#good god i hope u have that tag blocked

[yinyuedijun]

big jjk spoilers

it's almost 4:30 and I'm finally done reading the gojo vs sukuna fight. I actually do think this addresses a lot of the reasons I was never really taken by gojo's character and also why I always felt lukewarm about the thematic progression of the series. despite the fandom's somewhat negative opinion of gege's writing, I actually do think when you look past the clumsiness and obvious burnout, it is heading toward a coherent thematic arc and gojo was a part of that. I like that he died and I think he died well. I think his and sukuna's deaths were also always a given tbh lol and I'm interested in seeing how sukuna's will play out. this may be a controversial opinion but I think gege does know how to write a good death (though he's written a lot of not good ones lol). I have a lot of thoughts but I gotta pass out now lol. please do not hate me for my thots btw remember I am a nobody in jjk fandom 👍

[dove-skulls]

grrrrr cant create my new dev logs blog until lunch so I'm angry

[love-belle]

tujhe kitna chahne lage !!!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ in which the entire world is convinced that they do not like each other but it's actually quite the opposite.

or

for when they make you go crazy in a good way. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

social media au // lando norris x fem!reader

warnings - language

author's note - another desi!reader bc why the fuck not!!!!!! hope you like it, i love you so much <3

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by lilymhe, carmenmmundt, landonorris and 758,427 others

yourusername lando norizz said i sparkled (derogatory)

tagged landonorris

6,829 comments

username NAH MARRY ME RN

username sirf ek chance plzzz (just one chance please)

username MAATE???? ( mother )

username OH MY GOD

username nah im in love what yhe fuxk

carmenmmundt you shine ❤️‍🔥

*liked by yourusername*

username THAT LEHNGA THOUGH

username traditional clothes hit different and that's just facts

username hayeee nazar na lage ( no evil eye )

username SHE ATE AND LEFT NO CRUMBS

username lando rn: ur a vampire

-> username forgive me in my head that was wayyyyy more funny

username marry me PLEASE

carlossainz55 i'm blinded

-> yourusername STOP MAKING FUN OF MY SEQUINS

-> landonorris only i'm allowed to make fun of her so back off sainz

-> carlossainz55 child i taught you everything you know now

-> landonorris OMG DAD STOP EMBARASSING ME

-> yourusername i'm blocking both of u

username she's so W

username traditions attire 🔛🔝

username i love all the drivers just randomly popping up on her post and leaving after pissing her off like that's MY source of entertainment and serotonin

username mother slays 🔥🔥🔥

mickschumacher your aunt (???) is setting me up with her daughter help

-> yourusername walk AWAY

username not the desi aunties trying to play matchmaker 💀💀💀

username i love her so much omg

username waiting for lando's comments before going on with my day like it's the morning news or something

landonorris you DO sparkle

-> landonorris disco light like looking witch

-> yourusername i'm honestly gonna go and tell lewis that ur being mean to me

-> landonorris WAIT NO

landonorris you sparkle (🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮)

-> yourusername here lewishamilton

-> lewishamilton lando no

-> landonorris I WASN'T EVEN DOING ANYTHING

landonorris imagine wearing silver on silver

-> yourusername you wear dumb on stupid everyday do u see me complaining

-> usernme nah she gagged him

landonorris boo 👎👎👎

-> yourusername ur so obsessed with me ☺️☺️☺️🥰🥰🥰❤️❤️❤️ go on 🔥🔥🔥🗣️🗣️🗣️🙏🙏🙏 log out 💯💯💯❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥😘😘😘

username they make me so ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

username i want what they have

username just make out already

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by yourusername, carlossainz55, pierregasly and 789,514 others

landonorris when y/n managed to *not* burn the kitchen down while boiling water

tagged yourusername

7,826 comments

username lando babe this js proves that you're all sunshine and smiles when it comes to her

username they hate each other???? lol

username nah what in the enemies to lovera shit is this

username HIS SMILE OMG

username sunshine boy

username he's so adorable

username nah they're definitely together

charles_leclerc says the one who burned the hello kitten mittens

-> landonorris IT WAS AN ACCIDENT and YOUR hello kitty mittens

-> charles_leclerc LANDO WE AGREED TO KEEP THAT OFF THE INTERNET

-> username me randomly discovering that charles loves hello kitty in the comments of a post about y/n from lando is so wild if u think about it

username hiii im new to f1 can someone please explain who y/n is and why do lando and her hate each other :)

-> username ofc angel <3 she's the daughter of one of the BIGGEST sponsors for f1 and she's like very close with most of the drivers and their partners and attends as many races as she can!!!!

-> username lando and her have had a very *rocky* relationship since the beginning bc the first time they met, lando pushed her into the pool and then she pushed him into a fountain so !!

-> username they're all currently in india atm bc y/n's sister is getting married and it's like the event of the decade!!!!!!!

-> username NO BC THAT FOUNTAIN CLIP WOULD FOREVER BE ICONIC

danielricciardo this is not helpful in beating the crush allegations !

-> landonorris shut the fuck up !

username he's so ☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️

username not danny ric calling him out

username this comments section is WILD

username they're together idgaf they HAVE to be

username atp they're just playing with us

username no bc lando and y/n are SO iconic like from the moment they met to here like all of their public interactions are so entertaining

-> username one of them is always ready to throw hands with the other one and most of the time it's y/n

-> username nah bc i know my girl is DONE with his shit

yourusername you forgot how to crack an egg.

-> landonorris YOU CRACKED AN EGG ON MY FOREHEAD

-> yourusername HOW IS THAT RELEVANT RIGHT NOW

yourusername *when y/n is actually the love of my life

-> landonorris hahahahahahaha!!!!!!! babe what!!!!!!!!!

-> danielricciardo both of you are so dumb 😭😭😭

-> maxverstappen1 oh my god

-> charles_leclerc what just happened

-> username "babe" SAY WHAT

username im gonna go and walk my fish

-> username i suddenly need to iron air

username they're idiots (affectionate)

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by lewishamilton, carmenmmundt, landonorris and 897,527 others

yourusername tujhe kitna chahne lage ( just how much i love you )

tagged landonorris

comments are disabled for this post

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc, danielricciardo and 897,426 others

landonorris she's mean but she buys me chocolate so ❤️

tagged yourusername

9,457 comments

username AHHHSHHSHSHD

username i am not okay

username IM SO

username HER.

username im heartbroken 💔💔💔💔💔💔 both of my parasocial relationships gone just like that

username nah bc she can fuck me up and i would say thank u and sorry for wasting your time

maxverstappen1 she's mean to all of us but she doesn't get us shit

-> yourusername aren't you like a millionaire

-> maxverstappen1 SO ARE YOU

-> yourusername lol i get p and kelly chocolates

-> kellypiquet 🥰

-> maxverstappen1 you're never getting to babysit p ever again

-> yourusername WAIT NO I'M SO SORRY

username they both said fuck soft launch

username ENEMIES TO LOVERS

username apna time aayega ( our time will come )

danielricciardo idk she makes me chai

-> landonorris didn't she almost hit you with a rolling pin because you said "chai tea"

-> yourusername it was honestly so deserved

-> danielricciardo i am TRAUMATIZED

username LOOK!! AT!! THEM!!

username we've come so far oh my god

username y/n posting a couple dumb pictures of lando and a cute one of them together and then disabling the comments while lando posts these MASTERPIECES is so on brand of them

-> username cool gf 🤝 obsessed bf

yourusername i am NOT mean

-> landonorris sure

-> yourusername im not!!!!!!!!!!

-> landonorris sure!!!!!!!!!

yourusername love u ig

-> landonorris guess again

-> yourusername I LOVE YOU SOOO MUCH

-> landonorris k

-> yourusername blocked

yourusername hey ur kinda pretty

-> landonorris hey you're very pretty

username THESE BITCHES

username i feel like i've entered an alternate dimension

username ngl im gonna miss y/n and lando shit talking each other

[httpsserene]

love your workkkkkkkk 🤍

can i request a smau with carlos or lance and a plus size reader?

𝐡𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 - 𝐜𝐬. 𝟓𝟓

summary: from photo shoots to spontaneous vacation changes; carlos loves you loudly. content warning: fluff. plussize!reader. reader is a model. light profanity. attempt at humor. body positive. one negative comment about reader’s body. couples vacation. loverboy carlos sainz jr. getting engaged.  pairing: carlos sainz jr x fem!black!reader (fc: precious lee) genre: smau.

from serene: in honor of carlos signing for...*checks notes* williams!!! currently sobbing about logan as i am a fellow florida born but, i will make sure to support him whether or not he's on the grid next year, or in indycar, or anywhere else < 3. it's a relatively short smau from me but, i hope you all enjoy it the same xxx

⌕ join taglist | requests & feedback | table of contents ↻

twitter • ynmodels

igstory • ynmodels uploaded!

[caption1; lighting check- felt cute might delete later][caption2; please stop threatening to get get me pregnant in my dms (i have a bf)]

carlossainz55: you could have been cute with me in melbourne ⤷ynmodels: i'll let you explain me ghosting my cover shoot to the magazine ⤷carlossainz55: is the love of your life missing you AND his appendix not a good excuse

user1: how many of my kids r u willing to have? ⤷user1: im serious btw haha

user2: bbg 🫦 lemme knock you up (i'm a girl)

user3: shhhhhh don't pretend like you don't want to have 8 kids with me 🤫 ⤷ynmodels: 8 KIDS??? you're blocked LMFAO

instagram • ynmodels • march 25th

liked by carlossainz55, harpersbazaarus, zendaya, and 93,562 others

ynmodels never thought i would be angry about having a cover shoot, but when it means i miss my boyfriend's third race win? i'm enraged‼️so, so, so proud of you, carlos! wish i was there to see you up on that top step! (thank you to harper's bazaar for putting me on the front page 💖)

tagged: harpersbazaarus, dolcegabbana, carlossainz55

view comments

carlossainz55: vamossssssssssssssss mami

➥ ynmodels: ¡VAMOS! 😍😍😍😍😍

carlossainz55: hermosa 🥰

liked by ynmodels

carlossainz55: i'm ordering multiples of this magazine

➥ user4: spectacular, give me 14 of them right now 🤲🏻

user5: i'm no better than a man 😮‍💨

➥ user6: good googly moogly 👀

➥ user7: i dunno if im jealous of her or carlos tbh 😵‍💫

user8: MOTHER 😩

➥ ynmodels: 💅🏾💅🏾💅🏾💅🏾

user9: carlos gets his appendix removed, wins the australian gp, and then gets to go home to a fine ass woman

➥ user10: god may never say that he has favorites but there are signs smh 🤦🏿‍♀️

➥ user11: omm i hope he treats her like the queen she is 🥴

alexandrasaintmleux: don't ask me the color of ANYTHING

➥ charlesleclerc: bebe what are u talking about??? pink is clearly her color 🙄

➥ carlossainz55: the dress is black 😐 @/ynmodels block them.

twitter • ynmodels

instagram • carlossainz55 • runway ⚑

liked by fashionweek, charlesleclerc, lewishamilton, and 2,313,475 others

carlossainz55 off week is fashion week 🚶🏻‍♂️

tagged: ynmodels

view comments

user12: just fell to my knees in the middle of my lecture hall 🧎🏼‍♀️

➥ user13: completely understandable

➥ user14: slammed my head on a table in the middle of the library and got kicked out IJBOLLLLL

user15: are y'all looking for a third ???!!!

➥ carlossainz55: absolutely not 😂

lewishamilton: nice to see you guys off the track ✌🏾

➥ ynmodels: it was! can't wait for nyfw with you 🤗🤗

➥ user16: i know carlos curled up into the fetal position absolutely tweaking rn 💀

➥ user17: if lewis hamilton took my girl i wouldn't even be mad about it 🤷🏾‍♂️

user18: thicker than a bowl of oatmeal 🤤

➥ user19: double cheeked up on a thursday afternoon 😣

➥ user20: she has no business walking around like that

➥ user18: like i'm not going to salivate like a dog 🦮

user21: she's what the greek godddesses wished they looked like

➥ ynmodels: this is the best compliment about my body i've ever received 🥹

user22: i know carlos CANNOT handle allat 😂

➥ carlossainz55: i have two hands for a reason.

➥ ynmodels: i'm a healthy handful what can i say 😚

imessage • carlos -> yn

instagram • ynmodels • en vogue ⚑

liked by voguemagazine, carlossainz55, jeanpaulgaultier, and 1,994,320 others

ynmodels manifested this very achievement! so honored to be on the cover of vogue AND to do it wearing louis vuitton and chanel; only up from here < 333

tagged: voguemagazine, chanelofficial, louisvuitton

view comments

landonorris: VOGUEEEEEEE ⁉️⁉️

➥ ynmodels: VOGUEEEEEEE LANDOOOO

➥ landonorris: nobody has done it better 😌

➥ ynmodels: ate them for breakfast 😋

➥ user23: literally.

➥ landonorris: don't do too much now @/user23

➥ ynmodels: no bc i'm wondering who TF asked u @/user23

carlossainz55: mi amor, i think i'm crying ☹️

➥ ynmodels: don't cry because i'll cry

➥ carlossainz55: i'm weak my eyes are watering 🥹

➥ ynmodels: you absolutely softy STOP!!!

➥ ynmodels: you're gonna make me ruin my makeup 😣😖

franciscacgomes: OMFGGGGGGG 🤩

➥ ynmodels: i knowwwwwwww

➥ alexandrasaintmleux: 💛💛💛💛

➥ lilymhe: i'm getting this edition framed 💯

voguemagazine: same time next year?

➥ carlossainz55: YES !!!

➥ ynmodels: i'd be honored 😲

➥ user24: where's her vogue video on youtube? I NEED IT

chanelofficial: kiss marks on the cover already 💋

➥ louisvuitton: with hearts drawn on it too 💓

➥ ynmodels: thank you both so much 🫂🫂🫂

lewishamilton: 🫡

zendaya: passed out when i saw this! about time girllll 🥵

➥ ynmodels: yes ma'ammmmmm 😤

igstory • ynmodels uploaded!

[caption1; sorry girls, not giving these away :) a few presents from carlos][caption2; might let him hit tonight ngl]

user25: if he wanted to he would energy>>>>>

user26: shit tell him to save some flowers for the rest of us 😧 user26: where are you even going to put all of those??? ⤷ynmodels: i keep them around the house, and dry all the flowers to keep them! ⤷ynmodels: nobody's ever gotten me flowers before him so i cherish each and every petal 🤭

pierregasly: take that first photo down before kika sees it pls 🙏🏻 ⤷ynmodels: oh did you say ft kika as i open every bag? and smell every rose? i'd be happy too pierre 🙃

carlossainz55: it's really not enough to show how much i'm proud of you 🙂‍↔️ ⤷ynmodels: carlos please ⤷ynmodels: i don't need anything besides you

instagram • carlossainz55 • somewhere in greece ⚑

liked by marcmarquez93, landonorris, carlossainzofficial, and 2,277,921 others

carlossainz55 escapada tranquila

tagged: ynmodels

view comments

user27: if you don't sit down in that damn car 🤬

➥ ynmodels: carlos told me to stand! yell at him not me ✋🏾

➥ user28: oh so if carlos jumps off a bridge you would too?

➥ ynmodels: expeditiously 😤 i'd backflip off it too 🤸🏾‍♀️

user29: why do we only speak about carlos' gf when this is his post 🤨

➥ user30: “carlos’ gf” don’t be disrespectful. she has a name ☺️

➥ user31: cause she's barbie! and he's just ken 😇 hope that helps 🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️

landonorris: having fun carlos 😃

➥ carlossainz55: cabron please shut up

➥ landonorris: damn a man can't ask if his friend is having a nice time on vacation 😞

charlesleclerc: everything going to plan?

➥ ynmodels: there's a plan?

➥ user32: what plan???

➥ carlossainz55: my plan to take you to see dolphins, is what he's talking about 😅

➥ ynmodels: ooooooh wait let me plug in my camera battery!

➥ user32: i wanna see dolphins :(

maxverstappen: don't chicken out mate 😿

➥ oscarpiastri: i will never let you live that down 😈

➥ ynmodels: why are we bullying my boyfriend?

➥ carlossainz55: i have no idea what they're talking about

user33: first photo could pass as professional ngl

➥ ynmodels: i said the same thing!

