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solar-wing · 3 months

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⚣ Love's Punishment 🏛️

Prompts Used: @rednsuch – #39 “Just the smell of you gets me excited, darling.” – #13 “Stop being such a brat.”

⚣🏛️ Summary → One may ask what it's like having a God or Goddess for a parent. Honestly, not fun, and Y/N is a perfect example of that considering how he's being punished by his mother. How do you even bring up this level of mommy issues in therapy?

⚣🏛️ Word Count → 6.2K

REBLOGS and replies are greatly appreciated, please! 💛

⚣ ENJOY 🏛️

Daddy issues this, and Daddy issues that.

What about the people who have mommy issues? Because they exist, and Y/N would be shocked if anyone else’s relationship challenges with their mother were similar to his own.

Truthfully, he would never understand or believe the idea that someone could have sex and procreate with a god or goddess and not have one clue. There was no divine light following behind them? No wisps of magic or sparkles. No flowers and bright auras left in their footpaths?

Nothing, not a single clue?

Bullshit.

You may ask yourself, “Y/N, whatever could be wrong with someone having adult fun and having children with a god or goddess?”

Lots of things, actually. There could be an encyclopedia on why that could be a bad idea with lots of consequences to follow. Too many to get into right at this moment considering he was busy trying to cover his head and face from getting blasted while hanging off a superhero’s shoulders like a sack of potatoes.

Getting punished by a god or goddess was not for the weak.

No kid liked getting in trouble and punished by their parents. It was a very unpleasant and frustrating feeling when you had to answer for something you either 100% did without thinking of the circumstances, or something that happened and you were the victim of said circumstances.

But imagine getting punished by your God or Goddess parent for something that you had no control over. Even more, something said parent was directly responsible for!

The hypocrisy of it all.

Y/N’s father was a handsome man. Their genes were always divinely blessed, the Alpha always liked to joke, and the young Omega didn’t realize the irony of that statement until he got older and started questioning things.

Whenever he thought about changing his appearance or switching something up, it happened immediately without any action or movement from him. At one point during some teenage life crisis, he wanted to go blonde but didn’t even need to purchase dye. One moment he’s looking at his natural hair color and looks down to grab his comb. Next thing he knows, he’s got a full head of blond hair in the exact style he imagined. And it looked goood.

There was another time when he wished in his head that the sweater he was eyeing while shopping was gray instead of red, but according to the store, they never produced that particular color. When he went to go look at other options, imagine his surprise when he turned back two minutes later and it seemed as if the store did indeed have gray. And from a closer look, they only had gray. Starting to see the point?

Y/N could read people like a book, especially pertaining to feelings of affection, desire, and jealousy. Imagine the ability to feel someone’s very adult-like feelings, and you hadn’t even hit puberty yet. His dad had to have the birds and the bees talk with him much earlier than planned.

One of the most concerning things was Y/N's naturally attractive aura and charming voice. Though, he couldn’t tell if it was his voice or just the words he spoke that were attractive. But, people seemed to flock to him like moths to a flame. Even at a young age, many fought for his attention, whether it was classmates, friends, family, or strangers he’d run into when out with his dad.

It was normal for an Omega to be highly desired and sought after by Alphas, but it wasn’t just them fighting for his attention. Y/N had Betas and Omegas alike competing with each other for the chance to get acquainted with him.

By the time he entered high school, on record, he had up to four secret admirers (and two stalkers), and when things only seemed to get more out of control, that’s when his dad finally decided to sit him down and explain the truth to him.

“So, yeah. Probably should have told you this when you were younger, but your mom’s Aphrodite.”

…

Not joking, he 100% said it just like that.

Of course, you can imagine the Omega’s confusion and somewhat anger that this information had been withheld for most of his life. Now, not only did Y/N have to deal with the everyday struggles of life and being an Omega, but he also had to balance being the demigod son to the Goddess of Beauty, Love, and Desire. When you think about it, it made the Omega thing 10x more stressful than it already was.

This was the type of shit people wrote and fantasized about.

Wait a sec…

…

Nah.

Now, back to the beginning, since we have some more context, what was this so-called punishment, and why did it have Y/N grumbling about mommy issues while being whisked around the nation’s capital as some superheroes had it out with each other over who got to claim his body affection?

Oh, nothing serious, really. Just mommy dearest trying to interfere with her son’s love life! Who knew the immortal parents were privy to the same, petty tactics as their mortal counterparts…

Unlike most others who would be excited at the thought of being the child of Aphrodite, Y/N felt he had an unfair advantage when it came to dating and relationships, given his semi-godly abilities and gifts. After his last relationship ended in a horror show with a sequel he promised would never see production, he swore off dating and romance for good.

Well, that didn’t fly too well with Aphrodite. Her children, full-blood and half-blood, were always known for their romantic escapades. One of them was the face of Valentine’s Day! Well, his cousin from Rome was, at least.

So, with the help of her son and Y/N’s half-brother, Eros, God of Love, Lust, and Sex, (the mentioned Greek cousin to Cupid) they set up a little divine punishment for the young Demigod to teach him a lesson for rejecting his goldy heritage. It also paid off as insurance, just in case.

Deities and their children were always known to be stubborn little beings.

Aphrodite sent Eros down to Earth to follow his half-blood sibling around, observing his actions and who he interacted with. And, for any male Alpha that the Omega came in contact with, the God of Lust was to ensure a connection was established between the two if he deemed them worthy enough.

Simply put, he was to shoot male Alpha he figured his mother would approve as a match for her son/his brother in the ass with a love arrow. Now, why she told him to shoot only male Alphas and not female, you’d have to ask her.

Mother knows best.

Unlucky for Y/N, they chose one of the worst days to do that when he happened to be in Washington, D.C. for a work-related trip.

Do you know what else is in Washington, D.C.? The Justice League headquarters.

But, why would that be a problem? Do you really need an explanation?

Imagine how interesting it would be if, at the same time Y/N happened to be in Washington, D.C., one of the famous Justice League heroes like Flash, Green Lantern, or Superman happened to be there as well. Picture how tempting of an opportunity it would be for Eros after he was told to find the best potential matches for his little brother.

Pretty damn tempting if you ask anyone else.

Now, if we’re being truthful, Superman was Eros’ ideal choice for his brother, knowing their mother would definitely approve of the relationship between her son and the Kryptonian. Even if he wasn’t an Alpha due to his alien biology, he still had all the ideal traits of one. Not to mention his strong features and handsome looks.

But, he wasn’t opposed to one of the other heroes like Flash or Green Lantern. And when the latter had been the one to save Y/N during some random battle that broke out between the League and some villains, he figured why not just shoot them all and see who came out on top?

Plus, he was the God of Sex just as much as he was of Love. He wanted to see who out of the three heroes had the sexual prowess to handle someone like his brother. Prude or not, being mated to a child of Aphrodite meant you had to be strong in a lot of ways, especially when it came down to the nitty and gritty.

And who said he couldn’t get a little entertainment out of this?

That entertainment is what led Y/N to his situation of being carried throughout the city like some prize while the world’s defenders fought with each other like kids trying to get the last cookie in the jar.

As said, it started with Green Lantern rescuing him and carrying him away to some random rooftop. Everything seemed normal until Y/N noticed a change in the hero and his sudden lustful gazes that were being directed at him. He'd been on the receiving end of a fair amount of adoration and attention by admiring and persistent Alphas, but this he could tell was something different.

And it was.

Eros had shot Green Lantern with the love arrow while they were still in the sky. Now, instead of thinking about the fight he was leaving his comrades to handle by themselves without his assistance, all his thoughts were centered around the Omega in his arms and how blessed he was to be in the presence of such a radiant being.

And how much he couldn't wait to claim his body all for himself. Besides, no one was more fitting or deserving of an Omega of Y/N's stature than the Green Lantern himself. At least, that's what his love-delusioned, and frankly, naturally egotistical mind believed.

Y/N didn't have time to even question what was going on before the green-clad hero had whisked him away to a rooftop, not too far from where the fight was happening. He figured it was over after that and the Alpha would return to his comrades after setting him down.

Imagine the Omega's shock when he found himself pressed against a wall, the hero kissing and nuzzling his neck while running his hands down his body.

"W-What are you doing?" Y/N stuttered out, trying to push the man away but to no avail.

"What does it look like? I'm saving you," The hero's voice was gruff and desperate, and the Omega was starting to get concerned.

"Okay, but this is less saving and more of molesting," Y/N struggled, having his arms pinned against the wall before feeling a hand running down his body towards his pants.

"I'm saving you from other Alphas trying to claim you. After this, you'll belong to me, and me only," Lantern growled gruffly in his ear, an aggressiveness that was all too familiar to the Omega. He'd seen this behavior before but didn't have much time to think about it as the hero started unbuttoning his pants.

"W-Wait! Stop!"

"No, I can't," Lantern shook his head, his eyes glazed over.

"You're under a spell or something!" Y/N tried again, but his words fell on deaf ears.

"I can't stop myself. I need you now," The hero growled, finally pulling the Omega's pants and underwear down before undoing his own and pulling out his throbbing, hard cock.

"No! Stop! You don't want to do this!"

"Stop being such a brat. I need to do this," Lantern's voice was firm and demanding.

Before the green-clad hero could achieve his objective, he was suddenly yanked off the Omega by a red and yellow blur, electricity crackling off it. The Omega after realizing he was free wasted no time in pulling his underwear and pants back up, watching as the blur, now recognized to be Flash, was currently fighting with Green Lantern near the edge of the rooftop.

"What are you doing, man?!" Flash yelled, trying to restrain the other hero.

"Let go of me, I need to save him!" Lantern growled, fighting the speedster's hold.

"From what?" Flash questioned, looking at the Omega confused.

"He's mine!"

"He's not yours!"

"Yes, he is!"

"GL, you need to get a grip."

"He's my Omega! I need to mark him!"

From his position, Y/N could see Flash was struggling to hold the other Alpha down and figured he should probably make his exit right about now. He made his way over to the fire escape, about to climb over until a figure floated up from below.

Superman, ever in his large and slightly intimidating form with his cape blowing in the wind looked down at the Omega with a smile, offering his hand, "Need some help?"

The Omega smiled with a soft blush, trying to quell his nerves at the Alpha's admittedly very handsome and chiseled face. Again, the Omega was no prude, nor was he oblivious to all the gossip and rumors of the world's protectors and their handsome and muscular figures. The latter was made even more prominent by the tight nature of their uniforms.

Y/N would be lying if he said he wasn't looking at Flash's prominent glutes hidden under the red spandex.

But, before the Omega took the Kryptonian's equally large hand, he noticed something in the background. The fight that initially led to this whole mess was still going on. Yet, three of the main superheroes involved in that fight were over here. Flash, he threw to the back of his mind since the speedster did technically save him. But, why was Superman here?

That's when Y/N noticed something in the Kryptonian hero's eyes. An expression almost identical to the one he just saw in Green Lantern.

Uh oh.

Before the Omega could even react, the Alpha had already scooped him up into his arms and flew off into the sky.

"H-Hey! Put me down!" Y/N stuttered, struggling in the Alpha's hold.

"I can't. I need to save you," Superman's voice was low and deep, and the Omega could feel the vibrations from his chest.

Hmm, where had he heard that before?

"Save me from what?"

"Other Alphas trying to claim you," The Kryptonian explained, and Y/N could have sworn he heard a growl in his voice.

A nervous feeling settled into his stomach, and if he wasn't careful, he'd find himself falling prey and submissive to the very situation he was trying to find a way out of. Being Aphrodite's son as mentioned before, he had an extraordinary gift with the power of emotions and desires. He could project his feelings of desire and love onto others, just as much as he could mirror them.

Another one of those aforementioned consequences of deities breeding with mortals.

The only thing Y/N struggled to figure out though was why all of this was happening. He'd never had a run-in with any of these heroes before, and the only time he'd seen behavior like this was when it was related to his...

...Of course.

His mother.

Now, everything was starting to make sense. This could only be the work of mommy dearest, and if Y/N had to guess, his half-brother Eros as well.

He'd have to deal with that problem later, though. Right now, he needed to focus on the task at hand, and that was escaping the arms of a very powerful, very strong, and very horny superhero.

"You're mine. I'll protect you from the others," Superman continued, and Y/N could feel a slight rumble in the Alpha's chest.

"I'm not yours," The Omega shook his head, continuing to struggle.

"Yes, you are. You're mine," The Kryptonian's grip tightened, and the Omega winced at the pain.

Y/N looked down and quickly rid himself of any thoughts that he could survive a fall from this height. Even if he was Aphrodite's son, he lacked something vitally important that his mother and brother both possessed. Immortality.

Hopefully, he could figure another way out of this.

He knew there was no reasoning with the Alpha. As long as he was under Eros' spell, no amount of logic or reasoning would get through to him. As cliché as it may sound, Y/N needed a divine intervention.

Thankfully, it seemed as if one was on the way.

Trails of green energy suddenly surrounded the pair, forming a giant floating cage. Superman turned to see his comrade, having escaped from Flash's grasp flying toward them.

"Get away from him!" Green Lantern yelled, flying towards the duo.

"No! He belongs to me. You have no right to him Lantern," Superman shouted back, clutching the Omega closer.

"You're not even a real Alpha, Clark! You're not even strong enough to make an Omega like him submit to you."

"What did you just say?!"

"You heard me, you fake-ass Alpha. I'm the only one worthy enough for him. Not some alien trash!"

"Why, you-"

Before the two could continue their argument, a vortex suddenly surrounded the two, causing Lantern to lose his focus. The energy cage surrounding the Kryptonian and Omega dissipated and the force from the vortex sent the two heroes to lose their flying. Superman tried his best to stay in the air, but the sudden force was too much and caused him to crash into a nearby building while Lantern crashed into a dumpster.

The Kryptonian managed to shield the Omega from the damage and brunt of their fall by wrapping him in his body. When Y/N realized they weren't falling anymore and had come to a complete stop, he peeked from the Alpha's hold, just in time to see the return of a certain Speedster who must have run up the side of the building to where they were now.

"Are you guys alright?" Flash asked, his eyes landing on the Omega in Superman's arms.

"I'm fine," Y/N nodded, and Flash sighed in relief.

"A vortex, Flash? Really?" Superman questioned with a raised eyebrow, still holding the Omega to his body.

"It was the quickest way to get you two out of the air without hurting anyone," Flash defended, crossing his arms.

"By throwing us into a building?"

"Better than the ground."

"You could have gotten him killed!"

"You were the one holding him!"

"Guys, I'm fine. I promise," Y/N interrupted, and the two Alphas turned to him.

"See, he's fine. Let's get back to the fight," Flash suggested, turning to leave.

"No, not until he's mine," Superman shook his head, and the Omega groaned. He stood up from the ground, letting the Omega stand on his own feet, but keeping an arm wrapped body to prevent him from running off.

"Not this again," Flash sighed, turning back, "You can't claim him."

"And why not?"

"Because he's mine," Lantern's voice suddenly joined the conversation, and the three turned to see the hero, seemingly recovered from his fall, walking towards them.

"No, he's mine!" Superman shouted, his eyes suddenly glowing red as he pointed them at the green-clad hero.

"Clark, no!" Flash shouted, holding his arms up in an attempt to stop the Kryptonian.

"No, he's mine. He's mine. He's mine!" The Kryptonian yelled, his eyes getting brighter.

"Clark, you're gonna kill him!"

"I don't care, Barry. No one is taking my Omega from me."

"He's not yours to claim," Lantern shouted back.

While this was all happening, everyone was oblivious to the new presence that had joined him. Only, none of the heroes could see him. Only Y/N could, and that was a very big problem.

"Eros..." Y/N muttered under his breath, narrowing his gaze at his half-brother who held a mischievous grin on his face while positioning himself slowly behind the speedster.

When Y/N realized what he was doing, he struggled in the Kryptonian's grip, "Eros, no!"

But, it was too late. The deity had taken his shot at the Flash, hitting him perfectly square in the back. The speedster flinched at the impact, turning to look around but finding nothing there, at least, nothing his sight could see. But, when he turned his gaze back around and they fell on the Omega still trapped in Superman's hands, an identical glaze to match the one in the other heroes fell over his eyes. One the half-blood was all too familiar with.

"Oh fuck..." Y/N muttered under his breath.

"Mine," Flash growled, his eyes trained on the Omega.

Before either of the two other heroes could react, Flash sped forward and landed a bunch of fast punches and blows on the Kryptonian, causing him to lose his grip on the Omega.

"Flash, what are you doing?" Lantern yelled at his comrade.

"Taking what's mine," The speedster responded, a charming but crazed look in his expression.

He grabbed Y/N and threw him over his shoulder, the Omega flailing in his grip while also trying to hold on tight as the speedster sped around the space, avoiding attacks from both Green Lantern and Superman at the same time.

"He's not yours, Barry!" Superman shouted, his heat vision shooting at the speedster who avoided it with ease.

"Yes, he is! He's mine!" The speedster yelled, clutching the Omega tighter.

"No, he's mine," Lantern yelled back, sending a giant fist toward the speedster who avoided it in a blur.

"No, he's mine!" Superman yelled, sending his heat vision at Lantern who in turn blocked it with a shield.

"No, he's mine!" The two shouted together, and the fight resumed.

