the grate escape

Mac Ruaidh - Part Three

Part One, Part Two

It was too hot for Jamie to sleep. It had been years since Jamie slept in a proper bed in a proper room and it would take some time to get used to being close enough to a fire to keep properly warm. But he didn’t dare cross to open the window. Much as he would appreciate the relief of a bit of the January chill creeping in the room to counteract the effects of a hearth larger than the dimensions of the room required it to be, Jamie was terrified of what it might do to William sleeping nestled wrapped in blankets in the basket he’d arrived in earlier.

As his mind spiraled from William developing a cold to taking fever because of the open window, Jamie could feel the memory of Claire rolling her eyes before launching into a lecture about her germs and how it wasn’t cold temperatures that caused colds before finally conceding that yes, it would still probably be safer for him to keep the window shut.

There was another person who might object to such measures––the wet nurse Lady Dunsany had summoned, a young widow named Sabrina who had lost first her husband and then her three-month-old child to fever between Christmas and the New Year. The quiet woman had a cot of her own in an adjoining room she was sharing with one of the housemaids.

Lying awake and unmoving on the bed so as not to generate further heat, Jamie listened to the once familiar sounds of a house in the night. The logs in the hearth crackled quietly with occasional louder pops; the glass panes in the small window rattled whenever the wind picked up; the creaking floorboards in the hall and the cramped servants’ quarters beyond signaled other household staff moving about as they finally came to bed for the night or waking, made use of the chamber pot before resuming their unconscious states.

But the most prominent sound and the one that kept Jamie awake even as it calmed his nerves was the steady breathing and occasional groans of William beside him. Jamie would find some way to fashion a proper cradle for the baby before long but until then he refused to leave William’s basket on the floor while they both slept and instead had nestled the basket among the blankets on the bed. There was just enough space for the basket when Jamie lay on his back with one arm draped around the woven curve but he felt most reassured when he curled his body protectively around it; the fear of knocking the basket and its bairn out of the bed lessened significantly. But lying on his back was the easiest way to feel that it wasn’t just the bairn in the bed beside him. The sounds of the house weren’t dissimilar to those of Lallybroch and Sabrina’s snoring in the next room brought a smile to his lips and memories of Claire––and her insistence that it was he who snored and not her––to his tired mind.

There was a hitch in the baby’s breathing and Jamie snapped up to peer inside. William’s fist was in his mouth but he needed something that offered sustenance rather than succor. Jamie reached in and swept him up and cradled him to his chest before he could begin to truly fuss. The warmth of his father against his cheek lulled William long enough for Jamie to slip out of bed, ease open the door between his room and the women’s, and gently rouse Sabrina for William’s feeding.

He tended the fire while she sat in a stupor, William latched to her breast but her arms holding him stiffly and she wouldn’t look at him.

“Did you wake him to feed?” she asked as the need to switch William from one breast to the other temporarily roused her from her stupor.

Jamie glanced over, his gaze falling on the back of his son’s head as it turned in search of the rest of his meal. Grinning when the boy found it, Jamie suddenly realized he’d been essentially gawking at the poor woman’s exposed breast and looked away again, grateful that the resultant flush could be blamed on the heat of the fire before him.

“No,” he muttered, finally answering her question. “No, I didna wake him. I was restless myself and heard him rouse. I’m… I’m no used to sleepin’ in the house,” he confessed.

“Me either. Not a house this grand. Thank you, by the way, for catching him before he could cry.” Surprised, Jamie looked over to see her eyes fastened unblinking on the flames in the hearth, shining with sorrow. “If he’d cried… If I’d heard him cry like that I wouldn’t have realized it wasn’t…”

“What was yer bairn’s name? The one ye lost,” Jamie asked quietly, gently.

The reply came in a whisper. “Carina… her name was Carina.”

Jamie nodded and swallowed before telling her, “Faith. My wife and I lost a lass at birth… years ago now. She was called Faith.”

“When did you lose your wife?”

There were times Jamie could feel the shape and weight of every minute he’d spent without Claire; that he could stack them in piles reaching the ceiling and group them into the days, weeks, months, and years they’d been apart. And other times it was a distinctly unquantifiable mass that he couldn’t escape––would never escape… not until death.

“Years ago now,” he repeated knowing this young widow still enveloped in her own grief would be able to understand the struggle to find a way to carry on and live within grief’s muffling embrace.

“Thank ye,” he added a moment later. “For helpin’ wi’ my wee lad.”

Sabrina nodded and finally looked down at the infant suckling her breast. “He seems to be a strong one.” Her voice was hollow but she shifted her arms and her hold of William softened.

Whether the movement unsettled him or he had simply consumed his fill, William disengaged from Sabrina and promptly began to writhe and fuss.

Jamie was there in an instant and had him away from the wet nurse.

“He ate too fast,” she suggested, readjusting her shift and rising from the chair to return to bed. “Rub his back a bit and walk him about the room. He should settle back down.” The door between the rooms closed quietly and Jamie was left to calm his son on his own.

It still amazed him just how small and light the lad was, how fragile. And yet there was growing strength and coordination as Jamie felt William’s tiny arms pushing back against his collarbone and fighting to raise his head. The efforts exhausted him, however, and had failed to alleviate his discomfort. The stiff fingers of Jamie’s right hand held William’s small torso in place while his thumb swept back and forth across the back in a steady rhythm that reduced William’s cries to a weak whimper. Jamie felt the tension leak out of William as the bubble of gas worked its way up and out of his belly. Though the smell was faintly sour, there was no dampness on his shoulder so William’s meal had successfully stayed put.

Jamie grinned and rested his cheek lightly against the small head.

An eruption from his own stomach startled him and made him laugh.

“Now yer belly’s full, mine seems to want a bite too,” he murmured. In the confusion of arranging the room and bringing his things in from the loft, Jamie had only had a few quick bites of supper in passing and hadn’t been able to take an extra bit of bread or cheese to have later as was his habit. “What say we take a short walk down to the kitchens, eh?” he told William, laying the baby on the bed long enough to pull on a pair of breeks.

William stretched, his body arching briefly and the blanket that had wrapped him slid off his legs so that his feet were exposed to the cold. The toes curled and he reflexively drew the limbs back closer to his body and the warmth of his core. Jamie pounced at the opportunity and quickly swaddled the baby as tightly as he dared, grateful to escape having to pin William’s arms and legs in place himself.

“Now, ye must be quiet as a wee mouse looking for scraps left by the kitchen maids,” Jamie whispered as he eased his way into the corridor with William tucked into the crook of one arm. William squirmed and emitted a small mouse-like squeak that made Jamie smile broadly.

The fires in the kitchen were never allowed to go out for the sake of practicality so the large room was invitingly warm even as Jamie’s bare feet slipped from the wooden steps of the servants’ back stair to the cool flat stones that lined the kitchen floor’s outer edges; as he moved closer to the main preparations table and the fire, they grew warmer to the touch.

“Is everything all right?” a voice inquired from a seat near the window.

Jamie spun to see Lord John with a fork in one hand and a plate in the other, a half-finished piece of mincemeat pie resting neatly upon it.

