#so I drew this at 5am right? cause fuck sleep

[hyperfixationstation1]

Cosette Wip

[blue-eyed-bloodstains]

1. First thing you wash in the shower? my hair 2. Are you more of a coffee or alcohol drinker? I’d never stop drinking either if it were possible, especially alcohol 3. Would you kiss the last person you kissed again? of course he’s my fiance :P 4. Do you plan outfits? no 5. How are you feeling RIGHT now? tired and stressed 6. Whats the closest thing to you thats red? the blanket over me  7. What would you do if you opened your door and saw a dead body? O_O...what the fuck?! I’d scream blue bloody murder slam the door shut, lock it and call 911 8. Tell me about the last dream you remember having? considering it’s 5am and I’m still wide awake, and the last I had dozed off and woken up was yesterday at like 4:30pm ish? I barely remember now but I know it was really fucked up 9. Three of your current feelings? stressed, tired, lonely 10. What are you craving right now? a strong drink...hell I’ll drink it straight, just give me something! 11. Turn ons? honesty, sense of humor, respectful, kind, nice eyes and smile, patient, good communication, supportive 12. Turn offs? arrogant, rude, entitled, ignorant, pushy, flirtatious towards other women, abusive, controlling, anger issues 13. What comes to mind when I say cabbage? MY CABBAGESSSSS!!! XD 14. When was the last time you cried? Why? last week when he told me he wasn’t gonna be home this week for a home visit from the job he’s been on in NZ since February...that he’s there till the “end” (doubt it’s over, he’ll have to go back eventually) of it which is the end of May... 15. If you could be a superhero, who would you want to be? Deadpool for sure 16. Did the one person who hurt you most in your life apologize? yeah but it was complete bullshit... 17. Do you bite into your ice cream or just lick it? lick it 18. Favorite movie ever? not possible to choose 19. Do you like yourself? hell no 20. Have you ever met a celebrity? yeah 21. Could you handle being in the military? I’ve considered it at one point but I know deep down I’d never be able to handle it...not just physically, but the mental hell I’d be put through with the treatment. it’s way too dangerous cause of my already existing mental illnesses and history of trauma.. 22. What are you listening to right now? I have crime shows on tv  23. How many countries have you visited? never left the country 24. Are your parents strict? my mom was a severely overprotective parent...pretty much the suffocating type, my dad was a bit more laid back  25. Would you go sky diving? hell no 26. Would you go out to eat with a stranger? maybe, it depends but probably not without knowing at least basics about the person 27. Whats on your mind right now? overthinking as always and just wanna go to sleep 28. Is there anything you want to say to someone? lots 29. Have you ever been in a castle? nope, never got my Hogwarts letter :| 30. Do you rent movies often? used to. obviously Blockbuster growing up, then Redbox for years...now just stream for free with the occasional still going to the theater for certain movies 31. Whats your zodiac sign? Taurus 32. When was the last time you had sex? been too long, we’re way overdue... 33. Name five facts about yourself. - I’m a tomboy - I was on a parent/child bowling league when I was very young with my dad, we won trophies and beanie babies...good god the bags of duplicate beanie babies... - I was in gymnastics and dance when I was between about 4-7 and have video from some of the performances - I’m a huge horror fan - I’ve been in an inpatient facility before 34. Ever had a near death experience? If so, what happened? yep...my bday 2015, I got acute alcohol poisoning with perc in my system too and ended up in the ER without any memory of what happened.  and last year, March 21, 2022 I totaled my car careening off the road into trees, totaling the car and should be dead. my first DUI and my BAC at the hospital when they drew my blood was .408, which everyone was surprised I wasn’t seizing or comatose by that point. miraculously with most of my roof caved in and the windshield caved in with a branch through it inches from where my head was, I walked away with bruises and major whiplash...nothing serious 35. Do you believe in karma or predestiny? yeah 36. Brown or white eggs? both are good 37. Do you own something from Hot Topic? hell yeah that’s my store! 38. Ever been on a train? many times (Amtrak) 39. Ever been in love? yes...and currently am 40. If you were paid 1 million dollars to spend the night in a supposed haunted house, would you do it? I know I’d regret it but yeah most likely lol 41. If you could trade places with any person living or dead, who would you trade places with? my grandparents...Mimi and Grandpa, they didn’t deserve to go the way they did... 42. If you could shorten your life expectancy by 10 years to become more attractive, would you do it? probably 43. Whom do you admire and why? several people for several reasons... 44. What was your favorite bedtime story as a child? not sure, don’t remember ever really being read to sleep at night so.. 45. You’re walking down the street, you come across a burning building. A woman says her baby is trapped inside, what would you do? I don’t have the courage to run in myself and try to find it, as guilty as I feel saying that...I’d try to comfort her and call for help, screaming out for anyone else to help in the meantime 46. If you could choose the future profession of your son or daughter, would you? no. it’s their life, they’ll decide what they wanna do and what they’re passionate about and what makes them happy, and I’ll support them 100% 47. What was your best experience on drugs or alcohol? being able to drink till I blacked out and couldn’t anymore and be numb and shut my head up even just for a short amount of time... 48. What was your worst experience on drugs or alcohol? all the hell it brought down on me from family...and causing me to finally have a record as well as total my car that I’d only had for three months at that point. 50. As your walking down the street you find a suitcase full of money sitting next to a parked car, would you take it? no, turn it in and yes I mean that 51. If you found that a close friend has AIDS, would you still hang out with them? of course, I’m not like that to where I’d discriminate or treat them like the plague avoiding them at all costs. that’s beyond fucked up. I’d be more careful, obviously, but nothing would change 52. In front of you are 10 pistols, 5 of which are loaded. If you survive you’d receive 100 million dollars. Would you be willing to place 1 to your head and pull the trigger? no...given my history of suicidal tendencies and ideation, that’s way too much of a trigger (pun intended) for me to even consider or be asked to do. 53. How old were you when you lost your virginity? 19, three months shy of turning 20...I was very late to the game, not exactly by choice either just never had the opportunity or means and I wasn’t like most girls my age doing it so young 54. Do you believe in ghosts, werewolves or vampires? ghosts yeah, definitely 55. If you could live forever, would you want to? absolutely not...life is hell 56. Which fictional movie character most resembles who you are? Hermione Granger, hands down. the book smarts, the averageness, the insecurity, the quiet loner, the intelligent know it all, the best in class, the wit, the kindness, the loyalty to friends, the perfectionist... 57. If you could go back in time, which time period would you visit? as fucked up as this sounds, and as much of a death wish as it is? I’d definitely wanna see the dinosaurs 58. If they were to televise a live execution, would you watch it? ummm...?? my curiosity is a bitch so I have a bad feeling I would 59. If you could be the president of the USA, would you be willing to do it? FUCCCCKKKKK NOOOOOOO! fuck that shit, I’m out! 60. If you could choose the sex of your unborn child, would you want to? no I’d be fine with either gender it wouldn’t really matter to me.  61. Would you rather live longer or be wealthy? live longer...though wealthy would definitely help some things

[collecting-stories]

Teardrops on my Guitar - Rafe Cameron

Summary: the reader likes Rafe but he doesn’t like her back.

A/N: I totally made this a Rafe fic cause the guy Taylor sings about is named Drew 😂😂

The TS Anthology Series | Outer Banks Masterlist

_ . ◦ ⭐︎:*.☾.*:⭐︎◦∙._

One of the guys. It was a phrase that got tossed around whenever you were brought up. In junior high, when you first started hanging out with Topper and Kelce, people had made up all sorts of rumours. 

They said you were sleeping with Topper, sleeping with Kelce, sleeping with both of them…the whole of kook academy spread rumours about you being a slut until you hated going to school. Until Rafe started hanging out with the three of you. No one would say a thing about Rafe, especially not after he punched a guy and broke his nose over a comment about you being a whore.  

You didn’t think that was the exact moment that you decided Rafe was it for you but you figured it was somewhere around then. When it was just the two of you hanging out all those feelings rushed to the surface, you were a little bit infatuated with him, you’d admit it to yourself. He was the type of guy everybody wanted to gain the attention of and you had it but it was never quite enough. Because you knew something no one else did. Rumours were just rumours, in Rafe’s eyes you were just like Sarah or Wheezie, a cute little sister not a girlfriend. He treated you like a kid, like exactly what everyone said you were, one of the guys.  

“She’s so great,” and, if it wasn’t bad enough knowing that he would never like you back, he always seemed to like someone else.  

“She sounds great.” You replied, sitting in his truck with him after school, waiting for the line of cars to move so you could get out of the parking lot. Usually, you loved this time of day. Sitting in the car with Rafe, enduring his questionable taste in music and talking about random crap. It was just simple and nice. Ever since Rafe got the truck he drove you home, no matter what else he might’ve had going on that day. But on rare occasions, when Rafe set his sights on some girl that would inevitably fall head over heels (because they always did) you had to endure this.  

Topper was always sympathetic to you and, while you knew he meant well, the apologetic smile on his face every time that Rafe had a new girlfriend was like a knife twisting in your heart. You wanted to be the supportive friend who got along with Rafe’s girlfriends and didn’t let relationships get in the way of your friendship but every time someone new came into the picture your resolve broke away a little more.  

Sometimes, he noticed.  

“Hey you,” he’d come by your soccer practice, hanging on the other side of the fence by the belchers. All the other girls on your team would start whispering to each other, as if they didn’t already know that Rafe was friends with you. “Haven’t seen you around in a couple weeks.”

That was never entirely true. He’d seen you around, at Topper’s on Friday nights after parties, but he hadn’t really talked to you. Mainly because Topper never let him get a word in.  

“I’ve just been busy.” Not really though, unless sitting at home, doing your best impression of Emma Roberts in Unfabulous, playing the old guitar your dad had bought you at a garage sale, actually counted as being busy.

“We should hang out, this weekend?”

“What about...” you frowned, trying to think of the girl’s name. She was in your science class and always tried to talk to you about Rafe but after the first week of you ignoring her, she took the hint. “Marci?”

“Maci.”

“Maci...what about her?” You asked.

“We broke up.” He shrugged, “Anyway, what’d you say? Just you and me.”  

That was always the moment you caved. Just the two of you. It was so tempting and you wondered sometimes if Rafe knew. Did he have any idea that you liked him? Sometimes you thought that he had to, that he had to know that you liked him and that he was just toying with you. But you were too hopeful for your own good.  

“Yeah, definitely.” You always agreed. “Whatever you wanna do.”

Going out was always the same. Disappointing. Rafe would pick you up and claim that you were just going over to the island club, you could hang out and have lunch. You loved the idea but it never lasted because half way through lunch, like every other time, some girl would show up and you would become the third wheel to Rafe’s date.  

