#something I felt like writing

[paradox-n-bedrock]

me in big fandoms: oh cool, it's so active and there's so many people to vibe with, this is amaz-

*finds my niche angle that appeals to approximately six people*

me: okay, folks, it's you and me now

[astearisms]

fionna and cake drawings before and after watching the episodes so far. it’s nostalgic and somehow cathartic and poignant and relatable and—it just started

[mipexch]

[royalarchivist]

Ramon: So opinions on [Bagi]?

Fit: She's legit, we can trust her. We can trust her.

Ramon: Would you rather a dad or a mom [for me?]

Fit: Uh- I- no one! No one. Let's- let's get over to Felps' Square, Ramon. [They head to the warp at Spawn, then Fit hesitates] Um, wait- Ramon. [He pauses, briefly looks at the camera, then says in a rush] If I had to choose between the two, it'd be a dad. Alright, let's go. Let's go, let's go.

[erwinsvow]

an idea… rafe and shy reader having sex for the first time

everything's overwhelming with rafe, but this is particularly so. you thought you were completely ready for it, from the way you had handled everything else so well. in fact, rafe was the one taking things at the slowest pace possible, trying to make sure he didn’t pressure you into something you weren’t ready for.

you didn’t like it—thought he was trying to be something he’s not. he’s gentle with you but never like this, never to this extent. it must be a big deal then, sleeping with rafe, giving him your virginity, you finally decide, if he’s acting so differently about it.

in fact, you think you’ve been ready to give it up since you first started dating him. rafe brings it out of you, coaxes a different side of you out with gentle words and soft touches. you’re going mad over it. you can’t count the amount of times you’ve crawled into his lap at any given opportunity, anywhere the two of you are alone—his truck, the couch in your living room and at tannyhill, the hidden booth at the country club. you’re begging for it, not sure how much more obvious you can get.

you finally decide tonight’s the night—following a nice dinner with the two of you. you had spent extra long getting dressed up, a pretty white lingerie set on underneath your blue dress, all done up for rafe. finally back at tannyhill, entire body vibrating and tingling with excitement, you don’t wait another moment, crawling into rafe’s lap and kissing him hard. you take off your dress and rafe stops just for a second to take in how forward you’re being.

“hey,” he finally breathes against your lips, pulling away. “c’mon, you’re not ready for this.” 

“yes i am!” you whine, impatient and horny, feeling rafe get hard underneath you. you want him to be able to do all the things you know he wants to do, want them done to you. “i am, i am-” and you lean back to kiss him, ending up pinned underneath him before long.

he knows you’re not, but he plays along. you’re so wet already he doesn’t have to do much, but he makes you cum all over his fingers anyways, hoping it’ll satiate you.

“please, rafe,” you moan against his mouth, pushing in for another needy kiss. “wan’ it inside. please.” and he does know you, knows everything about you, but even he can’t resist when you say things like that.

you watch with big eyes while he lines himself up with your wet hole, hovering over you. you think you’re so ready, that three of rafe’s fingers inside you should be comparable to what you’re about to feel, that you’re more than prepared. your eyes squeeze shut when rafe pushes inside, all the air leaving your lungs. you try to moan out but it’s more of a gasp than anything else, one that rafe swallows into a kiss. 

your eyes get watery—it’s just habit. it hurts, too, because rafe is so much bigger than you expected. you bite your cheek, looking up at rafe through teary eyes and clasping a hand over your mouth—you don’t want to admit that he was right. 

“c’mon kid, give it up. y’not ready for this, i know you,” rafe says, leaning in close to your ear to whisper it quietly. he’s not even half-way inside you.

“i-i can take it,” you hiccup. you hate disappointing rafe.

and it’s not that he doesn’t want to—he does, desperately so, wants to fuck you within an inch of your sanity every time you walk into a room and look at him with your shy eyes and sweet smile. he wants to break you, wants you cumming on his dick until there’s nothing left in your head, no shyness left in your heart. but he wants it when you’re ready for it, not like this.

it only takes another minute, you finally admit you’re not ready, and rafe pulls out of you. you feel like crying, terribly sad and dejected, wishing you could just be normal for rafe for once, be what he wants. 

“stop,” he says, wiping away a stray tear. his arm rests over your stomach, trying to get you to lighten up. “when you’re ready for it, i’ll fuck you until you can’t think. s’just not today, kid.”

you finally agree when he says that, getting over it because you know without a doubt in your mind—rafe knows you better than you know yourself.

[obsidianbit]

I love this gay ass show with its literally life ending injuries that heal immediately, but only when convenient to the plot, and its ridiculous use of modern phrases, and its laughing in the face of historical accuracy, and its kissing the face of the fans instead of trying to outwit them, and the way everyone involved in the show seem to go 'I KNOW RIGHT! I'M EXCITED TOO!' instead of mocking the fans

[teddybeartoji]

it's not often you get to see a sleepy suguru.

it's not like he's not tired – he's fucking exhausted; the dreams just don't seem to like him all that much. but he's usually toughing it out, trying to seem as composed and put-together as possible. the dark skin underneath his eyes betray him, though.

so you don't really know why today is different. is he just more tired? have all of the sleepless hours caught up with him? or is it just you; could it be that your body is the most comfortable place to rest his heavy head? or is it your perfume that's soothing him to sleep?

or is it the fingers in his hair?

he doesn't really let others play with his hair too ofter either. satoru and shoko had been the only exceptions but that was before you came along. satoru uses his hair as a stim, something to play with when he's bored. suguru has taught him manners though – a few slaps against satoru's fingers and chest to remind him to be more careful. and shoko is just more likely to brush a strand from his eyes or help him tie them up in a half-assed bun whenever his own hands are full with whatever.

