#the splash arts were so good too........

[fizzyjacuzzi]

i'm still a little sad that the conan runner game got discontinued :(

[chosok-amo]

STARS AROUND SCARS : GOJO SATORU, GETO SUGURU

you were just trying to draw some stars on your boyfriend, not knowing simple things could be so hard when you have two needy boyfriends.

w/c : 8k (sorry, can't stop myself :'))

warning : lots, and lots of suggestive conversation, horndog! gojo satoru and fluff.

[☆] MASTERLIST

on a crystal-clear evening with the sky a vivid shade of blue, you and gojo satoru were enjoying a rare and cherished day off. the living room was bathed in the gentle, natural light of the setting sun, casting a warm glow over everything.

you were sprawled comfortably on the soft carpet, wearing a casual outfit that perfectly matched the relaxed vibe of the day: a short denim skirt paired with a white crop top, and ankle socks completing the look. gojo lay in front of you, his one arm lying flat as a pillow beneath his head, equally casual in a pair of short blue jeans and white socks, his posture relaxed and at ease.

while you two were savoring this peaceful downtime, your other boyfriend, geto suguru, was hard at work. he was busy attending an important meeting with the jujutsu higher-ups, his mind likely consumed by the demands of his role. it was a stark contrast to your serene afternoon, but you knew how dedicated he was, and it made these moments with gojo even more special.

colorful pens and crayon marks were spread out in vibrant disarray around you. the bright, vivid hues of the art supplies had left their playful imprints on the carpet, creating a whimsical, chaotic pattern that contrasted beautifully with the serene atmosphere of your cozy living room.

“oh, look at you,” you enthusiasly said as you carefully drew tiny stars around gojo's scars on his arm, adding a burst of color. “you’re like a living piece of the blue sky,” you giggled.

gojo chuckled, his lips curving into a charming smile at your words, “ah, so you think i'm a living piece of the sky, huh? well, i can't say i dislike that comparison,” he joked, his eyes watching your every move as you added the final touches with your colorful pens.

his gaze drifted to the colorful art supplies scattered around you, and his smile turned a tad more mischievous. “you're making quite a mess here,” he teased, gesturing to the mess of color covering the carpet, “i wonder what suguru will think when he sees this.”

you can't help but grin at gojo's comment, continuing to scribble playful little stars around his scars. “oh, come on,” you reply with a lighthearted roll of your eyes, “it's not a mess it's. . . creative expression.” you raise an eyebrow at his mention of geto, imagining the slight eye roll you'll get as he walks through the door and sees your vibrant ‘creative expression’ on the carpet.

“he'll probably just shake his head in faux disapproval,” you say with a soft laugh. “but secretly he'll think it's adorable,” imagining the look on suguru's face when he walked in to see the colorful chaos you'd created. “i'm sure he'll love it,” you replied sarcastically, rolling your eyes playfully. “he always appreciates a good splash of color.”

as you continued your whimsical artwork on gojo's arm, he couldn't help but watch you with a hint of amusement in his eyes. “you've got quite the artistic touch there,” he remarked, observing the swirling stars you'd added to his scars. “i'm starting to feel like a canvas.”

you flash him a cheeky grin, “well, you're the perfect blank canvas, with all these little scars.” your fingers move with careful precision as you artfully create tiny spirals and swirls around his scars with your pens. the way his skin was so pale and flawless made the scars stand out even more, creating a unique canvas for your colorful designs.

“and you're being such a good ’canvas’ too,” you chuckle, gently teasing. “no squirming, no complaints.” your eyes dart between the swirls and stars you've created on his arm, admiring your own work. “besides, it's not like you're complaining. you wouldn't be lying here letting me draw on you if you didn't enjoy it, would you?”

gojo chuckled, “you've got a point there. It does feel kind of nice, having a pretty girl like you drawing on me.” he glances down at his arm, observing the colorful designs you've created. “i just hope suguru doesn't get jealous,” he teases, a smirk playing upon his lips, “he might think I'm enjoying this a little too much.”

“but you do enjoy this a little too much,” you look at him for a second before looking down to where his hand lies under your chest— under your breast more likely. giving it a gentle squeeze from here and there since the start.

gojo chuckled, his smirk widening as you glanced down, well aware of the hand he had placed under you. “can you blame me, really? i have a stunning woman practically straddling my hand, and she's putting on quite the colorful show on my arm.”

his fingers involuntarily flex against your skin, the warmth seeping through your crop top, sending tingles down your spine. “especially when your hands are on me... touching me in all the right places.”

he gave your breast a light squeeze once again, his thumb slowly tracing a pattern on your skin as he met your eyes, a playful twinkle visible in his. “besides, i doubt you're complaining either, considering the location of your perch. but i swear, baby it's just for the art. completely art-related enjoyment,” he gives you a wink before chuckle.

“shut up!” you swat his hand lightly, trying to hide your embarrassment. “why do you have to say it like that? it sounds so inappropriate!” you then shift slightly, guiding his hand from beneath your chest to rest flat against the carpet, a playful scowl on your face. “just keep it where it belongs, okay?”

gojo chuckles, pretending to pout as you smack his hand away from your chest. “hey, i'm just being honest,” he replies with a smirk. “and besides, you were pretty much lying on my hand.” he lets his hand fall to the side, a hint of disappointment in his eyes, “now that you've moved it, i feel strangely empty,” he making a squeeze gesture with his hand, teasing you once more.

“it was nice having a little something to hold,” he adds, the corner of his mouth tugging upwards in a mischievous smirk. you roll your eyes at his pitiful expression, aware of his tactics to get what he wants. “don't give me that look," you chide playfully, “you're not getting that hand back, babe.”

yet, you can't help but feel a flutter in your stomach at the way he talks about wanting to hold something, his voice low and suggestive. “and quit being such a pervert,” you add, trying to mask the way his words affect you.

gojo feigns innocence once again, “me? a pervert? perish the thought,” he teases, the smirk never leaving his lips as he watches the subtle blush on your cheeks.

“i just appreciate beautiful things,” he continues, his eyes briefly roaming over your figure. “and you, my dear, are an absolute masterpiece.” his gaze drifts to your hips, admiring the way your short skirt rides up with each subtle shift. “and it's a damn good view from down here,” he mutters under his breath.

he reaches out towards where his hand was previously, only to snatch it back when you give him a firm look. “come on, don't be mean. i miss the company down there.” he gives you puppy dog eyes, his gaze pleading. “just one hand? for old-time's sake? i'll be good, i promise.”

you can't help but chuckle at his puppy dog eyes, the way they widen ever so slightly to make him look like a pouting child. “don't you start with that look,” you scold, trying to keep your resolve despite his adorable expression.

yet, as much as you enjoy the game of cat and mouse, you can't help but feel a tinge of yearning for his touch too. you bite your lip, considering his plea. “one hand,” you finally relent, “and you better behave yourself, gojo.” a sly smile dances on his lips as he hears your reluctant but consenting response, knowing he’s got you right where he wants you now. gojo slowly slides his hand underneath you once more, this time allowing his fingers to brush against your side, tracing the smooth curve of your waist.

his touch is light, like a whisper against your skin, as if he's testing his boundaries. “you’re so soft,” he whispers, his eyes darkened. “i don’t know how you manage to feel so soft and delicate, but also so strong and feisty at the same time.”

“stop tempting me!” you exclaim with a playful huff. “let me add these little stars to your arm without distractions!” you punctuate your demand with a light bite on his arm, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “i need to focus on my artwork, not on how you’re making this way more interesting than it should be.”

gojo can't help but chuckle at your attempted bite, his arm reflexively twitching under your teeth. “ow, ow, ow,” he exclaims in fake pain, “you're really getting into your role as a fierce artist, huh?”

his hand continues to slowly explore your side, his fingers gently tracing along the hem of your crop top, the tips dipping just slightly beneath the fabric. He watches the way you shiver under his touch with a mixture of amusement and fascination. “is that how you treat your canvas?” he teases. “well, if you weren’t such an irresistible muse, maybe I’d be more gentle,” you retort with a smirk. “but since you’re clearly enjoying this little performance, i might just have to give you an encore. how’s that for art?”

gojo lets out a pleased hum, clearly enjoying your playful banter. “oh, i'm enjoying it alright,” he replies, his hand still drifting lazily along your side, inching its way up to brush against the bare skin of your stomach, “i never knew being a muse could be this much fun.”

his touch becomes a little more insistent, his fingers now outlining the contour of your hip, enjoying the way your breath hitches at his touch. “keep going,” he encourages, “i want to see your entire masterpiece.”

your mind is a whirl of sensations. you try to focus on your work, continuing to draw the tiny little stars around gojo's scars, but his hand is a constant presence on your body, stealing your attention once again.

you try to keep your composure, to maintain the illusion of control, but the way his fingers glide across your waist, and the heat creeping up your spine betrays you. “i can't work like this,” you halfheartedly complain, your voice a little breathier than you had intended.

“come on, babe, let me just finish this,” you pouted, looking up at your boyfriend with a mix of frustration and affection. he responded with a gentle smile and a sigh of resignation. “alright, alright, i’m sorry,” he said, pushing himself up from the floor to give you a quick, tender kiss. afterward, he eased back down onto the floor, his free arm resting comfortably behind his head as he settled in with a relax expression.

gojo watches with a relaxed smile as you continue your work, his gaze shifting between the colorful stars and spirals on his arm and your concentrated expression. occasionally, his hand would sneak beneath your shirt or stroke against your arm, as if to remind you of his presence and the effect he had on you. you could feel the heat from his skin through your thin fabric, making you shiver each time he touched you.

“you're so focused,” he remarks with a hint of teasing, “it's quite adorable.”

just as you reach for another marker, the sound of the front door opening makes you look up. geto suguru has entered the apartment, his tall, lean figure filling the doorway.

“i'm home,” he says, his footsteps entering the living room after a beat. he looks surprised to find you and gojo sprawled on the carpet, surrounded by a chaotic array of colorful pens. his gaze flicks between the artwork covering gojo's arm to your flushed face. a small smile tugs at the corner of his lips.

“well, this is a colorful sight,” he observes, stepping closer to the carpet, his eyes drifting over the markings on gojo's arm. the white-haired boy grins up at him, his hand still resting underneath you, “well, our little artist here decided to use me as her canvas.”

geto's gaze shifts to you, raising an eyebrow in amusement, “quite the masterpiece you've created there, love,” he looks down on you before crouching beside you.

you look up, smiling at your other boyfriend before kissing him on the cheek, “how is your day, baby?” you ask, soft and gentle as you continue to lie on your stomach and draw on gojo's arm. geto smiles warmly, his eyes crinkling slightly at your affectionate greeting. he leans down to return the kiss gently, his hand brushing against your cheek.

“my day was fine, darling,” he replies, his voice smooth and soothing. he glances down at the artwork you're creating on gojo's arm, his gaze flickering over the bright, vibrant stars and spirals. “i see you've been keeping our dear satoru entertained,” he teases, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

gojo chuckles, “oh, I'm very entertained, trust me.” he gives your breast a gentle squeeze for emphasis. “our little artist has quite the touch.” geto chuckles, shaking his head at gojo's antics. he crouches down beside you, his gaze lingering on your focused expression as you continue your artwork.

he reaches out and threads his fingers through your hair, gently tousling it. “and how are you doing, my love?” he asks, his voice low and affectionate. you smile, “my day is good, satoru can't stop squeezing my boobs but it was good.”

gojo lets out a laugh, feigning innocence, “hey, i can't help it. they're soft and pleasant to touch.” geto rolls his eyes affectionately, giving gojo a playful nudge. “control yourself, satoru,” he says sternly, yet there's a hint of amusement in his voice. he shifts his attention back to you, his hand still carding through your hair. “ignore this shameless man here. i'm glad your day was good, despite his. . . antics.”

gojo pouts petulantly, his hand still resting on your hip. “i can't help it, they're just. . . right there,” he defends, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

geto huffs, shaking his head again at gojo's unabashed behavior. “you're incorrigible,” he mutters, though his voice lacks any real annoyance. he gazes down at you, a tender look in his eyes, “don't let him distract you too much, dear."

geto watches as you continue to draw on ojo's arm, a small smile playing on his lips. after a minute, he turns his attention to you, his hand reaching out to touch your shoulder gently.

“can i have a turn too?” he asks, his voice is soft but hopeful. gojo's eyes widen slightly in surprise, his hand pausing on your hip. “hey, hey. what's with this sudden request?” he asks, mock-jealousy in his tone. but you can tell by the flicker of interest in his eyes that he doesn't mind sharing the spotlight a bit. geto simply rolls his eyes, a hint of amusement at gojo's reaction.

“of course, babe. you can have a turn,” you reply, shifting your attention to geto without paying attention to gojo for a moment. gojo makes a mock cry of protest, but there's a hint of a grin on his face. “hey, no budging in line!”

geto chuckles at gojo's theatrics, shaking his head at his childish behavior. “oh, hush, you had your turn,” he teased. you smile at them both, enjoying the playful dynamic between the two. “don't worry, he won't take too long,” you reassure gojo, glancing over at him with a playful smirk.

gojo pouts, but there's a glimmer of enjoyment in his eyes at the sight of you interacting with both of them. as geto peels off his uniform, revealing his lean, toned body, your eyes widen in appreciation. you can't help but admire his muscular frame, and a smile spreads across your face.

gojo lets out a mock-disgusted groan, clearly annoyed at how easily he's been replaced in your affections. “oh, come on,” he whines, “you're drooling over him already?” geto chuckles at gojo's complaint, taking a moment to flex his muscles, clearly teasing both you and gojo.

you roll your eyes at gojo's pouting, “oh, shush. you just don't want to share the attention, do you?”

meanwhile, geto is thoroughly enjoying the fact that he has your undivided attention, his eyes sparkling with a mix of mischief and affection. “come on baby, lie here and let me put stars on you,” you giggle like a teenage girl who just got her first kiss from her crush. you pat a spot in front of you. geto grins at your giggling excitement, your enthusiastic invitation making him chuckle. he obliges, settling down in front of you, placing his head on gojo's stomach.

gojo, still feigning annoyance, huffs but can't help but also secretly enjoy the sight of the two of you together and the feeling of his boyfriend on his skin. “i feel like a piece of furniture here,” he complains jokingly. you puff a laugh, “come on, baby, don't be like that. i spend hours putting all these little stars on you,” you give him a peck on the lips, “i'll let you put stars on me too if you let me do him first, hm?” you caressing his arm that is now covered in colorful stars lovingly.

gojo's expression softens as you reassure him, his annoyance melting away under your gentle touch. “well, when you put it that way. . .” he mutters, reluctantly agreeing to your suggestion. he looks down at his arm, admiring the colorful stars you've drawn on it. “alright, fine,” he concedes, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, “but you're not allowed to complain if the stars i draw are messy.” you shook your head, “i won't baby.” you give him another peck on the lips and arm before smiling at him, your eyes sparkling as you look at him.

“you're such a baby, toru,” geto comments before rolling his eyes.

gojo huffs at geto's comment, playfully sticking his tongue out. “i'm not a baby,” he protests, his pout reemerging. “i just happen to appreciate the work my lovely artist is doing.”

you chuckle at their banter, amused by their sibling-like rivalry. “let him pout, babe,” you say to geto, patting gojo's stomach gently, “it's endearing.”

geto shakes his head, amused by gojo's sulking, “you're such a drama queen, satoru.” gojo sticks out his tongue again, clearly reveling in the banter. “oh, shut up. i'm just adding some entertainment to this little art session.” you try to hold back a laugh, enjoying the bickering between them. “alright, you two, can you behave for a little bit so i can finish?”

“besides,” you continue, grabbing a marker and shifting your attention to geto's bare torso, “he's just jealous he's not the center of attention right now.” you begin tracing a few stars on geto's chest, your fingertips grazing over his skin as you work.

geto lets out a content sigh as you begin drawing on his chest. his muscles flex slightly under your touch, a soft hum escaping his lips. he glances over at gojo, who is watching the two of you intently. “jealous, huh?” he teases, a lazy smirk on his face. “is his giant ego feeling threatened again?”

gojo huffs, but there's a playful gleam in his eye. “hey, i'm not jealous,” he defends, “i'm just. . . observant? and i happen to notice when i'm not the center of attention,” he pout, slightly rolling his eyes, realizing how stupid he sounds.

he pokes geto's side, causing him to jump slightly, still ticklish even in his relaxed state. “don't forget who's the real star here,” he adds, giving you a wink. geto swats away gojo's hand, rolling his eyes at his friend's antics. “yeah, yeah, keep reminding us all how great you are,” he quips back, his tone affectionate yet teasing.

you can't help but chuckle at their banter, finding it endearing how they can go from flirting with you to bickering like siblings in a matter of seconds. you continue working on geto's chest, tracing swirling patterns and stars over his smooth skin. geto's gaze drifts up to you, admiring your focused expression as you draw. he smiles, enjoying the feeling of your touch on his skin.

“you really love doing this, huh?” he comments, his voice is soft and affectionate. his purple irises never leave your face, drinking every second of you drawing little stars around his scars.

you glance up at him with a mischievous smile, “oh, absolutely. it’s not every day i get to add a touch of sparkle to such a handsome canvas. besides, watching you enjoy it so much makes it even more fun.” you lean in closer, your fingers brushing lightly against his skin as you continue your artwork. “i might just make this my new favorite hobby,” you give his skin a little kiss.

gojo, sensing an opportunity to steal some of the spotlight back, pipes up, “hey, what about me? I let you paint all over me too, ‘yknow.” you glance over at gojo, a coy smile playing on your lips. “oh, don't worry, baby. i didn't forget about you for even a moment.”

you reach over and give gojo's arm a reassuring caress, your fingers tracing over the colorful stars. “and you look adorable with all these stars on you.”

gojo grins, pleased that he's regained a bit of your attention. geto rolls his eyes affectionately, commenting, “there he goes again, always needing the attention.” gojo sticks out his tongue at geto in response, before turning his gaze back to you. “hey, it's nice to be appreciated, ‘yknow,” he whines, pouting like a child.

you laugh at his childish behavior, shaking your head in amusement. “oh, you're always appreciated, you big baby,” you say, giving him another affectionate caress.

geto chuckles, commenting again, “he's such a spoiled brat.” gojo, fully embracing his bratty attitude, puffs out his chest in mock pride. “damn right i'm a spoiled brat. the brat who gets all the attention.” geto rolls his eyes again but can't help but laugh at gojo's antics. “and he's proud of it too. such a child.”

you shake your head, continuing your work on geto's chest, enjoying the friendly banter between the two. gojo rolled his eyes before drifting his eyes to your bare thigh as you were still lying on your stomach, making his face eye-level with your thigh. gojo's eyes narrow upon noticing the bare skin of your thigh, exposed as you continue working on drawing on geto's chest. he can't help but admire the sight, his gaze fixated on the soft skin.

gojo's hand slowly creeps its way over, tracing a lazy pattern on the inside of your thigh, just above behind your knee. you stop for a moment to turn your head and see what gojo were doing before looking at geto who's already looking at him at the same time.

“just let him be, at least he's quiet,” you tell the boy before he gets a chance to throw another comment. a soft laugh escaped geto's lips, chuckles at your comment as he watches gojo's hand travel farther up your thigh, his fingers tracing absentmindedly over your skin.

he can tell from the look on gojo's face that he's completely distracted and fixated on your thigh, completely entranced by the sight before him. “oh, he's definitely not quiet,” geto comments, a small smirk on his face, “he's just drooling silently.” gojo's fingers continue to trace gently over your skin, his touch becoming more purposeful as he slowly inched his way upward. his eyes are half-lidded, his attention fully focused on the exposed skin of your thigh.

he doesn't even bother to respond to geto's comment, too lost in the sight of your bare leg, his mind wandering to all the things he wants to do to you. you shook your head, a defeated sigh leave your lips, “he's such a pervert.” geto simply chuckled at your comment, his gaze flickering over to gojo's fixated expression. “that's an understatement," he quipped.

geto nodded, his eyes following gojo's movements with a mix of amusement and resignation. “that he is. always fixated on the most inappropriate things.” he watches as gojo's hand moves higher, now gently caressing the sensitive skin just above your knee. “i swear, he has the tact of a child sometimes.”

gojo, still entranced by your thigh, finally snaps out of his daze upon hearing your comment. “baby, I'm not a pervert,” he protested, almost whining, though his voice lacked any real conviction, “i'm just. . . appreciating the view.” geto couldn't help but roll his eyes at gojo's weak defense. “yeah, sure you are,” he snorted, not buying it for a second.

he watched as gojo continued to caress your thigh, his fingers gently tracing patterns on the soft skin. “appreciating the view, my ass,” he repeated, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“more like salivating over it like a starving man,” he added, shaking his head in amusement. geto rolls his eyes, “‘appreciating the view’ with his eyes all glazed over and not a single coherent thought running through his brain.“

gojo huffs, but he doesn't protest further, knowing that there's a hint of truth in geto's words. his hand continues to wander up your thigh, his touch feather-light as he slowly inches towards the hem of your skirt. geto chuckled again, shaking his head at gojo's lack of denials.

“exactly,” he agreed, a smirk on his lips, “he's just a man controlled by his primal urges. and right now, his primal urge is to cop a feeling.” gojo pouts a little, but can't argue with geto's assessment. his hand slowly travels higher up your thigh, his touch becoming bolder, his fingers tracing the edge of your skirt, gently inching under the hem. “baby it's ticklish,” you move your leg the gojo's touch slightly.

gojo pauses his movements, hearing your protest. he glances up at you, a look of innocent concern on his face. “ticklish, huh?” he says, his hand still hovering just under the hem of your skirt, his index finger tracing small circles on your thigh.

gojo feigns innocence, “oops, my bad. i was just... exploring.” geto snorts, clearly amused by the interaction. “yeah, ‘exploring.’ that's one way to put it.” gojo rolled his eyes, feeling called out, but he can't deny the truth in geto's words. his finger continues to trace small circles on your thigh, his touch a mixture of feather-light and purposeful.

“i can't help it,” he defends, his voice sounding almost whiny, “you just have such soft skin, and... well, it's right there, begging to be touched." geto laughs again, shaking his head at gojo's feeble excuse. “right, it's all my fault. my skin just magically calls out to your wandering hands,” you mock, the sarcasm in your tone clear.

despite your sarcastic remarks, your expression holds a hint of amusement, clearly enjoying the banter. you glance down at where gojo's hand is gently caressing your thigh, his touch still light and teasing. “you're like a dog with a bone, ‘toru. once you get ahold of something, you just don't know how to let go.” gojo pouts again, feigning offense at geto's dog comment. “hey, i'm not a dog,” he replies, his hand still wandering higher up your thigh, almost reaching the bare skin under your skirt.

