#but at the same time i suppose that means i did something right

[miwiheroes]

Hii

I am a mileven shipper comoletely open to byler, so I watched the lawyer vid

And all the things are pretty convincing but...I don't think Mike was jealous in the airport scene, because then he would have known the painting Will was doing was for him, but instead, even Finn confirmed Mike was clueless about it, so maybe Mike was just...idk....distant from Will and only was trying to rebuild their friendship, remember that he tried to call Will and Will never called him, so maybe he thought Will was mad at him and that's the reason he acts that way, plus Cara said thah you only see a friendship evolving so uhm- idk, ty for reading this and I hope you can adress this "doubt" I have

Hi!

El said in her letter 'I think there is someone he likes, because he has been acting 'weird'", which is for the benefit of the audience's view of Mike's emotions later on.

That's the first mention of the painting, and it's already established that it's an object with romantic intentions (but it's to the audience). So when the viewer sees Will holding the painting in the airport, they get the inkling that Will likes Mike, because it's for him, and he's been acting weird about it.

As for Mike's feelings about the painting.... you're not supposed to know.

Let's lay out the facts of the painting storyline here:

He doesn't want to hug Will at the airport.

He panics when he sees a painting that he has been told is is maybe for a girl.

He pretends to ignore Will all day and is overly affectionate with El (but then the viewer finds out he has actually taken notice of everything he's done).

He is annoyed when Will accuses him of not reaching out.

He feels like he lost Will.

When Will has more confidence in his relationship with Mike he takes the painting with him in his bag.

When Mike finds out the painting is for him he is amazed.

When he finds out that 'el commissioned it' he's confused.

From the Rink o Mania fight, we find out that Mike has been paying attention to Will all day and claims that it ruined the whole day. We also see him offended that Will's annoyed he didn't call, and he's offended that Will didn't call. He asks 'why am I the bad guy?' as if to accuse Will of doing the same thing that he's being accused of.

So, back to the original point about him being jealous. Yes, he is. He saw that Will had made a painting, and then he asks nervously what the painting is (the tone of his voice makes it sound like he already has some idea, but just wants confirmation). Will then brushes it off.

I don't think his non-hug and the painting are linked, I think the reason he didn't hug him is because he didn't want to feel something yknow. He romanticises any sort of interaction with Will, and he doesn't want to show his true feelings in front of everyone.

When Will brushes it off, he is instantly no longer interested. Miscommunication occurs, because while Will never said 'it's not for you', Mike assumes it's not for him because of the way that Will doesn't bring any attention to it, and makes it seem unimportant. The reason he's jealous is because yeah, he did just get confirmation that El could be right.

SOOOO when Will attacks Mike for not calling, Mike gets angry because he's like 'well you did the same thing by moving on with someone else' aka painting for someone else . (Will giving Mike his drawings has always been their thing as well, so it hurts even more that its not for him this time). That is why he later apologises by saying 'I feel like I lost you'. It is his explanation for why he got annoyed at him in Rink o Mania. The 'I feel like I lost you' basically means he was jealous and a self-pitying idiot (his words lmao), and has decided to own up to things and say that Will didn't deserve that. That was why he got angry in the first place. Because he felt like he had lost Will to someone else. So yes he was jealous.

To make this romantic.... is easy. El in the beginning could have easily said he's painting it for someone, maybe he's painting it for a friend, but Mike heard that it's specifically for someone Will likes, so the fact he feels like he lost Will to someone in a romantic sense, means that he also wants him romantically. He never gets this possessive when Dustin or Lucas get girlfriends.

Now, when the painting gets given to Mike again: He realises it is for him and gets super excited. Will doesn't need to tell him explicitly it's for him, because it's a painting of their DND characters.

But when Will said that El commissioned it, we can see the weirdness and the uneasiness on his face, because he's having an internal conflict that the audience cannot see. And again, WE ARENT SUPPOSED TO OKAY

Finn Wolfhard was also confused about this interaction, asking the Duffer Brothers why Mike's so clueless here. (he said this at a con or interview or something) He's also said in the past that Mike does not know about Will loving him. When asked, the Duffer Brothers responded with: "Don't worry, it'll pay off in the end". Meaning we will eventually know what Mike was thinking/ Mike will find out the truth. And the fact it's being dragged over 2 seasons and left for the final one, means it's important.

oof okay sorry that was such a RANTTT AHH but seriously, he was definitely sad about Will making the painting possibly for someone else, shown in his anger in the Rink o Mania fight, and the fact he said he thought he had lost him as a reason for his anger.

As for your comment about Cara? That is not what she said. You're saying that she said 'You only see a friendship evolving', which is not what she said.

She says "Mike goes on his own journey... and Will is not ready to grow up and leave that friendship." then she says, "So I think in season 5....' which Noah looks at her very suspiciously about, so she says something else.

She then says (keeping in mind the Season 5 comment), "Cause I know that as an actor, you're thinking about things as you're approaching it from an actor's perspective" THEN SHE SAYS "But i think from a story perspective, you just see like a friendship evolving" "People come apart and they come together"

Then Noah begins to say "And I will say that..." and then goes "No im not gonna say anything."

What does this mean? Well, she's saying that as actors, they know what is going to happen to Mike and Will in season 5. But from the audience's perspective, they may only see a friendship evolving. In season 5 that might change. She's not saying 'oh they only have a friendship' no no, she's describing the fact they're changing, and describing what the audience likely sees and what the audience may be confused about. Also this is a FRIENDS TO LOVERS ARC,,,,, of course they are sometimes going to be described as having a friendship.

and dont take the actors words as gospel! they were put on the spot anyways and dont have time to figure out everything they wanna say

[rosyhoneydew]

Ahem…. I am (not entirely) sorry for what I am about to do. But amnesia fics are my most absolute weakness… 🥹

🏥🏥🏥🏥🏥🏥🏥🏥🏥🏥🏥🏥 (12)

Buuuuut also 👀 💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥 (8)

🤗🫶🤗🫶🤗🫶

hehehe thank you becca!!! I hope you like these snippets!! 🫶🫶

Bucktommy Amnesia Fic (🏥):

Evan is back. He curls his hand meekly around the door to Tommy’s room. “Hey,” he says. Tommy raises his eyebrows in lieu of a response. “I just talked with your doctor, he said you’re about to get outta here?” Evan walks all the way inside then, leaning against the far wall like he’s trying to be as nonchalant as possible. “Sounds like it.” “That’s great, Tommy.” He smiles a little, so tight it pulls taut across his face. “Umm,” he starts again, “you should probably know then that we- we live together.” Tommy’s head whips back to look at Evan. “You serious?” “Yeah. For 5 months now. I’m looking for a new place,” he says quickly. “It’s just taking me a little while.” He rubs at his neck sheepishly. “We hardly saw each other anyway, with our jobs, you know? And you have the guest room so…” Tommy’s brain feels more scrambled than it did yesterday. He doesn’t want this guy hanging around his house. He doesn’t know this guy. Except, he does. He knows him well enough to take him out for dinner, to fuck him, to ask him to move in, to make him his emergency contact. “I know it’s a little weird,” Evan says. “I can see if my sister’s couch is free if-” “It’s fine,” Tommy interrupts. “I’m supposed to make my life as normal as possible right? This is normal for me now, I guess.” Evan nods, eyes wide.

Tommy Free Use Fic (💥):

It was close to 9 by the time Evan walked through the door, and Tommy felt his heart jump into his throat. Talking probably was the better option. He couldn’t be sure Evan even felt the same about last night and here he was hoping he could simply bend over the counter and offer himself up. Evan was probably tired. Maybe he never wanted to do that again. Shit, Tommy had let himself get really carried away here. “Hey,” Evan said as he shut the door behind him. “Hi, sweetheart,” Tommy responded, accepting a quick peck. Evan hummed. “Smells good in here.” He placed another quick kiss on Tommy’s lips and moved to pull away when Tommy’s hands tightened their hold on Evan’s arms. He didn’t quite mean to do it, but he’d been thrumming with need all day. Not just arousal, though he felt like he could get hard just from the sight of Evan tonight, but something deeper. A need for connection or closeness. A need to be needed, to be filled. The thought that he might have to let go of Evan, even just while they ate, sent an unpleasant roll through his stomach. “You okay?” Evan asked with genuine concern on his face. Tommy nodded quickly, opening his mouth to speak before snapping it closed and pulling Evan to him tightly. Evan takes in a quick breath, arms grabbing onto Tommy’s back. “What is it, Tommy?” Maybe if Tommy had spent the day clearing his head he’d have words to use, but as it is, he squeezes Evan closer, fitting his still soft cock into the lower part of Evan’s belly, and rubs himself there. “Oh,” Evan breathes out. “You wanna fuck me, baby?” Tommy shakes his head. No. “No?” Evan asks. “What do you want? Want me to fuck you? Open you up nice and sweet? Hmm?” Tommy pulls away then, keeping his eyes low and turning around to pull his jeans down, hold himself open and show Evan. Look, he wants to say. Look at what I did, for you.