you like playing with hair, always have and always will. it's relaxing and it's fun and it's calming and you love it. when you first met suguru, his hair was the second thing you noticed about him (his keen purple eyes being the first). an irresistible itch burned in your fingertips everytime you saw him, everytime he wore his hair down. it just looked so pretty and soft.

he takes very good care of his hair, you know that much. specific shampoos and conditioners, masks and all – he's all in. and nobody bats an eye. not that they should but satoru definitely gets made fun of because of his stupidly expensive collection of figurines and shoko gets teased for her silly mug shelf – and yet, neither of them ever comment on the bottles and tubs of fancy products that lay on his bathroom counter.

his hair also smells good. the compliment always hangs on the tip of your tongue but stays hidden in fear of coming off too weird. too creepy. but he doesn smell good. even with closed eyes and ears and you'd find him in a crowd. you wonder whether he knows that.

as you grew closer and closer, the now scorching itch only doubled in need. you never did gather the strenght to outwardly ask him – if you could play with his hair? if you could caress it? comb through it? it was an accident.

a simple gloomy friday afternoon: you're both lazing on your couch, staring at the screen. it's funny – you find yourself muffling your already quiet bursts of laughter, suguru alongside you. he's sitting close by, closer than usual. you don't ask him about it.

he asked to come over; something-something about being sick of his own apartment. you understand that, so you tell him that your home is his home (you'd tell him that even if you didn't understand). you hear the faint smile when he thanks you over the phone.

even when he looks like he hasn't slept in months – he looks good. you can tell he's overexaggerating his smile a bit but don't say anything about it, rewarding him with a grin of your own. his eyes flick to your lips and how they curve and he thinks about how warm it feels to look at you. maybe he's not exaggerating anymore.

your arms open wide, inviting him into you and he obliges, as always. he smells good. as always.

his hands lock behind your back and your behind his neck. your hearts meet and they greet each other with a fastened beat, eager to be in sync – to feel each other again.

he pulls back and the corners of his eyes crinkle when he smiles. he's not doing it anymore and you're happy to relieve him even if it's for mere moments.

he's wearing a sweather and his hair is down. he has lip gloss on; you try to think whether he's more of a mint guy or more of a shea guy. it remains a mystery.

and now you're on the couch with two cups of warm tea waiting for you on the small table. he smells good. he's so close. he snickers at the screen and you can't take your eyes off of him. it's the same small crinkle of the eyes and the faintest pink tint on his cheeks.

you know he knows that you're looking at him. you've been told to have a staring problem and he's just an observant guy. it's a terrible match. or a perfect one.

he doesn't say anything though; instead he leans his head back and little to the side against the headrest (he's even closer now) and you find yourself shifting an inch aswell. perhaps magnets are involved? the iron in your blood pulling you together?

no, that can't be. you'd have to be polar opposites for that to work. warm-blooded and cold-blooded? would that work? you're getting too poetic and he's looking at you now.

it's an accident. it slips out on its own. you smell good. caught off guard by your own comment, you're about to apologize when a hand on your thigh almost makes you suffocate on the words stuck in your throat.

he laughs and it feels so good. he thanks you. he means it, you see it in his tired eyes. he likes the way you blush.

turning his focus back to the tv, you try to collect yourself. a deep breath in and a deep one out and a deep one in and a de—

a weight on your shoulder. he smells so good. he's so close. you peek down, curious as to whether this is a dream or not. but suguru's head is in fact laid on your body, sinking a bit more into you by the second. a deep breath in and a deep one out.

seeking for a more comfortable position, you snuggle closer to him. it's hard to focus but you're making it your sole mission to make him feel safe. your arm curls around his body, his shoulder, and rests right by a flock of his hair.

his cheek is now smushed against the top of your chest and the weight of love doesn't seem as bad as everyone keeps telling you. his hand finds a place around your waist; loosely – as if he's the one who's afraid to scare you off. silly.

his breath against you feels right and the butterflies in your stomach refuse to calm down. so you do what you always do when you get nervous – completely on their own, your fingers caress his hair. just smoothing over it at first but before you know it, they're combing through a strand and twirling the ends between themselves.

you wanna apologize, again, but the soft little grunt that emits from the man keeps you from doing so.

don't stop.

+ this is for @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat just bc it feels right

[stuckinapril]

I genuinely love not having a crush like I’m not over here feeling physically sick over some mid guy being dry to me I’m literally chilling

[egg-but-with-style]

Butcher ghost 2, electric boogalo

Tw: definitely ooc

1 2 3

You were panicking at the moment, standing outside his shops door. Holding day old chicken spadini in your hands. You threw in some fettuccine alfredo that you had made too.

You had texted him yesterday night, after you left your parents house, waiting until you got home to decide if you wanted to talk to him or not. Of course you did, he was handsome, or atleast his eyes looked handsome. Or maybe you just had a thing for guys with huge arms and a small penchant for violence.

When you had texted him, he seemed so dry. Only a couple word responses, then he told you to meet him inside his shop, said Tuesdays were always slow. In the back of your head, there was a little common sense. 'What if he's actually a serial killer? How do you know he isn't a creep?' which were questions you should've probably taken more seriously, but the knife and taser in your purse gave you reassurance.

You finally, having some courage, pulled open the door and went in. He seemed alot less focused today, like he was waiting for something. You watched his head snap up once the door closed, it letting out a slight creak.

He was surprised when you actually texted him, he was speechless when you agreed to come back to the shop, and now that it was all real, you standing in front of the counter, it made his jaw hit the floor.

