#I can bring you in warm or I can bring you in cold

[nochepsicodelica]

NSFW

Just some thoughts of you and Toji sharing a hotel room with Shiu when you go on a trip. There are two beds, you and Toji share one, and Shiu gets the other one to his mopey self, because his wife won't be there until the next day. He gets to warm the bed up on his own and he hates every minute of it, because one: he's third wheeling you and Toji, and two: you and Toji act as if he's not there when it's time to go to sleep.

"Why aren't you sleeping, pretty girl? Do I need to go down there and put you to sleep or what?" Toji murmurs.

You giggle, quietly. "Maybe. I do get pretty tired after you make me cum."

"Yeah, you do," he says, proudly. "You wet, right now, mama?" Toji asks, already unknotting the drawstrings of your shorts.

"Why don't you see for yourself?" You say, your voice too soft for what you're inviting him to do. Still, Toji bites and leans in to kiss you as his hand slides down the front of your shorts and beneath your panties. His hand meets your pelvis and continues its downward path, until his fingertips reach the messiness of your slick-ridden cunt. He teases you with barely there flicks of his fingers to your clit.

Shiu's eyes widen the slightest bit, before his eyebrows furrow. He swears he just heard a moan coming from the bundle of blankets on the right side of the room.

"Stop touching each other," he says, irritation heavy in his tone. "Jesus," he grumbles. The one time he didn't bring his headphones, the one time his wife isn't there to let him do the same things to her, that Toji is doing to you. And you both just continue to ignore him.

Your hand comes down to palm at the prominent bulge in Toji's boxers. You can feel his clothed cock twitching in your hand after every gentle squeeze you offer to the thick length.

"Fuck, don't tease me like that, doll. Touch it." His body jerks slightly when you slide your hand down his boxers and wrap it around his sticky length. "Shit, your hands are freezing," he whispers, hissing at the coldness that meets his warm skin.

"You want me to keep going or not?" You ask, teasingly, not stopping the movement of your hand as you wait for him to respond.

"Nah, nah, you're getting warmer. Keep going."

You both think you're doing so well at muffling each other's sounds of pleasure with deep kisses, but the sounds of heavier breathing and constantly rustling sheets in the otherwise steady room, are a dead giveaway to your indecent acts. Shiu has to choose between suffering by being uncomfortably hot with the blanket bundled around his head to shut out the sounds, or being comfortable and suffering with the clear sounds of your sexual antics.

"Shh," Toji hushes, when you let out a little whimper. "Just keep kissing me."

Despite how intense the sensations are, you both keep going. Toji's fingers don't stop rubbing your clit, and your hand doesn't stop gliding up and down his cock. You're both treating the act of sharing a bed as you usually do when you're alone, despite the poor man trying to sleep one bed over.

It takes hearing an uncontained high pitched gasp for Shiu to kick off his blanket and jump out of bed with a grumble. He grabs his car keys off the table and puts on his slippers, directing himself towards the door. "Going to the store. You two better be done by the time I come back."

The second the heavy door shuts, clothes are being pulled at through impatient, all consuming kisses. It gets to the point where you actually have to slow down to get them off, because you aren't making any progress, but once it's all discarded of, absolutely no time is wasted. Your legs find refuge hooked over Toji's shoulders, and his hands home to your hips and your waist. You both freely make as much noise as you want as you indulge in each other like you really are home alone. Minutes unknowingly turned into an hour and after four intense orgasms, you've tired each other out. Toji gets out of bed to grab a towel to clean you and himself up, and once the cleanup process is done, both of you fall asleep, soundly.

Shiu comes back half an hour after you both fell asleep. He's empty handed, looking a little more disheveled than when he left the room, because "going to the store" was code for sitting in his car and having phone sex with his wife. He tip toes further into the room to see if you and Toji are sleeping, and when he sees the way Toji is spooning you with his face pressed to the nape of your neck, and the way your hand rests on the arm he has slinged around your waist, he shakes his head and lets out a small chuckle.

"Rabbits."

[ddejavvu]

so i absolutely love the best friend james potter fic where he warms his hands between the reader’s thighs and the idea of him having really bad circulation just makes sense to me, so can we get a technically kinda part two but instead of between the readers thighs it’s that portion of underboob that just heats up so much for no reason whatsoever? 🙇🙇🙇

Sirius's canine form requires him to get at least twelve hours of outdoor time per week, but during the winter months it becomes a chore delegated to the least lucky of the group: take Padfoot for a walk.

"Please, Jamie?" You'd leveled James with puppy eyes that rivalled Sirius himself, and now two sets of footprints lay in the snow beside pawprints that wind around them in happy trails.

"It's bloody cold out here." James comments, like your own nose isn't burning from the temperature, "Sirius, can't you piss on trees faster?"

Padfoot, who greatly resents the tree-pissing stereotype, takes a snapping lunge at James's ankles that sends him careening into you from your left.

"James!" You shriek as your feet and his knock clumsily together, all four united in trying to stabilize you. His arm wraps around your waist and he finds his footing first, which means that you're supported by his grip as you find your own. You find yourself inches away from his face, his nose stained red akin to his cheeks as you both laugh at how you've ended up pinned to a tree in the forest. Sirius barks at you, sounding suspiciously giddy, and James drags his hands off of your back, trailing them over your stomach as he goes.

"Gonna put a muzzle on you for that one, mutt." James threatens Sirius, who dashes off to find a stick or lick a toad or whatever else his dog brain fancies at the moment. You're left trailing beside James once again, wishing that you had your own stick to drag through the snow.

"You were really warm," James reminisces, his hands surely going numb, "Like- your stomach?"

"It's my boobs," You snicker, "No matter how cold a girl gets, the space beneath her tits will always be warm."

"Really?" James peers curiously at you, "That's cool. It's like a life hack."

"Right. It's-" You stick a hand guilelessly beneath your shirt, nestling it beneath the curve of your bra, "It's not, like, sweaty or anything. Just warm."

"Fascinating." James pushes his glasses up his nose with a single outstretched finger, "Wish I had some of those."

"You can borrow mine," You concede, taking James's hand in your own and sliding it up your stomach until his hand is leeching off of the same warmth you'd felt only seconds prior, "Feel it?"

His jaw drops, one of his unruly curls bouncing stubbornly in front of his face.

"Darling, you weren't kidding! It's like an oven in here." He hums, his other hand greedily reaching for the excess space beneath your chest, "Oh my god, if I had this I'd never stop touching it."

When Padfoot returns it's to James pressing you against another tree, hands pressed firmly to the space beneath your tits. He charges for James determinedly, latching his teeth around the man's elbow and pulling with all of his might to separate his friend from you.

"Pads- ouch! She's- relax, Fido, she's let me. I'm warming my hands, thank you very much."

James manages to pry Padfoot's maw off of him, hissing at the skin surely bruised beneath his thick wool coat.

"It's alright, Sirius." You rub sweetly between the dog's ears, "His hands were cold, that's all. Don't want to bring him back to the castle with less than ten fingers."

Sirius's resulting growl towards James sounds suspiciously like he's going to lose fingers anyways, whether it be from frostbite or a dog's bite.

[pearlywritings]

Sometimes the name doesn't matter

synopsis: sometimes it matters that you are his wife. PART 3

pairings: Childe, Neuvillette, Pantalone, Wriothesley x fem!reader (separately)

tw: fluff, established relationship (married/engaged/mated), secret relationship, immortal reader in Neuvi's part

word count: 6.1k+ words

a/n: part 1 and part 2 can be read here!

Childe

Spurred by the whistles and a whip of a coachman three fine white horses are trotting along the snow-covered road, dragging a big sleigh. Made of the sturdiest wood and painted in red and gold, the construction is effortlessly sliding on ice crust, almost lulling you under all those warm blankets and furs Ajax has thrown over your half-sitting half-lying bodies. You are glad to have this instead of jolting in a carriage (not like it’ll even be able to ride through all this snow), sure to have an aching arse even under the thick sheepskin coat, and instead of whatever machinery your lover could’ve gotten his hands onto due to his position - otherwise it wouldn’t have been so romantic.

Resting your head onto his shoulder you sigh blissfully, puffing out a small cloud of warm air. The fluffy-looking firs, tall pines and naked larches are flashing past in a magical gleam of snow-covered branches; you think you see two grayish squirrels chasing one another on a tree on your left.

“Oh, little minxes. A couple of seconds later and that snow could’ve ended up on our heads.”

You giggle at the young man’s comment, taking your gloved hand out of the sable muff and reaching to adjust the hat with earflaps (which he once again refused to tie under his chin) on his head. Before you can retrieve, a bigger hand clad in mitten wraps around yours and brings it to the chapped pale lips. As if spellbound you watch him press a tender kiss just where your ring finger joins the palm - right where the engagement ring is hidden under the thick material.

Now it’s hard to tell if your cheeks are rosy from cold or the swirling emotions.

“A little bit more and we will be in Morepesok,” he says softly, deep pools of his blue eyes staring back at you adoringly. “I can’t wait to share the news with ma, pa, sisters and brothers…”

You know he’s written them a letter right after you said ‘yes” to him, too excited to wait. So excited in fact, that he couldn’t sit still in expectation for the response, so he solicited an impromptu week-long vacation with the help of Pulcinella, and here you are, on your merry way to his home village.

“I can’t wait for that too,” you smile, leaning up to peck his nose, eliciting the same smile from him. “But I worry a little - will they be happy for us? I mean, that it’s me who you are going to marry?”

“Absolutely!” He nods enthusiastically and you have to readjust his hat again. “They all love you very much, I promise you. And if I am being completely honest, mom and Tonia did keep asking me when I intended to make you my wife during the last couple of times we visited.”

“Wait, really? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I was already planning a proposal at the time - didn’t want to spoil it by accidentally letting my tongue loose.”

It’s hard to believe that this man is one of the Tsaritsa’s Harbingers. Childe is surprisingly good at separating his work and off work behavior, turning into a completely normal, maybe just a tiny bit unhinged, young man as soon as his family is involved. You know he’s built this facade to keep them and you away from harm, but you also know it comes from the heart as well.

“Then I can only hope we can bring the female members of your family to the capital soon - I want them to participate in the wedding dress shopping.”

You are immediately gathered into a tight embrace and your laughter is smothered by the fur on his collar. Yes, he is the Eleventh Harbinger, Tartaglia, Tsaritas’s soldier, Childe… But in moments like this he is just Ajax. Your Ajax.

His parents’ house meets you both with the quiet creak of the gates, the barking of two big fluffy malamutes outside, the clink of the horseshoe against the wood on top of the front door, the warmth of a well-heated inside and a bit taller than the last time you saw him Teucer, who runs full speed at his big brother, practically tackling him.

“Big brother is home, big brother is home!”

Ajax joyously laughs, somehow managing to take off his coat and dropping it to the colorful carpet at the front door before hoisting the exclaiming boy into his arms. Kicking off your felt boots to step from the anteroom, you watch with a smile as he squeals when your lover presses his cold cheek to the warm smaller one, squirming in the strong arms. 

Not a minute later more of his siblings appear, closely followed by their mom - freckled, with her ginger with gray hair tied in a thick braid and an apron thrown over her green dress, the woman smiles brightly and, letting her children surround their brother, walks to you with arms spread, ready to embrace you.

“Mother, my clothes might be cold,” you try to warn her, but she doesn’t listen, hugging you anyway.

“As if it can affect me! Oh, I’m so happy to see you, my dear. How was your trip? Are you tired, hungry? I’m almost done with lunch, and in the meantime I can ask my husband to throw in the firewood and heat the bathhouse for you two.

“It’s very kind of you,” you smile, wrapping your arms to give her a hug in return. “But I think we’ll wash up in the evening - I really doubt Ajax’s sibling will let him go in the following couple of hours.”

Before she can say anything, a tall, wide man appears from the other room. His beard and hair are gingerly brown with gray too, thick brows naturally furrowed. By the rosy cheeks, the remnants of snowflakes melting on his hair and the choice of clothing you guess he’s just returned to the house through the back door - probably after chopping wood.

Upon lowering his gaze to you, his facial features smooth out.

“If it isn’t my son and a dear soon-to-be daughter-in-law!” His gruff voice booms across the house, immediately redirecting everyone’s attention to you and making you blush. “I knew Ajax was too impatient and would rather come to visit and bring his fiance along than wait for a response letter.”

As he moves to greet you properly and help with discarding the outer clothes, you notice your gingerhead whispering something to his siblings, to which they giggle and throw glances at you. Catching the gaze of your lover, you lift an eyebrow, as if asking ‘should I be concerned?”. But he only shakes his head with a smile and ushers everyone to the dining room.

However, the curiosity is getting better of you, as throughout the evening you keep catching the glances, watch Tonia whispering something to her mom, and the woman giving Ajax a ‘really?’ kind of look, but with a fond smile, and then his dad slapping his back with a boisterous laugh, saying something along the lines ‘I was the same way with your mom too’.

So you confront him once you are left alone in the room.

“Hey, foxy, what’s going on?”

“Hm?” He lowers the blanket that he’s just tucked inside the duvet cover and reaches for the sheets. “What do you mean, bunny?”

“Whatever you’ve been doing,” you put one of the pillows down and reach out for the other as well as the pillowcase. 

“And what’s that ‘whatever’ I’ve been doing?” You don’t miss the sly smile finding its way onto his face. You huff.

“I don’t know. You tell me.”

The man hums, tucking the edges of the sheet between the mattress and the bed.

“Nothing you should worry about. I just asked them all to practice a little.”

“Practice?’ Cocking your head, you throw both pillows onto the bed. “Wait, did you start planning something for the wedding?”

“Not quite. Rather for after it.”

Confused, but intrigued, you step closer when your lover sits down and beckons you, being dragged into his lap a second later. Blue eyes look at you in an unspoken fascination, as he leans forward to place a kiss to the corner of your mouth, prompting you to loosely wrap your arms around his shoulders.

“Since we are getting married, I deduced that it would be only right for my family to call you my wife. Thus I asked them to get acquaintanced with the term, so they could start doing it as soon as we are pronounced husband and wife.”

You blink at him once, twice. After the third time you exhale, shaking your head, but the lift of your lips doesn’t go unnoticed by your fiance.

“I should’ve known you’d pull something like this, I am not even surprised, let alone mad. But they could just keep addressing me by my name. Plus your siblings already call me ‘big sister’ and your parents made me an honor of acknowledging me as the ‘daughter’. It won’t change much.”

“But it will!” He pouts and you can’t resist the urge to pinch his cheek. “You will be my wife and I want everyone to help me show it! Does it bother you though?”

Looking into those uncharacteristically begging eyes, you really can’t deny him his little antics. Not like you were going to in the first place.

“No, no, I don’t mind, love. Honestly, it's very sweet how excited you are. Makes me look forward to it.”

“Yeah?” Look at him, smiling like a satisfied cat, who's had too much sour cream for its own good. His embrace tightens on you a little.

“Yeah.”

A beat of silence passes as Ajax enjoys the many kisses you pepper to his face, squeezing his eyes shut, grinning, boyishly eager for more.

“Do you think I should ask the whole village to do the same?”

“Ajax, no.”

Nuevillette

“Mother, do you mind helping me a little? I can’t reach over there…

“I’d be delighted, my dear.”

Neuvillette watches with a fond look as you put the tea cup down and stand up to walk closer to Verenata and assist her with whatever the potion maker needs. Your figure is ethereal, clad in the finest fabrics, flowing with every step and gently dropping as you crouch gracefully to hoist the melusine in your arms. From above the rim of his silver goblet the Hydro Dragon can't tear his eyes from the way one of your many “daughters” wraps an arm around your neck and reaches up, while the corner of your lips, which he can see from his position at the table, is turned upwards.

“Mother is so kind and patient,” Laume says just a step away from Neuvillette’s chair. When the man turns his head to look at her, there is Flo standing too.

“Yes, and she is so beautiful,” the other melusine sighs, clasping her hands together. “And she always brings us such nice and comfortable clothes…”

“Monsieur Neuvillette married a wonderful woman,” a couple more melusines nearby agree and there is a warm and fuzzy feeling takes place in the Judex’s chest.

Marriage… Such a beautiful concept humans came up with to validate the union of two. It begins with the wedding - a day full of happy tears and blissful smiles, shared vows to be together in sickness and in health, sweet claims of love and promises of joyful life ahead. Then this very life begins and for beings like you and your husband it’s a long, but welcome trip.

You’ve been claimed by each other for quite some time before the more ‘mortal appropriate’ ritual, and the melusines - the wonderful creatures Neuvillette once took under his wing - were aware and happy for your relationship. And it was actually their idea to hold a wedding too, once Sigewinne naturally asked how the two of you planned to introduce your bond in civil words to humans.

And it was their initiative to start calling you “mother”. With your actions you quickly became one for them anyway, and the girls actively sought your company when it was possible. Thus, such tea parties at the Merusea Village as today are a common occurrence (besides, you always welcome them because it's a great opportunity to dig your husband out of the pile of responsibilities he tends to bury himself under).

However, lately Neuvillette started noticing that when he heard the word leave the girls’ mouths, a strange feeling began rising in his chest. Even though not quite familiar with the concept of jealousy, the Judex was sure it was not the case - he loved when the melusines called you that. So, he could not really put his finger on why the action caused such an indescribable reaction.

He decided to observe. On his walks throughout the city, the man seeked the sights of parents with children to attentively listen and watch while leisurely passing by or stopping at the shopping booths to linger on the scene. He was quick to note that the interactions were hardly different from the ones between you and the girls - kids would call for their mothers in all the same tones: when happy, when asking for help, when seeking comfort and many other typical occurrences he’d seen a handful of times before.

What really caught Neuvillette’s eye was the way the parents behaved. And soon his focus shifted to the married couples instead. As reserved as the nobles seemed to appear, the ones in love still managed to slip a murmured ‘my dear’, or ‘beloved’ or ‘my sweet [Name]’ in their speech. All the things the Hydro Dragon was all too used to call you too, relishing in the image of your loving smile and joyfully crinkling eyes as you responded in kind.

