#return of pinstripe

[c0smiccom3t]

So..... regarding those news about Nicholas Kole's crash 5.....

I'm going to explode.

[the-chattering-tower]

I love scrying pinstripe on like every goddamn dragon ever and then when it comes to brewing even a single copy of the damn thing I am suddenly cartwheeling through three different circles of hell

[top-tier-tickles]

HOLY FUCK.

[lagomort]

what do u like most about the modern medieval album? the lyrics, melodies, relatability, general vibes etc?

(For the context of my Other Readers, my tags on this post.)

Oh! I've liked Something for Kate for ages - my first album of theirs I heard and clicked with was Leave Your Soul To Science back in 2012, their last major release (side note, best song on that one is This Economy). When I like music artists I kind of get a little crazy on it on account of my Hyperfixating Nature, so I do have a lot of opinions on this band and this album.

Paul Dempsey (who, another side note, has his own solo stuff as well that's insanely good. I think I might like it more than the main SFK stuff he does?) writes extremely fascinating lyrics. They're complex and, much like a lot of the music I like, uh... pretty morose. I like to listen to music that puts me in mind of a specific kind of emotion or story, and when I listen to a SFK song I get that. It rules. I feel like I can imagine a really miserable animatic to these, haha.

To a degree it reminds me of how I feel when I listen to The Mountain Goats, but mostly in the idea of telling a story in metaphor rather than anything else. Conceiving a snapshot of a moment or person or idea and then breaking it down through lyrics. The Modern Medieval has a few really cool ones for that - I'd probably say Come Back Before I Come Back To My Senses and Our Extinguished Colleague are my favourites.

In addition to all that Paul Dempsey's voice kicks ass and the instrumentation also kicks ass. Paul Dempsey's not known outside of Australia but here he's fairly renowned for his lyricism and voice, at least in alternative circles.

I hope that made sense all together! I could say more but I should probably cut myself off before this turns into some kind of novel.

[okanefutan]

tag dump ;

[catliker49]

Detective Wally on the Case!

Huzzah! (My new favourite word currently! Hehe) I have returned once more to share my doodle... of Wally... In a trench coat!!! I Love anything Pinstriped I wish my hands weren't so wobbly but there you have it! OH! And Ditto and Applelin are so Lovely <:O( I need so much merch of them.. PLEASE!!

[snowyh2o]

Just a random thought about how Alastor and Vox must’ve been really good friends before everything fell apart. Because Alastor knows how to make a video ad, he knows how to set things up for a movie/video shoot, things that had nothing to do with his medium, that he probably learned how to do because of Vox, because he was willing to try and learn from or for Vox. And Vox literally welcomes Alastor back home when he finds out he’s returned, has literally counted the years Alastor’s been missing when no one else seemed to know, and fashioned his clothing style to match Alastor’s (assuming it’s not just a case of everyone gets a pinstripe suit!), uses the same techniques Alastor taught Charlie about how smiling can be a tool to keep you ahead of the game.

And how it all fell apart and it wasn’t just Vox that was hurt in the process. Because you can’t tell me the man who hates TVs and modern tech due to its association with Vox doesn’t feel anything for what friendship they had and lost. Who snarls at the mere sight of him on a screen (admittedly while also dissing Alastor), who went straight back to his radio tower to diss Vox right back (and absolutely crush him lol), before threatening him against taking action, privately, twice. Alastor’s just better at hiding how much it’s affected him, and doesn’t let the bitterness of what used to be consume his every waking thought.

And maybe that’s the difference between how they view their old relationship and how the fandom seems to view it. Alastor’s upset about it, sure. He’s bitter now about Vox and everything Vox represents because he’s a past friendship that failed, but he’s also moved on with his life. Vox hasn’t. Vox still obsesses over Alastor, in the way he dresses, the way he talks, how he presents himself. It’s all reminiscent of Alastor. And when he finds out Alastor’s returned, the first thing he does is draw attention to how Alastor’s back! Talk in a roundabout way about how much he’s missed him! Has wondered where he’s been? Sends a spy into the hotel to, well, spy on Alastor! And when that doesn’t work, Vox continues to stalk Alastor through his drones instead. (And then gets off on seeing Alastor get beat up.)

Vox very much has not moved on from whatever friendship they’d had before. He hasn’t moved on from Alastor. (Or from his heavily implied obsessive crush).

We don’t know what happened between them, aside that it’s complicated and sad, that they were friends, and now they’re very much not, and that maybe part of the reason why is because Alastor rejected Vox’s request to join his team (upend his entire life to partner with Vox, assuming Alastor always worked solo and what the Vees currently have is what Vox had wanted with Alastor with his request). We can assume maybe part of why they fell apart was because Vox wanted something more from his relationship with Alastor, something Alastor could not and did not want to give him. Or maybe they just grew apart, grew distant. Vox constantly upgrading and changing and keeping up with the newest trends, chasing whatever new Thing that’ll keep him relevant, while Alastor remained set in his ways because he’s not looking for the approval of the masses.

Anyways, all this to say: when I, and I assume most other OneWayBroadcast fans talk about one-sided radiostatic, it is specifically about how Vox has a one-sided romantic/sexual attraction/crush on Alastor, that Alastor does not return, that has now turned into a one-sided obsession over Alastor. Not that their entire friendship was completely one-sided. I think saying that Vox was the only one who was ever invested in their relationship is a rather bad faith interpretation of Alastor’s character, but also does not do their relationship justice at all. It minimizes Vox’s responsibility in the fallout of their friendship, and puts the blame only on Alastor. It takes away all the juicy complexities of Vox’s character, how he’s bad person who’s done and is doing bad things, and paints him as an innocent victim to “Alastor’s manipulation”.

That’s not to say Alastor was completely innocent in the fallout either. But I hear a lot more about how the fandom woobifies Vox in their relationship than I do Alastor.

[valkyriexo]

idk why but i just wanted to show you this

Behave | Yang Jeongin

ᑉ³pairing; Jeongin x Reader

ᑉ³genre; Smut MDNI

ᑉ³warnings; Spanking, dirty talk, swearing, use of 'slut', 'Brat', 'Good girl' , Degrading, P in V, Rough sex , teasing, Masterbation (F) , oral (m. receiving) hair pulling, begging, edging, Brat and brat tamer dynamic, Mean dom Jeongin. Smut. SMUTTT minors do NOT interact

ᑉ³Authors Note; NAHH BECAUSE THE WAY THAT I WENT FERAL THE SECOND I SAW THIS. I HAD LIKE 100 DIFFERENT SENARIOS RACING IN MY HEAD. Also, i wrote the whole thing then tumblr deleted it, so I had to rewrite it. Sorry it took so long.

Jeongin, who one day receives an invitation to a gala hosted by Alexander McQueen. The event was a glamorous affair, with people dressed to the nines, mingling and chatting animatedly.

You, who didn't want to go, but knowing how significant it was for him, of course you were going to be there to support him.

You had excused yourself a few minutes ago to go to the bathroom and reapply your lipstick.

Jeongin looked incredibly handsome tonight, practically radiating allure. His perfectly tailored pinstripe suit jacket highlighted his broad shoulders, while his crisp white dress shirt clung to his lean, athletic frame, showcasing every defined muscle.

Muscles you wanted to kiss, and bite on while he fucked you.

You always had a way of driving him wild, but tonight, it seemed, you were in a particularly mischievous mood.

You finally returned, your lips now a perfect shade of red, and immediately caught Jeongin's eye. He smiled, eyes twinkling with amusement, as you approached. His hair was styled to perfection, a few loose strands falling over his forehead, adding a hint of casual elegance to his polished look, and looked like he had just stepped out of a fashion magazine. His presence was magnetic, and you couldn't help but feel a rush of pride and excitement knowing that this stunning man was yours.

"All freshened up?" he said smiling at you.

You nodded, giving him a little twirl to show off your look. "Had to make sure I look my best for my handsome boyfriend."

Jeongin's gaze traveled over you, taking in every detail. The long, elegant dress you wore clung to your curves in all the right places, the deep emerald fabric shimmering under the ballroom lights. The dress had two daring slits up the sides, revealing tantalizing glimpses of your legs as you moved. The neckline was sophisticated yet alluring, framing your collarbones and drawing attention to the delicate necklace you wore. You looked absolutely stunning, and Jeongin's admiration was evident in his eyes.

"You look incredible," he murmured, his voice filled with genuine awe. His hand found its way to your waist, pulling you a little closer. "Absolutely breathtaking."

You leaned in, a playful smile on your lips, and pressed a soft, innocent kiss to his lips. "And you look incredibly handsome," you whispered, your breath warm against his.

You take this opportunity to slip your underwear into his coat.

By accident, of course.

Jeongin felt the soft material and looked down. Instantly, his cheeks flushed a deep shade of red, and he glanced around anxiously, hoping no one had noticed

"What is this?" Jeongin murmured, feeling the soft material between his fingers.

You glanced up at him with exaggerated innocence in your eyes. "I don't know, Jeongin," you replied with faux sweetness. A smirk curled at the corners of your lips as you tilted your head slightly. "Why don't you find out?" you suggested, your tone intentionally bratty, relishing in teasing him

His hand tightened on your waist, and he stole another quick kiss before pulling back, a slightly dazed expression on his face. "You're gonna kill me, y/n," he murmured, his voice low and husky.

You gave him a coy look. All you wanted was a little bit of attention from him instead of having it all focused on the event.

But instead, he just gave you a playful scolding and then smoothly excused himself to mingle with someone else.

Rolling your eyes, you sighed inwardly, feeling a mixture of irritation and amusement. It seemed like Jeongin was determined to play by the rules tonight, even if it meant ignoring your playful antics.

Oh, well.

There were plenty of other ways to have fun and grab attention tonight.

With a sly smile, you sauntered onto the dance floor, your eyes scanning the room until they locked onto Jeongin. He was engaged in conversation with a group of people, his attention fully absorbed by the discussion. As the lively music filled the air, you spotted someone who seemed equally eager to let loose and have a good time, and you didn't hesitate to join them, seamlessly blending into the rhythm of the music.

