#3 hours are feeling like one and a half hour | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

crescenthistory · 2 days ago

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hi there love! i hope you're doing well 🤍 if it's okay w/ u, i'd like to request a regulus fic (are we surprised? no-) with an animagus! reader. maybe reggie and reader got into a fight about something and reader's still holding a grudge. they refuse to change out of their cat (or any animal u choose!) form and regulus is trying everything to get them to change back. ending in fluff probably :D

~🍓

i'm quite alright darling, hope the same goes for you<3 this little drabble is written with the same cat!animagus!reader i've written for reggie so far in mind (whiskers, my love) since she's known to be petty...

Words: 1.3k

Warnings: fem!reader, minor fight (lighthearted), embarrassment, you're petty, regulus grovels, black brothers have poor people skills, make-up, background wolfstar and (judgemental) bsf!remus

"How long has she been like this?"

Sirius was eyeing Regulus funnily, seemingly drawn between wanting to laugh at him and wondering if maybe he should comfort him. Remus felt none of the latter sentiments and all of the former.

"Since our last class on Friday," Regulus replied miserably from where his face was buried in his hands, resting atop his knees. "She shifted immediately after."

"So... for over 24 hours," Sirius surmised.

That was apparently the wrong thing to say, based on how Regulus lifted his head from where he was practically bent in half, just to glare at his older brother. "Thanks for doing the maths, Sirius. Not the problem I needed solving, though." Throughout his sentence, his eyes increasingly narrowed at his brother as if his irritation grew with every word.

"No, your problem," Remus volleyed. "Is whatever the hell you've done."

Regulus groaned and buried his face once more.

Across the common room from the trio, a white and grey cat was pettily walking back and forth along whatever furniture it could reach. Its tail was standing up straight, whipping about in annoyance.

Remus poked Regulus in the ribs to get a response. "What'd you do, Baby Black?"

"I may or may not have corrected her in Potions in front of Slughorn, even though she may have been working on gaining his respect all term," Regulus murmured.

The chuckle that escaped Remus was finally one of understanding. "Ah," he said through a smile. "I believe that is what we in the business call a rookie mistake."

Regulus sat up with a jerk, hands moving emotively as he made his case to his brother and brother-in-law, where they were sat on top of each other in a plush chair. "But I've apologised! Profusely, and several times! I don't know what else to do?" The last sentence was voiced as a question, though it was not formulated as one. Perhaps the closest the younger Black brother could get to asking for help.

"Maybe you should give Slughorn a speech about how great she is."

Regulus quirked up at that, eyes zeroing in on Sirius. "You really think that would work?" Remus could have burst out laughing at the lack of sarcasm in the younger boy's voice.

"No," Remus said softly, while chidingly patting Sirius' knee. "Don't listen to him, you lot have the same amount of people skills. Do you know your girlfriend, Regulus?"

"Yes?" Regulus' voice was uncertain, looking between the boys with furrowed brows.

"What usually motivates her to hold a grudge?" Remus prompted then, ever patient.

He was quiet for a minute as he thought. "When she feels wronged. Like when Evan apologised for her 'interpretaion' of what he said instead of for him hurting her feelings, and she disliked him for three years."

Remus nodded solemnly. "And is there a reason she might still feel wronged by you now?"

Regulus' gaze finally fixated on the cat across the room, nodding too as the puzzle pieces slowly assembled in his mind. "I apologised for correcting her... but not embarrassing her. She probably feels like I was lording over her or something."

"Meaning..?" Gods, Remus was really laying it on thick here. The curse of the Black family.

"I should go tell her as much." Regulus nodded and moved to hurry over towards you, swinging around at the last minute to give the two boys an almost-smile. "Uh, thanks Sirius. Remus."

Then he was off.

Sirius turned his face into Remus' cheek. "No idea what he's thanking me for; you did all the talking."

Remus sighed, melting further into his boyfriend. "That's what I've been saying."

Regulus tenderly approached you, sitting down somewhat gingerly in a chair beside the table you were currently parading around. "Hi, amour," he said softly. "Can we talk?"

You just wagged your tail in response, in a fashion Regulus has come to learn means displeasure.

"Please love, I want to give you a proper apology. It would be best to do so face-to-face, no?" He reached his hand out towards you, an open invitation. You stopped for a moment to regard him, but then lightly slapped at his hand to get it out of your face. Regulus decided to take it as a victory that your claws were retracted at the very least – you weren't out for blood.

“Okay,” he said through a breath. “I guess I’ll just… talk to a kitten and look crazy.” Upon your quiet hiss, he amended, “Talk to a cat, sorry. Gods, I’m sputtering today, aren’t I?” That final part you seemed to agree upon at least.

“Amour, I am truly deeply sorry for embarrassing you like that. It was such a little thing, and Slughorn has been so unfair towards you this year. I didn't mean to set you back in your progression with him, though frankly, he is in the wrong there, not you. As am I. For someone who feels like he can go around correcting people, that was quite air-headed of me, yeah? The one person keeping me grounded is you, amour, please would you come back to me? You can give me a proper scolding if you’d like, I can take it.”

Regulus was pouring his heart out, and if he dared to hope, he thought your feline face might have softened. You walked closer to him, seemingly studying his face.

Then, you jumped off the table and ran away.

He sighed heavily, letting his forehead fall down to the table with a light thump. If you were going to keep giving him the furred shoulder, he might just stay here. It was hard work being a tosser who’s missing his girlfriend.

Before he could wallow further in his sorrows, he felt a soft hand be placed on his shoulder. A touch he would recognise anywhere.

His head flew up from the table to look up at you – standing above him, smiling softly and somewhat sheepishly. The hand on his shoulder grew bolder, squeezing, while the other came up to cup the side of his face. Regulus ignored any instinct to cower away and instead happily melted into your touch.

“Hi, baby,” you whispered, and he knew he was mostly forgiven.

Emboldened by this new development, he turned in his seat so that his body faced you, slotting you in between his thighs and letting his hands come to rest heavily at the top of your hip. “Hi amour,” he breathed out, reverent. “Thank you.”

“For what?” you laughed, and he knew you knew what. He indulged you anyway.

“Coming back to me.” His voice was murmured, eyes hooded as he stared up at you. “I miss you when you remain as Whiskers, you know?”

“I do know,” you teased. “That’s kind of the whole point, yeah? Make you think.”

He shook his head and leaned his forehead tentatively against your stomach. “A cruel punishment, but an understandable one. I truly am sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

Regulus sighed when your hand migrated to scratch through his hair. “I know, baby. I just wanted to hear you say it. And–” at this point he could hear the blush in your voice “– at some point it just became principle. Too late to back out.”

Laughing against the fabric of your shirt, he moved to rest his chin against you, gazing up at you at an angle that was slightly uncomfortable but definitely worth it. He let a small grin slip. “Stubborn minx,” he whispered.

“Oi!” you chided gently. “You’re in no position to levy such accusations, mister.”

“I can’t imagine loving you more,” he said through a sigh, not even thinking over the words. They were just right, and demanded to be brought up.

If the way your body melted against his was anything to go by, you didn’t mind.

A booming voice cut the moment short. “You two are painfully dramatic,” Sirius yelled from across the room, clearly having paid attention to the whole make-up conversation. “Please never fight again.”

“And that’s coming from Sirius Black,” Remus added solemnly, earning himself an indignant swat from his partner.

“He’s right,” Regulus whispered conspiratorially to you. “I cannot be the most dramatic Black brother, that would be blasphemy.”

“Then I suggest,” you said before giving him a light peck, “you be on your best behaviour from now on.

A grin. “Yes ma’am.”

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mingi-s-dimples · 1 day ago

Text

Under their control - sanhwa

KINKTOBER DAY 22, REQ. BY anon

~"Would love a mommy!hwa x female reader x daddy!San fic! Hwa's not female, he just has a maternal vibe/ aura. The reader lives with them and is their (human)pet. They like to dress the reader in cute lingerie and collar and leash. A fic where the reader is getting punished for something (you can decide what) and they keep denying her orgasm. Some size kink, double penetration, fake sympathy, pet names. Thank you!"

pairing: mommy soft dom!seonghwa x fem reader x daddy rough dom!san

genre: 18+, filth, mommy/daddy bdsm trope

summary: you get on San's nerves again... which has always proved to not be a good idea.

wc: 7.1k

warnings: harsh/rough dom!san, soft dom!seonghwa, daddy!san, mommy!seonghwa, denied orgasms, pussy eating, marking, making out, double penetration, collar and leash, slight size kink, fake sympathy, lots of cum in the end, a crumb of aftecare in the end, teasing, pet names (kitten, darling, sweetheart..), ass spanking, unprotected, completely consensual, blowjob, handjob, for sure forgot something.. will edit 'warnings' later.

Author's Note: I looveeed writing this one... you can tell by the number of words LMAO. I hope you like it anon.. I'm sorry it took me fucking ages (I'm sorry to everyone ajsnda). I hope y'all like it <3 i love youuu

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and does not represent in any way the reality of the members.

The sunlight filtered through the gauzy curtains of the shared bedroom, casting soft golden streaks across the plush duvet. The atmosphere was a mixture of warmth and tranquility, the faint scent of lavender lingering from the candle Seonghwa had lit the previous night. You stirred, shifting against the soft bedding, your cheek brushing the smooth pillowcase.

“Good morning, baby,” came Seonghwa’s voice, gentle and melodic, as he entered the room. His arms cradled a tray holding a cup of tea and a small plate with neatly arranged fruit slices. “It’s time to wake up.”

You blinked, squinting against the morning light, and smiled sleepily at the sight of him. He was always the first to greet you in the mornings, his nurturing presence like a soothing balm. He set the tray down on the nightstand, leaning in to press a feather-light kiss to your forehead.

“How did my little one sleep?” he asked, brushing stray strands of hair from your face.

“Good,” you murmured, your voice still groggy. You nuzzled into his touch, relishing the tenderness he always exuded.

“You have a busy day ahead,” he reminded, his lips curving into a small smile. “San wants you ready and downstairs in half an hour. You know how he feels about being late.”

San. Just the mention of him sent a small shiver down your spine—not entirely out of fear, but because of the way his presence filled every room he walked into. Where Seonghwa was soft and soothing, San was sharp, commanding. You felt the dichotomy of their dynamics every day, a constant interplay of comfort and authority.

“I’ll get up,” you promised, sitting up slowly and letting the blankets pool around your waist.

Seonghwa nodded, pleased with your obedience. “Good girl,” he said softly.

—

By the time you reached the kitchen, the smell of coffee had filled the space. San was already there, standing by the counter in a crisp black shirt that fit him a little too perfectly. He glanced up when you entered, his dark eyes immediately locking onto you.

“You’re late,” he said, his tone even but with that familiar edge of authority.

Your heart sank. You’d only taken a few extra minutes, but with San, those small delays were never overlooked.

“I—I didn’t mean to,” you stammered, casting a quick glance at Seonghwa, who had taken a seat by the table and was watching the interaction unfold with a faint smile.

San’s brow arched, and he stepped closer, his presence looming in a way that made your pulse quicken. “Didn’t mean to?” he repeated, his voice laced with mock sympathy. “Sweetheart, how many times have we talked about this?”

You fidgeted, your fingers twisting together. “A lot,” you admitted quietly.

“And yet here you are.” He reached out, lifting your chin with two fingers so that you had no choice but to meet his gaze. “What am I supposed to do with you, kitten? Hmm?”

You swallowed hard, the weight of his words settling heavily in your chest. “I’m sorry,” you offered weakly.

San’s lips curved into a smirk that was anything but kind. “Oh, darling. You’ll be sorry, alright?”

Seonghwa let out a soft chuckle from his seat, his voice lilting with amusement. “Be gentle, San. You know how sensitive she is.”

San shot him a look, but it was devoid of any real irritation. “Oh, I’ll be gentle,” he said, his attention returning to you. “At least at first.”

—

The mistake had been minor in the grand scheme of things, but San never let the small things slide. It was his way of keeping you in line, as he so often reminded you.

“Upstairs. Now,” he ordered, his voice firm.

You hesitated for a split second, but the sharpness in his eyes spurred you into motion. You turned and hurried up the stairs, your heart pounding in anticipation.

By the time you reached the bedroom, you could already hear his measured footsteps behind you. Seonghwa had stayed behind in the kitchen, but you knew he would come up eventually. He always liked to play the role of the sympathetic observer or maybe join in, offering soft words of comfort after San was done.

San closed the door behind him with a deliberate click, the sound sending a jolt of nervous energy through you.

“On the bed,” he instructed, his voice low.

You obeyed, climbing onto the bed and sitting back on your heels. Your collar—a delicate, silver chain adorned with a small charm—felt heavier around your neck under his intense gaze. You'd always wear it whenever you were at home for a couple of days, free of work.

“Do you know why you’re being punished?” he asked, crossing his arms as he stood at the foot of the bed.

“Yes,” you replied softly.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

His smirk widened, pleased by your submission. “That’s right, baby girl.”

He moved closer, his hand reaching out to trail a finger along the edge of your collar. “This little thing,” he murmured, his tone deceptively soft, “means you follow the rules. Doesn’t it?”

You nodded, your breath hitching as his finger traced down to the hollow of your throat.

“And what happens when you break the rules?” he pulls you by yourbneck

“I get punished,” you whispered.

“That’s my good girl,” he said, his voice dripping with false affection. “At least you remember that much.”

San’s hand moved down to your waist, his grip firm but not harsh. He turned you slightly, positioning you so that you were kneeling on the bed with your back to him. Before you could anticipate his next move, the sharp sound of his palm meeting your ass filled the room, making you gasp.

“Late again,” he said, his tone a mixture of mock exasperation and amusement. “You never learn, do you?”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“Sorry?” San repeated, his fingers tracing slow, lazy circles on the spot he’d just slapped. “Do you think that makes up for wasting my time, kitten?”

Your head hung low, shame and guilt swirling in your chest. “No, Daddy.”

“Hmm, no, it doesn’t,” he agreed, the false sympathy in his voice sending shivers down your spine. His other hand gripped your chin, tilting your face back toward him. “But I’ll humor you. Tell me why you think you deserve my forgiveness.”

The words caught in your throat, your eyes darting toward the door as if silently begging for intervention. As if on cue, the door opened, and Seonghwa stepped in, his presence a balm to the tension that had built in the room.

“San,” he said softly, his melodic voice breaking through the thick atmosphere. “Don’t you think you’re being a little harsh on her?”

San didn’t loosen his grip on you, but his lips twitched in a faint smirk. “A little harsh? Maybe. But I like to think it gets the point across.”

