#his little freckles -explodes-

[articskele]

IMAGINE KISSING THE ONCELER'S UPPER BACK AND SHOULDER BLADES ANDDNFJSDFHDS

[jijournal]

THE GREENHOUSE EFFECT | D.M

Summary: When you're paired with Draco Malfoy for Herbology, you expected eye-rolls and dead plants. But, you don’t expect that the most sudden pairings bloom the brightest.

wc: 1.7k+

cw: Hufflepuff!reader x draco. FLUFF! FLUFF! FLUFF!, a very pouty reader who loves and names her plants.

A/N: Alright you got me. I made up some of the plants mentioned cause I got lazy going through all the canon plants in hp. I LOVE LOVE LOVE HUFFLEPUFF!READERS! 💞

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

You’d witnessed many botanical tragedies during your years in Hogwarts’ greenhouses—Mandrakes shrieking their way into fainting fits, Puffapods misfiring into clouds of spores, even a Dungbomb incident involving a Fanged Geranium with a grudge and poor aim—but nothing, not even that, prepared you for the quiet devastation that was Draco Malfoy trying to care for magical plants.

“This one’s supposed to be droopy, right?” Draco asked one chilly morning, holding up a miserable-looking Flitterbloom, his face in lost confusion. The plant sagged from his gloved fingers like a limp dishcloth, the edges tinged with black rot, its once vibrant fronds now hanging as though in mourning.

Professor Sprout audibly gasped, pressing a hand to her chest. “No, Mr. Malfoy, it most certainly is not supposed to look like that! That poor dear is drowning in water it didn’t ask for!”

You bit down on your smile, valiantly trying not to laugh. You really did try. But the look on Draco’s face—offended, a little baffled, and thoroughly disgusted—was too much. Your shoulders shook with suppressed giggles, and Professor Sprout caught your eye with a hopeful glint.

“Y/N,” she said, a little too sweetly, “would you mind pairing up with Mr. Malfoy for the rest of the term? He could use someone with your… patience.”

You blinked, unsure whether you were being punished or knighted. “You want me to help him?”

“I don’t need help,” Draco snapped, standing straighter.

“You do,” you and Sprout said at the same time, your voices perfectly overlapped. Your eyes met. She looked vindicated. Draco looked betrayed.

And that was how you became Draco Malfoy’s unofficial plant handler.

⸻

You wore flowers like armor. Always. In your hair—violets carefully tucked into your braid, a daisy behind your ear, sprigs of baby's breath pinned like secrets. Your jumpers often had tiny embroidered petals curling down the sleeves or buttons shaped like blooming buds. When people asked, you just smiled like the flowers had chosen you that morning and not the other way around. Flowers were a part of you, just like freckles were a part of others.

“Is there a reason you always dress like a sentient meadow?” Draco asked once, squinting as you buttoned up a coat stitched with little yellow marigolds that seemed to flutter when you moved.

“It’s for luck,” you said serenely, smoothing a daffodil-shaped pin at your collar. “And it makes the plants feel at home.”

He stared like you’d just offered him a slice of moonlight for breakfast. “You think the plants care what you’re wearing?”

You tilted your head, genuinely perplexed. “You don’t?”

The first incident came swiftly. You’d barely begun working together when he attempted to nudge a Puffapod into blooming. One gentle poke was all it needed—delicate, respectful. Draco prodded it like it owed him an explanation, and it exploded in a soft-pink mushroom cloud of pollen.

You stood in stunned silence, covered in fuzz, bits of petal clinging to your braid like confetti. You tried not to pout. You really did. But you ended up cross-legged on the floor, mournfully collecting the petals and whispering soft apologies.

“She just needed patience,” you murmured, fingers brushing the frayed bloom. “A bit of kindness.”

Draco sneezed and looked utterly unconvinced. “It was a plant. Not a therapy client.”

“She had a name,” you said sharply, shooting him a glare. “Lulu.”

He gave you a flat look. “You named the Puffapod?”

You met his gaze with unflinching sincerity. “I would've told you her name if you didn't blow up her sister Lala earlier this year.

He sighed. "yeah... because plants have siblings."

The next week, he crushed a Bubotuber in a moment of casual irritation. One second he was ranting about someone stealing his socks, the next he squeezed the bulb like it had personally offended him. It responded by erupting in a burst of thick, greenish goo. Draco’s shriek of horror echoed off the greenhouse walls.

“You strangled her,” you said disappointed, trying not to frown as you dabbed away goo with a Moondew sprig.

“I barely touched it!”

“You manhandled her like she owed you money.”

“It attacked me!”

“She was terrified.”

He stumbled back, covered in yellow-green sludge. “Of what? My refined bone structure?”

You crouched next to the limp plant, wand raised, murmuring a soft charm. “Of being misunderstood. She’s very shy.”

Draco groaned. “Merlin help me. Not again.”

“She has a name,” you said firmly. “Matilda.”

“Of course she does.”

With a flick of your wand and a quiet word, Matilda shivered back to life, wiggling slightly in your palm. You leaned in and whispered something that made her glow faintly. She’d forgiven him. Barely.

“She’s a menace,” he muttered.

“She’s sensitive,” you corrected, stroking her stem.

Draco stared at you like he was trying to decide if this was some elaborate Hufflepuff prank. You smiled serenely and tucked a fallen blossom behind your ear.

By the fourth week, Draco had managed to offend a Flutterfern, enrage a Shrivelfig, and traumatize a Fanged Geranium into permanent wilt. The final straw came when he took pruning shears to a Venomous Tentacula like he was avenging a personal vendetta. It lashed out in protest, its tendrils flailing before curling in on themselves, whimpering.

You didn’t speak to him for the next twenty minutes.

Instead, you crouched beside the wounded plant, gently gathering its injured tendrils in your hands. You rocked slightly, whispering something ancient and low—more lullaby than incantation. Slowly, the Tentacula calmed. Its color returned in hesitant pulses. One vine curled around your wrist, tentative and grateful.

“You’ve got to be doing this on purpose,” Draco muttered from the other side of the greenhouse. “No one’s that bad at plants unless they’re cursed. Or a Gryffindor.”

You glanced up, your voice dry. “You think I’d hex my own greenhouse just to make you look bad?”

“Yes,” he said without hesitation. “With great pleasure.”

You dusted soil from your cheek with a dramatic flourish. “I’m petty, Malfoy. Not suicidal.”

He eyed you, then your boots. “You’ve got roses on your socks.”

“They’re embroidered,” you replied, lifting your foot slightly to show him. “Climbing roses. Very resilient. A bit clingy.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Like you?”

You grinned. “Like you.”

His ears turned pink.

The sixth time was different. He didn’t kill the plant. He merely terrified it.

A small Mandrake sat trembling on its roots while Draco hovered uncertainly nearby, brow furrowed, tongue between his teeth in sheer concentration, wondering how the hell did you manage to stop a mandrake from crying. You watched from a few feet away, arms crossed, trying not to interfere.

“If you’re going to loom like that,” Draco muttered, glancing sideways, “you might as well do it yourself.”

“I’m observing,” you said proudly. “You’re improving. That Mandrake hasn’t flinched in at least two minutes.”

“It keeps looking at me.”

“you mean, He. Well, duh he has eyes. Of course he's looking at you.”

“Judgmentally.”

“That’s a compliment,” you said. “He doesn’t usually acknowledge people he dislikes.”

Draco scowled, but the Mandrake remained intact. Which, for him, was practically a miracle. When he wasn’t looking, you snuck the plant a leaf treat. It quivered happily.

Later that afternoon, while you adjusted the angle of a sunlamp for your Asphodel, you sensed Draco stepping beside you. He didn’t say anything at first, just hovered—an odd, uncertain weight in the air. Then his voice came, softer than usual.

“You missed a spot.”

You turned, confused, just as he reached out. His thumb brushed a smudge of soil from your cheek, lingering a second too long. You froze.

The world narrowed. You forgot the cold, the damp, the faint buzzing of Pixie-flies overhead. For one suspended breath, it was just you, him, and the inch of air between your faces.

He cleared his throat abruptly and pulled his hand back. “You had… dirt. On your face.”

“Oh.” You touched the spot instinctively. “Thanks.”

He turned away, cheeks faintly pink. You didn’t say anything. Your heart was too loud.

⸻

All term, you’d been tending to a single Moonlily in the corner of Greenhouse Three. Once silver-bright, it had withered into something curled and gray, like it had forgotten what light felt like. Every class, you brought it a fresh blossom, whispered to it like an old friend. “I’m still here,” you told it. “Come back when you’re ready.”

Draco never asked about it. But he noticed. You caught him glancing at it when he thought you weren’t looking. Watching the way you cared.

And then came the last day of term.

Most students had left for the holidays. Snow pressed against the greenhouse windows, and frost dusted the vines in glittering white. You were alone, brushing a light dusting of ice from the soil, when you heard the sound of footsteps.

Draco.

He looked a little windblown, hair tousled, scarf half-untied. In one gloved hand, he held something fragile. Small. Pale.

A pot with a single marigold.

Its stem was crooked. Its petals trembled. But it was alive.

“I, uh… Professor Sprout helped,” he said quickly, almost defensive. “A bit. Mostly she just stopped me from killing it.”

You stared, lips parting. He shifted, awkward.

“It’s not perfect,” he said.

You reached out and took it gently, your fingers brushing his. The flower quivered in your palm like it knew who had grown it.

“It’s exquisite.” you whispered.

His shoulders sagged, some tightness easing in his jaw. “I... It reminded me of you. It's bright and... pretty. Very, pretty.”

You stepped closer.

“Thank you,” you murmured, voice thick with something you didn’t dare name. “I love it.”

And then, without thinking, you kissed him.

It was soft, tentative—dirt-smudged noses, cold fingers brushing warm cheeks, and the quiet, sweet hush of something just beginning. He tasted of peppermint tea and the kind of wonder that comes only after you’ve stopped pretending not to care.

Behind you, something stirred.

You turned as the Moonlily—the one you’d nurtured all term—gave a shiver, then slowly unfurled. Its silver petals caught the moonlight and glowed like a promise, blooming with the kind of gentle pride only magic, patience, and love can grow.

Draco stared, wide-eyed. “Was that... because of us?”

You clutched the flower he'd given you to your chest, heart fluttering. “She’s been waiting. I think... she felt it.”

He looked at you, the usual edge in his voice softened into awe. “You’re completely mad.”

You grinned, breathless. “You still think the plants don’t notice?”

And then, for the first time all term, Draco Malfoy laughed—really laughed. It spilled into the greenhouse like sunlight after rain, warm and unexpected.

“Fine,” he said, shaking his head. “Maybe they do.”

You reached up and tucked the crooked little flower he’d grown into your braid, letting it nestle behind your ear like it had always belonged there.

“Then they’ve clearly been paying more attention than you have.”

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

masterlist!

[neigepomme]

big fan of the trope where caleb cries because he's frustrated. i like to imagine it's some time after his body neutralizes the toring chip, and he's still getting used to fully feeling his emotions — but you do something reckless during your hunter job that lands you in the hospital.

caleb's notified of it. he sees you lying in that dreadful hospital bed, your eyes closed, and looking so much more vulnerable. afraid to hold your hand, to touch you, out of fear of breaking you — and he feels so powerless. no amount of control and strength he holds as the fleet's colonel can change the fact that you're on a hospital bed, with only the faint beep of your heart monitor serving as a reminder that you're still alive.

when you wake up and see him at your bedside, you squeeze his hand and flash him a weak smile.

"just a scratch, you know," comes out as a whisper, your voice still hoarse.

and caleb knows you.

he knows that you're just trying to comfort him, to let him know you're okay. he's fully aware of your personality, how you try to put on a brave face most of the time with him, and how you try not to ask for help anymore. 

somehow, that little comment, meant as reassurance, just makes the frustration bubble in his chest. a star about to explode, to turn into a purple sunset supernova.

he wants to yell at you for being careless with yourself. he wants to hold onto your shoulders and shake you. he wants to question you — "do you even know what could've happened? you could've died," he would say.

however, seeing you so frail in front of him makes him incapable of doing that. and you end up staring at something you didn't think was possible.

caleb's shoulders sag.

a sigh of relief, quickly followed by hiccuped breathing.

a wet drop on your hand.

a sob.

caleb, the man who always put on a brave face in front of you, the man who you never saw crying, was sobbing in front of your very eyes. years of boxed feelings, compartmentalized emotions, facades put on bravely, all came shattering down at once. 

then in between sobs, you hear caleb speak, his eyes still glossy, his freckled cheeks dusted pink and streaked with tears.

“i thought i'd lose you today.”

and in the quiet of the hospital room, you see in front of you the same boy who'd been experimented on, who suffered more than most — and yet he cries, not for himself but for you.

it'll all be okay eventually. for now, though? you simply hold his hand and brush your thumb over it softly, all while whispering apologies and promises of never scaring him like this again.

[lvl109]

oh captain, my captain ✶ caleb xia

summary.ᐟ fem reader. wc: 6569. ( ?! ) belated birthday smut because the caleb demons were perched on my shoulders for almost three weeks. half plot half porn because here goes yappatron 3000.

teddy says.ᐟ this was originally supposed to be under 2k words, lmfao. i haven't written smut in a hot minute and didn't know how to end it so show grace. big big linkon sized thank u to my local caleb girlie @neigepomme for answering my silly characterization questions. i told u i was gonna site u as a source and i meant it. surrendering myself as a member of #applegirlnation now bc wdym this started as a joke. there is absolutely nothing funny about six thousand words for a man. sobbing hysterically what is this life. + idk who started writing mc as 'emcee' in fics but i thought it was cute so i used it too. :)

“avoiding the question isn't going to make me stop asking, you know.”

you've been at this for almost two hours now. following him around your apartment with narrowed eyes as he whistled cheerfully and avoided your budding frustration. the shared space is warm with the afterglow of a shared meal and lighthearted conversation. 

or at least, lighthearted until he started ducking your questions.

“i don't know what you're talking about.” his grin is easygoing when he turns to you, blinking innocently as your stare turns into one of comical disbelief. “i did answer your question.”

“answering a question with another question is not an answer—!”

caleb only smiles sheepishly in response. you swear—if not for the fact that he looked cute when he smiled, you'd punch him for his cheeky behavior.

“ow—okay, okay, i'm sorry!”

arms crossed in petulant expectation, you watch as he sighs dramatically and sags into the couch. his head leans back against the plush material, closing his eyes briefly before another smile, this time a bit resigned, crosses his lips.

“i meant it when i said what is there to ask for?, you know.” when his eyes open, his gaze is soft. “i've got everything i could ever ask for, and then some. the two most important people in my life are safe and cared for. i don't really need anything else.”

your expression immediately softens. you knew how selfless your boyfriend could be. it was practically hardwired into his brain to be someone of use to the people he cherished close to his heart. hearing what he and emcee went through from childhood was enough to make anyone give up several times over—and here he was choosing to use himself as a pillar to uplift her at the cost himself over and over again. selflessness seemed to be coded within him.

so when she was able to branch out and fall in love… it had made him wary. the two of them had been practically conjoined by the hip. it made sense he wouldn't have warmed up to the idea immediately. the two of you had actually met that way—an embarrassing moment in time that ended with dropped papers, several spilled coffees, and emcee and her hunter-partner-turned-boyfriend xavier staring at the both of you with varying degrees of concern and amusement.

(‘your first meet was cute!’ is what she always says when you recall the memory with a little bit of embarrassment. the only cute (and hilarious) part was how close caleb looked to exploding out of sheer despair.)

now coming on a year of dating, you'd like to think you know your boyfriend well enough. turns out caleb will never stop surprising you with soft and tender moments of sincerity. and with the way he looks at you when you fall silent, you nearly forget why you're even badgering him in the first place.

shifting over to kneel on the couch beside him, you take his face in your hands and gently brush the pad of your thumb against his cheek. he leans into the feeling as if starved, his eyes fluttering shut once more. long lashes settle over faintly freckled cheeks in a silent show of letting his walls down and bearing his weak side to you. and you appreciate it. you always will.

too bad it still wasn't an answer.

“caleb xia,” you murmur softly, the words hushed in the space between you both. his answering hum is just as light and a kiss is pressed to your fingertips. “i love you dearly, but if you don't answer me, i’m using your hard earned money to buy a robot to do our laundry.”

his eyes fly open immediately. shock, surprise, and—funnily enough—a hint of betrayal shine through his widened gaze. they then narrow as if to gauge how serious you were about a useless technological upgrade before ultimately sighing in defeat.

point to you. (emcee really wasn't lying about his aversion to robots.)

“i really just want to spend time with you,” he concedes, shaking his head when you narrow your eyes at his words. “is that a good enough answer? pips and co. are on an important mission that week, and i'm not going to ask her to cancel for me—”

you nod in agreement. as sad as it was, it was reasonable. sometimes plans couldn't be worked around.

“—even though i could, but—”

caleb makes an exaggerated punted sound when you shove his shoulder, his hands raising in mock surrender. “i won't. not because she won't let me, but because she'll make me see true hell if she finds out i'm the reason behind it.”

your exasperated expression makes him smile, leaning forward to caress your cheek. “so really. i don't want much. as long as you're here and she's safe, then i’m happy. so don't don't stress yourself out about it, okay?”

he pinches your cheek, already knowing you'd swat his hand away for it, intercepting and lacing your hands together. your heart flutters a bit.

“this isn't over,” you grumble, trying your best to stay mad at him. though with how bright his eyes shone when he looked at you, it was a difficult task to maintain. “watch your back.”

“aye, captain.”

you stress yourself out about it. naturally, of course.

could anyone blame you? you wanted his birthday to be perfect. it's the least you could do right by him, someone who refused your help mostly because he was stubborn, but mostly because he didn't want to feel like a burden. 

but you had plans. and you would see them through.

you ask him to meet you near the fleet’s landing pad a few hours in advance, wanting to surprise him right after work, complete with vague responses to his confused but otherwise curious inquiries. the sound of your shoes are muffled against the flooring. as you make your way into the headquarters, a little robot flits around your head in greeting.

“welcome to the farspace fleet’s headquarters, miss.”

once you finish signing in, you quickly make your way to the designated meeting spot. confused stares and murmurs waft over your head as you pass his fellow pilots and staff members alike, but you pay them no mind. you were only here for one person and one person alone–the very same who happened to have his back towards you, engrossed in a game on a small holographic screen. fondness coloring your expression for a few seconds, you quickly change it before clearing your throat.

“does the colonel usually spend his hours playing mini games all day? maybe you get a pass for today. it’s very special, after all.”

with the cold press of a drink against his cheek, caleb startles slightly before whirling around at the sound of your voice, the hologram swiped away with a quick movement of his hand. briefly surprised, his expression morphs into one of mirth, rubbing at his cheek where the soda previously touched skin.