Jamie rolled his eyes as he closed them before looking down to check William hadn’t been disturbed by the abrupt movement. “Aye,” he said in a low even tone. “We’re fine.” The calm that had been on him as he made his way down to the kitchen––the peace of a household at rest––had fallen away. The surprise of Grey’s presence and the anticipation of a conversation he did not wish to have had sent a jolt through his system so that the pangs of his hunger were forgotten as a rush of other information flooded his senses. There were three ways out of the kitchen, the nearest being the stairs at his back, but those would only lead him deeper into the house as would the door in the far left corner; the door to the far right corner would lead to the yard and open air but Grey was still closer to both than he was and Lord John held nothing more dear than stale pie left from an elaborate dinner; it being a kitchen though, there were plenty of implements that could be used as weapons. None of which should matter because there was no real threat to either himself or the baby and yet as he stepped closer to the table––Grey having risen and carried his plate back with a gesture inviting Jamie to join him in his midnight snack––Jamie was able to do so with the steady sureness of someone prepared for anything.

Grey cut a second piece of pie from the leftovers and set the plate near the fire for a few moments to heat up. Jamie busied himself by tending to William, readjusting his blankets and settling him more firmly in the crook of his right arm.

Grey set the plate and a fork in front of Jamie. “Do you need me to hold him while you eat?”

Jamie took the fork up easily in his left hand and shook his head. “I’ll be fine.” He took care not to smile as Grey blinked with amazement at Jamie’s ability to eat left-handed.

They ate in a silence that grew increasingly tense as each waited the other out to see who would broach the subject first.

“Why in God’s name did you agree to this arrangement?” Grey finally asked, setting his own fork down forcefully. “Did you hope to buy favor with Lord Dunsany and his wife by volunteering a solution that would allow them to see their grandson? Because if you hoped this would win their support in petitioning on your behalf for being released from your parole, I’m afraid you’ll find it will actually have the opposite effect. They’ll want you here indefinitely if your leaving means you’ll take that boy with you. And if you simply wanted better treatment you need only have brought any mistreatment to my attention and I would have had a word with Lord Dunsany on the matter.”

“Are ye through?” Jamie asked when it appeared Grey was losing steam.

Grey let out a frustrated huff and picked up his fork again but only poked at the cooling piece of mince meat pie, the crust flaking off and making a mess in the pooling grease on the plate.

“I dinna expect ye to understand why I did it,” Jamie told him. “It doesna matter to me if ye do or no.”

“What do you expect you can offer this boy in your circumstances? It’s noble to offer to be a father to an orphaned child but––”

“I was a father long before this wee lad here,” Jamie interrupted firmly. “I became a father the day my wife told me she was with child. I didna stop being a father simply because the child was lost… no more than I stopped bein’ my father’s son the day he died. Ye dinna stop bein’ what ye were when circumstances change––ye can become more than what ye were before but ye dinna become less except by choice… except by how ye choose to see yerself.”

“That’s a noble philosophy but it doesn’t address the question of how you’ll provide for the boy––and I don’t just mean physically or monetarily,” Grey added. “The Dunsanys will see to both your needs as much as they can for the boy’s sake––with plenty of strings involved, I’m sure––but what do you plan to tell him? About his mother? About yourself? Christ, Jamie, I’m the only one here who even knows your true name.”

“I’ll tell him as much of the truth as I can but I’ll no lie to him,” Jamie informed Grey. “When he’s older and I’m able to take him far enough from Helwater for it to make no difference, I’ll tell him everything.”

Grey was shaking his head, still unconvinced.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Grey finally said, rising from the table and dumping the last few bites of his pie into the fire. It flared up as the flames ignited the grease.

Jamie chuckled and Grey’s head spun to watch him in confusion. “Of course I dinna ken what I’m doing––no father does. It’s something ye learn as ye go, same as most things. But this lad is mine and I’ll do what it takes to keep him safe and raise him well… even askin’ for help if and when I need it.” Grey’s eyes narrowed. “I ken that Lord and Lady Dunsany will no want to see the lad go from them and it willna matter what his age or what rumors follow him. But I also ken it wasna their influence that saw me paroled here rather than transported.”

Jamie let the weight of his observation and the as yet unasked favor underlying it to settle.

Grey’s mouth dropped slightly open for a moment before he shut it again. He nodded his understanding and reminded Jamie, “You will let me know of any concerns that arise during my quarterly visits.”

if you’re ready, ch 1 (a klance fic)

words: 2.2k
read it on AO3!

“Why was I wearing a wedding veil?” Lance asks, eyes narrowing in confusion.

“Oh wait..wait, shit! Shit! Did I marry a hot babe last night? Talk about a wild birthday!” Lance crows, waving his arms with glee.

“No,” says Keith. “You married me.”

In which the paladins visit Las Vegas for Lance’s 21st birthday, Keith and Lance get married, Allura goes missing, Pidge gets arrested, and Shiro goes to the spa.

a/n: I have no explanation for this other than the fact that I was listening to Marry You by Bruno Mars on the radio and this idea struck me like a bolt of lightning. And it’s going to be a wild ride, friends. Enjoy!

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“A Touch Unlike Any Other”

A Olicity Historical AU:  Touch can be so much more than just, physical.

A/N:  T-rated and 1 chapter of ?.   I’ve been struggling with writer’s block for a while and wanted to say thank you to three lovely friends for their friendship and never ending cheerleading.  It is so appreciated.  xo @tinaday3w @hope-for-olicity @quiveringbunny


Chapter 1

London, Spring of 1816

Oliver Queen, the Earl of Archer, concentrated on taking his next breath as he attempted to keep the piercing noises of the jubilant ballroom suppressed to a tolerable irritation.   Draw air in, as if inhaling the pleasing scent of a blooming flower.  Ease out, to attempt to relax.  Draw in.  Ease out.  Draw in.  Ease outHe repeated his personal mantra over and over in his mind.  If he could keep his concentration he just might make it through the night without embarrassing himself and his family.  

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Overtime at the Office (SMDR x Reader) Part 2

Pairing: Democratic Republicans x Reader

AN: So part 2 is finally here! I tried my best to make it good and if I get enough positive responses I’ll do a part 3 (though I probably going to make one regardless). I tried to make it kinky as I could with what I had and stay true to the characters’ personalities. LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!!!

WARNINGS: NSFW!!! D/S relationship, Toe Sucking, Submission, Spanking, Oral Sex, Rimming, Rough Sex, Tit-fucking, slight m/m, Language, Just overall smuttieness
You sat anxiously in a brown cowhide seat in Mr Jefferson’s office, James and Aaron were roosted on either side of you, their butts situated on the wide armrests. The entryway behind you opened and shut, the lock clicking into place. His delicate strides were peculiarly loud in the room as your nerves conveyed your body to a bizarre and destitute tremble.

Mr Jefferson strolled around before us and sat upon his work area.

“So, Teamwork…” he stated, and started to fix his tie, slipping it out through his neckline and grasping it. “(Y/N), you’ve been working here for about a year now. ” He grinned as he looked at you.

“Yes, sir.” you stated, wringing your hands. Your were still extremely horny, James and Aaron’s teasing still effecting you.

“I’ve been watching you, keeping a close eye on you, and you enjoyed what you saw. ”He gestured to James and Aaron. “Actually, I think we as a whole like what we see.” He looked from James to Aaron.

“I couldn’t agree with you more, Thomas.” James said, beside you, Aaron nodded his own accord, a sly smile gracing his great looking features.

“Excellent, then what I propose, gentlemen and lady, is that we do a few ‘team-building’ activities concentrating on ‘collaboration’.“ He grinned, leaning forward and running a hand along your jaw. You felt a uniquely pleasurable shiver go through your body.

“Is that all right with you, (Y/N)?” he asked, lifting your face to look at him. You smiled softly.