Y/N, still trapped in the speedster's arms, watched helplessly as the Kryptonian and Lantern focused their attacks on each other, feeling a pat on his ass from the speedster who tightened the grip he had around his legs.

"Don't worry about them, beautiful. They're not worthy enough to have you. I am. You'll be mine, and I'll protect you from the others," Flash's voice was husky, and the Omega could feel his heart pounding against his chest.

"You're under a spell, Flash. You don't want to do this," Y/N tried to reason, but the speedster just laughed.

"Oh, but I do. I didn't know what actual life was until just a few minutes ago when I gazed upon you. and now that I have you, I can finally make you mine," Flash smirked, and the Omega gulped.

Flash sped out of the building with the Omega over his shoulder still, the two other Alphas only noticing their disappearance after they were already a mile down the street.

"Shit, where did he take him?" Lantern asked, looking around.

"I don't know," Superman answered, "But we'll find him. And when we do, you'll be the one who has to step aside."

"Like hell, I will!"

While those two continued to bicker, Flash ran himself and the Omega all the way back to Central City. Y/N was amazed at how he didn't pass out from the speed and movement, but he was grateful he didn't. Also, having superspeed may have made it a bit easier.

Just a guess.

When they finally came to a stop, the Omega was set down on his feet, and he looked around to see they were in some bedroom.

"Where are we?" Y/N asked, trying to keep his composure.

"My bedroom," Flash answered, his eyes still glazed over.

"Oh," Y/N nodded, a nervous feeling in his stomach.

"Don't worry, you're safe here," The speedster walked towards him, and the Omega backed away, "I'm not gonna hurt you."

"You say that, but your eyes say otherwise," Y/N responded, continuing to back away until he hit the wall.

"I know. But, I can't help it. I need to have you," Flash smirked, and the Omega felt his arousal getting excited in his pants.

"I'm not yours to have," Y/N shook his head, his heart pounding.

"Yes, you are," Flash's voice was firm, and the Omega felt his resolve fading.

"I-I'm not," Y/N stuttered, his knees getting weak.

"Yes, you are," The speedster was in front of him, and Y/N could feel his breath on his skin.

"I'm not," Y/N shook his head, but his voice was barely a whisper.

"You are," Flash whispered, his face close to the Omega's.

The very thing Y/N was concerned about happening when he was trapped with Superman earlier began to manifest, much to his fear. His divine abilities were reacting to his body's 'chemistry spikes' and now, he was beginning to mirror the Alpha's current feelings toward him, including the obsessive ones, which were now clouding his judgment.

"I'm not," Y/N shook his head, his breathing getting labored.

"You are," Flash whispered, his lips getting closer to the Omega's.

"I'm not," Y/N stuttered, his body giving in.

"You are," Flash whispered, pressing his lips to the Omega's.

"I'm not," Y/N muttered against his lips.

"You are," Flash said firmly, pulling the Omega's body closer to him.

In a move Y/N thought was him going to push against the Alpha in an attempt to resist his seductions, he actually was running his hands up and down the spandex-covered muscles. His legs were spread open by the speedster as he hoisted him up, wrapping them around his waist while pressing him to the wall, kissing him even harder while undressing his clothes.

"You're mine, Y/N," The speedster whispered, his lips trailing down the Omega's neck, "All mine."

"I'm yours, Barry," Y/N panted, his body flushed. Y/N remembered hearing Superman call the speedster by that, figuring it must have been either his civilian name or a codename they had. Either way, he could see from the delighted expression across the Flash's face and his blue eyes through the slits of his mask that he was very pleased by it.

"Say it again."

"I'm yours, Barry. I'm yours."

"That's right, beautiful. You're mine, and I'm yours. You'll never have to worry about other Alphas again, because I'll protect you from them."

The sun's light cascaded through the open windows in the bedroom as the two continued frotting against each other against the wall. Barry trailed his kisses from Y/N's lips down to his neck and eventually to his naked chest, before sucking on his wet nipples while the Omega through his head back in pleasure, the Alpha looking up at him with his blue eyes before taking his lips away from the leaking nubs.

"Do you like that, darling?" Barry asked, and the Omega nodded, his eyes glazed over, "Are you ready for more?"

"Y-Yes, Alpha," Y/N nodded, his breath labored.

"Good boy," Barry whispered, his voice husky and deep. He kissed the Omega one last time on the lips before pulling him away from the wall, carrying him bridal style to the bed.

Barry laid the Omega down, the latter spreading his legs open in submission and invitation, and the former smirked, climbing on top of the bed. Barry pressed kisses to the side of the Omega's neck again, right over his scent gland before taking a big sniff.

"Just the smell of you gets me excited, darling."

Barry's hands roamed the Omega's upper naked body, feeling the smooth and soft skin while trailing his fingers down his sides and to his hips. Y/N gasped, his hands gripping the sheets as the speedster's fingers teased the inside of his thighs.

"I love the way your skin feels, and the way your body reacts to me," Barry whispered, his nose pressing into the Omega's scent gland.

"Barry," Y/N moaned, his body arching off the bed.

"Say it again," Barry growled, his hands squeezing the Omega's hips.

"Barry," Y/N moaned, his eyes closed.

"That's right, baby. I'm Barry, and you're mine," Barry whispered, his fingers moving up the Omega's inner thighs.

"I'm yours," Y/N nodded, his legs spreading open even wider.

However, before Barry could move to remove the Y/N’s pants, the Omega whined at him, tugging on the spandex of his suit and mask with his hands causing a cheesing smile to appear across the Alpha's face.

"Aw, you want to see me out of my suit, don't you, darling?" Barry asked, and the Omega nodded frantically.

"Yes, Alpha. Please."

"Good boy," Barry praised, and the Omega whimpered.

He quickly removed his gloves and masks, tossing them aside before unzipping the top of his suit and pulling it off, revealing his sculpted and muscled chest. Y/N's eyes widened in delight and appreciation at the sight, reaching his hands out to touch the smooth and pale skin.

The Omega moaned happily at the sight, running his hands down the hard pecs and abs while leaning up to press his own kisses against the skin. Barry shuddered above him from the move while resuming his earlier actions of removing the offending pants and underwear that were hiding his prize from his sight.

Tossing the pants aside, he leaned up and took in the sight of the fully naked Omega, writhing on his sheets and whining for him, feeling his own throbbing hard erection under his suit pants.

"Look at you, darling. So beautiful, and all mine," Barry ran his hands down the Omega's sides, creating a tickling feeling that had the smaller male giggling, "I can't wait to claim your body, all for me," he growled, voice husky with want.

Barry kissed his way down the Omega's chest, taking a moment to bite and lick at the leaking nubs again before gripping his thighs and spreading them open. He positioned his head between the open legs while staring at the tight, slick-producing hole in front of him. He lapped his tongue to gather of taste of it on his tongue, Y/N flinching violently at the sensation while calling out the Alpha's name.

"Delicious," Barry muttered, before diving in on the wet treat in front of him.

"Oh fuck," Y/N moaned, his hands gripping the bed sheets tightly.

Barry's tongue lapped at the dripping slick, his hands gripping the Omega's thighs tight and pushing them open even further to gain better access. Y/N moaned, his back arching off the bed while the Alpha's tongue entered his hole, tasting him from the inside.

"Barry, please. Please, I need it. Please," Y/N begged, his body shaking with arousal and want.

Barry didn't listen to him though, he kept feasting on the Omega's arousal while using his speed to vibrate his tongue inside him, causing the Omega to moan even louder, his body shaking with pleasure.

"Barry, please! a-ah, fuck ... !" Y/N cried, his body shaking even more.

"What do you need, baby? Tell me," Barry asked, pulling his tongue out and looking at the Omega with a smirk.

"I-I need you... Please, please," Y/N begged, and the Alpha smiled.

"You want me, baby?"

"Yes, Alpha. Please, I need you. Please."

"Well, since you asked so nicely."

The Alpha discarded the rest of his suit and underwear, his throbbing erection springing free, causing the Omega to lick his lips at the sight. Barry chuckled at his reaction while pulling him down the bed and picking him up in his arms, wrapping the smaller male's legs around him and pressing him against the wall.

Barry played with his cock against the Y/N's wet heat, enjoying the pleasurable reactions that ran across the Omega's face. "Who's your Alpha?" He asked with another playful smack of his mushroom head against the hot and throbbing entrance.

"Y-You, Alpha," Y/N panted, his face red and eyes glazed over.

"That's right, baby. I'm your Alpha," Barry whispered before he slowly slid inside the Omega.

"Fuck!" Y/N yelled, his head leaning back against the wall.

"So tight and warm. It's like you were made just for me, baby," Barry moaned, his cock pushing all the way in until his balls were pressed against the Omega's ass.

Y/N dug his nails into the skin of Barry's shoulders while the Alpha pressed him harder against the wall, his hips rapidly moving back and forth as he fucked him hard. The speedster's hips and legs were already dripping with more and more of the Omega's arousal as it dripped into his carpet, creating more of a mess the harder he thrust in and out of the hole.

"h-harder ... p-please, harder ..." Y/N moaned, his eyes closed while Barry sucked on his neck.

"So beautiful," Barry growled, his hands gripping the Omega's ass cheeks while thrusting harder, "Such a good little Omega, taking my cock so well."

"Barry! Barry!" Y/N moaned, his legs wrapped tighter around the Alpha's waist.

"Say it again," Barry growled, his hips moving faster.

"Barry!" Y/N moaned, his back arching.

Suddenly, Barry got the bright idea to add his speed to it, making his hips move at a pace that would be deemed impossible for any regular human. Good thing he wasn't a regular human. However, the increase in speed had Y/N shouting at the top of his lungs, tears springing to his eyes as he pounded his fists against the Alpha's hard, mildly sweaty chest.

Meanwhile, Y/N was a soaking mess. The shine from the sweat all around his body was highlighted by the sun's fading rays and the increasingly bright glow from the streetlights outside the window. Combined with the sticky fluid still leaking from his chest and the slick that was all but splashing between the Alpha and Omega.

"That's it, baby. Take my cock. Take it all," Barry growled, his hips moving faster.

"Barry, I-I'm gonna... I'm gonna cum," Y/N cried, his legs shaking.

"Do it. Cum for me, baby," Barry commanded, and the Omega followed.

"Fuck!" Y/N screamed, his back arching and his eyes rolling back into his head as he came between the two, digging nails into Barry's sweaty back as his release overwhelmed him.

"That's a good Omega," Barry said, before slipping out of the smaller male, carrying him over to the bed and propping him up on all fours.

He gripped the Omega's hips, sliding back inside him and fucking him at a rapid pace, his hips slapping against the plump ass cheeks. Y/N's eyes rolled back into his head as he cried out, his body shaking with pleasure while the Alpha fucked him.

"That's it, baby. Take it," Barry growled, his grip tightening on the Omega's hips.

"p-please, I can't... FUCK! I can't take anymore... !" Y/N cried, his body shaking as the Alpha started using his powers again to increase his speed.

"You can, and you will," Barry growled, his hips moving even faster.

"Barry, please! Fuck, I'm gonna... !"

"Do it. Cum for me, baby. Cum for your Alpha," Barry growled.

"mm ... mmh ... ! O-OHH, FUCK ... !" Y/N shouted, his back arching and his eyes rolling back into his head as he came, his legs and body shaking from the overstimulation as the Alpha started to chase his own finish.

Barry's knot started to form at the base and slowly was inching closer and closer as the Alpha fucked the Omega who was beginning to softly cry from the amount of pleasure and pain he was experiencing. His hands weakly tried to push against the speedster's hips in an attempt to slow him down but were snatched together in a grip while feeling a painful smack against his ass.

"Don't try and fight it, baby. Just let me claim you. Just let me have you," Barry growled, throwing his head back in pleasure.

"Barry, I-I can't ... !" Y/N cried, his body shaking.

"Yes, you can. Just a little longer," Barry's hips started to stutter, and the Omega cried out, his legs shaking as he felt the Alpha's knot starting to press against his hole.

"Barry, please! PLEASE ... !" Y/N sobbed, his body convulsing on the inside from the overwhelming sensation.

"Just a little longer, baby. Just a little longer."

"I-I can't... Please, I can't ... !"

"Almost there, baby. Who's your Alpha?"

"Y-You... You are ... !"

"That's right, baby. I'm your Alpha. And, now I'm gonna make you mine. Forever."

With that, Barry pressed all the way inside, releasing his knot into the Omega with a loud groan as he leaned forward, catching himself on the bed as Y/N had his third orgasm against the sheets, suddenly feeling heavy and drained from the strenuous workout he just went through.

While the pair were both recovering, neither of them realized the small, matching marks that slowly appeared over their scent glands. They were now a fully mated pair, and the God of Love and Sex knew this as he peered in through the window, watching the sweaty individuals with satisfaction.

"Welp, my job's done. I'm sure Mother will be pleased with this outcome. Serves you right, brother. You should know better than to try and deny your heritage. Hope you learn well from this punishment."

With that, the deity disappeared, making his way home.

Meanwhile...

"That should be the last of them," Lantern said, flying through the air after he captured the last of the attacking minions.

"Good," Superman nodded, his eyes still glowing white as he scanned the area.

"What are you doing?" Lantern asked, looking at the Kryptonian confused.

"Looking for him."

"Who?"

"The Omega."

"Oh yeah, do you think Barry already claimed him?"

"Probably, but it doesn't matter. Cause he belongs to me, and I'm going to take him back, by whatever means necessary."

☀️ | Barry Allen/Flash | ☀️

☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️

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littledead-ridinghood · 1 year

Note

sorry if this is a weird question to drop on you you were just the first person I thought of who might know but do you know if it's canon/canonically-based evidence that jason is physically stronger than other bats because I always see people say jason is the one with "brute strength" and I can't remember if that's based on anything besides people saying that as a nicer way to call him a brute(maybe it was on lobdells stuff? but I wiped most of those out of my memory)

You thought of me first? <333333 I'm blushing. And it's not weird at all! Even if it was, I love answering weird shit.

Anyway:

So part of Jason being considered "the muscle" of the bats comes from the fact that Jason's currently the biggest of the robins. (Adult!Damian is usually drawn as the tallest of the kids when all is said n' done (that's vague for "age")).

Well, how big then?

I always go with this chart which was released while UtRH was being released:

(I Love this! I wish DC still did little info things like this within their comics. Or maybe they do and I'm just blind. But Look! Canonical Information!)

So canonically speaking, at least when running around pre-crisis, Jason is 6 feet tall and 180 pounds. (Also note criminal mastermind and put a pin in it)

But you've probably heard 200 & 220 thrown around a lot. Those numbers are specifically pulled from two different DC character encyclopedia books which I don't trust at all because there notoriously filled with false information and are dubbed as not canon all the time.

Personally, I use the 6', 180-195 pound range which estimates for fluctuating weight, the passage of time, muscle mass, and minimum bulk & cutting (which I assume is part of most superheroes' training to stay in fighting form, but please recognize that vigilantes are more athlete than bodybuilder) because it's from a canon source (Canon is "king" and all that). No shame to people who use the other numbers or even headcanon something completely different, but again, vigilantes are predominantly running all over cities day after day, not stagnant weight lifters. Cardio vs weights body compositions are quite different even if both are healthy. (And it's not all "swimmer's body illusion" either (they have that body because they swim? No, they swim because they have that body.)

How much muscle mass a person can maximally obtain is up to your genetics. But that max only comes with constant maintainment. It's not feasible for Jason to be doing all that cardio and also have that much muscle mass and fat. Cardio burns "fat" (calories), weights build muscle. We constantly see the former and former-adjacent workouts more than the latter with him. Jason is running across rooftops, flipping off them before falling into a shoulder roll onto the next roof over chasing after bad guys every night. The number of calories he'd have to eat and time put into lifting weights (too many reps a week lead to damage, not growth) to maintain his max (max being what a lot of weights category athletes try to achieve which Jason just hasn't been shown to be (except in his jailbird phase where he could literally only lift weights, read, and avoid being killed to pass the time)) isn't possible.

Using comic art to "prove" how much he weighs doesn't work either. Firstly, because everyone wears weight differently. Two people can be the same height, weight, and sex and look completely different. This is due to different body types, composition, genetics, diet, (what kind of) exercise, and many other factors. Assuming someone thinner is automatically "super light" doesn't factor in different body compositions (fat, muscle, bone percentages). (yes, I know it's stupid to apply science to comics. There's my digression. let me live). Secondly, Jason (just like everything else about him) isn't drawn consistently at all. Sometimes he's pretty damn massive, but we also have Twink and Twunk Jason (DC can't even decide on hair color? Do you think they're gonna decide on his body?).

So, comic book art isn't super reliable as evidence unless we want to theorize if, how, and why he seems to fluctuate between weights all the time (<- Which I have a whole headcanon about if anyone's curious), especially in comparison to the others because, seriously, it's totally a Jason thing. Most characters are pretty consistent in body type. Anyway, someone could argue "See! he is 210!" but it's also not for a long enough period to stick around :/ Again, hard to consistently maintain that much weight as a 6-foot-tall, cardio-based athlete.

