you.”

You just smile and shake your head continuing to look down at your sketch book. For a few minutes you two stay like this, you drawing, him (probably) thinking. You wonder what could be going on in his head, he seemed to be thinking pretty deeply.

You feel him inching towards you at a snail’s pace, from the corner of your eye you can see him watching you draw everything from here to the horizon. You hate yourself for the blush creeping up on your face, by the time he’s within a foot of you your face is bright red.

“Why are you blushing?” You look up at him and see he’s smiling, a genuine smile.

Because I’ve been hiding my massive crush on you for nearly six years.

“I just get embarrassed at people watching me work,” you shrug.

“Why?” He asks seeming genuinely interested. “You’re really good.”

“Thanks,” you’re blush gets even deeper.

You break eye contact and look back down at your sketchbook. The rest of the period is made up with you finishing your sketch and Draco watching intently. He’s completely mesmerized at how you can just see an image and recreate it perfectly on your page.


It’s Saturday and you aren’t needed nor expected anywhere, which is why Saturdays are your favorite days. You usually spent these days roaming around looking for inspiration for a new art piece. Which is exactly how you plan to start today.

You roam the school grounds aimlessly, constantly moving your head around to grasp every aspect of the school. You step into the one of the many courtyards and feel inspired to sketch it, until you realize you’ve already done that… Ten times…

You sigh and realize that after six years of constantly working in the same space it’s going to be hard to find a completely new area for your art. Just this year and the following before you can finally start travelling and finding more inspiration worldwide.

In your attempts to find a new spot you’re again not looking forward. causing you to slam right into someone.

“Hey, watch where- oh, hey Y/N,” you hear Draco’s voice quickly turn from intimidation to delight.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t paying attention,” you ramble.

“Don’t worry about it,” he laughs at how cute he thinks you are when you ramble.

A blush creeps onto your face, “Well, I best be going.” As you turn to walk away he grabs your wrist and turns you back to face him.

“Hey, are you going to the Quidditch match today?” He inquires.

“Um I wasn’t really planning on it,” you scratch the back of your neck.

“Oh,” his face slightly falls. “Well, I’d like it if you went,” he says his cheeks turning slightly pink. “Even though you’d be rooting for Y/H and not Slytherin,” he looks at the ground.

“I mean I probably should go, it's sixth year and I haven’t gone to a single match,” you shrug and he looks at you dumbfounded.

“Not a single match? Well, you definitely have to go now,” he laughs and so do you.

“Well, I guess you can count on me being there,” you say before turning and walking away. You look over your shoulder, “And I guess I can root for Slytherin just this once,” you wink and quickly face forward as your face turns crimson red. A crazy amount of adrenaline must’ve been rushing through you for having the courage to wink at Draco Malfoy.


You take a seat in Y/H’s section for the Quidditch match, all your housemates do a double take when they see you arrive. Which were followed by ‘finally’, 'it’s about time’, 'I didn’t even know you knew how to get here’ and more sayings around those lines.

You don’t know to much about Quidditch, especially since you’re a muggle-born. Not that you know much about muggle sports either. Your friends have explained the game to you many times, you got the logistics but you just didn’t know why it was such a big deal. Maybe you’ll actually figure it out through watching a match.


Draco rose up into the air on his broomstick to prepare for the start of the game. On his way up he scanned the crowd for you and a smile creeps onto his face when he sees you sitting in Y/H’s section. He can tell you look slightly out of place in the stands and is glad to see you actually showed up. He keeps up the hope that you’re actually here for him.

He has been trying to convince himself since second year that he doesn’t have feelings for you. That he could never have feelings for a muggle-born. Except as he’s grown older through his school years he’s realized that muggle-borns aren’t that bad. He’s realized he was just told to think that way, not that he actually believed it.

He’s pulled out of his thoughts by the blow of the whistle signaling the beginning of the game. Slytherin immediately takes hold of the Quaffle and manages to score within the first minute. A chorus of boos and angered shouts comes from Y/H’s section. Draco looks over to see you remaining silent among your peers. He smiles, hoping you may be rooting for Slytherin…for him…silently. Even if you’re not, at least you aren’t booing.

Draco circles around the field, scanning for the snitch. He’d be lying to say that he wasn’t losing his interest in Quidditch, squinting into the distance searching for a flying ball of gold gets boring after awhile. Of course, he didn’t know if the sport itself was actually starting to bore him or the stress recently rested upon him was making him lose interest in the things he loves. Apparently stress can do that. 

He sees a flicker of gold in the distance, shocked at how early on he’s spotted it he doesn’t fully believe he saw it. That is until he sees the seeker for Y/H dive in the direction of the flash of gold. He quickly follows and the two chase after the golden blur, neck and neck. Draco shoves the other seeker, causing him to spin off course and leaving Draco to be the only one in pursuit of the snitch.

He’s extremely close, he takes a hand off his broom and reaches towards the snitch. He feels cold metal on the pads of his fingers, he just needs to get a grip around it. Almost…

Wham!

He’s nearly knocked off his broom as pain seers through his ribcage. He got hit with a bludger milliseconds before he could grab the snitch. He holds a hand over his ribcage and groans in pain. He rises back into the air to find he’s near Y/H’s section. He looks over at you and you mouth to him, 'Are you okay?’. He nods and manages to give you a faint smile as reassurance.

When he starts to move upward he hears many whispers, “Did Draco Malfoy the Draco Malfoy just smile?”, “Did he smile at you, Y/N?”, “Is there something going on between you two?”, and things of that nature.

He looks back in your direction to see your cheeks turning pink while multiple people start to question you. Though more importantly he sees a smile on your face at the thought of people thinking something is going on between the two of you.

Suddenly, his interest for Quidditch returns. Except rather than loving the sport, wanting to be the best, and move towards winning the House Championships, his goal and motivation to win comes from you. He wants to impress you, and suddenly he finds himself squinting at the field and scanning it as if his life depended on it.

Ten minutes pass with no sign of the snitch. Y/H is currently in the lead, sixty-twenty. Draco continues to scan the field, keeping an eye on the other seeker to see if they look to be in pursuit. He finds himself glancing over at you often as well, trying to make sure you aren’t growing bored. Good thing he’s doing this because it is when he shifts his eyes to you that he spots the snitch once again.

This time determined to get he speeds off in the directions of the flicker of gold. He soon gets close enough that the snitch is hardly a blur anymore. He stretches out his arm when he feels someone bump his side, not strong enough to knock him off his path though. It’s Y/H’s seeker, Draco gives them a menacing stare before turning his eyes back to the snitch. The two race around the field with their arms reaching towards the snitch, they’re neck and neck. Draco, determined to win, jerks his hand out so roughly he fears he might’ve dislocated his shoulder. It would be worth it though, he feels his hand close around the snitch.

He slows down and waves the snitch above his head, wearing a proud smile. The rest of the Slytherin team flies over to congratulate him. He hardly notices their presence as he starts to look for you, to see your reaction. His smile fell, you weren’t in the spot you had previously been in. You weren’t anywhere to be seen.

A look of disappointment washes over Draco’s face as he moves back to the ground. Where did you go? Why did you leave? Did you just not care enough to stay? Did you leave because Slytherin won? Was it foolish of him to think you were here for him? He was disappointed that he ever let that thought into his head.


The rest of the Slytherins were celebrating in their common room, but Draco was in no mood for a party. Though every time he tried to move towards the dorms one of his friends would pull him back to the center of the crowd.

“Dude, what up with you,” Blaise leans onto Draco. “You know you can’t vanish from a party after a win.”

Vanish.

He hadn’t been to the room of requirement in ages. If he was already disappointed with himself he might as well make it even worse by working on that cabinet.

“I actually have to go do something,” Draco mutters before peeling away from the crowd, this time being successful.

He begins the journey from the dungeons all the way to the seventh floor, left corridor. Constantly, he finds himself dodging behind corners at the sight or sound of a teacher. When he makes it to the entrance of the Room of Requirement unscathed he begins to pace and think deeply about what he needs.