“That is fine, Mr Jefferson.” You stated, your voice trembling with energy. You could see the lump in his magenta pants from where you sat, it was essentially in your face.

“Good girl.” He chimed, straightening up and appearing to tower over you.

“Starting now, you will refer to Aaron and James as ‘Sir A & Sir J’ and you will call me ‘Master’, is that understood?” He asked you.

“Yes Si—Master.” You said, quickly correcting myself.

“If at any time you wish to stop, say the safe word, 'Election’. We’ll stop everything and make sure you are okay and after that you will be brought home.“ He pulled the silk tie through his hands, before he got a handle on the tie once more, pulling it through his hand and repeating the steps, as though he were euphorically foreseeing the night to come.

"This first exercise, will be one of trust.” He stated, pulling his tie tight and pushing ahead. Mr Jefferson wrapped it around your eyes, hindering your vision.

“You have to put stock in your colleagues and your manager to recognize what you require.” His voice talked near your ear. You gulped apprehensively and nodded in agreement.

“Yes, Master.” You said, voice scarcely over a whisper.

“Now some matters need to be handled delicately………”

You heard and felt the developments adjacent to you as the men in the room started to strip. At that point warm hands grasped your arms, pulling you upright to your feet. You felt energized, somewhat uncertain yet at the same time you felt protected, confiding in the men around you and your own sensibility when it went to your very own solace levels.

You’re garments was gradually, alluringly expelled until you remained in your bra, undies, thigh-high leggings and high heels. Grateful mumbles escaped from the men as they appreciated your body. Fingertips kept running along the lines of your collarbone, down over the highest points of your bosoms. Three sets of hands touched the trembling skin of your arm and legs, the bends of your butt and bosom, running over the hard buds of your nipples that were still dressed by your bra.

You moaned as you felt lips wrap around one of your wet lace covered buds, while a tongue slowly continued running over the curve of your neck. Your right foot was raised and you felt the heel being removed, the stocking peeled down your smooth leg along with your panties.

Your breath hitched in your throat as you felt two hands, ones you greatly suspected belonged to whoever’s lips were on your chest, undo your bra, while a different pair of lips kissed your now uncovered foot, the tongue between them slipping out to lick your toes before the lips enveloped your big toe into his warm wet mouth.

You didn’t think that you’d ever have your toes sucked, let alone by the most attractive man at the firm. You never saw the appeal or pleasure of doing it. Holy hell were you wrong, it was such a debauched feeling, scores of stimulating shudders wound inside the lower part of your waist, traveling directly to your wetness.

You panted as the bra was pulled far from your body, the cool air from the workplace’s mechanical aerating and cooling unit making your nipples become harder with excitement. The hot mouth discovered its way back to its objective, sucking, nipping and tenderly gnawing at the hard bud that he had attended to with relish. You shuddered as the mouth at your neck brushed his teeth along your skin, hitting a tender place that made your pussy weep and want.

The man’s hands palm your breasts. He tweaks both your nipples, then soothes. Harsh, then gentle. You’ve done rough, and you’ve done sweet, but never so close together. His soft touches tells you that your surprise expression was noticed. Then he twists harder, pulls at your stiffened peaks until you gasp.

“Lovely,” he rumbles. To escape the pain, you strongly hold the desk’s edge…And it turns him on. It’s sick. Twisted. You love it. He does it again. Your face is burning from the pain, and when your mouth opens in a wordless cry, someone sticks his tongue in your mouth and kisses you.

Whoever it was, he was a good kisser. Soft lips, a firm tongue. Not too wet… just enough so that his tongue slides smoothly between your lips. He explores your mouth, and you moan. Heat races to your center, wetness building. You feel it dribble out of you, and then hands are there, touching your slit, which is accessible because of your pose and groan as each mouth drew your body into a free for all of sensation. The mouth on your neck climbing to your ear.

“……Then there are situations that require a rougher touch to get the point across.”

You hear a slight metallic clank.

“Hold her down,” Jefferson commands, and soon paw-sized hands wrap around your wrists. You frantically look around, silently pleading, but the tie is still covering your eyes, so you couldn’t tell what was happening.

There’s a high whistling sound, and then the belt’s strap smacks across your buttocks. For a moment you didn’t feel anything.

And then the pain hit.

It didn’t hurt that bad, but then the second strike came, a second scream—louder but less surprised—then your wrists were released .

“You will be fucked so damn hard, (Y/N). We’ll make you come so hard and so much that you’ll learn the importance of the word 'cooperation’.” Mr Jefferson ground in your ear. His words making you shudder in sensual expectation.

“Yes… Master… ” You mumbled as you felt his hand come to down, stroking your free breasts, you shook as his hand traveled down over your stomach to the space between your thighs where he slipped his fingers over your sensitive wetness. You heard his moan of gratefulness thundering through his chest while James’s and Aaron’s wet tongues proceeded with their strike on your feet and breast.

“Fellows, we should really get our little sub set up, shouldn’t we?” he stated, running his fingers over your pussy as you groaned your thankfulness.

You were picked up and laid flat on Mr Jefferson’s desk. Your bare skin taking in the coldness of the wooden work area, and heating it with your own inner warmth. Your stinging rear end and wetness left hanging over the end and feet planted the floor.

You felt solid hands lift your hips so that your feet were elevated with just your toes touching the carpet. You felt hands massaging along your back and over the round cheeks of your butt. The touches emitting shudders and shocks of painful pleasure through your body, you groaned, just to be quieted tenderly with a stroke of your hair.

“Quiet now, darling. Let us get to the main event.” Mr Jeffer–Master said.

“Sir J and Sir A will deal with you for some time, while I watch. Then I can have my time with you.” Master’s voice floated away from you as his strides pounded delicately on the floor. You could hear him take a seat on the cowhide seat that you had possessed not ten minutes back. Your hands were taken and tied behind your back, Aaron pressed his lips against your shoulder.

“Let us know if it’s too much or if you want us to stop, (Y/N)… ” he whispered, then drew his tongue over your delicate flesh. You’d had no clue that the three bosses were so dominant, it made your pussy throb with desire as you thought of all the depraved things they wanted to do to your body.

Something you’d never at any point thought you’d do was submit yourself to such sinful delight, but here you were, tied, bound, and twisted over your supervisor’s work area while he watched his two partners set themselves up to utilize you as their sexual plaything. And fuck if it wasn’t one of your most erotic dreams brought to life.

“Oh my god!” you screamed, amazed by the skillful tongue lapping at your wet folds. You yipped in delight and then let it transform into erotic pants as the tongue licked across your labia.

“How does she taste, A?” James asked, and you realized that it must be Aaron who was expertly eating you out and making your legs gooey.

“She has got the tastiest little pussy, J.” Aaron said, running his tongue along your folds again, similar to a man biting the dust of thirst and just your juices could keep him alive. You held your hands together as you groaned, the beats of sensation going through your clit up to your center and back once more, after the long tongue that dove inside your pussy.

You started to gasp and groan as you felt your peak rising.

You felt James moving behind your body, Aaron was stooping between your legs, his nose squeezed hard against the delicate skin of your pussy, while his tongue prepped your body. You could detect the warmth of his breath each time he inhaled out through his nose, he breathed in your sex profoundly with every inward breath. As though he was a man kept from oxygen, he took in your musk. You felt James’ warm hands press against your rear end cheeks, isolating them.