But it is like a waterfall pours on him when a week later, after that tea party where he once again sunk deep in thought, a keen pointy ear makes out a simple word in the crowd.

"Wife"

Male’s heart flutters. The understanding quickly dawns on him, even more so when his eyes find the couple on the other side of the road, - it was no simple term to introduce the partner to the third party. No, the tenderly spoken word was used by that man to address his lover, to softly draw her attention to him, to remind her he is happy she is holding such a position in his life…

At least that’s what kind of puzzle pieces together in Neuvillette’s head. The couple is long gone, yet he is still standing there, hand resting on the handle of his cane and eyes staring into space.

He starts to remember all the sweet names he called you, each and every one stored in his memory with the heart-warming images of your reactions. There are all kinds of those: my love, my pearl, lizzy (affectionate from ‘lizard’; you used to tell him that dragons are just big lizards and it kinda stuck), kisses-stealer, fairy-tail nymph… The man is surprisingly creative with his words when it comes to you.

Sure, he calls you his mate, quite often too, but to his chagrin it has never occurred to him that he could call you ‘his wife’ too! It’s so simple, so absurdly logical, yet it took him weeks to figure out.

Humans are truly fascinating.

When Neuvillette returns to his office in the Palais Mermonia you are already there, lazing on a sofa with a bunch of papers, in which your husband guesses the script of probably another upcoming play of Furina. And judging by the more than a half pages turned you’ve been waiting for him for a while.

When the door closes and the cane disappears in the myriad of sparkling bubbles, you lift your gaze, and a smile immediately lights up your lovely features.

”Neuvi,” You speak softly, getting on your feet and leaving the script behind, “I hoped we’d depart on the afternoon stroll together. So imagine my disappointment when Sedene told me you had left just ten minutes ago! Oh, I knew I’d be late if Lady Furina had kept me for another minute, yet I still hoped I’d be on time…”

As you are approaching him, the Judex remembers the melusine’s words upon arrival: “Mother waits inside”. This makes all his previous thoughts resurface, and when he meets you half-way and reaches for both your hands to place a kiss to the back of each, Neuvillette has half a mind to try out his new discovery.

“Our Archon enjoys your company a lot, and, knowing you, you are not really mad,” you roll your eyes playfully, tiptoeing to peck the tip of his nose, murmuring a quiet ‘hush, let me be a tiny bit indignant’. “And I’d be honored to keep you company for the evening stroll,” and then, after a little pause of hesitation, he adds, “wife.”

He watches as the previously present smile on your face grows even bigger, but after a couple of seconds starts to fade slowly, eyes squinting a little bit to stare at him in hardly-concealed curiosity.

“What was that?”

“What was what, dear wife?”

“This!” As if to emphasize your words you point your finger to his mouth, and it’s Neuvillette’s lips’ turn to curl in a small smile.

“It’s something I hoped to discuss with you,” his gloved fingertips soothingly brush over your knuckles and soon your hand is clasped into his, as the man leads you both back to the sofa. “You see,” he starts when you sit down, “I am fascinated with the notion hidden behind the word ‘mother’ the melusines like to call you. That’s who you are for them both in reality and in terms. I’ve made some observations, and figured that sometimes humans in marriage also use the…familial terms to address one another. It seemed lovely to me and I wanted to try it out with you. What do you think?”

You hum in thought, replaying in your head the way Neuvillette spoke to you twice. It is hard to explain, but you somehow immediately see the appeal and understand why your lover got hooked on it. Seems lovely indeed. You wonder, what if you…

“Will you tell me more about those observations on our evening stroll, husband? Ooh, it does sound wonderful!”

Mark him stunned, but for a moment Judex grows speechless. The violet depths of his eyes swirl with adoration as you clap your hands gleefully, and he knows, that from now on your everyday routine will never be the same

“With pleasure, wife.”

Pantalone

Dancing snowflakes are slowly descending in their tender waltz and are gleaming like the tiniest of gems in the streetlights’, enveloping the already magical winter capital of the Cryo region in a solemn atmosphere. The white cover of the ground is crunching with every step of a passerby and every wheel rotation of the fancy-looking carriages, while the street is a jumble of fur coats and heavy military overcoats, finally breathing life into the afternoon-quiet city.

It’s a wonderful evening, too marvelous to spend it at home, too enchanting to miss the new ballet at the Bolshoy Theater, the true accumulation of the Tsaritsa’ nation’s nobility and intelligentsia. The wonder of Snezhnayan architecture is both the place to rest and enjoy the purest form of art and home to many gossip circulating in society. Some fresh and just hours old, some ancient and undying, like the topic of the Ninth Harbinger’s lovers.

Lord Pantalone is well-known and often-praised for his contribution to the Snezhnaya’s economy, along with extending the Fatui influence all across the Teyvat. But also he is quite famous for the women he appears in public with. It’s always someone new, it’s never the same one as before. Different shapes, different hair, different style - it is impossible to guess the raven-haired man’s tastes. However everybody knew - the Harbinger never entertained the company of the ladies who made attempts to catch his attention. Those ladies themselves say as much.

The Regrator’s companions never open their mouths, never utter a word - at least not when there are people around. There has never been a single name, never a remembered face - all women wear the mask covering the upper half of it, concealing the identity of yet another lucky choice of the rich man. 

Never the same woman - always the same mask.

This evening does not disappoint the gathered crowd - lifting their gazes, directing attention to the Harbinger’s personal box, they once again see the notorious mask. The long fringe of wine-red hair is coquettishly framing the ever-lasting piece of leather, similarly flaming lips are tugged in a haughty smile - as if the young lady doesn’t realize that once the night is over, she’s going to be discarded like many others before her. The dress according to the latest fashion trends and the beautiful garnet necklace do not surprise the audience anymore - even known for his love for replacements, Lord Pantalone dresses his partners royally.

The man himself has chosen yet another black costume, with a dark burgundy shirt hidden underneath and bird-shaped garnet brooch on the left side of his chest. Multiple beautiful rings catch the light when he lifts his gloved hand to adjust diamond-shaped glasses, before turning his head and addressing something to his tonight’s escort. She boisterously laughs, saying something in response, but even if attendants tried to strain their ears, they wouldn’t hear anything so far away. Even harder it gets when the third ring of the bell echoes across the theater chamber and both the Harbinger and the woman are forgotten, until the performance is over.

So no one sees when the ring-decorated hand reaches for a smaller female one, fingers sliding under the chintz-covered palm, thumb immediately reaching to tug on the hem of the glove, so the thin cool lips could press against the small patch of bared skin. A glimpse of a smile is what Pantalone gets when you glance at him with amusement playing on your lips.

Always the same mask, never the same woman, huh? 

Pride has long slithered into your heart, yet it still lifts its snake-like head every time your act of decisiveness succeeds, happily hissing. Every time it’s a test of your skills, a gamble with the eyes of ones around you, and every time you hit the jackpot, leaving the people guessing, staying the only one in possession of the banker despite the speculations.

As long as Her Majesty Tsaritsa is aware of your existence and the place you occupy next to Pantalone, you are free to do anything you want with his reputation relationship-wise. And he allows it, because should you desire the whole world - he’ll throw it to your feet like the cheapest trinket. One would say it’s because he is prideful too - he knows it’s because he loves his wife.

Loves to the point of entertaining the masquerades she stages whenever the two of you need to appear in public. It plays wonderfully into his possessive nature and desire to keep his precious beautiful wife to himself and helps with the enemies - “changing the ladies” minimizes the chances of putting at risk his one and only. Not like many know of you in the first place.

It’s a win-win arrangement for you as well - there is still an opportunity to cling to his arm, to use his expensive cologne, to play with the rings on his fingers and sneakily make out in a dark corner where no one can see. To be tugged into his lap in the carriage on the way back to his mansion, to have his long fingers undo the strings of the mask, and once the piece of leather falls onto the floor, have the palms slide down the sides of your neck, swiftly fiddling with the heavy necklace, only to let it be, the caress the shoulders, pushing the sleeves down… 

…to leave them at the elbows and grab your arms to push your back into his chest as the warm lips press to the juncture between the neck and the shoulder.

And what if you’ve lost your name in the process of this disguising? Having been an actress a long time ago made you used to it. But isn’t it fun to come up with the new ideas for your next performance? Your husband gifts you way too many dresses and jewelry sets - you must find use to all of them! He now has to simply spend a bit more on the wigs and makeup to fit each combination of fabric and gems.

“Did my wife have a pleasant evening?” The velvet voice of the man behind you caresses the ear and you meet his gaze in the full-size mirror in front of you. Amethyst eyes sparkle in the bedroom light and you smile coquettishly, red lips stretching seductively.

“Did she? How could I know?” You tease, reaching to your back to undo the corset, just to be stopped by his hands, fingers digging into the dozens of strings. “And don’t you know, Mr Harbinger, that it’s very offending for the woman, when the man speaks about another lady in her presence?”

“Oh, I wasn’t aware,” he muses, tugging a bit harsher on the ties and making you gasp, “that my dear wife can be jealous of herself.”

“When you know her poorly. Tsk-tsk, what a bad husband you are.”

Pantalone laughs behind you, shaking his head at your untrue words, and you reach to your head to remove the fiery wig. By the time Pantalone is done with your corset, you are done letting your naturally beautiful locks down, sighing in relief from both the released ribcage and hair roots.

The dress, having lost its vital support on your body, falls to the ground next to the wig and quickly becomes forgotten as you two step away from the mirror.

Your husband is still mostly clothed, having only eased out of his coat and unbuttoned the jacket, so you busy your hands with tugging the black article off and then reaching for the gleaming tiny buttons on the shirt. Your figures bask in the warm light of the room as you continue undressing the man - your eyes concentrated on the expensive fabrics, his - on the lovely expression of your face.

“But if you must know,” Pantalone raises his brow, when you look up at him, a much sincere and tender smile lighting up your visage, “your wife loved the evening very much.”

And that’s everything he’s ever wanted to hear. Fingers tangle in your hair, you harshly inhale, and his lips are on yours. Lipstick is smudging, your fingers accidentally catch the silver chain, and his glasses get slightly askew, but it doesn’t matter. His wife loved another thing he’s done for her. The banker’s day has ended in a great profit.

Wriothesley

Fortress of Meropide is a huge metal labyrinth of floors and corridors, where noise is never-ending even in the late hours of the night. The metal box which is the Duke’s office however, is constructed to mute the annoying sounds or else the one inside would have a very hard time concentrating.

Usually, even the ruckus happening outside and the clanking of the heavy machines underneath can’t sway Wriothesley’s attention if he has his mind set on doing the paperwork, even something as boring as bills. Today, however, the man has caught himself multiple times glancing at the clock he’s hung up a couple of years ago - there is no way to tell the time all the way down underwater, true, but it serves him a greater purpose. It helps him count hours and minutes before you arrive.

Tuesdays and Thursdays are the days when you take a half of the day off to come down to the Fortress to meet up with your husband. You both quickly realized that traveling back and forth together in either of the directions (fortress or home in the city) would be way too inconvenient. So, you improvise by visiting him throughout the week a couple of times and then he comes home to properly spend the weekend, having learnt to delegate his responsibilities to the most trustworthy guards. So far you’ve been extremely pleased with the arrangement, and the Fortress’s crew have learnt your face by heart to not cause you any obstacles in reaching your beloved’s office.

Today, nevertheless, something must’ve gone wrong. Pale blue eyes are practically drilling the minute hand of the previously mentioned clock, watching it moving further and further from the tiny 10-minute bar, which should’ve marked your appearance at the top of his stairs. And he gets it, everything could’ve happened, something as trivial as the queue at the pastry shop that might’ve gotten longer today, but when the delay surpasses the half-hour mark, the warden puts his fountain pen down and follows it by the creak of the chair legs on the metal floor.

As he descends down the stairs - each clunking under the heavy soles of his boots - a fleeting thought of you stopping by at the medical bay first is immediately brushed aside - his office is right on the path of entering the Fortress’s main body, and you love your husband too much to let him sulk in his longing. 

When he pushes the colossal doors open, eyes instantly start searching the area ahead of him. However, nothing unusual is spotted - two guards are standing at the front of his abode, not even flinching at the unpleasant scraping noise the metal makes; a couple of inmates are walking past them, bowing their heads right as they see the appearing the figure of their warden - Wriothesley simply nods and sends them off with a flicker of his hand; then there is Monglane’s desk with its irreplaceable owner. And no trace of his beloved wife.

Closing the doors behind him, Wriothesley comes up to the guards, inquiring if they’ve happened to see you. Getting a negative response, he hums and starts walking forward, to the corridor leading to the elevator, not bothering with asking the very same questions to Monglane.

With every passing minute, especially while waiting for the elevator, the man starts realizing how impatient he is growing, if the tapping of his foot and crossed arms are not an indicator enough. Even with just one day apart, he’s missed you so awfully much, your adoring smile, your soft voice and cute little giggles, that he feels rightfully robbed since you are not yet in his embrace, showering his face with kisses and then whining pretentiously because he’s forgotten to shave once again. Sometimes you swear he is not a big bad wolf, but a mean huge hedgehog.

He almost stomps inside the cabin the second its doors slide open and pushes the button to the reddening of his fingertip. It is a long trip up to the next level, and he admits he’s tugged on his leather straps wrapped around his arms a couple of times, but Archons, how little it all matters, when, exiting the elevator, he finally hears such a familiar voice. Your voice.

Your husband’s legs carry him like they obtained a mind of their own, following the full of amusement lilt he knows can belong only to you, just to come to a halt next to the wooden boxes piled up on the side of the path. 

He can see you, quite clearly, adorned in a cute pair of pants and a shirt, shoulders covered in a crocheted shawl - always ready for the cool air of the Fortress, yet looking so comfy, that Wriothesley can't help but desire to tackle you to the sofa in his office and cuddle this instant. And he would've done just that, if the conversation you've been having didn't catch his attention.

“No, it's wrong again. It's not Britney, it's Brytnneigh.

“But you are saying the same thing!"

"No, it is not B-r-i-t-n-e-y. It's B-r-y-t-n-n-e-i-g-h."

"Slower, please."

In the second voice the warden easily guesses a new guard that has just been employed a couple of days ago. He remembers signing the papers his weekend substitute brought him on Monday. Wriothesley also remembers how the man swore that he’d passed on to the newbie all the information and training he needed to know. But, it appears, he forgot to mention the most important thing…

“Did you make sure to write my name with two N’s?” Your voice is laced with hardly concealed mirth, and, though he can’t see the face of the guard talking to you, your husband is sure the poor young man looks quite miserable.

“Yes, mademoiselle, I did.”

“Wonderful, but it’s ‘madame’, I am a married woman after all. But no worries, I am flattered you think I look so young,” Wriothesley shakes his head with a silent chuckle. He adores you so much, but maybe it really is time to stop your little play of a new inmate, or else he’ll surely have to call for Sigewinne to check on the poor guard.

“And your last name, madame?”

“I am Brytnneigh Deirdrophnea de Troistêtesloup. Do you want me to spell it for you, dear?”

Yes, he really should stop you.

Before you can open your mouth again, you see in your peripheral vision a figure moving. Upon turning your head slightly, you are graced with the sight of your beloved husband, walking towards you with a quirked thick brow, and crossed arms. All you can do is sheepishly smile, waving at him.

“O-oh! Duke Wriothesley, Sir!” The guard behind the registration desk immediately jumps to his feet, squaring his shoulders and saluting at the arrival of his superior.

“At ease, young man,” Wriothesley nods, stepping even closer, practically invading your personal space, icy blue eyes looking at you unblinkingly. “What is going on here?”

“Nothing much, Mr Warden,” your eyes crinkle in the corners, a sight so infectious, that the man’s lips turn into a small smile. “Just a cute old me, ending up in the Fortress for Archon knows what time.”

“M-madame!” The guard exclaims rather loudly, that even your husband turns to look at him. “Even if it's not your first stay here, you shouldn’t be taking liberties with the Duke!”

“No, no, it’s alright,” Wriothesley raises his hand. “She is no longer your headache-”

“Hey!” You elbow his side to the bewilderment of the guard. In his shock he doesn’t even reach for his weapon.

“-I will personally escort this troublemaker inside. And cross out that abominable name out, would you? It’s not her name.”

“It’s not..?” Now Wriothesley really sympathizes with the guy, he looks utterly lost.

“It’s not. But,” a big scarred hand gently cups you under the chin and turns your head more properly towards the guard, “be sure to remember this adorable face very well for the next time. You’ll need that to let her in and out.”

“...out?”

“Yes, indeed. This woman is my wife.”

As the elevator doors slide close and the cabin starts moving down, you turn to Wriothesley and throw your arms around his wide frame, face burying into his chest.

“Are you proud of me for coming up with such a long and difficult name in a single thought?”

“Oh, for sure,” strong arms circle your waist and chapped lips press to the top of your head, “I bet you would be hard-to-catch if you were a criminal. But why did you decide to play such a prank on a poor man?”

“Well… I just wanted to see his face when he found out that I am the wife of the Duke of the Fortress of Meropide himself. Another reason is that there was no guard who knew my face and I doubt he would’ve believed my word. I just got creative with the way of making him summon someone else. You simply got here before anything could happen. Plus, it’s good to keep them on their toes with a job like that. Besides, I did apologize and praise him for his patience.”

At that Wriothesley just sighs and then chuckles, raising one of his hands and threading his fingers through your hair, pressing your head even closer to his chest. He is not even feeling iffy about the lost half an hour of your time together anymore. Because you gave him an opportunity to introduce you as his wife once again.

