#all aboard the thirst train!

[aesopsharpmybeloved]

Pine-ing For You

Father Paul has a little accident while trying to set up Christmas lights and you decide to get festive.

I got this idea while chatting with @aherdofbees​, and together we developed it to get our dear priest into quite the delicious situation. She made a 𝓫𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓱𝓽𝓪𝓴𝓲𝓷𝓰 illustration that goes with this fic. Go on, click the linkie and like and reblog, because it truly is amazing. 

Thank you so much for the inspiration Allison, I loved writing this!

NSFT/18+ GO AWAY CHILDREN

Pine-ing For You - 5.3K

tw: explicit sexual themes, consensual unprotected sex, body worship, smut with a lot of feelings™, attmepts at humour

Crockett Island may have seemed dull most of the time to the untrained eye, but after more than a year of living there you knew better. The people, while many of them a bit subdued, all had their little joys in life, their passions, and though they were wary of strangers that came into their little town at first, they were among the most kind and hospitable folks you had the good fortune to have met.

However, when Christmas rolled around, even the untrained eye could perceive the shift in atmosphere. It was a jolly holiday after all and the people indeed were slightly jollier. Little by little, decorations began appearing around the island. Many of them were small and decent, maybe just a wreath on a door, or an electric candlestick set in a window. Some were larger, Christmas lights on the roof, perhaps a little reindeer in the front yard. Few decorated more.

Some of these more festive looking places were the schoolhouse, which had student-made snowflakes in the windows, garlands on the windowsills, lights hung from the roof and even a charming wooden nativity scene in front. The Flynn house and The Greene house also breathed a gentle Christmas atmosphere to everyone who walked by. And then, there was Saint Patrick’s. Apparently, Monsignor Pruitt adored Christmas more than anyone else on the island and it showed. Dozens and dozens of various decorations were found in one of the storage areas of the church by Father Paul, who literally begged you to help him put them up. Which you were more than happy to do.

So now there were artificial swags at every corner of the small church, boughs of holly, wreaths, candles and another nativity set, placed right in front of the altar. This one was more detailed and painted, obviously made to be inside rather than face the weather conditions. And it was quite obvious Monsignor Pruitt took great pride in his decor collection. All that was missing were some Christmas trees.

—

Many residents of Crockett Island used artificial trees for their Christmas festivities, but there were still those who couldn’t imagine celebrating their lord’s birthday without a fine fir or a pine. One day, about a week before Christmas, a group of volunteers would gather on one of the larger fishing ships and set off to the mainland to pick out live trees for everyone on the island who wanted one. Ordering worked through simple paper forms, delivered to mailboxes by Dolly Scarborough. One would write down their name, preferred kind of tree, and its size. Filled out forms were then dropped off in the little town hall, along with the money for it. Unlike everyone else (including you) who ordered only one tree, Father Paul ordered three - two larger to be placed inside the church, one smaller for his rectory. He was, of course, among the volunteers going to actually pick the trees up.

They returned around eleven o’clock in the morning. You stood on the dock, looking at the fishing boat full of tied trees with a smile. Paul would be hauling the trees for Saint Patrick’s and the rectory first, with the help from Ed and Riley Flynn, and you convinced Sturge to help you carry the large pine tree you asked for to your home.

“Thank you again,” you said, walking next to him. You genuinely tried to help him carry it, but after a few minutes of very awkward walking and a few broken off twigs, the handyman simply threw the big tree over his shoulder and hauled it the rest of the way by himself. “Do you accept payment in gingerbreads?” you asked with a grin and raised eyebrows. Sturge thought for a while: “Yeah. But it will cost you.” “Oh? How much?” you chuckled. “I want the entire sheet.” You gave a whistle and made an amused ‘tsk’ sound: “Inflation these days…”

—

Two hours later, you stood at your kitchen counter, decorating gingerbreads with white chocolate. The pine stood tall and proud in your living room. It truly was a beautiful tree, healthy and dense, its herby scent, having already filled the room it stood in, was seeping through the rest of your house. You heard the front door open and shut, followed by some shuffling from the hallway.

“Hmm, it smells nice in here,” came a dreamy voice, making you smile. When footsteps began approaching the kitchen, you turned around to greet the priest. But then: “What are you wearing?” you asked, laughing softly. Father Paul was dressed in his skinny jeans, like usual. What wasn’t usual however, was the 'ugly Christmas jumper' instead of the black clerical shirt, its colour reminding you of his gold chasuble. There was a white nordic pattern on front, consisting of snowflakes and reindeers. It didn’t look terrible, but since you never before saw Paul wearing something like this, it kind of took your breath away for a moment.

“Do you like it?” asked Paul with a smile, pulling at his sleeves which you noticed were rather tight at the wrists. “It’s hideous,” you replied snarkily, making the priest chuckle and walk closer to you. He noticed the half decorated gingerbreads right away and was just about to reach for one when you lightly slapped his hand away. “Ouch. What was that for?” asked Paul, fake hurt in his voice. You giggled and wrapped your arms around his torso: “These are for Sturge, for lending me a hand with that tree.” “Oh I see,” replied your lover, understanding on his face, “will you make some for us, too?” You rolled your eyes and couldn’t help but smile: “Of course I will, have I ever neglected you?”

Paul pulled you close to press a soft kiss against your lips, claiming your entire attention. Therefore, you didn’t notice his hand slowly creeping up and onto the counter until it was too late, and one of the gingerbreads was snatched and promptly bit into by the father. “You scoundrel!” you smacked his chest, while Paul only laughed with his mouth full, “you’re lucky I love you.”

He swallowed his bite and batted his eyelashes at you: “it must be the sweater.” You smirked and squinted your eyes. “The jumper is hideous,” you repeated and Paul shook his head: “You really think that?” You didn’t. Taking him in once more, you had to admit that it did look rather flattering on Paul’s tall lean frame. “I knew it,” he said smugly, “you can’t lie to me, you like it.” “I don’t like it,” you tried once more, the corners of your lips turning up inadvertently. Paul took another bite of the gingerbread: “Hm, you love it.”

A few moments later, during which you picked at the soft wool of your lover’s jumper while he hummed appreciatively at the taste of your baking, you gave him a kittenish smile: “Since you’ve got nothing better to do right now than be a menace,” he opened his mouth in mock-offence before smiling cheekily, “you could go and start with the Christmas tree, what do you say?” “Hm,” he thought, “I thought we’d do it together?” Your arms encircled his waist again, pulling him closer and lifting your head to meet his eyes: “We will, but you could at least start putting the lights on. It’s a beast of a tree and I wouldn’t be able to reach the top, unlike a certain tall priest.”

He gave you a soft smile and pecked the tip of your nose, before brushing his lips against yours: “Very well.” You watched in curiosity, as his hands came up to rest on your hips and his eyes bore into your own. And then, in less than a second, he was scrambling away, another gingerbread in his hand. You gasped and stared after him, mischievous dark eyes twinkling at you until he rounded a corner. “Unbelievable!” you called after him.

—

You were pretty happy with your work, before you on the counter lay a sheet of nicely decorated gingerbreads of various shapes. Save for the two Father Paul stole right under your nose, but you supposed Sturge wouldn’t really notice that. You were in the middle of moving them into a container, when a dull thud sounded from the living room. “Paul? Is everything alright?” you called. A deafening silence was your only answer for several seconds and you started getting worried, when Paul’s sheepish voice reached your ears: “Um… A little help here, (F/N)?” You finished storing the cookies away, wiped your hands on a kitchen towel and made your way to the living room.

You couldn’t see the priest at first, but when you did, you began giggling uncontrollably. Paul was lying on his stomach very nearly under the tree, the christmas lights cord in his outstretched hand. His torso was bare and you could see the yellow jumper and white undershirt tangled around Paul’s arms, caught on one of the tree’s strong branches. He was looking at you abashed, his cheeks a little rosy with embarrassment.