Sometimes you ducked out right away but sometimes you hung around, disappearing from the lunchroom under the guise of having to use the bathroom and taking solace in the kitchen, hanging out with Kiara’s friend JJ.  

“You shouldn’t waste your time.” JJ always said the same thing as Topper, arguably the only thing they agreed on.

“I’m not wasting my time, we’re friends.” You argued. “It’s not his fault that he doesn’t like me.”

On the days that you left you always went to Topper’s house and spent the rest of the afternoon with him and Kelce, playing video games or watching TV. Rafe might text you but usually he never noticed. Not for a few weeks and then he would realize that he hadn’t seen you in a couple of weeks and he’d be right back at practice asking you to hang out.  

“I’ll see you after practice, you want a ride?” He asked.  

“Yeah, sure.” And just like that the cycle was repeating itself.  

-

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[captain-emmajones]

Love, Emma (6/7)

(Art by the wonderful @carpedzem​ <3)

Loosely based on Love, Rosie (2014).

Killian and Emma are best friends and neighbors. They’ve always been – until he leaves for the Navy when his brother dies. When he comes back, nine months later, summer has begun and childhood is ending. Emma can tell something is changed in him, but she doesn’t know what. Until she does. He’s fallen in love with someone else.

And then, suddenly, they’re kissing on her nineteenth birthday. When she asks him to forget their night out, and never talk about it again, Killian thinks she means to tell him she regrets the kiss they exchanged. Except she has no memory of it.

Killian and Emma will dance around each other, until their heads spin and their legs hurt, and everything becomes blurry and it has to stop – for both of their sake.

A huge thank you to @profdanglaisstuff who beta’d this and gave me her precious thoughts <3

Friends to Lovers - Mutual Pining - Angst - Fluff - 6000 words - ao3

Part 1 - MIRRORBALL, Part 2 - AUGUST , Part 3 - HOAX, Part 4 - PEACE, Part 5 - THIS IS ME TRYING,  Part 7 - INVISIBLE STRING

Note: Everyone gives a lot of love to @carpedzem​ who drew this wonderful art for this fanfic :’)) 

Quick Summary: Last chapter ended on Neal finding Killian's love letter to Emma. This chapter opens on Emma, a week after Killian and Emma's kiss.

Reminder: Present time is Emma’s wedding to Neal, and that scene on the balcony during which Killian congratulates Emma on her wedding -- although he’s mostly dying inside. The words “I love you” slip out of his mouth, however he’s quick to add “as a friend” which leaves us with two very sad individuals who are both committing a grave mistake.

PART 6 - CARDIGAN

Six months before Emma’s wedding, a week after Emma and Killian’s kiss.  

Emma tosses and turns in her bed. She does not want to glance at the clock sitting on her bedside table. It’s probably joyfully, painfully displaying a horrendous number set between 1am and 5am and Emma wants nothing to do with it.

 There is not a spark of light in the room she shares with Neal, the heavy window shutters closed down.

 Emma wishes there was some kind of light. Perhaps then the weight over her chest would feel less terrifying, would feel less like the terrible, dark blue waves of a tormented sea she watches swallow her alive and spit her back onto the sand. 

 She’s battered between the waves, back and forth, back and forth, skin rocking against water, until she manages to reach the surface and breathes in deeply.

 But she’s only inhaling sea water and it fills her lungs and brings her to tears and it’s bitter, and it’s shit, and she cannot forget the taste of Killian’s lips.

 Another turn, a grunt of anger and despair.

 How dare he kiss her and let her leave him when he was in pain. How dare he.

 It was inevitable, whispers another part of her, but that part she ignores diligently. 

 Nothing is inevitable. Especially cheating on her future husband. With her friend whose feet were barely out of the surgery block.

 Well, she didn’t properly cheat if he was the one to kiss her…that would have been true, had she not furthered their kiss.

 Had she not backed him into his chair and sucked his breath away and marked his scalp with her fingers and tugged on his hair and filled his entire being with her, and her only. It was long overdue, after all.

 She turns, more aggressively this time, nearly knicks Neal out of the bed, her right foot whizzing past him. 

 She kissed him back because he was clearly seeking support and comfort and because a part of her will always love him, has always loved him and there’s nothing wrong with that.

 Horseshit.

 It is wrong. Utterly, completely, wrong.

 Nobody deserves to be cheated on. Nobody. Period.

 She’s just a piece of shit, now, is she?

 She glances on the side. Neal is still laying on his back, peacefully snoring, one arm flung across his face. She nearly hates him for it. She totally hates him for it.

 His chest raises up and down, comfortably, peacefully. What would Emma give for just an ounce of peace in her veins.

 Her breath is coming out in short puffs.

 It was inevitable, stammers once again her inner voice.

 “NO.”

 And the scream she thought only existed in her mind causes Neal to startle next to her, and this time she’s thankful it is complete darkness in their room, because he cannot see the flush on her cheeks.

 She can make out the shadow of his head lifting in the dark, and she imagines his features groggy with sleep. “You okay, Emma?”

 She turns back, grumbles. “Yeah, don’t worry. It’s just a nightmare.” And she definitely sounds like she’s blaming him for it.

 .

A long, tortuous week flies by. Emma’s under-eye circles darken with each passing day, and she is alarmly pale when Graham asks her in a weary tone: “You’re sure everything’s okay, Emma?”

 She nods and glances down at where Graham has been looking, and she realizes she’s been holding the files upside down.

 Well.

 “Shit. Yes. Sorry, Graham. I’ve been having a rough couple of days, is all.”

 And then Graham does this thing where he leans into her space, with his big brown eyes, and this kindness in his smile, and he inquires again: “Everything okay with Neal?”

 And Emma nods a bit too abruptly for it to be believable, and she knows Graham is smart enough to see it, but she nods harder, it’s the only movement her brain seems to know. “Neal? It’s never been better.” And a quick, lively chuckle to seal the deal. 

 And really had she laughed harder she would have choked on her fears.

 (Her fears have blue eyes and are missing a limb now, and she does not dare to send him a text, to ask him “How are you?” because he must be feeling like shit, and in part it is because of her, she left him, but he had no right to kiss her like this and she had no right to kiss him back.)

 .

 She has David on the phone later this week.

 “Hello, Emma. I’ve arrived in Portsmouth. I’ll be spending the week with him.”

 She hates the feeling of guilt that circles her heart, even as she sighs her biggest sigh of relief. 

“Thank you, David, it means the world. I would have come, you know, but I’m so busy with the wedding and the sheriff station and—”

 “Sure thing, Emma,” he blurts out and Emma thinks he sounds so accusative, it nearly knocks her out. She is convinced she deserves it. “I’ll take care of him, don’t worry.” A few words more, and he hangs up.

 For the first time in ages, Emma feels like Killian and she are on opposite teams, and David has chosen his.

 She swallows a lump down her throat. 

 .

 Emma caves in on Saturday night. Outside, the rain is pouring heavily against her windows. The wind is also howling, curling around the walls of the house and threatening to crush it under its strength. 

Neal is out at Granny’s watching a soccer game with friends when Emma sits down on the hard wooden floor of their living room. Her legs are crossed and her heart is drumming in her ears, and she calls him. There’s a bottle of red wine in front of her, and it’s looking at her with a lot of judgement in its glassy eyes but Emma doesn’t care.

 She cannot go on like this. She needs to know that he is alright, and that this was all a grave, stupid mistake, and she needs him to say something like “I’m fine, Emma, I’ll survive this” but also “I meant to do that for years” and then it would be her cue to nod under the ceiling light, tears in her smile and she’d say some stupid shit like “Oh god, I’ve been waiting for you to say that” and then she’d drop everything to fly back to him and they’d be happy together or some shit.

 Ring, ring, ring.

 That’s a lovely dream indeed.

 Ring, ring, ring.

 And just as Emma gets impatient, not to say she gets scared, a voice answers her. It’s a groggy, foggy voice, and it does not belong to Killian.

 “Hello, what is it?” The voice echoes, chuckles, as music resonates behind it, and it is the voice of a woman.

 Emma figures they must be in some kind of pub, just like Neal is.

 “Is this Killian’s phone?” attempts Emma, fingers clutched onto the phone, and heart on her sleeves.

 “Yup...” Another giggle. Emma decides she hates the voice. “But he is currently unavailable. Do you want me to give him a message?”

 And then Emma hears his voice, emerging from a twirl of songs and other talks. “Why are you using my phone, Tink?”

 Emma thinks Killian’s voice irrupts into her empty house just as a gust of wind rattles her shutters. She flinches. And for a minute, glances above her shoulder, afraid that he might appear behind her back. 

But silence is her only companion. And this house is so impressively, distinctively silent. 

 Something clicks inside of Emma’s brain. Tink. She knows Tink. What’s her real name? Mary something. They went to high school together, and she had a disgustingly big crush on Killian, and, and –

 “I dunno, some chick.”

 And Emma barely has time to hear Killian’s “Which chick?” before she hangs up on a whim.

 She heaves, hands trembling around the phone, and something grotesque disfigures her face.  

 She was worried about him and he’s been having the time of his life with this Tink, and, and – what was she expecting?

 She stares at the floor as though she is able to distinguish the broken bits of her heart spilled there, and the bloody marks they leave, and it’s such a goddamn mess, and how could she allow herself to feel this way after all these years, after having been shown all the goddamn reasons why Killian Jones will never love her back a hundred fucking times.

 .

 Rose-Mary, of her surname Tink, tosses and turns in Killian’s bed. He is fast asleep next to her, one hand thrown across his face. He snores lightly.

 Tink has this tingling desire deep within her, this desire to grab the phone he left on his nightstand and delete Emma Swan’s call from it.

 “Give me the phone, Tink!”

 Back in the bar, she was quite lucky to find out in the shape of his raised eyebrows that Killian Jones wasn’t actually serious, that he was seriously hammered and couldn’t have cared less for his phone if he had tried. As her only answer, she had simply locked her lips to his and pressed his phone’s home button to switch it off.

 Because Tink knows Emma Swan.

 Killian Jones was already in love with her when Tink asked him out, during their senior year. She cannot forget the look on his face, as she was standing in the middle of the hallway, risking her heart. Behind her, Emma Swan was leaning against a locker with Mary Margaret and Ruby, and Killian simply, positively wouldn’t look Tink in the eyes.

 “I’m sorry, love,” he said, “but my affections lie elsewhere.” And Tink remembers thinking he surely didn’t have to sound like he escaped from one of Shakespeare’s plays, and she turned to discover the pretty blonde smiling at Killian, waving with mischief, and his arm around her shoulders as soon as he reached her.

 Some things were truly unfair.

 As luck would have it, Killian’s path crossed hers years ago – when he moved to Portsmouth to join the Navy whilst she began Nursing school. But even then, he didn’t seem interested, was dating an older woman.