“and i can let go... when i want to,” he adds defiantly, “i just happen to really enjoy holding onto this particular... bone.” you rolled your eyes before sighing, continue to draw a stars around geto's torso “i swear I'm gonna die young with all of this headache you two gave me.” geto chuckles at your exasperated comment, enjoying the banter between the three of you. “hey, don't blame us for the inevitable early grave,” he replies with a smirk, “we're just adding a bit of excitement to your life.”

gojo, not wanting to be outdone, chimes in with a wink, “yeah, think of us as your personal stress relievers.”

you snort a little before nodding your head, sarcastically replying, “yeah right, more like adding more stress.” geto chuckles, “aw baby, don't be like that, you know from the start we don't promise you this relationship will be stress-free,” he pushes himself upward to give you kisses before lying back.

you playfully roll your eyes, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you continue to draw the stars on his torso, feeling his muscles flex underneath your touch. “oh, i know,” you reply, shaking your head in mock resignation. “but a girl can still hope, can't she?”

“yeah, sorry to break it to you, princess,” gojo jokingly says, his hand now gently gliding from your thigh to your hip, caressing the skin just above the hem of your skirt.

“but you knew what you were signing up for when you agreed to date us,” he adds, his voice laced with playful confidence. you take a deep breath, “that sucks,” supporting your face with one hand as you lazily draw on geto's skin. geto smirks, enjoying your half-hearted complaint. “yeah, it's pretty rough,” he replies sarcastically, “having two handsome and charming boyfriends who love and adore you. oh, the hardships you face.”

gojo pipes up, his hand continuing to explore your hip bone under your skirt, “oh, shut up. she should feel honored to have us.” you let out a laugh, shaking your head at their banter. despite your faux complaints, you secretly loved their back-and-forth banter, finding their playful bickering amusing.

“oh, trust me, i feel incredibly honored,” you retort with an affectionate eye roll, “having two massive, needy babies fighting for my attention all the time. it's a dream come true. now my mansion’s ballroom is a bit too crowded, and my collection of rare art pieces isn’t fitting in my oversized vault,” you sarcastically joke.

gojo and geto both roll their eyes playfully at your sarcastic comment, but they can't help but smile at your clever quip. geto laughs, shaking his head. “oh, yeah, it's such a burden having two wealthy, successful sorcerer— not to mention, the strongest in your life. your poor bank account is suffering.”

gojo chimes in with a grin, “and your poor heart must be strained from all the love and affection we shower on you.” you feign a sigh, placing the back of your hand on your forehead dramatically. “oh, the struggles i face,” you say dramatically, your voice dripping with fake sadness. “having two handsome, charming men constantly pestering me for attention and showering me with gifts. it's absolutely terrible.”

gojo and geto exchange a knowing glance, both aware that you're laying on the sarcasm heavily. but they also know that deep down, you secretly love the attention they give you.

“oh, poor princess indeed,” geto says, shaking his head in mock sympathy. “it must be exhausting having two devoted boyfriends who worship the ground you walk on,” gojo sympatheticly said, tapping your ass. you let out a sigh, “i can't do anything about it, can i?” geto and hojo both give you playful grins, shaking their heads in unison.

“nope, not a damn thing,” gojo replies with a shrug, his hand still slowly tracing patterns on your hip under your skirt. geto chimes in, “you're stuck with us, princess. no backsies.”

“poor me,” you shook your head in defeat.

you tap geto's abs before changing your position to sitting, “now my turn,” you demand, giving the two boys a marker. pulling your crop top out of your body, leaving you on nothing but your pink bra and lying on your back on the floor. both boys stare at you with an almost predatory gleam in their eyes, clearly enjoying the sight before them. they take the markers from you, their gaze hungry and appreciative.

gojo twirls one of the markers in his hand, a sly smile on his lips, “oh, princess, you spoil us.” geto nods in agreement, his eyes roaming over your body, “you're giving us a blank canvas to work with. this should be fun.” both boys move closer to you, each taking one side of your body. gojo's hand begins tracing lines on your stomach, his touch firm and purposeful, while geto's fingers glide over your sides, drawing swirling patterns with the marker.

they work in tandem, their eyes occasionally locking with each other as they take in the sight of your body, their markers moving in perfect sync across your skin. “you're such a good canvas,” gojo murmurs, his voice low and husky.

“i know my love, now shut up and do your job,” you pinch his cheek softly. gojo and geto both chuckle at your demand, but they comply, focusing their attention back on your body, their fingers and markers gliding across your skin, their movements precise and deliberate.

“yes, ma'am,” gojo replies with mock obedience, his lips curving into a smirk. “we'll shut up and get back to work,” geto adds, his hand moving over your ribs, tracing small stars with his marker. they continue to draw on your bare skin, their eyes fixed on their task, their markers moving quickly as they fill in different areas. they occasionally glance at each other, exchanging secretive grins as they admire their work.

“you know,” gojo murmurs, his marker tracing the line of your hip bone, “we could do this every night if you wanted.” you raised your eyebrows, with a little smirk on your lips your replies, “or we could go to a tattoo shop and make this permanent,” you jokingly tells your boyfriends. gojo and geto both pause for a moment at the mention of tattoos, their eyes flickering towards each other. they exchange a glance, contemplating your suggestion.

gojo grins, the idea is clearly appealing to him. “you know, that's not a bad idea.” he says, returning his attention to drawing on your body. geto nods, a smirk playing on his lips. “yeah, we could mark you as ours permanently. make sure everyone knows who that gorgeous body belongs to.” they continue their work, their markers gliding across your skin, their touches becoming more possessive and claiming with every stroke.

“wouldn't it be hot?” gojo asks, his hand tracing an intricate pattern on your ribs, “you walking around covered in our marks, a permanent reminder that you're ours, body and soul.“ you chuckle, slightly amused by their reaction to your joke, “yeah, that's not gonna happen.” gojo and geto both pout playfully at your rejection of the idea, their eyes filled with mock disappointment.

“aww, come on,” gojo whines, his marker continuing to draw lines on your upper body, “why not? you'd look even hotter with a bunch of our tattoos all over you.” geto nods, a smirk playing on his lips, “yeah, imagine how jealous everyone would be, seeing all those ink marks on your body, knowing they can never touch you the same way we can.”

you snort, shaking your head while your eyes are focusing on the ceiling, “you're delusional, baby, nobody gonna feel that way.” both boys feign offense at your comment, their expressions hurt and indignant. “what do you mean, nobody's going to feel that way?” gojo protests, his marker pausing on your lower abdomen. “you're like, the most gorgeous person alive. of course, people would be jealous.”

geto nods in agreement, his fingers tracing a star on your hip, “yeah, you underestimate your own allure. you're a walking dream, princess.” you breathe a hearty laugh, ruffle your boyfriends' hair, “you guys are so sweet, you're making me feel good about myself, no wonder why i love you two so much.”

they continue their work, their markers and fingers moving in synchronized harmony, filling in the spaces on your body with their artwork. gojo glances up at you, his eyes meeting yours, his expression soft and loving, “you know we adore you, right? every inch of you, inside and out.”

geto nods, his gaze drifting over your body, appreciating every line and contour. “you're our world, princess. we're hopelessly smitten with you.” their words hang in the air, their sincerity and admiration for you clear in their voices. their markers continue to glide over your skin, their touch gentle and reverent.

they finish up their artwork, their markers making a few final strokes before they both sit back and admire their work. they move their gazes over your body, taking in every mark and design they've made. “there,” gojo says, a satisfied smile on his lips, “perfect.”

geto's eyes roaming over your body. “damn, you look even sexier covered in our artwork.” they both take a moment to appreciate their handiwork, their eyes roaming over your body, their expressions filled with pride and satisfaction. the artwork they've drawn on your skin is intricate and beautiful, a masterpiece of their combined effort.

“you really do look amazing,” gojo murmurs, his hand gliding over your hip. “we did a damn good job,” geto says, his gaze lingering on your stomach, “our masterpiece in the flesh."

you look down at the artwork adorning your skin, your eyes widening with genuine admiration. a playful smile spreads across your face as you turn to face them. “well, i must say, you two make quite the artistic team. if this is your idea of a masterpiece, i’d say you’ve outdone yourselves. i might have to start charging for these kinds of commissions!” you give them both a teasing wink, clearly impressed by their work.

you flash them a sly grin and say, “alright, art critics, i need you to snap a photo of your masterpiece. i’m sure you’ll want to show this off as much as i do. so, let’s get that camera ready—this level of artistry deserves to be immortalized, don’t you think?” uou strike a dramatic pose, making sure the artwork is front and center.

they both burst out laughing at your playful words, their eyes gleaming with amusement. they're both clearly pleased by your praise and appreciate your playful banter. gojo grins widely, his hands already moving to fish out his phone. “oh, princess, you have no idea. this isn't just a masterpiece, it's a work of art that should be displayed in a museum."

“damn right,” geto agrees, his eyes still wandering over your body, admiring the artwork he and gojo created. he leans over to grab his own phone, ready to capture the perfect shot of you and their masterpiece. “no need to tell us twice, we’ll document this masterpiece, alright. say cheese.”

gojo and geto both aim their phones at you, framing the artwork on your skin with the camera lenses. they snap a few shots, each from a different angle, making sure to capture every intricate detail of their masterpiece. gojo grins as he reviews the pictures on his phone, his eyes roaming over the image with approval. “damn, we've really outdone ourselves this time,” giving the boy beside him a high-five.

geto nods in agreement, admiring the pictures on his own screen. “that's an understatement. you look even hotter than i could have imagined.” they can't help but laugh as you strike a dramatic pose, clearly enjoying yourself. “that's right baby, just like that, look at you, you look like you're ready for a magazine cover,” gojo chuckles to himself, his finger hovering over the camera button.

“or the cover of a high-end art book,” geto adds, a smirk on his lips. “alright, smile pretty for the camera, princess.” you flash a radiant smile, channeling your inner supermodel as you strike a pose, knowing full well that you look absolutely fabulous.

gojo and geto both snap more pictures, clearly enjoying capturing your beauty and the artwork covering your body. “damn, you're a natural,” gojo says, studying the photos on his phone. “we should frame these and hang them up in our rooms.”

“oh? we're gonna hang it up in our rooms?” you ask, a glint of something flashing in your eyes. “well, we better make it worth it.”

so locking your eyes with them, slowly and sensually you take off your pink bra, holding it between your fingers while your other hand covers your breast. playfully, you throw your bra at them before laughing. gojo and geto's eyes widen in surprise as you seductively remove your bra and playfully throw it at them. they both can't help but grin, their gazes immediately locking onto your bare chest.

“damn, baby, you really know how to make a statement,” gojo murmurs, his eyes drinking in the sight of your exposed skin. geto smirks, catching your bra in his hand and hanging it around his neck, his eyes roaming over your chest. “you definitely make hanging up those pictures worth it.” you are lying on your side with your elbow kneeling on the carpet to support your head while your other hand is still covering your bare chest.

“come on, boys, take a picture of me,” you smile at them. they both raise their phones again, their gazes never leaving your form as you strike yet another provocative pose. their hands hold the camera steadily, their fingers poised over the camera button, their eyes still fixed on your body.

“fuck, you look incredible,” gojo breathes, his eyes roving over you, taking in every inch of flesh on display. geto grins, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, “you’re making us want to drop these phones and pounce on you right now, princess.” they both snap a few more photos, focusing on different parts of your body, capturing every curve and contour in all its naked glory. their expressions are filled with desire and admiration as they take in the images on their screens.

“you're a goddamn goddess,” gojo murmurs, his eyes lingering on a particularly risqué photograph of you before adding, “and remember to stay just like that, princess.”

“agreed,” geto nods, his eyes roaming over the photo of you, clearly appreciating every detail. “this is something to keep in our private collection for sure.” you give them a sultry smile, “well, if you’re this impressed now, just wait until you see what i have in store for our private collection. keep those photos safe—I’m planning to give you both plenty more to admire.” you strike a playful pose, teasingly adjusting your position to give them an even better view. gojo and geto exchange a knowing look, their eyes lighting up with excitement and anticipation. they clearly love your playful attitude and the promise of more to come.

“oh, we'll be keeping these photos very safe,“ geto chuckles, his eyes never leaving your body as he continues to take pictures, “and we'll be eagerly awaiting whatever else you have in store for us.”

gojo smirks, his gaze roaming over your body once again, “you really know how to work a camera, princess.“ you look up to them, giving your boyfriends doe eyes as you remove your hand— now fully flashing them your breast. “don't stop now,” you murmur. the tip of your feet moving slowly to geto's abs, purposely open your legs knowing you are wearing nothing underneath your skirt except your pink underwear.

gojo and geto both freeze, their eyes widening as you slowly stretch your feet to press against geto's stomach, your legs opening to reveal your skimpy panties. they're both momentarily speechless, their gazes fixated on your seductive pose.

“holy hell,” gojo gasps, his hands clenching around the edge of his phone as he struggles to take more pictures. “fuck, princess, you're incredible,” geto breathes, his voice low and thick with desire as he looks down at your legs. they both start snapping more pictures, their hands shaky as they try to capture every moment of your seductive display. gojo's eyes dart down to your open legs, his tongue darting out to moisten his lips as he admires the sight between your thighs.

“can't believe how damn shameless you are,” he groans, his gaze still fixed on your body. geto nods in agreement, his fingers gliding over his phone screen, “you're driving us crazy, princess. you know just how to push our buttons.“ gojo's hand moves quickly, his fingers grasping the edge of your skirt and giving it a firm tug, revealing the skimpy pink fabric of your panties. he quickly raises his phone and snaps a picture, his gaze fixated on the lacy material that's barely covering your most intimate parts.

“fuck, you're a sight to behold,” he mutters, his voice low and gravelly.

geto leans closer, his eyes locked on the photo on the phone screen as he adds, “and I didn't think you could get even hotter, but here we are.” they both can't help but admire the photo, their gazes taking in every detail of your exposed skin and the lacy underwear— already planning on their mind about making it as their home screen. gojo's fingers move over the phone screen again, zooming in to get a closer look at the delicate fabric clinging to your skin.

“you really know how to make things difficult for us, princess,” he mutters, his eyes tracing the contour of your hips and thighs outlined by the thin material. geto chuckles, a smirk on his lips as he adds, “we're not gonna be able to concentrate on anything else tonight after seeing this.”

“now, now, wanna try to make me see stars?” your toe slowly moving to the contour of geto's abs making their eyes light up at your words, their lips curving into wicked grins. they both know exactly what you're implying, and they're both more than willing to make it happen.

gojo's gaze darkens, a sly smile on his lips as he sets his phone down. “oh princess, you don't have to ask us twice,” he replies, stepping closer. geto also sets his phone down, a similar expression on his face as he moves closer to you. “we'll make you see the whole damn universe, sweetheart.”

“why don’t we take this party to the bedroom?” you suggest with a playful glint in your eye. gojo and geto both nod in agreement, their eyes filled with desire and eagerness. “i like the way you think, princess,” gojo murmurs, his hand already reaching out to take yours, his touch firm and possessive. geto brushes a strand of hair from your face, his fingers lingering on your skin. “lead the way, sweetheart,” he says, his voice low and suggestive.

they help you to stand from the floor. you take their hands, holding their finger before pulling them toward your shared bedroom. “come on, boys,” your voice is soft, sensual, like a siren singing for their prey. you turn around, once again flashing them your bare chest— a jeans skirt and a pair of socks are the only fabric on your body.

their gazes roam over your body as you flash them, their eyes hungrily taking in your bare chest, the exposed skin on your thighs and legs, and the soft fabric of your socks. they both make appreciative noises, their grips on your hand tightening slightly as they follow you towards the bedroom. gojo's eyes roam over your body, his voice low and gruff as he says, “you really know how to make an entrance.”

geto smirk, his gaze still fixated on your curves as he adds, “we're gonna have so much fun with you.” you reach the bedroom, and enter the room, the air thick with anticipation. the boys are right behind you, their hands still intertwined with yours, their eyes still trailing over your nearly naked body with hungry gazes.

gojo closes the door behind him, a sly smile on his lips as he locks it. “now that we're alone, princess,” he says, his voice dripping with desire, “we can focus all our attention on you.”

[daycourtofficial]

I got cursed like Eve got bitten

Pairing: Azriel x Rhysand’s sister!reader | WC: 1.2k | warnings: none

Summary: reports of a rare powered fae popping up in Illyria send Azriel and Rhysand on a journey through the past, unraveling a truth they thought long buried

Next part | Masterlist

Velaris was beautiful tonight. Like most nights, the stars shone over the small city, their incandescent light bouncing off the Sidra, making the surface of the water sparkle as the current rippled. The frigid water looked so dark beneath that light, its depths unknown to those who walk across the bridge. 

Rhyasnd watched the stars from his balcony, the violet in his eyes catching a glint under their shine, glass of whiskey in his hand. Feyre and Nyx were spending the evening at an art class across town, a class for children to “paint the stars” as Feyre had said. They would be spending the evening with a dozen or so other small children, his mate and their child on a blanket gazing up at the stars and trying to recreate what they saw onto a tiny canvas, no doubt splattering paint everywhere in the process. He had debated going - he loved the night sky, a fondness he’d had since childhood that carried well into his adult life. He would spend the night telling Nyx about the various constellations, what they mean, and how their planet spins in orbit around a star.

He had, instead, decided to spend his evening in his office, a note on his desk urging him to spend the evening alone until the one person who would understand arrived. He stood on the balcony waiting, his skin growing colder as the night settled in. His eyes traced the patterns of the constellations - the patterns of stars he spent many decades devoting himself to in private. The same stars he prayed to most nights, the changing of the constellations doing little to deter his devotion.

Tonight he needed their guidance, needed their all-seeing gaze once more. He felt his stomach churn as his thoughts whirled, wanting to hurl abuses at the stars above him. He knew they had all the answers, but unwilling or unable to answer his questions, he wasn’t sure which.

His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and memories, too preoccupied to notice the soft flap of wings nearby or Azriel’s soft descent on the balcony next to him. 

Azriel took in his brother’s appearance as Rhys failed to notice him - the High Lord seemed off in some way. Rhys was the harder of his two brothers to pinpoint. Cassian wore his heart on his sleeve, Azriel hardly had to look into Cassian’s big, puppy dog eyes before he knew exactly what troubled him. Rhys was harder - the youngest of all three of them, carrying the weight of everyone’s pleas for help and guidance, one that has led Rhysand to shoulder more than his fair share of burdens. His shoulders sagged as he leant over the balcony, as if he wanted to curl in on himself-

“Stop.”

Azriel blinked once. Twice. 

“Stop what?”

Rhys rolled his eyes, “stupid was never a good look for you.”

Azriel’s hummed as a soft breeze blew by, ruffling the skin of his wings. He moved his eyes away from Rhys, looking toward the Sidra instead. He could hear it from here - the water moving downstream, soft splashes as the current met the bank. He spent most of his nights gazing out over the river, hoping to see anything within its icy depths. 

“Rivers keep going, and we keep going.”

That soft voice echoed in his mind, the memory feeling all at once like several lifetimes ago and only a handful of moments prior. 

“Az.”

Rhys’s voice pulled him from a life so far away, it felt like he traveled galaxies to come back to the present. Rhys’s voice was soft as his violet eyes took in his brother. “There’s a report on my desk.”

Rhys paused, the shadowsinger unable to figure out what could be in this report that had his High Lord so rattled that he had asked him to come as quickly as possible. His shadows moved toward the desk, the black wisps moved across the page before Azriel had even moved, reading the contents of it for themselves but not moving back to Azriel.

That put Azriel on edge.

Rhys nodded his head towards the desk, prompting Azriel to move towards the large oak furniture. Scarred fingers picked up the parchment, reading the report from an Illyrian outpost. All the details from the report went hazy in his mind as his eyes kept moving toward the same word over and over again.

Empath.

The room felt like it had tilted beneath Azriel, something caught in his throat unable to let him get the words out. His eyes scanned the page again, but now the document looked like it only said ‘empath’ over and over again. His shadows were frantically moving about the room, bouncing off the walls, desperate to escape their enclosure of the office. His tight grip on the paper caused some of them to come towards him, affectionately weaving through his fingers as if they were perfectly fitted gloves.

“Rhys, that’s not possible. There hasn’t been a known empath since-“

“I know.”

Rhys’s voice was sharp and clipped, the unspoken words hanging in the air. He took a sip of his whiskey, finishing off the glass before meeting with Azriel behind his desk, putting the glass down where the paper had lain. The paper in Azriel’s hands was shaking now as Rhys lifted one of his own to push the paper down back onto the desk.

“I know.”

His voice was much softer this time, the words coming out not much more than a whisper. 

-

The next morning the two of them left for the village mentioned in the intel, the sun barely peeking over the horizon as they took off from the balcony, neither male looking rested. The flight was silent as they passed over the terrain of the Night Court, the long flight offering the both of them ample time to think.

They landed sometime in the mid-afternoon after having stopped for food along the way, the meal one of silence and heavy atmosphere, not lingering for a second once they finished eating. Upon arriving, the two walked around the Illyrian village, having impromptu meetings with several of the males underneath Cassian’s command. When the sun began setting, their feet led them toward the only tavern in the village, a small, pathetic looking building that reeked of alcohol and vomit.

Rhys adjusted his jacket before he pushed open the door to the tavern, but he barely made it through the threshold before stopping. Azriel ran straight into Rhys’s back as the male in front of him stopped completely, blocking the entrance.

Rhys was frozen in place, his spine ramrod straight. Azriel immediately reached toward his belt, wanting a hand on Truth-Teller to offer some reassurance of whatever could make his High Lord still on sight. Azriel prepared himself and looked over Rhys’s shoulder at whatever caught his eye. His eyes immediately stopped where Rhys’ had - behind the worn down bar top, the wood old but sturdy, stood someone Azriel thought had died long ago.

You shined even brighter in person than you did in his memories, almost as if you casted a light glow over everyone around you, and Azriel’s grip on Truth-Teller faltered as your eyes met his across the room.

Author’s note: eeeek so excited!! Been working on this behind the scenes a bit!!! Dedicating this to my girl @milswrites the ultimate hype woman for this!!!

Permanent taglist: @vanilla-seabass @cyrygher @lees-chaotic-brain @topaz125 @chessebookgirl @fides25 @lady-of-tearshed @ashbatz @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria @justvibbinghere @daughterofthemoons-stuff @mybestfriendmademe @heartless-tate @tsunami-of-tears @idrkwhatthisisimsorry @olive-main @azrielsmate3 @pit-and-the-pen @durgenyx @dee-writes-smut @chairofchaos @thelov3lybookworm @berryzxx @throneofsmut @kennedy-brooke @prythianpages @itsswritten @acotarxreader @milswrites

Azriel taglist: @brieflyclassymortal @thisiskaylin @magicstrengthandcourage

[corroded-hellfire]

AYW req if you'd like: while Reader is pregnant with Eliza, she starts getting more prominent stretch marks on her stomach & boobs & stops letting Eddie see her naked. Eddie rectifies that situation hehehehe

This was honestly so fun to write! Love featuring the kiddos but these two also need some alone time hehe 💜 @munson-blurbs and I hope you like what we've come up with

Warnings: smut, p in v, unprotected (she's already pregnant but you should still wrap it up), semi-public sex, pregnant!reader, oral, f!receiving, breeding kink, body image issues, older!eddie, dad!eddie

Words: 3.3k

[As You Wish masterlist]

The late June day is sweltering as you step out of the Harrington’s house and into their backyard. The placid blue water of the pool looks refreshing and calm—or it will, until the kids get in. Luke quickly jumps in alongside Theo and Danny, the three rowdy boys immediately splashing each other and then whining about being splashed. Ryan and Natalie are decidedly less hyperactive, taking care to watch baby Amelia where she kicks herself around in her purple mermaid floaties. 

