#cannot wait to watch these people grow up and do all this shit and just. experience their lives with them. I would die for these idiots | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

foreverinadais · 2 years

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drunk: m.k

summary: after an argument with your boyfriend’s, you all engage in a silent treatment. well, until you get drunk and need jake to pick you up, as well as the others to look after you in your drunken state.

warnings: alcohol use, reader is drunk and in the mood to be a nuisance, sick/vomit, swearing, light angst, fluff!! moon boys taking care of reader, it really goes through the 5 stages of grief in this one

word count: 3.2k :)

a/n: thank you thank you thank you for 400 followers!!!! it’s insane how much support you’ve all shown and i cannot express how much i appreciate it :)

It was around 2 o’clock in the morning when the familiar buzz of a phone echoed around the walls of the flat. It was Jake who awoke to it, cursing under his breath as his eyes refused to open from their interrupted sleep. The buzzing stopped, momentarily offering an ounce of peace which Jake gladly took- until it resumed, a growing insistence in it’s tone which eventually prompted Jake to open his eyes.

The first thing he did was check his watch. Seeing how late, or early, it was suddenly inserted a sense of urgency in him, as he clambered to turn on the lamp beside the bed and roll his body out. The buzzing was still prevalent as Jake finally reached the phone he shared with his alters.

He shouldn’t have been surprised when your face shone on the screen.

You hadn’t called in a couple of days now, neither had he, likely due to a rather explosive, extremely stupid, argument you had gotten in with all of them. It was rather rare to be in an argument with all 3 of your boyfriend’s. But after another squabble about schedules and missions, it was bound to blow up, leading to you leaving and giving the silent treatment. Not that any of them tried to stop you, just as in need of the space and reflection time.

All of you were renowned for your pettiness. Which is why it took Jake a moment to answer the phone. But then, worry settled in as he remembered the time, realised you wouldn’t be calling unless it was absolutely necessary. He didn’t make a move to talk first, figuring you would do that. He was right.

He could hear the muffled booming of music behind you, tacky club sounds that were only tolerable when pissed. Surrounding that, the obnoxious chatter of people Jake could only assume were drunk, all of it moulding into a loud hum in his ears. He cringed in his barely awake state, holding the phone away from his ear briefly before deciding to make his presence known.

“Yeah?”

“Jakeee?” Oh shit. He could automatically tell by your disorientated tone that you were drunk. “ ‘s that you? Jakey?” He felt annoyance rise in him at your nonchalance to the situation, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers.

“Yep. Why you calling?” He was being short with you. In your delirious state, you couldn’t tell.

“I need- hiccup – to be p-picked up because ‘m hungry and tireddd and my friend, she left with this girl and I- hello, doggo, your so cute!- need you.” Jake cussed, muttering a few profanities in Spanish before finding words to reply.

“Mierda, fine. Where are you?”

“Ummm I don’t knowww, wait, excuse me? I love your outfit, wait, sorry, where am I? Can you please message it to my boyfriend- wait can I call him that? We’re- hiccup- angry at each other.” Your voice was slurred, desperate, and Jake suddenly felt a sense of worry at your vulnerability.

“Go wait inside, hmm?” Jake said through the phone, putting on some shoes and grabbing his cap and jacket. It was then his phone pinged, and he realised the strangers you had accounted yourself with had sent your location. You were still mumbling to them about the argument, about your flat, about how painful your feet were due to the dancing and stupid shoes you’d decided to wear.

Jake left you on the phone as he got in his cab, not wasting anytime as he started the engine and all but sped to where you were. It didn’t take him long to arrive, the roads empty but streets alive with people looking for a good time on a Saturday night. He spotted you instantly. You were sat on the sidewalk, a woman and her partner next to you. Your head was in your hands as your, now bare, feet gently kicked the gravel. He swore again, partly at the state you were clearly in, but also at the remnants of annoyance he felt from the not forgotten vendetta.

Jake pulled over quickly, cap secured on his head as he exited his cab and made his way over to you. The people who were sat with you clocked him, one of them meeting the distance, explaining how they stayed with you until he got there, and that you were in a ‘pretty bad state.’ Jake thanked them, making the short way over to where you were sat, still not aware of his presence.

“Y/N,” he said simply, now stood in front of you, but you didn’t notice, too lost in the song you were humming under your breath. He sighed, kneeling in front of you, hand reaching out to touch your forearm. “Hey, c’mon, let’s go.” Your head snapped up; eyes droopy as if you had been sleeping.

“Jakeee you’re here!” You exclaimed, practically falling into his kneeling frame, catching him off guard. “Thought you wouldn’t come because you h-hate me now.” His face twisted in confusion.

“What? Your drunk, let’s get you home, c’mon. Look, I’ll help you up, on three.” You sniffled; arms wrapped around his broad shoulders as he helped manoeuvre you both up. You didn’t let go when you were standing, deciding you couldn’t stand. He was reluctant to wrap an arm around your waist, still slightly angry, but more worried it would offend you. But it was clear it was what you needed as you tumbled, shakily attempting to walk to his car- or, rather, a complete stranger’s car. “Fuck, taking too long, just, walk faster.” You did as he said, maybe too literally, as your arms began to get suffocating, as he gripped your waist, helping you both walk to his cab.

You giggled as his hands unknowingly tickled your side when he helped you get into the passengers seat. “Smells funny in here.” You chuckled, taking an exaggerated sniff of the air. Jake knew it was his cigars he snuck, but chose to ignore you, going to shut the door. “WAIT WHERE ARE YOU- DON’T LEAVE ME!!” your sudden rise in volume made him jump, and he came back as soon as he left.

“I’m getting in the car, ay.” Before turning back and saying, “Seatbelt.”

“Nonono I can’t do it, won’t get in the… thingy.” Jake had the sudden urge to kick something, forgetting how frustrating drunk you can be, especially when sober. He exhaled deeply through his nose before muttering a ‘fine.’ You gasped as he leant over you, face awfully close to you own, so much so he could smell the alcohol on your breath. You couldn’t help but chuckle again as his gloved hand came down by your side, fumbling for the seatbelt and eventually getting it in the buckle.

It was then you thought of the most hilarious idea ever. As he went to get back up, you wrapped your arms round his shoulder and pulled him, so he nearly collapsed back down onto your lap. You let out a belly laugh, tears squeezing your eyes as he shouted, “QUE MIERDA!” He got out, shutting the door slightly louder than usual as he strode to his seat in the front. “Always playing, I swear, estúpido when drinking,”

The car was filled with your chuckles, as if Jake had told a joke, but he was deadly silent. What could he say? You were intoxicated. He couldn’t be mad at you right now, not when you wouldn’t remember it. But he didn’t want to be nice to you, still angry, still not ready to put it behind him completely. He was looking forward to get back to the flat where it would become his alters problem.

And truthfully, the smell of your perfume was beginning to intoxicate his senses.

When the flat finally came into view, Jake breathed a sigh of relief. This, however, diminished when he heard your soft snores filling the small space of the cab. He internally cussed at himself, having previously wondered why you had gone suddenly quiet, realising he would not only have to wake you up, but get you inside.

Jake turned the key in the ignition, engine shutting off with a slight groan. He pinched the bridge of his nose lightly, dreading the moments from now until later. “Why has the road stopped moving?” The voice your voice, broke him from his worries, and when he turned to face you, your eyes were already desperately on his.

“Hasn’t, we have. Gotta get out now.”

“W-Wait, your leaving me again? Please don’t leave me here!” Jake felt something in his chest pang with sadness, but he pushed it away, remembering you were drunk and had little control over your heartfelt pleas.

“ ‘m not leaving you, look, we’re getting out the car together, yeah?” He demonstrated opening the door, motioning for you to do the same, and with a small smile of relief, you did. “There ya go.” He praised lightly as you copied his actions. “Now wait there, I’ll come an’ get you.”

“M’kay, Jakey, I’ll wait.” Fuck. The feeling was back in his chest, harder to push away this time. He did, however, ignore it, long enough to reach where you were sat obediently awaiting him. “Your back!” You quipped excitedly, hands reaching for him in a childlike manner. He didn’t answer, instead helped you up, felt goosebumps arise with every touch of your skin, felt his neck burn as your warm breezed over it.

The journey to the flat wasn’t as hard as he had envisioned. Once you got the hang of walking again, you were off, with his support, of course. You had made it to the door, Jake feeling instant relief wash over him as one of his alters promised it would be their turn. “Marc’s turn now, ‘kay? He’s gonna help- hey, listen, did’ya hear me?”

“Yes, Jake.” You try to say but it comes out as a laugh. “Stay safe.” His voice is stern, but the concern is there, hidden amongst the small façade he always has up. And then his eyes are rolling back, and Jake Lockley is gone for the night- instead, Marc’s there, eyes even harder than his alters. He says nothing as he unlocked the door to the flat, pushing it open with his foot as his arm comes around your waist. You hardly react to the contact, allowing him to guide you through the familiar haze of the apartment, the place that so often felt like home, even when all your senses were torn to shreds.

“Marc…” You suddenly let out, and he notices the buzz on your face has diminished, the way it always does by the end of the night.

“What?” He doesn’t mean to be short with you, really. But a part of him, much like Jake, still held a sort of bitterness- as he always has after an argument.

“Feel sick.” His own stomach drops as he springs into action, cussing loudly as he all but rushes you to the bathroom. Your cheeks are dramatically puffed with air as you gag, Marc barely getting you to the toilet in time before your spilling the remnants of the night into the basin. He sighed, one hand on firmly on your shoulder, helping hold you up, and the other rubbing soft circles on your back.

“C’mon, there you go, get it all out.” You do, until your insides are aching, and head is pounding. Finally, the sick ends. You practically fall backward, Marc barely catching you as he guides you to lean against the wall, figuring that would be an easier task than standing you back up.

“Hurts.” You whisper, burying your face in your hands, knees to your chest. “Your head?” Marc asks, but he already knows that’s the answer.

“My heart.” Oh. He turned to look at you, properly, for the first time since you came into the flat; you look terrible. Your top is hanging off your body, the action of leaning over the basin making it scramble to stay on right. Your mascara is smudged from tears. Your eyes are struggling to stay open, drooping further by the minute, and your hair has become a mess on top of your head.

Yet, Marc can’t help but think you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever laid his eyes upon.

No matter what situation you all found yourselves in, he would always think that. Always.