Also note: DC is horrible when it comes to weight-to-height lineups. A woman hero can be ~5'7'' and then we're told she's 110 lbs which Fact 1. is considered underweight for this kind of height-to-sex ratio, Fact 2. probably isn't factoring in the fact that muscle is heavier than fat, she just "looks thin", and 3. Usually, totally, absolutely is just blatant sexism.

Really, the numbers don't seriously mean anything of actual substance because their comics, are unreliable, and also usually just...scientifically wrong. But Jason's perception on page, as well as the information we've been told, is one reason he's considered "brute strength first and foremost."

Furthermore, Jason has been shown repeatedly to be on par with Bruce (even when Jason, most of the time, plays defense in their physical fights) but many people chalk this up to him and Bruce having similar physiques making it "easier". Again, counter-productive argument because Bruce and Jason have been drawn very similarly before in stories as well as completely different from each other in others. Also, this purposefully, blatantly ignores Jason's actual skills. No one chalks Dick Grayson or Cassandra Cain beating Bruce up to their body types. Moreover, when Bruce and Jason are drawn similarly in body, no one refers to Bruce as "Brute Strength" either. Bruce gets to be tactical, strategic, clever. (Also Also: In Pre-Crisis, Bruce, Dick, and Jason are deliberately drawn to look similar (height, mass, looks, etc.) to get that Brothers in Blood effect. Still, No one chalks the formers up to all strength. Just Jason)

And that brings us to your question, Anon: Is there canonical evidence for Jason being stronger than the other Bats?

Remember how I told you to put a pin in that "Occupation: Criminal Mastermind" note? Well, first off, Jason creating jobs for his community. Go off, king. Second off, and more importantly so, "Mastermind": a person who supplies the directing or creative intelligence for a project (Merriam-Webster).

When Jason was first re-introduced, what made Jason dangerous was that he was highly skilled and smart. He was playing with both Black Mask and Batman like a cat batting a toy mouse. He orchestrated an entire "slow-growing" takeover of Gotham's underworld (he was actually very quick about it). Jason controlled the situation and planned so well that he had the villains and heroes who were both after him fighting each other so he could slip away and do what he actually needed to do.

Throughout Jason's history, he's always had tools with him when he fights. To the point that Bruce says to Jaybin "You won't always have this" cutting his utility belt, insinuating he relies too much on it, which Jason returns the favor to on his return and fights B hand to hand <3 Love a cocky callback. Furthering this, he knows many, many different fighting styles and techniques both from life experience and from extensive training. Jason's a quick learner by nature and is incredibly adaptive. Guns; knives; swords; pens; sets bombs to specifically implode, not explode; makeshift gadgets; a baseball bat just laying around; a tire jack that one time; brains. I could go on. Jason doesn't just hit things. He uses what he has as a means to an end. He's canonically known as one of the best strategists in-universe and is incredibly creative with his surroundings. Jason isn't just great at extensive, long-term planning either. Bruce himself has remarked on the fact that Jason thinks incredibly quickly on his feet, he's really good at improvisation. Concisely, he has plans A-G and if all those fail, he can pull something out of nothing. Contrast this with Bruce who needs to have a plan for everything. Even if it doesn't look like he's following a plan, Bruce is. Opposed to Jason who can go with the flow and figure it out along the way.

Jason even said this in present-era in TFZ:

And that's the whole point, isn't it? Jason is strong. Incredibly so. He's big and tall and has gorgeous thighs. Not to mention, has a mean right hook. But just because Jason's strong doesn't mean he isn't a bat first and foremost who relies on his brain before anything else. He died 4'6 (on his death certificate, his height varies depending on what source you pull) and famously had to defend himself his entire life ever before being Robin. Being young and small and forced to survive shaped Jason into a quick thinker who could either get away or take enemies 10x his size down. Nowadays, he just has a longer reach.

In Event Levithan when Damian says: "Jason Todd is one of the Great Master fighters of all time" He doesn't say strongest because Damian doesn't mean strongest. Damian means adaptable, smart, capable, and well-rounded in skill.

While I don't doubt that Jason is most definitely one of the strongest Bats due to his size, what makes Jason dangerous is not his body, but the fact that he knows how to use it. It's not "Brute Strength" as many people like to say, it's Strategic Strength. He knows just because he's stronger than someone doesn't mean he'll always win. A la see panels above. Jason knows throwing his body around won't do anything of real, long-term substance. That it's just blindsided and stupid.

I'm sure if I looked I could pull panels where other bats and/or vigilantes refer to Jason as the muscle, brute (strength), all brawn (no brain), other such implications, etc, but whenever people do, it's always to undermine Jason's skill. Because it's not actually about his strength. Jason, with his taller, more built form, makes walking quiet seem easy. And it looks easy because he's good. Jason himself knows his skill set, it's everyone else that undermines him time and time and time again. (Again, Event Levithan, Bruce doesn't agree with Damian's statement even though Jason just outsmarted the six or so people who all just tried to take him down (for something Jason didn't even do, mind you))

But, again from Damian, Jason's not known as "the muscle," he's "the emotional one" also usually used to...degrade Ja--We can't have anything nice apparently is what I'm saying. But yes, when people refer to Jason as "Brute Strength" it's usually them trying to find a nicer way of saying Brute or "thinks with his fists" or "Jason hits first, asks questions later." It's in the same vein as when people say "Jason likes books" as short-hand for "see, he's smart at something" rather than acknowledging that Jason achieved a degree's worth of knowledge in comp-sci by age 13.

Anyway Smart and Strong Jason, my beloved. I wish DC & others loved you as much as Rosenburg and the teams of artists he's been working with do.

#jason todd #jason todd meta #every thought I have has a 2nd secret thought behind it and I've been trying to be better about not rittling my metas w 2nd thought->(...)

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promise-you-doie · 3 months

Text

Second Time | P. Jisung

warnings: none

not proofread, a few grammatical errors

the first time Jisung met you, you had left an imprint on his brain. You weren’t really too different from everyone else he’d met, at least that’s what he kept telling himself.

But really, it wasn’t making sense.

He just couldn’t understand why he kept thinking about you so much, the sweet vanilla perfume you were wearing, and the cherry red lipgloss that stained your pretty puffy lips. Your soft voice and gentle doe eyes.

“Do you need help?” He asks when he sees you reaching for the butterfly encyclopedia on the top shelf. It was then that he noticed the variety of butterflies that you have stamped on you. The silver butterfly claw clip tying half your hair up, the blue butterfly print decorating the front of your shirt, the butterfly necklace hanging around your neck, and the butterfly ring wrapped around your right ring finger.

“No, I got it.” You reply, continuing to reach for the book over the top of your head. yet jisung doesn’t take your “no” for an answer and easily lifts his arm above you to slide the book back out and lower it down to where you can reach it.

You were thankful but shy, so you murmured a “thanks, but I could’ve gotten it myself.”

and Jisung responds with “You’re welcome.” Smiling at your awkward pout. Usually, he was nervous around strangers but something about you compelled him, he wanted to know more. He needed to know more.

Unfortunately, you ran away before he could say anything else or introduce himself.

It took two months for him to see you again.

for the entire two months you occupied his thoughts, every time he saw a butterfly or moth your face came to his mind. Anytime he smelled a vanilla scent he thought of you, when he saw the color red he was reminded of the red lipgloss that covered your lips.

He found himself mindlessly doodling butterflies in his notes and even sitting by the encyclopedias in the student library hoping to see you again. But it’d end up the same every day. He’ll be left slightly kicking his feet against the library carpet and moping about the time he wasted waiting for you when he could’ve been working on his list of overdue assignments.

However it didn’t stop him from doing it again the next day, the day after that, and the day after that.

After so much time had gone past he figured he’d just give up. So he told himself this was the last time, after this he’d continue his life and pass you off as a mere dream.

an hour had passed and then two hours had passed and then three. Jisung looked around in his seat, scanning the entire library from his view. And when he didn’t see you he let out a deep sigh and stood up the chair. Collecting his bag and laptop, he headed towards the exit.

Maybe you were just a dream, a really good dream.

Maybe he’ll be lucky enough to meet you again in a dream, maybe he’ll get your name next time, maybe he’ll get to know more about you.

As he opens the door to the library someone comes rushing in, accidentally running face first into Jisung’s chest and dropping their book on the floor right below his feet.

“I’m sorry.” The soft and familiar voice is the first thing Jisung notices, the butterfly encyclopedia laying on the floor is the second. And the warm sweet vanilla scent was the third. He reaches for the book before you do, securing it tightly in his hands so that you can’t just grab it and run like you did once before.

“thank you” you mutter, hoping that would make him loosen his grip on the book.

It doesn’t.

He refuses to let go until he sees your face. Until he’s sure that it’s you and that you’re real. not some enchanted being that he’d made up in a dream.

When you raise your chin, and lock eyes with his. He knows more than ever that you’re real.

The first time he met you he couldn’t get you off his mind, the second time he met you he knew he was already in love.

“My name is Jisung.” He speaks without any hesitation.

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nohiketoosmall · 3 months

Text

You

Love

The

Color

The

Snake?

Photos Source: Snakes by Badger, D & Netherton, J.; Snakes by Gilpin, D.; Firefly Encyclopedia of Reptiles and Amphibians, 3rd Edition, by Mattison, C.; Encyclopedia of Reptiles and Amphibians 2nd edition by Cogger, H., & Zweifel, R.

#reptiblr #snakes #long post #do you love the color of the sky #meme #maybe someones already done this but i decided to do it with my reptile books because it was funny

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transqueer4singlemoms · 4 months

Text

Kim Kitsuragi: "You know detective, you look really good in those shoes." He takes a drag from his cigarette and looks down, quickly looking back up

[Composure-Legendary: Failure] He said you looked...really good?

You: Sweat starts to form at the peak of your forehead and you don't know why. Your heart beats faster. Blood rushes your face making you red as a beatroot. He just complimented you. Why is that compliment different from the thousand others you've gotten? Maybe...

[Inland Empire-Medium: Success] Maybe because you like him

[Logic-Challenging: Failure] Wait...but I like women? How can I like men too?

[Encyclopedia-Easy: Success] You could be bisexual. Bisexuality is a sexual orientation that means you like both men AND women. Many people are bisexual, maybe not here exactly, but possibly across different areas of Revachol and the world.

[Shivers-Challenging: Success] Down an alleyway in the farthest reaches of Boogie Street, there is an underground bar. A man in tight colorful clothes is inside, approaches a woman sitting at the bar drunkenly flirting. In an apartment in the east side of Jamrock an old woman sits quietly in her living room listening to classical music over the radio. Below the ground, a hefty Semenine man clears out garbage in the sewers. He wipes his rugged forehead to clear the sweat on it. For some reason, you connect with all these people on a deep spiritual level.

Inland Empire: Because you're probably this *bisexual* thing.

You: How could I like Kim? He's just a friend.

You: What do you mean just a friend? Think about everything you've done together, how impressed you made him with your detective skills. After just one week you've gone from connected strangers to close friends. For fucks sake, he saved your life and you saved his.

[Empathy-Challenging: Success] All the times you were there for him. All the times you made him laugh, made him smile, bonded over solving puzzles in the case. He had a look in his eye, something only a man who loves can have.

[Psychical Instruments-Easy: Success] How his face gets red when you look at him too long. How your heart beat gets high when he brushes his hand against yours. How you think about him at night while you stare at the ceiling.

You: He did mention he was gay. Maybe this could be the best time to tell him how you feel?

[Volition-Medium: Success] Do not do that. It would 100% ruin what you have. Just sit and enjoy the view. Not every thought in your head is something you have to say.

Horrific Neck Tie: Yes! You should tell him you love him! You can say it now because Im not your head! Very clever, aye "bratan"?

1. [Composure-Heroic] "Hey thanks." Play it off (cool style)

2. "Kim I think I'm bisexual"

3. "I've gotta say, I have a feeling that compliment totally made me reconsider who I am"

3. "So Kim, how do you feel about dating alcoholic cops with no future?"

4. Stare at him for a bit and awkwardly look away towards the city

5. [Savoir Faire-Legendary] Try to escape the topic by telling a joke

#queer #disco elysium #harry du bois #kim kitsuragi #harrykim #kimharry #thus is after the mercenary tribunal btw

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zafirosreverie · 6 months

Text

Their favorite thing about you (DLH)

Ares:

Your eyes.

He loves your eyes, because that's how he met you. You were just one more small human of the thousands who came to ask for his intervention, one more and that's it. At first glance you didn't have anything special and a god shouldn't be attracted to you the way Ares was.

But no other god had seen what he saw in your eyes (or else a war would have been fought on Olympus for you by now). It wasn't just the beautiful color of your orbs, but the way they glowed with intense passion, deep rage, and endless bravery, that finally made the god of war fall for you. Even today, so many years later, Ares loves looking into your eyes, where there is still an intense fire that he knows will never fade.

Athena:

Your curiosity.

The goddess was used to receiving thousands of questions and pleas for help from mortals, who in these more modern days used to come to her only as a kind of living encyclopedia.

But you didn't. In fact, she had never even seen you set foot in her temple before. You were a completely different creature, full of curiosity about all the creation of the world, everything was fascinating to you, and she loved your questions, especially the simple ones, because they didn't come from a need beyond the simple fact of wanting to learn. It was something the world needed, and she was willing to protect you for it.

Arce:

Your patience.

She knew, she was more than aware, that she was not the best partner, especially for a mortal like you. She carried too many wounds, from a time when humanity didn't even exist, wounds that even other immortal beings didn't want to deal with.

But you do. You had opened for her not only the doors of your house, but of your life, you had welcomed her and accompanied her, you had taken care of her and, for the first time in centuries, she thought that perhaps healing was coming her way. Arce didn't want to exhaust you, after all, the wounds of a being like her were too big and heavy for a mortal, but your infinite patience gave her hope that you would at least stay with her for as long as your finite lifetime allowed you.

Demeter:

Your laughter.

She is the goddess of the harvest, she creates life wherever she goes. Strong and imposing trees, flowers more beautiful than the stars, unique and precious plants. But all that, paled and remained small before the perfection that was your laugh.

Demeter loved that sound, he loved the way your eyes and nose crinkled, how you showed your perfect teeth, how your stomach bounced slightly with the force of your joy. It was the sound of life, and she swore to protect it until time took it to infinity and the silence of death replaced it.

Hestia:

Your nose.

Listen, she's a simple goddess, okay? Does she like something? It's hers, period. And that goes for your beautiful and perfect nose too. Don't ask why of all your beautiful face that's her favorite part, just accept that you're going to have a very amused goddess pressing it like a little round button at all hours.

Hestia also loves your brilliance and sense of humor, which usually helps enhance her blackmailing pranks on the other gods, but that's another story.

Hades:

Your hands.

Hades loved your hands, not just because of how beautiful they were or how soft your skin was, but because of everything they represented to him. He was the god of death, he was used to ending things, destroying them, reducing them to nothing. But you? you created, you used your hands to bring new objects and ideas to life, you were the opposite of him and that never ceased to amaze him.

He loved your touches too, of course. He was used to the tedious humid heat of the underworld, the kind that is terribly unbearable, that makes you sweat and your clothes stick to your body. But you had shown him another kind of warmth, a soft and gentle one, that ran through his body like a calm light every time you caressed his cheek or took his hand.

Despena:

Your kindness.

It is not a secret to anyone that the goddess tended to be reserved and quiet, like a shadow that no one spoke to if it was not necessary. That is why she appreciated your warm and compassionate heart. She loved to see you interact with other beings, because your words, your gestures and movements were always charged with a deep love and respect for life.

After centuries of living in her sister's shadow, of being ignored by her mother no matter how hard she tried to be the best supporting goddess for her, Despena appreciated your kindness knocking on her door, showing her that she didn't need to be better than anyone, just be the best version of herself.

Hermes:

Your calmness.

As the herald of the gods and the fastest god on Olympus, Hermes was used to a hectic, fast-paced life with chaos always following him wherever he went. That's why it was a huge surprise to everyone when he introduced you as his partner, because you were the complete opposite of him.

However, it took Apollo and Athena only a couple of minutes to realize why Hermes loved you so much. You were perfect for him, precisely because you balanced him, because in the midst of all his chaos, you were always standing there, ready to be the immovable pillar, the security and stability that he needed so much. It didn't matter if you treated him like a little boy from time to time, he loved it.

Hecate:

Your hair.

It might sound simple and almost comical right? That the goddess of magic, someone who could create absolutely anything with the snap of her fingers, would be so fascinated by something as simple and vain as mortal hair.

But it was precisely that simplicity that drew her. Hecate was aware of the wonders she could do and why mortals came to her daily, but that you let her play with your hair allowed her to anchor herself to the world, to the fact that she could be more than magic, that's why she loved so much spending hours brushing it while you worked your own magic on her, the simple one that only required a smile and a cup of tea.

Hela:

Your vitality.

She was used to the cold of Helheim, to the thousands of lamentations of the souls in pain and to the feeling of loneliness that always nestled in her chest. That's why she loved so much when you went to visit her.

You were always smiling, you were always happy, your voice traveled to the last corner of the gloomy place and your presence seemed to radiate a warm and comforting light, the souls seemed serene and almost happy while they played with you. You were life itself arriving at the place of death, and Hela loved you for it, enough to push the fear of the day that light went out to the back of her mind.