Nancy makes herself comfortable on a lounge chair a few feet away from the one you’re making your way towards. Normally you can keep up with everyone else, still being in your second trimester, but this heat has you moving slower and feeling crankier than usual. 

You can’t help but notice the way Nancy looks in her bathing suit compared to how you feel in yours. Nancy’s had four children and looks stunning as always as she lays back in her black one piece. You feel shoved into your navy suit, like every little stretch mark that mars your skin is on full display for the world to see. 

Trying to shrug it off and enjoy the invitation from the Harrington’s to have a pool day, you make yourself comfortable on your lounge chair and adjust the pale pink coverup you have on. Eddie stands near the foot of your lounge chair, shielding his eyes from the sun as he looks out at the children in the water. Your eyes feel glued to his lithe frame as he strips his shirt off. The pale skin that’s left on display practically has your mouth watering. It doesn’t matter that you’ve seen him naked countless times, your eyes still roam over his torso and the beautiful works of art he has inked on his skin. 

As Eddie rids himself of the Black Sabbath shirt, he notices the way you’re gawking at him. A smirk quirks up his handsome features and he playfully tosses his shirt at your face. Your hormones this second trimester have been no joke. The moment Eddie walks through the door after work you’re jumping on him. Your husband swore you were going to wear him out before this baby was born. Not the last week or so though, now that Eddie thinks about it. Maybe those particular horny hormones have been fading to make room for whatever new batch comes in for the third trimester. 

The sound of little feet kicking too hard beneath the water of the pool approaches you and Eddie, and you look up to see Luke swimming over towards the edge. He grins up at the pair of you, shaking the water from his curls like a dog just out of the bath. Bright blue eyes land on you and they’re doing a pretty damn good impersonation of the puppy dog look that Eddie gives you when he wants something. You know what Luke is going to ask before he even opens his mouth. 

“Wanna plaaaay with us? Please?”

Giving him a frown as you squint beneath the blazing sunlight, you shake your head. “I’m super tired, bud. Growing a baby is hard work,” you tease. You’re not technically lying—when you’re not jumping Eddie’s bones or concocting weird new food combinations, you’re sleeping— but no one needs to know that’s not the reason you don’t want to get in the pool. 

“I can play with you,” Eddie offers his son. He takes a step towards the pool and is ready to dive in when Luke wrinkles his nose up in disgust.

“Nah, I’m good,” the little Munson boy says. 

As you bring your hands up to your mouth to cover up your laughter at your son’s remark, Steve claps a hand on Eddie’s bare back.

“Gonna need some ice for that burn?” Steve whoops. 

“Shut up, Harrington,” your husband grumbles in response. Eddie takes a seat near your legs at the edge of the lounge chair. His hand finds your leg and he rubs up and down your calf, always needing to be touching you in some way. Physical comfort is something you both love to give and receive from one another, which calls for a lot of soft rubbing or absent-mindedly drawing patterns on one another’s skin. Now, Eddie’s touch is having a calming effect on you, though he didn’t even realize there was something you’re uneasy about. Your body language must change as he relaxes you though, because he tilts his head to the side as he gazes at your face.

“You feeling alright, baby?” he asks.

“Yeah, just tired.” 

If Eddie had any follow up for that, he doesn’t get the chance because Amelia kicks her way over towards Luke in the pool and hangs onto his shoulder when she’s close enough. Her hand almost slips from his wet skin, but Luke manages to catch the little girl before she can float too far away. 

“Uncla’ Eddie!” Amelia calls once she’s clinging to Luke again. 

“What’s up, Little Red?” he asks his favorite ginger niece. 

“Come in, come in!” Amelia cheers. 

“At least somebody wants me in the water,” Eddie says with a pointed look at Luke. “Anything for you, my darling Mia.”

A few minutes after Eddie’s joined the kids in the pool—who also convince Steve to come in—Nancy comes over to you, noticing how everyone else is in just their bathing suits and you’re seemingly putting on more articles of clothing. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you answer too quickly, nervously tucking your lips into your mouth. 

“Bullshit,” she counters, crossing her arms over her chest. “I have four kids; I can smell a lie a mile away.”

“Seriously, Nance, I’m fine.” You muster up a small smile, but she sees right through it, and you know it. 

You have your nose buried in a book, unaware that Nancy is reaching over the side of the pool to give Eddie’s ear a tug. 

“Jesus H. Christ!” he yelps, rubbing the affected lobe. “What was that for?”

“Go talk to your wife,” Nancy says through gritted teeth, obviously irritated at having to spell it out for him. “Marco Polo can wait.”

As Eddie attempts to get out of the pool, Amelia grabs his leg and tugs. Your husband lets out a soft chuckle and picks the small girl up.

“I’ll be back, Mia.” He presses a few kisses to the top of her wet, red hair and sets her back in the water. 

Over the top of your book, you see Eddie sauntering towards you. You slip the book back into your bag and tug your cover up tighter across your body. 

“What’s cookin’, good lookin’?” he asks with a smirk. “Besides that bun in the oven.”

“Just relaxing,” you say. 

“If you’re just relaxing, why did Lady Harrington threaten my life to come over here? And why aren’t you in the pool?”

The only answer you have you don’t want to tell him. And you’re not going to make up some lie to get him off your back. Eddie deserves better than that and you would never treat him with anything less than the utmost respect. That doesn’t mean you want to tell him the truth, though. You swallow embarrassment as you mutter, “I gotta pee.”

Eddie doesn’t let you get far without him though, he’s hot on your tail as you walk through the back door into the house.

“Can you please tell me what the problem is so I can at least try to fix it?” he asks once the screen door is securely closed behind him.

Silence is his only reply as you walk up the stairs to the second floor. You’re obviously upset, and your husband can’t relax until he knows what’s bothering you.

“Sweetheart, what’s the problem?” he asks again.

You stop short and spin on your heel to face him. As Eddie tries to read your face, he’s not sure if there’s more sadness or anger there. Either way, he wants to make it go away. He’d do anything. 

“This is the problem!” you say, gesturing towards your boobs and stomach. 

Eddie looks at you for a moment, brain trying to comprehend whatever it is you’re talking about. He shakes his head and gives you his response. “If I keep looking at them, this is gonna be a problem, too.” He motions to his crotch.

“I’m serious!” you yell in frustration. 

“I am, too!” Eddie says, raising his eyebrows. “Don’t forget how I got you pregnant in the first place.”

“Oh, so I can blame you for this mess?”

Eddie wrinkles his brows. “What mess?” He knows you would never refer to your baby that way, so he’s even more confused as to what you could mean.

“The stretch marks, Eds!” you lament, throwing your arms up in exasperation. “They look like an angry toddler drew lines all over my body.”

Understanding clicks inside Eddie’s brain. Why you’re so covered up. Why you didn’t want to go into the pool. But how could you ever think anything about your body wasn’t absolutely beautiful to him?

“That’s why you haven’t been all over me the past few days,” Eddie says as the realization hits him. “I thought maybe it was those horny hormones, or whatever they’re called, fading. But you…you think there’s something wrong with having stretch marks? Baby, no. It’s just your body making more room for our little sweet pea to grow. They’re beautiful, sweetheart.”

Believing him is easier said than done. You want to believe him, but battling the insecurities in your head is not something you’ve conquered yet. Now you just stand there and fiddle with the hem of your coverup, not knowing what else to say or do.

Eddie sighs and gently takes your hand into his. 

“Come with me. I wanna show you something.” 

Eddie leads you into the upstairs bathroom and shuts the door. He positions you directly in front of the mirror above the sink and stands behind you. Slowly, he moves your cover up out of the way to reveal your growing bump, stretch marks dotting the sides. 

“How on earth could you think anything about this is a problem?” he asks, his hands barely grazing your skin as he admires your tummy. “Look at you. Gorgeous bump. Cute little stretch marks from where our baby is making herself comfortable inside of you. It’s incredible, princess. Your body is literally growing a person and you’re mad at it because there are a few lines appearing on your skin?” He gives an incredulous laugh as he turns you around to face him. “Jesus, I mean, see what just talking about it does to me.” One large hand dwarfs your smaller one to press your palm to the hardening bulge in his swim trunks. 

You roll your eyes. “Please. The wind blows the wrong way and you get a boner,” you rebut. 

“Oh, Sweetheart,” Eddie says with a small groan. “Don’t say blows when I’m hard like this.”

“Can you be serious for two seconds?” Your temper is already short from the heat and the pregnancy, and his blasé attitude only makes it worse. 

Eddie cradles your cheeks in his hands. “I love you. And I love your body. I loved it before you were pregnant, and I’ll love it after, but watching you carrying our baby…fuckin’ does it for me.” He bites his lower lip as he drinks in the sight of you. “Goddamn, you look fuckin’ gorgeous like this.”

You think back to when the two of you first got together, when he’d made what you’d assumed was an offhand remark about knocking you up. Maybe it wasn’t as out of left field as you’d thought. 

As if he can read your mind, Eddie’s lips press soft kisses down your neck as he murmurs, “always dreamed about getting you pregnant. Would’ve done it a lot sooner if I’d known you’d be this sexy.” He runs a finger along a stretch mark that curves down your stomach. 

“H-How much sooner?” Curiosity asks the question for you as your back arches slightly from his touch. 

“That night,” he confirms, knowing he doesn’t have to elaborate further on what night he means, “but your stupid birth control pills ruined all my fun,” he adds with a teasing smirk. 

“They were so stupid. Sh-Should’ve stopped taking them the second I saw you.” Your voice is still timid from the emotions coursing through you, but Eddie can tell you’re finally letting him in.

Eddie throws his head back. “Fuck, baby. You got me all worked up.”

“Oh, you poor thing,” you tease, hands sliding up his wet chest and over the sparse hair. “What should we do about that?”

Eddie whines and leans in, nipping at your neck. 

“You know, I wasn’t a big fan of this bathing suit anyway,” you tell him. “The faster you get it on the floor, the faster you can be inside of me.”

Eddie gets your coverup and bathing suit off in record time. It would’ve made you laugh if you weren’t so turned on. His swim trunks go next and then Eddie is lifting you up onto the bathroom counter. There’s not much time to admire his fully naked body before he gets down on his knees in front of you. You wind your fingers through the hair on the top of his head and he looks up at you with wide, hungry eyes. That look alone has you practically dripping for him. 

Eddie keeps that eye contact with you as his hands force your legs further apart and he licks a broad stripe up your folds. You’re the one to end the staring contest when the pleasure overwhelms you and your eyes flutter closed, throwing your head back. It knocks against the mirror, but you’re too caught up to notice if it hurt or not. 

On the next swipe of Eddie’s tongue, he keeps going up so his tongue is trailing the swell of your belly as well. He presses hot kisses against your bump as he works his way back down again. He repeats the motion, next time taking time to either kiss or run his tongue along the stretch marks. The physical sensation feels amazing, but paired with the way Eddie is making you feel emotionally with his tender touch is making your heart thump even faster. 

Every little movement of his makes you feel more cared for, more cherished, and sexy. He’s built you up so high that you have to give a little tug on his curls so he pulls his mouth away from your pussy.

“Need you inside. Now.”

“Anything for the woman carrying my baby.”

You pull his mouth to yours and moan against his tongue as you feel his hands roam your body. His touch soothes over the areas of your breasts where you’ve memorized the stretch marks before moving down and caressing the ones on your stomach again. 

Eddie’s hands slide up to your hips and give a quick squeeze. He gently lifts you down from the counter and spins you around to face the mirror. You brace your hands on the counter as Eddie trails soft kisses up the side of your neck.

“Want you to see how fucking hot is when I fuck you like this,” he whispers in your ear, his hot breath sending a shiver throughout your body. 

You spread your legs, but Eddie wants them farther apart. He nudges them with his knee while he rubs a hand up and down your spine. He fists his cock a few times, making eye contact with you in the mirror as he does so. The way he’s looking at you has you whimpering and whining in anticipation.

Your noises make Eddie smirk, and he lines himself up with your entrance. As he pushes in, one hand snakes around your body and rests firmly on your baby bump. 

“Fuck,” Eddie groans. “I’ll never get over how fucking perfectly we fit together.” He punctuates his statement by tilting your chin slightly upwards so you have no choice but to see yourself in the mirror. You watch as he disappears inside you, your body obeying his every command. 

When you rock your hips back against his, Eddie slips his other hand around you to rub circles on your clit. His middle finger finds it easily, slipping through your soaked folds and pressing against the sensitive bud. The feeling is too much; you have to bite your lip to keep from screaming out—the last thing you need is the Harringtons hearing your pathetic whines. 

“God, I wanna fill you up so bad, baby,” Eddie hisses, snapping into you furiously as he takes in the view of your body; the view of you watching your body. “Shit, I’d make you pregnant twice over right now if I could.” 

“W-Would you always keep me pregnant if you could?” you manage to ask between gasps and whimpers—both yours and Eddie’s. 

“Fuck,” Eddie growls. “Don’t tempt me, sweetheart. “I’ll go buy a damn farm right now to raise all the babies I want to put in you.”

His words make you laugh, which has you squeezing around Eddie’s cock. He moans, drawing you impossibly close against his bare chest. 

“They’re babies, not sheep, Eddie.”

“Still need the space to run around,” he muses, making you laugh again.

“I love you so—-oh! So, so much, Eddie.”

 He’s ridiculously hard inside of you, fucking into you like his life depends on it. “Shit, I love you too, princess.” His middle finger makes more frantic circles around your clit, throwing you over the edge. “You’ve got a fuckin’ vice grip today, holy shit,” he breathes, willing himself not to finish too early while still being acutely aware of his surroundings. 

Your fingers dig into the countertop as each thrust brings you closer to your orgasm. “Right—right there,” you pant, fighting back a moan. “Don’tstopdon’tstopdon’tstop.” You come, aided by his magic fingers and your raging hormones, with a soft whine of his name. 

“‘M right there, shit, you’re the best little fucktoy,” he grunts. The hint of degradation has you clenching around him again; of course, he immediately takes notice of it. “Y’like that? Y’like being my pregnant little fucktoy? Knocked up with my baby and still beggin’ for more?”

“Y-Yes, sir,” you stutter, smiling at the reaction your response brings. 

Eddie’s pistoning his hips into you, whispering directly in your ear, “So good, so fucking good f’me. Gonna come so deep in this little pussy, mkay? Gonna keep you pregnant, just like you want.” 

With a guttural groan, he spills into you. His breath is hot on your shoulder blade as he stays inside, not wanting to withdraw right away. You’re not complaining either, until—

“Are you two finished in there?” Steve’s irritated voice beckons from the other side of the door. Your already sweaty body heats up even more, realizing you’ve been found out. Something about it is also oddly hot, but it’s not the best time to think about that with Eddie still inside of you and Steve on the other side of the door. 

“Just a sec!” Eddie calls back, giving your earlobe a gentle nibble as he pulls out, scooping up the cum that’s dripping down your bare leg and stuffing it back into your pussy. “Had to clean you up,” he murmurs with a salacious grin. 

The two of you put your swimsuits back on and fix yourselves as best as you can before Eddie opens up the bathroom door. 

Steve just rolls his eyes, barreling past you as he mutters, “Dammit Munson; you already got her pregnant. Relax.”

[remxedmoon]

“the merciless cobra. its caustic venom can traverse any distance… as long as it stays out of danger.

…please, pay no mind to those ghastly stains. it must’ve been splashed with paint while my back was turned.”

reptile

1 power - 1 health - 3 blood

2 power - 3 health - 2 blood

sniper - you may choose which opposing space a card bearing this sigil strikes.

touch of death - when a card bearing this sigil damages another creature, that creature perishes.

hidden trait - gemmified

when a sigil is transferred to this card, it becomes gemmified. gemmified cards gain +1 power, +2 health, and -1 cost.

COBRADILE!! this was probably the most fun card to make out of all of them. also probably the prettiest card imo!!! writeup below!!

sniper and touch of death! pretty deadly combo. literally. you can just kill any card you please from any spot on the board. i was DEAD SET on giving her the sniper sigil. it just felt right.

GEMMIFICATION YIPEEE! this is a mechanic from act 3! but mox cards appear in act 2 as well. in base game inscryption, you need to have specific gem vessels on the field in order to activate the buffs (ruby for power, emerald for health, and sapphire for cost) but! mox cards and gem vessels aren’t really. in kaycee’s mod. and it would be super clunky to add them for a single card! so all you have to do is sacrifice a card’s sigils onto her. is this a little broken? maybe. but this is inscryption, literally everything is broken lol

^expanding on this, it still kinda fits lorewise? ka buans do compress their ashes into diamonds after all. let’s say that they compressed the creature into a diamond or something and that’s what’s powering her, idk

ok i’ll stop talking about the mox thing after this. both sif and odile were given mechanics from the other scrybes! siffrin requires bone tokens (grimmora) and odile has mox (magnificus). no sorry there’s nothing for p03. they don’t have computers in the isat world i think. i’m pretty sure.

initially i wanted to make her a stork or an ibis, but. all avian cards have the airborne sigil. which makes their attacks hit the opponent directly instead of their creatures. and that defeats the entire purpose of sniper. so she gets to be a spitting cobra! i think it’s more fun this way anyways. more fun shapes.

also this kinda spoils bonnie’s card a little but!! i put thought into the tribes too!!! the vaugardians (mirabelle, isabeau, and bonnie) are all from the hooved tribe! odile is a reptile and sif is tribeless because they’re outsiders. teehee.

ok patch time. she gets double strike, which makes her attack twice (as the name implies). i chose this in reference to memory of first strike (it just reminds me of it? idk) and also because it synergizes with sniper! you get to oneshot TWO cards in one turn! good god! odile really is merciless

that’s everything important about this card! i know this is long as hell but! that’s what happens when you introduce an entire new mechanic. i guess. anyways alt card art!!!

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 1

-Imagine that after John Wick wins his freedom from the High Table, he [re]retires to your sleepy little mountain town, where you work in a coffee shop...

-Your quaint little town tucked in the mountains is the kind of place people go to get away from it all, and you can’t help but wonder what Mr. Wick is running from. He is an unfairly handsome man. You nearly make a huge fucking fool of yourself, the first time he approaches your counter, so taken that you could hardly speak. For all his good looks there is something compellingly melancholy about him. You see it in his soulful dark eyes, and the set of his shoulders. You can see this man carries a weight beyond what anyone of his years should bear.   

-He becomes a regular at your little coffee shop, and you get over your shyness with him. He’s soft spoken, sometimes a little grumpy, but usually impeccably courteous compared to some of your unbearably entitled clientele visiting from the Big City for the ski resort or the hiking. He never orders anything fancy, just black coffee, and he likes to stay for an hour or so in the cozy cabin atmosphere of your shop. He favors a corner table tucked in the back by the river-stone fireplace, usually reading an old book, though sometimes you think he just sits, his attention fixed beyond the page he’s on, eyes not really seeing the room.

-You manage not to stare too hard, when you see him without gloves for the first time, and realize he is missing his left ring finger. You are not repulsed. You just wonder what happened to him.

-In time you notice he barely touches his unadorned coffee, and you wonder if he even likes it. You don't know where you get the cheek to tease this so-serious man. “Do you just order it like that to match your clothes?” You’ve never seen him in anything but head to toe black.

At first he looks at you as though you have grown a second head. Then he answers, completely dead pan, “Maybe it matches my soul.” 

You snort with laugher, not believing him.

Maybe you should have, looking back.

“Sure, Mr. Wick.”

The next day you surprise him with a cup of something you concocted with him in mind. It's nothing too scathingly original. Just a dark chocolate mocha, with a splash of hazelnut, and just a bit of steamed cream. “Try this,” you say, setting it on his table totally unsolicited. You feel validated, for he's barely touched his black coffee again. 

“What is it?” he asks, peering at it suspiciously. 

“I just think you might need something a little sweet.” 

He looks up at you through his long hair, and you don't know why, but a little chill runs down your spine. It's not fear, exactly. It's like walking in the woods, and stumbling on a powerful animal on the trail. Something that maybe could eat you, if it chose, but instead just disappears back into the dark trees.

You do not pester him anymore that day, even if it is the highlight of your shift sometimes. But when you go to clean up his dishes you do notice the cup you gave him is empty. 

He doesn’t come in for almost a week after that, and you fear that maybe you were too pushy and pissed him off with your boldness. 

Maybe it's a little pathetic, the way your heart leaps when he walks through the door again.

“I’ll have…whatever that thing was you made the other day.”

You try not to gloat, but your lips twist in a smile.

-It becomes your little mission in life to make this man smile, and if just the corner of his mouth ticks up at some point during his visit you feel as though you’ve accomplished a good thing.

Maybe it’s totally a cliché, but you’re an artist, and when you’re not making coffee, or cleaning up coffee, you draw bright designs on the chalkboard around the menu with your pastels. You make elaborate landscapes and art nouveau maidens inspired by Mucha. People in town seem to enjoy your weekly designs, which is nice, even if it’s not entirely the recognition you crave. Four years of art school just to doodle on the chalkboard, you can hear your father say. He’s not wrong, but it still stings.

One day, you sketch Mr. Wick reading in the corner on the back of a discarded receipt. He is…such a lovely man. When you walk past you slip it on the table for him. You don’t let yourself watch his reaction. If you had, you would have seen his expression soften, the stony façade cracking even if just for a moment.

Is this how you see him? Not some broken down old man, the way he absolutely feels after his war with the High Table, but something…not unpleasant to look at.

You don’t know it at the time, but this is the action that sets off an avalanche. You wake a sleeping beast in him, and a dark obsession begins to kindle.

[formulauno98]

Yacht Girl Summer - Chapter Nine / Thursday, Four Months Later - George Russell x Reader, Toto Wolff x Reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: Angst!!! 🌶 This one is spicy. 18+ only. This is going to be a slow burn and if you're uncomfortable with the idea of two-timing don't read this.

Author’s Notes: Disclaimer, purely fiction. No use of Y/N and minimal descriptions because I want everyone/anyone to be able to enjoy this.

I do not give anyone permission to replicate or translate my fic.

THURSDAY EVENING, FOUR MONTHS POST-BREAK-UP

Bouncing up and down, straddling the handsome man lying on the bed beneath you, your hips rolled together in unison as he thrust up into you, moaning. His familiar hands held your hips in a vice-like grip, lifting you as he filled you over and over again, each thrust bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Take it.” he rasped, pulling you down for a breathy, passionate kiss as he pressed his cock deeper. You’d never felt so full and it wasn’t long before you were almost there. 

“Cum for me.” he said, “Cum on my cock.”

“Fuck!” you screamed as your companion flipped you over onto your back once more, pushing in relentlessly, leaving you gasping as you shuddered out your second orgasm of the night. The man on top of you wasn’t far behind, expertly pulling out as he too reached completion, splattering your stomach.

“Fuck, that was good,” he said, rolling over to lay beside you, “Why did we not do this again sooner?”

