#by god may i return to her not in a cold box but with warm blood running through my veins

[ratatatastic]

[reallyhatethiswebsite]

Hark! I submit an official request for Raphael and someone (dealer’s choice) getting hit with the old Sex Pollen. It could be a trick by Haarlep or a plant/mushroom releasing pollen/spores in Faerûn during one of his visits. I leave circumstances to your brilliant imagination.

I love the sex pollen trope and would love to see you write it :) As always, feel free to make him or both of them as tame or unhinged as you like! Thank you! 💕

❤️

Raph gets pollened ☺️

Read on AO3

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There was a lot of strange stuff to find laying about in the ruins of Moonrise Towers. Most of it caked in dirt, dust, and other unidentifiable substances. The kleptomaniac in Tav had her poking around, putting her mitts on everything before those little tiefling gobshites stripped the place bare.

She was enamoured by something: a big round vial that contained some viscous liquid which, when Tav cleaned the bottle a little, glowed an ominous dark purple. The stopper was wedged too tight to open. It had been fermenting for a long, long time. Tav had discovered the bottle in a box with a decrepit occult codex of some kind and a burned out incense holder. Bizarre findings that warranted further investigation �� after she’d raided everything else of value, of course.

“Well, well. Where should I find the mouse but scurrying about in a ruined old attic? Apt.”

“Shit!”

Tav nearly leapt out of her skin. The bottle went flying, shattering on the ground. A thin, noxious violet gas began to seep from its shattered corpse. The smell was pungent, stomach-churning; like rotten eggs and swamp water. Tav coughed and gagged, eyes wet, glaring at the devil who’d startled her so badly. He stood there innocently, unassuming, a single eyebrow raised at her display of drama. So much for finding out what that potion did.

“Do you enjoy getting the jump on people, devil?” She said waspishly, moving further away from the mess. “Gods, that stinks.”

“Sometimes. Mortals are much more likely to agree to certain things when they’re frightened,” Raphael purred. He tilted his head, taking a small whiff of the gas. “Hmm…it smells like peaches to me.”

Peaches, sure. “What do you want?” Tav crossed her arms. Never turn your back on a devil. Especially this one.

“Merely to see why my favourite future client isn’t celebrating with the rest of her merry band,” said Raphael. Tav noticed he was surreptitiously inhaling deeper sniffs of the potion, like a dog that had caught an interesting scent on the wind. He may not have realised he was doing it. “After all, you freed the angel. You struck down the avatar of a God. One would think a hero of such calibre would at least raise a glass or two in victory, no?”

“I don’t like crowds,” muttered Tav, keenly aware he was mocking her. He was always mocking her. Raphael shifted his feet, coming just a bit closer.

“Yes, I know,” he said, his voice dropping an octave. “I know a lot about you, Tav. I know the kinds of people you used to do business with before the mindflayers took you. I know the kind of work you did. I know where you came from, and where you were going before all of this.”

“What?” Tav stared at him, aghast. A mix of horror and, inexplicably, intrigue squirmed in her belly. How did he know these things? Why did he know these things? Something was off, though. Raphael seemed, for a brief moment, as shocked by his words as she.

“All that is to say…” He adjusted his collar. Loosened it. “Hells. Why is it so damn warm all of a sudden?”

In a crumbling tower, battered by the chilling miasma of the shadow curse, the only warmth came from the Infernal himself. “It’s cold up here,” Tav said slowly. A bead of sweat rolled down Raphael’s temple in contrast. “Are…you okay?”

“What a stupid question,” the devil snapped. He was becoming flustered, a fetching flush spreading across his harsh cheeks and the bridge of his handsome nose. “I must return to the Hells. Goodbye.”

He clicked his fingers, intending to disappear in a burst of hellfire as usual, but nothing happened. A mere sputtering of sparks from his fingertips fluttered and died. Outraged, Raphael clicked them again, harder, as Tav watched with mounting anxiety. No portal opened. The devil went nowhere.

“Foolish little bint,” he snarled at her. Revealed his pointed canines when he sneered. Tav saw his pupils were rapidly expanding, consuming the sweet brown of his human irises. “What was in that bottle you dropped?”

“I don’t know,” Tav bit back. Always aggressive when she felt cornered. “And you’re the reason I dropped it in the first place. Maybe this will teach you to stop needlessly scaring people, though I bloody doubt it.”

“If you don’t watch your tongue when you speak to me, I’ll pluck it out of your filthy mouth,” Raphael threatened, low and throatily. He tugged his collar open completely, revealing his neck and some teasing wisps of chest hair.

“Oh I see, the devil’s feeling a bit poorly so he finally shows his true colours,” crooned Tav. “It’s about time. I was getting tired of your gentleman act, you know.”

“Ah…to have your skin hanging on a hook in my foyer would be such a delight…” Rumbled the devil, almost absently. He began to unfasten the buttons of his jacket.

“What are you doing?!” Barked Tav. He didn’t answer. Tossed his coat aside and moved onto the buttons of his fancy white shirt. It was damp with sweat – and this was when Tav noticed the bulge between Raphael’s legs. His cock, hard and proud, strained in the fabric of his trousers. A hot spike of desire shot through Tav’s body. “Oh, shit…”

The potion must have been some kind of demented aphrodisiac, made potent enough over time that just a few inhales was all it took. It must’ve been pretty strong indeed if Raphael was crumbling under its influence so fast. Except it wasn’t affecting Tav. She could admit – only to herself – that her tingles of arousal looking at Raphael’s big, deft, tawny hands work the small buttons of his clothes, at the glistening, hairy skin of his chest as he opened his shirt, at his puffy dark nipples, at the trail of fuzz going down his soft middle to vanish below his belt, at the outline of his erection, at the wet spot its leaking head made on his trousers…they were on Tav alone. She’d been attracted to the smarmy devil from the start.

Figuring all this out, Tav had one thing to consider as Raphael reached for his belt: what did she do?

Indulge, of course. An opportunity like this only appeared once in a lifetime. A street cat like Tav knew it better than most.

So she bit her lip, breath baited, as Raphael freed his cock and balls, both fat with need. Ogled as he furiously, shamelessly, rubbed his prick, squeezed its swollen sticky dark pink head, his tight scrotum bouncing with the force, staring right at her as he did. Sighed when he came in moments, grunting, cum spilling on the ground, all over his knuckles, everywhere. His expression was stormy, devoid of relief or rapture, his cock refusing to soften.

“It’s not enough,” he hissed even as he milked more cum from himself in oozing pearls that lazily trickled between his glans, teeth bared in frustration. “It’s not enough.”

He looked furious, frantic, frayed, and so, so fuckable.

“Come here, then,” said Tav, distantly aware of how breathy she sounded, “let’s try something else.”

He was on her in a second. A waiting predator pouncing on its prey. Tav could barely gasp before he was swallowing her mouth in harsh, biting kisses, one hand fisting the hair at the back of her head, the other holding her hip with bruising strength. Tav greedily put her hands all over him, yanking his silky too-perfect hair, scratching his slick chest and stomach, crushing handfuls of his pliant backside. He was like a furnace, radiating stifling heat. He smelled like cherries and musky sweat. So human, but for the hint of sulphur he simply couldn’t hide. His tongue tasted like wine and fire when he forced it into her mouth, hungrily licking behind her teeth. He was a man unravelling, so much desire pressed beneath the surface just waiting for an excuse like this to burst free, and Tav wanted to see it all.

“Wretch,” Raphael spat when they broke apart. The ribbons of saliva connecting their lips were tinged red. He’d bitten her bloody. “Invading my thoughts…my dreams…and now my body…”

“Your fault,” Tav retorted, crying out when he jerked her head back, rolling his aching prick against her clothed sex.

“Inside,” he growled, losing coherence, “need to be inside…”

He manhandled her, pushing her onto a nearby broken desk. With one hand, and in one yank, he pulled her trousers and smallclothes down to her ankles. Tav heard fabric rip but couldn’t find the will to care. The eerie, twisted moonlight coming in from jagged cracks in the stone, the cursed lands’ grotesque long shadows – these things stretched and warped Raphael’s silhouette into the monster he truly was. Tav swore she felt claws, fangs, horns, saw the glint of yellow eyes…but he was still a man, driven and desperate, who pried her thighs open and stuffed her full of his cock, who rocked up on the balls of his feet to get as deep inside her cunt as possible.

“Fuck,” she groaned, raking her fingernails down his back. She was wet and willing, but it had been a while, he’d entered her without preamble, and his cock was thick. He was unforgiving, selfish, searching only for his own pleasure. The stretch, the burn, as he used her, fucking her hard, fast, violent, was hideous and exquisite. She clenched her cunt around his cock and he came immediately, snorting into her ear like a rutting bull. Filled her womb with hot liquid release. She could feel it spurting out of his cock with every throb. He had so much to give, and still he didn’t stop. Couldn’t. Much to Tav’s delight.

There would be Hell to pay when this was over.

[edosianorchids901]

And Yet Not Cold

@sherlocktember2024 prompt - "scarlet"

“I have a gift for you,” Watson said suddenly.

Holmes, who had been automatically noting the professions and quirks of each person they passed on their walk, glanced up in surprise. “You have brought a gift for me on our walk?”

“No, no. I mean I have a gift for you back at Baker Street.” Cheeks red, Watson avoided his gaze. “It’s not for any special occasion.”

“Mm.” Uncertain what to say, Holmes simply kept walking. He and Watson were rambling about with arms linked this evening, sharing some little warmth against the chilly wind. “You might have waited an additional week, as Mrs. Hudson is once again enforcing her deeply ingrained belief that we must give each other Christmas gifts.”

Watson chuckled. “Oh, I have something else for you for Christmas. This is something extra. You have been working yourself particularly hard, and I thought you could use something nice. Well, hopefully nice.”

“I see.” Holmes had yet to do his own Christmas shopping. He did enjoy giving Watson gifts, but he preferred practical ones, such as a box of his favorite cigars or a bottle of fine brandy. Last year’s gift, a warm green cloak, was being put to practical use by Watson at this very moment. “Shall we return to Baker Street, then? I am a little cold.”

Watson gave him a knowing look. “Certainly, we may return to Baker Street.”

Holmes flashed a quick smile in response. He was indeed cold, but that was not what compelled him to return. Curiosity overruled all else. He could never resist a mystery.

He contemplated his available data in regard to the unexpected gift, and discovered that he had virtually none. It was likely something somewhat unusual, or else Watson should not be blushing and nervous. Unusual, and emotional or personal?

By the time they reached Baker Street, walking more slowly than they would have done in their younger years, Holmes had still come to no conclusions. This merely made him more eager.

“I hope you like it,” Watson said, and now his voice was taut with anxiety. “It’s all right if you don’t.”

“How could I not like a gift from my Watson?” Holmes said, indignant at the thought. “Deliver it to me this moment.”

Watson chuckled and extracted his arm from Holmes’ grasp, then limped upstairs. Holmes watched him, smiling. They would perhaps at some point require two beds down here, as it was becoming more difficult for Watson to ascend the stairs. Neither of them were young anymore.

On his way down, Watson groaned, but he was beaming as he entered the sitting room with a wrapped box. “Sit down, old man.”

“So I do not collapse from surprise?” Holmes said wryly.

“So you do not collapse from exhaustion.”

“Mm. I am a little tired, admittedly.” Holmes was always tired these days. It did not stop him in his work, although he was certainly not climbing up and down the side of buildings anymore. But on certain days, especially after a long stretch of cases, even a short walk left him breathless.

He sank into his armchair, and Watson promptly set the package in his lap. Watson did not sit, instead watching Holmes with considerable nervousness.

Still catching his breath, Holmes opened the package, and drew out a scarf. It was a rich scarlet, a brighter red than he usually wore, and knitted in somewhat uneven stitches.

“You made this, Watson?” Holmes asked, skimming his fingers across the soft weave.

Watson winced, cheeks going as scarlet as the scarf again. “I did. I know it’s brighter than you normally like, but the lighting in the yarn shop was deceptive. And I’ve only just learned to knit, so it’s—”

“It is excellent, Watson.” Pleased, Holmes turned it over in his hands. “It is certainly a bright scarlet, but I do not mind brightness in my scarves. And you have chosen a perfect yarn, both in weight and in texture.”

Watson half sat, half collapsed with seeming relief in his armchair. “Thank God. I asked Mrs. Hudson to teach me how, and I’m afraid I’m not particularly good at it.”

“Nonsense. You have made a scarf!” Holmes put it on and flashed a smile at Watson’s pleased laugh. “And as my good friend Watson knitted it for me, it shall no doubt be my new favorite.”

Leaning back in his armchair, he picked up his pipe, and Watson did the same. The wind howled outside their sitting room, and Holmes suspected from his observations that snowfall was on its way. But in here, with his new scarf and Watson’s warm company and laughter, he was well fortified against the cold.

[thewriterthatghostedyou]

Chapter 3

This week is finally over! Thank god. And I hope you all enjoy this next chapter!

Word count: 2,636

Warnings: canon typical violence, panic attack, and suicidal thoughts

Divider by @zaldritzosrose

‘Perhaps I’ll get lucky and Daeron will get skewered by a jousting pole.’ You thought bitterly as Gaella yanked your corset tightly. You let out a weak sputtering sound as you felt your chest squeeze too tightly for comfort.

“Gods, Gaella, how am I expected to breathe in this thing?” Once King Aegon had allowed you to return to Bitterbridge you had to fight the urge to burn all of the corsets you had from your time in the capital. Luckily you had abstained from such an act as you could not afford to buy new ones with Bitterbridge in such disrepair.

The timing of these celebrations were unfortunate as many other houses were struggling to rebuild after the battles fought and part of you wondered if such timing was deliberate on Aegon’s part before waving the thought away.

“I suppose in short spurts and very infrequently.” Gaella scoffed, lacing you up tightly before reaching for a silken underskirt. “How this ever became standard is beyond me.”

You shivered as the cool silk slid down your back and cascaded around your ankles, reminding you of water dripping down your legs as your corset gave you another sharp twinge of pain that seemed to resemble being shot with an arrow. Your hands become clammy as Gaella threw another layer over your head, and smoothed out the yellow fabric skillfully. Jace would understand what you were doing right? He’d know that you had no choice but to play along with whatever cruel game Aemond and Daeron had planned.

“All right, my lady, time for your hair.” Gaella said before taking a second look at your face, now feeling cold and numb.

Your hands began to shake as your chest heaved shakily. But what if he didn’t? What if wherever he is, wherever your family was, they were disgusted by your complacency? By your weakness? You should have refused to bend the knee to Aegon after Rhaenyra died. Was she cursing your name from the other side? Or did she even care to watch after you from wherever the Stranger had taken her.

The two of you had been close once, when Jace was alive. Jace… It had been easier to forget the pain his absence had left you in while talking with Lord Celtigar, but now that Aemond had taken a cruel interest in you, you couldn’t help but remember the pain Jace had felt at the loss of his brother… Luke… Would Jace really-

“My lady?” You shook your shoulders abruptly, jerking yourself out of your trance before giving the older woman what you hoped was a comforting smile.

“My apologies, I think I drifted off again.” You gave a forced laugh before stiffly walking to the vanity. “I fear that being in the capital again is… bringing up some less than pleasant memories…” You added cautiously as Gaella gave you a searching look before nodding apprehensively.

“All the more reason to leave this horrid city as soon as we can.” She muttered softly, sweetly brushing your hair back just as she had done hundreds of times when you were a child perched on your mother’s lap. You felt your heart slow at the familiar gesture and reason began to return to your head as you watched her quickly braid your hair into a complicated updo that kept your neck free from hair that may irritate it.

You bit your nail nervously, a habit you’d had since you were a child as Gaella stepped back and looked at you with a matronly smile. “You are ready, my lady. And once the lists have been completed I’ll have a nice warm bath for you to return to.”

“You truly are sent from the gods, Gaella.” You rise from your seat to give the older woman a quick hug. It was not the most proper thing for a lady to do, but frankly you didn’t care.

If forced to look at the bright side of this demand, you had to admit that sitting in the royal box seemed like it would be much more comfortable than in the wooden stands where the rest of the crowds gathered.

As you finished ascending the staircase into the risen platform, several notable figures caught your eye as you made plans on who to avoid.

There were three rows in the box, each rising a step above the other as if it were a large staircase that had plush chairs at each level. In the very back were lesser lords, you did not recognize most of them and had no desire to make their acquaintance. They were farther behind the rest of the party and seemed as if their view of the matches would be blocked by Aegon’s banners.

The only notable among them was a woman with pitch black hair who was soothing a young boy with silver hair on her lap. You eyed the boy curiously. He was too young to be Aegon or Viserys and while Rhaenyra had been pregnant when Sunfyre had eaten her, her newest child was only three moons along and too early to survive such a blast. The strange woman paused for a second, her eyes flicking up to meet yours and you swallowed slightly as she eyed you with an intense gaze. It wasn’t hostile or judgemental, but curious bordering on recognition as you met her eyes before looking away, your gaze shifted to the second tier.

There sat the small council: Lord Jasper Wylde, Tyland Lannister who wore his hood as he always did nowadays, and Lord Larys ‘The Clubfoot.’ The three men were on the right of a large ornately gilded seat that sat Aegon himself, half of his face twisted by burnt flesh and you fought to keep your face stony so as to not show your delight as his discomfort. At his left was his mother and daughter. You felt a pang of pity flash through you at the young princess. She sat as still as a statue in her seat, with a dissociated look on her face that seemed as if she was well beyond her years.

A coy giggle diverted your attention away from the somber child to the final row, the occupants of which made your lip quirk into a scowl before being replaced by its regular neutral expression. There sat Aemond next to Carina Wylde on the side of his good eye, leaving only one empty spot on his bad one. A spot that just so happened to be next to Daeron Targaryen himself.

