#but sue me if i want to relate a banging song to myself

[indis-vines]

Being aroace kind of sucks sometimes...

Like I want to have someone that I can be close to in that way, who cares about me romantically that I can reciprocate

But yknow I don't get to have that :[[

Like I'm happy with my friends and family I love them all dearly but sometimes I'd like someone who I can have that level of relationship with without it being just friends know ://

[there-must-be-a-lock]

Leave Your Boots By The Bed (SPN x BtVS)

Sam Winchester x Faith Lehane

Word Count: 7350

Warnings: It’s smutty! Samhandling, the jockey is MJ’s favorite sex position, lots of discussions of trust and consent, unprotected sex, rimming, spanking, hair pulling, and dom/sub themes. Wee bit o’ feelings but in a nice way with a happy ending. Mostly just a whole bunch of marathon, athletic, probably-not-OSHA-compliant banging. 

A/N: This is the Sam/Faith side-quest (idk what else to call it) to Big Damn Heroes, but you don’t really need to read that to understand this. You can also read just the scene where these two meet over here. 

This is my entry for @idabbleincrazy and her “What Do You Mean This Is Classic Rock?” Challenge! My prompt was “Girl All The Bad Guys Want,” by Bowling For Soup, which 100% gave me Faith vibes. It’s quoted/referenced a couple times in the story. 

It’s also my (second) entry for @stusbunker’s Jam Basket fic exchange. This one’s for @thoughtslikeaminefield​, who deserves the world on a silver platter. I cannot give her that, so instead I offer Faith smut. Thanks to @mskathywriteswords​ for prodding and lotion-related reality checks, and to @fangirlxwritesx67​ for the read-throughs and for reassuring me that if I ever write Sam smut without a little psychoanalysis thrown in, she will worry about me. 

Title from the Jason Isbell song “Cover Me Up,” which I listened to on repeat while writing certain chunks of this. 

“What’s so funny?” Faith asks, looking at him sideways as they walk. 

“I just told you I come from another universe and your response is ‘cool.’” 

“Am I supposed to be impressed? I like it this way. No chance of you gettin’ all clingy.” 

Sam laughs. “Fair enough.” 

“Monsters, huh? You ever staked a vamp before?” 

“Stakes don’t kill ‘em in my world. But… beheaded a few,” Sam says mildly. 

“Yeah?” Her eyes sparkle. “So if we take the shortcut through the graveyard, you’re not gonna slow me down or get yourself killed?” 

He gives her an unimpressed look. “What do you think?” 

“Let’s go, then,” she challenges, pointing to the cemetery gate up ahead. “Bet I can dust more before we get to the other side.” 

“You’re on.” 

* * * * * * * * * *  

“Heads up,” Faith shouts, and tosses him a stake. Sam whirls and punches it through the thing’s ribcage, sending dust swirling just in time to turn and watch Faith launch herself at another vamp. 

“Is this where you take all your dates?” Sam wonders out loud, a little bit enthralled by the cocky grin on her face as she sends the vamp stumbling with one of those showy spin-kicks. 

“This is not a date,” she snaps, between solid punches. The last hit decks the vamp, and she stakes him before he can hit the ground. She struts toward Sam, brushing dust from her skintight jeans with a Cheshire cat smile. “I like my job. Fuckin’ sue me.” 

“Not complaining,” Sam says, sincerely. “Hottest thing I’ve seen in ages.” 

She looks up at him suspiciously, like she thinks he’s making fun of her, and Sam lets her see the heat in his eyes. The grin is back, and she’s grabbing him by the lapels and rocking onto her tiptoes, swaying into him with a little sigh and a lot of confidence. Sam slides both hands into her hair and ducks down to kiss her, sucking on her lower lip and tasting waxy red. 

Breathtakingly competent and moderately bitchy has always sorta been his type. 

“We had a bet,” he points out, before crushing his mouth to hers again. She makes a sound like a purr and wrenches herself away, grabbing him by the wrist and making a beeline for the path. 

“I’m gonna say we both won here,” she says decisively. “Let’s go.” 

* * * * * * * * * *  

She grabs him the second the lock slides into place, backing him against the door, already tugging at his belt. He yanks her jacket off her shoulders and she lets it fall, and then he grabs her by the belt loops, reeling her in until she’s pressed against him, hips flush to his as he slouches against the door. He bends to mouth at the long smooth line of her throat. 

“Talk to me,” he says, nipping at her earlobe. She shivers. 

“Fuck that,” she says hoarsely. “Didn’t bring you here to talk.” 

“Don’t worry, I can multitask.” Sam nibbles at the curve where her neck meets her shoulder, working delicate skin between his teeth, and pops the button of her jeans. He slides a hand down, teasing her clit with his fingertips, and repeats: “Tell me what you like.” 

“I like a lot less conversation and a whole lot more nudity,” Faith tosses back, but her voice is ragged, and she tilts her head to the side, baring her neck for his teeth. “I don’t fuckin’ know, dude, are we doing this or not?” 

He bends just enough to scoop her up, and she goes with it, wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck as he cups her ass with both hands. When he turns them around, slamming her back against the door and rolling his hips, Faith lets out a breathy sound of surprise. 

He drags his open mouth up the side of her throat and repeats, “Talk to me.” 

She pulls him up by the hair, forcing his head back, rough and perfect, and Sam moans against her lips as she kisses him. It’s more like a bite, all teeth and heat. 

“Bedroom’s that way,” she says huskily. 

She’s so strong, rock-solid where she’s wrapped around him, that it’s barely an effort to carry her through the small, spare living space. She’s got her hands in his hair and her teeth scraping his collarbone, and Sam grits his teeth against the sting as he kicks the door shut behind them. 

“Get your fuckin’ clothes off already,” she rasps, tugging at his flannel, and he strips both his shirts off obligingly, leaning back against the wall to balance as he discards them without putting Faith down. 

She lets go of his neck to help him, holding herself up with no support other than her abs and her thighs. Sam’s just as turned on by that casual display of strength as by the sight of bare skin — no bra — when she peels her tank top off. He hoists her a little higher, until he can flick his tongue over one hard pink nipple. He blows a stream of cool air over the sensitive skin and she shivers, thighs squeezing his sides as she arches her back. 

“What do you want?” Sam whispers, and laves his tongue over the other nipple. 

“Fuck, anything, you’re killin’ me here.” 

“Anything?” He scrapes pebbled skin with his teeth, savoring the way she squirms. 

“Want you naked. Now.” She twists out of his grasp like a cat, sliding down his front and landing gracefully on her feet. Gracefully but loudly, that is; she crouches to deal with her big chunky boots, and Sam toes off his own. 

He grins down at her as she tugs on his belt, admiring the way her mouth looks: bright red from his teeth, now, with the last smudges of lipstick smeared down her chin. 

Sam bats her hands away from his zipper. He picks her up before she can argue and tosses her bodily onto the bed, and she bounces on the mattress, her hair spilling across the sheet like a dark glossy halo. She lifts her hips to get her jeans off, her torso bowing up in a long elegant curve. 

Neither of them hide the way they check each other out when the clothes are finally out of the way. Sam kneels on the bed, looking down at her, and she bites her lip, tracking the movement of his hand as he strokes himself lazily. 

“Is this what you want?” he asks. “Ask for it.” 

Her eyes sparkle, mischievous and defiant, and she moves so fast that Sam’s taken by surprise when she grabs him — he can’t remember the last time that happened to him, let alone in bed. She pulls him down on top of her and rolls them over, switching their positions, and Sam laughs breathlessly as she pins his wrists to the pillow on either side of his head. 

“I don’t like takin’ orders,” she says smugly.

“Is that true?” Sam counters. “Or have you just never met anybody who knows how to give orders?” 

She looks startled by that, but instead of responding, she straddles him — sinks down on him wet and tight and perfect — and Sam has to grit his teeth and close his eyes for a moment, adjusting to all that sudden slippery heat around him. 

There’s a gratifyingly breathless note in her voice when she says, “Does it matter? Point is, I can take care of myself.” 

She’s not fucking kidding about that part. 

She arches into a spectacular back-bend, supporting herself with one hand and zero visible effort. Her other hand is between her legs, rubbing her clit hard and fast as she bucks her hips up in little jerky rocking movements — and there’s an image that will (hopefully) be seared into Sam’s memory until the day he dies. For a moment all he can do is watch and try to memorize it. Then he presses the heel of his hand into her lower belly, grinding into her as best he can, and she clenches around him, soaking and squeezing in pulses so intense it almost hurts as she comes with a rough, husky moan. 

“This is gonna be fun,” Sam breathes, and he tugs her upright for one searing kiss before flipping her onto her stomach. 

* * * * * * * * * *  

When Sam offers to wash her hair, she reacts like he just proposed marriage, except instead of an engagement ring, he’d offered her a grenade pin — shock, disbelief, and more than a little fear. 

