#goddammit I should’ve fucking known

[ficandkaboodle]

He’s just knocking there . . .

EMBARRASSINGLY!!!

He’s just standing there . . .

MENACINGLY!!!

[togekissesofgrace]

I Would Like For Things To Stop Happening For A Single Fucking Second.

[joshym]

Le Morte d'Arthur: Chapter 6 (teaser)

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here it is, folks. the long-awaited perspective from Jake. this will give us a few hints as to where his head has been since this story began. it's only a glimpse of what's to come, but i hope you enjoy. ♡

*recollection of sexual encounters, jealousy, hurt feelings, brief mention of disordered eating

“I assumed she’d be like every other girl I’d known, but the moment I held her for the first time, I realized just how profoundly wrong I was. From the first touch, the first taste..."

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Jake’s point of view;

I waited far too long. 

I had every intention of telling her—the plan was already in place. 

All I needed was to wait for the perfect moment to ask her to come with me. I knew she wouldn’t say yes right away, so I had to take the time to craft the right words, to convey the way her very essence softened my hardened heart. 

Goddammit. This wasn’t supposed to happen. None of what has transpired with her over the last few months was meant to happen. 

But fate would have it otherwise. And I knew mine was sealed when she chose the seat next to mine on the first day of class. I thought I’d never have to see her bewitching face again after I so callously bumped into her in the hallway. But when that very same, beautiful stranger walked in late through the doors of Movack’s lecture hall, I knew I had to take every measure possible to fend off any infatuations that I felt could arise. 

But, as though it were predestined, we were paired on a project she was just as passionate about — if not more — than I was. 

I suppose I thought the film would be the best way to keep my distance from her while also keeping true to our commitments to the project. I surmised the addition of my family would keep us from having to be alone, having any real conversations to get to know one another. 

I didn’t want to get to know her. Not because of her, because of me. I gathered immediately that she was far too wonderful for the likes of me, far too easy to fall for. Her beauty and complexity, the most exquisite and intrusive storm to my hardened heart. 

She truly was too good for me…still is; utter perfection encompassed in the ethos of her femininity. 

That fact was all but confirmed on that first day of class. When she checked my ego over a question I should’ve known the answer to, I knew I was utterly fucked. Intelligent, full of the wit necessary to challenge me. I was a fucking dick to her from the outset. But I had to keep my own feelings in balance. 

Jesus — who the fuck am I kidding? 

I didn’t ask her to help with the film to keep her away — I wanted her to play opposite me. I wanted her to play my fucking wife. I wanted the chance to act on the feelings that were already amassed, without the risk of her thinking they were anything more than for the sake of the film.

But Josh fucked it all up for me. The script wasn’t what we agreed on, no matter how much he’s fought me on that fact. His idea to shift the focus on infidelity, specifically her infidelity with fucking Lancelot was unadulterated bullshit. And when I had to watch her share so many scenes with Sam, scenes that should’ve been with me, the fire it ignited under my crawling skin told me that my attempts at keeping my composure about her were failing. Miserably failing. 

Stacy was my escape. She had wanted me for years, and I knew she would be the perfect distraction from my growing feelings for Y/n — and from the agony of watching my brother touch her in ways I could only dream of.

But, fate wouldn’t hear of it. It didn’t fucking work. Stacy doesn’t hold a candle to Y/n; she’s nothing more than a flicker next to Y/n’s radiance. Wasting my energy with someone as dull-witted and mindless as Stacy only made me yearn for Y/n all the more. 

Y/n’s mystique, her grace, the very aura she strides with…she’s the most captivating woman I’ve ever set my eyes upon. It took only a few weeks to memorize every minute detail of her face. Her sweet nose that crinkles when she laughs, her glittering eyes that hold the weight of a thousand beautiful lifetimes, her eyelashes that are as dark and full as a ravens wings, her crooked smile, succulent lips…she’s more elegant than any painting the most adept artist could ever render. As though her outward beauty wasn’t enough to lure me in, her endearing accent, the one that instantly told me she was miles away from her birthplace, charmed me even further. 

I hadn’t found a single reason to stay here, a reason that made London feel like a poor decision until she infiltrated my existence, when her earthy, vanilla aroma inundated me with lust and desire. 

And though she tried to hide it, I could tell she was looking at me with the very same eyes I saw her through. 

The only thing I could do at that point was push her away, and keep pushing her until she despised her every thought of me. I couldn’t risk what I was afraid it could turn into. 

It felt like knives tore through the inside of my throat when I said some of the most revolting words I could think of to her in class. I felt like the biggest piece of shit when her incredible eyes became glassed over with tears, when her round, rose lips downturned at what I had said…and I didn’t mean any of it. Not a single word of it. She didn’t deserve to hear such horrid things. 

I fucking hurt her. And that was what my thoughtless self wanted. 

I wanted it so I wouldn’t get attached, so she wouldn’t get attached. I’ve needed to get out of this fucking city — this goddamn country — since nearly every person I’ve ever loved died in the places I’ve called home. Other than my brothers, there’s been nothing to keep me here after my time at the U of M is up. And I swore there’d be no way in fucking hell I’d let some girl change that. 

But what my imprudent ass couldn’t accept was that Y/n has never been just some girl. I’ve always known it, and I’ve been utterly terrified by it since I let myself watch her — observe her. All it took was one class period for the horror to sink in that she is different from any other woman I’ve ever beheld. She even surmounts every woman in fucking literature. 

She’s magic.

And she’s broken me. She’s torn down every wall I’ve built since the death of my parents, then proceeded to destroy the ones that came up after I lost my grandparents. No one that isn’t my own twin brother has been able to see me the way she does. 

I mean, Christ, I played guitar for her. Only her. I practically gave her my vulnerability, placed it in the palm of her open hand and closed her delicate fingers over it. I’ve shown her parts of myself, piece by tiny fucking piece, that a mere handful of people have borne witness to. 

I assumed she’d be like every other girl I’d known, but the moment I held her for the first time, I realized just how profoundly wrong I was. From the first touch, the first taste, the first time I fucked her... 

I can’t explain what she does to me, or how she does it. But she brings forth an animalistic side of myself, engulfed with pure desire for everything that she is. 

I knew she was beautiful from the moment I laid my eyes on her, but when I discovered what she was hiding beneath her oversized attire, I felt longing anew. It was a cruel irony for Josh to make my room her dressing quarters. If I knew my brother at all — which I do, better than anyone — the little shit did that on purpose. 

He knew of the risks. I knew them — what might happen if I were to open my bedroom door. And it did happen — the day she was trying on her costumes, and though I knew what I’d possibly be walking in on… I wasn’t the least bit prepared for the sight my eyes would behold. 

As if Josh hadn’t fucked me over enough with the entire ordeal, Malachi added to my misery by choosing costumes for her that only served to enhance her allure that already held me captive. 

That black lace number she was in when I opened my door left my knees weak — my face, numb. I could see every outline of her form, every beautiful part of herself that she’d hidden in my short time of knowing her. The buds of her perfectly shaped breasts were peeking through the embroidered netting, the curve of her exquisite ass was just visible beyond the exaggerated slit of the gown. And her skin, glowing in the dim light, freckled and pristine. 

I stood completely still — in awe of her. I wanted to fall to her feet at that very moment, and I suppose I would’ve if it wasn’t for Natalia. I knew it was wrong to stare at her, but no living mortal would’ve been able to avert their eyes from such an ethereal vision. 

How fitting that she wore that very gown when I at last got to feel her, glide my tongue over every goddamn inch of her sweet skin, mark her so my brother knew who she really wanted…

I’ll surely never forget the way she melted under my touch that night, the way her skin became littered with goosebumps in the wake of my fingers. And when I discovered her little secret, the sexy scarlet colored ink beneath her breast, it left me stunned at first. Yet somehow, it didn't entirely surprise me. It suits her enchantment, her mystery. And it’s enormously tantalizing. 

I simply became intoxicated by her. I needed more, and my futile attempts at withholding my true desires, of delving headfirst into something I knew I’d never be capable of coming back from, would inevitably fail. 

Fuck. She made it so difficult. And it didn’t help when I realized how badly she needed it as well. How could I continue to deny her any further when I myself could no longer resist what we both wanted? 

I chose to tread slowly, to take the time to learn her body and the ways in which she longs to be pleasured. I knew she was losing patience with me, but I had to wait until the perfect occasion. 

I nearly gave in the night she wrapped her gorgeous, velvet mouth around my cock as I drove. I discovered the limitless desires she had been harboring, giving me all she had, keeping her promise of taking care of herself to the thought of me. 

The birthday party felt like the opportune time to at last allow ourselves a true taste of one another, but when I discovered her little lie about the tattoo, my adoration for her burst out of my body like ten foot waves slamming against the oceanside. 

I was angry. But more than that, more than anything, I just wanted her. And I didn’t want to give her a single reason more that she should find herself choosing the affections of Sam over me. 

Fucking her for the first time… nothing in the world could come remotely close to the feeling. And when she’d told me she wished I’d do it — wished I’d fuck her — my heart had catapulted to a place it had never ventured before. Knowing she wanted it so badly… there had been no stopping that shit.

The feeling of her body… No other woman could ever compare — will ever compare. No matter where I venture in the world, there will never be another like her. She's the everlasting dream. My dream. 

Every curve of her body — each time her gorgeous cunt would clench around my dick, her falling apart so gloriously at my touch… I found myself transcending space and time as I knew it.

That night was the one of the most glorious experiences I’ve yet to share with another living being, second only to last night. 

And when I had her in the library…

Jesus Christ. I just need her. In every way that I possibly can. 

And I hate how much I fucking need her. This is a new realm for me. I’ve always been my own unit, seeking the company of others only when it felt necessary. I’ve never known someone who could turn my lonely world upside down and inside out in the ways she has. 

But it wasn’t until Natalia confirmed my fears that Y/n hadn’t been taking proper care of herself that I truly realized the possible breadth of my care for her. Something wholly new to me.

I felt the longing threads of my heart rip to tattered shreds. How could a woman of her magnitudinous beauty be so blind to it? How could she ever doubt the effect she has on unsuspecting souls by simply gracing a room with her charm? It shattered me inexplicably when I learned of the way she views herself. And that—that  was when I truly realized the depths of my affections for her. 

God, the depths… deeper than the vast expanse of the ocean. 

I then sought out ways in which to help her, and the one thing I was certain would bring her peace was having her lend me a hand in preparing a home cooked meal. I had to suppress the rising flood of tears when I watched her eat it, seeming to have no more doubts in her mind as she did so. I saw the very same thing at The Whitney; Not a single burden behind her eyes as she nurtured her beautiful body. 

God. She’s evoked feelings from me that I never thought could be mine to feel.

But I just can’t stay here. I can’t bear it any longer, and she has to understand that. It’s what she did herself when she chose to move here, to say a final farewell to the town that bore her own pain. 

It isn’t her damn job to have to carry my pain, though. By every measure, I’m a failure. In the truest sense of the word. 

I fell for her when I swore to myself I wouldn’t allow for it. I’ve hurt her repeatedly with my pure bullshit. The worthless tries at denying my heart.

And I’ve hurt her yet again by dragging my feet, letting her find out in the most careless of ways by leaving the evidence in her fucking book. And in turn, I’ve hurt my own goddamn self. 

God knows how hard I tried to talk to her this morning, but she had already decided to hell with me. I can’t reproach her for it. I just wish she’d listen to me, I need her to hear me. There’s no reason she wouldn’t be accepted to Oxford. Fuck — her mind, so wondrous and brilliant. I want her there with me. I’ve suddenly found myself unable to take this trek across the sea without her. But I fear my time to present that to her is nearly up. 

And it’s all my fault. Every bit of it. 

But this morning…she chose to twist the metaphoric dagger in my already bleeding chest.

She went to Sam. Immediately chose him, as though no second thought was needed. As soon as I’d betrayed her trust, she’d gone to Sam. She could’ve at least asked Josh to take her home, though her and I both knew that Sam was the more obvious choice. The choice she knew would hurt me just as much as I had hurt her. 

But what she doesn’t know is how much I’m already fucking hurting. By my own hand, no less. I never intended for this, and yet, here I am, feeling things I’ve yet to allow myself to feel over a woman, a woman that walked into my life only months ago. 

And now, thanks to me, she’s held in the arms of my younger brother, shedding her tears into his chest right outside of my bedroom window. 

Is she wearing his fucking slippers? Jesus Christ. 

I could wring his goddamn neck for this. It’s not his fucking place. His bed wasn’t where she laid last night. His body wasn’t the one taking care of hers. 

Though, I suppose I can’t fault him — I wouldn’t be able to gather the strength to turn her away, either. Not ever again, if the truth should be told. 

I just…I’ve wanted so much more with her than this. So much more. But I must now accept the chance that I’ve fucked it all up. Perhaps I fucked it up from the very start; The fact that she ever wanted anything to do with me after the way I treated her is a remarkable wonder. 

My nerves are engulfed in flames as I have to witness her getting into Sam’s car now. Him, shutting the door behind her, racing around to the driver's side so she’s not alone for too long, wiping the last of her tears with the cuff of her sleeve. 

Tears that I fucking caused.

I’ve been through immense pain in my life, the kind of pain that feels like shards of glass slicing at my skin at the reminder. But this kind of pain, watching him drive her away because she couldn’t bear the thought of me doing it, it’s brand new to me.

I’m crossing over into untouched realms of misery, of torment. 

I can’t let things with her end in this way. I won’t stand for it. As much as I wasn’t prepared for this to begin with her in the way it did, I’m not equipped to accept it ending like this. 

I cannot leave for London knowing I was never given the chance to properly fight for her.  

But if she won’t listen to me, I fear the choice will no longer be mine to make.

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a/n: do we think he'll be able to talk her into going with him? or, do we think she'll to stay for other reasons? & what do we think will happen with Sam? 🫣

the rest of the chapter will be yours very soon. 🤍

as always, i owe a massive thank you to @jakeyt for being my favorite editor, second set of eyes, & the best advice/idea giver. love you so so so much.

Le Morte d’Arthur Masterlist

taglist:

@jakeyt @alwaysonthemend @sacredjake @jakesgrapejuice @misshunnybee @reesetrippingthelight @way-to-go-lad @sinarainbows @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @klarxtr @watchingover-hypegirl @brinlygvf @stardustjake @gretavanbear @gvfmelborne @devilat-thedoor @literal-dead-leaf @gvf-ficreads @jaaakeeey @capturethechaos @neptune2324 @jaketlove @thetroublegetssoloud71 @myleftsock @sanguinebats @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface @joshskittytickler @violet-hayes @aflameforgoinghome @heckingfrick @fitalich @starshine-gvf @audgeppp @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @ninas-tearsofrain @torniturntomyarrow @beautifulcrayola @writingcold @welllauragvf @loveisonaroll @itsafullmoon @gretasfallingsky @i-love-gvf @kiszkas-canvas @mackalah @gvfmarge @jordie-gvf @gretavansara @highway-tuna @vikingsisthenewsexy @louiseecraig @hippievanfleet @citylight-delight @blacksoul27

[much-obliged-timothy]

Whumptober #6

Day 6 - Devil May Cry - "It's not my blood"

*

Vergil disliked staying at the boy’s home. Kyrie’s cheerful yet firm disposition, the children running around, and Nero’s skills being put to housework instead of fighting all made him uncomfortable.

