they had lights inside their eyes

Destiny | WMatsui - Chapter 23

Churi opened her eyes slowly as she distinguished the light, familiar sobbing behind her back. It was the middle of the night and she was feeling awfully tired, but Churi couldn’t hold it against the other girl for unconsciously waking her up. A small, helpless sigh escaped her lips as she listened quietly to the heartwrenching manifestation of Jurina’s sorrow. It had already been two weeks, and Churi still couldn’t conceive what Rena had dared to do.

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Each of them had something...

Molly noticed it a lot in the weeks following. It started with Ginny and a note left for Molly when she came back from town one afternoon.

“Hey mum, gone down the road to play some Quidditch, be back by dinner. Love Ginny” 

It was in the Gs and the way she wrote Mum specifically but seeing the handwriting put a lump in her throat and burning tears in her eyes.

The next was Ron, he was home studying for his Auror training and he was having a hard time. She heard him stomping and throwing his book against the wall and the sound made her dizzy.

A little later Percy would come home for a visit and when he walked through the door with a “mornin’ mum” she felt her legs buckle below her and she needed to lean on the table to stay upright.

Then a package came from Charlie, inside was a picture of him with a new dragon and the way the light struck his eyes made her gasp for air and hold her chest.

Bill came by the house one evening and kicked his boots off by the door, spreading dirt all over the hall and when she walked through the door she almost cursed HIM and when the words were in her throat she realized whos boots they were, the words caught in her throat and she dropped the bags she had been carrying. 

The worst of all was about a month and a half later, the first time George joined them for a real meal. She walked into the kitchen and saw him sitting at the table from behind and leaving the room sunk to the floor in the hallway crying.

Ginny had Fred’s handwriting.

Ron had Fred’s temper.

Percy had Fred’s voice and enunciation.

Charlie had Fred’s eyes.

Bill had Fred’s mannerisms.

George had Fred.

Pepero Day (M)

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Yoongi x reader

Genre: Smut, Bestfriend!Yoongi, Valentine’s Day themed

Word count: 5.7k

warnings: Rated M, language, graphic sexual descriptions

A/N: This was meant to be a valentine’s day fic, but it’s a day late, rip. I hope you enjoy it regardless!

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Let Me Protect You - Mitch Rapp

Author: @mf-despair-queen

Characters: Mitch Rapp/Reader

Word Count: 11,337

Warnings: WHERE DO I EVEN BEGIN? 18+, NSFW, Oral (both receiving), Orgasm Denial, Multiple Orgasms, Daddy Kink, Shower Sex, Wall Sex, Bondage, Mitch’s Scruff, Mitch’s sexy ass arms and muscles and abs and face and MITCH’S ENTIRE BEING

Notes: Holy. Shit. It’s long overdue but THAT WORD COUNT??? I am dying inside from this. I hope you dirty people like this. Please let me know because this literally killed me inside to write. 

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be a good girl

A/N: okay, so, i caved and i….. wrote my very first smut….. here you guys go, i hope you enjoy, there’s literally no plot, its just peter smut.

pairing: peter x reader

peter hooked his fingers in your shirt collar and used it to drag you closer. you were wearing a short skirt and his pants were already unzipped, giving him easy access to you.

“how bad do you want it?” he murmured against your neck, dragging his hands down your sides until they rested on your hips. you bit your lip and stayed propped up on his lap, grabbing his shoulders.

“bad,” you replied, almost panting already. just the anticipation was making your mouth water.

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Some eventful days at college

-my best friend was accused of attempted murder by my uni. It was so scary and ridiculous at the same time. We were freshmen. She asked me to witness at court, in the end the charges were dropped.
-me and my other friends trespassed into a morgue. We got caught and the guard let us off with a warning. He told us not to get spooked on our way down.
-kids deadass watching porn on their laptops while the professors do not give a single shit
-there was a bomb threat on the day of prelim exams and everyone was evacuated. The bomb threat was apparently made by a bunch of seniors who wanted to delay the exam dates.
-I forgot to watch the weather while on my way to Uni and I was asleep on the bus. Too sleepy to notice it was storming. The bus got caught in a flood and as I went down, the water reached to my knees. I had to wade through waist-deep flood to go down like four blocks to get home. It was Bad Scoob.
-literally just. Professors showing up to class /reeking/ of weed. One professor swaggered into class and started teaching analytical geometry and everyone was just. Sitting there trying to tell him it was a Marketing Strategies class
-I accidentally joined a one day recreational class on veganism.
- I get this sounds like a Classic ™ Tumblr story but I had this professor who was always an emotional Mess. He showed up to class one day hungover, with his shirt inside out, stained, eyes red, and flip flops.
-he went into class and asked us to turn off the lights. He went to his desk while the rest of us were sitting in silence and the man just. Starts crying. “I don’t even know why I’m crying, guys. I’m sorry. Give me a second to gather myself.” And he slammed his fist on the table. “I hate this class so fucking much.”

billionyengirl  asked:

IS THERE GONNA BE A SECOND PART OF THE OTHER GIRL??? PLEASE SAY YES

Author’s note: YES!!! You can read part one here 

The Other Girl part 2

The hell?

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, trying to avoid Zen’s glare. His scarlet eyes narrowed as you squirmed.

Just ignore him… ignorehimignorehimignorehimignore

“MC?”

“Him-Ah, I-I mean, what?”

Crap, I’m not crying again, am I?

“…I asked if you invited Allergy to the next party,” Seven leaned forward, slightly tilting his head. His eyes softened, silently asking if everything was okay.

You gave him a reassuring smile. “Yeah, I sent an-”

“MC, can you help me with something in the kitchen?”

Zen moved his petite girlfriend off his lap and stood up. He walked out of the room without an answer.

I guess I don’t have much of a choice…

You sunk farther back into your chair and closed your eyes.

Maybe I can pretend I didn’t hear him.

“MC, aren’t you going to help him?”

You gritted your teeth and slowly stood.

“I guess I will, Yoosung.”

As you walked away, Yoosung ‘hmph’ed.

“Who spit in her coffee this morning,” he muttered.

Life. Life spit in my coffee.

You peeked your head into the kitchen.

“Zen?”

“Over here.”

Zen looked over at you, the familiar glare returning to his face.

Oh my gosh-

“-What the hell is your problem?”

Zen continued to stare at you, completely ignoring your question. The kitchen light above you flickered, and the low hum of the refrigerator filled the heavy silence.

“I don’t have to put up with this.”

As you turned away, a warm hand grabbed your wrist.

