#blossoms writing

[snowblossomreads]

Attention

Summary: In where [Y/n] is feeling a bit needy due to her husband paying his work more attention than her.

Pairing: Judge Turpin x FemReader

Tag(s)/Warning(s): Cockwarming, Penetrative Sex, Begging, Pet Names, some Dom/Sub vibes (it's Turpin of course)

Word Count: 4.1K

A/N: HAHAH Thought you've seen the last of me didn't you?? This plot showed up at my door step and beat me up thanks to @slytherinsight221 💖💖💖. Turpin seems like the type to enjoy some cockwarming when doing work so here we are. Please enjoy and feel free to scream at me how it made u feel : )

Enjoy!

MDNI!

The great Judge Turpin of London was a very busy man. From the many trials he had to preside over, to the equally as many death sentences he had to dole out.

A very busy man indeed.

And a very cold man at that as all seemed to want to avoid him lest they face his wrath and be sentenced to hang on the gallows just like the many poor souls before them.

Yet there was one who saw beyond this. One who got to see the occasional gentleness in those eyes that seemed to always be stormy. One who got to listen to the soft roll of thunder that was his voice as he whispered sweet nothings into her ear before they retired to bed.

The Lady [Y/n] Turpin.

The judge's young wife who at first had been as afraid of the man as so many others when the betrothal to him was offered. Though offered was not really the correct word as it made it sound like she had a choice in it.

No, it was more of a transaction, her hand in marriage and in return her family would be spared poverty and shame after it was found that [Y/n]'s father had been running a scheme and using the family's business as a cover-up to sell counterfeit goods to the members of London's high society.

A done deal the moment it was offered and she was married off to the man and whisked to his home merely weeks after the arrangement.

Frightened she had been of him at first, scared and nervous from all the terrible things she had heard whispered about him.

‘A cruel man that one. Who puts children to death for petty things like taking a piece of bread?’

‘Mhmm and did you hear about his ward?’

‘No, what about her?’

‘Heard she run off with some poor bloke from the docks. When the authorities found both of them and brought them back, he sent the poor lad to the gallows and the ward to live at some convent!’

Learning that he had sent his former ward’s lover to a penal camp and her to a convent just for running away had her stomach in knots.

And once they were legally wed, the fear in her seemed to grow as all her things were loaded up into a carriage that same day and brought to his- their home.

To say she was terrified was an understatement as she knew that as his wife, it was her duty to be subordinate to him. That night and every night from thereafter. But especially on the night of their marriage.

Yet when it was time to consummate the union she had been taken aback that he did not force himself on her. No the very opposite, instead a chaste kiss was placed on her hesitant lips, and in that deep rumbling voice of his he had stated that,

‘Not until you are ready shall I know all of you and you all of me. I am not ignorant of my reputation and I will not let them stain our marriage bed.’

That night they went to bed, with her still untouched yet her heart beating wildly as she lay awake. He would not touch her until she was ready. Something about what he said made her heart beat a little faster and not because she was frightened.

And he kept true to his word. Only chaste kisses on her forehead, her lips, or cheek, or the back of her hand whenever he felt like it.

It was not a wonder that it only took a matter of weeks before she submitted herself to him with the patience and gentleness he showed her. And dear lord she asked herself almost every day afterward why she had hesitated.

Even if he had been her first, she knew that no other man could measure up to the pleasure that he had brought her over and over. He made her make noises that she didn't think she could.

Touched her deeper than her fingers ever could when she was curious at night in her own bed when she was in her parent's home.

And his gravely baritone voice next to her ear with his groans and moans as he filled her both with his cock and seed made her wonder how she had lived without him for so long.

Night after night they would make love when he wasn't tired from the draining duties of his profession. Slow, fast, hard, soft, he took her many ways yet all of them were as pleasurable as the time before.

She had even confessed her love to him when they were in the throes of passion and she had never been so sore the day after. Pretty bruises littered her hips where he had held her tightly and her cunt ached from the pounding it had endured.

From that day on she allowed herself to be spoiled by him. To be loved by him and to love on him whenever they could and whenever he had time.

But again, time was what he had so little of these days due to the increase in cases the court was hearing. And along with that came the smidgen of neglect [Y/n] felt when all they seemed to have time to do was give each other morning kisses and good night kisses.

He wasn't the type of man to pass up pleasure now, but there hardly seemed to be time for it now with how quickly he would fall asleep the moment he laid his head down on his pillow.

How dare that man withhold the pleasure of their marriage bed from her though! It was an irrational thought and it wasn't at all his fault with how busy he was but she was needy and she needed him.

And that is how she found herself standing on the other side of the library which was also his office in their home with little more than a chemise that she had slept in. It was a Saturday morning and while he didn't need to go into court it seemed that he had brought his work home. 

Again.

But this time she would have none of it she thought as she knocked on the mahogany door. Once he saw her wearing almost nothing and wandering the house for all to see, she was sure he would teach her one of his 'famous' lessons.

"I thought I instructed that I be left alone?"

His harsh words filled the air as [Y/n] opened the door to find him sitting at his desk, papers scattered about the tabletop. Though when he looked up to see who it was, the harsh lines on his face relaxed when he realized it was her. Yet when his eyes raked over her form, she could see him become tense again as he eyed her with a sharp inhale.

"Ah, but I see it is my sweet little wife who has come to visit," he hummed, a twinkle coming alive in his eyes as [Y/n] approached his desk, going around the corner to stand by him.

"Indeed, and I hope you would make an exception for my interruption," she replied back to him before leaning down to press a kiss against his cheek.

One that was a bit prickly. Though she did love how it tickled against her face when they were near and she couldn't help but giggle at the feeling of the scratchiness.

"Always my dear, you are quite more interesting to look at than all these cases," he spoke while motioning his hand towards all the papers splayed about, "and it puts me at ease knowing you are safe and where you belong."

That had her raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, and where is it that I belong?" [Y/n] teased, a little simper playing on her face as she watched his expression morph into something devious.

There was a glint in his eyes as he looked up at her, his thick fingers wrapping around her wrist and pulling her closer to him. His other hand going to stroke her side causing a shiver to run up her spine as he scooted away from his desk just enough that [Y/n] wormed her way between those strong thighs of his. Thighs she quite enjoyed being able to sit on whenever she had the chance.

"Where else do you think you belong other than by my side," he purred, fingers brushing against her, causing her dress to hitch up a little.

"There are quite a few other places I think I belong, sir," she answered back, a coy look on her face as her body reacted positively to his touch as goosebumps danced across her skin. "Yet I fear that you have not had enough time recently to indulge in such activities."

This had him smirking as his hand left her wrist and joined the other in holding her waist, turning her around to face the desk before pulling her down to sit on his lap.

Even with the layer of clothing she wore she could still feel the excitement growing in his trousers and she couldn't help the moan that left her lips as she pushed herself back on him.

"Now if I did not know better, I would ask where my sweet innocent wife has gone," he said, gripping her waist a little harder to keep her from moving around as he felt himself grow more excited. "Yet it seems we aren't so innocent."

Of course she wasn't, not with him as her husband. She had lost her innocence to him both physically and in thinking long ago and she would gladly let him take it again but that was beside the point. 

The point was she needed him, and preferably in the next few moments or she feared she would explode with the desire that was rampaging around in her.

"Richard please," his name left her lips in a whimper as she twisted her body slightly just to see his face. A smirk on those thin lips of his that were so kissable. Damn, this man!

"I've missed you, you haven't touched me in weeks. Each night I go to bed dreaming of you my love. Thinking of how you feel on me, in me," she confessed, the urge to bury her face against his shoulders strong but not as strong as the thrumming in her stomach that yearned for him "Please I need you my love."

Her last sentence came out as a desperate plea as she leaned back against his chest.

"Hmm, well I do consider myself to be a fair man," Richard purred, leaning up and nipping at [Y/n]'s ear lobe as his hands trailed up to squeeze her breasts causing her to whine and shudder. ”A deal then. Shall we my love?“

"Mmm yes anything, anything Richard please," [Y/n] sighed as he pinched and squeezed her pebbled nipples through her gown sending a tingle down her spine and right through her core that was burning with need for him.

"There is some work yet to be done and I cannot delay it any longer so the deal my sweet, if you can sit still in my lap until I finish I'll be yours to do with for the rest of the day and tomorrow."

That was all? Surely that couldn't be all-

"I see the wheels working in your head little one and yes that is not all," he purred in her ears. He knew her too well. "Not only will you stay still on my lap, but as punishment for interrupting my work, you shall do it while keeping me warm."

"Warm? Richard I-," her question was interrupted by her squeaking as her husband pushed her forward just a bit making room for him to undo his trousers.  

The sound of buttons popping caused her to look back, hands gripping the desk to keep her steady as she watched him free his cock from its confines.