➥ user34: carlos takes the best photos of her hand down

➥ user35: best photos of the best model 👏🏽👏🏽👏🏽

twitter • ynmodels

instagram • ynmodels • WE'RE GETTING MARRIED ⚑

liked by lilymhe, scuderiaferrari, charlesleclerc, and 1,483,294 others

ynmodels im cryiubg omg we're emgagedddd i didn't get to the bottom of shit I LOVE LOVE LPVE LOVE LVE LOVE LOVE YOU CARLOS SAINZ JR 💍💍💍💍💍

tagged: carlossainz55

carlossainz55: te amo mas que nada en el mundo

➥ ynmodels: i can't believe this still

➥ carlossainz55: i'll remind you every day 🥰

landonorris: congratsss 🥹🥹🥹

louisvuitton: stunned! but not surprised 😌

fransicacgomes: oh my god! i knew something shifted!!!!

jeanpaulgaultier: please allow me to go wedding dress shopping with you 😅

➥ ynmodels: i was thinking abou asking you for a custom?

➥ jeanpaulgaultier: i really wanted to hear you ask first, we'll talk soon < 3

charlesleclerc: so happy for you both! almost strangled carlos when he told me that he lost the ring haha 😂

➥ ynmodels: he lost the ring????

➥ carlossainz55: i *misplaced* it for like three minutes and panicked ok

maxverstappen1: can't wait for the wedding 😻

alexandrasaintmleux: im screaminggggg 🤯🤯🤯

voguemagazine: 🥳🥳🥳

lewishamilton: about time carlos!!!

➥ carlossainz55: only took me three attempts 🥴

➥ ynmodels: three???

➥ carlossainz: you make me nervous 🫣

oscarpiastri: congrats!

zendaya: that ring looks HEAVYYYY 😮‍💨🥴

➥ ynmodels: oh you can't miss it baby 🥱👅

harpersbazaarus: oooooh happy for you babes💋💋💋

carlossainzofficial: welcome to the family, officially!

comments on this post have been limited.

© httpsserene 2024

[uncouth-the-fifth]

click, p.2 - Sam Winchester/Reader

read it on ao3.

Pairing: Sam Winchester/Reader (late s5) Tags/Warnings: angst, love confessions, romantic sex, oral sex/cunnilingus, (aka, Sam pussy addiction: the shequel), Sam is Lucifer's vessel, reader is AFAB. Word Count: ~11k. Notes: i was commissioned for the second time by the lovely @daffodil-mania, who wanted a continuation of her last fic set during the "say yes" era of s5. (sooooo dangerous to let me put my grubby hands on this version of Sam, btw). i cannot express how BUCK FUCKING WILD uncouth-nation went for the first part of this fic, so this is for all the wonderful people who gushed over click, commented, threw me some kudos, or even just read it and liked it. lots of love, and i hope you enjoy <3 i did my best to rip out your soul as best i could. THIS CAN STAND ON IT'S OWNNN AHHH. i mean. if u wanna read it <3 Ask to be added to my taglists for future posts!

FIVE YEARS LATER

The walk from the bus stop to your apartment is a safe and easy seven minutes. If you were any other person in any other world, you’d glide onto the bus after your night shift at the university, hop off at your stop, and bumble toward your apartment without a single care in the world. Maybe stare at your phone the whole walk back. Text a hot guy who isn’t the physical manifestation of the devil on earth. Normal stuff.

But this is your life, so you sit front seat on the bus, hands in your lap, tapping a nervous beat against the angel blade hidden in your book bag. The windows rattle in their frames and gleam with rain. You could get off at your stop and take those easy seven minutes home—but the bus driver could also be a demon, so.

Since you aren’t in the mood to die a slow death tonight, walking a few extra blocks to keep anybody from knowing where you live will have to work.

On day two of this, you’d called Dean and asked if you were being extra paranoid. He’d kindly pointed out: Extra-paranoid is just extra-survival. I dunno about you, but survivin’ a lil’ extra sounds fan-fuckin-tastic to me right about now.

He’s right. You know he’s right. But it still doesn’t feel like a good answer, and that makes you picture Sam, twenty-three and still bright-eyed, running his fingers down your bare back and scowling. I’m sick of surviving. One of these days, I want to actually live my life.

But that had been before the apocalypse, before Dean’s deal, before everything. Sam was a different man now. Hunting had reached into all three of you and ripped all sorts of things out, but you would never forgive it for taking Sam’s hope for something better. God, you missed that Sam. You missed him more than anything.

The city bus lumbers up to the curb and spits you out onto the sidewalk, where you superstitiously hover, waiting for the other passengers crawling away from their night shifts to scatter. It’s only when the bus is a dark spot in the mist down the street that you start to walk, your whole body caked head to toe with oily rain. 

This time, you take a random left toward your apartment and serpentine street-to-street, never walking the exact same way the same week. By the time you’re closer to where the bus could’ve actually dropped you off, the lingering smell of old research books has been practically power-washed out of your clothes. You try to think of anything but the freezing, biting, face-stinging rain… and, like a moth to a flame, your mind floats back to Sam.

It’s been over two weeks since he dropped the nuclear option. Over two weeks ago, Sam wanted to say yes to Lucifer, and over two weeks have passed since the massive, unstoppable-force-meets-immovable-object fight that’d erupted as a result.

Dean had blown up. Sam had pushed. You’d burst into tears and clawed into Sam just as deep, because why, why would he ever go there—why would that even be a fathomable possibility in his mind? Did he really think so low of himself? How could he ever give up like that? How could he leave you—?

The worst part was easily the way Sam had reacted. With Dean or John, he could yell himself hoarse, but when it came to fighting you all he could do was sit and take it. He put his head down and nodded at everything you said, even the cruel things. In some ways it made you angrier, but also inconceivably, cosmically guilty. This was Sam’s choice. And of course, because this was Sam, his choice was to save the whole goddamn world. Not a single bone in your body carried that level of selflessness, yet Sam bled the stuff.

You were still furious with him, but only because being mad at him was the only option you had left. The right thing to do would be to tell Sam, I trust you to make this decision, this is your life, and let him take that jump… But you didn’t have it in you. Saying that felt like pushing him over the ledge yourself, or telling him you’d never cared about him in the first place. If you were angry at least you were still fighting for him in some way.

You’d been on board for everything—trying to find a way out of Dean’s deal, trying to kill Lilith, everything. But the argument with Sam had torn out the final piece of you that could stand this, so you packed a bag, told Dean you’d be in a strict research-only role, and booked it back to your hometown. It was cowardly and stupid and beyond selfish, but you knew your stance. The hunt had taken everything from you. You refused to let it take Sam, too.

Maybe, Sam would take you stepping away as a serious sign to change his mind. You couldn’t imagine a world where Sam and his Winchester stubbornness would ever do that, but. It was a nice wish to hold onto.

By the time you make it up the steps to your apartment building, you’re soaked to the bone and audibly making pathetic shivering sounds. Your bookbag feels heavier than ever, digging a trench into your shoulder as you fish around for your keys. The second your apartment door is open the true weight of your exhaustion hits you—

—and then utterly disappears, replaced by a shock of pure adrenaline.

There’s a new pair of boots by your front door.

You catch the heavy door before it goes swinging against the doorjamb, straining your ears against the ringing silence. The bedside lamp is on in your room.

On dead-quiet feet, you slip in, click the door shut behind you, and slip off your bookbag. Your angel blade is in your hand in a second, but you risk a few extra steps toward your kitchen table to wiggle loose the pistol you taped underneath. Just the weight of your weapons in your hands flicks the hunter muscle memory back on in your body, and before you can think you’re hiding in the shadow beside your bedroom door. Listening.

Soft breathing. The pages of a book turning.

You know, instinctively, who it is—you would know him dumb and blind and dead. But these days, anybody could be piloting his body around.

You suck in a deep breath through your nose, heart throbbing in your ears. You wait until the fingers on your gun aren’t shaking anymore, then burst inside the room, slamming the door into the wall and whipping your pistol up to eye level.

Sam’s head flinches towards you. He is exactly as you saw him two weeks ago; solemn, determined, and open, the air around him practically steaming with safety and goodness. He’s sat comfortably on your bed, reading a book he brought with him. Despite everything, your belly still curls with butterflies when you lay eyes on him. Sam. Definitely Sam, and no one else.

Still, your paranoia has gotten you this far. You both stare at each other for a beat, equal parts scared out of your minds and relieved. Without a word, you keep your gun trained on him, and Sam lets you, his eyes big and understanding. You shuffle sideways to your dresser, and without turning away from him, pop open the top drawer and toss him the silver flask of holy water you keep hidden inside. 

He catches it. So, not a shapeshifter, then. Sam takes a drink of the holy water, even turning to the side so you can see the water go into his mouth. (A demon in Missouri had slipped past the three of you by pretending to sip—only Sam would know that.) You’re still a little terrified, but you manage to pull your weapons back down to your sides. You still don’t know what to say.

He’s really here. The part of you that had worried the argument with Sam would be your last wails with joy. He’s here, alive and in front of you. No matter how awkward you feel you can’t bring yourself to stop staring at him. By the buttery light of your bedside lamp, he literally glows with beauty, and you realize he’d scrubbed his boots off on your welcome mat to not track mud in, and he’d hung up his rain-soaked jacket in your shower to dry. Stupid polite Sam things.

You dare to glance back at your kitchen, then swivel to squint at him. “Did you… do my dishes?”

Sam lets his hands relax into his lap and nods, shy. He’s looking at you in a way he never really has before, eyes big and soul-rending. “…Yeah. I used the key you gave me to get in… Hope that’s okay.”

There’s another long pause. Usually when you stare at Sam, he doesn’t stare so intensely back, but you share a weird mutual moment where you just stand there and take each other in. It’s so obvious it’s painful, but if he’s doing it then you feel entitled to devour him with your eyes too.

“I got, uh, bored. Waiting for you,” Sam clarifies. “Thought I’d make myself useful.”

Sam stands from the bed. For a second you think he’s heading straight for you, but he moves toward the dresser behind you, kindly tucking the holy water back where it was stowed. You flit out of his way as fast as you can and set your weapons down on the closest available surface, feeling off-kilter. Why would he come here? Is he going to tell you that he changed his mind?

You hold onto the question, but you know it’s too out of character to hope for. Despair sinks into your gut like a rock in a pond. You know why Sam’s here. He would never make this decision without telling you first—without at least saying goodbye in person.

Your throat locks up with tears.

Behind you, Sam hums, “You changed your hair.”

Right. You’d altered it to be more undercover. You resist the urge to reach up and play with your hair, or give in to any of the fluttery feelings you always feel around Sam. “It’s safer.” Tightly, you ask him, “What are you doing here?”

Sam drags a long breath through his nose. You clutch the end of your bookshelf, your chest crumpling with misery. Please don’t say it. Please, please, lie to me if you have to.

“...I’m not taking the jump,” Sam breathes.

There’s more that he says after that. He talks about how you and Dean are right, and how, surely, after everything that the three of you have been through, there’s got to be another way to end this. You’ve always found another way in the past. Sam explains all this to you in a sure, quiet voice, like this is something he’s thought about for a long time, but you barely hear him after those first words. There’s this persistent tension in your chest that’s telling you that there’s something wrong here, but you don’t care—you don’t give a single fucking shit, because Sam—Sam isn’t saying yes. Sam’s staying.

“…are other ways I can make up for the mistakes I made,” he’s telling you, scrambling to fill the nagging silence.

You take a moment to force back your tears, and Sam, nervously, keeps talking.

He swallows, trying to smile. “I-I would’ve called and told you, but something tells me you wouldn’t have picked up.”

When you’ve got your bearings back, you push away from your bookshelf and turn to face him. Your legs are so leaden that you feel as if you have to physically pick up your body and drop it down the other direction, but you manage it. “What… what made you change your mind?”

Sam gets one look at your face and wilts with guilt. He doesn’t answer your question in words—just shoves his hands in his pockets and stares down at his feet, then around your room, as if his reason was in the air with the two of you. In the apartment. His eyes flicker over you just once, and you understand. Seeing you leave really had scared him.

“Be careful,” you start to joke with him, “you start validating my childish reactions and we’re gonna have a whole new set of problems on our hands.”

Sam scoffs. “It wasn’t childish to run away.”

You raise an eyebrow at his word choice, which gets an honest-to-god laugh out of him. A real good Sam Winchester laugh, dimples and all. The last dregs of anxiety in your gut melt at the sound, and Sam reassures you, shrugging, “You needed to get out. In case you forgot, I kind of invented wanting to get out. I understand. I really do.”

You know that he does. That’s not exactly going to stop you from feeling guilty about ditching them, but at least it kicked some sense into him. God. For the last five or six years, your every moment had been spent with Sam and his brother. Even just a couple weeks without him had drained you, and having him back only makes those feelings more clear. Sam’s presence commands the space in a way that turns your shitty, undecorated bedroom into someplace magical, someplace good and safe and warm, and just seeing him standing there draws the ache out of your spine.

Your reach out for his sleeve. Somehow, he’s more real than ever, a tangible person instead of the memory you’ve chased for so long.

“You’re really not saying yes?”

Sam unwinds your hand from the fabric so he can hold it instead, your fingers scooped in his fingers. You’re given a firm squeeze and are hypnotized by him in an instant, the world narrowing down to this moment between just him and just you.

Sam looks into your eyes when he promises, “I’m not going anywhere.”

The tears you’d resisted before return in one big, merciless wave. You’re so tired and the rain was so fucking cold and you’re so sick of being scared that Sam, thank god, Sam, is everything you could possibly need. He’s not going anywhere. Before you can stop yourself you’re clutching him for dear life, shoving your face in his shirt and crushing his body against yours. These last few weeks have submerged you in survival mode, and you don’t realize how deep until Sam pulls you out of the current. He’s warm and dry, and when you inhale to sob he smells like a 24-hour-laundromat, the Impala, and home home home. You could’ve lost that. You could’ve lost him.

“Th-thank you,” you choke out at nothing in particular, “thank you.”

You’ve cried a lot this week, so there are not many tears left to shed. Still, Sam holds you through all of them, swaying back and forth with you and cooing in your ear. You hear him sniffling too. When you’re both all sobbed out, you pull back to tell him you love him, to remind him of all the things he needs to hear, but Sam strangely doesn’t let you. The second he feels you pull away he clutches you back against him, and you get the uneasy impression that you’ve been comforting him more than he’s been comforting you. His whole body’s shaking.

Sam hugs you for longer than he ever has before. It’s a little worrying, but you’ve both needed it so much that you don’t even complain.

After a while, Sam slips back, and in traditional Winchester fashion tries to play off his vulnerability. He’s always been a dead-silent crier, so you have zero way to gauge how bad things are until you see his face. He looks like he’d sobbed his heart out. Your shirt is still wet from the rain, but even then you can feel Sam’s tears soaking your shoulder. Saying anything about it will just embarrass him, though.

“...I-I, uh,” you lick the tears off your lips, mumbling, “I don’t know bout’ you, but I’m beat. Do you have somewhere you gotta be, or,” you add hopefully, “or can you stick around?”

This is the part where Sam will start coaxing you to drive back with him to where he and Dean are holed up, you’re sure of it. You’re already plotting in your head what to pack and what to take, but Sam never brings it up. He doesn’t worry about tomorrow yet.

He presses his lips together. “I was hoping I could stay here tonight, actually.”

This is an even better answer. You’re nodding before he’s even finished the thought, stroking your hand down his chest. It twists your gut in knots to see him like this, so you start to steer the conversation toward something more playful, something less daunting to think about.

“You’re lucky I like you then,” you smirk. Somehow, you manage to peel yourself out of his bubble and teeter toward your dresser, scrubbing the tears off your face. “Make yourself comfortable. I dunno about you, but I’m getting the fuck out of these work clothes, I’m freezing. Do you need anything to sleep in? I’ve got at least five years of your stolen shirts in here.”

You hear him ease himself down on the end of your bed again, but there’s no sassy retort, sly comment, or any sort of line about you and your stealing habits. Instead, sweet and simple, he says, “I’ll just sleep in this. You can have them.”

Okay. Weird.

Since he didn’t take the bait, you throw out another line and try again. This time, you kick off your shoes, open a drawer, and turn back to him with two of his shirts in hand. “Really?” You wave them teasingly in the air. “You sure?”

They are some of his best shirts, easy. You’re not a cheap thief. The first is a holey, feather-soft Red Hot Chili Peppers tee, and the second is a deep maroon Stanford sweater. He has so few artifacts from that time in his life that there’s no way he won’t want this one back. Right?

But Sam just gazes at you, his whole face soft and loving as he says, “You should wear the Stanford one. It looks good on you.”