“Please tell me this is a kinky thing,” she says warily, and Sam laughs, tilting his head back in the spray and sluicing water from his face with both hands. When he looks down at her again, she’s still got her lip curled and her defenses up. 

“It’s not a kinky thing,” he says, rolling his eyes. 

She can’t get far in the shower stall, but she turns her back to him, and Sam’s forcibly reminded of a cat, licking her paws dry after accidentally stepping in a puddle. 

“I can wash my own damn hair. Shit, don’t get all touchy-feely on me.” 

Sam’s had a lifetime of practice at remaining earnest in the face of someone who’s determined to pretend they don’t want his kindness. He knows better than to give up that easily. 

“Come here,” he says, smoothing his hands up her sides. She doesn’t relax, exactly, but she doesn’t shy away. “Faith. Different universe, remember? Not a romantic thing. I just want to touch you.” 

She takes a reluctant half-step back, settling against him without a word. 

Sam squirts a dollop of shampoo into his palm, tilting her chin up so that her head falls back, and he massages her scalp with his fingertips, rubbing in firm circles. 

“Keep your eyes closed for me,” he tells her quietly, maneuvering her into the spray, but he shields her face carefully with one hand as he starts to rinse the lather out, making sure the bubbles don’t go anywhere near the fan of her spiky-wet lashes. “Is this okay?” 

“Yeah,” she croaks, barely audible under the sound of the water. “S’ not so bad.” 

“Speaking of kinky things,” he says casually. “We should talk about that.” 

“Yeah?” 

“What do you like? What’s your safeword?” 

“Safeword?” She snorts, dismissive. “What, you really think you could dish out somethin’ I couldn’t take?” 

Sam clenches his jaw. He’s glad her back is to him so she can’t see the expression on his face right now. 

There are no more bubbles in her hair, but he keeps running his hands through it, just to have something to do as he figures out how to say this. 

“I don’t think there’s much you couldn’t take,” he tells her softly. “I think you might be the strongest woman I’ve ever met.” 

“Damn straight,” she mutters, mollified.

Sam squeezes out some conditioner, finger-combing it through her hair. 

“You don’t trust me,” he says. It’s not a question. 

“Fuck no,” she replies promptly. “Why would I? Trust is something you gotta earn.” 

Sam’s mouth twists into a smile. “Fair enough. But… it’s not about seeing how much you can take. It’s about you trusting me to stop, no questions asked, if you say that word. You want me to take control, I’ll do it. Believe me, I’m down. But not until you trust me. If you think you can do that, all you gotta do is ask. Okay?” 

She takes a breath like she wants to say something, but she seems to think better of it. She lets out a sigh, looking at him — through him — and all he gets is a subdued, “Yeah, okay.” 

Sam tilts her head back gently again, working his fingers through her hair until the little crease of a frown fades from her forehead. He turns her in his arms, cradling her against his chest, and she lets him, resting her cheek over his heart. 

“Poughkeepsie.” 

“Gesundheit.” 

“Cute. It’s a city where I — I was in over my head, one time, and I needed help. That’s my safeword.” 

She pulls back, looking up at him, confusion written all over her face. “Why are you telling me this?” 

“Because I trust you.” 

“Really?” 

Sam shrugs. “If somebody offered you a lot of money to kill me, I’d sure as fuck be watching my back. But… as far as respecting boundaries? Here and now, just you and me? Yeah, I trust you completely.” 

Faith stares, scanning his expression for a hint of a lie, but when she doesn’t find one, her eyes soften. Her lips curl briefly into a pleased little smile.   

“Didn’t really take you for the submissive type.”  

“I’m not.” 

She cocks her head thoughtfully, gaze calculating, and prods, “Go on, then. You’re the one who wants to talk about everything.”

“No bodily fluids.” 

“With you on that one. There’s good freaky fun and then there’s just freaky. What else? Bet you’d look real pretty tied to my bed.” 

“No chains. Ropes, cuffs, that’s fine — no chains. Um.. pain isn’t a big deal. I’d rather you didn’t draw blood, but… as far as pain goes, don’t worry about pushing too far.” 

“Tryna be a tough guy?” 

“No. Just telling you the facts. Temperature play is a hard limit. Ice, especially.” 

“Okay. So… if I wanted to blindfold you, tie you up, and ride your face for a while…” 

“Works for me.” She gets out of the shower without another word, grabbing a towel, all business, and he laughs. “Somebody’s in a hurry.” 

“You’ve got like sixty seconds before the hot water runs out and it gets all end-of-Titanic in there.” She flashes him a grin. “Also, yeah. Let’s go.” 

* * * * * * * * * *  

She pretends she’s asleep, for a while, but then she slips out of bed, and her bare feet don’t make a sound as she navigates the apartment in the dark. He hears the toilet flush, water run, then the creak of… something. 

He gives her a minute to herself before he gets up, just as silent as she was, and follows the smell of smoke to the open window. She’s leaning on the sill, silhouetted by the filtered yellow light of street lamps, and when she takes a drag the orange ember flares in the dark. 

“Jesus, fuckin’ scared the shit outta me,” she snaps. The Boston in her voice comes out strong when she’s startled. When she offers him the last bit of the cigarette he takes it, grabbing her wrist with the other hand, and throws it out the window as he pulls her close. 

“Hey, I was smokin’ that,” she protests, voice crackly like there’s a popping fire down in her chest. 

Sam traces the curve of her cheek. He brushes one curled knuckle back and forth over her lower lip and then drags the pad of his thumb over the pillow of it, watching the soft give as he presses down. Her tongue darts out to flicker over his thumb, but otherwise, she’s motionless. 

Faith takes his wrist, holding his hand to her mouth, and swirls her tongue over the pad of his thumb. Then she slides his index and middle fingers into her mouth, sucking on them shamelessly. They slide from her lips with a wet pop. A bolt of heat thuds through Sam’s gut — he’s only human. 

“I like your hands,” she purrs, with one last suggestive lick. 

“Something in particular you want me to do with them?” he asks. 

She hesitates and presses a kiss to the center of his palm before answering: “I bet you have some ideas.” 

“Tell me what you want, Faith.” 

For a second there’s a deer-in-headlights vulnerability in her huge dark eyes, and she can’t hide the slight frown that flickers across her face. 

“Why do you keep asking me that?” she whispers. She’s still holding his wrist. Sam twists to lace his fingers through hers instead, letting their joined hands drop palm-to-palm. 

“Because sex isn’t fun for me unless everybody’s getting what they want. Call me crazy, but…” 

“I brought you here, didn’t I? You know I want it. That’d be good enough, for most guys. Believe me, if you do somethin’ I don’t like, I’ll tell you about it.”  

Sam closes his eyes, thinking of a half-dozen possible answers to that question. He considers telling her about Meg and Gadreel and all the other things that have slithered in over the years and used his body without his permission. He feels a phantom pain in his palm and remembers Lucifer’s taunt — you let me in — and he considers telling her about why he can’t stand the feel of ice or the rattle of chains. 

He settles for the most fundamental answer: “Because you deserve to get what you want. You deserve better than ‘good enough.’”

She digests that silently for a moment, and then she guides his hand firmly to her hip, before grabbing the other and placing it flat on her breastbone. 

“Just… touch me?” she asks, and Sam smiles, shifting closer, running his hands over her skin: fingertips in the dip of her throat, thumb stroking her collarbone, palm sweeping up and down her side, gentle and deliberately innocent. 

“Why does it bother you so much when I ask?” he says softly. 

She grimaces, and for a second it looks like she’ll brush it off, make a joke of it. 

“Not used to it, I guess. Most guys don’t ask. I think guys look at me, they make some assumptions, you know?” 

“Such as?”

She shrugs. “Guess they figure I’m down for anything.” 

“Faith.” 

“Don’t. Anyway, it’s more than that. Most people, they only offer to give you something if they want something in return.” 

“What do you think I want from you?” 

“That’s what’s got me spun out. Figured you just wanted a great lay, but… you’re still here.” She drops her gaze. “Bein’ all sweet and shit.”

Sam tries to hide his smile. “Should I not be?” 

“Can’t figure you out,” Faith mumbles. “You’re different.” 

Sam thinks about that for a moment as he folds to his knees in front of her. He drags his mouth down the center of her chest, tasting salt, and nips at the soft skin under her belly-button. 

“How do you mean?” He looks up at her again, holding eye contact as he traces her hipbone with his tongue. 

“I’m not the kinda chick that sweet guys usually go for, you know?” She slides her fingers through his hair, tugging lightly, and Sam hums his approval. “The nice ones know better. I’m the girl all the bad guys want.”

“That seems a bit reductive, don’t you think?” 

“See, shit like that. Your mouth’s an inch away from my pussy and you’re using words like reductive.”

“I just want you. All of you, not just the ‘nice’ parts or the shit you show most guys.” 

“Might not be saying that if — oh. Do that again.” 

“Faith, trust me when I say that whatever you’ve done, I’ve done worse.”

“Jesus, can we talk about this later?” 

“What do you want?” 