You learned fairly early on in your relationship that for all of Paul’s amazing qualities, his skill as a priest, his knack for cooking, and his knowledge of your body as a lover, he was sometimes quite clumsy and very accident prone. A week wouldn’t pass without him bashing his little toe on some piece of furniture and you’d often find small bruises on his arms and legs, prompting him to sheepishly explain the cause for them. It was usually doors.

“I’m so sorry,” you said after you caught your breath and walked closer to him, kneeling by his side, “but what happened?” Father Paul released a huff and an adorable pout formed on his lips. “I wanted to turn on the lights. I got under the tree, on my knees, and tried to plug the cord into the socket. I couldn’t reach it though, and wanted to get out, try a different angle. But, um,” he paused, wetting his lips with his tongue, “I caught my shirt on a branch. I tried to untangle it, but couldn’t. So I thought I’d just try to take the shirt off, free it from the branch and put it on again. This is as far as I got…” The priest looked angrily at his hands, “the sleeves are too tight at the wrists, I can’t get my hands out! I mean, I tried yanking away, but the tree swayed rather nastily and I was worried it would collapse on top of me.”

“Wait,” you said with an amused grin, “are you really actually trapped? You can’t get out of there?” Father Paul 'tsked: “Yes. I am trapped under a Christmas tree. Can you help me?” You smiled softly at him and pet his hair. You proceeded to move forward, crawling under the tree yourself (mindful of any mischievous branches) and snatching the cord from Paul’s hand. You plugged it in and the living room was suddenly illuminated by multicoloured Christmas lights. You crawled back and sat leisurely on the ground, close to the priest’s head. Paul looked at you expectantly for a while, but after seeing you showed no intention to free him, a look of shock came over his face: "Wha- You're really going to leave me here?”

You once more moved your hand to his head, fingers carding through his dark hair: “'Leaving you' is the last thing on my mind,” you moved until you were lying down next to him, hand now coming to stroke his cheek and jaw, “but right now, I think I like you exactly. Where. You. Are,” you exaggerated each word, thumb moving to stroke the edges of Paul’s lips. “You look like an early Christmas present,” you purred, leaning your head on your free hand. Paul closed his eyes at the feeling of your clever fingers once again combing through the soft curls on the back of his neck. “Are you-... are you really trying to seduce me while I’m trapped under a Christmas tree?”

You giggled airily, tugging at the soft hair gently and delighting in Paul’s tiny little gasps: “Hmm, maybe… Is it working?” Paul’s head fell down to lean on his arms, his cheeks got even darker and in a quiet voice he replied: “A little.” You slowly scratched at his scalp, smiling lovingly each time he leaned into your touch. "Hey," you said then, prompting him to open his eyes and look at you. Your thumb found his lips again and you gave him a look he could read perfectly by now. 'Tell me you're not ok with this and I'll stop.' it said. Warmth spread through Paul's chest, followed by a gentle tingle of anticipation.

He pressed his lips against your thumb further in a small kiss, before smiling slightly and blinking at you coquettishly, and he too attempted to speak to you with his eyes: ‘I want this’.

You gave him one more gentle smile, before leaning back and looking at him appreciatively: “My, my, I must have been so nice this year, what a lovely present.” The priest chuckled into his arms: “Are you going to tear the wrapping paper off?” Your head cocked to the side, a wolfish grin on your face. One fingertip stroked along Paul’s earlobe, descending down upon his pulsepoint and feeling his increasing heartbeat. “Nope, I don’t do that, it’s no fun” you shook your head, “I always unwrap presents slowly, peeling the tape off and trying not to damage the paper. Sometimes I even stop midway, because the anticipation makes it so much better.

“I think I’ll start with the parts that are unwrapped already,” you purred into his ear and moved closer, both of your hands coming to rest on his shoulders while you pressed small kisses into his hair, lips moving down to brush against the nape of his neck. “Hm,” you sighed contently, “such a pretty neck, long and elegant, like a swan, almost regal,” you bit lightly at the beginning of his spine, making your lover release a short gasp, “so sensitive.” You moved lower, hands sliding across shoulder blades: “Beautiful golden skin, like honey, soft, and warm, and very sweet.” Father Paul could feel more hotness entering his already red cheeks. Your whispered praises always had a profound effect on him. He hid his face in his arms.

“Strong shoulders and back, muscles defined perfectly but gently,” you continued and now dragged your fingernails across the entire length of the priest's back, making him quietly groan in pleasure. You’ve never met anyone who didn’t like their back scratched, but Paul seemed particularly enraptured by it. You made sure to lightly graze every inch of the golden skin, finding all the right spots, all the while pushing hot kisses onto every single freckle you could see and connecting them with your tongue.

Paul couldn’t help but chuckle when he felt your hands give his clothed bum a squeeze. “Girls love a guy with a lovely arse, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise,” you whispered cheekily and gave the lovely arse another squeeze, “alright, let me see the other side of this present before I start unwrapping it further.”

You helped Paul carefully roll over and onto his back, his wrists, still bound by his own clothes, now crossed over one another. Dark hair peeked at you from under the priest’s arms, and his pink nipples looked like little pearls screaming for attention. And they weren’t the only thing craving attention. Paul’s erection was tenting the dark grey skinny jeans and his eyes fluttered when you ran a finger over it. You gave him a grin: “Sorry, I’ve always been a little impatient, but I promise I’ll try to be good.” Paul shuddered out a laugh, his breathing a little shallow: “I wouldn’t be mad either way.”

Slowly you put a leg over his waist and straddled your lover: “Now, where were we? Oh, yeah,” you leaned forward and took his face into your hands, thumbs caressing his brow. “Thick, expressive eyebrows… Dark eyes, so, so large. Like a dolly,” you leaned forward to press your lips against Paul’s eyelids, then pulled away again, “cute, well defined nose, perfect for kissing,” once more you made your point by pecking the entire length of your lover’s nose, making him produce a fluttery chuckle.

“Though, of course, your entire face is perfect for kissing,” you smiled at him lovingly and then your fingers traced the edges of his lips, “but most of all it’s your mouth. That perfect cupid’s bow. I see it, and I want to trap it between my own lips. When you smile, when you pout, when you do that adorable little mouth shrug… When you talk, to me, to your congregation. When your mouth is slightly open and I can see your upper teeth just peeking through. I always want to kiss you.”

You crushed your lips against Paul’s, teeth clashing and tongues moulding against each other. He groaned into your hungry mouth and wanted to curl his arms around you, but soon remembered he was bound and released a desperate sound instead. You only parted from him when the lack of oxygen threatened to take your consciousness away. A tiny string of saliva followed you for a bit, before it snapped and landed on Paul's kiss bruised lips. You kissed the slight cleft in his chin and playfully dipped your tongue into it.

The emotion in your eyes as you pulled back could have made Paul cry, you were looking at him as if he was the rarest jewel, the most fantastical treasure in the world, as if he was your sun and moon and stars. “You have no idea just how beautiful you really are, do you? Inside and out,” you whispered, hands returning to stroke the side of the priest’s face, which was once more getting hot. This time however, he couldn’t hide it and as he lay there, absorbing each and every one of your words, Paul realised he didn’t even want to hide. You leaned closer again, whispering against his open mouth: “So beautiful, so very pretty.” An involuntary moan escaped him.

You smiled against his mouth, then ducked your head lower, nibbling softly around Paul's jawline before descending upon his throat, teeth scraping over his Adam's apple right as he swallowed heavily. You shifted until you sat directly on his hips and rolled your own, rubbing against his constricted erection and making his head fall back, those fine lips opening wordlessly. He took large gulps of air, hands involuntarily trying against his restraints once more. “Soon,” you promised, rolling your hips again, “but do try not to move your hands too much. I really don’t want the tree to actually fall down on our heads. Can you imagine explaining that to Sarah, when we show up all bruised and battered?”

