#also is it me of is his head proportion to neck body a bit strange

[leggerefiore]

Can I ask for nsfw Lysandre headcanons. Replaying X&Y got me down bad

he does have a certain appeal...

cw: 18+ content, afab reader,

Minors DNI

🔥Lysandre General NSFW HCs🍷

☕️ The Flare Boss is more than familiar with sex. He has had more than a few flings and one-night stands. The memories mostly scorn him now. Truthfully, his experiences varied a lot and there is some regret for his actions. The skills taught to him are something that he is grateful for at least. His hands seem to easily know just what to do to extract pleasure from you. His days of sleeping around are long behind him. You are the sole focus of his attention, after all.

☕️ Sex itself is something he allows himself the indulgence of, but truly enjoys the way it brings him and his partner closer together. The feelings of pleasure tangle in a beautiful mix with the physical closeness of your bodies. He feels oddly soothed by holding you close. His hand shifts from gripping your hip to lay atop your hand. Lips press against your own as he ruts deep inside you. The lights are dim in the room, but the feeling of your nails digging into his back. The peace in his mind from these moments is only temporary, unfortunately. Your beauty satisfies his urges for just long enough, though.

☕️ Lysandre would never admit his usual places for sex aloud, but many were aware of it from context clues alone. His office is a guarantee. Many times he has had you pressed against his desk for his eyes and hands to explore. Rarely, he may even indulge a risqué part of himself and have you under it as he conducts meetings. Being alone in the room with him almost always ends with you moaning and gripping the wooden surface tightly. Other places are much more risky. You flinch at his demands to try something in his café once. There is no one in the café but two busy employees as he pulls you into his lap. They do not seem to notice as he slips a hand into your pants. His breath fans on your neck as the scent of coffee in the air becomes almost unbearable.

☕️ He is wonderful at giving head. His beard will tickle your thighs as his strong hands hold them apart. His tongue slips between your folds with ease as he begins to circle your clit. A light suckling brings your hands into his fiery hair. Your grip only tightens as he dares move towards your entrance teasingly. When his tongue darts inside, you curl your toes. But, he does also enjoy receiving it. The sight of you knelt between his legs is another thing he finds beautiful. His dick's size is quite proportional to his height, so watching as you lick up the length is entrancing. He can only swallow as your head takes in the tip. The feeling of your tongue swirling around it has him gripping the surface under him tightly. The pleasure is simply too great.

☕️ Lysandre is a top. There is no interest from him in pretending to let you dominate, but he is not opposed to you riding him. Even unconsciously, he always holds some level of control that he just cannot seem to turn off. When you do ride him, his hands hold your hips tightly while you bounce up and down on his dick. The pace is almost entirely dictated by him. Most of the time, however, you find yourself underneath the Flare Boss. His hips meet yours over and over again as the room feels much too steamy. You are bent over the desk, paperwork and various office supplies knocked away to make room for you. His hand pressed flat against the wooden surface next to your head. No one dared even knock on his door after they had seen you enter earlier.

☕️ His kinks include of a bit of power play. He cannot deny the thrill of pretending to be your boss and giving your orders. Something about having you dressed up in the bright orange suit of his grunts drives him strangely wild. A bit of temperature play can occur, but he does not find that something he wishes to indulge in but every so often. Semi-public sex is another kink of his. He only does it around those he knows already consented, but the thrill does affect him alongside the display of claiming you as his own. After all, he must make it abundantly clear that you are solely his. He also definitely has a size kink, but that is much too easy to indulge thanks to his massive size.

☕️ His libido is average. It is unfortunately decreasing alongside his age, but that should be fixed with his plans. Typically, he will indulge his partner no matter their level of libido. If they are low, he can hold back, and if they are high, he can find ways to meet their needs. Sex is easy to initiate. A simple question can usually do, but a surprise seduction attempt will not be rejected. He may even do the same in return for you. A candle lit room with your boyfriend inside wearing nothing could be a nice surprise to meet your many times wearing lingerie.

☕️ His dirty talk is mostly relegated to compliments and praises. Hot breath will fan against your ear as he mumbles out, “You feel so wonderful, my dear… Another show of your beauty.” You feel him begin to rut deeper into you afterwards as he loses himself in your body. Or kisses are laid upon your shoulders before he speaks again, “You are utterly gorgeous here… The way your face twists in pleasure… magnificent…” You barely have time to comment before his hips begin to pick up their pace. Your moans are music to his ears.

☕️ A suggestion he has that may or may not ever get spoken aloud to you is a request for a threesome. The Flare Boss strangely wants to share a night of passion between you, him, and the regional professor for Kalos. Their old friendship (or perhaps if was something more) seems to come out if you agree. You may find yourself wedged between Lysandre and Sycamore as they both thrust up into you. They are almost entirely different in their conduct, which brings out a strange thrill to it all. The image of you and Sycamore together alone quickly becomes a favourite to him for the following weeks.

☕️ His aftercare is wonderful. A bath is offered and drawn up if agreed to. He bathes with you afterwards while still laying on endless praise. You can request just about anything, and he will probably do it. Food? Ordered and on its way or unexpectedly made by him. Cuddling? That sounds just perfect to him. He will hold you to his larger body and begin to discuss assorted things with you. After you both recover, he may even indulge you in a nap if that is what you want. Either way, he does work to meet your needs since you are for him.

[mperik]

“Enjoying your busy adult life, eh?”  Carter's eyes widened and he stopped what he was doing. He would know that voice anywhere. “Hey sleepless beauty, how’s it going?” Of course he'd recognize it. It was one of the things Carter knew he'd never be able to forget, etched so deep into his memory that it was effortless to know who it was that just walked into the shop without having to look. Something burned in him and a strange beating in his chest made it hard to remember how to breathe, it was a peculiar little thing that he soon realized was his heart screaming madly at him to look at the door. And there he was, standing with the smile that always got a reaction out of Carter and a jacket that looked all too familiar wrapped around him. "Erik." Their eyes met and a smile of his own melted the surprise from his face, the usual fondness and adoration that always shone whenever his best friend was around bursting through without any holding back. A year, four months, three weeks, two and a half days perhaps weren't much for most, but for Carter, it had felt like an entire lifetime. It all happened too fast. Him setting down the books on the counter as he beelined straight for his friend and him reaching to pull Erik into a hug. It'd been too long. "You're here!" While forgetting Erik's voice was impossible, Carter did fear forgetting what hugging him felt like. "When did you get here?" his arms wrapped around his best friend's neck, pulling him in so close that he was sure the other could hear his heartbeat going crazy. "I missed you." Words felt too little and too much at the same time, a hug seemed like not enough, but they'd have to do for the moment. At least until Carter knew for sure he hadn't fallen asleep on the counter and it was all a dream of what he wished could be. I missed you so much.

That smile. If there were something that could snatch his breath away and bring him back to life at the same time, it would definitely be Carter’s smile.  

The way his best friend called his name pinned Erik’s feet to the ground, rendering him forgetting how to blink. Towering, finely proportioned physique of a semi-pro swimmer, pale glowy skin, fluffy black hair that always urged Erik to lace his fingers into, hazel eyes with golden specks that never failed to leave him in awe. Nothing about Carter seemed to change, except for a year and some of maturity added to the contour of those cheekbones. Fatally gorgeous, as Carter had always been. 

Erik usually refrained from expressing too much of his honest emotions in public, finding it awkward and discomforting. But he soon realized that he was not being out in a public place. He was in Carter’s embrace, secured in the tender warmth he did not know he missed. Or he did know, but did not allow himself to indulge in seeking memory of it. Life without Carter was rough, to say the least; Erik could not afford nostalgia and an over-broken heart.

Arms circling Carter to pull him in even closer, Erik buried his face into his friend’s shoulder, greedily taking in the scents lingering on his skin and sweater. There was a trail of fresh peony, laced under a subtle suede that reminded him of supple skin after a refreshing shower. There was also a faint note of lavender, probably coming from the body lotion. Erik closed his eyes and released a soft content sigh. I’m here, finally.   

“I’ve never not missed you.” 

He replied with a witty voice tone, but it came out somehow close to a confession, both to Carter and to himself. He wanted to stay longer in Carter’s hug, forever even, if the bell behind his back did not ring another client’s arrival, reminding him of where they were. Reluctantly, he pulled away from their embrace, but shamelessly refused to take more than one step back from Carter. With the small gap between them, Erik needed to lift his head a teensy bit higher for their eyes to meet. 

“I came here two days ago, if we include twelve hours of me being out cold on the floor right after unpacking.” It might be more than half a day, but they had so many more important things to talk about. 

“Man, I’m so sad that we’re not in the same house this time,” Erik admitted with a pout, a vivid demonstration of his sulkiness and disappointment that lingered since he looked at his apartment building’s list of residents.

A defeated smile crept upon his face as he added. “They told me I’m a son of Apep, Egyptian. Who is your divine parent?”  

❝ Hunting shadows ; ᶠᵗ ᴱʳⁱᵏ ❞

for the cute bestie @mperik

‘There it goes…’

Carter sighed, sorting through the new books in his arms and arranging them on the shelves. The usual darkness under his eyes seemed to have deepened in just a couple of days as sleep had been harder to come by – school, work, and unpleasant memories plagued his mind during most nights, with the occasional text message keeping him company through the brunt of it all. 

“Man…” He grumbled after he yawned for the fifth time in a row, just after putting the last book away. Thankfully, it was a slow day with not many people coming in and not many of his colleagues around. He loved them, he truly did! They were all lovely and his boss too, but it was during hard days that he appreciated the silence of the shop. Well, as silent as it could be with him around.

He’d been texting his best friend who was somewhere around the world for a while now after what felt like the longest pause between them. That exchange was, ironically, the only light he saw at the time. “Sorry but didn’t feel like typing.” He beings, his thumb securely pressing on the ‘record voice message’ button. “Anyway, it’s been… alright. We’ve never really slept much so, I’m not too bothered by it. How have you been, though? You took a while, I was almost worried.” Carter knew Erik was probably just fine, but he couldn’t help but feel a pang in his chest whenever they went a couple of days or even weeks without talking. It was a heaviness that he wrongly called worry that had a strange fluttering following right after. It must just be that they hadn’t talked in a while, right?

His eyes looked at the screen to make sure the recording had successfully been sent before pocketing his phone and turning to fix the rest of the shelf, humming to himself a song they used to listen to together when the tinkling of the door interrupted the song. “Welcome to The Lion’s Den! I’ll be with you in a minute.” He called with his back to the door, so blissfully unaware of what would come next.

[userwasredacted]

A bunch of hairstyles Plasmius can and cannot pull off

I.. do not get this hair at all TwT Vladdie I love you but what the hell is that? Why? Why the not horns? If you can buff yourself up as plasmius I know you have control over your ghost form so whatttt is thattt????? still its the cannon and we must have respect for this. 5/10 baseline

Okay okay. Not my taste but I can see you rocking this look. You did use it in your college years. Sure its old fashion but its fine, youre old anyway XD 7/10 wear what you like! Even if people make fun of you for this. Also I can see you still doing an evil speech with this hair.

Ah yes. the classic evergreen low pony tail. you look good in this. its nice. Simple and yet effective. Plus it wont get everywhere when you're in a battle. Elegant. But on the other hand, it's just the same hairstyle so no points for creativity or effort. 4/10

High ponytail. looking good. a bit different from the low ponytail but still a pretty classic hairstyle. still feels lazy but at least theres some variety. 6/10

Something more modern yes yes. Looks pretty decent. But totally takes away any threatening vibes tho. doesn't really complete the whole saturday morning cartoon villian. 4/10

Fantasy elf. an easy hairstyle that only needs 2 rubber bands. Looks nice, but more pretty than threatening. Something to wear when you wanna put on the charm and flattery. Also I do see this on a vampire but the sexy kind so i'll take it. 9/10

hmmm edgelording it a bit. How will you fly with that hair flapping all over your face? I like the slick back and the undercut though. 3/10

hmmm... yeah nah. 3/10

HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA 2/10

10/10 and I hate myself.

[sleepytoycollection]

The Jakks Bruno doll arrived at my local Walmart, and being a fan of Encanto, and because Bruno has a design I almost never see made into a doll, I knew had to get at least one.

The dolls are $13 USD.

This won't be a super in-depth review, but if any of y'all have any questions about him I don't mention here, I'll be happy to answer.

Overall I have found Jakks Encanto dolls to be very very nice for the price point, and have really liked their sculpts.

As far as his outfit goes, it's about what I expect for the price point, especially given he's a boy doll + he has a lot more fabric involved in his outfit than the girls do.

As such, to cut corners his ruana is unhemmed, and the shirt/pants is a jumpsuit is made of a very cheap, very stiff, plastic-y feeling polyester.

On the plus side, I do think you could easily customize the ruana to look very nice if you wanted to. hem it, trim off the fake fringe and sew on real fringe, and it would save you the effort of replicating that pattern. The hood is finished nicely already.

The jumpsuit I don't really like at all. The top is already wearing out from me taking it off and putting it back on again. I don't think it would hold up to being played with very much.

His head sculpt is very interesting, even if it's not completely accurate, I do like it for it's uniqueness, but it also looks a bit big? Even compared to the Jakks Mirabel head, it seems wrong. It especially looks strange when comparing him to my custom Bruno.

His body proportions also look really weird.

Like, it can be hard to get a feel for these sorts of details in the movie, but I don't think Bruno had overly long gorilla arms? Why is his neck so short? Compare this:

To his animation model:

That's just not accurate at all. Such weird decisions.

All in all, he's a little disappointing compared to how good their other Encanto dolls are.

That said, my custom Bruno needed a better pair of shoes so at least I got that covered lol.

If one was not a customizer, he's a passable option for now, but hopefully we'll see a better option in the near future. Maybe the Disney Store will release a version soon.

I do think you could probably customize him to look more accurate, but since I already made a nice Bruno, I'm going to hold that thought for now. I'd rather work on other things than try to make him look better you know?

Though he might be a good base for another idea in the future. We'll see.

[hotcoffeetransformation]

Jason swore loudly and had to resist the urge to throw his controller down, pissed that he kept dying cause of the game's stupid glitches (Also known as own mistakes). Still, he regained his composure, and smiled before saying

"Alright chat, we're gonna finish up this one and then we're gonna move on to another game. There should be a poll on top for what we do next"

Jason was a moderately successfully game streamer, averaging about 200 to 300 viewers a night, entirely based on his wit and skill. He knew for sure that they weren't coming for his looks, given his weedy, thin frame, overly pimpled face and large, nerdy glasses. Still, it was enough for him, and he was happy with the progress that he'd made.

As Jason got himself set up for the next game, he heard a shocking sound from above him. The victory theme from one of his favorite JRPGs was blaring through the speakers, and he came up, staring at the screen in shock. He knew what that sound meant. That meant someone had tipped him one thousand dollars, completely out of nowhere.

He looked in shock at the notification on the stream, seeing that it was from someone named JockBro69, with the simple message "Can't wait to get to know you better, cutie~"

Jason was completely stunned. Not only had someone actually redeemed the donation goal that he set as a joke (That being that whoever was stupid enough to tip 1000 dollars got to have a 15 minute private chat with him), it was also someone that he'd never seen in his chat before.

Thoroughly weirded out, but knowing that he had to honor his commitment, he sent the guy a quick private message.

"Dude, I don't know how to thank you enough! Guess I'll see ya pretty soon!"

With that, he sent the man his private zoom link, and said goodbye to the chat, who were still going wild over this turn of events, before pausing,the stream and hopping over to discord for the call.

Not two seconds after his stream stopped, he got a requested video call on discord from the guy, and he opened it up, giving a second for the video to load, but when it did, he was completely dumbfounded again. He was expecting the mysterious donator to be some fat, sweaty silicon valley nerd with too much and money on his hands, but instead what met him was possibly the hottest man he's ever seen, standing up and looking down at his webcam with a friendly expression.

"Fuck, bro! Its so good to finally fucking meet you, I've been such a big fan for a long time, and this is a really big deal for me~

The man had a deep, rumbling, pleasant voice, that shot straight down Jacob's spine and left him feeling strangely... inadequate. Like the fact that his voice wasn't as smooth or melodic as this guy's was his fault, and he should be ashamed of that fact. Still, this guy was pretty pleasant to look at, Jason had to admit. He wasn't gay, definitely not, but he could acknowledge when another guy simply looked good.

Jason scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, not entirely sure of what he should do or say. Still, this guy spent 1000 dollars on this meeting, so he had to try anyway.

"So, umm.... I see your username is jockbro69... What's your actual name thought? I don't think I've ever seen you in chat before..."

The other man actually laughed at this, before looking confused and saying

"What are you talking about bro? Its me, Ethan! I'm in your chat all the time! Man, I guess what they say about playing games so much is true, huh?"

At this statement, Jason actually went pale with shock. THIS was Ethan? This was the guy who's username used to be runningLink? Who was an active fan of the zelda series, constantly begged Jason to play them, and bemoaned the fact that no would date him? It just didn't seem right...

Still, Jason, ever the semi professional, continued on, pretending that he wasn't shocked at the news.

"Well, thanks for supporting me so much! Seriously, this means a lot to me... Ummm... so I guess tell me some of your favorite things about the channel then!"

The man laughed again, the sound coming out in a slow, dumb chuckle, before saying

"What's my favorite thing? Do I even have to say, bro? Its the amazing piece of eye candy I'm looking at right now. You're super hot, bro~"

At this, Jason was shocked, but he chuckled awkwardly while blushing, and said

"Really? I don't think I've ever heard a single person say that before. I guess I consider myself slightly below average..."

The guy looked confused at that, before pressing on

"Really, bro? You look super hot to me, you got those bright, blinding blue eyes that you can just get lost in~"

At this point, Jason knew the man was just messing with him. His eyes have always, and will always be a dark, muddy brown, hidden behind his massive frames. Jason was about to respond, when Ethan continued

"Yeah, and you got that super stylish haircut too, really makes you look super masculine~"

Now Jason was REALLY confused. The guy was right, he did always get complements on his eyes, the bright, shocking blue visible and striking even through his huge glasses. But his hair was always a long, unkempt greasy mess.

"Ethan, are you sure you're okay, you're not just seeing things? Cause I don't know what you're talking about"

Ethan ignored the comment, just continuing to press on

"And you've got that hot, manly face, with your strong jaw and amazing profile"

Jason was confused again. Sure, his stylish haircut did help him look much better, but his face had always been pretty androgynous, with hints of baby fat still present in his cheeks. Again, before he could interrupt, Ethan continued,

"And you've got that smooth smooth skin, that hot stubble, that sexy smirk of yours. You're the full package bro~"

Jason laughed at this. Ethan was clearly being way too complementary. Sure his face had a great shape to it, with strong cheekbones and a square jaw, but his skin was still acne marked as hell, his smile was crooked and awkward, and he'd never been able to grow any facial hair, no matter how much he tried.

"I really have no idea what you're talking about Ethan. Sure I've got some good features, but the overall package isn't much to write home about~"

Ethan smirked again, his eyes lighting up with humor, as if he knew something I didn't.

"Nah, bro, you're underselling yourself. Plus, you've got that body~"

"What about my body? I think its pretty average, though I guess I'm a bit on the skinny side..."

Jason looked down at himself, trying to contemplate what Ethan meant. Sure, he'd been blessed with an attractive, manly face, but it didn't change the fact that his body was still below average at best.

"Again, bro! Putting yourself down. You really think those massive logs you have for arms are below average?"

Jason looked down at his skinny arms, and said

"More like logs than twigs man, seriously."

"And what about your legs? You've spent so long working on em, you've got thighs and glutes to kill for~"

Jason laughed again

"I dunno man! Most people say the exact opposite. They say I spend too much time on arms and not enough on my torso and legs. What can I say though? I love having big, beefy arms."

"Of course you do, bro? Who wouldn't? Especially when right in between em, you got your big, pillowy chest, your sexy abs, and your super toned back~"

Jason was seriously starting to wonder if Ethan was on something. Anyone could clearly see from first glance that Jason's body was badly proportioned, his arms and legs being massive from months to years of work, while he neglected his back, pecs and ab muscles. Still, he thought he looked pretty alright honestly.

