#and hes easily goated by teasing

[nururu]

I'm so shook my lil nort/n aib fic has so many kudos and comments even tho I wrote it like 3yrs ago and didn't edit or spell check it at all and it's full of wrong information/headcanons bc when I wrote it they didn't have certain things confirmed in canon yet. Edited or not it's still better written than most stuff I see these days... I wish I still had the same motivation to write. I'd edited it and update it with current lore and write a second chapter.

[companioncute]

Press your space face close to mine, love

Pairing: Mark Grayson (Invincible (2021)) x f!reader

Summary: sweet, clumsy, giggly sex with your best friend

Notes: No use of Y/N, reader is into comics, reader wears earrings, reader is somewhat quiet during sex (not counting talking), reader wears makeup

Cw: cunnilingus, penetrative sex

Tw: mention of (fictional) sex trafficking

“No, it’s just, like, they can’t bring up sex trafficking and let the buyer fuckin’ get away with it?” you laugh incredulously, tracing the outline of the Alice in Wonderland-esque girls on the page of your Robin: Year One comic. You turn the page, re-reading the foreign president’s claim of diplomatic immunity. “Fucking insane. Where’s the justice?”

Mark hums, his chest rumbling slightly from underneath where your cheek is pressed against his clothed sternum. His large, warm hand is settled loosely on your hipbone, his thumb dipping under your shirt and swiping across your skin. The pads of his fingertips have become rougher with the years of superhero work—no longer soft and delicate like in his childhood.

“Don’t you think that’s on purpose?”

You tut, glancing up at him.

“That’s stupid,” you grumble. “Screw Chuck Dixon.”

“It’s not stupid. It’s realistic,” Mark laugh softly, pressing a totally platonic kiss to the crown of your head. “But it’s your own fault. I told you to go for Frank Miller instead.”

“I heard he’s a weirdo,” you counter, rolling your eyes.

Mark snorts.

“What? He’s a legend. He did The Killing Joke.”

“No, he didn’t?” You laugh, shuffling around to grin up at him with your chests now pressed against each other. “That’s Alan Moore, doofus.”

You’re met with a sheepish, crooked grin. Mark shrugs.

“You’re the DC geek, not me. I stay loyal to my GOAT.”

“Oh, Seance Dog, huh?” You giggle, playfully digging your fingers into Mark’s ribs.

He laughs, grabbing onto your wrists with his warm and slightly clammy hands, tugging them away.

“Cut it out,” he says, wrapping his arms around you tightly in a caging embrace. He squeezes gently, ever careful not to hurt you with his superhuman strength, but still enough to immobilize you. “I’ve got you now.”

“Mark!” You shriek, wiggling in his grasp but to no avail. You laugh, dropping your head into the crook of his neck with a huff. “Oh— oh, real funny. Let me go.”

“Nuh-uh,” he teases, blowing a raspberry at you. “Apologize.”

You continue to laugh softly, lifting your head. The tip of your nose brushes against his jaw, then up to his cheek. It’s incredibly unsexy how the overly sensitive pickup of his old record player jumps at your ministrations in bed, making a shuffling noise over his speakers before skipping from the beginning of David Bowie’s Soul Love to somewhere in the middle of Moonage Daydream.

Still giggling, you press a lingering kiss to his cheek alongside a muttered apology.

“No— no worries,” Mark murmurs, smiling softly at you. The moment is quiet, save for the hum of the electric guitar, saxophone, and pennywhistle of the Ziggy Stardust version of the song playing. He reaches up, his fingers gingerly brushing across your brow-bone.

“Is Bowie having an influence on me or are we having a moment?” He asks with a wry smile.

“I think that’s actually the body’s natural reaction to hearing David Bowie and looking someone deeply into the eyes,” you whisper-giggle, nudging the tip of his nose with your own.

“A-ha,” Mark says, smiling back at you. “You’re so smart. Did I ever tell you that?”

“Mhm,” you hum, “but I like hearing it.”

At some point, Moonage Daydream becomes Starman, and you can’t help but let out another laugh.

“That’s you,” you say, still laying half on top of him. “Starman. From the stars. An alien—“

“Comedic genius we’ve got here,” he laughs with a grin, moving you fully on top of him with his hands planted on your ribcage. He sits up, tugging you closer easily and leans in to kiss you. His lips are thin but soft, experimentally capturing your bottom lip. The touch is lingering, and he only lets go after a few long seconds, then awaits your reaction.

Your tongue darts out, wetting your lips as you consider the kiss. It was nice. Really nice. You can’t remember the last time your heart beat this fast.

“You okay?” He whispers, bringing one hand up to your cheek. “We can stop.”

You shake your head.

“I liked it,” you whisper, smiling. “You’re a good kisser.”

He grins cockily, the hand on your ribcage sliding down to the small of your back.

“Oh, baby, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”

You snort, giving him a gentle and playful shove against his firm chest.

“Cut it out, loser,” you laugh before leaning in to kiss him again. “You’re so stupid. I hate you.”

“Uh-huh,” he hums in between soft, tender kisses. “Love you, too.”

He lowers his back onto the bed and you follow, placing a hand down on the bed for support when—

“Fuck!” You laugh, quickly shifting your weight to the other hand now planted on his chest. You scramble for the trade paperback you just crunched underneath your hand. “No! My baby!”

“I thought I was your baby,” Mark laughs, helping you move the slightly creased comic off the bed. “Here, c’mere.”

He lifts you into his arms, his hands planted firmly underneath your ass as he allows you to place the book back into its box set case. Then, as he walks back toward his bed, he trips over a discarded Seance Dog figurine with pointy ears that dig into the sole of his foot. He yelps, stumbling forward but retaining his grip on you as he turn around mid-air, catching himself with the internal center of gravity that allows him to float.

You shriek, laughing as you smack into his chest.

“Careful!” You laugh, kissing the corner of his slanted eye. “You’re gonna drop me!”

“I’d never drop you,” he laughs, turning his face to kiss your cheek. “I got you. Yeah? Always got you.”

He settles the two of you back into the bed carefully with you on your back and him on top of you. Something seems to click in his mind as he suddenly begins to shift your position.

“Sorry, you’ll probably not want me on top—“

“Mark,” you laugh softly, stopping him. “No, stop. You’re overthinking it. I like it.”

“Yeah?” He whispers with a shy grin, sliding in between your legs as he leans down. “Don’t know why we’ve never done this before.”

“Never thought I was your type,” you respond, brushing his inky hair back. “You’ve always gone for, like… cool, capable types. Uh, serious types, I guess.”

He raises a brow.

“Are you implying that you’re not cool and capable? ‘Cause that’s just not true.”

“Alright, alright,” you chuckle, leaning up to kiss him again. “You know what I mean. I didn’t think you saw me as, like…”

“I do,” he says, his smile softening. “Very much. Always have. If anything, I didn’t think you thought I had the potential. I thought you saw me as this annoying brother—“

“Nuh-uh, no way,” you stop him. “Too weird.”

“Understood,” he chuckles, capturing your lips once again. His hand comes up to cradle your jaw as he gently pries your lips apart. His experience isn’t vast, but he makes do with what he has. Warm, fresh blood pumps through your blood vessels as your heart beats faster and you feel flustered. It’s all too much and not enough as he kisses you slowly, only to end up breaking it because he’s unable to contain his smile.

“You are… unbelievably beautiful,” he whispers, peppering your face with soft, almost chaste, kisses. “Not to mention fucking cool. Don’t ever doubt that.”

“You’re awfully sweet,” you breathe out, your chest rising and falling with your quickened breath. “But you always have been, I guess.”

“Nothing compared to you,” he exhales, trailing his lips down the column of your throat. “Sweet girl. Pretty girl.”

He laughs softly against your warm skin.

“Sorry. I’m being corny.”

A weak grin tugs at the corners of your lips, only held back by your breathlessness.

“I like corny,” you whisper, the words softer and more tender than you mean for them to be.

“You do?” Mark asks uncertainly. Something tugs at his heart as he’s briefly reminded of a time long ago when Amber dismissed his attempt at a pet name (baby) (totally reasonable and fair! People have their preferences, but he’d be lying if he said it didn’t bring him down a little).

“Yeah,” you laugh softly, fingers threading through his hair. “It’s sweet. None of that pornified dirty talk.”

“What? You don’t want this big cock?” He asks, slotting himself against your hips and purposefully lowering his voice and pushing his chest out comically. “Bet you’ve never had a real man, sweetheart.”

You snort, exploding in a flurry of giggles as you push his shoulder (gently).

“Shut the fuck up,” you laugh, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Yeah, that’s right,” he continues in the voice. “Choke on my huge fuckin’—“

You laugh, burying your face in the crook of his neck. Mark smiled warmly, unable to contain his own laughter.

“Too corny?” He asks.

“Too porn-y,” you correct him, wiping the mirthful tears that have escaped your eyes.

He laughs, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Okay. Sorry, sorry.”

His fingers dip underneath the bottom hemline of your shirt, splaying out against your skin.

“Hey, can I— can I take your shirt off?” He asks, biting the inside of his cheek. His skin is flushed, tinted red, and he looks down at you with so much happiness in his eyes.

“Yeah— yeah, okay,” you breathe out, adjusting yourself on the bed as he clumsily begins tugging your shirt up. It gets stuck at multiple points—below your back, in your earrings, but amidst both of your giggling, Mark manages to get it off. He glances down at your exposed torso with a small grin.

“Nice,” he whispers to himself, nodding.

“Shut up, dork,” you laugh, tugging on his sky blue t-shirt that fits wonderfully snugly around his biceps. “Quid pro quo.”

“Oh, you wanna get me naked, huh?” He laughs, briefly letting go of you to tug the shirt over his head, only for the crew neck to get caught on his nose.

Sitting up with a laugh, you reach up to help him get untangled.

“My hero,” he sighs blissfully, wrapping his bare arms around you again as he leans in to kiss you. The shirt is discarded somewhere on the floor now, but your focus is solely on the feeling of his warm, broad chest pressed against your own.

Your hand trails down his chest, then further down across his abdomen. The muscles below your fingertips tighten, and Mark smiles into the kiss. You meet the waistline of his jeans, finding the edge of an elastic band peeking out along the periphery. Teasingly, you pull it out and let it snap back against his skin.

“Hey!” He laughs, nipping at your jaw. “I’m supposed to do that!”

“Too little, too late, lover boy,” you snort, pressing another soft kiss to his lips. Your hand still rests on his lower abdomen, your thumb swiping down from his navel and over the beginning trail of dark hair.

He sighs, reaching up with both hands to cup your face as he deepens the kiss. With your bottom lip between both of his and the occasional bump of noses or clash of teeth, he tilts your head back and lets his tongue dart out against yours—briefly, tastefully.

“Hey,” he pants softly, “are we—?“

“Yeah?” You murmur in between kisses. “If— if you want to—?”

“I do, I do,” he laughs, kissing your cheek. “Very much so. Should we discuss the, uh, implications?”

You’re still laughing softly alongside him, nudging his nose with yours.

“I… I like you,” you admit. “If you want more, that’s… great. If not, that’s cool, too. I’m fine either way.”

“Okay,” he says with a smile. “I mean, I… very much would like something more.”

“Great,” you say, your smile widening. “I was totally downplaying my feelings by the way.”

“No, I know,” he laughs, reaching down to tug your bottoms down. “Hips, please.”

It takes you a second to register his request, but then you’re shifting your weight back against your shoulders and pressing into the bed as you lift your hips. With a slight struggle (technical, not physical. He could’ve ripped them off you easily, but he knows you’re fond of your clothes), he manages to shrug them down and leave you in your underwear.

“Cute,” he comments, running a hand up your hip.

“Thanks,” you respond. You hook your fingers into the belt loops of his jeans and tug. “Your turn.”

He grins, fumbling with the button for a moment before unzipping, floating above the bed as he scrambles to get his jeans down past his knees.

“Socks off, too, you freak,” you laughs watching him curl around himself to disrobe.

“I don’t know, I think socks-on is kind of sexy,” he jokes, lowering himself to the bed again as he crawls over you.

You lean up to kiss him.

“Gross. Never ever express your personal opinion again.”

He snorts, giggling as he leans into the kiss. His lips trail down your throat and collarbone, then further down over the curve of your breast. He fumbles to discard your personal choice of bra style before hesitantly glancing up at you.

You nod, smiling encouragingly as you run your fingers through his hair, your nails scraping against his scalp.

He sighs blissfully, capturing your nipple between his lips in a soft, brief kiss before continuing down the underside of your breast. His hand comes to gently press against your other breast, his thumb running over the summit of your areola where your nipple peaks.

Continuing his descend, his lips trail down your stomach all the way down to the edge of your underwear. He shifts in bed, slipping his arms around your thighs as he lowers himself, his nose pressing into your clothed clit as he gingerly mouths at the (slightly) soaked material.

You inhale sharply, tensing up slightly.

“You know what you’re doing?” You croak out in an attempt at being playful.

“Yeah,” Mark responds confidently, then falters and grins sheepishly. “Kind of? I think?”

“You think,” you repeat with a soft, breathless laugh, letting your head fall back against his pillow (which smells just like him; fresh and soapy and something vaguely Mark).

“Just let me try,” he laughs, tugging your underwear down. “Tell me if it’s too horrible.”

“I guess I’ll sacrifice myself,” you giggle, smiling up at the Seance Dog poster above his bed.

“How noble of you,” he giggles before experimentally licking up the underside of your clit. The pressure is weird and sharp even though it’s vaguely pleasurable and you make a disgruntled noise, shifting slightly away.

“Wha—? Not good?” He asks, looking up at you with wide eyes.

“No,” you respond carefully, not wanting to discourage him but also not wanting to lie. “Uh, weird. The angle is… I don’t know.”

“Okay,” he responds, cheeks slightly red with embarrassment. “Okay, no, sure. I can take criticism. I’ll— let me try something different.”

He tilts his head down slightly while moving up, suctioning on your clit but this time from above and pressing down. His tongue swipes side-to-side to the best of his ability.

Dropping your shoulders, you feel your body become less tense. You sink into the bed, sighing as you thread your fingers through Mark’s hair.

“Better?” He murmurs, licking down to your opening before returning his attention to your clit.

“Yeah,” you laugh softly, smiling blissfully. “Maybe you do know what you’re doing.”

“Hey, female anatomy is different on every woman,” he laughs, continuing to kiss your clit while now slipping a singular finger into your entrance. “It’s not like there’s a guidebook, and you’d rock my shit if I used porn as my inspiration.”

“Duh,” you sigh, humming softly. Your eyes are closed, and the only indicator that you’re being pleasured is the warmth to your skin and your slightly labored breathing. “It’s an exploitative business that preys on marginalized women.”

“You’re so sexy when you care about the state of the world,” Mark laughs softly, hesitantly prodding with another finger. “This okay?”

“Mhm,” you hum, wetness lubricating you enough to allow for both his middle and ring finger to slowly slide inside you. The actual penetration itself does little for you, the main pleasure deriving instead from his attention on your clit, but the feeling of having Mark—your Mark—so close is comforting and adds to the sensuality of the experience. You sigh, shifting your hips slightly. “S’nice.”

“Just nice?” He asks softly with a small smile.

“You know what I mean,” you laugh softly, your breath hitching slightly as you feel yourself approaching an orgasm. “Really nice.”

“I aim to please,” he hums, sliding his fingers deeper into you as he licks into your sex.

“When do you not?” You ask breathlessly, smiling down at him. Your eyes meet and he squeezes your thigh gently, appreciating the understanding you always seem to have for him.

He continues to gently but eagerly eat you out, and by the time you’ve hit the 2-minute mark and you haven’t come, you start feeling guilty.

“You don’t have to continue,” you murmur, a foreign shame and sensation of self-disgust and greed hitting you. “We can move on to—“

“Baby, I’ve got a superhuman jaw and tongue,” he says playfully while smiling reassuringly up at you. “I can handle this. And you need to get out of your own head. You’re the one always talking about how male-centered sex is and how misogynistic it is that anything female-centered is considered foreplay.”

You grin softly.

“So you do listen to my rants.”

“Are you kidding me?” He laughs. “I love hearing you talk. And, you’ve got great points. I learn something new every day.”

With that, you allow yourself to be selfishly pleasured. You allow yourself to let the focus, the attention, be solely on you for no other reason than the fact that Mark wants it to be on you. A few moments later, your breathing becomes more shallow, your hips more restless as you buck up against Mark’s mouth, your grip on his hair tightening.

“Mh— ah,” you whisper, brows furrowed together. “Oh.”

Mark grins victoriously, your reaction renewing his energy.

“Close?”

“Yeah,” you breathe out, laughing softly as you raise yourself to your elbows. “Mmh…”

Mark focuses his attention on your clit, a dedicated concentration used as he continues to mouth at you until finally, you inhale deeply, your grip on his hair tightening. You tense up, curling up into his touch and stilling for a moment before shaking lightly, your hips bucking upward a few times. The quietest of whines escape you.

Slowly, you relax back against the bed, your fingers uncurling from his now slightly damp hair.

“How’d I do?” He asks, coming up with a bright puppy-like grin.

“Good,” you exhale, your skin pulsing with the rush of fresh blood throughout your body. “Really good.”