The thick organ strained against the cloth before it was freed to lay heavy on his stomach as he pushed the waist of his trousers down just past his hips.

Ah, warm him. So that's what he wanted.

"R-Richard my love, darling, you know what you do to me," she mewled out as she felt the bottom of her dress be lifted to expose her and her hips dragged back towards her husband's lap. "I do not think I will be able to sit still if you are inside me."

"Really," he drawled huskily as he gripped his cock and began to slide the head of it against her exposed slit that had already begun to wet itself at the mere thought of her husband. 

A little moan passed through her lips as her legs automatically widened for him causing the tip of him to slip just past her folds. "You would deny your husband the pleasure he so deserves because you simply cannot sit still? Is this what you are saying to me?"

"No!" She squeaked out head shaking left to right as he began to pull her down to take her seat upon his strained arousal. "No never my love I would never deny you I just-!"

"Good, then I believe we have our deal."

No sooner had he said that did he fully pull [Y/n] down on his waiting cock that slid into her with almost no resistance.

"Richa- oh my lord!"  She cried breathlessly as he breached passed her lips that sucked him in hungrily as she sunk completely down onto his lap.

An absolute cunt stretcher* he was and she was more than happy to have it stretching her open as she took him to the hilt moaning at how full she felt with him inside of her.

Beads of sweat formed on her forehead as her fingers grasped at his thighs. Her head fell back on his shoulder as she felt him wrap one arm around her waist. His thick fingers stroked her belly lovingly causing her body to shutter and her hungry opening to squeeze at the thickness that filled her completely.

"O-oh oh Richard, my love," [Y/n] panted out as her cunt rippled around his cock that held her open as he shifted in his seat making himself more comfortable while he reached to grab one of the papers that were haphazardly sitting on his desk.

"Mmm that's it my little love, stay just like this for me," he hummed, his baritone voice thundering in her veins as he rocked teasingly against her causing her to whimper and tense at the pleasure that licked at her insides. "Such a good little wife for me. So obedient," he purred as she trembled in his arms while her body ached and begged for more. Yet he held her still on his cock, whispering sweet and lewd things to her ever so often as he looked through some case findings she presumed.

"Mmm, so very warm, and tight just as one should be for their lord husband."

"Ah, ah no moving my little love, what did I tell you about that."

"Oh did you like me touching you right there my sweet? Your little bud has always been so sensitive when you have me settled inside you."

Oh god this man, her husband, he was so filthy. The words he spoke were absolutely lust-inducing as she sat as still as possible on his lap trying to control the spasms inside her each time he uttered those words into her ear.

She was sure his lap was drenched by now as her insides clenched around him. Rapid breaths of air left her lips as she tried to calm her racing heart as he shifted again to grab another piece of paper on his desk.

This torture, this delicious torture seemed to go on forever as he went about his work ignoring her need that was dripping out of her at some point.

Sometimes he went as far as leaning over her body to write something down on a piece of parchment and causing his cock to slide deeper in between her drenched folds. Leaving her moaning and whimpering as her body demanded that it be allowed more of him.

"Oh Richard please, please," she begged softly, tears filling her eyes at the burning in her stomach that protested at the pleasure that was being withheld from it.

Trying to turn her head to at least gaze at him hoping her wet eyes would convince him to give her more, she was only met with him grabbing the sides of her jaw and gently turning her face forward.

"Eyes front sweet one," he purred, in command of her as usual, though she could hear from the husk of his voice that all of this abstaining was also affecting him as he shifted once again in his seat causing him to brush against a sensitive spot in her core. "Almost done and then I can indulge you till your heart's content. Be a patient wife for me just a little longer."

She was trying to be patient, she was. But it was impossible when her sex was impaled on him and aching to milk him of his seed and to release her own desire onto him.  But she would be patient as he asked her to be. As it was her duty as his wife to obey him in all things as their vows had stated.

So she sat. Her thoughts ebbing and flowing trying to find something else to focus on other than him inside her.

She tried to take interest in the many books that were shelved in the library, but her mind quickly wandered to the vulgar and graphic content that many of them displayed. Pictures of men and women writhing against each other in the throes of pleasure. Stories of orgies and debauchery in the middle age. The fantasies of men and women alike in many of those books

All things and more were stored on the shelves, some she had even read herself at the behest of her husband. Some he had read to her as they indulged in the pleasures that the book instructed them on.

It only made her needier, made her body softer as she relaxed into her husband's hold. Her fingers played with the large hand on her belly as an inaudible sigh left the man behind her. His member twitching in interest and leaking as he felt her velvet inside begin to flutter at the thoughts in her mind.

"Thinking of something pleasant little one?" He groaned, feeling his body slowly losing its grip on the control he had as he placed the paper he had down.

He had long ago stopped focusing on the many piles of papers on his desk, too busy being enamored by her wet heat that suckled on him. In honesty, he couldn't help that he enjoyed how she submitted to his more sadistic nature and teasing tendencies when it came to her. The control she allowed him over her was something he craved and enjoyed as in life you were either doing the controlling or being controlled and he quite preferred the former.

"Mmm you Richard, always you my love. My darling husband, my protector, my everything." Her words came out as a dreamy slur as her brain became hazy from the prolonged waves of pleasure that had not yet been allowed to reach its peak.

"My what a good and patient little wife you've been for me," he whispered, moving his hips a little and causing her to keen softly at the simulation of her insides that fully reawakened in an instant. "Keeping me warm, and thinking of me the entire time. How sweet you are. So sweet that I believe you are owed a reward. Would you like that my love?"

"Yes please sir," she begged sweetly, turning her upper body and looking at his cloudy eyes with her own lust filled eyes, "please I've been good and still for you my darling please."

A gentle smirk grew on his thin lips as he leaned down and pressed them against her own, his hands going to dig their fingers into her side causing her to whine into the kiss at the electricity that shot up her spine.

"Indeed you have been very good," he hummed, pulling away from her face, "and I shall give you your reward."

No sooner had the words left his lips, [Y/n] found her hips being guided off of his cock only for him to pull her back down on his lap with such force that her entire body tensed and a loud shout was forced past her lips as his cock slammed deep inside her.

"Yes oh Richard my love yes!" She sobbed loudly as he guided her up and down his slick shaft. 

His prick was wet with both of their arousals as the wet sounds of their flesh smacking against each other echoed around the room without resistance.

"Such a wonderful little wife I have," Turpin groaned into her ear as he lifted his hips up to meet her as she slid down his cock causing him to hit that spot deep inside her over and over. "So good for me, so obedient for me."

Her body writhe in pleasure as her mouth went slack and her upper body fell forward grabbing onto the edge of the desk as she allowed herself to be opened and explored by her husband. A guttural growl rumbled through his chest at her display and his hips stuttered only for a second before he was getting out of his seat and pressing her against his desk, his body laying on top of her as he began to piston himself inside of her.

Wails and sobs left her lips and it was music to his ears as his cock pulsed and began to leak seed into her. The feeling of having his thick body laid upon her and rewarding her sent her into a tizzy as she pushed her hips back to meet his thrusts each time.

Having him cage her in made her feel safe, and loved. Cared for, desired and it sent a rush of warmth into her belly that she couldn't stop as she began to gush around him.

"Oh Ri-Richard!" She breathlessly squeaked out as her body began to spasm uncontrollably. 

The sloshing of her cunt increased in volume as he began to pound into her faster, feeling his own release approaching as her insides squeezed him over and over until,

"Darling," he hissed out, hips stuttering as cock began to spill inside of her. Hot pulses of his seed spurted out and drowned her cunt with his release.

The warm feeling of him emptying himself into her and burying himself deep was all [Y/n] needed as she herself felt her body go absolutely limp as she released the arousal that had been building up inside of her.

Her fingers gripped the desk and her legs shook as she spilled around her husband moaning an elongated and breathless,

"Sir~." As her upper body lay smushed against the desk with the weight of the man on top of her.

It was oddly comfortable, well to her it was having him and his spend inside her while he covered her body with those strong thick limbs of his. Yet it was taken away much too soon for her liking as her husband slipped out of her with a slick noise. A little moan left her as the thick shaft stimulated her sensitive folds on its way out.

A kiss was placed on her damp neck as she lay bent over, the sound of fabric being straightened before Richard was helping her upright herself.  She couldn't help the dazed smile that was on her lips as he turned her to him. His gray locks were messy and along with his disheveled clothes there would be no guessing what had just happened between the two if any of the housekeepers were to walk in.

Yet she didn't care about that as she wrapped her arms around his shoulder and pulled him down so that their lips could meet once more and she could taste the salt on them.

No, all she could care about was the satisfaction running through her veins as he indulged her in a deep kiss, their tongues lazily dancing with each other as his arms came around her waist to hold her close.