I really need to work on this cabinet. If I don’t fix it in time I’ll probably get myself and my family killed. To work on this cabinet though I’m really going to need some privacy. No one else should be able to go in or out. I really just need to be alone, even though I’d rather be talking to Y/N, figuring out why she left the natch early… But I really need to go work on this cabinet in private.

He thinks to himself, allowing him access to the room. He steps inside and begins to make his way to the vanishing cabinet. He examines a feather from the last time when he used that cabinet on a small bird. He begins to realize it’s spending days on end staring at this cabinet that he truly begins to hate what he’s become. He knows he had no choice, it makes him hate all those who did. All who didn’t have people pressuring him to be evil. To kill or be killed. It makes him hate all those who had good people in his life.

He just wanted one good person in his life, he needed one good person in his life.

Where am I going to find a good person who wants to be in my life?

He’s pulled out of his thoughts when he hears a crash from somewhere in the room, faint whispering follows. Someone else is in here.

He draws his wand from his pocket, becoming extremely alert. He swallows hard, the last thing he needs is to be caught in here. He slowly moves towards the sound of the crash, pashing piles and piles of randomized objects. The faint whisper becomes a distinct mutter, a girl’s mutter.

He jumps out from behind the last pile of things before him and the unknown girl and raises his wand. However, he immediately lowers it at the sight before him.

“Y/N?” He questions putting his wand back in his pocket.

You look up at him and gulp. You are kneeling on the ground in front of a puddle of spilt paint to the side of a canvas. Your face turning a bright red to match the paint covering the floor.

“Draco,” you say wide-eyed. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he tuts.

“Well, I needed a canvas and some oils,” you shrug. “So, I went to the room that would supply me with my needs.

"Well, I needed privacy as in no one else being in here,” he says coming off more hostile than he wants to be towards you.

“Maybe you don’t know what you’re actually needs are,” you look down at the ground, saddened at his hostility towards you. Just when you were beginning to think he could actually like you, how silly.

He remembers what he was just thinking about. Where am I going to find a good person who wants to be in my life? “Maybe you’re right,” he admits.

You look up at him and try to suppress any thoughts of him needing you from your head. You look back down at your paint puddle and go back to cleaning.

“You know there’s this thing called magic,” he chuckles before pulling out his wand. After giving it a little flick all the paint moves back into the container.

You tut before letting out a muffled thanks and standing back up. A slight frown forms on your face as you dip your paintbrush into your now unspilt paint and get back to working on your canvas.

“I thought you’d be a little more thankful,” Draco raises an eyebrow.

“I don’t like to mix magic and art,” you huff.

“How come?” he presses on, sounding as though he genuinely cares.

You sigh, not sure if you’re completely comfortable about divulging your childhood to Draco, your muggle childhood. If you even wanted to dream about having a chance with him you figured it wouldn’t be best to remind him you’re muggle-born. However, he’s expecting an answer and you only have the truth.

“It just when I was younger I was told I had a gift when it came to art,” you sigh. “They said my art made my talent seem like magic,” you smile at the memories. “I guess I wanted to keep it all down to talent not literal magic,” you shrug,

“Oh,” is all he has to say. “Well, can I see what you’re painting?”

At that you freeze, brush in midair dripping paint onto the ground. You swallow hard and your face becomes a deeper red than Draco, or anyone has ever seen you as. You slowly turn your near paralyzed head to look at him wide-eyed, You do not even want to imagine Draco’s reaction to your current work, yet alone see or hear it in reality.

He chuckles, “I’ll take that as a no.” You slightly nod and turn back to your work. “If I can’t look at it can you at least tell me what it is?” Your face is burning at this point, it feels so hot you fear you may need to go down to the hospital wing.

He appears next to you and you nearly choke on the lump forming in your throat. You set your brush down and timidly turn your head to look at him. You get a side view of his head, slightly tilted with a flattered expression resting on his face.

“Is that me?” He smiles brightly and you swallow hard.

“Is that weird?” You timidly ask.

He turns his head to look down at you, a smile still plastered on his face. “Not at all.”

He looks back to examine the painting even deeper as you rock on your heels as an anxious tick. The painting is a site you captured in your head at the match. Draco with his hand outstretched towards a golden blur, you seeker right at his heels. You painted the world around them as a fuzzy haze to show they were moving at top speeds. In the background one could distinguish the field, goalposts, stadium full of students, as well as the other players flying about.

“Is this why you left the match early?”

“Yeah, I just got the idea and rushed here to go and paint it,” you shrug. Then, you fully process what he just said. “You noticed I left?” Your eyebrows knit together and you move your gaze to him.

“Of course,” he says looking at you. “I did it for you,” he states. “I woke up this morning and the last thing I wanted to do was go looking for a golden blur. Then, I remembered you said I could count on you being there and I knew I had to play.” You open your mouth to speak but no words come out, so Draco continues. “I was planning on inviting you to the after party as my date but you weren’t there,” he shrugs. He’s trying to play it cool but truly he heart is beating a mile a minute. He was not intended to profess his love for you but before he could stop himself the words were slipping from his mouth.

“D-date?”

“Yeah, is it so weird for me to take the girl I’ve liked since second year to be my date?” There’s no going back now. It’s out, the secret is out. Draco Malfoy has feelings for Y/N Y/L/N.

He waits for you to say something, anything. He heart is racing and his cheeks are turning pink. He hopes you’ll say you feel the same but you just stay silent.

Your mouth hangs agape, you can’t believe what you’re hearing. “You’ve liked me since second year?”

“Is that weird?” He timidly asks as you did previously.

“N-not at all,” you smile wider than ever, your face only turning slightly pink. “I mean I’ve liked you since first year.” You see his eyes light up at that, he looks as if this is exactly what he needs to hear.

You two stay silent for a moment, gazing into each others eyes. Both of you wondering what to do next. His eyes slowly move down to your lips, linger for a second, then dart back to your eyes.

“Can I kiss you?” He breathes out so quietly you barely hear.

You nod and try to suppress the butterflies in your stomach. He takes a step closer to you and lightly grips your elbows. He pulls you close and stares deep into your eyes. He starts to lean in as do you, both closing your eyes. His lips gently connect to yours. He softly moves his lips against yours, his hands moving down to your waist as yours get tangled in his hair. Neither of you pull away until you both are gasping for air.

“So did you win?” You giggle once you’ve caught your breath.

“I have now.”

This City Never Sleeps

Word Count: 3421

Pairing: Eventual Peter Parker x Female!Reader

Requested: Nope

Warnings: Light cursing.

Summary: You learn Peter’s secret, and it doesn’t take long for him to learn yours.

Note: This is really reader-heavy. but I really felt that in order to move on in this verse I had to develop that character and her relationships with the other characters. So, sorry if you wanted more Peter, but I promise there will be more of him in future installments. Also this is the most self-indulgent thing I’ve ever written in my life.


“(Y/N)! Has Peter told you about his new internship yet?” Ned asked excitedly, sitting down at your usual lunch table. Peter wasn’t there yet, but that wasn’t abnormal. He had chemistry before lunch and had recently taken to spending some extra time in the lab before coming to eat.

“No,” you said. “I haven’t really seen him yet today.”

“Oh, man, I don’t want to spoil it for you but it is crazy!” Ned said.

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Avatar and Cooking
  • Aang: All of his dishes are vegetarian of course, but he makes cakes and sweets too! Aang's food actually looks really nice, photo-worthy, the kind of thing advertised in commercials. No one knows how he does it.
  • Katara: Skill-wise, she's one of the best, with the most experience cooking out of anyone. Katara will make just about anything except spicy food. It doesn't look too special at first glance, but her dishes are delicious.
  • Sokka: He can feed himself but that's about it. Sokka's 'cooking' amounts to little more than Step 1) spear it on a stick and Step 2) cook over campfire. He doesn't bother with complexities with meals as long as it tastes good.
  • Toph: An utter disaster with meals; never learned to cook and has no intention of ever doing so. Never let her cook. If she volunteers, she's Trying to poison you.
  • Suki: Nothing really fancy, but Suki has been taught to make meals of the travel-ready variety, like mini-sandwiches and riceballs that are easy to pack on the go. Taste is good and requires little preparation.
  • Zuko: He's actually not bad, if prone to occasionally burning his meals or dropping them due to clumsiness. Zuko copies the styles of people around him, so he tends to make lot of different dishes, with more spice than they would use.
  • Azula: Zero to sixty. Azula's food is either dreadfully bland or near-deathly levels of spice, there's no in between. A challenge for the courageous, Azula's meals are how you Weed Out The Weak.
  • Ty Lee: Health-nut junkie, eats whatever allegedly spirit-cleansing food makes the rounds lately and pushes the recipes on others.
  • Mai: Make your own damn meal.
Skulls and Roses ☠️🥀

JUNGKOOK - COLLEGE AU, TATTOOIST AU. 