“Want you to get your ass back in bed and quit teasing, for starters.” 

“I can do that.”

* * * * * * * * * *  

“The fuck did you find in the fridge?” Faith asks hoarsely. 

“Beer and pickles,” he says, glancing over his shoulder with a grin. 

She’s leaning against the frame of the bedroom door, wearing his flannel and nothing else. It’s open, baring a long slice of pale skin, from the dip between her breasts and down her stomach to a neat trail of dark hair. She looks like a centerfold, but rumpled and sleepy-eyed and real, human, in a way that makes it so much hotter. 

“You went out.” She frowns at the front door.

“Are you surprised I came back?” 

“Honestly? Not really.” Sam hides his smile at that answer. “Except that door’s supposed to lock automatically.” 

“It does. I picked the lock.” 

“Anything you can’t do?” Faith comes over and hoists herself up onto the counter next to him, eyeing the pan of bacon eagerly. 

“Never been good at walking in heels.” Sam passes her the extra large to-go cup of dark roast he’d gotten her from the local coffee place, and she grins. 

“Shit, you really know how to spoil a girl.” 

Sam puts a hand on her bare thigh, thumb running back and forth idly as he takes her in, tracing the shape of her body with his eyes. She gives him a raised eyebrow and sips her coffee quietly. There’s none of the wariness or put-on swagger from last night. She just seems comfortable. 

“No bruises,” he says, hand sliding up higher, finding nothing but unblemished skin where he knows he left marks. Every imprint of Sam’s teeth and hands and hipbones has melted away. 

“Slayer healing.” She leans back on her palms, inviting him to touch more. Sam pulls his hand away — pancakes to flip — but he smirks. 

“That’s a shame. They looked good on you.” 

Faith’s eyes go dark. “Yeah?” 

“I’ll just have to leave some more… later. Breakfast is ready.” 

Faith eats with an indecent enthusiasm that reminds him of Dean, but somehow that doesn’t surprise him. Which… speaking of Dean — Sam borrows her cell as they’re finishing breakfast, because apparently other universes aren’t included in his roaming service, and a sleepy female voice picks up. 

“Faith?” 

“Sam, actually. Is my brother around?” 

“Sam? Did you… you and Faith?” Buffy’s voice goes a little squeaky at the end. Then there’s indistinct scuffling. 

Faith swipes her index finger through the maple syrup that’s left on her plate, sucking it clean, hollowing her cheeks in a way that’s pretty fucking distracting. 

“Sammy?” 

Sam rolls his eyes. “Hey. You didn’t even notice I was gone, did you?”

“Where are you? Who’s Faith?” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Sam says. “Did Charlie fix the thing?”

“Uh, hang on.” There’s a muffled conversation on the other line. 

Faith gets up, walking around the table to pick up Sam’s plate, her movements slinky and deliberate, her hips swaying, showing off tantalizing glimpses of skin as his flannel skims the curves of her body. He twists around to watch her go. Faith sets both plates in the sink and stretches, and the flannel rides up her thighs. 

“Pretty sure Charlie’s not awake yet either,” Dean says. “Late nights all around. Go team. Should we save you some breakfast?” 

“No, I’m busy.” 

Dean is saying something, but Sam’s not really paying attention. Faith is leaning on the table, bent at the waist, the flannel riding up to expose the lower curve of her ass. Sam turns in his chair to raise an eyebrow at her, pointedly adjusting himself in his jeans. She smirks like the cat who got the cream. 

“Just call this number when you need me, Dean,” Sam says abruptly, cutting him off. “See you later.” He hangs up before Dean can get a protest in. 

She bats her eyelashes, sugary-sweet. “Sorry, did I distract you?” 

“Don’t lie. You’re not sorry at all.” Sam shakes his head, mock-scolding, and gives her a light tap, mostly to watch the way her flesh jiggles just right under his hand. 

She grins, wiggling her hips and spreading her legs a little wider. “If you’re gonna do it, do it like you mean it.” 

There’s a long, weighted pause. 

“Are you asking me for —”

“Fuck yes I am.” 

“Faith…” 

She’s quiet but sincere when she says, “I trust you.” 

Sam exhales sharply, and because she looks nervous, now, he quips, “Should’ve known bacon would do the trick.” She laughs at that and relaxes, so he stands up slowly and asks, “Safeword?” 

“Dorchester.” 

Sam smiles — equal parts amused by the word choice and touched by the trust. He runs a hand down her back and then up again, taking the soft fabric with him, rucking it up. He takes his time, drawing it out to watch the way she pouts, positioning himself behind her and flattening a palm between her shoulderblades to push her down. She braces herself on her forearms. 

“Good girl.” 

“Well?” 

“Be patient.” 

“Fucking hit me already,” she says sulkily. 

“You can have anything you want,” he promises her, and he grabs a handful of hair, yanking her head back. “You just have to ask for it. Politely.” 

He hears the way she sucks in a breath, ragged and desperate, and he smiles. 

“Please spank me. Hard.”

“Good girl,” he repeats. He steps back and squeezes before smacking her, nowhere near hard enough to hurt. 

“C’mon, is that the best you’ve got?” she teases, laughing. 

“You know it’s not.” He brings his hand down with a satisfying sound, and Faith groans. 

“Harder,” she grits out. 

The next one makes her cry out, ragged and ecstatic. He hits her again, hard enough that his palm smarts, wrist snapping precisely so that the blows are spaced just right across her ass and her upper thighs. 

By the time he pauses again she’s panting harshly. He takes a second to admire her, the pretty shade of red blossoming on her pale skin and the way she’s arching her back, putting herself on display for him. 

“Fuck, you look good like this.” He kicks her feet farther apart and traces up her center with two callused fingertips. “So wet already, aren’t you?” 

She tries to push back into it, to fuck herself on his fingers as she whimpers, “More?” 

He lets loose, brings his palm down with a vicious crack, and he can see the way her legs start to shake. 

“Shit, do you have any idea what you do to me?” He leans forward, grinding against her, letting her feel how hard he is through his jeans, and when he pulls back again she moans. Her skin is hot to the touch. He runs his fingers over it teasingly before sliding two fingers into her cunt, curling them, pumping and twisting as Faith curses and clenches around him. 

“Need you,” she pants. “More.” 

“Let me hear you,” he says. He pulls his fingers out and spanks her again, and she shudders, head bowed, pussy glistening wet. 

“Please fuck me,” she breathes. He’s reaching for his belt before she gets the word out. 

“Since you asked so nicely.” 

He rubs the head of his cock through her slickness, teasing, and when she tries to push back, his shaft slides between her lips, dragging along her clit. He bites back a groan and plants his left hand solidly at the base of her neck, forcing her to drop down with her cheek to the table, holding her in place. 

“Shit,” she snaps. “Fuckin’ give it to me.” 

“What did I say?” 

“Want to feel that big thick cock, please,” she says. He can hear the wicked edge in her voice. “Want to feel you fillin’ me up when I come. Just fucking wreck me, Sam. Hold me down and make me scream… please.” She pauses and then asks smugly, “Fuckin’ polite enough for you?”

She could recite a grocery list in that ragged, raspy voice and it’d probably turn him on, at this point; as it is, he feels dizzy from sudden lack of bloodflow to his brain. 

“We gotta work on those manners,” he says softly, and pushes into her, just a couple inches, before sliding out again. She whines.

He does it over and over again — one torturously shallow thrust after another — working her open with little rocking motions that are nowhere near enough. She whimpers, and he watches, clocking every shudder that runs up her spine, every involuntary quiver as he fucks into her a little deeper, slick spreading up the flushed-dark length of his cock with each stroke. 

It takes every last shred of his self-control, but he forces himself to move slowly, deliberately, until she’s dripping wet and slamming her fists into the table. 

Finally, she caves, sobbing two syllables like they’re the only words she remembers: “Please — Sam — please — Sam — please —” 

“That’s better,” he sighs, and grabs her by the hips, shifting until he finds the spot that makes her twitch and squirm. She quakes when he hits it dead-on, and he sets an unrelenting pace, fucking her so hard the table hammers against the wall, a rapid-fire counterpoint to her broken, drawn-out cries. 

Faith bucks helplessly as she comes, and Sam lets go a split-second later, half collapsing forward as he grinds into her one last time. He braces himself with both palms flat on the wood, and his knees threaten to give out. 

His first coherent thought is amazement that the table is still standing, and while he’s trying to remember how to speak, Faith mumbles, “Shit, can’t believe we haven’t broken any furniture yet.” Sam laughs so unexpectedly he almost chokes, and maybe it’s contagious, because Faith starts giggling too. 

Sam maneuvers them onto one of the chairs in a messy pretzel of sweat and skin and half-discarded clothes. A surge of pure giddy affection swells in his ribcage, and he wraps his arms around her, squeezing tight, tickling her with his stubble against her neck until she shrieks and twists. 

Faith turns her head at an awkward angle to kiss him. Then she mumbles, “Is there more bacon? I could go for more bacon.” 