“Wait.”

Slowly, Zen pulled you back in front of him. He closed his eyes and sighed.

You looked down at the iron grip he had on your wrist, and then back up to his face.

Seriously? First he acts like some angsty teenager, giving me the silent treatment, and now I can’t even leave?

The burning in your chest overwhelmed you, rage bubbling up inside every inch of your body.

Okay, okay, I need to calm down. 

You looked down at your shoes, trying to remember what Seven told you before the party.

Seven placed both his hands on your shoulders. “Okay, MC, listen up. I’m about to give you some grade A wisdom!”

You sighed and tilted your head. “What is it this time?”

“If you ever feel too overwhelmed just count to ten!”

“…Huh?”

“You know… one, two, three-”

“I-I know how to count,” you playfully pushed him away, “but does that really work? I mean, is that what you do?”

“No, I just push away the people I love and dig myself into a hole of self-hatred.”

“Anddddd, why can’t I do that??”

“Because,” Seven patted the top of your head, “I care about you too much to let you do that.”

Zen let out a heavy sighed, bringing you back to reality. 

Counting to ten, huh? Alright… I’ll try your way first.

You let out a breath and looked back up at Zen. He opened his eyes, loosening the grip on your wrist.

One.

Zen moved closer to you, his eyes trained on your face.

Two.

Your back hit the counter, trapping you between the wall and him.

Three.

His cold eyes turned soft, and the smile you had grown to love appeared on his face once again.

Four.

You heart was beating so loud you could’ve sworn he heard it.

Five.

He let go of your wrist, slowly moving his hand up to your cheek.

Six.

The world around you stopped. Your stomach flipped, and you mentally cursed at your now flushed face.

Seven.

Zen’s eyes looked down at your lips, his hand slowly pulling your face toward him.

Eight.

You held your breath.

Nine.

He leaned in to close the gap.

Ten.

“S-Stop.”

Zen’s warm and ragged breath tickled your nose. Your eyes wandered up to look into his red ones, his faces only centimeters away.

Despite everything your heart was telling you, you pulled away. Your back hit the cold counter again and you winced, readjusting your stance. You leaned against the wall and stared at the white tile floor, avoiding the confused look Zen was giving you. He cleared his throat.

“I thought-”

“That was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.”

You bit your lip, failing to hold back the tears already streaming down your face. You looked up at Zen through blurry eyes. “You have a girlfriend… you didn’t choose me, you chose her.”

Your voice felt distant and unfamiliar. Slowly, you began losing control of your surroundings. The world-

No.

Your world came crashing down. In one short burst of courage, you pushed past him.

“Can’t I love both of you?”

Those words stopped you in your tracks.

I’m such an idiot.

Everything felt cold and numb. Without turning around, you spoke up.

“Are you really so selfish as to keep dragging me along like some kind of… kind of… cat toy?”

Despite the situation, you smiled.

Jumin would be ecstatic right now.

You felt a hand on your shoulder.

“I’m not selfish, I just don’t want you to end up with… anyone else.”

“That’s the definition of selfish!! And who the hell else would I-”

That’s when it clicked. That’s when everything clicked.

Zen’s glaring.

Seven’s kindness.

Your feelings.

You shrugged off Zen’s hand and opened the door to the living room.

“MC, please just… wait!”

But you were done waiting. You stormed out of the kitchen, Zen on your heels.

I finally understand now.

“There they are, we’ve been waiting! We’re gonna play charades.”

Jaehee smiled at you and Zen, oblivious to the fight that had just occurred in the kitchen.

“MC, pleaseeee be on my team!! I’ll be your best frienddddd!!!!”

Zen’s stare burned holes in the back of your head and you heard him audibly scoff.  Seven stood up and smiled at you, extending one hand toward you.

Seven…

In one big swoop, you grabbed his hand and pulled him toward you. You placed a hand on the back of his neck, connecting your lips with his.

It didn’t take long for him to react. He cupped your chin, deepening the kiss. When the two of you pulled apart, you were both out of breath.

You wiped your mouth, sending a cold glare Zen’s way. When you looked back at Seven he was as red as his hair.

“I-I thought you liked-“

You leaned your forehead against his.

“I like you, Seven. It just took one selfish prick,” you glanced back at Zen, “to help me figure that out.”

Seven gave you a goofy smile and-oh no…

“SevEN PUT ME DOWN!! D-Don’t spin me, I’M GONNA HURL!”

He laughed as he released you from his giant bear hug, plopping you back on the ground. You grabbed his arm for balance.

After you re-orientated yourself, you looked back at the shocked group.

“So… charades?”

It was with a warm hand on Castiel’s shoulder that Chuck watched his son die for the first time. Watched as the archangel shredded Cas under the weight and pull of angelic power. It was messy. It was callous.

Chuck wiped his blood-covered hands on his jeans, feeling the way the slick met rough—what was left of his son smeared on the denim.

Dean had come and gone and Chuck was left, sitting in the red-painted house, knowing that somewhere, his firstborn son was breaking free. Going to end the world.

Chuck sighed, grabbing a bottle of liquor from the counter and taking a deep swig. He could still see the glow in Castiel’s eyes. Not from grace, but from something perhaps more pure. Like a memory of the light once used to create the earth and all the creatures that inhabited it. The light that Chuck had given his creations straight from his own fingertips.

Cas, you beautiful idiot, he had thought as the room shook and he watched his son hold his ground, his last breaths rooted in a pearl of hope for the Earth. Hope placed in the small hands of two forgettable hunters fighting against the rising powers of hell.

The brave sacrifice of the brown-haired, blue eyed angel who died to save the world would likely never be told, but still, Chuck couldn’t help but think that it was the stuff that stories were made of.

It was quiet now, in the kitchen with the reminder of Cas, the man who’d ripped up the pages of destiny and spat in the face of fate. The man who’d scoured the earth in search for God with nothing but a second-hand pendant and a desire to protect.

Chuck closed his eyes, tightly. A desire to protect, he thought, his mind drifting back to the sense of wonder he’d felt when he’d first created his angels.

He sat down and poured a little drink on the floor in tribute before squeezing the bottle between his knees. And he tried not to remember that he had the power to protect, too. To protect the world from the impending apocalypse. To protect Castiel.

He didn’t. He wouldn’t. It was a promise he’d made a long time ago when, in an effort to “save,” he’d purged the earth with water. What surprised him, however, was how men continued to preach in his name, building philosophies and stamping them with heaven’s seal without care to God’s sanctions.