But Kyrie had brought the children with her on a brief trip out of Fortuna. They’d only be gone two days, perhaps three if Vergil got lucky. It meant Nero was still around, but he felt slightly less miserable when that was the case.

Now, he lounged on Nero’s couch, flipping through a book of poetry Nero had tossed at him none too gently the night before, claiming he’d found it at a used book sale and picked it up on a whim. Vergil had, begrudgingly, marked a few pages so far as he discovered new works he enjoyed. No need for Nero to know that.

As if his thoughts had summoned the bastard, the front door opened. Vergil did not bother looking up from the book at the sound of Nero’s footsteps coming into the house.

“Any word on Kyrie’s return?” he asked, hoping to flee the house before it was filled with children once more. 

Normally, Nero loved to talk about Kyrie. So, at his silence to the question, Vergil finally looked up.

Nero was staring blankly at the blood coating his hands, stained on his shirt and pants as well. Some had even begun to dry in his hair and on his skin. 

“Nero,” Vergil said sharply, setting the book aside. He got up and shook Nero’s shoulder roughly when Nero still didn’t respond. “Nero, what happened? Where are you injured?”

Nero kept staring down at his hands. Quietly, numbly, he replied, “It’s not my blood.”

It should’ve eased Vergil’s tension, but it had the opposite effect. He kept his hand firmly gripping Nero’s shoulder, suddenly having the crazy idea that it was the only thing anchoring the boy in reality.

“Whose blood is it?” he asked, keeping his voice level. 

Nero’s bloodied hands began to tremble badly. “She was playing in the forest. Not very far in, but far enough. Her parents begged me to help find her. I…I was too late.” He clenched his hands into fists, agony in his eyes. “A demon tore her up. She was six years old. I was holding her when she died. I was too fucking late!”

He jerked out of Vergil’s grasp and began to angrily beat his fists into the couch behind them, like destruction would bring the child back. “Too fucking late! Goddammit!”

Vergil watched him. He looked at the child’s blood clinging to Nero. He pictured a small Nero, walking these very streets, playing in that very forest, as helpless as Vergil had been as a child. 

Innocent. Too innocent to see it coming. 

Helpless. Defenseless. Dead.

Nero had grown up in a town with demons lurking at its edges, slipping past its defenses to claim victims from time to town. And he’d had no one to protect him. That he’d survived his childhood meant he was just one of the lucky ones of Fortuna. 

Had he been caught by a demon, had he cried out for help, none would have come. No mother or father to his rescue. 

Vergil shook these thoughts from his head violently. Nero had survived, and regardless, Vergil hadn’t known of his existence until recently. He couldn’t be blamed for that, surely. 

But he knew now. Nero was suffering before his very eyes, and he did not know what to do to stop the pain.

Nero had stopped swearing and was instead just crying out in anger and grief as he beat his fists into the couch over and over again, leaving bloody smears on the fabric that only seemed to fuel his desperate rage.

Vergil caught his wrist as he went to deliver another strike. When Nero tried to yank free, Vergil held tightly.

“Come,” he said. “Let’s spar outside.”

Nero was breathing heavily. He looked down at where Vergil held his wrist, then up into Vergil’s eyes. Vergil had no idea what Nero saw there, but he nodded and obediently followed Vergil outside.

They began to spar, Vergil allowing Nero to go all out on him, unsure how else to allow Nero to release all the feelings burning him up from inside. The blood was still on him, but his failure to wash it off seemed more a punishment than an oversight. 

He was hurting so badly. And even though Vergil was finally here, all he could do was block Nero’s blows and keep him occupied with a way to let his anger out, feeling useless and angry himself about it.

The world was such a cruel place. Vergil only wished Nero had been spared the truth.

[save-the-villainous-cat]

Im a sucker for married couples. What about a stoic, grumpy, gentle hero with a bubbly, emotional villain, and them having an argument?

Just a whole bunch fluff honestly.

“Look, it’s not that bad.”

“Not that bad? Not that bad?” The hero was usually the most self-controlled person the villain knew. They were calm, sometimes a bit cranky or seemingly unemotional but overall caring and often incredibly adorable (even though they didn’t want to hear that).

Right now, however, they almost seemed to burst. The villain knew they were more angry at themselves than at them.

“I can wash the bedding next time, my love. It’s really not that big of a deal,” the villain tried but they already knew the hero didn’t want to hear any of that.

“Sweetheart. You bled through the whole bedding. You’re insane if you think I’ll let you do any kind of chore for the next month,” the hero said. They pressed their lover back into the bed which they’d previously made and sat on their hips, pushing them into the soft clean sheets. They pulled up the villain’s shirt to look at their stitches. For a moment, they seemed much too sad.

“Darling, it’s okay. Really,” the villain whispered.

“I could’ve made it cleaner,” their spouse said. “I’ll be more focused next time, I’m sorry.”

The villain grabbed their wrist and squeezed it.

“It’s a perfect stitch, darling. I should’ve told you that I was injured.”

“It’s gonna leave a scar.”

“That’s what stab wounds do.”

They stared at each other for a long long time and the villain felt so bad for not telling the hero. They were a team, goddammit.

The hero’s gaze jumped back to the wound.

“I’m gonna get you one of those big band aids that you don’t like.” They stood up, still resigned, and the villain could feel how the mattress was moving up. They absolutely hated that feeling. It always meant the hero was leaving. For patrol, for work, even leaving to go into the next room felt horrible.

Their entire life, the villain had been alone. No one had cared for their well-being nor their interests. But the hero did, surprisingly so. When they had confessed their feelings, the villain had thought it to be a joke. But it was quite true.

“Are you mad at me?” the villain asked before the hero could reach the door. “I know communication is hard for you and that’s okay but if you’re angry with me, please let me know. You can text me if that’s easier than speaking.”

The hero froze, their back still turned to the villain. It took an eternity for them to turn around.

“My love, I am not mad at you. Fuck, did I make you think I am...?” They frowned, pursing their lips, staring at their feet. “Shit, I was too harsh, you’re right.”

Their eyes found the villain’s again.

“I’m sorry, baby. I’m not mad at you, I am worried about you. I feel bad for not noticing sooner. You didn’t want to cuddle yesterday, I should’ve known that something was up from that moment.”

“Seriously, I am the one who’s to blame. I didn’t want to bother or upset you. I know you well enough, I know you’re not thinking like that. I am sorry.” And then, the hero smiled softly. It was something that didn’t occurr often. It was a sad smile.

They walked over to their spouse and the villain felt the imminent relief as their hands found theirs.

“I love you so much, you know? And I’m sorry I didn’t communicate. Sometimes, the past just...” They didn’t dare speak more, too caught up in their own whirl of thoughts.

“I will never hit you for telling me how you feel,” the villain said softly. “We’re healing together, remember? I am not them. You’re okay. We are okay. I’ll be more careful next time so the situation doesn’t escalate, alright?”

They cupped the hero’s face gently.

“I’ll try to talk more,” the hero said, tears in their eyes.

“I’ll try to be less self-destructive,” the villain said, lump in their throat.

Interestingly enough, their promises made the world a better place.

[evadethevoid]

We Are Watching a Genocide on Social Media & We Are Scrolling On BY ELENA M. I. DURAN

23 OCT 2023

I saw a dead baby today

While I was sitting on the toilet

When a colleague sees me later and asks how I am

I’ll tell her fine, and I’ll smile.

I saw a dead baby today I saw a dead baby today I saw a dead baby today

The words scratch across the backs of my teeth and pinch at the flesh behind my eyes, emblazoned to my tongue and my mind

“I saw a dead baby today.”

I’ll have to say it out loud, for fear that if I don’t, he’ll be buried inside me forever.

“What?” she’ll ask

“A baby,” I’ll say, “A dead one. I saw him while I was peeing…

He was so, so tiny, and not just because he was a baby, but because he was on my tiny screen

He had ten tiny fingers and ten tiny toes but no eyes,

no nose

no face at all, really

And not just because he was a baby on my screen, a baby I didn’t know, just another faceless baby

But because where his little mouth and eyes and nose should’ve been, there was only

blood

He didn’t look like the babies I’m used to

His skin was covered in powder and dust and he was too, too

still

He didn’t look like the babies I’m used to because his mother and father spoke in a language I don’t understand,

no not because I don’t speak Arabic

but because the cries of a grief that deep cannot be known by me,

the girl who saw a dead baby that wasn’t hers, on her screen,

while sitting on the toilet.”

“Oh my god,” she’ll say,

“That’s why I just can’t look at the news. It’s too disturbing.”

But me? I can’t look away.

While I walk to my car full of gasoline, sip my fresh iced water, lay on my bed in a house with walls and a ceiling

While I use the toilet

I am refreshing refreshing refreshing

I saw a dead baby today

And I thought to myself -

How fucking irreverent?

How ludicrous?

That I, freshly showered and well fed and safe, am watching parents grieve their murdered, mutilated, utterly perfect baby child

On my screen, from the bathroom?

They deserve better

They deserve not to be mourning at all, and least of all to be mourning with me, a stranger who cannot comprehend their pain through a screen from thousands of miles away,

but who feels some infinitesimal amount of it so deeply in the core of her bones that she cannot look away,

cannot bear to look at the world and smiling faces around her that just keep spinning and spinning

despite the fact that if they just stopped and looked, even just for a moment, even during their snack break or parking lot walk

or while taking a piss, goddammit,

they might also see the Dead Baby, see the mourning parents, see the thousands more just like them

and realize

that the world exists beyond their own line of sight

and what happens to Them is part of Us

and they might realize that they have to STOP poking at their computer keys

and mourn the baby, the Dead one,

who is just on their screen but who is so, so real and not out of reach if we all just came together and rose up to demand that this end…

I saw a dead baby today

And somewhere, on someone else’s screen

They will see him too,

and the headline will read “Well folks, we did it! You might think you are looking at a dead baby here, but no, this is simply a sacrifice in the name of war, and c’mon, not a baby at all really, that right there is a future terrorist for christssake, and we are shouting victory!”

I saw a dead baby today

And across the ocean someone else’s eyes have seen a hundred or more in the last two days alone

They are filling ice cream trucks with dead babies and young fathers and old women

As explosives rain down from the sky and the streets run

with rivers of blood

I saw a dead baby today

From my bathroom window that looks out on a view ten thousand miles away and

they want me to go back to work to pay my taxes

so that more and more blood will be on my hands,

and yours, too.

How is it, that we are checking the news, shaking our heads like “what a shame” and continuing on with our silly, little, meaningless days while the world is ending for someone just like us?

How many dead babies will it take, piled up in Gaza,

before we can pay attention to

nothing else

and beg and fight for it to stop?

I saw a dead baby today

And it was the least I could do

to not look away

To bear witness to unspeakable pain

I’ll never know his name, but I will mourn him just the same

I saw a dead baby from Gaza today

If you saw him too, would you want to fight for change?

[datoneboardedguy]

Scarlett Witch x Male reader fanfic lemon!

(Just pretend that Black Widow is you, Also I don’t know where this photo came from or who made it since I suck at Googling. So if anyone knows who made this image then PLEASE let me know so I can properly credit them for it.)

(DISCLAIMER I don’t own MARVEL or their characters!..)

Third pov:

Soon after the end of the Dr Strange MOM movie Wanda was back to being completely depressed about being alone & is looking at a new way to fill that void in her soul that she tried to fill with the Avengers & then with Hex Magic family but all she ended with was a lesson NOT TO enslave an entire town & NOT TO read any strange ancient Dark Magic books. & since then she’s been living in hiding in a secluded part of the world, but that will soon change as she will soon be encountered by a lost lonely traveler..

Your pov:

I’m travelling through an Amazonian rain forest trying to find the tourist hiking group I was travelling with & now I can certainly say that I’m lost. “GODDAMMIT! I should’ve known better than to take a pee break mid hike, now the crew left me behind.” After some time of aimlessly wondering the forest trying to find civilisation I came across a forest cabin a pretty old school one too & as I approached the front door of the cabin I saw a pair of glowing red eyes through the door window & I saw my body started to glow then I realised that I couldn’t move. As the eyes drew closer I could see the woman behind them. The door opens & she’s revealed to be Wanda Maximoff from the Avengers that went missing a few months ago & as I saw her getting closer she telekinetically pulled me into the cabin & shut the door behind me then she walked right in front of me making me nervous & she asked “What are you doing here?” I obviously responded “I-I’m just lost! Why’s an Avenger living alone in a cabin in the woods may I ask?..” “Can’t a woman just like living in nature?” “Yeah but there’s a difference between living in nature & completely hiding yourself away from all of civilisation.” “You haven’t seen the news haven’t you?” “No I don’t watch the news, it depresses me. Why?!..” she sighs “I’m wanted by the government for taking a small town hostage & since then I’ve done horrific unspeakable things.” Wh-what why?!..” “because I wanted to bring my boys from the Multiverse into this world but I was misled into believing dark magic was the key to success until I realised how much of monster I’ve become then I put an end to it, all because I’m entirely alone..” “Forgive me for asking but if you’re just feeling lonely & if you’re as powerful as you say you are then why don’t you just just kidnap the nearest man or woman I don’t judge & just use your magic powers to mind control & or brainwash them into hooking up & having endless sex with you instead of breaking the entire Multiverse & potentially destroying all of reality just to steal another version of your two kids?..” she then started mischievously smirking at me with a slight glimmer of red magic glowing from eyes, “Oh really?..” I then realised what I’ve just done. I then sighed & annoyingly said “I don’t know when but one of these days I gotta learn when to shut my fucking mouth!..” “Yes, you do..” she then suddenly started using her magic powers again to hold me in place then slowly pulling me closer with her magic until I was just inches in front of her face then she slowly moved her hands to the sides of my face then magic started to flow from the tips of her fingers into the frontal lobe of my brain. I started feeling a huge surge of lust flowing into my body & all of a sudden I was also noticing how attractive Wanda is & with each & every wave of her fingers Wanda delving deeper into my mind combing through my memories, experiences, my ambitions & all of my thoughts including the thoughts of how I found her attractive she then smirks at my thoughts about her then my lust started increasing by tenfold then she uses her hex magic to coat her lips as she closes the distance & finally our lips connected. Magic instantly flows into my mouth as we started to passionately make out & my consciousness faded away as I put my hands around her waist, the more we make out the more enthralled I become until I am completely a mindless husk with a primal thirst for constant sex, then Wanda uses her magic to make both of our clothes disappear in a puff of red smoke as she threw onto the bed. Then she seductively crawls on top of me & then straddles my waist to slide my rock hard member into her folds & suddenly a new wave of pleasure courses through our bodies as we started thrusting into each other, soon after she resumed our Hex induced make out session & now her Hex magic was flowing into & coursing through my body from top to bottom making us pick up the pace as the pleasure is now finally reaching it’s peak then as we both finally climax simultaneously. “You’re mine now..”

The End..

[suicidalslasher]

𝑛𝑖𝑔𝘩𝑡 𝑐𝘩𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑠 ➤  𝑏𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑙. & 𝑠𝑡𝑢 𝑚.

In which the reader comes home, completely broken-hearted and her two friends, Stu Macher and Billy Loomis, come in to put a smile on her face and show her how much they love her.

WARNINGS:  This is a smut but not well written, lol. It’s mainly just oral, both receiving and giving. (male and female.)  Also, if you squeeze your eyes really tight, you may get a glimpse of slight foreshadowing in which Billy and Stu killed the guy that broke the reader’s heart but blink and you might miss it. Anyways. Enjoy.  