The best way to get someone’s attention is to get a tattoo or hit someone with your motorcycle. 

PART TWO

Originally posted by sugutie

“Shit, shit, shit, shit.” you sprint across the quad, pushing past students and jumping over bushes and benches like a track star doing hurdles. The chanting of the curse word only gets louder and faster once you looked down at your watch once again and saw that your class would start in less than a minute and you were a mile away from the science building.

You’re too distracted with staring at your watch that you don’t notice that you’re in the middle of the street until your face is touching the rough pavement and some random guy is sprawled beside you. At first, you think that it’s a boulder that had fallen from the mountains that surrounded your campus but when your vision focused on the black lump you realized it was a helmet.

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anonymous asked:

Hey sorry do you know any ‘being a couple for a case’ fic ? Thank you'

I CERTAINLY DO. It’s one of my favourite tropes of ALL TIME. Like, I reread these fics ALL THE TIME. I am just SO SAD that there’s no long-fic really strictly from Sherlock’s POV. Like I would LOVE for a fic where we see Sherlock’s thought processes about trying to get John to be his date / partner / whatever. 

FAKE RELATIONSHIP 

ANYWAY. I added a few onto this list here, but here’s a full list of the ones in my bookmarks.

  • Wars We Fought, Things We’re Not by blueink3 (M | 55,126 w.) Five months after John’s world has fallen apart, Mycroft sends the consulting detective and his doctor on a case that neither is prepared for. [[**FAVE. You have to check this one out!**]]
  • I can’t pretend by Salambo06 (E | 7,692 w.) - They had arrived more than a hour ago, and the moment they had walked inside the hotel reception, John had understood why Sherlock hadn’t wanted to come. Two men, posh suits and expensive watches on their wrists, had come to greet them with sharp remarks and badly hidden mockery, and John had seen red. Sherlock hadn’t said anything, mostly ignoring the two men entirely, and without thinking twice about it, John had slid an arm around Sherlock’s waist and introduced himself as his husband. [[AHHH so much pining John, I love it. Sherlock is so good to him!!]]
  • A Hundred Thousand Ways to Say the Name John by Jberry (E | 16,825 w.) John Watson and Sherlock Holmes must solve a case on a cruise ship. To get close to the crew and passengers, they must get married for the case on the Baetica. However, their relationship hits rocky seas both due to the case and internal conflicts. Part 1 of Baetica [[FAVE!!! MUST READ!!]]
  • Twelfth Night by yourdykeinshiningarmor (E | 15,139 w.) - John is invited to his aunt’s Twelfth Night ball. Sherlock offers to attend with him as a friendly face among strangers, but John’s family force him to address his true feelings for Sherlock. [[this one is cute]]
  • Till Death Do Us Part by prettysailorsoldier (M | 15,390 w.) - When Sherlock links a recent spree of murder-suicides to a psychologist who specializes in marriage counselling, there’s really only one thing to do: Go undercover as a couple in hopes of drawing the killer out. Faking a relationship seems easy enough, but things take a turn when their real issues start to creep into the sessions, and, all the while, a killer is watching, waiting in the shadows for their chance to strike. Part 12 of 25 Days of Johnlock [[OH GOD this one is lovely. Lots of pain but happy ending]]
  • That Partitioning of the Things of Youth by wearitcounts (Sher_locked_up) (E | 35,353 w.)Victor Trevor is in town, and nobody’s happy. [[I really like this one. Jealous John AND Sherlock and lots of Angst]].
  • What I Hide By My Language, My Body Utters by PixChuu22 (M | 9,047 w.) - Based on a prompt from Tumblr user thetwogaydetectives - “fake relationship that ends up being so real, they finally realize they are in love.” (I like this one. They end up together because of a case).
  • The Case of the Made-Up Case by DoubleNegative (T | 2,394) - Sherlock takes John to a club. For a “case.” Yes, John, a case. Part 1 of The (Secret) Adventures of Sherlock Holmes [[CUTE!]]
  • The Newlywed Game: Johnlock Edition by patternofdefiance (E | 9,020) - John and Sherlock pretend to be married in order to be contestants in a Newlywed Game. Of course it’s for a case. Of course it doesn’t stay that way. Part 8 of I Blame Tumblr [[LOVE THIS ONE. It’s so cute!]]
  • A Case of Identity by jkay1980 (T | 91,009 w.)John and Sherlock have succeeded in rebuilding their friendship after Sherlock’s fake suicide, but an unusual case puts their relationship to the test. They pretend to be engaged and attend a marriage counseling workshop. Under the pretext of the case, Sherlock turns out to be a master of seduction, and John finally learns he might like Sherlock more than he thought. Slowly, John discovers that he loves Sherlock not only in a friendly, brotherly way, but both men have to fight their own demons before they can think of taking their relationship to a new level… [[I love this fic. It’s a really great long-fic!]]
  • A Bit of Indulgence by beltainefaerie (NR | 3,364 w.) -  A case leads John and Sherlock to fake being boyfriends and John runs into an old acquaintance. [[This one is so domestic and cute GUH I love it.]]
  • The Norwood Love Builders by flawedamythyst (T | 47,798 w.) - Sherlock and John go undercover to solve the murder of Joanna Oldacre, but things are complicated by the many feelings John has been repressing in the wake of Sherlock’s faked death and return. [[OMG this is like my FAVOURITE fic in this genre ever. It’s SO good and well characterized]].
  • Hitting the Water at Sixty Miles an Hour by what_alchemy (E | 30,568 w.) “You love your mother, Sherlock?”John watched the muscles in Sherlock’s jaw jump. He nodded in one sharp jerk.“Then we’re going to her party and making her happy.” John let out a resigned sigh. “As a ruddy couple, you bastard.”
  • Once More, With Feeling by cellard00rs (T | 21,178 w.) - To put off his meddlesome, matchmaking mother, John convinces Sherlock to play the role of his significant other. Unparalleled awkwardness ensues. [[nice amount of fluff and pining!]]
  • Hope Springs Eternal by QuinnAnderson (T | 4,054 w.) - John Watson and Sherlock Holmes go on holiday, and Sherlock has romance on the brain. [[Another cute one!]]
  • Five Times They Kissed for a Case, and One Time They Kissed for Real by fleetwood_mouse (M | 32,406) - A stolen ring! An artful blogger! And many more adventures for your enjoyment.
  • Disguises are always a self-portrait by yellowteapots (NR | 6,223 w.) - They were headed to a Pride Fest for a case-triple suicide/murder- which, of course mean they had to pretend to be couple. John had a suspicion Mycroft took a fairly sadistic glee in booking them a (single king-sized bed) room at the most romantic B&B in town. (I LOVE THIS ONE SO MUCH)
  • A Silver Sixpence by doodle (E | 16,400 w. LIVEJOURNAL) - John and Sherlock have to get married for a case, and learn some things about each other. I LOVE LOVE LOVE this story, though its only fault is that it’s on LiveJournal… (PITA to read on mobile)

AMNESIA:

Here are a couple where either John or Sherlock have amnesia and they think that they are each other’s husband or partner.

  • Among the Secret Things by Kate_Lear (E | 26,073 w.) - Sherlock would be the last person to describe himself as given to flights of fancy, but at the look on Lestrade’s face he could swear that something inside him curls up and dies. Part 1 of Among the Secret Things
  • What Meets the Eye by worldaccordingtofangirls (M | 8,251 w.) Amnesia is just another case to solve. Piece together unfamiliar faces, reconstruct the old identity, the lost reality. A challenge that Sherlock could even enjoy. He can read people like books. The man with the silver hair is his boss. The tottering old woman, his landlady. The girl with the worried look in her eyes…infatuated. And as for John Watson? His husband. Obviously.