Make Me Write

[celebritybodyswaps]

The Great Friends Shift: Haven Lough & Gibson Avenue

Part 2

Haven’s Pov

I hate being in Gibsons body. Now i know why he was so envious of me and my height. I hate being short.

Well at least Gibsons body isn’t ugly. But i wish i wasn’t this short. Well i guess i have to go hang out with Gibson i mean Haven and Brandon now.

Gibson’s Pov

Wow ive really been enjoying Havens body. Its everything ive ever dreamed of. I mean im not short and im hot. I mean look at thesr abs.

Dont you just want to touch them. Well i better get ready since im going out with Haven i mean Gibson and Brandon.

Brandon’s Pov

Today’s going to be a great day!! I get to hangout with both my friends Haven and Gibson. We decided to meet ip outside a mall and we were going to go shopping and then have a sleepover at Haven’s house.

The only thing ever since we started hanging out Haven and Gibson have been acting weird like I was talking to haven but then he said I’m nit haven I’m Gibson then i asked him about it and he shrugged it off as an accident. Same with Gibson he wouldn’t respond until i said Haven. I decided to talk to Haven and ask him about it.

Haven why are you guys acting weird? Did something happen that i dont know about?

No Brandon nothing is wrong.

Well when I say your name Haven you dont respond but when i say Gibson you respond. Why?

I dont know really i just feel really tired i think thats it.

Okay i suppose.

I didnt really belive Hayven but i felt tired so i decided to go sleep since Givson was already asleep but he did seem mad all day for some reason but i thought he was just having a bad day so i decided not to question it. Well i guess it’s time to sleep.

Brandon fell asleep that night but little did he know things were about to change a lot.

When i woke up i felt very tired but i decided to go use the bathroom but when i walked in i saw Gibson staring back at me. Thats when i screamed!! I realized Gibson wasn’t staring at me i was looking in a mirror i was Haven.

Thats when i saw my body walk in and then Gibson. They started at each other and then looked at me.

Thats when i realized we had swapped bodies.

Guys why am i in Haven body i asked.

Its complicated haven responded Gibson.

Look we me an Gibson swapped bodies last night but we didn’t want to tell you but now im in your body. Sorry Brandon.

Wait so im in havens body. Whos in my body?

I am im gibson.

And so that means that haven is in your body gibson. Right?

Yes Haven is in my body.

What will we do now i asked.

There is nothing we can do Gibson i mean haven said. We just have to live our lives hoping we swap back.

Well i don’t mind your body Haven i actually like being a but taller now and a little bit thinner. I mean look at this fine body am i right. I said with a smirk.

Yeah i guess so replied Haven in Gibsons body. I mean i guess i like my body but it will be a bug change now being way shorter. Said Gibson sadly and angrily.

Well personally Brandon i like your body. It’s not too short or too tall it’s just right. And you have an athletic and attractive body. So i think i will do just right.

Well im off to basketball practice.

As soon as brandon left he thought about always wearing his sports clothes that he get from uni. He cant wait to be a popular person at school and most of all he cant wait to stain all of brandons clothes with white stuff iykyk;)

Well after Gibson left in Brandons body the other two guys decided to use the bathroom and shower but little did they all know they would be exploding with white stuff at the same time if ykyk

The End

If you have any requests for which freinds should be next please send a dm or an inbox

[nomoreusername]

What Truly Matters

Pairing:Minho x female reader

Summary:No matter how bad Minho's jealousy gets, he'll always end up remembering what's actually important.

I get it on a surface level. Y/N helps out with basically every Greenie. Answering questions with a lot of patience, checking in on them, eating dinner with them if they looked lonely. She was just sweet in general.

She’s just been a lot sweeter to this one. Probably because he never stops asking questions. And in typical Y/N fashion she didn't mind telling him.

He’s seen with Chuck a lot and sometimes Newt. Chances are if he wasn't with them though, he’d be with Y/N. It didn't seem to matter that she was a Runner. It didn't matter that despite having the same job our time together was limited. Her attention was his.

Tonight was supposed to be better though. It's Greenie night, and we always spend just a little bit of it together. Just enough to make up for how little we get to see each other. Even though it's not a ton it's enough to keep us stable. I assumed she would care about that. If we can't have a steady relationship why even have one in the first place? It would clearly be better to go our separate ways at that point.

Tonight was supposed to be better.

As I found myself still sitting in the dark by myself, it was obvious it would not be better. It was actually worse now. I didn't know that was possible before this point.

She has stayed with Greenie. She had stayed before the fight, had watched him during it, celebrated when he won and remembered his name, and until basically the end of the night. She had stayed with Greenie.

And in doing so she had completely forgotten about me.

Fine. I know where I stand now, and it certainly isn't with her. If Thomas means more than she can have Thomas.

Standing up, I stormed off to my hammock, my arms crossed over my chest as I glared at absolutely nothing. Even if there was someone to glare at, I wouldn't care. I don't care about anything at this point. She can have her precious Thomas, but I’ll be damned if I fall second to a Greenie.

♡ - - - ♡

I woke up early for one reason and one reason only.

I’m avoiding her. I don't want to see her. I don't want to speak to her. I don't even want to think about her. As far as I’m concerned, she can stay the shuck away from me.

Unfortunately, she had been up early too, trying to make excuses for not spending Greenie night with me. She apologized profusely, swearing it would be better next time.

Yeah right. With the way things have been going, I don't even think there can be a next time, something I was more than willing to let her know before I started my section, not letting her reply. I don't even think she could if she tried as she stared at me with wide eyes, opening and closing her mouth before her lips started to quiver as she realized the gravity of what I was telling her.

I tried to pretend that wasn't haunting the back of my mind. The image of her heartbroken and shocked face wasn't something I wanted to stick with me.

Still, it played over and over in my head, taunting and torturing me. No matter how badly I didn't want to think about what would most likely lead to a breakup, my brain was determined to make me recognize how much it hurt.

I didn't bother with lunch. I won't be able to stomach anything. I just sat on the ground, wishing that things had played out any way but this.

As I was wallowing in pity, I heard faint cries. The hair on the back of my neck stood up as I glanced around, listening in for the direction it was coming from.

Staying dead silent, I stood up, walking as quietly as possible so I could find out where to go and if I should go. Creeping to the end of the Maze, I looked left and right, determining two things as I did.

It was coming from the wall right beside me.

The cries belonged to a girl.

There's only one girl in this place. That's how it’s been for so long, and even if she’s not mine anymore, I could never leave her behind. I could never not follow her to the end of the world, even if I used all my will to resist her pull.

The same pull that led me around a corner and in front of her.

She was sitting on the ground, holding her bloody leg. Her shoulders were shaking as she sobbed, her face stained with tears.

“Y/N,”I breathed out, rushing to her side. She kept her gaze on the ground as choked cries left her. Placing her palm to her eyes, she hid her tears as best as she could.

“We’re going to the Medjacks,”I said,wrapping one arm around her shoulder and the other under her leg. She didn't object as she met my pick her up, grasping my shirt as she sniffled, burying her face in my chest.

“I'm sorry,”She got out, her voice cracking.

“Don't worry about that right now. We just need to get you better,”I said firmly, pulling her closer to me and doing my best to ignore her blood dripping into the stone with small plops, staining the already tense place.

I don't care about her and Thomas. I don't care about the argument. I don't care about what I said. Maybe I will after this is over, but all that matters right now is that she's okay. No matter what happens to us, her waking up tomorrow is the most important thing in the world.

[theramblergal]

When writing a single word has become like pulling teeth, it's so fucking annoying. This took much longer than it should've, and it's not even my normal level of quality. This is goddamn agony.

*deep breath*

Anyways. Putting this under a cut because it's super long and most of my followers probably aren't interested.

@mrs-loitersack might you be interested in perusing this, friendo? It's a silly fix-it of the final fifteen in Good Omens. If the Metatrash hadn't made that stupid offer to Aziraphale.

The door to the bookshop closed shut. 

Oh, that bell. Crowley had heard it so many times: that sweet cadence, that exact same pitch, announcing the entrance of someone into Aziraphale’s bookshop. He had suspected for a long time, that it was in fact the exact same bell from Opening Day; now as to how exactly Aziraphale acquired that bell, well, that was an entirely different matter—

Distracted.

He was getting distracted.

Fuck. Was he really going to do this?

Now? 

He saw Aziraphale approach him from the corner of his eye. Crowley didn’t turn. He stared unseeingly at the little canvas in the corner. His heart was pounding in his chest. He was breathing raggedly. Which was stupid. He was a demon; this body—this, this… corporation was only a vessel. He was above all of this.