Taking a deep breath to calm yourself, you strode over to the spot, taking extra care to avoid glancing at the youngest prince as you sat down on Aemond’s left. But in your peripheral vision, a trait that Aemond did not possess, you noticed that he stiffened as you passed him and refused to look at you as well.

“Ah, Lady Caswell,” The One-eyed Prince said lazily, having to turn nearly his whole body to look at you. “How wonderful of you to finally join us! The festivities are about to begin.”

You hummed thoughtfully, staring straight ahead at the empty field refusing to look at either prince. “Well it wouldn’t do to miss such a… spectacle. It is why I returned to the capital, after all.” If he thought that he was humiliating you by placing you on the side he could not see in favor of Carina he was sorely mistaken. It only meant that you did not have to make tortuous small talk with the man and that his interest truly was waning.

“Yes well I was unsure that you would heed my invitation.” Aemond shrugged slightly. “As much as I would enjoy the pleasure of your company, as intended, your tardiness has made it so that my attention has been diverted.” You chanced a quick glance to Carina who pretended to be very interested in the favors allotted to each lady, but you knew that she was listening intently.

“I can see that.” You responded calmly, refusing to betray your irritation. “Lady Carina is an adept conversationalist, I take no offense in her presence.” You spoke honestly. Perhaps if he married her already he would leave you alone.

“Wonderful.” Aemond said in an insincere tone with a smile that did not reach his eyes, but as that smile widened you knew that you were not out of the dragon’s lair yet. “It seems like you will have to make do with my brother. I’m sure you both will get along as quickly as a noose takes to traitors.”

You saw red at his comment. How fucking dare he bring up your mother’s death in such a callous way? How dare he-

The younger prince on your other side cleared his throat as you fought the urge to throttle the man besides you. “The first pair are about to begin.” Was all he said, refusing to turn his head your way.

You fought to keep your breathing even and calm as two knights atop heavily armored horses took their places at the edges of the field. You didn’t know what house they belonged to and did not have it in you to care as their lances splintered against the solid metal of their breastplates.

It was now more than ever that you wished you knew how to wield a sword. Your blood tingled through your hands as you craved the ability to slice through as many greens as you could before you tasted the bitter steel of an enemy’s sword. Perhaps if you were able to, you might have been able to die an honorable death instead of living a dishonorable life as an oathbreaker, living as a ghost of yourself and shoveling away your rage for the fear of who else may be harmed from it.

Perhaps then you and Jace could be together. Perhaps you just wanted to be at peace and for the world to quiet. Perhaps the idea of following your mother’s footsteps crossed your mind one too many times. It would be so easy. To leave. Everyone else had already done so, so why not you?

Your mind flickered to an image of your family, once proud but now only you remained. Sighing you steeled your resolve once again. No. You couldn’t die. Not yet at least. You had work to do and a family name to restore.

You had lost too much to let your line end here at the hands of these cravens. If your desire to live was not strong enough on its own, spite may have to be your motivator. And a powerful one it was.

“You look lovely today, my lady.” Came a stiff voice beside you and finally you dared met Daeron’s gaze. Up close he looked like the younger boy he was. Only one and eight compared to your two and three.

You said nothing, vaguely hearing the sound of a body being dragged off the field in the distance.

“I-” Daeron took a deep breath before speaking again. “I had hoped that I could talk to you while you were in the city.”

You remained silent, staring straight into his violet gaze that held a pitying look similar to the one you had sent his niece only minutes ago. Perhaps you would be as somber as she was if you received such a stare day in and day out. You refused to let him see your pain. Pain that he caused, so he would receive nothing. The same terms he gave your mother and brothers.

Daeron flinched as metal clashed against metal and another round began, cutting off the awkward silence between the two of you and the crowd roared in approval at whatever the result was. “What happened… during the war…” He trailed off softly.

He swallowed slightly before he spoke again. “I did not mean for things to happen as they did that day.”

If he wanted you to respond he would be sorely disappointed as you were as still as the ice flowing through your veins.

“I did not know that Maelor was dead until we reached the gates.” He explained hurriedly. “I only sought to bring him home, to his mother- my sister.” His eyes widened as he continued, seeming to forget that you were there. “When my Uncle returned with his egg I made a horrible decision. One that has haunted me since the day it came to pass.”

‘And gods willing will continue to do so until the day you die.’ You thought bitterly, the words that were relayed to you ringing through your head again and again as he sliced through your brothers’ small bodies. Boys only five and two years old. ‘You will receive the same terms you gave my nephew Maelor.’ Maybe you could throw him off the balcony to be trampled upon by the horses below. Your victory would be short lived, but satisfying as all hell.

“I had only meant to burn the inn it occurred at.” You flinched violently as he gripped your wrists with white knuckles and eyes widened and far away. “You must believe me, I didn’t know it would spread as much as it did and when the gates fell… I didn’t know how to stop it. How to stop them.”

You scoffed as you tried to pull away from his vice-like grip. “So you are blameless in all of this. How surprising. You say that you could not control your own men, men you grew up beside as a squire, to which I ask did you really want to?” You hissed quietly, accidentally bumping into Aemond as you struggled out of Daeron’s grip.

Daeron blinked quickly, regaining his senses as he slumped his shoulders as he was about to answer.

“My Lady Caswell!” The three of you whipped your heads to the field below to where the tourney had been raging.

You let out a small smile at the sight of a lord you did not recognize, but was thankful for the distraction nonetheless. The young man had dark black strands of hair that clung to his forehead and a face that you could appreciate from where you were sitting. You recognized his shield immediately as that of House Leygood, another vassal for the Tyrells. The young man was battered by a fight, but still standing as he held his lance out towards you with a charming smile on his face. “It would be a great honor if you were to grant me your favor for the fights ahead.”

“Here.” A light feminine voice called out softly to you as you stood to greet the man below and you took your favor, a wreath decorated with yellow daffodils and white roses, from Carina’s outstretched hand. Carina beamed at you as you took the favor from her and turned to the field. Much to the unexpected displeasure of both Targaryen princes.

“I wish you good fortune on the battles ahead Ser…” You trailed off, gently sliding the wreath down the lance.

“Lucas Leygood, my lady.” You heard someone scoff behind you, but ignored the sound. “Well Ser Lucas Leygood, I look forward to watching you fight.”

The young knight gave you another bashful smile before steering his horse, a beast that had a brown coat with black speckles, off the field so the next match could begin.

As you returned to your seat you noticed Aemond giving you a venomous glare that made you want to smile wider. It seemed as if his plan to humiliate you in favor of Carina in front of eligible suitors had failed.

Although you resumed your previous silence, you found yourself lost in your thoughts about the two choices for a husband you seemed to have.

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[pennylane-dreams]

Apple Scruff Carol Bedford’s “relationship” with George Harrison Part 2

After returning to London in May 1970, Carol’s story becomes more “intimate” I would say as her “relationship” with George continues. The Apple scruffs witness the break up of the Beatles and the drama between everyone and even describes an incident where reporters physically attack George outside the studios and the scruffs help remove the reporter and get George to his car to escape, also making sure no one else attack the other members when they leave the building.

There are a few odd interactions with Mal but he was known for hitting on the scruffs. Margo warns the others that Mal uses your interest in one of the Beatles to make his own pass. I’m aware those incidents are described Living the Beatles Legend.

After staying almost all night outside the studios, the scruffs decide to call it a night and head home. Carol states on her way to where she’s staying, George’s car pulls up beside her. During this interaction, George gives her a book; The Autobiography of a Yogi by Yogananda. There's been a few people that have said that George would give out this book to friends and family.

“I want you to remember something that will help you,” George said, seriously. “God is in you and everyone. We all have God in us.”

The next day, Mal finds Carol and asks her if she read the book yet and said that George was “anxious” on her opinion of it.

There’s interaction Carol and George was when Carol was heading to her bus stop after leaving the studio. George’s car pulls up beside her and offers her a ride home, which she says yes to. It’s sad conversation, both of them are talking about depression and he talks about the pressure of being a Beatle and his lack of privacy. Carol offers him a number to a clinic where he can talk to someone about his depression. I can see one of them venting to a fan or to someone who will listen especially with everything that was happening during that time. Unfortunately, Carol just had to tell the others about the car ride and the talk they had which she shouldn’t have done. It’s not their business.

“This is special. You’re the only one of us to get close to one of them. […] I’ve had loads of conversations with Paul but none that personal. George was treating you like a friend. […]”

Jumping ahead to the day where Mal asks the girls to come into the studio. Entering the control room and are played the song Apple Scruffs for the first time which they was in awe. They thank George for the song and even gift him flowers later.

The 1970 Christmas party part was a little crazy to me. Carol sent George a letter, thinking he was making fun of them by coming out of the studio saying how “warm” it was in there and it’s cold outside. (No one making camp outside girly. That’s on you lol). During this conversation, it almost feels like a "confession" scene that George says while drunk.

“He [George] gently pushed me into a narrow area where the filing cabinets made a small box square. […] George stepped in front of me and leaned against the wall. He then pulled me closer in front of him. […]

'If you think of me, I'll be there. I'm with you always, in here.' he tapped my breast gently and removed his hand. 'I'm not sure what you mean by that. it would be impossible to "get over you." Every time I turn on the radio, I'll hear your voice. [...]". “I’ll [George] always be with you. We’re apart of each other. I wrote a song about us the other day. It goes like: I, I, I love you. You, you, you love me. We’re together always. We’re in each other. You don’t need to see me walk out of a building, do you?”

Who knows what happened at the party but drunk men can say pretty wild stuff.

As the story goes, Carol continues on with her small moments with George and her relationship with the other scruffs.

One of the craziest things she said in this book is implying that George wanted to start an affair with her by moving her into a LA apartment so he can visit her without the media finding out which of course doesn’t sound like George at all but this is Mal telling her that this is what George wants, only for Mal to force a kiss on her. So either Mal was telling the truth or wanting her to be vulnerable to make a move on her.

After this, she decides she needs to stop “waiting” outside the studio for George and move on with her life which is understandable. She does what she can to avoid him and the last time she saw George was when he entered the A&M Records (where she was working at the time) when he was creating his own label Dark Horse Records.

I know people don’t like Carol’s book and say she lied about most of the things in her book but I found it interesting and I’m not taking it to heart. I remember reading something about George being upset about the book, but I can’t remember where.

It does at first feel like reading someone’s diary but it takes a turn half way through. It does read a lot like fanfiction and if it was, it would probably do well on Wattpad to be honest.

Excerpts from Waiting for the Beatles and photo from fellow fan.

[holdupjack]

Touches Pt.3

——————

Pairing: Hermione Granger x Fem!Reader

WARNING: SMUT/18+/FOOD PLAY

Part 1 - Part 2

——————

Hermiones P.O.V:

I anxiously stood in front of HoneyDukes, waiting for Y/n to arrive, she's ten minutes late.

What if she decided to not come?

Did I push her into something she doesn't want?

Oh Merlin-

"Sorry I'm late! I had a run in with Hagrid and he was telling me about a new creature he found"

I turn to find Y/n walking up to me with a soft smile, her cheeks and nose are red from the cold air.

"Have you been waiting long?" She asks and I quickly shake my head.

"N-No...I can't believe you came" I whisper with a small smile and she gives me a confused look.

"Did you think I wouldn't?" She asks and I pause for a moment, unsure of my answer.

"Hermione..." she trails as she leans down next to my ear.

"I don't pleasure just any girl" she whispers and my face heats up at the comment.

"Shh!" I whisper back and she giggles into my ear, pulling me into a warm hug.

"Granger, I was literally whispering" she laughs out and I sigh, melting into her embrace.

It feels...right.

"Come on, it's cold out here. I'll buy you something hot and sweet...like you" Y/n winks as she pulls away and grabs my hand.

My finger link with hers as she pulls me into the shop, her eyes light up at all the choices.

I giggle as she pulls me to a secluded corner with a row of candies that had caught her eye.

"Hm...Pink Coconut Ice and Black Pepper Imps? That gives me an idea..." she whispers, a form of mischief in her eyes.

"What is going through your mind?" I ask and she gives me a sheepish smile. Y/n leans down to my ear and her breath hits my ear lobe, making me shiver.

"Something for us to try later" she chuckles and my face heats up once more.

"Come on, I'm buying" she says as she pulls me around the store again.

After an hour of perusing the shop, we left with two bags full of different candies and drinks for us to try.

"Ready for cavities?" Y/n asks and I giggle.

"I don't think my parents would be very proud of me" I laugh and she smiles, holding out her arm. I take it and she pulls me into her.

"I won't let you get cavities, but I'll gladly eat the rest if you won't" she giggles and I hum, watching the side of her face.

"Come on!" I laugh as we rush back to the castle.

——————

We sat on the bed of the room of requirement, the candies and drinks sprawled between us.

"Are you really going to eat that?" I ask as she pulls out a jelly slug.

"Does the movement gross you out?" She jokes as a she hold out the candy, is squirms slowly in her hand.

I shudder at the sight and push away her hand, a loud laugh echos through the room and I smile widely.

Y/n eats the gummy and looks back down at the pile, my eyes travels down the line of sugar to two boxes.

"Why did you buy these?" I ask as I hold up the two boxes.

"You want to skip the candies to find out?" She asks, her devilish smile returning.

My face burns as dirty thoughts that enter my mind.

"A-Alight" I whisper as she quickly swept the sweets back into the bags.

"May I?" Y/n asks as her hand is held out for the boxes.

She takes a candy from both boxes and holds them out.

"Which one?" She asks and I gently take the pink one, popping it into my mouth.

Instantly the taste of coconut invades my tastebuds, but the feeling of coldness spreads around my mouth.

It feels like eating a box of mints and then drinking ice cold water.

"Open your mouth Granger" she whispers and I do, my steamy breath exhaling from my lips.

"Pink Coconut Ice, turns your mouth into a icy glacier" she laughs, popping her own candy into her mouth.

Her face scrunched as black smoke escapes her mouth.

"God, it's feels like I ate a jar of jalapeños" she coughs out and I giggle.

Y/n sticks out her tongue and it's black with red cracks that had small flames coming from it.

Suddenly she pushes me down into the bed, into a steamy kiss, quite literally.

The ice and fire that replaced our tongues causes steam to erupt from our noses. The sound of popping is muffled in our mouths as my tongue fights Y/n's.

When we pull apart, our tongues have returned to normal and a single string of saliva still connected us.

I feel her fingertips ghost my thighs as she pulls a pink candy from the box beside my head.

Her fingers disappear from my thigh and rise up to slowly remove my shirt.

"No bra again? I'm starting to think you don't own one" she giggles as steam flows out from her mouth.

"The first time was an accident" I argue and her chuckle turns dark, her lips attack my neck.

I gasp at the cold lick. Goosebumps rise over my body as her tongue trails down to my breasts.

"So you don't wear one for me? Naughty girl"

Her lips sucks my nipple harshly as her icy mouth licks and nibbles on it, I moan loudly into the empty room.

My fingers slip through her hair as I shut my eyes in pleasure.  Her body pushes my legs apart as she removes her mouth from my breast.

As she descends, my pants and underwear are pulled off and my entrance is exposed and eager for the girl in front me.

"Are you ready for my experiment?" She asks and I look down to her, the Black Pepper candy is held between her fingers.

I could feel my entrance quiver at the sight of her hungry mouth, I nod and watch as she eats the candy.

Black smoke erupts from her mouth once again, as she leans towards my core.

She slowly pushes her tongue into me and I gasp loudly, arching my back.

The heat from her tongue turns my vision blurry, my moans escape me with no problem.

The feeling of Y/n humming as her tongue vibrates inside me, makes my eyes rolls into the back of my head.

My back arches from the bed again as my legs wrap around the girls head.

Her fingers reach up and starts to rub and flick my clit harshly.

"I going to-" I'm cut off as a loud moan escapes me again, the knot in my stomach tightening.

"Y-Y/n!" I scream, my legs shaking violently as white spots take over my vision.

I came into Y/n's mouth, her tongue makes a popping and sizzling sound as she cleans me up gently.

It's quiet as I catch my breath, I feel a hand intertwine with mine and I open my eyes to see Y/n looking over me.

"Open your mouth"

I slowly open it and a string of spit falls from her lips and into my mouth.

Coconut and myself swirl in my mouth.

"Good girl"

[gayassbish]

FIREWORKS IN THE SNOW WITH YOIMIYA! MODERN AU

From the CHRISTMAS event! Find it here! | 1.6k Words

Genre: Fluff

Reader: Gender Neutral

Synopsis: Celebrating your girlfriend's family's winter-tradition!

YOIMIYA recently remembered how there’s a special tradition in Naganohara family.

Whenever Yoimiya was a kid, her dad would light up these specially crafted fireworks- made especially for the winter times.

The were special in the sense that they could be visible even amongst the brightest, plummeting snow. As a child, Yoimiya loved seeing the white sky illuminate with the even brighter light of fireworks.

However, Yoimiya will admit it has been a while since she’s done that. Moving out of her parent’s home and the years getting busier with the trials and tribulations of adulthood has led to her no longer continuing that tradition. But, being with you has really taught her that it’s important to embrace your inner child and reminisce those memories.

So on the day forecasted of the first snow of the year, Yoimiya invites you over. It’s been several months since the two of you guys have been dating (after being friends for a while.) And Yoimiya decides what better way to celebrate than reimbursing an old tradition!

Hence, why here you are- walking up the driveway to Yoimiya’s house. But before you can even ring the door bell, she bursts the door open. “Oh my god! You’re finally here,” Yoimiya gives a quick peck to your check before pulling you by the hand. Running behind her through the halls of her house, she gives you a big smile and says “Come on! I got it all set up for us.” And before you can even register everything that happened you’re already in the backyard of her beautiful house.