He leans down to kiss you deeply—sloppily this time, less controlled. More saliva is exchanged given his previous excessive use of his tongue which has clearly activated the salivary glands, but it’s sweet and tender nonetheless.

You pant softly against his lips for a few moments, catching your breath before you speak.

“Let me repay the favor—“

“Not a favor,” Mark interrupts, kissing your forehead. “My pleasure. We could also just stop now if you’re not up for more.”

His words are sincere, but the firm outline of his dick against your thigh tells you that he would very much enjoy continuing.

“C’mere,” you murmur, tugging him down for another kiss. You hesitantly bring your hand down to rub over his bulge, amused by how it feels both hard and soft at the same time.

Mark exhales shakily, dropping his head down into the crook of your neck.

“Mmh… that’s nice.”

“Just nice?” You murmur, mimicking his own previous words. You try to get a feel for the shape of him, but as he begins to slowly rock his hips into your hand, a nicer, less teasing side of you takes over and you tug down his boxers.

Much like the rest of him, he’s pretty. Just above average in length, slender, the same fair color as the rest of him but with a reddened, uncut tip. The base is covered in a well-groomed layer of dark hair.

“Don’t stare at my dick, you weirdo,” he laughs, capturing your lips in another kiss.

“You just spent the last five minutes between my legs, I’m allowed compensation.”

He scrunches up his nose, snorting.

“When you put it like that…”

He hooks his hands under your knees, lifting slightly as he hovers above you. He grabs onto his dick, gently stroking it before nudging the tip against your soaked pussy, slowly easing the inches inside.

“You okay? Tell me if you’re not okay,” Mark says softly, worry lacing his tone despite his eager outward appearance.

You nod, feeling the slightest of stretches, though he’s spent so long working you open that it’s little more than a pinch.

“I’m okay,” you whisper, letting out a breathless laugh.

“Good, good,” he laughs softly, groaning as he bottoms out. He takes a second to just settle inside you, his nose pressed into the dewy skin of your neck. He breathes slowly, his hands running up and down your sides. Still not moving, he peppers soft kisses up your neck.

“Wait, fuck!” He laughs, pulling out of you and scrambling toward his bedside table drawer. “Condom!”

“Oh, my God,” you laugh, covering your face with your hands as you giggle.

“Safe sex. Hell yeah,” Mark says, ripping open the package. He fishes out the condom, fumbling slightly as he pinches the slippery tip before rolling it down. “Don’t worry, babe. I got this. Basically a pro.”

“You’re such an idiot,” you laugh, smiling lovingly at him.

“All part of the appeal,” he laughs softly, gently re-entering you. “Still good?”

“Uh-huh,” you say softly. “Babe, huh?”

“Do you hate it?” He ask, cringing. “I can—“

“No,” you interrupt with a soft laugh, leaning up to kiss him again. “No, I like it. I like all the corny nicknames.”

“Yeah?” He asks, perking up. “Cute-pie. Sweetie. Gorgeous. Pretty, pretty girl.”

Steadily, he begins to rock his hips against you, exhaling shakily as you squeeze around him.

You hum softly, curling your hand around the back of his neck as you let him build up a rhythm. Your legs wrap around his hips, your own hips lifting with every slow thrust to meet him halfway. The penetration feels slightly strange, too intrusive and filling, but Mark’s reassuring smile has you smiling back and feeling comfortable. Once again, you don’t feel much pleasure from the friction inside you, but you find yourself enjoying being close to Mark.

He reaches down with one shaky hand, his finger coming down to press firmly against your clit while swiping against it.

“It’s hard to keep the pace actually,” he laughs softly, struggling with his finger. “It’s very slippery.”

“You’re doing just fine,” you laugh softly back, leaning up to kiss him.

Mark continues his pace, his thrusts short and slow as he kisses you back. It’s sweet how he kisses you, entirely focused on the sensation of lips against lips. His breathing becomes shallow and he groans quietly into your mouth.

“You’re so quiet,” he pants softly. “I feel like an idiot next to you.”

“No, no, don’t,” you whisper, peppering his face with reassuring kisses. “I like hearing you. And I feel really good, noise just doesn’t really come easily to me, y’know? But it feels good.”

“Okay,” he pants softly, followed by a whine. “I trust you. I believe you.”

You smile, kissing him again. Turns out you really like kissing him.

Soon enough his hips stutter against yours and he hides his face in the crook of your neck as he groans lowly, thrusting loosely into you as he comes. He stills, though his fingers continue to rub against you until you follow with a quiet, hitched gasp moments later.

You grab onto his hand, pressing it against your sex for another moment until the pressure is relieved and you can stand coming down from the intense stimulation.

Mark slumps down on the bed next to you, fumbling with unrolling the slippery latex around his dick before he can toss it in the trash can.

“Oh, man,” he laughs softly, rubbing a hand across his dewy, pink face. “That was insane. You’re insane.”

He turns, resting on one elbow as he leans over to kiss you.

“You’ve ruined me, I think. Like, permanently.”

You laugh softly into the kiss, reaching up to caress his face.

“There’s that sweetness again,” you murmur.

He grins, kissing the tip of your nose.

“You’re even prettier now,” he says, reaching up to smudge out the mascara stains on your eyelids. “Pretty girl.”

“Pretty boy,” you counter playfully.

“Got nothing on you,” he laughs, wrapping his bare arms tightly around you. While squeezing, he presses slow, languid kisses down the side of your face and neck. “Prettiest girl in the world.”

You smile, relaxing in his strong grip.

“Always got you,” he murmurs softly. “Except for now. You should go avoid a UTI.”

You laugh again, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before reaching down for your shirt.

“As long as I don’t meet your mom on my way to the bathroom, I’ll be fine.”

You stand up, stretching out your limbs before climbing back into your bottoms.

Mark let’s out a teasing purr from where he’s lying in bed, the covers only pulled up halfway across his hips.

“Come here often?” He asks, winking at you.

“I sure hope so,” you say with a soft chuckle, leaning down to kiss his forehead.

Mark smiles lovingly up at you,

“Is it super dorky and loser-like if I say I think I love you?”

“Yeah,” you say with a small grin. “But I guess that’s part of your appeal.”

“Right?” He laughs, locking his hands behind his head as he stretches out.

“I love you, too, dummy,” you laugh softly before slipping out of his bedroom and down the hall toward the bathroom.

[padmesweetheart]

What Fresh Hell Is This?

Pairing: Hayden Christensen x Younger!Wife!Reader

Genre: Humor, Fluff, Domestic Chaos, Protective Husband Overdrive

It was supposed to be another quiet evening.

Hayden had just gotten back from running a few errands in town, the late evening sun painting everything in a soft golden hue. He parked the truck, humming along to some old 90’s song, feeling pretty good about life. He had plans: cook dinner, maybe coax you into watching a movie curled up against him — a simple, perfect night.

Until he turned the corner toward the back porch.

And found you.

Dear God.

You.

Standing barefoot on the wooden planks, cigarette dangling precariously from your fingers, a White Claw in your other hand like it was a trophy.

Pants — sweatpants he was pretty sure he hadn’t seen since 2005 — were slung dangerously low on your hips, sagging like you’d lost the will to care.

And the shirt.

Oh, the shirt.

An ancient, oversized graphic tee from some random Canadian band he barely remembered listening to, stained with what looked like ketchup, coffee, and maybe… motor oil? (How??)

Your hair was a mess.

Your makeup was half-smudged, like a raccoon that had fought valiantly and lost.

You looked like a drunk, rebellious, homeless man — the most beautiful disaster he’d ever seen.

Hayden froze at the bottom step, grocery bag in hand, just staring.

You blinked at him, bleary-eyed, and gave a tiny two-finger salute with the cigarette.

“‘Sup,” you said, slurring a little.

He dropped the bag. Actually dropped it. A tomato rolled out and bumped his boot.

“What…” His voice cracked. “What fresh hell is this?”

You giggled drunkenly, taking a triumphant sip of your White Claw.

“I upgraded,” you said proudly, lifting the can like it was a chalice. “New poison. Less caffeine. More vibes.”

He stared harder. “White Claw. And you’re smoking again?” His voice pitched higher with every word.

You shrugged, swaying slightly. “It’s fine. S’mango flavor. Counts as fruit.”

He ran a hand through his hair, looking like he was about to have a religious crisis. “Baby. My love. My sweet little war criminal. You look like you just lost a custody battle with your own reflection.”

You cackled at that, leaning heavily against the porch railing, cigarette smoke swirling around your head like a halo from hell.

He bounded up the stairs two at a time, gently but firmly plucking the cigarette from your hand first, then the White Claw.

“Nope,” he said sternly, dropping the cigarette into a nearby flowerpot again and setting the White Claw far out of your staggering reach. “No more drinking half a case of sad juice and committing crimes against fashion on my property.”

You pouted, swaying toward him like a ship in a storm. “You’re so uptight,” you muttered.

He caught you easily, steadying you against his chest, tucking your messy hair behind your ear with a tenderness that didn’t match the exasperated sigh escaping his lips.

“Yeah, and you’re two bad decisions away from trying to fight the neighbor’s goat,” he said fondly.

You snickered into his shirt. “I’d win.”

He kissed the top of your head, breathing in the lingering scent of cigarette smoke and mango-flavored regret.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he mumbled. “A beautiful, chaotic death.”

“You love it,” you teased, lifting your head enough to meet his soft, amused eyes.

He smiled, slow and helpless. “God help me, I really do.”

Then, with absolutely no warning, he hooked an arm under your legs and scooped you up bridal-style, ignoring your squeal of surprise.

“You’re going inside,” he declared. “You’re taking a shower. I’m feeding you. And you’re sleeping off your White Claw bender before you start another revolution out here.”

You clung to his neck, giggling as he carried you across the porch like a man rescuing a very drunk princess from herself.

And as he kicked the door shut behind him, you whispered dramatically against his throat:

“Viva la resistance.”

He just laughed, low and warm, squeezing you tighter.

“My little Crazy Lady.” he murmured. “Mine.”

[dearlenore]

LATE NIGHT BABY CRAVING. / L.ALVEZ / SUMMARY - Luke struggles to accommodate all your cravings

PAIRING: pregnant!reader x luke alvez / w/c: 1.6k / fluff

a/n: I got this idea from another tumblr user’s story so shout out to that person’s aunt who accused them of not accepting them into the family cuz she was pregnant, ur the goat

Luke was struggling. He tried, believe him, he tried. Somehow everything you ate had to be specifically planed, craved before he could think of bringing it to you.

After the first few times, he got the hang of it.

Or so he thought.

The soft hum of your favorite playlist filled the quiet kitchen, sunlight streaming through the open windows and catching on the edge of a glass bowl Luke was fussing over like it was some top-secret assignment. You sat at the kitchen island, belly round and prominent beneath the oversized T-shirt that used to be his, legs swinging lazily as you scrolled through baby name lists on your phone.

Luke stood at the counter, brow furrowed, sleeves pushed up, chopping vegetables like he was about to interrogate them.

“You’re concentrating really hard over there, Alvez,” you teased, biting back a smile.

He looked up, holding a cucumber slice between his fingers like it was evidence. “Because I’m making something for my very demanding, very pregnant girlfriend,” he said, flashing that charming half-grin.

“I’m not demanding,” you said innocently, setting your phone down. “I just have preferences. Strong preferences. And a violent aversion to olives right now.”

Luke chuckled under his breath. “Noted. No olives. Ever. Again.”

You watched him toss a handful of chopped tomatoes into the bowl, followed by some avocado and red onions, before drizzling in olive oil and squeezing half a lemon over it with all the flair of a five-star chef. Honestly, the man was dangerous—FBI agent by day, salad whisperer by afternoon.

He turned to you, holding the bowl out with a flourish. “Try it.”

You blinked, lips curling. “Is that lettuce?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re offering me lettuce?”

He paused, clearly sensing a trap. “Yes…?”

You gave him a dramatic gasp, pressing a hand to your chest. “You hate me.”

Luke blinked. “What?”

“You want me to suffer,” you continued, voice dripping with faux betrayal. “You took one look at your pregnant, hormonal girlfriend, who grew your baby, and said, ‘You know what she needs? Leaves.’”

Luke groaned, walking around the island to place the bowl gently in front of you. “It’s not just leaves. It’s baby spinach, which has iron, which you need, and avocado, which you love, and it’s dressed in your favorite lemon vinaigrette, which I made from scratch, by the way.”

You leaned closer to the bowl, inspecting it. “Hmm. Still feels like an attack.”

Luke narrowed his eyes, leaning down until your faces were only inches apart. “If this is an attack, it’s the nicest one you’ll ever get. I even peeled the cucumbers.”

You sighed dreamily. “Fine. I’ll allow it. But only because you’re hot.”

He chuckled, his hand coming to rest on the swell of your belly. “And because I rubbed your back last night?”

“That too.”

You picked up the fork and took a bite. Damn it. It was good. But you couldn’t let him win that easily.

You chewed slowly, eyes locked with his. “Okay, this is… amazing. But I still feel like I deserve a cookie for being tricked into eating vegetables.”

Luke grinned, brushing a kiss to your temple. “There’s cookie dough chilling in the fridge. Chocolate chip. I know what I’m doing.”

You melted into him, resting your head on his shoulder as he stood beside you. His hand slipped from your belly to your back, rubbing soft, lazy circles. The baby gave a soft kick—just a flutter—and you both paused, looking at each other with that wide-eyed wonder that hadn’t worn off yet.

Luke leaned slightly, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “They like the salad. Told you.”

You laughed, fingers in his hair. “That, or they’re trying to kick their way out to get the cookie.”

Luke smirked. “Definitely your kid.”

You smiled down at him, eyes soft. “You don’t hate me.”

He stood, kissing you full on the lips this time—slow, sweet, full of every unspoken thing between you.

“Never. Not even a little,” he murmured.

But that was when you were being easy.

When you wanted to be difficult it looked a little more like this…

It started with a craving.

A deep, soul-stirring, undeniable craving. One minute, you were nestled on the couch, half-dozing in one of Luke’s hoodies, a baby blanket pulled up over your legs and the soft hum of a true crime documentary playing in the background. The next, your eyes open with the urgent clarity of a prophet receiving a vision.

“I need Chick-fil-A.”

Luke, sitting beside you with a tablet in hand and Roxy curled up by his feet, looked up slowly. “You need… what?”

You sat up, wide-eyed, rubbing your belly. “Chick-fil-A. Chicken sandwich. Extra pickles. Large waffle fries. And a lemonade.”

He blinked. “Babe, the nearest Chick-fil-A is, like, thirty minutes away.”

“I know,” you said solemnly. “I googled it.”

Luke raised a brow, setting the tablet down. “You want me to drive thirty minutes… for fast food?”

You nodded, serious as ever. “Yes.”

There was a beat of silence as Roxy yawned dramatically, clearly sensing something was about to go down.

Luke exhaled a slow breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Didn’t I just make you a salad?”

“And it was delicious, my love,” you said sweetly, placing a hand on his thigh. “But now I need a chicken sandwich. And waffle fries. And maybe a milkshake. It’s not my fault. It’s your baby’s fault. She’s got taste.”

“She?” he echoed, smirking. “You’re suddenly team girl now?”

You shrugged. “Only girls crave lemonade that specific. I don’t make the rules.”

Luke stood up, looking entirely too dramatic for a man whose girlfriend was literally carrying his child. “You know this is how people end up in those ‘crazy partner’ Reddit threads, right? Driving across state lines for pickles or whatever?”

You narrowed your eyes. “You’re not gonna make me cry, are you, Alvez? Because I can cry. Like, right now.”

Luke pointed at you with mock sternness. “Emotional manipulation.”

You pouted.

He sighed.

And thirty minutes later, you were in the car.

The drive started with you grinning triumphantly, feet propped on the dashboard, one hand on your belly, the other wrapped around the XL insulated water bottle he made you take everywhere. Luke glanced at you from the corner of his eye every few minutes like he couldn’t believe what he’d agreed to.

“Just so we’re clear,” he said, “this better be the best damn chicken sandwich in the entire country.”

“Oh, it will be,” you replied, rolling the window down a little to feel the breeze. “And I’ll share my fries with you. Maybe.”

“Wow. Generous.”

“Don’t say I never give you anything.”

You could see him fighting a smile. His hand slid across the console, resting on your thigh as he drove. That familiar, warm touch of his made your chest ache in the best way. He always did that—casual, grounding, soft. No matter how chaotic life got, Luke always found a way to hold you steady.

“How’s the baby?” he asked quietly, giving your thigh a gentle squeeze.

You smiled, placing your hand over his. “Chilling. I think she’s just excited for chicken.”

Luke laughed under his breath. “Think she’s more into nuggets or chicken sandwiches?”

You gasped. “That’s her nickname now. Nugget.”

He shook his head, clearly regretting it. “God help her.”

You spent the rest of the ride making up possible baby names based on your food cravings.

“Chickaletta.”

“Stop.”

“Waffleina.”

“Do you want me to pull over and leave you here?”

“Fine,” you huffed. “You name her.”

“Elena.”

You blinked. “That’s… actually really cute.”

“Told you.”

You leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Elena ‘Nugget’ Alvez. It’s got a ring to it.”

“Babe, no.”

When you finally pulled into the Chick-fil-A parking lot, you practically jumped out of the car before he even turned off the engine.