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goddessmelon · 10 months

Text

Lawrence Oleander x (gender neutral) Reader- Tease

CW: Teasing, sexual content, touching, restraining, oral sex

You went too far.

It’s a Saturday night… though probably late enough to be more like a Sunday morning. You know because it’s one of his nights off. Rain falls lightly against the building, and you kneel to peer out the window to watch droplets slide down the window, heaving a soft sigh of boredom to yourself. A few feet from you, your captor, provider, twisted-love interest (but oh, what are labels?) sits on the floor, his lower back propped up against the metal and mattress of his shoddy futon, and hunched over a thick book. It’s an encyclopedia of some sort that you’ve seen him read from before, the pages lightly water damaged but the bleeding colors not bothering him at all. You watch him as his eyes trail across the page slowly, fixing on an image here and there, his fingers idly tracing the shapes on the paper including the areas that bled. You think you can even catch a hint of a smile here and there.

You can’t help but love moments like these; Lawrence wasn’t exactly a relaxed individual. Ever since he decided to keep you, even after breaking one of your legs and the other foot in a fit of what he considered love and protection, he still seemed constantly on edge by one thing or another: you, work, the outside world, or whatever else went on in his constantly brewing headspace. Seeing him relaxed was nice in a way, but deep down, a slightly meaner part of you wanted to take that mild tranquility away from him yourself, just as he took it away from you all too often. It wasn’t a good idea but… where did all your good ideas get you anyway? He was totally unpredictable. And sitting around with nothing to do, you felt like testing the waters.

So, you sit against the wall to face him fully, holding your head up in your hands and holding a smile. For a while he’s too entranced in his literature to notice, but before he turns a page he looks at you. His lazy eyes meet yours and widen instantly, darting to the floor at your feet as if the eye contact alone equated to touching a burning stove momentarily. His face instantly looks a little flushed and he presses his lips in a fine line. “Stop that,” he says in a voice that must have meant to sound decisive but in reality came out a tad shaky.

“What?” you ask innocently, still looking at his eyes through his downturned lashes. He looks up at you again to check if you had listened to him but upon seeing that you did not, turns to instead look back at his book, his face burning even brighter than before.

“Y-You… you know what!” he sounds frustrated, flustered, voice rising just a bit before falling into silence again.

“I just think you look pretty,” you say honestly, smiling again though sweating a bit internally. You never know what makes him flip.

“Don’t.” He presses his forehead into the palm of his hand, sounding genuinely upset, yet still red in the face. He sounds serious enough for you to drop it though… for now.

But you have some ideas of ways to make him tick. Frankly, it didn’t seem to even matter what you did and what you believed to be something “good” or “bad” for him. Obedience, silence, and acceptance were generally what he needed from you but even then, too much of a good thing drew him to scary extremes. Where would this bring him?

So you let him read, but after a few minutes, he exhales sharply and closes the book, standing up swiftly. He must not be able to focus anymore. It wasn’t uncommon for the scatterbrained lunatic to drop something the second it no longer “felt right.” He goes into the kitchen abruptly and starts to brew something- you hear the water running as you watch his back while he works quietly. In the meantime you end up looking at his plant book yourself, flipping through the photos and diagrams idly. This page on poppies is pretty well loved… you notice a dogear and pull it open to a section on ferns. Some stuff about true leaves… reproduce through spores… a set of diagrams…whatever.

Soon enough, he’s walking back over to you, two cups of steaming liquid in his hands. He sits on the bed this time, his legs a few feet from your head, and holds out one of the cups. “I… want to go to sleep soon,” he says, offering the drink to you. You recognize the familiar scent of lavender radiating from the liquid as you gingerly take the cup from him, alongside something else you couldn’t put your finger on. He’s been making both of you simple herbal teas rather than whatever it was before now that you were somewhat settled in, for lack of a better term. Probably still not completely legal in terms of ingredients, but it wasn’t something that would knock you out on the spot.

You nod in response as you start drinking the tea, enjoying the lightly sweetened mix with what was probably a little bit of honey. Still kind of bitter, but it was a flavor that was growing on you. In between sips you peer over at him, watching as he stares forward with dull eyes as he downs the hot liquid, as if the temperature hardly bothers him. With another mischievous thought, you scoot slightly over and lean onto his legs. He jumps at first, gulping down what he had in his mouth, but after a quick look at you doesn’t make an effort to move. He seems stiff, though. Even though you’ve been physically intimate before, he can never seem to calm down, unless he is the one initiating. It’s cute, in a way… and it’s why you feel this sudden urge to tease him. When he’s looking away again, you reach an arm up and begin to trail it down his thigh lightly, only to yelp when he grabs your wrist, hard, holding up your arm with little effort as he stares at you. You can feel his glare even as you look away with a whimper. Realizing your pain, he drops your wrist and you let your arm fall weakly to the floor. For a moment you both just sit there quietly, until you break the silence. “It’s okay, you didn’t hurt me.”

You look at each other shortly, before he replies quietly. “I… don’t know what you’re… nnn…” Your gaze trails down his body to the obvious tent forming in his sweatpants. When he notices where your eyes are, he clears his throat and puts his hands in his lap to hide it, eyebrows furrowed and face flushed again.

Before giving him the chance to do anything else, you start to limp-crawl away toward the bathroom. “Well! I’ll be getting ready for bed!” you stammer awkwardly. You can’t see if he reacts any further since you quickly shut the door behind you then climb to sit on the toilet, breathing heavily. God, he was so easy to mess with, but you were afraid of what the consequences of your actions could be. After all, taking it out on you wasn’t ideal with how rough and insensitive he was but… you shook your head as you pictured his flushed face again. You couldn’t help but want to see where this went. Removing the unholy thoughts from your head, you start to freshen up, brushing your teeth and washing your face.

After enough time to calm yourself down and what you hope is enough time for him, you push open the door to find him standing there before you, causing you to make a surprised noise. Unphased, he holds out a large t-shirt toward you, watching your hands. “Here… it’s clean.” It was not an unusual act; since you mentioned once that his clothes were comfortable, he’s been giving you a pair most nights to sleep in and washing what you came in that first day occasionally enough for you to continue wearing during both of your odd waking hours.

You take the oversized clothing and thank him in a soft voice, quickly changing into the shirt as usual and… also as usual, asking him about the shorts in his other hand, “can you help me?”

Normally, he didn’t think anything of it, and since he didn’t, eventually, neither did you. He loves when you need his help with things, and while you probably can do it yourself at this point, he never let you after the first time he watched you struggle and in pain over your freshly broken bones. He always thinks he knows you better and, at this point, you just ask because you can tell it makes him happy.

But today, with still a blush over his face, he looks reluctant.

“I… can do it myself,” you start to say, noticing him standing there unmoving.

“No, you can’t,” he says, quickly moving to his usual position on his knees before you. With you looking at the wall and him at the ground, you both go through your usual act of you shimmying out of your pants while he helps pull it off your legs so you don’t have to bend down and then delicately placing your legs into the new pantholes. Today, though, it’s much more tense. You’re blushing, and so is he. Shit, you didn’t even have to try with this one, but now it was weird for you too. Even when it’s said and done, he stands up and clutches his arm with that same uncomfortable energy as before. You hear him swallow loudly as he appears to debate something internally. “I can… b-bring you to bed… so you don’t have to, um,” he gestures toward your legs.

Of course, you could still sort of crawl by only putting weight on the unbroken knee and, as much as he enjoyed to see you struggle without him sometimes, sometimes he was offering (actually, usually skipping the asking part) to carry you to where you needed to go, whenever he was in a mood.

Tonight is apparently one of those nights, and so when you nod your head, he sheepishly hooks one arm under your legs and another under your back and carefully hoists you up off of the toilet. You bury your face into him so as to not have to meet eyes and can feel his heart pounding for the few seconds he takes to bring you over to his futon. His hand squeezes your thigh as he involuntarily shudders before bending over to place you down in your spot beside the wall and climbing in next to you. With no room for personal space and no desire to give you any, he wraps his arms around you tightly, tighter than usual, and you listen to his heavy breathing. Silently, you press in closer to him, grazing his crotch with your butt “unintentionally” and intertwining your non-broken leg with one of his. You notice his breathing becoming raggedy and pretend not to notice any other changes your action causes. When he doesn’t move, you whisper your goodnights with a racing heart yourself, and eventually are able to fall asleep with the help of the tea.

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

When you wake up, Lawrence is sleeping like the dead behind you, quietly breathing against your ears. Turning around in his now loosened grip and propping yourself up by an elbow, you survey his sleeping face. He looks peaceful, but the dark circles stamped against his eyes darker than normal have you wondering how much he even slept at all. His hair was messy, his lips were bitten, and on top of that…

You look down under the covers to try to determine if what you thought was pressing into your stomach was what you thought it was, or just his hip bone. Not being able to see much, you slowly, rather shyly, dive a hand into the sheets to confirm… and your stomach turns over when you feel him hard in his sleep. Very lightly, you run a few fingers along their landing point back to your stomach, until, to your dismay, his eyes snap open. Lawrence shoots to an upright position and when you start to let out a startled shriek, one of his hands flies to your mouth and the other grabs both of your wrists, forcing you to drop to your back against the mattress. His pupils shake as he stares at you, his face burning. But it wasn’t just from shyness, he looked angry. “Y-You! I’ve had enough of this! I…” he shakes his head and releases the hand against your mouth. “I-I haven’t been able to sleep, or just… fucking… relax, because of you.” Hearing him curse startled you, not that he never did it, but he must have genuinely been pissed off.

“I…” you start, as if to apologize, but he suddenly gets up and, grabbing your shoulders, forces you upright and glares down hard at you. He then looks toward the chair in the center of the room, and your heart sinks. “W-Wait!”

Lawrence ignores your protest and easily lifts you out of the bed under your arms to roughly place you down in the wooden chair. You know better than to fight back as he tapes your ankles and wrists to the chair, and can’t help but wince with the little care he applies to your poorly “healed” leg and foot. When he gets back to his feet, he looms above you looking calmer, albeit still frustrated, with a thoughtful look on his face. “Th-then… we’ll just see how you like it… when you, err, I-” he groans, as if trying to say what he wanted was a challenge.

You feel the tension in your shoulders loosen when he proclaims his intentions. He looks… vengeful? But the violent glint in his eyes that’s usually there when you find yourself in the chair isn’t there.

He doesn’t say anything else as he stands, as if calculating what to do, then smirks slightly. He double checks that your arms are sealed and quickly dips around the corner with purpose. “Lawrence?” you call out softly, and though he doesn’t say anything, he quickly comes back before you with some kind of bandage wrap in his hands. “..What’s that for?”

Not answering your question, he bends down to your level and, looking past your gaze, starts wrapping the soft material around your head at eye level, effectively blindfolding you. Again, you call out, “what are you doing? Lawrence?”

Feeling slightly anxious with your sight taken away, you don’t feel any better when the only response given to you is a thoughtful hum as Lawrence stands somewhere before you. After a few moments of the following silence, you start to feel his cold, clammy hands, running through the hair not behind the thick bandage. Your breath catches in your throat as one starts to trail down your neck in a featherlight touch, gasping when his fingernails eventually graze your shoulder. His other hand runs down the side of your face and stops at your lips. His thumb and forefinger grasp gently at them and you swallow. For a moment, he allows your saliva to just barely wet his thumb as his other hand runs down your arm to grasp your own, lifted just slightly against the tight tape. He rubs circles into your palms in a way that can only be described as sensual, and when you start to softly pant against the tip of his thumb, he sighs contentedly.

“I know what makes you tick,” he says finally, decidedly. Both hands lower further to your chest, though still clothed, and he gives your nipples a gentle squeeze through the fabric. You let out a yelp, much to his supposed satisfaction, as this makes him momentarily squeeze a little harder before releasing you fully.

“And I’m not done yet… I want you to…” he struggles to find the right words. “I want you to know h-how it feels.” The way he puts it is negative, but you only hope for him to touch you more. Your insides were fluttering from his carefully calculated strokes and grasps. You wonder if he had wanted you to touch him more, too, though knew he’d never admit it if it were the case. In the end he was taking out his frustrations on you. And you couldn’t help but want more of it.

You open your mouth as if to say something but quickly stop when you feel Lawrence’s hands grip your sides just above your hips. His hands roam as they hike up your shirt just slightly, and you shudder as you feel him drag his fingers across the skin of your belly by the nails. He must be kneeling at this point but you can’t seem to get a feel for where he is while focusing so intently on his touch. You bite your lip when his hands drop lower, running over your thighs and then moving inward to your nether regions. You start to gasp slightly, “Lawr-”

He quickly covers your mouth and coos, “shh, just relax.” When you nod your head, he begins to palm your most sensitive area, definitely noticing the evidence of your arousal even through your clothing. When you whimper into his hand, he begins to press harder, rubbing you up and down rhythmically yet never dipping inside your clothing. You try to get his attention but he doesn’t uncover your mouth and continues to tease you from the outside, methodically testing your limits. When the mix of pleasure and intense desire for more becomes dizzying, he finally releases the hand blocking your mouth and, lightening his touches on your lower areas to gentle strokes, leans in so that you can feel his breath on your neck. “How does it feel? How does it feel to b-be messed with like this?” he interrogates you though never lets up, awaiting your answer.

“G-Good,” you moan out, bucking your hips further into his hand as much as the chair will allow you, feeling controlled by arousal brought upon you. “Please… I want…”

But before you can finish talking, he removes himself from you again, much to your dismay. You can hear the sound of metal clinking softly as well as the subtle movement of fabric. No time is given to you to ask anything more before he starts to cut the tape off of your legs swiftly, followed by your wrists. As soon as you’re freed he pulls you out of the chair by your underarms and places you on your knees, leaving the blindfolding bandages around your eyes. You wince at the weight placed onto your hurt leg, but when you instinctively try to lower your body he straightens you back up and mutters something about staying still. Then he pinches your nose and, when you open your mouth to breathe, feel his long, throbbing cock push into your mouth, causing you to let out a surprised garble against him. He moves to hold your head in his hands as he continues stuffing himself down your throat until your nose brushes against the hairs of his crotch, making it difficult for you to breathe. You weakly take in air through your nose, sex still throbbing, and he speaks to you again in a wistful voice. “You… you take my breath away. S-Sometimes, it’s hard to deal with. So now…” his voice stays matter-of-fact. “I’ll take away yours.”

Gripping your head securely, he starts to rock his hips against you, thrusting himself in and out of your mouth slowly, at first, but very quickly picking up the pace, though never pulling out enough to let you take in a breath. His fingers tousle your hair as he scrambles to find a place to grab onto as he continues to plunge his dick down your throat repeatedly, his breathing becoming more irregular by the second. Your eyes water and the desire to gag plagues you, but your body isn’t given the chance.

Feeling dizzy from the lack of oxygen, you use your free arms to try to push him away, but he only responds by pushing even harder, moaning quietly above you. “Don’t… stop…” he breathes out in a heated pant, though leaving you no choice in the matter either way, his body rolling into you again and again. His hold on your head gets harder, pulling at your hair painfully. He ignores the tears that roll down your face from the intensity of his movements and the pain it’s causing you. His breath hitches as you notice his thrusting becoming more needy and erratic. You keep trying to breathe, struggling against him still, fearing that he may actually cause you to pass out. He must be getting close, and with what effort you could muster to get him there faster, you stroke your tongue along the underside of his cock as it slides through your mouth. He gasps out loud, provoking you to work harder, tears still falling from your eyes and collecting with drool that drizzled from your mouth around his massive size in what must be a horribly messy scene, but all you can focus on was trying to get him to finish, and the way it was making you feel.

Lawrence’s moaning and gasping sounds grow louder and you feel his manhood become even stiffer than it already was. He was moving in strokes as long and fast as he could get. The man pounding into your mouth gave you no warnings as he bottomed out in your throat, pulling your head against him as far as it could go just before his cock started to throb as he came to a shuddering orgasm. Your stomach lurched as he came heavily down your throat, gasping for breath. His knees buckled as he finished, and he stayed in that position until the throbbing fully stopped. With a contented sigh, he pulls himself out from your mouth and continues to gently hold your head up as you start coughing and sputtering, gasping for air. Your arousal now even greater than before, you moved a hand to grasp at him yourself, but he let you go and took a step back.

“Lawrence,” you moan, still breathing intensely. “Please, I need you to…”

“I have to go,” he says over you, seeming to have collected himself already. He spoke in a self satisfied manner, as he continued, “I need to… get some things from the store before work.” He brushes sweat-slick hair from your face gently, and coos, “you’ll be okay.”

“W-Wait, but I-” you start, but he comes around and takes a hold of your wrists from behind and begins to tape them together behind your back.

“You won’t need these, either,” he hums, preventing any way for you to be able to touch yourself when he leaves. You grind hopelessly against your good foot with a needy cry, but the only sound you can hear is the opening and closing of the apartment door behind him. He leaves you kneeling on the floor, blindfolded with tied wrists, with no indication of when he’d be back.

You knew it before, but he ground it into you this time. Lawrence was a grudge-holder, and he always got his revenge.

#lawrence oleander #lawrence btd x reader #lawrence oleander x reader #lawrence btd

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eshithepetty · 1 month

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Ok. Watched dungeon meshi recently .... and why did noone tell me Falin is also autistic??