“so that’s your first birthday surprise for me?” a scoff pairs itself with a teasing eye roll. “thank…”

his gaze drops lower, holding you at arms length, and his words trail off. your smile falters a bit nervously.

the outfit you were wearing wasn’t just any outfit. black boots, a collared shirt tucked into black pants, and a jacket bearing the insignia of the farspace fleet’s logo on its slightly padded shoulder revealed you dressed in a similar fashion to the man standing before you, even to the hat nestled comfortably atop your head. it had taken you a while to even round up most of the items you were wearing, down to the gloves that adorned your hands.

because every colonel needed their lieutenant, right?

caleb sputters out something akin to a laugh, frayed around the edges with disbelief. “where’d you even…”

“i had some help.” your voice trembles a bit, clearing your throat before grinning sheepishly. “not saying who. but, um. i wanted to get to know your world, too. so i hope this is okay.”

his prolonged silence makes you increasingly nervous. his expression is a bit unreadable underneath the brim of his hat, and the more he stares, the more you fidget. until he opens his mouth again.

“i don't like how everyone else is looking at you.”

the words make you freeze, watching in real time as the weight of his gaze intensifies. it's then do you tune in the rest of your surroundings again, hearing faint murmurs and parts of conversation. your eyes meet. his hands travel from your shoulders to take your hands in his.

“caleb—” you sputter out in disbelief, similar to his earlier reaction as a laugh lodges itself somewhere in your throat. of all things to say—

“you want to be second in command? you look the part, lieutenant.” for a brief moment a hint of amusement glints in his eyes. approval. a small shiver runs down your back. “doesn't mean i like people looking at what's mine.”

you blink and he's on your left, the palm of his right hand at your lower back warm even through your clothes. “you know i don't like to bring work home,” he drawls lowly as he begins to walk, causing you to walk as well. “seems home came to me instead. how do you figure.”

you peek at him as you approach his private plane. he looks so pleased. this is going far better than you thought it would, making you exhale quietly in relief.

“can't believe you're gonna make me fly on my birthday, though.” 

caleb pouts a bit as he leans into your space, adding on, “was looking forward getting home and burying my face between your —”

onlookers titter as you smack the farspace fleet’s colonel’s arm in shocked dismay with him grinning as he lets you. 

dinner in the skies wasn't an easy feat to plan. but with a boyfriend who loved you enough to go with your odd directions, after two hours of jetting over the skies of skyhaven, picking up orders from your favorite spots, and gaining access to an airborne movie theater, the private jet was nestled comfortably in the air.

“cruising altitude?”

“somethin’ comfortable,” caleb’s voice pipes up from the front of the plane.

“coordinates?”

“positioned exactly where you asked, baby.”

you look out of a window and come face to face with a beautiful sunset. yellow and orange bleed into pinks, blues, and sharp violets reminiscent of your lover’s eyes. the thought warms your heart with enough heat to rival the lowering sun.

arms encircle your waist from behind when you straighten up, squeezing gently before a weight presses himself against your back. his chin hooks over your shoulder like he'd always meant to be there. 

“if i'm looking through the window and you're here, who's flying the plane?” you tease lightly, but make no effort to remove his arms. 

something around the lines of autopilot is muffled into your collar. looking through the reflection in the glass, you can just make out the sight of caleb with his eyes closed in momentary bliss.

“did you like the movie?” you ask softly. “i had some help with that, too. she sends her birthday wishes and her present is waiting for you at home.”

caleb squeezes you a bit tighter, nosing along the line of your shoulder before his eyes flutter shut. “you didn't have to do this all this for me,” he mumbles just as quietly. his brows furrow as an unreadable expression crosses his face. “but i love it. love you. thank you, baby.”

your own eyes flutter shut briefly when he kisses your cheek in thanks, the gesture sweet and loving. but his kisses move from your cheek to your jawline as his hands slowly begin to wander, a gasp leaving your throat when he gently tugs your tie loose to move your collar out of the way.

“can't believe you played dress up for my birthday. aren't i lucky?” your collar finally loosens enough for him to kiss right where your neck and shoulder meet, smiling against your skin when you shiver. “tell me who helped you put it together so i can fire them for insubordination.”

“wha—why?” you can barely think as his hands run through the buttons of your collared shirt, your jacket discarded somewhere on the aircraft. “don't fire anyone, shit—”

“it's my birthday.” his voice lowers with toying calmness to it as hands find skin, making you hiss upon contact. “i can wish for whatever i want for the next few hours. and the colonel,”

his lips brush just shy of your ear, nearly tipping the hat off your head. “wants his second in command out of her clothes. can she do that f’me?”

was the sky blue?

you don't remember how the two of you got home that night, let alone how caleb managed to land the plane without crashing into one of the city's many towering skyscrapers. all you can feel right now is the cold surface of the door through your shirt’s thin material before caleb surges forward to kiss you like he'd die if he spent another second away from you.

“you have no idea how much i wanted to rip this thing off you when i first saw it.” 

a hoarse laugh rips from his throat the second he pulls away from your lips, trembling hands sliding down the outline of your body. his gaze is reverent. hungry. you feel pinned to the surface and he's barely even touched you.

“really?”

“got hard immediately. that's why we left so soon.” and despite the heat between the both of you, he still makes you laugh, giggling as you push at his chest a bit. “what? honesty is the best policy ‘n all that.”

your tie comes off first, finally. the buttons you'd hastingly redone after just barely keeping his hands off of you aboard the plane fly off in different directions next as his frustrations build up. and when the material pools at your arms, he freezes again.

you duck your head shyly, the brim of your hat casting a shadow over your face. “surprise…”

black lace comes into view, sprawling over your chest and barely peeking underneath your pants. caleb stares.

“just one surprise after another.” he exhales through his nose, a gloved hand settling on your bare waist. “the perfect gift that keeps on giving. look at you.”

you can't discern whether or not he looks tormented from self preservation or the last fraying nerve desperately trying to hold itself together for his sanity’s sake. but the moment you shrug your shirt off and take a daring step forward into his space, you watch in real time as the last thread of his patience snaps in two.

with barely a grunt in sound, the floor gives as caleb hauls you over his shoulder to march towards your bedroom. pieces of your uniform lay discarded to form a path straight towards the plush mattress where caleb lays you down gently—but his eyes are anything but. darkened violet betrays the intense amount of arousal surely swirling through his head as he gets down on his knees before you.

“ah—wait, caleb—” your voice is already shot as he spreads your legs open, his nose brushing against the flimsy lace barely covering anything in between. his lips begin to part before he registers the calling of his name, his eyes flicking upwards. “i f-forgot to show you the cake–nghh—”

he licks a bold stripe against your covered core right as the last of your words tumble out of your mouth, large hands pressing your legs open as they begin to tremble. the sudden heat makes you flinch, reaching out to push at his shoulders with shaking fingers.

“you don't wanna eat the cake first—? we can—”

a faint snap! against your skin makes you jump, looking down to see his fingers toying with the band of your underwear. warmth spreads like fire across the surface of your skin. 

“can i take these off?”

huh? “caleb, the cake—”

“can i take these off?” he repeats slowly, his gaze dropping back down. “we’ll get to the cake later. wanna finish unwrapping my present.”

you lamely let your hand drop back to your side, nodding after a moment. “okay,” you mumble. “you… you can take them off.”

you lift your legs in preparation, fully expecting them to be slid down and tossed somewhere behind them. but a loud rip echoes in the room instead, and before you can even register what he'd done, his mouth finds your clit and latches on brazenly.

your trembling arms finally give out as you keen in surprise. the only thing preventing your thighs from framing his head is the strong grip keeping them apart. the mattress is soft against your back as your hands find purchase in the sheets and tug. small whimpers and moans leave your lips but it's nothing in comparison to how debauched he sounds. labored breathing and low moans paired with the growing wetness of his mouth against your most sensitive parts. 

you look down when a sharp feeling in your lower stomach begins to coil tightly, tears budding in the corner of your eyes as you part your lips to tell him such. but the sight you're met with sends yet another wave of heat down your back.

his face flushed red, his brows furrowed above eyes fluttered shut. the tips of his ears are bright red, and you know if you brush your fingers along the outer part, they'd be warm to the touch. what makes your heart stutter in your chest however, is the begging. and you barely even hear it at first.

“please… please, mmnnf please—” words slurred together between your legs, unintelligible and rushed. he tugs you further against his mouth, unwilling to let you go. all you hear is wet. “cum on m’face. please? pretty please? f’me?”

heat coils tighter and tighter until it becomes unbearable. your hands move from the rumpled sheets to his shoulder, momentary loss of mind making him forget to take his jacket off, but his shoulders don't budge against the sudden onslaught your hands bring. your voice pitches higher and higher, scrambling to grasp anything to hold until they push his hat off to find purchase in his hair and tug.

his answering moan, loud and unashamed, is your undoing. your orgasm crashing into you with the speed on a freight train, your back bowing taut and off the bed as your voice cracks on the near yell you let out. and caleb is unrelenting, slick sounds of him taking in every last drop of your essence dripping down your thighs and running down his chin. 

“that's it,” he breathes out, eyeing the way your thighs tremble as your hole clenches around nothing. without much hesitation, he licks another bold path on your thigh, grinning when you shriek in surprise. “what a sight for sore eyes. think you can sit on my face?”

you can barely lift your head up to stare at him in disbelief, your chest heaving as the toll of your orgasm rushes to your head. he blinks back almost innocently, his cheek pressed against your inner thigh. “pretty please?”

your head drops back down to the sheets. “you'll have to move me,” you say weakly. “i'm out of commission.”

his laugh is low in sound and it makes you shiver. he presses a kiss to your hip bone and immediately gets to work. mouth still wet, he pulls his gloves off with his teeth before gently maneuvering you to a dry spot before hauling himself atop the sheets as well. it takes a moment, limbs reduced to jelly, but before long your thighs frame his face once again.

you watch in real time as his gaze darkens at the angle change, his hands smoothing down your hips. “will never get tired of you looking at you,” he murmurs, turning his head to press a kiss to your knee. your body trembles in response, hands gripping at the headboard. “prettiest thing i've ever seen.”

“preparing for landing,” your voice cracks on the joke. caleb smiles, his thumbs smoothing shapes crossed your skin. up and down, almost v-shaped.

hearts. he was drawing hearts on your skin. your lower lip trembles when you realize.

oh how he loved you.

“least now i know you were really paying attention when i was talking.” his smile turns a bit sharp. hungry again. “land her on me. c’mon.”

slowly, with encouraging words and guiding hands, you lower yourself above his mouth. he releases a breath into the silence chalked tense with arousal once more. you look down to see his vision go hazy with want. and then he inhales sharply.

the sound makes you jolt, mortified at his sudden action, and before you can even choke out the first syllable of his name, he yanks your hips the rest of the way down. his tongue immediately gets to work swirling pointed circles around your clit, the pleasure skyrocketing high enough for you to immediately forget what you were about to say.

the first word you manage to blurt out is a curse, rolling your hips forward to chase the high you so desperately wanted now that shame had been discarded once again. “f-fuck—caleb, caleb—”

his nose catches on your clit and you scream, gripping the headboard so hard it hurts. he shows no sign of relenting, not even when your second orgasm ripples through your body. all he does is moan, the sound grateful.

two orgasms in less than ten minutes. at this rate, you'd be dead weight come morning.

trying to give his neck reprieve, you slowly begin to lift yourself up, clinging to the headboard. caleb immediately begins to complain, panting through slurred words. “where’re you goin’? ‘m not finished… ‘m not—fuck, come back? please?”

he blinks rapidly, adjusting back to the dim lighting. his hair is tugged in all sorts of directions from your frenzied grip, his face wet from the nose down and flushed red down to his neck. yet his brows remained furrowed with determination.

his hands reach for your hips again, gently trying to coax you back down. “i'll make you feel real good, y’know that right? prettiest present i've ever gotten. perfect… she's perfect, you're perfect, and you're all mine…”

you bite your lower lip, shifting above him. it draws his attention like a magnet and you let out another mortified sound, opting to move and sit on his lap instead.

big mistake.

caleb lets out a sharp hiss the moment you do, immediately tightening his grip on your waist. “don't move.” you take in his increasingly reddened appearance and pause, two things suddenly dawning on you.

one, caleb was still dressed. and two, the hard mass currently twitching underneath you was the reason why he'd tensed so quickly after you'd sat down. you rock your hips experimentally and get a slew of curses in response.

“or do,” he manages to wheeze out. he lowers his head for a moment. “jesus. don't wanna cum anywhere but inside of you, so if you would be so kind—”

your hips buck up once again and he whines. “you're playing dirty,” caleb hissed lowly, his expression pinched. it spurs you to action.

“can i let you in on a secret?” 

caleb eyes you with equal parts interest and weariness as the palms of your hands rest on his shoulders. “i've always thought you looked good in uniform,” you admit sheepishly, smiling faintly when he lets out a snort. “i’m serious! it's… i don't know. whatever they say about men in uniform.”

“that's real cute of you,” he drawls slowly, leaning back to look at all of you. “considering you're leaking all over it.”

the two of you look down to see a dark patch between your legs right where the outline of him is more than visible. the sight only heightens the arousal between the two of you, and that's when he decidedly has enough.

“here's what's going to happen.” 

he pats your side for you to lift your hips, groaning at the sight of slick sticking to the fabric. pearly whites sinking into his lower lip, the sound of his belt unbuckling masks the sound of your mingled breaths as his hand tugs and pulls at the material with budding annoyance.

“let me help.” your hands settle over his, tugging the leather out of the loop. the sound of his zipper is loud. his chest rises and falls the more your hands graze where he needs relief the most. “okay?”

“mhm.” his brows pinch together again, half-lidded gaze trained on your hands. “okay. okay. haah—just—mmnplease, take it out.” 

his rigid posture screams hurry. you slide your hand between skin and soft cotton and his head thunks against the headboard.

“caleb?!”

groaning, his hips buck into your hand. “‘m fine,” he sniffles, letting out a breath. “no, ‘m not. i dunno. can i fuck you already?”

you blink at him, taken aback as you sputter out, “are you concussed —?” your hand moves to pull out of his pants and he lets out a sound akin to a kicked puppy. “sorry—but that sounded pretty bad, i should look at—”

you're yanked back down, seated right on top of his cock again. it makes him curse once more. “can i make one last wish?” he doesn't wait for you to nod. “i'll let you in on a secret of my own. i've been dreaming about fucking you until either one of us cried.”

now you gape at him. he stares right back.

“with you on top, like this.” his breathing picks up, getting off on his own words. “ridin’ me. like you owned me. you do. you do. think about it all the time. and…”

he pats around for a moment, shushing your sound of confusion. his arms lift above your head and something a little bigger than form fitting settles on your head. when he pulls back, you swear his cock twitches a mile underneath you.

“yeah. yeah—even better than i imagined. fuck me.” 

he straightens the brim, tilting your head towards him. “my last wish,” he murmurs, “is watching you take my cock while wearin’ this. any objections, captain?”

oh.

a weird sense of exhilaration flows through you at his sudden address, emboldened by the slightest shift in power dynamic. your hand travels further into his pants, your grip unforgiving as his head falls back in faint relief. “no objections. but i do have one request.”

“ye–aah, baby?” breathless, he forces himself to watch through gritted teeth as you finally free his cock, letting out a sigh of relief. “what is it? what?”

“just something i wanted confirmation on from earlier.” your hand wraps around the girth of him, causing him to shudder. “i just think it's so interesting how much you know about planes. it's cute. but i don't remember if it was the f-22 or f-15 that was the fastest…”

you can tell he really wants to answer. but right as he opens his mouth, your grip tightens before slowly beginning to apply pressure as you stroke. caleb chokes, hips bucking up into your hand.

“it's the-the 15,” he answers quickly, groaning lowly. “it's b-built for mach 2.5 speed and—ohh fuck—designed for co–oh god, go faster, please.”

you stop instead and he flinches. “wha—no, nononono, c’mon—”

“designed for what? you didn't finish.”

caleb looks like he's about to burst, silently weighing his options before clearing his throat. “...designed primarily for air-to-air combat.”

“good to know.” the soft smile you give him gets you a weak one in return. “what else?”

his smile falls. your hand squeezes around him once more and he emits a broken sound. “fuck, okay, okay. c-compared to the f-22, which was designed for—shit, f-for stealth over aerodynamics and flies at—at mach 2.25 speed.”

his hips begin shifting again, chasing the warm heat of your palm, beginning to ramble and trip over his own words. “they both can, mnngh reach altitudes of over 60,000 feet or more making th-them perfect options for important operations. fuckfuckfuck—but they're not used for just combat, they can be used for training, search and rescue, and—god, that's so good.”

your fist is covered in precum, making it easier to slide over his cock at an increasing speed that makes him tremble. his mouth opens and closes over butchered attempts at words, face as red as his angry tip. 

“such a mess. not the only one leaking over your uniform anymore, right?”

“wanna cum.” he blurts out, his grips in the sheets white knuckled. “b-but inside. please? wanna fuck you so bad pleasepleaseee i—”

he groans when your fist works even faster, weak hands pushing at your own. “baby–baby no, fuck, inside—insi—oh fuck—”

caleb makes a sound between a disbelieving laugh and a moan as he resigns himself to your whims, chin dropping to his chest as his hips stutter once, twice, three times before coating your hand opaque white. stuttered breaths fill the air before an idea pops into your head.

you bring your stained hand up to his mouth. he blinks at first, surprise adding to the red flushing his face, but after a moment he leans forward to lick out of your hand painted white. desire strikes hot and heavy in your stomach as you maintain heavy eye contact, his tongue swirling over each individual finger. it doesn't take much for him to get hard again.

“did i pass?” he releases a breath, staring at the way your hips shift above him. “wanna be inside you now. you can keep quizzing me later. please.”

his eagerness spurs you into movement, letting out a small laugh of your own when his evol lifts you in the air as he searches for a condom. “been dreamin' about this for months and it's finally happening—you don't get to make fun of me if i cum in like three seconds when it's in all the way.”

your laughter grows in volume when you settle in his lap again, subject to his sudden onslaught of kisses. his nose bumps against yours in a silent moment of sweetness. his awkwardness with the condom eases your nerves a little bit, clumsily helping him stretch the latex over his cock. 

“would never.” your hand pushes his chest so his back is flat against the sheets, straightening up on your knees and using your free hand to position him right against your heat. “we take care of each other. it's okay if you do.”

caleb takes the hand placed near his heart and presses a kiss to your palm. an unspoken thank you resonates through the gentle action.

“ready?” he breathes out, his gaze trained on your face. “i know i've been… needy—”

“understatement.” the teasing lilt to your voice earns you a pinch to your side. it makes you bat at his hand with a grin, “sorry, continue.”

“but, if you want to back out, i don't mind going down on you again and we can do this another time. at the expense of heroically suffering through blue balls for however long it takes.”

you roll your eyes fondly, squeezing his hand. “you're very sweet, but i intend on fulfilling your birthday wish. besides… i want this, too.”

your hips lower as if to prove your point, the tip of his cock brushing against your entrance before pushing in. caleb’s immediate moan makes you clench around him, his hands flying to your hips to help guide you down.

“all of it,” he murmurs as if entranced by the sight of you taking him in, thumbs rubbing soothing circles against your skin. “takin’ me so well already.”

you don't expect to feel so full the more you slowly skin down, breathing through the stretch. whimpers fall from your lips without warning, biting your lower lip when he shifts his hips and you slip down even further. his praise is nonstop the entire time, more ramble than coherent words.

