two chins

Go put on your clothes, gotta look good while we decompose.

Sherlock Holmes loves bees but is terrified of wasps : Ficlet

(Read at your own risk please)

Just another normal Sunday in 221B.

Like as far as normal it gets.

John with his newspaper in one hand, cup of tea in another. His breakfast plate on the floor. Empty.

Sherlock huddled over his laptop. Eyebrows knitted, creases on his forehead, glaring at the screen and continuously muttering about the stupidity of the common people. His breakfast plate on the table. Completely untouched.

“Listen to this email John. ‘Dear Mr. Holmes. My boyfriend doesn’t love me anymore. I can feel it. We have sex regularly. But he doesn’t love me. Can you prove that he doesn’t love me?’”

John looked up at Sherlock , chuckled.

“No John don’t smile. Am I a kind of love detective now? This is ridiculous! There is not a single case to be worthy enough. God I hate this!”

Sherlock closed his laptop with a bang. Put his elbows on the table, Two fingers on the chin. His usual thinking pose. John returned his attention to the newspaper.

Suddenly Sherlock jumped from his place, almost landing in John’s lap. Then crawling behind John’s chair.

It took John some moments to realize what happened.

“What the hell Sherlock?”John shoved his newspaper away to look at the detective, now huddled behind the chair and peeking.

Sherlock murmured something.

“What?”

“Don’t shout John. There is a wasp in the room.”

John looked at Sherlock face for a few seconds. Then burst out laughing.

“You are crawling on the floor and whispering because there is a wasp in the room? Oh my god! This is not happening.”John was gasping for air.

Sherlock face was starting to redden.

“Shut up John. There is a legit reason.”

“Hhuhh.” John was still laughing and wiping tears.”What can be the legit reason behind a grown ass man being afraid of wasps?”

“I will tell you later. Now get rid of it first. I am here till then.” Sherlock sat on the floor. Guarding himself by John’s chair.

“I can’t even see it. Where is it?’ John stood up.

“On the table” Sherlock whispered.

Two things happened at once. John moved towards the table and the wasp started to fly. And like it can sense fear, flew towards Sherlock’s hiding place.

Sherlock who was peeking, saw that and sprinted towards the kitchen.

“GET A BROOM OR SOMETHING JOHN! THIS THING IS GOING TO KILL ME !!”

John burst in another round of laughter. Sherlock was hiding under the kitchen table this time, glaring at John.

“Ok, ok. Let me see.”

John rolled the newspaper and moved to the kitchen table. Where the wasp was sitting , not caring about the grown up man hiding under it.

Tharsh.

“Ok, now get out. Wasp is dead.”

Sherlock crawled and came out. His suit crinkled ,hair a mess. Then stopped in front of the table and looked at the dead wasp.

“I am always fascinated about bees. When I was very little, I mistook an wasp for a bee and that thing stung me. It hurt like hell.” Sherlock pouted his lips.

“Aren’t you a curious thing? You solve crimes, catch serial killers, stop bombing, save people. And you are afraid of tiny little wasp?”

John ran his finger through Sherlock’s hair. Taming the mess.

“Come here “John spread his hand in an invitation.

Sherlock hugged John and put his head on John’s shoulder. John felt Sherlock nuzzle at his neck.

“You love bees?”

“Yes. But not more than you.”

“Oh I am sure of that.” John hugged back tightly.

 

John gifted Sherlock a bee printed bed sheet in their next anniversary.

Some bee printed underwear next year. Sherlock was really happy at that.

A bee t-shirt the next year.

A bee painting the year after.

‘I love bees’ mug one year.

 

A wasp was flying in front of them. Sherlock showed no signs of being afraid.

“So, not afraid of wasps anymore. Are we?”John chuckled softly.

Sherlock didn’t answer.

He doesn’t answer now-a-days.

A soft breeze blew, John felt goose bumps.

The wasp sat on the tombstone.

The sunlight made the words glisten.

“Sherlock Holmes.

Beloved Son, husband, brother, friend

And consulting detective.”