"And I especially love how you're not only super sexy, you know it and flaunt it~ I don't think I've ever seen you once wear a shirt. The most you'll wear is a necklace, and even then, not like that covers anything, bro~ Only makes you look sexier"

Now here Jason had to disagree. He knew that he had cultivated and developed an amazing body over his years of going to the gym, but that was all for his own personal satisfaction. He never flaunted it unnecessarily, especially not during a stream.

"And I love the fact that you're such a fucking bro, bro. Every other word out of your mouth is bro and dude, you can't go even five minutes without flexing and thinking of fucking, or going to the gym, or hanging out with your other hot bros. We all know that your brain is basically only good for working out and looking hot. No smart's up there. And you've got your deep, sexy voice, too. Makes it even hotter that you're a gay bro, just like me"

Jason HAD to laugh at that. What the guy was saying was just so ridiculous.

"What the hell are you talking about? Look, I know that I like to show off my sexy body a lot, but that doesn't mean I'm some kind of dumb jock. And I'm definitely straight, dude. Don't know why you'd think I'm gay"

Ethan pressed on, completely unabashed by Jason's last comments.

"But you know the best fucking part, bro? Its that power of yours. The fact that any weak ass nerd who looks at you and your huge fucking muscles grows into a hot, dumb bro like us within seconds~"

Jason was busy flexing, staring at his own bicep in awe, as if he was shocked by him impressive he was. He looked up at Ethan blearily, saying

"Sorry, bro, what'd you say? I guess I got a bit fucking distracted. Huhuhu. But who could blame me~"

"Nah, it was nothing bro. You don't need to worry about it. Now should head back to the stream?"

Jason gasped in excitement, having forgotten entirely about the fact that there was a whole stream audience full of lame ass nerds, just ready for him to make as sexy as he and Ethan were.

"You got it bro~ This is gonna be so fucking hot~"

Jason left the call, going back to the stream and restarting, glad to see that a full 300 people were still watching, even through the extended break. The second he turned his camera on, he could see that people were confused for some reason, saying a stranger broke into his house. How stupid could these people be? How did they not recognize him? Still, not like it would matter for long...

"Hey bros! How're we all fucking doing? Welcomes to today's stream..."

He trailed off, looking blankly at the camera, before saying

"You know what? Fuck video games! Who needs them when you can do this~"

And as his pecs bounced and bounced hypnotically, the chat slowly transitioned from messages like "What the fuck is happening?" or "Who is this dumb jock?" to "Fuck, bro! Your pecs look so fucking hot today!" and "Huhuhu, I love making my pecs bounce like Jace's~"

And so the stream continued, Jace showing everyone all the amazing things his body could do, while anyone that was watching, whether they wanted to or not, began to copy him exactly. And as the stream went on, the viewer count rose, and rose, and rose...

[serenehwa]

Answer

Genre: Smut Pairing: insecure!Hongjoong x Reader Word Count: 2.1k Summary: You reassure Hongjoong that he is, in fact, quite a beautiful man... With your mouth. 

I did not proofread this and I am barely awake. Enjoy anyway! It was as normal of a day as any, the sun was shining and it was warm outside; not too hot, not too cold. The two of you were resting in Hongjoong's apartment, taking a day off from doing something socially exhausting, choosing to stay inside instead. Both of you were on the couch, you were sitting up and browsing social media as Hongjoong's head rested on your thighs, immersed in whatever game he was playing on his phone. You had been dating for about a month now, nothing too crazy or serious, but you obviously cared for each other and enjoyed spending time together. There was something you considered to be slightly strange, however, Hongjoong had gotten you off multiple times using his tongue, fingers, and even his thigh but you hadn't ever gotten him off or even seen him naked. You chalked it up to him being nervous, as he was a virgin and you were not but you hadn't really breached the conversation thus far. You were willing to be as patient as he needed you to be, but you'd be lying to yourself if you said you weren't even slightly curious about his reasoning.

"Hey, babe?" You questioned, putting your phone down and looking at him.

"Yeah?" Hongjoong looked up at you with his big eyes, smiling his big smile.

"I have a question, and I don't want you to like, take it in a bad way or pressuring or anything, okay?"

Hongjoong immediately sat up, a worried look suddenly making itself very apparent on his face. Before he could even start, you opened your mouth to speak again.

"It's nothing serious, really." You giggled, "Please don't look so worried! It's nothing bad!"

Hongjoong smiled again, sighing in relief, "Okay, what is it? I'm all ears."

"Is... Is there any reason in particular that we haven't... Like, ever gotten you off? Like, the focus is always on me..." You stuttered out, feeling slightly awkward about bringing it up seemingly out of nowhere.

Hongjoong looked at you with a serious face, before scrunching it up as he looked down, fiddling with his fingers as he thought of what to say.

"I mean, it will probably sound stupid to you, so I haven't talked with you about it." Hongjoong started, "You already know that I haven't ever been with anyone before, and I'm... Insecure about... things... I guess?"

"Can I ask you what things you're insecure about? I highly doubt I'll find them stupid." You questioned.

"I mean.... My performance? My weird faces I'll make? If I'll be too noisy? And... I'm not exactly... Big down there?" Hongjoong's voice just got quieter and quieter as he talked, "It's just, kind of scary to think about it not being good for you. So I just haven't done anything yet."

You looked at Hongjoong, who was too busy biting his lip and staring down at his own fidgeting hands to notice your staring.

"Oh, honey." You started, "Do you really think that I would care about any of that? I like you for you, and that includes all of you. Every part of you is special to me. I don't ever expect you to be perfect, no one is. I'm certainly not perfect."

Hongjoong looked up at you, staring into your eyes for a moment before speaking.

"... Really? You don't care about any of those things?"

You moved your hand to grab onto Hongjoongs, giving it a squeeze before speaking.

"I just want you to be comfortable with me, and happy... Also, you're really, really hot and I'm immensely attracted to you, if that helps you feel any better."

Hongjoong laughed, "Yes, yes that does help me feel better. But it's also scary! What if I'm not sexy at all during the times I need to be the most sexy to you?"

You raised your eyebrow, giving Hongjoong a teasing look, "You're... Literally so hot. I mean it. There is no way for you to not be hot when I'm working on making you cum."

Hongjoong blushed, feeling your words go from his ears straight to his dick.

You moved towards him, getting onto your hands and knees and crawling closer to him, "Can I try, please?"

Hongjoong slowly nodded, speaking with a tiny whisper, "I mean... Yeah... It's not like I haven't been wanting to, I've just been really nervous of what you would think..."

You finally brought your lips to his, kissing him slowly as you pushed him down onto his back.

"Are you really sure?" You asked, "I don't want to do anything you don't want to."

Hongjoong looked at you, gulping before beginning to speak, "Of course I want to do this, I've just been nervous and we hadn't talked about it or anything.... But I feel better after talking about it with you."

You nodded your head before bringing your head down to kiss him again, dragging your lips against his as your hands roamed his clothed torso. You could feel his heart racing, and his breaths were already getting shallow just from the kissing. He brought his hands to try to roam your chest, but you stopped him, pulling away to whisper in his ear.

"Hongjoong, this is going to be about you right now. I'm going to be focused purely on you. You deserve this, and I'm dying to see you."

Hongjoong let out a tiny groan, nodding as you brought your lips back to his to continue kissing him. You pressed your tongue against his lips, deepening the kiss to turn it into a full blown makeout session as you fully straddled him. You brought your hands to the waistband of his shirt, sliding under it to caress his abdomen. Hongjoong shuddered beneath you, letting out a tiny whimper into your mouth. All you could think was, "Fuck, and he didn't think he'd be hot?" as you felt his abdomen twitch beneath your fingers.

"Can I take this off?" You whispered against his lips, pulling at the waistband of the shirt.

Hongjoong let out a soft groan and nodded, sitting up slightly to assist you in removing it.

You looked down to see his bare chest, his nipples were erect and he was breathing heavily. Bringing your lips to his neck, you began to leave open mouthed kisses along his collarbone, nipping at his soft flesh as you moved lower to take a nipple into your mouth. Hongjoong brought his hand to cover his mouth, feeling embarrassed about letting out any sounds. You licked at his nipple, bringing a hand to fiddle with the other one as well and Hongjoong just arched against you, letting out small whimpers against his own hand. You could feel his cock twitching against your ass, knowing that he had to have wanted this for a while. You ground your ass against his cock and looked at him, only seeing his eyes roll into the back of his head as he moaned into his hand, body arching again and again off of the couch with every clothed grind into his cock. You moved your body lower, kissing along his abs as your hands began to fiddle with his belt.

"Please move your hand?" You asked him, reaching up to gently move it yourself, "I want to hear and see you, you're absolutely beautiful like this."  

Hongjoong looked away, feeling unable to meet your eyes, "I'm just... Embarrassed... But it feels really good..."

Hongjoong was blushing, his entire face and torso was flushed and a slight sheen of sweat was starting to form.

You focused your attention back onto his pants, making quick work to undo his belt as you tried to shimmy his pants down his thighs.

"Can I take these all the way off?" You asked, standing and stepping to the side of the couch to make them easier to remove.

"Y-Yeah..." Hongjoong sighed out, feeling like continuing to talk was going to be difficult for him.

You brought your hand to his boxers, slowly dragging them down his thighs as well. You finally saw his cock and immediately thought to yourself that he didn't exactly have any reason to be ashamed of it. It was maybe a bit below average length, a little on the thinner side but nothing to complain about. Hongjoong wasn't exactly a big guy in general, and his cock was proportional to his body size. All you could think about was how delicious he looked and how badly you wanted to please him in every way.

He was fully naked and you took in his entire body, he looked at you for a moment before covering his entire face with his arms, "Please... Don't just stare at me!" He shyly stuttered out from behind his arms.

"Hongjoong..." You began, climbing onto the couch again to rest between his thighs, grabbing onto his arms to try to move them to look into his eyes, "You are the most gorgeous human being I have ever seen, and your body is so goddamn beautiful, just like every other aspect of you."

You continued to look at him as he swallowed, not being able to find any words to respond to you. You brought a hand down to his cock, wrapping your fingers around it to slowly pump it and Hongjoong looked right into your eyes, letting out a soft moan as you stroked him.

"O-Oh my God." He groaned, "It feels so good."

You sat back onto your legs, settling into a position to let you see all of Hongjoong as you continued to stroke him. He was breathtaking; his entire body was flushed, he couldn't stop arching into your touch and at this moment you were nothing but thankful that he was so sensitive.

You brought your mouth down to kiss along his thighs as you continued to slowly stroke him, letting your tongue dart out to lick against the soft skin. Hongjoong whimpered, his legs began to twitch against your tongue with every kiss planted along them.

"P-Please...." He whimpered, "I need more, please. I can't-"

You looked up at him, his head was thrown back against a pillow, eyes closed and his mouth was wide open letting out continuous streams of heavy sighs and soft whimpers, his hands were gripping against the material of the couch and he looked desperate for release.

His begging is enough to get anyone going, you thought as you brought your mouth to the head of his cock, making quick work to lap up the beads of precum that had come to rest there before taking it completely into your mouth. Hongjoong let out a long moan as you took all of him into your mouth, arching into your touch as you held him at the back of your throat.

"F-fuck," Hongjoong stuttered out, "I can't believe how good this feels."

You continued to lick and suck on his cock, bringing one hand to lightly fondle his balls as the other hand rubbed tiny circles onto his inner thigh.

"I- There's no way," He spoke again, breathy and full of whimpers, "I'm going to cum."

You felt his balls tense up in your hand, and his shaft began to twitch and you knew he was definitely going to cum soon. You took him all the way into your mouth, letting his cock rest against the back of your throat. Hongjoong's hand found yours that was on his thigh, squeezing it as you felt him twitch against your throat.

It wasn't long before you felt him release, cum filling up your mouth and throat as he let out a long, breathy moan, crying out your name as he squeezed your hand as tightly as he could. He continued riding out his high as you moved your mouth against him, milking him for all that he has to give.

You sat up as he came down from his euphoric high, bringing your lips to his to kiss him again.

"Did that feel okay? Do you feel any better?"

Hongjoong looked up at you, breathing heavily and feeling slightly incoherent from what had just taken place, "Yes. I feel better."

"So, does that mean I can do this again?" You asked.

"Yes, you can definitely do this again." Hongjoong smiled, "In fact, I would be incredibly sad if you chose not to do this again."

You grabbed Hongjoongs clothes and stood up, "So, since I've seen you naked now... Does that mean we can start showering together?" You smirked.

Hongjoong sat up on the couch, "I think that sounds like a really good idea, actually." He giggled out, "And I'm thinking we could have some fun in there too? I think I owe you now."

You reached out your hand to grab onto his, pulling him up and into your arms for a hug, "I love it when you read my mind like that." You whispered against his lips, dragging him along to the bathroom for the inevitable round two.

[blzzrdstryr]

Galatea

Yandere(?) Albedo x gn!reader

Wordcount: 2410

CW: Panic attacks, hallucinations, slight dehumanization.

...and his creation was so beautiful: silent and non judgemental, pure and demure, it would endure any of his whims of love and passion.

Albedo looks calm as usual as he scoops the honey from the beehive, even though he doesn’t wear any protection; Bees are angrily buzzing nearby, but otherwise not attacking him. It would look strange to you if you didn’t know the answer: insects are not real. The alchemist created them, turning pure slabs of carbon, water and organic matter into tiny fuzzy bodies, as you watched the scene with wide eyes, one moment and a non-living becomes living. He commented on the whole process and while you tried your best to listen to him there were so many scientific terms and jargons in his speech that after some time you zoned out, preferring to observe the birth of insects instead.

There are bones and flesh and organs growing and fusing together. They writhe and convulse as blood starts to fill them. Whose body is it?

“Is this for examination too?”, you remember that Albedo was collecting honey several days ago, albeit in much lesser quantities, and when you asked what the alchemist was doing, he said it was for comparative analysis.

“Well, you could say that” alchemist looks at the full jar and closes the lid, “Previous analysis showed that this honey has the same compounds as the natural one in the same proportions and isn’t dangerous for consumption”. You nod, urging him to continue - even though Albedo isn’t the chattiest person, you noticed how talkative he becomes when you ask him for explanations.

“Smell and taste are usually dependent on the composition, but there is always a place for exceptions, so I decided to conduct another experiment, one that needs your help”

You raise eyebrows - alchemist, despite actually enjoying your company, usually didn’t disclose much of his work :“Is that so? How can I help?”

Small smile appears on his lips, subtle and controlled, “I want you to taste it”. He looks happy.

You have seen that smile long before. You can’t remember where.

You hate sweets, but there's something stopping you from declining. It's bone-deep and chilling, woven into every fiber of your flesh. You can’t get out the needed words, even if you wanted, with your lips somehow shutting tight at the mere thought. There's something stopping you from saying "no" to Albedo and you assume it's gratitude.

***

The honey turns out to be as sickly sweet as the one from the real bees. You frown, as you take another sip of tea, trying to wash down the saccharine taste from the tongue. Albedo sits in front of you and scribes something in his notebook, throwing occasional glances at you from time to time.

“It seems that we’ll need to keep this secret from Klee” you muse, no longer tasting the nectar on your tongue.

“Why so?” he asks, still writing - his handwriting is too small for you to see from this distance. You could stretch your neck to have a better glimpse, but it would be rude to do, so you refrain, curiosity still nipping at you.

“Well, you know what a big sweet tooth she is, and if she learns that your bees don’t sting...”

“But they do sting, just not me”.

“Why?”

“Bees were created with my will, so they just can’t. It’s against the nature of alchemical creation to oppose its creator”

You hum, processing the new information and guessing how far he would teach you that in your own alchemy lessons. You are far behind Sucrose or Timaeus in your studies, still stuck on basics, but Kreideprinz doesn't look displeased or bored with you. In contrast, mentoring you is something he really likes, judging by the rare smiles he allows himself to show. He proposed to teach you one day and you couldn't find it in yourself to turn him down.

You thought it was strange at first how the recluse seemed to favour you, but then as you familiarized yourself with a man you realized that he liked all things unseen and unheard before and your selective amnesia must be the one.

There are large gaps in your memory, but you can remember some small moments - peeking into a cave and plunging deeper into a forest out of curiosity, spending hours in the library, completely captivated by the book before you, feeling satisfied from finally solving an advanced math problem.

None of the memories include people.

It's an identity forming memories, Albedo theorized when you shared your concerns, experiences shape who we are, [First], and maybe that's why you retained them, they define you.

Were you as reclusive as him then?

A bit later you see what Albedo was drawing: a familiar bird and decapitated head. You are disturbed - how does he know my dreams?

***

Mondstadtians are weird, it’s the first time you leave Albedo’s lab and side, deciding to take a quick stroll around the city and look around. Some look at you with wide eyes, as if you just grew a second head before their eyes, some shamelessly whisper things to each other.

The knight that was assigned to look after you for the duration of the walk is no better than them. He also treats you like some sort of oddity, with all that persistent glances and hesitancy to interact with you.

What kind of person old you were to prompt such a reaction?

Walking along the streets of the city you can't remember any of it. Books that mentioned amnesia and other memory related issues stated that visiting once familiar places can help with overall recollection. Walking along the streets of the city you can't recollect any of it, memories slipping past your fingers like water.

You can’t remember the blue cloudless sky above, or the deep clear lake of the same shade or the gentlest breezes playing with your hair. You can’t recall the bright red roof tiles, or the giant windmills that dwarf other buildings, or the statue of the anemo archont overseeing the city. You can't think of once being among the other idle citizens, of praying and worshipping Barbatos, of participating in the windtrace or Ludi Harpastum. There’s emptiness where a familiarity should be, a dull ache rotting and festering at the back of your mind - I don’t belong here, I never did.

You don’t feel like a part of Mondstadt, not even a single part of you does. There’s an invisible yet unbreakable wall separating you from other people. You can smile and chat and be all polite and nice, yet there’s always a certain coldness and caution others treat you with. You want to be both accepted and left alone, feel loved yet be distant enough to avoid any emotional hurt.

Of course, there are people who managed to get close to you - Albedo and Klee, with the former one being your official caretaker and mentor and the latter being as bright as the Sun, you doubt there’s anyone that couldn’t fall under little girl’s charms, except acting Grandmaster Jean.

That must be why you act so warm towards them, why you decide to bare your soul and feelings towards them, no matter how scary it can be. That’s why you play with Klee, engaging her in less destructive entertainment than the fish blasting and that is why you never refuse Albedo in any of his requests, be it a quick walk on a sunny day or assistance in his experiments.

***

A familiar dream.

You see a giant owl, it's yellow eyes piercing right through you. It's a majestic creature, with snow white fluffy feathers and razor sharp talons. Bird looks at you with all knowing eyes, and then spreads its wings, soundlessly flying in your direction. You dodge it, still marvelling at its grace, as the bird continues its way to the giant head laying behind you.

You turn back still tracing the bird's flight, eyes then turning to the bodiless head. It has the face of an aged man with wise eyes, it's lips move silently chanting. There's something hypnotizing in the chant - listen to me and you will now, listen to me and I will tell you, listen to me and you will learn things that he doesn’t want you to know.

You take a step, hand outstretched to touch it. It burns your skin, and the world around you darkens, all sounds stop and soon enough darkness consumes the bodiless head too, leaving you all alone.

A memory comes.

You're absolutely naked and shivering with Albedo hovering above you. He says something but you can’t understand the words, liquid(?) in your eyes and ears. You hear Sucrose and Timaeus in the background too and how excited they sound.

You turn your head, catching the sight of slabs of pure carbon, bottles of water, pieces of lime and ammonia solution and the rest of organic and inorganic matter lying around you.

There are no thoughts and feelings - you are nothing but an empty vessel that needs to be filled.

"Timaeus, bring the blanket" It's Albedo's voice, “Sucrose, check.. [First]’s temperature. I will observe them”

“[First]?”

“It’s a fitting name”

The memory ends. You wake up.

***

You wake up to Albedo sitting near your bed. It's not a rare occurrence with him frequently checking up on your health, but the memories of previous dreams make you almost jump when you see his silhouette again.

"Uhm, hello?" you still sound husky from sleep.

"Apologies for coming here, I heard your whimpers and decided to check if everything was alright". His face looks as impassive as ever, but there's a concerned tone in his voice. He must be extremely worried then.

