#but he knows he can’t

[lickmycoffeecup]

Uh. Yeah.

“John,” Arthur sighs.

Arthur’s head falls gently back against the wall. His head turning to allow better access. John hums, smiling against his neck. He continues to kiss, grazing his teeth over sensitive skin. His lips brushing the scar across Arthur’s neck. Arthur’s breath hitches in his chest. John’s breath huffs hot, and fast against just under Arthur’s jaw. His arm snakes around Arthur’s lower back, pulling his closer. Pushing his thigh between Arthur’s legs.

John’s lips move higher. Arthur’s breath shivers as they shift against one another. So close, and still not close enough. Arthur’s nails dig into John’s neck with one hand, while the other makes lines down John’s back. Both wished his shirt wasn’t in the way. John’s free hand slips under the hem of Arthur’s shirt, just above his belt, and Arthur can’t stop his hips from moving. Chasing John’s pressure against him.

“Turn around,” John growls.

Arthur can’t stop his breath from coming out in short pants. This is one of the few times Arthur relishes being told what to do. The ambiguous sense of control, Arthur at his most vulnerable, making his heart beat with excitement, instead of panic. John nuzzles into his neck, briefly. Just a small beat of making sure his command was what Arthur wanted. Arthur nodded, fast little movements that sends a flutter of heat into both their bellies.

The loss of pressure as they disentangle themselves enough for Arthur to do as he was told, makes Arthur whimper. Low in his chest, just the smallest whine. Making John fight pushing him back against the wall. The chill on Arthur’s neck gives him goosebumps. Everywhere feels too hot, too tight, and too far from John. But it doesn’t last long.

Arthur twists, turning his back to John. Placing his hands firmly on the wall. Planting his feet. His palms barely find firm ground, and large warm hands are on his hips. A broad, warm chest is pressed into his back. The return of lips, and a hot breath on his neck, as John’s whole body is pushed against him. Arthur can’t help the smile edging at his lips, he sighs as John’s broad frame envelops him again.

John’s hips roll against him. Arthur tries to push back into him, but John’s hands remain firm at his hips.

“So eager,” John murmurs against Arthur’s torn ear.

“Ass,” Arthur hisses.

“Such a mouth,” John smiles.

Arthur gasps as teeth sink into his neck. He braces himself against the wall. Fresh waves of heat radiate out from the bite. Arthur’s thighs shiver, and his legs seem to spread against his will as John pulls Arthur’s hips back against him. Giving Arthur exactly what he wanted. Arthur’s eyes close slowly as the warmth from the pain settles in his crotch. Wetness staining his pants. His breathing is heavy, shuddering in his chest. He reaches back, and runs fingers through John’s hair, as John releases his neck. Kissing the bite, leaving behind slightly pink, bloody lip stains.

“Arthur,” John breathed.

Peppering the swollen mark with sweet nothings. His fingers pushed against Arthur’s stomach. Inching slowly down, under the waistband of Arthur’s pants. Arthur is smiling, so content, as the hand creeps further down. His eyelids flutter.

“Parker,” Arthur sighs.

All at once, they’re both frozen.

Everything stops.

John pulls away with a harshness that makes both of them sting in the most sensitive areas. Stepping back. John is breathing hard for all the wrong reasons.

Arthur whips around. Strands of short dirty blond hair whip out, and cling to his forehead. His hand is covering his mouth. Eyes wet with the start of tears. No longer warm, and content. Everything feels cold. He stares blindly in John’s general direction.

“I—-,” Arthur can barely manage.

“I’m sorry,” there’s barely any sound to his voice, as his hand hovers just over his mouth.

Before John can say anything, Arthur is moving to his room. Heavy, quick steps on the hardwood floor. He runs into a table in his haste. The lamp sitting on the table starts spinning, and barely stays upright with the momentum as he makes it to his room. He grabs his door, and flings it shut, but it hits wrong on the frame with a heavy smack, and bounces slowly back open. The sound of wood rattling fades quickly.

John stands at the far end of the room. Breathing heavy as the light wobbles over him, and the walls. Finally the lamp comes to a rest, settling nearly at the edge of it’s table.

He tries to settle his breathing, his heart pounding in his ears.

Everything is silent.

Except for the soft sound of sobs coming from Arthur’s room.

John isn’t sure how long he stands there. His body feels chilled, and numb. The slow fading of his excitement just leaving him shaky, and covered in a cold sweat. His feet start to hurt as he remains rooted in his spot.

Arthur’s room is silent, and dark.

Finally, John lets out a shaky breath he didn’t realize he had been holding for far too long.