“Such a delightful, delicious looking ass… Remember how I said I would eat it, (Y/N)?” he asked, you could feel him dropping himself down so his face was level with your rear end while Aaron dragged his tongue from the base of your opening to the tip of your clitoris, pushing aside the hood with his tongue to uncover the touchy bud that settled there. You heaved and shouted out with enthusiasm as you felt the climatic surge building.

“Do you remember, (Y/N)?” James asked, his hand ascending from your cheek and after that catching a hard roar as he spanked you. Clearly demanding an answer.

“Yes… ” You ground out.

“Yes, What?” he asked, giving you another harsh slap.

“Yes, Sir J!” You shouted out. You could feel Aaron’s tongue plunging inside you, face-fucking your pussy with energy. You moaned as you felt everything tense up, your midsection, your pussy, your heart, in reality your whole accursed body was shuddering as you felt the climax work to its top.

Right as you came, you felt James’ tongue slide over your butt hole, and more shockingly, inside your ass. You shook wildly, riding the sweet delight as Aaron pushed you over the edge. Your juices spilling out of your sensitive lips and into his mouth, which he slurped at ravenously while James did as said earlier and ate out butt, his tongue slipping past the tight ring. You shouted out over and over as another moment climax tore through you.

Aaron gave your pussy one last lick before he got to his feet. James wrapped up as well, twisting his tongue up inside you and stimulating your insides.

He pulled away and you groaned with the misfortune of losing the touch of his tongue. You heard Mr Jefferson get up from the seat behind you, and quickly felt his strong hands on each of your butt cheeks.

You felt him stand over and run his unpleasant tongue over your back. “A remarkable little moaner and screamer, aren’t you?” he laughed. You felt his hands trail along your back as he pressed his hard cock against your sobbing groin. You groaned, needing him inside you. You could feel his amazing size squeezing against your wanting crotch.

“Ahh, you need my dick do you, (Y/N)?” He asked, his voice brutal with desire.

“Yes, please… ” You yowled.

“Please… what?” His voice had a tone of threat in it

“Please give me your dick, Mr Jeff—.” You said submissively. A belt wallops your ass again, three times in quick succession. You cry out again. “ Sorry….I mean, please give me your dick, Master.”

You felt his hands moving and heard his pants being unzipped and the ripping sound of a condom wrapper. The delicate hisses as he touched himself, expelling his dick from the confines of his attire, lining his cock up with your pussy. Relieved and desperate, you push your hips back; if Master is fucking you, he won’t be able to smack you with the belt.…right?

“Sir J, kindly set yourself up before her, you may take her breasts and use them while I take her from behind.” His words sent a shudder down to your center and your pussy started to sob in excitement once more. You felt the blindfold being removed and you squinted a couple times as the light returned to your eyes.

The workplace lighting had been turned down, outside the cityscape was excellent. Glowing signs and those of the workplaces where the cleaning staff were working were glowing bright. The windows were reflected somewhat, so nobody could see in and watch what you were doing, yet it felt shameful with simply the prospect that somebody may watch what the four of you were doing at the moment.

Your considerations ended up noticeably scattered when Mr Jefferson squeezed the tip of his dick against your passage and ran it through your wet folds, covering it with your juices. You shrieked out a he pushed forward, hard. Piercing you deep.

You felt him poke against your cervix as he hammered in with more force, his voice moaning behind you as James sat on the edge of the desk, your breasts squishing against his hardened rod.

You felt his hands stroke the outside bends of your tits, squeezing against them, squashing them against his dick. You panted as Mr Jefferson drove himself into you, pounding ceaselessly, his balls hitting against your clit as your breasts gave James a decent rubbing.

Aaron, not one to be forgotten, moved up over James’ body, bowing on the desk, his hands are on the back of your head, and slamming his cock into your open mouth. You barely have time to open your mouth before he slams his cock deeper down your throat. He’s even longer than you’d realized, and so deep that he’s cutting off your airway. Though your lips are stretched wide around the base, he continues to force himself into you.

You took it avariciously, your tongue licking at the head as each push of your master’s dick pushed your mouth further onto Aaron’s shaft. For a fast moment he pulls halfway out, then he slams home again. You don’t attempt to control your breathing; he’s not the only one who has aggressions to work out. If you can get him off in a minute or two, that’s perfect. He’ll be down and out, and you’ll regain some composure then.

Your plan was immediately thwarted by James’ hard dick pushing against your cheek, needing some consideration also. You could notice his manly musk just for a moment before Aaron hauls out and pushes your head onto James’ cock. He controls your head on, making you fuck James’ fast, then slow, then fast. Then he shoves your face onto his own dick again, and the sounds of male satisfaction fill the room.

Mr Jefferson slams you hard, forcing you even deeper onto James. All of these men are close to orgasm. You can feel it in Jefferson’s fucking, and you can taste it on the two cocks you’re being forced to suck in shift.

Then Aaron moves back. You weren’t able to see what he’s doing because James is schooling you on his dick. He was humongous and hard as steel. It was one the biggest cocks you’ve ever seen, bigger than your wrist. Mouthwatering.

Miraculously, you were handling three-quarters of it. Though you can’t take credit for it; he pushed himself in there. There’s nothing lovely or provocative about it. You were a choking, gagging mess, and your body continued going firm in frenzy, which made Jefferson fuck you much harder.

“Great job, (Y/N),“ James calms as he releases your head. However, before you can pull away, he tenderly strokes your hair. "Remain here,” he states. “Long as you can. Hold your breath for me, suffer for me.”

So you do what he asks, sucking softly on his cock, attempting to swallow. All that does is massage him further. While your inexperienced with kink at this level, the three men know precisely what they’re doing. They have every advantage. Your not powerless, but rather here, in Mr Jefferson’s costly office, encompassed by your flawless managers. Your… flexible. For security, all you have is single word.

You’d be defenseless before even one of these men, regardless of the possibility that they weren’t so strong. They’re capable, and they’re rich. They could get you, purchase your life, your reality. Or, then again they could take you the way they have, stripping you down, making you suck and fuck them, spanking you till agony swung to delight.

He holds you deep on his cock, and you can feel the softness of the plump head in your throat, the pulsing of the twisted veins, the rigidity of the long, curved shaft. Truth be told, he has a gorgeous cock, both to look at and to suck. And you suspect he knows how to use it, though you doubted you’d ever get to experience it beyond rough oral…until later.

Mr Jefferson pushed himself all the way into your smooth pussy, and he’s not moving. After a couple of minutes, whatever you can feel is the vibe of being full. It makes your legs tremble in expectation…and stress that he’ll stop.

You run out breath yet continue attempting to suck James. With him not moving, you can feel his heartbeat all around your mouth. That is how extended around him you are. You need to satisfy him. It’s the first run through in years that you’ve minded what another person considers, and there’s no clarification for it; not like you had a profound discussion that persuaded you that James ought to be somebody critical in your life.

It was all in the way he fucked your mouth, utilizing you, pushing you far past your limits however gently guarding you to make sure you’re okay.

You groan, realizing that the vibrations in your throat turn him on, push him nearer to the climax that will release both of you. Tears are running down your face. In the event that anybody had strolled in on us at this moment, they’d either start running, or be so damned stimulated that they’d be asking to join you.