"I..” you start but then trail off, unsure what to say. Is the revelation that you dreamt even true? Aside from the strange coincidence and sense of isolation that loomed over you, becoming a bit unbearable with each day, you had nothing to prove your nonsensical conclusion: you are not real.

“I saw a dream, of me lying among the lime and carbon and water” Albedo gives you an intense stare, eyes and expression completely unreadable: “it wasn’t just a dream, was it?”

A moment passes and then another and you feel even more stupid with each second to just come to that conclusion, not to mention saying it outloud. And then the most unexpected thing happens: Albedo nods.

“Yes, yes it happened to you” he suddenly sounds tired, as if he admitted a dark, dark secret, that it arguably is. A shock goes through you, as you start to gasp for air - it’s one thing to speculate and guess, it’s completely different to hear a confirmation.

You can’t exactly remember what happens next - you think you broke down right there and then, as alchemist awkwardly tried to comfort you. He was explaining how and why he created you - he thought that your creation would give him answers he was looking for, solve his internal conflict, and then he started to wonder how different artificial life is from the natural one and that’s why he decided to give you memories.

It was hard at first, he says, to push back the existing ones back and replace them with new. Make you believe that you were born too. Memories were his favourite thing to do, he had a theory you see, that people are majorly products of their environment, and he wanted to prove that with you. That’s why he decided to mold you into a person with traits he usually finds valuable.

In the end you found yourself nursing a hot tea mug with a few drops of calming concoction dissolved in it. Albedo is lingering around in his own disquieted fashion, as you rethink your whole life - can it even be called a life anymore?

You glance at the alchemist fretting around you, frowning, and unsure what to do, the warmth and happiness you felt upon seeing him replaced by disappointment and confusion. Albedo isn't the one who you thought him to be, Archons, you're not the one who you thought yourself to be!

Suddenly the way all others interacted you became crystal clear - they treated you like oddity because you were one. You remember Klee and how she always seemed to love calling you her "bestest special friend". No way they don't know of your origin. No way they will ever treat you like a person.

There's an ache when you think about Klee also turning away from you; She is a sunshine personified right now, spreading her kindness and enthusiasm without even trying, but who knows what will happen once she grows up, will she have a problem with her peers because of you, or she'll adopt the general public's opinion of you? The thought is almost enough to send you into a crying fit again. You want to run far away.

"I want to travel" you finally say, there's no way you can integrate into society when everyone knows what you are and will always see it before who you are. You want to run away and start anew somewhere far, so the rumors will never reach that place and no one will look at you with that wide eyed stare again. You say what you think about this whole situation.

"Please, don't" he says and you of course stop, legs no longer listening to you, "I understand you are distressed right now, but running away isn't the solution"

"But I will never be able to truly connect with anyone, they know it, of my birth, right? The whole city knows about it, right?"

"I know that you want to feel loved, I… We are the same - before your creation I felt the same loneliness, I couldn't bond with anyone save for Klee, but interacting with you was far more pleasant than expected. Relationships are needlessly tiring and I never understood why people focused on them so much, yet now, looking at you I can understand them. I love you, [First], you are perfect".

You still again, now stunted by his words and sudden love confession. It's all so sudden and strange and confusing and you are too tired and too shocked to deal with this, so you decide to distance yourself. "I can't love you in return"

"But you will"

"Why do you think that?"

"It's against your nature to oppose me in anything"

Note: Galatea is an ivory statue created by Pygmalion, who later fell in love with it. The head in reader's dream is decapitated Mimir, a figure in Norse mythology who is known for his knowledge and wisdom. His decapitated head was reciting secret knowledge and giving counsel to Odin.

[couchpotatoaniki]

Our Fruitless Tree

As children, the three of you were inseparable. To show this, you planted a mulberry tree together--a symbol of your love and ever-lasting friendship that would withstand the test of time. But would it really?

Pairing: Servant!Hongjoong x Royal!Reader x Nobleman!Seonghwa Genre: Royal AU, Arranged marriage AU, Love triangle, heavy angst, fluff, childhood friends to lovers (?), Fantasy AU, Warnings: swearing, mentions of conception, blood, death (unknown terminal illness; tree), unrequited love, extremely poor story-telling, magic torture,  Word Count: 5.8k+

@atozfic​ IT MAY BE SHIT, BUT THIS ONE’S FOR YOU /g

A/N: the bridal bouquet in this is inspired by Princess Diana’s. I dunno, I just really liked it.

“Y/N! Come look over here!” Seonghwa yelled at you, hand waving in the air to beckon you over where Hongjoong and he stood. Even as children, the two were taller than you, as if their bodies had not cared you were of a higher status.

You were the only child of the Kingdom’s royal family, meaning that you had little in the way of friends. Especially when the future crown stuck to you, intimidating any future playmates. Luckily Seonghwa was the son of a family friend--a nobleman with immense power, who’s faithful lineage dated back to the creation of the kingdom.

Hongjoong was similar, the only difference being that he came from that of a servant family than of one of power, a debt made by his ancestors that had sold his life to serve the royal family. But being your servant had taught him from a young age that, unlike what everyone had tried to make you believe, you were pretty much a normal human with feelings, the weight of an entire empire on your shoulders from the day you were born.

“Coming!” you yelled back, hurriedly making your way towards your only two friends, the younger holding something behind his back while the older was practically bouncing with excitement. “What are you hiding from me?”

Grinning, Seonghwa’s hands pulled into sight, unfurling to show off the sapling in his hand. “It’s a mulberry tree! You love mulberries, don’t you?”

You believe that was the first time your heart skipped a beat--at the young age of 11--but you wouldn’t realise until a quite few years later, when life was much different, though the relationship between the three of you had not changed all that much.

That day was a precious memory, where the three of you had planted the young mulberry sapling in a secret garden that your father had built just for you, but you had opened it to Seonghwa and Hongjoong; a place where none of you had to bare the titles hovering over your heads.

Even the Earth was indiscriminate when it came to dirtying your clothes as you all kneeled to plant the young sapling easily becoming the most important thing in your friendship.

Had the three of you acting as if it was your shared child, arguing who would water the roots, talking to it as if it could respond.

As the years went on, life was much different than when you were all naïve children, but the care and love you had never weakened, even during the occasional arguments that burst between you all.

With age, Hongjoong’s untameable burnt-chocolate hair lightened to a gentle chestnut, long enough that he had to tie it back into a little bun. Seonghwa’s hair, on the other hand, had changed from a soft platinum to a dirty blonde, messy strands now pulled down into a neat style.

The two were lean. Both still taller than you, though Hongjoong was only a few inches from you.

The three of you truly believed you could withstand the test of time. That your relationship would never change no matter how long it had been.

“Are you ready for tomorrow?” you whispered, hand clamped to the stone railing of your balcony. “It’s your last chance to back out, Seonghwa.”

You could hear chuckling beside you, deeper than what you used to hear as a kid, though you dared not to look at the boy--the man beside you. “You know very well I can’t do that, Y/N. Would rather it be me that’s marrying you than some officious fool who knows nothing of your happiness.”

Sighing, you leaned over, letting your necklace dangling slightly in the air from around your neck. “Doesn’t mean you have to sacrifice your own happiness.”

You felt two colder hands wrap around your exposed arms, feeling nice against the humid summer night. Seonghwa’s chin rested down on your shoulder, as he looked on the same scene you were. Soft breaths against your skin had it erupting with goosebumps, and you prayed your friend had not noticed.

He did, but didn’t pay much heed to it--as per usual. If only he would put a little more though into the strange quirks you developed over time--developed around him and him only--maybe he would have realised that you loved him.

More than a friend.

Both of you were too lost in the moment to realise someone had entered your room. The final person to complete your trio. Hongjoong, dressed in his crisp cream and gold uniform, overlooked the scene of you two.

He didn’t know why his heart hurt so badly.

Clearing his throat certainly got your attention, ripping away from each other in fear that someone had caught you two a night before the wedding doing something you shouldn’t have. Was nothing like that, but people--especially those in the castle--tended to blow things out of proportion.

Upon seeing that it was only Hongjoong, you two had released a breath of relief. “For heaven’s sake, Hongjoong! You almost gave me a heart attack,” you said. Seonghwa had his eyes averted to the polished marble floor, unable to meet his friend’s, cheeks flushed.

You thought it was because of embarrassment that someone had caught the two of you so late at night.

It wasn’t.

“I think it would be best for you to return to your room, Seonghwa. Before someone actually does come looking for you. Don’t want someone to see you too,” Hongjoong laughed, now an expert at making a light-hearted aura around him with years of practice.

“Alright then. Good night,” the nobleman smiled, finally bringing his sight up to see his best friend, heart beating feverishly when he saw the gentle smile pulling at his lips. Couldn’t tell it wasn’t real, not even as he left the room.

Now it was just you and Hongjoong.

“Come, let’s take a walk.”

For as long as you could remember, the boy had been attentive to your needs (despite his occasional silly behaviour), long before he was told that it was his job. You’d like to think of it as his sixth sense; knowing how you were, what you needed, when you needed him.

Maybe that’s why he could tell that you had pre-wedding jitters, feeling so sick you barely had the life in you--skin looking more dreary than usual. You needed time away, even for a few minutes, to take a breather from all the commotion.

The two of you walked in silence in the sleeping halls, like two thieves in the night, careful not to wake anyone up.

Hongjoong was aware you liked Seonghwa, but he knew it was unrequited. Why, he could not his finger on. You were prefect, a person who deserved all the love in the world--in the universe.

You knew better than to ask where he was taking you; after all, you trusted him. And maybe because you also knew him well enough to know where he was taking you.

To the secret garden.

“She’s withstood all the storms and droughts the earth has threatened her with. No wonder her bark is so thick and her roots so tough.” His voice was tender as the tips of his fingers brushed against the rough bark, the trunk appearing darker under the absence of the sun. “Gotten so big, hasn’t she?”

As if his actions were a trigger, your hand reached out to stroke the mulberry tree too. “She has...” Tender look in your expression had his breath caught in his throat. Your eyes shifted to meet his, which were already gazing at you. “Do you think she’ll bare fruit this time?”

“The frost has long passed, so not this year, I believe.” Hongjoong couldn’t bare the instant hollow look in your eyes, saddened to his core until the light reignited in your irises--almost glowing in the dark like the fireflies surrounding them.

“But she will next year, right?”

“And she will bare the tastiest fruit. Better than those sold on the markets,” he reassured, though he had an inkling of suspicion that this fruit would not come any time soon. Not after all these years. But that spark in your eyes was the only thing he could not bare to extinguish, so he kept his lips pursed.

“I was reading up on the symbolism of the mulberry trees across cultures,” you said, moving to sit on the wooden swing that hung from one of the stronger branches; the rope had rose vines growing around it, which Hongjoong made sure to maintain so it was safe for you whenever you came. This was your favourite spot, after all.

He raised a brow, moving behind you as his hands rested on your back momentarily before pushing you slightly. “Is that so? Mind telling me?” He already knew from his extensive research to look after the tree, but there was no harm in hearing it again.

Excitedly, you let a wide grin play against your lips as he gradually pushed you higher and higher. “So, in Xiqen, it’s seen as a link between Heaven and Earth, and in Mika, it represents a support, nurturing and self-sacrifice.”

“Is that all?”

“Uh...yes.”

“Strange... I could’ve sworn there was some significance of the mulberry tree in Zepheth.” He began to slow down when he saw your back slump over slightly. Probably because he knew that it wasn’t a happy story.

“There is,” you mumbled, eyes downcast to the evergreen grass rather than meet his soft chocolate ones. “Just... it’s very sad.”

He held your hands in his larger ones, both of you loving the warmth it provided despite the slight heat of the night. “Not all stories are happy. Need to hear the sad ones too, to truly understand the picture.”

Words were a bit cryptic, even for him. Regardless, you had continued. “In Zepheth, there were these two lovers who were forbidden to wed, so they secretly arranged to meet under the mulberry tree. However, they were found out, and killed under the tree, staining the white berries red... It symbolises star-crossed lover and the final union of death.”

The air seemed to be still, despite the rustling of the leaves and chirping of the hidden crickets. Hongjoong kneeled down, pressing a hand onto your cheek to soothe even the slightest bit the grief in your face. “Good thing the other two have nice symbols. Cancels the bad things out.”

Chuckling slightly, you rested your own hand on his, nuzzling into his palm as your eyes shut. Stark contrast between your skins, yours being softer than silk while his were calloused and rough. But it felt nice against the supple flesh of your cheek.

You both thought so.

But with the moon so high and hair beginning to stick to your necks from the humidity and heat, you thought it best to return. “Escort me to my chambers? After all, it is a very big day tomorrow and we both have to rise early for the final preparations.”

As if he needed reminding of that. “Very well then.”

Your servant wasn’t happy with the proceedings--not when he knew that Seonghwa’s eyes did not meet the passion you had in yours, despite your many years of friendship. But he had to agree with him on one thing.

Seonghwa was the best and safest choice you (and the kingdom) had in this moment of time.

So Hongjoong didn’t protest when you walked down the isle in the most breath-taking attire, adorned with pearls and jewels, and a gorgeous bouquet of green and white; gardenias, lily of the valley, earl mountbatten roses, freesia, and ivy--and most importantly, white mulberries.

He didn’t challenge when the vows were spoken and Seonghwa promised to love you and only you forever.

He didn’t object when the Priestess gave the crowd one last chance to speak or forever hold their peace before the deal was sealed with a kiss.

Despite his gut and every other fibre in his being screaming at him otherwise.

Another two decades passed, and now strands of white hairs were peeking through, but unlike before, much had changed. You were now a parent of three--triplets, conceived within the first few tries.

Yunho, San, and Wooyoung. The mulberries of your eyes.

You suppose that’s when the rose-tint on your married life began to fade. Though he was extremely affectionate in the beginning, Seonghwa never touched you like that again after the birth of your children. Though the three kids never really noticed it much as it was all they had known, you could see it clearly.

How he would spend more and more time in his office. How he would climb in bed and talk about your day, but doing nothing more. It was if you two had reverted back to friends--that very thought breaking your heart when you had loved him so dearly.

Felt as if he looked at your feelings as if it were a trinket in a shop before putting it back, not finding it suitable enough for him.

But for Seonghwa, that wasn’t the case at all.

He tried--he really did--to love you.

By now, time had made him wise enough to know of your compassion for him and he begged himself to return your feelings. Spent many nights while you were asleep praying to the entities residing in the Heavens, crying on the hard floor of the palace’s temple until his arms grew sore and his legs went numb.

But he could not look at any other. Seonghwa could not stop his heart knocking against his chest, his cheeks pooling with heat, whenever he saw Hongjoong smile, or laugh, or do the most menial of tasks.

Could not stop the thoughts of him being by his side rather than you--and it killed him to think that, especially when you have been nothing but kind and loving to the both of them--never giving your personal servant too much work or being too stubborn in wanting your husband’s affection. Instead of pressing too much, you worked on the kids and kingdom.

You were kind, selfless.

Maybe Seonghwa should have let someone else marry you. Maybe they could love you back for all those times he couldn’t.

But he supposes that the best thing out of this marriage was his children. Despite Yunho’s hyperactivity, San’s clinginess, and Wooyoung’s mischievousness, he loved the three to the moon and back.

Helped you in raising them over the last two decades into great people.

It was the only thing he couldn’t bring himself to regret.

That, and how it had given him the excuse to be closer with Hongjoong too, the two of them learning how to look after the triplets (one already proved to be a handful, but three was a nightmare) while you were unwell or busy with other business.

There were times where he glanced at his childhood friend, playing games with the young kids or feeding them or changing them, and had completely forgotten about you. All that swirled in his head was if this is what it would look like if Hongjoong and he had a family together.

Then Seonghwa would snap out of it a spilt second later, cold shame eating away at the warmth in his chest because how could he ever think of such a thing about the mother of his kids?

Meanwhile, Hongjoong--your intelligent and faithful servant--had figured this out too. Figured out the reason why he felt so sick to his stomach when he saw you be so loving towards a man who doesn’t love you back, and why said man could not reciprocate your feelings.

If Seonghwa felt guilty, then Hongjoong felt a million times worse.

Felt as if he was the reason you were in so much pain--and he could tell you were, because he was the one you came running to in the beginning, when your husband kept his wall up around you and you became so frustrated and upset that you spilled waterfalls of salty tears onto his jacket, mumbling words of pain and heartbreak that stayed within the walls of the secret garden.

It stayed safe there, as Seonghwa no longer visited.

Not even you had visited less, despite being consumed with your children and the work of the kingdom. The tree was a sign of your love for each other, it was your very first child.

Hongjoong, too, had stayed. Continued to care for it, to keep it company on his breaks, to talk about his problems since he certainly could not tell you or Seonghwa. His own tears often landed on the roots of the tree, nurturing it with his pain.

Perhaps that’s why the tree had not bore any mulberries, from the saltiness of the water or the anguish it carried.

But he kept whispering the same thing to you whenever you asked, that the mulberries would definitely come, and they would be tastiest you would ever have. Better than those from the markets.

Five more years had passed and you grew ill. Hid it well, so well that no one except the royal physician knew of your condition. Not even Hongjoong knew, so you took that as an achievement. Rarely anything got by him, especially when it came to you.

Dr Yeosang had looked at you with dreary eyes, putting his equipment away which had signalled the end of your appointment. “Anything?” you inquired, coughing into a blood-stained napkin.

“I’m afraid there is still no diagnosis. None of the symptoms match up to any known illnesses and it appears that it is not spread by people since everyone else in the palace is as fit as a fiddle.”

Your smile was small as you chuckled. “Everyone except me, it seems,” you joked in an attempt to lighten the mood.

Yeosang simply sighed. “I believe it’s time. Tell your family before it gets even worse--which it has been doing since the first appointment. At least Hongjoong.”

“You know very well I can’t do that. We’re in the middle of a drought and there’s raids going on in the North--”

“Every kingdom faces those, and yours has already dealt with such situations in the past very well.”

You looked away, cheeks now starting to sink in from the lack of appetite. “I know,” you whispered, ”but I can’t bring myself to say it.”

He licked his lips in contemplation, understanding why you wouldn’t want to tell anyone. A monarch is as strong as the kingdom--any instability in the family will cause instability for the nation. And the same goes for a parent and their family.

“I suppose I can try to hide it a little longer... but a month is all I can do--from the rate your illness is progressing.”

Lips tightening in a thin line, you nodded. There was never going to be enough time. Would go greedy, wishing for a month, then another, then another. But your timer was non-negotiable.

So the first thing you did when you left the royal physicians was go see your sons. If there were anyone who needed your attention, they would be your boys.

Short on breath, you tried to travel swiftly through the hallways--bones, now weary with age and sickness, no longer moving the same way as you used to. As you made your way to the royal family’s private wing, you overheard wisps of conversation through a nearby door.

Slowing to a halt, you listened closer, recognising the voices but not seeming to put names to them--brain too muddled to think straight.

“--know.”

“You can’t do that, Seonghwa. Not to her.”

“I can’t force myself to stop caring about you, Hongjoong!”

Your heart stopped mid-beat.

“Keep your voice down!” There was a pause while the floorboards of Seonghwa’s private office creaked, most likely Hongjoong’s habit of pacing while he was thinking. “You need to. I care about you as a friend, but nothing more.”

“You think if I could, I would’ve done so already?” your husband’s voice was seething. “Heavens know how hard I have tried to love her, b-but I just can’t!”

“Well I can’t love you back, if that’s what you’re asking for.”

Another stretch of silence passed, and you could almost imagine the two glaring at each other as they normally did in a fight. “Because you love her. Am I correct?”

A soft sigh came from who you assumed was Hongjoong, quiet but still loud enough for your ears to capture (greatly timed to cover your own gasp at the revelation).

“I don’t know...”

“What do you mean by that?”

“...Nothing.”

“Hongjoong, you know you can tell me anything. Regardless of our positions before or after this conversation, we will always be friends.”

“This is better kept between me and the Heavens.” He sighed once more. “All you need to know is that we can’t be together because I don’t love you and I have my loyalty. End of discussion.”