“feels so good around me. so pretty on top of me, yeah? doin’ so well, you're almost there. and then it'll feel so much better, okay?”

“caleb—”

“i know.” his voice is sweet. cooing, almost. “i know, baby. it's taking all me not to go all the way in just like that. but you can take it. i know you can. right?”

your head is nodding before you can even register his words, wiggling your hips before sliding down a bit more. “yeah. mhm—so big. can feel it in—”

you slide all the way down when he squeezes your hips, letting out a surprised squeak. ass flush against his thighs, caleb’s voice drops an octave lower when your walls flutter around him sporadically.

“see? you're—shit—doing so well. took it all just like you said you would. fuck.” his pupils dilate at the sight, sighing with pleasure as one hand moves to press against your stomach, long fingers spreading across your skin. “can feel me right… here.”

and as if a switch turns on in your brain, you begin to move in slow circles, breath catching at the fleeting sparks of pleasure. his hands settle on your hips to hold, fully letting you take control of both of your pleasures. with every sound you pull from him, every moan and sharp exhale of your name, your moves begin to grow bolder, walls clenching at each time you land back down in his lap.

“feels so good.” you pant lowly, the sound of skin slowly beginning to fill the room. the drag of his cock hitting deep inside you elicits a sweet sound from your throat that has him responding with a needier one of his own. “do you—does it feel—ohmygod—”

the sound between your legs is near sinful, wet squelches from the slippery glide turning easier the more you lift your hips. and all caleb can do is watch in awe as your head falls back with pleasure before you can even finish your sentence, committing the sight to memory as he begins to ramble once more.

“i'm the luckiest man to ever—ever walk the planet.” he begins to rub frantic circles on your clit, stuttering when you cry out and squeeze around his cock. “gettin’ to s-see this, to see you like this. fuck, thank you, thank you—take it, take it, it's yours. ‘m yours, always have been—”

unable to help himself, his hips start to meet your own in mindless thrusts, making you jolt and look down in surprise. “caleb—? ca—ahh, wait—”

his entire body trembles from the intense pleasure, his thrusts speeding up now that he's gotten to feel you. “can't—i can't, ‘m sorry, you're squeezin’ me so tight, feels like i can't breathe. gotta move, ‘msorrysosorry, angel—”

his hips slam against yours, wet and sticky with sweet and slick, his thumb still pressed firmly against your clit. the pressure makes you squeeze and flutter around him, drawing out more and more moans from your chest.

“your voice is so pretty, did you know? keep—fucking—singing for me. want everyone to know how good you're taking me.”

your entire body flushes with heat, skin prickling at his vulgar expression. but your body responds with short bursts of sounds pulled from your throat despite your best efforts, jolted whines and gasps filling the air. as a familiar heat coils in your stomach again, caleb’s thrusts also get sloppier.

“you're almost there—can feel it. sucking me in even more.” he sucks in a breath, brows furrowed slightly. “could stay buried in this pussy forever. and you'd let me, right? let me fuck load after load inside you, painting the prettiest picutre of you covered in my cum. full of me, about to burst. maybe even—maybe—”

your head lolls to one side, eyes half lidded as the brunt of caleb’s pussy drunk babbling and fantasies hit you full force. he'd made sure to use a condom before he fucked you, but the thought that maybe he… maybe one day, you'd let him fuck you raw. to really feel him inside of you without the protective barrier of latex. the thought makes your hips jerk, hands scrambling for anything to hold on to as the pleasure heightens.

caleb surges up to claim your lips in a bruising kiss, teeth clashing as your nails dig into his shoulders. his lips travel to your neck, the scrape of teeth causing the both of you to groan in unison. the sharp feeling of pain and pleasure mix into something indescribable, both of you hurtling towards a shared high.

“i love you,” he pants against your shoulder before whimpering low in his throat. “love you so much. best birthday ever. could die right now as the ha—ahh—ppiest i've ever been. ‘m gonna give it to you right now. say you love me and i'll let you cum.”

your lips part around a whine almost immediately. “i love you, i love you, pleasepleaseplease, caleb—!”

“sound so pretty when you say my name.” he presses a kiss to your jaw, nosing into your neck as his thumb doesn't let up on your clit. “go ahead and cum right… now.”

the pleasure is instantaneous. the coil snaps and heat rushes to your abdomen as your voice cracks on a hoarse moan, creaming all over his cock. your nails dig into his back, tears budding in the corner of your eyes as your orgasm rocks your entire body. 

caleb isn't too far behind, spurred on by the sharp tug of his hair when he nips at your shoulder. a sharp gasp is all you get in warning before he pulses inside of you, shuddering apart in your arms before he sags against your shoulder with a weak groan. 

closing your eyes to savor the haze post orgasm, you run your fingers through sweat slicked hair and press kisses to his forehead as he shivers and anchors your hips down.

“sensitive.” he mumbles against your shoulder. “don't move.”

“least you didn't cum early.” caleb lets out a low groan and you laugh, petting his head. “proud of you.”

“yeah, yeah.” he grouches through the brief showing of a smile, closing his eyes. “it's still my birthday so you're not allowed to make fun of me.”

“mm, is that right?”

caleb huffs, amping up the theatrics, refusing to calm down until you cup his face and silence him with a kiss. only then does he settle down enough for you to wish him a happy birthday with an even sweeter kiss, lifting your hips up to settle down in the rumpled sheets as he disposes of the condom. exhaustion hits your body even harder than after your first orgasm, nearly half asleep when he comes back with a damn cloth to wipe away the sweat and cum from your thighs.

“i love you,” he whispers against your skin when he settles back into bed besides you, wrapping his arms around your waist and drawing you close. “we’ll get to the cake and presents tomorrow. thank you for everything you did today, baby. i loved it and i love you so, so much.”

three squeezes to your linked fingers is your response before you fall asleep in his arms. i love you, too.

[zepskies]

I'VE GOT YOU

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Summary: Being pregnant with a supe’s baby isn’t easy, even the second time around. The good news is your husband is all too willing to help you relieve a certain craving.

AN: This one was originally released on Mother’s Day, so if you're a mom, this one's for you! 💗💗 Before writing this I rewatched the episode of Friends where Rachel is at the horny AF phase of her pregnancy. 😂

This little one-shot is set after Calculated Risks, so we also get more of Lila, Ben and the reader’s daughter! By now, she’s about five years old, and the reader is pregnant with her second child: Ben’s first boy! You all know he's been waiting for this one lol. 💚

Word Count: 3.4K

Posted on Patreon: 5/11/2025

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Father-daughter fluff, pregnancy fluff, married couple bickering, and some married couple smut. Domestic feels and happy endings all around 😉

💚 Break Me Down Masterlist

Frank pulled the car up through both security gates, tires rolling smoothly up the curve of the paved driveway. When the black Ford Escape finally stopped at the front of the house, Ben subtly breathed out his relief.

The Spanish Colonial-style home was more modest than he had wanted for his growing family. You had been firm on just two floors, a pool, and the double garage. But it was a welcome sight after almost a week in Wisconsin, of all places.

The mission had been to gather intel on some old Vought lab that Stan Edgar’s cohorts had tried to keep hidden, one where V24 was still being made like a high-tech meth lab, with twice the exploding power.

Closing the lab indefinitely had been an easy job. Blowing up a powder keg was relatively simple when Ben himself carried the world’s biggest match, conveniently stored in his chest cavity. But he was reminded why he hated the Midwest. A dusty fucking snooze fest.

And if he ever heard another one of Hughie’s stupid fucking cheese jokes, it would be too damn soon.

He was all too ready—as he was after every field trip with Butcher and his band of merry assholes—to come home to you and Lila. His wife and his kid. That was really all he needed these days.

Christ. He almost shook his head at the thought, after getting out of the SUV. As Frank drove off and Ben unlocked the security passcode to the front door, he had to wonder when he’d gotten so goddamn soft.

“Daddyyyyyyy!”

Before he could even fully raise his head, Ben had his arms full of his little girl. Five years old, and Lila was looking more and more like her mother every day—bright-eyed and beautiful, even with that gap-tooth smile. But he saw just as much of himself there in her hair just a little darker than his, her eyes a little more hazel than green, and a small scatter of freckles across the bridge of her nose, with a couple more dotting her cheek. He hoped she didn’t grow out of them.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Ben greeted, unable to temper his smile. He pressed a kiss to her cheek and she giggled at its slight roughness, thanks to his beard. “You been good for your mom?”

You were coming around the corner, from the kitchen if he had to guess. You set down the remains of a cheese and salami plate on the mahogany credenza in the hall.

“Sometimes,” you wryly answered for your daughter, “but maybe she’ll calm it down a few notches now that Dad’s home.” 

He watched your slightly waddling gait with an amused grin. At six months, you were at the cusp of your third trimester. Ben swung Lila over onto one hip and reached out for you as you came into his orbit, smoothing a hand along the swell of your belly before his arm wrapped around your waist and gathered you to him. You held onto his arm in turn.

“Hey,” you said, smiling into the narrow space between your face and his. He welcomed himself home when he bowed his head for a kiss.

Lila squealed and buried her face in her father’s neck, as if she was witnessing a crime. You couldn’t help laughing, but you stayed in his arms even after breaking from his lips, resting your head against his chest.

In some ways, the separation when he went on missions with the team was good. It allowed Ben to work out some of the more intense energy he couldn’t always release at home, and it was no secret that you and your husband could butt heads over almost anything—from who didn’t replace the bag after taking out the trash, to just how long you were going to continue working from home for Supe Affairs before your son was born (albeit with your mom’s help in taking care of Lila).

Sometimes you and Ben just needed the break from breathing in each other’s general direction…and then finding something about it to bicker over.

“Jesus, you sound like a moose sometimes. Would you close your mouth?”

“How about you leave me alone, huh? I just worked out in the basement, and it’s fucking stuffy down there.”

“That’s because you still haven’t changed the air filter like I asked you three weeks ago.”

“Christ on a cross, enough with the damn filter! It’s fucking fine. I changed it last month.”

“No, honey, that was the vacuum filter. And you didn’t do anything. You held the garbage bag while I shook out three pounds of dust and pet hair.”

“You’re the one who wanted the fucking cat!”

“No, your daughter begged—”

Anyway.

Right now, you were fighting the (hormonal) sting of tears in your eyes. You breathed through it, grounding yourself in Ben’s solid frame and the familiarity of his arms. You rested your cheek against his chest, feeling his warmth through the smooth fabric of his sweater.

He noticed the way you held onto him a bit tighter. His brows raised, but he bent his head to brush his lips against your temple.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” your voice was thick when you answered, though you nodded quickly. “Just…missed this.”

Missed you.

You couldn’t see the way he smiled. He rubbed your back, while Lila tangled her little fists in his hair and continued to cling to his neck. Still, his entire world was right here in this room.

“Why did Mr. Cheese go broke?” Ben posed the question to his daughter that evening, after dinner and a family movie in the living room. He’d pretended to suffer through yet another rewatch of The Lion King, but he’d begrudgingly admitted it was good, for a cartoon.

Slowly, painfully slowly, the three of you were going upstairs. Lila was once again in his arms. This time she stretched herself out dramatically like a starfish and expected him to carry her like that up to her bedroom. He did so with a roll of his eyes, but he also had a supportive hand on the small of your back while you made your way up ahead of him.

You held onto the guard rail as you went. Your other hand braced your belly. Occasionally you huffed and puffed, but you were determined to get up these goddamn stairs and to your bed like a normal human.

“Ummm I dunno, why?” Lila replied to her father.

Ben’s lips twitched at a smirk. “He had too many runny asses in Wisconsin.”

Lila bit her lip, but a giggle poured through and shook her whole body. Ben curled his arm upward to hold her more securely, so she wouldn’t smack her head on the stairs. You rolled your eyes, your lips hinting at a smile.

Still, you chided him. “Ben.”

“What? Blame the co…” He cleared his throat at your sharp eye, glancing down at his daughter. “Blame Hughie. He wouldn’t shut up with that shit.”

“You said another bad word, Daddy,” Lila said, in that know-it-all tone she’d gotten into.

Sharp as a tack, this one, Ben thought wryly. If you weren’t a foot away, he wouldn’t care all that much what came out of his mouth. By now his daughter had heard plenty in his presence, or whenever she hung out with her “uncles,” Frank and Loco. But by the way you were looking back at Ben, raising your brows in a not-so-subtle challenge, he knew it wasn’t worth the headache.

“Yeah well, add it to my tab,” he said. He wrangled Lila up higher in his arms and swung her halfway over his shoulder. She screeched and giggled and clung to his back. Ben smirked at the resigned look on your face, but he urged you the rest of the way up the stairs with a playful smack of your ass. "Come on, let's go. We've been here for twenty years already."

"Oh, I don't wanna hear that from you," you shot back with a laugh. "I'm carring the equivalent of a watermelon here."

Ben just rolled his eyes, despite his smile.

Once you reached the top, you both went over to Lila’s room, first door on the right. The orange and white tabby cat, Simba, was already sleeping curled up on her bed as if he was waiting for her. Ben would still rather get a dog. He'd told you more than once.

"Something butch. And reliable," he said, while shoveling Cheetos into his mouth from his reclined state on the living room sofa. "Like a German Shepherd or a Great Dane. Not this lazy fucking Garfield. I mean, what's this thing good for? Whining and scratching my leg all the time for more kibble."

"He just wants you to pet him, babe."

"Damn needy," he muttered, all while the cat was purring, curled up in the crook of his arm while he watched the latest Giants game. Ben scratched Simba's cheek absently.

You shook your head with a smile and went back to work in your office. You only came out to the living room to ask your dear husband to turn down the damn TV.

“Okay, why did Mr. Cheese cross the road?” you offered. 

“I don’t know, why?” Lila asked, playing along.

“To get to the other slice, of course!” you said with a smile.

Ben set Lila down on her feet, and the two shared a similar look. Unimpressed. At least your daughter had the decency to try and hide it.

Your lips pursed, but then you waved a dismissive hand and sighed. 

“Okay, time for bed,” you said.

You and Ben tucked her in together that night. She was tired enough that she didn’t demand a story this time, for which he counted it as a small blessing. All he wanted to do was strip down and relax in bed with his wife, maybe catch up on his episodes of Deadliest Catch. He’d just have to ignore your teasing that he’d never once went fishing in his life, and likely never would, despite now owning an arsenal of extremely expensive fishing rods.

He ventured down the long hall over to the master bedroom, where you began to change into your nightgown while trying not to sulk.

“She used to think I was funny,” you complained.

“She’s developing a sense of humor. You should be proud,” Ben replied with a smirk.

You swatted him on the ass for that one, making him chuckle as you passed by. He hooked a hand on your arm and carefully guided you back to him, into the cage of his arms.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, sweetheart,” he warned.

In his eyes, you read a familiar spark of desire as they roamed over your deep green, silky maternity gown—a baby shower gift from Annie. But he tempered the spark behind a chaste kiss, more tame than usual for the past few weeks. You merely smiled against his lips, stroking his bearded cheek. Inside, you bubbled with a trill of nerves and arousal all at once.

Your second pregnancy had thus far been more tumultuous than your first one. It was similar in that you were experiencing intermitted bouts of super strength, but your hormones had been going haywire, leaving you with bouts of morning, night, and day sickness, breasts tender to the point of painful, and almost no position comfortable enough for you to lay down and rest your aching back.

Ben knew it full well and had been getting an earful of your pregnancy woes for the past couple of months (not to mention, your accusing side-eye). Weirdly, the constant shitty feeling of being rundown and on the verge of puking had begun to ease up when he was gone this past week…shifting into a different mode of insanely hormonal.

As in, bouts of severe horniness. You’d even had to consult the second drawer of your nightstand for some relief.

But now, you grabbed a fistful of Ben’s shirt and brought him down to you for another kiss. This time you led him deeper, luring him with your sensuous tongue slipping into his mouth. A groan of approval caught in the back of his throat, even though his brows furrowed in slight confusion.

“What’s all this?” he asked, his voice rougher, but still teasing as he squeezed your waist. “You done puking day and night, complaining about my dick and balls being the reason you can’t fit into your jeans?”

His lips brushed along your jawline, a tantalizing sensation, even though you could feel his smirk. You rolled your eyes.

“Charming,” you said flatly. “Just for that, I should leave you to stroke your blue balls for another night.”

Ben chuckled, but he also called your bluff, beginning to graze down your neck, his tongue flicking along the shell of your ear. You shuddered at the pleasurable zing of sensation, unconsciously leaning against him.

“Seriously, you feeling good?” he asked.

You felt the hesitation in his lips, which pressed a real kiss in the juncture between your neck and shoulder. You smiled.

“Maybe,” you said teasingly. “And I might be craving more than oatmeal cream pies and Thai chili peppers this time.”

He snorted. “Thank fuck for small favors.”

You giggled, dragging your nails up and down his back through his shirt. You felt the suspect twitch in his muscles in response. So you slipped your hands back to his chest and gently pushed him backward. He raised his brows and took a step back, then another, until you could guide him into sitting on the edge of the bed. You stepped in between his strong, widespread legs and held his face in your hands.

His own were already beginning to roam down to your hips, giving them a nice firm squeeze. It felt so nice to be touched. It felt like every part of your body was waiting to feel something, wanting to feel good. You desperately needed him to touch you…

“But,” you said, holding a finger over his lips. “Um…I need you to go slow. Be careful.”

Ben’s brows furrowed. Did you really think he'd be too rough with you?

“We fucked plenty of times the first go around. Can't say I remember any incident.”

Your lips twitched at a smile. “Yes, but…I don’t know. I’m feeling more sensitive this time. I’m not sure what’s gonna feel good, what might be too much.”

Ben actually paused. He saw where you were coming from. It just irked him that you felt you had to warn him. He could see the concern and hesitance in your face, like you weren't sure if he could do what you were asking.

“Sweetheart,” he shook his head and pulled you closer, until your belly was nestled warm against his chest. His hands spanned your hips, large and strong, but only enough to feel secure. Grounding. “You think I don’t know how to take care of you, even now?”

Your breath hitched at the depths of his voice, the rumble of it going straight between your legs. He slipped his hands under the nightgown and kneaded the bare flesh of your thighs, somehow both firm and careful.

“Turn around for me,” he said.

You smiled, raising a brow, but you followed his lead. His touch never left you while you turned in his arms and let him slip your nightgown off. He tossed it to the side along with his shirt and pajama pants, then he guided you down to a seat on his muscled thighs. His movements were slow and calculated as he welcomed you back into his arms, brushing your hair back from your face and away from your neck. He nodded up at the dresser mirror straight ahead.

“Take a look, sweetheart,” he said. Meeting your eyes in the reflection there, he skimmed the back of his hand along your jawline. “Fucking beautiful. Now more than ever.”

Those words, he murmured into your skin. “Gonna give me a son. Then I’m gonna fuck another one into you, ‘til we got every fucking room in this house filled up.”

You laughed at that, despite the way your cheeks heated up at the gravel-laden promise.

