#get a sense of humor bud. its not that deep.

[strawberrymilkshakeearrings]

forgot to share this the other day

[shnargo]

(un)lucky? | pigeonholed (pt.1)

pairings: ethan winters x cadou-ified!reader (more on that later lol) warnings: mild descriptions of violence & gore (it is RE8 after all) word count: 759 a/n: so i'm in the process of writing this and frankly have no idea how long this might end up because i decided to begin it on a whim. i have a general idea of following the canon plotline for this series, but i'm open to suggestions and ideas to add :)

-

Its skull all but burst when he unloaded his last bullet into the lycan's head, splattering rotted brain bits and blackened blood all over his hoodie and tan jacket. Disgust sounded in his throat as he wiped as much of it off as he could. You’d think the horror show that was Dulvey, Louisiana was enough trauma for a lifetime, several lifetimes frankly, but the universe had other plans it seemed. So here he was, knee deep in snow, rubble, and miscellaneous gore in the middle of a forest somewhere in Eastern Europe. A shuffling noise sounded around the corner, and he tried not to voice his disdain as he pulled out his knife. Maybe he could get the upper hand on this one if he could sneak up behind it—

A bird. No, not like the crows that cawed at him incessantly when he was walking through the trees, it was a pigeon that was wrapped up in netting, laying pitifully on the floor. It looked like any sky rat he’d seen in the cities, with a checkered pattern on its wings and its dilated eyes. Somehow it hadn’t caught any adverse attention despite its flapping around in its attempt to escape from its netted demise. While it could have been a trap, he honestly just felt bad for it. It frankly looked like it hadn’t the slightest clue of what was going around it, or really of anything at all. He sighed. 

“Hey little guy, need some help?” He knelt over the bird, and it paused in its escape attempt as if acknowledging his voice. However, it soon went wobbling around till it flopped onto its backside. Humor tugged at his lips at how out of place the poor thing was, and he reached down and gently grabbed the net to not startle it. “I’m gonna cut you free, buddy. Try to keep still.” It almost seemed to listen, pausing again, but maybe it recognized the danger of a knife as he went about cutting the bird free. As soon as he pulled the knife away once he was finished, the pigeon jostled about, basically kicking the net off before giving it as much of a stink eye as a bird could before tilting its head at him in classic fashion. “There you are. You’d better be more careful next time, huh?” It cooed back in response, before turning around and walking off… straight into the door of a nearby building. He stared at it, stunned, and he couldn’t keep from barking out a laugh as the bird fell to the side in a daze. 

“What did I just say, bud?” Other than a light nudge of his hand, he did little to help the little guy back up as it came to its senses before flying off. He noticed a little falter in its flight pattern though, some of its feathers were clipped. He had his doubts that the bird would survive, but really he could say the same for himself. He entered the building the bird stumbled into and to his relief, found a generous heap of bullets. Maybe he’d be just fine for a little while longer, and who knows? Maybe he’d come across that silly little pigeon again elsewhere too. 

You could feel the heat fluttering in your chest as your wings just barely managed to allow you to find purchase on a sturdy enough branch. He was an outsider. Mother Miranda always warned you against straying too far, but your curiosity couldn’t be contained. So naturally, she clipped your wings. Luckily (or unluckily?) that resulted in your unfortunate entanglement with that despicable netting, but led to you meeting him. Him. His hands were warm, radiating heat as he helped you to freedom. Strangers weren’t nice, they weren’t supposed to be! So why did he go out of his way to help you? He could have left you for dead, well, to lay in the snow for a few more hours at least. But he helped you. He looked at you with nothing but mirth and kindness in those mesmerizing eyes of his... He even called you a friend, his buddy! That’s why you directed him towards extra supplies in the house, playing dumb so he wouldn’t catch on— but also because you lost your footing after laying about for so long. The wind whistled, sending a cold chill through your feathers, but you allowed it to lead you off the tree and lend some guidance towards the castle. There was a family meeting today, you were certain, and maybe you could help him just a little bit more. 

[glyphreader]

Reaper King (Shadowmoor No. 260, Illus. Jim Murray)

Sometimes, a nice creature design is all you need. There is nothing particularly "deep" about the Reaper King, but it just looks creepy and cool. And then you red the flavor text:

It’s harvest time.

Bam. That's it. Just three words, and they multiply the cool factor. I feel like a 12-year old writing about this card, but it has to be among the top 10 (maybe top 5?) portrayals of a scarecrow character in fantasy. There's no real story or lore behind it (afaik), but it's just such a striking image.

Now, to elaborate and speculate a bit: Scarecrows on Shadowmoor are a bit like robots. They're created by Kithkin and then animated to perform simple tasks, like gleaning or patroling a plot of land. They're not very high tech, often cobbled together haphazardly, and then magic does the rest. I really like how the flavor text from another Shadowmoor scarecrow (Watchwing Scarecrow) tells us this in a humorous manner:

The wings are held in place by wicker rods. The rods are held in place by pure faith.

But because they're so crudely thrown together, many scarecrows end up malfunctioning, running off, or doing other things they're not supposed to do. This is where the creepiness comes in: A creature initially designed to reap grain may just reap you. And even if they don't do anything malicious - the idea of a living scarecrow aimlessly hobbling through your garden at night is kind of spooky in itself.

Most scarecrows are mindless, just (trying to) fulfill the task they were given. But the Reaper King seems to have acquired a sense of self somehow. It doesn't seem like he has a fully functioning mind - but maybe a rudimentary, budding consciousness. It creeps through the woods and fields, picking up an entourage of its kin as it goes along, and when it reaches a settlement - it's not only the crows that are going to be scared this time.

Such perfect halloween vibes. It's unlikely, but I do hope that the Reaper King's lore gets expanded upon some day.

[myshredda]

i think alot about the shredding of the book as allegory. allegory for the fans who want clean answers and consistent continuity. for the idea of dogma that comes with a "book of perfect truths" but then building on that last point with how the entire theme is about "education" and less of what your learning about and more HOW your learning about it. the webseries was very vague and really felt as all budding online art should as throwing things at the wall and waiting for things to stick before cementing those things into cannon and REALLY diving deep. so in going back to the book and why it felt like in retrospect -for me- a statement more then another cruel joke for yellow to suffer, i think of that moment as embracing the art of fan speculation, and the arguments you can get and how that process is so important to learning- more then route memorization of someone else's research/opinions/outlook/dogma can ever show you.

🦖🦴

no EXACTLY I think DHMIS as a show is one that's supposed to be very open ended, like the type of show that will never give you all the answers for little weird moments or even the big weird moments. It's so lose with its structure (in the tv show especially) and the main characters minds are seemingly wiped from day to to day to the point that they don't remember teachers dead on their kitchen floor or even the names of the people they live with!

I highly doubt that Becky and Joe would have made something like the book that Lesley gives Yellow and really have it be filled with all the 'answers' that the characters (or the fans) are looking for! That's why I hate the MatPat style theory videos where everything is taken incredibly literally and they attempt to lay things out in a very linear/binary/realistic way that makes sense to them. And like. That is NOT what DHMIS is at ALL. I think DHMIS is a show about themes, and weird puppets, and british humor, and whatever Becky and Joe and Baker thinks is interesting or cool or reminds them of shows they watched as a child.

The book wasn't going to 'save' them I don't think, just like Yellow's batteries couldn't save him or being able to drive away couldn't save them. It's a metaphor inside a riddle inside a joke inside a bit of commentary about children's media. I doubt we'll ever 'figure out' exactly what the intentions of the creators because they've gone on record saying that "Every fan theory is correct" so there's no reason to try to nail down a concrete storyline because there ISN'T one!!!

[thatonesimpforlegiteveryman]

Hey!! How are you? I've been working so hard this week but I'm here to say I love the way you write baby <33333 you can completely ignore this request, hehe. But what about (y/n) who is just really tired after working 24/7. Given that the ninja don't get paid to save the city and most of them don't want to work (we won't blame them for that). So our (y/n) is the only one working, I think it will be a high paying but hard job because that's what it takes to feed all the ninjas and maybe the guests. And if a ninja arrives tired after a mission, she takes on the responsibility of preparing dinner, getting even more tired. Her day is simple: get up early, clean up, make breakfast for all the ninjas, work, work, work, cook dinner, wash up, and go to bed (maybe even paperwork all night). As long as everyone is happy, she is happy. So imagine our very busy and tired (y/n) and just desperately in love Cole who can't seem to ask her out or flirt?? I think he would take flirting lessons from Kai. But to all these "jokes" she only sighs wearily and continues to work in her room. So when she's given a day off or vacation, Cole will be the only thing she'll be able to see…. and also english is not my native language, sorry if there are mistakes<33333<33<33

A fellow Cole lover <3

Stressed Out

Cole x F!Reader (Kinda angsty but it fluff at the end)

TW- None that I can tell, please let me know if you find any so I can update it ♡

Author's Note- I have no idea how long this is but its clear I have no idea how to write

"Hey y/n? Do you have a name or can I call you mine?". You turn around and just look at who the voice came from. Cole, you expected something like that from Kai, but not from the big, serious, mean-mugging, Cole. "You just said my name, idiot.". You say, exasperated at his random, but not totally unwelcome, attempt at flirting. Normally you would have a flirty joke back, but work was starting to pile up for you and you didn't know how you would handle all the deadlines and the chores at the monastery. You didn't notice the subtle blush that crept across Cole's face once you called him out. He left the room quietly and you wondered if you had said that harsher than you had meant to. As you were finishing the dishes, the guilt began to spread. By the time you had finished cleaning the kitchen, you felt terrible. "I should have just humored him. He doesn't really make jokes like that often." you mutter to yourself, wiping your hands on a towel. You decide to go find him. You take something for your budding headache, and go find him to apologize.

As you approach his room, you hear two voices. Before busting in, you sit outside the door for a moment and write some emails on your phone while waiting for the proper time to interrupt.

"It didn't work Kai. Maybe I should just give up.". Cole sounds hurt, but you could tell he was trying to mask it. 'Ah, this was Kai's idea. That makes more sense.' you thought to yourself. "Come on dude! Sure it didn't work this time, but if you keep trying-" Kai stops speaking abruptly, leaving you wondering what happened. "Wait are you crying? You really love her huh?". What. He loves you? You can't make sense of what Kai just said, your head already spinning from the headache that's grown from a small pain to a migraine. You open the door to find Cole's head in his hands and Kai rubbing his back. "What's going on? Cole are you ok?".

Kai gets up quietly and leaves the room, but its clear that he's standing outside the door. Cole doesn't look up at you. He sighs and apologizes. "I don't want you to see me like this. I'm just going through something right now, but I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I know your busy and all, and the timing of that was terrible, but I-" you stop him in his tracks. You were holding his face in your hands, looking into his deep brown eyes. You had never noticed how beautiful they were. As you got lost in his eyes, he was busy getting lost in yours. Not another word is exchanged between the two of you as you pull is face closer and closer to yours, eventually allowing your lips to connect.

Once you pull apart from each other, you take a moment to look at the beautiful boy in front of you. "Looks like I got to my goal after all." Cole says, looking lovestruck. All you could do is smile before being pulled into another kiss.