When he next spoke, the edge to his voice was gone, replaced with a layer of sympathy and compassion- not that you noticed, nor particularly cared. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” He helped you stand up on your feet, trying to ignore your soft sniffles as you came down form the high of a night out. He couldn’t help but swipe a tear away from your cheek, leaving his thumb for a second longer than he knew he should, just to revel in your skin.

He started by wiping off as much of your make-up as he could, using one of the wipes you had stocked in his cupboard. When he turned on the tap, you groaned. “Hey, it’s okay, look, it’ll help your headache.”

“Noo, ‘s cold.”

“It’ll feel nice.”

“Promise?”

“Yes.”

“Pinkie promise?” Marc rolled his eyes as you held up your pinkie finger but didn’t refuse it. Instead, he interlocked his own with yours, grateful to see a least the hint of a smile tugging at the end of your lips. The water did ,in fact, offer some comfort from the heat and sweat on your skin, and you thanked Marc for keeping his promise. “Good job. Wanna brush your teeth?”

“You still have my toothbrush.” It was the first coherent sentence you had said in a while. He followed to where you were pointing, your toothbrush stood proudly with the boys. “Course, we do. It’s only been a few days.” “Thought you’d throw it away by now.”

“What d’you mean?”

“That you don’t love me anymore.” Marc swore his heart broke a little. His thoughts became jumbled, swirling around each other as he took in your words.

“What… are you, are you serious?”

“Can you do it for me?”

“Huh?” It took a moment for him to register what you were asking until you grabbed your toothbrush and held it out for him.

“Please?” Perhaps it was your pleading, or your eyes whilst saying it, but Marc couldn’t resist, taking the toothbrush and getting it ready. It was silly, really silly, especially since your mouth was already open as wide as it could be, teeth on display. Marc cleared his throat, debating on whether this was a task he wanted to do, before deciding the sooner he did, the sooner you could go to sleep. And so, he did.

You didn’t react at first, not even when Marc talked you through the first step. But suddenly, you found the situation rather amusing, a giggle leaving your lips as Marc brushed your back teeth. “What?” You didn’t respond at first, just laughed, and he found himself laughing too.

“’s weird.” You whispered, a hiccup escaping your mouth as Marc agreed.

“Certainly didn’t think I’d be doing this tonight, that’s for sure.”

“Sorry that I ruined your plans.”

“Yeah, well, your lucky I love you.” It came out so naturally, without question, that even in your drunken state, you knew he meant it. It was silent for the rest of the minute. When you were done, Marc told you to spit, which you did immediately. Marc suddenly realised what you were wearing. “Oh shit, wait here, lemme get you some clothes.”

“But I’m wearing clothes.”

“Clothes to sleep in.”

“…oh.” You said suggestively, and Marc raised an eyebrow.

“Stop messin’ around, need to get you changed.”

“Okay, Marc.”

“You gonna wait here?”

“Whatever you say, Marc.” His heart dropped every time you said his name, as if it were given a different meaning every time it left your lips. He was back quickly with one of the tops from the draw you had in their flat, the one he knew was your favourite.

“Arms up, baby.” The name slipped out, but you didn’t notice- it might’ve well as been your name from him. You obliged, silent now. He was grateful that the task didn’t take long, and soon enough, you were dressed comfortably. “All done.” He muttered, mostly to himself, but you smiled, reaching for his hand.

“Thank you, Marc.” He let his thumb rub over the skin of your palm, let his eyes lock with yours, pupils dilated. And then it wasn’t his eyes you were staring at anymore. “Hello, Steven.” You whispered, smiling.

“Hiya, lovie. Let’s get you to bed, yeah?” He had already helped you up, hand still holding yours as he directed you the short distance to the bed.

“Why, Mr Grant, are you trying to get me into bed?”

“Very funny. C’mon, your very tired, practically fallin’ asleep walking, eh? Besides, your much too drunk to do anything expect from sleep peacefully. Look, I’ll tuck you in so you can do just that.” Steven pulled the duvet back for you to climb into the bed, and you instantly found comfort in their smell, the sheets that moulded against your body so well. It was familiar, it was home.

Steven kept his promise, pulling the duvet tightly over your body so that it was hugging you. He even went as far as lifting your head up with one hand plumping the pillow behind it, before gently placing it back down. “All better.” He muttered, proud at his work of making you a human cocoon.

“Thank you, Steven.”

“Your very welcome. Do you need anything?” You shook your head, eyes already closing from the undeniable comfort of the sheets.

“Okay. Welp, if you change your mind, gimme a shout, okay? I’ll just be on the sofa.” Your eyes shot back open, realisation hitting as you felt his presence leaving your side.

“No, wait, w-where are you going? Why are you leaving me?” Your eyes were getting watery as your hand reached out to tug on Steven’s shirt.

“No-no-no, ‘m not leaving you, would never leave you… I’m just over there, look.” You didn’t glance as he tried to show you the sofa, eyes trained on his own.

“Please…can you stay with me?” His eyes widened slightly, not sure if he should, not sure if you would wake up and be mad at him for staying in the same bed after not being on speaking terms. But the pout on your lips, the gentle tug on his shirt, the tears in your eyes… he agreed, slowly getting into the bed next to you.

He was surprised when you instantly snuck out his warmth, snuggling into his side and breathing a sigh of relief. His arms sought place on your frame- one over your shoulders, the other stroking the back of your neck. He thought you were asleep when your breathing got heavier, until your voice spoke again.

“Steven?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you angry at me?” He smiled, shaking his head, though you couldn’t see.

“No, love.”

“Really?”

“Course not. It’s in the past, yeah? Let’s just focus on getting you rested and better.”

“So you’ll stay with me?”

“All night long ‘till the sun comes up.”

“Steven?”

“Yes, darling?”

“Thank you for taking care ‘f me.”

“Of course, love.” And he smiled as he heard your gentle snores, feeling on the cusp of sleep himself. “Always.”

tags: @dalia-12-3 @kotonei-molyneux @lovepeaceorelse @lokilover476 @alexxavicry @later-gators12

#Moon Knight #moon knight imagine #moon knight angst #moon knight ff #moon knight fluff #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #jake lockely x reader #steven grant #marc spector #jake lockely #steven grant fanfiction #jake lockley fanfiction #marc spector fanfiction #fluff #angst

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wrens-writings · 22 days

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The Monster’s Gone

: ̗̀➛ Percy Jackson x platonic! child of Poseidon! reader

: ̗̀➛ in which big brother Percy saves the day

: ̗̀➛ oh gods, folks. here it is! my first piece of writing posted to tumblr. i have absolutely zero clue about what it is that i’m doing, but here we go!

: ̗̀➛ WARNINGS: bad writing (probably), allusions to angst. i don’t think anything else? lmk if i missed anything 🫶

percy adores being a big brother. someone that only he gets to pick on? that’s a bonus, yea, but the real reason he loves it? watching his little siblings grow up and experience the things their lives would offer.

with tyson, percy was his friend before he was his brother, but he still helps him to understand the world above the sea when applicable. tyson is like an overgrown puppy, a comparison that many people, including sally jackson herself, have pointed out.

and then of course, there’s sweet little estelle, who has her whole life ahead of her that percy just cannot wait to be a part of.

but then comes the outlier. you. don’t get him wrong! he loves you as much as he does all of his siblings. but you’re so traumatized that he just… doesn’t know what to do with you?

when he got to camp for the summer, excited and eager for a killer two and a half months with his girlfriend and his best friends, he was taken aback. normally, himself and tyson were the only two to be in poseidons cabin. yet there you were, a small 11 year old wringing their hands together in cabin 3.

percy had looked at you, eyes wide and full of confusion. “annabeth.” he murmured to the pretty blonde who stood beside him.

“yes, percy?” she responded carefully, seemingly already knowing what he was going to say next.

percy turned to his girlfriend, his face twisted with conflicting emotions. “why is there a child in my cabin and where did they come from?”

and thus begins the summer of percy jackson awkwardly tiptoeing around his new sibling. annabeth had explained to him that the poor kid was chucked into the foster system at a young age, forced to be exposed to more horrors than he would’ve liked for a sibling of his. but with those horrors, came a small issue.

how was he meant to get to know you if you were scared of your own shadow from the trauma you experienced? he knows firsthand just how terrifying this world can get. hades, he fought the chimera when he was just a year older than you and would’ve died if it weren’t for poseidon himself!

it isn’t all bad though. percy knows a handful of things about you. he knows that you like the beach (which, hey, so does he!), he knows that you like spicy food, reading, drawing, and he knows that you’ll probably shit bricks when you inevitably encounter your first monster.

the poor boy has this innate desire to protect you in the way you’ve never been protected before, but he’s so afraid to make you upset or uncomfortable. he’s stuck at a crossroads. so, what does he do?

wallows in his own mind because adhd is a bitch! eventually, despite his whining and complaining at the idea of hurting you, annabeth and grover manage to talk some sense into him.

“guys, i- i don’t know. they’re so young and so scared of everything. how would i even-“

“percy!” grover cuts him off, his eyes narrowing at his best friend. “think of it from y/n’s perspective. they show up after getting exposed to a world they are actually so scared of, and the only thing that makes them feel better is the promise of a big brother.”

percy sits in silence, his ears burning red with shame. annabeth puts her hand on his arm softly with a kinder approach. “just go talk to them. i promise they won’t bite you.” she reassures him. ever the daughter of wisdom, that one.

percy nods and stands up, intent on finding his new sibling, wanting to put them at ease, even just a little bit. he sets off, initially heading towards the beach.

when he arrives, his lips tug down into a frown. despite the beautiful scenery of camp, especially the view from the beach, you aren’t here. he peers through the pretty, looming trees, trying to catch a glimpse of you. his frown only deepens at the sight of your book bag, but no you. “y/n?” he calls out, his voice laced with fear.

when he gets no response, he scoops up your bag and carries it with him towards cabin 3, figuring you just forgot it like the absent minded kid he hopes you are. except, you aren’t in the cabin either. now he’s starting to worry.

he puts your bag down on your bed neatly before rushing back out. he double checks the beach— nothing. he checks the dining pavilion— also nothing. he looks around the arena, the climbing wall, the archery range, even stopping into the infirmary to see if you’re laying there injured and no one thought to tell him. but he turns pale as a sheet when will solace tells him he hasn’t seen you.

percy runs into the forest, uncapping Riptide as he leaps over a fallen log. of course, you probably just wandered off by accident. after all, why would you leave your book bag at the beach?

a scream that sounds heartbreakingly like you echoes from further in the woods and instantly he heads in that direction. didn’t anyone tell you that the woods are full of monsters?!

he breaks through the trees, slashing his sword clean through a hellhound as it lunges towards you. after a terrifying few moments alone while he secures your safety, percy takes you into his arms.

the hug is tight, protective, full of warmth and love, fear and panic. “shh, i’ve got you…” he whispered in your ear, trying to soothe your fearful blubbering. “the monster’s gone. he’s on the run, and your big brother is here.” he reassures you, pressing a soft kiss to the side of your head.

he doesn’t care about the tears that soak his shirt, or even the snot that does the same thing. all he cares about is that you are safe and not injured. he pulls back from the tight hug briefly. “hey, kiddo. you hurt anywhere?” he whispers, his voice strained and fragile.