(Y/N) lied upon a soft feather mattress, cocooning herself in the silk sheets. A sad sigh surpassing her lips as the realization settles in, hitting her like a ton of bricks, like a cold bucket of water was thrown on her. She's alone. The room feels empty. Wait, no, scratch that. 

It is empty.  It's dark and cold and lonesome. As many blankets that surround her and although she has many draped around her body, her skin still somehow prickles with goosebumps and she's shivering.  

Though, she knows it's not because she's cold. She isn't shaking because of that. Not really. Before she could stop herself, her eyes start to glisten with tears, the corner of her eyes pooling with water and slowly but surely, they slide down her skin, wetting her cheeks. Goddammit. God fucking dammit, she thinks, reaching over and grabbing the duvet comforter,  she slides it over her head. Broken, silent sobs then proceed to escape past her lips, although she oh so desperately tries to hold them back. She fails miserably.  Then, out of nowhere, she hears a little knock, followed by another.   Rolling over to lay on her stomach, (Y/N) buries her face into the nearest pillow, causing mascara tears to soak and stain the cushion as she continues to cry and sob. Before she realizes it or even can acknowledge it, the window to her bedroom is being pulled up and her friends, Billy Loomis and Stu Macher, step inside her bedroom.   "(Y/N)?" (Y/N) is quick to flip around upon hearing her name, her heart hammering wildly against her chest. 

 "S-Stu? Billy? What the Hell are you guys doing here?"  She relaxes, having  seen her friends standing by her bedroom window rather than the man everybody was fearing lately in Woodsboro.  

A masked man with a dark cloak and a spine-chilling voice. She was lucky she hadn't heard what he sounded like, she had enough nightmares as is. It was hard to say whether or not it was a man behind the mask but regardless, whatever sex the person was, they were crazy, inside and out. End of story. (Y/N) makes a mental note, reminding herself to lock her window next time and to keep track of that before she gets comfortable and goes to bed. Especially with what was happening everywhere in Woodsboro. "We wanted to make sure you were okay."  Billy said, walking over to the girl as he sat down next to her,  the mattress sinking beneath his weight. Stu followed, nodding happily as he shows a few VHS tapes, gesturing them over to (Y/N).

 "We brought movies to watch and snacks, too!" He exclaimed as he then pulled out a small plastic bag, dumping out the items onto her bed. 

There was chips and candy and they were all her favorite flavors and brands, too. (Y/N) felt the tears pooling in the corner of her eyes again at the sweet gesture her friends were sharing with her. "Oh... c'mon, don't be such  a cry baby." Stu snickered but he wrapped his arms around (Y/N) and pulled her into a side hug, Billy following right behind, hugging her from her right. 

 "We love you, we've got your back, always, okay?" "What Stu said. Besides, this world doesn’t deserve an angel like you, (Y/N).” "Mhm." Stu nodded.   "I really liked him, that's all..... I should've known it was a set up to get back with his ex." (Y/N) said with a sniffle, running a hand over her face as she tries to rid herself of any left over makeup, especially getting rid of the mascara, although, if she were positive, that and her eyeliner were most likely now resting on the pillow she had cried into rather than on her face. "Well, he's a fucking idiot." Billy growled.   "He doesn't see how perfect you are, (Y/N)." "Billy and I see that, though." Stu said, taking his hand off from her shoulder as he now rests his hand on her thigh, giving her a reassuring squeeze. It made (Y/N)'s breath hitch in her throat and she bites on her lower lip, nervously. 

What were they doing....? She thinks. “We would do anything for you. Absolutely anything.”  Billy said. "We'd do anything just to see you happy, just to see you smile..." Stu continued. "You deserve nothing but the best, deserve nothing but happiness." "So, please... (Y/N)... let us give you that. Let us show you how beautiful and loved you really are. We love you.... we love you so much-" "We love you so much we'd kill for you." Billy looks over at Stu, giving him a questioning glare and (Y/N) goes to ask what that stare meant but her words are loss and any train of thought she had left the building once she feels both hands of Billy and Stu's on her thighs.

 One on her left, the other on her right. "So.... no movies then?" (Y/N) asked jokingly. Her heart, like earlier, was pounding so loud she swore both boys could hear it against her chest. Her body was trembling as it had done earlier but now, it wasn't from sadness or feeling broken but rather hot and bothered. 

She did always have an attraction to Billy and Stu, she'd be a liar to say she didn't. "We can watch them later. Right now, we want to see those legs of yours sprawled out, give us a view of that pretty pussy." (Y/N) whined softly but she obeyed, and while she did, Billy grunted while Stu spoke softly, "Such a good girl for us. You're our good girl, aren't you, sweetheart?" (Y/N) nodded as she stretched her legs on either side of her. All she was wearing was a thin gown, one that matched her sheets, being the fact both were silk.  

 "Oh.... so pretty, so beautiful." Stu purred, licking his lips, his eyes growing darker while Billy's did the same. "Naughty though.... aren't you, baby? Not wearing any panties." Billy chuckled as he stood up, feet landing on the carpeted floor with a soft thud as he walks over to (Y/N), undoing his jeans and the belt that had been neatly placed in the hoops of the pants.  

"Is it okay if you suck me off, darling? You want to be a good girl, don't you?" (Y/N) says nothing, she's unable to speak. It was as if a cat had captured her tongue and ran off with it, and she couldn't get it back from the creature. She feels paralyzed, too. Everything feels as if it's going by too fast.

 What an odd day.... she thinks. She didn't expect this to happen, not now, not ever. But she wasn't angry at it or the outcome of tonight's misfortune. It was just crazy how fast the night changes. "Baby? I asked you a question... If you know what’s good for you, you better answer me.”   "Y-yes." (Y/N) stammered, feeling heat rise to her cheeks.  "I'd love to suck you off, please, may I?" "Oh!" Stu chirped, giggling as he shook his head from side to side, a wicked grin playing out across his lips. "She's got manners, fuck - we really found the perfect girl, haven't we, Billy?" "Mhm." Billy said, pressing his cock to her lips. "Open up, sweetie. Let's see how pretty you look with a mouth full of cock." While (Y/N) parts her lips open, and as Billy pushes himself in her wet and warm mouth, (Y/N) feels heat against her clit and before she can put two and two together, Stu's devouring her pussy with his tongue and she squeaks, bucking her hips up into his touch.   "Fuck! She tastes incredible. Can't believe I haven't gotten to you sooner." Stu said before pressing his face back in between her thighs, licking and lapping her cunt with his tongue, making her tremble and shake. 

(Also makes her almost choke and gag on Billy's cock as he presses his cock further down her throat.) Above, Billy nodded as he rocked his hips back and forth, eyes half-lidded, not quite shut but not all the way open either, as he grunts out an answer; "She's good with her mouth too, Stu." He said.  

"Not sure I can last long, sweetheart..." He warned and right as the words slip from his lips,  it didn't take less than a second until (Y/N)'s mouth is being filled with Billy's creamy, white load.

 "Oh.... fuck!"  He grunts, pulling back  as he drops down next to her on the bed.

 "Go on, baby. Cum for Stu. You wanna be good for him too, don't you? Go on and cum.... cum all over his tongue, beautiful. I'm sure he'll love the taste of your juices, exploding into his mouth." And fuckfuckfuck.....

FUCK~!!

"O-Oh!"  (Y/N) mewls, bucking her hips into his mouth once more as the sweet release of her orgasm floods out of her and into Stu's mouth. Happily, Stu licks every drop up, pulling back with a very much pleased and satisficed smile.  

 "Both her and her pussy are so sweet." Stu complimented, now crawling up onto the bed and resting beside her, tucking his face into her neck as he presses a few  ghostly kisses on her skin. "Love you."

"I love you, too."

"And what about me?" Billy said with a playful pout.

"I love you too, Billy Loomis." (Y/N) admitted, grinning as she scooted a few inches over, patting the empty spot next to her. "Sleep with us?"  

Billy smiled in reply as he plopped down next to his now lovers, curling up in (Y/N)'s side and kissing the other side of her neck, the way Stu had done previously.  

 "I'll treat you to a good time too,  tomorrow," (Y/N whispered, mainly to Stu but she turned and repeated the sentence to Billy as well. The boys look at each other with a smirk, giving one a knowingly glance before they turned back to (Y/N). 

"Sounds like a plan, baby." The smile she wore across her lips falls into a frown and the boys are quick to sit up, having seen the smile turn upside down. "Baby, are you okay?" "Yeah." "Babe....don't you lie to us." "I'm not." She answers truthfully. "But.... this- I mean, us three, it's real, right?" She gestures in the air with a wave of her hand.  "You won't play with my feelings and hurt me-" "Baby." Billy's voice is rough and cold,  and his grip on her is far from affectionate and soft. "We'd kill for you, remember?" "We love you so much, (Y/N) you have no idea to what limits we'd go to prove that to you.” She didn't understand why the two kept repeating that very first sentence but she didn't question it, didn't think anything of it. She smiled and nodded, rubbing at her eyes now tiredly.

 "I love you both, too. Now... before I get too tired, can we watch those movies you rented?" Billy laughed softly as Stu scrambled up and on his feet, grabbing the candy and the films that had fallen on the bed off of the floor and goes to set the VHS player up, clicking the TV on with a push of a button. 

"You're gonna love these, (Y/N)! It's a new horror movie that came out!" "As long as it's not a slasher with a mask like the one that's hanging around in Woodsboro, I'm fine with anything. Whenever that monster goes away, I'll be fine and more than happy to watch slasher films again... just not now." She says with a laugh. "Don't worry, baby. With us around, you’ll be safe and sound. We’ll protect you.” 

“Promise?”

“Promise.” 

[draco-and-tom]

Whose name?- George Weasley

WARNINGS: Unprotected sex, Dom!George, slight dry humping, Public sex, Unprotected sex, teasing, jealousy, slight hickey kink, possessive kink

A/N: barely edited on 3/29/21 for accuracy.

You were so excited for the summer this year. Normally you hate going home, but this year you get to spend it with your boyfriend. Your parents aren't normally nice to you, so when George told you that you could stay all summer you were ecstatic. All five of you walked inside the cozy home and set your trunks down. “I know it’s not much and you're going to have to sleep with me an-” you walk over to George quickly and hug him tightly “thank you,” you say into his chest. When you pull away you see a big smile on his face and can't help but smile back. He was the sweetest person you’ve ever known. “Come on then,” he said, grabbing your hand to hold in one of his, the other holding both of you’s trunks. You wave to the rest of the group as you walk up the stairs to Fred and George’s room. As room as the door opens you look at him, not able to help the huge smile that comes across your face. “I love it here,” you say “which bed is yours?”. George points to a bed and smiles. You walk over to your boyfriend’s bed and lay down, “Everything is so cozy”. George chuckled “glad you like it, love,” he said, kissing your cheek. “I don't know why you thought I wouldn't like sleeping with yall. I mean come on….. I get to snuggle with George Weasley” you laugh and he lays down with you. “You would like that huh?” he asked, wrapping you in his arms, you humming in response. “Love you” you mumbled, “love you too darling”.

You wake up to an owl squawking at your window. George could sleep through almost anything, not that he had a choice with how many siblings he has.  You get up and walk over to the window opening it for the bird. You recognized the owl, it was Oliver's. You take the letter from the bird’s beak and read who it’s for.                                 To: Fred & George. From: Oliver Wood You walk over to where your boyfriend is sleeping and smile at how peaceful he looked. You pepper George’s face with kisses, not being able to help yourself. George starts to wiggle in his sleep before he smirks with his eyes closed. You noticed, but keep on kissing him. “Nice way to wake up might I say” George opens his eyes to look at you when you stop kissing him. You rolled your eyes “Sorry” you said, trying not to blush, but feeling your cheeks burn. He chuckled “no please don't be sorry. It’s adorable honestly.” He leaned in and gave you a soft meaning full kiss before pulling away. “What’s that?” he said pointing to the letter. “Oliver wrote to you and Fred” George closed his eyes and put his hands over his face mumbling something like “goddammit Fred, fucking ass-” you pulled his hands away and could tell he was frustrated “What’s wrong?”. George looked up at you and rolled his eyes “Fred invited Oliver to play quidditch. I told him not to invite him” he groaned “It’s hard not to punch him in the face when he’s looking at you like he would take you up against the wall”. You blushed “George...he doesn’t like me like that. And even if he did I love you and only you. I'm all yours.” George nods. “Promise?” he asked “I promise”. George leaned up and kissed you softly and kissed you passionately. You kissed back, loving the feeling of his lips touching yours. You could always tell how much he cared when he kissed you. George flipped you over to where he was on top and started to kiss down your neck. You began to whimper as he sucked a mark on your skin until his hands started to tickle your sides. “AH GEORGE STOP THAT YOU T-TWAT” you screamed through your laughter. George stopped and you both laughed. “Thanks, George I was kinda getting into that before you ruined it!” he smiled “I know. I mean you should’ve seen it. You were whimpering and I could see your lip quivering, I even heard my name a couple of times,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows and you. You blushed and rolled your eyes. You look over to see Fred in the doorway with an almost scared look on his face. “Bloody hell you two, get a room”

