I always thought my boyfriend Tom had an underwear kink. On our first date we went out to dinner and enjoyed the amazing food. After we paid the bill and left the restaurant, Tom being the gentleman he is, opened the car door for me and made sure i was safely inside the car. Once Tom got into his side of the car he started the car and he drove me back home.
It’s been a whole day and i haven’t really cried. I felt an overwhelming need to cry my eyes out, but my body seems to shut down the emotion as soon as it came.
I guess it’s because a part of me still refuse to believe that I have lost my childhood hero.
I read about it and even talked about it, but deep inside, I still hope that this was not real.
Some might not understand why he means so much to me, so let me explain.
When I’m having a bad day, or feeling down or just a little misunderstood, listening to his music made me feel like I’m not alone. That eventhough I’m not good with words, it’s okay because these lyrics explained everything.
Sure, he didnt even know me and he did music for a job, but his music was what comforted me. He’s special to me, even more than some who claim to be my friends. It wasn’t their hand that held me together when I was falling apart. It was this man’s honest lyrics and beautiful voice.
Thank you, Chester. We love you.
I wish I could’ve said this to you personally, a few years back. I took that moment for granted, thinking I could see you again.
I miss you already. Why did you have to leave so soon?
“My momma was so lovely she would make your head spin Leveling the playing field and y'all see who really win And yeah I got anger But I don’t let it take me down Cause my momma taught me better And she holds me up when I fall down”
Warnings: angst adjacent, smut, dirty talk, LOTS of language
Word Count: 2.7k
A/N: I was looking through some REALLY old requests and I came across an idea from @jennalyncarrigan1230 from who knows how long ago. She pitched an idea that I have twisted and LOVE the outcome. I doubt she even remembers sending the ask, but her initial idea sparked this smutty goodness. This took on a life of its own. I haven’t wrote Dean smut or ANY smut in quite some time. This is officially DIRTY. Or at least by my standards it is. Hope you enjoy. ;)Italics & Bold indicate reader’s thoughts. This has very little plot. Just the poor reader thinking her secret dirty thoughts about Dean only to have them be not so secret anymore.
Tip: read this in bucky’s voice *casually sips tea*
I like it when she stands next to
the door, shoulder resting on its frame, and when she has that glint of
mischief in her smile, and eyes that are already brimming with lust, dark and
wild and motivated to wreck me.
I like it when she walks inside, in just my wrinkled
shirt, the hem of which reaches till her mid-thighs. She walks in with an
intention to bring me down to my knees.
I like it when she pushes me back on the bed, legs
straddling my body, hands freely roaming over my bare chest, nails drawing red
angry marks. And I like it when she smirks, feeling my heart thrumming
underneath her assault.
I like when she leans down, lips pressing against my
neck, hips teasingly rolling down on mine, pulling a mewl of her name as a
warning to behave.
“This is amazing, Shawn” I muttered, my jaw dropping amazed.
“Dude, it’s dope” Brian agreed, nodding excited.
Shawn had invited us all around to see his new flat and though the rooms were impressive, Shawn’s view over Toronto beat every view I’d ever seen in my entire life. Even the sunset Brian and I once watched in Sri Lanka didn’t do this one justice.
“Your mother outdid herself finding this” I said, looking out at the CN Tower lighting colourfully up in the dark.
sometimes I like to try train my left (non-dominant) hand. It takes more time and stuff but I think I’m slowly getting somewhere. Sometimes my left hand comes up with designs my right hand wouldn’t. (And sometimes my right hand just needs a break..) My goal is to be able to draw with both hands at the same time one day.
A/N: After the overwhelming amount of requests, here you have it y’all! I hope you guys like this, it’s very explicit and detailed much like part one. Also, thank you to @stilinski-jpeg for proofreading this.
Two weeks. It’s been two weeks since the hotel room incident and Dylan hasn’t done a single thing about it. My phone has never received another text from him nor did he ever talk about it with me again. The topic was completely avoided when we were together, but I certainly didn’t miss the other signs he was giving me. What with the knowing glances, the winks, the smirks, the lingering touches on my arm that aren’t necessary, the way he stares at my lips whenever I talk to him as he licks his own. I knew exactly what he was doing…
Dylan was fucking teasing me. And the worst part? It’s actually working.