But Nina’s raised eyebrow greeted him from the corner of the canvas.

“You never say what you’re really thinking.”

Oh, for God’s sake. For Satan’s sake.

He yanked his sunglasses off his face and turned to face Aziraphale, who was smiling at him, hands nearly clasped together.

The words came tumbling out.

“Look, I suppose, um… I’ve got something to say.”

He still couldn’t raise his eyes to meet Aziraphale. They trailed the wooden floors, the books stacked rather haphazardly around, Aziraphale’s outfit, and then: his eyes. His Angel’s eyes. What was their colour? He had never been able to determine. Stop getting distracted, and look at him, a voice inside him hissed. Look at him while you say the words you haven’t said… ever.

“I know we ought to be talking about—it’s probably best if I start doing all the talking, you do all the listening, cause if I don’t start talking now, I won’t ever start talking, right?”

He was blabbering.

Crowley could see Aziraphale was excited. About something. Probably whatever the Metatron had said to him, but that could wait. 

He was about to say the things he’d been thinking about since Before. Before everything began. And he knew that if he shut his mouth, he’d never be able to muster the courage to say it again.

Here goes.

“Yes, so—”

He watched as Aziraphale took a deep breath, still smiling, as though he was willing his excitement away to listen to him. Crowley faltered for a split second.

I never deserved you, did I?

He released a sharp breath.

Words. They were words. He could say them now; Heaven and Hell had finally left them alone, for good (he hoped). It wasn’t a sin; they wouldn’t be punished. 

They were words.

Just start, the voice inside him whispered.

Right. But where exactly was he to start? Whatever they were, whatever they had… it had started long before anything Began. How was he to put into words the adoration and all-consuming devotion he felt towards Aziraphale when it had blossomed when words didn't even exist?

“We've known each other a long time. We've been on this planet for a long time. I mean, you and me.”

He gestured nervously between him and Aziraphale, voice failing as he tried to swallow whatever was stuck in his throat. Aziraphale’s eyebrows furrowed the tiniest amount, his lips parting slightly, belaying his confusion at where this was going. Crowley counted himself lucky to have had enough time spent observing and cataloging Aziraphale’s microexpressions to be able to tell what he was thinking at any moment.

Always so expressive, Angel.

“I could always rely on you. You could always rely on me.”

The Thing with Job. Their Arrangement. The French Revolution. 1827, 1941. 1967, whatever the Hell that year was. The Arrmagedidn’t. 

“We’re a team, a group. Group of the two of us.”

Friends. Partners.

All the words they’d been dancing around for all these millennia. But to Aziraphale, who’d worn the same outfit since the 1800s, who had once said, eyes flitting around his Bentley, in that gentle voice that Crowley so adored, “You go too fast for me, Crowley”, to Aziraphale, who moved so slow it was practically a fucking wonder they’d managed to grow so close in six millennia: it was all Crowley could say.

“And we’ve spent our existence pretending that we aren’t.”

His voice wavered. 

“I mean, the last few years, not really,” he managed, eyes flitting around the bookshop, hand making a vast gesture that really didn’t mean anything. 

He was breathing through his mouth now, tears gathering at the edges of his eyes, not enough to blur his vision but enough to heat his gaze. The only thing Crowley could hear was the ticking of the clock behind him. 

He was going to say it.

He had to say it.

“And I would like to spend—I would like to spend the rest of whatever time we have not pretending.”

Crowley’s eyes, which were, up until this point, unable to look in Aziraphale’s direction, were now fixed on him. Aziraphale was breathing heavily too, eyebrows furrowed but mouth set in that exact way which told Crowley he was scared. Confused. Yet happy, too.

…perhaps this had not been a bad idea.

Crowley allowed himself to consider the idea that his affection was not wholly unreciprocated. But as soon as the thought appeared in his mind, he knew it was not the whole truth. Aziraphale did love him. Back. It had always been true. 

“...Angel?”

“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale breathed, the skin around his eyes crinkling and lips stretching in a smile that was worth all of the pain Crowley had gone through in all his existence. 

Aziraphale closed the gap between them and all Crowley could see was the blue in his eyes. Or was it brown? Green? 

Who cared? Whether it was brown as the final assemblage of dust and gas that built up the Pillars of Creation, as the humans had named his little creation; whether it was blue as the surface of a lake that reflected Earth’s atmosphere; whether it was as green as he demanded of all his houseplants: what did it matter? He’d loved Aziraphale all the same.

For all this time that he’d known Aziraphale, he’d never been close enough to determine the exact colour of his eyes. 

Now they were. Face to face.

Tears had gathered in the corner of Aziraphale’s eyes. 

“I think I’ve always known it deep down, Crowley. But I’ve been too much of a fool to have recognised it. I…”

His fingers came up to cradle Crowley’s face. Aziraphale’s hands were not as soft as he’d expected them to be; the reader’s calluses had made their home on his fingertips, especially his thumbs, and there was a faint one near the base of his thumb, from the grip of a sword. The touch was like coming home, Aziraphale’s grasp grounding and reverent, as though Crowley were something even near holy.

“If Gabriel and Beelzebub could do it, go off together, then we can,” Crowley could barely get the words out, so choked up he was. “Supreme Archangel of Heaven and Grand Duke of Hell, if they could do it, then why not us, Angel?”

A single tear slid down Aziraphale’s face. Crowley watched it, his own fingers involuntarily reaching out to wipe it off. It was the purest thing Crowley had touched since the Holy Water. Angelic tears were the closest he’d get to holiness without being burned, and that too because Aziraphale willed it so.

“I’ve been blind, Crowley,” Aziraphale said, after a brief stretch of silence, still cupping his face. “There always has been an us, hasn’t there? I’ve just spent so long denying it that it hurts to say.”

He leaned in closer.

Crowley could feel his breath now, the gentle cycle of inhale-exhale that kept their corporations running. It was intimate, dangerously so.

“I love you,” Aziraphale breathed the words.

A sob caught in Crowley’s throat. It was like the sun breaking through the clouds after a long rainy day, like absolution and liberation; Aziraphale loved him. Him, the Serpent of Eden, the perpetrator of the Original Sin. Aziraphale, the Guardian of the Eastern Gate, wielder and gifter of the flaming sword, who was everything light, good, holy: that angel loved him.

Six thousand years and countless years Before had never prepared him for this. 

Aziraphale leaned in. Crowley stayed where he was, frozen and held in place. Their breaths mingled.

Aziraphale kissed him.

Kisses were a curiously human behavior; it was humanity’s meaning all wrapped up in a single gesture that was hard to put into words. It was everything he’d dreamt of, conjured in his imagination and yet more. Later on, Crowley would never be able to describe it. It was divinity in its simplest and purest form, redemption for his Fall, the love he’d lost when he’d made his choice. Aziraphale chose him. Was actively choosing him now, every moment their lips were pressed against each other’s.

“We’re not pretending any more, Crowley. I promise you,” Aziraphale murmured against his lips. Crowley only pulled him closer.

When they finally broke apart, the part deep within him that had pined these six thousand years and counting was, finally, quiet. 

Aziraphale laughed wetly. 

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” the angel mused out loud, and Crowley brushed his cheek absentmindedly. 

“Nah, Angel. Not one bit.”

A moment of silence.

“Well then, may I tempt you to a breakfast at the Ritz?”

“Tempt me all you desire,” Aziraphale smiled, interlacing their fingers as he tugged them towards the door of the bookshop. “Your longest-waiting temptation has finally been accomplished, after all. So a little bit of a balance: I get to treat you well.”

And Crowley had nothing more to say.

Heaven didn’t matter, Hell didn’t even factor in. 

All that was there (finally) was them. 

Together. 

A nightingale sang, in the bustling streets of Soho, and it was only heard by them.

[xanothersideblogx]

Chat what the Fuck

[fideidefenswhore]

Yet, even Chapuys, who gives us this information, says earlier in the same letter that ‘there had been… talk of a new marriage for this king… which rumour agrees well with my own news from the court of France, where, according to letters [I have] received, courtiers maintain that this king has actually applied for the hand of Francis’ daughter’. Chapuys himself therefore does not connect up the rumours of a ‘new marriage’ with Jane Seymour. In early April, Jane was still little more than a lady whom the king was pursuing. At best, in accordance with the conventions of courtly love, she was the lady whom ‘he serves’ – a telling phrase. At worst, she was a passing fancy, whom Henry may have hoped to make his mistress. Chapuys certainly didn’t think much of Henry’s choice. He described Jane the day before Anne’s execution as ‘no great beauty’ and ‘not a woman of great wit’; he implied that she was unlikely to be a virgin, and reported that people said she was inclined ‘to be proud and haughty’. Yet, by this point, the world had changed, and with it, Henry’s intentions towards Jane. It is highly improbable that before Anne was considered guilty of adultery, Henry had seriously begun to plan to make Jane his wife.