When Oliver arrives

You and George are cuddling on the couch and watching some muggle movie when Oliver opens the door he walks in and looks you up and down. “Hello there Y/N,” he said “Hey” you responded before looking at your boyfriend to find he was already looking at you and tightening his grip on your body. “Hey y/n” Oliver tried to get your attention. You gave George a reassuring peck on the lips before looking at Oliver “Yeah?” you asked. “What's that bruise on your neck?” he asked, leaning closer to get a better look at it. “Well if you must know wood, it’s a hickey” Oliver backed up to his original spot and made a surprised face “hmm… kinda weird looking don't you think. It’s got a weird blob shape to it eh’? “. You rolled your eyes, starting to see what your boyfriend was talking about. You could feel George stiffen at his words. He tended to be confident in the moment, but self-conscious afterward. “Actually I  like them,” you say looking at Oliver “you know sometimes I wish he would do it more often to be honest with you”. Oliver looked at you like he didn’t know what to say, so you turned your attention to someone more important, your boyfriend. George leaned over to whisper in your ear “Is that true love? Cause if so… I'm sure I can make some arrangements”. George pulled back to watch your reaction. You felt your cheeks get hot and look at your hands in your lap, biting your lip “Mhm” you mumble.  George chuckles and kisses your cheek and you hear Oliver walk out of the room. “You know…” he whispered “I can't tell if seeing you flustered makes me want to fuck you into my mattress or cuddle with you, but I'm debating doing both,” he said, causing you to whimper. George kissed you on the cheeks and got up from his spot on the couch. “Well, I should go get the others so that we can plan out the whole quidditch thing,” he said. Once everyone was in the living room George and Fred spoke up “what are the teams?”. Ginny smiled “Well, I was thinking we could change our plans” she smirked. “Mom and Dad left a little while ago, so I thought we should play truth or dare”. Ron rolled his eyes “Really ginny, we aren't little kids anymore”. Ginny scoffed “Actually Ronald, you didn’t let me finish” you fought to keep in your laugh. Ron really does have a problem with cutting people off. “I was going to tell you that I have some  veritaserum,” she said grabbing a glass bottle out of her pocket, “thought we’d make the steaks higher. If you refuse a dare, or pick truth, then you have to take some” she smirked. “Oh, I'm so in,” you and George said at the same time.  George and you looked at each other and started laughing, making Oliver roll his eyes. The six of you all began to walk outside to the fire that Fred made for the game, before sitting in a circle beside it, Ginny set the bottle in the middle. “y/n” she asked “truth or dare”. You rolled your eyes and chuckled “truth”. She nodded her head and people around the circle laughed “okay. Take a drop” she gestured to the potion. You reach for the veritaserum and put a drop on your tongue. “Okay y/n” she giggles “Have you and George had sex, and if you have how good was he”. You can't stop the words from coming out of your mouth and immediately respond. “Oh yeah, a few times actually.” people around the circle laughed. “And for the second question… god yes. Don't even get me started on how good he feels,” you said “okay y/n that’s enough” but you continued “I mean god, I would be down to let him fuck me right now if you all weren't here.” Everyone in the circle starts to laugh except for Oliver and George. Oliver looked pissed and George was well smirking proudly.  “I mean he knows a lot more than he’ll tell you I ca-” Ginny cuts you off, giggling “Okay y/n, we get it,” she said, trying to catch her breath “it’s another turn,” she said and turned to George. “Truth or dare?” she asked. “Do you even know me?!” he asked, pretending to be offended. Ginny rolled her eyes “I dare you to go have 40 minutes in heaven with y/n”. George smirked and grabbed your hand, pulling you with him back into the burrow. Once you were inside George kissed you “Did the potion wear off yet?”. You nodded your head, “I think so.”. He hums “Do you touch yourself thinking about me?” he asked. You looked down at the ground and blushed. “Yep. It’s worn off,” he said and pulled you over to the couch. He lightly pushed you onto the couch and climbed on top of you. George kissed you and you wrapped your legs around his waist, feeling how hard he was. He took his lips off of yours and started trailing them down your neck, leaving marks along the way. “You’re already s-so hard” you whimpered “How could I not be? A few minutes ago you were bragging about how good I make you feel. As soon as you started talking I knew that I was going to have to take care of you later. Ginny’s a good wingman” he said, moving back up to your jawline. You whimpered at his words and the feel of his lips on your skin. “George I want you so bad. Please make me feel good” you said through your whimpers, causing his hips to buck against yours on accident. You moaned loud at the friction you’ve been needing. George smirks at your reaction, this time rolling his hips against yours on purpose. You moan louder “George! Please”. George moves his mouth up to your ear “Did you want something darling?” he asked. “Please fuck me George. I need you, all yours” you whine out. George groans “Damn right you are”. He gets off of you and starts to take off his clothes as quickly as possible, you soon follow his reactions. George moves over to the couch “come here beautiful” he said and you oblige. You get on top of him, unable to hold in your whines. You knew what was about to happen, George has fucked you like this before, It’s probably your favorite position.  Your boyfriend helped you lift your hips and aligned himself with your throbbing pussy before slowly pushing your hips down. “Fuck you’ve got such a tight little hole” he grunts. George’s grip on your hips tightened as he lifted you off of his cock and slid you back down. George got faster with every thrust. He was fucking up into you and you lived for it. “George” you moaned loudly, making the boy fuck harder and deeper into you. You writhed above him, taking everything he gave you. You started feeling yourself clench around George’s cock. “I'm so close George'' you whined “Me too,” he said between uneven breaths. George’s movements stop for a moment, hearing the front door squeak. George looked to the door frame and saw Oliver looking at them, deciding to let him hear you. He was going to make it clear that when you moan, you moan for him and him only. You didn’t know that Oliver was there, you were feeling too good to pay attention to your surroundings. George pounded roughly into you. You cried out broken moans of his name with every thrust. George kept eye contact with Oliver. George could tell that Oliver was pissed and didn’t give a fuck, he wanted George's girl. “Who do you belong to again?” he growled “You!” you moaned out and tucked your head to suck marks on his skin. “I'm sorry darling. I didn’t catch their name” he groaned “who makes you feel this good?” you moaned louder for him “George Weasley!”. George smirked at Oliver and knew how close you were, you get louder and -if possible- tighter. You cum hard, tightening around George’s cock and whimpering his name. George couldn't handle going much longer after hearing your pretty little whimpers and came inside of you. You lift your head and look to see what George was staring at “oh, hey Oliver”

TAGLIST: @georgeswh0re

[mandoalorian]

antidote

In celebration of 8 years since TLOU.

Joel Miller x F!Reader

summary: you’re getting ready for the surgery that will save two billion lives. only, you haven’t told joel about the consequences of the procedure. and he’s not happy when he finds out the truth.

rating: T

warnings: angst, semi-canon divergent if you’ve played the game you’ll understand why, death mention, surgery mention, apocalypse world, virus mention

word count: 1.398

please please reblog !

Did he trust the Fireflies? Fuck no. Did he trust you though? The only person who’d shown him true, genuine care and kindness in this brutal and torn up world he’d been forced to call home? When he had spent so long without the affection of another person? Did he trust you? More than anything.

“It’s going to be just fine,” you promised him, the night before the surgery. He huffed and you curled your body into his, nuzzling your face into his warm chest. You were going to miss this so much. “It’ll be over before you know it.”

You’d never lied to him in your life. But you knew if you were honest this time, he’d never let you go through with the surgery. You knew Joel; and he’d already lost everything. His wife… Sarah, he couldn’t bear to lose you too.

Even if it meant saving the world.

“What if something happens?” Joel asked, his voice thick with worry. His calloused fingers pushed the stray bits of hair out of your face so he could get a good, clear look into your eyes. “What if… you don’t wake up?”

You rubbed his bicep and soothed him with gentle hushed tones. “I promise you Joel,” you sniffed, trying to hold back tears. If he saw you crying he’d know something was up. You had to keep it together. “Everything will be okay.”

And everything was okay, until it wasn’t.

Joel said goodbye to you, and gave you one last kiss. It was a kiss that lingered on your lips right up until the end. It wasn’t until the doctors tied you to the bed and rolled you away did your tears begin to free fall. You were just glad he wasn’t there to see you cry.

You’d had a good life, all things considered. And you were doing the right thing. No matter how much it pained you, in life and in death, you were going to be a hero.

You could only pray that Joel would forgive you for this.

You felt a sharp stinging feeling in your neck and before you knew it, you were clouded with blackness. Joel promised you that he’d wait for you, and that he did. He wasn’t going to leave the hospital until he knew you were safe and sound.

That’s when Marlene came back, tears glazing her brown eyes. She sat next to Joel.

“I don’t know how you do it,” Marlene sighed, running her fingers through her curly dark hair and adjusting her headband.

Joel quirked an inquisitive eyebrow, turning to face Marlene. “Do what?”

“I just really admire you,” Marlene shrugged. “If it were my husband— or someone l loved, I don’t think I could let them go through with the surgery.”

Now Joel was even more than confused. You had told him, promised him, that the surgery was a safe procedure. The doctors would simply remove the Cordyceps from your body and that would be it. They could start work on the vaccine that would save two billion people. You had told him over and over again that everything would be fine. That you would be fine.

“And why’s that?” Joel beckoned, his stomach twisting as if he wasn’t already worried enough about you.

“Well, I wouldn’t want my feelings to get the better of me. I wouldn’t want to lose my husband.” Marlene said weakly.

“Lose?”

“She didn’t tell you?” Marlene’s eyes widened slightly. “Oh.”

“What the hell are they going to do with her?” Joel spat, bolting up from the chair and reaching into his holster, his fingers curling around his revolver. He should’ve known not to trust the Fireflies. But you…? Had you lied to him? Joel felt his cheeks burn with rage, his heart hammering against his chest at the prospect of losing you, whatever that meant. “Answer me Goddammit!”

“It’s intertwined with the brain, there’s no other option. There’s no other way to remove the specimen without destroying the host,” Marlene told Joel. “You know that, right? When she came for her scans, we discovered the Cordyceps in her is a brain infection. We made her aware of this and she still wanted to go through with procedure.”

“You we’re going to fucking kill her?!” Joel yelled, losing any and all grasp of his common sense and cornering Marlene into the wall. It was like an instinct, the way he pushed the barrel his revolver into her lower stomach, feeling the anger coarse through his veins.

“We we’re going to save two billion lives!” Marlene retorted, fear stricken in her eyes. She raised her hands defensively, in a surrender-like motion. “It’s what she wanted Joel!”

But Joel couldn’t take it. No. He wasn’t going to let this happen.

“Where is the operating room?” Joel asked Marlene, trying to steady his erratic breathing.

“I’m not going to let you do this Joel.” Marlene replied, doing her best to sound calm and collected as she dipped her hand down the knife she kept attached to her belt.

“I don’t have time for this bullshit,” Joel hissed. “Where is she?!”

He needed to find you and he needed to stop this procedure before it was too late.

Joel gave Marlene about two seconds to answer before pulling the trigger and shooting her in the stomach. Marlene let out a yell and the knife fell from her grip, clattering to the ground beneath her and Joel.

“Tell me where the fuck she is, Marlene.”

Marlene spluttered out crimson coloured blood, trying to catch her breath as the wound in her stomach became unbearable. But Joel didn’t have time to wait around, so he shot her, again, irritated that she was taking so long to answer his damn question. This time, she crumpled beneath him, sliding down the wall into a puddle of her own blood. Joel stumbled back, observing Marlene who was now gasping and heaving.

With shaky hands, Joel raised the revolver to Marlene’s head. One last time.

“Where. Is. The. Operating. Room.”

”Top floor, the far end.” Marlene spluttered out.

With no remorse, Joel shot the final blow to Marlene, promptly putting your old friend out of her misery. He was going to find you. And he was going to bring you home.

There was no telling when exactly you woke up. After all, it’s not like you had been expecting to wake up. Your vision was blurry at first and you felt exhausted. Was this… the afterlife?

Your back ached and it didn’t take long before you realised you were lying across the back three seats of Joel’s truck. And he was driving.

Orange beams of sunlight seeped through the trees and reflected against the windows, the shadows sculpting your boyfriend in the most perfect way.

“Joel?” you managed to croak out, trying to sit upright and get a good view of what was going on. “Where— wh— what—“

You were supposed to be dead. And you weren’t. You looked down, still wearing the scratchy paper hospital gown.

“Be gentle with yourself, the drugs are still wearing off.” Joel said, glancing at you in the rear view mirror. He smiled to himself, knowing that he’d saved you.

How could he have done something so profoundly stupid? You could never forgive him for this. Never.

But Joel knew that if he had to do it all again, choose between saving you and saving the world, he’d save you in a heartbeat.

———

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[snowstark]

— you’re my world. —

for @truckloadoffrogs | LINK TO AO3

for @buckybarnesbingo | Y2 - Kink: Wall Pinning

“I… oh, I get it now.” Sam tilted his head, perceptive as ever, goddammit. “All this flirting with my sister, that was just to get my attention, wasn’t it? I know it was. Say it.”

“That wasn’t—” Bucky croaked, but Sam wasn’t having it.

He huffed a low laugh, and bulldozed right through Bucky’s feeble pretense. “You like it when I pin you against the wall? Take away all that power you have, that strength that your arm gives you? Make you feel small, maybe?”

“Stop. Flirting. With my sister.”

“Sam, she’s a grown woman!”

Sam growled. He actually growled, what the fuck. “She’s still my sister.”

Bucky snorted. “Alright, fine, Christ. Sorry.” He raised his hands in a surrendering gesture. “We’re cool now, right? Didn’t mean anything by it.”

Sam eyed him for a few moments, then nodded. His shoulders drooped, like they had lost all the pent-up tension, and he reached out to clap Bucky on the back, hesitating for just a second before going for it. “Yeah, we’re… yeah, we’re cool.” His jaw flexed and he looked away for a split second, like he had more to say, but he didn’t; he just walked off, giving Bucky another pat before ducking into the boat.

Bucky stared after him, sucking the inside of his cheek thoughtfully.

Sam was weird.

Sam pissed him off. From the moment he’d refused to move his seat up in the car, he’d burned right through Bucky’s patience like a hot flame and gotten right on his nerves. Had toasted them to crumbs, in fact. He’d yapped on about that shit about Gandalf and the big three—as if Bucky wouldn’t have read the goddamn Hobbit! And now he was here, being all domestic about his boat, and Bucky was willingly helping him.

Sam was so fucking weird.

But… he still liked him.

He was… they were… it was complicated.

__________

“Hi, Sarah.” Bucky smiled and waved, hearing the waves slosh behind him—nice, he liked that; reminded him of when he and Stevie would go on walks by the bay—and she smiled, waving back. Bucky grinned, and she ducked into the house. She was real pretty. She was. He liked her.

Sarah was Steve’s ma’s name. That was kind of weird, he had to admit. But Bucky found that a lot of things were weird now. Like the internet. Mytube—no, youtube. Social media. Cellphones.

No wonder Steve had written things to discover in the book. It was there in his pocket now, too. It was small and old, but it felt like his whole damn world, because it had been Steve’s. All he had left of Steve were bits and pieces of objects that he could put together to find some sort of remembrance of him, so every part counted. A machine couldn’t run when it was missing a screw.

“So. Why did my sister just tell me you could stay the night again?” Sam plopped down next to him, and despite his words, Bucky could only see amusement on his face. “Oh, hold on, let me correct myself—why did my sister just say my handsome friend can stay the night?”

Bucky’s lips twitched before he could stop himself, and he had to cover his laugh with a cough at the mildly outraged look on his face. He shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a charmer.”

“No.” Sam gave him a look, and Bucky tossed him an affronted one right back.

“That was rude.”

“No, I mean—” Sam huffed. “You are a charmer, okay? Whatever.”

Why did that make Bucky’s chest feel warm? Sam was so fucking weird.

“Doesn’t mean you have to be charming my sister.” Sam frowned at him.

Bucky gave him a mockingly sympathetic look. “Can’t help it. Charmers don’t choose who they charm.” He gave Sam a lopsided grin. “Just happens.”

“Okayyy. And now your ego is pissing me off.” Sam rolled his eyes.

“I don’t have an ego,” Bucky said defensively.

“Oh, baby, you do.” Sam let out a bark of laughter. “Please. Charmers always have an ego.” He gave Bucky a pat on the shoulder, a bit harder than necessary, Bucky thought, and strode off to break up the playful tussle his nephews had started with the shield.

Baby.

Sam called him baby.

Bucky let his left hand drift up to his shoulder, touching the spot Sam had clapped, just hard enough for him to really feel the ache. Shit, Sam was strong.

And weird.

Really, really fucking weird.

Baby.

Bucky shivered.

__________

See, Bucky’d thought it was a joke, had thought that Sam was joking when he’d said stop flirting with my sister. And that was why he’d kept doing it, because it was funny to rile Sam up, and that was what they did with each other, that was what Sam did to him.

So he didn’t quite understand why Sam was refusing to say a single word to him while they fiddled with the water pipes of the boat.

Or, well, he did understand, but he just— look, the situation was weird and complicated.

All he knew was that Bucky had flirted again with Sarah; she was a nice woman, her smile made him smile, and Sam was upset because he had spent the last couple of days telling Bucky not to. But the truth was, Bucky had thought it was a joke, even more so because he and Sarah had established—just by exchanging a very long look with each other, how strange was that?—that it wasn’t serious, that it was just them exchanging sweet manners, and he’d thought Sam was joking when he said stop.