He wasn't good at romance, or first impressions, or flirting. But he liked what he saw, he liked what he heard. He also might've stalked your socials after you told him your name over text. Only to check if you had a partner, definitely only that.

You saw him looked a little surprised, but the mask definitely blocked most of the facial expressions you would've seen, which he was thankful for. You spoke up, "Hi, Simon. I um.. bought the chicken..oh and I put some pasta in there too, figured chicken wasn't a balanced meal on its own and all that." You walked over to the counter and set down the Tupperware container. He spoke, his voice a little less rough today for some reason. "Mum used to tell me I couldn't just eat meat, now I run a butcher shop"

You let out a giggle. Your round cheeks becoming almost circles as you smiled. He felt his face heating up behind his mask, which was already so humid. He swore if he looked in a mirror now, he'd see his pupils being about the size of a saucer. He cleared his throat, trying not to feel embarrassed.

"It..it looks good though."

He hadn't eaten for the last 5 hours just because he wanted to be able to eat whatever you gave him. (Including dessert, if you catch my drift) Which you seemed to give him an ample portion, he was a big guy after all.

You thought he seemed a tiny bit nervous. Was it..you that was making him nervous? You shook off the idea, maybe he was just a little jumpy specifically on Tuesdays.

"Do..do you want to try some? I heated it up before I drove here. Even though you probably have a microwave.."

You realized maybe it was kind of a stupid idea to heat it up for him, but you had been so worried he might not have liked it. So you just wanted him to eat it as soon as possible. Not wanting to deal with the fear.

"No, no that's fine. I'd have to run all the way upstairs to my flat to heat it up anyway."

You watched him slowly open the container and pull up his mask just slightly to get the smell in. It seemed like his shoulders physically relaxed once he got a good sniff in. It was kinda cute.

"Do..do you want me to look away or?"

You weren't sure if the mask was just for protection, or if he just didn't like people seeing his face. He looked at you and seemed a little stunned that you asked. He slowly shook his head. "It's alright."

He hoped you wouldn't judge him because of his face, of all the scars, from acne and otherwise, not to mention the nose that had clearly been broken before, but when he pulled down the mask fully, you swore you were seeing something carved from marble.

His nose was crooked, a few scars lining the philtrum and the bridge. Then to his lips, the top one have a scar through the left side and slightly cleft because of it. His jaw and chin were just as impressive, being a bit soft, but still so pretty.

"You're beautiful.." you quickly covered your mouth, looking embarrassed for even saying that. "I..I'm so sorry! I didn't, I wasn't thinking.." Oh you were thinking, you were just thinking about how handsome he was.

That's when you saw his face turn a bit red. "Its..it's no problem. Don't worry about it" He looked away for a second, coughing and then looking back to you. Trying to play off the blush finding it's way to his ears.

He picked up a fork he brought down here specifically for the chicken you were bringing him. He felt kind of like a dork, but all that was forgotten when he took a bite of the chicken. He even let out a little groan. The seasoning, the flavor from the overnight marination in the sauces. He felt like he was in heaven, he looked like he was too.

Once he chewed and swallowed, he spoke up. "This is really fucking good." He really wanted to scarf it down right in front of you, but he already felt embarrassed and vulnerable enough, so he closed the container, to his own dismay. "I'll eat the rest of it once I close down shop. I..I wanted to ask you something"

You had been staring in awe at his reaction to your cooking, snapping out of it once he addressed you directly. You had a feeling what he was gonna ask, you just hoped you were right. "What did you wanna ask me?"

He blurted it out, hoping if he said it fast enough you'd just say yes. "Do you wanna go on a date with me?" Was it a little werid to ask the lady he just met yesterday out on a date? Yes. Yes it was. But he could care less. He knew he couldn't charm you the normal way, so it was a Hail Mary.

You heart fluttered a little, hearing the words come from his lips. "YES! I..I mean sure. Yeah, totally." You really didn't mean to yell but who gets the chance to go on a date with a beefcake like him everyday?

Your enthusiastic reply made his lips quirk up into a small smile. He was glad you were just as nervous, terrified, and frankly down bad as he was.

While you were indeed as taken as him as he was with you, you were still a woman and wanted to meet in a public place. You had some common sense left. "How does coffee on Saturday sound? Or..or tea if you don't like coffee.." He in fact did not like coffee. His smile got a little wider and he nodded. "Sounds like a date."

Authors note: In my au, I don't think ghost joined the military, but I do think he did some boxing in his teens and early 20s, definitely getting roughed up alot. I'm not sure if I'm happy with how I wrote this, so who knows I might rewrite it in the future.

I also wanted to thank you guys for 300 some notes on the first part of this! I'm really new to writing, and I'm glad you guys enjoy it as much as I enjoy making it. Also, I'm a dork and a goofy ghost believer, so deal! Thanks for reading, and I hope you liked it!

[deoidesign]

For my birthday... read my webcomic! It's literally free! (Unless you want books. Those are not free)

It's beautiful, it's gentle, it's funny, they're canonically t4t and gay... And it's about time traveling vampires solving supernatural mysteries!

I've spent thousands of hours writing and drawing it, and it's really good! I'm not biased!