[p0orbaby]

hii could I maybe request an alexia fic where you bring her to one of the german Christmas markets of your hometown and make her try different food and the famous mulled wine (just lots of fluff coziness pls 🥹) ale being a sucker for keeping your lips warm by kissing them

-

The Christmas market smells like sugar, spice, and the kind of nostalgia you wish you could bottle. String lights hang above in tangled webs, dripping amber light onto the cobblestone streets, while the air crackles with frost and the distant hum of Christmas carols played by a mediocre brass quartet.

You’ve barely stepped onto the main thoroughfare when Alexia stops, head tilted, taking it all in. Her cheeks are already pink from the cold, her gloved hands stuffed deep into her pockets.

“Is it always like this?” she asks, her accent curling softly around the words.

“Every year,” you reply. “Wait until you see the giant bratwurst stand”

Her lips quirk up at the corner. “You’re really selling it”

“Trust me, it’s iconic”

You lead her through the crowd, weaving between parents tugging kids in sledges and couples huddling close, their breath fogging in the chill. Alexia keeps her hand on the small of your back, steering you instinctively around every wayward shoulder and rogue pram. You’d find it annoying if it wasn’t so her.

The bratwurst stand is as dramatic as promised: a hulking structure with smoke pouring out of its chimney and a six-foot inflatable sausage bobbing on the roof. Alexia stares at it for a long moment, then turns to you, deadpan.

“Iconic,” she repeats, though her mouth twitches with barely restrained laughter.

You grin, grabbing her hand and pulling her towards the line. “Wait until you taste it”

When she takes her first bite, she moans softly, her eyes fluttering shut. “Okay. You win”

“I always do,” you say, smug.

She rolls her eyes but doesn’t argue, too busy devouring the rest of her bratwurst.

Next is the mulled wine. You hand her a steaming mug, the scent of cloves and citrus wafting up. She blows on it delicately, watching the tendrils of steam curl away. When she takes her first sip, her eyes widen, and she licks her lips.

“This is…” she pauses, searching for the word. “Perfect”

You take a sip of your own, the warmth sliding down your throat, and hum in agreement.

She leans in then, her lips brushing your ear. “Your lips are cold.”

You glance at her, eyebrow raised. “Subtle”

Alexia shrugs, utterly unbothered. “I’m keeping them warm”

Before you can respond, she kisses you. It’s soft, lingering, the taste of mulled wine and bratwurst mingling in a way that shouldn’t work but somehow does. When she pulls back, she looks entirely too pleased with herself.

“You’re ridiculous,” you mutter, though you can’t help smiling.

“And you love it,” she replies, stealing another sip of your wine.

The rest of the evening is a blur of lights and laughter. You make her try roasted chestnuts (“Like warm, edible rocks,” she declares) and Schmalzkuchen, the powdered sugar leaving smudges on her scarf. She insists on buying a ridiculous hand-carved ornament for your tree—a lopsided angel with one wing noticeably shorter than the other.

By the time you leave, your cheeks hurt from smiling, your hands are frozen despite your gloves, and Alexia has kissed you approximately ten more times under the guise of “keeping your lips warm.”

[66stitches]

naked cuddling with abby

⛤ My Abby headcanons made me want to write this so here it is

⛤ daily click ꩜ palestine masterpost ꩜ tlou and israel

⛤ Cw: just tooth rotting fluff

⛤ divider creds

The chill of autumn’s air entered through your open windows, the only thing protecting you from the cold, granting warmth to your skin and within, was Abby’s soft arms wrapped around your bare torso.

You were pressed up against each other, laid above your soft mattress which smelled faintly of Abby’s shampoo, wearing nothing but your skin.

It was something you both insisted on: going to sleep completely naked. The intimacy of your bare skin against hers never ceased to bring your stolen heart aflutter.

“I love you,” you mumbled drowsily and wrapped your arms tighter around her body with whatever might you could manage in your state of somnolence.

She looked beautiful like this, you thought. All heavy-eyed and tired. The room was dark, the only source of light coming from the pale moon which hit her face in all the right ways to make her appear more like a deity in your eyes.

“I love you back,” Abby replied with the same amount of drowse, running her fingers across your bare back and arms, bringing goosebumps to your skin.

You held her close enough to feel her soft breath against your face, your bodies so entangled with each other you feared they might just meld into one another.

“‘Love you so much,” she continued. She pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose.

“My beautiful girl.” Another kiss, this time to your lips.

“You are everything I have dreamed of and more, and even then my dreams are nothing in comparison.” She pressed a sleepy kiss to your cheek, then another one to your lips, keeping it there.

Your heart swelled with the love it held for her. It was an overwhelming feeling, one that nearly brought you to tears.

But instead of weeping, you closed your eyes and kissed her back. Her soft, pouty lips fit yours perfectly, as if your lips were molded just to fit one another’s.

Your lips separated then. You pushed your body further against hers (as if there was any room to do so at that point), needing to feel more of her. She giggled breathily at the action and wrapped her leg around your waist. You could feel nearly every inch of each other’s skin against your own.

You pressed soft kisses to each other’s skin, and that’s how it was until you were overtaken by slumber, and it’s how it remained until you awoke, still wrapped up in each other’s limbs, the warm sunlight cascading down onto your bodies.

a/n: can u tell i’m touch starved. Also I’m literally writing this like fifteen minutes before my exam. Ok gotta run good luck to me

[ofbatsandballads]

darling, won’t you take me home?

jason todd x fem!reader

word count: 1.2k

warnings: reader has a mild cold, but nothing much else (lmk if I missed anything)

a/n: this is just a lighthearted sick fic that got real prose-y at the end bc I was listening to my Jason playlist and got all in my feelings while drowsy off cold medicine. again, i give thee my wares.

divider credit: saradika-graphics

You wake to soft light filtering in through the white curtains of your bedroom and the warm weight of your lover’s arm across your waist. The quiet snores echoing in the air and the soothing rise and fall of his chest against your back would usually be enough to lull you into a gentle morning sleep. But usually you can breathe out of both sides of your nose. And you usually don’t feel like there’s sandpaper in your throat. And your body doesn’t usually feel this heavy.

Goddamn it–you’re sick.

You feel a sneeze coming on and try to stifle it, to keep it locked tight in your lungs so you won’t wake the love of your life from the rare bit of peace and quiet he gets. You make no noise, but the shaking of your body stirs him anyway. Damn vigilantes and their preternatural awareness. He hums lazily as he pulls you further into his chest. You think he might be able to doze back off and you’re glad for it. Then your hopes are dashed. One, two, three sneezes wrack your body in succession and you are finally forced to admit defeat.

“Are you sneezing?” Jason asks, groggy but inquiring.

“…no.”

You don’t even know why you tried to lie to him. You’re a bad liar in most cases, and an absolutely abysmal liar when it comes to Jason. He simply sighs and you’d bet twenty dollars that he’s rolling those pretty seafoam eyes of his. He easily turns you in his arms so that you’re facing him. Great, now you really won’t be able to lie to him.

“I told ya that you were gettin’ sick,” he scolds gently.

“‘M not sick!”

He did. And you are.

“Then why do you sound like the Swedish Chef from the Muppets?”

“Oh, fuck you!”

He tries to keep his face serious, but soon the facade cracks and he lets out a deep belly laugh as you glare at him. You push yourself out of his arms and make it as far as the edge of the bed before he’s pulling you back to him again.

“Aw, c’mon, ma. Don’t be mad. You are sick. Just admit it,” he says, voice kind as he runs his hand up and down your spine.

“Okay. Fine. Whatever,” you mumble, your words trailing off unintelligibly.

Jason doesn’t miss it. He never does. Fucking vigilantes and their fine tuned hearing.

“What was that?” he smirks.

You whisper it again, quiet as a mouse. He shakes his head. You smack him in the chest.

“Ah ah, I wanna hear it,” he laughs.

“I said you were right! There! You happy now?” you pout, burying your head in his chest.

You can feel the giggles travel through his body and find it impossible to fight the smile it brings to your face, even if your head feels foggier than Gotham after a heavy rain. You squeeze him tight, a sudden aggressive love for him that you just need to let out. It does nothing to his strong frame. He just squeezes you back, then manhandles your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. He rises from your bed like you weigh nothing to him, hefting you into the air so that you’re better positioned.

“C’mon, we’re makin’ soup.”

One thing about Jason Todd is that he’s an amazing cook. He didn’t cook much for himself before he met you. He’s told you he didn’t see any point when cheap takeout would fuel his body just fine for whatever fight was inevitably coming for him. But now he has both the reason and the time to care. And he cares. So much.

You can see it in the way he sets the chicken to bake while he tells you about the new book he got from the bookstore down the block. You can see it in the way his skilled hands, calloused and bruised, slice the carrots razor thin because he knows you hate the crunch of them. You can see it in the barely noticeable look of pride on his face as all the ingredients simmer in the big metal pot, giving your shared home a warm aroma of comfort. You can see it in the fact that everything he needed for this was already in your kitchen, in the fact that none of it was there when you fell asleep last night while he was on patrol. Jason cares. He cares from the tip of the stubborn curl that sticks up on the top of his head to the soles of his feet that guide you in a slow waltz around the kitchen.

“I know you probably aren’t too hungry, but I need you to try to eat at least one bowl for me,” he says in his gentlest negotiation voice as he puts a bowl of chicken noodle soup on the counter.

You nod your head that’s tucked against his chest, sniffling as you feel your nose start to run. Without missing a beat, Jason pulls a tissue from the pocket of his pajama pants and hands it to you.

“And you’re takin’ cold medicine the second you get some food in you.”

He’s not asking anymore, just stating facts.

“Gonna stay up all night watching me too?” you ask teasingly.

“I might,” he retorts.

“I love you too, Jay.”

He goes rigid momentarily before he relaxes against you. Then a soft smile breaks out on his face. He chuckles and shakes his head, turning his face away from you. But you can be observant too. You don’t miss the way pink dusts his cheeks and, oh, he looks so pretty like this. You tell him as much just to watch the soft pink turn to vibrant red.

“Shut up and eat your soup.”

One bowl of soup and a disgusting shot of cold medicine later, you find yourself wrapped in the arms of your lover as you both lounge on the couch. Jason reads the new book he was telling you about as you listen to music, dozing in and out of consciousness. It’s not your fault he makes such a great pillow; his large body is warm and soft as he lies relaxed on your sofa. Every now and then, especially when he thinks you’ve fallen into a light sleep, he’ll place a featherlight kiss on the top of your head.

You may not be a vigilante or The World’s Greatest Detective, but you can put all the pieces of the day together well enough. Carrying you out of bed, making you soup, letting you rest on him, the soft kisses and touches he flutters over your skin; it’s all his way of saying he loves you when the words themselves are simply too much or not enough. But the words are enough for you. You swear that you’ll go to your grave finding all the prettiest ways to tell him just how much you love him. Because you do.

And maybe it’s the homemade soup settled in your belly, or the afternoon sunlight shining through the window, or the warmth of the man you love beneath you, but you soon find yourself lulled into a peaceful sleep that feels just like home.

[brainrotandbedrot]

i have a cold and feel like a victorian child with tuberculosis so here’s this

(yeah yeah i know it’s been done before but my bursts of creativity are rare these days)

price is the one who won’t come near you with a ten-foot pole. yeah, maybe it’s a controversial take, but that man has responsibilities. and while he loves and adores you, he unfortunately can’t abandon them to sit with you and wait for you to feel better. so instead, he makes sure you get anything you want delivered to the front door. he puts medicine next to your filled water bottle, alongside your fully-charged kindle, a full box of tissues, and the tv remote. by the time you shuffle downstairs, all hacky and achey and tired, the sofa is a little haven of everything you could possibly need. everything’s within reach, there’s a blanket tossed over the couch, and a mug of tea is keeping warm in the microwave. just remember to text him when you’re awake, honey.

simon has an immune system made of steel. he could probably take on the black plague and survive unscathed, considering how many times you’ve had a stomach bug and he’s just totally unaffected. despite that, he’s also a germaphobe. the second you get the sniffles, he’s disinfecting every surface and giving you cup after cup of emergen-c. or anything he can find that has vitamin c in it. sorry, love, but you’re in separate rooms until you recover. that doesn’t mean he abandons you, though — he just brings you everything with a face mask on and gloves, then makes you sanitize your hands after you touch him. he’s an acts of service man: while you’re down for the count, he takes a few days off and cleans the house, takes care of chores, and makes sure there isn’t a thing you need to worry about.

johnny is the one that acts like you’re one foot in the grave even though it’s just a fever. he senses you’re sick before you do — he can see the slight glaze over your eyes, the way you’re drinking more water than usual, the way you seem to be just a bit off. as soon as you’re actually running a fever, he’s right there next to you. lazes on the couch with you, hand-feeds you, takes a swig of your electrolyte drink right after you. even though he’s a very dedicated attendant, handling your every need, it’s really not a shock that he ends up in the same predicament a week later. but he doesn’t mind it. he’d rather catch a bug if it means he gets to take care of you. and with all the naps you’re taking — the fatigue hits hard — he gets to be your pillow. he doesn’t see any downsides, really.

kyle is an angel. he knows you’re not feeling good. he doesn’t hold anything against you when you snap at him — you can’t help it, baby. it’s not your fault you’re sick. just let him take care of you, yeah? he’ll sit you down in the bath, keeping the water lukewarm so it can be made hotter or colder depending on what you need. he’ll wash your hair, scrub all the sweat away, and make sure you feel a bit more like yourself as he rubs in your lotion and dresses you in one of his big shirts and a pair of boxers. anything you ask for is acquired within minutes. you want water? already taken care of. ibuprofen for your sore throat? open up. jello or pudding? already in the fridge. just don’t forget your protein and greens, love, they’ll make you feel better. he’s fixing an omelette for you with all the nutrients you need to shake the little bout of flu off, and he’ll even blend it all up if you don’t like the texture of having everything chopped.

[revelboo]

i love your writing so much thank you for feeding us!!! do you think you’d ever write for ultra magnus/minimus? feel free to ignore this if not!

The Conversation

Ultra Magnus x Reader

• How many is that now? Servos drumming on his desk, he grimaces. Five counting Swerve’s find the day before. That one had to have appeared after Rodimus and Megatron had destroyed the machine. Brainstorm’s only response had been to wave his hand and mutter about lingering temporal effects. Which is complete lunacy. Science has rules, it must. Whatever Brainstorm had done isn’t following them, though.

• Leaning out from the ladder, you stretch an arm out and your fingertips can just barely brush the top of the book. Tipping it and lunging to catch it before it can fall to the floor below, you feel foot slipping on the ladder rung as you reel back and bang back into it, feet scrambling until your footing is secure again with the book clutched to your chest. And heart racing, your stomach drops. It’s not like you haven’t fell before, but this is different. Cold sweat breaking out all over your skin, your head feels like it’s splitting open. You can’t hold onto the ladder, can’t feel your fingers at all as your vision goes gray at the edges and pain hammers you.

• There’s a feeling like a shift in air pressure that prickles over him. Bringing his head up in time to see the small form just materialize in the air. Reaching without thinking as that limp form begins to fall and he catches you. Another one? Venting raggedly at how warm and still you are in his palm, he reaches out a servo of his other hand to gently nudge you. Can feel your heart beating and see the rise and fall of your chest. Alive, but if you’re anything like the others, that pain would have been crippling.

• When you come to, it’s to your head pounding and a foul taste in your mouth. Everything hurts, like you’re one big bruise, but whatever you’re laying on is warm and there’s something soft wrapped around you. And you just want to sleep, curling tighter against the ache you can feel down in your very bones.

Happy turkey day- visiting my grandma in the land of no cell service

[glitteringdust]

Bc I'm sick rn, Lucanis taking care of Rook while they have a fever?

Rook sat in front of the dining room's fireplace, blanket wrapped around her shivering shoulders as Lucanis stirred the pot on the stove.

She'd taken a blast of raw magic head on earlier in the day, according to Bellara. On the group's return to the Lighthouse a torrential downpour left them soaked to the bones by the time they'd stepped through the eluvian. Rook had been the worst off but was unwilling to admit it.

He'd already tried bringing her back to bed more than once—she would return to her spot near the fire not long after, no matter what he did. It was safer for her to remain close, if she was so determined to return.

Stubborn. Should be in bed.

It was clear the demon agreed with Lucanis on one thing, at least.

“You should be in bed, Rook. You need to rest.” He sets the spoon down, leaving the soup to simmer a while longer as he makes his way to her.

“It's magical sickness, it'll pass soon enough.” She looks up at him, blue eyes big enough to drown in. He would almost believe her lie, if he did not see the fatigue etched into her face.

“Until it has, you should take the advice you give me. Rest.” He holds his hand out towards her.

“In that cold bed all on my lonesome?” She takes his hand, lets him pull her up close, “You could help make it warmer, you know.”

So close, he can feel the heat radiate from her.

Warm, very warm indeed.

As intriguing as it was for Spite to see something new, Lucanis knew Rook needed hydration and rest. A cool cloth on her forehead to help the fever. He needed to do something.

Bargaining would have to do.

“If you promise me you'll try and sleep, I'll hand over dinner privileges to Bellara and be your personal bed warmer.”

A small grin, yet he can tell she's satisfied with her victory.

His small bed in the pantry is closest, and more practical than walking the distance back to hers. He sends her to it while he goes to inform Bellara that dinner duties were now hers. When he returns to the pantry, Rook is lying down in his bed with the blanket pulled up to her chin.

Her gaze meets his immediately, and she smiles, “You came back.”

He slides his boots off, one at a time, “Of course I did, I'm a man of my word.”

He has no intention of sleeping. It's the one thing he tells himself as he lays down beside her. But then she settles in closer to him and entwines her fingers with his. Her breathing becomes a rhythmic pattern as she drifts into what will be a fitful kind of sleep. There was no leaving, now.

Proximity was contagious.

He should try to sneak away, see if Harding had the plants needed to make a tonic for fever. Or at least make more coffee, since the one he had was now abandoned in the kitchen. He certainly shouldn't be growing drowsy from the warmth of her, the comforting smell of cinnamon. He needs to stay awake…

…

…

When Bellara comes in later to announce dinner is ready, she can't bear to wake them.