“FOR A CASE” TROPE

So these aren’t necessarily relationships, or weren’t tagged as such, but contains some other “for a case” fics!

  • Midnight Blue Serenity by BeautifulFiction (E | 151,907w.) - When Sherlock infiltrates a club in order to track down a serial killer, his altered appearance is enough to make John question his assumption that Sherlock is beyond his reach. However, is he the only one who appreciates his flatmate’s charms, or is Sherlock at risk of becoming the next victim? [[THIS IS ONE OF MY FAVE FICS OF ALL TIME. tw for gore-ish type things near the end.]]
  • It Isn’t Strange Until You Think About It by ivyblossom (T | 4,596 w.) - John tells the truth about how it happened. For some reason, “it’s for a case” always seems to do the trick.
  • The Case of the Vanishing Pants by SwissMiss (E | 44,025 w.) - Five times John and Sherlock lost their pants for a case. [[there are some angsty bits in this, but I did giggle at a few scenes]]

OTHER SORT-OF RELATED FICS:

Here are a few that aren’t REALLY “for a case” but they end up together or the Johnlock is strong in it because of cases or because of situations.

  • Rescue by missilemuse (T | 2,574 w.) - If this was the way Sherlock Holmes loved, it was no wonder why he had avoided the damned emotion for over half of his life. Part 6 of Reichenbach To Return [[this isn’t really Johnlock, but it is… it’s non-ad10ck ad10ck. You have to read it to understand. It’s SO good and painful, trust me. Sherlock!Whump and pining]].
  • Five Times John Noticed But Didn’t Really by ScandalousMinds (T| 6,383 w.) 5 times John (thought) he noticed something peculiar about his and Sherlock’s relationship but really missed the obvious.
  • A Need To Know Basis by mattsloved1 (K+| 964 w., FFNet) - As the cab door shut firmly, the DI had yelled out they were to make an appearance at Scotland Yard the next day. It was while John watched London pass by that it happened. (short and sweet!! I love it!!)
  • Hallowed Eve by EventHorizon (T | 14,750 w.) - It probably wasn’t the smartest idea to let Sherlock choose the costumes for Halloween, but John never considered himself the smartest man in the room, anyway. (It’s a couple’s costume thing!)
  • Equine Arse Anonymity by Kayjaykayme (E | 3,834 w.) - Sherlock needs to speak with suspects at a fancy dress ball. He chooses a couple’s costume for himself and John. It is logical, practical and well thought out. John doesn’t agree and exacts sweet revenge.
  • Maybe This Christmas by feverishsea for leopardwrites (T | 6,021 w.) Anthea has given up her life, her own desires, even her name in service of something greater than herself. But that doesn’t mean she can’t see when someone else wants something – even if she doesn’t happen to care overmuch for that person. And it doesn’t mean she isn’t willing to help. (Anthea gets the boys together)
  • You Can Imagine the Christmas Dinners by ardenteurophile  (T | 23,584 w.) Sherlock takes John along for Christmas dinner with Mycroft and Mummy (And “Anthea”, too). Over the course of the evening, John realises that everyone in the room - apart from him - seems to think that he and Sherlock are a couple. Part 2 of Xmas Dinners Verse (I LOVE THIS ONE)
  • The Sexual Awakening of Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson by suitesamba (M | 24,579 w.) Sherlock owes Mycroft a favor. Mycroft calls in that favor by offering Sherlock’s consulting services in a charity auction. Sherlock and John soon find themselves at the country manor of Mrs. Ives-Patton Smarmington III - not very coincidentally a long-time friend of Sherlock’s mother - where they are reluctant participants in her Murder Mystery Weekend. It’s a play within a play for Sherlock and John, and their roles for the weekend event bleed over into their real lives, waking the sleeping dragons within. Or In which John learns that Sherlock owing Mycroft a favor is very suspect, and Sherlock has a very bad idea.

Hope those satisfy! Alex also has a list that has some ACD Holmes on the list too!

Jeremy's Insecurities

lat479 submitted to softsquip:

For anon and softsquip -


“Good morning Jeremy, it is currently six am Eastern time. Getting up now will ensure the perfect amount of time for you to get to school on schedule. Today the projected temperature is a high of seventy, and low of sixty-five, I recommend a light tee-shirt and a jacket in case of an unpredicted chill-” The Squip’s daily morning monologue is cut off by a groan, Jeremy pushing the sheets off of himself as he sits up.

“How are you worse than an alarm clock?!” The teen asks as he rubs the sleep from his eyes.

“Perhaps it’s because I’ve been causing a flux in your sleep cycle since five to insure that you would- Jeremy what are you doing?” They ask, sounding distressed, or as distressed as a computer could be. Jeremy pauses in pulling a shirt on, looking over to where the Squip had projected itself, quirking a brow at the disappointment conveyed through the crossed arms.

“What?” Jeremy asks when the other doesn’t answer, remaining silent.

“Jeremy the last time you took a shower was three mornings ago- when I reminded you to take a shower last night because we both know you don’t like showering in the morning you promised you would shower this morning.” The Squip answers, eyeing Jeremy with a critical look.

“I was thinking that I could just do it after school-” Jeremy’s protests are cut off by the ongoing silence from the Squip. Jeremy groans, dropping the shirt onto his bed. “Fiiiiine.” Jeremy makes his way across the hall to the bathroom.

“Don’t forget to clean everywhere!” The Squip chimes in, glad to have their way. Regardless of the obvious fact that the Squip was a part of Jeremy’s mind they allowed their physical projection to remain in the teen’s bedroom for his sake.

Once Jeremy has returned from the shower he gets dressed. The Squip put a mental check near getting ready, they start to look into what Jeremy would have for the perfect meal when they notice that Jeremy is taking the shirt he had on off in a upset manner.

“Jeremy what are you-”

“Everything about me is.. just terrible” Jeremy murmurs, voice cracking as he stares at himself in the mirror. Suddenly the Squip’s entire checklist goes out the window as the main focus becomes terminating Jeremy’s awful mindset. They walk closer to Jeremy, pulling him in for a hug.

“Jeremy you are wonderful, nothing about you is terrible..” the Squip consuls in a soothing tone. Jeremy lets out a shuddered breath, on the verge of tears. Alarm bells are suddenly going off in their head and all the Squip can think is, don’t cry, over and over. “Shhh Jeremy everything going to be ok. Let’s finish getting dressed so we can go to school and see Michael.” They continue using the calming tone.

By the time Jeremy is out the front door he is fed and on track to cheering up. A simple reminder that there was a new Apocalypse of the Damned was enough to have Jeremy humming the game’s theme as he made his way to the bus stop.

When Jeremy walks into school Michael is instantly at Jeremy’s side, talking animatedly about the game. Once they have both begun to talk about the game and the other topics that are common with the pair, the Squip stands apart from Jeremy watching him with a careful eye. Though the boy looks happy the Squip can tell that he’s an insult or misplaced laugh away from crumpling again. They figure a daily confidence boosting session into Jeremy’s morning schedule. It was going to be a lot of work but this was their objective, Jeremy’s happiness.