 And then, finally, two days ago, their paths crossed again in a bar. He is missing a hand now, but he is still the same handsome guy she crushed on in high school. Perched on a stool, he looked disheveled, desperate, nose in his rum glass, and he welcomed her into his warm, solid arms.

 “Still in contact with Emma Swan?” she asked, and it wasn’t like she cared. She didn’t want more than he could offer. But still, she asked.

 “Emma? Who’s Emma? I only see you.”

 Although she knew that to be a lie, she still decided to kiss him back, knowing the instant Killian Jones heard Emma Swan’s name again, well then, he would find a very gentle, delicate way to make her go away.

 And that’s fine. But if she can prevent it, well –

 Tink stands up as silently as she can, and like a feather in the wind, grabs his phone. He casually gave her his pin number earlier during the night — change this bloody song Tink will you — and Tink deletes Emma’s call in the blink of an eye.

 Satisfaction sparkles in her heart. No one will bother them anymore.

 .

 As Neal and Emma go on tasting wedding cakes, Emma thinks about how Killian never called her back. Not the morning after her conversation with Tink, not the night after, not the day after, he did not call. Period. It’s the only answer he is willing to give, and she accepts it.

 He doesn’t care about her. Not like she cares, anyway.  

 “The chocolate one,” Emma mumbles, trying not to spit crumbs of cakes out of her mouth and failing, “it’s perfect.”

 Delicacy remains a skill she has yet to learn.

 But Neal doesn’t seem to mind when he chuckles and kisses her cheek. Emma grabs his face and doesn’t care that there are still chocolate chunks in her mouth and she kisses him, hard, to forget the taste of Killian Jones’ lips.

 .

 Killian stares at the picture of Emma and himself on his fridge. It’s been a month, stammers his heart. She will not call, now.

 Tink is still sleeping in his bed. He needs to call things off with her as well. She’s too attached, he’ll break her heart. That’s one too many hearts to be responsible for.

 He swallows stone, but he takes the picture off the fridge. It’s too painful to stare at what ifs.

 .

 A few minutes before Emma and Neal say “I do”.

 Taking a picture off a fridge is simple enough. Not racing towards the town hall of Storybrooke to try, one last time, and stop Emma’s wedding, isn’t nearly as easily done.

 Hope and denial are, after all, two very close kingdoms and both of them inhabit Killian’s heart.

 At least he’s got that going for him. However, Mary Margaret and David – who are also running beside him – really have nothing going for them except for their foolishness.

 How dare they show up in his home and tear him out of his cobweb of misery and self-pity. How bloody dare they.

 “There’s no use arguing, I’m not going!” he yelled, and then Mary Margaret had this very dangerous smile, and before he knew it, his ass sat on a plane between the two of them and he was wearing his most expensive tie.

 “And look sharp, Killian.” 

 Which is why, as Killian races down that street corner, and up that small hill by Granny’s, and then down again Main street, towards the town hall, Killian no longer expects Emma and Neal to come out of the building, holding hands, married. 

 But that’s exactly what happens.

 They come out as a crowd of strangers surrounds them, and they look like the sun has set all of its rays of sunshine on them, they are shining, shining, much like the waves of fear down Killian’s belly because he is too late. Of course he is. 

 And he wants to turn around and hit David in the face. 

 But what’s the use of fighting anymore? The war is lost. Lay your weapons down. Bring the soldiers home.

 And in that moment, as the sun seems to align with some divine power and its golden beams shine on Emma’s eyes, glittering green lakes, she gazes at him and he holds his breath. In spite of everything, he still thinks she is the most beautiful woman on earth. He smiles, as his heart shatters to the ground, as Neal kisses her open mouth. 

What is there else to do but smile?

 “Fuck,” exclaims Mary Margaret next to him, and Killian sure does nod.

 “Aye. Couldn’t have said it better myself.”  

 .

 Present day – Neal and Emma’s wedding reception.

 Neal watches as Emma shuts the large French windows that lead to the balcony behind her. He puts down his glass of champagne on the white table in front of him. The bubbles fizz inside, as if to mock him.

 For there’s not the shadow of a smile on his wife’s face. In fact, she looks utterly devastated. Her complexion is pale, her cheeks have lost all the colors they gathered during their dances, and there is not one sparkle of happiness left in her green eyes.

 A frown. Why does his wife look devastated at their wedding?

 He sees her glance down, seemingly lost, and she does this thing when she doesn’t know where to put her hands, so she folds them in front of her. And she plays with the bracelet around her wrist, twists the little charms, twists, twists his heart.

 And then he realizes. She’s waiting. But for what? Or rather, for whom?

 He wishes the answer didn’t come quite as soon, not quite as sharply, he wishes the room did not start spinning as Killian Jones leaves the balcony in his turn – devilishly handsome as he’d say and looking entirely like a mess.

 What a picture. They both look devastated. They look like the bride and groom, him in his white shirt and her in her white dress. Two bleeding snowflakes under a golden chandelier.

 Neal watches as Emma risks a glance back, but Killian doesn’t look up, only stares at the hard wooden floor, Neal watches as she presses her lips together and straightens her back, but still glances back at him.

 Always back at him. Of course. 

 And that’s when one realization hits Neal quite hard.

 His wife… His wife is in love with someone else. He just married someone who is irrevocably and for all of eternity in love with someone else.

 Why did he do this to himself? For the longest of times, Neal thought it didn’t matter that Emma’s gaze was filled with green, shimmering clouds of pain whenever Killian Jones’ name was mentioned in a conversation, he really thought it didn’t matter that her cheeks would always flush whenever she received a text from him, because he was the one kissing her lips and sleeping between her sheets.

 He was such a fool.

 He married a woman in love with someone else.

 Such a fool.

 Neal grabs his glass of champagne again, downs it in a few angry mouthfuls, and gathers courage and legs to stand and stride towards his wife.

 Emma might be in love with Killian, but she loves him too, surely she does, or she wouldn’t have agreed to this marriage, right?

 And there is something very scary vibrating in his chest, fear, a green and viscous fear, he’s losing her, she’s slipping between her fingers…

 “Neal,” Emma’s voice is very soft as it greets him, but her smile doesn’t reach her eyes.

 How dare she, how dare she be in love with Killian, when Neal gave up everything for her, when he…

 From the corner of his eye, Neal can see Killian lean against the wall. He is looking at them. Perfect. Now watch, you little fucker.

 “Hello, baby,” two words, and Neal dips Emma and savagely presses his lips onto hers.

 A burst of applause rattles the crowd. 

Neal tries his best to muffle the voice inside his head that sneers that the only thing their guests are cheering at, is the end of their love.

 .

  “I’m going back to our room, I’m really tired” mumbles Emma over her empty mojito glass.

The sea whispers behind her back. Neal doesn’t look up from his piña colada. 

 On the terrace of this luxurious hotel by the French Riviera, Neal and Emma are sitting and everything sucks.

 It is the third day of their honeymoon, and for Neal, it is the last straw. There is no way in hell he can keep up this charade. They both deserve better than this.

 She’s been looking miserable since they arrived here – it isn’t for a lack of trying to conceal it. Actually, no, it’s worse than that. She’s been looking miserable since Killian Jones left their wedding without a look back at her. Should have seen her face, Eurydice left by Orpheus in the depths of hell.  

 It’s killing him to see her like this, to know there’s nothing he can do to make things better. Purely and simply because, as much as he’s tried to, Neal Cassidy will never replace Killian Jones in Emma Swan’s heart.

 And as she bends towards him to give him a quick peck on the lips, a very vicious sentence tickles his tongue and he lets it out without a second thought.

 “Bet you looked more eager to kiss Killian.”

 It is a dick move, yes, but after all he isn’t the one who cheated on her, and Neal thinks she deserves a little karma.

 The look she darts on him then would have probably killed him, had there not been empty glasses standing between the two of them to shield him.

 “What the hell are you talking about?” she spits out in a sharp, defensive tone. 

Neal is surprised she tries to deny it all.

 “Your lover sent you a letter,” he hisses back.

 Satisfaction sparkles in his heart at the sight of her face turning crimson under the moonlight.  

 He watches as she angrily gulps a last mouthful of rum, watches as her knuckles whiten around her glass and her jaw clenches. “Who are you talking about?”

“Who the hell do you think I’m talking about?” 

And then the god forsaken, sacrilegious name. “...Killian sent me a letter?”

 And from guilt to anger, there is only one, treacherous step. And she seems eager to jump it.

 “Oh yeah, he did. Said it all about your kiss and loving you, and I nearly vomited…”

 And then it is really upsetting because he wants to be mad but her face does that thing where it just freezes, mouth open wide and eyes even wider, and it would have been funny had he not been putting an end to their short-lived marriage.

 “He…he loves me?”

 She cannot possibly not know it. She can’t be that oblivious to reality.

 “I’m telling you I know you cheated on me and that’s your only reaction?” A roll of eyes, his voice coming out shriller, to mock her, mock her pain, because he wants to hurt her like she hurt him. “ “He loves me?” Of course he loves you, Emma!” he blurts out, because the entire world knows it except for her, apparently.  

 He can’t have married someone as oblivious.

 Well, you did marry her knowing she was in love with someone else.

 And she stands up, cheeks hot and burning and red, and she isn’t making any sense anymore. “What the hell are you talking about? Killian doesn’t love me, he never has.”

 And seeing her wrath, the way her body trembles and shakes, he knows she is truly convinced Killian Jones isn’t in love with her.

 But how…

 “You really don’t know, do you?”

 “Where is that letter?”

 “I got rid of it, of course!”

 “Then you have no proof! How convenient.”

 He wants to stop her then, to yell “Hey YOU cheated on me,” but he can tell that in her grand order of things, her cheating on him has nothing on Killian Jones possibly loving her.

 And then a small, mad chuckle jolts out of her mouth. “Killian would never write a letter. You made that up.”

 “But how would I know about the kiss?”

 “I don’t know, and I don’t care, and I, I—” A turn, and then she is gone, disappearing in a tornado of anger and guilt and sand.

 Neal doesn’t try to hold her back, remains very still on his seat, lets her go, much like he should have years ago. He glances down at the empty drink between his fingers.

 The waves crash against the sand, whoosh, whoosh, and Neal feels terribly lonely.

 But at peace.

 But mostly lonely.

 Damnit, she is stubborn, and she is lucky he’s in love with her. That he’ll always be, somehow, even if he is a fucking idiot who probably blew his only chance at love when he stole those watches.

 .

 Later that night, Neal finds her sitting on their king side bed and its perfectly white blankets, hands folded in front of her like he knows them to, shoulders down and head bent towards the floor, and Neal desperately wants to hug her.

 There is not an ounce of anger left in his body. Only sadness. 