End notes- THIS IS SO BAD. If you enjoy it though, I'm glad. Thank you for reading and God bless ♡♡

[adamwatchesmovies]

Harold and Maude (1971)

I’m not shocked that Harold and Maude was not well received upon release. When this comedy gets dark, it’s really dark. Its subject material still has some edge today so you can imagine what it was like in 1971. Time’s been (mostly) kind to this black romantic comedy. There are plenty of laughs and moments of sweetness to be found here.

18-yeard-old Harold Chasen (Bud Cort) is obsessed with death. His spare time is dedicated to faking elaborate suicides so he can shock those who discover his “body” when he isn't attending funerals. After being recognized at several funerals by Maude (Ruth Gordon), a free-spirited, live-for-the-moment 79-year-old, she approaches him. From there, an odd relationship blossoms.

There are points where Maude turns into what can only be described as a manic pixie dream girl (despite the term being coined in 2005). She’s a woman whose quirks never seem to end, whose enthusiasm knows no bounds. She steals cars on a whim and defies police officers without ever facing consequences. It’s jarring to see her get away with so much but if you find that it’s rubbing you the wrong way, hold on. As the picture develops, we learn more about her. No big speeches, just little things you pick up here and there. By the time we get to the end, you’ll see. She isn’t simply a construct made to give Harold a new outlook on life, she’s a fully-realized person on her own.

The bond that grows between the leads is what makes the picture so effective. Initially, it looks like that old cliché that opposites attract. He’s young, she’s old. He comes from a rich, affluent family and she’s down to earth. He’s obsessed with death, she’s determined to feel alive. Once we see them sit down and talk, we learn that actually, they're not that different. They're both overcompensating for something. Harold’s obsession with death is used to remind him of what it would be like if he wasn’t there, and of what he’d miss. Similarly, Maude frequently comments on her upcoming 80th birthday; that beyond it, she doesn’t foresee anything. Deep down, they're both sad characters but in different ways. It’s not some fetish or desperation that brings them together. Had they both been in their 20s, you’d get excited to see them kiss. As is, you may still hope for that but you'll need a bit to get used to the idea.

There are many big surprises in Harold and Maude. They make for the kind of laughs that will have anyone with a morbid sense of humor in stitches. I won't dare to spoil any. Instead, I want to discuss the soundtrack. Cat Stevens's Don’t Be Shy and If You Want to Sing Out, Sing Out (both composed for the film) perfectly condense all of the picture’s emotions within their melody and lyrics. I wouldn’t be surprised to hear many weeping messes leaving the film because of the latter.

Some elements of Harold and Maude are jarring even to those who will be cheering for a septuagenarian to date an 18-year-old. The humor won’t be for everyone. Even so, the picture has a deep emotional impact. The performances are strong and they’re made even better by a believable relationship and the perfect soundtrack. (July 7, 2018)

[haruwrites21]

Top 15 Funny English Friendship Quotes You'll Want to Share with Your BFF

Friendship adds color and laughter to our lives. A good friend understands your sense of humor, appreciates your quirks, and joins you in your madness. Keeping the humor alive in your bond can make your friendship that much stronger. So, why not add a dash of hilarity to it with some lighthearted quotes? Here are the top 15 funny English friendship quotes that are so relatable, you and your BFF will roll with laughter!

"A good friend will help you move. But a best friend will help you move a dead body." - Jim Hayes*

Take this with a pinch of salt (and humor), Hayes' quote paints the extent to which a close friend may go when it comes to offering unconditional support.

"Friends are like condoms, they protect you when things get hard." - Unknown*

Life can throw some unexpected challenges and having a friend as your safety net certainly helps. This quote adds a funny twist to the savior role friends often play.

"I hope we're good friends until we die, then I hope we can stay ghost friends and walk through walls and scare the heck out of pople." - Unknown*

This imaginative quote captures the fun-loving, everlasting bond between best friends – even in the afterlife!

"You don't have to be crazy to be my friend. But it sure helps." - Unknown*

Here's a playful nod to the madness that often complements close friendships. Whoever your best bud is, crazy or not, they're sure to appreciate this!

"I don't know what's tighter: our jeans or our friendship." - Unknown*

In the fashion-forward world of skinny jeans, this humorous quote speaks both to the style-conscious and those celebrating deep friendships.

"Good friends don’t let you do stupid things… alone." - Unknown*

No misadventure is too daunting when you're with your closest pals. This quote is a funny testament to the mischief friends often create together.

"We’ll be friends till we’re old and senile… Then we’ll be new friends!" - Unknown*

This quote guffaws at the inevitability of aging while highlighting the enduring nature of genuine friendships.

"Friendship is like peeing on yourself: everyone can see it, but only you get the warm feeling that it brings." - Robert Bloch*

Bloch humorously conveys the personal joy and public visibility of true friendship. Beware of surprise laughter!

"If I send you my ugly selfies, our friendship is real." - Unknown*

In the era of picture-perfect selfies, this quote humorously validates the comfort level between best friends.

"I was an innocent being once… then my best friend came along." - Unknown*

Who amongst us can deny the slightly corrupting, totally exciting influence of our best friend's antics?

"We are best friends. Always remember that if you fall, I will pick you up… After I finish laughing." - Unknown*

Good friends may show sympathy, but best friends are allowed a giggle first. It's part of the contract!

"We'd be in a mental institution if people heard what we talk about." - Unknown*

Just a fun-filled reminder of the random, most bizarre conversations BFFs often share in private.

"When my best friend and I first met, we were both like, 'You’re really weird.'" - Unknown*

Isn't it amazing how our quirks help forge the strongest bonds in friendship?

"True friends don't judge each other, they judge other people together." - Unknown*

Who better to fashionably critique the world with than your best buddy?

"I get by with a little help from my friends." - The Beatles*

Okay, this one's not exactly a laugh riot, but its simple, heartfelt sentiment paired with picturing your favorite Beatles, surely evokes affectionate giggles.

These are 15 funny English quotes that'll tickle your funny bone, and are perfect to share with your BFF. Remember, laughter is a cornerstone of every strong friendship. After all, a day without laughter is a day wasted!

[raisin-shell]

Hey hey, I’m not sure if request are open but if they are and you wish. Could I get fem reader and Mikey with the following?

75. Vern’s apartment

94. Rough sex

132. “Argue all you want, we both know you belong to me.”

147. “Again. I wanna hear my name again.”

Let my boy let loose and get a little more on the rougher/possessive side!

*SQUEALS* for you ma’am, I shall do my best…. Hopefully. Possibly. Maybe. Ohhhhh fuck I’m nervous 😬 okay okay here we go…

Blow Your Back Out

NSFW/SMUT/LANGUAGE

“A little to the left… yeah, no, the right. No. Port side.”

Vern’s voice guided you and your boyfriend Mikey awkwardly across his new apartment with what you could have sworn was the heaviest damn couch on the planet.

“You got this babe.”

You’d been dating Mikey for several months, falling deeply in love with his youthful charm, energetic, gentle aura and the just plain sweetness of it all that was Michelangelo.

“Lift with your knees babe. You don’t want to blow your back out.”

The two of you lifted the couch one last time before settling it in its final destination. Vern walked over to you both, giving you a wink as he passes by.

“I’d like to blow your back out.”

You snort to this, blame it on your uncanny sense of humor. Vern had been very flirty with you since you and Mikey showed up that morning to help him move his things. He never took it quite that far though. You laughed it off along with Vern all the while not noticing that Mikey was getting 38 hot. Once the laughter was over and Vern was absolutely certain that that’s where he wanted his damned couch, he did what any sensible person would do when people help you move…. Offer free pizza.

Mikey forced a grin and nodded towards Vern, speaking through grit teeth.

“Cheese please. Several.”

He kept it simple while he was literally a frog’s hair away from losing his shit. You easily picked up on the tension, quickly giving Vern your order and shooing him out the door.

“Mikey…”

You begin to turn around, the softness of your body was met by the firmness of his plates and your face turned directly into his as he glared down at you.

“Did you think that was funny?” He asked dryly to see if you’d dare to answer.

“Mikey…. Please don’t be mad…”

His body pressed firmly against yours and the door, the thickness beneath his shorts budding at your stomach…. shocked you?

“You see baby cakes…” his voice deepened into the shell of your ear causing your folds to tingle. “I’m mad but… I’m also horny.”

His hand slipped up to your neck cradling it in a firm squeeze as your knees weaken and your cunt begins to develop a throb. His icy blue eyes glared into yours mischievously, as if he had some master plan in store for you. This caused the dampness to pool in your panties.

“Mmmmm angel cakes. I’ve been wanting to fuck you in this apartment since we got here.”

He growled, hands tucking under your thighs and lifting you up into lap as your legs wrapped around his hips. His lips crashed into yours like slow deep waves. He carried you over to the kitchen counter, setting your bottom there as his fingers curled and dug at the button of your jeans, peeling the tight fabric along with your panties from your body with ease.

“So you wanna flirt with Vern all day huh? I don’t think so.”

His hands flew to your knees spreading your thighs apart as he dipped down and delved his tongue deep within your hot core. Your head flew back, way to preoccupied by the intense sensation to even comprehend the question.

“M.. Mikey…”

Your head softly hit the kitchen cabinets as he slowly pulled and sunk his thick wet appendage deep within your femininity.

“It… it was nothing… I swear it was… oh FUUUUCCKKKK!!!”

Your shrill squeal echoed through the bare halls of the living space, back craning wildly as you felt his fingers spread your sex apart. His lips clamped over your exposed bud rising from its hood as he began intensely suckling. Your body began to jerk and quake just as his tongue started a rhythmic strum against your pearl that nearly sent you over the edge…. Until he pulled away with a loud pop leaving you over-stimulated and needy. He gripped your cheeks, lifting himself back up to face you, his lips only a breath away from yours teased you with the scent and taste of your own essence as he panted sternly.

“Argue all you want, we both know you belong to me.”

He growled deeply, pressing his lips coated with your juices against yours. His grip along your throat intensified as his free hand tugged at his shorts, releasing his thick curled rod. Up to this point you had never seen these types of emotion in him… anger, jealousy…. And the aggression. You began to wonder what Dr Jekyll had up his sleeve for you as he began to slap the thick heaviness of his cock against your wet butterflied cunt with a dark chuckle.

“Mikey… baby please… it was notHING!!!”

Your voice caught in your throat as you felt him fill you, completely bottoming out in one swift jut of his hips that left you feeling so pleasingly stretched that you had forgotten how to form sentences.

“Mmhmm. Who’s laughing now huh?”

He chuckled darkly as his hips began to retract then plunge deeper up into you. Your hands sprawled, reaching for anything to grab onto, fingertips curling madly until they caught their grip upon the pebbled skin of his shoulders.

“Mikey!!! Oh yes yes YES!!!! Fuck!”

You began chanting in rhythm with each of his powerful thrusts, each time he’d plunge deeper pressing past your cervix causing your voice to burst out. At this point he had you pinned between the cabinets and the counter, pounding deep into your body as your essence dripped and drizzled down your bottom no doubt pooling on the top of Vern’s kitchen counter. The slap of your two bodies meeting could be heard over his grunts and your throaty moans and most likely by Vern’s new neighbors. He slid himself from you, a needy whimper escaping your lips already missing the feel of him inside of you that earned you a soft chuckle from your rambunctious Beau.