It's on hiatus right now and coming back in 2 months, so it's the perfect time to get caught up

[cirnogaming]

artemis is one of the best characters ever created i think. she likes to feel like a cobb salad when shes having sex. she serves cunt at all hours of the day. shes bisexual. shes jewish. she's always serving a look. she is constantly on psychedelic drugs. she fucks nasty in the dumpster behind wendy's. shes perfect

[ladyy-whistle-d0wn]

EMBARRASSED

Billie x Non!experienced!fem!reader

Warnings: smut, squirting, vibrator play, pussy eating, nervous reader, apologizing

Summary: 🐱🍴

Billie was on her knees in the front of the bed, while you sat on the bed in front of her. She hooked her index finger around the waist of your tattered Jean shorts, looking up for confirmation to proceed. You nodded your head. Heat began to grow between your legs. She unbuttoned and unzipped your shorts. And you lifted up, shifting your wait onto your hands for her to pull down your shorts. She groaned removing your shorts revealing a lacy black thong with a little red bow in the front. "So pretty" she said rubbing her hands up your waist, and then running her finger over your covered pussy. She removed your thong slowly, you were radiating nervousness and billie picked that up. She looked you in your eyes "safe word is red, okay just say it when you want me to stop" you let out a quiet "okay" along with a nod. You layed back until your back met the mattress. Billie slowly kissed up your thighs and ran her tongue through your wet folds. A light shriek escaped your lips. She moved her lips over your clit and pushed one finger into your dripping hole "ah-fuck" you moaned as your thighs instinctively squeezed together on Billie's head. She quickly removed her finger from your pussy and grabbed your thighs firmly but not at all rough. She pulled your legs apart mumbling "keep 'em open your doing such a good job" through sloppy kisses on your high inner thigh. She reached under the bed for a box she opened it and revealed a vibrator "do you wa-" you cut her off with a "yes- please" Billie turned it on, putting it on medium speed. She slow and teasingly lowered it onto your clit and as soon as your heat met the silicone, you gasped a sharp "fuck" Billie held the vibrator against your clit as she began lapping your entrance. You felt an amazing wave of pleasure as your pussy started to clench. "Someone's close" Billie teased against your lips. You felt this new sensation creep up from your toes, your breath began to get ragged, moans getting louder and more gutural "b-bil" she looked up at your contorted face, never changing her pace "fu-uck I cant" you had this tingly feeling almost as if you were going to pee, but it couldn't be because you had used the bathroom before this. Your mind was swirling and you had forgotten the safe word "mm-billie i- fuuck" you muttered as she put the vibrator on the highest speed and started to circle it all over your clit "oh-mm fuuck fuck fuck" you shrieked, covering your face. You thought you had came but it was liquid? You had just squirted all over Billie's face. You moved your hands and seen her dripping face and immediately covered your face again apologizing "fuck I'm so so sorry, I didn't mean to-" you had never squirted before let alone on anyone's face. you have had many many embarrassing moments but this had taken the cake. Billie immediately turned off the vibrator and moved your hands to look you in your eyes "Hey hey hey it's okay don't worry about it, that's normal. I think you did a pretty good job, don't be embarrassed" she leaned up and kissed your jaw

Fic inspooo!! : https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTF6r5sC6/

[chrisbitchtree]

Robin was standing behind the counter at Family Video, complaining about the weather as she fanned herself with a pad of paper. Steve stood beside her, staring absently out the front window as she rambled on.

“…then it was 53° yesterday, with that crazy wind, and now today it’s 80°. I’m sweating my ass off because I have no clue how to dress! I’m sick of this. Aren’t you?”

Outwardly, Steve nodded in agreement as he picked up a stack of videos that needed to be returned to the shelves, but inwardly, he couldn’t say he was frustrated at all.

See, it was the middle of September, so it should have been consistently cooler by then. Along with the loss of summer weather, Steve had mourned the loss of Billy Hargrove’s tanned, muscled legs in shorts. But, with this up and down weather they’d been having, Steve was getting the best of both worlds, Billy in shorts some days, and others, his ass on display in the world’s tightest jeans.

Billy was a frequent presence at Family Video. Steve had no clue whether he frequented the shop before Steve and Robin started working there a few weeks back, but he can say that the other boy was there almost daily now.

As if on cue, the door to the shop opened, the bell above it jangling, and in sauntered Billy Hargrove, clad in a white t-shirt and cutoff denim shorts. They were way shorter than what was appropriate for school, but Steve definitely wasn’t complaining.

From inside his book bag, Billy produced two VHS tapes, and Steve looked over at Robin, expecting her to be at the cash to accept the return, but she was suspiciously absent from the front of the shop. He peeked into the back, but didn’t see here there either. Steve sighed, setting down the last few tapes he was holding and preparing himself for Billy’s teasing as he headed to the till.

“Hey Hargrove,” he said by way of greeting as he took the tapes from Billy’s hands, scanning the first one.

“Hey, pretty boy,” Billy replied. “I like your hair today. It’s even bigger and fluffier than usual. Was that for me?” A wolfish grin covered his face as he moved to touch it, but Steve swatted his hand away before he could.

Billy was right, Steve had taken extra time and care when doing his hair that day because he knew he’d most likely see the other boy at the shop, but he hated being called out on it, especially by Billy himself.

He wished he could just be left alone with his stupid crush until it fizzled out, but Billy kept feeding into it, and sometimes, late at night, Steve would be able to convince himself that Billy felt the same way about him, but by light of day, it was clear that he was just having a great time making Steve feel like an idiot in ways that he hadn’t been able to since Steve had graduated in May.

After Steve had processed the return, Billy took his time perusing the shelves, this time in the comedy section. With how frequently he was there, Steve figured he was going to run out of ones he wanted to watch soon, but he must have found some, because before long, he was heading back up to the front with two movies in hand.

Steve looked around for Robin, but of course she was still nowhere to be found. Where the fuck was she?

Steve scanned the new movies and told Billy his total. As Billy pulled out his wallet, he dropped it to the ground. “Oops”, he said, catching Steve’s eye for a second before turning around and bending over to grab it off the floor. For five blissful seconds, Steve had a perfect view of Billy’s ass. Sadly enough, that small window of time totally made his day.