Bucky had thought it was a joke, and now that he realized that it wasn’t, there was a familiar little ache in his heart, one that he didn’t like to discuss or delve into, one that he knew well because he constantly carried it around with him.

Guilt.

And the fact that Sam was giving him the cold shoulder was making it worse by the second.

“C’mon, Sam.” Bucky scowled to hide his hurt. “C’mon, jesus fuck. If I’d known you were gonna throw such a tantrum I wouldn’t have done it.”

No response, except for another flex of Sam’s jaw muscles.

“Christ,” Bucky muttered under his breath, chest tightening with frustration and anger and resentment and fear because shit, he didn’t have anyone else besides Sam now, he didn’t— he needed Sam, he wanted Sam, he— no.

No. That wasn’t the path he was going to go down. He’d done it with Stevie, he’d done it with— with a billion of others, and he didn’t need to be focusing on whatever this was right now, he needed to be making amends and saving the world—with Sam.

Sam.

It always circled back to Sam fucking Wilson, right there in the corner of his brain, never leaving him alone, always lingering, always reminding him that he was always— always— alone.

He wasn’t… Sam wasn’t his.

And he needed to stop hoping for something that he would never fucking get. Wasn’t this proof enough? Sam refusing to look at him, not speaking to him, turning his head away just when Bucky tried to make eye contact so he could show that he was sorry, because his words were never enough? Wasn’t it proof enough that he was reaching for something he would never be able to grasp in his hand?

Sam didn’t need him. Not the way Bucky needed him. Sam wouldn’t understand, so he would— he would need to leave him alone. Let him be. It’d be fine. He’d just go to his apartment again, he’d be fine on the floor, with the dog tags clinking as he woke up from yet another nightmare, the TV flashing bright enough to make him twitch in his sleep, the bare, cold room, cold like ice, cold like the soldier, cold like loneliness.

It was always cold without Sam, he realized.

That created a lump in his throat that he couldn’t swallow, his spit felt like acid, burning a hole into his tongue, and he couldn’t— this wasn’t—

“Okay,” he said, and his voice came out more hoarsely than he’d wanted it to. He cleared his throat, forcing the lump down, feeling it move down to his stomach, and he tried again. “Okay. I’ll just—I’ll let you be.”

Sam twitched, reaching for the wrench to fix the pipe, but… silence.

Bucky took a step back, and still… nothing. He was shocked by how hollow he felt inside.

And when Sam pulled out his phone, like he wasn’t even fucking there, the hollowness in his chest filled, filled with anger, with frustration, with— with—

“Okay,” he repeated, muscles tensing enough to hurt. “Okay, I’m gonna go to Sarah and see if she needs a hand in the kitchen.” He turned, grimacing at the jab—no, bait—he’d thrown, knowing it was fucking stupid, and jesus, Steve definitely hadn’t taken all the stupid with him because here he was, and before he knew what was happening, there was a whirl of movement in the corner of his eye as Sam shot up from his seat and slammed him into the side of the boat.

It rocked precariously; it had been strong enough to rock the whole boat, Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, and it went straight to Bucky’s dick, even more so when he realized that Sam hadn’t just shoved him, he was holding him there, with his arm across Bucky’s chest, hard enough to make him wheeze like the 106 year old man he was, and— and Bucky—

Bucky moaned.

Sam held him there, looking taken aback not only by the noise that had left Bucky’s mouth but by the entire situation, and his eyes dropped to the tent in Bucky’s pants. “You—” He broke off, staring.

Bucky’s face flushed hotly at the dumbfounded expression on his face. Shit. This— shit, he should’ve— he’d miscalculated, he shouldn’t have—

“You like this,” Sam breathed, and Bucky couldn’t bear to look him in the eye.

“Sam—”

“No, no.” Sam pushed a finger onto his lips, making his heart skip a beat. “You like this. You like— you like me. You do. I can see it on your face, Buck.”

Bucky twitched and gritted out, “Don’t call me that.”

“I’ll call you whatever I want to,” Sam snapped, and Bucky’s mouth went dry. “Jesus fuck, Bucky. Look me in the eye and tell me you like this. You like it when I hold you down? When I make you tell me how much you like it?”

“I— no, that’s not—”

“Don’t lie to me.” Sam’s eyes flashed, stopping Bucky right in his tracks. “Don’t lie. You’ve done enough lying.” He stared at Bucky, eyes boring into his, and Bucky wet his lips nervously with his tongue, not missing the way Sam’s eyes flickered over the movement. “I… oh, I get it now.” Sam tilted his head, perceptive as ever, goddammit. “All this flirting with my sister, that was just to get my attention, wasn’t it? I know it was. Say it.”

“That wasn’t—” Bucky croaked, but Sam wasn’t having it.

He huffed a low laugh, and bulldozed right through Bucky’s feeble pretense. “You like it when I pin you against the wall? Take away all that power you have, that strength that your arm gives you? Make you feel small, maybe?”

Bucky stared back, breath hitching in his chest.

Sam tightened his hold. “Say it.”

Bucky groaned, his cock twitching. He couldn’t. He— that wasn’t— he was— Sam didn’t—

Sam… Sam wasn’t weird. He was hot.

He liked Sam.

The full extent of that realization hit him like a truck and he choked on his next breath. “Yes,” he gasped out, trembling, and Sam released him. He fell to the floor, breath still raspy and hitched in his chest.

Sam let him catch his breath, face expressionless, and then said, “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

In any other scenario, Bucky would’ve laughed at the potential that pun had, because holy fuck, his dick had never been so hard before. But right now, he was a cock-hungry tornado for one Mr. Sam Wilson, and Sam was going to fuck him into a new dimension, he already knew it.

“I—shit, Sam,” Bucky said intelligently, staring up at the man. Sam extended a hand and Bucky took it cautiously, letting him help him to his feet. “You still mad at me?”

Sam huffed and turned his head to the side, making Bucky’s heart sink a bit. There was a small pause between them, not necessarily awkward, just… there, and Bucky was ready to say something inevitably stupid when Sam beat him to it. “Nah. Nah, I’m not… I wasn’t mad.”

“Yeah, you were.” Bucky felt his lips twist into a bitter grimace, angry at himself. “Shouldn’ta done it. ‘s my fault.”

“Yeah, well.” Sam finally dragged his eyes back to him. “Not your fault you’re, well, you know.” He broke off awkwardly.

There was another silence between them and Bucky’s mind was beginning to go white with panic, because this wasn’t exactly how he’d planned this shit to go down, ever, and he stammered, “Um.”

“Um?” Sam stared back at him.

Bucky licked his lips again, and again, Sam’s gaze moved down to follow the movement. “Maybe we should—‘s too quiet. Maybe—”

“Maybe I like it quiet.”

“I—oh.” Bucky broke off, biting his lip.

Sam just stared, then broke into a wide grin that had Bucky both relaxing and tensing for whatever would come next. Then, just when Bucky was beginning to sweat through his shirt, Sam stepped closer, close enough to press him against the wall of the boat, and tilted his head when Bucky chewed at his lip nervously again. “Don’t do that,” he breathed, and Bucky obeyed instantly because Sam told him not to, “that’s mine to bite.”

That was the only warning he got before Sam pressed his lips to Bucky’s, kissing him soft and tender before Bucky let out a small moan. Almost as though the noise had jump-started something inside him, Sam growled, and the kiss quickly turned hard and wet and sloppy.

When they broke apart, Bucky’s chest was heaving, and he found himself following Sam without even realizing, only stopping when Sam laughed and pushed his hand against his chest, forcing his back to the wall again.

“You stay like that,” Sam told him, and Bucky was pleased to hear him sound a bit winded from the kiss. Good. He wasn’t the only one. “You stay where I put you.”

Bucky nodded eagerly, hard enough to give himself whiplash. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll stay,” he breathed.

“You stay,” Sam repeated, then pulled back from Bucky after one last lingering look to disappear, heading for the exit of the boat.

Bucky’s heart skipped a beat and for a millisecond, he wondered if Sam was leaving, if he’d seriously misread this situation, but there was no way that was the case, right? Sam had kissed him.

Bucky could still taste him.

Sam Wilson tasted like fucking candy.

He heard some rustling, and then a clink and a grunt, and he realized that Sam was locking the door down to the area of the boat they were in, and he swore under his breath.

Sam was serious, then.

Wetting his dry lips nervously, he let a hand fall down to the bulge in his pants, pressing the heel of his hand against his cock, letting out a deep, shaky breath that he hadn’t realized he’d been holding in.

His eyes fluttered shut and he bit his lip before releasing it, remembering that it wasn’t his to bite, it was Sam’s, and fuck, just the thought of that was so fucking heady that it made him dizzy.

“There.” Sam appeared, making Bucky jump. There was a glint in his eyes as he drew closer, then pulled Bucky’s hand away to pin it above his head without a moment of hesitation, the sheer demonstration of his strength going straight to Bucky’s cock, and he caged Bucky in his arms by planting his hands on the wall until everything, Bucky’s entire goddamn world, was full of one Sam goddamn Wilson. “Now we can get started.”

Read Part 2 Here!

[hoboal87]

In Secret

Title: In Secret

Pairing: Jensen x F!Reader

Summary: Y/N and Jensen have been in a secret relationship for five years, and she wants more.

Warnings: Angst, Affair, Open Relationship, Oral (F receiving), Implied Smut, Jensen Is A Bit Of An Ass

A/N: This is my entry for @winchesterxfamilybusiness​ “Make Me Swoon” writing challenge!  My prompt is “I’m tired of being your secret.” 

A/N 2: Y’all, I never expected such an overwhelming positive response to this one-shot! This will soon be a multi-part series, I’ve already started working on the next part, but I don’t know if I’ll get anything posted before Elastic Heart is complete. 

A/N 3: THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO HAS COMMENTED/REBLOGGED/ASKED TO BE TAGGED!

No Beta all mistakes are mine.

The air is thick around you, the smell of sex filling every inch of your room. You could die just like this, here, with the man you love, holding you tight against him as you both come down from your highs. He rolls you both over, his hand gently rubbing over your stomach, inching down to your sore and swollen pussy. You groan when he dips a finger into wet heat.

“I love cumming in you,” he whispers, gently biting at your ear, and you can feel his smile. “Wish I could do it every day.” He starts pumping his finger, tightening the coil again, and you bite back another moan.

“Mmm,” you hum as he sinks another finger in, his thumb brushes over your clit. You reach behind you, palming his half-hard cock. “You could, y'know.”

The atmosphere between you changes in an instant, he huffs, and pulls away from you, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. You should’ve known this is how he would react, every time you breach the subject it always ends the same way. The guilt you both feel, the lying, all of it comes to the surface, rearing its ugly head.

“Just tell her,“ you beg as he leaves your bed. "That’s the whole point of your agreement, isn’t it?” He doesn’t respond, reaching down to grab his once hastily discarded jeans off the floor. “She gets to fuck whoever she wants and so do you.”

“This is different, Y/N. You know that,” he sighs and steps into his jeans.

“Why?” You sit up, using the sheet to keep yourself covered. “Tell me, Jensen. Why is this different? Why is okay for her to think that your out fucking some random girl instead of me?”

“Y/N,” Jensen turns around, his emerald eyes staring you down. “It’s more complicated than that. We-” he gestures between you, “we have a history. You don’t think she knows about our past?”

“Our past?” You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks. “We were friends. There’s nothing in our past, we didn’t even start any of this until after you two were together. You had years- years Jay, to do something about that. You knew how I felt about you, but instead you jumped from girl to girl and I was the one who had to put you back together, she doesn’t get to take all the credit.”

This isn’t the first time you’ve had this fight with Jensen. Every time they go on hiatus you beg him to stay just a few days longer, knowing that it would be almost two months before he’d be back. You know deep down that it isn’t fair, he spends nine months out of the year in Vancouver, and when he’s here it’s almost like you’re a normal couple. Almost. You and Jensen couldn’t go out in public, not even as “friends,” all it would take was one ill-timed photo to throw both of your worlds into utter chaos.

Being the other woman came with its own set of rules. When it all started you were just happy to be able to be with him, even if that meant it began and ended at the threshold of your home. When you were together you were the only two people in the world, you didn’t discuss her or the fact that she was pregnant. You, in particular, were allowing yourself to live in ignorant bliss cherishing everything he had to give you. You never thought you were the type of person who’d be having an affair with anyone, let alone Jensen, but you can’t help yourself from falling into bed with him every time he comes over.

You’d gone to high school together, and for four years you waited patiently for him to ask you out on a date. Instead, he dated one of your friends, biting your tongue when he told you about their relationship ending; you knew it wouldn’t last.

You went your separate ways after high-school, you’d stayed in Texas to go to college, and he’d gone off to Hollywood, you’d kept in touch through the years. Reconnecting when you’d moved to Vancouver for your job. It started out as harmless flirting, double entendres, and teasing.

The first time you slept together it wasn’t something either of you had planned. She was in L.A. working on her latest movie, and you were still on the rebound from your latest break-up. It was a night of too many drinks and loneliness drove your actions. You kept your distance from each other in the weeks that followed, sorting out your feelings, unsure if it was a one-time drunken mistake or the start of something real.

The second time you were both sober. He’d come over to discuss what happened; how he would never cheat on her, he was in love with her, he wanted to marry her. You tried to understand, Jensen was always a fantasy, someone who you could never have. You didn’t want to ruin your friendship with him over sex. You both agreed to put it behind you, never discuss it again, “pretend it never happened,” he insisted. It nearly killed you, but you nodded hesitantly.

He reached out to squeeze your knee, and you made your way towards the front door. You fidgeted with your hands as you entered the front walkway, not wanting him to leave. There was a hesitation as Jensen reached for the doorknob, and you pulled him in for a hug, melting your body into him. Before you knew what was happening, your lips were on his, wanting, needing more. He had you caged against the wall, hands pawing at you, lifting you up, encouraging you to wrap your legs around his waist and he ground himself against you. His mouth never left yours as he carried you to your bedroom, dropping you playfully on the bed.

Jensen rid himself of his shirt while you shed your own, desperate to have his skin against yours. The first time was messy, rushed, this time you wanted to take your time, appreciate every moment that you were having with him. He placed sweet wet kisses over your breasts, making his way down, tugging at your jeans to expose your soaked panties. You lifted your hips as he hooked his fingers around them, pulling them along with your jeans down, tossing them onto the floor.

Jensen placed gentle kisses on the inside of your thighs, you could feel him smiling against your skin as he moved towards your aching pussy. His eyes met yours, giving you a final chance to stop him. “Please, Jay,” you murmured. Each swipe of his tongue was pure ecstasy, you reached down for him, holding his face closer to you.

You try to clench your legs around him, but he keeps them apart, eyes flicking up at you as you fall apart. He continues his assault on your cunt, removing one hand, and teasing you with his finger. You groaned as it slid through your folds up to your clit, pressing down as his tongue fucked into you. Unable to make any intelligible sounds, you heard a low chuckle come from him as two fingers entered your weeping hole.

He pumped them fast, spurring you on as you felt the coil tightening. You felt yourself clenching around him and you breathing grew heavier, his fingers finding your sweet spot, brushing it again and again as his mouth focused on your bundle of nerves. You lost all control of yourself when he added a third finger, cumming hard on his face.

“Fuck,” you moaned as he pulled away. He climbed up your body, placing wet kisses over you until he was hovering above you. His cock was hard and ready, precum leaking from the tip, you gently wrapped your hand around him, and he let out a soft groan as you slowly began to pump him. He kissed you passionately and you could taste the release of your climax on his lips.