A/N: I wrote this in like a span of two days I think which might not be a lot of some but it is for me haha! And also about the lil '*' if anyone saw that haha. Apparently cunt stretcher was a word back in the day and i was like oh yeah Turpin would use that / i'm sure it would accurate to describe him like that so I did :)

Anyways I hope that was a good time for you all please do leave words of thirst if you enjoyed it haha!

Also tagging @clowns-in-the-night as a reminder haha!

[pricetagged]

butcher paper

Here's a young (maybe 19-early 20s) Simon struggling with his emotions, working as a butcher's apprentice, and fixating on the pretty student waitress at the café next door (':

Content: plus size f-presenting reader; allusions to domestic abuse (Simon's past); fat-shaming (not Simon); little bit of violence, unedited. (Link to Ao3)

He's not sure that it counts as desire. Interest. It crawls over him, makes him feel aggressive, makes him want to dig his teeth in and shake and snarl.

It's hunger.

And he knows hunger. Knows it like he knows the cigarette burns on the back of his hand. Knows it like he knows his old man's a waste of space and that he has to defend his mum and protect Tommy and- and-

He's the man of the house, only the house is rotten. Woodloused frames, crumbling bricks. Gutted. Empty shelves hidden behind broken doors. Chipped plaster, electricity cutting off. Squeaky steps that always clued them in when the old man was on a rager (not that it helped, creaking out a warning but giving no clue where to run. The percussion leading to a gallows' jig; the heavy step before the hit).

But the old man's gone now. And Simon is left trying to fill in the boots he doesn’t know how to wear. All growth spurt and gangly limbs and anger. So much anger at the old bastard. Tear-soaked anger at his mum sometimes (buried deep behind the shame that he feels when he thinks of her black and blue. Anger and shame, bitter roots that he chews at to soothe the clench of in his jaw and the grind of his teeth). And then he sees you through the window. Through the peeling CHRISTMAS SPECIAL sign highlighting ham joints and turkey and pigs in blankets.

You're so soft.

You look like you’ve lived a life well-fed and well-loved. Something round and sweet and helpless, like the puppies he and Tommy had seen dumped in the park while they snuck cigarettes and swigged from cheap supermarket cider.

And that brings him back to the hunger. He's an awkward creature, shuffling to the café where you work part-time. He's more feeling than man, all rage and appetite stuffed into a skin suit. You sense it too, nerves tugging at the tilt of your smile as you approach the scavenger that swept in to sit at the cheap plastic tables in this greasy spoon. He sits awkwardly, too, hunched over the table like his stomach is gnawing at him. Big hands snapping the disposable plastic coffee stirrers and shredding the napkins. That first day, he just stares at you. Sneers a little when you flutter over to take his order.

You slosh the tea a little when you serve it.

He sees the burn bloom, watches as you suck at the sting with plump cheeks and a rosy little mouth, and he just wants to dig in and scratch hard to see you do that again.

It becomes a habit, watching you. He finds out bits and pieces listening as he rends and chops and saws through muscle and bone, stinking of sweat and iron. You're here as a student. You're living in student digs (good, best that you avoid the up-and-downs and rough streets that would fit a student budget), and you're a real sweetheart. Old Sal who has been running the café for the past 30 years leans a heavy elbow on the display counter as he chats with the boss.

"She's lovely, taken to it like a fish to water," his raspy, smoke-charred voice is cheery as he waits for the bacon and sausages to be weighed and wrapped. "Only asked for Thursdays and Fridays off since she has afternoon classes then. Otherwise, I almost have to round her out of the shop, doing more afternoons and weekends than my own kid."

You're hardworking too, then. He wonders if it's because you're hungry too, needing something to do with your time, living on pot noodles and supermarket ready-meals like he'd heard some students do. It's strange how that thought sits uncomfortably, makes him want to hunch over you and bring you his scraps.

That week, he decides to talk to you. Only the words get caught, don't come out quite right as he stares at the way your jumper clings to the soft curves under your faded apron. When you turn around, bustling to other customers, he can't help but stare at the line of your skirt. It's real pretty, decent, sitting just above your knees but Christ, he wishes that it would roll up a little higher. That it would catch on the corner of a table or hitch up as you raise your arms and swish past with a tray full of fry-ups. He almost gets lucky as you bend over to mop up a spill just across the room. Your thighs widen as they press against the table, tights stretching thin and sheer and he just can't tear his eyes away-

(The hunger in his stomach turns hot and biting, makes his cheeks flush and his mouth dry-)

But it's ruined. Fly in the soup, hair in the dish, as you catch him and your eyebrows pinch together as you look away. There's something guarded, bitter, in your lovely eyes, and the dryness in his mouth turns wet and sour. You seem to take pains to avoid him, swapping out with Sal's son so that you can work the counter instead of the floor.

"'m Simon," he grunts as he goes to settle the bill. "Work at the butcher's across the street."

You clearly didn’t expect an introduction, shoulders relaxing and hesitant smile blooming as you give your name in return.

"Yeah, I know. Sal mentioned you a few times. He's tried to give me the rundown of practically everyone on the street, feels like."

"Y'should come in t'the shop," the invitation rushes out in a way that makes him feel clumsy. Perhaps that’s why he did it; to have you in his space, with his head and his footing right. Here, he feels every inch the artificial man. Pieced together, too big and too looming, with no help or guidance on how to talk to soft things and pretty girls.

You grimace a little, eyes focused on the till as you count out his change. "Not really on a butcher-shop budget right now."

"'S'alright. I can keep something aside for ya," he doesn't mention how it would come out of his wages. How it would come out of what he brought home to his mum and Tommy. It didn't matter, though, when he was used to going without.

"That's - that's really nice, actually," Your sweet face is glowing now, and he feels like he could bathe in the warmth of it. "Next time you come by lunch is on me."

He sees the way you tuck your chin and smile as he walks away, and that bottomless pit in his guts feels just a little more full.

(He doesn't quite catch the snickers of the boys at table three, whispering and nudging each other as you come to take their orders. This time.)

He stares more and more through the window of the shop, watching as you come and go. Watching the way you greet the regulars and skirt around the group of lads who like to linger in the evenings. There's something sharp, nasty, to the way they circle around the entrance. The way they cackle and hoot when the one with the eyebrow piercing smirks and whispers to his mates as they force you to brush past. They're a pack of hyenas, shrieking and smug as they toy with the poor little thing that's walked past their watering hole. He's seen this type before, practically grew up with them. His old man was probably one of them, perfecting his cruelty while young, cementing it as part of his nature.

It has Simon sharpening his knives while he grits his teeth. Has the boss tutting at him when he cuts too close to the bone.

He knows there's something violent in him. The old man tried to bring it out then snuff it out, getting scared when the knife that he sharpened was able to cut him in return. He's no stranger to bloodshed. No stranger to the calloused, deprivation-dimmed apathy that breeds like algae in the environment where he was forged. Dripping, slimy, suffocating.

Doesn't mean he likes it, though.

(He'd gone back for those puppies, you know. Felt wrong leaving them. Felt like a rebellion against his old man's sick life lessons as he dumped the box outside the doors of a local veterinary clinic).

So he keeps his eyes peeled, stakes out the café like he owns it. Stares down anyone who looks at you wrong until they look away, muttering under their breath. 'Fucking freaky dead-eyed git.' It seems to work.

And you seem to like it, sparing more smiles for him. Bringing him bigger portions than normal and topping up his cup before he even needs to ask.

"I know you've been working since seven, Simon. Gotta keep your strength up," You seem bashful as you slide the plate across, and he just eats it up.

You've been looking at him, thinking about him. It's not something he's familiar with, having someone care for him. His mum loves him, of course. Tommy too. But it’s not the same, not when it's been his job to take care of them. His job to step up to the mantle and into the shoes that his father should've filled. Watching the sway of your wide hips as he tucks into the steak and kidney pie with gusto, he feels satisfied. The hunger is there, always is, but it's not gouging at him under the skin. It's satiated, pleased. The kind of comfort that leaves his eyes heavy and his belly warm.

It's a routine you fall into, and everything is rosy-

Until it's not.

He's closing up shop, wiping down the counters and getting ready to haul down the shutters when he sees them. Those stupid pricks, travelling in their pack and signaling that their quarry is in sight. Look, there it is alone and limping and- You're in a rush, leaving later than usual and shrugging your coat on carelessly as you shout your goodbyes to Sal. You're in that skirt again, the one that makes his lower belly tighten and mouth feel dry.

"Oi, look! Dirty scrubber has her fat arse hanging out!"

It sets them off, chittering and howling as you freeze wide-eyed and lip-quivering.

"Gonna be sick, mate. Don't want to see your knickers, love. Didn't even know they came in that size."

He doesn't even see red. Doesn't see anything but your pretty, round face crumpling as you try to tug your skirt out from where it got caught under your coat.