“n-no. ‘m okay…” you stammer out, your own voice matching his. he kisses your head again, breathing out a sigh of relief. “thank you, percy…” you whisper quietly in his ear. you can’t do much besides whisper at this point, and who is he to judge?

percy squeezes you tighter, his body shaking from the fear of you being hurt “always, kiddo. i’m always gonna be there when you need me. rain or shine, day or night. i’m your big brother. that’s my job.”

soooooo…? gimmie your thoughts, pls!! bare in mind that i’m scared shitless of constructive criticism tho 😭🤚

i’m not the greatest at writing fanfiction but i’m really eager to learn more. your feedback is much appreciated 🫶

#ೃ⁀➷ wrens ramblings #ೃ⁀➷ wrens tidbits #ೃ⁀➷ wrens writings #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson x reader #percy series #percy pjo

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sumiez · 2 years

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so.. hear me out.. you know how kurt says he’s “all about love” on his stream? how about reader is almost as unhinged as he is, showing up to every stream and viewing every video. they understand and worship the lesson. now that he’s all about love reader is too and tries to get him to love them back

- n.e

paparazzi | kurt kunkle

warnings: typical spree stuff, obsessions, hit and runs, makeout sessions

a/n: first kurt request.. i hope i did him justice!! love the idea btw i love when readers are just as cuckoo as him

to call yourself obsessed with kurtsworld96 is a grave understatement. you weren't sure exactly how you discovered such an obscure influencer, it was likely youtube's algorithm being generous, but it was one of the best things to ever happen to you.

every video of his would receive a like from you. every stream would result in you two chatting about anything and everything before it inevitably ends with his mom calling him down for dinner. but that was the extent of your relationship—a fan and content creator.

you're enamoured with the idea of becoming his number one fan, his ride or die, his most loyal follower. every time he greets you on stream your heart soars.

once he began the lesson, however, you became determined to meet him. a real, genuine meeting, and you were going to win him over for good. you worship the lesson, it's not staged prank content like his friend bobby, it's real. it's gritty. and, in your opinion, incredibly attractive.

who cares about the people you left behind to travel all the way to outside LA. kurt is all that matters in your lovesick state.

opening the gogo app, you frantically search for kurt's description. according to his stream, he should be searching for unlucky victims right about now, despite spree being suspended.

you're about to grow frustrated until you see your saviour's profile appear. you couldn't possibly be happier.

immediately requesting a ride, you fish out your handcrafted, shoddily made kurtsworld hat and drop it onto the top of your head. you cannot wait to see the look on his face when he catches you adorning it.

after a few minutes of listening to him ramble to the camera about how he's surprised no passengers have recognized him, you hear him announce that he thinks he has his eyes on the prize—you.

you enter the stolen vehicle with a skip in your step, except this time you find comfort in the passenger seat.

"whoa whoa w—hey, wait, is that a..?" he stammers out, initially apprehensive at your choice of seating but you see him ease up once he notices your headwear.

"yes, kurt, i'm literally your biggest fan," you answer breathlessly, showing off your hat to the camera. "i loved watching you kill all those jerks, but now that you're all about love it's even better, you know? i've been watch—"

you're interrupted by kurt laughing out of pure glee. he's never felt this loved before. "holy shit you guys, we actually ... we have a real fan in the house," he trips over his own words out of unfiltered excitement. he made it. fuck his other tens of thousands of viewers, this person, this angel, is all that matters.

the two of you spend what feels like an eternity chatting, just like old times.

"what's your favourite video i've made?" he asks, and if your vision isn't deceiving you, he's blushing. hard.

"gotta be your horror movie reviews. i liked you before the lesson too. but your water bottle tutorial was really useful too, i know a few people who really need to drink one." you reply instantly, as if you planned out the whole conversation.

in truth, you did rehearse your answers to certain questions, you're infatuated with your plan to impress kurt and win him over. some may call you unhinged, but you're the kind of person who'd do anything for love.

the chat isn't too fond of your friendly behaviour with each other. they're begging for something gory to happen, and honestly, a death at kurt's hand isn't something you'd hate that much.

he listens for their pleas to start driving and places his hands on the wheel. "you want to go to the...construction site, right...?" he asks with a raised brow.

"yeah! i loved the gummy bear part of the stream, i'd love to check the place out myself." a smile graces his features in response to your words. he's still shocked that someone actually likes his content enough to spend time with him.

as you drive down the bumpy road, he pipes up. "so, like, what's your handle? i'll follow you back,"

"we've been mutuals for years, kurt."

"wait, you're—" he repeats your username, the one person other than bobby who continuously tunes into his content. "damn. that's so cool. it was always...neat seeing you pop in,"

you perk up as your face grows warm, "you really think so? it means a lot."

"of... of course i think so. i couldn't have done it without... well, you..."

as he steers, you embrace the boldness kurt gives you and you peck him on the cheek. the skin is flushed beneath your lips, and he nearly crashes at the contact.

"i... oh god, you just.. i really... i really want to.."

"look! some dumbass is crossing the street! hit them, hit them!" you jump out of your seat and point towards a middle aged man, and kurt speeds up.

he's so flustered that he's still registering the kiss, but he complies, hitting the pedestrian with a bone—chilling thump.

his viewers are growing every second, the chat congratulating him for getting some action, while others toss insults at the life you two just ended.

"our first kill," you say as you two lock eyes and he has the giddiest grin on his face.

finally reaching your destination, he opens the driver side door and does a loop around the car to open yours. such a gentleman.

with his clammy hand in yours, you step out.

"sooo, this is the spot where i ran that douchebag over," he points around the area, shuffling his feet. "i can... show you the junkyard with the dogs too, if you want."

you nod enthusiastically, "i'd love to see that."

"great, great. uhh.." as he thinks of what to say next, you approach him. draping your arms around his neck, you press a kiss to his chapped lips. he can't help but groan at your touch, never having kissed anybody like this before.

he instinctively pulls you off.

"i... that was..."

"nice?"

"yeah. nice. do you wanna take this to my...back to my car, or something?" nodding again at his words, you reach for his hand again and stroll to the vehicle with him.

you crawl inside and kurt immediately gets comfortable on top of you, shoving his face into yours. you can tell he's inexperienced when it comes to kissing, but you return the touches, fingers finding refuge in his tufts of hair. his kisses are sloppy but passionate, his longing to be loved presenting itself in each action.

"i've always wanted to..." he mutters as he pulls away for air. "...kiss someone like that. i'm glad it was a fan and not some jerk at one of bobby's parties,"

your heart hammers in your chest as you respond with another breathless kiss. you're actually kissing your idol, and his entire stream is watching. kinda forgot about that.

without warning, a police car skids into the lot, and you and kurt exchange glances of horror.

he rushes to the driver's seat, yelling at you to put on a seatbelt as he preps for blastoff.

he peels out of the area, driving to god knows where.

"well, my little... partner in crime... do you wanna finish what we started somewhere else?"

"of course."

#kurt kunkle x reader #kurt kunkle #kurt kunkle imagine

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oftenwantedafton · 3 months

Text

Moody and Gray - William Afton x Female Reader

Chapter 2

Rating - Explicit

Warnings - none for this chapter

Also available on AO3

Team building exercises are something else about your job that you despise.

You can’t fathom why the company insists on these types of activities; it’s just a gig at a restaurant, not a career. You don’t want to get to know any of the other employees any better than you already do. You know exactly which creeps to avoid, who you can borrow a tampon from, and which bitch is going to rat you out if you take an extra five minutes for break.

It’s like the corny videos you had to watch during orientation. Why are we pretending that anyone here is having fun? It’s work. It’s not supposed to be fun.

You really can’t take much more of this ‘reciting positive statements together’ nonsense like you’re in a child’s classroom. Your eyes dart around, trying to think up an excuse to slip away and escape this torture. They’re about to start a scavenger hunt. That’s as good a reason to go get lost somewhere as any.

You slip between the Employees Only doors and heave a sigh of relief. Much better. The voices beyond the closed doors grow more muffled as you make your way down the hall. It’s cold back here. Probably not properly heated. Cheap bastard. Speaking of which. Where was Mr. Afton, anyway? You’d seen him at the very beginning of the gathering and then he’d disappeared. He was probably brooding in his office or something. Whatever.

Don’t think about the way his hands feel on you. Or that voice. Definitely not that.

You’re about to pass the staff restrooms when you pause. Well, fuck it, you might as well hit the John. You hate having to use the public ones for the customers. You cannot find a single reasonable explanation for why so many unsavory things end up in so many different places. The floor, okay, yeah, guys can’t aim for shit. But the walls? In the girls’ room? Gross. People were slobs.

You tug on the female restroom door and meet resistance. It’s locked? Well, okay. Men’s room it is.

There’s a single stall and a sink. It actually blessedly doesn’t smell like piss in here and the floor isn’t sticky.

You’re just about to pull the stall door open when you realize the room is already occupied.

“Sorry, man. I’ll wait outside.” You turn to leave and a familiar voice freezes you in your tracks.

“I’ll be out in just a moment.” Fuck. No fucking way was it Mr. Prim and Proper with his stupid purple vest and his gorgeous hands, why did his even look like that anyway, the fingers long and slender, elegant, deft in their movements and fuck you’re doing it again, don’t think about it…

The toilet flushes and the stall door opens and yes, it is indeed the owner and yes, he does have his stupid purple vest on that makes his shoulders look broad and his waist narrow and for fuck’s sake can you just have a session with your vibrator so you’re not this thirsty at God damn work of all places?

“I assume you’re aware this is the men’s room,” he says, pushing past you— the room was rather small, it was surely warranted—and begins lathering his hands at the sink. Those stupid fucking warm agile hands.