 

 Tagging some people who might enjoy

@missartemisholmes @missmuffin221 @lmirandas @ithotofangelschokingontheirhalos @whereisjawn @chinike @loveinthemindpalace @willowgrovecreates @disregardedletters 

10

Poirot has a dental appointment

Right Round [a Kyle Spencer smut]

Request: None

a/n: guess who’s  back….back again. Jules is back, back with frat smut REQUESTS STILL CLOSED

WARNING: Smut, angst


Kyle doesn’t like going to strip clubs; this is of course one of his frat brothers ideas. A bright idea that he had to tag along with. The heavy smell of alcohol and sex hits him when they step in, showing their IDs and heading towards the back. Black leather half circle booths frame the T-shaped stage that has multiple silver poles bolted to the sleek floor and ceiling; a few girls on a couple. They’re just wearing lingerie.

Awkwardly, Kyle follows the rest of the group, sliding in at the end of the booth. Biting his lip, he looks down at his jeans while a few girls strut over to his friends. Sexy Can I blasts through the club; he mutters some of the words under his breath. Suddenly, two fingers force his chin up, his brown eyes meet Y/C/E ones.

He gulps, trying not to stare at the light blue lace bra and panties that the girl is wearing. Instead, he looks at her face; her powdered pink cheeks, the smear of blue on her eyelids, matching her outfit. “You look a little lonely, handsome. Mind if I join?” She purrs in the shell of his ear while she sits on his lap, straddling him.

A chill shoots down his spine. Hands toy with the collar of his navy blue frat shirt, soon running down his chest ever so slowly. Kyle shakes his head; blonde curls flying around. The girl smiles, moving her ass in a circular motion against his slender hips. “I…” An ugly moan escapes from his lips; the feeling of contact on his member driving him crazy.

Those perfect shimmering pink lips turn up in a sly smirk. The cushion underneath the blond vibrates along to the beat of the song, making his erection stand in his tight pants. It hits her yet she continues grinding on him. “You like this, eh frat boy?” She muses, peppering open-mouth kisses against his pale neck.

“Can-uh-we get a room?” The words slip out of Kyle’s mouth surprisingly. It’s not like him to say something like that. His eyes practically pop out of his head. This girl on top of him is absolutely stunning…and here he is with a wet spot on his jeans and a throbbing dick.

She giggles, sliding her hands up his double layered shirt. Inwardly, he screams at her touch, the feeling of pressure on his stomach sending a burning fire in his body. “If you want a room…” Her voice echoes through his head like a beautiful song, “It’s gonna cost you, pretty boy.” She smirks; fragile hands inching lower and lower towards his tight fitting pants.

Kyle knows he shouldn’t; after all, he’s the ‘leader’…and this girl…is a stripper. Not that it’s bad but he tends to get too attached. “Okay.” He nods, beginning to become uncomfortable in his own clothes. She smiles, climbing off him and grabbing his strong hand. His legs feel like gell-o when he stands, following her behind the stage, through the mass of men and women. Wolf-whistles from his brothers fade into the distance; a blush taking their place.

She leads him through a gray narrow hallway, past half naked people trying to collect themselves. A strong smell of sex and sweat hits Kyle like a freight train; his converse squeak to a stop outside of a room. The girl slides a card in the silver door handle and when the red light turns green, she pushes him inside, slamming the door. “You don’t have money, do you?” She jests, crossing her arms over her breasts.

His doe eyes widen in realization she’s coming closer. While he backs up, his hands search in his pockets. The backs of his legs smack the mattress, sending him flying backwards. He pulls a wad of cash from his jean pocket. “This is all I have.” He says, handing the cash over. “Please, I need something!” He begs, head dramatically falling on the cream sheets, fanning his curls around.

“Eight dollars isn’t even enough for a blow job, sweetie.” She chuckles, gesturing to the money in her hand. Kyle groans, letting an arm swing so he’s able to palm himself. He’s desperate; he needs release. “But maybe we can discuss payment later…” She whispers, hovering over his lap, moving his hand before sitting.

A deep groan comes from his throat when her hand pops the button on his jeans. His eyelids flutter closed; nose scrunching. “I…oh god, I’m Kyle.” He stutters, reaching out to touch her soft hips. She doesn’t reply, just smirks, tugging at his polo shirt. “Wait, do I get to know your name?” He asks; voice muffled by his shirt, which she’s pulling off.