Seonghwa crossed the room, his movements slow and deliberate, like he was trying not to spook you. He came up behind you, his warm hands resting gently on your shoulders. “Our little one just needs guidance,” he murmured, leaning down so that his lips brushed the shell of your ear. “Not to be broken.”

The contrast between them was striking. Where San’s touch was firm and commanding, Seonghwa’s was a soothing, grounding you even as your nerves buzzed. His arms slid around your waist, pulling you back into his chest from San's grip and you felt a small measure of safety return.

San clicked his tongue, his amusement clear. “You spoil her too much, Hwa. That’s why she thinks she can get away with being late.”

Seonghwa chuckled, his voice vibrating against your back. “Or maybe you’re too quick to punish, San. Have you thought of that?”

San’s smirk widened, and he stepped closer, his hands slipping to your thighs, squeezing just enough to draw your attention back to him. “I think you’re too soft,” he teased, his gaze meeting Seonghwa’s over your shoulder. “But if you think you can handle her better, why don’t you join me?”

Your eyes widened, your breath hitching as Seonghwa’s grip around you tightened, his chest pressing more firmly against your back.

“Join you?” Seonghwa repeated, his tone deceptively light. “You mean to help her, not overwhelm her, right?”

San shrugged, his hands roaming up your sides with an air of nonchalance. “Depends on how much help she needs.”

Seonghwa’s lips brushed your temple as he whispered, “Do you trust me, little one?”

“Yes,” you breathed, your voice barely audible.

“Good,” he said, his hands now guiding yours to rest on your thighs, keeping you still. “Let’s remind you how much you’re cared for.”

San leaned in, his gaze softening just enough to show a flicker of affection beneath his teasing. His hand cupped your jaw, his thumb brushing your cheek. “You’re lucky we’re patient,” he said, though his smirk made it clear he wasn’t entirely serious.

San’s fingers found the hem of your oversized shirt, his grip impatient as he tugged it over your head. The motion was swift, almost rough, leaving you exposed to the cool air of the room. You gasped softly, instinctively moving to cover yourself, but San’s firm hand stopped you.

“Ah, ah,” he chided, his dark eyes glittering with authority. “Don’t you dare hide from me.”

You swallowed hard, your hands falling back to your sides as you trembled under his gaze. His fingers brushed against your skin, cold against the heat that seemed to radiate from you. With deliberate slowness, he reached behind you to unhook your bra, the straps slipping down your shoulders like a whisper.

Seonghwa, still behind you, caught the discarded garment and leaned down to pick up a delicate, semi-transparent lingerie set that had been neatly laid out on the dresser. His touch was in stark contrast to San’s—gentle, almost reverent, as he guided the soft fabric up your arms.

“This suits her,” Seonghwa said, his voice low and melodic, as he adjusted the straps on your shoulders with care. The material clung to your body in a way that felt both innocent and intimate, the faint pink hue of the lingerie complementing the flush spreading across your skin.

San stepped back slightly, his sharp gaze roaming over you, taking in every detail. A low chuckle escaped him as his eyes traveled downward. “Well, well,” he drawled, his voice laced with amusement, “looks like someone’s enjoying herself a little too much.”

Your face burned as you followed his gaze, horrified to see the evidence of your arousal dampening the linen beneath you.

“Tell me, kitten,” San teased, kneeling down so his face was level with yours, his smirk growing wider, “is this because of me?” He tilted his head, his voice a mocking coo. “Are you turned on by how rough I am with you?”

You bit your lip, your body betraying you as another wave of heat pooled in your belly. “Y-Yes,” you admitted, your voice small and shaky, tinged with a whiny neediness you couldn’t control.

“Of course you are,” San said, his laughter quiet but sharp, as though the answer had only confirmed what he already knew. He leaned in, brushing his lips against your ear as he murmured, “You like being my good little toy, don’t you?”

Before you could respond, Seonghwa’s warm lips pressed against the back of your neck, trailing down to your shoulders. His movements were slow, deliberate, like he was trying to soothe the trembling mess San had made of you.

“You’re beautiful,” Seonghwa whispered against your skin, his hands coming to rest gently on your waist. “You don’t have to be afraid, little one. I’ve got you.”

San stood, his presence still looming even as he moved away. The rustling of fabric drew your attention, and you peeked through lowered lashes to see him unbuttoning his shirt. His movements were unhurried, calculated, the sharp lines of his body coming into view with every undone button.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” San said, his tone laced with warning as he tossed the shirt aside. “I’m not done with you yet.”

But even as he spoke, Seonghwa’s soothing touch and soft murmurs anchored you, his lips never ceasing their gentle exploration of your back. The contrast between them—San’s rough edges and Seonghwa’s tender warmth—left you suspended in a whirlwind of sensations, utterly at their mercy.

San's intense gaze darkened as he stepped forward. In one fluid motion, he lifted you effortlessly, his strong arms wrapping around you as though you weighed nothing. A surprised gasp escaped your lips, but San gave you no time to process. He pressed you against the cool wall, the hard surface grounding you against the heat of his body.

Leaning in, he captured your mouth in a sloppy, possessive kiss, his lips demanding as they moved against yours. His teeth grazed your bottom lip, and his tongue claimed you with a roughness that made your head spin. You whimpered softly into the kiss, your hands clutching at his shoulders as if anchoring yourself to him. His muscular body made you feel to tiny and insignificant in front of him… which you absolutely loved.

Behind you, Seonghwa had risen from the bed. His dark eyes lingered on you, and there was no mistaking the tension in his posture—or the strain evident against the fabric of his pants.

San broke the kiss, his breath hot against your lips as he spoke. “You’re shaking, kitten,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing. “Is this what you wanted? To feel me like this?”

Before you could answer, he shifted his hold on you, lowering you slowly against him. The hard line of his arousal pressed into you, even through the layers of fabric separating you, drawing a soft, involuntary whine from your throat.

“Look at you,” he continued, his tone mocking but laced with something deeper. “You can’t even control yourself, can you?”

“I…” You tried to form words, but the sensation of him, combined with the lingering warmth of Seonghwa’s gaze, made coherent thought impossible.

As if sensing your overwhelmed state, Seonghwa stepped closer, his hands resting lightly on your arms before trailing down to your sides. His lips found the sensitive curve of your shoulder, pressing soft kisses there that sent shivers through your body.

San’s smirk widened as his hand began to wander, sliding down between your legs with deliberate slowness. The anticipation built with every second, your breath hitching as he teased you with light, fleeting touches.

“You’re so sensitive,” he observed, his tone equal parts amusement and pride. “Does this drive you crazy, kitten?”

You nodded weakly, your knees threatening to buckle under the combined assault of San’s rough, confident movements and Seonghwa’s tender, reassuring touch.

San’s fingers pressed inside your cunt more firmly now, the motion drawing soft, breathy sounds from you. “Of course, it does,” he said, his voice a low growl. “You love when I take control, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you managed to whisper, your voice trembling as the sensations began to overwhelm you.

San's smirk deepened as he leaned in, his lips latching onto the soft skin of your collarbone. He kissed with purpose, his mouth warm and insistent, leaving behind marks that you knew would bloom into faint bruises later. Each kiss was a deliberate claim, his teeth grazing your skin, tongue soothing over where he’d nipped.

You gasped, tilting your head instinctively to give him more access, but San wasn’t gentle—he didn’t need to be. His hands gripped your hips firmly, keeping you in place as his lips trailed upwards to the curve of your neck. Each mark he left ignited sparks that coursed through your body, a reminder of his overwhelming presence.

“Don’t squirm,” San muttered against your skin, his voice low and commanding. His teeth scraped lightly over the sensitive spot just below your ear, making you shudder.

In your haze, you barely registered the soft rustle of fabric as San’s hand moved lower. With calculated ease, he discarded the last barrier between his body and yours, the subtle shift in his stance making his actions unmistakable.

Seonghwa’s lips pressed softly to the top of your head, his voice like silk as he whispered, “Breathe, let him take care of you.”

But San’s idea of care was far from gentle. He straightened, his chest brushing against yours as he tilted your chin up to meet his gaze. His dark eyes burned with intensity, the smirk on his lips equal parts teasing and predatory.

“You’re mine,” he murmured, his tone rough but quiet, meant only for you. His hands tightened their grip on your hips, holding you securely against him.

San's hand traveled between your legs and as his fingers found their way to your folds, he pumped them in a couple of times, your head lolling back at the feeling. When he decided that you were prepped enough - which you weren't, but he was damn impatient - he lowered you on his cock, fully thrusting it in.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his voice low and dripping with mockery. “Barely holding yourself together, aren’t you, kitten?”

You whimpered softly, your lips parted as you tried to form words, but the overwhelming sensations left you mute.

“Come on,” San coaxed, his tone sharp yet teasing. “Use your words. What’s the matter? Too much for you already?”

“D-Daddy…” you managed to whisper, your voice trembling as you gazed up at him, your hands weakly clutching at his shoulders.

San let out a low chuckle, leaning back just enough to look you over, his smirk widening as he saw the dazed, almost helpless expression on your face. “Daddy, huh?” he repeated mockingly. “You think that’s going to make me go easy on you?”

Your breath hitched, and you shook your head weakly, earning another sharp laugh from him.

“That’s what I thought,” he said, his tone dripping with authority. He tilted your chin up with two fingers, forcing you to meet his gaze. “You like this, don’t you? Being so completely at my mercy?”

You nodded hesitantly, and his smirk grew even more wicked.

“Say it,” he demanded, his voice taking on a harder edge. “Tell me how much you love it when Daddy takes control.”

“I-I love it,” you stammered, your voice breaking under the weight of his dominance.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he cooed, his tone mockingly sweet as he brushed a stray strand of hair from your face. “You’re such a mess for me, aren’t you? Completely ruined, and we’re not even done yet.”

You whimpered again, your body trembling under his touch.

“Pathetic,” he said with a smirk, though there was a hint of pride in his voice. “Completely pathetic, and yet you’re still begging for more. Aren’t you?”

“Yes,” you breathed, your voice barely audible, but he heard it nonetheless.

San leaned in close, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “Good. Because I’m nowhere near finished with you, kitten.”

Seonghwa’s quiet observation eventually broke, his low, velvety voice cutting through the room. “What exactly do you have planned for her, San?” he asked, his tone calm and curious, though there was an underlying edge of amusement.

San didn’t stop, his movements as deliberate and sharp as his personality. His grip tightened on your hips as he responded, his voice coming out in low, ragged breaths between his thrusts. “Oh, I have plans,” he said, his smirk audible even without seeing his face.

Seonghwa raised a brow, stepping closer now, his own hand still lazily tracing over himself, watching you keenly. “Care to elaborate?”

San let out a soft chuckle, his breath ghosting against your ear as he answered, “I plan to ruin her.” His words were teasing, almost cruel in their intent. “She’s going to beg for me, for everything. More than she’s ever begged before.”

Your body trembled at his words, the promise in them sending a fresh wave of tension through you. San leaned down slightly, his lips brushing against your ear as he continued, his voice dropping lower. “And just when she thinks I’ll give her what she wants…” He paused, his grip on you tightening briefly for emphasis. “…I won’t.”

Seonghwa’s smirk grew, his gaze flicking between you and San with quiet interest. “Cruel, as always,”

San chuckled again, this time with more satisfaction, his rhythm unrelenting as he added, “She likes it. Don’t you, kitten?”

Your response was a breathless whimper, your head lolling against San’s shoulder as your body surrendered to the overwhelming mix of sensations.

“Let’s see how patient are you, my love… are you going to be more patient than I was?” San cooed, holding you close to him as he pulled out and dropped you in the bed powerfully, towering over you. “Let’s see if it was worth being late, darling.” he leaned in for a kiss, then raised your hips above his, letting them rest.

San’s gaze bore into yours, the stormy intensity in his eyes enough to make your breath hitch. He didn’t move right away, letting the tension stretch thin in the air between you, his hand firm on your hip as he held you in place. His lips, so close to yours, hovered without touching, teasing you with the ghost of a promise.

“You’ve been testing me all week, haven’t you?” San murmured, his voice a low growl that sent shivers racing down your spine.

He trailed his hand down, the roughness of his palm against your skin a stark contrast to the tenderness of his words. But just as you leaned into him, aching for more, San pulled back slightly, his smirk sharp and deliberate.

Seonghwa’s soft chuckle reached your ears, his tone laced with amused approval. “You’re relentless, San,” he remarked, though his attention never strayed far from you. There was an edge of curiosity to his voice, as if he was enjoying watching the dynamic unfold.

San glanced at Seonghwa briefly, his lips quirking in a sly grin before his focus returned to you. “Relentless,” he echoed, his tone filled with dark satisfaction. “But that’s what she likes, isn’t it?” His fingers tightened against your skin just enough to make your pulse quicken.

You barely managed a breathy response, your body trembling with anticipation. San tilted his head, his lips finally brushing yours in a kiss that was as fleeting as it was intoxicating.

“Patience, kitten,” he murmured against your lips, his voice low and commanding. “You’ll get what you want... but only when I decide you’ve earned it.”

San’s smirk deepened as he glanced at Seonghwa, his sharp gaze glinting with mischief. “Why don’t you join us?” he murmured, his voice dripping with invitation and challenge.

Seonghwa hesitated for only a moment, his piercing eyes locking with San’s before sliding down to meet yours. There was something almost reverent in his expression as he moved closer, his hand brushing over your arm to guide you gently yet firmly.

“Lean back,” Seonghwa instructed softly, his voice a rich contrast to San’s rough edges. His hands guided you until you were resting against him, his firm chest a solid support behind you. His thighs framed yours, his presence grounding you even as your heart raced.

San hummed approvingly, his smirk never faltering as he knelt between your legs, his gaze intense as it roamed over you. “Perfect,” he muttered, his hands tracing up your thighs with deliberate slowness, his touch a stark contrast to Seonghwa’s steady, grounding hold.

Seonghwa’s fingers brushed over your shoulders, his breath warm against your temple as he murmured, “Relax, love.” The soothing timbre of his voice made it impossible not to sink into him, even as San’s movements sent sparks racing through you.

San’s lips found your thighs, his kisses starting feather-light before growing more deliberate. His chin grazed your skin as he nipped at the sensitive flesh, each touch both a tease and a promise. He looked up at you, his dark eyes meeting yours as he whispered, “I’ll make sure you don’t forget this.”

Your breath hitched as Seonghwa’s hands slid down your arms, his grip firm yet reassuring. “Breathe,” he murmured, his voice steady, as though coaxing you to surrender completely to the moment.

San’s lips moved closer to your cunt, but he paused just before reaching where you wanted him most, his smirk widening at your involuntary whimper. “Not so fast, kitten,” he teased, his voice a rough purr. “I’m just getting started.”

