#free books come get em

[letters-to-rosie]

okay,,,,, hypothetically,,,,,, if one wanted to get into black power lit where would recommend they start 👀

the way I screamed lmao

first off, I wanna give a disclaimer: I am not the most well-read person in the world on Black Power. I read this sort of stuff as a hobby, and it's not the subject of my own academic work, even though I do write about race a LOT. I just like Black Power lol.

with that said, let's go through some hits!

Huey P. Newton

Newton, along with Bobby Seale, was co-founder of the Black Panther Party for Self Defense. he was murdered in 1989 and has a bit of a contentious legacy. however, while I recognize that many of Newton's personal issues got in the way of him being the most effective leader he could be, that shouldn't stop us from reading him! we never require perfection of, say, Lenin to consider him important, lol

Newton's Revolutionary Suicide is a powerful but very difficult book. I actually have yet to finish it because of the way he describes his time in solitary confinement. the conditions are literally sickening. but I want to get back to it someday. I also know there's a relatively recent reader on him that might be helpful, but I have yet to find a pdf copy of it :(

Kwame Ture/Stokely Carmichael

now for one of Newton's archnemeses! lol. Ture was a founding member of the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee, which hosted other famous figures such as John Lewis. he worked closely with MLK during the Civil Rights movement and was on the ground in many very difficult struggles. he would later become affiliated with the Black Panthers while Newton was in jail, and one of his most famous speeches is from the Free Huey movement. but they wound up not liking each other, mostly because Ture was firmer about not allying with other progressive movements. this caused tension with other Panthers such as Newton and Fred Hampton, who felt like allying themselves with international and local organizations was important, even if those orgs included non-black people. Ture eventually fled the US and lived most of the rest of his life in Guinea. I have a copy of a book of his speeches in the collection and highly recommend it. even when I disagree with Ture, I find him so engaging. he always makes me think. AND! if you're up for it, I'd recommend checking out some of his speeches. he was a very compelling speaker, and a bunch of his talks are uploaded on the youtube channel AfroMarxist

Angela Davis

Davis is perhaps one of the most recognizable names out of the Black Power era, probably because she's still alive, lol. Davis grew up in Alabama, and her church was famously bombed by white supremacists in 1963, killing 4 young girls. Davis would become famous a decade later when she represented herself at trial when accused of having weapons others used to kill cops. her imprisonment sparked an international movement. later on, she'd go on to become a professor, and she's still active as a public intellectual today. of her work, I've read part of Freedom Is a Constant Struggle, but I also have Women, Race, and Class and Are Prisons Obsolete? for your perusal! Davis is a leading figure in prison abolition thought, which is very very cool

Assata Shakur

Assata Shakur is known for many things, including: being the first woman on the FBI's most wanted list; being Tupac's godmother; and, most famously, being put in prison after a string of crimes she maybe did but maybe not, being freed by comrades, fleeing to Cuba, and hanging out there until the present (Newton also fled to Cuba at one point; that was a time). her autobiography is really great, though she doesn't tell you how she got out of prison. the writing is really engaging, and I think she does a great job of showing just how fucked up the surveillance of these groups was. she left the Panthers to join the Black Liberation Army, which was a very loose collective of smaller groups, but I'll let her tell the story lol

George Jackson

Jackson is the author of my current read, Blood in My Eye. he was also a member of the Panthers (there's a theme here), but he started his own group, the Black Guerilla Family, while in prison. one of the members ironically killed Newton! what a story lol. but Jackson spent the last years of his life in prison. he maintained a very militant outlook with clear principles. I really like the way he writes and his analysis, even though I'm slowly working my way through the book. he also has a famous collection of letters, Soledad Brother, which I hope to get into someday

Frantz Fanon

Fanon isn't part of the Black Power movement proper, but his writing is so influential to it it doesn't make much sense not to mention him. his main two works are Black Skin, White Masks and The Wretched of the Earth (which is in the collection). Fanon was from Martinique, moved to France, and eventually became part of the Algerian anti-colonial struggle against France. he died in his 30s!!! (Jackson died at 29, and Newton in his 40s; there's a theme here). but anyway, Fanon's brief life has powerful resonances to this day. in Wretched of the Earth he uses his background as a psychiatrist to give a really interesting analysis of the effects of violence on the colonized. Paulo Freire's famous Pedagogy of the Oppressed was actually written in response. and so were a lot of other things lol

Audre Lorde

Lorde was a big figure in the Black Arts Movement, which is associated with Black Power. her writing, along with Davis's, brings much-needed feminist (and queer! both are lesbians) analysis to the table. I've included two of her books, a poetry collection, and a collection of essays and speeches. I loveeeeeee Audre Lorde, and I highly recommend her work

Amiri Baraka

Baraka was the person who coined the term "Black Arts Movement." he wrote on a number of black art forms, but I have only so far engaged with his poetry. I have a collection here I haven't finished (full transparency, haven't finished the Lorde collection either; I kinda like to just go in there and grab a poem or two from time to time) called Transbluency. I would say that compared to Lorde, Baraka's poetry shows signs of its age more. it can get slightly toxic lol. but I find a lot of that resonates with me in it, and Baraka was so prolific that you can see how he shifts over time. someday I will find a digital copy of Un Poco Low Coup, I swear!

also gotta read Elaine Brown, Malcolm X, and Fred Hampton, but I have yet to. hopefully I have plenty of time to!

um okay this is a lot of reading!!! good luck!!! lemme know if you have questions!!

click here for pdf copies of most of the mentioned books!

[aria0fgold]

Okay, theory time! Basically, what I think is the reason for Wish Craft to smell/taste of burnt sugar! So... to start of, Wish Craft is a type of Craft that can grant wishes, and we all know that the power to do so is a double-edged sword. It depends entirely on the contents of the wish if it'll turn out good or bad, and in In Stars and Time, the wish can be granted in a variety of ways. For one thing, it can be granted immediately and outright (Siffrin mumbling whenever he makes something and unknowingly using Wish Craft during then. Whatever he makes turn out great if that's what he wanted! Like a wood figurine looking amazing). Another thing is that the wish isn't "granted" but you're instead given the means to fulfill it yourself (Such as leading you to an item or person that is the solution to your wish).

So, why is Wish Craft's specific scent "burnt sugar"? First, let's take a look at "sugar." Sugar has a very rich history, it symbolizes wealth and happiness. There's also various expressions related to sugar as well, anything that can be described as "sweet." Overall, many positive meanings is tied to sugar. But then Wish Craft has the scent of "burnt sugar," something sickly sweet. Burnt sugar is basically caramel, but Bonnie also described the scent as "caramel left to burn for hours," so it can't just be simple burnt sugar, but it's "burnt caramel." If caramel itself is a very sweet dessert, what'll happen if caramel, something that was made by burning sugar, burned even more? It'd taste Bitter.

Bittersweet is an expression, the combination of something sweet yet bitter. It can also be used to describe something that is a mixture between happy and sad. Kinda fitting in a way for a wish granting power to be bittersweet, isn't it? Because granting wishes can be something happy, it can also turn out sad, and most of all it can be bittersweet, all depending on What the contents of the wish are and Who is affected by it. For Siffrin especially, it truly was something bittersweet, his wish was granted in the form of power over time (the ability to use Time Craft, specifically looping time). It's sweet at first, because no matter what happens, everyone is safe, no matter what mistake Siffrin makes, it'll be fine because he can just loop back before that mistake ever happened. A wish that started off sweet yet later turned bitter. To start again and again and again, countless deaths, a routine repeating seemingly endlessly, none of their family members ever remembering anything.

It was sweet then turned bitter. A bittersweet wish, throughout the game, the scent of Wish Craft was mostly described as "burnt sugar," something sickly sweet. But during Siffrin's fight at the end, Bonnie described it as "burnt caramel," because that's what's technically happening to Siffrin's wish. It keeps Burning. Like a star nearing its end. It just burns and burns until nothing of it is left, Siffrin's wish kept burning, so much so that it got to the point of being able to destroy the world. Because at that moment, Siffrin reached his breaking point, he couldn't handle it anymore, the seemingly neverending loops, the fact that no matter what he does his family members will go their separate ways at the end of the journey, leaving Siffrin all alone without the Home he found himself in which is their family members.

So that's why I think Wish Craft's scent is "burnt sugar" as a way to signify wishes themselves. Wishes can be sweet, wishes can burn, wishes can be bitter, and wishes can be bittersweet. But that's also not the only thing wishes can be, because sugar isn't only found in good things, it's found in the dead as well, specifically plants. When a plant wilts, its scent is "sickly sweet," isn't it? And the way Euphrasie described it every time you talk to her, she says "something is rotting," because she can smell that "sickly sweet" scent of Wish Craft like Bonnie could. Euphrasie is especially familiar with the scent of rotting plants considering how she's surrounded with plants everywhere. So wishes too, can rot.

[emilys-bangs]

born knowing you | e.p

Tags: shy!reader, established relationship (married cause who wouldn’t wanna marry her), temporary amnesia, hospitals, reader has an appendectomy but no details are mentioned, absolute boatload of fluff, disgusting amount of petnames used, no use of yn

Summary: After your surgery, the effects of the anesthesia linger: you can’t remember your wife—or being married to her. Luckily for the both of you, she’s persistent.

Word count: 1.4k

The moment you peel your threaded lashes apart, fluorescent light assaults your eyes. Immediately they shutter closed. You take a few seconds to adjust to the blissful dark before opening them again, a small, displeased sound getting stuck in your throat. 

It catches the attention of a woman sitting on a chair next to your bed. She looks up from a book in her lap, a smile crossing her face as she closes it and slips it onto the table next to her. Your brain is fuzzy, but with the sharp scent of antiseptic and the uncomfortable scratch of the gown you’re wearing, it’s not hard to deduce that you’re in a hospital.

“Hi gorgeous,” she says softly. Reaching out, she takes your hand. “How are you feeling?”

You frown confusedly. Looking between her and your joint hands, your perplexion mounts; you know her, you must. Your skin doesn’t crawl at her touch. But you try to come up with a name, a memory, and your brain comes up with nothing.

The woman squeezes your hand and leans out of her chair, across the handle of your bed—she’s suddenly so close you could count the freckles on her cheeks. Her eyes spike your sluggish pulse into something frantic.

God, she’s so familiar. You know that stare. Your skin warms at its intensity, a low buzz in your bones that could no doubt be accredited to the deep, unfathomable brown of her iris. 

Nobody has eyes like that.

The woman’s brows pinch at your silence. A wrinkle forms between her manicured brows; she chews on her bottom lip, squeezes your hand again—nervous this time.

“Honey?”

“I…I know you,” you mumble uncertainly. It sounds like a question. 

The wrinkle clears. An exhale parts the woman’s heart-shaped lips, her relief wafting over your chin.

“You do. I’m Em, baby. Emily. Don’t you remember?” She asks gently, cradling your cheek with her free hand. You think you could’ve answered if not for the devastating tilt of her spidery lashes. “The anesthesia did a number on you, huh? The doctor said it might happen.” Her thumb traces the length of your jaw.

She’s so close. You swallow and discover that your throat is dry. Emily, she said. Strange how it warms you up on the inside. Flitting your eyes away, you relieve yourself of her crushing gaze.

“Can I have water?” You rasp.

Emily procures a bottle. Cold creeps into your skin as she adjusts your bed, helping you sit up, and uncaps the water. Your arms are leaden by your sides. Heat surges in your cheeks as you let her help you drink, a distinct weight on your face you think might be from her eyes. You can hardly feel the cool spill of the water down your throat.

Clumsily, you push the bottle away when you’re done. Water spills down your chin; it travels down the column of your neck, soaks your hospital gown. Embarrassment flares hot, especially when Emily’s hand is there on your chin, drying the water with her fingers. You stare at her, this time unable to look away even when her eyes meet yours.

She smiles, dimples popping in her cheeks. “Everything alright in there? They didn’t mess you up too bad, did they?” Her voice is lightly teasing. It’s lovely, silky smooth and drenched with the warmth of adoration. That can’t all be for you, can it? “I should’ve flashed my badge, let them know it was precious cargo they’d be dealing with.” She muses, brows pinched as if she were serious.

God, who is this woman?

You swallow your thrumming heart. “What happened?”

“You had an appendectomy.” Emily says. “Laparoscopic. It took about an hour��we should be out of here once they check your vitals.” 

Out of here, to where? She won’t be taking you to her home, will she? You saw a wedding ring on her finger when she tucked her hair—wavy, dark as an oil spill—behind her ear. The glint of metal makes your stomach tighten strangely.

“Hey, you never answered,” Emily’s leaning against the handle of your bed, “how are you feeling?” A smooth, smoky scent floods your lungs.

“Alright.” Breathless. Her ring is dazzling in the dull light. “Itchy. But nothing hurts. You’re married.” You say, vaguely aware of the way your voice slurs.

Emily smiles softly. 

“We are.”

What?

You shake your head haltingly. “I’m not—I’m not married.”

“You are, sweetheart.” Again, she cups your face. “To me. What, am I that easily forgettable?” She whispers. The smile doesn’t play on her lips now; it shimmers in her eyes. “You’re breaking my heart, love.” Her voice is so achingly tender, soft as the cushioned heel of her palm.

Your heart is going to beat out of your chest. 

Breathless, you wet your lips with a quick dart of your tongue. “You…you wanted to marry me?”

Emily looks almost offended.

“Of course I did.”

You still can’t fathom it. “Why?” You mumble. “Why me?”

“Who else if not you?” She thumbs along your jaw.

You’re dizzy. And almost entirely sure she can feel your frantic pulse under the lazy drag of her finger. At your disbelief, Emily hums.

“Here,” her hand is reaching for your left, “see? I put that there, two October’s ago.” She kisses your wedding band—how hadn’t you felt it?—her lips velvet smooth against your skin. “You were so stunning I nearly forgot my vows.” The warm vibrations of her voice sink into your hand, reverberate through your bones.

It’s a good thing you’re in a hospital; you think she might be doing you irreparable damage. Lungs tight, you try to think past the effortless way she threads her fingers through yours.

“Do you always flirt like that?”

Emily’s smile melts your brain. “When you let me.”  She shifts a little closer—impossibly—and her eyes sweep downward, a lick of heat burning your lips. Then they’re back up to meet yours, wide open and a little desperate. “Can I kiss you, baby? God, you wouldn’t believe how much I missed you in there.”

Your heart palpitates.

“We’ve done it before?” You manage, more than a little choked at the thought.

“A million times.” Emily promises.

It’s your turn to look at her mouth. Soft pink, heart shaped, and entirely too inviting. When she does something with a flash of her teeth, you’re a goner.

“Okay.”

She lights up. “Yeah? Sure?”

“Please.”

The breath you exhale when she cups your cheek is downright embarrassing. But it almost doesn’t matter; this close, you can see that her pupils are wide, blown out. The lack of iris doesn’t make her gaze any less intense. If you hadn’t been sitting, legs firmly on the mattress, you’d have slid to the floor with weakened knees.

Emily’s lips are exactly as soft as they look. She tastes like coffee, sweetened by something you inexplicably identify as Splenda, and when her fingers sift through your hair something tugs in your chest. It’s instantly proven—no, this isn’t your first kiss. Maybe it has been a million times, or maybe somewhat less, but it’s not the first. Though it’s chaste and quick, your mouth knows what to do. Even when Emily leans back, eyes glittering, your mouth takes over without your permission.