Your salivation spilled out of your mouth as you proceeded with the exceptionally sloppy blowjob, behind you, Mr Jefferson growled, your still-bound hands reaching down to caress his abdomen, right above where his cock extended from his delicious body. He groaned harder and pumped with incensed surrender as your tits rubbed the wooden surface in a craze, you felt his cock stiffen, and after that felt his tongue lick your ear…

“Look at them! Look at what James and Aaron are doing while I fuck you!” He quietly commanded as he angled your face with his strong hands. You hadn’t realized that James was also making out with Aaron and pumping him as your mouth pleasured him…No wonder the moaning and groaning was so loud.

You had no clue that James and Aaron had that sort of relationship… it was indeed a night of disclosures. For every one of us.

Mr Jefferson slams into you so hard that you have to hold onto the desk. It makes your legs tremble as you tighten around him. He sputters out a moan as you shout out your climax. You felt his hot cum surging inside the condom, right as James’ voice joined in a rough thunder, his own cum spilling into your mouth. You gulped it down like a good little sub, groaning at the hot, musky taste of it. Aaron came all over your chest and his stomach seconds later. The sticky hot seed covering your skin.

Mr Jefferson pumped himself into you a couple of more times, draining his seed inside you before he hauled out and hurled the utilized elastic in the junk can beside his work area. His hands touching your trembling ass and helping you up. You shuddered with the sensations as your body descended from the peak. Even as James gradually hauls out of your mouth, you need to concede that you felt protected. He has faultless control.

“That was great,” he says. “Not a lot of people can take that much me.”

“Thanks for the compliment, Sir J.” You say, massaging your soar jaw. “But can I have a breather please?”

Before you can ask for a breather or if they’re going for another round of debauchery, Mr Jefferson lifts you up and carries your limp body into his executive lavatory. Inside, it had a shower, which was obviously a perk of being the boss.

You lay in his solid arms, feeling secured and tended to while he turns on the hot water and sets it to an agreeable temperature. He washes your body, dealing with your pussy and ass, before he squeezed you against the tiles and runs his tongue between your ass cheeks once more. You feel his fingers circling the front of your body, slipping into your cunt as he gave you a good rimming.

Your groans were punctuated by little heaves of joy as he made you ride the rushes of rapture that he commanded from your body. When he had completed, he had you poor and aching once more, how much more could you be able to take from these men?

“Are you ready for some more?” Mr Jefferson asks from his position between your legs, his stubble tickling your inner thighs.

You were definitely willing to find out.

Ficlet Series: Secrets (Yoongi X Reader)

Rated: M (smut, swearing)

Word Count: 2937

A/N: Its a little cute in the beginning but don’t let that fool you

Masterpost: Ficlet Series: Secrets

Originally posted by strawberrie-kookie

“Hey, hot stuff,” you call, leaning against your roommate’s closed bedroom door with a broom in your hand. “If you get a second can you come out here and help me move the couch? I think I just saw something run under there.”

You straighten up and walk back to the living room, eyeing the couch with the broom held ready in your hands.

“I mean, it could have just been a shadow,” you say when you hear her door open behind you. “But it moved in an impressively coordinated way if it was. I think it was a spider and so help me if it was, we’re burning this flat down.”

When your roommate doesn’t reply you turn around and jump slightly at the sight of the person behind you. Instead of your roommate’s shock of brightly-coloured hair and her wide, toothy grin, you see the slight, expressionless figure of her cousin, Yoongi.

Keep reading

All I desire

A Drabble Games fic requested by @allyallyally-oh, featuring Thranduil

35: “I don’t like it when you cry.”
18: “Do you even care?”

Based on “Imagine telling Thranduil that his heart is as cold as the gems he desires but he says that all he desires is you” from ImaginexHobbit.


You entered the chambers you shared with Thranduil to find him directing the efforts of his personal attendants as they gathered a selection of traveling clothes from his wardrobes. He paused to greet you with a fleeting smile before turning his attention back to the calm, efficient bustle of activity that surrounded him.

“So it is true,” you said quietly. “You’re going to Erebor.”

Thranduil caught the eye of his valet, and with a minute flick of the King’s head, the servant shepherded his assistants to the door and bowed himself discreetly from the room.

Keep reading


She could smell her mother’s cooking, and reluctantly headed inside. Her father looked up from the T.V. as she came in, and gave her a smile.

“Hey there, pumpkin. How was the park?” he asked, pushing off the couch to give her a hug. Despite the sunny smile she plastered on her face, Jasey cringed internally as she returned it; her parents were so touchy-feely, all the time. It felt like just another way to invade her space, and she hated it. Still, she knew the role she played, and good children didn’t upset their parents.

“Hi Papa. It was good; there weren’t many people there today, which was nice,” she replied, pulling back.

“Well your mother is making dinner, so why don’t you go wash up?” She nodded and made her escape, grateful for an excuse to get away.


WrittenThroughTime - it has been an absolute pleasure to write for you this Christmas!  You know, when you get told you’re to be Secret Santa to an imagineclaireandjamie Mod, there’s a wee bit o’ panic that strikes, but special thanks to my friend, Gotham who checked my facts and cheered me on. Thanks mograidhjamie for organizing this. I know it’s not easy to coordinate!

So, Merry Christmas WTT, from your Secret Santa, notevenjokingrightnow.



“What time is it?”  She couldn’t see the clock from her current circle of light.

“It’s 5:35, Dr. Fraser.”  

Claire had been elbow deep in a patient with a ruptured spleen.  She had made the necessary repairs, and all that was needed was to close. She bent her head to the task. “Geilli, grab my phone will you? Text Jamie and tell him I’ll be on my way by 6:00.”  

Faced with the prospect of not working with Claire every day after she started medical school, Geillis had decided to become a surgical nurse.  The two were inseparable in the O.R. and were becoming somewhat of a legend in the hospital.  Co-workers teased that they had some kind of magic powers because they were fast, and efficient with a high surgical success rate.  

Geillis stripped off her gloves and retrieved Claire’s phone.  Hey Ginger Laddie! Wife will be on the way by 6. xoxo G.  And just to be naughty, Geillis added a tongue and kiss emoji.  

Claire stepped into the darkened auditorium.  It was so crowded, she’d never find Jamie in here.  She was just pulling out her phone to text him when he appeared at her side. He gave her a quick kiss on the lips, and grabbed her hand.  

“I’ve got us seats up front, Sassenach.  Murtagh’s saving them,” he whispered. “Stay low and quiet else they’re likely to stone us.”  He led her to the second row on the aisle.  

“Has she gone yet?  Have I missed her?”  Claire whispered on the way to their seats.  Jamie shook his head.  

Ten minutes later their daughter came on stage with her Primary One class. Taller than the other kids, with a gorgeous head of red hair, Brianna Ellen was dead centre.  Jamie videotaped the whole thing on his phone. Claire took a couple of pictures, but mostly just watched the miracle that was her daughter perform on stage.  She sang the loudest (and in tune, thank God), rang the jingle bells with gusto, and had one line to read into the microphone, which she said perfectly after practicing every minute of every day for two weeks.  When her class was dismissed from the stage, young Ewan tried to push in front of her.  Bree deftly hip checked him back into place revealing that time spent with Great-Uncle Dougal Mackenzie did indeed include playing with his caman collection and practicing some shinty moves.  

Returning home they drank hot chocolate on the fire escape, all bundled up together in the large Fraser plaid coverlet looking out at the Christmas lights of the city.  Jamie had the flat renovated shortly after they married. Claire was surprised to learn that Jamie owned both of them, and was able to connect the two making one an upstairs with an extra bathroom and bedrooms “for the bairns”, and the other a downstairs with a study for Claire, and an office for him.  