“What’re you trying to do, assemble your own version of the Von Trapp family? Dress our kids up like Mormons and make ‘em sing songs?”

Ben chuckled. “Hey, they gotta earn their keep somehow. I’m the one who’s rich, not them.”

You wanted to point out, again, that it wasn't just his money, not to mention all the ways he was already spoiling your daughter rotten. But his teeth once again grazed your neck in a sharper nip, grabbing your attention. His tongue flicked along your earlobe, all while his fingers brushed the sides of your breasts and made your shaky breaths rise to meet him.

He cupped your breasts in his large hands and brushed his thumbs over each sensitive, hardened nipple. You let out a cross between a hum and a whine, arching into his touch and pressing back against his chest. You held onto his arms for a further sense of stability and security.

“You’ve been waiting for me, huh? I can tell. You’re all fucking locked up,” he murmured.

“Mhmm,” you agreed, breathless already, a delicious heat pooling in your center.

Eventually, he continued his exploration down the rest of your body, including the gentle swell of your stomach. He kissed down your shoulder, beginning to stroke the outside of your thighs back and forth. Steadily, he moved inward. His fingers became more grazing the closer he got to the apex of your sensitive inner thighs. A shiver ran down your spine.

You heaved a trembling breath. “Ben. Need you, baby.”

“I know,” he replied roughly, a contrast to his sensuous touch. “I fucking told you, I’ve got you. Just relax.”

He clasped his free hand to yours, steading you while his fingers began to tease your wet folds, slipping in between. He brushed and grazed a torturous back and forth. Until finally, two of his long fingers dipped inside your hot, weeping channel for a moment, before they moved back up, circling your clit.

Your breaths were coming out more raggedly now. You let go of his hand just to reach back and grasp at his hair. His fingers moved at just the right angle and you gasped, a delicious tendril of pleasure licking through your core. “Oh…fuck…mhmm…right there…”

Ben smirked. He knew. Because he knew every part of you, every angle that would have you shuddering, body contorting in bliss and pleasure. His favorite thing in the world, aside from being balls-deep inside your sweet pussy, was this. Playing you like a virtuoso, like a fucking First Chair violinist. He might change the notes, tease out different chords, but the end result was always the same—making you fucking sing for him.

While his fingers toyed with your clit, rolling the sensitive bud with firmer pressure, he spread your legs a bit wider with his knees and made more room for himself. Your hips rolled against his hand on reflex, chasing your release.

He used that to his advantage, grabbing your hip and guiding his cock into your throbbing heat in shallow thrusts. You both groaned at the feeling. Your hand tightened in his hair, nails scraping his scalp, surely threatening to rip out a few strands.

It only spurred him on. Ben worked you down over him as slowly as he could manage without busting prematurely at how fucking good you felt, wet and warm and already choking the head of his cock. He buried himself inside deeper and deeper while he stroked tight circles over your clit, until his cock was finally nestled in, filling you completely, hot and hard and perfect.

“Oh, fuck. Ben,” you whined. “Think I’m…”

Your core throbbed tightly around him for a few moments, making you shudder with pleasure. There he just held you to his chest for a minute, allowing you to catch your breath. You held onto his arms. You felt caged, but in the best of ways. You tipped your head back onto his shoulder, where his lips found your temple.

“How was that?” he asked, his voice deep and gravel rough.

“So good,” you nearly sobbed. You were pretty sure you came just then, with merely the feel of him fully seated inside you. You were brimming with pleasure…but it wasn’t just that.

Your heart felt so full for this man, it was nearly overwhelming. You grabbed his wrist and dropped a kiss onto his hand, his palm, and his still slightly wet fingers. He swept his thumb along your cheek in response.

“All right. Good,” he nodded, a bit breathless himself. He slowly smirked into your neck, self-satisfied and a hint devilish.

You smiled too when you caught him in the mirror. His hands returned to your hips and began helping you move, a rocking rhythm that led into his slow, purposeful thrusts. A new lance of pleasure curled up into your core, and a half-choked moan fell from your lips.

“Now the real fun begins,” Ben said. 

AN: 😘 All right, some fluffy family moments, some classic BMD bickering, and some fluffy married couple smut. I think we checked all the boxes here! lol Let me know if you guys still want to go back in time and see their wedding, because I have a fun idea for a twist – complete with another Supe Affairs mission with unintended consequences. 🫢

Until then, I've been working on soon to be future chapters of Breaking Point (Russell Shaw x Reader). After that, I'll be working on a series to continue 10 'Til Midnight (Professor!Dean Winchester x Grad Student!Reader). So stay tuned for those! 💚

But on June 1, we're finally getting to another SB series! Unravel Me: the prequel to Lost in Translation (Soldier Boy x Afro-Latina!Reader). 💜💙

Join My Patreon ⟡ Get early access to new stories, bonus content, and first looks at upcoming stories. Top-tier patrons can even send me requests!

⋆˙⟡ Get notified when more stories drop! Follow my fic library blog - @zepskieswrites - with notifications on. 💚

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[lazysoulwriter]

little clues in polish. - pedro pascal.

requested! thank you. ♡ content: pure fluff, soft launch fun, social media/fan speculation, teasing, affection, subtle intimacy.

---

It starts with a star.

Just one. A tiny, silver thing sitting on Pedro’s pinky nail, barely the size of a freckle. You almost miss it entirely until he slides into the booth beside you at the little diner your friends frequent post-premiere.

Your hand is on the table already, freshly manicured — a galaxy theme this time. Deep navy blue with scattered constellations, starbursts on every nail, some shimmer catching the light. He sees it, nudges your elbow, and grins when you finally catch the match.

“You noticed,” he says, like it’s nothing. Like his heart’s not beating wildly because he picked that little star with you in mind.

You smile. “It’s cute.”

He shrugs. “Felt right.”

And that’s how it begins.

No Instagram stories. No red carpet hand-holding. Just a trail of quiet matching details — fingerprints of affection only the two of you know to look for.

You start getting playful with it.

He shows up to a press junket with a thin line of gold wrapping the tip of his thumb — the same gold that outlines the marble design on your nails in a photo you'd posted earlier that day. Fans notice.

“Okay but why is Pedro’s nail giving the same vibes as [Y/N]’s???” “Matching... again?? Coincidence or coded??” “Is this… a nail soft launch?????”

Threads start popping up. Nail art theories. Timelines. People making little charts with circles and arrows, zooming in on blurry pap pics where you’re both walking five steps apart — but your nail colors are suspiciously complementary.

Pedro finds them one night while you're curled up on his couch, legs over his lap, popcorn between you. He scrolls through the fan theories, chuckling, eyes gleaming.

“They’re obsessed,” he says. “They think I’m trying to launch you like a Marvel movie.”

You snort. “Soft-launch you like a Sephora collab.”

He grins. “You are my favorite limited edition.”

He kisses you after that — slow, sweet. Like he doesn’t mind the build-up. Like he’s savoring the soft part before it gets loud.

The first time it gets close to loud is when you go to an awards afterparty. You’ve kept it lowkey, arriving separately. But you're both seated together inside, and your nails — well. There’s no denying it now.

You’re wearing pink. Pale, glossy, with tiny white hearts on every nail.

Pedro’s hand wraps around his drink, and there it is again — the same heart, tucked neatly onto his ring finger. A different base color, sure. Matte instead of glossy. But unmistakably a match.

The internet explodes.

You scroll through the tweets later with a giggle, curled into his chest. He watches you with that sleepy smile — like he’s been waiting for this moment. Like he’d match your nails a hundred more times if it meant he got to hold you like this.

“You know,” he says, pressing a kiss to your temple, “if they’re gonna analyze our hands so much, might as well give them something to really talk about.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”

He shrugs. “Thinking next set — matching and we post them. Together.”

You blink. “A full launch?”

He kisses your shoulder. “Let’s give ‘em a reason to finally stop guessing.”

---

✦ please do not copy, repost, or translate this work. © lazysoulwriter // i write with a lot of love and care, so please respect that.

[blood-smiles]

Ignore this if it makes you uncomfortable but how big are your yans peen peen (or like where does it reach i.e past their navel) I NEED TO KNOW

ARE YOU LAUGHING IN MY FACE? I AM NEVER UNCOMFORTABLE WITH THESE ASKS?? YOUR WISH IS MY COMMAND!! There are some who I haven’t wrote for yet but are definitely established..probably more to be coming

DICK HCS UNDER HERE!!

Alejandro (Yandere! Lawyer)

Veiny and pale, veins are slightly blue-green ish, matching with veins on his arms. Elegant, somehow. Has two moles on the top side, close to tip. Has a pink tip (FFB3BC). Very well groomed, shaved and smells good. Lets it peek from behind lingerie. Gets hard while picking out new sets to wear for you. Literally only gets hard for you. Soft: 7.2”. Hard: 8.1”

Yuuto (Yandere! Nurse)

Long, definitely smoother but has maybe one slightly visible vein on the side. Nuzzles into your palm funnily enough. Cute tip (F8C2B9). Piercings, has a Prince Albert. Shaved just in case you see him, although doesn’t really grow much hair anyway. Cum does NOT taste good (sad nurse noises). Gets huge boner when listening to your heartbeat recordings (STRICTLY). Soft: 7.4”. Hard: 8.3”

Marcelle (Yandere! Soldier)

Thick and on the heavier side. Is more girthy than long. Veins for days. Leans towards the left.  Is the most sensitive of all them freaks. Tidy enough, slightly lighter blonde hair going up his pelvic area in a bit of a happy trail. One of the only parts of his body that isn’t tanned. Freckles. Weirdly responsive. Tip color is (FFBFC1). Soft: 6.6” Hard: 7”

Juno (Yandere! Streamer)

Average. More of a shower than a grower. Light moles everywhere. Wear those slutty skirts and let it peek from under the lace. VIRGIN. Sopping wet, bro’s canoe is drooling as soon as he sees something slightly arousing . Hair is black like the roots peeking out from under his red hair on his head . Clean, very well shaved, keeps it tidy for you. Tip (F0C4B5). Soft: 5.7” Hard: 6”

Angelo (Yandere! Doll)

Honestly kinda weird. Length is adjustable. Has engraved lines around his pelvis so you can swap it out for a pussy. Has a single beauty mark on his hip. No hair at all because he is a doll so no pores. Will pierce himself if you want. Nods a lot. Gets a little flushed. Drools everywhere. Tip is a light color (FCDEDC). Soft: N/A. Hard: N/A

Lucien (Yandere! Angel)

Angelical just like him. Longer than thicker. Such soft skin. Absolutely no blemishes, no hair no nothing. Gorgeous. Curves upwards. Literally conforms to your every wish. Peaceful in some way. SO TWITCHY. so polite with it too. Gets love boners and has no idea what to do. Cum actually looks like pearly water. So sensitive too(hasn’t been touched since the earth was made). Virgin. Touches himself a lot. Tip is light and pretty (FFD5D9). Soft: (As you desire). Hard: (your every wish is granted).

Mikhail (Yandere! Model)

Actual model. Competes with Lucien in perfection. Very straight. Sometimes is so wet, precum literally dribbles down his thigh. A single vein on the bottom of his dick. If you just look at his face you can probably fool yourself into thinking he’s a girl. Is beautiful and soft to the touch. Grinds it gently against you in the mornings. So eager??? . Will walk naked in front of you just so you get a daily look. Literally competes with snow in regards of skin color. Single mole on base. has no hair at ALL(Would never let you see a single follicle). Blushes //>.<// . Tip is a pretty (FFD7E1). Soft: 6.0”. Hard: 6.6”

Susano (Yandere! Elf)

Second biggest. Very straight and pretty. Glitters slightly in the light. Rivals Angelo in cleanliness. Pretty heavy. Veins crawling up his pelvis. Cum tastes really good. Magical dih. Has white freckles and rune like markings. Shove your nail into his urethra and he will explode. Slaps against his stomach. Will put it in your hands as if it’s an offering. Rub himself against you when needy for attention. Gets extremely aroused when reading those 1800 ‘erotic’ books. Tip color is (B45A4A). Soft: 9.9”. Hard: 11”.

Briar (Yandere! Cow hybrid)

Absolute BEHEMOTH. Biggest dick on my whole roster. So heavy it won’t stand upright. Literally slouches against his thigh. Heavy enough you need both your hands and forearm power to lift it. Is the second most sensitive next to Marcelle. Doesn’t wear underwear intentionally just so you can see his dick print . Has love boners all the time and doesn’t even realize at times (it’s not his fault, he just gets such a dopamine boom when he sees you :c ). Humps your pillows while thinking of feeding you his meat or milk. Cries from pleasure. Has pretty patches of hypopigmentation(lack of melanin) on it. Tip (EAAA9E). Soft: 12.1” Hard: 13.5”

Dario (Yandere! Mortician)

Skinny ish. Has a Jacob’s ladder. Cum is tolerable. Surprisingly cums a lot and has good libido even though he looks anemic. Purple veins. Really excitable. Mushroom head. Has horse crops, you know what he uses them for already. Slutty underwear and you know it. Tip: (DAB0B0). Soft: 6.3”. Hard: 6.7”

Kairo (Yandere! Mad scientist)

Freckled. Nothing actually special. Above average. Consumes aphrodisiacs like candy. Black leather pants, need i say more?. Ginger with the slightest amount of hair, barely perceivable. Right curve. Tip color is (FFA6A6). Soft: 5.9”. Hard: 6.5”

Elio (Yandere! Nerd)

Cute ig. Definitely not intimidating. Stick cat ears onto it and like you have yourself a cute penis. The most virgin of them ALL. Extremely sensitive to vibrations or stimulation (if it’s coming from you). It’s still a good size though. Failed no nut November so many times it’s actually scary. Tip is one of the pinkest in my opinion (FDD4E2). Shaves only if he knows you are going to see him. Is physically ,genetically and spiritually incapable of forming a happy trail. Soft: 6”. Hard: 6.2”

Eden (Yandere! Bloodbag)

Its definitely pretty . gets all happy when it senses you. has a little bit of a bush. a single mole under his dick. virgin. likes getting gently bitten by you. his tip is slightly darker than his skin (C28762) . you know he gets sopping wet when horny, so much so that he gets the crotch of his underwear wet. Soft: 6.1" Hard: 6.3"

[my-castles-crumbling]

smoke - Jegulus Microfic - @into-the-jeggyverse - very NSFW but not explicit - word count: 358

James was going absolutely crazy. Vibrating out of his skin. Literally about to explode.

Because not only did he have to stand in this stupid, sticky, loud bar and stare at Regulus Black dressed in a crop top and skinny jeans, pale skin and freckles practically glowing in the low light, he had to pretend like he hadn't touched that prefect body before. Like he hadn't traced his fingers over that protruding hipbone. Like he hadn't dragged his lips over that constellation of little freckles on Regulus's neck. Like he hadn't tasted those spit-slick lips.

It was a good thing the music was so loud, because he couldn't help but groan a bit as he again looked over to Regulus, who completely ignored him.

But that was it- Regulus ignored him. Made conversation with his friends and didn't spare him a passing glance. Walked past him to get a drink and didn't even bat and eye. He wasn't affected at all.

It drove James crazy.

So he suffered through the night, trying not to be completely obvious about his staring, until he accepted that he'd be going home alone, frustrated but resigned to the fact that he would never be the same. His life was split into two halves, a giant chasm in between- one side before touching Regulus Black, the other side, after.

And then, a hand wrapped around his waist from behind and a low, needy voice whispered in his ear, "Tell your friends you're going outside for a smoke."

He didn't dare question or argue.

Hastily murmuring the excuse to Remus and Sirius, he stumbled out to the back alley, half-expecting to find nobody there, only to see the other man waiting, gray eyes clear and full of desire. "God, Potter," Regulus nearly spat, black curls a bit messy, sweat beading along his hairline. "I've been wanting to do this all bloody night."

And before James could even question what he meant, Regulus sank fluidly to his knees, one hand resting on James's thigh, huge eyes looking up at him, prefect lips parting only the slightest bit.

Perhaps Regulus wasn't as unaffected as James thought.

[thepinkpanther83]

Person A is Reader and Person B is Eddie

Having a campfire in the backyard of Eddies trailer, Eddie and Reader has a few drinks to the point where they were only only the edge of being tipsy. Reader says some true things.

Maybe it leads to some other things? *wink wink*

Please and thank you! 😀

Firelight Confessions

One-Shot Request: “Firelight Confessions”

Eddie Munson x Female Reader

💌 Author’s Note: Huge thanks to the incredible @meankenna for this delicious prompt! As soon as I read “campfire + blushy Eddie + Reader teasing the hell out of him,” I knew this one was gonna get hot fast, and baby, I came to deliver. 🔥 Writing this was an absolute blast (and maybe a little bit of a spiritual experience 🙌🏻), so thank you for the inspiration. I hope it hits all the right notes for you.

To my dear readers: If you like a flirty love story that explodes into chaotic outdoor sex and praise-kink, slightly tipsy Eddie Munson worshiping the ground you walk on, buckle up. You’re in for one hell of a ride. 💋

~Pinkie 🍒

Masterlist

Find me on AO3.

Read this story on AO3.

Summary: What starts as a cozy campfire night with your favorite metalhead turns into something else entirely when your teasing goes a little too far, and Eddie Munson finally snaps.

He’s flustered, needy, and totally at your mercy. You’re in his lap before he even realizes what hit him. And once the sparks fly, there’s no going back.

An indulgent, praisekink-heavy, outdoor smut romp featuring: blushy Eddie, lap straddling, campfire tension, a wall, and one very lucky reader. 😉

Click "Keep Reading" below the cut to read. 😘

“Firelight Confessions”

The fire crackled low between you and Eddie, spitting tiny embers that danced upward and died before they could reach the stars. You were both bundled up in mismatched blankets- Eddie’s was a faded Iron Maiden tapestry that smelled faintly like weed and engine grease, and yours was some pillowy-soft quilt you’d brought from home that he kept calling “fancy” like it was a slur.

A cooler sat lopsided between your chairs, half-full with beer and a suspicious-looking bottle of “whiskey” that probably hadn’t been sealed when purchased. One or both of you might already be buzzed. Probably both.

The boombox on the porch played something classic- Zeppelin or Sabbath, muffled by distance and the occasional hiss of firewood settling. Firelight licked along Eddie’s cheekbones, catching in the dark swoop of his hair. He looked relaxed, for once, head tilted back, throat bared, lips curling around a half-finished sentence.

“Okay, but if I had a werewolf phase,” he said, swirling the beer can like it was a goblet of wine, “it was entirely justified. Seventh grade was rough, sweetheart. Puberty and silver chains don’t mix.”

You snorted. “So that’s why you claimed you had moon tattoos.”

Eddie clutched at his chest like you’d stabbed him. “Claimed? Claimed? How dare you insult my sacred body art.”

“Sacred?” you echoed, amused, watching him with hooded eyes over the rim of your drink.

He was already shifting in his seat, pulling the blanket down and hitching up his shirt like he was unveiling a priceless artifact. “Observe,” he said, trying to sound serious but slurring just enough to ruin it, “the marks of my former beastly self.”