[meracyn]

BITTER || kwon jae-sung

sypnosis. after a painful breakup that left you mentally scarred, you are forced to see kwon again, this time at the sekai taikai tournament. after successfully avoiding him many times, he finally got you to himself. the question is– will you go back to him again?

notes. cursing, reader is female for this & part of miyagi-do. kind of angst? trying out a new style for these lol

You arrived at the bar with the rest of the Miyagi-Do members. After many hours of rough training sessions and competition at the Sekai Taikai tournament, you all agreed it was fair to have some fun for a while.

The music blared through the speakers, every vibration being sent to your body. It was pretty full, but you weren't going to let that prevent you from having fun. Robby and Miguel went off on their own, as well as Demetri and Hawk. Devon had stayed back since she claimed to feel unwell, leaving you, and the female captain of your dojo alone.

You made your way to an empty spot, when you heard an all familiar voice call out to you. Looking up, you saw Sam, who sat next to you on the table, offering you a drink. "Here, you did great today by the way." She said with a smile.

Taking it from her hand, you took a sip. "Thanks, you did too." Not long after, Sam excused herself to take some fresh air outside, reassuring you she wouldn't take long.

As you were left alone, you eventually got bored and decided to go up to the bartender and order a stronger drink, which was probably a bad idea as you ended up drinking more than you intended to. Your vision was slightly blurred and your head was starting to throb.

"Ugh.." You groaned, pressing a hand against your forehead as you tried to walk out of the bar, stumbling on the way before you bumped against someone. Muttering an apology, you took a step forward when a hand grabbed your arm.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" A sharp, low voice practically hissed at you. You felt your heart stop as you recognized the voice all too well, bringing back painful memories you thought were already gone. You tried to get out of their grasp, but their hold became much more firm, making you unable to leave.

"Let me go," You said, your tone coming off more aggressive than you thought.

"And let you be with those guys who are practically eyefucking you?"

Clenching your fist, you finally looked up. Like you figured out, it was Kwon.

Memories of the breakup flooded your mind, reminding you of the pain you felt back then. It only made your head hurt even more–and your heart, too.

"I can handle myself, thanks." You mumbled, taking the opportunity to remove your hand away from his touch. "I don't have anything to talk to you about."

Kwon reached out to hold you again, this time an arm around your waist, pulling your back against his chest. "Actually, we do need to talk."

You shook your head in anger, attempting to get him off of you. Kwon dipped his head low in response, his lips beside your ear. "Do you really want to cause a scene right now?" He asked, his tone sending you shivers down your spine.

You reluctantly stopped moving, as Kwon took your hand and led you out of the bar, headed towards a dark alley. The air was very chilly, a stark contrast to the bar’s warm atmosphere. As soon as Kwon stopped walking, you yanked your hand out of his.

"Why did you even bring me here?"

"I didn't think you would be at the Sekai Taikai."

"But I am, what about it?"

"You keep avoiding me."

"Yeah. The same reason you ended our relationship turned out to be in vain." You retorted, voice wavering slightly. The alcohol was starting to affect you more by the second, causing you to hold onto the cold, rough wall behind you.

Kwon took a step closer to you, faint hesitation flickering in his eyes for a moment before disappearing just as quickly. He lifted his hand to cup your cheek, thumb gently stroking your skin. "Remember those nights we spent together?" He whispered.

You shook your head, feeling a wave of drowsiness overcome your senses. "Kwon..don't.." You said quietly.

"Let us try again," Kwon persisted. "Give me another chance..yeah?" He murmured, bringing your face closer to his. Your breath hitched at his actions, heart pounding.

"We can't." You pushed him away from you, making him slightly surprised. "We're in different dojos now. Focus on yours, and I'll focus on mine." Before you could continue any further, Sam spotted the both of you and quickly rushed over to your side, placing a hand on your shoulder as she glared at the male in front of you.

"Get out. Don't you dare get any closer to her." She threatened, before turning to look at you, concern evident in her eyes. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah.. let's just go." You replied while avoiding Kwon's burning gaze. Sam nodded, letting you hold onto her for support as she led you out of the place.

You couldn't look back, fearing you would break and go back to him. Although deep down, you knew Kwon would do his best to do just that.

[moody-alcoholic]

These Violent Delights

Chapter 17 - Maybe Tomorrow Is a Better Day

Summary: Poly 141 x fem!reader, a/b/o alternate universe 8.6k words. If you had to spend sometime recovering anywhere the Scottish highlands are not a bad place.

CW: MDNI +18 explicit content. a/b/o alternative universe, a/b/o dynamics, typical a/b/o universe tropes (nesting), hurt/comfort, nightmares, PTSD, mental health, sex, anal sex, oral (m receiving), handjob, fingering. 

AN: With Christmas coming up updates might be a bit slower.. sorry :/

Previous - masterlist - next AO3

Enjoy <3

1 week later 

You like Scotland. Johnny’s house is nice: there’s a pond out front, and it’s about a kilometre or so from a loch. It’s cold, but you don’t mind. You like spending time outside. You like that there are no walls around you—well other than the back garden, but Johnny says it’s to keep the wildlife off his plants.  There’s nothing planted now though, since it’s not the right time of year. Too cold. 

No base walls though, no guards or strangers. You could leave anytime you want. The house is isolated and surrounded by open fields and sparse forests. It’s different from Washington; the trees are different, the smells, the noises, even the grass. You wake early most days when the morning fog is heavy in the air and dew coats the grass. 

You like having alone time. You wake just as the sun is coming up. You make yourself tea and sit out in the back garden watching the sun rise until someone else gets up. Usually it’s John first. He always wakes up early. He smiles at you from the kitchen and then goes for a run. 

Then Simon and Johnny are usually next. They come out to sit with you but not for too long. As soon as John is back Simon goes for a run. You feel bad. You remember Kyle telling you that John insisted on there always being an alpha in the house.

You don’t understand why. There is no chemical anymore, no more people who will ever be exposed. With Dr. Piper gone, there’s never going to be a cure either. That makes you feel bad. You know how badly they wanted a cure. 

This morning feels particularly cold. There’s frost on the ground and you can see your breath in the air. You don’t really care, letting the tea warm your body. This time it’s Johnny who’s up first. He spies you from the kitchen, smiling, then comes out with a mug in his hands.

“It’s going to start getting really cold soon. You might have to take your tea inside so you don’t get sick.” He smiles, sitting down across the table from you. You don’t care how cold it gets, you like the freedom of being outside.

“I like the cold,” you say while taking a sip of your tea.

“You haven't made a nest yet,” Johnny says as a matter of fact. You don’t know what to say. You haven’t felt ready yet. You’re worried if you make a nest it might get destroyed. You had left behind the last nest you made. 

“I guess I haven’t really thought about it,” you say. That’s a lie, though: you have. There’s a space in the living room by the fireplace under a window. You want to be near the massive floor to ceiling bookcase. There’s an ottoman there now but you would move it. Maybe you do need to build a nest. Maybe it will help. 

“Well, me and Simon were thinking about going to town later. If you want to come we could look for some things?” 

“Sure,” you say. Johnny raises his eyebrows. You haven’t left the confines of the house or the back yard. Maybe he expected you to say no and he was going to have to convince you. You wanted to say no. You already feel like you’re regretting it. You like the solitude of Johnny’s house; it's secluded, quiet and away from anything or anyone.

You try to remember how far away the nearest town is, but you really have no idea. You look into the kitchen and see John moving around. He looks up and smiles, like he always does. You look back down, gripping your cup tighter. 

“Have you spoken to John yet?” Johnny asks. Your eyes flick up to him and you bring the mug to your lips. You don’t want to talk to him. You’re not ready yet. The hairs stand up on the back of your neck. You miss him. Just thinking about him makes a knot form in your stomach. 

It’s your job to keep the threads tight, it’s your job to keep the bonds strong. You miss John, but you’re just not ready. 

“I will, it’s just hard.” You take another big gulp of tea, letting it warm your throat. He looks at you pressing his lips together like he wants to say something but he doesn’t. 

“He misses you,” he says after a few seconds. It makes you feel guilty. You’re being a bad omega. You should just push your feelings to the side and be there for him. It’s not like you had a choice with Professor Hale. 

You stand up, ignoring Johnny’s attempts at apologies as you head back into the kitchen. John is still standing there, leaning against the sink. You place your mug on the kitchen island. You look up at him. His eyes never leave you as he brings his mug to his mouth. 

You open your mouth stepping forward like you want to say something. You don’t know what to say. You’re not ready to forgive him yet. Images of Dr. Piper's blooded face flood into your head. 

He did that. He could have stopped her. 

He could have stopped her. 

You storm out of the room down the hall up the stairs. You don’t know why it makes you so angry. You just want to run. 

“You alright?” Simon asks as you almost bump into him in the hallway. 

“I’m fine,” you snap. Your head is pounding as you look around, and you’re confused for a second looking for your room. Simon steps closer to you, his hand landing on your shoulder. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” he says, squeezing your shoulder. You snap back to reality looking at him. He’s frowning at you. You nod and turn to your room. You close the door behind you rushing over to the window to breathe in the cold morning air. 

There’s a knock at the door snapping you out of your daze.

“I’m fine,” you call back. There's a shakiness to your voice. You’re not ready yet.

The door opens anyway. You know it’s Simon, he only opens it a crack.

“You wanna leave the door open a bit. These doors are old, could get stuck and then we’ll have to break you out,” Simon says. You smile. You know that's not the real reason. None of them will admit the real reason though. 

“Thank you,” you say, then hear him moving away. His scent wafts into the room, filling your nose with gunpowder and the ground after rain. He did that on purpose, for you. He does such a good job at protecting his scent. 

You step away from the window sitting down on your bed. You look at Piper’s scarf tied to the bed head. It barely smells of her anymore. You run your fingers over it and it makes you upset. You look away. 

Now you wish you had a nest.

You don’t even realise how long it has been or how late it is until Johnny knocks at your room door. You finish the last page of the book you're reading and get up, your limbs stiff from being curled up in the rocking chair. 

“Hey, ready to leave?” he asks as you open the door. You nod, picking your jacket up from the back of the door.

“How did you like the book?” he asks, as you walk down the stairs. 

“It was okay.” You look down at it, some kind of romance book you picked for the pretty house on the cover. It just made you miss John. Maybe you need to stay away from those kinds of books for a while. You hang your jacket over the bannister and go into the living room to put the book away. 

When you walk in you see John and Kyle on the sofa, John’s arm is thrown round the back with Kyle angled slightly towards him. They both smile at you as you walk past the TV in silence to put the book back on the shelf. 

“Going down town?” Kyle asks. You nod trying your best to keep your eyes away from John. Kyle stands up reaching into his pocket and handing you something. You walk over to accept it. It’s a piece of folded up paper. 

“Shopping list.” He smiles. You nod back at him and head for the door to leave. 

“Have fun,” John says. You freeze, turning back to look at him. He’s smiling. You press your lips together and nod back at him before walking through the door. 

The room is empty again. John waits till he hears the front door close before getting up. Kyle follows him as John looks out the window watching everyone get into the car. Kyle opens the front door watching as the lights come on and they start to drive away.

John comes behind Kyle as they watch the car leave. He slips his hands around his waist pulling him up against him. 

“I could have gone instead of Simon,” Kyle says. John just hums, pressing his face into Kyle's neck, breathing him in. 

“I wanted to spend some time with you,” John says as Kyle turns in his arms. He keeps his hands on Kyle’s waist pressing his fingers into his soft skin. 

“You’ve done such a good job taking care of the omega, you deserve someone taking care of you,” John says leaning in and planting his lips on Kyle’s. It doesn’t take long for him to sink into the kiss letting his hands run up John’s shirt. 

John pulls him inside without breaking away from the kiss, closing the door behind them. Kyle is already getting needy, rubbing his thumbs over John’s nipples, who moans into his mouth. Kyle drags his tongue across Johns as his heels hit the bottom step. 

“C’mon,” John says, breaking away so he can lead Kyle up the stairs. They make their way into the master bedroom. John hoped he would be sharing this bed with you. Instead it feels empty at night. 

Kyle presses past him making his way over to sit on the edge of the bed. John smiles walking over, his hand comes up to brush Kyle’s cheek. 

“It’s been too long. I’m sorry I’ve been so busy,” John says, running his hands over Kyle's head. Kyle's arms come up to John’s waist, he presses his fingers into his skin. 

“It’s okay, I know things haven’t been easy,” Kyle says, running his hands back up Price’s shirt.

“I should have made time,” he says, grabbing the back of his shirt and pulling it over his head. 

“You’re making time now, that's what matters.” Kyle kisses his stomach, dipping his thumbs past John's waistband. He moves his hand to the front of John’s pants as he cups Kyle's face.

Kyle unbuckles John’s pants, undoing the button and letting them fall down. Kyle hums running his hand over John’s hardened cock, mapping it out over the fabric. 

“I’m supposed to be taking care of you,” he says, pulling Kyle’s face up to look at him. 

“Yeah, you’ll get a turn,” Kyle smiles. Without moving his eyes he pulls John’s boxers down letting his cock spring free. John lets out a sigh looking down at Kyle who moves his hands to grip around his member. He rolls his thumb over the head, making John twitch in his hands.

Kyle doesn’t wait for long, his eyes going shiny and his mouth filling with saliva. He wets his lips, taking John in his mouth. Kyle hums as he takes him all the way to the hilt. It makes John’s head tip back letting out his own moan as he throbs in Kyle’s mouth.

“I’ve missed your lips, your mouth. Christ, we should have done this sooner,” John breathes, his cock hardening, forcing Kyle to slow down. Kyle just hums. John looks down at him. His arms have wrapped around his waist. His nails dragging up and down his back make goosebumps rise on his body.

John lets himself relax, spreading his legs slightly while Kyle’s tongue presses hard, running up and down the underside of his cock. John moans, his hand moving to the top of Kyle’s head. He can’t help gently pushing on his head making sure he takes him all the way. His hand moves down his head to his neck, his fingers pressing into the sensitive skin. Kyle moans causing John to groan as the smell of vanilla fills the room.

Kyle pulls off him, saliva dripping down his chin. John sighs smiling as his hand comes around to cup his chin letting his thumb smear the saliva across Kyle's lips. 

“On the bed,” he orders, his voice rumbling. Kyle nods, pulling his shirt over his head before turning and crawling up on the bed. John runs his hands over Kyle's body as he turns lying flat on his back.

John bends down, unclipping Kyle's belt and buttons, grabbing his waistband, pulling the rest of his clothes off and throwing them over the chaise longue in the room. Kyle’s cock springs up. He’s wet, swollen, tip shiny with precum. 

“Fuckin’ gorgeous ain’t you,” John says, running his hand up Kyle's body leaning over him. He takes his time pinching his nipples, letting his hands map out each muscle and scar. The further down he gets the more kisses he leaves on Kyle’s skin, sucking on his sensitive spots leaving his mark. 

John reaches Kyle’s cock rubbing his thumb over the tip spreading the precum down his shaft. 

“So perfect, so pretty,” John says, pumping Kyle's cock causing him to tip his head back moaning out John’s name. “That’s it, keep making those pretty little noises and I'll make you feel good. You’ve worked so hard, you deserve to feel good.” 

“Anything for you, sir,” Kyle breathes, already sounding blissed out as John moves to kneel between his legs. He presses his thumb under the head of his cock, pulling his foreskin back and pressing his lips against his swollen tip.

John takes Kyle all the way making sure to wet the whole length, his chin resting on Kyle’s balls. It feels good having Kyle in his mouth. It’s a familiar feeling, something John can relax into, letting his guard down completely. 

The smell of vanilla fills the air, Kyle’s moans getting louder. Each one makes John’s cock twitch. He’s getting impatient. He needs to be inside Kyle, feel him tightening sround his dick, fucking him deep and long. That’s what he needs right now, a good hard fuck to clear his head.

He pulls his mouth off of Kyle looking over at his head still thrown back on the bed, his hands bunching the bedding. 

“Turn over,” John says, gripping Kyle’s waist to flip him. Kyle shuffles up the bed reaching over to the bedside table drawer. John was already gathering up saliva in his mouth as Kyle hands him a bottle of lube.  

“Ready for everything, huh?” John asks, throwing it down on the bed next to him, he wants to work him open some first, pressing his fingers in his mouth wetting them. Kyle hums, pressing his ass in the air, almost like you do when you’re presenting for him. It makes the hairs stand on the back of his neck. He pushes the thought of you away. He’s spending time with Kyle now.

“Open up for me,” John says, pressing his fingers against Kyle's hole. John works his fingers in, a moan rising from Kyle as he grips the bedding. John curls his fingers hitting the soft spot that makes Kyle press his face deeper into the bed. 

The beautiful moans make John’s cock throb as he works Kyle open letting his palm slam against Kyle’s skin. 

“You can take one more,” John says, pressing his lips on Kyle’s back teasing him with a third finger.

“Sir—” 

“Come on Kyle, you can take it,” John says, his voice grumbling from the back of his throat. It’s almost an order. An order Kyle follows, relaxing so John can press another finger into him. Kyle moans, almost screaming into the bedding as John speeds up. 

John reaches over and picks up the bottle of lube popping open the cap with one hand. He can’t wait any longer; he needs to feel Kyle clenching around his cock milking him until there’s nothing left. John takes his hand out using it to squirt lube over his cock smearing it around before lining himself up. 

“Such a good boy,” John breathes as he eases into him, letting out a satisfied moan to match Kyle. “ Oh fuck—” John breathes shifting on his knees so he’s in a better position. Kyle’s hands are still gripping the sheets, his head turned to the side, eyes squeezed shut. 

The smell of vanilla is thick in the air. They’ll have to open a window when they’re done. For now John doesn’t care, he slowly starts to buck his hips letting Kyle get used to him for a few thrusts. Then he reaches around his waist finding his cock and running his hand down the length. 

