#I gave him fish hook earrings (:

[kala-mies]

Your fish dad loves you!

[igotanidea]

Superstition: Jason Todd x witch!reader

requested by anon because it's October!

***

For some reason, the world is always in danger on Tuesdays.

And the newest threat to the existence of the people involved a group of superheroes and vigilantes and even anti-heroes gathering together to discuss the best way to tackle it.

Familiar faces and new ones, arrived at one deeply hidden lair (not really), not causing any reasons for suspicions (again – not really).

Who would pay attention to various, spandex-clad people, climbing to one apartment in the suburbs through the doors and windows, from the ground, air and water, right? It was freaking Gotham after all, weirdest things have happened.

And she was definitely someone new.

He didn’t pay much attention to that girl.

But somehow he noticed how she stood in the back of the room, watching everyone instead of joining in the conversation. How she mostly stayed quiet while the gathered was discussing plans and methods to defeat the newest opponent, only now and then throwing some well-pointed argument.

She was weird with that watchful eyes, focused face, specific kind of humor, wearing unusual clothes, speaking in a manner that indicated she knew something no one else did.

And that smell, he couldn’t quite decipher.

What was it?

Sage? Lavender? Rosemary?

Who, out of normal people, smells like kitchen seasoning?!

But –

Out of it all, she was at least useful. Or so it seemed, otherwise Dick would not bring her out to this meeting in the first place.  

And hell, he wouldn’t let her know everyone’s identities.

Well – not everyone. Jason was pretty stubborn with keeping his signature helmet on. He was not risking a stranger to know too much about him. Always the one to keep his cards close to his chest.

“Who is she?” he muttered to Dick, his voice distorted by the metal

“Her name is-“

“I don’t care about her name. What is she?”

“Huh?”

“Don’t make that face on me, Dickhead. You have aliens friends, robotic friends and turning-into-an-animal friends. What is she?”

“Oh, that!” Dick laughed, but then turned serious “I am not telling you that.”

Jason rolled his eyes. This was obviously a bait, and he was not some silly fish to rise to it.

“Fine. Don’t tell me.”

“You will have to- wait, what? You don’t want me tell you?” Dick’s face dropped a little

“Nope.”

“But-“

“I said nope.”

“Come on, Jas-“

“Don’t use my real name, idiot!”

“But I want to tell you!”

“A second ago you claimed that-“

“You are no fun.” Dick pouted like a five year old, crossed arms over his chest and after a moment of zero reaction from his brother walked away, probably to share how unfairly he had been treated.

***

She was a witch.

A freaking witch.

Without hair in her ears, warts, boils and hooked nose.

A witch!

Where was her cat? Her broom? Her – whatever else was a signature for that type of supernatural being.

“You might want to take it a little easier on me, you know?”

“Huh!?” Jason spun around only to notice she was now standing behind him with a soft face expression. “What are you-?”

“Oh, don’t you know that witch can read minds?”

“What now?” he blushed under the helmet on being called out on that, but obviously did not let it show. “Who gave you the permission to invade my head, witch!?” The last word was almost spitted with anger and venom dripping from the voice, followed by crossing arms that was supposed to be intimidating. However, much to his surprise she only chuckled. “Are you laughing at me now?!”

“Yes.”

“Careful there, harpy.” The second that word left his mouth he regretted it. First, she did not deserve to be judged so superficially and Jason should know better how painful it can be. Second, it showed that he was getting agitated and that was not the point. Third, fourth and fifth – she could drop him dead on the spot with her dark magic powers.

“Careful there, tin-head.”

Oh wow. She was mean.

“Or what?” he challenged

“Or I threw a curse at you.”

“And what?”

“Don’t test me.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Oh I bet, you’d be so happy, being able to boost to everyone who’d love to listen that you battled a witch that’s half your size, huh?”

“You don’t know me.” He scoffed, feeling a little offended and hurt.

“Well you don’t know me.”

Shit.

“What’s that scent you smell of?”

“Excuse me?!”

Idiot. At this point he felt like facepalming. So stupid trying to rectify the situation while simultaneously not wanting to say anything that would even resemble apology.

“The- ”

“It’s thyme. And verbena.”

“Why-?”

“It’s supposed to bring out luck and peace . And thyme brings out mental powers.”

“Hence the mind reading?”

“Oh, I was kidding about that. I cannot truly read minds. You were muttering to yourself and since I was standing close there was no way for me to not overhear.”

“So you are not-“

“A I’m -going-to-curse-you-with-pain-in-the-ass witch? No. I’m a little bit more reserved when it comes to that, but don’t tell anyone. I would be casted away from the clan.”

Despite himself he chuckled.

“So, what other discrepancies are there between you and the myths about the witch.”

“I’m not giving such secrets to just anyone, Hood.”

“I can respect that. Got my boundaries too.”

“Hence the helmet still on your face?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

“I can respect that.” She nodded, “The world can be awful when it comes to quick and superficial conclusions, right?”

His head snapped her direction. How come she was speaking freely all those words he was holding deep inside his heart. Why did it feel like she actually meant everything said and didn’t just throw around empty platitudes?

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Come on, you look at me like I’ve just murdered a cat for a dark ritual.”

“You can’t see my face. And I don’t like cats.”

“Sure not. Cause you are a dog person, right?”

“You’re being annoying.”

“And you’re being dramatic.”

God, he was hating her already.

***

Two weeks later, he was sitting in her apartment, helmet off, with her black cat on his lap, caressing the soft fur, observing carefully how Y/N was getting ready for the Valpurga Night, taking the weirdest clothes existing from the wardrobe. Judging by the style she had either robbed a homeless man or a prank store.

“Seriously this is how you guys are dressing?” he pointed out at the black robe and a pointy hat.

“What? No! Of course not, are you crazy? This is my Halloween costume. No respectable witch will ever wear a hat like this. God, last time the chairwoman of the assembly had a channel costume and three sets of pearls. Show off she was…”

Jason laughed despite himself.

“You’ve got a Halloween costume six months in advance?”

“Stop laughing or I’ll-“

“Curse me, yeah, yeah, I know the drill.” He raised hands in surrender, causing the cat to meow desperately, demanding more touches. “See, your cat likes me, why can’t you?”

“That cat happened to swallow too much catnip when I was preparing my potions earlier today. He’s not a credible judge at the moment.”

“I’d rather take his judgment over yours.”

Y/N flicked her wrist and the blanket on the bed wrapped over Jason turning him into a giant burrito.

“Seriously, this is the best you can do? Claiming to be powerful and –“

A second later he was levitating by the ceiling, heads down, not liking it at all.

***

One month later he found himself having a panic attack during the night. All the memories from the pit, the pain, the hurt, the trauma came back flooding him like a freaking tsunami.

The last thing he wanted was seeing and hearing things that did not exist.

A lunatic that was what he was.

And there was only one person he knew who was familiar with supernatural things and knew how to play with minds and reality with her skills.

“Y/N.” he stuttered to the phone, her name the only lifeline connecting him with the remnants of crumbling reality.

“I’m on my way.”

Of course she already knew what was happening.

Of course she was already coming to him, to save him from himself.

Ten minutes later, the window creaked and she just flew inside effortlessly, discarding her cloak on the floor and rushing to his side.

“The doors are out there, you weirdo” he stuttered, hating that she saw him in this vulnerable state. “You had to make a show, didn't you?”

“Though it could lift your spirits.” She muttered, without a hint of tease in her voice “and speaking of spirits, can I?” her hands lingered around his head.

“Please…”

Softly and slowly, she placed both palms on his temples, whispering something that might have been a spell, incantation or that curse she was threatening him with since the moment they met.

Regardless of what she chose to place on him, it seemed to work. The fog on his brain slowly dispersed and he almost felt the fear and anxiety floating away.

At least she was useful.

“What- what did you-?”

“hush. Quiet. Here, take that” she handed him a little vial.

“what’s that?”

“A poison. What do you think, jar-head? It; a potion. It will strengthen you.”

“I don’t need strengthening-“

“Just take it.” Her smaller hands wrapped around his, forcing him to keep the bottle. “Please.” For a moment their gazes met and the time seemed to stop. “I can’t risk having you waking me up in the middle of the night again, right?”

“Waking you? Thought you were out casting spells and running naked over the meadow?”

“Not really. It's the incoming moon phase. It’s the time for white magic, and we both know I’m a dark witch right?”

They both chuckled softly. She was as dark as Jason was lenient towards criminals.

“Stay?” he asked softly

“Yeah, I’ll stay.”

***

He didn’t plan it.

Definitely not, but how was he supposed to help being drawn towards that weirdo that seemed to shake up his world? How could he resist the pull towards the otherworldly and the only person that seemed to understand him completely?

The first time she saw him use the all caste he almost noticed the admiration in her eyes.

The first time he observed her actually casting curses and using her powers he felt like he could jump into fire for her.

And it was not because of a spell.

He was –

Oh boy….

A vigilante and a witch.

A walking zombie and a mistress of spirits and supernatural.

What could possibly go wrong?

[novascharms]

teach please me — tutor!reader x soccer player!rafe

reader's life is meticulously planned, from high school to becoming president of the country—she knows exactly where she's headed and every step to get there. but her airtight plan hits a snag when the principal ropes her into tutoring rafe cameron, the school’s star soccer player, who’s failing algebra and at risk of being benched next season. the team needs him on the field, and reader needs the principal’s glowing recommendation to secure her spot at her dream school. balancing her ambitious goals with rafe’s chaotic charm might just throw her perfectly crafted plan off track.

word count — 2.0 chapter index — prev. chap. — next chap. a.n — sorry in advance lol DOUBLE UPDATE THOUGH masterlist

ten

friday february 7th

“i think we covered that part in the google doc, right?” you murmured, scrolling through the endless document on your laptop. the screen’s faint glow reflected on your glasses as you squinted at the tiny text.

“is it the budget allocation?” gisele, the student treasurer, asked, glancing up from her own laptop, her fingers still clicking through tabs. “like, everything surrounding the budget? because i did work on that a bit, so i might’ve done it. my laptop’s just being kind of weird right now.” her tone was distracted as she fiddled with a stubborn cursor.

“y/n?” danny, your vice president, called, breaking your focus. you looked up, brow furrowing as you noticed him, gisele, and annie, the secretary, all turning their attention to the glass wall on the left.

you followed their gaze and spotted your friends outside in the hallway. ivy was tapping her watch with exaggerated urgency while devon held her phone up, the screen flashing a clear reminder: you were ten minutes late for lunch.

“uh, okay. let’s wrap up,” you said quickly, your words stumbling over themselves as you closed the document. “if we didn’t cover the allocation, i’ll handle it… whenever. anyway, see you guys next week?” you forced a smile, trying not to let the stress seep through.

danny nodded, already packing his things. “yep, see you.”

“bye!” gisele called cheerfully.

“next week!” annie added with a wave.

you slid your laptop into your bag, slinging it over your shoulder as you hurried out. “hello!” you sang, pushing the door open with a grin. “sorry, i’m late.”

hazel immediately hooked her arm around yours, her touch warm and grounding. “totally fine, but we’re dealing with an absolute tragedy,” she said dramatically. ivy jogged ahead, spinning around to walk backward, her expression exaggerated.

“devon got a seven on that philosophy paper about perfection,” ivy announced, her tone as dire as if she were reporting a global catastrophe.

your brows shot up in surprise, and you turned to devon, who was covering her face with both hands. “what happened?” you asked, concern lacing your voice. “philosophy’s your favorite class.”

devon groaned, dragging her hands down her face in frustration. “i didn’t have time to do it properly. i literally worked on it like, minutes before the deadline.” her grimace was both sheepish and annoyed.

hazel chuckled softly, shaking her head. “guys, a seven isn’t that bad.” her voice was light, trying to soothe devon’s obvious distress.

she wasn’t wrong—it wasn’t bad at all. but for your group, used to skating the upper edge of every grading curve, it felt like a glaring anomaly.

"true," ivy added quickly, as though trying to lessen the blow. "hazel and i got an 8.5." she gave a little shrug.

as the group burst into the common area, you all found an empty spot to settle in. ivy dropped into a chair with exaggerated flair while hazel and devon slid into seats across from you.

"how much did you get?" devon asked suddenly, her voice curious but a little wary.

you shrugged, fishing your phone out of your bag. "i didn’t even know we got the results already," you admitted, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear as you tapped into your school app. navigating to the grades section, you waited for the page to load, the spinning wheel on your screen adding a small sense of anticipation to the moment.

the room filled with the low hum of chatter around you, but your friends stayed quiet, leaning in slightly as they waited for your result to appear.

it all happens so fast that your brain can’t keep up. you glance up absently, just catching a glimpse of rafe as he passes by. his shoulders are stiff, tension radiating from every inch of him, his phone gripped tightly in his hand. a fresh black eye, dark and swollen, blooms angrily on his face, stark against his skin.

you barely process it. your gaze drops back to your phone, where your grade stares back at you: a perfect 10.

"i got a—" the words die in your throat as you look up again, frowning. your friends glance at you, confused as they pull out their lunches, but you don’t have the words to explain.

you toss your phone onto the table and push to your feet, already rushing out of the common area. "rafe!" you call after him as he disappears into the hallway. your friends’ voices follow you, but you ignore them, your focus fixed entirely on him. you’d explain later.

he doesn’t stop, doesn’t turn, just grunts over his shoulder, "not now." his voice is harsh, clipped—nothing like the easy, teasing tone he’d used over dinner with his parents a few nights ago.

"yes, now," you insist, quickening your pace until you’re jogging to catch up. you reach for his arm, grabbing it firmly, and he stops, though his whole body hums with resistance. "what’s wrong? what happened to your face?" your eyes scan the bruise, the deep purples and blues spreading in a jagged line across his cheekbone. it looks fresh, the kind of pain you can almost feel just by looking at it.