As she climbs on top of the frat boy, he repositions himself so he’s laying the right way at the head of the bed. Her knees dig in the mattress on both sides of his hips, which are only covered by a pair of orange boxer briefs; his jeans pool around his ankles. “You really don’t get this whole stripper thing, do you?” She chuckles, reaching behind her back. “Maybe next time Kyle.”

The turquoise bra slips down her arms, soon discarded on the floor; Kyle gulps at the sight of her breasts, cock aching for contact. Frantically, he yanks his boxers down, his throbbing cock slapping his stomach. “But…what if…” He groans, seeing the dinky underwear slide off her legs.

She positions herself and sinks down on his dick, placing both hands on his buff yet pudgy chest. A moan comes from her parted pink lips, causing Kyle to cry out in pleasure. “U-usually I don’t…ah, don’t do this…” She breathes out, slowly moving up and down; the blond grips the satin sheets in his fists. “You like being sub, right?” She asks, her Y/C/H hair falling over his eyebrow.

Bucking his hips up into her, Kyle nods, droplets of sweat cascading down his forehead. He didn’t expect for this to happen; a beautiful girl on top of him. “God yes, I’m totally sub… just please move!” He whines, hands wrapping around the black wood bedposts. His cock twitches inside her with each bounce. Groaning, more like a growling, he arches his back. “Can I touch you? Please, please let me touch you, beautiful.” He begs, eying her breasts. Kyle needs contact, he needs to be able to touch.

Much to his dismay, she stops moving completely. Her eyes widen, making the blue eyeshadow really pop out. “W-what did you just call me?” She questions, voice barely above a whisper. It’s as if something inside cracked.

The frat boy quirks an eyebrow. “Beautiful? Why- wait, where are you going?” He frowns, feeling her get off him. He shivers, sitting up and furrowing his eyebrows together.

Shaking her head, she steps in her underwear, pulling them up her legs. “I-I’m sorry, I can’t… I need to go. My shifts is over anyway.” She says in a rush, avoiding his intense eye contact. Clipping her bra, she sprints towards the blue high heels, struggling to guide them on her feet.

Kyle hops out of the bed, grabbing his shirt but not putting it on. Did he say the wrong thing? “Hey, wait!” He yells, taking a step near her. Yet, he forgets his pants and boxers are bunched at his ankles, causing him to faceplant on the red carpet. He groans, “I don’t know your name, beautiful!”

“Stop calling me that!” She screams, tears welling in her eyes. He stands up, following after her; she walks out of the room, disappearing in the crowd of people. Kyle leans on the doorway, pants still down, frowning. He’s coming back in a few days; when his head stops spinning.

Stand Back

60. “Do me a favour? Stand back.”

Cas x Reader

You’re beaten, bloody, and bruised. Pain seems to have absorbed into your bones; even where you’re not bleeding there’s a constant ache that seems to pulse through your body with every breath.

“Oh, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N.” The demon places two fingers under your chin, grinning maniacally, “You can go, if you just tell me: Where is Castiel?”

You don’t even have the strength to work up a mouthful of spit (and blood, at this point) to project at him – thankfully, you don’t have to.

“He’s right here.” The voice comes from behind you, but you know it instantly. The demon drops you like a child would drop an uninteresting toy, straightening up. He doesn’t have the chance to move before he’s slammed against the wall.

Before you know it, the ropes binding you to the chair are gone and you almost fall out of it, landing on your hands and knees. There’s no strength in your body and Cas seems to know it, because he advances. He presses two fingers gently to your forehead, healing you instantly, and then helps you to your feet.

“Y/N. Are you alright?” He asks. When you nod, he smiles slightly, “Do me a favour? Stand back.”

You do as he says, moving back towards the door. You barely have time to cover your eyes until a blast wave of light and heat slams into you, and you turn away, closing your eyes tightly and covering them for safe measure. You try to block out the demon’s screaming – Cas drags it out, letting the thing suffer.

You can’t bring yourself to care.

You only resurface when Cas taps your shoulder, his hands more than a little shaky.