When his mouth finally started to suck on your clit, a sharp gasp escaped you, your back arching instinctively against Seonghwa’s chest. San didn’t hold back, his lips moving with deliberate, hungry intent as he ate you out, sending shockwaves through your entire body.

His roughness was intoxicating, every motion designed to pull you deeper into the haze he was creating. He groaned softly against you, the vibration adding an unexpected layer of pleasure that made you tremble.

Seonghwa’s breath hitched behind you, his hard cock, undeniable where you were pressed against him. His hands gripped your hips, steadying you as you writhed under San’s relentless attention. “You’re driving her mad,” Seonghwa murmured, his voice thick with something between awe and desire.

San pulled back just enough to respond, his lips glistening as he looked up at you with a wicked grin. “That’s the point,” he said, his voice rough with satisfaction. Without waiting for a reply, he delved back in, his tongue pressing against you with a roughness that had your fingers clawing at Seonghwa’s thighs for purchase.

Every flick, every deliberate drag of San’s tongue against your clit, sent you spiraling further. He alternated between sucking on it and licking with a ferocity that made it impossible to hold still. Seonghwa’s grip tightened on you as if anchoring you to reality, his lips brushing your temple in an attempt to soothe the chaos San was stirring within you.

“You’re so responsive,” San rasped against you between movements, his tone full of pride and teasing affection. “Just look at you… falling apart already.”

You could barely process his words, the sensations too overwhelming, too consuming. The heat of Seonghwa’s body behind you and the rough, unrelenting intensity of San in front of you created a heady mix that left you utterly at their mercy.

San abruptly pulled back, his lips glistening, leaving you teetering on the edge of your orgasm. The sudden absence of his touch was a shock, and you whimpered, your hips instinctively tilting forward to chase the sensation. His smirk was devastatingly smug as he leaned back on his knees, wiping the corner of his mouth with a thumb.

“Not yet, kitten,” he drawled, his voice thick with command. “I told you, you don’t get to have it until I decide you’ve earned it.” His gaze flickered up to yours, dark and unyielding.

You shook your head, defiance flickering through the haze of desire. “N-no,” you murmured, a stubborn edge creeping into your voice, even as your body trembled with need.

San chuckled darkly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. “No?” he repeated, his tone mocking, his grin widening as though you’d just issued him a delightful challenge. “How adorable. You think you’re in control here?”

He reached out, his hand gripping your chin firmly, tilting your face toward him as he loomed closer. “Say it again,” he commanded softly, his tone laced with dangerous amusement.

Before you could respond, San turned to Seonghwa, his voice shifting to a calm authority. “Seonghwa, get undressed and take her.”

Seonghwa nodded without hesitation, his movements smooth and fluid as he stripped off his shirt and then his pants. Unlike San’s intensity, there was a softness to him, a gentler energy that eased the tension coursing through you.

“Come here,” Seonghwa murmured, his hands reaching for you as he effortlessly lifted you onto his lap. His touch was steady, his hands warm and soothing against your skin. Seated against him, his bare chest pressing into your back, the stark contrast between his tenderness and San’s roughness was grounding.

San sat back on his heels, watching with a smirk that told you he wasn’t done playing with you yet. “Let’s see if she behaves better for you,” he teased, his tone dripping with dominance as his eyes stayed locked on yours. “But don’t go too soft, Hwa. She needs to learn what happens when she tries to defy me.”

Seonghwa shifted beneath you, his hands steady on your hips as he aligned himself with your hole. His lips brushed against your shoulder, soft and reassuring, a stark contrast to the tension crackling in the air. “Relax for me, love,” he murmured, his voice calm yet filled with anticipation.

San, seated to the side, leaned back slightly, his hand lazily stroking himself, cock dripping with precum as his sharp eyes stayed glued to the scene in front of him. “That’s it, Hwa,” he purred.“Show her how gentle can still make her squirm.”

Seonghwa’s movements were slow, deliberate, as though savoring every second of the moment. You shuddered at the sensation, your body caught between his tenderness and San’s burning gaze. San’s breath hitched audibly, a low groan escaping him as he watched, the sight clearly fueling his own pleasure.

“You look so pretty like this,” San teased, his voice dripping with dominance. “Caught between us… exactly where you’re meant to be.”

Seonghwa’s pace grew more measured, his lips grazing your ear as he whispered, “You’re doing so well.” His fingers pressed into your hips, grounding you, his every movement pulling you closer to the edge. Your body trembled, anticipation building as you surrendered to the steady rhythm he set.

Just as the high began to crest, San’s voice cut through the haze. “Stop.”

The word was sharp, commanding, and immediate. Seonghwa stilled instantly, his hands retreating as he pulled out, leaving you gasping and teetering on the brink.

“No, please,” you begged, turning your desperate gaze to San. “Don’t stop now. Let me—please, I need to—”

San leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with amusement as he brushed his fingers along your cheek. “Need to?” he mused, his tone deceptively soft. “That’s rich, coming from someone who spent all week defying me. Do you think you’ve earned the right to finish?”

You shook your head, swallowing the lump of frustration and desire in your throat. “I’ll do better, I swear.”

San smirked, his hand tangling in your hair as he guided you to kneel on the edge of the bed. “You’ll prove that now,” he said smoothly, his thumb grazing your lower lip. “Open up.”

You obeyed, lips parting as he slid himself past them, his cock heavy on your tongue. San’s groan was low, a sound of satisfaction as his hand held you steady. “Good girl,” he murmured, his hips rolling forward just enough to test your limits.

Behind you, the bed shifted as Seonghwa moved into position, his hands caressing your waist before sliding lower, his warmth against you unmistakable. “Seonghwa… fuck her” San instructed, his voice deepening. “I want her to feel you stretch her out while she sucks me off”

Seonghwa hummed in acknowledgment, his lips brushing the nape of your neck as he moved against you, his presence filling the space San had left.

San tilted your chin up slightly, his movements patient but firm. “Keep your eyes on me,” he said, his voice a gentle command. “I want to see how much you enjoy this. How much you’re willing to give.”

Your muffled whine vibrated against San’s cock as you tried to keep your focus, but the overwhelming combination of sensations was too much to bear.

San smirked, clearly noticing your struggle, and his grip in your hair tightened slightly, tilting your head for better leverage. “You’re distracted,” he growled. “Let me help you focus.”

Without warning, San thrust his hips forward, sliding himself deeper into your throat. The sudden intrusion made you gag, your throat tightening reflexively around him as your hands gripped his thighs for stability. San groaned low and deep, the sound vibrating through the room.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “Taking me so well, even when you’re choking on it. Maybe you’re learning after all.”

Behind you, Seonghwa’s hands on your hips tightened, his movements stuttering as he felt your body react to San’s forcefulness. Your whimper against San’s cock sent a shiver through Seonghwa, but he stilled himself, obeying the unspoken command to pause until San decided you’d earned more.

Your throat burned as San held himself deep, his hand flexing against the back of your head, keeping you exactly where he wanted. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you didn’t dare pull away. His dominance was intoxicating, even in its intensity.

When San finally relented, pulling back just enough to let you gasp for air, his thumb stroked your cheek. “Not bad,” he mused, tilting his head. “But you’re not there yet.”

Seonghwa’s soft whisper reached your ear, grounding you as your chest heaved. “You’re doing so well,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your shoulder.

San’s sharp gaze flicked to Seonghwa, and he gave a single, measured nod. “Now.”

Seonghwa didn’t need further instruction. He resumed his movements, his hips rolling forward in a rhythm that made your toes curl. His groan was soft, almost reverent, as he leaned closer, his chest pressed against your back.

San’s grip in your hair loosened slightly, guiding you back to him. “You’re going to make up for every moment you disobeyed this week,” he said, his voice low and commanding. “And if you’re good enough, maybe—just maybe—I’ll let you finish this time.”

“M-ngh, San!” your moan revrebrating through his cock. You steadied yourself and held onto his hips, catching your breath as Seonghwa started to fully thrust into you again.

“What?” he stopped for a second.

You pulled off San, tears streaming down your cheeks, voice trembling and high-pitched, “Please, San, please! I can’t—please don’t stop again—I need it so bad, I’m begging you!”

San, gripping your jaw firmly, forcing you to look up at him, his eyes sharp and unyielding, “You’re begging now? After everything this week? After all the times you ignored me, pushed me, defied me?” he lets out a low, mocking laugh, “And now you think whining like this will get you what you want?”

“I’ll do anything—anything! I swear! Just don’t stop again, please, please!” you begged abd begged, looking up at him in the eyes.

He brushed his thumb over your trembling lips, “Anything, huh? You’re pathetic, you know that? Look at you—crying, shaking, acting like you have no control. But fine. You want a chance? Let’s make a deal.”

“Yes—yes! Anything..."

“Then.. you’ve got two minutes to make me finish. Two minutes. If you can do that, maybe, just maybe, I’ll let you finish, too. But if you fail? You’ll go the rest of the night without cumming. Do you understand me?”

"Y-yes...yes!" you whined out.

“Good. Then stop wasting time and prove to me you’re worth it.” San then grabbed you by your hair, tangling his head and pulling you harshly to his cock.

You position yourself between San’s legs, wasting no time as your hand wraps firmly around his base. Without hesitation, you take his cock into your mouth, deep and fast, like it’s the only thing you’ve ever needed. The warmth and wetness make him groan immediately, his head tilting back as he struggles to keep up with the sheer intensity of your actions.

Your lips tighten around him, sliding down as far as you can go, your tongue pressing firmly against the underside, hitting the sensitive spots that makes his thighs tense. You don’t hold back.. your movements are fast, relentless, and filled with purpose. Your hand follows where your mouth leaves off, stroking him with a slick, twisting motion, matching the rhythm as your head bobs in a steady, fervent pace.

You hollow your cheeks, creating a tight suction that pulls another deep groan from him, his hands gripping your hair as his control slips. The sounds you make are shamelessly messy—wet, eager, and desperate—as you take him in deeper with every motion, your throat flexing to handle more.

His breathing is ragged now, his hips shifting, but you keep control, doubling down as you focus on the sensitive head, swirling your tongue around it in quick, firm strokes before sliding down again, taking him to the base, choking on the tip. You whine softly, the vibrations sending a jolt through him, his voice breaking as he whines out, his body tightening.

“Ah, fuck… “ he moaned out, his back lolling back in pleasure.

Let's not forget that Seonghwa was fucking you relentlessly from behind, your walls clenching onto him as he gripped your waist. He was close, you knew it. Breaths ragged near your ear and his hands were holding tight on your skin, but you needed to focus on San… Seonghwa would cum by himself only by fucking you. But San.. oh god, he'd always destroy you before his pleasure.

“Just like that, kitten..” he said and gripped his hands better in your hair, pulling you as close as possible. Your nose hit his pelvis, throat sore and gagging on his cock. He stood like that for a couple of moments and thrusted slightly even deeper, to which he came right down your throat. You choked on his huge load and pulled back, his cock resting in your tongue as silky white cum was still dripping heavily from the tip. When he was done, he pulled back and lifted your chin, to make you look at him.

“Swallow. Everything.” you did as told and then as he hummed in satisfaction.

“Now now… Seonghwa, would you mind switching places? Your thrusts are not roug enough, I'm afraid…” San said and lifted you up. In one swift motion he sat you onto his lap, your chest against his.

Seonghwa’s hands slid down your back as he stepped behind you, his movements deliberate and steady. His grip settled firmly on your hips, fingers splaying over your flushed skin before drifting lower to your ass. He kneaded the soft flesh with a firm but gentle touch, his lips grazing the back of your neck in contrast to San’s unrelenting dominance.

San, already seated with you straddling his lap, tightened his hold on your waist. His fingers pressed into the soft, reddened skin, a mark of his earlier fervor. His eyes burned into yours as he shifted slightly, his voice low and commanding. “Don’t forget who you’re really here for,” he growled, his tone sending shivers down your spine.

With a single, precise motion, San thrust into you fully, his body melding with yours as a broken cry escaped your lips. Seonghwa, aligning himself carefully, followed suit, his movements smoother but no less intense. The contrast between them was electrifying—San’s rough, possessive thrusts pairing with Seonghwa’s controlled rhythm to drive you higher, the two of them moving in tandem as if sharing one unspoken goal.

San tilted your chin up with one hand, his lips brushing against yours briefly before he spoke. “You’re doing so well, kitten,” he murmured, though his words carried a teasing edge. “But you’re not done yet.”

Seonghwa groaned behind you, his fingers digging into your skin as his thrusts became sharper, his restraint slipping. The three of you moved in perfect synchronicity, the overwhelming sensations building rapidly until you could no longer hold back. Your cries filled the room as the tension snapped, your body trembling violently as the release overtook you.

Seonghwa followed closely, his grip tightening as he buried himself fully, his soft groan of pleasure vibrating against your shoulder. He kissed the back of your neck tenderly, his breath warm against your skin, a grounding contrast to the whirlwind you were caught in.

But San wasn’t finished. His grip on your waist grew firmer as he quickened his pace, chasing his own high even as your overstimulated body quivered against him. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as he pushed you further, your senses overwhelmed.

“That’s it,” he growled, his voice rough with satisfaction as his movements became erratic. “Give me everything.”

With one final, deep thrust, San found his release, his second high hitting him harder than the first. The intensity of the moment pushed you over the edge again, a sudden, powerful wave washing over you as your body reacted uncontrollably. You gasped as the sensation hit, your body trembling as you squirted, the overstimulation wringing every last drop of energy from you.

San held you close, his hands firm but steady as he rode out his high, his breath ragged against your neck. “Perfect,” he murmured finally, his tone softening as he kissed your temple.

As Seonghwa finally pulled out, a soft groan leaving his lips, he shifted to gather you into his arms. His movements were gentle, cradling you as though you were made of glass, his lips pressing against your temple with quiet affection. “You did so well,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing.

San leaned forward, his hand stroking down your back in deliberate, slow motions. A light pat followed, though it carried a teasing edge as he smirked. “Let this be a lesson, kitten,” he said, his tone playful yet firm. “If you ever decide to test me like that again… this is exactly what will happen. Only next time, I won’t go so easy on you.”

You gave a soft whimper of acknowledgment, too exhausted to do much else, and Seonghwa chuckled behind you. “You’re relentless, San,” he said, though his words carried a fond amusement. His gaze flicked between you and San. “She needs some care now, not another lecture. Why don’t you take her to get cleaned up?”

San hummed, his grin softening just a fraction as he leaned in to press a kiss against your damp hair. “Fair enough,” he replied before slipping his arms around you, seamlessly lifting you from Seonghwa’s hold and pulling you against his chest. His grip was firm yet comforting, holding you close as he stood.