"nothing happened," he snaps, jerking his arm free and moving again. his tone is so dismissive, so cold, it cuts deeper than you expect.

but you don’t give up. stepping in front of him, you hold out your hands, planting yourself in his path. "rafe, that looks bad. did you ice it?" your voice softens, concern lacing every word as your eyes flick back to the bruise. you know it wasn’t there yesterday. you would’ve noticed.

his jaw tightens, and he lets out a sharp, frustrated sigh. "god, you never listen, do you?" his voice is raised, though not quite a yell, and the edge in it makes you flinch. the sting of his words sits heavy in your chest, but you bite down hard on your bottom lip, refusing to let the tears brimming in your eyes fall.

for a moment, his expression shifts—his eyes soften, guilt flickering there—but it vanishes as quickly as it appeared. his face hardens, and he tries to move past you again, brushing you aside like you’re not standing right in front of him.

"no," you say firmly, shoving at his chest—not hard enough to move him, but enough to make him stop.

before he can argue, you grab his wrist and yank him toward the nearest classroom. he protests, his voice low and angry, but you don’t let go. the door creaks open as you push it, dragging him inside and letting it close with a soft thud behind you.

the air feels heavier now, quiet but thick with unspoken tension. rafe exhales sharply, his frustration palpable, but he doesn’t pull away. not yet. you steel yourself, determined not to let him shut you out again.

"tell me what happened," you demand, arms crossed tightly as you plant yourself in front of the door, your posture daring him to try and push past you. the determination in your stance feels flimsy against the weight of his indifference, but you hold your ground anyway.

"i walked into a door," he says flatly, perched on the edge of the desk with his feet casually propped on the chair. the sight of him, so nonchalant with that faint bruise blooming on his face, makes irritation prickle at your skin.

"rafe, who did that to you? why are you so angry? just tell me what happened," you plead, the words tumbling out in a rush as you try to chip away at the fortress he’s built around himself.

"no." his voice is clipped, cold, like a door slamming shut.

"rafe—"

"i said no." he’s standing now, his movements sharp as he strides toward the door. but you’re still there, still unmoving, still stubbornly waiting for the truth.

"move. right now," he orders, his voice low and firm.

"not until you tell me who did that," you insist, anger curling around your words.

"a door," he repeats, jaw tightening.

"rafe," you snap, your patience fraying.

"i don’t want to fucking talk about it!" he explodes, the sudden intensity of his voice reverberating through the room like a storm breaking.

"don’t yell at me!" you yell back, startled by his outburst, the sharpness in his tone cutting deeper than you expected.

he exhales roughly, dragging his fingers through his hair as he turns away, muttering under his breath. "oh my… fucking—"

"and stop cursing at me," you cut in sharply, arms crossing again as you glare at him.

he lets out a bitter scoff, a smile curling on his lips—one that’s anything but kind. "any more requests?"

"yes," you say, your voice steady as you meet his heated gaze. "tell me what happened."

"no," he growls, stepping closer. "now move, or i’ll move you." the warning in his tone is clear, but so is your refusal to back down.

"stop being like this," you blurt out, your chest tightening as the tension between you grows unbearable.

his eyes narrow, his voice sharp and cutting. "how am i being? huh? how the fuck am i being? exactly like you’ve been all week?"

the accusation leaves you reeling, and you frown, searching his face for the version of him you recognize—the one who wasn’t like this, who didn’t look at you like he was trying to break through you. "what are you talking about? i’ve been nothing but nice to you, and if it’s about the bonfire, i told you i was on my period—"

"yeah, and that’s fucking bullshit!" he shouts, his voice thunderous as he stares you down. "your flo app sent you a notification tuesday. you got your period wednesday."

the words hit like a slap, your eyes widening as your stomach drops. "you checked my phone?"

he shakes his head, scoffing bitterly. "i didn’t check your phone. i saw the notification pop up. and judging by the look on your face, i’m right."

he is right, and you hate that he knows it. you nod slowly, caught, but there’s a defiance in you that refuses to let him win this argument. "fine. i lied. whatever. i just—"

"no, no, not whatever," he snaps, his voice laced with frustration. "what happened that night? you don’t think i notice how weird you’ve been acting around me?"

his eyes burn into yours, hurt flashing behind the anger, and you’re standing so close you can feel the tension radiating off him. you’re paralyzed, unsure how to explain yourself, how to navigate the landmine you’ve stepped on.

"i’m not. i’m not being weird," you try weakly, your voice faltering. "nothing happened that night or any night."

"i heard you," he says, softer this time, but the edge in his tone is unmistakable. "i heard you on the phone sunday."

your mind races, scrambling to piece together what he might’ve overheard. the memory clicks into place—your conversation with hazel.

"and i don’t even need to ask if it was about me, do i?" he continues quietly, the bitterness in his voice replaced by something more vulnerable. "you promised someone you wouldn’t get close to me?"

you exhale, your shoulders slumping under the weight of his words. "rafe—"

"don’t fucking lie to me," he interrupts, his voice sharp, loud and unrelenting.

the heat of the argument builds again, the anger and frustration spilling over in waves. "stop cursing at me!" you scream, your voice cracking under the strain.

"stop pushing me away!" he roars back, his words echoing in the charged air. "why won’t you tell me what the fuck happened, huh? why are you acting so weird? why are you being so distant? and why won’t you just let me all the way in anymore?"

the silence that follows is deafening, the weight of his words settling over both of you like a suffocating blanket. he’s breathing hard, his chest rising and falling with the effort, and you’re frozen, your mind spinning.

his gaze locks with yours, raw and unguarded, and for the first time, the fight drains out of you. you don’t have an answer—not one that will satisfy him, not one that will make any of this better. you just stare back, feeling the enormity of everything unsaid pressing between you like a wall you can’t climb.

chapter index — prev. chap. — next chap. taglist — @rafeysworldim19 @my-name-is-baby @pogueprincesa  let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist & interact with post to remain tagged <3

[sorchathered]

Got my sights set on you- Jake Seresin x reader

Pairing- Jake “Hangman” Seresin x reader

Warnings-language, drinking, Jake being a massive flirt

A/N- I don’t have much of a summary for this, just clearing out my wips for you all and found this little gem I wrote last summer! Hope you enjoy!

———————————————————————————

If there was one thing you knew about Jake Seresin it was that he was a massive flirt. Men, women, non-binary, didn’t much matter your gender he was a tease and everyone knew it. Lately he’d set his sights on you, and he was relentless. You had to admit you liked the attention, and dropping him down a peg with snappy comments was always entertaining. You enjoyed the banter between the two of you, it had been fun and games until one night you noticed another girl from the bar had seemed to catch his attention, pulling out all the stops for her instead of sitting and chatting you up. It shouldn’t have bothered you, it was just a game right? Neither of you had ever made a move and he had every right to talk to whoever he pleased. Rooster could see through all your bullshit, sidling up next to you as he followed your eyeline to Jake and the brunette that seemed to have him enthralled in conversation.

“So Vixen, when you gonna admit to yourself that this little thing you’ve got going with Hangman is more than a schoolgirl crush?” You glared up at him and opened your mouth to snap at him but it died in your throat when you saw the sympathetic look on his face, you hated that he could see how transparent you were. “It was just a crush, really, I thought I just enjoyed the back and forth but… shit rooster what am I supposed to do here? It’s Hangman we’re talking about, he doesn’t do relationships, and in the end I’ll just get hurt so what’s the point?” You cradled your head in your hands against the bar top as Bradley patted your shoulder. “Kid I hate to be the one to burst your doom bubble but if you gave that man the time of day he wouldn’t know what to do with himself. I've seen him when he’s just looking for a hook up and that’s not what this is with you. He may be chatting that girl up but he won’t take her home, in fact I don’t think he’s taken anyone home in months, most of the time he just moons over you. I bet if you walked over there right now and told him to take you home he’d be putty in your hands, you wield more power than you know honey.”

You rolled your eyes at him, there was no way in hell he was into you like that, but as rooster passed you a shot of tequila you glanced back at Jake and he was looking right at you. Fuck it, you were going for it. Tossing back the shot you squared your shoulders and swayed your hips as you walked towards him, he wasn’t paying a bit of attention to the girl talking his ear off anymore, eyes completely focused on you. “Hey Vix, haven’t seen you all night-“ he said as you pressed yourself between him and the brunette, shock crossing his features as you waved her off.

“Uh we were talking!”

“And now you’re not, see how that works?”

You hit her with an icy glare and blessedly little miss tag chaser seemed to take the hint, off to lick her wounds with god knows who. That wasn’t your business or your problem. Right now you need to keep the momentum going and get your man.

“So a little birdie told me that I should shoot my shot, how about it, Seresin? You talk a big game, wanna take me home?” For once in your life Jake Seresin was at a loss for words, mouth opening and closing like a fish, completely in shock.

“Uh-I- yeah-yeah absolutely. Sweet Jesus darlin’ please don’t fuck with me, I don’t know if my heart can take it.” The cocksure grin is back, but you can tell he’s still unsure, so you slide even closer and press your lips to his. It starts out completely innocent, just reassurance that you are actually into him, but you quickly remember who you’re dealing with and Jake Seresin certainly isn’t all talk, sliding one hand into your hair and the other into the back pocket of your jeans, running his tongue along your lips as you give him entrance, letting him make out with you right here in the middle of the bar, where all your coworkers can see.

You can hear whoops and whistles from your friends and it breaks you both apart, taking in deep breaths between your giggles. “Still up for taking me home?” You whisper as you smooth your hands through his golden hair, and where you expect more sexual innuendo and banter you’re left with something more. He smiles down at you and kisses your nose, the look he’s giving is melting you from the inside out, maybe Rooster was right; maybe this wasn’t just fun and games. “I can definitely take you home sugar, but I don’t want just a hook up from you, I’m thinking tomorrow you let me take you on a real date, you deserve to be treated to all the bells and whistles baby girl.” If you gave him the chance he’d wife you up on the spot if he was honest, but he’d give you some time before he told you all the ideas he had for the future.

You looked a little shell shocked at that, sure he’d been flirty but he’d never once made you think he was interested in more than a night or two.

“I can see the wheels turning in that pretty head y/n, don’t overthink it baby, just let me show you how good I can be.”

And he was, in fact, very good.

———————————————————————————

Tagging- @roosterforme @shanimallina87 @jessicab1991 @honeytwrites @heavenssins @dizzybee03 @kissmecaitie @sio-ina-bottle @sunsetsimpsblog @mynameismckenziemae @trickphotography2 @seitmai @callsigns-haze

[imagine-darksiders]

Drabble: You have to persuade Death to come to a party, but you have one caveat that you haven't broached with him yet; there isn't a chance in Hell you're letting him come with you unless he has a bath first.

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

“The Mastersons have invited us over for a party tonight.”

From behind the pages of a tattered newspaper you fished out of the recycling, Death raises his eyes, peering disinterestedly at you over an article regarding Haven City’s most eligible, angelic bachelors.

“Us?” he parrots, giving the paper a sharp rustle and flipping the page, allowing his gaze to wander back to the obituaries. The armchair in the corner of your bedroom looks comically small with a Horseman lounging against its decorative cushions like a very large, very gloomy cat, but you know from experience that Death far prefers it to any other seat in your house.

A strategic choice, you presume. It’s by the window – a good vantage point for spotting anyone who might be traipsing up the path to your front door. And it’s in your bedroom – a better vantage point for keeping an eye on his favourite.

Favourite… It isn’t a title that you’d claimed yourself, rather one foisted upon you by the other Horsemen.

Whether they meant favourite human or favourite sentient being, you’ve yet to discover. But the mere fact that the most ancient and powerful Nephilim and force of nature to have ever existed is reclined docilely in your armchair says more than words ever could.

“Fraid so,” you reply from your spot at the vanity, feeding an earring into place and turning your head to do the other one, “They’ve been sending invitations for months, but I’ve declined them all. Gave the excuse that you were off world.”

“Good girl,” Death grunts, sinking further into the chair, “Just say the same again.”

“Well, that’s the thing. This time was different.” Your eyes flick towards him in the mirror. Tread carefully. “This time, Lady Masterson herself showed up at my door with an invitation, saying that even if you can’t make it, I should come by myself.”

“I imagine her face was a picture after you declined yet again,” he chuckles smoothly, turning the page.

A single eyebrow slides gracefully up your forehead. “And what makes you think I declined?”

In the corner of your eye, you spot the white of Death’s bone mask inch slowly into view above the paper. You know that gleam in his eye, the spark of amber flaring dangerously for just a moment in the reflection before it recedes.

“You plan to go by yourself?” he asks lightly, though you know from experience that the question is anything but light.

Unable to help it, you let out an abrupt snort and wave a hand at yourself, retorting, “Why do you think I’ve been getting dressed up for the last hour?”

With his usual indifference, he ignores the question, though whether he hadn’t considered it or because he doesn’t want you to think he has, you couldn’t say. “… And where is this… Lady’s party, hmm?” he counters instead.

You take a deep breath. The line is cast, now you just need him on the hook.

“It’s at this big house well outside the city,” you inform him, “Anyone who’s anyone will be there. Seems she hasn’t forgotten her status from the old world. People remember her family name. Supposedly there’s like a hundred guests.”

“That many?”

A nibble… But you need a bite.

“No weapons allowed either,” you continue blithely, “They’ll be checking at the door, so I can’t bring that nice dagger you got for me.”

He doesn’t have to say a word for you to know that he’s translating things in his mind. ‘No weapons’ to a Horseman is categorically synonymous with ‘no protection.’

“… When does it begin?”

Aha! Your finger glides over the row of lipsticks you’ve set up to try.

Gracefully, you swoop down and select the darkest shade of red - perfect for an evening gala.

“In about an hour,” you say, slipping off the golden lid with a soft ‘click,’ “Should take about forty-five minutes to get there on foot. Unless I can hitch a ride with an angel on their-“

“-You’re not seriously going?”

Your hand pauses in front of your mouth, only your upper lip stained red like sweet sangria.

Sweeping your gaze over to the side, you catch sight of Death’s dark reflection in the mirror, and force yourself to restrain a smile.

The paper has been discarded, abandoned on the floor near his boots, and the Horseman himself is tipped forward in the seat, hands braced stiffly on the armrests of your chair as if he means to launch himself out of it.

“And why wouldn’t I go?” you posit, returning your attention to the lipstick, “It’s a very prestigious event.

“And she invited you?”