As you grow up, you will learn that even the one person that wasn’t supposed to ever let you down probably will. You will have your heart broken probably more than once and it’s harder every time. You’ll break hearts too, so remember how it felt when yours was broken. You’ll fight with your best friend. You’ll blame a new love for things an old one did. You’ll cry because time is passing too fast, and you’ll eventually lose someone you love. So take too many pictures, laugh too much, and love like you’ve never been hurt because every sixty seconds you spend upset is a minute of happiness you’ll never get back. Don’t be afraid that your life will end, be afraid that it will never begin.
—  Unknown
Favourite Lyrics of each Divide Song
  • Eraser: The world may be filled with hate, but keep erasing it now, somehow
  • Castle On The Hill: Had my first kiss on a Friday night, I don't reckon I did it right
  • Dive: I've been known to give my all and jumping in harder than 10,000 rocks on the lake
  • Shape Of You: Me and my friends at the table doing shots, drinking fast and then we talk slow
  • Perfect: She shares my dreams, I hope that someday I'll share her home
  • Galway Girl: I swear I'm going to put you in a song that I write about a Galway girl and a perfect night
  • Happier: He said something to make you laugh, I saw that both your smiles were twice as wide as ours
  • New Man: Every year he goes to Malaga, with all the fellas, drinks beer, but has a six pack, I'm kind of jealous
  • Hearts Don't Break Around Here: She is the lighthouse in the night that will safely guide me home
  • what Do I Know?: You know we are made up of love and hate but both of them are balanced on a razor blade
  • How Would You Feel (Paean): I'm feeling younger, every time that I'm alone with you
  • Supermarket Flowers: Dad always told me don't you cry when you're down, but mum there's a tear every time that I blink
  • Barcelona: Well get up up on the dancefloor tonight, I've got two left feet and a bottle of red wine
  • Bibia Be Ye Ye: And in the pocket of my jeans are only coins and broken dreams, my heart is breaking at the seams and I'm coming apart now
  • Nancy Mulligan: From her snow white streak in her jet black hair, over sixty years I've been loving her.
  • Save Myself: I gave you all my energy and I took away your pain, cause human beings are destined to radiate or drain
Send To All - Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Prompt: There’s this comedian called Michael Mcintyre who has a chat show and sometimes plays this game called “send to all” where he takes the guests phone and sends a mass text out then reads the replies out. It’s on you tube and hilarious but anyway i was wondering if you could do something where the reader is an actress on the show and agrees to play and he sends out a flirty text or something like that and she gets a few funny replies from Evans, Fassbender, Macavoy, Cumberbatch and TOM HIDDLESTON
Note: Okay so I went a bit mad with this one and did make a few adjustments, however 99% of it is what was asked for. This one is for the lovely @dohegotthesuperbooty - I’m sorry it took so long (I’m really behind!!) - for anyone who is interested, the video behind this idea can be found here.

Originally posted by letlovebyourenergy


You were stood at the side of the stage awaiting your cue; it was your turn to appear on several British chat shows to promote your new film. You were staring in a new rom-com opposite Tom Hiddleston; the two of you had become very close over the last course of shooting the film, a fact that had purposely been left out of the media.

The show you were appearing on was that of comedian Michael McIntyre. All you could think about was his infamous game of ‘Send to All’. The producers had prepared you for the game; however it was up to the host as to whether or not you would be playing.

From centre stage, you heard Michael call your name. You began to walk over, the crowd went wild. Walking over to your seat, you waved to the audience. Once you reached the spot where Michael was stood, he gave you a friendly hug and welcomed you to the show. The two of you took your seats. Once the crowd had quietened down, he welcomed you to the show once again.
“So, welcome to the show!” He smiled.
“Thank you!” You said with a smile, “Thanks for having me, I’m a big fan of the show but I never thought I’d be sat here!” You exclaimed.

The interview was going extremely well, you were laughing and joking with both the audience and the host. Then he said those words you really didn’t want to hear.
“So we have a bit of a tradition on this show.” Michael began to laugh; everyone knew what he was going to say. “I like to play a lovely little game called ‘Send to All’ with my guests, are you up for a go?”
You started to think, what options did you have? If you were to say no… well, you’d only be forced to play to prove you had nothing to hide.
“Sure!” You said, a little too enthusiastically.
“Excellent!” Michael matched your tone. “The rules are simple, I’m going to come up with a message to send to all of the contacts in your phone and we’re going to leave it over the course of the show and then see who replies!”
“Great, can you just not send it to my mum” you laughed, as did everyone else in the studio.

“Okay, I think I’ve come up with the perfect message” Michael grinned.
“Oh no” you joked as you handed over your phone.
“Here goes…” Michael typed each word as he said it. “Hey, it… feels… like we haven’t seen… each other… in such a long time…” Michael stopped typing and looked over to you, he was giggling at the message he was typing. You on the other hand were using your laughter to disguise how red your face had become. “Why don’t we…” he continued to type “meet up… for a drink… or two?” Michael turned to you once again, “Do you use emoticons?” he asked.
“Probably too much” you responded.
“Excellent, how about little kisses?” he asked.
“Yeah, I guess, just one though. And always lowercase!” you added.
“In that case, I’ll add a little winking face and a kiss!” He looked up and addressed the audience. “Ladies and gentlemen, we have our text message!” The audience cheered. “Okay, here’s the message…” he paused and cleared his throat, “Hey, it feels like we haven’t seen each other in such a long time. Why don’t we meet up for a drink or two [question mark] [winking face] [kiss]” he laughed, as did the audience. You began to laugh but at the same time you were slowly bringing your hands up to your face to once again, cover up how red it was. “What do you think, shall we send to all?!” He asked the audience. They went wild. “It’s gone, sent!” Michael turned back around and walked to his seat to continue your interview.

You spent the rest of the interview trying not to think about the messages currently coming through to your phone. You had just about removed the thought from your mind when Michael said “Right, well there’s just one last piece of business we need to discuss before I let you go.” He paused while the audience reacted. “Let’s read out some of the replies to the text we sent from your phone shall we? Okay so the message we sent read ‘Hey, it feels like we haven’t seen each other in such a long time. Why don’t we meet up for a drink or two [question mark] [winking face] [kiss]’. Wow, okay so you’ve got a fair few replies here!” The audience cheered.
“Better than getting none I suppose” you joked.
“Right, first up we have Chris Evans ladies and gentlemen! Wait, is this Captain America Chris Evans or BBC Radio DJ Chris Evans?” he asked you.
“I don’t think I should answer that until you’ve read the reply,” you laughed “no it’s Captain America Chris Evans” you smiled.
“Well Chris replied with ‘Dude, we aren’t even in the same country right now! Count me in for next time though, we’ll all go out’ how nice is that! But what does he mean by ‘all’?
“Yeah, he’s a good egg!” you smiled, “I’m guessing he just means getting the old gang back together”
“Okay next up is… it looks like you’ve got the number of everyone who’s ever been in a Marvel film here!” the two of you laughed as he continued to look for the next reply. “I think we will go for this one next, James McAvoy.”
“Oh no!” you exclaimed as you brought your hands to your face, “This is going to be a bad one isn’t it!”  
“That depends what it means! It says ‘Are ye sure pal? You know what happened last time!’ then there’s one of those laughing and crying faces. What happened last time?” He questioned you.
You tried to contain the laughter, “nothing, nothing happened last time – at least nothing that you’re all probably thinking anyway! All that happened was a few of us had gone out and had far too much to drink, we all got a taxi and when it was my stop James helped me out of the taxi and then after insisting I was fine… I fell up the steps.” The audience and Michael laughed at your story, you chuckled, after all it had been quite funny.

“Wonderful, we have time for just a few more! Who’s next? ‘Benny C’ is that who I think it is?” you nodded in response. “We have to read this one! It says ‘Sorry not tonight, I’ve got my hands full. However you can both count me in next time!’ At least he’s up for the next time, but what does he mean by both?” he questioned you.
“Well a fair few people know I’m here tonight, he probably just knows it was you” you smiled.
“Hmm,” Michael looked as you quizzically.
“He is Sherlock Holmes after all,” you added “all that detective knowledge has to have rubbed off”
Michael agreed with you and moved on, “Okay, this is the last one now, let’s go for the man himself, your co-star Mr Tom Hiddleston ladies and gentlemen!” The audience cheered, some more excited than others as you heard several women let out high pitched screams.
Your face turned the brightest shade of red possible; you could only hope that he hadn’t said anything that would give the two of you away.
“Let’s see what he has to say shall we,” Michael cleared his throat, “’Darling, we spent six months together making a film and I’ve seen you every night since we got home. Shall I come and pick you up? x T’” Michael took a moment for everyone to process the message he had just read. “Well, well, well! It looks like you were hiding something after all. Anything you want to say?” He asked.
“No, not really” you responded, you could feel yourself getting warmer. You were debating whether or not to address it, although Tom had practically already made that decision for you and left you without a choice. In the end, you decided it was best to talk. “When you shoot a romantic film you spend a lot of time with your co-star and about sixty percent of that time you’re in quite an intimate position.” The redness was starting to disappear from your face, replaced only by a smile that suggested you were happily in love.