Those old hot-shivery feelings for him seep down your spine, and you feel in real-time how your cheeks flood with heat. Damn, okay. Consider yourself wooed.

You’ve been down this road with Sam many, many times—enough to know when he’s flirting with you. The forbidden labels had never been thrown around, but. Well. Sam had been your first time, as well as the many other times after that.

He’s usually leagues more subtle than his brother, but for whatever reason he’s pouring it on by the truckload tonight. When you turn around he’s nothing but big, happy puppy eyes, waiting patiently for you at the end of the bed. (Like you’re his girlfriend. Like anything about this is normal at all, and you and Sam are going to tuck into bed together like it’s any other night). Fuck, you missed him.

The bathroom is only a few steps away, but this is Sam, so you decide to just throw on your pajamas right here. Your shirt is so wet that it hits the floor with a slap. It also takes some experience to wring yourself out of your denim-turned-cement jeans, so it’s not the sexiest show in the entire world. Still, Sam’s gaze traces sensual lines down your back. You would rather go to literal, actual hell than wear your bra for a minute longer, so the second you’re free of its death grip, a long happy sigh drains out of you. A similar dreamy sigh drains out of Sam. Dork.

“I will never get tired of that,” Sam murmurs. You expect to hear some kind of hunger there, but the timber of his voice bleeds with admiration and fondness.

There are very few ways to be a normal human being while Sam Winchester adores your nude body with his eyes. The best you can do is burst into flustered, giggly laughter and give him a good eyeroll, your entire face cooking like a stove burner.

“Alright, loverboy,” you scoff, “I’m gonna go brush my teeth and take my makeup off—”

“Can I help?” Sam asks.

You sputter out another laugh, confused. “You wanna brush my teeth for me?”

“No,” Sam shakes his head, smiling big, “Lemme take your makeup off for you.”

Okay. Weirder. But it’s sweet, and you like this side of him, so you decide to indulge his mood. “...Sure.”

You go about your night-time routine. Sam continues to be a weirdo, trailing you into the bathroom, leaning against the doorframe, and blinking slow endearing blinks at you as he… watches you brush your teeth. Just. Stands there, watching, utterly enamored with this little moment of domesticity with you. On the surface level you’re a little thrown off, but it falls under the category of Freaky Sam Things that made you catch feelings for him in the first place, so. You grin into your toothbrush the whole time.

When he’s satisfied by his little ogling fest, he drifts off to hunt around for your makeup wipes. Either you’re predictable or he knows you too well, because he finds them within seconds, and patiently sits back as you finish up your routine, watching you like you’ll disappear on him the moment he turns away. Click click, you feel inside you.

“Okay,” he says when you’re done. “Close your eyes.”

You do. You wait for the cool touch of the wipe on your face, but instead, Sam’s big, rough fingers find your chin and hold you still. It takes conscience effort to not melt into his touch like a cat in a square of sunlight. Your willpower is nothing on Sam’s, though, so you give in quickly, sinking into his hand and sighing through your nose. In gentle swipes, he cleans your face. It must be a nightmare of smeared mascara considering how you’d cried earlier… And yet Sam had still been so transfixed by you. He’s the fucking best.

Sam’s hand tilts your head from side to side to survey his handiwork. Pleased, he tosses the wipe in the trash and says, “There you go.”

You open your eyes and go to double-check his work in the mirror, but Sam hasn’t removed his hand from your chin, and you really, really don’t want him to. His thick thumb comes up and caresses under your lips. He looks at you like he loves you, and with all the honesty in the world, he utters, “...You are so pretty.”

…The only way for you to survive this is by throwing him a dry look. “You’re full of shit. What’s your game, Winchester?”

That earns you another authentic Sam laugh, along with a handsome boyish smile. “There’s no game. What are you talking about?”

You squint at him. Liar.

“This.” You gestured between the two of you, suspicious. “You’re mooning over me. Why are you mooning? Are you planning something?”

A ripple of discomfort rolls across Sam’s face, but it passes too fast for you to read. His hands go right back in his pockets and he leans into the doorframe again. “I’m just… happy we’re not fighting,” he confesses.

Oh. That makes sense. Sam hasn’t exactly made up with you like that before, but. These times change everyone. You ease up on your teasing and admit, “Me too.”

“I’m sorry for scaring you away,” Sam says, and far, far too seriously for your liking, he whispers, “I’m sorry for everything.”

Your answer slips right out of your mouth without hesitation. “I forgive you, stupid,” your brows furrow together. “And I’m sorry, too. I said some pretty shitty stuff back there.”

Sam wilts against the doorframe a little. “Nothing I didn’t deserve.”

A dull pulse of anger flares in your chest, which flickers out and dies not a second later. There’s so much you want to say to that.

It is so fucking unfair—biblically, cosmically unfair—that Sam, the good guy to end all good guys, thinks of himself this way. He is the kind of righteous they make saints out of. And yet he sits in your silly little bathroom in your shitty little apartment and gives you that look, the look that says, I deserve this and so much more. I deserve to rot in hell for all eternity. He gave you that exact look when he brought up saying yes. He gives it to you now, because Sam sees everything as a sin to serve penance for—freeing Lucifer from the cage and making you a little worried. He thinks he’s so evil, so beyond saving. It makes you want to get your fists in your shirt and just shake him. 

You’re good! You want to scream. Just for once in your life, listen to me! None of this is your fault!

There’s nothing you could say to him that would ever make him let go of his guilt. But, at the very least, you could help him forget about it for a while.

“You beat yourself up too much,” you scold. Then, softer, you add, “C’mere, Sammy.”

Sam does as told, planting himself right in front of you. God, he’s changed. You look him over with a bittersweet smile. He used to be so spindly. The last few years have filled him out, forcing his body into something ready for war. The hunt reached in and tore all sorts of things out of people, but you’d been wrong about what it’d ripped out of Sam. His optimism was still there, warm and humming in the tissue of his body, and just seeing it fills you with hope. He looks so different from the man you’d had all to yourself in that cabin, but you can feel that he’s still in there. He’s still your Sam.

You take his face in your hands, smoothing your thumbs into his dimples and quietly, needily rasping, “...Can I take care of you?”

Sam’s whole body shudders with relief. “Please, yes.”

The next few beats of this dance haven’t changed. Like always, Sam comes flying in with a big, smashing kiss that shatters any leftover barriers between you. You’re not Sam’s girlfriend and he’s not your boyfriend, but Sam makes you his with this kiss. (If only for a little while). Your noses mash together and his eyes squeeze shut and then everything is just Sam, Sam, Sam at every angle. His hands are at his sides then suddenly they’re all over you, taking two greedy handfuls of your waist under the Stanford sweater. He jams your hips against his and kisses you senseless, towering over you, surrounding you, so that when you pull back to gasp for breath your lungs are flooded with his familiar heady love potion.

Either he’s giving off some Poison Ivy-level pheromones, or your body is so familiar with these steps that it knows what comes after this kiss… because you’re instantly wet.

You realized a long time ago that you and Sam have sex a bit too often for it to be considered “casual,” but even if it was, Sam is not a casual kind of lay. After that first soul-stealing kiss, Sam stares you down like a four-course meal, spins you around, pushes you down chest-first onto the bathroom counter, drops to his knees—

—and shoves his face between your legs like it’s his goddamn job.

In the middle of all your surprised shrieking and squirming, Sam nuzzles his face into your panties and moans deep and bassy in his throat, “Yes.”

Like he’s won something. Like he’s been waiting weeks to do this. Holy fuck, you’ll never get tired of that.

The second you have even an atom of your reason back, you slap a hand over your mouth. Neighbors! Sam has already forgotten what neighbors are, and is holy-mission-from-god-determined to make you noisy. He’s extra hungry for it tonight, too. You squeak out his name, not so much in shock, but more because having those huge hands squeezing where your ass starts to round out tends to produce a reaction, and Sam rumbles like a lawnmower in approval. Holy fuck.

He doesn’t have to ask you to spread your legs. One of the hands appreciating your ass slides between your thighs, cupping you through your underwear, and you have to try not to squeal when the meaty pad of Sam’s thumb swipes across your clothed folds. He presses a big kiss in that exact spot as he drags your panties down your legs, and it’s a weirdly sweet gesture that makes your heart and your belly flutter with shivery heat. Fuck. Fuck, you missed him so much.

The first few times Sam had sprung this move on you, you hadn’t exactly had enough time to fully rev up. But Sam is deadly efficient in and out of the bedroom, so he makes a point to get you extra wet (for him) with his spit, laving his hot, slippery tongue over you in one long swipe. He eats you out with all the obscene, noisy enjoyment of somebody gorging on the juiciest fruit they’ve ever tasted. Even you are scandalized.

It becomes embarrassingly clear that covering your mouth isn’t going to keep Sam from what he wants. The high, desperate moan you try to stifle only makes him work harder. You press an arm flat to the counter and bury your face in it for strength, since you’re weak and whimpering for him already. 

Sam was good in bed when you met him. But, by nature, he is a relentless and avid learner, and it’s been five whole years since he put his mouth on you for the first time. Now, Sam is a certified pussy-eating weapon. He knows your body better than anyone possibly could. You’re over the edge in a minute flat.

Your climax flies through you in one whizzing, sparking rush, then keeps flying, until your body’s squeezing out little squeaky pleas for mercy of its own accord. This is his favorite part. You claw into the countertop and wail for it, pushing at the floor in your socks to gain any sort of leverage. To press closer? To squirm away? You have zero fucking clue, since the thought part of your brain has been blasted into a smoking crater. Sam wraps a big arm around your spasming thigh to pin you open, and holy fucking shit, could that man suck the chrome off a tailpipe. His mouth is a whirlwind of licking and suction just on the right side of oh fuck too much that makes your skin feel like it’s fizzing. You are a thread that he’s just pulling and pulling until you’re so thin you could snap into nothing—

You wait for the moment when Sam pops off you, stands up, and goes for his zipper, but he never does. He remains on the floor, determined to lick you through overstimulation and straight into round two. But that’s a whole minute you could spend with his dick inside you instead, and there’s no fucking way you’re wasting that. Not when he’s here and real and not going to say yes. Sam’s not going anywhere. He’s staying, he’s alive, and the world isn’t going to end tomorrow.

“No no no,” you bite out in one short, rattling breath. “S-Suh—Sam, please please—” An unexpected sob shreds out of you. “Miss you. Need you.”

You’re actually, genuinely crying, and not entirely in the fun sexed-out way. Sam backs up. He’s not even halfway standing when you wrench him up the rest of the way, straight into a desperate, maddening kiss. It’s a brutal cross of teeth and tongue. The need for body heat and skin and him burns through you like genuine bloodlust, so you cram yourself up against him with life-or-death urgency. You get your nails into him until you feel something like shirt fabric and viciously yank it over his head, waiting for the moment when he grabs your wrists or shoves you onto the bed o-or—or starts to blow off steam. Cause’ that’s what this is all about, right?

He drags your mouths apart. Sam pants, “Slow down.”

You stop.

This is. This is new.

There’s no slowing, with this. You both go and you keep going until there’s no more fuel in your tanks, and you crawl out of bed the next day feeling like you’ve beaten the rot out of each other. You’ve never once slowed down during this before, and as your wheels spin to a halt for the first time, reality filters back in around you.

Sam stares at you. His hair is all over the place. A patchy blush speckles up his heaving chest, burning in his ears and in his cheeks. Your slick shines on his lips and the bulb of his nose. He’s just standing there and fucking looking at you, but for whatever reason it feels like the color has seeped back into the world.

“S’okay. Gonna be okay,” Sam hushes, bleeding with sweetness.

He picks up your hands, moving you as if you were a delicate glass he was turning over in each palm. Each of your hands are kissed in the center (oh my fucking god) then wrapped around his neck, and when he has you in his bubble he scoops up your face and kisses you.

It’s a boyfriend kiss. Not a blowing off steam thing, or any other excuse the two of you have used to feel each other. A genuine, I’m your boyfriend and I love you sort of kiss, foreheads pressed together, noses touching, the whole nine yards. It’s the kind of kiss that’s meant to say something. Every inch of what he’s trying to tell you echoes through your body in one ringing smash, like you’re a big cymbal he’s taken a mallet to. 

He slips off your lips and hovers, bracing himself for impact. You suck in a rattling breath.

…Then you press up onto your tiptoes to give him a kiss of your own, just pressing your lips against his, unmoving. It’s undemanding; an answer. You try to find the words to describe the shift that’s occurred between you, and end up feeling stuttery and shivery and fucking elated. Romantic. It’s fucking romantic.

“Sammy,” you sob out.

“Shhh. C’mere,” Sam whispers, his voice throaty and whiskey smooth. “Lemme make it better.”

He tries to walk you straight back out of the bathroom and towards the bed, he really does, but you stop Sam every other step to overwhelm him with obsessed, affectionate kisses. God. His chapstick is all over your fucking mouth (along with your slick) and his hands are everywhere else, feeling instead of grabbing.

“You always do,” you breathe, and that might be the most honest thing you’ve ever said to him in bed.

Sam gets this quiet, pleased smile on his face. No matter how naked and turned-on you are, you’ve always got a snappy reply ready, and you’re about to throw one at him—until you’re fucking obliterated. He smoothes his palms down your arms. Your wrists are scooped up again. With all the tenderness on the planet, Sam slides in close, kisses your throat, and places both of your hands firmly on his belt.

“Take it off,” he rasps.

This. This isn’t the first time he’s given you that order. But knowing, feeling that he’s playing this all out like it’s more than a fling to him… that Sam’s gonna fuck you like you’re someone special to him… sweet jesus, it makes you lightheaded.

“Bossy,” your murmur, grinning.

You’re downright feverish going in to kiss him next. Sam parts your lips with a slow, sinful swipe of his tongue, and there must be a drop of psychic still in him, because suddenly you’re flooded with visions of that filthy mouth between your legs. You can still feel the ghost of him there, keeping you open with his thumbs as the blunt tip of his tongue pushes you somewhere vast and sparkly and wonderful. This is going to be even better.

He sounds like he’s praying when he says, “I just like to watch you.”

Muscle memory serves. You work his clasp open without peeking down and let it hang in his belt loops, mostly because it lets his jeans sling low on his hips in the most enticing way. His belly twitches at even the slightest touch of your hands; always so responsive. Sam drops his forehead on your shoulder to watch you work, and you take the rare opportunity to kiss the top of his head. This is one of your favorite parts. When his button is undone and his zipper’s down, you’re free to smooth your hand under his waistband and take a big handful of him.

You reach in and—squeeze. Sam’s hand snaps up to clutch your arm. His nails dig in, and he rocks forward onto his tiptoes to really dig into your touch. “Yes.”

It’s the kind of soft, needy sound that makes you want to smother him with kisses and hug him until he suffocates. Instead, you cooly purr into his hair, “So sensitive, Sammy.”

A hoarse, sharp laugh snaps out of him, which dissolves into a shuddering groan. You tug at his jeans until they’re somewhere you don’t care about anymore, and forget about everything else entirely at the sight of his cock. All these years of sneaking around with him have conditioned you. Just seeing the pretty speckling of dark hair that leads to it, then the real deal, hanging blood-hot and heavy between his legs, makes your tummy flip and your mouth water. One of a million embarrassing Sam-reactions you’ll have to bring to your grave.

You take his cock in your hand, trying to swallow back the slutty amount of saliva in your mouth. Sam whimpers. A real, desperate sound, with his nails stinging down your arms and everything.

“Know you wanted to slow down,” you struggle between open-mouthed pants, “b-but—can’t—don’t wanna wait—”

Sam physically curls towards you, his hips seizing into your hand and his arms hooking around your shoulders. You’re dragged in for a sloppy kiss so deep you swear it melds your souls together. Sam is just as affected, rumbling like a racecar in approval.

“Then don’t.” He begs.

If this was any other night, Sam would just take. You’d be face down and drilled halfway through the mattress by now, no preamble, all business. He got off and you got off and everyone was happy that way. Sam would want the room dark and you would hide your face in the bedding, the two of you eager to touch and experience but terrified of breaking the illusion. He’s so generous that you suppose he’s got to have at least one place in life where he’s selfish, and you’re happy to be his outlet for it, but.

You’ve never seen him take this way before.

He looks at you and he never really stops, transfixed. You don’t doubt you could walk in a circle around him and Sam’s eyes would follow you the whole way, his gaze oozing with longing and something else—resolution? Faith? You push him onto the bed, and he drops down as if hobbling into a pew for the first time, unsure how to clasp his hands in prayer because it’s only ever been something done in his head before.

