#OH ABSOFUCKINGLUTELY

[dogposts]

Would you boop?

[thatgirlonstage]

sometimes a show throws a scenario at you that you could see coming a hundred miles off but that in no way is gonna prevent you from going absolutely feral over it. Anyway I binged all of Link Click in like three days and I'm going to start chewing furniture about the end of S2

[re-alku]

@emmamushi @thecatamaranlad

So what this paint company does is take iron pollution from abandoned mines that are polluting soils and rivers and makes iron based red pigment paints out of it.

Basically they realized hey no one's cleaning this shit up, it's polluting the streams, killing all the fish, making the water undrinkable and there's a huge market for it so why not make money by cleaning it the fuck up?

They remove this stuff by the industrial bucket load from the rivers. The idea is if it's in a painting, if it's in your home, it's not poisoning wildlife.

anyway its cool as shit, please support tf out of these people https://gamblinstore.com/reclaimed-earth-colors-set/

[sentientsky]

"And that's hard, Scully… suspecting everyone, everything. It wears you down. You even begin to doubt what you know is the truth."

[olessan]

Rings of Power from August 29 through to October 2nd

Final Fantasy XVI on September 17th

Dragon Age Veilguard on October 31st

[snifferz]

no genuinely i fucking quit writing novels bc my english teacher always gave me a grade under everyone else bc the plotline was too complex or it was too much

my writing was decent AT LEAST like i poured my heart out into that shit and it was usually a form of allegory for something that i went through

shoutout to miss ayub /s

[tealeavesandthorns]

// If you ever feel bad about your writing just remember the line

"I've had this knife of sadness in my heart." - made it into the movie Blade Trinity and someone thought it was both cool enough and emotional enough to remain in there....

[guqki]

hello! i was thinking about a clingy reader who is very loving and affectionate with douma (and he can't resist the temptation to fuck her stupid due to how adorable she is to him)

(btww I just discovered your blog now and I'm already loving it 🥹🌺)

I SCREAMED AT THIS. ABSOFUCKINGLUTELY. YES. (btw wrote reader as gn, since this is a gn reader blog xoxo)

best friend! douma who you've been friends with for years now and is secretly in love with you

best friend! douma who can't help but get a boner whenever you touch him in some type of way; his dick stirs in his pants whenever you hug him or kiss him on the cheek cutely

best friend! douma who has to control himself from shoving your face down on his dick whenever you end up falling asleep on his lap

best friend! douma who blushes and chews the insides of his lips whenever you apologize to him for something that’s not even your fault (he finds this the cutest about you)

best friend! douma who has to hold himself back whenever you wear and show him your new pretty outfits (he just wants to rip them off of you)

best friend! douma whose hand immediately flies to his dick whenever you send him a picture of yourself with the cutest messages attached to them

best friend! douma who just wants to slam you against any surface whenever you two are together and absolutely make a mess out of you

.

“d-douma, slow down,” you gasp, clawing at his muscular back to gain his attention. but he’s so lost in the feeling of your walls wrapping and squeezing so deliciously around his length to pay any good attention to you.

“oh, you're so so adorable, y/n,” he sighs dreamily, mostly to himself, holding you tighter as he fastens his pace, his room being filled to the brim with sinful sounds of him slamming against you so nicely.

“god, i just want to eat you up,” he groans, his hot breath so close to your ear that the hairs on your nape stand up. “so fucking cute, and just for me,” he mewls, nibbling lightly on your earlobe before grabbing your face forcefully, slotting his mouth against yours. his tongue licks into your mouth eagerly and oh shit you taste so fucking sweet. “mine, mine, mine,” he moans between kisses, slamming harder inside of you.

“i’m finally inside you, after all this time,” he pants, his rainbow eyes practically spilling with lust. his face is all sweaty and flushed red. “do you know how many fucking times i had to hold myself back from fucking you? you don’t understand the amount of times i wanted to take you on the spot because you're so” he interrupts himself, biting your shoulder as he gives you a rough thrust, causing you to whimper, “adorable.”

you whine against him, eyes beginning to tear up from how good and hard he’s fucking you. “fuck,” you cry, “douma, i’m gonna cum.” you squeeze impossibly tighter around him as you feel yourself getting closer, you're so fucking tight and wet like you’re trying to suck him deeper.

“c’mon, c’mon, cum for me, angel, give it to me,” douma chants, shoving his face into the junction of your neck. he doesn't slow down and he doesn't intend to. he’s gonna be fucking you stupid for hours and it's all your fault for being so goddamn adorable.

[couldnt-think-of-a-funny-name]

I think the funniest option for the 'rescue mission' plot is reginald adopted yet another group of babies and all the other hargreeves are like 'oh we are absofuckinglutely not doing this again' and set out to kidnap them before he can start another superhero team

[darlingdreadwrites]

Halloween (She's So Mean)

THIS IS A SECOND PART OF AN AU. IF THIS IS THE FIRST POST YOU SEE, I SUGGEST YOU CLICK ON THIS (“MAIN STORY”) TO READ THE FIRST PART OF THIS AU!!

pairing: Jeff the Killer x GN!Reader

summary: After arriving at Mr. Mann’s Manor of Frights, you decide to walk around.

contains: haunted house with jeff, scare actor jeff, making out and it’s slightly nsfw (under the red divider!!)

warnings: name calling (slut is used), he’s dressed as a murderous clown with blood on him and a fake knife

word count: 1.3k

masterlist

a.n: don’t be following or shamelessly flirt with scare-actors unless you know them personally and they’re ok with it PLEASE

“I want to just walk around,” you tell your friends. They nodded, walking deeper into the festival grounds.