What he actually revealed was… pale skin. A freckle constellation that might’ve been a Big Dipper if you squinted sideways. A few real tattoos, chaotic things, some of bats, a spider, one you thought was a demon skull but also looked suspiciously like some kind of kabuki yokai horror creature, and several others on his arms.

Definitely no moons.

But there was a strip of dark hair running from his navel downward. A narrow path disappearing beneath the waistband of his jeans like it had somewhere sinful to be. Your brain paused for a moment, eyes catching the faint trail of it, just above his belt buckle.

You coughed, almost believably casual. “Wow. So scary. Real beast-mode going on here.”

Eddie grinned and let the shirt drop back into place- slowly, just slow enough to know he caught your stare. “Don’t mock the happy trail, babe. It’s part of the curse. Every full moon, it grows… fluffier.”

You laughed. Couldn’t help it. “You’re drunk.”

“And you’re warm,” he shot back, eyes flicking toward where your blanket was half-draped across his chair, too. His knee brushed yours- light, careless, but it stayed there. “You always get this warm when you drink?”

“I always get this honest when I drink.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow at that, the firelight catching the gleam of it like a challenge.

“Well,” he said, leaning forward with that grin that always got you into trouble, “now that’s interesting…”

The laughter between you settled into something softer- less sharp, more tired. The kind of mellow that only comes when the drinks are just low enough to make the stars look blurry and the fire starts to feel like a heartbeat. Eddie leaned back again, legs stretched out, fingers tapping absently on the arm of his chair.

The boombox had trailed off into something instrumental- bluesy and slow, leaving only the fire to fill the silence with its occasional pop and hiss. For a few moments, neither of you said anything. It wasn’t awkward. It was nice.

Then your eyes caught on him again- his profile against the night, the faint smudge of ash on his jaw, that mop of hair falling into his eyes like it always did, and something warm curled up in your chest, insistent and tipsy.

“Y’know…” you murmured, lazily swirling the last of your drink, “your face is kinda freaking adorable.”

Eddie turned to look at you, eyebrows half-raised in suspicion. You smirked, met his eyes.

“And I bet the rest of you is too.”

There was a split-second of silence. Then:

Eddie froze mid-sip, like you’d just sucker-punched his soul through the Miller Lite. He snorted, then choked. Coughed like he’d swallowed the whole can wrong. You were immediately cackling, nearly dropping your drink in your lap as he gasped dramatically.

“Wha- what the hell… You can’t just say that!” he rasped, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes wide and pink.

“Why not?” you asked innocently, trying to stop giggling. “It’s true. You’ve got this whole rockstar-trash-prince look going on, but then your face is just…” You squinted at him like you were studying a painting. “Ridiculously cute.”

Eddie immediately turned away, tugging his hair down like a curtain. “Okay, stop. I’m gonna combust.”

You leaned forward slightly, peering around the edge of his defense mechanism. “Are you… blushing? Did I get the ever stoic, hardcore, total badass Eddie Munson to blush?”

“What? No.” He peeked at you between fingers and curls, completely betrayed by the dark flush creeping up from his neck to his ears. “It’s… It’s the cold.”

“Ohhh,” you teased, setting your drink aside to lean in with exaggerated understanding. “It’s the cold. Not the part where I said you’re adorable and that I bet the rest of you is too?”

Eddie choked again, this time on air, and blushed harder. “N-no… shut up-!”

“You’re blushing. Oh my God, that’s adorable, too.” You were full-on laughing now, tipsy and delighted, and Eddie looked like he was considering rolling directly into the fire to escape.

“Great,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Amazing. This is going so well for my whole mysterious metal bad boy image.”

“You lost that image when you wrapped yourself in an Iron Maiden blanket and called it ‘sacred armor.’”

“Okay, that was metaphorical. That was art.”

You grinned. “That was adorable.”

He groaned, dragging his hands down his face, but there was a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth- reluctant, but very real.

“…You really think that?” he asked after a second, voice quieter now.

You tilted your head, let it hang in the stillness for a second. Let it land.

“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.”

Eddie looked over at you again, eyes shining a little in the firelight. He didn’t have a comeback this time. Just sat there, staring at you like maybe he was trying to memorize something.

Like maybe he wanted to say something back.

But he didn’t.

Not yet.

The fire crackled low, casting flickering gold across his jaw. Your blanket had slid down a little in the last few minutes, heat rising from somewhere deeper than the flames. Maybe the booze. Maybe the fact that Eddie Munson- loudmouth metalhead, gremlin of Hawkins High, king of sarcastic comebacks, was currently hiding behind his hair, too flustered to form a sentence.

You tucked your legs up under yourself, blanket pooling in your lap, and leaned just a little closer. Just enough to watch his breath stutter.

“You’re usually all bark, Munson,” you said, voice quiet and teasing. “What’s got your tongue now?”

Eddie glanced over, hair falling into his face, eyes wide like you’d caught him in a lie. His lips parted. Closed. Opened again.

“…Maybe I’m just… processing,” he mumbled, fingers tightening slightly on his beer can. “Or combusting.”

Your grin went slow and wicked. “Processing what exactly?”

He tried for his usual cocky smirk, but it was… twitchy. Shaky around the edges. “You. Being all…” He gestured vaguely at you. “That.”

“That?” You arched a brow. “C’mon, rockstar. Use your words.”

Eddie groaned, flopping back in his seat, dragging both hands down his face like he could scrub the heat off his cheeks. “You’re doing this on purpose.”

“Doing what?” You gave him your most innocent look, curling forward just enough that your knees bumped against his again. “Sitting here? Talking to you? Complimenting your ‘sacred body art’?”

“That was slander, actually,” he mumbled behind his fingers. “You laughed at my werewolf phase.”

“You named your werewolf form. I should have laughed.”

He peeked at you again, lips twitching. “…Lupus the Dread was a solid name.”

You were laughing softly, but you didn’t pull back. Your eyes lingered on his face- his ridiculous, adorable, flushed face, and you let the air between you stretch, taut and warm.

“Y’know,” you said, quieter now, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you speechless before. It’s kinda hot.”

Eddie blinked. Froze. Then groaned again, louder this time, tipping his head back like he was begging the stars to strike him down. “You’re killing me.”

“Am I?” you asked, voice feather-light now, nearly a whisper. “Or am I just… burning you up a little?”

His head snapped back toward you so fast the curls bounced. His eyes were wide, pupils blown dark. For a second- just one, he looked like he was gonna lean in.

Then he stopped. Licked his lips. Stared at yours.

“I think,” he said slowly, “you’re trying to start something you can’t finish.”

Your heart skipped. But you didn’t move back.

You smiled.

“Mmm, Eddie,” you whispered, leaning in until your faces were barely a breath apart. “What if I want to finish it?”

The air had gone still.

Not quiet- there was still the crackle of the fire, the distant rumble of the stereo, the clink of a beer can rolling lopsided off the cooler, but still. Charged. Like the space between lightning and thunder.

You could feel it on your skin. In your lungs. That look he was giving you, wide and dark and locked on your face like you were gravity and he was already falling.

And you weren’t backing off.

Not this time.

Eddie’s tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip. His voice came rough, like it’d been dragged over gravel.

“You keep talking like that, sweetheart…” His gaze dropped to your mouth, lingered. “And I’m gonna do something real stupid.”

You tilted your head, your smile lazy and inviting.

“Like what?”

A moment passed. Then another. And then-

He moved.

Not fast. Not sudden. Like a tide rolling in, steady and sure, sweeping in to crash against the shore. His hand came up first, fingers threading gently through your hair, then sliding to cradle the back of your neck, warm and calloused and careful.

His eyes flicked to yours.

One last second. One last chance to stop.

You didn’t.

So he didn’t.

Eddie kissed you.

Soft, at first. Cautious. Testing, tasting- like he didn’t quite believe he was allowed to. His lips brushed yours once, featherlight, then again, firmer this time. His other hand found your waist beneath the blanket, anchoring him, grounding him, like he needed proof this was real.

And god, his mouth was warm. A little clumsy. A little shy. But hungry underneath it all. Starved.

You leaned into him, one hand curling in his jacket, the other pressing to his chest. He made a sound against your lips- somewhere between a groan and a sigh, and pulled you closer, his thumb stroking softly at the nape of your neck.

The fire behind him hissed and popped, sending a flurry of sparks skyward, but neither of you looked away. The world could’ve cracked open, and you wouldn’t have noticed.

When he finally broke the kiss- just barely, his forehead rested against yours, his breath shaky and uneven.

“Definitely stupid,” he whispered.

“Maybe,” you breathed back. “But worth it.”

Eddie was still catching his breath when you crawled into his lap.

You didn’t ask. You didn’t have to.

The moment your knees hit the outside of his thighs and your weight settled in his lap, he went still, wide eyes blinking up at you like he couldn’t decide whether to worship you or spontaneously combust. His hands hovered at your waist, unsure.

So you took them and guided them up under your shirt, over your ribs, against your bare breasts, until he got the message.

“Jesus Christ,” he whispered, reverent.

You smiled and leaned in, mouth brushing his jaw as you spoke. “You’re so hot like this, Eddie.”

He made a strangled sound, fingers gripping your flesh like he couldn’t believe any of this was real. His eyes roamed your face, then dropped to your mouth, your neck, the shadowed curve of your chest.

“I’m not even doing anything,” he mumbled. “You’re the one… you’re- fuck.”

“You’re hot,” you repeated, slow and certain, like you wanted it etched into the bones of his memory. You kissed the corner of his mouth, then down to the hinge of his jaw. “Your skin’s soft. Your hands are rough. Your hair’s a mess. Drives me crazy.”

Eddie’s breath hitched. His hips shifted beneath you, and the tiniest groan escaped his throat. You could feel him getting harder, right there under you, and god, he was trying so hard to stay respectful- polite, even as his self-control frayed by the second.

“I’m gonna die,” he whispered. “I’m gonna die and this’ll be on my tombstone- ‘Beloved freak and sex idiot. Died happy.’”

You giggled, then rolled your hips down just enough to make him gasp. “You like when I say nice things about you?”

Eddie’s hands clutched tighter. “I- I like when you say anything about me. I like when you touch me. I like when you’re on top of me. I like… fuck, babe, I like you.”

His voice cracked a little. Honest. Unfiltered. That talkative edge Eddie got when he was overwhelmed- babbling praise like it spilled straight from the heart without hitting any filters on the way out.

“You’re so pretty,” he said suddenly, voice hoarse. “You’re just- your eyes and your mouth and your laugh, fuck, I’m never gonna survive this. You’re gonna kill me, and I’m gonna thank you.”

You bit your bottom lip to hide the smile, then leaned forward and kissed him hard, swallowing his next groan. His hands were everywhere now- up your back, across your thighs, gripping your hips like he was anchoring himself to reality. You rocked against him again, and his whole body jerked.

Clothes started to shift. His flannel pushed off one shoulder, your shirt riding up, denim shifting against denim in friction-heavy bliss. You could feel every twitch, every breath.

“Need you,” Eddie muttered into your mouth, almost desperate. “Need you so bad.”

“I’m right here,” you breathed. “And you’re beautiful.”

That broke him.

His eyes fluttered shut. His mouth opened. His hips bucked up just enough to make you gasp. You felt his whole body shiver beneath yours.

“Say it again,” he begged.

“You’re beautiful.”

A full-body shudder. His fingers dug into your thighs.

One of you tried to stand. Maybe both. There was some fumbling, some off-balance giggling, your blanket falling off your shoulders, a shoe lost in the grass. You tried to make it to the trailer. You really did.

But about halfway there, Eddie’s mouth was on your neck, and suddenly the idea of making it inside seemed way less urgent.

Your back hit the side of the trailer with a thud softened by giggles and breathless moans, the cold metal sending a shiver up your spine. The night air kissed your exposed skin, but Eddie’s body pressed up against you- hot and solid, keeping you warm, keeping you anchored.

He looked at you like he wanted to crawl inside your soul.

“Tell me this is real,” he whispered, voice ragged, forehead pressed to yours. “Tell me you want this. That you want me.”

You grabbed his face, fingers in that ridiculous hair, and pulled him down for a kiss that said everything. But you answered anyway, because he needed it.

“I want you,” you murmured against his lips. “I’ve wanted you.”

Eddie groaned like it pained him- in the best way. His hands were all over you now, not frenzied but hungry, sliding up your shirt, tracing every inch like he couldn’t memorize you fast enough.

“You’re killing me, sweetheart,” he breathed, “and I love it.”

You helped each other undress in pieces- clothes tugged just far enough to make room. Your pants around one ankle, his belt hanging loose, jeans shoved just far enough down to free him. Your shirt bunched up beneath your arms. His fingers fumbling your breasts, reverent even in their clumsiness.

Then- finally, his hand between your legs, and the groan that came out of him when he found how ready you were?

Almost obscene.

“Jesus H. Christ,” he muttered. “You’re- fuck, you’re already so-”

“Eddie,” you gasped, cutting him off, eyes wide and dark and needing. “Now. Please.”

And that did it.

He lined himself up, hand braced on the wall beside your head, eyes searching your face for any hesitation, and when you nodded, soft and sure, he buried himself in you with a gasp like he’d just been blessed.

“Oh my god,” he whimpered, forehead falling to your shoulder, hips still. “You feel- you feel… fuck.”

You clutched him close, one leg hooked around his waist, hips rolling against his, and that’s when he started to move.

Slow at first. Testing the rhythm. Pressing you into the trailer wall like you were something sacred. His hand slid up your back, gripping the nape of your neck, pulling your forehead to his again like he needed the contact.

He talked the whole time.

“You’re so warm- fuck, you’re perfect, can’t believe I get to touch you… Can’t believe this is real-”

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty like this, baby, look at you-”

“I could stay right here forever. Never stop. Never… shit- never stop.”

Every time you moaned or gasped or whispered his name, he got messier. Deeper. Closer. You could feel how undone he was becoming- how praise and pressure turned him into a desperate, reverent mess.

And when you cupped his jaw and whispered, “You’re so sexy, Eddie,” right into his mouth-

He lost it.

His thrusts stuttered, eyes squeezed shut, mouth open against your cheek as a broken, “Oh fuck-” tore from his throat.

He didn’t finish yet, not quite. But it cracked something in him.

Suddenly, he was grabbing under your thighs, lifting you up fully against the wall, arms straining, grinding into you with dizzying pressure as your back scraped the trailer’s siding and your hips found perfect rhythm with his.

The firelight flickered nearby, casting his hair and shoulders in a golden glow. You kissed him hard. He kissed you like he wanted to breathe you in. Like your mouth was the only thing keeping him alive.

When your body started to tremble and you let out a broken gasp- he felt it. Froze. Pulled back just enough to see your face.

“You close?” he whispered, awestruck.

You nodded.

His voice dropped to a reverent whisper, barely holding it together. “Come on, baby. Come with me. Let me feel it- please… please.”

His rhythm grew messier- sloppier, with every roll of your hips, every gasp you gave him. Sweat clung to his skin, damp curls sticking to his neck, and he looked ruined in the firelight. Blushed all over. Lips kiss-bruised. Pupils blown so wide there was almost no brown left.

And god, he was still talking.

Not all of it made sense- half of it was just breathy curses and your name and desperate, reverent nonsense:

“Baby, fuck, you feel so- so good, I can’t-”

“I’m not gonna last- I’m not gonna… shit-”

“You’re perfect, you’re so… shit, please, don’t stop doing that-”

You were clenching around his length, your thighs were trembling, nails digging into his back as you chased the finish. Every thrust pushed you closer. He felt it, could tell.

And he wanted you to fall first.

So he dropped his mouth to your neck, kissed right beneath your ear, and whispered-

“Come on, pretty girl. Let go for me. Wanna feel you fall apart around me. Wanna feel you lose it, baby.”

Your body snapped.

It was sudden- hot, and electric and everywhere. You cried out, shuddering, your entire body tightening and pulsing around him as your orgasm slammed into you. Your legs clenched, your breath hitched, and Eddie groaned like it was killing him as your body milked him.

He stilled.

Then- one last grind forward, and he followed with a hoarse, desperate moan, hips rocking into yours as he spilled himself into you, forehead pressed to your cheek, body shaking. His voice went all strangled and ruined as he babbled through it:

“Oh fuck… fuck… thank you, oh my god, you’re… baby-” “You’re gonna break me… holy shit-”

It took a long minute for either of you to breathe right.

He was still holding you up, though his arms were trembling now. You both laughed- quiet and breathless and a little wild. Like you couldn’t believe what just happened. Like maybe the world did just shift.

You kissed his cheek, then his jaw, then his mouth- slow and lazy and smiling. His fingers rubbed soft circles into the backs of your thighs. Your heart still thudded in your chest, heavy and warm.

“I think,” he murmured finally, “we should probably try to stand straight before I collapse and we both die in a sex heap against the trailer.”

You snorted. “What a way to go.”

“No, seriously. They’d write it on my headstone. ‘Died from being too horny.’ Wayne would never live it down.”

You gave him one last kiss, then wiggled until he helped you down. Your legs were jello and your clothes were a mess, but somehow, it just made you laugh harder.

He took your hand. Twined your fingers. Still a little dazed, still glowing.

And the two of you walked back toward the trailer steps like you hadn’t just fucked like wild rabbits against the wall- but everyone could’ve guessed it by the flush on your faces.

Once seated on the metal steps, Eddie collapsed beside you with a sigh that came from the depths of his soul.

You leaned against his shoulder. He kissed your temple. Firelight crackled in the distance.

And after a quiet moment, he mumbled:

“…So, uh. You wanna go steady, or…?”

You looked up at him, still flushed and glowing, lips curling into a smirk. “After that? I might make you mine forever.”

Eddie blinked. Then grinned like a lunatic. “Okay. I’m good with that. You hear that, universe? I’m a taken man.”

“Don’t yell at the stars, Munson.”

“I’m in love, I do what I want!”

You laughed into his chest. He wrapped an arm around you, smug and spent and so unbelievably yours.

And in the golden quiet of the night, the fire crackling low and the scent of pine smoke still lingering in your hair, you knew you’d never forget a single second of this.

Who loves Eddie Munson, show of hands! 😂 Let me know if you want to be added to my tag list!

@justalotoffanfiction, @yorshie, @jackalope-in-a-storm, @v1per1ne, @daveythorntonslocker, @cokepowder55, @kelsiegrin, @ash-stardust, @meankenna, @kellsck, @chronicles-of-koystee

Masterlist

[alessabriel]

Female Characters Arcane

Summary: 

Character: Vi (Violet), Sevika, Jinx (Powder), Caitlyn Kiramman, Mel Medarda, Grayson, Ambessa Medarda, Renata Glasc, Cassandra Kiramman. 

Cw. ninguna. 

➤  Vi (Violet).