You stand there for a moment, unsure of what to do next.

“God,” Sam utters, spellbound. 

You’re blushing so hard that you forget to be sexy as you crawl into his lap, but Sam doesn’t care, still giving you those big slow doe blinks to express his love. It’s so different from the Sam you know (yet also so deeply, deeply him) that you forget what it means to be sexy entirely. He coaxes you closer to plant tender kisses under your chin, and the plan to seductively peel off your sweater for him and flash him your tits blips out of existence.

You wait for the moment when Sam shreds the Stanford sweater off you. Instead, those wonderful fucking hands tease under the hem to squeeze your waist, and Sam croaks out between kisses, “Should wear this all the time. You’re beautiful in anything, but this… you’re… mmn.”

Your heart gives a pathetic flutter. You press mindless kisses against his mouth and rock your bare core down on his lap, because he’s never acted this way before and you don’t know how else to return the favor. “Not nearly as beautiful as you, Sammy.”

The only reaction you get from him is a single huff out of his nose, like it’s something he can’t commit a whole laugh to. Like none of that matters anymore, like it would never matter for Sam, because his body may be beautiful, but it hardly belongs to him anymore. God, you’re shitty at compliments.

You’re fucking wonderful, you suddenly want to tell him. A whole swarm of little truths and sweet nothings roars straight up to the surface of your mind, a whole sea of better things you could say to him, but then one of those perfect hands is slipping between your legs and Sam’s asking you in that perfect, tinted glass voice, “You still on the pill?”

“Yes, doctor,” you tease.

Another flood of sticky heat rushes between your legs, because that question is always a precursor to being pressed into and filled and stuffed end-to-end by Sam’s dick. The one barrier that doesn’t—didn’t exist between you.

“Good,” Sam sighs, relieved, grateful. He never turned down going raw in the past, but he’s downright starved for it right now. Closer closer closer, his whole body begs.

You’re tugged in by a big hand hooked around your back, and you fall right into Sam’s summer-warm, sweat-sticky chest, giggling. He loops both arms around your middle and teddy-bear squeezes even more laughter out of you. The only way to hold yourself up is by planting two hands on his shoulders… which turns into his cupping his neck… then caressing his face, because it’s impossible to be witness to that quiet boyish grin and not shower him in affection. There’s all these little freckles on him that you can only see up close. He feels good, mystical good, prophetic-chosen-one type good.

This is the moment. You can feel the blood in your body pounding between your legs, and Sam’s cock bumps not-so-innocently against your core as you kiss one another. Every shift of his hands sends your muscles clenching tight, bracing for impact, but Sam doesn’t push into you just yet.

Your confusion must be clear on your face, because he says, “Just let me feel you for a second.”

And, obviously, you’re not an idiot, so you let Sam feel you for as long as he pleases. For the next ten uninterrupted minutes, you makeout like lovesick teenagers, whimpering and sighing and swallowing every sound the other makes. You’d always pegged him as a romantic. But seeing it, feeling it, adds a whole new dimension to him you hadn’t realized you’d been craving.

By the time the pool of need in your gut has opened up into a blackhole, Sam has caressed or squeezed or kissed every part of you ten times over. He continues to be weird and obsessed with you. (So still in character, then). Sam even pinches the ends of your ears and smooths his thumbs over the bumps of your ankles, being sexy about it but also a little terrifying. He touches you like he’s never gonna see you again.

Around the time that Sam starts suckling marks into your neck and trying to tickle you under your arms, you giggle out, “O-Okay—okay! Enough—!”

“Enough what?” Sam cocks his head. His hand makes another dive for your belly, making you shriek and squirm with more giggles. You try to wriggle away to protect your tickling sides, but Sam’s too strong and you’re a little in love with him, so it’s easy for him to pull you flush against him and blow tingly-warm breaths beside your ear. He purrs, “You need it that badly?”

“Fucking yes! So quit torturing me,” you pant, and you’re pretty sure this grin is going to get stuck on your face.

Sam’s smile gets even bigger. “Only if you say please.”

Your attitude slips from your grip like water. Next time, you’ll play push and pull with him, but right now there needs to be a lot more pushing and pulling in a different context.

The words are out of your mouth in an instant. “Please, Sam.”

As reluctant as he is to stop teasing you, Sam’s a little in love, too. He leans back enough to fist his cock in one hand, and you can’t help how your breath hitches when Sam’s touch follows the curve of your ass to where you’re soaked and sensitive for him. Those thick, maddening fingers spread you open. The velvety tip of his cock finds your hole right away, and your legs nearly give out when Sam starts to swipe himself up and down your folds one dizzying stroke at a time. Back…. and forth. Up… and down. Jesus fucking Christ.

“Okay, fine…” He concedes, his eyes glittering with joy. “You’re just so cute when you act all tough.”

Maybe not all of your attitude is gone. You bark out a laugh, telling him, “I hate you.”

Sam presses down for the last time, then presses in. You don’t mean to look into his eyes when he fills you up, and that’s probably what does you in. Sam’s rosy face flutters and twists with pleasure, but he never stops looking at you, not even once, terrified to miss even a small moment. The long hitching moan that slips out of you makes his whole face darken with desire. You’re pulled onto him deeper and deeper and deeper until—click. Cue the angel choir.

Your fingers dig desperately into his hair. Sam curls into you in one slow pulling movement, a thread pulled taut, until his face is stuffed in your neck and his hands are mindlessly scrabbling down your back.

“God, I love you,” he moans.

Soon your pussy feels achy and hair-trigger-sensitive and beyond full, which could mean that you’re all the way on him. It’s impossible to tell, since the first full minute of having Sam’s dick inside you sends you straight to the moon every time, where everything falls in peaceful slow-motion and the whole world hums with cosmic, sparkling pressure. You shove your face into him and nuzzle in a daze, little ripples of electricity sparking up your spine.

…Wait.

“What?” You register, slow.

Sam is still clutching you for dear life, even if the moment’s slowed and you’re both comfortable. He hugs you full-bodied, nose in your neck, tilted forward, the kind of hug where he sways you side to side with joy. Sam sucks in a harsh breath. Can’t hold back anymore.

“I love you,” he gushes. The words burn out of him, declarative, overjoyed.

There’s so much you want to say to that. But then Sam digs his fingers into your ass and pulls you off his lap, only to gloriously sink you down the rest of the way, and. Fuck fuck fuck. His cock drags thick and hot against the pliant walls of your pussy. You couldn’t be any more full if you tried, clamping down on him with long, silky ripples of pressure that outline the shape of him inside you in obscene detail. It’s the kind of mind-blowing that’s beyond comprehension, beyond feeble human understanding. Your eyes squeeze shut and you whimper into his hair.

“God, I love you,” he chants again through grit teeth. “So much. So fucking much.”

You find his face with your hands and kiss him quiet, tasting the promise in his mouth. When you part and the two of you really start to move, you kiss him again, and again, whispering where only he can hear, “I-I love you too.”

It should scare you how easily the confession slips out. You should be terrified, because even if you live to see next week, or next month, or next year, even if Sam isn’t saying yes to Lucifer, those words are a death sentence. And yet.

“I-I miss you,” you choke out, “I need you.”

“Me too. So much,” Sam soothes, his voice tight and sharp with restraint. You know his instinct is to jackhammer up into you and never stop, but he puts in effort to resist, letting you both marinate in the wonderful, glistening, twitchy feeling of each other. His hands are rubbing your back and he is so fucking warm, turning the rain outside to steam.

He doesn’t bounce you on his dick. It’s more of a slow, cresting drag, waves stroking a beach. You don’t think you could handle much more than that, anyway—sometimes these positions make him feel big enough to pop you like a balloon. What you can’t fit on your own, your weight pushes you down onto anyway, turning your whole body into a big expanding bubble of pressure ready to burst at any moment. You clutch at his shoulders and just throb around him for a second.

“Nuh-uh,” Sam leans away, not letting you shove your face in him like you want. Instead, a big hand cups one side of your neck and keeps you in front of him. “Wanna see your face. Look at me. Look at me,” he insists, genuinely pleading.

When your eyes find his, that’s when he decides to snap up into you for real. You don’t even get a full look at him. The arm slung around your waist drags you up off your wobbling knees, then slams you down into a beautiful, endless white space popping with color.

“Sammy!” You choke.

That’s the magic word. You’re instantly thrust up into four more lightning-fast times, one-two-three-four, and hitch out four squeaky gasps to match. Sam’s eyes bore into yours with every beat, blazing with liquid love. For a second you wonder if you’ve fallen back into your rough routine again. But then words and thoughts melt out of your brain altogether, because Sam draws you into the tenderest, sweetest kiss human beings are capable of, fucking into you deep and smooth with that deeper, smoother voice, “Keep saying that.”

Sammy Sammy Sammy, you rattle out under your breath. Sam hisses out your name the exact same way.

You do your best to help him out a little, bobbing up and down in his lap, but’s a drop of water in the ocean for him. All Sam cares about is seeing your reaction. He soaks up everything you do like a sponge, moaning when you moan, gritting his teeth when you bite your lip, grinding up as you stir down. The weight of his eyes on you is so heavy that your skin stings in its wake. Again, it’s Sam’s brand of freak-sweetness that makes you get stupid notions in your head about wedding rings and anniversary presents. But that’s—

…something he knows about. Something he just said to you five minutes ago. Above the haze of bouncing, rhythmic pleasure, you’re flooded with relief. You can tell him! Holy fuck, you can tell him!

“I love you,” you gasp out again, and just saying it feels like it could save the world. “O-oh, god, Sam—”

The breath you have left is stolen from you by another fierce kiss from him, so passionate it lets you taste the bassy, happy hum that rumbles in Sam’s throat. You’re devoured by feverish kisses for a full minute, then Sam pops off you to sob, “So much—so fucking much, yes.”

He slips a hand between the two of you to thumb your clit, stirring in and never once stopping. Every so often he’ll brush up against where you’re hot and filled to the hilt with him, your bodies sliding together with slick, filthy noises that are so—so fucking much that your thighs cramp up, protesting the constant pistoning. But the pleasure is easily worth the burn. Your core booms with long echoes of pleasure that shudder through the trembling spiderwebs that make up your nerves. You make a move to lean back on your hands and switch up the angle, (since you’re a damn good cowgirl, thank you very much), but Sam refuses to stop kissing you. He physically pulls you back in with a hand fished around your neck and kisses you breathless, determined to pound you to your climax one thorough snap of his hips at a time.

“So beautiful,” Sam gushes. His voice is hoarse and thready, like he’s moments away from bursting into tears of pure desire.

You smooth your hands down his flushed cheeks, telling him between huffy moans, “It’s okay, s’ okay, Sammy… so pretty… love you so much…”

You feel him pull the Stanford sweater up over your ass and out of his way, exposing more, more, more of your bare skin for him to touch. Sam palms the slope of your back and your belly in a daze, but that’s still not enough—he’ll never be satisfied with how little of you he’s had. He wants more. He wants forever. You embrace each other to the fullest, cheeks smushed together, chests flush, his parted lips claiming your throat, making you his—but. Sam’s breath ratchets up. Not enough not enough not enough—

In one ragged motion, Sam rolls you both over, tossing you back-first onto the bedding and smothering you with his weight.

A squeal of delight jumps out of you. “Hey!”

If Sam wasn’t all over you before, then he literally is now, dropping onto his elbows so he can cup your face in both hands and surround you completely. “Sorry,” he croaks, “need you. Need to fill you up.”

You whisper against his lips, “Then fill me up already.”

His thumbs press into your cheeks a little. Sam’s breath fans across your face, throttled by the lump in his throat.

“Tell me you love me again.”

Um. You don’t exactly have the sexy heat of the moment to hide behind this time, but you still want to say it for him. His eyes swim with something unreadable. Desire and love, enough love to put a lump in your throat too, but a third thing also. It worries you.

You bring your hands up to stroke his wrists, and give a bit too much of your soul to him when you promise, “...I love you, Sam.”

The words hit him like a bullet. Sam shudders from head to toe, unable to reign himself in any longer, and plants a long, surging kiss on your mouth that makes your belly flash with nuclear levels of lust. He squirms his hands underneath your body so he can cradle you against him—genuinely cradling, one palm cupping the back of your neck—and then burrows into you face-first, groaning your name as his cock nestles itself as deep as it can go.

With all of his weight on top of you, you couldn’t move if you wanted to. You caress and kiss and dig your nails into him, and somewhere along the way you’re given a dose of whatever has made him fucking insane for you right now. It fogs your head and turns your reason to ash, so when Sam returns to ruining you for any other man, you whimper, “Please don’t leave me.”

“Oh, baby,” Sam hiccups out, and something strange hangs in his voice.

You would ask him what’s wrong, but the shuddering, flimsy scraps left of your brain are busy being blasted all over by white-hot pleasure. Everything scorches. Sam’s bare skin and his breath and his hands feel fucking molten, melting you down like hot glass. You’re pinned down in every possible way, and it pushes the sinking, gorgeous pressure inside you all over your body, like it’s not just Sam’s cock filling you up, but him, just him, the source of all good in the world. Holy fucking fuck. His hips glide back and then thud back into you again and again and again. You get why it’s called making love, now. You can taste your love for him in the back of your throat, feel it sitting in a sticky film on your skin. It hangs like humidity in the air of your apartment. And jesus christ, it bleeds from Sam, glowing off him like fucking radiation.

When you’re shamelessly wailing gut-deep in ecstasy, Sam peels himself off you. He forces himself to sit up. His chest putters up and down with desperate little breaths, and a gloriously big hand scoops under your thigh and welds it against your chest. Whatever he sees from this new angle—probably your wet, abused pussy stretched tight around the full base of his cock—makes Sam gape, utterly transfixed. You watch as his mouth falls open, and then those dark, soul-swallowing eyes crawl up your body to meet yours.

“Keep lookin’ at me,” Sam rasps.

Even if he doesn’t sway your opinion with a few dizzying, stomach-deep drags of his cock, (which he does), you’re convinced. You lock eyes with him—and then suddenly feel stupid for not watching him the whole time. A long curl of hair hangs in his eyes and sways as he fucks into you. His expression flutters with these sinful little giveaways, exposing just how starved he is for you, how in love. Maybe if you’d looked back sometime in the past five years, that’s what you would’ve seen: how much this has always meant to him. He searches your face for the same pleasure, obsessed with his effect on you. 

“Fuck,” you shudder out. “C-could cum just watchin’ you, Sammy.”

“That’s right,” he hisses, and you’ve never heard him sound so damn happy. “Cum for me. Please. Look so pretty when you do.”

Usually, when he makes you cum, it’s the roughest part of the whole act. He’d get both your wrists pretzeled behind your back and pinned viciously in one of his hands, and that’s when you’d know the big finish was coming. His pace would go from bouncing to bruising. But this Sam, your Sam, would stop time if he could, so he slows down even further, winding you closer and closer to the top of the mountain with little figure-eights of his hips. He gazes down at you the same way you’re sure you must gaze up at him. Beautiful, he murmurs under his breath.

You utter another, tight, almost-sob of, “love you so much, Sammy,” and his dick twitches wildly shoved in you to the hilt.

“Ohh—shit,” he chokes out, and his other hand snaps desperately towards yours on the bed. They find each other easily, and you squeeze his hand with everything you’ve got, infusing in him all the love he’s infused in you.

The slow, mounting tsunami of perfection you’ve been moving towards finally overcomes you, and in one long gorgeous slippery rush you cum for Sam. And because your life is a movie—he cums for you too. He rocks faster and falls forward to kiss you, your faces pressed together, your mouths slotting against each other, your pussy squeezing down on him in golden rippling strokes. Sam hisses your name out between his teeth as he cums. You’re lanced straight through by a whole fucking universe of fluttering, flickering pleasure. To be honest, you’re a little pissed about it—because it’s the best fucking orgasm you’ve had in your entire life, and it’s all because Sam raggedly chants those words to you again and again, laying sloppy, obsessive, head-over-heel kisses all over your face. Love you love you so much baby you feel so good squeezin’ down on me.

You could’ve had this ages ago. How much more time could you have had with him, if you had just stopped being stupid?

Sam’s crazed, sobbing, hitching I love yous somehow become, in true Sam fashion, a low spiral of thank yous. He lays there and clutches you until there’s a Sam-shaped imprint in your body. You’re pretty sure he would stay inside you all night if he could, but you coax him into some cuddling instead, since you both are in desperate need. It’s. It’s new, but it feels cleansing in the holy way.