The priest made an unhappy little sound, but tried to keep his hands as still as he could anyway. You made your way down his chest, nuzzling your face into his soft skin and delivering soft kisses and playful bites every time you felt like it. Paul sighed when your lips reached one of his nipples. You circled the nub with your tongue before sucking it into your mouth and pinching it with your teeth lightly. You used your fingers to stimulate the other nipple in perfect synchronisation with your mouth, trying various techniques and listening to Paul’s shallow gasps and quiet groans for feedback.

After alternating between the two, now red and swollen, buds for several minutes, you decided to carry on with your adventurous journey across Paul’s exquisite body, and ran the tips of your fingers against his ribs teasingly. You grinned widely when your lover made a little jump, trying to get away from your touch now: “N-no, don’t,” he gasped, but it was pointless. You again stroked over his ribs and under his arms, and was soon rewarded with choked laughter. “A-angel, please… please don’t tickle me right now,” he begged in between chuckles. You giggled, but took mercy on him, climbing up to steal a kiss: “I’m sorry, love, I couldn’t resist.”

You sat back onto his thighs and gave the priest a reassuring smile after you laid your hands on his sensitive ribs again, this time your entire palms, intent on caressing him and bringing him pleasure. You stroked down, soon finding an obstacle in your way. Father Paul’s jeans looked so, so tight around his hard shaft it must’ve been painful, and you licked your lips as you made eye contact with him and rubbed the heel of your hand over his length. He shuddered and his eyes fluttered closed on their own. You repeated the motion, making your lover groan with pleasure.

“I think it’s time for me to unwrap my present,” you whispered huskily and waited for him to look at you. When he did, you sat even further away, all the way above his knees, and began making a show of popping open the button and torturingly slowly pulling his zipper down. Your fingers curled below the waistline on each side of the trousers and you tugged them down, little by little, revealing one, then two edges of his hip bone, protruding under his skin enticingly. You left the jeans bunched in the middle of his thighs and observed the priest amorously.

His hands, still crossed at the wrists above his head were balled into fists, fingers white at the knuckles. Paul’s face was flushed dark pink, with sweat gathering in his hairline, one drop of it having already rolled down his cheek. His lips were swollen from kissing. Well, his upper lip anyway, the bottom one was currently trapped between Paul’s teeth, but you presumed it’d be in a similar condition. He was breathing hard, his eyes dark with lust, and there was a damp spot on the front of his grey boxer briefs. You bowed to press a wet kiss just below his sternum, then lower, then lower again, relishing the soft tender skin of the priest's tummy.

You drew a circle around Father Paul’s belly button with your tongue and started pinching the area underneath with your teeth, teasing at the happy trail going down into his underwear. You looked up after reaching the waistband, catching your lover’s intense gaze. He whimpered softly when instead of going where he needed you the most, you bit into that tempting hip bone. “Please…” he whispered, feeling like he was going to go insane if you were to tease him much longer. Paul didn’t even realise his eyes were closed until your soft hand touched his cheek and he opened them again. You were smiling at him warmly, a look filled with tenderness. He willingly opened his mouth for you when you moved your hand to the back of his neck and kissed him soundly.

At the same time you finally pushed your hand under the waistband of his briefs and took a hold of his aching member. Paul moaned into your mouth in relief, his eyes shutting closed and eyebrows turning upwards. You fondled his manhood steadily, massaging it slowly with your thumb drawing little circles into the heated skin. He breathed hard against your mouth once he had to part for breath, and you stuck your tongue out to trace his lips before pushing it back between them. You were slow in your movements, yet Paul soon found himself nearing his peak.

“Wait,” he managed to get out and you let go of him right away. He tried to convey what he wanted with his eyes and, thankfully, you seemed to understand.  You climbed off of him, lying down by his side instead so you could make out some more. From his position, Paul now had some access to your neck and he immediately used this fact to his advantage, pressing sloppy kisses and bites against your pulse point while you massaged his scalp with your fingers. He attempted to duck his head lower, but was held back by his restraints. He gave you another pleading look and you started removing articles of your own clothing, as well as ridding him of the jeans and boxers entirely.

Once you were as naked as he (save for the jumper and shirt tangled on his arms), You climbed back over him, bracing yourself on one hand above his head and pushing your bosom level with his face. Wasting no time, Paul began kissing the sensitive skin, tongue darting out to circle your nipples and flick over them. Meanwhile, your other hand was between your legs, two fingers slowly moving inside your heat in a scissoring motion, stretching yourself. You rested your head against Paul’s, your content sighs fanning over the priest’s black hair.

Suddenly, Paul produced an alarmed sound and turned his head away. You immediately lifted yourself off him. “Are you alright? Did I hurt you?” you asked, your arousal now mixed with worry. He screwed his eyes shut before releasing a sheepish chuckle: “No, no, nothing like that. It’s just-... um, there is a pine needle getting somewhere it definitely should not be getting.” You started laughing quietly, Paul joining you shortly after. After you fished out the pine needle from under the back of his thigh and made sure there were no more pointy things threatening anything vital, you wanted to lean forward again, but Paul stopped you. “I want to watch,” he said. You smiled down at him and made a show of fucking yourself with your own fingers.

Once you felt sufficiently ready, you pulled your digits out and moved down Paul’s body, pushing your hips together. You rolled your hips a few times, the underside of the priest’s cock sliding through your wet folds. Using your now free hand, you reached behind yourself and guided your lover inside. Paul bent one leg at the knee and pushed his hips up to meet you halfway. Both of you choked out a small gasp. Despite your preparation, you needed a few moments to get used to Paul’s width.

You experimentally raised your hips before sinking back, trying to find an angle that worked the best for you. A few thrusts later, you felt a bolt of pleasure shoot through your spine and into your core, and grinned. You lowered yourself until your body was flush with Paul’s and carefully slipped your arms under his, hands coming to tangle into his hair. You connected your foreheads and looked into his eyes deeply as you started thrusting against him in that brilliant angle.

Paul’s laboured breathing and delicate moans blew across your cheeks, warming them more than the blood gathered there. You tilted your head to the side and let your lips connect in an uncoordinated kiss, keeping your eyes open. Paul’s hands were shaking from how much he wanted to reach out for you, all the while keeping in mind that was the only thing he couldn’t do, so he instead tried to convey all the ways he wanted to touch you in through his mouth, sucking on your lower lip, biting your tongue gently, licking a wet strip along your jaw.

Your movements sped up and the fire within you started burning brighter, every single thrust like a spurt of gasoline into a flame. You hid your face into Paul’s heated neck, feeling his heart hammering away at a rapid speed, sensing his groans and whimpers before actually hearing them. You wrapped yourself around him completely, as if willing your bodies to mould into one. The priest bent his leg a bit more, gaining better leverage to pound up into you, feeling his upcoming release nearing as well.

Once Paul heard your moans becoming more urgent, felt your walls beginning to flutter around him and saw your thighs trembling, he started nudging your head with his own, wordlessly attempting to make you look at him, reveal your face. He loved watching you fall apart, your face showing nothing but pleasure, raw, almost unhinged. It was a sight only he was allowed to see, nearly sacred. You raised your head with some difficulty and rested it back against his, your pupils blown wide and constantly disappearing and reappearing behind fluttering eyelids.

You were on the very brink, moments before plummeting down into the abyss, and your hips lost all sense of rhythm. “Come for me, angel,” Paul groaned and delivered a sharp thrust upwards, effectively shoving you over the edge. Your fingers closed in his hair harshly and a wave of pleasure exploded in your core, shooting into your veins like a drug. You gasped violently, releasing a series of short high pitched whimpers as your heat began pulsing around Paul’s twitching shaft. He continued thrusting into you, hitting that little bundle of nerves and effectively prolonging your orgasm.

You were blushing everywhere, sweating, trembling through heaps of bliss, yet a drunken smile bloomed on your face. Your unfocused eyes connected with Paul’s, their gaze intense and almost desperate. “S-so, ah, you’re so b-beautiful, Paul,” you managed to stutter out, and then only watched the fireworks go off in those nearly black orbs. They widened for a millisecond and then, as if a rope snapped, you could see Paul fighting to keep them even open. You would have almost thought he was in pain, with his hands trembling violently, his mouth opening into an ‘o’ shape to release a long moan, and his head tilting back.