As you danced with the stranger, you couldn't help but steal glances at Jeongin, who seemed increasingly agitated by your behavior. His brows furrowed, and his jaw clenched as he watched you, his usual calm demeanor replaced by a simmering frustration.

With each flirtatious move you made, Jeongin's anger seemed to grow, his grip tightening on his drink as he struggled to maintain his composure. Finally, unable to contain his emotions any longer, he abruptly excused himself from the group he was talking to and strode purposefully towards you.

"Y/N, what are you doing?" Jeongin's voice cut through the music, his tone a mixture of frustration and concern.

"What? I'm just dancing," you replied innocently, a playful glint in your eyes.

"Y/N, you're causing a scene. This is an important event. Behave," he urged, his voice firm.

"Make me," you challenged, intensifying your movements with a mischievous grin.

Jeongin's expression darkened, and he leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear. "If you don't behave, I'll have to punish you," he whispered, his tone laced with warning.

"Promise?" you teased, enjoying the thrill of pushing his buttons.

He shot you a stern look, his gaze piercing. "Behave, Y/N," he commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument.

You just smiled and continued dancing, making sure to rub your ass against him a little extra.

You had no intention of behaving. Not when the prospect of a punishment was so tempting.

You suddenly felt Jeongin's presence disappear, glancing around to see him heading in the direction of the bathroom. Confused and a bit concerned, you were left standing alone on the dance floor, surrounded by swirling couples and soft music. 

Deciding to leave the dance floor, you stepped to the side, your mind racing. You couldn't help but wonder if you'd inadvertently made him mad. As you reached a quieter corner, you pulled out your phone, hoping for some clue to his sudden departure. Your screen lit up with a notification— a message from Jeongin.

'you still want to misbehave?'

You opened it quickly and saw a photo of him in the bathroom mirror, holding a condom in his mouth.

Your heart skipped a beat, and a wave of heat hit your core. You looked around the ballroom, making sure no one was looking, as your mind was raced with possibilities. The next thing you knew, you were pushing open the door to the bathroom.

The bathroom was big, with stalls and a large, ornate mirror above the sink. You locked the door behind you, your heart pounding with anticipation.

It was empty except for Jeongin, who was leaning against the sink.

He was standing there, his pants already unbuttoned and unzipped. He had a condom in his hand and a stern look on his face.

"So you decide to be a fucking brat. The one day I need you to behave," he said, walking towards you, his eyes dark and filled with desire.

You knew what was coming, and while your heart raced with fear, you couldn't help but feel a hint of excitement at the thought of being punished by him.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I won't do it again," you said, backing up into the sink.

"I don't think you are," he said, walking towards you. He pulled you and pushed your hips into the sink, his hands firmly grasping your waist. His fingers dug into the soft flesh beneath your dress, pulling it to the side, revealing your round, peachy ass. You let out a small gasp, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment as he exposed you for his punishment. 

"You just wanted attention, didn't you" Jeongin growled, his voice low and menacing. "I've had enough of your games. It's time for you to learn your lesson."

His hand came down swiftly, landing with a loud smack against your bare skin. You yelped in surprise.

"I j-just wanted to-" You began.

“Did I say you could speak?” He said in a stern tone, earning you another hard smack. You nodded feverishly. He continued, each strike harder than the last, each one leaving a fiery imprint on your delicate flesh.  Your eyes welling up with tears as the sting of his punishment echoed through the room.

As Jeongin's punishment came to an end, he pushed you to your knees, forcing you to look up at him with wide, frightened eyes. His pants fell to the floor, revealing his hard, throbbing cock that stood at attention, eager for your mouth. 

"Is this what you wanted, slut? To be on your knees for me?"  You nodded frantically at him, your eyes full of lust and longing. You could feel the heat rising between your thighs as you wrapped your lips around his shaft. His hands tangled in your hair, guiding you as you took him deeper into your throat, swallowing his length with each stroke.

His moans were quietly as he was determined to not let you know how good you made him feel, But you could feel his grip on your hair tighten as he thrust deeper into your mouth. You could feel the saliva dripping down your chin. He began to fuck your mouth roughly, his cock sliding in and out of your throat with each thrust. You choked around his cock, tears pricking your eyes as his tip hit the back of your throat continuously.

"Speak now brat..... Come on. I can't hear you." He thrusted harder and harder into you. You felt his cock twitch in your mouth, his cum spurting into your throat. You swallowed, wanting to avoid any more punishments.

He pulled you to your feet, his eyes blazing with lust. He turned you around, pressing you against the cold, porcelain sink once again. Your chest heaved with anticipation, your nipples hardening at the thought of his cock inside you.

"Beg for my cock." He stated. You were caught off guard by his request, and for a moment you were silent. "You want it? Beg for it," he commanded once again

"Please, Jeongin," you whimpered, your voice quiet.

"I'm sorry what was that? I cant hear you", He said taking a step closer.

"Please, fuck me, I need your cock inside me." You cry out.

"You're such a dirty little slut," he growled, his voice thick with lust. "I can't believe you're begging for my cock."

"Please," you moaned again "I need you to fuck me, please, fuck me hard."

Jeongin reached for the condom he had left on the sink and slid it onto his throbbing member. He positioned himself behind you, his hands gripping your waist as he prepared to take you.You let out a soft sigh, your eyes closed as you felt his cock pressing against your slick entrance.

"You're so wet, you dirty little slut," he murmured, his cock sliding around your entrance. "You're desperate for my cock, aren't you?"

You moaned and bit your lip.

"Tell me how much you want my cock," he commanded, his voice a low growl.

"Fuck me.... please. I need you," you say, whining.

Without warning, Jeongin thrust into you, filling you completely with his thick, hard length. You cried out, your voice echoing through the room as he began to pump into you with long, powerful strokes. 

Your cries of pleasure grew louder with each thrust, your body trembling with desire as he claimed you as his own. Jeongin's hands roamed your body, his fingers digging into your hips as he fucked you with wild abandon.

"That's it, you little whore," he growled, his hips thrusting forward. "Take my cock." The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, accompanied by your moans of pleasure and his growls of satisfaction. 

"Yes, J-Jeongin," you moaned, you body trembling with pleasure. "Fuck me harder, please, fuck me harder."

"Oh? Are you telling me what to do?" You nodded your head 'no' frantically not wanting him to stop.

Jeongin reached around, his fingers finding you sensitive clit. He began to circle it, applying just the right amount of pressure to send you over the edge. You cried out, your body trembling uncontrollably.

Your eyes were starting to become glossy. You began to clench around his cock. You could barely form a coherent response, only able to focus on the cock that was fucking you so well and dumb and the obscene sounds of you wetness coating his length. Jeongin continued to fuck you, his pace quickening as he felt his own release approaching. He thrust into you one final time, his cock twitching as he filled the condom with his hot, sticky cum. 

Just as you were a bout to reach your climax, your pussy clenching around his cock, Jeongin pulled out of you. you moaned loudly, your hips bucking against the air.

"No... No... No. please," you whined, your body trembling with need.

"No.. No. I only let good girls cum on my cock." You whimpered, your eyes pleading with him to continue.

You felt a surge of desperation, your heart pounding in your chest. "I promise, I'm a good girl," you insisted, your voice softening as you looked up at him with wide, pleading eyes. The atmosphere between you grew thick with tension, the air crackling with a mix of challenge and desire.

Jeongin's eyes darkened, a smirk playing on his lips as he studied your expression. He reached out, his fingers gently tracing your jawline, sending shivers down your spine. "Oh, really?" he murmured, his voice low and filled with a dangerous edge. "And what makes you think you've been a good girl?"

Your breath hitched as his fingers continued their slow, deliberate path along your skin. "I promise," you repeated, your voice barely a whisper. "I'll be good. Just, please..."

Jeongin's smirk widened, and he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "You want to cum?"

You nodded frantically hoping he would fuck you again.

"Play with yourself then." He said taking a step back from you. He discarded the used condom in the nearby trash can and pulled up his pants.

You were caught off guard by Jeongin's request and hesitated for a moment. He had never denied your orgasm before. But the desire in your eyes and the heat between your legs was too much to resist.

"Dont make me repeat myself." He said. You began to touch herself, her fingers exploring your pussy as Jeongin watched intently.

"That's it, baby," Jeongin murmured, his voice low and seductive. "Play with your pussy for me. Make yourself cum."

You increased the pressure, your fingers sliding along your clit and into your wetness. You stuck two fingers into yourself, moaning from the sensation. Your fingers moved faster, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps. You could feel the tension building inside you, the pleasure growing more intense with each passing moment. Jeongin, seeing you on the brink of climax, whispered dirty words into her ear, pushing her closer to the edge.

"Cum for me, baby. Cum hard on your fingers. I want to see you cum."

Your eyes squeezed shut, your body tensing as you reached the peak of pleasure. With one final thrust of your fingers, you cried out, your body trembling with the force of your orgasm.

"I hope you've learned your lesson, brat," he whispered, his tone both mocking and affectionate.

Before you could respond, he turned and walked away, leaving you alone in the room. The door clicked shut behind him, and you were left standing there, heart racing and mind whirling with a flood of emotions.

With trembling hands, you cleaned yourself up and smoothed out the fabric of your dress, adjusting it to sit just right. A quick glance in the mirror reassured you that your makeup hadn't smudged, but your cheeks were flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and pleasure.

Gathering your composure, you made your way to the door, determined to follow Jeongin.