What feels like hours later, your brain dimly connects to the rest of your body. You’re halfway through detangling Sam’s hair with your fingers as he hides face-first in your chest, pretending he’s not embarrassed that he cried. At least, that’s what you assume. The Winchester mind is a mysterious one, and as much as you would hope to know what Sam’s thinking, the slow hand drawing circles on your hip tells you nothing. Is he shy that he got emotional? That seems silly, since you both sobbed into each other earlier. Is he embarrassed about everything he confessed? Does he regret it?

Just when your train of thought really starts to take the curves of your spiral hard, Sam tiredly croaks into your neck, “I meant what I said, y’know.”

He draws in a lungful of your perfume through his nose, soaking up as much of you as he can possibly get. His hands smooth over your body, innocent and loving, caressing you, memorizing you, begging silently for forgiveness. 

Sam is a dead-silent crier. But you hear him sniffle as he gushes, “God, I love you.”

Maybe if you hadn’t been so tired, you would’ve picked up on it. Or maybe you’d heard it in his voice, seen it, something, and ignored it, hoping it was something else. Everything he felt, he put into a teeny, unmarked box that he’d bury god knows where, far from where anybody could be hurt by it. Sam didn’t—he wouldn’t say that to you. Not unless it was the last time he ever could. He would feel it, but it’d go right into that box where it couldn’t hurt you. You should’ve known.

Lie to me, you’d begged him. 

…And Sam had.

_

The dull realization that you are awake sets in around noon. Noon as in after-noon, well past when you’re normally up and at em’. When you wonder why the hell you slept in so late, you remember last night’s rain, thrashing against the windows all night, and Sam, his face haloed by lamplight and bleeding with quiet resolution.

Sam. Alive, and not going to say yes.

He’d been the one to keep you up all night. With his mouth and his hands, yes, but then afterward he’d been hellbent on talking. Just… talking. You’d been sluggish and cozy and sated after having sex, but no matter how close you came to falling asleep, Sam wouldn’t let it happen. For two straight hours he asked you every question he could come up with to keep you up with him.

Do you remember when we met? Cause’ I do. Do you remember what I said to you? Do you remember what you thought about me? I remember thinking how similar we were, y’know, how much we’d get along. You were so pretty… my whole face went red every time you looked at me. Do you remember…?

Being cuddled, kissed, and protected by the man you love really tempts a girl to doze off, too, so this was not an easy battle. But Sam persisted. He studied your face intently, uttering I love yous even when sleep started to pull you under. Hearing any Winchester drop those words on you still blew your fucking mind, to be honest. Sam especially. But it was romantic as it was worrying, so you’d shut him up with a kiss goodnight and echoed it back to him. Love you, Sammy. It was probably just an anxiety thing, you assumed—Sam, for some fucking reason, was a pretty insecure guy, so you imagined that was his way of making sure you wanted all of this. He seemed… scared. He wasn’t used to being wanted.

The apocalypse was still on. Maybe the world would end tomorrow, or maybe you’d get lucky and live a whole lifetime with Sam. Regardless, he’s never saying yes to Lucifer, and that alone means that there’s still hope for the future. You’re going to spend every second of it making Sam feel wanted.

Sitting up in bed, you scrubbed at your sleepy face with the heel of your hand and stared around the room. Sam was physically incapable of staying asleep after five in the morning, so the familiar evidence of his military-efficient morning routine was all over the place. You smiled to yourself. He’d picked up after the two of you, and had tucked another blanket over you in your sleep. Stupid chivalrous dumbass.

To think, you’d been terrified you’d never see him again just last night.

You push out of bed, only to almost buckle onto the carpet rag-doll style. Even being torturously gentle, that man manages to make you sore. With a very, very happy groan, you hop (and wince) into some clean underwear, then traipse out into your kitchen to show that dork who’s boss.

“Dammit, Samuel, you’re not my maid—” you start to say, but of course, this is Sam, who wouldn’t miss a morning run for anything. Right. That explains your empty kitchen.

…But it’s afternoon. Sam would be back by now. Your gut prickles with a bad feeling, and you superstitiously sweep your apartment, looking for him. His clothes from last night are still sitting in your hamper, his shirt folded neatly in your dresser and his watch on your nightstand. A spike of nausea rolls through you seeing that his jacket is gone—and his boots. But his duffle—it’s. It’s still on your kitchen table. It looks a little smaller than usual, but his books and his laptop are still inside. He probably just ran out to run some silly errand for you, determined to make up for worrying you so much. Yeah.

You force your hunter’s paranoia down to a simmer, padding over to your breakfast table. There’s a big ol’ note smack dab in the center of it, perched on his half-open duffle bag, and you start to play with one of the bracelets Sam left behind as you pick it up.

You cross your fingers, smiling ear-to-ear. “C’mon. All bets on breakfast. Please be getting me breakfast, please be getting me breakfast—”

…That’s not what the note says.

You read it.

Then you read it again, and the hammer falls, crushing the breath out of you and doubling you over the kitchen table. You read the note for the third time, needing to be sure, and the thin sliver of hope you had—maybe you’d just read it wrong, m-maybe he was fine—turns to ash. He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t.

You’re fighting back a surge of ugly, choking tears in an instant. He’s… Sam… he…

Your whole apartment lingers with the heat and goodness of him, like he’d been here just minutes ago. Just seconds. Even your clothes still smell like Sam. Just inhaling it tears chunks out of your reason, like—like you’d just missed him. Clawing around for something to do, you pace in a daze between your bedroom and the front door, desperate to recreate the moment you realized he was gone. You’re still just in the Stanford sweater and your underwear, but you don’t give a single shit and go careening out into the hall, stalking up and down your floor for him—because, b-because Sam wouldn’t, he wouldn’t do that to you—he would tell you first, he would never leave you in the dark like this—

…But you know Sam. And if it meant fixing his mistakes, saving you, saving everyone… Then he’d say yes in a heartbeat.

“These belong to you. You deserve a world to live in. I’m sorry - Sam.”

- tags: @samssluttybangs @cookiemumster1@lacilou@cevans-winchester @leigh70@ seraphimluxe @emily-roberts @emme-looou @aloneatpeace @williamstop @ornella0910 @chaoticshepardplaid @dakota-dream @lcvecstiel @goghkiss @spnexploration @stoneyggirl2 @urm0mmmbbg @mulattomoon @poeticsorcery @deansapplepie @rennydenny @babydollfoster @badlandsbrunette @hallecarey1

[mimisplayground]

If I can’t have you baby, no one else in this world can. ʅ（◞‿◟）ʃ

I hope everyone likes it! This is part two of my other Toji fic where he was jealoussssss~ I hope u all enjoy :3 (part one linked at da bottom)

Tags: Dacryphillia (brief), Rough sex, Mentions of Murder, Mean Toji, He talks abt marrying you during sex????? (not clickbait)(gone wrong)(gone sexual), Spanking (kinda brief too), JEALOUS TOJI!!!, very light bondage, HES SWEET BUT IN SUBTLE WAYS!!, Degrading, Overstimulation, Thigh Fucking (brief), Doggy Style, Mating Press

I couldve missed some tag sorryyyyyyy, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!

——————

Toji hadn’t heard from you in a week. A whole week of no contact from you, and he could feel his eye twitch as he knocked on your door.

And he was even more angry when you opened the door with a bratty pout on your face. “What do you want Fushiguro?” You huffed out, frowning at him.

He had to resist the urge to lean forward to smother you entirely. He treats you real nice and you wanna call him by his last name? Like he didn’t have you screaming his first name only a week prior? “Wanna know why you’re ignoring me, baby.” He tries his luck with being sweet with you first, a disingenuous smile on his face.

He quickly regrets the sweet act when you roll your eyes in his face. “Made me block my other guy.” You muttered out, and Toji felt his hand fist up for a moment. “He was a good fuck,” you started off, stupid of you to do in Toji’s opinion “and you made me block him like you’re up here all that often anyways. Can’t keep me satisfied and got rid of the one who could.”

By the end of your sentence, Toji had reached the end of his patience. He leans forward, and his hand grips your shoulder for a moment. “Im gonna go, and I’m gonna bash that guys skull in. And when I’m done you’re gonna be on the bed, where I’m gonna fuck you so hard you forget your own name. Ok?” He was at a borderline whisper, and you felt yourself shuddering at the threat he spoke last time being reiterated.

You throw yourself to hug him when he goes to turn. The idea of some man dying just for getting his dick wet didn’t sit right with you. “Tojiiiii,” You whined out, looking at him as pitifully as you could. “I didnt mean it Toji, I was just trying to get you riled up.” You admitted bashfully (in a poor attempt to earn pity points from a man who doesn’t pity anything), ignoring how hot your face felt when you heard - and felt - his chuckle at the confession.

You’re led into your place, a hand gently cradling your back as you’re led to your room and you can’t help but think that your confession had subdued Toji’s anger, even momentarily.

So imagine your surprise when you find your face smushed into the bed, hands tied behind your back when a soft satin ribbon and your ass in the air. And the first time his hand landed on your ass it was shocking enough to make you jolt forward with a small squeal. The hits that came after still earning groans and grunts of pain from you.

Even if he wouldn’t admit it, he was being soft on you, he always was. But he made a promise that you would forget your own name and he intended to hold true on that.

“Fucking whore” he huffed, another smack landing on your ass “bratty bitch, gotta be put back in your place.” His hands grip your hips and you squirm in anticipation.

His fingers find their way inside you first, working you open with so much precision you felt he was playing you like an instrument. Three fingers deep inside, and god did they hit the perfect spots each time. “You tryna get dick from someone else? I’m all you need baby.” He says, jealous vemon laced in every word.

“Just you Toji, ‘m sorry, didn’t mean it.” You whined, and you hear a cruel laugh as his fingers leave you. “Now I’m Toji? Not Fushiguro?” He questions in a mean tone even as his hands massage your back.

(He said it was to help with prep when he first did it. Your questioning leaving him a bit scrambled before he claimed it made the sex better. You had believed him at first, until you realized it was just a small act of care. You never called him on it, you enjoyed it even.)

“Begging isn’t gonna work on me this time, cute little whore.” Toji says with a mocking coo, pushing his pants down to pump his dick with his own fist a few times. And as he stares at your back, he can’t help but want to break his own promise and just fuck into you. Not that he actually would, but he was tempted.

He slips his dick between your thighs, thrusting lightly and kissing at your neck. “Talking about another guy in front of me, giving me a bitchy ass attitude,” he seems to be recounting his grievances with you, a hand reach to grip your waist when you try to grind down onto the dick between your thighs. “Don’t know who you belong to yet? That it? Maybe I should put a ring on your finger and make you understand.” He groans, listening to your pleads for him to just put it in already.

And when he finally complies it’s like bliss. His hand is gripping your wrists before he unties the ribbon holding them together. Your hands grip the sheets at either side of you, and you sigh happily as he kisses your poor red wrists. You turn your head, kissing him on his cheek.

Toji’s mind seems to blank for a moment before he’s pulling out and flipping you onto your back. And with your legs thrown over his shoulders as your bent almost in half, he fucks you into a mating press so brutal that your mind blanks.

“Gonna make you mine baby, put a ring on your finger. You’re never gonna get away from me.” He grunts and almost growls, watching your eyes roll back with tears streaming down your face. “Gonna keep you locked in, you love saying my last name so much, now you’re gonna share with me.” His thrusts were deep, and hard, and agonizingly perfect that you could help but violently twitch as an earth shattering orgasm runs through you.

He fucks you through it, and you feel an awful sense of deja-vu as you go hurtling toward your next one.

Toji grabs your left hand, and you stare at him in a stupid, fucked dumb look of curiosity and whined when he bit your ring finger hard. And you whined even more when he forced his own left ring finger into your mouth, telling you to bite hard. You comply and watch him fill with a sinful glee. “There you go baby, it’s our wedding rings.” He says with a soft grin, his brutal thrusts being an absolute opposite of the look.

With orgasm three coming quick, you’re almost relieved to feel his rhythm falter and stutter, and you scream into the room filled with sweat and sex as you feel another final brutal slam of his pelvis into yours, and you feel your insides fill up with his cum.

He pulls out, getting up and walking to the bathroom, and you sigh through closed and tired eyes as you feel him wipe you down with a warm damp cloth and few minutes later. A blanket is thrown over you both as he spoons you.

His thumb traces the bitemark he left on your finger, you completely pliant and stupid in his arms. You couldn’t seem to think of an answer when he looked at you with a devilish smile and innocently asked “so, what’s your name?”

*

The next morning, waking up to Toji cuddled up with you and a subtle rumbling snore coming from him had to be the best feeling in the world.

Your legs were jelly, and when Toji woke up and had finally pulled himself up, he brought you water and a small plate of fruits. You watch him get dressed with a pout. “Toji…where are you going so soon?”

He turns and the smile he had was an almost boyish expression. “I told you last night,” You felt your blood freeze for a moment as you stared at Toji, your legs unable to move.

“Im gonna go bash that guys skull in.” He left a small peck on your forehead and a promise that he would he back soon.

God you hope that other guy had a quick death, if nothing else.

—————

UH….SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG… LOTS OF THOUGHT PUT INTO THIS ONE!!

Requests open :3

[diorsluv]

feather , part 10

“ i’m saying ‘no, no, no, no more’ ”

series m. list previous chapter next chapter

( socialmedia!au )

yourusername

liked by lhughes_06, adamfantilli, mackie.samo, and 74,028 others

yourusername little women hurt my brain so i went back to my happy place (aka gossip girl)

view all comments

edwards.73 i’m kinda scared to ask but uh… what’s the difference between gossip girl and gilmore girls

→ yourusername unfollow me rn

→ colecaufield wait no he’s valid (i don’t know the difference either)

→ yourusername both of u have asked me this 20 times already. i’m blocking u two.

markestapa i know the difference between gossip girl and gilmore girls!

→ mackie.samo me too!!

→ yourusername yeah bc u come to my place for gossip girl marathons like every other day

username64 LITTLE WOMEN

username78 FLORENCE PUGH OH MY GOD

jackhughes little women gives me war flashbacks

→ yourusername i wonder why 🤨

→ jackhughes hmmm maybe because you CALLED ME FOR 5 HOURS STRAIGHT JUST TO RANT TO ME ABOUT IT

→ yourusername IM SORRY

username14 is no one gonna talk about how she posted this at 2 in the morning 😭😭

bookerburke_ gossip girl is the one with the guy that played sam in supernatural right

→ yourusername no sweetie that’s gilmore girls…..

→ cole.caufield HEY HOW COME YOU’RE NICE TO HIM ABOUT IT BUT NOT US yourusername

username21 at least bertram isn’t in one of the pics this time

→ username35 LMAO BERTRAM

username69 i’m kinda sorta in love with your taste in tv shows and movies

yourusername

liked by jackhughes, adamfantilli, trevorzegras, and 82,185 others

yourusername went through my old photos and i guess this is sort of a photo dump.. if u ask me to explain the pics i might…….

so for all the trev, luke, jack, quinn, luca, mark, rut, turcs, eddy, and mackie girls, i hope you’re happy 🫶🫶

tagged: trevorzegras, _quinnhughes, mackie.samo, edwards.73, jackhughes, lhughes_06, _alexturcotte, rutgermcgroarty, luca.fantilli, markestapa

view all comments

lhughes_06 please for the love of god don’t explain the cow photo

→ username44 what happened in the cow photo 😧

→ yourusername okay username44 so basically i walked out of my parents house and i saw luke’s dumbass in a cow suit standing right next to my car

→ lhughes_06 I WAS 16 AND JACK SAID IF I DID IT HE’D DO MY CHORES FOR TWO WEEKS

adamfantilli why didn’t you post me 🫤🫤

→ yourusername i didn’t have any old bad pics of you 😕

username4 quinner is contemplating his life in that fishing pic

luca.fantilli okay but that cake was kind of good

→ yourusername uh huh maybe bc i made it

→ luca.fantilli ok i don’t know bout all THAT 🤣

→ yourusername ur the worst fantilli brother

trevorzegras i didn’t know everyone fell asleep on top of me on the couch 😅😅

_alexturcotte let me just say i beat cole in arm wrestling

→ cole.caufield yeah butttt who got the bigger gains??