He lifted you up over his shoulder, giving your ass a swift slap as a eager squeal left your throat.

“You’ve been naughty my angel. More like a little devil I’d say. I think I should teach you a lesson. What do you think?”

Another swift slap to your opposite ass cheek as you squealed ‘YES’ was all he needed to hear before he playfully slung your body over the arm of the couch you two had been moving before. You unburied your face from the cushions and look back at him standing over you from behind with a wicked grin. Another swift firm slap sent a silent scream ripping from your throat as he entered your tight cavern once again, filling you completely.

“Again. I wanna hear my name again!”

His hands flew to your lower back, pressing you further into the couch and arching your ass up even further for his own access as he began snapping his hips into you wildly. Your neck craned back as a shuddering cry left your lungs, eyes rolling back as your mouth finally learned to speak words once more.

“Mikey!!! Oh yes Mikey MORE!! Please Mikey baby… MICHELANGELO!!!”

Your voice began to crack, legs trembling and shaking just as you felt his cock thicken inside you. Each time you’d plea for more he’d cave, giving you well more than you expected and leaving your body so much more overwhelmed than you anticipated. You could feel the band within your belly begin to unravel at the seams, bursting through with such intensity that you could feel your tight little cunt squeezing and gushing around his girth as wave after wave of ecstasy hit you.

He began panting, his grip on your back intensifying as his hips continued their pursuit, plunging and delving deep within the tight grip of your velvety walls. A massive churr erupted from him, he burying his full length inside you while rope after rope of his hot, thick seed began to coat your now beaten womb. A soft gasp came from you as you tried to move, body stiffened and back sore but worth all the pain for what you just witnessed. You’re boyfriend chuckled between his panting, now planting soft kisses upon the back of your neck as you both calmed yourselves.

“No one blows your back out but me my little devil.”

[hollandsmushroom]

A Ring and A Chain

Tom Holland x Reader

Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff and proposals. 

Summary: Tom wants to replace something of yours but comes up with a conclusion so you can keep your old ones as well. 

Word Count: 1610

You awoke to a rose on the pillow next to you, the soft smell enchanting your olfactory senses and drawing you from your peaceful sleep, it was in just enough time to catch the shirtless back of your boyfriend slipping out of the room. You're wrapped around the green stem, bringing the flora to your nose and inhaling deeply, the soft petals rubbing against your nose and making you shiver. The touch reminded you of gentle innocence and wandering through stores as a child trying to find the softest item, it was pure and unmeaning yet somehow filled with love. Your fingers pressed into the soft mattress topper, raising your sleep impaired body from the blankets. 

You swung your legs over the edge of the bed, toes curling as the bare soles met the cold wooden floor, a shiver running through your body at the sudden change in air surrounding it, looking longingly at the pile of blankets on the bed before the sound of the kettle in the kitchen pulled you in the direction. The scent of tea and coffee replaced the lingering aroma of roses on your cheeks. You heard Tom before you saw him, the velvety notes of his humming overwhelming your hearing as you leaned against the door frame. Your body was shrouded with one of Tom’s shirt, the one that he had taken off last night before getting in bed, he was wearing nothing but his grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips, the shadow of his hip bone peaking out, making you want to fall to your knees and places feathery kisses along the line of musculature.

His weight shifted from foot to foot, twisting around to face the kitchen island, where two plates with fresh fruit adorning the white porcelain sat. His brown eyes widened, eyebrows raising up his forehead, as he finally became aware of your presence. Your fingers still spinning the rose that had been so kindly placed next to you, he watched your movements as his eyes returned to normal, gaze softening as it went from your hands to your sleepy eyes. 

A yawn escaped your lips as you shuffled towards him, he stood still, hands still holding the frying pan that was filled with the pancakes he had lovingly made. Your arms wrapped around his naked torso, nuzzling your cheek against his bare chest, his skin smooth against yours. You huffed contentedly as he set the pan down, his arms encircling you and pulling you tight, lips burying themselves in your hair as he kissed the top of your head. 

“I thought you were still asleep” He spoke quietly, eyeing yoru striking features as you continued to cuddle yourself into him.

“Was, but a little cupid woke me up” you giggled, peeling your eyes open to meet his gaze, a smile spreading across your cheeks with how much adoration he was pouring into his stare, a grin quickly spreading to him as well. Leaning in and uniting your lips, it was a soft kiss, yet it still took your breath away. The only noise that filled your ears was the sound of your heart pounding, blood rushing as the world seemed to spin, there was more passion in this one kiss than there had been in any of your other relationships combined. His hands found your cheeks, thumbing over the dips of your orbital bones.

He continued this movement as you pulled apart, foreheads resting against one another as you both tried to catch your breath, everything in you seems to have been poured into that kiss. 

“Good morning” he whispered, not wanting to break the serenity that was the atmosphere of the kitsch at the moment. 

“Morning” you hum, looking at his eyes in time to catch them cover with a thick layer of fear, pulling back from your embrace, he placed pancakes on the plates and moved them to the other side of the island where two champagne glasses of orange juice sat. 

“What is the occasion?” you asked, curious at what made this morning so special. 

“Um, let's just eat and then you can see” he assured, kissing your lips tenderly as he moved around the island and pulling out your chair, which you happily accepted, the soft suede of the seat brushing against your bare thighs as you settled in, waiting for Tom to sit down before you started eating. 

“How did you sleep?” you spoke before taking your first bite, humming in satisfaction as you rolled your eyes back to show the pleasure this food had caused your taste buds. 

“I slept alright, if I’m honest, I just couldn’t get to sleep” he muttered, pulling your hand into his and twisting the rings that sat on your finger around, something he only did when he was really nervous. 

“Tom? Are you okay?” you asked, worry overtaking as you turned to face him, he looked terrified, his knee was shaking and he looked like he was about to start sweating. 

“Mhmm, I guess I just really need to talk to you about something” his voice was soft, turning his whole body to face you as he slipped something out of his pocket, a small black box. 

“Yeah?” you tried to ignore the box, thinking maybe he was upset that an heirloom broke or something but part of you exploded, thinking ‘what if this is what I think it is’. 

“Okay, here goes nothing,” he said, more to himself than to you. “Y/n, I love you, and you know that but, something has changed,” he paused, making your heart stop, did he want the small amethyst ring that he had given you years ago back, was he no longer in love with you?  Pinky and thumb going to scratch at the metal band that now felt too hot against your skin. 

“Last year, when we sat here in the kitchen and we hadn’t slept all night but you decided that you wanted to make breakfast before going to bed, you accidentally dropped the whipped cream on the floor and instead of clean it up or cry you sat down and dipped your strawberries in the part that wasn’t on the floor” he recounted that wild morning where all the both of you did was humor the others eccentricities, tears coming to your eyes in anticipation of what you truly believed to be happening. “I saw you and something in me clicked, all of the other times that we had of just being each other and going on adventures together came back and I realized that there is no one else that I would want to get lemonade with a 2 a.m. after getting late night noodles at that noodle express place in the financial district. Or that I would not have loved the night we found a rave randomly as much as I did if it was with anyone else” Your eyes searched  his, tears now streaming down both of your faces. “There is no one in this world I would rather be myself with, you make me feel loved and cherished and like I am perfectly enough at whatever point in time.” he took a deep breath, opening the box to reveal a small ring that was surrounded by something else silver, a chain? “In short, you make my life what I want it to be and I want to spend the rest of my life doing my best to make you feel a fraction of how you make me feel, will you do me the honor and marry me?” he rushed it out but you caught every single word. 

“You make me feel everything and more, Tom, of course I will marry you” you sobbed, it was a messy cry, snot on your top lip that you ignored, not caring anymore. 

“Oh thank god,” he cried, pressing his lips to yoru in a tearstained kiss, joy radiating off of the both of you. His fingers reader for the small silver chain, placing it in the palm of your open hand making you look at him with eyes that asked what?

“Um, you already have rings on your engagement finger so I figured that you could put them on the chain and wear them around your neck cause they will be replaced” a grin found its place on your lips as he handed you the ring as well. 

“I was, uh-hoping that the ring you would wear on you finger would be the engagement ring cause-” you cut off his rambling with your lips, hands wrapping around his neck as you pulled him close once again, you fingers making quick work of removing your other rings before pulling back, showing him your naked finger as you set your other rings aside, the clang of metal on marble beautiful to his ears, a sign of your devotion. 

“Would you put it on me?” you questioned, holding the ring he had offered you just moments before out to him. 

“Of course” he hummed, taking the ring and sliding it down on your finger before turning around, unclasping the chain and threading it through your past rings. 

“Here, let me help you with this as well” his voice was melting you and your throat had closed with emotion, you could only nod. He leaned in, lips on lips again as his hands went around your neck this time, clasping your new jewelry on before pulling back, admiring his now soon to be spouse. 

“I love you, future Holland” he mumbled, now fiddling with your engagement ring, but no longer out of anxiety, out of pure excitement. 

@thehumanistsdiary

[runawaymun]

Hi, tis I again! Your resident pain in the ass-

I've been watching Smosh try not to laugh videos so now this is stuck in my head, a gender-neutral healer who loves to make Legolas, Erestor, the twins and Glorfindel laugh especially in situations where they really shouldn't be ☠️. They've got a wide range of humor so it changes depending on who they're trying to make laugh. I imagine this character to be very stubborn (I'll get you to crack up eventually type-) and not the kind to worry about embarrassing themselves to do it. They hide a lot of secrets behind their jokes plus they've seen some sh*t during the war (which one? Uhm completely depends on what timeline you want to set this in), so humor is their coping mechanism but even without the baggage they just like making people happy ♥️ (Familial, platonic or romantic again depends on how u think it would go~)

Well that got deep- theres a lot of more characters this time so if its way too much i wont mind if you narrow it down to 1 or 2...or not at all if you're busy hekhek. Have a great day~

This just turned into an excuse me to write out a bunch of headcannons for everyone’s senses of humor. I hope that’s okay! Also oh god this has been sitting in my drafts for longer than I care to admit I’m so sorry.  ♥️

Elladan & Elrohir

Elladan’s one big giant goofball. He loves pranks best (especially if they’re on either his brother or Erestor). He also tells a lot of jokes. His laugh is big and full-bellied and bright, and he’s super good-natured and easy-going. 

If you tease him he’ll pretend to act wounded, but he actually loves it.

He’s just really easy to crack. 

Elrohir is quieter. It’s hard to get him to actually laugh, but if you can get him to give you one of his soft, amused smiles it’s always super satisfying.

He loves pranks, too, but mostly he loves banter and wordplay (and making fun of his brother). 

He’s also super perceptive-- moreso than his brother. So he’ll catch on pretty quickly that you treat humor as a coping mechanism. He generally lets it go without prying too much, though, unless it seems like you’re having a really bad day or that you’re using it to avoid talking about your feelings more than might be strictly healthy. 

Erestor

On the surface, Erestor has all the good-nature, humor, and personality of a lobster.