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[starrystevie]

it was all supposed to be a joke. they were supposed to be in steve’s backyard with all their friends and family in shitty lawn chairs, holding cans of budweiser and jamming to whatever song eddie was in the mood for that day blasting through the speakers. steve was supposed to be in front of them all in a tuxedo t-shirt and powder blue dress pants, flowers in his hair that had been teased to high heaven and dark black sunglasses to keep out the bright sun. that’s how they had planned it all those years ago when they’d been high and drunk and young and in love.

but somehow instead, the yard is full of flowers and benches that hopper and wayne put together with spare wood for everyone to sit on and there’s an archway at the end of the aisle and soft acoustic songs spilling gently out of the speakers. steve’s still at the front, that was always supposed to happen, but this time he’s wearing an actual tux, light cream with a boutonnière and everything, and his hair is pushed back just so. there’s no flowers in his hair and no sunglasses but it’s cloudy enough of a day where he doesn’t really need them anyway.

they weren't even supposed to do this. there wasn't supposed to be a grand entrance and a walk down the aisle, no flower girls or ring bearers or anything remotely traditional. but what started off as, "well, i wouldn't mind walking down the aisle," and "i think exchanging rings would be cool," and "who cares if it isn't legal, i'm going to marry you anyway damnit," turned into this beautiful day of friends and family and love.

robin’s standing beside him in a tux of her own, pinstripe grey donning a pocket boutonnière that matches nancy’s bouquet, with a few notecards in her hands. and speaking of nancy, she’s heading down the aisle in a flowing dress, and when her eyes catch robin’s, she crinkles her nose before blowing her a kiss. she stands opposite of steve as eddie's not-quite-bridesmaid and grips her bouquet tightly, her eyes never leaving robin's.

and then there's dustin. he's in a tux that matches steve's and he has his curls pushed back with probably too much gel and a tie that suzie got him for their 3rd anniversary. the best thing he's sporting, though, is the smile on his face and the ring box in his hand and the joy in his eyes as he looks out at the crowd. having him there as best man and smelling the cheap cologne he wears so he seems more grown up calms steve's ever beating heart enough to where he doesn't think he'll throw up from nerves anymore.

all of their loved ones are surrounding them in clothes steve’s never seen before but he couldn’t care at all what they’re wearing because they’re all smiling wide and bright at him. he catches himself rocking back and forth on his feet so he shakes out his hands and holds them behind his back to distract himself. his stomach is rolling with waves or butterflies and when he catches joyce's eye in the front row, she mimes taking in a deep breath which he instantly copies. the soft grin she sends in return tells him that he thinks it could actually work to settle him. mothers have that healing way about them.

he’s never been good with weddings, always fidgeting in a too tight suit his mom picked out, but he never thought he’d be this antsy at his own.

steve's just about to give up and sprint down the aisle to get eddie so they can run away together and leave nerves and or butterflies behind him, but then the music stops. he sees lucas changing out the tapes quickly, giving a thumbs up to mike who throws one to will who runs back behind the shed to where he knows eddie is waiting and when will pops his head back out to run back to his seat, it hits him.

he's getting married.

steve doesn't have time to think about it anymore than he already has been for the last 8 years because eddie's coming around the corner of the shed.

'here comes the sun' is playing out over the speakers, soft and perfect, and eddie's smiling, wide and beautiful, and steve can't help but mirror it back to him. the clouds overhead seem to hear them, hear the song and hear their hearts beating in time with each other, because as soon as eddie gets to the aisle, bright warm rays of sunlight peak out and make the rhinestones he demanded line the lapels of his own black tux shine like real diamonds.

steve stops breathing. he swears he does, and he knows his family are all feeling the same way. he can hear a few gasps, hears joyce muttering what she thinks is a silent, "oh my god," in hop's ear, and watches how wayne stands up just a bit straighter from his front row seat.

eddie glides down the aisle like the drama king he is, soaking in the looks from everyone they care about and soaking in the sun that seems to come out only for him. it's like the sun knows he's a star, too, and wants to come out to be with one of it's own. eddie's always been sunshine and starlight and a blinding thing to look at and take in. he's the light, steve's the moth, and a few clouds on their wedding day could never change it.

"well, that was insanely good timing," eddie whispers to steve once he reaches him. his grin softens and he brings up a hand to wipe gently at the tear tracks on steve's cheeks. "hi, baby."

and steve can do nothing but choke out a laugh, catching eddie's hand in his own so he press a kiss to his palm. he thinks he can feel eddie's heartbeat against his lips and, even if it's his brain playing tricks on him, he likes the sentiment that it brings. "i love you so fucking much."

it's eddie's turn to get teary-eyed and the sun glints off the tears that fall down his cheek before heading back behind the clouds, dotting quick-to-fade sparkles on his face like a wedding present.

steve kisses him. he can't help it. it's nothing but a fast press of lips, watery smile to watery smile, and everyone is cheering except for robin.

"hey! it's not time for that yet," she says with a pretend scowl, arms pressing to each of their chests to keep them apart. it's enough to leave nancy giggling where she stands behind eddie, her laugh like bells bouncing off of the trees surrounding them. "just give me like ten minutes and we'll have you married and you can kiss all you want then."

steve swears he can hear mike groan at that which cause him to grin which cause eddie to grin back and then they're holding hands like it's the only way to get through the next ten minutes. and it might just be the only way to get through it. knowing them, if they didn't hold on tight, one of them would make a move first and there'd be hands around waists and fingers tangled in hair and robin would hate them forever because she wouldn't get to do her speech.

it's after vows are shared, after rings are on fingers, after kisses are pressed to lips and cheeks and temples and hands and everything else they can quickly reach, that the two of them get some peace. everyone is inside eating snacks and drinking cheap champagne, and it goes unspoken that they're going to take some time for themselves. take some time to bask in their new maybe not-so-legally real but as real as could ever be in their hearts marriage.

they make their way, hand in hand like they've always been meant to do, to a table set up for them. eddie pops a bottle of champagne that they pass back and forth between themselves as they share cheesy smiles and champagne-laced kisses. and it's as they look into each other's eyes, fingers lacing so their rings clink softly against each other, that the sun peaks out to say hello once more.

[archangeldyke-all]

https://www.tumblr.com/archangeldyke-all/752853003646746624/are-you-still-writing-ceo-sev-requests

Yesss so with Sevika’s work suits she wears those button up shirts you know, and one morning reader decides to just throw on one that Sev left on the floor before going to start breakfast.

When Sev sees reader in her shirt that is completely huge on her she basically folds and jumps on her right then and there in the kitchen. You can add smut if you want 😭

GOD fuck

men and minors dni

yesterday was friday. most fridays, you and sevika manage to sneak out of work an hour early-- you purposely scheduling her to be free by the end of the day-- so you can get a head start on your weekend.

but yesterday, both of you were at the office 'til 10 pm, renewing contracts for the upcoming year and making international calls with investors just waking up on the other side of the world.

so when you got home instead of your usual split bottle of wine and friday movie night, you both just stripped down, too tired to even crawl in your pajamas, and flopped into bed.

you blink awake now as the sun rises on a beautiful summer saturday, and turn over in your bed to admire your snoring wife.

she's adorable. you reach out and gently swipe up the trail of drool sliding down her cheek, and her face twitches a bit at your touch.

while you were there by her side all night last night-- she was the one actually reading and filling out the paperwork; and talking in the meetings. you spent your time on her couch, occasionally taking a note for her, but mostly just scrolling through vacation destinations for your upcoming anniversary. so sevika was a lot more tired than you were last night.

so now, you sneak carefully out of bed, not wanting to wake her before she's well rested. you pull the covers up over her chest and kiss her forehead, and her lips twitch in a subconscious smile before she returns to her loud snores.

you grab the closest thing you can find to cover yourself-- the pink and white pinstriped linen button up she'd worn under her suit yesterday-- and button a few buttons to keep it closed around you as you walk to the kitchen, mentally planning a nice weekend breakfast for your wife.

you flick on the radio, quiet soft jazz filling the air as you examine your cabinets and fridge shelves, checking the ingredients you have to work with.

you pull out butter, flour, eggs and sausage, setting them on the counter before gathering all the bowls and measuring spoons you'll need.

sevika sleeps close 'til noon on the weekends, so you can take your time, soaking in the rising sun as it filters through the penthouse, dancing and swaying to the music of sevika's favorite radio channel.

you start by frying up the sausages. once you're done, you transfer the cooked meat onto a plate, throw it in the microwave to keep it warm, and start a roux in the sausage-grease pan.

from there, it's just a matter of stirring in the milk and spices, making sure to add more pepper than you normally would-- though you're certain sevika will still ask for the shaker.

as the gravy thickens, you start making some simple biscuts-- just flour butter and milk kneaded into little clumps and thrown into the oven.

you're scrambling eggs when sevika wakes up. you can hear her huff and shuffle out of bed into the en-suite from the kitchen, and you grin as you listen to her start her morning routine.

it's these little domestic moments that make all the late nights worth it. listening to the sound of sevika brushing her teeth as you fix her a plate of biscuts, eggs, and sausage-- pouring the gravy over it all, just like she likes it.

and then, when two plates are ready and waiting on the table, you get to work cutting up orange slices to give your plates at least a little color. you look up in time to watch sevika stumble out of the bedroom clad only in her boxers and rubbing her eyes.

you choke back a giggle at her crazy bed-head, and then laugh anyways when sevika finally opens her eyes and they nearly bug out of her head at the sight in front of her.

"goodmorning, baby." you greet. sevika grins. pride swells in your chest at the sight. "go ahead, sit and start, i'll be right there with fruit and coffee." you say.

sevika doesn't head toward the table, though. instead, she rounds the counter and wraps her arms around your waist, pulling you into her chest. you grin up at her.

"i haven't brushed my teeth yet." you warn her. she huffs, then swoops in to kiss you anyways. you hum against her lips, giggling when her hands start to bunch up her shirt over your hips to grope your ass.

"you're in my shirt." she mumbles against your lips.

you chuckle. "your food's on the table." you remind her.

"you're in my shirt." she whines, kissing your neck. you laugh.

sevika's possessiveness isn't exactly subtle. usually it manifests as one of her hands on you at in public, or her matching the colors of her outfit to match yours. sometimes, it comes out like this too.

you're surprised to find that she finds you in her shirt more exciting than breakfast. white gravy and biscuits is her favorite.