“Maybe my children make better Gods than me,” Chuck considered, finding himself again drawn to the two young brothers that, even now, were facing Michael and Lucifer when even their own God couldn’t.Dean and Sam were better men than their father, Chuck thought, and Cas was a better man than me.

Chuck stared at the way the room wore bits of Cas and wondered at the feelings of sentiment he felt. True, Chuck knew all of his angels, but he couldn’t find it in himself to understand why he felt the world was smaller now in the space since he’d watched Castiel die. After all, it was simply the natural order of things. He created angels like shooting stars: fiery, fierce and beautiful. And, like the meteoroids plowing through the sky, Cas had come too close to the earth, burning up inside the atmosphere.

Once, Chuck had commanded the angels to love the humans. The angels had become volatile, hardened creatures, made for duty with no one to serve. Statues of rigid perfection.

Chuck looked down at his own hands, letting his mind wander through the intricate designs of the human vessel he’d created for himself. Human flesh was so different than the fierce ether of an angel. He’d created them with the heads of beasts and great spanning wings. They were formidable, truly, they were. And yet, Chuck knew, even then, when he’d first birthed them, that humans were his most beautiful creation. They were breakable, small, and beautifully flawed. And, he’d known then, too, that he’d created mankind to save them all. To save the angels. To save himself.

It was his own last beacon of hope, that perhaps they could all become something more than the patterns of war and violence that had emanated from him and poured into his creations.

Chuck smiled as he looked at the Supernatural books, knowing he had found it. His broken children who had become more than their God, willing to die for the sake of the planet.

They had transcended him. He always knew they would. But, what had surprised him was the angel in the dirty trench coat and blue eyes, falling away from heaven’s glory for one man. One human. An angel that had such faith in and love for humanity that he’d given up everything.

Chuck bowed his head to his chest. He wouldn’t, he couldn’t get involved. And yet, he could still hear Castiel’s prayers in the back of his head—months of the angel’s voice crying for an absent God to step in and save his children.

And Chuck knew what he had to do. Though it wasn’t much in the grand scheme of things—a small gesture, really. But significant nonetheless.

Slowly, he leaned down to the floor, touching a spot of red with his finger. He watched as the bits of Cas responded, finding their way back to the whole. It was a fascinating process, to see the parts of Cas’s vessel come together, gathering, binding, creating arms, legs, a face. Until, suddenly, he was staring at the calm features of Cas’s body, laying down with his eyes closed, as if he could be asleep.

Then, with a breath, Chuck pulled light from the skies, infusing grace and soul and power to recreate Castiel’s true form, creating a sacred space inside the simple kitchen of Chuck’s home. It felt wrong, in a way, to bring so much of his God self back to the place where he had gone to leave it all behind. And yet, it also felt right. To put something back together again after such a long time of watching things fall apart.

And, finally, it was done as he gingerly placed Castiel back inside the man laying on the ground. He watched as the vessel’s chest hitched with the first breath of life, and smiled when he looked at the body he’d created just for Cas. For the angel who wanted so badly to love humans. In a way, now he could be one. He thought Cas would like that he’d made him look like Jimmy. That maybe he’d find it easier if he could look in the mirror and see the man whose face had first chosen to be so autonomous and free from heaven.

Cas’s eyes were still closed, and Chuck knew he couldn’t let him wake up here. He couldn’t face his son. Not now. Still, he was surprised to find himself kneeling on the floor of the kitchen, running his hands through the soft parts of Castiel’s hair, his thoughts, surprisingly far away from the ending of the rest of the world. Instead, he placed a kiss on top of Cas’s head, sending him to a beautiful forest, by a stream to wake up.

And then the kitchen was empty again, the clock on the wall ticking loudly, and the stain from the spilled alcohol shining on the floor.

Chuck contemplated what he’d done. Wondered at his own need to break every rule that had bound him for centuries and heal one lowly angel when he’d let hundreds of others die.

But, he thought he already knew the answer. Where Chuck had made humans in a deliberate effort at salvation, one lowly angel had been a surprise. A miracle. And, as Chuck sat back in his chair, he smiled as he admitted it to himself: it turned out that maybe it wasn’t just the humans that were there to save. It turned out that maybe, just maybe, a forgettable, self-sacrificing angel with blue eyes and too much heart could be the one to redeem them all.

Morning Pleasure*

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader
Rating: Explicit
Summary: Reader wants to eat the breakfast Chris has cooked for her, but he has other plans. Blame your too sexy denim shorts!
Words Count: 1.7k
Genre: NSFW/SMUT
Warning: Long detailed oral sex (female receiving).

Gifs used below aren’t mine, credit to the rightful owners.

Freshly out of your morning shower, you finished adding the last touches to your light makeup after you had gotten dressed in your favorite denim shorts and a white cotton blouse.

Walking in the kitchen, you followed the smell of the pancakes and fresh fruits that Chris had cooked, accompanied by the exotic effluvia of hot coffee. You smiled at the sight of your boyfriend too busy to notice your presence as his back was turned to you, humming the slow melody of a song you both loved.

You walked up to him and folded your arms around his broad chest, wrapped by his Henley shirt, planting a longing and loving kiss at the back of his neck as he smiled widely.

“Hmm, what did I do so special for you to cook this morning?” You murmured.

“You came into my life,” Chris accompanied your mocking laugh and you moved your body to rest against the counter, standing next to him.

“You know, I’ve been thinking about our trip to Boston next week and…” you trailed off, noticing Chris’ baby blue gaze remaining locked on your frame. “What, you don’t like the outfit?“ You interrogated, checking out, yet he didn’t answer and kept looking at you.

His gaze was so ardent that you almost forgot how to breathe properly. Every time your man laid his eyes on you with such fierce, you felt the desire rising inside.

“Chris?”

Your boyfriend eventually looked up at your blown eyes, licking his full lips and you could see his pupils dilating slowly as he drank in the view from his orbs like he had been in the desert for long days of a burning hot summer.

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lurkeymclurker  asked:

What do you think it'd be like if one of the Rogue One members had survived? How would that effect the original trilogy and how would they cope with everything?

Cassian didn’t talk, at first. There didn’t seem anything else to say.

.

Mothma came at some point. Cassian woke up and she was at his bedside, sitting ramrod-straight, so very tall and white, even moreso washed out by the lights of the medbay. (She made him think of the columns on Imenthe—natural salt deposits like spires, like teeth ringing the great and violent sea. He killed a man there, got blood on all that white, white salt. And afterward he had sat in the sand, watched the tide come in and wash it all away.