 There’s not a flicker of light in their room as he sits down by her side. The rustle of the waves can be heard from their room. It’s the only reason why he chose it. He knows she loves that sound. 

(He doesn’t know she loves it because of him, but that’s fine.)

  “Hey…” he begins softly, and his shoulder gently bumps against hers. “You okay?”

 She’s twirling her wedding ring around her finger. Of course she is. She always has been. And that should have been a clue, too.

 “Are you being sincere right now?” she asks, and her voice is nothing like the voice he’s grown to love.

 Emma’s voice has always been soft, but vibrating with a very triumphant confidence as well.

 “What do you mean?” he asks, because precisely he doesn’t know what she means.

 He’s never understood her like Killian can, in spite of how much he loves her. And while he spent most of the beginning of his adulthood hating him for it, he realizes now it is simply a battle he cannot win.

 She lifts her face up, and he makes out her shimmering eyes in the darkness.

 “I cheated on you. Aren’t you mad?”

 A gigantic sigh shakes his shoulders as these past six months flash before his eyes.

 “I was angry, Emma. But it’s been too long, I’m not anymore.”

 “Too long?”

 Oh, right, that. She’ll hate him, but well, she deserves the truth. He winces, fidgets with the collar of his shirt.

 “I might have been hiding this letter from you for a good six months now…” he whispers, and forces a smile on his face as an apology. 

 “You what?”

 She doesn’t sound nearly as angry as he expected her to. In fact, she doesn’t sound angry at all. She sounds defeated, hopeless.

 “I was so scared that if I confronted you, you would just run and never marry me, and I thought I could hold on to you by not telling you…But I was wrong. There was no holding on to you.”

 And something terrible rattles her body then, as she cups her face and disappears even more in a small, scared puddle over the bed.

 “Fuck. I’m sorry Neal. I ruined everything.”

 And he shakes his head then, grabs one of her hands. “There’s no need to apologize, Emma. We both fucked up. I should have let you go a long time ago.”

 His throat is tight, but he knows this is the right thing to do.

 “What are we going to do now?” she whispers, just as one of his arms comes to wrap around her shoulders.

 She muffles a sigh in the crook of his neck while he gently brushes her hair.  

 “I don’t know. Is there some kind of three weeks wedding notice?”

 She chuckles then, but he can clearly imagine the tears rolling down her cheeks as she sniffles into his neck.

 “You’re an idiot.”

 “I am.”

 Silence. By then, it’s somehow raining in the room and his shirt is soaked.

 “I’ll always love you. You know that, right, Emma?”

 She nods in the darkness, her hand clutching onto his shoulder, and she seems to him a firefly caught between a child’s chubby hands.

 “I know, Neal.”

 “Good.”

  .

 Moving out of this house is one of the weirdest things Emma has ever had to do.

 “Emma, you’re not coming?” calls David’s voice, and Emma looks up to see his head peering from the driver’s seat of his old, orange truck.

 Safely packing all of the pieces of furniture was a collective effort. Mary Margaret, Ingrid and Ruby also came to help, and Emma is quite thankful. It’s such a blinding, sunny day of August, and if not for the fresh breeze that swirls between the tree branches, it would be unbreathable.

 Emma simply shakes her head. “No, don’t worry. I’ll join you guys later at Granny’s.” 

Her right foot nearly knocks out the small cardboard box at her feet, sending a loop down her stomach. 

This one she’ll carry herself.  

 Neal and Emma agreed to sell the house and the furniture, and Neal – well Neal decided to move to Boston, and Emma cannot quite blame him.

 This last month has been…weird, on so many levels, and Neal wasn’t the weirdest thing about it.

 “Alright. Call us if you need anything.”

 As David drives away, Emma stares back at the house. Her feet seem buried into the doormat, the door still open wide, and her fingers clutch onto the keys.

 It is a bittersweet sight, those empty walls.

 She thinks life has a funny way of coming around. She thinks she thought she’d have a family there, with Neal, she thinks she thought this was what she wanted, what she could bear to have and risk losing.

 She’s glad that Neal showed himself braver than she ever could. That he refused to settle, for both of their sakes.

 She inhales deeply.

 Exhales.

 And lets it go. All of it.  

 Click, she locks the door, and turns her back on her past.

 A summer breeze greets her face, swirls around her legs and tangles her hair, and she closes her eyes into the warm embrace. It carries childhood smells, this smell of burnt wood, and Rocky Road ice-cream, and Killian’s cologne.

 “Heard you needed help moving out?” Her eyes snap open. Her heart skips a beat.

 It’s August in Storybrooke, Maine, and anything is possible again. 

 The wind carries the first fallen leaves to her feet and his scent to her heart. Something mystical splits her face as she takes a step towards him. She nearly trips on the cardboard box at her feet, again, grunts and picks it up in a blink, and she hears it – his laughter in the wind.

 As she looks up, a flower blooms in her chest, carries blood to her heart and her face with its roots, and her lungs are soon filled to the brim with petals. 

 “Yeah.” A quivering whisper, it is hard to breathe when the sun drops golden and blue beams into his eyes. “Thank you, Killian.”

 And in a few strides he imprisons the cardboard box she held against her chest, the one containing memories of her childhood, and his eyes are so warm on her face that he steals her breath away.

 “Any baggage left?” he asks, and it is a hoarse whisper as well. 

She swallows hard.

 She shivers beside him. She’s a fallen leaf herself, caught in a whirlwind. Her eyes are open wide and she feels completely swallowed by his gaze but it is a wonderful kind of fear.

 “Not at all.”

 And he smiles then, and it is one of the most gentle smiles she’s seen on his face, and at last, he is Killian and she is Emma.

 “Good.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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[rinnysega]

Okay so your wedding is coming up and I'm a newer follower. Will you tell us your and your future wife's love story? How did you meet? When did you realize that it was love?

Hello new friend! Welcome to my blog!

And oooh ok! This will get kind of long so I’ll put it under a read more.

@ilonacho and I met in late November/early December of 2015. My friend @prismatoons and I were really into the Disney show Penn Zero: Part time Hero (and still are tbh. idc if it’s ended, it’s still prominent in our lives and will be forever) and one day when I was on vacation, I got a message from her to check out some new artwork that showed up in the tag. The fandom was incredibly small, so news of anything new, especially art, was an immediate “STOP THE PRESSES” kind of moment. 

If you check out her art tag you’ll see how incredible she is, and I was floored by her style and how she drew the characters. So, like the friendly idiot I am, I really wanted to introduce myself, but I was incredibly shy. But, since there were only a handful of people to talk to about PZ, I had to suck it up and approach her if I wanted a new fandom friend, so I stumbled my way into her ask box to let her know that I loved her artwork, and since she was new to the fandom, I’d love to introduce her to people and be a friend if she was looking to talk about the show with anybody. I think I scared her cause I feel I was way too forward in being like “HELLO, WANNA BE FRIENDS?” but like I said, I was a shy. I thought she was super cool and it’s like, who am I to just barge in here and say hello? Lol but anyway…

That leads me to the day things sort of changed I guess? We’d talked through the askbox only a couple of times, and then one day I noticed she had followed me. I was so excited because again, I thought she was the coolest person in the world, and here she is, following me back when she states on her own blog that she doesn’t follow that many people in order to keep her dashboard short and clean, and I was just like “mOM HOLY FUCK”

I told her I was so happy about it and her immediate response was “uhhhhh that was an accident, I dropped my phone on my face and it followed u by mistake” and when I was like “hnnnnnn u can unfollow me if u want” she said it was cool and would keep it the way it is cause I think she felt bad about it. But either way, ever since that incident we started talking more and more and we started hanging out off tumblr like on streams and stuff, and it got to a point by New Years 2016 I had developed a mondo crush. 

Mutual friends started asking us both questions the more we started hanging out and how we interacted together, and we both found out through the grapevine that the other had a crush on us. Just before Valentines Day 2016 we talked about it with each other, but we were unsure of actually dating. We’d just met like two months prior, and even though we were both over 18, we still had a pretty big age gap of 7 years which made me uncomfortable as the older one. Not to mention that long distance between the states and Denmark was a nightmare. We were currently 6 hours apart and I was about to move in a month to California where we’d be 9 hours apart. Didn’t really seem like a good choice, so we decided to stay friends.

In July of that year, I’d settled well in LA, and a co-worker of mine asked me on a date. I said no because at the time I realized that the only person I wanted to be with was Ilo, so I was kind of turned off with wanting to date other people. Another coworker and I talked about it and she recommended that if I wasn’t going to date anyone because I couldn’t get Ilo off my mind, I should just try out the long distance. Ilo and I for months had back and forth conversations about dating where we talked about our fears and wants in relationships, what we were both looking for, what we were both scared of, what we would do if it worked out or didn’t work out, etc, so when I brought this to her attention, she felt she was ready to give it a try, and by then I was ready to try to. So we officially got together on July 25th 2016. 

She first came to visit me here in the states for Valentine’s Day 2017 for about a week. I was very nervous because it was our first time seeing each other in person and I was scared about a lot of things as you could imagine. But when she landed, and I picked her up from the airport, everything felt so…right? I was so awestruck with my crush on her that I missed our exit driving back from LAX and had to take the long way home lol. By the time we got to my apartment, everything felt natural. Neither of us were worried or uncomfortable, and it was almost as if we’d known each other forever.

We went on our first date the day after she got in. It was February 12, 2017 and we went to Universal Studios Hollywood. From there, we had a wonderful week of going to Disneyland and going out to dinner on Valentines Day, and we saw movies together, and painted pottery. It was fantastic and it was so sad to see her leave. She was able to come back for two weeks in the summer to see the Penn Zero finale with me, and then I went to spend two weeks with her and her family in Denmark for Christmas that year. During the time apart and how heart breaking it was to see the other go, I think that’s when I realized it was a lifelong love and neither of us wanted to go without the other. 

We talked a lot about her immigrating to the United States to live with me fulltime since currently she can’t stay in the country anymore than 90 days, so we did a lot of research about how to go about it. We came to the decision together that the best option for us would be to get married in Denmark in Fall of 2018 and have her immigrate to the US as my wife. 

We hadn’t lived together more than 2 weeks at a time, so she came to stay with me between February thru April of this year to see if we could live together for a long period of time. And let me tell you, it was the best 3 months of my life. We’d got into a chore routine, a life routine really, and being able to wake up to her every morning was the best way to start the day (even that one time when she elbowed me in the face). No matter how early it was, 4am or 5am, she’d get out of bed and walk me to the front door as I left for work to kiss me goodbye and make sure I remembered my phone, keys, wallet, etc, even when she was half asleep and groggy. She always walked me to the door no matter what. During that time we also went home to Florida so I could introduce her to my parents, and they loved her just like her parents loved me. 