"food's gonna get cold." you whimper as she turns you around and backs you up against the counter.

sevika chuckles and shrugs, shoving a leg between your. "thank god we gotta microwave." she mumbles. you giggle, threading your fingers through her hair. "fuck, you look so fuckin' good in my clothes." she grunts as she starts pulling your hips back and forth on her thigh. she's rock hard against your hip, her tits pressed your chest as she kisses you.

"s-sevika..." you whine.

"cum on my thigh, baby, lemme make you feel good. 's my thank you for breakfast." she mumbles. you giggle-moan, then lean forward to press your lips to your wife's as she continues to slide your wet cunt on her bare thigh. "you're so fuckin' wet." she groans.

"s-sev--" you gasp.

"give it to me baby. then we can eat, then i can fuck you while you do the dishes in my shirt."

you whimper. "y-you do the d-dishes." you grunt. sevika snorts.

"fine. you can wear my shirt 'n fuck me while i do the dishes." she offers. you nod and then cum to seal the deal. sevika laughs, peppering kisses all over your face and neck as you shiver apart in her arms. "there you go, baby."

sevika holds you until you catch your breath, but once she's sure you can stand on your own she gives you a breath taking kiss and then sprints to the table-- a grin on her face as she digs into her food. you burst into laughter.

"'s so fuckin' good, tha'k y' s'much." sevika mumbles around her bite.

"don't choke." you plea. she shoots you a wink, and you roll your eyes fondly before you go back to cutting orange slices.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @vikasub @glass-apothecary @m0numents @macaroni676 @vixel352 @artinvain

[batbabydamian]

The Boy Wonder #2 by Juni Ba rambling about Gotham's fearsome hunter

added Jason to this issue's collage since it was mainly from his perspective!

ramble for issue #1 here!

starting with the cover again, but now in contrast to the first:

Dick and Barbara are presented as statues in the bg for the first cover where they’re established heroes in a secure time in their lives, and Damian is obviously the highlight! For #2's cover, the autumn leaves motif returns, but this time featuring Jason!! Apparently, Damian isn’t the only one to go through a “season of change” in this series, as Jason takes his own steps forward by the end of this story 🥺 also the literal layers on Jason - his angry Red Hood helmet and the beaten down Robin head...

The issue opens with Joe the robber and his hostage "Merle"! The glasses feels like a giveaway that this is Carrie(??) narrating Damian's story, so the final issue could end with her perspective for where Damian currently is in his journey as Robin and where she plays a part.

Jason as the "hunter" of this fairytale is such a cool concept, especially upon his introduction pages!! He's surrounded by his recent "prey" with a nice contrast of their fancy jackets, pinstripe pants, and dress shoes to Jason's own tattered hoodie, pants, and sneakers.

Just like the past issue (or just Ba's work in general lol), THE BACKGROUNDS ARE SO LOVINGLY DRAWN. Makes Jason's stroll through inner Gotham so enjoyable from the bustling activity of the people, shop signs, and advertising to the quieter area of the cemetery. It's so lived in, especially feels like each citizen in the bg has a story to tell!

some bits of interest to me: is that scaly lil arm reaching for the rat supposed to be Croc LOL; just neat visual of old Joker posters leering over Jason; the name of the cemetery a nod to Kevin Conroy? and from T. Wayne - Thomas Wayne?

Despite showing how much of an intimidating and hardened exterior the Red Hood has, there's plenty of suggestion that he has soft edges! from his act of revenge for a beloved member of the community, his familiarity with the people even greeting him, and down to his chocobar...

might be my overthinking but the layers of that close up shot of the chocobar really got me 😭 it's like such a piece of innocence when seen in his scarred hand, especially when "Wayne Sweets" is visible - is it more emphasis of Jason clinging to a safer time and Bruce Wayne himself?? or is this brand just his favorite lil treat

EITHER WAY, incredibly funny to me Jason seems to hide it once Damian shows up

Seeing Ba's storyboards has me even more curious about his process with O'Halloran - like, it's a small detail but the traffic light in the foreground being red! added emphasis on the red theme this issue, or a warning for these two to Stop heading into a trap? ANYWAY DAMIAN HESITANTLY ASKING ABOUT HIS MOTHER I'M THROWING UP AWWGH

also love critically acclaimed animated film "The Cheetah King" haha! ALTHOUGH, Jason's story does line up with Simba's - a lost prince that feels like he's failed his father. Even believed to be dead for a period of time lol

Rok the demon's design is so slick!! Seems to take after a peacock with how fanciful he is, plus his tail details in his other form! A dapper demon definitely ready for the gala!

A GLIMPSE OF BA'S HEAVIER ACTION ART!! THE POUNCE!! the Robins being entirely made up of motion lines, even the details for Jason's helmet; and i'm always a sucker for those light streaks from the eyes!! THE PUNCH!! the quick panel of Jason's fist before arcing into that POW!!

and i say a glimpse, because in just the two other books i've read from Ba so far, he draws so much more action. lil Monkey Meat promo BUT LOOK!! have i mentioned how much i love his sfx lettering...that "AAAH" getting motion lines when closer to the camera...crazy...

dropping another small element from one of his books, Djeliya! just a really cool visual of casting magic!!

I love this sequence leading up to the Joker vision! The shapely flames that dwindle into the shape of TEARS!! We don't get the extent of how deeply the Joker affected Jason until this moment and the man is terrified.

First thing Damian does after getting shot is insult Jason, DAMIAN IS SO FUNNY. Also absolutely love the wiggly woggly lines of EVERYTHING in this panel.

Considering what Damian said earlier: "We both know you'd rather not have to explain your failure to father if anything happens to me that you could have prevented." As if Jason didn't already feel like a failure before this!! of course he'd turn into jiggling jelly realizing what he's done.

After 27 pages of a narrow-eyed Red Hood, including an early tease of him about to take off the helmet for his snack, this full page of Jason unmasking himself is such a heavy reveal. Adding the aching piece of dialogue?? BRUTAL

Damian responds in kind to the vulnerability with his own confession and something Jason really needed to hear after burdening himself for so long with the idea of being a failure.

After Damian leaves, the camera pulls back to show The Door in the dark of the room. Damian quite literally presents Jason a window of opportunity to face his past, and it goes so hard. Just like the buildup of frowning mask-to-face reveal, Jason's few expressions have mostly looked sad. So the shadowed eyes before the glare of determination makes this quiet moment feel extra epic!! also reminiscent of the Red Hood mask he wears!!

Beyond the door of Jason's "past life" is complete darkness. Jason has been hoping for Batman to pull him out of it (as further suggested by the newspaper clippings), but in the final page, the door is leaking light!! Jason finds his own way forward :')

The first issue introduces the Robins with specific labels, and so far the narrative either delves deeper into those claims or challenges it. Damian is unimpressed by "kind and brave" Dick and even forms some kind of rivalry. By the end, Damian’s learned how those simple traits are essential to becoming the person and hero Dick has become and gains a newfound respect for him.

#2 deviates from #1 by following “brash and rageful” Jason's perspective! Damian is under pressure from the legacies of all the Robins before him, and even if he relates to Jason the most there's still tension. This time around, while Damian does learn what lies behind the mask, he's the one to impart some knowledge to his fellow Robin.

ending ramble with a panel of the small beans

"Look Damian, everything the light touches is our kingdom."

TBH this ramble took forever to start because after reading Djeliya and Monkey Meat, i was so floored by how much MORE Ba has to offer. Everything i raved about from the first issue of The Boy Wonder...Ba's done it all in his previous work and MORE SO?? on top of writing, whimsical paneling and lettering, fun action scenes, deliberate coloring, kickass character designs and worldbuilding... the man does it all?? 😭

Monkey Meat 🐒

Djeliya: A West African Fantasy Epic ✌️

Mobilis: My Life with Captain Nemo

The Unlikely Story of Felix and Macabber

i may save the last two books for after The Boy Wonder ends because imagining the end of the series makes me so sad LOLL orz i may cave just because Mobilis is a pleasantly giant book...praying for DC to give the collected edition of The Boy Wonder this treatment...his pages are brimming with energy they deserve to be blown up with an oversized printing 😭

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 36 all chapters

WARNING: NSFW, SEXUAL CONTENT, YANDERE SH!T. Plz take care. I luv u all. 😘

You are getting the feeling that Mariko Kimura doesn’t really like you. 

And maybe it’s stupid, but you’re really not used to that.

Worse yet, this woman basically has a license to beat the hell out of you as The Personal Trainer–how else are you going to learn how to defend yourself in this vicious world? Strikes, blocks, throws, joint locks–she’s taking her job seriously, and after a week has gone by you’re not sure how much more you can actually handle. Maybe you’re a hiker girl, but it’s been a long time since you’ve done any athletic activity that demanded you give everything you have, take a breath, and then give fifty percent more. Your body hurts everywhere. Your torso is bruised in twenty places under your top, and you think she might have knocked one of your back teeth loose with a dirty punch.

You do not want to complain to John. You know he went through so much worse, and it would feel like tattling. So you take a moment to compose yourself on a bench before returning to your room, breathing deeply. That hurts too–jesus fuck, did she crack your ribs? 

What you really want to do is have a good little cry, but that’s completely off the table. 

Show no weakness. 

“Are you alright, my dear?”

Your eyes fly open to find Winston Scott, looking dapper as ever in a pinstripe suit, standing nearby. You hadn’t heard him approach. That’s probably not a good thing, even in this supposedly neutral environment. 

“I’m fine,” you say brightly with a smile you know looks more like a grimace. “Just…catching my breath.”

“May I?”

You scoot over on the antique wooden bench, very aware that you are sweaty as the proverbial whore in church, surprised this fastidious man would dare come within six feet of you at the moment. 

“I must admit I was surprised when I saw that Jonathan enrolled you with Miss Kimura. She is close friends with Akira Shimazu.” 

“I…don’t know what that means,” you admit. 

“Ah. Well, Jonathan should.”