“Love you,” you blurt.

Emily grins so wide you’re breathless. “I love you too. What, did I kiss some memories into that pretty brain of yours?” She thumbs at the edge of your tingling lip.

“You could try to. If you wanna.” What are you even saying anymore? She’s robbed you of thought, of breath. You’re happy to be completely at her mercy.

“Honey, there’s nothing else I’d rather be doing.” Emily says solemnly. She kisses the corner of your mouth, the mellow lilt of her voice dissolving right in your tongue. “In fact, it’s my duty as your wife, I’m pretty sure.”

“My wife,” you say dumbly.

“Oh, you like that.” Her grin is incandescent. “God, I’d marry you all over again if I could.”

“I’d just like to remember the first time,” you say quietly.

“You will.” Another kiss, to the other corner of your mouth. Feather light and quicker than you’d like. Your mouth curves into a sulk—a pout.

“Soon?”

“Before you even know it.” Emily—your wife (the reality is starting to set in)—promises. And her promise holds up; it’s when she’s taken you home, and you’re in a baggy pair of sweatpants, flushing and fidgeting as it comes back to you. Believe me now? she teases into your ear, her laugh soft when you reach out to swat at her.

You can’t believe you ever doubted.

taglist: @suckerforcate @sickoherd @lextism @catssluvr @i-lovefandom @haiklya @justhereforthosefics @storiesofsvu@ashluvscaterina @basicallyvivi@temilyrights@professorsapphic

[dyaz-stories]

JUJUTSU BOYS + PDA

how the jjk boys are when you're in public with them

including: gojo, nanami, choso, yuuji, megumi, maki

word count: 3.6k (500-600 words for one character)

cw: intended as canon compliant, established relationships, fluff, tooth-rotting fluff, kissing, public demonstrations of affection, can't think of anything else tbh

a/n: been reading some fics in this format so wanted to try my hand at it again. it's been years since I wrote short pieces like that, so I hope you'll enjoy them!

GOJO

Gojo has no concept of personal space, and that is something you had to get used to since you started dating — if anything, since before you started dating. Even when the two of you were at a more flirtatious stage, he’d always be leaning towards you to talk to you, face inches away from yours, hands on your hips if he needed to move past you, arm casually around you if you were sitting next to each other. It was all the better if it flustered you.

None of this has changed, except that he’s much more extra about it now. Holding your hand while walking? Nah, that’s boring. He’ll have his arm around your shoulders, even if it’s not convenient given the height difference. He’ll also try to put his hand in the back pocket of your jeans, pout if you tell him not to do it. If you’re waiting in line with him, he has both of his arms around you, is resting his chin on top of your head, and wants nothing more than for you to lean back into his chest, relaxing into his embrace. You can both be doing totally unrelated things — you’re reading and he’s checking his phone — but you’re slotted against each other, and that’s how it is ideally for you.

You’re waiting for him to show up to your date when you feel yourself surrounded by familiar arms, and then his cheek is pressing against yours as he surveys the book you’re holding in your hands.

“Whatch’ya reading?” he asks, breath warm against your cheek.

“Just doing some research on emerging curses,” you say with a shrug as you close it and put it in your bag. “So, did you want to check out that new bakery?”

He hums in reply, and you wait for him to move so you can start walking.

He doesn’t.

“…do you plan on letting go of me?” you ask after a while, turning your head to look at him.

He pouts at you, inches away from your face.

“I haven’t even gotten a kiss yet…”

“We’re in public, Satoru,” you say, feeling your face heating up.

“So? Let ‘em stare. They might as well, if you ask me.”

You want to roll your eyes — one day, you’ll have to talk about that exhibitionist streak of his — but in the meantime, you just have to crane your neck a little to peck his lips. They’re soft, as always, and he follows greedily when you pull away, his hand coming up to tilt your chin up gently as he presses more kisses on the corner of your lips, then on your cheek.

“You’re impossible,” you say, badly hiding your laughter. “Let’s go, or we won’t make it to closing time. You’re late, by the way.”

He lets out a heartbroken sigh, but finally frees you, keeping his arm around your shoulders as the two of you start walking towards the bakery. He keeps his strides short, so you don’t have to run to keep up with him, instead allowing you to keep a comfortable pace.

“Yeah, well, what can I say? I’m just too good at my job, they can never get enough of me.”

“Aw, poor darling,” you say. You grab his hand, intertwining your fingers with his, and bring it to your lips to press a kiss on the back.

He lets out a cough that doesn’t do much to disguise the fact that he’s getting flustered, and you grin, satisfied. Two can play that game.

Fortunately, neither Satoru nor you have any intention of forfeiting any time soon.

NANAMI

Nanami is a private man. There is no reason for the whole world to know his business, and he doesn’t feel the need to put his relationship on display for everyone to see. His softness for you is still plain to see in how gentle his voice gets when he speaks to you, in how carefully he chooses his words, in how fond his eyes are when he listens to you tell him about your day. He knows you like him holding your hand, though, so he’ll indulge you, especially when you’re walking by his side through crowded streets.

That is for practical reasons, of course. First, it just wouldn’t do to lose sight of you. Second, people tend to steer clear of him, his serious expression and his broad frame, and that means they realize quickly to steer clear of you. It has nothing to do with how soft your hand is in his, or how the way you use your thumb to stroke his skin sends shivers down his back.

“That’s a lovely restaurant,” you comment, eyes drinking in the elegant decor while Nanami is examining the menu.

“It had excellent reviews,” he answers, not going into details as to the great lengths he’d gone to in order to ensure that this date was as perfect as humanly possible.

“I’ve been in the neighborhood so many times, and I had no idea this was here,” you say. The place is very small, only a handful of tables, all of them now filled. You’re sharing an alcove with Nanami, creating some distance with other customers.

“There aren’t many tables available, so they don’t advertise much,” he explains as he sets the menu down. “But they’re known for their excellent cuisine.”

You give him a smile, then lean closer to him to kiss him on the cheek. Your lips linger just a little too long, and then you move them close to his ear, which is already turning quite red.

“Thank you for planning all that,” you say sweetly. “It looks wonderful.”

He clears his throat when you pull away, avoiding your eyes.

“Of course,” he answers, voice wavering imperceptibly. “Anything for you.”

And you know he means it, too.

Under the table, his hand finds your leg, large palm easily covering your knee while calloused fingers carefully rub your calf. You bite your lip, welcome the warmth that spreads in your body. You know Kento well enough to be sure that that’s as far as he’ll go, that he wouldn’t dare to do anything more in such a public setting, and that makes you enjoy the intimacy of the gesture all the more.

Later that night, while the two of you are walking out, his jacket is around your shoulder at his insistence — “It’s cold outside” — and he’s getting ready to call a taxi.

“Kento?”

He lowers the phone to look at you, and you push yourself on your tiptoe, hand closing around his tie to pull him down towards you.

It’s late at night, he tells himself. There’s no one around, he tells himself. That’s why he closes his eyes and allows himself to melt into the kiss, regretting it when you pull away too soon and catching himself before he grabs you by the hips to get you closer to him.

“I had a great evening,” you say. “Should we take this to somewhere more private?”

How much more merciless can you get?

“Certainly,” he says. “Just give me a second.”

There is nothing he can deny you.

CHOSO

Choso cannot wrap his head around what he can and cannot do around you. The rules for what is proper, what is acceptable, have shifted so much since he was last around, and he would die before he embarrassed you — or worse, before he did something that would make you push him away. He knows that you wouldn’t, and yet the fear is like a weight that tugs on his heart every time he thinks about it. He walks by your side, glancing at your hand that’s freely hanging between the two of you, and though he brushes his knuckles against yours, he just cannot bring himself to do it. It’s to the point where it’s the only thing he’s thinking about — and he just can’t do it.

Then you see something that catches your eye and you grab his hand and pull him with you in that direction, and he thinks his heart could just fall out of his chest. You make it look so easy, so natural, being with him coming as easy to you as breathing, and he couldn’t possibly ask for more. It takes him many other tries, many other dates, before he can take your hand in his. When he does, you glance down in surprise, then grin at him, and kiss his knuckles softly — and he’s so happy he could die.

“So,” you say, sitting on the park bench, knee pressed against his while you’re leaning into him to show him your phone, your hair tickling his neck, “that’s the movies they have on tonight. Think we should call Yuuji to ask him what to watch?”

“Hm,” Choso says, not really focusing on anything you’re talking about, not when you’re this close to him, “isn’t— isn’t that the one franchise he’s always talking about?”

You burst out laughing, then rest your head on his shoulder.

“No offense, babe, but there is no one in the world I’d go see a Human Earthworm movie for. Even if this one is supposed to have romance in it,” you shudder at the thought, “I’d like to go see something actually. You know. Watchable.”

Choso’s mind is going in overdrive. You’re so close, and he knows he should have gotten used to this by now. He isn’t usually like this, but some passers-by are looking — not necessarily being judgmental, though there was an old lady earlier who scoffed and shook her head, but… looking.

“Then I don’t know if Yuuji is going to be much help,” he manages to say as you keep scrolling on the cinema’s website.

“That’s fair,” you sigh, standing up from the bench, and even if he can now think again, he misses your warmth and your smell right away. “Well, maybe we drop the movie and just go get something to eat, what do you say?

“Sounds good,” he answers, standing up after you.

Hesitantly, almost clumsily, he reaches for your hand, fingertips brushing against your thigh as he does, then tightens his grip around your palm, ensuring that it wouldn’t slip away from you. You give him a fond smile, then take a step to get closer to him, and kiss him gently. His breath hitches, and his eyes dart around the mostly empty park.

“T-there’s people around,” he says quietly, and he hates that you step back to look around.

“Oh, sorry,” you say, “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable—”

He takes your hand to pull you with him, and you follow him through the grass as he finds a more secluded spot, behind a tree.

“There,” he says, and you chuckle at how satisfied with himself he sounds.

“Oh Choso,” you coo, leaning against the tree while you grab his shirt to pull him down towards you. His mouth is warm, eager, and his cheeks remain a fierce shade of red as he kisses you back insistently.

You would have missed the beginning of the movie anyway.

YUUJI

The thing about Yuuji is that any type of public demonstration of affection feels so natural coming from him. It’s almost never meant to be suggestive, it’s not something he thinks through, it’s just something he does. You’ll be sitting with Nobara when he appears, and he just puts his arm around you while talking to her, like it’s the most normal thing in the world. You’re walking with him when he lifts his head up like he’s forgotten something, and what he forgot was to hold your hand, silly him.

If you walk by him while he’s sitting, he’ll grab your hips to pull you in his laps, fingers rubbing circles on the skin of your arms, absent-mindedly playing with your fingers as he holds your hand. After all, why wouldn’t he? He doesn’t even realize that it flusters you, and it just feels so natural for him to show his affection like that. He’ll look at you with stars in his eyes while you speak, not seeming to realize that his face is so close to him while you’re sitting in his lap.

No one pays attention to it anymore. You arrive just as Nobara is starting the movie — she’s putting on an action movie, thank you very much, even if Gojo just bought the collector edition of Human Earthworm 4 for Yuuji, with the director’s cut — and with all the students crammed in the room, including Panda, who’s taking most of the space on the couch, there’s nowhere left for you to sit.

“Come here,” Yuuji says cheerfully, waving you towards the armchair where he’s found his spot, “it’s about to start.”

You glance around the room for a reaction, but no one is paying you any mind. You walk over to him, perching yourself on one of the arms, legs over his. He doesn’t seem puzzled by it, just puts an arm around your waist casually.

Of course, you end up still sitting in his lap eventually, just slipping in it at some point in the movie. Can you be blamed? He’s warm and comfortable, and he wraps both arms around you so he can tuck his chin in the crook of your shoulder, nose brushing against your cheek when he turns his head. Not that he seems to notice how it makes your pulse quickens, eyes focused on the movie.

“What are the themes even supposed to be,” he mutters under his breath, eyebrows knitting together in annoyance.

“’Military good’?” you suggest quietly as a guy gets blown up on screen.

“The first half of the movie was about military bad,” he protests. “They can’t just act like that never existed.”

“Would you two shut up,” Nobara shouts from her spot, “or Maki will come beat you up!”

The two of you pipe down, knowing the threat is very serious and not one to take lightly.

When the movie ends, everyone gets up, stretching, but you’ve gotten comfortable against Yuuji’s chest, and you don’t feel like doing that just yet.

“That was terrible,” Yuuji comments, and you let out a brief laugh. Gojo has somehow made a cinephile out of him, and you love how worked up he gets over that stuff.

“Yeah, we should have been watching Human Earthworm 4 instead,” you say.

“Exact— oh, you’re making fun of him.”

You giggle, then tilt your head to kiss him. For a second, he freezes, eyes going wide. Kissing is the one thing he rarely initiates — but when you do, you get to see his gaze soften, before his whole body goes soft. His hold on your waist tightens — and then a pillow thrown with impressive precision hits him, and only him, on the ear.

“Not in public,” Maki shouts from all the way into the kitchen.

“Hey,” your boyfriend protests, “I’m not the one who—”

“You’re such a traitor,” you gasp, struggling to pull yourself free from his arms — but it’s no use against his strength, and he refuses to let go.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he says. “Now, where were we?”

You might have been at fault for the first pillow, but that second one is all on him, as far as you’re concerned.

MEGUMI

Megumi is a private guy. He can be affectionate in public, but there is a side of him that he only wants you to see. He especially doesn’t want any of your nosy friends, or worse, his adoptive dad to see how he can be around you. They would never stop teasing him after, and he doesn’t think he could live with that.

Or that they could live with that. Because he’d kill them.

It does annoy him that he’s supposed to deny himself because of them. If it was up to him, he’d spend most of his time alone with you, preferably in a small house in the middle of a forest with no one around, no curses, no sorcerers, no nothing. That, sadly, isn’t an option though, so he has to find his own way to do things.

“Don’t move,” he says sternly. “You have something on your face.”

You roll your eyes, but tilt your head up towards him, as he carefully runs his thumb under your eye, then over your cheek, blowing on it once it’s done.

“What was it?” you ask.

“Just an eyelash,” he says with a shrug. “You’re good now.”

You study him, waiting for him to give something away, but he doesn’t, just staring at you with the same expression he always wears.

“Should we get going?” he asks. “I thought we were supposed to catch a movie.”

“Sure,” you relent. “We should get moving.”

The streets are quite full at this time of the day, and you have to step aside frequently to let people pass, sometimes losing sight of Megumi. Eventually, with a sigh, he grabs your hand, pulling you with him as he walks, sending murderous glares to anyone who stays in his path.

“You’re going to get lost at this rate,” he mutters as he pulls you with him.

“I mean, worst case scenario we meet back at the theater,” you say, and you grin at the offended look he gives you. He notices it, but doesn’t answer, a light pink dusting his cheek as he glances away.

He hates the idea of being away from you on a day that’s supposed to be about the two of you — but since he refuses to say the quiet part out loud, you get to tease him all you want.