The motion, the deep exhale, and slow inhale, finally breaks John of his stupor. His eyes focus on Arthur’s darkened doorway. He takes slow, careful steps across the room. Trying to be quiet, but the creak of hardwood boards betrayed his every foot fall. He stops at the table, looking down at the lamp. He reaches down, straightening the table. Correcting what had been tipped out of balance as he pushes the lamp back to the center of the table’s flat surface. He reaches under the shade, and pulls on the metal beaded chain. The lamp turns off with a solid click.

John feels bolder in the dark. Less pressure to be quiet, and he takes the final few steps to enter Arthur’s room.

His eyes adjust slowly.

Soft blue light spills in from the windows. In the far corner of the room, the reflection on the floor helps highlight the shape of a person. But Arthur is still in the shadows. Sat on the floor, his knees pulled up to the chest. His head is down. He makes no movement, or registers that he knows John is in the room.

John walks over to him. Unsure of what he’s even doing. What he hopes to accomplish by closing the distance between them so soon. He stops a few steps from Arthur. Who still doesn’t move.

He leans down, and reaches out, but stops. Finger tips maybe an inch from Arthur’s hair. John pulls his hand away slowly.

With a sigh, John turns, and pushes his back against the wall. He sinks down onto the floor next to the Arthur. He stretches his feet out into the light coming from the window. Feeling like he made a mistake coming in here. But it felt just as wrong to be so far apart. John couldn’t stand the idea of still standing there, staring into Arthur’s room. Or even worse, retreating to his own room.

Their shoulders were only a few inches from touching.

But John didn’t want to make this worse.

It was bad enough it had all been doomed from the start.

John sighs, low, and deep, he really meant it as he said a low, “I’m sorry.”

The seconds turn into a minute. Then more seconds turn into more minutes.

John nearly jumps when suddenly Arthur shifts. Moving to drop his head onto John’s shoulder.

He makes no move to touch Arthur any further. He stays perfectly still.

“Me too,” Arthur whispers softly.

After another minute, John slowly lowers his head. Resting it lightly against Arthur’s.

They don’t speak the rest of the night. They stay there, long after their position grows uncomfortable. And even longer after limbs go numb. Eventually they move closer. Wrapping their arms around one another. Lacing fingers together. Letting the silence speak for them.

They had come so far. Worked so hard to get here.

But there was the ever present feeling they always had more work to do.

[crepusculum-rattus]

op. i can't stop thinking about phil & ender being friends now op. what have you done to me. i feel possessed

teehee oops ^_^

anyway now imagine phil catching on to the fact that ender has been stealing land and other treasures right out from under people’s (and other deities’) feet, and that little “models” in his keep are the real thing only shrunken down to fit inside. and phil remembers how impressed he was by the sight of them, and it disgusts him now to know he’s been watching ender slowly steal the world away one chunk at a time and done Nothing to stop it

[doctorsiren]

More on that AU where Ford takes Stanley with him to Gravity Falls…I realized they’re kind of like the Winchesters if one of the Winchesters was autistic about cryptids

[woodsteingirl]

starting a collection. pierre talking to natasha in war and peace

[wanologic]

sorry danny, sam will never think you’re cool

[watmalik]

HE’S A GREAT WHAT—?

[seren-dipitous-art]

I’ve been obsessed with the Olympics for the past week, and obsessed with Dick Grayson for longer, so here’s the crossover we all deserve.

Plus, gorgeous sweaty acrobat in gymnastics poses? Only positives.

[oaxleaf]

love myself a cockroach of a character. i look at them and go ”how is that fucker not dead? they should be dead. they should be dead ten times over. how are they not?” and 90% of the time the answer is a combo of sheer stubborness and homosexuality

[heavenbarnes]

hmm thinking about older bf!simon who hasn’t really got his head around the whole sexting thing- the man had a flip phone before he met you.

he had, however, reluctantly gone out and got an android after a harmless conversation between the two of you.

“how am i meant to send you videos while you’re away if you have a flip phone, si?”

“videos of what?”