He’s just impossible to crack.

Like for real. Pranks, slapstick humor, jokes, wordplay, teasing-- pretty much everything just garners a very stone-faced, dry glare. 

Until you land on dark, fatalistic sarcasm.

He doesn’t laugh. But dark, fatalistic humor and sarcasm earns you a small, sly smile. His eyes will start to sparkle.

His delivery is deadpan. To the point that usually people don’t realize that it’s sarcasm.

If you do you’re instantly his new favorite person. 

Sarcasm and dark humor is a love language. The darker the joke, the funnier he finds it. 

Glorfindel

Glorfindel is by far the easiest to crack out of everyone. You could say bubbles in a silly voice and he’d bust up laughing. He’s just a big ol’ ray of sunshine.

Of course this can happen at really inopportune times. It’s so easy to make him laugh and he’ll crack up during meetings, or even when you’re fixing up a wound after a fight. 

This turns into a lot of ow-- please stop making me laugh-- 

except he finds that situation funny too, so of course he keeps laughing despite himself. 

This also means that he loves making you laugh. It’s like a sport. And he’s not shy about making a fool of himself to do so. He’ll intentionally play dumb or poke fun at himself if it gets you to smile. 

Which means really you’re just best buds.  

Legolas

Legolas doesn’t go for normal ‘jokes’. He doesn’t really find them funny. So in that sense he’s hard to crack.

Absolutely loves pranking people, though (this is why he’s such good friends with the twins). Slapstick humor? Incredible. You tripped and fell face-first into a hedge? Don’t LOOK at him he’s in TEARS.

He’s also just a little snark-master. Again, not jokes but he loves to tease people and get under their skin and sass them.

This means that there will probably be a lot of teasing and jokes at your expense, but it’s worth it to see him laugh.

He doesn’t really have sore spots. He’ll notice right away if you do though and never make fun of you in that particular way ever again.

If you sass/tease/insult him right back then it’s a literal love language. Actual heart eyes. You’re dating now.

[sunnypogue]

college rafe gets jealous (blurb)

lil bit of jealous rafe per anon request

college!rafe verse bc why the f00k not

note - jealous/possessive boyfriends usually are not the bizzzzz...not trying to romanticize any toxic traits, but hopefully you can sense a bit of growth from mr. cameron here.

(warning: nsfw-ish, possessive!rafe)

you’re sippin’ on bud from the bottle, chatting with your friend michelle & her boyfriend tyler, when he walks up.

it’s one of tyler’s pi kapp fraternity brothers, notorious for getting too drunk & a little too friendly - it looked like tonight would be no different, as he clasped your bare shoulders with his hands.

“wooo!” he yelled over the thumping base of the bar’s music. “I fucking LOVE game day!”

unc had destroyed florida state in a basketball game earlier that evening, resulting in a rather chaotic post-game celebration at the local bar. you, having worked the game, only got to the bar 15 minutes ago, playing catch up with your significantly more drunk friends.

“hi michael.” you winced, his voice booming in your ear - you were NOT drunk enough for this.

michelle laughed at your face as michael swung his arm around your shoulder, leaning down to drunkenly snuggle into your neck (you were never good at hiding your feelings, your face getting you in trouble more often than not). michael was slurring words you couldn’t understand as he started to dead weight himself on you, causing you to slightly stumble under the 6’2” frat boy.

“michael, get off.” you groaned, pushing him on the shoulder. “and lay off the dollar beers, for Christ’s sake.”

michael made no effort to move, instead weaving his arms around you in a pseudo-hug. you rolled your eyes, trying to shake him off. as tyler made a move to help de-tangle his friend from your body, you immediately felt a 220 pound weight lifted from you, the freedom almost disorienting you.

“what the fuck is going on?”

you looked up to see your boyfriend, rafe, angrily fisting the front of michael’s sweatshirt, two buds comfortably sitting between the fingers of his other hand.

“hey baby,” you started, moving to rest a gentle hand on the arm that was holding a very inebriated michael up, trying to disregard the small crowd of lambdas that flanked rafe, in case shit went down.

rafe ignored you, pulling michael closer to his face, “keep your hands off her. I don’t want to have to explain it to you again.” his words were scarily even, face emotionless as he stared michael down.

he shoved michael back towards michelle and tyler, who barely caught the stumbling boy, before rafe pointed a beer at them, “tyler, keep your little bitch in check. shit’s embarrassing at this point.”

you looked apologetically towards michelle, who was trying to simultaneously hold michael up and talk tyler down from a fight, before following rafe, who was stomping towards the front door, knocking the remainder of his beer back.

“hey!” you yelled, tugging on his arm before he started to put back the second bud, stopping him from leaving the bar. “what the fuck?”

he looked down at you. “I should be asking you that.”

you rolled your eyes, “it’s michael. he’s trashed, I genuinely think he thought I was a wall or something to hold him up.”

rafe chuckled mirthlessly, before polishing off the second beer, setting it down on a dirty table. he turned his backwards hat around, pulling it down low over his eyes. “let’s go.”

you crossed your arms. “really? you’re gonna do this shit right now?”

rafe turned towards the exit, growling, “I’m leaving.”

great - he’s deflecting. you thought, as you chugged the remainder of your beer, before hustling after him.

you shivered in your tank top as you caught up to him on the side walk outside the bar, watching as he ordered an uber, his breathing deep and heavy. you wordlessly leaned into his warm body, teeth chattering in the cold january air.

“here.” rafe grumbled, sliding his sweatshirt off to wrap around you. “it’s january, baby. what the hell are you wearing?”

you grinned, half pleased he wasn’t completely shutting you out, half pleased you were cozy and warm. “who cares? I look cute.”

he grumbled again, wrapping his arms around your neck from behind, pulling your back into his chest. y’all waited like that for the uber to pull up, before sliding into the back seat, rafe propping your feet up on his lap, a hand wrapped possessively around your ankle.

you caught his eye about a block from his house, giving him a shy smile and a wink. he growled, hand sliding up your leg.

you couldn’t get upstairs fast enough, practically tumbling out of the uber as rafe stalked after you, still slightly worked up from the incident at the bar. you went to go casually sit on the foot of the bed, kicking your shoes off, when rafe caught up to you, slamming the bedroom door behind him.

“you gonna be pissy all night?” you teased, pulling your hair down from its half-updo.

“what, I can’t be mad about some fucker groping you at a bar?” rafe growled, pulling his hat off to run his hands through his hair. you sat up on your knees, grabbing the hat from his hands before popping it backwards on your head.

“he wasn’t groping me,” you said, exasperated, adjusting your hair under his hat. “he was trying to stay vertical. very different.”

rafe gave you an amused look as you started to shimmy your jeans off while sitting, giving you a hand when they got stuck around your ankles.

“lookin’ good.” he laughed, taking in your appearance - you were down to just his hat and his sweatshirt, the rest of your outfit on the floor.

you smiled at rafe’s more-relaxed demeanor, popping up on your knees. “you’re a lucky man, rafe cameron. I’m not sure any other girl could pull this look off.”

rafe hummed, walking up to the foot of the bed to grab your ass, pulling you in. you squeaked, tipping forward into his chest, the too-big cap slipping down on your forehead. 

you peered up at him, using one hand to steady yourself on his chest, the other to push the hat back - “you better now?”

rafe leaned down to catch your lips in a heated kiss, teeth nipping your bottom lip enough to make you gasp, allowing his tongue to slide in. one hand slid to roughly grasp the back of your neck as he dictated the pace, the other palming your ass cheek, keeping your body flush to his.

you pulled away a couple minutes later, breathless and lips already feeling bruised, hand moving to your chest to settle your heightened heart rate.

“a little better.” he mumbled, hand moving to the front of your neck, lightly tracing your throat with his fingers. “I know what will really help, though.”

(later, you found yourself seated on his cock, tits bouncing as you rode him wearing nothing but the hat, his hand spanking your ass as he made you tell him who you belonged to - you screamed his name as you came on his cock, screamed his name as he came inside you, and screamed his name as he went to eat his come out of you, listening to him growl “you’re mine” as he shoved his face in your dripping cunt.)

as y’all basked in the afterglow, your legs twisted around his, his hand cupping one of your breasts, he breathed out an apology.

“sorry, baby. I know you hate that shit.” he murmured, mindlessly letting his finger circle your nipple.

you wiggled under his light touch, “s’okay baby. you didn’t fight anyone tonight.”

he smirked, rolling your now-hard nipple between his fingers, watching your head tip back in pleasure. “what can I say baby, I’m practically a pacifist now.”

you snorted, smacking his bare shoulder, pleasure forgotten in the humor. “okay bub, whatever you say.” you giggled again. “pacifist my ass. you literally fought a beta in october because he looked at my ass.”

you yelped as rafe tugged you into his side, rolling you under him, his arms bracketing your head. “like it didn’t turn you on.”

you moaned as he leaned down to kiss you again, filthy and slow, tongues fighting for control.

he pulled away a few moments later, brushing your hair out of your face, before his hand cupped your cheek.

you pouted, nuzzling into his palm. “I really should stop sleeping with you after you get all jealous - I think you think I’m encouraging it.”

rafe grinned down at you, slipping his thumb between your teeth, watching as your eyes widened. “whatever babes,” he chuckled, pressing the digit down on your tongue, “you’re mine.”

[hotdogct]

blooms in adversity ||| n.jm

pairing: na jaemin x reader genre: angst-ish, fluff. words: 1.8k a/n: you ever get rejected from a job and have a complete meltdown over your future hahahahahhaaa just asking for a friend :) title is an obvious nod to ‘mulan’, i listened to way too much hippo campus while writing this. enjoy!!!

network tags: @czennienet​

At this time we have decided to move forward with other candidates in the hiring process. Thank you for your interest and we wish you the best of luck in the future.

The rejection email might’ve landed in your inbox late in the afternoon, but you had been anticipating its arrival all day long - the thought of it lingering, stagnant, weighing heavily on your brain like a storm cloud that refused to pass. 

Jaemin knew this, anticipated it. It’s why the two of you were outside, taking full advantage of the warmth the sun was providing this late spring day. After noticing the neglected planter on your balcony in the early days of your relationship, Jaemin wouldn’t stop nagging you about his ‘legendary’ green thumb. As soon as winter began to fade to spring he began to wax poetic,  explaining the overwhelming benefits plant ownership has on a person and pretty please can-he-take-you-to-the-nursery and-

It’s not that you didn’t appreciate flowers. Some of your fondest memories of the early stages of your relationship were the bouquets Jaemin would spoil you with at each date - how you used to keep them on display prominently in the kitchen, a silent reminder of his newly blooming affection towards you. Even after they wilted, lost their petals, there was seldom time to mourn. A new bouquet would always take its place, and the absentminded cycle could continue.

Absentminded. That was your whole problem, the reason for the sad remains of dead flowers residing in the neglected planter. You had started off with the brightest of intentions when moving into your first apartment - wanting to establish routine and create the perfect place to unwind at the end of the day.