“You were perfect today, kitten,” San murmured, his tone uncharacteristically tender as he carried you toward the bathroom. His fingers traced gentle patterns against your back as he continued, “Every second of it. You have no idea how proud I am of you.”

The warmth of his words and his embrace cocooned you, easing the lingering tension in your body. As San carried you, you caught Seonghwa’s soft smile in the corner of your vision, his quiet presence a steady reassurance even as exhaustion began to pull you under.

NETWORKS: @blossomnet @illusionnet

PERMANENT TAGLIST: @mingleshine @musiclovingfairy @crazylittlebisexual @sanhwalvr @arki-sha @artistic-rendition @hongjoongtime117 @cypher-03 @peachy-bell26 @atiny1

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icarusredwings · 3 days ago

Text

A date with Death.

Slightly nsfw.

The moon is out. The only thing about this specific moon is that it's a full moon. The Blood moon to be specific.

They came every march. And every march you could count on Wade Wilson to be busy that night.

Currently, he was sitting at the top of a sky scraper, kicking his feet over the edge with earbuds in.

Next to him was a sweet little spread, an expensive wine, two glasses, a couple of sodas, a bag of burger and fries, and a box with a small heart-shaped cake inside it, strawberries lining the top.

In his hands was a large bouquet of dark colored roses, burgandy, black, and reds (of course). He knew the moment he gave them to their recipient, they would die instantly, but he knew so would he. And he was okay with that.

Starting to hum, he pulled up the sleeve of his jacket, glancing at his hello kitty watch. 5 til 3.

Any moment now, he thought, glancing at the things next to him, moving the glasses over to be closer to the cake, wanting it to look perfect.

Look, if anything, he was a lover. A lover who just happened to love fighting and love kiling. But that didn't make him any less of a hopeless romantic, especially for dark harked ladies that thought he was funny.

Sure, Wade had a lot of lovers. Never being able to pin himself to just one. He spent more time with some than others, but it didn't mean he loved them any less. Even if it was only a couple of minutes a week or, in this case, an hour a year. A singular, annual date.

No, it wasn't merely enough for him, not enough for her either, but he enjoyed their little time together. How she held him and replied to his quips with further jokes that turned him into a puppy, head over heels.

It's not his fault his heart was so big. Honestly. But he knew that even if everyone left him, she would still come each March to see him.

"Welp.." He whispers, wrapping up his Ipod, laying it neatly next to the sodas as he stood up.

Turning on the heel of his good shoes (cheap half off dressage from the thrift, slightly tight, but perfect for dancing) he held the roses near his chest, like a corpse he leaned back, letting himslef fall.

This had to be one of his favorite parts. The cool wind on his back, the freshly ironed jeans and button-up flapping in the wind, the soft sherpa lined denim feeling like laying in a bed of sheep.

"Oh my darling.. Must you always take a swan dive off a 50 story building?"

He smiles, opening his eyes to see that he was back up on that roof, the dark robbed woman rubbing her hand on his arm.

"How else am I supposed to get your attention, sugar?"

She giggles, glancing over the side with an inquisitive hum. "Hhm.. always such a lovely color of red for me."

"Of course. Anything for my boney muffin." He takes her hand, kissing it softly.

"Wade Wilson, you flirt."

"My middle name. How was your trip, pumpkin?"

"Mmh... decent. Such a tease you are. You know that?"

"Obviously. Oh! These are for you. Put them on my grave when I finally get one, willya?" He coes.

She accepts the flowers, barley getting a hold on them before they wilted, drying up. Dying.

"They're beautiful.. but.. erm.. Who's that?" She questions, glancing behind them to a dark figure practically clinging to the roof top exist door.

"Oh, that's just Wolvie. He's fine, got him a number 5 meal and a soda. He's scared of heights." Wade grins, giving him a lazy wave but Logan didn't take his claws out of the metal door to wave back, the other hand holding a burger but he did tip his head. "Ma'am."

"Yeah, he should be at the end of your book somewhere. Slipepry one. Just like me."

"Mmh.. Logan Howlett...Wait I thought I've already taken him?"

"You did! He's a different one. The best one." He smiles towards the man, putting his head agisnt her shoulder.

"The man with many names.... Yes, he should be."

"Huh?"

"He should be scared of heights. I've been trying to catch him since the early 1900s. Slippery indeed...Finally caught him a few years back." She doesn't bat another.. well... dosn't move her skull away from him.

Becoming a bit nervous, Wade intertwined their hands. "Y-yeah he uh... he was curious. So.. you dont have to worry about him, though. Oh! Look! The ambulance finally showed up. Sheesh, tough break, fellas. You're too late!" He shouts at them.

"I see.." she turns back to Wade, grinning. "Don't worry.. I won't take him from you just yet.. he IS the one you were talking about last time, Yes?"

Now, Wade wasn't blind. Death was a jealous woman. Possesive of what was hers. Though Wade wasn't hers. Not quite yet. Not for.. awhile.

It's why she was so intrigued with him. So infatuated. She's never met a human that has wanted to die so much in all these centuries. So badly wishing he could crawl into her arms and let her pet his head for thousands of years as eternity went by.

He nods, blushing a bit. "Y-yeah.."

"Mmh.. quite a looker is he not?"

"Oh he so is. And he acts all tough but really hes a bit softy."

"I bet he's not soft everywhere-" She says, cassually, making Wade cough out a chuckle.

"Oh- my- god! My lady's a freak!" He laughs, still kicking his feet some as he grunts. "Not wrong tho.."

"I bet not." He watches as she looks over the small moonlight picnic he laid out for them. "Wade.. what is all this?"

"It's for our date! I made a cake and everything- well actually Wolvie helped me make it but I cut up the strawberries!"

"You did? Aww, you must be tired from such hard work. But my love..you know I can't eat." She says, frowning, not wanting to rain on his small parade.

"Oh I thought about that already. So I can eat it and then you can taste it. Fun right?"

Her black heart swells, running her hand up to behind his ear, holding his jaw. "You're too sweet."

Wade closes his eyes, leaning into hold, her thumb running over his cheek.

"Hopefully, his icing is as sweet as the cake." She whispers as he gasps, genuienly becoming giggling. "Sttaapph! You're so bad!"

"The baddest?"

Somehow, Wade knew she was giving him those eyes. The kind that suggested something.

"Oooh, the baddest. You know it, babe. Good thing I love me a bad bitch huh? Actually, It's a good thing you like funny losers. Guess in the lucky one."

"Wade.." She says, "you're not that funny."

"Ouch!!" He exclaims, hand drimatically going over his heart, shifting to fall into her lap. "You've wounded me!!" He whined, sticking out his tongue, pretending to be dead.

She laughs through her nose, holding his head in her thighs, petting over his head as she grabs his hand, rubbing over his bumpy skin.

"You're pretty hot tho.." she mutters, bringing the hand to her breast with a teasing smile.

Opening his eyes, he looks up to her with a big shit eating grin. "Oh, you flatter me! And apology accepted." Sitting up he brings the hand to her neck, starting to kiss up her jaw, little pecks.

"You really mean that? Me being pretty hot? And which is it? Am I pretty or am I hot? Cause I think you're gorgeous-"

"Wade."

"I mean, truly, deeply the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. And I don't just mean your killer rack either-"

"Wade."

"Did you do your hair for me? Goddess, forgive me for saying this, but damn, How are you so fine? Half of you is literally bone and Id still fuck ya until your hip needs replaced, What do you think? Right here on the roof? Hm?"

Pushing the food over, he starts to run his fingers down her side, getting to the point where her waist used to be. "Fuck, babe how are you so tiny down here? You know what, We'll fix that. Lemme pump a baby in ya-"

"Wade!" This time, It came from about 30 feet away, behind them.

"Wha!?"

"Let her speak! Damn!"

"oh..." Honestly, he had forgotten entirely that Logan was even here. He was so quiet..

"I tried to warn you, darling.."

"Well, I'm not sorry! He knew what he was getting into when he came here.. I can't believe I even let him come.. cockblocked on my own date.." he mutters, obviously frustrated as he agressivly popped open the wine bottle, starting to pour.

Seeing how upset he got only made her smile, pulling his waist closer, her hand dipping to 'accidently' brush up against him.

"Why would I thought that was a good-" for a second he stopped talking, leaning his head back into her boobs with a big smirk. "Oh but IM the tease?"

"Shh. Your cock dosn't seem very blocked to me."

A small squeal came from him as he handed a glass to her after swirling it a couple of times.

"A nosotros mi carino." He says, rolling his r all fancy like, leaning on her still with such comfortably.

The smiles, smirking lovingly. "A la esperanza de que te rompas el cuello mi amor~" She coes back, raising her glass to his until it made a CLNK noise, dumping it into her mouth.

Wade does the same, chugging the glass only to sit up, crawling to the edge as he coughs, spitting it out. "Oh, that's HORRIBLE! Jesus! White woman drink that shit? Why? I mean- I get it- after having to watch 5 hours of a pathetic excuse for a soccor game, I'd drink that too."

Death giggles, watching Wade refill their glasses.

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goodlucktai · 2 days ago

Text

raised on little light (2/3)

rise of the tmnt word count: 4k pairing: mikey & oc big thank you to @soldrawss for the art included in this chapter and to @mykimouser for making me insane about neutral!michelangelo at all hours of the day title borrowed from northern attitude by noah kahan read on ao3

2031

Mikey is looking for his little brother. It seems like he spends half his life doing that these days.

The TV is on in Splinter’s room, door ajar but equally as unapproachable as the door to Donnie’s lab, which is shut tight, as usual. Raph’s door is standing open, but his room is empty, because he leaves early for work on the weekdays.

Mikey maneuvers past the closed doors and empty rooms like a professional. He doesn’t even have to think too hard about it anymore.

Rounding the corner to the dining room, Mikey’s stride slows and relief punches an exhale out of him. He doesn’t realize how tense he is until he deflates like a balloon.

Gio is asleep at the table, face half-buried in his folded arms, crossbow and maintenance supplies spread out in front of him. It’s disappointing, but not surprising. He rarely stays in his own room, as if he’s afraid of taking up space that isn’t really his. As if they’re going to change their mind and tell him they do still need it for storage, actually, and he wants to be ready when they do. Mikey’s pretty sure he never fully unpacked his bag.

Sometimes he leaves the lair entirely, and since he’s the most unreliable texter Mikey knows, and has never met a phone call he would answer without a gun held to his head, he might as well fall completely off the grid each time he’s gone. Mikey stays up on those nights, keeping busy in the kitchen, worrying worrying worrying.

He feels too much like Raph when he doesn’t know where the kid is. He understands intimately how overbearing big brothers could be, remembers how a tiny rift had formed between him and Raph when they were young because of it—childish and inconsequential in the grand scheme of things to come, but devastating at the time.

So he tries to channel Leo instead, who had always trusted Mikey to know when to ask for help if he needed it. Tries to make sure Gio never feels like he can’t come home again, with a smile ready for him as soon as he slips silently back through the door.

But last night Gio must have stayed in. There’s a blanket draped over him that Mikey didn’t put there, and Splinter almost certainly hadn’t left his room to put there, which leaves two possible culprits. Raph and Donnie don’t know how to make gestures that Gio can see for what they are, hardly know how to be in the same room as the kid without seeing a ghost superimposed where he’s standing. It leaves a lot of the emotional heavy-lifting on Mikey’s shoulders, but it’s fine. A brother could never be a burden to him.

Mikey can’t give Gio everything he deserves to have, everything that should have been his from the very beginning, but he can give him some things.

And we’ll start, Mikey thinks with the kind of absurd resilience that wouldn’t have been out of place at the actual end of the world, with breakfast.

Gio wasn’t trained in ninja like the rest of them were but his senses are as sharp as any other turtle genetically modified for war. Mikey woke him up with a touch once and the fear response only lasted a handful of seconds but it was enough that Mikey made the executive decision that no one would ever do that again, or else.

Mikey pulls a chair out beside the smaller turtle and sinks into it soundlessly. He traces the newly-familiar white spots on that smoky gray-green face with his eyes, counting and recounting them, even though he knows how many there are. Everything about Gio is at once brand-new and well-loved to him.

After a moment, the only other sound the ancient Snoopy clock counting seconds in the kitchen, Mikey starts to hum. Three little birds sat on my window…

He can’t help remembering another morning just like this one, what feels like a lifetime ago. Mikey, all of thirteen, had insisted on being woken up to make breakfast so he could try a new crumble muffin recipe, but he’d stayed up too late the night before and sleep clung stubbornly to him despite the row of alarms he’d set. Their resident insomniac had been the only one awake, by virtue of not having gone to bed in the first place, and he’d parked himself in the beanbag under Mikey’s hammock and hummed the same song over and over until Mikey woke up. He had it stuck in his head for the rest of the day. They sang “GIRL PUT YOUR RECORDS ON” in the kitchen at the top of their lungs until Donnie sent the group chat a PDF of a noise complaint form, completely filled out.

Mikey hadn’t realized he was taking any of it for granted back then. He would do anything— anything—to wake up that way again. Just one more time.

Beside him, Gio stirs. Once he’s awake he’s alert fast, those big dark eyes sliding open and staying that way, head coming up off the pillow of his arms. He has that look on his face that Mikey would be tempted to call earnest on anyone else.

“Rise and shine, Clementine,” Mikey says brightly, reaching over to rub the back of his fingers against a spotted cheek affectionately. “I was craving breakfast empanadas today and was hoping my best sous chef would be willing to help me out.” Then, deliberately light-hearted, he adds, “Little turtles who skip dinner have to eat extra breakfast, you know. That’s house rule number one.”

Gio blinks at him, his face giving nothing away to the casual observer.

“I thought house rule number one was ‘always get it in writing’.”

Mikey’s smile widens, surprised and pleased every time he plays along.

“That’s number three, actually. Right behind ‘don’t do anything you wouldn’t want recorded and replayed at family functions.’ If you want, I can tell you exactly why that one’s a rule, and why it’s entirely Donnie’s fault.”

Gio does that thing where he assesses Mikey’s expression and tone as though he’s looking for the trap. Mikey weathers it, makes sure his smile doesn’t slip an inch.

Donatello is more of an urban legend to Gio than his actual living brother. After a few hesitant attempts to approach the older turtle that had been shut down completely each time, Gio made the informed decision that that road was closed permanently.

Sometimes Mikey will tell a story, or April, on one of her increasingly sporadic visits to the lair, will lean over and show him a video on her phone, and Gio will listen or watch like he has no idea who the guy they’re talking about could possibly be.