You rolled over to lean on your elbow, your eyes finding his, “Really?” you said.

“A figure of speech.” he said, propping himself up to face you fully, “We should clean up, come and shower with me?”

“Don’t mind if I do,” you said, grinning at your charming lover. This was not how you had expected the evening to go when you’d accepted an invitation to a friend of a friend’s art exhibition. But you were not one to complain. Life always had a funny way of working out.

REWIND TO A TUESDAY AFTERNOON, TWO MONTHS POST-BREAK-UP

Days had turned into weeks that quickly stretched to two months as you tried your best to piece your life back together following your split from George. The pain of the break-up still hit hard but was slowly dissipating with each passing day. It wasn’t easy, the press having gotten wind of the split and done their utmost to link George to numerous other women in the wake of your separation, his photo constantly splashed unceremoniously across the gossip pages. 

To begin with, seeing articles and photos of him with other women had upset you but the saying that time heals all wounds was starting to ring true and the more time passed, the less it was affecting you. You were starting to feel like yourself again, no more worrying about what people thought of you, enjoying being your own person once more, no longer just George’s girlfriend. 

Although brutal, the break-up had brought the clarity that you had long been seeking. Of course, you regretted how it had come about but you didn’t regret it happening. You wished you hadn’t hurt George in the process and you somewhat regretted sleeping with Toto but you couldn’t turn back the clock, you could only learn from your mistakes.

On the matter of Toto, you had felt torn. Despite the clandestine way you had found each other, there was a real connection and you had toyed with the idea of exploring it. True to his word, he had sent you a text asking if you’d like to go for lunch but it had felt too soon so you’d politely declined. A few weeks later, he’d invited you for drinks, but again it felt all too quick. You needed space to heal, to figure out if your attraction to him had been genuine or was just a product of the yacht’s close quarters, fueled by your unhappiness with George.

In a surprising turn of events, Cara had also checked in with you regularly, the older woman sympathetic to your plight. The unexpected blossoming friendship had become a comforting constant, with the two of you meeting every few weeks for coffee or brunch and Cara making you privy to George and Toto’s workplace comings and goings. According to James, their relationship was still frosty but both were professional enough to keep it out of the workplace and the wider team were none the wiser.

You hadn’t heard from George, save for a short text telling you that someone was coming over to collect his things from your apartment. It had been emotional packing up George’s possessions but somewhat cathartic once they were gone. Out of sight, out of mind and it had helped you begin to fully move on.

TUESDAY EVENING

That was until one fateful evening. You’d been invited to a charity auction, auctioning off racing memorabilia for a good cause. You had RSVP’d months ago and forgotten until a reminder popped up in your calendar the day before. It was too late to back out and all you hoped was that George would not be there. 

On arrival you scanned the room, looking out for the familiar mop of brown hair. Breathing a sigh of relief, you saw he was nowhere to be found and milled about, sipping on champagne and chatting with your former acquaintances from the paddock. Ready to grab another flute of champagne, you jumped as a hand suddenly wrapped around your arm, a deep, all-too familiar voice booming from behind you.

“I didn’t know you would be here.” 

It was Toto. Fuck. Your heart skipped a beat, but you steadied yourself, turning to face him.

"Hi," you replied, feeling a mix of emotions. "How have you been?"

"Busy, as always," he said with a small laugh. "And you?"

"Good. Work’s been busy too and I’ve been trying to get out for some hikes every weekend. Take my mind off things, you know?"

There was an awkward pause, a moment of unspoken understanding. "I’m glad to hear that," he said finally. "You look well."

"Thank you, so do you," you replied. "I’ve also had a lot of time to think lately."

"About us?" he asked, keeping his voice low, his eyes searching yours.

"About everything," you admitted. "What happened… it wasn't fair to George, to you, or to myself."

Toto nodded. "I understand. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry for my part in it."

"Thank you," you said, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. “What’s done is done and we can only move on.”

"I agree," he said, his tone respectful. "And if you ever need a friend, I’m here."

You smiled, appreciating the gesture. "I’ll keep that in mind."

– – – 

As the evening progressed, you felt a sense of closure. The chapter with George and Toto was over and you were ready for new beginnings. Your future was uncertain, but you felt ready to embrace it for the first time in a while. 

You didn’t see Toto again that night and thankfully George didn’t show up. You were able to slip out early, knowing that this was a world you were finally no longer part of. It was cathartic and as you walked into the night, you savoured the promise of new adventures and the lessons learned from your past mistakes.

SATURDAY EVENING

As the days passed following the auction, the memory of your encounter with Toto at the charity event lingered. You found yourself replaying the conversation in your mind, wondering if you should have said more. The closure you felt that night started to feel incomplete and you couldn't shake the feeling that there could be more to explore between you and Toto.

Late one Saturday evening, as you sat alone in your apartment, you decided to bite the bullet and reach out. With a deep breath, you picked up your phone and typed out a message.

"Hey, it was good to see you the other day. Would you be up for coffee? I’ve been thinking a lot and would love to talk."

You hesitated before hitting send, but you figured what the hell. The message was sent and all you could do was wait and see what he had to say in response - if he responded at all. 

SUNDAY MORNING

Fortunately, you didn’t have long to wait when early the next morning, Toto’s reply came.

"Of course. I’m in town today, I can do this afternoon if that’s not too short notice?"

You replied quickly, texting back and forth as you made concrete plans for the location and timing. Your stomach was already filled with butterflies, you weren’t sure what you were going to say to Toto but all you knew was that your heart had thumped at the sight of him at the auction. He was a striking man and a single flash of that dimpled grin had your heart melting once more.

Arriving at the café, you spotted Toto seated at a corner table, looking pensive. He smiled warmly as you approached and you were struck by how natural it felt to see him again, albeit surreal to see him sat down at a regular table, away from the glitz and glamour you typically met him in.

"Hi," you said, sitting down across from him.

"Hi," he replied. "It’s good to see you."

"You too," you said, taking a deep breath. "I’ve been doing a lot of thinking since the auction."

"Me too," Toto admitted, his expression serious. "That week was…something. I’ve found myself missing you."

"Same here," you said, feeling a sense of relief. "Seeing you the other night made me realise that. Maybe, if you wanted, we could see each other again?”

Toto leant forward, his eyes searching yours. "What are you saying?"

"I’m saying that I know this came about in not the best way but maybe we could see where things go?"

Toto’s face softened, and he reached across the table to briefly take your hand in his, conscious you were in public. "I’ve felt the same way. I didn’t want to push you, after everything that happened. But if you’re willing to give me a chance, I’d like that too. Let me take you out to dinner."

You smiled, feeling a weight lift from your shoulders. "I’d love that. Let’s start again, no pressure.”

"Absolutely," Toto agreed, his dimpled grin returning, chocolate eyes crinkling. “No pressure.”

THREE MONTHS POST-BREAK-UP

Over the next few weeks, you and Toto spent more time together, enjoying a cosy dinner, a trip to an art gallery and a walk around the park, dropping back into easy conversations as if no time had passed at all. Toto had behaved like the perfect gentleman, not taking things beyond a relatively chaste goodnight kiss following your dinner. He knew that you were still healing and when you were ready to take the next step you’d be sure to let him know.

With Toto now away for three weeks on a triple header, you kept in touch digitally, dropping each other occasional texts throughout the day, Toto calling you on the odd quieter evening. When he did call, you found yourself chatting away the hours, it was easy and you felt as if you’d known him for years.

Although you were taking things slow this time, you couldn’t wait for Toto to return and swoop you up in those strong arms. You craved his touch and couldn’t wait for the opportunity to get close once again.

WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON, FOUR MONTHS POST-BREAK-UP

The day Toto was set to return had finally arrived. You woke up with an excitement you hadn't felt in a long time, a spring in your step as you went about your morning routine. You texted him good morning, and he replied almost instantly.

"Can’t wait to see you tonight. Dinner at 8?"

"Perfect, Can’t wait," you replied, smiling at the thought of seeing him again. 

You spent the day preparing, tidying up your apartment just in case anything were to happen and spending some time pampering so you looked and felt your best. You were tingling with anticipation at the promise of what the evening held.

WEDNESDAY EVENING

When eight o’clock finally came, you arrived at the restaurant a few minutes early, nervously checking your reflection in the window before stepping inside. Toto was already there, ever the gentleman, standing up from the table to greet you with a warm smile.

"You look beautiful," he said, his voice deep and sincere.

"Thank you," you replied, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks. "You look good too."

Dinner was filled with easy conversation and shared laughter, Toto sharing stories from his action-packed travels and you telling him about the new hobbies you'd picked up during your time alone. There was an unspoken understanding between you, a mutual respect that you knew had not been present in your relationship with George. You found yourself once again falling for the older man’s rakish charm, such a stark contrast from the grumpy persona he seemed to adopt in the workplace.

After dessert, Toto offered to walk you home and you eagerly agreed. The evening was cool, the stars just beginning to peek out from the darkening sky as you strolled through the dark streets. Toto’s hand brushed against yours and you felt a spark return, a connection that was impossible to ignore.

"Can I confess something?" he asked, stopping to look at you, his dark eyes serious.

"Of course," you replied, your heart racing.

"I’ve thought about you every day since that week on the yacht," he said, his voice soft. "I know it wasn’t the best of circumstances, but it is what it is."

You took a deep breath, the honesty in his words touching you deeply. "I feel the same way, Toto."

He smiled, stepping closer and taking your hands in his. "These last three weeks have been torture. All I wanted was to come back and see you. It’s been driving me crazy.”

You nodded, feeling a wave of relief and happiness wash over you. "I missed you too."

As he leaned down to kiss you, the world seemed to melt away. His lips were soft and warm, and you felt a sense of rightness as if this was where you were meant to be all along. When you finally pulled away, he kept you close, his forehead resting against yours.

"Let’s take it slow," he suggested. "No pressure, just us."

"Just us," you repeated, feeling a sense of peace you hadn’t felt in a long time.

As you walked towards your apartment, hand in hand, you knew that this was the start of something new. It wouldn’t be easy, and there would be challenges ahead, but for the first time in a long while, you felt hopeful. More mature than George, Toto was different, the breath of fresh air that you had needed.

THURSDAY MORNING

The next morning, you woke up with a smile on your face, the memory of Toto’s kiss still fresh in your mind. Something about it felt right and you couldn’t wait to see him again.

You rolled over and checked your phone, pleased to already see a message from him.

"Good morning beautiful. Last night was wonderful. Looking forward to seeing you again soon."

You replied quickly, your heart fluttering. 

"Good morning! I had a great time too. Can’t wait to see you again."

Toto was straight to the point, playing no games. He had told you exactly how he felt and you believed him. You had heeded Cara’s warning of him being a playboy but he had given you no reason to fear so far.

As you set about your day, you kept catching yourself smiling for no reason in particular, glowing from your evening with Toto. You had been invited to a friend of a friend’s art exhibition that evening and you were looking forward to spending time with your girlfriends and spilling the details of your budding romance. You hadn’t shared what had happened on the yacht with many but you knew if your relationship with Toto was to grow, you couldn’t keep him a secret.

THURSDAY EVENING

Walking through the doors of the small gallery, the room buzzed with conversations, the walls adorned with large, vibrant pieces. Your friends were yet to arrive so you decided to take a look around. As you moved from painting to painting, you heard a familiar voice behind you. Turning around, you saw George standing there, looking as surprised as you felt. 

“Hi,” you greeted him, a bit unsure of how to proceed, aware that you were exposed in public.

“Hi,” he replied, his expression unreadable. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Same,” you said, forcing a small smile. “How have you been?”

“Busy,” he said with a shrug. “You?”

“Good. Just taking things one day at a time,” you replied.

An awkward silence hung between you, and you decided to break it. “This is weird. Do you want to talk somewhere else?”

George hesitated, then nodded. “Sure.”

Dropping a hasty text to your friends, telling them a white lie that you weren’t feeling well, you found yourself outside, alone with George. The evening air was cool and refreshing and as you walked side by side in silence through the quiet streets, the city lights cast a soft glow around you.

“I’m sorry, George,” you said, breaking the silence. “I’m so sorry for everything. For cheating on you, for hurting you. You didn’t deserve that.”

George looked at you, his expression softening. “I know I wasn’t the best boyfriend. I got caught up in my career and forgot about us. I’m angry, yes, but I also understand that we both made mistakes.”

You shook your head. “It’s not at all your fault George, please never think that. It was my fault entirely and I just hope we can both move on from this and find happiness.”

“I hope so too,” George said, his tone softening. “I did love you, you know. A part of me always will.”

Tears welled up in your eyes. “I loved you too, George. I still care about you and I want the best for you.”

He gave a small smile, a hint of the old George you knew. “Same here. Let’s just try to be better for ourselves and whoever comes next.”

“Agree.” you said, “Whoever that is is a lucky girl.”

“I appreciate that,” said George, “And likewise, although I think we both know who that is.”

You raised your eyebrows, George interrupting you before you were able to deny his suggestion, “I know you’re seeing Toto. We’ve spent the last few weeks together and I’ve seen him glued to his phone when he’s not working. He’s been grinning like an idiot.”

Smiling weakly, you shrugged, “We’re just friends. It didn’t feel right to do anymore.”

Looking unconvinced, George turned to face you, “Look, I’m sure we’ll run into each other, I hope we can be friendly?”

Surprised that George was being so amicable, you reached around to hug him, his arms wrapping around you in return, “Deal.”

Stood in George’s embrace, you felt a sense of relief and closure wash over you. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a start. Sure, George had not been the perfect boyfriend but you would always cherish the moments you had spent together and you could only wish him well.

– – – 

Having bid goodbye to George, you returned to your apartment, feeling lighter than you had in months. As you settled in, your phone rang. It was Toto.

“Hello?” you answered, your heart skipping a beat at the sound of his voice.

“Hey, is now a good time to talk?” he said, a warm tone in his voice. 

“Of course,” you said, thrilled that he already wanted to talk to you again.

“Are you home?” he asked, “I’m close by, I wondered if I can come up?’

Surprised that he was inviting himself over, you looked around, scanning the mess you’d left in your apartment as you’d hurried out the door earlier, “Sure, how far away are you?”

“About twenty minutes.” he said, “I’ll ring when I’m close by.”

“Perfect,” you said, “See you soon.”

“See you,” he said ringing off. 

At that, you bolted from the sofa frantically, chucking the dirty plates and cookware that you’d left in the sink in the dishwasher and running to your bedroom to put the laundry you’d been too lazy to fold away back in your wardrobe.

You’d hardly managed to tidy anything when the buzzer rang. Twenty minutes your ass, Toto needed to work on his timing! You pushed the button to let Toto up, making your way to the kitchen to dig out a bottle of wine and two glasses.

Not long after there was a soft knock on your door and barely containing a smile, you made your way over to answer the door to the older Austrian, mildly embarrassed at your excitement. You took a breath, steeling yourself to calm down and greet Toto normally.

However, nothing could have prepared you for who stood on the other side of the door. It was George, grinning widely, clearly tipsy, holding the largest bunch of white roses you’d seen in your life.

"George," you said, taken aback. "Not that it’s not nice to see you but what are you doing here?"

His grin faltered for a moment, replaced with a flicker of uncertainty. "I know this is unexpected. But after we talked earlier, I felt like there were still things left unsaid. I wanted to come by and see you."

You hesitated, glancing down the hallway, half expecting Toto to appear any second. "George, this really isn't a good time..."

"I won't stay long, I promise," he said quickly, sensing your hesitation. "I just need to say this."

You stepped aside, allowing him to enter and he handed you the roses. They were beautiful, but the timing felt wrong. You placed them on the kitchen counter and turned to face him.

"Thank you for these, but George, we really said everything that needed to be said earlier. We have to move on."

"I know," he said, running a hand through his hair. "But I’ve been thinking too. I realised I never properly apologised for my part in everything. I was so wrapped up in my own world, I didn’t see how unhappy you were. I’m truly sorry."

You nodded, appreciating his honesty. "George, honestly, what I did to you was the worst thing in the world. Unless you were some abusive boyfriend there was no excuse. I’m the biggest piece of shit for doing that. There is no need to apologise.”

He gazed at you, unconvinced, “I don’t know about that. I miss you.”

Your eyes widened, not only were you not expecting George, you certainly hadn’t expected this one-eighty. If things had been the other way around you were not sure if you could have forgiven him.

“I miss you too,” you confessed, “But it’s natural, we spent a lot of time together, good times.”

“Exactly!” he said, his eyes a little crazy, “And I’ve been thinking. I think I could forgive you. I know you’ve been chatting to Toto but c’mon, you can do better than that old man.”

Suddenly well aware that the old man in question was currently en route to your place, you tried to remain tactful, “I appreciate that but I honestly think it’s better if we both just move on. You can do a lot better than me!”

“No. No, I can’t.” he said, his eyes looking saddened, “I’m still in love with you.”

Taglist: @prettiest-at-the-party @noooway555 @annewithaneofthegreengable  @xoscar03 @totowolfffcheco @justzluv @kravitzwhore @bborra @a-beaverhausen@amandadesantasworld

[bihansthot]

Title: Hiss

Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Pairing: Messmer x AMAB!Tarnished, Messmer x Male Reader

Warnings: anal sex, the snakes are involved, size difference, barebacking

Author’s Notes: soooo here we are, I wasn’t planning to write a Messmer fic, at least not yet but this idea got stuck in my head and I acted on it, no I will not apologize for using the snakes I’m a shameless monster lover and they’re part of Messmer. Hopefully it’s ok? It’s my first time writing for a fandom other than Mortal Kombat in like 6 or 7 years, I hope Messmer is in character enough. As always likes, comments and reblogs are always, always appreciated!! Enjoy lovelies!

A loud hiss echoes off the barren stone walls, you’re unsure if the noise came from you or from the serpents intertwined in your beloved’s flesh. You bite back a laughably pitiful whimper as you impale yourself on your lover’s pretty cock, Messmer is big, too big and you know it but it doesn’t stop you from trying. Your ass is slick from the demigod’s earlier ministrations and the viscous elixir you had coated his member with before attempting to seat yourself in his lap. Your fingernails bite into the empyrean’s flesh as you sink lower, pain jolting through your back as Messmer fills you deeper than you ever dared to when you played with yourself in the past.

“For one so bereft of light, thy body truly is a work of art,” Messmer praises as his large, strong hands grip your slender hips, stilling your body from swallowing any more of his length.

You feel guilty as you were only able to accommodate a fraction of the demigod’s oozing cock, but with the size difference you both knew it was impossible, Messmer’s body was at least twice the size of your frail vessel. Your cock jumps at Messmer’s honeyed words and you can’t help but moan, “ah my lord,” as you wiggle and writhe in his grip eager to further please the warlord. Reluctantly Messmer relents and lets you take the lead, your heels dig into the cold stone of Messmer’s throne as you slowly lift and lower yourself, trying to find a rhythm to please you both. You let out a breathy cry as the empyrean’s thick cock brushes against your prostate with each movement. You wrap your arms around Messmer’s shoulders, mindful of the little winged serpents hovering there peering at the two of you curiously, as you use his body for leverage to bounce more vehemently.

“Gah,” Messmer groans as more of your slick, tight ass envelopes his huge cock, his mouth hanging slack for a moment before he pushes your hair back from your sweat speckled face.

Your cries climb higher and higher in octave as you keep your steady pace, precum drooling from your dainty, bouncing cock. You wished Messmer would stroke it while you rode him, no doubt you would be able to cum from just the demigod’s cock alone but the pressure would feel so good. You squeal loudly as cold scales wrap around your hot cock and constrict, blinking your eyes open in confusion you look down to see one of the mischievous serpents coiled around your length. “Me-Messmer!” You choke on your words as the empyrean stills your hips and begins to buck up into your tight, silken heat. The serpent slithers in circles around your sensitive length as Messmer assaults your prostate and there’s nothing you can do, your useless legs turn to jelly as you cling to the giant pitifully. You huff and whine and shriek and whimper before big, fat tears gather in your eyes as the serpent’s tongue dances over your sensitive tip.

“Willst thou cum for me my little mongrel,” Messmer taunts you knowing full well you have no choice in the matter, that you were too far gone and all it would take was a little more of the empyrean’s embrace.

“Ah! My lord! Oh Messmer, Messmer!” You wail as your body freezes in place after a particularly pleasurable jolt to your prostate. You hurdle over the edge as the serpent coils tighter, milking your cock as cum erupts from the tip spilling all over the bright red serpent and splashing onto Messmer’s taught stomach. You hear the demigod’s breath hitch as your ass clamps around his cock, spasming wildly as you ride out your orgasm.

“Such a good little culver,” Messmer whispers as he leans down to press his lips to yours to quiet your shouts and cries as he continues to fuck you through your release.

Every inch of you is trembling and alight as you drown in Messmer’s fiery kiss, your pitiful noises mitigated by the empyrean’s demanding lips. Tears still fell freely from your eyes as overstimulation short circuit your brain. You cling helplessly to Messmer as the demigod keeps fucking your dripping hole. You break the kiss to yell as the repeated assault on your prostate pushes you past reason, “please my lord, please,” you plead with Messmer urging him to finish and stop overwhelming your frail body.

“Hush,” he commands as his grip on your hips becomes almost painful as he shifts slightly and pounds into you marveling at your ability to take so much of him. It doesn’t take much long before Messmer’s pace stutters and falters, he squeezes his golden eye shut in pleasure as a cry escapes his lips. His huge body shutters in pleasure as you feel warmth spilling into your tight ass and spreading throughout your tired orifice.

You gasp and tremble as his cum fills you to the brim forcing another pitiful little splotch of cum from your spent cock. You gasp and pant as you try and come down from your high as Messmer slides out and pulls your body flush to his to hold you in his embrace. Your vision is blurry from pleasure and tears as you rest your head just below the rather naughty serpent as it finally releases your cock from its coils, it flits its tongue at you, seemingly pleased with itself. You allow yourself to close your eyes and bask in the heat radiating from Messmer’s body as you coo contently.

The empyrean hums happily as his fingers card through your hair as his cock softens. The two of you stay there for what seems like ages, neither of you in any rush to move, Miquella would have to wait, you would rather watch the world burn than leave your lover’s side. Burn it would, those stripped of the Grace of Gold shall all meet death, in the embrace of Messmer's flame.

[minhosimthings]

Impatient details || 18+

Synopsis: You just couldn't wait as Hyunjin kept you waiting to finish his portrait of his most favourite muse.

Pairings: Hyunjin × fem!reader

Warnings: Smut, 18+ MINORS DNI, Fingering, masturbation, degradation, swearing, Hyunjin calls reader 'darling' and 'my muse', unprotected sex (don't do it absolutely not), Hyunnie cums inside of reader, overstimulation, dacryphillia, art studio sex let's gaur, it's a bit fluffy at the end

A/N: y'all I can't do this I'm SAUR HORNY RIGHT NOW DAMN THIS PERIOD. I really needed Hyunnie cause man is literally looking like a Greek God in that silver hair (although he has dark hair in this drabble). So this concludes my very first Hyunjin smut! Yay to my dumb brain for working.