Nervously you had browsed the outdoor section of the nearest hardware store, shaky hands brushing over begonias and marigolds, before settling on a flat of dusty pink petunias to take home. None of these names meant anything to you, no terms familiar. Equipped with extra gardening tools courtesy of your mother, you spent that afternoon carefully digging into the soil. Gently sitting each starter petunia into place and covering their roots as if tucking in a child for the night. For the next few days, you’d make sure to have your daily nightcap of wine out on the balcony, watch the sunset and water the planter. 

But one day you forgot. The next you were tired. Then you went out of town for the weekend. And at that point, shame left you frozen. Rather than attempting to salvage your petunias, you passively let the entire idea and label of “plant mom” slip from your brain.  A pattern that followed you your entire life - never quite being able to follow through, see something to completion. Sometimes you almost feel as wilted as the abandoned petunias themselves.

This was why Jaemin, with his prince-like features, his romantic gestures and bouquets, swept you off your feet almost instantly. Rather than nagging you about a drawer being left open in the kitchen, a light left on in the living room, the messy dining room table after a night of arts and crafts, he would simply take care of whatever chaos you had left in your wake. You might’ve been a storm, tremendous and unpredictable. Yet Jaemin thought there was nothing more beautiful, and decided he was up for the thrill of the chase. 

So it was only fair to humor him, to try again at the “plant mom” thing. After his consistent nagging reached a crescendo that rivaled only the oncoming cicada brood in terms of volume, you found yourselves strolling through the nearby nursery bright and early on a weekend morning. 

“You’ve put this off all Spring long,” Jaemin lamented, gesturing wildly with his hand at the expanse of greenhouses before the two of you. “And look! Now there’s nothing pretty left!”

“What are you talking about, Na?” You could easily spot at least three to four different flats of colorful starters that had already caught your eye, and started to walk tentatively over in their direction. Before you could get too far, Jaemin’s firm grasp on your wrist prevented you from moving much further, a pout apparent upon his features. Instead he pivoted you both in the opposite direction, towards the more complex greenery and shrubs. You shot Jaemin a confused glance, which only led to a small laugh escaping his lips, followed by words that left your cheeks as crimson as the nearby roses:

“Those flowers weren’t nearly pretty enough for the balcony, let alone pretty enough for you.” 

It had been Jaemin who had pushed you to apply for this job. You were blinded by the familiarity of the stressful retail gig you held long before the two of you even met. The ever changing schedule, along with the grueling work and constant understaffing was your unshifting reality. But you had health benefits and a small, but earnest 401K started - what could you really complain about?

Turns out, quite a bit. It wasn’t until one late night in bed, where Jaemin was massaging your back and shoulders wordlessly after a brutal shift - doing his best to water and tend to you, his most beautiful flower. Silently pressing his hands firmly on, around, all over your shoulder blades in a busy pattern, he tried his best to keep his anger contained to the intensity of his movements. How could they neglect you so? A flower of your caliber needed full sun - and Jaemin didn’t need to feel the tight knots your muscles had twisted themselves into to know that you were wilted. While he was especially gifted at keeping his mouth shut, a brief look at your pained, exhausted expression was all it took for him to slip, speak up.

“You deserve better than this.”

Immediately wide eyed despite how tired you were seconds before, Jaemin realized the vagueness of the previous thought, and clarified, pulling away from your body so that you could roll over, sit up. “N-not like that. This job is going to kill you.” 

Your face softened. While stubborn to a fault, even you could admit Jaemin’s argument was sound. When was enough enough?

And then, doubt. Before you could even begin to imagine the possibilities, the blue sky ideas that could await you. Instead, you immediately hone in on the skills you don’t possess, requirements you don’t meet. The idea of not running on automatic, the thought of having to try, of doing something new. The overwhelming fear of rejection. Pulse racing now, each shallow breath in only made the thorns that had grown around your ego constrict themselves further, pressing in uncomfortably.

Jaemin’s arms find their way around your trembling body seconds later, his added weight bringing you back down to earth. You periodically feel his lips leaving gentle kisses, pressed with the utmost care along the back of your neck, the curve of your shoulder. In between, ghost whispers of comfort land reassuringly in your ear.

“You have so much to offer the world.” 

“You deserve to be somewhere where you can shine.”

“Let's get you blooming again, yeah?”

The smile that graced Jaemin’s face when you told him you had a second interview scheduled was so bright it could probably be seen from outer space. True to his word, over the last month he helped revise your resume, hunt for job listings, prepare for interviews late into the night. There was gradually less and less tension in your muscles when Jaemin would massage almost nightly. Buds slowly began to appear on your stems, where rot had once been. 

The second interview went great - or so you had thought. Then the hours after turned into a day, then two, then the week passed without hearing back. Your expectations had plummeted like a sagging helium balloon, days past its prime. The subject went unmentioned by both you and Jaemin, the silence instead speaking volumes.

The two of you were out on the balcony, music blaring. You’re sitting on an uncomfortable stool watching Jaemin below you, donned in a gardening visor and bright pink gloves. He was planting the flowers you were absolutely frightened to take care of, when the rejection email arrived, unceremoniously. 

You blink once, twice, comprehending the words on your phone screen individually. Move forward - are you now set back? Other candidates - no, that’s you, you feel like the “other”, luck - you’ll need it, alright-

Deep breath. 

You look over and down. Jaemin is so heavily invested in covering a starter daisy just right with soil that he missed your initial reaction, your brief show of raw emotion.  Sensing your eyes on him, he looks up at you, squinting into the sun, smiles bright. If autopilot didn’t fail you now, the small smile on your face would convince him you’re fine, everything was fine. 

But Jaemin was intuitive, he was smart, and he knew better. The speaker was playing some cheerful pop song, the weather was cooperating and tolerable. His nail beds were caked with dirt and soil, a favorite feeling of his from childhood that comes with the satisfaction of gardening. His wide eyes were still studying you. There you were, his radiant flower, sitting in the fullest and brightest of sun, and he had nurtured you back to growth.

So why weren’t you blooming?

“Are you okay?”

A small chuckle leaves your lips, knowing the truth and the inevitability of it all. This time when you blink once, twice, in an attempt to avoid Jaemin’s overwhelming gaze, you can feel hot liquid streaming down your cheeks, taste the saltiness of the tears once they hit your lips. You can hear the clatter of gardening tools being abandoned, plastic flats of flowers being shoved aside, and you can feel Jaemin’s broad frame envelop you seconds later, almost knocking both of you off the stool. 

You lose track of the time, sobbing into Jaemin’s chest. An exaltation of the saddest manner, but necessary when coming from someone as normally stoic as you. His tight grip around you never wavered, the softest of rocking motions to settle you down, his familiar hands massaging at your weary frame. Loving words on loop from his lips.

“This is just a minor setback...it’s alright...”

“They don’t know what they’re missing.”

“We’ll get you back out there tomorrow.”

Eventually your brain stops screaming, though a headache remains. Your breath steadies into a slow rhythm. As quickly as it had arrived, the overwhelming anxiety courtesy of the rejection email disappeared.  The once raging storm had subsided.

And still, Jaemin thought, there was nothing more beautiful.

[lady-divine-writes]

Good Omens - A Corpse, Cake, and a Cuppa (Rated NC17)

Summary: Aziraphale is Death and Crowley is the serial killer who keeps murdering to catch a glimpse of the ethereal being he fell in love with. (1714 words)

Notes: Written for the above Halloween prompt from @new-endings/M.A.D.#8943. Human Crowley au. It’s kind of gory, I’m not going to lie.

Read on AO3.

“Jesus Christmas!" Aziraphale yelps, tiptoeing through the thick pool of red coagulating on the concrete. Threads of it cling to the soles of his shoes when he lifts his feet as if trying to drag him down. Aziraphale has seen a great deal of blood in his time. None of it has been pretty. But this is especially gruesome.

He wonders if that’s for his benefit.

"Look at... look at this! Look at all the… !” Aziraphale takes a pause and breathes in deep, pressing the thumb and forefinger of his right hand to his forehead. Tension causes a vein to distend and throb - quite the feat since, as a non-human entity, he shouldn't be able to experience this kind of pain. Or so he thought. In the thousands of years he's roamed earth reaping souls, he's finally found the one mortal who can give him what humans call a migraine. And he doesn't like it. Not one bit. “Could you please just… stop already?"

Crowley grins, thrilled giddy by the arrival of his intended audience. “No,” he replies, shoving the slicked head of his filthy ax deeper into the severed spine of the fresh corpse at his feet.

Aziraphale grimaces as the blade lands with a resounding slap. 

That ax of Crowley's gets on every one of Aziraphale's nerves. It's effective for its purpose but positively unsanitary. It makes his skin crawl every time he sees it.

Crowley lifts it slowly, eyes Aziraphale menacingly.

Eyes his nice, clean coat, Aziraphale realizes.

“Crowley!” he warns, putting both hands up in defense. “Don't you dare... !”

But Crowley doesn't let him finish, hoisting his ax higher with part of the dead man's torso attached. He doesn't need to do anything after that. The torso falls from the blade and splashes down in the pool, accomplishing what Crowley set out to do.

“Holy... GAH!” Aziraphale leaps back to avoid the spray. He frowns at his clothes when he sees he wasn't quick enough. "Look what you've done! You’ve made a mess of my coat!”

“Improved it, I’d say,” Crowley snarks. “Given it a pop of color.”

“I've had this coat for ages and hadn't collected a single stain! Not one! And look at your shoes! Ruined!" He gazes down at Crowley's feet in despair. "I actually liked that pair.”

“Really?" Crowley tilts his head, batting his eyes innocently. "You didn't tell me that.”

“Yes, well... " Aziraphale busies himself fishing a handkerchief out of his pocket. Praying he’s swift enough to save the fabric, he pats at the specks on his sleeve "... it’s not my place to tell a homicidal maniac that he looks fetching in snakeskin, is it?”

Crowley pouts, his lower lip jutting out, making him look comically childish despite the streaks of blood running down his cheeks. 

Aziraphale’s brows pull together. He glances around, trying to work out what's wrong. "What? What is it?"

"You're being mean."

"How am I being mean?"

"You're calling me names."

"Accurate ones, yes."

"You sound disappointed."

"You think so!?"

“B-but... but why? I took your advice!" Crowley argues. "I changed me m.o.!”

“I didn’t give you advice! I said you should stop killing innocent people!”

“I did! This guy?" Crowley plants the heel of his sopping shoe into the dead man's crooked neck for emphasis. "He weren’t innocent! He was a serial killer, too! He just happened to be shite at it!”

"I can see that." Aziraphale peers into the vacant eyes of the man on the ground, spirit buzzing beneath his skin, waiting to be reaped. But Aziraphale is in no rush. In the choice between filling out paperwork and shooting the shite with Crowley, surprisingly, he chooses Crowley. 

Or maybe not so surprising, Aziraphale muses, biting his lower lip and indulging in a private chuckle. He rolls his eyes in disgust at himself right after. What are you doing? Stop that!

"Besides, I'm doin' you a solid!" 

Aziraphale scoffs, snapping back to his senses. "How do you figure?"

"You're Death, ain't ya? I'm keeping you in business!"