“Anything you want.” 

* * * * * * * * * *  

Faith stretches extravagantly as she gets up from the opposite end of the couch, and his flannel slips off her shoulders. She lets it fall as she pads over to the fridge. 

“Have I mentioned today how good you look naked?” Sam asks. 

She pulls two bottles of beer from the fridge and strikes a goofy, mock-sexy pose. “No, but go right ahead.” 

“You look really fucking good naked.”

“Not so bad yourself.” She passes him a bottle and sprawls out with her legs draped across his lap. “Why’d you put your clothes back on, anyway?” 

“Hot bacon grease and nudity isn’t a good combo. Trust me.” 

“Sounds like the voice of experience talking there.” 

“Not personal experience,” Sam says with a smirk. “Dean, though…” 

She laughs. He tosses the last bite of bacon at her, and she catches it in her mouth. 

“Not cooking any more though, are you?” she asks archly. 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” He obliges, though, stripping unceremoniously, and Faith catcalls. She crawls into his lap when he sits back down, leaning in for a kiss that tastes like beer. 

“Much better,” she says quietly, pressing her forehead to his. 

“Really thought I might’ve tired you out there.” 

“Honestly? Yeah, I need a minute,” she confesses, with a laugh. “Just wanted some eye candy.” 

“At your service.” 

She settles a little more comfortably in his lap, straddling him, and they exchange slow, lazy kisses. Sam can’t bring himself to stop kissing her. Her lips are soft and plush, and every brush of her tongue and nip of her teeth feels like a luxury, like something he should treasure, because he knows this intimacy has an expiration date. 

They stare at each other for a long moment, sweet and almost shy. 

Sam offers, “Want to watch a soap opera on mute and make up our own dialogue?”

Her dimples really show when she’s surprised to find herself smiling. She grabs their beers and the remote from the milk crate that serves as her coffee table, raising her bottle in a toast, and then she curls up at Sam’s side, naked and soft and bruised. She fits under his arm like she was meant to be there. 

It’s the happiest Sam can remember being in a long time. 

Normal, he thinks. This is what normal people do — breakfast and kisses on the couch — tenderness and softness and quiet everyday vulnerability. 

Then again, neither of them are normal, not really. Maybe that’s why Sam feels so comfortable with her.

* * * * * * * * * *  

This time, she passes him the shampoo without a word, sighing as he cradles the back of her skull with one hand and smooths the hair back from her forehead with the other. When he’s finished, hazy honey-colored eyes blink up at him slowly, like she’s coming out of a trance. It’s a dizzying change from the last time they did this. 

They haven’t said goodbye yet and he already misses her — misses this — but he knows he’s lucky to have it for a moment, however brief. 

The scalding water feels like heaven on his sore muscles. Sam tilts his head to the side, trying to stretch, and his neck makes a series of popping noises. Faith winces in sympathy. 

“Shit, man,” she chuckles. “You sound like Rice Krispies.” She maneuvers around him in the narrow space, reaching up to dig her knuckles into one of his many knots. Sam groans, exaggeratedly pornographic. 

Her hands are small, but strong, and Sam’s melting under her palms, increasingly loose-limbed and pliant as she works her thumbs in circles down the muscles on either side of his spine. 

“We should get out of here before I forget how to stand up,” he mutters, and Faith laughs. “I think it’s your turn.” 

“I like the sound of that.” 

She lays herself out on the bed, stomach down, and Sam takes a moment to stare. The way she’s put together — sleek muscle and lush curves under creamy skin — is like art. If she was anyone else, Sam might call her delicate, but he knows better; he knows exactly what she can do. She’s a hurricane disguised as a porcelain doll. 

He looks down at his own rough fingers, thickly callused from pencils and triggers and punches, and grabs a bottle of lotion from the dresser before he settles on the bed, straddling her hips. His hands seem massive on her shoulders, and when he drags his palms down, wrapping his fingers around the slim curve of her waist, he marvels at the way she almost fits in the circle of his grasp. 

He loses himself in the pleasure of just touching her — in the glide of silky skin under his fingers — in the soft grunts and hums she lets out when he works his fingers into a particularly tight knot. He sweeps his thumbs down the pretty little dimples at the small of her back and then lower, caressing and kneading. He’s careful to avoid pressing on the dappled purple-red bruises from earlier, but he skims them appreciatively, feather-light.

“Do those hurt?” he whispers. 

“Little bit. I like it.” 

He was already half-hard, aroused in a distant, lazy sort of way, but his dick twitches at that. 

He brushes his fingertips down the outsides of her thighs, then up the insides, watching the way she spreads her legs wider for him, but he stops just short of the apex, tracing out along the creases where her ass meets her legs instead. 

This feels like a form of worship. 

Sam bends to press his mouth to the small of her back, kissing one dimple then the other. He trails sweet open-mouthed kisses down the curve of her ass, lips dragging reverently over velvety skin, licking and sucking along the tops of her thighs, drinking in the way she whimpers and shivers. 

“More?” she murmurs. 

Sam hooks an arm around her, sliding his forearm under her hips to cant them up so he can lick a thick stripe right up her center, swiping his tongue down and up again with a slick slurping noise. The angle isn’t comfortable but it’s fucking hot; it feels like he’s completely surrounded by her, like this, and when he licks deeper, fucks her shallowly with his tongue, the taste of her arousal floods his senses, until the soapy-clean smell of freshly-showered skin is lost under salty-sweet musk and Sam’s mouth and chin are a mess of slick and spit. 

She’s trembling as she repeats, “More.” 

He drags his tongue in one broad swipe from her clit up between her ass cheeks, and she curses, pressing back against his mouth. He twists two fingers into her cunt, feeling her clamp down around his scarred knuckles and shudder under his mouth, a frisson of pleasure that travels all the way up her spine. He curls his tongue against tight muscle and crooks his fingers, circles her swollen clit with his thumb, and she muffles a sharp cry into the pillow as she comes. 

“More — please — Sam?” she gasps, still clenching around him, so wet he can hear the sound of his fingers pumping into her one last time. 

He slides on top of her, blanketing her body with his, kissing the nape of her neck as he presses into her. She reaches back and fists a hand in his hair, making a rough wordless noise that sounds like a question, and her fingers twist until his scalp stings and Sam groans. He sits up, straddling her legs, and his entire body throbs with the pulse of blood in his cock as he fucks her. With her legs together like this, pinned under him, she feels so impossibly tight — velvety-soft and steely all at once — he can barely see straight. 

She’s crying out with every gasping breath: “More — please.” 

Sam wonders what he could do if he could learn her body, learn what she likes, learn how to take her apart in seconds or draw it out until she’s a writhing mess… if he had just a little more time with her. 

* * * * * * * * * *  

Faith is wrecked and gorgeous on top of him, not riding him so much as undulating: deep scooping twists of her hips, rising and falling syrupy-slow like she’s moving underwater. There’s dark sweat-soaked hair clinging to her temples and a hazy-eyed, rosy-cheeked expression of bliss on her face. Sam watches a droplet of sweat trickle down between her breasts.

He’s losing his grip on time and the boundaries that used to sit so decisively between them. They’re both exhausted to the point that everything seems a little surreal, dreamy, right in that sweet spot where they might be too tired to come again but languid, sensual sex still feels amazing. 

“So fucking perfect,” he whispers. “Just like that.” 

Faith tilts forward to kiss him, melting against his chest as she rolls her hips. He wraps her up in his arms and flips them, still inside her, still twined around her. He rocks into her, testing one angle and then another, hitching her leg up higher around his waist, grinding and swiveling until he finds the angle that makes her choke out a curse and clutch at his biceps.

“There,” she whimpers. 

Heat starts to pool low in his gut, building slowly but inevitably. He leans down to kiss her, tasting salt, mouths brushing clumsily between deep ragged breaths. 

“Gorgeous like this.” 

“Sam,” she says helplessly, in the shredded whisper that’s left of her voice. “This — you —“ 

“I’ve got you, it’s okay. I know.” 

Neither of them are particularly coherent, but he knows. 

Gold rays of sun slant through the blinds in stripes, illuminating the amber in her irises and the suspicious shine gathering in the corner of her eyes. She smiles up at him in a way that leaves him breathless. It takes him by surprise, the trust in her expression and the heaviness in the moment, and he knows she can feel it too. 

Sam wants to shy away from it, but he can’t take his eyes off her. 

“Where’s that Al Green soundtrack when you need it, huh?” she manages, and it shocks a breathless laugh out of Sam. Faith giggles too, choked-up and overtired and hoarse. Sam can feel her laugh, feels the rippling clench of wet-hot muscle around him; his body reacts with this gut-punch of arousal, and he snaps his hips, driving in deep. She lets out a rough moan and writhes under him, raking her nails down his back. 

From there it builds fast, wild and uncontrollable and blinding, both of them clawing at each other, moving on pure animalistic instinct, lost in each other — lost in the moment. It’s the sort of orgasm that hits like a blackout, like Sam’s out of his body for a few seconds that might as well be an eternity.