You stand in the middle of it in awe. “It’s so… romantic.” You take in your surroundings and look toward Yoimiya who wears a proud smile. What were once orange maple trees, are now naked without their signature warm leaves; and a lit with golden Christmas lights. There’s a stuffed animal-filled tent, placed in what was once a flower garden of marigolds, that is facing the direction of the trees. But it is not without the big brown cardboard box in the middle of the yard filled with various of fireworks.

“I may have went a little over board.” Yoimiya says sheepishly while rubbing her neck, “But I really wanted to make this special… for us you know?” She looks back at you with a soft smile that you can’t help but return.

“It’s perfect.” You hold onto her neck and give her a quick peck. “Even better than I imagined!” You say cheerily and watch your girlfriend beam as she wraps her arms around your waist.

“Just wait till we get these bad boys in the sky!” Yoimiya says all giddy. “Oh, and I set a tent for us so we could wait till the snow comes out!” Yoimiya takes you by the hand to the her cozy tent.

Free from the chilly breeze you enter inside first and sit down on the blankets and pillows Yoimiya prepared for you. Yoimiya comes in and zips the tent up to keep the cold air out.

“This is so cute!” You hug onto a lion plushie and watch Yoimiya turn a faint red.

“Ha.. a little embarrassing to admit but I’ve had Leo since childhood.” Yoimiya flusters in her own memories of sleeping alongside her lion plushie, Leo.

“Aww and you even gave it a name! I think that’s even cuter!” You put down the soft toy and continue to ask about the various other plushies inside the tent.

While Yoimiya takes a trip down memory lane, you watch the tent get darker. Small little dots fall onto roof of the bright tent and Yoimiya pauses in her story to look at you.

“It’s snowing!” Said in synchronous excitement, Yoimiya quickly unzips the tent and you follow.

The light snow melts quickly into the palm of your hand. Yoimiya tries to catch a snowflake onto her tongue as you can’t help but giggle at her silliness and snap a selfie with her acting all goofy.

“I don’t think I’ve ever caught the first snow before! Is this a sign of good luck?” You ask as you watch Yoimiya fumble in the box of fireworks.

“Hmmm… I’m not sure to be honest. But whenever I’d shoot these babies into the sky, I’d make a wish!” Yoimiya holds up several different types of rockets- that make you question their legality- but with Yoimiya's assured smile, you can't help to think they are.

“Well, let’s get them into the sky!” You grab some of the fireworks from her to help her out and watch her light them one by one with a matchbox.

“Step back a bit.” Yoimiya protectively holds her arm out to push you back. As you both wait intensively for the first one to light up into the air.

“Okay ready? Three… two… one…” The crackling noises come to an end as the first of the fireworks goes into the sky, “Quick make a wish!” And the other fireworks follow up into the air and explode.

*BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!* They pop into the air as you watch Yoimiya close her eyes and cross her fingers and you do the same, secretly wishing to come to do this again next year.

When you open your eyes again, you see a view that’s even more beautiful than you’d imagine from what Yoimiya described she saw as a kid. The fireworks light up the pale white sky with a hue of yellowish orange, and it almost looks like the stars are amongst the snow. It's breathtaking.

“Wow…” You gape in awe and Yoimiya chuckles.

“It’s pretty amazing, right?” Yoimiya turns to look at you as she takes in the beautiful view of the sky alongside you getting lost in your own world.

“Yeah…” You get lost into the view while Yoimiya lights up hand-held sparklers.

“Here, take ‘em!” Yoimiya hands you two sparklers and quickly runs to the back of her house. “Wait right there! I’m coming back.” And before you can even ask what’s she’s doing.. she’s off.

You take the time to enjoy the sparklers in your hands, watching them fizzle out and putting them alongside the rest of the used fireworks.

Yoimiya comes back with a blanket bundled up under her arm as she drapes it over your head.

“What’s this for?” You giggle, pushing the blanket, so it doesn’t block your view.

“You were so lost in the sky that you didn’t even notice you were shivering, silly!” Yoimiya grabs the ends of the sheets to wrap it around you securely. She tugs on the ends and nods to herself to make sure you look ‘warm’ enough to her. “This will do.” She smiles at you and sits down on the dead grass, patting the area beside her as you join her.

“Don’t you want to come in?” You open the blanket and offer for her to snuggle alongside but Yoimiya shakes her head.

“I’m good at this temperature, but can I lay my head on your lap?” She gets comfortable on your thighs- before you can even agree. Already using your legs as if it were her own personal pillow.

“Hey! I didn’t say you could yet.” You fake an offended pout and Yoimiya laughs, shifting more of her weight on your legs.

"Oho, am I no longer allowed too, hmm?" Yoimiya pesters you teasingly and you can't help but give in.

"I never said that! Just that you couldn't... yet." You mumble looking away, already admitting defeat, but Yoimiya can't help herself but to press on.

"Hmm? What was that? I couldn't quite hear you?" Yoimiya grins cockily.

You scoff, "Ugh you heard me!" You scowl down at her and Yoimiya laughs, putting her arms up in surrender.

"Alright, alright, you got me... I'll stop." Yoimiya laughs and looks at you semi-earnestly, "...for now anyways."

"Yoimiya!" You squeal and watch Yoimiya laugh. She just can't help herself to stop teasing you. Your reactions are much too adorable to her, so much so, that even when you guys were still friends harboring crushes for each other, Yoimiya really had to have immense self-control to stop herself from making you into a flustered mess whenever she got the chance to.

But if it wasn’t obvious enough, she's really happy you reciprocated her feelings. Being with you has allowed a sense of calmness in her colorful life. Your presence is always a soothing one to her, she'd say.

Which leads to where you are now. Yoimiya comfortable on your lap, watching your face peek out from the blankets and the snow still falling from above. She finds herself thinking that this is a sight she could get used too.

"Hey, Y/N?" Yoimiya interrupts your thoughts as you got lost in the view above, yet again.

You look down at her, "Yes, Yoimiya?" You ask jokingly, trying to lighten up her serious face.

"Thanks for doing this with me." Yoimiya says out of the blue, and before you can comment on her needless gratitude, she continues. "I've wanted to get back into recreating my old memories for nostalgia purposes but... I guess I sorta lost motivation, being so far away from home," Yoimiya reaches out for your hand inside the blanket and you clasp her hand back, tight.

"I wouldn't want to recreate or create new-old memories with anyone else." You gingerly look at her to which Yoimiya gives you a big smile- one that reachers her eyes.

"Why don't we do this again next year?" Yoimiya sits up to meet you eye level. "Would you like that-"

"I'd love it!" You cut her off, too excited at the sound of her words. "It can be our new-old tradition!"

Yoimiya laughs, "Yea, it will."

The night comes to a close with more laughs and snuggles, but you can't help but wonder if wishing on fireworks really does make a wish come true.

__

A/N: I’M SO SORRRY THIS IS LATE... I don't like making excuses either so... yeaaa

[certkidwhocantdomath]

Back from Beyond: Johnny Cage's Return

Additional tags: Blind Character, Blindfolds, Referenced Character Injury, Referenced Character Death, Healing, Resurrection, Johnny Cage-centric, OP Johnny Cage(I mean- he defeated a fallen elder god and destroyed a cityscape!)

⚛》》》》》◆《《《《《⚛

Johnny had woken up alone and warm.

Alone?

Warm?

Sure, Bi-Han was an early riser but they usually get up together so they can walk around the academy, enjoy the sun rise and talk to eachother.

And warm? Bi-Han was practically a human air conditioner so he kept the bed nice and cold.

He heard a quiet gasp come from his right.

"Oh, oh dear. You've woken up quite early.." Said a shy, quiet and feminine voice.

It was a voice he did not recognize.

"Where am I?"

"Oh uh... You are in the infirmary."

"Infirmary of?"

"Of the Order of Light.."

Order of Light? He heard Ashrah mention that clan before.. It was the one she joined after she left the Brotherhood of Shadow.

"Who are you?" Johnny asked the girl.

"Meditrina.."

"Okay, Meditrina, can you tell what happened and why I'm here?"

"Well my boss, Raphael, found you while she was out for a walk. You were grievously injuries so we struggled to get you back alive."

Johnny stayed silent.

"It was at that point we drew several sigils around your body to keep the healing magic stable."

"Trina, who are you talking to?" Another voice, feminine but deeper than Meditrina's.

"I.. Uhm... Mr. Cage meet my boss, Raphael." She quietly introduced.

"You are up quite early, Mr. Cage."

"Yeah, I guess.."

"I may have a spell that can restore your eye sight. To an extent."

"To an extent?"

"Yes. You will be able to see that outline of something of something but you will not be able to see color as everything else will be pitch black."

"Hey, outlines is better than seeing nothing."

"Very well then. Lay down."

Johnny lies back down on the bed.

Meditrina held his hair back as Raphael started drawing a sigil with ash. She mumble a quick chant and the sigil glowed gold before turning black and is tattooed to his forehead.

Now, Johnny saw a lot.

He finally saw what Raphael and Meditrina looked like.

Raphael has tight twin Dutch braids and is wearing something both an adventurer and healer would. She stood poised with confidence, arms crossed.

Meditrina has a loose French braid and is wearing something mainly a healer would. She stood slouched with shyness, arms wrapped around a pieces of paper that are clutched to her chest.

Johnny sat up and noticed something. His blindfold is gone, the one Kenshi wrapped so tenderly and so gently around his head.

"My blindfold, where is it?"

"Ah, it was ripped in your battle"

"Battle? What battle?"

"You.. Do not remember?"

"Uh, no. What battle?"

"Oh! Uhh, I sewed a purple blindfold for you as a replacement! Let me go get it!" Meditrina changed the subject and scurried off to an ornate box.

There she pulled a, assumingly, purple blindfold with a dragon scale design.

"It's purple with a black dragon scale design, by the way." Meditrina explained as she walked back to him and gently tied the blindfold over his scarred sockets.

"Good? Not that tight?"

"Nope, all good."

Johnny attempted to get up but his back hurt like hell. He groaned and was eventually helped by the ladies.

"Ugh.. Damn, my body hurts like hell. I feel like an old man with full gray hair..."

"Probably because you do...." Meditrina mumble under her breath.

"What?"

"Uhhh..."

"Mr. Cage, most of your hair has turned gray. Most likely from your incident." Raphael answered for her assistant.

"What incident?"

"Nevermind..

"I will admit, Mr. Cage, you look quite dashing with gray hair." Meditrina admitted.

"I have sent for our best chiropractor. He will help with the ache in your bones." Raphael butted in.

"Okay, thanks."

The ladies eventually left and a few minutes later the outline of a man made itself known.

"Good morning, Mr. Cage. I am Galen."

(Pronunciation: Gay-len)

"Good morning, it's nice to meet you, Galen."

"Likewise, Mr. Cage. Ms. Raphael and Lady Meditrina said you are feeling sore, so they sent for me."

"Yeah, my bones have been hurting for quite a while now."

"I can help with that. Please lay down on your stomach."

Johnny does as he is told and he feels a satin cloth drape over his legs and ass.

Galen started off with simple massages, adding several times of ointments and amenities to skins. Then he started cracking the knots in bones away.

After, Johnny felt anew.

"Wow, I feel like refreshed. Thank you, Galen."

"No problem, Mr. Cage." Just as Galen was about to walk out, he suddenly remembered something and turned back to him.

"Ah! Ms. Raphael said that you may go to the library if you wish. It is the next room to the next"

"Okay. Thanks for telling me."

Galen nodded and walked out.

Johnny stretched once more and cracked his knuckles. The star just then noticed he was wearing just shorts.

He looked at his legs and he saw more sigils. And scars.

How'd he get those?

Johnny shook his head and looked around. He saw a pair of black casual baggy drawstring boho pants. He grabbed it and put it on, it fit him perfectly.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Johnny walked to the library and entered and then he realized another thing. What the fuck is he gonna do here?

Outworld doesn't have the Titanic or Twilight. Not even Green Eggs and Ham!

So Johnny simply looked around the shelves, hoping to find something interesting.

And so he.

THE KARLATUN CLAN: DEFENDERS GREEK AND SCANDINAVIA

That's promising.

The cover was of a woman in a toga with long hair, wings, a bow and arrow with the quiver on her back. The woman was seemingly flying in the clouds

Johnny pulled out the generally small book and opened to the first page.

ORIGINS OF THE KARLATUN

The Karlatun initially started off as a small village in Greece, located in the outskirts of Edenia. Though poor in money, they were rich in luck; they have been loyally devoted to their goddess, Bia, for several years through their devotion came fortune.

When they asked rain for their crops, Bia gave rain, when they asked for warmth in the cold hard winter, Bia gave them warmth. They had a large shrine built just for her in the middle of their small village, the statue smelt of incense and different types of grasses, roots, cereal grains, fruits, cheese, oils, honeys and milk surrounded it.

Unknowingly to Johnny, as he continued reading, two magical objects incased in strong glass was shaking and glowing purple.

CREATION OF THE KARLATUN

The tyrant king of Edenia, KING ARGUS, heard about this and he grew envious. "How could such a small village with no gold or jewels be so blessed?!" Argus thought. Having had enough of this blasphemy, King Argus sent his army to kill the villagers, destroy the village and their statue. Zeus, the god the Edenians were loyal to, heard of this and told his loyal companion, Bia. She was not happy.

Bia went down to Edenia herself and spoke to her loyal devotees by possessing the very statue they created. Argus had planned to attack them at their weakest, as the Karlatun were having a supper.

As she possessed the statue, the eyes glowed white. "My children. The King of Edenia plans to eradicate you all. Hide your children and elder hide them within the farthest cave you can find, for they cannot know what shall happen". The Karlatun were afraid but they listened their goddess' instructions. They hid their children and elders within a cave returned to the village.

The magical objects were now shaking violently and glowing brighter.

BLESSING OF THE KARLATUN

As the rest of villagers returned they got their knees and bowed before Bia. "O great goddess of force, what shall we do to protect our village?" A villager asked.

Bia took some bread, blessed it and said; "take it, for this my body which is given to you." Bia said as she watched her loyal devotees take apart the bread and share it among themselves.

Bia took glass of wine, blessed it and said; "this is my blood, it is poured out as a sacrifice to forgive the sins of many." Bia said she watched her loyal soldiers take one small sip each to give to the next.

She watched as the eyes of her loyal warriors glowed different colors. Though different colors, every color represented battle and courage.

They heard the sounds of footsteps and horses galloping hearing them but the villagers stood tall as the color their eyes glow now covered their body.

As King Argus' army arrived at the village, several beats went by the soldiers silently stared down at the villagers, underestimating them because they are outnumbered. Then a green orb hit the captain straight in the chest, sending him back several miles. Everyone looked in pure shock as they saw a woman in fighting stance, clearly having sent the orb. The villagers knew this woman as Adira Karlatun.

Then, brutal battle was fought. Many were lost but the casualties to the Karlatun was minimal thanks to Adira's leadership, the true damage was caused on the army. But the damage to their homes, was too much.

The surviving villagers returned to the cave and led their people to a safe haven where they can live in peace, unbothered by the tyranny of King Argus.

The magical objects shook aggressively and glowed even brighter

HOME OF THE KARLATUN

The Karlatun sought refuge in the very edge of Greece, near the Mediterranean Sea.

There, they built yet another shrine for Bia. Now, every year Bia would bless a child when they are the right age and after they are blessed, they trained how to use their new found powers to protect their god and their home.

They lived there for centuries now going by the name "Karlatun Clan" after the woman who started the battle in village meaning "free man" and settlement". And over the centuries, they have made several alliances with other clans in Earthrealm- the Taira Clan of Japan being their most prominent ally.

But... Everything went awry when King Argus' great-grest grandson, Daegon, found them once more and sought revenge.

The magical objects shook and the glass started to crack.

DESTRUCTION OF THE KARLATUN

Emperor Daegon ambushed them and managed to destroy the statue of Bia.

Many of the Karlatun were killed, mainly children and elders, but many still managed to escape Daegon's wrath. They scattered all over Earthrealm; some escaped for America and some for the Czech Republic.

THE END

(Damn, would anyone believe me if I said all that came from the top off my head?)

"Wha- that's it? Where's the rest of it?" Johnny asked as he tried looking for the rest.

That when Johnny finally noticed. The magical artifacts.

The sound of glass breaking echoed through the library. Then two flying... Somethings.. Went straight to Johnny, nearly hitting him if he hadn't dodged.

Then the objects stopped and Johnny got a clearer view of whatever the hell it is.

It was a pair of brass knuckles.

(Pretend the blue is purple)

"What the..."

"Johnny Cage," he heard something call out, "son of Karlatun, descendant of Scandinavia and Greece. You have done well for this timeline's Lord. You are worthy of my blessing."

Then, everything burned.

It felt like he was being cooked from the inside.

"AGH!" Johnny groaned and clutched his chest, suddenly memories started flashing.

Pain in his chest.

Killing a good portion of Shao's army.

Fighting Reiko and winning.

General Shao stabbing him again and snapping his neck.

Now Johnny knew.

Raphael said he had gray hair was because of an 'incident'. That 'incident' being his fucking death. His hair turned gray because it lacked melanin.

Then the brass knuckles floated closer to him, closer to his hands. And when he removed his hands from the floor, the brass knuckles inserted itself into his fingers.

Johnny felt... Powerful, renewed.

"Finally, you realize your true potential." He turned to the library's entrance and the outline of Raphael.

"When I saw you fight. I knew who you are. What you are."

"Why resurrect me?"

"Because you are too powerful to let die. Come, my sister is waiting for you. She will be the one to monitor your training."

As they walked to the exit of the temple, Meditrina had given him a black tank top to cover his scars.

"Ah, Mr. Cage! It is quite an honor to meet you."

"Like wise, Miss?..."

"Alala."

"Ms. Alala."

"Please, call me Alala. After all, we will be spending quite some time together."

"If you say so."

"Has my sister told about your situation?"