To be fair to him, having Megumi as your scary guard dog does make it much easier and much faster to reach the theater. He gives you a pointed look when you get there, and, to your regret, lets go of your hand quickly, though his touch lingers there a second longer than necessary.

“Should we get a couple seat?” you ask innocently as you approach the register.

Megumi glares at you once more while you give him a sweet smile.

“It’s better that way, right?” he says, clearing his throat. “Otherwise strangers might have to share one.”

“Sure,” you nod, not even bothering to hide your grin. “It’s just more practical, right?”

“Right,” he says stiffly.

Even once you are in the couple seat, he keeps a thoroughly appropriate distance from you, one that you might find a little hurtful if, at the end of the commercials, he didn’t fake a yawn to put his arm around you, in the least smooth way known to man.

“You know you can just do it,” you say quietly as the lights turn off, resting your head on his shoulder. “You don’t have to go through all that.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he mumbles.

Reaching for his face, you tilt his head towards you, and push yourself to meet his lips for a sweet, soft kiss. For the first time since you’ve stepped foot outside, his whole body relaxes into yours, and he stops trying to pretend.

“You had something on your lips,” you whisper when you pull away.

He snorts, then quickly goes back in to steal one more kiss from you before the movie starts.

“Liar,” he says.

As if he’s one to talk.

MAKI

Maki isn’t a demonstrative person as a general rule. She does compliment you without hesitation, words falling from her mouth so genuinely that it never fails to fluster you, but physical demonstrations of affection don’t come easy to her, maybe because she received so little of it as a kid. She does it sporadically, and she does very much enjoy teasing you, loves knowing that she can get those reactions out of you.

It’s the more spontaneous gestures that get to you though. She’ll kiss your forehead after a battle that left you bruised, a way of comforting you. She’ll pat your head after you managed to pull an impressive move during training. On one occasion, when you got injured, she carried you in your arms to Shoko, demanding that you be taken care of right this instant. She’d been the one to get flustered after that, hiding her face in her hand in embarrassment when it was brought up later on.

It might not come easy to her, but she does love it when you do it — when you show her your love in that way.

“You’re late,” she scolds you when you reach her for one of your dates, needing to take a second to catch your breath because you’ve been running since getting out of the subway.

“Sorry,” you say between deep breaths, “there was an emergency.”

Worry flashes on her face immediately.

“A curse? Were you hurt?”

She reaches for you, tilting your face towards her as she examines it, then study your body to make sure you weren’t injured. You let her, surprised at first, then endeared.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she frowns once she realizes how soft your gaze has become.

You grin, then push yourself closer to kiss her. You don’t care that you’re in public, and though it wouldn’t have occurred to her to do it, neither does she. The kiss is sweet, gentle. I’m alive, you’re alive, it says. No need for more.

“See?” you ask cheerfully. “All good. Now, I’m pretty sure you were going to buy me dinner…”

She clicks her tongue, but she’s grinning. It’s nice to see her so at ease, so relaxed. It’s a side of her you’d never see within the walls of Jujutsu High, nor on a mission. You’re the only one that can bring it out of her, and man do you love it.

“I’m buying? Again?”

“I did almost just die.”

“Nice try, but you told me you were fine.”

“I’m fine now,” you insist, “but…”

“Well, I was disowned by my family, so I don’t have money. You’re buying.”

The two of you keep bickering, but, as you walk, you reach for her hand. She pulls away at first, years and years of reflexes kicking in instinctively, and once she realizes what you were doing, she’s the one who takes your hand in hers. She holds it delicately, careful not to break it — to be fair, her strength would probably allow her that.

It’s so sweet and light, being out there with you like that. So normal. She hopes it never ends.

You squeeze her hand, and she lets you guide her across the street, content with just following, knowing that she can trust you to fill in her shortcomings in the relationship, like she does it for yours.

The sky is grey, the forecast said it might run later tonight — Maki’s planned an umbrella, she’s sure you didn’t think of it — but as far as she’s concerned, the day is as beautiful as it could possibly be.

this is my first time writing for... pretty much everyone here except gojo lol. i hope you enjoyed it and that the characterization wasn't too off, but any feedback is welcome! if you want to support me and my writing, please reblog/leave a comment or send me an ask, i'd love to chat! i'll see you later for some more jjk writing ^-^

you can find my gojo x reader work here

[erwinsvow]

what if… rafe ever hit shy reader from built up anger like more of an accident? we lowk need some rafe and shy reader angst😢

this kind of slayed me.. i feel like disclosure i do not condone abuse of any sort i just think shy reader would like getting slapped around and being really roughhoused..

but if rafe reallyyy got mad about it, it might be angsty. like if she really messed up and was apologizing a ton if he actually was mad at her her heart would stop. warning rafe is rlly mean in this

being a little whiney, a little too needy and maybe excessively touchy came easily to you as rafe's girlfriend. he was always coaxing you into being more comfortable with him, and you think you'd finally reached that point.

some of your shyer tendencies seemed to have finally abandoned you when it was just the two of you. and just like you had guessed, a smaller, more possessive side of you had recently emerged from the cocoon—wanting all of rafe's attention, all the time.

it wasn't good, maybe a small part of you knew that, but it was easy to play into it, and you liked how you felt these days, more comfortable in your skin and around rafe than you had been even just a month ago.

like today. you had been a little needy all day, not wanting rafe to leave when he said he needed to go to barry's for picking something up.

"ple-ease rafe," you said it a little singsongy, serious but not that serious. "don't go. i want you to stay." it was more just wanting to hang out with him than anything else—when he left, he was usually gone for ages, and things weren't that fun without him.

"i'll be back, kid. jus' stay here, got it?"

"but you said you would-"

"kid." the way he says it, you should have realized he wasn't in the mood for you to be behaving like this.

"yesterday you said you were free all day. and i get bored-"

"yesterday i didn't know i was doin' this shit. just, please. sit tight. i'll be back."

rafe goes, and though a part of you knows you shouldn't, you blow up his phone throughout the day. really, you're not even that bored—showering and getting ready for the day and then curling up with your book after you make rafe's bed, but you played a little too far into it.

when he comes back, you should have realized something was off—but you let everything else cloud your judgement. the way rafe is never mean to you (despite the stories you had heard), how he always reassures you that he's not mad and that you didn't do anything wrong. you were led to a false belief that nothing you could do would change how rafe acts towards you.

rafe comes to sit on the bed near your feet, and you lower your book to look at him, but don't say anything. when he turns to look at you, you bring the book back up so it looks like you weren't peeking.

"c'mon. y'mad now?"

"no."

"kid, i don't have time for this-"

"you didn't answer any of my texts! or calls. and i've just been waiting here all day-" you don't know what you want—attention, quality time, an apology. you just want something other than what you're getting.

"i told you i'd be back. had shit to take care of-"

"well, i just-"

"why're you actin' like this? huh?"

you think rafe's gonna ask you the things he always does—what's wrong? did someone say something? do i need go have a talk with 'em?

but he doesn't this time.

"spoiled your ass too much and now you wanna talk back? is that it?" you're so taken aback, you think all the air has left your lungs. did rafe really think that? he stands up, so you do too, facing rafe while he paces.

"no, i just-" you're being defensive, like always. you feel like crying—you thought rafe knew you better than that, but it's also not his fault. maybe you were acting too spoiled after all, and maybe despite what he always says, he preferred you how you were when you first started dating him.

"you think m'goin out there to paint nails and gossip with barry? we had shit to do. real shit, so i can take care of you. i thought you understood that."

when you start crying, you think rafe will stop—he always does, stopping to apologize and make sure you're okay.

"tears. great. i'm tryna explain this to you. are you gonna cry everytime i get serious? huh?" it comes out a little more like a bark than a sentence—now you're scared.

"i-i'm sorry," you get out, though it's strangled in a sob and sounds more like a whisper. you don't think he heard you, but your feelings are so hurt—the rush from thinking rafe would be happy to be back home with you crashing and burning quickly, the pit in your stomach that doesn't blame him—but rather blames yourself for your behavior.

you had gotten too comfortable, too pampered, thinking that acting like this was okay—briefly you think it's not rafe's fault at all for getting mad, that it's your own fault for this happening.

you think it's best if you leave, dejectedly heading towards the door, but the second he catches you trying to walk away, he rushes over, pushing you against the door before you can even open it. your back thuds against the frame.

"rafe, you're hurting me-" you cry out, but he seems to be lost in his own anger. "please-"

"didn't say you can leave. what the hell are you doin'? you tryin' to make me mad? huh?"

"rafe, m'sorry, i-"

"actin' like this 'cause you wanna get slapped around? is that it? y'like that too much, don't you? you want me to slap you around now?"

your heart feels like it's just stopped beating. the very idea that rafe would bring up something you had just gotten comfortable with liking, only recently convinced yourself—with his help—that it wasn't wrong or dirty to like those kinds of things with him—slapping and spanking and a whole host of other things you had never even talked about, much less actually done, with anyone other than rafe, in this situation, made fat tears slip down your cheeks.

your boyfriend didn't seem like himself right now. and you were so distraught, if you were a little more clear-headed you might realize his bloodshot, dilated eyes and shaky hands. your arm hurts from where he's holding you tightly.

"rafe, please-" you get out through tears, and he lets you go a little. you slide out of his grip and stay against the door, still crying. before you can even think about it, your cheek is stinging.

he does slap you—not in the light, playful way he does when it's just the two of you somewhere or in the slightly rougher manner reserved for bed—this one is harder, everything hurting.

after it happens, you look up at rafe through glassy eyes. your fingers go to your cheek, pressing down where it was painful, like it would help it go away. but you knew deep down nothing could ever erase this memory.

you look up at rafe and he looks down at you. when you try to turn to open the door, he presses down and slams it shut before you can get out.

[sadembryhours]

softened touch ♡ mattheo riddle

synopsis ; [name] takes a nap in the slytherin common room and mattheo keeps them company gender neutral reader, no content warnings

if you have a blank blog [no bio, no user, no header or profile pic, nothing reblogged, etc] do not interact with my content. you will be blocked.

naps in the slytherin common room were routine for you. having a free period in the middle of the afternoon, right after lunch? you felt like you were blessed by some kind of angel.

pansy snickers to herself as you let out a little snore, shoving astoria lightly up the stairs. “leave ‘em be,” she says, “nothing can wake [name] now.”

blaise pauses as you turn over, eyes drifting up from his book and watching until you settle again. he’d already placed your notes where they needed to be ; no longer scattered on the table and floor. you’d been pushing yourself, he frowns, studying instead of taking care of yourself.

it’s mattheo who dares to linger the longest. he waves draco and theo away, urging them to leave without him. he was going to wake you — truly, he was — but you looked so peaceful when you weren’t scowling and glaring.

a velvet, evergreen blanket is folded over your body as you twist once more. another snort leaves your lips — mattheo grins at the sound. he crouches in front of your sleeping form before he can talk himself out of it.

delicately, mattheo brushes his pointer finger just under your eye, tracing the curve of your cheeks until he ends at the corner of your lips. your fingers tighten around the blanket as you whine, stretching lightly.

the panic doesn’t catch up to him until your eyes are gazing into his own. mattheo goes to speak but is silenced by your touch. you grab his hand — the one he’d been using to trace shapes into your cheek with — and cup your cheek with his palm.

mattheo’s breath catches in his chest as you smile.

“didn’t mean to wake you,” his whisper bounces around the room. your eyes flutter closed once more before you fight to keep them open. mattheo smiles, “go back to sleep.”

you hum, turning to place a barely-there kiss to the palm of his hand. settling again, your grip on mattheo’s hand tightens. sleepy eyes open to glare his way as he tries to leave.

mattheo grins again, wider this time as he laughs a little. “okay, i won’t leave. let me get more comfortable though, hm?”

his back is leaning against the couch you rest on, your knees pressing into the top of his shoulders. his left hand is slung behind him, intertwined with your own as you snore once again. mattheo is going over his potions essay as the common room slowly bursts to life.

you’re not woken up again until dinner. no one would come near you with a riddle glaring the way he was ; daring them to try and wake you.

[astrologydayz]

ASTRO SEXOLOGY NOTES - NATAL CHART6🔞

LUST ASTEROID - 4386 IN SAGITTARIUS = sexually attracted 2 people from different countries/different religions/or 2 teachers/mentors. They love exploring their fantasies, & are usually not afraid 2 try everything, at least once - "u can never be 100%sure u don't like something, if you never try it" kinda mentality here. They can get turned on by people who's not afraid 2 throw a line at em/not afraid of taking the initiative! They find that sexy as hell, as they typically can be the ones initiating things! Cultured, curious, & smart people def gets them going - turned on by people who's ready2 explore their fantasies, without any inhibitions! They can be a big fan of spontaneous, wild, & free sex - can also get really turned on by hips/thighs usually<33.

LUST ASTEROID - 4386 IN VIRGO = sexually attracted 2/turned on by people younger than them/younger looking people/people who's more inexperienced than them/people they can "teach" sexually/clean looking people/clean in general. These people are usually more than willing 2 put their sexual partners fantasies/sexual desires/urges before their own - they want 2 learn how their partner's body works, & they work hard 2 get that O in, in their books for sure. They can get off simply by getting their partner off a lot of the time. These people can actually be quite freaky/kinky in bed, when they feel safe/secure enough 2 show that part of themselves.

SUN CONJUNCT/TRINE MARS IN A WOMAN'S CHART, & SHE'S INTO MEN = usually really sexually attracted 2 really manly looking men - & she can also be really sexually attracted 2 alpha men, but only the confident, secure, & kind ones - not the cocky, conceited, "my dick is bigger than yours" loser ones. MOON CONJUNCT/TRINE MARS IN A MAN'S CHART can show us a man that loves sex being full of feelings/emotions, passion, teasing, & most important of all - security. If he wants 2 cry during sex, he wants 2 do it without someone maybe laughing right in his face. Or if he has some kind of fantasy/fetish, he isn't quite comfortable with himself yet = he won't risk telling just anybody - he really needs that trust, before opening up 100% sexually. MARS CONJUNCT/TRINE/SEXTILE URANUS can be really into phone sex/getting off from videos, & pictures2📹📱💻. These people can also get sexually aroused outta nowhere, or they just suddenly feel the need 2get off, NOW. These people can love the most unused sex positions, they can even invent a sex position of their own - they like it more when they're the ones creating. JUPITER CONJUNCT/SQUARE NYMPHE ASTEROID - 875 can show a person wanting to have sex/get sexual/get off A LOT. Like, If they could = they would probably fuck their whole life away😭😂. No but fr, they can be really really fixated on gratification/sex in general.

5TH HOUSE is that passionate, fun, & "casual/dating sex". 8TH HOUSE is that deep intimate soul merging/transformative sex.

LUST ASTEROID - 4386 CONJUNCT NORTH NODE = people whose life purpose is part of exploring their sexual urges/desires, really figuring that out4 themselves, since it's not common for them with the opposition 2 South Node - it's something completely NEW 2 them! They can feel so uncomfortable with baring themselves in the beginning, but once they get going, &get comfortable = new kind of confidence unlocked baby✅. MARS CONJUNCT/TRINE/SEXTILE WILD ASTEROID - 1941 can show a person being into some really unseen/wild shit when it comes 2 sex - getting sexual/or they're just wild in bed in general/can be the type 2 not really say no2 anything, unless they're just not that into u/or REALLY just not that into whatever thing they get asked about.