1536: The Year that Changed Henry VIII, Suzannah Lipscomb

"I hear that, even before the arrest of the Concubine, the King, speaking with Mistress Jane Semel of their future marriage [...]"

[unproduciblesmackdown]

speaking of, was remembering like i think i heard parts of defying gravity in the wild ever but i know popular & uhh. loathing from someone's showtunes playlist & then it's like oh yeah i know Of that one finale duet b/c i knew you i have been changed for good b/c they & a third party who were besties would be like okay if either of us die the other one will sing just one of those parts at their funeral & i'm like when you guys have hourlong conversations in here with me 7 ft away not included i sometimes have a contribution & say it during a long organic pause & nobody responds b/c you filtered me out....in parallel / affinity with being queer (& also not knowing that at the time, half a lifetime so far ago) where it's like okay i don't even want to get in on what you've got going on right now or be involved with that ever but it makes it quite Apparent i'm on a different & lower tier here

[puppmeo]

Have you ever been assumed to be romantically attracted to someone and even just the thought of that makes you want to throw up . Anybody

[applejarjar]

My Boss: you're taking too long to do things, if you run into issues tell me immediately

Me: ok, will do

My Boss: so how are things going, did you make progress on the thing?

Me: I'm having issues, the only way I can get it to work is if I do X

Boss: we can't do X anymore

Me: well in that case I cannot do the thing and need help

Boss: how about you mess with the thing some more until it works and then come back to me

Me *internally*: I just told you I cannot do the thing no matter what I try but you want me to continue to screw around with it and then come back to you later to cry for help when I've already made it clear that I'm incapable of completing the task without assistance and need help now >:[

Me *externally*: ok, I will keep working on it

[amberwings]

I… feel… like… a… little… zombie!!!

[mostly-imagines]

So This Is Love

jason todd x fem!reader

aka you show each other what love is supposed to be like

4 in 1 blurbs

warnings: section 1: close-call panic attack for j, mentions of ptsd for j // section 2: implied sexual activity // section 3: mild angst w comfort // section 4: implied ptsd for j

He feels like his heart might burst through his chest.

The nightmare wasn’t anything unusual for him, but it did feel particularly vivid tonight. It was more of a memory than anything, though. That same one that plays on a loop in his head throughout the night the more he tries to push it away during the day. It was the last thwack of the crowbar that had him jolt awake in bed.

You shift in your spot next to him, opening your eyes to see his rattled state. If he’d been in a clearer frame of mind he would’ve lied to you. He would’ve expertly leveled his breathing and told you everything was fine and to go back to sleep.

But instead, he looks over at you with wide eyes, chest heaving and shaking like he might start hyperventilating at any moment.

You shoot up from the bed, instantly on alert. This isn’t the first time he’s had one of these nightmares around you, so it’s not hard for you to guess where this is coming from.

“Jay? What’s—what do you need?” You know better than to try and touch him unprompted right now, you’ve panicked enough yourself to know that sudden contact only makes it worse.

“I—I can’t, I—” Now he really looks like he’s about to lose all control of his breathing.

You sit up further, moving onto your knees. “Here, let me—can I see your hand?” you ask gently, holding your own out.

He extends it to you without question, a tiny act of vulnerability that he couldn’t have dreamed of doing in this state before he met you.

You flip his hand over, palm-up and start tracing lines over it in the moonlight. You’re looking at his hand quite intently like there’s something very important on it. It’s enough to make him question what the hell you’re doing. 

“I can read palms.” You tell him, simply. 

“What?” His voice almost breaks, like he’s right at the edge of tears. 

“Yeah, my friend taught me. I can tell the future and everything.” You look up at him, fingers not stopping their trailing. “Do you wanna hear yours?”

All he can do is nod.

You smile and start to inspect his hand carefully, tracing over calluses and a few tiny scars. You draw your finger across the short, deep line parallel to his fingers.

“This one…see the way it curves upwards right there?” He nods. “That means you’re very resourceful and ambitious. Like a leader.” His breathing starts to slow as he watches you, trying to focus on what you’re showing him in the dim light from the window.

“And this one,” you trace the line that curves downwards in the middle, “This one says that you’re strong and stubborn, which I can confirm,” he huffs out a laugh. It’s little but it’s genuine. “But it also means that you’re resilient. You’re built to overcome things and bounce back even stronger because of them. Which I can also confirm.”

He leans forward, resting his forehead against yours. He takes in a deep breath, watching you draw patterns across the base of his palm.

The sensation soothes him in a way that he frankly didn’t know he could be soothed. He figures he usually can’t, except when it’s you. He tries to match your breathing, syncing up with you. If anyone else tried to get this close to him when he was on the verge of a panic attack they’d get punched, at best.

But you…you always know how to help him. He’s considered in the past that he did something really right somewhere down the line and you were sent to him as reward. He’d racked his mind for hours of every good thing he’d ever done, trying to find one that could explain your presence in his life. For anything that could explain why he deserved you. He poured and poured over every memory he could dig up but couldn’t find any good he’d ever done that surmounted to a single piece of the good in your heart.

There was a time when he would’ve thought—when he did think that you were only in his life to be taken away as soon as he felt safe. That would certainly be in line with previous experiences. But you showed him quickly that you have this way about you…it makes those loud thoughts in the back of his head shut up and just listen. Listen to your words, your breathing, your footsteps, your laugh…anything he could. Because it turns out, when he listens, he feels safe. 

He’s quiet for a long time, contentedly watching you work. He notices that at some point you’d stopped tracing the lines and began drawing designs instead. 

He breaks the silence after several minutes, softly commenting, “You don’t know how to read palms.”

“No, I do not.” 

But you continued to leave your invisible art on the palm of his hand just the same, both of you taking comfort in the sound of the other's breathing and the soothing feeling of each other’s skin.

The radio plays lightly in the background, surrounding your night with soft ambience. You’re working at the cutting board with tomatoes as Jason leans against the counter next to you, having just finished getting the pasta set up on the stove.

His hands find your hips, resting them there as he watches you work over your shoulder.

“Watch your thumb.” He comments when the knife gets a little too close for his liking.

You shrug him off, “I know how to do it.”

He eyes the way the knife stutters as you cut through the tomato, slicing through not very cleanly at all. “Doesn’t look like it.”

You ignore him, elbowing him gently in the abdomen. He’s joking, but he’s not. The skill level you’re displaying is only above Bruce and slightly below Tim, which is not great.

“Will you let me do it?” he asks you when he realizes there’s going to be no improvement. 

“Fine.” You relent with faux annoyance. 

You switch over to the stovetop, keeping a careful eye on the pasta as it cooks. It’s quiet for a moment as he works, chopping with much more efficiency than you had.  

“You didn’t have to stay here tonight, you know.” You say quietly, still intently watching the stove.

In spite of the music, your low volume does nothing to faze him as he continues his actions, “Why wouldn’t I?”

You stir the contents of the saucepan around. “Well, I know Roy wanted you to go out…”

“Not missing much.” He mumbles, opening up the above cabinet to get out plates.

You lull your head to the side, “Come on, he’s your best friend.”

Jason frowns. “He’s not my best friend.”

You turn your head towards him, “No?”

He meets your gaze, frown consistent. “No. You are.” He says it like he’s confused that you don’t know that. 

“Oh.” You smile, “You’re my best friend too.”

His eyes soften at that, a light smile gracing his lips. He knew that, and he knew you’d say it, but hearing it out loud just…does something to him.

You flick the stove top off, prompting him to on instinct reach for the Marinara jar and crack it open for you. He hands it to you and you accept with a smile, twisting it open the rest of the way as you turn back to the stove. The jar sputters as you open, spitting out sauce.    

“Oh, shit.” You hiss, when the splatter hits your shirt.

He takes one glance at the mess on your shirt and pulls his own shirt off his back. He’s tugging yours off just as fast, replacing it with his. You’ve barely processed what happened as he scans your body, eyes lingering on where his shirt stops at your thighs. “Can you wear this to bed tonight?” He asks, hands running over your waist.

You laugh, “Really?”

He meets your eyes, face serious. “Yes.” He squeezes your hip, “You look good.”

“In your shirt.” You say with a knowing smile.

“In my shirt.” He confirms.

You turn back to the stove to dish out the salsa, his hands skimming around your thighs as you do. He watches you as you work, though rather than watching your hands he’s fixated on the size of his shirt over you and how fucking good you look right now. 

“Or…” He sweeps his eyes over your legs before looking back up at you again. “Did’ya turn the stove off?”

You tilt your head at him, “I did…?”