"I guess. I just found out I'm a defendant of the Karlatun Clan and Raphael said you would be training me."

"Yes, that is correct." Alala created a portal using a magic symbol. "Come along now, we have a lot to fulfill!"

[acknowledgetheabsurd]

[Today] we went down to walk a little in the forest. Ah! the right time. It was a dry cold. The air was transparent. Behind the green and golden trees, the red and a little silly globe of a good sun. Dom Juan and Feli held me, tightly between them and I was warm in heart. You were everywhere. I had not left Paris since our little walks, and in the middle of that forest path you came back fully alive in me, mobile, present, so terribly present that I was suddenly seized with an unbearable impatience at the impossibility of not being able to curl up in your arms immediately. Ah, my darling, what happiness to tell me that soon you will be here, and that I will caress your forehead, your lips, your nose! Is it possible!

At 7:15 a.m. I was at the theater and I received a young woman who came to ask me to put her in touch with you. She is a member of a company from Clermont-Ferrand, whose young dramatic director I know and hold in high regard Françoise Adam. They would like to mount The Misunderstanding for two performances, they have rehearsed it and they already have the sets. Only, it seems that you have refused them your agreement. Why did you do this? Do you really think it would be wrong to let them play it? I don't want to influence you, but they look so nice and so serious. Poor things! They sent me a huge box of snails made of chocolate. God knows what it cost them! And then, Françoise has a lot of talent! Finally, do as you wish, but if your heart is softened, if you smile at me with your beautiful, clear smile, tell me to whom I should address them and how, so that they may have the joy they are waiting for. But I don't want to influence you. 

Ah, but let's move on to your letter of Monday which I received this morning. I don't know if "my efforts to write to you are sometimes felt", but it can't be said that you are brilliant either. It's normal. Words have no meaning now. We've reached the point where we should be holding each other, without saying anything. Be patient! It will come. Let's wait a little longer with patience. From now on, you will have a little more peace around you. Finally, it will be rest, because lately it was no longer "the Spaniard reigning over his fallen house", but Madame Récamier, receiving in her living room. With the help of the sun, I hope that the taste and ease of work will return, and then everything will be saved. Breathe in Nietzsche and Delacroix and from time to time, take a glance at War and Peace. 

As for my mail, don't think that I had fun writing more than two hundred and fifty letters. I had printed cards made to which I added a few words of my own. I only wrote at length to those with whom I could not do otherwise. Marcel H[errand] called me to cheer me up. He invited me to come to his house in Montfort, specifying that he spent his nights there thinking about the vanity of life and the approach of death, and announcing to me the inevitable war for next year. I told him that I would go to see him in April, I would like to avoid suicide. My love, my life, my soul, my heart, the man of my loins, my heaven, my dearest angel, I love you tonight with the strength of life and love of twenty years and with all the hope in the world. Don't leave me. Don't go away. Don't freeze yourself. Don't harden yourself. I'm waiting for you. I'm waiting for you with my whole life on my lips.

Maria Casarès to Albert Camus, Correspondance, March 1, 1950 [#225]

[bradshawsbaby]

Honey, may I share a Rhett Abbott thought I have?? I did a short fic of this idea but I think I'm gonna edit it somewhere along the line.

Rhett x wifey!reader have a pretty sizeable brood but they've always said there's room for one more in the family.

One day it's put to the test when Rhett and wifey head out to the Rez to help Rhett's best friend Wes and his dad, Russell, with some horses that have come in and are in need of some major TLC. In return for the help, the father of Rhett's best friend gives the two of you some homemade herbal medicine to help Cecelia get over a bad bout of bronchitis.

On the way home, the two of you head into town and it's gonna get pretty cold out soon. The two of you are walking towards the Handsome Gambler to grab some food Royal ordered when a noise in the alley grabs your attention. At first you guys think it's a cat, but when Rhett looks closer, he clamps a hand over his mouth to keep from screaming.

In the alley, the two of you found a cardboard box and inside, nestled among the raggy looking bits of cloth, a tiny little baby who appeared to have been born frighteningly early. You and Rhett immediately brought the box to the police precinct about two doors down and lucky for the two of you, one of Rhett's grade school friends was one of the officers on duty.

You two immediately brought the baby to the hospital, only to discover that it was a little boy who was born frighteningly early. The baby boy was immediately put in an incubator but Rhett refused to leave the baby's side for even a minute. Even when the police and Wes's wife Nora, were taking your statements, Rhett refused to leave him.

The two of you visited every day to come and see the tiny little one, asleep in his little incubator, his face, hands and feet still a little bit wrinkly and his delicate little head covered by silky tufts of dark blonde hair. Nora, who's had her fair share of cases like this at work, even comes with Wes and her in-laws to see how the little guy is doing.

It's not long before the full details come out, you and Rhett discovering that the biological parents were arrested and are looking at a pretty lengthy jail sentence for other offenses. You, Rhett and the rest of the wolf pack, soon find yourselves fighting a very draining, very drawn out battle before the Abbotts finally become the legal, adoptive parents of Dallas Russell Abbott.

It's not long either before you and Rhett are finally able to hold Dallas outside of his incubator. When it's Rhett's turn to hold him, he's sitting shirtless in the rocker with Dallas's tiny little form cradled against his chest, under a wooly blanket to keep warm. He's so small that Rhett's big hand almost covers the little one's back completely. Rhett's nearly brought to tears when he hears the little one cry but is a little embarrassed seeing as Royal's the one taking pics on his phone, but Royal tells him it's ok.

You soon are able to bring Dallas home and his brothers and sisters all welcome him into the fold along with family friends who are his aunts and uncles. The Duttons (Yellowstone) have all come down from Montana to see the new little one because John, Royal, Thomas and Mo have been friends since the first grade. Everybody gets a chance to hold the little bean and when it's Cecelia's turn? She's in tears. You and Rhett can't believe that this tiny little baby is so loved already by his new family and you thank God every day for bringing him to the both of you.

Cut to years later when Dallas is twenty one, now a man who looks as though he could be yours and Rhett's child. Dallas is already a bullrider in his own name and is engaged to a young lady from the Rez who is also a member of the Wyoming National Guard. She's in the stands with you, Rhett and the rest of the family, cheering him on as he takes first place. You and Rhett are crying happy tears this time, for your son who really is your lucky one.

I am so sorry that this is so long honey, it was alot that I had to let out (lol).

GOSH, THIS IS SO BEAUTIFUL!!! 😭😭😭♥️♥️♥️

[helaelaemond]

50 Helaemond Kisses

day 3 - goodbye

Thirteen was too young to wed, even for a princess. Everyone said it, everyone knew it. She was still a child, like Aemond was at twelve. He didn't want her to marry Aegon. Aegon wasn't kind to her. He wasn't kind to anyone, it felt like. But if Mother had allowed them to wait, if Father had insisted, he would have wed Helaena in the tradition of their house at sixteen and given her a happy life.

"I'll miss you," he said quietly. It was almost time to go to the sept, and the carriages were being prepared in the yard. They had only a few moments left in their rooms before everything would change.

"I'm not leaving," she murmured. In her hands was a box with a great moth pinned inside, its dead wings stretched and pinned. She held it up to look at closely.

"We aren't allowed to share a bed anymore. We won't be allowed to be alone anymore."

Helaena looked at him over the box and studied him. When they were alone, he didn't wear an eyepatch because he knew how much she liked his sapphire. She wore a pretty blue dress today. Mother had wanted her in green, Father had wanted her in red. They chose her husband, and relented in allowing her to choose her own dress. She wore Dreamfyre's colours, Aemond's.

"I don't want anything to change. I won't allow it."

He smiled faintly. "You won't allow it?"

"No." She stood up and went to where he sat on the soft couch before the fireplace. It was cold and empty, the heat of summer warming the rooms plenty. "This is a Yin moth. It's found across Yi Ti. They live with their wings for only a few weeks before dying. The females wait for males to impregnate them, and then they die. Isn't that sad?"

Aemond bit his lip and sighed. "Then I am glad you are of Old Valyria, and not the jungles of the east."

"Perhaps when I'm gone, they will pin my body and put me in glass, too."

"Our bodies will be burned when we're gone, the dragonrider deaths we deserve." And our ashes shall be mingled together and cast to the wind, so that we will always fly together. Parted in life, united in death.

Helaena smiled at the boxed moth, lovely in death, and handed it to Aemond. "Keep it safe for me today?"

He nodded.

Her expression shifted, and the worry that had shrouded her for weeks returned. "Please don't leave me today."

"I'll try, but..." He trailed off, feeling a sense of helplessness. "It's going to be different, Lae."

Her head snapped to the door. "Mother." Moments later, the queen entered the chambers with maids in tow. She looked as tall as a tower, dressed in rich green and sparkling black, the gown high on her neck and headdress curving over her hair. She looked very beautiful. She did not look like them.

"The carriages are ready." Mother looked at Aemond and gave him a strained smile. "Your father is in the carriage with Daeron, and Cole is fetching Aegon."

Aemond nodded once, and turned to his sister. His beloved sister, his sweet sister. He wasn't ready for love, ready for marriage, but he wished, gods he wished, that they had been allowed to wait for each other. "May the Mother and Maiden watch over you, sister." He squeezed her hands and kissed her cheek. It felt like farewell. It was impossible to look anywhere but the floor.

Quick strides took him across the room, but before he could leave, he was halted by the call of his name.

"Aemond." Helaena's voice was strained, and when he looked at her, she was weeping. "Please don't." Don't let this happen. He could hear the words she couldn't find. The powerlessness hurt them both.

"Come along, my love," Alicent told her kindly, and when she reached for her daughter's hands, Helaena shrank away.

"Aemond," she called again, tears making her voice thick.

He turned away. Ser Arryk waited for him in the corridor outside to escort him to the groom's carriage in the outer yard. If he noticed the prince wipe away tears, he did not mention it. By the time Aemond climbed into the carriage and faced his father and younger brother, his face was hard. His father would not see him weep. His father would not care.

[snowwhitesakura]

At new years eve, in the city of Gävle, a young girl stumbles over icy pavements. Her feet are bare, and blue from the cold, and the stabbing wind of winter pierces her thin layer of clothes. She can't go home. Not like this: with not a single match sold and not a single coin to show for the day she's spent walking the cold streets of Sweden. No, she has to keep going. She has to sell her matches. At least one.

But maybe, she thinks, maybe I can use just one to warm myself. Only one, and only for a moment.

She takes a seat, she doesn't know where, and raises the match to the wall of its box.

"Who are you?" A loud voice booms inside her head. "Keep that match away from me!"

She turns around in fear and sees a giant goat of straw loom above her. It looks at her, almost as afraid of her as she is of it. This calms her down, though she can clearly understand after a moments thought that the presence of fire would be unsettling for her new, flammable companion.

"I only mean to warm myself," she reassured. "Just one match, for me, and I stay right where I am."

The goat seem hesitant, but nods.

"As long as you do not come closer, I will allow it."

She strikes the match and with a rischt it burns and lends her its warmth. It is strong, and bright, and wonderful, and she holds her hand to the flame like she would against a stove. And a stove it is to her: she sees one form in front of her with its burnished brass feet and beautiful brass ornaments. She stretches her feet to it as well, but the fire of the match reaches her fingers. Through the brief relief from the cold it gives her, it bites her and she drops the match which extinguishes in the snow.

She turns back to the goat.

"May I light another?"

There is silence, and the little match girl is afraid the giant straw creature will deny her. After all, she was barely allowed to light the first. But she is wrong.

"You may," she is told.

And so, she does. The fire returns and its warmth kisses her nose as she eyes the people passing by. A child, no older than her, walks with her father while eating gyros, skipping as the steam from it forms the spirit of the pig inside that leap through the air and let her smell it. She has never smelled anything like it. It also shows her what is inside the father's bags; a plucked goose to be filled with the apples and dried plums beside it, cooing at her that if only she still had the stove she could have cooked it for herself. The scent of the goose mixes with the pig, and as she savours the scent. A moment later she realizes she has a question to the goat of straw observing her silently.

"Who are you?"

"I am Gävlebocken," Gävlebocken answers. "And I am sorry I shouted at you when you first sat down. There are many who think it is fun to light me on fire because of how I am made, and it scares me a lot. I can see now that you are not like that."

The fire reaches her fingers once more and she drops this match as well.

"Light another," Gävlebocken ushers, and a third match is lit. A giant christmas tree, filled with electric lights, grows next to the goat. Gävlebocken looks small in comparison, and is decorated with small bells that jingle at the smallest of movement.

"Is something wrong?" The bells let out a shimmering sound as the Gävlebocken speaks, and the light from the tree shine behind her new friend like a halo.

"You're beautiful," she says with a trembling voice. "And an angel."

"And you're cold," Gävlebocken replies. "Have you not a home to go to? Have you no shoes or coat?"

"No coat," she whispers. "I got to borrow shoes from my mother, but they were too big and I lost them. And I have a home, but I can't return with no money. Father will hurt me."

As she looks into the face of Gävlebocken she can see a single star fly across the sky with its burning tail.

"Someone is just dead," she mumbles from underneath the christmas tree. "My old grandmother told me that when a star falls, a soul accends to god."

Gävlebocken hums in a somber tone.

"Someone dies every night."

The third match burns out, and the tree, the lights and the bells disappear. She grabs another. She thinks of her grandmother, who used to love her before she passed, and how she misses her radiance, and her brightness and warmth which was just like fire. She aims to strike the box again to light one more match, just one more match, but Gävlebocken stops her.

"A match alone does not warm a child. Light me, and be warm this winter."

"Light you?" The little match girl hears the words, and yet cannot understand them. "But you are afraid of the fire. It will burn you, and you will die."

"It will burn me," the goat agrees, "but I will live. When winter comes again next year, I will be here once more. Light me. Let me keep you warm, let me keep you safe, and when winter is back in one year's time you can see yourself how immortal I am."

She is eager to listen, to be free of the cold, but she remembers the bite of fire.

"Will it hurt?"

There is a gentle smile in the face of her new friend.

"Not more than the cold to you."

That settles it. She grabs the rest of the matches and light them all at once and hold them to the goat of straw, who catches on fire instantly. There is a burst of warmth against her and at once she feels alive.

This is more than a stove, this is a bonfire in May. It is the end of winter, of cold and of hurt, and it brings with it the prickling sensation of sensation back to her fingers, to her nose, to her cheeks, to her feet, to her. In the light of her friend, growing brighter and brighter, she goes from blue, to red, to herself. She is herself, and she is warm. She can see it, how the heat and the smoke wraps around her like the embrace of her grandmother - oh, how she misses her - the only one who ever loved her.

The only one until today. Her gaze is met with the gaze of her dying friend, and it is as fond, as gentle, and as warm as her grandmothers ever was. Maybe even warmer.

"Are you afraid?" she asks.

There is silence, except for the crackling of fire and the distant wailing sound of a fire truck, as Gävlebocken thinks about her question.

"No. I'm not."

When the police arrive she is certain that they will beat her, just like her father would in their position. Instead they take her to a warm room, give her a red blanket with straw goats on and a mug of hot chocolate to drink. Eventually they also give her new parents; better parents they say, but it takes a long time for her to believe it.

It feels strange at first. She doesn't have to sell matches any more. Instead, she can do all of the things she's always wanted. And she does. She goes to school. She makes friends. She finds people who love her: her new parents, her teachers, and children her age. And yet, there is one friend, her first, that she has yet to see again.

At December 1st, in the city of Gävle, a young girl and her parents watch Gävlebocken get constructed. And in the face of straw, there is a smile.

"Hello again, little match girl."

"Welcome back."

I had a dream where the goat got frostbite and went home. She is cold and we need to warm her.

the little match girl x gävlebocken??

[yieldtotemptation]

NURSE ft. Yeji

yeji x male reader smut

6k words

"God, you're so hot!"

"You too, babe"

"No, I mean you have a fever, dummy."

"A fever for your loving."

"You do know you're going to have to stay in bed all day?"

"I bet I am."

"You're an idiot."

"Achoo!"

You can see the mental debate taking place behind Yeji's eyes as she weighs the pros and cons of hitting you - a perfectly sculpted eyebrow twitches, her cupid's bow lips purse, and her nostrils flair in frustration, stretching out the cute freckle on the tip of her nose.

Instead, she decides to give up on you and your cheesy lines, and leaves your bedroom with an exasperated sigh, returning to her busywork around your apartment - preparing soup in your pressure cooker, taking care of your laundry, and cleaning the mess you've accumulated over the past few days.

If you had known that being sick meant getting spoilt by your girlfriend like this, you may have been inclined to fall ill more often.

"I really hate you sometimes," you hear Yeji mutter from outside your door.

"Love you too!" You call out back to her from the comfort of your bed. You don't catch her response, only hear her grumbling about something, followed by the sound of your washing machine’s lid being slammed shut.

"Don't think I've forgiven you!" She says, her voice trailing off as she moves through your apartment and to your kitchen. "I can't believe you weren't going to tell me you were sick! How were you even planning to take care of yourself?"

"They do delivery here…"

"I know. I saw the fried chicken boxes. This is why you get sick so easily!"

After several minutes of cleaning, cooking, and passive-aggressive vacuuming, Yeji storms back into your bedroom, an assortment of pills in one hand, a mug in the other. She takes a seat on the side of your bed and thrusts the items in your face.

"Swallow this, drink this."

You do as instructed, swallowing down the medicine, and drinking down the strange-tasting, warm liquid. You open your mouth wide to show her your empty tongue, to which she replies with a satisfied nod. "What would I do without you?"

She rolls her eyes. "Keep pushing your luck and maybe you'll find out."

You gasp in mock horror at the prospect, an act that finally manages to get Yeji to smile for the first time since she came into your apartment and discovered you sick. "You wouldn't dare."