Luke followed behind, calm and unhurried, while you stood in front of the counter like a general leading her troops. “One classic chicken sandwich. No lettuce. Extra pickles. Large waffle fries. Lemonade. No pulp. And… oh! Cookies and cream milkshake.”

The poor teen at the register blinked. “Will that be all?”

You looked to Luke, who just raised his brows. “Better throw in some nuggets, too.”

“God, I love you,” you whispered, pressing a hand to your heart.

Back in the car, you unwrapped your sandwich like it was a religious relic and took a bite so dramatic that Luke choked on his lemonade laughing.

“You’re embarrassing,” he said.

You chewed slowly, savoring it. “You hate me.”

He smiled softly. “You’re right. I drove you thirty minutes to fulfill a craving and bought you half the menu. Clearly, I’m plotting your downfall.”

“You probably are,” you said around a mouthful of fries. “This feels like sabotage. You want me to get even bigger so I can’t run away.”

Luke snorted. “You’re carrying our kid. You’re glowing. And if you got any more beautiful, I’d have to fight off strangers in the street.”

You paused mid-bite. “Okay, fine. You can have three fries.”

“Generous again,” he muttered, stealing one anyway.

You leaned your head on his shoulder, full and happy, a little sleepy from the ride, his arm curling around you in that way that always made you feel invincible. The baby kicked lightly, like she was content too. Nugget approved.

Thirty minutes away or not… this was everything.

And he was everything.

Your soldier. Your salad-maker, drive-across-town-for-chicken sandwich guy.

And soon, your baby’s dad.

You smiled up at him, wiping some sauce from his chin.

“I’d do this all over again tomorrow.”

Luke looked over, deadpan. “We’re not doing this tomorrow.”

“We’ll see.”

[tpwk-formula1]

TIME TO ORDER MY PIZZA

RAHHHH

aight. lets have an ob87 with the sicillian crust, red sauce, pepperoni, jalapenos, mushrooms, chicken, cilantro, buffalo chicken, gorgonzola and parmesan cheese, roasted artichokes, anchovies, goat cheese

and beer, sprite, and dessert <3 

TYSM

AN: Hi! Day two of following my schedule! I hope everyone has an amazing day! I'm working on the 2K Special and I am so excited for you guys to meet all our new AUs <3

TW: Unprotected sex, rough, dirty talk, oral, edging, begging

WC: 2.1K

Ollie Bearman x bratty! reader

sicilian crust dating red sauce rough sex pepperoni "Be a good girl, and you'll get what you want" jalapenos "Always such a fucking brat" mushrooms "Wrong, wanna try again" chicken "Awe, you thought I'd let you cum that easy?" cilantro "Stop crying and fucking take it" buffalo chicken "Such a fucking crybaby, just fucking take it all" gorgonzola "Are you always this fucking loud?" parmesan cheese "Awe... did that hurt? Tuff luck I'm gonna do it again" roasted artichokes “im gonna put a baby in you” anchovies "How are you already drenched" goat cheese "Get on your knees and beg" beer edging sprite size kink dessert yes served by Ollie Bearman

Y/N POV

"Always such a fucking brat," I hear Ollie seethe a whisper into my ear. Making me smirk softly.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Ollie," I say softly with a bright smile playing on my lips trying to fray innocence. Ollie doesn't even buy it for a split second just sending me a warning look before walking back towards his engineers to talk about the upcoming race.

I quickly turn my attention back to Kimi and resume my "flirty" which really just consisided of Kimi and I laughing over the fact that we are very clearly baiting Ollie to finally make a move.

"You're pissing him off," Kimi giggles making me look over my shoulder to find Ollie giving me a raised brow making me turn back giggling knowing our plan was going perfectly.

"The fact that it's only been you to get a rise out of him," I say making Kimi laugh and shake his head softly.

"This better work out for you guys. I still can't believe how obvious both of your guys feelings are to everyone around. Hell you even know Ollie likes you but he's so oblivious he doesn't realize how much you already like him," Kimi says laughing and shaking his head before walking to his engineers leaving me to find Ollie.

"Go back to Kimi," Ollie says not even looking up from his phone making me laugh softly.

"Ollie you cannot be serious," I say softly.

"I thought we agreed to figure out what was going on between us before talking to anyone else," Ollie says making me roll my eyes. My reaction only get Ollie to scoff and stand up letting his size tower over mine.

"Either stop being such a fucking brat or go back and giggle with Kimi," Ollie tells me in a stern voice that should problem instill a bit of fear but instead it has me clenching my thighs together.

"Are you getting off on pissing me off or is Kimi that much better then me," Ollie scoffs rolling his eyes. I can tell how mad he already is but what can I say... I like to poke the bear. (pun very intended)

"Just thinking about what Kimi was saying earlier," I say in a teasing tone before sending a smirk.

Before I can even start laughing to let Ollie know it was all a joke and he had taken the bait so easily it was like taking candy from a baby, he had me pushed against the wall with his hand around my neck.

"Wrong, wanna try that again," Ollie growls looking down at me. I can't help the moan that slips between my lips making Ollie smirk slightly.

"It was a set up," I whisper looking Ollie in the eye making his grip on my throat loosen slightly. He's looking down at me with a raised brow trying to figure out if I was lying or not.

"Kimi was tired of us being stupid. We decided to bait you into finally making a move. I've tried with Dino, Paul, HELL I even tried to bait you with fucking Charles and nada but heaven forbid I giggle with Kimi, which mind you we were laughing about how it was working," I tell him and by the time I had finished Ollie's hand around my throat had moved to my cheek.

"God, I'm more embarrassed it took me this long to realize," Ollie admits making me let out a small laugh before reaching my hands around Ollie's neck and pulling him down for a quick kiss.

The second Ollie's lips touched mine I let out a small moan before pulling him closer deepening the kiss.

"No," I whine when he pulls away.

"We're still in the paddock. When we get back to the hotel you better come to mine," Ollie tells me making me smile and nod slightly before pulling him down to steal one more kiss.

When we get back to Ollie's hotel room he's instantly dragging me towards the bed and before he pushes me down he quickly pulls off my shorts and shirt leaving me in the matching black bra and panties set I had put on this morning.

"Did you know this was gonna happen?" Ollie asks with a smirk while rubbing his fingers lightly over the lace of my bra.

"I hoped so," I admit letting my blush creep onto my cheeks. I glance down noticing that Ollie was still fully dressed I quickly tug at the bottom of his Ferrari team kit before pulling it off his body with Ollie's help.

Once he's shirtless Ollie quickly pushes me onto the bed hoovering over my body before leaning down and pulling me in for a heated kiss.

When I feel Ollie's lips trailing down my cheeks and neck I let out a soft moan when he bites down before sucking softly I'm sure will leave a mark behind. He leaves a few more scattered around my neck and chest before trailing his mouth down my pussy.

When he reaches his destination he spreads my legs further just staring at my soaked pussy for a split second.

"How are you already drenched?" Ollie asks with a smirk but before I can even answer him back he's licking a long strip from my leaking hole up to my throbbing clit where he pulls it into his mouth making me moan loudly.

"Fuck Ollie!" I cry out when he starts flicking his tongue over my sensitive clit.

"Taste so good," Ollie mumbles into my pussy making me whimper at the vibrations. Ollie only attaches his mouth back to my clit completely ignoring my cries of pleasure.

"Shit!" I cry out when I feel two of Ollie's fingers slip into my pussy finding my G-spot almost instantly making me arch my back off the bed from the stimulation.

"So good," I moan when Ollie starts fucking his fingers into my pussy while still teasing my clit. I can already feel my orgasm starting to build which has Ollie pulling away and smirking at me.

"No!" I cry out in a whine making Ollie laugh at me in a mocking manner.

"Awe, you thought I'd let you cum that easy?" Ollie asks with a smirk making me whimper. I always kind of figured Ollie was gonna be the dominant type but I'm still shocked by how dominant he truly is.

"Ollie, please I've been waiting for this moment," I beg making Ollie shake and head before flipping my body over so I'm now on my stomach but before I can even catch my breath he's pulling my hips up leaving me on all fours.

"Ow! Oliver," I cry out when I feel his slap ring out against my ass.

"Awe... did that hurt? Tuff luck I'm gonna do it again," Ollie says while he sends down another harsh slap to my ass.

"Fuck," I moan only resulting in Ollie spanking me again. He repeated this process until my ass was glowing a bright shade of red.

"So pretty," Ollie's voice rings out before he's burying two of his fingers into my pussy again making me whimper. From the new angle Ollie is hitting my G-spot with perfect precision every time.

"I'm close," I cry when I feel my orgasm start to build again but just like last time Ollie is pulling his fingers out just before I can tumble over the edge.

"Oliver! Please I need to cum," I cry out as I'm turning back onto my back to look Ollie in the eyes.

"Get on your knees and beg then," Ollie tells me with a smirk instantly making me sit up straighter and push him away from hoovering over me resulting in him standing up and taking a few steps back. When I climb off of bed I instantly sink onto my knees in front of Ollie.

I make quick work of unbottoming his pants and pulling them down a long with his briefs. Once his hard cock is freed I can't help the small whimper I let out in shock of his size.

Ollie quickly steps out of his pants and steps a bit closer so his cock was almost touching my lips.

I lean forward and take his throbbing cock into my hand and take a small lick on the tip of his cock. The hiss he lets out at the small stimulation gives me the courage I need to take the tip of his cock into my mouth.

"When I said that, it was a joke," Ollie says breathlessly but still wastes no time wrapping his fingers into my hair and pushing me farther down his cock.

"Fuck," Ollie groans out when my nose hits the trimmed patch of hair at the base of his cock.

I start bobbing my head on Ollie's cock making his grip in my hair tighten. As I have Ollie deep in my mouth I bring one of my hands up and start playing with his balls making him groan out and throw his head back in pleasure.

"No," I whine as Ollie pulls me off his cock.

"You cock hungry whore, I want to cum while fucking you," Ollie says while leaving down do we're face to face with each other. He places a few quick kisses down on my wet lips before standing back up straight and helping me stand.

Once we are both back on the bed Ollie has me in missionary teasing my clit with the tip of his cock while he peppers kisses all along my neck and collarbones leaving small bite marks and hickeys in his wake.

"Ollie! Please!" I cry out no longer being able to handle his relentless teasing.

"Be a good girl and you'll get what you want," Ollie says with a smirk and sliding deeply into my pussy with one thrust.

"Oh fuck," I cry out arching my back off the bed feeling my self be filled in ways I've never experienced before.

Ollie wastes no time thrusting into my pussy at a quick speed making me continue to cry out loudly in pleasure.

"Fuck! Ollie! So fucking good," I moan loudly through thrusts making Ollie smirk down at me before leaning down slightly to place a kiss on my lips.

"Are you always this fucking loud?" Ollie asks while picking up his thrusts into a rougher pace.

"Too good," I cry out again making Ollie smirk.

"Too good? You better get used to it," Ollie teases while using his fingers to start teasing my clit.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum if you keep doing that," I cry out only making Ollie speed all his actions up.

"Cum for me," Ollie grunts out.

"Shit!" I cry out while I feel my orgasm wash over me.

"Fuck, I'm cumming," Ollie grunts out while I still feel my orgasm washing over me.

"I'm gonna put a baby in you," Ollie grunts out while I feel his cum filling me up.

"Fuck Ollie," I moan feeling the final wave of my orgasm end while Ollie is slowly pulling out of my pussy.

"I think our families would kill us if we got pregnant coming into your rookie season," I tease making Ollie laugh while pulling me into his hold and taking me into the bathroom with him.

"Do your business and we can shower after," Ollie tells me softly while a small laugh is falling from his lips. He sets me down on the toilet and moves to turn the shower on.

Once I was done I climb into the shower after Ollie and instantly wrapping my arms around his bare torso.

"Sorry it took me forever," Ollie says while looking down at me.

"I mean if I get fucked like that for waiting we can go back whatever we were before," I tease making Ollie's cheeks heat up.

"I can just fuck you like that, because now that you're mine we aren't doing any of that waiting bullshit," Ollie says with a small laugh falling from his lips.

Once we finished the shower Ollie gave me one of his shirts to wear and we both climbed back into bed. When Ollie grabs his phone he notices a few texts from Kimi.

Before he can even answer them his phone starts ringing with an incoming FaceTime.

"What's up," Ollie asks while laying on his back and looking up to the phone. He intentionally kepted me out of the camera view.

"Did you finally get the girl?" Kimi asks clearly frustrated that Ollie had been ignoring him.

"Cause that's the only acceptable answer for not answering my messages," Kimi adds making Ollie laugh.

"I saw you with her, assumed she would be with you," Ollie tells him making me shake my head and pinch his side.

"Bro, I know Y/N is there with you!" Kimi exclaims with laughing. I end up laughing revealing that he was correct.

We ended up talking with Kimi for a little bit before we got off the phone and fell asleep in each others arms.

[palettepainter]

Cheese test

We're back again baabbyy!

More stuff with @muletia merformer au, this time, with Megatron! Tfp Megatron's design is so fucking cool and honestly, he might just be one of my favs from the series purely from a design perspective, of COURSE I had to write something with the big grump

Warnings: Swearing but that's cuz Megatron is a jerk, very brief chase scene? Reader briefly thinks Megatron is actually going to kill them for being too silly (don't worry they live)

Again this merformers au belongs to muletia, I went with their hc of Megatron being an axolotl mermaid

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You’re learning more and more just how hard it is to diferintiate between genuine curiosity…and outright stupidity 

You’re pretty sure this leaned more into the realm of undoubtful stupidity, and yet, your curiosity urged you to pursue with your plan 

From your place sat on the log you hum lowly and slowly, turning squinted eyes over to the massive body breaching the water and lounging tranquilly in the shallows not too far from you. His eyes are closed, face set in a resting scowl, immense form shifting with the gradual rise and fall of his deep breaths that, to anyone none the wiser, would give the impression he was snoozing 

You on the other hand, know better than to ever assume the beast of the lake is never aware of your presence in his territory 

As you stand, the dirt crunches beneath the soles of your shoes, the mers external gills don’t even lift to the sound, though you know he definitely heard you.

He is completely, utterly unthreatened by your presence, you would be to if your roles were reversed… 

A wicked smile curled onto your face

Speed walking to the water, glancing to the mer every few seconds, you carefully wade out from the shallows until the water breached over the top of your knees. It’s naturally cold, but not so cold to at all deter you from your current objective - your sense of logic and intrigue can’t agree on if that’s for better or worse 

It’s impossible to be discreet with how every movement, no matter how subtle, pulls sloshes from the water as it rippled around your legs. For a terrified second, when you hear the sound of something massive shifting behind you, you froze like a petrified goat, worried you had been too loud. 

Your mer acquaintance was not fond of being disrupted

Mouth pressed into a nervous line, you shyly peer over your shoulder to glance in his direction- and a cool rush of relief floods over your form when the source of the sound was only due to him turning his head away

Based on how steady his breathing sounded, you wager he’s not going to move anytime soon

Perfect 

Suppressing the urge to giggle evilly to yourself you fluidly dunk your hand under the water, grasping at a clutch of reeds which you easily uproot from their secured spot in the moist earth below

They wilt over your knuckles, water rushing off them in ribbons which soon turned to sad, pitiful drips that return to the lake below

You had grabbed at more than you wanted, but you’re filled with such a potent mix of giddy excitement and crippling anxiety that you don’t have any attention spare to fuss over the finer details 

Time to get that bastard back 

Your little scheme for revenge was all the stupid mers fault anyway, how were you supposed to know he was going to react in such a way?!

You’d left town for a week to meet up with family up in the city, just a general catch up to exchange how dull or exhilarating life had been since the last time you’d gathered. Of course, once you’d returned home, you’d traced the familiar woodland path down to the secluded lake to check in with the grouch of a mer that resided there

It was the first instance you could vouch were he had clingy, if you didn’t know any better, you’d think that mister cranky had missed little old you~

Of course, you had teased, just a tiny bit, the responding growl told you Megs did not welcome such behaviour, so instead, you’d spared him of such torment (though you had stashed away the event for future teasing purposes~) and instead told to him the details of your little getaway

Naturally, as with most of your visits, you did all the talking while your mer was mostly quiet, save for the periodic huff, snarl or eyeroll, which was generally as far as his emoting ever went 

You didn’t mind his silence, you’d grown quite accustomed to it, in an odd way, there was something comforting about it, soothing even 

It was when you decided it was time to leave that your grudge against the mer had started.. 

He refused to let you move. At all. 

Anchoring you in place with his giant forearm that effortlessly weighed down your legs, in spite of your fruitless efforts to shove him away. His warning growls fell on stubborn, deaf ears as you contemplated the risk of just screaming for help to see if he’d flee to the safety of the water: what you did instead was arguably more dumb

You bit him

Well, attempted was more accurate 

You don’t even know why you did, it was so random

You’d barely managed to leave a faint dent in the surface of his tough skin, all you’d gained was a weird taste in your mouth - a mix between fishy and earthy tasting - and a fucking bite to your own shoulder!

Which was NOT easy to patch up you would add!