Had it been anyone else, Seonghwa would’ve had them arrested for speaking that way to their king. But neither of you could ever so that to him. He was your rock, your old friend--his loyalty shining bright even after all these years of serving you.

Before Hongjoong could open the door, you had fled the scene, not wanted to be caught eavesdropping on such a private conversation--even if the topic had concerned you.

Just before entering the Princes’ linked chambers, you caught your breath, willing your pounding heart to stop beating so feverishly.

There was too much going on. Too much, and your brain can’t seem to wrap itself around it all.

“So that’s why,” you whispered, lacking breath in your lungs. “His heart belongs to another...” Then a fit of coughs burst once more and your hands scrambled to retrieve a fresh napkin tucked beneath your sleeve to catch the blood.

Upon hindsight, it was a bad idea to stop in front of your son’s private room, because your extreme coughing had caught his attention. Yunho’s confused eyes melted away to concern, especially after seeing the dark red liquid tainting the pure white cloth.

“Mother!”

His cry had attracted the attention of your other two sons, who swarmed around you as Yunho cradled his arms around you, guiding you to his bed.

San brushed the strands of hair that had escaped from your tight bun away from your face while Wooyoung rubbed your back in attempt to sooth your violent coughing. “What’s wrong, Mum?”

“We need to tell Papa!”

“We need Dr Yeosang--”

“He knows,” you tried to say, doing your breath to bring your breathing back to normal. “The doctor. He’s known... for a long time.”

“What do you mean ‘a long time’?” San asked, his hands clasped around yours, a desperate look in his eyes begging for an explanation. “What’s going on, Mama?”

Not right now. You were supposed to have a month extra. They weren’t supposed to find out so soon. “I...” you throat felt tight and dry, “I’m very unwell. The doctor doesn’t know what’s wrong because he’s never seen anything like it before.”

“Then we get a new doctor!” Yunho piped in, voice raised and slightly frantic. You really didn’t need them panicking.

“If Yeosang doesn’t know, then no one will.”

“What about Dad?” Wooyoung asked. “Does he know? Uncle Hongjoong has to know, right? Uncle Hongjoong always kn--”

“Neither of them know. We must keep it that way. So you need to pretend that I’m healthy and well for just one more month. That’s all I ask for. One month.”

You looked between all your children, trying to memorise their faces because Heavens know how long you have left.

As promised, the boys kept your secret for as long as they could--caring and tending to you as much as they could without arousing suspicion from Hongjoong or Seonghwa.

But before your month was up, you had collapsed just after a dinner--slipping in and out of consciousness while your old friend carried you up to Yeosang’s office, the rest of your family in tow, beyond worried.

Yeosang later explained, when you were fully awake, that whatever illness you had was growing at a much faster rate than he anticipated, and you had a few weeks at most.

Now, you were bedridden in your chambers, limbs too heavy and painful to move, lungs feeling like they were being pressed down from the gravity and it got harder and harder to keep your eyes open.

Not a day went by where your sons or husband visited you, and Hongjoong had rarely ever left your side. As strong as they all tried to be, their puffy crimson eyes and sniffling noses were all too obvious.

“Seonghwa? Hongjoong?” you said, voice faint and dry. “Could you go out... for a few minutes. I need to... talk to the boys.”

They exchanged glances, before following your quiet word. “What is it, Mama?” San said, crouched beside you as he held your hand once again.

Even as a man in his mid-twenties, your little baby still called you ‘Mama’ and refused to let go of his mother’s hand. Found you as the most comforting thing in the world.

“Remember... the mulberry tree? The one I showed you?”

“Yeah, Ma,” Wooyoung said leaning against the wall that faced you. Despite his playful and nonchalant nature, you knew he was the most emotional one out of the three. Which was why you were very concerned over his silence for the past few days until he finally spoke now.

“I want you three... to look after it once I’m gone.”

“You’re not going, Mother,” Yunho sniffled, tears in his eyes threatening to drop. He was the oldest (by a few minutes) and was still the most respectful. But even then, he was still a kind and soft-hearted boy, much like his brothers.

“But promise me... regardless. That you’ll look after her. And when she finally bares fruit...”

“It’ll be the tastiest fruit,” your sons recited in unison, eyes glossy with unshed tears, “better than any other on the markets.”

With the little strength you had left, you mustered a weak smile. “My good boys... You will become... fine kings one day. I have no doubt.” You let go of San’s hand, hand instantly being consumed by the cold from the lack of insulation and warm blood pumping through your veins. “Now... call in your Father and Uncle.”

And they did so, leaving the room to leave the three of you alone. “What is it, my dear?” Seonghwa caressed your cheek lovingly, but you both knew that it was more of a platonic gesture than a romantic one--more for you than it was for him.

“I know...about your love for Hongjoong.”

You could feel the tension in the air thicken to such a degree that you could slice it with the letter opener that resided on your bedside table. It was Hongjoong who spoke up. “Y/N, you need to know that we never--”

“Did anything... I know.” You look to him, that same weak smile plastering on your face. “Such a loyal friend. Never did deserve you, did I?”

He shook his head as he came down to hold your hand. “No--don’t say that. If anything, I didn’t deserve you as a friend.”

You chuckled softly, careful not to trigger another one of your coughing fits. “If I can’t say things like that... then neither can you. But I would like you both to do two final things for me.”

“Anything,” his voice was still strong, unwavering, but you knew Hongjoong long enough to see the stormy ocean behind his calm gaze, the turmoil he must be feeling right now from losing his closest and oldest friend.

“First thing is.. be happy,” you shifted your gaze over to your husband, “and you too. If you can’t with me... then at least with each other.”

For the first time, your servant let go of your hands, denying your request. “I can’t be happy without you.”

“Then learn to do so. After all, you have... the rest of your life.”

He couldn’t verbally agree to that, not when what he said was true. Not when his own heart lay in your possession--and would to until the day he passed as well. So Seonghwa took the painful step in asking what your second wish was.

You recalled the Zepheth’s symbol of your most beloved possession. Star-crossed lovers and the final union of death. Though the three of you were stuck in a sick triangle of unrequited love by the Heavens, it felt fitting for your story.

And perhaps, with your permanent presence, the fruit would finally grow.

“Bury me under the mulberry tree.”

Extra, alternative ending below If you’re not a fan of fantasy or torturous spirits or man-eating trees, just stop here.

Two young travellers searched around the ruins of a lost palace, greenery overflowing, filling every nook and cranny of the battered stone walls--a rather beautiful sight of Mother Nature reclaiming her lands.

“Where even are we, Mingi?” the shorter, more muscular one of the pair said, stumbling over vines and rubble as he followed the much taller man.

“Not where we’re meant to be, I think,” he quipped, looking at the architecture to find some clues of their whereabouts.

The other rolled his eyes. “This would’ve been a lot easier if you didn’t drop the map in the river.”

“Hey! In my defence, it was really windy and the rain made the ground slippery. Leave me alone, Jongho.”

“Not until you give me a damn map.”

Like the archaeology student he was, Mingi studied the tattered tapestry and engravings on the walls until it had hit him. “Holy mother of fresh, sweet hell.”

“What?”

Without answering his best friend’s question, the man too off running, as if he already knew the layout of the place. Jongho ran after him, screaming and almost tripping over the vegetation in the way of his heavy boots.

Once Mingi stopped, his friend held his knees, heaving to catch his breath. “What... the hell... was that for?”

Swivelling on his heel, the tall explorer had sparkles in his eyes. “This is it! The Lost Kingdom! The thing we’ve been looking for!”

Jongho’s head snapped up. “You mean you’ve been looking for? I was just dragged along by your antics as usual.” He narrowed his eyes when he finally saw where his friend took him. “A tree? You took me to see a goddamn TREE?!”

Mingi got closer the enormous mulberry tree, gazing at it as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. “Not just any tree. It’s the Queen Y/N’s tree!”

“Okay, let me get this straight,” Jongho sighed, feeling the rage burn within him like a furnace, “you took me to see a dead woman’s tree?”

“Yes, but--”

“WE ALMOST DIED, MINGI! TWICE!” He held up two fingers, expressing his point further. “AND ALL THAT FOR A GODDMAN TREE?!”

“The lore surrounding it was well worth the trip,” a voice said, the two boys’ head spinning to see a person dressed in old, fancy clothing, perched upon the swing--now completely covered with vines and moss. Both of them swore they hadn’t noticed them there. Yet, they brushed it off anyways, thinking that they just had silent movement.

“Who are you?” Mingi asked, head cocked to the side as he became familiar with the sight of them.

“The protector of this tree,” they replied. “Who are you?”

“Some travellers...sightseeing,” Jongho piped in, sceptical of this person who looked like they were in their twenties, just like them.

“You were talking about lore?” The older of the two inquired, already greatly invested in the whole place. “Are you familiar with it?”

“Why, I must be. After all, I look after her,” they said, lovingly stroking the trunk of the tree. “Would you like to hear it?”

“Yes, please!” Mingi sat down, like a child excited for story time despite knowing the book by-heart, while Jongho stayed stood up beside him.

“Well, once upon a time, there was a very strong and powerful Kingdom--”

“The Lost Kingdom!” the child-like man shot out, too giddy to hold back.

The person giggled, his antics reminding them of someone they used to know. “Yes, I believe that’s what you call it. Well, there were three children that lived here; one was of royalty, one of nobility, and the third was a servant--but they were the best of friends, despite their status.”

The muscular boy narrowed his eyes at the childish tone the person was using, not liking how it sounded--how it started to make him feel weary.

“They planted this tree,” they tapped the trunk with their hand, “right here, and nurtured it for as long as they could. As they grew older, the royal and nobleman got married and had children together, while the servant dedicated his life to helping them.”

Jongho sat down, feeling more dreary than normal, coughing a little, while Mingi did the same, not feeling so well either.

“They were all still close, regardless of personal disputes between them, but their love for each other began to weaken only once the tree remained barren of fruit. But they kept up hope, saying that it will the next year.”

The travellers had found it hard to breath, as if there was a pressure on their lungs, squeezing them flat.

“But then, the royal found out they were dying, so they asked to buried under the mulberry tree. In their mind, their body would give the tree the nutrients it needed to finally bare the mulberries they so desperately craved. But no fruit had bore, making the spirit of the royal restless.”

Jongho coughed violently, thick red liquid dribbling down his chin, looking over to Mingi who was hunched over in pain. "But... that’s a fruitless... mulberry tree.”

It appeared to be the wrong thing to say, as their brows furrowed, scowl pulling at their lips, the swing stopped swinging. “And who are you to say that?”

“Because I study... goddamn plants.”

Then it clicked in Mingi’s head--what was going on. “Jongho... shut up--” His chest squeezed harder, a yelp escaping his lips as he toppled to the side.

“Carrying on from that rude interruption,” the person glared at the younger of the two, who was now lying on his side, curled into the foetal position, “the nobleman and servant then died a while after, and were buried side-by-side with the royal.”

Overgrown roots of the tree began to soften, becoming more flexible like snakes as they began to slither their way to the two young boys.

“But even their bodies weren’t enough. So the royal’s spirit swore to use whatever they could to make the tree finally bare fruit.”

The roots wrapped around each boys ankle, spiralling up until it wrapped the two of them in a cocoon. And neither of them could do anything, too tired to yell or move around, succumbing to the sweet release of sleep.

Getting up off the swing, the person rested their forehead on the trunk of the tree.

“And it will be the tastiest fruit. Better than any other on the markets.”

A/N: If you didn’t get it, the tree not growing any fruit was a metaphor of unrequited love. I feel like I didn’t really explain that properly, but there you go.

[ask-aurachnid]

Spider-Verse: Part I

Word Count: 2883 Warnings: N/A

Something weird is happening, which is interesting, because Frankie’s bar for what qualifies as weird is incredibly high. From radioactive spiders to animal themed villains, to half the universe turning to dust and temporal anomalies opening across the city, Frankie wouldn’t say they’ve seen it all, but they’ve definitely come close. Still, when a glowing portal opens on the ceiling of their apartment just minutes after their return from an exhausting fight with Green Goblin, it still manages to surprise them.

The gravity it creates is intense, and no amount of webbing shot at the floors and walls can stop it from pulling them in. They barely even manage to pull their mask back over their head before the portal closes, stealing their room from view. 

The feeling of being sucked through a portal is the most bizarre sensation Frankie has ever experienced. It’s like touching a live wire with the way their spider-sense screams. Their body contorts through space time like candy on a pulling machine. They can’t help but yell the whole way, their voice contorting along with their flesh and bones until their journey ends. 

Aurachnid flies, screaming, out of the portal too fast to do anything except slam, face first, into a massive LED billboard before falling to the ground. Ow. 

They take a moment to get air back in their lungs before they begin the process of pulling their bruised body off the cement. All the while, New Yorkers edge around them without sparing a glance. Typical. Once they’re finally upright, Frankie pauses to take in their surroundings. It looks like Times Square, but it feels like something is wrong with their eyes. There has to be. The colors are too saturated, the texture of everything is all wrong, and it gives the appearance of a lagging frame rate. Is that storefront colored with Ben Day dots as a paint job, or did I land inside a comic book?

“JUDOS, where am I?” Frankie asks. 

“Error: JUDOS Offline.”

Before they can get any more confused, a voice speaks from somewhere above them, far too young to be any deity Frankie knows of. 

“Apparently Peni’s formula wasn’t as exact as she thought.” 

Aurachnid looks up to see… Spider-Man? He doesn’t look quite like the Spider-Man Frankie used to know. His suit is mostly black but with red accents and a logo that look spray painted. Not to mention, he looks… cartoonish. His mask lenses are comically large and, instead of telescoping, the edges seem to shift with his expression. His proportions are fine at a glance, but as Frankie continues to look at him, they notice how his head seems a little large, and his wrist and ankles dramatically small. The strange frame rate also seems to apply to his movements as he hops down to stand in front of Frankie. 

As he touches down, Frankie’s spider-sense crawls up their spine and reverberates like mic feedback through their jaw. It’s only done that once before, when Frankie met Peter for the first time. 

“What’s wrong with my eyes?” Gods only know why that is the first thing out of their mouth. “Where am I? Why do you look like Spider-Man but weird?”

Spider-Man(?) laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. “This is probably a bit of a shock, but you’re in another dimension. Some universes have different appearances and physics than others. And I am Spider-Man, at least, the Spider-Man of this dimension. Nice to meet you.”

Another dimension? 

Aurachnid.exe has stopped responding. Restart? Y/N

“Yeah, I’ll integrate that into my belief system. They call me Aurachnid,” Frankie says, holding out a hand to shake. 

Spider-Man shakes their hand, tilting his head in a way that makes Frankie think that he might be younger than them. “Just Arachnid? No hyphenation? You would not believe how particular some spiders are about that.”

Frankie sighs, “No, not Arachnid. Aurachnid. With an A-U-R like ‘aura?’” 

Spider-Man looks confused.

“Never mind. Okay, so I’m in another dimension. How do I get back?”

“That… is a good question,” he says. “You aren’t who I was expecting to come through the portal.”

“That’s comforting,” Frankie deadpans. 

“I need to contact a friend. Hopefully, she should be able to send you back to where you belong.”

“Then lead the way, Spidey.”

That’s how Aurachnid ends up following a strange Spider-Man out of Manhattan and into Queens. Is it the smartest move? Probably not, but it’s not like Frankie has any other way to get home. So, following the weird, cartoon Spider-Man it is. 

⦰⦰

It becomes obvious to Frankie as they follow Spider-Man, that he probably hasn't been at this very long. At the very least, he doesn't have any sort of tricking background. His web slinging technique is stiff, and, once they get out of the Manhattan skyscrapers into the low brownstones of Queens, he loses a lot of forward momentum. Frankie, on the other hand, has no issue springing from one streetlamp to another, even without the aid of their webbing. 

Eventually, the both of them come to an unassuming house, if not for the incredible amount of red and blue Spider-Man memorabilia piled on the front steps. The black-clad Spider-Man knocks politely on the door before swinging it open. 

"Hey Mrs. Parker!" he calls out, stepping inside with familiarity despite him greeting the owner with an honorific. 

Honestly, Frankie had been wondering if his secret identity was someone they knew, but if “Mrs. Parker” is actually May Parker, then they can safely say that this spider is not Peter Parker. 

At the sound of her name, Mrs. Parker walks out of the kitchen, into the living room where Spider-Man and Aurachnid are standing, drying her hands with a floral dish towel. She’s a fair bit older than the May Parker that Frankie knew, but she has a kind face, and she smiles at Spider-Man before raising an eyebrow at the strange spider behind him.

“Hey, kiddo. I was going to ask you how school was, but it seems there’s something more important going on. Who’s this?”

Spider-Man’s mask makes a surprised expression as he turns to gesture at them. “This is Arachnid-with-an-A-U-R. We accidentally brought them to this dimension, so we were heading down to the lair to use the computer. I just wanted to say hi, first.”

Under the mask, Frankie rolls their eyes at the way Spider-Man introduces them. "It's a portmanteau. Arachnid and Aura. Anyway, it's a pleasure to meet you, ma'am," they say, reaching out to shake her hand.

"And so polite. You should keep this one around, kiddo," Mrs. Parker jokes with the boy. "Head on down to the lair. I'll bring down some cookies if you're both still around when they're done, but you should get Aurachnid home before they start glitching." 

"Before I start what?" Frankie asks, but Spider-Man starts pulling them out the back door instead of giving an answer. 

In the backyard is a small shed. If this is what Spider-Man meant by "lair," then Frankie is going to be so disappointed. 

Spider-Man grabs a key from somewhere and sticks it in the padlock hanging from the door. At which point, the backyard is flooded with red light as a giant spider logo appears on the door, and instead of swinging outwards, the doors retract into the walls revealing an empty chrome room the appropriate size for an simple shed. 

Spider-Man steps into the room and turns around to look back at Frankie, still standing in the grass. Frankie recognizes the body language from years of living in a city full of tall buildings. Their dads' apartment building has one and their current building has one (though they usually take the fire escape). Frankie knows an elevator when they see one. 

No fucking way. 

"There's no way Queens is zoned for this," Frankie comments, stepping inside. 

Spider-Man just laughs as the doors slide shut and the floor starts to descend. Just the floor.

"Oh, this is definitely an OSHA violation."

There's not even a railing, as the elevator descends out of the short shaft and into an impossibly open space. When Spider-Man said ‘lair’ he meant it. The space is at least three stories tall, with huge, raised platforms, and things suspended from the ceiling by web-like cabling. There’s a god damned Jeep, of all things, and a row of glass cases housing more than a dozen variant spider-suits. Almost everything in the space adheres to the red-blue color scheme, which is a little strange, since this Spider-Man is wearing black and red.

“Dude! What in Hades even is this place? I have two suits that I keep in a bin under my bed, and I can’t even drive, let alone afford a spider-mobile,” Frankie gapes. When they look back at Spider-Man, he’s taken off his mask. Underneath is a young, dark-skinned boy with a grin on his face, but his expression goes solemn before he responds. 

“It’s not actually mine. It all belonged to the previous Spider-Man, Peter Parker. He was killed about eight months ago. Kingpin was using a particle accelerator to try and bring back his wife and kid, but instead Goblin messed it up and brought a trapped of spider-people here. One of them was the one who was supposed to come through the portal, but instead we got you,” he explains with a shrug. “I’m Miles, by the way. Miles Morales.”

Figuring they’re definitely safe from prying eyes, Frankie takes off their own mask, shaking out their hair. “Nice to meet you, Miles. My name’s Frankie Stevens. Trust me, I know a thing or two about dead Peter Parkers.”

Miles raises an eyebrow. “Really?”

Frankie nods. “Yeah. It’s been about a year and a half for me. There was this… alien, I guess? He got his hands on a few artifacts from the creation of the universe, which when combined, allowed him to turn half of all sentient life into dust. He killed trillions, including Peter, May, and both of my dads. I had to get myself emancipated so I could stay in New York.”

“I’m sorry, that must have sucked.”

Frankie shrugs, “Yeah, but what can you do?”