"I would," Yeji threatens. "I leave you alone for one week! You message me acting like everything's fine the entire time and I come home to see you like this."

"It's not that bad," you say, somewhat fruitlessly trying to reason with your girlfriend. Admittedly it's when she's all flustered and frustrated that you find her the cutest.

Something about the way she puffs out her cheeks when she gets mad.

"It's just a cold."

"Fever." Yeji corrects you, emphasising her point by feeling your forehead with the back of her hand.

You reach for her, stroking her forearm apologetically. "I am sorry, Yeji. I just didn’t want to make you worry."

Yeji softens at that - no matter how mad she ever gets at you, she never finds it difficult to forgive. "If you're really sorry, you'll be a good boyfriend and rest so you can quickly get better and we can actually spend time together."

"Well," you start, "you know what would really make me feel better."

"I swear if this is another line or a dirty joke - "

"I was going to say a kiss - but I like where your mind is at," you say, and this time Yeji does hit you, albeit playfully and on your shoulder. "I mean - this is very close to one of my top ten fantasies."

"Isn't the whole sexy nurse thing a bit cliché? Why don't you just be happy to have your beautiful girlfriend taking care of you?"

"They're clichés for a reason," you say, using your eyes to gesture down to your waist.

"You've got to be kidding me." Yeji's eyes follow down your body, to the unmistakeable tent forming underneath the blanket that was currently draped over you. "Really?"

"Don't act all innocent! It's not my fault that having my beautiful girlfriend taking care of me is such a turn on!" You retort, "Besides, we both know why you really came over - before you found out I was sick."

Yeji's eyes go wide at that, and you see the Light Fury resemblance so often joked about. "I don't know what you're talking about."

It's your turn to raise an eyebrow. "Yeji."

"What?"

"Yoga pants, Yeji." You stare at the skin-tight fabric clinging to her lower body - the very first thing you noticed about her when she came barging into your apartment. The leggings left little to the imagination, and knowing Yeji they were clearly worn with calculated purpose - chosen specifically to emphasise her long, toned legs, and to show off her ridiculously firm, supple ass.

Most distinctively though, was how snugly it fit over her mound, detailing the exact outline of lips you were more than familiar with. Yeji follows your eyes and sees we're your looking, immediately blushes and shyly crossing her legs over one another to hide the all-too-obvious camel toe.

"You were practically begging me to notice."

"I came here straight from dance practice!" Yeji insists.

"And the top?"

"I don't know what you're -"

You reach for the strap of her tank-top, pulling it to the side to reveal a bare shoulder - with nothing underneath. "One would think you'd need some sort of support when dancing."

Yeji stops you, grabbing the strap from your hand and returning it to her shoulder. "Fine. You got me. You win. Happy?"

Nothing can hold back the grin that creeps onto your face. "Yeji. My extremely hot girlfriend came over to have sex with me. You bet I’m fucking happy."

Yeji takes you by the hand, and somewhat bashfully, she says, "I came over to take care of you."

Yeji slowly looks up to meet your eyes, and suddenly you feel the temperature in the room start to rise. Like a switch, you see something in Yeji change, her expression shifting from cute and shy to something closer to hunger. You know it well, you’re all too familiar with the duality of your girlfriend - cute, bubbly, caring on one side - seductive, charismatic, sexy on the other.

"And I intend to do so," Yeji says softly, her voice cutting through the sudden tension in the air.

It's the way she looks at you that's intoxicating - those damn eyes like no other - and her lips - tinged a subtle pink, with just a hint of gloss that makes her look so kissable. She runs a tongue over her lips, melting you, mesmerising you, and she leans down and presses her lips gently down onto yours.

It’s a short, quick taste, but filled with heat, and Yeji leaves her face hovering over yours after it’s ended.

"Yeji, you don't have to - " You don't get to finish your sentence, the words are stolen from your mouth, as Yeji throws the blanket off your body and sends her hand diving into your sweatpants to take hold of your cock with her soft, delicate fingers.

"Well I have been discovered... Might as well follow through with my devious master plan," Yeji says in a husky whisper. You can only reply with a groan, as her fingers wrap around your cock, straining itself, flexing impatiently against her grip.

You start to sit up, an involuntary reaction to the sudden stimulation, but Yeji places a hand on your chest and pushes you back down to the bed.

"You caught me red-handed, honey. So lie back and relax," Yeji chides, pinning you down flat on the mattress with surprising strength. Your mouth opens to answer, but no words come out, only a raspy moan as Yeji's hand begins to move around you, easily stirring your cock to a full, throbbing hardness. "How about we cross this fantasy off your list?"

She watches you intently with her fox-like eyes, looking down on you with glee, drinking in your strained reactions to her slow, methodical stroking of your cock.

She can't cover your entire length within the restrictions of your sweatpants, but she still takes care to vary her grip with each pump of your cock into her hand - tightening her grasp each time she reaches the hilt, and relaxing her hold as she makes her way back to your tip - each time sending sweet, agonising tingles running up your spine.

"That's right - be a good patient now. Let the sexy nurse take care of you."

Your hips buck against her hand, desperately stretching out the cotton of your pants, needing freedom, needing more from her. Yet Yeji doesn't seem to care, applying even more pressure to her hand on your chest, reasserting her control over you, tightening her hold around your cock and squeezing you into submission.

"Calm down, honey," Yeji says, leaning back down to take your lips once more.

It's now that you get your first real taste of Yeji - fresh strawberry-scented hair, sweet candy-flavoured lips. She moans into your mouth, like a secret passcode that causes your lips to part and allow her tongue to enter, finding its dance partner within. Her hand never stops moving around you, up and down, up and down - a slow, purposeful motion in time with the presses of her lips against yours and the clashing of your tongues.

Her hand slides up your cock as her lips leave your own and you can't help the groan that follows when your kiss ends, nor can you help your tongue desperately chasing after her. Yeji laughs to herself, once again pushing you back down to your bed, keeping you in your rightful place.

A stray strand of saliva hangs from the corner of her mouth, but it's quickly scooped up by her tongue as she licks her lips, covering it in a new, glossy sheen.

"Now, why don't you tell me where it hurts?" Yeji asks, and your eyes immediately flick down to your now throbbing erection. "Oh, that does look painful, doesn't it? Luckily I know how to make you feel all better."

Yeji bends forward and slides down your body, allowing you, for the briefest moment, to catch a glimpse of cleavage hidden underneath. She stops at your waist, parting your legs so she can take her place on all fours between them, sitting back on her heels and reaching for your hips, digging her fingers into the elastic waistband of you sweatpants.

Yeji lifts her gaze to meet yours, eyes alight with mischief and her lips upturned into a wide grin, as if reacting to a joke that only she was privy to. Knowing she has you watching her, she closes her eyes, moves in close to your crotch, and presses her nose to the swell of your cock beneath your sweatpants.

And then she inhales.

She breathes in your cock, like an addict in withdrawal getting their first fix, savouring the feeling of being so close to her one true vice.

She spends several tormenting moments like that, ignoring your futile efforts to flex your cock against the stretch of cotton, trying to feel the warmth of her lips. Eventually, thankfully, she lifts her head slightly and in one, clean motion, yanks your sweatpants down your hips and sends your cock springing forth with such force that it slaps against her lovely, pink lips.

"Oh!" Yeji yelps as the tip of your cock, already leaking in anticipation, brushes across her lips. "I should've been more honest from the start…"

It's already too much, just her hot breaths against your tip has you mentally screaming for more, and it's with sweet, torturous relief that her lips finally meet your cock in a gentle, loving kiss. The brief and sudden contact shoots a jolt of electricity through your nerve endings, and the pleasure continues as Yeji holds your cock steady with her right hand and leaves a trail of kisses down the length of your shaft.

She takes care to cover as much ground as she can, kissing all around your shaft, down to the underside, and over and around both your balls. She keeps kissing, never letting her lips linger for too long, until she stops at the base of your cock. It's then that she lets her tongue slip out of her mouth to explore the hilt of your cock, before slowly dragging it all the way up the length of your shaft. You grit your teeth as her pink tongue makes the long journey up your shaft to meet the small ridge beneath the head of your cock, where she marks her territory with her saliva, tracing around the circumference of your length.

"This taste," Yeji says to herself as she runs the very tip of her tongue over the slit of your head, lapping up the pre-cum waiting for her. Her tongue withdraws back into her mouth and she swallows, humming in pleasure as she tastes your arousal, before breathing out a satisfied "ahhh!"

Above all else - Yeji loves to put on a show for you. She gets pleasure from driving you wild, yet you don't get to revel in the theatrics of seeing her so taken with the flavour of your cock. You don't even get to think about anything other than the feeling of Yeji's soft, wet lips sealing themselves around your length, taking your shaft inch by inch into the warmth of her mouth.

Getting such relief never felt this good, and you chance reaching down for her, needing to grab onto something - anything - threading your fingers through her fawn-coloured hair, taking a gentle hold of her head as you try to last through the distinct pleasure of your cock disappearing into the idol's mouth.

Yeji inhales you in, pressing her tongue flat against your cock, bathing your length with her saliva, as she steadily takes more and more of you past her lips. It's with a gasp that you feel her lips meet the base of your cock, kissing against your crotch, pressing her nose just beneath your navel, and while she doesn't choke, let alone gag, she does let her throat clench around you in a manner so excruciatingly good, you can't help but cry out - "Yeji!"

The sound of her name is like a cue for her, and she pulls back from you, drawing her head up and letting your shaft slip slowly out of her mouth and past the clutching hold of her lips with an audible 'pop'.

Yeji looks up at you, still smiling wide, her beautiful face still in near-perfect order - save for the drool leaking from her lips and onto your tip, and the small trace of moisture welling up in the corner of her eyes. For someone that loved to get so messy with your cock, she never let it get in the way of the perfection that was her face.

She takes a beat to nuzzle her cheek into the palm of your hand, before once again taking your cock back into the pillowy embrace of her lips. She pulls you into her with a slow pace, building up a steady rhythm of bobs up and down your cock, giving you time to savour both the sight and feeling of having an idol take you in and out of her warm, wet mouth.

Her hands join in the fray - she only takes your length a quarter of the way into her mouth, allowing her right hand to wrap around the base of your cock, giving short, twisting strokes around the hilt, matching the timing and movements of her lips. Her left hand reaches beneath you, cradling your balls in the palm of her hand, massaging the pair with her fingers - making sure that all your cock knows is Yeji.

Seconds, minutes, hours - you have all the time in the world for Yeji and her expert mouth, as she continues to work your shaft, taking care to swirl her tongue over and around the head of your cock each time she reaches the tip with her lips.

It's the combination of it all that makes it all so sublime - her hands working on your shaft and your balls, her tongue lathering your cockhead in its wetness, her lips suctioning tight around you and swallowing you whole down her clenching throat. It wasn't just that Yeji was skilled at oral sex, she was skilled specifically at giving you oral sex, knowing your weak spots, knowing how best use her fingers, her mouth, her eyes - it's impossible to imagine anyone matching her in the specific art of making you feel good.

You close your eyes, trying your best to remember to breathe as Yeji's hands leave your cock and move to your thighs, gripping into your legs as she lowers her face onto you, and reintroduces your cock to the back of her throat. She deepthroats you with intent, sliding you smoothly down her throat, noisily slurping you into her, leaving a mess around your crotch as she bathes your cock in her spit and slobber.

You're incredibly unprepared - left to groan as she starts to fuck her own face with your cock, diving her mouth up and down on to you, barely letting your tip brush against her lips before plunging it back deep down her throat, trapping you in a dizzying spiral of pleasure.

You can feel yourself, the familiar build of anticipation from your core, the build-up of release, and you know that Yeji's mouth has you at the very precipice of your orgasm.

"Yeji, it's too -" Your voice comes out hoarse and weak, the first actual words you’ve managed to form since Yeji started throating your cock, and it's then that Yeji decides to give you some respite, withdrawing her lips from you with a particularly harsh suck, and letting your glistening shaft spring free from her mouth.

The air is forced from your lungs as your cock is left twitching helplessly in the open and under Yeji's watchful eyes. She roughly takes your cock into her hands, squeezing it in a chokehold, holding your shaft still and stopping you from cumming far sooner than she desired.

Satisfied that your orgasm has been avoided, Yeji tests you with a chaste kiss right on your tip, giggling to herself as your cock reflexively spasms in response.

"Not yet," she says in a soft voice, gently placing more dainty, light kisses down your shaft, dipping her head lower and lower, low enough so she can press her lips against your balls with a firm kiss.

Her hand still remains on your cock, moving slowly, pumping up and down your shaft, testing your resolve and your self-control, watching as you helplessly lie there and let her have her way with you.

"Seems like you're feeling better already," Yeji smirks to herself, leaving your cock with a light kiss on its tip and a cursory squeeze around its base. "So it's only fair if you help me feel better too."

Yeji kisses her way along your balls and to the base of your cock, and then takes hold of the hem of your t-shirt, lifting it up so she can kiss into your abs. She rolls your shirt higher and higher as she moves upwards, making the most of your body while she has you still - kissing right up the centre of your chest, taking a slight detour to playfully sink her teeth into your nipple, to licking the ridge of your collarbone, before raising your arms above your head so she could throw off the unneeded item of clothing.

She takes hold of both your wrists while she has you, and while even in your current state it would be so easy to overpower the athletic idol, you know better than to get in Yeji's way when she's like this. Most times she played passive in the bedroom, more than happy to be led around - to be used, to be pleasured, to be fucked - but there were times when nothing could make her more aroused than getting to be the one on top.

She licks up the side of your neck, tracing a path up to the edge of your jawline and down to your chin, before moving to your lips to claim them as her own. She holds you down with the weight of her body - her legs straddling on either side of your waist, her hands keeping your arms pinned above your head, and her lips crushing against yours in a needy, hungry kiss, invading your mouth with her tongue. Your kiss becomes another stage for her to wrestle control over you, and you submit to her, letting her freely explore your mouth with her tongue.

It's now that Yeji begins to grind herself against your cock, backing her ass down low enough to run the length of your shaft between the lips of her pussy, separated only by the sheer fabric of her tight, black leggings. Her moans mix with your own forced groans as her hips rotate around and back and forth against you. Even through her yoga pants you can feel her wetness, can feel her warm juices soaking through the cotton and dripping onto your cock.

Yeji breaks your kiss to whisper into your ear, "God, I missed this."

"No Gods," you manage to grunt out, finding your own voice despite the motions of her hips against you, "just me."

Yeji bites your earlobe in response and grinds her hips harder against your cock, pressing her folds down against you, letting you feel the full heat of her pussy on you. "Tell me, t-tell me how much you like this. Tell me how much you want this - how much you want me."

"Yeji," you gasp, "I fucking need you."

"Good."

Yeji lifts herself off you, letting go of her hold on your wrists and raising herself up on her knees, stretching herself above you, purposefully putting her perfect, tight, fit body on display for you. Her hips hover so tantalisingly close over your cock, and from your vantage point you can see the mould of her swollen folds through her pants and the patch of wetness that has pooled around her crotch and run down her thighs. Her tank-top is crumpled and in slight disarray - the straps are down to her shoulders, yet the top is still kept upright by the stiffness of her nipples poking out through the fabric.

She rolls a hairband off her wrist, reaching behind her head to tie her hair into a neat ponytail. "Ready?"

You nod.

Yeji wastes no time - she digs her fingers into the crotch of her pants and rips apart the fabric on either side, tearing open a hole and freeing her wet, slick pussy. She takes a hold of your cock, aiming it with well-practiced precision at her entrance, and slides her hips down, sinking you inside her tightness and filling her pussy with you.

"Fuuuuuck yes!" Yeji sighs, hands at the back of her head, elbows pointed upwards, back arched and chest pushed out, her whole body relishing in the feeling of having you inside of her.

You instinctively react by reaching out for her, needing to hold onto her tight body, to maybe even rip the thin tank-top from her chest and claim a nipple with your lips, but Yeji is far too quick, falling back forward and capturing your wrists again, pinning you down against the mattress beneath her.

"No," she says, "don't move. I told you - let me take care of you."

You know what she really means, what she really wants - to use you, but if using you means lying back and witnessing the embodiment of sex that is your girlfriend fuck herself on your cock, then you're all too willing to let her have her way.

At least, for now.

Yeji closes her eyes, satisfied that she has you in place, and bites her lip as she begins to move atop you, devoting each and every muscle in her tight, dancer's body to fucking herself with your hard cock, rolling her hips up and down you in practiced, deliberate movements.

She rides you at the pace suited best for her, making the most of your every inch entering and exiting her pussy, taking time to grind herself against your waist each time your hips meet, rolling forward and leaving her shuddering with pleasure. She's so, so wet around you, you can feel the warm residue from her cunt coating your entire length, can hear the squish of her folds as her pussy moulds herself around you, stretching to accommodate your girth with each upstroke.

"God - gah - you feel -" Yeji moans, searching for the words that best describe just how good you're making her feel, eventually landing on, "so fucking big inside of me!"

You do your best to outlast her, gritting your teeth, trying hard not to lose yourself in the flexing of her walls around you, the hot wetness pooling around your base, and the lovely sounds of your name as they slip from her pretty lips and into your ears.

Yeji giggles at the pained expression on your face, at your efforts to tame your own arousal, and decides to lay a challenge on you, letting go of your wrists and stretching back upright so that she can unceremoniously lift the tank-top over her head and toss it beside the bed.

You immediately drink in the sight of her small chest - perfectly bite-size and round, capped with cute, stiff tips that makes you think of caramel candies, begging to be sampled and tasted.

"You like how I take care of you, don't you, honey?" Yeji asks. "Like how I ride you? Like how I fuck myself so hard onto your big, fucking cock?"

Your attention is torn away from her chest as Yeji adjusts her position, moving from her knees to her feet, crouching low and grabbing hold of your shoulders, bracing herself and giving herself enough leverage to unexpectedly, quickly, slam her hips down on you, taking you into her at a sudden, rapid pace.