He grins at you, lifting you up by your thighs til you’re a head above him. “Good.” He maneuvers you over to the counter, setting you on top. He brings your wrist up to his mouth to press a delicate kiss before dropping to his knees.

You’ve been laying in bed for at least three hours, bordering on sleep but never quite falling in. You and Jason had a little spat, though nothing insurmountable, it was still the biggest fight you’ve had to date. You’d tried going out (at night) to see your friend that was having a hard time, and yeah, you should’ve told Jason you were going. It was only five blocks, give or take, but in Gotham at eleven o’clock at night, it’s a risk to say the least.

You should’ve told Jason, you know. But he wouldn’t have let you go or would’ve insisted on putting hold on patrolling to accompany you. You always feel bad when he does that—people could be getting hurt somewhere because you needed your boyfriend to walk you down the street. Unfortunately, it didn’t matter in the end because he caught you red handed before you’d even made it a full block away. Of all the nights for him to come home early, it had to be this one.

He dropped down from the rooftop behind you and scared the absolute hell out of you, and you didn’t even have time to be relieved that it was just him because he was on you in a flash. 

“What the hell are you doing out here?” His voice was hard through the modulator, a rare tone for him to use with you.

“I just—my friend—” he sounded tired and angry, sure signs that he’d really not had a good night so far which was probably all the more reason that you shouldn’t have been out by yourself in the middle of the night.

“What are you—no! Go home. Now.” You would’ve, you really would’ve, but your friend called you crying about her boyfriend cheating on her again and she needed the in person support. 

“Ja—” You’d cut yourself off, “It’s down the street, it’s fine—” He dropped his shoulders in a huff and faced you dead-on. You didn’t need him to take his helmet off to know exactly how he was looking at you.

He dropped down and hooked his arm around the back of your legs, lifting you off the ground with no discernible effort. “Wha—”

He started walking before you were even fully planted on his shoulder, arm wrapping around your legs to hold you in place. 

“Hood! I am so fucking serious, put me down!” You swatted at his back and struggled in his grip, though in the back of your mind you knew it was a pointless effort. Even if you were a match in size, whatever mood he’d been pushed in was enough to guarantee that you had no chance. 

He ignored you, not even pretending that you were giving him any difficulty with your squirming. He marched you back down the block to your apartment, not stopping until you’re outside your door. He set you down in between him and the entrance, digging into his pocket for his key.

He kicked the door shut behind him, finally letting you go. He wordlessly grabbed one of his spare guns and two cartridges of ammo from inside the closet by the door and turned back to you with a firm stance. “Stay here.”

You immediately tried to push past him again, at that point more angry about him dragging you back here than about having to duck out on your friend. He stopped you, holding you by the arms, which led you to respond by raising your voice at him, “Jason!” 

But he didn’t waste any time letting you know how it is, “I will lock you in this fucking apartment. Stay. Here.” Him cursing at you like that was very rare and not a particularly good sign, so through your anger you’d made the decision that it was better to relent, for now. Your posture dropped and you frowned at him resentfully, a visible cue that you were giving in without you having to say it. 

He stayed true to his word and locked the door on his way out, though knowing you could easily unlock it from the inside. You’d trudged into your bedroom, slamming the door behind you.   

Now you lay on Jason’s usual side of the bed, partially because you do miss him, partially because the bed feels a little less empty when you can’t see all the empty space. You know he was just trying to keep you safe after what was probably a rough start to the night, so you feel less than great that you’d yelled at him.

Your dwelling over the memory is interrupted by a quiet creak of the bedroom door. You blink up at him blearily, “Jay?” You sit up, furrowing your brow. You didn’t even hear him come home. “What’s wrong?” You figure he must be hurt to come in here—it’s not unknown for him to sleep on the couch if he feels like he did something wrong or upset you.   

Your eyes attempt to adjust to the darkness, scanning over him for any injuries. He’s out of his armor and in his regular clothes which means he must have showered already. And you know from dozens of nights patching him up that he always tends to his injuries before showering.

This leaves you confused, as you look up at him, waiting for an answer. “I can’t…I don’t want to sleep without you.” He whispers, eyes on the floor. 

You shuffle back into your usual spot near the wall and hold your hand out to him expectantly. You’re still a bit cross with him, but you miss him too much to care right now.

It takes him a second to move, but he eventually lingers away from the door and makes his way to the bed. He takes your hand as he climbs onto the bed, letting go only when you lay down after him, staring up at the ceiling next to him. 

You weren’t entirely expecting him to wrap his arms around you and tug you into his chest. Somewhere in the back of your mind you’d assumed he would lay on his side and you on yours and that would be enough for him to fall asleep with. Instead, he tightens his arms and buries his face into the crook of your neck. You lay there in silence for a couple minutes, both thinking.

“You’re mad.” He mumbles into your shoulder after a while. You know he feels badly about the dispute, you knew it while it was still happening. As hard as he tries, he’s not very good at hiding his emotions. Not with you, anyways.

You shrug slightly. “Barely. I’ll get over it. This is more important.”

He picks his head up to look at you, “I love you. You know that?”

You wiggle out of his grip a bit, making him frown. You use the new space to flip over to face him, before placing his arm back around your waist. You peek up at him, looking him in the eyes, “I do. You know I love you. Even when we fight.”

He looks at you like he’s a bit thrown off by your words. “I’m sorry. It was just…it was a rough night…I—I’m sorry.” He tells you dolefully.  

You shake your head, frowning. “Don’t be. I should’ve texted you.”

“It—yeah. Please. I just worry about you.” He looks so sad and it makes you feel somehow worse.

“I know,” you whisper, “I’m sorry.”  

“Don’t be.” He kisses your forehead, not moving away after.

You feel like you can finally relax and your tense body doesn’t take long to slacken in his hold. Soon after, he does the same, both of you closing your eyes. You feel your heart slow and your mind starts to find a space of peace.    

Jason didn’t get it at first.

Honestly, he didn’t really realize that you noticed things about him that even he didn’t see.

Your neighbor was having their place remodeled and you knew there would be construction going on near your apartment all day.

Jason didn’t really care, planning to bury his head under the pillow and trying to sleep through it. You however, seemed very adamant about getting out of the apartment that day. You’d left hours before the construction crew had even gotten there, telling him it was a nice day out.

It was an alright day, but he let you have your way.

You held his hand as you walked down the street, looking into shop windows and commenting on things you think he’d like.

You led him into a book store excitedly, telling him about how the author he’d been binging had just published something new. He didn’t even know that.

You were browsing the sections, flipping through books as you went. You peered across the shop at a kid holding an absolutely massive pile of books, who was clearly struggling to keep them in his arms.

His mother tried to help him but he shook his head and strided away independently, albeit very slowly. The weight of the books though, did get the best of him, and you could tell by the quivering in his arms that he was going to drop them.

“Loud noise.” You said quickly, seemingly out of the blue. Jason turned to you, confused, before seeing the stack the books splat flat onto the ground. It was indeed a loud noise.

He tilts his head at you, though you’re still busy watching the little boy as he throws his head back in frustration.

“What was that?”

You look at him, “He dropped his books.”

“Yeah, I saw. But why—”

His question gets cut off by the kid bursting into tears, wailing. You turn back to look at him, your gaze getting caught by the new book you’d been telling him about. “Ooh!”

You grab his hand and pull him over with you, smiling widely when you have the book in your hands. The sight of you makes him feel so warm so fast that he forgets about the odd interaction all together.

A couple hours later, you sit outside a cafe and eat lunch together, his back to the road, you sitting diagnal to him.

He’s telling you about the shit Damian got in trouble for at school last week, holding your hand with his right hand and eating with his left.

“He thinks he’s not going to get expelled for pulling shit like that every other week, it’s ridiculous.” He says, tossing his napkin down on the table.

Your smile is wavers as your eyes move past his shoulder looking down the block before widening, “Car—”

The sudden noise startles him enough to make him visibly jump, hand flying to where his holster would be. He looks over at the fender bender, shoulders relaxing.

He turns back to you to find your eyes looking far more worried than they should. You seem to be scanning his face, looking for something and he’s about to ask you what’s wrong when it sinks in.

He does get scared by unexpected loud sounds, doesn’t he? He never really thinks of it until it happens, but his mind is trained to expect gunshots or crowbars making impact.

It doesn’t happen often, but it noticeably takes a little piece out of him when it does.

“You…” he tries, but falters. He’s not even sure he’s processing this right.

He’s never seriously tried to fathom that you love him half as much as he loves you, though love doesn’t feel like a strong enough word. He lives and breathes for you, you’ve become a lifeline he’d been stranded without for most of his life. But now you're here and you’re everything, you’re in his head all the time, in every emotion he feels.

He thinks he’s here for you, that he was brought back from the dead because of you. You can’t possibly understand how much his heart is full of you, he doesn’t understand it himself.