“The ladies’ room was locked.”

“Was it? Hmmm.” He begins rinsing his hands.

“Why aren’t you at that stup—the team building thing?”

You see his teeth flash as his eyes meet yours in the mirror. “Well, for one thing, I’m the owner and I can do whatever I want. For another…” He shuts off the faucet and tears a couple of paper towels from the dispenser, taking his time to dry each finger individually. You always end up leaving after a hasty pat with your hands still half soaked. “…Why aren’t you at the ‘stupid team building thing’ as you so eloquently phrased it?”

“I…I had to use the restroom.”

“Indeed. Which you’ve still neglected to do.”

“I mean, we’re in the middle of talking. It would be kind of rude.”

“What part are they up to?”

“Scavenger hunt.”

“Ah. Well, that one’s not quite so bad. What are you supposed to be searching for?”

“Tokens.”

“Well, that’s easily solved. I always carry some with me.” He reaches into his pocket and withdraws a handful of bronze colored coins etched with the Freddy Fazbear logo. You hold out your hand, thinking he’ll just drop them there, but of course he doesn’t. Of course he presses them into your palm, and they’re warm from his body heat, where they’ve been tucked snugly against his thigh.

“Uh…thanks,” you mutter awkwardly, shoving them into your own pants pocket.

“That’s not the shirt I lent you the other day,” William murmurs.

“No,” you agree quietly.

“You haven’t worn it again since.”

“I…” How did he know? You’ve barely seen him since last week and only at a distance. “It was a little small.”

“I think it fit rather well, myself.” He grins at you. Predatory. Feral. The pale gray eyes go dark as his pupils dilate. He pushes past you again, this time letting his fingers drag across your bare arm as he leaves.

The door swings closed and you let out the breath you’ve been holding.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

***

You’ve never thought it fair that the employees who smoke get so much extra time to leave the floor. They weren’t supposed to get more than two trips per shift but you knew for a fact people abused the fuck out of that.

It kind of makes you want to take up the habit yourself just to use it as an excuse to get away from the kids and the puke and the bellowing prerecorded voices of the animatronics.

Tonight you decide fuck it, you’re going outside, winter or not. You need fresh air. You need to get the smell of undigested ice cream out of your nostrils.

You shrug into your coat, a second hand puffer that’s lost most of the puff and is more just a shell of nylon. A blast of cold air greets you as you emerge from the rear of the building.

You wrap your arms around yourself, watching your breath cloud the air in front of your face.

“I don’t suppose you have a lighter on you?”

Your head snaps in the direction of the sound. It’s Mr. Afton.

“No, sorry. I don’t smoke.”

“Hang on. Maybe I’ve got one in my…there’s a rip in one of the pockets…there it is.” He withdraws the lighter—purple, of course—from the depths of a long black wool dress coat and ignites the end of the cigarette, taking a deep drag and exhaling before dropping the lighter back into his pocket. “If you’re not a smoker, why are you in the designated employee smoking area?”

“I don’t know. I just…I needed some air. One of the kids puked in there.”

“Children do vomit often, yes.” Another inhale and exhale.

“I didn’t know you smoked.”

“When the mood strikes me. A way to relieve stress. You know how it is.” His head tips to regard you thoughtfully. “Maybe you should try it, Moody.”

“My name’s not…oh.” Your cheeks flush. He was teasing you now. Great. “It’s bad for you.”

He sighs impatiently. “Lots of things in this world are bad for you. If you live hard and fast by that rule you’re never going to enjoy life.” He flicks the end of the cigarette with his thumb, sending a cloud of spark lit ashes to the pavement. “Why do you work here?”

You shuffle your feet, trying to generate some warmth. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, why…do…you…work…here?” With each word he steps closer to you, now standing in front of you.

You shrug. “It’s just a job. A way to make ends meet.”

“Exactly. So why not pick another one if you’re so miserable here?”

Your eyes shift from your employer’s tense gaze. There’s a piece of lint on his shoulder that’s driving you mad.

“There must be a reason.” Another drag. He sends the smoke to the side so he doesn’t douse you with it.

“I…I like someone,” you reply evasively.

The tall man barks a short laugh. “Seriously? That’s the reason you’re sticking around? Because you have a crush on one of the other staff members?”

You’re regretting your decision to come outside more and more with each passing second. “It’s not a crush,” you protest.

“Oh? What would you call it, then?” He looks positively smug.

“I could report you for harassment.” The words escape before you can rethink them. “For what happened last week, in your office.” You’re irritated. He has no right to mock you.

“Now why would you want to do that?” The amusement is gone from his lips. He stares hard at you, the lit end of his neglected cigarette burning more and more of the paper. “Since we both know it wasn’t harassment.” He drops the cigarette and grinds it underneath his heel before advancing even closer. You’re backed up against the wall behind you. There’s nowhere left to go. “Because it can’t very well be harassment when you beg for it, can it?” He rests a hand on the brick and mortar behind you. You can smell the ash on him, heavy on his breath and threaded in his coat and laced in his hair.

“I didn’t beg.”

“Not with words.” He chews his bottom lip. “Who’s your crush on?”

You shake your head, refusing to answer but maintaining your boss’ gaze.

“Who’s the reason you’re staying here?”

Relentless. He was never going to let this drop. You’ll still be pinned against the wall come summer at this rate. “You.”

You’re not sure what you’d expected for a response to that confession. A wry twist of lips or another laugh, maybe.

Certainly not his mouth crushing against yours, giving you your first taste of nicotine.

#william afton x you #william afton x reader #william afton #fnaf fanfic

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iamafictionfreak · 5 months

Text

TIS THE SEASON TO BE MERTHUR!

Just... Look at them!

I miss everything about this show. Even the very bad CGI and the weak-ass plot points/armour/conveniences/contrivances.

One Christmas Eve, almost 11 years ago, the entire Merlin fandom was butchered into tiny little distraught pieces. It didn’t matter if your favourite character was Merlin or Morgana, Gaius or Gwen. The showrunners held no qualms in destroying your dreams for Gwaine or Perce. The writers did not hold back in their aim to crucify the smile on your face, to forever turn it upside down. No ship was spared. All hopes for the show to finally commit to their original intent, to bring peace between peoples, to save Albion, to allow Merlin his freedom and Arthur the truth, was brought to a bitter, fatalistic end.

Not that I need to repeat this to you, you know what happened, but it’s worth reiterating that this travesty occurred… on Christmas Eve.

CHRISTMAS. EVE.

Christmas Eve.

The night before Christmas, the night before the day where all rules are broken and we can frolic like children around a decorated tree filled with twinkling lights, our collective hearts were shredded.

This event (once we recovered a tiny bit from the shock) gave birth to a plethora of astonishingly well written, poignant, devastating, hilarious fanfictions that had helped nurse our wounds, for nothing could TRULY heal (except a follow-up season with the original characters, come ON BBC) us.

After nearly 11 years of watching these brilliant entries grow, I never thought I’d jump on this bandwagon and write my own fic.

But I've had a few very shit years, as have many people around the world, and I started to wonder as we do when we want to prove magic can still happen.

My brain decided that it wanted my hands to write the most indulgent, likely over done fic in existence for the fandom. This thought stuck with me throughout the year – I was being STALKED by myself – and wouldn’t leave me the hell alone. This hasn’t happened in a long while.

Still… you’ll eyeroll at the idea. It's so OBVIOUS, I'm embarrassed by myself.

What if Arthur discovered Merlin’s magic from the get-go, from episode 1?

WAIT. Hear me out…

So, Merlin saves Arthur for the first time and Arthur SEES. He sees his eyes glow.

He knows he should tell his father, but his instincts are screaming at him. Honour is at stake. This stranger saved his life. How could he reward it with an execution? So, a chance needs to be given, doesn’t it? A chance for Merlin to give up magic forever and live a life of goodness, to turn away from evil and serve Arthur…

Except Arthur can’t help but wonder. About Magic, about Merlin and magic, about the law and all the whys attached and his place within this chain.

But he also can’t trust this peasant who cavorts with the devil, practices wickedness but smiles like a child and offers compassion to everyone. Someone so duplicitous must be dangerous… except Merlin’s an actual idiot! And it’s getting really difficult to keep his guard up.

But isn’t that how sorcerers work? They twist the mind with pleasing ideas, they tempt and coerce, they manipulate.

And slowly, Arthur finds himself being manipulated too. For how could he ever want to trust this man- but he does. He does.

And we’ve never been allowed to see Merlin deal with a S1 Arthur who’s in the ‘know’. Who’s forcing him to keep it secret, who’s threatening him with trial by fire, a young Arthur who’s ignorant, arrogant and so desperate to understand what he cannot trust.

Then there's the layers, royalty versus peasantry, friendship versus alliances, goals versus ideals.

I want to write a fic where this trust is built from the ground up. One of the things about the show that made it impossible for me to let it go is that the ‘relationship’ between Arthur and Merlin fits exactly zero categories, yet all of them.

Master and servant.

Friends

Family

Allies

Enemies

Romantic ideals

Platonic soulmates

Absolute Soulmates

I could go on. And it's one of those rare shows where the writing would be given more oomph if the males leads had dared cross a line or two.

Realistically, they weren't even friends. They were master and servant who'd become a little co-dependant. Arthur could never admit to anything more because of his station, but would he have been able to being completely himself around Merlin if he'd known the truth? We never see Arthur truly be himself. He wasn't allowed to be, not even with his wife. There was always a wall - it was how he was raised and any attempt to develop was killed by plot.

We never saw Merlin completely free, not with a single person. He started happy and healthy and innocent. A liar. He ended up bitter and terrified and angry and alone. Still a liar.

What would he have become if there'd been one person he could truly trust- not Gaius. Not a man already broken and brainwashed by his own self. A victim of the system just as much as he perpetuated the hate and completely unaware of the trap he lived in.

Many of the characters in the show have the versatility and potential to be written a trillion different ways, is it any wonder that fics continue to be written?

Well, I wanted to explore a slow burn development of trust, with Arthur learning how wrong he was, how much he’s trampled on, and all about the seemingly normal peasant boy who meant more to the world than Arthur could possibly understand. What would they have become if they’d been given the time, hm?

When they were young - yes, I'm going there - wild and free.

What of Morgana, what if she could have trusted? What if she could have understood? Would it have turned out differently? Would she have still become the other side of Uther's coin?