The ringing of the bell by the door muffles the sound of the first punch. His fist crunches into that prick's nose, and he wants nothing more than to keep going until his face is little more than meat and pulp and blood. He can taste it, smells the blood in the air like a shark.

But you're watching.

"Bit bored with y'taking the piss out of her," he snarls it as he hauls the man by his jacket, shoving him hard against the wall until his head thwacks against the bricks. Easy as hauling a side of beef. "Why don't ya try me next?"

The man seems dazed, head spinning and nose dripping. His mates, too, look floored. Ready to scatter and abandon their leader to the bigger beast. Only the promise of more blood keeps them watching, feeds their nasty appetites and he's just itching to let them see. Watch what happens; it's coming for you next.

"Speechless now, eh? Had so much to say earlier," he's spitting the words out, teeth snapping as he leans down so close to the man's face that he can see how his pupils constrict. "Apologise."

And he's smarter than he would give him credit for. Smart enough to whimper out his 'sorry, sorry, sorry' as he drops to the filthy, damp pavement when Simon swivels towards the others. Something about the set of his shoulders, the way his hands and apron are splattered with the gore of man and animal, has them scattering.

"That goes for the rest of ya! Don't ever want t'see your ugly fucking mugs around here again," he spits on the ground, itches at his jaw with his wrist as he watches them run.

He can't hear them anymore. Can't hear anything over the sound of his heavy panting and pounding heartbeat.

It's cold out. He's only realising it now, standing in the December chill with just an apron over his jeans and t-shirt. It has him shaking, flexing his hand as his knuckles start to sting and swell. He welcomes it, welcomes the familiar bite as he pushes down the savage, ragged anger rippling through his chest.

"Simon-"

"Y'alright?" he cuts you off, faces you head-on.

And all the rage saps out. You're not cowering away. There's no disgust on your face. No tears or embarrassment either, no. You've got a crumpled packet of wet wipes in your hand, reaching out for him. Concerned.

"Figure you'd want to get that prick's blood off you soon as possible," you give him a sad little half-smile. "Didn't have to do all that for me, Simon."

"Yeah, didn't have to." He concedes as he steps closer to you. Crowds into your space until you're toe-to-toe and he can feel your warmth. He brushes his fingers against yours, lets them linger on your soft skin as he reaches for the wipes. "I wanted to."

-----------------------

Let's all pretend that this was okay and ignore the fact that I still haven't posted the wips that I keep going on about 🫠💖

Just a little self-indulgent drabble idea that I had today, thinking back to watching 'My Mad Fat Diary' as a teenager, feeling nostalgic ~ (The Finn-defending-Rae scene had 18yo me in a chokehold lol).

[thelotusrabbit]

DpxDc #25

Generally unpleasant day.

Flores Rosae Sanguinei (Blood Blossoms) was an extinct species erased in the 1600s, over-exploited by early ghost and witch hunters to eliminate supernatural entities.

Its origin is unknown to humans, but in the realms...

A God had fallen.

Unheard and unseen.

The name forgotten,

The worship lost.

Every drop of their blood bore a seed of the horrid plant, causing much pain to everything that didn't follow the law of the universe.

Even in his human form, Danny was looking at the plant with undelined fear. In his ghostly form, the fumes of it drowned his lungs in a mixture of smells like paint thinner, Malört, and cigarette smoke.

The best way to describe the sensation was like breathing in a bottle of vodka until it fills your lungs and setting it on fire by sticking matches up your nose.

Danny suppressed a gag.

Yeah. Painful and unpleasant.

He was trying not to look at the plastic bag he was carrying, the weight of the blossoms feeling like carrying a dead cat you accidentally ran over: grim, uncomfortable, and a bit disgusting.

But something had to be done, and this was the best way to do it.

One of the properties of the plant was to consume and erase any type of ectoplasm, liquid, solid, or airborne.

The only way for Danny to carry it around was in his human form, which was why, to close up that pool of ectoplasm in the mountains of Pakistan, Danny had to get kidnapped by a strange group of fanatics in ninja outfits.

Which, alright, stranger things happened to him, but the guy monologuing to him might actually have confused him for somebody else.

Who was Tim Drake, and why does he want him to father one of his heirs???

[starry-bi-sky]

im dedicating this to @detectivedarling. i felt inspired after seeing their little ficlet yesterday sadhjfl 🫶

-

Danny's grip on his cane tightens.

"What—"

His voice cracks. He stops, clears it, then tries again in spite of the nausea twisting in his gut. "What are — you, uh, watching, Bruce?" He sounds horribly far away.

Bruce doesn't look at him, his attention laser-focused on the screen. Which is— fine. It's usually not a problem, Bruce gets like that when he hyper-focuses on a case, and unless it's urgent — or he's been at it for hours — Danny sees no need to pull him away from it. He likes the quiet camaraderie they have, it's companionable and unique to the two of them.

He wishes he was right now though. Looking at him, that is.

That way he wasn't watching what was clearly one of Danny's ghost fights. One of the nastier ones, if the collateral damage and rubble on the street is of any indication.

Danny tries to remember which one that is. He shuffles a little closer to the desk, ignoring the rock in his stomach or the ugly weightlessness in his arms. It's not the blood blossoms, that much he knows. He just recently had an injection so it shouldn't be bothering him this soon—

So it's just nerves. Perfect.

Most footage of his fights are— messy, at best. Unusable at worst. Amity Park was obsessed with appearing 'normal' when they first started happening, and typical news stations censor the worst of the fights anyways for publishing, since they can get pretty gory at times. And ghosts move too fast to be caught on regular standard cameras, not including distance and light and—

That is to say— finding usable ghost fight videos is hard.

Danny wonders how Bruce got his hands on this one, and then stops wondering.

The audio is muted, which is - good. Good, because the fight is ugly and chaotic and clearly this was taken on someone's phone. Fuck, he can't remember if he ever saw that before — clearly not. They're hiding behind an overturned car, and Danny grits his teeth so he doesn't tell that idiot to run.

The camera turns up, and focuses on two figures in the air. It takes a few seconds, but when it does, Danny gets hit with a wave of vertigo. His grip tightens and he leans heavily on his cane, he waits for the black dots to disappear.

He- uh, he remembers this fight now. Uh, sort of.

He remembers being twelve at the time, and he remembers some of the injuries he got out of it. His eyelid spasms abruptly. This ghost wasn't one of his regulars, so he doesn't remember whatever name they had, barely remembered what they looked like up until- uh. Now.

Was he always that small? Well— Phantom's never been particularly big, perks of being a dead kid, but— it's - different. Seeing it from an outsider perspective. Was he that small? Or is it just because he's wearing a jumpsuit clearly too big for him that casts the illusion of being small?

Doesn't really - matter. Now. He can't access his ghost form, and he already knows the answers to his appearance.

Phantom is clearly bleeding, viscous and violently green like the bubbles of a lava lamp, clutching onto a limp shoulder that's missing an arm from the elbow down. Half his face is drenched in similar blood, the eye on the drenched side is closed — not because he can't see through the ectoplasm.

Danny's memories of that fight slowly come in a bit clearer. Right. He took a pole to the eye in that one. That had - hurt. A lot. Getting an eye gouged out usually does. It and the missing arm took hours to grow back.

He rubs his eye with his palm for no other reason than it itches.

The other ghost isn't untouched of any injury either, but he's not in a state of dismemberment like Phantom is.

Danny drops his gaze down at Bruce, whose sitting in his chair with his hands threaded together, looking so tense that Danny half expects to meet solid steel if he were to touch his back. His face is - blank. Terribly blank, with an intensity in his eyes that Danny doesn't see often.

He looks terribly distressed.

He opens his mouth, and finds that nothing comes out. His throat is thick with an ugly, tar-like feeling that makes his eyes sting. Kinda reminds him of when someone wraps their hands around your throat and presses. He closes his mouth, then tries again.

"B—" hhhhhh, "Buzz."

Finally Bruce looks at him, one hand slaps the space button on the keyboard, and the video pauses. His expression doesn't shift, but there's a weight in the lines of his face that reminds Danny of a set of weights sagging.

He looks quite like he's grieving something.

Bruce opens his mouth, his voice comes out terribly soft and heartbroken: "He looks like you."

Which is— a terrifying sentence in and of itself. One that makes Danny's legs shake and ignite his ragged, poison-chewed nerves alight with the need to run. An instinctive urge to deny, deny, deny.

How could he? He could say, that's a ghost, Bruce. I'm not a ghost. He could crack a joke, and ask, 'do I look dead to you?' or say something about how he knows that his parents studied ghosts, but that didn't make him one.

He could say that, and he could say it knowing full well that Bruce would see right through it. He'd probably let Danny too.