When he comes to, he’s whispering nonsense into the sweat-slick crook of her neck — babbling endearments, calling her baby — saying sweet stupid things she would never accept if she was in her right mind, but she doesn’t argue; he’s grateful. In return, Sam pretends not to notice the tears sparkling in her eyelashes.  

They’re not sad tears, he knows that much. She’s beaming up at him, all this messy pure human happiness shining in her eyes. She’s beautiful. 

Eventually they stop shaking, and Sam whispers, “Nap?” 

“Yeah.” 

She tucks herself under his chin, and he strokes her hair, counting the breaths before she drops off. She’s asleep in ten, and Sam loses count at eleven. 

* * * * * * * * * *  

They’re woken in disorienting darkness by a jangling ringtone, and Sam’s immediate instinct is to grab the gun he keeps under his pillow. There’s no gun, though — just a warm naked girl draped over him, cursing like a sailor as the phone continues to ring — because there’s no need for a gun here. 

Faith answers the phone by growling a suggestion that sounds anatomically improbable, and Sam hears Dean’s gruff baritone on the other end. He snatches the phone out of her hand. 

“S’the middle of the fucking night, Dean,” he grumbles. 

“Dude, it’s nine. When was the last time you were asleep by nine?” 

“Fuck.” He knuckles at his eyes and fights the urge to hang up, turn the phone off, and burrow under the sweat-soaked sheets to sleep until he actually feels rested for once. “Yeah, okay, be there soon.”

Sam is about to apologize for waking Faith, but she sits up too, switching on the lamp, looking around bleary-eyed. 

“Gonna walk with you as far as the graveyard,” she says, through a yawn. “Vamps don’t take a night off.” 

Sam feels like he got hit by a goddamn truck, sore and achy all over, but the exhaustion goes much deeper than that. In spite of it, he’s smiling as they dress. 

They’re quiet, nothing but a soft, “You see my other sock?” interrupting the heavy silence. They don’t touch as they leave the dark apartment and head down the dingy stairwell into the warm California night, and they don’t talk. They’re pulling themselves together — rebuilding the walls that separate them from normal people — putting on the emotional armor that allows them to fight the battles they have to fight.  

They don’t wander away from the path through the cemetery, this time, and the monsters don’t find them. When they reach the gate on the other side, Faith stops. 

“You know how to get back from here?” 

“Yeah.” He pulls her in by her jacket to kiss her, deep and bruising. 

She pulls away enough to mutter, “Fuckin’ figures you’re from another goddamn universe.” 

“If things were different —” 

“They’re not, though,” Faith says, smiling ruefully. “And that’s for the best.” 

“Probably wouldn’t end well, would it? ” 

“We’d never get outta bed, the monsters would take over. Every universe needs its heroes, right?” 

“Right.” Sam cradles her face in his hands to give her another soft kiss and says, “Take care of yourself.”  

Faith steps back. “Always do.”

She turns, pulling a stake out of her jacket as she stalks away, off the path toward the darker corners of the graveyard. Sam watches her go. 

She doesn’t look back, but before she’s out of earshot, she shouts, “Quit starin’ at my ass and go save the world already. You’ve got work to do.” 

Sam laughs, and then he rolls his eyes and starts walking, smiling to himself. She’s not wrong. 

.

.

.

[sunsetcurve]

THE POST FINALE HENRY DANGER OPINIONS TAG:

thank you for the tag @chenryhart , @ginger--binger , and @henryhearts ! (i used eliza’s version because it had more questions lol)

Who was your overall favourite member of Team Danger and why? i will never be able to decide between charlotte and henry (it’s called being bisexual). i relate to charlotte a lot, and she’s a role model for me; she’s smart, she’s bold, she knows what she wants and i really love her for it. henry, on the other hand—there are moments when i’ve disliked him but i’ve watched him grow up, i’ve watched him be a hero for so long and i do still admire him a lot. he’s brave and loyal and he cares so much about people, like i’ll honestly just be soft for him forever. 

Who was your favourite non-team danger character and why? gonna have to go with bose and mika (who count, right?) because they’re both so pure and enthusiastic and i can’t wait to see more of them

Who was your favourite villain and why? definitely twitler. i think he was the only villain that had actual motivation, and he was definitely the least cringey of all of them. he set up high stakes and challenged team danger a lot.

What were your top five favourite Henry Danger episodes of all time and why? ooh, good one. okay i think the finale is my all-time favorite. it just really was the culmination of the core of this show and there were so many amazing moments between all the characters. the actors and writers delivered so hard. second would have to be back to the danger because that episode was solid start to finish. i love the high-stakes episodes, and the time travel was a really cool aspect. third would probably be the three-parter, because again, i love the high stakes episodes, and that one really brought it. fourth would be broken armed and dangerous because it was completely hilarious. and fifth would probably have to be either double o danger, because i loved getting to see them all dressed up and undercover and joss moss was awesome, or i dream of danger because it was charlotte centric and also chenry. honorable mention to danger games entirely because of that scene where all four game shakers fall in love with henry at once. 

What were your top five least favourite Henry Danger episodes of all time and why? not a fan of henry’s birthday because i can’t watch it without getting incredibly pissed; like it’s a well-made episode i just get really upset while watching it. i hated man of the house because the whole ray trying to get with henry’s mom made me suuuper uncomfortable. i did not like one henry three girls because the cheating plot was not it for me, or sick and wired for the same reason as henry’s birthday, and also because that was definitely the episode where dad!ray started to disappear. and captain mom because...nope.

What was your favourite running gag and why? oh god i have so many that i made a full post about this. the hmm thing was awesome, especially the fact that they acknowledged it. i also love the “piper has a license—established” joke 

What was your favourite one-off throw away gag and why? gonna steal @henryhearts answer here and say the cat universe that respected charlotte; also bringing back the bro song from the musical that one time.

What episode, which character and which duo made you laugh the most? episode would definitely be broken armed and dangerous. laugh after laugh. the arm fashion show? the part where henry’s like “i’m plum-tuckered!”? the sign language interpreter? peak. character would be henry because i LOVE the way he reacts to stuff, like when he does his little *hand clasp* “there is something wrong with you” or like “dude, dude, dude, dude, dude—”. duo would probably be ray and henry because bose was right, their banter is hilarious.

What episode, which character and which duo made you the most emotional? episode would be the finale, and i feel like i don’t have to explain myself there. character would also be henry, like, the whole “i was thirteen!” thing and the fact that he’s given so much to this makes me want to cry sometimes. duo would be chenry because they’ve been together since the beginning and i have way too many feelings about them.

How would you rank each season from 1 to 5, one being the best and five being the worst? this is difficult, because i think season 5 is my favorite overall because of it had so many solid episodes and high stakes and good plots, but there were also sooo many things i didn’t like. still! i think it takes the top spot. after that would be season 2, just because it was really fun and fresh and in that stage where they’d started to figure things out as a show but weren’t getting cocky just yet. then probably season 3, then 1, then 4, because that season didn’t really have anything that stood out to me besides back to the danger. 

Who was your favourite duo in the show (romantic or non-romantic)? chenry, but hensper and chasper were both very close seconds

What was your favourite Henry and Ray moment/episode? blimp scene and i don’t think it’s necessary for me to elaborate

What was your favourite Chenry moment/episode? toss up between the lion scene in idod and the time jerker because of “this is for you, char” and the hug at the end

What was your favourite Hensper moment/episode? when jasper found out oh my god. that was SO good. also love muffin and “as henry’s best friend...and soulmate”

What was your favourite Chensper moment/episode? oh god The Scene in the finale when henry is telling char to get out of there and she’s not leaving him and jasper has to carry her out and it just shows how much they all care for each other. and the fact that they all went to dystopia together!

If you could go back and change one element of the show, what would it be? RESPECT. CHARLOTTE. PERIOD. (i would change a lot of ray’s character as a whole, especially season 4/5 tbh)

If you could say one thing to each main character in the pilot, what would it be? i would tell the trio to stick together, appreciate each other, and don’t forget to be kids. i would tell ray not to bring a 13 year old kid who doesn’t have powers into this.

If you could say one thing to each main character in the finale, what would it be? i’m proud of you

Were you satisfied with the finale? What part was your favourite and what part was your least favourite? yes. i think overall there are always going to be things they could have handled better. but i’m happy with the way it ended. i think it’s fitting and wonderful and i felt good. favorite part would be the entire part in the finale with henry arguing with ray about who’s going to go down and later with char and jasper for them to leave. partially because i’m a glutton for angst, but also because the actors put so much into it and it was a real display of emotion and feels, and it showed henry’s selflessness and heroic nature so plainly. least favorite was the fact that char never got an apology from ray.

What would your ideal Henry danger spin off look like? dystopia!!!!!!!! the trio fighting crime in dystopia but it’s pg-13 and also they’re falling in love. also they sometimes come back to visit ray and mentor the danger force kids.