Billy stood, paid, grabbed his movies and left, not saying anything else.

“You know he likes you too, right?” Robin asked, appearing out of thin air as the door closed behind Billy.

“Really?” Steve replied before he caught himself. “I mean, no he doesn’t. And what do you mean too? I don’t even like guys, let alone Billy Hargrove.”

Robin laughed. “First, sure, tell yourself you don’t have a massive crush on him, but I see the way you look at him, and the panic on your face every time he comes in here. You’re crushing hardcore. Second, all the teasing is just to get your attention, Dingus. He just wants to get to you, he doesn’t care how he has to do it. And those shorts, they’re not what he was wearing at school today. He changed into them just to come here. He’s down bad. So please do something about it before you drive yourself, Billy, and me insane.” With that, she grabbed a stack of returns and headed to the shelves.

Steve just stared after her, speechless. He was an expert at getting the girl, but something told him wooing Billy Hargrove was going to be a whole other ballgame. He sure hoped he was up for the challenge.

[babygirlwolverine]

cas had texted and said he’d be back at the bunker that night, and dean had stayed up until almost 3am waiting for the angel. when cas hadn’t walked through the bunker door, dean had to drag himself to bed before he passed out on the war table.

he didn’t sleep for long though, waking up just after 6am to check his phone. no messages from cas. was it too soon to start worrying?

making his way to the kitchen for a very strong cup of black coffee, dean shuffled past the bag in hallway while he rubbed blearily at his eyes. it took several long seconds before dean realized he’d almost tripped over cas’ overnight bag and he quickly backtracked and made a beeline for cas’ room.

the room was empty, no sign of cas’ current trenchcoat or of the angel anywhere.

frowning, dean wandered the hallways, searching for any signs of cas. but there was nothing. the bunker was quiet. empty. not even sam was awake yet.

convincing himself that the overnight bag had always been there and he’d just forgotten because he was tired, dean trudged back towards the kitchen by cutting through the library.

and he froze, mid-step.

slumped, lying curled up between two of the chairs at the table, was a sleeping angel using his trenchcoat as a pillow against the hard wooden seats.

a sleeping angel who was bundled up under dean’s old hoodie; the clothing item which usually held a permanent place in the backseat of the impala. the same hoodie that had gone missing a week ago.

dean’s heart stuttered in his chest.

his feet carried him gently across the library and he found himself reaching out and brushing a lock of hair off of cas’ forehead. the hood of the jacket was tucked up under cas’ chin, almost as if the angel had been burying his face in the cotton material, but the rest of it was slipping off and threatening to fall onto the floor.

breath catching in his throat, dean softly readjusted the hoodie and wrapped it around cas’ shoulders. cas let out a content sigh in his sleep, and dean suddenly felt weak in the knees.

cas had taken dean’s jacket with him when he’d left the bunker last week. and now, cas was using his hoodie as a blanket. a concept that years ago dean would’ve sworn up and down that cas would never understand because angels didn’t have feelings. yet, here cas was, carrying around dean’s old clothes, wearing his heart on dean’s worn sleeves.

smiling to himself, dean quietly made his way back to the kitchen to make honey tea for cas and a pot of coffee. he was going to need the caffeine courage to show cas that this was mutual.

as the coffee brewed and the tea steeped, dean snuck back into cas’ room and collected the one thing he was missing. wrapping one of cas’ old trenchcoats around his shoulders, dean was finally ready to put his own heart onto cas’ sleeve.

[positivelyadhd]

i've said it before and i'll say it again, i cannot express how helpful keeping a list of the activities, people and things that help you feel at peace can be for your healing.

when you're feeling disjointed take the list out, how long ago since you last had a conversation with someone that makes you feel loved, did your favourite hobby, made your favourite meal or drink, visited your favourite place, watched your favourite film or listened to your favourite song? how long ago since you last did something you truly love, simply for the joy of doing it?

[theinternetisfulloftrash]

Welcome Home

Pairing: Dylan O'Brien x Reader (Female) Synopsis: Traveling. Any annoying but necessary part of any actors job for the non-traveling party. But the welcome homes? They are oh so fucking sweet. Tags: it's filth with some cute plot, shower sex, kisses, more banter than is reasonable in polite society Rating: Explicit (obviously) Author’s Note: Y'all listen. I know. Okay. It's been a while, and to be honest? I started this in fucking January, but hey. It's here now, right? We're all chill? No one's upset? Good. LOVE YOU!

He’d been away for days, but it felt like weeks. Your feed has been covered in photos of him. The algorithms have you pretty much figured out. You’d been keeping up with his interviews, watching clips of his adorably awkward award acceptance speech. It wasn’t a surprise award, but it didn’t matter that he was prepared for it. He was incapable of being acknowledged for his achievements without turning into the equivalent of a turtle hiding in its shell. You’d have reached out to hold his hand and ground him if you could, but you’d been here. Alone. Missing him. But all that was soon to change.

He was on his way home. Annoyingly, his flight had been delayed, but as you stared up at the JFK arrivals board and it read: ‘Arrived’, you couldn’t help the bubbling up of excitement and giddy nervousness. It seemed like Tony was picking up on it as well because he stood against your leg, pawing at your thigh until you picked him up. He’d been missing his dad and had taken more comfort in your presence since he’d left. 

Your ears perked when the announcement that the baggage from his flight was about to begin its rounds through the baggage claim area. Your phone vibrated in the thigh pocket of your leggings. You gave Tony a quick squeeze before setting him back on the floor and taking your phone out. You smiled at the preview of the text you’d just received before you swiped to see the rest. 

‘Your fine ass better be waiting for me down there.’ 