Your walls were painted white, spurt after spurt of hotness spreading through your core. Together you shook through the aftershocks, slowly coming down your highs. You collapsed against your lover, trying to get your breathing under control once more. Several minutes of lazy kisses and whispered words of love later, Paul tried tugging his arms free once more, causing some more pine needles to descend upon your cooling bodies. You groggily climbed up his body until you were able to reach the treacherous twig and untangle it from Father Paul’s shirt.

The priest stretched his arms and proceeded to pull both his jumper and shirt off of him, tossing them somewhere to your left. Finally, finally, he was able to hold you and immediately did just so. “You were right,” he said quietly, voice hoarse, “it is a horrible sweater.” You giggled and let yourself slide down and onto your side, lying next to him. “I don’t know,” you purred, your hand coming to caress his cheek, “I think it’s starting to grow on me.”

You shivered slightly, your body having already cooled down from your previous activities, and reached for a blanket which was draped over your sofa. You threw it over the two of you and got comfortable in the father’s arms. “If there was an advent calendar of making love during Christmas time, this would definitely be there. Under the tree,” you mused, your voice light and airy. “Wonder what would be hidden under ‘24’,” replied Paul in the same manner, “making love after the midnight Mass?” You grinned into his neck, one of your hands slowly massaging his shoulder: “A lovely suggestion.”

“Still want to decorate the tree?” he asked after a while, pressing small kisses into your hair. You murmured something unintelligible and hid your face again. Paul chuckled lowly: “Okay, shower and a movie then?” “Yeah,” you breathed into his skin, “we’ll do the tree first thing tomorrow.” Paul hummed in agreement. You lay cuddled beneath the Christmas tree, the colourful lights dancing on your bare limbs and the smell of pine lingering sweetly in the air. “We could decorate the one in the rectory after. And bake those gingerbreads only for us.”

A giggle started blooming in your chest, soon turning into a full on laughter. “You really are unbelievable!” you bit into your lower lip and pulled back to look into his large eyes. They reflected the big genuine smile on Paul’s face perfectly: “I’ll even wear the sweater.” You shook your head and quickly crushed your lips against his. Absolutely unbelievable.

Thank you for reading, I hope you had a good time c: As always, you can find this story and all of my other stories over on AO3. Please, be sure to check out @aherdofbees​ tumblr as well, she makes the most spectacular art!

the first tags are sentences I had to restrain myself from using in order not to look like the last bits of sanity finally packed their bags and kissed me goodbye

@everythingbutresolved @agirlinherhead​ @rothko-mirror​ @littleredwritingcat​ @vintageglassheart02​ @thexhostess​ @fatherpaulsimp​ @blackberries45​ @daughterofaries​ @exorcise-my-demons​ sending kisses ××

[tarrenterror25]

Andy Serkis Breaks Down His Most Iconic Characters | GQ

Ulysses Klaue in Black Panther

GQ Interview with Andy Serkis

That last bit tells me he MUST know he’s fine and knows what he looks good in 😩✨💕 Y’all can’t convince me otherwise ✋✨

[brewed-pangolin]

I want my coffee like I want my CoD men. Bold, strong, and full of sweet cream.

I feel like I owe it to the people to post these together

Gaz is next and Price after him the people decided 👍

LOOK AT THE M U GS

[sugarpasteltmnt]

First of all, I gotta say that I absolutely LOVE your fic. I read the first chapter and just... didn't stop reading lol. It was so compelling and the way you describe emotions and depict Leo's mental state is so good!!!! I can't get enough of it. I love how you write his manic thought process and the way that his thoughts jump around in a very 'word association' type way! (That's super accurate to manic episodes!) I also really like the way that his awareness ebbs and flows and how you are able to indicate that to the reader while also maintaining the narrative. For real, kudos to you, that's a super difficult thing to do and you've pulled it off so well! It's absolutely stunning!

Question (and feel free not to answer if this is a spoiler or if you aren't sure), did Leo age in the Prison Dimension? Cause obviously the five years was FIVE YEARS, he didn't just time skip or anything, and he's definitely five years older mentally (for better or for worse, poor guy) but if the Prison Dimension essentially 'stops' bodily functions like hunger, thirst, exhaustion and.. dying, was his aging paused as well?

I'm low-key dying over the idea of Leo still being a kid physically. Like, the mental image of his brothers coming face-to-face with a visibly teenaged Leo who is more scar tissue than skin, it's just, ugghhgg. It's one thing to know 'oh he was a kid, he shouldn't have had to deal with this. He shouldn't have had to have been in that position, this is all so fucked up' but it's another thing entirely to see it, y'know?

Anyway, again feel free to ignore the question if it's spoiler territory or completely off the mark or if you don't have the spoons to answer. I mainly just wanted to say that I'm obsessed with your fic and it has me completely unhinged (pos). Was literally sobbing at 3AM while reading it. 10/10. Would recommend.

(also how the fuck do you write Leo so scary and threatening and yet also so adorable and charming and 'wet meow-meow stuck in the rain'. I'm frothing at the mouth wtf. The whiplash of being all 'oh no he's gonna kill- oh he's purring now, he's baby' is so fantastic holy shit)

THANK YOU THAT'S SO NICE WAAAAAAH 😭😭😭 i'm so glad people seem to enjoy it because i can always go a little TOO in depth at times and i hope it's never like, too boring or repetitious

and yes, Leo did age!! while the idea of Leo being a time capsule of his teenage self but now so warped is DELICIOUS... I love the idea he aged for several reasons. It was one (or maybe the only) way Leo knew time was passing for him-- which adds to the mental strain of knowing he was stuck there. Forever. And the emotional damage it would inflict on his family because it makes it just more transparent and painful how much time had passed. How long they left Leo there. As well as prove the point that time in the Prison Dimension passed at the same rate as it did on Earth.

Plus, I feel like there's another, dark, angsty edge to it that I couldn't resist. I feel like when the Prison Dimension was made, the primary goal was to trap the Krang for eternity. Whether intentional or not, the Mystic Warriors had practically made a place you could age. Where you can get hungry. Where you can get thirsty. Where you have to face all those painful needs of the body you just can't satisfy... But you just couldn't escape it. Ever.

That might make it a bit TOO dark to think about, but ultimately I just loved the idea of the brothers seeing Leo older like them and knowing that they had left him behind for so long. (toot-toot all aboard the angst train)

but omg i'm so glad you like it 😭 thank you for the ask it was super sweet 🩵

also

My Brother in Christ Pizza Supreme I wish i knew

[astralprisms]

tell me abt xa’rok !!

AHHHH you're so sweet!!

Some primers:

Xa'rok's responses to the githmap

Xa'rok and the Emperor (with bonus backstory overview and future musings)

Ramblings about illithid!Xa'rok and their tumultuous future

misc headcanons, wilderness survival training

Relevant character tags: tav: xa'rok, tav: skaro

THAT SAID, meet Xa'rok (they/them) a (former) githyanki bard/ranger, who also answers to the title of the Astral Envoy.

They were born in a creche deep in the icy mountains way up north near the Spine of the World. Their creche was isolated from other githyanki on the material plane, and their remote seclusion gave rise to an interesting selection of Vlaakith's 'faithful'. At Creche Zythir, curiosity was encouraged, and open-mindedness praised. Their sa'varsh favored keen minds and a thirst for knowledge in addition to power. To inquire was always rewarded. But only, as Xa'rok would learn, up to a point.

Xa'rok's own curiosity was sharpened like any other tool in a gith's arsenal, and like their kin's, put to good use. When the kith'rakis returned triumphant from raids they would dump their spoils in the middle of the main hall and let the yanks fight over the prizes, which they could only keep on loan in return for learning everything they could about what prize they claimed, later to be divulged at length and recorded. These prizes were hardwon and viciously fought for. Through several of these bloody claiming lessons, Xa'rok began to learn about their peoples' greatest enemy, the ghaik.