With the way Kyle is reacting to his body John’s not quite sure how long he’s going to last. He lets himself relax though only focusing on Kyle and his sweet moans, his incoherent babbling as John pumps his length. 

He wants to see Kyle, wants to look into his eyes when he cums. 

“Turn over for me,” John says, pulling out as he hears Kyle groan in protest. He turns over laying on his back spreading his legs. John steps off the bed hooking his arms under Kyle’s knees and pulling him to the edge.

John presses back up against Kyle's hole letting his tip tease him while he gets comfortable. 

“Look so pretty down there for me,” John says, his scent thick in the air. So is Kyle's, and it's making John's head spin. Kyle barely responds, humming something incoherent as he looks up at John. His eyes are glossy, his lips wet and puffy. John leans over and kisses him sucking on his bottom lip before standing back up again. 

He presses into Kyle watching as he arches his back. John’s hand presses on his abdomen pushing him down before wrapping his hand around Kyle’s cock. This time he quickly speeds up trying to match his thrusts with pumping Kyle’s dick. John’s hand is smeared in precum, adding the wet sounds mixed with their moaning.

Kyle's hand lazily comes on his chest brushing his nipples making him clench around John. It feels like fireworks. John groans, tipping his head back trying to focus on not cumming so quickly. He wants to stretch this out for as long as he can. 

Kyle is pulling on his nipples, squeezing them before running his thumb over them. 

“Close,” Kyle stutters, back arching. John squeezes the base of his cock, running his thumb over his balls. 

“Already?” John teases, slowing down his thrusts. He watches as more precum drips down his hand. “C’mon you can take it, a little longer.” John’s voice is low, the air filling with the smell of leather as he slowly builds up speed. 

Kyle looks up at him, and John can see the glint in his eyes. He leans over and his free hand comes up to rub Kyle’s cheek. Kyle turns his head kissing it, trying to suck on his fingers in a desperate attempt to get John to let him cum.

“Wait,” he says suddenly as he sits up in the bed wrapping his arms around John. 

“I’m supposed to be taking care of you,” John smiles as Kyle pulls off of him and scoots further into the bed patting for John to join him. John lays down letting his head sink into the pillows, his hand gently stroking himself as he watches Kyle who swings his legs over John straddling his waist. 

“Easy there, soldier,” John coos, running his hands over Kyle's thighs, squeezing them. Kyle reaches around grabbing John’s cock angling himself then guiding John into him. John’s head tips back into the pillows as they both shuffle their bodies getting comfortable. 

“Such a big strong alpha taking care of the pack,” Kyle says with a cheeky grin on his face, running his fingers up John’s chest as he bounces up and down on his cock. John looks up at him. There’s a twinkle in his eye. Shivers run up and down his body. His cock twitches, and Kyle clenches around him.

“Christ,” John breathes closing his eyes as the hairs stand up on the back of his neck. The scent of leather fills the air as John and Kyle chase the peak. John’s fingers dig into Kyle’s thighs gripping him tightly. Kyle pumps his cock with each bounce, and suddenly his movements become uneven, more desperate.

“Fuck sir—” Kyle calls John’s name as he cums, thick ropes shooting across John’s chest. John cums a few seconds later forcing Kyle down onto him as he fills him up, each throb causing him to grunt as he tries to normalise his breathing.

Kyle's eyes open and he looks down at John smiling. 

“Like being called a strong alpha?” Kyle asks, raising an eyebrow. John chuckles, shaking his head. Kyle leans down to kiss him, then he sits back up bracing his hands on John’s chest like he’s about to get off him. 

“No, you’re not done yet,” John says, running his hands up Kyle’s thighs. 

“Want to go again old man?” Kyle teases, getting up anyway to move next to John. Kyle hums, tracing his fingers across John’s abdomen, feeling John shiver under his touch until his hand makes its way to John’s cock. 

“Yeah, I could go again.” 

Kyle smiles. 

You’re driven to a small town about an hour from the house. The whole place looks picturesque: cobblestone roads and massive stone brick buildings. It’s almost like something out of a fairy tale. The whole town is surrounded by long fields and evergreen woods. 

As you drive down the main road you can see shops on both sides. There’s a carpark at the end of the road and a massive building with colourful windows and a huge bell on the top. Simon parks and you all get out. Your eyes are drawn to everything. There’s a cafe right next to the carpark with massive curved wooden windows that look hundreds of years old.

You end up grabbing Johnny's arm as he leads you round to the main street where the shops are. There’s a post office and various other shops, anything from clothes stores to what look like furniture stores. At the end of the street there is another fountain and a modern looking building with two entrances: one says NHS the other Tesco. The seemingly never ending gloom that hangs over the Scottish sky seems warm and cosy now with the shop lights spilling out onto the road. There are no cars, just people, dogs. You can hear music coming out from the cafe, gentle tunes that add to the atmosphere. It’s beautiful. 

“Where do you want to go first?” Johnny asks as you stop on the corner of the main street. You look up at him still trying to take it all in. He smiles at you, tipping his head. You squeeze his arm looking back down the road. There are a few people around: a group waiting at the bus stop, a woman with a stroller and a group of older ladies at the cafe.

“I don’t know,” you say. Everywhere, you want to go everywhere.

“There’s a book shop or we could go to the charity shop to see if we can find anything for your nest.” You look back down the street. 

“The book store,” you say. Johnny’s arm comes around your waist as he guides you down the road. 

“I’ll go to Tesco,” Simon says as Johnny stops outside what you assume is the book store. You’re looking in the windows while they chat, not paying attention, your eyes drawn over the books displayed on stands. 

“C’mon lass, there’s more inside,” Johnny says, his hand gently pushing you in. You’re not sure what to even look for. You take a deep breath in. The place smells of books. The smell of ink and paper fills your nose. It’s a comforting smell. That's what you loved about the books in the bunker. It was one of the only places that didn’t smell sterile or full of chemicals. 

The place is dimly lit with orange lighting and dark wood bookshelves. It makes the whole place feel cosy. You walk over to one of the shelves running your fingers over the spines reading the names. There’s a sign at the top that reads ‘mystery’. You look for colours and names that stick out to you. You would buy the whole store if you could.

“What kind of things do you like?” Johnny asks. 

“I like fantasy, with worlds I can lose myself in. I like nature and exploration,” you say, pulling out a book and thumbing through its perfect, untouched pages. You don’t even realise Johnny has left your side until he comes back with a pile of books in his hands. 

“Got you some classics.” He shows you enthusiastically. You put the book in your hands back and take a look. The Lion and the Witch in the Wardrobe and Lord of The Rings. 

“There’s a lion in the wardrobe?” you ask, frowning at the book cover with some kids hugging a lion on it. 

“There’s a whole world in the wardrobe,” he winks. You smile nodding at him. You look back over to the shelf picking out a few more that seem interesting before going to pay. Johnny makes small talk with the man behind the counter. 

They talk so fast you almost can’t keep up with what they’re saying, their accents so thick it almost sounds like they’re speaking another language. You listen on in awe offering to carry the bag as you leave. Johnny won’t have it though, acting like the bag is suddenly the heaviest thing on the planet. 

You let him carry it and cross the road over to the charity shop. He walks you through to the back where there is furniture, pillows and blankets. You spot a fluffy looking blanket with animals printed on it. You pick it up along with a white fluffy pillow.

“I have some blankets at home, ones my mum and gran made. I could find them when we get back if you want?” he asks. You turn to look at him. You still have the blankets from the journey over. 

“You don’t have to, they’re your blankets,” you say squeezing the pillow. 

“It’s fine, they’re begging to be used for something.” He smiles, and you nod at him smiling back. 

This time when you pay it's a woman, an older woman but you’re convinced Johnny will flirt with anyone. When you step back outside it’s darker and there are lights strung up in the street. The place looks even more picturesque than when you were driving out here. You can see that the tops of the lamp posts are covered in massive green leaves with red berries.

“It’s really pretty,” you say, smiling, looking up at the lights. 

“Yeah, almost Christmas,” John says as he walks you back towards the car. 

“I’ve heard about that. The professor would always bring me a gift.” 

“A good gift?” Johnny asks. You nod.

“It was usually a book, it was the only time he would ever be nice to me or give me gifts.” 

“Not even on your birthday?” Johnny asks, sounding shocked. 

“No, that was always an important busy day.” You sigh, swallowing the lump forming in your throat. 

“Why?” Johnny asks as you cross the road over to the carpark. You suddenly feel a chill. You don’t really want to talk about it. 

“Oh you know, lots of tests, lots of surgeries. It’s always the same, a long painful day.” You let out a sigh bringing your arms around your chest as you walk over to the car. Simon is already there putting bags into the boot. 

“Do you ever want to talk about it?” Johnny asks, stopping suddenly. You stop and turn to look at him. 

“What do you mean?” you ask frowning. He tips his head coming over to grab your hand.

“You know, about what you went through in the bunker,” he says. You shake your head.  Dr. Piper tried to get you to talk about it sometimes but you never really wanted to. She said now you were out of the bunker it would be good for you but you had no idea where to start. 

What would you even say? Would they even care?

“I don't know if I want to,” you say. He smiles at you squeezing your hand. 

“That's okay, but if you ever want to talk you know where we are,” he says walking back towards the car. You squeeze his hand back. This has been a good trip. 

“Got everything?” Simon asks as Johnny places the bags in the back next to the food Simon has. You can’t help sneaking a look. You love watching Kyle cook. Sometimes he lets you help, but you think he just likes the company more. You nod, smiling at Simon as he closes the door. 

“John!?” You hear someone shout. It makes the hair stand up on the back of your neck and you turn around with Johnny and Simon. 

“John MacTavish is that you?” the man asks as he walks towards you. Johnny steps forward. He’s big, old, with scruffy clothes and a bright green beanie and scarf.  

“Henry, what are you doing out this time of day?” Johnny says, opening his arms for the man. The smell of alcohol hits your nose, you can tell the man is unsteady on his feet. 

“Who are your friends?” he slurs, trying to force himself past Johnny who moves his body blocking him. You’re suddenly nervous and you reach out gripping Simon’s jacket. He turns to look down at you as Johnny tries his best to move the stranger away. 

���C’mon,” Simon encourages you, guiding you into the car. He’s projecting his scent; it makes your head spin as he opens the back door and you climb in. As soon as you’re sat down you turn to look out the back at Johnny who has his hand on the guy's shoulder smiling at him. 

“What books did you get?” Simon asks, pulling your attention to him and you turn watching him turn the engine on. Your mind goes blank. He turns to look at you.

“Books, yeah. The lion in the wardrobe,” you say but the name doesn’t sound right.

“ The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe ?” Simon asks. You nod. Johnny comes around the front of the car getting into the passenger seat. It makes you jump and you grip your seat-belt pulling it on. 

“Who’s your friend?” Simon asks Johnny. 

“Henry, local. You know the sort, kicked him out the pub for the landlady a few times.” Johnny shrugs. Simon hums as he drives the car out the car park. Johnny turns to look at you.

“Had a good trip?” He asks, smiling. 

“Yeah. I think I'm ready to make a nest,” you say smiling at him.

John’s laid up in the bed, the window open behind him. The cold breeze makes him shiver. The smell of vanilla and leather is almost completely gone now. All that fills the room now is the smell of the forest and the scent of Kyle’s beta.

Kyle pulls the duvet further over them, running his fingers across John’s chest under the bedding as they’re curled up next to each other. 

“She wants to forgive you,” Kyle says after a while. John turns to look at him. “She’s struggling without you. She thinks she can hide it but she can't.” 

“What do you mean?” John asks. Kyle sighs, moving his hand down to John’s stomach.

“She calls out for you in her sleep. I heard her talking to Johnny, she misses you. You claimed her, she’s your omega, that will never go away,” Kyle says, John sighs.

“I’m giving her space.” 

“She’s grieving but maybe some forced proximity would do you both some good.” 

“I don’t want to push her.” 

“It’s been almost a month. She needs you, and I know you need her.” John smiles at his words. 

“Don’t think you’re so subtle either, Cap. I see the way you act when she’s around or not around,” Kyle teases.

“Oh yeah,” John scoffs.

“Yeah, how you always sit so she’s in your peripheral. How your body language changes when she’s upset or happy. I bet you don’t even realise it,” Kyle explains chuckling.

“Maybe I’m getting soppy.” 

“You’ve always been soppy, sir,” Kyle says, propping himself up on his arm, running his hand down his abdomen. John smiles at him hearing the car pull back up outside the house. Kyle tenses propping himself up in bed. John puts his hand on Kyle's chest pushing him down. 

“Easy, take a nap. I’ll wake you up later,” John says, kissing his forehead. 

“She needs us,” Kyle says, sighing.

“She has Johnny and Simon. She'll be fine for a few hours. You need the rest,” John says, moving out of the bed to dress himself. He goes over to the window at the far end of the room. He can see Simon opening to boot to the car as you get out. 

You’re smiling as Johnny tells you something, his arm already finding its way round your waist. It warms John’s heart seeing you smile. It’s the first time he’s seen you smile in weeks.   

You walk in just as John is making his way down the stairs, your nostrils flare as the smell of leather fills your nose. Your eyes lock onto him, and a warmth builds deep in you. You’re just staring at him. He smiles at you.

“Price, a word?” Simon says as you blink swallowing the unbelievable amount of saliva that formed in your mouth. John nods, walking past you and following Simon into the kitchen. You can feel your cheeks burning as you take a step to the stairs. 

“Here, your books and blankets. I’ll put the ones we have in the living room,” Johnny says. You nod heading up the stairs. John's door is locked; you can’t help walking up to it and taking a deep breath in. You can smell the lingering scent of vanilla and leather. You close your eyes breathing it. 

It makes your head feel fuzzy, the burn in your core is almost an ache. You miss him. You want to be mad at him a little longer. Or maybe you don’t, maybe it’s time to move on. You turn walking into your room. You put the bags down going over to Piper’s scarf you have tied to the bed head. 

You run your fingers over it. You can barely smell her scent on it anymore. Maybe it really is time to move on. The burn in your core is replaced by a heavy feeling in your chest. 

You’re not quite ready yet.

Later after dinner when everyone has gone to their rooms you decide you want to build your nest. You sneak out of your room as soon as you hear the last door close. The only person who keeps their room door open is John. Maybe it’s a soldier thing, or maybe it’s an open invitation for you, whenever you’re ready. 

Either way there is no light coming out of the room. You try really hard to listen around. You can’t remember which floorboards creak and this house is old. You’re gripping blankets and pillows in your hands. You squeeze them against your chest as you slowly tip-toe down to the ground floor. All the lights are off and the building is dark.

When you make your way into the living room you see the pile of older looking blankets, on the ottoman exactly where you want to build your nest. You empty your arms onto the floor. You have to move the thing first. Luckily it’s on wheels and it’s not heavy. You pull it out of its place looking at the bare corner of the room.

You pick up the blankets off the ottoman. They’re thick and beautifully embroidered with flowers and animals. They had a musty smell to them but they smell homely. You put them down then sink to your knees reaching behind you to bring the rest of the blankets and pillows you bought around. 

You start to arrange things, the thick blankets first. The wooden floor is cold; you'll need a good bottom layer. You put the pillows down in the corner. It doesn’t feel right. It needs more. You’re already rearranging, spreading out the blankets more, fluffing the pillows even taking the extra ones from the sofa.

You feel like you’ve been working on it for ages, but each time you arrange it it still doesn’t feel right. It feels like an empty nest. Suddenly you’re distracted by a door opening. The door to the kitchen is open and you can see the rest of the lights come on.

You hold your breath craning your head to see into the kitchen. It's John he reaches up taking a glass out and you hear the sink. You look back at your nest, picking up another blanket and running your hand over it. You like the purple flowers on it. You hold it in your hand as you go over to the window above your nest.

You pull the curtain back and open the window. It’s cold, almost too cold. You can smell nature though letting the breeze make you shiver. You look out into the dark, closing your eyes and breathing it in. You can smell the woods, the damp ground, you can hear the lapping of the pond and the sound of creatures in the woods. 

“You okay?” The sudden noise makes you jump. You turn, seeing John standing in the doorway with a glass of water in his hand. You’re just staring at him squeezing the blanket in your hands like you’re clinging on to it for dear life. 

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, holding his hand up. He looks down at the pile of blankets and pillows. He stands outside the door. He knows better than to come in while you’re making your nest. You can’t keep avoiding him. It's been weeks, longer, since you’ve really been around him. 

“You didn’t scare me,” you say, kneeling back down. His eyes follow you as you put the blanket down and pick up another pillow.

“It means you feel safe right?” he asks like he doesn’t know. You nod, pressing the pillows before turning to look up at him. 

“I thought if the weather was nice tomorrow we could all go see the loch?” he asks. You do want to see the loch. You haven’t really been in the mood to do much. 

“Yeah, that sounds like a good idea,” you say, running your hand over the fluffy blue blanket. It’s almost perfect. 

“You know if there is anything you need you just have to ask,” John says. You smile. You don’t know why you’re sick of people telling you that.

“I know, thank you,” you say looking up at him. There’s a burn there, a throb in your heart. You miss him. You miss him just holding you. You want him to hold you and tell you everything is going to be okay. 

It’s going to be okay. You have to believe that. 

John stands there in the doorway watching you as you mess with your nest. It’s not going to be perfect, not until you have something from each of your pack, just like the nest you left in the US. It makes you feel sick knowing that nest will have been destroyed.

John lets out a sigh and you look over at him. He smiles at you, keeping his distance. 

“It’s late, you should sleep soon,” he says. You nod looking out the window at the night sky. The sky is so clear and dark you can see constellations spread above you. You feel like you could fall asleep forever under those skies. 

“I will,” you say nodding at him. You watch him leave. He turns walking back through the kitchen. Your nest is as good as it’s going to get for now. You pick up one of the handmaid blankets pulling it over your shoulders before climbing into the nest. 