You blurt out a mock-offended scoff. “Okay, first of all; Ouch? Second, she invited us both. But she seemed perfectly happy when I said I’d attend without you.”

“But why would she want you there?” Averting his gaze to the window, he glares out at the fading light, eyes narrowed to searing, golden lines behind his mask. “What’s she after…?”

“I believe it’s called networking,” you quip, “No doubt she expects me to introduce her to you, at some point.”

Now it’s the Horseman’s turn to scoff, abhorred by the very idea of being a prop in some unknown human’s bid for infamy. “It seems the perfect opportunity for an ambush.”

“Oh, she’d love that.” Popping your lips together to even out the lipstick, you finally deem the look complete and give your reflection an approving nod. “It’d be the talk of Haven if there was a murder attempt at her party.”

“… I don’t like it.”

“Death doesn’t like parties.” You slot the lid of the lipstick back into place with a satisfying ‘click’ before slipping the golden tube into a small, sequin back laying open on the vanity. “Shocker …”

"...." His silence is as loud as his voice sometimes. He's unimpressed, in a word.

Just as you push yourself up from the vanity, checking your clutch and turning towards the door, you promptly find your nose just inches from a pale, sunken chest. You hadn't seen him move in the mirror, but you're no stranger to how swift Death can be when the need calls for it.

He stands in front of you now, arms folded neatly like a blockade in the middle of your bedroom.

"And supposing I were to... say... forbid you from leaving this house?" he posits, hiking up his posture to its fullest extent.

"Well," mirroring his stance, you reply, "First I'd be extremely cross with you."

"I'm sure you'd find it in your heart to forgive me."

"Oh, no doubt," you return just as easily, a sly glint catching in the light of your eyes, "But before that time, I'd be pretty upset.... So upset, in fact, that I might just have to give my best friend in the whole Universe a call and ask him to come cheer me up."

It's the dirtiest, most underhanded tactic you have at your disposal, and you know it works the moment Death's hands bunch into tight fists at his sides.

"Is that a threat?" he asks coolly.

Tilting your head to one side, you pretend to gaze thoughtfully up at the ceiling. "Come to think of it, I bet Strife would love to come to a party...."

And just like that, Death's resolve finally cracks.

Throwing his arms up in exasperation, he scoffs, biting out a single word through gritted teeth. "Fine."

"Fine?" you return innocently.

"Fine!" he barks, "Fine, you win. I'll accompany you this evening. But-!" And here, he raises a finger and points it very deliberately in your face. "Don't think I don't know what you've been doing."

Muscling back another grin - one of many this evening - you simply blink at him with a flat look, and blurt, "You can't come."

And that's enough to throw him completely off his tracks.

Suddenly, you've subverted his expectations. Now he isn't sure what you wanted after all.

Good.

Death clears his throat, unfolding his arms to let them hang uncertainly at his sides. "And why is that?" he asks, cocking his head at you.

Now comes the real test. The reason you began this little charade in the first place in the hopes that you can bend the almighty Horseman to your will with just a little tit for tat.

Biting your lip, you blink up at him through your sweeping lashes, plastering a sweet smile across painted lips.

"You can't come," you start, watching him bristle before you give him your ultimatum, "Unless...."

Sharp, intelligent eyes narrow to thin slits. "Unless what?" he bites.

"Unless," you repeat, taking a breath, "You let me give you a bath."

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

I can't remember where I was going with this, just that I wanted to talk about Death being shmelly and not being allowed to go to a party with Y/n unless he agreed to clean himself up first lol.

[umbrella-show]

Fish Inside A Birdcage: Rule #4

Aimlessly wandering through the corridors of the Dark Citadel was a habit of yours. Through the night, whenever you couldn’t sleep, and through the day you roamed throughout the stronghold. 

You have every single detail memorized, every banner, every dark chocolate tile, every small detail that could easily be missed to the common eye. 

As repetitive as your technique to pass the time was, it was all you had. These walls were all you’ve known. 

It wasn’t always like that, but you can’t remember when it wasn’t. You were stuck here. You had no clue what happened outside of the kingdom. The citadel had no windows for you to see.

The only idea you could get of the outside world was from Dark Cacao himself. When he had time to spare with you, you would always ask him what was happening in the kingdom. While he gave you little insight of what affairs were happening outside the citadel, he did have plenty of stories about the dangers that lurked throughout. It was mostly what he talked about whenever you’d ask about the outside world.

And you believed him. You believed his every word. 

You didn’t have a reason to go outside. It was safe here. Safe from the monsters and ones that want to hurt you. 

As much as you are a little curious about the outside world, all you’ve heard about the outside world was how dangerous it was. You only have Dark Cacao to inform you about the world. To guide you through this life. He’s the only one you could go to for any type of information. 

So, you’ll stay in this stronghold, faithfully by his side.

“You should be in bed, child.”

Dark Cacao’s voice was stern, yet held a hint of warmth as he lightly scolded you. You silently walked behind him, your head hung low. You looked down at the deep purple carpet under your feet that silenced your footsteps, observing the patterns woven delicately into the silk.

His scolding fell deaf to your ears. After all, you had heard it a million times before. You didn’t really care too much about getting proper sleep during the night. You just wanted to move around. To explore the Citadel. Even if you have every detail burned into your memory with how much you do this. Even if, everytime, nothing’s different.

“I have told you, I do not like this sleepwalking habit of yours. You need proper rest.”

You slowly nodded your head as you felt Dark Cacao’s expectant gaze on you. You didn’t look up at him, preferring to keep your head pointed towards the floor.

“Are you listening, child?”

You hummed softly in affirmation as the banners on the walls suddenly caught your attention. You aimlessly continued to walk forward before you bumped into Dark Cacao’s back. He had stopped walking and was peering at you over his shoulder. You stumbled back a little before staring up at him. You tried to read his expression, to try and get some sort of hint of what he was feeling. However, you couldn't find anything. His hardened face gazed back at you, unwavering as he turned around. 

You broke eye contact and looked to the ground instead, his hard gaze causing your chest to feel heavy with guilt. You weren’t sure whether it was guilt for continuing your habit he has explicitly told you to stop, or for not being able to keep eye contact with him at all. You weren’t really sure why you were feeling this way in the first place. You rarely felt guilty about disobeying his orders. It’s not like you could do much but sleep, eat, and walk while being practically caged in the bastion.

You felt his hand hook under your chin and raise your head for your eyes to meet his. His cold eyes bore into yours although you could have sworn you saw his eyes soften as he glanced at your face. You only blankly stared up at him, the feeling of guilt seeping deeper into your chest. You couldn't tell if he noticed or not, his face unwavering.

“Why do you disobey me? I only want you to get proper sleep yet you never seem to stay in bed.”

“I-I’m just not tired.” 

You softly responded, frowning slightly. Your response only caused Dark Cacao to sigh. His hand left your chin and instead grasped yours. He gently began to pull you towards the direction of your bedroom, keeping you in sight. You were surprised by the sudden touch. Dark Cacao never really showed much affection to you, other than the rare occurring hugs he gave you when you were feeling sad.

Nevertheless, you followed him. His hand holding yours felt comforting. You pressed closer against his arm and held his hand with both of your own. He seemed to be surprisingly fine with this. He even wrapped his arm gently around your shoulder, pulling you against his side. You closed your eyes and leaned against him, feeling his footsteps slow to allow you to comfortably keep up. 

“Let's get you back to bed.”

You raised no objections and only let out a low hum. This time, you would listen to his orders and do as he said. You would only continue to hope tomorrow would have something more eventful in store for you. You were only hoping however, but it was the least you could do. It’s not like you could ever leave anyways.

(Idk what this really was I kinda just based some of this fic off a song.)

[novelmonger]

I wasn't expecting it to take this long, but after a million distractions, I'm back to going through the LotR audio commentaries and taking note of any interesting tidbits I haven't heard before.

Please enjoy my notes on the RotK design team commentary with Richard Taylor, Tania Rodger, Grant Major, Alan Lee, John Howe, Dan Hennah, and Chris Hennah:

They had to make Deagol's ears out of waterproof gelatin rather than latex because he was going to fall in the water, and the normal latex ears would have come off. I guess they must have done the same any other time a Hobbit got submerged, but they didn't say that.

The fish that Gollum eats at the beginning is made from some kind of edible gelatin so he could actually bite into it. They also had another prop fish that wasn't edible that they gave Andy Serkis to keep at the end XD

The little stone hollow thing where Frodo and Sam are sleeping for their first scene in the movie was a set they built with a removable back wall so they could get a camera in to shoot it from the back as well as the front. Why did I never think of that before?

There were a couple of extra shots they needed of Orthanc in the background to finish up the movie, but they hadn't managed to get the footage from the miniatures (and I guess the miniatures were gone by that point? idk). So they took one of the model collectibles Weta had made and took some photos of it out in the parking lot XD

Whoooooaaaa! Okay, so Alan Lee talks about how, in legends, they say that you have to kill a wizard three times for him to stay dead. And Saruman dies "three times" - first he's stabbed, then he's impaled, then he's drowned. So Saruman is dead dead. Dare I say it? This is...I think this is a better death than the one in the book ._.

They even put carvings on the crossbeams underneath the seats of the chairs in Edoras! You are never ever going to see them, but that was their dedication to making everything feel authentic. That's what sets this apart from so many fantasy movies and shows made these days.

Red in the costumes is meant to suggest royalty. That's why Aragorn, Boromir, Theoden, and Theodred all have red in their costumes - as well as Bilbo and Frodo! You're meant to look at someone wearing red and unconsciously think, "there's something regal about them."

John Howe points out that you probably wouldn't ever reforge a sword like they do with Narsil, at least not in the sense of putting the pieces back together, because it wouldn't be as strong as it was originally. (You could melt it down and start over again, of course.) But, he reminds us, these are the Elves, and it's more of a symbolic thing anyway.

The great hall in Minas Tirith was inspired by Charlemagne's chapel (and Byzantine architecture was one of the main influences on the design of Gondor in general).

The statue of the king in Ithilien was made out of polystyrene, which you would think would be pretty light, but it was so huge it was actually very heavy. They had to transport it to the location in three pieces: the base, the body, and the head. And to lift one on top of each other, they had to rig a sort of pulley system over the limb of a tree, using a four-wheel drive truck to pull it. But they discovered that the first truck wasn't getting enough traction, so they hooked a second truck up to it, and ended up pulling the first truck up into the air along with the statue!

They created fourteen new weapons just to put in the background of the armory in the scene where the Witch-King is getting ready for battle @_@

John Howe said that his inspiration for Minas Morgul was...getting his wisdom teeth pulled??? He describes a metal clamp digging into the perfectly healthy enamel of his tooth to pull it out, and draws a parallel to the metal pieces the orcs fitted to the top of the pristine white parapets, staining and violating them. Um...thanks, I could've done without that visual, John.

I can't believe I never thought about this before, but there's a little wooden roof over the pile of wood for the beacon that Pippin lights. The reasoning behind that is you need some kind of cover to keep the wood more or less dry for when it needs to be lit in an emergency. The beacon will burn away the wooden roof, but it can be replaced easily enough, and it's worth it to be able to quickly light the beacon.

A lot of the saddles they used were ordered from the Indian military, because they had a good, old-fashioned sort of look to them. Then they would add onto the saddles with things that would make them look distinctly Rohirric, rather than Indian.

Alan Lee's daughter worked on some of the figures in the doors of Minas Tirith!

John Howe goes off on this whole tangent about how there's no religion or religious structures in Middle-Earth, and why that might be, but the whole time I was just sitting there going, "...have you never read The Silmarillion????"

Because they had to make over a hundred suits of Gondorian armor, other than the hero suits, they couldn't make each one exactly the right size for the man who would wear it, so the casting department had to only get actors within a certain range of size. They also built the suits of armor with sliding pieces, so they could be somewhat fitted to different sizes.

The horses started out as being part of the art department's responsibility, but as time went on, there were just so many horses they had to keep track of (and the various liveries they would have to be fitted out with) that they had to make a separate horse department to oversee it all.

Because so much of the movie was filmed on-location, in some very remote locations, they had to make a sort of caravan of mobile repair stations that they could take with them. They had all the tools and crew necessary on hand wherever they went so they could repair broken props or ripped costumes, reapply makeup for gore and injuries, take nicks out of the edge of weapons.... It was really like moving an army around!

For the dream where the Evenstar breaks, they made a version of it that was five times bigger than normal, out of a very brittle resin. Then they made an oversized section of the floor and dropped it from a great height so it would completely shatter in a dramatic way like that.

Anduril was John Howe's design. He based it on a sword belonging to a friend of his in Germany, which to him is the ideal sword, the most beautiful sword. He also talked a bit about how Men were taller and bigger in the First and Second Ages, so their swords would have been longer.

John Howe: "Why do people criticize Tolkien for not developing his characters sufficiently? I cannot fathom that kind of criticism. I think it's done by people who don't read between the lines."

Richard Taylor said they had a lot of fun gathering up all the skulls after each take in the Paths of the Dead to put back up at the top so they could be poured down again. Apparently Viggo liked to gather them up and try to throw them at the crew members! "Many hours of skullduggery was to be had," as Richard put it XD

Apparently, they'd made dozens of really finely detailed silicone heads to be lobbed over the wall of Minas Tirith, but then all but one of them were stolen! So they had to quickly put together some crude latex ones to use in the shoot instead (one of which the mayor of Wellington threw). They didn't talk about this, but I'm assuming the one good head that was left is the one that gets a close-up. You have to wonder who out there was sitting around with a bunch of highly realistic latex severed heads in his basement or something....

While most of the siege towers are miniatures or CG, they built the top third of one and put it on tracks so they could move it up against the wall. They built the set with breakable ramparts for when the little drawbridge thing crashes down.

They had the same trouble in Minas Tirith that they did in Helm's Deep, with the battering ram being too heavy for the stunties to lift. But they never actually explained how they got around that problem, if it was the same solution or not :/ All they said was that they had replaceable panels in the doors, in case they were damaged by the battering ram.