In retrospect Vi had always been the strong one in everything, there was so much she carried inside her that sometimes she felt nothing short of exploding so hard and imploding until she disappeared. She didn't know if she felt like a supernova in moments, maybe she was exploding and never knew it or so she thought until she felt herself melting against soft hands, long fingers, slightly calloused fingertips, manicured nails and such a delicious feeling that shook her from bone to muscle. She felt boneless, naked, exposed, vulnerable and muscles exposed to the open air, naked nerves, nerves that you caressed so sweetly letting everything inside her melt and stir in an amalgam of comfort, warmth and coziness. It was cozy, it felt good to be comforted, cared for. It felt good, cared for, loved, adored even and it was embarrassing how she pushed her face into your chest; rubbing her cheek against the softness, bewitching herself in your scent, clinging to your body and wrapping her arms around your hips, squeezing in the hope that you wouldn't disappear.

"Because you love me so much pretty girl?"

He doesn't know why he asks, he just does, because he doesn't think he deserves so much love (if he does, he deserves it so much that you consider it almost a crime that he doesn't believe it).

"Because it's you, I love you from head to toe, the satisfying or unsatisfying feelings included, when you come home from a boxing league fight in Zaun with bloody knuckles, when I see you come home from work in that uniform I know you still hate, when you wake up with your hair a mess and in a bad mood, when you sleep, when you think you're not presentable, as a teenager and right now, I can't imagine myself anywhere else but next to you Vi" you recite with such ease, syrupy words rolling off your tongue with such sweetness and ease that they seem like honey, as you gently cradle her cheeks between your palms adoring her features; slightly bushy eyebrows, bright powder blue eyes, deceptively long eyelashes, nose just a little crooked from his countless fights, the small scar that gently parts his left eyebrow, the nose piercing, slightly plump lips and the scar on his upper lip, the tattoo on his cheek of a Roman six, the freckles that so subtly dot his skin"....I love everything about you Violet, I always will, until you let me."

Vi didn't pretend that this answer didn't completely disarm her; bone by bone, nerve by nerve until she felt almost dissected by every word and how your love seeped like water through her fingers, your loving gaze was only the last nail that cemented her love for you. Your love was intense when self-sabotage was at her fingertips and nightmares made her believe she was unloved, it was soft and gentle when she felt discouraged and decided, overwhelming when she felt needy and could not express it, violent when she refused to hear that she was loved. If you loved her you filled every nook and cranny, and helped her to get through, to move on and go on. You simply knew how to meticulously dissect her, skin layer by skin layer, muscles, bones, joints and veins to sneak your love in. You disassembled her to an almost molecular degree or could be compared to it. So, she just hid her face in her partner's shoulder, feeling her cheeks flushed beyond redness even her ears felt hot, her heart racing, her hands sweating and even her body's response to your caresses and words.

"...never leave me love"

"I will never rosita" you reply in a soft voice caressing the back of her neck, playing with the soft strands of her pink hair.

"...don't call me that" Vi whispered, even though she loved that cheesy nickname.

And you always understood her, as Vi understood you.

➤ Sevika 

For Sevika the notion of a quiet night was a lot, but occasionally this was; arriving at her apartment in Zaun (the only good thing about being Silco's second in command) where you usually arrived earlier since you worked in the weapons factories, hence you arrived before her. So arriving was a daily process, arriving at the place they shared where it always smelled like a meal cooked a little at a time, sometimes it smelled like a familiar food or a random dessert.

She craved something sweet.

She never knew how her partner was always aware of when she was craving something sweet, but she had an uncanny accuracy to it and today after dealing with Jinx's problems, having to fix them and not being able to complain because Jinx's self-proclaimed father would tell her to shut up, as if her job included babysitting a girl over 18. Fuck.

"From here I can see smoke coming out of that head of yours Vika."

Before she could even articulate a word a plate with a generous piece of chocolate cake was placed in front of her with a cutlery, she justly occupied something sweet to get over the bad drink.

"...again another mess I had to clean up" she grumbled annoyed, not in the mood to elaborate.

"Jinx, right?"

Sevika just affirmed, before taking the first bite, the chocolate exploded in his mouth and relaxed him a little, it was the little treats you usually always gave him, along with intimacy, and a life together that softened his heart.

"I don't want to bore you with the details sweetie" he replies before taking another bite of cake.

"you never bore me what happened Vika?"

The best nights are those where he eats something sweet prepared by the hands of the woman he loved and just talk, sometimes about nothing, sometimes about everything, about the future they dreamed together as children (although it was not the same it was close to what they imagined although with the difference that she herself could never give you everything she dreamed of giving you), about how they were so fucked up that nothing could get them out of that hole but together it was worth it or about the day of both of them. Sometimes she allowed herself to daydream, to dream of a better life to be able to give her partner, a place where they both didn't have to be so meddled with everything they knew would cost them in the long run.

"I love you Vika" you whispered in a syrupy voice, before stealing a kiss from Sevika that tasted like chocolate and expensive cigars.

Sometimes Sevika felt good like this.

➤ Jinx (Powder)

Mylo's voice sometimes upset her more than she could bear, more than she was willing to tolerate and she felt like scratching her scalp until she reached her skull, to go even further to her brain and to be able to shut up that irritating voice. Now she was not the Powder who felt bad about everything, who felt her spirit die with every veiled insult, with every "whenever something goes wrong, you bring bad luck" or with every memory that she tried hard to forget because she would not have them anymore, because she would never have access to more of it. So she became engrossed in improving her pumps, making the closed circuit more precise and making sure no one could see inside them.

"Silco says you haven't eaten in a few blue days."

Jinx hears you, clearly he does as your voice is the only one capable of getting through all the voices swirling in his ears; Mylo scoffing and Claggor pointing out a few things on his pump, thanks a thousand times your voice.

"...Silco says a lot of things" he grumbles before pressing the pump in the perfect closed loop to throw it towards the vacuum under the huge turbine where his workshop was located listening to the explosion "but he's right this time, I haven't eaten and I don't plan to...Did you cook me? Gimme, gimme, gimme!"

Sometimes she regrets everything that was going on, but the only thing that made her feel good and maybe somewhat lucky (contrary to what Mylo was always saying in her ear) to have a girl who was in love with her and who cared for her in her own way, sometimes she thought that your love kept her halfway sane, but er a secret that she would take to her grave forever.

Powder, in the past knew what filial love, support and warmth felt like.

Until blue came along to change everything.

Jinx, knows what fear is in the eyes of others, what affection for identification is since Silco saw himself in her but never knew to what degree which led him to treat her as a daughter which he sincerely appreciated, and knew what pure love meant, love without adultery.

You, blessed and cursed be you loved her for every positive and negative trait, you held her in her crises, you embraced her when nightmares destroyed her bone by bone, and when pink detonated her. You had seen the worst of her being, that lurid, dirty, stained and ground to a bloody pulp and yet you could love her, encourage her, tell her the truth and be her pillar. You seemed to be forged in heaven with a resilience that only the devil could create, or so she formulated.

"Have you cracked the Hextech theory yet?" you question interested, looking over her shoulder at her work leaving her to eat in peace and her space.

Jinx takes a while to pass the huge mouthful of food she had taken, but it was a sandwich with everything she liked and she finally had something in her stomach, she didn't know how but every food you touched tasted a thousand times better.

"something like that" she replies as she passes the bite with a gulp of apple juice, and her mind betrays her with remembering that you had a huge gallon of apple juice in your home just for when she visited did that feel like being loved? maybe yes "they are equations, calculations, instruction and so on, sequences of steps but I have a little trouble deciphering them, I have to recreate the, understand them so I can replicate them, and runes I think? I think they are runes and I don't know what they mean, but an easy job would be boring."

"wow that sounds complicated"

She only nods at your words, before she feels the gentle weight of your bandaged hand against her slender shoulder, and immediately identifies the weight of your hand on her. A welcome weight, loved, adored even and she melts all over, mouth full; your lips softly against her hundred, with warm, abiding love.

"Blue luck" you say in a soft voice, just for her.

Jinx stays alone in her workshop, a plate of food on her desk with another sandwich which she must finish because it is a crime not to finish the food you make her with so much love next to the big glass of apple juice, a glass which you yourself had made for her filled with soft drawings of the sky clouds over a gradient in blue of different shades until bordering on black. Her old glass had broken and you, bless you, had made her a new one, a new meaning that didn't make her retch from time to time.

How much did you love her? She thinks, maybe, you loved her very much and that comforts her.

➤ Caitlyn Kiramman. 

For Caitlyn to really feel her mother's rejection for her career was like a little thorn embedded in her skin and to be reduced to only having patrols in the Piltover shopping area was a bruise on the flesh, blood grinding and reminiscent of the annoyance from time to time, she hates it. She hates that it left her on patrols in expensive stores, the commercial sector and plaza of Piltover where nothing was going on.

It took her away from the countryside where she wanted to be to see the world outside of golden Piltover.

But, as always, she found the good part of it, she could sneak away and escape at times to that elegant, beautiful and minimalist store full of beautiful flowers exported from murky waters, Bandle City, Demacia, the Freljord, Ixtal, Ionia, Noxus, Targon and Zaun, that's a lot of flowers that are on display for all who can and want to buy, a beautiful and elegant flower shop. Whenever you went in there it was a delight to your nose since it smelled like a combination of flowers, a sweet, clean and you perfume. Although it was an irony since you always smelled of flowers, and perfume.

You were her safe place.

Caitlyn makes her way pretending to check until she reaches the flower shop and enters, opening the thick ornate glass doors that only allowed a partial view of the flower shop and when she steps inside, the amalgamation of scents so pleasant hits her nose in a friendly way and then she sees you, you're in the back room she sees you coming and going with flowers in your hands, so he takes the trouble to put up the sign "I'll be back in a flower arrangement" which always gave him grace and advanced through the store seeing the elegant furniture in pleasant tones to the back room where you are humming creating very elegant flower arrangements with a crystal flower in the middle of other more extravagant and beautiful ones. She leans against the door frame, watching you create those beautiful floral arrangements before rapping her knuckles on the door.

"Did I tell you that you look like a fairy?" she questions with amusement, it's a sweet nickname she's always had for you

"This fairy witnesses an enforcer skipping her patrols? The audacity" you reply with a chuckle, amused "Mistress Cassandra put you on a leash again pretty girl?"

She snorts when she hears you, stepping fully into the back room closing the door seeing that in the back there are even more flowers on huge furniture acclimating for them "You know, she's got the short leash for me and daddy couldn't dissuade her, so I'll be here for a few weeks."

"Then we can have lunch together. What do you think?" you offer, looking for something good in between everything.

"it would be a crime not to take advantage, sure do you fancy going for lunch? I've already put up your "I'll be back in a flower arrangement" sign" she says with amusement at the text you created when you got your own place

"Oh come on, it's original miss enforcer."

Yeah, maybe there was something good about patrolling the shopping area.

➤ Mel Medarda. 

"Don't move so much dear" Mel says, without the need to see you as she hears the soft sound of the silk sliding across your skin and is concentrating on the canvas finishing finding the exact tone of your skin, as if she has it memorized already "I don't want to lose the pose I indicated".

"It's just that my thigh itches" you grumble with a disgruntled pout because of the itch and when Mel allows you to move, you scratch just a little and return to the pose that is not so uncomfortable, leaning back against an elegant armchair that Mel had acquired just for you when they started living together with only a silk covering your skin in the areas where they should be covered "Aren't you bored? I am, talk about something, I don't know."

"A troubled muse, from what I see" adds with a chuckle Mel, smiling combining the tones in the palette watching you with deep gaze analyzing your anatomy, how your thighs joined your wide hips with a softness as if you were molded by the gods themselves and maybe, it was true "I'm almost done and I'll take you to dinner at your favorite restaurant"

"I want desserts" you jump with excitement, not realizing how the silk falls from your chest revealing your breasts and you remember your possess returning to her with blushing cheeks "Sorry love"

Mel just smiles, and finds even more charming the pose you came to be in, a gentle evolution of the original pose, demure and sensual, almost an innocent combination, as your gaze falls to the side as a soft embarrassment, but notice your sidelong glance at herself, a gaze full of love and glow. It is one of the many canvases she has created, in a long list of paintings that are in her living room and there will be one more.

"You should order food first, if you eat only desserts your stomach will hurt" she points out, adding more shadows.

"Mel" you complain in a whiny and annoyed tone, holding the pose.

"Food before, dessert after and rosé wine" tries to convince Mel already knowing your eternal love for sweet, and well sweet comes back to sweet

"...okay"

"Good girl"

Silence fills the room, and Mel continues with the painting on the canvas, trying to portray your sweet self until your voice again is heard, she loves that you are that sweet and somewhat whiny woman, because it is only in moments like these where you show how spoiled she has you, and it must be so, something she learned in Noxus (maybe the only good thing) that couples will always be priority and keeps you pampered, spoiled and happy, like you have her happy always.

"Almost there?"

Yes, she loves those moments where your gaze meets hers and you look like a spoiled little princess but there is a sweet fun in your eyes that she loves and finds herself adoring.

"I think I'll paint other canvases."

"Mel!"

He just laughs, continuing, he loves when you are his muse, because in retrospect you are always his muse even when you wake up disheveled and when you are dazzlingly beautiful decked out in the best dresses. He simply loves you.

➤ Grayson. 

he stress of work weighs heavy on his body, he almost feels twice his age and when he gets home, the aroma of a meal cooking wafts from the kitchen delighting his nose and being, you are his home and he adores you, you are the perfect wife. He distracts himself by taking off his boots in the entryway, stepping onto the cold living room floor passing through the spacious living room before he gets the soft smack of you impacting against his body and he can only smile, you always do that even when they were young and he loves those effusive hugs.

"You know I come home dirty from work honey" he speaks in a soft, gravelly voice close to your ear, squeezing his arm around your shoulders and kisses your hundred, savoring that expensive cream you love so much and keeps your skin smooth, from which he steals from time to time

"You know I don't mind, I must give you your hug every time you arrive" you grumble against his suit, he smells a bit humorous and a bit sour, he sure did patrol in Zaun with the recent peace treaty between the two cities and you cling to his chest, before looking up seeing him with loving eyes, Grayson is so beautiful beyond belief and as the years go by she only gets more attractive and handsome, you love that rugged and gentle air which combine masterfully in her and you stand on tiptoe kissing her "Welcome home, I'm making your favorite but I'll leave it on low heat and I can give you a bath."

"Do I look so old that you already ueires to give me a bath yourself?" she questions, with light humor frying her nose against your cheek holding you against her body, hugging you lovingly and loving the sweetish scent on your skin.

"It's not that" you say, with a pout before kissing his jaw and biting it gently "But I want to spoil you, you're the man of the house" you add, with dark humor that only your wife understands.

Grayson can only smile, the black humor between the two was a way to deal with turbulent issues with their respective families, in your own case your father disowned you for marrying a woman (a beautiful and special woman, it should be clarified) which was something that hurt you at the time but now is a topic they make jokes like that about, and in your case your parents hated you from the beginning for not being male and well, black humor is being able to make fun of everything that can hurt them and well, in your marriage humor is never lacking.

"Well, well I can't deny my sweet wife anything."

The trip to the bathroom in the master bedroom where you both have slept for years, the uniform is left in the laundry basket and you step into the shower, getting all the dirt off listening to you humming as she watches you through the glass door that blurs everything and when she steps out, her own nakedness doesn't bother her and you less, you've seen each other naked before in all the marriage os, there's nothing sexual and when she touches the hot water with soothing salts, she almost melts against the marble, even more so when she feels your hands in her hair smearing the conditioner which keeps her frizzy hair in place and your fingers against her scalp almost makes her purr, melt against you.

"Don't you get tired of pampering me honey?" she questions in a deep voice, relaxed against the tub.

"Don't you get tired of loving me? Of waking me up with kisses? Of taking me on dates to places I tell you about and always remember? Of being the love of my life?" you question, voice soft and flowing, stroking her scalp taking care of her hair.

"Never."

"We're on the same page."

Grayson knows what it's like to feel loved, he knows what it's like to love, and he wouldn't change a thing about his life, he wants to love you for millennia if possible, in this life and beyond.

➤ Ambessa Medarda. 

"You know it's going to be hard" you say, to the air listening to her heavy, steady footsteps against the white marble floor of your personal library in the palace, your wife in all her warrior and emotionally constipated glory wandering around pacing, and you just leave her drawing the memory of the meal you had with your daughter and son-in-law; Mel and Jayce, they make such a cute couple it's inevitable not to portray them, you'll give it to your daughter.

"I know, things are never easy and even less so with Mel."

"Well, if you were banished you'd be upset too and remember, I almost divorced you, so do better."

Ambessa bites her lip, remembering that turbulent moment, as cruel as it is, that she embodies the fox and the wolf at the same time she loves her family with all her being, with everything and she could destroy a thousand regions in order to protect them, strip herself of her humanity in order not to lose them, which is a paradox since she herself banished her daughter, the daughter she loved so much and who exasperated her so much because Mel was like her before she touched death, before accepting that she could become that warlord that her clan needed because she would not throw her wife to that place although, in a global vision of everything she knows that her wife is a fox in the skin of a rabbit, she is the most lethal strategist of Noxus that even the other four warlords respect and rightly so, she does not need strength or a cannon to subdue the rest, to prove her worth and Mel also inherited that. Her daughter was, in retrospect the culmination of their love for each other in her.

"I know" she replied, annoyed but not addressing her properly dropping into the long nest you must always have in your personal library and when she sees how you put down your notebook, she comes over dropping her head in your lap "but...I really want to sort it all out."

"Have you tried talking to her yet, telling her the truth?" you question, running your fingers through her hair between wavy and curly, unruly letting her cling to your legs, her hand large and calloused against your bare leg due to the Noxus dress you wore, her fingers though they carried death and carried blood to no end on your skin, on your flesh they were gentle "...that time was hard, and you proved your point, I wasn't ready to go through that ordeal like Kino did, Mel is diplomatic and doesn't value war, death and blood like you were raised and what you held on to, but what you hold high for your clan, for your family and well Kino is just like you but with a little diplomacy in the recipe."

She just sighs, feeling your caresses and lets her guard down, feeling naked and vulnerable, nerves in the air and in your sight "I know, it was selfish of me to push her away, save her from what would end up like us"

"acknowledging it is the first step, Kino has already spoken to you and her sister, all that remains is to give that head of yours time my love."

Ambessa never knows how you can love her, weapons, blood and death, trouble recognizing her own feelings, and a fierce strength to keep her family alive, her clan but, well she wants to bathe in your love, receive your caresses and delicacy. Only you have seen this vulnerable side and yet you love it. You have seen her crying after her first war, when she came back with blood on her hands and partially broken psyche, but you were there holding her tight despite the size difference, you held her all night long letting her cry until, she became the warlord she is now.

"...Will you be with me there when I talk to Mel?"

"I'll never leave you Bess, you married me and you'll never get rid of me in hell."

And if Ambessa was true to herself, heaven, hell and earth, she always wants to be with you. With loving softness which she professes only to you, she holds your wrist kissing your pulse sliding the kisses down to your finger where a red gold ring in the shape of a vine with a crystalline diamond adorns your ring finger above the black band, she made those rings herself and you never take them off your hands.

"Then I'm in luck, because I never want to leave you."

➤ Renata Glasc. 