They do their best, but there’s no way to really introduce the Donnie that they know to Gio, because that Donnie only still exists in their stories and videos. The Donatello who was silly, who loved music and theater, who burst into the living room with some new invention or gadget to boast about, had been replaced by one who rarely spoke, who didn’t even have Spotify on his phone anymore since it took up too much space, who kept the lair running only because it was where his family lived but not because he had any lasting attachment to the place, and he certainly didn’t make any unnecessary tech just for fun.

I know you’re still in there, Mikey thinks sometimes.

He’ll bring Donnie lunch and leave it on the table in the lab, and then hold out his arms. Sometimes, Donnie won’t look at him. Sometimes, Donnie will put his tools down and let his little brother crowd in for a hug. He’ll tuck Mikey under his chin and hold him tight, like they were children again and nothing was wrong that couldn’t be made right.

Thank you for staying, Mikey will think, clinging for every second he’s allowed to. I know it’s hard. It’s the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do.

The grief is always encroaching, like floodwaters. Rising slow and steady, swallowing up cars and street signs and single level houses, changing the landscape of his hometown until it’s an unfamiliar place. No end in sight. No sign of land.

Someone send us a boat, Mikey wants to cry hysterically. But he knows how stupid that is.

He is the boat.

—

When he met Giorgio for the first time, Mikey was twenty-five and Leo had been dead for ten years.

“Sorry,” Mikey said. His fingers felt numb around the phone. “Could you say that again?”

“A turtle,” Hueso had replied shortly. “I would not have called, but he has familiar eyes. He is not aware of any family in the area. Would you like me to ask him to wait for you?”

Mikey hadn’t tried his portals again since the last disastrous time—since Raph had made him promise to stop—so he knew it couldn’t be Leo. He knew it. Hueso would be able to pick his sobrino out of a million turtles and would have led the call with that. And Leo wouldn’t have stopped for pizza before running back to them, he wouldn’t have stopped for anything. Leo would have been the one to let them know Leo was home.

Still, there was a tiny warbling hope in the bottom of his heart that wailed “maybe, maybe, maybe.” Still, it hurt to feel that hope shrivel up and die when Mikey slammed into the private dining room and found Hueso talking to an unfamiliar mutant with white spots and a black shell and—it was undeniable—Hamato Yoshi’s eyes.

The turtle was small, dressed in dark grays and greens, a strap across his chest that made it clear he was armed by something resting out of sight on his back. He stood with his arms crossed, in a manner that was probably supposed to read as stubborn or defiant, but Mikey clocked instantly as nervous.

This kid didn’t know what he was doing here or who the hell Mikey was and he looked about as comfortable with all the attention as Donnie would have been at that age.

Mikey felt himself soften, some distant part of his heart sitting in disuse and disrepair lurching to life again. Ancestral magic that he had largely turned his back on suddenly stirred, ninpo reaching out fragile feelers toward the person in the room that it recognized as immediately as if it was looking at its own self in a mirror.

“This is one of my creations,” Draxum announced, confirming what Mikey’s heart had already decided. “It must have survived after all.”

“Elaborate,” Mikey said, in a tone that didn’t match the gentle smile he had for the spotted turtle.

“How old are you?” the alchemist had asked instead, which seemed an odd first question to have and didn’t explain literally anything.

“Eighteen,” the spotted turtle replied. Mikey’s brow made a bid for his hairline. He would have been less surprised if the kid had said fifteen. Was he that scrawny as an eighteen year old?

“You hatched at about the same time as the red one,” Draxum said dispassionately, “so you should have been about his age, and he is twenty-seven. And how did you come to be here?”

Gio’s eyes slid away from him, over to Mikey. Mikey didn’t know what his face was doing. He hoped it was encouraging.

“I went through a yellow door,” Gio said. “And I ended up here.”

“By yellow door, I’m assuming you mean a rift in space-time,” Draxum said. “What possessed you to walk into it?”

“Felt safe,” Gio said, and that was the last thing he said about it, expression closing up in a way Mikey was intimately familiar with as I’m done talking and liable to bite if provoked. But Draxum was a lot of things, genius among them, and seemed to already have an idea of what had happened.

Portals could be capricious. The night of Splinter’s mutation and escape from the Hidden City, a machine in Draxum’s original lab had gone haywire as the structure collapsed. Draxum watched as it snatched up various tools and equipment and finally one of the experiment enclosures that Splinter had not been able to reach in time to save its occupant with the four he already carried.

With the machine destroyed, it was impossible to even begin tracking the experiment down to wherever it had ended up. And there were unfortunately small odds that the creature would have survived long on its own wherever the portal deposited it. Draxum had written it off as dead.

But there he was. Ten years displaced, but living and healthy and whole. Apparently he’d been in another dimension all this time, and only came back again because a portal he encountered had looked inviting.

—

And now he’s in Mikey’s kitchen, listening studiously to his brother’s chatter and following instructions with exacting precision, still wearing the ridiculously oversized red sweater Mikey bundled him into the day before. It made Raph’s face do something funny when he saw Gio in it at lunch, but he hadn’t said anything when he saw Mikey hauling it out of the dryer earlier that morning, and he didn’t say anything at the table either.

Over the years and countless wash cycles it’s been worn to unbelievable softness. It used to be that Raph couldn’t keep it in his closet if he tried, caught as it was in a constant rotation between little siblings who loved to wear it, floppy sleeves and sagging hem and all. It’s almost strange to see it again, here under the kitchen lights in this new country they all live in.

Stealing clothes was a baby brother right of passage. And it was just collecting dust in storage anyway.

Gio sees Mikey looking and glances down self-consciously. Then he jolts, and drops the ball of dough in his hands, lifting and twisting his left arm to put it more in the light. Near the elbow of the sleeve is a smudge of flour.

He thumbs at the spot, preoccupied by it. His body language is shrinking because he always makes himself a smaller target when he starts to get anxious.

One day, Mikey is going to find whoever taught him to do that and have words. For now, he rounds the island to Gio’s side and leans against it so he can duck down and peer into that little spotted face. He makes sure to plant his own elbow in the flour dusted across the butcher block counter, sending up a little poof of it as he does.

“Hey, sweet kid, don’t worry about this old thing. It’s already been through everything you can possibly think of,” Mikey reassures, tweaking the hood playfully. “It survived the Paintball War of 2017, it’ll hold up to a little baking accident.”

Gio’s dark eyes lift to meet his, attentive and absorbing everything he sees and so, so careful.

“Raphael won’t get mad?”

Mikey keeps smiling, even though he’d like to start crying.

Of course he won’t, he wants to say. He’s your big brother and he loves you. He’d move heaven and earth for you. He doesn’t know how to say it these days—he doesn’t trust himself to hold people the way he used to, doesn’t know who he is anymore since the shield he used to be was broken—but he’s still Raph. Our Raphie. I promise, it’s still him.

Gio had never been lifted up into strong arms and tossed in the air until he laughed, caught safely and held tight like those arms would never get tired of holding him. He had never crawled under the blankets in a room humming and blinking with electronics after a nightmare, resting his head on a broad shoulder and falling asleep to a low voice rattling off his favorite explanation of gravity—a force that held everything down, pulled everything together, that could always be counted upon to keep you. He had never snuck out for brunch, just him and someone who saw him more clearly than he could ever see himself, who knew when a stack of French toast and a string of Snapchat selfies and a little mischief was exactly what he needed.

Gio had never had any of that. He had been alone since he was freshly mutated and abandoned by pure chance, and now he was barely nineteen and he didn’t know how else to be. He didn’t have the first clue, but he was so willing to learn. He soaked up attention like a plant starved for sunlight, petals reaching endlessly for an end to the dark.

I wish you had been there, Mikey thinks sometimes when he looks at him, heart breaking with the truth of it. We would have held you. You wouldn’t even know how to be alone. You wouldn’t be worried about a stain on a sweater.

“He won’t get mad,” Mikey says instead. He channels his most charming brother, the one who could sell water to a fish, who could talk his way out of anything, who convinced his family to keep hoping even when all hope seemed lost. “And hey, if he brings it up, we’ll just blame the cat.”

The corner of Gio’s mouth twitches, and then he smiles despite himself, as buoyed along as Mikey always was when Leo was silly with him, and says, “We don’t have a cat.”

“Maybe I’ve just been waiting for an excuse to get one!”

At that point, a burst of white noise from the living room cuts over whatever Gio might have been about to say. It sounds like the roar of wind from an open window of a car going seventy down the highway. It cuts off, and then something clatters noisily, and Gio’s reluctantly amused expression vanishes into alarm.

They don’t exactly get a lot of surprise visitors down here. He wouldn’t recognize the familiar sound of transportation-by-time-scepter, followed by the even more familiar sound of its clumsy wielder tripping and knocking something over immediately upon arrival.

“Oops—helloooo?”

“In here, Renet,” Mikey calls back, nudging his shoulder into Gio’s so he knows not to worry.

The timestress bumbles in, scepter tucked into the crook of her arm so she has both hands free to fix her braids. She’s smiling all big and crooked and sweet, mouth open to greet Mikey the same enthusiastic way she always greets him, but she stops dead in the doorway when she catches sight of the second turtle in the room.

Renet takes one look at Gio and says, “Oh! Well, you don’t belong here at all, do you?”

It’s been a long time since Mikey has felt like screaming at her, but the way his little brother absorbs that blow without flinching is enough to get him on his feet.

“Hey, Nettie, can we talk in the hall?” he says with a brightness he doesn’t feel. “Georgie, I’ll be right back, okay?”

Gio dips his head in a nod, slowly rolling dough in his hands again, and Renet follows Mikey out of the room like someone who knows they’re about to face the firing squad.

“I did not mean it like that,” is the first thing she says when it’s just the two of them. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

Mikey does know that somewhere in the back of his mind. Renet is his friend and she’s never been anything but kind to him. If they had met when they were children, they probably would have gotten along like a house on fire.

There was a time when he only saw the best in people, but the idealism had been carved out of Mikey when his portal to the prison dimension failed to open.

Some days, Mikey looks at Renet and can only see the person with time itself at her disposal, the past and future spread out like a choose-your-own-adventure book—the person with the power to help, to change things, who took Mikey’s countless, desperate pleas to be allowed to save his brother and held them tenderly like they were important to her and still told him no.

Some days, that “no” is the most significant thing she ever said to him.

“He’s my brother,” Mikey says. “He belongs wherever we are.”

“Of course he does,” Renet says, brown eyes soft. “Mike, of course he does. That’s not what I meant.”

When they move back into the kitchen, introductions are made properly, and Renet makes it a point to clarify that she’s glad to finally meet him.

Giorgio is watching them with those eyes that take in everything. Deep and trusting when he looks at Mikey, sharpening into something calculative when he shifts his gaze toward Renet.

Looking back, Mikey will recognize it as the moment he lost him.

“Smells pretty good in here, boys!” Renet says, swanning over to the stovetop. “Oh, is that chorizo? Mike, tell me you’re not making empanadas! I already ate on my way over!”

“Then you won’t need to stay for breakfast,” Mikey sing-songs, feathers still ruffled. Then, because he feels bad for the way she deflates at the blatant dismissal, adds, “If you want to stick around, you can take some back with you to Null Time. Just don’t let that jerk Savanti have any, I don’t like his vibe.” “I swear,” Renet says, hand to her heart.

“You talk about time travel like it’s something you can do,” Gio says suddenly. “Is it?”

The air in the room suddenly feels much thinner than before. Renet looks at Mikey quickly before answering.

“Sure, Gio. I’m a timestress—or, you know, I’m a student now. Basically an unpaid intern. But one of these days I’ll be the real deal.” She winks at him, and Gio gazes back at her placidly.

“So you could send someone back in time? To stop something bad from happening?”

Oh, no, Mikey thinks.

“I could,” Renet says. To her credit, she doesn’t sound as bone-tired of this conversation as she must be. “But I can’t. There are so many rules, and for good reason! One little slip-up could be an absolute disaster. It won’t do you any good trying to change the past if you end up destroying the present and the future while you’re at it, right? I’m barely allowed to look at this thing, much less use it,” Renet goes on, wagging the priceless time scepter around like it’s a rubber spatula.

“But you could,” Gio says. “If we followed all the rules. If we figured out a way—”

“Georgie,” Mikey interjects.

“I’ll tell you what I told Mike, baby,” Renet says gently. “It can’t be done. He belongs here.”

Gio says, “But I don’t. You said that.”

“Stop,” Mikey says, not recognizing his own voice.

But it’s too late. It was too late when he tried to open a door inside the prison dimension, because Leo was already dead inside.

He was already dead inside, Draxum had said, clinical in a way that helped to distance himself from the hurt, but also distanced himself from the ones hurting, clinical in a way that made Mikey bare his teeth and say things he couldn’t take back. That’s why you couldn’t reach him. It wasn’t your fault. There wasn’t a point for you to anchor off of, there was no other end for your line to reach. He was already dead inside. He was already gone.

Mikey stares at Gio, the tuck of his chin as he looks back down at the dough on the counter. He’s unwilling to argue with Mikey, but that stubbornness is an innate family trait. There’s no way he’ll give it up now that he’s got his teeth sunk into the idea. Mikey knows what it looks like when a brother is about to leave. Mikey knows what it feels like when they’re already gone.

When he was younger, he was so angry. He was bursting with potential, with possibilities, his magic a wounded, snarling creature in his heart. It’s not fair that he failed. It’s not fair that he didn’t save his brother, that his love wasn’t enough to punch through the prison dimension and wrap Leo in warmth and light and bring him home. It’s not fair that no one was willing to help him.

Fine, he had thought, fine! I’ll do it myself!

Renet had explained to him over and over that his power had more to do with space than time. Casey Jr. said that he’d been sent back in time by his Uncle Michelangelo, but that wasn’t necessarily true. Casey’s arrival in the past had created another universe, parallel to the former. That was Mikey’s power—he could affect and even create other timelines, which was powerful and amazing, but not true time travel. Nothing he did could change his own reality, the one he was living in, because he had already lived it. He couldn’t get back what he had lost.

Mikey plunged ahead anyway, desperate. He could make it work. He could make a change. Even if it didn’t change anything here, he could find another world and save its Leo and—and maybe that could be a start. Maybe he would finally get his head up above water, and stop drowning for just one second of the day, maybe he’d be able to take a full breath for the first time since his brother disappeared on the other side of a closed door.

He didn’t wait for permission or approval. He slunk off into a tunnel a mile away from home and drew the circles himself. Lifted his hands and filled them with power, until it felt like he was holding the sun. And it hurt, of course it did. It burned all the way through. But he was hurting anyway.