My mom and I were lying in her bed one morning while Ilona was still sleeping in the guest room, and she told me she thought Ilona was perfect for me. We had a heart to heart where we talked about a lot of personal stuff, but she said more than anything, she and my father wanted me to be happy and to find someone who would love me the way they did, and she said “I see how she takes care of you. It’s the little things she does, like goes behind you to make sure you’re okay, those little things show me and your Dad that she really loves you and we’re so happy for the two of you” like I cried so much. And she and my dad have a 6 year age gap between them, so she as the older one told me not to worry too much about what other people think. As long as we communicate and have a balanced relationship, things would be okay, and they are. 

So right now here we are: we’re getting ready for our TMNT wedding coming up soon where my dad and I will fly to Denmark for a week. My mom would go too but she can’t travel very well so that’s why we’re going to have a second wedding here for my friends and family in 2020. At that point at that ceremony I’ll take her last name and we’ll officially start our family. 

So that’s where our love story is right now! Full of happy tears and cartoon turtles lol She’s also going to come back to the states between mid-October and early January so we can spend all the holidays together. Hopefully the next time she returns will be for good!

And for the record: i still have a mondo crush on her.

[charlessxaviers]

Wild Boy (Finn Balor) Part Five

Pairing: Finn Balor x OFC (Macy McMahon)

Warnings: Language and smut, all the smut.

That morning, Macy McMahon woke up to the loud beeping of her alarm. She reached over to the nightstand and pressed the ‘stop’ button and closed her eyes again after the obnoxious beeping stopped. She let out a happy sigh as she felt herself drifting back to sleep.

BEEP BEEP BEEP!

It went off again seconds later. This time Macy groaned loudly, picking her head up as she tried to press the ‘snooze’ button again, but nothing happened. She had set her phone so that snooze was not an option.

Fuck this damn setting.

Defeated, she sat up, pressing the ‘stop’ button and let out a sigh. She leaned her head against the headboard and closed her eyes.

BEEP BEEP BEEP!

“Fucking hell,” Macy jumped, turning the alarm off once again.

She had set 3 alarms - one for 8:30am, another for 8:31am and another for 8:35am. This would almost guarantee that she’d get her ass out of bed on time. There was no way she was going to be late after what Stephanie put her through yesterday. She would now refer to it as the day from hell.

Macy rolled out of bed, still feeling like a complete zombie even after she washed her face. She looked at herself in the mirror. She had major bags under her eyes. She had a mini freak out as she wondered why was she so damn tired?

Oh right, I didn’t fall asleep until after 5:30am.

She groaned, letting out a sigh as she tried to remember why…

It was nearing 5am and there was frantic knocking on Macy’s door that drew her from her peaceful slumber.

What the actual fuck.

Macy groaned, hoping it would stop after a minute or two, but it didn’t.

Finn Balor knocked on the door, anxiously waiting for Macy to open it.

What’re ya doin’ Balor? Jus’ go back ta bed…

No, you’re doin’ this, stop bein’ a pussy.

Finn remembered which room she was in because he watched he go into it, after the stunt she pulled, he was concerned as to whether or not she’d even get to her hotel room. So, regardless of how angry he was at the time, he made sure she got in okay. But of course, he didn’t let Macy know that.

“Go away!” Macy yelled, waiting to see if the knocking would stop, but it hadn’t.

“Macy, open the door!” she heard Finn’s voice. She let out a groan and covered her face with the pillow. It was silent for a moment while Finn waited to see if she’d come. When she hadn’t, he rolled his eyes and sighed. Then he started knocking again.

Macy groaned, finally rolling out of bed and heading for the door. “Oh, fuck off Balor! I’m trying to sleep!” she said - or more like yelled - as she opened the door. She really didn’t give a shit about who could hear her.

“Shit, Macy, I’m sorry I just had to talk ta you…” Finn said. Macy just stared at him, squinting as her eyes adjusted to the harsh light.

“I hate you,” was all she said before she slammed the door shut in his face. Finn hung his head back, letting out a groan.

He knocked again, this time completely ignoring her pleas to leave her alone.

“Fucking hell, Balor. You better talk and you better talk quick because I have to be up in a couple of hours and you’re a piece of shit for waking me up,” Macy said. She showed no remorse for her words.

Finn’s eyes nearly popped out of his head, but he shook it off, ready to take any jab she threw at him. He figured he deserved it for waking her up.

Macy took her hair and pushed it behind her shoulder, standing there with her brows raised, waiting for him to say something so she could go back to bed.

That’s when Finn’s eyes glanced down at the clothes she was wearing - or lack thereof. She was in a cropped ‘Balor Club’ t-shirt and black lace panties.

“Hello!” Macy snapped, causing Finn to look back up at her eyes.

“Why’re ya wearin’ ma shirt, I thought ya hated me,” Finn challenged. Macy gave him a confused look, raising her brows. Then she looked down and realized what she was wearing.

She rolled her eyes, “Just because I hate you doesn’t mean I can’t wear a comfortable shirt.”

“That’s barely a shirt! It doesn’t even cover yer arse!” Finn snapped back.

Macy shrugged, “Alright. Fine then,” she said before taking it off, leaving her breasts exposed to him - and anyone who just so happened to walk by. “Is this better?”

“Shit, Macy!” Finn’s eyes widened as he pushed her inside before anyone saw her exposing herself. “What the fuck’re ya doin’?!”

That’s when all of Macy’s hostile energy just evaporated. She got a rise out of him and the attention she craved. All she did was raise her brows and smirk at him.

At first, Finn looked at her with a puzzled expression, then his eyes drifted down once again. That’s when it fully clicked with him that Macy McMahon was standing in front of him, shirtless, with a smirk playing on her lips.

He lost all sense of thought and forgot why he was even there. Macy knew it, he was playing right into her hands.

“Like what you see?” she asked innocently, cocking her head at him.

Finn nodded, running his tongue over his bottom lip as he took a step closer to her, not taking his eyes off of her.

“Well, if you like what you see, why don’t you come touch?” Macy asked as she playfully bit her bottom lip.

That’s when Finn absolutely lost it.

He let out a hungry growl as he reached out and grabbed the back of her neck, pulling her into him forcefully. Macy let out a squeal, smirking as Finn’s lips caught hers in a eager kiss. His tongue lightly grazed her bottom lip, begging for entrance. Macy opened her mouth, but took control of the kiss, sliding her tongue in his mouth. She grabbed onto the back of his neck, grabbing a handful of his messy hair as their tongues immediately fought for dominance.

“This needs to come off,” Macy said against his lips breathlessly, tugging on his shirt. “Now.” she pushed on his chest, causing him to take a step back.

Without hesitation, Finn pulled the shirt over his head and discarded it on the floor. Macy smirked, taking a step forward and dragging her nails down his chest. Her lips grazed his before she took his bottom lip between her teeth.

This caused Finn to flinch, jumping back slightly and he ran his tongue over his lips, the taste of blood filling his taste buds. Macy just looked at him with an innocent smirk, her eyes growing dark with lust.

It was like a switch was turned on in Finn’s head. Now he really couldn’t control himself.

He grabbed a fist full of her hair, pulling her to him, kissing her with passion. Macy let out a sigh when his hands finally took a handful of her perky mounds. Finn broke away from the kiss, causing a wince to escape from Macy’s throat, which turned into a moan when his mouth latched itself on to one of her nipples. She tilted her head back as his tongue and teeth skillfully working together until each of her nipples were hard.

Macy had enough of this. She wanted to get down to business.

Her palms laid flat against his chest, pushing him back. Finn could sense her eagerness as she pushed him back against the wall with force. His brows widened, taken off-guard by her aggressive nature.

Macy’s lips - or teeth, rather - attached themselves to his neck, causing a groan of pleasure from Finn. A smirk crossed her lips when she saw his reaction. She continued to nip and suck at the same spot, surely enough leaving a mark, but Finn couldn’t care less.

Her fingertips grazed his chest as her mouth made its way to his collarbone, showing the same attention to it as she did his neck. Her hand moved to palm him through his sweatpants, causing an animalistic growl to escape Finn’s throat.

Macy smirked, tracing the outline of his already hard dick, earning another growl from him.

“Mmm, you like that?” she asked, her lips grazing his ear. Finn nodded as she reached into his pants and pulled his dick out. “You’re so hard for me, baby. Do you want me to suck it?” she asked, pumping his dick in her hand.

“Yes,” Finn barely got out. The pleasure pulsating through his body just from her touch.

Macy got on her knees, pushing his pants down to his ankles. He watched her intently as she made eye-contact with him, her tongue licking his slit. Macy made a satisfied growl after tasting the precum on his tip, licking her lips as she grabbed his length.

She took her time with him, teasing him with the tip of her tongue before finally putting the tip into her mouth, sucking a little bit before pulling back. Finn groaned, watching her as she opened her mouth again, this time taking his entire length in his mouth with ease. His dick twitched inside her mouth as she pulled back, letting out a breath before doing it again.

Finn grabbed a handful of her hair, moving it out of the way so he could watch her as she did this a few times. The last time she switched it up and cupped his balls in her hand, massaging them as she pulled back.

“Fuck, Macy,” Finn closed his eyes, his head knocking back into the wall.

She licked his entire length before sucking on the tip one last time before rising to her feet. Finn watched her as she laid down on the bed.

“Well, are you going to come play with my pussy or do I have to do it myself?” Macy looked at him with her brows raised, her hands slipping into her black lace panties as she moaned from her own touch.

Finn quickly moved towards her, swatting her hand away and taking control himself. Macy smirked, watching him as he knelt in front of her. He grabbed onto her leg and kissed her knees first, before kissing up her thigh. His beard tickling her thighs, sending shivers down her spine.

He took his time, slowly kissing up her thigh, savoring the feeling of her soft skin against his lips. Macy let out a sigh, clearly frustrated by this.

“Oh shut up,” Finn said.

“Then quit taking your time and just- oooh!” Macy moaned when he moved her panties to the side and slid a finger into her already dripping pussy. He was quick to add another finger, watching her as her mouth formed an ‘o’ shape and her back arched off of the bed. He smirked, kissing the inside of her thigh as he curled his fingers inside her, hitting just the right spot.

Finn taking his time was even too much for him. His tongue darted out from his mouth as he licked her clit. Macy’s body jerked beneath him, causing him to smirk as his lips closed down around her sensitive nub and he sucked.

“Finn!” Macy moaned, one of her hand grabbing a handful of his hair.

“God, you taste incredible,” Finn mumbled as he took his fingers out, sucking them clean. His tongue darted out and licked her as his thumb circled around her clit. Macy took her bottom lip between her lips as she squirmed beneath him. As he licked back up to her clit and sucked, he glanced up, noticing her breathing begin to hitch.