Every few seconds, screams and laughter surround you – all thanks to the scare-actors scattered about. You feel a buzzing thrill under your skin, a mixture of excitement and nervousness propelling you further. You glance at your left, unaware of a man ready to leap out at you.

“Gotcha!”

You stumble back with a yelp, bumping into one of your friends. The man before you, dressed like a murderous clown, laughs maniacally. His sleek, black leather jumpsuit is zipped down just enough to expose a provocative amount of lean, scarred skin of his torso. Blood is splattered over his pale skin. His makeup enhances his almost-white skin, with dark red eyeshadow sweeping across his eyelids and extending under his eyes. The classic clown look is evident in the sharp diamond shapes that stretch from above his eyebrows to his cheeks. A black upside-down cross is drawn on his forehead, while black face-paint is made to look like his mouth is stretched out. Streaks of dried blood trail from his red lips down to his chin, completing the scary look.

You barely have time to respond before he leans in with a devilish grin – your heart hammers in your chest.  You think he’s about to say something else but he only winks at you. He turns quickly to find his next victim, leaving you bewildered and breathless.

You and your friends continue to explore the festival, but your thoughts are stuck on that encounter. You wander through the festival, trying to shake off the chill that his presence left on you. But it doesn’t matter how many fun booths you pass or how many jokes your friends make, he has carved himself into your brain. You want to believe it was only because he effectively scared you.

You start to lose yourself in the atmosphere, the tension in your shoulders easing. The interaction seems to be behind you and your group has moved on to playing games. You’re standing near a brightly lit game stall, watching as your friend fails to properly throw a ball at a bottle. You laugh as another friend steps up to help – only to fail just as terribly.

“Miss me?” Someone whispers, their breath hot on your ear.

You spin toward him, coming face to face with the scare-actor from earlier. He’s so close that you can smell the leather of his suit and a faint scent of nicotine. He laughs sharply, causing you to shrink back against a wall behind you. When he pulls back his arm way too swiftly, you almost scream.

“You’re so hot!” You blurt out without thinking, closing your eyes tightly. Oh, fuck. You’re supposed to be scared. His job is to scare you, and here you were, declaring how hot you think he is.

Your eyes go wide in horror, and you seem to have genuinely caught him off guard for a moment. His taunting grin falters, and his eyes are just as wide as yours. Your face feels like hot coal when he bursts out into loud laughter. He doubles over, one of his hands pressed against his stomach. Your friends join in on his laughter, and you would have kicked him if your embarrassment hadn’t caused you to freeze.

“Oh, god, you –“ he gasps for air between laughs. “What kinda reaction – Jesus!”

“That wasn’t – I didn’t mean to – “You stammer out. You’re absofuckinglutely mortified.

“Nah, nah, you can’t take that back,” he teases as he calms down. Before you can answer, he grabs your wrist and it’s surprisingly gentle. “Since you think I’m so hot, I’m takin’ you with me. That okay?”

“Okay – “

You barely have time to look back at your friends who are now cheering for you. You’d get them back for this for sure. He’s dragging you through the maze of people, and you have to fight to keep up. He’s leading you toward the mansion, undoubtedly heading to one of the haunted experiences. Curious festivalgoers in lines watch as he skips to the entrance of one.

“C’mon, gorgeous,” he drawls, nodding at the worker who steps to the side to let you two in. he looks over his shoulder to flash you a smirk, but he’s also studying your reaction. “Unless you’re too scared.”

You’re too stunned and excited to resist, following silently behind him. A part of you really seems to like how he’s treating you. It was a strange mix of actions – like he was controlling you, but also giving you a chance to refuse. Not that you would refuse.

The inside of the attraction is dark and disorienting. The lights flicker above and cast eerie shows in the already creepy hallway. Every time an animatronic or an actor jumped out, you’d walk a little closer to Jeff. At one point, he got so tired of you practically squishing yourself against his arm that he just wrapped an arm around your shoulders. He pressed the palm of his hand against the side of your head, pulling you closer to him.

“What’s the matter?” He whispers, his lips lightly grazing your ear, and the warmth of his breath causes your brain to short-circuit. “Scared?”

Jeff is relentless, making jokes and flirting to break the tension. You attempt to match his energy, even if it is a bit shaky. A flurry of butterflies weighs heavily on your chest. He leads you down somewhere clearly off of the main path. He pulls back a curtain, revealing a door with a sign that reads “Employees Only.” He opens it with no issue before turning around. He stands in front of the dark corridor, the shadows framing his silhouette. He holds your wrist loosely, giving you another hint that you can stop this at any time.