Like. Yes yes, all the mob vs laios autism polls are fun, but mob is so much more similar to Falin than Laios - not just in how their autism manifests, or their personality, but like..... they're even both extremely powerful in their magical fields!! They both see and communicate with ghosts!!! They both ride the line between human and monstrous!!!! I love them so much...

But. If we're talking comparisons, between Mob and Laios...

I really think they're two sides of a coin. None is better than the other, they do vastly different things and are great in their own rights because of it.

Laios is an adult with autism who is surrounded by people who are annoyed by his presence or generally find him strange or offputting. He highlights the struggle of that, how hard it can be to find and keep true friends that actually care about you and aren't lying about just tolerating you when you're neurodivergent - and how even when you have great knowledge or skill in something, just as often it helps you, it will also make people look at you weird. He's loud. He's unapologetic. He's passionate!!! And the right people will come to appreciate that. But it doesn't erase the struggle that being so open often comes with.

Mob's narrative, on the other hand, is a coming of age story. It's about a traumatized autistic kid who isn't open, isn't loud, who makes an effort to not stand out - because he got burnt in the past, and he himself burnt others in the past, as a result of how his autism manifests. And it's about how he comes to realize that coming out of that shell is worth it. That there will be kind people waiting on the other side, that you're not doing anyone any good by ignoring your own wants and needs. That you have good to offer to the world!! That there's good people to meet !!! That you have more strength in yourself than you think !!!! And how even at your most destructive, all your flaws and true colors revealed, mask finally off .... your friends will still love you. Because you were always yourself. Even when you were hiding.

They do different things.

Dungeon meshi is a more realistic story - there's no otherwordly psychic powers amplifying the autistic symptoms present. It's just a weird, wonderful autistic man with his encyclopedia of knowledge and his small gaggle of friends. And the autism may not be absolutely central .. but it's there. Following the story every step of the way, influencing it that way or the other.

Mob Psycho 100 on the other hand is a lot more fantastical, and a lot more idealistic. There's no heavy worldbuilding to dive into, and the monsters and antagonists they face aren't the main course - instead, the main focus is on Mob, and his inner world, and gradually revealing more of it. In that way - while DM is an 'outside looking in' kinda story, mp100 is an 'inside looking out' one.

And I love both of them.

(Keep in mind I haven't read the dungeon meshi manga yet, just watched the anime ;^^ so I'm sorry that there's probably a lot more to add to the comparison on that front. Please don't spoil in the notes tho!!)

#this is just a rant that i had to get out lol #me upon watching any media ever: hmmm how can i connect this to mp100.... sorry lol #dungeon meshi #mob psycho 100 #mp100 #meta #autism #ramble #laios touden #kageyama shigeo #my own post

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moonyssmommyy · 9 months

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My Marauders Headcanons Pt. 9 ~ Regulus Arcturus Black

Channel Remus' sad, weepy, loser boy energy, multiply it, make it EVEN more traumatized, and viola there you have it, Regulus Black

Insomniac

Will stay up til 5 am studying

The definition of a bookworm

Dead ass reads the encyclopedia for fun

Was not how most of the fandom portrays him

He was not weak

He did not cry every day for Sirius

Though he did quit the quidditch team after he left

He was morally grey

Would do anything to please his mother

Stayed by her side 24/7 after Sirius left

Was a momma's boy though Walburga never had as much affection for him as she did for Sirius

Not to say she didn't love her son

He more than overcompensated her for the loss of Sirius

He would have been the perfect heir if only he was born first

Or so his parents said

The only member of his family that Orion actually liked except for Walburga

Though over time his affections for her fizzled out and left Regulus the only member of The Noble House of Black that Orion actually liked

Spent quite a lot of time with his father as they were both quiet and loved to do the same things

Picky eater

Favors dark colors but doesn't exactly have a favorite

He can never choose between black, green, and purple

His favorite candy is dark chocolate

Calligraphy King

Astrology nerd from hell

Plays the piano and the violin

Music is his therapy

He has a very smooth, soft voice definitely not to be mistaken with feminine though

Their lineage is far more prominent in his voice than in Sirius'

Speaks multiple languages including Latin, French, and Russian

Loves poetry

He writes it too sometimes though he'll never tell anybody

Likes to write down things he deems important about those her cares about because he fears if he doesn't he'll forget them

Very close with Barty

Pandora is still his best friend though

They actually adopted Barty in their second year

Gossip partners with Dorcas

Eventually began to consider Evan more of a brother than Sirius

Easily flustered

He's extremely handsome in a pretty way unlike the rugged way Sirius is

Prefers baths to showers but he can't stand to sit in his own filth so he rinses off after

The poster child for Dark Academia

Much of his comfort comes from familiar scents

He has two smiles; the one that everyone sees and the one where all of his pearly white teeth shine though very few are lucky enough to see that one

He's very slim not to say he doesn't have muscle it's just very lean

Enjoys being enclosed as it makes him feel safe

Actually really hates when people call him Reggie

I have many more thoughts about Regulus so I'll probably make a part two sometime

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imnotjaesblog · 3 months

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Hogwarts Dreams at Night

Part 1: An Owl Appears

Warnings: None

MINORS DO NOT READ!!

Words: 4k

At eleven years old you sat by the bay window in your living room. You tapped boredly on the glass watching as two raindrops raced to the bottom. Your head resting on your palm. You sighed the right raindrop splashing onto the bottom of the window. It was another boring Sunday.

Your parents were out working. Your parents owned a flower shop in London. Your mother's dream was to have her own shop to grow and sell flowers. When an order came in for a bouquet of flowers for a wedding or Valentine's Day she always cheered. Your father followed her to London, his wish was to be with her, to always make her happy.

He did just that when they had you.

Now at eleven, you sat by the bay window waiting for them to come home. It was too wet and cold to play outside. All of your friends were home probably finishing their homework. You had completed your school work the day it was given and handed it in the same day.

You loved reading but you'd already read every book in your collection including your mother's, twice. So there was nothing left for you to do but sit and wait for them to return.

at three o'clock your parents were still out working. The nanny they left you with was asleep on the couch placed in front of the TV. The only thing that separated the two was a brown coffee table your father made.

At four o'clock you got hungry. You went into the kitchen and poured yourself a bowl of cereal, you hadn't learned how to use the stove yet but you were sure you could figure it out.

At five o'clock you laid on your bed reading again. An encyclopedia all about frogs. You had just learned about amphibians and reptiles in school. Just as you reached your favorite part, there was a tap on your window. You perked your head eyes zooming in the glass. A branch large enough to fit a bird's nest blew back and forth in the strong wind. You ignored it until you heard another tap. This time when you looked at the glass there was an owl. A white owl perched on the long branch a white envelope in its hand.

Curious you lifted from your bed leaving the book behind. You slowly walked to the window unable to wipe the smile from your lips. You'd never seen an owl so close before, let alone during this time of day. Maybe the owl was sick or perhaps blind? You thought seeing the sun barely peak over the dark clouds.

The owl shuffled side to side before it flew to the window tapping on it with its beak. You smiled eyes wide as you flicked the lock opening the window wide. The rain poured into your room landing on your white carpet. Soaking the fabric of your socks. The owl flew inside flying around your room. Creating chaos as it knocked down books and flew past your candle darkening the room. You held onto your head ducking to avoid its claws.

Once the envelope fell from its mouth and onto your bed it flew out the window. You quickly ran to shut it stopping the rain from coming inside and strong cold winds from hitting your face.

You let out a huff as you locked your window seeing the owl was gone. You turned back to your bed. The envelope sitting on the mattress. You walked over climbing onto the sheets and picking up the letter. You flipped it over seeing a red stamp holding the paper closed.

The front was addressed to you.

You had never received mail before. Well once before when your best friend Jeno invited you to his eleventh birthday party last Spring. But you had never received mail and didn't know what was inside. Nor were ever able to open up the envelopes you received anyway. When you receive your grades or tests your parents always open them.

You excitedly open the envelope pulling the folded cream colored paper out.

Dear Y/n

We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1st. We await your owl by no later than July 31st.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

You held the letter in your hands eyes gliding across the page. "Hogwarts?" you thought out loud. Every time your eyes flashed over the words witch and wizard your heart skipped a beat. An owl had come to you and delivered a letter for a magic school. To any other child, it would spark a whole new world of imagination. An escape perhaps from your boredom.

But was it true? A school is full of magic. The keys at the front door caught your attention. Your parents were finally home. Maybe they could answer all your questions.

Your tiny feet ran down the stairs. Both your parents step inside removing their shoes. Confused expression on their faces when you ran to them. Normally they'd find you deep into a book or your studies. They usually found you reading a book about whatever animal you had learned about or a piece of ancient history.

You rarely ever ran to greet them. They didn't mind it. They understood the powers a good book can hold.

"Hello darling," your mother said bending down and kissing your forehead. She squinted her eyes at the letter in your hand. Your father noticed it too. "What do you have there?" he asked pointing at the letter. You held up the cream-colored brownish letter.

"A letter from a witch school," you said eyes glowing. Your mother gasped and your father scoffed. He looked over at the nanny who was now awake. He walked over to her, paying her and quickly ushering her out. Your mother took you into the living room. You sat down on the couch. You sat in the same spot the nanny once sat in. It was still warm.

Your father sat on your left. You still held the letter between your small fingers. Your mother walked in with a sigh. She wiped her hands on her pants as she sat down on your right. A small smile formed on her lips. "May I see the letter?" she asked. You handed it to her with a small nod, as well as the envelope.

She expanded the letter reading the rest.

First-year students will require:

Three sets of plain work robes (black)

One plain pointed hat (black) for daywear

One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)

One winter cloak (black, with silver fastenings) Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags. COURSE BOOKS All students should have a copy of each of the following: The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble OTHER EQUIPMENT 1 wand 1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2) 1 set of glass or crystal vials 1 telescope 1 set of brass scales Students may also bring an owl a cat OR a toad. PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS

She nodded off chewing her lip. "Still the same," she said. She handed the letter off to your father.

He motioned her placing it down on the coffee table.

"What is it?" you asked the both of them. "What is Hogwarts?" you asked. Many questions flooded your mind. What did your mother mean by 'still the same'?

"Hogwarts is a school for wizards and witches," she said. You raised your bow confused. "But I'm not a witch or wizard," you responded. "They don't even exist," you said. Your mother chuckled. She gripped onto your hands looking deep into your eyes. Her warm smile calmed you. "There are many things that exist out there. Far beyond things you can imagine," she said. Your wide eyes and mind started to wonder. Surely your mother was either crazy or telling the truth.

You chose to believe she was telling the truth.

"So vampires exist?" you asked nervously. Your father chimed in. "Hogwarts isn't a school for creatures or monsters," he said touching your shoulder. You looked over at him with curious eyes. "It's a school for people like you," he said. You sat back his hand slipping off your shoulder. Your heart thumped skipping a beat. "For me?' you questioned. Your mother nodded.

"You're a witch Y/n," she said a hint of excitement in her voice.

"And a damn good one. Once they train you!" your father said charged. "Being that your mom was one of the best witches that ever existed," he said. Your mother looked away shly. While your parents egarly celebrated the letter you sat there on the brown couch still confused but intrigued.

----

At 11 you had arrived at the train station. You stepped onto platform 9 3/4 after running through the wall of the station saying goodbye to your parents. You were pleased to discover Jeno had also received a letter in the mail awaiting his arrival at Hogwarts. You had both gone to the station together. You both sat beside each other on the train. Looking outside the window. Wandering eyes glowing as kids much older than you walked around looking as if they knew exactly where they were going.

Once everyone boarded you and Jeno sat back on the chairs of the train sitting right across from each other.

"My father told me of a sport called Quidditch. He said he used to play during his time at Hogwarts," Jeno began excitedly feet barely touching the floor of the train. They swung back and forth as he spoke. A proud smile on his lips.

"I'm thinking of trying out for the team," he said. You nodded mimicking his smile. "I'm sure you'll make it. You were our school's best football player," you said. Jeno went to speak but a smaller boy with glasses walked by. He looked into your cart eyeing the book beside you. He scoffed pointing at it.

"Frogs? Seriously? Are you nine?" he asked cocky smile on his lips. You looked over at the book and then at him with a shrug. "I like reading it. Why do you care?" you asked a scrunch in your nose in annoyance. He scoffed arms crossing over his chest. "Frogs are boring and slimy," he said stepping into your cart. He moved the book to the side but it ended up falling on the ground.

You went to get it but Jeno grabbed it for you. "Thank you," you said with a smile. Jeno smiled at you and sent the stranger a dirty look. There was a small beat of awkward silence.

"Are you two some sort of couple?" he asked. Both you and Jeno frowned facing morphing into disgust. You shook your head. "No. He's my best friend," you said. Jeno nodded, "Besides I have a girlfriend," he said. The boy with the glasses chuckled. "Relax," he said. He turned back to you. He opened the bag he held handing you a book.

"Read this instead. It's way more interesting than that boring book of yours," he said handing the brown old book to you. You dusted it off.

1,000 Magical Herbs and Fungi

You looked up seeing the boy still next to you. "Why are you still here?" you asked. He opened his mouth surprised. Then closed it. He opened it again to speak but didn't. Instead, he stood up readying to exit the cart. Before he could exit an older lady with a cart of sweets stopped in front of him. She offered him some but he refused shaking his hand.

Jeno's eyes twinkled at the sweets. He had only seen hundreds of different candies once in London at a sweet shop. He stood up pushing the boy to the side. He huffed dusting off his brown vest. He fixed his glasses.

"Excuse me," he said to the lady. She moved her cart to the side for him to exit. Once he stepped out he turned to you.

"Make sure you return that book!" he said with a point of his finger. You went to ask him his name but he walked away. You huffed sitting back into the seat. He reminded you of a girl in your class. Always acting like she knew more than you. She constantly reminded you when she scored higher than you did. Especially on days you missed class because you were fighting her friends behind the school for stealing your books and homework. Samantha hated you were smarter than her.

Jeno sat down across from you. Many different colored sweets in his hand. He offered you a bright pink cotton-shaped candy but you shook your head. He shrugged moving closer to the window eating his sweets and watching each tree pass by. You turned to the book, eyeing the book of frogs. Maybe if you were going to Hogwarts it was time to leave the children's books behind and start focusing on things you'd need to know.

Like magic plants and their purposes. You opened the book to the first page. You noticed the book came from a library. You scanned the list of names. The last and most recent name reading was Huang Renjun.

----

At 11 years old you arrived at Hogwarts. At dusk, you traveled on a boat to reach the school. It was dark when you finally entered the school. You couldn't help but look and gawk at every piece of art, staircase, candle in the school. It was like something out of a storybook. The castle expanded the further you walked in. Feeling like the halls never ended.

You and the rest of the students were ushered into the dining hall. The tables quickly filled with kids just around your age. You stood close to Jeno. You both sat down at the same table. From where you sat you could see the kid from the train sitting beside a plumber boy with puffy pink lips. The two started talking becoming quick friends.

You looked away observing the rest of the room. Everything looked perfect, magical. Candles lit from the ceiling, floating over everyone. You could see stars from thousands of miles away. The table in front of you was filled with delicious full-course meals. The room was loud everyone excitedly getting to know one another and breathless taking in the large dining room.

You looked around the room eyes meeting with a brown-haired boy. He looked in your direction. Your eyes went big seeing him look back at you. A small smile formed on his lips. He waved at you. You raised your hand slowly waving back. Jeno leaned over your shoulder eyeing the direction you stared in. He zoomed in on the boy squinting his eyes. Once he realized you were making googly eyes to the boy he laughed.

You huffed rolling your eyes. "Ooo Y/n has a crush," he teased poking your shoulder repeatedly. You shrugged him off crossing your arms in front of you. "Shut up," you spat back annoyed. You looked away from him and at the new boy. He was laughing with a few boys next to him. Your hand rested on your palm eyes resting in his direction.

----

You were 11 when the sorting hat placed you in Gryffindor just after it placed Jeno there. You happily went to Jeno's side. Happy to remain close to your best friend.

You were 11 when the sorting hat placed that strange annoying boy with the glasses into Ravenclaw.

You were 11 years old when the boy with the brown hair and pink lips who you discovered was named Na Jaemin was placed into Slytherin. Your mother warned you of Slytherin's. But at that moment you had forgotten and were just happy to be with your best friend.

You looked at each boy and back at the room with a smile. You were ready to begin this new journey of your life.

Little did you know that these three boys would create such chaos in your life.

-----

You were in your second year at Hogwarts. Just twelve years old when your professor had to pair up with another student for a project in your Spells class. You went to choose Jeno, but your professor stopped you.

"Y/n," he called while everyone else found their partners.

You approached his desk Jeno waiting for you at your shared desk. "Yes?" you asked. He flicked away an inch on his nose. He motioned to the other students in the room. "You're a smart girl. Jeno doesn't need your help. I'm going to pair you up with a different student," he said. You weren't too worried about finding another partner. In your first year, you and Jeno made a new group of friends.

Still didn't mean you didn't want to pick your partner like everyone else.

"Who?" you asked. He pointed at a boy behind you. You turned and any worry about who it might be left your mind. It was the same brown-haired boy from the dining hall. The one with the big eyes and wide smile. He was leaning on his desk talking to a few of his friends. His head fell back in laughter.