You feel safe here and as soon as you can make it smell of your pack it will be perfect. 

You close your eyes. You’ll make it perfect. 

..

You wake to Kyle standing over you, his hand pressing on your shoulder. He’s smiling with a cup of tea in his hands. You sit up wiping the drool off the side of your face. Your body is stiff, and your muscles feel heavy. You slept well, and you feel good. He hands you the cup of tea. 

“You made a nest,” he says, going to sit over on the sofa, picking up the remote and turning the TV on. You stand up wrapping the blanket around you and going to sit next to him. You take a sip of tea then put it down on the coffee table.   

“Yeah, it felt right.” You smile. He lays his arm round the back of the sofa. You look at him. His head turns to you as he takes a sip of the tea. You lean up against him, and his arm rests over your shoulder. 

“John thought we could take a trip to the loch today,” Kyle says. 

“Yeah, that would be nice. I would like to see it.” 

“We’ll take the car.” 

“I don’t mind walking,” you say looking up at him. He looks down at you and nods. You really don’t mind spending time in nature. Johnny walks into the room next with coffee in his hands. He looks over and sees the nest and smiles at you sitting down next to you. 

You sit there for a few minutes between them while you watch the news play on the TV. You look over at your nest. You do feel safe here, with all of them. Even John. 

“Would you two ever want to have sex with me?” you ask out of the blue before you can stop yourself. They both turn to you, looking between each other as they take in what you said. You regret it almost immediately, wishing you could take it back. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me.” You lean up reaching over for your mug of tea. 

“Would you want to have sex with one of us?” Johnny asks. You turn to look at him. He’s giving you a choice. You never really thought you had one. They would all get a go eventually at least that is what you thought would happen. 

Would John share you around just like the Professor did?

“I wouldn’t mind,” you say feeling embarrassed, sipping your tea to try and hide the redness in your face. “I mean I’ve never had a choice.”

“What do you mean?” Kyle asks. 

“Professor Hale, he would invite his friends to be with me during my heats. Sometimes. It’s normal for an alpha to share their omega in a pack. At least that's what I was told.” You sigh, taking another sip of tea. Kyle's hand comes to rub the top of your back. 

“I’m so sorry,” Kyle says. 

“Why?” You frown at him. He looks over at Johnny, his mouth hanging open.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” Johnny says, his hand landing on your thigh and squeezing it. 

“What made you ask?” Kyle says his hand rubbing your back. 

“I don’t know.” That's a lie; you do. You let out a sigh. “I know you’re all together. I thought it was just normal pack behaviour, but then I remembered you’ve only been exposed to the chemical recently.” 

“It’s normal for packs to all be, together with each other?” Johnny asks.

“Dr. Piper would be better at explaining it but yeah, if the alpha was okay with it of course.” You hang your head still feeling embarrassed. You can’t even remember what the original question was. You finish your tea reaching over and putting it on the coffee table. 

“Do you want to talk to John about it?” 

“No. Just forget it,” you say. Johnny starts to talk but the door opens. Simon steps in.

“Price said it’s going to rain later. If we want to go to the loch it has to be soon.”  Simon's eyes crease as he looks around you all. You get up, he steps aside for you and you head up the stairs. When you get to your room you change into the fluffiest, comfiest clothes you can find. 

What if you’ve ruined it all now? You should have not said anything. Why did you even bring it up? Because you miss John? Now you’re being silly. You should just talk to him. You catch Piper's scarf out the corner of your eye. 

No, not yet. It just doesn’t feel right.

When you make it back down to the hall, Johnny and Kyle are already standing with their coats on. 

“You sure you want to walk lass?” Johnny asks. You frown at him.  

“I thought you said it was close.”

“It is but it’s cold today,” he says. 

“I like the cold.” You smile, zipping your coat up. Johnny grumbles. Simon and John come out of the kitchen. 

“Soap, you can drive there in case we get caught in the rain.” He throws keys at Johnny who catches it and his expression changes. He seems happy about that. You follow him out with Kyle whose hand finds yours leading you past the pond to a dirt path. 

The walk is shorter than you expected. You cut through some woodland then follow an unmarked road for the rest of the way. It’s gloomy, the sun hidden by the darkening clouds. There’s fields with sheep which have colourful spots on them. Kyle talks the whole way, about how nice it is to be back in the calm countryside, how you would love a bunch of cities he lists off. 

You hear John and Simon behind you the whole way. They talk too but you don’t listen, your focus only on Kyle and taking in the countryside. You squeeze his hand now and again so he knows you're listening. 

It is cold. You can see your breath again but you don’t care. The walk is nice and you’re excited to see the loch. It’s been on your mind ever since you got here. You would see it in your dreams or what you imagined it would look like. It always looked like the little lake John would take you to on the base. 

This is way bigger. You’re almost skipping as you can see it through the tree line. You spot Johnny leaning against the car as you walk around letting go of Kyle's hand and speeding your pace to get to the edge of the water. 

The loch is massive. It goes as far as you can see. It’s almost like an ocean. There are waves too lapping up on the stony shore. Johnny comes behind you as you bend down picking up an almost perfectly round stone.

“What do you think?” he asks, his arm wrapping around your shoulder. 

“It’s beautiful,” you smile. You throw the stone letting it splash in the water. 

“Watch this,” Kyle says, throwing a stone but instead of splashing it bounces across the water. You gasp. 

“How did you do that!?” you ask enthusiastically. He bends down picking up another stone and does the same thing. This time it travels further before plopping into the water.  

“Pff, he’s showing off, watch this,” Johnny says, his arm leaving you as he does the same but with 2 stones at the same time. 

“No fair you had all your life to practice,” Kyle huffs. You can’t help but laugh. You haven’t laughed in what feels like forever. It's not even that funny, it just feels right. The noise almost sounds wrong, but it feels good, you let yourself laugh.

“Teach me,” you say, bending down and picking up a stone. As you stand back up to look across the lake you see white blobs slowly falling down, they’re picked up by the breeze and swirl around in the air. Confused, you look up at the sky, the clouds are sheets of white gloomy and swollen. You look down at the stone in your hand, the fluffy white blobs falling on your hand and disappearing. 

It’s snow. You’ve never seen snow before. 

You look up at Kyle smiling, the tufts laying on his hair. Then you look up at Johnny. He has the biggest grin on his face you think you’ve ever seen. You turn back to look at Simon and John standing a few metres behind you. John is smiling, a cigar between his fingers. Simon’s standing with his hands in his pockets. 

You let out a breath clenching your fist around the stone in your palm. You walk over to them. Your heart is thumping in your chest as you listen to the satisfying crunch of stones under your feet. The snow is coming down faster now and thicker. Are you really ready to do this?

“Do you know how to do that?” you ask them, sticking your hand out with the stone still in your palm. They look between each other. 

“Skipping stones? Yeah,” Simon says. 

“Bet you couldn’t beat me!” Johnny calls from behind. Simon tips his head letting out a sigh, taking the stone out of your hand walking past you. You look up at John who takes the cigar out his mouth. You smile at him. You’re still standing there as you hear more stones splashing on the water. 

“Thank you,” you say, watching the snow fall on his hat. 

“You don’t have to thank me.” He smiles. 

“Yes I do.” You hang your head for a second feeling heat rush to your cheeks. You look back up at him and he’s still smiling. His expression is soft. You breathe in his scent letting out a long sigh. 

“Want to judge who wins?” he asks, nodding behind you looking over your shoulder. You nod, turning back to see the three of them with their backs to you both, hands filled with stones flicking them over the water one by one. 

John’s hand rests on the top of your back. Maybe it is time to move on.

Dividers by Plum98 & gild-ui Beta reader and editor - rememberwren

[jikooklove9795]

TIME TO CALL ME DELUSIONAL BUT HEAR ME OUT!!!!!

One of Jungkooks last lives was him wearing the black and white Nike jacket.

Later we seen Jimin wearing the same one.

Everyone pointed it out..

Not to mention they were even matching with wearing beanies but back to my point-

A year ago today Jikookers were in Japan together, they’re safe place really.

Once he saw the snow, Jungkook said he’d remember that moment with Jimin while enlisted.

Today. 11/27. Jungkook changes his/Bams IG pfp with him wearing the same black and white Nike jacket…

Do you see where I’m going with this???

Hey Anon 😊

You really got some points there

We got to see Jungkook wearing the Nike Swoosh Black Jacket along with a black beanie during his Dec 8 2023 live

But we have seen him wearing this Nike Jacket in a live before, right?

When?

The March 14 2023 live. Where Jungkook started the live at 8:11 KST (cough 8/11 cough). The same live where he teased Jimin's SMF pt2 reminding us all that something amazing is gonna come up at midnight. It was White Day in SK.

On Dec 27 2023 we see Jimin wearing the Nike Swoosh Black Jacket along with a black beanie in BTS Monuments Beyond The Star

Jimin was in self quarantine at the time. So, its from Dec 14 2021. We get to know about the date from Jimin's phone screen and also from his conversation with Hoseok the same day

Now let me do a brief recap of Jungkook's Dec 8 2023 live.

When Jungkook starts the live, we see him walking home. He's going home after his workout. He talks about Bam (cause there was a rude comment asking him if he abandoned Bam), how he adopted Bam, took him home and cared for him, about Bam's training center, how he often visits Bam there and brings him home whenever he can. It is during this live that he hints that maybe Bam will have an IG in the future.

He sings songs for ARMY. Complains about the sweat. And changes his outfit to a purple hoodie just 15 mins before the live ends.

Now let's talk about the second part of your ask. About Jikook's conversation in Japan

Jikook got their first snow of this year in SK on Nov 27 2024.

Jungkook changed Bam's IG profile pic on Nov 27 2024 to this pic

And posted a new pic of Bam (the 13th post as pointed out by sydneylaurelseven)

When I saw Bam in this outfit I immediately thought of Jikook twinning on Valentine's Day in 2017

The song is a romantic one released in Dec 2017.

These lyrics:

I hope the white snow will pile up tomorrow morning

Then I'll make you a warm cup of tea

Just keep staying by my side

Promise me

So, I think when the first snow fell in SK Jungkook was reminiscing about his time with Jimin in Sapporo. And also about Bam. His cute family of 3.

According to SK tradition, if you experience the first snow with the person you like, it will lead to a long lasting true love between the two. Because of this many couples promise to meet each other at a certain place to enjoy the first snow and hope for their love to be eternal.

BTS did this interview on Dec 2017. Here, Jimin said that his wish was to see the first snow every year.

And he did. He did it with Jungkook on Jan 8 2018. Their first snow together as a couple (that we know of). Maybe they had watched it before too but this was the only one they shared with us till now. They let us in on their cute, romantic moment

When asked about their favorite weather:

On Nov 25 2018 Jikook went on their ice skating date right after they landed in SK after their Japan Concert

This sweet, romantic moment where Jungkook wakes up, climbs the mountain, brings snow with him and gifts it to Jimin cause he knows Jimin loves snow. And we see Jimin being worried about Jungkook feeling cold. Both of them always thinking about the other

Jikook playing with the snow filters designed by Jimin (Oct 10 2016)

On Nov 25 2023 Jikook flew to Sapporo. Sapporo is also a wonderful winter honeymoon destination for couples.

Jungkook enjoying his trip to Sapporo with Jimin and expressing it

Also, do you notice the watch Jimin is wearing?

He's wearing the same watch he wore during his Sept 1 2023 live. The 1997 model watch, which was set to Jungkook's birth time when he started the live (I love that moment so much. Its so romantic and loud. There's no other explanation to why he did that other than the most obvious one which is proudly showing his love for Jungkook).

Jikook had so much fun in Sapporo, enjoying each other's company, creating memories to take back home with them

I don't know if Jungkook posted those 2 pics intentionally on the same day when the first snow fell in SK. But when we (jkks) saw those 2 pics our mind immediately went to Jikook, right? Because in the first pic of Jungkook with Bam, Jungkook's jacket is the same as the one Jimin was also seen wearing (including the black beanie). The second pic is the one where Bam's wearing a green and grey jacket. Again, Jikook were seen twinning in green and grey jackets on Valentine's Day.

So, is it all a coincidence?

In my opinion Jikook and the word coincidence don't go hand in hand. Cause once, twice or even thrice can be considered a coincidence. But when it comes to Jimin and Jungkook its not a coincidence but a consistent pattern of their choices.

We have seen the whole Jikook sharing/ matching clothes, accessories saga, right? They even did it during their Solo Era. So, I'm not gonna share all that here since most of you would have already seen it. But I'll share some which looks really interesting:

1) Jimin wearing Jungkook's old T-shirt in Hoseok's bday live

2) After Jungkook uploaded GCF Tokyo an Army commented under the official BH tweet asking Jimin if he's dating Jungkook and if he is then to post a selca with glasses. After 3 days Jimin uploads a video where he is seen wearing the same green hoodie which Jungkook wore during their Tokyo trip, with a glasses filter on. He captions it "glasses"

3) Jikook in denim shirts. They looked and acted so couple coded here that Namjoon asked them if they were dating to which neither of them responds nor denies it

4) BTS pic with TXT where Jikook are wearing matching black outfits along with the hats

5) Jikook in couple pajamas for LGO MV. Jungkook wanted it to be as realistic as possible. And thats why there were seen sharing a room together cause thats what they have been doing in real life. Sharing a room, a home and being a couple

6) Jikook's color coordinated outfits for AYS Sapporo (Black & beige and Grey)

7) The staff had already prepared pajama sets for them, which can be seen on the bed but they chose to wear the couple pajama sets they brought with them

8) Jimin wearing Jungkook's sweater to bed in Winter Package

Jikook knows very well that we catch on to the hints and clues they keep dropping here and there.

So, I don't think we are delusional if we connected the pics Jungkook uploaded today to Jikook. And Jungkook himself said that when its gonna snow during their ms he would recall the moment he shared with Jimin during their Sapporo trip.

But add to it Bam too cause he's also a part of their family. So, when it snowed today in SK Jungkook's thoughts were filled with Jimin and Bam. His small, precious family.

Have a nice day, Anon 👋🏻

Credits to the owner of the video

[s3niz3ro]

•Questions• -SUKUNA.R-

-MDNI-

NSFW-SUKUNA.R [COLLEGE AU]

!!CW!!-Mentions of wéed, drinking, dirty language, rough making out, hairpulling, biting, and fing3ring

• In which the infamous Sukuna Ryomen, known for his antics and house parties, takes it upon himself to ask you why you're at his party, simple reason that you are one of gojo's friends- which turns into more than simple question asking •

!!NSFW under the cut!!

straight to the point tbh bc its rushed hella bad🧎🏻‍♀️+not proofread+made this at 2 am half awake with a energy drink and brownies !!ageless blogs dni!!

Your head swings slightly as your dancing in the livingroom with music blasting, shoko dancing alongside you, cup in your hand, and the thought of even leaving nonexistent.

"Hey, shoko?" You yell over the music and the other people nearby which filled the large room. She opened her eyes and looks at you while she dances; wasted. "Yea Y/N?" You look around a few seconds before turning your gaze back at her. "I'ma go to the restroom, don't go anywhere okay?"

She simply gives a thumbs up as she continues dancing tapping suguru's shoulder before making him hold her drink. You walk and push thru the crowd and make your way upstairs. You see a group of people in the quieter portion of the house, obviously smoking weed.

Eventually you find the restroom, the small room was enveloped in the smell of colonge and weed. It was chaotic and slightly overwhelming. You look at yourself in the mirror, fixing your hair clothes and makeup.

Walking out you bump into a hard obsticle, unfortunately the back of sukuna, he seemed to be waiting for the restroom. He turns with annoyance flooded on his face.

"what'cha doin' in there doll? Infact" he pauses breathing in softly, the smell of your perfume seemed to catch his attention. "What's ya' name? Haven't seen ya' before." He tilts his head, a smirk imbedded in his face. The smell of his colonge flooded your senses, which ment he was the one in the restroom.

"Y/N" He smiles before repeating it. "Y/N" It came out almost like a purr from a tiger about take its meal. You advert your eyes feeling your face become hot. He lets out a low chuckle before eyeing you, making it obvious on purpose. "I gotta get back-"

"What's wrong dollface? Jus' asking for ya' name, such a shame you hang out with that Satoru. His words comeoff so soothing in the way that made you want him so bad. You knew what trouble he could bring and that he has brought. Especially to Satoru and the others.

His hand touches your hip ever-so-softly which made goosebumps travel your skin. "Let's go back in yea?" He opens the door again behind you and pulls you in slightly before closing and locking it. You felt your heart race, this wasn't a good thing, it was a bad idea. A terrible idea... right?

It was too late now, in just a few minutes you were on the counter, his hand up your shirt and his mouth on yours. His lips crashed yet once again, his hand on your jaw, the other unclipping your bra. Was this even the right thing? Too late now, you were enjoying this.

He pulls back biting your lip just hard enough to draw a dribble of blood before licking it up. "Wanna feel good dollface?" He huffs out onto your neck before licking it and kissing it. You let out a hum, too nervous to speak.

"Words pretty, c'mon you can." He smirks against your neck. "Yes please, Sukuna" He pulls back before taking off your shirt and bra throwing it on the floor and lifiting your skirt. His hand trailing between your thighs pulling teasingly at the lace as he speaks lowly. "Did you plan on havin' fun?" He teases watching your face turn red.

It was obvious you were both drunk- you more than him. The heat he caused made you feel warm against the cold sink marble counter, the pit in your stomach aching. Your arms holding onto his as his lips press against yours yet again.

His touch got rougher, his hands griping the plush of your thighs tightly, his kisses got deeper and rougher aswell. The sensation overwhelming you. His right hand moves away towards your hair and pulls it to get a deeper angle.