“Wanna have some fun?” he asks, tilting his head. His tone then takes on a mocking lilt. “Promise I won’t bite… too hard.”

You hesitate for just a millisecond before stepping closer. That’s all the encouragement he needs, his grip on your wrist tightening. Who were you to say no?

“That’s my stupid little slut,” he purrs, walking backwards into the darkly lit hallway and pulling you with him. He looks at you and back to the door – another exit, he seems to be telling you. But you don’t move.

He closes it and the sounds behind it immediately sound muffled and distant. He stares down at you with a charged mischief that almost has your knees buckling. He holds up his prop knife, the flat side of the plastic blade lightly tapping against your cheek. He leans in, his breath hitting your face.

“Last chance to run, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice low. He’s surprisingly considerate as his eyes search yours for any hint of uncertainty.

You’re too caught up in the moment to respond as your hands tangle into Jeff’s hair to pull him into an open-mouthed kiss. He doesn’t waste a second, immediately closing the distance. You can taste the copper that lingers in his mouth – fake blood, probably – but it only adds to the intoxicating thrill of the moment.

Your back hits the cold wall, the sharp pain tingling just enough to make you crave his closeness even more. He nips at your lower lip and grips your waist tightly. As his tongue delves into your mouth, one of his knees slips between your legs. He rolls his knee lightly against your clothed groin, the fabric of your jeans stimulating you just right. You moan into his mouth, and he drinks it up greedily, his slippery muscle sliding against yours.

Your hand presses flat against his stomach, the warmth mixing with the heat of your palm. Neither of you seemed to remember – or care – about the blood on his torso. It was dried by now, so, as you trailed your hand up his chest, the substance flaked off onto your hand.

You don’t know how long you had been gone, but all you knew was that you had lots of fun. You just didn’t think what you had done was obvious. That was until your friends squealed when you came back, pointing at and teasing you about the makeup staining the area around your mouth.

[trashyandtiredsol]

I FRICKIN LOVE YOU HUN AND @c00kietin !!! AND ALL MY MOOTS SO FRICKIN MUCH YOU ALL ARE ONE OF THE BEST PARTS OF MY DAY AND I'M ALWAYS SO THRILLED COMING ON HERE!! I'M SO GLAD I DECIDED TO DOWNLOAD TUMBLR AND INTERACT WITH Y'ALL

Mutuals Loving Hours

Okay this might be a sappy so...beware as I gush about my mutuals!!

I have so many things I want to say to everyone, so much I would love to tell you face to face. So many reassurances and encouraging words that I would have to write a list just to remember everything I want-- what I need to tell you. I would give anything to be able to make you laugh and enjoy your smile, admiring the way you light up. I'd make an ass out of myself just to watch your smile widen. If I could, I would grab those weights from your shoulders and throw them into the great lakes, never to be seen again. I would stand by your side as we watch them drown from their own weight, never to get that satisfaction of dragging you down with them.

You're a damn good person, whether you believe it or not. Your creations, the things your pour your heart and soul into are some of the most beautiful things I have ever seen. I can feel the love and joy you used to intertwine those ideas together, I can see the excitement on your face as you share your creations.

You are one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen. I don't care if I haven't seen your actual face, or if I don't even know your real name. You are stunning. Stunning like a star that threats to burn your eyes the longer you look at it. But I'd be okay with loosing my sight, as long as you're the last thing I see. I know I'm just a stranger to a lot of you, but I still care! I will always care and you will never be a burden. Sometimes I might not be able to help you like you need, but I'll be damned if I don't try.

I love you, you made my void a little less empty.

<3

[billthedrake]

This started out as a fan fiction story, but the name has been changed.

CAP

"Hey Miller," Scott Morrison greeted as the third member of their informal work posse sat down to join them at the fast casual restaurant in midtown Atlanta. "You dropped a dime to HR yet?"

Jason Miller flashed his pearly white teeth in a killer smile that got him a lot of tail in his college years. Of the three jocks-turned-businessmen, he was the youngest at 23 and he still had that collegiate affect, a slightly boylegged gait that balanced out his soccer-jock poise. "Dude, I think it's just a fucking rumor."

Pete Andrews was the oldest of the three. At 28, he was the only one of them who didn't start out at the real-estate development company right out of college. "Cmon, bro, look around the office and tell me Cap doesn't have have a type."

"Cap?" Scott laughed.

"What? That's his nickname," Pete said defensively.

Scott shrugged. "Yeah, but I just call him Mark."

Jason blushed as he admitted. "Guys, it's always Mr. Crawford for me."

Scott nudged Jason's knee with his under the table. "Someone's trying to be office favorite," he teased. Of the three, Scott had the meatiest body, an ex-tight end build that made his goofy affect seem more kid-like somehow.

Pete shook his head. "That's Campbell. Still." Wyatt Campbell had been assigned on a special project with the ex-MLB star. It was an open secret what that involved.

"Mark will grow tired of him," Scott said with a strange sureness.

Jason still never knew when his work buds were joking and what was real. "So guys... maybe this is a fucked up thing to ask.... but would you for real? You know if he...." The soccer stud felt dumb for even asking.