The elevator comes to rest at the end of a narrow walkway connected to the biggest platform in the lair. On one side is the row of glass cases housing what Frankie now realizes are the late Spider-Man’s suits, and on the other side, is the weirdest computer that Frankie has ever seen. Actually, there’s no computer that Frankie can see, but there’s a huge swivel chair, a large array of keyboards and input devices, and a ridiculous monitor array. There’s roughly eight of them, which is already too many, each roughly the size of a standard flat-screen TV, but it’s hard to say, since most of them aren’t even squares. In fact, the central monitor is a hexagon, surrounded by smaller triangle and trapezoid monitors. It makes the engineer in Frankie want to tear their hair out. 

Miles, however, acts like it’s completely normal, pushing the chair aside so he can stand over the keyboard. The screens come to life, and Miles clicks a few things until a girl’s face takes up most of the screen. 

“Hey Peni!” Miles greets. “How are things on your end?”

Peni somehow looks even more bizarre than the weird visuals of this universe, with her impossibly large eyes and exaggerated proportions giving her the appearance of an anime character. She smiles when she sees Miles, but her expression quickly sours into a pout. 

“The good news is that neither of our realities are collapsing,” she answers. “But the device didn’t work at all. So now I’m practically starting from scratch.”

“Well, I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Miles says, grabbing Frankie’s arm and pulling them in front of the monitors, presumably putting them in view of the camera. 

Frankie waves, awkwardly.

“This is Frankie, they came through the portal instead. So, I’d say you’re on the right track.”

Peni blinks in surprise a few times, before her eyes shift to focus on something else. She blows up a wad of bubble gum while she squints at whatever she’s studying. “Wait, I picked up an entirely different person? How did that happen?”

“I would also like to know that. Also, Mrs. Parker mentioned ‘glitching.’ Is that something I should be concerned about?”

“Hopefully not. Glitching is a specific form of cellular decay that affects people who travel outside of their own dimension,” Peni answers. “The formula I used which landed you where you are was supposed to fix that issue. Since glitching is caused when different realities’ atoms interact inside a single object or organism, making sure your atoms don’t change should be the key to preventing glitching. So, since you don’t have the same visual style of Miles, I think that part probably worked like it was supposed to. Though it might have been more complicated if you were from a dimension with different physics or one with a different number of dimensions.”

“Well, at least I have that going for me,” Frankie mutters. 

“Aha!” Peni cheers, seemingly finding something helpful. “I’ve got it! The formula I used for the device was meant to lock onto the strongest signal, in range, from someone with radioactive spider DNA. Since I was standing right next to it, I assumed that it would lock onto me, but according to these readings, I am far from the strongest signal. That honor goes to our new friend Frankie here. The coordinates they originated from were emitting a much stronger signal until after I activated the device. Now your current coordinates are releasing the same strength signal.”

“So, what does that mean?” Miles asks.

“It means that Frankie has the strongest signal by far in the nearby multiverse! With their help, mapping out the nearby web and finding the others would be a sinch! Just a few hours in each universe would be enough for me to get readings and begin deciphering the data within multiversal signatures, instead of just relying on strength. Frankie could act like barium in an x-ray machine, or a really clever signal relay!”

Frankie likes to think that they’re pretty smart. They got into NTSI. They graduated in the 90th percentile of their high school. They reverse engineered a passable version of Peter’s web fluid and they designed a much-improved version of his web-shooters. The point being, Frankie is intelligent, but honestly? They’re only grasping about half of what Peni is saying. 

Why them, specifically? If the multiverse is truly infinite, then there are infinite versions of Frankie. Why do none of them have a signal as strong as the one Frankie is apparently emitting? The whole thing is incredibly baffling.

“So, what do you say?” Miles asks, hopeful.

“I mean, I’m not against it,” Frankie says, “but I’m just curious what that would entail. I’ve got responsibilities in my own reality that I need to stay on top of.”

“You shouldn’t be missing from your own universe for more than a day, probably less. Hopefully, I’d be able to warn you about the portal opening ahead of time, and I’d definitely be able to send you back when I finish my readings. You’d just have to hang out in whatever universe I send you to in the meantime, and tell me what’s there, afterwards.”

“Ah, what the hell,” Frankie shrugs. “Sign me up. I’ll be your multiverse pinball or whatever. ‘Sounds like fun.”

Peni beams at them through the screen. “Ah, arigatōgozaimasu! With your help, we’ll find the others in no time!”

“No problem, I’m always happy to help,” they reply. “So, what now?”

“Well, I got plenty of readings from Mile’s universe last time I was there. Today was just supposed to test if the device worked, which it does. So, you don’t need to stay there any longer. I could send you home now, if you want.”

“Damn, I was kinda hoping to be here for Mrs. Parker’s cookies, but yeah, you should probably send me back. I have a lot of homework to do before fall break.” 

“Understood! Just a couple seconds to calibrate everything…” Peni trails off in concentration. “And here we go!”

Frankie pulls on their mask as an ominous, technicolor portal bubbles into existence a few feet away. Thankfully, this one lacks the extreme gravitational field of the first.

“See you around!” they say, giving a playful salute before letting themself fall backwards into the hole between realities. 

The feeling is just as strange as the first time, indescribable and intense, but surprisingly painless save for the screaming of their spider-sense. Their flesh and bones contort like Silly Putty, as they are pulled back towards their home dimension. And, after a few, incredibly anxious moments, the crisscrossing webs of the multiverse give way to an overcast New York skyline. 

Frankie tumbles, flailing, out of the portal, and there’s no time to right themself before they slam into the rooftop of their apartment building and flip ass over tea kettle. When they finally come to a real stop, they’re covered in bruises, and more than a little sore, but they’re back where they belong.

[lombredanslaeu]

love of mine [johnny suh] | m

genre:  smut

warnings: sex, blowjob, thigh riding, creampie, daddy kink

playlist: magic - she’s only sixteen | arabella - arctic monkeys | quick musical doodles - two feet | strange to hear - sports

“I touch you and it feels like the heavens allowed a devil like me in heaven.”

People say that you were in contrast with Johnny. His personality, style, and lifestyle were almost the exact opposite of yours. Most of the time you’d chuckle at their words. You also quiet see it sometimes. There was one thing that you and Johnny had in common that was unbeknownst to many is that you were obsessed with each other.

The bed creaked as Johnny laid you down on the mattress. You were expecting him to be lethargic coming home from a busy day at work. To your surprise, he was full of energy when he came home. Too much energy, in fact, that he immediately carried you in his arms and ventured into the bedroom.

The thick material of his dress pants rubbed against your bare legs. It felt sturdy yet soft - an immediate indication that it was expensive.

“Is this a new suit?” You asked in between kisses. Your hands roamed around his broad shoulders that were covered by his blazer.

“Yeah,” he replied, moving his lips down your neck. “You like it?”

“I do,” Your fingers found themselves among his hair strands, gently massaging his head. “You know what I think?”

He lifts his head to look at you. Your tongue ran through your inner lips. Johnny knew you had something lewd to say. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to hear it though.

“I wonder how good it would to have my pussy rub against it.” Your tone was low, wanting to show Johnny how deeply aroused not by his suit but bu everything that he was.

“Don’t say things like that, Y/N.” He warned. It sounded as if he didn’t want you pouring honey into his ear like that but his eyes sure do tell otherwise.

“Can you let me do that?” You whispered. You made sure to lift your hips from the bed to gently bump his growing erection with your core. “Please, daddy?”

The nickname made Johnny shudder. He had control before but the second you called him by his dearest nickname made him see red. He lifts your body from the mattress and before you know it, you were straddling him. You smirk, knowing full well that he could never resist you.

“Since when did you become this filthy?” Johnny said, his voice thicker than honey. You whined as you try to press your body down to his lap, hoping to feel his erection against you again.

He hooked his fingers to the waistband of your underwear. Once the material was out of the way, he guided you to his muscular thigh. The texture of his pants came in contact with your wet pussy. It was a bit cold but the new friction was too good to ignore. Johnny was quick to flex the muscles there and he could faintly feel you clenching your walls around nothing. He couldn’t wait to have those around him later tonight.

“Move.” He ordered. Knowing better than to disobey him, you rolled your hips against his thigh. The feeling was new and it was better than what you expected. With this position, your clit was gaining full attention. The delicious chafing of the little bud against the clothing formed a plethora of satisfaction inside of you. You felt so good you could burst at any moment. You loved the feeling so much you were afraid you could get addicted to it.

You leaned forward to catch Johnny’s lips with yours. With each movement of your lips, quickened the pace of your hips. You moaned against his mouth as his left hand gripped your thigh and the other hand palmed your breast.

“Daddy,” You moaned. “I need your dick, please.”

It was too early to fuck you. He still has a few tricks up his sleeve. Sure, he could never resist you begging him to fuck you but he knew that he was going to get that soon.

“Please, I’ll take it anywhere you want.” You whined, grabbing onto his knees as you continued to rub yourself against his thigh. He hasn’t told you to stop and you knew that if you did that without his word, you’ll pay for it.

“After you ruined my pants, you think I’ll give you what you want?” He asked. You could only let out a cluster of moans as a response. The pleasure was good but it wasn’t his dick. “Get down on your knees.”

You immediately obliged. Although you missed the feeling of your pussy and the friction, you definitely looked forward to tasting him.

“Suck me like how you wanna be fucked and let’s see what I can do.” He commanded. He helped you as you fumbled with his pants and briefs. It wasn’t long before all his glory stood tall before you. Johnny was long and big, perfectly proportional with the rest of his body.

You licked a long stripe against his shaft. You tried your best to take as much of him as your mouth would allow. For some reason, you could take all of him with little difficulty. It was as if he was made for you and you for him. You quickened your pace, your jaw was starting to burn. You ignored the burn when you hear Johnny’s deep breathing and growls.

“You’re the best girl.” He moaned. The compliment made you moan around him, sending vibrations through his dick, almost making him come. He didn’t want to come in your mouth though. He pulled on your hair, signaling you to release him.

“Always the best girl for daddy.” He said. “Get on all fours for me.”

You climbed onto the bed, discarding your shirt in the process. He took a minute to remove the remaining of his clothes. The air conditioning made your pussy shiver with the cold breeze. You were expecting Johnny to enter you but you were shocked when you felt a pair of fingers pull your pussy lips apart.

The slick image made Johnny groan. Your pussy glimmered under the lowlight, as if it wanted to be the center of attention. It caught all of his attention, alright. He smushed your pussy lips against your clit, making you jump at the sudden sensation. Strings of arousal attached themselves to each end and pooling around your clit whenever he pushed them together. From this view, Johnny could easily notice how your hole was beggining for attention as well. You were a glorious sight and he would do anything to make sure he will be the only one to see you like this.

His dick was yearning to be clamped by your walls. You slightly jump when you felt his head outside your entrance. Inch by inch, he enters you as if this was the first time you were taking him in. He definitely fucked you countless of times already but you were still tight around him. So tight that his breath gets knocked out whenever you clench around him. He was addicted to you - your pussy, your mouth, your touch, everything.

To show how much he needs you, his thrusts drove you out of this world. He was so long that he almost touched the end of your pussy. Each thrust made him deeply graze your g-spot. He wrapped an arm around around you to lift your upper body and pressed you against his chest. If it wasn’t for his support, you would fall face first into the pillows. One hand kept you pressed against him while the other was wrapped around your neck.

“Daddy, I’m gonna cum.” You said, struggling to form words due to how great you felt.

“Don’t cum yet unless I told you so.” He warned and you whined. “If you disobey me, I will cum on your stomach.”

You whimpered at the threat. You tried your best to hold it in, biting your lip to help you do so. Your cries and moans were accompanied by your uncontrollable clenching, symbolizing that you can’t probably hold it in anymore. But you didn’t want him to come on your stomach, you needed him inside. And you were his best girl who obeyed everything that he said.

Johnny couldn’t hold it in as well and you squeezing him each second didn’t help. He flipped you so now you’re on your back, looking at him with the pure expression you always have. You were his slice of heaven. Johnny didn’t know what that felt like until you came along. He would die if one day, you were giving heaven to another man. That can never happen. And so he pounded onto you to let you know that this was his pussy to ruin.

“You can cum now, baby.” He whispered. “Come on my cock, this is yours.”

Your moans became louder as the coil became tighter. As Johnny thrust in roughly, you saw the white dots that were accompanied by a tidal wave of euphoria. Only Johnny made you feel this way and it was only him you allowed to ruin you like this.

As you were about to come down from your high, the loudest groan he let out tonight erupted from his lips. A warm wave traveled deep inside you - the mark that you belonged to him.

[thisisthehardestthing]

The Gift - Small Might x Fem!Reader (Happy belated birthday)

Synopsis: Yagi frequents a coffee shop and falls in love, but there’s something beneath the surface of y/n.

Genre: Fluffy smut. I don’t write fluff so this was an experience.

an: I am extremely late posting this but happy belated birthday, Yagi. I would like to thank @evaesis​ for the request! This is the first time I’ve ever written for Small Might and it was a challenge! Thank you @heyybrittannia for your read through and kind words, and my wifey @joyousandverywarlike for beta reading even though you were on your last brain cell, i love you.

Warnings: Although none of my usual kinks are in here, I gotta tell you: unprotected sex, creampie, a bit of blood from his cough, catching feelings.

THE GIFT

It was Yagi’s favourite coffee shop: quiet, sandwiched between a bookstore and a flower-shop, small and cozy. In there, no one cared who he was, or used to be. He loved the smell of the gardenias mixing with the dark roast of his black coffee, no sugar, as he sat on a high top stool near the door, right in front of the window. He could watch passersby like this, imagine their daily routines, but also withdraw from his own day-to-day life.

Whenever the little bell above the door would ring, he’d pull out of his thoughts, to glance up. The other reason why it was his favourite was because it was the one you would frequent. Yagi’s always noticed you, working away on your laptop or reading a book in the corner of the cafe, a different one each week. Today, however, when the bell rang and you strolled in, you were empty handed. You walked right up to the cashier to order the seasonal special. Yagi’s deep, sunken eyes followed your figure, head turned slightly and chin resting on his palm. He could hear the bells in your voice make pleasant conversation with the person behind the counter; your laughter filled the air with music.

He snapped back to the front when he heard you say your ‘thank you, see you later,’ and walk back to the door. He expected you to leave and continue on with your day. He did not expect you to place a hand on the empty stool next to him.

“Do you mind if I sit here?” you asked, eyes closing with your smile. Yagi felt flustered, a slight blush tinged his cheeks at the thought of sitting so close to someone he only admired from afar. He shook his head, grateful that his blonde hair covered most of his face.

“Thanks!” There it was again, the sound of a bell as you sat down and enjoyed your drink, wordlessly staring out the window next to the ex Pro Hero.

He wanted to talk to you, to ask you on a date, somewhere a little dressier than a coffee shop. However, before he could muster up enough courage to do so, you closed the lid of your reusable mug and threw it in a tote bag.

“Well, see you around,” you said, before stepping around him and pulling open the door, leaving with his heart at the same time.

************************************************************************

The keys to Yagi’s apartment jingled in his door. It was already unlocked. His chest tightened, yet he steeled himself. Although basically quirkless, he was still a Hero. He pushed the door open slowly, allowing the soft light of the hallway to trickle into the room. With a single step in, the lights flashed on, faces and bodies jumped out from everywhere, all at once.

“SURPRISE! Happy Birthday!” A chorus of voices shouted as Yagi looked at his work colleagues and close friends. His heart raced a million beats per second, blood pumping in his ears, a cough tickling in his chest. He was touched, but also deeply annoyed at the intrusion when all he wanted to do was have a quiet night in with no one but the TV and a bottle of 1792 Bourbon to keep him company.

“Thanks everyone.” His voice was lost amongst the party chatter that started as he walked through the room, shaking hands. He made his way to his bedroom to quickly change into fresh clothes: a simple button up and slacks that hung loosely on his haggard figure.

A few drinks into the party, the tension he felt when he first walked in disappeared. He slung an arm around the sound hero known as Present Mic. Sober him would never have even considered doing that, despite how close they were.

“Hizashi, did we really have to make this a big deal?” he groaned, a cough suppressed as he looked around the decorated room, taking a large sip of his whiskey on the rocks. It burnt the back of his throat, numbing the tickle.

“Of course, man! It’s not everyday you turn thirty-seven!” Yamada’s voice was loud and grating, made slightly more tolerable by the alcohol coursing through Yagi’s veins, yet he sighed, content with the company.

It wasn’t a very large party, just a few of his closest friends were invited; Aizawa, Nemuri, Vlad and Ectoplasm. Strangely enough, none of his old students were there. He was in the middle of this thought when Hizashi pulled away from the loose grip on his shoulders to answer the doorbell, almost letting Yagi to fall to the floor without the sudden pillar of support.

It all happened so fast. One second he was leaning against his friend, the next, a chair was dragged beneath him so that his knees buckled and he fell back with a grunt. The cough he was biting down all night broke free and he covered his mouth, catching most of the blood droplets with the palm of his hand.

“What’s happening?” he managed to say as he wiped his hand on his black pants, trying to peer past the overbearing presenter and see who is at the door. He almost felt his other lung give out as he stared at the figure. He recognised you instantly, but none of the women behind you. You were every bit as confident as when he saw you earlier that day, but instead of a sweet smile on your lips, it was flirtatious and catty.

“Alright! Where’s the birthday boy?” you called out, eyes scanning the room to lock with the bright blue one’s staring at you, through you.

You faltered slightly, pulse quickening as you saw the cute guy from earlier. Out of everyone you could’ve danced for tonight, why did it have to be him? You had planned on asking him out this afternoon, having worked up the courage to finally sit next to him instead of sneaking peeks over the various books you brought to hide your gaze. Now, he would find out you were a burlesque dancer.

“Over here, ladies!” Nemuri sang, her voice called out to your group of girls that filled the living room. As they set up the music, you stood at formation, ready to begin the routine.

Your heart raced with more than performative adrenaline. Yagi’s eyes never left your body. Although all your friends were just as gorgeous, it seemed like they did not exist to him. As layers of clothing peeled away to reveal the sparkling costume beneath, loud whoops echoed through the apartment along with claps and hollers. It was tasteful, artistic, you were a professional, after all. The dance ended too soon, and with too many layers still on for the men in the room’s liking. However, as respectful heroes, they thanked you for your time and you left, taking one last look over your shoulder to see Yagi’s eyes still following your every movement. You couldn’t help but smile as the door closed behind you. Maybe you still had a chance the next time you bumped into him.

Yagi was unsure if it was the alcohol in his system, or the lust that coursed through his veins, but seeing you tonight, not nude, but neither fully dressed, snapped something in him. It was the push he was waiting for to make his move. He ignored the practical dronings of Aizawa and lurched out of his chair, sprinting to the door to catch you before you left the building.

“Hey!” he called, voice echoing in the empty lobby of the apartment block. You looked back, the group you were with pausing as well, but when they saw who it was, smiled coyly and bumped you with their elbows, whispering that they’ll be outside.

Yagi was out of breath when he reached you, stopping a metre short, breathing heavily.

“Hi.” He didn’t know what to say now that you were once again in front of him.

“Hello,” that voice of yours, back to being a melody that made his stomach flip. “Is something wrong?”

“Huh? Oh! Uh, no, it’s just,” Yagi trailed off, raising a hand to scratch the back of his neck, blonde hair standing up with the movement, “we’ve met before right? At the coffee shop.”

You couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your lips. Although embarrassing, he had recognized you, remembered you.

“Yeah! That’s right, I sat next to you today.” There was an awkward silence that stretched over the both of you as you thought of the next thing to say.

“Would you like to go have a coffee with me sometime?” he asked first. You couldn’t believe he asked you the question you wanted to this afternoon.

“I’d love to.” you gave him your phone number. He read your name, the sound of it like heaven from his lips and you wanted to hear it one more time.

It was close to midnight when Yagi called you, the party was already over. You waited three rings before answering and when you did, he wasted no time planning to see you the next day.

****************************************************************

You were running late, not even bothering with a jacket as you walked down the street to the coffee shop to meet with Yagi. Your first date. You had butterflies and the five minute walk took an eternity as well as an instant. You could see him through the windows, staring at his hands at a table near the back wall, a private corner that was meant for students during their exam week. With an inhale, you pushed open the door, hearing the familiar jingle above you. Your date’s eyes jumped up, eager and bright despite the shadows around them. You made your way to the table and he stood, towering over you, making  you wonder exactly how tall he was, and if everything hidden was proportional. The thought made you blush and you awkwardly gave him a wave. He pulled out your chair for you, waiting until you were seated before sinking into the seat opposite.