Would Merlin still have ended up alone?

There’s lots more I wanted to touch upon, it’s a big what if, but that’ll have to wait for another post.

I’m writing a 5 part prologue that occurs between episode 1 and 2. I’m hoping to release it for Christmas and then take the time to write the rest of the season.

Unless… you guys think it’s a waste of time? Let me know.

In the meantime, I’m STILL SUFFERING (fucking show) and it's making me write, write, write!

(gifs not mine)

#merlin #arthur pendragon #merlin bbc #merlin emrys #guinevere #morgana #Gaius #uther pendragon #fuck uther #potential #merthur #merlin fanfic #merlin fandom

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proseka-headcanons · 1 month

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hi hi! just wanted to rant a bit about my fav ships <3

AKIKASA where they're both pining on each other but Tsukasa is dense and Akito is in denial like why of all people i have a crush on him?? what the fuck aint no way in hell. but tsukasa's love language is touch and he likes to hug an unexpecting Akito and at first Akito would freeze up but slowly he started hesitantly hugs back and hides his face in Tsukasa's neck to hide his flaming red face...

RUITOYA where Toya for some reason always crosses path with his eccentric yet nice senpai for some reason and always felt his cheeks heating up when he's around Rui and Rui who knows he has a crush on Toya and knows Toya has a crush on him but decided not to say anything just because he loves seeing Toya all flustered. where Toya would often visit Rui on the rooftop to watch him work on his latest invention, and they would talk or stay in a comfortable silence. where Toya would smile brightly and Rui could only watch with widened eyes as he wishes that one day he can call Toya his.

MIZUAN where they always hang out after school either going clothes shopping or to the arcade, and An always reassuring Mizuki when she's insecure, using her Students Committee benefits to defend Mizuki from her bullies and trading her ribbon with Mizuki's tie to make her feel better. and Mizuki is slowly growing a crush on this determined and kind-hearted girl and An's already small crush on Mizuki grew as time passes. where when something bad happens to either of them, seeing the other would instantly make their days better, if just a bit.

ENAIRI where they have a crush on each other since long ago and they're basically the childhood friends to lovers troop. where Airi would always compliments Ena's drawings and Ena always goes to Airi's concerts. and everytime they touch each other they started blushing madly to the point that even Akito kept pushing her sister to confess. where when they're together it's just them hanging out and then half way both of them realized "wait oh god i'm hanging out with my crush fuck-" and their faces would turn as red as tomatoes.

ICHISHIHO where Ichika slowly fell first and Shiho fell harder. where they spend hours after classes to play their guitar and bass and tuning it, or syncing with each other, or they discuss what songs to sing next for their concerts. where Ichika would softly hum while playing his guitar and Shiho would watch silently in awe, not believing his eyes bc why is his friend so fuckin handsome and oh god he's heart is beating fast-

HONAKANA where it's just- so domestic. where Honami instead of usually once a week and for work now went to Kanade's home at every chances she got and its not for work anymore, bringing him homemade apple pies and they would spend hours just enjoying each other's presence over tea and pies. where Kanade would show Honami some of his songs that he's working on, where Honami would eventually show Kanade some of her songs and they would now make songs together. where Honami staying over is now a normal thing, where Kanade finally starts going out more just to meet up with Honami who'll show him some of the best places for apple pies and CD records.

...and Nene Kusanagi, who has to put up with all of their slow-burn and pining shits. because after all, the reason they all kissed in the end, is because HE PLAYS MATCH MAKER FOR ALL OF THEM-

(Nene who bought himself a new console game to celebrate the fact he managed to get all his friends together)

i can literally go on about any of them but this is long enough and my fingers fuckin hurts-

as Nene (real) I would do this - 🎮

i would not do this bc i am the real akito shinonome, i would know (he would do that) - 🥞

I just woke up so I cannot brain but hell yeaj I love gay people -🦈

AIRIENA I agree - mod ena

#mod nene #mod akito #mod ichika #mod ena #proseka headcanons #project sekai #pjsk #prsk #project sekai colorful stage #prosekai #project sekai headcanons #ichishiho #akikasa #mizuan #airiena #ruitoya #honakana

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bengiyo · 3 months

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Gav and Cai Hira and Kiyoi Teh and Oh

aka my top 3 and TanBun or KornKnock for the grown and sexy

Absolutely zero chill. Four pairs?? I think you're just gonna get me firing from the hip.

Gavreel and Cairo

When it comes to BL, the Philippines won when it came to tackling how the pandemic affected connection and romance. I really like presentation of developing a crush on a streamer and just going for it with these two. I'm still waiting for my proper gamers BL, but this is a good first outing.

I think what I like so much about what we got from these two is how temporary so much of their lives feels. They want to be together. They want to commit. However, life won't let them. Gav can't stay here and be okay because he's running out of money and honestly isn't that well right now. Cairo is still grieving his dad, and he has a lot of growing up to do.

They're one of the rare pairs that I want to be together in the future who I am glad are forced to take a break when we see them part.

Hira and Kiyoi

I think the best thing about this show and this pairing was the reveal that Kiyoi was also obsessed with Hira from the moment their eyes first locked. I also really like that Kiyoi is a bottom who wants it.

We've been lucky with these two that we got to see them three times, and I like how much stronger Yagi has gotten as an actor each time, and how Hagiwara has grown as a creator and storyteller. These two seem to really understand that they have two characters who struggle to say what's necessary to each other in a way that reaches the other.

I loved in Season 2 when Kiyoi realized that Hira was still worshiping him as a god and freaked the fuck out about it, storming out of the house. That he was in the living room the next morning waiting for Hira to come and talk to him, only to get annoyed again was perfect. We get fairly decent payoff for Hira finally facing his own ego when it comes to Kiyoi in the movie, and these two remain among my favorites.

Also, Yagi Yusei really is that beautiful.

Teh and Oh

I just know if I was part of MoRaoYuLok I would have a side chat where we just bitched about these two.

Teh is such an asshole sometimes, and Oh is really so patient with his nonsense. I always lament that Teh is so unsociable that he struggles to maintain a lot of friendships, and it's why that snake Jai was able to get in there and fuck up his life. Still, Teh isn't off the hook for his own shit. He's always struggled with jealousy when it comes to Oh, and he's always worried about falling behind him.

Oh is just so naturally gifted and has an irresistible natural charm. He knows he's beautiful, and he knows how people see yet, and yet he's only ever looking at Teh. We should all be so lucky.

I think about that translation scene in episode 3 of ITSAY regularly, and how that is probably one of the best moments we've ever had in BL. These two really captured a love that feels bigger than their bodies can contain.

Tan and Bun

I'll talk about Tan and Bun since it's been too long since I watched Together With Me and cannot remember them that clearly anymore.

Tan was so ridiculous this entire show, and I'll never get over Bun being ACAB as fuck the whole time. Bun never forgot that he was trying to solve this case for his bestie who they murdered, but he knew she would want him to get some ass along the way.

Tan said absolutely insane shit to Bun literally every episode. He even shot that man off a cliff. Somehow he still won. Incredible.

Send Me a Ship and I'll Share My Thoughts

#answered #ask game #manner of death #i told sunset about you #gameboys the series #my beautiful man #utsukushii kare

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to-be-a-dreamer · 1 year

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Talked about this in the Discord with Chandler a bit but I cannot get over how all six of the PCs in Neverafter are super involved with the main conflict, they all have high stakes in the outcome, and they all have a genuine reason or adversary that is forcing them to be on this adventure except for Pib.

Like, Rosamund started out looking for her true love, her literal only goal in life up until that point and now she's involved with a huge plot to bring awareness to everyone in the Neverafter, and she's the key to every side, not just her own, turning the tides in their favor. Mother Goose is the only person with the ability to end the Times of Shadows, but he has to work with the rest of the party to learn how to use this ability if he wants to save everyone he cares about. Pinnochio literally doesn't have a choice; he has been cursed, his father is being held captive, he's being manipulated by the Stepmother to do her bidding, and he has absolutely no way out of this. Even his afterlife has been stolen from him and he's being forced to keep going, no matter how much he doesn't want to. Ylfa may seem like she doesn't have very high stakes and, other than Pib, she has the most physical freedom to leave if she wants to. However, emotionally, she is absolutely trapped in this adventure. The only parental figure she has is on the quest, she doesn't really have anyone else that cares about her, these five idiots absolutely need protection, and every sign in her life is pointing her back to these five other people on this journey. She could leave, yes, but she won't, because she doesn't have anywhere else to go. Gerard, like Rosamund, joined up with the group because he felt like they could help him find his true love, Elody, and that once that goal was accomplished everything would be okay again. NOW he's being used as a pawn for the fairies who are trying to convince him that the only way to get his Happily Ever After back is to do what they say and prevent the "awakening" of the people of the Neverafter. He's made an agreement with a fairy now, he's not getting out of this adventure.

NOW PIB PUSS IN BOOTS OVER HERE. He's just a guy. He's just a funky little trickster spirit who doesn't have to be here. He was with Pinnochio to get some money to help him back onto his feet paws, but he could have easily left with the rest of the caravan. There's no wicked stepmother forcing his hand, no evil fairy using him as a pawn, no giant goose haunting his dreams. He could have stayed in the forest with Rabbit to let Fox take the next turn and nothing would happened to him. He could have turned tail (ha) and ran away with Alphonse to save his own skin and just found a new story to screw up. He could have stayed in the teapot carriage with time stopped for the rest of his life and literally no outside forces would have cared enough to stop him. He's just a cat. He can do what he wants. He's just a trickster spirit whose only purpose is to fuck shit up. It's hilarious and I love it.

Personally, I can't wait to watch how Zac and Brennan tell the story of a random cat with no personal stakes in this fight finding a purpose in companionship, learning to care about other people, and being willing to sacrifice his own comfort and happiness to help his friends. I can't wait to watch this little shit who only exists to play tricks and cause chaos learning to trust and love and protect. We've already seen that Cat is more empathetic and caring of the humans in his stories than Fox, and I think we're gonna watch Pib slowly begin to grow attached to the rest of the party. I think he is going to spend this next life, the life he promised he would use to play even greater tricks, bonding with people he should be fooling and using his cunning to protect them instead. I can't wait for Pib to look his archetype, his destiny, dead in the eye and say "no".

I can't wait for Pib to have stakes in the fight because his family has stakes in the fight.