But what started as the thrill of praise in the claiming room soon turned to genuine curiosity for the history, the culture, and the creatures behind it. Whatever their people thought of their old masters, the illithids were prolific in their own right and their skills could be useful if given the right direction. A circular point of fascination for young Xa'rok was the intersection between their two peoples, a history paved in servitude and blood but which ultimately led to the current state of their race, psionics and all. If the gith of the now were a byproduct of illithid tampering-- what could the gith and illithids achieve if they were to work together to further one goal? What if there could be trade between them, a way to share knowledge and skills for the betterment of both species, to compromise instead of kill on sight?

Their interest narrowed and their appetite for any scrap of knowledge to these ends grew. It was easy, at first, to pass off their fascination as a war general's dedication to the enemies' habits and movements, so as to better best them one day in combat. They had to know the shape and size and interior schematics of the Nautiloids-- to better navigate their corridors should they ever find themselves aboard one, of course. To know what they could of an illthid's biology-- to better find their weak spots, not because they had so many questions about the similarities between their form and that of the ghaiks, on whether the similarities ended superficially, or if their psionic power came from the same place; if the divergence of their ability to reproduce was a byproduct of shaping the earlier forms of their kin to better fit the illithid image; if they were for all intents and purposes the forerunners of a new illithid race, a project that was terminated prematurely with the gith liberation.

Their questions and curiosity grew until they were too pointed to be explained away. They began to get ideas, ideas their superiors didn't like--and worse, ideas they spoke about to others. They were an effective speaker, someone who was easy to listen to and easier still to agree with, as they made their points clearly and with passion, backed up with facts. And the gith of their creche valued knowledge above all but their silver swords. Their fascination was tolerated as a quirk when it was sought in defense of their people, but this new line of thinking was dangerously close to collusion. There was nothing to be gained from working with the illithids but another future of servitude under cruel masters and this time there was no Gith to save them.

Xa'rok lore (abridged version)

In the end, they were exiled. They had barely hit their 20th year before being given the ultimatum. They were portaled to the middle of the tundra and left with nothing but the clothes on their back and what little they carried, to starve or freeze. Their choice of exile was a mercy from a soft-hearted mentor, for they had been trained in such scenarios many times as a yank, and death was not a guarantee. Left to the mercy of the elements instead of run through with a superiors' sword, they actually had a fighting chance.

They survived the trial, though they were told by the departing gish that should they make it back alive they would no longer be welcomed in by the creche and there were standing orders to annihilate them should they return within the bounds of their former home. Their name was stricken from the rosters of the faithful, and they were branded h'shar'lak.

It was a relief to be cut free.

For a little over ten years they traveled the Sword Coast once they made it safely out of the Spine and followed their whims and passions without the threat of their superiors breathing down their neck.

(above links do a better brief job of explaining the lore from here on out, but they contact the Society of Brilliance once they learn about it and plan to meet up with a renegade illithid in their midst who is most willing to speak to them -- they get snatched by the Nautiloid before making contact, and thus the plot of BG3 unfolds.)

As I've finished their game since writing the various above threads, they do turn full illithid, but while partial illithidom suited them admirably and they took to it with aplomb, the actual transformation and re-learning themself as a new creature as a full illithid is a painful and arduous process that far exceeds the instantaneous transformation in-game. Thanks to the influence of the Astral tadpole, which unlike the others, was not part of the Absolute's brood, and which took root far more strongly than the first or third, they retained most of their former self -- to the detriment of the illithid they were becoming. Eventually they find their feet again, and travel the Astral sea and beyond--to Limbo, to the Underdark, to the myriad dark places where the likeminded share their larger goal of collaboration--and do the thankless, impossible work of trying to unite historic enemies twice over (the illithids, the githyanki, the githzerai) under one banner for the betterment of all. They establish a sister society to the society of brilliance in the astral plane and operate largely from there -- though they pop back into the material plane every few months to visit the Emperor in Baldur's Gate and renew ties with their allies and friends in cities across Faerûn.

Ironically, I wasn't aware there was an ending in which Lae'zel essentially does the same thing only without the illithid component. I somehow didn't think the githzerai would come up again at all, and Ambassador seems to be a popular choice of post-game occupation for most gith who aren't still singularly devoted to Vlaakith, but this has been Xa'rok's story since their inception in my brain and so it will remain. They were built upon two main character influences: Genly Ai of Ursula K. Le Guin's The Left Hand of Darkness, who is a human envoy on a frozen planet caught in the middle of a civil war while trying to broker political and economic ties to a larger federation that will share resources and knowledge with all parties for the betterment of all involved; and Newt Geiszler from Pacific Rim, whose fascination with the kaiju ultimately ends with him mind-melding with one. Really internalizing your passions, here. They were built to be a solo Emperor romancer, so the illithid-sympathies were a given, everything else spun out of these three concepts.

Skaro, their guardian, is a githzerai with deeper ties to the lore, but I've also turned him into a character in his own right divorced from the Emperor's reimagining of him as the guardian. I'm still working on what the AU of their life is like, where they meet as traveling companions once tadpoled and both remain gith in the end.

There is also an offshoot of Xa'rok's ending in game where they choose to give the Emperor the stones and don't turn illithid themself, and thus they part ways at the dock once the fight is over, but remain close contacts and allies.

Sometime after all is said and done, down the line, Xa'rok finds and raises a displacer beast cub who they name D'jaxia. She accompanies them on their diplomatic missions in the astral sea. In their canon ending, where they turn illithid and remain with the Emperor, the two are often apart, as the Emperor is content to remain in Baldur's Gate rebuilding his influence within the knights of the shield and Xa'rok is busy with their ambassador work elsewhere. But they return to drag the Emperor out of his work and take a break on occasion.

[xasha777]

In a realm where the boundaries between the animal kingdom and humanity were blurred, there existed a curious train known as the Evapotranspiration Express. It was said to be a living entity, traversing the desolate plains where rain seldom kissed the earth, and the concept of Potential Evapotranspiration (PET) reigned supreme. PET, the measure of the ability of the atmosphere to remove water through evapotranspiration processes, was not just a meteorological term here but the lifeblood of the train itself.

Every year, the Express would appear, always shrouded in a mist that seemed to drink the moisture from everything it touched. Those who dared to board the train were never the same, if they returned at all. The train’s enigmatic conductor was a woman of otherworldly beauty, donned in a resplendent red dress adorned with patterns that seemed to move and writhe like living shadows. Her head was not that of a human but of a graceful giraffe, with eyes that reflected an abyssal knowledge and a calm that unsettled the bravest of souls.

The story goes that she was once a scientist obsessed with unlocking the secrets of PET, wanting to manipulate the very weather. Her experiments, however, had dire consequences, fusing her essence with the land's thirst for moisture and her own longing for understanding. Thus, she became the embodiment of the train's mission.

The Evapotranspiration Express would choose its passengers, not the other way around. It was said to be drawn to those with a burning desire, a thirst for something beyond their reach, just as the land yearned for rain. Once aboard, the passengers would find themselves amongst a herd of creatures with bovine bodies and faces that reflected their innermost selves. These creatures were the lost souls who had ridden the train before, transformed by their unquenchable desires and trapped in an eternal journey through a parched world where the line between yearning and suffering was as thin as the moisture in the air.

One fateful evening, a young environmentalist, haunted by dreams of a world dying of thirst, found herself standing before the gleaming red carriages. Her heart raced with a mix of dread and excitement as the giraffe-headed conductor extended a slender, human hand, inviting her aboard.

As the train chugged across the barren landscapes, the young woman witnessed scenes of eerie beauty: skies that bled colors of impossible hues, storms that raged silently in the distance, and fields of crops that twisted and contorted in grotesque mimicry of life. She realized that the train was not merely transporting her across land but through the very essence of Potential Evapotranspiration, showing her what happened when the balance was disrupted.