Muses are such pretty little things aren't they? Oh to be a muse. To be dancing under the bloodlust stars with a person who considers you their entire universe. To be staying still and laughing in courtish conversation as he imprinted your figure against yet another canvas, in the same yet different shades of captivating colours.

"Hyunjin-" you dropped your arm from your waist, "-my arm fell asleep again." Always the artist, never the muse, changed when you met Hyunjin. Now, you were forever gracefully stuck as the starry eyes muse, remembered in reds and blues. "Hyunjin how much longer?" You whined to Hyunjin, who whisked his eyes away from the canvas in a whip. He lowered his paintbrush and put his palette on his table, brushing his long, dark hair out of his eyes. Standing up with a slight wince (probably from sitting for that long), he strode over to you, lifting your chin up with his finger. You could see the sweat beads glisten on his forehead, and his fingers all covered with paint. A splash of paint decorated his neck, from where veins were slightly popping out.

“Always so needy for me, aren’t you? Can’t help yourself, can you?” He leaned forward to your lips, with barely any space between them. You could feel his breath hit your lips as you leaned forward to kiss them. To your disappointment, he leant back.

“Mm, always so impatient for me, ” Hyunjin smirked into an impatient, rough kiss, a surprise to you, after he had previously leaned away. "Mm Hyunnie-" you moaned into the kiss, Hyunjin's hands resting on your thigh, "Want you." Hyunjin pulled away from the kiss, caressing your cheek with his right hand.

"Not so fast my muse." He smirked like the devil in a dance, "you distracted me from almost finishing the painting, so now you're gonna pay for it."

He leaned back against his chair, leaving you dumbfounded on the couch. "Now-" he picked up his paintbrush, "-I am going to need something to motivate me to detail this painting, so why don't you touch yourself for me darling?"

"And don't you dare take that pretty dress off." He mused, biting his bottom lip in concentration "That's for me to do later."

You slip your fingers into your cunt, feeling disappointment at them not being Hyunjin's cock. As you start to hump your hand, you could see Hyunjin tighten his grip on his paintbrush, his face ever so scrunched up. He hasn’t fucked you yet, but this is good. You could see that hyunjin has been subtly grinding his long, pretty (and hard) cock against the easel for a good time now. “yeah, ‘m wet for you hyune~” you croon, wanting to cum so bad.

"Just a little more, my muse. Need to get the details right don't I? Need to make sure this pretty body gets what it deserves?"

You exhale lightly at that, trying not to react too much to what he just said.You aren’t sure if he can see you clench around your own fingers or not, but you nod in agreement.You want to move your fingers more, you want Hyunjin to watch you do more. You jolted your hips ever so slightly as you could feel warm liquid coming between your legs.

"Jinnie-" you moaned, eyes still focused on his fingers moving delicately across the canvas, "-want to cum please." Hyunjin smirked behind his canvas and turned his eyes away for a split second. “You want to cum?” he grinned devilishly, wiping sweat off of his forehead. “Y-yes, I— please—” “Hm, but do you really deserve to?” Hyunjin slowly dabbed at a spot on the canvas as your fingers stopped moving around your clit. "Please Hyunjin~" you moaned, feeling more impatient than ever.

"Aww baby." Hyunjin cooed, getting up again and striding over to you, “Tell me how you want me.” “Want your fingers in me.” You whined, watching him get on top of you. "Aww my fingers? How many darling?"

When you didn’t respond, he tilted his head at you, quickly thinking of a way to get you to answer him. His long, messy hair fell in front of his dark brown eyes, waiting for you to beg him. He always enjoyed the sensation of you being on your knees, absolutely going dumb for his cock He slid his fingers into you and his eyes flickered down to your pussy, clenching tightly around them.

He grunted deeply and twisted his other hand on his cock teasingly. His eyes were glued on you starting with your half-lidded eyes and your parted lips, trying to catch a breath. He trailed his eyes down to your chest which rose and fell with each panting breath you took. He traced the curves of your body with greedy eyes, your smooth skin covered with a thin layer of sweat.

You slip your hands into his hair again, pulling him back down to continue the passionate kiss, holding onto him desperately. Youf tingled between your legs when his cock brushed through your folds and bumped against your clit, reigniting the flames of your desire. The heat of him turned you on, as if he’d drugged you with just a kiss, with just a touch of his glass skin on yours. He pressed another kiss to your jaw, ghosting your skin with his soft lips. He gave you a messy kiss, leaned his weight on his arm by your head to drag his rough hand down your body. He took your breath away again, pulled away just far enough so he could follow the path of his hand with his eyes.

"I think you need to be fucked properly, don't you my muse?" He stroked his cock, "Do you need to be fucked hmm?" "Please Jinnie-" you whined, missing the feeling of his fingers inside of you, "-need you against me, please." Your begging words ignited Hyunjin's mind, his eyes filled with fiery desire.

"Hyun- Hyunjin fuck!" Hyunjin slips into your cunt so easily. He kneads your breasts just right, pinching and caressing where you like, and his lips leaving open-mouthed kisses on your neck. You moan his name, and you feel his cock beneath you coming gradually to life. You grind your bare cunt on his nourishing cock, and his hand grasps your hair to pull your head. “Behave,” he warns with a chuckle, “Fucking eager, aren't we?” You could feel tears come out, decorating your face along with the sweat. Hyunjin's cock twitched as he saw your eyes all glossy and your face scrunched up, trying not to sob out of the pleasure he was giving you.

“Fuck you’re so—” He groaned, his hips shifting as he sat still for a second and he soaked in the way your lips parted and your eyes rolled back with pleasure. “—Fucking tight. You’re already squeezing the fuck outta my cock.” One thrust, then two, Hyunjin goes deeper into you, your moans giving him Heaven to his ears.

"Hyun- wait - I-I can't-" "yes you can darling." Hyunjin's eyes darkened over you, his hands still on your hair, as yours reciprocated. “Hyun,” You whined, squeezing your eyes shut, the overstimulation making tears slip from your eyes and your legs shake. You felt a shiver run down your spine when you felt his lips on your spine, his tongue running over your skin. He stopped at your neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses before he pressed his lips against your ear.

“You’re my good girl right? You’d do anything I tell you to?” He coaxed, his voice deep and smooth, enough to make you want to come right then and there, again. You nodded, not trusting your voice. “Yeah you fucking would. So cum for me, now.” He demanded, his hand slipping down your body to run your sensitive clit and the overstimulation was enough to send you over the edge.

“Fuck, fuck that’s it,” He moaned, his hand squeezing your neck tight enough to bruise, but not enough cut off your air entirely. He turned your head and kissed you hard, tongue slipping into your mouth as he sunk into you one more time before he spilled inside you.

"Whew!" Hyunjin panted as he collapsed next to you. "You know what, this actually is a weird couch. How is it supporting both of us?" You giggled, snuggling up to Hyunjin's warm chest. "Well thank you to Etsy for letting me but it for cheap. It's my most favourite place to draw my muse." You smiled into his chest, as he wrapped his arms around you, the smell of paint hanging around. "By the way," you spoke first after a long silence, "Did you get the details finished?" Hyunjin smirked at you, and buried himself into your neck. "I finsihed that shit a long time before you touched yourself all pretty for me darling." He whispered into your ear as you slapped his chest playfully, getting up to see how he had made a masterpiece of his muse.

[rainylana]

Taste of an Image: “Marry me?”

Eddie Munson x female reader

fluff blurb!

You were laughing like you were five years old again, wading in the creek behind his trailer, just down the hill from his mailbox. He was splashing you, his jeans rolled up to his knees as he stepped on sharp rocks with his bare feet. You held up the ends of your white dress, the ends still damp and muddy, but you didn’t care. The water was ice cold, numbing your toes to the point it almost hurt, but you were having too much fun to get out anytime soon.

Eddie was laughing as hard as he could, taking his arm and throwing the water at you to make you squeal. It wasn’t even really that funny, but you were both so happy to spend time with each other. Eddie was practicing with his band more and more. You were studying for college to become an art teacher. You didn’t want to go. You didn’t want to leave Eddie behind, but he was the one who eventually talked you into it, saying you were too talented to stay in Hawkins.

Time was running out, but maybe it didn’t have to. He had kept the ring in his pocket for weeks, waiting for the right moment to finally ask you to marry him. Now seemed as good as a time as any.

He winced as he walked over to you, laughing and chest heaving as you grabbed you, silencing you both with a passionate, deep kiss, once that nearly knocked you over. He wrapped his arms around your waist to keep you upright, breaking apart the kiss with a heavy breath and leaned his forehead against yours.

“Marry me?” He looks at you through lashes.

It should of come as a surprise to you, but it doesn’t. You nod, muttering a small yes and you go back to his lips.

[florencemtrash]

Hummingbird: Chapter Three

Miguel O'Hara x Reader

What if the Earth-1610 (Miles’s universe) version of Miguel’s wife was actually Miles’s AP Art teacher?

Masterlist

Warnings: Terrible science jargon

It was almost silly how quickly the world returned to normal.

Alchemax was splashed on every local newspaper, website, social media account, and TV channel for a solid week before complaints shifted to the neverending construction on the streets of New York. The subway somehow got tighter, packed bodies grumbling about the thirty minutes added to their commute after ten subway cars had fallen through a spot and landed in the Hudson river. 

But the events never faded away from your consciousness. The only way you could fall asleep was by leaving all the lights on. It racked up your electric bill like hell, but you couldn’t stand seeing the shadows creep along the wall as nighttime descended on the city - it reminded you too much of the Spot’s blank face and how he managed to stare into your soul without eyes.

Then there was the growing problem of your forgetfulness. You’d never been the best at keeping track of belongings - Mamá always blamed it on your creative brain - but now everything was being misplaced. The alarm clock would disappear from the nightstand and appear in the kitchen, your sock collection was dwindling every day and never making it into the dirty hamper, for Christ’s sake you still hadn’t found your favorite yellow sneakers and it was irritating you to hell and back. 

I’m losing my goddamn mind. You often found yourself thinking.

You threw yourself into work, staying in the classroom late to grade and lesson plan until the night crew got used to vacuuming around your feet. You took on extra projects at the Academy, signing up to run after-school detention and volunteering for props and set design for this year’s spring musical “The Addams Family.”

Anything to stay out of your apartment. Anything to keep you from being alone.

Three empty coffee cups mocked your bleary eyes as you sat hunched over the sewing machine after hours. Cheap black lace trailed off the table, slowly shortening as you incorporated the material into Morticia’s dress.

“Fuck!” You hissed in pain and stuck your thumb in your mouth, sucking away the blood from your fourth needle prick of the night. At this rate you’d have more holes punched into you than swiss cheese.

It was time to give up for tonight.

Before you could forget you slipped the stolen Brooklyn Visions Academy uniform from your bag and hid it in the bottom-most cubby in the storage room. The sleeping bag and pillow from your apartment were also stuffed there, ready for Miles to use whenever he needed an extra break from being a superhero. You suspected Gwen had also been sneaking by to visit Miles now that she had more freedom to explore the multiverse - hence the spare uniform.

“How’s he doing?” You’d asked Miles earlier that day. Miguel’s unspoken name had lingered on the tip of your tongue, forcing the color to rise into your cheeks. Luckily Miles knew exactly who you were talking about.

A knowing grin grew on his face, “Not too bad. He seems more on edge than usual, but I hear he’s working on his temper.” 

“He’s not body slamming any more teenagers?” 

“Not that I know of.”

“Good.” You paused, “If he gives you any more trouble, send him my way. I’ll give him a piece of my mind.” 

Miles saluted you, “You got it.”

You meant it as a joke… but you also wanted a reason to see him again.

You were just about to switch the light off in your classroom when a flash of yellow caught your eye. Tucked behind a stack of newsprint, the vine charcoal rubbing away on your fingers as you carefully lifted the papers, was your prized pair of yellow converse.

It was too late to think about how they’d ended up so far from home, so you tossed them in your bag, threw out the coffee cups, and saved your muddled mind the trouble of figuring it out tonight.

The midnight subway car was filled with the usual Friday-night suspects - overworked nurses, loners just killing time, drunk party goers covered in more glitter than a kindergartener’s Valentine’s day card, and you.

You didn’t miss Richard, not really. What you really missed was coming home to someone and the feeling of another body weighing down the right side of the bed. More recently you’d been imagining what it would be like to come home to Miguel.

You kicked off your shoes at the bottom of the landing, shuffling up the steps and pulling off your clothes as you went, modesty be damned. By the time you face planted on your bed, hair still damp from the shower, it was nearing 2am and Miguel still hadn’t left your mind. He’d planted himself in your thoughts like a spider too high up on a wall for you to squash and too large for you to ignore.

Mercifully you didn’t have to endure the pains of a schoolgirl crush for very long. Sleep dragged you under and you welcomed it as your mind finally went quiet.

You awoke with a start, suffocating under the heavy blankets that you’d buried yourself in last night. You’d been dreaming again about the collider. You’d been dreaming about Miguel - this time in a feverish haze that left your mind in a puddle on the floor. 

How was it possible that a stranger could occupy so much space in your mind? It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that he’d held you like you were everything and then left without saying goodbye.

But you weren’t complete strangers…

“Aren’t you his wife?” 

Miles had asked the question so innocently and Miguel hadn’t said anything against it, so it must be true. Somewhere, in some other universe, you’d been married to one another. 

Are you thinking about me too? You wondered, opening your eyes in hopes of chasing the memory of him away.

…Maybe you were still dreaming, because the last time you checked you hadn’t fallen asleep under a tree in Central Park. And even if you had, you highly doubted you could have lugged your mattress and bed frame with you all the way from Brooklyn.

Oh por el amor de Dios.

The glorious thing about New York City is that everyone knew how to mind their own business. So when people saw a high school art teacher in Star Wars pjs leap for joy upon finding a $5 bill on the ground, they didn’t question it.

You were so ecstatic about saving yourself the two-and-a-half hour walk back to Brooklyn that you didn’t remember a highly important piece of information until after you hopped off the subway - you didn’t have your keys or your phone.

Joder. 

Your forehead knocked against the front door of your apartment building with an audible clunk.

“Por el amor de la mierda, ¿por qué mi vida es así?” You muttered under your breath. 

“Y/n?” Your landlord, Mrs. Fleming, pushed her tortoise-shell glasses higher up on her face, the thick lenses magnifying her eyes to bug-like proportions. “Oh it is you, my dear.” 

You groaned, color rushing into your cheeks as you turned around sheepishly. “Good morning, Mrs. Fleming.” 

The elderly woman gave you a once-over look, crocheting needles clicking together as she rummaged around in her bag for her keys, “The old walk of shame, I see.” 

“What?! Wait, no-this isn’t-I’m not-”

She patted you on the back before unlocking the door and holding it open for you, “I only use the turn of phrase because that’s what you young folks call it. Ain’t nothing shameful in it. It’s good of you to get out there. I never did like Richard much.”

You were at a loss for words.

Mrs. Fleming, sprightly as she was for her age, followed you up to your apartment with her extra set of keys jingling merrily in her hands.

“Now, you have a good rest of your weekend, dear.” She said once you’d been graciously let into your apartment, “And don’t forget your keys next time!” 

“Thanks Mrs. Fleming.” You said. Her amused chuckle echoed through the air as she shuffled off to her own apartment.

You sprawled out on the ground where your bed should have been, trying to even out your breathing as the reality of the morning’s events crashed down around you like a house of cards. 

This can’t be happening. ¿Qué diablos me pasa?

You rolled onto your stomach, repeatedly banging your face into a spare pillow to muffle the sound of your aggravated screams. 

The pillow accepted your frustration with little complaint until something in you just snapped. 

All at once the pillow disappeared from beneath you and then blinked into existence by the closet allowing your face to crash into the floor unprotected.

You grabbed at your burning nose, eyes swimming with tears of pain as you registered what had happened. 

“No… oh no.” 

>>>

The rain beat down irregularly, fluctuating back and forth from being barely a drizzle to a torrential downpour. 

You gripped an empty to-go cup in your hand, the tea you’d hoped would calm your nerves long gone. 

It took you three hours to make it here. First you kept teleporting your keys away every time you touched them, futilely chasing them around the apartment. Then you’d nearly gotten hit by a taxi and teleported yourself to the bathroom of a tea shop on the Upper West Side. Miraculously your powers had quieted after that, allowing you to get on the subway and here without incident.

A familiar figure made its way down the block, hood up to protect from the rain.

“Miles!” You leapt up from your seat, racing across the street to the annoyed honking of two taxis. 

“Miss Y/l/n? How’re you doing?” Miles narrowed his eyes in worry, seeing the way your fingers nervously pulled at a loose string from your sweater, “What happened to your face?” The flesh around your nose was red and tender, slowly transforming into a purple bruise.

“I’m sorry for bothering you like this, but I didn’t know where else to go.” You looked around carefully before lifting the cup in the palm of your hand.

You furrowed your brow in concentration, willing that same power within you to snap into place again.

“What’s supposed to-” 

“Just-just give me a minute.”

A minute passed, and nothing. Your heartbeat quickened as you grew more and more flustered.

“Miss Y/l/n are you sure you’re ok?” Skepticism and genuine concern laced his voice.

“I’m fine!” 

Snap!

The cup blinked out of existence like an old-school television that had been turned off. Miles saw it reappear over the park across the street and land on a dog walker’s head. The man in question looked up at the sky bewildered, like he expected to find God there.

Miles’s wide eyes met yours.

“Oh shit.” 

He pulled you into the empty alleyway behind his building, using his spider webs to straighten the trash cans that rolled around on the ground and clear out a space large enough for the two of you to comfortably stand side by side. 

He hung close to the street, Gwen’s face shimmering to life above his wrist as he spoke with his back turned to you.

“Hey, Gwen. I’ve got a situation.” He whispered into the watch.

You caught snippets of their conversation, shrinking in your coat as you tried to suppress the anxiety growing in your chest. If there was anything you’d learned about your powers it was that they tended to flare up with your emotions.

“Do you think we can trust him with this? I don’t want anything to happen to her… Yeah, yeah. No, I understand. I’ll bring her in. See you later.” 

Miles turned back to you, a strained smile on his face, “Sorry about that.”

“Miles, what’s going on?” “I got to bring you into Spidey HQ. I don’t know what’s going on with you, but Miguel might.” 

He unzipped his raincoat and hoodie, exposing the black and red spider-suit beneath and tugging on his mask. 

Your heart gave a flip at the mention of your husband’s name (could you even call him that?). Would he be happy to see you again? Would things be awkward between the two of you?

A familiar watch flashed on his wrist as he began pressing buttons on the orange holographic screen. You’d seen it happen before, a portal of wild glitching colors pulsing to life in front of you, but that didn’t make it any less impressive. Miles stepped into it, dragging you along with him like he was just passing through any regular doorway.

He swept his arm outward, smiling at the expression on your face.

“Welcome to Spidey HQ, Miss Y/l/n.”

Your jaw dropped as you passed through the portal - an actual portal - to Miguel’s dimension. 

Hundreds, no thousands, of Spider-People roamed the open air halls, some on two legs, some on four, some on wheels, and some just preferred to swing through the air on webs, catching and releasing the nimble strings with practiced grace from the walkways that crossed overhead like… well like a spider’s web. 

Miguel certainly hadn’t wasted the spider concept when it came to their headquarters.

“I didn’t know there was a universe composed entirely of Spider-Men…Spider-People?… Spider…” A cat hissed at your feet when you nearly stepped on its tail as you blindly followed Miles through the crowd, “Spider-Things?” 

“Sorry Spider-Cat!” Miles said as the feline grumbled, tail high in the air as it calmly leapt onto the wall and continued on its way as though gravity were only an inconvenience. 

“Actually, every world has only one Spider-Person, but the Alchemax explosion last year ended up opening holes into other universes. Miguel created this place as a hub for Spider-People while everyone tries to fix the anomalies.”

“Anomalies?”

“Yeah, beings that have accidentally gotten stuck in another world.”

“Oh… yeah that makes total sense..” Your words trailed off as a roaring laugh caught your attention, “Is that… is that a dinosaur?” 

You pointed at the group crowded around a cafeteria table howling with laughter. Burgers bounced on trays as the T-Rex doubled over to slap the table for dramatic effect.

“AY YO, REXA!” Miles shouted over your head, throwing his arms up wildly. 

Rexa exposed razor sharp teeth in a grin and waved one short arm towards you. You returned a meek wave in return. 

“That’s Rexa. She’s super funny. Just uh…” he covered his mouth before whispering in your ear, “Maybe don’t mention anything about her arms. She gets a little sensitive.”

“Oh…yeah, of course. No problem.” 

Miles continued to lead you through the building, periodically taking breaks for you to catch up as you kept your eyes trained on everything except the path he’d carved in front of you. At one point you simply disappeared from view, reappearing four stories up in a psychiatrist’s office.

A tweed-suited Spider-Man jumped in his seat, dropping the box of tissues he’d been preparing to throw to his client. 

“Oh! I… I’m so sorry.” You said, flustered at the sight of a sandy haired Peter Parker variant sobbing his eyes out into a spider plushie. You inched along the wall towards the door, “I’m just-I’m just going to make my way out.”

You closed the door as quietly as possible, turning around and coming face to face with Miles again. You jumped and snapped, this time landing on Rexa’s table, foot squishing her burger into roadkill.

You groaned and tilted your head up, watching Miles sail out the office window and swing his way down. 

This was going to take a while.

There was no shortage of Spiderpeople to steal your attention, but finally after a few (uninterrupted) turns down pristine white hallways and an elevator ride into the belly of Spidey HQ, it was just you and Miles again.

From his lair, Miguel traced your figure with his eyes. When you caught sight of the camera in the elevator, its red pupil narrowing in on you, you smiled sheepishly and waved. The small action made his stomach flip like a schoolboy who’d been given his first kiss. 

He needed to pull himself together before he saw you face to face again.

“I’m just saying, I think this is a good thing, Miguel.” Peter B. said, swinging up to the platform and wrapping an arm around Miguel’s broad shoulders. Mayday crawled out and onto the control board, pressing buttons haphazardly and closing half the screens. She clapped her hands in wonder and Miguel grumbled half-heartedly. 

Once she started walking, all bets were off. She’d be an absolute menace to Spider Society. Already she liked to treat Miguel like her personal playscape, crawling onto his shoulders and tugging at his brown curls. 

Her antics almost made him smile… almost.

“If she’s here then that can only mean something’s wrong.” Miguel said, keeping his eyes fixed on the screen and ignoring Mayday as she slumped over his back, slowly sliding down his chest and into his waiting arms with a dramatic sigh. 

You looked tired and nervous, fingers tugging at the strings of your raincoat. A purple bruise spread out from your nose, moving with the curve of your cheekbones. Had someone hurt you? 

Miguel’s blood began to boil.

“Or,” Peter bumped his hips against Miguel’s, “it could mean she wants to see you again.” 

“Stop that.” Miguel growled.

“Stop what?”

Stop giving me hope.

Miguel was about to bite back at Peter and wipe the mischievous grin on his face when the doors slid open. Miles’s voice rang through the empty space. 

“These are all those anomalies I was telling you about. Doc Oc, Rhino, Sandman, Mysterio. I don’t even want to know who that is.” 