A portal opened, a pale yellow window. Mikey looked through it, and saw himself on Staten Island, ripping open a hole in the universe and saving his brother.

What?

He looked again, over and over, at least half a dozen times—and every time, he looked into a universe where Leo didn’t die. Where Mikey saved him, or Raph scooped him up before he went diving off the Technodrome to catch Mikey and Donnie, or Donnie flew back up to Leo with a rocket and yanked him back through the door before Casey managed to close it. Over and over and over, Leo didn’t die.

So it’s just me, Mikey realized. I’m the one who got it wrong.

Raph followed the detonation of ninpo and hysterical screaming through the maze-like tunnels and found him suspended in midair. Rock and rebar were flying around Mikey, everything not nailed to the earth turned dangerous projectiles, his arms burning and flaking away into pieces that disintegrated when they met open air.

His big brother’s expression had been terrified as he pulled Mikey down into his arms and held him through the shrieking storm he’d made. One hand on the back of his head to keep his face tucked safely into Raph’s scarred shoulder, the other arm cradling him like he was half his age, like he was still someone’s baby.

“Angie, it’s okay,” Raph had said, low and aching. His voice was a rumble beneath Mikey’s ear, barely audible but just loud enough. “It’s okay. You can scream, you can bring the whole damn city down if you want. But you gotta let go, sunshine. Let go, Mikey.”

I don’t want to I don’t want to I don’t want to I don’t want to! Mikey wailed, clutching at Raph’s jacket with hands that felt like two white-hot points of pure agony, clinging, holding on. If he let go, Leo stayed gone. If he let go, he really didn’t love Leo enough to save him.

But Raph pressed his cheek to the top of Mikey’s head, and his next breath shuddered in his chest, and he whispered, “I know you don’t want to, I know. But this isn’t gonna save him. You’re just hurting yourself and L—Leo would hate that. He’d tell you to stop.” One hand crept over to cover both of Mikey’s, squeezing them tight. “Come on, big man. It’s okay. Let go.”

He let go. The magic faded, dropping everything it had picked up back to the tunnel floor with dull thuds. His hands spasmed wildly, grip nonexistent, and Raph just kept holding them as he carried Mikey home.

Mikey sobbed for the rest of the night, what felt like hours and hours. Raph reverted to turtle sounds when nothing he said seemed to get through, and Donnie crept under the blanket and plastered himself to Mikey’s carapace so that they had “A little citrus sandwich!” Leo would cheer, the silliest and sweetest turtle in the world until Mikey finally cracked a smile.

His family made him promise not to try again. It’s not worth it, they said, a unified front—and as much as the words hurt Mikey to hear, it must have hurt his siblings and father just as much to say them. We can’t lose anyone else, they were ready to beg, because they didn’t know it was his fault Leo was gone. They didn’t understand how badly he’d failed them all. If they did, they wouldn’t have been so grimly determined to protect Mikey’s life from his own hands.

It felt like a betrayal at the time, but he understands now.

It’s not worth it, he thinks, staring at Gio. I can’t lose anyone else, he’s ready to beg.

But Mikey knows what it looks like when a brother is about to leave. Mikey knows what it feels like when they’re already gone.

What he doesn’t know is how to love someone well enough to keep them.

#rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #hamato michelangelo #rottmnt oc #my writing #tmnt fic #the archer au #hamato giorgio

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spatialwave · 21 hours ago

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Jayce x reader fluff or head canons?

Yesss! These headcanons are a mix of fluff and silly slice-of-life! Hope they're what you're looking for! <3

Jayce loves to be the little spoon when going to bed. It makes him feel safe and comfortable, and especially loves it if you’re smaller than he is. However, he isn’t opposed to being the big spoon, especially if you’re seeking comfort. He’ll hold you against his chest, snoring gently into your ear.

On that note, he falls asleep extremely fast. One of those guys who says goodnight, closes his eyes and drifts to sleep immediately. He’s also a heavy sleeper; if you’re not his alarm, it will take everything to wake him up in the morning.

He’s a morning person, to a fault. He wakes up bright and early to make tea and will be so chipper when you finally wake up and be unable to keep himself from pestering you in your half-asleep state. If you’re grumpy in the mornings, he’ll tease you, but make it up to you with a fresh coffee and breakfast.

He’s a decent cook, but not the best. If you teach him, he will want to cook you everything he can. Give him proper criticism, and he’ll reward you with a meal, and a kiss.

When it comes to public displays of affection, Jayce is a sucker for it. Especially when he becomes the Man of Progress and has more eyes on him. He loves holding your hand, pressing chaste kisses to your cheek and make sure everyone around knows that you’re his partner. Most people find it annoying, but he doesn’t care. (He probably tried to bring you up with him for his big speech, but they wouldn’t let him… such a dork)

Jayce is a hopeless romantic. He’ll fall in love with you so fast, when you smile at him for the first time, that’s when it hits. It’s his goal to make sure you’re the happiest person in the world.

If he ever works late or finds himself spending lots of time working on hextech, he’ll make it up to you. Whether it’s a night in alone (likely in bed), or spoiling you with gifts like roses and sweets. It’s impossible to not feel like the most important person in the world, with him around.

He gets you, along with Sky, to who watch him and Viktor practice their pitches for Heimerdinger and the council.

If you’re shorter than him, he loves resting his chin on the top of your head. Pressing kisses and breathing in your scent. It calms him.

Jayce is a sucker for neck kisses, loves giving them but prefers receiving. It’s the one way to really make him squirm. If you want to get him particularly riled up, breath against the back of his neck or ears, he’ll shiver and fold for you immediately. A great way to get your dominance over him.

He loves giving you massages, his calloused hands gliding along your skin. Fingers working deeply into the tissue of your muscles and working out all the kinks and knots. Likewise, he appreciates them in return, and he always makes atrociously loud noses when you work over his tight muscles.

When he can, he likes to wake you up with kisses. Peppering the skin of your bare shoulders with gentle pecks, warm breath tickling your skin. He could do it for hours, feeling the way your skin breaks out into goosebumps.

Jayce is the type of dork to get you a promise ring. He would make a grand gesture out of it, eyes big and sparkling as he slides the ring onto your finger. It wouldn’t last long, though, because the moment he sees it he’ll want to actually propose. He’s very big into commitment.

When he’s home, Jayce is shirtless. Always.

He smells like mahogany.

Lastly, he wants to be a dad so bad, but he fears he won't be good enough. It’s where much of his insecurities rise.

#jayce talis #jayce arcane #jayce x reader #jayce x you #jayce headcanons #jayce talis headcanons #arcane #arcane headcanons #arcane x reader #arcane x you #wordsbyspatial #spatialanswers

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sirhamburrger · 2 days ago

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blue lock characters when you come home after a bad week at work

characters: yoichi isagi, meguru bachira, rensuke kunigami, seishiro nagi, reo mikage

tags: gn!reader, reader is referred to as "cutie" in bachira's and "darling" in kunigami's, reo being a rich boyfailure

a/n: first ever blue lock post lol (divider by @cafekitsune)

yoichi isagi 潔世一 : the quintessential gentleman

“hey, what's wrong? you know you can talk to me about anything.”

if you feel like talking about it, he'll sit beside you patiently and listen (even if it takes an hour and a half). if you don't feel like talking about it, he'll get you a cup of your comfort beverage and take a short nap with you

you'll definitely feel a lot better when you finally wake up in his arms, and he'll talk things through with you so patiently!

he makes sure to remind you of how strong and brave you are, and how much he loves you!!

“i want you to know that i love you and i will support you always, no matter what.”

meguru bachira 蜂楽廻 : the supportive jokester

“look who's all moody today! c'mon, cutie, won't you lighten up a little?”

when he realizes there's something wrong, it's like someone flipped a switch on him because he gets so unbelievably serious and sits you down at the dining table

after he coaxes the full story out of you, he peppers your face with kisses, wiping your tears away gently

he will then proceed to hit you with a barrage of the worst dad jokes known to man until you're laughing at him laughing at himself

“i know i find it hard to take things seriously sometimes, but you? you're something i will always be serious about. i will always make time for you.”

rensuke kunigami 國神錬介: the dedicated sweetheart

he doesn't say anything at first, just wraps you up in a big bear hug (he doesn't let you go for the next five minutes)

in typical malewife fashion, he makes you a snack and runs you a bath. while you relax in the tub, he somehow manages to clean the whole house??

afterwards, he makes dinner with you in silence (man's love language is definitely quality time)

when you finally decide to open up to him, he's holding your hand throughout and lets you take your time explaining without interruptions

“thank you for telling me all this, darling, so i can support you like how you. deserve. i know you'll get through it like you always do.”

seishiro nagi 凪誠士郎: the silent rock

he notices something’s off, but he holds off on saying anything in case he's wrong. as the day goes on he notices you're not your usual self and silently takes a seat beside you

“...you okay?”

you break down crying and all he can think to do is to pull you into his lap and hold you tight. he nods silently as you tell him everything, and though he doesn't say much, whatever advice he does give is surprisingly pretty helpful

he takes you on a snack run after even if it's 4 am! because “nothing is too much of a hassle when it comes to making you happy.”

and that makes you cry even more (happy tears this time <3)

reo mikage 御影玲王: uh... he's doing his best??

he finds himself temporarily frozen when you walk through the front door with the most sullen expression on your face. at first he thinks it's something he might've done wrong

all it takes for you to break down is a light squeeze of your palm, and now he's utterly clueless on what to do. he awkwardly pats your back

growing up a sheltered only child with a grand total of one true friend, he's never been in a position where he had to comfort someone

“i can pull some strings, get your horrible boss fired… or you could quit your job and stay at home! yeah, we can do that…”

you make fun of him for being bad at comforting people, but it definitely brings your mood up a little

you end the night watching your comfort tv series on the couch with him and all is well!

bllk masterlist || general masterlist

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famoussharkhairdoknight · 1 day ago

Text

Meet my sister P.2-Jude Bellingham

Part.1, Part.3

plot: Federico Valverde wants to introduce his younger sister to Jude, his teammate. He hoped that something romantic would be born between them seeing that their characters were perfect together but things take a different turn

wearnings: +18,handjob

Jude returned home that evening with a strange feeling, a tension he couldn’t shake off. He had faced plenty of people in his life: opponents on the field, critics in the press, even stubborn teammates. But you? You were different. Not only had you dared to challenge him openly, but you had gotten under his skin in a way he couldn’t explain.

He let himself fall onto his couch, phone in hand. He tried to distract himself by scrolling through notifications and messages, but your face kept popping into his mind: the way your eyes sparkled with sarcasm, the provocative smile that seemed to say, "You’ll never have the upper hand with me.”

“Ridiculous,” he muttered to himself, but he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

With a resigned sigh, he opened Instagram and typed your name into the search bar. It didn’t take long to find you; your profile was verified and had millions of followers. Jude scrolled slowly, studying one photo after another.

There were pictures of you on red carpets, flawless in high-fashion gowns. Shots from ad campaigns, where your intense gaze and bold poses grabbed attention. Then, more personal images: you on a beach, the sun lighting up your skin; you in a recording studio with a satisfied smile; you laughing with a disarming naturalness.

His eyes stopped on one picture in particular: you were seated on a couch, wearing a red dress that hugged your curves perfectly. Your hair fell over your shoulders, and your smile was both sweet and mischievous.

Jude smirked, an arrogant grin reflecting his thoughts. “Sexy, no doubt about it,” he muttered to himself, leaning back into the couch. But then his smirk turned into a grimace. “But insufferable. Thinks she knows everything, always has to have the last word.”

Despite the irritation you caused him, he couldn’t look away. He kept scrolling, discovering more aspects of you that trapped him in a mix of attraction and annoyance.

“How does Federico put up with you?” he wondered, though a part of him knew that your personality was exactly what drew him in. You weren’t like the other women he knew. You didn’t try to please him or impress him. If anything, you did everything you could to challenge him.

“I don’t like you. You’re just a challenge,” he said out loud, almost as if trying to convince himself. But he knew there was something more. Maybe it was the way you never backed down, or maybe it was how your laughter managed to irritate and intrigue him at the same time.

Before he realized it, he had spent over half an hour on your profile. He abruptly shut his phone, almost annoyed at himself. “Ridiculous,” he muttered again, standing up and running a hand through his hair.

But as he headed to his bedroom, your face kept resurfacing in his mind. Jude didn’t want to admit it, but he already knew this wouldn’t be the last time he searched your name on Instagram. And that realization irritated him more than anything else.

He had just laid on the bed, his hands behind his head, trying to shake off the annoyance. But that annoyance had a very specific name: yours. He was convinced that it was enough to ignore you to stop thinking about you, but it did not work. The more he tried to drive you out of his mind, the more your sarcastic smile and intense eyes came to haunt him.

After a few minutes, he snorted frustrated, grabbed his phone and almost without thinking, went back to your Instagram profile. It was an impulsive gesture, one he knew he should not have done, but it was too late.

While scrolling through your photos once more, he found one that struck him more than the others. You were sitting on a balcony, with a breathtaking view behind you, but he didn’t notice anything around you. All his attention was on you. You wore a black dress with a dizzying slit that let your smooth skin glimpse. Your legs were crossed with natural grace, and your gaze, directed into the room, seemed to challenge anyone not to yield to your charm.

Jude stared at the picture for a few seconds, feeling his breath getting heavier. He felt his cock harden. Your body was amazing, she had already noticed that, but there was something more. Your attitude, that combination of sensuality and pride, was an open challenge. It seemed you were saying, "I know you want me, but you won’t have me easily."

«Damn...» he muttered to himself, feeling a wave of heat passing through him. He ran his hand through his hair, trying to regain control, but it was useless. His mind was filled with dirty thoughts about you, and that character which irritated him and fascinated him at the same time.

He dropped backwards on the bed, phone still in hand. With his right hand he threw his cock out of his boxer shorts and began to saw himself while his gaze returned to your picture, while a grimace was drawn on his face. «You think you are untamable, don’t you?» he said in a low voice, almost as if you were there to hear it.

The image of you gave him a shiver down his spine. He felt tense, stiff, as if the thought of you had taken over his body. He was used to having control over everything: in the field, in his personal life, with women. But you were another story.

He started to stroke his cock faster as he thought you were bent like a slut in front of him while you took his dick.

«I would tame you in a second,» he muttered, almost with anger.

But he knew that the real problem was not to tame you physically, but to tame your character. Because even though he thought you were incredibly hot, your strong temper and sarcasm drove him crazy. He couldn’t decide if he wanted to challenge you or win you over.

Jobe kept looking at your picture and continued to cut himself quickly, then came with a moan.