You blow out a long breath through your teeth, bracing your kidneys. Maybe a shower and a dip in the cool waters of the pool downstairs would be nice. 

“I don’t want to get anyone into trouble,” you sigh. If John suspects Mariko is playing rougher than what is demanded for some personal reason that has nothing to do with you, that could breed a whole new problem. You have enough problems. 

“As you wish. I am not sure you know this about our Jonathan yet, but politics are not his strong suit. He is the best at what he does, but the more subtle machinations of our world still escape him.”

This doesn’t come as a total surprise to you, although if you let Winston in on some of the psychological games John played with you not so long ago, the old man’s hair might have stood on end.

Or, maybe not. 

“Are you telling me it’s my job to keep him from killing everyone when the Camorra finally show for this sitdown?” 

“Well. I’m sure you’ve heard tell of what happened with Santino d’Antonio.”

“Yes.” 

“Perhaps Jonathan is in a better state of mind these days thanks to you. But I also fear what our dear boy may do, to defend you.”

Hearing anyone call your fearsome assassin John dear boy brings a little smile to your lips. You are glad that someone seems to be in his corner. You’ve gotten the impression from hearing John talk that Winston is like a father figure to him. You’re relieved it goes both ways. 

“I will keep what you’re telling me in mind.” 

“That is all I ask,” he says with a nod, standing. “And perhaps, a little break from the Trainer would do you good.”

A small laugh escapes you–you know it sounds bitter. “You give very good advice, Mr. Scott.” 

“I know I do. If only the young people around me would deign to benefit from my wealth of experience.” This is his parting shot, and you watch as he makes his exit stage left, leisurely strolling back down the hall like a king in his castle. 

***

Lounging in a warm bubbly bath–with John Wick’s solid naked body behind you, maybe makes the beatings you’ve been taking worth it. 

Ok, it’s totally fucking worth it. Nothing hurts anymore…except for when his soapy hands gently massaging your sore muscles find a bruise. There are a lot of them. 

It also helps that a few minutes ago he ran those soapy hands all over your breasts and aching center, coaxing a soul-wrenching orgasm out of you, all while talking you through it with his low voice in your ear.

He never actually asked if you’re alright, and you take that as a compliment. Maybe it’s fucked up, but you’re kinda proud of your pain tolerance–and John’s quiet approval. 

That doesn’t mean you’re capable of keeping your mouth shut about something else that’s bothering you. 

“Who is Akira Shimazu?” you ask sleepily, your head lolled back on his broad shoulder. His hands pause tellingly upon you, before resuming their soothing circuit. 

“She’s the daughter of one of my oldest friends, Koji,” he finally answers, his tone deliberately neutral. “He…was killed by the High Table, when I went to his Continental in Osaka for shelter.” 

There is a lot to unpack in that sentence. You start with the part that alarms you the most. “Wait…the High Table are allowed to break the rules of the Continental?” If those fuckers were coming, supposedly to play mediator–what good would it do, if they were not bound to follow their own rules? 

“Not usually,” he assures you. “The Marquis who was hunting me was granted…privileges.” 

“Sounds like bullshit.” 

“It was bullshit.” 

You decide this is all the information you need to connect the dots. If you were Akira Shimazu, you would probably blame John Wick for your father’s death too. And if you were Akira’s friend, and had no recourse to hurt John Wick directly–beating up his girlfriend was pretty much the next best thing. Great. 

“Why are you asking me this?” 

“Oh…just a conversation I had with Winston today.” You turn in the bath, reaching for the soap to return the favor to John, only in part to distract him. He weighs you with those dark eyes, only half believing you, or at least, sensing there’s more than what you’re telling him. You sit up straddling his lap, running your hands over his chest. His eyes slide closed, quiet for some time as you touch him. His wounds from the home invasion have healed now, his stitches out just the other day. Now they are simply slick pink flesh under your fingertips–as though it had all just been a bad dream.

These moments seem even more precious between you, now. You want to hoard them like a dragon with its pile of gold, keep them forever shining in your memory. You know what you’ll draw in your sketch journal tonight. You’ve been trying to keep up with a drawing a day, a way to pass the time, though the past week you’ve been too tired in the evening.

“Is Mariko…associated with Akira?” 

Maybe Winston doesn’t give John enough credit. 

“I think they might be friends.”

He touches a bruise on your arm with a new understanding, his dark brows drawn in a frown.

Well shit. So much for being subtle. 

“Is she hurting you on purpose?” 

“She’s…not pulling any punches. That’s ok, John. I’ve learned more this past week than in the five years I did in Tae Kwon Do.” You realize that is absolutely true. 

John’s eyes narrow as he searches out your bruises with new eyes. “I’m sorry.” 

It’s interesting to you, how it was par for the course before, but with the new information that it might be personal, it’s suddenly not ok. 

“Don’t be.” 

“I didn’t think I would be a good hand to hand combat teacher for you.”

“Why not?” you ask, not accusing, just curious. 

“Because when I put my hands on you I just want to fuck you,” he admits bluntly, raising gooseflesh all across your body, your greedy cunt suddenly clenching in insistent reminder of her state of abject emptiness...drama queen.  

 “Even…if we were fighting?”

Considering his penchant for chasing, maybe you already know the answer to that. He blows through his nose, pulling you close with those mitts for hands on your hips so that you can feel he’s hard just with the thought of it. 

He ducks to graze his teeth upon the curve of your shoulder, and your state of relaxation is starting to fly out the window again. This man. 

“Especially if we were fighting,” he admits against your ear, his voice gravely with desire. “I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from taking you down. I’d fuck you right there on the mat, and you wouldn’t learn a thing except that you drive me wild.”

Your nipples tighten with the thought, your breath caught in your throat, and he lifts you easily in the water with that controlling grip on your hips, rubbing your now slick center against his throbbing cock. Tub sex can be tricky, but the bath water stands no chance against the suddenly raging state of your arousal. Without further ado he lifts you onto his cock, impaling you on his thick tip. The glorious glide and stretch of his girthy shaft inside you still takes your breath away, like you can feel him in your lungs, your fingers digging into his shoulders. 

“Fuck,” you squeak, winning a dark chuckle that scrambles your insides. 

“Yeah.”  

It’s the last intelligible word you manage, in the next few minutes, as he uses you just as he pleases, the water sloshing all around as he pistons inside you. It’s all you can do just to hold on, clenching tightly upon his insatiable erection the way you know makes him lose it. 

“Touch yourself for me,” he invites, though you know he’s close. You’ve reached that point in your physical relationship when you know each other’s bodies so well, your rhythms and sounds, down to the very tone of a gasp or the desperation of a thrust. 

“I don’t think I can cum again,” you admit, though you’re thoroughly enjoying him inside you. 

You really didn’t mean it as a challenge, but when he smirks at you with that certain sparkle in his anthracite eyes you just know you’re in for it. 

“Yes you can,” he insists, slowing his pace inside you, arching you back in his arms so that he can flick one of your nipples with his devilishly clever tongue. Oh. Well that’s not fair at all. You reach down to rub your clit while he fills you like this, delaying his pleasure to hit that perfect spot just past your entrance that makes you forget anything else exists in the world but you and him and the promise of a soul-snatching orgasm on the horizon.

“Give it up for me, my pretty girl,” he coaxes with his lips against your skin, and you know the snake must have sounded like that when he spoke to Eve. Tempting and forbidden and yet oh so reasonable. You’ve asked a lot from your body in the past few days. Maybe this is how you die–and what a way to go. That wonderful tingling pressure fills your hips and you moan, forgetting, again, that the other assassins down the hall probably do not want to hear more evidence that John Wick never misses. 

There are stars in your eyes and a ringing in your ears as this shining, bone-shattering release takes you. You are a ragdoll in his arms as he fills you to the hilt and bathes your cervix with the hot rush of his cum. It’s all the two of you can do, not to sink into the water and drown. With a shaky sigh you kiss his lips before melting against him, re-learning how to breathe with his arms wrapped around you, your head on his shoulder. 

He strokes your hair, whispering endearments so low you can’t really make them out, but the tone is so soothing you drift asleep for a few minutes. You only wake when he freshens the bath with more hot water, before drifting off again. 

***

Much later, when both of your faculties have returned, and your fingers have turned to prunes, he tells you, “I think we’ll give you a break. We’ll start weapons training tomorrow. That, I will handle myself.” 

This is news to you. “Here? In the hotel?”

“There’s an armory, a range, even a course.” 

“In this hotel?” 

He chuckles a little at your disbelief. “Yeah.” 

The New York Continental: anything and everything a killer could need…

And here you are, trapped amongst them with the man you love. You know this is technically John’s world, but a part of you just can’t shake the feeling that he doesn’t belong here. That he shouldn’t have to be back here–it’s not fair. 

You sit up in the water, reaching for a little yellow rubber duck on the side of the tub, not meeting John’s eyes. You’re not sure where it came from; there must be some inside joke you’re not privy to…but it’s cute. 

You do feel some relief, knowing you’re not going to get beat up again tomorrow, though going through tactical firearms drills makes you more than a little nervous. You’re sure it will be different from plinking in the backyard on a Sunday with your dad and his drinking buddies. Ah, alcohol and guns–a time honored American classic.

“I feel like I’m walking out of here with my Certificate in Baddass Assassin Studies,” you say with a nervous little laugh. “What else is there? Are you going to teach me how to pinball flip someone with a muscle car? Maybe how to ride a motorcycle while swinging a katana?”

His lips twist in a smirk. “If you want, when we go home.” 

You find the thought buoys you with hope. “Will we ever get to go home?”

“Unless you really want to move to Argentina,” he needles you.

“Argentina does sound pretty bitchin’...” you tease him. 

He narrows his eyes at you; after all this time, it still gives you a thrill. “Are you sure your fascination with Argentina doesn’t stem from the good looking men who seem to live there?”