You smirked before typing out a teasing reply. 

‘Got stuck in traffic a few times but I’m here. I hate Newark btw.’ 

You watched the dots appear and couldn’t help the audible laugh that escaped when you read his next message. 

‘Newark!?’ 

You interrupted him with a quick ‘I’m joking!!!’ before you could see what he was typing next. Then after a brief pause, the dots reappeared before his reprimand. 

‘You know you’re this close to the find-out stage of fuckin around?’ 

‘Oh? What if that’s exactly what I want?’ 

‘👀’

‘Not that I want to rush through the fuckin around part 😏’  

“I’ll be taking my sweet fucking time…don’t worry.”

You startled at his audible reply and your eyes shot up from your phone and met his as Tony pulled at the leash in your hand to reach him. He looked a bit tired but happy. His smile was wide across his stubbled face, quirking up at the corner when you smiled back. 

“Hey buddy!” he said, handing you his pillow before bending down to scoop Tony up into his arms. “I missed you!” he swooned in the adorable baby voice he reserved for his furry son. “Did you miss me too?” He rubbed Tony’s head and then his tummy. “Such a good boy!” 

You smiled at the two of them, pulling Tony’s leash from your wrist and handing it to Dylan. Tony would be stuck to him like glue now. 

“Hey, baby,” he said softly before he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your lips. One just long enough to make you the tiniest bit dizzy and eager for more. 

You blinked away distracting thoughts. “Do you have much luggage?” 

Dylan shook his head. “Just this,” he said pointing at his backpack, “and one bag on the turnstiles.” 

“Should be over there, they just announced it,” you said, taking a few steps toward the baggage claim area.

“Nice!” he said, hiking Tony up onto his shoulder a bit before he followed after you. 

His bag passed in front of him and he hefted it off the belt and popped out the handle and you took it from him so he could focus on the excited ball of fur in his arms. You set his pillow on it and wheeled it behind you toward the cab that was waiting out front. As much as you hated early morning airport runs, you were glad his 4 AM delayed arrival made the whole airport experience a lot smoother. Fewer people. Less traffic. You’d been able to get in and out without so much as a sideways glance from anyone else. 

“Hey you,” he said as he slumped in the seat next to you, Tony taking up the little bit of space between you. 

“Hey,” you said, smiling back at him. 

It was just after 5 AM and you’d only gotten a couple hours of sleep. Originally, he was supposed to have gotten in at midnight and had been scheduled to arrive at Newark, but his flight had been canceled. When he called you to let you know, you were already getting ready to catch the Uber you’d called to take you to the airport. You had a habit of being too punctual. But that also meant that you had a hard time settling and only managed a short nap before you got up to head to JFK. You were a bit tired, but feeling his warmth next to you for the first time in a while was enough of a comfort to fight off the droop of your sleepy eyes. You wanted to see his smile, the upturned tip of his nose, the lopsided smile he sported as he pet Tony. Sleep could wait. 

The drive back to the loft was rather uneventful. Traffic was light, you weren’t sure you’d ever made it the Carey Tunnel faster than you just had. When you hopped out of the car, Dylan gathered his bags from the back of the car and you headed up to the apartment. Home. It was always a comfortable place, but it was warmer when he was in it.

“Smells nice in here…” he said with a sigh, closing his eyes for a moment as his shoulders sagged in relaxation. “I missed it.” 

“And I missed you.” You stepped into his space and wrapped your arms around his waist and he quickly pulled you to his chest, looping his arms over your shoulders and pressing a kiss into your hair. 

“You did, huh?” he chuckled, the heat of his exhaled breath warming your skin. 

“Mhm…” you hummed, laying your cheek against his chest. The loft was dimly lit by a single lamp near the sofa in the living room and the streetlights that filtered in through the large windows. It added to the comfort you felt in his arms. 

“I missed you more,” he whispered.

“Impossible.” 

He sighed out a long breath, holding you tight to his chest before he pulled back, his hands clasped around your waist, eyes locked to yours. The warm, honey-brown hue of them sent a shiver down your spine, of course, it didn’t help that he’d begun to work his hands under the hem of your shirt, his fingertips pressing just a little more firmly into the bare skin covering your ribs when he leaned down to kiss you. 

His lips were insistent, the kiss at the airport clearly not satiating the need that had built during your time apart. It was a comforting reminder that his infatuation with you must be at least somewhat comparable to your own. 

You moaned when his lips wandered along your jaw and latched to your throat just below your ear. Not to be outdone and wanting a little audible thrill of your own, you were satisfied at the deep groan that emanated from the back of his throat when one of your roaming hands slipped down between your bodies to graze across the front of his thigh until it was cupping him through his sweatpants. 

“Definitely missed that,” he breathed out across your collarbone before pushing your hair back and sliding the collar of your shirt aside to access more of your skin. 

You laughed softly before it morphed into a half-whispered moan of his name when his teeth grazed along the sensitive skin above your breast. “Fuck…” you breathed, squeezing your hand around him eliciting an appreciative grumble from him that you felt vibrate the aching bit wet skin he’d been sucking on your chest. 

When you released your grip to slip your hand behind the waistband of his sweats, he grabbed your wrist. “Not yet…” he chuckled when he pulled back to see you scowling at him. “Don’t worry,” he said, smiling at you, brushing an errant hair back from the place where it hung in your eyes, “I’m gonna make you scream…” 

You swallowed thickly. 

“I’d just rather not reek like a man who’s known only seat 23A for 10 hours when I do it.” 

You chuckled softly. “Well…” you smiled back before reaching both hands around behind him, “then you better get this,” you squeezed his ass, “fine thing in the shower then.” You gave him a gentle spank. 