Mon Mothma always made him think of Imenthe.)

She was studying his face now, and Cassian raised his eyebrows at her. She smiled a little. “Ah, Captain. I—have spent the last half-hour trying to decide what I would say.” 

She was quiet a moment, then the smile turned rueful. “I’m still not certain whether there is anything I could say.”

Cassian snorted, shut his eyes again. After a moment, he felt a very cool hand pressed to his forehead. “Cassian,” Mothma said, and there was something almost human in her voice, a thing like kindness. “Cassian, you saved us. How will we ever repay you?”

The meddroid had been very clear, he wasn’t supposed to move unassisted. Cassian risked it to turn his head away, screwing his eyes so tightly shut that he could see those little floating stars flare to life behind his eyelids.

Mothma drew her hand away. 

He heard her stand, the chair scraping a little as she did. “Bodhi Rook was released from bacta suspension last night,” she said, and her voice was cool again, impersonal. “He is expected to make a full recovery. The technicians are still working to fully recover K-2SO’s backup, but…I believe this means you were more than just successful in your mission, Captain. You brought everyone home.

“I thought you might be interested to know,” Mothma added after a moment. Her boots made a sharp, clipped noise on the stone floor, and then she was gone. 

Cassian went back to sleep.

.

(He only vaguely remembers what happened after Scarif. The adrenaline wore away quickly after Krennic was dead, and in its place came a rising pain, pain like the firestorm that engulfed Jedha. By the time they stumbled from the lifttube, Jyn was the only thing holding him upright; Jyn was telling him, cassian cassian c’mon, just a little farther, okay? just a little—it’ll be over soon, you can rest, I’ll let you rest, just—just—

But the rest is a scattered succession of images, half-memories: the sound of a ship’s engine overhead, and Jyn shouting here, we’re here!, a heavy weight on Cassian’s chest and screams he couldn’t make out (was that him screaming?) too much pain—he thinks he passed out once or twice; someone asking for his medical history and Cassian slurring, ask kaytoo, he keeps my records, before remembering—

I can’t feel my legs, he said at one point, he remembers that. Jyn’s face swimming into his vision, the red of blood streaked across her cheek. I can’t…that’s not good, is it, if I can’t…

Flickering lights, medical jargon he couldn’t understand. Someone saying spine, and spine again. (Every time he shut his eyes he could feel himself falling again, the whip-bang of the metal landing—) His spine again. Jyn’s voice, high and tight, saying yes, okay, yes. do whatever you have to.

When he woke up in the medbay on Yavin, he was alone.)

.

Cassian’s dreams were confused, a muddled haze of dead sentients clawing at his skin and his mother’s face—out of focus, distant and cold as a moon; he barely remembered enough of her to dream it anymore—and then suddenly, a cool pressure on his mind, rippling outwards. He was standing at the edge of a vast ocean, breathing in the cold tang of salt and the water. 

It was quiet.

He exhaled, and then he was lying in the medbay, and the sound of waves beating against the shore was just the thrum of blood in his ears.

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I Own You

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Words: 2508

Warnings: Angst;  rough, unprotected sex; fluffy ending

A/N: I had a mighty need to write some angry, rough Loki… So here you go. I hope you enjoy! 

Originally posted by luvn-loki



A dull headache was the first thing that woke you up. You blinked few times to clear your sight and look at the empty side next to you.

Turning around you noticed that the sheets were a pure mess and then you noticed that it was 2 p.m.

“Ah, great!” you groaned and then pulled to covers to the side.

You were naked and probably got awfully drunk last night.

Then it hit you. You had a fight with the god of mischief before you let tequila possess you.

 You laid back in the bed and tried to remember something more from last night, but you got nada. All you could still feel was the strong smell of the steaming alcohol off your skin.

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I’ll take what’s left of you

The wonderful orenjimaru (I put a link because it refuses to tag) drew a fabulous piece with Jack and Gabriel on Tumblr and Twitter

Which inspired me to write this:


Gabriel visited the one Angela called ‘Jack’ every time he was at the watchpoint.

It had taken her weeks to relent and let him inside, she thought his intentions malicious, but that was to be expected. A cancer was growing inside of Overwatch and it was Gabriel’s job to snuff it out. However, that didn’t mean he wasn’t at the top of the list in ‘persons of interest’.

The first time he visited, it was for a routine check-up and the large, bubbling tube of green liquid caught his eye from the exam room. He had migrated to it like a bug to a light, booted footsteps heavy against Angela’s tile floor.

Jack’ was a sight to behold.

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Day Thirty (Jimin angst)

Request: “Jimin is the reader’s husband and he asks a divorce. Reader asks for a month to spend with him and promises to let him go after that” - from anon

Originally posted by suga-com

Word count: 6.3k

Genre: Angst


Day one

“Please,” you begged. You were on your knees, clinging to him pathetically. It felt like he was stealing the future from you. There was no hope left it your body. You needed to stop him. He was pulling your whole world out from under your feet.

“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be,” he said.

“Who is she?” you asked, your voice distraught.

“It doesn’t matter.” His voice caught a little this time, as though he was finally getting upset.

“Jimin, please, please, I love you so much,” you pleaded. You held him tighter, like that would somehow hold your marriage together. But you could tell that his mind was made up. You were powerless.

“Please let go of me,” he said. You looked up at him. His eyes were closed. He couldn’t look at you.

“I’m your wife,” you said, your voice laced with desperation. “Don’t I get a say? Why do you get to decide that it’s over?”

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Pretty

You and him had been friends for years.

Your mothers were best friends throughout high school and college, so naturally you were around each other from birth. You’d seen each other through the good and bad. You were inseparable. He was your best friend, your first kiss (at 12 years old, you both just wanted to see what it felt like and decided to use each other), your other half. Him and you. You and him. That’s the way it always was.

You were often teased by other friends about your closeness with him. Constantly affectionate with one another; kissing cheeks or hugging waists. You never questioned it. He was familiar, comfortable. That’s the way it always was.

He was always a magnetic, it came naturally to him. People just gravitated towards him. He was consistently pulled to you instead. You watched as your crowd of friends cheered him on while he chugged a beer. He glanced around and met your eyes, seeing you sitting at the bar with a full drink. Excusing himself from the crowd, he made his way over to you.

“Oi, love! Wut’re ya doing? Supposed to be getting drunk with me, yeh?”

He’s grinning at you with his perfectly straight smile, eyes cloudy from alcohol while still bright just from their natural color. He was beautiful and that was never lost on you, often having moments of just admiring his beauty. This being one of those times.