After seeing Bree off to sleep, Jamie settled into bed beside his wife.  He sighed, when he saw what she was wearing.  “I’ve told ye a thousand times o’re the last 10 years ye wear too many clothes to bed.”

“I’m freezing!”  Claire tried to scoot closer but Jamie held her off.

“Ye of all people know the power of body heat, Claire.”  He lifted a sardonic eyebrow.  

Claire shivered.  “I can’t.”

Jamie nodded.  “I see.  Well then, I can.”  He dove under the covers to grab at her sleep pants and tugged.  Claire giggled and twisted and tried to stop him, but it was impossible.  He rid her of her pants and then ran his hands up her sides, making her ticklish. Laughing, she bucked, trying to get away. He finally stilled her by taking a breast in his mouth, which allowed him time to get the sweatshirt over her head.  He made his way out from under the blanket, covering his wife’s body with his own and gave her a long, lazy kiss.

“Did she go to bed for you okay?” Claire asked, rubbing the nape of her husband’s neck.

“Oh, aye.  Full o’ stories and pleadin’ to read one more book.”

Claire laughed.  “She was glorious in her Christmas concert tonight, wasn’t she?”

Jamie smiled, “Aye.  She was.”  He stroked her hair back from her face.  

Claire’s smile faltered.  “I couldn’t help but think…”

Jamie stopped his wife with a kiss.  “Me, too, mo graidh.  She’d ha’ been in Primary Three, singing wi’ that class.”  Claire’s miscarriage still haunted them from time to time, rearing its head when they least expected it.  In some ways Claire blamed herself, being a resident and on her feet so much.  No one could have foreseen the ruptured placenta that lost them a daughter.

He bumped her nose with his, knowing what would lighten the mood.  “So. What’s the date, then?”  

Claire shoved at her husband’s chest.  “Honestly, Jamie.  There’s no surprising you.  Ever.”

“How does a man no’ ken his wife is pregnant?”  Jamie was genuinely shocked.  

“Because other men don’t pay attention?  Friends at work have such cute stories of how they tell their husbands they’re expecting, and I can’t!”  She tugged at the red curls at his nape.

Jamie flexed his hips against Claire’s.  “Other men dinna make love to their wives enough, then, if they dinna ken the rhythm of their bodies, or how their breasts change.”

Her legs shifted to cradle him more.  “This summer. June twelfth is my due date.”

Jamie grinned.  Then laughed in joy.  “Ye make me the happiest man on Earth, Sassenach.”  He slid to the side and gathered Claire in his arms.  Their legs tangled seductively.  She was plenty warm enough now.  

“Och, I forgot to tell ye!” he said.  “I got a notice from the Council.  Seems they want to get rid of the fire escapes in the city.  Apparently with new building codes, it isna necessary to have a fire escape anymore.  The city will pay to take it down, but they need my permission first as owner of the building.  And I’ll no’ be givin’ that.”

Claire hugged him tight. “Are you sure?”  

Jamie’s chin rested on his wife’s head, her untamed curls brushing his neck and chest.  His voice was low and contemplative as he spoke. “That escape brought ye to me, Claire.  It brought me this life, this incredible love.  This child, the one before it and the one we’ll meet in Heaven. I’ll never have it removed.”

Claire couldn’t control the tears that flooded her eyes at his words.  She let them spill over onto his chest.  Jamie continued, “Ye came into my life via that iron bridge.  I am forever grateful.  It let me escape a life of solitude, void of love and passion.  It gave me a legacy of my own.  ”

Jamie ran a hand down his wife’s curves from shoulder to thigh.  “My Da always said I’d ken when the right woman came along.  He was right.”  

Claire smiled against the red curls of her husband’s chest.

“He just never told me the right woman would be a Sassenach wench wi’ a rock solid head, a tongue like an adder’s and a lovely round arse.”

Claire shrieked and pinched her husband’s arse in response.  They tussled and laughed and Jamie managed to turn his wife in his arms and settle her sweet backside against him.  As the night settled around them and a snow gently began to fall outside, Jamie splayed his big hand over his wife’s womb. He kissed the spot on her neck that he’d kissed a thousand times and whispered the words they said on their wedding day, “Then let amourous kisses dwell, on our lips, begin and tell…”

Claire snuggled back into her husband, placed her hand over his and whispered her part. “A thousand and a hundred score, a hundred and a thousand more.”

Jamie sighed. 

“Ah, Claire. Ye do break my heart with lovin’ ye.”

                                                        THE END

What Can I Do?

A Seungri/Lee Seunghyun Fanfiction

Summary: He’s known as one of the most eligible bachelors in kpop, with a reputation that’s known all over South Korea. But when he sets his sights on you, determined to make you one of his conquests, you think that maybe its time for this ‘sexy boy’ to learn his lesson…

Chapter Summary: Giving it all to you…

Chapter Type: Fluff….fluff…slight smut….SMUT.

Author’s Note: I apologise for how late this is, but something unexpected happened yesterday and so there wasn’t any way for me to get anything out, sorry lovelies!! ^3^

Recommended Listening:  This is Living (Acoustic)

Chapter 19 (coming soon)

Chapter 18

‘So, do you come here often?’

You grin at Seungri as he asks you the question and offers you some of his drink, taking a sip and cringing at the strong earthy taste of it, hitting him lightly when he chuckles at your reaction.

'What is that?’ you ask, watching him take a sip himself and giggling when he too barely refrains from grimacing.

'Some sort of scotch I think, Seunghyun hyung-’

'Its Johnnie Walker, double black- nothing too special.’ Seunghyun pipes up from beside him, not looking your way until he’d put a card down on the table with almost too much focus, but smiling when he eventually catches your eye.

'So, who’s the friend you brought?’ he asks, swivelling his eyes in the direction of Lily and Jiyong and you raise your eyebrows at everyone’s interest in her, not realising that she’d garner so much attention, but being glad that they all seemed to be somewhat accepting of her.

'Her name’s Lily- she’s a model.’ you say, watching Seunghyun as his eyes widen almost comically, before he quickly plasters a reserved expression on his face as if nothing had ever happened.

'Why do you ask?’ you say, barely paying attention to Youngbae’s tirade as Jiyong beats him at the card game again, before Lily mutters something to him and the two of them walk off- presumably towards the dancefloor.

'No reason.’ Seunghyun mutters, flashing you a quick, albeit strained, smile before standing and grabbing his glass.

'Anyone for another round?’ he asks, although he’s so preoccupied by whatever thoughts he was having, that he doesn’t even stop when Daesung hold his glass up, simply walking quickly from the room and the younger man has to scramble after him, a look of concern on his face as he goes.

'What was that about?’ you ask Seungri, turning to look at him and seeing his look of bewilderment.

'No idea.’ he murmurs back, shrugging before looking up at you and a slow smirk begins to grow on his lips.

'Whats that look for?’ you ask, barely covering your blush from having him stare at you, but giggling when he snuffles his face into your neck under your chin, pulling you closer into him as he does so.

Keep reading

andyourteeth  asked:

Phone call. [For the writing prompt ;)]

Judy… had never really had a friend before.

Not really.

In third grade she had Suzie Bumper, but Suzie had stolen her crayons and that had ended that.

In fourth and fifth grade she’d had Elijah Lucks but he’d called her a teachers pet and she’d kicked him in the knee and that had ended that.

In seventh grade she’d met a nice girl, Daria; but Daria had moved away and hadn’t called her back.