But Pete didn't miss a beat. "Would I let myself get Cap-ed? Absofuckinglutely."

"Jesus, bro," Scott hissed. But he was more surprised at how laidback Pete got all slutty on them.

"You wouldn't?" Pete challenged. "I mean.. c'mon."

"Yeah, probably," Scott hissed. "But fuck..."

"I think it'd be hot," Jason chimed. He bit his lip and decided to admit how crushed out he was on Crawford. "You know I was a huge Yankees fan as a kid... I even have a signed ball from him."

Scott smirked. "Well you never know... like you say, bro, could be just a rumor."

****

It was happy hour in the Midtown bar and Jason and Pete found themselves standing alone.

"Think Morrison's upset with us, man?" the younger guy asked.

Pete shrugged. He'd been a little crushed out on Jason Miller, in a kind of big-bro, little-bro way lately. If Scott was being a dick to Jason, Pete was gonna have words with him. "I don't know, man. He probably just got weirded out by all the talk about the boss, you know?"

Jason seemed to take that in. "I wish I could say it was joking around," he admitted. He looked into Pete's blue eyes. The ex-baseball player was blond and hunky, aging into his more adult looks real well.

"You don't have to pretend with me, buddy," Pete said, placing his arm around Jason's shorter frame. It was forward as hell, even as he tried to pass it off as a friendly gesture.

Jason kind of leaned into the embrace, then his body tensed. "Oh shit, he's walking over."

Pete slipped his arm off and stepped back into a normal distance from Jason. He expected a wisecrack from Morrison, but instead the guy had a Cheshire grin on his face.

"Hey guys," Scott said. "Next round's on me," he boasted.

"Someone's in a good mood," Pete wisecracked.

Scott nodded, his puppy dog brown eyes looking playful and excited. "Fuck yeah I am.... what did you call it, bro? I just got fucking Cap-ed."

"What?" Jason asked. He looked across the bar and there was Mark Crawford, talking casually to another partner, standing with upright posture in his suit and dress shirt but no tie.

Scott's eyes darted over to where Jason was looking before looking back at his buddy. "You heard me," he said.

"Just now," Pete half-said, half-asked, incredulous. "You got Cap-ed."

"Yep," Scott replied, enjoying the reactions of these guys. "Just now. In the stall of the men's room."

Jason was getting excited now. "Jesus, Scott... how was he?"

Scott grinned. "Pretty fucking huge.... fat." He took a sip of his beer then lowered his voice some. "But he opened me up a lot last night."

"You dog," Pete said, giving Scott a soft punch to the shoulder. "That's why you've been working late."

"Yeah, man, that's why I've been working late."

Jason was eating this up. "So, bro... you like, his favorite now?"

Scott laughed. "Don't think so.... Mark's a total fucking player," he said. "I mean, last night, guys, he invited me over, you know to talk about the project stuff and just to get to know me. Of course he put the moves on me and within twenty minutes I was getting my cherry busted."

"Fuck, that's hot," Jason hissed, thinking of his own virgin jock hole. He blushed as Pete smirked at the response and winked.

"I know, right?" Scott said, still riding the excitement of his full Cap experience. "But like right after we're lying in his bed and he picks up his phone to invite another dude over."

"Shit, for real?" Jason said. "That sucks."

Scott shook his head. "Was hot actually. Dude's a total stud. I hope I have that kind of stamina when I'm 44."

Pete didn't have the puppy love crush on Crawford that Jason did, but he was getting turned on hearing Scott talk. Imagining the 6'5" ex-tight end taking Cap's cock. And coming back for more. "So bro..." he asked Scott. "How big we talking about?"

Scott grinned. "Hall of Fame cock for sure, man. I dunno, 10, maybe 11? And this wide..." The 25-year-old hunk held up his hands forming a circle with his fingers to show the girth. "Real fucking fat dong." He seemed to reflect back on his experience. "I didn't think I'd enjoy it, actually."

"But you did...?" Jason piped in, a hopeful tone evident in his voice.

Scott grinned. "I came like a motherfucker on that huge dick." He was outright boasting now, and he had an almost wistful look as he glanced back at Crawford.

"Damn, bro," Pete said. "And you were making fun of me for wanting it."

Scott turned back. "Sorry, bro... I didn't even think I'd go there, but Mark has some smooth moves."

Jason was chubbed up in his work khakis. "He wouldn't even have to use them on me. For real, guys."

Pete laughed. He clapped his arm on Jason's shoulder. "All right, drinks on me. I'm in the mood to fucking celebrate."

He went off and got the next round while Jason and Pete talked.

"You think he's bullshitting us?" Jason asked. He was new to the company and still didn't have a good read on Scott Morrison.

"I don't think he is, buddy," Pete said. He tried to read the soccer jock's face. Jason had sandy-brown hair, ruddy cheeks, and a total boy-next-door vibe. "What about you? You really are crushed on Cap, aren't ya?"

Jason nodded, a little ashamed. "Fraid so... you think less of me, Pete?"

Pete shook his head and held up his fingers, close apart. "Bro, I was THIS close to making the move on you myself," he admitted before he lost his courage.