→ _alexturcotte oh shut up

→ yourusername it’s okay turcs, not everyone’s as strong as cauliflower here

→ _alexturcotte BUT I LITERALLY BEAT HIM?? yourusername

→ cole.caufield hey lil drizzy i thought we left that nickname in 2020 🙃

markestapa you know i actually rode that skateboard pretty well

→ yourusername you fell flat on your ass

username76 i love how she’s exposing EVERYONE

edwards.73 hey it was fun getting thrown into the pool

→ yourusername says the one that started screaming bloody fuckin murder as soon as he hit the water

mackie.samo i look so disheveled eating that cake

rutgermcgroarty see me and jack held each other up in that second photo bc we’re just too strong for our own goods

→ jackhughes 🗣️🗣️

→ yourusername whatever helps you sleep at night

next chapter notes ) i’m actually grinding these chapters out it’s insane this one was really fun to make, esp the second post 😈😈 and also no booker this time so i hope yall like it a bit more lmaooo

[minkkumaz]

hi omg your riwoo fic... TEARS WERE SHED... if you're open to requests can i request an angst sungho fic (with fluffy ending though) HSJSHSH thank u

TALK TO THE WALL

fighting with sungho was tiring, and it's not something you normally do. when things get a little hard to handle, maybe you just need to step out and see what happens in the morning.

PAIRING park sungho x fem!reader WC 0.6k TAGS established relationship. angst. fluff. fighting. yelling. making up. OMI NOTE omg hi anonn i hope this was good for you. whenever i think of angst with happy ending i always think of couples fighting LOL

maybe you understood the true meaning of eternity, as you had been arguing with sungho for the past hour or two. it didn’t end, and his words continued to cut you deep, leaving a gash of things he didn’t know could come out of his mouth.

it was silly really, couldn’t you understand that he was busy? so why did it feel like he was ignoring you on purpose? you wondered if the spark between the two of you finally became dull like a burnt out match. 

the louder he got, the quieter he became. to be honest, you had stopped listening. 

“why can’t you just listen to me, y/n! i’m tired, i can’t deal with this right now.” he shouted at your shaky figure.

“i didn’t ask you to deal with shit, sungho! i haven’t seen you in so fucking long is it so wrong to ask for some time with you?” you cry out.

“i just can’t keep dedicating my world to you y/n, i need time for myself too.” 

“but it’s been months. when was the last time we went on a date? when was the last time we cuddled? fuck i even forgot what it felt like to kiss you. don’t you understand how frustrating that is?” 

“god this is so stupid. you were never this clingy what the hell happened?” he groaned, running a hand through his sleek black hair, still a bit messy from his long day.

“oh, so now i’m clingy? is that what i get for missing my stupid boyfriend?” you choke out, wiping tears with your already wet sleeve.

“don’t make me feel like the bad guy, y/n.”

“i’m not trying to make you feel anything except for maybe a little sympathy for how i’m feeling.” you bit the flesh inside your cheek.

“you just don’t get it, do you?” he scoffed.

“talk to a fucking wall, sungho.” you storm off into your shared room, making sure to lock the door behind you. anything he said to you while you turned away from him didn’t settle in your head. 

more tears fell down your flushed cheeks as you snuck into the covers, muffling your sobs with the white sheet. things weren’t always like this, in fact, they were never like this. you didn’t want to imagine your everyday life without seeing his handsome face. 

sleep came easy as you felt numb. no knock on the door, no sign of life outside of your bedroom. you wondered if he left you and you’d come out to an empty apartment. 

the next morning you woke up with a raging headache, and the light from your blinds illuminating your post cry glow. sungho’s smell already began to disappear from the pillows after one night, this stung your heart a little.

rubbing your puffy eyes, you slowly got up from your bed and trudged to the door. there was something blocking light on the otherside, but you were surprised to see sungho fall backwards upon opening. he shot awake, looking around before meeting you.

“baby why are you sleeping at the door? don’t you have practice?” you muttered.

“i told jaehyun i wouldn’t make it today. we’re not supposed to go to bed angry, my love. i didn’t want to leave you alone..”

“so we can continue our argument? no thanks.” you tried to push his body out of the doorframe but he wouldn’t move, instead standing to meet you.

“i don’t like it when we argue, y/n. i was out of line and should’ve took a second to consider things from your perspective.” he takes his hands up to your swollen face, frowning as you furrow your eyebrows.

“i just missed you, a lot.”

“you deserve so much, and i’m sorry i haven’t been able to give that to you recently. let me make it up to you today, pretty.” he kisses your forehead before pulling you into a hug.  “love you, sung. please let’s talk and not yell next time.” you sigh at the familiar scent embracing you once again.

“never in a million years would i yell at you again.”

© 2023 minkkumaz, all rights reserved support your writers by reblogging + giving feedback! it is greatly encouraged and appreciated. thank you! → why feedback + reblogging is so important. ~ (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡ if you'd like, donate to minkkumaz !

[equallyshaw]

my new york girl | adam fantilli

a fantilli x oc !

@tinafromny: new yorker in ohio part 1/?

4.5k likes, 209 comments.

|| @lhughes_06: im a meme...?

@tinafromny: yes sir u are 🦅

@edwards.73: am I a babygirl ?

@tinafromny: ew gross

@dylanduke25: the last one 🥺

@tinafromny: ik the carhartt .. so American

@adamfantilli: loml

@tinafromny: babygirl

@edwards.74: TINA

@tinafromny: ETHAN

@childrenoftheyost: we'll we get a tina from NY sighting soon?

@tinafromny: yknow it! have to see baby luca 🙈

@luca.fantilli: im not the baby...

@tinafromny: when you can grow a beard better than a...snap me

@luca.fantill: ADAM

@adamfantilli: ?

@gavin.brindley: baby luca 🫶🏻

@tina'sbff: Tina in ohio pt 1/1 u can never leave me again

@tinafromny: ummmmmmmm

@tina'sbff: she has a flight booked already i presume @adamfantilli

@adamfantilli: 🙃🙃

@parsonsny: Tina from ny is serving in the first and third 😌

@tinafromny: love y'all to jupitar and back !

@dylanduke25: did you have fun tho?

@tinefromny: its Ohio dyl...you cant possibly have fun in that state

@tylerduke: RUDE-- youre uninvited to the lake this summer

@alyssa_duke: wait but I like her??

@tinafromny: hi guys I went back (:

7.8k likes, 455 comments.

||

@lhughes_06: why everytime i come here i am abused

@tinafromny: because ur u and im me

@tinafromny: also ur an easy target

@dylanduke25: she said what she said

@gavin.brindley: the 4th is giving

@adamfantilli: its giving 'im running on 0 coffee this morning'

@Nolan_moyle: MOOSE

@seamscasey26: MOOSEY

@mackie.samo: he's passenger princess?

@tinafromny: yes bc he scares me when driving...as do all Canadians driving in this god for saken country

@tina'sbff: thats the new yorker in ya

@tinafromny: in the most brooklyn accent

@adamfantilli: passenger princess for life🥺

@lianabarzal: need u back in ny and get ur cute butt to long island

@tinafromny: omg babe yes -- im comin!

@adamfantilli: come back

@tinafromyny: I promise soon bubs

@nickblankenburg: pls do...he looks like a sad and wet puppy

@rutgetmcgroarty: the michigan hat...come back soon adam 🥺

@adamfantilli: soon!

@johnnyorlando: he's just ... ken (?) and youre barbie

@tinafromny: yeah and thats why he's not allowed inside my apt

@tina'sbff: he would moja doja house it so badly...

@tinafromny: we've already have enough rats in NY we don't need one inside

@adamfantili: blocking u rn

@luca.fantilli: ur a rat ada

@tinafromny: my rat ;)

@adamfantilli: love me some ny

87.9k likes, 1.2k comments.

||

@tinafromny: oh woah -- a hard launch?

@adamfantilli: ofc

@tinafromny: i feel so seen

@adamfantilli: anything for my love

@luca.fantilli: did you seriously have to steal my bestie ?

@adamfantilli: did you have to steal my girl????

@tinafromny: omg

@tinafromny: guys guys i can be two places at once !

@edwards.74: time travelor!!!!

@tinafromny: nah im just an avid ft user

@johnnyorlando: and insta liver

@tinafromny: yeah...because u won't let adam give me your # so buh bye orlando

@johnnyorlando: I have good reasons

@adamfantilli: take this to the live pls

@johnnyorlando: they grow up so fast 😢

@Luca.fantill: ur crying? im crying

@tinafromny: can confirm

@tina'sbff: ur alright canadian dude

@adamfantilli: ur alright too pigeon

@tinafromny: LONG LIVE MY PIGEON

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

hope you all enjoyed! please like and reblog if you did !!!

🤍🤍🤍🤍

Tags: @jayda12 @cuttergauthier @slafgoalskybaby

[yeonboy]

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐲 ♡ choi beomgyu.

He aches to be the one you would have snuck off with; to be the one you would want to share secret kisses with. He aches. And in that moment, he realizes his feelings have gone too far. They have caused him to stop being a true well-wisher to you; he is being selfish. He needs to take a step back. Or, Choi Beomgyu is head over heels in love with his best friend – and she simply doesn’t feel the same. 

❧ choi beomgyu x f. reader | 16+ | college!au ♡ best friends!au ♡ unrequited love!au ♡ angst ♡ drama.

❧ 4.7 k words

❧ warnings! profanity, an extreeeeeme amount of pining, one-sided feelings, unrequited love, jealousy, heartbreak, some self-deprication, one (1) mention of drinking and partying, one (1) mention of making out, maybe an innuendo or two! mostly just buckets full of mopey, pining gyu </3 and a hopeful (?) ending (:

❧ note! i wrote this because i was listening to m5’s whiskey and crying and thinking of gyu so take that how u will </3 please note that the lyrics are there just to set the tone, not to be taken too literally. i just love this song, man. please don’t hate me for the ending, i changed it thrice and then settled on this. it just felt perfect to me this way :”) also! pls excuse the lack of dividers, tumblr won't let me add them without hiding the post from the tags for some reason :/

❧ masterlist | inbox ⁘

i never knew that love was blind; till i was hers and she was never mine…

“So, I have a question for you.”

Beomgyu blinks at your words, letting the steel straw escape his lips as you pull his strawberry milkshake away from him. 

In fascination, he watches the way your lips wrap around the shiny tube in the exact place where his own had been. You slurp once and pull away, leaving a tint of pink – pinker than the drink, pinker than Beomgyu’s cheeks, pinker than the love-goggles that are permanently on his eyes when he’s with you – on the edge of the straw.

“Gyu?”

He wants to wipe that pink away with his lips, so bad. But your hand comes in with a tissue to clean that precious speck of your lipstick away, before he can even blink a second time.

Now he blinks again and looks up at you. God, you’re so gorgeous with your brows all furrowed and lips all pouty. He is so thoroughly ruined by you. Why does he continue to subject himself to this torture instead of keeping his distance like a sane person? 

He doesn’t fucking know.

“Y–yeah? What question?”

“A hypothetical one. Very important, nonetheless.” You stare into space with your eyes squinted, perfect cheekbones reflecting the light from the evening traffic beyond the glass walls of the cafe you’re seated in. “If long time BFFs happen to develop feelings for each other, should they confess?”

Beomgyu chokes on air, freezing like a solid block of ice.

What did you just ask?

“You know… Just imagine! Two people who have been the best of friends for ages. And then one of them realizes they’re in love with the other.” Your rounded eyes turn to him with a hint of worry in them. “Should they confess and live their dream? Or should they take this secret to their grave and protect their friendship?”

Beomgyu is a mess. 

Why the actual hell are you asking him that? Him – the one guy in your entire life that doesn’t have to imagine this specific situation because he’s been living it for years, now?

Now, he’s not panicking because he thinks you might have figured him out and are trying to pave a path to confession. No, he's self-aware enough to not be deluded. And his panic kinda stems from this very fact. 

He's self-aware enough to know that while he's looking at you and daydreaming of a picket fence and good-morning kisses, your mind is stuck on someone else. Choi Soobin. Older than him, taller than him, cuter than him. Guy checks all boxes of the type of guys you like so well, Beomgyu wonders if Soobin is the reason why you created those boxes in the first place.

So he's scared out of his mind that you're paving a road to confess to Soobin.

“Wow, aren’t you super helpful this evening?”

Your whine of frustration pulls him out of his spiral. He clears his throat and shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t know, man. That’s a very subjective question.”

“Subjective?” You tilt your head in thought and Beomgyu dreads the next words you would say before you have even formed them: “Okay, let me answer it subjectively first then! Like, imagine if you had feelings for me. I wouldn't want you to confess them to me, like, ever.”

Ouch. Not that he plans to ever confess them to you, but still pretty ouch.

Slightly hurt, he drags his milkshake back to himself and slurps away the rest of it before smacking his lips and shaking his head. “Well then subjectively, it’s the complete opposite for me.”

You look at him with an extremely confused frown. “But what if I lose the friendship because you don't feel the same?” 

This hypothesis is making him lose his damn mind. 

“I… well, what if we lose the chance to be something much more amazing just because you were scared?”

Moment of introspection: he hopes to all the powers in the universe that he isn’t losing the chance to be something much more amazing with you just because he’s scared. You don’t like him like that, you won’t ever like him like that. 

He’s being smart and self-preservative. Not scared.

You're lost in thoughts for a moment, and then you suddenly get up with a jump. Grinning at him, you lean down to peck his cheek and rush out of the cafe before he can even fully absorb the warm brush of your lips against his skin. “You're the best, Gyu, thank you so much!”

In a daze, he brings his fingertips to brush against the apple of his cheek. 

Why did you run away like that? Why did you sound so excited? Fuck, are you going to confess right now? 

He pulls his fingertips away. 

They are pink.

yeah i was reckless, but i let it burn; i let it burn, yeah…

“And if they show up hand-in-hand, then what? Then what, huh, Tyun? It’s easy for you to say I’m overthinking, but you aren’t thinking nearly enough!”

Kang Taehyun, the university’s Student Council member who is in-charge of overseeing the set-up for tomorrow's inter-uni basketball game – and also Beomgyu’s best friend of fifteen years – rolls his eyes so hard, it’s a wonder they don’t fall out of their sockets.

“Why do you keep setting yourself up for more pain, man? Why don't you try to invest these emotions somewhere they will be appreciated?”

“I can't just compel myself to start or stop feeling, dude…”

Shin Ryujin suddenly appears behind the bleachers that the two of them were covering with a banner, both hands planted in the back pockets of her jorts. They should look incredibly lame, but she somehow pulls them off. 

Beomgyu looks at her with wide eyes, wondering how much she heard.

“Yo, dumbass! Are you coming to the game tomorrow?” She’s smirking at him but there's a sparkle in her eyes that makes him chuckle at the name. 

“The name's Beomgyu.”

“That's what I said. So, are you coming?”

Beomgyu has actually been trying to think of an excuse to get out his regular movie night with you - and this sounds like the perfect one. He shrugs a shoulder. “Don’t really got any plans, so… Maybe I will.”

Taehyun gives him a weird look because he knows Beomgyu always had plans on Fridays.

Ryujin grins wide. “Perfect! Well, just two requests.”

He squints with interest. “What requests?”

“Wear my jersey! And, uh, don’t bring a date, please?”

She looks extremely bashful while saying the second part of the sentence. Which is somewhat jarring. It’s Shin fucking Ryujin, she eats men for breakfast. Why is she almost blushing?

But then Taehyun is cackling, which reminds Beomgyu of the first request she made. He immediately scowls. “Hey! I’m not wearing your jersey like some groupie!

She rolls her eyes, but her lips are quirked up because he didn’t say no to the second request. And he knows he won’t; you're the only one he ever asks to accompany him to places, and he's only going to the game tomorrow to escape you. 

“Your loss. Just so you know, boys are lining up to wear my jersey…”

Scoffing, Beomgyu goes back to handing Taehyun more pins. “Yeah right.”

“What? You don’t believe me?” Ryujin scoffs. “Watch this - ayo, Heeseung! Wanna wear my jersey tomorrow?”

A screech from the Students Council’s Vice Prez is followed by a high-pitched: “For real? Yes, please, I—” 

“Sike! Haha, gotcha, little bitch!”

Taehyun is doubled over in laughter and even Beomgyu can’t hold in his chuckles at the look of utter devastation on Heeseung’s face and victory on Ryujin’s. She raises an eyebrow when their gazes meet. “See?”

“How much did you pay him for this skit?”

She smacks his shoulder with an irritated whine. “You’re way too fucking cynical for no damn reason, dude. Okay, no jersey - but get a no. 17 placard for me, at least?” 

Rolling his eyes, he finally nods. 

“Great! See ya tomorrow, loser! Bye, Tyun!”