You make a raspberry at the thought. He still remembers Javi, it seems. You do too, of course, but all that feels like a distant dream in your memory. “Darling, I have all the Tall, Dark, and Handsome I can handle right here.” You place the rubber ducky on top of his head as though bestowing a crown, and he rolls his eyes before snatching you to him, water splashing all across the floor again. 

“Who’s going–to clean–that up?” you tease between kisses and giggling, suddenly drunk on his arms around you, his strong hand running down your side to squeeze your behind before long fingers quest further towards your aching center. 

“Baby, that is the least of your worries right now.”    

“I can’t!” you whine in protest as he palms your breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers. You absolutely give yourself away with your joyful laughter that turns into a moan.

“We’ll see, cheeky girl.”  

This insatiable man really might prove the death of you. 

----

Pretty sure the rubber ducky is all on @sweetwolfcupcake …😂😘😘😘

[thepoppedbb]

Striding through the crowd at the Bearer’s Ball, Eller beamed with pride. He still couldn’t believe that at his own debut one year ago, Lucas had stridden over to him looking resplendent in his red sentinel’s uniform. That this handsome and brave soldier had danced with him several times. That he had so quickly declared his intentions. That the feeling that coursed through Eller’s body when he first pressed his head to Lucas’ chest had been mutual.

Now, with their first son growing in his womb, his fecund abdomen bowing out beneath his lavender blouse and white pinstripe jacket, Eller felt a sense of belonging and purpose. He paused to gently soothe anxious debutants. He gladly halted his step to let elderly matrons feel the taut skin against his developing child. He affectionately returned the bows of the men who stopped to kiss his hand and to shake Lucas’.

As they stood arm-in-arm at the edge of the ballroom. watching the debutants and the prospective husbands dance below, Lucas’ other arm, seemingly out of instinct, came to rest on the curve of his abdomen. Eller, almost without thinking, leaned in close and inhaled Lucas’ musk. Lucas’ head tilted down to rest on his. Eller closed his eyes and turned toward Lucas, burying his head in his chest. Lucas’ arms wrapped around him in a full embrace. Though he now stood at a slight angle to accommodate their son, this was the pose they had held the night of Lucas’ proposal in the estate’s gardens.

After a long moment, their mutual sense of propriety began ebbing away at this intimacy. Becoming aware of their surroundings once again, they slowly returned to their former pose. Across the ballroom, Eller caught sight of his friend Adam, who looked ravishing in gold and burgundy, and who was on the arm of the sweet-faced magistrate he had married. Adam was smiling appreciatively. Then, he turned to kiss his own seeder. On the dance floor, Eller saw his parents sharing a tender embrace, over thirty years after they came together for the first time in this ballroom.

Eller felt completely content with his place in the world. This is where he belonged.

[murderhusbands4life]

Hannibal Lecter X Autistic Child Reader

first request!

request: Can u do like austitic child reader with Hannibal 

summary: Hannibal latest patient is a child filled with trauma over their elder brothers death and Hannibal cares for them like his own.

Third person pov...

Mrs L/N and her 7 year old arrive outside Dr Hannibal Lecter's office, Y/Ns new physiatrist. A little over a month ago Y/Ns elder brother died, the 7 year old witnessed it since then the child had been filled with terror and hadn't slept well since.

Said child was grumpily standing next to their Mum staring down at their shoes swaying back and forth. "Do I have too" they pout, this makes Y/Ns mum sigh, she kneels and holds her Childs shoulder making the kid flinch not liking touch.

"Sorry honey, but you know what the school says you have to stick with the same therapist for at least a week before going back to school" explains the kids Mum, the child sighs. "Okayy, lets do it" they say making the women smile at them.

The building itself was beautiful with a sense of historical back ground, it was tall and didn't look like a physiatrists office, nervously Y/N follows their mother inside the building, Mrs L/N had heard from her close friend Jack Crawford about an amazing physiatrist and decided to make an appointment for her child.

Soon they came to a door which was Dr Lecter's office, Mrs L/N knocks on the door, looking down at her nervous child of course the child was nervous, Y/N doesn't like change and this is a huge change for them, then the door opens and man stands there.

He was tall around 6tf, he had ash grey hair, brown eyes, he had sharp cheekbones and an obviously fake smile on his face, to Y/N he looked about 40 maybe mid 40s. he was wearing a dark red pinstripe suit and dark brown shoes.

He looks at the mother and child in front of him wondering who they were. "hello, you must be Dr Lecter, Im Y/M/N L/N and this is Y/N we have an appointment" says the H/C woman, Hannibal eyes widened a fraction before returning to normal. "ah yes my apologies, I had forgotten please come in" he says and stands to the right holding the door open.

He had a slight accent, possibly eastern European, Y/N wracks their brain trying to place it but couldn't think, they shall have to ask the man later.

But Y/Ns mum shakes her head at the invitation. "I'm already late for work, I'll leave Y/N with you" she says before turning her back and kneeling next to her child, Hannibal watches as the child's eyes wonder not looking at their mother.

"Y/N love, I'll be back to pick you up later okay, my shift at the clinic will finish at 5 okay see you then, be good and respectful to Dr Lecter now" she says to the child kissing their forehead and walking away throwing a wave goodbye behind her.

The hallway was filled with silence as the Dr and Child stand. "Please come in Y/N" he says to the silent child. Y/N nervously enters the pristine office, the child gasps at how large the room was, bright E/C eyes marvel at its beauty.

Dr Lecter lips turn up at the emotionless child gasping at his office, he then walks over to the child and begins taking their coat, this makes the child look at him before smiling in thanks. "Thank you, sir," Hannibal hears a mumble.

"of course, now if you would please take a seat we will begin" he says motioning to one of the chairs he uses for his patents, though it had been a while since he had such a young one in his office.

"now then we shall begin, I am Hannibal Lecter and I will be your physiatrist" he says smiling at the small child sitting in the overly large chair, said child was still looking around the room drinking in all the details and books.

"Im Y/N L/N, sir im 7 years old" comes a tiny voice, Hannibal smiles slightly, they were getting somewhere at least he got their name. "hello Y/N do you know why you are here?" he asks the child, Y/N stopped looking around and instead looked at their shoes.

"because I don't sleep and Mummy's worried about me" comes the quiet voice, Hannibal was barely able to hear. He crosses his legs and continues to write in his notebook, brown eyes look over the child sitting opposite him, their movements skittish like a scared bunny.

"And why is that Y/N?" he asks gently coaxing the child to speak more, minutes pass before the child speaks. "Because brother died and I still dream off him though not nice dreams, I miss him" whispers the child tears gathering in the corner of their big E/C eyes.

Already seeing this happening Hannibal hands, the 7 tear old some tissues he keeps on his desk, tiny hand grab the white tissue and wipes their tears and blows their nose. "t-thank y-you s-sir" comes a tearful voice.

Hannibal smiles gently at the child reassuring them. "of course, child" he says as their session moves on.

Over Y/Ns next few appointments with Hannibal they began to get more comfortable with him and always enjoyed coming to his office, once he noticed how their eyes wondered toward his many books on the second level, the expression of surprise will forever make him happy as he told the child they could read his collection.

Said child bounds over to the many books and carefully grabs a couple, he had learnt that Y/N was autistic and had a love for books they loved reading anything, the two become ever closer their sessions became something less formal.

Hannibal had never felt this close to a child before, but he enjoyed their sessions together and was delighted to be able to help such a sweet innocent child go through their trauma.

The end!

Hope you liked this first oneshot for this new book. Sorry for the spelling and grammar mistakes in this.

Requests are open!

Word count: 1065

[soupbabe]

Could I request the long haired slashers w a S/O that loves playing with their hair, washing it , tying it up and like coos about how handsome they are?

Long haired slashers: Vincent sinclair, Thomas hewitt, Nubbins sawyer and otis driftwood!

Playing with the Slashers' hair

Featuring: Nubbins Sawyer, Otis Driftwood, Thomas Hewitt, Vincent Sinclair

I was close to putting Chop Top in this line up because I love his personality but I remembered you can't really braid 3 strands of hair 💀

Tagging: @slaasherslut, @rottent33th , @the-pinstriped-hood, @devil-doll13

Otis Driftwood

- While it can stroke his ego, I think it makes him embarrassed for the most part

- Not even the cute blushy kind of embarrassment, he kinda gets agitated and doesn't want you to be all on him until he calms down

- He doesn't like feeling as if he's getting soft, but your fingers feel so good in his hair

- Maybe he makes this a private only kind of thing, he can't risk the family seeing him like this

- Baby teases you both as is, if she walked in and saw you braiding his hair and cooing over how handsome he is, no one is making it out of his room alive

Nubbins Sawyer

- He loves it when you play with his hair !!

- Literally he can't stop laughing and sit still, that's how happy he is when you do it

- He has the shortest hair out of this group, but it's still so much fun to play with it

- Especially when you wash his hair, there's no doubt he's using the shampoo and conditioner as a way to have a mohawk

- I think showers and baths might be the only time you can catch him more relaxed, he melts like putty when you massage his scalp

Thomas Hewitt

- You are legally obligated to put dandelions in his hair

- It flatters him to no end when you lay him on your lap and you just surprise him with compliments!!

- He can't sign anything, he's too busy covering his face with his hands

- While washing his hair is less than glamorous- all the sweat, dirt, and blood build up isn't pretty, it makes him feel so loved

- He doesn't take good care of himself, so having you there with him feels like a blessing

Vincent Sinclair

- He's another one that doesn't have the best self care track record, he completely absorbs himself in his work

- Literally there are bits of wax stuck to his hair he needs a whole day off to take care of it

- But he is also very flattered by your actions, though he focusses a lot more on the act of you taking care of him rather than the confidence boosts

- If you let him, I think Vincent would want to return the favor and take care of your hair too

- Thinking about showering with Vincent, guiding him through your hair routine so he can help you unwind and savor the moment you have with him

[pink-sparkly-witch]

Take Care of You

Summary: Y/N is run ragged. Her employer keeps throwing more work at her, and she’s too nice to say no. She’s also been keeping Jensen’s businesses afloat while trying to keep an eye on their families with him away filming. She’s overwhelmed, stressed and hasn’t been sleeping well. When Jensen comes home after finishing his movie, he notices his girl’s not doing great and plans a weekend filled with “her” time.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Female Reader

Rating: 18+ Only

Bingo Square: Established Relationship for @jacklesversebingo

Warnings: tw: mentions of cancer, tw: mentions of cancer treatments, tw: dementia, domestic fluff, massage, smut, oral sex (f rec), p in v. 