For lack of a better word, he was unbelievably sexy, exactly your type. The way his blonde hair was brushed back, with the stragglers framing his face, made your heart skip as you pictured your fingers running through it.

“How are you doing?” he asked, the question pulled you from your reverie. Could those piercing eyes read your mind?

“I’m fine, thank you… How are you doing? Hung over? It seemed like a fun party.” You saw his eyes darken slightly when you mentioned last night, but they shone again with his answer.

“Despite how I look, it takes a lot to get me drunk, so I’m good,” he laughed, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck, pushing his already spiky hair higher up.

“Good…” you replied, settling into an awkward silence. You had wanted this for so long, but now that you were finally in the moment, the thought of what to do and talk about eluded you. You needed something to break the ice.

“Oh, here,” he pushed a coffee cup towards you. You glanced down, only noticing that he had two cups when he brought it to your attention. “It’s the seasonal drink, I noticed you ordered it yesterday. I hope it’s not too forward.”

Those butterflies flew up into your chest as you wrapped a hand around the mug, fingers brushing his before he let go. A jolt of electricity bolted through you and down into your core. His hand was so warm, and even though it was for a brief second, you wanted nothing more to reach over and grab his entire palm.

“Oh! Thanks. No, it’s fine. This is my favourite, for now at least.”

He nodded his head in agreement.

“The coffee here is really good.” He glanced down at his cup, the plain, black liquid steaming and mixing with the sweet aroma of your own drink. His hands were so large, it was all you could do not to think about them on your body.

You uncrossed and re-crossed your legs, accidentally dragging your foot up his shin with the movement. The lightning in his eyes turned to thunder as they captivated your stare. His body stiffened under your touch, and you wondered if that is what you needed to get to know him better, crack through the tension and awkwardness. You brought the hot drink up to your lips, licking them after the sip, taking note of how Yagi’s eyes dropped down to follow the movement. You swallowed your nerves.

“Toshinori,” you whispered his name and you watched as he pressed his lips tightly together.

“Yagi, please, call me Yagi,” he interrupted you.

“Yagi,” you tested the name on your tongue, liking the way it dripped like honey. “Can I confess something to you?” He nodded, leaning forward expectantly to hear what you had to say with baited breath.

“I’ve wanted to talk to you for a long time now,” you shared, keeping your stare level, voice low. “I haven’t been able to get you out of my head and after last night…” You brought your foot back to his shin. Your sandal off so that your foot crawled underneath the entrance of his pant leg, trailing up slowly until you couldn’t lift it any higher. You caressed his leg in public, the arch of your foot perfectly pressed against the curve of his calf. “I’d like to give you a little birthday present.”

He bit back a moan when your foot dropped away, the depth of the ocean in his eyes as he searched your face for a hint of insincerity. Finding none, the smallest of smirks graced his lips and he stood up, his chair scraping back. He followed you out of the coffee shop, your drinks barely touched.

****************

Yagi only felt the slightest feeling of deja vu as he sat in the wooden dining chair in the middle of your apartment, the sundress you wore completely opposite to the dark expression in your eyes. The music in the background played softly as you swayed your hips, mimicking some of last night's routine.

You reached around to pull the zip down, keeping your eyes on the ex-Pro-Hero. When your back was open, you spun around, looking slyly over your shoulder as you pushed the shoulder straps along the length of your clavicle, feeling the fabric drop down your arms and fall to the floor, billowing in a circle around your feet. You heard Yagi’s sharp inhale more than saw it. Sure, he saw a lot of your body last night, the sequined hotpants number doing little to hide from his imagination. Now, your beautiful ass was on display and he almost stood up to take you to bed right there.

You continued to rock your hips to the beat, fingertips trailing up the sides of your waist, until it came to touch the fabric of your bra. You found the clasp and unhooked it, catching the cups against your breasts as you turned around to smile at the open mouthed man in your living room. You could basically see the words in his eyes, hungry, ‘drop it’. Your forearm came across your chest to cover your nipples as you peeled the bra away, gripping it loosely between your fingers, away from your body.

“Happy birthday, Yagi,” you drawled as the fabric dropped to the floor unceremoniously. Your palms cupped your breasts and he let out a whimper. You were always good at teasing.

The music, your skin, the way your body moved set him on edge. He lifted his hands and motioned for you to come closer. You obliged, strutting over to him. His eyes were right in front of your chest and he licked his lips as he stared at the mounds pressed tight to your body. You opened your fingers, letting the nipple poke through. You saw the way his eyes darkened and he grabbed your waist, pulling you down to straddle his hips. You let your breasts go to grip the top of the chair, arms caging him in. His eyes darted down. They traced over the soft skin and nipples, over your belly and the way your clothed groin perched just under the tent in his pants. His breath caught in his throat as you begun to grind down. He gazed into your eyes, your noses almost touching. You could feel his cold breath fanning over your lips.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered.

The hands on your waist traced up your sides, eliciting a shiver. Warm and large, they slipped around to your back, kneading the skin along your spin. You looked at each other, and for a few moments, time stood still. Then your lips connected and the universe exploded all at once. You could taste colour when your mouths joined. Your arms bent, fingers coming into contact with his blonde hair, and you threaded your fingers through it, tips massaging the scalp. His tongue swiped along your bottom lip and you readily parted them to let him in.

You explored each other's mouths, and when your chest pressed tightly against his, you were reminded just how clothed he was and how bare you were. A whine slipped from your lips and into his and you tugged the bottom of his shirt. His kiss faltered, and he pulled away. There was a swirl of emotions in his eyes before he lifted his shirt up over his head and threw it to the side. Your hands pressed against his chest as your lips connected once more. They trailed down and you felt his sinew and muscles beneath your finger tips from the years of hero work, until your right hand hit a texture different to the rest of his skin.

Yagi flinched into the kiss and you pulled away to glance briefly down, seeing the massive scar that bloomed over his left rib cage. His chest stopped rising as he held in his breath, so you closed your eyes and went back to his lips, letting your hands fall to his belt and shorts as you kissed him, opening the buttons but not taking them off.

“Bedroom?” he growled against your lips, hands moving to grab the bottom of your thighs. You mumbled affirmations against his lips as he stood and you wrapped your legs around his waist, surprised by how much stronger he was than he looked. The thought made your head spin, excited for what was to come. From the sudden loss of the floor, your sandals clattered to the ground loudly.

You whispered where the room was, pausing the kiss for a few moments to open the door, and then you were on your bed. Yagi stood back, admiring how you looked laid out on your sheets, topless with simple underwear covering the soaked skin between your legs. He kicked off his shoes and pulled his pants down, hooking his boxers at the same time so his cock sprung free all at once. Your jaw dropped at the sight of it, a girth unlike how lanky it’s owner was, and impossibly hard. He smiled at your reaction, glancing down.

“Like what you see?” he teased, fisting it with a few pumps.

You could only nod, mouth watering. You dipped your fingers beneath your underwear hem to peel them off but he shook his head. Climbing onto the bed, he caged on your body with his long arms, bending down to pepper kissing along your jaw and neck, trailing down your chest before it reached your lower stomach, right at the edge of the fabric. Two fingers rose to rub tentatively over your covered mound that was now drenched. He nudged your legs apart with his knees and settled between them. Kneeling on the bed, he tugged at the fabric as you lifted your ass to help him. A smirk danced on his lips, which turned into a moan when a sliver of slick broke apart.

“Damn, you’re really wet,” he mused, moving forward once more so that his chest was hovering over yours, two fingers expertly teasing your outer folds to make you keen in response.

“I’ve been waiting a long time,” you whined as the tip of his middle finger slipped inside. You instinctively arched your back in order to push more of the finger in and Yagi happily obliged.

“So have I.”

His fingers were longer, thicker than your own and he gave a few experimental thrusts as he leant down to place a soft kiss on your lips. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him deeper into yourself as he stroked your velveteen walls. The passion that had built up inside your body burst forth and poured into the kiss, lips parting in tandem and tongues dancing together. Yagi slipped in a second finger and you moaned, breaking the kiss to press the back of your head deeper into the mattress. You felt so warm, so wet, on his fingers that he couldn’t wait to feel you wrapped around his cock. He curved his fingers up, hitting that spot that curled your toes with each touch. You felt a finger on your lips and you opened your mouth to suck them, whining when they pulled out too soon before finding the pressure on your clit.

“Oh, fuck, yes Yagi.” His name rolled off your tongue so perfectly, sweet like honey, and he increased his efforts to wind up that coil in your gut. He felt your walls begin to squeeze rhythmically, pulling his fingers deeper in, his knuckles almost bruising your bones where they repeatedly slapped against your groin.

“That’s right, beautiful, cum on my fingers.” The pressure to your clit deepened, your slick creating a delicious friction with the movements. His words made your eyes roll to the back of your head, chin lifted as your hands flung out to the side to grab anything. He leaned forward, his height a strength as he scattered kisses to your neck. It was his warm breath fanning across your sensitive skin that pushed you over the edge, crying his name out as you convulsed beneath him. He weakened his touch, stroking you gently through your high, the hand on your clit reaching up to push hair out of your face so that he could watch you come undone around nothing but his fingers.

When you opened your eyes again to find him staring at you, you blushed, the heat on your cheeks rivaling the warmth in your belly. Yagi pulled out his fingers, and lifted them to his mouth, moaning at your taste. You whimpered at the sight, moving your hips so that they brushed against his thigh nestled between them, feeling empty without him inside you.

“Please fuck me, Yagi,” you asked, hands trailing down his back, purposefully skipping the scar that wrapped around his side, and traced circles into his sinewy skin.

The tip of his dick kissed your entrance, teasing up along your folds. Your heart pounded from the thought of his girth stretching you out, and your legs opened wider, knees bending acutely and hips slightly lifted. Then, he entered, and the feeling of you swallowing him in so readily made his pulse quicken. He had to bite back the tickle in his throat that would make him cough. He was moving slowly, relishing the way your tight walls wrapped around him, squeezing him, until he was fully sheathed.

“Fuck, beautiful, you’re so tight,” he wheezed, the tickle threatening to burst out. You could only mumble a response, feeling so full with him. An eternity passed, the pants from your body the only sounds in the room, before you dug your nails into his skin, his head snapping up to stare at your lust-filled eyes.

“Yagi, move.”

The simple words from your mouth spurred him to life. He dragged his hips back, agonizingly slow, before snapping it back. He set a fast pace, entranced by how you bounced with each thrust. A hand grabbed your breast, massaging the soft flesh between his calloused palms, relishing in how you responded so eagerly to his touch. Soft pleads filled his ears, asking for more, telling him how good he felt. He hooked a leg onto his shoulder, lifting your hips slightly as he connected against your skin. The hand on your breast snaked up, massaging the skin of your sternum, pressing to pin you in place. The other hand, the one that was inside you, found residence between your lips again. The taste of your arousal danced on your tongue and you sucked his fingers, eager to please him.

It had been so long since Yagi was with anyone. The life of a retired Pro-Hero that was no longer in the spotlight made it easy for him to slip away, looking so different from All-Might’s public figure. The way your tongue folded under his touch, massaged the grooves in his fingers, made some part of him lose control, thumb and pinky wrapping around your chin to pull your head down. It was almost bruising, the pressure delicious and real, eyes staring into each other.

He was completely in control of your body, the thought making you clench around him, wanting him to fall deeper into you so that he could never leave. The sheen on his forehead from sweat made you realise he was holding something back, so your hands reached up, tracing his jaw gently before trailing down the back of his neck and holding his shoulders. It was opposite to the rough pace he set himself in. You wanted to tell him not to hold back, but the fingers in your mouth restricted the words, so you pleaded with your gaze. The thing that kept him at bay snapped, and a deep guttural groan escaped from his chest, along with a cough.

The spurt of blood surprised you. It dripped down his chin, some falling on your chest, but his thrusts didn’t slow. His chin turned up, gazing at the ceiling as his thrusts became erratic, chasing a release. The palm pinning you down moved to wrap around your throat, squeezing only slightly in order to create that pressurized feeling of your blood flow being restricted. His fingers left your mouth, coming back to massage tight circles on your clit to build you up, willing you to find your release at the same time as him.

It didn’t take much coaxing, the bundle of nerves still sensitive from your previous orgasm, and your vision began to blur, however you did not take your eyes off his face, watching the blood leak from the corner of his mouth. It was primal, feral, and the clouded look in his eyes made you want to pull him close, into your skin. Your orgasm exploded, bursting at the seams as you clamped down on his cock, reeling him in close and you felt him release, his cum filling and warming you up.

He stilled, hands falling to beside your neck, caging you in, head dropped slightly so that his hair fell in front of his face, blocking his eyes. You shifted your hips, feeling his cock begin to soften inside you, but you didn’t let him pull out, locking your ankles behind his back to keep him close.

“Yagi, look at me,” you whispered. He hesitated, before lifting his chin and a reserved gaze caught your eye. “Kiss me,” you demanded, the blood on his skin not deterring your feelings of affection for him in the slightest.

The emotions in his eyes swirled before he gave in to your request, falling onto his elbows and pressing a desperate, sloppy kiss against your lips. It tasted metallic, warm and you moaned into it, legs falling open to relax. He collapsed down, rolling onto his right and pulling you tightly against his chest. You snuggled into his hold, nose pressed against his throat, fingers tracing up his sides carefully. You felt his cum slide out and down your thighs, onto your bed spread but you couldn’t care with how content you felt, floating on cloud nine with the man wrapped around you.

“Thank you,” his voice was hoarse, making you look up to figure out what he meant, “for not turning away.” The late afternoon sun peaked in between the blinds of your bedroom, littering paneled shadows on his skin. You pressed a kiss against his throat.

“Do you want to stay the night?” you asked, holding him tighter against your body. He nodded, nose burying into the top of your hair, a relieved sigh from his lips.

“I’d love that.”

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

@whats-her-quirk​​ @kamehamethot​​ @mmalfoydraco​​

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

Nsfw alphabet (all of it) for Loki? Also, l love ur star wars ocs 💕

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He praises you to high heaven after sex.  His words come low and soft as he cleans up you telling you, in so many different way, how perfect you are.  His silver tongue doesn’t stumble once.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He loves your neck.  It’s so easy to tease you with just a simple brush of his lips against that particular part of your skin. An open canvas for him bite and mark as he wishes.  And it’s the perfect fit for his hand to squeeze as he fucks you.

As for himself, he likes his hands. He knows you appreciate the length and dexterity of his fingers.  Not to mention it’s where most of his true power resides.  They are magic hands, after all. ;)

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He leaves such a mess when he cums.  He loves cumming all over your skin; stomach, back, face, tits, it doesn’t matter.  It’s his way of marking you. He’ll even take his fingers like a brush and paint it all over your body.

Even when he cums inside you, he still manages to leave his mark. He’ll spread you open, watching in fascination as a mix of your cum and his own drip down your inner thigh.  He likes to take his fingers then, and spread is down your skin before licking it with his tongue.  He’s a complete slut when it comes to cum.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He doesn’t have many to be honest.  He’s very open about what he wants with you.  After a thousands years or so, you learn that there’s no shame in sharing with someone you trust.

But, there have been a few instances he’s has to keep himself from moaning “mommy”.  He’s not sure where it came from and that’s one kink he’s does not want to explore.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Thor might be more bombastic, but Loki has perfected the art of whispering into an ear and making the hearer weak at the knees. So yes, he’s been around the block a few times with a variety of partners.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

It really depends on his mood.

If he’s in a dominating mood then he loves taking you from behind, your back pressed against his chest and his hand clasped around your throat.

If he wants to be dominated, then please tie his wrists to the bedpost and ride his face. He wants your cum.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He runs the gambit from emotional and intense to a sexy, but fun romp in the hay. There are moments he can’t help, but make a joke or a smug comment at your expense. It keeps things unpredictable.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He actually keeps up a pretty close shaved down there. Not that there was much there in the first place. Perhaps the first hint he wasn’t Asgardian.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

As I said before, he runs a wide range of emotions when you’re fucking.

But, when he is in the mood or his emotions become too overwhelming, he can be extremely intimate. Sometimes it’s praises as he makes love to you, wondering how he could be so lucky. Other times it’s desperate and pleading, clinging to your body and begging you not to leave.

And then there are days he just wants to have a bit of fun.

You’re never too sure what you’re going to get on an given day.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Not as often as you’d think. If he’s in the mood, he prides himself on being able to find a partner to satisfy him. Using his own hand feels childish and a little embarrassing. So, he won’t do it unless he’s really desperate.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

God, it would be easy to lists the stuff he isn’t into.

First and foremost, he’s 110% a switch. Yes he’s got mad Big Dick Daddy Dom energy when he wants to and there are a number of fantasies he has that involve tying you up and using you as his personal fuck toy.

But if you’re telling me this same disaster theater nerd twink doesn’t also allow his partners to peg him on the reg, then you are dead wrong.

That all being said, I’d also like to add exhibitionism to the list. There are times you swear he wants to get caught when he fucks you against the bookshelves in the library, or in the gardens or even against the one of the pillars in the palace. If it weren’t for his illusions, you might have.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

The most common place is your bedroom. That’s where you can pull out all the stops and really take your time.

But as I said above, he does take a certain thrill out of almost being caught. If he were being honest, he’s say the library was near the top of his favorite places to fuck.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Assertiveness is certainly top of the list. Knowing that you want him and no one else, combined with your confidence can lead him pleading at your feet.

Jealousy is also a motivator. If he sees another man trying to move in on you, that’s his cue to pull you into the nearest empty room and fuck you senseless. Alternatively, if he sees you getting jealous of someone hitting on him, then he’ll pull you aside and show you in every way he can that he is yours.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Infanalization, or really any age play where either of you is expected to act like a child. It’s insulting to him for one thing, since he can take some sexual humiliation, but he draws the line at not being at least considered a man.

As for you, he wants to be with an adult plain and simple. He finds it tedious and insipid otherwise.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Again, split right down the middle. There are nights that all he wants to do is tie your wrists to the bed posts as he buries himself between your legs, making you cum and cum again on his tongue until you can’t move.

Other times, he wants to pull your hair and fuck your face, making you take every inch of him before cumming down your throat.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Leans more towards the fast and rough, averaging at about 65% of the time. But for the other 35%, he takes his sweet time.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Yes and please. Preferably during a ball or some other formal event where he fucks you in an empty corridor before eventually rejoining the party like nothing happened.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

All the time. He’ll trying anything once.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He’s usually good for one to three rounds. But those rounds can last anywhere from 15 minutes a piece or a full hour depending on why you’re doing. So, stamina is never an issue.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

A whole trunk full. Like I said, he’ll try anything once.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

All the god damn time. If a party is particularly dull, he’ll spend the whole night teasing you. It’s a game to see how fast he can make you break.

There have been times he’s teased you right to the edge only to leave you tied to the bed and aching for hours before finishing the job.

And don’t even get me started on him trying to make you jealous of purpose. He’s such a drama queen.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He can be quiet if he really needs to be. If you’re having sex in a semi-public space he at least has the sense to keep it to himself; grunting and whispering dirty words against your skin.

When you’re in private however, all bets are off. He runs his mouth, he moans, he growls, and he curses like it’s going out of style.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He can talk a big game with one night stands, but his favorite kind of sex is with a consistent partner. He wants to be desired, but more than that, he wants to be chosen and chosen consistently. Having one person there every day choosing to be with him is everything.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Not an overly thick or heavy cock, but certainly longer than average and it’s width proportional to his size. A nice, pretty seven inch dick.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

It’s strange, but when it’s just him and one night stands, his sex drive isn’t insane. He’s not going to get a head ache if he doesn’t have sex and dry spells don’t bother him as much.

But when he’s actually in a relationship, his sex drive is off the charts. I think he ultimately like the idea of someone wanting and choosing him consistently. It’s one of his biggest turn ons. So, you guys are having sex at least every other night.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

It takes him a while to doze off. He likes to make sure you comfortable and clean. He’ll massage your muscles if you need it and talk the night away. He doesn’t want to miss a moment if he can help it.