Danny closes his eyes. They sting, you see? So does his nose, right in the back like someone popped him in the face. And his throat is thick and gross and like someone stuck a spider, the big fat tarantula kind, right down into his esophagus.

He breathes in — through his mouth, because his nose stings and so it'd be best not to irritate it further with air — and it's terribly shaky and uneven. But it clears a pathway to his lungs big enough for him to say — whisper, really:

"You know, I think you're the first person to notice that."

[leashybebes]

tidbit tuesday

thanks for the tag @rcmclachlan. here's some summer project/cherry blossoms. what a nice and normal day they are having. i'm sure nothing will occur to upset this. 🙃

The first two calls of the day are quick, back-to-back car crashes. The second's a little more involved because the driver of the blue Honda went right into a fire hydrant and the probie has to chase off a bunch of kids who are playing in the impromptu water park that resulted.

On the way back to the station, Ravi gets on at him again about using some of his contacts to help them do up the house.

"I told you, man, Tommy's got it covered," Buck says. "He's got a whole workflow mapped out, it's honestly kinda hot."

"Good god, there's two of them," Ravi says to the air.

"Clipboard Kinards," Hen says from up front.

"Yeah, yeah," Buck says and smiles. "Did I tell you about the tiles we ordered for the kitchen?"

"Like five times," Ravi jokes.

"Only five?" the probie - Justin - asks, and gets a round of laughter and whooping cat calls that always accompany a probie's first attempts to join in the loving mockery that is the heart of any firehouse.

"You're all just jealous of the beautiful tesselation we're gonna achieve," Buck says, tapping his foot against Justin's to say good job, probie.

"Well, don't come crying to me and my kitchen guy when you screw it up," Ravi tells him.

"My old man's a contractor back east," Justin says. "Let me know if you need any help."

"Probie lore!" Hen calls over the radio and from the ambulance Buck hears Chim and Eddie bickering about the bingo card.

Justin gets a smile on his face that Buck recognizes from his own probie days, from Eddie's, from Ravi's. It's cute.

"Seriously, though," Ravi tells Justin. "Don't get too close to these two idiots, they're both deeply weird and they'll try to adopt you no matter how many times you tell them your own family is perfectly functional, actually."

"Did you not hear me say contractor back east? What about that says functional? I'd love some gay dads."

Over the sound of Hen cackling from up front and Ravi laying into Justin about his terrible taste in mentor-figures, Buck tries to decide whether he's more touched or offended at the idea he's old enough to be someone's surrogate dad.

let's call this an open tag because i need to go inject some caffeine directly into my veins and i have no brain power (it got melted)

[kizzer55555]

Super Dead Soulmates

In this universe, any injury or scar you sustain appears on your soulmate. However, for as long as he could remember, Danny never gained an injury that wasn’t his own. When he was very young, his parents would always say that he was just a late bloomer and perhaps his soulmate was a few years younger than he was and thus, just wasn’t born yet. As Danny grew older, they got more absorbed in their work and just seemed to forget about the whole ordeal. Danny never asked them about it again, afraid they might think a ghost had ‘cursed’ him or something. It was hard enough to hide the lack of additional scars at school. Luckily, most people don’t get injured very often so it was easy enough to play off some of his injuries as that from a soulmate. The only ones who knew the truth were his sister and his best friends. Danny was just convinced that he didn’t have a soulmate and had accepted that fact, even if it hurt. Then the accident happened and for once, he was thankful his soulmate wouldn’t have to feel his pain. And even more so when he started to fight the other ghosts daily. Danny was content to live like this, but with more ghost fights, his injuries started piling up. Danny excused them saying that they were from his soulmate. It didn’t completely get rid of the scrutiny but most people bought it. Afterall, how else would puny Fenton get those kinds of bruises? So for a while, that excuse worked…until someone realized that Danny and Phantom’s injuries linked up (I vote Wes). Now normally, the natural conclusion would be that Danny and Phantom were the same person. But due to the fact that one of them was dead and the other clearly alive, everyone gained a new theory…that Phantom was Danny’s soulmate. It would explain the recent injuries as Phantom was often seen fighting other ghosts. And to be honest, this was the perfect cover. It’s not like Danny had an actual soulmate who might show up and this added another layer of protection against people thinking he and Phantom were the same person. So Danny remained silent and let the rumors grow. Sure people now thought he and Phantom were dating but that was fiiiiiinnnneee. (But BOY was that an awkward conversation with his parents). 

And then Kon was born.

As a clone, all he knew from the outside was implanted into his mind. He knew the color of the sky, the sound of music, academic equations and a lot of common knowledge such as soulmates. He knew that injuries were shared between a bonded pair and that everyone had a soulmate. But he was different. He wasn't born a baby and grew up alongside another person. He wasn’t even real according to some people. Yet one day, he noticed bruises lining his arms, he was confused. He should have had impenetrable skin like Superman. As far as he could remember, his skin had never been pierced before. And it’s not like he fought a godlike being that day. He shouldn’t have any injuries. Kon decided to ignore them but the injuries kept showing up. It got so bad that his team started to notice and sat him down asking if everything was alright with his powers or if he was exposed to kryptonite somehow. So, very confused, Kon had explained that the injuries just kept showing up. It was only after his team gave him a curious look and explained the concepts of soulmates did everything click with him. Sure, Kon knew about soulmates but surely that couldn't be what this was! He was a clone! He shouldn’t have a soulmate. It was impossible! But after a few more days of observation and a bit of testing, everyone determined that this was, in fact, a soulmate bond. 

To say Kon was ecstatic was an understatement. Actually, it was a mix of excitement, nervousness, worry, and joy all rolled into one. He was elated at the idea that he had someone meant for him. Someone who would accept all of him. Kon had looked at the others and there had always been a slight jealousy when he saw a paper cut bloom on their fingers or see them rub a bruised knee fondly. 

But more than anything. He was happy because this was proof that he was real. Afterall, a soulmate wouldn’t match with him unless his soul was equal to theirs. His body almost melted with relief at that realization. A weight off his shoulders he never fully grasped was still there. 

Of course there was the worry of why exactly his soulmate had so many injuries. For a hero, it was obvious they would get injured (although they tried to have as much protective padding as possible to limit that possibility. But some injuries still got through.) Yet the amount of injuries Kon’s soulmate sustained were far more than that (because Danny lacked proper padding  and didn’t think he had to worry about a soulmate. Most injuries looked worse than they were anyways due to his fast healing). And on the contrary, Kon’s skin was perfectly clear. With his kryptonian biology, even if he got hurt, it never left a mark. So all the injuries and bruises sustained on him were purely from his soulmate. And there was enough for two people. On the bright side, it helped with his cover, on the downside, Kon started to worry about his soulmate. (Meanwhile, Danny didn’t notice a difference. Sure, sometimes he would feel a temporary ache or sharp pain but no mark was left so he just assumed the pain was sore muscles from a previous battle or that one of his rogues were hitting harder than he thought.) 

As for Kon, he and his team used every resource at their disposal to try and track down Kon’s soulmate. They did this for every member of the team as hero soulmates were in more danger than most but they paid special attention to Kon’s soulmate due to the rapid accumulation of injuries. 

Kon would fantasize on what his soulmate would be like. Would they be tall? Short? They would probably be able to fight. Boy or girl? It doesn't really matter. Kon knew opposite gender soulmates were more common but he wouldn’t mind a guy either. His days were filled with dreams of a mystery person. Someone he could hold in his arms and protect. Who would comfort him after patrols and who he could introduce to his friends. 

After a while, Tim finally found a lead. Some doctor records of a boy in a small town called Amity. Apparently he was prescribed pain medicine to help with ‘soulmate injuries’. The lost of injuries were extensive and after looking at some pictures, they realized that his scars and Kon’s scars lined up. A perfect match. So it wasn’t long before they made a quick road trip to Amity. 

This place was already on the Justice League radar. It was a town that appears to have a permanent portal to the afterlife and was attacked often. (Which might explain why Kon’s soulmate was so injured). The Justice League had not interfered yet because the town had a local hero as well. Someone who seemed good at his job and who Tim was even thinking of recruiting. So this was a good opportunity to hit two birds with one stone. Afterall, not much was known about this mysterious Phantom other than he dedicated his afterlife to protecting this one town. Once they got to Amity they would probably need to check in with Phantom before anything. And despite his impatience with finding the person who might be his soulmate, even Kon was excited to meet this hero. Apparently Phantom had vast experience but also a major power set. He might gain another flying buddy or someone he could wrestle with without worrying about his strength. Afterall, Phantom also supposedly had super strength and even if he didn’t, it’s not like you can kill a ghost. Yet no matter how hard they looked, they couldn’t find him. It was only by coincidence that they stumbled upon Danny instead and his group of friends. 