Days turned into nights, and nights into an unending twilight. The young environmentalist's thirst for knowledge became literal, as she found herself growing more and more parched, no matter how much water she drank. She understood then that the train fed on her desire, just as it did with all its passengers.

In a desperate attempt to save herself and the souls aboard, she confronted the conductor. Words poured from her like the rains she so dearly missed, pleading, reasoning, demanding. The conductor listened, her gaze deep and unfathomable.

In the end, it was the young woman’s genuine willingness to sacrifice her desire for the greater good that moved the giraffe-headed enigma. As a scientist once herself, the conductor was swayed by the environmentalist’s resolve and pure intent.

With a solemn nod, she granted the young woman a boon. The train would release the souls, allowing them to rain down upon the world as life-giving moisture, their desires finally quenched in the most literal sense. And so, the Evapotranspiration Express dissolved into a deluge that swept across the land, and where each drop fell, life sprang anew.

The environmentalist returned to a world refreshed, bearing the tale of the train and its conductor. She devoted her life to maintaining the balance of nature, respecting the fine line between desire and destruction, knowing somewhere the conductor watched, a silent guardian ensuring that the thirst for knowledge and the need for survival remained in harmony.

[lokisgoodgirl]

Love-Note #9: To @coldnique 💌

@coldnique is one of those few people who fulfills the role of both Writer and Reader on Tumblr with equal exuberance.

As a reader she is every writer's dream. She pays such careful attention to details, picks up between the lines, processes everything that the writer wants to say, and finally communicates all this with such unreserved unappreciation that I'm often left crying.

As a writer she's funny, sweet and also super 🔥🔥! And as an SAS member she's enthusiastic and constantly aboard every thirst train, tagging everyone and going completely crazy.

Basically, @coldnique KNOWS how to work this little fandom. She plays every role with heartfelt honesty and earnestly and I get nothing but good vibes from her.

I know she's not around much these days. I miss her and I hope she gets back soon 🩵🫶

This is such a cute Love Note, I want to double down on absolutely everything you've said. And thank you so much @lovelysizzlingbluebird for sending it! 💐♥️

@coldnique is someone who's interactions never fail to make me smile when they pop up in notifications or on my dash. Her presence is a gift ✨❤️ You are loved and appreciated boo.

[charnelhouse]

🗣️all aboard the soap train 🗣️

glad I sent the kilt pic ☝️☝️

BUT I WAS LURKING ON NEIL'S INSTAGRAM SOME MORE AND SAW THIS AND AUDIBLY GASPED. POSTING THIRST TRAPS FOR WHAT??? like no joke it has me giggling

he knows what he’s doing

[mnavynms]

Setting Sail: A Teen's Primer on Merchant Navy Training

So, you've got a thirst for adventure and a love for the sea? Well, buckle up your life vest and hoist the sails because we're about to embark on a journey through the choppy waters of Merchant Navy Training. Whether you're dreaming of navigating massive ships or fixing engines deep below deck, this beginner's guide will help you plot your course.

What Exactly Is the Merchant Navy? 

Think of it as the unsung heroes of the high seas. These are the folks who ensure that goods, commodities, and even people reach their destinations safely across the globe. It's not just about steering ships, though. There's a whole world of opportunities out there, from engineering to logistics, all tied to the maritime industry.

Training

If you're in India, you're in luck! We've got some top-notch Merchant Navy institutes right here. Picture this: you're walking the halls of a Merchant Navy Institute in India, surrounded by eager minds just like yours, all hungry for knowledge of the sea. These institutes offer courses ranging from Diploma in Nautical Science to Graduate Marine Engineering, equipping you with the skills you need to conquer the waves.

How Do You Choose?

But how do you choose the right institute for you? It's like picking the perfect wave to ride. You'll want to consider factors like accreditation, faculty expertise, and facilities. Do your research, read reviews, and maybe even visit the campus if you can. After all, this is where you'll be spending a good chunk of your time.

Once you've found your sea legs and enrolled in a Merchant Navy course, it's time to set sail on your training journey. Get ready for a mix of classroom learning and hands-on experience. You'll study subjects like navigation, marine engineering, and maritime law, all while honing your practical skills aboard training vessels.

But it's not all smooth sailing. There will be challenges along the way, from mastering complex maneuvers to battling seasickness. Stay focused, stay determined, and remember why you set sail in the first place.

How Do You Apply for Merchant Navy Training?

Now, let's talk logistics. How do you actually apply for Merchant Navy training? It's as easy as tying a knot once you know the ropes. Most institutes have online application forms that you can fill out. Just be sure to double-check all the requirements and deadlines.

As you progress through your training, keep an eye on the horizon. The maritime industry is constantly evolving, with new technologies and practices emerging all the time. Stay curious, stay adaptable, and never stop learning.

And finally, don't forget to network. The maritime community is a tight-knit one, and you never know when a connection might come in handy. Attend industry events, join online forums, and reach out to professionals in the field. You never know where your next opportunity might arise.

Whether you're dreaming of commanding your own ship or keeping the engines running smoothly, the sea is yours to conquer. Set your course, follow your compass, and may the wind always be at your back.

[rajukumar8926]

The Best Beautician Courses in Mumbai for Bridal Makeup and Hairstyles

Do you want to learn about making various hairstyles and make-up, If Yes, then the beautician course might be simply what you are looking for.  

A beautician is a dynamic career alternative today in fashion. It is thriving very fast and delivers young people much better career opportunities. Whether you work in a professional salon, work from home, be a mobile psychoanalyst, or travel the world aboard a voyage ship, being a beautician can be a hugely rewarding career. It is essential to prefer a beautician course that is credited and appreciated. 

About Beautician Course 

Makeup is an art and beauty is spirits combined and overseen by the spirited artist this is the purpose of most beauty courses. 

There are varied best beautician course in Mumbai given by beauty schools and academies in Mumbai and you can enroll in them for a cosmetology course. The academic emphasis in the realm of makeup can assist you in expanding a career as a makeup professional in films, spas, television sets, etc. 

The Best Beautician Courses in Mumbai for Bridal Makeup and Hairstyles 

Beauty parlour courses are an incredible way to learn about the beauty industry and get hands-on experience. The course will teach you about all facets of the industry, from hair styling, makeup, and nail art, to skincare and skin treatments. With this growing market, many people are looking for a career in the beauty industry. In this modern era, beauty professionals and beauticians are gaining importance. 

Beautician Courses are delivered by colleges and varied fashion institutes 

The Montessori course in Mumbai courses is taken by desiring students who wish to provide a new look to their clients. Beautician courses are available in both online and offline layouts as certificates, diplomas, and degrees. Cosmetology, beauty care, tailoring course in Mumbai, hairstyling, airbrushing, stage makeup, and other fields are among the vastly widespread specializations in beautician courses. In this course, learners learn distinct facets of makeup, and they get to learn hairstyling, skincare solutions, excellent makeup techniques, coating skin blemishes, etc. 

Icon Training Institute is one of the well-known fashion designing institutes in Mumbai. The institute was started up with the rationale to commence a beautician course for those who have that spark & thirst for coming to be a victorious beautician, Makeup artist, or hair stylist, or begin their salon or parlor. The courses delivered in this institute include a variety of hair, skin, makeup, beauty, bridal grooming, salon management, spa & professional machinery treatments. This beauty course syllabus contains all those topics which are required to commence your salon or parlor or to work in a reputed chain of salons. 

At our academy, we deliver the best parlour courses in the industry. We Provide world-class training programs to become aspiring Beauticians, Makeup artists, Hair Stylists and skin care specialists. 

Facilities 

They provide highly equipped teaching staff. 

The institute delivers Printed Theory notes that will be provided in English, Hindi, and Marathi & Gujarati. 

They provide slighter batch sizes for individual attention. 

It furthermore carries unique batches for students to solve their doubts. 