He knows you love him, he’s gotten that through his head. But he can’t get a grasp on the idea that he’s equally matched in the who loves who the most battle.

Do you really care that much about him to go out of your way to keep track of things that might startle him? He knows there’s a million things about you that are in the back of his mind at any given time, but surely you don’t operate that same way with him?

Do you?

There’s this burning in his heart that aches and it only gets stronger when he sees you looking at him like that. So genuine. With care, with love.

He squeezes your hand, “I love you. More than anything.”

The look on your face sinks back into that sweet, adorable look that he’s so used to and it makes him want to scream.

You smile that bright smile and it sends his heart rocketing into oblivion. “I love you.” You squeeze his hand back, “More than everything.”

He feels like his heart might burst through his chest.

[crookedteethed]

18+ -mdni

ᥫ᭡. eiffel tower me, please.

pairing: rafe x kook!jj x fem! reader

warnings: smut (pinv), language, threesome, oral (m and f receiving), drug usage, a little voyurism (if you squint). porn with little plot (as per usual), dirty talk,

⌞ series masterlist ⌝ ⌞ II ⌝

Rafe's fascination with you took place when he saw you fucking your boyfriend, his best friend, JJ Maybank, in the bushes during a Kook party. 

Rafe had been watching you two all night-- he watched as the both of you couldn't keep your hands off of one another--JJ's hand had squeezed your plump ass every chance it got, while your lips always found a spot on his sunkissed skin to smooch whenever the moment was right--so it wasn't a shocker that Rafe was the one to catch you two sneaking off.

For Rafe, it was disgusting seeing you two being all lovey-dovey and shit, yeah, yeah, yeah, Rafe was happy to see his friend happy and whatnot, but secretly, the boy was envious.

I mean, here Rafe was getting the worst neck by Gums McGee while JJ was getting some of the best piece of ass on Kildare Island. 

It's not like you were a slut or anything--Rafe really hadn't known if you were the best piece of ass on Kildare, but the way your boyfriend talked about your sex life when you weren't around sure made you sound like you were--and Rafe had wanted to know if the legions about you were true--like the time JJ had claimed you wrapped a fruit roll up around his dick and sucked it--or that time JJ said you simply let him cum inside of you--Rafe had wanted that, Rafe wanted that with you, because you were something Rafe couldn't have.

Rafe doesn't know why he'd followed you and JJ out to the bushes-- He'd stopped getting the worst head he'd ever received to be a peeping tom. But Rafe swears his plan wasn't to be a peeping tom; how could Rafe not be a peeping tom when he suddenly sees your bare heart-shaped ass--your mini skirt bunched around your waist--bouncing on JJ's cock, grappling in the bushes. Your slit was so little and displayed for him--it looked like it could barely take the penetration. Your pretty moans serenaded Rafe's ears--leaving him in a trance, like a mermaid's siren. You were alluring; how could Rafe not be a peeping tom?

When Rafe had found himself sprouting a boner, and quickly taking care of it in his car, he knew he was in some pretty deep fucking shit.

"I have a proposition for you." Rafe had told Jay, going nose first into a line coke--the boys had been slumming it up the next day, drinking beer and watching the box all day in Jay's new condo he'd gotten for his 20th birthday. 

Rafe then pushed the coke tray to JJ. "What is it?" he said as he followed in pursuit and did the same as Rafe. 

"I get to fuck y/n for one night, in exchange for my dirt bike." Rafe snorted, causing JJ to laugh. 

"You fucking kidding me?" Jay said, wiping the white powder underneath his nostrils. JJ continued to laugh until he realized that Rafe hadn't cracked one smile, meaning that Rafe Cameron has finally lost his damn marbles.

"You do realize that's the dumbest fucking proposition ever, man? You're supposed to propose some shit that I can't go out and buy myself." Jay said. 

"Last week, you said it yourself!" Rafe rebutted. "You said,' My dirt bike is way cooler than yours' ."

"Dude, that wasn't code for: I want your bike in exchange to fuck my girlfriend."

Rafe had been quiet momentarily, reaching over to JJ for the tray and snorting another line. Rafe had needed to hold his composer because ever since last night, he couldn't get the image of you fucking JJ, and Rafe just needed to see it again, but with his cock barely fitting in your pussy instead.

"Ok, what about this," Rafe said, bringing out his inner businessman. "What if I get to fuck y/n in exchange for my Bently?"

Now Rafe was talking, causing JJ's eyebrow to hitch and ears to perk. 

Let's be honest: JJ's father could fund him the money for a new dirt bike if Jay had wanted one. But a new car? Fuck no. Especially since he'd just gotten a new Porsche this January. 

JJ would be a fool not to take Rafe's new and improved proposition.

"Well, when you throw a Bently in the mix, you have yourself a deal, brother!" JJ had shouted, already getting revved up from the coke (and the idea of seeing his girlfriend taking another guy's cock.). 

"But one thing," JJ continued. "We have to say it's a threesome--make it seem like I'm tryin' to experiment or some shit, because she isn't going to agree to just fucking you alone."

In hindsight, Rafe made a really stupid choice by giving JJ his Bently, but as long as he was able to feel you, he didn't care.

So here you were, standing naked between the two hottest blonds on Kildare Island--supposed to be getting into doggy style to let Rafe Cameron fuck you. At the same time, you suck JJ off, all because your stupidly charming boyfriend wanted to try something new in bed, and you can't say no to him when he uses his puppy dog eyes on you. 

But it's not like you weren't totally against the idea--you'd always wanted to know what it was like fucking Kook royalty, Rafe Cameron--you weren't ashamed to admit that. 

Of course, a couple of lines of coke was snorted to get rid of all of everyone jitters, but that still didn't' help your nervousness.

JJ had done all the talking--since, to your knowledge, he was the one to set this shindig up. And because you were JJ's good girl and didn't know what else to do, you did everything JJ told you to do.

"Good girl, now let Rafe see your pussy, don't be shy, princess," JJ spoke so kindly to you, stroking your head softly as you choked on his cock. 

JJ had been very slowly--but harshly fucking his cock with your throat--ever so often, shoving his length as deep as he could go--until you started to gag--then stilling himself and letting your throat contract--while tears and saliva slid down your face. 

You found yourself obeying Jay's words--arching your back more and pushing your ass out to let Rafe view your sopping wet pussy. 

"Shit." Rafe cursed, his thump finding your fold and pushing it back to view the inside of your cunt. "Jay this all your's?" 

"Ain't she a beaut?" Your boyfriend spoke--talking as if you weren't even here--and pushing his cock further into your mouth.

Your eyes watered as you tried to focus on breathing through your nose, JJ's thick length stretching your esophagus.

You start to feel Rafe's fingers probing at your exposed pussy, spreading your folds and teasing your entrance, sending shivers through your body.

"Damn, she's dripping," Rafe marveled, running his fingers along your slick folds. "You mind if I have a taste, Jay?"

"Be my guest," JJ replied, his voice strained with pleasure. "Our good girl loves to please, don't you, princess?"

You whimpered in agreement around JJ's cock, your hips instinctively pushing back against Rafe's touch. You felt Rafe's hot breath on your sensitive flesh moments before his tongue lapped at your entrance. The new sensation made you moan, the vibrations traveling through JJ's length.

"Fuck, that feels good," JJ groaned, "Do that again to her."

Rafe obliged, swirling his tongue around your swollen clit before plunging it inside you. You cried out again, the sound muffled by JJ's cock. Your whole body was on fire, caught between the two men's ministrations.

JJ's fingers tangled in your hair, guiding your movements as you bobbed your head. "That's it, take it all," he encouraged.

Meanwhile, Rafe's skilled tongue was rapidly pushing you towards the edge. He alternated between teasing licks and deep thrusts, his strong hands gripping your thighs to hold you in place.

"Fuck, you taste good, sweetheart," Rafe lowly said to you, acknowledging you for the first time as a person, and not like your some dirt bike, and for some reason, you were about to come from this nearly. 

"I think our princess is close," Rafe murmured, his lips brushing against your sensitized flesh, his fingers pushing inside you, to feel your cunt convulse. "Should we let her come, JJ?"

"What do you think, sweetheart?" JJ asked, tilting your chin up to meet his, mascara finally beginning to crack, and run down your cheeks, JJ kissed you on the mouth, because, fuck, did you look hot like this.

Rafe had no right to kiss you ( a deal made before you all started, a deal Rafe should respect because JJ is his best friend). JJ's kiss to your mouth only made Rafe more envious of JJ, and Rafe decided to take out his anger on you, claiming you didn't deserve to come yet.

Rafe's fingers slowed their pace, teasing you mercilessly. You whimpered into JJ's mouth, hips bucking desperately against Rafe's hand.