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: This is a very self-indulgent story that I wasn’t sure would ever be shared. This has been my life for the past few years, and when I sat down to write something, this is what word vomited onto the page, and I couldn’t stop it.

My Masterlist     AO3    Ko-Fi

Consider reblogging to spread this far and wide around this Hellsite or leaving a comment. It really does fuel a creative’s muse. If you’re too shy or too cool for people to know you read fanfic and you don’t want it showing on your blog, you can submit an anonymous ask or drop me a DM 💖

“Honey, I’m home!” Jensen declared as he opened the front door, quickly closing and locking it behind him. The lamp in the hallway was on, your purse and laptop bag were sitting on the sideboard, and by the text you’d sent him two hours ago asking if he wanted anything special for dinner tonight, he knew you were home. Why then, he frowned, was the whole house silent?

Dropping his bag next to the sideboard, Jensen moved further into the quickly darkening house. “Y/N? Babe?” he called out again, still being met with silence. Walking into the living room, he huffed an annoyed breath, shaking his head in disbelief at the state he’d found you.

You were still in your work clothes: pinstripe pencil skirt, black button-up blouse and tan stilettos. Your hair was still in a tight, professional bun, and your glasses were pushed up on your head. From the look of things, you got home, put your bags down and immediately fell asleep on the couch.

That damn job was going to be the death of you. They took and took and took, giving nothing in return. You were eager to learn, take on more responsibility and help everyone around you. They took advantage of that and turned your kindness and willingness to be a team player into an expectation. Not only was it expected, it was now frowned upon if you said no. So you didn’t, and God help you if you told someone else in your team that they had to be the one to stay late because heaven forbid, you did actually have a life outside of the office.

Jensen sighed as he looked over your beautiful face, blemished by dark circles around your eyes that makeup could no longer cover. How long had this been going on? He’d been away filming for a month and, with other commitments, hadn’t been home. He was contractually obliged to attend conventions on two of the weekends. Another was his own doing; he was exhausted and couldn’t be bothered packing and travelling to spend only thirty-six hours at home. So, instead, he promised he’d come home next time and went to play golf with a buddy. The only problem with that plan was that he couldn’t come home that weekend either as you’d caught Covid. The guilt he’d played golf instead of coming home to you still ate at him.

You both knew you didn’t need to work. Jensen made enough to support you and allow you to live comfortably, but you wanted to work; you needed to. And when he was away for work, you got lonely and threw yourself into work. Jensen had tried several times to convince you to travel with him and spend your free time doing what you loved most: writing. He thought he’d made a fool-proof argument for his case, but you outsmarted him with a flaw in his master plan; you had responsibilities to your family. And to his. Someone needed to help care for your elderly grandparents. God, both your parents were now at an age that even they were considered elderly, and you felt it was your responsibility to do all the heavy lifting for the generations that came before you.

So many aspects of your dad’s health deteriorated since he battled stage four prostate cancer a few years ago. The chemotherapy weakened his immune system, and he never fully recovered from its poison. The treatment exacerbated his arthritis, and his joints were now in constant pain. But it was his memory that was now concerning you. He was forgetful during his treatment, which was understandable because it was one of the side effects. That, and his mind probably ran through a million different scenarios about his mortality. It was just that it wasn’t getting better. It was getting worse. He’d told you the same story twice in the hour you’d visited last week, and now there were changes in his behaviour that doubled your worry.

Jensen hadn’t meant to worry you when he’d asked you after Christmas dinner with your family if your dad was doing alright. He’d told Jensen the same story several times while you were there, and he thought he was helping you out by mentioning it. He’d been upset when you admitted you’d been concerned for a while and hadn’t told him. When Jensen asked why you hadn’t talked to him about it, guilt flooded him when you said work was keeping him busy enough and that he didn’t need to be stressing about anything else just now. 

You’d told him back then that you’d been trying to convince your mom to talk to him and seek help, but they were as stubborn as each other. When the woman wouldn’t even stop smoking after having a partial lobectomy because of lung cancer and radiation treatment for throat cancer, you knew you were fighting a losing battle.

A light had been switched on, though, when at your mom’s birthday dinner, there were just too many things that couldn’t be ignored, including your dad calling you his recently deceased sister’s name and acting completely inappropriately for a restaurant. Your five-year-old niece had behaved better than him. Finally, you managed to convince your dad to see a doctor. Eight months and various appointments and tests later, a diagnosis of frontotemporal dementia, one of the rarest kinds of the disease, was confirmed. Two days before your birthday, no less.

As he watched your sleeping form, he knew something had to give before you became ill, and his plans for a weekend filled with couples excursions and dates quickly changed. It was now your weekend. You had a family barbecue up in Dallas that you couldn’t miss on Sunday, but until then, he’d take care of you and everything else that needed doing in the house. He’d force you to relax all weekend if it was the last thing he did. And it started with making your favourite comfort food: mac and cheese.

Jensen lit some candles around the living room to give a dim light rather than switch on the brighter lamps and wake you. Heading to the kitchen, he put a pan of water on the stove to boil before pulling his phone from his pocket and calling his mom.

“Hi, sweetie! How are you?” Donna greeted cheerfully.

“Yeah, I’m good, ma. How’re you doing?” he replied as he opened the cupboard and pulled down the box of fake cheesy goodness.

“We’re fine, son. How’s Y/N?” his mom asked, and he smiled softly at the affection in his mom’s voice. His whole family adored her, welcoming her into their family with arms and hearts wide open, taking her in as one of their own without hesitation.

“Uhm, let’s just say I’m glad I’m home for a few weeks. My girl needs a little looking after,” Jensen chuckled dryly.

“Oh, sweetie, I’m sorry. I don’t think she’ll ever change. She always puts others before herself. Is there anything we can do to help? You know if you need to miss Sunday, you can. We won’t be upset,” Donna sympathised.

“We’ll be there on Sunday. I think it’ll do her good, you know? Relaxing by the pool and seeing family. But I wanted to ask you something,” he said.

“Anything, son,” she said instantly, and Jensen chuckled at his mom’s worried tone.

“You know that lavender bath stuff from the place in Dallas you got her obsessed with?” Jensen asked, grinning at his mom’s relieved laugh.

“I just sent her some. It arrived the other day. There are bath salts, bath bombs, bubbles, and some candles. And the pillow spray. Oh, and the essential oil! You could give her a little massage!” There was a grin in her voice, and he shook his head with a chuckle.

“Alright, I get it!” Jensen chuckled. “I was going to ask if you could pick some up for us coming up there, but if she’s got some, that’s even better! I just need to know how to use it.”

“Okay, so you want to start with lighting the candles...”

You could feel something soft and warm caress your cheek, and you start to wake. Your eyes flutter open, taking a minute to focus through the dimly lit room, and finally, find the forest-green eyes of the love of your life, and you smile at him with a contented hum. Jensen smiled softly back as he continued to stroke your cheek gently. “Hey, sleepy head,” he whispered.

“Jay, you’re home!” you grinned, voice husky from sleep. “I missed you, baby.”

“I missed you too, darlin’. It looks like someone came home and crashed out,” Jensen chuckled softly.

“What time is it?” you ask, rubbing at your gritty eyes and yawning. You had to admit that although it wasn’t your intention to indulge in a nap, you did feel much better.

“A little after nine,” Jensen answered and laughed at your gasp.

“Nine!? I’ve been asleep for three hours?” you groaned in annoyance.

Jensen smiled and gently gripped your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Yeah, and by the look of this, you need much more,” he gently runs his fingers under your eyes. “Those dark circles would make a panda claim you as one of their own, and that was before you rubbed at your eyes and messed up your mascara!”

“Oh, God!” you groaned.

“Hey,” Jensen said, “you’re still beautiful, baby,” he smiled. “I made you mac and cheese. Eat. I’ll grab a quick shower to get the plane smell off me, then I’ll run you a bath,” he held his hand out to silence your protests. “And if you’re a good girl and let me take care of you, you can have a massage when you get out,” he grinned boyishly, knowing he had you where he wanted you.

“A massage or a full body massage?” you giggled as you watched him search for the right response.

“I’ll tell you what. Eat, bathe, and pamper yourself in the tub with a glass of wine and a face mask, and after, I’ll give you a normal, completely innocent massage. If, and only if you still want that,” Jensen licked his lips and smirked, “full body massage to help relieve any deep-rooted tension, then darlin’, I am at your service,” he rasped in his ‘Dean’ voice, and you raised an eyebrow at him.

“Oh, sweetheart, it’s been a month. The only way to get rid of that kind of tension is for those talented fingers to work it out of me,” you lowered your voice seductively. “And I think it’s gonna take a few… releases,” you smirked at his darkening eyes, “to get rid of it completely.”

“Fuck!” Jensen groaned, and you grinned mischievously.

“Oh, and if you need to relieve some tension, my hands and mouth are at your service. Although,” you teased further, “I can think of somewhere else that’ll appreciate it a lot more, and I guarantee you won’t regret using it to your advantage,” you winked.

“You’re gonna kill me one of these days, baby girl,” Jensen grumbled as he headed upstairs to shower and prepare your bath.

You cleared up the mess Jensen had left in the kitchen, rinsed the dishes and put them in the dishwasher. He’d be mad at you for doing it, but you didn’t care. He was also tired and deserved not to worry about a messy house.

Opening the cupboard, you pulled out two glasses. A crystal tumbler for Jensen’s whiskey and a wine glass for you. Filling the ice bucket, you pulled one of his good bottles of Scotch from the cabinet, put it in the bucket, added a bottle of wine, and went upstairs.