“I love you, Jay,” you whimper. It wasn’t something you were ever planning on admitting to him, or to yourself, but you couldn’t stop the words from leaving. “I’ve always loved you.”

“I love you too, Y/N,” he whispered in your ear as you guided him towards your entrance. Jensen’s eyes bore deep into you, studying your face as you took in his words.

“Please, Jay,” you begged, “fuck me.”

Jensen doesn’t move; you know he doesn’t have an answer.

“I’m tired of being your secret,” you huff. “It’s been five years.”

“Goddammit, Y/N!” He shouts, throwing his hands into his hair. “She’s my wife, the mother of my children. You want me to throw it all away?”

You try to stammer out a response, but he continues, pacing in front your bed.

“You act like this is easy for me, it isn’t. I told you after that second time, I’m never going to leave her. You said you could accept that. That’s the only reason we continued this. She’s paranoid enough about you as it is, and you want me to tell her that we’ve been sleeping together for the past five years, how do you think that will make her feel?”

“How will it make her feel?” you scoff. “What about how I feel? My feelings don’t matter?”

“That’s not what I said, Y/N.”

“I’ve kept my feelings to myself for years, Jay. I’ve tried to be understanding, I haven’t asked you for anything. I don’t push the subject, but I’m tired, Jay.”

He paces in front of you, muttering to himself.

“I want you, Jay, you’re all I’ve ever wanted,” you whisper, it’s something you both know, but you never planned to say it out loud. “I broke up with Steven for you.”

“He never deserved you, sweetheart,” he says, and a smile creeps upon your face. For a moment you think that he’ll admit that he wants more with you.

"You never like anyone I date, Jay,” you chuckle slightly, “I think it because you’re jealous.”

Jensen’s body stiffens, and you know immediately that he doesn’t like your joke. He grabs his shirt off the dresser and pulls it over his head before storming out of the room.

“Jensen, babe, I was just-” you follow him out, quickly pulling on a camisole and yoga pants, not bothering with underwear. “Jay, it was a joke.”

“We both know it wasn’t Y/N,“ he snaps back and your smile quickly fades. "You think I like watching you parade with some douche? You wanna slut around with some fuckin’ prick, I ain’t gonna stop you.”

“You don’t get to talk to me like that, Jay,” you hiss. “You don’t get to act like some jealous boyfriend. You’ve made it very clear just now, that I am not your girlfriend or whatever you wanna call this.”

“You’re right, babygirl, I’m not,” he huffs, “and I’m never going to be. I’m never going to be yours, Y/N. If I wanted that, I would’ve made my move a long time ago.” Jensen’s words are like stabs to your heart, and you try to conceal the tears forming in your eyes. “I chose her over you, I’ll always choose her over you.”

There’s a flash of regret playing on his face. There they were; the words that you knew were coming sooner or later. You’d hoped he’d never say them, that the two of you could go on the way you had been for years in denial. He remains stoic as you use every ounce of willpower to not break down in front of him.

"We’re never gonna be more than this, Y/N,” he says softly. “You have to know that.”

“Y'know Jay, if you wanted this to stay casual,” you wipe the tears away, “all you had to do was say so. You’re so concerned about her, but she’s in Austin ‘slutting around’ as you delicately put it, sleeping with who knows how many people-”

“Shut the fuck up, Y/N!” Jensen screamed, and your heart fell into your stomach. He’s never yelled at you like this before, you pushed him too far this time, letting your own jealousy take over. “Don’t talk about what goes on in my relationship with my wife. She is nothing like you, she doesn’t spread her legs every time someone gives her the time of day.”

“You fucking asshole!” You yell, picking up everything that you could get your hands on, and throwing it at him. “Get the fuck out!”

“Y/N,” he tries to reason with you, blocking himself from the barrage of items being thrown at him. “Baby, listen.”

“No!” You push him towards the front door and he stumbles backwards into the hallway.

“Y/N,” Jensen reaches out to soothe you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t- I didn’t mean it.”

“Don’t touch me,” you slap his hand away. “You’re never gonna touch me again,” you push him again, moving him closer to the door. “You can go back to your perfect wife, your perfect family. Congratulations, Jay. You don’t have to choose. We’re done.”

Part 2

[scones-and-texting-and-murder]

if you would’ve been the one

(1300 words, rated T, read on ao3)

When it happens, Dean’s so hyped up by the adrenaline still coursing through his system that he almost doesn’t notice. It’s not until Sam dispatches the last vamp and Dean sags a little in relief, only to realize he can’t move. He’s pinned, like a butterfly in a display case, like he’s back on the rack.

It’s almost funny. That he could battle every sort of evil creature out there—demons, monsters, even God for fuck’s sake, only to be taken down by a bit of unfinished carpentry. He ponders the cosmic significance. Maybe there’s the start of a Jesus metaphor here, with that single nail between his flesh and the wooden post, like he’s only up to C-R-U in a fucked up game of H-O-R-S-E.

Then he remembers there is no God, no universe sending him signs or trying to teach him a lesson. Just his own free will and, apparently, shitty fucking luck that’s brought him to this inglorious moment.

Sam doesn’t get it, not at first, promising he’ll run and call for help, do what he can to patch him up but Dean stops him, asks him to stay. Yeah, they could probably do all that but Dean realizes something: he’s tired. And not only that, he’s ready.

Each night since Cas has been gone, Dean lies in bed and turns his name around and around in his mind, like a rock in a tumbler, smoothing all sides of it with his thoughts. It’s not praying, not quite, the intention isn’t there, but if Cas can still sense his longing, well, he's got that in spades. Cas gave his life for Dean, professing his love in a way that couldn’t have been more clear and Dean…he just stood there processing it all.

Dean tried to do what he always does and tucked the stunned grief he felt at losing him deep inside where the jagged edges couldn’t harm him. He rededicated himself to powering Jack up, to killing God, like finishing that would somehow make Cas’s sacrifice worth it. And when Jack became whatever it was that he became, Dean didn’t ask about Cas, even though the question was right there, trying to force its way out of his throat. Instead, he swallowed it back down. Cas had said that moment was the purest happiness he’d ever known and Dean didn’t know what to say next without defiling it.

It’s the shittiest version of waiting too long to text back until so much time has passed that it’s become awkward.

But now, with this piece of metal jabbed into what sure as fuck feels like some important organs, he finds he has some time to think. He’s got nothing left to lose, so he lets Cas’s name become an honest prayer.

The whoosh is nearly instantaneous, somehow closer than even the rushing of his pulse in his ears. It seems fitting that they’re back in a barn, although this time Dean’s the one being impaled. He hears a crackling, but it isn’t the lights showering him in sparks, just the anger flickering off of him, electricity as blue as his eyes.

He doesn’t even say it, no Hello, Dean, and yeah, Cas is pissed and Dean deserves that.

As Cas approaches, Dean realizes Sam doesn’t seem to notice him, in fact he’s faded out into the background so it’s just the two of them.

“You called?” His tone is cold, much closer to the first time they met in a barn than the last time they were together. Cas had been so human, then, emotion choking his words and filling his eyes with tears.

“I, uh, find myself in a bit of a pickle,” Dean says, and already that’s wrong.

Cas raises an eyebrow. “More like a piece of art hung on the wall.”

Dean’s mouth opens, then closes, then opens again. “Was that a joke?”

“What is it you need from me, Dean?”

It should be obvious, but Dean can’t seem to say it.

“The stories they will tell,” Cas begins, “of Dean Winchester, the greatest hunter of his time, brought down by a lowly nail.” He sighs, and holds out two fingers. “I can do this but it would’ve been nice if you’d at least kept up to date on your tetanus shots.”

Dean feels a grinding in his teeth that he probably can’t yet blame on lockjaw. He tries to duck out of Cas’s reach. “Okay, stop.”

With a look of surprise, Cas does.

“Listen, I know I should’ve contacted you earlier. I get you’re mad, I do, but all those things you said…I didn’t want you to come back and realize how wrong you were.”

“So you’ve been looking for a way to ‘let me down easy’,” he says, air quotes and all, and goddammit Dean loves him. He loves his cranky angel ass and his wild hair and stupidly blue eyes the way he’s insisted on leaving Dean affixed to this pole while they talk.

“I love you, too. I have for so long. I never dreamed you could feel the same way, not like that.” Dean can barely breathe now that he's said the words out loud.

“You’re a hard man to pin down, Dean Winchester.” There’s a small smile playing around Cas's mouth now, and the relief has Dean laughing much harder than he would at the terrible pun. It hurts and his laughter turns to a grimace. Cas touches his arm. “Let me heal you.”

But Dean shakes his head, reaching to take his hand instead. “I’m ready, Cas. Ready for what’s next. If you heal me, Sam’s going to stay and keep hunting and maybe that’s what he wants but maybe it isn’t. Either way, he’s never going to decide for himself while I’m still here.”

Cas’s face is as serious as Dean’s ever seen it, but he sees a flicker of hope in his eyes. “And you?”

“Thought maybe you could escort me upstairs and we could spend eternity making up for all we missed down here.” Cas’s face goes soft and Dean bring their joined hands to his mouth, kissing his knuckles gently. “I wish it would’ve been you,” Dean says softly. “Nailing me from behind like this.”

At that, Sam suddenly zooms back into focus, his face anguished. “Cas! Oh, thank God you’re here. Dean’s—“

“Sammy, stop. I’m okay. We got a change in plans, though.”

Confused, Sam looks between them, finally noticing their joined hands.

“We’re free now. Free to make our own choices and for once in my life I’m going to be selfish. I choose Cas. I dragged you back into this life and now I’m shoving you out of it again. You want to keep hunting? That’s up to you. But if you want to go find Eileen and settle down, that’s up to you, too.”

Sam blinks, clearly caught off guard. “Dean, are you sure?”

Dean catches Cas’s eye and they share a smile. “As sure as I’ve ever been.” Dean tries to reach for his brother to hug him, but he’s brought up short. “Cas, could you…”

“Of course, Dean.” With a wave of his hand, Dean’s free and he steps forward to embrace Sam. “Go have the life you always wanted. Have a bunch of fat babies and name one of them after me.”

Cas furrows his brow like maybe he’s seeing the future. “But don’t plaster his name on his clothing. That’s just basic child safety.”

It hurts him to see his little brother cry, but Dean knows this isn’t the end for them. “Tell them how I was the coolest and better looking brother.”

Sam nods. “I will definitely not do that.”

They hug one last time and Dean murmurs in his ear. “I love you and I’m proud of you. I’ll see you on the other side.”

Sam gives him one last bone-crushing squeeze before releasing him. “Take good care of him, Cas.”

“I will,” Cas promises.

Dean gives Cas his best blue steel. “Oh, he will.”

With that, Sam leaves and Dean knows he could never bear to watch him walk away without Cas strong and steady at his side.

Cas must sense the hesitation. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

Dean answers him with a kiss.

[tommytranselo]

some headcanons about henry’s childhood & father

the FP files list 6 brothers.  i think henry was the youngest partly bc it makes the most sense to me why (apparently) only he was sent to america but also because i think henry being a literal seventh son is very fitting given he’s superstitious and has...odd luck (things go wrong constantly but he keeps escaping death).

a lot of his brothers were already establishing their own lives when henry was a baby, and several of them got married when he was a kid; some of them moved.  by his teenage years he rarely saw them all in the same place, and a couple of them he was already beginning to lose contact with even before leaving sicily

(context for this: i didn’t realize at first they’re listed alphabetically, not by age, but whatever) the second youngest brother was salvatore, and he and henry were always close.  they wrote letters back and forth for a while; after silvio died, sal said he was taking their mother and leaving the country, maybe heading for greece.  they made it, barely, but after a while the letters petered off, and then in 1940 greece was invaded, and, well.  henry never knew what happened.

silvio was a very quiet, unemotional man–think vito corleone from the godfather.  he never raised a hand to any of his sons and rarely even raised his voice, but he was terrifying when he wanted to be and even scared the shit out of henry sometimes; with just a look and a few words he could leave grown men shaking in their shoes, and it’s something henry’s tried to emulate despite that not really being his own personality.  he was no-nonsense, set in his ways, and very catholic, which is partly why henry’s remained so as well despite it seeming contradictory to his line of work.

his mother was a lot more of a loudmouth than his father, and she’d seen some shit in her time.  one of henry’s combat lines is (iirc) “like my mother always said, you can never have too much ammo,” so (because i think women with big guns are cool) she was the first to ever let him shoot–she was a crack shot with a rifle and let him fire hers once when he was a kid, and it promptly knocked him on his ass–they never planned to tell his father about that, but one of henry’s brothers let it slip, and silvio was pissed.  he taught henry to shoot a pistol later, but eleanora trained him with the rifle, and mother and son share a fondness for big guns (the classic box art has henry holding a rifle despite never using one in game, but i can dream).

silvio never let his sons use profanity; he thought it was coarse and unprofessional, and blasphemy in particular he scolded sharply.  henry never really swore much till he picked it up from clemente’s guys, and luca quickly had him using fuck as a comma.  he still doesn’t really blaspheme unless he’s really upset, so if you hear him drop a “goddammit!” you’d better be worried.

henry never really outright lied to his father much because he wanted to be a good son, but he was dishonest–he was very much a “don’t tell dad” kid and had a bad habit of lying by omission, being evasive, saying things that weren’t “technically” lies and thinking it didn’t count; he’s a known lover of loophole abuse, and sal used to joke he should become a lawyer.  after realizing honesty wouldn’t get him anything in clemente’s organization, he gave up on the technicalities and just started lying about everything.

the reason his english is so good is because his father wanted him to learn early, and he started studying at 13 (heh).  henry thought (or told himself) at first it had to do with connections in america and eventually helping out with the family business, but it was always about silvio being concerned with the political situation in sicily and thinking they might need to leave.  looking back, henry sees that as one of the first signs he should’ve known something was wrong.  he also saw a lot of american movies both as a kid (as imports were common post-wwi) and after arriving in the states, which helped as well.

he used to run small(er) jobs for his father, along with several of his brothers, and he’s been “in the business” for the majority of his life.  it was one of those jobs he got shot for the first time, at age 17.  they rushed him to the doctor, his dad driving and sal in the backseat with him trying to calm him down.  henry completely went to pieces crying and panicking, and his father said nothing about it, but he looked so disappointed that henry swore never to cry in front of him again.  it was a promise he kept, even two years later when he was leaving for the first time–he waited till he was out of sight.

there was a brief time when he deeply resented his father for sending him away–shipping him off to a foreign country, alone, his entire life turned upside down all at once; he was bitter even if he knew it probably saved his life.  those feelings changed once he got the inevitable news of his father’s arrest and later death, and he always kind of blamed himself for not making silvio come with him or doing something.  after working under clemente for awhile, though, he started to realize he was right about being too old to make the trip–not just physically, but he was too set in his ways and couldn’t have adapted.

wrt what he says in ch5, “wiseguy” and “man of honor” mean very different things to henry–his father was the latter, and most of the gangsters he met in america were the former.  he tries to explain the difference to vito once, but ends up getting agitated and quickly tells him to forget it.  he idolized his father as a kid, always wanted to be him, and the shame of not living up to him is something he grapples with daily.