“Fuck, Finn - I’m close!” she moaned as he slid two fingers inside of her. She was so close to exploding. His teeth grazed her clit, causing her body to jerk and her to moan even loader. He smirked at her reaction and continued to alternate between sucking and licking her clit. “FINN!” Macy exclaimed, her walls clenching around him as pleasure washed over her. Finn continued to suck on her clit and curled his fingers into her, letting her ride out her orgasm.

Macy wasted no time after she recovered and was quick to pull him up and flip them over so she was on top of him. Usually, Finn was always the one in control, but there was just something about Macy that made him relinquish any control he had and give it to her.

She grabbed his dick, sliding it along her clit and then positioned him at her entrance. She moaned as she settled down on him. Finn was ready to allow her time to adjust, putting his hands on her waist, but Macy was ready to go and she started bouncing on top of him. He groaned, letting his hands fall from her waist and letting her set a pace.

The tension was building inside of her again. Finn felt her walls tighten around him again. He grabbed her waist, helping her keep the pace even as she brimmed closer and closer to her release. “Fuck!” Macy moaned as she rubbed her clit. She slowed down, rolling her hips against him, allowing her to release for the second time.

Finn gave her a second to catch her breath before rolling them over, so this time he was on top. Now it was his turn to be in control.

He slowly slid into her, bottoming out as she moaned beneath him. He pulled out slowly and rammed back into her again and again and again, causing her to cry out from intense pleasure each time.

“Fucking hell!” Macy moaned, tugging on his hair with each thrust. Finn smirked.

“Ya like that?” he did it again.

“Fuck yes, do it again! Harder!” she demanded. Finn groaned, pulling out and slamming into her again. “Right there,” she moaned, tilting her head back. He slid back into her again before setting a pace.

Finn licked her breast, biting on her nipple, causing her to pick up her head and let out a squeal.

“Finn!” she said. He chuckled, doing the same to the other nipple, taking it between his teeth and biting down hard. “Finn! You’re gonna make me bleed!”

“Ya made my lip bleed, love, I’m jus’ returnin’ the favor,” he said, hit teeth grazing her nipple again.

“Fuck! Get over here, I’ll make your fucking lip bleed even more,” Macy said, grabbing the back of his neck and forcefully pulling his lips to hers. Her teeth were quick to take his bottom lip between them, biting down, this time harder than before.

Finn growled into the kiss, immediately tasting the blood. Macy smirked after tasting his blood on her tongue.

This time, Finn took her bottom lip between his teeth and bit her with just as much force as she did, surely enough breaking the skin. Macy moaned, pulling back as her tongue grazed her bottom lip, tasting the blood.

Finn picked up the pace, fucking her harder than before. She tilted her head back, arching her back into him as he fucked her. He felt himself getting close, so he reached out and rubbed her clit in circular motions, building her up to her release.

“Fuck, Finn,” Macy moaned, digging her nails into his back and sliding them down, surely enough leaving marks. He groaned, continuing the same pace as she felt her walls closing down around him. She screamed his name this time, probably loud enough for everyone on the whole floor to hear them, but she clearly didn’t care.

Finn’s thrusts became more erratic,“Fuck - Where do ya want it?”

“My mouth,”

He got off of her as she positioned her mouth right under him, he pumped his dick a couple of times before cum spilled out. Macy caught it all in her mouth, swallowing it in one gulp before licking his tip again.

They both laid down on the bed, trying to catch their breath.

“Took ya long enough, asshole,” Macy said, shoving Finn’s shoulder.

“Ya didn’t exactly make it easy,” Finn defended.

“Yeah fucking right I didn’t. It’s time to wake up, Finn,” Macy said, hitting his arm. Finn squinted his eyes in confusion. “Wake the fuck up!”

Finn jerked awake, sitting straight up. He looked around the room, which was illuminated by the light shining through the curtain. He was breathing heavily, his face was on fire. He wiped the beads of sweat off of his forehead as he tried to calm himself down.

He laid back down, catching his breath. His eyes wide as it finally set in.

He just had a dream about fucking Macy McMahon.

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[kittae]

Sleepy, Needy, Greedy (M)

⤞ When a simple case of morning wood proves to be much more difficult to get rid of than anticipated!

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Jackson x reader

Genre: just plain smut, you have been warned!

Word count: 4.7k

Warnings: rated M, graphic sexual descriptions

A/N: okay wow this took me FOREVER to finish but here it is, at last! I hope you’ll enjoy reading it as much as i did writing it ;)

5am had already passed, the first rays of sunlight shyly started to beam through your window and the soft swell in the thin and transparant curtains. They danced on your floor and sheets, occasionally throwing a soft gleam on your face. But that wasn’t the reason your eyes slowly started fluttering open, gently pulling you out of your deep slumber and getting used to the blurry sight of your bedroom.

No, the reason why you'd slipped out of your dream was because you felt like you had tumbled into another one. Soft lips ghosting over your ear and neck, gentle fingers squeezing into your hip and brushing over your waist, but most of all, something very distinct and hard digging into your lower back. That could only mean one thing.

“Jackson…” you faintly croaked out, your voice still heavy with sleep and balancing on the edge between a whimper and a whine.

You felt that same pair of lips turning to peck soft kisses on your neck, nipping at the small spot beneath your ear before the tip of a nose soothed the slight red mark they left behind, your head automatically tilting towards the opposite side to grant them better access as you quietly mewled at the entrancing feeling, a ticklish sensation stirring in your stomach and goosebumps scattering all over your skin.

“You smell so good…” a voice you knew like the back of your hand, laced with want and undeniable adoration in an airy moan, sounded from behind you, muffled into the nape of your neck as two strong arms pulled you closer in a tight embrace with your back against a hot, broad chest.

A spark of excitement briefly shot through your still benumbed body at the sound, aiming straight south and making you shiver lightly, taking you aback when all you could do was gasp as those very lips found the sensitive area beneath your ear again, the gentle kiss swiftly growing harsher when they started sucking until hues of red and purple shallowly surfaced.

You accepted the lightheadedness, not sure if you were still just half asleep or getting really affected by your boyfriend’s soft lips working their way around your tingling skin.

“Mmm…So early…” you murmured as a way of scolding him for waking you up so early in the morning, but quite sure it missed its effect by the way your voice gave away the obvious pleasure you were getting out of his ministrations.

You felt him smile against your neck as his hand moved from your waist to descend further south until it was squeezed inbetween your legs and his fingers started kneading the inside of your naked thigh, softly pinching your flesh and making you jerk up in suprise.

“Sorry, baby…Morning wood has no curfew,” he emphasized his neediness by lightly grinding his hips against your ass, a soft groan escaping his lips when his bulging erection touched your soft buttcheecks, biting his bottom lip as he squeezed your thigh once more, “So fucking hard, baby…”

You were heating up, the temperature rising at a ridiculously fast rate when his hand slid further up your inner thigh until it was resting against your hot center, his fingers brushing over the thin fabric of your panties every time he massaged your flesh as it sent sparks of electricity through your entire core. He certainly made it hard to ignore him and go back to sleep.

“So fucking sleepy, baby,” you echoed, playfully pushing your ass back against his crotch and hearing him groan in your ear in response, a smile appearing on your lips.

He whined pitifully, feeling him pout against your cheek as he cupped your heat with his hand in an attempt to win you over, persuading you with gentle kisses on your jaw.

“You don’t have to do anything, i promise…Just spread your legs a little? Please? I’ll do all the work...” he started bargaining, the desperation in his voice slightly rising, his arousal straining against your ass and through his sweatpants while he tried his best not to furiously dryhump you and the tips of his fingers drew mindless patterns into the fabric that kept his skin from touching yours.

Trying really hard not to let a moan slip from your lips, you tightly pressed them together in a smile before steadying your voice, "What are you offering?"

Despite your hard-to-get attitude, you couldn’t deny how you felt yourself starting to throb between your legs, your panties already damp from just a bit of friction and his needy words, his heavy breathing against your skin. When you hissed in pleasure as he ran a single finger over your clothed slit, having you melt into his touch, you knew he knew it too.

“Everything,” he answered simply, the huskiness in his deep morning voice translating into a delicious shiver surging down your spine and straight to your core. Great, another language he proved to be fluent in.

You bit your lip so you wouldn’t full out grin from ear to ear like some kind of idiot, but angled your body further into his regardless. He wasn’t lying in any case, he was so hard it made your mouth water and your throat dry all the same. His erection felt like a solid rock, making it impossible to think about anything else than having it buried deep inside of you and how good he could make you feel with it. You'd just wanted to sleep in on a sunday morning, but all hopes of going back to sleep were pretty much thrown out of the window by now.

“I’m gonna need some deets, boy,” your voice airy as you sighed the words out, rocking your hips back once more to get the desired effect of a low groan from the back of his throat, before he lightly chuckled and caged you inside his tight embrace, the movements of his hips growing bolder at your playfulness.

“Look at you, just barely awake and already trying to get some dirty talk out of your poor, innocent boyfriend…Aren't you a naughty girl?”

“How can you call yourself innocent with your hand squeezed inbetween my legs and your dick grinding against my ass?” you retorted, though you couldn’t hide the smile in your voice.

“Look, i tried to have a civilized conversation with it, but it proved to be very persistent,” he sighed out as if he was a man at the end of his rope.

“Oh, is that right? Persistent, huh?”

“Yeah…Maybe you can talk to it, it might listen to you.”

You couldn’t believe you were having this conversation at barely six in the morning, but then again, with Jackson as your significant other, did you really expect anything else? It took every little ounce of your strength not to just burst out in laughter.

“I don’t know, baby, it’s being pretty rude right now…”

“I know, right? No manners at all, you should really teach it a lesson,” his voice still flirty but strained as he added some force to his words by grinding his hips extra hard, a moan tumbling from his lips before he could help himself.

Your soft giggles quickly got silenced when you gasped as your boyfriend’s hand finally snaked into your thin underwear, his fingers gently pinching your naked clit and nearly having you moan out in pleasure, but you wouldn’t give yourself away that easily. Not yet.

You tried to play the game a bit longer, even though his digits circling your sensitive nub got you melting into the mattress, your breathing stealthily getting shallower by the second as you chuckled, ‘And how would i go about doing that?’

“You’re always so good with your mouth, i’m sure you’ll come up with something to catch its attention…” he quipped, awfully pleased with himself.

That little shit.

“Well…It already looks like it’s at full attention to me,” you wanted to laugh but the heat building up in the pit of your stomach keeping you from doing so, overthrowing anything other than the pleasure surging through your body, small and stifled whimpers pushed back in your throat and aching to be heard.

“If you’re gonna be mouthy like that, at least let me benefit from it.”

“Maybe you should stop talking about your dick and start using it.”