The scent of lavender filled the hallway, getting stronger the closer you came to the master bedroom. Smiling, you stopped inside the door and leaned against the wooden frame. You watched with a soft smile as Jensen moved around the room and lit candles. Most were unscented pillar candles, but you noticed the little glass votives on each bedside table and knew they were somewhat responsible for the soothing fragrance permeating the room.

“Found my secret stash, huh?” you spoke, grinning at Jensen’s damp, hedgehog hair and guilty look. “Hey, I’m not mad, baby. Thank you for doing this,” you gestured to the candles and the soft acoustic music playing lowly.

“Anything for m’girl,” Jensen walked over to you and pecked your lips. He took the ice bucket and glasses and placed them on the dresser. “I put your robe over the heated rail so it’ll be nice and cosy when you get out,” he glanced at you with a soft smile, opened the wine bottle and poured you a large glass.

“Thank you,” you walked over to him and wrapped your arms around his waist. He chuckled and pulled you closer, arms around your shoulders and tucking your head under his chin. You sighed and melted into his body.

“What’s this for?” he asked, kissing your hair.

You shrugged, “I just need a hug.”

Jensen kissed your hair again and pulled away slightly, looking down at you with pure adoration. “Well, you can have all the hugs you want for the next three weeks.”

“Promise?” you grinned into his chest.

Jensen chuckled and pulled you in tighter, “I promise. Now, let’s get you in that tub, huh?”

“Yeah,” you smile. “It smells amazing in there!”

Jensen let go of you, filled the wine glass and handed it to you. “Go on in and enjoy. I’ll be here when you get out,” he kissed your forehead and gently pushed you towards the ensuite bathroom.

You gasped at what Jensen had done in there. It was lit only by candlelight, and the steam billowing from the tub filled with bubbles and the lavender scent surrounding you immediately made you relax.

You sighed as you walked to the double sink and stepped out of your heels, kicking them under it. Grabbing a brush and a hair tie, you pulled your hair free of its constraints and brushed it out. Replacing the tight, professional bun with a much more comfortable, messy one, you opened the drawer, grabbed your face cleanser and began to remove the day’s dirt, grime, and makeup, frowning at the dark circles under your eyes.

Finally, you stripped your clothes off, leaving them in a pile on top of your shoes, intending to put them in the laundry basket later. You looked through the sheet masks you kept in a little basket on the counter, settling on one with chamomile and aloe vera, keeping the relaxed vibe in the bathroom.

Sinking into the tub, you sighed loudly as the hot water encompassed your tired body, enveloping you in a warm hug. You placed the mask over your face, rested your head on the bath pillow, and sighed again, letting the water soothe your body, and the lavender soothe your soul.

Relaxed, warm and sleepy, you walk into the bedroom with your fluffy robe wrapped around your body.

“There she is!” Jensen smiled when he saw you. You already looked more relaxed, making him feel lighter than when he first saw you.

“Come on, lie down,” Jensen said, placing a towel over the bedding to protect it from oil. You walked towards the bed, untying the robe. Despite seeing you naked thousands of times, Jensen turned his head to give you privacy. Once ready, you crawled up the bed and lay comfortably on your stomach.

“Comfy, baby girl?” Jensen’s voice is quiet, and you feel the bed dip with his weight. You hummed in response and shivered as his warm hand ghosted down your spine. Jensen poured the lavender aromatherapy oil on his hands and rubbed them together, warming the liquid between his palms.

Straddling your thighs, but careful not to put too much weight on them, he rubbed your lower back, sweeping his hands over your skin, covering it with the slick oil. Moving to your shoulders, he tuts and shakes his head.

“Poor baby, all knotted and tight up here,” he murmured as he increased his pressure.

“Hmm,” you moaned. “Feels good, Jay.”

“Yeah?” Jensen asked, working his thumbs into the knots along your shoulder blades.

“Yeah, it’s perfect,” you purred. You hardly ever took time out for self-care, but when you did, it was something you enjoyed, and you wondered why it was something you didn’t make more time for.

Jensen’s hands continued to work out the knots, and he smiled softly with every moan and hum that left you unchecked. Feeling you relax under his touch and sink further into the mattress made him relax, too.

“How do you feel?” Jensen whispered, not wanting to startle you or ruin your tranquil state as he sat back on the bed.

“I feel good, baby,” your voice was soft – lazy almost, as you turned over to lay on your back, biting your bottom lip when Jensen’s eyes went straight to your naked breasts. “See something you like?” you teased, giggling at his smirk.

“I do,” Jensen’s voice was deep with arousal, “so, can I interest you in a full body massage, or would you like a rain check?” Jensen was always a gentleman; you could see in his eyes (and sweatpants!) that he wanted you, but he knew you were exhausted and would never push you to go further.

“I think,” you smirked, “I want that full body.” It had been a month for both of you, but the excitement on his features made you laugh. “You’d think we never have sex with that look on your face!”

“Can’t a man miss his wife?” Jensen chuckled. “Miss her body because his hand just won’t cut it after a while?” he bit his lip and placed his hands on your chest, rubbing and caressing your breasts and down your torso. He hooked his fingers in the fabric of your simple cotton panties and pulled them down your legs.

Dropping them on the floor, he kneeled between your legs, gently pushing them up before pulling them apart, placing them on either side of his body and opening you up to him.

“Hmm,” he hummed, licking his lips at your glistening folds. “A month is far too long, baby girl. Never going that long without you or this pretty little pussy again,” Jensen murmured and lowered himself to your core, licking a long line up your slit.

You had missed this. Jensen’s tongue was unbelievably talented, never failing to make you come multiple times over hours when he was in the mood. Still, you knew tonight wouldn’t be one of those nights. Tonight, you’d fall apart embarrassingly quickly on his tongue, and then he’d be too desperate to tease you more.

Jensen slid a hand up your body, cupping your breast and grinned into your folds as he felt your body arch further into his touch. Your hand covered his and squeezed, forcing him to grip your breast harder. Taking the hint, he slid his other hand up your chest and began to play with both.

That was all that it took for you to fall over the edge. You grabbed Jensen’s hands from your chest and linked your fingers with his, moaning incoherent curses as your body convulsed through its climax.

“That’s m’girl,” Jensen murmured as he placed one last kiss to your centre before dragging his lips up the rest of your body, nipping and sucking along the way. His warm hands skimmed your body, and he hummed lowly at the softness of your skin, making you putty in his hands.

Jensen’s kisses finally reached your lips, and the combination of his soft lips and your taste on his tongue sent another wave of arousal shooting through your body. Your hands grabbed the hem of his shirt and tugged at it viciously until he got the message and pulled it off. 

His eyes rolled as your nails gently raked over his lower back and around his stomach. You dipped your hand into his sweats, finding his erection and clasping your hand around it. The groan that rumbled from him was the sexiest thing you’d ever heard, making his desperation for you clear as day. He dipped his head and placed his lips to yours once more, the kiss slow and sweet at first, but as you began to pump your hand up and down his length, he pushed his tongue into your mouth and deepened it. 

Jensen’s hand moved from your hip and skimmed up your torso. He gripped your breast and squeezed before trailing his fingers back down and settling between your legs. Running his thumb down your folds, he coated his thumb with your slick before expertly finding your clit and flicking the tiny bud.

“Good girl,” he mumbled, breaking the kiss as your legs automatically opened wider for him.

Jensen focused his lips and tongue on your breasts, sucking a nipple into his mouth with a contented hum. You moaned loudly as your body arched up, forcing yourself into him further, the movement causing his thumb to press into your clit just a little bit harder and pushing you just a little bit closer to the edge.

Wanting more, you started to grind your hips into him, increasing the pressure of his thumb against the tiny bundle of nerves. “That’s it, baby, take what you need,” Jensen growled as he trailed kisses up your chest, “tonight is all about you.” 

You continued to grind against his hand, tumbling straight into another climax the second his lips attached to your throat. Jensen held you closer, slowing the flick of his thumb and prolonging your high just a little without overstimulating you.

You shivered, suddenly feeling cold, as you returned to yourself and whined when you noticed Jensen standing at the edge of the bed. Chuckling, he pulled his sweatpants off and crawled back up your body.

“Hey, I’m not going anywhere, baby,” he smiled, kissing the tip of your nose. “Are you ready?” he whispered while rutting himself through your folds, coating himself in your arousal.

“For you, always,” you smiled, but as he pushed his hips forward and entered you, your head fell back, and a low moan tore from your throat. With a growled string of curses, Jensen filled you to the brim and stilled.

“Fuck, Jensen!” you gasped.

“You okay, baby?” he asked, stroking your cheek, his brow furrowed in concern.

“I’m good. I missed this. I missed you,” you whimpered and wrapped your arms around Jensen’s neck, pulling him towards you and pecking at his lips. Slowly, Jensen pulled his hips back and thrust forward slowly and gently.

The lazy way that you made love was everything you needed and more. As you both succumbed to your climaxes, you knew that you’d always be safe in his arms and that he’d always take care of you the way you took care of everyone else.

Tags: @akshi8278 @ashbatz @candy-coated-misery0731 @chriszgirl92 @deans-baby-momma @deans-spinster-witch @deansbbyx @deanwanddamons @duncanhillscoffeecups @foxyjwls007 @giggles1026 @globetrotter28 @hobby27 @hoboal87 @impala67rollingthroughtown @iprobablyshipit91 @jackles010378 @jamerlynn @jc-winchester @k-slla @kazsrm67 @kmc1989 @lacilou @ladysparkles78 @leigh70 @lyarr24 @maliburenee @michecolegate @mrsjenniferwinchester @nancymcl @negans-lucille-tblr @perpetualabsurdity @roseblue373 @sandlee44 @sexyvixen7 @snackles87 @spnwoman @stixnstripesworld @stoneyggirl2 @suckitands33 @synmorite @tristanrosspada-ackles @twinkleinadiamondsky @waters-2567 @winchestergirl1720