"Jaemin," he said. You smiled a part of you excited. This was your chance to talk to him, get close to him. However, you had never really talked to a boy you liked before. Not without Jeno in your ear teasing you. This time it would be normal.

You made your way to him, a pep in your step. You tapped him on his shoulder. His friends, all Slytherin, eyed you. Their laughter dying down including Jaemin's. He turned his head over his shoulder tongue poking the inside of his mouth.

"Can I help you?" he said rather rudely. You brushed it off. Ignoring his bothered tone. "We're partners on the Spells project," you said. He scoffed leaning his body to you. "No we're not," he said. His friends started to chuckle. You could feel your cheeks heating up. You bit the inside of your mouth. It was getting harder to dismiss his tone.

You let out a sigh. "Look I don't want to be your partner either. Let's just get the project over with and I'll never speak to you again," you said annoyed. His laughter died down. He raised a brow pretending to think. He tapped his finger on his chin and then snapped his two fingers together.

"How about you do the entire project on your own and never speak to me again?" he said in the form of a question, a wide grin on his face. Just as you went to speak a book went flying to his head. Everyone turned to see who did it. Jeno had his arms crossed over his chest suspiciously looking the other way. You chuckled looking back at Jaemin who rubbed the back of his head.

He was the shortest crush you'd ever have.

-----

In year three you and Huang Renjun began to compete. You spent most of your time studying. Jeno being on the Quidditch team allowed you that extra time alone to study. You'd sometimes see Renjun in the library studying. You'd send glares to each other muttering under your breath.

In the classes you shared you'd always make sure your hand was up before his to answer the question the professor asked. At one point many students placed bets to see which of them would score higher on an exam.

You won almost every time.

----

By year four you and Jeno started to grow slightly distant. He was still always there for you and vice versa but things became more complicated when he started to become more curious about dating.

It seemed every week he had a new girl he liked. With a new girl in his life, he was crushing on.

You never paid too much attention to Jeno's dating life. Jeno for some reason loved to be involved in yours. You had a few crushes here and there but nothing ever too serious. He seemed to always want to know about them. If they were good enough for his best friend. If they treated you right.

But that's only for crushes he knew about. Most times he was playing Quidditch or with a girl.

You tended to focus more on your books anyway.

---

By year five you had officially hated Na Jaemin.

Jaemin seemed to pick you as his next victim. He teased you, but in the way Jeno did. When Jeno annoyed you it was out of friendship love. You knew deep down Jeno was harmless. But Jaemin was completely different. The boy was nutritiously known for playing around with girls before they slept with them, and then ghosted them.

You were not going to be one of those girls.

Jeno never really liked Jaemin either. Ever since he dissed you in front of the entire class during year two. However, there was not much he could say or do. The two of you in the Gryffindor common room had shared a moment togther.

He kissed you in the middle of the night. You kissed him back. He then asked you to the Yule ball. You said yes and when the night approached you saw him with another girl, laughing and dancing together. Then you saw them kiss later that night. Jaemin who saw the whole thing happened left you alone.

You weren't together but it still hurt.

That night you had your first argument with Jeno. Jeno was tired of you ignoring him. He just wanted to know what he did wrong. You told him and he became even more upset by your reasoning. He tried to explain the girl was his friend and he only danced with her because Jaemin stood her up.

He said "One Dance. I danced with her once because she was upset about Jaemin," he said.

"You still kissed her," you'd fight back. Jeno stunned and with a chest full of pain would ask. "You saw that?" to which you have replied with.

"Are you more upset that you hurt my feelings or that you got caught?"

You stopped being friends with him after that. It was too weird.

Renjun didn't bother you much during this time. You still competed but in silence.

Jaemin loved the fact you weren't friends anymore. It meant he could talk to you without Jeno getting in the way.

----

By year six you had gotten a boyfriend named Jaehyun. He was older than you and a Gryffindor as well. He was also captain of the Quidditch team. Jaehyun was a great guy. He treated you with respect and was very kind to you.

Jaemin and Jeno both didn't like him.

Jaemin still wouldn't leave you alone. Using magic to distract you during class.

Renjun became somewhat of your friend. He'd talk to you in the halls but it was really only to gloat about his accomplishments in and outside of Hogwarts. Any chance he got he would approach you. Reminding you that not only did he have rich parents but that he was smarter than you.

That same day would be the first time you got in serious trouble.

In the library, you used a spell to erase all his notes from year one to six. He failed his exam because of you. Your professors were disappointed. Word got out of what you did. Some people said you cheated. Others said he deserved it.

All you remember is that it made you feel good.

---

Now you'd start year seven. Much older and mature now. You and Jaehyun had broken up due to distance. You and Jeno were still not friends, Jaemin still enjoyed bothering you, and Renjun still hated you.

You still cared about Hogwarts, deeply. But not in the same way you had felt during year one. The same spark you had felt in the beginning began to fade. You started to imagine a world outside of Witchcraft. Maybe a normal job like your mom?

She was a witch and owned a flower shop in the muggle world. Maybe you could do something like that too.

So you thought.

To Be Continued...

Hope you enjoy my new series, Hogwarts Dreams at Night.

I'm excited for you all to read it!

See you soon ;)

Tag: @girlwholovesIpreppyattire

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kitsune-oji · 3 months

Note

hiii it's the luci and Satan anon again!! sorry for not being too specific (⁠๑⁠•⁠﹏⁠•⁠) as for ideas, maybe nicknames they'd give the reader, how they'd care for them (if they're strict or not and the like!), activities they'd enjoy with them?

and thank u for telling me about the term btw!! I had no idea (⁠•⁠ ⁠▽⁠ ⁠•⁠;⁠) I'll be more careful in da future!

Carer! Lucifer & Satan

Yeah sure, I hope this is what you meant! And no problem, I think there's no shame in not knowing something before. We all learn smth new every day and it's better not to assume something has been done out of maliciousness if it could be lack of knowledge. So I'm glad that I could help out in that way :) /gen

Gn! Reader

Relationships: Lucifer & Mc, Satan & Mc

Warnings/Tags: Age Regression, Regressor Reader, Fictional Carers, punishment mention, rules mention, headpats, bugs mention

Lucifer

Nicknames for tiny: little one, prince/ss/x, my child, puppy (depending on what you're ok with or like of course)

As a carer, Lucifer tends to be on the stricter side

This means he has clear rules and consequences for if you break them. However, they're mostly rules like not eating too much candy, brushing your teeth on time, managing screen time and making sure to drink enough water (not just juice!)

Consequences depend on the rule you broke, so for example if you ate candy in secret and lied, Lucifer would not hand out anymore candy for a certain amount of time or if you don't brush your teeth, he will come to you every night and brush them together with you to make sure you keep up with it now

"punishments" just turn out to do more harm than good usually and at least with you, he tries to restrain himself and show that he cares for you and your wellbeing, instead of making you fear and avoid him

Lucifer is also a big fan of work sheets and if you're old enough to work on them, likes to set you up in his office so you two can do "work" side by side

He even grades papers if possible, gives you little gold stickers and other rewards like candy and praises you for a job well done

Let's you sleep in his lap while he works too - he won't even complain when his legs fall asleep and just summon a cushion to make it easier on his legs while letting you sleep

Pats your head a lot - when he praises you, when he walks past you as you play, when you hug or cuddle and so on

Satan

Nicknames for tiny: kitty, pumpkin, kiddo, little one, bud (depending on what you're ok with or like of course)

As a carer, Satan is not necessarily strict per se but definitely goes more in that direction

He sets up a whole plan with you, makes little to do lists with illustrations so you remember to do things like brush your teeth, wash your face etc before bed for example

Having read into parenting books and tips to make sure he's not doing anything wrong, Satan understands quite a bit more about what things can help you, why you may react in some ways and how to work on problems in a way that isn't forced but a collaborative effort between you two

He's very enamored with you and even plays with you with stuffies if you like that. There are a bunch of cat stuffies that found their way on his bed and towers of books over time - so there's always one on hand when he wants to talk to you 'through' them

"Mr Claw wants to ask if you want to read a book together? How about..."

Favorite activity together is definitely reading out loud for you. Especially when it's an interactive book, like the ones that have little images instead of words so the kid can read out loud together with the adult

Also loves going outside though and playing in the park. If you like bugs, you can catch them and figure out what it's called together with an encyclopedia or if you don't, there are enough plants and the like outside you can identify!

Likes to give you little tasks/activities like finding something for every color of the rainbow and doing fun quizzes on stuff you learnt that day

Ruffles your hair if it's fine with you, otherwise just pats you on the head - when you're joking around, when you've gotten something right/done a good job and so on

#obey me shall we date #mine #om! swd #obey me nightbringer #race neutral mc #gender neutral reader #gn mc #fluff #age regressor reader #fandom agere #obey me agere #age regression #obey me lucifer #obey me satan #Headcanons #Hcs

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elusivecagedmockingbird · 4 months

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Orbiting: pt.2,5°

[icehockey!jungkook x figureskater!reader] [drabble; idiot fwb to lovers; mutual pining]

A/N: Just something cute and fluffy to introduce how Jungkook and Y/N started out their friendship. I’m honestly surprised and thankful that a lot of people read Orbiting and loved it. I’m currently working on another part of the fic and I hope it gets just as much as love as the previous parts. That being said, I hope you also enjoy reading this drabble.

Jungkook kept to himself. He truly enjoyed hanging out by himself. While his peers played in the sandbox playground during recess, he headed to the gardens and watched the bugs that littered the bushes.

Yet somehow, his interest warranted the boys in his grade to tease him, and the girls avoided him.

He didn't mind it and was just glad they never got physical. Plus, he got what he wanted: to be left alone.

It was during one of your school programs that he met you.

Like clockwork, Jungkook headed to the gardens and was surprised to find someone beat him to his spot by the Azalea bushes. You were hunched over, and he could see your tiny finger softly shoving what seemed to be a tiny red shell. It's a dead bug, he thinks.

Before he could even turn back and return to his classroom and eat his snack in peace, you turned around and smiled. "This bug's playing dead, look," you say with another soft push to the bug.

Still shy but definitely curious, Jungkook walks a little bit closer to where you squat. You cheerily hummed as you struggled to pick up the tiny bug. But determined as ever, you pinched the insect until a faint crunch was heard.

A toothy grin still on your face, you brought your hand closer to Jungkook to show him the bug. "How long do you think until it wakes up?" Still on mute, Jungkook looks at the bug and then at you, "I think it's already dead," he murmurs. "No, it's not," you protest. "Ladybugs like to pretend they're dead so predators will leave them alone."

He didn't dare tell you otherwise when he saw you frown.

That evening, Jungkook asked his brother, who then told him to look it up in the encyclopedia, if ladybugs indeed played dead to ward off other bad bugs.

He spent an hour reading about ladybugs and memorized three facts to recite to you the next day.

But he never did see you.

He learned later that you belonged in another class and were good friends with everyone, which made it a bit daunting for him to approach you.

He still recited the ladybug facts to himself on his way to school and back home.

The next time he saw you was on a rainy day, his first day back in school as a fourth grader.

You had your hair in pigtails, and colorful butterfly clamps adorned them. You were designated to sit next to him, and you hummed while you sat. Jungkook faced you and spouted the three facts he had etched on his brain.

"Oh, I knew that," a soft laugh of amusement followed your words. "Did you know that not all spiders make webs?" At this, Jungkook just blinked. He wanted to say something but knew nothing about spiders. He knew better than to doubt you, though. So, he just nods, his choppy bangs covering even more of his doe eyes.

You smile. "I saw a spider on the bush near the sandbox earlier. If you have a raincoat, you can come with me later."

Dimples popped out from the quiet boy's cheek as he gulped, prompting you to poke his cheeks. "Hey, you have dimples. How cute."

Your hands were cold, a contrast to the warming face of Jungkook as he blushed. He didn't know why, but he felt his heart beat as quickly as the pitter-patter of the rain. He wonders if he's getting sick. And while he usually used every opportunity to be sent home, he didn't want to miss school or not be able to see the spiders with you.

Read the fic here.

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook fic #jungkook fluff #jeon jungkook #bts #bts jungkook #bts fluff #bts drabble

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novelcain · 1 year

Note

When you did your version of wukong did you have a specific species of monkey in mind to base him of? Or was him a mix of some monkeys?

It got me curious when you said you know a lot of monkey facts and I wondered if you used this to concept him?

EEEEEEEEE! You have no idea how excited I got when I woke up and saw this ask! I literally don't even care that it's the newest one I'm answering rn!

And also! Before I get into how I made the design for ITTW Sun Wukong, something I wanted to throw out is that a few people have asked for me to give more monkey facts after I foolishly /j divulged that I am an encyclopedia of monkeys, so I've been thinking of doing like a Monkey Facts Monday cause alliteration where I post a bunch of monkey facts on mondays! So lemme know what you guys think of that idea cause I absolutely am willing to do it! :D

Now ONTO THE MONKIE MAN!

In Journey to the West, Sun Wukong is described to be that of demon Rhesus Macaque.

Rhesus Macaques can come in a variety of browns, greys, whites, and blondes, but for the most part are largely this stunning platinum gold color like in the picture above. I personally love this this color and wish we could see more golden furred Monkey Kings instead of just monkey=brown.

In addition to golden furs, a Rhesus Macaque's skin is largely a pinkish-peachy color with darker, nearly black, fingers and feet (You can see this in the first picture as well :)). And males tend to have more redish saturation around their eyes. (The saturation of this "mask" on males has been linked to levels of testosterone and therefore the dark/more red the mask the more potent the male, meaning it may be a sexual selective male trait as females have been observed preferring males with redder masks.... *looks at LMK Macaque simps*)

However, one thing about Rhesus Macaques is that they have very short tails. (As depicted below)

And that just wasn't quite the look a was going for. So while I was thinking "Eeeeh I could just say that he's a Rhesus Macaque with a long tail" but as I was sifting through my monkey knowledge I remembered another macaque species!

The Crab-Eating Macaque! Aka the Long Tailed Macaque!

These macaques very closely resemble Rhesus Macaques in facial features as well as fur as they also come in a variety of gingers, browns, greys, and blondes with their main color variation being this brownish-gold. (below) Tho their pelts tend to range darker than a Rhesus Macaque's.

And instead of having mainly peachy skin with a few black tones around the hand and feet, they largely have very dark skin with the brightest parts being around the eyes and the darkest being their pitch black ears, hands, and feet.

And come on, you can't tell me this isn't a Monkey King face:

Plus I might be just a liiiittle biased because my favorite monkey picture is a Long Tailed Macaque:

Just look at this dude! He's so done with life! 😂

But along with just physical characteristics, Rhesus Macaques and Long Tailed Macaques share many behavioral qualities as well.

They both display threats in similar ways, such as baring teeth paired with screaming to frighten predators and other monkeys. Though, Rhesus Macaques tend to be more aggressive and bold (accurate to Wukong) while Crab-Eating Macaques are very cautious and skittish. A Rhesus would much rather fight while a Long Tailed would much rather run.

Another thing they share is their open affection for each other. Both Rhesus and Crab-Eating Macaques have extremely tight knit bond within their troop and with even form best friends from a very young age. Just look at this family unit and how the younger two hold the elder monkey! So sweet. 🥹

All in all! In the end, I went with a mixture of these two species for my ITTW Wukong design, leaning slightly more toward his original species, the Rhesus Macaque, and gave him the proportions of a human since he's a monkey demon.

The traits that I took from the Rhesus Macaques were his blonde fur and peachy pale skin tone as well as his more saturated peach mask, which I blended with a darker blackish-red at the bottoms to pay homage to the Crab-Eating Macaque's darker faces.

The traits that I took from the Crab-Eating Macaques were their long tails and black tipped ears. (as well as the blended mask)

And the traits I took from both were the black tipped hands and feet as well as their long fangs.

While his eye come straight from the book.

And this was the result!

#skittle answers #my art #isekai'd to the west #ittw #ittw sun wukong #journey to the west #jttw #jttw sun wukong #jttw sun wukong fanart #jttw wukong #jttw monkey king #sun wukong #wukong #monkey king #original monkey king design #original sun wukong design

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novelconcepts · 5 months

Text

I still do this snap trick I learned as a kid. Fingers of both hands snap. One fist claps into the other palm. Repeat. Snap. Clap. Snap. Clap. It isn’t complicated. It isn’t special.

A girl taught it to me. A goofy blue-eyed basketball player, a point guard with a white-blonde ponytail. We were twelve. It was probably the tenth time I’d had a crush on a girl in my orbit, but for the first time, those feelings felt consequential. I was obsessed. I was uneasy. She did this simple trick at practice, and I copied her, filing a piece of her away inside myself forever.

Snap. Clap. Snap. Clap. I haven’t seen this girl in almost two decades. My hands remember.

I still feel a burble of sorrow-hunger-joy when I hear Nirvana. Songs everybody knows, songs with radio airplay beyond anything I can imagine. “Come As You Are” belts me in the teeth as it’s belted probably thousands. Millions. It isn’t special.