What was worse?? That stupid, smug jerk actually had the audacity to look pleased with himself at how shaken silly you were, all blood rushing from your face leaving you a pale, ghostly, trembling mess

You really thought, for a split second, that he was going to tear your whole arm off (it would have been too easy for him to do so), but instead he wanted to return the favor. Except while your bite hardly left a scratch, his left you with an impressive - for lack of better terms - hickey

Somehow, you had managed to successfully conceal it from view under turtlenecks, jumpers and various hoodies. Though you did get a bunch of weird looks from people on that one particular hot day not too long ago

You scowl thinking back on it

‘Big meanie..’

Reeds in hand, you travel back to the shore and begin to approach the massive mer, your chest puffed out as if you had earned the right to approach him

As the space between you and him grew smaller he continued to not show any acknowledgement, even if you knew he was acutely aware of just how near you were. You stop some ways from him, just out of arms distance for yourself, but you are well within his grabbing range, still, you are not deterred

Concealing the reeds behind your back, you hop up on your heels, speaking in your best, casual voice “Hey Megs!”

No reaction, as you expected 

“Meeegs~” your voice drawled, in a way that was purposely aggravating, and to your own credit, it succeeded in exactly the way you wanted it to: the long, frilly gills that fell down the back and around the sides of Megatron’s head ghosted with movement, unable to block the annoying, sing-songy quality of your tone 

Still, he does not move 

Feeling bold, you take a few steps forward. You briefly debated prodding him with a finger, but decided that might be a bit much

“Hey big guy, I wanna show you something” 

In response, the giant mer actually rumbled, a deep sound that grumbles from the back of his throat like an alligator bellow. Seeing that you now, at the very least, hold a fraction of his attention you lean in to hammer the final nail into the coffin

“Don’t worry, it’s a gift. You’ll like it! I promise”

….Unhurriedly, his head turned in his folded arms

An ancient, crimson eye peeled open to squint at you, another soft bellow rumbling from his throat 

As he considered your words, you continued to smile, praying that your act was convincing and that he somehow hadn’t seen through your innocent facade The weight of his stare is crushing, the cold, calculated eyes of a predator, examining you as if you are a miniscule specimen under a microscope 

Or a pathetic mouse curled before him 

Positive that you’ll never be unaffected by his stare, you can’t help but shift on your feet, the awkwardness at his prolonged silence beginning to stir a broth of fresh new nerves. You avert your gaze, the muscles of your face beginning to grow sore from how you were having to force your smile from shrinking back  

In that moment, he snorted through his nose, a puff of air that hits the nearby grass and had the long blades leaning back. While his face was often carved into a seemingly everlasting grimace, even you can recognise smug enjoyment when you see it 

‘Arrogant fucker’

“Can you at least try and look like you’re interested?..” you deadpan at him, not trying to conceal the unimpressed edge to your tone at how difficult he was being

The single eye that studied you narrowed, pupil dilating to an irked slit, obviously not keen on you speaking to him in such a way

If to merely aggravate you further or because he was simply in one of his moods, but the only movement he made was a faint, just barely registered, annoyed flick of his tail in the water 

Frowning, you mirror his expression, not naive enough to believe you stand a chance of intimidating him into doing as you asked, or ever will - if Megatron could laugh you know he’d cackle unapologetically at the notion - but you weren’t going to buckle so easily, not this time

He doesn’t back down, his rumbling morphing to a shallow growl at your boldness to meet his glare evenly, daring you to keep pushing his buttons, which he would never admit you were extremely good at 

He would also never admit, even to himself, that his tolerance of you was in no way related to your heedless bursts of boldness so long as he drew breath

That you’re maddening skill to delicately tow the line between the embodiment of allurement and being a downright, brainless, half-wit moron was as delicious and enticing as it was vexing

He didn’t even know when it was his displeasure towards your very presence had begun to fade

When had it started??...Was it possibly that first occasion in which you had settled at his lake all those months ago after so many times of traversing the nearby footpaths? So unaware of just how close to danger you had placed yourself?? Just feet away from the waters edge

Was it the sheer informality in which you had gasped upon catching his eyes peeking above the water near you, and the following eccentric coeing that fell from your mouth? The way you had held out your arm above the water in some attempt to try and encourage him closer?? Were you sane??

He had been set on eating you. He SHOULD have eaten you. Why didn’t he eat you? Why did he allow you - a puny little human of all things! - to exist in his presence?..

His eye widened the next second when you leaned away, giving him a closed eye shrug, scowl wiped from your face “Well, if you don’t want to see it I guess I’ll just go home”

Megatron couldn’t help what happened next

As you pretended to take a step back and turn, with the guise of walking over to your shoulder bag sitting back by the log, you instantly smile in silent victory upon hearing Megatron’s great body moving

The pebbles of the ground shift and crunch at the movement of his mighty frame rising, the sound of the water being disrupted by the motion of a body made of pure muscle, and before you know it, one large, giant arm is slamming into the earth just inches from your side 

You pause, glancing to it, and at the way in which his claws sink and drag into the sand, easily carving miniature trenches into the dirt 

You fight yourself from smiling too widely in sucess 

When you return your gaze to him, craning your neck upward at a painful angel so that you could meet his eyes, his ruby pupils are nothing but annoyed, symmetrical lines across his face

He frowned deeply at you, and as if to drive home the fact he is anything but entertained at whatever game you are attempting to play, he huffed indignantly down at you, his breath shooting out and ruffling the hair on your head

“Glad to see I have your attention~” you don’t even have the civility to sound remotely regretful for enraging him, and quite suddenly, Megatron seemed to process bluff, the fins along the sides of his head rising at your audacity 

He snarled, lips drawing back over knife like teeth and settling in a sneer. You don’t so much as hear his growl as much as you feel it reverberating through the ground, rattling your bones as if they were frail toothpicks

Involuntarily, your pupils shrink, one single, solid reminder of the great power imbalance at play in your friendship with the mer 

With your attitude corrected, you quickly fumble an apology, especially since you don’t care for the calculating look in Megatron’s eyes, as if he was debating the reward factor of tossing you into the lake like a skimming stone 

“Hey, come on, I was just playing. I wasn’t actually going to leave!” boldly, Megatron’s brow cocked an inch up his forehead, his growling decreasing only just, but not enough for your comfort “Really I wasn’t!” you press, gesturing with your hand that wasn’t holding the reeds

“I just really wanted to show you my gift, it’s super important”

At the mention of your ‘gift’, Megatron’s head pulled back, his expression making way for puzzlement and, perhaps, just the tiniest bit of curiosity. At the very least, his growling ceased, that was a win

You take a small step back, judging the distance between yourself and his face as you mentally and physically hype yourself up for your final move

Megatron only tilted his head by a fraction to the left watching you, his eyes half lidded, resuming his typical look of boredom, as if in that moment he was only humouring you by offering his attention 

Timidly, the voice in the back of your mind peeped up to remind you that it wasn’t too late for you to retreat, but the muffled pain originating from your shoulder isn’t so numbed that you had forgotten how Megtron had bitten you

How the extent of your injury could have been worse if he had been careless, how his bite caused far more damage than yours did to him, that he had completely over reacted and that it was his fault anyway! If he hadn’t been such a melodramatic baby and let you leave you wouldn’t be in this position in the first place!

Nah, you say to your reasoning, this stupid fish deserved what you had prepared 

Bouncing on your heel again, you beam up at his indifferent face undeterred “Okay! You ready for your gift?~”

Megatron responded with a blink, the digit of his hand tapping against the dirt

A crack in your innocent act formed when you fail to restrain a snicker from passing your lips, a sound which ruffles the fins of Megatron’s head and has his frown twitching, wondering what on earth it is you have to laugh over

But before he can ponder the topic for a moment more, his eyes widen when you unexpectedly draw your arm back, and before he can blink, you catapult it forward-

SPLAT

Something wet smacked onto his face, hitting him squarely between his eyes

With a shriek that rattled within the walls of your skull, Megatron reared backwards, startling you as much as it scares you as his tail crashed wildly in the water, sending colossal waves crashing towards the boundary of where the water met the land

Madly, you leapt backwards to narrowly dodge the water that crashed higher up the earth from Megatron’s thrashing, the ginormous mer hissing loudly 

The tantrum lasts both a few seconds and an eternity before he settles, aware of how he wasn’t being attacked and that he registered no immediate pain across his body, despite how his vision was obscured

His posture was tense, shoulders tucked upward near his neck, greedily inhaling air through flared nostrils and the grand, feathery like fins that circulated his head sprung outward, making him look like a petrified, poor excuse for a sunflower 

….You bite your lip to muffle your snicker at witnessing Megatron, the giant, scary mer, freaking out over a handful of harmless reeds!

You can envision the loading symbol above his head as he analysed what it is that you just did, and in that very moment, as the reeds slowly slide down from his eyes and hook over the small bump that made his nose - leaving him blinking hard as his vision was resorted, fins still snapped open - do you lose it 

“PFT-BWAHAHA!!-”

Desperately clutching your own stomach, you try to focus on remembering to breathe between your hysterics while also trying to not fall over onto your rump. You end up in a position with your hands perched on your knees, hunched over with your face burning from the intensity of how hard you’re wheezing 

“O-Oh my god! That was! Y-YOU LOOKED SO STUPID!!” you cackled, tears threatening to pour from your eyes “You just- t-the way you LEAPED! BACK!-” 

Oh how you WISHED you had been filming that!

“I didn’t even think you would react to it. B-But-” you throw your head up to Megatron, who still sat rooted in the lake, though now, his head has turned in the direction of your voice “-but the way you- you SHRIEKED! AT REEDS!!” 

You didn’t think it was possible for somebody to laugh this hard 

Perhaps it was your own laughter that made you miss the crucial detail of how Megatron’s body had grown eerily tense..

He doesn’t make a sound, not that you would have noticed, too busy trying to catch your breath with little success

“O-Oh ho! OH! Oh my god that was beautiful! T-That was the most HILARIOUS thing!!” Gradually, your chuckling turned into winded snickers, almost making yourself light headed from the way your body comes down from the height of your giggle fit

Oh ho NOTHING you did from this point onward in your life was ever going to top that!

With one hand fanning your face and the other wiping away a single tear from the corner of your eye, you blow out a breath, exhausted from the sheer power of how hard you had been laughing 

“Whew! Wow, that was so good. Pure gold!” Still regaining control of your respiratory system you inhale a few calming breaths as you turn towards the lake- and are met with a wall of flesh 

In an instant, you don’t find the situation nearly as humorous, especially when your brain analyzes the deep, steady growling that shook the surface of the water with its intensity

…You turn your head up, and up, and up

Swallowed in the mers shadow, it was revealed that Megatron was the source of the powerful bellow, teeth bared in a ferocious display that has your stomach plummeting to the pits of hell, hissing lividly down at you, tail lashing behind him like a colossal, pissed off feline

The reeds where still hanging over his nose, but it’s very obvious that his eyes are honed solely on you

His hands and his claw tipped fingers are lodged into the earth, fisting the dirt in a crushing grip, so strong it looked painful 

Your voice of reasoning blared in your head, calculating your error

For this occasion, you conclude that perhaps you had mistaken stupidity for curiosity 

….You gulp, sweating

“Ah…ha. Um- no hard feelings?”

The volume of his growling skyrocketed

Yep. This was definitely, by far, the most STUPID thing you’d done

You bolt 

Behind you, Megatron advanced like an angry guard dog on steroids, pursuing you with a mighty roar that you swear shook the very sky itself. You dare not look back, sprinting past your backpack with all the grace of a caffeinated ostrich

“I’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’MSORRY-” you pleaded, Megatron crashing behind you

If you knew your PE lessons back in school were going to lead to you trying to outrun one seriously ticked off mermaid you sure would have put more effort in

You don’t make it far, not before a vice grip clamped around your calf and yanked you back. Hard.

You collapsed with a scream, unable to tell if it’s more from fear or from the pain that now seized your muscle

You fall too quickly, and you don’t have a chance to process your balance being thrown off before gravity is already working it’s wonders and pulling you downward, where your front collided into the solid ground

You grunt, falling still for about two seconds before you feel how you’re being, at a painfully slow pace, dragged backwards 

‘FUCK-’

Without thinking you begin to madly claw at the ground in an attempt to latch onto anything! A sticking out root, a rock, a particularly large tuft of grass, you don’t care! Every single cell in your body scrambling for some perch of stability in the rapidly unstable situation that was the work of your own imbecilic creation

Alas, your efforts as as affect as sticking a molten knife through butter, you continue to be dragged backwards

You can hear your own pulse thundering loudly in your ears as it feels like your heart is trying to claw itself out of your chest and flee to the safety beyond the treeline 

When the sunlight vanishes, as you are bathed in the cool shade of Megatron’s shadow, you’re ninety percent sure you might just vomit from the stress

Your scrambling becomes further chaotic 

“Okayokay- I’m really sorry it won’t ever happen again I’ll never pull a joke IT WAS JUST A JOKEI’MSORRY!!-”

As you come to a sudden stop, you’re only granted a swift, singular second of peace before that same hand still grasping at your leg forced you to roll over

You gawk, wide eyed and meekly up to Megatron who towered over your measly frame, an inferno reflecting in his eyes that has you feeling like a horror stricken baby rabbit staring down the throat of a salivating wolf

Though honestly, you’d much rather prepare the rapid wolf right now..

“U-Uhm…S-Sooo-” your voice trembled with every word, but you somehow manage to pull a wobbly, professional smile, even in the face of imminent disaster “I uh…t-take it you didn’t find that joke…funny?”

His snarl was so powerful that little drops of spit land on your face, forcing you to blink 

His silver, webbed hand landed over your body faster than lightning, instantly knocking the wind out of you and further trapping you. It was weird, seeing your entire body disappear beneath such an unnaturally large appendage

His claws pierced into the soil as if it was nothing but flimsy paper, and you can’t help but morbidly imagine how effortlessly it would be for him to do the same, but with your own skin

He was leaning those glisening, jagged teeth closer..

Your eyes enlarged, your heartbeat increased, and you began desperately flailing beneath his hand as you felt the huffs of his breath brush against your skin. Fear creeped within you, a cold, icy chill penetrating your very being as all you could do was try to urgently lean your head away from him 

“WaitwaitWAITWAITSTOPMEGATRON-”

SPLAT

Something wet landed on your face 

It was cold, making you jump, and slimy, not the most pleasant feeling

At first, you shivered thinking that Megatron had licked you, but after a beat, and after no violent snarl or merciless clamp of teeth followed, do you dare to peek an eye open cautiously 

Megatron loomed frozen above you, eyes unblinking. His snarling had stopped entirely, and now his mouth only hung partially open

Fearing the moment you moved your eyes off him he would change his mind and do whatever it was he was planning to do to get his revenge, you wait another several seconds before you finally deem it safe enough to go cross eyed, investigating who or what the culprit was behind your damp face

It was the reeds

You stare at them as best you can, Megatron stared too, seemingly lost on how to proceed

….You awkwardly peered away, battling the urge to cough “Um..”

Slit pupils snap to you at an alarmingly quick speed that instantly draws a flinch from your body, trying to squish yourself up and be as small as you can beneath his stare that you can’t decipher

Maybe, just maybe, if you make yourself look as pitiable as possible, you might just escape unscathed

He doesn’t move to release you, but promisingly, he also doesn’t growl when he seems to remember he has you trapped beneath his hand like a bug he’b been about to squish 

He stared, and you squirmed, the atmosphere weighed with a sense of uncertainty for what would proceed

….The tension snapped like a string of thread when he snorted lightly, and when you finally summon the courage to once again peek to his face, you are baffled at the sight of one corner of his mouth curling upward in a smirk

You don’t have much time to remain being astonished however when, finally, Megtron eases himself back, not by much, but enough that you finally feel some semblance of ease and your body compels you to replenish your lungs

Heaving, you let your head fall back into the dirt

“Heh..So..you do find it funny, when it happens to someone else at least” you mumble, not a hundred percent sure if talking is the best course of action, but damn if you don’t need to do something to distract yourself as your heart rate gradually began to return to a normal pace 

Tilting his head down at you in amusement, Megatron lets out a soft bellow, tail idly swishing in the water before he lets it settle and rest. Without freeing you, he raises one finger, directing it to your face

Your panic spiked, and your gut instinct has you ready to propel yourself as far away as you can, leaning your head back while you try to simultaneously lodge your feet in the dirt, while his finger gets far too close for your current liking 

“H-Hey hey- Megatron buddy, w-we’re friends! Please no scratching!..”

As the very tip of his clawed finger brushed the surface of your skin you clamp your eyes shut with a whimper, holding your breath and bracing for the sting of pain 

Instead, that pain never comes

Barely, you catch Megatron huffing again, no doubt highly pleased at the look of pure, unbridled terror on your face, before he easily hooked his finger on the reeds and flicked them away and off your face

When you crack open your eyes, you find Megatron peering down at you with his head braced on the knuckle of his other hand

All bark and bite have left you, it seemed he had gravitated to a more lighter mood, and you are NOT about to ruin that by saying something snarky

You already feel like you’ve lost five years of life from the stress you’d felt in the past three minutes, you don’t fancy losing anymore

You very much like being alive…and not pinned beneath the giant hand of a mermaid 

“Hah…O-Okay, so, you don’t like jokes. Noted” 

Megatron doesn’t grace your statement with a response, his finger tapping and pressing on the material of your shirt that is now semi soaked from the water that runs down his arm onto you

You ignore the feeling, or at least, you give it a valiant effort to 

“Sooo, how about a deal: I won’t pull anymore jokes on you and uh, we let bygones be bygones?”