He knows the feeling of climbing from the depths of mud, garbage and waste to position himself at the top of the city of iron and glass, installing a house in Piltover that became the central in medicine, cost horrors but here he was today controlling Zaun from the clouds and among the light air which does not make the lungs tremble. She grew at the expense of the misfortune of others, but, in Zaun is common and controls everything, leaving a certain slack to the rest of the barons and baronesses giving them the false sensation of power and freedom, to destroy them if she believes that they will put themselves in the same step where she is.

She is privileged to be at the top of the food chain in Zaun and Piltover, even if those pilties don't know it.

Many describe her as a cruel and cold woman, she is that and more. But, if his wife asked her to freeze hell she would do it. The only truth was, your wife was the one who possessed your purest and most sincere love which she has extracted from her cold chest just for you, leaving her heart in your flimsy hands. Therefore, he finds it fascinating to look at you, to admire your body, your silhouette and various expressions, your soft hands and how your skin no longer shows that sickly tone from lack of sun.

"Stop staring at me like that Ren" you say, in a soft whisper, shy like the first time he saw you.

"Darling it's impossible to stop looking at you, you are my wife and I love to admire you" Renata replies in a deep voice, approaching with fluid steps to you, where you gently place every little piece of mirror on the wall of her office, you were her little artist "...you are a natural artist and I love to see when you create all of this"

"You have always seen me, even when I graffitied the alleys of Zaun, one would think you would be bored by now" you say, gently taking each piece of mirror sticking it on the wall creating a scene and you feel Renata's mechanical hand on your hip which makes you sigh, you try hard not to think about what happened this morning at home, when she held you with that same mechanical arm so sleek and stylish yet strong pinning you against the bed and Renata devouring you

"I never tire of your creative process."

Renata rests her chin on your head, seeing every little piece of glass on the wall simulating like a fissure where you see a beautiful city, a Zaun you dreamed of and just kisses your hundred "one day I will make that Zaun come true."

I love you and I would give you hell, heaven, earth, the firmament just to make you smile, that's what he wants to say but he's silent when he sees your smile, your eyes full of love.

Renata can't imagine anyone else by her side but you.

➤ Cassandra Kiramman. 

If someone had told you in the past that you would end up married to the girl you came to hate (I didn't really, it was a gay panic actually) who brought you gray hairs with that joy and optimism, with her sweet, pleasant and kind smiles, with her concern, naked emotions, how you weren't afraid of feelings and showing them, that girl you hate in the past is currently your wife.

She is married to the love of your life and has a daughter with you.

He sighs softly, savoring the flower tea that he likes to drink and that you brought from your travels outside Piltover, a beautiful small flower enclosed in a bud, opaque and dry until it comes in contact with hot water blooming leaving the most beautiful flowers, and creating a sweet, delicious tea with a unique flavor. A box of tea that you always brought for her, without fail along with flowers, and books from other regions that she spends her nights reading. To tell the truth, the girl she hated in the past now made her happy, her cheeks hurt from smiling so much when you came on a trip and wrapped her in a tight hug, but every time she saw that scene it made her heart flip, it was as if you carved your name on her heart and soul.

"It's not fair mommy!" you hear a little childish voice squeal with indignation, it's in the middle of the huge garden with some dartboards a considerable distance away and the little girl stomps her little foot on the ground showing her anger "You let me win and I'll tell mommy!".

Cassandra feels her heart melt, as Caitlyn is held in her wife's arms and hears her laugh, it's impossible for Caitlyn to get so angry at her wife when you always get the giggles out of her to no end.

"I didn't let you win Caitlyn, you really won there" you point out in a soft voice once you leave her leaning on your hip looking at the targets and the rifle on the ground, an exact copy of yours because that's what your daughter wanted "You'll really be a good shot you know that?"

"Do you think so mom?" questions Caitlyn, small and bright-eyed to the max, expression cheerful and hopeful

"Of course I do honey, and when you grow up I'll make a rifle just for you" you promise with a smile, watching your daughter prance in your arms and you kiss her cheeks lovingly "A rifle just for you, just like you wanted."

Cassandra just smiles, watching the cute scene and how Caitlyn sees you with bright eyes, huge and hopeful, she loved her family even that woman who made her angry, who made her laugh until she cried and break her cold facade, make her heart beat wildly, but she is the woman she loves to see sleeping next to her, she simply loves her and she wouldn't change any of that.

His life is happy.

[abitchandabastard]

Dean took a second to just stare, letting his eyes roam over his baby brother’s body, staring at his flat chest, the skin freckled and pale, looking over his slender shoulders, collarbones hollowed out. He let his eyes drop, studying the way the boy’s hipbones jutted out, wanting to drop to his knees and lick a wet strip across the flat surface. He finally let his eyes fall one more time, focusing in on the young boy’s glistening cunt.

“Excited, huh? Want your big brother’s cock? Gonna be a good, quiet boy for me, Sammy?”

Dean didn’t know where he was pulling this from but all he noticed was Sam getting wetter as he talked. Desperate little thing, was all that was repeating in his head. Desperate little thing that he needed his dick in or he’d explode.

[mangooes]

Spring comes, so does the dragon

The afternoon sun dipped low over the endless flower fields just outside the bustling cityscape of Zone N109, bathing the world in a tapestry of golds, pinks, and deepening blues. It was as if time slowed in this place—where the only things that mattered were the whispering winds, the flutter of petals, and the laughter shared between two souls, three including Staryus.

(Name) stood at the trailhead, hand in hand with Sylus while Staryus, their rambunctious Siberian Husky, barked excitedly at their feet.

Her hand was warm in Sylus’s, the tall wildflowers brushing against their legs, bending softly as the Siberian Husky raced ahead, barking gleefully, diving nose-first into patches of flowers, sending colorful bursts into the air.

“You sure this isn’t a date for him?” Sylus teased, casting a glance at their overexcited dog.

(Name) laughed, the sound like the ringing of tiny bells.

“You know, I think Staryus’s more excited about this trip than you are,” (Name) teased.

She winked playfully, swinging their joined hands, nudging Sylus with her shoulder.

Sylus chuckled low, his crimson eyes glinting. “He’s got competition then, sweetie.”

Crimson eyes glinting with affection—and something deeper, something raw and endlessly content. There was no need for words right now. The simplicity of it—the way her hair glowed under the sun, how she smiled at every small thing—was enough to make his heart ache in the sweetest way.

But then, (Name)’s expression shifted—mischievous and daring.

“Tag—you’re it!” she cried suddenly, tapping his chest with her fingertips before whirling around and darting into the sea of flowers.

For a heartbeat, Sylus stood there, stunned and amused, watching his wife sprint away with Staryus yipping after her like a loyal little accomplice. A slow, predatory grin curled across his lips.

“You little minx…” he murmured.

And then he took off after her.

(Name)’s delighted laughter echoed around him, the sound winding through the fields like music. She weaved between tall blossoms and ducked behind low shrubs, Staryus bounding at her heels like a co-conspirator. Every time she glanced back, Sylus was closer, closing in with predatory grace that was unfairly elegant for a man so effortlessly dangerous.

“Too slow, Sysy!” she sang teasingly, tongue sticking out before she vanished behind a patch of towering white blooms.

“My my, getting cocky, aren't we?” Sylus growled, amused and utterly smitten.

It only took a few strides for him to catch her.

Just when she thought she’d lost him by ducking behind a cluster of taller blooms, he lunged, arms wrapping around her waist from behind, lifting her clean off the ground with a spin before tumbling them both gently onto the soft bed of flowers.

Petals exploded around them in a colorful storm, swirling like living confetti, the rich scent of earth and blooms enveloping them.

(Name) gasped in surprise, laughing breathlessly beneath him, her eyes wide and shimmering. She lay pinned under Sylus, her hair fanned out like a halo, framed by the golds and rainbows of the field.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Sylus braced himself above her, one knee on either side, his snowy hair falling into his eyes. His gaze—deep, crimson, and full of something ancient and devastatingly tender—raked over her features like he was memorizing every freckle, every breath, every heartbeat.

(Name) felt her cheeks flush under the weight of that look.

“What…” she managed, smiling up at him. “What are you staring at?”

“You,” Sylus said simply, voice rough and unguarded.

With a soft twirl of his fingers, his Evol sparked to life—dark red and black mist weaving in the air. The nearby wildflowers trembled, drawn by his will. Slowly, he crafted a delicate crown from the blossoms, stitching them together with unseen threads of energy, weaving colors into a symphony meant only for her.

When he was done, he placed it carefully atop her head, tilting his head slightly as if admiring his work.

“My flower queen,” he murmured with mock solemnity, but there was real reverence beneath his teasing.

(Name)’s heart thudded wildly. She could barely breathe from the way he looked at her—like she was precious, like she was his whole damn world.

But she wasn’t one to be outdone.

Smirking, she grabbed a small blue bloom from beside them and, sitting up a bit, tucked it behind Sylus’s ear. She gave him a firm pat on the cheek.

“And for my big scary drago.”

Sylus let out a genuine, deep laugh, eyes crinkling with amusement. “A dragon, huh? I was hoping for something more domestic.”

“Well, with how you live, I don't think domestic suits you at all.”

"I'm flattered you think so highly of me, kitten," he grinned.

Then, with a mischievous glint in his eye, he collapsed fully onto her with a dramatic sigh, burying his face into the crook of her neck.

“Sylus!” (Name) shrieked, half-laughing, half-protesting as his weight pinned her down. “You’re crushing me, you big lump! Get off!”

“Mmm. Comfortable,” he rumbled smugly, snuggling closer.

“You’re like a whole boulder! You’re gonna break me in half!”

“In bed? Certainly.” He nuzzled into her, dropping lazy kisses along her throat. “You said I’m your dragon. Isn't this how dragons show their love to their mates?”

(Name) swatted at his back helplessly, giggling and squirming. “You’re a menace!”

He only chuckled, unbothered.

Finally, after much struggling (and many empty threats from (Name)), Sylus rolled off her with a smirk, dragging her onto his lap instead. She settled there, arms crossed and pouting half-heartedly, cheeks pink.

Around them, the field swayed with the gentle kiss of the wind. Overhead, the sky began bleeding into twilight, stars peeking shyly from the fabric of dusk.

Then (Name) spotted it—a strange stone structure a little farther down the path. Intricate and massive, it twisted like a frozen creature, a dragon’s spine etched into the land, its head carved nobly toward the sky.

“Look at that, Sysy…” she whispered, awe coloring her tone. “It’s… beautiful. Like something from a legend.”

Sylus’s smile softened, more bittersweet this time.

“It’s from an old story,” he said, his voice almost a murmur against her ear.

She tilted her head to him, curious.

“A dragon,” Sylus began, “cursed and sealed in the abyss. Alone. Silent. Lost. Until a sorceress came—bright and defiant. She freed him, taught him laughter. Love. For the first time, he wanted more than rage. But fate…”

His hand tightened slightly around hers. “Fate tore them apart. Death does not wait for lovers.”

(Name) swallowed around the ache rising in her chest. She reached down to thread her fingers through his. “That’s so sad...”

“It was never about the ending,” Sylus said. “It was about the fact they found each other at all.”

“I hope…” she whispered, fingers tightening on his, “I hope the dragon finds his lover again in the next life. Flowers and winds might mean goodbye… but whenever the wind blows, it carries a new purpose.”

Sylus’s heart clenched, painfully.

He pulled her even closer, pressing his forehead against hers, crimson eyes closed.

“Then this dragon will wait,” he said, voice trembling with a rare, naked emotion. “Every night, longing for the wind and petals to arrive.”

Their lips met—soft, lingering, burning with the weight of promises neither of them could voice fully. The kiss deepened, slow and savoring, a dance of heartbeats and hopes across lifetimes.

And just as the world could have faded into only them—

BAM!

Staryus plowed into them like a fuzzy cannonball, knocking them both down with a tumble of limbs, laughter, and wild barking. Petals rained down again, as Sylus and (Name) collapsed into helpless giggles, pinned once again—but this time by a very proud Husky.

Lying there in a mess of tangled limbs, flowers, and love, Sylus tightened his hold on (Name)’s hand, anchoring himself to this moment.

His home.

His heart.

His soul.

His forever.

HELOOOOO ASKDJA I AM okay first off all i am so sorry for not uploading for like almost a week (??) i was finalizing my exam so i didn't have time to publish anything and now that i've finished, i saw the new multi banner trailer and had to write this cuz GUYS SYLUS KISS CARD WE WON AGAIN OMG

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Would you write something for George where his wife and their children prepare something special for his birthday?

A/n: YESSSSS ( i love George )

The home was unusually quiet for a Saturday morning. Too quiet. And that alone should have made George suspicious.

But he was still fast asleep, his arm draped lazily over the pillow where you should have been. Instead, you were downstairs, orchestrating what could only be described as organized chaos.

The kitchen smelled of warm cinnamon and chocolate, the air thick with the aroma of freshly baked pastries and a cake that had taken three attempts to get just right—because little hands had kept sneaking tastes of the batter. The twins, Arthur and Leo, had been particularly difficult to wrangle, their excitement too much to contain.

“Mummy, is the cake done yet?” Arthur, the elder twin by exactly four minutes, bounced on his heels, his red hair sticking up wildly.

“Not yet, love,” You answered patiently, smoothing icing over the top. “But you can help me decorate it.”

Leo, the more mischievous of the two, was already dipping a finger into the bowl of icing when his sister, Lily, smacked his hand away.

“Mum said no tasting!” she scolded, her green eyes narrowing at her younger brother.

“I was testing it,” Leo huffed, licking his finger anyway.

From across the room, the youngest, little Nora, sat on the floor, clutching a crayon in her chubby fist, carefully drawing what she insisted was “Daddy’s face” on a large piece of parchment. So far, it looked more like an oddly shaped potato with freckles.

You glanced at the clock. You were running out of time. George was known for being a heavy sleeper, but there was only so long before the smell of food—or the suspicious lack of noise—would wake him up.

“Alright, team,” you said, clapping your hands together. “Positions, everyone! Leo, Arthur, get the balloons! Lily, bring me the presents, and don’t forget the one you made. Nora, sweetheart, are you finished?”

Nora beamed up at you. “All done, Mummy!”

You took one look at the drawing and smiled. It was perfect and you just knew George would love it.

The family scrambled to their places. The kitchen was now a scene of controlled excitement, the cake sitting proudly in the center of the table, presents neatly stacked beside it, and a banner hanging slightly crookedly above—hand-painted with the words: “Happy Birthday, Daddy!” Paint hand prints across the banner.

And just as they took their places, they heard footsteps creaking down the stairs.

“NOW!” Lily shouted.

George barely had time to blink before a barrage of confetti exploded in his face, courtesy of Leo and Arthur, followed by an enthusiastic, ear-splitting chorus of:

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DADDY!”

George, eyes still adjusting to the explosion of colors and noise, grinned as he took in the scene before him—you, his beautiful wife standing in the middle of it all, smiling at him with that look of amused exasperation you always wore when dealing with little troublemakers.

“Well, if this isn’t the best way to wake up,” he said, laughing as Nora toddled over and proudly thrust her drawing into his hands.

“’S you, Daddy!” she announced.

George studied the crayon masterpiece, his heart swelling. “Blimey, you got my good side and everything.”

As he knelt down to pull all four of his children into a big, warm hug, you came up beside him, slipping an arm around his waist.

“Happy birthday, love,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

George sighed contentedly, looking around at his family—his home, his world, his greatest gift of all.

“Best birthday ever,” he murmured, gaze softening you let your fingers run through George's hair.

"Just you me and the kids. Fred said he'll watch the shop."

[matsunoluvr]

୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ taking a steamy bath with rafayel

warnings: suggestive content, rafayel and my delusions, slight nudity (male), not proof read bc i’m too ashamed of what i wrote

character: rafayel

link to master list here~

author’s notes; written because of rafayel’s misty invitation card.

i don’t write smut because i think i’d pass away from embarrassment but this card? this card almost turned me to the dark side.

more under the cut :3

“Hey cutie, why don’t we wash off together?”

painting and baking are not similar. at all.

one is the creation of visual art and one is the creation of edible art

so i don’t know why you and rafayel are surprised when your cake just, exploded. well not the cake but the icing bag sure did.

rafayel claims it wasn’t his fault, but he tried to pipe the icing without cutting the fucking bag, so he was just squeezing the bag until it popped.

good job.

now you’re both splattered with bits of red icing - and if you squinted hard enough it looked as if you two where the prime suspects of a murder

you don’t even get mad at the now very messy cake - instead opting to laugh at rafayel who is clearly distressed at the icing covering his hands and upper half of his body

“Ugh, is this going to stain my shirt?”

of course, typical rafayel whining.

you notice some icing dripping down his jaw - down his neck - and grin, thinking of a new way to tease the distressed lumerian

so of course, rather than just wiping it off with a tissue, or your thumb, you decide that sticking out your tongue and gently lick his neck.

you lick his neck.

his neck.

rafayel immediately flushes, a delicious look of utter confusion, fluster and shock blend into one as you pull back

oh the emotions on his face are just priceless, or very hot.

depends if you like your men partially dumbfounded and partially (very) attracted simultaneously

“Hey… [YN] what are you doing?”

awwwwhjswhd he’s going to be turning so red, he flushes too easily for his own good

you notice the flush, how it spreads from his cheeks to the tips of his ears, down his neck and chest

silently you wonder if his nipples blush too

keep licking up small bits of the icing on him, caressing your tongue over his collar bones, make sure to suck off every last drop of that icing

the icing is sweet - or is it rafayel?

his breathing gets heavier, and small sighs of content leave his lips every now and then

his face is kind of scrunched into a frown, you’d think he was walking in baked beans with bare feet with how displeasured he looked (specific i know) but really he was just trying not to make more noises

one of his hands are covering his mouth, palm facing outwards, as if he were trying to muffle his own noises

unfortunately that concept doesn’t sit well with you (nor me) - so you decide to get a little more frisky…

as you kiss his neck, pop open the top button of his shirt and part it, dip down and nibble along his collar bone

his hands that were pushing you back are now just holding onto you, his eyes a little dazed, trying to focus on your face - but whenever you look up at him he gets too embarrassed and looks away

kiss, bite, lick at his freckles/beauty marks on his skin and he’ll shudder - trying to prevent any blood travelling south

now he’s letting out more noises, and his grip on you tightens again as he pants

when he finally pulls you up his face is dusted in a beautiful blush, eyebrows furrowed but his pupils are dilated - his chest is exposed showing you that his nipples do in-fact blush - horray!

pushing you back, rafayel takes in your figure, eyes scanning you from bottom to top before they focus on your eyes

“You’ve got icing all over you too… [YN]”

you sometimes forget how strong rafayel is - yet when he scoops you up bridal style and carries you to the bathroom you quickly dismiss the idea of a frail, unfit painter

he swiftly switches on the bath before you go back to absolutely ravaging the poor man

i’m talking shirt open, mouth-on-chest, eye rolling goodness

at some point your shirt and trousers were discarded on the floor - and his shirt was flung out the door as you two continue to caress each other

trail your fingers down his abdomen, trace his subtle v-line, tease the skin at the hem of his trousers before you pop open the button and slide them off

his eyes never leave your hands, you notice his breath hitching every time your nails stretch gentle against his skin…

dance your finger-tips around his very obvious ‘problem’ and listen to him whine disappointed as you pull away, opting to wrap your arms around the back of his neck

the bath finally fills and you both tumble into it, the warm water and soap soaking into your under garments

rub soap along his waist and abdomen and he’ll repress a small moan, causing you to comment on how sensitive his skin is

“In the water my senses are heightened, including how you feel against my skin…”

maybe it’s a lumerian thing? or maybe it’s a rafayel thing?

either way it’s enticing how easily he reacts to your ministrations so you’re not complaining

cup his face in your hands and caress his cheek with your thumb, rubbing against his smooth, milky skin and watch a small sigh tremble out of his lips

thumb at his bottom lip, and watch his eyes flutter slightly as he waits for more

slide your hands from his face to his chin and hold it, glide your hand down his neck then chest and watch his breathing visibly quicken with the rise and fall of his chest

“Your way of triggering my senses has only touched the surface…”

this comment makes you want to tease him more, i mean watching him shiver and twitch under your fingertips?

who doesn’t want to see rafayel like that??

so, as any sane person would do, you hook your fingers under his silver necklace and tug him towards you - both your half naked bodies sliding together as he groans at the contact

you lean into his collarbone and suck a hickey into his skin, tongue gliding over the bruise as he audibly gasps at the realisation

his eyes visibly glaze over with lust as you mark him up - his restraint snapping as he pushes himself on top of you

his arms cage you beneath him, and his gaze looks starved, as if just being with you you wasn’t enough he needed you to be his, and his alone

rafayel’s sudden surge of dominance jolts you as he holds your chin to face him

despite his dominance you see his fluster and arousal plastered across his face as he whispers out -

“Your body is warm, I like that.”