He chuckled into your ear, a slightly sharper pinch around your clit coaxing a high pitched yelp out of you, your hips rocking back to escape his fingers that caused a short but intense electric shock to surge through your nerves.

Peppering kisses along your neck again, he whispered, “What if i do both?”

“Even better.”

The words hadn't even passed your curled up lips and his fingers were already hooked around the waistband of your panties, slowly dragging them down. You'd think he was teasing you if you didn't know any better. He was too hot-headed, too eager. And you loved every tiny bit of it.

“Love your thighs so much, baby...Wanna feel them squeeze around me,” he murmured through lazy pecks on your neck, his other hand slipping underneath your top to cup your breast, feeling him snuggle even closer against you to envelop himself inside your warmth. Your skin was radiating heat, even more so when he kept caressing you like this.

“Use them,” Your breathing got heavier with every roll of his fingers around your stiffened nipple, every gentle stroke over your bare sex as your soaked through underwear hung loosely around your thighs, pressing them together tightly as you desperately sought some much needed friction, “Jackson, please...”

He wasted no time tearing the nightstand drawer open to hastily fumble around and find the small bottle of lube inside, squirting a generous amount into his hands he frantically rubbed together to make sure it wasn't too cold before he curled them around his throbbing shaft, hissing at the sensitivity when he carefully spread the liquid around his skin to make it nice and slick.

“Fuck, it's been a while since we've done this...” he choked out when he tried to calm his body down so he wouldn't blow his load right then and there, just from sheer excitement.

You could feel your heart pound in your throat when he positioned himself back behind you, one hand curling around your thigh and slightly raising it while the other came from the opposite side to find its way back to your dripping heat. You felt something hard and wet sliding inbetween your thighs and you automatically flexed them, successfully creating a delicious tightness around his girth that had him tensing up against you in response, his fingers toying with your little nub as he tried to adjust to all kinds of enticing sensations surging through his body.

“So tight...Oh god...” you felt him pant into the nape of your neck, a sheen of sweat already coating his forehead and dampening the strands of hair that sticked to his hot skin.

He slowly started thrusting, the large amount of lubrication making it very easy for him to slide back and forth as your thighs enveloped his length in all the best ways and your wet folds brushed over it, adding more delicious friction than he could possibly handle. As he religiously kept stimulating your clit, you felt the tension build in your stomach as well, your arousal trickling down and directly coating his dick in your juices as it brushed through your lower lips.

The movements of his fingers went frenetic on your by now overly sensitive bundle of nerves, the pressure on the perfect spots and the speed having stars explode behind your eyelids while your mind went blank as he snapped his hips back and forth. Countless whimpers and whines tumbled from his lips while his fingers around your thigh dug into your flesh when he neared his release, fingernails leaving crescents behind on your skin, but it only heightened the pleasure you already received from hearing your man getting himself off between your thighs and his hand doing wondrous things to your little nub.

“C-close!” he breathed heavily against your skin, lightly biting your shoulder as he desperately tried to keep his moans to a limit but failed terribly, and his hips picked up speed until skin slapping on skin subdued all other sounds in the room, the fire that was climbing up from your core to your stomach blazing hot as you heard him pant wildly, chasing his much needed climax with all the energy he could muster.

“Not-not yet, Jackson! Wait!” you begged him when you could feel the muscles in your thigh starting to get sore from keeping them tight, but the heat building up in the pit of your stomach drew out the discomfort as you equally as desperately sought your own release that was looming around the corner, your toes already curling and your back arching. You could easily come with him if he'd hold on for just a few more seconds-

“I c-can't! I'm coming, i'm so- i'm sor-” he gasped and shuddered when his thrusts slowed down and his grip around your thigh tightened almost painfully when he couldn't hold back any longer, spurting load after load of his hot release all over your thighs and the sheets and his hand as he let out a strained groan, “Fuck!”

You were breathing superficially, the pheromones still running through your body at full speed and your arousal still dripping from your now neglected slit. But not for long.

With his head still spinning from the explosive orgasm and the blood rapidly rushing back up, he shifted behind you to lay you on your back, get on top of you and start kissing your neck again, his chest also still heaving violently to catch his breath while he did.

“Jackson, you should- y-you should rest for a sec, you're-” you stuttered inbetween gasps and mewls when he ignored your words and continued his mouth's journey down your body, stopping to nip at your perky nipples to lave his tongue around them before going further south.

He massaged the insides of your thighs again, knowing how straining it must've been to keep them flexed for him the whole time and trying to soothe your sore muscles before kissing his way up there as well, only positioning them on top of his shoulders when he'd reached the place you needed his mouth the most right now. The way his eyes gazed up at you from underneath had you momentarily forgetting what breathing was, a fiery blush spreading across your cheeks when you saw the look in his eyes darken and making you salivate.

“You're so beautiful,” he murmured, letting his eyes flutter closed as his lips softly ghosted over your soaking center before snapping them back up to watch you purse your lips together in anticipation, your hands gripping the sheets beside you to try and release some of the tension building up inside your body until he added a greasy wink when he whispered, “Relax for me, baby...Let me take care of you now.”

He dove right in, wasting no time on teasing while your body was still running on your previous build-up he was determined to make use of. The fire that had slowly started to sizzle out flared back up the moment his lips molded themselves into your lower ones, his tongue curling around your little nub where his fingers previously had rubbed so vigorously. He didn't start slow and delicate like he normally does, as he was determined to pick up where he'd left off to make you come as fast and as hard as possible.

It certainly helped that he knew all the right buttons to push, having spent countless hours between your legs to explore everything you did and didn't like. The way he knew which specific spot to put pressure on with his tongue, which particular angle he should curl his fingers up inside of you and how the combination of both could make you fall apart underneath him in mere seconds. And it looked like he was about to succeed yet again.

“Oh, fuck! Jackson!” you couldn't help but loudly squeak out when two of his fingers easily slid between your folds to prod at your sweet spot right away, your hands flying into his hair to tightly grip onto it. He sure wasn't beating around the bush this time.

He moaned against your core, the delightful shots of slight pain shooting through his scalp only motivating him further as he felt himself getting hard all over again. His fingers kept a steady rhythm while they massaged your inner walls, hitting all the right places without missing a beat while his tongue slaved away to keep stimulating your hypersensitive clit. You sure weren't going to last long either this time.

A string of moans and curses cascaded from your lips when you couldn't help but grind yourself against his mouth, your hips desperately chasing your release as you tugged on his hair even harder the closer you got, which did not go unnoticed.

There was a brief second you didn't know what was going on when you got lifted up in the air for a second, until you saw your boyfriend's face peeking out from between your legs underneath  you, but this time he was the one lying on his back.

“Ride my face, baby, hurry,” he panted before pulling you down by your hips until your nub sat snugly on his mouth so he could start sucking again.

His tongue focused on tantalizing your poor clit that could barely keep up with the never ending supply of electrifying sensations, every nerve in your body feeling like they were getting fried with pleasure and you didn't know whether you wanted to pull away in oversensitivity or violently ride his face until you exploded.

Your body chose for you when your hips rolled over his face,the cue for Jackson to keep his tongue flat for you to use it as you pleased as you angled your body to control the right pressure at the right places. You grabbed onto his hair once more, knowing the effect it has on him and sure enough, his fingers dug into your hips so hard you were positive they'd leave bruises soon. You loved how you could rile him up so far he couldn't control himself, and vice versa.

“Jackson, i'm- i'm so c-close!” you whimpered helplessly, grinding your clit against his tongue even harder to make this ridiculous tension that had built into the pit of your stomach finally snap as he helped you by moaning with you, sending vibrations to surge through your nerves as well until your eyelids fluttered closed as you held your breath. Your head was thrown back and your back arched when your hips stopped grinding back and forth while the heat rapidly shot through your trembling body, up to your cheeks, burning hot and red as your mouth fell open in a strangled cry.

He dutifully helped you riding out your intense orgasm by slowly, softly licking you through it and having you shudder in overstimulation. He hummed at your taste, one he couldn't get enough of and that was so deliciously, distinctively you.

You pulled away after an undefined period of pure bliss, right when the pleasure started to turn almost painful, and shuffled back down to let your utterly relaxed and temporarily exhausted body rest on top of him.

“I'm so sweaty,” he chuckled into your hair before placing a kiss on the crest of your head and joining you in catching your breath.

“Me too,” you smiled, still basking in afterglow as he caressed your back, his fingertips gently brushing over your damp skin.

“Let's get cleaned up?” he proposed, playfully pinching your shoulder and making you jerk up in surprise, giggling. until you noticed something hard poking on the inside of your thigh again.

“You mean 'how about round two in the shower?', don't you?” you retorted, watching him through slitted eyes in suspicion and making him dramatically gasp in indignation.

“Well, i would never! But now you mention it...”

You rolled your eyes at his feigned innocence once again, but you couldn't deny it was one of the very reasons you loved him so much.

“You're so greedy!” you chuckled as you ruffled his already tousled hair, him smiling up at you while wrapping his arms around your body, slowly pushing up the Tshirt you were still wearing.

“Nah...Just really needy...” he added softly while pulling you into a compelling kiss, his fingers still playing with the hem of your shirt when his lips touched yours, the taste of your release still slightly lingering on the pink skin when he slipped his tongue past yours.

It was almost embarrassing how easily he could ignite a spark in your chest as well as between your legs, even after you'd only just had an explosive orgasm. His need started to rub off on you and you found yourself wanting more just as much as he did. Especially with how perfectly his lips fit on yours while your tongues wrapped themselves around eachother and your hands started groping any part of your bodies they could find.

Small whines and whimpers started rolling off both your entangled tongues once again, and Jackson couldn't wait any longer to grab you by the back of your thighs and sit up, having you wrap your legs around his waist before he carried you to the bathroom, you lips never losing contact as you continued to devour eachother.

He carefully sat you down on the countertop, briefly disconnecting your lips to pull the shirt over your head before hungrily seeking your kisses again. As you got back down on your feet, you both shuffled your way into the shower cabine, still refusing to let go of each other's lips until the hot water was streaming down your naked bodies.

Jackson was the first one to hesitantly pull away, gently backing you against the cold tiles of the wall. The frigid stones against your back felt nice in contrast with your burning body, the way he looked at you with so much adoration and lust in his eyes making it harder to breathe, especially when he cupped your face in his hands so you'd be focused on his piercing gaze, wet strands of hair randomly sticking out in every direction after he'd roughly brushed it back.

“I love you so fucking much,” he said slowly, but resolute. No hint of playfulness or jokes to be found in the dark chocolate of his eyes, only pure determination. He didn't just want you to know, he wanted you to feel it.