A girl played it for me. A bright-eyed goofball with a penchant for dirty jokes I wasn’t ready for. We were sixteen. Someone probably told her she was wise beyond her years. Too many someones, probably, most of them adult and male. It shaped her. She shaped me. The first girl I ever told I was gay. I still remember dropping the words like a bomb at the end of class, trying to bolt from the room like outrunning the blast range. I still remember the way she caught me over her desk, hauled me into an embrace. I still remember talking her down, months later, from an all-too-real pregnancy scare. I still remember the way her eyes lit up when she found out I’d had a crush on her. Pieces of her, consequential, filed away inside me forever.

Come as you are. As you were. I haven’t seen this girl in almost two decades. My ears remember.

I still see the shape of love in soccer balls and hockey sticks. Sports I’ve never played, only watched, sports that never belonged to me. Everyone’s been on a field in the rain, shivered under a heat lamp. It isn’t special.

A girl invited me. Copper hair and grey eyes, sturdy frame, wild laugh. We were seventeen. She went to another school, lived another life, existed inside uniform skirts and prayer sessions. The internet bound us together. No one knew me better. No one knew me less. I was so in love with her, I forgot how to structure my day around anything outside AIM away messages and songs I’d never like otherwise. I told her I was gay, knowing she might run. She still attributes her sprint away from homophobia to my name. Two years later, she’d kiss a girl who wasn’t shaped like me, and I’d shatter our friendship out of newly-adult spite. Those years, those endlessly consequential choices, pieces of her, are filed away inside me forever.

Ice rinks and soccer goals are forever scarred. I haven’t seen this girl in almost two decades. My shame remembers.

I’m married now. Gorgeous color-changing eyes, leather jackets, confident hands, an encyclopedia of hobbies sketched in shades of ADHD. My skeleton is lined with all I’ve learned from her, dozens of turns of phrase and inside jokes, hundreds of songs, a thousand trusting moments. We speak a language composed of shared humor and ill-matched childhoods. We couldn’t be more different. We couldn’t match up cleaner. I fall asleep with my head in her lap and wonder, as I drift, how many pieces of her are filed away inside me forever. Not special. Not complicated. Immortal as a book recommendation, an evening spent spinning the same record.

I wonder if love is always stored in the body this way. I wonder if love is, by definition, a haunting.

I still do this snap trick I learned as a kid. I hear the songs. I flinch from ice rinks.

I wonder how much of me belongs to girls who haven’t seen me in almost two decades.

I wonder.

#original writing #personal #gay #love #my wife #mornin’. not sure what this is. but it’s true

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avastrasposts · 9 months

Text

The Pilot and his Girl - ch. 28**

Sorry for the slight delay in this chapter, it's a bit of a "travel" chapter and although I had a couple of scenes I wanted to add, the rest of the chapter just didn't flow. But here it is, finally!

Series Master List

Chapter 29 - Warnings have their own post - Word count: 6.9k

The weather outside the school is a crisp, early fall day, and as you all make your way towards the interstate heading north you relish being away from the city again. The route chosen takes you away from suburban areas as much as possible so for hours you walk through green fields and patches of forest where the leaves have started changing color. It’s like a picturesque fall hike, except all seven of you are armed, guns ready, and walking with your heads on swivels.

Pope’s taken the lead, Joel behind him, not willing to let Pope be all in command. Frankie and you follow Joel, and Tommy brings up the rear behind Will and Benny. By midday you’ve covered a lot of ground and take a break by a small lake. You gratefully sink down onto the ground with your back against a log. The ache in your shoulder is a dull throb and you’re trying to get by without any more painkillers.

“Just take the damn pills, cariño,” Frankie says when you shake your head.

“We don’t have that many left, what if we need them for something more serious?” you object and he raises his eyebrows.

“You can be all brave and stoic when we’re inside a QZ, out here I need you to be as good as you can be with that shoulder.” He holds the pills out again, along with his canteen and you accept them.

“ ‘Stoic’, big word there, Frankie’,” you tease him as he watches you swallow the pills.

“The Gladiator film,” he says, grinning, “Marcus Aurelius was a stoic philosopher.”

“How do you even remember that?” you ask incredulously and Frankie gives you a crooked smile as he sits down next to you.

“I’ve watched that film like thirty times.”

“Director’s cut with commentary,” Benny chips in, grinning as he sits down on the other side of you. “He was obsessed!”

“How did I not know about this obsession?” you ask, laughing as Frankie reaches across and slaps Benny’s cap off.

“It’s a masterpiece, and the Academy agrees with me because it got an Oscar for Best Film and-,” Frankie says.

“No it didn’t, Erin Brockowich won the Oscar for Best Film that year,” Benny interrupts, “I remember Julia Roberts on stage.”

“Erin Brockowich didn’t win an Oscar for Best Film!” Frankie protest, “Are you out of your fucking mind?!”

“No, you’re out of your mind if you think Gladiator beat Erin Brockowich, that film was awesome!”

“It was alright, but it did not win an fucking Oscar for Best Film!” Frankie throws his hands up, “I can’t fucking believe you, Benny, you’re delusional!”

“Russel Crowe won an Oscar for Best Actor, I’ll give you that, he was awesome. ‘What we fight in life, dies in eternity!’ “ Benny quotes in his best Russel Crowe impersonation.

“Jesus, Benny, that’s not even the quote!” Frankie sighs with a roll of his eyes as you chuckle.

“If we had a smartphone with an internet connection, I’d solve this straight away,” you say, giving Frankie a calming pat on his thigh. “But you’ll just have to hope we find a library with an encyclopedia.”

“I’m telling you, Erin Brockowich won an Oscar for Best Film, Frankie!” Benny says and Frankie mumbles something undoubtedly rude in Spanish and pushes himself up.

“I’m gonna get some lunch, I’ll get you a bowl too, cariño.” With a scowl at Benny he stalks off and you can’t help but smile at the mundane argument between the two men. Benny leans over and chuckles.

“I totally know Gladiator won the Oscar for Best FIlm, but I just love winding him up.”

“Benjamin Miller, you are a nuisance!” you laugh as Benny grins and digs into his own lunch.

You continue on after lunch, until darkness starts to settle. You find a farmstead on the outskirts of a small town and once it’s cleared you all settle down for the night. You’re excused from the watch rosta again and sleep through the night while the guys take turns standing guard. You wake up early again, Frankie had the second to last watch and he’s sleeping soundly, his arm thrown over your waist. He stirs as you shift under him, mumbling in his sleep, and you press a kiss to his forehead, making his lips curl in a drowsy smile.

“Go back to sleep, Frankie,” you whisper, and as you pull on your boots, you hear his soft snores start back up.

Joel has the last watch tonight and you find him pacing the yard in front of the farm house, turning as you step through the door.

“Morning,” you say, sitting down on the porch steps as he turns back towards the yard.

“Mornin’ “

“Quiet night?” you ask, looking out over the field beyond the farmstead as Joel turns and paces back across the yard again.

“No one came near us but a few groups of infected moving south in the distance,” he replies, turning and coming back towards you again. He stops and looks down at you, his brow furrowed, looking like he has something on his mind. You wait, looking up at him as his jaw ticks.

“Frankie’s girl,” he says eventually, “Tommy told me. I’m sorry.” His voice is gruff, his eyes not meeting yours, instead scanning the sides of the building.

“Thanks,” you say, “Tommy told me about Sarah, I’m really sorry too, Lucía loved her.”

“Yeah.” He stands still for a beat before he turns and paces back across the yard, stopping at the last building and looking out over the fields.

You remain on the porch, watching his rigid posture, but he doesn’t turn and come back and eventually you hear people moving inside the house and you get up to help with breakfast, leaving him to his vigil.

You made good time yesterday, Pope shows you on the map how far you’ve come.

“We should make it to the Boston QZ before nightfall, but it’ll be slower going today since we’re moving through populated areas,” he says, his finger tracing a line across the map.

“More people, more infected,” you sigh, accepting your backpack from Frankie as he comes over.

“Yeah, we need to be on our toes today,” Pope agrees, “But, there’s seven of us, I’d think twice before I mess with an armed group that large.”

“Let’s hope you’re right, Pope,” Will says, scanning the map next to you, “Let’s head out.”

Pope was right about it being slower going. Only a few miles from the farmstead the suburbs begin, a massive sprawl all around the greater Boston area. The six men quickly fall into a familiar pattern of tactical advancement, you stay close to Frankie, as two men move forwards, covered by the other four, repeating as you move through the neighborhoods. Eventually you leave the suburbs behind and move into Boston, heading towards North End where the QZ is supposed to be located.

As you’re moving across a large street, you and Frankie in front, you suddenly hear a desperate call for help. Frankie immediately holds up his hand to halt the others, Joel moving up next to you. The call is coming from a side street just up ahead and carefully the three of you move forward, the other four covering your backs. As you clear the corner, guns raised, you see the source of the noise, a young boy is trapped underneath a dumpster, his leg jammed and he’s crying out as he pulls on it. Next to him is a teenage girl, trying to shift the heavy dumpster off his leg. The boy cries out as he sees you, his face twisted in pain.

“Please, help!” the girl calls, “my brother’s stuck!” She puts her shoulder against the dumpster and tries to shift it again. You holster your gun and start jogging towards the pair.

“Cariñio, wait!” Frankie calls as he sees you move, following you with his hand out to pull you back.

“Stop!” Joel bellows and yanks Frankie to the side so that they both tumble to the ground behind a car, you look back at them as you step forward and your leg catches on a wire. You barely have time to register your mistake and then a loud explosion knocks you sideways, showering you with dust and debris, you cry out as you land on your injured shoulder. Your vision is filled with dust, your gasping to catch your breath and your ears are ringing, somehow you register the loud noise of gunshots and then Frankie is on you, pulling you backwards across the ground behind a van. His face is swimming in front of yours as you try to focus on what he’s saying, he’s patting you down, lifting your shirt to and checking your abdomen. You shake your head, trying to clear the fog, and slowly Frankie’s voice comes back to you.

“Cariño! Are you hurt? Tell me where it hurts?” He’s kneeling in front of you, his hands on your shoulders, trying to make you focus on him. A corner of your mind registers that the gun fire has stopped and you try to feel if you’re hurting anywhere.

“Only my shoulder,” you croak finally, “I landed on it.” You shake your head again and blink and Frankie swims into view, clearer now. “I think I’m ok, my ears are ringing but nothing is broken.”

“Get her up, we need to move,” Joel barks from somewhere to your right, loud enough to cut through the ringing, and Frankie moves around, putting his arm around your waist and helping you up. You’re dizzy but it fades quickly as you take a few steps towards the street, your legs are a bit shaky but nothing hurts. You glance over at the boy and the girl and see them lying lifeless against the dumpster, multiple bullet wounds leaking blood onto the ground.

“Let’s move!” Pope yells and Frankie pulls you along, as Will comes up on your other side to check if you need support.

“I think I’m good, Will, thanks,” you say, your legs feeling steadier with each step.

“Ok, good,” he replies, glancing over his shoulder at the site of the explosion, his gun raised. “I think you got really lucky, that bomb was made wrong. Lots of noise, very little blast, amateur work.” He catches your eyes and gives you a serious look, “You got really lucky.” You drop your gaze, you know you fucked up, he doesn’t have to say it.

You all move quickly through the next few blocks and shouts go up behind you, prompting Pope to hastily consult the map before making a sharp turn. “Down here, we’ll lose any pursuers in the alleys,” he says and you all jog along as quickly as possible while still checking every street corner. Eventually you come out on a big highway, following it north and slowing down to a walk again.

You walk next to Frankie, he keeps glancing over at you but you keep your eyes on the ground or forward on Joel’s back. You put everyone in danger, especially Frankie, by being thoughtless and trusting. Guilt and shame crawls up your limbs and makes your cheeks burn as you remember how both Frankie and Joel yelled at you. You can’t bring yourself to look at Frankie, his concerned eyes, you know he’ll smooth it over, make it out as if it was a mistake anyone could’ve made. But you know that’s not true, the others saw the trap instantly, you just saw two children who needed help and rushed in without thinking.

“I’m sorry, Frankie,” you finally mumble when you can’t take it anymore. And just like you thought, Frankie immediately takes hold of your hand and strokes soothing little circles onto your skin.

“Don’t worry about it, cariño, you made a mistake, the important thing is you’re not hurt.”

You hear Joel growl in front of you and Frankie looks up at him as Joel throws a scowl over his shoulder at you, “You could’ve gotten us all killed, being so fucking trusting, fucking stupid.”

You feel your cheeks heat up again and you bite your lip, dropping your eyes to your boots as you continue walking. But Frankie tightens his hold on your hand as he glowers at Joel’s back.

“Shut the fuck up, Joel,” he snarls, “she made a mistake and I should’ve been more alert, should’ve seen it first.”

“Well, that’s just the fucking problem isn’t it?!” Joel snaps, stopping and spinning around to face Frankie and you. “You’re so fucking wrapped around her that you don’t pay attention to anything. Could have fucking clickers tearing the rest of us to pieces but you’d only see her. She’s a fucking liability.”

You see Frankie opens his mouth to yell at Joel but Will’s firm hand comes down on his shoulder.

“Ok, that’s enough,” he says, his voice determined and signaling ‘end of fucking discussion’. “We need to keep moving, we’re almost at the QZ. This is not the time or the place.”

Without a word Joel turns on his heel and marches off, overtaking Pope who’s looking at Frankie with his eyebrows raised. Frankie snaps his mouth shut, his teeth grinding together as he starts walking again. He’s still got a hold of your hand but as you walk you pull away from it, taking out your gun as your eyes scan the broken city around you. Joel words sting, there’s a truth to them, Frankie’s said so himself back in Arlington when you asked to help with the smuggling. ‘I wouldn’t be able to focus on what we’re doing if I know you’re out there too’. He only let you join in the operation when you pleaded with him. And now you’d proven how right he’d been, you made a mistake and his focus had been on you, not the potential danger. You grip your gun tighter, keeping your eyes on the horizon as you swallow down the lump in your throat and keep walking, trying to ignore Joel’s furious form in front and Frankie’s worried looks on your left.

Downtown Boston is a mess, a wrecked no man’s land of broken buildings and water filled craters. It’s slow going with many detours and uneasy sprints across streets as you follow the broken signs towards the QZ. You stay behind Frankie, your gun out, pointed down towards the ground, stopping when he stops, running when he runs, making yourself small and invisible, avoiding Frankie’s eyes, and Joel’s scowls.

The QZ gate finally comes into view as the sun sinks behind the broken skyline. You make one final detour on Pope’s suggestion, all of you hiding your rifles and some of your handguns inside a building just out of sight of the gate.

“Better to stash them here than to let FEDRA take them,” Pope says, marking the building on his map as you hide your gun and holster at the bottom of your backpack.

You get to the gate, get scanned and taken to a processing center. Since it’s getting late you’re shown to a temporary housing facility, bunk beds set up in the hall of a community center, and given a thin stew for dinner. After the meager meal you get ready for bed, gratefully pulling off your boots and sinking down on Frankie’s bunk bed, you’ve been assigned the one on top. He puts his arm around you and pulls you in to rest your head on his shoulder.

“Relax now, cariño,” he mumbles, “we got here in one piece.”

“I’m really sorry about today, Joel’s right,” you whisper, guilt welling up inside you again, “I made a huge mistake that could’ve gotten us killed.”

Frankie sighs and lets his hand caress your hair as he pulls you in closer, “You made a mistake because you’re you, you’re not a soldier. And I love that,” he adds when he hears you inhale to interrupt. “You’re not a soldier and you shouldn’t have to be, I should keep you safe and I wasn’t paying enough attention today.”

“Frankie, if you blame yourself for me getting myself blown up today, I’m going to slap you,” you protest and you hear him sigh.

“But it’s true, I promised to keep you safe, both to you and to myself, and I failed.”

You pull yourself from his grip so that you can sit up straight and look at him, “You do not get to blame yourself for that and you can’t keep me safe at all times, that’s impossible.”

“I know, but when I’m right there, right next to you, I should keep you safe, I should’ve seen that fucking trap the second we turned the corner, I need to keep you safe,” his voice shifts, an edge to it you haven’t heard in a few years.

“Frankie…” you say, taking his hand as you open your mouth to argue, to pull him back from where he’s heading, but he interrupts, cutting you off.

“I need to keep you safe, you know that,” his eyes are pleading with you, “you know it’s all I have, you’re all I have. If I can’t keep you safe then…then,” he shrugs, shaking his head, “then nothing. I’m nothing. After Lucía…” he trails off, and you cup his face in your hands and lean against his forehead. “You know how close I came to leaving you because I couldn’t keep you safe,” he mumbles, “I have to keep you safe, I have to protect you.”

“I know Frankie, I know,” you stroke his cheeks with your thumbs but you don’t try to argue with him, you don’t try to convince him, you just try to calm him down. “I promise I’ll be more careful too. And we’re safe now, Frankie, we’re both safe.”

“I just wanna keep you safe, hermosa,” he mumbles, putting his arm around your shoulder and pulling you into his side and you lean your head on his shoulder again. “I just need to keep you safe.”

You take his other hand and tangle your fingers with his, rubbing your thumb over the bullseye tattoo and you sit in silence while the rest of the room quietens down, people settling down to sleep. Your own eyes are getting heavy and you stifle a yawn.

“I hope we can stay here now,” you mumble as he caresses your hair, his fingertips gently scraping against your scalps.