[wann-der-lusst]

Cliché Drawing Sesh

By: Margareth Angelique Asico

"How do you decide on which reference you're going to draw next?"

"No one has ever asked me that before, well... I guess I just draw what I like. Why ask such a

question?"

"Nothing really. Just curious"

The sound of the pencil lead brushing through the paper, the sheer sunset filling the classroom, the sound of the birds chirping and the boy sitting in front of you was enough for you to get lost in your own world. It made your heart flutter on how much you're enjoying the scenery that your orbs are witnessing as you continue to draw- it was perfect you thought. You asked Joaquin to be your reference for your art project which took you by surprise that he actually agreed on such a sudden request. A chance like this doesn't happen every day so grabbing the opportunity of you not having to give excuses why your sketchbook was filled with his face would be great.

"Oi Santiago, someone's calling"

Instantly snapping off of your peaceful paradise, an immediate rush of adrenaline was released as the thought of him seeing your wallpaper made you quickly grab your phone in Joaquin's hand like your life depended on it.

"Ah yes, Hello?"

You answered the phone while glaring at Joaquin who was absolutely confused on your previous action since it was out of character of your usual self who is calm and composed. Nevertheless, you just saw him shrug it off which made you relax a bit.

"In front of the water fountain? The vending machine there? Why?"

"No, it’s okay, we'll be heading there anyways. I had some work to do so..."

“Right I'll see you"

Closing your sketchbook, you gave him an awkward smile as you began packing your things. He stood up from his seat- getting the idea that your drawing session has ended. You slid the door open exiting the classroom while Joaquin walked beside you.

"You're acting a little strange today" You chuckled with the sudden question.

"Am I?"

"Yeah"

Not being very expressive towards people, observing surroundings is much more preferable- to you at least. You figured that people tend to approach you less since they find you a bit intimidating. But given the circumstances, Joaquin never failed to surprise you on how well he can see through your reserved expressions which made you feel warm- important somehow. It made you feel as if someone's actually interested not only for your physical attributes, but for what's actually going on inside your mind and how you feel despite not being able to express it much.

The walk was quiet but relaxing, you were taken away from your thoughts as you felt a hand tap on your shoulder.

"Oh right, that's my friend... She was the one who called a while ago"

You walked towards your friend who seemed to have a companion whom you are not much familiar with. She leaned into the guy whispering something, giving you a smirk while raising her eyebrows before sneakily leaving. The boy looked incredibly nervous giving you the idea on what his intentions would be.

"Right, I'll get going for practice for the swimming club. Good luck to you two"

An intense, yet awkward atmosphere filled the place as the both of you stood there waiting for something to happen which actually took quite some time.

"Uhm, Santiago. I-I've been wanting to tell you this but I never had the courage to do so. I was... I was wondering if you would like to go out with me-"

Your attention dividing as a familiar scent went past through your direction observing him with your peripheral vision as he slowly disappeared from your sight.

"Hey uhm, as much as I want to... I'm sorry but I'm actually interested in somebody else..."

His expression immediately turns into a frown as soon as he hears you speak...obviously hurting from your response. You tried to comfort him as much as you could just so that it can lift a bit of the weight you've caused him which was not much of a help. He started walking away from you as soon as the conversation ended with sadness radiating his aura. You couldn't help but feel sorry but you were sure you already have someone to lend your heart to.

"Well, you seemed to be pretty popular around the boys." Joaquin exclaimed, coming out of nowhere.

"Aren't you supposed to be practicing for the swimming club?”

"I thought so too, but we were just called for a meeting."

"Is that so? Well, to be clear I am not in any way popular with the boys"

"You are Santiago, you are."

"How are you so sure?"

"Santiago, how many guys have confessed to you? How many of our classmates tried to take you on a date? If anyone's blind here, it would be you. I don't get it why you wouldn't date any of them though."

"Well, it looks like I'm not the only one who's acting strange today. Also, I have to finish the sketches so I wouldn't have to bother you from your next practice."

"Right, we can stay at the gym if you like since it'll be cold here."

You started sketching as soon as you've pulled out your art materials from your bag and once again, lost in your own little world. You were focusing on Joaquin's eyes - those brown eyes that looked as if they were shining, you wondered how he would look at someone he admires. His

proportions are outstanding, his build may be slim but the muscles which are gradually developing from his swimming practices are showing.. It would probably feel great to cuddle with him. His hands are perfect, his fingers are slender and you wondered how it'll feel like if you were to intertwine your hands with his. You thought to yourself how fortunate you are to have this chance to observe how beautiful this man is built, it is more than enough. Every imperfection seemed perfect when it’s him, it's unfair how incredibly handsome this man is and how he swiftly catches your attention. You drew every angle of his face as if you're drawing the final piece, you didn't want to mess up anything. You wanted to capture his amazing features; he surely is one of a kind. How can someone be so salty towards others be so considerate when it comes to you? Someone who doesn't give full attention to something he's not involved with will be so attentive when listening to your stories. How he notices everything that unease you despite your almost-emotionless face… Maybe he cares for me? You thought. Maybe I have a chance? Should I tell him how I feel?

You were once again, brought to reality with your phone ringing. A hand swiftly taking the phone

away from you making your heart jump from nervousness that you didn't even have the chance to see who's calling you.

"GIVE IT BACK"

A smirk forming on his face while holding the phone above his head

"Fine, reach it then"

"That's too high!"

He began to tease you by giving you your phone but immediately pulling it away once you're close.

"I didn't even get to see who was calling!"

"Really? I'll answer it then"

"This is so unlike you.."

Fear takes over your body as you watch his fingers tap on the answer button, knowing that you'll

lose him the moment the call ends. You were trembling as if you've never been this scared all your life. You tried to desperately snatch the phone while he was talking but it was no use.

The call has been going on for a while and you had no interest on what and who he was talking to. You were about to snatch the phone but failed when he wrapped you into a tight hug with his arm.

He is way stronger than you leaving you no choice but to give up on not being caught. You were

contemplating on how you should react when he finally saw what you've been hiding. Every second that passed was like hell for you that you couldn't even enjoy how close you are to him…

"Okay, bye"

You didn't even bother looking at him despite knowing the call had ended. You wouldn't want to remember how he looked when he finally saw your wallpaper of him candidly eating his strawberry shortcake in a café which you secretly took the first and only time you hung out together outside of school.

Eyes looking down, you took a deep breath accepting what he'll eventually do. His grip lessened, releasing you from the hug. It felt like you were drifting kilometers away from each other. He placed his hand over your shoulders, putting your hair at your back as you feel his fingers trace your jawline lifting your chin up. You look at him teary eyed, wondering if this will be the last time you'll see him this close.

His eyes deemed, he never looked this serious before making your heart leap from the sudden change of expression. His other hand finding its way to your back forcing you to come closer to him making you jolt. He was leaning in front of your face, he was so close that you could feel his breath tickle your lips as you felt your heart racing.

"So is this what you meant when you said you draw what you like?" He said as his lips curled for a smirk.

"uh uhm uh”

Cutting you off, he pressed his lips against your forehead enabling you to process the situation. He pulled away so slowly that you felt every part of his lips losing contact with yours. Your body not being able to move, you tried to at least calm yourself just enough to be able to process the

situation.

"Joaquin...."

Your ears are tingling from the permission granted to you. Face now tinted red from everything that has happened, he pulled you into a back hug digging his face onto your neck sending shivers down your spine.

"What the hell came into your mind to do that?"

"Nothing really. I was just curious"

"Si-since when did you know?"

"I didn't, I was the one who called you on your phone. Turned out better than I expected. Couldn't ask for a better outcome."

"You jerk"

"I love you too"

[ironmandeficiency]

the game

pairing: wrecker / reader

word count: 2007

summary: when the bad batch’s resident loudmouth suddenly begins to tone himself down, his brothers are rightfully suspicious.

request: “ Hiiiii! Could you please write something for Wrecker with him and reader having a bit of a kissy sesh and the others boys walk in on them? Thank you lmao I love ur writing ❣️”

a/n: a bit steamy!!! like idk how this got away from me but i’m sorry if this is too heated, anon!!! i guess i’m just thirsty and my brain went on autopilot. but can you blame me?? it’s wrecker we’re talking about!!

the havoc marauder touched down onto the base’s landing platform with a gentleness the ship only knew when you were piloting. you had been assigned to work with clone force 99 as their pilot after one too many close calls with other ships (and one ship they absolutely decimated by landing on top of it). said ship was yours, which was all the more uncanny when you received the orders to join them less than an hour later. you were trading a ship for a ship, essentially, with a few crew members included as a bonus gift.

there were days where you doubted whether crosshair could really be considered a gift but that was to be expected; the talking toothpick that mauled its brethren wasn’t exactly a ray of kriffin’ sunshine, you learned that early on. but he was practical and reliable, and him not eviscerating you for using his mug that one time made him okay in your book.

it took varying amounts of time for the team to warm up to you, which didn’t surprise you in the least. wrecker had been the first to grow used to (and appreciate) your presence on their/your ship - turns out your proficient flying was helpful in bringing the weapons specialist a bit more ease about heights. he seemed to open up after that and you were pleasantly surprised at the man he was behind the armor and gung ho attitude.

turns out he really liked animals, and the times he’d try to pet them were some of the only times you’d heard him whisper and move like molasses in the winter. his voice would turn soft and soothing as his hand would nearly obscure a porg from view while petting it, talking to the creature and taking it satisfied mewls as replies. the man nearly cried when he had the opportunity to watch two baby blurrgs hatch, the baby lizards imprinting on him when he was the first creature they had seen with fresh eyes (your heart broke for him when he failed to vouch for the creatures to become their mascots, hunter accompanying him to take them to a nearby village where there was a teary goodbye).

his affection for animals, funny enough, didn’t extend towards bugs. you learned this when he shrieked like an aiwha at a spider with a body barely the size of his thumb nail in the middle of the sleep cycle. everyone else had been too frustrated at him to do something about the arachnid so you had to be the one to trap it and release it outside.

wrecker was interesting alright.

so much so that after several months alongside the bad batch, you found yourself infatuated with the gentle giant in a manner you didn’t expect.

this infatuation led to months of stolen moments in random republic base supply closets (the few that could actually comfortably fit the two of you) and on planets you could only recall by what surface wrecker would press you against while his lips ravished yours. it also paved the way for the creation of a game on your end. wrecker wasn’t the biggest fan of the rules of the game, but he sure as hell did enjoy the reward he got if he won.

the rules were simple: if wrecker was able to refrain from making more than two references to a time he blew something up, to the ever-present desire of his to blow something up, or lament a lack of explosions, you’d give him a reward. now you knew this was difficult for him, not talking about his love for explosions and pyromania, so you played this game sparingly.

plus, the others were getting suspicious. you could tell by the way they had become the ones that brought up occasions for blowin’ shit up and expectant eyes when stealth missions were announced. they’d wait for him to complain about the required silence or make his yearning for fire and destruction known and raise eyebrows when their vod would shrug the words off.

you could tell it was almost cruel, but you were always sure to make his restraint well worth the struggle.

they had just finished another mission, everything going off with, for lack of a better word, a bang. it was strangely quiet within the bad batch’s comms when the outpost they took over had gone up in billowing flames and projectile shards of infrastructure, the inferno being one of epic proportions. but wrecker had remembered that the day before you’d promised him a quite pleasant reward if he played well.

he hoped to the gods that tech had gotten a good shot in his mission footage because it deserved wrecker’s full appreciation that he couldn’t give in the moment. times like this he despised that stupid game, but he had to admit that it made the anticipation that much stronger when he was finally alone with you.

wrecker barely focused on hunter’s post-mission spiel about something or another, favoring a glance at the cockpit where you were chatting with tech. his kih’vod seemed worried about something, which was normal, this was tech. but then his vod pulled up a holovid and you can see your eyes widen in shock and awe. most likely the blast footage from only hours before.

when tech showed you the epic blast that sent mayhem through the seppie troops, you felt guilty for starting the game the previous morning. wrecker would have loved to yell and celebrate a blast like that! there’d never actually been a time that the game went awry up until today, the explosions usually saving themselves for moments that the game wasn’t a deciding factor in your not-sleeping arrangements. this round’s reward would have to make it worth not celebrating the blast, worth more.

the post-mission routine was one you’d been doing for a while, wrecker waiting until his brothers were asleep (or otherwise distracted) before coming into the cockpit with you for some time to just be together. he’d usually remove you from the pilot’s chair, sit himself in it, and pull you onto his lap and hold you. being close to you was something he enjoyed and he would insert himself into your space however he could. it gave way to the best cuddling that you’d ever had the pleasure to experience in your life and a sense of safety like no other.

today, however, wrecker was impatient. the minute he was on board, he wanted nothing more than to barrel his way into the cockpit and show you just how frustrated he was about not celebrating the epic blast. there was a brief protest somewhere in his brain about getting caught by his brothers but wrecker didn’t care. he almost didn’t wait for tech to leave your side and for cross and hunter to disappear into their own parts of the ship before approaching you.

you heard his heavy footfalls reverberate off the durasteel and steeled yourself as the doors whooshed shut. you knew he’d be coming to claim part of his reward, but so soon? this was risky. there was barely time to turn on the ship’s autopilot before wrecker spun the pilot’s chair harshly toward him, pulling you away from the controls.

“do you have any idea what you do to me, cyare?” his voice was teetering back and forth between a growl and a whisper, sending chills through your body. “little gods, it took so much control to keep from shouting at the top of my lungs back there, and for what?” his hands slid between your ass and the chair, lifting you into his arms before plopping himself into the seat you formerly occupied. he maneuvered your legs to straddle him, keeping one of them on your ass and moving the other to the back of your neck.

this was a side to wrecker you’d never seen before, and holy karking hells you were loving it.

you brought your hands to either side of his face, thumb gently stroking the scar tissue near his cybernetic eye the way you know he enjoys. he was hungry, starving, and you weren’t one to deprive a man in need. your forehead pressed against his, eyes locking.

“i’ll show you what for,” you slammed your lips into his and ground yourself against his codpiece, the hand on your ass gripping hard in response. this was heaven, you were sure of it. wrecker’s muscles were tensing and relaxing under you and you could feel every bit of it.

he slid his hands to your hips and guided your movements, relinquishing control of the kiss as he moved your pliant body against him. the pace was rough and you both were capturing moans on your lips with no real effort put behind trying to contain them.

hunter’s nose wrinkled in response to the echoes of something familiar. for weeks he’s been trying to pinpoint the source of a scent he was unfamiliar with, only being able to catch its lingering presence. but now, it was hitting him full force and it was strong. setting down the blade he’d been sharpening, he emerged from the bunks and it only got stronger from there.

“is everything alright?” tech wasn’t looking up from whatever project had captured his attention, presumably seeing the twisted look on hunter’s face from the reflection of the shiny durasteel he was welding to whatever.

hunter shook his head. he’d questioned their youngest vod about possible sources of the scent and he’d had the same luck as him with discovering the source, also known as none. before hunter could bring up the elusive smell that confounded his nose, he was cut off by a noise from the cockpit.

why was the door shut? you normally left it open because the intercom system was terrible and you preferred shouting over the incessant crackling.

tech seemed to notice this abnormality as well, presumably having the same thoughts about why it was so strange.

“should we-”

“yeah, let’s check.”

both men make their way to the doors to the cockpit and hunter’s head is swimming. that damned scent was taking over his mind and it took him a few seconds before he could activate the door controls.

the whooshing of the doors carried the scent, now full-force, straight into the sargent and all but turned his brain into goop. then his eyes registered what exactly was happening in front of him. tech’s shocked/offended gasp wasn’t enough to snap you and wrecker out of your reverie, which would have been far more amusing if the mix of yours and wrecker’s pheromones wasn’t making his insides into soup.

crosshair had ventured up front to see what had tech so flustered, the sniper nearly choking on his toothpick at the sight of their pilot grinding on wrecker’s lap. the choking was what brought the two of you out of the hazy cloud of lust that permeated through the cockpit.

no one said anything for a long moment. what was there to say, really?

“don’t snap ‘em in half, wreck. i’ve gotten too used to not crashing in this damned thing.” crosshair turned and left the doorway. that was the closest crosshair has ever come to complimenting you, and you would have been a bit more focused on the achievement if wrecker wasn’t under you.

hunter snickered at the comment and had to hide his laughter at the fact that despite being walked in on, neither of you removed yourselves from the other’s hold. you had the decency to stop kissing now that you knew that you were found out, thank the maker.

should hunter feel bad for the strong urge he has to forget this ever happened? eh, cody’s probably got that visor on his gear to block out the bullshit his jedi gets up to, so no. hunter doesn’t feel bad about forgetting this and doesn’t think he could.

“just don’t crash the ship or leave a mess, that’s all i ask.”

[rohad93]

Moonlit Masquerade: Ch 2

If Luz was honest, her illusion classes were fun, especially since she shared them with Gus, but she wasn’t very good at them, despite her flair for the dramatic and natural affinity for a certain kind of showmanship.  

Though it wasn’t appreciated back home if her audition for Romeo and Juliet was anything to go by. 

Theater was supposed to be dramatic! 

Instead, it only landed her in the principal’s office.  

Gus was way more advanced than her in class, obviously, since she couldn't do any of the actual spells, but she did excel in the book portion of the class. She didn’t need a magic bile sac to read. 

All that reading came in handy too, one of her books had some diagrams in them that looked suspiciously like glyphs to her. Playing with them on paper she had discovered that one of them was. The whole class had turned to look at her when she’d made that discovery, because she had let out a shrill screech of excitement. She’d almost forgotten about it with all the stuff that had been going on the last week.

By drawing the symbol on paper and placing it on any part of her body, and concentrating on what she wanted it to do, she could cast an illusion of her choosing over herself. She hadn’t yet discovered any practical uses for it, and it was always fairly small, but it was fun to play with. She could cast small illusions over objects too. The illusion lasted as long as the parchment stayed intact with her skin.

She traced the symbol on some paper, tongue poking out in concentration till she was satisfied with the result. With her other hand she concentrated and tapped the inked symbol, a faint blue glow surrounded her fingers before fading to reveal her clawed hand. She grinned to herself and looked up at Gus, who was watching her with rapt attention. She bared her teeth and made a clawing motion at him, sending the younger witch into a barely restrained laughing fit. She giggled along with him

Now, this would have really gotten her sent to the principal and for an actually decent reason. 

With a twirl of his finger, Gus’s hands morphed to match hers and he growled back, trying to look fierce but both of them fell into a laughing fit before the teacher shot them a warning look.

She’d need to share this one with Eda later, though there was no telling what uses she might come up with to use it for.  

...Probably smuggling things…yeah, that sounded like Eda.

Any classes she shared with her friends always seemed to fly by much too quickly for Luz, even if the material itself wasn't always very exciting… or she got into trouble by messing around with her friends because the material wasn't exciting, either way, class always seemed to flash by.

The bell screamed and she jumped up, shouldering her bag. The second half of her Tuesday meant abominations with Amity. She grinned to herself as she jogged through the halls, carefully dodging other students as she dashed down the hall. Abominations 101 was in a different section of the school and if she walked she was always late. The last thing she wanted was the teacher and Amity scolding her.  

Amity always saved the other seat at her table for her though, no matter how late she was. 

She was always excited to have class with her friends, but for some reason she was extra excited to get to abominations today, she was thrumming with energy. well, more than she usually was. She wasn’t exactly sure why, if she had to guess though she was just excited to talk to Amity, the witch had been flittering on and off her mind since she’d left the library yesterday. If she thought about it hard enough she could still feel where the witch’s arms had squeezed around her shoulders and her breath had whispered against her neck. The thought caused an involuntary shiver to ripple through her. 

She was a very touchy feely person, but nothing had ever caused that response before. She rubbed a hand over the goosebumps that had erupted across the back of her neck with a thoughtful frown. 

She hadn’t really allowed herself to show how heavily destroying the portal had weighed on her in front of Eda or Willow and Gus when they had come over the day after they had escaped the Emperor. She didn’t want to bring them down or make Eda feel bad, not that she had any reason too. She’d made that mess, so it was up to her to fix it, no matter the personal cost; it was her responsibility to fix her mess. 

Though that didn’t mean it still didn’t hurt. 