#i can also see them finding a reason for pib to have personal stakes #like something with tomas and his wife maybe #but i love the idea of this little trickster spirit who doesn't really have to be here making the conscious decision to stay #for no greater reason than that the people he cares about are here #and isn't that really the most important reason of all?#am i reading too much into this? probably but i don't care #funky little cat man make brain worms go brrrrrrrrr #pib #puss in boots #pib neverafter #puss in boots neverafter #zac oyama #neverafter #dimension 20 #dimension 20 neverafter #dimension 20: neverafter #neverafter spoilers

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seek--rest · 8 months

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Final Thoughts on The Dumb Teen Show

I'm too old for this media, this media is not written or meant for me.

Alas, we move:

It's the finale and I must finally speak my truth. I have not nor will I ever give a shit about Taylor and Steven. Taylor was a terrible friend to Belly and I'm sorry, I never forgave her for that. Cheating is despicable and I know that's rich coming from a show that's highlighting a love triangle between brothers but that's just how it is. Taylor is boring and annoying, Steven is grating as a person and as a brother and all the chatter of how "this show is bad but at least we have Steve and Taylor" I simply cannot relate to any of you!! They're bad people and not even in an interesting can't wait to root for them kind of way they're just Bad and more offensively, Boring.

JEREMIAH GET BEHIND ME. The way you deserve so much better in this show and in this universe. I've long been Team Jeremiah in the sense that everyone needs some fucking therapy (himself included) and that he needs to be in a better universe, with a better show and better writers. This is a boy that is consistently pulled around, has to fake a smile because that's all that is expected of him and the (1) time he actually shares his frustrations in a way that isn't absolutely perfect, he's mistreated by damn near everyone including the fandom. Everything about him in the last episode is a person that has so much maturity in a way that just doesn't make sense considering the hell he's been through. He's the better person.

Which was no help to fucking Susannah!!!!!!!! I've long since lamented that the show dropped the ball on exploring the real, tangible grief of Laurel in losing her Susannah and the more the season went on, the more frustrated I was because SUSANNAH IS A TERRIBLE MOTHER. She's arguably a shit sister. She is, within the narrative itself without looking for subtext, someone who is really fucked up! And what do we have to show for it! Nothing! The show did absolutely NOTHING with what they set up for her and never once interrogates how fucking demented she is to tell a fucking sixteen year old on her death bed to watch out for Conrad. poor Conrad. You love Conrad. He loves you. This isn't even because I think Jeremiah is the better person/brother (I do) but on any level you swing it, that is seriously fucked up to ask that of a teenager. As a grown ass woman!! What is wrong with you! Why are you asking her to watch out for your grown ass son AND ONLY the one son? When Jeremiah walked into the room after that?? It's like fuck did you forget you're a mother to TWO people here?

Removing Jeremiah entirely, that would still be so supremely fucked up and that is just one thing of the many things that have shown cracks in Susannah's life and experiences that now? We'll never get to explore. Laurel, hold my hand. Go to therapy with me. You will see the truth in time.

Conrad is a fucking terror of a human being. I'm sorry, I cannot understand how or why he has so many fucking defenders especially from anyone with a fully developed prefrontal cortex. "He's mourning his mother" "he doesn't know how to express his feelings" "love it when he's petty! king!" like what is wrong with all of you. This isn't to say "omg your ship is soooo bad because it's unhealthy" because whatever, do what you want. But for so many to argue with their whole chests that Conrad is like an angel sent from heaven that is tortured and misunderstood and to mean that with utter sincerity has me convinced 1) every single one of you is also 16, never been in love before and/or in love with the toxicity of an emo bad boy or 2) loves the toxic drama. Which if it's the second, that's fine! But it's rare (if ever) that it's someone acknowledging that Conrad is a big fucking red flag.

I know the drill. I know what the endgame is. I haven't read the books but I don't have to. I understand Narratives. Conrad is going to "grow" and "develop" and the narrative will "prove" that fuck whatever Belly chooses, fuck the objectively more mature and more insightful and person who actively communicates with Belly even as a teenager that is Jeremiah, the show will contrive some way to bring Belly and Conrad together because they're Meant to Be or some shit.

Fuck fate. Fuck having to be emotionally manipulated and twisted around. Fuck having to being told that you're not mature enough and grow up from the same person throwing constant temper tantrums. Fuck the age difference honestly. Fuck the fact that this person always saw her as a little kid until she flirted with someone else.

I don't condone violence but Laurel's slap? Idk I think Belly needed that reality check. She needs to leave both of these boys alone. She needs to be in therapy, she needs to be single, and needs to let go of this idea that the world revolves around her.

I hate this dumb show so fucking much.

Can't wait for the next season.

#seek streams #the summer i turned pretty #the summer i turned pretty spoilers #tsitp #tsitp spoilers

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xocasper · 2 years

Text

Into It

Pairing: Mikey Way x Reader Summary: Kinktober Day Two: Degradation Warnings: NSFW content Tags: jealous sex, degradation, humiliation kink, spit kink, face-fucking, choking kink, dirty talk, orgasm denial Word Count: 5270 A/N: my hands are blue. i am shaking. this is so unfinished but here. it’s 10:38. i am tired. i am drained. my italics didn’t work. i will fix all this shit tomorrow. enjoy for now while i go play in traffic xo Post Editing A/N: Thank you Chase Atlantic for the title, I literally cannot title this thing because it’s 99% horny. I have no fucking clue if there’s even plot. Is there? I’m scared to read it, honestly. Anyway, this is so much better with italics. Tumblr, please accept my formatting you dumb motherfucker.

Mikey had a jealous streak.

In addition to his many shining traits, ranging from talented and attractive, to considerate and charming, envy was one of his most prominent attributes. Typically, it stayed well hidden beneath his silence and sincerity, only breaking him down when you were involved. You figured it had sprung from his career or childhood, and how he had always lived in Gerard’s shadow. Despite his love for his brother, you all knew he could use more recognition than he was getting—the recognition that you gave him.

Around everyone else, Mikey kept his cool. Quiet and unbothered, he would usually ignore conflict, finding it to be a waste of time. You were different though; in fact, you were his.

He wasn’t wildly overprotective, letting you live independently without feeling the need to pounce on people. You were loyal, behaving as such around other guys, and they typically got the message. On the occasion that they didn’t, Mikey had no issue stepping in, sending them away with subtle PDA. And if that didn’t work, so help them, God, because his restraint would’ve been reduced to atoms by then.

His attitude never bothered you—in fact, you liked it, teasing him here and there and making jokes about his jealousy. While you habitually found the humor in it, there was a bigger reason behind it–when Mikey got jealous, he got mean. It was the type of mean that made the muscles in your abdomen wind tight, letting your head spin, and body grow hot as degradation rolled off his tongue. But as hot as it was, Mikey rarely acted like that, reserving his acrimony for his certain nights—and tonight would be one of them.

“What’s up?” Mikey asked, hearing your internal battle from across the kitchen.

He hadn’t looked up from the paperwork before him, having told you already that Gerard had tasked him with reading through it. You were on the other side of the room, swapping between the refrigerator and cabinets as you searched for something to eat. Plagued with boredom, rather than hunger, you were unsuccessful, but you continued the monotonous task anyway. Truthfully, you were waiting for Mikey to quit working—or at least take a break—after brushing you off the entire day.

Sighing, you turned back to face him. “We don’t have any food.”

He snorted, “Sure we do.”

Glumly, you walked over to his place at the table, met with a quick peck on the cheek as you plopped down next to him. He couldn’t be having any more fun than you, the pages covered in legal gibberish. As if on cue, he let out a soft sigh, continuing to read through the documents even if they made no sense to him.

“Don’t you have people to do this for you?” you asked, resting your head against his shoulder while you scanned each passage.

“That’s what I asked Gerard,” he said. “Apparently we need to know too, but you know how he is.”

You pressed a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth, watching it quirk up in response. “Well, I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.”

He gave a gentle hum and kissed your lips this time, pulling away just as soon to return to work. Disappointed, you gave a small frown, making him grin in response.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, amused, though his eyes stayed glued to the paper.

Chewing your lip and contemplating your answer, you settled on a classic, “Nothing.”

Mikey laughed again, not to antagonize, but at your stubbornness. “Your arms are crossed and you’re pouting—what’s up?”

“I’m bored,” you admitted, slouching in your seat.

Fortunately, he looked up at you, tilting his head and biting back another grin. “Do you want something to do,” he asked, leaning in again. “Or do you just want me?”

It was honest and arrogant, and he swelled with pride as you mumbled back, “You.”

Tilting your chin up, he pulled you forward, his lips meeting yours in a sinful fashion. It made up for how busy he had been this afternoon, tracing your bottom lip before catching it between his teeth. His fingers ran from your chin down your throat, wrapping them delicately around your neck as he kissed you. Mikey had turned the world into an illegible blur, kissing away your common sense while his hand pressed against your throat, warranting a desperate moan. Leaving you starry-eyed, his hand slipped down to your waist, and he pulled back ever so slightly.

With his lips still grazing yours, he teased you under his breath. “You’re so needy.”

He didn’t let you argue, catching your indignant huff with another kiss. It was softer this time, short and smooth until he broke apart, admiring your dazed expression. Much to your dismay, he had quickly returned to reading, though his attention was still centered on you.

“And if you’re still bored, Frank wants me to go to some party tonight.”

It was your turn to tease him, “You mean ‘Frank invited me and I want to go,’ right?”

He rolled his eyes playfully, a smile tugging at his lips. “Maybe.”

“And you want me to go with you?”

He nodded, humming softly. It was a no-brainer–parties were Mikey’s forte. They had always been how he got his kicks, finding strange solace in cheap beer and shitty music. He had built a reputation around them as well, gaining silly nicknames and becoming a notable figure in the scene. People expected him to show up, spotting him tipsy in a corner, making out with strangers while music shook the room. In fact, the words “Mikey” and “party” had become so closely tied that they had formed an alias a few years prior. And though he had grown out of his nicknames, losing his glasses and fuck boy reputation, he could never turn down an invite.

Luckily, you weren’t opposed to them, rarely hanging back when Mikey wanted to drag you to a random party thrown by a hazy acquaintance. You weren’t as lively as him, keeping your drinks to a minimum and chatting with strangers until he was ready to crash on the couch. That’s when you’d pull him away, laughing softly as he slung his arm around your shoulder, mumbling his love and gratitude while you helped him into the car. He could be a bit of a handful, but he would always make it up the next morning, the idea of sweet morning sex prompting your answer.