Where do you personally see the characters 10 years from now? What are they doing, who are they with, where are they in their lives - what do you think happened to them? Most importantly, are they happy? i think the trio is going to be living and fighting crime together for a while. char runs a charity on the side, jasper does photography, and henry is a botanist. but they’re first and foremost a team. piper runs a media company and ray and schwoz are being parents to the DF kids. they all still have thanksgivings together and yes, they’re all very happy.

What was your favourite part of the show and why did it initially draw you in? so i watched the thundermans right before this, and the whole reason i got into it was because i love anything superhero related but i wanted something lighthearted instead of my usual gritty dctv shows. i stayed for the humor and because the kids were cute, and yeah i did develop a crush on henry as the seasons went on. sue me.

What was your favourite part of the fandom and why did it initially draw you in? the people are so! freaking! supportive! i made some really amazing friends through this fandom, and everyone is sooo talented and kind and just unproblematic as hell. i love it.

Describe your overall emotions/feelings regarding the show being over and the show in general, looking back on it as a whole, with one quote from the show. the iconic “feels good”

If you were able to add one scene in the finale, what would you add? charlotte getting a goddamn apology and some recognition. also i would’ve liked to see the in-between of the blimp crash and the funeral, aka henry reuniting with ray, jasper, and char after they all thought he was dead

Favorite outfit/hair style? i LOVED the trio’s looks in the epilogue. char’s outfits every single episode? their looks in double o danger. piper and henry’s sister twister outfits were also very cute. for each character: i like char’s braids, henry with the curly hair he had in the finale, jasper in a crop top, ray’s bangs and blazer, and that one time schwoz was in a leotard and tutu.

Least favorite character? mine would be jake hart, and i feel like that’s another one of those things that doesn’t need an explanation

one twist: add one question at the end for the next person to answer! tag at least two people so this spreads around!

i’m tagging @bitchmilsky @cactus-con @rorythevambire @bijerbear @mychenrymadness and anyone else who wants to do it!

[mono-kookie]

Thoughts on Daechwita...

I’m answering this on my main blog so my fic rec blog remains pure lol so the content on there is just related to fanfic ^-^ thank you for sending me an ask baby anon I hope you’re ready for a rant (that may be filled with typos):

Okay not gonna lie I like agust d and give it to me more than daechwita but it’s still amazing and yoongi did not disappoint on that note my fav lines are probs “pathetic fucks putting on a talent show / not gonna lie what a shit-show”, “that’s your excuse for popping pills, cry me a river, you just got no skills”, and “yeah, what’s next? Here comes my reality check, there’s nowhere higher” although I found agust d to be more savage there were definitely some fire spitting raps throughout daechwita 

And on that note yoongi said that he wanted to use the word for one of his tracks bc daechwita is played for a king’s visit or an army visiting so obviously this was very applicable to bts and the fandom plus I think the the chorus is just really catchy and since daechwita means “great blowing/hitting” it might refer to how yoongi and the other members’ success blew up charts, their songs were hits, this track is a hard hit bc of them fire spitting raps, etc. the word can have many meanings that can all relate to bts and each member’s careers which I love

AND SPEAKING OF THE OTHER MEMBERS JIN AND JUNGKOOK PFFFFF THE FIRST TIME I WATCHED IT (I’ve only seen the mv once I’m busy with summer classes sue me I’m sorry 😭) I WAS LIKE WAIT THAT LOOKS LIKE JIN AND THAT OTHER GUY IS REALLY PRETTY BUT BRUSHED IT OFF THEN I SAW THE PICS AND GIFS ON TUMBLR AND I WAS LIKE 0.0 THAT SHIT IS GREAT AND I LOVE IT

Now as for the mv not gonna lie I was like awesome cool yg is a king okay let’s see where this goes then I was like ?? okay so he’s like a rebel too ?? agust d vs agust d??? But I went with it and I loved the story like the king is like I was born from nothing but I got here myself by working hard but then the power corrupted him I guess?? and had no tolerance for shit talking “all shit-talk they got no game / off with their heads” (I love that line too gaaah) but then rebel agust d is like yeah I worked hard and got what I wanted (clothes, money, goals) but he’s like but what now? I have things but I’m not grounded in my life (“I only looked up and now I want to look down and put my feet on the ground”) this is the part where the agust d’s confront each other and honestly it’s awesome bc the king loves him until he disses him (king’s thumbs up becomes thumbs down which I pff’d at lol)

WHICH BRINGS ME TO THIS PART yoongi’s comments about how the king is the previous blonde agust d (who talked about wanting fame, dissing shit talkers, rubbed his success in their face, “give it to me”) and the new agust d is the rebel so basically the old agust d got carried away with silencing shit talkers and got what he wanted (the fame and success and skills) but rebel agust d disses him when he says okay but now what I want is to be more grounded in my life and find more meaning and just live so the king didn’t like that bc the old agust d didn’t like shit talkers right but bc he’s corrupted he tells him to cut off his head (which is a great blow aka daechwita) but in the end the new agust d wins and kills his old self with a gun WHICH ALSO GOES BACK TO THE MEANING OF DAECHWITA SO MANY POSSIBILITIES WITH THIS WORD ABSOLUTE GENIUS 

BUT ALSO REMINDS OF HIS OTHER TRACK BURN IT like “there’s someone in the mirror that you don’t know” agust d has lost himself to his previous ambitions and wants to “put his feet on the ground” and be more grounded and true to himself so when rebel agust d shoots king agust d it also reminds me of his lines in burn it “after tasting success / what has changed in me compared to then? / I don’t know, I’m not much different / let’s burn it, my past self”, “no matter what, yeah, set fire to it, you bastard / the past you, the present you / anything is fine, so, set fire to it, you bastard”

THAT WAS A WHOLE ASS RANT BUT YES AS A WHOLE I LOVE DAECHWITA AND THE MV IT WAS FUNNY AND CREATIVE I MEAN DID YOU SEE THE DRAWING OF BANG PD WHEN HE RAPPED ABOUT HIM XD also it killed me too especially when he gave us Yoonji on weverse he is just jinigniegjrgijenreh I love that he doesn’t care about his gender identity (fuck toxic masculinity) and low key does it bc he wants to but also bc he knows we love yoonji he gender bends playfully yet respectfully (like he took his role so seriously in that run bts ep we stan a good man but also let’s not forget the fact that he said that personality matters more than gender when asked about his ideal type hehehe) anyways

Thank you for coming to my ted talk I hope you’re doing well baby anon ^-^ 🖤 

[babylonduke]

30 Questions Challenge

 was tagged by @royal-lucas thank you so much, peach!! 

1: How tall are you? 5′8 or 172.72 cm 

2: What color and style is your hair? Dark brown, naturally curly and up to my shoulders. I wear it half up half down with bangs usually!!

3: What color are your eyes? Hazel

4: Do you wear glasses? Nope

5: Do you wear braces? I think this is referring to the braces for ur teeth and not suspenders, but either way, no haha.

6: What is your fashion style? For work, I keep it casual with some leggings and a tshirt and Dr. Martens but for outside of work, I wear variations of skirts and band tees and sweaters and my Dr Martens go with every outfit so idk what that style would be called lmaooo

7: Full name? Kenzlie Hope Gaither

8: When were you born? January 25, 2000. Just turned 19 ayeee

9: Where are you from and where do you live now? I’m from Tennessee, USA, and still live there now! 

10: What school do you go to? In August, I’ll start college at UT Martin.

11: What kind of student are you? I’m detailed oriented and love everything to have an order and structure, but I suck at studying haha 

12: Do you like school? I love having something to do throughout the week, but I don’t really like much else about school. When I graduated, I was so relieved lmao

13: What are your favorite school subjects? English and history :-) 

14: Favorite TV shows? I’m currently obsessed with only watching SFX Channels on Youtube so I’ll tell you my favorite sfx youtubers instead lol: ElliMacsSfx, glamandgore, and jordan hanz. Actual tv tho, my favorite show is Supernatural & That 70′s Show & Friends sue me lol

15: Favorite movies? Buckle up boys this list is long(these are all movies i watch religiously and never get tired of): 13 Going on 30, Scooby Doo and the Spooky Island, Sydney White, Pan’s Labyrinth, Any of the Spy Kids movies, Monsters vs Aliens, Cars 3, and She’s the Man. This definitely isn’t all of them but I switch between all these movies to fall asleep to lolol

16: Favorite books? I haven’t sat down and read an actual book in so long, but one book I use to read a lot and really love is Carry On by Rainbow Rowell. 

17: Favorite pastimes? I love to sit and watch Youtube when I can, play guitar, and write. 