Again, he gave no acknowledgement, his eyes turned to the fabric of your shirt sleeve that covers your shoulder. He tugs at the collar lightly with his claw just slightly, before releasing it the moment you fear it would begin to tear, possibly intruiged by the foreign material that felt so strange compared to his scales 

Either way, you take his silence and calm attitude as a yes

“Great!” you say, clapping your hands together “Well, now that that little problem is solved, how about you uh..” you timidly tap the base of his wrist twice “Let me up big guy”

There, is when Megatron’s eyes slide back to your face

One corner of his mouth is still partially curled upward, and when you see his brows draw back, and he made a small sound at your request, do you think he was actually going to let this incident roll off his back like water 

…Then his mouth twisted into a full on smirk 

Your hopefulness died 

You grunt when more pressure was applied to the hand that kept you flush against the floor, not crushing you, but the added strength to his hold certainly has you snapping a puzzled stare between his hand and his face

The fins on his head wiggle in a wave, his entire demeanour oozing pleasured delightment at your face 

Without breaking eye contact with you, the finger that had been mindlessly prodding and poking your t-shirt snagged your collar band and pulled it aside, exposing the skin of your shoulder to his view

Your confusion growing, you soon try to attempt, and fail, to shift your shoulder to manoeuvre your shirt back into place, but that only seems to feed the mermaids ego and has his already large smirk expanding

You don’t want to say it, you really don’t want to say it, but you come to accept that you’re simply out of options..

You sigh 

“Can you PLEASE let me up-!!”

The remainder of your sentence is dashed, processing just how suddenly closer Megatron was, and the way his mouth began to part, a mischievous glint in his eye as the distance shrinks further..

‘Oh you motherFUCKER-’

You resume your thrashing, now with more intensity 

“NO! NO NO! NO. Megatron NO! D-DONT YOU-I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU!!- DON’T YOU DAREBITEMY-”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Grumbling as you pour the water from your bottle onto a small towel you’d stuffed into your backpack, your irritation morphs to a strained hiss as you gently press the cloth onto your tender shoulder 

You hold the towel there for five seconds, the cooling feel of the damp towel somewhat alleviating the fresh sting that lingers heavily underneath it 

Pulling it away to inspect the damage, you frown at the new red ring imprinted into your skin, a ring that will no doubt leave an imposing scab as it heals 

A chortle has you whirling your head to the lake, where Megatron’s squinted eyes peer over the water at you, sly and cheeky 

Your frown deepened 

“Asshole..”

[chlorinecake]

𝐉𝐎𝐘𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐊 - a yjw oneshot 🕹️

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: a fun gaming session with your bsf leads to a night full of steamy shenanigans

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: gamer!roommate!jungwon x reader

𝐜𝐰: swearing, kissing, teasing, hickeys, y/n gets her boobies fondled, oral (f. & m. receiving), mentions of other enhypen members

𝐰𝐜: 3k | not proofread, written quickly

You sighed, “I wish more people in the world cared about Roblox… it saved my life, bro.”

“That was easily one of the dumbest things I’ve ever heard you say.”

“What?”

“I said-”

“EVER! Wanna play COD Mobile instead?”

“Bruh, that game is so mid.”

You scoffed at his remark, bringing a flared hand to your chest. “I’m goated at COD mobile, averaging like 100 kills per match. People praise me for that.”

“Because it doesn’t take skill?” He made it sound like a question, when he was really making a statement.

“Mkay. I bet I’d still whoop your ass on console, but we don’t have to go there.”

A hint of ambition sparkled in his eyes at the challenge. “Oh yeah? And what are we betting here?”

“Hmm,” you thought for a moment, “If you win, I’ll fix you a victory snack.”

He nodded at the enticing offer, “And if you win? Which you won’t, but-”

“The bragging rights will be enough for me, but you could always fix the broken shower head in my bathroom so I can stop using yours,” you interrupted confidently.

Jungwon forgot all about how you broke your shower head last week. You told him it was an innocent mistake, but his mind obviously wandered to other places once you told him. By now though, he had already gotten used to sharing a bathroom with you, so he didn’t feel any urgency to repair it. Still and all, he understood how you might want your private space back. “Ok. Fair enough,” Jungwon agreed.

He handed you a controller, waiting for you to join him at the loading screen. Setting up your gear and choosing what weapon you wanted, the match eventually started. Needless to say, you didn’t stand a chance against Jungwon and his team of CPU’s, feeling sore from defeat.

A prideful smile waved over his features, showcasing his prominent dimples. “Sooo,” he began, “I would like your leftover Twix bar from the fridge cut up over two scoops of vanilla ice cream. Don’t forget the sprinkles.”

You pouted, handing him the overheating controller. “I’m not fixing you a damn thing. You probably cheated!”

His eyebrows raised, “First of all, cheating is for weenies. Second of all, a deals a deal!”

“Ugh, fine. I’m charging tips, by the way.”

“Not a chance, crook. Unless,” he caught your attention as you got up from the living room couch, “you wanna go for another round?”

“No, that’s alright. I think I'm gonna just watch you play the game for now. You could invite Heeseung, too, if you want.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I’ll be back, okay? I gotta use the bathroom real quick.”

Walking into the bathroom, you closed the door behind you, taking off the bra that had been killing your back for the past 12 hours. You didn’t know where else to put it, so you hid it under Jungwon’s bathroom cabinet before leaving.

“When do you ever wanna play games with me? Are you with Riki or something?” Heeseung asked from the headset.

“No, I’m with ____. She needs some testosterone in her life and wants to watch us play I guess.”

“I can think of a few ways to help her with that,” Jungwon could hear the smirk in Heeseung’s voice.

“Shut the fuck up and join me already.”

“What? It’s not like you’ll ever have the balls to make a move on her, anyway,” Heeseung chuckled. “How long have you know her for again?”

“Since the first day of college.”

“Damn, and you’ve barely even grazed first base.”

“She’s still sacrificing her free time to hang out with me, so I don’t see the loss here?”

“Look, buddy. Your rizz needs an upgrade. These cute little gaming nights you have every weekend needs an upgrade. Your wardrobe needs an upgra-”

“I get it, asshole.”

You came back with the snack he requested, eliciting a dramatic applause from your goofy ahh friend.

“Your majesty,” you bowed playfully, placing the bowl of ice cream on the desk in front of him.

You filled in the space next to him, resting an elbow on the arm of the sofa, your nipples now on full display through your thin shirt.

“Are you cold,” Jungwon asked, eyes not quite meeting yours. You meant to reply, but he was already reaching his hand out to grope your chest, using a thumb to smooth out your hardened buds with his warm touch. You eyes widened in shock.

“Woah- mmm, n-no, I’m okay” you stuttered, Jungwon smirking at how flustered you appeared.

What the actual fuck was that!?, you thought to yourself.

He went back to casually talking with Heeseung again as if he didn’t just rub your nipples…

You usually enjoyed watching Jungwon play the game, but now, you couldn’t take your eyes off of Jungwon’s pretty hands. The way his delicate thumbs maneuvered the joystick of the controller sent your mind into a daze.

“Hold up, Hee, I’m gonna put you on mute for a sec,” Jungwon said, handing you his controller before mouthing the words “play for me” with a catty smirk. He adjusted his headset over your head, bringing a finger up to your seal your lips. “Shhh,” he warned.

You knew Heeseung wasn’t actually on mute because there was an open mic symbol on the corner of the screen.

What’s he up to now?, you wondered.

Kneeling between your legs with greed, Jungwon’s fingers tiptoed to the waistband of your shorts. He paused before asking, “is this okay?," and you simply nodded in response. He smiled, tugging your shorts and underwear past your hips, knees, and ankles, stuffing them under the sofa.

He gawked at your wetness, your lips swollen with need. Heeseung started the match, and that’s when Jungwon started taking kitten nips at the sensitive flesh between your thighs, leaving a few marks. He blew at your heat before finally using his fingers to explore your folds.

“Cute,” he must’ve noticed the way your pussy pulsed in anticipation. Attaching his lips to your throbbing clit, he sucked it into his mouth, alternating with his fingers when breaking for air. He hummed at your taste, adding to the pleasurable sensations.

You tried focusing on the game for Jungwon’s sake, but you couldn’t resist the urge to reach for a handful of his hair and gently grind against his face.

“You’re doing so good for me, baby, just stay focused,” he said in between slurping at your wetness that never sounded so foul til now.

Did he just call me baby?

He inserted a finger into your tight hole and started pumping in and out of you, curling up to stimulate your g-spot. You were struggling to keep your moans in, rolling your eyes to the back of your head as he finger-fucked you. He looked up, noticing that you had fully abandoned the controller. “Keep playing or I won’t let you finish,” he purred.

“Fuck,” you panted quietly, how do you expect me to do that?”

“Don’t make me repeat myself, ____.”

You picked up the controller and started playing again. Heeseung was now swearing over the mic like a madman. “Bro, you’re really not helping out our stats here by letting the enemy clap your cheeks,” he scolded, but you weren’t really paying attention to his voice anyway. Jungwon dove back into your heat, licking rough stripes against your clit as he inserted a second finger. “Mngh,“ you mumbled dizzily, clenching around him.

“What?” Heeseung asked confused, having heard your noise.

You reached to mute the headset, but Jungwon gave you a look that told you not to test him. You gave in, and succeeded in holding back your whimpers, but your heavy breathing continued.

“Dude, I’m literally never playing the game with you agai- HOW THE FUCK DID I JUST GET DIED?”

One last thrust of Jungwon’s fingers, and you were finally coming undone, shaking from the intense wave of pleasure that washed over you. Slender fingers glided in and out of your needy hole, his knuckles adding to the delightful stretch. The match ended shortly after you came down from your high.

Jungwon licked his fingers clean of you and swapped the controller back. “Sorry about that, hyung. I was eating and didn’t wanna disturb you,” he lied, readjusted the headset on himself.

“Well, I hope it was worth it. Our team forfeited on some elite rewards.”

“You’re welcome,” he teased, which you didn’t know if it was meant for you or Heeseung, because he leaned in to kiss your lips softly, before going in for another match.

Still feeling your orgasm fresh in your viens, you reached under the couch to grab your shorts and underwear, putting them on and getting up from the sofa.

“Hey, what’s up,” Jungwon asked while taking a spoonful of the half-melted sundae into his mouth.

“I-I’m just gonna shower... and maybe go to bed after.”

“Alright. Me and Hee are gonna play one more match and I’ll be in after you. Don’t take long!”

"Dude, you’re abandoning me already? I thoughtyou were gonna help me take these punks to skill-ville," Heeseung whined over the mic.

"You need to immediately repent for saying that," Jungwon cringed.

You made your way to his bathroom with a change of clothes, closing the door behind you.

You entered the shower, trying to wash off the growing heat between your legs and any dirty thoughts associated with your roommate. A few minutes in, you also decided to wash your hair as it had been a week since that last time you did.

That’s when you heard the door open and close, followed by the sounds of clothes being removed and tossed on the bathroom floor. You peeked from the shower curtain, only to find a naked Jungwon standing right there. He didn’t notice you looking, so you pushed the shower curtain back.

“The shower is occupied at the moment, Wonie!”

“I know,” he smirked, entering the shower from the opposite end as if this was yet another casual ordeal.

“May I,” he asked, pointing to the spot you were standing at in the shower. “Oh, sure” you replied, trying not to make things awkward. He reached for the bottle of shampoo and started lathering the honey scented product in his hair and skin. You tried to avoid taking anymore peeks at his toned body so you busied yourself with a loofa and cleansed your skin for what felt a hundred times. By now, you sat idly in the corner of the shower, with bubbles waiting to be rinsed from your body. “Here,” Jungwon motioned for you to return to your original spot. “Thanks,” you said. “Would’ve been nice if you said that earlier,” he poked.

Oh shit.

“Here, let me help you,” he offered, rinsing off the soapy suds that painting your shoulders and back. Somehow, this gesture relaxed you. “Now turn around for me.” You faced him with a chest covered in bubbles. He quickly rinsed your breasts before lowering the shower head to your private, adjusting the water pressure from low to medium.

You could hardly stand up straight from the pressure building up at your center. The throbbing sensation between your legs travelled up to your quivering lips. You moved a hand to cover your mouth, hiding your lewd sounds. Jungwon didn’t mind though, because your squirming is what excited him the most. “Hold still, ____,” he teased, putting the water pressure on high.

Bracing your balance with his free arm, his soft lips met your damp neck, nibbling at the skin. The sensation was so sweet that you finally let your moans out. Developing a mind of its own, your hand reached down to stroke Jungwon’s hardness, a lustful look staining his features.

He groaned into your ear, making you feel more than half crazy. You felt your climax creeping up on you as it became harder to stand up or keep still. Starting to pump him faster, both of you were now on the verge of bussing.

A little voice in your head slapped you back into reality.

This has to stop! He’s my roommate!

You turned the water off from the faucet on the wall, retreating your hand from his member as if it tased you. Grabbing a towel from the curtain rod and covering yourself, you left Jungwon alone in the bathroom.

You went to your room and started to dry yourself off. You couldn’t quite wrap your head around what was happening but a part of you liked it and another part knew it was inappropriate.

You just touched Jungwon’s dick, and yes, it felt really fucking nice, but the thought will likely haunt you til the day you die. He was a good friend of yours, and you didn’t wanna let fleeting feelings ruin it.

You put on the scented lotion from your nightstand followed by your clothes before plopping in your bed. You didn’t bother locking your door because you never had you to worry about Jungwon intruding your privacy. Or at least, that was before today.

You buried yourself under the covers before a trail of footsteps made their way from the bathroom to your bedroom door.

Creak.

The door opened and closed.

Click.

He locked it.

Walking over to your bed, Jungwon sat behind you.

“I know you’re awake, so stop pretending,” he whispered in your ear.

Annoyed, you threw the covers off your head, giving him an exhausted look.

“What do you want, Jungwon? Huh?”

“I could always just show you,” he said, flashing you the sluttiest eyes you’ve ever seen on a man.

“You could’ve waited for me to finish up in the shower before barging in like that.”

“No, I really couldn’t.”

“We’re roommates, Won! Hell, we’re friends!”

“And? What does that have to do with anything?”

“You can’t just fondle my tits whenever you want to, or eat me out on the couch when you’re bored, or join me in the shower because you’re impatient.”

You let that sink in for a moment.

“Did you not like it when I did those things to you? Did you not like the way I made you feel,” he inquired, inching closer towards you on the bed. “Because the way I remember it, you never told me to stop.”

The room fell so quiet that your heartbeat sounded loud.

He reached over to grip your thigh, leaning in for a kiss before shoving his tongue past your lips, but you pulled away.

“Jungwon stop!” You reprimanded, turning your head from him.

He grabbed your chin and proceeded to kiss you.

“Jungwon, I said stop...”

“I can tell you didn’t mean it.”

He continued kissing you, shoving his hand into you panties and going straight to your pussy, sliding his digits up and down your moist folds, sending an ache through your stomach.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so wet for me.”

He called you baby. Again!

He didn’t waste any time to rub circles around your sensitive bud, causing your hips to jerk toward him.

“Stop it!” You raised your voice, pushing him away by his throat. Your hand never looked so small til now.

“Then make me.”

“What?”

“You know I don’t like repeating myself, ____.”

Darkness waved over both your features as you pressed his back flush against the bed, reaching for his drawstring and pulling his sweat pants down. He wasn’t wearing any boxers, so his pink tip sprung up, clear fluid leaking from the tip.

You grabbed his dick, giving it a firm stroke before grazing your teeth down his shaft, eliciting the prettiest whimper you’d ever heard from his mouth. The texture of his veins ran against your tongue as you took half of him into your mouth, using your hand to stimulate the base.

Your head bounced up and down as Jungwon grew dangerously desperate. Tapping your cheek, he guided you off of him to take a breath. Cradling your head in his grasp, he slid you back down until your lips reached his pelvis. “Hollow your cheeks for me, and breath through your nose,” he guided before using your head to please him. Your eyes began to water as his tip hit the back of your throat, causing you to gag a few times, but he ignored it.

“I’m so close, baby, just keep taking me,” he nearly begged, chest heaving as he screwed his eyes shut, “Be a good girl for me, mmm,” he grunted, picking up the pace.

You were getting used to being called “baby” by now.

“F-fuck,” he whimpered, bursting his load into your mouth. He lifted your head from his throbbing heat, using a thumb to wipe the cum that dribbled from the corner of your mouth. You went back down to taste his release, only for him to guide your head away.

“Don’t eat that, ____,” he giggled, but you swiped a finger to collect some of his cum anyway.

“It’s only fair, Wonie. Now we’ve both tasted each other.”

You went to the bathroom to wash your hands, coming back with a few tissues to help clean him up. Something about this dirty moment seemed so pure. So right.

“Okay, I’m going to bed for real this time, see you tomorrow,” you smiled, getting under your covers.

“You don’t expect me to go back to my room, do you,” he asked, giving you a look.

“Well, tonight, I’ll let it slide, but if you end up breaking your bed, don’t expect visitation privileges.”

“Thank you,” he let out a breath, smiling as he snuggled under the covers beside you.

“Jungwon?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think Heeseung has any idea about what we did?”