The first time Kon saw Danny, it was like coming home. He wanted to do nothing more than rush to his soulmate and hug him and vow to always keep him safe. He wanted to prove that he would be the best soulmate ever and he wanted to know everything there was to know about him. He was practically vibrating where he stood in his civilian disguise and it was only his friends that held him back from flying over and surprising the poor boy.

But before he could do anything, a ghost attacked. Kon barely had enough time to grab his friends and dodge when some kind of glowing creature crashed into a building. And while normally he would immediately find somewhere to change, Kon’s first instinct was to check on his soulmate, only to see the two people he assumed to be the boy’s friends but no sign of Danny. Frantically looking around, he didn’t notice the glowing creature behind him (was that a dragon?) but before it could reach him, another glowing figure intercepted the attack. They looked almost ethereal with white hair softly floating in the air and a suit that hugged his muscled form tightly. The figure turned around and gave a sheepish smile towards Kon. “You ok?”

And it felt like for the second time that day, Kon was rendered breathless. 

Someone was protecting him.

Someone was protecting him?

Yet it felt…nice. Warm.

Before Kon could gather his thoughts though the battle picked up in earnest. He and his team found cover and changed into their suits. When they came to help, the person Kon assumed to be Phantom looked surprised at their sudden appearance but it wasn’t long before he and everyone else started working together. Unfortunately, actually fighting the ghost seemed to be impossible. Whenever they got close, their hits just passed right through so Phantom quickly regulated them on defense and citizen protection duty. Occasionally getting a hit in when the creature was tangible. Watching Phantom fight was something. Kon could understand why he was elected to join their team. He had this sort of grace and power that couldn’t be explained in words but was clearly from the experience of many battles.

Despite not being able to do much, fighting with Phantom was fun. They seemed to be completely in sync and it wasn’t long before Kon started to enjoy his loud commentary and puns as the two ghosts fought.

However, one particularly hard hit made it so that the dragon’s claws grazed his chest. Leaving three shallow gashes, but Phantom took the close proximity that attack gave him and sucked the creature into…a soup thermos?

But Kon wasn’t focused on that. He was wholly focused on the stinging pain suddenly coming from his chest, underneath his untouched uniform that clearly had not been hit. Kon didn’t know how to process what was happening. Everything suddenly became louder and he vaguely tried to move but it was like his mind became mush as he tried to process what that meant. He managed to get away for a bit and undid his shit, looking down to see three shallow scratches along his chest. Scratches that perfectly mirrored Phantom. In the corner of his eye, Kon saw a head of black hair and witnessed as Danny reunited with his two friends he had been separated from in the chaos. And as Danny twisted to hug them, his shirt flipped up enough to see another identical 3 scratches along the boy's stomach. Perfectly mirroring Phantoms. 

It was only later that Kon and his team did some more research on the town and it’s ghosts and learned the unofficial secret that Phantom and Danny were dating. That Phantom had Likely come back from the afterlife to protect the town his soulmate lived in. On the bright side, at least now he could confirm Danny really was his soulmate. And he knew where all those injuries were coming from.

Kon had found his soulmate.

Correction, he found his soumates

And they were already bonded to each other.

…

….so where did that leave him?

There are now two options. 

1: Kon decided that he just needs to woo both his soulmates and starts doing so both as Superboy and as Conner. Danny is very confused who these people are (because as far as he knows, he doesn’t have a soulmate, and since Kon doesn’t visibly show injury, there is no sign (unless Danny somehow injures himself in a place that is visible but he’s been trying to avoid that to make everyone worry less.)). Kon goes all out. He gets flowers, chocolates, writes poetry (whether good or not doesn’t matter) starts wooing Phantom in hero form, showing off his strength and skill whenever possible. (And unfortunately, also his dork side when he isn’t paying attention while flying) Asking to hang out, insist on paying for everything. Danny sees this tall Hunk who is paying attention to him and he doesn’t know what to do. And there are TWO OF THEM! (Also, in this version it might be funny if people suspect Danny and Phantom are dating but don’t know for sure and since they are never around each other, people might assume they just don’t know. So Sam, Tucker, and Jazz are all for Danny possibly starting a relationship with Kon along with Kon’s team who are cheering them on and trying to help the poor clone boy who has no experience with romance. Meanwhile literally everyone else in the town who likes Phantom is trying to run interference and get Danny and their hero together. 

2: The angst option. Kon decides that the fact that he has two soulmates who are together is likely a result of him being a clone. It’s not that he had someone waiting for him (how could he think someone was waiting their whole life just for him? How stupid was he?!) Kon had just hijacked a different bond. So he tries to stay away. Unfortunately, Tim had talked with Phantom while Kon was out of it so now they have started to team up. This makes avoiding him very difficult as he keeps running into Phantom. Moreover, he runs into Danny because they need him for the ghost hunting equipment. And slowly but surely, Kon falls in love with ‘both’ his soulmates but doesn’t want to get ‘between’ them. And Danny wants to know why one of his new teammates is avoiding him.

[snowblossomreads]

Sunlight

Summary: In where Severus receives a small yet lovely gift from his wife on his birthday.

Pairing: Severus Snape x FemReader

Tags(s)/Warnings: Oral (Male Receiving) and Fluff

Word Count: 2.2K

A/N: And in a non-unhinged Snape story ^_^! Look I know his bday isn't till January but if you believe, his bday can be every day LOL. This lil short was inspired by a rare wholesome idea that me and @deepperplexity chatted about (love you dear 🥰🥰🥰)

Of course, though I had to add something spicy into it bc well you know me.. Anyways please enjoy and let me know how you like it!

There had been some sort of mild surprise when Severus had awakened on his 70th birthday to find that his hair, once an intermingling of black and white strands had turned fully white seemingly overnight.

The change hadn’t been immediately noticed well because honestly, he had been more interested in the more pleasurable way he was being woken up. Which was with the lips of his wife wrapped deliciously tight around his cock as she enthusiastically mouthed at his hardened shaft before she was taking him into her mouth with fervor.

Even though he had been fast asleep just moments ago, this was more than enough to fully wake him in both senses as his hand trailed down and his fingers looked for [Y/n].

His hand was met with her own as she gave it a little squeeze before she was coming up for air, the hungry look in her eyes was barely visible due to the lack of lighting from the curtains still being drawn.

“Good morning,” she purred before she was leaning back down and sucking at the tip of his cock, tongue swirling in his leaking slit and lapping his seed up right before taking him almost completely in her mouth in one go.

A loud groan filled the air of the dimly lit room as his hips canted upwards burying his cock deeper down her throat from the sudden burst of pleasure that flooded his veins. His head fell back against the pillows as she held his hand, his thumb stroking the top of her hand as she continued.

“Oh my love that’s it, use that wonderful mouth of yours. So beautiful,” he panted as he felt himself already close to release.

She moaned a noise of contentment at the praise as she raked her nails lightly against his thigh, feeling the quiver of his muscles as she swallowed around him enjoying his noises of pleasure.  He wasn’t going to last long as he felt his cock begin to throb incessantly at the attention it was receiving from his wife and it wasn’t before long that his fingers were tightening around the bed sheets as his limbs began to tremble and stiffen at the impending orgasm. 

A few more well-time sucks here, another languid lick there and [Y/n]’s mouth was being filled with a salty liquid that she greedily drank as Severus shouted her name before letting out a prolonged moan as he emptied himself in her mouth.

Once she was sure she had lapped everything up, she gave his cock one last gentle squeeze and a kiss, causing Severus to shiver as he ran his fingers through his hair, groaning quietly at his morning call.

“Happy birthday to you~,” [Y/n] sang playfully as she crawled up towards him, damp lips pressing against his softly and letting out a faint sigh as he kissed her slowly, the taste of his spend still lingering as he did so.

Fingers stroked her bare hips as their lips languidly met each others. Little rumbles came from Severus' chest as [Y/n] would nip his bottom lip playfully, and quiet squeaks left her own lips when he would bite back. 

It wasn’t before long she was letting out a giggle as she pulled away from him causing him to arch an eyebrow as she shimmed out of his hold and out of bed her body still on display.

“[Y/n]?”

“Meet me in the kitchen in twenty!” Was all she responded with as she grabbed her robe that had been tossed haphazardly on top of a chair from the night before. Wrapping it around her and securing it she turned and gave him a wink as she scampered out of the room, a soft tune being hummed from her lips.

By the time she was already out of earshot, Severus couldn’t help but let out a chuckle as he ran his fingers through his hair. Head flopping back down into the pillow as he let the buzz in his body calm.

Almost exactly after twenty minutes passed he did appear in the kitchen, hair still a mess and a bit of sleep still in his eyes as he was more interested in what [Y/n] was up to.  And that’s where the change would be noticed as he saw the twinkling awe in [Y/n]’s eyes as she placed the last plate down on a beautifully decorated table and came up to him when he entered the kitchen. 