That made Jason's hazel eyes light up. "Yeah bro?" He was clearly taken by surprise.

Just then Mark Crawford walked up, almost strutting though in his "boss" mode. "Andrews... Miller... how are you gentlemen?"

"Doing good, Mr. Crawford," Jason said, dumbly, blushing as he could tell Pete was smirking.

Mark smiled, his bright smile matching Jason's. "Good to hear." With a casual ease, he reached over and massaged Jason's trap muscle through the slim cut polo shirt. He even let his fingers graze the nape of the ex-jock's neck. He made small talk with the two employees but didn't let go over his touch. Jason was nervous and excited at the same time. Mark fucking Crawford seemed to be making the moves on him.

Finally the baseball star pulled his hand back and slid into his suit trouser pocket, making his crotch lump move visible. "Why don't you see me in my office tomorrow, Miller? 9 AM. I have a project I'd like you to start work on."

"Yes, sir, Mr. Crawford."

Mark laughed at his eagerness. "All right, good." He finally peeled his eyes off Jason and acknowledged Pete. "I'm heading out... but have a good evening fellas."

"Yes, Cap," Pete said. "Have a good one."

Both young men watched slack jawed at Mark's fine jock daddy form strutting out of the bar.

"What did I miss?" Scott asked when he came back with three drinks. He'd seen the interaction from afar.

"Miller here is gonna get Cap-ed," Pete deadpanned. "That's what you missed."

***

Turns out Crawford did do favorites. Pete and Scott barely saw Jason Miller the whole next month. The newbie hire spent lunches in Mark's office and evenings in Mark's bachelor condo. It wasn't like their buddy had given them the brush off exactly. But Jason was definitely coy, more coy than Scott had been. The two young ex-jocks had no idea if Jason Miller was shacking up with the pro star and big boss. But he was definitely taking Cap cock on a regular basis.

"Think he's having fun?" Scott asked when it was just him and Pete at lunch.

Pete seemed wistful. "Probably. Yeah," he said. "I wish I'd made my move when I had the chance."

"On Cap?"

"On Miller. God help me, I'm in love with that guy."

That caught Scott off guard. "I didn't know you were wired that way, Pete." The ex-baseball player was the last guy Scott would peg as full-on homo.

"Well I am," Pete said defiantly.

Scott felt bad. "Hell, I'm pretty sure Cap will get sick of him. Like I say, he's too much of a player."

"I guess," Pete replied. "Thing is I don't want Miller's heart broken either. Dude worships the ground Mark walks on."

"I can see that," Scott said. He seemed more thoughtful these days. His fling with Cap has opened his eyes for sure. "You ever have something serious with a dude, Pete?"

Andrews nodded. "Once. A younger player on my college team. I took him under my wing. I guess I like that vibe."

"Maybe that's why Cap hasn't made a move on you, bro," Scott said.

"Whaddya mean?"

Scott shrugged. "I dunno.. you've been here, what, three years? And you're practically the only male employee Cap hasn't nailed."

"Maybe he only likes the younger guys," Pete said. Then realized that wasn't true. Wyatt Campbell just turned 32.

Scott shook his head. "Cap likes being in charge... maybe he reads you in that category too."

Pete Andrews seemed to mull that over. Then he asked the question that had been lingering in his mind for a while. "Tell me the truth, Scott. Did it hurt?"

That brought out a big grin on the goofy guy's masculine face. "At first, yeah," he said. "Thing was, I trusted him. And that made it work."

***

It was fifteen minutes till quitting time, and Pete was engrossed in a spreadsheet when Jason walked up to his cubicle. "Hey bro," he said, snapping Pete's attention from the work focus.

Pete's blue eyes lit up. For all the second guess he'd had for two months, he was still majorly crushed out on Jason Miller. "Hey man. What's up?"

"I'm heading over to Cap's after work... was gonna see if you wanted to join me."

Pete's heart pounded. He wasn't the stereotypical dumb jock and he put two and two together. "Is that you inviting me or Mark?"

Jason grinned and leaned in. "Cap likes fresh meat... I've already introduced him to my former fraternity brothers. He's been wanting a go at you, Andrews."

This is not how Pete imagined it going down. "I figured Cap had the moves to approach me directly."

Jason anticipated this. He continued in a whisper "He thinks you'll pull some top bullshit. I told him you're not like that, bro."

"So.. I go with you... and I get Cap-ed for the first time."

"Yep. Probably not the last time either."

Pete pushed his chair and leaned back some. He was getting chubbed. "Tell me Miller, was Scott lying about the size?"

"Nope," Jason said. "Not a bit." He gave his buddy that killer smile. "That affect your decision?"

Pete shook his head and gulped. "Give me fifteen minutes OK?"

Jason grinned. "You got it, bro." He paused and patted Pete's meaty shoulder through his button-down shirt. "Listen, Andrews... sorry I haven't been there for ya."

The two young men communicated so much through their eyes. Jason knew how Pete felt, and Pete knew he didn't have to hide or explain it.

"It's OK, Miller. I get it.... thanks for inviting me today."

Jason gave one last squeeze of Pete's shoulder. "Of course... It'll be fun. You'll see."