“Sure.”

The sound of the door shutting was an odd contrast to the muffled mix of music and yelling, cutting clearly through the air. As usual, Mikey walked around to your side, helping you out of the car and receiving a gentle smile in response. He was in a particularly good mood, undoubtedly happy to give his eyes a break after an afternoon of paperwork. You could practically feel him buzzing as he walked through the door, tugging you through a crowd of tipsy strangers in hopes of finding Frank. Unfortunately, you didn’t make it that far, as Mikey was quickly called over by an old friend. Surrounded by strangers, you had little choice but to follow him, glued to his side as they struck up a drawn-out conversation.

You weren’t typically this impatient, but after spending almost the whole day alone, you could hardly tolerate standing around. For fifteen minutes, you scuffed your shoes against the tile and swayed in his arms, tracing the lines on his palm while he continued to ignore you, too focused on his conversation. He wasn’t oblivious to your behavior–in fact, he found it entertaining, paying more attention than you thought. After a while, you turned around in his arms, pressing periodic kisses to his neck as if to remind him that you were still here. Just as he had that afternoon, he looked down at you, giving you another soft smile.

“My needy baby,” he cooed.

Again, you scowled at him, only making him smile wider. You had been patient all day, putting up with every “Later,” and “I’m almost done.” You knew he was messing around by calling you needy, but it was the equivalent of calling him jealous. He would vehemently deny it, and most of the time, he was right. But on occasion, envy would cloud his mind, and it became the only thing he could think of. Similarly, you could only think about him at the moment, so maybe he was right. And if wanted to ignore you, you just had to make him listen. Desperate times call for desperate measures, after all.

“Fine, I’ll go have fun without you,” you told him.

He laughed softly, kissing you on the forehead. “I’m sure you will.”

It wasn’t a challenge, but you took it as one anyway, slinking through the crowds the minute Mikey let you go. The only person you knew was Frank, and you hadn’t been able to properly look for him before. Despite the dim rooms and unnecessary amount of people, you’d be able to find him eventually. And if push came to shove, you could shamefully return to Mikey and spend the rest of your night in misery.

That could never happen with you though. Not if he had spent his whole day watching you whittle away, grinning to himself as you fought paperwork for a kiss or two. If there was any way to get his attention, it was to make him jealous, which wasn’t a hard feat at all. Thankfully, you spotted Frank just in time, watching as his friend was dragged off, leaving him alone.

“Frank!”

He could barely hear you over the stereo, calling your name back and waving you over. “Where’s lover boy?” he grinned, swirling his drink absentmindedly.

“He’s in the kitchen,” you answered, giving a frustrated sigh. “And he’s ignoring me.”

Frank laughed, “Yeah? What’d you do to deserve that?”

“Nothing, honestly.”

Even if you were telling the truth, you could still see his playful doubt. “Okay, what are you gonna do about it?”

“Make him jealous,” you smiled, voice laced with faux-innocence.

Frank knew he shouldn’t get involved, but pissing Mikey off sounded incredibly tempting at the moment. Besides, he’d rather you flirt with him than with strangers—Frank had a reputation for this, anyway. Neither of you would take it too far, making him the best candidate. Cracking a smile and breathing a small sigh, he agreed, letting you inch closer.

The next few minutes followed the same formula—Frank continued to lean against the wall, and his free arm was wrapped around your waist while the two of you laughed at almost everything in sight. You may have been sober, but Frank had a good buzz going, tossing his head back and downing the rest of his drink. His hair fell messily over his eyes, and alcohol wet his upper lip, soon quirking up as he gave you a mischievous grin.

“Someone’s out of the kitchen,” he informed you.

You could’ve looked over, but this seemed much more fun. Frank could clearly see behind you, his eyes flicking between yours and the hallway, watching as your plan fell into place. With blissful ignorance, you placed your hand on Frank’s cheek, your thumb skimming his lips as you wiped away the liquor stain.

Amused, he watched as you cleaned it from your skin, running your thumb along your tongue, tasting the cheap beer. “That tasted like shit,” you laughed, earning a humored smile in return.

“That should be the least of your worries right now.”

This was beyond entertaining for him, watching as Mikey strode across the room, his eyes locked on you as he pushed through a crowd of people. Inconspicuously, Frank’s hand slipped back into the pocket of his jeans, casually settling against the wall. You had to bite back a grin as Mikey’s arms snaked around your waist, wrapping tighter as you leaned into his touch. While they exchanged greetings, you gave Frank a grateful smile and turned around to face Mikey.

“I think it’s time to go.”

It was spoken steadily, his jaw set and grip growing stronger as your arms dangled around his neck. There was something sinister in his eyes, and his expression toed a line between condescension and irritation. In a moment of infinite wisdom, you challenged him.

“We just found Frank though,” you frowned, glancing back at the man in question, who snickered into his solo cup. “And who said I was ready to leave?”

He gave you a grin, one that screamed sympathy. God couldn’t save you now, not with the hell Mikey could raise. It had you eating your words quick enough to choke, regret already twisting in your gut.

“Oh, honey,” he murmured, still smiling maliciously. “I can give you what you want.”

You froze for a moment, breath catching in your throat at his offer. It was only for a moment—just long enough for him to admire his effect on you—and you quickly came to your senses. You huffed, rolling your eyes as you gave in.

“Fine,” you told him, feigning frustration, but he could see right through it.

After saying goodbye to Frank—who giggled through the interaction, of course—Mikey promptly led you out the door, clutching your hand tight as he walked you to the passenger side. You weren’t sure if you should be grateful for his stoicism; while his wicked grin had vanished, his jaw seemed to be permanently locked and he hadn’t spoken since you’d left. Somehow, it was more intimidating, his silence becoming ominous and turning fifteen minutes into eternity.

Under the anxiety that simmered in your stomach was something worse, dirty and humiliating; or maybe it would’ve been, had this not been your intention. Lust soothed your stress, spiking it and slowly spilling into your bloodstream. Soon enough, Mikey had corrupted every thought in your head, and by the time he had parked the car, he was the only thing on your mind.

But Mikey remained silent. He didn’t make a sound as you walked up the lot, only hearing his sneakers scuff against the pavement. It carried into the building, the jingle of his keys echoing through the empty halls as you trailed after him. Even as he shut the door, his lips were sealed, though his air of intimation had softened to mild annoyance.

An apology began to bubble up in your throat as you followed him, finding this kind of ignorance to be worse than the last. While he padded towards the dresser, you stuck by the edge of the bed. He was impossible to read, especially with his back turned, but the sooner the tension dissipated, the better.

“I’m sorry,” you said, tentative and hushed.

Maybe he really was upset, still rummaging around for a shirt before speaking. “For what?”

“Flirting with Frank.”

He really only wanted admission, shutting the drawer fruitlessly and turning back to face you. Instead of looking upset, he was pleased, walking towards you one more.

“It’s fine, baby,” he said, knuckles brushing against your jaw. “You’re just so fucking needy, huh? You had to flirt with Frank for some attention.”

Speechless, you listened with bated breath, submerged in anticipation as he continued. “Do you think you deserve it?” he asked, reveling in the power you gave him.

“Yeah,” you told him, incapable of forming a coherent sentence.

He didn’t push much further, humming doubtfully. “I don’t think so.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he cut you off abruptly, pressing his other hand to your back as his fingers unfurled, warm against your cheek as he kissed you. It was anything but gentle, vastly different from the sweet kisses he gave you on sunny mornings. His passion was the only constant, and his asperity was incomparable to his typical delicacy. Gone were his spontaneous kisses, soft and slow after catching you in the kitchen after midnight, draping his arms loosely around your waist as you swayed with him. The sound of his laughter and the brush of his lips was nothing but a memory now, dusting away as he kissed you with raw fervor.

You gave into his touch just the same, melting against him as he pulled you closer, his hand slowly sliding against your jaw in the process. It was messy and desperate, your head tilting back as he nipped at your bottom lip, swiftly gliding his tongue against it. Once again, his hand slid towards your neck, delicately pressing his fingers against your throat as he forced your head still. He had so much control, getting drunk on adrenaline as you whined against his lips. You could barely fucking think, overwhelmed as he seemed to be everywhere, and yet somehow you craved more.

The sharp tug of your lip between his teeth sent a moan spilling into the room, breaking the prior peace. Mikey had to fight a conceited smile, slipping his tongue past your lips as your mouth filled with the taste of filthy familiarity. He moved shamelessly, letting his hand trail from your back to the curve of your ass, sliding his tongue against yours with the same fluency.

Gradually, he slowed down, giving you nothing more than lingering kisses for the sake of riling you up. Your arms had hooked around his neck, mumbling pleas that all ended with his lips against yours, whining weakly as he pulled away.

“What?” he asked, watching in amusement as you searched for a word other than please. “You still want my cock, baby? You want me to fuck you?”

You had gone dumb, blinking mindlessly as you responded with a soft, “Yeah.”

Proud, he leaned in close, his lips skimming the shell of your ear. “Then earn it. Get on your knees.”

His words were hypnotic, and you didn’t think twice about sinking to the floor. It was so fucking satisfying, Mikey watching as his sentence registered, and how quick you were to respond. After pressing a handful of kisses to his neck, you finally dropped down, gazing up at him curiously.

He raised his brows at you and crossed his arms over his chest. “Honey, it’s not gonna suck itself.”

It was a crass push, and as you pulled at the zipper of his jeans, you couldn’t help but murmur a rebuttal.

“Now who’s needy?”

Mistakes seemed to be a constant tonight, because even if it was spoken under your breath, Mikey still managed to hear. It was almost funny, huffing a laugh of mild disbelief while you ignored your own remorse.

“Baby, I wasn’t whoring myself out to your friends, was I?” he asked, his condescension returning.

The callout was humbling enough, making quick work of his jeans as they pooled below him. Your hands trailed up his legs, smoothing over his thighs and nipping at his skin, pressing your palm to his erection in the process. It wasn’t much, merely wet kisses and mild friction, but it still had his hips bucking softly against your hand. Gradually, your lips trailed higher, skimming the fabric of his boxers until you were pressed against his cock, replacing the friction with a final kiss. Your fingers swept across his waistband, gently dipping beneath the elastic as you yanked them down, and Mikey gave a short sigh in response.

The contrast between your behaviors clashed perfectly—while you treated him with delicacy, he strived to ruin you, and it was a mind-numbing juxtaposition. Power didn’t break even in the bedroom, and you encouraged your own submission as much as he did, aiming to tease until he had to take matters into his own hands.