At first, he was confused as she stared at him as a child would at their new toy. Mouth slightly agape in a smile, eyes wide as she went to play with a few loose strands that were in his face before she whispered in a barely contained amazement,

“Severus your hair! It's gorgeous!”

Not having glanced at himself in the mirror when he woke up, as he had gone to find [Y/n] after her wake-up call he was of course even more puzzled as she continued to play with his hair, a squee leaving her as she pecked his lips.

“Ohh! Happy birthday, darling but I think the lucky one is me today! Merlin, Severus I never thought you could become even more handsome but I was wrong!”

“Love what are you talking about my hair is the same as yesterday albeit less combed considering the early present you decided to give me.”

Her smile instantly grew at his words before she let a raucous laughter burst from her lips while she also tried to speak.

“Well I'm sorry dear I had to get breakfast ready for you but also the same? Severus! Did you not even look in the mirror yet? Unless you’ve been using the color change charm on your hair all these years then I suggest you take a peak.”

Now this had him frowning as [Y/n] gently nudged him back in the opposite direction as he was still utterly perplexed at what she had said.

Her tinkling laughter was still audible as he padded into the hallway, making a beeline for the bathroom to see what in the world she was talking about.

However, when he did finally see what she was going on about he had to say that he was slightly taken aback about the sudden color change, due to it being...well sudden of course. One day there was just a light smattering of white strands in his mostly dark hair that he would fuss about whenever he saw more of them show up. 

But now that it was just white as snow, he was surprised that he wasn’t more annoyed by it than before. There was a simple acceptance of it. He didn’t allow himself to ponder it much longer as he went back to join [Y/n] in the kitchen and a bright smile on her face as he came to join her at the table.

They ate, basked in each other’s presence, chatted about the plans for the day, and finally when finished [Y/n] happily gave him a beautifully wrapped present that contained an assortment of rare potion ingredients that she had been able to get imported for him.

"That’s not all though!” He remembered her preening at him, the soft crow’s feet in the corners of her eyes visible as she smiled brightly warming him in every way as she pulled away from the hug he had engulfed her in and opening her palm to show him what she was holding.

A deep purple piece of satin was in her hand that seemed to gleam in the morning light that streamed through the windows and danced on the walls.

“Oh and what is this for?”

“Don’t be silly Severus, you know exactly what this is for. How many times have I seen you fuss at your hair when you’re working on something?  You think you would put it up more often with that brilliant brain of yours but here I am, or rather here is something that will do it for you!”

There was only a playfulness in her tone as she scolded him while handing him the smooth piece of fabric.

“I thought it be a good gift, had it charmed so that it ties itself and doesn’t come loose until you tug on it. Try it darling.”

Taking another curious look at the fabric he did as he was told, sweeping his hair into a ponytail and lifting the ribbon towards his hair, and to his surprise, it indeed slipped from his fingers like it had a mind of its own and in a second he could feel his hair being pulled and secured. 

“A lovely gift indeed, though I wonder how much of it is a gift for you as I know you have a penchant for pulling my hair down when you get in a mood.”

There was a little smirk on his features as she grinned back at him while wrapping her arms around his waist and snaking one arm up to loosen the fabric. As she had said after a gentle tug it easily came loose and so did the long white strands of hair that framed his face and tickled hers a little as he leaned his head down.

“What can I say Mr.Snape my deviousness knows no bounds when it comes to you.”

“And I would have it no other way love.” 

That was the day his hair had turned white which if he was being honest was not a day he had ever thought he would ever see considering his more hazardous youth. 

But he was more than grateful to be able to see it after all those years of being shunned. Years of heartbreak, pain, and suffering at the hands of others and even at his own hands. He was happy, ecstatic even if he didn’t show it to be here celebrating it with his doting wife whom he had also been lucky to meet decades ago. 

The one person whose presence and love felt like sunlight coming through a glass pane on a cool fall day. Warming him gently, with her adoration and kindness that he had so needed after years of neglect.

That birthday was also the day he had received his favorite gift as simple as it was. Each day afterwards he would wear the ribbon, picking it up from its place on top of a velvet box that it came with and tying back his hair that had grown towards the middle of his back.

He had toyed with the thought of cutting it as he did many years ago, but the doe eyes that [Y/n] had immediately shown him when she begged him not to was what had saved the strands.

And now with the ribbon his routine slightly changed, which sounded silly to say. Whenever he knew he was about to be up to something that would benefit from not having hair in his face the ribbon was the first thing he reached for. 

Whether it was potion making, taking notes, or cooking meals for him and his love the ribbon was in his hair. And with it, it also felt as if [Y/n] was sitting beside him even on days when she had to leave the house and he was left to his own devices. 

Such a simple gift yet it meant the world to him. 

And so it became a trend that whenever it was time for a gift-giving occasion he would find himself saddled up with a new ribbon from [Y/n]. From the color to the style of the ribbon, there was always a variation, something that made it a little different from the last.

‘Just in case you want to switch it up.’

As she had smartly said when she had given him his second one. Yet even as his collection grew, the love for the first one grew with it. While the other ones were just as finely made and maybe even richer in style and fabric, the first one with its beautiful purple sheen was still ever his favorite. 

When [Y/n] asked him about it as she watched him take it off one night she was met with silence as he made himself comfortable. His arm wrapped around her shoulder, and brought her close to his side as a soft noise of contentment escaped both of their lips as she cuddled close and looked up at him waiting for an answer. 

Looking down at her with dark eyes that were always so gentle when they were on her, he spoke, 

“I think it’s because it reminds me of our love darling. No matter how much time has passed or how much it has endured day in and day out it keeps it shine. Never dulling, never fraying. I’m truly quite fond of it.”

The light that was in her eyes seemed to brighten as she lifted her hand up to finger through the white strands that framed his face. A smile was offered up to him as she leaned up to bump her nose against his, nuzzling it gently as she stared at him.

“Oh Severus.”  Her whisper was tender, and soft like the touch of his fingers that went to hold her side. “I love you, darling.”

“As do I [Y/n], as do I.” He answered back to her, eyes glinting with adoration as he pressed their lips together gently in the dimly lit room that felt warm with affection and care that would always be there for them both.

A/N: Long white-haired Snape is 👌👌👌 Like it's just an image I love so much. His hair tied up as he sits with his wife in their cottage just being cute together. It makes my heart hurt and wobble yet also tight with happiness. Anywhose thanks for stopping bye and reading

Feel free to scream at me as always ^^!

[todayintokyo]

Early-blooming Kawazu-zakura at Sakura Jingū in Sakurashinmachi, Tokyo. The manga artist Machiko Hasegawa—one of the first women in the profession—lived in this neighbourhood, and her story Sazae-san is set here. That explains the last picture.

[jamiethebeeart]

Dannymay Day 7: Blood Blossoms

The first time Danny bleeds – really bleeds, since becoming a halfa and he thinks little of it. He wasn’t watching where he was landing during his transformation and scrapped against a dumpster as he landed. A little drip or two as he shook out his arm and it was healed. The little evidence left behind quickly forgotten.

Late at night it glowed softly, pulsing.

The second time, Danny just had rotten luck. He’d fallen asleep doing homework and as he crashed to the floor, instincts having him transform mid-drop, a pencil – a pencil! – had stuck him. He stared for a moment, first at the pencil, then at his blood – red and green speckled, a little weird, but he shrugged and cleaned up his hand before heading downstairs for a snack.

The third time, he was caught by Vlad in the middle of the woods. Danny was twisting around, trying to aim behind him, powers on the fritz, when a lucky shot ripped through his flickering arm.

Drip drip drip.

Danny didn’t think much of his parents talking about a new ghost flower. Not until he wandered down to the lab, large scale map of Amity tacked to the wall. One. Two spots. Both places Danny – no Phantom, had been recently.

And a third spot. One sitting right on top of their house.

Danny blinked. Stared. Blinked again, then turned around and clomped up the stairs.

The fourth time was a trap set by Skulker. Nothing exceptional, but this time he collaborated with Technus and threw in a few nasty tricks. It left Danny bleeding out on the forest floor, dirt smearing across his slick hazmat – shirt - hazmat.

A boom of a laugh echoed through the trees.

Danny wheezed, blood dribbling out, his expedited healing slow to stop it.

He heard a crunch. Stared through eyelashes to see the shape of a boot poof up dust. Danny smelled iron. And citrus. And something green. His head thunked back, too tired to keep it up.

The footsteps stalled. A curse bit out.

“You! Whelp! What is this?” Horror.

Danny smeared blood across his face in a desperate attempt to rub his eyes. The arm falling back to his side now crushing something soft. His face scrunched up. Eyes cracked open. Dark velvety leaves shaded his face. He rolled his head over. “Huh?”

Another curse before the whir of machinery powering up and the whoosh of air filling a previously occupied space.