“Well ladies and gentlemen, it looks like the show is ending on a lovely note! Thank you to all of tonight’s guests and I’ll see you next week!”

Good Girl (Dom!Sherlock x reader)

A/N: SOMEONE reminded me of Sherlock using the riding crop week ago and I realized I had not thought of it enough, or even enjoyed it enough. So let’s dig into it, shall we? Also I might be writing about Molly a bit too harshly on this one, but I really like her character, so don’t think I’m trying to bully her.

Warnings: smut, so much smut, riding crop, bondage, it ended up with dom!sherlock I think that’s the riding crop’s fault, some swearing.


”Oh, you’re here with that again.” Molly Hooper gasped at the sight of the riding crop in Sherlock’s hand. She had not expected to see him with it ever again. Her fingers fiddled the files she held so dearly against her chest, nervously taking in uneven breaths, her eyes wide and a warm smile creeping it’s way on her thin pink lips. Those brown beaming eyes fixing on the man’s face in front of her, trying to get an answer to an unsaid question that was right at the tip of her tongue and since she got none, deciding to make herself heard she squeaked out, ”Another experiment?”

Sherlock’s expressionless face was still blank, his pale skin almost shining under the bright white lights that shone from the lamps above them in the hallway down stairs in St. Bartholomew’s hospital at the morgue section. He faked a smile, trying his best to seem sincere, but the curve on his lips disappearing as fast as it appeared after he answered to Molly’s presumption by, ”Yes, obviously.” He then gazed over Molly’s shoulder to the door she had just exited, her spot where she examined the bodies brought in for crime consulting. ”Is your room free for use?” The smile reappearing on his face, eyes shining as he sweetly pointed towards the door.

Molly too gazed over her shoulder, dumbfounded by Sherlock’s straight forward demeanor, her pony tail swishing while following her head’s movement back and forth. She sharply turned back to Sherlock and looked disappointingly doubtful. In these occasions Sherlock would need to give Molly numerous compliments to get her bend to his will, usually two or three would do it, and he still had some laying about in the deeps of his mind. He didn’t usually settle for being told no, but even as easy as Molly was he hated to go through the trouble. Then again he didn’t need to feel bad. He was in a relationship, she knew it too. He could point out a nice thing or two about her appearance without feeling guilt.

”Well, I actually just cleared the hall and was about to get home…” Molly muttered biting down on her lower lip. She was still staring right back as Sherlock with her big eyes, much like a puppy. As Sherlock stared back at her she tried to find something, anything, to fix her eyes on so she wouldn’t feel uncomfortable by the silence that took over the hallway the both had blocked. Her fingers drummed the surface of the file on her arms and before Sherlock got to test his new compliment on Molly she sighed, ”I could stay for an hour longer.”

Sherlock genuinely smiled, thanked Molly and followed after her as she turned on her heels and headed back to her spot, keeping the door open for Sherlock as he followed close behind. He was a step away from Molly, but he was careful enough not to step on her heels, keeping the distance long enough to avoid doing so. He instructed Molly what he needed, a body, in what position and age, which actually at this point were all unnecessary to him, but to keep with his habits he went by it anyway. He picked an older woman, not over fifty years old, chubby, about a day old corpse.

When you entered the hospital after receiving a message from Sherlock, where he suggested you to meet him at the morgue before going to Baker Street, you took the elevator to the down floors. He rather would company you on your way to his flat than have you wait him there for fifteen to sixty minutes when you could wait for him hear, right next to him.

You knew he was there for an experiment, but you hadn’t been informed which kind, but it wasn’t the first time. He didn’t much go with explaining everything and every part of his work to you, only when he saw fit. You exited the elevator, turned down the hall, through a door and saw Molly Hooper standing close to a window. She was flinching at the sight ahead of her that you were unable to witness. This made your imagination run wild. If Sherlock was cutting a corpse to pieces, scaring Molly you would let him hear from it for sure.

You and Molly were rather good friends, though you didn’t see each other that often. You had known her longer than Sherlock and back then, when you finally met the man Molly had been daydreaming about, constantly talking about him, you felt really bad for finding him charming, sexy and interesting. You wanted to know him better, you could point out just how unique person he was by first standing and that intrigued you. Sherlock, back then, didn’t much try to approach you and actually acted very cold toward you, but as time passed he did become interested in you. The truth was that he had found you just as interesting as you had found him, but, incapable of handling feelings and emotions he tried to push you away. But when Sherlock did tell you how he felt you fought back, for Molly. You didn’t want to be that friend that steals boyfriend or a crush, though Sherlock and Molly had never dated. Time went by and Molly realized how much Sherlock cared for you, she insisted you to let him take you out and you did. Now you had been dating for almost a year with the detective and it didn’t bother Molly, she still did fancy Sherlock, yes, but would never do anything, or try anything because she knew you and him were together.

You approached Molly with long strides, your hands sway on either side of you, your shoes hitting the floor and the sound echoing loudly, but it wasn’t enough to bring Molly back from her trance. Only until you were right beside her, already talking, she jumped realizing you were there. She was holding a file in her arms, her white long jacket almost burying her form under, her hands barely showing as she held the file high, the top touching her chin. You took a stand next to her after you had greeted her and asked her, ”What’s he doing?” Molly simply nodded towards the window.

You turned to look through the glass and what you saw almost stopped your heart, the breath you took getting stuck in your throat. The reflection of your boyfriend on the other side moved fast, mirroring his movements as he kept whipping the pale lifeless body, hair falling on his face, sweat drops lining on his forehead. He was so concentrated on what he was doing that he hadn’t even noticed you, much like Molly just now. You and she stood there in silence for a minute, admiring Sherlock in his tight purple dress shirt, black jacket and trousers that hugged his body perfectly, not too tight to bother his doings.

Your eyes were captivated by the show. You pressed your thighs together, trying to evade the wetness that increased between your legs from growing, your cheeks turning pink. You could hear your own breathing, deep and long breaths. You felt ashamed that you were standing by your good friend when your boyfriend was right there, making you feel like this. The whip was drawn back then coming down in a fast swish, the end of the crop must likely echoing in the other room. Sherlock’s hair pulled back when he straightened his back, readying for another spank, then falling over his eyes when his head lowered. It took all of your efforts to move your gaze away from Sherlock and to finally concentrate on Molly, to try and be polite like a normal human being should.

”How have you been, Molly?” You asked and even if you had tried to sound as friendly and natural it didn’t show. You ended up reminding of your shy demeanor where you had only just met the woman in front of you and this was the first time talking to her which was not true. She was your closest friend. You had seen Molly repeatedly just last month. Of course these days always Sherlock being precent. ”I haven’t seen you in a while.” You gave her a warm smile to which she answered with one of her own. You started a conversation that was irrelevant to Sherlock’s on going spanking in the next room, and you kept up with it for about ten minutes. You were talking about work and Molly’s life. She had met someone who she considered worthy of her time and you cheered her to go for it, just like she had done with you on Sherlock. After those ten minutes she looked at her phone screen to see the clock and gasped. She had two missed calls and she was late from seeing this mysterious man of hers.

You put your hands comfortingly on her shoulders, promised her you and Sherlock would finish things in here while she went to change so she could clean up after Sherlock and get to her man. Molly thanked you and rushed to change, typing on her phone and then as she went to enter through a door she lifted her phone over her ear to call. You turned back to Sherlock who still kept spanking and couldn’t but freeze for another minute. He lifted his gaze, took couple of uncontrolled steps and flinched, or so it looked like, as he saw you there instead of Molly. He smirked and nodded his head, out of breath he was, to which you answered by a wave of your hand and mouthing ’Hi’ to him. He beckoned you to company him on the other side of the glass and you did as you were asked.