She hadn’t meant to let Amity see her down yesterday, but with just the two of them, alone in her secret room, those soft, gold eyes trained on her she had just… forgotten. 

Willow and Gus were easy to talk to, they knew what to say and were the calm to her bursting at the seams energy… 

Well, Willow was calm. Gus was still easy to talk to though!

That being said, it was just so easy to tell Amity things she supposed, to let her guard down completely. She always listened so intently and Luz just kinda forgot herself when they talked, things she normally wouldn't say had had a tendency to just spill out in her presence.  

True to form Amity hadn't looked at her with pity or anything but kindness and understanding. That small touch of her hand conveyed a lot, and thinking about it now made Luz grin as she skittered around the corner, heading straight for her class.

She skidded to a halt just inside the door, glancing around the room before her eyes fell on a familiar head of mint green hair. 

Amity's face was buried in a large, worn looking tome as Luz approached, her eyes scanning over the yellowed pages intently.

"Hey, Amity," she greeted, making the witch jump. Wide gold eyes whipped upward to look at her in surprise. 

“Oh, Luz, you’re here, like you said you’d be!” she exclaimed, face taking on a light pink hue as Luz sat her bag on the table and plopped herself in the empty seat next to Amity. She must have really surprised her to make her turn that color. 

“Yup!” She grinned, popping the ‘p’. “Whatcha looking at?” She glanced over at the large book that Amity had been so engrossed in.

“Oh, it’s a book about ancient, wild magic.” She closed the book to show the cover, which to Luz’s amazement was covered in designs that reminded her a lot of her glyphs. 

“Oooh..” 

Amity couldn’t help but smile at the starstruck look in Luz’s eyes as she peered at the book; the reaction she had been hoping for. Luz’s love for magic was as predictable as the rising of the sun. She could feel her face further heat up as she slid the book across the table to Luz.

“I brought it for you,” she managed to say without combusting, which was a remarkable achievement in and of itself if she did say so herself. 

“For me?” Luz’s bright brown eyes widened comically but Amity could only find the expression adorable, even as she tried to stamp down the stray thought that only furthered the heat in her cheeks. 

“Y-yeah, I found it in my family’s library and I thought it might be useful to you.” She gave a half shrug, as her eyes darted away from Luz’s.

Finally, and unbeknownst to her, mercifully, Luz turned her eyes away from Amity to look closer at the clearly ancient book that had been shoved under her nose, it’s hardened leather cover engraved with runes and strange symbols that could almost be glyphs. It was smooth and warm under her fingertips

“Wow,” she breathed, leafing briefly through the pages, she’d have to wait till after school to really look at it. “Thank you so much Amity!” She turned back to look at her, eyes locking as Amity had been watching her as she inspected the book.

“Sure, yeah, of course, no problem, keep it as long as you want,” she rattled off, glancing away and tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. 

Luckily for Amity the bell finally screamed, signalling the beginning of class. Luz slipped the book into her bag and turned back to face the abominations professor as he began class. 

She was so excited to get home and look through the book she hardly heard a thing the teacher was saying, but she tried, she really did. Abominations were one of Luz's harder classes since summoning them was entirely dependent on a spell circle, for which she did not yet have a glyph for, but she did practice creating the formulas for the abominations. Her classmates, usually Amity, would then summon it from the pot of goo for her to see if it was right. She was making steady progress in that bit. They did sometimes come out a little misshapen or with extra limbs, but hey, she was working on it.

Maybe the book Amity had given her would help her discover a glyph for it, from what she could figure, the Blight's had a history of witches that specialized in abominations. 

Speaking of, she glanced over just in time to catch the witch in question looking at her, with a small smile. Luz grinned at her and the girl jolted like she had been shocked before quickly facing forward again, cheeks reddening. Luz just grinned harder.

It was cute.

The second she realized what she had just thought Luz jerked up in her seat, blinking owlishly at her own thoughts. 

What?

Where had that come from?

She glanced at the other girl out of the corner of her eye, watching as she quickly jotted down notes while the professor walked around the room lecturing about the proper proportions for abomination slurry. The skin between her brows was furrowed in concentration as she quickly filled a page with rapidly taken, but beautifully written notes.  

She guessed... objectively speaking, Amity was cute, she admitted to herself. 

She thought of the book tucked away in her bag, she was kind too, once they’d cleared up all their initial misunderstandings. 

As top student, she was smart too.  

Also cool. 

And really good at grudgeby, she was a great dancer too… 

Luz felt her face heat up some as her mind kept supplying her with things.

Wait, what?!

She didn’t hear much the professor said after that, she was so busy trying to decipher her own thoughts. She must have sat their for a while.

“Luz?” The quiet whisper of her name made her jerk, glancing in the direction of the sound, where Amity was looking at her with concern. “Are you okay? You’re a little flushed.”

That of course only made her face hotter.

“Pshh, yea, of course!” she waved away her friend’s concerns. “Just… a little warm is all.” She smiled, tugging at the collar of her uniform. The smile on her face felt forced even to herself, though if Amity noticed she said nothing about it, she didn’t look at all convinced though, but she gave a little nod before turning back to her notes and what the teacher was saying. 

Had her eyes always been such a bright shade of gold?

‘What is wrong with me today?’ She thought herself as she slumped down in her chair. 

Unlike any other day the rest of her day seemed to drag by, especially her interactions with Amity, which for once she was glad were few and far between as today seemed to be a lecture day. 

The moment the final bell rang out Luz jumped up, saying a quick bye to Amity with the excuse that Eda needed her help with something right after school. Usually she dawdled behind on Tuesdays so the two could talk a little as they walked out to the front, but today she just had to get some space. 

“Oh, bye, Luz,” Amity was left saying as the human booked it for the door without a second look, but she didn’t let her thoughts linger on it for more than a moment, Luz was eccentric at the best of times after all.

[joonkorre]

its crazy late but

@drarrymicrofic prompt: blanket fort

(there’s no plot. none. just dudes being guys, guys being pals)

(caution: not very micro, more like a one shot. a whole lot of anecdotes. i’m writing this under a blanket with snow beating at my window, so of course this has to be very soft and warm. you have been warned)

“Hello?” Harry says into the dark. He’s just gotten home and instead of seeing the familiar orange hue of their beetle-shaped lamp (a gift from Luna, of course), there’s a single sliver of moonlight slipping through the curtains. Nothing else seems to exist in the living room but the echo of Harry’s greeting. Tangerine and sage drift into his nose, followed by the bitter tang of smoke. The scent of Draco’s favorite candle, newly extinguished.

Draco just left. Discovered a breakthrough in his research and fled to the Ministry lab, maybe.

Harry sighs. Unlaces his boots and hangs up his coat absentmindedly only for it to crumple onto the floor. Another sigh. He bends and retrieves it, deciding instead to throw it in the laundry bin. Might as well; he’s been trudging around in Dayhound mucus for hours and neither his dragonhide boots nor coat were spared. 

Walking into the kitchen, Harry grabs a glass from the drying rack and pours himself water from the pitcher in the fridge. It’s ridiculous how a simple act like this can drain his energy so, but it does. Curse breaking isn’t a walk in the park; even walking hurts, considering the amount of magic he expends on shite like a 500-year-old wailing locket on a day to day basis. Exposure to different kinds of magic - dark, Old Magick, elemental, countlessly and endlessly more- for 8 hours straight more often than not result in a fierce ringing in his temples and pinpricks on his skin.

After years of doing it, he can scarcely tolerate one Portkey trip from wherever he’s assigned to back to the main headquarter before getting uncontrollable shivers. Another 30 minutes on the metro, then a 10-minute walk home. In addition, Harry has to sleep for at least 8 hours every night to replenish his energy. Morning comes, he wakes up, Apparates to the headquarter, and the cycle continues.

Why does he even stick with curse breaking at this point? Right, a wry grin graces Harry’s lips, Draco thinks the uniform is hot. Oh, and can’t forget the job benefits, insurance, whole nine yards.

With the glass now rinsed and settled once more on the drying rack, Harry drags his feet to the bedroom. The clock - an antique Draco stole from his cheating ex - hits 7:18 PM, but getting ready to go to sleep sure sounds like a decent idea. Harry palms the back of his aching neck and winces. He’d go shower, scrub the dirt and tension off his limbs, and maybe heat up the leftovers from two days-

“There you are. I was wondering how much longer drinking water could take.”

Harry looks up from his slippered feet to see Draco. Or, more specifically, Draco’s silhouette. Behind some kind of white cloth. A white cloth that’s conveniently placed where the focus of the bedroom should’ve been. 

The relief at seeing his husband evaporates.

“What,” Harry says, “where’s our bed.”

Draco’s silhouette crawls to the opening of the cloth… tent-shaped thing. Pewter grey eyes peer at him behind strands of near-platinum blonde, its icy color soothed by the orange tint of… ah, so he’s brought the bug lamp in here. Neat.

“I,” Draco answers. Pauses. “Might have brought it somewhere else.”

“Somewhere else.”

“Yes.”

Harry shakes his head. An exasperated chuckle escapes his lips.

“Is ‘somewhere else’ the recycling center?”

“Why,” Draco flops down on the floor, appearing tired of holding himself up on his elbows for more than 10 seconds. It’s peculiar to see, the gesture a bit ungraceful for someone like him. Harry is helplessly in love amused. “Do my ears deceive me? Am I being confronted, cornered, accosted for being a good husband? Were the 5 minutes it took to Shrink and Levitate the wretched old thing away from our safe haven worth your condescension, dear lover?”

“I guess I did say I hate-”

“Correct!”

“-the headboard. Nothing but the headboard. Yesterday. While I’m half asleep. Baby.”

“Oh, pish posh, I hate it too! In fact, I’m doing us both a favor disposing of the entire thing altogether.”

“God, however can I thank you? I mean, you did rid us of our bed where we sleep on.”

“You can thank me by taking off those horrid gears faster and come here,” with that, Draco crawls back to where he was sitting before.

“You love these gears,” Harry says, hanging his harnesses and tool belt in the closet and walking into the bathroom for a quick shower, “you love them against your ba-”

“Put a lock on that filthy mouth, Potter, what will the Daily Prophet think?” Draco’s yell almost drowns out the shower spray. Harry laughs, his stomach hurting for the right reason at last.

When he re-enters the bedroom, Draco is leaning out from the tent thing.

“Come, get in, get in,” he beckons with a hasty wave.

Harry points to his wet hair with the hand holding his towel. Draco clicks his tongue and waves his hand more aggressively.

His husband’s level of theatrics is directly proportional to how slow Harry is at doing what he says, so he nods, fondness overflowing, and obeys.

“What’s all this?” He crouches and crawls in, eyeing the collection of pillows and quilts surrounding Draco and what would be Harry’s seat. It seems that he had also lugged in the chairs from their dining room to provide some structural support for the tent.

“A blanket fort, lover,” Draco says, his gaze tender. Harry’s finger tips tingle with every touch of cotton, linen, silk, as he gets situated. It’s been years and years and years and years, and Harry can never get used to, can never take for granted, the weight of his husband’s undivided attention.

“Huh,” he says, sitting down with an ‘oof’, “isn’t this for kids?”

“A blanket fort is a blanket fort,” Draco takes the towel from Harry’s arm and puts the throw pillow Ron knitted in his lap. He hits a button on the laptop in front of them, and Harry’s favorite jazz collection plays. He blinks. He thought Draco would play his questionable atmospheric-white-noise-POV-you’re-having-tea-in-a-gothic-vampire-library playlist, the weirdo.

Velvety smooth sax flows through the air. Harry exhales, easy and content, and lets Draco tilt his head. He towels Harry’s hair, massaging unhurried circles on his scalp and varying the degree of pressure. In no time, his head lolls forward, eyes closed, chin a breath away from his well-worn shirt. A slender, pale hand cups his cheek and holds his head up and steady. Meanwhile, the hand’s owner leans out of the blanket fort to get something.

“Ow.” A grunt. Harry smiles; most likely a cramp from all the leaning.

Then, his husband reseats himself, this time with a smell. A mouth-watering, delicious smell, tickling the back of Harry’s nose. He opens his eyes to see Draco lifting off the lid of a ceramic bowl perched on a tray, steam floating out and fogging Harry’s glasses. It’s purple yam soup, topped with chopped up shrimp and ground beef.

“Your usual order from the Viet place nearby whenever Pepper-up isn’t sufficient,” Draco murmurs, placing a spoon in Harry’s hand, his words warm against Harry’s temple. Huh, he didn’t think Draco would notice. “You said today you’d deal with those disgusting booby traps you showed me, thus I reckoned I should put the yams on our counter into good use.”

Harry stares at the soup, stunned. Draco must have taken his expression as something else.

“Oh, right,” he says, “I heated it up on the stove, but you were taking atrociously long so I casted a Heating charm. Let me take it off, okay?”

Draco flicks his hawthorn wand, a hand squeezing Harry’s shoulder as if he could see the prickling running up Harry’s nape.

He turns to look at his husband. When Harry’s career was starting to take its toll on his magical core, Draco didn’t hesitate to dive headfirst into Muggle living. Easier said than done, and it took months for him to stop frowning at the “absolutely bizarre, Potter, bizarre” appliances, but he got there in the end. Despite his constant bitching about everything, Draco not once raised a word about the drastic switch, effortlessly guiding Narcissa to gossip about the Albescu clan’s abhorrent matriarch when she asks about how he’s faring.

“Gosh, I,” Harry says. Mumbles, really, into Draco’s collarbone, filling his brain with the woodsy aroma of potion making that no amount of expensive body products can mask, “that’s lovely, baby, thank you.”

“Eat,” Draco says, rubbing his chin on the top of Harry still-damp hair and messaging his tense neck. Harry knows he’s breathing him in too. “Or I’ll have to heat it up in the kitchen again, and forgive me but I’d rather stay here for the next 12 hours, at least.”

“Lazy arse.”

Draco laughs, a momentary rumble of his chest, then moves forward to click something on the laptop. Harry’s on his fifth spoonful of pure comfort when the jazz music stops, and on the blank wall opposite from their blanket fort is the title card of a movie. Strange, Harry didn’t even notice the mini projector. He squints.

“Why is there Korean subtitles?”

“Lover,” Draco tosses a napkin at Harry’s crossed legs, “what is watching movies online without the occasional bout of piracy?”

“Pira- piracy,” Harry chokes, the hot soup stinging his palate, “we have a Netflix subscription.”

“You can’t find shite like this on Netflix.”

“Of course we can. Baby, we don’t know anyone who’s good at computer stuff and can deal with the viruses.”

“There’s no virus here, I checked.”

“How,” Harry stresses, “and again, piracy.”

“Sometimes,” Draco says, lowering the speaker volume, “not doing crimes… is worse.”

“What the fuck,” the main character, a square-faced woman with a python around her neck, has a monologue in a completely different language. “What the fuck? Is that Italian?”

“Yes, but I’m French.”

“And?”

“And they’re both Romance languages. I can understand certain words and translate it for you.”

No, he can’t.

“Why are you looking at me like that? Keep eating,” Draco settles amid the pillows, long hair settled on his satin-clad chest, white against emerald. Harry sneers at him - an unfortunate habit he’s gotten from Draco - and turns to watch the movie.

True to his words, Draco translates every dialogue and mimics the characters’ voices with zeal, contradicting his stoic expression and somber, interlaced hands, looking like a cranky judge having to deal with reckless teenagers on their anti-authority phase. Harry can tell that he doesn’t understand a thing, and soon enough he’s woven a story about how the thriller-mystery they’re watching is actually a vicious custody battle over a duck. For each of Harry’s occasional snicker at the absurdity Draco has thought up is a playful kick at his ribs.

Minutes pass. With Harry’s bowl now emptied, he puts it on a chair and goes to wash up. 

The moment he sits back down, Draco’s big toe pokes at his spine. Getting the memo, Harry grins and reclines on the pillows. His left side is flushed against Draco’s right, the kinks in his neck eased off from the angle. They, as per usual, gradually get closer to one another, and at some point, Draco lays his head on Harry’s chest and ear on his beating heart. It’s calming to him, Draco had said when Harry asked, on the third night of their honeymoon. With the war long behind them, there was nothing to fear. Only the constellations existed as their witnesses.

“You died, Harry,” he had whispered, full and tipsy. “It was the worst thing I’ve ever seen, despite all the shite I made you go through.

“You were so far away in Hagrid’s arms, I couldn’t see your face,” the night had been blinding, but his eyes had found Draco’s anyway. “It felt like my heart died with you.”

Harry had kissed his forehead and hugged him close. His heart had always been there for Draco to take.

“What’s up with the blanket fort?”

He has a lapful of Draco, a lungful of peach and cedar scented shampoo, and the sleepy timbre of his husband’s voice against his chest. The Italian movie is the last thing on Harry’s mind. 

“I wasn’t aware of its existence growing up,” Draco says. “Having anything other than an immaculate bed when one wasn’t sleeping was uncouth, see, so you could imagine my surprise when Teddy demanded to play in something as messy as a fort so often.”

Harry doesn’t need to imagine it; he had witnessed it himself. Draco, freshly released from a two-year sentence in Azkaban, mellowed and tentative, yet determined to reconnect with his mother’s sister and his nephew. Harry had been wary too, standing in the corner of Teddy’s bedroom, staring at the fuzz of blonde on Draco’s shorn head and his weak gait. Teddy, the darling boy with his clumsy hold on Draco’s thigh, afraid that the haggard man would trip without help, had led him to his play area.

“Fort, fort,” the boy had screamed in Draco’s ear, but he hadn’t flinched. He had nodded and gone along with Teddy’s babbled directions, then sat back on his heels and fixed a wide-eyed stare at the monstrosity Teddy had called a fort (his designing skills were, unsurprisingly, underdeveloped at the mere age of two). 

Swiveling his head, he had gawked at Harry, who had still been standing in the corner with his arms crossed, confusion and hysteria in the arch of his aristocratic brows.

It had been the first time he had looked at Harry in the eye for years. In seconds, it was 6th Year all over again, with him watching Draco pushing his food around with a fork from across the room, unable to look away. Obsession, a voice unlike Hermione’s helpfully defined, had slithered up and under his skin. It had remained there for years, stubborn and ardent, an emotion he had tried to leave behind time and time again. He’d never succeeded.

It’s Draco, after all.

“He never let anyone but him enter the fort, remember? Back when he’s still making us build it for him?” Draco’s fingers tap a random rhythm on Harry’s stomach. Harry tightens his arm around him, shifts a bit. “So many forts and I still didn’t know what it’s like to be in one.”

Somebody downs a shot in the movie. Harry doesn’t quite register it. “I don’t think I’ve ever been in a proper one either until now. Didn’t have enough space in the cupboard. Plus, the hanging around the beds at Hogwarts felt pretty cozy by themselves.”

Draco hums. “Mhmm, I say. Another ‘first’ for us.”

Harry glances at the crown of his head. The man doesn’t sound surprised; Harry wagers that he already knows and decided to make one for the both of them today.

They continue to watch the movie in silence, whites and blues and purples flooding his sight, until Draco yawns and Harry blinks his eyes shut for far too long.

“Baby.”

“Hmm?”

“Sleep?”

“Yes.”

“Where, then? We have no bed.”

“I still maintain that I made the right choice”

“Jesus Christ, you’re so rash for an academic.”

“Well, in my professional opinion, sleeping in a blanket fort every blue moon does wonders for one’s quality of sleep,” Draco gets up on his elbow to smirk at Harry, “we can look at other beds tomorrow, can’t we? Now hush. Rest.”

“Ha,” Harry says, at least 5 more words to follow up on that just on the tip of his tongue. But then Draco runs a gentle hand through Harry’s hair, taking his time with it, the remaining hints of Harry’s migraine from work fading with every curl of hair carefully unknotted. He mumbles this and that, silly, insignificant things, engrossed in his task, and Harry listens carefully as his eyelids lower.

Draco takes off his gold-rimmed glasses (so sweet and soft Harry can barely feel it), cleans them and puts them on a chair. Through half-lidded eyes, Harry watches him cover them both with a quilt and return to Harry’s chest, curling up like a cat. Draco’s arm is around his midriff, peach and cedar pervading his senses anew, and Harry forgets whatever he was going to say.

Cold ankles pressed against bare calves, Harry is already deep asleep when the credits roll.