“guess.”

he virtually only uses the thing to get texts, calls, and videos of you fucking yourself in your shared bed whilst he’s deployed. he saves every video, which is a risky manoeuvre considering you haven’t taught him how to set a passcode yet (johnny catches a not-unwelcome eyeful when he goes looking for the directions he sent simon earlier)

older bf!simon is also a fantastic listener, when you tell him you want him to send pics but not ones that make his cock look like a dead fish. you give him strict instructions:

put your phone on self-timer, sit back, thighs spread, one hand around your cock, the other behind your head, you choose if your face is in it xox

man loves an order.

so whilst he’s away, you’re in the kitchen cooking up dinner-for-one and your phone buzzes on the counter- you drop the fucking pasta strainer straight on the floor when you unlock your phone.

simon’s face wasn’t necessarily in the photo, more so his mask. he was fully dressed, tactical gear (down to the vest) still on with a rifle leaning against his thigh. he was in the exact position you’d request, gloved fingers wrapped around the base of him with his other bicep firm behind his head.

you’re so busy saving the photo and staring back at it 100,000 times that you forget to respond. honestly, you forget how to function as your mouth goes dry and your eyes are unable to look at anything else.

simon hesitates on the other end, wondering if he’d fucked up- if he hadn’t followed the brief, if he’d embarrassed himself. thankfully, he knows he only has to ask.

“that what you were after, pet?”

the trepidation in his chest is replaced with a rapidly inflating ego.

“jesus christ, that’s exactly what i needed”

swapped out with slight confusion, but the ever present willingness to learn.

“you ever heard of a nut video with sound on?”

pt2

[cas-dyke]

remember when castiel made a death deal that hinged on him experiencing true happiness and he was like “they don’t know i know this hack: that will never happen”

[chloesimaginationthings]

How did Bonnie get so fucking tall in FNAF 2…

[shepscapades]

Revenge :3 In which Season 10 (dbhc) Bdubs gets a new fit and one person is decidedly Not Very Normal about it + the original concept sketch :]

(Referencing this post!)

[breesperez139]

Dc x Dp Prompt #6

“I’m a twin”, Damian said one night. He could feel the narrowed eyes of his family drilling holes on his back in disbelief. Not that he could blame them. Damian had never so much as implied being raised with a companion, much less a sibling.

“I had a brother”. Damian paused to recollect himself. He had not said his brother’s name out loud in over 8 years.

“His name was… Danyal”. Damian hated the way his voice wavered, but he could not help it. Danyal was everything to him, his other half. Their heart beat as one and when one heart stopped beating, the other one died with it. At least until his family put his heart on metaphorical life support without ever realizing.

“Where is he now?” His father asked, voice filled with knowing grief and a hint of betrayal. It had in fact been 6 years since Damian first showed up on his doorstep.

“Up there”. All eyes shifted towards the specific star he was pointing to. “Right before he died, he promised me he’d guide me from the stars. Unfortunately, the stars are not visible in Gotham, so my brother is unable to be of much help unless I leave the city.”

“Your brother is Polaris, the North Star?” Tim questioned warily, most likely in attempts to not offend him. Damian was aware of how stupid it sounded, but Danyal had promised, and his brother never broke his promises.

“Yes. Danyal is with the stars now, just as he always wanted”

[hamable]

I’m thinking about Mahito’s great great uncle maintaining and preserving a peaceful and beautiful thing in a way that to an outside observer looks tedious and unimportant, hoping to pass the duty off to a successor but ultimately he cannot find one and dies with it.

I’m thinking about the specificity of the blocks being made and handled with care, not with malice or ill intent.

I’m thinking about Hayao Miyazaki, a bastion of beautiful 2d hand drawn animation who refuses to retire.

I’m thinking about a world where animation is so rarely made with love over profit and efficiency.

I’m thinking about how, though the old man didn’t see it, the next generation still hangs onto a piece of that beautiful, tedious thing and takes it with them because it feels important.

I’m thinking about Mahito being told he should forget, but no. He shouldn’t.

[softer-ua]

So I’ve been joking for a while about how Inko manages to afford all of Izuku’s AM merch

But I decided to nerd out and look closer, and I’m pretty sure the only expensive piece Izuku owns is the poster he got from Sir

You might think his dorm looks absolutely stacked

but that’s only because it’s a very small room and he brought every piece he owns

If you look in his old room it’s all the same posters

so he’s owned it all for at least a few years, he’s been working up to this for god knows how many years, just to be the proud owner of 5 posters so basic even he would put tape on them

All of his figures are less than 50$

One of which he’s had since he was a child

And it doesn’t look like the other unidentified figures are anything special either(except maybe AM in his yellow suit)

Izuku only has generic fanboy shit, like maybe one of the posters is a custom but I honestly I don’t think he owns a single special anything

The dead guy poster is 100% the coolest thing he has, no wonder he’s so reverent about it 💀

As for fits this is all we’ve really seen is

So yeah Inko isn’t dropping stacks on merch, I’m pretty sure those sweaters were a 2 for 1 deal because they’re almost identical 💀

[artsymeeshee]