Students have the flexibility to heed the class at their convenience. 

It also delivers advanced Beauty Parlor Courses which provide learners with a detailed awareness of skin, hair, etc. at a profound level. 

[oceanbreathessaltyx]

There was an attempt at a fight, but the boarding crew’s immediate cutting down of three deckhands swiftly quelled the resistance. From there all Charles had to do was stuff a matchstick under each of the captain’s eyelids. He’d lit them and presented the man with a simple choice: let them burn, or state where the goods were stored.

He’d chosen the latter.

Now that captain is knelt on the deck with the rest of the crew of the ill-fated merchant ship, restrained and guns trained on them. Charles circles them. The ship is silent save for the wind and the sounds of his men dragging loot across the gangway to the Queen Anne.

His attention lies with the opposite side of the vessel where the smaller, nimbler Revenge is tied. Blackbeard’s figure cuts a path across the gangway and Charles bristles. Charles lead the tracking and taking of the prize, but here’s the captain, his banner flying above the Revenge commanding the moment.

It isn’t a slight, but Charles feels slighted. He shouldn’t care. It doesn’t matter. With Blackbeard’s whims as of late, these men won’t be recounting the tale.

He strides to meet Blackbeard when he steps aboard. “Silk and fur traders,” he says by way of reporting the cargo. When Blackbeard looks at him Charles’ discontent is swept away by a nameless thirst he swallows down with the clench of his jaw. “I’ve a team sweeping the hold for supplies to refit.” All the eyes are on Blackbeard. Of course they are. 

Charles nods in the direction of the prisoners. “What're we to do with this lot?”

@unfinishedbusincss

[irctcmaharajas]

The Ultimate Experience of The Finest Luxury train

By providing passengers with an immersive excursion into India's historic destinations while absorbing the region's rich cultural heritage, The Maharajas' Express has transformed the luxury travel experience and will leave travelers with priceless memories.

The train, introduced in 2010, has garnered praise by winning the hearts of its passengers and astounded travel reviewers and journalists worldwide. The most notable of these is the World Travel Awards' "World's Leading Luxury Train" Award, which it has received seven years in a row.

Stated the most opulent way for any traveller to explore the diversity of India quickly is aboard the Maharajas' Express, the finest luxury train.

Even for a seasoned traveller, it might take a lot of work to grasp India's diversity fully. As a result, the train's itineraries are created to bring ancient and modern India to life by fusing a wide range of heritage with the beauty of the nation's beauties and wonders. The finest luxury train journey satisfies every traveller's thirst, taking them to hidden beauties like Balasinor and Orchha and popular tourist destinations like Jaipur, Jodhpur, and Agra.

Palace on Wheels Tours Facilities

Because each cabin was modelled after a well-known gemstone owned by the Maharajas and was built following that particular pattern, each one has its ambience.

Aboard the Rang Mahal and Mayur Mahal restaurant carriages, and you will enjoy a fine dining experience. The Rajah Club Lounge and Safari Bar, essentially the centre of the luxury train, is a place to socialize or chill. The main appeals include beverages, refreshments, board games, and cultural programmes with comfortable seating

Maharajas’ Express Train Cabins

The Maharajas’ Express has 14 guest cabins and four different cabin types, each with distinctive dimensions. The cabins were intricately designed in the style of the legendary Maharajas' jewels and given those names.

Key Features:

Free WiFi

Control of air temperature

Bathroom with a sink and a shower stall with hot and cold running water.

An attentive butler service

A portable writing desk

A telephone facility, an LCD screen, and live television

Heritage Train Booking

The Maharajas' Express train package fuses the allure of culture with the magnificence of luxury. Booking the train includes meals, soft drinks, house-pour brands of wines, beers, and spirits, as well as accommodation in double or twin-bedded cabins with en suite bathrooms.

The Maharajas' Express tariff covers every necessity of their guests for reservations made by Indian Maharajas. The butler service, paramedic services, and guided off-tour excursions, as shown in the itineraries, are also included in this finest luxury train price, along with all entrance fees, camera fees for all cameras, transportation, benefits of a guide.

During your journey, you will feel like royalty thanks to this finest luxury train's exceptional amenities and services.

To make a reservation for your package, click the link below.

Source: Finest Luxury Trains

[webangchan]

✧✦ use me ✦✧ bang chan x fem!reader 1k words kinks & warnings: dry humping, chan comes in his pants, cum eating, overstimulation, deep throating, face fucking, dirty talk, fingering (f receiving)

“Shit, baby.”

You giggle right in Chan’s face, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth as you continue to roll your hips, making sure to do it just right for the both of you to get some delicious friction.  It must be somewhat painful for Chan’s cock to be pressed against his zipper but he hasn’t complained once.

“If you keep going like this…” Chan trails off with a moan when you fist the dark hair at his nape and pull his head back a bit, “I’m going to come in my pants.”

Your face lights up with glee and the usually confident Chan is wary of the devilish look in your eyes.

“Come, then.”

Chan grunts when you grind down harder, his fingers digging harshly into your jean clad thighs.  You can tell by the slight downturn of his lips that he doesn’t love the idea but now that he’s mentioned it, it’s completely taken over your thoughts.

“I want you to make a mess,” you say, your movements faltering for a few seconds when Chan starts sucking a hickey at the base of your throat.  “And then I want to clean it up with my tongue.”

He hisses around the flesh in his mouth and seems to throw any previous feelings of trepidation out the window.  His hands glide up your thighs and stop at your hips, his grip near bruising as you work to make him fall apart.

“I’m gonna come,” he warns in a breathless tone, leaning back so he can look at you with half lidded eyes.  The smile you give him is decidedly wicked and it doesn’t take much longer for your boyfriend to lose himself, his hips stuttering and chest heaving as he paints the inside of his underwear with his release.

While Chan is attempting to catch his breath, you scramble out of his lap and undo the button and zipper on his jeans with alarming speed.  It takes some wordless prompting from you and a few yanks to get his soiled briefs and pants pooled around his ankles.  With your hands grasping his knees for leverage, you waste no time in leaning down to lave the head of his softening cock with your tongue.  Chan hisses through his teeth and one of his hands flies to your hair to pull you away from his sensitive flesh, but the soft kitten licks you’re worshipping him with have hot arousal twining seamlessly with the twitches of pain.

Once you’ve finished licking him clean, you wrap your lips around the head of his cock and suck lightly, testing the waters to see if he’s okay to continue.  Chan uses the hold he has on your hair to push you down tortuously slow until your lips are meeting the base of his cock.  With his half hard length nestled in your throat, you hum around him and smile internally when the moan he lets out sounds like it was ripped straight from his chest.

“Gonna make me come again?” Chan asks breathlessly.  

You hum once more and Chan’s grip on your hair is getting tight but you love the pain.  Your cunt is aching but you make no move to touch yourself, knowing without a doubt that Chan will take care of you once you’re done playing with him.  You go slack and let Chan control the pace, your nails digging into his skin every time he nudges the back of your throat.  Being used as nothing but a toy for him to get off makes the fire coursing through you burn even brighter.

Chan readjusts his grip on your hair and holds your head steady so he can lift his hips off of the couch and fuck up into your mouth.  Spit gathers in the corners of your lips and drips down your chin, messy in a way that you know Chan loves.  His thrusts are slow but deep and you’ve never been more glad that your gag reflex isn’t very sensitive.

“I’m close,” Chan gasps.  You glance up at him through your lashes and if you could come untouched, you would have as soon as you made eye contact with him.  His gaze is darkened with lust but there’s an undercurrent of pure affection that makes you weak.  He loves you fiercely, endlessly, and you hear his whispered ‘love you’ through the blood pounding in your ears loud and clear.

Chan drops his butt back onto the couch and pushes you down on his cock until he’s sitting snug in your throat.  You swallow around him and he comes almost immediately, his thighs twitching under your palms while he moans loud and long.  Some of his cum doesn’t make it down your throat and pools in your mouth so you keep swallowing until every last drop is gone.  When he’s finally spent, Chan loosens his grip on your hair and pets the back of your head while you pull yourself off of his cock.