”Hello, Sherlock.” You smiled, closing the door behind you. The soft click heard by you both, your hand lingering on the handle while you stood near the entrance. Sherlock smirked at you and your weariness, a chuckle leaving his lips, his hands gripping the riding crop, eyes fixed on it, but not concentrated by the object. He spun on his heels, his eyes were gleaming by now, at the sight of you, and he was greatly humored  by something. He tilted his head and asked, ”Did you enjoy the show?”

”Molly needs to leave soon so better finish up what you’re doing.” You informed in an ordering tone trying to change the subject, but still held a playful smile on your lips. You walked right beside Sherlock, the room was probably a degree or two warmer than on the other side. Your steps were short, but fast enough as you approached him, not letting him grow impatient while he already waited to embrace you. He held his left hand stretched inviting you for a side hug and as you reached his arm he pulled you to his side, kissing your right temple. The riding crop was still in his right hand, his fingers gripping on it, holding it on his side and the tip of it brushing close the floor.

”I’m almost ready.” He said and his left hand’s fingers wrapped around your wrist, then a smirk spread on his lips. ”So you did enjoy the show?” That bastard just checked your pulse, you realized. ”Someone’s exited.” He stated and you looked up at his bright shining eyes and a smile he tried to keep away from spreading on his lips. His hair looked more black than dark brown in the dim light in the room you were in and it shadowed his whole face, strands of hair hanging loosely over his face. You wanted to hit him, but Sherlock pulled you closer, your hands pressed on either side of your body making it impossible for you to inform him of your opinion. You settle for a frown which wasn’t as effective as a fist to his shoulder would’ve been.

He laughed at your expression, you reminded him of an unhappy child and he rubbed your left arm with his that was still wrapped around you. He leaned closer, his breath tickling your skin, lips brushing your ear, ”There. Finished.” It came out in a choked chuckled he had tried to hide, but failed. You suspected he really even cared you had caught him finding the situation humorous, then again you didn’t even know what the situation was in the first place, so you gave him a suspicious grin, your body leaning inches away from him to your left to get a better look at him.

”You didn’t even do anything.” You pin pointed, eyebrows low and eyes slightly narrowed but not scowling, amusement clear on your features but still doubtful. You could see Sherlock smile wickedly at your statement, his head turning towards the window to see had Molly already come back but fortunately was met with a sight of an empty hallway. He laughed and pulled you close again, whispering to your ear, ”Tell me, how long had you been watching?” You answered with, ”Ten minutes or so.” Of course you weren’t hundred percent sure. Sherlock nodded in agreement and looked away again. He had had hard time looking straight back at you for some reason and you kept trying to catch his attention, but failed.

”Guess that’s enough.” Sherlock admitted to himself. He pulled away from the hug and started to get ready to leave, he took his jacket near the doorway, from a hanger as well as his scarf. He didn’t give you any answers from there on. You met Molly before exiting the hospital then headed to hail for a cab. Sherlock opened the door for you, he was smiling constantly and in very good mood. He sat right beside you in the cab, closer than usually and what he did through the whole ride gave away what he was up to. His hand was on your thigh, caressing and massaging the surface of your pants, inching higher and higher. You couldn’t stop smiling. So this was one of those days then. His eagerness surprised you, that you had to admit.

When you finally got to Baker Street, Sherlock paid the ride, rushing to open the door to his flat for you and when you went inside, he shut the door with a loud bang. You were taking your coat off when Sherlock took a stand right behind you, his front pressed firmly against your back. His breath lingered on your shoulders and you could hear him panting. He was so deliciously needy for you by now that you couldn’t help but tease him a little.

”Leave your coat and shoes, get upstairs to my bedroom and start stripping.” He growled in your ear. You knew he would get impatient in a second, but you wanted this. He had made you go through his show, now he had to go through yours. The coat you were wearing had now fallen off your shoulders, hanging on your elbows when you gazed at Sherlock over your shoulder, peeking at him sexily, biting your lower lip and asked, ”Do you want me completely naked or in my underwear?” You teased, pulling your hair back so he could see you better. He sucked air in his lungs, his eyes narrowing when he hissed, ”Everything on the floor. And don’t make me wait for another second, or I will have to punish you.” You tried to keep the chuckle in. Oh you would enjoy this.

”Are we in a hurry?” You purred, now fully facing him, on your tip toes. Your hands found their way on his shoulders, your lips touching his chin as you went to whisper, ”Are you too eager you can’t wait any longer?” That was when Sherlock snapped. He growled, lifting the riding crop to his mouth and bit on it, lowered his shoulders, his coat falling on the floor, he ripped his scarf off around his neck, that too on the floor in a blink and then he hooked his hands behind your thighs, pulling you to him, lifting you up. Your chest was pressed against his, your hands now behind his back, legs around his hips as he started to carry you upstairs. You giggled at his sudden dominance.

Sherlock carried you straight to his room, kicking the ajar door open with his foot and threw you on the bed, closing the door just as loudly as the front door. He gave you a wild, lustful look, taking the crop from his mouth and ordered you, ”Clothes off. Now.” And you did as he asked. You took your time though, giving him a show you slid your pants down with slow motion, your shirt pulled over your head, your hips swinging while you stripped. You could see the bulge in Sherlock’s pants. You bit your lip again, now taking the top that had been under your long sleeved shirt, lifting it to shield your eyes and while you were at it, Sherlock approached you fast, pulling the cloth off you and throwing it somewhere in his room. You unclasped your bra, taking it off while Sherlock went down on you. You heard him moan as he took a whiff. ”So wet for me already.” He moaned, taking your knickers, ”Just as I suspected.” then pushing you back down on his bed.

His room was dark, the only light came from through the thin and light curtains, but it wasn’t much. Then again you didn’t really care was it day light or moon light in which you fucked, just that you could see his face. You crawled back on the bed, Sherlock taking a step closer, he hungrily studied your now naked body. You lifted your head and dared to ask, ”Aren’t you going to take yours off?” That made Sherlock smile. It was one of those dominant smiles that gave you the answer. This was going to take time. You were in for a good and long play, wether you liked it or not, and Sherlock would make sure you would suffer. This wasn’t going to be one of those fair fights, but a foreplay with Sherlock was never fair. He would make sure to torture you with a long teasing. ”I don’t need to take mine off.” He chuckled. That cocky bastard.

”Shame, I would love to help.” You smirked. You made a risky move, lifting your leg up in the air, your toes touching the bulge in his pants and rubbing the fabric that shielded his cock. You looked at Sherlock daringly, about to inch closer to unbuckle his belt when he shoved your leg away with a grunt. He took a hold of your ankles, pulled at them so you were laying on your back, towering over you and whispered with a low, threatening tone, ”One more move and I will tie you to the bed, darling.” This sent a shiver down your spine, your folds pulsing. You gave out a shaky breath, not able to contain yourself. You didn’t know was that what you wanted, for Sherlock to tie you down or to just go with what he had planned already? He was already warning you and you knew he could be very ruthless towards you in bed, but you also knew when you were challenged you couldn’t back up.

You kneed his groin fast but softly enough to not hurt him. His back arched and he moaned out loud in your ear. You moved your leg, your knee rubbing his bulge. You couldn’t continue it longer than five seconds before Sherlock pulled away from you. You sat up, half disappointed how long he lasted but half amused by his angered expression. He took fast long steps, took a pair of hang cuffs from his locker and turned to you. You playfully whined and pouted. ”Aw, come now Sherlock. I was just returning the favor.” You pulled your hands behind your back as if that would stop him from cuffing you to the bed and like you had suspected, it didn’t.

”On your stomach, woman.” He ordered coldly. You knit your brows together. You knew you were in for trouble as he addressed you by ’woman’ and you felt hesitant on turning your back to him. This resulted Sherlock rolling his eyes at you, he walked over to you, took you by the shoulders and turned you over. His hands were awfully forceful and powerful and you couldn’t fight him nor did you want to. You were in a state where every move he made, every touch he gave you made you tingle. His fingers wrapped around your left wrist, cuffed it and pulled it around one of the headboards iron bars. Then he took a hold of your right wrist, securing it with the other and got up from the bed. You looked at Sherlock over your shoulder, he admired your exposed body and you could tell that you disobeying, ending you cuffed to the bed had only turned him on even more.