Ding.

Jungwon’s phone vibrated in his pocket:

Text Message from “Heenis” — Jake ditched me for a hoe 👍🥲 wanna call?

A mischievous smirk poked at the corners of Jungwon’s lips, “He can find out.”

“WONIE, IF YOU COME ANY CLOSER, I SWEAR YOU’RE SLEEPING IN YOUR OWN BED TONIGHT!”

❁ if y’all can’t tell already, i am dangerously jungwon biased…

❁ anyways, thanks for reading “Joystick” by @chlorinecake! be sure to check out more works by me on my enhypen bookshelf!

[liliapleasesteponme]

Ok then, I have an idea for Patti. Reader is an actress and plays in the series « agatha all along » in the interviews reader and Kathryn is very very close and Patti doesn’t like it at all.

Off Script

Summary - interviews have never been your strong suit, but when you have an interview with kathryn hahn and patti lupone, kathryn gets a bit too touchy

Warnings - romantic tension, reader anxiety, possessiveness, emotional tension, jealousy, dominant / top!patti, possessiveness

Taglist - @delusionalforolderwomen @lilia-calderus-pet-goat @live-laugh-love-lupone @lemz378 @emilynissangtr @thoroughly--confused @mgruiz @multixfan @angeliccss @renyfisher @ilovepattilupone @tinnisamy @thegoddamnfeels @p2pecleanerwitheyes @sapphic-girlss @womankissersworld @akilikesaxolotls

"Hello everybody, welcome back to the show! Up next we have, from the amazing Agatha All Along cast—Y/N L/N, Kathryn Hahn, and Patti LuPone!"

The host's voice rang with the kind of polished enthusiasm only years in daytime television could produce, but his name slipped right through your memory like water in your palms. There had been too many interviews. Too many lights, too many faces, too many times you'd had to be "on."

You smiled automatically, your hand already lifting in a wave to the studio audience. The sound of their clapping pulled you out of the fog, snapping your spine a little straighter in your seat on the velvet couch. Kathryn gave your knee a little nudge under the table—a private gesture to ground you, knowing interviews made you nervous.

"Deep breaths, babe," she whispered with a wink. "You’ve got this."

You smiled back, grateful.

Patti, seated on your other side, didn’t say anything.

You turned slightly to glance at her, catching how tightly she crossed her arms and how she stared dead ahead, jaw tight. Her crimson nails tapped softly against the upholstery, rhythmic and controlled. Her face was unreadable—except for the slight downturn of her mouth whenever Kathryn leaned a little too close to whisper something to you.

"Now," the host said, turning his grin toward the three of you. "Fans loved the chemistry on-screen, especially between Agatha and Y/N’s character. But there was something else folks couldn’t stop talking about—you two," he gestured toward you and Kathryn. "Is that spark all acting?"

Kathryn let out a charming laugh. "Oh, we adore each other. She’s my favorite scene partner." She slung an arm around your shoulders playfully, and the crowd gave a collective “aww.”

You laughed too, bashfully leaning into her. "We had a lot of fun filming together," you said softly, careful with your words.

Patti shifted in her seat.

"Don’t let her fool you," Kathryn teased. "Y/N gets so flustered during romantic scenes. You should’ve seen the blooper reel."

Your face flushed and you looked down, laughing despite the heat in your cheeks. But before you could respond, Patti finally spoke.

"Well," she said coolly, voice cutting clean through the light banter, "maybe if the scenes were written for real chemistry, they wouldn’t be so hard to get through."

The temperature dropped slightly. Kathryn stiffened, but her smile didn’t falter. You felt it more than saw it—that little current of something under Patti’s tone. It wasn’t new.

"Don’t mind Patti," Kathryn said sweetly. "She just likes to pretend she’s not jealous."

The crowd laughed. You didn’t.

You looked at Patti again. Her expression hadn’t changed, but her fingers had stopped tapping.

You didn’t know what made your stomach twist more—Kathryn’s arm still looped around you, or the way Patti wouldn’t meet your eyes.

The second the cameras stopped rolling and the host wrapped things up, you exhaled sharply, already peeling the mic from your lapel with trembling fingers. Kathryn gave your arm a squeeze before heading toward the hallway, chatting easily with the crew.

Patti hadn’t said a word.

You kept your eyes down, trying to stay out of her way—but she was on your heels the moment you left the stage.

"Y/N."

You froze, just outside the dressing room hallway. Her voice was lower now, quieter than it had been on the couch, but unmistakable.

You turned slowly, heart thudding. “Yes?”

She stepped closer. Not hurried. Not angry. Just focused. Her gaze pinned you in place.

"You want to tell me what that was?"

You blinked, confused. "What what was?"

“That performance,” she said, voice cool but laced with something simmering underneath. “The one where you giggled and blushed like a schoolgirl on national television while Hahn practically sat in your lap.”

You flushed. "We were just playing along—it was the interviewer, he asked—"

“I know what he asked,” Patti snapped. Her arms crossed again, but it didn’t look casual this time. It looked like restraint.

You tried to laugh it off. “It’s all pretend, Patti. You know that.”

She stepped forward again, close enough for you to smell her perfume—something expensive and heady and distinctly her.

“That’s the thing, sweetheart. I don’t think you do know.”

You blinked up at her. “What?”

"That what you’re doing—whatever game you think you’re playing—it has consequences."

"Patti—"

“Because I see the way you look at me when no one’s watching. I see how your hands shake when I stand too close.”

Her hand reached up, slow, trailing just under your jaw—knuckles grazing skin, so light it burned.

"And I don’t think you want Hahn,” she said, voice now velvet-smooth and low. “I think you want me. But you’re too scared to admit it.”

You swallowed, hard. Her fingers tilted your chin up.

“I’m right, aren’t I?”

You couldn’t answer.

She leaned in, lips brushing your cheek—not quite a kiss. A warning. A promise.

“Inside. Now.”

The dressing room door clicked shut behind you, and before you could even turn around, Patti had your back pressed to it. Her hands found your hips with no hesitation, guiding your body flush against hers.

“You’ve been teasing me for weeks,” she murmured, lips brushing your ear. “With those looks. With that pretty little laugh.”

You whimpered as her hand slipped under your blouse, skimming up your stomach, nails grazing your skin just enough to make you gasp.

“I wasn’t—” you started, breathless.

“Oh, sweetheart.” Her mouth curved into a smirk against your neck. “You really think I’d believe that?”

She kissed you—finally—and it wasn’t sweet or slow. It was hungry, possessive. Like she’d been waiting to do it since the day you were cast. Your hands scrambled for purchase in her blazer, gripping the lapels, letting her tongue part your lips and take everything.

When she pulled back, she didn’t give you time to recover.

“Take it off,” she said, voice commanding as she nodded to your top. “Now.”

You obeyed with trembling hands, heart in your throat, heat pooling low in your belly. Patti stepped in closer, her hands sliding behind your back to unhook your bra with practiced ease.

“Fuck, look at you,” she whispered, finally touching you—palms warm, slow, worshipful over your breasts, teasing your nipples until you whimpered.

She kissed her way down your neck, biting gently when you gasped.

"All that squirming on the interview couch, and this is what you were thinking about, huh?” she taunted. “Me doing this?”

Your hips rocked toward hers involuntarily, and she grinned against your skin.

“God, you’re soaked already,” she murmured as her hand dipped between your thighs, pressing the heel of her palm against you through your trousers. “You want me that bad?”

“Yes,” you gasped. “Yes—Patti, please—”

“Oh, you’re gonna beg?” she said, grinning. “Say it again.”

“Please,” you moaned. “I need you.”

She unbuttoned your trousers with quick fingers, shoving them down with your underwear in one go, then lifted you effortlessly onto the dressing table behind you, the mirror rattling behind your back.

“Keep looking at yourself,” she commanded. “I want you to see how pretty you look when I fuck you.”

Then she was between your legs—mouth hot and filthy, tongue unrelenting, fingers holding your thighs open like she owned you. You sobbed her name, watching your reflection blur through tears as she licked you through your first orgasm.

And then another.

And another.

By the time she stood, lips wet, eyes dark with hunger, your legs were trembling and your voice was wrecked.

She kissed you again, letting you taste yourself on her tongue, and whispered against your lips:

“You’re mine now. You hear me?”

You nodded desperately. “Yes. Yours.”

“Good girl.”

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

Surprise date

Hii guys, I hope you enjoy this story based on this idea I had, let me know if you want more of Esteban x reader :) Here's my masterist if you want to read more

It started like most of your conversations with Lance did—casual, slightly chaotic, and fuelled by drinks and mutual teasing.

You were both tucked into your usual booth in a low-key bar in Montreal, sipping cocktails after a long race weekend. The atmosphere was warm, dim, and full of quiet laughter from the other tables.

“I’ve decided I want to learn French,” you announced, half-dramatically, tipping your glass toward him.

Lance blinked, then snorted. “Since when?”

“Since I got asked for directions in French three times this week and just panicked every time,” you said, groaning. “Also, I feel like a fraud every time I order coffee and say merci with a clearly-not-French accent.”

Lance chuckled. “Well, lucky for you, I might know someone who could help.”

You perked up. “A tutor?”

His smile turned sly. “Something like that.”

You didn’t question it too hard. That was your first mistake.

A week later, Lance texted you an address with a winky face and the words “Enjoy.”

You followed it, expecting a cozy language café or someone’s apartment. Instead, you found yourself standing in front of a sleek, softly lit restaurant that looked like it required both a reservation and a decent outfit—which, thankfully, you were just barely wearing.

You frowned and shot Lance a message.

You: Why am I at a fancy restaurant??? Lance: Just go inside. Trust me. 😊

So you did.

The host greeted you warmly and said, “Follow me,” like he’d been expecting you. You trailed after him, weaving through tables and velvet chairs… until you saw him.

Esteban Ocon.

He stood up at your approach, his hands nervously smoothing down his white shirt. “Bonsoir,” he greeted, a bit hesitant but smiling softly.

You blinked. “Esteban?”

He nodded. “Lance said you wanted to learn French. I offered to help.”

Your mouth fell slightly open. “Lance set me up.”

Esteban chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Apparently so.”

You stared at him, half in disbelief and half in awe—because, wow. He looked good. Understated, elegant. You weren’t dressed for a date, but you didn’t feel out of place. Somehow, being here with him made it feel just right.

“Well,” you said, finally smiling as you slid into the chair across from him. “Guess my first French lesson is how to survive a surprise date.”

He grinned. “We can start slow. Maybe with some wine?”

The night flowed as easily as the conversation.

You started with a glass of red wine that Esteban picked—“It’s from the Rhône Valley. I think you’ll like it.” He was right.

He taught you a few casual phrases over the starter: J’ai faim (I’m hungry), c’est trop bon (this is so good), and tu parles trop vite (you speak too fast)—which you repeated after him, laughing every time you got the pronunciation wrong.

“French is so complicated,” you said, mouth full of warm goat cheese tart.

He smiled. “It’s not that bad. You just need the right teacher.”

“You mean someone patient?”

He leaned forward a little, voice teasing. “Exactly. And charming. Preferably tall, French, and very into surprise dates.”

You laughed, feeling your face heat up.

As the night went on, you talked about everything—childhood memories, the weirdest fan gifts he’s ever gotten, how he still gets nervous before certain races. You shared stories too, and you were surprised by how easy it was with him. How natural.

At one point, you both reached for the dessert menu at the same time, your fingers brushing.

He smiled gently, then offered his hand.

You placed yours in his, letting the spark linger.

After dinner, instead of calling it a night, Esteban suggested a walk. The evening air was cool but pleasant as you wandered down a quiet street near the river.

“I don’t think this counts as a language lesson anymore,” you teased as you walked side by side, your shoulder brushing his every so often.

“No?” he said, glancing sideways with a smile. “Then let me change that.”

He stopped and pointed to the stars above the water. “Étoiles,” he said. “Stars.”

You repeated it softly.

He took your hand again, gently. “Et toi… tu es magnifique.”

You blinked. “What does that mean?”

He smiled, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “You’ll have to learn to find out.”

Eventually, he walked you back to your car. Neither of you wanted the night to end.

“Merci,” you said, your French clumsy but heartfelt. “This was… really special.”

He nodded, looking a little bashful again. “I’d still like to help you with your French.”

You raised a brow. “Over coffee this time?”

“And maybe more dinners,” he said. “If you want.”

You tilted your head. “Esteban… are you asking me out?”

A pause. Then: “Yes,” he said simply, honestly. “I am.”

You smiled, heart full and fluttering. “Then oui. Definitely oui.”

He grinned and leaned in to press a soft kiss to your cheek. “Très bien.”

And just like that, your French lessons—and something new—had officially begun.

[xx-dinah-writing-xx]

Twin flames

Daemon Targaryen x Targaryen!reader fluff

————

The wind was sharp on Dragonstone’s cliffs, whistling like an omen through the weather-worn spires. Rain had just fallen and the air still smelled of salt, ash, and something ancient, something that stirred the blood of dragonkind and those bonded to them.

Daemon Targaryen stood before the beast that had once obeyed Prince Aemon’s every command, his silver-gold hair whipping in the coastal wind, violet eyes glittering with the thrill of destiny. Caraxes was coiled like a serpent among the rocks, the great red wyrm exhaling a stream of heat that shimmered in the air. He had accepted Daemon, after a brief, violent challenge. The boy had walked away with a singed cloak and pride blazing brighter than dragonfire.

You had watched it all.

You, his twin, born only minutes apart, raised at his side, slept in the same nursery crib, shared toys, shared secrets, shared dreams, watched as Daemon claimed the last available dragon of note. Caraxes. And you were left with nothing.

Nothing but the stinging silence of the dragon pit when you entered. No warm breath greeting you. No amber eyes meeting your own. Not even the hatchlings hatched on Driftmark paid you mind.

Viserys, your older brother, had managed to claim Balerion, the Black Dread himself. Even if the beast was nearly blind and half-sleeping now, he had answered the call.

But not you. Not you.

You sat on the rocks watching Daemon stroke Caraxes’ neck where the red scales transitioned to black. The dragon hummed lowly, deeply, a sound that rumbled in your bones. Your arms were crossed, a fat pouch of dried figs and honeyed almonds in your lap. Your pout could’ve rivaled that of any babe.

“Maybe he thinks I’m not real,” you muttered under your breath. “Maybe he thinks you were the only twin. Rude.”

Daemon laughed from below without turning. “He has taste. That’s all it is.”

“Oh, please,” you groaned dramatically. “You stink of goat blood and ego.”

“And you stink of envy.”

You stood with a huff and marched down the slope toward them. The dried figs jostled in your pouch, and Caraxes’s eyes tracked you with idle curiosity.

You approached carefully, heart stammering in your chest. “Caraxes,” you tried, voice soft, coaxing. “You like sweets? You like figs?” You held one out like a peace offering.

He huffed a cloud of steam and nudged your hand hard enough to send the fig tumbling into the dirt.

Daemon snorted. “He’s not a kitten, sweet sister.”

You tried again, stubborn. “I’m his aunt. Or niece. Technically. I think. That should mean something.”

Caraxes licked his teeth, clearly not moved by blood ties. He tolerated your presence only because of Daemon’s. And yet, when you reached out again, this time to press a tentative hand to his warm scales, he didn’t recoil. His skin was hot, rough like cracked leather and baked stone. A pulse thrummed beneath.

You locked eyes with Daemon, victorious. “He didn’t eat me.”

“He might be waiting,” Daemon teased, swinging easily onto the saddle strapped just behind Caraxes’ shoulders. “Or maybe he’s wondering why your voice sounds like mine.”

That gave you an idea.

————

That night, you smeared ash into your hair, dragged it into a quick braid to match Daemon’s, and dressed in his discarded tunic and cloak. You approached Caraxes alone, figs hidden in your sleeve, whistling the way Daemon did.

The dragon’s eyes flicked open.

“Caraxes,” you called softly, imitating your twin’s voice as best you could. “Come.”

Caraxes tilted his head. Snorted. Took a long, dramatic sniff—then sneezed directly at you, spraying ash and phlegm across the stony ground.

You stumbled back, drenched, face wrinkled in horror.

Daemon was already laughing before he stepped from the shadows. “You idiot. You really thought?”

“I almost had him!”

“You reek of honey and desperation,” he chuckled, tugging his cloak tighter against the wind.

You crossed your arms. “I hate you.”

“You love me.”

“Not right now I don’t.”

Caraxes rumbled, shifting lazily behind him. You looked up at the long, serpentine body, those knife-sharp wings tucked in. The beast’s eyes were half-lidded, but they flicked to you.

“You know,” Daemon said, more thoughtful this time, “he doesn’t hate you.”

“He just won’t let me on his back.”

“Because you’re not his rider.”

You turned away, heart pinching. “I know.”

“But you’re my twin.” Daemon came closer, dragging a hand down Caraxes’s warm flank. “And he’s starting to tolerate you. Which is more than anyone else has managed.”

You turned back slowly.

“So…?”

“So,” Daemon smirked, “you want to ride with me?”

Your eyes widened. “Are you serious?”

“I’ll have to strap you in. Like a sack of cabbages.”

“I don’t care, Daemon, I’ll be a potato if it means I can fly!”