"I don't know if you've read the papers lately, dear boy, but humans are dropping like flies thanks to their own stubbornness and stupidity. You're slap in the middle of one of the worst pandemics in history, but instead of doing what you can to stay safe, you lot spend your time arguing over petty b.s.! I won't wear a mask! It's against my rights! I'm not taking the vaccine! It'll make me sterile! There is no disease! It's all a big conspiracy! Meanwhile, in the states, some orange lunatic has everyone drinking bleach! Believe me, I hardly need your help doing my job!" 

“Oi! Don’t lump me in with those prats!”

“Why not? You’re not wearing a mask, I see.”

“Don’t have to. I got my shot. And I keep me distance.”

“But you’re covered in blood! Did that man you dismembered have the virus!? You don’t know!” Aziraphale cringes at words that sound far more like concern than scolding. Which he should be doing. Scolding and ridiculing, and possibly calling the police.

But he won’t.

If Crowley were thrown in prison, it would be harder for Aziraphale to find an excuse to see him. Aziraphale has yet to decide if that’s something he wants, but either way, he’d prefer it not be at the expense of another life.

"Fine. Whatever. If that's the way you feel about it... " Crowley grumbles, letting what remains of that statement die as embarrassment rises to his cheeks, settling beneath the red already there. He crosses his arms over his chest and turns his face away. 

Just like a child, Aziraphale thinks. 

And as with a child, Aziraphale should have nipped this in the bud much, much earlier - like when Crowley realized that he could summon Aziraphale whenever he wanted by upping the frequency of his murderous antics. 

This, to date, is his twenty-seventh kill.

Aziraphale doesn't know how Crowley spotted him. He's pretty adept at avoiding human detection. But after victim number eight, Aziraphale turned around, scythe in hand, and there he stood: tall, gangly, bizarrely besotted, dressed in black and wearing sunglasses at one in the morning. Aziraphale thought Crowley was a run-of-the-mill psychopath looking for attention, seeing Aziraphale as a hapless dolt to play cat-and-mouse with, not knowing for one second who he was dealing with.

Not only did Crowley know exactly who Aziraphale was, but he had taken a considerable shine to him.

Aziraphale humored the man when their paths crossed so he could get on with his work, never for one minute considering the consequences. Thinking back on their past interactions, Aziraphale can pick out the hints Crowley had been dropping.

Aziraphale played right into them, and he could kick himself over it.

"We have to stop meeting like this," Aziraphale quipped dryly after Crowley had beheaded some poor, down-on-his-luck fool. "I'm going to start thinking that you have a thing for me."

"Finally!" Crowley tossed his arms in the air. "At this rate, I was going to have to murder half of London and spell out the words ’Will you go out with me?’ with their bodies. Do you know how time-consuming that would have been?"

Aziraphale had written that comment off as a morbid attempt at humor. 

Now he feels like an imbecile.

He’s going to get an earful from Gabriel if he ever gets wind of this. Aziraphale has been able to cover up the increase in London deaths by blaming the pandemic. But once people get their acts together and things calm down, he’ll have to come clean.

There’s a serial killer roaming the streets that has a serious crush on him.

Aziraphale lets out a heavy sigh as he comes to a decision.

A bad decision.

He's going to regret this. He knows he's going to regret this. 

But will he really though?

Aziraphale looks Crowley over, still moping with his nose in the air. He examines him at depth - his sharp features, his debonair style (hiding beneath a litre of blood), his devil-may-care attitude, his rowdy sense of humor. If he were another angel, or even a demon, Aziraphale would have asked him out already, body count or no. 

So what is he waiting for?

It’s not entirely unheard of, an angel dating outside their dominion. And as for the moral issues of dating a murderer, well, Aziraphale is an angel. He has a responsibility to bring sinners to the light, help them see the truth. That can be done anywhere, not just in church - on a street corner, in a diner…

Back at his flat.

Besides, he and Crowley have a lot more in common than Aziraphale did with his last paramour, an angel he had dallied with solely for the fact that he was guardian of comestibles.

It seemed like a match made in Heaven, so to speak.

Far from it.

“Look - if I let you take me out for coffee, will you stop the gratuitous bloodshed?”

Crowley all but gasps when that question leaves Aziraphale’s mouth, the grin growing on his face transforming, becoming less maniacal and more… normal if that makes any sense. "One cup of coffee. That's all I ask."

"Then come along. Here… “ Aziraphale snaps his fingers, cleaning Crowley thoroughly before he takes his arm. “If you're good, I'll let you buy me a slice of cake.”

“That’s very generous of you.”

“I’m glad you think so. I’m a very slow eater. And I figure the longer I stay with you, the more I can keep an eye on you."

“Deal. But, you know," Crowley starts, his tone so filled with teasing he’s on the verge of giggles, "if you, say, spent the night at my flat, you could keep an eye on me for hours. Think of all the people I wouldn’t be able to kill.”

Aziraphale smirks, amused that they both had a semblance of the same idea. “You don’t say?”

“I do.”

“That’s blackmail.”

“More so than you bartering human lives against a cuppa and cake?”

Aziraphale shrugs, but he doesn't relinquish Crowley's arm. He does, however, relieve him of his ax so he doesn’t get any ideas along the way. “Fair point.”

[cxsmicmyeon]

HURT ; KJM [M]

kim junmyeon x fem! reader

IN WHICH you bring to light your insecurities and doubts about your new relationship to your boyfriend and the response is nothing if not tender and caring.

genre: non-idol au! angst with comfort, fluff and smut word count: 2.2k warnings: mentions of anxiety and past relationship trauma, explicit sexual content, body worship, PRAISE, porn with a lot of feelings, jun being the best lover and the sweetest thing🥺

author’s note: i combined two requests from two anons (aaa happy to get them for my ult!!), hope u both enjoy!! <3 this entire concept really hits close to home because both of my past relationships have been with toxic people who are similar to how the reader’s exes are (one more than the other but toxic nonetheless). i do resonate and understand the reader’s perspective in this since i too still deal with trauma from my past relationships and i have felt insecure about dealing with these issues, so i wrote jun to be as understanding as possible and how i would want him to handle this. 

You waited in front of the restaurant where your latest date was for your boyfriend, Junmyeon, to bring his car over. Tonight was your fifth date with him, and this, as well as the previous four, had gone very well so far. He was nothing but great: being a perfect gentleman, sharing your strange sense of humor, you name it. Each night, he’d bring you home and leave with a lingering kiss, which always left both of you wanting more. Tonight was the night where you were going to try and get more.

Junmyeon pulled up in front of the restaurant, parking in front of the curb. As you began walking toward the passenger side, he rushed out of the car, stumbling a bit as he opened the door for you.

“Jun, I could have gotten it.” you whined, giving him a mini pout.

“I know I know, but I wanted to get it for you.” Junmyeon responded, lifting your hand to his lips and pressing a soft kiss onto the skin. You shivered at the contact, blushing as you entered the navy blue Maserati. He shut the door before going back to the driver’s side.

‘Ah, why is he so sweet?’ you thought to yourself as Junmyeon started the car. He toyed with the radio for a bit before settling on some popular pop song that you both knew the lyrics to. You giggled to yourself as he began to belt the lyrics in a rather loud falsetto. How he managed to still sound like an angel was beyond you.

Soon after, Junmyeon pulled into the parking lot of his apartment building. The two of you exited the car and made your way to the entrance of the building, taking in the scenery of the night sky.

On the elevator ride to his penthouse, the two of you were mostly silent apart from a few kisses stolen here and there. When you got to the apartment, Junmyeon pulled you to the couch and pressed his lips onto yours as soon as you sat down. The kiss started off gentle but soon grew heated. You entangled your fingers through his luscious chocolate-brown hair as he pulled you closer to him, hands resting on the small of your back. 

Junmyeon bit down on your bottom lip and tugged a bit, causing you to gasp in surprise and pleasure. He took the opportunity to shove his tongue inside of your mouth, clashing with yours. You tugged at his hair, softly moaning out as you continued to kiss him. You felt his hands slip under your shirt, tracing patterns into the soft skin of your stomach. You initially welcomed the contact, naturally, but soon enough, it got too much for you. Instinctively, you pulled away from him and wrapped your arms around your stomach, looking down at your shoes.

You swore to yourself that you were ready to take this next step with Junmyeon. And consistently you’d assure yourself that he would not be like them after taking this step. You were so sure of it. So why, oh why did you pull away?

“Y/N? I’m so sorry, I should have asked you if you were okay with that. I... I got a bit carried away and I should not have done that,” Junmyeon shifted closer to you and placed a hand between you and him. “Please don’t push yourself to do anything that you’re uncomfortable with. If you want to go home or do something else, please don’t hesitate to tell me.”

You didn’t reply for a moment, opting to interlock your pinky with his. Taking in a deep breath, you asked him: “Do you mind if I get this off my chest?” After hearing a hum of approval from him, you braced yourself and took in a deep breath. 

You opened up about your past experiences with partners. While you haven’t had many, they still shared one toxic trait that you were desperate to get away from. The only connection you had with them was sexual. They never contacted you for any other reason.

“It’s like I only existed for their genitals to get wet and so they could get off. They didn’t give a shit about everything else about me. I really liked them at those times and wanted to actually and genuinely get to know them through real, non-sexual dates. But my efforts proved futile. Each attempt I made at actually having a real human connection ended in yet another faked orgasm.”

“You... I know we met at that shitty fast food place that I work at. You showed up in your suit dressed as if you were on your way to a wedding and asked for a black coffee and an order of hashbrowns. And every day for two weeks you came back and ordered the same thing. Until one day you ordered a third thing.”

“A date with me...” Jun whispered, wrapping an arm around you.

“Yeah, and I thought it was the silliest yet sweetest way to ask me out. And after our first date, I knew that you weren’t gonna be like them. You actually gave off the vibe that you legitimately gave a shit about me and you didn’t want to bed me at the end of the night and leave the next morning.”

“And... I really really appreciate that you’re actually taking the time to know me. And I did want to... y’know. But I don’t even know why I even pushed you away. I know you’re not like the others. I know that. But...” You let out a loud sob as you covered your face with your hands. More sobs racked your body as you leaned into Junmyeon’s embrace, your head becoming clouded with anxious thoughts.

After what seemed like an eternity to you, you felt yourself calm down. In a strange yet gratifying way, letting yourself express your traumas and pain proved somewhat of a relief to you. After everything being pent up internally for so long, you felt more at peace with what happened and, in a way, let it go. Wiping your tears, you turned to Junmyeon and gave him a weak smile. He returned your smile, rubbing your arm and placing a kiss onto your temple.

“Are you feeling better?” you gave him a nod, taking a short breath. “Good,” he took your face into his hands, wiping a lone tear that almost dared to escape. “Please don’t feel pressured to do anything that you don’t want to do. If you aren’t ready for anything tonight, that’s completely okay. I... I really like you. And I don’t want you to think that you have to have sex with me right now, you can call the shots and let me know when you’re ready.”

You rested your forehead on his, noses touching as you pressed your lips onto his lightly. “I promise you, I am ready to do this with you. I just... I honestly don’t know why I freaked out before. If I do again... do you mind if we do stop?”

“Of course not.”

“Okay. Then I’m ready.”

“Lead the way, love.”