"Yes!" Yeji cries out as the tempo of your fucking shifts into full gear, taking you in and out of her as fast as she is able, now fully abandoning the idea of 'taking care of you' and unashamedly using every inch of your cock for her pleasure.

It's pure art - watching Yeji's tight body bounce up and down on your cock is hypnotic - each thrust into her needy pussy makes her every muscle tense, her walls clench, sends her nipples flickering up and down, entrancing you with their tiny heft. Yeji takes your wrist, pulling you towards her chest, placing her hand over yours and pressing your palm into her right breast, squeezing your fingers into the soft flesh.

You take her left breast with your other hand, indulging in the feeling of her nipples between your fingertips, loving the squeals of delight you can elicit from Yeji's open mouth with each pinch of sensitive skin.

You lose track of the minutes that pass as Yeji fucks you at a fierce, intense speed, lose yourself in the feeling of her body on top of you, her ass slapping down against your cock with each hard thrust, her gasps and moans filling your ears.

"Oh god - oh god - yes - as hard as you - " Yeji's words barely make sense, each moan and sigh abandoned just as quickly as another one overtakes her. "Please - yes - I missed this, needed this - fuh - fuck!"

You know what she wants - know what she needs - and you take advantage of her momentary lapse in composure, wrapping your arms against her lower-back and pulling her down to you, pressing her body flat against yours. She lets you take her, to hold her tightly against you, giving over control of the fucking to you.

You quickly find your rhythm, pumping in and out of Yeji's sopping wet cunt, using her meek mewls and moans into your ear as a guide to perfect the timing of your thrusts.

Her walls hug you tight as you impale her with your cock, pistoning in and out of her, mercilessly slamming your hips against hers. The bed starts to squeak under you in protest to your fucking, joining in with Yeji’s cries of ecstasy.

You want to freeze this moment in time, want to fuck her like this forever - to feel her ever increasing tightness around your cock, to hear the melody of her gasps and moans, to have her so close to you - stiff nipples pressed against your chest, hot lips against your skin, warm body-heat at your fingertips.

"Honey - ho - ney - fuh - fuck - fuck me!" Yeji's cries reverberate through your eardrums, her body uncontrollably shaking and quivering in your arms as you do your best to fuck out of her the orgasm she so desperately desired. "Yes! Make me - make me - fucking - ah!"

Yeji's orgasm takes both of you by the surprise, arriving like a bolt of lightning, causing her entire body to tense and making her pussy tighten deliciously around you. It's almost far, far too much for you, driving you close to the brink of your own bliss, her pussy pulsating and squeezing around you, doing its best to pump out the cum Yeji so badly wants to be filled with.

But instead you hold her still against you, letting her tight, lithe body quiver and tremble in your arms, sinking the entirety of your cock into her and feeling the powerful vibration of her orgasm throughout her body.

The filthy whispers from her mouth continue the entire time she rides out her orgasm onto you, soon rendering her so breathless that she buries her lips into your neck, breathing unintelligible noises of pleasure into your skin.

You give her the time to collect herself, letting her body rest against yours as her hold on you weakens - the strength in her limbs give out and she goes limp in your arms. Several minutes filled with nothing but panting breaths go by - her pussy sporadically twitches and quivers around your cock, still buried deep inside of her.

You kiss her forehead, tasting the saltiness of the sweat that now covers her flushed face - so hot that you would think she's the one with the fever.

Soon, her breathing stabilises, and she makes the effort to lazily kiss your cheek and whisper in your ear, "use me."

Her words are all you need, and slowly, you shift your hips downwards, sliding Yeji far enough up the length of your cock, priming yourself for the perfect angle to drive your cock right back inside her with a firm thrust.

"Ummmph!" Yeji moans into your neck as you resume fucking her in earnest.

It had taken all your self-control to hold back from joining her before - her pussy far too hot, far too wet. But now all that wetness, all that heat, just made her pussy even more perfect - easily sliding you in and out of her, allowing you to fuck her with strong, hard strokes.

You can feel the hard thumping of her heart against your chest as you recklessly thrust in and out of her, not giving her a chance to adjust, chasing after the pleasure promised by her hot, tight body.

"Yes, honey," Yeji moans into your ear, "use me - use my body to feel better."

You find the perfect angle to fuck Yeji, ensuring every thrust maximises the depths you could reach inside her hot, clenching pussy. You're purely focused on your own pleasure, roughly fucking upwards into her tight, hard body - overindulging in her pussy the same way she had wildly fucked herself on your cock before.

Still, despite your lack of care for her comfort or her pleasure, she still moans, still cries out your name, still pleads for more.

"Fuck me," is the only thing Yeji can think to say now, the only words able to be formed from her lust-addled brain, "fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!"

It's those words, the whining of your bed-frame, and the sounds of your hips meeting and your cock pumping into her slick, hot pussy that echo through your bedroom as you find yourself hurtling towards your own orgasm.

Yeji completely gives herself over to you, lets her body be freely fucked, gives you her cunt to be driven in and out of as hard and fast as you can possibly manage. It's impossible to last any longer frantically fucking Yeji's perfect body like this - she tightens and pulses around you, trembles in your grasp, and you can do nothing but keep thrusting.

"Yeji, I'm gonna - "

"Cum?"

"Yes! Where - "

Yeji springs to life - she breaks out of your grasps and slides off your cock and back down to your waist. Barely a second passes between your shaft slipping out of her pussy and her lips sealing around the head of your cock, trading the pleasure of one warm hole for another.

Your hands follow her, helpless to do much else but grab locks of silky hair as Yeji takes hold of your cock and begins fiercely stroking your length up and down and into her mouth. Her cheeks hollow as her lips suck you in hard, her hands twist and pump at an unbearably rapid pace, and her tongue swirls around the tip of your cock, as she dedicates herself to milking you dry.

And then Yeji's eyes snap upwards, pinning you with her gaze - needing you to cum, begging you to let go and give yourself over to the pleasure of her.

She overwhelms you - forcing a strained, deep groan out of your throat as your cock pulses in her tight grasp and the first ropes of thick, hot cum fires into the back of Yeji's warm, welcoming mouth. Each shot is answered with a low, lustful moan around your shaft, causing her lips to vibrate against your tip, adding to the overload of sensation stemming from your cock and flowing through your body.

Yeji keeps stroking you, keeps squeezing you through the dying embers of your orgasm, her throat flexing and swallowing down each successive shot of warm, white semen.

Not a single drop goes to waste - nothing slips past the tight seal of her lips - and through it all you can feel her tongue lapping up against your slit, licking up all the cum you have to offer.

Yeji doesn't let up, keeping your cock in the grasp of her lips and her hands until you start to go soft in her mouth and your shaft slips out past the suction of her lips on its own. When she's finally done, Yeji smacks her lips in satisfaction and performatively opens her mouth wide, rolling out her tongue to show her empty mouth, having hungrily swallowed down all your cum.

"Was that everything you fantasied?" Yeji asks, licking her lips, savouring the lingering taste of you in her mouth.

"Fuck," is all you say, only now being able to catch your breath and find your voice. "If that won't cure me, I don't know what will."

Yeji smiles at that, giving the exposed tip of your cock a final kiss before resting her head against your thigh. She lazily runs her fingers over your softening cock, all the while staring lovingly up at you. A thought seems to occur to her, as her eyebrows raise, and her lips open slightly, as if she's about to say something important.

"What?"

"Nothing," Yeji replies. "Just…"

You look down at your girlfriend, attempting to analyse the mysterious expression on her face, watching as her face furrows in deep concentration and her mouth opens to say -

"Achoo!"

[natashxromanovf]

I posted 3,239 times in 2022

1,488 posts created (46%)

1,751 posts reblogged (54%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@natashxromanovf

@mirclealignr

@pregnant-piggy

@velvetcloxds

@annab-nana

I tagged 2,872 of my posts in 2022

Only 11% of my posts had no tags

#ask box - 570 posts

#taja talks - 565 posts

#💎; fic rec - 235 posts

#queue our savior - 191 posts

#tw caps - 183 posts

#taja studies - 148 posts

#self reblog - 130 posts

#stranger things - 116 posts

#criminal minds - 101 posts

#ask games - 72 posts

Longest Tag: 138 characters

#wouldn’t it just be easier if we could simply walk up to someone and say i like you and if they say no okay whatever i’m moving on with my

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

okay but looking after oliver and warming him up after he was practicing in the rain

is that not the cutest thing ever

i’m just imagining his wet hair and melting aw he’s so cute

jess. i can't. this- this request. just- just imagine. oh my god 😍

"oliver?" you ask as you hear somebody enter your dorm room, not expecting anybody since your roomates are studying in the library.

"yeah, it's me," he annaounces and a second later, his head appears in your line of vision. as soon as you take him all in, you see his shaking form, his drenched quidditch ropes.

"were you training in the rain again?" you ask, a little concerned but mostly amused.

"...maybe," he responds, quickly running to the bathroom so he doesn't get the whole room wet.

"did you drag your poor teammates with you too?" you ask, already feeling bad for the boys. yes, you like that oliver is so passionate about something but sometimes, he just crosses the line.

"maybe," he repeats his previous answer, you closing your eyes momentarilly.

"oh, ollie," you sigh, just as he comes out of the bathroom. without missing a beat he colapses on the bed, his head landind near your shoulder. you lightly touch his cheek, checking if he maybe, possibly caught a cold. "oh, merlin, you're freezing!" you exclaim, putting down your book and wraping your arms around him, pulling him closer. "saints, oliver, how long were you out there?" you ask, now really worried about his health.

"two hours," he quietly confesses, your eyes widening. "but i let the boys go after one!"

"yeah, but still! two hours, do you know how cold it is outside? it may not be winter anymore but spring has just begun!" you whisper-yell, quickly wrapping the sheets around him. "and your hair is still wet," you comment, getting up to get a towel. "although you look adorable with wet hair, you're going to get sick if we don't dry it at least a little," you say from the bathroom, returning back to bed right after. this boy is going to be the death of himself one day.

271 notes - Posted July 14, 2022

#4

Magical Tea

JJ Maybank x gn!reader

Word count: 569

Warnings: mentions of liquid, mentions of being touch starved, not proofread

A/N: thank you for requesting! i apologise i'm late with this request but i hope you like it nonetheless <;33

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281 notes - Posted January 20, 2022

#3

The Accident

Spencer Reid x paramedic!fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 1677

WARNINGS: a lot of dialogue (as always), mentions of a crash, mentions of a hospital, swearing

REQUESTED: no, hurt/comfort

SUMMARY: When an accident occurs, Spencer is worried out of his mind not knowing if something bad happened to you.

A/N: finally kinda done with requests, so i can write some of my ideas. this is a crossover between the show's criminal minds and chicago fire, but it’s not very relevant to the story. it’s more leaning against criminal minds (obviously, it's spencer) and it’s not chicago fire anymore cause it’s happening in quantico😂 gif credits to @toyboxboy

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291 notes - Posted March 1, 2022

#2

🦋 wearing spender reid’s cardigan to work <3

i love this so much oml

"Looking good, Y/N," JJ winks at you, a smirk on her lips. You thank her with a roll of your eyes, knowing damn well she was talking about your boyfriend's cardigan. You knew what wearing it to work meant but it looked so comfortable and warm, you just had to wear it.

"Damn, Y/N," Morgan whistles as you pass him, sitting down behind your desk. You ignore him, instead going straight to the files waiting on you. It's not a minute that goes by before Spencer enters the bullpen, sitting down across from you.

"Y/N? Is- is that my cardigan?" the doctor asks once he notices what you're wearing, a surprised look on his face.

"Yes, I borrowed it, I'm sorry if it bothers you," you quickly explain, just as a big grin starts to spread across Spencer's lips.

"No, I don't mind at all, darling," he mutters, same expression appearing on your face.

"Okay then," you say, turning back to the paperwork. He steals once last glance before going back to work, a smirk replacing the previpus smile.

come join my celebration <;33

322 notes - Posted March 8, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Exhausted

Aaron Hotchner x nanny!fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 1973

WARNINGS: age gap 

REQUESTED: /, kinda friends to lovers, fluff

SUMMARY: After spending a day with Jack and Aaron, you're too tired to make it home. 

A/N: thank you so much for the idea @velvetcloxds! i loved it so much, I just had to write it. there’s an OC in there, named laura (based on @oliverwoodmarrymepls), just a heads up :) also Hayley didn’t die in this! gif credits to @shyhotch

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385 notes - Posted June 2, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[imagines-hoarder]

House Warming - Bucky Barnes

Summary: Hopping through some standout moments in making Bucky's apartment a place worth coming home to. (This definitely could have been a headcanon but I refuse to do headcanons at this time.)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word count: 2.6 k

Warnings: fluff with a lil angst

A/N: I have finished all the assignments left for my degree and decided to sit down and write today. This is probably trash but idc because it has been written and therefore I may as well release it. It's been a while since I've written and years since I've truly tried dipping my foot into a different fandom, but I figured I'd give it ago. Please don't forget to leave comments, I love interacting with y'all. Thank you @bwbatta​ for the dividers! xoxox

Masterlist

It all started with a damn candle. A ‘sandalwood & vanilla orchid’ candle tucked away in a reused cyan jar.

“I found it at the art market down the street last weekend,” you said as you placed it in the corner of the living room window. “You know we have to support local business.”

“And I shouldn’t assume this is your way of telling me my place smells, right?” Bucky quipped from the kitchen island, a cup of coffee in his hand and a lazy smile on his face. He’d just gotten back from a 12-day mission with Sam, and the last thing he had on his to-do list was to buy candles.

The smile grew firmer as you put yourself into his arms. “Complete opposite, actually. I bought it cause I thought it smelled just like you.” You hid your face within his chest, and he thanked the stars that you couldn’t see the warmth rising in his cheeks. His barren apartment felt a little bigger with a candle in the windowsill.

From there it became decorative pillows… and a couch to hold them. The small living room had quickly become a mess by the time you both had brought it up to his fourth-floor apartment, furniture wrap and packing peanuts strewn everywhere.

“I still don’t know why you needed to buy a sofa this big,” Bucky grumbled as he leaned over the back of the beige three-seater, looking down at your splayed out across its cushions.

“Don’t get me wrong, babe. I love the transient bachelor look you’ve got going on here, but you need more furniture than an armchair,” you mumbled between heavy breaths as you tried to regain control from maneuvering the couch into the apartment.

“And the pillows?” A laugh fell from your lips as you watched him look at the indigo cushions with a remarkable amount of disdain. Who buys pillows made just to look nice on a couch?

“They add character.”

“I didn’t think character was an area we were lacking in. Transient bachelor, remember?” He walked around the couch and shifted you over so he could lay beside you. You instinctively curled into him as you both closed your eyes. For a second the place felt like home. “I also don't know how you plan for us both to fit on this couch every day along with the pillows.”

“Don’t worry about it,” You looked up from his chest with a mischievous glint that made his heart skip. “It’s a pullout bed too. I’m sure it’ll be firm enough even for you.”

The home improvements didn’t stop there, but Bucky refused to admit how much he enjoyed them.

He liked having a place and person to come home to. After you had bought neutral bedding for his room, you’d spent an evening putting together ‘his and hers’ trestle bookcases for either side of the bed. He’d try to keep up his crabbish demeanor as you argued that ‘you needed a place to set your books for when you slept over,’ and a side table could no longer contain the small collection you had spilling over. Even still, he couldn’t find it in himself to banter much about the minor changes you made to make the place feel lived in.

And God, did he love living with you around. Between missions, his continued therapy, and trying to find his place in a world that had tripled in opportunity since his youth, he knew that he never had to question who he was and where he fit in when he walked through that door. You still occasionally slept at your own apartment when he was away, but he could always count on you being asleep in his bed by the time he came home.

One toothbrush in a glass became two, and from there, hand creams, face masks, and cotton pads cluttered the bathroom counter, packed away in their clear containers. You had made sure to keep lavender bath salts on hand for the late-night baths you took together when he woke up in a panic, unable to close his eyes again for fear of falling back into a nightmare.

It took time and working through plenty of hesitation before Bucky could progress from sleeping on the pull-out sofa to the bed, but ever since, you found your nights attended by restlessness whenever you weren’t wrapped in his arms.

Once your lease was up and you had a lengthy conversation about your inability to rest without him, you quickly filled the apartment with brown boxes. Bucky had been no less than astounded by how much you fit into them. From then on, no nook or cranny was without a vase or shelf.

“How many mugs does one house need,” Bucky asked skeptically while he continued to carefully pull them from their paper wrappings.

“Oh, come on! They’re fun!” You exclaimed, wrapping an arm around his waist as you took the Charlie Brown mug from his metal palm. “Plus, we go through enough coffee around here to justify some extra mugs.”

After you put the mug into the lowest shelf of the cabinet, you busied yourself with filing away the spices one cabinet over. No matter how much he tried, Bucky couldn’t pull his eyes away from you, lost in your own world as you chipped away at unpacking your belongings, making yours his, and vice versa. The domesticity in the little things you did was something he could get used to, and he wanted to return the feeling of normalcy as much as he could. He was far from the average boyfriend, but you remind him that could be a good thing. You never wanted to be average, but in these small moments, as you both did what normal couples do, he felt that he could create a new normal with you.

“So your Christmas gift came in already, and it’s too big to hide.” Your awkward tone carried over the phone as he exited a station ten minutes away from the apartment. Even though his neck ached and the cold nipped at the top of his ears, he couldn’t stop himself from releasing a breathy laugh.

“I thought you said you were good at this gift-giving thing, doll,” he teased you as he maneuvered his way to your shared apartment.

“Oh, don’t you fret, baby. I am the best gift-giver in all of New York City. I just slightly miscalculated how big this thing was and have realized it won’t fit into our closet.”