VENUS ASPECTING BLACK MOON LILITH are the ones being sexually attracted 2 people from a different "class"/race/country/religion - or they can feel sexually attracted 2 people they shouldn't really feel a sexual attraction2 sometimes - "taboo shit".

MARS IN 5TH HOUSE can be a big fan of casual sex/friends with benefits arrangements/or be a big fan of having sex with date partners before the date ends/or ofc just a fan of fucking around4fun. MARS IN 8TH HOUSE do not fuck4fun, or for casualty. They need a soul/deep connection with someone 1st. They don't give out their sexual energy freely like that - u have 2 prove you're worthy 1st - whatever they deem that is. Time doesn't matter here - it's about the connection, & the intimacy - so they could easily have sex with someone on the 1st night, but there HAS 2 be some deep unexplainable connection of some kind! - Which rarely happens 4 these natives.

5TH HOUSE RULER IN 7TH HOUSE are usually the dating 2 marry type, & they're also the ones that can wait with having sex until marriage. 5TH HOUSE RULER IN 11TH HOUSE can date/get into "love affairs" with people they're friends with/with friends friends/step siblings friends/with people they collaborate with/meet online/or with people they meet through mutual shared causes! VENUS/JUNO IN 5TH HOUSE can show a person mostly dating around, not really committing 100% a lot - &when they do find somebody2 commit2 = if they break up, they're usually out dating around again pretty fast - "the best way 2 get over someone, is 2 get under someone else". NORTH NODE IN 5TH HOUSE can show that exploring one's sexuality/exploring pleasures/desires while dating/dating around is part of one's life purpose.

WOMEN WITH KLETT ASTEROID - 2199 IN VIRGO can be REALLY picky when it comes 2 who they let hit/get sexual with🙅🏼‍♀️ - That's also why they can be quite inexperienced at times. Masturbation isn't really a thing they care about either, - usually. Very into the health/cleanliness of their vagina.

MEN WITH DICK ASTEROID - 17458 IN CANCER got that safe, & secure boyfriend dick💋. U know what u get almost every time, AFTER the 1st time - so you're never left disappointed. MEN WITH DICK ASTEROID - 17458 IN CAPRICORN Can be very "clumsy" sexually/in the sexual department throughout their teenage years/young adult years - but they're usually sexually "advanced" at around 30-35 years of age💚.

MEN WITH DICK ASTEROID - 17458 IN AQUARIUS = def not a basic boyfriend dick. Something about it can be alien like - not in a bad way, daddy chill😭😂😂. But the length, the thickness, the way it stands when erected/or simply the look of it in general IS DIFFERENT. Not a basic dick, okay. Appreciate it! MEN WITH SATURN CONJUNCT/TRINE/QUINTILE DICK ASTEROID - 17458 can show them holding forever in bed💀😭😂 - Can also show that they're talented at withholding themselves from cumming!🫰🏼 Also pretty good self esteem when it comes2their dick usually.

MEN WITH SATURN SQUARE/QUINCUNX DICK ASTEROID - 17458 can show performing issues - problems with getting erections/feeling bad about their dick - self esteem issues/or issues with cumming2fast.

THANKS4READING BABE!! APPRECIATE U, ALWAYS!💜

[fluentmoviequoter]

Christmas Magic

hot cocoa bar celebration🧤❄️🎄

requested here! & inspired by Finding Santa (2017)

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!(event planner)!reader

Summary: Your Christmas charity dinner is threatened when Santa quits at the last minute. Tim Bradford is the only person you know who is free days before Christmas, but it will take some magic to make him agree to put on the suit.

Warnings/Word Count: fluff, brief angst, quick mention of harassment, mistletoe and magic. 3.5k+ words.

I rented the center, tables with chairs are being delivered at noon, and catering arrives at 4. Got that. Santa, gifts, check, check.

You turn away from your computer to make a note about contacting the pediatrics hospital administrator. With your phone tucked between your cheek and shoulder, you’d nearly forgotten that you were supposed to be listening to James, the older gentleman playing Santa at the fundraising event you’ve been planning since September.

“I’m so sorry to cancel on you last minute,” James says.

Barely managing to catch your phone as you jerk in shock, you repeat his words in your mind. “Cancel? James, I’m sorry, did I hear that correctly?”

“Yes, ma’am, I’ve been fighting this rotator cuff for years and it finally won out on me. I know it’s last minute, but I can’t safely perform the Santa duties.”

“Okay, okay,” you mumble, pressing your forehead into your hand. “I understand, and I hope you feel better. I’m just not sure where I’m supposed to find another Santa days before the event, this close to Christmas.”

“If I hear of anybody who’s available, I’ll send ‘em your way.”

“Thanks.”

You end the call and stare at your computer screen. There is absolutely no way you can find someone – someone decent, at least – to play Santa Clause in three days. The event is on December 23rd, Christmas Eve-Eve, and it was hard enough to book James so close to Christmas Day.

“Oh, I’m gonna need a Christmas miracle,” you whisper as you reach for your mug.

A bell jingles outside, and you close your eyes. If only an angel capable of playing Santa were getting its wings.

“Are you okay?” your assistant, Holly, asks from the doorway.

“Not even a little bit,” you answer with a stressed smile. “We need a new Santa.”

“In less than a week?” she exclaims, setting a stack of papers on your desk. “How are you going to do that?”

“I have no idea. I could do open auditions, but then we’re just going to get all of the crazy people desperate for a Christmas gig in here, and I can’t sort through applications or anything with everything else going on,” you ramble before taking a breath. “Any chance you have a cousin, brother, dad, or a neighbor without a criminal record who could help me out?”

“My folks are traveling for the holidays and all of my neighbors are girls. Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine. We just… we have to think of something. Preferably by the end of today.”

“If anyone can pull together some Christmas magic it’s you,” Holly assures. “I’ll go make some calls and let me know if there’s anything else I can do to help.”

“Thanks, Hols.”

As she leaves, you open your phone and scroll through your contacts. Each name makes you a little more discouraged. Most of them are busy with families, out of town, completely unqualified, or you haven’t spoken to them in so long that you can’t justify asking for something like this, even if it is for the kids.

“It’s all I want for Christmas,” you whisper as you near the end of your list.

One name jumps out at you, but you hesitate to contact him. He might have to work or be coming off of a hectic holiday shift on the 23rd. But you’re running out of options, so you text Tim Bradford to ask if he’s free. The phone rings a moment later, and you answer immediately.

“No, don’t- Chen!” Tim scolds.

“Uh, hello?” you greet.

“Hi!” a woman replies. “My name is Lucy Chen, I’m Tim’s rookie. You asked if he was free on the 23rd and I’m calling to say that he absolutely is.”

“Good, good,” you reply, chewing your bottom lip. “I actually have a really big – huge – favor to ask him, so maybe I’ll call him back later.”

“What is it?” Tim asks.

“Uhm,” you hum, trying to find the right words. “I need someone to play Santa at the charity event for the Children’s Hospital Los Angeles and UCLA’s pediatric department.”

“I… can’t,” Tim says after a moment.

“He means he won’t,” Lucy adds.

Your shoulders drop as you murmur, “Okay. Bye.”

After you hang up, you realize that Tim Bradford is your only chance. If he really won't do it, you either have to put a woman in the Santa suit and hope for the best or disappoint every child and parent in attendance by announcing at the last minute that Santa can’t make it. You’re stuck between a rock and a hard place, but at least the diner down the street has good hot chocolate that will help you get your mind off it for a few minutes. You wave at Holly on your way out, then try to think of exciting, merry, and bright things rather than the coming disappointment as you walk to your favorite diner. As you enter, you notice three men sitting in the booth closest to the door, but they’re the kind of men you know you wouldn’t invite to be in the same room with wealthy women or children, let alone both at the same time.

“Robbery in progress at Vicksen’s Diner,” dispatch alerts. “Callers report three armed men, and one is blocking the main entrance.”

“7-Adam-19 responding, code 3,” Tim radios before hitting the lights and sirens.

“Vixen’s Diner?” Lucy repeats. “They must really like Christmas.”

“V-i-c-k-s-e-n,” Tim corrects. “It’s the last name, the family has owned the place for decades. The call you intercepted earlier?”

“What about her?”

“She’s probably there. It’s her favorite place and they have Christmas specials right now.”

“How do you know that?”

“Focus, Chen,” Tim snaps as he turns the sirens off. “We’re approaching the rear exit without a sound, understood? Our priority is to get these people safe, then and only then do we go after the robbers.”

“Yes, sir,” Lucy agrees.

“I don’t have any more cash,” the owner explains again. “It’s the twenty-first century, genius, most of our business is card or tap-to-pay.”

“And it’s Christmas,” you add from your booth. “Just go.”

“Not until I get something!” the man screams.

“How about a one-way trip to jail?” someone adds. “We already called the police.”

“Then pay up or they’ll have a body,” one of the other robbers says, turning their gun toward the customer.

Someone clicks their tongue, and you look over to see Tim Bradford and who you assume to be Lucy Chen standing behind the counter.

“LAPD,” Tim says. “Weapons down, hands up, or your Christmas is going to be even worse.”

The man closest to the counter tightens his grip on his gun, then curses and drops it as he raises his hands.

“I recommend you follow his lead,” Lucy tells the man beside you.

“Open the door,” Tim dares the final man. “My partner out there would love to lay you out.”

All three men surrender, and you watch Tim as he cuffs and zip-ties them while his rookie calls for backup.

“You said you had a partner out there!” the men complain.

“I lied,” Tim says as he stands. “You should know what it’s like.”

Three more patrol cars park outside, and officers take the would-be thieves out of the diner as Lucy checks on the owner and the other patrons. When Tim walks to your table, you lean back and look at him.

“I really need your help,” you explain. “It’s one night and you’d get paid.”

“It’s not about the money,” Tim replies. “Are you okay?”

“Then what is it about?” you press. “We both know you’re great with your nephews even if you hate to admit it. It’s only a few hours of asking kids what they want for Christmas, a few pictures, and then- then I’ll buy you dinner, whatever you want.”

“Why are you asking so close to the event?”

“Because I already had a Santa, but he tore his rotator cuff and backed out on me at the last minute. You know I wouldn’t ask something like this unless I really needed it.”

Tim nods, though he’s wondering why he is the one you’ve chosen to show your persistence and desperation to. Surely, you know other men capable of wearing an uncomfortable polyester suit and saying ho, ho, ho.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Tim points out. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. One of them pushed me out of the way, but-“

Tim moves closer to you and bends to look into your eyes. His gaze moves over your face before catching on the slightly red area against the side of your neck.

“You sure?” he whispers.

You nod and smile before you push past him to exit the booth. “I have to get back to work and find a Santa or break hundreds of hearts. Be safe, Tim.”

Tim watches you walk toward the door, and Lucy’s eyes widen as she gestures wildly toward you.

“I’ll do it,” Tim calls. He tells himself it’s because you’re so persistent and seem stressed, but deep down, he knows there is more to it than that.

“You don’t have to,” you say as you face him. “Don’t do something that’s going to make you miserable just because I need help.”

“I’ll do it,” he repeats. “Text me the details?���

“How ‘bout I just pick you up on the 23rd? Around noon?” you reply.

“Sure.”

“Thank you, Tim,” you say with your hand on the door. “You’ll never know how much this means to everyone… to me.”

Tim nods as you leave to return to work, and Lucy claps silently.

“Get in the shop, boot,” he demands.

“You look nice,” you compliment when Tim opens his door the morning of the event. “The red suits you.”

Tim swallows as he looks at you and says, “You don’t have to butter me up, I already said yes.”

“I’m just calling it how I see it,” you assure him.

“I thought this thing didn’t start until 4,” Tim muses as he locks his door and follows you to the car.

“It doesn’t, but we have to get the Santa suit fitted. If you want to leave after and come back at 3, you can take my car.”

Tim shrugs and buckles his seat belt. When you turn the radio to a Christmas station, Tim immediately switches it to a football show. Your jaw drops as you turn toward him.

“You don’t like Christmas music?” you ask incredulously.

“I just don’t think it’s okay to give someone 23 birds,” he explains.

“My car,” you argue when he reaches for the control.

“My Santa debut,” he replies.

You give up and back out of his driveway with an exaggerated scoff.

“Why do you want me to be Santa anyway? I get that you had to ask people you know but I’m clearly not jolly enough.”

“Why is that?” you inquire. “I can understand not loving the music or the commercialism. The rest of it, though, that’s what I don’t get.”

“Just… don’t love the holidays. Reminds me of the things I don’t have anymore, I guess.”

Glancing at Tim, you wonder what it feels like to be someone’s for the holidays. Yes, it’s hard to be jolly when you miss someone, but for a moment, you wonder what it would be like to listen to carolers and decorate the tree while being in love.

“What’s this event like?” Tim asks, pulling you from your thoughts. “Been working on it long?”

“Since September,” you answer. “It’s geared toward the kids, but we have to do something to get the parents in too, so there’s raffles, a silent auction, dinner, and an area where they can sit with each other while someone else watches their kids.”

“So, it’s for donors?”

“At first,” you explain. “The donors are welcome to come anytime between 4 and 7. Then, we make everything absolutely perfect and bring in the kids from the hospitals at 8. They get more time with Santa, more gifts and games and treats. I know we have to raise a lot of money, but it’s not worth it if the kids don’t get to have fun with it too.”

“You’re really good at this,” Tim compliments, looking at you. “I didn’t know how much you put into all of this.”

“Now you regret saying no at first, huh?” you tease.

“That depends on how good the cookies are.”

“Then why are you so nervous?” you ask as you pull into the event center’s parking lot.

“I’m not-“

“It’s hidden well, but it’s there, Tim. You know you’re good with kids, so don’t let the size of this get to you.”

“I’ll try.”

“And if you get overwhelmed, Santa can always take a cookie break. I’ll be around if you need anything.”

You wish Tim luck as you drop him off with the wardrobe designer you hired, then begin transforming the space into a winter wonderland.

“Are you okay?” Holly asks as you finish constructing the games for the children from the hospital.

“I came to ask the same,” Santa says from behind you.

You turn quickly and smile at the sight of Tim in the suit. His beard has been set aside while he takes a break, but something about seeing him this way feels right.

“I’m fine,” you assure them. “Rich people are hard to please, I’m used to it.”

“Nobody should get used to people screaming in their face because the caviar is room temperature,” Holly argues.

“Is that what it was about?” Tim asks with a humorless laugh.

“He got over it. I actually saw him eating the caviar later,” you say. “Besides, this is the part of the night I’m here for.”

“You’re an excellent Santa,” Holly tells Tim. “The kids went on and on about you.”

“Told you,” you sing song.

“Do I give gifts to every kid?” Tim asks you.

“Yes, give them as many as you want because we have more. The red candy cane paper is more girly gifts, blue snowflake paper is for boys, and the gingerbread paper is gender neutral,” you list. “The elves also have a list of what we have, so if a kid asks for something specific, someone can check for you.”

“You should’ve been a cop,” Tim muses. “I wish my boot could keep things this streamlined.”