He laughed and pressed a kiss into your hair. “Thirsty little monster,” he said, running his hand down your arm. “Join me?” he said, pleading gaze meeting yours. 

You nodded and he took your hand, lacing your fingers together and leading you through the apartment toward the bathroom. The gentle squeeze of his hand in yours sent a satisfying ripple of warmth through your body. Just as you’d made it through the door to the bathroom, you tugged on his hand and swung his body to pin him against the counter of the vanity. 

He let out a soft huff at the gentle impact and smiled down at you as you grabbed at the hem of his shirt and yanked it roughly up over his body. His bare chest heaved as your eyes roved over him, your hands following your gaze across his pecs, through the soft hair, down his abs, settling on the waistband of his sweats before you began to crouch in front of him as you slid them down his thighs to pool at his feet. 

You looked at him from between his thighs and watched as his brown eyes turned near-black, crouching there longer than was necessary to achieve the task, fluttering your lashes at him.

“Fucking tease…” he muttered under his breath before he hauled you up in front of him and stripped your top off, tossing it across the room before he latched onto your throat and bit down. 

While you writhed in his arms, his hands warmed up your back until his fingers worked open the clasp of your bra. He slipped his fingers under the straps and slid them free of your shoulders and let the garment fall to the floor. 

“Mmm…” he mused, looking down at your chest before he leaned forward and captured your lower lip between his teeth and pulled it back slightly before releasing it to kiss down the column of your throat. He cupped you breast and brought his lips to the peak and flattened his tongue in a wide sweep before sealing his lips to suck your nipple until it was taut and pebbled.

“Dylan…” you groaned, your hands tangling into his hair.

He held you against his body and swapped your positions until your lower back was pressed against the vanity. He nipped at your chest before he finally pulled back and lifted you to sit on the counter in front of him. He quickly unbuttoned your jeans and pulled them from you, throwing them into a heap with the rest of your discarded clothing. Then he slotted himself between your thighs. “Shower’s right there…” he titled his head in its direction, “and yet here we are…” he smiled, his fingertips trailing down from your arms, along your ribs and waist until they teased at the elastic of the last piece of clothing you were left wearing.  

“Here we are…” you repeated, looking down your body at his hand as it slipped into your underwear. You fell forward into his chest when you felt his teasing, barely there touch where you were now aching to feel it. Your sharp intake of breath didn’t go unnoticed.

He leaned in and grinned against the skin of your throat before pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the tendon running the length of it. “Something wrong?” he teased, still not touching you the way you wished he would. 

“Please…” you whispered. 

The little amused noise he made only frustrated you more, because Instead of giving in to your need, he hooked his fingers around the band of your underwear and stepped back from you to slide them free from your legs. He twirled them around his long index finger before letting them slip out of his hands to the floor. His eyes roamed over you, exposed to him now, perched on the counter. “Fucking perfect…” he breathed, giving his head a slight shake.

You flushed under his attentive gaze, your own eyes catching on the obvious sign of his own interest tenting the front of his boxer briefs. “Talkin’ about yourself?” you finally managed. 

He smiled and shook his head. 

“You should be…” you sighed, “but you could stand to be just a bit more naked…” you pointed to his underwear. 

He laughed. “Fair,” he said before turning around to turn on the shower. He looked back at you, smirking as he hooked his thumbs in the band of his boxers. When he slid them down his thighs the need you felt for him was almost unbearable. He held out a hand to help you down. “Time to get you wet,” he said with a smirk. 

“Too late.” 

His brows shot up his forehead. “Fuck… me…” he muttered

You stepped past him, your hands gliding over his naked torso, and into the shower. “That’s the plan.” 

He followed after and closed the door, the glass quickly began to fog with the steam as you stood under the spray of the faucet. Even though you knew the water was hot, it almost felt cool on your heated skin. Dylan watched you as you ran your hands over your body before he reached out, gripping your hips. He shoved you back against the wall and his lips crashed into yours. 

You reached up clasped around his neck, your hands tangling into the wet strands of his hair, deepening the kiss and tasting the faint hint of mint on his tongue. His teeth grazed over your bottom lip, pulling it taut before he kissed along your jawline. 

He muttered something unintelligible under his breath against your throat.

“Soap’s over there,” you sighed, jutting your chin to the shelf in the corner. 

“Right… showering…” his teasing mouth paused and he pulled back from you. “You’re so fucking distracting…” he groaned, his grip on your hips shifting to your ass before he squeezed it in both of his palms. 

You grinned and wet your lower lip with your tongue. 

“Not helping.”

You laughed before you pushed him away enough to grab the body wash from the shelf and squeeze it onto his loofa. “Lemme help then,” you said, gesturing for him to turn around in front of you, the water now striking him in the chest. 

He didn’t protest, and quickly spun around as you took a small step closer, so your wet body was pressed briefly against him before you began to scrub his shoulders and upper back. 

“Mmm…” he hummed, rolling his neck. 

You tickled him enough to raise his arms so you could wash them both thoroughly. You smiled watching him noticeably relax his shoulders. You washed down his back, sliding the loofa down to the dips in his low back and over his perfect ass. 

“Taking your time back there…” he chuckled. 

“Stop having such a nice ass and maybe I’d make quicker work of it.” 

He shook a bit with a contained laugh. “Noted.” 

You finally relented, taking one last look at his soapy cheeks before you reached around to scrub his chest and stomach, not spending too much time before reaching down and squeezing the loofa at his belly button and letting the soap begin to run down his body. Your free hand followed after it until it was teasing at the coarse hair, brushing just where you knew he was dying for you to touch him. 