This goes on for a few minutes, you catch your breath in any way you can. His left hand rubs against your clothed cunt. Causing you to moan slightly. The tension was rough and the pit in your stomach was just aching to be relieved. "If you sound like this right now, can't wait to be ball's deep in ya' later." His words and touch alone felt like warm honey on you, igniting fire throughout your body.

You spread your legs slightly, eager for the relief you craved. He lets out a low chuckle. "So needy f'me ya'?" He pulls his hand away from your clothed cunt up to your mouth. "If ya' want it, suck 'em. To make it easier ya'?" His words cooed your body to him. Taking his fingers in your mouth sucking softly.

He pulls them our a few moments later, his smirk widening seeing the glistening saliva along his two large digits. He locks eyes with you. "Can't wait to see ya' unravel in a few moments" He licks his lips slightly before kissing you again, pulling down your panties in a swift motion and sliding along your cunt.

He kisses you deep and rough as he slides in a finger, soon adding the other. His fingers move with speed and talent. You were indeed coming undone in moments. His fingers were wrapped in the damp cushions of your cunt, the noise of his fingers and the slick building.

"I-ah- I think i shouldnt be here y-" you need to cagch you breath, the way his fingers curled in just the right place. "My friend s-ahgn-says that you're an asshole" He just chuckles in response. "He just wants to fuck'ya, hell I wouldnt last just bein' friends with you. Not with this pretty pussy." His hand slows down, before adding another finger. Speeding up once again, his eyes had a hint of desire in them. "Never had a girl squeeze me so damn tight. C'mon y'know you're enjoyin' this."

You give in clinging onto him, his free hand digging into the plush of your left thigh. You felt on the edge, you hadn't done this in so long- it felt heavenly to be specfifc. "Your face is so flushed and you're gettin' tighter. You're so close aren't ya?" He smirkswatching you look down at his hand go what seemed to be an inhuman speed- fuck it felt good.

"mh yea, 'm close- so close" Your hands find their way to his back holding onto him as you near your orgasm. He didn't hold back, instead spreading your legs and rubbing the plush of them. "Gonna make a mess on my counter?" He teases speeding up curling his finger deep. You nod letting out gasps and whimpers. He chuckles watching you come undone, your head going back, jaw slack, and eyes shut.

He keeps his pace spreading his fingers every now and then as you come. It felt so much pressure uncoil in your stomach. The fluid spilling out onto the counter, over his fingers, and dripping down on the floor. You let out soft curses and gasps. "Amazing, I wanna see you do it again. Clean up and wait for me in my room yea?" He taps your thigh pulling out his fingers showing you the slick and fluids that you had drenched his fingers.

You burn, embarrassed. You hadn't ever done that before. He gives you a smirk before washing his hands and throwing a towel onto your legs. Its the room with the metal traffic sign on it." With that he gives you one last glance eating you with his eyes.

"Bzzzt" Your phone which was on the counter next to you vibrated. And from it you saw the notification from Suguru.

"Shoko said you went to the restroom, you didnt sneak away with a rando right? remember you're our DD, text me when your back." The groupchat between you, Shoko, Gojo, ang Suguru. Shit- spent way too long, maybe it wouldnt be a bad idea to spend a few more minutes with him.

yes ik its rushed- badly to say the least, but im at my parents rn cleaning for the holiday... im too tired for this. And for the bakugo drabble or one shot series, ill update on that soon... once votes come in of course!!

[caroverse]

Please help protect my sweetheart and best friend ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Hi! My name is Carolyn and I'm fundraising for the love of my life, Noor. Noor is a Moroccan trans woman, and in a difficult situation right now. She is currently unable to work due to French Bureaucracy and Visa complications. Between the fear of possible deportation, the weight of racism and transphobia, and the anxiety that comes with struggling with money, she is really having a difficult time right now and could use all the support she could get. She is struggling to afford rent during this time where she is unable to work. Every single cent that is donated will be sent directly to help support her in life.

Noor and I have been together now for years and although we are currently far apart, we are trying our best to support eachother and are working to make sure we can live together in the near future. She is the love of my life as well as my best friend. Noor is kindhearted, patient, and creative in ways I could never begin to describe. She brings warmth and love with her everywhere she goes, and deserves a community just as all of us do.

Noor cooks the most wonderful meals you'll ever taste. She creates beautiful artwork from her own hands, including a hand-knitted blanket that I sleep with every night, and various hand-knitted goods that keep her friends and me warm in the cold. She has a great sense of humor and loves to make jokes, all of which I still laugh at years after she made them. Her smile is contagious and her hugs are the warmest you could ever imagine. Noor deserves the same warmth, love, and protection she offers others, given right back tenfold.

Please consider donating to support Noor, my sweetheart who I love so much. Every little bit helps, even if you can only donate one dollar/euro. Your support means the world to her, and me as well, and we send you all of our love. Let's support eachother, together. ❤️

Sincerely,

Caro ❤️

[iguana-eyanna]

To Break A Frozen Heart

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Reader

Summary: Sherlock loses the meaning of Christmas since he was a boy, but maybe he just needed a certain warmth to melt his frozen heart.

The frost-painted windowpanes scattered the shops illuminated the scene of bustling cheer as the distant songs of carolers echoed through the streets of London. Carriages were passing through the snow roads as young couples looked lovingly in each other's eyes.

Sherlock Holmes, on the other hand, observed the merriment with a distasteful frown as he was riding in the icy streets in a carriage. He adjusted his scarf, though the cold air was creeping in his lungs.

He hated Christmas with a passion. Since he was a child, his family was estranged to "affection" and "spirit of the holidays".

His mother did try to care for them but his father was a strict man, barely uttering a word to him and Mycroft as they were sent to reform school with no warning. No Christmas present was sent to the boys and Sherlock often escaped to the roof of his school and stared up in the stars, hoping that a shooting star could grant him just one Christmas to be spent with someone who cared for him.

But alas, his father later passed when Enola was a babe, Mycroft decided to be a stern government official, his mother shut off herself and Enola from the world, and Sherlock was forced to figure out life himself.

And now against his beliefs of staying at home and relearning Mozart's Symphony on his violin, he was forced to ride with a special heiress to one of the biggest landowners in England: You to be in fact. You were both traveling to Saint Jerome's orphanage as you often came to do acts of service and spend time with the children.

“I still don’t understand your enthusiasm for this season,” he muttered, looking at you with unamused eyes.

You, on the other hand, were glowing—dressed in a rich yet simple gown that complemented the joy dancing in your features, too gleeful to notice Sherlock's demeanor.

“Sherlock,” you said, placing a gentle hand on his lap.

“Christmas is a time to give, to bring warmth to those who need it. Surely, even the great detective can see the value in that.”

He huffed but said nothing as you wrapped your scarf tighter and prepared for the day’s itinerary. It was your first holiday with Sherlock, and you wanted to help warm up his cold heart. You thought maybe if you put things into perspective, he could find the child like joy he once forgot and take your courtship to a new beginning. But for now, you were grateful to take this one step with him.

Soon, you arrived to the St. Jerome's as Sherlock assisted you out of the carriage alongside a few sacks of treats and toys that you bought for the children.

"Oh Madam! It is so lovely to see you again." Mary, an elderly Scottish woman who was the main guardian said as she walked up to the two of you.

"Mary! It is lovely to see you again. I want to introduce you to a very special someone in my life, Mister Holmes."

Sherlock takes off his hat for formality and nods his head.

"It is a pleasure to meet you." He says respectfully.

"Come, come. Let us talk inside before you meet the children." She ushers you inside.

"We're going to meet the children?" He asks, not expecting to mingle.

You give him a stern look, ushering him to keep his snide remarks to himself as he reluctantly agrees to stay silent.

"Have any of the young boys and girls gone to new homes yet?" You ask as you settled in her office with Sherlock.

"A few have found homes, but some weren't so lucky. But we try to give them a good foundation here."

"I know Mary, you do so much work here. Never doubt that." You said as you gave her an enormous hug. Sherlock notices your deep connection to the guardian and ponders the relationship until a younger woman arrives in the office.

"Mary, the children are eager to meet the Madam as they saw her carriage by the front."

You smile widely, looking at Mary for permission. She couldn't help but smile back at you and cross her arms.

"You know what to do, love. Have fun."

Sherlock had to race after you with the leftover bags as you went into the dining hall where the children yelled out for joy at your presence.

You started to give fresh fruits, sweets, miniature wooden horses, trains, dolls to the young boys and girls. Sherlock saw how you embraced the children with such a free spirit, not fearing of ruining your dress or pick pocketing your personal items. You trusted these kids and they trusted you.

"Excuse me mister," a young boy says as he pulls the partial fabric from Sherlock's coat.

"I like your watch." He points out to the pocket watch that Sherlock sported.

"Oh... Thank you. It was my father's." He said, slowly kneeling to the boy's eye view.

"My father died last winter. Me and my sister couldn't keep any of his things." he said, bowing his head.

Sherlock felt a sudden pang in his chest. Was it remorse? He couldn't recognize the feeling but his eyes soften.

"I'm sorry to hear. My father died when I was younger too." Sherlock said.

"It's okay to cry. My sister, Florence, says it's okay to cry sometimes."

"Elias, where are you?" A voice cried out as the young boy in front of him whipped his head.

A girl who looked about 12 years old went up to the boy and Sherlock.

"Elias, I told you not to walk off without me knowing. I thought you ran off again!" The sister, Sherlock presumed, said as she held Elias tightly.

"Sorry, Florence." Elias said as he looks down.

Florence looks at the man suspiciously as she held Elias' hand.

"I'm sorry for the trouble mister. It won't happen again." She said as she ran off with Elias in tow.

Sherlock rose up, seeing the two siblings escape in the flow of children that were now eating or playing with their toys. He brushed himself off as he sought out to find you. He was bewildered to see you outside in the snow field as you were kicking a ball between the children in your velvet gown and heeled boots. You were smiling ear to ear, and saw how your nose was red like a cranberry. It made Sherlock chuckle a bit as he watched from afar.

“Mr. Holmes,” Mary said softly, approaching him with a cup of tea as Sherlock gratually took it.

“You’re lucky to have her. She’s a treasure.”

Sherlock beams with sudden pride. “I’m well aware.”

Mary looks and sees you tumble down accidentally from a sheet of ice. Sherlock almost ran out to help you, but you just broke into a fit of laughter. He even saw Florence and Elias nearby as they tried to help you up and saw how you talked to them intently.

"How often does she visit here?" He asks curiously.

"Since she became a young woman. Sure, high society would throw a coin our way to help them feed their reputation but not her. She comes every Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter. She's an angel whose soul cradles a mother’s love, though her body cannot.”

Sherlock whips his head to her, knitting his eyebrows.

Mary frowned. “Did she ever tell you?"

The conflicted man turns away and looks down at the ground.

"No, she did not."

As the sun began to set, you bid a sad farewell to the children as they waved you goodbye as you left with Sherlock. Along the ride to your estate, you were confused of Sherlock's silence.

As you two shared a tense Christmas Eve meal together, you could sense his mind was elsewhere. It wasn't until you had enough and spoke aloud.

"Sherlock."

He blinks repeatedly, realizing he never touched his dinner.

"Is everything alright?" You ask with concern.

He looks up to you, feeling his emotions get the best of him.

"You lied to me." He says in a small voice.

"What do you mean?" You ask again.

Sherlock tried to lock eyes with you, but he couldn't face you.

"Why didn't you tell me you couldn't bear children?"

Your eyes rounded as well as your lips, but you set aside your cutlery as you placed your hands in your lap.

"Mary told you..." You said, not surprised.

Sherlock rose from his seat and started pacing around.

"I should have seen the signs. You showed no symptoms of your courses when we were together-"

"Sherlock..."

"-and when we pass new parents with their baby you wipe a tear from your face-"

"Sherlock-"

"-and all of these trips to St. Jerome's. You're just trying to fill this hole in your heart-"

"ENOUGH!" You stood up as he stopped. You couldn't believe what he just acclaimed, and you knew you had to put him in his place.

"This is why I didn't tell you, Sherlock. Firstly, I am not a case to be deduced and secondly, I dearly love those children. What you accuse otherwise is a distasteful remark."

You sit back down, feeling your words choke but refused to make eye contact with him.

"I was 17 when I found out. All my hopes to become a mother just... faded away. But then I see all of these children alone and cold during this time of year. That's when my purpose changed, that's when I wanted to become something bigger than myself."

Sherlock looks at your somber state, feeling the guilt rise up his throat. He tries to get closer to you.

"I... I didn't mean-"

You raise your hand in between you and him to create space.

"You have been nothing but cold and small minded today, Sherlock. I don't want someone like that in my life. And for that, I ask for you to leave, now."

Sherlock was stunned by your words but you were right. He has hurt your honor, and he was only making things worse with his presence.

He rushes out of the dining room and collected his coat and hat, as he heard soft cries behind him.

Sherlock just decided to walk back to his apartment to make sense of your past secret.

Why did you not tell him? How did he not notice all these clues?

His thoughts grew louder until a small figure bumped into him and ran away.

Sherlock looks down to see if anything was missing until he realized his pocket watch was missing. He whips his head back and forth until he sees the same figure by a lamp post.

"You! Stop there!" Sherlock yells as he raced the fast figure.

They were at an arm's length and Sherlock grabbed them by the arm and turned them around, wanting to confront his burglar.

"Alright young man, why did you do such a-"

Sherlock's words get swallowed as he realizes he found Florence, whose hair was tucked in a hat as she held the clock firmly in her other hand.

"I'm sorry sir, I had to! Please don't turn me into the police. I'm the only family Elias has!"

Sherlock's face slacks as he unfurls his brow and gives a solemn look.

"I won't turn you in, but we are going to St. Jerome's to have a chat with Miss Mary."

Sherlock returns back to the orphanage with Florence as Mary shares fruitful words to the young girl.

"How dare you steal this man's watch, Florence. After everything him and the Madam did for us today... what do you say to him?" She scolds.

Florence looks back to the tall man and lowers her head.

"I'm sorry again Mr. Holmes." As she began to almost tear up.

Sherlock kneels down and gently smiles at her.

"It's alright Florence. My only hopes is that you never steal again."

"Go to bed, my dear girl, we will discuss your punishment tomorrow morning." Mary says.

Florence runs off, and Sherlock suddenly feels another pang in his chest.

"I do hope you don't give her a heavy punishment. She only had good intentions for her brother." He says as Mary sat by her table.

"We do not give rash punishments, but she will help around with chores around the building. But her heart is in the right place. Elias was sought for adoption, but he refused as he didn’t want to be separated from his sister since they didn’t have enough money to have the two of them. Florence must have thought if she could find the funds, they’d still be with each other.”

"That's a shame. They look very close to another." Sherlock responds, still thinking of his time here during the day.

"Do you have any siblings, Mr. Holmes?" Mary asks.

"A younger sister and an older brother." He says.

"Are you close to them?" She asks.

"I... try." He says, recollecting when was the last time he has been with Enola and Mycroft in the same vicinity.

But his thought fly elsewhere as his fixation of you grew.

"How did I not know of her condition?" he mutters to himself.

"We are often blinded from certain truths when one falls in love." Mary said as she goes up to the detective, who looked like he was carrying the weight of the world.

"When I first met the Madam, I knew from the start that she had an ache in her soul. But she pushed her problems away cause she there was so many others who faced more struggle than her. She may not mother children, but she's the reason why young boys and girls are given a childhood. Shouldn't that count for something?"

Sherlock stiffened, his sharp mind piecing together every memory, every fleeting comment you’d made about your past. He realized he’d never asked deeply, never probed. You’d shared your wealth, your kindness, and your heart, but not your history.

That shouldn't be the reason he should lose you forever.

"There's something I must do... but i acquire great help."

Mary beams proudly.

"Let's get to work."

+

You look out your window, seeing the snow fall down in the streets. It was Christmas evening, and it was silent in your estate. Although it was adorned with decorations and your staff grateful that they have been given bigger income for this time of year, your heart still felt heavy. You tried to move on and forget what Sherlock has said to you.

You then gotten dressed for the day as you were to return for the orphanage to help cook a Christmas dinner for the young children.

As you soon arrived, you knit your brow as many carriages lined around the streets of St. Jerome’s. Many status of class arrived with high spirits as you saw them holding boxed gifts or pantries of food. Once you entered the building, you gasped at the sight.

The building you we’re once in just the other day is filled of working class and upper class that mingled together as they entertained the children with songs or shared a meal together. Little boys and girls circled around a man who was carrying them or throwing them up in the air as they yelled for joy.

The man then resembled to…

“Sherlock?” You question yourself.

“Isn’t he a sight for sore eyes, love?” Mary asks as you whip your head to her

“Mary, what is going on?” You inquire.

“Sherlock happened. He stayed up all night decorating and spreading the word that that every child deserves a home. I was afraid there wouldn’t be enough children to go to new families but Mr. Holmes assured me otherwise.”

“That is correct. I contacted my family and they were quite moved to make sure no one was left behind.” Sherlock walks up to the two of you as he was smiling ear to ear.

You look around and you see a group of girls huddled around a group of women who were teaching them a sort of defense class as the young girls looked bewildered. An older woman winks at you before she returns her lesson.

You see Sherlock’s older brother, Mycroft, as he was reading A Christmas Carol to young children and adults. He looked so at ease, you almost didn’t recognize the man.

You then saw Enola as she was holding a young boy’s hand, as she introduced him to a distant relative that lived in the country side. They had a joyful reunion as you couldn’t help but wipe a tear from your eye.

“Sherlock, this is so wonderful.” You said.

Sherlock holds you in his arms as you felt the warmth radiating from his chest.

“Darling, you started this. Once I told others your name and how you devoted your time and wealth at St. Jerome’s, they found it in their hearts to do the same. I know I did.”

He brought you to a quiet corner as he held both of your hands.

"I have been unfair and unkind to you. The words I exchanged... they were out of insecurity. I hope that you can forgive me."

"Of course I do, Sherlock..."