In tenth grade, a rabbit with brown fur had stopped in front of Judy’s lunch table, where she sat (eating. alone. a common occurrence.) and told her plainly that no one wanted to be friends with a rule following clingy weirdo.

So Judy stopped clinging.

Stopped calling.

Stopped trying.

By the end of school, Judy had no friends. And those who weren’t didn’t seem to mind much, anyway.

They were right. She did cling. She did find things she loved and held fast, held strong. Her laughs were too loud and her grip was too tight. She’d send twenty texts before there was a chance to respond and her thirst for Justice was a vibrant topic of constant conversation.

Judy was born to be friendless.

So when she wakes from a dream about claws and teeth (i want you to remember this…) she tosses her phone back and forth in her hands and ignores the salt dripping down her chin.

She shouldn’t call. No one liked a clinger. No one liked the animals that held too tightly, and really, she should just forget about it and talk to him in the morning. No one liked the annoying loud mouth or the chatty know-it-all. All her friends had been lost like that.

She puts down the phone.

Tries to sleep.



She gets up and picks up the phone and thinks that if she’s going to lose a friend tonight, she might as well get it over with, and it rings, and rings, and each ring is just another rung up this awful ladder to the ending that has to happen, because she’s Judy, and she loses friends, and that’s just who she-

“Carrots?” She swallows. Her mind goes blank. She can hear him yawn. “Judes… it’s two in the morning.”

“Sorry…” she breathes. “Sorry, I didn’t mean-”


A beat. Then: “I had a nightmare. It’s not a big deal. You go back to-”

“No, no, just…” he yawns again, and she imagines his teeth in the slatted moonlight from between the grating of the fire escape out his window. “Let me get coffee. Then tell me all about it.”

Judy Hopps thought she was born to be friendless.

Now she holds tighter. Tighter still. And when she sniffles out, “Thanks,” she means a hundred different things all at once, and all of them are the same. “Thanks, Nick.”

”No big deal.” His coffee pot gives a chortle. “Tell me all about it.”

anonymous asked:

hey! I'm new to your blog (I'm loving all of your writing) and I'm sorry if I'm not specific enough, but here's my request: Cal and reader have been dating for awhile, but reader begins to feel deeply insecure about them self, and it's getting in the way of their relationship because reader doesn't feel good enough for Cal. Cal tries to comfort then and show them that they're perfect the way they are. (I'm sorry if someone has suggested this before, thank you!)

Hello lovely! Thanks for your request, I hope this is okay! :D X

It seemed like you’d been having an ‘off day’ for the past few months now; it felt like nothing was going right and you began to feel more and more hatred and contempt for yourself as the days went on.

It wasn’t just your appearance (though you were cripplingly insecure about every aspect of it); it was your personality, too. Everything about you could be improved upon, and you didn’t know where to start.

It had been a busy day and you stood in the kitchen making dinner, slightly distracted before familiar arms snaked around your waist, accompanied by a chin resting on your shoulder.

Your face screwed up in discomfort as Calvin’s fingers lingered on your waist - it was one of your many insecurities.

In order to escape the predicament you nudged a knife and it clattered to the floor, giving you an excuse to wriggle out of Calvin’s grip to retrieve it.

His arms retracted (much to your relief), and you continued what you were doing until he spoke. His suggestion made you close your eyes momentarily in disbelief.

‘Y/n, I was wondering… we’ve not done a video together in a while. D'you wanna film onetonight?’

The thought of opening yourself up to so much criticism and public scrutiny in your current state of mind made you nauseous to the point of physical sickness and you knew you wouldn’t be able to deal with it… but you didn’t want to tell Calvin how you were feeling; he worried about you far too much and you didn’t want to stress him out.

The look on your face worried him and he knew immediately that something was bothering you.

He found it slightly amusing that you weren’t aware of how well he knew you and your mannerisms - to everyone else you were hard to read, but to him you were an open book.

‘I can’t do a video Cal, I’m so sorry.’ Your voice broke as you blurted the words and he chuckled slightly, though his serious tone of voice didn’t reflect the humour. ‘It’s fine, Y/n. Don’t worry about it.’

The way your body tensed as he slid an arm around your waist and pulled your body to his told him all he needed to know.

'What’s wrong?’ He asked, his voice quiet and concerned as he took the knife out of your hands and laid it flat on the counter.

'Look at me,’ his voice was impossible to say no to.

Sighing as you turned, you leaned against the countertop as his eyes explored yours.

'Talk to me.’

That was just it - you didn’t know where to start.

It crossed your mind that how you felt could be misconstrued as self pity and the thought sickened you, but you were beginning to feel overwhelmed.

'Dinner.’ You blurted, cursing yourself for the shitty excuse as soon as it left your mouth. 'I don’t know what to do for dinner.’

'Oh,’ Calvin raised an eyebrow, wondering what the hell was wrong.

'We’ll just go out for something to eat then. Come on.’

Maybe some fresh air would make you relax and talk to him, he figured. He knew you probably just needed time.

The restaurant was crowded as fuck and you stuck close to Calvin’s side as he made reservations for a table and was pointed to one at the back of the room.

Good; secluded. Quiet.

As you walked through the rows of tables, you could swear that every single person in the room was looking you up and down and judging everything about you.

A grateful sigh escaped your lips as you sat down and the constrictive feeling in your chest began to ease slightly.

Conversation began and your worries and concerns melted away as they always did in Calvin’s company. The food was delicious, though you had to take short breaks from eating because Calvin made you laugh so much.

He was so fucking amazing, you didn’t deserve him.

You didn’t deserve him.

The thought echoed in your brain and you glanced down at the food on your plate.

You didn’t deserve this.

Why did you let him take you out when you could have easily made something to eat?

Because you’re selfish. You take advantage of him. You will never deserve him-

A group of girls walked in who looked like they’d just stepped off a red carpet, and a glance at your own clothes that stood in stark contrast to theirs intensified the hatred for yourself that burned in your stomach.

The girl at the front had long blonde hair and wore a short skirt and a crop top.

She looked fantastic.

Her eyes observed Calvin and she flicked her golden hair over her shoulder as she caught the awareness of her little group and pointed their attention in your direction.

Well, Calvin’s direction.

Calvin’s eyes stayed firmly locked on you and he tapped your plate gently with his fork. Your eyes refocused on him and he smiled an adorable half smile as he spoke. 'Hello?’

He chuckled at your lack of a reaction and you forced a smile as you picked your cutlery back up and tried to resume eating.

A knot had developed in your stomach that was as all-consuming as the self hatred that refused to let you think of anything else other than how inadequate you were.


'I’ll pay.’ The words came out sounding almost desperate and Calvin turned to look at you, incredulous.

'What? No.’ His extremely predictable response made you feel even worse.

'Please? You payed last time.’

'Too late,’ he teased as he handed his card to the man at the desk.

See? All you do is take advantage of him. They’re right about you - you’re an ungrateful bitch who just uses him. He deserves better.


Tears stung your eyes as the car pulled into the driveway and you rushed inside the house, determined not to let yourself fall apart in front of him.

'Y/n!’ His voice was concerned and sincere and a whimper left your lips before you could stop it.

He caught up with you and grabbed your wrist, stopping you from going anywhere.

'Y/n! What’s wrong? Will you just talk to me? Please?’

'You should have let me pay for dinner!’ You inadvertently snapped at him and he dropped your arm, taking a step back from you.

'What? Is that what this is about?’

'Yes! No… I don’t know.’

'What is wrong with you recently? Why won’t you just talk to me?’ He ran his hand through his hair in frustration, beginning to pace around the room.