“Why is it so dark in here?”

“Miguel likes to brood. I think he’s part vampire.” 

Miguel tossed Mayday into her father’s arms, swiftly turning around and busying himself at the control panel to distract from the pounding of his heart. A dozen screens flashed to life above the control board and Miguel concentrated on none of them.

Peter grinned like a madman. This was going great. 

“Miss Y/n!” He shouted out, throwing his hands in the air before hopping off the platform. Mayday squealed in delight and copied his actions. Miguel only cursed under his breath and rubbed his temples. Leave it to Peter to be the cause of 90% of his headaches.

“Looking good, teach!” 

“Ummm… thanks?” You responded as Mayday grabbed at you with chubby fingers. You didn’t have much choice but to hold her as Peter thrust her into your arms. Fear jolted through you like a lightning strike and you quickly handed her off to Miles, the poor girl frowning and continuing to make grabbing motions at you. The last thing you wanted was to make Mayday disappear from your arms.

Peter tipped his head to the side but for once made no comment. He continued to chat you up, pulling small smiles from your lips and ignoring the way you kept glancing at Miguel as his platform slowly lowered to the ground. 

He had his hands on his hips, bright red and blue Spider-suit cutting a striking silhouette against the dark background. 

If he’d noticed you walking into the room, he didn’t show it and you tried your best not to deflate at that realization. 

“Don’t worry. He just likes to make an entrance,” Miles whispered in your ear. And some entrance that was. He stepped off the platform, back tight and straight as he moved forward with measured, even footsteps. 

Miles took one step forward, angling his body in front of you with a weariness in his eyes. 

Miguel stopped, face betraying nothing as he looked you up and down once.

“I never thought I’d see you again.” The words would have sounded romantic coming from someone else’s lips, but from him they just sounded dry and clinical.

“Same here.” You said. The words came out breathlessly.

“What’s happened?”

His hand hovered in the air between you two before he swiftly dropped it to his side. He wanted to reach out and touch your face. He wanted to tilt your chin upwards so he could take a good look at the damage done to your nose and make sure you were ok. Perhaps if you’d been alone he would have allowed himself to do it, but as it was, they had company. 

“We need your help, Miguel.” Miles cut through the tension, “Something’s up with Miss Y/l/n. She’s got powers now - teleportation similar to the Spot’s.” 

His heart stuttered in his chest.

“Is that true?” he said, desperately looking to you for answers. The Spot’s powers had made him unstable in more ways than one and Miguel shivered to think about anything happening to you.

You nodded, “Things keep disappearing when I touch them. Sometimes I accidentally teleport to places when I’m frustrated. I didn’t realize what was going on until I woke up in Central Park last night.”

Miguel turned around, muttering under his breath as his mind raced a thousand steps ahead of him. 

Of all the people this could have happened to, it had to be you. He thought he’d done the right thing by leaving you alone, forcing himself not to portal to your dimension every night. His multiversal travels had taught him a thing or two about the ways things operated. Some figures, like Peter Parker’s Spider-Man were well represented across worlds. Some figures, like himself, were harder to come by. 

As for you? He only knew of three worlds where you existed - in one world, his actions had led to your death and the death of your daughter. In the second, Spot had murdered you in his quest to figure out Spider-Man’s identity. 

And in this one… 

Well he thought he’d been keeping you safe. 

Teleportation was a dangerous ability - unpredictable and difficult to control. Left unchecked you could find yourself in front of a car speeding down the highway or at the top of Mount Everest or in a different dimension altogether, constantly glitching as your molecules broke apa-

“Wait,” Miguel stiffened, back tightening as he swiveled around on his heels, “Where’s your watch?”

“My watch?” you glanced at your naked wrist, “I mean I usually just check my phone for the t-”

“No, your day pass watch. The thing that stabilizes you in this universe.” 

Miles’s eyes blew open. “Mierda. Sabía que había olvidado algo.”

“How long have you two been here?”

“Maybe two hours.” You guessed.

“And nothing’s happened?”

“Is something supposed to happen?” 

Even Peter B. looked concerned. Panic rose in your chest and you threatened to snap. Miguel reached out and grasped your wrist, palm sliding down until you felt the weight and warmth of his hand wrapped in yours. He led you to the med bay, Peter and Miles following closely behind.

The paper atop the padded examination table crinkled as you took a seat, watching Miguel’s broad shoulders flex and stretch as he dug an extra watch out from the back of a cabinet.

“Lyla, run a scan of Y/n.”

The woman flickered to life in front of him. “What’s the magic word?” She fluttered her eyelashes.

“Lyla.” He was in no mood for games today

“Ok, ok. Don’t be testy.” Lyla appeared in front of you, an orange scanner materializing in her hands that swept across your body with a cool touch. “Scan complete.” 

“Here you go,” Miguel felt some relief pour back into his body as he fastened the watch around your wrist, hand lingering against your pulse like he wanted further confirmation that you were alive and well.

“Hey, why does she get one of the fancy ones?” Miles protested. The watch, identical to the ones worn by Miguel, Peter, and Miles flashed its face at you. It was far too elaborate and expensive to be just a day pass.

Miguel ignored him, walking over to one of the monitors and skimming through the output data.

“It took six months for Miguel to give me one of those bad boys,” The paper crinkled again as Peter hopped onto the table beside you, whispering, “Looks like someone’s got a favorite,” and earning a glare from Miguel. 

Peter winked suggestively.

Miguel scowled.

Your cheeks turned a rosy red, your coat disappearing from around your shoulders and landing in a rumple at Miguel’s feet like the world’s worst suggestive gesture. Peter howled with laughter.

“No puedo creerlo.” Miguel whispered, his voice tinged with disbelief. “Lyla, am I looking at this right?”

“You sure are. Y/n’s DNA is perfectly stable. Not a trace of multiversal quantum poisoning to be found. And! Her radiation signature matches that of more than a thousand different universes. Bet you’ve never seen that before.”

“How is that even possible?”

“Hmmmm, let me think.” Lyla spun around in a digital office chair, waiting for her moment to break the dramatic pause. Miguel groaned - he would need to improve her code and tone down the dramatism. “Looks like packets of quantum energy from across the multiverse were released during the Alchemax hypercompact fusion explosion and merged with the only unaltered sentient lifeform in the vicinity.” 

“Dios mio.”

At the end of her explanation she bowed gracefully, arm and fur-lined coat sweeping off to the side.

“Did you get any of that?” Peter asked out of the corner of his mouth.

“Peter, I took forestry as my science gen ed in art school and barely passed so… no.”

“Uhhh, can you repeat it for the rest of the class?” Miles piped up. 

Lyla leaned forward, one hand on her hip and the other tipped her heart-shaped sunglasses onto her head. 

“Y/n absorbed energy from a ton of different universes so as far as the multiverse is concerned, she doesn’t register as an anomaly. No glitching. No dying outside of her universe without a watch. No predicted multiversal collapse.” Lyla smiled. “Predicted.”

You looked less than pleased. The last month had been filled to the brim with life-altering events from finding out Miles was a superhero, to getting kidnapped and nearly dying, to finding out your variant’s husband was an all-too-attractive, brooding Spider-Man. It was getting to be too much - you were a teacher for crying out loud! Maybe you’d have handled it better if you were a crime-fighting detective, or a fancy scientist, or a millionaire with access to the latest tech and weapons. Instead you were just… you.

“Can you fix it?” 

Miguel flinched at the look on your face. You were looking to him for help and for answers, but he couldn’t provide them in any satisfactory way. He’d never encountered anyone with your abilities. 

The confusion and fear that came with discovering your powers - that was a journey all Spider-People went through, and they usually went through it alone.

Miguel sighed, “There’s nothing to fix, Y/n.” He said the words with a softness no one had heard from him in years, perhaps ever, “This is who you are now.” 

“So I’m just going to be stuck like this forever?”

“Having powers isn’t so bad.” Peter chimed in with a small smile. “From time to time, it can actually be pretty awesome.”

You allowed a small, empty smile to grow on your lips. It was a smile Miguel was well acquainted with - the kind of smile that said I’m not fine, but I want you to believe that I am.

“I have some tests we could run.” Miguel offered up, “I can’t reverse what’s happened but maybe I can come up with something to help you control your powers, at least while you’re learning how to use them.” 

You nodded, the smile turning into something real, “I would like that. Thank you.” 

Peter was practically vibrating with excitement when he caught the look that passed between the two of you and the hint of hope on Miguel’s usually stony face. 

He clapped his hands down on Miles’s shoulders, “Well would you look at the time? I need to put Mayday down for her nap and grab some food. You’ll learn this soon enough, but being a superhero does burn the calories.” 

He hopped off the table, waltzing all the way to the door before he noticed that Miles was missing from his side. “Miles! Come join me.” 

“Actually, I was going to wait with-”

“Miles.” Peter coughed into his fist, bug eyes burning into Miles until he got the hint.

“Oh? Oh! Yeah, sorry Miss Y/l/n, I forgot I told Gwen I’d meet up with her.” 

You waved him off, “I’ll be fine, Miles. Thanks for everything.” 

“I’ll show her how to use the watch and send her home when we’re finished.” Miguel said, pulling on a lab coat that had been draped over his office chair. He rarely had time to work in the lab, more focused on his primary duty of maintaining the stability of the multiverse, but the familiar glide of the fabric over his skin did help to relax him. It reminded him of the old days when Spider-Man didn’t exist and the multiverse was just a fun theory tossed around at company lunches. 

A thin silence stretched between you two after Miles and Peter left, and you contented yourself with watching Miguel as he busily typed away at his monitor, labeled vials, and prepared the syringes. Every movement was practiced and controlled like he’d done this a million times before.

Miguel was screaming on the inside. You were close enough for his heightened senses to pick up on the honey lemon shampoo you used tinged with the woodsy scent of linseed oil. He was powerless under your gaze like an insect trapped under a microscope.

“I just need to collect some blood samples.” Miguel said, gently holding out his hand. You offered your arm up without complaint, distracting yourself from the pinch of the needle by reading the faded name tag printed on his lab coat.

You whistled low to break the tension, “Dr. O’Hara. That’s impressive. What kind of doctor are you?”

“I was a geneticist. Not the medical kind though. I worked in research at Alchemax.” 

“Is that how you got your spidey powers?”

He rolled his eyes, “They’re not spidey powers, they’re acrachno-humanoid genetic augmentations.” 

“Qué estúpido. Just call them spidey powers. You scientists just like to give things complicated names to feel superior.” The corner of Miguel’s lips quirked up every so slightly. The thrill of seeing any emotion on Miguel’s face lightened the feeling in your chest.

“Was it hard becoming Spider-Man?” You asked.

Miguel shrugged, wiping away the small bead of blood on your arm. “I had it easier than most. I was already looking into the possibility of combining human and arachnid DNA and I had the resources to study my powers.” Miguel paused. It had been a long time - too long - since he’d had a conversation like this with anyone. He could cast his mind back to talks with you his wife, but those had always been domestic in nature.

“The hardest part was not having anyone to talk to.” He said, finishing his thought.

“Sounds lonely.” You remarked, accepting the q-tip from him and swabbing the inside of your cheek. He collected the sample in a vial of greenish liquid and gave it a thorough shake, “Do you have people now that you talk to?”

“No.” His answer was short and to the point. 

You’d touched a sore spot and you decided to prod it. “Would you like someone to talk to?” 

Again, the corner of his lips twitched, “Are you offering?”

You copied his shrug from earlier, “Maybe.” 

He took a few more cheek swabs and then a strand of hair. His hand lingered by your cheek, frowning as he took in the bruise on your face. 

Now that you two were alone he dared to gently tilt your head to the side.

“You never told me what happened.” 

Your hands flew up to your face in embarrassment and Miguel saw the tips of your ears grow red. He liked it.

“I may or may not have teleported my pillow away right before smashing my face into the floor.” 

The breath left his lungs in a quiet chuckle. That sounded like something you’d do.

“But no one’s bothering you?”

“What? Oh no. No, it’s nothing like that.” 

He nodded, the tightness in his chest unraveling with that knowledge. He knew you weren’t his wife and he knew that you didn’t know him well enough yet, but that didn’t stop him from caring. The truth was he liked you from the moment you slapped his shoulder and cursed at him, and it wasn’t just because you looked like someone from his past.

“This will take some time to work through.” He tilted his head towards where the tabletop machines whirred and spun, “But if I’m right, I may be able to adjust your watch to stabilize you in a specific place, not just a specific universe. It’s not a permanent fix but you won’t be waking up in Central Park again anytime soon.” 

“That would be preferable.” 

You moved to take off the watch and hand it over to Miguel but he stopped you.

“Keep this one. In case anything happens you can contact me or the other Spider-People,” He said, walking her through the steps of using the watch, “Headquarters is always open so if anything happens, come here.” 

You nodded. With an encouraging look from Miguel you punched “Earth-1610” into the locator and then your home address. 

Just like last time the portal bloomed open beside you, scattering a few loose papers on the ground. Through the portal you caught a glimpse of your living room, citylights flashing outside your window.

“Come back next week. Until we have a better understanding of your powers it would be good for us to monitor you and check that you’re stable.” 

And it would be good for you to see her again. 

Miguel squashed the thought as soon as it popped into his brain in Peter’s voice. He really needed to stop spending so much time with him. 

You stepped through the portal and were embraced by the familiar smell of your apartment. It made you feel better about what was to come. You turned to smile at Miguel, his tired eyes lighting up ever so slightly.

“I’ll see you next week then.”

<- Previous chapter Next chapter ->

_________ Author's note: Here's the next chapter! Let me know what you guys think of the writing and where the story is going. I'm hoping to dive more deeply into Y/n x Miguel's relationship in the coming chapters so get ready for angst and fluff!

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[sunhoures]

And It Was All Yellow

pairing: wonwoo (svt) + reader (fem.)

genre: fluff, strangers to friends to lovers, photographer!wonwoo, artist!reader (+ journalist!mingyu)

word count: ~5.7k

synopsis: wonwoo doesn’t believe in love at first sight, but he finds himself falling for you a lot sooner than he thought possible

inspired by: the text post pictured above ^^ & the song “yellow” by coldplay 💛

posted: august 21, 2023

The weather in Seoul was dull—gray clouds and scattered, drizzling rain suspended over the city since dawn had broken. Most people hated such weather, but Jeon Wonwoo was not one of those people. In fact, he found comfort in the gloominess. He enjoyed the idea of having an excuse to stay in. And if he did need to go outside, he liked that there was a lack of the usual crowd of people that would be around if the weather was more ideal. Traffic was less compacted. Lines of any kind were short (or non-existent). The city was quiet, just as he liked it.

On days like today, he preferred to spend his time inside with a book or playing video games. But work had been scarce for him these past few weeks, so when his best friend, Mingyu, had informed him of a job offer he had no choice but to accept it. That’s how he ended up at a local art museum downtown at 9:45 a.m. on a Thursday morning. Despite the doors not opening for another fifteen minutes, a worker had let him in through the front door when he got her attention and pointed to his camera bag. She realized he didn’t have an umbrella with him, and so she quickly let him in. Luckily he had a raincoat over his outfit and a hat to protect his hair, so the most he had to deal with was a little rain on the back of his neck. He thanked the worker, staying close to the door to get any glimpse of Mingyu arriving.

In the meantime, he watched the cars pass by outside, each one splashing water out of the puddle and onto the sidewalk just in front of the entrance to the museum. He noticed it had lightened up a bit outside, the sky turning from a darker gray to a lighter gray with wispy, white clouds. He wondered if anyone would even show up to this exhibit opening in such weather conditions.

About five minutes after he arrived, Mingyu came knocking on the door, covering his head with a magazine. The worker came back and opened the door for him, deciding to leave it unlocked. Wonwoo’s younger friend came in, complaining under his breath about forgetting his umbrella and getting wet. He shook the sopping magazine, droplets of water falling onto the concrete floor. His gray button-up was a darker gray on the shoulders and sleeves from the rain that seeped into it. Wonwoo noticed the worker glaring at his friend for dripping on the floor and tried not to let his amusement show.

“Forgot your umbrella too?” he questioned Mingyu, “Hopefully your notebook didn’t get ruined.”

His friend looked to the bag he had hanging from his shoulder. The bag didn’t have a zipper, but it did have a flap that fell over the opening to keep it “closed” in a sense. He quickly shoved his hand inside, feeling around for his notebook. When he felt the edges of the paper and confirmed they were dry, he smiled, “All good. And why so early? That’s unusual.”

“I’m never late,” Wonwoo defended.

“Yeah, but if I tell you to be somewhere at ten a.m. you usually don’t walk in until nine fifty-eight.”

The older of the two shrugged, “Got an early start today.”

The two men began their work day, Wonwoo fine-tuning the settings on his camera to his liking while Mingyu made some preliminary notes in his notebook. They set up together in the lobby, but once the artist had arrived, Mingyu excused himself to greet her. Wonwoo stayed in the lobby, taking a couple of test pictures to see if anything else needed to be adjusted. Around him several museum workers, journalists, and other photographers were gathering with the artist. Wonwoo wasn’t the biggest fan of interacting with strangers, so he kept to himself. Luckily, he busied himself with his camera which was enough to keep people from disrupting him.

Once Mingyu returned to his friend, the two joined the growing crowd waiting by the entrance to the new exhibit where a ceremonial ribbon cutting was about to take place. Wonwoo found the ribbon to be a bit superfluous. Nonetheless, he stood towards the back of the small crowd, arms crossed and camera slung around his neck by its strap. He was hired to take some pictures of the event and the art pieces for Mingyu’s article, and that was it. It was somewhat easy money for him, but it did take more time and social interaction than he liked. Truthfully, he couldn’t wait for this to be over and go home to edit.

He watched you, the artist, get behind the ribbon and make your speech thanking everyone for showing up. He snapped a couple pictures as you thanked the museum for giving your art a home temporarily. After a few minutes, you ended your speech by giving a small spiel about how art was therapeutic to you and it should be for everyone else. He found himself subconsciously nodding in agreement, because photography was a form of therapy for him as well.

The ribbon was cut after your speech, and the congregation of guests entered the exhibit for the first time. Mingyu and Wonwoo brought up the rear, but they were just as astonished as every single person ahead of them when they saw the art on display. Several paintings of various mediums hung on the walls, varying in size. The large columns in the middle of the room also held paintings on them, each piece of art accompanied by a small plaque with information about it—like the title and date. Mingyu, just like the other journalists, was already jotting down notes in his book, the tip of his tongue poking out of the corner of his pressed lips in concentration. Wonwoo peered around the room, simply taking everything in. His hands held his camera which was still hanging from his neck.

The two friends walked around together, patiently waiting for the other guests to continue on before taking their time in front of a piece to write or take pictures. As they got to the last few paintings, Mingyu made a comment about finding the bathroom, and that he would be back shortly. Wonwoo nodded and continued to snap a few pictures of the paintings before him. He came to a stop in front of a simple painting of sunflowers; the acrylic paint forming a kind of 3D effect on the canvas. He stared at that one for a moment longer than the rest of them, not for any particular reason, he supposed. It didn’t stand out from the others or anything, but he liked it for a reason he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“Do you like sunflowers?”

Your voice startled him, though he didn’t show it. He merely turned to you, giving you a small nod of acknowledgement as well as a small, polite smile, “They’re fine I guess.”

“This was one of my first pieces I made in art school,” you explained, and it was then he noticed it did indeed have the earliest date posted among all of the canvases in the room.

“It’s nice,” he said, “Congratulations, by the way. You’re very talented.”

Your face broke into a sweet smile despite that being the nth compliment of this morning. Each one felt like a gold star being rewarded to you, and it filled you with happiness. You gestured to his camera, “Do you work for a magazine?”

“Um, sort of,” he shrugged, “My friend does, he just has me shoot pictures for his articles.”

“Oh, I do remember seeing you with someone,” you remembered, “Um, the tall one with the gray shirt, right?”

“Yes.”

“I see. I haven’t gotten to speak with him in depth yet, do you know if he’ll be back soon?”

“He should be returning from the bathroom soon,” he replied. Usually Wonwoo was terrible at making conversation with strangers. He dreaded it. But you gave off such a comforting, welcoming energy. He found himself wanting to talk to you about, well, anything, “This weather isn’t too ideal for this occasion, isn’t it?”

“The rain?” you asked, “Yeah, it’s a bummer, but the turn out was great still. I didn’t think so many people would come.”

“Why’s that?” his brow raised slightly in curiosity.

“I didn’t think my art was special enough to warrant such an exhibit. One of my mentors from art school is friends with the head of the museum, and he asked him for a favor. He’s put a lot of time and faith in me, but I don’t think my art is worth such a grandiose gesture,” you spoke so casually, as if it was fact. Wonwoo found your confession to be a little disheartening. Sure, the art might not have the prestige to qualify for the MoMA or the Louvre, but to someone like him who casually enjoyed art, your work was impressive.

“Well, I’m glad he did. Your work is amazing,” Wonwoo was a man of few words, but he hoped the few he could give would bring you some reassurance. And for the moment it did. You smiled warmly, perking up further when Mingyu returned to the both of you.

“Hello again, would you be able to spare a few minutes with me?” he asked you, already getting his notebook and pen from his bag. You agreed, and the two of you began a conversation while Wonwoo continued to snap some photos of the last paintings. When he was done, he waited patiently for you and Mingyu to finish your conversation. Around ten minutes passed, and the crowd was fluctuating as some people left and some newcomers joined. Wonwoo watched the guests observe the art, getting some inspiration to take photos of them as well. He figured some candid pictures would look nice too. He even got one of you and Mingyu discussing the sunflower piece before he approached the two of you again.

The three of you talked for what felt like hours but in reality was only twenty minutes. At some point the conversation had veered from art to your social lives. Mingyu was a very sociable, outgoing person, so it didn’t take long for him to strike a casual conversation with you. He had learned that the three of you frequented the same coffee shop a few streets away.

“We’ll have to get coffee together some time,” you said, “Should we swap numbers?”

Mingyu happily did so, and the two of you swapped phones to add each others contacts. You made a comment about getting with some other journalists, but you promised to stay in touch before leaving the two men with a “thank you for coming!”.

The rain had cleared up by the time the two friends left the museum. They walked together to the bus stop across the street, waiting for the bus that would be passing shortly. While they waited, they talked about the notes Mingyu got and the shots Wonwoo took.

“She was really sweet,” Mingyu said with a smile, “She told me she didn’t have many friends in the city. We’ll have to take her out with our friends some time soon.”

“Sure,” was all Wonwoo responded absentmindedly, replying to a text from his brother.

“She was pretty, too,” Mingyu added in a suggestive tone.

That made Wonwoo look up from his phone with a pointed look, “What are you implying?”

“Nothing,” his friend shrugged, but his expression was telling before his mouth was, “It’s just been a while since you’ve dated is all. You two seemed to be getting along well.”

The older man rolled his eyes, returning them to his phone as he opened Instagram and proceeded to scroll through his explore page, “I spoke to her for five minutes while you were in the bathroom. I’m not going to fall in love with her in five minutes.”

His friend sighed, “You’ll never fall in love if you’re not open to a potential relationship.”