"Yeah," Pete replied. "I just figured I'd be the one to take you under my wing, is all. Not the other way around."

Jason gave a soft laugh. He stepped back and was about to leave the cubicle when he stopped.

"Um... if anything, bro, Scott sold Cap short. Just warning ya."

Pete took in that knowledge. His imagination was starting to get away from him. "Cool."

"In fifteen?" Jason asked. Confirming.

"In fifteen," Pete replied.

[jessmm7]

Oh absofuckingLUTELY his tongue is defo talented he wouldn’t waggle it about if not.

Imagine long slow French kissing

Or if we wanna be dirty imagine his nose poking in you while he’s eating you out 🫣🤤😩

Loves to show it off and definitely knows what he's doing with it 🤭

[rodolfoparras]

Hear me out

https://www.tumblr.com/kobyfalksxxx/717340215096868864?source=share

Old!Price trying to take nudes for the first time

Oh Absofuckinglutely 🧎🏻‍♂️ price redoing the pics til he’s practically sweating and his limbs are aching from all the posing finally settling on one pic before sending you it, nibbling on his bottom lip and fidgeting with his phone waiting for your notification and when they do arrive it’s a whole string compliments, encouraging words, some texts so lewd it has his whole face burning and his replies are so sweet and reserved short “yeah?” To your paragraphs but you don’t mind you’ll happily shower him in praises while he listens to each and every word you say and eventually sweet thing gets so excited because you’re being “way too kind” to him, so much so his hand sneaks between his legs, slowly stroking his half hard cock while looking at the pic he sent you, remembering how pretty you found his soft stomach and thighs, thumb stroking his tip as he looks at the sun spots and scars you so eagerly “want to kiss” and “map out” sweet thing losing himself in pleasure he forgots to reply back and you’re asking him if everything’s alright and he’s sends a clunky “‘m doing it” back hearing those words coming from anyone else would have a laugh tumbling from your mouth but coming from him it’s so sweet and endearing

[kickingitwithkirk]

Paschal Moon

Summary: Jensen finds crossing the tracks isn’t always a bad thing

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Astronomer!Reader

WC: 2358

Warnings: some angst, really bad punning(sorry) divorce, cheating, innuendos, cursing, reader says shit like I do IRL 😅

A/N: 10/24-I’ve fixed the grammatical errors and expanded this part, cause you know me, I can be chatty and I've written a sequel!

Square Filled: @winchesterandbeyondbingo -midnight @spnmixedbingo -secret dating @spnaubingo -wet dream @j3bingo -camping @howbadcanitbebingo -cliche galore

*Moldavite

*divider by @firefly-graphics

*no Beta-all mistakes are mine

*photos found online

It was Thursday night, and once again, Jensen found himself the proverbial third wheel. The Padalecki’s meant well, dragging him everywhere with them since he filed for divorce, wanting to keep him from brooding with a bottle when not with his kids.

And it wasn’t that Jensen didn’t mind socializing. It was knowing the evening would be filled with repetitive I’m sorry, and the look of sympathy that sent him straight to the open bar first for many a shot nowadays. 

Feeling the slight buzz he needed kicking in, Jensen put on his game face and, with another tumbler of liquid courage in hand, made the rounds, chatting amicably with various groups and catching up with old friends.

Things were going pretty well until some dumb fuck turned to Genevieve, loudly blurting they’d heard Danneel making the rounds with guys with more sizable assets was the reason for the divorce pissed off her moose-sized husband, who bellows shut your unprepossessing cake hole causes a momentary distraction allowing Jensen to escape out a nearby door before punching the sonuvabitch with the double entendre himself. 

Slamming it shut, he stomped to the riverside view, wrapping both hands around the horizontal guardrail and squeezing like he was wringing a chicken's neck when the simultaneous swish of fabric and a hand holding half a glass of liquid appeared.

“Looks like you could use this more than me.” 

Jensen’s eyes met those of the tall drink of water he’d noticed throughout the evening. Looking at the glass again made her laugh, “I’m not slipping you a Mickey.” Lifting it to her lips, he watched her throat ungulate as she drank and felt Jen Jr. rising to attention. “See, Peaches, I’m not some crazy stalker.” 

Jensen takes the glass and feels a spark when their fingers brush. “Thanks, I wasn’t thinking..that.” Throwing back the rest, he appreciates the liquor's smooth slide down his throat. “It’s been a pretty shitty evening.”

“Preaching to the choir, Peaches! I came ‘cause my second cousin on my mama’s side girl broke up with him, and now I know why.” She bends over and retrieves a bottle, giving Jensen a fantastic view of her breasts artfully showcased in her cocktail dress, and pops up, pointing the bottle at him.

 “That motherfucker thought he could pimp me out for a promotion! What the hell is it with people having a ring on it?” She grabs his left wrist, tilting it so the outdoor lights glint off the wedding band he hasn’t removed yet, “Acting like this means absofuckinglutely nothing?”

“Now you’re preaching to the choir. My soon-to-be ex was doing that while I was working in Vancouver and telling everyone it’s because I’m lacking.” Jensen couldn’t stop self-dissing since catching Danneel and one of his closest friends together.