“Yeah, I hope so, Boston seems good so far,” he looks down at you as you slip further down his shoulder. “Hermosa, don’t fall asleep sitting up, c’mon, get into bed.” He smiles as he nudges you to sit upright again and starts peeling your jacket off. You nod and pull off your hoodie too before climbing up into the top bunk. Frankie stands up and tucks you into your sleeping bag and cups your cheek, his lips finding yours in a soft kiss.

“Sleep well, cariño, sweet dreams.” He chuckles softly as your eyes close before he’s even finished speaking, pressing his lips to your forehead and settling down in the bottom bunk.

FEDRA in Boston seems to have the procedure of admitting people down to an efficient art form. It only takes a few hours the next day for you all to be assigned housing, ration cards and told to report to the assignment officer in two days time. The Boston QZ is located in the city’s North End, narrow streets lined by centuries old red brick buildings and surrounded on three sides by water. You’ve all been assigned apartments in the same building, Pope, Will and Benny in one apartment, Joel and Tommy in another and Frankie and you in a small one bedroom place on the top floor overlooking Old North Church.

Frankie pulls you into his chest the second the door closes behind you. You’ve just managed to drop your bag on the floor when his arms circle around you and the cool tip of his nose presses against your neck. You hear him inhale deeply, probably smelling almost a week’s worth of dirt and sweat on your skin and you shift under him, feeling the need for a shower.

“I stink Frankie,” you giggle as he holds you tighter when you squirm under him.

“I don’t fucking care, I let you shower last time I had you alone,” he growls, “you smell great to me, you’re my favourite smell in the world.”

“Not aviation fuel?” you tease him and he chuckles into your hair. “Close second, hermosa.”

He’s walking you backwards into the new apartment, guiding you into a room that turns out to be the kitchen and with a firm grip on your waist, he lifts you up onto one of the counters.

“Look at this, perfect height and everything,” he grins as he pushes your legs apart, making room for himself between them and pulling you closer. You’ve still got your boots on, and your jacket, and you’re giggling as he starts tugging at the sleeves as he buries his face against the crook of your neck, placing wet kisses on your salty skin. When he uses his teeth, nipping that spot just under your ear, your giggles turn into a gasp and he bites harder, making you moan so that he can feel the sound come from your throat. You fight with your sleeves, finally freeing yourself and throwing your jacket on the floor and tangling your hands in Frankie’s soft curls, pushing off his cap and pulling his lips up to yours. The back of your head thumps against the cupboard behind you when he meets your kiss, his tongue greedily licking into your open mouth and pushing you back. When his hands roam under your t-shirt and caress along your sides, up your back, his fingers feel hot on your skin, making you shiver with pleasure and you tilt your head back with a soft moan. Frankie lets his mouth leave yours and instead sucks a mark into your neck, the soft tip of his tongue coming out to taste the goosebumps his scraping teeth leaves behind.

He pulls away enough to pull the t-shirt over your head and you reach out to tug off his shirt too, to be honest, it stinks, as does yours, they both end up on the floor. His skin is still tanned and golden from the day you spent on the boat, his freckles sprinkled over his shoulders and chest and before he claims your skin again, you lean forward and smooth your hands over the wide expanse of his shoulders. Frankie’s hands are stroking your back, up into your hair, letting his nails scrape along your scalp as you pull him closer and trail wet kisses between his freckles. His skin tastes like salt and dust, the unwashed cotton of his t-shirt leaving its own scent, but underneath you can still smell him. You can feel his throat hum when your lips move up over his Adam's apple and into his scruffy beard, nosing against the sweet bare patches that never fill in.

“Do I stink, cariño,” he says and you can hear the smile in his voice and you nod, letting your lips wander down along his throat again, your hands slipping down over his chest.

“You taste like salt and smell like sweat,” you murmur into his skin, enjoying the warmth that’s radiating from him, the stillness in the apartment and the calm that comes from being safe and having time. And you take your time, Frankie standing still between your legs, his hands in your hair, letting your fingertips map out a path between his freckles that you follow with your mouth. Tasting him slowly, your tongue slipping over his skin, the pebbles on his throat, the hollow just at the base. You test the give of his flesh, biting lightly like you always do, until he hums with pleasure, egging you on to bite down harder. Your mouth finds a soft spot, just beneath his collar bone, and your tongue caresses it. When the pads of your fingers drag across his dark nipples as your teeth graze his skin, biting down, he hums again, a hushed moan at the back of his throat. The sound, his soft little whine, sends a shiver down your spine, making you grip your legs around his narrow hips, heat pooling in your core and you let your fingers slip down his soft belly until you find the coarse trail of dark hair that leads down under his jeans.

He lets you undo his belt and buttons, the zipper coming down as you cup your hand over the bulge in his tight boxers.

“Cariño,” he groans, your fingers tracing the outline of his hard cock as his breath stutters, “fuck, that feels good…” he drops into the crook of your neck, his mouth breathing hot air over your skin as you continue to tease him through the warm cotton. His hands have been kneading your hips through the denim of your jeans but now he moves them onto your thighs, stroking his thumbs up along the inside towards your core and up to your belt, tugging at it. He makes quick work of it even when he has to stop and groan as your fingers become more firm around him. You lift your hips and he pushes your jeans down your legs, cursing as they catch on your boots.

“Take them off, Frankie,” you say, palming his heavy length again, pulling a deep growl from him as he bites down on your shoulder, making you whine and squeeze him in response.

“Fuck,” he breathes, pulling away and crouching down to untie your laces, quickly pulling each boot off, letting your jeans fall on the floor before he kicks off his own boots and jeans.

“Counter or bed?” he asks, pulling your legs around his waist again, his hard length pushed up against your wet folds.

“We’re not gonna last long enough to get to the bed,” you say and he grins, seeking out your mouth as he feels your fingers wrap around his cock and give it a few firm strokes, letting the precum coat the blunt head.

“Probably not, I’m-” Frankie’s reply gets stuck in his throat as he groans, his hips thrusting into your hand of their own accord. “Fuck, that feels good, hermosa,” he gasps, his cock twitching in your grip.

Guiding him right you look down between your bodies to watch as he pushes in, the stretch making you clench hard around him. He growls, a low rumbling in his throat, his fingers digging into your hips, the slick heat coating his aching hard cock and he feels your pussy pulse around him as you tangle your hands in his hair and pull his mouth to yours. When he starts to move his hips hips he has to squeeze his eyes shut, he wants to fuck you hard, built up tension making his body want to chase release too fast. But you’re just as greedy, he can feel it, your heels digging into his ass, pulling him closer with every thrust of his hips. Your lips slip from his and you bury your face against the crook of his neck, clinging to his shoulders as he slams deep. Every time he bottoms out he grinds against your aching clit, the wiry curls at the base of him slipping across it, making you gasp out hot air over his chest.

“Frankie…” you moan, “harder…please…I’m so clo..ose,” the last syllable comes out as a whine as he plants his feet firm on the kitchen floor, his hands grabbing handfuls of flesh and slamming into your, pushing you up against the cupboard with a panted groan.

“Fuck, so good…” Frankie pants, “feels so good, I won’t…”

He has to bite his lip to stop himself from coming, pistoning into you and listening to your whimpering as he hits the right spot. Your nails dig into his back, your teeth scrape across his shoulder as you seize up and cry out, your high hitting you as he grinds deep into your tight heat. The spasm of your cunt around his aching cock, deep inside you, pushes him over the edge. With a growl he pulls you in even tighter, pushing your hips onto his cock, emptying deep inside as he shivers under the onslaught.

You tilt your head back, breathing heavily as your body relaxes around him. He drops his head forward and your arms come up and cradle him against your chest, pressing kisses to the top of his head as stillness falls over you both, the only sound your breathing, as you slowly calm down.

Later, after showers with soap and shampoo, he carries you to the bedroom and places you naked on the bed and kneels by your thighs. If the first time together after a week traveling was rushed and chasing relief, now it’s slow and calm. A soft bed again, a door to close and lock, no one nearby and no need to stand guard. Frankie does what he loves best, he pushes your legs open with his calloused hands and makes himself at home between them, making you whimper his name while his cock aches under him. As your body arches up and you cry out, he pins you down, buries his tongue inside you, and begs you to let him make you come again and again.

When you finally fall asleep, the sheets are already ruined, your thighs covered in your release and his seed, Frankie’s sweat damp curls a messy halo around his head, the taste of you on his tongue. With your face nestled in the crook of his neck, your head resting on his arm, he pulls the covers over you both and holds you close with his arms circled around you. When you hook your leg over his, he feels like he should simply stay here always, never leave this bed again. Your nose against his throat, warm breath slipping over his chest, your soft waist under his arms and he feels your body rise and fall in a steady rhythm.

He has to keep you safe.

“I talked to Joel yesterday,” Will says one evening, a few weeks after you’ve all arrived in Boston. “He’s been looking into trading around the QZ, talked to some of the people selling stuff to see who’s moving what.”

Frankie and you have joined Will, Benny and Pope in their apartment, continuing your routine of sharing dinners. Tonight it’s your turn to cook and Frankie’s helping you chop up the vegetables while you try to season the rice with what little is available.

“I invited him and Tommy over tonight, after dinner, to see what they have to say, seems Joel’s keen to get into smuggling, they used to do it in the Austin QZ.” Will says, putting down bowls on the kitchen table and knocking Benny’s feet off it at the same time, “Get your stinky, fucking socks off the table, Benjamin.”

“Do you know why they left Austin?” you ask, turning to Will, who’s scowling at his younger brother.

“Tommy got friendly with a group of people who were convinced things were better up north and wanted to join them. Joel said he tagged along to keep an eye on Tommy,” Will replies and Benny nods. “Seems they had a pretty rough journey,” he says, “they lost most of the group, stopped in some QZ:s along the way, moved on when FEDRA got too oppressive or the smuggling got too dangerous.”

“So everyone in the group died until it was only them left?” you ask, seems like you guy got off easy in your journey if that’s how bad it’d been for Joel and Tommy..

“No, they left a few behind in Pittsburgh,” Will says, “Tommy said two of the guys found partners there, one of them had a kid, another one was fed up with running, wanted to take down FEDRA there. Thanks, man.” he sits down at the table and accepts a glass of whiskey from Pope. “I think Tommy wanted to do the same but Joel thought it was a bad idea and got Tommy to leave. They were heading to New York but ran into some trouble and decided it’d be safer to go further north.”

“What kind of trouble?” Pope asks, “New York seems to be the logical choice if you’re leaving Pittsburgh.”

“I didn’t ask,” Will says, shaking his head, “seemed to be a sore point with Joel so I didn’t push it.”

You put the pot of stew on the table and everyone sits down, “So the plan is to start up the way we did in New York?” you ask, “And maybe avoid pissing off any local gangs?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Will nods with a crooked grin, “Joel seemed to have some ideas so maybe he’s heard something about what’s going on.”

Joel does have plenty of ideas you realize when he and Tommy turn up an hour later. Tommy’s been asking around and there’s a couple of people to approach if you’re looking for something not available with ration cards. But Joel’s been more direct, he’s found a route to get outside and tested it, venturing far outside the wall and picking up the rifles and ammo you left out there. He’s also made a connection with the man who runs the private radio in the QZ and figured out which FEDRA soldiers have what weaknesses and who can be exploited for those weaknesses.

“How’d you find out all that,” Will asks as Pope and Frankie exchange a worried glance.

“Asked the right people in the right way,” Joel grunts, stretching out his long legs as he leans back on the couch.

“What do you mean, ‘the right way’?”

Joel eyes Will for a few seconds before he responds, “I ask and make sure they know they need to tell the truth;” he says, his tone curt and crossing his arms over his chest, his face closed off, it’s like watching a shutter come down the way he clenches his jaw tight. There’s a menacing tone to his voice that makes you shudder when he says it and by the way Frankie tilts his head and shoots a quick glance at Pope, you know you’re not the only one who picked up on it.

“Joel, you know I’ve been smuggling for years,” Will says, “We’ve got to be more subtle or FEDRA’s gonna catch on and we haven’t got any protection in place yet.”

“That’s what I’m getting us,” Joel says, “protection. And, speaking of protection,” he looks over at Frankie, he’s sitting next to you as usual, with his arm over your shoulder, “you two can’t go on runs together, you don’t prioritize right when she’s with you and it puts the rest of us in danger.”

“Joel,” Benny interjects, he can see Frankie’s hackles rising, “we came all the way from Arlington and it was never an issue, Fish’s got everyones’ back.”

“She nearly got us killed yesterday,” Joel growls, “because he wasn’t paying attention to covering us, only her. No offense, darlin’,” he says, looking over at you and you’ve never felt less like someone’s ‘darlin’ with the way he’s looking at you, “I’m sure you can handle yourself, but I ain’t working with you and Frankie together when it’s plain as daylight who his first priority is.” Joel shifts his look over to Frankie before he lands on Will, “He’d try to save her even if it was hopeless, he’s too focused on her.”

“Well, I guess that’s us out then, Will,” Frankie growls just as low as Joel in response, “because I’m not letting her go out on a run without me.”

“She’s a good shot and a great look out, Joel,” Pope interjects, looking at you and giving you a small smile, “I’d work with her any day. And Fish, I trust him with my life,” Pope looks over at Joel again, “we need both of them.”

“Like I said,” Joel is standing up, getting ready to leave, “I’m sure she can handle herself and I know Frankie’s as skilled as any of you guys, but I don’t trust them together, she makes him unfocused and I ain’t risking my life for it.”

Frankie opens his mouth to snarl something, but Will’s quick nod at him makes him snap his mouth shut while Tommy stands up and joins Joel at the door.

“Thanks for the whiskey, see y'all tomorrow,” he says, giving a wave as Joel disappears out the door and he follows, an uncomfortable silence falling over the room when they’re gone. You’re chewing on the inside of your cheek, your eyes on your hands and you feel Frankie’s fingers flex around your shoulder. He inhales and opens his mouth to say something but you cut him off.

“I’ll just stay behind, you need Frankie more than me,” you say to the room, “and you need Joel more than me.”

“Cariño, fuck him, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” Frankie says, squeezing you under his arm but you shake your head.

“He’s got a point, who would you save first, him or me?” You’re looking at Frankie and you can see in his eyes that he knows full well you’d be the first one he’d save, and you’d do the same for him. You hadn’t seen it until Joel put his finger on it, but your bond puts everyone else in danger.

“It’s never been an issue, hermana,” Santi says from his corner of the couch, “we’re not in the army anymore, different rules apply and we adapt around it. Will would save Benny first if he had to choose.”

“But Frankie doesn’t even want me going on smuggling runs,” you say, “I had to twist his arm to let me come,” Frankie’s eyes are pained when he meets yours, “You would rather I stayed behind and be safe.”

He sighs, running his hand over his neck, “Yeah, I would, you know I hate the thought of you getting hurt, or worse.”

“So I won’t go anymore,” you shrug, pretending it doesn’t bother you, and stand up, getting ready to leave, “If I’m with you on a run your focus will be on me, and I know you won’t let me go with someone else. It’s just better if I don’t go at all.” You know Frankie isn’t fighting you on this because it’s what he wants, he’s trying to hide it but you see relief in his eyes as he gets up to join you. The other men remain silent, Benny opens his mouth to say something but thinks better of it, closing it again as he stands up. He surprises you with one of his signature bear hugs instead.

“I’d have you on my team any day,” he mutters close to your ear as his arms crush you to his chest, “fuck Joel.” His support makes you smile and you give him an extra squeeze before letting go.

You’re subdued when you get back to your own apartment and Frankie hovers in the living room as you go to the bathroom to brush your teeth. You know him well enough after all these years to know what he’s doing, and when he comes in and leans on the door frame, watching your evening routine, you know he’s getting ready to speak after sorting the words in his head.

“Cariño,” he begins, his hand shooting up and rubbing across his neck, “I can’t pretend like I won’t be calmer if you’re here, safe, instead of out dealing with FEDRA patrols, raiders and infected and all the other shit. Joel’s right, when we’re out there, I’m always focused on you, and I’m always worried about you, in a way I never was when it was just me and the guys on missions in the army or doing runs with Pope in Arlington.” He’s gripping the door frame, grinding his fingers into the wood as he speaks, his eyes seeking yours in the mirror as you continue to brush your teeth. When you look at him he takes a tentative step towards you, his hand coming out and resting on the small of your back, as if he wants to circle your waist and pull you close, but he’s not sure how you’ll react yet. “I know you wanna come with me too, I know you worried about me when I went out with Pope, but it’ll be different now, I’ll be with Will and Ben too, we’ll be able to handle anything, it won’t be as dangerous as before.”

You spit the toothpaste out and rinse your mouth before meeting his eyes in the mirror, “I hate it,” you say, giving your head a small shake, “the idea of you being out there, in danger, I fucking hate it.”

“I know,” Frankie says softly, his arm coming all the way around your waist and you lean into him.

“If you don’t come back, I’m coming after you, you know that right?” you whisper into his chest.

“I’ll come back, I promise I’ll always come back.” He’s turning you so that he’s got you pressed against him, his arms around you and holding you tight as he drops his head against the top of yours.

“You can’t promise that, Frankie.”

“Watch me,” he mumbles, “Just fucking watch me.”

Chapter 29

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