“You need to get back to the Northpole,” Holly says, glancing at her watch. “Not that this isn’t adorable.”

“Tim,” you call as he walks away. “Thank you.”

“It’s the only thing you’re getting for Christmas!” he replies.

Holly smiles as she moves to your side, and you glare at her.

“A gorgeous man wrapped in a Santa suit,” she muses. “You got every girl’s dream gift.”

“He isn’t mine,” you remind her.

“Christmas seems like the perfect time to change that.”

“Excuse me?” a young girl asks.

“Hello,” you greet, smiling as you squat beside her. “What’s your name?”

“Sally,” she answers. “Will you go with me to see Santa?”

“Of course!” You offer your hand and lead Sally through the crowds of happy children and grateful parents to get in line to see Santa. “What are you asking for this year?”

“I want a Hug-Wave,” she says softly, wrapping both her hands around yours.

“What’s that?”

“It’s twin stuffed animals, and when you hug one, it sends a hug to the other. I want to give my brother one so I can send him hugs when I have to stay in the hospital. He’s coming to see me on Christmas, but I miss him.”

Your eyes tear up, and you smile at Sally as you move forward in line. “I’m sure Santa will bring you one,” you assure her. “Look, we’re next!”

“You’ll stay with me?”

“Of course, Sally.”

As you walk onto the red carpet platform, Tim looks at you before looking at Sally. You mouth her name, and Tim calls, “Ho, ho, ho, Merry Christmas, Sally!”

“You know my name?” she asks softly, stopping beside his knees.

“Santa knows all of the good boys’ and girls’ names, and you, Sally, are on my nice list!”

“Do you want to sit on his lap?” you ask Sally.

She nods but keeps her hand firmly in yours. You move to Tim’s side as he pulls her onto his leg and blink to get the tears out of your eyes as Sally tells Santa about the hugging stuffed animal she wants to stay close to her brother.

“I think you and your brother would love that, Sally,” Tim says. “I’ll tell my elves about your wish, and we’ll work on that.”

“Thank you, Santa,” Sally says before pulling her hand from yours and hugging Tim.

You wipe your face before taking Sally’s hand and leading her to pin the nose on Rudolph, where she plays with kids like she didn’t just tug your heartstrings. Turning to check on everything, you notice that the Santa chair is empty, and the elves are entertaining the children in line. Less than a minute later, Tim returns and continues to visit children and parents alike.

“Psst!” someone calls.

You furrow your brows as you turn, and when you see Lucy, your eyes widen in shock.

“Santa asked me to bring you this,” she whispers as she slips a large gift bag through the door. “Care to be an elf for me?”

“Thank you,” you tell her. “I’ll take it to him now.”

“It looks amazing in here!”

“You’re welcome to stay, Lucy.”

You walk toward the North Pole area and tap an elf’s shoulder to take the gift to Tim. He excuses himself after the last child and walks to your side with the bag in his hand.

“Where’s Sally?” he whispers in your ear.

You look up at him and feel your tears building again as you say, “Tim–”

“I’m Santa tonight.”

You locate Sally sitting at a table with her parents and brother and eating a cupcake. Following behind Tim, you press your hand over your mouth as he kneels beside her and offers the bag. Her parents look at one another in shock as she removes the bears from the bag, then mouth their gratitude to Tim. Sally passes her brother a bear, and they begin hugging them to hug one another, and you decide this is the Christmas miracle you hoped to see.

Tim exits the small dressing room in the back hallway and doesn’t see you before you wrap your arms around his neck to hug him.

“Thank you,” you whisper against his neck. “For being Santa and for giving Sally the gift.”

Tim tightens his arms around your waist before you pull back. “It’s the least I could do,” he deflects with a shrug.

“No, it isn’t,” you insist. “I talked to Sally’s parents. They can barely afford gas to go back and forth to work and the hospital right now because one of them has to stay with her full-time because of her treatment. That’s why her brother can’t visit much.”

“Is she…”

“The doctors are hopeful that her current treatment is working,” you assure him. “They’re expecting to send her home sometime in the spring if she continues improving. Tim, you made their entire year.”

“You deserve some of that credit.”

“You pulled off a Christmas miracle, it’s all yours.”

“Does that mean you’ll tell me why you chose to ask me to be Santa?” Tim asks with a smile. His hands are still on your waist, but you’re dreading the moment when he steps back.

“Because I knew you could do it,” you answer. “You’re the only person I know that is kind and generous, selfless without letting people know it, and even if you get mad at me for saying it, you are kind and a big softie. You’re special, Tim Bradford, and a gentleman, and the closest thing I’ve seen to magical in a very long time. That’s why I asked and kept asking.”

“Well, you’re the closest thing I’ve seen to Mrs. Claus… ever,” he replies lightly.

“Without the time to bake and ‘Mrs.’ you mean.”

Tim shakes his head and asks, “Who helped you decorate?”

“Holly, mostly. Why?”

Lifting his chin, Tim gestures to the mistletoe hanging from the ceiling.

“It’s tradition,” you begin.

“You don’t have to convince me,” Tim interrupts.

He moves a hand from your waist to your cheek and kisses you. It feels like fireworks, warm hot chocolate, and every good and magical thing you can think of all at once. You move your hands to Tim’s jaw and move together, then pull back to thank him again.

“Thank you for calling Lucy and getting Sally’s gift here so quickly.”

Tim’s brow pinches as he says, “I didn’t call Lucy. I thought you got the gift here for her?”

You shake your head, then ask, “Well if you didn’t order it, and I didn’t order it, which Santa asked Lucy to bring it?”

Tim hesitates before he says, “It couldn’t…”

“There you are!” Holly calls as she enters the hallway. “I could not find this entrance, geez. Oh, hey, mistletoe!”

“You didn’t put this up?” you ask her.

“Me? No, I don’t even know where to buy mistletoe. That made me sound so single.”

You look at Tim, who smiles and whispers, “Christmas magic,” as he leans in again.

[wednesdaynn]

birthday special

A/N: HI! omg it's my birthday and i thought i'd write a little special something from myself to you, as i'll be spending my birthday alone. So here is a little special poly!marauders smutty fic to make myself happy and not dread this awful day.

i also got a cake with the faces of multiple celebrities i love, including the OG fancasts... so

not edited, not even double checked or rewritten, i did this in 3 days and expected it to only be around 2000 words, so it might be awfull, dont blame me

This is also uploaded 9 hours after scheduled time but shhh

word count: 4388

warnings: reader who feels left out and sad on her birthday/ foursome, oral sex, penatrative sex, awkward positions and understanding lovers, dirty talk, slight overwhelming feelings so a bit of crying.

pairing: poly!marauders x fem!reader

It's eerily quiet in the great hall. lunch time had just passed and most of the students were spending their time outside in the great fields outside of the castle. Spring break was coming to an end and most of ‘em filled their last couple of free days soaking up the sunlight outside, a rare occurrence in scotland. except for your friends, who had been all over the place since that morning. you suppose you had been slightly jealous towards them. Every time it was someone's birthday they made sure to plan something that would interest the birthday person. 

For Lily's birthday, you had spent the evening outside after dark playing in the snow and staying up all night in the boys dorm, drinking wine and gossiping. Remus' birthday was perfect, it had fallen on a sunday, giving you guys the entire day to do nothing except to annoy Remus, plan pranks and sneak into the kitchen to eat until you guys couldn’t . For james’ you guys had planned an entire party that lasted through all the night. 

But this morning you woke up to everyone rushing around. You had thought that because it was spring break there would be a lot of time to hang out with the lot, but to your surprise, you got a kiss on the cheek from your girl friends, and your boyfriends had to get up for quidditch practice early and stayed until lunch. They wished you a happy birthday and let you unpack your presents at the breakfast table. but the celebrations were soon pushed aside for more important tasks, such as studying. 

since breakfast you hadn’t seen anyone, the first hour after breakfast spent in the common room reading a book, you had soon grown bored. you went to the library to study but found it to be too crowded with most of the students cramming for their latest exams. the hot weather tearing them down. and right before lunch you headed outside to join Hagrid in feeding the latest creature he had brought home with him. both of you working in silence. 

But lunch rolled around and you hadn't seen any of your friends. When you walked into the great hall, your boyfriends were just on their way to return to the dorms to take a long awaited shower, while Remus and Peter joined them to finish the last part of their essay. 

And you know there was an open invitation to join them. they always made sure to let you know you are welcome there, even Peter had let you know he enjoys your company, more than the boys he had said. but you didn’t want to intrude on their tasks. you already felt like you were overreacting and the boys knew you too well. you knew they’d worry about you and set their own things aside to make sure you’re okay, but you didn’t want them to do that, feeling like a burden. 

you push yourself up from the table and swing your legs over the bench. with no idea what to do the rest of the day you make your way back up to your room, checking the last couple of assignments off of your to-do list, watering the plants, stoking the fire in the room when the evening chill started to roll around and the sun had disappeared behind the clouds. you had picked up your book again, but to no avail. you were bored, extremely. and you don’t hold it against your friends, knowing that they have things to do as well since classes are starting soon again. but you had spent the entire spring break hanging out almost every day, and the one day that was important to you, they couldn’t. 

you felt left behind. turning around one more time on your bed, you let out a sigh of annoyance. Another birthday spent doing nothing, another birthday spent alone, another birthday spent depressed. you had learned your lesson the past couple of years not expecting much. but it was your last year at Hogwarts, your last year spent with friends. you had hoped this year would be different. not a quick ‘happy birthday, and we’ll see you again tonight when we are already half asleep.’ 

Was it unfair to think that way? yes, but you couldn’t care at the moment. you were feeling lonely and bored. but you picked yourself up enough to at least head  to dinner, where you were greeted with all of your friends sitting together, laughing and having fun. you walked over to Remus and sat beside him quietly, giving him a tight lipped smile while he kissed you on your temple and put his hand on your thigh. 

The entirety of dinner had been spent in silence while your friends talked. they had tried to get you to join the conversation, but your energy had been drained from the constant worrying the entire day. the hand on your thigh had left when Remus had to start eating, but the second he was done it was around your waist pulling you in closer.

"You wanna talk?” he whispered into your ear, his hot breath a comfort on your neck. you looked up at him and shook your head softly with a thin smile, not quite reaching your eyes. the thumb on your waist moves ever so slightly, rubbing comforting circles into your skin. Remus hymned and turned back to his friends, his hand not leaving your side. 

When they finished with their meal, Remus slid his arm back and grabbed your hand to bring you along with him. you walked along with your friends, every so often listening in on their conversation. you followed them up onto the moving stairs but only raised your head when you passed the door to the gryffindor common room. Remus let out a soft chuckle, his grip on your hand getting tighter. you walked after him as he dragged you up more and more stairs.

entering the top corridor the girls giggle as they open up one of the doors to an empty classroom, and Peter walks up to you, circling around until he puts his hands in front of your eyes and covers them. you let out an annoyed sigh, but smile nonetheless. Remus leads your hand further into the room where he leaves you waiting.

you tap your foot impatiently and Peter clicks his tongue in response. you hear slight rustling in the background and Marlene and Sirius whispering, although it’s louder than they probably intend to, seeing as they are bickering about godric knows what. but the noises slowly die down and someone is back at your side again holding onto your right hand. 

Peter slowly slid his hands away from your face and in front of you laid a couple of blankets with candles and a bunch of food and drinks on the floor. the tables and chairs had been pushed to the side. you look to your right seeing James and squeezing onto his hand tighter, giving him a grateful smile. He lets go of your hand and wraps it around your waist, pulling you into him. 

your eyes stare in awe at the scene in front of you. your friends standing around you with a happy smile. Mary shakes out her hands and squeals and before she can contain herself, she runs over to you and envelopes both you and James in a tight hug. 

“didn’t think we’d forget now, huh love?” you shake your head and she pulls back from your embrace holding your face in her hands. “Happy birthday sweetheart.” you give her a sweet smile and they both release, just far enough for your other friends to congratulate you. 

pulling back from all the hugs, you all make your way down to the middle of the room, filled with sweets. sitting cross-legged on the blanket across from your friends, squished between your boyfriends, you felt slightly guilty.

you couldn’t believe you thought they were capable of forgetting, or just not wanting to celebrate your birthday. or thinking they didn’t know you well enough to know how you wanted to spend your birthday. you silently scold yourself on your mistrust towards your boys and try to focus back on the scene in front of you. 

you lean into James’ embrace next to you while he puts his arm around your shoulder and try to relax into it as much as possible. “Thank you, darling,” you whisper to him. “I love it.” he just winks and holds you tighter. 

The night carries on with lots of laughter while you stuff your mouths with a bunch of food and the alcohol, which you can only assume Sirius and Mary took care of. it was getting late and everyone was relatively tipsy, you all decided it was best to head up back to bed. standing up from Sirius’ lap, all of you stumbled your way back down all the stairs and into the common room, getting dirty looks from the paintings. He held onto your waist tightly as you walked up towards the boys’ dormitory. 

taking off your shoes next to the door, you walk over to the fireplace in the centre of the room, stoking the fire with a spell, instantly warming the room. You watch as you see your boys make their way over to the bathroom individually. Coming out with pyjamas and brushed teeth, the padding of their socked feet towards their beds. You quickly ascend to the bathroom yourself, the stressful day had made you quite tired, and the slight state of drunkenness you were in didn’t help either. 

You quickly took off your makeup and brushed out your hair and teeth. Getting out of your clothes and putting on your pyjamas. You lean your head down and take a sip of water from the faucet and make your way back to their dormitory. Getting into Remus' bed you sit cross legged on the cover. 

“I’m sorry if i acted odd tonight, i loved what you guys did for me, honestly. It was the best birthday.” you say softly. Sirius's face contorts into one of confusion and he cocks his head up towards you. “What are you talking about, love?” James crosses over from his bed to yours and leans against the bedpost, his arms crossed on his chest. 

“You were fine sweetheart, but if something is bothering you, you know you can always talk about it with us right?” you nod and give James a soft smile. Remus pats your thigh. 

“Come’ere.”  you climb up higher on the bed and throw your leg over his lap, making eye contact with your lover. He gives you a soft peck on your forehead and his thumb draws circles into your waist. You feel a dip in the mattress behind you and feel Sirius his hand brush the hair away from your neck and shoulder, leaving soft peck along the neckline of your pyjama shirt. You lean into their embrace and let out a soft sigh.

You see James get on the bed on the other side of you and look over at him. “You want us to take care of you? Or do you just want to cuddle until we fall asleep?” you’re already letting go of your inhibitions while in the hold of your boyfriends, and you know they will take care of you. 

“Take care of me please.” you let out softly, looking up at him with sweet eyes. He gives you an adorning smile and a kiss on the cheek. 

Remus his hands slowly slip under your shirt, rubbing the skin underneath. He spreads his hands across your back, “lean back for me sweetheart.” Sirius whispers in your ear as his lips ghost across your jawline. You look at Remus and he nods at you, he holds you as you lean back into Sirius his arms, your shoulders resting on his chest. 

Sirius his hands move down towards the hem of your shirt and slowly inches it upwards. His knuckles grazing your skin, leaving behind goosebumps as his cold hands touch you. He moves until he reached the underside of your boobs. 

