snowed in is supposed to be smut. it’s a forbidden love, brothers best friend kinda vibe, and they’re supposed to fuck. but i never got to the goods, i actually barely started it and i don’t know if ill ever finish it.
sneak peek below the cut
Your room is small, housing a full sized bed and one dresser in the corner. Its saving grace is the large window, giving you a full display of the snow falling and the white peaks just ahead. You sigh dreamily. You might hate the cold and all that comes with it, but you can’t deny its beauty. You walk right up to the window, looking out at the view and smile to yourself.
Charles is right behind you, dropping your luggage by the door before walking right next to you. You feel his presence, his warmth, as he steps behind you. He bends down ever so slightly so that his chin hovers right above your shoulder, lifting his arm to point out something in the mountains. Your breath hitches in your throat, senses overwhelmed by him and how close he is standing to you. His Aqua di Gio radiates off him, filling your nostrils, you can’t help but feel a little light headed.
“We’re going snowboarding over there tomorrow,” Charles says softly, “Est-ce que tu vois?” Do you see?
You don’t actually. All you see is snow, snow, and even more snow. But you nod anyways.
tie me to your bed and force me to take a knotted toy that's too big. listen to me cry as you stretch my hole and slap my cunt as i beg you to stop. when you push the knot in, watch my back arch and my eyes roll back as I rock my hips up to take the knot. as I start to get used being filled, switch it on. let me scream as it comes to life and starts pounding my puppycunt. this is my place, this is where I belong- tied down and being forced to submit to a bigger doggy
Jason is a soft, domestic man, who is so deeply in love with you. He has devoted himself to your happiness and he does his very best to make sure you’re taken care of.
When you’ve had a rough day, he pulls you in close and gently runs his fingers through your hair, leaving soft pecks on the crown of your head. He lets you cry your heart out without making you feel like a burden. He makes you feel safe.
His old t-shirt always feels soft under your tear stained cheeks and you find yourself pulling him closer. He holds on to your waist and you nuzzle your nose into his neck, inhaling his scent.
He smells warm like tobacco and vanilla, it brings you comfort, a sense of relief.
Jason pulls your reddened face away from his soaked shirt and uses the pads of his thumbs to wipe away the remaining tears. He gives you a soft smile and he pecks your lips, once, twice and then he kisses the tip of your nose.
It makes you scrunch your face and Jason swears his heart stops. You look beautiful to him, tears and all.
When the room is silent and you’re no longer crying, Jason lifts you into his big arms and carries you into the kitchen, where he seats you on the island.
He takes your hands into his and places delicate kisses along your knuckles, before making his way to the pantry.
You watch him bring out a small metal container labelled ‘chamomile,’ and a jar of honey. He smiles at you before beginning to make the tea.
While the water boils in the kettle, Jason holds your hands again. He looks deep into your eyes and you can see the love. His eyes were always kind and inviting, but today, they held a sense of comfort and that’s all you needed.
I would pay an ungodly amount of money for a Supernatural finale where Dean rescues Cas from the Empty and tells him he loves him too, Eileen comes back to be with Sam, and Jack chooses to live with the four of them in the bunker as a happy family.
How much do you think it takes to fluster the husband rotation???
it doesn't take much?? not most people's definition of 'much', at least.
for chrollo, overhearing you talk about him (whether it be on the phone or you haven't noticed him standing there yet) gives him pause. it's in instances like these that people reveal their true colors. he's confident in his ability to read you, sure, but hearing your unfiltered thoughts out loud? that's an opportunity he'd kill for. metaphorically and literally. he waits with bated breath, almost embarrassed by his anticipation. you'd think he was a school girl eavesdropping on her crush. and when he hears you not only call him handsome, but emphasize just how much you enjoy your discussions with him? those very discussions that he cherishes dearly? he smiles without realizing it. faced with death, his heart remains steady. faced with anything related to you, it can't slow down.
gojo is, to the surprise of no one, kinda weird. you could huskily whisper the naughtiest line into his ear — he'd just grin and flirt back. he gets so caught up in outdoing you that he forgets to feel embarrassed. want to leave him speechless and knock the air from his lungs? it's surprisingly simple. steal one of his shirts, wear it as your PJs, then doze off waiting for him to return home. he secretly feels bad that his work hours are so erratic. he'll tell you not to stay up for him, but that doesn't mean he isn't touched when you try. the idea of you sitting there, fighting to stay awake because you want to spend time with him? cupid's arrow couldn't compare to the emotions that makes him experience. this, along with the added bonus of his too large shirt engulfing your form does him in. gojo takes enough pictures to necessitate buying additional cloud storage.
for scaramouche..................... just be nice to him without ulterior motives. that's it. no, really. he can't comprehend kindness. he understands transactions, where anything done for the sake of another is still ultimately for one's own benefit. this cynicism has helped him navigate fatui politics yet impedes any personal growth. brew him his favorite bitter tea, organize his belongings, gift him a homemade trinket; he'll flitter through multiple emotions. suspicion, confusion, then, finally, this warm sensation in his supposedly hollow chest that he can't find a word for. this little act haunts him. he can't stop obsessing over it. he wants to find proof that you're like every other wretched, self-serving creature in this world — (or does he?) — but his investigation proves unsuccessful. confronted by this undeniable reality, he's left to wrestle with the implications. you're genuinely thoughtful (ew) and most egregious of all, he likes it (ew x2). this is going to be his undoing, isn't it...?
blade is similarly simple. you needn't jump through hoops of fire to get his obstinate heart pounding. as for what does him in most effectively — your greetings. it's why he shows up unannounced. you'll freeze, giving him a once over, eyebrows cutely scrunching together as your brain puts two and two together. then stars twinkle in your eyes. you glow with the radiance of a thousand suns, running at him, your arms outstretched and legs keen on jumping. he catches you with ease. he's grateful that your face is buried into his chest. otherwise, you'd spot how the tip of his ears go red. what has he ever done to deserve such an enthusiastic welcome? nothing, as far as he's concerned. he doesn't deserve it, doesn't deserve you, yet here you are, excitedly rambling in his arms over his return. he'll say he just happened to be in the star system and decided to stop by. don't believe him. he traveled across the universe for you.