18: Do you have any regrets? I regret becoming a fangirl sometimes. It has consumed me every since Justin Bieber became famous, and it hasn’t stopped since. LOL. But seriously, no. I never put myself in situations I think that I’ll regret. And I’m not sure how to explain this next part but my friend and I always talk about regret. And so, I have a half naked girl tattooed on my arm and a lot of people think I’ll regret it, but I always tell them that even if I get older and regret that decision, I really wanted it at the time and loved it for so many years, so can I truly regret it? (SORRY i went on a tangent, i just feel things deeply and wanted to further explain why i don’t believe in regret hahahaha)

19: Dream job? My dream job is ultimately to become a well-established and famous singer/songwriter, BUT realistically, my dream job is a music producer! 

20: Would you like to be married someday? i think about this question a lot and the more i think about, no i don’t. like, i just want someone to spend my life with, yes, but i think marriage is dumb because it’s just a piece of paper and a ring. i want forever type shit without all the extraness. i don’t feel like marriage defines someones love for you and will to want to spend life with u if that makes any sense idk

21: Would you like to have kids someday? Nope!!

22: How many? 0

23: Do you like shopping? It depends on what for. I could drop all my money shopping for shoes but for clothes shopping makes me feel discouraged and gross lollol

24: What countries have you visited? literally have been in boring usa all my life

25: The scariest nightmare you’ve had? my nightmares are related to trauma so i’m gonna skip this question

26: Do you have any enemies? there’s people who hate me but i’m just minding my business and doing me lolol

27: Do you have a s/o? Nope!! 

28: Do you believe in miracles? I believe in hard work and prayers haha

29. Current favorite song: Crush Culture by Conan Gray :)))) he’s my angel baby love 

30. Favorite food: i love all food tbh there’s not much i won’t eat lmao 

anywhooo!!! i tag anyone who wants to do it. if u want to do it, just tag me and i say i tagged u to do it i don’t want to tag people because i don’t want to bother them but yeah hahahah have fun!!!

[tessatechaitea]

Second Coming #3

If that bug-eyed guy on the cover is named "Preying Mantis" (with an E!), I will be suing.

I realize I didn't review the first two issues of this series but that's because I'd mostly stopped reviewing new comics. Once I began reading mostly new comics that I wanted to read because I liked them, I found I wanted to simply immerse myself in the story and enjoy it without interrupting that enjoyment every half page to spout some invective or spew my opinion about something just tangentially related to what I just read. But recently, I realized that writing commentaries (or reviews (or whatever the fuck it is I'm doing that really just amounts to distracting myself from the notion of mortality)) was more fun if I didn't have to write one hundred and twenty Teen Titans review in a row. So now I'm mixing things up! Let's see if I can find anything critical to say about Mark Russell! I wouldn't place any bets on me losing my shit. You should put all of your money on me fawning on Russell like he's the first girl to ever let me touch their private business through their cotton underwear.

I know Mark Russell isn't the first writer to discuss this because I was.

This morning, I realized I have a big crusty gash in the top of my head because I banged it on the bathroom cabinet while stumbling around in pain, dizzy and nauseated, from passing a kidney stone. So much kidney pain my nerves couldn't appraise me of the gaping head wound. And even though I instantly began to feel better after stumbling out of the bathroom and collapsing into bed, I now must live in fear of that kidney stone pain coming back. At least for as long as the human mind can grapple with that kind of sheer terror before moving on to something else. I guess reading a comic book and trusting that my insides aren't going to suddenly explode is moving on! Jesus continues to ride around on Sunstar's back being a literal angel on his shoulder. Sunstar is all, "I'm going to kick ass for justice!" And Jesus is all, "But is that justice? Really? I mean, really? Justice?" Then Sunstar is all, "What do you mean?" And Jesus is all, "Well, I'm glad you asked! Have I got a parable for you!" And just like every single apostle, Sunstar listens to the parable and then says, "What? Explain better." Then Jesus sighs, drops the parable, and says directly whatever he was trying to say poetically. I mean, Mark Russell does a better job with the dialogue! But if you want Russell's spectacular dialogue and the soft, budding pudenda under fuzzy cotton, you're just going to have to buy this comic book yourself. Take my word for it: it's worth it! But don't think you should stop reading my review now that you got my take on it. There are still some great jokes coming up and probably a moment where I offend all gun owners! Even the ones I'm friends with! One of the great things in the many great things about this comic book is how Mark Russell isn't specifically calling Superman to task for being a blunt instrument against crime. He's throwing shade at all the writers of Superman who haven't had the nerve or wit or understanding of the character to make him the peaceful motherfucker he always should have been. Yeah, sure, occasionally he's going to need to punch a giant alien robot into smithereens so the fans can be all, "Wow! Cool!" But every time he punches Lex Luthor (not in Battle Suit), it's because the writers don't fucking get it. Why would Superman ever have to punch a human?! First of all, whenever he punches any sentient being he's ever just encountered, he has to use the most minimal amount of force he can just to be sure he doesn't knock the creature's head clean off. Which means the fight just drags on forever as he punches a little harder each time until he calibrates just how hard he can punch his opponent without actually making his opponent's head explode. That seems like a huge pain in the ass. Instead, can't he just grab the opponent and fly them to the arctic? He can do that pretty fast. And if the opponent just happens to be too strong to do that? Well, that's the time to start punching super hard! If it's a human opponent, that person is now trapped in the arctic on an ice floe where Superman can just hover over them and scold them while wagging his finger in their face. I just realized Jesus is Mark Russell's Mary Sue in this comic book. Sunstar and his version of Lois head out to look for Grandma Sunstar. She's escaped her retirement community and headed to Littleton. Instead of pretending like things don't really change much like DC would have readers believe, Mark Russell takes the time to comment on urban sprawl by having Littleton subsumed by Urban City. He doesn't even hit anybody over the head with a major rant! He's just all, "Look at this shit! This is why Portland has laws against it! I mean, the laws came too late for a lot of the area. Have you seen how much Portland has sprawled? But at least it's not like the San Francisco Bay Area where you can go from San Francisco to San Jose without ever leaving El Camino's stripmallesque environment while simultaneously driving through like twelve other cities!" Um, once again, that wasn't Russell's actual dialogue! Do I have to keep explaining this? Sometimes I feel like I have to keep explaining myself. Have you seen the idiots who comment on blogs and Twitter reply threads?! No offense, King Beauregard! I always enjoy your comments! Although stating it like that after what I just wrote makes it seem like maybe I'm being sarcastic. But I'm not! I always come off as sarcastic which is why I simply gave up on earnestness and, thus, am always sarcastic. Except that part where I said I enjoy your comments! Sometimes my sincerity comes screaming out of my skull to shout at the world: "I'm a fucking human being! I can feel! I fear! I love! I cherish my time with friends!" But then I bash myself in the head using a bathroom cabinet until the little fucker hides back inside and regrets showing his stupid earnest face. Fucking sincerity. Suck my dick! While Sunstar visits home, Jesus wanders around looking for evidence that people remember him and his message.

That's an outstanding sign!

The new karaoke place has a bunch of Jesus Christ Superstar songs so I will be doing "Heaven on Their Minds" soon. Jesus doesn't get much page time because Mark Russell ditches him to get back to the Sunstar story where he can insult me right to my face.

Does being vulnerable to physical harm count? Because then I'm lovable too! I have the head wound to prove it!

Sunstar gets all nostalgic which is why Fake Lois needs to hold his hand. Because he's being cute and vulnerable and stupid. They roll by Sunstar's old house to see it has become a dildo shop where they sell totally vulnerable, sincere, earnest dildos. Jesus runs into Satan who explains God is going to destroy mankind if anything happens to Jesus on his return visit. Satan then ditches Jesus when some anti-gay Christian protesters approach him. They try to tell him about the word of Paul and Jesus is all, "Don't know the guy." It's pretty good Biblical comedy! Plus Jesus gets his ass stomped and the police pick him up for vagrancy. Exactly what we all know would happen if Jesus came back. Maybe that sentence is in the wrong tense. Let me try again. Exactly what happened when Jesus came back. Because obviously were already in the end times. Second Coming #3 Rating: A+. When this comic book was announced as a Vertigo title, there was a ton of religious pushback. I don't know the whole story because that would require research and how much life do you think I have left? I almost just died falling over because my kidney betrayed me! But the pushback was of the type where religious people here that some secular person is writing a story about Jesus and so it must be fucking blasphemous. And of course it isn't at all. It's treating Jesus more sacredly than most religious idiots treat him. And don't think you secular people are any better! The amount of times I've seen people bitch and moan and attack DC or Marvel simply based on a poorly worded solicit in Previews makes me think all y'all are no better. How about we all stop relying on that one charismatic Tumblr follower whose word is somehow gospel and maybe put in the work to read and experience the actual thing people are so worked up about before totally condemning it? I mean, I'm all for condemning shit! It's a lot of fun! But maybe do the research first! And yes I know how that sounds after claiming I don't do research! Suck it sideways!

[2dudesgethitched]

Spelling Dad from ADD.