“Can i, love?” you nod as best as you can. He lifts the shirt over your breasts and skims his hands over them, brushing along your nipples and pinching them slightly. You let out a soft sigh at the contact and look away from his movements and make eye contact with Remus who winks at you. He gestures over at James to get closer and you feel James moving on the bed as he leans down on your level.

He softly brushes some stray hairs away from your face and leans in closer kissing your lips softly. You fully let go in the embrace of your lovers doting on you and your body. The kiss quickly turns a lot more fierce and you realise in this position both of your bodies have to contort to kiss properly, so James makes his way down your body, jaw, neck, clavicle bones, and just under your shirt where Sirius pulls his hands away to give James free reign to pleasure you. 

James leaves wet kisses all on your breast, and soft bites around your nipples leaving slight marks all over your chest. He finally wraps his lips around your left nipple and sucks lightly. You let out a moan at his administration and he groans around your nipples, heat flows down your body. 

Sweat starts to form on your forehead and you notice how much of a strain your body is being put on being in this position. You move your hand to tug on Remus' arms.

“You like how he’s making you feel darling?” you nod but a slight grimace pulls at your face. “This position, baby, it’s slightly uncomfortable, I'm sorry.” you apologise to them. Sirius tuts behind you and moves his hands behind your shoulder blades to give you some elevation to get up properly. 

Being sat back on Remus' lap, he slowly lifts you up from off of his lap and moves you next to him on the bed, the spot James was previously occupying. Sitting up on the bed you roll your shoulder around, letting the tight spots ease. You remove your shirt entirely from your body and Sirius softly pushes at your sternum, easing you onto your back, your head resting on the pillows. 

James resumes his former position, leaning over you and softly kissing your chest and upwards, now finally having the space to kiss your neck and leave marks all over. Sirius, who is still sitting between your legs, ghosts his hands across your stomach and reaches the waistband of your pyjama pants. He hooks his fingers underneath the band and glides them across your waist, teasing you. 

You panting beneath them, wishing they would just do more. Having 3 boyfriends and still not getting where you need them seems pathetic, but Remus just finds your frustrations comical and sweet. He puts his hand on your forehead and strokes the top of your head. 

Sirius his hands finally make their way down when he pulls down your pants and underwear at the same time, helping you lift your hips and pulling them all the way down your legs and throwing them next to the bed. You have half a mind to tell him it’s gross to leave clothes lying on the floor, but James his lips are back on your nipples and thinking straight with them is just too difficult. 

He brushes his hands on your calves, massaging them and pushing them up, leaving your knees bent. You feel Remus’ hands skim across your stomach downwards, a ghost of a touch on your mound leaving goosebumps in his wake. 

“Please, Rem?” with the comforting touch of Sirius’ hands on your calves, soothing you into a deeper rest, you can’t help but beg for Remus to touch you. 

“Since it’s your birthday, sweetheart, I'll go easy on you.” His voice sounds rough, but he complies immediately. His middle finger and ring finger skim over your slit collecting wetness from your core and he circles your clit with them. You whine, the touch of James his lips and teeth on your nipple and Remus his light circular movements on your bundle of nerves, makes you set alight. 

They’re barely doing anything, but it’s making you let out all sorts of noises you’ll probably be embarrassed about tomorrow, but for now you couldn’t care, knowing it only eggs your partners on further. 

Remus his fingers slowly move down to your hole circling it, teasing it, before finally pushing on finger in slowly. He eases it into you, taking his time, moving it in and out slowly. He watches your face intently. Making sure to catch any noise you let out, and face you make and any sign of unease. He sees your hands grab onto the blanket and takes it as his queue to add a second finger. 

No matter how many times the four of you have sex, the stretch never gets any easier. You scrunch your face up slightly. “Am i good to continue, or do you need a second?” he asks, and you have half a mind to tell him to shut up and continue, but you find it so endearing how caring he still is. “You’re good to continue, baby, was just a pinch.” he nods and continues pushing into you, but this time at a much slower pace, taking extra caution. 

Once he feels you’re rightly accommodated to the stretch, he starts pumping in slowly again. Taking his time dragging his fingers against your walls, your pussy quivering around his fingers. You feel every drag with his slow pace, the way he barely misses your g-spot. 

Your hand curls around his wrist and he gives you a smirk. “You want more, baby?” he hymns at you.  You just nod to the best of your ability. He increases his pace, only ever so slightly making you whine. You liked when he teased, but it was god damn frustrating. 

Your nails scratch at his wrist and pull at his hand hoping to speed it up even more, but Remus is relentless in giving you what you want. He makes a tsks noise, hoping to tell you off, but he sees the desperate look on your face and he almost gives in.

“Be good for me baby, and you’ll get what you want.” you nodded fervently at him. James leaves a peck on your cheek and makes his way over to your lips, kissing you with renowned vigour. Tongue sliding in your mouth. 

You feel the butterflies in your stomach making rounds at the slow pace, not enough to make you cum, but it leaves you teetering on the edge. Sirius moves closer to you, your legs on either side of his hips. He slowly takes off his shirt, making it a show for you. He leans down to give a kiss on your knee and pushes himself down onto the bed, laying down on his stomach in between you. 

Remus makes a move to take his fingers out of you, but the hand that’s on his wrist holds him there. 

“Sweetheart, let go, Sirius wants to make you feel good, don’t you wanna cum?” he asks in such an endearing voice. You moan into James’ mouth and he takes it as a queue to lean back and observe. You whine for him, wanting to feel the taste of his lips back on your once more, but he just gives you a sympathetic smile and mouths an apology at you. 

Sirius begins by slowly kissing up and down the inside of your thigh. He sucks onto the skin leaving marks behind, maroons and reds splotched all over your legs, small indentations of bite marks etched into your skin. He kisses the juncture between your thigh and mound and puts his thumbs onto your vulva.

His thumbs spread your lips apart and he lets out a groan at the sight, wetness covering your entire pussy, your hole quivering from the need to cum. You feel a warmth spread over your face all the way down to your chest. He latches his lips onto your clit, sucking on it harshly. 

“Holy fuck.” he hums around your bundle of nerves making electricity shoot up. He agrees with your sentiment. You were on edge form cumming the whole time Remus was fingering you, and this just shoots you right over the edge. Your hands make their way downwards, grabbing onto Sirius his long hair and pulling, hard. He lets out a moan at the roughness and scrapes his teeth against your clit. You give a short warning before your orgasm takes full control. You scratch at his scalp as you pull, as Sirius pulls you through the afterwaves of your orgasm. You feel your chest going up and down, heaving. 

Sirius gives a loving pat on your inner thigh before moving up again, and getting off of the bed, standing next to James on the left side of the bed. You look over at them and you feel Remus, who is still sitting beside you on the bed, take your hand and grab onto it. 

James scurries out of his clothes, first his shirt, revealing his toned chest from quidditch. Then his pyjama pants. You see Sirius next to him gulp as James’ cock springs up. James his face contorts into a look of proudness. A smirk plastered onto his face. He resumes his movements and gets onto the bed taking Sirius his former position between your legs. He spits onto the palm of his hand and strokes his cock slowly. 

“You ready, doll?” he asks you before inching closer. You let out a soft please and he strokes his cock up and down your slit. Gathering your wetness before slowly pressing into you. He inches in closer and closer, taking his time with you, letting you get adjusted to the stretch of his cock. 

You breathe in deeply, in through your nose, out through your mouth. Taking the time to enjoy the moment and feel the intimacy with your lovers. Remus who is feeling up your breasts, encompassing them with his hands and squeezing them, pinching your nipples and rolling them between his thumb. 

Sirius is still by your side, holding your hand and stroking his thumb up and comforting you. His other hand pushing away fly hairs and stroking your head, creating a soft moment between you both. Looking up at him, you can see the love and adoration in his eyes and he gives you a sweet smile. 

James’ hands rest on your waist, pressing into the skin there, you know he’s trying to hold himself back, but he’s trying to be considerate, your sweet boy. 

“It’s okay James, please.” you give him an encouraging nod and he stares at you for a while, trying to see if you are truly okay. Finding no resistance, he pushes further in almost bottoming out inside of you. He inches out slowly and pushes back in with careful intention, making sure to make you feel every drag slide against your walls. Hearing the lewd sounds the two of you make, feeling your hole contract around him. 

You both let out a sigh of relief at the sensation followed by a deep moan. He makes sure to hit you deep and slowly, dragging the sensations out. All that you feel, everything you feel coursing through your body is love. Undevoted love. Enveloped by your boyfriends, taking care of you in the way that you need. 

It encompasses your very being and you feel yourself tune out everything around you except for the feeling of safety, the pleasure of their comfort. Peace. You know they see it, see how you’re feeling, or maybe they even feel it themselves, because Sirius is squeezing tighter around your hand and Remus gives intentional soft strokes around your breast. It makes you want to cry and release every emotion you’ve felt for a while. Wanting to cry out in pure ecstasy. 

“It’s okay, you’re safe with us.” Remus tells you and you let a single tear drop when you squeeze your eyes shut. A silent ‘fuck’ leaves your mouth and your eyebrows scrunch together. They just hold you closer.

James picks up his pace slightly, his thumb moving to your clit, rolling circles on it with the pad of his finger, increasing the pleasure that shoots through your body. 

He digs his knees deeper into the mattress, laying the top of his feet flat on the bed and shifting his hips just ever so slightly, lowering them closer to the bed and his cock drags against your walls deliciously. 

James feels all his nerves being set on fire, feeling the tightening of your walls around him, the wetness making it so easy to glide in, and he feels the tip of his cock hit that spongy spot inside of you. Making you keen,

You lean your head back, releasing a loud moan. Your eyes shoot open and you grab at the bedsheet. Curling your toes and enclosing your thighs around James’ hips. You feel the familiar flare in the bottom of your stomach, the butterflies fluttering around. 

“Baby? Babes, I'm gonna cum, please.” you beg of James and he keeps repeatedly hitting your g-spot, keeping up the pace as before and tightening the circles he makes around your clit. He lets out a high pitched whine and looks down at where your bodies are connected, seeing your arousal around his cock, your hole pulsing around him. The stickiness on his thumb. 

Your breath hitches, Remus pinches your nipple, Sirius gives you a sweet kiss on your forehead and the soft strokes of James gives you everything you need to orgasm again. You squeeze tightly around James his cock and James hisses at the constriction, cumming just after you. He pumps in just a little bit longer, riding out both of your orgasms, until both of you become too sensitive. 

“You did so well darling, so beautiful for us, happy birthday baby.” 

(Down below my bday cake cuz y’all need to see it)

[izsheum]

how does one go about practicing on drawing mechs? like, how did you do it? I have no idea where to start aaah 😭😭 any advice would be so helpful

i have soooome notes but! truly it comes down to looking at a LOT of references! references and REPETITION!!! i swear i have dozens upon dozens of photos of characters pulled up when i start drawing. it gets easier with each time that you sketch ‘em i promise!!

(i also “cheat” a lot and look at my figures when i wanna put them in certain poses—this goes heavilyyyy for megatron LOL)

and i hate to sound like a broken record because i’m sure everyone says this…but truly i break them up into shapes! they really are just layers of geometric shapes layered on top of one another with pretty little details etched on top :)

this is kinda how i see their figures! these kinda forms are how all my drawings start out before i put the armor on top of them!

also important to remember that the inside structures of organic figures (bones/muscles/etc) are completely visible for mechs! you can see the joints and gears that bend at their knees/elbows/shoulders/hips/feet rather than them being hidden by skin and clothing. i think this is the part that i have the Most trouble with because it’s a lot of small moving parts layered together. forgive the messiness…i’m still learning myself honestly haha and this is all compiled after looking at a LOT of art and models and whatnot. included in this are hands…which have a Lot of the small exposed joints.

anywayyys that’s all i have in terms of general advice that i can give…if you have any specific questions feel free to ask! i am an open book and will do my best to answer with words or visuals lol

but really—just have fun with it! experiment and try try try again

[thejollywriter]

IT'S TIME TO LAUNCH THE BOOK

WELCOME FRIENDS, TO THE BEGINNING OF AN ADVENTURE! Allow me to introduce to you, DELILAH JONES; free-lance Robin Hood and bad-ass extraordinaire.

In the cyberpunk future of The Redwood Files, Delilah Jones is half film-noire private detective, and half western-gunslinger, who rides into a lawless town and fights the bullies and the bastards that hurt innocent folks.

This anthology contains SIX, count 'em SIX short stories and novellas detailing Delilah's Adventures.

Through a Dream, Lethally; When tech CEO Michael Lense decides to hijack the soft-RAM in his employees heads in order to make people do his bidding, things can get awful, FAST. Being forced, without your consent, to be an assassin or a thief or a sex worker, and more. But Lense also has the city under-thumb. Only Delilah's got the brute force to break Lense's control, and free the city from his cruel influence.

Happy Endings, Guaranteed; Delilah has a partner, and after a long day of nonsense, is looking forward to visiting them at work to unwind. Only to get to the club where her partner works, and discover that they've been KIDNAPPED! Delilah races around the city, squaring up with every underworld hard-ass she comes across following every lead to find her partner. Except nothing is what it seems, and a simple (but tragic) kidnapping turns out to be way more nefarious than Delilah expected. . .

Delilah's Heart; recovering from the last adventure weeks later, Delilah meets a handsome butch at a dive bar. Things between the two show promise, but the butch gets called back to work by an abusive bastard who violates and exploits his employees. The butch asks Delilah for help, and as she digs into it, discovers a deeply connected mafia bookmaker who uses that underground protection to kill and exploit people without fear of consequences. Delilah's the only one who can bring justice down on this bastard, but it threatens a gang war if she does. . .

Gutter Medicine; a gang of outta-town skinheads robs an impoverished clinic in a rough neighborhood. Delilah digs into the theft, and promises to recover the medicine, only to discover that the outta-towners are stirring up trouble to pave the way for an invasion from the South. A Kingpin from Los Angeles is hungry for expansion, and Redwood is fertile ground. Unless Delilah can stop the gang, and convince the Kingpin it'd be too expensive to expand beyond the safe borders of LA.

Restitution; Delilah's robbing a rich billionaire's museum-like mansion one night when she's caught by an unlikely sentry, a very old man who'd had plans of trying to embarrass the billionaire for reneging on a deal, and leaving the old man destitute. Delilah invites him to tell his story, and she volunteers to see justice done, according to Delilah's exacting standards.

In a Name?; every trans person's name comes from a personal place and an intimate choice. This story is about a young thief, with big dreams and a hard head, how she picked her name, and the day she was reborn into Delilah-fucking-Jones.

These stories have literally been years in the making. Some of them are personal, all of them are personal favorites, and this anthology is a collection I've worked very hard on.

Genre fiction is deeply important to me, and I love bringing queer characters to this space. Every story published in this book appeared first, both as ideas and in rough-and-final drafts on my patreon.

HERE'S HOW TO BUY AND SUPPORT THE QUEER NOVELIST IN QUESTION!

my ko-fi store: this is the most direct way to support me (a disabled queer novelist) and I get the biggest cut if you buy the e-book from this source

AMAZON! you want a paperback, YOU GOT A PAPERBACK

and lastly, if you want to see my writing in advance, get your name in the credits, or get special copies in advance, my patreon

thank you for your support, and happy reading <3

[thebiggerbear]

"I hate you." "You have a weird way of showing that." - Dean Winchester Prompt Response

Summary: You and Dean refuse to speak to one another after an argument and Sam has finally had enough.