He tsked with a smirk on his face. “If you say so.”

“Hey, you gave me my Christmas gift a week ago.”

“Yeah, that’s because I didn’t know if I’d be back before Christmas.”

“Well, you will be, and I’m glad you are,” your voice softened lovingly as he pulled out his keys to the front of the building.

Bucky had gotten used to your love, but he’d vow to never take it for granted. All the pain he’d endured had somehow led him to you, the person who didn’t see his broken pieces as a burden or a project but as a potential to be whatever he desired.

When he hung up the call and unlocked the apartment, his brows furrowed into one; the apartment was pitch black. It was only when he heard your soft footstep walking towards the entrance that his face relaxed.

Before he could even kiss you, you had your palms firmly placed over his eyes. “No peeking; your gift is in the living room.”

The uncertainty in what you could have got him made his stomach clench. “Is it an animal?”

You slowly dragged him through the front hallway, making sure to avoid crashing into the entryway storage table. “I’m sorry to say it’s not alive.”

“Is it a nice welcome-home spread with candles, fruit, and the pullout bed all set up?”

He could feel your eyes roll to completion. “Easy there, sergeant. That’s for later.” You pulled him down to sit on the couch, and he kept his eyes closed as you pulled your palms away, moving to turn on a lamp. “Okay, Buck. open up.”

When he opened his eyes, it took him a moment to understand what he was seeing nestled against the wall; when he did recognize it, he could only form two words “Holy shit.”

“Holy shit indeed.”

He was quick to stand up and cross the room, eager to get a good look at the walnut centerpiece. “Does it work?”

You scoffed as you moved to kiss his cheek. “What kind of girlfriend would get her ancient boyfriend a broken phonograph console?”

He didn’t even attempt to answer as he bent down to wrap his arms around you, his lips eager to find yours. “A fucking Magnavox radio and phonograph,” he mumbled against your lips.

“A working Magnavox radio and phonograph, you mean.” When you pulled away and saw that his face held a glow reserved only for special occasions, you knew you had made the right choice. “I’ve got some records wrapped up if you want to open those now too.”

You yelped in surprise as he picked you up and made his way towards your bedroom. “I’ve got something else I’d like to unwrap first.”

Bucky Barnes had grown up in a period when the average family could seldom afford nice things or much of anything at all. The Great Depression has resulted in the slogan ‘Make it do or Do without,” being ingrained into what memories he still had, and 'doing without' had become commonplace for the Barnes household.

That’s why every gadget and gizmo you added to your household left him in awe. For much of his life, including the decades he spent as a weapon for Hydra, he hadn’t been allowed to call anything his own; he was still getting used to living so plentifully, both in love and in life. But now, he could barely move and he thought it had all been taken away from him.

The attack was supposed to have been contained, at least three miles away from the apartment. Anything less, and he would have made you visit your family upstate instead of just suggesting it. By the time Sam had told him that there’d been some confirmed damage within a block of the apartment, Bucky was already on his way home. He couldn’t think of anything but the worse: you trapped in a collapsing apartment building or pulling up to find no building there at all.

He felt his lungs fill with air again as he pulled up to your building, completely intact regardless of the severe damage less than a five-minute walk away. It felt like both seconds and hours between when he parked his outside and unlocked the front door.

“He doesn’t have his phone on him, mom. How am I supposed to…” you trailed off from your call as he walked into the living room, turning your head away from the Breaking News report you’d been glued to for the last hour. “Wait, I’ll call you back. Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll call you back.” Your eyes never left his as he walked over to you, hanging up the phone with worry in your eyes. “Buck, are you oka-”

You couldn’t even finish your sentence before he pulled you off of the couch and into his arms. His grip was less reserved than he usually kept, but he made sure not to hurt you, eager to keep you in his arms, where he knew you were safe. A single tear fell from the corner of his eyes as he realized the real possibility that he could have lost you if you lived even 5 minutes closer to the attack. You stayed like that for a while, gathered tightly in his arms as you both settled onto the floor You didn’t push him to verbalize his fear; you already understood it. And it took this occurrence for him to realize he never wanted to experience this feeling again.

Bucky was quiet for the rest of the evening, and while it worried you, his fear had been evident enough not to require questioning. The city-wide cleanup had lasted all hours of the night; for the first time in all the years you had lived in the city, the sounds of the whirring of vehicles clearing debris off the street had been too close to ignore. The sun was rising before a single word was said between you and Bucky, tangled together on the sofa as the first ray of light made itself known.

“You’ve spent so much time piecing this place together, doll.” His voice was raspy. You know he hates when you see him cry, but his pain was always evident in his voice. “And it could have been all wiped away in seconds.” You let a heavy silence settle between you as you traced a pattern into his shoulder. He couldn’t bear to say it, but you knew what he meant: You could have been gone within seconds. “I just… I don’t ever want to feel like this again.”

You’d both gone through so much to make your relationship work. Nearly normal was as close as you would ever attain to being an average couple. The distance, the days without contact, and the ever-present fear that anything could pull you away from one another was something that had taken time to work through.

You looked around the living room and saw the place you had built together. There were photos and books scattered on any flat surface, a leftover mug half-filled with cold tea, and a record left out on the phonograph. The apartment looked like what love felt like; a messy combination of everything you and Bucky. But this apartment could not contain everything that ‘home’ was; only Bucky could do that.

The words fell from your mouth before you could restrain them. “Maybe we should move.”

Your eyes found each other, and you both sat in silence, though it felt lighter, invigorated with the new proposition.

Before he even responded, you could see tension dissolve from his shoulders. “Where do you want to move?”

You hadn’t thought that far ahead, only being able to provide him with a shrug. “I don’t know… maybe upstate, maybe somewhere else.”

“Your mom would like you being Upstate.”

“My mom would love us living next door too, but I don’t see that in the cards anytime soon.” You got a ghost of a smile for that.

“We could probably afford a house if we moved out there,” he said as he moved his lips to meet your forehead.

“Buck, I’d move anywhere with you. As long as we have each other, then we have all we need to rebuild this place.”

He pressed soft kisses to the crown of your head, and you swore you felt his chest flutter. “Tomorrow, I’m gonna look for some places, bigger ones too.” He tilted your head up to find your eyes, and you were sure that all of the love you carried for each other was incredibly visible at that moment. “You have made this apartment something worth coming home to. Now let me give you a house to make a home.” Your skin tingled with adoration as you pulled him as close as possible, burying your face into his neck.

You didn’t want to let go. You wanted to lay in this room, in this bed, and in this moment until the end of time, but you knew that something bigger and better was on the horizon for you and Bucky.

“All I heard is that you’re buying me a house.” His laugh was music to your ears.

[pleasantanathema]

Santa Daddy | Jean Kirstein x Reader

Pairing: Jean Kirstein x Reader

Rating: Explicit 

Warnings: Daddy kink, dirty talk, thigh riding, mutual pining, friends to lovers (or, rather, idiots to lovers), lots of holiday fluff

Word Count: 6k

A/N: This is my Secret Santa gift to @whats-her-quirk​ 🎄💕 June, thank you so much for being a wonderful friend; I was truly lucky and privileged to get you as my Elf for Secret Santa! I hope this fluffy (and dirty) little fic with our best boi Jean brings you some holiday cheer! 

           There were only a few things in the world that made you happier than watching Jean Kirstein smile. Like most of your friends, you’d met him through work, but there was always something so special, almost magical, about seeing his darling smile and hearing his boisterous laugh. And you rarely passed up on a chance to see delight spread across his handsome face, which is why you couldn’t say no when he asked you to join him on a get-a-away with your friends for the holidays.

           The inquiry came after you mentioned how you wouldn’t be able to make it home for the holidays due to a winter storm blowing in. It would be the second season in a row that the weather kept you from visiting home.

           You could still hear his voice in your head, “alone? For Christmas?”

           He’d then insisted you join him and his friends at Sasha’s family cabin. It was tradition for them, a gathering of misfits finding communion together out in the wilderness for a few days before the new year. You had taken trips with your friends before to amusement parks, festivals, even to the beach at Armin’s request, but something about being invited to an intimate setting to celebrate holiday traditions had you anxious.

           So, there you were, swaddled in blankets, listening to Eren bicker with Mikasa while Sasha and Connie bustled in the kitchen to make eggnog and treats. Armin had declined to join, citing that he’d seen too many horror movies about young adults alone in cabins to feel comfortable making the trip.

           And, true to form, Jean was running late. He was always late, his mind constantly moving a mile a minute unless he consigned himself to much needed rest and relaxation. Though, this time, you felt a little lonely while waiting for him on the couch, like there was a small part of you missing as you watched the snow fall outside.

           “So, none of you guys go home for the holidays?” You looked over toward the modest, plastic tree that Sasha had thrown down from her attic to bring a little holiday cheer to the living room, a few poorly wrapped presents and bags nestled under the branches.

           “Well,” Eren cleared his throat, “we are orphans.” He pulled at Mikasa’s scarf for emphasis.

           “Oh fuck, yeah, sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

           “Don’t worry about, he just always brings it up to get sympathy gifts.” Mikasa sighed, jerking the red cloth from his hands and scowling. Eren only laughed, brushing a stray hair from his face that had come loose from the bun at his nape.

           You sunk a little deeper into the cushions, eyes glancing out the window in hopes you’d see headlights flash in the driveway.

           “Do you think Jean’s okay? He should’ve been here a while ago and the storm is getting closer.”

           “Jean, Jean, Jean,” Sasha trotted into the room, balancing a mountain of sweet-smelling cookies on a plate, “you’re always worried about him.”

           “Someone should be, guy’s an idiot.” Eren chimed in, green eyes shining from the low flames rolling in the fireplace. He and Mikasa were sitting in the floor, a game of checkers spread out before them, with more stolen pieces resting near the cunning Ackerman’s side of the board.

           Eren wasn’t wrong, but over the years you’d known your group of friends, you’d noticed just how much the man in question had grown. In his early twenties, Jean had been quite the bumbling fool, having literally met you by bumping into your shoulder while leaving work, only to look at you and mumble “god you’re beautiful,” before issuing a quick apology as he rubbed at his neck sheepishly. You’d never mentioned the moment again, though your stomach still churned with a slight thrill every time you thought about it.

           But over the years he’d managed to turn that puerility into something much more charming. He was more refined, almost infuriatingly suave, easily gaining attention from anyone and everyone. And though you sometimes hated to admit it, he’d captured your thoughts as well.

           You kept your budding crush on Jean Kirstein close to your chest, not admitting it to any of your close friends. You always figured he was out of your league, seeing that he had a new, more beautiful girlfriend just about every other month. But, despite your simmering feelings, you still allowed yourself to get closer and closer to him over the years—some might say he’s your best friend, but you might call him your most treasured vexation.

           Another hour or so went by, your time spent nibbling at cookies and reminiscing with everyone about another year passed.

           Then the door finally opened, cold air gusting into the small living room as Jean stomped his damp boots on the entry mat.

           “Have you guys opened presents yet?”

           You glanced over the back of the couch, heart tugging in your chest as you noticed snow dusted in his long hair and a sizeable red and white polka dot package in his hands.

           “No because Christmas is tomorrow, or did you forget that too?” Connie said it with crumbs in his mouth, feet kicked up on the coffee table.

           Jean laughed, running a hand through his hair before wrapping the gift in his arms like it was something valuable.

           “I know, I know, and sorry I’m late, had something important to go get.” He smiled, bright and cheery, hazel eyes bouncing between his friends and the carefully guarded box, “I ask because…uh, this needs to be opened kind of soon.”

           “Is it perishable?” Sasha perked up, already ready to go make room in the fridge if something delectable was waiting as a gift.

           “I mean…you could say that? It may or may not be alive.” He was laughing, that kind of infectious laughter that had everyone in the room grinning whether they wanted to or not.

           Jean didn’t set the present down to even take off his shoes, instead tracking snow in with him and plopping onto the couch with flurries still on shoulders. He nudged your knee with his, pushing the present toward you. You pressed your lips together, hands getting sweaty as you pieced the puzzle together.

           “Is that…?”

           “Yeah,” his grin was pulling at his cheeks, eyes so sincere and happy and it almost startled you, “it’s for you.”

           The top of the box moved, the green bow popping on top of the polka dots.

           You moved the gift into your lap, pulling off the top to find perky ears and green eyes peering up at you—a kitten, grey and striped, with long, white whiskers and a pink bow around its neck greeted you with muted curiosity. You just stared at it for a moment, and it stared back, like you were both wondering just how it got into your lap.

           “I just,” Jean was getting nervous, carding his fingers through his hair again as he waited for your reaction, “I wanted to make sure you’d never spend another holiday alone, you know?”

           You carefully picked up the little cat, watching how it stretched and yawned as you pulled it from the carefully lain blanket inside its temporary home.

           You smiled, pulling the warm little bundle to your chest.

           “Um, Jean, this cat has six toes on her paws,” you said, pressing your thumb gently against one of the extra appendages in question.

           “Six toes?!” Sasha was jumping up from her seat, bounding over to kneel in front of you and pluck one of the kitten’s paws into her fingers. The cat quickly pulled its paw back, little black toe beans curling to its chest.

           “Yeah, it’s what drew me to her. She’s extra special…” you could’ve sworn you heard him mutter something under his breath, a little musing of “just like you,” but any hushed murmur was overshadowed by the ohs and ahs of your friends gathering around to look at the adorable little creature.

           The kitten had been lulled to sleep by the car ride from the shelter to the cabin, content to just curl up in your arms as inquisitive fingers prodded at her little kitten mittens and the silky, white tufts in her ears. Even Mikasa was enraptured by the tiny animal, taking the time to retie the little pink ribbon around her neck to make a bigger, prettier bow.

           You noticed how your friends were whispering, cheeky grins pressed against eager ears as they looked between you, the precious kitten, and Jean on the couch. You were starting to feel like you were missing something, or maybe that you were at the end of a joke you hadn’t caught on to yet.

           “Thank you,” you whispered to Jean after the fuss died down, everyone returning to their seats and back to their previous fixations.

          You’d mentioned perhaps wanting a cat a few weeks ago; it was just a silly, off-hand comment you made over coffee about how you’d once read that people with cats live longer because they pick up on the nine-lives of their feline partner. You didn’t believe it to be true, but you’d mused about the idea of having a cute kitten of your own to snuggle up with on lonely nights.

           “I know it’s sudden and a lot of responsibility, so if you don’t want her—”

           “No,” you cut Jean off, bundling the kitten a little closer in your arms, your heart singing as you felt her start to purr, “no, I want her, she’s perfect.”

           Jean finally started to get settled himself, standing up and shrugging off his jacket. He was in a tight turtleneck, coal black threads stretched to their limit across his broad chest and shoulders, hugging his trim waist. You were careful not to stare for too long as he stretched his arms above his head to shake off the weariness of his drive through the snow.

           He always looked like he stepped out of a fashion catalogue, fresh and so put together that sometimes you were tempted to snap his photo when he wasn’t looking; he just looked that good all the time. He loved to wear designer clothes and keep up with the latest menswear trends, and tonight was no different, that beautiful black turtleneck (that was covered in grey fur) undoubtedly belonging to a designer whose name you probably couldn’t pronounce.

           “What are you gonna name her?”

           He sat a little closer this time on the couch, a brawny arm outstretched behind you as he leaned over to scratch at the kitten’s chin.

           “I don’t know,” you admitted, gazing down at the serene, sleepy face in your arms, “I’ll have to get to know her first.”

           “Well, I’ve been calling her Frankie.”

           “Frankie?” You smiled through your confusion, the name sounding oddly right.

           “She was pretty wild in the car and kept meowing when Frank Sinatra was on the radio.”

           “I see,” you laid the kitten down into your lap, sweeping your fingers through her fur and watching as she curled up into a tighter little circle, “well, I’ll consider it.”

           You felt warm, heavy fingers brush against the back of your neck, Jean absentmindedly painting figure eights into your prickling skin. Heat flushed to your face as you realized just how close your bodies had become—his thigh was pressed against your own, dark jeans tight and hot, the scruff of his cheeks brushing against your own as he toyed with the sleeping cat’s tail.

           There were voices all around you, the muffled sounds of your friends relaxing together falling almost on deaf ears. Your whole world felt like it just revolved around this couch, like nothing else mattered beyond the simple touches to your skin and the drowsy kitten beneath your hands. He never wanted you to spend another holiday alone, you replayed his words, the sweet sentiment finally settling into your spirit.

_______________

           You could tell everyone was starting to get a bit sleepy, a few hours spent drinking spiked eggnog and chasing the new kitten around with a feather toy having left you especially exhausted. Your head was a little swimmy as you bid everyone goodnight, the grey tabby cat following closely on your heels to your bedroom where Jean had already brought in a litter box and a bed for her to sleep in. Jean, underneath all the designer bravado and smiles, was perhaps the most thoughtful person you knew.

           But despite the heaviness in your head, you couldn’t seem to sleep. You tossed and turned in the bed, occasionally picking up your phone to scroll through it or just watch the time tick by. You had a lot of thoughts mulling around in your mind, most of them revolving around the man sleeping just right across the hall.

           Never in a million years did you expect Jean to walk in with a beautiful, perfect kitten as a gift. The little thing was back to sleeping again, this time curled around one of your feet, each exhale a little purr against your toes.

           You’d carried the weight of this crush around for too many years. You rubbed your palms against your eyes, sighing as you came to terms with your feelings for Jean for what felt like the thousandth time. Your pining was starting to take its toll, too, what with the sleeping giant so close yet so far away.

           And you still felt like you were missing something.

           Throughout the night, your friends had seemingly been playing coy, teasing Jean about getting you such a big, sentimental gift. Maybe they had all caught wind of your suppressed feelings and were poking at Jean for even daring to indulge you. Now you were just getting frustrated with your thoughts, sighing as you tried to squeeze your eyes shut and force yourself to sleep.