“Hoooly shit!  You’re the guy whose wife runs around saying you couldn’t find her clit with a map, GPS, or fucking bullseye paint on it!” Jensen’s eyes widened at her audacity. “Hell, most gals just use a vibrator if they wanna get off that bad. And did you just admit your package is..?” She wiggles her pinky finger while refilling the glass, “Don’t get me wrong, no shame if you know how to use it.” 

She finally noticed his expression slapped a hand over her mouth and mumbled, “Oh fuck, I’m so sorry! My mouth doesn’t know how to stop once I get started. Blame it on my upbringing.” Jensen took a drink to cover his humiliation, and a stiffener for no telling what she’d say next asked, “Upbringing?”

Removing her hand reveals a guileless smile: “You know what they say, you can take the girl outta the trailer park.” Bewilderment crossed his face to her self-deprecating response. “Yeah, I’m that relative they always warned you about.”

“Little late with the warning, sweetheart.”

She burst out laughing, and Jensen found himself doing the same.

Later

Jensen couldn’t believe it. 

In his profession, showing unscripted emotions was a sign of weakness many would exploit. Yet, here he was, a forty-three-year-old man usually in control, sitting outback of this building with a woman he’d never met before, who’d upended that control.

She was the distraction he needed before knowing it; he did something he’d never do under normal circumstances, told her everything, and got a response of, “That sucks balls, and not in a good way!”

“Kicker is; she wants alimony.”

“What a gall darn minute. You caught your almost ex doing the beast with two backs, right?” Jensen hums in response. “Peaches, I’m no lawyer, but I’d say that ain’t fucking happening,” She tips the second five-finger discounted bottle over the glass he’d again drained. “And no offense, your ex makes those whores back in Ratchet City look almost pious. Most have the decency not to fuck in your bed.”

Jensen rubbed his face, “I can’t believe I’ve told a stranger about my marital problems.”

“Sometimes it’s easier to unburden yourself to someone you don’t know.”

“I haven’t even told my family or Jared!”

“And Jared is?”

“The guy who has my back no matter what.” She ponders his response for a moment. “That’s probably why. You’re afraid that if he knows what happened, it’ll diminish how he sees you.” Jensen appeared confused. “Guys POV... if I caught my wife fucking around and saying it’s cause I couldn’t keep her satisfied in the sack, I’d not wanna discuss it either. But I know it’s,” wiggles pinky again, “Horseshit.”

“How?”

“You dress left, and I’ve never had an iPhone stand up to say hello.” Jensen struggled to formulate a coherent response. “Ahh, come on, Peaches, you know you’ve given many people wet dreams about the Ackelconda.”

“Why do you keep calling me that?”

“Cause you’ve got the juiciest peach of an ass, and I wouldn’t kick you outta bed for eating crackers,” she says, winking at him, but before he responds, they hear a booming, “Jensen!” Jared appears out the side door, walking towards them. “Fuck, man, I’ve been looking all over for you!  We need to get going; it’s almost midnight.”

“Well, pooh, and here I thought I was going to get lucky,” she says as they stand up; a ringing church bell echoes across the river twelve times. “Guess it’s time to leave the ball and head back to the pumpkin patch.” 

Walked past Jared, she nodded and was almost to the open door when Jensen yelled, “Wait!” She paused as he ran over, “You can’t leave this way. I don’t even know your name.” She held out a hand, “Give me your phone.” He unlocked it and noticed her smirk while she was typing. “Give me a ring if you ever cross the tracks, Peaches." 

Both men appreciated her retreating form when Jared asked, “Who was that?” Jensen doesn’t answer until she disappears in the crowded room, then glances at the screen and gets his you’ve got to be kidding face.

“Cinderella.”

****

Weeks later

One afternoon, they were hanging out watching football, and Jared, tired of nagging Jensen about getting back on the horse and calling her, pulled out the big guns, telling him if he was going to act like a girl, maybe he should put on a skirt and call himself Jane.

That irked an inebriated Jensen, who fumbled his phone out of his pocket, pulled up her contact info…and chickened out again, tossing it on the couch. Jared saw her number on the screen and tapped call, knowing he risked getting kneed in the nads. Two rings later, her voice came through the speaker. 

“Peaches, you’re slower than molasses crawling uphill in January giving a girl a holler.” Hearing her voice mellowed Jensen, and they agreed to meet on Friday at a hole-in-the-wall for lunch where he wouldn’t be recognized.

That lunch became dinner. Dinner became bar hopping, and after indulging in one too many, they sneaked into Blue Hole Regional Park, went skinny dipping, and did things that would scare fish. Afterward, she takes him to a Waffle House, somewhere he hadn’t been in years, for a bowl of 4 AM chili.

****

Monday morning, coffeeholic Jensen grumpily fumbles around the shoebox-sized kitchen in her hundred-year-old farmhouse, searching for a mug while waiting on an aged percolator to finish.