- before he finally leans in to kiss you

his lips are soft, a stark contrast to the intensity of which he kisses you

his hands are trailing all over your body, savouring the feel of your plush skin against his palms

you can feel him bite your bottom lip - eliciting a gasp from you as he slides his tongue between your lips

rafayel is lost in you, the taste of you, the feeling of you against him, the sounds you let out, the fragrant smell of the bath soap and the sight of you oh rafayel is absolutely gone

his grip on your waist tightens as he fully immerses himself in you, only thinking of you, only knowing you and what you taste like in that moment.

when you two finally break apart, there’s a small saliva bridge between your spit-soaked lips - and you can see just how flushed rafayel is

red lips, hickey-ed up, and you’re not daft enough not to notice something prodding prominently against your thigh…

“[YN], how about we test my senses a bit more…”

AN; again i wrote half of this last night and half of this when i woke up but when i was writing i had this sharp pang of shame like… this poor poor man doesn’t even know half of the shit i’d like to see him doing and also the fact that my parents migrated to an english-speaking country only for their daughter to use that power to write about a fictional character ANYWAYS I HEART RAFAYEL 🗣️

[candiiee]

ᴄʀᴜꜱʜ ✧.* part 2 here

summary: Izuku as your hallyway crush!!

warnings: none!

an: this takes place in middle school

How on earth could someone be this cute??? Like look at him! With his fluffy green hair and pretty doe eyes and freckles, Izuku Midoriya was your hallway crush.

Though one thing you didn't understand was why was he shunned? You had heard he was quirkless, but still. He had the cutest face ever, how could they not like him?? You kept your crush to yourself though. No need to get bullied. But that didn't mean you couldn't woo and endlessly pin for him.

Izuku always had the weird sense he was being watched. That was really weird, right? Who would want to watch him? He knew there were some people who deserved to be watched, like Kachan! With his strong quirk, and good looks. Izuku had no quirk, and zero good looks. So there was no way anyone watched him. With these thoughts circulating, he opened his locker, and was surprised to see a piece of paper, with a little heart drawn onto it, and a simple message.

you're really pretty. <3

It made a brilliant blush spread onto his freckled cheeks, this was a prank, right? No way a girl or guy, or anyone, could think he was pretty! It was impossible! He frantically glanced around the almost empty hallway, waiting for Kachan and his friends to jump out of a closet, filming him.

When that didn't happen, still a little wary, Izuku put the note into his pocket, the blush starting to fade. Well, if it wasn't a prank, it didn't hurt to keep it, right?

You watched him frantically glance around the empty hall, probably wondering who had left the note. You stifled a little squeal, glad to be able to make him blush. Honestly, it just made him even prettier. This was a pretty bold move, coming from you, but you wanted to! He should know he was pretty! He just made you want to squish his face, and make him blush even more!

Maybe some chocolates would do the trick? People liked that, right? Maybe you could ask him? The idea made you flush, how could someone even casually ask that? "Hey, what's your favorite chocolate?" That really sounded stupid. You didn't want him to think you were stupid. That'd be mortifying.

You paused, maybe some simple chocolate kisses could work? You mulled it over, finally deciding to do just that.

How.. did chocolate kisses get into his locker? There was no way someone could slip them into the tiny slot at the top. Unless.. they had a quirk? Maybe a teleportation one, capable of transporting small objects? Perhaps one that could change the properties of an object, making it small enough to get it through the slot? The possibilities were endless!

He started to mutter, or maybe they were creepy and knew his locker code? He flushed, if they knew his code, that meant that they paid attention to him as he opened his locker, and memorized his code! If they did, that was a little creepy, but the thought that they paid extra attention, made him a little giddy. He shook his head, don't be stupid! There was no way someone paid that much attention.

He noticed the note, skimming over it. It made his face explode, his face heating up.

here's some chocolates kisses cutey! <3

ps. I wouldn't mind giving you some real ones! <33

He made a few squeaking sounds, wondering if what he was reading was real. This was a trick, right? No one on their right mind would want to..kiss him, right? The idea was impossible!

You watched him, feeling ever so pleased with yourself. That note might have been a bit much, considering how red he looked. You watched him for a few more seconds, as the flush slowly faded. Which was a shame, honestly.

You wondered how long it would take till he figured it out. From what you saw, he was incredibly smart. Another reason why you liked him. Very rarely was someone good looking and had the intelligence. Plus he never called attention to himself. Though for some reason the teachers were happy to give him the spotlight when he clearly didn’t want it.

Another note.

you know, it’s really cool how much you know about heroes. <3

Izuku read the words, wondering as usual, if this was supposed to be a prank. It was well known how much he liked pro heroes. But it was considered creepy how well he knew them. Villainous even. He knew their weaknesses, their strengths, everything. But his secret admirer, if he could even call them that, thought that everything he knew about heroes was cool.

So this mystery person, thought he was pretty, and liked how much he knew about heroes. If such a person existed, he’d like to meet them. And make sure that this wasn’t a prank.

[undiagnosedcruelty]

Felix’s Cookies Have a Side Effect

Pairing: roommate!skz x GenderNeutral!reader

Genre: Crackfic

summary: Felix’s cookies were supposed to bring happiness—not turn you into a walking, talking aegyo machine.

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Content Warning: light cursing, crack humor, cursed levels of aegyo, food-based magic gone wrong, secondhand embarrassment, and the emotional trauma of eating unseasoned chicken.

Word Count: 2k

A/N: I WAS PHYSICALLY HURTING WHILE WRITING THE AEGYO PARTS, PLS DONT ATTACK ME FOR THE CRINGE💔💔💔

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EVERYTHING WRITTEN IS PURELY FICTION───NOTHING IS DIRECTLY RELATED TO REAL LIFE EVENTS.

You should have known better. You really should have.

The golden rule of living with eight chaotic men was simple: never consume anything without questioning its origins first. But when Felix presented you with a freshly baked cookie—eyes sparkling with excitement, dimples popping as he all but shoved the plate into your hands—you didn’t even hesitate.

Big mistake.

At first, everything seemed fine. The cookie was warm, gooey, and filled with just the right amount of chocolate chips. The moment it melted on your tongue, you understood why Felix had that smug, cat-who-caught-the-canary expression. The guy knew his baking could end wars.

But then.

It started as a tingle in your chest—subtle, almost pleasant. Then, a strange, fizzy bubbling sensation crawled up your throat, like soda pop had replaced your blood. Before you could even process the weirdness—

"Aegyo mode activated."

"Oppa~~~!" you whined, gripping Han’s hoodie sleeve with both hands, voice unnaturally high-pitched.

The entire room went silent.

Eight pairs of eyes locked onto you. Blinking. Processing.

Han, mid-bite into his own cookie, choked so violently he nearly fell off the couch. Changbin clutched his chest like he had been physically struck, eyes wide with sheer betrayal. Minho? Minho had already turned on his heel and was walking out of the room without a word.

"I—" you started, panic rising in your throat. But once again, the words that escaped your lips were not yours.

"Jisungieeee~~~," you cooed, latching onto his arm like a needy toddler. "I missed you sooooo much today! Did you miss me too~?"

A deep, horrified gasp left your mouth as your hands shot up to cover it.

The damage, however, was already done.

Han collapsed. Not in a dramatic way—no, literally, his knees buckled, and he hit the floor like a sack of potatoes, wheezing so hard he could barely breathe.

"NO—NO WAY," he gasped between bouts of laughter, clutching his stomach. "WHAT IS THIS? WHY IS THIS SO CURSED?"

Seungmin, who had been quietly scrolling through his phone a moment ago, tilted his head and observed you like some kind of foreign lab experiment. "...Are you feeling okay? Did Felix poison you?"

"I DIDN'T!" Felix wailed, his freckles scrunching up in distress. He bounced on his feet, looking wildly between you and Chan. "It was supposed to make them happy! I put extra sugar and—"

"YOU DID WHAT?!" Chan groaned, already dragging a hand down his face, his stress levels visibly skyrocketing. "Felix, what the hell did you put in them?"

Felix pouted, shuffling guiltily. "...Uhhh. Maybe a little enchanted vanilla extract?"

Chan narrowed his eyes, looking like he was seconds away from deleting existence itself. " Where exactly did you get enchanted vanilla extract!?"

Felix let out a nervous chuckle, avoiding eye contact. "Uh… I found this one magic shop online? The sketchy one next to the convenience store?"

Chan’s face blanked. "Felix. Please tell me you didn’t buy cooking ingredients from a store that also sells cursed objects and possibly hexed jewelry."

Felix winced. "... It was on sale?"

The room exploded into chaos.

”I THOUGHT IT WAS A SCAM OKAY AND I WANTED TO TRY IT!” Felix said on his defense, his hands shooting up in panic.

Hyunjin dropped to his knees, laughing so hard he had to clutch the couch for support. Jeongin had his phone out, already recording like a TMZ reporter documenting a celebrity scandal.

Minho, who had initially left, walked back in just to shake his head at you in pure, silent disappointment—before promptly turning around and leaving again.

Meanwhile, you were suffering.

Your body felt possessed. Every movement unnatural, exaggerated—your arms automatically folding into uwu poses like you had been forcibly programmed into a kawaii anime character. Every attempt to speak came out in a ridiculous, saccharine tone, as if you had become a walking, talking aegyo machine.

You clenched your fists, desperate to fight it. "Hyunjin, you—" Hyunjin raised a brow, intrigued.

"...You're sooooooo handsome and talented~~!"

A beat of silence.

"NOOOO!" you shrieked, slamming both hands over your mouth in horror.

Hyunjin’s eyes widened. His lips trembled. He backed away like you had just summoned an ancient evil. "I—I don't like this. Take it back."

Seungmin was crying with laughter, clutching Jeongin’s shoulder for support. "I've never seen something so cursed in my life."

"Felix," Chan exhaled, pressing his fingers into his temples like he was getting a migraine. "How long does this last?"

Felix chuckled nervously. "Ehhhh… maybe a few hours?"

"A FEW HOURS?!" You collapsed onto the couch, face buried in a throw pillow, your tiny, adorably furious hands gripping it for dear life.

Jeongin wiped a tear from his eye, still wheezing. "Wait—wait—so they're basically stuck in perma-aegyo mode?"

You lifted your head to glare at him. Or tried to. Unfortunately, your body decided to puff your cheeks out like an angry hamster instead.

Jisung lost it all over again, doubling over with laughter.

"I’m gonna die," Changbin choked, wiping at his eyes. "This is the best day of my life."

Felix, now feeling at least a little guilty, reached over to pat your head. "At least you're super cute?"

Your soul screamed inside your body.

Chan sighed so deeply it sounded like he was giving up on life. "Alright, Felix, you and I are figuring out how to reverse this."

Felix nodded furiously. "Right!" Meanwhile, the rest of the members? They were thriving.

Seungmin had already started editing the footage Jeongin took, adding dramatic background music. Hyunjin sat in a corner, staring blankly at the ceiling like he had just witnessed a full-blown exorcism.

Jisung? He had opened up a notes app and was typing every cursed phrase you had said for future blackmail.

From the other room, Minho’s voice rang out: "If this isn't fixed by tomorrow, I’m moving out."

Your life was ruined. And all because you trusted Felix’s cookies.

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Chan was a man of solutions—not problems. So, after gathering all the members into the kitchen, he stood at the center with arms crossed, looking like an exhausted single father trying to discipline eight feral children. His jaw was tense, his brows knit together, and his fingers tapped impatiently against his bicep as he exhaled through his nose. "Okay. We need to fix this. Felix, what do we know about enchanted vanilla extract?"

Felix, who had been nervously shifting from foot to foot, rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Uh… it's supposed to enhance positive emotions? Like, amplify happiness. But I think maybe… I added too much?"

"No shit," Minho deadpanned, cradling a mug of black coffee like it was the only thing keeping him from spontaneous combustion. He took a long, slow sip, his eyes half-lidded with pure resignation. "This entire situation is proof that I need new roommates."

Changbin, ever the problem solver, raised a hand. "So, what if we make them eat something really bitter? Would that cancel it out?"

Jisung perked up, eyes lighting with mischief. "Oh! Like how people shock themselves out of hiccups! Maybe we just need to surprise them."

Hyunjin gasped dramatically, placing a delicate hand over his chest like an aristocrat in distress. "We should SCARE them! Like… like drop a fake spider on them or—"

"Absolutely not." Chan shot him down immediately, the dad-mode in full force.

"Wait, wait," Seungmin interrupted, eyes gleaming with something sinister. "I saw this thing online where if you eat raw garlic, it resets your taste buds. What if we force them to eat something super strong?"

Chan turned to Felix with an arched brow. "How do we feel about this?"

Felix winced, looking like a puppy that had just been scolded for chewing a shoe. "I mean… it could work…? But if the magic is emotion-based, we might need something even stronger than just bitter food…"

"Like pain," Minho said casually, not even looking up from his coffee.

Silence. Everyone slowly turned to look at Minho. He blinked. "What?"

"hyung," Jeongin whispered, shaking his head in disbelief. "You scare me."

Before you could protest, Seungmin struck like a viper, shoving a whole spoonful of wasabi into your mouth without warning.

Your soul left your body.

The moment the fiery paste hit your tongue, your entire existence was reduced to a single, unrelenting sensation: PAIN. Tears instantly welled up in your eyes as a molten inferno exploded across your taste buds, searing every last ounce of joy from your being. Your back arched like you had been struck by lightning, fingers twitching violently.

The room went still. Everyone leaned in, watching with bated breath.

And then—

"Omooo, it's so spicy~~~!" you wailed, hands flapping dramatically like a wind-up toy. "My tongue is burniiiiiing~~! Oppa, save me~~~!"

Jisung collapsed.

Hyunjin face-planted onto the floor, muffling his screams of laughter into the hardwood.

Chan just dragged a hand down his face, looking like he aged ten years in ten seconds.

"Felix," he sighed, voice drained of all life, "get back in the kitchen. We need a Plan B."

After the failed wasabi experiment, Chan had officially had enough. He stood at the counter, gripping its edge like it was the only thing tethering him to sanity. His shoulders rose and fell with deep, controlled breaths, the way one might prepare before dealing with absolute nonsense—which, unfortunately, was his life now.

"Okay," Chan started, voice firm, arms crossed. "Clearly, pain isn’t working."

"You don’t say," you grumbled. Or at least, you tried to. Instead, what came out was: "Aiyaaaa, I’m so tiiiiiiired~~~ Someone carry meee~~!"

Jisung had to physically hold himself up against the counter, face buried in his arms to muffle the wheezing sounds escaping him. Hyunjin, still recovering from the previous attack on his sanity, simply turned to face the wall, as if that would somehow shield him from the horror.

Seungmin, still recording, zoomed in on Chan’s soul leaving his body.

"Felix." Chan turned to him, voice dangerously calm. "We need a new plan. Now."

Felix winced. "Okay, okay! So if the enchanted vanilla is boosting emotions, we need to counteract it with something that suppresses them!"

Jeongin raised a brow. "Like what? Depression?"

Felix perked up. "Actually, yes!"

The room went silent. Minho blinked. "You want us to make them depressed?"

"Not like that!" Felix waved his hands. "Just… we need to feed them something that dampens emotions, kind of like a sedative."

Seungmin hummed, tapping his chin. "So… bland food?"

Felix nodded. "Exactly! If we give them something so dull that it cancels out the hyper emotions, maybe it’ll balance things out!"

Jisung perked up. "I have an idea."

Fifteen minutes later, the kitchen was filled with the scent of… absolutely nothing.

Felix, Chan, and Seungmin had prepared a dish so mind-numbingly boring that just looking at it made everyone feel empty inside.

Boiled chicken.

Plain white rice.

Unsalted, unseasoned, completely dry steamed broccoli.

Not a single grain of salt in sight.

Han looked at the plate in pure horror. "This is evil."

Changbin poked at the chicken with his fork. "It’s so… pale. It looks like it’s never known happiness."

Hyunjin leaned down and sniffed it. "I smell nothing. This is worse than death."

Meanwhile, you sat at the table, arms crossed, pouting aggressively. "Hmph! Why do I have to eat this yucky foooood~~? I want something yummy~~!" Jisung physically had to leave the room.

"Eat." Chan shoved a spoon into your hands.

You glared at him. Tried to. Your body betrayed you again, making your eyes go big and watery. "Oppaaaa, feed me~~!"

Chan slammed his hands on the table. "EAT THE DAMN CHICKEN."

With great difficulty, you took a bite. The moment the flavorless abyss of boiled chicken touched your tongue, something shifted. Your fingers twitched. Your uwu posture straightened. The bubbling sensation in your chest fizzled out.

The room held its breath.

You swallowed. Slowly, cautiously, you opened your mouth and said, "That was disgusting."

Silence.

Then—

"IT WORKED!" Felix cheered, throwing his arms in the air.

Hyunjin collapsed onto the floor, hands covering his face. "Oh my god, it’s over."

Jisung was still laughing, but now in relief. "I was gonna have nightmares about that."

Chan exhaled the deepest sigh of his life. "Felix, never again."

Felix chuckled sheepishly. "No more enchanted ingredients. Got it."

Minho clapped a hand on your shoulder. "Let this be a lesson. Never trust Felix’s cookies."

You shuddered. "Never again."

Moral of the story: never accept food without questioning its existence.