At that, you cupped Junmyeon’s face into your hands and pressed your lips to his. He kissed back, wrapping his arms around your waist, bringing you to straddle him. Your lips never left each other as Junmyeon stood and carried you to his bedroom. He placed you down onto his bed, breaking the kiss as he gazed at you with hooded eyes. You reached over and grabbed his wrists, guiding his hands to the hem of your shirt. After receiving a nod of approval from you, he pulled your shirt over your head and tossed it onto the floor, revealing a lacy black bralette.

“So beautiful.” he muttered, toying with the straps of the material hugging your chest. He slipped the straps down your shoulders and pulled the bralette over your head, allowing your breasts to be revealed. He gasped softly, trailing a finger down your sternum, fingertips barely grazing your left breast. Immediately you craved his touch, a chill of pleasure being sent down your spine.

“Touch me.” you pleaded. Junmyeon nodded before taking both of your breasts into his hands and squeezing them. He removed his left hand and lowered his head into your chest and wrapped his mouth around your perked nipple. You gasped out as he swirled his tongue around the bud while squeezing the plump flesh of your other breast. Releasing your nipple with a soft pop, he began to trail kisses all over your chest, quickly moving up to your neck and then your lips. You kissed him once before resting your hands at the hem of his shirt.

“You can take it off.” Junmyeon breathed out, pressing his lips onto yours. You complied, trailing your hands up his chest and to the top of his collared shirt. Gazing at him with lust in your eyes, you slowly unbuttoned the first button. With each button you freed from its confines, you kissed down his chest. You slipped his shirt off of his shoulders once all of the buttons were unbuttoned, licking a stripe up his chest. 

“God, you do that so well, baby. You’re so beautiful.” Your panties immediately became soaked at his praise. You met his eyes and leaned in to kiss him again, the feel of his bare chest against yours setting your entire body ablaze from a singular touch. His hands made their way down to your ass, squeezing the flesh as you moved to straddle him. You moved your hips in a downward motion, feeling Junmyeon’s hardening cock through his pants. He thrust upwards, causing you to moan in his mouth. 

You broke the kiss, breath hitching as Junmyeon moved to remove your skirt. He pulled the material down your legs and let it fall to the floor, revealing a matching pair of lacy black panties.

“You really went all out, huh?” Junmyeon teased, pecking you on the lips. You playfully rolled your eyes, pinching his cheek. He placed his hands on your thighs, tracing indistinct patterns all over the skin before lowering himself down to pepper kisses on your thighs, spreading your legs so he was eye-level with your clothed core.

“You are so beautiful,” He hooked his thumbs through your panty line and slid them down your legs. You blushed and covered your face with your hands, feeling your arousal drip down onto the bed. He removed your hands from your face and kissed you with utmost passion before motioning for you to take off his pants. 

You ran a finger down his chiseled chest before resting your hands at the buckle of his belt. “We’ll save this for another time.” you joked before unbuckling the belt and placing it next to your discarded clothes. 

“Kinky, are we?” Junmyeon returned as you unbuttoned and unzipped his slacks.

“You’ll just have to find out.” You reached your hand inside of his briefs and palmed his cock before sliding the underwear and his slacks down his legs and pushing them to the floor. 

“Can’t wait to- Ohhh....” Junmyeon moaned out as you began to stroke him to full hardness, collecting drops of precum from his tip onto your thumb. You let go of his cock and wrapped your lips around your thumb, sucking his arousal off of your finger. “Fuck, (Y/N). Ride me. Please.”

“God... I will.”

You crawled onto the bed, hovering over Junmyeon. He placed both hands at your hips and guided you down onto his cock. Both of you gasped out at the new sensation as he filled you oh so deliciously. You began moving up and down, relishing in the feeling of being wrapped around Junmyeon’s cock. His hands never left your hips as you bounced on his cock. 

“Fuck, you look so pretty like this, sweetheart. So so pretty.” You moaned out, placing your palms on Junmyeon’s pecs as you brought yourself closer to your orgasm. His hands moved to your ass, lifting and squeezing the skin. His thumb made its way to your clit. The sensation of him rubbing the sensitive bud added to your pleasure tenfold.

“Jun, I’m close.” you whimpered as he thrust upward. You dug your nails into his chest, screaming his name as you clenched down on his cock, an earth-shattering orgasm washing over you. It wasn’t too long until Junmyeon spilled inside of you, panting heavily as you pulled yourself off of his cock.

You laid next to your lover and covered your eyes with your sweaty forearm, still shaking from your previous orgasm.

“Now that... that was the best sex I have ever had.” You sighed, turning on your side so you were facing Junmyeon. He chuckled softly as he moved a stray hair from your face, kissing you on the forehead.

“I’m gonna go take a shower okay, love?” Junmyeon kissed you on the forehead and went to get up. You grabbed his forearm, causing him to stop in his tracks.

“Mind if I join you?”

“Not at all.” He scooped you into his arms and carried you into the connected bathroom. 

Oh, you were in for a good night.

[solaeter]

hate that I love you - Naoya Zenin [18+]

I haven’t actually written smut in like two years..well finished smutty content. I can barely start it and finish it, shame on me but I am pathetic °(ಗдಗ。)°. I am so nervous and shy, so pls no pitchforks and tomatoes _(:3」∠)_ this is a repost cause doubt hit me for a hot minute, but we gon be brave (*•̀ᴗ•́*)و ̑̑ 

Word Count: 2311

Request Status: OPEN

Warning[s]: Adult content, minors dni!! idk proper warnings cause my brain is fried atm, but there’s oral [f receiving], penetration which is given, slight manipulation? Naoya cause he’s a warning all on its own, noob attempt at dirty talk [I died k]. reader chan tries to hate naoya but can’t. It’s just porn without plot unless you squint.

Just when you thought you were safe, reality had another thing in mind. Strong hands pulled your hips up with a force that had your face hugging the pillow before you could register how you even allowed yourself to end up like this.

Why did it have to be now? You really thought you managed to get away. "Why are you doing this?" You turn your head, teeth latching to your bottom lip when two fingers glide along your clothed slit. 

"You don't seem to mind." Naoya remarked, his voice laced with disinterest and boredom while his eyes roamed your body. Three months..that's how long he's been without you. His favorite toy. "You're already so wet for me, miss my cock that much?" He questioned with a sneer, sliding your pretty little panties to the side. The sudden chill made you squirm and his words bit at your budding arousal.

"Couldn't you have found someone else to toy with?" You avoided his question, voice hitching when he slid a finger up your dripping slit, stopping at your clit and circling the bud ever so slowly. It wasn't fair how he could work your body so effortlessly. Your mouth parts as your eyes squeeze shut. 

Naoya smirks, his eyes never leaving your cute little cunt while you try to look as displeased as possible. You should have known getting away from him was quite literally impossible. He owned you. 

"Why should I find someone else when I only need you?" The sentence itself sounded sweet, but you knew it was far from what it suggested. Ever since you met Naoya, he's had you by the palm of his hand. He used you for his own needs, taking and taking before tossing you to the side. Yet, you lingered and remained loyal until you tried to end things. Naoya let you live in a false sense of newfound freedom, giving you just enough space before making your world tumble back down, right where he wanted you. 

Now, there was no denying that you looked absolutely stunning before him. Your body was meant for him, made for him to fuck over and over. You were his missing puzzle piece. When you don't answer Naoya, he clicks his tongue and brings his fingers down to your entrance, the tips teasing your hole before plunging knuckle deep, your walls clamping around him beautifully while you cry out.

The sudden intrusion made your thoughts muddle together and everything seemed to spin. Naoya could make you so stupid so easily and he laughs, so humorously. "Why would I find someone else when you're so..fucking worthless without me. I haven't even done anything and you're already stupid."

You glance back over your shoulder, cheeks burning when your eyes meet his cold ones. He never showed you an ounce of love, only half an inch of interest and a load of selfish, one sided desires. "I hate you." You spat while gripping the sheets when another finger eased its way inside you, stretching you further. Naoya curled his fingers roughly, swiping over the one spot that had stars in your eyes. He knew your body better than you knew it. Or so he claimed with a sense of pride. 

No matter how long you've been apart, Naoya would be sure to remind you that no one else will make you feel the way he does. Even if you're spouting words of hate, he just knows you won't stay away for too long. "Heh, sure you do." 

You wanted to be angry, call him out for being a vile piece of shit but nothing came out of your mouth besides helpless moans. 

"Look at you, so pretty and fucking useless. Baby can't even argue with me." Naoya talked down at you, thrusting his fingers in and out of your pretty cunt until you're clenching around him with a strangled, frustrated cry as pleasure washed over your body. "Damn, you couldn't even hold it in. I'm disappointed." Naoya removes his fingers and your hole clenches around nothing, searching for more.

Oh his little whore. To ruin you is his greatest desire. To have you so wrapped around him, that nothing else in this world can compare to what he does. It makes his blood boil in such a way he can't describe and it shoots straight down to his cock. But he can't have you just yet. 

Naoya has to break you more, see you crumble. So he flips you over and the gasp that leaves your pouty lips is nothing short of stupidly adorable. Even more so is how you look at him with wide, teary eyes. As if that would make his heart soften.

"Finally have something to say or are you just gonna stare at me like a fucked out fool?" Naoya spread your legs, bending to hike your skirt around your waist before fully removing your soaked panties. You were compliant, unmoving while he did as he pleased. To be honest, words failed you more when you needed them most. 

"I– please forgive me for leaving.." 

Naoya perked up when the words left your mouth, his own lips twisting into that of a sinister smile. "So you decided on being a good little bitch." He murmurs, placing a hot kiss on the side of your thigh. You always looked so good sprawled out before him, at his mercy. It had his mind spinning in circles, all the possibilities running rampant. "Where's your fight?" He asked casually, inching closer to your puffy cunt and you look down at him only to snap your head back onto the pillow. 

"I have none, I should have listened the first time." 

That sentence you knew by heart considering you've had to confess your wrong doings on multiple occasions. Naoya hums, content as his nose brushes against your sensitive bundle of nerves. Your body reacts on its own, knees bending and toes curling into the satin sheets. You tried to resist him, tried your damndest but it never worked. It frustrates you, so much that you groan and nearly close your legs around Naoya's stupidly pretty head. 

Firm hands catch your legs and dark eyes land on you. "Oh [Name], tell me what you're feeling. I'm dying to know." He didn't care. You let out a half laugh and sit up on your elbows. 

"I hate you. With my entire being but I can't get away. It's not fair. You're– ahh not f-fair." Your words falter when Naoya's tongue slides up your cunt, lapping up your essence before going back down to your entrance.

"Mhmm.." He listens half heartedly, instead enjoying the sweet taste of you that graces his lips. You became putty in his hands, just like that. So simple, one movement. One hand threaded through his short locks, fingers grasping onto what it could once his tongue dipped inside your awaiting hole. 

"Fuu–" You toss your head back, involuntarily pushing Naoya closer which causes him to chuckle and the rumbling of his body only has you sinking further into his palm. He watched you, how your chest would rise and fall as you panted, moaned and clung to him helplessly. Your reactions had his cock throbbing in his pants and he wasn't going to be able hold out much longer. 