Wonwoo got quiet then, and the conversation didn’t pick up again until shortly before the bus arrived. On the ride he thought about what Mingyu said. It was true, he hadn’t dated in a very long time, since college actually. Now that he was twenty-seven, it was getting harder and harder for him to find himself in a situation to meet someone. He rarely left his house. He spent his free time doing things alone, and when he did go out with his friends he stuck to them pretty closely. On top of all of that, he wasn’t the most approachable person. He wasn’t a cold person, or at least he didn’t consider himself one. But his looks gave the impression that he was, his sharp eyes and straight-drawn lips making him seem standoffish.

And unlike his friends, he didn’t believe in “love at first sight”. The idea of meeting someone for the first time and instantly being head over heels for them just didn’t connect with him. He didn’t understand how others felt that. When he dated in the past, it took weeks, even months to fall for the person he had a crush on. And he wasn’t necessarily upset with the way he lived; he didn’t mind being alone. Since he was a kid, he always felt more comfortable doing things by himself. But lately he realized his day-to-day did feel a little lonely, especially since most of his friends were settling down with their partners or moving away to pursue careers. Maybe Mingyu was right. Maybe he did need some kind of change.

The first time you hung out with the two men after meeting them at the museum, Mingyu had invited you to join them for lunch. The three of you ate Korean barbecue, learning a bit about each other over a few bottles of soju. Wonwoo didn’t do much talking that time, mostly speaking only when spoken to. You and Mingyu carried the conversations, not that either of you minded. You felt like Wonwoo would need time to open up to you, so you gave him that. Luckily, the two agreed to hang out with you again later in the week. Mingyu had to get some editing done, so he invited you and Wonwoo to keep him company at his apartment.

You were shocked when Wonwoo was the one to engage in conversation with you first, greeting you at the door and welcoming you in. He and Mingyu were preparing a simple dinner, so you sat at the kitchen island watching them cook. You noticed Wonwoo seemed more comfortable talking this time around. Maybe it was because you had hung out already, or maybe it was because he was in a familiar environment. Either way you liked seeing a little crack in the shell that kept his true personality shielded away from you.

Over a couple months the three of you became really close, and you had even met some of their other friends. Mingyu’s office wasn’t far from the art supply store you visited every week, so you made it a habit to visit him every Thursday on your supply runs. The two of you would get lunch or just sit in his office and talk during his break before you returned to your art studio. You really liked the friendship blossoming between you and the two men, but then one day something changed.

Wonwoo texted you out of the blue one Saturday mid-morning asking if you wanted to get some coffee with him. You found it odd that he texted you because he had never done that before. It was usually Mingyu who texted you, or they texted you in a group chat that you had together. Nonetheless, you responded with “of course!” and got dressed.

When you showed up to the café you were confused to see Wonwoo sitting at a two-seater table by himself. You noticed he looked like he put more effort into his appearance today. Normally when you hung out he was in lounging clothes—a simple shirt with sweatpants or maybe loose jeans. The only time you remembered seeing him dressed this nicely was the day you met, and he was working then. But he didn’t mention working today? So what could be the occasion for him to wear off-white pants, a mustard yellow sweater, and what looked like new shoes?

He was reading something on his phone when you approached him, the light from the screen reflecting on his thin-rimmed glasses. When you set your purse down, he looked up at you and gave you a small smile, “Hey.”

“Hi, is Mingyu not joining?” you asked curiously as you sat across from him. You didn’t notice when the corners of his mouth wavered for a second.

“No, he’s working. You’re stuck with just me today,” he joked.

You chuckled softly, “Don’t make it sound so bad. Was there a reason you wanted to hang out today though? I have to say I was a little shocked when you texted me.”

It was Mingyu’s idea, but Wonwoo didn’t want to admit that. His friend had pointed it out that the two of you had never hung out alone. He figured it might help Wonwoo warm up to you more if you spent some time together one-on-one. And even though he didn’t say it out loud, Wonwoo knew Mingyu secretly wanted the two of you to work out romantically—for whatever reason, he wasn’t sure. Wonwoo wasn’t completely closed off to the idea; you were gorgeous and friendly. But he knew it wasn’t going to be an overnight thing. It took weeks for him to feel comfortable with you as a friend, he could only imagine the time it would take to start a romantic relationship.

“I, um, just realized we never got a chance to hang out alone. We don’t really know much about each other outside of our hang outs with Mingyu,” he said. In that moment he also realized how tense he felt. His legs were stiff and knees were drawn in close together under the table. His fingers toyed with the wrapper of his straw from his iced americano. His shoulders were drawn in the slightest bit, and he could feel his posture was kind of terrible. He tried to relax without making it look obvious that he was tense in the first place.

“Yeah, I guess I figured you just didn’t like to socialize as much as Mingyu did.”

“I don’t, but I’m trying to be better about that,” he admitted, and you felt like you might actually be getting somewhere with him, “He teases me a lot about being a hermit.”

You laughed softly, and he smiled with you, “Well, it’s nice to see you coming out of your shell.”

After an appreciative look from him, you excused yourself to order a drink. Wonwoo immediately opened his phone and texted Mingyu.

wonu 🐈‍⬛: ok i’m here, now what do we talk about?

gyu 🐶: well first, don’t be on your phone smh. second, just ask her questions about herself. seem interested. try not to look bored like you always do

Wonwoo sighed in annoyance, ignoring the last part of his message as he turned his phone over on the table. You returned shortly after, also with an iced americano. He decided to give his friend’s advice a try, “Do you always order iced americanos?”

“Only sometimes. My go-to is usually a hot latte, but it’s a bit warm for that today,” you shrugged, taking a sip of your drink. He nodded in understanding, but he was unsure of what else to say. It was so much easier to converse with people you’ve been friends with for several years.

Luckily you had no issue with it, and you broke the awkward silence up for him, “How long have you been doing photography?”

“I’ve done it as a hobby since I was in high school, but after I graduated I started doing freelance work. So, almost ten years.”

“I’d love to see your work some time,” you spoke fondly, remembering the first time you met, “Your shots of my exhibit were amazing, so I can imagine the rest of your work is too.“

“My stuff doesn’t compare to the art you make,” he said it without even thinking. You weren’t sure if you should take it as a self-deprecating remark or flattery.

Your lips quipped into a thoughtful line before you derailed, “Okay, your turn. Ask me a question.”

“Oh, are we playing twenty questions?” Wonwoo joked, sitting back in his chair and sipping on his drink. The sunlight beamed directly across his right eye and onto his cheek. His eye was a deep chocolate brown color as opposed to the dark, cold, almost-black color it usually was. You wondered if his eyes were always that soft.

“Yeah, I’ve just decided. Your turn,” you repeated. You crossed your arms on top of the table, subtly leaning in as a sign of giving him all your attention. He fought the smile wanting to live on his lips, opting to look deep in thought. The two of you went back and forth for nearly half an hour, just asking each other questions. Some answers warranted tangents and story times before you went back to the questions, but you enjoyed it to the fullest. And truthfully, Wonwoo was too. He didn’t think he could get so much enjoyment from a game he used to play with his friends in grade school, yet here he was. On the verge of laughter as you told an embarrassing story from high school in which you were running late to school and didn’t realize until your second class that your underwear was stuck to the back of your shirt.

“I can’t believe you did that,” Wonwoo laughed softly, a crinkle appearing on the bridge of his nose, “I would’ve dropped out of school.”

“I thought about it,” you joked, a bashful smile on your lips as you remembered the story like it happened yesterday, “But yeah, if you’re going to get your clothes from the dryer, double check that your under garments aren’t stuck to them first.”

“Noted,” Wonwoo looked over and noticed that a new couple was sitting at the table behind you. That was the second time new people sat right there. He wondered how long you two had been sitting, but he didn’t want to check his phone in case you got the impression that he was in a rush to leave. Which he definitely wasn’t, “Okay, I think it’s your turn again.”

“Okay, um . . . “ your eyes searched the room for a question prompt, but you were grasping for straws- Wait, that’s it. Straws. The cups of plastic-covered straws on the counter were organized by color, one cup for each color they offered—pink, blue, and yellow, “What’s your favorite color?”

“Hm, why don’t you guess?” Wonwoo replied.

If he was honest, he didn’t really have a favorite color. He supposed if he considered it more he would settle for blue or purple, but he didn’t care enough either way. A good ninety-five percent of his wardrobe was black and five percent color, but he just liked black as a good neutral color to wear. He figured he would just let you guess until you decided to give up.

You thought about it for a moment, but no specific color came to mind immediately. His clothes were mostly black, but lots of people wore black clothing and had a favorite color that wasn’t black. His shirt was yellow as well as the straw for his americano, but there was no other indication that it would be his favorite color from what you could remember. Still, you figured it might be your best guess, “Yellow!”

Wonwoo couldn’t help but smile at your prideful declaration. You said it as if you knew it for a fact.

“Yeah.”

“Wait, really?” your eyes got wide and the grin on your face grew wide. Did you really guess it correctly in one try?

Even Wonwoo was shocked by his answer. Yellow wasn’t his favorite color. He didn’t have one. But you seemed so excited and hopeful and sure of yourself that he didn’t even think twice about his answer.

“Yeah, good job,” he praised you, and he had to admit to himself you looked really cute when you clapped your hands together in a small celebration for yourself, “What’s yours?”

“Pink,” you seemed visibly brighter when you answered. It made sense to Wonwoo. Pink was such a cute, bright, outgoing color. It signified friendliness and sweetness, and all of that just screamed you. Maybe he liked pink too. “It’s been my favorite since I was a kid. Everything I had was pink.”

“Pink suits you.”

You felt yourself flushing at the compliment, your smile turning sheepish, “I think yellow suits you, too. I’m picturing a nice pastel yellow for you. Very spring.”

He tried to picture it: him in a pastel yellow shirt. The mental image seemed foreign, since the mustard sweater he was currently wearing was the brightest color he had ever worn besides white. But he wouldn’t be opposed to it.

“Alright, your turn.”

A few more questions were exchanged between you two, long after your cups were emptied. The patrons of the café that had been present when you showed up were long gone, and new faces took their places. After a while you felt a little guilty for hogging the table for so long, even though it had only been a little under two hours. Wonwoo made a comment about heading out, so you both got up and threw your trash. He walked with you to the bus station, even though he had driven to the café in his own car. You thanked him for inviting you to hang out and told him that you enjoyed it.

“We’ll have to do this again some time, but maybe not tell Mingyu. He might get jealous,” you teased your non-present friend, making Wonwoo laugh softly. He knew for a fact that Mingyu would have no problem with it; he would probably encourage it, if anything.

“I don’t think he’d mind. He’s not usually the jealous type,” Wonwoo replied, stuffing his hands into his pants pockets. He tried to think of something you two could do together, and he recalled that during the twenty—more like fifty plus—questions you had said you liked video games too, “If you want, we could hang out at my apartment, play some video games. And order pizza or something?”

“That sounds like fun!” your eyes lit up at the idea. You had never actually been to his apartment before. Every time you hung out was at Mingyu’s place, your place, or somewhere in the city. You wondered what his apartment looked like. He seemed like the type to keep everything tidy and minimal, “I’ll be pretty busy this week, but maybe we can work something out for next weekend.”

“Cool,” he nodded and kept small talk until the bus arrived to pick you and a handful of other people up. He waved you off politely, and when you were out of sight, he let out a hefty sigh. It felt like a weight had been taken off his shoulders, but not in a bad way. He liked you, so there was this small, subconscious pressure that he felt to be more outgoing. He wanted you to like him too.

Over the next few weeks, there was a shift in the dynamic between the three of you, and it seemed to be obvious to everyone except Wonwoo. You and him had grown a lot closer as you started to hang out alone outside of your usual outings with Mingyu and their other friends. And it showed when the group was together. You always took the seat closest to Wonwoo. He laughed more at your jokes. You complimented his outfits—which were slowly but progressively becoming more colorful. He offered to walk you to your car or the bus or home whenever he could. Yet, still, when asked if anything was going on between you two, he seemed confused.

“It’s not like that,” he told Mingyu when the two were walking to a job they had booked one afternoon—a restaurant opening, “________ and I have gotten close, but not that close.”

“Hey, I know you wear glasses, but you can’t be this blind,” his friend retorted, “You two like each other.”

Wonwoo faltered a bit as he walked, but tried to play it off, “Did she say she liked me?”

“No, but she doesn’t need to. Neither do you, but as your best friend it would be nice if you told me these things.”

Wonwoo rolled his eyes, annoyed that Mingyu had made him think you had finally admitted having feelings for him.

“You two act like you’re in your own world all the time. The guys notice it, too, not just me,” Mingyu continued, “And since when do you like yellow so much?”

The question took Wonwoo so off guard that he laughed incredulously, “What?”

“She’s always giving you stuff that’s yellow. And you started wearing yellow clothes,” Mingyu pointed out. And it was true.

The first thing you had gifted him was a simple pen; it was a sunflower yellow color with black lettering etched on the side that said ‘hello, sunshine!’. He was confused when you had handed it to him that second time you hung out together to play video games. You showed up on his doorstep, telling him to close his eyes and put out his hands. When he had opened them again the pen was sat in his palms.

“What’s this for?”

“Nothing, I guess. I was at the supply store and noticed it by the check out, and I thought about you. So I got it for you. It’s cute, isn’t it?”

Wonwoo honestly had no reason to use such a pen since his day-to-day work required little writing. And most of his notes were made in his phone, but the sentiment behind your gift made his heart flutter, “It is. Thank you, _______.”

And nearly every time after then you had gifted him things similar. While at the park with him and Mingyu, you bought him a banana flavored popsicle, solely for the fact that it was yellow—and you were relieved to find out he liked the banana flavor. When you went bowling with their friends, you gave him the yellow ball and left yourself with the last one which was brown. When you went to Mingyu’s to see the two of them, you had brought them each a keychain from a new pop-up shop that was near your art studio. You gave Mingyu a red one that had a soccer ball on it while Wonwoo’s was yellow and had a sunflower on it. You had initially got it because of its color, but the flower reminded you of the day you met him, so it held even more sentiment.

And recently, Wonwoo’s favorite water bottle had broken, so while you were out shopping you had found one that was similar to it. The cap was a little different, but it had the same shape and size, and it was a golden yellow hue.

When you gave it to him, the two of you were about to leave his apartment to get some dinner at the fried chicken place down the street. You had mentioned that you had a surprise for him, then you fished the bottle out of your tote bag to show him. His heart skipped a beat and a smile crept onto his lips when he saw it.

“I know you probably won’t love it as much as your other bottle, but hopefully you still like it,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders. He took it from your offering grasp and shook his head.

“I do love it,” he said.

“You can leave it here while we go eat,” you turned towards the door, pulling your bag more securely onto your shoulder. But just before you could reach for the doorknob, Wonwoo’s voice called your name, making you turn back to face him, “Hm?”

Your eyes widened when you realized he was a lot closer than you thought, just a foot or so away from you. His tall frame seemed to tower over you, causing you to have to look up at him. You could see a struggle happening behind his eyes, as if he was going back and forth in his mind trying to decide on something. You were about to question him when suddenly he leaned forward and placed a quick kiss to your cheek. The skin that he touched felt hot in his wake, the warmth spread across your face and ultimately your whole body felt heated under his gaze.

“Thank you, ________. For everything,” he spoke softly, his anxiety apparent in his tone. He averted his gaze, looking down at his hands. A bracelet that you had bought him last week was wrapped around his wrist—white beads and yellow smiley face charms decorating it. For some reason seeing the jewelry gave him the little boost of confidence he needed to ask, “Would you like to make this a date?”

Your eyes widened even further, but you couldn’t ignore the flurry of butterflies going wild inside your chest, their fluttering wings tickling your heart. Your crush on Wonwoo had started long before his crush on you had formed, but that didn’t bother you. Because you knew that he liked you now, and you couldn’t pass the opportunity to say, “Yes.”

A charming smile grew wide on his face, prompting you to grin too. Happiness bloomed inside you, and the two of you walked out of the apartment suddenly feeling shy after wordlessly admitting your feelings for each other. Despite his nerves, though, Wonwoo found the courage to take your hand in his as you walked down the sidewalk to the fried chicken place.

Along the way you pointed out some yellow canola flowers planted outside of an office building, and Wonwoo decided in that moment that he would never get tired of the color yellow. The way your face lit up when you saw it or gave him yellow-themed gifts, he would always find it cute. As far as he was concerned, the entire world could be covered in the color yellow, and he would be content just knowing it made you happy. He no longer would appreciate rain; instead, he would look forward to sunny days when the bright, yellow sunlight would remind him of you and your kind heart. Maybe yellow wasn’t his favorite color at first but, over time, it would be.

— please like, reblog, and/or leave a comment! i appreciate your feedback! 🧸

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[ax-killjoy]

☆ you think i’m pretty ??

synopsis ! 𖦹 : things that make them flustered <33

notes ! 𖦹 : school, art block, and writer’s block has been kicking my ASS.

Lo’ak, Kiri, Neteyam x Gn!reader

Lo’ak

It was something simple, something that not even Lo’ak knew he could get flustered by. Yet something just hit him right in the soul, making his heart melt, he felt warm, a blush over this cheeks, up to the tips of his ears.

You had been teaching how to ride an Ilu, yet he was so fustrated. Why couldn’t he get this down ? If this creature was nicer than a Ikran, why couldn’t he ride it ? Irritation coursed through his body, his mind running almost a thousand miles an hour. As he falls yet again into water. The ilu almost laughing at him as it swims away.

He growls in frustration, angrily splashing the water as he wipes his face. “this is bullshit.” Lo’ak mutters, watching as you call for the Ilu again. You chuckle, resting your hand on his shoulder, caressing it slightly with your thumb.

“Don’t worry about it too much. You’ve got all the time in the world to learn this, Prettyboy.” You say ever so casually, petting the ilu and feeding it more fish.

Yet Lo’ak stood frozen, his tail up and his ears perked. “Pretty boy ?”

ﾟ*✩‧₊˚ !!

Kiri

Kiri has NEVER been one to have crushes. She remembers when Jake would talk about growing up with little puppy crushes, and Neytiri would explain about her younger years swooning over the male Na’vi.

But Kiri never really felt that kind of attraction, never felt the need to. She was too busy ! Her reckless brothers always did something stupid, leading her to heal them with her grandmother. Who she bickers with until no end, and she runs around the forest feeling Eywa beneath her feet and in the air, grabbing herbs for future salves. And if she wasn’t doing any of that, she was running around the forest with Tuk.

But now that she moved to Awa’altu, she had all the time in the world it seemed. She sat under water for what seemed like an eternity, staring at the colorful fish and feeding her ilu, staring into sand that hid small crustaceans. Now that she wasn’t busy, she had time to indulge in her feelings, indulge in her feelings for you.

The two of you had been wandering the island all day, it one of those days that neither of you had tasks. Planning this day in advance, making sure to do all the chores just so the two of you could run wild for the rest of the day. And now, it was almost eclipse. The two of you sat in the warm sand, watching as the night and day mixed, making a sweet gradient above. “You know, I could do this with you forever.” You say, and she looks at you. “Do what ?” she asks.

“This. Just being with you, being part of the land. I could do this with you forever.” You say, before looking back at the eclipse. And for the first time, Kiri feels a blush spread across her cheeks. Not a blush out of embarrassment, but a blush of giddiness, puppy love, and hope for the future.

･:* ೫̥♡*

Neteyam

Similar to Kiri, Neteyam was a busy bee. He ran everywhere, constantly doing different tasks and doing anything the people asked for. He was one of the best hunters for his age, constantly going on hunting trips with his father and other adult Na’vi, and coming back just to do more tasks. He sailed the skies and scouted for sky people during Operations, he listened in onto strategies for the War party.

And if there was ever a second that he didn’t have any tasks, he was playing with Tuk. Helping his mom with something, running around with his siblings letting them do whatever stupid things they planned. Only for them to get scolded by their father once they came home. A never ending cycle, a consistent and eventful cycle to say the least.

This was no different, you were another skilled hunter for your age. Jake had tasked both you and Neteyam to hunt together, to see who paired good with who, and to see what two amazing hunters could bring back. What Jake didn’t know is that the two of you made this into a game of tag. Whoever catches who first doesn’t have to carry all of the meat to the village.

Neteyam hid well into the trees, his breath covered by the sounds of strong winds and bustling trees. He had killed 2 animals already, thanked their bodies, and was ready to leave. Now he just had to see where you were to catch you.

Suddenly he hears a branch snap. Before he can turn his head, he feels something flipping him over, and his back hitting the soft soil. He lets out of low groan, he opens his eyes. The sun hitting his eyes, suddenly he saw your face above him. He feels the weight of you straddling him to keep him in place. You giggle and smile mischievously.

“Now you’re mine, tsamsiyu” you say softly, the vibrations of your voice make Neteyam’s ears perk up. Before Neteyam could even open this mouth you jump up laughing, “I won !! now go grab all the meat we got !!!” You cheered before running away.

He gets up, a raging blush runs across his cheeks to each of his ears, his tail swaying sharply. Oh Ewya, what did you do to him ?

ﾟ*✩‧₊˚ !!

Tsamsiyu - Warrior

[diabolicalacid]

birds of a feather— orpheus and eurydice

warning/s : suggestive content (smut), minors DNI.

you find yourself peeking at the door every once in a while. your focus should be fixed on the art assignment sitting on the easel in front of you. you’re due for a submission this week. but the brush held in your right hand, busy filling in the colours between the lines that are supposed to be a rendition of orpheus and eurydice, halts every time you look away and divert your gaze to the door, postponing the completion of your painting furthermore.

you don’t understand why your brain is unable to comprehend the fact that losing your focus and staring at the door won’t make time go any faster. there will still be thirty days in a month, twenty four hours in a day, sixty minutes in a hour, so on and so forth.

in your defence, it’s been forty minutes already. forty whole minutes since you received a text from atsumu, who told you he’d show up to your dorm room in twenty minutes. you don’t want to think of him negatively. however, you can’t help but wonder if you’ve been lied to once again by the same man, and if yes, how could you let it happen. you don’t want to doubt his word, but given the very recent history you share, you aren’t sure about the extent atsumu miya can be trusted to. in fact, you shouldn’t be wagering your trust in him at all.

because after last night, you really thought you had a chance with him only because he took you out on a wholesome date, made you feel like you’re on cloud nine, then fucked you dumb through the night. there’s no harm in saying that he led you on a little too much.

then, he went ahead and broke your fragile heart into a million tidbits. in his defence, he had a good enough reason to. now of course, he was clear about what he wanted from you, and under the circumstances that you were to date, you wouldn’t want your boyfriend to be thinking of some other chick while he’s with you. despite the realisation, your naive heart was and is still expecting more.

while you’re thinking through things, you realise, maybe, just maybe, you’re being a little delusional in this case. he was clear enough about his intentions, and you were the one who gave him a green light when it came to sex. putting the blame on him doesn’t cut it. if anything, you’re just as much to blame. but it’s easier for you to call him the bad guy. so that’s what you’ve been doing so far.

you think you need to buckle up and face the reality whatever it may be. whether atsumu remains in your life only as a friend or turns into a complete stranger, whether you end up dating him some time in the future, or if you end up in a casual relationship with him. no matter the outcome, you’ll have to face it head on without whining about it. consider it the consequences of your actions.

you leapt into something without giving it much thought, and now you must come to face the ending, may it be sweet or bitter. it doesn’t matter. you’ll have to accept things as they are. this is the philosophy you whisper to oneself, shading eurydice’s hair. you aren’t sure if she was a brunette or a blonde, so you stick to brown. kimura wouldn’t care much for it.

at twenty five minutes past three, there’s a knock at your door. you’re quick to drop your brush to the floor, splattering the pink paint on your carpet. you grimace at the splash of paint on your new carpet before you rush to the door.

you take a deep breath and arrange your thoughts before you open the door. you know it’s atsumu on the other side, and you have to train your brain before you let him in, so that this evening doesn’t lead to the same place last night led you to.

if he’s here for a conclusion, that’s all today will be focused on. although, you have to accept, last night was too good to be only a one time thing. so if his hands try something they shouldn’t, it might be difficult for you to resist as well. you really can’t blame yourself in this case, he was just too good last night. not that you can make a fair judgment, since he’s the only experience you’ve had so far.

there’s only so low you can stoop. from feeling absolutely ridiculous in your skin after you found out you were lied to by atsumu following your interaction last night, to thinking about offering yourself to him once again today, you can only curse yourself for having these thoughts.

in front of you, stands atsumu with a bouquet of flowers, not sunflowers, but roses. you bet he did that on purpose, but at least he got you flowers. it’s the thought that counts. there’s a transparent polythene bag in his hand containing snacks, a family sized tub of ice cream, and of course, the cake you made for him the night before, that he had taken with him when he left this morning. he really came prepared to save a damsel in distress. after ten years of rin, he sure does know how to warm a girl’s heart.

yours, being utterly gullible, is even easier to lure into a trap.