You laugh at him. “Don’t think anymore can get as drunk as you are right now. How many in are you?”

“Not even drunk yet, love. I’ve only had 2 beers. I plan to have many, many more and I plan to have them with you.” Raising his hand to catch the bartender’s attention, he ordered another beer for himself. “What’s with ya tonight anyway? You a’right?”

Truthfully, you were just exhausted. Only tagging along on this night out because you couldn’t resist him and his persistent begging. You longed for your sweet, soft cotton bedsheets and 3 fluffy pillows.

“I’m fine. Just tired. Not all of us have massive energy like you.” you reply to him.

He laughs. “Not massive energy, just tryin’ to drink away my problems and what not”

The bartender sits his beer down in front of him. Muttering a thank you, he turns towards me more, “Care to join me?”

You look at him with confusion. What problems could he possibly have? You decide to ignore his comment, you catching the bartender’s attention this time. “Martini, please.”

He smiles at you once again, proud of himself for enticing you to down drinks with him. “There’s ma girl!” he says.

An hour later, it’s past 1AM, and you were both far from sober. Standing outside the bar, holding onto each other for support, you tried to catch a cab home.

“Stooooooop!” He yells at a passing taxi. Far too loud but far too drunk to care. “Neva’ gonna stop for us, love.”

“Wanna just walk? I mean, my apartment is like 3 blocks from here.” You say. You’ve never been one to wait and the cold night air wasn’t helping the waiting situation.

“Sure, let’s gooooooo!” He yells again, grabbing onto your shoulder for leverage.

Him staying in your apartment was never a weird thing. He slept there often, almost more than he did as his own apartment. He even his own side of your bed.

Stumbling into the door, he throws his shoes off by the coffee tables and dives onto the couch. You chuckle at him and heads towards the kitchen for two bottled waters.

“Here drink this, you’ll need it in the morning.” handing him the bottle. He looks up at you with red, squinty eyes and says “What an angel you are.”

You roll your eyes, opening your own bottle to down the cold liquid. “What can I say?”

Suddenly he sits up, looking at you with the tiniest smile. “You look pretty.” reaching over to touch your cheek, “H’ve yeh always been this pretty?” his words slurring together.

You laugh. “Well, I have always had this face.” Without thinking, you lean into his touch. His hand moving more towards the nape of your neck. “Pretty much stuck with it.”

“It’s a nice face, I quite like it.” He trails his other hand down the bridge of your nose. “Like ya lips too. Always ‘ave.” His fingertips running over your cupid’s bow.

You stare at him, observing his actions. “Is that so?”

“D’ya remember when we were 12 and we kissed each other in my room?” He lets out a snort, “Tried to be sneaky because our mothers were just downstairs.”

You remember the memory quite well, it being one of your favorites. You were both so nervous but he did everything he could to make your nerves go away, cracking a joke before it happened to make you laugh. “I remember…”

“Don’t have to be sneaky now, do we?” His fingers now running along the length of your collarbone. Touching you so lightly, you could barely feel it. “We can kiss all we want, can’t we?”

“You are so drunk.” nervously laughing, you pull his hands away from your neck. “Don’t even know what you’re saying”

“I know exactly what i’m saying, love.” He now replaces his hands with his lips. The feeling of them, igniting something in you you’ve never felt before. “Know exactly what i’m thinking too.”

Scared of what his answer may be, you cautiously ask, “What are you thinking?”

Looking you dead on in the eyes, he answers with, “Thinking of how i’d love to make you cum, love.”

Choking on noise in your throat, you look away from his eyes. What is happening? What is going on right now?, you think. This can’t be happening.

You quickly realize that it is in fact happening when he grabs you by the nape of your neck once again and lightly brushes his soft lips against yours. “Let me kiss ya, please…..been dying to all night long.”

Had he really? Your best friend had been thinking about kissing you all night long?

You simply nod your head and his smooth lips are against yours in no time. His lips moving slow, taking his time. You move your hands into his soft hair, tugging a bit as he deepens the kiss.

“So pretty, love…..so, so pretty.” He says after pulling back for air. “Gonna let me kiss you all over? Make you feel good? Make you feel pretty?” His hands running across your chest in a silent plea for permission.

“God, yes. Yes. Make me feel pretty.” He moves his lips to your neck, while his hands lower to your belt buckle. Unraveling it from your belt loops, he pops the front button open, slipping his warm fingers into the band of your underwear.

“So wet already, ‘aven’t even touched ya yet.” You barely have time to be embarrassed before you feel his fingers on your most intimate place. Your best friend. With his fingers in your jeans.

“Don’t tease me, please.” You whine, desperate for him to touch you more. He grants your request, slipping a finger in, pumping slowly enough that you feel the ridges in his middle finger.

You moan. “Thought you were gonna kiss me?” He looks at you with a smug smile, adding another finger as he replies, “Where do ya want me to kiss? Tell me.”

Known for being teasing in general, you don’t know why you didn’t think he would enjoy being a tease in the bedroom. “You know where I want you to kiss me.”

He kisses your cheek. “Here?” He moves to kiss your lips. “Or here?” Moving down to your stomach, “Oh, I know. Right here?”

Bucking your hips towards his mouth, he places a kiss on your clothed center. Earning a moan, he looks up from between your thighs, “That’s the spot, innit?”

“Yessss” you moan, unable to hold it in. “Kiss me there, please.”

“Anything for you.” he says, pulling your dark jeans from your legs, your underwear long with it. He places your foot on his shoulder, kissing the inside of you thigh.

He takes a light lick at first, making you clench. The tip of his tongue giving attention to your sensitive folds, before lowering his head and attached his lips to your nub.

“Shiiiit” you moan once more, giving up at holding them in at this point. “That feels so good.”

He adds his finger back into the mix. Your muscles clenching at the feeling of such pleasure. You were close and he had barely started.

“You taste so good, wanna stay down here for days.” You meet his eyes, and you remind yourself to take a mental image of this moment for future references. He looks beautiful, he looks comfortable, he looks at home between your two thighs.

His finger speeding up, and his mouth attaching to your most sensitive area. You feel the familiar burn in your stomach approaching. “Fuck i’m gonna c-cum, oh my god.”

Sucking even harder against you, he spurs you on, “Come on, give it to me. Cum for me, beautiful.”

You eyes roll back in your head, your ears suddenly going deaf. You can’t hear him, all you can feel is the hard wave of your ecstasy crashing over you.

You feel him pet your forehead as you wind down from your high. Feeling his sweet kisses against your cheek. “Was I pretty?” you ask, grinning lightly.