He laughed and grabbed your wrist. “Come on then, potato. Let’s show Dragonstone how loud a twin can scream.”

————

The wind howled around you as Caraxes took to the skies, wings beating the air like thunderclaps. You were pressed close to Daemon’s back, your arms clutched around his waist, shrieking with exhilaration. The dragon twisted and tilted, the world tilting with him, cliffs and sea, castle and clouds all melting into blurs of gray and red and fire.

Caraxes shrieked, a high war-cry of a sound, and you screamed right back, laughing.

And for the first time since Prince Aemon died… since Viserys claimed Balerion… you felt like the skies could be yours, too.

[dearggntlereader]

Nr.11 Ice Rink ༻¨ : ·.. ｡⋆⍋*｡

Book!Percy Jackson x reader CW: probs OOC, picture does not represent the readers looks

You let out a scream that’s somewhere between a laugh, a yelp, and whatever noise a baby goat makes as it wipes out. You’re not sure. What you are sure of is that you’re about to faceplant into the ice.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow down there, Bambi!” Percy’s voice is full of laughter as he grabs your waist, saving you from total humiliation and bruises on your knees. 

Of course, he takes the opportunity to steady you a little too close, grabbing your waist instead of your Shoulders.

Your face heats up, but thank the gods, the biting cold explains the pink away. You glare up at him, teasingly offended. “Not all of us can be ice royalty, Your Grace.”

Percy smirks, the kind of smirk that would make monsters want to throw themselves off a cliff. “I’m the Ice King. Bow down, peasant.”

With that, he lets go of your waist (rude and slightly painful for his bleeding heart) and glides backward like he’s auditioning for Frozen: The Live Show, striking a ridiculous pose with his arms stretched wide. 

The loss of his warmth causes a stinging in your chest, but you know Percy: he’d sacrifice anything for a good bit.

You take a shaky step forward, laser-focused on remembering his advice: knees bent just slightly, feet pointed forward, back straight. Easy, right? 

Nope. 

You instantly flail like you’re being attacked by invisible harpies, stretching out your arms to save yourself. 

Percy doubles over with laughter, his whole body shaking.

“Oh gods, this must be what monsters felt like chasing me—slipping everywhere, totally desperate to keep up. Sweet, sweet revenge.”

“Percy,” you whine, glaring at him, wobbling dangerously, “if you don’t get over here right now and keep me from face planting—”

“Then what?” He raises an eyebrow, skating in a lazy circle. “You’re gonna chase me? While I skate away, all graceful and heroic?” He winks, but his smirk softens as he starts gliding toward you again, betraying his previous threats.

You try to focus on skating, but Percy’s stupid face makes it hard. His eyes are bright with joy, his laughter echoing off the ice, and you hate to admit it, but seeing him this happy makes every second of embarrassment worth it. The cold wind messes up your hair, your cheeks are probably redder than Apollo’s sun chariot, and yet—judging by the way he keeps sneaking glances at you—you might not look that bad, after all.

He reaches you, grabbing your hands in his gloved ones. Even through the layers, his touch burns like fire.

His hold on you is steady as he starts skating backward again, pulling you along easily.

You stumble a little, your fingers tightening instinctively around his. The movement pulls you closer—so close that you’re practically nose-to-nose. Percy’s eyes flicker down to your lips for half a second, and for once, no teasing remark comes to mind. He just...stares.

Before he knows it, he’s leaning in, his forehead brushing yours. 

He’s imagined this a thousand times—kissing you in some heroic, epic moment—but somehow, this is better. You, laughing and awkward and just...you.

And for once, Percy is absolutely, one hundred percent speechless.

Thank you all for supporting my blog!! As always, I appreciate all comments and reblogs. It's what keeps me going.

Comment to be added to the taglist: @dustie-faerie

[darknessisafriend]

Forbidden - Commodus

Hello, hello! I had teased it a short time ago. Here is a new story, a challenge I have given myself! I thought it would be interesting to explore Commodus tendencies, if it had ever been true (never was from what we know), but anyway, I wanted to work on a difficult subject and challenge myself. I hope you will enjoy this prologue, if y'all enjoy it, I will post more chapter later on :)

In the shadow of an empire, love dares what Rome forbids.

Albia is the younger daughter of Marcus Aurelius, clever, dutiful. Commodus is the future emperor, restless, adored, unraveling. As children, they were inseparable. As teens, they became something far more dangerous.

This isn’t just a tragedy. It’s a choice.

A story of forbidden passion, shattered loyalty, and the cost of becoming a god. For readers of tragic romance, imperial drama, and love that refuses to die quietly.

Summer 176 a.d, Rome 

The orange trees were in bloom again, their blossoms sweet and dizzying in the heat. Albia lay on the sun-warmed stone wall that overlooked the courtyard, her bare feet swaying above the ground, a scroll unopened beside her. 

“You’re supposed to be studying,” Commodus called up from below. He was a year older than her, and had recently turned 15.  

She tilted her head, grinning. “And you’re supposed to be in sword drills, brother. Shall we both pretend we’re obeying?” 

He climbed up beside her, robes dusty and loose, hair damp from exertion. “Father’s training is a bore. Maximus this, virtue that. I nearly stabbed my own foot from the monotony.” 

She concealed a giggle at his words “Maybe you should listen to him. You are going to rule Rome someday.” she threw him a knowing look.  

“I’d rather rule the kitchens,” he muttered. “No senators. No speeches. Just olives and honeybread. And painting by the sea too” he dreamt aloud, one of the many who did not have the choice of their future. 

Albia laughed, pushing his shoulder gently. “You’d be a terrible cook.” 

“I’d make you the taster. That way I could blame you if it went wrong.” 

They sat in the warmth, the kind that soaked into skin and softened the edges of things. A soft breeze scattered petals across the stone like forgotten confetti. 

He glanced at her, quiet for a moment. “Do you ever wish we were born peasants?” 

She turned to him, surprised. “Why?” 

“No duty. No eyes watching. We could run through the streets, sell fruit, raise goats.” 

Albia snorted. “You? Raise goats? You’d cry the first time one kicked you.” 

He grinned but didn’t deny it. “Still. It would be better than this.” 

They shared the silence, more comfortable now. His hand brushed against hers. Not intentional, but neither moved away. 

“Lucilla says I’m a bad influence on you,” he said after a while. 

“She says that to everyone.” 

“She’s right, though,” he added. “I make you laugh when you’re supposed to be serious. I make you skip studies. I pull you into trouble.” 

“I let you.” Albia replied, a calm smile on her lips as she enjoyed the warm wind blowing on her skin. 

That answer lingered between them. Albia looked down at their hands, still close. Not touching. Not yet. 

“Someday,” she said, softer now, “We won’t be able to do this anymore.” 

“Why not?” 

She didn’t answer. Neither of them knew. Or maybe they did. 

He reached up and plucked a white blossom from the orange tree, tucking it behind her ear. “Then let’s enjoy before we grow up."

Winter 176 a.d 

They said Rome’s winters were mild, but the halls of the imperial palace were colder than snow. Albia felt it most when Commodus returned from the training grounds, sweat-soaked and silent, eyes lit with some unspoken fury. But when he saw her, beyond the marble columns and wary servants, something gentled in him.  

"You're scowling again, brother." Albia said, grinning as she tossed a peeled date at him. 

He caught it easily, popped it into his mouth. “I’m always scowling. That’s how men look important.” 

“That’s how you look constipated,” she shot back. 

He lunged at her without warning, catching her around the waist. She shrieked and twisted, but he lifted her off the ground as she flailed, laughing. 

“Say it again,” he teased, breath warm against her ear. 

“Constipated,” she choked between laughs. “Utterly and royally.” 

He dropped her gently onto one of the cushioned benches in the alcove, both of them breathless, smiling. The guards were far; Lucilla was at study. For once, they were just Albia and Commodus, two foolish souls in a palace too vast for children’s games. 

“Do you remember,” she said softly, “when we tried to race chariots in the corridor and shattered Father's bust of Cicero?” 

He chuckled, leaning back on his hands. “You swore it was my fault.” 

“It was your fault,” she said, poking his arm. “You dared me to.” 

“You always take my dares.” he grinned proudly. 

She was still smiling when their eyes caught, something unspoken suddenly stretching between them. The warmth of the moment hung, delicate, uncertain. 

He reached for her hand. “You’re the only one who sees me, Albia. For who I am, not what father makes of me.” 

“I always will.” Her voice barely rose above a whisper, and the air shifted. He leaned in, hesitating just long enough for her breath to catch. And then, their lips brushed, featherlike. 

It wasn’t bold, or fierce, or wrong, not yet. It was a whisper of a kiss, gentle and full of the years they’d shared. But when they broke apart, as fast as it happened the silence returned heavy. 

Albia blinked. “Commodus…” then she giggled "You silly!" maybe it was nervous reaction or they didn't grab yet the impact of the situation.

His expression had changed, softened, yes, but troubled too. They both knew what had passed between them could never be spoken aloud. 

She stood quickly, brushing her dress. “We shouldn’t you know…” 

“I know.” he breathed and looked at the horizon, his gaze growing storm, as if to announce what was to come.

Their laughter was gone. In its place stood something vast, frightening and real. 

tag list: @skaravile @lyoongx @weirdflecksbutok @stardancerluv @sgtsavoytruffle​ @ohcarlesmycarles​ @rajacero @niniitah-ah @morrisonmercurryphoenix @fly-like-a-phoenix​ @thatdummy-girl​ @galos-writing @hopelessdisasterr @buttergirlie​ @rosebloodstuffandthangss​ @clowndaddyfleck​ @jaylovesbats @dreamingmaria​ @just-a-fucking-comedy​ @lady-carnivals-stuff​ @sierraclegane​​ @lemondedeniname​​ @hvproductions​​ @syvellsworld​​ @papercut-paranoia​​ @jokerflecker​​ ​ @bring-your-holy-water @five-miles-over​ @beatlebabe1996​ @kfanniart @soulsfrostedheart18 @mayflower-gal @creativestorylove

[saphiccarma]

Agatha and Rio Headcanons

Agatha:

Was actually really sweet before her mother tried to kill her, but then she realized that not everyone in the world was good.

Def a player, 100% a girl kisser.

The first time she met Rio, she flung herself into Death's arms and sobbed

Loves to tease in bed and enjoys the way Rio will get flustered slightly.

Refuses to submit in any way shape or form. She learned the hard way that she had to be in controll if she wanted to survive.

At first she hated the killing, it tore her apart, but again, she did what she had to do to survive.

Agatha taught Rio what it meant to be human.

Agatha would hum to Nicky at night so he fell asleep and would use her powers to make sure he didn't have bad dreams.

Isn't a big fan on physical touch, but loves to have Rio's head in her lap and running fingers through her hair.

Would hang out with Rio by the river and that's how Rio got her name.

the most stubborn w (b) itch you will ever meet, absolutely refuses to admit she's wrong.

Rio

for the longest time she couldn't touch someone without them immediately dying. Agatha was the first person she could have physical contact with and learned how to control it.

LOVES physical touch. Especially her hair being played with and hands trailing down her face.

Taught Agatha what love is.

Very stubborn, but less so from Agatha. Refuses to submit, but ends up doing it in the end.

She didn't have to follow the trail of bodies Agatha left after Nicholas, she could have let them cool for a while, but seeing Agatha again was always nice.

Nicholas' goat was a birthday present. Agatha was pissed.

While Nicky was alive she would secretly grow flowers for him, the prettiest ones she could find and would visit him late at night.

had never been in love before Agatha, yet it came so easily to her.

[garbinge]

You, Me, and Italy

Michael Berzatto x F!Reader From these August Prompts:  Italy Word Count: 3.5k Warnings: All my fics are 18+, angsty, mentions of suicide, death, grief, loss, broken heart, drug use, addiction, being high, someone close to ODing, uncomfortable, sad, mentions of sexual situations, it's based on canon mentions of suicide and death and grieving, but a little more in depth. So just be weary of any triggers one might have in reference to these things.

A/N: This is not apart of my Richie Jerimovich multichap. This is heavy. I try and steer clear of fics like this because of my own triggers and trauma around drug abuse and addiction but this just was an idea sitting in my head probably because of all that trauma. The Bear Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics @quixscentsposts @dadbodfanatic-x @adorable-punk-superheroes @lodeddiperrodrick @isalver @captainweasleybarnes @musicwithteeth @fancyvoidtragedy @shinebright2000 @knight4xmas

The kitchen was always your favorite place to be when you couldn’t sleep. Something about the ability to hear every single noise in a space where usually you’d be lucky to hear the person next to you speak at a normal tone. 

You had come in through the back, placed your stuff down in the locker that had your name written on a green piece of tape, your insanely patterned bandana was snug around your head just above your forehead, something you always wore when cooking. Now, the sounds of the water running as you washed your hands filled your ears and was followed by the clunks of pulling the knives out, the blade tinging as you set it free from its case. Now slicing, the quick quippy sounds of the thin slices of all the items you needed to prep. Basil, onions, garlic, fig, and parmesan cheese. All the ingredients you picked up from the grocery story that was still open this late. The chopping and the sizzling filled your ears in a similar way that music would fill someone else’s. It kept you grounded, kept you calm, kept you in the moment. 

“Late night snack?” A voice interrupted that tranquility but surprisingly, there was no reaction from your side. You kept steady as your hand tossed the garlic and basil in the olive oil, other hand equipped with a spoon ready to add in the parmesan ricotta mixture. 

“You’re lucky I don’t scare easily.” Your voice was steady as you focused on the pan in front of you. 

Mikey looked down and laughed before he made his way from the office over to his best chef and best friend. He leaned against the prep area, hands crossed as you had your back to him. 

“You should toast the breadcrumbs.” Mikey said as he took in what you were doing. 

Immediately, your head turned to look over your shoulder and shot the man a look. “I’m a one-woman show here, Mikey. I’m getting to it.” 

“You know, I can help you out.” He had crossed his leg over the other now as he waited for a response. “Only if you want to.” His arms were now uncrossed as he raised them in a surrender.

Your head tilted, the only invitation he needed to start helping out. 

“I’m making arancini, fig and garlic arancini.” You specified. 

“Rice balls. You’re making rice balls.” Mikey teased. “What inspired the fig?” He asked as he toasted the bread crumbs at the stove next to you. 

“Remember when we went to that bar the other night?” You looked up at him, despite being a few feet down from you, he still towered over you in height. “While you and Richie were off doing God knows what, I ordered shit from the bar. They had this fig, arugula, and goat cheese pizza.”

“Jesus Christ, what fuckin’ bar were we at?” Mikey laughed at the fanciness of how it all sounded. 

“That place, Porta. I’d say it was more hipster than fancy.” 

“God, I don’t even remember.” Mikey laughed before placing his attention back on you and continuing the conversation. “So the pizza was good?” 

“It was, and I just kept thinking what would go well with fig and landed at a rice ball.” 

“Arancini.” Mikey corrected you with the biggest grin growing on his face. 

A laugh left your mouth as you took the sauce off the heat, wanting it to cool down slightly before pouring it into the egg mixture that was already placed in the fridge. 

The silence fell over the both of you and you both continued to move around the kitchen. Mikey stood with the bowl of rice in his hands, resting it on the prep counter as you stood over and poured in the egg mixture. Mikey was whisking it around rapidly, that way the eggs didn’t scramble. The smell coming from the bowl was filled with savory scents of garlic and sweet touches of fig reduction. 

“You good, buddy?” Mikey was looking at you as he stirred everything around. It wasn’t so much in reference to your current state, which was focused as you concentrated on pouring the egg mixture in, but more in reference to why you were here late. 

Buddy. Such a Mikey term. The two of you knew each other for years, meeting when you were smoking in the back of the restaurant you used to work out. To put it in simple terms, he poached you. He had just grabbed a bite at said restaurant, with his brother Carmy, a detail you found out later since Mikey came alone to the alley in the back where you had been taking a break. He asked if you had made the slow braised beef and proceeded to tell you about his restaurant. You never walked back into that restaurant again and started at The Beef the next day. 

As time passed, things got close with Mikey. The two of you just fed off each other, you vibed effortlessly and one day that led to more. You spent a majority of the night locked in the office making a bed out of the table, the floor, the bookshelf, anything that had an inch of a flat surface, Mikey took you. That however, never amounted to more. It was always just sex. There was no label on what the two of you had, no real dates, no holding hands, just stolen moments around the restaurant, late nights in the kitchen, nights out at bars, and overnights spent at each others places. But that never made anything awkward because despite there being no label, everyone knew there was something between you two. It was impossible to miss. The way you two got along, the way you spent every waking moment together, whether you were at the restaurant or not. But what the real dead giveaway was, you two moved in the kitchen like you had perfected a choreographed dance, every, single, time. There was never any missteps, any arguing, no bumping into each other, you just glided by each other, calling out kitchen terms and directions. It was a sight to be seen, everyone thought so. Including the family. Sugar and Carmy were impressed when you came by for the first time maybe a month into starting at The Beef. Richie had already seen how the two of you worked together but both Berzatto siblings were shocked by it. 

“Hey, you good?” Mikey repeated himself and bent down a little to look into your eyes. 

“Yea, sorry.” You shook your head from your thoughts. 

“I don’t buy it.” Mikey pressed you again for more information. “What’s with late night rice balls?” 