           But then you heard a little sound, the soft buzz of your phone against the wood of the night stand.

           Jean: You awake?

           Your heart skipped a little in your chest as you saw his name flash upon your screen. You texted him nearly every day, yet he never failed to send a little jolt of adrenaline down your spine.

           You: Yeah. Can’t sleep.

           Jean: Me either. Cabin is too fucking cold.

           You: I have a kitty asleep on my feet, definitely helps beat the chill.

           Jean: A warm kitty sounds nice right now.

           Only a few seconds passed before the next message appeared.

           Jean: Wanna come keep me company?

           Your thumb hovered over the keyboard for a moment, your mind not even thinking about the words in front of you. Instead, you were picturing Jean in his bed, hair tussled with his own phone in his hand as he texted you, light spilling over his bare chest in the dark. You wondered what he was thinking—maybe he just wanted you to bring the cat over to see him for a bit, or maybe his mind was wandering in the same place yours was, which was picturing him naked beneath his sheets.

           You set the phone down, momentarily starting to panic.

           You hadn’t prepared for this, hadn’t prepared for the possibility that Jean might be asking you to come get in his fucking bed with him. Thank god you took a leisurely shower earlier—and you still smelled good, you checked.

           You stood up from the bed, watching the kitten stretch and quickly fall back asleep on top of the blankets. You bent down to slip on your pajama pants, but then found yourself debating if you should just leave the flimsy material behind.

           If this was what you were hoping it was, walking in without pants would send the “I got the hint, I’m here to fuck,” message loud and clear.

           But if this was just “hey pal come keep me company, I’m bored,” walking into his room in nothing but a shirt and panties could be quite awkward.

           You decided to hedge your bets, stuffing your pajama bottoms back into your bag as that lingering liquid courage from the eggnog set in. If worse came to worse, you could always say you forgot to pack them.

           You carefully closed the door behind you, making sure the cat didn’t follow.

           Then, it was literally just a few steps to Jean’s room. Conveniently, his door was cracked. Did he get up and leave it open for you? Did he always sleep with his door cracked? Or had he planned all along to ask you to come over?

           You shook your head, taking a deep breath. Those inessential thoughts needed to be quieted.

           The door creaked as you slid past it, the old hinges signaling your arrival and making Jean’s attention whip towards you. His phone was still in his hand, like was watching your messages and too-eagerly anticipating your reply.

           “Hey,” you whispered into the darkness, wincing as the door kept groaning as you pushed it shut behind you. You leaned against it for a moment, too nervous to just waltz up to his bed and fall in. You chewed at the inside of your cheek as you waited for him to break the silence.

           “Aren’t you cold?” He whispered back, shifting in the bed.

           His figure was illuminated by the pale, grey light from window, the snow clouds still keeping the moon suppressed in the sky. Like you’d imagined, he was shirtless, all those hard-earned muscles on display from where he was propped up on his elbows, sheets low against his waist.

           “I thought you were cold, Mr. No Shirt.”

           “You’re not wearing pants.”

           “I’m not wearing pants,” you parroted back.

           You watched the smile spread across his face, that darling, infuriatingly pretty smile that made you a little too happy in this moment.

           He pulled his sheets back in invitation, revealing that he, too, was not wearing pants, only clad in blue boxer briefs that were sinfully tight around his upper thighs, etchings of Calvin Klein pressed against his lower stomach.

           His hands were on you before you even settled onto the mattress, warm and greedy and pulling you flush against his body. All those worried thoughts you had before vanished under his touch, the message you had been missing suddenly loud and clear: you weren’t the only one hiding your feelings. All those veiled emotions came alive beneath wandering hands, your fingers digging into the meat of his shoulders as his found the flesh of your thighs.

           “Was this what you were thinking about when you invited me here?”

           You breathed in the smell of his warm skin as you settled against him, notes of his cologne still lingering against his body.

           “This is what I think about all the time,” he confessed, nudging his thigh between your legs.

           You couldn’t stop the moan that fell from your mouth as the muscles of his thigh pressed against your aching core.

           “Me too,” you were pulling his face down to yours, thumbs against his cheeks as you pressed your lips to his.

           A satisfied sound rang from both of your throats, lips melding and slanting against one another hungrily.

           “Why didn’t you say anything?” His words were lost within the kiss, being swallowed down as you kept drinking him in.

           “Why didn’t you say anything?” You echoed back, gasping as his hands slid underneath your shirt and began to wander across your belly, reaching up toward your ribcage.

           You both knew the answer to that: you were idiots, too scared to admit feelings even though they were clearly on display for everyone around you. But now the question didn’t matter, all the answers you wanted about to be shared between your anxious bodies with starved kisses and touches.

           You shamelessly pressed yourself a little harder against his thigh, sighing as your pussy found relief against his leg. He groaned at your action, moving his thigh back and forth a little bit to see how you would react. When you whimpered, your own thighs squeezing around his, he smirked, repeating the motion of sweeping his thick, sturdy thigh back and forth between your legs.

           “You like that?” His head was tilting down, teeth nipping at your jaw and down your neck as your head fell back against the pillow.

           “Y-yes, feels so good.”

           His hands were still traveling, wandering across your heated skin like he wanted to map your curves into his memory. He groaned against your throat when he discovered you’d also forgotten to wear anything under your t-shirt, his thumbs lazily brushing the undersides of your breasts.

           You felt like you were burning beneath his sheets, like he was painting fire against your skin with every touch. His large hands engulfed your breasts, carefully kneading and rolling your soft flesh in his palms. He was eager to kiss you again, to slip his tongue past your parted lips and get addicted to your taste.

           Jean pinched and pulled at your hardening nipples, greedily taking your little mewls into his mouth. He touched you like he already knew you, pulling at your body like you were the perfect little sex doll on strings for him to play with; rocking you on his thigh, tugging at your nipples, tongue dancing in your mouth, his hair tickling your cheeks, his cock hard and hot against his stomach.

           Your panties were getting more and more wet by the second, the soaked material sinking into your folds as you rubbed yourself against the downy hairs and rounded, solid muscle of his upper thigh. His boxer briefs were bunching closer to his hips, pre-cum already staining against the fabric where his cock was imprinted into the threads. You slipped your hand down his impressive chest, fingers dipping into the elastic of his briefs.

           “Oh fuck,” he groaned against your lips, pulling back to suck in a breath as your fingertips brushed against the head of his cock, “fuck you’re so hot riding my thigh like that, so fucking wet.”

           “You did say you wanted a warm kitty.”

           Your words had him pinching harder at your nipples, making you gasp as he chuckled.

           “Mhm I can’t wait to play with your kitty, make you mine,” he punctuated his sentence by bouncing his leg up, sending electric pulses of pleasure racing over your nerves.

           You responded by pulling his cock from its confines, wrapping your fingers around it and tugging at the silken skin. God he was thick, barely fitting in your palm as you moved your wrist up and down. You suddenly felt so small against him, realizing that he was dwarfing you just by lying next to you in the bed. His long, thick fingers could spread across the entirety of your chest, the thigh sliding against your pussy was enormous, but it felt like it belonged there; you could get used to riding him like this.

          You both fell into a frenzied, delirious rhythm, your bodies bucking and panting as you found bliss against each other.

          His hands slid down your body, leaving your tender breasts and searching for a new home. He found your hips, fingers digging into your skin as he rocked you back and forth against his thigh himself, using the strength in his forearms to have your pussy pressed down against him in the most perfect way to have you seeing stars and whining his name.

          “Gonna cum, baby? Gonna cum just from riding me?”

          “Fuck, yeah, yes, please, make me cum like this.”

          Your hand had gone slack against his cock, your mind almost unable to concentrate under the waves of pleasure building and coiling inside you.

          It felt too good to have his rapacious hands on your hips, grip mean and tight as he basically fucked you against his thigh. You wanted to scream, your other hand clawing at the back of his neck for stability.

          “Baby,” he breathed, peppering a few kisses along your cheek, “could…could you call me daddy when you cum?”

          There was a hesitancy in his voice, like he was ashamed to ask such a thing.

        �� Your lower belly clenched, heat racing across all your nerve endings like he’d just poured sin straight out of his mouth.

          You nodded your head for him, uncontrollable moans and gasps getting in the way of your own words. The thought of calling him daddy, that sent something wicked down to your pussy, had your fingers squeezing and tugging at his cock again and your eyes falling shut.

          It felt like your sanity was breaking, like reality was splintering and this wasn’t real—you were dreaming again, weren’t you? But then you felt his cock twitch in your hand, felt your swollen clit brush against your panties and his thigh, and you were thrusted back into the actuality of your situation. You were with Jean, he was groaning in your ear, and you were about to cum all over him.

          “D—da…,” you were choking, so overwhelmed with a final cresting of bliss that you almost felt like sobbing.

          But he just clutched you more tightly, pressed you harder against him, whispering your name in encouragement to let yourself go for him.

          Then, you lost all of your sensibilities, euphoria washing over your body as you snapped and came undone with a little whine of, “daddy,” against his lips. You slowed the rocking of your hips, your heart beating out of your chest, your pussy pulsing and clenching as you rode out the last remnants of your orgasm.

          “Holy fucking shit that’s so hot, you’re so hot,” he mumbled, one of his hands smoothing against your cheek.

          “Wha—,” you smiled, shaking your head as you caught your breath, “what are you doing with a daddy kink, Jean?”

          He mimicked your smile, hands moving to slide your ruined panties down your legs and removed the rest of your clothing as he repositioned your bodies. You let him move you around like a ragdoll, so delirious in your afterglow that you barely even registered how he was hooking your legs onto his shoulders.

          “Do you not like calling me daddy?” There was a seriousness laced into his tone that told you he’d drop it if it made you uncomfortable.

          “I like it,” you fisted one of your hands in his hair, bringing his lips to yours for a slow, messy kiss, “just didn’t expect it.”

          “I’m full of surprises, baby.”

          You felt the head of his cock nudge between your wet folds, his hands back on your hips where they belonged. Your head fell back against the pillow as he started to push inside of you, stretching your walls and making your toes go almost numb from the pleasure. You felt like you were splitting apart, like a fissure was forming down the middle of your body, stemming from where he was spearing into you.

          With your legs on his broad shoulders, he was pushing you into the mattress, his hands urging your hips to relax and let him sink into your warm heat.

          “Ohhhh fuckkkk daddy,” you couldn’t help but to whine, all your senses suddenly overwhelmed again. You were drowning in him, falling deeper and deeper into the throes of heaven with every inch of his fat cock slipping inside of you.

          “God you’re so tight,” he presses his forehead to yours, keen eyes watching how your lips were falling apart and your eyebrows scrunching together in pleasure, “that’s right, daddy’s going to take such good care of you.”

          It felt like all your history with him was being wiped away, like this moment wasn’t about two friends fulfilling all their years of mutual pining, but instead about a new relationship blooming between two bodies full of lust and desire. This was about Jean fucking you senseless, about him taking control and finally having what’s belonged to him for longer than he probably even realized. You wanted to lose yourself to him, lose yourself to his appetite and just let him devour you.

          All the air left your lungs when bottomed out inside of you, your walls clenching and sucking him in. He stayed still for a moment, nearly lost himself at the feeling of your cunt wrapped so tightly around his cock.

          “So fucking perfect,” he groaned, dragging his cock out of you slowly before pressing in again, your cunt greedily sucking him back in.

          “I always have been,” you teased, one hand lost in his hair while the other slid down the expanse of his back. You bucked your hips in his hands, coaxing him to keep moving.

          “Oh fuck. Good girl.”

          His praise made you feel drunk, liquid heat rushing to your ears and between your legs.

          He began to snap his hips, repeatedly burying his cock into your depths, the angle of your body making him hit that fleshy patch inside of you. You cried out at the feeling of being so stuffed, your walls burning from the intrusion but that coil inside your belly tightening again, hotter and more intense than before.

          “Mhmmm, such a good girl, I promise,” you pressed your lips to his in reassurance, letting your breathy moans fall into his mouth as he started to get a little rougher. His pace was steady, solid, a hard motion of his cock thrusting in and out of you, each push and pull full of purpose and passion. Every plunge was making your lower stomach spasm, making pleasure burst across your body so forcefully that you felt that urge to cry again.

          “Wanted to fuck you for so long,” his face was tucked underneath your chin, mouth trailing across your throat between his words. A particularly hard suck against your neck had your back arching, breasts flattening against his chest and your nails clinging to him.

          Jean sat back on his knees, big hands smoothing down your thighs as he looked to where your bodies were conjoined, watching how your pussy enveloped his cock with every thrust of his hips, sweet skin encasing all of his length. He looked enraptured by the sight, groaning and hissing every time he pressed inside of you.

          Then his eyes were flashing up to your face, softening as he took note of your blissed-out state, your face flushed and your lip between your teeth.

          “So pretty,” he mused, a palm ghosting up to your chest to toy with one of your tits as he found a new rhythm.

          You were ensnared by the scene before you as well, eyes wide with delight as you admired the man before you. Jean felt unhinged, electric between your legs, like he’d finally let go and was pouring all his clandestine secrets into your willing body. His chestnut hair was swept over his shoulders, the muscles in his arms and across his body rolling, rounded and thick like he was marble come to life. And his face was smooth, pretty, concentrated, cheeks dusky with a dark blush as he found euphoria from within your body.

          Your hips began to match his thrusts, bucking up into him in order to feel his thick cock fall deeper into you. His strong hands encouraged you, gripping into the supple flesh of your thighs as he pressed himself into your wetness, faster and faster with every thrust.

          “Daddy,” you called out to him, having to bite back a grin as you observed how quickly you earned his attention, “you feel s-so good,” your hand was traveling down your chest, trailing over his fingers on your breast before snaking down to your clit, “p-please let me cum again.”

          You had an inkling that he would take over for you.

          His thick, long fingers hovered over your own, carefully aiding in swirling over your aching clit. You hissed, recognizing the buildup to orgasm pooling within your belly.

          Jean’s other hand slid higher upon your body, fingers lacing around your ribcage, framing the underside of your breast. He began to forcefully pull your body into his, sliding you upon and down the sheets and upon his cock. You cried out, legs tightening at his waist, pulling him closer, deeper, begging him to devour you and take what he wanted. His thumb was almost impatient on your clit, now circling so quickly that your body was shaking, lower stomach clenching and unclenching repeatedly like you were lost in a reckless tide.

          “Shit, I’m not gonna last with you squeezing me like that, baby.”

          Your mouth watered at the thought of him finding that ultimate pleasure inside of you. Your ears became tuned to the chorus of resonances between your legs, the sweet, wet sounds of skin against skin, of slick at the base of a fat cock, of Jean grunting your name like a lost prayer.

          The final chord of your sanity was threatening to snap, you could feel it again, like he was pulling the strings of your body too tightly and you were going to splinter and break with just the right swipe of his thumb.

          “I-inside,” you mewled, unable to keep your eyes open any longer as your thighs began to quake, “daddy—oh fuck, fuck—cum inside me, please,”

          God you were so fucking close to falling off the edge, and he could feel it, using his grip to bring you even harder and faster down onto your cock to get you careening and falling again.

          Your push into oblivion came when you heard him pleading, almost whining, above you, sweat dripping down his skin as his syllables flowed together, “please, please, please, fuck, cum for daddy, cum for me, please.”

          You could both feel it, how you creamed around his cock, pussy sucking him in so deliciously tight that it caused him to lose all control. His fingers dug a little too deep, his cock throbbing and pumping deep inside of you with his release. It was like the world went quiet, like a blanket of snow fell onto your bodies and hushed your sounds and cooled your skin. You could feel the heavy weight of him inside of you, like he was meant to be there. Your body relaxed, feeling like you were sinking into the mattress and he was the only thing keeping you from being lost.

          When he finally pulled his spent cock from inside you, he wasn’t gone long. His hands were back on you again, pulling you in for simple, affectionate kisses and rubbing tenderly at the places he’d perhaps explored too roughly.

          “Jean…” you cut yourself off with a yawn, fatigued limbs winding into his own.

          His thigh found its home between your legs again, both of you groaning with a mixture of lust and disgust as you felt his cum drip into a mess between your thighs.

          “Whatever it is can wait until morning, we need to sleep.”

          “Oh fuck, it’s Christmas.”

          He nuzzled your cheek, lips searching for yours.

          “Mhmm, Merry Christmas, baby.”

          You laughed, laying your head against his chest.

_______________

          You weren’t sure how long you slept, but it felt like you spent a small eternity in Jean’s bed before your eyes opened again. When you awoke, he was already awake, sitting on the edge of the bed with the kitten in his arms. She was ready to play, striped tail swishing as he dangled a toy mouse just out of her reach.

          “What time is it?” You stretched, suddenly all too aware that you were still very naked beneath the sheets.

          “It’s only eight, everyone else is still asleep aside from Mikasa who actually went for a run in the fucking snow.”

          Jean smiled, hair tucked behind his ears, and you felt your heart skip a beat as you realized just how madly in love with him you were. You always aimed to make him smile, to hear him laugh, but to see him gazing at you in the morning sun with pure adoration shining in his hazel eyes had you practically melting into the bed.

          “I meant what I said last night, you know,” he said, turning the kitten loose to run across the bed.

          “You said a lot of things last night, daddy,” you teased, watching his cheeks turn a pretty pink at the mention of that name.

          “I meant about you never spending another holiday alone. Because, you know, I’d like to…” he trailed off, rubbing at the back of his neck like he was genuinely nervous.

          You sat up, running a hand down his arm before kissing at his shoulder, momentarily getting lost in the smell and feel of him.

          “Yeah, I’d like that.”

          No one was surprised that the two of you, and the kitten, spent every single holiday together thereafter, mostly naked, and always smiling.