Bending over to look in the dishwasher, he discovers one with a rainbow-maned unicorn flipping the bird, saying, I Run On Caffeine Sarcasm & Cuss Words.  Straightening up, Jensen bangs his head on an overhanging cabinet and finds the last two words apropos. Finally brewed, Jensen steps out onto the shady front porch, sipping on the dark roast, and sits in one of the old rockers, contemplating if he’s having a midlife crisis.

They were barely acquainted twenty-four hours before they got together, in the biblical sense. He heard Dean's gravelly voice telling him to stop being a dumbass, that he deserved this after the shellacking Danneel delivered the last few months.

What astounds Jensen is that when his heart broke harder than he knew it could, she was the solace he craved, and he began to believe it would mend with her.

Jensen was nervous because tonight was extra special.

A few months back, she bounded into his home excited about an upcoming celestial event and field trip her astronomy class was taking. She really, really wanted him to go, even though they agreed to keep their relationship secret until he’d finalized his divorce. It struck Jensen that it would be the perfect night to do something he’d wanted to do since their first date, so he said yes while mentally making other arrangements for the night.

****

“Peaches, this isn’t the way.”

“We’re not going there sweetheart.”

“I realize that Captain Obvious! What I want to know, wtf?!  Are you trying to get me fired? I have a class...."

“That Dr. Carnegie is graciously covering.”

“Why is..what did you do Jensen?”

“I went to the head of your department,” she groaned, “And inquired if someone else could supervise because I’d planned a special night with my girl.”

“What happened to us keeping on the DL? Carnegie is the biggest blabbermouth! Everyone on the planet’s gonna know about us by morning!”

“My divorce was finalized this morning.”

“WHAT!” she indignantly squawked. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me?!” Jensen bemusedly listened to her ongoing rant, eventually picking up her hand and kissing its back, entwining their fingers as he drove on for another hour to Inks Lake State Park. “Since when do you camp out?” She asks when he pays for an overnight camping permit. “Cause the one time I asked, you gave me stink face at the mention of a tent.”

“Since the day you bounded into my home all excited and asked me to come with you. I wanted to make tonight special.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Thank you. I sincerely appreciate you compromising your creature comforts for me.” Jensen scratched the back of his head, “Well, it’s not technically camping out. I got an air mattress that fits in the truck bed.”

“I know it’s a yearly thing, so what makes this one so special?” Jensen asked as he gazed up at the moon awash with a vivid pink hue. The question made her lift her head from the telescope’s eyepiece, and an amused expression crossed her features.

“Are you trying to seduce me, Mrs. Robinson? Or do you want me to paint you like one of those French girls?” Jensen peers down at his unintentional position: one hand tucked behind his head, bowed legs splayed, one knee slightly bent, his other hand lying near the sliver of skin peeking out between his dark henley and well-worn jeans.

 “What makes this one so special?” She walks towards the truck, setting foot on the back bumper, gripping the tailgate, and hopping over it onto the mattress. “It is the moon's proximity to the earth.” She crawls forward, placing her hands on either side of his shoulders and slung a leg over Jensen’s hips, slowly sitting down. “Plus, being ultra-close, the color is so vivid that whatthehellisinyourpants!!”

Jensen quickly sits up, about to grab her waist so she doesn’t hit the sidewall, but she scoots down his legs. “That’d better be a sex toy in your pants and not Peyronie’s disease.” Jensen gave her a bewildered look. “What can I say? I like your cock as is. Curves just right for my pleasure.”

“Your mouth is gonna be the death of me..” “..but what a way to go?”

Jensen flopped on his back, groaning, “This isn’t how I imagined tonight going.” She smiled and crawled back over him, “So let’s pretend we’re on set. I’ve flubbed the scene and do another take.”

“That’s why I love you,” reaching up, Jensen tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “The fact that everything that pops into my head comes flying out of my mouth?” Jensen chuckles at her question. “Yeah, I like you, just as you are.” He reaches into the pocket she sat on, pulls out a box, and opens it, revealing the ring he’d chosen. “And would be the luckiest man alive if you’d marry me.”

Taking her left hand, he slides it on her finger, feeling apprehensive at her silence. It is almost deafening, having never known her without any response. “Getting nervous here, sweetheart,” Jensen says as he sits up. "Look, I know we’ve only been together for a short time. I don’t want you to feel pressured in any way to answer right now.”

“What’s the stone?”

“Umm... it’s a Moldavite.” She gets that expression he still isn’t sure what to make of it. “I know it’s not conventional, and if you want to pick something else,” Jensen breaks off, watching her eyes fill with tears.

“You gave me this not ‘cause you’re being cheap. The stone, you knew what the significance of its origin would mean to me.” She cupped his cheek, “You’ve never put on airs with me, never been anything other than yourself. A genuine, caring, funny-as-hell doofus with a beautiful soul and I’m saying yes!”

Paschal Moon 2.0-coming 10/24

SPNTAGS:  @donnaintx  @lyarr24  @flamencodiva @lassie-bird  @nancymcl  @spnbaby-67 @leigh70 @b3autyfuld1sast3r

Sam/Jared: @idreamofplaid

Dean/Jensen: @thoughts-and-funnies  @stoneyggirl2  @beabutterfly987   @smoothdogsgirl @deans-spinster-witch