  “How do you feel about children?” he asked me on that magical Christmas Eve in 2008. We are at too large of a table for two people on a patio of ribbons, decked halls and twinkle lights. Ooooh, pretty lights sparkle so. We waited for our coffee drinks under trimmed trees, gay apparel donned. The crowd at Aroma Café was heavy with packages, burdens from the shopping that is a draw to the Tujunga Village part of Studio City. I love the idea of a hamlet in the land of hams. I need more irony in my diet. People banged about like cattle down a chute. Calling Temple Grandin.

 My ADD is self-diagnosed and provides me ample amusement; sometimes others get to share in the joy that is my rambling. The stream of consciousness that I surf regularly makes me a fine Improv actor but an ineffective bureaucrat. Years later someone would shout “Squirrel” and I completely understood a cartoon dog’s pov.

 Christ, he just asked me something. Focus, Hubble, focus. If my self-narration annoys feel free to substitute Neil Patrick Harris voice or Sara Jessica Parker’s. My patter might be more palatable. How do I feel about children?

 Michael’s bright blue eyes, red cheeks and pale pallor defined the ‘Richie Cunningham’ description our mutual friend Rob had promised. Ha. Red, white and blue. He’s pretty cute, shivering in his p-coat. The lyrics to “American Boy” popped up. Stifle, silly ADD, stifle. Listen to the cute boy who is saying all the right things. I had arrived early to the date. I had armed myself viewing all the pictures he had posted on his MySpace. He had a butt-load of friends and loved the beach. I knew we had at least that, Tom & Rob as common denominators. He was tall, handsome and quirky. Our previous phone conversation confirmed quirky.

 “Hello, Villa Cosa Nostra, Michael speaking, how may I help you?”

“Is this Michael Vinton?”

“Tis I” Tis I. Tis I? I’m calling a boutique timeshare and got transferred to a Renaissance Faire Restaurant?

“This is Tony Spatafora, Rob Hahn’s friend.” Beat. Beat.

“Oh. Hi..”

“I know you’re at work, is this an okay time to talk?”

“Let me put you on hold for a second? Thanks.” Boom. Gone.

 He is so Googling me now. I think. Or he’s shuttering his work-hag so he can come back to the call a little more centered. I can’t wait to hear what comes back on the line.

 “Heeeeyy, “ a much cooler cat returns. “How ya doing?”

“Fine. “ Eyeroll. Stop Spats, don’t be such an egotistical putz. “Rob Hahn said to give you a call and that we should probably get together.”

“Yeah. He said.” Ice, ice baby. Who sang that, I wondered “So, what’s up….”?

Saints preserve me.

“Listen, I know you’re at work. Why don’t you give me a call when it’s convenient and we can set something up?”

“Cool, man.” Oh, this kid is killing me. Did I mention that my angel is 14 years my junior? Yeah. Apply considerable mockery here, I deserve it.

“I’ll just get your cell, and get back to you.”

“Fine, ” I’m not finished playing with my food, “but let me ask you three things: Dog or cat?”

“Dog.” He’s confident.

“Boston or New York?”

“…New York.” He vacillated.

“And finally, like garlic or love garlic.”

“LOVE garlic.” He wins. I spit game like no other. Who sang that damn song??

“Okay. You may call me back.”

Laughter.

 I thrive on acid tests and omens. I believe The Universe will give you signs when you are falling behind in it’s choreography. You are encouraged to free style only so often. Don’t waste your moment to jump in the abyss. Your pants can only get wet one of two ways when you dance. Go big or go home, I think I’d read that on some ones Friendster. I am so full of myself I should hang Charmin off my belt.

 I had seen him heading to the café from a quaint store in the Village. In fact he had stopped in the window in front of my to check his hair. The afternoon was windy. Norman Rockwell snow falling lightly would have completed the picture. Oh, my. He is a cutie. Those eyes were so blue. I stalked him down the sidewalk praying there would be more preening to mock later to my besty Sue. He walked like a man, firm and grounded while sporting an angel’s face. These omens are good. I couldn’t wait to hear from ‘Tis I’ what made this guy tick.

 Michael turned around in front of Aroma to find me, hot on his heels. He laughed and I gave him the big loving hug I like to share with my nearest and dearest. I wanted to warm his heart on this holiday night before we both had to race back to work. I would learn later that he really welcomed that hug as it was to be his first Christmas away from his wonderful family in Charlotte, NC. He was a little sad and in need of some familiar love. The guy has the big heart of a softie I would learn. Tick tick tick, boom goes the heart.  

 I thought he was shivering. He kept squirming over his shoulder then craning his neck back to me. Does he have a tic? He kept exhaling over his shoulder. I was intrigued; did I step in something while hunting my prey down the mean streets of the San Fernando Valley? He finally calls out the chair dancing he’s doing as being gassy today & also he is from a very gassy family. I got a fuzzy image of the holidays with the family. He was trying to subtly burp. I got that. Cool.

 “How do I feel about children? You mean as a family or laborers in my families sweatshop in New Haven?” More Charmin, senator? Truth was I did want a family. More than anything else I have ever wanted. I wanted to focus all that I am into people who would hopefully, one day, go out and use their powers for good. I have the biological family, the chosen family, the work family, and the Partridge family. I had a lock on “Back-up singers” and caregivers that all had a special place in my heart. I was finally ready at 40 to have a family unit. Children, progeny attendants whatever you want to call them. I was ready to raise.

 I hoped that in raising children, I would raise myself. I had always been a selfish impulsive prick. I could leave disaster in my wake better and brighter then most boobs my age. I’d been there, done that and brought back the t-shirt in two sizes (for my fat + fit days) Glib is an understatement to describe me, Crazed is another. Children would allow me to put all the attention I had put into myself to a positive end. My epic life experiences and families would help lift the children up; it takes a village I have been told.

 I had always seen myself with a large family. That was how we grew up in CT and I wanted to create something similar. Economics and Biology being what it may, it was going to take extra work and love but above all it would take the right mate to accomplish this with. Michael told me he had seen a similar vision but did the typical blanch one does when finding out there might be five more just like me out there in the world. Silly man, he has no idea.

 All of my wonderful family had paired up and reproduced. There are thirteen amazing nephews and nieces with birthdays to remember and events to celebrate. Being as far away as I am in Los Angeles can fray the nerves. The day to day growth of the kids gets away from you when updates aren’t delivered regularly. It is much easier to share around a family dinner table or a get together in state. Time flies and raising kids seemed to occupy and awful lot of it. Notes for later, I would record. I wished for a village that can act locally and think globally I guess.  I have a Village People cd I haven’t played in a while.

 And sometimes it takes a Village Idiot. Burpie and me made nice and I dropped a few more witty pearls of banter. We clicked on many levels. We had both thought we would have been priests, except for that annoying celibacy thing. We loved music. Our families were the most important things in our lives. Our dreams were huge. We wanted to see the world but above all wanted children. Oh, and grandchildren too.

 Well this was going to be tough, being two men and no little lady. We appear to be Biologically Adjacent to speak Angeleno, in the act of conception. There were to be a few extra steps to get our family unit to the amazing holiday card ready cast that my friends had biologically created ad nauseum. We would have to decide about Adoption; Domestic or International? Foster to Adoption; how old the child will we go? Surrogacy; who’s friend to raise a turkey baster to in this above generous gift they were providing? Surrogacy when not related in love or blood; do we find these people on Craigslist, Angie’s List, Facebook? There was to be much to learn but I had a feeling that Michael was the one to make the journey with.

 Real it in Spats, I chanted. Let’s not put the station wagon in front of the horse. If this really was a ‘traditional valued’ gay man I couldn’t rush the situation and would have to let this unfold. Guys like this were few and far between. Chill baby, baby, chill baby baby. Really ADD? Vanilla Ice? I’m hipper than that.

 Actually, I’m not getting any younger as people would tell me and FYI get a move on when they stop telling you this. It might be the Universe giving you a reality check to start listening and fall into line. Tick Tock, Tick Tock goes the biological clock. Wait, what? I was forty but determined. Many great people I knew personally had started their families late in life. I have energy to boot and an inner monologue that wouldn’t shut up. I am going to rock this fatherhood thing into the next stage of my life and hum show tunes for lullabies.

 I held his hand as we walked out of the café. It was in part a thank you for sharing so much of his sweet soul as he had his time on a crazy Christmas Eve. His eyes are illuminating. There was a sense of promise in one so gassy. I saw a fuzzy family unit off in the future, a pin prick of light, each day growing closer and larger. It came into frame and I saw the tall person in the image was wearing a p-coat and an enormous, toothy smile.

 OH, SNAP! It wasn’t Vanilla Ice, it was C & C Music Factory. Mmmmm. Things that make you go Mmm mmm mmm mmm mmm.  I am too old for ‘oh, snap’ I remind myself. Yet I’m not too old to learn. Papa, Dad, Daddy; I like it. I wonder what I’ll be when I grow up.

 Cue the music.

[indis-vines]

I'LL FIND A NEW PLACE TO BE FROM

A HAUNTED HOUSE‼️WITH A PICKET(T) FENCE‼️

TO FLOAT AROUND AND GHOST MY FRIENDS