“Fucking beautiful when you cum, love.” He says, grinning back. “So fucking pretty.”

LoS Part 1: Snippets from Tumblr

From tumblr:

1.  “Actually, it’s short for Maximum Lightwood,” said Magnus. “As in the most amount of Lightwood you can have.”

2.  Far below them the world spun by, a patchwork of summer-gold fields, green hills, and luminous, winding rivers of blue and green. It was beautiful, but Julian could not take his eyes off his brother. So this is the Wild Hunt, he thought. This freedom, this expanse, this ferocity of joy. For the first time, he understood how and why Mark’s choice to stay with his family might not be an easy one. For the first time he thought in wonder of how much his brother must love him after all, to consider giving up the sky for his sake.

3. And even odder, when Mark and Kieran had come into the library, Kieran had gone immediately over to Max and picked him up, delighted by his blue skin and his tiny horns.Max had stuck his hand into Kieran’s wavy hair and pulled. Kieran had just laughed. “That’s right, it changes color, little nixie-like warlock,” he said. “Look.” And his hair went from blue-black to blue in an instant. Max giggled.“I didn’t know you could do that on purpose,” said Mark, who had always thought of Kieran’s hair as a reflection of his moods, uncontrollable as the tides.“You don’t know a lot of things about me, Mark Blackthorn,” Kieran said, setting Max down.Alec and Magnus had exchanged a look at that, the sort of look that made Mark feel as if they had reached a silent and agreed-upon consensus …

4.  “You’re going to have to learn to live with it,” Jules said. “Even if it horrifies you, Emma. Even if it makes you sick. Just like I’m going to have to live with whatever other boyfriends you have, because we are forever no matter how, Emma, no matter what you want to call what we have, we will always be us.”

5. They threw their weapons down and hurled themselves toward the row of horses, one after the other — Livvy leapt at Julian, throwing her arms around his neck. Mark flung himself from his horse and landed to find himself being hugged tightly by Dru and Tavvy. Ty came more quietly, but with the same incandescent happiness on his face. He waited for Livvy to be done nearly strangling her brother and then stepped in to take Julian’s hands.And Julian, who Kit had always thought of as an almost frightening model of control and distance, grabbed his brother and yanked him close, his hands twisting in the back of Ty’s shirt. His eyes were shut, and Kit had to look away.He had never had anyone but his father, and he was sure beyond any words that his father had never loved him like that.

6. “Clary, what are you not telling me?”There was a long silence. Clary looked out toward the dark water, biting her lip. Finally, she spoke. “Jace asked me to marry him.”“Oh!” Emma had already begun opening her arms to hug the other girl when she caught sight of Clary’s expression. She froze. “What’s wrong?”

7. There was a long silence. Magnus sighed. “I have to hand it to you,” he said. “I never thought Jace and Clary would be topped by anyone else in terms of insane, self-destructive decisions, but you all are giving them a run for their money.”“I really had nothing to do with this,” Kieran pointed out stiffly.“I think you will find many poor decisions led you here, my friend,” Magnus said. “All right, you — all of you — wait here. And don’t do anything stupid.”He strode out of the room on long, black-clad legs, swearing under his breath.“He’s getting more and more like Gandalf,” said Emma, watching him go. “I mean, a hot, younger-looking Gandalf, but I keep expecting him to start stroking his long white beard and muttering darkly.

8. There was a commotion atop the pavilion, and a single blast from a horn shattered the murmuring quiet in the clearing. The gentry looked up. A tall figure had appeared beside the throne. He was all in white, salt-white, with a doublet of white silk and gauntlets of white bone. White horns curled from either side of his head, startling against the blackness of his hair. A gold band encircled his forehead.Cristina exhaled. “The King.”Emma could see his profile: it was beautiful. Clear, precise, clean like a drawing of something perfect. Emma couldn’t have described the shape of his eyes or cheekbones or the crook of his mouth, and she lacked Jules’ ability to paint it, but she knew it was uncanny and wonderful and that she would remember the face of the King of the Seelie Court for all of her life.He turned, bringing his face into full view. Emma heard Cristina gasp faintly. The King’s face was divided down the middle. The right side was the face of a handsome young man, luminous with youth and beauty. The left side was an inhuman mask, gray skin tight and leathery over bone, eyesocket empty and black, mottled with red scars.Kieran, bound to the tree, looked once at the monstrous face of his father and turned his head away, his chin dropping, tangled dark hair falling to hide his eyes.

9. When Emma came out into her bedroom, wearing sweatpants and a tank top and rubbing her hair dry with a green towel, she found Mark curled up at the foot of her bed, reading a copy of Alice in Wonderland.He was wearing a pair of cotton pajama bottoms that Emma had bought for three dollars from a vendor on the side of the PCH. He was partial to them as being oddly close in their loose, light material to the sort of trousers he’d worn in Faerie.If it bothered him that they also had a pattern of green shamrocks embroidered with the words GET LUCKY on them, he didn’t show it. He sat up when Emma came in, scrubbing his hands through his hair, and smiled at her.Mark had a smile that could break your heart. It seemed to take up his whole face and brighten his eyes, firing the blue and gold from inside.“A strange evening, forsooth,” he said.Emma put her hands on her hips. “Don’t you forsooth me.”

10. “It can’t last,” Emma said, staring at him, because how could it, when they could never keep what they had? “It’ll break our hearts.”He caught her by the wrist, brought her hand to his chest. Splayed her fingers over his heart. It beat against her palm, like a fist punching its way out of his ribcage. “Break my heart,” he said. “Break it in pieces. I give you permission.”

11. “I have always needed you, Kieran,” Mark said. “I have needed you to live. I’ve always needed you so much, I never had a chance to think about whether we were good for each other or not.”Kieran sat up. “That is honest,” he said, finally. “I cannot fault you there.”

12. Cristina spread her hands apart in bewilderment, and winced. Mark’s expression turned to one of concern.“You’re not in pain?” he said.“No,” she said. “Are you?”“You’re near me,” he said. “There is no reason for me to hurt.”

13.  “I know.” Mark brushed his lips across her forehead. Cristina could feel his heart pounding. “We’ll figure it out. We’ll fix it.”

14.  Kieran sat up rather reluctantly. The waves of his hair had lightened to blue; he turned around, and leaned back against Mark, rather as if they were on horseback and Mark was behind.