You were just about ready to melt into a puddle, but managed to whisper out that you loved him too before his lips crashed on yours again. Your hands slid up and down his toned torso, your fingers feeling up his defined pecs and down to his abs, where you stopped to play with the happy trail that ran right above his newly revived erection. You didn't hesitate to wrap your hand around the base, slowly curling your fingers around his slick skin and running your thumb over his leaking head. He sharply sucked in a gasp at your bold action, hanging his head down and seeking support by placing his hand next to your head on the wall and resting his forehead against your own as he steadied his breathing when you quickened your pace around his length.

“Babe, slow down,”' he chuckled inbetween gasps and adorable whimpers as he screwed his eyes shut in an attempt to somehow process all those overwhelmingly pleasurable sparks surging through his nerves better, 'I'm going crazy here!'

You couldn't take your eyes off of the way his eyelashes fluttered like a butterfly's wings, the way his jaw slacked when his lips fell open into silent, or not so silent, moans, how radiant his golden skin was and how utterly ethereal he looked with droplets gathering at the ends of his dark hair and streaming down his cheeks and lips. He was so handsome you could cry.

“Jackson...” you breathed, your hand letting him go to wrap your arms around his waist and pull him closer until you were skin on skin, your lips brushing over his neck, “I need you.”

He certainly didn't need to be told twice. The moment the words left your lips, your leg was hoisted up on his hip and his tip was positioned at your center before he slowly started to push further, letting your tight walls suck him in inch by inch as he clenched his teeth together in restraint so he wouldn't plunge himself balls deep in one well-aimed thrust.

The angle wasn't ideal, but you couldn't care about that when you felt how he filled you up so good as he was sheathed so perfectly inside of you.

“F-fuck, baby...”, he whimpered and pulled you closer to him as he waited for you to adjust to his size so he could start moving.

You needed a few deep breaths before you nodded, giving him the signal it was okay to continue. He started off with slow and leisure movements, gently swaying his hips back and forth a little, and gradually picking up speed when you started moaning until he was driving himself into you at a frantic speed, your leg getting pulled up higher and higher as he kept thrusting deeper until your eyes rolled back in pure ecstasy. He brought his hand between your bodies to find your little bundle of nerves back, letting it roll between two of his fingers and making you cry out when it added just what you needed on top of the blissful feeling of his length thrusting up into you and stretching your walls.

“D-don't stop, Jackson, i'm- i'm gonna-!” you moaned desperately, your fingers digging into the muscles of his shoulders as the tight knot in the pit of your stomach threatened to snap at any given moment as you felt the heat consume every fiber in your body.

“It's okay, baby, l-let it go!” he encouraged you, peppering your face with hot kisses and with a last pinch around your clit, had you coming undone in his hands.

He held you tightly as he kissed you while you were falling apart, your limbs might as well have been pudding when he kept rubbing your little nub until you properly rode it out, your whimpers and cries muffled by his lips when he eagerly swallowed down the sinful sounds that rolled of yours.

Picking you up before letting himself slide down the wall, he sat himself down to have you sit in his lap, allowing you to transform into a sac of potatoes as you caught your breath in his arms, pecking soothing kisses on your face and shoulder until you'd come down from your second high that morning.

“You're so exhausting,” you whined, but couldn't suppress the grin spreading across your face in happiness and satisfaction.

“Yeah, i've heard that before,” he laughed before attacking your lips with his once more in a quick peck.

“I'm the only one who finished, though,” you remarked, feeling how he was still hard underneath you and already reaching for it again, “Let me -”

“Shhh, easy, tiger,” a finger on your lips silencing you before you could utter another word, 'We have the whole day ahead of us. It's not even eight yet!'

You watched him wiggle his eyebrows in that suggestive manner and realized to both your horror and delight it was indeed only early in the morning, and by the way he looked at you, you knew he had a whole lot more in store for you.

“It's gonna be one of those days again, isn't it?” you sighed dramatically, but the corner of your lips curled up nevertheless.

“You bet your gorgeous, sweet ass it will!” he quipped, adding a playful spank on one of your buttcheeks to emphasize his words, 'Now, let's get cleaned up for real this time so we can have breakfast.'

“Cheater, you’ve already had breakfast,” you winked suggestively.

“It's okay, it was organic.”

[geraldinesnell]

5am thoughts in February 2017

**ADDENDUM; pervaded by sneering inner voice of depression, hyper-aware of my privilege, just trying to exorcise some of this internalised authority/capitalist bullshit and someone else might find it cathartic to read or identify with, perhaps, maybe, it’s worth it if so. ALSO there is a better way to DO we need to be aware and vigilant but not to the point of following the ins and outs of it all and burdening ourselves to the point of illness or debilitation, accept chaos but also accept that we CAN resist but we have to do it together and we have to be well**

Defeat << LOL don’t be so melodramatic you depressive shit! Easy for you to say, in any case.

Art?! What good is art right now? The stakes are too high. Step up, step out of the bubble. Echo chamber fuckin fuckheadz (see video below for comic relief); we’re all being played. Data streams and like-like enclaves have so much to answer for.

But then depression gives you a false sense of insight, AND doom!! That deep grief feeling is here anyway, whether the world is burning or not, find comfort in that, if nothing else…

You say to friends:

What can we do?

Thinking about number one, what if that money you managed to save up becomes worthless?

War time is a possibility in our lifetime! Imagine being a refugee!! THIS IS STILL HAPPENING IN 2017, just not to privileged complacent fuckheadz like us. *yet*

Is it a case of resisting or escaping? And what about those who aren’t able to escape?

And what if we can’t escape because the world is nuked?

You suppose if you care about all this then you’re not really depressed? Or the opposite; this degree of caring, this compulsion to burden and guilt-trip yourself with it is the epitome of some grand depressive strategy your brain has invented to fuck yourself over with even though you’re perfectly able and capable. There you go again - BRAIN! As if it’s limited to your brain and not your whole being ‘lol’.

Protests, when represented in the news, just become a soundbite; lefty luvvies with nothing better to do causing a nuisance disrupting shit with their social justice crusades. ‘Suddenly everyone is an expert on politics’ TROLLFACE.

ARGH

IS there a plan? Are far right religious nuts in government actually religious or do they just know that the ONLY way to get people behind them enough for them to do whatever they want in terms of handing the whole state over to corporate / capital interests is to drum up this war of ideologies Christian crusade / general extreme divide and rule bullshit? Like, is Steve Bannon actually a Christian? Does Donald Trump actually think women shouldn’t be able to have abortions? Of course not!!! It’s likely he’s paid for many fuckin abortions for women he’s knocked up (I don’t even want to think about this). It’s likely maybe that one of his daughters has had an abortion. They will all indulge in ultimate ‘vices’ (WHY THESE STUPID MORAL STANDARDS IT’S 2017 FFS!!!!) behind closed doors, putting on the respectable stiff suited righteous-pious WHITE-SUPREMACIST MISOGYNIST public persona. This is all about rich white dudes cementing their rule of the world, and creating and exploiting religious fervour is really the only way to gain ultimate control.

Maybe the middle ground wasn’t so bad after all…

Can’t there be a way to divide and rule which isn’t so extreme, so white-supremacist patriarchal bullshit?

Although Joe Stillwater made an astute point about America and white priv: ‘The culture of “the flaying of backs; the chaining of limbs; the strangling of dissidents; the destruction of families; the rape of mothers; the sale of children" (Ta-Nehisi Coates) still sits beneath this place. It's not gone, only just rearing its head again. We thought that maybe it's gone, or at least, those of us who aren't black. Those of us that are black know that shit isn't true. Time for those of us that aren't black to look harder at that nasty turd of deep cast racism (now embodied by a tangerine), and ask yourself where that beast lives within you, and if you can eradicate it now that it lives again in the light.’

Some will read this and think, “what is she on about, that’s America. We’re Britain, it’s not even our concern or fight.” (Never mind our government’s complicity and the indications that we’re going the same way, never mind their current policies and strategies of divide and rule) Those that don’t see the bigger picture…

You console yourself by looking at this chart; at this particular bigger picture. But humanity is showing no signs of pressing pause, of consciously re-evaluating its (lack of) purpose and strategically bringing about the fluid mode. You think this chart is very optimistic. You think of all those conversations among similarly-educated friends and peers about the world and how it’s lovely that you are all so optimistic and utopian in your thinking. Like, it’s 2017! Let’s all get our shit together, press pause and plan out how this can play out in a way that benefits everyone, not just the elite. How sweet!

You’ve gotta block it out, you’ve gotta save your spoons. you’ve gotta just take it one day at a time and not weigh yourself down with all this, because you’re no good to the cause if you’re ill-ill.

“Just don’t think about it.”

“Capitalism has won”

“You can only do your bit”

“You’re fuckin deluded, it’s not your job to save the world, stop reading articles!!”

“There’s every indication that the world is descending into fascism, that the elite are turning everyone against each in order to stabilise their hegemony. But it’s happened before, we’ve been relatively lucky so far in our lifetimes. But there’s nothing you can do about it on your own, and there’s nothing you can do if you’re ill”

World is a fuck and it doesn’t owe you SHIT

You say --- what about the Dadaists, didn’t they all go to Zurich and sit in cafes acknowledging and exploring the utter fuckin absurdity of it all, albeit whilst adopting equally daft nihilist stances, but, can’t we all just escape? --- YEAH BUT THEY mostly all FOUGHT IN WORLD WAR 1, AND THEN THEY SAID FUCK THIS SHIT, YOU GOT YOUR PRIORITIES WRONG, WORLD, FUCK YOUR IMPERIAL MONEY-DRIVEN WAR THAT YOU SHROUD WITH NATIONALISM TO JUSTIFY SENDING A WHOLE GENERATION OF MEN TO AN EARLY GRAVE in the trenches of France --- yeah but we don’t have to fight a hollow, horrific war to know that it’s absurd and not the answer! We already know there is no answer, but that we need to proactively structure the world with that in mind, in a way that distributes wealth fairly!

“Fuck the world before it fucks you”

“Life isn’t fair”

The world is a hostile place, but you knew that already because you’re aware. People say: is it really that much worse? All this shit was going on anyway, it was just covert, systematic, embedded, institutionalised, the ‘DEEP STATE’. But it is worse, it’s tangibly worse for many real fuckin people who are being continuously dehumanised and scapegoated at best, abused, deported or worse at worst.

Maybe you should get laser eye surgery for the ‘pok-ee-lipz

Maybe you should go to sleep (oh wait, you did, you switched off at 5pm after accomplishing work and avoiding the news, you got pissed and  did a bit of shaking and you sang your songs and made time for yourself and drew without it having to be ‘work’. Then you woke up at 4am with your mind racing, and you tried to sleep, but you knew you had to come and write. Now you’re here. Go back to bed, rest, be well. You’re no good to anyone when you’re ill.