In order to make Shelob's webs, they had to heat up two polymers and mix them together to make the stringy, sticky material. In order to mix them, they had to be heated up to 220 degrees C, but if they got up to 228 degrees, they would burst into flame @_@ After they were heated and mixed, they would dribble the mixture on top of a vat of water, where it would cool in spiderweb-like shapes. Then they would lift it out on a frame, and they could carefully place it on the set. One time, the polymers did burst into flame, and they were running out of fire extinguishers to put it out! O.O Eventually, they did call the fire department, who said they'd done everything the fire department would have done. They got the fire put out, but it was a nerve-wracking moment, because the room where they were making the webs was connected to the studio, so it could have been disastrous D:

Bernard Shaw apparently got the idea to do that whole bit where he knocks his sword against the row of spears when he saw the collection of spears all lined up in a row in the art department.

The "oil" that Denethor pours over himself and Faramir is a mixture of glycerin and water. (I always wonder about these things, so I'm really glad they mentioned it.)

When they were filming the pyre scene, they had a silicone dummy for Faramir on the burning pyre. Apparently somebody on the crew brought "David Wenham" a cup of coffee over because they thought he'd fallen asleep on the side of the set, only to discover that it was a dummy! XD

The horse rig they made for close-up work of people on horseback got affectionately nicknamed "the Phony Pony." The first day they brought it on set, Peter Jackson got up on it and "rode" the horse, making the whole crew laugh XD

One of the ideas that Peter Jackson came up with for the mumakil in a brainstorming session (which Richard Taylor says he's still not sure if PJ was serious about or not) was that they could suck up several riders in its trunk and then fire them out like bullets. I'm...really glad they didn't go with that, whether PJ was serious or not <_<

Alan Lee says that the first time he saw the dead mumakil that Weta made for the set, the body was hollow, and some of the crew had set up a TV inside it and were watching a rugby game XD

The last miniature they built for LotR was the Minas Tirith docks where the Corsair ships come in. It kept getting put off until almost the end of the shoot, so they only had five days to put it together! @_@

All of the dead horses are fake, of course, so Weta had to make them all. They were made of lightweight material, so each day you'd see the set dressers just kind of casually carrying in a whole dead horse and then picking one up from the battlefield afterwards like it's no big deal. They had to do a lot of repairs to the dead horses, because the legs and ears kept falling off or getting bent the wrong way XD

The stone Watchers in Cirith Ungol have Maori influence in their design. I wish they'd talked about that in more detail, but it was just mentioned in passing.

They were concerned about the various copies of the One Ring being stolen, so they kept it in a lunchbox that was labeled "Screws."

The scene where Frodo and Sam join the orc convoy was filmed on location up on a mountain, so they had to deal with a whole bunch of extras in extensive prosthetics and armor, which would make them sweat while they were moving around, but then when the camera wasn't rolling, it would be a challenge to keep them warm. The way they did most of the orcs was that they wore a rubber mask and then a helmet, and they would need to take them off at regular intervals so the actors could get some air. So in between takes, after the director called, "Cut!" there would also be a cry of, "Heads off!" That meant the dressers would have to rush into the crowd and quickly take off the extras' helmets and masks XD

Because the crew was committed to not damaging any of the flora and fauna in the places where they were filming, even in the location that became the plains of Mordor that Frodo and Sam struggle across, there were little flowers and moss that they wanted to protect (and it was a national park). So they would lay down carpets on the ground for people to walk on, so they wouldn't damage the plant life. I'm sure that made for a strange sight, Frodo and Sam struggling in tattered clothing over rocks and boulders, surrounded by perfectly ordinary rugs XD

To do the decapitation of the Mouth of Sauron, they had a headless dummy sitting there, and Viggo would swipe his sword where the head should be. Then Weta Digital put in the head afterwards.

The lava in Mount Doom was mostly a miniature (except for the set where Sean and Elijah did their part), made from methyl cellulose and other things to make it look like lava. They set it up on a table that they would tilt so it would flow down around the model boulders made from urethane.

Richard Taylor said that, at that time, no one had really done a very good CG bird, so he was especially pleased at how the eagles turned out.

There were about 400 people working in the art department total, and most of them had never worked in the film industry before! @_@

Ngila Dickson's philosophy for the Elves was that none of their "crowns" or headpieces would go upwards, but would fit close around their heads and then go down. That's one of those things I've subconsciously noticed all these years, but never really thought about before.

Apparently, a little bit of the graphite used on Aragorn's armor in the coronation scene kind of puffed out when he and Arwen go in for their kiss, and got on Arwen's dress D: And some well-meaning person tried to rub it off, but only succeeded in spreading it around further, thus ruining the dress. And most of the female characters only had one copy of each costume, because all except for Eowyn don't see battle and thus don't need different versions with varying amounts of wear and tear. They're just made to wear in one or two scenes of them looking pretty and walking through a room. But alas, that lovely green dress was ruined.

They didn't have much time with Sir Ian Holm, so they only had a week to get a mold of his face and make the old-age prosthetics for the Grey Havens. But then word came down that he didn't want to have prosthetics, so they were to just make him look old with makeup. They were really disappointed, but then on the day, Ian Holm saw the prosthetics sitting off in the corner and asked what it was. When they explained, he said it wasn't true, and insisted on them putting the prosthetics on instead.

One thing that was really impressed upon me during this whole commentary (over all three movies) was just how much love and joy all of the crew had for the project. Sometimes you watch a movie or read a book that really means a lot to you, that's changed your life, and you wonder if the people who made it fully grasp what a beautiful thing they've created. These people know. They were fully aware, from start to finish, that they were making something truly great and worthy of praise. And I think that's beautiful.

[alltheirdamn]

Couch Chronicles | One Shot

Frankie Morales x f!reader x Benny Miller

Summary: When you accidentally tell your boyfriend, Frankie, that you think his best friend is cute... he makes a plan. Rating: 18+ Explicit Word Count: 4.2k Warnings: strictly smut, established relationship, threesome, mmf dynamic, heavy kissing, a stupid amount of neck kissing, nipple play, oral (f! and m! receiving), fingering, choking, rough sex, cum eating, deepthroat, unprotected piv sex, multiple creampies, degrading kink (very mild), praise kink, pet names (pretty girl, baby, babygirl), language, men whimpering (i know) A/N: I want two boyfriends, and I want the boyfriends to be boyfriends... yeah, you guys know how it goes. idk I had an idea, tossed some words together, and here we are. not my finest work and probably a lil shitty in terms of technicality, but I was craving a good trip to Paris.

Masterlist | Ko-fi

You were lying in bed with Frankie one night, scrolling through social media, when you came across a new post from Benny. It was from a recent fishing trip down to the lake, and he was shirtless, holding a large trout in his hand. You tapped on the screen twice, liking the photo and spending an extra few seconds staring at his tall frame and shaggy blonde hair doused in sunlight. 

“You know he is pretty cute,” you said aloud, showing Frankie the photo.

Frankie and Benny were close, best friends even. You had spent time with him here and there over the years at barbecues and small group settings. He was always friendly and welcomed you into the group with open arms. You and Frankie had been dating for a while now, and you were well aware of his past with the group of men and the missions they had gone on. But now he was home for good, making a living for himself and staying clean. 

“Do you ever think about fucking him?” Frankie asked casually, glancing from the screen to your face.

“Frankie, oh my God!” You gasped. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

You gaped at him, shutting off your phone and placing it on the nightstand.

“Hey, I wasn’t asking to start an argument,” he said coolly. “It was a genuine question.”

You shrunk into the pillows, turning to face him. He nestled against his own pillow, holding your gaze and giving you a small grin. His hair had grown shaggy at the ends, sticking up behind his ears and curling at the base of his neck. You lifted a hand to scratch at the patchy beard covering his jaw, biting your lip as you navigated a response in your head.

“No, I haven’t thought about it,” you exhaled. “Okay, maybe I have once or twice. Fuck—I don’t know. Not in a fuck him and leave you type of way.”

“You know I wouldn’t be mad if you did,” Frankie replied. “Fuck him, I mean.”

“What?” You balked, eyes growing wide.

He only shrugged his shoulders, shifting close to you in the bed.

“He’s my best friend. I’d trust him with you.”

“You’re not seriously telling me right now you want me to sleep with Benny.”

“I’m not telling you to do it,” Frankie argued. “Just saying, if you ever want to explore it, tell me. I’m sure he’s thought about it, too.”

Your face burned bright red at the thought of Benny fantasizing about you. There was no way. Frankie was messing with you.

“None of this bothers you?” You questioned.

Frankie laughed softly, hooking an arm around your leg and guiding it over his hip. You shuffled your body closer until you were both a breath apart. 

“Fuck no, baby,” he smirked, his pupils growing bigger. “Getting to see one of best friends fuck you would probably only turn me on more.”

You felt him growing harder against you, and you reached a hand down to palm his cock through his pajama bottoms. Frankie let out a soft whine, bucking his hips into your hand.

“Would you just sit back and watch?” You quirked an eyebrow. 

“I’d do whatever you want.”

Your fingers danced up his pants, teasing his waistband. You gave him a mischievous grin as you trailed lower until your hand wrapped around his cock. He groaned at your touch, his eyes rolling back.

“What if I want both of you?” You asked, pumping him slowly. “At the same time?”

Something carnal flashed across his features, and he crawled on top of you, running his mouth up your neck. You arched into him, using both hands to pull down his pants. Frankie did the same to you, tugging your sleep shorts down your legs and exploring the wetness collecting between your inner thighs.

“Pretty girl wants to get tag-teamed?” He teased. “Yeah, I can make that happen.”

You gasped at his words and let him fuck you mercilessly the rest of the night. 

You had zero clue what Frankie had told Benny, but later that week, you were situated on the couch between their warm bodies, watching some action movie. Benny kept a respectable distance while Frankie’s hand remained on your thigh, drawing slow circles over your bare skin. You were wearing one of his T-shirts and a pair of soft sleep shorts, your nerves buzzing through your body. 

You barely had the capacity to pay attention to the movie, your eyes shifting between both of the men sitting on either side of you. Frankie leaned over after a while, his breath hot against your neck.

“You call the shots, pretty girl. Whatever you wanna do, it’s your choice,” he muttered into your ear.

You let out a small gasp, glancing over at Benny. He was sitting relaxed against the couch; his legs spread open and muscular arms crossed over his chest. Your eyes trailed up his thick neck, studying his tensed jaw covered in days-old stubble and blue eyes that remained focused on the screen. You weren’t the shy type, but initiating this type of situation was way out of your comfort zone.

“Benny?” You whispered.

His gaze slid to you, his pupils already dilated.

“Yeah?” He asked, his voice deep as he said your name.

You sucked in a breath, mustering the courage to take it to the next step. 

“Kiss me,” you demanded, though it sounded a bit sheepish.

He flicked his gaze to Frankie, then back to you. Reaching a hand up to tangle in your hair, he reeled you in for a hungry kiss. You whimpered at the feel of his mouth against yours, his approach far rougher than what you were used to with Frankie. His tongue intertwined with yours as he coaxed your mouth open wider, his other hand sliding up your thigh. 

Frankie’s mouth connected with the other side of your neck, sucking marks into your flushed skin as you let out another helpless whine.

“Fuck,” Benny panted, guiding your head toward Frankie.

Frankie was quick to capture your mouth, his tongue tracing the saliva still lingering on your lips. You gasped as Benny’s mouth trailed up your neck, drawing his tongue over the erratic pulse under your jaw. 

“This what you want, baby?” Frankie asked before sinking his teeth into the plush skin of your bottom lip.

You gave him an eager nod of your head, and he brought his hand up to tilt your head, both of their mouths now hot and wet against either side of your throat. The throbbing between your thighs grew painful, and you squirmed against their roaming hands; Benny’s hand crawled up to cup your breast, Frankie’s hand teasing your aching clit over your shorts.

“Jesus Christ,” you moaned, letting your head fall back against the couch. 

“Call the shots, pretty girl,” Frankie ordered. 

You bucked your hips against his hand, searching for any form of friction to alleviate the pressure building inside your core. Benny tugged at the t-shirt covering your torso, his breath going ragged as he discovered you bare beneath the soft cotton.

His head dipped down to capture your pebbled nipple between his teeth, grinding them against your skin until you cried out from the pleasure mixing with pain. Oh, Benny was rough, and it only made you ache for more of his touch.

You glanced down at the same time his gaze lifted to yours, a grin tugging at his lips as he realized how much you liked it. Frankie, meanwhile, was working at sipping his fingers between your wet folds, sinking two fingers knuckle deep. 

“Shit,” you hissed through clenched teeth. Frankie’s fingers worked fast inside you; he knew what to do to make you completely fall apart.

But now you had another man working at you in tandem, Benny’s mouth still ravaging your breast. Your fingers tangled into his hair, your nails raking over his scalp. He let out a groan of approval, rewarding you with another bite of his teeth around your nipple.

“Feels…so fucking good…” You whispered to both men.

Frankie angled his hand so that he could push his fingers deeper, curling them against the spongy spot inside you. Searing heat coursed through your veins with each movement of his fingers, your breath coming out short and pained.

A dangerous idea floated through the fog inside your brain, and you wondered how far you could push it at the expense of your wanton needs. Tugging Benny’s hair, he released your nipple with a gentle pop and moved his lips back to yours. You sucked his bottom lip in between your teeth before diving your tongue into his mouth. Benny let out a shallow exhale, letting you steer the kiss in whatever direction you wanted. 

“Benny,” you whined. “I want your tongue inside me.”

He cursed under his breath and looked over at Frankie, who was still working you closer to the edge. Frankie’s eyes lifted to meet yours, a devilish smirk playing on his lips. He pulled his fingers from you, lifting them to your mouth.

“Clean them, pretty girl,” he ordered. 

You wrapped your mouth around his thick fingers, the salty, sweet taste of your arousal coating your tongue. You pulled your head back and looked at Benny with a lifted brow.

“Wanna taste?” You asked with a coy smile.

You expected him to pull you in for a kiss, to taste it from your mouth, but your breath stalled as you watched him grip Frankie’s wrist and guide his fingers into his mouth. Your jaw dropped open as Benny sucked on Frankie’s fingers with fervency, his eyes locked on your boyfriend. This was new. Frankie grunted as Benny dragged his tongue over the pads of his fingers, finally releasing them and settling back into the couch.