A/N: Prompt from @creativepromptsforwriting (#941). I loved writing this but I always love it when it comes to Dean. 😊 And of course, I couldn't resist when it came to Sam in the end. Brothers, gotta love 'em. ;)

Thank you to my beta @rieleatiel for her services. You rock, girl!

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader; Dean Winchester x Female!Huntress!Reader

Warnings: mentions of implied sex

Word Count: 1449

Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187

Dean Taglist: @heartlessdelusions; @nancymcl; @brightlilith

Jensen Taglist: @samanddeaninatrenchcoat; @deansbbyx

You can also read on AO3

"I hate you." "You have a weird way of showing that."

Soldier Boy version ✨ Beau version ✨ Jenny version ✨ Jason version ✨ Tom version ✨ CJ version ✨ Rachel version ✨ Anael version ✨ SDV Leah version ✨ Alec version

Dean snuck a glance at you only to quickly look away when you looked up from your lore book. In return, you snuck a peek at him but pretended you were looking at something else when he lifted his head from one of the hunter’s journals he’d found in storage. 

Sam had watched this infuriating dance happen at least twelve times by now and it was getting on his last nerve. At first, he thought it was hopeful. Then heartbreaking. Now it was just damn aggravating, more so because he knew his older brother was being his usual stubborn self. All he needed to do was come out and apologize already, and Dean knew that yet still refused to budge an inch.

You and Dean had gotten into an argument during the last hunt. He’d been upset that you had taken on three vamps by yourself—something you had done back in your high school days, along with killing other creepy things that slithered out of the dark. You were perfectly capable of taking care of yourself, which you had proven multiple times, and you knew when to ask for help. Dean didn’t want to hear it, claiming you could have been killed had he and Sam not been close by. You both dug in your heels no matter what Sam said, and you two were still at an impasse, giving each other the silent treatment. Still, that didn’t stop the longing glances Dean gave you when you weren’t looking, or the sad looks you gave him when he was none the wiser. It was driving Sam nuts. He had never met two people who were so stubborn—aside from his parents, of course—and now that he thought about it, stubborn or not, you and Dean were well-suited for one another.

“You know,” Sam broke the silence. “At some point, you two are going to have to talk to each other again.”

Dean shot him a surreptitious glare. You had no problem offering a withering glare of your own.

“Look,” Sam continued. “Y/N is right, she can take care of herself and if she needs our help, she’ll say something.” At your triumphant smile, Dean’s gaze darkened.

“No one asked you to butt in, Sammy,” he warned.

Sam nearly rolled his eyes. “If I don’t, this won’t get resolved because you both are too hard-headed to make the first move. Y/N,” Your eyes darted over to him. “My idiot brother won’t say it but the reason he got upset is because he’s scared.”

Dean’s free hand clenched into a fist and he gave a subtle shake of his head. Sam ignored him and continued, “He’s scared something is going to happen to you and he won’t be there to stop it. That’s why he freaked out that night. He’s not trying to tell you what to do or be a controlling jerk. He just wants you to be safe, that’s all.”

You bit your lip and turned your attention to Dean, who suddenly seemed very interested in the book in his lap. “Is that true?”

After a moment, he ground out, “Yeah. It’s true.”

You stood up, letting the book in your own lap fall to the ground with a heavy thud, and made your way over to Dean. You ripped the book out of his hands, tossed it to the floor, ignored Sam’s irritation at your carelessness with such old tomes, and crawled into Dean’s lap, his hands instantly coming around you to support you. You wrapped your arms around his neck and leaned down to kiss him. You felt him immediately begin to relax under your touch and only when his lips were completely pliant and moving with yours did you pull back, staring into his green eyes.

“Why couldn’t you just tell me that?”

He slid his hand up your back and to your hair, tenderly rubbing the strands between his fingers. “I don’t know. I just… That vamp had you in a hold and it scared the crap out of me when I couldn’t reach you fast enough. What if he had gotten more of a drop on you? What if—”

You gently placed your fingers against his lips, stopping him from finishing that question. “He didn’t. I killed my first vamp at 12, took out my first nest when I was 16. Hunting’s in my blood just as much as it is yours. I know what I’m doing.” You ran your fingers through his hair reassuringly, scratching at his scalp, and watched him lean into the touch. “But if you want, we can talk about it. We’ll come up with a plan that makes you feel better and works for both of us. Okay?”

He gave you a dopey smile that melted your heart. The magic touch had worked; the tension from before had finally lifted. “Okay, baby. Sounds good to me.”

You kissed him again, this time with a little more passion. “You know what else sounds good?” You murmured to his lips when you both needed a breath.

Those green eyes you loved so much immediately lit with an all-too familiar fire. “Do tell.”

You leaned in and whispered your plan into his ear, making sure Sam wouldn’t overhear. By the time you pulled back, he was grinning like crazy. Clearing his throat, he helped you off of his lap and back onto your feet as you both turned to face Sam, a mischievous smirk fighting its way onto your face. You knew that would get him going.

“Actually, I just remembered I left the…stove on in the kitchen. And Y/N here has to go call Jody to…give her an update on the case and how it’s going.”

Sam gave you both a look; he wasn’t buying it. You turned and gave the same look to Dean. He really hadn’t come up with anything better than that? “I hate you.”

“You have a weird way of showing that,” he teased, subtly rubbing up against you and smirking. This man was so lucky you loved him.

You shook your head and looked away, your cheeks growing hot. The bastard was turning you on even more and he knew it. It’d been almost two weeks, the longest you’d gone without since — well, since meeting him.

Sam was the one to clear his throat this time. “Whatever. Happy you both are talking to one another again. Now, go do what you’re going to do but just not in front of me, please. Okay? And you’re welcome.”

Dean shot Sam a look but he was too happy to care what Sam was intimating about his being the one who settled things between the two of you. He gave his younger brother a wide smile. “If you need us, we’ll be…” He trailed off, gesturing to the hallway that led to the rooms.

“Oh my God,” you muttered in embarrassment as you grabbed his hand and pulled him after you.

“Oh, hey!” Sam yelled. “Keep out of my room this time, Dean. I mean it!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean called back.

You had just turned the corner when Dean immediately had you up against the wall, kissing you passionately and picking you up, prompting you to wrap your legs around his waist. When you pulled back for air, your brow furrowed in confusion at seeing Dean move past his door. “Dean,” you panted. “Where are you going? You just passed your room.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled.

“Okay, then where are you taking me?”

His smirk was so wicked you knew what the answer was before he said it. “Sammy’s room.”

“Dean, are you kidding me? No!”

“Relax, we won’t be in there long.”

“You know how upset he was last time and he just said—”

Dean came to a stop and kissed the crap out of you, effectively silencing you. You may have been a little dazed when he finally let you get some air. “He’s got the better bed and I want the very best for you, baby.” He then gave you a salacious smirk and leaned in. “Plus I know how much you love that headboard.”

He waggled his eyebrows at you as certain memories replayed in your mind. You were able to hold onto that headboard for a long time, it held you up well, and same for Dean…oh shit. Sorry, Sam.

“What are you waiting for?” You bit out impatiently, slipping your tongue into his mouth and swallowing his chuckle. As he walked you into Sam’s room, shutting and locking the door behind him, you made a mental note to later google the hell out of this headboard and find one for Dean’s bed.

Please let me know if you would like to be tagged for this character.

dividers by @firefly-graphics

banner by @cafekitsune

[princessbrunette]

imagine rafe trying to teach you a little bit of self defense but you just get turned on by him manhandling you and he’s just tsking at you underneath him with your hands pinned above your head lowly whispering “you gotta pay attention kid, there’s bad men out there… gotta know how’t stop em from from thinking they can do whatever they want” and she’d get all blushy and squirming just looking at him all doe eyed like “You can do what ever you want 🥺🥺🩷” He loves how submissive you are !!!!

i love this idea sm but when i started writing it kinda turned into something else ??? kinda dubcon but that’s just how he plays sometimes. reader is clearly wanting it !

ೀ 🍨 ‧ ˚ 🎀 ⊹˚. ♡

rafe was in one of his moods. the odd moods he gets in where he’s suddenly motivated to fix things, handle business, be ‘proactive’ as he puts it. there was no business to handle that day, so he turned his attention to you — deciding now of all times was the time to teach you how to defend yourself.

the idea had sprung to him when he walked into the room and stared you down, coming to the harrowing realisation that you hadn’t even noticed his presence, too engrossed in the book in your grasp. he creeps closer, and you don’t even blink. he edges behind you, and notes the way he could grab you into a headlock if he wanted, or cover your mouth, hell — he could snap your neck. you’d never see it coming.

of course, he didn’t want to ever hurt you — which is why he decided to stage an impromptu lesson. that gets you to where you end up, pinned to the ground beneath him.

“ow, rafe.” you frown wiggling your wrist from his grip until he lets it free with a shake of his head. you weren’t too happy about him stealing you away from your time of relaxation with your book — but you would never give up the opportunity to have your boyfriends hands on you. you thought things would have played out a little more… fun.

“see, you — you did it again. if i put my hand here, what are you gonna do, huh? what’d i tell you?” he raises his eyebrows, prompting a response.

“uhh, bite it?” you giggle, making him sit up on his knees, jaw ticking in frustration.

“you know i’m tryna save your life here, kid. someone comes up to you and grabs you, you’re screwed, ‘cos you don’t know how to protect yourself. i’m not always gonna be around to fight people off okay?”

“why not?” you whine, pressing a socked foot against his chest from where you lay. he wraps a hand gently around your ankle and brings it down, expression displaying his frustration.

“because i am not with you 24 hours a day, alright? m’not playing around here. you gonna listen?” he nudges your thigh with his own and you huff, head moving with a noncommittal nod. “okay.” he brings his body down onto yours, pinning you down with it. he had to be doing this on purpose. “alright, flip me on my back. go.”

you can’t help yourself, you wrap your legs around his waist and bring his crotch flush against yours with a little giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck. he presses his lips together, staring at you blankly from his incredibly close proximity and stays silent until your childish laughs die down. you think he’s going to remove himself, lecture you and walk off for a little while— but he continues to stare, even when you wriggle beneath him, legs split around his body — mound of your cunt pressing up against his bulge.

“you think this is some kinda joke huh?” he asks quietly, and the smile starts to melt off your face. “like — like i’m just doin’ this shit for fun.” he glares, and now your hearts pounding because you only wanted to be close to him!

“no…” you mewl, brows knitted but it’s too late. he pushes himself up on his knees again, looking down on you.

“you know i’m real nice to you. there’s bad men out there that’ll really rough you up. maybe… maybe i should give you a taste of that, huh? show you what i’m protecting you from.”

you go to argue, tell him you’ll listen — but he slides a leg under yours and in one movement flips you so you’re suddenly laying on your front, ass a little raised. he leans over you, collecting your wrists with one hand and pins them down. “nah, go ahead. try and fight me off baby. see if you can.” he speaks eerily calmly and you wriggle, realising you’re totally pinned beneath his weight with no escape. “yeah, that shits scary huh? can’t get out.” he nods and you let out a little cry.

“okay, rafe c’mon!”

“nah, you think this is a game so i’m gonna show you just how fuckin’ real this is a’ight?” he tucks his free hand into your pyjama shorts and begins to yank them down. you hate how your heart feels like it’s in your throat and yet your cunt throbs and your back arches from muscle memory. “better wise up, sweetheart— ‘cos i don’t think you’re getting out of this.” he gives your ass cheek a firm smack, watching the fat of it recoil beneath the touch and you whine.

“teach me! rafe you can teach me, please!” you pout, craning round to look at him. his lip is curled into a malicious smirk, head shaking in disapproval.

“yeah, you know you’re just too late. gonna have to learn your lesson now, alright? remember this shit.”

ೀ 🍨 ‧ ˚ 🎀 ⊹˚. ♡

[anmaje]

I have so many Thoughts about S&co Sherlock Holmes, so have my headcanons:

- He was raised, at least partially, by his grandparents. Maybe by the french, maternal grandmother(NAVA). His oldtimey poshness is wonderful, but I can only explain it with some oldmoney, eccentric pensionist giving him a weirdly free, yet emotionally constipated upbringing.

- The houseplants of 221b and a are in pristine health because of him.

- He doesn't have any actual diagnoses. This is basically canon, but I'm putting it on here anyways. He doesn't, but Mycroft does. It's the classic instance of the more "severe case" or "more affected" sibling getting the help they need. And the symptoms of the other "less affected" sibling are overlooked. He also self medicates, which makes sense if he doesn't have access to prescription meds.

- He only wears clothes that fit. Oversized or skinny styles are the inventions of Satan himself. They're straight from sensory hell, and Sherlock agrees with me. He's very picky with fabrics too, preferring natural to synthetic. He detests wool against his skin though, so he wears tights, or long underwear beneath wool trousers in winter. He also gets a lot of clothes adjusted or made by a tailor(Who also did his grandparent's tailoring).

- He shaves his legs and armpits aswell as his face every day.

- If you ask him about his sexuality/gender identity you'll get a "that's none of your business". If John asked him, he'd get a "labels limit the vast expanse of the human experience". In truth he doesn't fucking know, it's weird and muddy, like the rest of his identity. He's read every book on the subject, watched so much porn, had a lot of one night stands, but ultimately comes up with: sex and relationships get in the way of my work, so I'll ignore that. Gender is a social construct, so I get to decide what a man is. And I'm queer, I guess.

- Dogperson

- He plays Mendelsohn for John, like in the canon. Not because John has asked him to(John doesn't know who Mendelsohn is), but because he's made a careful study to garner John's reaction to different composers. He's been doing the same with Mariana, and is slowly but surely honing in on Mozart. Both of these composers bore him, but he doesn't care when it's for his friends <3

- Despite not liking to dance (solitary cyclist part 2), he's very good! He was forced to do ballet and ballroom dancing as a kid. He's mustering up the courage to ask Mariana to dance salsa with him on their next pub escapade, but he always puts it off.

-FRECKLES. A LOT OF 'EM.

[ihfmseatsoch]

Hiiii this is Jimmy rape anon again!!!! Your fic was so good and super duper cathartic sooooo X333 Waiter, more Jimmy torture please!!!!!

Can I please get a red room type situation where the reader streams snuff porn of Jimmy after he tries and fails in drugging and taking advantage of them? Or if snuff is too far for you, maybe just in general ruining of his life? Super sorry if this is too weird, I respect your boundaries and I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable!!!

-🥩

I ❤️ SNUFF 😁 smiles sweetly

genre: smut, dark fic

gender neutral reader, genitalia isn't described

word count: 2.2k

warnings/content: dead dove, attempted rape, actual rape, kidnapping, drugging, snuff, jimmy dies 🥳🎉

(>_< this is my first time writing smth like this #sorry if its dumb. bleh)

—

Nights like this were routine for Jimmy; go to a bar, chat up someone that looked the most deprived of their father's affection, roofie them, and take 'em home. Not like anyone would miss a dumb whore in the first place, so it's all guilt free.