"No. It's not enough. You've given so much to me in the time that i've known you. Your generosity, your ambition, your character... it makes me want to be a better man for you."

He kneels down with one knee and you gasp silently, slightly shaking your hands.

"Sherlock..." You knelt down as your eyes grew wide.

"I want to grow with you. I want us to build our life in an abundance of love and generosity. I want us to grow our family-"

"But you know I can't give you that." You said, your eyes watering.

"That's why they have something to give you." He said, motioning behind.

You saw Elias and Florence smiling widely as the young boy held the paper for you to grab. You reach over, confused until you open the seal, gasping loudly as you switch your head between the siblings and Sherlock.

"You're going to adopt them?" You ask.

"We are going to adopt them. You've shown me that family lies deeper than blood and bone. I want us to experience everything in this world, if you have me."

"And us!" Florence said, as she and Elias neared the two of you.

Sherlock laughs as he grabs a ring from his pocket and offers it to you.

"Will you make me the happiest man on Christmas Day and marry me?"

You nod your head as you smile ear to ear, grabbing Sherlock's face as you kiss him tenderly. An echoes of "ews" were exchanged between the siblings until you and Sherlock locked them in an enormous embrace.

"So we're going to be a family?" Elias asks you.

"Yes, my little Eli... we will together every Christmas, birthday, and every other day." You said

"I like that very much." Florence commented, smiling between her parents.

"Me too," Sherlock concluded, as he gave you one last kiss before you four walked back to the festivities where you shared the news and cheer.

These were the moments you cherished the most with your future husband, as life became a little more merry.

[brandycranby]

safe house

summary: escaped felons curtis and jake have found temporary shelter for the night... and you

pairing: dark!curtis everett x f!reader x dark!jake jensen

word count: 3.3k

warning(s): 18+ only!!! DARK FIC, explicit non-con/dub-con, hints of religous trauma/background, loss of virginity, rough sex, ball sucking, nipple play, humiliation, degradation, name calling, mind break, no happy ending

author's note: y'all had better read those warnings 🫢 this is 3,000+ words of porn w very little plot and a lot of talk abt sexually naive reader. i write virgins bc i am one and bc at heart im a horny blaspheming catholic w questionable kinks. got it? ok. dont like, just click away.

dividers by @aestelics and @cafekitsune

Storms hit fast up here upstate. You’ve gotten used to spying the grey clouds rolling in and immediately running to lock up the chickens.

But beyond the initial panic to batten down the hatches, stormy nights accompanied with the relaxing sounds of thunder and rain are more treats to be relished than something to be worried about. They mean calling it an early night and snuggling up.

So when the first droplets hit the window that evening, just after dusk, nothing remained on your mind besides climbing into bed. Not the garden that still needs to be weeded, the fence waiting for paint, nor the latest fight between the hens.

Not even the creaky front door that needs its lock replaced.

“Look at these shorts, fucking cute.”

A low voice breaks through the constant pitter-patter of torrential rain on the roof, bringing your consciousness to the surface. You whimper. Through the fogginess, you hear the sound of boots clomping around and the tell-tale squeak of drawers being pulled out.

That’s not right.

There shouldn’t be anyone with you in the house. But- voices. You twitch in your nest of blankets. Rain pounds the windows and the irresistible drag of sleep dulls your mind.

“Our luck doesn’t stop, Jensen. Look at this angel.”

Another voice rings out, closer now. It’s rougher and gravelly, mocking like a schoolboy that’s found some poor animal to torment.

Hot breath fans across your face while the edge of your bed dips. There’s a man- there are men in your house. You have to wake up. But you’re so sleepy and your limbs are so heavy. Thunder crashes far off in the distance.

But the men- what do you do? Should you play possum? Stay still? Maybe they’d go away.

A hand on your calf surprises you with its warmth. Fingers press into your skin, testing its firmness. Another finds the hem of your nightdress to drag it up, up, up…

The man at your legs chuckles. “White. That’s cute.” When he presses his face against your panties, you can feel the frames of his glasses, his nose bumping against your cleft, and a soft burst of air as he inhales.

You squeak and it echoes loudly in your bedroom. The stranger pauses, his breath warming your mound. Blood pounds in your ears as you quiver, still trying to hold still. You fist your hands in the blankets as quick breaths escape you. This is a bad dream, just a bad dream-

The bed sinks again, your heart sinking with it. A large body settles down next to you and a big hand wraps around your throat. “Time to wake up.”

The sudden slap on your sex makes you squeal, eyes flying open at the sting of it. And oh- you try to wiggle away for all of two seconds before the massive shadow between your legs quickly straddles you, pinning you down with his weight.

“Who are you?” you try to shout but it comes out a whisper. A little cry escapes you as he ignores you and tears the rest of your nightgown off, the cool air a sudden shock, prickling your breasts.

Lightning flashes through the window and you see your tormentor for the first time. His long nose, blonde hair and goatee, a jumpsuit that’s more gray than blue from all the mud on it.

The hand on your throat shifts to your jaw, wrenching your face up in a tight grip, and your eyes roll, finding blue ones that stare back with cold fire. This one, this one is more dangerous. He breathes a long slow breath, his beard a whisker away. There’s a predator’s stillness in the lines of his bulky body, clad in the same jumpsuit as his companion’s, equally as muddy.

His eyes appraise you with slow flicks from your face, frozen in horror, to your exposed chest, nipples pebbling in the cold air. His scrutiny makes you burn. The mortification suffocates you, it brings quick tears to your eyes, and you move to cover yourself. But the blond quickly lands another slap on your clothed mound and your arms are pulled away as he looks at you with a burning hunger.

“None of that, baby. ‘S alright, you can call me Jake,” he reaches out and thumbs the soft plush of your lips, “and this here’s my... roommate, Curtis.”

The two men share grins at some deeper joke but all you notice is the pounding of your heart and a strange ache between your legs. The feeling of their muscular bodies crowding your smaller one, their musk, their roughness. The things they could do to you, will do to you.

What would your parents say? Don’t let them touch you, don’t touch yourself- this is so wrong. This is wrong and a sin and they shouldn’t be in your bed and you shouldn’t think about their touch-

“Please let me go, please- ah!” You beg, beginning to cry as Jake’s large hand closes over one of your breasts, testing its weight as he squeezes. His appreciative groan makes your legs press together and you try fruitlessly to break their grips one more time.

“You’re such a pretty thing,” his thick fingers trace your nipple before pinching it. “Innocent, huh?”. He laughs as you mewl and beg him to leave you alone, you won’t tell anyone where they went, just go away, please. The insistent brush of his thumb across your sensitive tit sparks lightning in your veins no matter how you deny it. By your side, Curtis’s free hand comes to fondle your other breast roughly, twisting the nipple with a violence that your body had never been subjected to, that you’ve never been made to feel.

But the pleasure that wells up from his cruelty is addictive, rawer and stronger than you ever imagined even when you had tentatively explored your body in the past, under the covers and in the dark of night. You had rubbed yourself over your clothes, shame keeping you caressing actual flesh.

Now you cry out, confused and gulping loud sobs under the hand that grips your jaw. Jake coos at you and you meet his eyes with a pleading look, willing him to tell his friend to let you go, to stop hurting you.

The blonde grins at you instead and closes his mouth over your stiff nipple, lashing it with his hot tongue. His facial hair scrapes at your skin and you buck your hips, mewling. There’s a wetness like your monthly seeping out, but odder, slicker.

Jake slurps, sucking your dark nipple into his mouth and scraping it with his teeth. You shriek, you wail.

“Please, please, please,” You don’t know what you’re begging for anymore.

His hot mouth is all that’s grounding you, the sensations too much for you to comprehend. Your back arches and you turn your head to hide in the crook of Curtis’s neck, anywhere you can to escape these feelings. But his ripe smell fills your lungs and there’s no reprieve because his hand is still tormenting your other breast, skillfully trapping its peak between his fingers as he breathes into your ear.

“You can pretend like you don’t want it, you little whore. I know your type, getting all worked up from your tits being sucked, huh?” His chest rumbles with a pleased growl as your pathetic sobbing starts up again.

The terror in the air makes his hair stand on end, a high like no other coursing through his blood. Curtis can’t remember when he’s ever felt so alive. Not since he stole his first car and definitely not when he killed his last man. But the frightened noises that escape your lips have him rock hard, fuck, you’re so sensitive.

He thumbs your nipple harder, tugging this way and that, grinning viciously as you keen, an animal sound that joins the wet slurping filling the air. Your hips shake under Jake’s, who groans at every brush of your clothed mound against his cock, faster and faster until the knot of pressure that’s been pulling tighter finally snaps-

“That’s it, little girl. You like it when we play with your nipples?” Curtis’s smokey drawl is in your ear but you barely hear him, barely hear the thunder outside. There’s only their big hands on you, your aching breasts still being tugged on and sucked relentlessly, and the unceasing clenching of your sex. You sob, a mindless squeal of shock dying in your throat as your walls tremble, squeezing desperately around nothing.

Jake lets go of your abused tit with a pop, enraptured by your little mouth opened wide from pleasure, lips shining with spit and tears. His cock is an aching brand along his thigh and god, he wants to fuck that mouth, see your eyes fill with horror as he forces you to suck his fat cock, kiss his heavy balls after he drags them over your face. You’d be so good for him, so pliant and innocent. You’re definitely a virgin, he’s sure of that. It gets him even harder, balls tightening at the thought of you cockdrunk, sloppy and well-fucked.

“Ah…” Your tongue is heavy and you blink clumsily as Curtis turns your head towards him and forces his mouth on yours. The press of his lips is jarring, reigniting your fight as his beard scratches your cheeks. You push at him, trembling, baby fawn weak against his chest as he rolls over, displacing Jake.

All you can do is cry as Curtis’ tongue invades your mouth, stopping your breath until spots blur your vision. His hands grope your sides, your thighs, dipping under your panties to bruise your soft ass.

You’re wet all over, covered in tears, spit, and your own sinful slick that drips down and makes you whimper. Stained, bruised, lying in a pool of your own filth. Why, what is happening to you? Are you begging for mercy? Crying out in indignation- or is it pleasure- as Curtis holds you in place and tears off your panties, baring your hot twitching sex to their eyes.

“You liked that-” His hands on your mons, carding through your intimate hair. “No!” His fingers touching you, spreading your lips apart, depraved groans coming from both men. “Yes, you did. You were a bitch in heat."

"Nuh- ah!” His fingers, his calloused fingers, rubbing, teasing, pressing at the little nub hidden in your folds. You scream at the sparkles of pleasure, your body arching off the bed. You scream in grief, half in shock at the little losses of innocence this night has already brought you.

“Look at you, your pussy’s so wet.”

“Don’t cry, baby, we’ll take good care of you-”

“You’re going to take both our cocks in this tiny virgin cunt-”

“Fuck, look at her clench-”

“Rub our cum all over your pussy, your asshole-"

“- she’s gonna cum again.”

With a stroke of fear, you do. Crying softly, boneless with exhaustion as a second orgasm rips through your lower half, culminating at that hard little point of your sex. Your clit twitches weakly under Curtis’ wicked fingers, trapped between his index and middle, tugged at relentlessly.

His eyes never leave your pussy. Fuck is it messy - soppy and wet with your cum and the spittle he'd been unable to resist dripping on you, lost in pleasure. It's been too long since he's fucked a woman; he won't last a second if your cunt is as tight as he thinks it is. Jake won't either; the stupid kid shuffles up to the headboard where you lay weeping and pulls his dick out. The tip just barely misses your cheek as it bobs in the air, stiff and heavy.

Grunting, Curtis carefully slides his pointer finger up and down your wetness, he'll need to break you in as best he can. The plan was to grab cash, grab a car, and get out. Maybe pick up a whore along the way, pump and dump. But you, you change everything.

He pushes a thick finger in, feeling the hot sponginess of your walls. Your sobs are music to his ears and your nervous clenching makes his balls jump. The velvet softness of your pussy hides just how strong the muscles are. You're going to strangle his cock, he grins in realization. And if he trains you right, he'll get to feel your ass around him too.

He can see it now. You spread open, crying again, begging him not to touch your little asshole. So cute and innocent. He does it anyway, penetrating that tight ring of muscle with his fat cock, easing in the head to the sound of your screams. He'll fuck you good and deep, pressing you down so your hips curve into his and his pubic hair scrapes against your exposed pussy. He'll cum in you too and make you squeeze it out in front of him, squatting like a bitch.

But first, your pussy. He spits on you again, a big glob landing on your clit and you flinch. To his wonder, the second finger he fucks in you doesn't elicit another round of sobbing. Probably because you’re completely focused on Jake's cock two inches away from your face.

With wide eyes, you tremble under the barrage to your senses. Curtis between your legs is terrifying, yes, and the forceful intrusion to your body is equally unwanted yet pleasurable. But that, that presented in front of you is a completely new sight. One you’ve never been allowed to experience or even think about. What kind of girl thinks about men’s penises? A slut, a whore. Your grandmother had lots of names for girls like that.

“Come on, baby. Open up.” Jake’s sickly sweet croon shakes you out of your thoughts, his big hand cradling your jaw. With the other, he gives his cock a shake, thwapping it onto your cheek. Once, twice, the precum mixing with the tears still cascading down your face.

“I don't want to, please. Please.” You whisper to him, or both of them, shaking hard as Curtis adds a third thick finger, stretching you open in a gut-churningly painful way.

Neither think to respond. With a grunt, Jake shifts forward, gagging you with his balls as he jerks himself off with slow tight circling motions. Up and down the shaft, thrusting his sack deeper into your mouth. His musk is overwhelming, a strong heady scent that’s entirely man and sweat. It saturates his hairy balls, the crease of his thigh, and the fly of his jumpsuit bumping against your face.

You can’t see anything, the thick length of him covers your eyes. No matter how hard you try to take your mind off what’s happening by praying or pleading or begging, your senses magnifies the situation tenfold.

Jake’s skin is salty, velvety. Soft and thin but pulsing hot in your mouth. You can feel when his balls jump when your tongue accidentally brushes up against the seam while trying to find room to go. He pulls them from your lips, the act accompanied with a slobbery pop.

There’s no reprieve - instead he drags the fat mushroom tip of his cock along your features, rubbing it between your soft lips even as they press closed in a vain attempt to prevent any more assault.

“She’s ready.”

Curtis shucks off his jumpsuit, pushing it down to his hips and baring his hairy torso in one violent motion. He sees you when you jolt, your eyes following the trail of hair down to the darkest point, where it all culminates above his cock, half-trapped but straining against the waistband. He pulls it out and his balls too, letting them rest on your soft tummy. It heaves, he grins as he feels you try to suck in your stomach, pulling yourself away from his presence the only way you can.

Fat chance. He knows it, Jake knows it, and you know it too from the look on your face. Eyes never leaving him, waiting for his next move.

Good girl, smart girl. Innocent and naive as shit but smart enough to know that he’s the danger in this room. Not the two-bit cybercriminal still trying to coax your mouth open.

Taking his cock in hand, he flicks the head through your cunt, taking in the warm wet feel of your everything. The hard nub of your clit, the delicate inner lips, the roughness of your pussy hair made soft by the amount of juice he’s forced you to squirt out. A feral grin splits his face when you cry out in pleasure. He rubs up and down your pussy, spitting on you again and watching you jerk when it lands and smears all over your formerly pristine and proper little snatch.

“That’s it,” Curtis snarls, catching his tip on your pussy hole. “Get used to it, princess, you’re going to be fucked like a five dollar whore whenever I want from now on.”

You open your mouth to scream something back or wail or cry more, he doesn’t care, but Jake finally takes the opportunity to shut you up, plugging your mouth with as much of his cock as he can. Which isn’t much, he realizes when it won’t go in past the first few inches.

There’s so much for you to learn, debaucheries to subject you to. The thought of them has his head swimming as he finally pierces into you, penetrating slowly but surely until he has your legs pressed up to your chest, opened up so he’s in you so deep, he’s got his balls against your asshole and his pubes tickling your clit.

Then he fucks you, hard and deep at a pace he loves and you despair at. In and out of your virgin pussy. Squelching sounds filling the air as you’re invaded from both ends. Curtis grabs your breast again, pinching your nipple and twisting it, rubbing the pad of his finger against the tip to his thrusts that jolt you against the bedsheets like a rag doll.

Spit flows from your mouth, gagged wide open by Jake’s dick, his balls slapping against your jaw. You can’t see, you don’t want to see anymore.

No more proof of how these men are taking you apart and dirtying you beyond recognition. Shame will come later when you’re making breakfast for them in your own house while they sit at your kitchen table and put their feet up on your nice chairs. How dare you give in so easily? How dare you just lay there and take it and get so wet, the bedsheets were damp like you had pissed yourself. Maybe you had, you don’t know.

After the first round, they had you for another. That time Jake filled your gaping pussy with his cock, using Curtis’ cum as extra lube, uncaring that it covered his balls along with the rest of his cum and your saliva. And Curtis was on top of you, wiping his cock on your face, smearing the mix of your pussy juice and his seed on your eyelashes and cheeks, making you smell yourself on him.

“Clean me up,” he said, palm on your forehead to force it back so you could see him in his massive glory. His shaven head made him look so burly and manly that you quickly obeyed, jaws tired but still opening so he could run the length of his cock up and down your tongue and face, making sure to drop his balls in your mouth so you could suck at them like a lamb trying to nurse. Half in confusion and half trying to seek comfort in desperation.

You’ll have to learn how to live with it, the thought strikes you through the fog of brutal treatment. The shame. You flatten your tongue for one of them to spill in your mouth again. Time passes in a weird stretch so that you don’t know what’s happening or what they’re doing to your body. Isn't it better this way? To give in to their maelstrom?

It'll come back to you in the morning though.

Just wait.

It'll always come back.

clearly i worked through some stuff writing this... 😳 anyways i started this in 2021. happy thanskgiving everyone 🥰🫶🏻

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