“Come here, baby,” Frankie said, shuffling his body back against one side of the couch.

He maneuvered you into his lap, your back pressed against his chest. Through heavy lids, you watched Benny tear away his shirt and put his defined abs on display. You and Frankie had been to a few of his boxing matches, and you were more than familiar with the toned figure he hid under his basic t-shirts. Your eyes roamed down his torso, studying the way his chest hair flourished between his sternum and trailed down his abdomen. You involuntarily wet your lips at the sight, wanting to take your tongue and trace every flexed muscle on his body.

“Spread your legs for me, babygirl,” Benny instructed. Hearing him call you babygirl had your mind reeling. 

You let your legs fall open and watched as Benny shuffled back to situate himself between your thighs. Frankie’s hands groped and squeezed your breasts, his fingers pinching your nipples until you gasped at the stinging pain. You tilted your head back, arching upward to meet his lips. Frankie responded with a sloppy kiss, his nose brushing over yours at the same time Benny’s tongue flicked over your aching clit.

“Fuck!” You cried, the word muffled in Frankie’s mouth.

Frankie let out a low chuckle and intertwined his fingers through the tendrils of your hair, forcing you to look down at Benny.

“Watch him while he tongue fucks you, baby,” Frankie commanded. 

Your breath hitched, and Benny took that as his opportunity to dive his tongue deep inside you. Sparks of pleasure erupted behind your eyes, and it took all your strength to keep your focus on him as he worked his tongue deeper. His eyes shot up to yours, the pale blue of his irises swallowed by his pupils. 

“Do you like that pretty girl?” Frankie crooned in your ear. “You enjoy having us both giving you all this attention?”

“Yes,” you panted, your chest rising and falling steadily as warmth spread through your stomach.

“Tell Benny how much you like it.”

Your eyes rolled back as Benny traced over your wet folds with his tongue, the heat of his mouth against your cunt sending you into a spiral. 

“I—.” You choked on your words as Benny’s lips suctioned around your clit, his tongue sending sharp rhythmic flicks across the aching bundle of nerves.

“Tell him,” Frankie growled, his hand wrapping around your throat.

“Your mouth feels so fucking good, Benny,” you gasped. “Please don’t stop… Please. Keep doing that, I’m so fucking close.”

Your words were melding together, a jumble of incoherent mumbling and humiliating whimpers. Frankie’s hand squeezed your throat tighter, restricting your breathing as Benny coaxed your orgasm closer to the surface. With Frankie’s hand around your neck and Benny’s tongue assailing your cunt, the overstimulation began to spread through your veins. 

“I know you’re close, pretty girl,” Frankie whispered in your ear. “I can feel how tense you are. Let it go, baby. Cum for us.”

His words sent the heavens crashing down around you, and your body seized upwards as your orgasm ignited a fire that raged under your skin. Benny lapped at the arousal pooling out of you, humming in satisfaction as a strangled cry left your lips. 

“Doesn’t my girl taste good, Benny?” Frankie murmured, releasing his grip on your throat.

“Fucking perfect,” Benny grinned.

You leaned your head back against Frankie’s chest, seeing his big brown eyes sparkle with lust. 

“Frankie, baby,” you whispered. “Why don’t you have a taste, too?”

Frankie started to shift you off his lap, but you pressed yourself further into his chest, leaving him looking at you confused. You glanced down at Benny and gave a subtle lift of your chin as if to silently coax him from between your thighs. He followed your lead, crawling up your body until he hovered over you and leaned in close. He braced himself against the couch with one arm while snaking the other around Frankie’s neck. You careened your neck to watch as their mouth collided, Frankie’s aquiline nose smashing against Benny’s cheek for a frenzied kiss. Frankie submitted to Benny’s control, whimpering as their tongues danced together. Your jaw went slack as you watched your boyfriend passionately kiss his best friend; oh, you fucking loved this.

Benny tore away from Frankie’s lips, bending down to trail his lips over your jaw and neck. 

“I think your man wants some attention, babygirl,” he muttered against your warm skin.

“I think so, too,” you agreed, breathless.

Both men maneuvered off the couch, taking their time to undress, while you sat back and admired both of their naked bodies. Frankie was soft in all the right areas, his dark chest hair spread across his broad torso and trailing down over the soft pudge of his stomach. His cock hung heavy between his thighs, already glistening with precum as it leaked from the tip. Your eyes shifted over to Benny, your eyes growing wide at the length of his hardened cock. While Frankie’s cock was sizable in girth, Benny made up for it with length, and the thought of his cock deep inside you only spurred you closer to another orgasm. You needed one of them to fuck you, or else you’d go crazy.

“Baby,” you whined, shuffling your body up on the couch.

Frankie gave you a smirk, the creases in the corner of his eyes appearing as he looked down on you. You snaked a hand down your navel, your fingers slipping between the wet folds as you sought out some sort of relief from the throbbing need inside you. 

Benny moved around the side of the couch, his strong hands hooking under your shoulders and dragging you back until your head hung over the arm of the couch. Upside down, you stared up at his cock as it hovered over your face. You wet your lips at the sight of it, waiting for him to inch closer. Gliding a hand over your strained neck, his fingers squeezed the right above the base of it.

“I wanna feel my cock right here, babygirl,” Benny said. “You gonna show me you can take it?”

“Yes,” you breathed.

You dropped your jaw open, your tongue darting out as you waited for him to step forward. Frankie’s body weight dropped on the couch above you, his hands lifting your legs onto his shoulder. As your calves settled onto his broad shoulders, Frankie lined himself up with your entrance. In one quick thrust, Frankie bottomed out, and you let out a raspy moan. Before you had a chance to make another sound, Benny slid his cock into your mouth, your tongue dragging against the veins along the length. You sputtered around him as he drove deeper down your throat, his fingers still massaging your neck with each shallow thrust. 

Frankie’s thrusts grew harder, and your muffled cries were silenced as Benny continued snapping his hips forward into your mouth. 

“Ain’t she so pretty like this?” Frankie grunted through each drive of his cock.

“So fucking pretty,” Benny huffed. You swallowed around him, forcing him to choke on his words. “She’s taking our cocks so well. Her mouth feels so fucking good.”

You keened at their words, arousal blooming deep within your stomach as they spoke. They were using your body any way they wanted, and you were desperate for their praise. 

“You enjoy getting used like this, baby?” Frankie asked, his voice low and strained. 

You couldn’t respond as Benny plunged his cock further down your throat, your jaw straining to take his length deeper. You could feel the tears cascading down your temples, your breath forced out of your nose as you struggled under his hold. 

“Aw, pretty girl can’t talk?” Frankie taunted. 

Frankie lifted your ass off the couch, his warm hands squeezing the supple skin as you began assaulting you with unforgiving thrusts. Your cunt clenched around his cock, sucking him in deeper until the tip of his cock brushed against your cervix. You wailed a helpless cry, saliva dripping over Benny’s cock and down your cheeks. 

Your eyes blurred as your climax grew into an inferno inside your stomach. Each thrust on either side of your body plummeted your orgasm closer and closer to the surface, your heartbeat thrumming erratically in your ears. Benny hunched over your body, his hands massaging your breasts, his fingers pinching around your nipples. You arched off the couch, and Frankie kept his grip tight on your hips as he continued railing into you.

“Gonna be a good girl and cum for us, baby?” Frankie crooned.

“Mmmph.” 

You couldn’t speak. You could barely make a coherent noise as your orgasm ignited inside of you, leaving you paralyzed—suspended between the bodies of two men that continued to wreck you completely as you came undone. 

“Such a good fucking girl,” Frankie praised.

“Think she deserves a reward?” Benny questioned, drawing his cock from your mouth.

You heaved in lung-fulls of air, drool still dripping down your face. Benny crouched behind you, his hand fisting your hair to pull your face forward toward Frankie. Frankie’s dark eyes met yours, and he pounded deeper into you, your cries turning into humiliating whimpers.

“You want Frankie to cum inside you, babygirl?” Benny whispered, his tongue tracing along the shell of your ear.

“Y—yes,” you wailed brokenly. “Please, Frankie. Need your cum.”

Frankie’s face scrunched up with concentration as he changed the tempo of his thrusts; they were slower and more powerful. Benny’s grip on your hair remained firm, not allowing you to look anywhere but at Frankie. His tousled dark curls stuck to his forehead with sweat, his jaw clenched as he forcibly thrust into you in one final time. With a carnal groan, Frankie emptied himself inside you, slumping onto your chest with labored breaths. 

“Jesus Christ,” Frankie groaned. 

Benny unwound his fingers from the tendrils of your hair, peppering your cheek and neck with kisses. Frankie lifted his head to look at Benny, and you could faintly see a smirk teasing the corner of his hips.

“I think she can take a bit more. What do you say, Benny?” Frankie grinned.

“I wanna know how good that pussy feels. You gonna let me fill you up, too?” Benny asked, his teeth grazing your neck.

“God, yes,” you exhaled.

Frankie climbed off your body and maneuvered you onto all fours. Your legs wobbled against the cushions, Frankie’s cum slowly leaking from your sore cunt. Benny made his way around the couch, climbing behind your shaking body. Frankie took his spot in front of you, his large hands cupping your face and wiping away the excess saliva that still coated your cheeks and nose.

“Look at the mess you made, pretty girl,” Frankie mumbled, his eyes dancing over you ravenously. 

He leaned in to kiss you, drawing his tongue over your wet lips. You moaned into his open mouth, your body tensing up with anticipation as Benny coated the head of his cock with the wetness leaking from your entrance. 

“Eyes on me, baby,” Frankie ordered, pulling away from your mouth. “I wanna watch you while Benny ruins that perfect pussy.”

That was all Benny needed to hear before he broke you up, the stretch of your cunt around his cock blindingly painful for the first few seconds. Your mouth fell open as his hips pressed against your ass, every glorious inch of him stretching you wide open. A choked gasp fell from your lips as Frankie held your focus, his brown eyes watching with fervid attention. 

“Benny,” Frankie said, never breaking away from your eyes. “Fuck her hard.”

Benny replied with a forceful snap of his hips that sent your body colliding with the couch. You screamed out at the savage pace he set, each connection of his hips against yours sending you into a frenzy of whimpers and sobs.

“So fucking tight and perfect,” Benny huffed between each drive of his cock. “Can’t believe you’ve been keeping her to yourself.”

“She’s all mine, Benny,” Frankie reminded him. “But I think she enjoys being shared.”

You nodded vigorously, flames licking up your nerves as Benny steered you closer to another orgasm. Your nails dug into the cushions, half-moon indentations left in their wake. 

“I want you both,” you panted. “Like this.”

“Yeah, babygirl?” Benny exhaled, bending his body over yours to kiss up your spine.

Frankie dragged you in for a long kiss, a moan exhaling from his mouth into yours. You were drunk on their touch, each hand roaming your body, every kiss, every lust-filled word. You couldn’t get enough.

“Cum inside me, Benny,” you pleaded. 

Benny’s arm braced around your torso, pulling you up until your back was flush with his chest. Frankie climbed over the arm of the sofa, his hands sweeping back the hair from your face. Benny brought his free hand up to Frankie, tugging at his curls until he shuffled closer. Frankie tilted his chin up and met Benny’s lips, their kisses slow and impassioned. Both of their body’s pressed harder against yours, Benny’s cock sliding in and out of you slowly, his thrusts shallow and short. You licked a path up Frankie’s neck, startling a gasp from him as Benny deepened their kiss.

The muscles in Benny’s arms flexed around your chest, his hips snapping hard one last time before his release was painting your insides. You were so fucking full of them both, your body coursing with adrenaline and pleasure. Benny slipped out of you, breaking away from Frankie’s lips and falling back against the couch. 

“Come here, babygirl,” Benny urged, outstretching his arms.

You glanced at Frankie for permission—which was comical as the mixture of their cum leaked down your inner thighs. Frankie gave you a soft smile, peking your lips before guiding you down onto the couch. 

Benny wound his arms around your trembling body, pressing a light kiss on the crown of your head, while Frankie settled against your body on the other side. You nestled into the warmth of their bodies, your eyes drifting shut from exhaustion.

“This was nice,” you hummed, giggling softly. 

“You wanna do it again?” Frankie chuckled, kissing your shoulder.

“Maybe not right now,” you groaned.

The soreness between your legs throbbed violently, and every muscle in your body tense and stiffened. You stretched out between them, feeling both men’s heartbeats pounding against your body.

“I love you, baby,” Frankie muttered into your skin.

“I love you, too,” you exhaled.

Lifting your chin to look at Benny, you watched him eye Frankie knowingly. You could see the emotions swimming in his blue eyes, his lips parted and swollen.

“You love him, too,” you commented.

“Yeah, maybe I do,” Benny said absentmindedly.

Benny’s gaze slid down to you, and you saw it in his eyes. The passion between them, the cohesiveness of their movements with you; it was all right there. You always thought Benny loved Frankie like a brother, but maybe there was something more. You weren’t jealous; you were far from it. You wanted them both, maybe in different ways, but still… you wanted them.

“Would you do this again?” You asked, partially to both of them.

“Absolutely,” Frankie said, at the same time Benny said, “In a heartbeat.”

“Stay the night with us, Benny,” you offered. 

“Wouldn’t wanna be anywhere else,” Benny sighed.