15. Kieran shook his head. “I cannot do it,” he said.“Kier —“ Mark began angrily, but Kieran had his head down, like a beaten dog. His hair fell, sweat-tangled, into his face, and his shirt and the waist of his breeches were soaked in blood. “You’re bleeding again. I thought you said you were healing?”“I thought I was,” Kieran said softly. “Mark, leave me here —“A hand touched Mark’s shoulder. Cristina. She had put her knife away. She looked at him, levelly. “I’ll help you get him over the wall.”

16. “Not one of my best,” said Magnus, to Kieran. “I apologize — I’m not a big fan of your father’s.”“My father does not have fans.” Kieran leaned against the edge of the table. “He has subjects. And enemies.”“And sons.”“His sons are his enemies,” said Kieran, without inflection.

Paranoia | M

“Does it look like I want to be stuck with you for the rest of my life?”

Précis; Because waking up beside the one you have always despised isn’t something that you thought would ever actually happen.

Note: Since this post was eaten awhile back, I had to rewrite it..good thing my memory is A1 lol. *whispers* this is hella revamped so if you read it before..it’s 85% different | Words ➳ 11k

Genre & Warnings: Fluff, humor and minor angst. O h, & light smut. ((: {ft. Jungkook} | enemies to lovers au

➳ paranoia ; suspicion and mistrust of people or their actions without evidence and justification.


It was the tinkling of ice that rummaged within your glass of liquor that you debated whether to drink the contents and regret it the day after or to deny the free offer the bartender had given you; to try their new bottle they had promptly started to sell within the specific bar. Your eyes narrowed towards the softly fizzing contents inside your glass, scrutinizing the bubbles as they dispersed after floating about the liquid for more than a few seconds — having wasted their purpose as they popped small amounts of gas within the air. You were so entranced, giving yourself thousands of reasons why drinking at that moment shouldn’t even be debatable to notice the bartender laugh under his breath.

“It’s not going to kill you, you know.” He said, shaking a blender cup before he started to pour someone else a glass of alcohol.

You pursed your lips, glancing to your phone hoping you would receive a text back but to your dismay, you had received nothing. “It may not kill me,” you started while you softly flicked the glass with your finger as the crushed ice began to dance with one another, “but it will ruin my life.”

He hummed, resting his elbow on the counter and towards your sober state of mind, sliding the cup a little closer to you. “But it may also give you something to live for.”

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it ain't me // dylan o'brien

Summary: Dylan doesn’t realize how much he loves Y/N until it’s too late

Requested: no, based off of this song

Pairing: Dylan & Y/N

Warning: yes, mature language, themes and smut

Masterlist

The envelope had remained untouched on the counter for nearly a week.

Every time he looked at the stupid piece of white paper an immense pain clouded over him like he lived in Seattle and there was no chance of him ever seeing the sun again.

The only thing she had left behind was the letter and a cardboard box with his name scribbled across the front in her messy handwriting.

The two objects had been taunting him for the past week, surely collecting dust by now.

As he took another sip from the bottle clutched tightly in his hand, the cool amber liquid provided him with a small amount of relief he was craving.

Extending his legs onto the coffee table, he squinted his eyes as he flipped through the channels, the only source of light in his dark apartment being that of the muted television he had been staring at for the past 3 days.

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It’s Hard Enough - Cooper!Reader X Jughead Jones

Originally posted by betty-and-jughead


Hi love! Could I please request a fluffy Riverdale imagine where the reader is Betty’s little sister by a year who receives the same pressure from their mom, but hides it well from her sister and everyone else, when she is actually completely overwhelmed and stressed out to the point where she’s having an anxiety attack and Jughead or Veronica helps her?

Just because I love him, I chose a Jughead x Reader prompt. But, anon, if you want one with Veronica please message me!!! And maybe…if you want a Part Two (?)

It’s hard enough being a Freshman at Riverdale High, but you had an amazing older sister who put your mother’s standard too high. Betty is an amazing sister and you love her, it’s just that everyone loves her. After Polly went away and Jason went missing, things started to go further down hill for you. Your mother put unneeded pressure on both you and Betty, but Betty handled so much better. She broke free from your mother’s poisonous ways and started doing things for herself. This left you alone with the overbearing woman and no where to go. You managed to hide the damage your mother was inflicting upon you quite well. So well in fact that your sister and her friends thought you were just fine. The first day back to school, that changed.

“That’s really great Archie!” Betty said, shooting the redhead the most adorable heart eyes. You nodded in agreement as you listened to Archie's’ music demo. You were about to speak up when everyone at the lunch table turned their heads. “Can I sit?”

You turned and saw a very pretty Sophomore standing near the table. “Veronica! Yeah, sit!” Betty said, giving her a sweet smile. Kevin moved over, allowing you to make room for the girl to sit next to you. “What song is that? It’s really good but I haven’t heard it before.”

“It’s Archie’s demo.” You said, and the girl looked at you in confusion. Betty laughed, “Sorry, Veronica, this is my little sister Y/N. Y/N this is Veronica, she just moved here from New York.” Veronica gave you a kind smile and a hello which you tried to copy as best you could. You just weren’t feeling it today. Veronica must’ve picked up on it because her eyebrows furrowed slightly. “Yeah, I thought we’d have to pretend to like it but, it’s actually really great.” Kevin said causing Archie to smile softly. You smiled a little too, happy that at least one person you knew was doing something good in their lives. “You are alright?” Veronica asked while Kevin and Betty discussed Archie’s future in the music business. You just turned to look at her and with no answer, you got up and left the table. You felt tears gathering behind your eyes as you walked past Cheryl Blossom’s table, you heard someone in their group mutter “freak” and you suddenly were pushed over the edge. You picked up your pace and walked quickly back inside the school. You darted towards the nearest bathroom. You felt eyes on you and saw the Sophomore from your writing class watching you. You just walked faster to the bathroom and when inside, you locked yourself in a stall. The weight of everything that had occurred was finally crashing down on you and it was hitting hard. You felt light headed as your mind replayed the conversation of the future you had with your mom, the pressure for success she put on you because God forbid she had another broken daughter. Veronica’s simple question brought all of it back, the family drama that occurred with Polly and then Jason’s disappearance. You were far from alright, but the thought of telling someone that felt more scary than the pressure itself.

You managed to pull yourself together enough where you stopped crying, and got ready for your next period. When you would see your sister and her friends in the hall, you’d just say you had a stomach cramp or pain and went to the nurse. They’d question you and Veronica would be skeptical, but you’d smile and lie your way through the day.  