“You ever feel stuck?” There was no point in trying to hide what you were feeling from Mikey. 

“Uh, just every day of my life.” You let out a breath through your nose in a sort of chuckle. “I just, wish I could get out of here.” The frustration was littered in your voice. 

“Where would you go?” He set the bowl down now that everything was stirred, and he turned to face you. 

“Anywhere.” You turned too so you were facing him. 

“So let’s go.” His voice raised, like what he said and meant didn’t need planning, didn’t need money, he spoke it outloud like it was the easiest thing to achieve. 

“Yea, where?” You were about to start naming off places around here in Chicago as a joke but he was quick to answer you. 

“Italy.” 

You frowned but a smile was growing on your face. “Italy?” You questioned. 

“Yea, let’s go to Italy, we’ll eat all the rice balls in the fuckin’ country, we’ll learn how to make ‘em like a true Italian. We’ll eat our way around Rome, Sicily, Naples, it’ll be great, just me and you and Italy.” He was so energetic in how he spoke, his hands were in the air, his voice was echoing off the kitchen walls. 

“You, me, and Italy?” You questioned him as your head nodded in agreement. 

“You, me, and Italy.” Mikey nodded with the biggest smile on his face. 

____

Time might’ve passed and a lot of things might’ve changed, but sometimes stayed exactly the same. You were pushing through the back door of The Beef, bag and kitchen tools in hand as the clock ticked past 1AM. 

“Mikey?” You called out, expecting to see him appear in the kitchen. You called out again and heard nothing. It was odd, but also maybe not. He had been distant lately, you picked up on that when most nights he didn’t come back to your place. You knew things had been tough for him, he was having money issues and as a result moved back in with his mother, he was stressed. Every time you did get the chance to see him, he wasn’t fully there, sometimes you’d taste alcohol on his breath, others you could tell his mind was caught in a thought or 20. 

Moving to the lockers, you saw the door open just slightly and the lamp on illuminating a ton of paperwork. You saw his hand resting on the table and slowly peaked in. 

Now, you had your suspicions, they were probably more than suspicions, you knew. You knew Mikey was hooked on something. But you didn’t want to accept it. But there it was, slapping you right in the face. It had been functional, he had been functional, which is what made it easy for you to question, for you to say nothing. After tonight, you’d regret it, you’d regret staying silent, not giving in to your suspicions, voicing them out loud. 

You took in the sight of him, he was so out of it, you could see his glazed over eyes even from the distance you were at. The giveaway as if everything else wasn’t so obvious was the pills scattered all over the paperwork in front of him. 

“Mikey.” The urgency hit you just as much as the the scene of him. You were next to him in seconds, shaking him awake. 

The smile that filled his face as he stared at you, the smile that warmed your heart, the smile that melted you, the smile of your best fucking friend was breaking you. 

“What–what’re you doin’ here?” 

“How much did you take, Mikey?” You moved forward to the table to search for a bottle, a pill count, see how many were on the table, but Mikey’s hands began to grab your arms. 

“No, no, no, no, no. Stop, you’re ruining the fun.” Mikey complained, his voice was slurred. 

You pulled back immediately, uncomfortable and unsure what to do. Your heart was beating fast and before your tears could even start falling, Mikey started yelling. “You’re ruining the fun!!” It was a repetition of what he had said before and all it did was secure your feet frozen to the ground. “That’s all anyone ever does anymore. Ruin the fucking fun.” He spun in the swivel chair like a child and when it stopped spinning he looked at the bookshelf and began speaking again, but this time more at a whisper. 

“Even my own fuckin girl. I can’t have anything.”  

You snuck out the door, searching for your phone in your pocket. The irony that in your hastiness, you spent more time looking for it than if you searched for it with purpose and patience. 

As you picked your phone up to your ear, your hand was shaking. “C’mon, pick up, pick up.” You mumbled, taking your other hand to pick at your lip. 

“It’s 1 in the fuckin’ morning, I’m neck deep in shit diapers, if this is you and Mikey asking me to go out, I’m blocking your number for eternity.” Richie seemed stressed in a completely different way. 

“Richie, it’s Mikey, he uh, I don’t know, there’s pills, he’s awake–sort of?, he’s angry, I don’t know how much he took but he, he uh, I just need help, I need you down here, can you get down here, please?” The shakiness in your voice was the dam holding back your tears. 

“I’ll be there in 10 minutes. Keep him up.” 

With that Richie hung up and you were moving back into the office, you squatted down and turned the chair so he was facing you. “Mikey, babe?” You tried to keep your voice soft. His red, glossy eyes met yours as he plopped his head down to look at you. 

“My girl.” A little bit of hope filled his face, he reached his hand up to cup your face. The impulse to pull away was strong but you stayed there, you stayed there with him and let him speak to you. 

“You’re so pretty, you know that? So pretty. And you’re so talented, you can throw down, you know that? Best fuckin slow braised beef I’ve ever fuckin’ had.” 

The amount of compliments he was giving you, it should’ve had you elated, floating, with butterflies but instead it was making you sick–uneasy. And you just had to sit there and let him say it, over and over again. You were counting in your head, hoping that once you got to the 10th 60th second count, that Richie would be here. 

“Hey hey hey, you listening to me?” Mikey moved slightly to look at you, even in his fogged state he could tell your mind was elsewhere. 

“Mhm.” You nodded, tears welling up in your eyes as you stared into his eyes. 

“You, me, and Italy, baby. You, me, and Italy.” The second time he said it, it was in a whisper like he was desperate for it to be true. Like if he said it low enough the world would grant him the wish. That’s when you really saw him, saw what was happening in his brain. Alongside that hopeful look was one of peace and happiness. The absolute gut wrenching emotion you felt in your heart when you realized it. How being high set Mikey free, set him free from his demons, in some weird twisted way this was the closest you’ve seen Mikey to his usual self. 

Before your heart could break anymore, you heard Richie’s voice behind you and he was slipping into your spot and picking Mikey up.

______

“You know I remember this one time, we went over to Mikey’s place, the one on Courtyard, me, Carm, and Richie, and it was Sunday, Braciole night. We walk in, Mikey’s got the game playing so loud in the background, we start prepping, cooking. I remember he told me not to put raisins in the braciole even though that’s how mom did it. And he just, he had this smile on for those first 30 minutes, like he had something planned, like he was in on the joke. But the thing is none of us knew what the joke was. And then, the door opened, we were all confused at who it was and then, this woman appeared. Mikey introduced her to us, he was so happy, and we were like shocked, cause Mikey, our big brother, the player, brought this girl over to our fucked up family Sunday night dinner. She didn’t care that the TV was loud, that we were even louder, that Mikey and Richie would tell the most insane stories, over and over again, and in fact, she moved around the kitchen like, well, like she’d known us all our whole lives. I don’t know if I ever saw Mikey so happy.” Sugar was sitting in bed, her phone on speaker while you sat silent on the other line. 

“You at the restaurant?” Sugar cleared her throat. 

“Standing right outside it.” You spoke up, trying to hide your tears from the story Sugar just told. 

“I’ll be there soon.” There was rustling on the other side of the phone, like she had started to get up and get ready. 

“Sugar?” You questioned, worried she was about to hang up. 

“Hm?” She hummed. 

“Thank you.” It was two words but sometimes you needed to hear it. How much Mikey loved you, he didn’t tell you often, but you felt it, you saw it. But now, that he was gone, that all that was left of Mikey for you was the things he left at your place, the memories you shared, you took the antidotes Sugar occasionally told you and kept them someplace special. 

“I’ll see you in the chaos.” Sugar replied back to you in which you did the same. 

For a few seconds after the phone call, you stood there, staring at the gutted restaurant, staring at the mayhem happening behind the glass, which was normal for the restaurant, whether it was in business or not. But right now, standing outside, in the peace of the quiet reminded you of those late nights in the kitchen, and you were destined to hold onto that peace for just a few more minutes. 

Eventually, you joined the chaos. Greeting everyone as you made your way through the renovation. Finding yourself getting swept up into something in the immediate first seconds you entered the front door. After an hour or so, when you wrapped up your job in the front, you made your way to the kitchen.  

“What’re you doing?” You placed your stuff down in the office as you walked past Richie, Fak, and Marcus who were gathered around someone’s phone watching a video, arguing back and forth. Natalie stood up from the chair in the office and placed a hand on your shoulder in a half greeting and walked over to the arguing men. Your eyes lingered on the office table and chair a little longer than normal, letting the memories flood into your brain for a short few seconds before you turned to put your attention back on everyone. 

“Scraping and painting and fighting over moving the lockers.” Marcus spoke up. 

You turned around and stepped out of the office, staring at them trying to attempt to move the lockers. Carmy had appeared now, yelling at them to keep it down and when the mention of Mikey’s locker still being locked was announced, that’s when everyone silences. 

“Just fuckin’ open it.” Carmy spoke up. 

A hat. June 5th, 2010. Taste of Chicago. The booth. 

You smiled at that. You weren’t there for the booth, but you heard all about it. From the family, but from Mikey, it was one of the many stories he’d tell you over and over and honestly, you’d do anything to hear him tell it 200 more times. 

Carmy handed the hat to Richie, and as he turned around his eyes fell on your. 

“Yo, uh, I got something for you.” He said and walked right past you into the office, searching for something. As everyone went back to working, you turned and took a few steps towards Carmy as he moved the papers around looking for something. 

“So, uh, we’re sending Ebra and Tina to culinary school, for them to stay sharp, learn some new shit, and uh, I–we, Syd and I figured you didn’t want or honestly really need that, so uh–here!” He proclaimed the last word louder than the rest as he found the envelope with your name written on it and handed it to you. 

You looked down at it for a second and then back at Carmy, you two didn’t talk much in general, but you definitely didn’t talk much about him. 

“You and Syd…” You started to say as you mindlessly tapped the envelope against your skin. “You uh,” You wanted to say that the two of them reminded you a lot of you and Mikey, the effortlessness in the kitchen, the way their ideas just bounced off each others and how they brought this new sense of life to each other. But it was that last thought that weighed heavy on you. There was a point that Mikey brought a new sense of life to you and you did the same to him but unfortunately that emotion, that feeling, had changed at some point, at no ones fault but it didn’t stop you from not cherishing it more. “Just, don’t take it for granted.” 

“Yea, yea.” Carmy nodded, getting where you were coming from but also not really wanting to get into it and you were okay with that because you didn’t want to get into it either. 

Carmy’s eyes moved down to the envelope and back to you. Taking the hint you nodded. “Right.” You said quickly and began to rip the envelope open. As your hand reached in and pulled out the papers in the envelope, you saw the word United and then followed by a seat and time and that’s when you saw the airports. 

ORD – NAP

Naples International Airport. 

“Carmy.” You looked up, eyes shocked. 

“It’s what Mikey would’ve wanted.” Carmy nodded and walked by you, taking his hand to rest on your shoulder and then tap it as he exited the office. 

You stared down at the tickets, trying to take in everything. 

“You, me, and Italy, Mikey.”  

[queenie-the-court-jester]

oc kink list 2

Mdni🌺 enjoy (this is highly nsfw)

dog hybrids;

Brutus: knotting, breeding, impact play, scenting and marking

dolly: risky play, femdom, light bondage, dirty talk, praise

Bladviba: vanilla mf. BORINGG. atleast his aftercare is amazing

molly is technically a minor, so skipping

Sweet pea too

bubba: choking, knotting, dirty talk, degradation

Cat hybrids;

Princess: pillow princess all the way. Lactation kink, bratty sub, bondage, spanking,

Prince: breeding kink, scenting, marking, a little bit of an exhibitionist, mild humiliation

King: sadistic, heavy bondage, sensory deprivation, non-con roleplay, impact play, daddy kink, spanking, loves making his s/o cry, humiliation, jealousy sex. He likes doing all these things to his darling, but doesn't like it when his darling asks to return the favor

cow & bull hybrids;

big daddy: dilf. daddy kink, soft dom, breeding, tummy cock bulge, overstimulation

Mrs.bené: milf. Mommy kink, soft dom, lactation kink, threesome, edging

ms.blackberry: spanking, degrading/praising, light bondage, lactation kink, roleplay

Ms.polly: hunter/prey dynamic, blood kink, knife play, marking, body writing, high libido

ms.frufru: food play, squirting, teasing, edging, orgasm denial, overstimulation

Ms.vivian: soft dom, praising, very vanilla

Johnny: cock warming, overstimulation, breeding, lactation kink, impact play

Centaurs;

jacqueline: service top, soft dom, cunnilingus, overstimulation

timothy: brat taming, power bottom, tummy cock bulge, cum inflation, brutal sex, marking, slapping, degrading

maya is a Minor

casper: praising, doesn't say much during sex, pining, overstimulation, spit swapping

miguel: let him tap it he'll cum immediately. Dirty talk, whiny switch, screams too much, very sensitive, leaks so much precum, foreplay, cum smearing

harmony: this motherfucker has so many kinks. Roleplay, impact play, cunnilingus, face sitting, edging, orgasm denial, cock slapping, breeding, cum inflation, tummy cock bulge, power top, overstimulation, marking, brutal sex

Harpies;

Sydney: ver sensitive. Cums easily. Whiny bottom brat. Very vocal In bed

Evangeline: vanilla #3. Breeding

gabriel: bratty top, degrading, impact play, jealous sex, overstimulation, dumbification, breeding

fajarah: aroace #2!!

foolish: cunnilingus, whiny bottom, cock rings, overstimulation, orgasm denial

simon: gentle dom, slow sensual sex, praising, teasing, long foreplay, overstimulation, scenting, breeding

merfolk;

Koi quintuplets: they all like taking special roles in pleasuring you. Tancho and korom take turns bullying your poor hole. Kiko and Hime take turns riding your face or fingers, tsu sucks your nipples and fucks your throat

Mason: slow sensual sex, very quiet, overstimulation, breeding

goats;

sally: vanilla #4

Opal: pillow princess, needy bottom, lactation kink, roleplay

Sasha: exhibition, praising, dommy mommy

Kim: switch, soft dom, gentle sensual sex, very vocal

Sheep;

poka and juniper: threesome, breeding, cunnilingus, scissoring, overstimulation, dirty talk, needy switches, light bondage

violet: gentle dom, praising, slow sensual sex, scissoring, face sitting

Azucar is a minor

wehrner: vanilla #5

Wolf pack;

roxy: soft dom, rough sex, knotting, breeding, cum inflation, breeding, overstimulation

Milo: soft dom, lactation kink, knotting, breeding, dry humping, cunnilingus

silas: daddy kink, spanking, praising, knotting, overstimulation, edging, orgasm denial

kiki: knotting, brutal sex, humping, impact play, knotting, marking

Extras;

Coachella: breeding, Marathon sex, oviposition, degradation, teasing, edging

Cotton: Marathon sex, intense breeding kink, mommy kink, impact play, degradation/praising, cunnilingus, edging, whiny switch

[collectivecloseness]

Eddie Munson getting a bump/bruise/cut on his head that you put a bandaid on, and he’s bumping it into your mouth every fifteen seconds, like a cat, and being the whiniest baby ever. He needs you to kiss his mark now! Every time, every second! Love him! He’s hurt! Help him!

‘Nooooo’ he whines when you are not kissing it/him. It was his own fault he got it, you told him to be careful when he was acting like his usual self, pre-bandaid. You’ve given him some ibuprofen and water, but he’s all cuddled up to you and not going anywhere.

He will straight up look at you offended if you even mention you are getting up, like he will give you the most offended and sometimes bitchy look, for real. How dare you even think about leaving him in his condition right now?

He’ll nuzzle his bandaided head into your mouth tirelessly, so much that no matter where you move your head, or if you’re trying to talk, you’ve got a plaster and Eddie’s boney head and a tonne of curls following your face everywhere, nuzzling right into your lips so you can’t even talk to Eddie about it. You’re smothered easily once again.

There’s no escape from Eddie and his need. You could breathe if you just gave him his kisses like he wanted! Eventually you get too busy pulling hairs out your mouth, while Eddie’s whimpering into your jaw, how you’re just being so horrible to him, whilst still hiding in your face.

Eddie is your stubborn and soft baby but he will just ram his head into your face harder if you say that. When you ask him if his injury hurts so much why is him acting like a horned goat not making him cry in pain, he just grabs your arms and pulls them over himself instead. Not letting you move your arms out of his tight hold whatsoever.

When you stop babying Eddie, or tease him too much, he’s telling you how mean you are to your injured boyfriend, saying don’t you always tell him boys can show their vulnerable side too, and why won’t you use your mouth for less bullying him and more magical healing kissing? Why don’t you love him anymore huh?

He keeps up with this all the way until nighttime, even if it happened in the morning. He’ll be the saddest/most annoying (whatever works) boy all day long so you stay snuggled up with him, looking after your poor injured helpless baby.

Eddie will only fall asleep with you constantly giving kisses around, not on, his very small no longer even hurting mark, swearing that’s the only way he can be lulled to sleep. Blinking those dark brown eyes up at you if you stop, and pouting about how he can’t sleep the pain away if you do that.

And God, Eddie Munson can sell cute.

And that’s just how Eddie dozes off after a long hard day for him, with your arms and legs wrapped around him, his own limbs clinging around yours, and with constant kisses to his injured head until he’s knocked out peacefully in bed snuggled into you, unrelated to his head trauma