[koyotespeaks]

tw: sexy sex, no plot, well maybe minor plot, breeding kink if you squint, general nasty behavior, uneducated scottish accent mimicking

minors shoo! away!

you knew what you’ve been doing all along. wearing all those skimpy little frilly shorts and tops when your roommate is home. but you just didn’t have any other choice. you didn’t, because it was Johnny.

it was Johnny and you just wanted to tease him. just the slightest little bit, not doing too much. bending down at the right time. batting your eyelashes and always wearing that damned red lipgloss that made him hot in the face. really you were just bored, honestly, and isn’t it mighty fun teasing your sexy roommate when he’s home from wherever he’s been? definitely, in your opinion.

so, if all of this was just the smallest most innocent bit of teasing why then, for the love of gods, you are now finding yourself breathing heavily while Johnny is slipping a finger inside of you under that heavy blanket and it feels hot all over. you whispered his name a thousand times by now, your head on his shoulder, eyes closed and hot breath leaving your open lips. the joke is definitely blown out of proportion by now.

you were so giddy when you both agreed to stay in and watch a movie tonight. ‘he’ll get his serving of Netflix and chill.' you thought, arrogantly and not matter-of-factly. you put on some scary horror movie and your panties were wet after you let the first jumpscare frighten you so much you grabbed onto the couch and jerked. Johnny laughed and made a remark about somebody being a “scaredy cat” and scooted you over near himself, draped his arm across the back of the couch letting you lean into him. all with talking your ears off about how you’re a little pussy not able to watch a scary movie with dignity. the second jumpscare you grabbed onto him. you were leaking arousal. that’s how horror movies work, right? anyway. at the end of the day, you were just bored and he was Johnny.

he was Johnny, the handsome 6’2” scot with a mohawk you didn’t really know a lot about. ‘sure, hen.’ he’d reply, when you asked him to tell a little bit about himself. he was employed, paid bills, mentioned some friends. you guessed he was some kind of private contractor, due to the state of his form. nobody keeps himself in that tip top of a shape if they’re not having to apply said form in various physical ways.

‘physical ways’, your mind wandered off. you smiled crookedly at your thoughts instantly remembering the smile, or rather the grin, he gave you whenever your teasing became too on the nose. he’d always acknowledge it by looking straight into your eyes smiling like he’d just stolen something from you, and wanted you to guess what it was. an interesting and endearing reaction. to you, it was encouraging. 'how the fuck', you thought, 'am I supposed to not tease him? it’s so easy!' you thought. in reality, you were hooked like a little fish.

you stifle a moan and your chest heaves with hot air as you melt into him more by the second. you feel his hands everywhere which is a bit preposterous, you try to reason, but then he slips his finger out of your wet heat and all thought leaves your brain.

‘this is not fair,’ you whisper in a pleading voice. ‘stop teasing!’ you don’t really know why you’re whispering, you guess it will be a legitimation of your endeavors with him if you speak aloud.

‘tha’s rich comin’ from ye, bonnie.’ he replies, and you just know he’s smiling with his crooked fucking smile which commanded you to start teasing him the first time you saw it. really, you had no other choice but to do it. it’s his fault. you wiggle and squirm on his lap while he holds you tight against his chest. you don’t really want him to let go. 'yep', you think, 'the joke’s over'. you want him to hold you tighter, his chest pressed against you, his big arms holding you. you want to feel like a helpless pliant thing. you want to feel his hard-on against your backside. you want him to fuck you. that, you say to him, under your breath.

‘say what, hen, didn’t quite hear ya.’ he rasps into your ear.

'that bastard', you think. you can almost hear the shit-eating grin he has on his face. you take a couple of breaths, in and out, just to cool you off before you say something so embarrassing. you feel his fingers, wet with your arousal, on your hip.

‘I want you to fuck me, Johnny, please… please just…’ you stutter out a bit louder and after a skipped heartbeat you feel rumble in his chest.

‘and how should I do it?’ he inquires. you think it’s a joke but silence proves he is genuine. 'what a fucking cockroach, making me say all that', you think.

‘just… put it in now, please,’ you mutter, feeling your face get hot. all your arrogance and attitude gone all of a sudden.

‘sure, hen.’ he spreads your legs wider with a demanding tap on your thigh. his fingers circle your pussy lips spreading them slightly apart, working them. 'please', you think. he kisses your ear and slightly bites it, leaving it cold and wet and your face even more hot. you feel his leaky tip touching your lips, prying them open. you know you are not able to take him fully now, but you just want to sit in his lap while he tries to fit himself in.

with a low grunt he slips in and your eyes roll to the back of your skull. your hand shoots to his thigh and squeezes it so hard your manicured nails dig into the skin. he breathes out shakily into the back of your neck and snakes an arm around your stomach to steady both of you. you’ve never felt him touch so much of your exposed skin and it is overwhelmingly nice. your brain is melting. you timidly buck your hips ever so slightly just to feel how far you can go. not that far. but it’s enough for now. you start to slide on his dick, trying to get more friction and you feel his arms tightening their hold.

‘fuck’, he forces out, squeezing his hand on your hip in a warning.

‘feels good’, you plead, eyebrows furrowed from all the effort you’re putting in. after a while you slump in his hold, breathing heavily.

‘not enough… i want it deeper’, you whisper into the air.

‘jesus christ, pet.'

you hear a hiss, a grunt and a ‘what are yer doin’ t’ me’. his cock slips out and next thing you know, you’re on your back.

‘thank you’, you smile and immediately reach your hands to slip your fingers into his black hair. you wanted to do it for so long now. it feels even better than you’d imagined. it appears to you that you are awfully vulnerable right now. you realize you trust him enough not to sabotage this moment of yours. you are so needy you don’t really care anyway.

he chuckles and shakes his head. 'he’s pretty' you think. he sits back, spits on your pussy, and lines himself up and you cuss yourself out for those butterflies in your stomach that threaten to coil into something more vulgar. you bite your pointer finger, because if you make any sound now it will be really embarrassing.

Johnny slaps your dripping cunt with his heavy dick making that soft pleading sound escape you still. that sound made him twitch against your core and as this knowledge gets to your brain you smile, realizing he is just as desperate.

he pushes the tip in, your legs tremble and you exhale shakily with relief.

his low grunts and raspy moans fill your ears, your mind, he fills the entirety of your space and you don’t want it to end. his dick slides in and out so sweetly, but he keeps that torturous slow pace and his grin is really annoying. at this point you decide you’re over his attitude, really, you’re over both of you, and you reach out to pull him into a kiss. you kiss him sloppily, sucking on his tongue. his stubble is gently overstimulating your senses. you lick his teeth and your lips after that. his hips falter. it is hot all over.

he cannot keep the steady leisurely pace after that. he gives you long passionate thrusts and you feel him going in to the base. you start to feel dizzy and lose reason completely and your tongue unties, finally.

‘it feels so good with you’, you babble out, legs spread as wide as the couch allows, to welcome him into your heat as deep as possible, ‘please don’t stop, please, please.’ you sob and mewl, eyes watering and chest tight with desire for more. he fucks you faster and you chant his name with each thrust. ‘tha’s it, pretty girl, come f'me.’ he feels your walls flutter and tighten and it takes all of him not to come inside of you when you so sweetly come all over his dick.

his broken hiss reverberates through you body, his dick twitching inside you while you come down from your high.

‘ye ok, pet?’ he asks, ‘ye need’a minute?’ all the while starting to move his hips again. you jolt from the overstimulation.

‘ah! Johnny, sensitive!’

‘sensitive?’ he coos, ‘ok, hen, I’ll give yer little pussy a break.’ he settles comfortably inside of you. you feel so small suddenly.

it is maybe your fourth orgasm when he decided it appropriate time for him to come. your second orgasm came fast after he started pounding you relentlessly.

him rabidly whispering ‘ye’ll squirt f'me, pet, I’ll make ye’ is all you can recall before your third one because you really did. for him.

you’re so fucked out, your tongue is out and you look at him through half lidded eyes when you feel his pace starts to quicken and break.

‘Johnny, please, inside.’

‘pet.’ he speaks, warningly. ‘don’t say tha’, he grunts, ‘unless ye really want me t'.’

you lock your legs behind his back.

his thrusts become frenzied and he sounds dangerous ‘ye really wan’ me t’ come in ya?’

‘yes, please.’ you plead softly.

‘fuck.’ he swears in a cracked voice, his accent thick, grabs you by the hips, where you’re sure to find violet marks next morning, and fucks himself with your pussy, like it’s so easy to lift your flaccid body and jerk himself off with it. you come simultaneously with him, your legs shaking and stomach jumpy. Johnny comes inside you, spurting his thick hot come. he lays down on you, burrowing his nose in the crook of your neck, making his weight your stabilizer, grounding, and comforting.

you lay there, feeling his come leak out of you, lazily messing up his hair, not wanting him to pull out. wanting to feel more of his hot breath on your neck and his tongue lapping at your collarbone, his chest rising and falling, steadily. you want to lay like this a little bit longer. under him, pressed into the couch by his weight, safe.

[silentglassbreak]

an idea for a fluffy blurb? you've been dating Noah for a few months and he finally gets the courage to say "I love you" 🥺

Oh my loooooove! I think this would be the cutest shit everrrrrrr.

Imagine, right? You and Noah met, maybe somewhere totally normal? At a bookstore or a movie theater? Since we know the man likes to see movies alone?

It’s not always concert sightings or music-related.

Cause Noah, under all the talent and fame, is a normal guy! He has normal wants and needs…and nerves.

He had the hardest time introducing himself, so you had to. You had noticed him staring, an unsure smirk on his lips, and decided…hey, maybe you should give it a shot? Maybe the cute boy with the boba brown eyes was worth talking to?

Oh…he was.

And he struggled to make the first move. It had taken four dates, three meals, two movies, and a shared bowl of ice cream before you finally had to ask, “Are you planning on kissing me? Or did I read this all wrong?”

And when he did…the sparks that erupted put the Disneyland finale show to an absolute shame.

Needless to say, Noah didn’t know how to initiate, so sex took…longer than you would’ve liked. You told yourself you’d hold out. You’d wait until he grew the nerve. If he wasn’t ready to take that step, you should respect that right?

But you knew he wanted it. You could see the hunger in his eyes. The angle of his stares. The way he licked his lips when you borrowed his t-shirts or wore your swimsuit in front of him. His hand always lingered a little on your waist, and you silently begged him to just take it.

But…to your dismay…three long, dry weeks will make a girl desperate. So you begrudgingly caved, and jumped him one night while you both spent hours watching movie after movie on his couch.

He invited you in with open arms, and the experience was lethal. You were hooked. He was never getting rid of you.

So that’s how you ended up six months in, standing on Pier 49 in San Francisco, smiling at the seals, with Noah’s arms around you, chatting with Folio about fish and whatever else.

So many soft touches, passionate kisses, longing stares.

But still…no mention of that one word.

You felt it. You felt it long ago. Did he?

Why wouldn’t he say it? Noah clearly had trust and commitment issues, you had learned. But he could’ve left ages ago. He had a sparkling career, money, looks that could kill. He could have any woman he wanted.

The man bled confidence and tenacity…until it came to you.

With you, he was timid and shy, carefully calculating words. He never said anything he didn’t mean or could be misunderstood.

So, he hadn’t said it out loud for a reason, then. You had decided it just had to be that he didn’t feel that way toward you. And that made your sides split, and your heart sink every time you thought about it.

It would break you when Noah decided to finally move on. Find something that he did feel that way about.

You put it out of your head, for now. At least you had today.

“Ready?” His voice was low in your ear, and you turned, swallowing the lump forming in your throat.

“Sure am.”

You rode the ferry off to Alcatraz Island for the prison tour. When he asked what all you wanted to do on their off day in the city, all you could think about was seeing it up close. He vowed to take you there.

The tour was mesmerizing, taking you through the cell blocks that still stood, getting to hear the insane history of the once-feared penitentiary.

The tour group took you out through the warden’s office and gave a ten-minute break before they began heading down the hill. You approached the rail near the edge of the island, where just below the rocks striated up out of the water at least twenty feet down. The water of the Pacific splashed angrily against the stones, the cool spray barely reaching your face.

As he always did, Noah circled his arms around your body, his face resting in the crook of your neck before his chin came to rest on your shoulder.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

You smiled, staring off at San Francisco’s skyscrapers in the distance. “Thank you for bringing me here. I’ve always wanted to see this.”

His pressed his nose against your cheek, and you could feel him smiling against you. “Of course.”

Your eyes scanned the deep gray waters below. “Can you believe men tried to escape by swimming through that?”

“Yeah, that’s crazy.”

“I couldn’t do it.”

He hummed, head lifting to gaze down at the raging waves.

“Well, I don’t know.” You listened to his voice as he continued to stare at the ocean. “I read on one of the plaques in there that one of the escapees? He did it because his wife was just across the bay waiting for him. She was pregnant with his kid, and he swore he’d see them.” He sighed heavy, “He was doing life for killing a man.”

You followed his eyes to the sharp rocks below. “Wow. That’s awful.”

He shrugged. “Is it? When he was caught, he told the police he would do anything to see the woman he loved.”

You nodded, humming. “I mean, I guess? It’s still insane.”

“Yeah, it is.” His eyes looked up, glancing over to look at your face. You didn’t see this, eyes still trained on the water. “But I can’t say I wouldn’t do the same.”

This made you look at him. “You would?”

His eyes were so bright, but his face looked unsure. That same shy smirk pulling at his lips that you’ve come to recognize.

“If I was here, and you were on the other side of that bay,” His arm lifted to point across the water, your eyes following. “I’d jump in this water a thousand times over to get to you.”

Your heart stopped, your knuckles turning white where they clutched the railing.

“You’d do that?”

His hands moved you, turning your body so you stood facing him. “For the woman I love?” He flashed his teeth then, all sense of uncertainty dissolved.

“I’d do whatever it takes.”

IDK I GOT CARRIED AWAY BABE SORRY.

[olailamajnoon]

Selina walked onto the Watchtower along with Bruce. Zatanna "accidentally" bumped into the two. She looked up at Selina and blinked. "Oh, you're Bruce's wife!"

Selina appeared slightly taken aback, one eyebrow unfurling. "...no."

Zatanna went on cheerily, winking at Bruce with malicious intent. "Well, he takes every opportunity to call you his wife. He's like...I'm gonna marry her anyway, so might as well call her that."

Selina gave Bruce the side-eye. "Yeah, that definitely sounds like him." Her voice was dry.

"If you ever decide to marry this lummox," went on Zatanna, "remember to ask me for my list of Bruce's sixteen greatest flaws."

Selina grinned. "Thanks, but I think I know them."

"No," said Zatanna seriously, chewing her magic gum. "You only know the first nine." Zatanna sat down at the monitor console and hung upside down on the chair. "He eats with his mouth open sometimes. And he can't handle raw shrimp. It gives him...diarrhea."