“here.” he holds out the bouquet of roses in the space separating the two of you, “for you.”

you offer him a bland smile, accepting the gift he has brought for you, “thank you.”

you head inside to place the bouquet of flowers on your bedside table, leaving atsumu hanging at the door. once the bouquet is set on the table, you turn around to return to him, hoping to relieve him of the load he’s come carrying.

you extend your hand, gesturing for him to offer you a few things to share the weight between the two of you. he hands you the packaged snacks sitting at the very top of the heap. you take them and enter inside, nudging atsumu, “come on in.” atsumu follows.

you roll your eyes, taunting, “you’re late.”

“sorry, cut-“ he stops, then rephrases and continues, “sorry, i mean, yn.”

your heart cracks when he refrains from calling you the nickname you were so generously offered yesterday. you don’t pay it much mind and continue walking ahead of him.

“i had to come over with resources.” he shrugs, patting your head, quipping at you, “for this whiny little girl.”

he mentions, “i had to take a detour, so of course, it took me some time.” his hand is still resting on your head as he follows you. you take it off and pick up pace.

you know he’s mocking you and that instantly spurs the anger within you. you want to turn around and smack him in the face, you want to show him stars in broad daylight, but you know better than to do that. you continue walking towards the tiny kitchen counter in your room to place the bags of snacks over it. atsumu follows, putting down the polythene bag on the countertop next to the snacks.

he picks out the packet of his favourite chips and his birthday cake from among the things he purchased for you and walks over to the bed. he jumps in, placing the packet of chips and the cake next to him.

from where he’s at, he can see you scanning around the various packets of snacks to pick out your favourite. you seem to be perplexed and unable to decide. he decides to help you out. he comes over to stand next to you, imitating your serious expression as you’re going through each packet. you look him from the corner of your eye, rolling your eyes as you pick out your favourite from the options available to you.

his hand curls itself around your waist, and he pulls you in by the side, whispering, “get me a spoon, will you?”

“what the hell?” you quake as his unexpected touch startles you.

you grip his hand and throw it off you. the audacity, you think to yourself. you turn around to face him, glaring daggers, seething, “behave.”

“you weren’t so stiff last night, cut—“ he smirks, then again, he stops mid sentence, clearing his throat, rephrasing, “yn.”

you roll your eyes at him, swatting his forehead, murmuring as you stand on your tip toes to lean closer to his face, deriving support by placing your hands around his neck, “just call me cutie if that’s what your mouth is trying to do.”

he looks at you, utterly smug, “that’s not what my mouth is trying to do, and you know it.”

you know exactly what he’s referring to, and you feel the blood rush to your cheeks, colouring them a dark shade of pink. atsumu kisses your flushed cheeks, putting his hand against your back.

“besides, i can’t risk it, someone takes things too seriously around here.” his palm moves to rest against the nape of your neck and he pulls you closer, his words falling onto your lips with only an inch of space separating them from his.

you choose to ignore the fact that he’s still taunting you. rather, it’s the proximity between the two of you that startles you. you can say it for a second time since crossing paths with atsumu, but you really weren’t expecting this.

you move back, finding yourself thrust against the edge of the counter. you turn your back on him and start nervously rummaging through the stand to look for two spoons, shaky hands unaware of what they’re looking for as you go through every utensil in the stand, coming across multiple spoons several times, but you fail to register the fact. he makes a note of this.

your hair is tied up, bound in a clutch, because you were busy painting and you didn’t want your it to be smeared in oil paint. atsumu unfastens your clutch, locking it around the sleeve of your sundress, allowing your long hair to flow against your back. you want to turn around and cuss him out, but you ask yourself not to. you want to grab your head and put it up in a bun. but you don’t. instead, you busy yourself, and you continue to look for spoons for the two of you.

you feel the air around you clear when atsumu walks away for a moment in response to his phone ringing. you breathe a sigh of relief, only to find yourself fooled. he cuts the call and makes his way back to you, coming to stand right behind you.

atsumu wraps his arms around your abdomen, resting his chin on your head, suggesting, “maybe i should help you look for cutlery.”

you squiggle your body, urging him to set you free. he lets go of you and positions himself next to you, intently staring at your nervous hands still looking around for the spoons, even though they’re resting right in front of you.

his hand takes a hold of yours, and he guides it around the counter in order to grab two spoons, poking your cheek, laughing, “here you go.”

he stands right behind you, grabbing your chin in his hand, with the other enveloping your waist. he leans forward, speaking in an undertone, “now, cutie. that wasn’t so hard, was it?” his breath is hot and as it settles against the skin of your face, your cheeks turn to red from the pink.

you gather yourself and hiss at him, shoving a butter knife through a pack of marshmallows lying on the counter, “no funny business.” atsumu drops your face, taking a step behind to create a distance between the two of you.

“we’re over.” you state, tossing the knife away.

he carefully collects your hair in his hands, positioning them in the front against your shoulder, exposing the skin of your back for him. atsumu envelopes his arms around your chest, catching you by surprise yet again. he leaves feathery kisses on the nape of your neck. then, on the skin of your back, forcing you to grip the edge of the counter.

he withdraws, shifting your hair to cover your back, mumbling next to your ear, “we were nothing to begin with.”

you’ve had enough. you pick the butter knife you previously threw away and turn around, threatening him, “you’ve got to stop.” the truth is, you’re enjoying this. it’s stimulating you and you wouldn’t want to miss out on the chance pleasuring yourself, but you don’t want to seem weak, so you decide to take a stand.

“just what are you here for?” you growl at him, hurling the knife at him, only because you know it won’t hurt. you’re no murderer, just a mad woman.

he raises his hand, catches the knife midway in the air, and snatches it away from your grasp. he twirls it between his fingers before he throws it to the floor, raising his brow at you, suspicious of your intent.

“i wasn’t actually going to hit you.” you mumble, scrunching your face.

atsumu suddenly sweeps you into his embrace, his hands engulfing you whole, making you lose balance, coercing you to take hold of his shoulders. you screech, eyes full of surprise wide open at him, “what the—“

“you ask what i’m here for, cutie?” he repeats your question to him, a coy smile lining his lips as he grabs a strand of your hair, curling it around his finger to play around with.

he answers, “to comfort you.” he kisses you on the lips. then, on your cheeks, followed by your neck, back to your lips.

you know you should push him away, but something about his tongue waging a passionate war with your own is enough for you to give in. his soft lips touching you at your weakest spots makes you weak in the knees. you’re no one to retaliate against a man who knows exactly what’s he’s doing. you don’t want to push him off you, you want more of him, and you want to give him more of you.

atsumu separates his lips from your own, and you’re gasping for breath. his hands find themselves trying to undress you, but you move, stealing your gaze away from him, denying, “not today.”

“i won’t give you any more of me if we’re not going to be exclusive.” you clarify, walking past him to take a seat on the bed.

he calls out in a playful tone to confirm, “you sure, cutie?”

“pretty much.” you raise your hand into a thumbs up, then pat the space next to you, inviting him to your bed.

atsumu jumps into the bed, rocking its frame, and takes the position right next to you. he gets comfortable against your pillow, and pulls you by the waist, closer to himself. you don’t refute, you only rest your head against his shoulder, placing the cake on his lap and the chips in the little space between the two of you.

you shove two spoons into the cake, one for each of you, making sly a remark, “this is what we should’ve done last night instead of what we actually did.”

atsumu let’s out a laugh, teasing you, “but you seemed to enjoy whatever we did.”

“you wanted more and more, cutie.” he simpers, his hand placed around your waist descends to reach your butt.

before he can spank you, you warn him, “stop.”

“no funny business.” you repeat yourself loud and clear, taking a spoonful of cake and placing it right in front of his mouth for him to eat.

he accepts your offering, his hand ascends and positions itself around your waist once again. he takes a spoonful of cake by himself and swallows it up before he reaches into the bag of chips to grab a few for himself.

you sigh, disappointment tainting your voice, “it seems this is the last time we’ll be seeing each other.”

“it seems that way.” atsumu agrees, holding out a chip for you to take. you take it, crunching it down. he offers you a spoonful of cake, you take that as well. you offer him a quick kiss on the cheek, leaving behind a little cream on his skin.

he wipes it with his hand, and you take his hand into yours, licking the cream off his fingers. you wrap your fingers around his, leaning against his shoulder comfortably.

atsumu suggests something he probably shouldn’t, considering the grim consequences spending a single night with you led to, “we should meet up for fun some times.” you choke on thin air, coughing.

you reject his idea, practically shouting at him in capital letters, “NO.”

“today, i like you. tomorrow, i might end up loving you.” you start justifying yourself at a hundred miles an hour, stuttering in the way, “while you’ll still be thinking of rin.”

“i really wouldn’t like that.” with that, you stop, take a deep breath.

atsumu nods, gabbling with cake swishing around his mouth, “understandable.” he grabs another spoonful of cake to eat. but before he can put it in his mouth, you take the spoon from his hands and eat the cake yourself, getting rid of the spoon. you take the box of cake off his lap and shove it aside.

you put yourself right on top of him, putting one of your hands on his shoulder and the other against his neck. you kiss him on his tragus first, then at the corner of his eye, then you peck his nose, place a chaste kiss on the corner of his lips, and finally, you kiss his chin, nibbing at it before you pause. his hand encircles your waist, supporting you as you continue to deposit kisses over his orofacial anatomy.

you mumble to him, lips pressing against his plender gap, “we shouldn’t meet up for fun.”

you continue kissing him, ascending to pull him by his collar, whispering against his lips, “doesn’t mean we can’t have fun for the last time, pretty boy.”

your hands, with a mind of their own, quite mischievous, lower themselves to unzip his jeans. you reach into his underwear to seize a hold of his cock. while stroking his dick with your hand, you lean closer to him, kissing him on the neck before you inquire, hoping to give him an erection as your hand gently explores his dick, “you like that?”

“oh my, cutie, you really are a feast to be around, huh?” he chuckles as he smirks at you, putting his hands on your back and your neck. you let go of his cock when you feel his grip tighten, thinking you’re overdoing it. he takes the opportunity to flip you over in an instant, quite effortlessly at that, taking you by surprise. he pins your hands to the side of your head, bending over to lay a kiss on your lips.

with him on top of you, and in control, his hands pull down the straps of your sundress, revealing your brasier that’s hot pink and strapless. he doesn’t care much for the colour, but the pattern that makes it very convenient for him to slide it off you, uncovering your breasts.

atsumu dips his fingers into the cake, smearing the cream against your cleavage. he proceeds to lick it off your cleavage. you aren’t sure where this is heading, but the next thing you know, his fingers are inside the cake again. this time, the cream is rendered on your boobs, and his tongue explores every inch of your breasts in an attempt to lick it all off you, sending your brain in a haze, irking you to whimper when you feel his tongue stroking your nipples.

“say, cutie, you like that?” he questions, raising a brow, smiling coyly at you.

you nod, huffing as you feel his hands cupping your boobs, and he squeezes them. you let out a cry.

he dips his fingers into the cake again, smearing the buttercream over your lips this time. he slowly licks it off your lips. you don’t find yourself pleasured by his action, so you dip your own fingers into the cake instead, and smear it on your breasts and your pussy.

“go on.” you order, winking at him as you grab his hair and pull his face closer to your chest.

he shakes his head, chuckling, “getting freaky, are we?”

atsumu’s tongue finds itself licking the cream off your breasts yet again, making you moan each time it slides over your nipples. he shifts himself downwards, pulling the dress off you as he goes down on you, layering your body with kisses. he throws it to the side.

his teeth grip the lace of your underwear, and he pulls it off your skin, tearing the fabric in the process. dropping it to the floor, atsumu’s tongue moves over to assist your pussy to clean itself. it explores the surface of your cunt, clearing it of the cream. once he’s done cleaning your cunt, he doesn’t stop there.

he inserts his fingers inside your hole, stroking your walls very slowly and steadily, making sure your feel every motion his fingers perform. feeling his fingers manoeuvre around your cunt effortlessly incites you to cum. your cum drips down his fingers, and he removes them outside to licks it off them, sneering at you as his tongue moves up his fingers, taking in your fluid.

atsumu puts his head between your legs again, shoving his tongue into your cunt, licking around your insides to stimulate you. when you cum once again, all over his tongue, he derives pleasure swallowing what came out of your cunt.

you’re so overstimulated by the movement of his tongue and his fingers, you find yourself gripping his hair and pulling him upwards and on top of you. your hasty hands take his jeans off him, then his underwear. you grab his dick, and begin stroking your hands over it. holding it firmly, you arch your back to reach closer and kiss his cock.

with your hands all over his cock, fidgeting around, his body can’t help but feel pleasured and the next thing he knows, he’s erect. his huge, veiny dick stares you in the face, making you proud of yourself. instantly, you want it inside your pussy or inside your mouth. either will do.

it takes you a lot of strength, but you tightly clutch onto his arms and flip him over. you take a seat on his legs, simultaneously dipping your fingers into the cake. you decorate his huge dick with the buttercream, ready to pleasure him for the evening.

your hands are sticky. you find your sundress lying next to you m, and wipe your dirty hands with it. you take hold of your clutch and secure your hair into a bun, making sure it doesn’t interfere. you bend over him.

you smugly smile at him, winking as you proceed to lick the cream off his large cock, gently stroking it concomitantly. every time the tip of your tongue coasts against the length of his dick, he feels his endorphins surge, and in the end, as you’re about to wipe the last bit of cream off him, he cums on your face.

you use your hands to wipe the creamy liquid off your face and smoothly slurp if off your hands. you go ahead and lap the cum dripping down his cock, taking it inside you without hesitation. atsumu cannot hold it back anymore. he needs to be inside of you. that’s the only way this evening will feel worth. his hands grip your body and he puts you under him.

he whispers into your ear, “okay, cutie, time to have some real fun.” with that, his huge cock is thrust inside your cunt. as you take it inside, you let out a humongous wail.

while he’s moving in and out of you, his veiny dick grazing past your walls, with the release of your pleasure hormones topping the charts, you can’t help but not want this moment to end at all.

౨ৎ summary of this chapter : what a waste of a perfectly good cake.

౨ৎ god sent down a brain cell and yn received it and put it to some use, but that didn’t last long.

౨ৎ atsumu didn’t get the roses on purpose, it’s just that the shop had run out of sunflowers.

౨ৎ atsumu had truly come over with the intention of “comforting” yn.

౨ৎ atsumu and yn need to be gifted some rubber.

previous : reality check

masterlist | next : men will be men

🐰my s/o is watching greys anatomy right now and he suggested i should break atsumu’s dick so that he stops fucking around with yn. if you know the reference, you know. okay, bye.

taglist— @wolffmaiden @kafkassexchoe @luna-mothii @bomjug @le000xxgrd @dazqa @ineednanami @iluvaquaphor @debussy42 @choizzn @bunninio @empress-pug-pug @karasunoya @sereniteav @yuminako @reooreo @loveelylacey @nbcvs

[astralprisms]

A comic page based on a fic I was writing, with art by @/LaFrenchbroiche in twitter, text is my own.

The Emperor gave us that recipe and it seemed a shame not to be able to do anything with it in game, so Xa'rok makes some adjustments (and some familiar mistakes)

The Emperor's voice rang suddenly in their mind, urgent. Take care not to--

It didn't get to complete the sentence before Xa'rok saw the smoke curl up from the fire in a great black plume. Xa'rok cursed and shifted the pot from the flames.

..burn it. Despite the momentary panic, the Emperor seemed almost amused. A beat passed before its voice slid back into Xa'rok's head again. Why do you think I included that note in the recipe?

Xa'rok licked an errant splash of cream from their thumb and shifted the pan back to the fire again.

"You wrote that?"

Xa'rok didn't rise to the bait. "You must have been close."

Copied, from a book of my mother's. That note was a late addition. Its attention grew pointed. She often complained that without it, I would become distracted, and forget.

Of what I recall of my human memories, very. Its voice grew distant, as if lost in another place. She was, without a doubt, the greatest woman that ever lived.

Xa'rok hummed thoughtfully. "There aren't any relationships like that, among my kin. I don't really have anything to compare it to. Rearing was the job of the Varsh, and guidance the purview of our instructors -- but I wouldn't call their instruction 'care', exactly." They gave the soup another stir.

"They readied us for life beyond the creche, yes; trained our senses, and strengthened our bodies, but it was nothing like this."

They removed the pan from the fire. The soup had grown thick and boiling, its creamy broth churning with butter and spices, studded with the thick-cut vegetable from which it got its name. It smelled strongly of the soil.

"We ate what we could find and fought one another for what we couldn't. Taste was hardly a factor in those calculations. I can't say I've eaten ferns before, though."

Had you been paying closer attention, you could have sampled them for the first time unburnt.

Xa'rok snorted. "And whose fault is that!? Your stories are a lot more interesting than watching some pot boil over."

As I've said, I've made the same mistake. Consider it...a rite of passage.

Xa'rok ladled themself a helping and posted up with the bowl balanced on their knees. "Maybe I'll like it better this way." They said, just to be contrary.

The Emperor laughed. I said that, too.

A moment passed in silence while Xa'rok lifted the first spoonful to their lips. They swallowed, and the Emperor's presence seemed to solidify, almost as if it sat beside them in the flesh, instead of trapped within the prism at their side.

What do you think?

"I've definitely had worse," Xa'rok started. They swallowed another spoonful, savoring the flavors as they mixed on their tongue. Despite the char, the fiddleheads were surprisingly tender as they tore beneath their teeth. Earthy and hale, they were strongly reminiscent of the ground they had been plucked from.

"Gale says that it's human custom that a meal is only as good as the company that shares it. In that case," Xa'rok glanced beside them at the artefact, the empty space. "I suppose I haven't had better."

[cupidseok]

things that evoke memories of riize

💒 — SHOTARO AS

the bittersweet tug of homesickness, the aromatic smell of freshly ground coffee beans that first hits you upon stepping into a cafe, unexpectedly meeting a high school friend you really missed on the streets, the solace found in being able to comfort you, the warmth of sunlight kissing your skin, ties with cute little patterns on them, the click of film cameras while taking photos of you, the lingering feeling after a hug, getting bungeoppang in the winter and chatting with the street vendor while waiting for his order, carrot cakes, a large collection of bucket hats, love countdown by nayeon, wonstein

🩰 — EUNSEOK AS

soft ballad music playing in the background, the gentle warmth of intertwined hands, early morning strolls, the adrenaline rush coursing through you while riding roller coasters, holding hands in haunted houses, long facetime calls spent in silence, brushing his lips over your forehead, trembling lips as he lets himself be vulnerable to you for the first time, exploring a place he has never been before, the feeling that you’re going to know each other for a long time, a handsome stranger you saw on an overseas trip once and never again, watching studio ghibli films together, carbonara pasta, breathe by lauv

💭 — SUNGCHAN AS

texts to check if you’ve eaten, greeting dogs that pass by, wandering aimlessly in an art museum, purposely stepping in a puddle of water just to splash someone, playfully fighting you for the tv remote but letting you win in the end, opening jars for you even though you can do it yourself, letting him play with your hair until it’s all tangled, the chime of school bells signalling the day’s end, taking photos with friends on the last day of school, the soft brush of elbows while writing side by side, keeping your hair tie on his wrist, eating vanilla ice cream on sunny days, 爱你 by kimberley chen

✨ — WONBIN AS

late night walks under the moonlit sky, someone’s hand slipping in yours, dark chocolate, dazzle of fireworks illuminating the night, reflecting on his eyes, learning how to play a new instrument, a faceless photo of you and him on his lockscreen, watching a drama together and rooting for different male leads, putting on a facade of toughness to impress you, gently reassuring him that perfection isn’t always necessary, clothes that fit you just right, love at first sight, matching earrings, only letting you touch his guitar, the reluctance to bite into cute chinese piggy steamed buns, wish you were sober by conan gray

💌 — SEUNGHAN AS

sweet goodnight texts, good luck charms handmade with endearing clumsiness, trying new food, finding something you thought you lost, autum leaves rustling in the wind, holding the door open for you, exchanging affectionate words endlessly, winning a soft toy at an amusement park on the first try, patiently teaching you how to play games, looking through his photoalbum when he misses you, doodling shinchan on the corners of your worksheet, taking a bite of your spicy bibimmyeon, then complaining that it was too spicy for him, die for you by the weeknd, ariana grande

👒 — SOHEE AS

shopping for caps together, a tranquil morning greeted by a gentle breeze, buying a new fuzzy blanket, curtains billowing in the wind, waiting for you to come home to him, the comfort of oversized plain white shirts and grey joggers, playing rock paper scissors to divide household chores, needing to pause and go outside for a breather every time he realises how down bad he is for you, trying to order a kids meal at a restaurant and getting embarrassed after the waiter doesn’t allow it, getting tteokbokki together after school, candy by baekhyun

🎧 — ANTON AS

wired earphones connected to an mp3 player, warm beach towels, trying to make an asmr video, eating cake off the floor so you wouldn’t feel bad for dropping it, constantly sending you tiktoks that remind him of you, water parks on hot summer days, classical music, old books with yellowed pages and worn covers, putting on sheet masks together, reading children’s storybooks for you to help you fall asleep, making eye contact across the room, the moment where you realise that he feels the exact same way that you feel at the same moment, snow on the beach by taylor swift, lana del rey

© cupidseok — do not copy / repost / translate my works