"Not yet," Rafe growled, his voice rough with desire and a hint of jealousy. "You don't get to come until I say so."

JJ broke the kiss, looking down at you with a mixture of lust and amusement. "Looks like Rafe's feeling a bit possessive, sweetheart. Think you can hold out for us?"

You nodded weakly, trembling with need as Rafe's fingers continued their torturous dance. JJ's hands roamed your body, adding to the overwhelming sensations.

"That's our good girl," JJ purred, nipping at your earlobe. "Show us how well you can behave."

Suddenly, you were feeling Rafe's raw wet mushroom tip poking at your entrance--and fuck, did his cock already feel thicker than JJ's.

Your breath hitched as you felt Rafe's impressive length plunge deep inside your cunt—his hands gripping your hips as he slowly bottomed out inside you.

You gasped at the exquisite stretch, your walls clenching around Rafe's thick cock. He groaned, his fingers digging into your hips as he held himself still, giving you time to adjust.

"Fuck, you're tight," Rafe growled, his voice strained with the effort of restraint.

JJ's hands continued their exploration, one sliding up to cup your breast while the other trailed down your stomach. "How does she feel, Rafe? As good as you imagined?"

Rafe responded by slowly withdrawing until just the tip remained inside you, then slamming back in with a powerful thrust that had you crying out in pleasure. JJ swallowed your moans with another deep kiss as Rafe set a punishing pace, each thrust driving you closer to the edge you weren't allowed to cross.

"Please," you whimpered as you and Jay caught your breaths--your body jerking up from Rafe's hard thrust into JJ's mouth, allowing you to breath the same air as him--right when you think you've caught a break--Jay's cock is back in your mouth, while you received backshots from Rafe.

Your mind reeled from the overwhelming sensations as you were filled from both ends. JJ's thick length slid deeper into your throat with each of Rafe's powerful thrusts from behind. You struggled to focus, torn between the dual pleasures.

Rafe's grip on your hips tightened as he pounded into you relentlessly. "Fuck, you're taking us so well," he groaned, his voice husky with desire.

JJ's fingers tangled in your hair, guiding your movements as you sucked him eagerly. "That's it, baby," he encouraged. "Just like that."

The room filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin and muffled moans. You felt your arousal building to a fever pitch, your body trembling on the edge of release.

When Rafe's tip found that spongy spot, you made a deep moan in your body that had affected JJ cock, and he found himself cumming in your mouth and on your face.

You were so fucked out of your brain, though, because of Rafe's thick cock; you hadn't noticed when your boyfriend had came, and then left the room, leaving you and Rafe to chase your highs together.

And because Rafe's cock had felt so good in doggy style--you didn't mind seeing how his cock felt when he switched the position to missionary.  

Rafe flipped you onto your back with surprising ease, never breaking his relentless rhythm. His dark eyes locked onto yours as he drove deeper, your legs wrapping instinctively around his waist. The new angle sent sparks of pleasure coursing through you.

From this angle, Rafe could see just how small your slit was in comparison to his cock.

"God, you're incredible," Rafe panted, his muscled chest glistening with sweat. His thumb found your sensitive bundle of nerves, circling in time with his thrusts.

You arched into him, coherent thoughts scattering as the pressure built. "Rafe, I'm so close," you gasped, nails raking down his back.

He growled in response, increasing his pace. "Come for me, beautiful. Let me feel you."

With a cry of ecstasy, your release washed over you in waves. Rafe followed moments later, burying himself to the halt inside of you.

And just as Rafe was cumming, he found himself getting lost in the moment and kissing your rosy red glossy lips, and again, because you were so fucked out, you'd let him. 

As the both of you came down from your highs, Rafe lips stayed in motion with yours, his cock still stuffed inside side you--plugging his and your juices in. He shifted slightly, still buried inside you, and you gasped at the sensitivity.

Your body trembled with aftershocks as Rafe's lips moved languidly against yours. The kiss was rough, passionate, yet tender - so different from your boyfriend's soft demeanor. You found yourself melting into it, savoring the unexpected intimacy.

The kiss between you and Rafe could've lasted forever- if only your boyfriend hadn't walked in, asking his best friend why he was kissing his girlfriend, the last person Rafe should be kissing.

[gravegoer]

Hello, how about a part 2 of being Sevika's boss maybe when they got together or something like that thankyouuu and i love all of your ficss thank you making them hehe

Sevika's Boss ꩜ part 2

hi anon, sevikas boss fanfic got a lot of love a while ago so im happy to write part 2 !! let me know if you enjoyed i threw in some misunderstandings for fun here..maybe kind of angst?? its okay tho you make up very quickly PART 1 , masterlist

You and Sevika hung around eachother a lot, I mean that was normal right? She is your second in command afterall.

Personally, you didn't see a problem with it, and nor did Sevika.

She had grown accustomed to your presence and didn't mind all your small, loving touches and annoying jokes.

And yes, sometimes she went a little overboard for you, like what kind of subordinate stays at their bosses house to tend to them whilst they are injured? Or goes out for drinks every weekend? But maybe your relationship was starting to exceed the bounds of boss and employee.

She has definitely warmed up to you more than she did with Silco. She thinks it was your charming personality, or cute outfits, your smile...

Some people might say you sitting in Sevikas lap while you fixed up her arm might be indecency in the workplace, but you found it to be a simple and innocent task.

But this begs the question, what exactly is your relationship?

This is also a question Jinx was starting to ask herself.

"So uh...whats with you and Sevika?" Jinx asked in an almost singsongy voice.

She flipped her gun around in her hand haphazardly while she was sprawled out on your (Silcos) desk.

"What do you mean whats with us..?" You shook your head, mimicking her movements with your pen.

"I meaaan, you guys act like a married couple or something!" She threw her two hands in the air with a 'duh' kind of look plastered on her face.

You pushed one of her braids to the side to pull out a paper from under it. One of Sevikas reports from a recent trip. Her handwriting was an imperfect cursive. Sighing, you put your face in your hand while you held the paper, staring at it diligently.

Jinx looked at you quizically at your lack of an answer. She sharply pushes the paper down with the tip of her gun, "Hey, are you— Oh," She let out a nasally laugh at the paper, "Damn, you got it bad, huh, toots?"

"What? I have what bad?" You slid the paper away and tilted your head at her.

The blue-haired girl sat up and rested a spindly arm on her knee, "You're so in L word with her." She snickered at you.

"Im in—" Your face flushed at your realization. "I am not in 'L word' with her." You raised your hands to do finger quotes around 'L word.'

"Hmmmm, are you sure?" She teased, putting her gun to her chin and looking up in mock thought "I mean, you practically cling to her, you always walk home with her, and plus you talk about her all the time– hell! You talk to her all the time."

You stared at Jinx, now zoning out in thought. What were you supposed to tell Sevika? Does Sevika even think the same way about you? Would that relationship even be appropriate?

"You know what?" You stood up and pointed in Jinx' face, "Im going to do it—"

She attempted to cut you off with a meek,

"Sevikas—"

"Im going to tell her I love her," You continued, Jinx' half attempt to save your ass fell on deaf ears.

You looked up, finger still in the girls face to make eye contact with a very familiar set of grey eyes. Fuck.

Sevikas gaze faltered, and she cleared her throat, bringing a fist to her mouth, "Um. I came to ask you if you wanted to grab a drink, but it seems like you have better plans."

Holy shit. She didn't know it was about her. Is that good or bad? You only felt a few seconds of relief before Sevika just turned around and walked out. That was bad.

Jinx whistled, still under the pressure of your pointing finger, "You have some explaining to do."

You fumbled over your words before pushing Jinx' forehead back with your finger. "Ughh.. This is your fault."

You drooped back down into the large chair, putting your head in your hand and heaving a sigh.

"Just go tell her while you still have a chance. She's probably going to be moping around the Last Drop," Jinx got up from her spot on the desk, and some papers fell with her.

"That's my queue to leave, though," She hopped out of the office with a little too much energy, probably on her way to cause more mischief.

You sighed and packed up your stuff, picking up stray papers and shoving them into a random drawer on your desk.

Grabbing your bag and slinging it over your shoulder, you pushed open the double doors to your office. It was time to go to the last drop.

poor sevika

Your entrance was signified with the ding of a bell atop the door. Music was playing loudly, and people were swarmed around the bar. Your eyes scanned the nearest areas for Sevika, but as you figures she was nowhere in sight.

She was most definitely in her usual gambling spot. You didn't want to approach her while she was in the middle of a game, so you waited at a nearby table, making sure to stay out of her sight.

You could hear the groans of the men at her table, most definitely losing. Chuckling at this, you watched as a waiter came up to your table asking for your order.

You just asked for a simple whiskey sour, hanging your bag on the back of your chair.