You told Betty that you had a group project due in a few days and that your group was meeting up at Pop’s. Of course, being the good sister she is, let you go off on your own. “Just text me when you get there and when you need a ride, okay?” You nodded and gave her a fake smile. “I love you Y/N, be safe!” You walked off towards the diner, happy that now you didn’t have to go home for a little while longer.

The diner was basically empty, minus a few usual patrons. You ordered some fries and sat in a booth in the corner. You looked outside the window and saw the rain drops fall against the glass. It was a soothing distraction, taking your mind off the current situation just for a few precious moments. The silence was interrupted by someone sitting in the empty side of the booth. You turned your head quickly and saw the quiet Sophomore from early today. You just stared at him and his odd hat, and he stared at you just the same. “You’re Y/N Cooper, I saw you earlier today in school. We have Writing class together.” You nodded, suddenly getting nervous. “You’re Jughead Jones.” You said, equally as monotone as he did. “I’m not normally one for caring, but what happened today, right before lunch ended?” You swallowed hard at his question, and he saw your unease. “You looked very, very upset, that’s why I ask.” You felt a tear slide down your cheek at his sudden kindness. You wiped it away as quickly as it had appeared. “Everything going on it’s…taking a toll on me, but I’m-” You stopped talking, not trusting your own voice to continue. Jughead seemed to notice and didn’t say a word. He just waited until you composed yourself and continued. “I’m,” you looked into his eyes for a split moment and saw that there was no fooling him, “not fine.”

You found yourself opening up, just a little, to the mysterious boy before you. You mentioned the pressure your mother put you under, that derived from what occurred with Polly and Jason. From there, he started to talk about the summer, the Blossom twins, and how he remembered your older sister. “Polly was very nice. Said ‘hi’ to me even when I didn’t even look at her.”

“That was the type of girl she was.” You said, trailing off. You missed your eldest sister and you knew that Betty did as well. “Maybe,” Jughead started, slightly hesitant, “you should talk to your sister Betty more.” You stared at him quietly as he continued, “If she was under the same pressure she might be able to help you deal with it. It’s just an idea.” He said, and you felt your lips twitch up into a small smile. “Thank you.” Your phone screen flickered on and you saw the time. You hurriedly got out of the booth and stood. “My sister is going to be here soon.” He nodded, and made his way out of his side of the booth. “I’ll walk you out.”

The two of you waited under the rain-guard outside the diner in a calm silence. For some reason you turned and saw him looking at you. “You don’t have to stay. You’ve done enough for me.” He shook his head and looked towards the ground, a small smile played on his lips. “I’m just going to leave you alone when you feel this down.” You nodded, your heart beating a bit faster than before. “Thank you, again.” You whispered quietly, he turned to face you once more. “If you ever need to talk, to someone that isn’t your sister, you can find me in the library at lunch time.” You gave him a soft smile once more and saw the headlights coming from down the road.

“I’ll see you around, Jughead.” You murmured, but he caught your hand before you walked away. “I hope you smile more.” He said in a hushed tone as he slipped a piece of paper into your hand. You looked a his face, his gaze hidden slightly by his dark hair. He pulled away and with one last glance, walked back inside the diner. You darted to Betty’s car through the rain and shuddered when you got inside.

“Get buckled.” She said, “How’d the group project go?” As you finished buckling your safety belt, you turned back to the diner and saw Jughead typing away at a laptop through the window. From a distance, it looked, almost like, he was smiling. You turned to face forward and sighed. “It went pretty well.”  

Won’t Let Go

Title: Won’t Let Go

Summary: When you return to the bunker with Sam, you realize how shaken Dean is after everything that has happened. All you want to do is comfort him but he ends up promising you something you never thought he would.

Author: deanssweetheart23

Characters: Dean Winchester x reader

Word count: 1063

Warnings: Angst. Mentions of blood and death. Spoilers for the episode 12x22 “Who We Are”. Bit of fluff because let’s be real, we all need this.

Author’s Note: So. The two hour finale. It killed me. And episode 22? Also killed me. Jensen’s acting killed me. I’m just completely dead right now, okay? So, I had to write this because my Deanie Beanie deserves all the love and comfort in the world *clears throat* *pulls herself together*

Right. This is set right after the last scene of the episode, meaning right after that group hug the three Winchesters share. The gif used is not mine. You can find it here

Enjoy <3 


The steady sound of running water overwhelmed your senses as you bonked your head against the shower door, washing away worries and fears and that little voice in the back of your mind that told you it was impossible for you to be there, to be back in the bunker again, alive and safe and almost unscathed.

Breathing deeply, in and out, you wrapped yourself around a towel, and got out of the shower slowly, eyes already darting towards the fresh scars and wounds covering your skin.

You should be used to it by now, but the thought of dying, of leaving this world, even in a blaze of glory with Dean and Sam next to you, had scared you more than you’d like to admit.

In and out.

Running your fingers through your hair, you let the towel drop to the floor and reached for your underwear, then slipped into one of Dean’s flannels, mind drifting to him almost intuitively. You’d only seen him for a few moments after you and Sam had returned from your mission, but you could tell that, whatever he’d seen in that dream sequence inside Mary’s head had hurt him. Really hurt him, even though he’d never say that out loud.

And, God, you worried about him.

In and out.

Soon enough, you were in the room you shared with Dean, only to find him sitting on the edge of the bed, holding what you knew was a picture of himself and his mother in hand.

Your heart broke.

“Hi there.” You whispered, leaning against the doorframe.

He looked up then, green eyes lighting up just a bit as he registered your presence.

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Frustrations

A Sam & Dean x Reader / smut

HAPPY SMUT APPRECIATION DAY!

A/N: Here is my contribution for Smut Appreciation Day: Vol. 2. I can’t believe it’s been a year since the first epic day. I want all of you to tag me in your filth while I’m at work today, and I promise I will read ALL of them when I get home tonight. Please let me know what you think. Happy reading (and masturbating)!

Word Count: 3,615

Warnings:
- smut. this is very graphic.
- if you don’t like reading about sexual situations, abort now.
- this is a threesome and can also be viewed as a polyamorous relationship between Sam, Dean, and reader.
- there is no wincest in this fic.
- language.
- always wear a condom, kids!

Tags: (at the end)

*gifs are not mine.

The three of you were covered in mud from head to toe. This particular hunt had gone a bit south, due to the unexpected rainstorm that had decided to fuck with your mission. Dean protested the entire way home about the state his interior was currently in, constantly pestering both you and Sam to keep your boots off the floor. Although you’d accomplished what you’d sought out to do, all of you were bickering back at forth at one another like children the entire ride home.

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