Taehyun waves at her as she leaves, while Beomgyu cups his hands around his mouth to yell out: “The name’s Beomgyu!”

“That’s what I said!”

“Man, it’s been so long since I’ve seen you actually enjoy talking to a girl.” 

Offended to his very bones, Beomgyu gapes at his best friend. “Dude! I enjoy talking to girls! I’m straight! Or did you forget how I threw up that one time when you kissed me during spin-the-bottle in seventh gra—”

“Yes, I remember!” Taehyun smacks him with a scowl on his face. “But that’s not what I meant. Gyu, you only ever talk to Y/N. Or have you not realized that? And look absolutely lovesick and physically pained while doing that.”

“Nahhhh, untrue. It’s just—” He cuts himself off to purse his lips. Taehyun is one-hundred percent correct. “It’s just a little difficult to mask my emotions all the time, but I manage…”

Taehyun just shakes his head in obvious disappointment. Then he tilts his chin up towards the direction where Ryujin is laughing around with some girls from the cheer team. “She obviously likes you a lot. Don’t hurt her.”

“I won’t,” he mumbles, lips forming a pout because this is so confusing. “But isn’t she basically signing up for the hurt if she’s doing this despite knowing where I stand with Y/N?

“Just…” Taehyun sighs. “Yeah, just don’t give her false hope.”

Beomgyu feels like he’s giving himself false hope every single time he talks to you, but what can be done.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

You end up texting him first, that night, to cancel tomorrow’s movie night. You apparently have “plans” with a friend. 

Bile rises up Beomgyu’s throat at the thought of you finally going on a date with Soobin. 

He can’t get himself to directly ask if that is the case, but fuck, why won’t you tell him? He goes to sleep with a pain in his chest that night.

the feeling it was bittersweet, realizing i was in too deep…

As fate would have it, Beomgyu bumps into you at the very gates of the basketball stadium, the next evening. You look like a dream in your short skirt and varsity jacket.

He feels nauseous at the thought of discovering Soobin trailing behind you with a large drink with two straws, or something.

“Uh… these are your plans?” He says in a way of greeting.

Your eyes widen when you see him, but then you pout. “Yeah! Why didn’t you tell me you were gonna be here? We would’ve come together!”

He immediately thinks of his promise to Ryujin and shakes his head. “Ah, actually… Shin Ryujin invited me.” 

Your mouth forms an O, a lost expression crossing your face. He’s never been great at reading people, but with the way his brain gets fuzzy around you, he’s doing an even worse job right now. Because he can absolutely not tell what this look on your face means. 

Right then, the girl herself arrives, a wistful smile on her face. “Thought I told you to not bring a date? And she’s wearing Chaewon’s jersey, hmph.”

“Oh! We didn't—”

You cut him off with a chuckle that somehow sounds a little strained. “Ah, I’m actually here with her sister!” 

Yunjin? He didn’t know you were friends with her… But that means no Soobin, right? Which might mean that no confession happened yesterday?

“Dude, Chaewon’s our Forward and our captain. No hard feelings!” Ryujin throws up a peace sign at you, and the two girls laugh.

After you leave to look for Yunjin, Ryujin stays back, smirking at him. But there’s a distinct look in her eyes that he can, for a change, recognize. Partly because the fuzz in his brain left along with you. And partly because he sees this look in the mirror everyday. 

“I don’t even stand a chance, do I?” She doesn’t sound upset, just… regretful.

Taehyun’s words come back to him. “Ryu, I—” 

“Nah, it’s fine. I knew what I was getting into, Choi.” She smiles, this time, pointing at the ‘17’ placard in his hands. “I’m gonna score a basket just for this, though. Cheer loudly, ’kay?”

she was a lesson – i had to learn, i had to learn, yeah…

Beomgyu had gone to the game only for Ryujin, not for you. He literally came here to escape movie night with you.

Yet, he sits in the stadium with his eyes straying from Ryujin’s great moves as Point Guard, reaching across the court, to land on you. It’s so annoying and makes him feel so helpless, he wants to scream. But there’s something magnetic about your presence that just won’t let him exist peacefully.

Is this how love is supposed to feel? Exhausting and painful at all times?

What adds to the exhaustion and pain is the way you are seated with your eyes bright and teeth on display, Yunjin on one side and…Soobin on the other. 

Though he saw it coming, Beomgyu still finds it really hard to swallow the pain that pricks at his throat at the sight of you giggling into Soobin’s side and looking at the guy with eyes full of a million stars. He tries to seek comfort in the way Soobin seems to reciprocate your happiness, but it’s really hard.

He isn’t even jealous at this point, he’s just tired. If he could stop himself from feeling so much, all the damn time, he really, really would.

The crowd suddenly cheers, drawing his attention away from you – thankfully – and back to the court. And then his eyes widen in surprise. Ryujin stands with her hands braced on her hips, gaze directly directed at him. Well – she said she would score a basket for him and she did. She lifts a hand to point at him, causing a louder cheer to roar across the stadium, and Beomgyu cannot hold back the loud chuckle that escapes him. He raises both his hands up in a double thumbs-up.

Somewhere from three rows below, Heeseung shouts out an expletive at him, but the game has resumed again so everyone around the guy asks him to shut up.

Like clockwork, Beomgyu’s gaze slowly floats back up at the stands, slowly zeroing in towards your seat – only to stop short. You’re not in your seat. And neither is Soobin.

Oh.

Oh.

Now again, Beomgyu should be prepared to face this as well. But he’s once again at a loss.

Unwittingly, his brain conjures up images of you and Soobin finding a secluded, dark corner to make out in. He envisions the brightness he just saw in both of your gazes, imagines the tinkling giggles you would release, pictures the darkening of your cheeks. 

And in that moment, he can’t find it in himself to be happy for you. He can’t pretend to like Soobin. 

He aches to be the one you would have snuck off with; to be the one you would want to share secret kisses with.

He aches.

And in that moment, he realizes his feelings have gone too far. They have caused him to stop being a true well-wisher to you; he is being selfish.

He needs to take a step back.

i used to try to forget her…

“Dude, the one thing I asked of you was to not hurt Ryujin. What the hell do you mean you’re taking her out?” 

Beomgyu pinches the bridge of his nose, almost regretting disclosing his plans to his best friend. But he needed Taehyun to be on his side to make sure he doesn’t chicken out. Although given the tone the guy is using with him right now, Beomgyu’s purpose might be failing either way. 

He puts his phone on loudspeaker, extracting a jacket from his closet to match the blue t-shirt he’s wearing.

“She was awarded MVP for yesterday’s game for the first time in this season. When I congratulated her on it, she called me her lucky charm—”

“Ugh, it’s as if she wants you to hurt her,” Taehyun murmurs and Beomgyu can hear the grimace in his voice through the phone.

“So I asked her if she wanted to celebrate the win with her lucky charm, and she said yes…”

Taehyun gives a sigh. “You literally flirted with her.”

“I did. Weren’t you the one telling me I should focus my feelings where they will be reciprocated?”

“Yes, you should. But do you even feel anything?”

“I do, yeah…” Immense sadness and despair with a brush of frustration. “I feel like I’m gonna have a good time with her.”

“Yeah, I don’t doubt that.” Taehyun gives another sigh. “Just be smart, okay? Don’t lead her on, Gyu.”

“I won’t, man.”

Settling on a black denim jacket that goes with his jeans and boots of the same color, Beomgyu leaves his dorm in the half a decade old Corvette his parents have permitted him to keep on campus. He’s meeting Ryujin at the cafe, which saves him from spending time in the car with her.

When he enters the cafe, though, Beomgyu begins to wonder if he has somehow offended some higher, superior power by some action of his, for which he is now being punished on the daily.

Because before he can even begin to look around for his date, a giggling Soobin catches his eye. He’s sitting facing the door, feeding spaghetti to his date. 

His date.

You.

Your back is to him, but Beomgyu can still see how you’ve styled your hair in a way that is different than usual. You’ve always complained that your hair is too silky to be held up in an updo—a remark Beomgyu can never understand because he, personally, loves the texture of your hair—and so this complicated bun feels so strange on you.

And the off-shoulder dress instead of your beloved full-sleeves. And the dangling earrings instead of your usual studs. And—

Holy fuck, this isn’t you.

This isn’t you.

Beomgyu is fully frozen in his spot now, stunned and panicked at the same time.

Soobin is on a date – with someone else.

Should he be happy or concerned? 

The sweat accumulating on his palms indicates the latter. 

“Gyu!”

The call snaps his attention to a corner of the cafe, where Shin Ryujin sits with a grin on her face. Pushing his lips up, he waves at her. But his eyes involuntarily swim back to Soobin once more – only this time, both the taller boy and his date, Kim Chaewon, the basketball captain, are looking at Beomgyu with matching smiles.

He doesn’t know how to respond. Or react. His smile is frozen on his lips and his hand is still up in a wave, however, so the couple take that to be his greeting and go back to talking among themselves. And Beomgyu pushes himself to finally walk towards Ryujin’s table.

“I see you already spotted what I was dying to gossip about,” Ryujin grumbles with a scowl when he settles opposite her. 

Beomgyu blinks. “Uh… Soobin?”

“Who?” This time Ryujin is the one to give a clueless blink. But then her eyebrows rise. “Oh, the boy. Yeah, in a way, I guess? But Chaewon, obviously. She’s finally on a date with her crush of a whole ass year.”

What? “O–oh?”

The waiter comes over to take their orders, right then. Beomgyu asks for a club sandwich and beer, while Ryujin chooses an extra cheese loaded pizza and a virgin mojito.

“You don’t want me drunk around you, loser.” She winks at him but her smile is forced enough to make guilt unfurl in Beomgyu’s chest. “Anyways! Chaewon! She’s finally winning at life and it’s all thanks to your girl.”

Beomgyu’s heart jumps up to his throat for multiple reasons.  

His girl? You? Who else could it even be.

He drily swallows. “My…?”

“She was so hard at work during yesterday’s match! Fuck knows what magical words she said to both of them but they finally stopped their cat and mouse chase for good.” A fond look enters Ryujin’s gaze as she peeks past him to look at the couple. “It was sickening, watching Chaewon pine day in and out. Kinda like it is to watch you.”

Ryujin is laughing at her own joke, but Beomgyu’s mind is stuck on the information she just imparted. “Yesterday’s match?”

“Yeah. She arrived with Yunjin, remember? They both sat with Soobin and talked about Chaewon the entire time. Then she said something to Chae during break, and boom – this scardy ass dude was finally asking Chae out at the end of the match!”

Oh, fuck. This is why you were sitting with Soobin yesterday.

You were setting him up with Chaewon. 

This is probably why you have been hanging out with the guy and generally interacting so much with him recently as well.

Wait, was this why you asked him that question about having feelings for a best friend? As far as his general university knowledge goes, Chaewon and Soobin have been best friends since before college.

Oh fuck, indeed.

Beomgyu really blew things out of proportion and let his overthinking mind carry him away.

“Speaking of – when do you plan to confess, Choi?”

Beomgyu scoffs at the question. “Never.”

Ryujin looks genuinely confused at the response. “What? Why?”

“She doesn’t feel the same, Ryu. And she’s my best friend. I can’t risk it.”

“How do you know she doesn’t feel the same?”

That’s – an odd question. One that Beomgyu feels like should be very obvious to answer, but when he opens his mouth to do just that, he has to shut it back again. Because ‘I just know’ is going to sound as stupid out loud as it does in his head. 

But then what else does he have? He thought you had feelings for someone else but that was obviously not the case. 

“I… I mean isn’t it obvious? She would’ve hinted at it… said anything at all if she felt anything…”

The moment Ryujin narrows her eyes and clicks her tongue, he knows he messed up. “Like you have? You’re sitting on your hands, too, dumbass. Does she even know that you don’t go on dates?”

“I’m on a date right now.”

“Keep talking like that and you’ll leave this date with a black eye.”

The waiter arrives with their food, and as Ryujin dives right in, Beomgyu takes a moment to actually think about what the girl has been saying.

You not having feelings for someone else doesn’t automatically imply that you’ve suddenly stopped viewing Beomgyu platonically. Which is why he doesn’t want to suddenly drop his plans of moving on and go back to pining over you.

He wishes for this to be a smooth transition – getting rid of his romantic feelings for you while also staying friends. But if he pays mind to what Ryujin just said, he will block this way for himself.

Because the moment he confesses, it will be a one-way street. You’ll never talk to him again and he’ll be too embarrassed to even show you his face.

Now, of course, he isn’t even considering what could happen if you actually ended up reciprocating – because he’s done enough of that for years now and he’s honestly… tired.

Loving you, as he has concluded time again, is painful and exhausting. He just wants to be happy again.

“How about you stop giving me love advice and start looking for someone new to crush on?” Beomgyu raises an eyebrow at Ryujin, who picks up an olive from her pizza to throw at his face with a scowl.

But then when she dissolves into giggles, sprinkling her happiness and beauty all over him, Beomgyu has to pause to wonder if she doesn’t actually need to look for someone new to crush on.

He offers to drop her off at the end of the date and Ryujin thanks him for the treat. His hands feel a little clammy when she grins at him with a tilt of her head, short hair flying up with the wind.

“Will… will I see you again?”

“Uh, yeah? You see me everyday, dumbass.” Ryujin gives a chuckle but it doesn’t sound natural.

“No, I mean – like this. On a date.”

Her shoulders deflate and her smile leaves her face. Pursing her lips, she looks at him in what could only be defined as disappointment. “This wasn’t a date, Beomgyu. And I won’t be your rebound.”

He’s not asking her to be – except, maybe he is. He doesn’t know anymore.

She seems to know more than him because she gives him another one of those wry smiles of hers and pats his shoulder. “Tell her how you feel and get out of this stupid limbo. I can be your shoulder to cry on, but not a heart to play with. Good night, loser.”

He truly feels like a loser when she walks away from his car.

but now i smile when i remember.

Beomgyu has heard people talk a great deal about ‘right person, wrong time’ or ‘wrong person, right time’, but he has never felt the gravity of it the way he does now.

You’re sitting on the bleachers with Lee Heeseung and giggling your heart away like he’s the funniest man alive. Heeseung, to his credit, is looking at you with a sparkle in his eyes that rivals the entire galaxy.

And as Beomgyu watches the scene from next to the water dispenser in a discrete corner, the bottom of his stomach feels strangely calm. 

It’s been a week since he had that confrontation with Ryujin. He didn’t exactly take her advice and run to confess to you, but he certainly did drop hints. And he certainly did observe your reactions.

At the end, he ruefully finds himself exactly where he always has been – watching you offer your affections to someone else from afar.

“How long has he been keeping this in?” he asks around a scoff when Heeseung shows you some magic trick and gloats in your excited clapping.

Taehyun hums as he screws the lid of the water dispenser tight and dusts his hands off to come stand next to Beomgyu. “Fuck knows. I think he’s always smiled a little too brightly at her whenever—oh my God, did you see that? Butterfingers! I could see that card from here. Making a joke out of the best card trick in the books!”

Beomgyu laughs at his friend’s grumbles. Then he gives a sigh. “She looks happy, doesn’t she?”

“Yeah, she does. But I don’t really think she’s on the same page as Lee. Or even you for that matter.” Taehyun settles on the ground and Beomgyu follows his lead. “She’s enjoying her college days like a normal uni student. And maybe you should too, Gyu. Enough of this pining, enough of being in love. Don’t you want to get drunk off your ass and makeout with some ditzy freshman at a party?”

Beomgyu’s horror must show on his face because Taehyun snorts when their eyes meet. 

“Okay, maybe not all of it. But… we’re young, buddy. You’ll have plenty of time to fall in love. Hopefully this time with someone who loves you more?”

Beomgyu watches the way you lean closer to Heesung to whisper something in his ear, and as the guy’s cheeks grow red in response, he frowns to himself. 

“What about all those times when she seemed jealous? Or upset I wasn’t paying attention to her?”

“Dude, for real?” Taehyun punches his shoulder. “You get like that too when I’m not available at your every beck and call.”

Beomgyu slowly exhales, leaning back on his palms and tilting his head up to let the sunlight wash over his face.

He really is stepping out of his delusions, this time.

You don't like him like that. You don't have feelings for him.

You and him are going to remain just friends.

He's finally ready to face the fact and move forward.

“Yo, loser! Wanna play catch?”

He’s smiling even before he has opened his eyes. Taehyun clears his throat in an exaggerated way with his eyebrows raised. “Never seen you grin that brightly in a while, my man…”

He looks around towards the source of the voice, his grin turning into laughter at the evil gleam in Ryujin’s eyes as she hurtles the basketball towards him.