“That’s my girl,” Chan sighs happily.  He brings his other hand up to your face and places his pointer finger under your chin, using soft pressure to tilt your head up.  Chan smiles, close lipped and sweet, one of his dimples popping out on his cheek.  You mirror his expression sans the dimple, and Chan leans down to kiss you.  He pecks your lips multiple times, each one lasting longer than the previous.

“You’re so good to me,” he murmurs against your mouth.  He breaks away from you only so he can haul you up from the floor and into his lap.  Chan’s pants and underwear are still bunched around his ankles but he doesn’t bother fixing himself up, more concentrated on you right now.  He pops open the button on your jeans and pulls down the zipper before stuffing his hand into the front of your panties.

“So wet for me,” he states while cupping your soaked folds.  He parts your lips and sinks two fingers into your pussy and you clench around them immediately, a moan bubbling up your throat when he caresses your throbbing clit with the pad of his thumb.  “I bet it hurts, huh?  But you don’t have to worry, baby.  I’ll take care of you.”

[boop-le-snoot]

what if...

the avengers met the multiversal trespassers & you were the assistant. crack fic. part 2. read part 1 here.

The initial briefing goes about as well as it can.

Clint is absolutely plastered from Dr. Banner's THC cookies and barely can string a sentence together much less offer any insight, the Peter trio abandons everybody in favour of pointing out the differences and similarities between themselves, Sam has to withstand Max's fanboying over him and The Falcon, Tony quietly converses with Dr. Octavius - or Doc Ock, as his Peter called him all the while Banner and Strange try to figure out a way to turn the Lizard back into a human man.

Steve and Bucky, while not giving you a direct reason for your headache, had done nothing but eat everything in sight since they got there. The good Captain doesn't even try to make sense of the situation, his jaw just keeps moving as he reads something on his tablet.

As usual, you get to do the dirty work. The newcomers' faces and other appendages have been plastered all over the social media; Twitter is blowing up, as usual when there is a superhero sighting, but it's not the argumentative 140-character posts you are worried about.

It's Tumblr. The inhabitants of the hellsite had gone absolutely mad over some grainy footage of Dr. Octavius and his four extra appendages: the fact that there's not enough pixels to even have a good look at his face didn't stop them. Within several hours of his initial appearance, fanart had appeared and some of it makes your cheeks heat as you hurry to lower the brightness of your screen.

"We should clear up the internet," Tony says offhandedly in your direction.

"Good luck with that," you scoff. "There's fanart already."

"Damn, they're quick," the engineer mutters, crossing his arms. "This lovely gentleman is from the year 2004 so he's got a lot to catch up on. I hoped we could start with Wikipedia or YouTube, you know," the warning in Tony's words is clear. Do not traumatise the old man.

Old Peter, however, had his own ideas. "Oh yeah, it's absolutely insane these days. I've seen some seriously questionable drawings of me."

Accompanied by baby spider's groan, Old Peter completely ignores Tony's rapidly widening eyes and subtle head movements begging him to shut up.

It seems like all Peters have a talking problem, because Middle Peter doesn't hesitate to add his own five cents: "Oh yeah, I was there for the great Tumblr ship wars. Almost didn't go patrolling one night because a few people were hell-bent on getting rescued by me just so they could accurately describe my... Abs."

"Interesting," Dr. Octavius remarks, a corner of his mouth tilting upwards in what you could only describe as pure mischief.

His face loses several decades of age thanks to that single gesture and you shudder, thinking of people's reaction when the internet Gremlins actually get a good at him in all his smouldering, tentacled glory. One crooked smirk and they're all going to be gone, lost in the desert of thirst for Doc Ock.

Of course, he notices you looking at him, his smirk growing into a toothy, teasing smile in an instant. "Don't worry, darling, I'll try my best to give you no trouble."

Tony's gaping like a fish, eyes darting between the two of you like he'd just witnessed a heinous crime right at the tip of his nose. You'd gotten immune to his antics ages ago, knowing that his flirting was nothing more than a conversational habit, but you had no doubt that Doc Ock's cheeky words are going to put Tony in an existential crisis in approximately twenty minutes.

Tony might have been a genius... Yet, his self-awareness was severely lacking.

You clear your throat, swiping away the tab with the drawings of agile, mechanical tentacles. "What's the plan, guys? I can't keep off the press for very long and the public relations department needs at least two hours to prepare a statement that will hold up to the masses."

Tony fiddles with the drawstrings of his hoodie. "We need to cure Dr. Connors and find two more of the stowaways."

You take note of the Lizard's government name, writing it down in your notes. "There's two more? Why aren't you out looking?"

Tony sighs and you feel dread slowly creep up your spine.

"One of them is man made of sand. Don't ask me, I've no clue how that works," the engineer raises his hands before you can even get a word in. "The other one is an incredibly intelligent, violent psychopath."

You carefully consider your options, weighing in the innate instinct to rip out your hair and scream against the logical solution to the current predicament. You're incredibly good at your job, so common sense wins. Nearly effortlessly.

"I'll get the PR guys," you sigh, before turning to the newcomers. "If you need anything - and I mean anything, clothes, a phone, food - just ask FRIDAY and she will relay it to me. I'll do my best to deliver quickly."

"Friday?" You hear Dr. Octavius ask, and Tony is immediately sidetracked, preoccupied with talking all about his cool AI, jealousy over his assistant long forgotten. To give credit where it due, Doc Ock himself looks like all his Christmases just came to be.

In about an hour, you finally get your hands on some food, after sending a small army of interns to get the multiversal trespassers their necessities. The PR department is already mid-way through cooking up a half decent cover-up and the crazy Lizard-man is not causing you any more grief, safely locked away in Bruce's hulk-out room. Your chest finally feels relaxed enough to fit in the appropriate amount of oxygen in it.

Suddenly, an explosion shakes the floor under you. You jump up, in alarm, your fried noodles flying all over your desk, and look at the city below, searching for the source of the small but strong earthquake.

"Ma'am, Sir kindly requests you not be alarmed. The explosion was due to an equipment malfunction." FRIDAY'S voice sounds almost apologetic.

"Is Dr. Octavius with him?" You rub your temple, knowing where this is going and refusing to accept it anyway.

"Yes, ma'am," FRIDAY's tone changes to near glee. "They just refurbished codes to Dr. Octavius' AI and now are attempting to make the actuators fully retractable. They have both agreed that their current state is unsatisfactory, considering the opportunities this universe provides."

Shaking off several soggy noodles off your shirt, you put a spring to your step as you huff and march towards Tony's private lab. "I'll show you two something unsatisfactory..."

[whats-her-quirk]

june bye not you triggering my miche simping all over again pls i thought i just recovered 😭✋🏾

Everyone should be a miche simp I am merely spreading the gospel of this man’s dick

[bakubabes-tatakae]

I have a MIGHTY NEED for Dabi thirst!!

Lets say you have handcuffed Dabi to the bed while he was napping for a nice...surprise. He's amused but a lil annoyed that you're not handcuffed to the bed ready to be ravished. He's willing to let you take the lead (because lord knows this is probably the only way you ever get to top him) and holy shit you've never seen him become such a needy desperate mess for you! And then...the handcuffs suddenly break and Dabi can FINALLY move. Oh shit. (Why did you get a cheap pair???) On a scale of 1 to 1000, just how fucked are you?

If this is the scenario then you are even farther off that scale of fucked. 😬 This man is gonna go from 0 to 10000000 real quick. I hope you’re prepare to not walk straight for a week because this man is going to completely destroy you. 👏🙌

You had him underneath you and begging for more without answering his pleas. The last thing he’s going to let you do is get away with their. 👌

He’s going to have you absolutely pleading him underneath him while he overstimulates the SHIT out of you. 🤤

All Aboard The Dabi Thirst Train 🥴🤤