Selina snorted. "How do you know this." She couldn't hide her amusement.

"We were trapped on an ocean planet for a week, and all we had to eat was raw fish. Bruce had...severe digestive problems. Clark had to cook the meat with his eyeballs." Zatanna was seemingly relishing telling the story, as much as Bruce gave her the death-glare.

"Well, I won't take him out for sushi anytime then," said Selina.

"Or...you could," said Zatanna, waggling her eyebrows. "Take him someplace without a bathroom, and watch him. He can't say no to a challenge, his ego will get in the way."

Bruce's glare at Zatanna could have melted steel as she slurped her Slurpie. Selina was trying and failing to control hiccupy laughter. "That sounds like an...idea."

Zatanna grinned from ear to ear. "You know, I like you, Catwoman. Maybe we will make good friends."

Selina hooked her right arm through Bruce's. "I'm un-uninviting you to our wedding."

Zatanna sat up. "Wait! I was...uninvited?"

"You turned Bruce's chair into mist and he sat on it and fell on his ass." Selina giggled childishly. It sounded like a kitten gurgling.

"Selina..." Bruce warned.

"...so he got upset," Selina finished.

Zatanna was smirking. "Yeah, that's always funny."

"I'm glad you two ladies are bonding," said Bruce, unamused. "But if you will excuse me, I need to work."

Selina blew him a kiss as he disentangled himself and walked away. Then she leaned closer to Zatanna. "Do you have any idea what he's like when he gets angry?"

Zatanna looked up through innocent eyes. "no...?"

"The sex," said Selina, "is so great. He gets rough, just the way I like it." She breathed in. "Any ideas how to make him just mad enough to get him to do that?"

Zatanna grinned. "Any ideas? I've got an entire encyclopedia! I've written the book on twirling Bruce round my pinkie." She flicked her hair. "What do you wanna know?"

Selina sat beside her, and propped her feet up on the console. "Let's start with everything."

[anglbby444]

Rafe x fem!reader

Warnings ; p n v sex, fingering, soft!rafe, assumed unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it besties), one use of Y/N

Her ears perked up as she heard the slight rattle of the doorknob. To her pleasure, Rafe came strutting through the door, carrying a big bag of fishing gear he had been given from his father. A contagious smile crept onto his face he placed down the extremely heavy bag, trying to be as quiet as possible. “Jesus, this bag is so heavy.” He huffed out with a laugh. She looked at him with a smile.

He ran his hands through his hair as he waddled over to the couch, leaning down to place a kiss on the top of her head. She tilted her head back so she could kiss his lips in a quick peck. He stood there for a moment, standing over her, petting her head that was currently resting against his waist. “Cmere Rafe, I wanna cuddle.”

She shuffled her body sideways, so she’d be laying across the couch with her head resting against the arm of the couch. Rafe grinned as he walked over to lean against the arm of the couch, crawling on top of the cushions, eventually finding himself on top of her. He nestled his face into her neck, placing soft kisses on the skin. “Mmm, you taste like cake.” He chuckled.

He peppered a few more kisses on her neck before nuzzling his face into the crevice between her ear and neck. His hands found their way to her waist again, gently sinking in to the flesh. Y/N let out a content sigh as the boy hummed happily, smiling into her skin. "Missed me today, huh baby?” Her voice was soft as she ran her fingers through his hair.

Rafe let out a noise of agreement, his breath tickling the shell of her ear. The sensation caused her to shift a little bit, chuckling to herself. "Damn right I did. You're all I could think about all day. All that stupid fishing shit my dad asked me to help him with, he knows I don't give a fuck about the damn fish." He grumbled into her skin, causing her to smile as her hands combed along his short hair.

"Yeah, I get it. Fishing isn't exactly your forte." She retorted with a cheeky grin, his head popping up in response to her playful comment. "Hey, you little shit, at least I can put a worm on the hook." She gave him a fake look of offense, softly tapping the back of his head. "Alright alright, you got me there." They both looked at each other and laughed for a minute, relishing in the company of the other. He looked at her with a sideways smile, the smile that he only gives to her. Nobody else. Just her. She was his girl, and she didn't mind it one bit. "Fuck, you are so beautiful..."

His voice and his heartbeat were the only two things she could hear at that moment, but in her defense, thats all she wanted to hear. It's all she ever wanted to hear. He nudged his nose against her jaw, signaling that he wanted her to expose her neck a bit more. And that she did. With a content sigh, her hands still petting his head, she craned her neck slightly to give him more access to the soft, yet sensitive skin. His lips attached to the nape of her neck, then lifting, and then attaching again in a continuous cycle. She felt his teeth gently nip at the spot of skin that connects her neck to her ear, his mouth curling up into a slight smile at her reaction. "R-Rafe...are you trying to get me excited or something?" She huffed, fingers still petting the top of his head.

"What's it look like i'm trying to do, baby?" He drawled out, continuing to kiss the spot he just bit. She tried to buck her hips up to get some form of friction as she felt his left hand trail down her body once more, landing on the same patch of skin on her hip he was just holding. He chuckled at her reaction. "Seems like its workin', huh?" That little shit.

Well, if he's gonna play games, so will she. She slowly slithered her hand down his waist, her fingers ever so slightly grazing against his crotch. The bulge forming on the light brown kahki pants was starting to grow more, bringing a smile to both their faces. Suddenly, Rafe firmly, but gently enough as to not hurt her, used his hands to grab her wrists and pin them to her sides. "You little brat, you think you can try and turn the tables on me, hm?" His strong grip on her wrist made her feel completely powerless, but also comfortable. She knew he would never hurt her. Never in a million years would he ever think about hurting his sweet girl.

The look on his face was a look only she knew. It was a look of hunger. "Do you wanna take this to the bedroom, honey?" He leaned down towards her ear, lips ever so slightly grazing against the outer shell as he whispered. She gave him those eyes that made him know exactly what she wanted. He whispered again, a quick "Ok", and scooped her up bridal style. She giggled the whole time as he carried her to his bedroom, that just to happen to have the best view of the water on the island.

He gracefully placed her down onto the bed, that was thankfully covered in the softest quilt-style sewn blanket she had ever felt. She gawked at his arms as he yanked his shirt off, his tan skin almost glistening in the sunset. He plopped down next to her, his pointer finger and thumb playing with the hem of his shirt, that she happen to be wearing that day. His eyes trailed down from her eyes, all the way down to wear the shirt ends. He felt a shiver run up his spine when he realized she wasn't wearing any panties underneath his shirt. "Fuck...you naughty girl.."

She giggled at his shocked expression. "I wanted to surprise you, since I knew you were gonna be doing something you hate having to do today.." She muttered out, almost sounding shy, quite the contrary to how she was acting just a few moment ago. He could've sworn he felt his dick twitch at her words. "Jesus, how'd I get so lucky with a girl like you?" He stammered out his words, hands grabbing onto her hips and bringing her on top of his waist as he attached his lips to hers with a passionate hunger. "Just because you're on top, dosen't mean you're in charge. Just remember that." He exclaimed between the kisses, feeling her smile against his lips. "Wasn't counting on it." She huffed out between a quick breath.

"Can I take the shirt off, please?" He brushed a stray strand of hair off of her forehead, eyes locked on her gorgeous, persperation freckled face. She nodded at his request, immiedntly feeling his hands pull the shirt up and off her chest. "Fuck...look at these tits...so beautiful." He breathed out, flipping her over and leaning down once more to attach his lips to her right nipple as he tossed the t-shirt she was wearing over his head and onto the floor. "R-Rafey..feels so good..." She mewled out, her own hand attempting to tug at his pants. In response to this, he playfully smacked her hand. "What did I say about me being in control, hm?"

She scrunched her nose in response to his reprimand, although not minding it one bit. "Atta girl.." He moaned as his tongue danced around the hardening nipple, relishing in her delicious moans she was making. In additon to him sucking her nipple, he trailed one of his hands down her body, eventually finding it's way between her thighs. He slightly trailed his fingers against her mound as he removed his lips from her breast with a pop sound, tsking while shaking his head. "Seems like someones wet already. Is this all for me?"

She bit her lip as she bucked her hips up against his fingers that were now teasing at her entrance, the middle finger curiously spreading the lips apart. "Mmm...look at this sweet pussy...looks so fucking delicious.." His middle finger softly started to toy with the sensitive nub in the middle, relishing in her moans once more. "P-please f-fuck me so good..." He looked at her with a smirk, playfully shaking his head. "Yeah? That's what you want? Me to fuck the shit out of you?" he groaned against her ear, his hot breath creating goosebumps on her skin. She eagerly nodded her head.

“Good girl, always being so clear about what she wants.” Rafe smiled as he rested his forehead against hers, placing a gentle kiss on her lips. His left hand cupped her cheek as his other hand pump his semi-erect cock a few times. The heavenly sounds coming from her lovers cock made her stomach twirl. “R-Rafe…please be careful..” She sounded almost worried, which broke Rafes heart. He nuzzled his nose to hers as he hooked her legs through his arms. “Shhh, don’t worry honey. I’m gonna be extra careful. Just for you.”

And he stuck to his word. He never broke eye contact as he was lining his cock up with her entrance, enjoying all the expressions his length was causing her to make. When he slid in about an inch, he began peppering kisses on her neck to distract her from the stinging pain. With every inch, her eyes squeezed shut. “There we go, almost all in now.” His forehead was still pressed against hers, smiling as he took her bottom lip between his teeth and giving it a gentle tug. Sounds of slapping skin echoed through the room as he began to pump his cock into her, burying his face into the supple skin of her neck. His hot breath brushed against her ear, soft moans turning into louder ones as he kept fucking her. “This pussy is all mine, babygirl. All fucking mine.”

[wehaveimagineshere]

Prompt: Artist Reader decides to give Astarion their sketchbook filled with sketches of him. Couple: Astarion/Reader

Frost actually gave me this prompt right as we opened up this blog. I knew I had to write it.

-Ren

~*~*~

"I'll be your mirror."

It had been a casual statement, handed forward with a small smirk and light words. It was taken casually, a fleeting kindness to be snatched by the night wind and forgotten.

The sketchbook being slipped into your small pack now speaks of a different tale, your fingers quickly but carefully tying the twine closed before sliding the strap over your chest. Glancing around, you spy your favorite vampire in front of one of the room's bookshelves, book in hand.

Hooking a thumb under the strap, you stride up, adopting an air of nonchalance. The rest of your fingers grip the leather as he looks up, a half smile bending his lips. "Well hello, darling." Tossing the book back on the shelf, he gives you his full attention. "What can I do for you?"

"Well," you start, trying your best to keep your fingers still, "I was hoping you'd follow me to the roof."

"The roof?" he echoes, eyebrows going up. "I don't believe we're allowed up there." His smile grows. "Which means we should definitely do it. I'm in."

The grin on your face almost hurts. "Let's go."

"One question." His eyes roam the room before tilting up, then back down to your own colored hues. "How are we getting up there?"

Pressing your lips together, your eyes dart away for a split second. "Aren't you the one good at getting into places you aren't suppose to?"

"Well yes, but. Hm." He holds up a hand, index finger half pointed and head slightly tilted. "Is this a challenge?"

You pause. "Yes?"

"Wait right here, darling. I'll be right back."

You turn and watch as he goes to his pack, rustling inside before drawing out whatever it was he was searching for. Then he walks to Karlach, who looks at him with confusion before her face bursts into a grin. Her axe is handed to him, her laugh boisterous as he tries - and fails - to hold it up. There's a bit more back and forth before Astarion physically huffs and comes back to you, tiefling in tow.

"So I hear you're breaking some rules?" is the first thing out of her mouth once you're in earshot.

A smile reaches your lips. "You could say that."

"Sweet. I'll help you guys get on the roof, follow me."

And so you do, out onto the veranda under the bright full moon. Karlach gestures for Astarion, who hands over rope, and she gets to work typing it onto her weapon. One of your eyebrows shoot up as she looks at the roof, bounces the axe a few times in her hand, and throws.

The sound of crunching wood meets your ears. Tugging onto the rope and grinning as the axe holds, Karlach sketches a bow. "Enjoy the stars. If you get caught, that's not my axe."

Astarion gestures to you. "Ladies first, as they say."

Karlach rolls her eyes and heads back inside, muttering, "Thank you, Karlach. You're very welcome, Astarion. Ugh."

You eye the rope warily. "How gentlemanly."

"This was your idea. Now go ahead, and don't worry, I'll consider catching you if you fall."

Huffing but unable to hide the smile, you make your way onto the roof with no issues. Settling onto the tiles, still slightly warm from the sun, you tug your pack onto your lap and look up.

While not as beautiful as they were on the Sword Coast, the stars still twinkle bright and fierce, the moon emphasizing their shine.

"You're not tired of the stars yet?" you hear Astarion ask, settling next to you.

"I don't think I ever will be," you respond, hugging the pack to your chest before turning to him. "That's not why we're here though." Drawing the strings open, you fish out the sketchbook and hesitantly hold it out.

His eyes drop to the book, noting the worn and dented leather, back to you, then back to the book. "What? Are these love poems? For me?"

"Just take it."

Grasping the book with gentle fingers, he settles it onto his lap and flips it open.

Your fingers twine together as his eyes lock onto the contents of the pages. His eyebrows furrow, and you feel your heart sink. "Am I suppose to know who this is?"

Oh. Glancing at him, you say quietly, "It's you."

His chest stills, fingers frozen above the pages.

So quiet, almost blending into the air, you hear him exhale, "What..."

"Turn the page."

So he does. And does again. And again. Each turn more slow, more careful, as his brain processes all he's seeing.

It's him, book in hand, face half in shadow. It's him, head on the owlbear cub's body, one knee up and fingers laced together over his stomach. It's him from behind, arms raised and to the side. It's him, a side countenance, hand on a hip. It's him, his face, the dips of his cheeks and the curve of his jaw, the arch of his brows and bend of his lips, the hair curling around his pointed ears and the nape of his neck.

It's him. On every page, a different angle, a different side of him.

He doesn't speak, barely even breathes, as he takes it all in. As his fingertips trace the panes of his face. Every line, every curve.