“Relentless fucking tease–” 

You cut off his complaint by wrapping your hand around his sudsy length and pumping him just once. “You were saying?” you breathed against his back before you kissed his shoulder blade before you pumped him again. 

He groaned, his head falling forward. “I’ll shut up… just don’t fucking stop.” 

You beamed with pride. It wasn’t like he never begged, but it was far less common than your own pleadings that more frequently bounced off the walls of this room. You rewarded its rarity by picking up the pace with your hand, pinning him against you with the other hand pressing against the front of his thigh, the loofa long forgotten at his feet. 

He stuttered forward, one hand coming up to hold his weight against the tiled wall the other grasping gently at your wrist, not stopping you, but guiding your hand. “Fuck,” he cursed, the last consonant of it coming out shuddered and low.

You were growing more and more impatient with each second. The ache between your thighs was forcing you to squeeze them together for some kind of relief. You moaned in frustration, your pace faltering. 

Dylan squeezed your wrist and stilled your hand. “Someone sounds needy…” he whispered, pulling your hand free of him and swapping your positions. He pressed you back against the wall and grabbed your body wash from the shelf, squeezing some into his palm. 

You watched him warm his hands together, lathering the gel into foamy suds in those gorgeous fucking hands that you knew he was about to touch you with. 

He smirked at the audible sound of you swallowing before he cupped one of your breasts, his other hand snaking around you, his fingers teasing the dimples of your lower back. He pinched your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, his nose nudging your chin up enough for him to run his tongue up the length of your throat before he kissed you. 

Your heart hammered in your chest, your skin pebbled with goosebumps, your body sang under his touch. You’d missed him. God, how you’d missed him. It should be against the Geneva Convention for him to be away from you this long. Torture, pure and simple. But this? This was as close as you could imagine to what it might feel like to be moments from dying of thirst in a vast desert only to stumble into the cool waters of an oasis.

He slid his hand down your body and, without a hint of teasing or pretense, rubbed your clit with the pads of two fingers. 

“Holy. Sh–!” you cussed, only getting half of it out before it devolved into a strangled moan. 

Dylan nudged at your chin as your head lolled in pleasure, his lips skimming across your skin, breathing out praise as he continued to swirl his fingers over the sensitive bundle of nerves that had you writhing against him. “Missed the way you sound…” he nipped your neck, “the way you feel…” he groped at your chest again with his free hand, “the way you taste…” he kissed you again, his tongue demanding entry into your mouth. 

His talented fingers had you approaching the edge, that warm feeling building up inside you, that pressure that made you feel like you were electrified. “Dyl… please…” you softly begged when he gave you a moment to finally breathe. 

His lips slipped from yours, your noses touching, both of you panting in the same air. Then you whined when you felt his fingers disappear from you. He stepped back into the stream of water and pulled you with him, kissing you everywhere his lips could reach as the hot spray of the shower rinsed you both clean of suds. 

You looped your arms around his neck and he gripped the backs of your thighs, hauling you up so you could wrap your legs around his waist. 

His eyes were wide with the same wonder he somehow still held for you even though he’d had you so many times there was no way to keep count. It made you feel warm and wanted. Desired and beautiful.  

“Could stay in this shower for the rest of my fucking life…” he said as he pinned your back to the wall and bucked up against you, slickening himself in the folds of your body, driving the head of his cock into your already sensitive clit. 

Your eyes rolled back at the contact, your hips rocking forward to meet the roll of his. “We’ll… we’ll get all pruney….” you finally breathed out. 

He laughed against your throat before he kissed, nipped, and sucked what you knew would be an impressive little bruise into your skin. “So be it,” he said, and then he shifted his hips, met your gaze, and slid into you to the hilt. 

The stretch, the fullness, it was almost as shocking now as the first time you’d felt him buried inside you. It was perfection, blissfully indecent perfection. You moaned his name, your fingernails clawing at his shoulders as he began to set a punishing pace, driving up into you hard, rutting his body against yours enough to stimulate you in just the right places, inside and out. 

“Shit!” you swore, letting your head fall back against the tiled wall. 

He fucked into you over and over as you felt yourself edging closer to the brink. You felt your thighs begin to shudder as his pace grew more erratic an unpredictable. 

“So fucking tight…” he groaned before he kissed the valley between your collarbones. 

The strangled need in his voice, the feel of his breath against your skin–all of it coupled with the delicious way the end of his length was pressing into that perfect spot inside you that made you feel like you were losing touch with reality–you were ready. “Fuck, Dyl–” 

He raised one hand to press on your chin enough to force your gaze back to his, the pad of his thumb dragging across your lower lip. 

You moaned and flicked at it with the tip of your tongue. “I’m so close… please!” you begged.

He drove his thumb between your lips and when you sucked it into your mouth, he slipped the hand on your thigh between your legs to rub his finger over your clit just when he drove a final thrust against your g-spot. 

You’d had your fair share of fantastic orgasms at this man’s hands, literally, but this one was up there standing proudly on the podium collecting its medal. It was a rush of pent-up need and desire that washed over you like a crashing tidal wave. Every single cell in your body felt like it was vibrating with pleasure. Your muscles clamped down on him as you felt him join you in his own release. The feel of him spilling into you, the sound of your name falling from his slack lips, making it all so much more intense. It was perfection. Pure and simple. Absolute. Unadulterated. Bliss.

Your chest heaved against his, both of you softly laughing between kisses before you felt him slip free of your body. His hands warmed up your arms before they cupped either side of your neck. 

“I love you so fucking much.” 

You smiled at him, leaning in to run your nose along his throat until your lips were at his ear. “I love you too.” 

He sighed and his lips found yours, but he held back from the kiss long enough to speak. “Hell of a welcome home.”