Danny blinked. Once. Twice. Wiggled his feet. Closed his eyes as he felt the bleeding slow to a stop. Opened them and sat up.

He was sitting in a small field of the newly coined blood blossoms. A trail disappearing off in the same direction where Danny had stumbled in from.

(special shoutout/inspiration to: (warning GORE) this post x where I continued the thought into: what if a halfa's death/blood creates blood blossoms as a way to protect them from ghosts?)

[airenaiy]

Maybe cause he is 🤡

Check out my ccard for art commissions as they’re currently open right now 😚✨

[navybrat817]

Sweet Navy! ❤️

For Ficlet Friday, I would love to see something with Eternal Brand! Stucky? 🥺❤️

Like maybe smutty prompt #1 “let me kiss it better”? 🥺😌

And if you’re looking for anything more specific, maybe one of the guys wore her out - like barely functioning, drooling into the sheets and mumbling incoherently - while the other was out running errands or something 😌 And then when he comes back, he wants in on the fun and promises to kiss it her pussy all better 🥺😱😌

If this doesn’t strike your fancy, please feel free to ignore it ❤️

You know I adore our tattoo artists! Hope you enjoy this ficlet.

Lucid

Pairing: Tattoo Artist!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader x Tattoo Artist!Steve Rogers

Word Count: Over 300

Warnings: Smut, oral sex (f. receiving), talk of safe word

Steve heard your worn-out cries as soon as he walked in the door but took his time setting his keys down and slipping his shoes off. He followed the noise to the bedroom and watched the scene in front of him with a small smile. Your face was wet with tears, your hands tied above your head, your entire body trembling as Bucky feasted on your delicious cunt. The blonde licked his lips and wished he had his mouth wrapped around one of your hard nipples. The view of Bucky's perfect backside was a sight, too.

“Wore her out already?” he asked, making Bucky stop and look over his shoulder with a smirk, shine around his lips. “I didn't think I was gone for that long.”

“You were gone for hours,” Bucky corrected him, spreading your legs wider. “And I couldn't help myself. It's fun wearing our Blossom out.”

“He's a bastard,” you whined, your eyes dazed as he ran a finger along her slit.

“Yeah, I'm a bastard,” Bucky chuckled. Steve didn't deny that. “But she practically fucked herself on my tongue and my cock even with her hands tied, so what was I supposed to do?”

Steve swore under his breath, wishing he was there to witness that. “You check in?” he asked, looking between both of you as he stepped closer.

Your head lolled to the side. “He did. Still green,” you promised. They always checked in. “But he's still a bastard,” you mumbled.

Both men chuckled at that. “Poor Blossom,” he cooed, leaning down to kiss your lips. “Let me kiss it better.”

The brunette moved out of the way so the blonde could take his place. “Yeah, let him kiss it better and I'll let you taste yourself.”

A tear slid down your cheek, but you managed a smile. “You're both bastards.”

But they were your bastards, and you loved them so.

Love and thanks for participating in Ficlet Friday! ❤️

[bethanydelleman]

I'm watching a Chinese drama called Blossom right now and it's doing historical arranged marriage in such an interesting way and it's making me think more about my post about arranged marriage and particularly, what models of marriage has the female character seen growing up?

Because maybe part of why the Sad/Angry at arranged marriage princess/noble woman feels so hollow is because the mother is usually placidly sitting beside her husband pushing for marriage too. If your parents have a fine arranged marriage, what are you so worried about? It can come off more as a petulant kid than a real denunciation if we don't have indication that they really know what they're mad about or afraid of (Eloise Bridgerton...) Especially when they keep emphasizing how the girls are sheltered and ignorant, where did she manage to get this disillusioned?

This drama has so far shown three failed marriages, all unique. One marriage broke down because the husband was sexually assaulting female servants, another because after emotionally supporting her failure of a husband for 10 years, he took a second wife right after getting his dream job (that one felt so real), and the last woman accepted her marriage wouldn't have affection but was appalled when her husband cheated on her with her half-sister as it violated her sense of marital decency and respect.

What I really like the most is the characters mostly buy into, and all of them expect, marriage to be explicitly political. The whole mindset feels a lot more genuine to the time period. No one is Shocked Pikachu Face that they'll be asked to marry someone for family alliance reasons. And the anti-marriage female lead, she earned that opinion. She knows. She's haunted.

[sevenlikesfrogs]

Hey it’s me again international best selling author Quan Millz

Mostly peachcacao bc they rot my brain

[starry-bi-sky]

in-world social media is so fun to think about in aus, in blood blossom especially too. like, unfortunately due to danny's (multiple) circumstances he can't go outside in public often, but i was thinking that after a few months of laying low at Bruce's house he would like, get to tag along with Bruce sometimes to Wayne Enterprises (with a face mask and a pseudonym) and i love thinking about how the internet would blow up at his first captured appearance.

like hi yes hello, gotham's favorite sad wet cat of a man has adopted an??? even sadder??? wet cat of a boy?? look at him. he's sopping and pathetic. bruce wayne did you kidnap a child??? WHO IS THAT

[leashybebes]

wip wednesday thursday

tagged by @frogsinflannel and belatedly getting into gear. here's some more summer project and i'm afraid it's more go girl, give us nothing

"I'm thinking tacos for dinner," Buck says, swinging the refrigerator door shut. Chim gives him a thumbs up from the couch and Eddie salutes absently from where he's on his damn phone again (if this carries on, Buck's going to have to grab it from his hand and launch himself down the pole to figure out exactly what the fuck he's up to).

"Cap?" he checks, twisting his ring around his finger.

"Sounds great," Hen says, not glancing up from the stack of paperwork she's slogging through. "Thanks, Buck."

Buck refills the coffee mug at her elbow and she pats his arm in thanks. It had taken a while, but he'd finally stopped feeling that weird sense of unreal duality when he called her that. She's more than earned both the position and the title, no matter how long it had taken for her to accept that, and for the rest of them to adjust to it.

From down in the bay he hears Ravi yell, "Probie! That is not how we roll the hoses."

Buck's so proud. "I'm gonna gift wrap a chainsaw for him."

"The real Buck 2.0," Chim says.

"God help us all," Hen says, signing a page with a flourish.

"Workplace bullying," Buck claims half-heartedly.

let's call it an open tag. i need to go lie in front of a fan and throw back antihistamines like they're tic tacs 🙃

[ohmyarda]

Written for @daflowerzine. Spot illustrations by @kalidels.

VANDAL ARIA. A flowering shrub that is often associated with the rose due to its sweet scent. Its closely related cousin, the felicidus aria, is capable of growing in blighted lands. The vandal aria - while lacking in this quality - still tends to be found almost everywhere, especially warm and dry climates. It's said that if the vandal aria is left unchecked, it will overtake an area.

Now that the zine has been fully published and the left-over sales are finished, here is my contribution to ARDENT BLOSSOM: A Botanical Compendium. Inspired by Solas' interpretation of an especially stubborn plant who does not always perceive surrender as an option. I'm a good sucker for foreshadowing; thank you for letting me write!

Transcript under the cut.

“Amidst the ever-shifting dunes, I see it – that small, flowering shrub that grows stubborn against the drifts. It blooms as if ignorant of the hostile terrain that it is has made home, or despite it.

‘It would not surprise me,’ the Warden Blackwall commented as we sat near each other in the light of the feeble campfire that illuminated the immediate space around us, ‘if the Vandal Aria came first and the deserts came later.’

I watch in the glowing darkness as the sands batter against the rose. In a moment, I dread to see the meager shrub be torn apart by the blistering winds that chase down the slope that has assaulted our own tents for the better half of a few hours. Yet though its green stalk bends and its petals open to drink the storm, it does not break – it merely sways, a wayward dance in the nighttime.

‘It is desperate to survive,’ I say.

Days earlier, we crossed a withered landscape where the Vandal Aria had cracked the stone as it pushed its way to the surface. The entire length of the stoneway bridge was covered in the sweet-smelling herb.

I saw how she choked the life out of any other plant senseless enough to grow near her, as the Vandal Aria will risk no competition. She is as wild as she is determined.

We can learn a great deal from her – the will to survive, and the grim horrors that must be accosted in order to do so. It is a grave lesson that the Inquisitor has learnt. Let us not be so modest that we cannot acknowledge that in order for one to survive, the deaths of others might be had.

Yet, let me conclude these observations with this:

If even the Vandal Aria can flower in an endless vastness of nothingness, then so to, can we. Even when there is nothing, is there not the chance to begin again. One just has to ask themselves –

At what cost, and am I willing to pay it?”

A written account by the apostate Solas in the Hissing Wastes, 9:41 Dragon, preserved in the Skyhold Archive and recovered in 9:43 Dragon at the request of Divine Victoria.