Several minutes (and a few drinks later), you felt someone's eyes on the back of your head. Turning around, you, once again, were met with steely grey eyes. Sevika stood near behind you with her arms crossed. The game had finished.

"You get rejected or something." She deadpanned.

"No—well.. not yet." You turned around in your chair to face her, the metal back of the chair was now settled between your legs.

You held what you thought was your sixth whiskey sour in between your fingers, chin resting on the top of the chair back.

She scoffed at this, turning her head to avoid eye contact. You could have sworn a small blush coated her cheeks. But her frown made you think otherwise, her large forearms tensed before she spoke.

"Oh, so you're waiting for her here."

How cruel of you to profess your love to someone in the place you knew Sevika would be. You probably wanted her to see it, right?

"Yeah, shes already here." You said, still staring at her side profile, tracing the scar on her cheek with your eyes.

The neon lights illuminated her face and brought out every curve and angle. But your thoughts were interrupted by her stern and almost angry voice.

"I should leave then," she started to walk away, but you reached out quickly.

(I dont know why you would do that when she wasn't even in arms length to begin with.) You started to fall forward, you let out a small yelp and held onto the chair, your drink falling onto the ground. You awaited impact, but it never came.

Instead, you were met with strong arms holding the back of your chair up. Sevika was bent over slightly, both mechanical arm and human arm on the metal of the chair. And for the third time, you made eye contact with now very close grey eyes. Her eyebrows were furrowed in shock or frustration- you couldn't tell.

Without another thought, you grabbed her by the collar and pulled her lips into yours. At first, she tried to pull away but eventually melted into the heat of the kiss. She sat your chair back up on four legs, and her elbows lean on the top of the chair, encircling you.

Almost as soon and she relented she pulled away, "What the hell are you doing," She rasped, wiping her mouth with the back of a large hand.

Her lips were still puffy from the kiss, but almost more downturned than before. When you didn't respond she offered a question, "Are you drunk?"

Your lopsided grin told her all she needed to know. She knew she needed to take you home, but she was going to do so reluctantly. Afterall you were going to become someone else's girl, couldn't have her hands all over you like she usually did.

She grabbed you (almost roughly) by the arms and pulled you out of the chair, "How are you going to profess your love now?" She scoffed.

"I just did, was that not enough?" Your words were slurred and you helped her by stepping up with heavy legs.

She furrowed her brows until she came to a not-so-shocking realization. Cursing under her breath she smirked at you. You could almost see the relief wash over her face.

Her thick arm held you by your upper torso as she almost carried you to the doors. She sighed at your stupidness, why not just tell her right away, then you wouldn't have to have gone through all the trouble.

She eyed your glossed over eyes, shaking her head at the dumb smirk that held its place on your face. She could feel the quiver of your body against the cold night wind.

At that she lifted you into her arms, covering you with her cloak. You looked up at her with wide eyes, burying your face in the material. God she wanted to kiss you so bad. But she'd save that for the awkward talk in the morning.

thank you for reading ! yes i see your asks all your fics are on the way I swear !!!! much love

[sinnabarmoth]

The Lads Vs No Nut November

MC: Alright boys, the time is upon us. Who do you think is gonna pass no nut November?

Sylus: Damn it, not this again.

Xavier: No nut November? What is that? We can't eat peanuts for an entire month?

MC: No, Xavier, it means you can't--

Xavier: But I love peanut butter. And does hazelnut coffee count? What are the specifications?

Zayne: This is ridiculous. What is there to gain? What actual person would participate in something like this?

Sylus: Idiots with zero physical appeal I assume.

Rafayel: Sorry MC but I can't risk losing this year. I hope you aren't too disappointed.

Sylus: Case and point.

Rafayel: Hey! Just because I choose to participate doesn't mean anything. If you think about it, I am practicing self control over my baser needs unlike you lot.

Xavier: Wow Rafayel, I didn't realize you liked peanuts that much.

Zayne: Still not what no nut November means.

Sylus: I don't need to practice self control--

MC: Sure you don't.

Sylus: What is that supposed to mean?

Zayne: It means you act like an ill behaved dog any time you are around MC and we all know it.

Rafayel: Maybe the good doctor here can schedule a neutering for you. Then we won't have to worry about prying you off of MC's leg every time we get together.

Sylus: What did you say!

MC: Whoa! Whoa! Break it up! It was just a joke. Please don't take this so seriously.

Sylus: Do you think you all are any better? Rafayel wants to recreate The Bodyguard any time he is in the same room with MC and I’m pretty sure Zayne would change careers to gynecologist just to spend more time between her legs.

MC: Oh for fucks sake…

Zayne: That is wildly inappropriate!

Sylus: So is dating your patient but that hasn’t stopped you.

Xavier: I’m starting to think we aren’t talking about peanuts.

MC: And that’s why you’re my favorite right now, Xavier.

Xavier *looking directly into camera*: I do know what no nut November means, I’m not naive. It just doesn’t matter cause I lost the first day. My…"Halloween plans” with MC ended up stretching well past midnight.

Xavier: But I find it amusing watching the others get worked up. And if they’re squabbling it means I get MC all to myself for the month.

[derealizationns]

"intimacy"

characters - katsuki bakugou x fem reader

synopsis - katsuki’s tough facade crumbles as soon as you two are together, and he loves every second of it.

genre - fluff!!! so much fluff 🥹

warnings - none 🫧

katsuki loves intimacy. he definitely won’t show it, but he’s all for it. that boy is so used to being tough and everything, that it makes him crave those tender and gentle moments.

just imagine simple things like making dinner. the world seems silent, the only things you can hear are the shuffles of yours and katsuki’s slippers and the raindrops hitting the roof of your shared home. bakugou is chopping food on the counter, with you sitting beside him on top of the island, swinging your legs and just observing his movements.

your presence brings him so much comfort, though you aren’t even doing anything special. just the feeling of domesticity makes katsuki experience some weird warm sensation in his chest. he subconsciously smiles at that. it’s a faint smirk, but you still notice it.

after jumping off the countertop, you wrap your arms around his chest and place your head on his muscular back. he huffs with fake annoyance, but in reality, this gesture makes him incredibly happy.

“whatcha doin’, idiot?” he asks.

you roll your eyes at his question.

“i’m showing love to my incredibly strong boyfriend, don’t pretend that you don’t like it.”

at that moment, katsuki shuts up. he can’t lie to your pretty face, that would be cruel, so he just decides to remain silently enjoying your presence and warmth.

some other day, you are lying under the covers with your boyfriend. it’s saturday afternoon, meaning that you two have a day off, just for yourselves. bakugo decided that both of you should watch a movie that just came out, but truth be told, he didn’t even pay attention to it. the boy is simply staring blankly at the tv, visibly deep in thought. you quickly notice his weird behavior and decide to bring it up.

“kats?” you start.

his attention quickly switches to you, bright red eyes staring into yours curiously.

“what’s wrong?” the question falls from your lips.

his expression changes to one of slight shock. perhaps bakugou didn’t realize that he was visibly zoning out, or maybe he just didn’t expect you to mention it. after a few seconds of silence, bakugo finally speaks up.

“nothin’ is wrong, why you askin’?”

you sigh at his words. he is clearly hiding something from you. just when you wanted to scold him for his obvious lie, he speaks again.

“just thinkin’… ’bout how much i love you, i guess…” he starts, but he’s not looking at you anymore; his eyes are fixed on the ceiling. bakugo feels so embarrassed after he says this. the boy silently curses himself for speaking up.

you look at him confused but can’t deny the warm, fuzzy feeling in your chest. katsuki wasn’t the one to express his love so directly, and that took you aback.

“every memory i have with you makes me feel… weird. like, not bad weird, just… puzzled, i guess? i’ve never felt that way, so it’s hard to exp—” you cut off his rambling before he finishes.

“i know what you mean, kats. every moment, even the simplest and most boring one, stirs up something within you, am i right?”

your boyfriend sends you a shocked look. he didn’t expect you to read his emotions so well. you just said everything right! how is that possible? did you read his mind or something? or maybe… it was because those were the same feelings you have…?

“yeah… i think you’re right…” he mumbles, visibly embarrassed by this conversation, so you think it’s time to cut it off.

“but it’s a good feeling, right? like you’re not… overwhelmed?” you ask him worriedly.

katsuki shoots you a look that you think was supposed to be scolding.

“what? no, you idiot. it’s… it’s good, i like it.”

you smile at his words and tuck yourself closer to him, bathing in his warmth.

“that’s good…” you whisper and feel yourself slowly doze off, as bakugou leaves a soft kiss on your forehead.

you sleep soundly, dreaming about every soft and domestic moment you had with katsuki. and there were many more to come.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ kirara’s notes . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

thank you for reading this, hope you liked it! likes, follows and reblogs are greatly appreciated 🤍🫧