Somehow managing to catch it with an enraged gasp, Beomgyu wastes no time in chasing the girl with it.

Somewhere in his peripheral vision, he notices the way you have cuddled up with Heesung and how the two of you are laughing at his antics with Ryujin.

When he briefly meets your eye, you give him a thumbs up with your grin.

And for the first time in years, he is able to smile back at you without an ounce of pain in his heart.

and i was so young till she kissed me like a whiskey… like a whiskey.

FIN.

© yeonboy 2023 // do not steal, copy or repost. respect your local content creators, kaythanks.

[carlyraejepsans]

i lowkey disagree w u on ur position on fictional ships and certain portrayals of topics such as incest and pedophilia, but oh my fucking god to have the fucking. AUDACITY to accuse someone of real life pedophila and incest because they MENTIONED being NEUTRAL on a certain topic?? like you didnt even say you think fictional incest is cool and rad or wtvr u afaik (which. even if u did that ask would Still be abhorrent) but ur explicitly Neutral and are VERY carful to tag shit and i just. 1/2

cut for length and also sensitive topics

i cannot fucking imagine accusing someone of such a horrid act with such conviction bc u SLightly DIsagree on a topic. jfc. i block tags and if ur conversations ever drive me over the edge id Unfollow. im so so sorry people are such fucking assholes man. i hope people gain some sense abt these topics im so sorry

yeah no i completely respect your opinion. and i do know where it's coming from. to tell you the truth (basic decency of tagging triggers aside), i DO find most of those fanon portrayals to be cheap and uncalled for a good majority of the time, at least from a literary standpoint. things like dating a minor or your own sibling have serious implications on a character's moral code and interpersonal dynamics where most characters would... not fucking do that! and the moment you don't engage with those implications, it becomes either incredibly ooc or altogether shallow. some people act like a topic being problematic makes it inherently complex and rich, when it can be as tropey and flat as any other "safe" topic. being problematic doesn't make you interesting etc. my point isn't arguing over literary value, it's more like... there's people behaving horribly and cruelly towards the AUTHORS, and making disgusting assumptions like the one that was made against me, all because of fiction you can always filter out at the end of the day (assuming basic tagging etiquette is respected ofc) and like. that's too far. nobody deserves to be treated like this.

not to mention, the "incest fiction recs"/"pro incest posts" those freaks mentioned were literally 1) me gushing about revolutionary girl utena, a deeply feminist and self-aware series that unpacks the misogyny behind anime incest tropes by treating that abuse REALISTICALLY as patriarchal manipulation from a male relative and showing how the female victim suffers and emancipates herself from it and 2) me being annoyed that hs showed one of its characters suffering from csa without acknowledging it AS abuse, even when it would've been not just the morally decent thing to do, but also a genuinely good addition to his character arc (apparently it does do that in the endstory, but i didn't know it at the time). those are both posts about realistic, condemning, and well-thought depictions of incestuous abuse in fiction—which is the only way i ever enjoy the topic btw—but that didn't stop these people from deciding i had an incest fetish and harassing me for weeks on end to the point of accusing me of sexually abusing my teenage brother. like you said, it would be a ghoulish way to treat someone even if their assumption had been right (and it wasn't), but it's like they saw the topic being mentioned and that fact alone was unforgivable, regardless of context. and this crap happens to people all the time! if that's not fucking stupid i don't know what is

[jasper-tarot-reader]

u know who I am >:33

Here's my question! Will my contract with kyubey be safe and go as desired!

I need you to answer this because I thought I summoned kyubey yesterday but I accidentally summoned a demon..good thing he stopped pulling my soul out of my body when he figured I hated demons and told me I wsnt worthy to become a mg...

Pay attention everyone: This is not how you approach people for free readings. Don't worry, we'll go through the different problems here!

Number 1: Overfamiliarity

No, I do not know the querent in any way other than seeing them harass mutuals and non-mutual Tumblr blogs about their magical girl practice and trying to make everyone else do their job for them. Even within the scope of this blog, they have told me very little about them and keep coming to me with what is essentially the same question.

Number 2: Seeking A "Right" Answer

This querent is not looking for insight in their practice. They are asking a yes/no question and clearly want the answer to be yes.

I literally don't even know what their practice is about. I've tried poking around their blog to learn more (which is ABOVE AND BEYOND what a tarot reader should have to do) and I left feeling more confused.

Number 3: Referencing A Thing I Know Nothing About

As previously established, I don't know about Kyubey. I'm not part of Mahoublr, even if I'm poking at it with another blog to observe them. From what little understanding I've gained of the series since then, though, I'd certainly describe that shithead little cat thing as a demon, personally.

Honestly, the god of your chosen magic system turning you down blatantly is the clearest sign you're ever going to get. I can't help you there, buddy.

Number 4: Hey Jasper, What Was That About Harassment?

Yeah, this person and their alternate blog @/sylviasideblog have been pestering me, a few mutuals, and then some random IRL mahou blogs that I've seen in the pop culture magic/pagan tags because they can't take "just do your own damn work" for an answer.

Anyway, I hope this was informational for everyone. Do not harass this person on either of their blogs. Just block and move on.

~Jasper

[crowleyholmes]

Top 3 posts of 2023

I saw @chernozemm's top 10 post (which. jesus christ that's some fantastic art go LOOK AT THIS <3 (and cherno I hope you don't mind!)) and got curious about my own so here's my top 3 of 2023 :D

#1 [X] - Crowley on the Bentley

This was one of the first good omens drawings I posted and I was so shocked at the love it received I'm still so ;u; whenever I look at some of the comments and tags on it <3

#2 [X] - The hug comic (click on X for the full comic <3)

GOD I spent so much time on this but I think it was worth it in the end, and it's hilarious how I can tell how I improved from the first panels I worked on to the last ones I finished :D

#3 [X] - Picnic at the Park

This one marked the end of a bad art-block, where I just sat myself down and said okay, listen. It doesn't have to be good. You just have to finish something. And you have to enjoy the process. Whether it turns out looking good or not is secondary. Just draw and have fun. And it ended up being one of my favorite drawings I did this year :')

[iactuallytryingtolovemyself]

I feel bad for freezerburn fans, they go into the tag but instead of seeing cool art or fics they see discourse. my fucken god

some really good advice!!

1. Let people enjoy things!!

u don't have to like certain things and that cool! but that also means some don't like other things, that's literally none of ur business!! just get out of there, block them, blacklist the tag for all I care. it's important to just let people be with their interests!! you'll feel much better if u just mind ur business!! u get to do things u like and they get to do things they like!! everyone wins!!

2. Sometimes u don't have to post every thought u have

remember not everything has to be posted!!! It's okay to dislike things but it's another thing to bitch about it. do I also not like certain ships? absolutely!! but do I bitch about it and start insulting people about it?? no I don't! Sometimes it's okay for a thought to stay in ur head, it's okay for a meme to stay in ur photo app. It can stay there and not go on the internet. It's not whether ur right or not it's whether ur being an absolute asshole or not.

u can post about ur opinions! and here's an good example:

I don't particularly like this ship, mostly bcs I prefer them as friends. ✅

(reasonable explanation, not attacking or insulting anyone)

here a bad example:

fuck u, hope u die, ur delusional if u ship this instead of mine!! ❌

(don't do this, ur absolutely unreasonable and ur attacking people)

remember people will read ur post and they will react if u insult them. many will misunderstand and think the reason why people are reacting is bcs of the ship and not bcs they just insulted the reader. Don't be surprised by the consequences of ur actions!! if u punch someone in the face don't be shocked if they punch u back!

As I said it's not about whether ur right or not it's about u being an asshole or not

[finniestoncrane]

Ok I know I already sent in an order and it’s super last minute, but I had THE most unhinged thought cross my mind and I am currently CLAWING at the walls over it.

Putting in an order for delivery, black coffee, steak (Gotham bc I am once again in my Anthony Carrigan era LMAO), with a side of sliders, half sandwich, corn on the cob, and toasted peanuts. Finnie, u are honest to god a LITERAL legend, thank u sm for ur services 🙏🙏

gotham!zsasz x female!reader, word count: 400 content (warnings): praise!kink, lil bit of punishment, sub/dom if you squint hard enough the kitchen is now closed! 🔞minors dni🔞 • masterlist • kofi link • tag: finnie1500 (to follow or to block) a/n: mia i was thinking of carmen the whole time is that weird? maybe...💚

"And what do you say? For interrupting my hit? And taking the credit?"

Victor's fingers tensed, thumb and pointer pressed into either side of your face, cheeks pushed together, unable to speak clearly. But you still answered him, dutifully, though mumbled almost to the point of incomprehension.

"I'm sorry."

"Good girl!" He jumped back excitedly, a patronising smile on his face. "That's a very good girl! A shame you weren't this well-behaved earlier."

You wondered how long this punishment was going to last, but you knew better than to ask, or to even act as though you weren't enjoying it. Which you were. Wrists cuffed behind you, kneeling on the floor in front of him, mouth drooling as he smirked and sneered and threw his praise towards you.

"So what have we learned today?"

You'd learned that Victor was incredibly posessive over his assigned tasks. That he was controlling, a perfectionist, who didn't need, and didn't want, and certainly didn't ask for, any help whatsoever. And you were currently learning that despite whatever feelings he might have for you, either romantic or purely carnal, he wasn't one for letting any misbehaviour slip by. It might not be the usual revenge that was served by him. You didn't fear for your life. But you could feel the flush of embarrassment on your cheeks when he opened his eyes wide and spoke to you as though you were an idiot. And you could sense the heat building in you, an ache in your cunt as you hoped he might punish you even further.

"Well? What have you learned?"

You mumbled something that you hoped was the right answer, trying to keep quiet in case you might have the answer wrong. You could hear his boots pounding on the floor as he stepped up as close to you as he could get.

"Say it louder. I want to hear you."

"I've... I've learned that... uh... you're the boss."

He crossed his arms and looked towards the ceiling in a dramatic show.

"Hm... good, but not good enough. We'll have to keep going."

You smiled, and he smiled back. It was a futile punishment, but he could pretend he was at least getting some semblance of revenge against you. Even though it might be backfiring completely. Why would you want to behave if this was what you received?

[wweassets]

Okay I could NEVER be as good as the OG calendar anon but I thought I’d make one since they’ve gone missing. Hopefully y’all like it! <3

January: Happy New Year! Dirty Dominik Mysterio is looking forward to another year of criminal acts and peggings from Mami, he’s so excited at the Judgement Day New Years party that he’s stripped out of all his clothes and has two bottles of champagne going, he pours one dramatically into his open mouth, letting some of it drip out the sides of his lips and down his slender body, the other is held just in front of his dick and balls. He’s holding the bottle there deliberately, not letting us get a look at his junk; only Mami gets to see the goods.

February: Picture the scene: Valentines Day, fancy Italian restaurant, candles everywhere, rose petals surrounding the table. Sitting opposite each other is Tony D and Stacks. Adriana Rizzo is in the background serving cunt (& meatballs!). The two men are sitting so close together, their faces only an inch or two apart, looking lovingly into each other’s eyes. The tablecloth obscures the view for everyone but us, and we can see that under the table Stacks is secretly rubbing his foot against the hardening bulge of The Don.

March: Class is back in session for the Spring Semester at Chase U, but Riley Osborne was late for one of Andre Chase’s lectures. Everyone knows bad behaviour has to be punished! Riley is seen bent over Andre’s desk at the front of the class, his pants dropped to his ankles, with Mr Chase winding his palm back around ready to spank the bare ass of his student. The MVP of Chase U, Duke Hudson is also there, sitting at his desk but with a flushed red face, using a textbook to cover the boner he’s got from watching his twunky tag team parter getting spanked.

April: There’s an Easter egg hunt happening at the PC but Carmelo Hayes (dressed in his slutty crop top and a pair of tiny gym shorts) has been distracted by a trail of candy on the floor leading him into the locker room. His eyes are locked into the candy until they appear on the locker room bench in front of him and stop abruptly in between two powerful oiled up thighs belonging to Trick Williams. Trick is completely naked with a seductive look on his face and is holding an Easter egg in front of his beautiful dick, almost teasing Melo to dig in.

May: The Cinco de Mayo celebrations are underway for Angel Garza & Humberto Carrillo in some kind of dance club. You can tell they they were initially dressed in traditional clothes but they have been thrown to the side and they’re now moving their nearly naked and sweaty bodies along to the music. The men are in tiny thongs that leave VERY little to the imagination. They’re dancing on small tables while everyone gazes lustfully at them and their sensual moves, drawn to the cousins curvy and juicy asses. The camera catches Angel mid twerk, while a horny tío slips a few dollars into Humberto’s bulging thong. The Lotharios can’t help it, they love to show off!

June: Summer is the perfect time for volleyball! It’s a Raw vs Smackdown volleyball game for brand supremacy. Austin Theory & Grayson Waller vs The Creeds. Both teams are wearing speedos that are colour coordinated with their brand. We all know Austin’s is not stranger to a blue speedo 😉 Both teams are shining; is it the sun? sweat? baby oil? who cares, they look like gods! Austin is stood to the left of the picture, his shapely ass spilling out of the tiny blue speedo, watching his glistening partner soaring through the air to slap the ball. On the other side of the image, Julius is jumping through the air hoping to block Grayson’s shot, his heavy shlong protruding obscenely from his speedo. Brutus is still face-down on the sand after initially saving the point, his thick ass pointing to the sky.

July: CAAAAW 🦅MURICA 🇺🇸 happy 4th of July y’all! Cody Rhodes loves America so much that he even sleeps in a bed with an American flag duvet! This candid picture was taken of him just after waking up, one half of his body still tangled in the bedsheet, the other above it, with him laying on his stomach. Silly Cody was very tired the night before and went to bed completely naked, so here he is presenting his smooth All American bubble butt to the camera. A sliver of morning sunlight peeking through the window is perfectly illuminating the curves of his body and ass. Gawd bless the U S A.

August: Bash in Berlin is the first WWE PPV to ever happen in Germany, so what better way to celebrate the occasion that with some German delicacies. WWE has superstars doing promotional work across the country. Oh no, looks like someone forgot their lederhosen 🫢 Ludwig Kaiser will have to be naked instead I guess? He’s in a German tavern, holding a massive overflowing plate of thick German sausages in front of his lean muscular body. Luckily for him, one of the thickest sausages is dangling off the plate in the perfect position to cover his own huge meat.

September: Harvesting season has begun for Brooks Jensen and he’s busy trying to fix this goshdarn tractor. Farming is sweaty work so he’s thrown his plaid shirt to the side. He’s stretching himself across the giant tractor wheel to fix the problem, forgetting that he’s wearing a jockstrap under his denim bootyshorts, and his stretching has given us all an eyeful of his fat country ass framed by a few flimsy bits of fabric. Typical himbo!

October: It’s not such a happy Halloween for Dragon Lee since he’s being chased down backstage by cock-hungry zombies! 😨 he was preparing for a match when the outbreak happened so was caught off guard by the attack, they clawed at his glistening body and tore some of his tiny trunks leaving parts of his ass exposed for all to see.

November: It’s Thanksgiving for the WWE roster and many of them are sitting around a long table, ready to feast. But wait, that’s not a turkey in the middle of the table… that’s Jey Uso’s giant ass! He’s completely naked On a large serving platter and surrounded by seasonal vegetables while his humongous cheeks are being used as the table centrepiece and they look as shiny and delicious as a well-basted turkey!

December: Some people need to just stop fighting and kiss-and-make-up, none moreso than CM Punk and Seth Rollins, and what better way to do that than meeting underneath the mistletoe. They’re both wearing adorable Christmas jumpers but the kiss they’re giving each other is far from adorable. It’s nasty, passionate, sloppy, tongues deep inside each others mouths. Punk’s hand has slipped under Rollins’ pants and has a vice grip on his asscheek, while Seth has one of his wrapped around Punk’s throat. Don’t you just love Christmas?!

WELL HELLO CALENDAR ANON (thats what im gonna name u now)... THIS WAS A FUCKING SHOCK! and also so funny cuz costume contest anon sent theirs in just before dfsjsadjadsf

I LOVE IT THO LIKE?? DOUBLE THE SLUTTY CALENDAR FUN?? THANK U BOTH

these are legit so hot like:// gonna need u to do more too pls....

🥉

seth and punk

🥈

angel and humberto

🥇

jey uso

how about yall? double the fun today!!