Mikey watched you carefully, breath hitching as your lips brushed against the head, expecting a familiar warmth that never came. Instead, you sucked faint kisses down his cock, pressing your tongue to his skin in mild mockery. The way you wet his dick was nothing more than a tease, trailing closer to the tip in languid strokes, only to pull away.

His frustration was evident, and you waited eagerly for him to snap, quickly sweeping your tongue across the head to get a reaction out of him. It was visceral, a soft moan parting his lips, but his pleasure vanished rapidly as you pulled away again.

“God, you can’t follow simple fucking instructions, can you?” he huffed, grasping your jaw and pulling you closer.

Your lips brushed against him, wetting them as he tilted your head back. “Open.”

He didn’t fall for doe eyes and fluttering lashes, well aware of your game. His fingers pressed into your skin and your jaw fell, sticking your tongue out for him. It was an erotic sight, Mikey’s breath stalling for a moment as he eased his cock into your mouth. Your lips wrapped around him like muscle memory, savoring the weight on your tongue as his hand gravitated to the back of your head.

“See? That wasn’t so hard.”

He knew what you wanted and how you acted out to get it. You were a glutton for punishment, and he decided you had to earn that too. After spending a whole day practically begging for his dick, you finally had it, and yet you were still so fucking needy, desperate to be desecrated and used like a cheap whore. For now, you had little choice but to go at his pace, turning obedient and wrapping your hands around his cock as you sucked him off.

It was languid, and he was wickedly smug as you steadily bobbed your head, pulling off sporadically to press kisses to the tip. The October chill was prominent in your apartment, but your mouth was warm, making him press closer. He knew you could do better than that, giving a single cautionary thrust before speaking up.

“God, you’re fucking pathetic,” he chided, scowling down at you. “Can’t even suck dick properly. Useless fucking whore.”

He had to wear you down, pulling you back by the nape of your neck and slapping your hands away. “What are you doing?” you asked anxiously, gazing at him as he jerked himself off.

The whine in your voice was sheer motivation, a sick smile forming as you kneeled hopelessly in front of him. “Since you’re so bad at it,” he shrugged, moaning softly.

Your response was almost instantaneous, reverting to the sweet sub he had been waiting for, gaping as you struggled to find the words. “Mikey please, I’ll be good,” you pleaded, brows furrowing together as if it were catastrophic. “I’ll behave, I promise.”

“You’re acting like a brat,” he said simply. “No.”

Again, came an objective cry, and another onslaught of pleas. “Please, I need it. I need you, please let me suck your cock. I’ll be good, I’m sorry.”

Your sentence ran together, but he didn’t care, jaw locking as he gave a sigh of artificial impatience. “Prove it then, bitch.”

The moment the words left his mouth, you were eagerly shifting closer, Mikey still pumping his hand as your lips pressed against his cock. Your lips were already slick and swollen, and he was no help as he brushed against you, smearing them with spit and precum. It was filthy and degrading, but lust overpowered your remaining dignity. He was relishing in your avidity, moaning as you lapped at the head of his cock and replaced his hands with your own.

Your desire to tease had washed away, replaced by desperation as you wrapped your lips around him. Steady breathing had become a distant memory for Mikey, gripping the back of your neck to prevent himself from thrusting. The gentle squeeze sent an instinctive moan tumbling past your lips, vibrating against his cock as you pushed him deeper.

“You like that?” he asked rhetorically, giving you a patronizing grin. “You want me to choke you? Fuck, you’re sluttier than I thought.”

All you could do was hum in agreement, shame mixing with the arousal that burned in your veins. You sped up as he grew louder, continuing to jerk him after pulling away. He moved to scold you, but you were quicker, flattening your tongue against him and swirling it tantalizingly, gently sucking the tip while he squeezed your throat again in warning.

The pressure eased up as you pulled away, and he could hardly question your antics before the criticism caught in his throat. Rendered speechless as you stared up at him, he watched as saliva spilled off your tongue, dribbling sloppily down his cock before he was back in your mouth. It was passionate and messy, your head bobbing quick and desperately as you drooled over his dick, cheeks hollowing around him until he had to pull you away.

“Put your hands behind your back,” he commanded, chest heaving as you obeyed him. “Open your mouth.”

Hard work really did pay off, because Mikey wasted no time sliding back into your mouth. His hand pressed against your head, holding you still as he started thrusting, fulfilling your wanton desires. He was apathetic, only growing rougher as you choked on his cock, whining as he pushed your head closer.

“Look at you,” he moaned, bucking his hips mercilessly. “Taking my cock like a good fucking slut.”

The degradation went straight to your cunt, aching and dripping with arousal as he used you, and you had never felt more empty. Even as your eyes began to water, it wasn’t enough, moaning around him as he gave a few more harsh thrusts.

“I bet you’re fucking soaked right now,” he said, gradually slowing his pace. “You’re such a whore, baby. You need my cock everywhere, don’t you?”

He pulled out, bringing his hand to your cheek and caressing your skin as you came to your senses. Rather than speaking, you stared at him through half-lidded eyes, trying desperately to form a response. His thumb ghosted your lips, tugging your bottom lip gingerly as you whispered a mindless, “Yeah.”

It was laughable, and he shot you a twisted grin. “You’re so fucking dumb for me, aren’t you? Stupid sluts don’t deserve to be fucked.”

That got a rise out of you, your brain kicking into gear as you let out a pathetic cry. “No, fuck, please.”

It bordered on intelligible, and he played dumb in return. “Please what?”

“Please fuck me,” you babbled, asinine and fragile as you stared up at him. “Please, Mikey, I need it.”

He breathed softly, motioning for you to stand up. “You’re my pretty slut, aren’t you?”

You could only manage an affirming hum, but that didn’t matter once Mikey’s lips were against yours, meeting just long enough to taste himself on your lips. He popped the button on your jeans and kicked his own across the floor, sliding his hands beneath your shirt as he kissed you languidly. As clothing hit the floor, your impatience spiked, splaying your hands across his shoulders as he pushed you back against the mattress.

He hovered above you, eyes still shining with sin while his hand skated across your skin. The brush of his fingers against your cunt sent another wave of humiliation crashing down on you, while Mikey swelled with pride. You had exceeded his expectations, predictably wet with an insatiable ache as he spread you open.

“I was bluffing, baby,” he said, pushing his fingers inside. “Wasn’t expecting you to prove me right.”

You breathed a soft moan, pleasure and satisfaction easing the burn of embarrassment. His fingers curled so nicely, steadily working you open, but it still wasn’t enough. Mikey was many things, but oblivious wasn’t one of them, prompting your request.

“What do you want?” he asked, speeding up as your lips parted. “I wanna hear you say it.”

His behavior was almost cruel, waiting for answers only to fluctuate his pace when you tried to speak. It was demeaning, but you couldn’t bother to be frustrated–not when he was looking at you like that, getting high off your desperation.

Finally, you found the strength to talk, though your answer came out weak and jumbled. “Mikey please,” you cried, eyes screwed shut in concentration. “Please fuck me.”

Swiftly, his fingers slipped out, Mikey sucking them clean before pressing his palm to your cheek. He gave you a short kiss, sliding his tongue against yours until you tasted your arousal.

“Can you taste how bad you want me?” he asked, caressing your skin. “Stick your tongue out.”

You complied, gazing up at him in anticipation and watching as his lips pursed, slick and shiny as he spat into your mouth. As drool coated his bottom lip, he muttered a stern command.

“Swallow.”

And fuck, did you listen.

He was enamored, staring in shock and admiration as your lips closed, swallowing eagerly and moaning in the process. “Please,” you tried again, and this time, he listened.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he mumbled in disbelief, kissing you quick and messy before pushing in, stifling a laugh as you moaned instantaneously. “Fuck, are you happy now? Needy whore finally got what they wanted.”

Responding was out of reach, the rough snap of his hips rendering you speechless as you fought for competence. He left you intelligible, babbling curses and pleas that only fueled his ego, watching with pride as you crumbled beneath him.

“So fucking stupid for my cock,” he murmured, groaning as he pounded deeper. “Is this what you wanted? To be fucked like a dirty slut?”

All you could do was whine, too caught up in his brutal thrusts to answer. Literacy was a foreign concept at this point, and you had already retired to whimpers and moans. This wasn’t enough to satisfy Mikey though, and he made it clear with a brief pause.

Ignoring your offended cry, he questioned you again. “C’mon baby, you can speak. Tell me how good it feels. Tell me how much you love my cock.”

Panting, you rambled mindlessly at him. “Shit, it’s perfect, Mikey, please. Your cock feels s’fucking good, please let me come.”

“That’s fucking right.”

Mikey regained his former pace with admirable ease, kissing you sloppily as you whined into his mouth. The tension in your muscles grew tighter as he continued, every roll of his hips pushing you towards release, obvious as you dug your nails into his back. He moaned at the sweet sting, rubbing your clit with a contrasting delicacy.

“You’re already gonna come?” he taunted, watching as you nodded in shame. “Good. You can wait.”

You could fucking taste it at this point, weak and vulnerable as he rutted against you, and yet you stayed compliant, save for a pathetic cry. The power high brought him closer, nearly coming as you whined pitifully, begging him to come. His resolve was strong though, thrusting until his rhythm grew erratic and his thighs burned from the exertion, choking out a heavenly, “Fuck, come on my cock. Show me how good it feels.”

You could barely register the words, only the relief that washed over you as you came. And then came the bliss, bathing in euphoric sin as he pulled out, twitching and marking you up. The sensitivity continued to linger, even after the stars and vignette had left your sight, but even that was hard to decipher. Your chest heaved as you reveled in the aftershocks, finally fading back into reality when Mikey rolled over next to you.

“Are you okay?” he started, interlocking your fingers and watching you closely.

You nodded, almost laughing at the irony of his tone. “Yeah, are you?”

He grinned, pecking you on the lips. “Fucking wonderful.”

“okay nvm fuckers its late fic is over go home” - doc-martens-enthusiast

taglist: @clichedlovers @halloweenbitch2764 @lubbockshusband @cigarettesandalcohol @couldbegayer1234 @doc-martens-enthusiast @yachiiko @becausethedrugsneverwork @michelethesong @dangerouslittlefairy

#mikey way x reader #mikey way smut #mcr x reader #mcr smut #im gonna go dive off a cliff. peace.

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