Chewing your bottom lip, you shift, unsure if you should break the stifling quiet but knowing you'll go mad if you don't. "I, uh. I said I'd be your mirror, so..."

His inhale is shaky. "You..." Pressing fingers to his eyes, he takes another rasping breath. "There is truly--" His voice hitches and he swallows. "There is truly no one like you."

"I'm glad you like it," you say quietly.

"Like it?" he echoes, hand falling from his face as his eyes snap back to the pages. "I love it."

Smiling gently, you scooch so your shoulders touch, reaching over to give a small, gentle peck to his cheek before slowly resting your head on his shoulder. "The entire book is filled."

He sniffs, a hand wiping across his eyes. "How can I ever..."

"Don't. I didn't do this so you'd pay me back. It's a gift, Astarion."

"A gift I will forever treasure." His head gently rests upon your own, eyes not once straying from the sketches. "Thank you."

You smile. "Always."

[hurts2think]

hook x Male Reader

the reader has water powers

🏴‍☠️Young!James Hook x Reader🏴‍☠️

Reader pronouns: He/him

Pairing: Young!James Hook x Masc! Reader

Plot: You're the son of Ariel and Eric, making you half merman! Well, kind of. You didn't exactly have a fish tail but you had some other cool abilities. And one night while you sat by the shore, your pirate classmate drops by and invites you to join his crew.

Word Count: 1.5k

Extra: Ariel isn't in Descendants at all I'm pretty sure so I think it doesn't really matter where she fits in the timeline, so reader can definitely be son of her. Anyway hope you enjoy! I'm slowly running out of requests so please request more!

Merlin Academy wasn't necessarily know for it's nearby beaches. But being who you were, you always went the extra mile to go to one far off from Merlin Academy. Far off from any town, or people in general. It was always just you.

Your parents were not exactly a 'normal' relationship, so you weren't exactly the most normal son. Your mother was a mermaid, and your father was human. So what did that make you? Nothing too special. It wasn't like you could exactly call yourself a merman, you didn't have a fish tail and weren't capable of transforming or anything like that. But you did inherent something that made you different.

----

At the one beach you could ever find the seashore was filled with large and dark rocks. Heavy waves crashed against them, sending white foam everywhere that glistened in the rising moonlight. The sky turned darker as the streaks of orange and pink faded away from the remaining sunlight, being replaced with purple hues instead. The moonlight refleceted silver on the rippling waves and against the shiny sand. The sound of the waves was calming, echoing in your ears as you breathed in the beachy smell of your surroundings. The cool breeze softly hitting against your face as you smiled.

The first stars began to appear, twinkling above the world.

This was really where you felt most at home. The place you went when the real world became too much for you.

You loved Merlin Academy but you never felt like you could relate to anyone. Everyone had their own dreams and ambitions but you never knew what you wanted to do. What you did know was that the ocean called you. But you were always just out of reach. It was like you were meant to be out there but your legs kept you on the earth's ground.

But while you were enjoying the beauty of the ocean, it seemed someone else had come by. You didn't notice until they hopped over a jagged rock and landed on their feet next to you.

"And what do you think you're doing on my shore?"

You turn eyes widened in surprise at the sudden new person beside you until you recognized who it was. It was none other than James, better known as 'Captian Hook'.

Like anyone, you were not a fan of the VKs. They were always mean and full of themselves so you usually steered clear of them. But you didn't really know much of Hook. He was a pirate and he was from Neverland. That was pretty much it. You only ever saw him as another one of Uliana's henchmen so you never gave him too much of a thought.

"Your shore?" You repeat, furrowing your brows at his very bold claim to the beach.

"Mhm."

You so desperately wished he'd go away. You were very much enjoying your time alone and you had a feeling Hook of all people wasn't going to be the best company, "Right. I don't think you can own a shore."

"Course' I can. I'm a pirate. I own what I want." He smirks, resting his arm on your shoulder, causing you to suppress an eye roll.

You shrug his arm off of you, "You were a pirate in Neverland. I don't recall you sailing any of these seas." You say, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Well that's the great thing about being a pirate, darling. It doesn't matter where I am, if I want it, I take it." He stands proudly, running his fingers through his hair as he appreciates the view of your surroundings, "And I like this beach, so it's mine." He declares once again.

As appealing as it sounded to just be able to claim a beach or a sea as your own, you clearly weren't convinced, "I don't think that's how that works."

"Course' the little prince of the sea thinks that way," Hook replies, leaning his hip against one of the rocks.

"What?"

"Aren't you the kid of some mermaid queen? Half merman or something." He raised a brow.

You look away, "Technically. I wouldn't really call myself a merman though."

Hook laughed mockingly at your response, "Don't tell me you're the son of a mermaid and you came out as a borin human?" He laughed some more, eyeing you with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes, "No. I can do other things." You huff.

"Is that right, prince? Like what?" He asked, his stupid mocking grin never leaving his face.

Instead of saying anything, you stayed silent for a moment. And then you held a finger up and Hook's grin fell into a skeptical look. Well, more like confused as to what you were doing.

But then with one wave of your finger, the water from the waves that was puddled under your feet suddenly started to rise. Bubbles of water floated into the air and you decided to be a little bit of a show off and shape them into butterflies, making the mock butterflies flap their water wings.

A smile creeps onto your face as you see Hook's eyebrows rise in surprise, like it was the last thing he expected to see.

"So you got some kinda water magic?" He asked, observing the water butterflies and trying to poke at one with his hook, but his hook just passed straight through it.

"Yep." You confirmed, making the butterflies circle around as they danced through the moonlight, reflecting off of each other and mimicking a glowing effect.

You suddenly put your hand back down and the water collapsed from the air back to the floor. One of them splashing into Hook's face, making his entire face scrunch as it got soaked.

"Oops." You say, but it was pretty obvious that it wasn't an accident.

Hook did not seem amused by the water to his face. He used his hand to wipe the water off of his skin and push his now wet hair from sticking into his forehead. He then looked back at you, giving an unread about expression.

"Have you thought of ever being a pirate?" He suddenly asked.

You let out a dry laugh before realizing he was serious, "No. Of course not."

He then took a step closer to you, invading your personal space. "A pretty boy with powers like that might make a fine addition to my crew, yeah?" He smirked, gently poking the tip of his hook onto your chest and gently dragging it down to your stomach suggestively, making a shiver shoot up your spine.

"Are you serious?" You push his hook off of you, "No offense but I don't take it that you'd be a great captian." You say, smirking slightly at the jab.

He then draped an arm over your shoulder, he clearly had no sense of personal space which made your heart beat faster, "Well I s'pose there's only one way for you to find that out." He grinned, "You'd love it, ya know? Being out at sea all the time, doing whatever you want whenever you want, causing chaos. It's quite the charming life."

"As nice as it sounds to be out at sea all the time, I don't think I'd say causing chaos is charming." You raise a brow, not pulling away from him this time and just accepting his physical touch. Not that you hated the physical touch, it just felt a little intimidating at first. But something about Hook felt a little more harmless than he wanted to seem. Of course he wasn't totally harmless, you've seen just how dangerous he was. But he just wasn't as mean and awful as you took him for at first.

"You'll grow to like it."

You pause and think for a moment, "How about, if you can convince me by the end of the year, I'll join your crew for the summer and if I like it, I'll join for good." You propose.

"Deal. But you have to use your weird mermaid magic for the crew and how I tell you to." He adds on, holding his hand out for you to shake on it.

You think for a moment before taking his hand and shaking it.

After you two shook on it, he rugged on your hand before letting go, pulling you closer and grabbing you by the waist, "And maybe if you try hard enough you can get some extra benefits on my ship." He smirks.

"Gosh, you are such an awful flirt." You roll your eyes but couldn't hold back the smile from his flirtatious attitude.

"Whatever, you're just too embarrassed to admit you were charmed the moment you saw me." He said confident, letting go of you and dramatically flipping his fingers in his hair.

You laugh, using your magic to spalsh another small orb of water at him, effectively messing up his hair again.

His angry expression was worth it and for the rest of the night you two sat on the shore with back and forth bickering with the occasional flirtatious comment.

It was nice to be around someone who loved the sea as much as you did.

[moonlightkitties]

Ice Fishing - Kieran Duffy x Reader

Plot: You and Kieran go ice fishing!

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 892

Watching your lover scurry around the house, picking up any and everything he could find for a day of ice fishing was cute.

You let out a small giggle and Kieran instantly turned around, his face flushing a bright pink, "What's so funny?" he asked.

"Nothing," you shrug, "It's just cute seeing you this worked up," you told him, "We're just going ice fishing, we're not going across the country."

"I know, I-I just want you to be comfortable," he said, "You're going to be freezing cold." You walked over to him and placed your hands on his face, looking at him, "Kieran, I'm going to fine, I've faced worse than a cold lake," you reassured him. Kieran nodded "I-I know, but still, you can never be too prepared."

After Kieran packed the horses up, you both made your way down towards the frozen lake that would, hopefully, support both yours and Kieran's weight.

You shivered as the cold December wind hit your face. Your horse snorted as you made him keep up and trot to catch up to Kieran and Branwen.

"You doin' okay?" Kieran asked. You gave him a nod "I'm fine, Kieran, it's just a bit chilly," you said. Kieran looked a bit skeptical but he didn't push you to talk. You both stopped in front of the lake and you breathed in, it was gorgeous, fresh snow was lying on top of the hard frozen lake and Kieran was already making his way towards it. You dismounted your horse and followed him.

"Does the ice look like it will hold?" you asked, standing beside him.

"It does. It looks thick enough and look," he pointed at a pack of wolves crossing the lake a few miles away from you both.

"If it's holding up their weight then it should hold up ours," he said, grabbing a saw and his rod while you grabbed the tent and bedrolls.

You stepped onto the ice and while trying your best not to slip and fall, you successfully made your way over to him.

He sawed a decent hole in the lake and you set the tent up and rolled out the bedrolls near the hole so you and Keiran would have a warm spot to fish. Kieran took his fishing pole out, hooked some crawfish on the hook and dipped the hook into the water. A few moments passed and you scooted up closer to Kieran, putting your arm around his and your head on his shoulder.

You could tell his face was red but he didn't tell you to move.

"This is boring," you sighed.

"It just takes a while for a fish to bite," Kieran says with a shrug, "I know it's boring but once I catch it and cook it, it's gonna be worth it."

You both went silent until you started to get a bit more bold.

You rubbed up his leg and bit your lip when you saw him glance down at you, his eyes wide and his face a bright pink.

"W-what are you, doin'?" Kieran asked, his voice cracking.

"Come on," you whispered in his ear, "we can have a few minutes in the tent," you plant light kisses at his neck, making your hand go higher.

"N-not yet," he whimpered.

Before you could say anything else to make him take you in the tent, his fell forward, his face hitting the cold ice and his fishing rod almost getting jerked out of his hand. You both let out a gasp of alarm and Kieran quickly sat back up and reeled his rod in, stopping while the fish was struggling so he wouldn't loose it.

"You can do it, Kieran!" you encouraged from beside him. His brows and face twisted in concentration until, finally, he reeled the fish in. It was a huge sturgeon, it looked bigger than Kieran's arm.

"Woah!" you exclaimed, "that's a big fish!" Kieran nodded and picked it up, taking it a few feet away from the lake and setting it in the snow. "Help me start a fire and we can have this for tonight," he said, rummaging through his bags for a knife. You came back with a few sticks and Kieran was already cutting through and upscaling the huge sturgeon.

While you got the fire started, Kieran walked over and bent down, putting the fish meat in front of the growing fire. You looked at him, he looked so pretty, so sweet, you were so glad you got to spend the rest of your life with him. Kieran handed you some cooked fish and together, you both ate. After you both ate, you made your way into the tents and Kieran pulled you close to him once you laid down.

"I know it wasn't the greatest day but thank you for putting up with me," Kieran says, his head in your neck. You smile and nuzzle into him "Of course, Kieran, I love you and I love spending time with you," you said, giving him a kiss on the lips.

"Good, cause I wanted to spend a few more days out here, who knows how more sturgeons we could find," Kieran said, his voice an excited whisper.

Well, you didn't mind of course, but this was going to be a long, cold, next few days.

[14dayswithyou]

So I just played through the game for the first time and was hit with a terrible thought. In my game, I said that teo and I had had a “fling.” I then realized that Ren, like Teo, has tattoos. So that got me thinking.

What if Ren started getting tattoos because he saw what MC was doing with Teo? He was trying so hard to become everything MC wanted, only to find out that MC was just using Teo as “safe dick,” and didn’t actually care about the tattoos at all.

He may have found that he really likes tattoos, and so he designed them his own way. But there’s NO WAY that MC hooking up with a Big Tattoo Guy (multiple times, according to Teo) wouldn’t have effected his aesthetic at that time. So I wanted to ask, did he have those tattoos before MC met Teo? Or were they reactive?

✦゜ANSWERED: Canonically, Ren gave himself tattoos at a young age out of his own accord!! I spoke about it a year ago here, and very recently here.

Non-canonically (but something Ren would definitely do), is that he would take aspects from Teo's appearance if Angel was genuinely interested in him. Ren's entire shtick is mimicking Angel's hyper-fixations and turning himself into their ideal type — and if that happens to be Teo — then so be it. He'll take inspiration from the way he dresses, how he acts, and the tattoos he gets.

From a storyteller standpoint, however; Teo is supposed to be Ren's narrative foil! I spoke about this topic briefly in the Discord server, but they share a lot of similar characteristics (contrasting colour palette, conflicting personalities, two-tone hair, snake vs koi fish tattoos, 2 gold rings vs 2 gold earrings, etc.). So the tattoos were a deliberate choice!! However, they're not meant to signify that they're the same character or anything. It's just a way for me to kinda show (not tell) that despite two characters being "the same", they can be completely different as well.

But from and even more literal standpoint, Teo is also the direct derivative of 2017!Ren! In the very first version of 14DWY, Teo didn't even exist at all. But when remaking the game, I figured people wouldn't like Ren [with Teo's personality], so I changed him completely. I didn't want to completely scrap the "toxic playboy" character though, so I turned him into Teo and never looked back since

(I looked back once and now half the fandom are in love with him T_T /silly)