[chaeryybomb]

“two truths and one lie”

pairing: bad boy!lee know/lee minho x oblivious!reader

featuring: mentions of han jisung

genre: high school au, bad boy au, fluff, reader is an idiot 

warnings: reader is really an idiot

summary: lee know tries to confess to you through a game but you’re just oblivious as fuck

wordcount: 1.2k

honestly, you wouldn't imagined yourself on skipping class. let alone skipping with the notorious "bad boy" lee know. yet here you are, sitting outside 7/11 with a kimbap in your hand and lee know at your side, playing two truths and a lie. 

"okay, your turn," you tell him as you take a bite out of your kimbap. 

"okay uhh," lee know thinks for a while before saying, "my real name is "lee know", i want to be a professional dancer and i have a fear of heights," he finishes while looking at you. 

"the heights one definitely," you reply proudly. 

lee know laughs and shakes his head. "nope," he says, popping the 'p'.

"huh?" you tilt your head in confusion. "you're afraid of heights?" you ask in disbelief.

"that hard to believe?" 

"i mean, i thought you were fearless with the whole bad persona you have going on," you say while waving your hands around him.

lee know rolls his eyes at you and takes a sip of his banana milk. "stop stereotyping me, y/n," he playfully pushes your shoulder.

you giggle at him. "okay, okay, if the heights one is true, and obviously is the dancer one, then..." you trail off. suddenly you let out a big gasp while leaning towards him, "YOUR REAL NAME ISN'T "LEE KNOW"???"

lee know leans back a bit at your sudden outburst. "uh, yeah?" he answers you.

"what the fuck," you mutter under your breath. "and you've only told me this now??" you point your index finger at him accusingly.

"y/n, you've heard jisung called me "minho" before," he deadpans.

"yeah, well i thought "minho" was a nickname!" you defend yourself, taking a frustrated bite out of your almost forgotten kimbap in hand. 

"so all this time, you thought my given name was just "know"?" he asks you with an amused smirk.

you turn to the other side, refusing to look at him as you continue to eat your kimbap. "chan's given name is "chan" so i just assumed," you weakly tell him your excuse.

lee know throws his head back laughing at you. you glare at him and punch him on the side of his arm. "shut up! this one doesn't count," you say. 

"i swear you're worse than jisung," he says. you glare at him harder and tried your best to punch him harder.

but the brunet laughs for a solid minute before calming down. unfazed by your weak punches and menacing glare, he pats your head because he thinks you just look adorable. you growl at him and swat his hand away. crossing your arms at him and letting out a "hmph" as you refuse to look at him. you're acting like a child but he thinks you look cute. 

"fine, i'll give you another one," he gives in and starts to think of another lie. you don't reply him and continue to finish your kimbap.

he doesn't know where he got the sudden spurge of confidence, but a great idea pops into his head. he turns to look at you with a soft gaze and says, "my real name is lee minho, i have 2 cats and i like you."

you, not thinking much of his last statement, immediately say, "obviously the last one is a lie." 

lee know is taken back and he doesn't say anything. your answer was so full of confidence. he just stares at you. 

"what?" you look at him. you know he wasn't serious and was just messing with you so obviously the last one is the lie. lee know stays silent for a few seconds and honestly you start to freak out. 

"y/n," he starts out. "i have three cats."

"oh." 

.

.

.

"YOU HAVE THREE CATS??" 

lee know facepalms as you look at him with a shocked expression. "that is what your surprised about? i don't know whether to be offended by the fact that you don't believe that i like you or the fact that you don't know i have three cats. y/n you've met my cats!" he throws his hands forward in annoyance. god, he really chose to like an idiot, didn't he. 

"yeah like once!" you defend yourself again. 

he sighs and shakes his head. "you really are worse than jisung."

"hey! what's that suppose to mea-"

"y/n," he cuts you off by grabbing your shoulders so you are fully facing him, his tone suddenly serious. "i like you," he says slowly. 

'i like you,' his confession slowly echoes through your empty mind. wait, he likes you? oh. oh. your cheeks are suddenly burning with red as you finally process his words. 

lee know looks at you worriedly and places the back of his hand against your forehead. "y/n are you okay? you're burning up," he ask with you concern lace in his tone. 

you are snap back into reality and pushes him away, maybe a little too hard because a flash of hurt comes over him. you scoot away from him and look at the other side. fanning yourself with your hands as you try to calm your racing heart.

lee know, on the other hand, has a sad look. he bites the inside of his cheek and looks at the road. he should've known you wouldn't return his feelings for him. he really set himself up for this. 

"y/n, you don't have to return my feelings," he starts to say, mentally preparing for rejection but you cut him off by showing your index finger. you're still not facing him as you find a hard time to make your heart to stay the fuck still.

'stupid heart, stop beating so fast goddammit!" you mentally scold yourself. 

lee know stares at your finger, debating whether should he get up and leave or not. the situation is getting awkward and he really doesn't want to deal with an awkward situation. 

he was about to get up to leave when you turn around to finally look at him. the red is finally gone from your cheeks and you have some kind of determination in your eyes. he has never seen that look before and honestly it kind off scares him. lee know closes his eyes and inhales a sharp breath as he waits for rejection to hit him.

"i like you too."

there it is, he knew you would never like him ba-

"wait, what?" he snaps his eyes back open. your eyes aren't looking at him, but your cheeks are starting to turn pink. you like him?

"i-" you point yourself "-like you," and you gesture at him. 

"really?" he asks you. now, he has a hard time believing that you like him back. but when he sees you nod, his heart might just combust. 

"y/n, look at me."

"no."

"why not?"

"because i'm embarrassed right now."

lee know lets out a laugh. a laugh because he is so relieved. you actually like him back. god, he is on cloud 9 and absolutely loves the feeling. 

seeing him laugh out loud makes you drop your façade and you start to laugh along with him. when the laughter dies down, the both of you are just staring lovingly into each other eyes. 

"okay, my turn to ask," you suddenly say, referring to the game that you started. 

"we're still doing that?' he raises a brow.

"yup! two truths and a lie. i like lee minho, i like lee know and i knew he had three cats! now," you rest your chin on the palm of your hand, "which one's the lie?"

[uhgood-dooghu]

The Contradiction of the Century [M]

Pairing Dancer!Hoseok x Dancer!Reader

Summary Hobi’s duality is unparalleled, and nowhere does it come out more than in the bedroom. Needless to say, he leaves you sore as much as practice does.

Genre Smut, fluff, crack, dancer!au, gratuitous porn and that’s it

Warnings Unprotected sex, oral (female), face riding, dom!Hobi, edging/orgasm denial, mirrors, dirty talk, lots of begging and (non-serious, sexually frustrated) threatening, everything’s consensual & they’re in love

Word Count 5.2k

Cross-posted to AO3

“Yo, we should have a dance battle!”

You lift your tired head to find your best friend grinning as she hooks up her phone to the sound system. Upbeat music fills the studio, and she rounds on the small crowd, bouncing lightly on her feet.

“Eh?” She prompts, wiggling her eyebrows. “Guys versus girls, losers treat winners to, I don’t know, food?”

A murmur of interest runs through your teammates as they clamber to their feet. You, however, groan and arch your back, cringing when your spine cracks. A familiar chuckle filters down, and you crane your neck, rolling your eyes at Hoseok's cheeky grin.

“Shut up, Hobi,” you mutter, but allow him to pull you to your feet.

His suggestive wink does not go unnoticed as you massage circles into your lower back, still sore from the way he contorted your body in half and buried his head between your thighs barely 8 hours ago. You shudder at the memory, but before he can comment, Jimin has him in an iron grip, dragging him across the room and letting out some sort of high pitched whine about needing to win because he is just shy of broke.

In a matter of moments, the studio is echoing with a chorus of cheers and taunts as Jungkook moves to the center, driving your pain from your mind. You can’t help but grin fondly at the collective enthusiasm. Leave it to your friends to get way too hyped over the prospect of free food.

You wait until most of the girls have danced their part before stepping out. As if on cue, the group falls back slightly, leaving you and Hoseok to face each other in the middle of the studio.

“Finish it off, lovebirds,” Jimin sings, and your lips tug upwards in a smirk directed at your boyfriend.

“Ready to lose, baby?” You taunt, starting to move as the music transitions.

With a grin, he shoves his hands in his pockets and tips his head back. “Do your worst.”

Keeping your eyes level, you run a hand suggestively through your hair and lick your lips. Instantly, all signs of his normal, bright playfulness disappear, replaced by a steady, calculating gaze that follows your movements with a searing intensity. You are known for your intricate footwork, and you temporarily lose yourself in your movements, barely registering the high pitched cheers as your feet fall in sync with the beat.

A moment later, however, you catch sight of Hoseok and smirk. He has a slightly glazed expression on his face as he watches your feet move, looking up with a heated stare only when you begin to move towards him. You wet your lip again as you push into his personal space, dancing around him until you are pressed into his back, and lean up so your breath ghosts over his neck.

You wrap your arms around him and feel him up, your hands finding their way to the waistband of his sweats. Dipping your fingers below the elastic, you snap it against his hips, and a loud “ohhh” rips through the room. He tenses under your touch, making you grin into the back of his shoulder before slinking back around.

You drop and spin your body low to the floor, locking your gaze with his smoldering eyes. As you travel up his front, your fingertips brush over his thighs and taught stomach until they tap a rhythm against his chest. Leaning in, you brush your lips against his.

“Your turn,” you breathe, then you are giving him a rough push and sauntering backwards.

If he is affected, he does an impeccable job of hiding it, because all you get is a twitch of his jaw and the faintest quirk of his eyebrow as you slide smoothly across the floor amidst a chorus of whoops and whistles. When you slow to a stop, you feel your best friend hissing in your ear.

“Damn, girl, he looks like he wants to eat you alive.”

You catch your tongue between your teeth with a grin, but your face quickly turns pensive when you see the darkness in Hoseok’s gaze. As he starts to move, you catch the glint in his eye, and your stomach flips. He only gets that glint when he’s dancing…

Or fucking you senseless.

A shiver runs up your spine. You can’t tear your eyes away even if you wanted to, his stare commanding your attention. And as he twists his body to the beat, you are transfixed.

Sure, you are a good dancer–hell, you all are great dancers–but Hoseok exists on a whole other level of the dancing stratosphere, miles above you. The way his limbs seem to go boneless, feet almost floating above the floor, body conforming seamlessly to the music, divides the room into ecstatic cheers of excitement and groans of defeat.

“Fuck yeah, J-Hope!”

“Goddammit, we should’ve left him out of this.”

“Hell yeah, that’s my boy!”

“We lost.”

Suddenly, the song morphs into something slower and more sensual, and every few beats Hoseok inches closer, keeping his gaze fixed on you. You narrow your eyes, widening your stance and straightening your posture to brace yourself. But then he drops and closes the distance, sliding on his knees until his face is centimeters from the apex of your thighs. A cry rises from the small audience, and you can feel his breath through the thin fabric of your shorts. Your head goes light as you blink down at him, eyes wide and eyebrows raised in a silent “what the fuck are you doing?”

He just smirks and runs his hands up the back of your thighs, groping your butt and nuzzling into the juncture of your hip.

Through the roar in your ears you can hear your girlfriends squeal behind you, but before you can react, Hoseok is standing and pressing his weight into your back, hands digging into your hips. He pulls your bodies flush and grinds his hips to the beat, moving one hand to wrap around your jaw. Forcing your head against his shoulder, he licks at the shell of your ear, and blood rushes to your face as you squeeze your eyes shut, clutching his wrist.

“Hoseok,” you whisper, voice laced with warning, and he hums in your ear.

“Yeah, baby?” He asks, hips still moving against yours.

“Did you forget we have an audience?” You hiss, refusing to look anywhere but at a fixed spot on the ceiling.

His chuckle vibrates against your shoulder blades before he spins you around just as the music fades, his hand firmly pressed on the small of your back.

“Of course not.”

His dark eyes sear into yours, a devilish smirk playing across his lips, and if you weren’t so flustered, you would smack him.

“Oh yeah, we definitely lost,” you hear your best friend breathe, as you clutch Hoseok’s biceps, heart hammering in your chest.

Almost immediately the glint in his eye disappears, and his face melts into that wide trademark smile, eyes crinkling as he loosens his hold on you.

“Looks like we got a free meal, boys,” he calls, prompting a rather insulting cacophony of joyous shouts in response. Leaning down, he catches your lips in a quick kiss, grinning cheekily at your red face.

“I love you.”

“Holy shit, you two, get a room,” Jungkook grunts in annoyance as he passes. You hide your flush with a scoff, pushing away from Hoseok.

He laughs, turning to follow Jungkook, and you hang back for a moment to cool your cheeks on the backs of your hands. Feeling a presence by your side, you turn to find your best friend holding out your bag with a knowing grin.

“What?” You groan, grabbing your belongings and falling into step with her as you walk out of the studio.

“Nothing,” she says simply, earning herself a bruising punch on the arm.

30 minutes later, you are sitting next to Hoseok in a ramen shop amidst the buzz of your friends when you feel his hand drop heavily to your thigh. Dangerously close to the hem of your shorts, his fingers massage your flesh firmly, and you bite your lip, stealing a glance at his bright expression. The contrast makes you shiver.

And when his lips pressed against your ear, you nearly gasp aloud.

“Cancel practice tomorrow. You won’t be able to get out of bed.”

.

.

You barely pass over the threshold and discard your bag and shoes before Hoseok slings you over his shoulder, kicking the door to your shared apartment shut with a frame-rattling bang. You yelp in surprise and clutch at the back of his shirt as he carries you straight into the bedroom, depositing you unceremoniously on the bed. You bounce on the mattress, sitting up and brushing your hair out of your face. He towers over you with his arms crossed, the glint back in his eye and a dark smirk plastered on his face.

“Now that I have the chance to ask,” he begins, eyeing you down, “what the hell was that?”

You let out a loud scoff and cross your arms and legs, half-mirroring his stance. “I don’t think you have the right to ask that question,” you shoot back.

He shrugs. “I was just returning the favor.”

“By dry humping me in front of all of our friends?” You ask through an incredulous laugh.

“I was just dancing.”

“Oh please.” You roll your eyes and lean back on your hands. “That’s your favorite way to fuck me.”

Hoseok throws his head back and laughs loudly. “Maybe…” He drops his arms and steps forward, running his hands over your thighs. “But they don’t know that.”

You roll your eyes again, even as your core twitches involuntarily at his touch. “I’m sure they do now,” you grumble under your breath.

He chuckles, gently uncrossing your legs and leaning down so his lips graze yours. “Good,” he mutters before crashing forward and pushing you into the mattress.

You gasp, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, making you sigh and briefly debate whether or not to challenge him. A quick test of the waters and a sharp nip to your lip later, you let out a soft whimper, lowering your guard and allowing him to take complete control.

His mouth trails across your jaw and down to your neck, taking your skin between his teeth. A moan slips out when his hand dips beneath your shirt, cool fingers sending shivers down your spine. Pushing the fabric over your ribs, he dives down and leaves open mouthed kisses across your stomach, dipping his tongue into your navel before dragging it up the center of your torso. Pulling back, he yanks his shirt off, and you gaze up at him with hooded eyes, biting your lip as you raked them over his lean form.

Smirking, he reaches out and nearly rips your shirt off your body before making quick work of your sports bra, swearing only slightly when the tight fabric catches around your arms.

“Smooth,” you comment with an airy laugh as he tosses it to the side.

“Fucking hate those,” he growls, descending on your lips once again to suck the air out of your lungs.