“Y/N?” He asks as you turn – his eyes are wide, “Are you… alright?”

You offer a small smile, “Better, now that you’re here.”

He doesn’t hesitate to reach out and pull you into him, squeezing you close and kissing the top of your head.

“I’m so sorry,” He whispers, “I’m never leaving your side again.”

  • *2.30am, 221B Baker Street*
  • Baby Holmes: *crying*
  • Sherlock: *pacing the flat, rocking his son; yawning* Alright...alright, you win! You can come with me on my cases.
  • Molly: *making coffee; scoffs* I don't think so.
  • Baby Holmes: *still crying*
  • Sherlock: *desperate* It's been an hour, Hamish *sighs* Fine, I'll buy you a car, you can play with John's gun...I'll even give you the entirety of Mycroft's liquor cabinet if you let Mummy and Daddy sleep.
  • Molly: *chuckles* I'd prefer for you to take him on your adventures *places his coffee on the table*
  • Sherlock: *rests Hamish on his shoulder; smirks* I knew you'd come around.
  • Baby Holmes: *snivelling*
  • Molly: *relieved* Oh, thank God. Don't move...I'll get some blankets *hurries to the bedroom*
  • Sherlock: *rolls his eyes; to the baby* Thanks, son.
  • Baby Holmes: *falling asleep*
  • Molly: *returns wiht the blankets and baby monitor; sets them on the sofa* Be careful. Don't wake him up!
  • Sherlock: *gently lowers to the sofa; sighs* Oh, I'll be fine, don't worry about me. Excessive time spent sleeping on the sofa, not to mention supporting our tiny human-
  • Molly: *kisses his forehead* I'll massage you in the morning. Fair?
  • Sherlock: Mmmm.
  • Molly: *ruffles his hair* Happy Anniversary, handsome.
  • Sherlock: *sleepy* Happy Anniversary.

So, I’m a Cloud/Zack fan until I hit the grave and I will never not find them completely adorable together, but Cloud/Sephiroth was my first ship that I boarded, like, 18 years ago shortly after I finished playing the game when it was new. So, they have a place in my heart forever too. And… here we are.

Cloud is forever stuck between the two (doing chin ups and other fun things) and I don’t care, I love them all.


What is anatomy? Everything looks off.

‘Keep your chin up old grump’

ok, one more. Robotsandramblings requested Pharma - and if you don’t like it I will totally draw him alone, but I feel like shit today and it’s raining all day so I can’t even go for a walk and I had to do something to lift my mood a bit.

Other requests tomorrow, I need to work for a change :<

My World

Prompt: You and Dean tease each other before going to bed for the night, but is that really your reality?

Pairing: Dean x Reader; Jensen x Reader

Warnings: none

Words: 1159

A giggle erupted from your throat as you placed your hands over his cheeks, feeling his stubbled face underneath your fingertips, running your fingers up and down as you expressed how much you loved the stubbled beard version of Dean, a wide smile on your face, only growing wider when he managed to sneak in a kiss.

“Dean Winchester,” you gasped. “I will call the cops on you for stealing kisses from me.” You broke into laughter as he started stealing more kisses, bringing you closer to him as his lips started to wander off your lips and to your cheeks, down your neck and that’s where you drew the line. You placed two fingers under his chin and made him look into your eyes. “Sam is literally sleeping right there.” You gestured to one of the two dirty motel beds where Sam was snoring.

Keep reading

Lutz fluff!:

“Kitten, don‘t move!” Lutz chuckled as he showered your head down with his chin.
You two were battling on Mario kart, and he was a filthy cheater. You thought he was being sweet when he offered. You happily snuggled into his lap and began the friendly game. But five minutes later you learned how he planned to win. He shamelessly grabbed your thighs and kissed your neck to make you lose.
“Lutz!” You yelled as he drove you off the road. He chuckled into your skin as he crossed the finish line. You couldn’t stay mad at him, not while he held you.
“Vhat? Not having fun?” He leaned over and squished you beneath him, he really was an ass. You didn’t bother to push him away this time, knowing he was just looking for a rise.
“Get off!” And he got it, when you squirmed away and he followed. Next thing you knew he was over you, nipping and kissing your skin.