At that, you exploded.

'Because I don’t fucking deserve you, Calvin! You deserve someone stunning, someone who’s a much better person than me. I’m awful - insufferable. I’m ugly in every sense of the word and I’m so sorry you have to put up with me.’ Tears streamed down your face as a torrent of raw emotion spilled from your lips.

'You deserve someone like that girl in the restaurant - pretty and perfect. You deserve the best, and I’m just not it.’

Your tone became quieter as you realised what this could mean and you collapsed on the sofa with your head in your hands - defeated.

'If you want to end this - us - right now, I wouldn’t blame you.’

Silence blanketed the room as the emotions swirling inside you intensified to an unbearable degree and tears flowed down your face at an unparalleled vigour.

Calvin’s warm arms encircled you and he pulled you to his chest wordlessly and rocked you back and forth in his arms.

That was Calvin; calm during the storm.

You prepared yourself.

'Are you gonna break up with me?’ You managed through your tears, unable to meet his gaze as he held you, and he felt his heart ache for the pain you were feeling.

'No, baby. I’m not going anywhere,’ he said softly as he held you tighter and wiped your tears away with his thumb.

'How could you think that about yourself?’ He asked quietly, his chocolate brown eyes glistening as he imagined what you had been going through while he was completely oblivious.

'Because its true.’ You sniffed and he scoffed. 'I can’t believe you think that. You’re fucking amazing, Y/n. I wouldn’t survive without you. You mean fucking everything to me, and you’re so, so beautiful,’ his fingers under your chin gently encouraged you to look at him, 'inside and out.’

How did he do that? How did he manage to override your illogical thoughts when you found it impossible?

His soft, warm, familiar lips met yours and the kiss tasted like tears but it didn’t matter because he thought you were beautiful.

Inside and out, he said.

And he meant every fucking word.

I hope that was what you wanted! :) Requests/feedback always welcome! Stay safe babies and I luv u!! 


why tweedle needs to be eaten by a train

By agathaheterodyne

the short version: for trying to assert physical, political, and sexual ownership over a teenage girl for fun and profit (and power).

the long version: you ask, i deliver. (merry christmas, let’s itemize everything disgusting tweedle has ever done.) if you can put this under a cut when you post it i’d recommend it, it’s not giving the opportunity here.

WARNINGS: tweedle. if you don’t read gg, basically consider this a content warning for controlling and predatory behavior of all types, including sexual.

since your questioner hasn’t read girl genius, some brief background! the comic’s tl;dr is “mad scientists rule the world, badly.” the hero is the eponymous girl genius, agatha heterodyne. she is eighteen and has come into possession of a mad science city, a mad science sentient murdercastle, and a mad science monster army. ANYWAY.

when we meet tweedle, whose real name is martellus, but i refuse to call him that because he doesn’t deserve it, he seems harmless but irritating. THEN he:

  • kidnaps agatha. 
  • because of an in-world legend, the reason for the kidnapping is very heavily implied to be forced marriage.
  • he also keeps referring to her as “my heterodyne girl” and getting furious with others for taking away what he sees as his property.
  • stabs and poisons another protagonist and one of agatha’s love interests (who also happens to be tweedle’s cousin — whatever you’re thinking i promise you that family is more screwed up than you think)
  • after the kidnapping, while agatha is unconscious, alone, and chained up, he chemically alters her body so that she will die if she doesn’t touch him. (she proceeds to knock him out, free herself, replace the need to touch him with a modified pet weasel, and escape his castle in a mechanical swan sleigh that shoots lasers, because girl genius is that kind of comic.)
  • while he tells her what he’s done to her, he also informs her that he would have given her a love potion to make her into his “adoring slave,” except he didn’t want to risk making her useless to him. he seems to expect her to be grateful.
  • after she escapes he chases her cross-country and manages to use his political connections to infiltrate the place she ended up. 
  • most recently he graduated to groping her (ASSAULT YAY) and got a knee to the crotch for his troubles.
  • all of her friends keep trying to encourage her to just kill him. she doesn’t want to.
  • AND the reason everyone specifically wants him to be eaten by a train is that there is currently a ravenous train-monster built by agatha’s ancestors on the loose. because girl genius is that kind of comic.

anyway, the point is that tweedle is sexually predatory and entitled and cruel, and for a lot of people reading gg right now he’s making the comic less fun to read. we’re obviously supposed to hate him, it’s just that a lot of us wish he wasn’t there to have to hate.

we already have: the genocidal big bad who killed her infant son, only had her daughter so she could take over her body, and flattened half of europe; the minor villain working for and infatuated with the big bad who serial-murdered girls while trying to upload her into their brains, and who, after all of the other girls died, used his own daughter; and the other harmless-seeming character who tried to usurp agatha, went ax crazy, nearly killed yet another protagonist, and eventually uploaded the big bad into her own brain for her own ends. i really don’t think we need another hate sink.

To the anon who was wondering why there is a fandom that has unanimously agreed that a character nicknamed Tweedle needs to be EATEN BY A TRAIN

Sick Day

Relationship: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Word Count: 1,770
Description: Dean is in denial that he’s sick and Cas is tired of his shit.
Author’s Note: Yeah so I’m sick and this is the kinda shit I come up with apparently. Imma get some meds now bye

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“Okay, blow.”

“Cas, this is-”

“Dean. Blow.”

“I don’t even h-”

“Just blow.”

Dean rolled his eyes, defeated, and leaned forward, pressing his face into the soft material in Cas’s hand and blew.

His ears popped as he forced air from his nose and his head throbbed slightly from the build of pressure.

Cas waited patiently until Dean finished, then pinched slightly and pulled the tissue from Dean’s face.

“Okay, now fluids,” he said, forcing a glass of orange juice into Dean’s hands before leaving to toss the snot rag.

“Cas, this is getting ridiculous,” Dean grouched as he sunk back into the couch.

“The doctor said to blow your nose often,” was Cas’s response.

“You mean WebMD.”

“Well, you refused to go to the doctor.”

“Because I’m not sick!” Dean said for what was probably the hundredth time. “It’s just allergies.”

“You have a fever.”

“Because you’re making me sit under fifty fucking blankets!”

Cas ignored him and reached for the empty mug on the table. “I’m going to get you some more tea.”

“I don’t even like tea!” Dean called but Cas just kept walking toward the kitchen.

This had been Dean’s life the last two days, ever since he’d made the mistake of sneezing in front of Cas. Dean appreciated how worried he was – he really did. Cas was a great friend and an amazing boyfriend and he loved him to bits. But Cas was a shit caregiver.

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Jean Jackets, Boots, and I Love You’s (Part 3)

Note: So, this is the final installment to this three parter. I loved writing this. I’m still working on Moments Gone, there shall be a new chapter up this week…eventually. A Joshaya one too, and I’m currently writing a Smarkle superhero one shot with Farkle as Spider-Man.

Lucas Friar suddenly opened the bay window with a loud bang, causing Riley to jump. She stepped off her bed, her wide eyes following him as he climbed inside.

“Lucas, what are you doing here?” She squeaked out.

“Since we broke up I figured I’d get my things,” He stated simply. “You gave me all my shoes back except one and I want it back.”

Riley’s face faltered as Lucas plucked his boot off her nightstand. It was the first boot her father ever took from him when he chased him out.

“F-fine,” She stuttered out, her voice swelling with emotions she was trying to hold back. “Take it. I don’t want it.”

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