Adjusting one of his arms, Naoya's fingers soon met your clit and circled it quickly, building you higher and higher. Your body jerks and he keeps a hold of you, halting your hips to keep you still. 

You tasted divine, like a special wine made just for Naoya. Your pretty moans were like music to his ears and when he pulls back, the whine that leaves your lips sounded almost sinful. "N-Naoya.." You look at him, eyes blown wide and vulnerable, so close to paradise. He smirks and continues his assault on your clit.

"What? You seem to be getting off just fine with my fingers. Now be a good little slut and cum for me." Naoya coos and just like that, your body listens to his every command. The coil snaps and your body trembles, legs spasming and threatening to close around his head but his unoccupied hand keeps them open while you cry out, incoherent words leaving your lips. 

Naoya can't deny the sight and he groans, the desire to fuck you clouding his thoughts. ""Ah– fuck – what a good girl." He praised, an odd thing coming from him but it has you smiling so stupidly. You watch Naoya through half lidded eyes as he eases you from your high, rubbing small, slow circles around your sensitive clit. Your hips still move with him, your body wanting more.

"Naoya..I need you inside me." You barely manage and if it wasn't for the fact Naoya was so turned on, he would have bitched at you. Instead he uses his free hand to undo his pants and free his aching cock from its hellish confines. 

Your eyes lock onto the throbbing member that now rests in his hand as he pumps it languidly. "Do you really deserve my cock? Last I checked," Naoya hovers above you, situating the tip right at your entrance. "You've been a bad girl." He teases you, pushing the tip just barely inside you before pulling back out. You whine, loudly with a pathetic pout forming on your lips. 

"Please, I need you. So bad, I'll never leave again!" You cry, beg and lift your hips in search of what you wanted so bad. All fight, resistance and negative feelings vanished when all your mind and body wanted was him to consume you..

“Is that so?” Naoya hummed, bottoming out inside of you before you could continue your pleas. Your eyes roll back and he has to suppress the groan that dares escape his own mouth. He never grew tired of how you felt; how your walls fluttered around his cock, how you took him so willingly. So easily. You were truly meant for him. 

The pace is set with languid thrusts, Naoya driving himself deep into your velvety walls. He watches your face contort and twist with pleasure and pain due to his size, it had him surging with a sense of animalistic pride. “Remember who you belong to.” He says lowly in your ear and all you can muster is a quick nod of your head as whimpers and cries leave your delicate lips. Your arms snake around his shoulders, keeping Naoya close while your legs lock around his waist.

“Look at you,” Naoya groans, shifting so that you now sat on his lap, his cock hitting places that made your head spin, “Taking me so well- goddamn - be a little louder. Let everyone hear what a slut you are.” He demands, his voice low and strained. You helplessly comply, bouncing up and down on his lap like a good girl. Your head was warped, just like he wanted. Every moan, cry and wail sounded like a symphony that was only meant for him. Naoya held your hips tightly, guiding your frantic movements, hitting every spot inside you that made you grasp onto him like some type of savior.

Ah yes, Naoya definitely is your savior in his sick twisted head. Though he hisses when your nails scratch his neck, leaving noticeable marks that surely would be questioned later. He didn’t mind, not in the slightest. If anything, it made him fuck you harder, his cock ramming your drenched hole as if it were his last day on this earth. The lewd sounds of your juices squelching every time he fills you had him going crazy and he ignored how you drenched his lap, uncaring of the mess since he so graciously caused it. 

“So close, Naoya please,” Your voice is weak and broken, body trembling as it reaches the peak of nirvana. Naoya wasn’t far off from his own release and instead of being a total asshole like he wanted to be, he held you close.

“Let it go, baby.” He urged before biting down on your neck, sucking the tender spot to leave a claim on your body. You whine and unravel, pleasure overwhelming your body, legs trembling and shaking, you were thankful to be on his lap or you would have gone down. Naoya continues to fuck you, chasing his own release and groaning loudly when hot ropes of cum paint your delicate walls. He fills you completely, uncaring if you ended up bearing one of his kids. Hell the thought only made him feel more possessive. It would give him a greater claim over you, keep you with him.

Before Naoya allowed himself to get aroused once more, he removed you off his lap and got off the dirtied bed to fix his clothing. You watch in your fucked out daze, the grips of confusion and longing playing tug of war in your heart. 

“W-Where are you going?” Your voice sounded so soft, so submissive. Naoya glances back and he admires his handiwork. You were an absolute mess. “You can’t..just leave me like this.” 

How desperate. Naoya bit back a laugh, bending to pick up your discarded panties and toss them onto your stomach. 

“If you want me so bad, you know where to find me.”

With that, Naoya bids his farewells and leaves you like you did to him three months ago. But he knew that you’d come crawling to him before the night ended.

On the other hand, you stared at the ceiling until your heart calmed down and were able to get off the bed. Would you run back to him? Even though you wanted to say no, your body said otherwise with the longing for his touch.

The only thing you knew for certain was that you hated that you loved him. 

[anakinisvaderisanakin]

Seeds of the Past (aka Ahsoka and Luke FINALLY Meet) Fic

She’d waited too long to approach, long enough to make the encounter more awkward than it had to be. He didn’t know her, and she technically didn’t know him either. But she had to know, she had so many questions. She had to speak to him, to confirm the rumors, to put a face to the name that had haunted her so. She hadn’t given the kid much thought when mentioned in passing, had simply celebrated the fact that another talented young pilot had joined the ranks of the Rebellion. She’d already mostly phased out of the Alliance’s radar at that point. Then, she’d caught wind of his last name.

A Jedi, they said. Rebuilding the order, walking in his father’s footsteps. A kind, good hearted, brave young man. The phrasing sounded eerily close to the way in which she had once heard his father described. His father, the only thing they had in common. As she resolutely strode up to the boy, standing not much taller than herself - a slight build, much like his petite mother - she braced herself. All she saw was the back of a black cloak with its hood down, revealing an unruly mop of dark blonde hair. That, too, brought back memories. She took a deep breath, and opened her mouth.

“Are you Luke Skywalker?”

Ahsoka’s tone was a bit harsher than she would have liked, mostly due to a hoarse nervousness. It spurred a reaction though, as the man immediately turned to face her. Her eyes widened, as a familiar shade of blue stared back at her. The man bore a few distinct battle scars, but his face was youthful, his jaw square, his chin dimpled. His expression was surprised but gentle, sweet in its polite greeting. He raised his eyebrows for a split second, before responding with a shy smile and a nod.

“I am. Can I help you, ma’am?”

His voice was soft, and warm, and welcoming. He spoke with an inherent dignity, carried himself with grace, words slow and deliberate and neatly aligned as he spoke. But all Ahsoka could pay attention to was the fact that he had his father’s features. Anakin Skywalker’s features. Blue eyes, sandy blonde hair, boyishly handsome. Clad in black, muted colours.

But Anakin’s son, Luke, had a sweeter disposition. Luke may look like the splitting image of Anakin, but he bore his mother’s fierce, yet restrained edge. The glow in his eyes was hers, the tilt of his chin. Luke was calm, collected, and his small half smile gave off a curious, yet knowing impression. It suited him, and Ahsoka realized she was blatantly staring. She realized she hadn’t even answered his question in turn.

“No. I mean, yes. It’s complicated. I only wanted to see you in person,” she finally said, her sincere tone earning her a perplexed pout.

“See me? Well, I’m afraid I’m not much to look at,” said Luke, another genuine smile gracing his features and Ahsoka recognized Anakin’s sarcasm, his rambunctious sense of humor in the boy - although Luke’s sarcasm was much more mellow and humble than overtly smarmy.

“You look so much like Anakin,” she blurted out without thinking.

Ahsoka had initially wanted to ease Luke into breaching the subject of his paternal legacy, but found it impossible to restrain herself. His expression conveyed some shock, followed by a forlorn sadness as a sombre sense of understanding came over him. Ahsoka gave him an apologetic look, but sensed no emotional discomfort from the boy. It gave her enough courage to continue.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to spring that on you.”

Luke shook his head, still clearly taken aback but his posture was just as inviting as before.

“It’s alright. I’m kind of used to it,” he shrugged and grimaced a bit, then the prevalent curiosity Ahsoka had noticed previously bubbled back up to the surface. “You knew my father?”

“I did, many years ago.”

Ahsoka hoped it came off right. She’d sometimes found herself questioning whether she ever truly knew Anakin at all. The man she had looked up to and admired as an older brother had been jovial, carefree, easy going. Not the sort of man who would fall to the Dark Side, not the sort of man who would committ genocide and murder children. None of the brooding, budding darkness within Anakin that she had come to realize must always have lay dormant.

Anakin had been a perpetual optimist, in her eyes. The Anakin she had seen, the Anakin she had felt but refused to acknowledge until the truth was staring in her right in the face was anything but. Luke had gone to face him and Palpatine alone, how had he lived to tell the tale? Luke seemed so pure and innocent, incorruptible even - but so had Anakin.

“He was my master,” Ahsoka added after some deliberation.

Luke nodded, sharing her grieved expression.

“You’re Ahsoka Tano, aren’t you?”

This time it was Ahsoka’s turn to be surprised, and she tilted her head to the side, scrutinizing the boy’s friendly disposition.

“You’ve heard of me?”

“Just a bit. Father has… spoken of you. Not much, but enough for me to know who you are and what you meant to him,” Luke admitted, and his expression mirrored the apologetic look Ahsoka had shot him earlier. “You and Obi-Wan were such important parts of his life.”

Still visibly sad, there was a jagged edge to Luke’s Force signature upon being reminded of his father’s legacy and the monster he had become - the monster who was thankfully remembered as a separate entity in the wake of his death. Ahsoka furrowed her brow, not understanding what Luke was hinting at, but she accepted it for now. Somewhere deep inside, the knowledge that Anakin had spoken fondly of her and Obi-Wan even whilst overtaken by darkness soothed her. In her youth, Ahsoka may have found it impossible to bide her time and patiently wait for Luke to open up, but now, a kinship needed to be established first hand. She wanted to learn more about Luke, where he had been all this time, and she could sense he wanted to find out what her past held as well.

“I… have so many questions for you, Luke. And hopefully some answers to the questions you wish to ask me, in turn,” she said, almost amused by how similar to Obi-Wan her phrasing came off.

Luke appeared to catch the same vibe, as the corner of his lips twisted slightly upwards. He looked bashful, almost, like a small child. Then again, he was barely more than a child. When Ahsoka was his age, she had already seen war and death for one lifetime - and it was only the beginning. It pained her to know Luke may be dealing with a similarly difficult burden.

“I’m certain you’re right, Ahsoka. Can I call you that?”

Luke’s eyes were questioning her with a hopeful yet timid reverence.

“Yes, of course,” was all she could reply, offering him a warm smile as she reached out by habit and squeezed his shoulder for encouragement.

“In that case, let us talk about it,” Luke said as soon as he was given the go ahead, and Ahsoka could do nothing but agree with the statement.

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Because we all want this to happen in canon, and I can't wait for the moment when it eventually does. I imagine it might go a bit like this, when Ahsoka and Luke finally do get to share the screen together and discuss Anakin's impact on their lives past and present.

Ao3 link below:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31695377