He closed his eyes for a moment trying to catch his breath

When he opened his eyes again, Jude closed the click phone and threw it on the bedside table. But your smile kept tormenting him. He couldn’t get you out of his head, and that irritated him more than anything. Because, deep down, he knew you’d find a way to sneak into his thoughts once again.

«I hate her»

---

The next morning, Jude arrived at the training ground still irritated with himself. He hadn’t slept well, tormented by thoughts of you. Every time he closed his eyes, your face resurfaced, along with the memory of that photo. He tried to shake off the tension, but it wasn’t easy, especially knowing that Vinicius and Kylian would be eager to ask how it went.

As he tied his cleats in the locker room, Vinicius walked in with his usual sly grin. Kylian followed closely behind, just as curious. They exchanged a knowing glance before approaching Jude.

"So, Bellingham," Vinicius started, slapping him on the back. "Federico told us you met his sister yesterday."

Jude let out a sigh, pretending indifference. "Yeah, so what?"

Kylian chuckled, leaning against the locker next to him. "So, tell us. How was it? Federico seemed so excited about the introduction."

Jude stood up, adjusting his training shirt. "Not much to say. She’s... irritating."

Vinicius raised an eyebrow, amused. "Irritating? Really? So, you didn’t like her?"

"It’s not about liking her," Jude replied, annoyed. "It’s that she has an unbearable personality. Always ready with a comeback, always provoking. She thinks she’s funny, but really..."

"But really, she made you lose your mind, huh?" Vinicius interrupted, a sly grin forming on his face.

"Stop it," Jude warned, shooting him a cold look. "She didn’t make me lose anything. She’s just another girl with a huge ego."

Kylian burst into laughter. "Yeah, sure. That’s why you’re talking about her, right? You know, Jude, when someone doesn’t really bother us, we don’t mention them at all."

Jude clenched his jaw, trying to keep his cool. "I’m not talking about her. You’re the ones who keep bringing it up."

Vinicius sat down next to him, watching him with an amused expression. "You know, Jude, I’ve seen his sister a couple of times. And I gotta say, Federico’s right: she’s a bombshell. Beautiful, talented... and with a character that doesn’t go unnoticed. Maybe that’s what bothers you."

Jude turned to him, narrowing his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"I mean maybe you’re not used to a girl who doesn’t fall at your feet," Vinicius replied with a smirk. "Admit it, she stood her ground, and that pisses you off."

Kylian nodded, adding, "And let’s be real, someone like her isn’t exactly easy to ignore."

Jude sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You’re making a mountain out of nothing. I’m not interested."

"Right, sure," Vinicius countered, laughing. "We’ll see how long it takes for you to come up with an excuse to see her again."

Jude stood up, heading towards the field with a neutral expression. "It’s not going to happen."

But as he walked, their laughter and words continued to echo in his mind. No matter how much he wanted to deny it, he knew there was something about you that intrigued him. And that irritated him more than any provocation.

---

The night at the club had just begun, and the atmosphere was electric. Federico, Jude, Kylian, and other teammates had gathered there to unwind after an intense week. The dance floor was crowded, colorful lights flashed in every corner, and the music vibrated in the air, making everyone's heart beat to the rhythm. As always, Jude was the center of attention, surrounded by girls trying to catch his eye, but he seemed distant, as if something was distracting him. Maybe it was the thought of you, or maybe it was the irritation he still felt toward you, but he couldn't focus on anything else.

Vinicius and Kylian were more relaxed, chatting and laughing, while Federico was enjoying himself with some friends. But the atmosphere changed abruptly when the door to the club opened, revealing a figure walking in with confidence, turning everyone’s head. It was you, of course. Your entrance was theatrical, your radiant smile, and the energy you exuded from your presence seemed to be the only thing capturing everyone’s attention.

Vinicius and Kylian's eyes lit up. "Look who's here," Kylian said, impressed by your entrance. "You can't miss her."

Vinicius nodded, watching you with admiration. "It's impossible not to stare. Beautiful, confident... and that personality that makes her even more intriguing."

Meanwhile, Jude, who had been trying to ignore you until that moment, let out a visible sigh, feeling that annoying pang of irritation grow inside him. You were moving on the dance floor with natural sensuality, effortlessly, as if the music was a part of you. Every step, every movement, drew attention, and the girls around Jude seemed to forget about him, all focused on you. Jude, however, couldn't stop watching you, despite his irritation.

"Do you like her?" Vinicius asked with a smile, noticing Jude’s fixed gaze on you.

Jude shrugged, trying to seem indifferent. "No," he replied curtly. "It annoys me how she stands out like that."

"Though you can’t take your eyes off her, right?" Kylian teased, with his usual knowing grin. "Are you sure you don’t like her?"

"I don’t like her," Jude repeated, but his voice betrayed a slight uncertainty.

Meanwhile, you continued to dance, unaware of their comments. Your energy was contagious to everyone, but it seemed like it wasn’t sitting well with Jude. Every movement you made made him more tense, and every glance he threw at you made him feel strangely uneasy. He couldn’t understand what it was, but there was something about you that irritated him and at the same time attracted him, a contrast he couldn’t settle.

Vinicius and Kylian kept making appreciative comments, laughing between themselves, while Jude distanced himself from the conversation, trying to deflect the attention. But the truth was, he couldn’t stop thinking about you, and the fact that he was so irritated by you made him even more annoyed.

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sammysbrokenheart · 2 days ago

Text

Infinity.

Summary: You and Billie met before the fame and the fortune, but some things aren't always meant to be. (written in your pov)

Billie and I have been attached at the hip since we were 14. We did everything together and that's how we like it.

When we turned 15 it turned into something flirty. It was so innocent though. Two best friends seeing each other differently. That was also around the time Ocean Eyes happened.

Billie's life changed rapidly, but your bond stayed exactly the same. Somewhere during all the chaos you two fell in love and your best friendship turned into your first ever relationship.

"Baby I miss you," she says over the phone. That was the only way that we could communicate lately because Billie became so busy.

"I miss you too my love," I say sitting up from my bed. It was the middle of the night, between all of the touring and craziness she always tried to call. She sometimes forgets that timezones exist.

"When I get home I'm gonna spoil you rotten baby," She said and I could feel my heart skip a beat.

She's supposed to come home in three days and I can't wait to finally see her again. In three days is also my 18th birthday and in all the years of dating (all two years) she always made sure to make your day special.

I remember last years birthday was so romantic. She filled my bedroom with balloons and other cute decorations. After the shock died down we had dinner and watched Spirited Away. That's our favourite movie to watch together.

~~~next day~~~

"Why the face?" my brother asked when we were busy washing and drying the dishes the next day. I almost cut my hand from shock because my mind was so occupied.

"Yesterday Billie and I were talking and I don't know... I feel uneasy," I say handing him the knife in my hand.

"Why?" my brother said with a confused look on his face.

"I don't know I haven't heard from her since then and I know it could be nothing, but it doesn't feel like that..." I say scrubbing the plate in my hand.

"Come on it's Billie we're talking about... She loves you," he said slowly taking the plate out of my hand.

I could feel tears forming in my eyes and my heart felt heavy. She did love me. I kept repeating that to myself

"Heyyy stop doing that! It's gonna be okay," he pulled me into his arms and I couldn't help but cry.

~~~next day~~~

I woke up bright and early. I couldn't sleep from excitement anyway. I spent the better half of my morning picking something to wear and when I finally did it was 10 am, I spent 3 hours picking something to wear.

My parents and brother surprised me with a very sweet birthday breakfast. After the birthday breakfast my best friend Allan and Britney came to drag me away to some surprise.

I tried not to be too excited about it. I kept thinking that maybe Billie was waiting at the destination, hidden away somewhere to surprise me, but that wasn't the case. The surprise was a lovely picnic with all of our other friends. They sang for me and baked me the most delicious cake yet somewhere deep inside I was disappointed.

I looked down at my phone, no message.

"Come in birthday girl let's go take some pictures by the lake," Britney pulled me up from where I was sitting and dragged me to where the others were standing. Allan brought her camera and she was super excited to take some pictures.

After another hour they took me back home. At home my mother and father were in the backyard chatting and my brother was nowhere no be found.

Time passed slowly and before I knew it, it was dark. I stared up at the ceiling. Every second felt agonizing because they were seconds without Billie. Maybe I jinxed myself? Why did I say what I did yesterday?

I picked up my phone and tried to call her. What if something was wrong and she wasn't okay? Her call went straight to voicemail which was very unlike her and that made me panic even more.

The next morning came slowly. Anxiety kept me awake all night, this horrible feeling landed in the pit of my stomuch. I slowly dragged myself out of bed and went straight to the bathroom.

I decided to freshen up and take a shower immediately. There was no use in trying to sleep again. I went to pick up my phone and saw that it's off, it must have died in the middle of the night.

After placing my phone on charge I went down stairs to make myself some breakfast. Suddenly there was a knock at the door.

"I know I fucked up and I know you're probably mad at me, but I swear I can explain," Billie said as soon as the door opened.

I could feel my heart melt. All the anger and disappointment disappeared the moment I saw her.

"Y/N..." she said again and I realized that I must have zoned out.

Without any warning I wrapped my arms around her holding her tightly. It felt so comforting to be in her arms again like finally coming home after a long trip. Billie was my home.

"Let me make it up to you?" she asked and I nodded immediately. I didn't care what we were doing or what she had planned as long as we were together.

She was recognized all day and because she has such a big heart she made sure to give every fan equal attention. It made my heart swell to see her interact with her fans. It made me proud. At the same time spending time with Billie made me realize that I had no idea who she was anymore.

In the middle of our outing to the movies she got a call. She apologized profusely whispering frantically as she quickly got up and rushed out of the movie theater.

I sat there frozen staring at the screen. For some reason I couldn't move and for a moment it felt like I couldn't move at all.

This was her way to make up for missing my birthday and she left. She left.