His hand trails over your skin, and you whimper when he runs a fingertip softly over your nipple, breaking away from him with a moan. Endless nights of exploration have enlightened him to the ways your body responds to his touch, and by far his favorite is the way you completely lose control at the lightest and most gentle caresses to your chest.

“Hobi,” you sigh, feeling the heat pool between your legs as he rolls your nipple slowly between his thumb and forefinger.

He hums and kisses his way down your sternum, peppering the flesh of your breasts with flicks of his tongue and soft nips of his teeth. Your back arches when he closes his mouth over a sensitive bud, tongue moving in mind numbing circles, his hand never leaving your other breast.

Desire burns in your core, and you rub your legs together, hissing as your shorts tug against your arousal. You let out a needy moan and give his shoulder a light push, trying to get the message across.

His chuckle against your chest makes you bite your lip. “Alright, alright,” he chides, pressing a soft kiss to each of your nipples before locking eyes with you and dragging his tongue down your body to the hem of your shorts.

Your breath hitches as he runs his fingers over the ticklish space just below your stomach. Eyelids fluttering, you watch him grip your shorts and tug them, along with your underwear, off your hips.

Staring between your legs, he bites his lip and runs a finger between your soaked folds, making you whimper.

“Damn, babygirl,” he mutters, licking your slick off his digit. “I haven’t even done anything yet.”

You kick him in the arm none-too-lightly with the side of your foot, and he grins as he dives in, dragging his tongue up the length of your slit. He swallows down your arousal and gives your clit a harsh suck before pulling back in time to watch you let out a moan that twists your face in a way that makes his dick twitch noticeably in his sweats.

Licking his lips, he gazes down at you, holding you steady under the heat of his eyes. Then something registers in his face, and he suddenly pulls you up and off the bed. You shoot him a curious look as he takes your place with his head towards the foot of the bed.

“C’mere,” he says, motioning at you lazily with two fingers.

You comply and allow him to manhandle your legs until you are straddling his stomach. His hands run up your thighs, thumbs massaging circles into the junctures of your hips, before one hand grazes over your stomach, up to your chest, then back down. You yelp when he presses into your clit without warning, rubbing slow circles that have you rocking your hips against his abs as you brace yourself on his chest in a way that pushes your breasts together obscenely.

“Damn, what a view,” he remarks, and you can’t hide your flush at his downright predatory grin. With a slight cock of his head, his smile grows wider. “Look up, babygirl.”

You gasp audibly when you catch sight of yourself in the mirror that stretches the length of the bedroom wall, hair mussed, cheeks pink, and eyes hazy with need. He chuckles at your reaction and nudges you up his body until you are hovering over his face. With a touch of uncertainty, you glance down at him, but he just strokes your thigh soothingly.

“Don’t look so stressed. I got it.”

“But Hobi–“

“Just keep yourself up,” he cuts in, a slight edge to his voice.

You swallow and nod, resting your hands backwards on your waist as he shifts your thighs further apart until his nose is touching just above your slit. His breath on your wetness makes you shudder, and you aren’t prepared for the way he darts his tongue into your entrance, gathering your arousal before swiping his way up to your clit and circling it with your juices.

Your stomach clenches and you almost fall forward off the edge of the bed. You have to fight to stay upright as he repeats his actions twice more, leaving you a moaning mess above him.

“Goddamn, you taste so fucking good,” he groans, moving his hands to your ass and massaging the flesh.

You whimper, hands dropping to curl in his hair. His tongue slips over your lips and he nibbles on the flesh, making you keen. It’s almost painful the way he flicks between your folds, dipping into your entrance and kissing everywhere except where you need him. When his fingers come up to spread you so he can drag his tongue flat over your core only to stop just short of your clit, you cry out.

“Fu-uck, please,” you pant, legs shaking furiously, and you desperately want something in front of you to hold yourself up. “Hobi–“ your breath catches your throat when he slips a finger inside you, curling it at just the right angle to have you dropping down an inch.

Almost immediately he removes his hand and stares up at you with raised eyebrows. You protest at the loss of contact, but he merely pinches the back of your thigh firmly. “You better not suffocate me if you wanna come.”

You look down at him, forcing away your frustration, and nod, catching your lip between your teeth as you shift back up. Fighting away the burn in your legs, you fix your gaze on the apex of your thighs in the mirror. With a hum of approval, he pushes two fingers into your folds, and you let out a cry, flexing your stomach as you force yourself to stay upright.

He pumps his fingers at a rapid pace, drawing your clit into his mouth and sucking relentlessly. Moans fall freely from your lips as the coil of heat deep in your core grows to an unbearable ache.

“Hobi, fuck, I’m gonna–“

But just as you prepare to ride out the waves of your release, he drops his hand, and you tumble backwards down the mountain of pleasure. You gasp in frustration, looking down at him helplessly.

“Why,” you whimper, barely refraining from smacking his head and pulling some of his hair out.

He tilts his head to look at you, fingers tracing your thigh and dragging your wetness over your skin. Without responding, he holds your weakening gaze and presses kiss after kiss to your clit, making you pant through short shocks of pleasure. Core clenching around nothing, you run a quivering hand through your dampening hair as your heart pounds and your thighs scream.

“H-Hobi,” you say, voice audibly shaking.

“Yes, babygirl?” You can feel his breath, hot against your inner thigh.

“I n-need to hold o-onto something,” you breathe, the burn in your legs bordering on nauseating.

“You need it?” He inquires, and you let out a whimper of affirmation. “And I need a new sound system for the studio, but you don’t hear me complaining.”

His retort has you whining in protest, but you are cut off by his tongue once again licking into your folds, and your mind flatlines as you fight against the cry of your muscles. His tongue draws figure eights along your entrance, and you can’t help but rock your hips across his face, whimpering every time his nose brushes near your clit.

“Fuck,” you moan, long and drawn out, when he moves north and abuses your nub with quick flicks, pace increasing and decreasing randomly. The pace of your hips quickens, and you bury your hands in his hair, eyes fixed almost unseeingly on your reflection.

He grunts into your folds, and the vibrations sending your eyes fluttering shut as the pleasure builds for a second time. Tightening your grip on his locks, your moans grow louder and more earnest as you chase your high, rutting your core onto his tongue.

But just as you begin to tip, he draws back, and this time you crash down from your almost-climax, slumping forward until you are precariously supporting yourself on the edge of the bed with a shameless whine.

“Hobi!” You wail, shudders wracking your body.

“I’m here,” he shoots back, almost mockingly, but you are too far gone and desperate to attack him with any of the hefty handful of comebacks you have stored away in that special compartment of your brain.

“Look at yourself,” he mutters against your skin, and you force your eyes back on your reflection, taking in how your stomach clenches and your thighs shake around his head. Your eyes look completely gone, and the image makes you dizzy. “You look so fucking gorgeous like this, do you really think I’m just gonna let you come?”

You can only whimper, eyes squeezing shut. “Please, Hobi, please,” you beg, trying to push yourself into his face.

A harsh smack bounces off the walls as his palm comes into contact with your ass, making you cry out loudly. “Nuh-uh,” he growls, gripping your flesh, “Stay. Up.”

Gathering yourself, you try to steady your breathing. “Hobi…”

“Hm?” His tongue licks a stripe over one of your outer lips, and your head spins.

“Hobi, I s-swear to god, I really will suffocate you i-if you don’t let me h-hold onto something.”

You feel his huff of silent laughter against your clit. “Are you threatening me?”

“I’m warning you–“ you break off with a cry as he latches onto the sensitive nub and sends stars across your vision.

Your thighs begin to give out as you grind your hips into his tongue, one hand tangling in your hair, the other grasping at your breasts, desperate to hold onto something, anything. As his tongue continues its onslaught, your stomach tightens. Your breath catches in your throat as you lose control, letting your full weight fall on his face as you chase your high.

Another sharp slap lands against your hip, ripping you from your haze as the pressure disappears, and you sob as the pleasure ebbs to a dull throb, core clenching violently. You quickly shift to the side when he gives you another smack, revealing his highly unamused expression boring into you as he catches his breath.

Equally winded, you fall against the sheets with a broken moan, legs screaming in painful relief. “I warned you.”

In a split second, his sweats and briefs are on the floor. You whimper as he yanks you back onto quivering knees and spins you to face the mirror, forcing your chin up so you can see him hovering behind you. His tongue runs up the side of your neck until he is sucking at the spot behind your ear, making you keen. Taking your lobe into his mouth, he rolls the flesh between his teeth.

“You really want to come that bad?” His grip on your hip tightens.

“Please,” you moan out, fingers bent around his forearm, thighs shaking. There is no way you will be able to keep yourself upright.

He chuckles into your ear, smoothing his palm over your quivering thighs. “I got you,” he whispers before hooking his arm firmly around your waist, supporting you.

Dropping his hand from your chin, he reaches down to dip into your entrance, feeling your wetness between his fingers. He lets out a groan, and you are suddenly aware of his hardened cock pressing into your ass. Normally, you would have given your hips an experimental wiggle, but the cloud in your mind is heavy, and your limbs are too strung out to do anything but submit. Instead, you let your head fall forward, panting as he drags his finger between your folds, circling your clit lightly.

But then his hand is gone, and you cry out. “Fuck. You. Hoseok,” you sob, flinging your head back and digging it into his shoulder, doing your best to glare at his reflection.

“That’s more like it,” he hums, before latching onto your neck and sucking a hickey into the soft skin. His hand dives back down, barely grazing your clit before plunging two fingers into your wetness.

You clench around the digits, moaning when he curls them into your walls. The arm around your waist shifts, and you feel pressure on your nipple as he rolls the bud gently between his fingertips the way you liked it, the way that has your breath leaving you in needy whimpers. The sensation is intense, but it is not enough, and you whine.

“Hm? What is it? What do you want?” His voice is low, taunting.

You can’t formulate a response, eyes rolling back as he removes his fingers to rub tight circles over your clit. A loud moan fills the room as you buck your hips into his hand.

“You want my cock, babygirl?” He breathes, nuzzling into your ear. “Want me to finally fuck you?”

You nod violently against his shoulder, digging your nails into his arm.

“Please.”

With a growl, he grips your hips and guides you down onto his cock in one swift motion, groaning into your ear when his hips meet your ass. The sound you let out is a mixture of satisfaction and discomfort as he stretches you, and you clench around him, making him hiss.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he groans, and you can feel him swallow as he nuzzles into your neck.

“Hobi…” Your voice is ragged, and you meet his eyes in the mirror so he can see the unfiltered need in your own, mustering just enough coherency to push your hips back against his.

He draws back in response before snapping forward roughly, and you let out a long, drawn out moan as he starts a relentless pace. The arm around your waist tightens so he can bounce you on his cock, while his other hand roams your body, slipping over your curves.

“Shit, Hobi,” you gasp and reach up to thread your fingers in his hair, eliciting a pleasured groan from his lips as they find purchase on your shoulder.

Your eyes glaze over as you watch the scene in the mirror, barely recognizing the flushed and completely fucked out person staring back at you. Hair plastered to your forehead, crimson marks painting your neck and shoulders, body trembling from the force of Hoseok’s thrusts, you can only gaze at the image and whimper loudly, eyes inevitably falling shut.

For what feels like the millionth time, the pleasure begins to peak, and your voice cracks with the telltale sign that you are close, his grunts in your ear spurring you on.

“You close?” He growls.

“Yes,” you choke out, tightening your grip in his hair. But then his hips slow a fraction, and your eyes snap open. “No, fuck, god, please, don’t stop, I’m going to kill you,” you sob, voice broken and slurred, your entire body vibrating with the need to find your release.

Grunting, he suddenly pushes you forward until your ear is against the mattress. With your ass in the air, he resumes his punishing pace, his hand traveling up your back to find purchase in your hair and press your head further into the sheets.

The fabric muffles your cries as the new angle allows him to hit the sensitive spot within you, each thrust leaving you breathless and begging as your nails dig into your palms.

“Please, please, please,” you chant, tears gathering at the corners of your eyes as your cheek ruts against the mattress.

Hoseok growls above you, landing a sharp, but not painful, slap on your ass. “Words, babygirl,” he pants, voice low and gravelly.

You can barely form a coherent thought, but you manage to force the words out of your ruined lips. “Please,” you breathe, “please make me come.”

“Good girl.”

You barely registered the pleased smirk on his face in the mirror before his hand is snaking around you and locating your clit.

It is barely ten seconds before you are crashing headlong into your orgasm, convulsing around his cock with a broken moan. The pleasure blinds you, flooding your limbs, and you clutch at the sheet, knuckles white and legs shaking violently. He continues to thrust into you as your body goes limp, chasing his own high, and you sob at the stimulation, prompting him to pull out and finish himself on your back with a strangled groan. You whimper as his release hits your skin, a shiver running up your spine.

Stars dance behind your closed lids as you try to catch your breath, too spent to even pull your legs out from under yourself, though they scream at you. But you feel a palm run soothingly over the side of your thigh, and you let Hoseok stretch you out until you are flat on your stomach, relief surging through your muscles.

“Thank you,” you whisper, and you feel his lips press into to the back of your thigh before his weight lifts off the bed.

You are slowly slipping into unconsciousness when a damp cloth runs over your back. Opening your eyes, you see Hoseok toss the cloth into the hamper before returning to help you roll onto your back. He fixes you with a smile and falls with a thud next to you, shifting so he can hover and press several kisses to your lips. You sigh, wanting to reach up and touch his face, but your arms refuse to cooperate.

“You ok?” He inquires, cradling you against him, trailing a hand up and down your limp arm.

You exhale heavily, eyes flitting shut. “I can’t move.”

He smirks against your shoulder. “I’m sorry…I warned you,” he murmurs, and you roll your eyes behind closed lids.

“Shut up,” you retort, mind slowly starting to clear. Opening your eyes, you come face to face with his huge, cheeky grin, and you can’t fight the weak “fuck you” that leaves your lips. But that just makes his smile grow, and he captures your lips once more before moving to locate his briefs.

“Are you hungry?” He asks, pulling the fabric up his honeyed thighs, and even though you are completely spent, the image still sends a jolt between your legs.

“Not gonna lie, Hobi, I’m not much of anything right now,” you reply in complete deadpan, and he laughs loudly.

“Well, I’m hungry. Do you want me to stay with you?” His question comes with a serious crinkle of his forehead, and you manage to shake your head.

“No, do what you want,” you mutter, closing your eyes once again. You really just want to sleep, even if you knock out completely exposed on top of the comforter.

“Ok.” Hoseok chuckles. “Find me when you can move again?”

You hum, peeking at him through your heavy lids.

His smile paints his face once again, and he pulls his sweats on before bending to cradle your face between his palms, pressing gentle kisses across your face until he reaches your lips, lingering there for a long moment.

“I love you,” he whispers against your mouth, and your own smile tugs at your eyes.

“I love you, too,” you whisper back, and you swear he radiates sunshine as he pecks your forehead and prances out of the room.

A split second later, you hear him belting out a terrible rendition of something you’re sure is a Top 40s track you didn’t recognize as he shuffles around the kitchen.

Letting his chirping voice wash over your lead-like body, you stare up at the ceiling with a weak incredulity, forever unable to process how the man-child outside the room is the same man who can leave you wrecked and unable to move on your own bed.

It is truly the contradiction of the century.

© uhgood-dooghu/moodievitamine, written May 2020. Please do not copy, repost, or translate!