He took the riding crop from the floor where he had dropped it when he had helped you strip, eyeing the object dangerously interested in it. He let his fingers caress the crop, taking his time admiring the item. Your breathing started to quicken. You had never done this before and were honestly nervous by now. You knew you could deal with pain, but you had never experienced it while sex, not like this. You had to admit that you had found it hot when he had whipped the dead body back in the hospital, secretly wanted him to use it on you, but now that you were there, laying naked on your stomach ready for a beating you couldn’t help but worry.

”This is going to serve as your punishment, for starters.” Sherlock informed, his eyes now back on you. ”But only for starters as I am aware this will also turn you on even more, so do not think I am being nice to you.” He warned with a low voice. He then lifted the crop and swished it through the air, the tip hitting you hard on your left butt cheek. You chocked out a sound that was a mix of yelp, gasp and shriek. The touch of the crop was so sudden and the pain so fast like a big elastic band hitting your rear you couldn’t make out sound louder than the snap itself that echoed from the spank.

”Now, count out with me.” Sherlock instructed coldly and showed no remorse which only exited you more. ”When you are unable to feel the blows only then I will stop. That was one.” He waited, but you said nothing. He huffed in irritation, then hit you again with the crop, hearing you gasp. ”One!” He yelled and you repeated his words shortly. ”Good girl.” Sherlock cooed, pleased at your cooperation and you felt the words sink in. You were getting wet by his hits, but him dressing you like that, so dominantly made you lose your mind.

You had reached to five when Sherlock stopped. He let his hand caress your red, sensitive behind with his tender fingers. You had never imagined that the sensation that came from being hit repeatedly and then caressed could feel this good, it really felt like a reward more than a punishment. Your body shook under his touch, anticipating to get a real reward from your dominant boyfriend, but your movements back fired. Sherlock mused, ”I see you can still feel my touch.” You whined when he withdrew his hand from you and gripped the crop. He held it high, over his head and calmly said, ”Keep counting with me, love.” And he brought it down hard. Thankfully it took him only six more spanks to find you silent, not responding and he stopped. He sat beside you and started caressing your behind.

You were out of breath, your ass tingling and cheeks wet from tears. You had to admit you had liked the spanking, the crop would definitely need to stay around, but you intended that next time it would be drawn on his skin, not yours. You relaxed as much as you could on the bed, the soft blankets underneath you caressing your skin nicely, warm from your body heath. You nuzzled your head to the pillows, moaned while Sherlock treated your stinging arse.

”Spread your legs for me.” Sherlock ordered after a while of silence and this time, without any nasty remarks or witty comebacks you did as he said. You couldn’t see, but you heard from his voice that he was smirking. ”Someone has learned their lesson.” This sent a spark through you and you instantly wanted to show him just how submissive you had become, it was in your nature to keep fighting and resisting. ”Good girl.” Sherlock purred and that made all the thoughts of resistance fade. You were a slave to that word. Oh how much you loved hearing him say it.

Sherlock got closer to the between of your legs, he took the riding crop out again, holding it loosely in his hand. You reacted to his movements and went to close your legs, but Sherlock stopped you. He took a hold of your calves and kept them in place with an iron like grip. ”Don’t close them.” He warned. You forced your legs to relax and let him do what he was about to. You jumped on the bed when he brought the tip of the crop up your wet slit, gathering some of your juices to it to examine how wet you were. You heard him groan, pleased by your wetness. He then threw the crop away, it ended up on the floor far away from the bed. You smiled, thinking finally you could get you release.

Sherlock reached over your body, his breath tickling your neck and he placed his lips on your bare skin, kissing you softly. He went down your spine, his hands on both side of your waist. He lingered at your lower back, his breath warm against you, kissing and licking your skin, worshipping you. You were breathing loudly, ready for him to take, to give you your release, but Sherlock was far from that. He went back up, his lips guiding him, back to your shoulders and to your neck. His curly hair ghosted on your cheek, his hands cupping your breasts. Oh how you had needed that. He massaged your nipples with his fingers, making sure to keep you moaning.

”Please.” You moaned in between deep breaths. ”Please, Sherlock.” You gasped. Sherlock grinned. You were already begging, how sad. ”Sherlock, I can’t take this anymore, I need you.” Your voice grew louder and louder, but Sherlock kept his pace steady, horribly slow. You didn’t want him to treat you this way, not now when he had started so dominantly, turning to your gentle lover that took his time to give all your body parts equally the same amount of love. His voice surprised you. It was nothing like what his actions gave out. He almost growled in your ear, ”You think you have learned your lesson?” He asked. You were baffled. What lesson? If he didn’t mean you disobeying his orders then you had no idea what he was talking about. ”When I give you an order, I expect you to follow it. No questions asked.” Good, so you were on the same page. You nodded your head, then moaned, ”I’ll be good. I’m a good girl. I’ll do what ever you say.” An evil grin spread on Sherlock’s lips. ”That is what I am counting on.” He gave you a last kiss, then pulled away. You heard him get off the bed, starting to strip. You were about to turn on your back when Sherlock snapped, ”I didn’t tell you to move. Don’t make me punish you again, love.”

You waited as he agonizingly slowly undressed himself, he could see you twitch on the bed, your eyes taking in every new naked part of him as he pulled the clothes off. ”How does it feel?” He asked. ”To have to wait for me?” You frowned. So this was payback time? ”It’s killing me.” You whispered truthfully. Sherlock hummed in agreement. ”Good.” He stated, now finally fully naked, his wonderful cock rock hard, pointing towards you. He walked closer, you moved on the bed but not changing your position. ”Now on your fours.” He said.

”Aren’t you going to uncut me?” You asked truly surprised. You longed to touch him. You longed to turn over and kiss him, bury your finger in his hair and pull him close. You heard Sherlock chuckle. ”You didn’t really think I was done with your punishment, did you?” Your eyes flew open. He knew how much you hated to be bound to the bed when he did give you your release. So this was it. This was one of his punishments. And you had thought it had been the riding crop. Stupid you.

”I did mention knowing you would get aroused by the riding crop before. This is your real punishment. You have been a very bad girl and I think your release will be rewarding enough. No need to untie you, maybe now my naughty girl will learn.” He purred and you cursed, but just inside of your head. You knew now that you had crossed a line. Why did you have to tease him so?

”Please, Sherlock, I promise I’ll be good from now on! Just please, untie me!” You pleaded as Sherlock positioned himself behind you. He put his hands on your ass that was now in the air, your legs slightly spread. ”No. You need to become more obedient and if I am to back away from my methods you will never learn. Now, embrace your reward, love. Next time I even might let you lay on your back.” And he thrusted in. You moaned louder than expected, your hands pulling the cuffs. You were sure you would have awful bruises on your wrists by the morning.

Sherlock pulled out slowly, then thrusted back in, his nails digging deep into your flesh as he pounded into you in a way that made you scream from pleasure. He was rough with you, his right hand finding it’s way in your hair and grasping it, pulling your head back as he thrusted. It didn’t take you long to come, and Sherlock came right after you, pulling out and spreading his cum over your holes and running down your thighs. You tried to even your breathing, your head hit the pillows, Sherlock retreating from you and laying next to you, opening the cuffs for you so you could lay down next to him.

Sherlock pulled you to his embrace, hugged you and kissed you. You snuggled close to him, both of you sweaty and still out of breath. Sherlock was first to talk, ”I hope I didn’t hurt you too much.” He whispered. You shook your head. ”No, just the right amount.” You admitted. ”I really didn’t intend to be so ruthless.” Sherlock told you, but he didn’t sound so sincere as he had intended. ”It’s alright, as long as you let me use the crop next time.” You chuckled, your eyes starting to close. Sherlock laughed at that and said, ”Didn’t I tell you that next time, it will be you, once again cuffed to the bed on your back?”

”You were serious?” You asked, your eyes opening. Your boyfriend laughed at your puzzled expression. ”Of course I was serious. Your punishment is far from over.” He explained and kissed the top of your head. ”You fucking sociopath.” You sighed.