That night she was on a plane back to wherever, I didn't care to ask, when she told me she was gone I immediately ended the call.

~~~two months later~~~

I broke up with Billie a week after that incident, I didn't want to, but it was for the best. I refused to watch us slowly drift the way I've been doing. My girlfriend became a stranger to me.

"Okay sis this tree is ugly as hell," my brother said with a judgemental look on his face as he examined my tree decorations.

I stood back looking at my Christmas tree.

"What do you mean!? This is the prettiest fucking Christmas tree ever," I said defensively.

My father peeked through the door, "He's right sweety..."

"Dad why would you take his side!" I said just as the doorbell rang.

I hurried to the door, it was probably Allan coming with her gift for me. I opened the door and immediately closed it and ran back to the living room.

"Who was it?" my brother asked then suddenly the doorbell rang again.

"Don't you dare!" I told him, but he didn't listen.

"Oh my gosh Billie!? Come on in baby!" my mother beat my brother to the door.

My brother bolted along with my dad. Suddenly it was just Billie and I alone in the living room. I quickly walked to the tree and started to remove the decorations. It was fucking ugly.

"This is a God awful tree," she said standing next to me and started helping me remove the decorations.

"Shut up..." I said.

I could feel her look at me every once in a while, but I didn't dare to look at her.

"So... Fuck Y/N look at me!" she said cupped my face in her hands forcing me to look at her.

"Billie I don't know what you're doing here-"

"I am here to get my fucking girlfriend back. At first I was a smart ass and I wanted to prove to myself that I'm alright but I'm fucking not. I'm not fucking alright Y/N," she said. I pushed her hands off of my face and took a step back.

"Y/N I know I get busy and I'm sorry for not always bringing you along on my journey, but I want you here. I want you with me, please let me prove to you how much I want you around," she said and I sighed. I had no idea what I was going to do.

Cliffhanger ♡♡

#billie eilish fanfiction #billie eilish x reader #billie eilish x y/n #billie eilish x you #wlw post #wlw fanfic #billie eilish #Spotify

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caustinen · 17 hours ago

Note

Callum's LV campaign is sooo #hollywood au coded!

I know Gale is too shy but arghghgh can you imagine them in a brand campaign? Or Vogue photoshoot? Dayum.

oh oh oh how i’ve missed this au, thank you for this!!!! since i already headcanoned gale would feel to awkward posing i’ll let everyone decide for themselves if this is au of an au or did john manage to talk him into it after they did their private photoshoot 🤭

we’re trying another social media au today!! idk if it works in this format but i hope you enjoy <3

@_vogue_

EXCLUSIVE: ”He keeps me wanting to be better, as a human and as an actor” — Be the first two see new exclusive pictures of John Egan and husband Gale Cleven-Egan posing for this month’s #VOGUE cover shoot in brand new Louis Vuitton! ❤️‍🔥

Comments

@_hollyB34: sigh since vogue didn’t bother with alt texts i’ve got you covered (but we expect more from you @_vogue_ get your shit together)

photo 1: john leaning at a wall in white coat facing the camera, gale is on his right as if walking away but they’re holding hands

photo 2: picture taken from the side, gale leaning against the wall with right hand on the elbow of the left one and looking away from the camera, john has his right hand on the wall next to his head and he’s staring down at him kind of towering over him crowding him into the wall

photo 3: close up of their hands holding the same louis vuitton bag, john’s fingers looking much bigger than gale’s delicate hand, two of john’s fingers streches to cover gale’s

photo 4: standing side by side, john’s arm around gale’s shoulders and gale is holding that hand with one of his and the other is wrapped around john’s middle, they’re looking at each other.

photo 5: close-up of just their faces, gale is holding the back of his hand to his lips and covering laughing, john is staring at him with the worst case of heart eyes you’ve ever seen, he’s also smirking

photo 6: john staring at the camera, hands on gale’s waist, gale’s back is facing the camera and he’s leaned into john’s torso, cheek resting on his shoulder, arms wrapped around his middle. Keep reading…

@_clegan4ever: did i die. is this heaven.

@_rosiecheeks: if someone told me a year ago clegan would actually drop this kind of blessing upon us i would’ve laughed them out ALAS HERE WE ARE HOW ARE WE FEELING

@_egansgrl: why does that bag photo look POSESSIVE it’s literally just hands asdf like chill man ain’t no one taking him away from you

@_adamadam: it’s literally insane how the two most attractive people in the world found each other??? and actually seem like a good match???

@—keirak77: no offense to egan but damn his hubby should be a model fr

@_€urovizion: gale would literally tower over me HOW DOES HE LOOK SO TINY NEXT TO HIM john do be built like a brick house

@_cleganists: i want to cry the fact that they’re willing to share this with us despite of everything they’ve been through with the media over the years :((((

@_buckholic: THANK HEAVENS THANK YOU GOD FOR MAKING THESE TWO MEN

@_ourbaby82: john is serving so hard i’m amazed the camera didn’t just melt

@_CLEGANUPDATES: #clegan has been trending worldwide for 6 hours

@_marymecurtb: so much to unpack here but like the sexiest part of this is literally the way they look at each other. like how are you together for like a decade and still be this down bad for each other omg

@_misscleven: i wouldn’t mind being squished in the middle of this sandwitch

@_johnegans: oh damn that gale cleven-egan truly is the finest piece of ass i ever saw on a cover of a magazine that john egan is one lucky bastard

@_CLEGANUPDATES: ASDFHAFAHAJAVAJSK JOHN LMAO

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

”John?” ”Yes, dear?”

John doesn’t look up from his phone from where he’s half laying across their bed waiting for Gale to be ready. They’re seeing Sabrina for her LA show tonight, and Gale has helped him with the glitter on his face before disappearig back to the bathroom to get ready himself.

Gale’s tone is filled with suspicion but not accusing — yet. ”Do you happen to know why John Brady has called me 12 times?” John makes an exaggerated ”thinking face”, and he can practically feel Gale squint his eyes at him. ”…No idea. You’ve been friends with him longer, your guess is better than mine!” Gale looks at him for a moment more before talking again.

”Mm-hm. Somehow I get the feeling he’s calling not as my friend but as your publicist.”

John finally looks up and he can’t help but let his face fall into a smirk as he sees Gale assessing at him with his eyes. He gets up from the bed and walks up to his husband who’s still following him with his eyes. ”Who knows? Probably phoning to congratulate us on a beautiful photoshoot.”

He delights in the blush on Gale’s cheeks, visible even underneath the glitter hearts. He looks adorable, and delicious, and John can’t wait to see his current favorite popstar but he also can’t wait to get back home with his hubby and try whatever position she suggests during Juno with him.

”Oh yeah, that came out today…” Gale mutters and looks down, and while the blush truly is so cute, John knows they need to get going soon. He tilts Gale’s face back up by his chin and pecks on his lips gently.

”They love it. They love you.” He considers it for a moment, getting lost in Gale’s eyes, before smirking again dropping his hand to squeeze his ass. ”I think I even recall someone calling you the hottest piece of ass they’ve ever seen on the comments.”

Gale rolls his eyes. ”That’s not what I- Nevermind.” He sighs and pushes John away but his husband can tell the blush is a pleased one now. One day he will make him believe how beautiful he is and he won’t need these constant reminders (John’s gonna keep giving them anyway, of course).

”Should we get going then?” He asks casually, and Gale has just had time to nod when his phone starts ringing again. He checks the ID and frowns. ”It’s Brady again. I’ll get this and then we can go.”

Bucky responds with a seemingly careless uhm but grimances as he turns to face the other way. He’s just made it to the door when the scandalized yell of JOHN CLARENCE EGAN fills the air.

”I’ll wait at the car sweetheart!” he yelps back and starts running. He even makes it down two sets of staris before Gale manages to tackle him down.

#is this anything #clegan #buck x bucky #mota #buck #bucky #writing #hollywood au

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zerun0 · 2 days ago

Note

please a Jayvik fic? that would be super cool and awesome sauce so I can pretend s2 didn't happen and they're having fun working as lab partners <3

"For now" — Viktor x Jayce

English is not my first language. Feel free to comment on any of my mistakes and i will update the post, also I more than happy to receive suggestions, and advice on how to improve my work.

— !SFW! — Established relationship, Fluff, Flirting, Garden, kissing. — Word count: — 1,9k (Full uncut version on AO3)

The Hextech lab buzzed with the energy of early afternoon. Shafts of sunlight filtered through the high windows, lighting up the chaotic jumble of notes, tools, and half-finished devices strewn across every surface. Jayce and Viktor stood side by side, arms crossed, looking down at the creature sitting proudly on their workbench, a round, fluffy Poro with stubby legs and an unshakable confidence.

“I trust you two implicitly! ”— Heimerdinger declared, his tiny hands clasped behind his back as he beamed up at them. “This little one has a, shall we say, spirit for exploration, when it’s not napping.”

Jayce leaned forward, hands braced on his knees. — “Professor, are you sure you can’t just take it to your meeting? I mean, it’s not like the Council Chamber is a lab full of fragile, priceless equipment.”

“Oh, nonsense!” — Heimerdinger waved his hand dismissively. — “They wouldn’t understand his unique needs. Besides, you’re the perfect duo for the task.” — He gestured between the two of them, eyes twinkling. — “Viktor with his sharp mind, and Jayce with his...big heart. Surely you’ll manage.”

Viktor arched an eyebrow. — “Professor, I am not certain that babysitti-”

“Ah! Not babysitting! Mentoring!” — Heimerdinger corrected. He patted the Poro, which chirped happily. — “He has much to learn about the world, and you’ll provide him with a safe, structured environment.”

The Poro hopped in place, nearly knocking over a flask of shiny blue liquid. Jayce caught it mid-air with quick reflexes, sighing sharply as he set it back down. — “Safe and structured,” — Viktor repeated dryly but in a low tone, unheard.

“Now, I must be off. Don’t let him out of your sight!” — With that, the diminutive professor bustled out, leaving the two young inventors staring at the small, smug creature that now ruled their afternoon.

Jayce straightened, running a hand through his hair. — “Okay, this can’t be that hard. He’s just a little…fluffy thing. How much trouble can he cause?”

The Poro tilted its head innocently before leaping off the table and darting into the maze of equipment.

“Right,” — Viktor muttered, already reaching for his cane to follow.

— Half an hour later, the lab looked like a storm had hit it.

“Where did he go this time?” — Jayce asked, hands on his hips. “Under the shelf,” — Viktor replied, not even looking up from where he was recalibrating a delicate instrument.

Jayce knelt down, peering into the shadows. — “Come on, little guy,” — he coaxed, waving the brightly colored toy Heimerdinger had left. The Poro eyed him warily, a small item clamped in its teeth.

“Don’t chew on that!” — Jayce lunged, but the Poro darted out of reach, bounding across the lab and knocking over a stack of schematics.

“Jayce,” — Viktor said calmly, — “please do not let him destroy everything we have worked on in the past three weeks.”

Jayce groaned, gathering up the scattered pages. — “Why does it like chewing on stuff so much? What does Heimerdinger even feed it?”

“Chaos, apparently,”— Viktor replied, glancing toward the Poro as it hopped onto one of the tables. It sniffed at a set of neatly arranged tools before pawing at them — “He must be bored. Perhaps we should entertain him?”

Jayce stared at him. — “Entertain? Viktor, it’s a Poro, not a toddler.”

“Clearly, you have never babysat before.” — Viktor sighed and set down his tools. He approached the Poro. With surprising gentleness, he reached out, holding the toy at the perfect angle to catch the creature’s attention.

The Poro sniffed it, intrigued, before pouncing.

“See?” — Viktor said, holding the Poro in place with one hand while it gnawed happily on the toy. — “It is not so difficult.”

Jayce folded his arms, watching with a surprised smile. — “You’re good at this. I guess all those late nights in the lab have taught you patience.”

“Or perhaps I am simply better at adapting than you.” — Viktor’s smirk was subtle, but it lingered.

Jayce chuckled. — “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Immensely.” — Viktor replied.

They stood in silence for a moment, Viktor holding the Poro steady while Jayce leaned against the table, watching the two of them. The afternoon sunlight caught in Viktor’s pale features, highlighting the sharp angles of his face and the focused intensity of his eyes.

“You know,” — Jayce began, his voice quieter, — “you’re always surprising me.”

Viktor glanced at him, eyebrow raised. — “Am I?”

“Yeah. Like,” — He paused for a second — “I didn’t think you’d be the kind of person who’s good with animals. But… you are.”

“Hmm.” — Viktor considered this for a moment before returning his attention to the Poro. — “I suppose I have an affinity for difficult creatures.”

Jayce laughed, the sound warm and unguarded. — “Are you calling me a difficult creature?”

“Do you require constant supervision and occasionally eat things you should not?” — Viktor shot him a sidelong glance.

Jayce held up his hands in mock surrender. — “Okay, fair-”

The Poro squeaked suddenly, leaping from Viktor’s hands and bounding toward another set of delicate instruments.

“Not again,” — Viktor sighed, already moving to intercept. Jayce followed, their shoulders brushing as they reached the table at the same time. Viktor’s hand caught the Poro, and Jayce steadied the precarious setup of tools.

For a moment, they were close, closer than usual. The Poro squirmed between them, but neither moved.

“Jayce,” — Viktor said quietly, his tone neutral but his gaze intent. — “You are staring again.”

Jayce blinked, caught off guard by Viktor’s observation. The air between them felt heavier now. He straightened awkwardly, still holding the resistor, and glanced away.

“I, uh… wasn’t staring,” — Jayce said, his voice not quite as confident as usual.

Viktor’s expression softened just a fraction, the faintest hint of amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth. He leaned back slightly, shifting his weight onto his prosthetic as his golden eyes lingered on Jayce.

“You are a terrible liar,” — Viktor replied, his voice quieter now, almost teasing.

Jayce exhaled a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. — “Maybe. Or maybe you’re just too good at reading people.”

“That is possible,” — Viktor admitted, his smirk fading into something more thoughtful. He tilted his head slightly, studying Jayce as if trying to decipher an equation. — “But it is not often you are at a loss for words. I find it…interesting.”

Jayce’s pulse quickened under Viktor’s gaze, and he suddenly felt very warm in the already stuffy lab. — “You’ve got this way of throwing me off balance, you know that?”

Viktor raised an eyebrow. — “And here I thought you were the unshakable one.”

For a moment, silence fell between them, broken only by the faint hum of the outside world and the occasional chirp from the Poro, now happily chewing on its toy on the other side of the room. Jayce hesitated, then took a small step closer.

“Viktor,” — he began, his voice low, — “I don’t know if I’m just imagining this, but…”

“You are not,” — Viktor interrupted, his tone even, though there was a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes.

Jayce’s breath caught. Viktor rarely spoke so plainly, and hearing him admit it sent a rush of heat through Jayce’s chest. Slowly, he reached out, his fingers brushing Viktor’s forearm. Viktor didn’t pull away.

“Are you sure about this?” — Jayce asked, his voice barely above a whisper. — “Am I reading the signs correctly?”

“Yes” — Viktor broke the silence after a few long teasing seconds.

Jayce smiled, his heart pounding as he closed the remaining distance between them. The quiet hum of the lab seemed to fade into the background, leaving only the sound of their breaths, shallow and uneven. He lifted his hand, fingers trembling slightly as he lightly cupped Viktor’s jaw. Viktor’s skin was cool under his touch, his breath hitching in response.

Viktor’s hand hovered uncertainly at Jayce’s waist before finally settling there, his grip hesitant but firm. Jayce felt a shiver run through him at the contact, his chest tightening as he took in the vulnerability in Viktor’s gaze.

Slowly, he leaned in, his thumb brushing along the sharp line of Viktor’s cheekbone. When their lips met, it was tentative at first, as if testing the waters. Viktor tensed briefly, but then he relaxed, leaning into the kiss with a quiet sigh.

Jayce’s hand slid to the back of Viktor’s neck, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened. Viktor’s fingers tightened at Jayce’s waist, drawing him in as if the space between them was unbearable. It was unlike anything Jayce had expected… soft, electric, and somehow grounding all at once.

Viktor’s other hand came up, tentative at first, brushing against Jayce’s chest before resting there. Jayce could feel Viktor’s pulse through his fingertips, quick and unsteady, mirroring his own. Their movements grew less cautious, lips parting as the kiss turned warmer, more urgent.

Jayce’s free hand found Viktor’s waist, his thumb brushing over the fabric of his coat. Viktor responded with a quiet noise in his throat. He pressed closer, feeling the cool edge of Viktor’s prosthetic against his leg, a detail that grounded the moment in reality despite the overwhelming intensity.

“Jayce,” — Viktor murmured against his lips, the sound low and breathless.

“Yeah?” — Jayce replied, his voice rough as he barely pulled back.

Viktor didn’t answer, instead tugging him back into another kiss, hungrier this time. Jayce’s hand slid down to Viktor’s hip, fingers gripping just hard enough to make Viktor’s breath hitch again.

And then—

The door creaked open.

Jayce and Viktor broke apart with the speed of two guilty schoolchildren, Jayce stumbling back into a stool, nearly knocking it over. Viktor turned sharply, his hand darting to adjust the nearest instrument as if he’d been working all along.

“Ah, there you are!” — Heimerdinger’s cheerful voice filled the lab as he bustled in, utterly unaware of the thick air of awkwardness hanging between them.

“I’ve come back for our little friend,” — Heimerdinger continued, oblivious to the tension. — “The council meeting finished ahead of schedule, and I believe it’s time for a walk, and perhaps a treat!”

Jayce cleared his throat, his face burning as he tried to compose himself. — “Oh, uh, great! He’s… been fine. No trouble at all.” — He shot Viktor a quick glance, but Viktor was steadfastly avoiding his gaze, his attention fixed on the tools in front of him.

Heimerdinger crouched down to scoop up the Poro, who chirped happily at the sight of its owner. — “Ah, there you are, my mischievous little friend! I trust you didn’t cause too much chaos?”

The Poro squeaked innocently as it nuzzled against Heimerdinger’s face.

“No chaos,” — Jayce said quickly, flashing a nervous smile.— “Everything was… under control.”

“Splendid!” — Heimerdinger said, cradling the Poro like a prized treasure. He glanced around the lab, seemingly pleased with what he saw. —“And you’ve made excellent progress, I see. Such dedicated young minds, you make me proud!”

“Thank you, Professor,” — Viktor said smoothly, though there was a slight stiffness to his tone.

Heimerdinger didn’t seem to notice. — “Well then, I won’t keep you from your work any longer. You’ve certainly earned some peace and quiet.” — He gave a final, beaming smile before heading toward the door, the Poro perched happily in his arms.

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving the lab in heavy silence once again.

Jayce exhaled a long breath, running a hand through his hair. —“That was…”

“Fortunate,” — Viktor finished, his voice dry but his cheeks faintly flushed.

Jayce turned to him, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. — “I thought he was never going to leave.”

Before Jayce could say anything else, Viktor leaned in, his lips brushing against Jayce’s in a quick, soft kiss. It was light, almost tentative, but enough to send a jolt of warmth through Jayce’s chest.

When they pulled away, Jayce smiled, his heart racing. —“I think we’re good,” he murmured.

Viktor’s lips curled into a soft smile. — “For now.”

#viktor #viktor arcane #arcane fanfic #jayce talis #jayce x viktor #jayvik

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