Everything was going smoothly with you, although it was frustrating how you kept your hand protectively over your drink the entire time. You also don't seem particularly interested in his advances, so drugging you unconscious was the only course of action. Problem was, the opportunity never arose.

His impatience began to grow. He was not used to being denied what he wanted, and he started to feel irritated by your resistance. You were certainly a difficult target.

Losing interest, his focus diverted away from you, scoping out anyone else that looked drunk enough to make his goal an easy feat. He takes a sip of his drink, grimacing at how it tasted unusually bitter, the flavor lingering unpleasantly on his tongue. Jim dismissed it as a minor quirk. He's just imagining things, the bartender must've made it wrong.

Deep down, an uneasy feeling nagged at him, an inexplicable sense of foreboding settling in his mind.

He doesn't remember anything before everything went black.

When he regains consciousness, he can hear the muffled sound of someone speaking, and through his unfocused, bleary vision, he can see a blinding light pointing directly at him. It takes him a moment to completely get a grip on reality.

Jimmy can tell he's on the floor, but the texture underneath him is similar to... a tarp? He can recognize a camera stand only a couple feet away from him, once his dizziness alleviates.

"Oh, good. He's waking up." He hears an... oddly familiar voice coming from nearby.

Jimmy attempted to move, but all of his limbs felt sluggish and slow. He quickly realized his wrists and ankles were bound together with thick rope that dug painfully into his skin.

"What... the fuck?" Jim manages to groggily mumble, panic washing over him.

"Say hi... um, whatever your name is. I forgot. Probably unremarkable, anyway. I mean... who would care to learn the name of a pig bred for slaughter?" The figure in front of him snickers at their own sentence. A chilling sense of recognition dawns on him.

You.

"Fuck." Is the most fitting word he could utter between his teeth to describe the horror gripping his chest in this moment. "What...– What did you do to me, you psychotic, fucking–" Jim spat, his words still slightly slurred from the lingering effects of the drug.

"Language." You scold, reprimanding him like a child. "I've already heard every insult you could throw at me. Honestly, men like you need to get more original."

He notices a USB cord connecting the camera to a laptop, the screen displaying what looks to be... a live chat, and his body, sprawled pathetically on the ground.

He was being filmed, streamed to a live audience. If he was close enough to read the chat, he'd be met with thousands of people egging you on to make him suffer, using every method in the book.

"Everyone's been so eager to see me butcher another piece of meat. You should be flattered that I chose you. You're gonna be a star." Your tone is eerily giddy.

"Flattered" was most certainly not the word he would have chosen to describe this predicament. "What... What do you want from me?" Jim sounded weaker this time, the fear finally starting to seep into his voice.

"It's not what I want from you, silly. This is about what I can do to you." Your clarification isn't any less threatening. "You tried your hardest to hurt me first, and usually I commend perseverance. But... being so committed to assaulting an innocent person... that's not worthy of praise. Punishment sounds more like what you deserve."

This is not happening. This cannot be real.

"H– Hey, okay, listen. I made a mistake." Jimmy stammers, trying to come up with anything to stall for time. Anything to throw you off. Anything to keep him alive. "Just let me go, I won't breathe a word of this, I swear to god–"

"God? God won't save you. You're not worth it. I don't know how many victims you've gotten your greedy hands on, but even one is more than enough for the death penalty. In my humble opinion." Kneeling on the ground beside him, you grab his face, forcefully turning it to make eye contact with the camera. "You're a pretty boy. Shame you turned out this way."

"Please– Just let me go. I– I'll give you cash, I got money." He pleaded, struggling against the restraints around his limbs. "I'll give you everything. I'll do anything, j–just–" He swallowed, his words faltering under the weight of his desperation.

"Money?" You laugh, like it's the most hilarious thing you've ever heard, and it very well may be. "Aww, you're cute. But no, I don't want your hush money." You position yourself above him, groping his hips, feeling his body up as if you're inspecting an animal.

"Don't–" His body tensed the moment you made contact with him, and he tried desperately to jerk his body forward to get away from your touch, but, well... you can't exactly do much without hands or legs, can you? "–Dont f– fucking touch me!" Jimmy cried out in vain.

"What gives you the right to beg, when the people you've hurt couldn't?" You roll your eyes at his whining. Men like him are always such crybabies.

"Hmm... should we do a poll, chat? Duct tape over his mouth, or no?" You type away on your keyboard, speaking casually to your deranged audience like nothing about this is remotely insane.

His heart thrummed against his ribcage, a cold sweat causing his clothes to uncomfortably stick to his body. "Wait– No! No, you c–can't–! People will look for me, y–you can't j–just–" Every word he speaks ia now filled to the brim with panic and dread, lacking their usual sharpness.

"No one is coming to help you."

You respond plainly. And truthfully, you aren't wrong. Jimmy knows he only has one friend in this entire world, and zero family that ever gave a fuck about him. There's no doubt that Curly would indeed search for him, but the police are useless. He'd file a missing persons report and the case would go cold in a month.

"I've known guys like you my whole life. So which one is it; Daddy issues? Mommy issues? Both? Either way, your parents obviously didn't care enough about you to raise you right. So family is out of the question."

That last sentence got through to him, hitting too close to home. "Shut up," Jimmy's face contorts with anger, "You don't know anything about me, you–" He growled, a weak attempt to hide the shame he felt deep down. He hated how clearly you saw through him. He was truly alone, and it stung.

"I know enough," You reply, without even a hint of emotion. In fact, you were infuriatingly nonchalant. "It's always the same story. Mom and dad fucked you up, so now you're bitter and old, taking any chance you can get to make people feel the same misery you have inside you."

Jimmy winced when you so ruthlessly pointed out the truth he always tried so hard to deny. He wanted to fight back, but what could he say? He was at your complete mercy, literally. So he stayed quiet, his body trembling in your grasp.

You study something closely on your screen, something he can't see, which makes him all the more nervous. "Duct tape it is." You nod to yourself, grabbing the roll you conveniently placed beside you, like you were prepared for this. To silence him. You're not gentle with it, either. You wrap the tape carelessly around his head, the material sticking to his hair and mouth, secured tightly in place.

A muffled protest comes from behind the tape, but it's just as pitiful as his pleading earlier. Your fingers loop around the hem of his jeans, tugging them down roughly. It's honestly a bit more of a struggle than you'd hoped for, with his squirming, plus the rough material not going down smoothly without a fight.

"Don't you think it's stupid to fight back at this point?" You huff, wiping sweat from your forehead when you finally get his pants down to his mid-thigh. "Like, come on. This is the end for you, and you know it. At least you'll be entertaining to watch..."

Dread. That's all he can feel right now. Pure, nauseating dread. Jimmy feels like he's been punched in the gut, struggling to keep the contents of his stomach from rushing to his esophagus. His adams apple bobs as he swallows down the painful, choked up sensation in his throat. He doesn't want to cry. He can't give up his pride just yet.

Jimmy's stubbornness doesn't last long when you yank his underwear down, his soft dick laying limp on his stomach. You straddled his hips, grasping his shaft agonizingly tight, making him involuntarily let out a panic stricken whimper. No one has ever touched him like this, in a way that made his entire body feel violated. He could sit in the shower for the rest of his life, and never wash off the filth.

Jim attempts, once again, to plead for mercy, his brown eyes glazing over with fresh tears.

He's thankful he can't see your face anymore.

You can't make out what he's trying to say, but it's not like you're all too interested to find out, anyway. He feels you shift on top of him, reaching over to grab something off a nearby table. As soon as the cold, metallic barrel of your handgun presses against the pulse point on his neck, his body stiffens, his cries halting altogether.

"That's right. You just stay nice and still." You mutter, maintaining that same calm demeanor you've had since you brought him here, sealing his fate. You've done this before, it's obvious.

It's terrifying.

You keep the gun against his throat as you slip him inside of your hole, albeit with some struggle of course, because he's not hard in the slightest. Jimmy's chest heaves, and he's sure he could vomit at any second. Everything about this makes him feel sick. He's trembling so hard, lightheaded from hyperventilating.

He wishes he would just pass out so he didn't have to feel you use his dick like a toy. Every time you sink back down onto him, it makes him physically recoil, cringing with every muscle in his body. It feels so... wrong. Depraved in a way that's too monstrous, even for him. Which is hypocritial of him to think, honestly. He's put, what, dozens of people in this exact position?

His senses are completely overwhelmed, and he's unable to let out the buildup emotions in a way that isn't letting tears flow freely down his cheeks, out of the fear that if he makes a single noise or complaint, you'd kill him early and continue desecrating his corpse, whilst every single person witnessing his final moments cheers you on.

"At least I'm getting some use out of you," You pant above him, getting off on his sobs, and his palpable, unadulterated fear. "You can be proud knowing you actually made someone cum before you died. I doubt you ever have before."

His eyes anxiously follow the gun as you move it to press it against his forehead. "I wonder where I should shoot you," You hum, deep in genuine contemplation, "I think everyone would like to see your brain splattered all over the wall. Or, I could shoot you right in the heart," You prod the barrel against his chest, "And watch you panic when you feel it stop."

Jimmy wanted to ask you to make it quick. Honestly, he's relieved he'll die when this is over. At least he wont remember a single thing about his fucked up existence when he's unconscious and rotting wherever you throw his corpse. At least he wont remember how he felt in this moment. It's a little comforting to let his mind wander elsewhere, thinking of how blissfully numb he'll be when you end his life.

You could feel yourself nearing your orgasm, fueled by the adrenaline coursing through your body, and if you're being honest, his cock is big, even if it's flaccid inside you. What a shame that it'll go to waste soon. "None of this would be happening if you were a decent man. Isn't that funny?"

No, it isn't.

When you finally cum, he doesn't even have the strength left to be scared anymore. After years of longing for death, his prayers have been answered. It's not the most graceful way to go, but then again, he never expected his last moments to be peaceful.

You grip his hair, roughly twisting his head to look into the camera lense. Surprisingly, even to himself, he doesn't fight back.

"I don't know where you're going, but I hope it's worse than hell." You cock the gun, pressing the barrel to his temple.

The last thing he hears is a deafening gunshot that bursts his eardrum.

—

[tjelestial]

Pick a Pile: Which TS album are you? Part 1

PAC: Which Taylor Swift Album are You? (Part 1)

☆ How to choose your pile: Take a deep breath, hold it for a sec - exhale slowly through your mouth. Close your eyes and focus on the question. Once you're ready, take a look at the number and choose the pile you feel drawn to.

If you feel called by more than one pile, there might be more messages for you.

Remember: Take only what resonates and leave what doesn’t. This is a general reading, therefore I'd be picking up messages for collective audience. May you find your message!

PILE 1

RED

Justice, King of Swords

Alright Red girlies, you alright?? Because your heart has been broken in a way you could’ve never prepared for, yet you still hold onto that hope for love. You’ve got a soft and emotional side, and you tend to swing between intense emotions. There’s more to you though, you’re also someone value justice and equality, and you have a well-developed sense of right and wrong.

You likely possess quick mind and intellect. You may be articulate and thoughtful. You’re someone who is not afraid to speak your mind and strive to make positive impact on your surroundings. Autumn is totally your season and oh, you have a very versatile taste in music. Also, I’m getting that some of you are in no contact situation, just here to tell you that it’s okay, it’s not your loss.

Songs/Message:

“Sometimes all I think about is you” (Heatwaves – Glass Animals) “For years no call” (Closer – The Chainsmokers ft Halsey)

PILE 2

REPUTATION

4 of Cups, 5 of Wands

Okay Pile 2, despite past experiences where trust was broken, you’ve emerged stronger, more cautious, and empowered. You also have a vengeful side, and some of you are exactly the opposite of that but yearns to be that way. You treat people the way they treat you, but underneath all of that, you’re actually kind and sweet. Even if you won’t admit it.

There also may be a sense of secrecy or hidden motives associated with your personality trait. When it comes to love, you might lose yourself in the heat of romance and not always know when to pull back. Additionally, I sense boredom from your energy, it can indicate that you may be feeling emotionally unfulfilled or apathy to your current situation. You might be seeking improvement to your situation to break free from this stagnant state. Wishing you luck!

“said that I was fine, said it from the coffin” (So True – Gracie Abrams) “problem is when I'm with you, I'm an addict” (Lose Control - Teddy Swims)

PILE 3

TTPD

Okay Pile 3, let’s be real, you’ve still got lingering memories from your past relationship. Not necessarily because you can't move on, rather, because those memories hits different. It serves as a reminder of how deeply you can feel, how much you’ve learned about yourself and the world. It’s the same sensitivity that makes you so observant, so independent, and yeah, maybe you’ve got a flair for being dramatic, but hey, it’s part of your charm!

Also, while doing the reading I saw the angel number 333, 33 and again 333, seems like it has some significant to you. Now back to your reading, the cards you drew is the card of pain, resilience and being defensive. Suggesting that you are sensitive, determined and you are protective of your personal boundaries & the things you are passionate about. One thing about you is that despite experiencing pain, you show inner strength, even if it's messy, you can get through it. You’ve got this pile 3!

“But I’m in so deep. You know I’m such a fool for you” (the Cranberries – Linger) “I can't buy your love, don't even wanna try” (Emeli Sande – My Kinda Love)

PILE 4

SPEAK NOW

Ah this is my bittersweet, nostalgic girlies. You’ve always had a gentle, dreamy side that cherishes your inner child, but you’re also strong enough now that you won’t put up with people who have wronged you anymore. This is also my reader pile, what’s your favorite book? Comment down below please <3 okay so you’re very nostalgic, introspective and you’re afraid of not appreciating the moment enough while you’re in it. You don’t want to ever take things for granted. Props to you.

The cards that showed up here indicates that you have a vivid imagination but you’re also thoughtful and deeply connected to your inner self. You are full of ideas and you think outside the box, often bringing fresh perspectives to situations. However, the card also points to challenges, such as lacking focus, head in the clouds and struggling with follow through on your ideas and plans. Your creativity and fresh ideas are a gift, honour them by choosing one project to focus on at a time. With a little discipline, you can turn your visions into something extraordinary. Let’s go pile 4!

“adore me, hold me and explore me” (Juno – Sabrina Carpenter) “hold on to the memories, they will hold on to you” (New Year’s Day – Taylor Swift)

PILE 5

Folklore

Folklore folks, you got that sentimental vibes to you and might just be an old soul. You love getting lost in a good book or writing your thoughts down, all while wrapped up in a cozy blanket. You really appreciate the little details and the deeper meanings in art and life.

The cards you pulled indicates that you tend to take on a lot of responsibilities and might feel overwhelmed at times. You could be someone who is reliable, hardworking and dedicated, but may need to be cautious of spreading yourselves too thin. There’s a theme of struggling with overburdening and exhaustion. You’re willing to put in the work, but it warns against taking on too much at once, causing you to feel burnout. For some of you, you might feel powerless or incapable of turning your ideas into reality, which may result in self-sabotage. Gotta trust the process, take action and take things one step at a time, don’t hesitate to ask for help to avoid burnout, lovelies <3

“put in the work, put in the hours” (Face Off – Dwayne Johnson) “there's nothing, like doing nothing” (Nothing – Bruno Major)